It puts a smile on my face

As the trio of friends started to float on the pool's surface, Varos and Maple began to realize that Cailus’s words about the pool had left out some very crucial details. As the two Reoseans were now unable to will their bodies to move due to magic being at work they knew there was nothing the Tyrian and Chaser could do to warn their troubled puller friend about it now. As they watched their own bodies float alongside one another, their view changed again. Their vision dimmed until a black void greeted them, which then started to fill quickly with objects, one by one, as if someone were painting a scene. Autumn-colored leaves decorated the ground here, the forest slowly fading in the distance. A warm breeze rushed past Maple, rustling their fur like a parent would their child's hair before moving on. This was home. It was almost like that day—a faint flicker of recognition hushed past Maple's mind, without her being able to fully discern why.

Varos found himself in the dark void, eyes darting around, clearly panicked by how things were unfolding. “H-hello?” he yelled out, feeling the drumming of his heart in his chest quickening. “What is it, Varos?” he heard a familiar voice ask.

“How am I—” started Maple, wondering how she had been brought back to Warrenfall, before she heard herself laugh, her head slowly turning to the sound in disbelief and confusion about what was happening. Glancing to her right, Maple noticed something immediately: she and Varos were sitting under a chestnut tree, a small campfire in front of them. The Tyrian smiled as the realization fully set in. 

Katholes struggled against the pool's magic at first, much too wrapped up in their own thoughts to allow it to work. Yet when it finally did work, Katholes found themself hunted, haunted by past memories. It was as if they were being barraged by one splintered memory after another, crashing into them, constantly replaying the worst moment of each memory, leaving them more and more exhausted, afraid, and on edge. “Cut-throat,” “Backstabber,” “Liar,” they heard voices whisper, growing into an accusatory choir of yells, interspersed with flashes of memories of a ruthless past better left forgotten. Katholes tensed as a painful memory decided to plague them again, having gone against their orders to do good, recalling what they had lost for refusing the thieves' guild. Tears started to well up at the edges of their eyes. The voices were incoherently screeching at Katholes, every flash of memory feeling like a physical punch to the gut now. They cracked. “STOP!” echoed out—a word meant as a command, yet coming off more as a plea. There was silence as tears rolled down the puller’s cheeks, staining their fur, once again left in silence, only kept company by their whimpering. Katholes sobbed quietly to themself but then heard a wooden door creak open. Blurred vision due to the tears made it hard for Katholes to notice at first that these were their friends.

Turning around, Varos found himself back in his home’s kitchen, standing face to face with Fey, a good friend and mentor for Varos who had taught him the basics of cooking when he had just started out on his culinary journey. The green-coated Vayron continued to walk, passing right through Varos to approach a younger Varos, who was supposed to still be cleaning vegetables. As the Chaser turned around to observe the scene, he looked at his younger self, who had started to cut the vegetables into the shapes required for the broth they were cooking. “Already done with the vegetables, I see. But what did I tell you about handling the knife without me present?” said Fey, brows furrowed disapprovingly. Varos smiled as he heard his younger self stammer to find an answer again; he had always been so eager to earn his own chef's utensils and had done everything he could to impress Fey and show her that he was ready to receive his chef’s knife.

“This is the first time that Varos and I decided to cook together! Varos was so convinced that you could roast just any old chestnut out there.” Maple watched the scene unfold before her again, cringing lightly as Varos declared that he knew what he was doing before putting horse chestnuts into the crockpot hanging above the campfire. “Varos? Maple?” they asked, blinking the tears away before wiping at their face, happy to see their friends again but not wanting to show even an ounce of weakness. “Heya!” said the small bronze Chaser, stepping further into the establishment. Maple had to duck to go through the doorway, stepping foot onto wooden floorboards. “Welcome to the Last Drop,” rang out from behind Katholes. Their eyes widened in confusion; this was their voice—how? Vision finally cleared of tears, they found themself back in the familiar small tavern they had opened up in the middle of the forest to serve as a respite for wanderers. “This is—” started Katholes. “Hiya, my name is Maple and this is my friend Varos! We wanted to spend the night here and were wondering if you had any rooms available.” Katholes watched as their past self dismissively looked the two newcomers up and down, not immediately coming to appreciate the Tyrian’s bubbly nature. They had been about to confirm to Maple back then that they indeed had lodging still available, but that didn't stop the Tyrian.

“Even cuts,” noted Fey, inspecting past Varos’s handiwork. They smiled and then nodded to themself. “Say, have you been learning in secret? Is that what the bandaged paws you kept showing up with for our cooking lessons were about?” The green-coated runner received a sheepish nod in response. Varos felt more and more at ease and had started to quietly lip-sync what Fey was saying. “Maybe you are finally ready, little one,” they said, a challenging grin on their face. “If you manage to make me a perfect egg drop soup, I’ll consider giving you a shiny new cooking utensil set just for you.” Varos watched his younger self look up at Fey, his eyes practically radiating wonder and excitement. “That egg drop soup wasn’t easy to make, but the reward was very well worth it. and my first step to culinary independance.”

“We were sick for the rest of the day, but just sitting there listening to the fire crackle in front of us as Varos started to prepare this chestnut dish with such passion, it was magical. It was this moment that I just knew that Varos and I would be the best of friends.” She watched on as her friend plated up the roasted chestnuts, seasoning them generously before sharing them with her. The scene faded slowly, but for a second, Maple could have sworn that she could taste the chestnuts on her tongue again. 

Katholes smiled ever so slightly watching Maple be their typcial self, “Sooo this is kind of a remote place. Do you get a lot of customers? Do you miss travel? Do you have friends?” Watching the scene unfold, the red-coated puller smiled, all the troubles of the past few minutes having melted away. Their past self had a completely different reaction to the Tyrian, gruffly responding in as few words as possible to any question asked. This is when Katholes realized something. As they watched the scene play out before them, reliving the lively conversations Maple and Varos had tried to involve them in back then, they looked to their past self. The contrast to how they acted now was in stark contrast to how they acted back then, highlighting the progress the puller had made since they set out together on this journey. Katholes settled down, enjoying watching the memory play out again, laughing at his friend's past jokes.

If one were to look at the three friends floating in the pool now, they would have seen all three friends gently smile, even the usually sour Katholes.