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And after a few moments of silence, the wall split right in front of her, solid bricks parting down the middle as if there’d been a crack there all along. The stone vanished horizontally into itself on either side, creating an open doorway for her.

She didn’t care. Didn’t question. She just pushed through. Feeling her way towards her destination. Not even using her eyes to guide her.

The back of her mind became abruptly aware of how strange this all was. She was able to take a step back and look at herself, almost like an out-of-body experience. Assessing the situation.

Feeling her way? Feeling how? Where were these feelings coming from?

Her brain, obviously. Her heart. Her soul?

The horns on her face.

That one was peculiar. Yes. The others were vague enough to be believable, sure. But that one--that one she could actually feel with certainty. The stubby little horns that had grown out of her face when her mutation ability first manifested all the way back in Aguarey--they were reacting.

They’d never done that before. Or at least, she hadn’t noticed it before. But here and now, with the benefit of this secondary thought process, she could tell clear as day. The horns were sensing things. Guiding her as if with a mind of their own? No. Of course not. She was simply using them. She didn’t understand how, but she wanted to know something, and they were helping her find it.

What did she want to know? That was the question. In the front of her mind, she had no idea. Guided by feeling. That was all. But in the back...?

In the back of her mind, the big picture was clearer. Obvious, even.

She wanted to see home. To sense it. To visit. To feel it. To know it.

And finally, as she pushed through more hallways, navigated into more rooms, she began to understand.

She sensed a sanctuary of vegetation somewhere around here. Unfortunately, there was no madega tree, as far as she could tell, but still. It was a group of living, breathing flora in the middle of this ancient Library.

In the middle of this dead continent called Exoltha.

That was the real issue, wasn’t it? During all her time here, she hadn’t seen an ounce of greenery anywhere, other than, perhaps, in pictures. Paintings. Artwork. Some of the books had those, of course.

This was not that, though. This was actual life. Surviving in an impossible environment.

And she had to find it. See it. Touch it.