Wayfaring Strangers

We’ve wandered six months through these shattered realms.
 
The grinning creature, Zadrin, left us with three parting gifts:
 
The first was a scrying stone, an exquisite gem which seems to hoard light instead of reflecting it. Through it, I can see the tears in the fabric of this strange place.
 
The second gift was a strange totem which the mechanical being carries. It’s a bizarre thing, carved in wood with the sigil of a bleeding eye. I’ve never quite trusted wood as a building material. It’s too prone to change—leave it long enough, and it will grow, sprout leaves, or rot. I’ve learned especially to not trust anything with such strange insignias as that.
 
The third gift was Krisa’s life, as it restored her mind to her body with another snap of its fingers. I’ve yet to see her magical abilities in action. I hope that the mage will pull her weight, as mages are wont to not.
 
Each step we take here is a gamble, where stepping haphazardly into a rift will throw us many miles from where we were, into a jungle, tundra, desert, or some other inhospitable place. Our destination is a floating isle pierced by a heavenly beam of light, positioned amongst scattered rocks floating through the strange twilight sky. Darkness creeps from the corners of this light, a corona of jagged shadow about a bolt of lightning suspended in the aether.
 
Despite the perilous nature of our journey, we haven’t much time to choose our steps with care: about three months back, Krisa noticed the tips of her fingers flickering in and out of existence like candles in the wind. Gradually, more of her has started fading, and the automaton and I have begun to accompany her. I won’t fade to nothing in this liminal hinterland—not when I have a clear path to walk for the first time in ages. Still, I wonder what our gift-giver stands to gain from our reaching this point of convergence in the sky; he wouldn’t have offered us this opportunity if he didn’t stand to gain anything from it.
 
My companions… aren’t as lively as Toomi, for better and for worse.
 
The automaton, who I have learned calls itself Caesar, is the stoic, silent sort, the type I am accustomed to working with. It has yet to reveal the origins of its manufacture—I can’t be certain it knows itself. Its memories are sparse, practically nonexistent past that day I shot it. It will occasionally mutter to itself about the sea, though, turning the totem about in its hands. I can’t help but marvel at what a triumph of engineering it is: a fully-functioning, self-powered automaton with individual sentience and a level of intellect on par with most modern folk. We’ve managed to keep in one piece thus far, so no convenient excuse has arisen for me to examine its interior workings, but the intuition my pact affords me seems to indicate that it’s no mere man in a suit of armor. Its construction is resilient enough for it to continue functioning after suffering direct ballistic trauma to its center of mass, and it has demonstrated a tireless ability to navigate the many extreme biomes we have traversed. I’m itching for the opportunity to get a closer examination.
 
As for Krisa… well, my enthusiasm to see her conscious again was somewhat stifled when I remembered she is a mage. One would assume this would make her privy to a host of useful tricks, but so far, they have not manifested in any way which has tipped the odds in our favor. Her analysis of our surroundings has been informative in an academic sense, but not in any way which has elucidated our circumstances. She was apparently part of whatever guerilla force Toomi associated with, but she lacks the endurance for long-distance travel in these myriad hostile environments. She proved herself trustworthy in the Shifting Sands, and her friendship with Toomi speaks well for her character, but I’ve little inclination to rely on a mage’s help, nor do I feel any keen affection for her. Perhaps time will change that, but I won’t count on it—especially if we don’t get out of here soon.
 
Our past few weeks have seen us trekking through a dense jungle. The air here is thick and humid, and I get the sensation of being watched by many eyes. Still, we had seen nothing of other living creatures—until today. Above us, a gargantuan serpentine thing soared, a thick, grey belly with four fins tapering to a wrinkled neck. From its body, long probing arms scoured the ground below. It was a monstrosity the likes of which I have never encountered in my life, and I have seen many grim sights. Krisa and I bolted for cover, but Caesar was caught in the open. When the thing fixed its deathly gaze on the automaton, it took a breath which seemed to swallow the very essence of the world around it. Caesar had no choice but to run, and when it did, without the guidance of the scrying stone I carry it ran right into a rift and was whisked away.
 
One of the many reasons I prefer to work alone. Not wanting to lose our most hardy fighter, I dove after him, with Krisa close behind. My dancing lights again proved a valuable diversion, and when the beast’s attention was captured, we fled after Caesar.
 
Falling through a rift may dump one onto coarse sand, rigid branches, churning water, even sharp volcanic rocks, but this time, we fell into drifts of snow—I was relived for the soft landing, but admittedly less so seeing we had fallen off-course due to a blunder and would now have to contend with the cold.
 
Krisa, in spite of her understanding of elemental wizardry, was of course shivering. I offered her my coat and hoped for a quick way out of this mess. My wishes may have been answered; in the distance, a small village pokes its roofs through the snow, a lonely light glowing in a single window.
 
If I’ve learned anything in my three-hundred-odd years, it’s to not trust such signs. But my companions insist on examining this place, seemingly assured that if there’s trouble, we will emerge on top of it. It could be worth it for the supplies, but any delay, any risk to life and limb, brings us closer still to the point of no return. If this is some trap… we may not live to regret it.
 
We’ll see how handy my traveling companions are in a fight.