Mirae raised her brow, tilting her head to the side. "You do?" she asked. Information about the owner of the journal was bound to be in what amounted to a personal diary, but information about Pippa's trial and this realm? That was not a given. Did this Kar person have something to do with all these puzzle doors?

With enthusiasm, Pippa nodded, biting her lower lip. She then turned to her mother. "This trial is to find an heir. It's not your typical inheritance being spread." She glanced down at the bound leather. "At least that's what Kar said. This is a legacy that this person is looking for."

Holding up the book, the white writing on the front glinting, Pippa smiled. "Kar had a purpose." Sighing, and her gaze fixed on the book, eyes shimmering with devotion. "And I must say, I feel quite a connection to them."

"They had a purpose, and you connected to them?" Mirae asked, trying to understand if she'd heard correctly, curling a strand of white hair behind her ear.

Pippa nodded enthusiastically. Mirae snapped her book shut, slotted it back into the row of shelves, and made her way over to the girl. Paper flapped as Pippa flipped the book open. Her finger slid across the pages until it stopped on a particular paragraph.

"Right here," she said, looking up from the words. The enthusiasm in her eyes dimmed.

Mirae paused, assessing the girl. Pippa rarely gave her opinion on anything before the trial realm. She was happy enough to tag along behind Mirae, selling flowers to anyone who'd come by. Many times, she'd just sit there and watch as Mirae went about her business—a perfect passerby in the world, almost.

"What does it say?" Mirae asked.

Her gaze shifted to Harry. He'd put down the book he'd been reading earlier and now focused on the girl's conversation.

"Well, here it says, 'Another day of wondering if I'll be enough. The master says that the core formation realm is a simple step for most, and for the likes of Tolden, that is indeed the case. We both started here at the sect together, yet he has far eclipsed my skill. I know it's wrong of me, but I envy Tolden—my friend and my rival. Why does everything come so easily to him while I must struggle? Is that the law of the universe? Is it some fairness wrought for my past deeds in a life I do not know I lived?'"

Pippa paused. Her gaze flickered up to Mirae, held for a moment, then fell back down.

Footsteps sounded at Mirae's side. Mrs Strongmail came over, crossing her arms and focusing intently on her daughter.

Pippa continued. "'Tolden continues to eclipse me year after year, and there are even talks that he's perhaps going to be a future sect leader—definitely an elder candidate. Why him? Why the boy whom I once saw as a friend and an equal? How has he left me so far in the dirt? I'm a joke.'"

Those last words trembled on Pippa's lips. She took a breath and sighed before continuing. A small smile came to her lips as she read the next part.

"'Whilst he is constantly out of reach—Tolden the legend he is—I have given up on catching up to him. That is a fool's errand, and I am no fool. Instead, I have accepted my place. The Great Light Sect needs many artisans, as well as craftsmen, and I make the finest tools. Tolden himself wields many of my crafts. Thus, whilst I may not be as naturally talented in the art of fighting, I have my own skills, and I shall exploit them to their very end. Tolden may have the elders' eyes when it comes to power, but I shall have their hearts in terms of the bare necessities. My strengths are what I will use to excel.'"

Those last words left Pippa triumphant. She brushed the side of the book gently with her finger and nodded. Her eyes sparkled in a way that signalled the coming of tears, but she held back, shook her head, and sighed.

"He and his friend were so close," she muttered. Her eyes moved timidly and locked with Mirae's. "He and his friend had been equals, practically brothers, but he found himself left behind, abandoned almost. But in the end, he found peace."

Pippa looked back down, flipping to the relative end of the journal. The page peeled open with a crisp turn. Then, with the soft dabbing of a finger on paper, she began reading.

"'I eventually took over the sect. Tolden, my dear friend, gave up his life so that I and many others could live. For all he excelled, he was never arrogant and had a good heart—kept the sect and his friends firmly within it. I will miss you, my dear friend, and I shall make sure the legacy of the sect continues. Rest in peace.'"

Water dripped somewhere out of sight, echoing around the room. Silence heavy in the air.

A breath slipped past Harry's lips. He shifted his weight off the table, turning and reaching for a book. His fingers began drumming on its surface. "That was kind of sad, really."

Mirae shot him a glance. Sad was putting it lightly. The man had talked about someone he was chasing, ultimately losing him in the distance. She couldn't imagine living that way. It sounded like torture.

That was probably why she never really put much thought into the competition between her and others. She was just happy she could cultivate, let alone trying to make sure she was the strongest in the room. Hector did that enough already.

A tear streamed down Pippa's cheek. It fell through the air, shimmering before splashing onto the desk.

Mirae frowned and stepped over to the girl. "Are you alright?" she asked, reaching out a hand.

"Yes, what's wrong, my dear?" Pippa's mother asked, a frown pulling at her lips.

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"As I said, I see myself in Kar's words," Pippa said, resting the book on the desk. Slowly, she turned her head to face Mirae, meeting her eyes yet again. "I've always been behind you, Mirae. In a way, I've always been chasing after you."

Her gaze cut to her mother. "Especially with your encouragement, Mother. You always told me to be more like Mirae—more outgoing, more ambitious."

Mirae scoffed, stepping back and resting a hand on her chest. "I'm not ambitious. I just like to sell flowers."

"That was more than enough. After all, not everyone can sell something," Pippa said. The words hung heavy in the air.

Mrs Strongmail frowned even deeper and took a step toward her daughter. But Pippa pulled back, and the older woman froze as she stammered, words failing her.

Mirae glanced away from the woman. Had she really encouraged Pippa to be more like her? More like someone whose main priority for the last few years had been making sure her hair was the correct length. Washed the correct way, and kept at a certain level of cleanliness in a filthy environment, such as the slums?

That stung Mirae. Because it meant someone—her dear friend—was encouraged to be like her in some way against her own wants and needs.

Pippa nodded. "I'm not upset by it, Mother. If anything, I think you're right."

Her hand rested on the surface of the journal as she traced her finger across its rough leather surface. "I've had my own path to struggle through, and I think in trying to follow Mirae, I found the perfect way to walk it. You were the spark, Mirae, for my own ambitions, and I think this might be the fuel."

Gesturing around the room, Pippa nodded to herself. Her purpose seemed to become clearer with each word. This story, Kar's effort to find his own path—and his eventual success. It meant something. It meant she could do the same thing.

Pippa reached for Mirae's hand and gripped it firmly. The warmth of her skin radiated against Mirae's own.

"This journal gives me hope. While you excel in your own way, Mirae, especially in combat—" Her gaze turned to the two puppets standing behind them, guarding the door from any entry. "And that's a good thing. But I will find my own thing to do, my own way in this world. Kar made this trial to do just that."

She shot a glance at Nyx, who stood at the back with shadows shrouding her form. "If anything, I think by coming to this room, I know exactly what Emela is facing and perhaps how to help her with that."

"You do?" Nyx said, stepping away from the wall and rushing forward.

Pippa nodded as the girl closed in. She turned to Mirae, determination filling her eyes. "This journal—no, this trial—was meant for me. I think it's destiny, you know?"

An odd sense of wonder caught in Mirae's chest as she took in Pippa. Was this the same girl she'd grown up with? In many ways, it was. But she'd changed. She'd become something more. Someone that Mirae would be proud to call her friend.

"I need to complete this trial, Mirae, and I'll need your help to do just that. No more standing behind you. Now we stand together. And Kar will help me do just that."

Picking up the journal, Pippa held it closer to her chest, as if it were a baby and she its mother.

Harry shot a glance between the two of them, letting out a strained chuckle. "You're not planning to join some kind of cult, are you?" Harry asked.

Threateningly, Pippa raised her book. Harry recoiled.

Trying to process everything, Mirae turned to the bookshelf. Too many books to count lined the shelves. Would all this be left here, lost to time? She wasn't a collector, to say the least. Her reading skills allowed her to comprehend the basics of what she needed to know for her day-to-day. Gardening was more her alley, but perhaps someone would find some interest in these volumes.

As her thoughts turned to Pippa's confession. Guilt mingled with exasperation in her chest. She hadn't asked for any of this or even been trying to be someone Pippa would chase, yet the girl chased regardless.

Perhaps she should have known. Perhaps she should have seen it.

She didn't want to make Pippa feel inferior to her. They were friends, for crying out loud—equal in every way. They'd even shared the same bed a few times when Pippa slept over. By the Great Lake, this whole notion was ridiculous.

Mirae's eyes moved to Mrs Strongmail. The woman shifted from side to side, gaze glued to her daughter. Did guilt eat at her? Was she embarrassed at being exposed in such a way? Mirae certainly would have felt that way if someone had exposed her like that.

Sighing, Mirae walked to the bookshelf. In a way, it was beautiful that Pippa had found her own thing. And Mirae was indeed proud to call this new Pippa her friend. Though the girl did seem rather intense about it being destiny.

Mirae didn't exactly know if destiny had a part to play in anything anyone did. Everything just felt like luck and the right place at the right time. But she wouldn't run and tell Pippa that, wouldn't try to dampen what she'd found.

It was bad enough that the girl had expressed that she was chasing her. What would Pippa do if the same person she was trying to chase cut off that last hope?

No, Pippa needed this.

Mirae stopped. Her hand reached for another book, caressing its surface. Tales of the Underdark, the cover read. Another storybook, perhaps. She nodded to herself.

"Are you alright, Mirae?" Pippa called from behind her.

Her thoughts stalled. Spinning on her heels, Mirae smiled and sniffed the stale air of the room. She'd support her friend. She had to.

"Pippa?" Mirae said. "Are you sure about this?"

The girl nodded. "As sure as I've ever been."

Mirae raised her book in return. "Then you can count on me. No matter where this goes, I'll have your back."

Mrs Strongmail crossed her arms, looking between the two of them as if she didn't know what to make of this. Mirae didn't pay her any mind. Part of her was a little frustrated that the woman had even put such ideas into her friend's head, but she couldn't exactly judge.

Though she'd never interacted with her own mother—save for the hologram in their garden basement—she'd seen others around the slums. Mothers always felt they should impose their views of the world on their daughters.

"All right then," Mirae said. "I take it we're finished here?"

"She hasn't answered my question," Nyx spoke up.

Turning to her, Pippa shifted her weight.

"How are we going to help Emela?" Nyx questioned.

—- —- —- —-

Hector couldn't remember the last time he had been this uncomfortable travelling through a forest. The Shade Forest—for all its mist and giant Wyrm chasing them—hadn't been nearly as unpleasant as this miserable Podlian Forest.

Puddles were everywhere. The small Indigos, after the slaying of their leader, had rallied and now came at them in small packs. A nuisance, to say the least.

So when, a few hours later, they spotted smoke in the distance, there were two reactions. Lincoln's was immediate—he suggested heading straight for it. Then there was Jodie, who advised caution.

Hector was more inclined to agree with the cautious approach.

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