Traveling alone for the first time in so long, my energy reaches out from my willowly cloak, and I disappear. A miniscule black dot, perhaps a fly, wandering the endless aisles of thick, bloody stews. It’s so much easier using the cloak now that my higher tier songs can control nearly all traces of my presence. It occurs to me that mixing and matching may even be possible. That is, swallowing some trace into the cloak while emitting others as I did with Ha’koff’s cover. A far greater trick, that’d be. The very simple disguise song only fades or blurs my appearance into the background by haphazardly throwing extra energy around every which way. A more complex orchestra would be so much better. For another time. Simply being an insignificant, little fly innocently inspecting all these stews is more than enough for now.

  Working up the courage to finally climb up and actually look inside of one of the pots, I see nothing but the awful, molten solution sloppily bubbling away, constantly spilling over the edge. I don’t dare reach inside to check. If only I had my spear.

  That quest panel said that I must find a pure essence for the nose before leaving this place becomes possible. Are they inside these pots? There’s really nowhere else in this place for them to hide. How am I supposed to get at them? Maybe my probes can find them in there, but it’s incredibly unlikely that I can touch or move them with my energy given my experiences thus far. After all, stable energy outside my body can usually only interact with other energy.

  A small noise in the distance stirs me back to attention. Creeping over towards it, I’m struck with a new smell. No, no, a deeply stark and unbelievable stink. A stink so strong that even I’m almost overwhelmed. Oh, ugh! Is this why the big ones react that way every time they see me? No wonder, no wonder.

  The stink reeks of the weight of blood, concentrated almost completely beyond recognition. It somehow smells incredibly old, probably soaked in the stuff for countless ages. What in the world is it coming from?

  Peeking around the last pot between me and the obvious source, I spy a large, sweaty, ripply, piggish thing sitting in a pile of himself inside a sizable clearing between the pots. Is he the stomach? I wish appraisals worked on these creatures, but the ladder seems to reject them.

  For a moment, I consider stepping out to greet him. After all, I’ve made it a habit with all the other aspects and survived. Albeit, barely with the nose, and the head was also unpleasant. However, I remember the ears’ words. He advised me against visiting the stomach. Obviously, it’s incredibly disgusting and uncomfortable here, but is there something more that I’m missing? Perhaps it’s not safe to speak with the stomach as I am. Although, if I’m someone else? Maybe if I’m someone that he already knows.

  Fully hiding back behind the pot, I flex my energy inside the cloak. Swallow everything that’s mine, and then farther out where the cloak can’t capture it, spin a new tale. I’m small, I’m hairy, I’m… No wait, should I recreate the version of him from the delusion or after? There’s no white flowers here, so let me stay anchored in reality. I’m small, I’m patchy with hair, I’m covered in blisters and sores, I have a little tail. I’ll wear his same, anxious smile. I’ll smell of the blood, but only slightly. The barest hint, compared to this freak. This is it. It doesn’t have to be perfect, since I don’t dare get close. It’ll be enough.

  With all this practice, I’m also able to project a tiny, weak falsetto using the oscillation control song. It’s certainly not a perfect match, however the ears is perhaps the ideal subject for this ruse. He’s so quiet, squeaky, and erratic in his natural state, after all. Minor mistakes will only sell the expected image better.

  Peeking out behind the pot once more, I bravely initiate the act.

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  “Ahem. Stomach. I am the ears. Here once more to visit. How do you do?” I shyly oscillate the air just beyond the cloak’s voracious boundary.

  Yes! It’s working. I’m speaking freely! The false image of lips moves roughly in sync with the carefully vibrating air. Sure, it’s very blocky, jumpy, and slightly delayed. More practice is definitely necessary, but this should be more than enough in this ugly, oppressive place. Of course it’s enough.

  “Ears?!” the piggish creature exclaims in surprise at the sight of me. “Why, last I heard you were in isolation.”

  “I got better,” I sheepishly vibrate, shrinking back behind the pot slightly.

  That one was more than a little off. Need to be careful. Need to get better fast. What am I even supposed to say? Should’ve thought this through more before I started! I need information about the essences, but at all costs, I also can’t break character.

  “Oh, great Will, better times be ahead! Toldya you’d get used to all this. I mean, lookit me. Learned to love the color and smell. Bathe in it every day, I do. What brings you here on this fine occasion?”

  “I…,” I start to emit, but then the song falls apart.

  I’m losing control. Realizing that my eyes never needed to remain open for the illusion to be convincing, I allow them to close in deepening concentration. The false image remains politely making eye contact with the horrid beast. What’s going wrong? Relax and release more energy to monitor the situation around the cloak.

  Ok, ok, it’s still working, but the humidity and air density has fluctuated. The temperature too? I need to constantly adjust the oscillations in response to keep everything consistent. If not, then the character will break and he’ll notice. It’ll all be over.

  “Sorry, I’ve been ill,” I sullenly fluctuate the air to explain my hesitation while also buying myself time to better calibrate.

  “Song Oscillation control has acquired 1 level.”

  “You?” the piggish creatures incredulously replies. “Wouldn’t have thought it possible. Your chipper attitude and unceasing support easily burns away the doldrums amongst the worst of us, no matter what we’ve done. I’d assume that magic’d work on any ill spirits too.“

  “Yes,” I politely and carefully quiver in his direction. “I agree.”

  Carefully simulating a cough with both the noise and awkward movement of my false, little arm to cover my mouth, I convincingly sell the act even more.

  “I’m here for an essence. It must be pure. The… highest grade!” I quaveringly emit, barely keeping the whole thing afloat to the end.

  “An essence? What in the world you need one o’ them for?” he quizzically replies, tightly twisting up his face in confusion.

  Thinking fast, I decide to retain at least some of the truth. After all, the truth is often a far easier lie to pull off.

  “Nose wants it.”

  “The nose…? Why, those rude buffoons. They didn’t even explain why, did they? Mayhaps don’t even know themselves. Always pretending and playing at games rather than sticking to their sacred duties.”

  “Yes. They are… frustrating,” the rapidly sputtering air only just barely expresses.

  So close. Don’t fall apart, don’t fall apart. Almost there, and then after that we can relax.

  “Ah, well. Go ahead, take your pick. I won’t stop you.”

  What? No! I need to know more than that. Where and how? Give me the details, you cretin!

  “Any… of them?”

  “Naturally! Well, only the fully baked ones, please. Need the ladder fully sloughed off ‘em and deposited into the pot first. Don’t wanna get blamed again after that last anomaly. That was definitely not my fault! Can’t believe all those damned dastardly dogooders baselessly accusing me of dereliction of duty.”