The question nagged at Finn as he followed Uxio through the forest.
Was it some form of prophetic scrying? A result of the interplay between Osmund's space fragment and time itself? Or had the short man simply read the inevitability of Finn's situation and deduced the logical conclusion?
Regardless of what it was, Finn didn't like any of those answers.
He swatted at a bug as they walked deeper into the forest. They'd been walking for twenty minutes now, and the direction bothered him. He'd assumed they would head toward the Anaelle settlement on the other side of the southern end — the place where Uxio and Vrylla presumably lived along with the rest of their people.
Instead, they were going the opposite direction. Further away from civilization. Toward the extreme edge of the island.
The trees grew denser here and their canopy blocked out most of the afternoon sun, creating a perpetual twilight beneath the branches. Finn's enhanced Ferropteryx hearing picked up the distant sound of waves of the Stagnant Sea.
We're getting close to the shore. Finn thought, as Uxio abruptly stopped at what appeared to be a wall of vegetation then simply pushed through.
Finn followed and emerged into a clearing.
It was massive — easily two hundred meters across — surrounded by trees so perfectly positioned they had to have been deliberately cultivated to provide cover.
Despite the clearing's size, you wouldn't see it from above unless you were directly overhead. The canopy closed in just enough to obscure it from distant observation.
And beyond the trees, visible through carefully positioned gaps in the foliage, lay the shore. And beyond that, the time-frozen waves of the Stagnant Sea, stretching up to touch the sky.
This place wasn't far from the house on the hill where Finn had been staying, yet he'd never once spotted it during his two days of hunting and satisfying his Ferropteryx debts. The coverage was that complete.
On the far side of the clearing, tucked under a cluster of shorter trees that formed a natural veranda, sat Sage Osmund.
He was on the soft grass, reading a book — an actual paper book and not a soul-bound tome or artifact. He glanced up as Finn and Uxio approached, then carefully closed it and set it aside.
Uxio arrived in front of him with Finn in tow, then after delivering Finn, bowed respectfully and turned, disappearing back into the treeline without a word.
Now it was Finn and Osmund alone… and they simply stared at each other in silence.
Neither spoke. Neither moved. It was as if they were both waiting for the other to begin, neither wanting to be the one who broke first and ceded the conversational advantage.
On the last stretch of the trek here, Finn had recognized the truth of what was happening:
The negotiation had already begun.
Earlier, Osmund's casual mention through Uxio — "He says you might have something to say to him" — was a power play. An attempt to position himself as the one who knew, who had foreseen. That he held information Finn didn't.
So Finn simply stood there with a neutral expression and waited, unwilling to give Osmund that advantage.
The silence stretched till it became uncomfortable, and even till the point where it began to border on absurd.
Finally, Osmund broke the silence with a trace of amusement in his voice.
"Don't you have something to say to me?"
Finn didn't react to the bait. His response was casual and direct, stripping away all the performative bullshit:
"I do. I've decided to accept your offer. I'll enter a Soul Contract with you."
Osmund's pale gray eyes studied him for a long moment, and Finn could see the short man reassessing and recalibrating.
Then he smiled slightly and gestured to the space in front of him.
"Very well. Sit."
Finn sat cross-legged on the grass, maintaining eye contact.
"The process is straightforward," Osmund began. "You've purged soul masses before, yes? Converged your soul density to interact with their chaotic consciousness?"
Finn nodded.
"This is similar. Both Ossuarists must converge their souls by chanting their Soul Edict. When both our souls spread and overlap, we acknowledge each other. Like a soul handshake."
Osmund leaned forward slightly.
"From there, it becomes seamless communication of intentions. Pure understanding. We establish the desire to form a contract, then negotiate terms and conditions in that state. Everything about each clause will be inherently understood without ambiguity, without hidden meanings or any law tricks. It's the most honest form of contract that exists."
He paused.
"Both parties must agree to every clause. If there's disagreement, we negotiate, renegotiate and adjust until both our souls accept the terms. Only then does the contract bind."
Finn felt a spike of apprehension, but he didn't show it. He asked in a measured tone:
"During this... soul handshake. What can the other person perceive?"
Osmund's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Acknowledgement, maybe. Like an approval that Finn had asked the right question.
"Surface emotions," he said. "Whatever is most prominent in your mind at that moment. The soul naturally creates passive blocks against deeper probing once your Soul Register forms — those remain intact. But the handshake requires some connection, some acknowledgment of who you're contracting with. So yes, you'll feel echoes of my emotional state. And I'll feel yours."
Shit.
"But," Osmund continued, "those echoes fade once the handshake completes and the actual negotiation begins. After that, it's pure intention regarding the contract terms. Nothing else bleeds through."
Finn nodded calmly on the outside, though his mind was already racing. He'd have to be very careful during that initial connection. Very, very careful about what he allowed to be prominent in his thoughts.
"Let's begin," Osmund said.
They both stood, facing each other about six feet apart.
Finn took a slow breath and began his chant:
"Will."
His soul stirred immediately, responding to the foundational word. The acknowledgment of conscious choice, of directed intent.
"Soul Anchor."
His soul density began to converge, pulling inward from where it naturally dispersed throughout his body, concentrating…
And that was it.
His soul essence had fully converged and now spread outward in a sphere of influence around him, extending to the edge of his perception.
Three words. Just three words.
He'd expected to need at least five to seven words of his chant — Will, Soul Anchor, Focused Mind, Sense Phasma. But his soul had responded with just the first three. It seemed that he had improved from the last time he chanted his soul Edict. His soul had gotten stronger.
Across from him, Osmund's soul was also spreading, and Finn could feel the exact moment their soul densities overlapped.
The short man had also chanted only three words. Though based on his age, identity as a fragment bearer,and seeming experience, that much was expected.
At the edge of Finn's perception, he felt Osmund's soul reaching out. Requesting connection for the soul handshake.
Finn allowed it.
And immediately he did, he was flooded with a background noise of emotions from Osmund's soul:
Surprise was the most prominent. Surprise at Finn's chant being only three words, matching his own. Surprise at the strength of Finn's soul density,far higher than the short man had anticipated for someone so young.
Those emotions overshadowed everything else, but beneath them Finn could sense other things:
Suspicion. Apprehension. Fear… and even shame? Regret?
They were just in trace amounts, like periphery noise. But they were unmistakable.
As the emotions bombarded Finn, he became acutely conscious of what he might also be broadcasting.
Could Osmund sense his fear about his secrets being exposed? His apprehension? His extreme distrust of the man?
Don't think about the adaptations. Don't think about divine essence. Don't think about Garuda. Don't think about—
But by actively trying not to think about them, wasn't he essentially thinking about them? Drawing attention to the very things he wanted hidden?
.
.
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A/N: Don't forget to drop Power Stones and Golden Tickets! They help a lot.
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