The sight of my current personal project makes me pause as I reach my no-longer-so-clear clearing, but I can handle that after I take care of this.

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!”

  …Okay, maybe it’s not that bad. I’ve pretty much known for a while that my ‘body’ isn’t really my body. Of course, I hadn’t been thinking that it isn’t real at all.

  Not my ‘body,’ I mean. My real body.

  This is confusing.

  I move, and suddenly I’m nowhere, looking down at what I can see of myself. This… This whatever, this place that isn’t, is somehow where I am. All the time. But it’s also not, for the sheer fact that none of this is real in the way reality is.

  What. In the fuck. Am I?

  I’m real, I know that, I can feel it. Genuinely. It’s the same low-level instinctive feeling that lets me know that the world around me right now isn’t real. Which goes against the fact that I’m here at all! Let alone that I’m always here and that my ‘body’ is just me using ghost powers.

  …That’s actually a bit comforting, in a backwards way. Here, where nothing is real, I’m far more real than my physical body is over in reality. Not just in comparison, but factually.

  I haven’t wanted to think about it at all—and I’m good at that—but… There is a simple answer; I’m a ghost after all. This is my soul, isn’t it? Which is its own terrifying can of worms, since, you know, why would I be shaped like this? Not to mention that might mean I’m seeing other people’s souls. And eating things they cast off, although that’s still infinitely better than eating them.

  Assuming I’m right, of course. Who knows what’s really going on here. I may even just be letting my preconceptions lead me to incorrect assumptions again. Maybe I’m seeing souls, maybe reality is just a lot more complicated than I ever thought.

  Still, note to self, take Oak’s advice and do not let anyone touch my orbs. Ever.

  Oh, look, something else to focus on. My orbs. They exist here in the same way the rest of me does. I hadn’t thought there was anything special about them, and there’s nothing that would make anyone think so. I assume. Being a floating mass of real is weird.

  I poke one of my orbs. It feels dense, somehow, and my arm feels almost fuzzy against it, but normal otherwise. The same ____ as always. Not that I have much else to compare with here other than color, since trying to touch one of my limbs with another just makes them… merge…

  That– That’s something to think about. I reach out to touch an orb again, this time trying to move it. It does, easily. So, the opposite of earlier. Okay. I’m the center-point of my movements here, unlike reality.

  I look down, twisting one of my left limbs to touch the frills hanging below me. It merges. Yep, okay, orbs are officially the strange part now.

  It all is, honestly, and it’s not all bad. Some of it is actually really nice.

  …

  Gods, being able to think so clearly is awful sometimes. And I’d prefer to continue not inspecting that thought too closely either.

  I seem to be developing a new habit. Possibly out of misplaced anxiety due to what it could say about me, but probably more due to just not wanting to wallow in depressed thoughts.

  Unfortunately for me, I’ve actively acknowledged how much more I like being myself now, so I can’t exactly forget about it. And of course, thinking about how much I hated myself isn’t exactly productive or enjoyable.

  Not that I can keep on acting like everything that I’ve learned about myself since dying can be put down to my new existence. Really, it’s just the clarity of thought and new set of instincts that put things in perspective. Which…

  Um, well. It’s still the same as it has been. What else can I do but say ‘neat, I wish I knew that sooner,’ and carry on my ceaseless consciousness. I don’t exactly have anyone to blame but me and my formerly terrible brain.

  I mean, intellectually I’m fairly certain I’d be a lot more concerned about some things if I were still human, but… I’m not. That already resolves most of it. Although again, it really would have been nice to know sooner, might have made things less awful while I was still alive.

  I’m just frustrating myself now, so I let out another wordless scream, this time into the void.

  Mmm, I probably scared some people earlier. Shouldn’t be too bad, though.

  Deciding I’ve had enough of beating myself up for things I couldn’t control, I phase back into reality. I allow gravity to drag me down until I’m resting on the layer of grasses and wildflowers that are starting to overtake the ground. Comfy. It’s quiet, although some sounds are returning after I silenced everyone nearby.

  Peaceful, calm. I take a bit to just watch the sky and relax.

  …

  Time to try something new.

  So, it’s the same process as making a body. Hmm… Actually, this is far less tiring and… significantly faster and easier. In no time at all, I have… nothing. Except I know that isn’t right because I can feel something there. From two different senses.

  With a sigh, I phase out. Hmm, a pale ____ circle. It is a circle, right?

  I reorient myself around the circle and… Huh, it really is two-dimensional. Of course, that’s less important than the fact that it’s stable. The circle isn’t losing energy at anywhere near the same rate that just trying to shove power around does.

  Does it do anything?

  …

  No, I think it just exists. It’s just a little piece of my power that sits there and does nothing. What do I do with it, then? Take it back?

  Oh. Neat. I can do that, even if it feels weird. Now what, though? I’ve proven how much of an idiot I am, so I should be able to summon some kind of intelligence to figure out the next step.

  Mmm.

  Hmm.

  Any minute now.

  Huh.

  I can’t believe that worked. Or, sort of worked. I’d done something wrong when I made the circle, and I have the urge to try messing with the energy’s shape more. It was too flat. Too quiet?

  It was incomplete. So… start over… fill it out– not that way. Hmm. Oh! It’s too dense. Pull it into a shape, it doesn’t feel like it matters much which, add power and…

  It’s still incomplete? Maybe I need to be loading the power I use for it with something.

  I’m left staring at the sort-of-sphere-toroid-definitely-not-a-possible-shape thing for I literally can’t tell how long before I get the urge to scream at it. Not in a frustrated way, but still in a somewhat familiar one.

  Why not?

  I charge my voice before saying, “Please work.”

  The thing shreds itself.

  Of course it fucking did.

  ***

  And finally, things make a kind of sense. Simply put, I’m not supposed to use this power the same way as the others. Although even having thought that, it’s hard to tell if it should be obvious or not. There are clearly enough similarities between them that I can talk to others about powers and have everyone understand roughly what’s being said, but there are also enough differences that they start to add up.

  I think any pokemon would know what I meant if I started talking about compressing power or directing it, but we’d still be thinking different things. And I doubt the translation that happens helps at all.

  For instance, I don’t use psychic power the same way Espeon does, despite both of us being able to do so. And, although I’ve only seen one other pokemon—and a much older one at that—use ghost power, he was using it a lot like I’ve been doing. Which is the wrong way, as it happens. Or the simple way?

  The zoroark, Liam, had said it was the only technique he mastered, and it’s… really, really basic. To me, at least. It’s also extremely low-energy, even in such an inefficient form, but I’d bet that if I asked him about it, he’d say something flowery, and it would come down to him not having as easy a time with it as I do.

  And that’s the thing, right there. To use Espeon as an example again, he’s better with psychic power because he’s a real psychic. He has instincts and fundamental advantages, whether biologically or… possibly spiritually? Probably spiritually. I’m proof that souls exist.

  The point, however, is that I have similar advantages when it comes to ghost stuff. Which means I’m on my own when it comes to learning how to use it correctly. I’m almost certain that one of the problems I’ve been running into is that, unlike all but one person I’ve met, I’m not meant to use power physically. I can, but only the ones that are actually part of my body work well. And even those are helped along since my body is literally–

  …Moving on.

  And, well, ‘physically,’ ‘actually,’ ‘body.’ The applications of those words are a bit wobbly now. However, I still think Marshal will have advice next time I see her. If nothing else, I remember her calling me ‘one o’ the tricky ones.’ Which I think I figured out part of the meaning there. Guess what’s fun about not needing to be at the center of one’s own power use?

  I focus, pushing my power out as I speak without words to manifest a new, improved, and stable orb of destructive energy at the other end of my clearing.

  That.

  I immediately—and safely, since I can do that with this new method—reclaim the orb. Holy shit is that thing destructive now. Not that it wasn’t before, but… I give another slightly guilty glance at the brand-new crater.

  Not that such destruction is all that uncommon around the forest. Even if it’s not usually this big either. I think I’m solidly into ‘real threat’ territory, even if I’m sort of made of paper.

  …I’m increasingly happy that I’m not really part of the main food chain, just a scavenger. I might be willing to admit that I had fun when Marshal decided she wanted to see how capable I was, but fighting for survival is something I’m glad I don’t need to do.

  I’ve seen only a bit of how that all works for other pokemon, but it’s enough to work out the sometimes cold logic behind it. Although I suppose that’s why most people are relatively friendly to me. I’m barely part of that mess, and antagonizing me doesn’t help anyone. At least everyone I know is either on top of the whole thing or safe from it.

  Herbivores don’t kill grass-types, funnily enough. I’ve seen a few token exchanges, but I think that was mostly the plant making sure the other party didn’t get any ideas.

  Mmm, I’m drifting again. I should probably refocus. At least it relaxed me.

  And my experiments tonight might have brought me to a revelation I should have had a while ago. Did have a while ago. Although Weaver’s fairy tale about witches being an obvious story about my species really should have clued me in sooner.

  I’m such an idiot. I keep telling myself that it’s a thing, after all.

  Magic. I’m doing magic. Literally creating spells using power I don’t understand. I’m also kind of crap at it, but I suspect I’m lacking things that a mismagius has.

  Which is annoying. I find out I, myself, can do literal magic, and I’m stuck with only a few of the things I need and no idea how to get the rest.

  I really need to ask Weaver or Marshal about evolution at some point.

  But yeah, knowing I’m a… Wizard or witch? Hmm. Honestly, I probably couldn’t get away with wizard at this point. Eh, whatever. Knowing I’m possibly a witch and not being able to actually do any magic hurts more than I expected.

  That’s not entirely right, I suppose. After all, I’ve been doing ‘magic’ since I died, it’s just that what I can do with constructing… I don’t have a name for them. Spell-balls? Those, whatever. What I can do with them is a lot more magic than just using the stuff. Or it feels that way, especially since I have to incant to do it right.

  Incant is a funny word, but it’s the only one that feels right. Actual words make it fail instantly.

  Still, I have a new way to control stuff. I think. Yay. But I don’t have enough power, or maybe the mental capacity, to do much of anything useful yet. Which is annoying since I was kind of hoping for… Well, more.

  Then again, power effects that I can create and put somewhere while charging as needed will be genuinely useful. Because, you know, magic has benefits like that, even if I can’t do it yet. Though not for lack of trying.

  I’m entirely certain this is the big thing I’ve been missing about how I can use ghost energy, and even possibly every other power I have. But it also turns out my instincts have jack-all to say about making functional spell-orb-things, just the absolute basics about how to keep them from immediately falling apart. Which is really weird considering how I managed to put myself–

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  …

  …Fine. I can’t keep ignoring it. How does my body work, given what I’ve learned? To start with It’s not quite the same as one of my new spell-things. There are similarities, obviously, like the power used, the fundamental way I put them together, and the fact that neither becomes real until I finish. Even the way it feels on my senses during the process is similar. But the differences are too large to ignore, such as needing to vocalize or the sheer amount of energy my ‘body’ took to make.

  Hmm.

  Obvious answer, speaking seems to carry some aspect of power or intent needed to finalize or perhaps activate the spell-thing. That wouldn’t be needed when I’m possessing the spell. I’ll just call them what they are, spells. And I’m possessing a particular spell that is, frankly, at least an order of magnitude more complex than what I’ve just learned to do. Sure, it took a lot more time and energy, a truly absurd amount more, but I really did do the whole thing by feel. Almost subconsciously.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised? That seems like a rather survival-relevant skill, the kind of thing where if a member of the species can’t just do it, then they aren’t likely to live very long. Even if I don’t know how ‘alive’ I can say I am.

  It’s not like I was all that hurt when Marshal tore me apart, after all. But on the other hand, I was kind of helpless the whole time I was putting a body together. I wonder why? Does it have something to do with how I was in two pieces at the time?

  I think I might know how to dispel my body now, as well. I’ve got a feel for the general process after figuring the less complicated parts out. I probably shouldn’t, though…

  You know what? On that thought—since I’m genuinely considering doing that and really shouldn’t—I‘ve been thinking about all this way too much tonight. Maybe I should just start working on my house again? Not sure what else I can do at the moment.

  Keep practicing, I guess.

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  Misdreavus isn’t restraining themself at the moment. That’s probably a good thing.

  Normally, they’re extremely quiet, likely due to not wanting to hurt anyone, but that can’t be good for them in the long term. I could already hear them from a little under a kilometer out, and they’re only getting louder.

  Weaver hasn’t seemed that concerned. And, perhaps more tellingly, Espeon hasn’t been worried about whatever is frustrating the ghost-type. So, whatever it is probably isn’t something I should worry about either.

  I’ve got a decent idea what Misdreavus is doing. Sound is plainly a key part of their abilities, so they’re pushing their limits. Something I imagine they’ve done regularly. It’s a bit unfortunate that some species… can’t exactly do that in civilization.

  Well, not without us getting calls about it. The ones who are impolite enough to keep that kind of thing up usually make enemies fast, and either learn fast or don’t tend to be around long.

  Misdreavus would definitely fall into the ‘learn fast’ side of that. Which is good, since they would probably scare a lot of people at night. They already have, in fact, although not from doing anything in particular, some people are just frightened of them. Less now, since the Vien Tribune ran its standard article about new ranger partners last week, but we would absolutely get complaints and pointed questions if Misdreavus made these kinds of sounds near town.

  Another low harmony begins, breaks, and descends into frustrated growling.

  I have to wonder what exactly Misdreavus is trying to do. It doesn’t sound like they’re trying to increase their volume, not that they’re lacking in that regard, and the sounds aren’t harsh enough to be offensive.

  It could also be a form of assertion… That’s not a terrible theory, especially with a sonic-focused pokemon.

  It’s usually a toss-up if any pokemon keeps trying to maintain territory when they become partners, but the old cabin is close enough that it isn’t much of an issue for the ghost. And so I assume they, and every other pokemon around, still consider it Misdreavus’.

  Again, Misdreavus repeats the same pattern.

  It could be they simply want more finesse. That would explain why I keep hearing nearly the same thing every time.

  Doubt.

  You don’t think that’s what they’re doing?

  Uncertainty.

  I glance down at Espeon, then over at Weaver. Both of them have their heads cocked as Misdreavus makes noise again.

  Inanity. Confusion.

  That doesn’t really tell me anything. Does he mean there isn’t a reason for what Misdreavus is doing? I imagine we’ll see soon enough, and Espeon can ask–

  “Eaveaveaveaveaveaveaveaveaveaveaveave…”

  That– Misdreavus has started laughing. No, Cackling. I’ve heard them do both before, but not like this. It’s not a comforting sound, even compared to their normal hair-raising tones, which is made significantly worse by how it seems to come from everywhere.

  And the fact that they haven’t reduced their volume.

  My experiences with Misdreavus continue to inform me why ghost-types somehow have their reputation, despite barely existing in a practical sense.

  I keep hiking, not deterred by the frankly spine-chilling sound. After a minute without any more cries, I realize the ghost has finally gone silent. I look over to see what Weaver’s reaction is, but she seems to have vanished. I’m guessing she ran ahead.

  Affirmation.

  I’m brought up a little short as we run into the edge of a hazy cloud. Misdreavus seems to have their miasma fully spread out. That makes sense, thinking about it. I’m not sure how exactly they use it to capture or consume emotions, but the density of people is much lower out here than in the city.

  I’ve only seen it pushed this far out two… three times. They don’t do it often. Something to be watching out for? I’m hoping the ghost will actually be willing to bring things like that up now, but it’s hard to tell.

  Maybe they’re just that self-sufficient? Hmm, I’ll need to make sure I get a copy of whatever notes Rowan made during his earlier examination of Misdreavus. They may end up just adding more questions as to how I can care for them, but they might help, too.

  Regardless of that, I give Espeon a look as I step into the light fog. Or at least it seemed light. It’s dark enough tonight that the fogginess is making it a bit hard to see.

  I hear a sudden, sharp thudding noise, reminiscent of a slashing attack’s strike, plainly coming from Misdreavus’ clearing. Soon enough, it happens again, then more as we finally reach the ghost’s territory.

  It’s rather bright here, even through the miasmic haze, and the reason is obvious. Misdreavus’ semicircle of gems are glowing, more powerfully even than during the Nabiki incident. That feels like it’s worth noting.

  Also of note is that Leaf—or Leafy Boy, thanks to Maya’s terrible naming sense—is present, sitting a bit closer to the ghost than they normally let people get. I suppose even with having been turned down, he still likes being near Misdreavus. And helping them, I assume.

  There’s a cut tree, cleanly separated into thick planes. The obvious culprit being the leafeon’s signature bladed tail, the sides of which have been regrown into smooth, curved edges at the moment.

  Weaver appears to be absent, though. I wonder where she is?

  Misdreavus looks up at me from where they’re arranging the cut pieces of wood onto debris from the cabin they seem to have moved for the express purpose of keeping other things off the ground. They then glance down at Espeon before returning their gaze to me. “Misser?”

  “I hope we didn’t interrupt something,” I say, watching Espeon move closer to the floating pokemon. “I just wanted to see how you were doing after your physical earlier. I was told it didn’t end well?”

  The ghost shrugs, also watching Espeon as the fog rapidly recedes. Mmm. “How was Bernard? I hope he wasn’t the source of any issues you had.”

  Misdreavus shrugs again before shaking their head dismissively, “Dreave.”

  That’s a good answer, I think, although extremely curt. “…You needed to get away from everything afterward?” I ask, if only to try keeping them communicating. I feel like we’ve made progress today.

  My question seems to bring the ghost up short, as they freeze, although only for an instant. “Mis…” They say, uncertainly, making circular motions with a few limbs before poking them at their gems. “Dreave misdreavus mis.”

  So, I think that means, “You… learned something during that examination?”

  Affirmation.

  I was rather hoping to get confirmation from Misdreavus. And I do, the ghost bobbing once before swiping an arm against one of the glowing gemstones. Against my expectations for that act, it’s not the gem that starts moving. Instead, Misdreavus’ main body is now spinning at an angle.

  “Something to do with your flight, then,” I observe, the ghost halting instantly.

  “Vuuusss…?” They say, inconclusively.

  “Does that have anything to do with all the sounds you were making?” I ask, watching Leaf as I move closer. The eeveelution doesn’t object, although his focus is mostly on Espeon.

  “Misser vus,” The ghost says, rotating.

  I don’t know what I was expecting. Or what to really talk about now, as I haven’t interacted with the ghost-type much outside of work. …I suppose that sums up many of the issues I’ve had with them.

  That’s why I decided to come out here tonight, though.

  I go back to looking at what Misdreavus and Leaf seem to have been doing. Cutting wood, creating materials. Building structures isn’t all that unusual for some pokemon, although those that do tend to be the more humanoid or dexterous ones. They also tend to use simple materials or those they can shape with their abilities, carving things from stone, ice, or still living flora.

  Making lumber isn’t normal. I imagine Misdreavus wants to restore their den, though, and they’re certainly intelligent enough to look at something like a cabin and figure out the process from there. Everything in this area is effectively theirs to do what they want with, after all.

  It’s something to try making conversation about. “You’re trying to fix the cabin?” I ask, glancing at the ruined structure before looking back at Misdreavus.

  The ghost blinks, clearly having been focused somewhere else. They look over at the collapsed cabin before rotating in the negative.

  If they aren’t trying to fix it, “You want to build a new one?”

  The floating pokemon bobs slowly, eyes beginning to flick over everything in a pattern I recognize. They’re calming themself down. I’m not sure how tracking so much helps them do that, but it’s easy to see once you know what to look for.

  Maybe it has to do with their memory? I still can’t imagine what that must be like.

  But back to the matter at hand, Misdreavus wants to make a new cabin. I’m certain they can do quite a bit on their own through observation and replication, but this feels like an opportunity. “I can help if you need anything specific. Just let me know.” It isn’t as though I have much else to spend my paycheck on right now.

  The glowing ghost stops, not moving for a second before closing their eyes as they wrap several limbs around their face, sighing. “MmmiiiiIIIIIII–” They cut off right as they start getting too loud, vanishing from sight.

  It is at that exact moment that Weaver decides to snicker from where she’s been hiding, just off the clearing to my right. Hmm, Misdreavus does seem to lean on her a lot when we’re both nearby. I assume she wanted to prevent that.

  Or she thought it would be funny. And she is laughing.

  “So,” I say, pulling out my flashlight as I turn to face my oldest friend. Only to turn around again as the glow from Misdreavus returns.

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  Okay, now that that’s taken care of. “Yeah, that would be nice,” I sigh, nodding, “There’s a lot I could use, actually.” Nails, metal caps and strips, brackets, bricks, something to measure with, something to sand with, brushes, stain, paint, possibly insulation, a stove, piping, cut glass, tiles, underlay for said tiles, mortar…

  I glance at Leaf.

  A real set of cutting tools so that I don’t need to bother him with this. Not that he is bothered, and he even offered to sand when I mentioned that step, since he can apparently become a sandblaster if needed. I suppose it’s nice knowing he likes being near me enough to put up with all that. Also still a little weird, but that’s all to do with me probably having prejudices and preconceptions I need to work through.

  I’m glad he took the fact that I turned him down well. Although that mostly had to do with my explaining that I need to figure myself out first, instead of just saying no.

  I’d rather not start thinking about that again tonight.

  Uncertainty, friendly affection, and a half-formed emotion that’s a bit like… Something Espeon probably can’t feel himself yet, huh.

  “Anything I can help with tonight?” Onaga asks. I’m pretty sure she’s hoping I don’t, though.

  I just shrug. I’ve already done more tonight than I thought I would, and I… don’t think it’s that late?

  And yes, Espeon, things are a bit weird between Leaf and me. Although you probably shouldn’t be trying to copy some of the things he feels about me. Now he’s lightly confused. It’s because I’m pretty sure you’re too young to be able to actually feel that kind of attraction.

  “That’s just as well,” Onaga responds to my shrugging. “Would you mind if I just relax here for a bit? I’ll probably go see if Marshal’s around too.”

  And instant fear from Espeon, enough that Onaga noticed, even. I’m in a good headspace for this, at least.

  “What’s wrong?” Onaga asks, switching from relaxed to serious in an instant.

  Ready, release, and… Calm down, Espeon. Marshal isn’t here, or even nearby. I’m about ninety-nine percent certain my sight in unreality extends farther than however his third-eye works, and there wasn’t any of Marshal's ____ glow while I was screaming.

  “He’s afraid of Marshal,” I inform Onaga, gesturing with two arms between Espeon and the path to the lake.

  “Well, yeah, he’s young, battle-trained, and has a functioning brain,” Weaver’s voice says, prompting me to swivel a bit to see her melting out of the trees. “I also happen to remember how a certain smokey ghost reacted a few weeks ago.”

  “They were inexperienced and still had to figure a few things out,” I defend said ghost.

  “‘Were’?” Weaver chuckles.

  “What do you mean by how they reacted?” Leaf asks.

  Weaver’s face lights up, “Oh! Let’s see…” But she stops, glancing between Leaf and me. “…It’s kinda exactly what they said,” She shrugs, pointing at me, “Charlie still had to figure a few things out. In their head.”

  That’s not what I was expecting her to do.

  “I guess I won’t try to visit her, then,” Onaga cuts in, not having taken her eyes off Espeon as they communicated. “So, again, do you mind if I relax here for a bit?” She asks me. “And… Could you possibly teach Espeon to calm himself that way?”

  I shrug before exaggerating a thoughtful look. Her being here doesn’t affect me much, and Weaver’s nice to have around. As for teaching Espeon how to do this… I’ve tried teaching him, and he hasn't seemed to get it. I was probably looking at it all wrong, though.

  For starters, I need to be calm before I can do this, and even when the pink cat is calm—as an example, right now, with me radiating it—he’s not calm. We also, as I’ve demonstrated to myself tonight, use power very differently.

  He’s fundamentally a better psychic than me… So he should be able to do this more easily. Shouldn’t he?

  I’m missing something, but what?

  …He can control his emotions? Well, yes, but no. He can single out things he’s feeling and manipulate himself that way to a degree, and even create emotions, but he can’t simply remove them without either Onaga or myself.

  Well, he kind of can, but not in a healthy or permanent way.

  Hmm, maybe I’m thinking about it backward? I’m the one doing it ‘wrong,’ after all. So then what can he–

  Oh! Oh, I get it.

  “–a bit longer. Or not,” Weaver says, having at some point moved to the other side of me. “What had you thinking so hard?”

  Given the taste of intrigue, I have a feeling somebody already has an idea.

  “I was trying to figure out where the disconnect in teaching Espeon… I guess I should just call it calm mind, but I know where I was going wrong,” I say, sweeping my eyes down to where Espeon had moved while I was occupied.

  “Is it particularly hard?” Leaf asks from where he’s still sitting.

  “Not for me,” I say. “And that’s part of the problem. I think I was kind of primed for it by–” I glance down at Espeon, “–Marshal.” The cat doesn’t visibly react, although even through my calming effect, I can taste his discomfort. “And another problem is that for me, it’s all subconscious. Automatic. If I’m calm, I just let my psychic energy flow the way it wants, and it works.”

  “With you so far,” Weaver says, nodding. “Sounds almost exactly like how you were trying to teach it to Espeon.”

  “Espeon is a real psychic, though,” I continue. “I think my state of mind is unconsciously influencing the energy in a way he’ll have to consciously do.”

  And Espeon has a question about that? Calm, uncertainty, panic, and the question itself.

  “I mean that you’ll need to create calm emotions to begin the process, yes,” I answer, earning the taste of dread. “But, if I’m right, that means you’ll be able to do it even when you aren’t already calm.” Although that also raises the question, “Can you create calm?”

  Hmm, he’s uncertain. Also, thoughtful, so maybe I at least pointed him in the right direction.

  “Hold on, you said you’d been trying to figure out how something worked when I visited,” Leaf says, realizing something. “Was it– It wasn’t this, you were doing a lot of spooky stuff… It couldn’t have been your own type’s power, right?”

  “I mean, yeah,” I tell him. “I don’t have any examples of how I should use it. What I’d been doing worked, but it was… inefficient, I’d hit a wall with it. And now that I‘ve figured the basics out, it feels like I’ll need to wait until I evolve to go any further,” I explain. Oh, hey, Weaver’s here right now.

  “Wait, but… All those orbs and blasts flying out over the forest. Saving us from those poachers without even exerting yourself. Shaking half the forest. You did all that without even using your type’s energy? Or correctly? And until you evolve?!” Leaf asks, astounded. And a certain taste is getting stronger again.

  “Maybe?” I admit. “Again, I don’t really have anything solid to go on, just trying to feel my way through. Speaking of evolution, though,” I turn to Weaver, who is giving me a side eye, “How does that work? I’ve been meaning to ask, but things kept happening today.”

  Discord.