The wind dances through the leaves in a pealing chime of laughter. "Oh, little one," says the tendrils of air that flick by her face and caress her hair. "This place is not meant for you." The air coalesces into a shimmering space where color loses meaning. It is smiling, teeth bright and blue and gold and green and scarlet. The words are not unkind. The smile is not cruel. The air is not frigid. The space is not unwelcoming. And still the wind laughs.

She blinks up at the apparition, tilting her head. "Not meant for me?" she echoes, lifting a hand to touch the colors that swim through its form. Her fingers pass through unimpeded, sending ripples through the impossible hues. "I don't think I was meant for anywhere in particular. I simply am." Inquiring glance meets mysterious smile, as she takes in this strange thing that calls itself the wind, that feels like laughter and looks like the heart of a nebula. "Everyone and everything is meant for everywhere, or nowhere at all." They didn't give her training for this in the Summer Scouts.

"And there you have found the answer," it croons, still gleaming in a light that does not shine. "This is a nowhere-place, and you are not a nothing-person." The laughter echoes farther than it should, bouncing from tree to tree until the forest entire rings with it. "How many branches are on this tree, darling?" it says, gesturing with a light breeze towards a tall and sterling specimen that tastes of milk and starlight. "Count them." Numbers are a construct of the everywhere-places, beside permanence and causality. Existence is far more malleable in places such as this one.

She tilts her head back, peering up into the branches that seem to stretch endlessly into the sky. Counting them would be an impossible task, as they blur and shift when she tries to focus, melding into each other. "I don't think there's any point in counting," she says, glancing back to the impossible creature. "Numbers don't seem to mean much here. Though I suppose that's to be expected, in a place meant for nowhere and no one." Reaching out, she grabs one of the lower branches and pulls herself up. The wood feels strange under her hands, not quite solid and not quite gas. She climbs higher, until the ground seems very far away, and settles onto a broad limb. "What do you call this place?" she asks, kicking her feet idly. The rules of gravity, it seems, are as flexible as any others here.

The laughter continues. Maybe it never stops here. "You are all so similar. Looking for Names and Categories and Simpliciter. This place is simply this place. It needs no reference while I am here, and when I am gone, it will be nowhere, so it will have no reference. To Name it would be to make it Other than what it is." The tree branch she sits on slowly curls around her, cradling her ever so softly. It does not constrain, does not confine. It is merely present, skin to skin. "This is why you should go to the everywhere-places. They have Names and numbers. They have a place for you. This nowhere-place has no place for no one and no thing." The air is still like a breath held, anticipation and tension coiling tight.

She hums thoughtfully, resting her hands on the ever-shifting branch that cradles her. "You want me to leave this place. Or rather, you know I don't belong here." She tilts her head up, staring into a sky that refuses to resolve itself into anything familiar or definable. "But nowhere and no one have a claim on me either. I don't need to belong anywhere." Her fingers slide over the bark, feeling its strange not-texture, watching colors that don't exist bleed into her skin. She does miss her friends, but it doesn't seem like the most... pressing concern right now. Besides, Neptune will take care of Venus.

"Oh darling," whispers the wind up against her ear, and it almost sounds sad. "You can't stay." No matter how shimmer-soft, how river-stone, she is of the everywhere-places, a something-person, and she simply cannot persist as she is in this place. "This is a nowhere-place. It has nothing inside. You are something, and what a beautiful something you are. There is no something here. Not for long." There is nothing to be gained in making nothing out of something and everything to be lost, no matter how gently the trees would have her. The wind knows the taste of salt, even if the trees anchor themselves with themselves. There are teeth buried within the roots.

She sighs at the creature's gentle insistence, leaning into the branch that holds her. "You're determined to send me away, aren't you?" The colors from her hands have spread further, swirling over her arms in patterns that hurt to look at and yet are impossible to look away from. She knows it's right; already she feels her sense of self starting to fray at the edges, dissolving into laughter and starlight. But she has always been stubborn. With effort, she pulls her hands away from the branch, clenching them into fists to trap the colors beneath her skin. "I don't belong anywhere," she repeats, as much to herself as her ephemeral companion. "So I will go... elsewhere. But not because you're sending me away." She climbs down carefully, the world tilting under her feet with every step. At the base of the tree she pauses, glancing up at where the creature's smile still gleams, as constant as the laughter. "Thank you for your concern," she says softly. "But I choose my own nowhere-places to wander." Turning away, she takes a few steps between the trees and---

She is outside the forest, sunlight shining down on a field of grass. The trees look different from the outside, less humming, more grooves. There are birds somewhere, perhaps. This is a place where the earth stands still.

Behind her, someone giggles. "Got kicked out of the Faerie Forest, eh? You know those types, always so sweet when you're out here, and then you go in, and they're suddenly the taste of shattered glass and want nothing to do with you. Such a shame..."

She blinks at the abrupt transition, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. It takes a moment for the giggling voice to register, and she turns slowly, peering at the speaker. Female, orange hair, vaguely familiar - a campmate, maybe? She frowns, trying to place the face. "I wasn't kicked out, exactly," she says, shaking her head a little to clear it of the lingering traces of impossible colors. "They just... strongly suggested it was time for me to leave. Before I stopped being something and started being nothing, I suppose." She glances over her shoulder at the innocuous-looking trees, feeling suddenly reluctant to turn her back on them. "Have we met before?" she asks, looking to the other girl again. Her memories feel tangled, like threads of two different fabrics woven haphazardly together. Some are fading, while others sharpen into new focus. "I seem to be having some trouble keeping things straight at the moment."

The girl giggles again. "I mean, you University folk come to town sometimes, but we don't really talk. Speaking of, something big's going on up there. A lot of the big cloaks running around. You might want to check in?" She points towards the only hill in the middle of what seems to be a prairie. On that hill is a tall building with spires arcing up to meet the sky. True to her word, there does seem like there are a lot of people running around, though they don't seem too big from this distance. 

Jupiter frowns, following the girl's pointing finger to the building atop the distant hill. The University. Yes, that sounds familiar. She spent time there, didn't she? Studying...something. Her brow furrows as she tries to remember. "There does seem to be some commotion," she says slowly. "I suppose I should go see what's happening." She glances again at the line of trees behind her, an odd reluctance tugging at her to venture back into their depths. But the University calls her now, for reasons she can't quite grasp. With a nod of thanks to the orange-haired girl, Jupiter starts off across the field toward the hill, each step pulling faded memories into sharper focus. The Summer Scouts, her friends, lessons on cosmological theory and deep space survival. By the time she reaches the arched gates of the University, nearly everything has settled back into its proper place. She pauses to scan the central plaza, watching scholars and students hurrying to and fro, a humming energy in the air that speaks of something big on the horizon. Drawing a deep breath of the familiar sights and sounds, Jupiter sets off into the fray to find some answers.

Both students and faculty look panicked, though the older wizards do a better job at hiding it. People are poring over scrolls with swirling ink and gesticulating frantically at each other. They are hushed, but everything about the situation implies that many are one wrong move away from an informal wizard brawl. Snippets of different conversation flow past her ears.

"—numbers are absurd! A surge of potential this large would level the Academy, not even considering the—"

"—space is always hard around that place but this could indicate a reconvergence of the ley lines if you just trace—"

"—dispersion patterns indicate a high-activation low-maintenance spell typical of permanent transformation, energy transfer, summoning, or formless—"

"—resonance drops off immediately, no backlash or anything. It's like the spell doesn't even—"

"—librarian is actively shedding scales over all these scrolls out, if anyone's done with theirs, please return them—"

Everyone seems fairly busy, but not so busy that she couldn't interrupt.

Jupiter weaves through the bustling scholars, catching fragments of hushed conversations that do little to clarify the situation. Something has disrupted the magical energies here, setting off a flurry of research and debate that threatens to boil over at any moment. She pauses by a cluster of older professors, recognizing a few from her studies. "Pardon me," she says, inclining her head respectfully. "I've only just returned from an...excursion. Would someone mind filling me in on what exactly is happening here?"

The Professor (known only by title, unlike the rest) snaps his head up from the small huddle. "Didn't you feel it?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "That momentary surge of potential. It snapped Madame Ryoko out of hibernation two months ahead of schedule. And worst of all, none of these idiots I call colleagues can even agree on the basic principles of the event. Laurence, the surge was obviously mostly backflow to a local deficit from the event itself. Ponnel, your 'elevated power levels' are because the local equilibrium has dropped by a non-negligible amount, and I would know. Winslow, your dispersion patterns are... not terrible. Now cross-reference them with those extreme hypotheticals we use for ridiculous examples."

In essence, no one really knows what is happening here. 

She blinks at the Professor's abrupt summation, more confused than before. A surge of magical potential, awakening creatures from hibernation and disrupting the energies here, the cause of which remains unknown. "I see," she says slowly, though she doesn't, not really. Her 'excursion' must have taken her farther than she realized, for her to have missed something so significant. She glances over the arguing scholars, the harried librarians, the general air of controlled panic. "And no one has any ideas as to the source of this surge?" she asks. Whatever woke Madame Ryoko and set the University scholars scrambling, it seems far beyond her own meager talents. Still, she's reluctant to venture back outside the University gates until she has some grasp of what's happening. "What can I do to help?"

The Professor grimaced. "You can..." Then he frowned. "I don't recognize you. When did you take Magical Theory?" Every student at the University must, at some point, take Magical Theory, even the ones who are there for non-magical subjects. The vast majority of magical subjects have it as a prerequisite. The Professor knows everyone. But he doesn't know this person. 

Another professor raised an eyebrow at him. "I've seen this student in the hallways before. They take..." This professor frowns a little. "I can't recall right now. But anyway, it's not really that relevant!"

She stands silently for a moment, frowning as she realizes the professors don't seem to recognize her. Stranger still, their memories of her seem hazy at best, as though viewing her through some distorting lens. The familiar sights and sounds of the University feel slightly off, in a way she can't quite define. Something isn't right here. There's a ringing in her ears and her vision swims. She might throw up. "My apologies," she says abruptly. "I seem to have confused myself. I should...get out of the way." Backing away from the clustered professors, she starts off down one of the arched hallways at as casual a pace as she can muster. As soon as she's out of their sight, though, she breaks into a run, boots slapping against the stone floors. She needs to find Neptune and Venus. Whatever strange magics are at work here, causing this surge of power and disrupting memories, she knows she won't unravel them alone. Her friends will help her make sense of this, as they always have. They are her anchors, when the call of open space and distant stars grows too strong. As long as she has them by her side, there is nothing to fear from magic or the Devil or her own wandering heart. She heads for the dorms, she'll definitely find them there.

The student dorms are in the East Wing. Something about the sun and convergence of energy. Some people give her odd looks as she sprints through the halls, but with what's going on outside, she's barely worth the look. Arch after arch spill by, stained-glass windows shining. The dorms are distributed by floor, each year with their own. The metaphor of ascension made physical, made tangible. She just needs to find her room. She's on... which floor is she on again? Years aren't constrained by age, just by skill, but how long has she been here?

She runs up several flights of stairs, feet pounding against the well-worn stone, until she finds her usual floor. The hallway seems unfamiliar for a moment before resolve sets back in and she heads down it, scanning the doors for the number Neptune painted there last winter. 402. She skids to a stop in front of it, panting, and raises a fist to pound against the wood. "Neptune!" Her voice is tight with barely-controlled panic. "Venus! Are you in there? Open up, we have a problem!" She continues hammering at the door, the noise echoing through the empty hallway. No one answers. Her stomach drops, a cold tightness settling into her chest. They should be here. Where else would they be? Steeling herself, she tries the handle and finds it unlocked. The door swings open to reveal a mostly empty room, devoid of any signs its usual inhabitants were just here. Bunk beds line one wall, sheets and blankets in disarray. Scattered notes and sketches litter the floor and desks, topics ranging from constellations to combustion engines to mythology. But no Neptune. No Venus. She takes a few halting steps into the room, glancing around in disbelief. They were just here, she could have sworn - she remembers talking with them, making plans to visit the new aeronautics museum, teasing Venus about his crush on the librarian's assistant. But the details slip through her mental grasp like water, leaving her with a nameless apprehension that something is very wrong. "Where did you go?" she whispers, fists clenched at her sides. Her voice breaks. "You can't just leave me here alone."

The sound of sharp footsteps resonate down the hall, not quite in time with the steps themselves. The Professor stops just outside Room 402. "I knew I didn't recognise you. The casting pattern. Excess, deficit, equilibrium. Atypical of wizards and warlocks. The reverse of sorcerers. Of course it wasn't a spell." The Professor sighs, running a hand across his face. "This sort of thing is usually undetectable for everyone else."

She stares at the Professor, fists slowly unclenching. His words sink in, clarifying the reason for her confusion and the strange absence of her friends. Of course. It had to be magic - some working gone awry, or experiment tampered with. The familiar halls and faces of this place were never quite right. She swallows against the tightness in her throat, willing her voice to remain steady. "This isn't camp, is it." It's not a question. She knows now that none of this was real. The surge of power, the scholars' arguments, her frantic search through empty dorm rooms - all an elaborate illusion, meant to distract her from the truth. But why? And who conjured it? Her mind spins with unanswered questions, even as she struggles to accept the loss of the only anchors she knows. Neptune and Venus were never here. There is no Them against the Devil this time. She is alone. Her fingers curl into fists again as anger wars with fear. How dare they toy with her in this way.

"No." The Professor said. "This is a school, and you are suspended in an unstable equilibrium. Have you been experiencing contradictory memories?"

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "Yes," she says shortly, meeting the Professor's gaze. "Ever since I woke in that forest. Nothing here has felt quite...real." Her hands clench into fists at her sides, anger simmering just below the surface. Anger at being manipulated, at having her deepest fears and desires toyed with in such a way. "What is this place? Why did you bring me here?" She has so many questions, but those two seem the most pressing. If this was meant as some kind of twisted experiment, she intends to find out who is responsible.

"I didn't—" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "This place is real, but as far as our methods have been able to detect, it is... less real than most other 'real' places." He curls a hand, and a faint image of a waterfall spilling into a canyon appears. "Reality seeks equilibrium. We are fortunate enough to be entirely encased by unreal places or we would be drowned beneath the weight of a foreign world." The waterfall image twists, and now there is no canyon. Instead, the waterfall floods the land below. "With enough power, enough reality, things can make it over the gap." The canyon again, but this time, the waterfall flows faster, and glimmering droplets land on the other side. 

He looks at her, and his eyes flash gold and grey. "Did you become something real? Something vast and glorious enough to traverse the infinite nothing? Or did the once-stable floor of reality collapse beneath your feet?"