"Do you think Holt has such ideas?"
"I don't know. I'm not Holt."
"I don't think so. He lives life simply because that's the way the world is. Aren't we all supposed to live life? What a weird question that is, don't you think?"
Solomon looked at Nemo. His smile was almost imperceptible, but Nemo sensed it wasn't because he was displeased with the question.
"I suppose that's what makes us different from beasts."
"Ah, now there's a sign—you haven't traveled outside of Atlantis. Among the new beasts, some rival us in consciousness and self-doubt. And some things out there... might even seem almost human."
Nemo grew flustered.
"I guess it is a weird question then."
Solomon didn't change his expression.
"It is a weird question—but weird doesn't mean it shouldn't be asked. I'm still searching for the answer myself. For now, I've concluded that living is better than not living. And if you follow me, you might come to learn that truth as well."
Nemo was taken aback. He had expected scorn or ridicule, not understanding. He looked at Solomon.
"We all have to start somewhere. I started alone, plagued by self-doubt. It would've been easier to follow quietly, but I couldn't be sure if those above me had ever asked the same questions. Now I know they didn't. But I'm strong enough to ask them myself. So if you follow me, at least you'll know someone is asking the same things as you. And when I find the answer, I'll tell you."
Nemo gazed at the tall man. Something inside him responded to the sincerity in Solomon's words. From the way others treated Solomon, it was clear the man had no need to be so earnest with him. He could have ordered, coaxed, threatened, or simply ignored him.
Instead, he'd chosen to teach him something valuable and offered an honest answer to a deeply personal concern. Nemo's view of him shifted, if only subtly. But before the moment could deepen, Solomon stood and looked toward the jungle.
"Want to help gather your fellow mentees? They did well, but none of them got covered in the slime like you, so they haven't discovered its healing properties yet. Time to dunk some people in plant monster goo."
Solomon's grin had returned as he strode into the jungle with unhurried steps. Nemo followed—not just out of curiosity about how the others had fared, but because once Solomon left the clearing, it suddenly felt much less warm... and much more threatening.
Not far from the clearing, they found Giada. She was slumped against a tree, breathing in haggard gasps, thorns piercing her in at least seven places. Blood trickled from her nose, mouth, and ears. Several nearby trees were splintered, barely held up by tangled vines.
"Take care of her. I'll wait—the other one's in better shape."
Nemo nodded and approached the monster's corpse. Unlike his own, this one bore patches of frostbite. Smart, he thought, much better than my ridiculous method of eating it. He felt almost ashamed—_almost._ But what worked, worked.
He grabbed the monster by the thorns still lodged in its face and dragged it to Giada. She was still breathing—barely. In her hand was a long steel knife. Much better prepared than me, he thought.
Nemo halved the monster and began shoveling its clear, gelatinous fluid over Giada's body without ceremony. A bit got into her mouth, and she coughed violently—more blood spewing forth—but he continued. Once she was thoroughly covered, he broke off a thorn and held it to her lips.
"Bite down. This is going to hurt."
Her body was no longer in fight-or-flight mode. That meant she would feel everything—without the dulling haze of adrenaline.
"The slime also works as a numbing agent," Solomon added.
Giada's eyes brightened.
"Only works locally. Surface-level wounds only," he clarified.
Her eyes welled with tears. Nemo knew it would only get worse from here.
He pushed the thorn into position, locked eyes with her, and ripped the first thorn out. She let out a muffled scream, her white lips trembling, and the wood beneath her creaked from the force of her bite.
He quickly coated the wound in more slime and kept going. He ignored her pain—better to finish quickly. In five minutes, all the thorns were gone. She was still in agony, but Nemo knew something Solomon hadn't said aloud:
Though the slime worked on surface wounds, for these specific injuries, it would reach her bloodstream. And when it did, she'd feel a lot better.
"Take her. One more patient left," Solomon said, already walking away.
Nemo hoisted Giada in a fireman's carry. Her weight didn't bother him—he was still slick with monster slime himself.
Soon, they reached the site of Holt's fight. The plant monster stood still, swaying in the breeze, its tail rooted in the ground and its floral head turned skyward.
Solomon smiled faintly.
"I chose these creatures for three reasons: one, they're easy for me to transport; two, they're easy to track and not overly dangerous; and three—most importantly—they don't aim to kill.
Instead, they paralyze their prey, restore them to peak condition, then begin a heretical moon ceremony that turns them into something called a "Moon Worship Chrysalis."
He paused.
"Sounds dangerous—but it takes about twenty years. And a Chrysalis is no joke. Even I'd need to go all out to take one down. And there's never just one."
Solomon gestured toward the plant, and Nemo understood. He laid Giada down, took her knife, and approached. Carefully, so as not to cut into Holt, he opened the plant.
It didn't resist—just swayed gently, as if still dreaming of the moon.
Eventually, Holt fell out, coughing up viscous slime.
Nemo inspected the plant—scorch marks, flakes peeling from its surface—but before he could look further, the creature began to wither and collapse. lle
"When the offering fails," Solomon said, "it sacrifices itself to appease its _mother's_ hunger."
He emphasized the last word and gave Nemo a knowing look.
Holt recovered quickly. Within minutes, he looked as good as new. He glanced at the plant, then at Solomon, then at Giada and Nemo—and back again.
Then he cursed.
"Damn it. I almost had it! It didn't even get me once with those stupid thorns. I tried to dry it out completely, and that's when it discarded the thorns. Tentacles came out... I blacked out after that."
Solomon grinned.
"Nemo, take Giada and follow me. We'll talk soon."
They walked for hours. Nemo felt sure they must have looped around by now, but the jungle never ended. Finally, it opened up. Grey-black stone stretched high into the sky—a mountain at the island's center.
Solomon waved his hands like a conductor, and the jungle responded. Vines were wove into chairs and a table. Wooden mugs appeared, and a pitcher filled with the clearest water Nemo had ever seen. The pitcher remained full, even after pouring.
"Sit, kids," Solomon said.
Holt helped place Giada into a chair. She grimaced, shooting him a dark look, but stayed silent. Holt and Nemo sat beside her. Solomon still smiled.
"I suppose introductions are in order. I'm Solomon, a Branch Holder on the cusp of becoming an Ascendent. My aspect is plants and vegetation—but its core is _life. That's why my fault prevents me from getting too close to women.
As an Apostle of Life, I'm compelled to create it. In other words, my flaw is a compulsion to overuse my aspect... or to produce children."
The three were stunned into silence. Not so much at the flaw's nature, but because Solomon had freely shared both his aspect and his flaw.
Giada, however, was caught off guard by _what_ the flaw implied. She wondered uneasily whether he was considering reproduction with _her_ at that moment.
"A big part of being Awakened is managing your flaw's influence. If I get too close to a woman, I risk losing control. I tell you this so you understand what it truly means to have a mentor.
I expect full honesty from you. I won't withhold information unless it's absolutely necessary. You may have secrets from others—but not from me. Trust is rare in our world. I give you mine, and I hope you'll give me yours."
For a while, no one spoke. Holt was the first to break the silence.