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“Yes, perfectly well,” Augustus replied, almost automatically. He put the article back. “Have you seen Professor Olivia Spiders recently?”

“Spiders?” Fernandez raised a brow. She’d surely practiced how to do so, given how perfect it was. “Not recently, no.”

“That’s odd. They’re doing a paper.”

“Well, I don’t keep an eye on everyone who comes in and out, and I’m not always here,” Fernandez said neutrally, surely putting together the connection between that and the missing books and not wanting to jump to conclusions. 

Augustus nodded absently. “Fair enough. It’s occurred to me I have something I really need to talk to her about, so sorry to show up and to run out again so quickly.”

“I also don’t keep track of the time anyone spends here.”

He laughed at that, soft. “No, you wouldn’t. Have a good rest of your morning, Fernandez.”

“Pennywright,” Fernandez said agreeably.

There was more he could look up here, surely, but he couldn’t think of any of it, and besides, his feet were already walking him out as his mind continued to whirl.

So, Vii—his old lover Vii, forgotten, lost to this world and to the memories of those who were there with him when the incident happened—was named Violin Spiders. All he knew about Vii’s family was that he had some, and that he’d left a letter for them in the event he died in the ritual. And all that he knew about Olivia’s family was that she apparently had a sister who ran a jewelry shop in town.

Did Olivia have a sister who ran a jewelry shop, or had that been a convenient excuse? If there really was a sister, that might also be a source of information, it occurred to him. He fiddled briefly with his wedding band, his pact-mark; it wasn’t the only piece of jewelry he owned, and some of the others, less-magical, had stopped fitting so well over the years. He could take a piece to see if they could expand it and—what? Ask about missing family members while he was there? 

One way or another, what he knew for sure was that Olivia had abruptly become a great deal more suspicious. Someone had been researching into summon something from beyond, and if they thought that their brother (or cousin, or whoever) was out there … well, Augustus had no family any longer, nor had he been attached to the family he’d had, but he could imagine it might drive someone to great lengths.

One way or another, he needed to talk to them. What he was going to say, he didn’t know, but he could decide that when he got there.

Unfortunately, he reached Olivia’s office to find it locked and closed, with no Olivia around after he knocked. A quick use of his magical detection charm dissuaded him from breaking in immediately; she’d apparently taken whatever advice she’d gotten on theft for her own use, not simply her sister’s, and the place was heavily warded against what he was assumed was physical intrusion in additional to magical. He had to believe that anyone stepping in would quickly draw attention, and while he could potentially manage a quiet break of the spell if he had materials and time, it would be better to do that late at night, as it would take a while to set up, and casting while painting the air over the door wouldn’t exactly be subtle.

He could come back later. It wasn’t suspicious that Olivia wasn’t in, he reminded himself. He, for example, was also not in his office right now. Nevertheless, it made him nervous. One more variable out of his control. 

“What are you up to?” Pérez asked, walking down the hall.

This was fine. He pivoted back to his original plan, turning with a smile. “Just seeing if Olivia was in. They told me they’d finished a draft and would talk about it later, so I was curious! No luck, though. Have you heard anything?”

“Why would I talk to Spiders about their writing?” Pérez asked blankly.

Oh, Pérez. “Well, we’re all in this together, aren’t we? What are you doing around here, anyway? You’re not in Conjurations. Not that I ever mind seeing your smiling face.”

“You have better coffee in your lounge,” Pérez said sourly. “Must be all the deals your sort makes with creatures of luxury.”

“I could use some myself. I’ll walk you there,” Augustus said, starting that way. Maybe Olivia would be there. “Do you have class later?”

“Yes, we’re clearing the room and setting things up for a major practical test. Summoning a ‘harmless’ sylph, but—” 

“What! Conjuring in your class?” 

“Only to show them what not to do,” Pérez said firmly. “We don’t shamelessly court danger, unlike your sort.”

They’d walked together into the lounge as Pérez said that; Olivia wasn’t there, but plenty of other professors were, eavesdropping shamelessly on Pérez’s insults. “Oh well, speaking of that, I’ve got a big class planned later today,” Augustus said cheerfully, at normal speaking volume. “For my two o’clock class.”

“Oh no,” Pérez said.

“You’d love it, I think. It’s an introduction to Planar Studies course, so … well, I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but let’s just say it’ll be an exciting day for the students!”

Pérez was shaking his head. “You shouldn’t. What if something gets out?”

“Don’t even worry about it! I’ll be there to watch over everything. I may not have your skill level, but I know how to deal with everything I teach,” Augustus said. “Even if we decide to go big.” Yes, everyone had definitely heard that. There’d be gossip about it, for sure, because professors loved to talk; he was sure that people would be saying to watch out for escaped elementals and demons. Everyone would know by noon. 

So his trap was laid; people would know that he was definitely at class, and thus if he skipped and stayed in his office, he might see who showed up.

He poured himself coffee and toasted Pérez. “Well, good luck to you with your class, and good luck to me with mine,” he said, heading out and immediately beelining for Fitzfleming’s office. 

She was out—she had class this morning, he knew—or at least, her room was dark, so unless he were falling into the same trap as he was about to set, he was good to go. A final burning of his mage eye charm—one that he’d have to restore before he could use it again—indicated only the standard spells against magical intrusion, so he quickly got to work with his tools.

Augustus was in quickly, shutting the door behind him and making sure the curtains were shut before he summoned a small light. She was actually out, and as long as she had no cause to leave class early, he should be able to toss her room fairly thoroughly. Classes were three hours long, after all.

Yet he took a fair amount of that time searching, because he wasn’t finding what he wanted, and kept trying to go deeper. None of the books seemed to be here. Her shelves were messy, and he spent far too long pulling books off and trying to return them to their exact place, but he was sure by the end that she didn’t have any of his missing materials. 

This despite the implications she’d been the one stealing them.

His time was running quite short by the time he found the evidence that might explain their absence: a note, carefully placed at the very bottom of a stack of papers that had clearly been early drafts of her recent paper on Eidolic idolatry. He almost missed it, but it was a slightly different color than the rest of them, and had a torn edge.

It read: I have information you don’t want getting out. You’re going to help me, or everyone will know. Come to the woods behind the school this Choresday morning to learn what I need. It was undated and unsigned.

The note could, theoretically, be an unsent message from Fitzfleming herself, but Augustus doubted it. It looked like the sort of thing that someone had received and had simultaneously wanted to hide but keep close to hand. And while the mysterious author hadn’t said what they needed help with, he had most likely been robbed late on Choresday, from what Yujin had said.

Augustus carefully slipped the note back, and, after looking around to confirm that he’d put things back as similarly to how Fitzfleming had kept them, slipped out of her office with equal care, immediately beginning to move again once he’d got the door closed, using the inside lock again to lock it easily behind himself.

He barely had time to buy himself a sandwich before he needed to get back to his office, and he spent most of that time thinking as he walked. So. Someone was blackmailing Fitzfleming (or again, she was planning to blackmail someone else this week; unlikely but not impossible). But why would someone want to use her to steal his books instead of doing it themselves? Simply for the plausible deniability that they were not involved?

Augustus finished his sandwich in his office with the door locked and closed, blinds drawn, eating in the dark and hoping no mustard would drip out; he’d hate to confront a potential intruder with mustard on his shirt. 

He’d only just finished it when he heard the sound of a key in the lock. He sat up straighter, staring at the door. He was a Conjurer, but he still had a trick or two, and he readied a small paralysis spell from another of his charms, aiming it for the bust next to the door so that a potential reflection ward wouldn’t send the spell right back to him. He held the spell; it’d be good if he didn’t need to use it.

Yujin stepped in, shutting the door behind themself and locking it, and then going for the lights. 

“No, leave those off,” Augustus said, watching Yujin visibly startle. Disappointment flooded him. Even though he’d seen the stolen book in their office, he’d only seen the one. He’d hoped it hadn’t been Yujin, especially with all this other information. Hoped it had been a misunderstanding. He contemplated launching the paralysis spell. It’d be easy enough to get Yujin tied up after that and then force information from them …

“Sir?!” Yujin said, startled. There was something wrong with them; their hair was floating around them strangely, drifting up as if gravity had suddenly become a suggestion. Their necktie followed suit, as if in some invisible breeze. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”

“Waiting for you, I suppose,” Augustus said. He put as much avuncular disappointment as he could into the words, preparing to launch his spell the moment Yujin moved.

“Never mind. Thank goodness you’re here,” Yujin said. “I need your help. Someone wants to hurt you—I can’t let it happen!”

It could be a trap, luring him to let down his guard. Yet he hesitated.

[What should Augustus do?
Comment with details.]

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I got a tattoo today and it’s awesome but my brain is gone! Break day today, so you’ve got another day to think about next steps with this new information — please turn your comments in on Day 22 by October 24, 4:00 pm PST!

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“First of all,” Augustus said, and was pleased when his voice didn’t shake too much, “I would have you make me a cup of tea. Herbal. I need to calm my nerves and get my thoughts in order.”

Enmity’s eyebrows lifted—for all of what Augustus liked to think of as their domestic bliss, Enmity wasn’t much in the habit of being ordered around for trivialities. But again, he decided not to say anything about it this time, slowly releasing Augustus and sliding his legs off the workshop bed, then heading for the stairs.

Augustus imagined his demon lord husband tinkering around naked in the kitchen and swallowed a laugh that threatened to be more of a hysterical giggle than anything else. He sat up and crossed his legs, clenching cold fingers into the fine material of his trousers and forcing himself to breathe.

When Enmity returned—still naked, of course, carrying a teacup with a strainer in it, and a separate bowl to remove the leaves to when the tea was appropriately steeped—Augustus was feeling, if not better, as if he had at least roughly managed to line his thoughts up.

“I’ll start from the moment it shifted to the cave,” he said, since that was when Enmity had stopped talking originally in the memory-divination, and did so, describing the icy cold waters, the warm current beneath him, his sudden decision to get back out of the water and head into the caves to follow the voice. It was hard to describe what he’d seen when he emerged out into that central cave opening that the ritual had clearly occurred in, but he did his best. “So, as you can see, something went very wrong,” he concluded. He knew he was talking stiffly, but couldn’t not. It felt like trying to forcibly recall a nightmare. “I don’t know if it was accidental or sabotage. The things Soren was yelling could have been aimed at either Vii or myself. Or it could have simply been an inaccurate stream of consciousness, given his lack of mental stability at the time. Considering that we were playing with forces beyond our control, it could have been accidental and he was simply blaming himself. But I do wonder if there was foul play involved. And by whom, if so.” 

Because that was the rub, wasn’t it? Emotions were high. Vii and Soren had issues with each other, but were also drawn to each other, and Augustus knew himself well enough to suspect he might have been playing them off each other for the thrill of being so desired. He didn’t want to think he would have actively sabotaged either of them, but he didn’t have enough memory to confirm.

“You weren’t there at the start of the memory,” Enmity pointed out, interrupting Augustus’s spiraling thoughts. “You were somehow in a pool of water, deeper in the cave system from what was happening. Do you think you might have been the one who ‘abandoned’ them, since you weren’t there at the time?” He made scare quotes with his talons around abandoned.

It was strange; he wasn’t used to emotional pain. He sat with that feeling for a moment, an accusation of abandoning people who were still, to his current self, near strangers. “Perhaps,” he said. “Entirely possible. Say that when the ritual started, I got afraid. Or when it started to come through—I could have become insensate and fled. If I fell into a pool of ice-cold water, it might have shocked me back into my senses and allowed me to go back to try to help after all. Or perhaps I was coming to the ritual through the caves and was late, and they got started without me. One way or another, whether I was there and ran away, or if I hadn’t been there at all, I was clearly too late to help.”

“Dost thou ache, worm?” Enmity asked, tucking fingers under Augustus’s chin, curling claws against the soft flesh there.

It made him smile, at least. “I don’t know. It’s a bit intriguing, I’ll admit. Well. Whatever the cause, and whether or not it was intentional, it looks as if Vii was consumed in some way by the Beast Beyond. Clearly not the intended outcome, given how we’d been talking. And then I lost my memory, and Soren lost more than that … I don’t think the ritual itself wiped my memory, but … perhaps that scream at the end. It felt like it cut right through my mind and seared parts of me away. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that it did damage to me.”

“While I couldn’t exactly take a look around your ritual area, obviously, I don’t think you had any kind of useful warding up,” Enmity said. “How could you? It was something you’d never encountered before. It’s just lucky that rift slurped it back in, or who knows what other damage it might have done to the world?”

As if Enmity could talk. Augustus gave him a fond look, and earned a coyly innocent expression back. “Well, that’s what planar definitions are supposed to do. Be a failsafe against things going where they don’t belong for too long.”

“And here you are trying to change them.”

“Of course I am, darling. If my world is your world, then it couldn’t possibly deny you. Who could?” Augustus leaned up and kissed Enmity’s nose. And then, sitting back suddenly, “And given my stolen research, I might not be the only one trying to change the definitions. Especially given that you told me that you felt someone try to reach for something beyond the planes recently already. If someone who knew about the Beast had an idea of how to define to allow its entry, they might be able to cause some major havoc.”

Enmity sighed. “I’m not getting laid tonight.”

“You’re not, sorry. I need to plan, and then I need to rest without nightmares, if you can do that for me.”

“I can do that for you.”

Augustus nodded. “Well. Tomorrow, I don’t have plans until the afternoon. So first thing in the morning, I can go to the library, see if there’s any news about Vii. Things are only shared through magical interlibrary loan if they’re of interest, so it’s unlikely but not impossible there will be student records. But given that suddenly Soren became unwell and Vii disappeared without a trace, there might be a news report. That’d be shared.”

Enmity hmmed absently, tracing shapes over Augustus’s forehead with a talon. 

He could feel the sleepiness start to sink in. “Depending how long that takes, perhaps I can then break into Fitzfleming’s office. See if I can find the proof that she’s the one doing it. And if not … well, maybe I can lay a trap. Tell folks that I’ve got an exciting class planned. If I get all the evidence I need before that, sure, I can run a class. Otherwise, I can make everyone think I’m going to and then skip. See if someone tries to get into my office while they believe I’m busy.”

“Lie down, maggot,” Enmity said, pressing him back and sitting on him, tracing more patterns down his throat and chest. “I need to finish this before the spell ends, if you want a good sleep.”

“Mm, yeah, exactly. Then I’ll go home. Bring you home to me physically. Voidspace takes so long to set up compared to a physical summoning. And you can’t stay long when it’s like this. Physically, we can only trick the planes for a day or two before it’ll kick you out. But I want you there when Soren comes over, and if things are going to kick off soon … I need you. I need you.”

“Sleep,” Enmity said, and Augustus fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

When Augustus woke, he was, as expected, alone. But that was fine. He was calmer now, prepared.

He got up and ate his leftovers from dinner rather than taking time to prepare any breakfast, dressed quickly in a fairly simple charcoal suit with opal-swirl lining, and strode off to the university library. He nodded to Fernandez as he passed, heading right for the section relevant to arcane universities.

As he’d expected, Pwent’s enrollment history didn’t make it over here—he could request an interlibrary loan if it was incidentally both approved to get scanned in (which it might not be, if any politician’s children had been in the classes) and then someone had the time to magically scan it. But he did find news from the same year, pulling things out and making his hands stay steady. 

Incident at Pwent, One Student Injured, Another Missing.

That was certainly it. He began to pull it out and froze when Fernandez came over.

“Pennywright.”

“Fernandez,” he agreed. “Can I help you?”

“The other way around, I think. I told you I’d do inventory. You were correct; some titles that seem relevant have been late in being returned. You may want to talk to Professor Fitzfleming if you want them back.”

Disappointing, but not unexpected. “I see. Thank you,” he said, and turned his attention back to the article, skimming it for names. He searched for his own—didn’t find it—and skimmed again for the others.

Yes, there was Soren Kincaird, poor thing, ankle broken, described as incapable of explaining what had happened.

And then he saw Vii’s full name: Violin Spiders. 

It could be a coincidence, of course. The Spiderses were a large, multi-branched family. 

It didn’t feel like a coincidence.

“Pennywright?” Ferdanez asked. “Are you well?”

[What should Augustus do?
Stick to the plan? Change it up?
Comment with details.]

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No, Augustus decided, he shouldn’t go toward the warmth. He didn’t know where it led, or, in fact, what was causing the warmth. And if it was a way out—if the warmth came from areas nicer than this horrid, dark cave, should he really do it alone?

That thought jarred him and for a moment he almost failed to keep treading water. He couldn’t think of it like that, he reminded himself, not and risk losing the ability to observe the divination. If he began to conflate the past with the present, the divination could take him all manner of places. He wasn’t his past self. He was simply observing it. No matter what he did here, the past wouldn’t change.

He moved his numb arms, swimming to the edge of the pool and slowly pulling himself out of it, shivering as a howling wind through the caves stole any warmth he might have from his soaked, icy clothes. Carefully, he touched the dragonfly on his chest, which shifted around a little and dripped warm blood over his heart, though Enmity didn’t speak. Perhaps he was too busy observing. 

Or perhaps it was becoming difficult for him to simultaneously maintain the divination spell and his intrusion into the voidspace that Augustus had temporarily created to summon him into.

Like Enmity had said, it would be better to not waste time. Augustus had to make his decisions and stick to them. Screwing up his courage, he felt along the walls until he found a tunnel entrance, and ran into it.

He did is best to angle toward the screaming voice, even if he couldn’t tell for sure if it were friend or foe. The tone was urgent and incoherent, terrified and furious and in pain, and it was as liable to be hunting him as it was to be begging for his help, but it might be Vii. And even if it wasn’t, it had to have information about what went wrong. The last memory he had explored had been right before the ritual. Was this one still before? Was it during or even after?

He slammed into a wall in the darkness, sucked a pained breath, and felt along until he located the bend. Keeping one hand on the wall, and the other out in front of him to help prevent other accidents, he ran. The icy, wet stone scraped against his hand, and he couldn’t hear himself running, couldn’t hear himself thinking, not for the echoing screams and shouts and babbled, impossible words. If only he could see where he was going, it might be easier to angle himself toward it, but all he could do was keep turning to wherever it seemed louder, and louder, and louder. He went down twice, three times, four, he ran into another wall or two despite his best efforts. Everything felt scraped raw: his skin, his throat, his nerves.

But: eventually, as the sound became louder and louder, as the incoherent wailing almost began to form comprehensible words, as he began to pick up another strange sound under it, crackling and singing and glittering, he realized he could see the outlines of the tunnels, the shapes of the walls. There was light up ahead somewhere, filtering down, and with the advantage of vision, he put on a burst of speed.

Gasping and wheezing, he stumbled to his knees as he came out into a large, central cavern. It was lit with a fire, with candles, and opened to the outdoors; a cold wind ran through it, and moonlight filtered through. Here was where the ritual was done, he thought, and the proof of it was the

the thing

the thing that was pulling itself through

no it wasn’t pulling itself through it was

it was halfway out of a

tear?

a rent?

a gash bleeding unreality into the cave, it was a thing which

it was almost deer-like

it was a little snake-like as well

serpentine, too long, malformed

there were too many legs for the body and they bent the wrong way but they were

almost

deer legs? something like deer legs

because the thing was deer-like, and its neck was too long the same way that its

body? was too long

its antlers split fractal like a lightning figure and they made the world bleed

bleed wherever they were touching and it was familiar he remembered

seeing? this? had he seen it?

the legs ended in human hands instead of hooves, and they were grabbing onto the cave floor, trying to pull itself forward 

or, actually, to keep

to keep itself from being pulled back

the rent between planar space and non-planar space was trying to pull it back in, Augustus thought

and then thought vanished again because he realized that one of the beast’s hands was wound around Soren’s ankles. it did not bend like a hand should, and Soren’s ankle was no longer bending the way an ankle should.

it was pulling Soren into the rift or, rather, it was failing to keep from being sucked back into it itself, its fingers losing its grip off the rough floor, and it was simply dragging

dragging Soren with it as it scrabbled and tried to pull itself free. he was screaming. Soren was the one who was screaming. He was begging. Incoherent.

Focus.

Augustus made himself not look at the beast and instead ran for Soren, trying to listen to his words. They weren’t formed very well, but given what was happening here, Augustus could hardly blame him. “Why did you come back? You abandoned me! You abandoned him! You abandoned you! Didn’t you free yourself! Why did you come back! Don’t I deserve to die to this! Don’t I deserve to live like this! Didn’t you abandon me! You never loved me! So why would you come back! Augustus! Violin! Augustus! Violin! Abandon me! Claim me! Take me! Leave me! Don’t I deserve it?”

(Violin? Augustus thought? Was that Vii’s given name? Terrible. Dreadful. It felt right, for all that it was a horrid name for someone to give their son. Soren yelled it like vee-oh-lihn, not Vie-oh-lin, but still—) He almost laughed and knew he was crying, feeling heat pouring down his cheeks. 

But he didn’t have to control his body, at least, because his past self was doing it for him again. He felt himself grab onto Soren, trying to pull him away from the creature, and then when that was unsuccessful, he grabbed the hand that was on Soren’s ankle, the hand that was attached to the end of that broken, spider-like deer leg, and as he touched it, he felt it freeze.

The movement was so still after all that scrabbling that he turned to look up at the head at the end of that giraffe-snake-deer neck, and that head had a human face, and that face was Vii’s.

Augustus shoved away from it, pulling Soren back in a horrified recoil, and between that and its sudden stillness, it lost its grip altogether. The rift in space sucked it back in, and Vii’s mouth opened and it let out a scream that was both human and not, a sobbing, shattering sound that felt like drinking broken glass.

His mind lacerated.

All went blank.

And he lunged upward, sucking a deep, horrified breath, sobbing. For a second, he thought he was back there and the creature had him, had wrapped its limbs around him, but instead it was Enmity, holding him hard. He was awake, he was alive. The last couple of decades returned to him in a rush and gave him some distance from the dream, or memory, or whatever it was.

“Sorry,” he heard himself say. “Just a moment. I need to calm down.”

“Yeah,” Enmity said, for once not adding any additional commentary.

Calmness returned remarkably fast. He wasn’t sure if Enmity was doing something to hurry it along, or if his own mind was just wrapping the memory back up to protect him, muffling it, or what. But his crying stopped, though his shaking didn’t quite. “Okay,” he managed to say, after however long that took. “Did you see that?”

“I saw the most of it,” Enmity said. “But thine mind wast not understanding the last part, so all I saw was fragments. I could but see the parts thou couldst share with me.” He seemed … worried. It was a little touching, given who and what he was. 

“That might have been for the best,” Augustus murmured, low.

“What dost thou think happened?” Enmity asked. “And babe, what the hell should you—and I!—do about it?”

That was a good question. He still hadn’t seen the actual ritual—might need Soren himself for that, he understood. But what could he piece together, nevertheless? And then … what should his next steps be? Tomorrow was Thirdsday, he reminded himself, feeling infinitely far from concepts like a workweek existing. He needed rest, but at least he had the rest of the night, and then tomorrow morning free. Then, a three-hour class to teach in the afternoon. An evening when he’d invited Soren over. 

Previously, Augustus had suggested that he perform the ritual that would let Enmity temporarily manifest in physical, human-guise flesh—which could last a day or two, but then it would be be hard to bring him back for a while again after, as the planes’ borders would identify him after a time and try to shut him back out. So even if he did do that, should he do it now, or later?

It was so hard to try to plan for tomorrow with his mind still aching like this.

[What does Augustus think happened?
What should Augustus plan to do tomorrow?
Comment with details.]

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Augustus turned slowly, taking a moment to get his bearings and to try to see a clearer image of what was around him. He felt odd, off balance, in a body that was nostalgic and yet lost to him, no longer his own, young and angular, shaped differently than he was now. The corridors looked like school hallways, he realized, pictures of old faculty on the walls, though each vanished into mists. 

The room behind him was more familiar: it was a bedroom, his own from back at Twent. He knew it likely only because he’d had it both before and after the blank period, and it wasn’t likely tied to any of the things that had caused the memory loss. It was, at a glance, as he remembered it: his bed, personal belongings, wardrobe. Likely, there were secrets hidden in it, of course.

There was one more thing to do before he made his decision. Enmity? He called in his mind. Are you there?

Space warped in front of him briefly, and then a strange dragonfly appeared on his sleeve—not the outfit he was last wearing, he noticed, but a pale, tan suit more suited to a younger man. The dragonfly had too many wings lining the whole length of its body, and its legs were hooks. It bled red blood, human blood, as it crawled its way up Augustus’s sleeve to his front, leaving a long smear to mark its trail. There it perched like a brooch over his heart, wings fluttering and spraying fine droplets. “That’s cute,” the dragonfly said, a tiny whisper of Enmity’s voice. “That’s disgusting. You’re taking the time to think about me instead of exploring.”

“That’s—”

“Don’t worry, thou lovesick mite. I’m watching. But you can’t waste time, got it, babe? With only two focus items we have some pretty damn limited space to explore.”

Augustus had relaxed a little at that familiar whiplash between high and low diction. He didn’t respond, knowing he’d get chided again if he did, but just made a decision: the thing that had to be the most important here was the person Augustus could not remember, the young man from the ambrotype. His bedroom was likely tied directly to himself and thus possibly easiest to return to if divining again; the paths into the mists was the most undefined; he already knew a little about Soren.

He turned to the left and broke into a jog to meet the young man.

The youth’s features became clearer as he approached: he was gangly and short, with long brown hair loosely tied back in a braid like he were a civil servant, and he had freckles scattered across his face. He was dressed finely but inappropriately in shirtsleeves and brocaded vest with no coat. His eyes were bright green and merry; he laughed as Augustus approached, reaching out to snag Augustus’s hand and suddenly Augustus found himself being pulled along.

It felt familiar, and he couldn’t help his heart lifting as the two of them ran together through the hallways, heedless of the noise of their shoes and laughter, to tumble into another room together. It too was a bedroom, and laid out similarly—all the dorms must have been—though Augustus didn’t remember it.

The young man threw his arms around Augustus and kissed him, laughter bubbling up against his mouth, pressing Augustus against the wall, a leg pressing between Augustus’s thighs carefully. He found himself gasping, kissing back fervently, and then his hands came up involuntarily, pushing the familiar stranger away, though only a little. “We shouldn’t,” Augustus murmured. “We don’t want to spend too much of ourselves before the ritual. We need as much energy as we have, since we don’t know what’ll happen.”

“Soren told you that.”

“I mean, he didn’t say it about fucking.”

“I bet he was thinking it,” the young man said. “I think he wants to find any excuse to keep us from fucking again.”

Augustus found himself huffing out a fond, frustrated breath. “I know you think he doesn’t like you, Vii.” Vii? Was that this youth’s name? Or simply a nickname?

“I don’t think he doesn’t like me,” Vii murmured, thumbing Augustus’s lower lip and forcing his mouth a little open. “I think he’s fascinated by me, and who can fucking blame him? I’m powerful and awesome and gorgeous and I have you. And I know for a fact he wants you, but you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Ihh hhyhh,” Augustus said. He wished he had more insight into his past self’s thoughts, not just the whirlwind of sensations, to know how he’d intended to answer.

“Wow,” the eldritch dragonfly clinging to his chest whispered to Augustus alone. “You got a type, huh, babe?”

He must, at that. He could feel the love pounding in his chest, and knew that his younger self had been completely besotted with this person he now couldn’t remember. 

“Probably we could get all over it if we just gave up on being coy about it and had a threesome,” Vii was saying thoughtfully, his thumb hooked into Augustus’s mouth, which was incredibly distracting. “But I’m really enjoying monopolizing you here. Is that fair of me? I don’t know, Auggie, you tell me.”

Augustus managed to lift a hand to gently remove Vii from his mouth. “We’ll see if it matters one way or another soon anyway,” Augustus said. “The thing we’re going to do will either fail or it’ll work, and either way, we’re all soon going to be sharing an experience that goes far beyond anything we’ve experienced before. Or we’ll die.”

“Or we’ll die,” Vii said, more somber now, resting his forehead against Augustus’s shoulder. The dragonfly should be crushed between them, but then, it wasn’t real to his past self, only to the current Augustus. “Have you made any preparations for that possibility?”

Augustus snorted. He felt scorn, and could recognize the reasons for it even before his younger self spoke. “What preparations could I make? I don’t have any family. What about you?”

“I left a message,” Vii said. “Nobody will find it unless they’re dealing with my personal belongings after I’m gone, so hopefully I can just burn it unopened later.”

Augustus shook his head, a fierce denial. “I wish you didn’t feel like you had to. I don’t think we’ll die. I won’t let you die.”

Vii pressed a hand to Augustus’s cheek and leaned up. “Oh, if only I believed I could have such a fierce defender,” he said, and kissed Augustus again. This time, Augustus didn’t resist as Vii pulled him back toward the bed. They hit the mattress and—

—Suddenly, everything was icily cold. His mouth was full, the heat of Vii’s tongue turned to ice, and he thrashed upward, gasping for air as he surfaced, finding himself in a pool of frigid water. It was dreadfully dark. The air tasted like minerals, and he could hear a slow, echoing drip.

And something else, in the distance. Someone was screaming, words he couldn’t make out due to the overlapping and distant echoes. He thought it was for him, and fear stirred inside him. He couldn’t tell whether he was afraid of the person or for them, not with the distance of his current self versus the emotions of his past self.

What were his options? He couldn’t keep treading water in this pool forever. He could, he decided, try to avoid the person, or he could try to find them. He was pretty sure he was in a cave, but he wasn’t sure how many tunnels there might be; still, the sound would be some guidance.

There might be a third option as well, he realized abruptly. A warm current had brushed his ankle; there might be an underground stream here, a below-water cave that he could try to dive down and into to see where it led.

Surely, he reminded himself, cave diving was safer when he was lost in magically-divined memories than it would be in real life.

[What should Augustus do? Comment with details.
Whichever gets the most votes will take it.
If it is split, I will pick randomly between the split votes.]

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