For a moment, neither of us spoke, just silently staring at each other. The ambient chatter of the refectory seemed to fade into background noise as I tried to process this unexpected encounter. The singer whose voice had provided the soundtrack to my journey to Ferguson was sitting across from me, wearing the same orange robes as a temple volunteer.

I found myself staring into those blue eyes, and something inside my chest tightened—not with pain, but with a sensation I couldn't pin a name to. It was like looking into perfectly still water that reflected not just light, but somehow captured the essence of every happy moment I'd never experienced… Some other, non-existent lifetime in which I actually had a reason to smile.

My breathing slowed, my pulse quickened, and for the first time in months, the constant ache in my busted up body seemed to fade away fully.

It was as if I wasn't staring at the eyes of a pretty girl, but was looking at the edge of reality itself, at a goddess who could move the world with her voice.

Foreign, alien memories, dreams and thoughts stirred within me like branches of an endless tree, wiggling and unfolding themselves into my head.

Black and white tiles stretching into the infinite horizon. Blood. Dead bodies. The Magnetic Lynx looming over me. Me, cradling her in my arms. A silver RV with a tree growing inside it. Her music playing in a loop, a playlist that kept me going even when she was gone, even when I had lost the perfect, sweetest, most devoted prad girl in the unive…

I blinked away the intrusive thoughts, trying to focus on the present.

"Ah. You're the human boy from the quad earlier," she said, her voice carrying that same musical quality I'd heard in the video, though now it seemed muted somehow, like a song played through thick glass.

"Yeah," I managed, finding my own voice. "Alec Foster. I, uh... I saw your video. Your song. It was incredible. I…"

I considered asking her out then and there. To hell with orange robes, to hell with the fact that we were sitting in a temple where feelings and relationships weren't permitted. Nothing mattered at that moment, nothing but her.

And yet… I stopped myself before I could say anything. Something was wrong. She didn't seem to share my exuberance at meeting up close.

Her expression didn't change at my words—there was no smile, no spark of pleasure at the compliment. She simply nodded and began eating methodically, as if my words had been about the weather.

"How did you come up with those lyrics? About rising from ashes, not letting darkness be your master?" I asked, trying to get a conversation going.

Nessy paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, and for just a moment something flickered behind those blue eyes—confusion? But it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"I dunno," she shrugged.

The way she said it, so flat and detached, made me wonder if I was losing my mind. I'd watched that video multiple times, listened to her voice, been moved by the lyrics. But looking at her now, sitting across from me with all the warmth of a beautiful statue, I began to doubt myself.

"You don't know?" I blinked. "But… they felt so personal so…"

"I let songs out into the wild and then forget about them," she shrugged. "If it made you smile, then I am glad. I'll probably delete it later."

"Delete it?!" I stammered out. "Why?!"

"I sing to release stress," she shrugged. "Now that it's released, the song has no purpose."

She wasn't even looking at me when she was talking.

Did the damned claim by those biker beerches fuck up my only chance with this girl? Did she hate me because I was magically and physically claimed by another, sniff Adler on me?

All of my ideal introductions, all of my prepared words fell apart at her despondent, disinterested expression.

"Um. So, what brings you to the temple?" I asked, changing the subject.

She set down her spoon and met my gaze directly.

"I… volunteer here part-time. Help prep the meals for both humans and prads—we need different nutritional balances, you know. Sing at events such as book sales the temple helps organize. Plus the meditation helps with... my condition."

"Condition?"

Nessy was quiet for a long moment, her fingers distractedly playing with her wooden beads. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, yet concerningly dull.

"Wanderlust dreams. They've haunted me since I was a little pup. Every night, I dream of another place, another time. There's this person..." She trailed off, making an embarrassed face. "Slayer, this sounds pretty stupid when I say it out loud."

"It doesn't," I said gently. "Trust me, you can't beat my day in the embarrassment department."

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"In my dreams, there's this.... person? A boy? Not from this world, I think. We talk, we laugh, we..." She contemplated. "Do stuff? I write music for him. Basically… I'm in love with someone who doesn't exist except in my head."

"What does he look like?"

"No idea," she shrugged. "It's probably a dungeon curse, passed down from my mom who was a delver when she was young. To put it plainly, it's… Unwanted attachments. Feelings for someone who doesn't exist. The temple performs cleansing rituals that help remove such unhealthy desires."

"Someone who doesn't exist?"

"A recurring dream, you could say. Someone I've been... drawn to since I was young. The monks and sisters here help devotees overcome such meaningless obsessions." Her voice carried a clinical detachment that somehow made her words sharp like jagged blades.

We finished eating in relative silence. When Nessy stood to leave, I found myself following, drawn by something I couldn't understand or resist.

"Yes?" She asked, turning around.

"Can you show me… how they help you here?" I asked. "Is it a ritual? An Artifact?"

"Sure," she rolled her eyes. "Follow."

She led me through a side door into the temple's central garden, violet stars twinkling overhead between a curtain of clouds. At the center of the space sat a large, circular stone well, its depths lost in shadow. Carved runes spiraled down its inner walls, glowing faintly with soft blue light, and stretched outward within flat stones laying across the entire courtyard.

"This is where the cleansing happens," Nessy said, approaching the well's edge. "The Well of Severance. It consumes unwanted desires, unhealthy attachments. Removes love that serves no purpose, takes away the pain of loss."

I stared into the depths, feeling simultaneously drawn to and repelled by whatever lay below. The runes pulsed with hypnotic rhythm, and I could swear I heard something like whispered voices rising from the darkness. A spiral of something moved within its depths like a silver-violet galactic constellation.

"It's beautiful," I said. But there was something else—a wrongness that made my skin crawl. "And terrible."

"Beauty often is," Nessy replied, her voice distant. "The well removes memories of attachments, freeing your mind, body and soul."

I could barely believe her words. Was her music really an unwanted attachment, a curse? Her song was so beautiful, perfect, filled with so much passion and meaning.

"Nessy, do you really want to let your songs go like that? Forget them after you sang them? It just seems so wrong to me," I pulled out my phone, navigating to her Pradstagram video. "Look, I want to show you—"

"Stop." She swatted at the device, her movement sharp and defensive. "Whatever meaningless content you wish to showcase, I do not wish to see it and it is against the rules. I'm here to be cleansed of such frivolities!"

"But what if..." I hesitated, studying her face lit up by crystalline lanterns swaying in the late evening wind. "What if the person you've been dreaming about isn't meaningless? What if they're… real? What if your songs hold greater meaning? What if…"

For the first time since sitting across from me at dinner, Nessy's mask slipped. Then she laughed—a hollow and brittle sound.

"Real?" She shook her head. "Why are you defending my dreams, novitiate? Love isn't real. It's just chemicals and delusion. Meaningless attachments. The Temple helps me see that clearly. I don't wish to think about your 'what ifs'. Good day."

She turned around, black and white tail swishing and was gone before I could say anything else.

I simply stood there. My eyes drifted to the well. My fingers opened and closed.

No, no, no.

I just found her! I just found her and she didn't even recognize me, didn't…

I blinked. Why was she supposed to recognize me? Why was I so obsessed with this prad husky girl? What was so different about her that made my heart stop in the presence of her eyes?

Bile and absolute hatred rose in my chest.

The well had to die. It had to be destroyed. It was keeping us apart, not letting her feel things.

I was pulled from my dark thoughts by footsteps on the garden path.

Sister Zheniya approached, her blue eyes shimmering with magic.

"Novitiate Foster," she said. "I sense darkness in your thoughts. The night air carries the scent of... unease and turbulence stirring within you."

"Urm," I turned from the well, trying to compose myself. "I'm… Just thinking."

"Thinking can be dangerous, binding into a loop, when the heart is not at peace." Her prayer beads clicked as she moved closer. "There is a lot of anger in you, novitiate. Rage that burns like fire. If you wish to remain within these sacred walls, you must learn to purge such poison from your soul."

I sighed. "You can't really help me though."

"You must learn to help yourself," she said. "Then we can help you."

I squinted at her.

"Can you tell me about novitiate Nessy Whitepaw?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Sister Zheniya's ears pricked forward, her expression growing more serious. "Ah. Novitiate Whitepaw." She paused, studying my expression. "She is troubled with a powerful curse, one that has plagued her since childhood. The temple offers her salvation from... unwanted attachments manifested by her Astral parasite."

"But what if they're not unwanted? What if they're not from a parasite—" My lips spoke.

"Novitiate Whitepaw is of age, she is quite capable of deciding her own future. Between reality and illusory dreams she has chosen reality. She will join our order fully upon her graduation," Zheniya continued, her voice taking on the cadence of someone reciting established doctrine. "She will be elevated to full monk status and become a great and noble community leader. According to our Seers, her destiny is already written in the stars—in time, she will become a revered guru who will inspire many and bring countless followers to our path. Her mantras, empowered by her Riffweld skill, will enrich the lives of multitudes, turn many away from darkness and liberate their souls from the looped cycle of endless rebirth."

Each word hit me like a physical blow.

I felt something twist in my chest, a sensation like claws raking across my heart.

"Her destiny is already decided then?" I asked.

"Indeed. The stars have spoken. The well will free from her burdens and she will work hard to become one of our greatest teachers." Zheniya's expression softened slightly. "I can see this troubles you, Alec Foster. You must meditate on these feelings. Understand the root of your anger and trim it from your soul like dead branches from a tree."

I nodded stiffly, not trusting myself to speak any further.

"Go now. Rest. Meditate, seek clarity of mind," Zheniya advised. "Tomorrow will come soon enough, and with it, new challenges."

I nodded, departing.

Rest? I already knew that I wasn't going to rest one bit.

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