Dust covered everything.
A narrow desk stood against one wall.
Shelves held sealed jars and old bundles of paper.
A faded court banner hung crookedly from a beam.
Aki resisted the urge to straighten it.
Do not remove any object except the trial prism.
The torn instructions felt judgmental inside their sleeve.
The projected Aki pointed toward the far wall.
There stood a tall cabinet made from pale wood.
Its door was open.
Aki stopped.
A circular velvet-lined space sat inside.
Empty.
They approached slowly.
“No.”
The copy folded its arms.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“The visible evidence favors yes.”
Aki crouched.
The velvet indentation clearly matched the size of a prism case.
There was no prism.
Aki searched the cabinet.
Nothing.
Underneath.
Nothing.
Behind it.
Dust.
They opened one drawer.
Empty.
Another.
A collection of dried writing brushes.
Third.
A dead beetle.
“Do not be the prism.”
The beetle did not respond.
Aki stood.
“This is fine.”
Their copy raised an eyebrow.
“This is the opposite of fine.”
“I followed the path.”
“Eventually.”
“I repaired the path.”
“After breaking the instructions.”
“I reached the waystation.”
“Yes.”
“And now the one object I was specifically sent to retrieve is not here.”
“Also yes.”
Aki paced.
“This is not failure.”
The copy watched.
“This is... advanced retrieval.”
Aki checked the cabinet again.
Still empty.
They leaned their forehead against the wood.
“Tsukine is going to make that face.”
“What face?”
“The face where she is being supportive so accurately that it hurts.”
Aki straightened.
“No. Someone moved it.”
They examined the dust.
The cabinet door had been opened recently.
A narrow clean streak crossed the floor.
Something had passed through the dust.
Aki crouched.
Tiny marks.
Not footprints exactly.
More like small bare toes.
Aki’s ears lifted.
Beside them, something glittered.
They touched the floor.
A faint dusting of iridescent gold clung to one fingertip.
Not foxfire.
Not court magic.
Pollen.
Aki looked toward the open window.
The curtains moved.
No wind entered.
Their copy whispered:
“Did you see that?”
A flash of light disappeared outside.
Aki ran to the window.
Between the trees, something small and bright darted behind a branch.
For one instant, Aki saw translucent wings.
Then nothing.
Their projected copy joined them.
“A fairy.”
Aki stared.
The stories rushed back.
Forbidden territory.
Unreliable paths.
Voices in flowers.
Do not accept gifts.
Do not pursue lights that know your name.
Aki looked at the empty cabinet.
Then at the pollen.
Then at the trees.
Their eyes narrowed.
“No.”
The projected Aki glanced over.
“No what?”
“My first official errand is not ending with someone stealing the official thing before I officially get it.”
A tiny flash appeared deeper in the Wood.
Aki climbed through the window.
Their copy pointed toward the door.
“There is an exit six steps away.”
“Too slow.”
“You could walk through the wall.”
“You could have mentioned that before.”
The copy walked through the wall.
Aki glared after them and climbed faster.
Outside, the Wood was quiet.
The green path waited behind the waystation.
The winged light was gone.
Aki searched the branches.
“Hello?”
Flowers opened.
A dozen voices answered at once.
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
Aki winced.
“Bad choice.”
The flowers closed.
Aki crouched beside the window.
Another faint trail of pollen glittered on the moss.
It led away from the authorized path.
Aki pulled out the torn instruction sheet.
Do not cross an unmarked threshold.
They looked at the pollen.
Then at the path.
Then back at the pollen.
Their projected copy stepped beside them.
“You said you were going to follow every rule.”
Aki’s ears dipped.
“I know.”
“You were very intense about it.”
“I remember.”
“You said ‘painfully perfectly.’”
“I was there.”
The copy looked toward the trees.
Aki sighed.
The emotional triumph of realizing your own mistakes was much less enjoyable when your own face narrated them.
Aki folded the torn instructions.
“Today’s lesson appears to be that I should stop making extra versions of myself.”
The copy smiled.
“That seems wise.”
Aki dismissed it.
The clearing became quiet.
They looked once more at the empty waystation.
At the old words under the arch.
Guests return home.
At the green path they had been allowed to use.
Aki had entered because they had named their purpose.
Retrieve the prism.