IC Date: 08/13/2025

Having spent more time than she should have enjoying the park’s quiet beauty, Tempesti had made certain that she made the rest of her trip to the palace complex with as few distractions as possible, though she made certain to activate the Atlas Orb before setting off once more, the little golden device circling her as she rode past ancient boat docks rising from the flow of the canals, gold and blue flecked mosaics at crumbling doors. Almadel said that its age gave it a short battery life, so she needed to make it count; only use it in areas she hadn’t already mapped. Between its efforts and her GoPro she should be able to determine new areas to explore and mark off places she saw new growth, new progress. New places that might have interesting things for her new alien acquaintance. She would undoubtedly enjoy giving someone else a tour of the place, given the opportunity (Even if the housekeeping left something to be desired). If he could find something that would be useful for his collection, so much the better. It would be nice to ensure that Tempesti found representation on another world, even if she had no idea which among countless worlds was his. He didn’t seem to be a senshi or anything else she recognized, but he clearly had knowledge beyond what she could grasp.

The Atlas Orb returned easily to her hand when she called it, quickly powering it down and returning it to her subspace as she crossed the palace’s familiar threshold. She wasn’t sure how much of the entryway’s rubble had actually made itself scarce since her last visit. It would be nice to say that she could see a huge, readily visible difference but she wasn’t a very good liar. Even to herself. Still, the planet itself was more important than any collection of stone and glass that once housed the very worst Tempesti had to offer and it seemed as though the planet was more determined to recover than this seat of tyrants.

She felt her nostrils flare slightly at a memory of a memory. The cruelty and foolishness that drove Elysia mad. But she was dead. They were all dead and with the exception of Elysia’s occasional intrusions, there was nothing they could do to push the repetition of history. Rowan wasn’t the same brainwashed girl terrified of her own power. Letting herself be defined by a dead woman who happened to share her starseed centuries earlier. It seemed an easy trap to fall into, one hopelessly tangled with philosophical and spiritual debates that she lacked the time or disposition to allow to consume her. Maybe another time, another day, she might possibly have a shade of inclination to sit by and stare into the cosmic void while contemplating the nature of soul and self, but for the moment she had concerns far more immediate and tangible. With results infinitely more beneficial than any number of hours she might spend navel gazing if she let those notions sink their roots too deeply.

Walking the route to the Primordial Tower had become a matter of pure muscle memory, as had the activation of the no longer stubborn door, an illusory funnel cloud now whirling about beside the harpy’s right wing.

Just one more. One more until she could find the Wellspring.