The sun was at the noon position as the clear mountain air blew with a cool kiss. Frank, Legeis, Heather, Quinny, and Breanne stood in the yard before Heather's tower as Legeis presented his work.

“Now I'm Jealous,” Heather remarked as she looked over the palanquin. It was a beautiful thing of sandalwood inlaid with golden trims. It was large enough to carry six people with a plush bed of purple fabric and a dozen small pillows. It was completely enclosed by a frame designed to look like trees with branches reaching across to one another. Over the arms hung white curtains that could be drawn shut to conceal who was inside. Nowhere was there a sharp angle or corner, the whole surface seeming to flow in gentle curves. A trunk was added to the end to store goods, and near the front was a special basket to contain the egg. It was wrapped in metal bands and designed to blend into the rest of the palanquin, looking to be nothing more than a large, stylish acorn.

“So you like it?” Legeis asked as Heather inspected it.

“Like it? I love it! Now I’m sad I will spend so much time as a bird and not riding in it.”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous,” Breanne added as she pulled a curtain aside. “You will only be in bird form when others are about.” She looked inside to a corner and smiled to see the small golden cage hanging.”And thanks to Gwen, you have a private space.”

“I suppose Gwen thought she was being funny giving Frank a cage for me,” Heather sighed.

“It does complete the disguise,” Breanne said with a smile. “Besides, if I am to claim you are my pet bird, then I need to have a place to lock you up.”

Quinny laughed as Heather glared at Breanne. She wanted to make a snide remark but couldn’t deny she was right. A bird in a cage made more sense, but she hated the idea of being inside.

At least Frank had a more reasonable disguise that hid his nature and turned him into a warrior. She was rather fond of the outfit that garbed him in dark gray cloth, heavy boots, and metal shoulder plates that sported a green and white cape with Gwen's unicorn symbol. His face was hidden in a full helm that showed his eyes and parted just across the nose to the chin allowing him to breath if he needed to. What he liked most was the pair of metal gloves Gwen had made that put long metal claws on his fingers. This allowed him to fight the way he was accustomed to without betraying his nature. Gwen even went so far as to create a cover story for him, saying he was something called a Grollich, a sort of mountain orc that had roughly the same proportions and gray skin. He was to tell people his class was a tribal brawler with a specialization in fist weapons.

Quinny's outfit was simpler, with a thin blue robe over a chain tunic. She wore wrappings over her hands and feet, with a simple pair of sandals and spiked knuckles. A wide-brimmed hat of straw rested on a head wrapped in a black scarf with a white mask over her face. It offered no facial features save for the eyes, which in Quinny's case were jet black. The whole look had an oriental assassin feel to it, especially with a sword belted to her waist. She could pass herself off as a Morlock, a type of human that lived underground with pale skin and jet black eyes. The race was notorious for wearing wrappings and wide hats because Morlock's skin and eyes were sensitive to sunlight. The mask was a feature of her class as a Shinji warrior, a group who fought with great honor and wore masks to conceal their emotions. Quinny loved the idea and kept referring to herself as a samurai as she swung her sword.

Of course, Gwen included one last feature meant for Heather. The golden birdcage was her gift to complete the disguise and help them pass without drawing too much attention. Gwen even went so far as to add a small bell for Heather to play with inside the cage. With a sigh, she turned around to find Frank looking over the palanquin with a curious expression.

“It’s nicer than the last one,” he admitted with a shrug.

Heather shook her head at his simplistic response. The whole thing was a vast improvement and looked like it should be carrying a queen on the shoulders of a dozen bronze-skinned men. She smiled at the thought of parading down the road on the shoulders of a bunch of bare-chested men while reclining on pillows and eating chocolates.

“Are you alright?” Frank asked when she went silent.

“I’m fine,” she blurted, the daydream shattering in embarrassment. She looked around to see every eye was watching and prayed she wasn’t blushing. “Well, then. I suppose the only thing left to do is move the egg.”

“Are we sure we can move it?” Breanne asked. “It’s frozen to the cave floor.”

Heather had considered that point a dozen times and long ago decided to chip the ice away if she had to. She thought of melting the ice but was worried it was frozen for a reason. Of course, they already debated the nature of the cold and what was keeping it frozen. The consensus was the crystal was the source and would have to be transported with the egg. This created a few problems with how far the ice might spread and how to keep the egg isolated. Legeis built a special container to act like a cooler, isolating the egg and the cold inside. They still wondered why it was frozen and decided to ask the only person who might know. Umtha didn't seem to understand why the egg was frozen and knew nothing about the stone.

“I will chip the ice away if I have to,” Heather said as she fished around in her belt pouch. With a careful touch, she removed the little figurine of the bird, holding it up to inspect the image.

“You should hide that someplace in the cage, so it's always close to hand,” Breanne said.

“Nah, the cage is too small. It has to be someplace she could reach it as a bird and have room to change back,” Quinny added.

“Hmm,” Breanne said as she rubbed her chin. “Maybe we can hide it along the back wall where you can reach it from the pillows.”

“You should test it,” Quinny suggested. “Change into a bird, and I will put it in the thingy to see if you can reach it.”

“It's called a palanquin,” Heather corrected, but Quinny shrugged. With a sigh, she squatted and put the statue on the ground before speaking the command word. “Chuthos.” She was a crow in a blink of an eye, looking up at the world around her. With a squawk, she took to the air, flying to the top of the palanquin as Quinny moved to get the statue.

“I like how it always changes shape to look like you,” Quinny said as she picked it up. Carefully she climbed into the palanquin and tucked it between the mattress and the frame. “See if you can reach it,” Quinny said as she sat back.

Heather flew into the air and through the curtain to land on a pillow. She marveled at how much space there appeared to be from a bird's point of view. She hopped to the edge where the statue was tucked but couldn’t get a foot down to grab it. It wasn’t really a concern because she could summon it to her grasp, but keeping it hidden was a good idea.

“She cants' reach it,” Breanne said as Heather hopped back and crowed. “We need a better place.”

“Maybe we can hide it in the open,” Quinny suggested while digging the statue out.

“I suppose I could build a mounting for it and try to make it look like an artistic feature of the palanquin,” Legeis offered as Quinny turned about with the statue.

“Yeah, you should do that,” Quinny agreed and held the statue out to the crow at her side. “Common, say chuthos and –”

“Woah!” Legeis cried as Frank and Breanne stepped away.

Heather jumped in alarm, flapping her wings as Quinny looked about in alarm.

“What just happened?” she said in a strange voice.

“She turned into Heather,” Frank said as he stood by, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“I did what?” Quinny asked as she looked down at the sunny yellow dress she was now wearing. She reached up and took off the yellow sun hat, turning it over in her hands in disbelief. “How did I become Heather?”

Before anyone could respond, Heather swooped down and landed on her head, pecking at her in annoyance. She felt enraged that Quinny was in her body, even more, annoyed that she couldn't get it back.

“Ow! Get off me!” Quinny complained, waving her hands in the air to drive Heather off.

Frank stepped closer to stare at Quinny, his eyes trying to see some difference as she smiled. “But how did you do it?” he asked.

“It must have been the statue!” Quinny exclaimed and looked about to find it lying at her feet. “Here, look!” she said, picking it up to show it was now an image of a zombie woman in a dress.

“It allowed you to change places,” Breanne said in surprise. “You are her in every detail like you have her body.”

Heather felt a strange sense of panic to be unable to claim her body back, and every second that went by made it worse. She hopped along the edge of the palanquin, squawking and flaring her feathers, trying to impress on them how annoyed she was.

“I think you should change back,” Frank said as he noticed the display.

“Aw,” Quinny said. “This is my once chance to be a necromancer.”

“I doubt you get any of her power,” Breanne said with a shake of her head. “Now change back. She is obviously not happy about this.”

Quinny shrugged and turned to face Frank, a smile spreading on her face.

“So I guess I’m your girlfriend now,” she said with a sultry voice.

“What?” he remarked, taking a step back.

Quinny swung her hips and shook out her hair as she stepped closer, her smile spreading slowly. She didn't notice the sudden motion as a bird streaked into her hand and called out a single word. In a flash, a zombie was standing before her as Heather curled her hands into fists.

“Change back!” Heather yelled, drawing a hand back as if to strike her.

“Why?” Quinny teased. “Just think of how much fun this could be.”

“I don't want to think about it. I want you to change back!”

“I am only playing,” Quinny said with a roll of her eyes. “It's not like this is hurting anyone.”

Heather went to reply but suddenly realized how strange she felt. She looked down at herself and tried to rationalize the lack of warmth or even a heartbeat. Even when she used her magic to become undead, it didn't feel as empty as this.

“I don't like this,” Heather remarked, starting to shake.

“Quinny, just change back,” Breanne insisted. “Are you blind to how upset she is?”

“But I will become a bird now,” Quinny said in a confused tone, drawing the tense moment out longer.

Breanne snatched the statue from Quinny's hand and held it out to Heather. “You change into a bird first so that she can switch back to her zombie form.”

Heather quickly reached up and uttered the command word, fluttering to the ground as a crow as Breanne thrust the zombie statue on Quinny. She reluctantly touched it and switched places allowing Breanne to place it on the ground. Heather immediately hopped to the figure and grabbed hold of it, changing back into herself.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Heather cried out loud as she fell to her knees. She threw her head back and took a deep breath, her eyes shut as she tried to catch her breath.

“Why were you so upset at me?” Quinny asked with a very innocent look. “Did you think I wouldn’t give you your body back?”

Heather took a moment to collect her thoughts before trying to explain. She wasn’t sure it could be explained, but something about all of this dug at some deep primal fear. It echoed from her memory, but she couldn't put her finger on it or recall why. She cleared those thoughts away and instead tried to think of a way to word her reply to encapsulate the feeling.

“Imagine being turned into a bird and then trapped as somebody else runs off with your real body.” Quinny looked as if she was trying to imagine it but wasn’t getting the idea.

“Did you know it worked like that?” Frank asked as he knelt beside Heather and took her hand.

“No! I had no idea it worked like that,” Heather groaned, allowing him to pull her up and steady her. “I don’t know how to express how terrified I felt. It brought up some sort of memory of feeling like this happened before.”

“I'm sorry,” Quinny said with real concern in her voice. “I guess I thought of it as fun and didn't think you were seriously upset.”

“It’s fine, I’m alright now,” Heather lied, not able to understand it herself. “I panicked and overreacted. I know you’re my friend and wouldn’t abuse it.”

“I was going to tease Frank, but I wouldn’t have done anything bad.”

Heather picked up the small statue and turned it over in her hand. Why had this nearly thrown her into a panic attack?

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Frank pried, his voice sounding of concern. “You’re shivering.”

Heather hadn’t realized the reaction was that bad as she clutched the statue in hand. Putting it in her pouch, she turned to Frank and nodded silently, still not sure why she reacted so badly. His yellow eyes narrowed in doubt, but thankfully he let the matter drop, suggesting the statue could wait till later. He used her hand to turn her gently to the tower and suggested she get the egg instead.

Heather nodded and walked to the tower, saying nothing as she went. Breanne followed, coming up beside her as she headed for the steps inside.

“We need to get the egg,” Heather said at last as Breanne looked on with worry.

“You should take a minute to figure out what just happened,” Breanne replied. “You looked like you were about to kill Quinny.”

Heather put a hand to her face to discover her eyes were wet. She lifted the hand away to see the tears but was unable to understand why she was crying.

“I don’t know why I am so upset,” Heather said. “Seeing somebody else in my body caused a terrible reaction.”

“Quinny didn’t seem at all disturbed you were in her body,” Breanne pointed out.

Heather realized that was true, but it still made little difference. Even now, she still felt panicked, as if she had nearly lost herself. This made her think of the past and all the things she learned. What if this reaction was something from when she worked with Hathlisora? What if she had been here before and somehow lost her memory?

“Can I ask you a question?” Heather asked as they entered the door.

“Of course,” Breanne replied with a strange glance.

Heather noted the look but focused on the questions that were swimming in her head.

“When we first met, and you saw some of what I could do. You told us that you thought I had a purpose with the necromancers. You spoke very mysteriously as if you knew something we didn't.”

“I suppose I did,” Breanne admitted. “Truth be told, I miss the days of the necromancer kingdoms, and I had been alone in that graveyard a long time. You were such a ray of hope that I dared to believe you were here to restore what was lost.”

“You don’t believe that anymore?” she asked.

Breanne laughed and shook her head. “No, I don't doubt it anymore. You are on some path that involves them, but to what end, I can't say. I wish I had been more involved in the greater games they were playing. Then maybe I could shed more light on what was happening. I suppose for most of us, simply having a safe place to play was more than enough. We didn’t need or want to get involved in the bigger schemes.”

“Why did Kevin allow the necromancers to make kingdoms in the first place?” Heather asked.

“Why wouldn't he?” Breanne replied. “For a long time, the necromancers and Kevin worked together on things.”

“They did?” Heather replied with surprise.

Breanne nodded with a faraway look. “Do you recall I told you that all the schools of magic came to their kingdoms to research and study?”

“I do remember you telling me that,” Heather said, her curiosity driving her on.

“They did that because Kevin had them all working on things. Most were magical solutions to problems and ways to establish a better system.”

“Like the respawn system,” Heather suggested, thinking of the letter Hathlisora left.

“Maybe, but I honestly don't know. One of them was a way to punish terrible players, but I don't know any of the details. There were all sorts of rumors about projects from ways to go into space, to other worlds.” Breanne paused at this point, tapping her lip as she glanced to Heather. “I recall something to do with other worlds was supposed to be headed by a woman who was very close to Kevin and his dragon.”

“Do you remember her name?” Heather dared, hoping for some more insight.

Breanne shook her head. “I can't seem to recall the name. I am sure I only heard it once or twice, but I am reminded of a gemstone when I think about it.”

“A gemstone?” Heather repeated as they climbed the stairs to the second level.

“I'm sorry, but I don't remember. If I recall her name, I will let you know,” Breanne said with a defeated tone.

“Well, we know there are other worlds, Abbadon being one of them,” Heather said to return to the earlier topic. “That strange place through the mirror is probably another. I wonder if the place the I found the crown is a third?”

“It is common knowledge there are other planes of existence,” Breanne agreed. “The internals and angelics come from these places.”

“So there was already a way to travel to them,” Heather suggested.

Breanne nodded. “Yes, but only to places where players spawned. The rumor was there were other places that held secrets or special purposes. I know the necromancers were interested in some of them, but I don't know why. I am sorry, I wish I could be of more help.”

Heather nodded as they arrived on the second floor, passing through her garrison of soldiers who saluted. She had significantly increased their numbers, adding captains and wizards to their groups. Now fifty men patrolled this level of the tower, and another twenty were scattered about above. She changed their outfits to match Gwen's colors and set them to neutral so visiting players would assume this was part of the city. Gwen meddled in some of it, raising two guards to be level fifty and equipping them with magical weapons. These would prove to be real challenges to all but the strongest players. They even spoke now, telling visitors that Gwen protected this region, and they had to obey her laws.

They went up to the fourth floor, finally arriving at a bare section of wall as Heather pondered all they had spoken about.

“Are you ready?” Breanne asked as she began to fade, taking her banshee form.

Heather nodded and reached out a hand, allowing Breanne to make her spectral and pull her through the wall. The sensation of passing through a layer of cold water swept over her, and a moment later, she was in a dark cave. She quickly cast her spell, assuming an undead guise, gaining its sight and resistances. Quickly they passed down the tunnel into the frigid interior and worked their way around the twisting passage to the lower path.

There it sat, the strange metallic blue egg anchored to the floor in ice, a slight white mist curling about its surface. Behind it was the shard of glass, resting on a stone pillar under two inches of ice. If not for the light it gave off, she wouldn't even know it was there.

“By any chance, can you reach into the ice and pull it out?” Heather asked.

Breanne shrugged and bent over the shard, studying it before reaching out with a spectral hand.

“It's much easier to make a player spectral than to make an object, and some magic objects can't be affected. Some even repel the effect,” she added as her hand passed into the ice.

“But you make objects spectral all the time,” Heather said, noting everything she carried became spectral with her.

“Those are things that are part of you,” Breanne replied. “Anything your carrying goes with you, but reaching down to pick up a key while immaterial is tricky. I have to touch it just right and make it immaterial without it falling into the floor.”

Heather saw her point and watched carefully as the glass shard moved, then came forward as Breanne plucked it from the icy tomb.

“Well, that’s one task done,” Heather remarked before turning to the egg.

“What do you think this is for?” Breanne asked as she studied the object in her palm.

“I thought we agreed it was keeping the room and the egg cold,” Heather said as she put her hands on the egg and tried to wobble it free.

“It doesn’t feel cold,” Breanne said as she held it between two fingers to gaze into the light.

“You can't feel the cold,” Heather grunted as she pushed against the watermelon-sized egg to no avail. “I can't feel a thing in this undead form.”

“I am banshee,” Breanne remarked. “Since I have a living form, I can still feel some sensation of hot or cold, and I feel nothing from this. It is pretty to look at, though.”

Heather slumped to the floor, unable to budge the egg as Breanne marveled at the stone. “I need a jackhammer,” she sighed.

“I told you it was frozen in place,” Breanne scolded.

Heather rolled her eyes and tried again, using her legs to push her back into the egg, but it didn't so much as budge.

“Alright, then I chisel it out,” she sighed and reached a hand out, speaking the command word for her scythe. It appeared out of black smoke, the glass like handle pulsing with electricity as she stood up. There was a strange whistling noise in the air as Heather turned around to see Breanne looking directly into the stone that now pulsed in unison with her staff.

“They are linked somehow,” Breanne said as she held it out. “It’s another sign.”

“As if I needed more,” Heather groaned and stepped closer. She couldn’t argue that the stone and the staff appeared to be made out of the same material, even glowing with a soft blue light. “Wonderful, more to add to my list of mysteries I will never figure out.”

“Don’t be so quick to assume you won’t figure this out,” Breanne offered. “It was obviously left here for you.”

Heather didn't doubt that at all, but it still offered no insight as to why. The day she made the staff, they all gathered around it and offered suggestions as to why it turned out the way it did. None of them seemed plausible, and Umtha's continued insistence that she could break the rules didn't help. Now she held it next to the crystal and wondered if perhaps it wasn't a piece of the staff, broken off somehow and hidden here.

“Why is everything about you related to the color blue?” Breanne asked as she looked at both objects.

Heather paused to consider that and remembered that the staff and the shard were no the only blue objects she possessed. Quickly she reached into her pouch and pulled out the ring, holding it up as it too pulsed in unison with the other objects.

“Now this is spooky,” Heather remarked as she studied the ring but didn't dare put it on.

“This is intentional,” Breanne said. “But what does it mean?”

“It means I need to get rid of the egg as fast as I can,” Heather said as she folded her palm over the ring. “And maybe leave the ring with it.”

“Oh, don’t be so foolish. Just because it doesn’t make sense now is no reason to be afraid of it. If anything, the egg might lead to an explanation of it all.”

Breanne’s tone was scolding, made even worse by the shrill nature of her banshee voice. Heather folded her palm over the ring and tossed it back in her pouch before turning back to the egg. She was going to have to be careful to chip the ice away or risk damaging the egg.

“Be careful,” Breanne said as if echoing her thoughts.

Heather began to tap at the ice with the point of her scythe, slowly chipping it away. It took ten minutes, but eventually, she had most of the base broken free and tried to push it again. With a snapping sound, the toppled to the side, and Heather scrambled to catch it before it fell over.

“Ok, we now have the egg,” Heather said as she dismissed the scythe and used both hands to lift the heavy blue oval. “And this feels cold,” she added in shock.

Breanne stepped closer, putting a hand to the egg and nodding in acknowledgment. “You're right. The egg is the source of the cold.”

“That simplifies transporting it,” Heather remarked. “Now, we don't need to figure out how to carry the crystal with it.”

“This raises another question, though,” Breanne said as she held the stone up. “We assumed the stone was here to keep the egg frozen. Now we don't know why it was here.”

“And it glows with my staff and ring,” Heather remarked. “Bring it with; I am sure the answer will reveal itself later.”

They retreated to the wall, and Heather hugged the egg tightly as Breanne pulled her through to the other side. Once downstairs, the egg was packed into the carefully padded acorn shaped container designed to blend into the palanquin. Breanne produced the stone for the others to gaze at, explaining the strange reaction with the ring and scythe.

“So they are related,” Frank asked as she stared at the shard.

“They must be,” Breanne replied and held the shard out to Heather.

“I don’t want it,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I have enough junk in my pouch.”

“Heather, please don’t be so stubborn,” Breanne said and thrust the stone in her face. “This was meant for you.”

With a groan, Heather took the shard that in many ways resembled Gwen's kingdom heart. She wondered briefly if it was a heart of some kind, but with nothing more to go on, couldn't be sure. It was tossed into her belt pouch with the other junk as she turned around to look at the palanquin.

“What about the crown?” Quinny asked.

“It’s in the treasure room with the magic door,” Heather said. “I am not bringing it with.”

“But what if you need it?” Quinny asked. “It has saved our butts twice now.”

Heather hated to admit it, but Quinny was right. However, the problem was moot.

“I have it marked with a word of calling. I can summon it to my hand anytime I need it,” she said. “I am hoping I won't, though.”

“I don’t like you putting that thing on,” Frank said.

“Why? You don't like seeing me lose control of my body?” Heather asked as her fear welled up again. She shut her eyes, regretting those words as the hurt showed on his face. “I didn't mean it like that. Besides, the last time I used it, I had full control, that other person didn't show up.”

“No, you did mean it like that,” Frank said. “And I agree with you. I hate the thought of somebody else having control over you. I even hate that somebody has left you a trail to follow. I just want you to see the world like I do so you can play and be happy.”

“It still isn’t right how I reacted,” Heather said. “I was so angry Quinny was in my body.”

“Why do you think I refuse to use the statue?” Frank asked. “I hate the idea of not being me, even for just a few moments. Now that I know somebody could steal that way from me, I have even more reason not to touch it.”

“But think of what we could do with it?” Quinny insisted.

“Nothing good will come out of switching bodies,” Frank argued. “When I look into Heather's eyes, I want to know it's her in there, not somebody else.”

“Awww,” Quinny cooed as Heather blushed.

Breanne cleared her throat and suggested they get on with the preparations so they could leave in the morning. Heather was grateful for her interruption and quickly brushed her yellow dress out and stood back.

“I will go and cover twelve skeletons in plants to carry it and act as an escort,” she said, turning to look to Legeis. “Are you sure about this plan of yours?”

“Yeah, this should work fine,” he replied and motioned to a two-wheeled cart just big enough to carry the metal pantry from the kitchen. “I will attach the handles to my armor and pull it with us so we will have access to better food.”

“What if it's part of the kitchen, though?” Frank asked, wondering if it was purchased with points.

“Then it will despawn when we get too far away and reappear in the kitchen,” Legeis replied.

“Let's hope it is a magic item, and we can transport it,” Heather said as she looked about the yard before her tower. The palanquin was ready, the egg secure, and they would even have cookies and cakes to feast on as they marched. All was ready for the next trail of breadcrumbs and hopefully some answers. In the morning, they would set out, but this time they would be careful. She ran a hand over the pouch at her side as she considered how they meant to hide her presence. Her eyes looked to the birdcage hanging inside as something tickled at the back of her mind. She couldn't help but feel she had been in that cage before.