Following the pigeon, who Su had mentally named Sir Coos-a-Lot, was an exercise in profound regret. The bird’s internal compass seemed to have been manufactured by a drunkard on a dare.

  One moment they were heading north, the next they were circling a particularly fascinating oak tree for twenty minutes because Sir Coos-a-Lot had spotted a shiny piece of bottle cap. Su’s internal monologue was a continuous, seething stream of profanity, filtered only by the limitations of her avian vocal cords.

  Are we migrating or are you just redecorating your mental map with garbage? My kingdom for a GPS and thumbs. Mostly thumbs.

  SYSTEM NOTICE: HOST’S FRUSTRATION LEVELS ARE OPTIMAL FOR ‘THE QUIET MIND’ TRIAL. SUGGEST MEDITATION.

  I’ll meditate on shoving your suggestions into a woodchipper, Su grumbled, a series of guttural clucks that made Sir Coos-a-Lot glance back in mild concern.

  After three days of meandering, the landscape began to change. The rolling hills grew steeper, the air thinner and colder. They were definitely approaching the mountains, even if their path looked like a toddler’s scribble.

  It was on the fourth day that things got properly weird.

  They entered a valley where the trees were not green, but a shimmering, metallic silver. Their leaves tinkled like wind chimes in the breeze. Sir Coos-a-Lot landed on a branch and began pecking at it with a thoughtful expression.

  Oh, for the love of—are we stopping for a snack? Is this a snack tree?

  Before Su could voice her exasperation, a new sound reached her. Not the tinkling of leaves, but a percussive thumping and a high-pitched, chittering chant.

  Cautiously, she crept forward, Sir Coos-a-Lot forgotten for the moment. She peeked through the shimmering foliage.

  In a clearing stood a circle of… squirrels. But not just any squirrels. These squirrels were wearing tiny, woven helmets and carrying needles as spears. In the center of their circle, a large, fat squirrel was standing on a mushroom, beating a tiny drum slung over its shoulder. They were all chanting in unison, their little faces screwed up in concentration.

  ANALYSIS: TRIBAL SQUIRREL WARRIORS (THE ACORN GUARD).

  OBSERVED ACTIVITY: RITUALISTIC COMBAT DRILL.

  THREAT LEVEL: LOW (UNLESS YOU ARE A WALNUT).

  Su stared, her beak hanging slightly open. This was it. The sleep deprivation had finally gotten to her. She was hallucinating militarized rodents.

  The system, however, had other ideas.

  HIDDEN QUEST DISCOVERED: ‘THE NUTTY PROFESSOR’

  THE ACORN GUARD PROTECTS THE ‘HEART-NUT’, A SACRED ITEM BELIEVED TO HOLD THE MEMORY OF THE FOREST. IT IS ALSO A KEY INGREDIENT FOR A POTION OF MIMICRY MASTERY.

  OBJECTIVE: ACQUIRE THE HEART-NUT THROUGH DIPLOMACY OR THEFT.

  REWARD: MIMICRY SKILL UPGRADED TO ‘ADEPT’ LEVEL. PERMANENT +1 TO CUNNING.

  WARNING: THEIR BITE IS WORSE THAN THEIR BARK.

  Diplomacy? Theft? With squirrels? Su was not negotiating with a militia of fluff-balls.

  She decided on a third option: overwhelming, bizarre force.

  She focused her Mimicry skill, now Apprentice level and reached for the deepest, most primal sound she could remember from her old life.

  The sound of a supermarket checkout scanner. A loud, insistent BEEEEEP.

  The effect was instantaneous.

  The drumming stopped. The chanting died. Every single squirrel froze, their heads swiveling in unison towards the source of the piercing noise. The drum-major squirrel dropped its tiny mallet in terror.

  Seizing the moment of confusion, Su burst from the foliage. She didn’t charge them or even look at them. She strutted directly towards the large, ceremonial nut resting on a pedestal of moss in the center of their circle, radiating an aura of such bureaucratic purpose that the squirrels were too baffled to intervene.

  She snatched the Heart-Nut, which was warm and hummed with a faint energy, in her beak, gave a curt, officious nod to the stunned squirrel commander as if filing a form in triplicate, and then turned and walked calmly back into the forest.

  For a full five seconds, there was silence. Then, an explosion of panicked, high-pitched chittering erupted behind her.

  QUEST COMPLETE: ‘THE NUTTY PROFESSOR’

  REWARD: MIMICRY UPGRADED TO ‘ADEPT’. +1 CUNNING.

  NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: ‘BUREAUCRATIC BLUSTER’ - YOUR AIR OF OFFICIOUSNESS CAN TEMPORARILY CONFUSE INTELLIGENT CREATURES.

  Su didn’t stop to admire her new skill. She ran, the sound of tiny, furious squirrel war-cries echoing behind her. Sir Coos-a-Lot, having finally finished his inspection of the tinkling tree, fluttered down to join her, looking entirely unbothered.

  You useless feather-duster, Su thought, but with slightly less venom than before. The +1 to Cunning felt good.

  They traveled for two more days, the land growing ever more vertical and strange. They passed through a field of flowers that sang in harmony and a stream where the water flowed uphill. Sir Coos-a-Lot seemed to know exactly where he was going now, his flight path becoming unnervingly direct.

  Finally, they stood at the base of the Fanged Mountain. It was a black cliff face, riddled with caves. And perched on a ledge high above was a sight that made Su’s curse-mark thrum in recognition.

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  It was a peacock but unlike any she had ever seen. Its plumage was not just blue and green, but shot through with shifting, ethereal colors that seemed to drink the light. Silver patterns, like constellations, swirled across its train. It was smaller than Resplendent Feather, but its presence was vast and ancient.

  It looked down at her, its starry eyes unblinking.

  Sir Coos-a-Lot cooed softly and nudged a pebble towards her with his foot, as if presenting his final offering.

  The celestial peacock let out a call that was not a sound, but a wave of information that slammed into Su’s mind.

  It wasn't a welcome but a test.

  An image of a complex, glowing lock. An image of a key shaped like a peacock's feather. An image of a dark, yawning cave entrance at the base of the cliff, sealed by a door of woven, living thorns.

  SKY-DANCER TRIAL INITIATED: ‘THE UNWORTHY’

  PROVE YOUR CUNNING IS MORE THAN PETTY THEFT AND BAR-FIGHT ESCAPES. THE DOOR AWAITS. THE KEY IS WITHIN YOU.

  FAILURE MEANS ETERNAL EXILE. (AND PROBABLY MORE SQUIRRELS.)

  Su stared up at the celestial judge, then at the imposing, thorn-sealed cave.

  The key was within me? Okay, you sparkly bastard, she squawked, puffing out her speckled chest. You want cunning? I’ll give you cunning that’ll make your constellations rearrange.

  She strutted towards the thorny door, her mind already racing with plans. The real trial had begun.

  The thorny door was even more imposing up close. The vines were as thick as her leg and complex. It looked less like a lock and more like a particularly aggressive piece of botanical art that hated her personally.

  Alright, you overgrown briar patch, Su thought, circling the door. Let's see what you've got.

  The system was no help.

  SUGGESTED ACTION: PROJECT THE IMAGE OF A PEACOCK FEATHER. THE KEY IS METAPHORICAL.

  Metaphorical my ass, Su clucked. The last 'metaphorical' thing I encountered was a 'Trial of Humility' that involved public defecation. I'm not falling for that again.

  She decided to start with diplomacy. Or her version of it. She focused her Adept-level Mimicry on the concept of paperwork. She projected a wave of soul-crushing bureaucratic intent at the door.

  I am here to file Form 7-B, subsection 'Cursed Avian Entry Request'. I trust you have the appropriate permits for this vegetative obstruction?

  The thorns shivered. The glowing rune flickered, confused. For a moment, the vines seemed to loosen, as if considering fetching a clipboard.

  Then they tightened again, even more fiercely. Apparently, the door was not in the mood for forms.

  Fine. Plan B.

  She remembered the Heart-Nut, it held the "memory of the forest." What if she didn't use it for a potion, but… played it? Like a record?

  She focused on the nut, on its stored energy, and combined it with her Mimicry and pushed the concept of memory itself through the nut's power, aiming it at the living door.

  She projected the memory of the first sunrise, first rain and a single acorn falling and taking root.

  The door froze. The menacing hum ceased. The thorns trembled, not in anger, but in… recognition? Awe? It was a living thing, and she had just sung it the song of its own beginning.

  The central vine unwove itself, slithering back to reveal a narrow, keyhole-shaped slit.

  PROGRESS: DOOR IS RECEPTIVE. KEYHOLE REVEALED.

  THE KEY IS WITHIN YOU.

  Su stared at the keyhole. The key was within her. A peacock feather. She looked at her own dull, speckless plumage. She didn't have a proper feather, not one that would fit this lock.

  Or did she?

  She didn't have a physical key, but she had something better: a complaint.

  She focused all her will, her newfound Cunning, her Bureaucratic Bluster, and her deep, abiding rage at the entire concept of locks. She didn't project an image of a key.

  She projected the legal precedent for one.

  A flood of psionic information slammed into the keyhole: building codes, zoning laws for mystical gates, the inherent right of passage for sentient curses, a strongly worded citation about improper thorn density violating safety regulations.

  The door shuddered violently. The rune flashed between red, blue, and a confused shade of lavender. It was having a full-blown system error. The thorns writhed, trying to compute the legalistic nightmare she was subjecting it to.

  With a sound like a sighing forest, the vines unwove themselves. The door swung inward, revealing a dark passage leading into the heart of the mountain.

  SKY-DANCER TRIAL: ‘THE UNWORTHY’ - COMPLETE!

  REWARD: +1000 XP! LEVEL UP! SPECKLESS PEACOCK IS NOW LEVEL 6!

  TITLE UNLOCKED: ‘The Loophole’ - You have a preternatural talent for exploiting technicalities in magical and mundane systems.

  Su strutted over the threshold, feeling the warm surge of leveling up. That's right, she muttered to the defeated door. You can't argue with zoning laws.

  Sir Coos-a-Lot fluttered in after her, dropping a piece of quartz he'd picked up as a celebratory gift.

  The cave was not what she expected. It wasn't a dank, dark hole. The walls were smooth, polished stone, covered in intricate murals depicting the history of the Sky-Dancers. They showed glorious, celestial peacocks dancing among the stars, weaving the constellations into being, and… arguing. A lot. The murals were full of birds turning their backs on each other, having what looked like vehement philosophical disagreements in shimmering paint.

  So they're a bunch of dramatic, cosmic artists with anger issues, Su mused. Good to know.

  The tunnel opened into a vast, breathtaking cavern. The ceiling was so high it was lost in darkness, but the cavern itself was illuminated by thousands of glowing crystals embedded in the walls and floor. In the center stood a gathering of Sky-Dancers.

  There were perhaps two dozen of them. Their plumage was a breathtaking array of cosmic patterns—one had the swirling arms of a galaxy across its train, another was patterned like a nebula, a third seemed to be woven from pure sunlight. They were all stunning, powerful, and they were all staring at her with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright contempt.

  And there, at the front of the group, was Resplendent Feather.

  He was just as magnificent and insufferable as she remembered, his tail a masterpiece of emerald and sapphire. His eyes, however, held no recognition. Only a confusion and a flicker of something else… annoyance?

  The celestial emissary from the ledge glided down to land beside him, its starry eyes fixed on Su.

  A new Sky-Dancer, one with plumage the color of a stormy sky and eyes that crackled with lightning, stepped forward. His voice echoed in her mind, deep and authoritative.

  "You are the Speckless One. The Curse-Bearer. You have passed the trial of the door, not with grace, but with… pedantry." He sounded vaguely impressed, and deeply disappointed. "You have earned a hearing. State your purpose."

  All eyes were on her. The cosmic council of judgmental pigeons awaited her plea.

  Su took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of truth.

  She puffed out her chest, looked Resplendent Feather dead in his beautiful, stupid eyes and with all the sass she could muster, she projected her thought to the entire assembly.

  My purpose? You mean besides being turned into a walking gender crisis by that one? She jabbed a wing at Resplendent Feather. I'm here to file a formal complaint and to demand a refund.

  A stunned psychic silence filled the cavern.

  Then, Resplendent Feather finally spoke, his mental voice a mix of dawning horror and outrage.

  "It's… you? The noisy ape from the zoo?"

  CLIFFHANGER: COSMIC CONFRONTATION

  THE COUNCIL IS IN AN UPROAR. RESPLENDENT FEATHER FINALLY RECOGNIZES HIS GREATEST MISTAKE. AND HE DOES NOT LOOK HAPPY TO SEE HER.

  OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE FAMILY REUNION.