Ignis' First Firesday of Harvestfall, 1442, Silverthread Run, Whispering Wilds.

The sunlight dappled through the canopy of the Whispering Wilds, casting shifting patterns on the ground as the wind stirred the trees. The air was crisp, carrying with it the soft rush of water from the Silverthread Run. Kaelyn made her way to the bank, her tail flicking behind her, the cadence of her steps slower than usual. She carried a fishing rod in one hand and a small leather satchel slung over her shoulder.

The stream's water sparkled like liquid crystal as it flowed over smooth stones, reflecting the soft light of the sun. It was peaceful—serene, even. A quiet silence that demanded nothing from her. But Kaelyn felt no serenity in the stillness. The air carried with it the tension she had been running from since the argument with Vaelith. And then there was that voice. The voice inside her head, yelling at the back of her mind.

You can't keep doing this! Shutting everyone out—pushing them out—just because you don't want to deal with things. What are you so afraid of?

Kaelyn gritted her teeth, her fingernails brushing over the polished wooden handle of the fishing rod. "Don't start this, chico. I came out here to clear my head, not to get an earful."

Too bad! I'm not going anywhere. You can't just burrow your head in the sand and pretend everything's okay whenever things get tough.

Kaelyn felt the sarcasm in the voice. She crouched by the edge of the stream and set her satchel down beside her. She began inspecting the line and hook, her movements brisk and practiced. The familiarity of the action calmed her somewhat, though she still felt the presence, stubborn and unyielding, pressing at the edges of her mind.

"What was I supposed to do?" she asked to no one in particular, threading the bait onto the hook. "Did you really expect me to just open to Vaelith—a total rando we've only just met yesterday—and tell her some insane theory about having two people inside one head? About us?"

Kaelyn cast the line out into the water with a sharp flick of her wrist, the hook landing with a soft plunk. The current took it, carrying the bait downstream as the bobber floated lazily along the surface. For a moment, she sat back on her heels and watched it drift, her tail curling and uncurling behind her in restless loops.

Fishing was supposed to be relaxing. Supposed to be simple. Just a rod, a line, and the water. No complications. No noise. And yet, she could not shut out the storm in her mind.

You know you didn't NEED to shut her down like that.

She let out a long sigh.

Vaelith wasn't asking for a confession. I'm the one who opened the door. Told her something was going on. You could have just listened—If only you had just listened. She was just trying to help.

Kaelyn's fingers grazed the rod handle as her grip tightened. "Help with what?" she said under her breath, her voice barely audible over the murmur of the stream. "What was she going to do—pat me on the back and tell me it'll all be fine? How can anyone understand what's happening to us?"

The water gurgled softly, oblivious to her frustration. Her tail flicked sharply, the tip thumping against the grass. Us. There it was again—that word. Like there was a whole separate person she had to account for now, lurking just behind her eyes, waiting for her to slip.

She shifted her weight, her reflection rippling in the water as she moved. The felinae looking back at her was flawless, with golden hair shimmering in the sunlight and green eyes that seemed to catch every glint of light. She could see how Megan had been the inspiration behind her looks. It was a face she had picked out herself, designed to perfection. Confident. Commanding. Everything Ryan was not.

And yet, as Kaelyn stared at that reflection. "You don't hold on to anything, do you?" she asked the stream, watching the distorted shapes dissolve into the current. But it just kept moving, piece by piece, taking everything downstream—into the unknown.

Was that what was happening to her? She had felt whole yesterday, had she not? But now it was like pieces of her were slipping away, bit by bit. Her reflection, her memories, even her sense of self—everything felt like it was dissolving. A flicker of doubt crept in. Who was this person in the water, really? Was it her? Or was it just another mask, something Ryan had made up? Something he could discard the moment it stopped feeling fun.

Her ears flattened at the thought. The rod twitched slightly in her hands as the current tugged on the line, but she ignored it. "I'm not a damn mask," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "I'm not something you can just take off and put away. And if I am?" She smirked faintly, though there was no one to see it. "I'd like to see you try."

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to sting. The pain grounded her, gave her something to focus on. But it did not stop the next thought from creeping in, unbidden and unwelcome.

What if that's all I am? A mask?

The bobber dipped suddenly, jerking her back to the present. Kaelyn snapped the rod back instinctively, the line going taut as the fish on the other end fought against it. Her movements were smooth, practiced—pull, reel, pull, reel—until the fish broke the surface with a splash. A flash of silver scales, twisting and thrashing in the sunlight.

She reeled it in quickly, her fingers gripping the line as she held the fish aloft. It was small, only about a pound, but it shimmered like molten silver in the sunlight. For a moment, she just stared at it, watching it writhe against the hook.

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"Is this what I'm supposed to be?" she asked aloud, her voice low, almost a growl. "Just something you catch and let go? Something that's only here for the moment—until you're done playing pretend?"

The fish twisted violently in her grip, and Kaelyn's hand slipped. She cursed under her breath, fumbling to free the hook before tossing the fish back into the stream. It vanished in an instant, a flick of its tail the only sign it had ever been there.

She sat back, exhaling sharply. Her hands trembled as she set the rod down beside her.

I'm stronger than this. I can just snap myself back together.

But the trembling did not stop.

She reached into her satchel and pulled out another piece of bait, threading it onto the hook with more force than was strictly necessary. Her movements were jerky now, less controlled. Her tail flicked irritably behind her as she cast the line out again, the hook plunking into the water with a splash that felt louder than it should have.

The quiet stretched on, the stream murmuring softly as the line drifted downstream. Kaelyn's shoulders slumped, her earlier energy drained. The sun warmed her, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead, but she could not bring herself to relax.

In the back of her mind, she thought she heard a distinct voice. It stirred quietly.

You're not just a mask.

There was no sarcasm, no edge. Just a quiet sincerity that caught her off guard.

I don't know exactly what you are. What we both are. But we're more than that.

Her grip on the rod loosened slightly, her ears flicking at the sound of the voice. She did not respond—not aloud, at least. But something in her chest eased, just a little. Like a tightly wound knot that finally loosened.

Megan had told her earlier, "You don't have to fight her, you know. She's a part of you. You two just need to learn to get along." She had also said, "You don't have to hide any part of yourself around me." Easy for her to say. Megan did not have to live with the push and pull, the constant questions with no answers. Kaelyn gritted her teeth. She was not hiding—she just was not ready. That was different. Not the same thing at all.

Maybe Megan had been right, however. Maybe she should try to connect. To get along. But she did not know exactly who she was right now. Right now, she felt neither like the confident Kaelyn who could easily take over and captivate a crowd, nor Ryan, the university graduate with no job.

Whenever she used you or I right now, the words felt like half of it applied to her, and another half to someone else. But the division was unclear. She wondered what this meant about who she was herself.

How was she supposed to get her two halves to play nice when she was not sure how to tell each other apart? How to reach out to either of them?

The bobber floated lazily along the surface of the stream, and for the first time in a while, Kaelyn let herself watch it without thinking too much. Just her, the water, and the faint presence in the back of her mind. This moment was not peace, exactly. But it was not war, either.

So she kept at it. Cast the rod, catch a fish, release the fish. It was a simple routine, one that was exactly what she needed right now. It gave her all the time she needed to think. She did this for what felt like hours.

"You have reached level fifteen for the Fisher class."

Kaelyn stretched and yawned. Despite starting at level one, fishing had felt like something she had done before. Almost as if it was something that came from another life. But she could not even tell whose life it was that the knowledge came from. Maybe it was Ryan's skill, buried in the folds of his brain and passed on to her. Or maybe it was hers, pulled from the past that had never been—a phantom memory written into her by the game itself, as much an illusion as her face in the stream. Kaelyn's entire life was something that some computer or game system retconned into existence as of yesterday, when Ryan created her. That was how she had started, anyway. An experiment. A curiosity. But she was more than that now—was she not?

But she was not fair to him. Ryan did not just create her on a whim. She had always been there. Deep inside of him, even before yesterday. She was the one who had nudged him toward curiosity when had felt adrift and bored. He had no ambitions and no interest in anything. So her wish to live, to exist, however insignificant it had been, had been enough to guide him. To push him towards making the choices he did. Maybe that was all she was: the piece of him that wanted more. Or maybe she was something else entirely.

Kaelyn stood, dusting off her robes as she slung the satchel back over her shoulder. Her tail swayed behind her as she glanced one last time at the stream, its surface rippling with light. The water kept flowing, steady and unrelenting, carrying everything forward. Maybe she could learn to do the same. Most of the day's anger and frustration had bled away, leaving only a faint undercurrent of resolve.

"Guess there's plenty of time to figure it out. It's a long trip back home," she said quietly, almost to herself. Her voice was softer now.

She reeled the line in and traded her fishing rod for her priest staff. Kaelyn turned and began the long walk back toward Luminara. Her steps were slower, more measured, but there was a steadiness to them now that had not been there before.

The stream murmured behind her, its quiet voice fading into the distance as she walked.

She glanced back at the city of Zephyrdale, where she had separated from Vaelith. Something tugged at her. Was it okay to leave like that, saying nothing? She knew Leoric would come pick Vaelith up later and the two of them would set out for Umbraholme.

But Kaelyn? Her next destination was back in Luminara. Fishing had given her time to think, to let the sharp edges of her frustration wear down against the steady flow of the stream. Now, as she walked, her thoughts shifted toward what was waiting for her ahead.

Alchemy. The art of transformation. Of breaking things down and building something new. She wondered what miracles it might bring to her life—what it might teach her about herself. That is what she was trying to do, right? To take the raw, unrefined pieces of who she was and craft them into something else? Something better than the sum of its parts?

Her tail swayed behind her as she walked, her steps slow but deliberate. Alchemy was supposed to be about turning base materials into gold, was it not? She huffed softly, amused at the thought. Maybe it worked for metaphorical gold as well.

But then again, Kaelyn mused, as the distant shape of Zephyrdale faded behind her, maybe she was not looking to change who she was. Maybe she just needed to figure out how to use the pieces she already had.

The path ahead wound toward Luminara, sun-dappled and inviting. It felt like the world was waiting for her to catch up. And that was where the rest of the group would reconvene.

She wondered how the meeting would go. Vaelith had tried to help, and Kaelyn had lashed out. She had not meant to push so hard—had she? How was she supposed to face her after that, when Vaelith had only been trying to understand?

And Elyssia—she had always been the protective one. Kaelyn knew she had already pushed her quite far yesterday. Had it been on purpose? Maybe. Maybe she had wanted to see how far she could go before someone pushed back.

As for Leoric? Well, at least he was not mad at her. Yet.

Her party situation was far from ideal. But it was all she had, and that had to be enough—for now.

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