In the morning, Mortigus walked down to the floor level, only to find the hut empty. Opening the door, he could see Arbero standing hunched over in the same spot as last night. Mortigus threw a greeting but received no response. Instead of waking them up, Mortigus decided to quickly scout the area to better familiarise himself with it. Nothing of notice could be found; the dense trees offered pretty good cover, and the grass had signs of critters such as rabbits or boars poking around. The forest was in a pristine condition, perhaps humans hadn’t ventured into these parts. Despite that, Mortigus preferred to be careful. The travellers in his old territory could nevertheless reach this area sometime. “Arbero was waiting outside the forest, could they have sensed me in some way through that mycelium? And they were ready to face human hunters. Things aren’t adding up,“ inferred Mortigus.  

  As he returned to the hut, a quick shock went to his feet. As he got closer to the abode, he could see Arbero heading towards him. Arbero started lightly berating Mortigus for leaving without saying a word, but shook it off and asked him to join him for meditation. Mortigus, though confused, accepted the offer. As weird as it was, he was reminded of his mother for a second. The two moved to a grass patch encircled by toadstools, where Arbero hinted with their tentacle that they should sit down. As Mortigus entered the circle, an unsettling tingle came over him. Suddenly, a sharp sting pierced his left hand. Only two fingers were attached, green blood oozing out of the jagged, remaining half of his hand, a slashing wound. Pain was dulled by shock, but fear erupted inside him. Mortigus’ green eye flickered from left to right, almost darting out of his skull, as he couldn’t focus in any direction. His legs were close to giving out with each erratic step backwards, leading him outside the toadstool ring. Mortigus let out a confused scream, expelling some of his panic. Arbero leaned backwards for a second before raising two of their tentacles and shouting: 

 “Mortigus! Calm down! Why are you panicking?“

  Mortigus slowed his breathing, his torso making more regular, long inhales. He looked again at his cut hand and the blood dripping weakly. Arbero’s eyes narrowed and then explosively expanded as they stepped towards Mortigus.

 “Oh, I can't believe I overlooked this, but try to remain calm, please!“

“Don't move an inch!“ exclaimed Mortigus while gasping for air. “You just cut my fingers off; why? Why would you do that?“

 Mortigus managed to take a more proper stance, but despite his emerald glare, Arbero did not back down. The grass around them quivered with the surge of budding magic, Mortigus adopting an aggressive stance as spores began to form at the tips of his right hand’s fingers.

“I thought you were used to small injuries already. You were even ready to sacrifice your own leg back then! I don't get why you're panicking.“

“Small injury? A half of my hand is cut off; I can’t even get the wound to close with Essence!“ responded Mortigus in a distressed tone, while Arbero stayed flustered. 

“It won’t heal if you don’t focus yourself! Did you not train your regeneration?“ 

 “I did, producing cuts and then repeatedly healing them. I did it again and again on my own, but that’s no excuse to just slice someone’s hand off with no warning?!“ 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you were used to it. I forgot humans don’t have such practices, let alone regeneration like mycolians,“ insisted Arbero while their body language was erratically trying to get Mortigus to loosen up. In response, Mortigus wound began closing as he took on a more composed but resentful tone:

 “Never make a move like this again! And couldn’t you even ask first? You know how clueless I am?!“
“I swear it was an honest mistake; most mycolians are subject to regeneration training at a young age; mushroom rings were always a place for meditation and self-regeneration. I forgot it just isn’t common knowledge for humans.“
Despite the strident tone, Arbero’s eyes were pulsing with a doleful look, their body retreating inward and away from Mortigus, slowly and minutely. From a racing heart to an alert, apprehensive mind ready to give its all to survive, Mortigus was torn apart. The little trust built last night was about to be cut like a pair of fingers; the only strand maintaining it was remorse. The pull of solitude whispered of safety, running from the unhinged being before him. Though he did not dart away yet.
  “Glossing over your madness, what even happened? What cut me? I didn’t see any blades in your home,“ asked Mortigus apathetically. 

  “I’m sorry, truly. You’re not wrong, I don’t really use bladed tools,“ admitted Arbero, their voice clearly picking up on the justified standoffish remark. “As you know, Essence can alter your own body, such as in healing, but it can also harden it, briefly turning it into a weapon, like this:“ Arbero raised a leg parallel to their body as brief shimmers of tangerine light appeared at the tip before the leg suddenly turned into a spearhead. Arbero rotated it twice before turning it back into the mushy leg it was before. Mortigus was weirded out by the transformation, but his nerves calmed down. With a better hold of himself, he focused his Essence on his hand, the wound fully closing as rough textures sprouted in the place of his fingers. 

 “Even though I know I can heal from even losing an arm, you cannot just harm me out of nowhere, Arbero! You either understand it now or never!“

 “I’ll say it once more; I won’t repeat my mistake! Let’s just sit down and talk. Or I can leave you alone.“ responded Arbero with nervous words. 

 “It’s enough if we keep a few meters between us,“ retorted Mortigus, reapproaching the mushroom ring. With small reservations, he sat down onto the frenzy of grass still active from the earlier surge of Essence. Arbero awkwardly stared at Mortigus, trying to wrap their head around how to ease the tense atmosphere. They sat down as well, keeping some distance, while Mortigus’ watchful eye kept track of even the tiniest muscle spasm or movement. The two did not talk for a few minutes, until Mortigus finally cut the tension:
“I’d like to ask about yourself. I can’t trust you if I don’t understand things better. “

 “I understand where you’re coming from, and I’m more than willing to answer all I can.“ said Arbero in a collected tone. 

 “You’ve been in this forest for a long time, haven't you? You said you’re <<a thousand years-old>>, and though I can’t truly grasp the scale of that, I wanna know how you ended up living here. What happened all this time?“
  Arbero sighed promptly and blinked a couple times, setting aside their hesitations, answering Mortigus’ request in a somewhat forced, cheerful tone:
“After so long, I should make for a good history book at least. Yes, I am around a thousand years old—only a few decades older than the Wonder Wall itself. A milenia ago, it was the first time I ever entered a human country. Guess I never managed to leave it since then. I was accompanying my, I suppose you could say, <<parent>>, who was on a diplomatic convoy meant to discuss the terms between the human kingdoms and the mycolian kingdom, not that I can remember the details. We were making our way on the stone trails when suddenly we felt a terrible magic surge through the ground and air, as if our every cell vibrated with rigour and intent. Eyes wide, we scanned the horizon for the source of the phenomena, halting in silence as we struggled against the urge to flee. For a radius enough to cover all the major human countries, a ring of radiance rose from the ground up and touched the sky. We felt as though the ground lifted beneath us, only to drop us clumsily back into place. And then, with utter silence and stillness, no sound or gesture could describe that moment. The Essence in our own bodies fluctuated like cups spilling over, and we could tell our connection to the Mushroom Forest was cut off, or better said, obstructed, with only a phantom feeling left. Once the panic settled, we sought out the nearest settlement and found out others witnessed the event too—the rise of the inexplicable and intangible Wonder Wall. Later, we came to understand that the few non-human sentient beings residing in human realms—my diplomatic group included—had been left stranded on the human side of the Wonder Wall.

 “You were alive when the Wonder Wall appeared? I didn’t even think there was an era where the Wall didn’t exist,“ interrupted Mortigus. “And other beings?“

  “Yes, and I do feel like an old man when you say it like that. My kind, mushroom-folk, are but one group of the many sentient creatures on this planet, and that used to live in a fragile harmony with humans. Returning to my recounting, we were indeed trapped in the human realm. No communication was possible between the sides, as if they were no longer part of the same planet or reality. Many theories on the human side arose. With no solid proof, people began selecting the theories that best suited their own suspicions. Most human countries were looking for a culprit, a target to blame for the Wonder Wall. While sentient beings of different species weren’t on the best terms, they still engaged in trading of goods, research, and manpower, which left the human side lacking significant resources lost to the other side of the Wonder Wall. This led to an economic crisis that only fed the fire of chaos, with human countries growing divided in how to tackle this new era. Unfortunately, people began to be overworked, desperate, and guideless. Some lost family members over the wall; others their lives’ work. Non-humans were suffering the most, of course, being absolutely detached from the world they once knew, but humans struggled as well. With the false promise to regain the stability of the old world, a few groups pinned the blame on the stranded non-humans for erecting the Wonder Wall, pretending that killing these non-humans would undo it. “

 “So humans took you for scapegoats. What was the cause of the Wall then?“ asked Mortigus.  

 “No one knew, and I don’t know to this day,“ remarked Arbero. “Though the majority of the population disagreed with or doubted these groups’ claims, they were preoccupied with survival and rebuilding after the turbulent revolutions that took place. While attention was diverted, the radical factions began hunting us and other non-humans, driving us out of most human settlements. A century passed; human cities and villages were slowly gaining stability, only to lose it again due to social unrest. These factions, ignored at first, had gained more power and influenced the social perception of the non-humans, while infiltrating the nobility and calling themselves Hunters. Reduced to hunting trophies, we knew we couldn’t survive near humans anymore.  

   The non-humans had gathered in woodlands and mountains, trying to protect each other from the new kingdom that formed, the Hunters Kingdom. Issues arose as the tragedies of the huntings deeply scarred our communities, many non-humans growing to resent humans. New initiatives to fight the human countries were dismissed by many as a suicide mission; others felt it was the only way to assert a way of living. In-fighting became a major issue: cyclops, who looked the most similar to humans out of all other species, were targeted for this reason and called potential traitors, <<the most likely to side with humans and betray the others to protect themselves>>. Cyclops were pushed away from sanctuaries and forced to attempt to hide in human society by covering most of their faces and prominent features. They had a hard time assimilating, especially as many were killed if they were found out. Thankfully, a few cities and villages became their safe havens, as the human population there accepted them as fellow citizens, keeping their identities secret. 

 Mushroom-folk like me and tree nomads had the advantage of blending well into the woodlands. And yet, our numbers dwindled as the hunters ruthlessly continued to pursue us and burn the woods we sheltered in. 

 The rest of the non-humans would have a difficult time hiding, and any attempt to fight for their rights ended up thwarted. Humans neglected us, killed us, and slowly forgot us, while most areas started treating us as simply fables. Cyclops would retain their refuge only by avoiding the attention of nobility, but the rest of non-humans would ultimately isolate themselves. Years passed, leaving me alone, moving between forests for safety, with the human world around me creeping in.“

 “And so you currently live here,“ deduced Mortigus. “I’m sorry you had to live this way. I didn’t know humans ever did that.“

 “Don’t worry, Mortigus, you have no fault in this. Humans acted in panic and fear and chose to stop trusting us. And look, after all the torches and swords that made us bleed, the Wonder Wall is still there, the cage that pushed us into the mouth of humanity’s worst monsters. Now you know, the moment we first met, if I strongly believed you were a hunter, I would have killed you.“ Arbero said morbidly, a quiet fury escaping their tone. Mortigus flinched at the remark, but he found Arbero’s feelings justified. The bloodshed that a thousand years can hide could only leave a deep well of regrets and distaste for the humans that now didn’t even know mushroom folk existed. They both took a pause in silence before Arbero resumed:

  “Nothing major happened to me in the last century, though I do remember hearing about the incident of a doctors’ cabin burning up," Arbero fractured their thought. “I had thought it happened 70 years ago, as heard from a last group of travellers.“

 “Wait, what the hell are you implying, Arbero?“

 “It might’ve been 60 or 70 years since your escape, Mortigus.“ 

“But it can’t be. I know I didn’t count my years precisely, but the leap from 30 to 70 years is ridiculous! Are you sure you’re remembering things right?” cried Mortigus, springing himself up and leaning aggressively towards Arbero.

“I’m sorry, but I’m almost sure it’s the right incident. The confusion might be due to your hibernation cycles.“ Arbero said hesitantly. 

“I counted those too! As best as I could! It was just a few winters when I was still getting used to this body.“ said Mortigus, his tone rising.

 “Mushroom folk do hibernate, but only once or twice in their life. A mixture of hibernation and metamorphosis that-“

“ Meta-what?” said Mortigus in a confused voice. “You're making less and less sense.“

 "Metamorphosis is basically a process through which your body undergoes radical changes in a short time. But in the case of mycolians, it’s a way of transitioning into adulthood. Dedicating a whole year to hibernation, the body changes, mostly internally, allowing Essence to form better tissues and... it may take well over an year.“