"It's taken the better part of a week, but you're finally able to read with the skill of a child."

  Despite Karson's harsh words, the fact that he was praising me at all filled me with pride. Nomi's constant praise didn't have the same effect. I think it’s the difference in intent—Karson means it when he praises me; he wouldn’t say anything otherwise. Nomi, on the other hand, praised me simply to make me feel better or out of some sort of obligation.

  "Karson, what's a week?" I asked, puzzled.

  "If you don’t know what a week is, then how do you tell time down here?"

  "Well, in most places, I use the sun, but it's too deep in the city for that. Unless you're in the canyon proper or on the bridges connecting the two sides of the canyon, you won't see any sunlight."

  "I honestly hadn't noticed that," Karson admitted. "So how do you tell time?"

  "We use the timing of the tides. The water changes based on the time of day."

  I gathered up my scrolls as the giant, which I learned most people here called the Matron Mother, loomed in the back of my mind. Nomi was waiting for me by the door. Karson seemed like he might actually want to ask me more, but he didn’t. Reading the body language of a bloody robe isn't easy, but I've gotten the hang of it, I think.

  In my efforts to distract him to have time to study, I’ve definitely confirmed that Nomi is a boy but a surprisingly gentle one. He's receptive but has little to no initiative. It’s odd; I’ve never been with someone like that. I think I find it refreshing, but even if he were Ausawen, I don't think I’d want to breed with him. His fangs are too soft you might as well try breeding with a human.

  "Katari, what are you thinking about?" Nomi asked, his voice soft and curious. He hid the lower half of his face with his sleeves, and his eyes almost seemed to smile.

  I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Breeding." His reaction was priceless his whole body shivered, and he completely covered his face with those long sleeves.

  Pulling back from the embarrassed Nomi, I glanced down at my tail. Spending so much time in an aired room dried it out frequently. If it wasn't for Nomi washing my tail daily, I think I would have decided to move to a wet room within just three days.

  As I opened the door to head out, Nomi came to his senses and quickly followed behind me, rushing to overtake me. He was surprisingly adept on those crab legs, able to walk on the walls without any problem. It was quite amazing to see; it seemed like there were patterns in the stonework specifically designed for the Wushii.

  I had to learn that the reason the temple had air filled rooms like this wasn’t because of humans, as I initially thought. It was actually to grow exotic plants that only thrived on the surface. One of these plants produced small, round fruits called cherries, and they were absolutely amazing, even if they made my stomach cramp a little. Nomi showed me how they used the cherries, gathering up the juice and soaking meat in it. He brought out something called roast pork. I didn’t know what kind of animal a roast was, but if I ever made it to the surface, I was going to hunt down as many of these “roasts” as I could find.

  To my surprise, I found that I preferred surface meats, though that might just be because of the way they prepare them here. but, I don’t like the way they cook fish here. They change the flavor so much that it tastes completely wrong. For example, they cook it, it changes the flavor. It tastes all wrong.

  Speaking of meat, I still have the flesh ball in my backpack. I’ll need to get out of the temple soon to deal with it. Karson has been showing me how to keep the meat fresh; apparently, it’s much easier to manipulate dead flesh than living flesh, so keeping it from rotting hasn’t been too difficult. However, it seems to be getting smaller. I think I might be compressing it without meaning to, and as usual, Karson refuses to answer my questions.

  I often wonder what Karson really is. His appearance is that of a bloody robe draped in darkness, and I’ve started to speculate that he might be a spirit of murder. But that doesn’t explain why he’s so shiny. Karson is definitely smarter than most spirits, or at least more aware. The ones I’ve been reading about, like the spirits of flowers and trees, seem either extremely na?ve and trusting or stubborn to the point of unreasonableness. Apparently, trees are known for their fierce willpower, if the interactions between the fire mage and the Driftwood are anything to go by.

  As I mulled over these thoughts, I found myself gazing around the room, the air heavy with the scent of the various plants growing in the temple. The walls were lined with greenery that seemed out of place underwater, but they thrived here, nurtured by the careful balance of air and water. Nomi had been tending to them diligently, delicately moving with a practiced ease that belied his timid nature.

  I had spotted three other Wushii who helped tend to the hallway gardens, but I never bothered to learn their names.

  When he noticed me watching him, he smiled shyly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment in this moment, surrounded by the lush growth and the gentle sounds of water trickling through the room. It was a brief respite from the constant tension of learning and surviving in this odd place.

  Nomi led me deeper into the temple, guiding me through winding corridors until we reached a large, ornate door. The door depicted a beautiful Nahesa, much like the Matron herself, with arms spread wide as if welcoming someone into an embrace. The Nahesa was carved directly into the wooden doors, and the craftsmanship was so exquisite that it seemed as though she might slither out of the wood at any moment. I hesitated, almost reaching out to touch the carving, but thought better of it Nomi might not approve.

  Before I could dwell on it further, the doors began to move on their own. Startled, I instinctively slithered twenty feet back, my body coiling away from the entrance. When the doors fully opened, they revealed a dimly lit room bathed in a warm, nurturing light that seemed to embrace me as I entered.

  As I made my way down the sloped path, I saw her Matron, the towering Nahesa, beautiful and imposing, making me feel small and insignificant in her presence. Her upper body was both strong and graceful, her posture elegant. The flowers that grew in her hair had shifted to a soft, morning white, adding to her already majestic appearance. Her long hair cascaded down her back, covering most of her body from view, while her serpentine half, covered in shimmering scales, stretched around the room, reflecting the calming light.

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  Surrounding Matron were Nahesa of all sizes. Some were as large as me, but there were dozens of smaller ones—tiny Nahesa whose upper halves were no bigger than my hand. They wrapped themselves around her body wherever they could find space, their eyes filled with love for her. Though I was certain very few, if any, of them were her actual offspring, they clung to her with the same affection. One particularly adventurous boy had claimed a spot on top of her head, nestled among the flowers in her hair.

  “Ah, Katari,” Matron’s voice was serene, each word carrying the weight of centuries yet still sounding youthful. “I hope you find our temple welcoming. I’ve been able to make some time to personally tutor you. Forgive my choice of location; it is simply where I am most needed. I cannot bear to leave them.”

  Her voice, rich and soothing, resonated in the chamber. The tiny Nahesa clung to her, and she embraced them with a gentle strength that only a being of her stature could possess.

  “Yes, Matron,” I replied, feeling small and humbled in her presence. “But if I may ask, why are they taking the eggs?”

  Her serene face momentarily broke, a flicker of pain crossing her features. Tears trailed down her cheeks, and the boy sitting on her shoulder wiped them away with a tenderness that was heartbreaking to witness. She ruffled his hair in response, but the sorrow in her eyes remained.

  “The nursery is to be emptied of all unhatched children… To feed the Raroren. They will be sent off to be raised as nourishment,” she explained, her voice filled with sorrow and resignation. “A great honor for the children to join their bloodlines.”

  I echoed her words without thinking, my mind drifting back to the scrolls I had been studying, most of them religious texts. I had learned that Raroren souls were pure, their bodies formed by the gods themselves after the seas flooded the world, killing half of the ancient Aeons. Thúl, who had created the Aeons, was devastated by their loss, while Gaer Adar, who had caused the flood, sought to ease his brother’s sorrow by forming new bodies for their souls ones better adapted to the seas.

  Reading had taught me so much that I hadn’t known before, like why the Raroren were given so much freedom, why they were revered. But now, hearing Matron’s words, it felt different. The reverence for the Raroren, the willingness to sacrifice so much for them it suddenly seemed less like an honor and more like a tragedy.

  “That is sickening using children as livestock. This empire is vile,” Karson’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and filled with disgust.

  His words stung, but deep down, I knew he was right. Something inside me recoiled at the thought, a part of me that recognized the truth, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

  Without me realizing it, Nomi had left, never entering the chamber with me.

  "Katari," Matron's voice was gentle, "please indulge me by allowing me to speak in simpler terms for the young ones. I hope you don't mind."

  Thank the gods, I thought, relieved. I had been dreading the idea of sitting here for an hour, trying to smile and nod while struggling to keep up. That would’ve been miserable.

  "Please do," I replied with a slight smile. "I would love for the children to have a bit of entertainment."

  Matron’s serene smile broadened, a soft warmth radiating from her as she began. "Then let's start with Wells. A Well refers to the source of one's mana, the life energy that flows through us all. Everyone's Well is different, unique to each individual. But that doesn't mean two people can't share the same type. It just means there’s no predictable pattern to them. Some people go their entire lives without ever discovering what their Well is, and those lives are often far more difficult and much shorter than they should have been."

  Her voice softened, taking on a playful tone that seemed to capture the attention of the little Nahesa gathered around her. Their eyes were wide with curiosity, eager to absorb every word. "Wells can be something as simple as gold. If your Well was gold, for example, you’d do well to keep plenty of jewelry close by. But not all Wells are so convenient. Some might be broad, like stone, while others could be very specific, like marble. It’s all about where your soul draws its strength from."

  As she spoke, one of the flowers nestled in her hair began to grow and expand, its petals unfurling with a soft, ethereal glow. It was a stunning sight, and the children gasped in delight as they watched it bloom. Matron gently held the flower out to me, her eyes filled with a knowing glint.

  "Your Well," she continued, "is one of nature. I can't tell the specifics, but I believe you should be able to draw mana from this flower."

  I reached out and took the flower, its delicate warmth seeping into my palm. My first instinct was to eat it, but the Matron shook her head, her smile widening as the children burst into giggles. Embarrassed, I focused on the flower, trying to sense the mana within it. Slowly, I felt a familiar sensation, akin to the feeling I got when I molded flesh, a warm, vibrant energy flowing from the flower into me. It wasn’t entering my physical body, but rather it was being drawn into the core of my being, a place that felt like the meeting point between my body, my soul, and something far greater. It was as though I was connected to another realm, a land where my soul existed as surely as I did here.

  I glanced down and saw that the flower had wilted into nothingness, its life force completely drained.

  "Well done," Matron said gently. "Do not worry about the flower, but in the future, be more careful with how much mana you draw from something. Mana is the essence that makes up life. That's why it’s so important to find one’s Well. If the mana in your body stagnates and runs out, you would wither, just as the flower did."

  The children’s eyes widened with fear, their tiny bodies huddling closer to Matron. They looked to her for reassurance, and she was quick to provide it, her voice soothing. "Do not worry, children. This is simply the way of nature, something we all must accept. Life, after all, is a cycle of giving and receiving, creation and decay."

  She then turned her gaze back to me, her expression growing more serious. "Did you feel something otherworldly when you drew on your Well? Did you sense the land of the dead and what lies beyond?"

  Her words startled me, sending a shiver down my spine. I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could speak, Matron continued, her tone becoming more solemn and reverent.

  "Life is set upon three realms: the mortal realm, the spectral realm where the land of the dead and spirits dwell, and the place beyond death, where souls who have grown too weary of their second life melt back into mana. It is from there that souls form in the Mana Sea, but as your soul ascends through the spectral realm and into your body, it leaves a small hole. This is your Well, a remnant of the journey your soul took, a part of reality that lingers within you."

  As I listened, my head began to spin. This was more than I had expected to learn, more than I felt I could fully grasp in one sitting. The weight of Matron’s words, the depth of the knowledge she was imparting, left me feeling overwhelmed. I realized I’d need to spend much more time studying those scrolls if I was ever going to understand even half of what she was saying.

  The children, too, seemed to sense the gravity of the discussion, their earlier excitement now tempered by a little fear. They clung to Matron, seeking comfort in her presence, their tiny faces filled with a mix of wonder and uncertainty. Matron, ever the nurturing figure, wrapped them in her warmth, her voice soft and reassuring as she continued to guide us through the mysteries of mana and the realms beyond.