I sat with that phrase for a moment. It was clear how true it was, as Olivine gathered materials with manic glee, and it made me wonder…
“Can I ask you something else?”
“You can ask all the questions you want,” she said, unspooling the silken thread, using strong hands that moved with a gentle, even rhythm.
“Why did you want to be a doctor?”
She paused, not expecting such a meaty question, and took some time to chew on it, looking around at the medical equipment.
“It’s what I was meant for, I guess.” She pointed a finger at the wall and raised it slowly. As she did, the wood split down a fine line. “I must have been eighteen when I realized the full scope of this Variety. I was visiting my small cousins in the Emerald Clan, when one of them found an old sword in a shed. She was only five, and accidentally sliced her arm while exploring.”
I cringed, thinking of the time something similar had happened to me. My palm was still scarred from an angry thorn bush.
She continued, “It was a bad cut, and I mean bad. I’d never seen her so scared. I had only ever used my power to split or reseal wood, or to stop things from moving. I didn’t consider the possibility of using it on people, but when I tried to seal the wound, it worked perfectly on the first try. There was no scar and no pain.”
Warmth emitted from her, and I could feel it across dimensions. I might have imagined it, but the image of a child with a relieved smile flashed behind my eyes.
“After that,” she said, “I knew exactly what I was meant to do. To take away someone's fear like that… I’ll never forget it.”
“Thanks for telling me that,” I said, and I meant it. Until then I had seen Reaper as a burden, but now I found myself curious. A burden, there was no denying it, but if I could use it to ease the burdens of others…
I left the office, feeling much less afraid.
The next day, I continued shrouding myself and others into the Unseen, an action that was taking less and less effort. Even the unbreakably serious Tungsten didn’t drain my energy as fast.
Gold-and-Silver suggested it had to do with building trust amongst the group. He sat up in the swing, scribbling in a different notebook. Given the speed of his writing, he had filled the one from yesterday.
“I'd like to see how Badger can interact with a willing soul this afternoon.” He looked up expectantly. “Any volunteers?”
Sharp shook her head. “I would rather not do that again.”
Willow choked on his drink. “Um, I mean, I would but…”
Piranha sprang in to save him. “I'll do it! Sounds like a hoot!”
“Are you sure?” I teased. “Who knows what will happen? I hope you aren't hiding any nasty secrets.”
They shrugged, unaffected by my provocations. “I'm an open book, you know that.”
“It would be an honor,” I bowed my head. I’d known Piranha longer than the others, since before I could even remember. Their family had stayed in Pantmawr for a while when we were toddlers, and as such became close friends with my mothers. When Piranha and I were only two years old, we used to sit next to each other in a sandbox, sharing our tools.
When it started to rain, the doctor, Piranha, and myself moved to the large circular sitting room at the bottom of the tree. The others decided to train on their own at the top (Willow enjoyed the rain, and Sharp was notorious for challenging herself).
Piranha stood weaponless, hands in their pockets, while Gold- and-Silver took notes with a dutiful type of madness.
“What should I do when I switch dimensions?” I asked. “I'm nervous my power will work like Pyrite's, and I'm not willing to possess anybody.”
The doctor shook his head. “It shouldn't come to that. All you need to do is follow your heart.”
The both of us burst into laughter.
“That's some hokey advice doc,” Piranha said.
“It's still true.” He tapped a finger on his own heart. “The soul powers the heart and keeps the body moving to fulfill its passions and purposes. You can only use it in the way you want to, remember that.”
I exhaled and I gave my friend a determined stare. “I will. Fangs, are you ready?”
“Born ready!”
I entered the Unseen. Piranha had a dim orange soul, and unlike the others, I perceived a faint white outline of their silhouette. I plunged my hand into the light, warm like the air near a fireplace, cozy and contained.
"Can you hear me?" I spoke aloud. No reaction.
Listen, I thought, I want you to move over to the doctor.
They didn't move, but they did say, “All I can sense right now is a presence. Try to force a feeling.”
A feeling? How was I supposed to do that? I searched my mind for a memory and landed on the time Pir and I traveled to the nearby town of Pavv during the education season five years back. We were learning the basics of Pavvan pottery: sculpting, firing, and painting clay cookware. On the final day of the week-long course, Piranha hit me square in the face with some wet clay, leading to a messy battle with the entire class. It was great fun, but a pain to clean up.
They chuckled.
I reappeared. “Did that work? Am I the one that made you laugh?”
“I just remembered the clay fight we had during—”
“Yeah!” I punched the air. “That's what I was trying to get you to think about!”
