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Once I open my eyes and see the sky rather than the ceiling I'm used to, I almost sadden myself with how unsurprised I am. I remember everything all too clearly. My home is in ruins, shattered by the worst aether storm that this world has ever seen. And wherever I am now, I'm too far away to even see what the damage is like, or to see if anyone survived. I had family. I hope I still do.

I wallow in my state of quiet dismay for several minutes, the gentle gray tide's chill permeating me in my entirety. The storm must have truly been massive to keep the sea in motion this long; it's usually stagnant and lifeless. A depressing scene, to be sure, but given recent occurrences, I would prefer it to this. I tire of it before too long, and begin to pick myself up out of the water.

I shouldn't be this calm. I should be sobbing on my knees on the ashen beach. Ever since my "death", I've changed. I've become detached. That should scare me. I wish it scared me. I try to tell myself that now is not the time for a personal crisis, but quickly correct myself; it is the perfect time for a personal crisis. Everyone I love is potentially dead, and I'm an indeterminate number of skoels away, so I can't even know.

I manage to eventually tear myself out of this somber limbo. As cathartic as it would be to allow myself some time to grieve over my misfortunes, I need to focus on survival. I won't starve very quickly, but I do need fluids. The ocean won't be a good source of that; undead or not, the arsenic concentration won't do me any good. For the first time since I woke up, I turn and regard the island. It's a maze of bluffs and sheer drops. It'll be hard to navigate.

>>>>>>>>>

My recollection is interrupted as fingers dive in and my captor lifts me by my midriff out of her canine jaws. The humidity of her breath is quickly lost in the air outside.

"This doesn't feel like the beginning to me," she says, dangling me a little too high for my liking. "And has anyone ever mentioned to you that your pacing could use work? I asked what happened, not how you felt about what happened."

"I get really into it," I defend, my ears folding. "I thought I'd omit the whole 'life at home' thing for now; that's a little boring." In honesty, that's not true. There's just a lot that she doesn't need to know.

"Fair enough, you can always tell me about it once we're better acquainted," she chuckles. "Anyway, can you get to the part where you stop being on the beach?"

"I was getting there."

"Perfect." With that, she stuffs me back into her mouth, face down on her flat tongue. As odd as it is to say, I'm getting used to this texture. I might even enjoy it if not for the implications of it. I wonder if there's a psychological syndrome for that.

I try to get situated without slipping into her throat again, and find my spot in my tale again.

>>>>>>>>>

After a couple of hours of wandering, I finally got the idea that it'd be easier to tell where I'm going if I climbed up top. It would have been difficult, I'm sure, but I opted to cheat. Born with the Strain of magic that I was, short-range teleports aren't too much of a problem for me. They do take quite a bit of energy in comparison to other sorts of spells but upon feeling the wind in my fur for the first time since entering the claustrophobic confines of the maze, I decide that it was well spent. Leaping the gaps proves easy enough, and I quickly cover more ground than I could have before. It's not long before I reach the opposite coast. It's a small place, evidently. Scarcity of plant life means that I don't have a lot to work with for shelter.

After a few more minutes, I find that the forces of fate and chance have decided to take pity on me. Embedded in one of the bluffs facing out to sea is a small hut. It's a sad patchwork of crude bricks and sheet metal but it seems solid. It doesn't look like anybody has been here in a while. I walk up to the door and quietly try to open it. It responds by creaking loudly, but does open nonetheless. There are two bolts on the inside that I can use to keep it shut when I need it to be. How awkward would that be, though, if the previous resident did show up to find someone else here? By awkward, I of course mean terrifying, for the both of us.

The interior is dusty and drab, with a single table and chair, and a foldout shelf affixed to the wall for a bed. It's not quite as similar to a home as it is to a bunker. One corner of the room has a counter with a microwave oven and a single gas stove. I don't trust trying out either of those in case of flammable gas in the air here. I don't much care for being burned, especially on account of being covered in very flammable fur.

There's a door at the back of the room, bolted shut from this side. I assume it's a closet or pantry, possibly containing canned food. I put my ear to the door just to check for danger, waiting several moments. No sound. With that done, I remove the thick bolts and pull the door open.

I immediately shut the door again, hastily resetting the bolts and stumbling back. Given my magical affinity for it, you would think I would have shaken my fear of the dark long ago. I thought I did too. But I have just peered into the darkest darkness I've ever seen. I don't think I want to open that door again. Part of me wants to go out and find a different place to make my base, but finding another location as complete as this one, as well as unoccupied, is unlikely. But maybe there's a reason it's unoccupied.

I shake my head; I'm worrying too much. I mean, basically the worst thing has already happened. If I can survive an aether storm, I can sleep a few feet away from a scary steel door. It's as thick as my forearm is long, so it's not like anything is getting through it anyway. But even as I shut the door, the anxiety beyond it has come to join me. There's always going to be that nagging worry in the back of my head now.

I'll come back here later. It's next to a somewhat prominent stone spire, so it should be easy for me to find again. I have nothing else to do, so I should explore, and maybe see about getting myself some form of protection. Protection from what, you might wonder? This place is dead. The thing about that, is that most undead are a lot closer to a dead thing than they are a living one. That said, most will mod themselves up to be able to take extended trips along the ocean floor. In the event of someone showing up and turning out to be not so friendly, or worse yet, be a full-blown Aberration, I will need a physical weapon. After all, aura can dissipate magic, but it can't dissipate a lead pipe. Or whatever I'll end up using. I hope I can manage something a little wieldier than that.

I spend a while walking along the gray beach, before coming to what I firmly believe is the only green that exists on this rock. A small grove of trees, twisted and gnarled; most of them dead. But a handful of them have managed to survive, and even flourish, as well as anything on this planet can flourish. The ball of corrupted aether that serves as Paliputra's sun doesn't provide very much in the way of light.

Unfortunately, as hopeful as the sight of trees is, they don't seem to bear any fruit. Like I said, nutrition is not such an urgent need, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like a bite to eat. But at least there's wood.

Browsing through the branches, I pick up one every now again and strike the ground with it. Barely a splinter, from some of them. Sturdier than I expected. I can work with this. I eventually decide on one that comes up to about chest height, and after peeling as much bark off as I can, I begin to take it back to the bunker.

Once I'm back, I sit down and begin working on it. Lack of tools should make this difficult, but I have my ways around that. I focus my energy to the fingertips of my right hand, opening a miniscule void rift. A lot sharper than any knife, but I don't want to exhaust my aura, so I'll have to do this a little bit at a time.

After spending some time on it, I manage to get a crude smooshed cylinder shape out of the upper half and I have the foundations of a handle at the bottom half. I had to cut off quite a bit of it, so the final length will probably be about half my height, if even that. Not that I mind; that's certainly more manageable. Not as much heft as some things, perhaps, but the shape of it should allow for rupturing skin if the situation calls for it. I take it inside with me and set it down by the door; I'll finish it later.

The sun has almost set; once it does, the five suns of the holy worlds will be visible in the night sky, although far and dim in appearance from all the way out here. Most people say that our sky is the most beautiful, but all it ever does for me is make me jealous and bitter. I think they're just trying to stop themselves from being bitter and jealous by repeating hopeful things to themselves. After all, nobody is going to waste time coming all the way out here to tell them they're wrong. The fastest ships in the whole Sunsphere will still take nearly two weeks to get here.

I look away from the sinking orb, shutting the door and bolting it. I underestimated how dark it would be with the door shut. I shut my eyes and roll them upwards quickly, activating a conduit for infrared vision, affording my eyes a slight amber glow. An unintentional side effect of the functionality, but it's caused me no problems so far. Even with this method of sight, there's still not a lot to see in here, but vaguely colored outlines allow me to find my way. About halfway to the bed shelf, I remember the door that bothered me so much earlier. I turn around, grabbing my makeshift weapon and leaning it against the wall closer to the shelf, well within arm's reach.

With that done, I remove my scarf and fold it up where I'm going to lay my head. There can be some comfort in resting on a flat piece of wood after all. I position myself as cozily as I can, but ensure that my tail doesn't hang off the side. After deactivating my infrared sight, I keep my eyes shut and try to sleep. As much as an oxymoron as that is, I manage it, after maybe an hour of lamentations I didn't get around to having earlier.

What I presume to have been a few hours passes, when I jolt awake suddenly, and find myself in something I can't quite tell is real or a nightmare. I sit upright, sensing something amiss right away. I turn my infrared back on, immediately focusing on the thing I dreaded, but the door is still shut tight.

Then why do I feel so afraid? There has been a quiet unease in here since I got back, but that's normal when sleeping in strange places, isn't it? I try to find logic in this sensation, hoping it will bring me some calm, but when the reason finally does become known to me, any hope of calmness goes out the boarded-up window. I'm not alone after all.

When I opened the door earlier, more than just a sense of anxiety followed me out, and I realize this when my guest- or am I its guest? -who is perched beside me, unseen, and as heatless as death itself, breathes four words onto my vulnerable neck.