The journey began at dawn.
Finn stood at the edge of the clearing, watching Osmund erge from the treeline with a pack slung over one shoulder. The short man’s expression was unreadable, but Finn could clearly see from his body language that he was tense.
"Ready?" Osmund asked without preamble.
Finn nodded, checking his own supplies one last ti. Not that he had much — a waterskin, so dried at Vrylla had been instructed to give to him earlier in the morning, and the clothes on his back. Everything else he needed was inside him. His soul masses, his fragnt... his secrets.
They set off imdiately, with Osmund leading the way through the forest. The short Anaelle weaved and wound through paths like he could do it with his eyes closed. His years of experience on the island ensured that he knew exactly where they were going. With their current pace they were sure to make good ti.
For the first hour, neither of them spoke. Finn used the ti to study his surroundings, cataloguing details in the subconscious way he did to everything. The trees here were different from those near Osmund’s clearing — taller, with bark that seed to shimr faintly in certain light. Magical properties, probably. It was only now he noticed that everything on this island felt saturated with power.
"You’re quiet," Osmund said eventually, not looking back.
"Thinking," Finn replied.
"About?"
"Madoc. What he’s like. What he’ll want from ."
Osmund’s shoulders shifted slightly in a shrug. "He’ll want to understand you. To categorize you in his frawork of knowledge. He’s... ticulous that way."
"And if I don’t fit his frawork?"
"Then he’ll expand his frawork." Osmund glanced back briefly, eting Finn’s eyes. "That’s what separates him from Hagen. Hagen already sees the Pioneer as a threat to the established order. One that he’ll put down without hesitation. Madoc is the sa, except he is more willing to treat you as a puzzle at first. An opportunity to learn sothing new."
"That doesn’t sound entirely comforting," Finn muttered.
"It shouldn’t be." Osmund resud walking. "Being a puzzle to soone like Madoc ans he’ll pull you apart to see how you work. To see what makes you actually special. But he’ll do it with your permission, and he’ll put you back together afterward... Probably."
The forest began to change as they walked. The trees grew sparser, the undergrowth grew thicker. Strange rock formations jutted from the earth at odd angles, as if the ground had been twisted and frozen mid-motion.
Finn felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle slightly at the sight of it, signaling wrongness again.
"Spatial distortions," Osmund explained without being asked. "The boundaries between our territories aren’t just geographical. They’re sowhat... conceptual too. The land itself reflects the constant pressure of three Greater Fragnt bearers pushing against each other."
Finn studied one of the twisted rock formations more closely as they passed. It looked almost liquid, frozen in the act of flowing upward.
"We’re still Greater fragnt bearers at the end of the day. This much is expected... especially considering it’s the concept of Space we bear." Osmund said with a slight tinge of casual pride to his tone.
They continued through increasingly bizarre terrain. Trees grew sideways, with roots dangling in the air. A stream flowed uphill for a dozen yards before rembering gravity and plunging down a miniature waterfall. At one point, Finn could have sworn he saw the sa tree three tis from three different angles simultaneously.
"Don’t look at that too hard," Osmund warned. "Your mind isn’t equipped to process spatial recursion. You’ll give yourself a headache."
Finn tore his gaze away, fighting the disorientation that had already begun to creep in. "How do you navigate this?"
"Practice. And I can feel the shape of space itself." Osmund tapped his temple. "The distortions are obvious to . Like reading a map."
"Must be nice." Finn said, but also thought of his own Error fragnt’s capability to do the sa, if not better.
"It has its drawbacks. I can’t turn it off. Every mont of every day, I’m aware of the precise spatial relationships between everything around . The distance between my hand and that tree. The angle of the sun relative to the horizon. The exact curvature of space where Madoc’s territory begins." He paused. "It’s... exhausting, sotis. Knowing too much."
Finn considered that. His Error fragnt gave him glimpses of flaws and vulnerabilities, but not constantly. Only when he focused, or when circumstances triggered it passively. The idea of having his fragnt’s perception active every mont of every day...
"Is that normal for fragnt bearers?" he asked.
"Depends on the concept. Space is inherently about relationships and distances. It makes sense that I’d perceive it constantly. Your fragnt..." Osmund trailed off deliberately, leaving the unasked question hanging in the air.
Finn said nothing.
After a mont, Osmund sighed. "Worth a try."
They walked in silence for another hour. The distortions grew more pronounced, more frequent. Finn found himself stepping carefully, no longer trusting his eyes to accurately show him where the ground actually was.
"We’re approaching the neutral zone," Osmund announced. "The space between my territory and Madoc’s. None of us can maintain consistent influence here — our power cancels each other out, more or less. It’s the only place close to the borders where the land behaves... normally."
As if to prove his point, the bizarre spatial anomalies began to fade as they walked further. The trees were more straightened... more normal. The stream flowed downhill like streams were supposed to. Even the light seed more natural and less refracted in weird ways.
Finn felt his shoulders relax a bit. He hadn’t realized how much the distorted environnt had been setting him on edge.
They erged into a wide clearing, easily a hundred yards across and perfectly circular. The grass here was unnaturally uniform, each blade was the exact sa height, as if a lawn mower had been used to trim them.
"This is it," Osmund said, stopping at the clearing’s edge. "The boundary marker. Step across that line, and you’re in neutral territory. Keep walking, and you’ll reach Madoc’s domain within ten minutes."
Finn studied the clearing warily. "And you’re not coming further?"
"I’ll wait here. See how Madoc responds to your presence." Osmund’s expression was grave. "If he appears and seems hostile, I’ll intervene. The contract demands it. But if he’s rely... testing you, I won’t interfere. You need to handle that yourself."
"Testing how?"
"That’s the question, isn’t it?" Osmund’s lips quirked up in a grim smile. "Madoc is creative. And honorable, but his honor has its own peculiar logic. He won’t kill you outright, that would be beneath him. But he might hurt you significantly to gauge your capabilities."
"Wonderful," Finn muttered.
He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the clearing.
The change was imdiate. The constant background pressure he’d been feeling — Osmund’s spatial influence that had been protecting both of them, he realized in hindsight — vanished.
Finn frowned slightly but schooled his expression right after, walking forward steadily toward the clearing’s center.
About five hundred ters in, he stopped and turned to look back at Osmund.
The short man was tiny now, but still stood at the treeline, arms crossed, watching intently. He gave a small nod of acknowledgnt, or encouragent, or both.
Finn turned forward again and continued walking.
He’d made it perhaps another thirty ters forward when he suddenly felt it.
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