Glass or Diamond: Fairy's Wish

Fairies; beings of small stature granted one of the most potent and mystical gifts the world has ever known, are also burdened by that very gift in many ways. The singular wish they are each born with is a priceless treasure to everyone a fairy might encounter, save themselves. A fairy cannot grant their own wish, and granting a wish for others takes away treasures that the fairy can grant themselves of their own will.

As birds chirp and insects buzz and hum all around, Lykha ponders the recent events where she offered -begged- to use her wish to save her first non-fairy friend, Murtoa of Lakia. Such an act, especially unprovoked, is not only frowned upon, but forbidden by fairy elders, as fairies are highly emotional and prone to making rash decisions. And, nothing is more irresponsible than making a rash decision with the most powerful gift in the world.

She feels a little guilty having been so reckless. If Mury survived, she would have traded her own future for a human warrior who is regularly rather reckless with his own life. She would no longer be able to perform magic -which is the only thing that makes her useful to her friends-, and she would no longer be able to have children, which makes her useful to fairies as a whole. And, she dreams of someday having a family with several children, whom she can tell stories to and teach values she’s learned not only from her fairy elders, but from her new friends in the world at large.

Grandmother Galla always preaches that a wish is not worth a single fairy life, let alone a non-fairy. For, a wish’s cost exceeds potentially several, if not many, fairy lives that could have been. The penalty for using one's wish is steep; the fairy who does so is excommunicated from the fairy villages and abandoned to the world beyond the safety of the village.

But then,... If she COULD save Mury’s life… What is his life worth to her? What he’s done for her doesn’t compare in the same way, because the only thing he gambles is his physical life, which he does anyways.

And yet…

Lykha groans as she sits in midair next to the strange fairy elder named Yanari, who hasn’t said a word since Lykha joined her.

“Come closer, child,” states the elder fairy without looking. Surprised, Lykha asks, “Me?”

She looks over her shoulder, finding no one else there. The sage says nothing, and Lykha sighs. “I know you’re just doing that now because you told me you do that.”

“Am I?” asks the elder fairy with an enigmatic smirk.

Lykha glares at her elder, asking sharply, “I’m sure there’s some greater lesson you want to teach me, but are you even going to talk?”

Yanari, who is reaching the eldest years a fairy can reach, by her appearance, still possesses her wish, in spite of residing in the world of non-fairies. She seems almost ethereal and mystical as stones, leaves, and even her hair float weightlessly around her being, touched by the vast magical power radiating from her.

“In due time, child.” The fairy continues to meditate.

Lykha clenches her fists. “I can’t stand this silence! Mury doesn’t have forever! And, you don’t know him. He’s too pragmatic for his own good! If I don’t hurry back… I don’t want to think of what foolish way he’ll try to unburden us, okay!?”

The fairy sage opens one eye to look at Lykha, and then closes it again. “Very well, then. Do you know what the difference between humans, drakyks, ‘demons’, and the other races of the world is?”

Caught off-guard, Lykha snaps a little more sharply than she means to, “What does that have to do with anything!?” She instantly regrets her wording, if nothing else.

“Well, lots of things, actually. Humans, drakyks, demons,...”

“I got it! I got it… I meant… I just want to know about the plague and how to cure it. If you don’t know, just tell me.”

The sage is silent, sitting peacefully undisturbed in her meditation.

Lykha groans in frustration, replying quickly, “I don’t know! Lots of things! Nothing! The only real differences seem to be superficial, mostly. Physical, too, I guess. True southerners have horns, drakyks are strong, humans are surprisingly tough, and the other southerners, I haven’t really met. But, they all are just people.”

“Mmm…” replies the sage with a cryptic smile.

Lykha sighs, “What ‘mmm’? Was that a good ‘mmm’ or a bad ‘mmm’?”

“Why can’t it just be a ‘mmm’, I wonder? Is it because you’re in a hurry?”

Lykha grits her teeth, but forces herself to relax. “Yes. Mury would be halfway across the forest finding an answer by now.”

“Interesting… Why aren’t you, then?”

“Wha-... B-Because I’m naive. Okay!? I’m naive and dumb and inexperienced with the world. What little experience I have now, I’ve always had reliable people helping me. And, some of them are helping, but… I hoped… Mury saved me once by talking to a sage who was able to break a curse I had always known to be unbreakable. I just… I wanted…” Lykha looks down. I wanted to use something he taught me for once…

“Did you think I was this sage?”

Lykha sighs, “I hoped… if you weren’t, maybe… Maybe you’d know someone.”

The woman hums with a satisfied smirk. She then says, “I’ll tell you then. The true difference is culture.”

Lykha’s jaw drops. That settles it. Everyone here is crazy.

However, the sage continues, “Humans and drakyks get along quite well, because both favor strong hierarchies. Everyone has a place; everyone has a purpose. And, they accomplish a lot doing so. Demons -’true’ southerners, I suppose- are more free-spirited by nature. They tend to be solitary, welcoming companionship, but seeking to solve their own problems their own way -usually through power-. The… we’ll just call them the ‘other southerners’ for now; they tend to be strongly social, similar to humans and fairies, but without the spiritual restrictions we place on our citizens. They come together for the whole, but don’t tend to celebrate individuality in any capacity, and certainly not in any form of leadership.”

Lykha scoffs. Sounds kinda nice, actually. Not too unlike our party, come to think of it.

Yanari warns, however, “Do not be fooled. There is always a hierarchy. Someone is always powerful, and the rest are always weak. To deny this is to invite ruin.”

“I get it. Mury’s our leader, and the rest of us have a hierarchy as well, and that keeps us alive. I want to save my leader. Is that what you want?”

The old fairy chuckles, closing her eyes again as she resumes her meditating posture. “Not at all, child.”

“Then why the cultural lesson!?”

“You wanted me to talk, so I’m talking.”

Lykha growls as she whirls to a ‘standing’ position in air, hovering in a short circle as she vents briefly. She halts herself, though, managing to regain her composure. She says gently, “Please, Wise Yanari. If it is a matter of payment, please tell me. If I can pay, I will.”

The fairy elder chuckles, but doesn’t say anything.

Again, Lykha clenches her fists, resisting her anger with everything she can.

Yanari suddenly says, “I accept your apology.”

“Wh-... What apology?” asks Lykha, confused.

“The apology you’re about to make, child. I accept.”

The young fairy scoffs as she recoils in disgusted surprise. WHAT DO I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE FOR!?

She flinches, suddenly realizing. She takes a deep breath and says softly, “I’m sorry, Yanari, for trying to use my wish. I should have considered my options and sought less costly means to help my friend.”

Yanari chuckles again, musing, “Ahhh… To be young and in love… Why would you apologize for that?”

“Wha-!? Isn’t that… WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO APOLOGIZE FOR!?”

“Well pardon me, child, for attempting to help you help your friend.”

“YOU HAVEN’T HELPED AT ALL!”

“And, neither have you. For starters, what is your plan for helping him, hmm? Yell at an old woman all day?”

“I’M LEAVING! YOU USELESS OLD WOMAN!” Lykha whirls and starts to fly away. She slows to a stop, feeling awful just as suddenly. However, the fairy sage doesn’t seem the least bit bothered.

Lykha hovers softly, “I’m sorry… I’m terrified that we’ll run out of time… Please… I don’t know what I’ll do…”

“I see.”

Lykha hovers closer again, saying softly, “I struggle with that all the time…”

“I suspect so. Lighting fuses and healing scratches, yes?”

Lykha hugs her sides, choking out, “Yes… B-But… I’ve learned… I…”

Yanari says plainly as she waves her hand, and one of the stones floats outwards in a new orbit manipulated by the fairy. “I cannot make you see. I cannot make you feel. I cannot impart experience by merely words. You’ve asked for my help, and I am giving it, whether you see it or not.”

Lykha looks around, thinking. She takes a seat next to Yanari again, saying softly, “I am desperate to learn. Please teach me.”

“Please learn,” replies the sage gently.

Lykha nods, adding, “And, I’m sorry… for being impatient.”

Yanari smiles warmly at Lykha. “I already told you, I accept.”

Lykha smiles and takes a breath, looking out over the vast forest ahead of them. The ground is far below, and the next colossal tree is some distance away, but the forest often feels crowded. From here, though, she can see the ground, in spite of the height, and the unique pattern of colors native to the area. She can see the greens of heavy shrub patches, light colored clearings of sand and mud, the river winding in the distance, and an ashen patch of the forest surrounding a small green oasis.

Lykha studies the leaves of the limbs of other colossal trees, wondering how the non-fairies don’t expand out into the trees, if the trees provide safety.

She halts.

She lowers her gaze back to the forest floor, studying the ashen patch more closely. Unlike the leaf and bark-covered sand and mud patches, this area is almost pure white and devoid of shrubs, weeds, and other plants defining the forest. Only the oasis of small trees and brush possesses any signs of life.

The plague! Is that it? Why is there an oasis? Could it be something that keeps the plague at bay?

The young fairy looks at her elder excitedly, and a smile forms on the sage’s face. Lykha asks nervously, “Th-That’s the plague, isn’t it?”

The elder nods, and Lykha asks, “A-And… that oasis… Something must be protecting it, right?”

“It would appear so.”

Lykha hovers over the vast drop -which isn’t a threat to her-, staring intently at the oasis. She hesitates, though. “Wh-... What if it’s not the cure?”

“You would be wasting time.”

Lykha whimpers. Just to reach the oasis, they’d have to cross a large swath of infected area, which would likely be dangerous to all of them if they come in contact with whatever the infectious part of the plague is. A mere scratch seemed to be enough to infect Mury, while the villagers were concerned with bodily fluids from Mury being dangerous to all of them.

“M-Maybe I should…” She looks at Yanari, who is watching her with a cryptic expression. Lykha is being tested. She fidgets with her hands.

Why can’t she just tell me!? Calm down, Lykha… Think. We didn’t know Maerin would be able to help against the Solaghoul, right? And, Mury… She scoffs thinking about the unorthodox knight. ‘And failing that, I’d find some other way to navigate…’

Lykha smiles. Every day of his life, ESPECIALLY on his self-assumed job, Murtoa of Lakia takes immense risks with a high chance of failure. He’s only alive because he plans as far as he can, and he adapts when he can, but ultimately, luck is never far away from him.

Lykha says more confidently, “It’s the best lead I’ve got, so the faster we find out why there’s an oasis, the faster I can search for an alternative if not. R-Right?”

Yanari smiles, “Sounds like something your friend would do.”

Lykha blushes. And, without prompting, Yanari adds, “It’s difficult when you’re given gifts that others treasure. We are born with immense inherent value, and it’s easy to forget to build our skills and talents, because we don’t need them for the beginning of our lives. But, if you continue to hide behind inexperience, your friend will die anyway.”

Lykha nods, “I… I just… I don’t want to screw up, though…”

“Your village is that way, then. Return and give the world no further thought.” Yanari points slightly upwards and about the five o’clock direction away from the oasis. Lykha’s heart jumps, realizing how close she’s getting to going home.

But, it doesn’t matter.

“Mury needs me for once. I’m not leaving until he’s safe.”

“Inaction is easy to commit to. Action is not.”

The young fairy fidgets with her hands. She understands the statement. ‘Not leaving’ is inaction, and on some low level…

No. I will do everything I can to save him. I’m not avoiding guilt. I won’t be able to live if he doesn’t make it. I have to do this.

She looks at the ashen portion of the forest again, saying confidently. “Okay. Something is there. That much is clear.” She faces the fairy sage, “Thank you, Yanari.”

“Prove you learned something, child. And, good luck.” Yanari smiles, and Lykha bows respectfully, darting through the air and over the village to return to the trunk winder.

***

“‘Bando? A-... Are you still alive?” Coco inspects the cracked lens of Mury’s helmet, and his head shifts lightly. He manages to nod, and she smiles with a relieved sigh. “Good.” She retrieves water for him while Gyrryth and Maerin are setting up Maerin’s experiment station nearby. The teen says softly, “Sorry we all left you here…”

Murtoa of Lakia reuses one of his favorite lines, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m grateful.” He coughs hoarsely, and Coco backs away slightly. He takes a drink with her help, nodding when he has enough. She asks, “Can… I do anything more for you, Lo-... Mury?”

He scoffs this time, whispering, “If you can… cure it. If you can’t… make sure I can’t…” He coughs again, and she replies as confidently as her wavering voice will allow, “It will’ne come to tha’. Maerin’s mixin’ ye some medicine present tock.”

“... ‘This moment’...” corrects the warrior wearily.

Coco chokes, nodding. “Aye. This moment.”

Maerin retorts as she takes a sip of her alcohol, prompting Gyrryth to extract the flask from her grip, “Ey! I’m no’a-not mixin’ wha’ I don’ know. I’m splishin’ some stuff to see wha’ happens. Don’ you go puttin’ magics on THIS fairy.” She stumbles, and Gyrryth says, “One step at a time, of course. Are you certain this apparatus will be sufficient?”

Maerin shrugs sloppily, replying with reduced concern, “Menh-enh. But, I tell you this… I’d rather j-j-... ge’sick wiff Murmur than *hic* go backs to me alleyway. So le’s do this! Woooooo!”

Coco frowns apologetically at Mury, but a soft chuckle leaves his helmet. “I appreciate you all… working for my benefit.”

“No’ jus’ ye benefit, Mury…” counter’s Coco softly. “We want ye ta be monsty slayin’ strong again.”

He nods softly, and she unfolds a blanket and covers him.

Lykha darts in suddenly, saying brightly, “Everyone! I think I know where we have to go!”

Coco stands up, saying sassily, “We no’ followin’ the scattergab of some soggy-brained babblewaif!”

“No!” Lykha fidgets, “Two-leaf was nice… But, I actually found a fairy elder. She helped me. The plague is concentrated that way, and there’s an oasis in the middle of it.”

Gyrryth, a little skeptical, holds Maerin’s flask out of her reach as she tries to fly to his hand. “What makes you so certain, Gentle One?”

“You can see it from the end of the limb. The forest is dead there, except for the oasis! Something is keeping the oasis alive, and I think it can help us.”

Coco asks with her hands on her hips, “You want to risk ‘Bando on a clean spot in the dead part o’ the sticks?”

Lykha replies as she looks at all of them, “We have time to reach the oasis and try something else if I’m wrong. But,... I can feel it. This is the right answer. There has to be something there that can help.”

Maerin replies drunkenly as she sips from a flask that causes Gyrryth to double-take, “I ain’ leavin’ the rollie thing on thi’ mission anywhy. I don’ nee’ta meet no half-dead zombie monsters, ‘cept Murmur.” She laughs, unfitting the situation as Gyrryth sighs, disgusted that, though he’s still holding her first flask, she clearly retrieved one of her spares while he was focused on Lykha. He gives up, handing the first flask back to the wishless fairy, while Lykha replies to the inebriated fairy, “Probably not the worst idea. But, we’re not going to let him turn, right?”

Coco nods confidently, saying, “Aye!” She points sternly at Murtoa, adding, “You no’ gettin’ off tha’ easy, Love!”

Murtoa coughs, but he manages to give a thumb’s up, and Gyrryth replies, “With luck, we will be able to find a cure with minimal conflict.” The large lizardman monster hunter fastens a recent purchase of his own to his waist; a second leather belt with a pair of holsters holding two more pistols. He adds dryly, “Given our party’s journey thus far, however, I would be remiss in believing that.”

The others chuckle, and Lykha smiles. She says gently to Coco as she fidgets with her hands, “C-Coco, can I ask you to start driving us northwest?”

The teen puts her hands on her hips, saying smugly, “I be ‘Bando’s next hackslice if’n I refuse an ask so soft, ey?” She points at Maerin and Gyrryth, “Brace ye’ tinkas and be ready when me runna lit and hot. I’m no’ waitin’ when ‘Bando sufferin’.”

Murtoa whispers wearily, “I’m alright. I hate to trouble you, but…” He points at one of the seats, and Gyrryth says, “Indeed. We will need to ensure Sir Murtoa is buckled in. Allow me.”

Maerin hiccups, saying as she rocks back and forth in her inebriated state, “Don’ get any o’ Murmur’s sick on ye. I’m no’a monster slayin’ expert.”

Gyrryth chuckles, replying, “No need to fear. My scales will resist abrasion and minor cuts.” The lizardman helps Murtoa up and all but drags the warrior to the chair, buckling him in. Lykha says as she feels a wave of useless-feelings crossing her mind, “I’m going to see if I can help Coco get the boilers lit.”

The other three nod, though Maerin is mostly focused on assembling her containment, which is little more than a small pipe frame wrapped securely with a rubbery, flexible material that’s mostly transparent. She also dilligently stitches gloves into one of the sides so she can reach inside without becoming contaminated.

Lykha finds the teenage techromancer and owner of the trunk winder adjusting some knobs on the boiler control panel. Coco states, “Fire’s lit, Tricksie. Just need to heat up.”

“Anything I can help you do?”

Surprised, the teen scoffs. “Ye really worried about ‘Bando, ey?”

“Of course. Aren’t you?”

“Aye, but worryin’ meself into a mess no’ gonna get this runna, mmm, trunk winda runnin’. Bu’, if ye worryin’ ye no’a use, scan the outa rounds an’ crunchas an’ make sure we didn’e pick up any unwanted goobs. People goobs or othe’wise.”

Lykha nods, “I can do that.”

Coco points, “Search good, Tricksie. I don’ne want any o’ those needlenoses in me winda, and critter blood rusts the crunchas. ‘Least, lizard blood rusted sand runna turnas.”

“I understand. I’ll check everywhere.”

Coco nods with a smile, and Lykha darts towards the ramp to head outside. She stops by Murtoa, asking gently, “Mury? Are you doing okay? Do you need anything?”

He gives her a thumbs up. “I’ll try to conserve… my energy in case… I can be of use.”

Lykha pouts briefly, heartbroken that Murtoa of Lakia could ever feel that way. And yet…

She swallows, realizing that she must be feeling what they all do when she feels inadequate; that the entire notion is nonsensical.

That’s right… Not everyone can be useful at all times. I need to stop thinking that way and find things to be useful at instead. Like the perimeter check. Don’t waste time.

“Alright, then. I’m going to do a perimeter check for Coco. I’ll check on you again before she’s ready to start rolling.”

“I should… get sick more often…” murmurs the weary warrior.

Lykha chokes on a small laugh, scolding lightly, “That’s not funny.” She hovers close, gingerly touching his helmet. She takes a breath and exhales, “Here I go.” She hovers out around the vehicle, searching high and low for any sort of hitchhikers. She would find it difficult for a person to hitchhike unnoticed, but her small size makes it easy to fly low and look at the undercarriage, where there are, in fact, lizards and insects. She shoos them away as much as possible, though some dart up into crevices even she can’t reach. She knows Coco usually chases larger creatures off of the vehicle, since the smaller ones aren’t as big of a concern from the rust standpoint.

One of the larger lizards hisses at Lykha and adjusts its mouth. Lykha frowns dryly. Wildlife aren’t forbidden from entering certain parts of the fairy village, and more often than not, lizards this size try to take their chances with comparable sized prey; namely, fairies. Just as it positions its feet to move, Lykha hits it with an extremely simple ember from one of her most basic spells, which startles the big predatory lizard into scrambling away across the ground. While fairies are told by the elders not to learn magic, since it brings trouble if not practiced with much care, it’s also not specifically forbidden because the extremely basic elemental spells can save a fairy’s life from wildlife.

The young fairy crosses her arms, huffing. “I remember when I used to be afraid of those.” She resumes her scan around the trunk winder. Other than a few other small creatures, Lykha finds nothing of significance.

She can see heatwaves and smoke leaving the exhaust ports of the boilers, and she smiles. She takes a deep breath.

Don’t worry, Mury.

She sighs in disappointment. Who am I kidding? I’m the one who needs reassuring…

Stay strong, Lykha… She perks up in surprise when Gruicelle’s voice speaks to her softly. Short of death itself, I won’t let him die.

And, if it was created by someone,... starts Nieolsynnys’ voice. They’ll wish they infected themselves.

Lykha gently touches her own chest, saying with a soft smile, “Thank you…”

Rui-buri’s voice chirps in fiercely, HEY! They’re not the only two here! Trade with me, and I’ll burn the plague down with fire!

Lykha scoffs, replying softly, “Fire didn’t work… Gyrryth tried it.”

Pffft! As if a mortal spellcaster and his pathetic tools could match me.

The young fairy takes a new breath and exhales with what confidence she can muster. “Alright. Let’s see if they’re ready to go.”

***

As Lykha might’ve guessed if she thought about it, the oasis they’re driving to, and by extension, the plague’s boundary of thoroughly infected forest, is much further away when actually on the ground and driving towards it, rather than a mile up in the air on a mile-long branch where she can see much further away than she realized; especially when a lot of the undergrowth has been hindered by the plague itself. The trunk winder is nowhere near as fast as the sand cruiser was, but it makes steady progress that can continue day and night, if the group decided that’s how they wanted to travel. However, something is nagging at Lykha a little regarding the plague, but she doesn’t know what. They know where it is, and they know there’s a safe zone, but what does anyone plan to do about the plague if it continues expanding? Even though they were cautious to the point of almost being hostile, the village they just visited didn’t seem to be particularly looking towards an evacuation on the horizon.

It was strange, but then, Lykha hasn’t been home for some months now, and she doesn’t recall any notion of such a disease devouring the forest when she left her village. And, before they can reach the oasis, they’ll have to cross the plague zone, which means…

“Slow us down for now, Fiery One. I shall ensure the vents are closed.”

“Aye!” Coco slows the vehicle as Gyrryth climbs to his feet. The teen says warmly, “While you doin’ tha’, I’ll check on ‘Bando.”

Lykha nods, “Me too.” The two travel to his bunk, where Gyrryth was able to get the human warrior into his bunk once they were down the trunk of the colossal redwood tree. They left him in his armor for obvious reasons, and Coco asks in a soft and tender voice that would stun Lykha if the situation was any different, “M-Mury? Are you awake?”

The warrior whispers in reply, “Yeah. We alright?”

“Gyrryth’s closin’ the vents so we don’ huff the nasty dust.”

Mury takes a deep breath, showing strain related to the illness wearing him down. But, he replies, “Inhale.”

Lykha and Coco both scoff, and Coco replies tenderly, “Aye. Inhale the nasty dust.”

He gives her a thumbs up, coughing weakly.

Lykha is praying that seven days was an accurate number, but watching Murtoa of Lakia losing strength so quickly, she’s starting to worry. She asks gently, “Do you need anything, Mury? We’re stopped for the moment.”

He replies as casually as his diminished strength will allow, “Nah. Don’t want to have to use the restroom in this state more than needed. Let me know if you need another set of hands…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” cry out both young women. Lykha fidgets sheepishly as Coco points at him, “Ye in no’ musta’ta crunch sand!” She pauses, realizing that saying isn’t as applicable anymore. “Ta… ta work! Rest.”

He chuckles weakly, replying, “Alright.”

“Lykha?” It’s Maerin, and the inebriated fairy is leaning on Gyrryth’s bunk, which is below the bunk belonging to the two fairies. She waves Lykha down to the floor level, and the younger fairy glances at Mury and Coco, hovering down to Maerin’s level and standing on the floor as she stays ready to catch the mature fairy.

Maerin tries to straighten up, waving Lykha closer. Naturally, though, the drunken fairy ‘whispers’ much louder than a whisper, “Lykha! I nee’ yer help.”

Lykha nods, “Of course. What do you need?”

Maerin shoves a water bottle less-than-gracefully into Lykha’s arms, saying, “Drink this fer starts. Stars. Starsers.”

Lykha inspects the bottle cautiously, instantly suspicious given the circumstances as Maerin starts stumbling back to the hold. She waves Lykha after her, saying, “C’mon, c’mon, Lykha. It’s importand. Drink. Drink!”

The younger fairy starts walking behind Maerin, but not without glancing at Coco, who is confused as well. Maerin is acting much more suspicious than ever before. She’s not even this strange or secretive about her drinking. Lykha opens the bottle, inhaling briefly through her nose. Fairies are more sensitive to smells than most -at least, Lykha’s pretty sure they are, though her comparisons are Coco and Mury, who aren’t great comparisons given their respective professions-.

But, she smells nothing other than water and the faint remnants of Maerin’s cleaning alcohol. She taste-tests cautiously, but sure enough, it’s simple water. She drinks from the bottle, while Maerin as the fairy enters the hold, saying as Gyrryth walks across the hold to check the rear vents, “We’re on the floor, Gyrryth! Don’s squishy me!”

Gyrryth replies, “Thank you, Mature One.”

Just as quickly though, she shoos the lizardman out of the hold, saying, “Quick quick, Gyrryth! We has important work to do!”

“Is there any way I can be of…”

“NO! Get out!”

Surprising both Gyrryth and Lykha, Maerin is indeed behaving extremely strangely. No sooner is Gyrryth out of the hold, cautiously glancing back at them, does Maerin shove an empty jar into Lykha’s hand, saying, “Lykha, you no’ gonna like this…”

Lykha inspects the water bottle in one hand and the empty jar in the other hand, trying to piece together what in the world Maerin is thinking. She notices Maerin take a drink of water as well, wiping her mouth as she flies painstakingly up to the benchtop where her containment is. “I narrowed down the *hic!* ingrejients that matter.” Lykha flies up to Maerin’s level, inspecting the pieces of flesh and the bottles in the containment. One of the pieces of flesh has its normal color restored. Maerin shows her a vial of slightly amber liquid, similar in color to honey, but with the consistency of water, and she says, “Gots us a bio-... bio… it kills the whites stuff, righ’chere.” She massages her temples as she strains to remember the right words. Lykha is more often than not amazed and thankful that Maerin can do her job as good or better than sober when she’s drunk, but it doesn’t stop her from struggling to convey her thoughts. And, she’s more reckless when she does. She proves this when she tosses the vial in a flip for no other reason than because her fogged brain decided it was a good idea. Lykha gasps, especially when Maerin nearly drops it, but Maerin starts laughing. She falls onto her backside as she’s laughing, cradling the vial in her arms. Lykha sighs relief, and the mature fairy says, “I need as much as I can get. If we can’t cure Murmur, maybes we can kill the germs in him. If not, at least this shoul’ keep the monsties back.”

Lykha asks skeptically, “Maerin… What’s in that vial?”

“Hmm? Oh! Uh, some vinegar, sulfur dioxide, uh… some… eh, I dunno. But, I’m tapped out. I need yours now.”

“Myyy…” Lykha’s stomach twists. She looks at the two containers still in her hands. Her eyes widen, and Maerin says as she gracelessly scratches her chest under her poncho, “Yeahhh… So, the sooner, the better.”

“WAIT! I-IT’S… U-URINE!?”

Maerin expresses boredom, sticking her hand up through the neck of her poncho from underneath, murmuring, “Told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“THAT’S DISGUSTING! YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS!”

“Think I’ve been enjoyin’ it?” She starts to uncap the vial in her hands, halting, before she tightens the lid and then takes her water bottle to drink. She snickers at herself, “That would’ve been embarrassin’ *hic!*.”

Lykha sets the jar down and the water bottle, huffing, “I’m going back to-...”

“I don’t know why. But, it had to be there.”

“HOW could that make sense!?” asks Lykha desperately.

“Dunno. On me list of priortities… pfft!... priorories… figurin’ out what’s in my pee ain’t high. But, there’s clearly somethin’.”

“Wh-What about…?”

“Nope. Only ours works.”

“You already asked Coco and Gyrryth, didn’t you?”

“Coco yes, Gyrryth no. You crazy?”

Lykha screams, “COCO!”

Maerin massages her temples again, groaning. “Why yell? Hers didn’t work. I already said tha’, didn’ I?”

“Why mine, though!?”

“Mine too…”

“WHY!?”

Maerin sighs, wincing under Lykha’s raised voice. She replies wearily, “You know that stinky from cats peein’? Same kinda idea… I think… What do you want? Murmur’s dyin’. This be no time for jokes.”

Lykha’s heart tightens. Maerin said the magic words, and all of Lykha’s resistance melts away. She whines, groaning as she rubs her eyes in disgust and disbelief. She snatches the empty jar, saying caustically, “Mury never hears of this.”

Maerin scoffs, taking a drink of her water bottle. “I think he’d forgive us…”

“NEVER…” hisses Lykha wickedly. She hovers to the restroom to carry out her horrifying duty.

She WILL be watching what Maerin does with it carefully.

She’s still extremely skeptical of her drunken senior, but then…

Murtoa of Lakia’s life is on the line, and not even Maerin would let herself get that drunk.

Hopefully.

***