Fenae (part 26): A Deep Sea Astronaut.

In the sleeping quarters of Rejtély, on the cold, misty floor among a mess of unmade beds, Franek and what seemed to be his mother sat by a flickering flame while they both caressed Beletos, who was sprawled on the floor awaiting belly rubs — almost like a house cat. She seemed to know all the right spots, as the backpack was purring louder than ever before.

Franek was caught in ambivalence, though. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her embrace and tell her everything that had happened all at once, but her presence here was very strange — suspicious, even. He knew Malal could plant illusions in his mind to manipulate him, and Malal wanted something from him. Something, that Franek was no closer to than when they previously met. But why would It bother pretending to be his mother? That did not seem like an effective way to get closer to discovering Lisovvy Masyv. It was also naively obvious to place his mother alone with someone at the door— and yet, it was not entirely out of character. His mother had a way of showing up at strange moments.

Franek frowned, watching the way the firelight flickered across her face. “You’re… here.”

Aynala chuckled. “Sharp as ever. Yes, I’m here.”

“But — how?” He hesitated, searching her expression for anything… off. “I-I’m very happy that you are,” he added quickly before Aynala could begin to pout, “but no one said anything about parents visiting.”

“Of course they didn’t.” She spread her hands, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “First-years aren’t supposed to know. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition?” he echoed, wary.

Aynala nodded. “Mmh. The tradition of the winter solstice. Parents come, surprise their kids. Just like your admission, really; part of the Rejtély philosophy is opening your mind to the unexpected.” She leaned close to him and whispered, “To make you feel like you never know what might happen in these walls.”

“A Show Of Pride”, capturing the annual tradition in which parents of the students rise in a standing ovation as their children enter the great hall. Following this grand welcome, families spend seven days together within the university. Oil on canvas, painted by P.W. Lamant (year 7 of the 5th era).

Something about the way she said that sounded ominous and made his stomach twist. Was that just her usual teasing, or something else?

He tried to keep his voice even. “So… you’ve been here this whole time?”

“You think I’d last twelve hours in the same building without tracking you down for a hug?” She smirked. “We arrived today — Grandma Meredith, your dad, and I. They’re wandering around somewhere. I was just here to scribble down some material estimations before sneaking off to find you.”

Her warm smile accompanying that last sentence was surely sincere, but Franek’s mind raced nonetheless. Grandma and Dad, too? Three lively illusions seemed like a stretch, especially those three individuals — but for a god?

Maybe if I got them all in the same room… Or would that actually make it easier? Would Malal cast an illusion over the entire room rather than conjure three people, or… am I the one who is enchanted? That would be much more efficient I guess… But would Malal really go that far so suddenly, and for an answer I don’t even have yet?

His brain toiled through hundreds of predictions and assumptions, but then halted abruptly, as if an emergency brake had been pulled. Coirym’s first book about Malal had warned him about this kind of skepticism and the rabbit holes it led to. How deep down am I?

Aynala sighed playfully, stretching her arms over her head in a relaxed attempt to measure the sanctity of Franek’s personal space. She joyously concluded that Franek did not flinch, although his physical stiffness made him a clear son of Mathias.

“Lucky thing we got here two weeks early,” she continued. “Imagine if I hadn’t been around to undo what has happened to half the beds in the dormitory.”

Franek stiffened. “I — ” He hesitated. “That… might have been me.”

Aynala laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, I know.” She gave him a pointed look. “And I’m the one fixing them before all the other parents find out their kids have been sleeping on the floor.”

Franek studied her — the ease in her posture, the way she teased him like she always had. It was all so natural. But Malal could make illusions that tickled all the human senses. Was that why she felt so real?

She nudged him lightly. “Come on, you’re making that face.”

He blinked. “W-what face?”

“The one where you start overthinking everything.” She ruffled his hair. “Relax, I’m not a ghost.”

Maybe not a ghost, but are you actually my mom? He was still unsure.

Franek frowned, unable to hide a resurfacing feeling of guilt.. “Why are you the one fixing them?”

Aynala gave him a knowing smile. “Your grandmother and I were reminiscing about our time here, and I happened to mention how nauseous those swinging beds used to make me. She laughed and reminded me that I hated them so much I actually broke mine in my second year.” She tilted her head, eyes glinting with amusement. “And then — I swear by the Fateweaver — barely two days later, Coirym calls to tell us you did the exact same thing, the exact same way. Only you managed it in barely half a year.”

She let out a delighted laugh. “We howled. I called those ridiculous suspensions of disbelief stupid, then Coirym asked if I had a better idea. And I said, ‘Yes, I actually had several.’ So now, as a reward for my brilliance, I have an extra two weeks to hug you every time I see you.”

Franek sighed, but didn’t pull away when she wrapped her arms around him. Her warmth was familiar, the scent of home lingering in her hair — but his mind wandered elsewhere.

Could Malal ever weaponize a hug? What would that even look like? A slow constriction, like vines tightening? An embrace that felt real but hollowed something out of you in return? And did she really just say she broke her bed the exact same way?

He cleared his throat. “You’re not angry at me?”

“Sweetie,” she murmured, stroking his hair, “Mathias and I almost had a wager going that you’d do something like this. If anything, it just confirms that you’re mine.”

Franek exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Even if the words came from either his mother or a god playing a cruel trick — especially since both would probably call him “theirs” — it still felt somewhat reassuring.

“So… are you putting them back up?” He tilted his head toward the endless ceiling, which he now knew was nothing but layers of enchanted curtains.

“Good heavens, no.” Aynala scoffed, waving the suggestion away. “Van Epschie personally asked me to do something different.”

Franek blinked. Van Epschie?

Hearing her use a nickname for the old, wrinkled headmaster, Van Epscharrem, was almost as jarring as the rest of this conversation. The man was not just “high up” in the school hierarchy — he felt diagonally distant, lurking somewhere at the periphery of student life. If Franek had not stopped time by the grace of a mostly forgotten god, he would have seen that bearded old man once at the year’s kickoff and never again.

His parents had drilled formality into him — Sir, Madam, at the very least a professional title. But he knew their own relationship with authority was looser than they let on. His father, Mathias, trusted people, not institutions. His mother was even more of a free spirit, treating rules as mere suggestions or advice. But calling the highest authority in the school “Van Epschie” right in front of him? That was new.

Was this a slip in the illusion? Or just… her?

Either way, one thing was certain — if the real Aynala had been given free rein to redesign the beds, animals were probably involved.

“So!” She sprang to her feet in one fluid motion. “Let’s give these beds some Vehrenvar flair, shall we?” She turned to him, eyes bright with mischief. “Tell me — what do you like about… sheep?”

Franek immediately perked up. The timing was oddly perfect, but these were questions he could answer, for a change.

“Oh! Oh! The noises they make.”

Aynala beamed. “Good one. What else?”

“They’re friend-shaped,” his words tumbled out as he got more excited. “And they look like they’d bounce if you dropped them.”

She burst out laughing, ruffling his hair. “Excellent. Now — what other animal would you like to have around?”

She pulled out a notebook with flowery patterns, the kind that made Franek’s breath catch. The cover was unmistakably adorned with his grandmother’s drawings.

“Badgers. No doubt.” He said it with certainty now, beginning to accept that it was actually his mother asking him. “Why are you asking me, though?”

Aynala grinned. “Because I have something very important to teach you, my little mage.” She tapped the notebook. “These recipes and rituals are like math — only fun if you know why you need them. You see, true joy isn’t found in following the ritual to make ‘just’ a walking bed — it’s in the silly things. Watching them chirp at each other, seeing them react to the colour of the blanket you give them, or walking past them curled up together in a pile like hamsters.”

Her fingers spread, almost reverent. “Those things make you want to bring a bed to life, don’t they?”

Franek nodded slowly, suspecting she was only getting started.

“And to do that, you need to know the ritual well enough to mess around with it.”

In a grand, sweeping motion, she turned toward the nearest bed frame, her smile flickering vividly as the firelight twisted across her expression.

“Let me show you what I mean.”

And then, with her hand flowing in a wide arc, everything slowed to a crawl.

Colour bled from the world, leaving behind stark, empty shades of grey. The warmth of the fire vanished. The air thinned, pressing against Franek’s lungs like the weight of something unseen.

He swallowed hard, eyes darting to his mother — if that was his mother.

Her figure stood locked in place, mid-gesture, caught at the peak of a flamboyant sprinkle of bearded iris petals. The petals, suspended in the air, hovered like dead things. Even Beletos, usually a jittery presence on his lap whenever time slowed down, was frozen next to him — silent, heavy, wrong.

So it was a trap, he thought.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he glanced toward the exit, already calculating his next move in case Malal revealed Itself.

And there, in the doorway, he saw something new.

A silhouette, vaguely human-shaped, with ragged, patched-up olive-green clothing. Countless trinkets and doodads hung from several belts and poured out of the many pockets that littered every inch of the figure.

A Renko? No, not quite. Something was… off. It was a subtle, uncanny dissonance — like a deep-sea astronaut. It looked almost recognizable, but somehow equally out of place.

Wide, bewildered eyes locked onto him, staring over the rubber edge of a gas mask lazily slung around its neck. That look — too focused, too intense. Like it had just noticed his existence.

Franek took a steadying breath, thankful for the certainty that everything was frozen like a charcoal vignette.

Then, defying all expectations, the colourless figure stepped into the room.