The Last Orellen

That Kind of Kitten

“H-have we hugged enough now?” Kalen asked, resisting the urge to squirm away from the small green woman’s death grip. “Can you tell me how to go back home yet?”

The pixie—who’d had time to introduce herself as Mother Lutcha, Lutcha, One-Winged Lutcha, and Seventh Strongest Chaotic Pixie in the Second World during the extremely long hug—squeezed him even tighter, then stepped back, beaming.

“Humans trust people who give good hugs,” she said. “It’s a scientific fact. The effect is probably stronger with astral hugs. So even though we were only friendly acquaintances before, we’re actual friends now.”

“Okay,” said Kalen. Then, hoping it wasn’t rude, he added, “But we haven’t met before. I’m pretty sure…no, I’m absolutely sure I’d remember you.”

And that was saying something, since he wasn’t sure of much at all right now. His mind was spinning so fast he was surprised he didn’t feel nauseated. Or astrally nauseated.

He was having a hard time with the idea, but apparently he was currently a disembodied soul. He and Lutcha were speaking and touching on some plane that the human practitioner who owned this cottage—Megimon Orellen, a high sorcerer from the second world—wasn’t even aware of.

Kalen would normally have been interested in meeting the famous mapmaker and questioning him about the Orellen family, but he didn’t like this current situation at all.

There was no way your soul being disconnected from your body was a good thing. And while he was vaguely aware that the most powerful practitioners sometimes ascended through the rift to a second world, he’d never had any thought of visiting it himself.

Especially not without the rest of him coming along for the trip.

“We’ve met!” Lutcha told him, her voice bright. “You were dying a gruesome death in a small village in the desert. Megimon found you, and I helped you out. You just don’t remember because human souls tend to lose most of their memories when they’re disconnected from their bodies. Only the really fundamental things stick. Profound loves and deep traumas and the like.”

Kalen considered telling her he’d never even seen a desert before, but he didn’t think they had time to argue considering his current situation. “Can you help me get back to Hemarland? And back to being me?”

“Sure,” she said, tossing her hair over a bony shoulder. “But do you really want to go? Successful astral existence in this world is pretty impressive! After your body dies and you lose your connection to all your memories, I could feed your soul up nice and fat. In a century or two, you could be a really potent spiritual monster. We could do fun stuff together all the time!”

It was strange. Lutcha had just said several things that should have caused Kalen extreme, gut-churning panic, but he found he could only feel moderately concerned.

Maybe not having a body was affecting his emotions?

A sudden sigh from Megimon made Kalen glance over. At the desk, the sorcerer was rubbing his forehead and staring at his book. “Lutcha, I can see you bouncing around over there from the corner of my eye. It’s very distracting. What in the worlds are you doing?”

The pixie spun toward him. “Talking to Scratches.”

“Your invisible cat?” Megimon said skeptically. “The one you swear you didn’t eat?”

“That’s the one!” Lutcha said.

“Aren’t you going to tell him about me?” Kalen asked. “I’d like to talk to him.”

He didn’t add that he’d rather talk to anyone human at this moment. It didn’t seem safe to antagonize the pixie.

Lutcha turned toward him, and one of her eyelids shifted sideways in a wink. “Oh, you don’t want to talk to him. He’s a sweet, fussy thing for a practitioner, and he’ll be so busy worrying over the morality of your situation that he might stop me from helping you.”

“I’m still not buying you another one, Lutcha, no matter what you say,” said Megimon, frowning down at her. “When you get a moment, will you bring me more tea?”

“Sure. I’ll fix it up just the way you like it.”

Kalen could tell from Lutcha’s face that she was lying, but Megimon apparently couldn’t.

“Come on,” said the pixie, gesturing for Kalen to follow her. “We’ve got things to do.”

“Do any of those things involve sending me home?”

“Well, we have to make some preparations first,” she said, turning her back to him. “It’s not like it’s easy to blast a soul out of this world and back into a specific body in the first world. In fact, I would have said it was impossible until ten minutes ago. But I’ve got a pretty good idea of how to do it now that I know who you are.”

She led him to a cozy kitchen, where she uncapped the end of a shiny metal tube that protruded from the wall. She used a spark from her finger to light the end of it, and a bright purple flame appeared.

“The pipe condenses the natural gasses in this part of the swamp,” Lutcha explained.

Interested, Kalen leaned toward the peculiar fire, wondering how it was going to help him get home. He was disappointed when he realized that the tube and flame set-up was just for cooking.

Lutcha hung a pot full of water on an iron hook over the fire and began throwing in a bunch of herbs and spices. The only thing Kalen recognized was lavender.

“So it makes the house smell nice,” Lutcha said, brushing her hands over the pot.

“It’s really complicated for tea.”

“Isn’t it though?”

The pixie made a wriggling gesture with her fingers, and a tray full of small meat pies that had been cooling on a shelf drifted toward her. If the little pastry animal shapes on top were anything to go by, they were filled with the winged fish that lived in the pond outside.

“We’ll carry these outside with us. I didn’t cook them just to have them go boom. We’ve got about half an hour I think, and I need your help with Scratches.”

Kalen didn’t know what was supposed to ‘go boom.’ Unless he’d misunderstood and the tea wasn’t tea? But he ignored that for now. “You are going to send me home, aren’t you?”

“You’re so focused on that! I told you, the worst that could happen if I don’t is you get to become a really unique kind of monster, and we can be friends forever and ever. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s a relief,” said Kalen sarcastically.

Lutcha beamed at him. “I know, right? Let’s go find my cat.”

#

Kalen didn’t want to leave the house, since the interior of the cottage was by far the most sane-looking part of this place. But Lutcha coaxed him outdoors by pointing out that even though Lowing Swamp was full of things that could kill a normal novice practitioner, there was nothing there particularly dangerous for an abnormal one who’d left his physical body in an entirely different realm.

“Except for me,” said the pixie, grinning so that her pointed teeth shone white. “So you’re totally safe.”

Before Kalen knew it, he was crawling around the perimeter of the house on his hands and knees, checking bushes and buckets and small sinkholes for the missing Scratches. “Why do you think I can find him or her? How do you know the fish didn’t eat your cat, anyway?”

Lutcha was following him around at an uncomfortably close distance while she plucked tidbits out of one of the pies and licked the sauce from them. “Because my own astral senses are dull as eggs, and yours are sharp as the pixie queen’s tongue right now. You just look like a boy-shaped blur to me. And Scratches isn't as easy to spot as you. I haven't seen him in a week or two. He’s a good kitty. Very stubborn. He knows how to hide himself.”

Kalen, who had just had the disturbing experience of putting his face through the side of a rickety wooden shed to check the interior, pulled himself free and stared down at the pixie.

“Do you mean your cat is…where I am? In the astral state?”

She squinted at a pea she’d just liberated from the pie, then she tossed it aside. “Yes, try calling his name. Use a friendly voice. He likes that.”

“How does a cat astral project? I mean…I don’t even understand how I did it, but at least I’m a wizarn.”

“Well, I helped him of course!” Lutcha said, looking offended. “Do you know what the lifespan of an ordinary house cat is? It’s short. You just blink a few times, and they’re decomposing in a cupboard somewhere. I’m a responsible pet owner, so I extracted his astral form so that he wouldn’t die of old age.”

“Oh, was he old and sick?” Kalen said. It was an extreme thing to do, but he supposed if Sleepynerth grew ill, and he was powerful enough… “I have a pet pig.”

“See. You understand. Scratches was just a kitten when I helped him achieve an astral state,” said Lutcha. “That way he can maximize his potential by growing up there. Though it'll take him a long time if I can't get the right kind of food for him. By the way, Scratches is his nickname, so if he doesn’t answer, try calling him Soteole.”

Kalen didn’t see how the pixie had gotten Scratches from Soteole, but he went along with it. Now that he knew the cat he was looking for was stuck in the same situation as him, the search became more difficult. Kalen started checking inside solid tree trunks and beneath the surface of puddles.

If he didn’t need to breathe, he figured the cat didn’t either.

Once she finished picking at her lunch, Lutcha started asking Kalen questions. Some of them were innocent, others bizarre. Did he have a nice house? What did his hair look like? How far had he advanced on the path to the second world?

“What do you mean you're not even a magician? That’s so embarrassing. You should be so embarrassed you want to die. Again. How old are you now anyway? No, never mind. Human ages are confusing to me. What’s it like to have hundreds of siblings? Have you met any of the others? I bet you’re the best one, aren’t you? That’s probably because I was involved in your rebirth. I wasn't supposed to poke at your soul before Megimon stuck it in the Disc, but I did a little bit because I was curious.”

Kalen, who had just begun to wade reluctantly into the flycarp pond, froze. Several of the odd things Lutcha had said—things he had attributed to her being an alien creature from another world—suddenly clicked into place.

It’s probably good my emotions are blunted right now.

He thought the information he was about to ask for would upset him badly when he was back to being himself.

“The rumors are true then?” he said, after drawing in a deep breath that wasn’t a breath at all. “The Orellens really did…make me somehow? And others like me? Hundreds of them?”

Hundreds.

According to the rumors Zevnie had heard, nearly forty children had been found. The tiny, unwelcome part of Kalen that refused to ignore the mystery of his birth had assumed there must only be a few like him left. After all, there had only been thirty or so in the room where he’d met the others. He’d thought that was most of them. Or maybe, if there was another room full of them somewhere, he’d guessed there might have been sixty in total.

“You’re number nine hundred forty-three of the extras,” Lutcha said in a cheerful voice. “And you’re the last one they cobbled together. Add in the original kids your parents made in the fun way…I think it was nine, if you go by that prophecy that has the lower world so stirred up? And I guess you have nine hundred fifty-one brothers and sisters. Family get-togethers will be interesting for sure!”

Kalen’s thoughts spun. He wasn’t sure if he was glad so many of his siblings likely remained safe, or if he was appalled that they existed in the first place. But he tucked the information away to think about when he’d escaped from this place.

Then, he prepared to ask his next question. If the pixie was someone who could give him answers, Kalen would take them.

“You said you met me in the desert, and I was dying? And you and Megimon helped me? Did you heal me, and then take me to the Orellens? Did they do something to my mind, and that’s why I can’t remember my past?”

“Please go check in the pond for my cat. Yes, I helped you. No, I didn’t heal you. When your original body was dead, Megimon extracted your soul using the Disc of the Sacred Fate and carried you to the Orellens. They put you inside the magically modified and re-animated corpse of a peasant child who'd died of plague. It was such a dark, peculiar thing to do; don’t tell Megimon, but I was kind of impressed. And if you’re smart, you should know why you can’t remember your past. We just discussed it.”

Kalen stared at her. Even when he was this way, it was too much. When Lutcha looked like she was about to continue, he dove under the water just to have a moment to himself.

Human souls don’t hold on to most of their memories when they’re fully separated from their bodies, he thought. I was someone else before I was me.

In a way, he'd been two someone elses before he became himself.

And both of them had died.

Kalen closed his eyes and tried to remember his former lives. Maybe there was something there…?

But he couldn’t even dredge up the names of those other two boys who’d come before him.

Lutcha had said only soul-deep things remained. Loves and traumas. Maybe that voice that had tried to stop him from casting the wind cantrip had known something about what would happen next?

Kalen stayed below the mucky green surface of the pond for a long time before he ever started looking for the pixie’s cat.

When he finally pulled his thoughts together and set out to complete the task, he realized it would be difficult. The pond was deep and full of plants, logs, and other debris. Lutcha had said an astral being should be able to see through nearby physical objects at will, but Kalen hadn’t figured out how to do it.

He headed up to the surface, trying to ignore how bizarre swimming felt when the resistance of the water was more conceptual than anything else. The pixie was still lounging on the bank.

“I’m just Kalen,” he said to her, as soon as their eyes met. “My parents are Jorn and Shelba of Hemarland. I don’t have a thousand siblings. I only have one sister. Her name is Fanna.” He paused, then conceded, “And maybe I have a brother named Tomas.”

“Do you think I’m a liar?” Lutcha asked curiously, flicking some kind of dark blue acorn at him. It fell through his head and floated on the surface of the pond. “Or are you just stating your chosen reality so that we’re both on the same page?”

“Th-the last one?” Kalen stumbled a little over the idea of choosing reality, but it fit.

“That’s fine by me,” said Lutcha. “One-winged pixies aren’t big fans of real reality anyway. But at the least, you should probably know that you used to be someone other than Kalen. And when you were that other person, you were possessed by an aerial spirit from the nothingness beyond the third world.”

I didn’t even know there was a third world. But Kalen remembered what had happened after his spell went wrong.

“Something grabbed me,” he said, trying to recall exactly what it had felt like. “Something outside of me grabbed me. It was evil and strong, and somehow, I kicked it out almost by accident. But it felt really wrong.”

“And that was how you messed up your wind cantrip?”

“I was experimenting. So I’m pretty sure the spell was a disaster before that happened,” Kalen admitted.

The pixie was staring thoughtfully down at another acorn.

“Since you’re a baby human who doesn’t know anything at all, I should tell you that possession by a sylph is very bad for one’s health and magic. When we found the other you in the desert, your pathways were practically liquefied. I wanted to study them for longer, but Megimon said no. I thought you might not ever be able to cast again, but I guess you’re good enough to botch a cantrip.”

“I can cast,” said Kalen. “I’m just more complicated inside than I’m supposed to be, I think.”

He explained the spell he’d been trying, and what the results had been.

Lutcha sighed longingly when the tale was finished. “You were fascinating before. I bet you’re positively delicious now. It’s a pity I can’t take another look at your mana structure and see what you’ve got going on, but you probably can’t even access it yourself when you’re in this state.”

“I can’t feel my magic right now,” Kalen agreed.

“Inconvenient.” Lutcha flicked the second acorn at him. “I know the blood rituals Megimon’s crazy relatives were using should have given you an Orellen’s genetic potential; your second nucleus is almost definitely spatial magic, you poor thing. Most humans are far too stupid to do anything exciting with that one. But if you’re still triggering the sylph’s attention, then you haven’t lost your natural inclination for what the first world calls wind magic at all. That’s very interesting. The other you who died in the desert must have been an extraordinary prodigy.”

Wind and space? Kalen was so interested in Lutcha’s knowledge that he suddenly found himself sitting beside her, not quite sure how he’d gotten out of the flycarp pond.

“You can have two different affinities?” he asked, leaning toward her.

“Sure,” said Lutcha, “if you have access to two different traceries. But that’s not likely to occur naturally. Hybrid practitioners are sometimes deliberately crafted in this world, but it’s complicated even here. It’s not supposed to happen to you accidentally. Considering your origins, I’m certain you’re not a model of magical elegance.”

“Traceries?”

“Pathways. Mappings. Puppet strings. Weavings. Pieces of the overpattern.”

“Oh…I didn’t know there were so many names for it.”

“The first world is small. You people barely understand what magic really is.” The pixie narrowed her eyes at Kalen. “You know what else is small? My cat.”

“Just one more question! I promise! Is the sylph going to try to do that to me again? Every time I cast a wind spell?”

“If you find Scratches, I’ll tell you,” said Lutcha. “We don’t have much more time.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the pixie’s expression shifted, and in an instant, she looked ready to do violence.

Kalen leaped up and spun back toward the pond. “Scratches!” he called, wading back into the water. “Here, Scratches! Soteole! Good kitty!”

#

When Kalen finally found the pixie’s cat, he was surprised by how normal it looked.

Well…normal for a kitten who was happily sitting inside a rotting log at the bottom of a pond. It was small and orange with a fluffy tail that stuck straight up in the air as it explored the log.

“Scratches?” Kalen asked.

The cat mewed. Though it didn’t seem eager to come to him, it did allow itself to be picked up and carried back to the surface.

Scratches was warm and fluffy in Kalen’s arms, and he felt instantly attached because the cat was the most touchable thing he’d found since he ended up in this world. Even Lutcha’s astral hug hadn’t felt quite this real.

“Lutcha!” he called, keeping a tight grip on the squirming ball of fur while he looked around for the pixie. “Lutcha, I found him!”

He eventually spotted her clinging to the windowsill of the cottage, peering inside the study.

“What are you doing?” he asked, heading over to join her.

“Shhh…this is the key moment. Just don’t let go of him,” she said to Kalen. Then, to the cat in his arms, she added. “Scratches baby, Mother loves you, and she’s got a nice astral supper saved up for you! She’s just fetching it now.”

Before Kalen could ask what she meant, an explosion rocked the peaceful little cottage.

One of the window panes in front of Kalen cracked, and Megimon Orellen tumbled right out of his chair onto the floor.

Startled, Kalen watched as dark, purple-gray smoke poured into the sorcerer’s study through the kitchen door.

“Lutcha!” Megimon cried, struggling with his long white robes as he clambered to his feet. “Lutcha, what’s going on in there?!”

A moment later, he disappeared into the smoke-filled kitchen, holding his sleeve over his nose.

Kalen turned to ask the pixie what that pot full of “tea” really was and found she was gone. It wasn't long before he spotted the glimmer of something metallic moving through the smoke in the study, and Lutcha soon appeared on the other side of the glass, waving the golden disc from the bookshelf triumphantly.

She unlatched the window from inside and hopped out, easily carrying the large, rune-covered device over her head like a victor’s trophy.

Smoke billowed from the window, surrounding Kalen, Lutcha, and Scratches.

“Can your astral form smell that?” the pixie asked, drawing in a dramatic breath and smiling.

Kalen sniffed curiously. “Not really. I don’t think I have a sense of smell.”

“Pity. It’s awesome! Lavender with just a hint of sulfur. Mmm…the house will smell like it for weeks. Good job holding onto Scratches. As soon as we feed him his dinner we can send you home.”

An outraged shout sounded from the kitchen, and the pixie smiled. “He’ll understand when I explain it to him later. But for now, let’s go hide in the swamp!”

She shot off with absurd speed for someone her size, and Kalen chased after her. He was only able to keep up because he didn’t have to dodge around the swamp’s eerily twisted trees or oozing patches of mud; he could just dash right through.

Minutes later, they were sitting together on the low-hanging limb of a tree that was covered in thorns as long as Kalen’s fingers. Lutcha crouched over the Disc of the Sacred Fate. Scratches wandered up and down the tree limb, examining the thorns. Kalen kept one eye on the cat while he watched the pixie imbue different parts of the Disc she’d stolen with magic.

At first, he’d thought the Disc was a simple device because its shape gave it an unassuming quality. It looked like someone had flattened a golden dinner plate and then sharpened the edge.

But Kalen soon realized that the elaborate rune circles he’d thought were only etched into the face of the plate were actually made up of interlocking rings of metal that could move independently of one another through some unfathomable mechanism. Lutcha could spin the Disc’s rings so that different symbols aligned in different ways, and once, she even touched part of it that made a smaller ring slide beneath a larger one and disappear from view.

“How does it work?” Kalen asked.

“I’d sell the rest of my soul to chaos if someone would tell me,” said Lutcha. “Megimon and I haven’t even deciphered most of the runes. We’ve just got the most basic functions down. And we don’t even understand how those work, only their effects.”

“Can’t you ask another practitioner?”

“Only if we want them to kill us and steal it,” said Lutcha. “Even the basic functions are worth more than either of our lives. The Disc of the Sacred Fate clips small pieces out of the universal pattern and stitches them back into new locations.”

Kalen’s complete lack of understanding must have shown even on his blurry astral face.

“For example,” said Lutcha, “if there was a wind prodigy’s soul floating around in the desert and you wanted to move it to a new body, you could make a few little snips with the Disc and the soul would be tucked away inside it, ready to be put in a comfy, cozy plague corpse.”

Kalen resisted the urge to scoot away from the device. “It’s…scissors for souls?”

“More like scissors for all kinds of magic. You can clip spells out and move them, too. But only one at a time so far. Lately, I’ve been using it to make dinner for Soteole.”

She must have gotten the Disc set correctly, because all of a sudden it flared with light. A thread of pale mist appeared at the center. Lutcha tugged on the thread, and a creature emerged from the plate, like a rabbit popping out of its burrow.

It was a snake with bulging eyes, and it wriggled frantically in Lutcha’s grip.

“You expect the kitten to eat that?”

“He’ll love it. Astral snacks are hard to come by, you know. And this is a very powerful magical beast I killed just for him—didn’t I, Soteole? Come to Mother, and have a nice yummy bogcroak for dinner!”

When the cat didn’t pay any attention to her, the pixie sighed. “Scratches Out The Eyes of Lutcha’s Enemies, you’d better not make me put this back in the Disc.”

Kalen blinked. “Scratches and Soteole are short for…”

“It’s a great name isn’t it?” she said eagerly. “I came up with it myself!”

The snake made a sound more like a frog’s croak than a snake’s hiss, and the kitten’s ears perked up. He wiggled his tail and began to stalk toward the snake. “Good boy!” cried Lutcha. “Here, I’ll hold onto its nasty little head so that it can’t bite you.”

The kitten set to work on his strange dinner, and Kalen looked away. He wondered if the snake was really being eaten, or if its essence was somehow being absorbed by the kitten. After all, he didn’t think he or the cat or the snake could eat in the traditional manner.

Or maybe they could if they ate each other? Scratches felt just like a real cat to Kalen.

“Now,” said Lutcha, still holding onto the head of the snake, “we need to get you back to your body before it gets murdered or dies of thirst or something. So listen close and Mother Lutcha will tell you everything you need to know about everything.”

“Okay.”

“What we know about the nothingness beyond the third world is mostly conjecture. Nobody’s ever been there, and everyone has different opinions about it. But what we are sure of is that it’s the source of magic. Personally, I think it’s a kind of chaos soup, swirling around out there, waiting to become.”

“Become what?”

“Sometimes, even in the first world, a person will touch a magic that resonates out into the nothingness. And a part of the nothingness will hear that call and follow it back to its source. Suddenly that piece of nothing becomes something. And we call that something a demon or a spirit or any of a thousand other names.”

“So the sylph was nothing? And then it became something? And it tried to possess the other me?”

Lutcha smiled. “See! It’s easy to understand, isn’t it? I’m such a good teacher.”

“I’m confused,” said Kalen.

“Other you wouldn’t have been. Like I said, he must have been an undiscovered prodigy with a natural understanding of what you call wind magic. But he did something a little too perfect. Maybe it was intentional, or maybe it was an accident. Whatever the case, it rang through the universe like a bell. And it inspired a small fragment of the nothingness to want more.”

Lutcha looked down at her kitten. Tendrils of mist were spiraling off the snake as Scratches ate his dinner.

“Wanting is a dangerous thing, Kalen,” said the pixie. “Too much of it makes us all into monsters.”

Kalen couldn’t answer for a moment. He was still trying to absorb the idea of nothing soup suddenly turning into the thing that had attacked him.

“Does it still want me?” he asked after he thought he’d at least begun to get a handle on the concept. “The sylph?”

Lutcha laughed wickedly. “Oh, it must want you more desperately than minds like ours can fathom, but it can’t have you anymore. Do you know how that kind of possession works? It’s a one-time thing. The sylph was born into the boy you were. Its very existence was molded to fit him body, soul, and magic. It’s a key made for a single lock.”

She patted Kalen on the knee.

“But the possession didn’t take. There wasn’t quite enough power in that part of the Erberen to fuel it, and it was forced to retreat back to the nothingness. Then Megimon and I came along and broke the sylph’s perfect lock apart. The Orellen blood magic finished the job.”

“So why did it try again?”

“You must have rung the bell,” Lutcha replied. “It thought it recognized its natural home. But when it tried to fit itself into the lock, everything about you rejected it. A human isn’t just their body or their soul or their magic. The system works in unison. Change one, and you change it all. You’re still familiar to the sylph, but you don't belong to it anymore.”

Lutcha dropped the rest of the astral snake for Scratches to work on. It was more of a puddle of mist than anything else now. She began to twist the rings on the Disc of the Sacred Fate again. “You should be able to perform your little cantrip, and any other kind of wind magic, safely. I think. It was the other thing you did that called the sylph.”

“What other thing?”

“Don’t cast through the wind nucleus,” said Lutcha. “Work around it. And if you have to try, definitely don’t draw that symbol you described that came so naturally to you.”

“The one I drew in the air?”

“Yes. That one.”

Kalen remembered how it had felt to do it—familiar and simple, even though it was the first time he’d ever seen it. “What was it?”

“The beginnings of a spell too big for my second favorite kitten to play with. Unless he wants a panicky sylph to yank his soul through the rift again.”

“Is that what happened?” Kalen said, too surprised to address the fact that Lutcha apparently thought of him as a pet now. “The sylph pulled me here?”

Lutcha began imbuing runes on the Disc, setting them alight. “Well, it probably just pulled without any real goal in mind. I’m guessing that you activated your own spatial magic nexus subconsciously in response. It’s actually a very common escape reflex for portalists…though Megimon tells me it just gives anyone below the sorcerer level a bad case of vertigo.”

“Only I did it while something else was yanking on me?”

“You pushed, and it pulled, and the two of you dragged your soul right through the rift!” For some reason, the pixie giggled. “It would be a stupendous achievement if you’d done it on purpose. I think you may be the first person in history to astral project between worlds.”

“I’d rather not do it again.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be wise to,” she agreed. “Your soul should have vaporized during the jump. I’ll probably spend the next decade trying to figure out why it didn’t. The Disc must still be anchoring you or stabilizing you in some way since you ended up here in our cottage, but I can’t begin to guess how it’s doing it.”

Kalen considered all of this, following Lutcha’s theory to its logical conclusion. “So if I attract the sylph’s attention again, and it tries to pull on my soul, I’ll probably just end up back here?”

Lutcha arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh. You’re that kind of kitten. I should have realized, but I didn’t put it together.”

“What do you mean?”

She held the glowing Disc out toward him and smiled. “You're the one curiosity kills.”