"Yeah.  Who knows who's listening."

"On a completely unrelated note, this has reminded me of stories of special gemstones- Ones with magic directly embedded in them and so on. I heard this from a three tailed recluse, but some gems called the Moon Tears can apparently turn someone into a kitsune, or give one new powers, once a century each. She and her wife claimed they did so themselves. If one ever wants to spread the love, so to speak. Certainly not our priority, but interesting, no?"

"...Yeah, that is interesting.

"Wish I'd had some for - well, I'm barely the third most kitsune-coded person I remember from Earth, and that's - only if you squint.  ...No point in getting lost in the past, though."

"Oh, there are people who- Let's skip to the end of that incipient rant and say 'eat the rich'. Probably not literally." She shakes her head.

The Spirit-Paths now have them climbing a long series of steps as the world around them twists. Terraces and towers, stone walls and forest huts.

"Quite.  ...Wait, aren't we about to become the rich if this works?  ...Then again, it's not as if there's magic patent enforcement...  Mm.  This might be trouble."

"We don't have to stay the rich. In Noten, there's magic trade secrets and a culture of you absolutely will get in a massive shitfit of trouble if you leak anything really juicy. Yay... And I'm talking Bill Gates rich, not successful cosmetic surgeon rich, anyway. The zero point one percent. Which we might hit for a while. Hmm... That's a point actually. Better make sure to earmark most of it for charity."

"Yeah, but I'm also thinking about...

"How much of the world this is going to break."

"It's.  Hm.

"I would be very upset with myself if I set off another Cold War, let alone World War Three, or however many.  And this is...  It's so damn simple.  If it works...  And I'm pretty sure it'll work...

"...At least it's not nukes, but I'm concerned that these things will become strategic investments."

"...Mm. Yes, I don't know about that. Part of me says the answer is 'information wants to be free'."

"It does, doesn't it?"

"Still almost makes me want to try for chemical vapor deposition instead, but...

"Well, I don't have the slightest damn clue where to actually start with that beyond knowing the technique exists.

"So it's heat-and-pressure or nothing, and I just can't pick nothing.  To be paralyzed for fear of doing harm is to never do good."

"I don't know as much about the Atsos as Noten. For major polities, you have the Federation Atsos here, Noten, and the steppe nomads- Who I know don't have many wizards. There are a number of subculture zones and colony zones, minor states, the marches, island nations, a desert nation that had a few revolts, some river states and coastal peoples and a few deep wild tribes, but those are the three great powers of the world. And both here and Noten have their points of infighting. As much as I performatively mistrust the gods... They do seem to select for and provide miracles for genuine good. Mostly. The answer might be selling the technique and tooling and training, if we manage this? So that it quickly stops being- A few people as the single point of failure whom attacking can end the whole thing."

"...You're not wrong, but I dread it nonetheless."

"I think it will be less of a problem than we're imagining. And we've got to get that far in the first place, too."

"...That we do."

"...Can you write down 'investigate possible nucleation media', because it just occurred to me that - well, we're trying to mimic something that occurs under a whole ton of rocks...  Without the rocks.  And who knows if there's something important in there being rocks there?

"I'm still pretty sure that this will work, though.  You couldn't get meteoric diamonds otherwise.  ...I wonder if any other fancy carbon would do anything...  That's a question for later."

"Mm."

She slows to a walk and a stop, pulls out a notebook, writes this down, and carefully puts it back, and speeds back up to a jog.

Quietly jogging time now, maybe?

Yeah they can speed up.

Through valleys and highland roads and forests and alleys and along a glittering coast, each one changing too rapidly to be quite natural...

It's not that long until they exit the Spirit World. Through another graveyard, adjacent to a walled town with flocks of sheep and goats being driven about. The town has a great many crosses all over it, with elaborate designs and mostly painted in red.

And Nicole is a giant winged fox again.

"This is the highlands. Fairly close to the road south to Noten, actually- The Great Canyon is about two thousand miles further, and it's the biggest single obstacle on the land route. From here, we fly to Windslab. Though... I wonder what's the best way for you to hold on..."

"...did Christianity survive this long?", she wonders, very quietly, upon seeing the crosses, "or is this some other thing?"

"...Oh, hell, that's gonna be a problem.  How am I going to hold on?  Or how would you hold on to me, in the other direction...

"How long are we going to be flying, for that matter?"

"Some sort of daughter religion considering the Light Gods to be important spirits, but not the Creator, yes. It's not really Christian in nature other than having a supreme deity, they don't believe in Heaven or Jesus Christ or anything... Uh. The flight is going to be about an hour and a half. Maybe you should just... Sit in one of my saddlebags.  I can still fly with a pretty decent amount of weight. Can move the tent to the other side so it's balanced."

She pats the one containing the food.

"Saddlebags would be good, as long as you're up for it."

"I think it's the best way, yeah."

And then they can fuss with arranging that- She has a bit of trouble working on things she is currently wearing, oddly dexterous and prehensile paws or not, and-

"Comfy?"

"Yeah, I think so."

With a grunt of effort, off they fly.

Scattered towns with herds and gardens give way to cold steppe. They seem to be constantly ascending. There are tall winding hills, with fewer and fewer signs of civilization.

And then to a particular one. A long, long unbroken slope reminiscent of some famous mountains of Earth, with nought but grasses and bushes growing on it, bent over in the wind that constantly pushes towards the top.

"Well... Here we are. Windslab. I think I remember where my cave was..."

She emits a low whistle of impressedness.  "This is certainly a geography.  Should I get down?"

"Yes, it's nice. Grand... If you like. To stretch or something. I might fly around a bit more to remember where the heck that cave was..."