Edgardo the Masseur: ♪"Oh-oh, who could say no to a night like this?"♪
A sound like the bellowing of a yak emerges from behind the flickering campfire.
A circle forms around the flames. Cooper the Healer and Maich the Peddler nestle into some cushions. They exchange a knowing glance.
Cooper the Healer: Careful, Maich, Edgardo's gonna crush your crate if he sits on it—and he'll take Mercuria down with him when he falls.
Maich furrows her brow with a smile and nudges Cooper's shoulder, urging her to pay attention to Edgardo.
Edgardo the Masseur: A warm welcome to you all!
Edgardo the Masseur: Thanks for taking time out from your busy schedules of foreseeing fates, communing with ghosts, and chatting with imaginary friends to join our bonfire bash.
Edgardo the Masseur: I believe everyone knows what happened here.
Edgardo scans the group gathered around the fire. Everyone has settled in their usual spots.
The conspicuous emptiness of certain seats is a stark reminder of their absence.
Edgardo the Masseur: Maich, Cooper, I'm so glad you're still with us.
Maich stands up with a nod, while Cooper blushes behind her swaying skirt.
Edgardo the Masseur: It's been nearly a month since our last get-together, thanks to those tar-bleeding thugs! Oh, their bodies ... They don't deserve my words.
Edgardo waves his hand, as though to banish the discomfort from his thoughts.
Edgardo the Masseur: Because of them, we've lost many dear friends.
Some gaze wistfully into the distance, only to lower their eyes in regret before refocusing on Edgardo.
Edgardo the Masseur: Not only that, but they tried to turn us into their zombies. I can't thank our dear Mercuria and J enough for helping us dodge that bullet. It's thanks to them that we can even be here around the bonfire again.
Edgardo starts to pluck at the guitar in his hands, gently playing a series of monotonous yet poignant tones.
Edgardo the Masseur: To part with friends is to fracture the soul, but life rolls on, and the New Age Market will continue to welcome new faces—its freedom and acceptance will never change.
Edgardo the Masseur: Let us make this gathering a song for a brighter tomorrow—and pay our highest respects to Mercuria and J!
The group's eyes shift to Mercuria. Edgardo's bulky frame makes her look even more petite.
She is swarmed with applause, and a few calls for a speech.
Mercuria: No, there's no need.
Her composed and delicate voice fails to dampen the fervor of the crowd, as the applause and acclamation persist.
Edgardo segues the music into its second phase.
Edgardo the Masseur: We also extend our appreciation to Mr. Legers.
Edgardo the Masseur: He's graciously taken over J's role now that he's off with the Foundation, keeping us safe back in San Fran. He's a big supporter of the market, too.
Eyes scout around for Legers as the clapping and cheering wind down.
Cooper the Healer: Ah, the big guy couldn't make it tonight, huh?
Edgardo the Masseur: That's right, sweetie. Mr. Legers is swamped, busy getting cozy with J's turf to make sure he can keep us safe.
Edgardo the Masseur: He did ask me to send his best, though. Says he hopes tonight's a blast!
The group's inner gloom seems to lift as they catch each other's eyes, affirmed by each other's presence.
But this serene interlude is fleeting.
???: Oops! Sorry!
A timid voice comes from behind them.
???: Excuse me, coming through! Oh, sorry!
Phoebe the Herbalist: Oh!
Dexter the Unlucky One, juggling two buckets of drink, stumbles into view.
Perhaps the load is overwhelming or is obscuring his footing.
As he walks, liquid spills over the sides, like he's some kind of farmer attempting to evenly water his field.
Dexter the Unlucky One: I'm so, so, so sorry. I'm sorry!
Mercuria: Under your right foot.
Mercuria reaches out as she tries to give him a hand.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Oh!
Despite her warning, Dexter's right foot lands squarely on a crystal ball.
Before they know it, he's lying on his back, and both buckets have emptied their contents over the now-smoldering campfire.
The people's ease is extinguished as quickly as the fire.
Cooper the Healer: Hah!
Edgardo the Masseur: It's out? That wasn't booze you brought back?
Maich the Peddler: You unlucky duck ...
The people's concern quickly shifts from Dexter to the campfire. They peer at the blackened wood.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Oh ... I ... must've grabbed the wrong ... Maybe it's someone else's ...
Dexter lies there, dazed, covered in a mix of drink and dirt.
Edgardo the Masseur: Get up, you poor kid.
Edgardo puts down his guitar and guides Dexter over to a crate.
Cooper and Maich get up to look for dry wood.
And those who were doused in the drink return to their stalls to get changed.
Everyone moves so adeptly that it's clear they've done this many times.
Phoebe the Herbalist: Can't we have him do something else?
Phoebe's voice emanates from her tent.
Maich the Peddler: You forget? Last time he set the fire, he nearly burned the whole market down.
Maich responds loudly.
Edgardo the Masseur: And remember the time before that, when he sent those invites to the "Society of Supreme Rationality"? They got out compasses, of all things, to hunt for spirits!
Edgardo the Masseur: "Energy fields, lodestones ... Those are all just smoke and mirrors—totally unscientific."
Edgardo mimics their derisive tone.
In the silence that follows, Dexter can hear the hums and sighs of the people.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Oh, I'm really sorry.
He thumps his forehead with his palm.
Dexter the Unlucky One: I swear, I was paying like 120,000% attention. Mercuria, maybe you could do another purification ritual for me?
Mercuria, still sitting, has already prepared the white sage. The smoke spirals lazily in the air, veiling her gaze.
Mercuria: Please. Come.
Dexter leans over in front of Mercuria. She circles the sage around his head.
Mercuria: "Fire, I request your aid. Disperse the shadows and illuminate our bodies. Earth, I request your support. Preserve and stabilize our energy."
…
A peculiar, serene energy emanates from Mercuria. It gradually intensifies as its rhythm harmoniously synchronizes with the breath of everyone at the camp.
She chants in a low tone while the sage quietly burns.
Mercuria: "Fear not its arrival nor its influence, for it merely exists."
Phoebe returns, her hair still wet, while Cooper and Maich reconstruct the woodpile.
One by one, they reconvene in the plaza, collectively enveloped by Mercuria's aura of tranquility.
Mercuria: "It shall dissipate, taking away your burdens and impurities. From now on, your mind shall be clear, your feet shall be free, and none shall haunt you by any means."
...
The attendees fall into a hushed silence as their collective focus falls on Mercuria.
At this moment, the plaza is as placid as a lake under the glow of moonlight, where the smallest breeze could cause its surface to quiver.
Mercuria: Breathe in ... and out ...
Enveloped by the energy field they've created under Mercuria's direction, the crowd's woes start to dissipate.
Mercuria: Breathe in ...
Time seems to slow down with each passing breath. There is nothing but the gentle sound of distant cars and the occasional chirping of insects.
Mercuria: And out ...
The bundle of white sage has almost burned out, marking the end of the ceremony.
Mercuria: "Do not wander any longer. Feel your feet firmly on the ground. Descend, awaken, and swiftly return to the shore."
Mercuria: …
Mercuria: ...
Mercuria: And that's it.
As the final remnants of the sage descend to the earth, the plaza transitions from tranquility to bustle.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Thank you, Mercuria.
Dexter covers his face in a gesture of piety. Behind him, the fire has been reignited.
Cooper the Healer: It's like the first time we had a bonfire gathering.
Edgardo the Masseur: Let's keep the party going, folks!
He picks up his guitar once more. Cooper and Maich scooch up beside each other to avoid the soaked end of the mat, and Phoebe finds a dry, sandy spot to sit down again.
Embarrassed by the need for everyone to adjust their seats, Dexter deliberately sits a little away.
Mercuria: You're welcome to come closer, Dexter.
Edgardo the Masseur: Yeah, c'mon! Have you forgotten, Dex? This shindig's for you, too!
Dexter gets up, shuffles closer to the fire, then drops back down.
Maich the Peddler: It's cool, Dex. You've been jinxed for so long that we're all used to it by now.
Phoebe the Herbalist: Yeah, you haven't sold any of my exorcism incense in like eight months. I'm getting used to that too.
A ripple of laughter spreads among the crowd.
Phoebe the Herbalist: Oh c'mon! Anyone would've thought they could make a fortune by selling incense at that time!
Edgardo the Masseur: Oh, yeah, times were tough for everyone. No one blames you, Dex.
Cooper the Healer: Eight months ... Poor Dexter, it seems like you're the only one still stuck in the muck.
Edgardo gently pats Dexter's shoulder. Dexter's expression sits somewhere between tears and laughter.
???: Emm ...
A hand slowly rises among the group.
Leah the Aromatherapist: What happened back then?
The group looks toward the voice. It belongs to someone they're not quite familiar with.
Leah the Aromatherapist: I wasn't here back then, so ... sorry ... can I ask?
Edgardo the Masseur: Of course you can, Little Leah.
Edgardo the Masseur: Newbies need to know where traditions come from so they can keep them alive.
Edgardo the Masseur: Now, listen to me.
