“I’d wish they’d stop looking at me.”

  Those words captured an entire week’s worth of my feelings after I returned from Lake Nyralith. I had broken off with Tinus and the Drokai for the year, minus our impending meeting, and I was back in Wraithwood. Now, I was getting stared at by everyone in the dining hall, by villagers who had nothing else to talk about over dinner but me.

  “I wish they’d stop looking at me,” Tyler mocked with a girly voice, puffing his invisible hair. “Oh, no. All of this attention hurts. Stop it. Stop it.”

  “I’m serious, you turd. Have I ever cared about looks?”

  “No, but I just figured that’s was because you were ugly. No point dressing up with you’re—Ow!”

  There’s a special place in hell for siblings, especially those who grin and make jokes in good faith.

  “Well I thought Mira was beautiful,” Fellio declared cutely. “And everyone else did, too. She was always charming. So take that back.”

  “Ah, so she was charming,” Tyler said. “So I’m just curious—what is she now?”

  “Extra charming,” Felio proclaimed.

  Aiden laughed, toasting his glass of beer and drinking. “Can’t deny that.”

  I blushed and turned away in frustration.

  “Come on, Mira,” Tyler said. “We’re just getting your goat. Besides, you need to practice for the harvest. If you think this is bad, just wait till everyone else sees you.”

  “I can’t wait…” I groaned.

  “Actually, I think you should. Wait.”

  I looked at Aiden and saw him wearing a serious gaze.

  “What?”

  “I think you should hold off on going to harvests. Once people see your face, every vain asshole in the Multiverse is going to send people to find out how you did that.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t just… stop. I’m actually obligated to protect the forest.”

  “That’s true, but… ‘you’ doesn’t mean you. When the Dante protects someone, they’re not talking about Typhus or even Hadrian. It means their people. And Wraithwood’s your people.”

  I looked at the table.

  “Oh, sure,” Tyler said, “you won’t let your people handle harvests, but you’ll leave your poor whittle brotha in their care for three months.”

  I looked up guiltily and saw him genuinely sassing me. He was a bit bitter.

  “Yeah…” I muttered remorsefully.

  “Mira,” Aiden said.

  I looked up.

  “We’re solid,” he said. “Talk to Trigan. I’m sure he’ll say the same thing.”

  I nodded and finished my dinner and went to bed. The next morning, I met with Trigan and our diplomat, Ferna, in the council chambers. The atmosphere was serious.

  “Did you manage to set a date with Tinus?” I asked.

  “Yes, he and Nethralis are coming tomorrow to witness you use a request on their behalf.”

  “On all your behalf,” I said. “I’m using an epic request to suppress information on Wraithwood, the Drokai, and the entire goddamn forest.”

  A cool silence passed through the room.

  “Hopefully, you can negotiate something with them, too. I’m going to be visiting Helfine every winter and summer for training—so we need to tell our people something.”

  “We’ve already handled that. We’re moving the end point to the edge of the Fifth Ring. No one will get near. If they do, we will not cause problems—but there will be punishment. No one should be that far north unless there’s a reason. We’ll communicate that after the meeting.”

  I nodded. “Good.”

  “Onto other business,” Trigan said. “The harvest. We think it’s best if you do not go this year. We’ve spoken to Serenflora and they agree that you should not be there, at least until the year of the auction—if ever.

  “You can fulfill your monitoring of the harvest with our troops. Malo is a legendary Dante, and his power has been greatly augmented by nightly threading and soul meat—as is the case with all of our troops. They are more than enough to monitor ruffians.”

  I bit my lip. “I… understand the obligations. But… I don’t trust people with my parents. And they like coming here.”

  “But you can trust Kline,” Ferna said gently. “He can enter under invisibility. You can also trust the Dante. They haven’t broken a contract in over a millennium. That’s why their power and reputation is so absolute. But just in case, we wish to build Wraithwood into a woodland resort as quickly as possible, and to convince your parents to retire here.”

  “And for us to protect them…” I whispered.

  “Yes. That brings up our next point of action: Aiden says that you have extravagant funds that Everen is transporting into Areswood next year. We wish you to authorize a portion of these funds to obtain supplies.”

  “You can have all of them except twenty percent, which will go to my family as a nest egg. I have no need for money. So use it solely for Wraithwood.”

  “Understood,” Trigan said. “We will use it wisely. As for Aiden…”

  Cold sweats dripped down my back when I heard their tone, and I panicked.

  “Aiden is a Wraith,” I said.

  “Aiden… is a Wraith,” Trigan said. “But he’s the biggest threat we have. Our soul pacts will protect big things from leaking. The Drokai. Your face. But the Claustra learn things from abstract puzzle pieces. Brexton will learn, for example, that you left through the winter, and that we did well without you. That there was no force stalking and killing us. It will confirm and disprove preconceived notions that you’re the reason people survive.”

  “Still…” I said. “Aiden is a Wraith. He’s only on contract with Brexton until the auction. But if he’s gone, he’s stuck there, and Halten… he’ll be locked up forever.”

  Halten was the vraxle that protected me with his life—the ex-guardian of Areswood Forest. Brother of Thorvel, prisoner of the Third Ring.

  “Mira…” Trigan said.

  “No,” I said. “There are certain things that define us. A vision. A… belief. And we live and suffer and die for these things. One of our beliefs and values is our people. And Aiden is one of them. He was the first of them. I told him that he could live with me when he risked his life to drop off supplies for me. Since the day Halten saved my life and protected me from the guardians. And since then, Aiden has become my friend. He’s helped our people. He befriended the lurvines that we rely upon to hunt and keep us safe. And come next week, next year, next decade, he will only be a strong asset for us. He can build an entire army of beasts to protect this forest. Aiden is our people, he’s useful—and we will welcome him here. People have died for far less.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Ferna looked from Trigan and back.

  “Then that’s settled,” she said. “But. If we’re going to go this route… how confident are you in Aiden’s social skills?”

  I frowned. “They’ve improved.”

  Trigan reflected on it. “Then this is what we’ll do.”

  He told me the plan, and I laughed. “Brexton’s going to see right through that.”

  “Not with me there,” Ferna said. “Brexton is going to leave very angry this year.”

  I grinned and looked at Trigan, who nodded.

  “Okay, okay. I love it.”

  Trigan smiled and pulled out a notebook. “Now let’s talk about what we’re ordering this year. I would like to authorize twenty million, and I will take care of general supplies. I need to know whatever you would like, personally, and I’d like to discuss one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Human capital. We need merchants to run your supplies, trades workers, agrarians, lawyers, for dealing with the outside world—and accountants. Wraithwood is growing because it has good people, so we wish to entice people here with luxury and gifts.”

  “Then do it,” I said. “You have my blessing.”

  “Unfortunately,” Trigan said. “Most of the cities and businesses are run by the families. Sometimes, money isn’t enough. And for that reason, I’m wondering if you value Wraithwood’s success on par with power, and whether you will spend your requests to succeed.”

  “Have ‘em,” I said. “I mean, don’t waste them. But I have magic that’ll take me decades to master, and I have the things I need. My one and only goal right now is to make Wraithwood appealing to my parents. To that end, any requests I have are yours.”

  Trigan nodded. “That’s… admirable. If you don’t mind me asking, can you tell me what requests you’re willing to part with specifically?”

  A smile crept onto my lips as I opened my guide and read off the contents. “I have five diamond, two platinum, and three gold free requests. In addition, I have a diamond equipment request, and two gold for blueprints you can use. I’d like to keep two diamonds to give to my family and their dog Poison Sense when the time comes. But I think that should be more than enough. Don’t you think?”

  I cut the guide and saw Trigan and Ferna staring at me like lobotomized rabbits. It was unreasonably satisfying.

  —------

  Trigan, Ferna, and I stood in that same room later that week, standing before Tinus and Netheralis and their elders. I spoke first:

  “We are here to discuss the use of an information suppression request,” Mira said. “Before I do, my Guide, my personal instance of the Oracle who is designed and tailored to only help me, wishes to clarify what it does, and provide advice regarding it. Lithco.”

  Lithco materialized in group visibility mode and bowed to them. “Thank you for having me.”

  Tinus was blunt and forward. “How do we know we can trust you?”

  “You cannot trust the Oracle, as it wishes to unveil the secrets of your forest. But you can trust its impartiality. It manages the multiverse, and if even a single person were able to influence its design, they would be able to rule millions of galaxies. Millions of civilizations came together to create the Oracle, and by virtue of their distrust of each other, they determined that the only way for the Oracle to operate was through ruthless impartiality.”

  “If that’s true, and you’re an impartial force, why are you trying to unveil the secrets of this forest?” Nethralis asked.

  “That is a straightforward question, but I must provide you with context to answer it. I am here today under the permission of Brindle Grask, and under the assumption that Scion Mira Hill will be using an epic request to suppress information on Areswood Forest, including you, her village, and others—an action that strangely runs counter to both of our interests.”

  “Brindle? What does Brindle have to do with this?” a Serenflora elder asked sharply.

  “Brindle Grask sacrificed a legendary request to obfuscate the history of this forest, so I needed his permission to provide it to you. Can I explain?”

  “You may proceed,” Tinus said.

  “Thank you.” Lithco scanned their faces. “You have asked why the Oracle wishes to unveil the secrets of this forest. The answer is simple—it’s because the Oracle believes it knows what’s stored in the Seventh Ring of Areswood Forest.”

  The hairs on my arms stood, as if exposed to static electricity.

  “You may think Areswood Forest has been here forever, that your species was born here—but that’s not true,” Lithco said. “Areswood Forest was planted over half a million years ago, and it’s likely that the Drokai settled it many years later as they, like so many others, tried to conquer it.”

  “That’s ludicrous,” Tinus said. “Our people have no records of such events.”

  “But we do. There is always a defining race, a single planet where any species first originates before they proliferate, and we have records of Drokai dating back an entire era. You can deny that, but you cannot deny the ground underneath your feet. We are here to talk about Areswood Forest—and Areswood Forest is part of the Domain system.

  “The Domain system separates the weak from the strong—and that’s what Areswood does. Fourth evolution beasts cannot enter the Fourth Ring. Fifth evolutions in the Fifth. You may think that’s an ancient mystique of Areswood, but it’s not. There are one hundred thousand planets on the domain system, and every single one of them has a vast array of networks underneath the soil.”

  Lithco showed pictures of aerial views of archaeological dig sites that exposed mind-blowingly large arrays created from obsidian underneath multiple planets’ soil.

  “Areswood is one of them, and you shouldn’t be surprised. The statues on the Empyrean Steps, north west of Misty Row, depict the Founders—the men and women who created this forest. Simple dating systems will prove that those statues have been here longer than the Drokai species. But what’s more important is that most of the plants in this forest predate Areswood Forest. We have evidence that a large portion of the biota in this forest has existed on other planets long before Dronami was settled—and that’s impossible without prior contact. That leads us to a simple conclusion: Areswood Forest isn’t a natural forest. It’s a garden of poisonous plants designed, in conjunction with the Domain system, to keep people out. Brindle, the only known individual to enter the Seventh Ring, seemed to agree. Because once he learned the nature of Areswood Forest, and that the Oracle was asking questions he didn’t like, he entered the Oracle’s network in exchange for a legendary request that forced the Oracle to manipulate history and obfuscate the nature of Areswood Forest, as well as himself.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Nethralis said. “If you wished to conquer this forest, why would you seek Brindle’s aid when you knew he would work to protect it from invasion?”

  Lithco smiled. “I wasn’t hiding it from invasion—I was protecting it from the wrong invasion. It was wide open, and the Oracle couldn’t afford others to use its processing power to research what it believed was in Areswood Forest. So I used the means at my disposal to limit information on it, as I could not do so myself.”

  Tinus’ eyes flickered with interest. “What do you think is in the Seventh Ring?”

  “The Domainic language used to created Domains.”

  I looked between them and said, “Isn’t that a good… thing? I can’t imagine letting mortals mingle with demigods being a good thing. That just sounds like chaos.”

  “It is chaos. It slows progress, destroys technologies, and creates planets ruled by warlords and violence. And that was inconvenient for gods who wanted fresh blood for their armies. So clever gods got an idea. Instead of conquering planets, they created an army of demigods and arraymasters called the “Founders” to terraform and populate planets—like Dronami.

  “Over a period of two hundred thousand years, countless Founders established over one hundred thousand planets in secret. And on each planet they create vast domain networks underneath the soil. These arrays are collectively known as domains.”

  Lithco referred to the images of the underground array networks.

  “Then, five hundred and thirteen years ago, tenth-evolution gods activated these planets’ arrays and used the segregation system and an unofficial Neophytes system to train people for their armies. It worked. Within only ten thousand years, the original gods who plotted the system’s creation dominated the multiverse in a series of catastrophic wars that cemented their power and authority.

  “For over four hundred and fifty thousand years, those gods, including Alendrias Dante, ruled this multiverse with an iron will. In response, every other lower god in the multiverse came together to create a counter system that could create soldiers for gods. They called it, the Neophyte system.”

  I barely noticed when I crossed my arms and cloistered. It seemed offensively explicit now.

  The first thing the Oracle did when it kidnapped me was to create a bullet point list of frequently asked questions, and one of them, in big bold letters, read:

  “My secondary objective is to provide Neophytes—mortals walking “The Path” toward power and immortality—with knowledge and resources. In doing so, I help groom Neophytes for the gods’ armies.”

  It was right there—right fucking there. Big bold text.

  “The system works,” the Oracle said. “But remember—I was created to combat the Domain system. And if the Domain system exists, the Oracle must both acquire it for its council, and also protect it from Domained gods. Therefore, the Oracle must protect it—and find ways to obtain it within the Oracle’s impartial restraints, which I assure you, is rather difficult. If it weren’t, the Oracle wouldn’t be sending young women to kill spirits with mushrooms.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Tinus asked.

  “Because Mira is about to use an epic information suppression request and I, as someone who’s tasked with obtaining the Domainic language and protecting it from the wrong people, wish to make you reconsider,” Lithco said. “It is not to prevent you from suppressing information on this forest. Mira’s information suppression request already suppresses information on her, her activities, her whereabouts, her people, and her acquaintances, so that’s pointless. The reason I’m here is to advise you on another usage for this epic request: hired muscle—

  “And a lot of it.”