Acceptance of the Self

Book 1: Attunement of the Hearts

Chapter 43.a - Hot Welcome

___________________ ღ♥ღ ___________________

Anne

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[ - Monday, September 16, ???? - 9:43 am - Outskirts of Sorrowwood - ]

 

It’s cool in the perpetual shade of the forest canopy overhead. Amira stalks through the ancient forest like a lithe leopard, slipping from shadow to shadow with purpose and ease. Leahna follows carefully in her footsteps a few paces behind, as she’s been doing since we left Amaranth. The forest is gloomy and quiet, with only faint dappled sunlight filtering down through the trees overhead for illumination.

 

Said trees are massive, each at least two arm’s lengths in diameter and most towering well over a hundred meters tall with widespread canopies that thread together with and grow in to neighboring trees’ branches. This deep into the ancient forest there’s a perpetual white mist up to our knees. The underbrush is thankfully less dense here than it was earlier in our trek, on account of so little sunlight reaching the forest floor through the massive multicolored canopy above.

 

We’ve been taking a meandering path towards the next major free people’s settlement, making sure to cross any brooks and streams we come across to throw off anyone following us. It’s highly unlikely our departure from Amaranth had been observed by anyone other than our friend Spar, plus we’ve already dealt with the bandits in the area, but it never hurts to be careful. The people of Sorrowwood value their secrecy, and we generally try to respect that by shaking any pursuers long before we reach the tree-top city. 

 

Of course, taking a circuitous route also ensures that the sentries of Sorrowwood will have plenty of time to prepare for our arrival. They likely sensed our presence the moment we set foot in their section of the ancient forest a few hours ago, as the village has numerous druids in touch with the plants and animals of this area. 

 

This free people’s village is one that my system frequents, on account of it being relatively larger than most and close to Amaranth. We’re not exactly well known among the populace, but with luck the on duty guards will recognize us, or at least give us time to invoke some of the village elders’ names.

 

The early warning will also, hopefully, allow enough time for word to spread to our main people-smuggling contact in the village so they can be there waiting for us when we arrive. Whisper-in-the-wind, as they are known, makes sure any escapees from Amaranth have room and board for however long they need in Sorrowwood. They also organize transport from Sorrowwood to Amaranth for those looking to infiltrate the comfort of the city’s walls. We almost always make a beeline for them as soon as we arrive, and over time they’d started to seem as eager to see us as we were to see them.

 

In our mind, Ania and I stand side by side in Ania’s headspace cottage watching the large screen across from us which displays what Amira’s seeing out in the real world. 

 

“We’re getting close,” Ania says quietly in our head as Amira vaults over a huge fallen branch.

 

“About damn time,” Amira grumbles under her breath in the physical world.

 

“I think it’s just under a kilometer away now,” I say with a frown, studying the mental parchment map I’d conjured in my hands. It’s a zoomed-out view of the whole hexagon-shaped sector, with Amaranth in the top left and a wavering dotted line going southeast representing our route thus far. The arrow indicating our current position is nearly on top of the marker for Sorrowwood.

 

Amira holds up a fist and comes to a halt, turning to face Leahna as she finishes creeping toward us. Our sister is wearing brown leather trousers and a muted green blouse that’s mostly covered by the studded leather armor we insist she wears over her vital organs. Her long black hair, recently washed at the last stream we crossed, blows gently in the faint breeze flowing past us.

 

“What’s up?” she whispers inquiringly.

 

“We’re about a kilo out from the entrance to Sorrowwood, be on your guard for an ambush by the sentries, they like to pull that shit sometimes,” Amira explains quietly.

 

“Understood,” Leah says, nodding.

 

Amira smiles, and I feel love radiate out from her mind to mine and the rest of the system’s minds. 

 

She’s being such a good little soldier, following orders and pulling her weight with the camping and everything, Amira comments internally.

 

That she is, Ania responds in kind.

 

I’m glad she’s taking this as seriously as we are, I add.

 

In the physical world, Amira turns and motions for Leah to follow as she resumes the trek forward.

 

In the mental world I take a moment to collect myself. The cottage walls around me are painted in bright, happy colors: a different hue for each surface, a real rainbow of a structure. Wide open windows let in the breeze and the distant sounds of some younger headmates playing ball on the road outside. I’d come here to Ania’s mind place straight after arriving in our mind from Ellie’s system’s, since I could immediately feel Amira out front and Ania holding court in her cottage.

 

Ania’s headspace is by far the largest of our system. A cozy little village tucked away in a valley between three towering mountains that pierce the clouds; it was the setting of a story we read and loved as a child. The viewing room, where we currently stand, is set inside Ania’s personal little cottage on the outskirts of said valley village, where the village witch lived in the story. 

 

All around us on the multicolored walls are picture frames, each of which houses a memory near and dear to Ania’s heart. The frames are all shapes and sizes and the memories range from funny to happy to vitally important to our identities. To the immediate left of the viewing screen set about three quarters of the way up the wall is a picture of our sister Leah’s nine year old smiling face from the conversation where we finally accepted that we were a girl, and to the right of the screen at the same height is an image of Amira, Ania, myself, and several other younger members of the system all laughing and partying in Amira’s castle headspace after we got accepted into the Amaranth Guard.

 

I smile as I glance around. Ania deeply cares about everyone who was born in the fires of our childhood traumas, so she sculpted her mindspace into a community for all of our system members to rest and relax together in, should we desire to. Amira and I share a little cozy cabin near Ania’s, though lately we haven’t been using it -- there’s been so much to do! Ania likes having Amira and I around the village every now and then; I think she hopes we start forming stronger bonds with the other folks in our mind who live around here. Which probably would be a good thing to do.

 

I shake my head, focusing on the present, on the five senses our body is feeding us, monitoring them for anything Amira and Ania might miss as we stride confidently forward through the forest along a faint path through the undergrowth. Having three distinct perspectives analyzing the same input certainly gives us an edge when it comes to being alert and staying on our toes, and it had served us well when we’d been ambushed by those bandits yesterday too. Here’s hoping we repeat that success. Or, better yet, that we won’t have to fight anyone at all.

 

It’s only a few minutes later when we spot the first shadow flickering across the path ahead. There’s a growing tenseness in the air, as if the whole of the forest is concentrating on us. 

 

Behind us, Ania states, citing a breaking twig that I hadn’t even caught on the audio feed.

 

A glance around us highlights a few odd shapes in the surrounding foliage that could be humanoid.

 

Maybe they’re just watching us? I suggest innocently.

 

Such hopes are dashed mere moments later, when we hear an all-too-familiar twang sound an instant before an arrow buries itself in the dirt right in front of us with a thud.

 

“Stop right where you are!” a gruff voice calls down at us from somewhere in the canopy high above.

 

Okay that’s new, Amira says, while in the physical world they make one of our arms shoot out as we come to an abrupt halt, signaling Leah to still as well. 

 

It’s a good thing too, because the next twang-thud is in stereo, two arrows burying themselves into the dirt to either side of us mere centimeters from our feet; then more twangs ring out followed by more thuds, at least seven more arrows: seven more archers hidden somewhere in the shadows around us. The angles suggest most of them are high up in the canopy, but not all of them. 

 

Ten assailants, probably more. Way too many for us to take on without a damn good reason.

 

Amira reluctantly raises our swords and sheaths them on our back, then raises both our hands high over our head, palms open. Leah follows suit, sliding her enchanted staff into its holster on her back and raising her palms as well.

 

“Guardians of Sorrowwood, we mean you no harm!” Amira calls out. “Last we were here was three moons ago. I trust your policy of allowing agents of the Amaranth Resistance entrance to your city has not been voided since then?”

 

“Obviously not, or those arrows would have found much fleshier targets and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” the same disembodied voice replies a bit flippantly. “Now, what’s your business here?” they ask more seriously, “We can’t just let people in willy-nilly anymore. There are stricter rules, protocols to be followed.”

 

Amira stands frozen with their hands in the air, fenced in on all sides by ten arrows sticking out of the dirt, so they shrug. 

 

“Do your worst,” Amira says. 

 

“Count on it,” the voice responds.

 

A figure appears out of the bushes ahead of us, just manifests out of the shadows without rustling any leaves and walks to within a few meters of Leah and Amira. They’re dressed in muted tones with twigs and leaves stuck to their clothes such that they practically blend in with the colorful foliage around them. They’re wearing what looks like leather armor underneath their disguise and a helmet that obscures everything but their eyes, which are a deep red color and currently fixed upon Leah. 

 

Two more people in similar get ups slip out of the undergrowth flanking the first on either side, moving with comparable grace until they’re a meter or so behind the first, tallest person.

 

“Let me get a good look at you two,” the middle person calls out. Their voice is low and gruff and slightly muffled by the camouflage face covering.

 

Their gaze sweeps to us and Amira meets it without flinching. 

 

Suddenly, a pressure in our mind. A presence pushing into our thoughts, seeking access to our most sacred spaces. Ania and I don’t hesitate, we work as one to force the invading feeling to conform to our wills; we push it back from our cores, back from the more vulnerable members of our system, and hold it at bay.

 

Need help? Amira asks, still in the front, still staring at the red-eyed warrior facing off with us.

 

No, Ania and I both say through the mental equivalent of grit teeth.

 

You need to stay alert on the outside, we’ll handle this, I elaborate.

 

In the cottage headspace I’m dimly aware of grabbing Ania’s hand, combining our mental and magical strength against this sudden foe.

 

Aye aye captain, Amira thinks at us.

 

Ania and I dilate time around us, giving us leverage against the entity trying to invade our thoughts. And then, just as we start to push the presence back, it evaporates into nothing. 

 

The red-eyed warrior is squinting at us hard, as if we’re a puzzle they can’t decipher.

 

And then there’s a polite knock-knock-knock on a door that we built in our head ages ago: the only one that opens to the outside world. Ania and I, still thinking as one, teleport ourselves out of her cottage and into the stone cavern room that contains the public-facing Gate we created when we were first building our headspaces, first coming to understand ourselves as a system. 

 

It takes serious will or major magic to project oneself into another’s headspace, just what have the people of Sorrowwood gotten themselves into?

 

I share a glance with Ania, then step forward and open the small arched wooden door with intricate carvings of protective sigils covering it. Behind the Gate door, in the void beyond our mind, stands a rather ordinary looking bronze skinned masculine person wearing black leather trousers and black leather armor, sporting the same deep red eyes Amira’s still facing in the real world.

 

Time is still dilated around us, and our visitor seems aware of this as they appear to be in no rush.

 

“What do you want?” Ania asks sharply from behind me, recovering first.

 

Their eyes focus onto my headmate. “My job is to reveal whether or not you’re in league with the evil that plagues Amaranth and the other walled cities,” they reply. “For the good of the people of Sorrowwood, I’m to investigate your mind for traces of corruption.”

 

“What sort of corruption?” I ask

 

“May I come in?” they ask pleasantly.

 

I glance back at Ania, who nods slightly. “Very well,” I say, stepping back and allowing them to step inside our cavern headspace.

 

“Thank you. Now, Amaranth, among other cities, has become infested with a very dangerous kind of mental parasite. I need to make sure you're not carrying it,” the warrior says.

 

“How do you know this?” Ania inquires. “We just left Amaranth not five days ago, and heard no mention of this parasite.”

 

The red eyed warrior looks nonplussed by this news. “It’s the nature of the parasite that it moves unseen through societies. As for how we know it exists, that information is up to the village elders to disseminate. Like I said, I just needed to confirm that you’re free of the parasite. You resisted my harmless attempt to scan you for it, so here I am asking if I can inspect your mind for myself.”

 

I raise an eyebrow, holding the red gaze steadily. 

 

They frown. “What?” they ask.

 

“How do you know we’re parasite-free?” I ask.

 

They shrug. “The parasite would be trying to control you, and trying to infect me while it was at it. The fact that you’re plural makes it difficult for me to tell whether you’re infested or not. But you all don’t look like you’re struggling either here or in the physical world, so I’m prepared to give you a pass so long as you swear to me you’re not harboring the parasite. Deal?”

 

I glance back at Ania, who shrugs. 

 

“Deal,” I decide. Ellie, Maddie, and lulu can’t count as parasites. Our connection feels balanced to me, not the take-take relationship of a parasite and its host.

 

“Swear it,” the masc person insists.

 

“We swear we’re not harboring any mental parasites,” I say firmly.

 

Their face breaks out into a warm smile and their body language shifts slightly, becoming more open. 

 

“Then allow me to be the first to welcome you both to Sorrowwood! My name is Zenith, and I think we’re going to get along just swimmingly, so long as you don’t try any horseshit, yeah?” Their voice goes up in pitch and tone, and that combined with their posture changes make me wonder if we just witnessed a headmate switch behind those deep red eyes.

 

“Pleased to meet you Zenith, I’m Ania, and this is Anne,” Ania says eloquently.

 

I catch myself staring at this enigma of a person and avert my eyes, giving them a little wave instead.

 

Zenith waves back with a small smile. “Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, let me return to my mind. I look forward to getting to know you in the days ahead, if you plan to spend anytime in Sorrowwood that is.”

 

“We may stay for a day or two, but no longer,” Ania replies.

 

“More’s the pity then, perhaps I’ll buy you a drink this evening?” they ask hopefully.

 

I raise an eyebrow at them, but Ania looks thoughtful. 

 

“Perhaps,” is all she says.

 

“I won’t disclose your plurality to anyone by the way, that’s up to you all to be open or closed about,” Zenith says.

 

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. 

 

Ania thanks them too, before shooing Zenith out of our head. She closes the Gate door and adds a big keyhole lock with a chunky bronze key in the hole. 

 

“So we can sleep easier,” she whispers, locking the lock and withdrawing the key. She slips it into one of the many hidden pockets in her blue-white tie-dye dress.

 

“Good thinking,” I whisper back.

 

Then we clasp hands and teleport back to Ania’s viewing cottage. 

 

We arrive mere moments after we left, and time resumes its normal pace around us.

 

How’d it go? Amira asks anxiously.

 

Well enough, Ania replies, sharing memories of the encounter with Zenith.

 

Out in the physical world, Zenith is already raising their right arm in a fist. The two other people in camouflage visibly relax at Zenith’s signal.

 

“The swords-wielding one should be watched, but they’re both clear as best I can tell,” Zenith says. Their physical voice is a bit gruffer than the one they’d used in headspace, but still recognizable.

 

Hey, why do we need to be watched? Amira asks curiously. 

 

Not sure, I reply.

 

They took us at our word, Ania muses, probably not a common occurrence. They’re cautious of us.

 

Well the feeling’s mutual, Amira says grumpily, this has been a hell of a welcome.

 

On that, we agree, Ania says.

 

A number of figures appear out of the underbrush surrounding us, all of them silently corralling Leahna and us towards the east and, hopefully, towards Sorrowwood.

End of 

Chapter 43.a - Hot Welcome