A puff of dust was disappearing from between Dema’s thumb and index finger, like she had just snapped something apart. And then she burst out a bright flood of crimson blood, sealing the two inside a dark bubble, only illuminated by their gleaming bracelets.

That was, by far, the best dream Theora’s mind had come up with ever since she’d gotten lost. She felt numb and cold and obsolete; like an observer to the scene of her own rescue. She wanted it so much, and now she was seeing it play out around her. 

Her brain imagined Dema saying something, but there was no air, so there was nothing to hear. Dema was, however, smiling, as she held up her other hand and pressed the button of the… What was its name again? Airifier? Probably not.

Despite this being just a dream, Theora decided to help, of course. Watching Dema die had never been a pleasant experience, even if she made it through more often than not. The air-producing item slowly filled the space with atmosphere, aided by Dema pouring in mana, and Theora tried her best to warm up the area. She made her heart pump and her muscles contract to produce warmth; she pushed her own blood to break through her solidified capillaries.

Thus, Theora became an oven. She wasn’t sure if she would have been able to do that in reality too, but trapped in a figment of her own mind? Why not. That said, it was tiring; she already wanted to sleep — or to wake up — but Dema was cold and deserved to be warm, and it would be all the harder to hug if they were both solid.

“Bun Bun!” Dema finally let out when the air had filled, gleaming brightly. “Missed ya!”

“How?” Theora asked.

“Orb of Seven Wishes. Bam, there I am.”

Theora let out an incredulous laugh. Right, an Orb of Seven Wishes. If that wouldn’t have been too convenient. “They are very rare,” she let out, unsure why she was even scrutinising this so much; it was like she was spiting her own imagination.

Dema grinned smugly. “Our girl’s cracked the System’s RMG!” Then, she frowned. “Or was it ARG? Anyways, she can [Compute] System rewards and find the right circumstances to open them. So we had Bell save a quest reward for the right time and place, and boom. There’s the Orb. Took a while for her to crack it though, and then even longer to wait for the right alignment of variables.” She shrugged. “Not gonna lie, I’m probably butchering the explanation, but point is: Bam, I’m here!”

Theora took in a sharp breath, her lower lip wobbling. “I see.”

Oh, how tempting it was to indulge in this idea.

To have Dema back. To have her back, right here with her, and all fine and all Dema-looking and smiling. Theora couldn’t believe it. This was better than the best Theora could have ever hoped for.

“Alright,” Dema said, touching Theora’s ear. “Poof!”

Crack. “Mom? Are you there?” Isobel’s voice rocked back into existence. 

Dema beamed. “There we go. Can you hear her? Runs on mana, so I can keep it going all the way home. No more rationing your talking time.” 

“I can hear you,” Theora thought.

“Yay!” Iso went. “That’s good! Bell says hi.”

“Bell is fine?”

“Of course!” Isobel clacked her mandibles, and after a moment, added, “She says come home quick so she can stop collecting Pop at record rate. She actually polyped three times and I had to nurse her back into a squid…”

“What?” Theora giggled. “Isn’t she a jellyfish?”

“Yeah. But squid’s easier to say. And it looks almost the same…”

“That seems a bit…”

“She calls me an airhead, so we’re even. My head’s made of rock!”

Dema couldn’t follow the conversation, so Theora took a moment to relay all of it, and Dema nodded emphatically. “Yeah, right! You tell her, Iso.”

Yes, too perfect. But it was fine. Theora’s brain was being very kind. She thanked her own brain over and over again for allowing such a vivid vision.

In the meantime, Dema had slowly warmed up enough to start moving around the little blood sphere, and proceeded to create tons of little things. She made blood shelves, a blood comb for Theora to fix her hair, she extended the sphere with further compartments, giving little comments about how one of them was a bedroom and the other one was a room for relaxing and the third was a room for work and one with a vent for ‘visiting outside’, all the while she kept the poor little air-producing magical item running hot with countless mana-recharge cycles to keep it all properly aerated.

When she was done with all of that, and it didn’t take long at all, presumably because she was capped on mana, she proceeded to make large, condensed spheres of blood, not unlike the weights she made for Theora before launch.

“I could propel us by shooting blood,” Dema explained. “But Iso said it’s faster if I make weights for you to throw. But we gotta be careful — can’t throw them too hard or you’re gonna pull me apart. I can’t sustain as much acceleration as you.” She bobbed her head to the sides, and then clarified, “I mean, not gonna die or anything but we could lose each other. So no throwing too hard! We got endless weights and Isobel to guide us, we’re gonna make it home eventually.”

Theora nodded. Of course they were. Yes, yes.

“Can’t take many things with the wish,” Dema continued. “So I only took the air thingy so we can talk. Guess that’s fine?”

“Yes. This seems fine.” Theora hiccupped, and for an hour or two, just watched Dema make more and more weights to throw. To get them ‘home’. Theora offered help, but the world was blurry and her movements were slow from having been frozen for so long, and her mind was fogged out, and also, Dema gently pushed her into a corner and made a shelf for Theora to sit and lie in and told her to rest, and so Theora rested and watched it all play out, tucked away, her hands gently grasping a slab of Dema’s hardened blood.

While working, Dema absent-mindedly hummed a melody, and Isobel kept going on and on to ‘catch Theora up’ on everything she’d missed; not that she could pay any attention to what Isobel was saying at all, but the sounds in her head felt calming and comfortable, and that was probably the point.

The idea of hearing sound at all was great.

 

And so, for a few years, Theora imagined what it would be like to get rescued and go home. She was caught in a stupor as to how elaborate it all was. She’d sometimes woken up from dreams that felt just a tad too realistic, but here, her brain was flat-out outdoing itself.

Dema was busy; making weights to throw, refining their living area, gushing about all the stuff Theora had missed in the meantime. They had apparently lived in Dema’s house over the last few years, while waiting for the right moment to use the RNG manipulation. They had apparently also spent a lot of time travelling and questing together before that. Isobel had trained with Dema… and they’d visited the Land of the Dead; one of the few areas in the world Theora had never had a reason to visit in her long life.

Dema had apparently also met someone she liked a lot. She kept talking about that person with a shy smile.

On one hand, she was really happy Dema had found another person to be close to, and on the other, she wanted to squeeze Dema for a month straight to fill that slight pang of feeling a little left out. At the same time, Isobel was also spluttering story after story. Theora tried to keep up, but it was dawning on her that she’d have to ask to be told all of this again later.

And often, Theora fell asleep. It almost felt like proper sleep — not simply shutting down her mind, but allowing her body to rest. Sometimes, she vaguely noticed Dema cuddling close before dozing off. It felt like the thousands of little cracks the frozen temperatures had left in Theora’s flesh slowly healed back together. Her brain acted like it was going back to firing signals, and her body felt warm against Dema’s touch.

Dema had apparently spent a lot of time learning countless stories by heart, and was telling one to Theora whenever she woke up. As was customary for Dema, she had also forgotten more than half of each story by now, and was filling the gaps by improvising on the spot. This hadn’t immediately been obvious to Theora, but became more apparent as time went on. It was a reasonable assumption that when Dema started talking about crabs or little bunnies or gelatinous lifeforms, she was going off-script; especially since these storylines almost always went pretty much the same way.

And yet, Theora couldn’t get enough of them, even after hearing about the little bunny lost deep in its burrow for the hundredth time.

Isobel also talked a lot; she was live-reporting the situation at home. She talked a lot about some kind of plant she was watering every day, and she talked to Bell a lot too. In fact, the connection remained open almost the entirety of their journey, so Theora got to hear most of Isobel’s internal dialogue. 

Isobel was still working on understanding the ‘Brat’ — the seemingly sentient part of the System, and she was working on a new Skill she wanted to learn using data received through [Compute]. She also went on side quests a lot, sometimes for weeks, and asked for advice whenever she could. Not that Theora could provide much, she thought, although Isobel seemed to think differently and acted like she appreciated all of Theora’s input.

In addition, Dema crafted a lot of little games. She’d initially tried to remember the pieces and rules by heart, but it turned out to be a total mess, so instead, Isobel relayed everything. “Yes, one piece looks like a little horse. The other one looks like a tower. Each side has two of each of these. And then…”

“Wait,” Dema said. “Wait, I forgot. What happens when I have a full hand at the start of my turn?”

Isobel sighed after Theora had sent the question. “Dema, that’s a different game. That’s the one we explained before that.”

The rest of the time, Theora spent throwing Dema’s blood stone. They spent half of the journey accelerating, and then the other half slowing down to not hit earth too hard upon landing.

All things considered, it was impressive and a little embarrassing. How long had she been up there, lost in deep space by now? This was better than breaking a bracelet every few decades. 

 

And so, eventually, there was only one day left until ‘landing’ and Theora internally prepared for waking up. But on the off-chance that she would stay asleep and dream for a little longer, there was yet something she had to do on the surface. Something that would give her the peace of mind to leave this dream behind, and perhaps [Retain] it to relive it later.

She glanced at her System readout — they were back in range; had been for a while, but Theora didn’t have the heart to read the countless messages she’d missed. It would crush her, and probably make her jolt back into reality. But, she glanced at the description of her side quest. Time remaining: 18 years.

Dema was busy repairing some part of the hull that had been damaged by debris and Theora played some kind of card game against Isobel.

When Dema was done, she floated back into the room. “Almost back!” she cheered. “What’cha wanna do first down there?”

Theora stopped fidgeting her fingers at the question. She pulled her legs closer, and let go of the cards, letting them float around. Dema’s question was hitting hard, and she gave Isobel a short notice that her turn would take a while.

There was yet something to do on the surface, before she could find peace. She’d tried not to think about this too much. Tried not to let her mind wander. But now, she might as well face reality.

Helena. Balinth. Ulfine. Skuld. Fiantanne. Gonell. Lostina.

She took a shallow breath, and looked Dema in the eyes. Then, she swallowed, and forced herself to give the answer.

“I would like to visit every grave.”