They exited the boss room into twilight Whisperwood, loot glowing in Vesna's pack. The bond hummed warm and new.
Vesna thought internally, still processing. That was… intense. Planned to push deeper for better gear, but this 'thing' inside me? Need to regroup. Food, bath, bed. Figure out what the hell latched on.
Zzyzx's voice whispered curiously. "Slime? Darling, I'm no puddle. Zzyzx — from stars, voids. You… Vesna? Memories peek. Caravan girl?"
Vesna startled aloud. "How do you know my name? Get out of my head!"
They reached Oakridge as night fell — thatched roofs, lantern-lit streets, adventurers milling around the guild board.
In the inn room, Vesna sank into the bath (tasteful shadows, steam rising). Zzyzx's presence lingered, no physical form yet, but her voice was intimate.
"Your body… scars from travels. Griffin tale? Wild."
"Privacy! You're worse than a nosy spirit."
The banter flowed — playful, teasing, slowly warming. That night, the dream sequence hit: neon cities, caped heroes, rifts. For a split second, two massive silhouettes watched from the cosmic void — one laughing softly, one booming.
Vesna woke at dawn, veins pulsing softly, eyes wide.
"That dream… your memories? It's true. You're… alien."
Zzyzx sounded pleased. "Believer now? Good. But why here… mystery."
"Yeah. No clue. But if we're stuck… might as well use you."