Die. Respawn. Repeat.

Once the pain in my skull fades, I note that I feel a lot better—maybe Zhir was telling the truth. I certainly don't feel like I'm out of Firmament anymore, though it's possible that has more to do with... whatever it is about Inspirations that causes time to freeze around me. I've always felt that this place is more mental than physical, even if Kauku's abilities tend to blur the line between the two.

"I would enjoy hearing your tale regardless," Kauku says casually, leaning back against nothing in particular. "I don't get much entertainment here in the void, you see—let alone company. Rare enough that I get an Heir of my own and the opportunity for conversation. Surely you can indulge me?"

I'm all too cautious of the warning that was just shot into my head. Try not to let it reach Kauku. I have no idea what this "it" is, and I'm assuming if my future self could have been any more specific, he would have.

But I don't need to. As far as I know, Kauku is entirely inaccessible except via Inspiration, exactly like this. If my future self is telling me that something was able to gain access to him...

Well. That means that more likely than not, they were able to gain access to him through this. Through the process of selecting an Inspiration. It shouldn't be possible—not with the way reality itself freezes to a stop to allow for this process—but there has to be a reason I sent myself this warning.

Until I have more information, it might be best to either not trigger future Inspirations at all, or to do these as quickly as possible. Or at least keep both to a minimum.

"I'm afraid I don't have time," I say. "I'm sure you've been watching. You know exactly what I've been up to."

"Quite." Kauku grins at me, all pretense vanishing. "I must say, you're doing even better than I expected. I've outdone myself."

"You've outdone yourself?" I raise an eyebrow.

"In acquiring a brilliant Heir, of course!" Kauku practically preens as he says the words. I'm... reasonably sure that he's joking. "I expect you're here to refill those Firmament reserves of yours. And to choose your next Inspiration."

"And I'd like to do so quickly," I say. Kauku tilts his head at me, curious.

"Any particular reason?"

"That depends on how much you can observe," I say dryly. "But I've been told I shouldn't let something reach you. I haven't figured out what that means yet."

No point hiding it. Kauku's powerful enough that he can probably protect himself from it, given enough advance warning—and that gives me a better shot at preventing that future than if I just left him in the dark. I'd be mortified if I tried to keep it a secret and whatever it was got to him for exactly that reason.

Kauku, however, tilts his head, his eyes narrowing at the nothingness in front of him. "You received a Paradox Warning," he says. It's not a question. I wonder if he has something like an Interface, too. If he does, it's drastically different from anything I or the Integrators have access to. "I can usually detect those... This one slipped past me due to its timing."

"Do you know what it's talking about?" I ask.

"No," Kauku says, "but I thank you for the warning." He hesitates for a moment. "I am not eager to be found here."

I blink. That feels like the truth—I wasn't expecting such a straightforward response from him. "Good?" I say, slightly thrown off. "Can you tell me why?"

"I cannot," Kauku says dryly. That's a lot more in line with what I expect from him. "But if you are concerned... it is unlikely that spending more time within this pocket of space will give anything access to me. No: if I am to be found here, then whatever your future self claims will find me either already has everything they need, or will acquire it regardless of your actions."

"You're very sure about that," I say cautiously. He tilts his head, and an enigmatic smile flickers in his eyes.

"Time is not so easy to change," he says. "Simple enough to tie into knots, to push and change and shape in small ways. But to divert its path entirely, the way your future self hoped to? That requires a far greater power than yours."

"What about yours?" I ask impulsively. Kauku eyes me for a moment.

"That," he says, "remains to be seen."

Then he waves a hand, and with a dizzying swirl, the void around me changes.

Again, three pedestals stand before me. Again, they each contain shifting, fractal shapes atop each of them.

Yet there's something that feels a little different about them compared to before. I frown slightly, stepping forward, and within me I feel the Knight begin to stir.

They match, for lack of a better term. I catch a glimpse of steel and nobility, of armor and pride, in the fractal shapes nested atop every pedestal.

"These are new Forms for the Knight," Kauku says, confirming what I'm thinking. He sounds proud, oddly. Like he's personally responsible for them in some way. "I would not normally tell you quite this much, but seeing as you have done me quite the favor by informing me of this incoming threat..."

He trails off, considering. "An Inspiration triggered via the Firmament category will give you new Evolutions entirely; any of the other categories will give you an additional Form for your existing Evolutions."

And in this case, I'd triggered the Inspiration I gained for crossing the Speed milestone. I glance again at the pedestals with this new information in mind, and to my surprise, I can make out some of what he's saying.

Because each of these pedestals contain the seed of a Concept. If I had to put a word to it, to explain what they are...

They're Concept-Bound.

Kauku makes a low, approving noise in his throat, almost like he read my mind and approves of the conclusion. I ignore how alarming that thought is—there's little I can do about it at the moment—and approach the pedestals again, reaching out with the new sense I gained from fighting that Abstraction.

It takes a lot more work than just using my Firmament sense, but I can sense it, now. The first pedestal contains the Concept of Flight, I think. Presumably, it's a Form for the Knight that gives me airborne mobility, and modifies my skills to be compatible with that skillset.

As much as I'd like to be able to fly, I dismiss that almost immediately out of hand. There aren't enough practical uses for it when I can freely teleport and direct my acceleration, and while I'm sure the application of the Form will give me entirely new options in combat, my current battle is about to take place in a tunnel. Airborne options are not what I need right now.

The second pedestal is a little harder to figure out. I catch a glimpse of perpetuity, of motion and creation. If I had to find a word for it...

Generation. A Form that creates power and redistributes it along the Knight's body, at a guess.

The third one is even more complex. I get the impression of a shortcut, of spatial compression, of navigational perfection. It's a Form designed to slip from one space to another undetected.

Tempting, and stealth is certainly an area I'm lacking in, but as I consider it I hear a grumble from the Inspiration within me. It's still mostly asleep, but the Knight does not seem to like the idea of stealth.

I snort. Yeah, that fits.

"You know, we might actually need that one day," I say, reaching out mentally and probing for a reaction.

The Knight cracks open a metaphorical eye. "We will crush all that stands in our way," he growls. "There is no need for the coward's path."

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"Good word for it," I muse. "The Form that takes the quickest Path..."

"No," it growls again, although I get the feeling it would acquiesce if I really pushed for it. I don't, in part because I've already made my choice; the third Form isn't what I need at the moment.

"If I may make a suggestion," Kauku says. He has his hands folded behind his back, and he's watching me with a strange look on his face. Interest, I think.

"Sure," I say. Couldn't hurt.

"Take the second one," Kauku says. "The Generator Form. You are out of Firmament, and your friend is partially right; triggering an Inspiration like this will restore what you've got. But your opponent is a Concept-Bound. The meager Firmament stores of a third-layer will not be sufficient."

"Did you have to put it like that?" I ask blandly. "I beat the Abstraction just fine."

"An impressive feat," Kauku allows. "But it did not fight you. If it had, the outcome would have been very different. It wanted to be dead as much as you wanted to end it."

A fair assessment, I have to admit. The Abstraction didn't fight me at all once I showed it I had the power to end it; it seemed to just accept what was coming. If it had resisted, if it had dodged...

I'm not at a place where I can fight something like that freely. Not yet.

"You are not ready to use Submerged skills," Kauku continues, startling me. "The Generator Form will give you the control you need to only partially fuel the skill. Do not repeat what you did before until you are at least at the fourth layer; if you pour all your Firmament into one skill like you did with that Primordial Foray a second time, especially this soon, you will die."

He steps close, as if to impress upon me how serious it is. "Heed my words. Do that again and your soul will pop like a balloon."

That's... not an analogy I was expecting.

"You strained your core way before it was ready." There's a sort of begrudging respect in Kauku's voice, and he folds his arms across his chest as he stares me down. "It will likely help you achieve the next phase shift, but if you do that again before healing? Your core will burst. I warn you now because you are the type of Heir that will do it again if I don't."

He's not wrong there. "Thanks," I say, and I mean it. I reach out for the second pedestal, but before I grab hold of the new Form—

"Am I on the right track?" I ask. "I assume the Ritual is your doing."

Kauku blinks, looking confused for a moment. Then he seems to remember himself. "Quite!" he says cheerfully. "Keep doing what you're doing. I'll see what I need to at the end of the Ritual."

I frown slightly at that reaction, but before I can think any more about it, Kauku grimaces, scratching at the back of his head. "Seems the information you gave me was quite valuable," he mutters. "I should not let you leave without giving you more. Very well. That thing you have been thinking about. Skill categories. You have all the pieces you need. You just need to put it all together. Do it before your next phase shift, and you will have an advantage no Integrator does."

...Huh. Interesting. All the pieces I need? I'd assumed I was still missing something. I cast my mind back, trying to remember what might be relevant.

At the same time, I reach for the Generator Form—

—And I feel the Knight stir.

Ahkelios didn't know if he'd done the right thing, letting Zhir take control as he had. So far, his other self had kept his word—he'd pit all their shared resources directly toward dealing with whatever trouble Ethan had managed to get into.

Though he had lied. Ahkelios had learned almost immediately on their merge that Zhir didn't really have a solution for defeating an Abstraction. Of course he didn't. He'd known about them, but he'd never once encountered a force strong enough to beat them back.

They both felt it when Ethan defeated it anyway. Ahkelios felt the shock from Zhir and seized on his chance. It was just enough of a distraction to create a crack in his other self's psyche...

But that wasn't what had lost Zhir the fight. It had expedited things—Ahkelios thought he might have lost more of himself if not for that chance that he'd seized—but the truth of the matter was that they both knew who would win the moment their minds made contact.

After existing for as long as he had, after experiencing years of nothing but an empty, colorless city, Zhir was no longer anchored. He was driven only by a desire to survive, to see his home again, and while that desire wasn't a weak one...

He no longer had anything he believed in.

And Ahkelios, for all his flaws and doubts, did.

Back when he'd been a Trialgoer, Hestia's Trial made him feel like the things he cared about didn't matter. Like his home didn't matter. Zhir's memories flooding into him reinforced that—he remembered losing hope with every Trial, remembered losing himself to the loops, because the cyclical nature of time just taught him that nothing mattered.

His home was nothing. What his people cared about was nothing. They were all pawns in a greater game. What use was his love for art when all that remained was destruction?

And then there was Ethan. The human that had gotten stuck in that very same loop, who knew nothing mattered, and... didn't care. Made it a point not to let it change him, to treat everyone he met like a person even when the next loop would just turn it all back.

It was that determination that helped Ahkelios remember what he'd once loved. Every act of kindness, every time he cared, every time he paid attention to something Ahkelios ignored—they made new discoveries, met new people, learned more and more about Hestia and its inhabitants—

Ahkelios remembered the beauty of Isthanok. The shards of crystal in the sky, reflecting and refracting the light from the sun.

His world held crystals like that. They were crystalline mountains, not towers and cathedrals, but the way the light shone through them was the same. He remembered visiting them for the first time with his friends. Remembered carving little sculptures of themselves out of some of the rocks and leaving that behind.

He'd forgotten.

It was a cultural thing for them. Ahkelios's people lived in moving cities—in great monuments built in ancient times, each with dozens or hundreds of mechanical legs that could take them through the hazards of the planet unscathed. Most of their planet was uninhabited and unexplored, and most of their people weren't connected. It was difficult, given the conditions of their planet.

But every so often, their moving cities would encounter an island amid the chaos. A landmark of some kind. Mountains of crystal, valleys of gold, forests that burned and froze in equal measure.

Ahkelios loved the forests most. They were proof that life could survive outside of their monuments and cities; proof that it would always find a way. He'd dreamed of finding a way to give his people whatever traits those plants had so they could live outside of their cities, outside their safe havens...

Point was, they lived in moving cities, and without a way to speak to one another directly?

They resorted to stories.

Tales told through art. Small things left behind at every habitable location. Nothing that would ruin it permanently, but a little piece of them, a little piece of their city. Little pieces of history and art and culture left behind for others to find so their people could still speak to one another, still share with one another.

His home had been named Ar'kur. The Winding Wanderer. Whatever ancient systems controlled their city was a little bit broken, and every so often they'd end up spiraling in circles.

All this Ethan helped him remember just from his exploration, from his open love of the world. In a way, his approach through the loops reminded Ahkelios of that same cultural practice—each loop was an island in time, and Ethan tried always to leave behind something that mattered.

And so when it came down to it—when it came down to the essence of who they were—

Ahkelios remembered to care. Remembered what had mattered the most to his people.

And Zhir didn't.

"It's all set up," Zhir told him. "All up to you and your friend, now."

Ahkelios hesitated. "Are you just going to be... gone?" he asked. He felt oddly guilty about it. Zhir seemed to sense that, and Ahkelios could feel his counterpart rolling his eyes.

"You've adopted too much of that human's sentimentality," Zhir said. "Put it this way. He betrays you? I'll be back. Otherwise... I'll just be part of you."

Ahkelios could live with that. He and Zhir had once been the same, after all.

"Thank you," he said. He meant it.

"Egh," Zhir responded. "Your sentimentality is gross. Go kill the big bug or whatever it is you're going to do."

Ahkelios snorted—

—and then he was himself again. Whole. Different, in many ways—the new body was going to take some getting used to. But more important than that...

He felt the Firmament pouring through him.

His own Firmament. Not Ethan's. The link between them wasn't gone, but he was his own person now; the fog of the Interface no longer had an influence on him. It was like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time.

He couldn't wait to hang out with Ethan. Properly. As equals, as friends.

"Bring it," he said out loud to Phylus.

The Concept-Bound—who was currently tangled in a half-dozen ropes that had emerged from the traps of Novi's household, and fighting to get free—just stared at him. "Are you a different person now?" he asked. He turned to Guard. "Is he a different person now? How many of you are there?"

He-Who-Guards slid his optic over to Ahkelios, and Ahkelios caught a ghost of a smile. "Welcome back, Ahkelios," he said.

"Glad to be back," Ahkelios said. He felt his Firmament surging, felt his own Concept bind to his Firmament.

He might be a full layer behind Ethan, but that didn't mean he didn't have his own tricks up his sleeve. The Sword made every part of him sharp as a blade, and when the Concept-Bound shot a spike at him, it bounced off his arm.

It still cracked his carapace, but he could do this. He could fight.

In no small part thanks to the power Zhir had gained in his time as a Remnant.

"Thanks," he said again, even though he knew Zhir could no longer hear him. "I'll make good use of this."

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