Purifying Jygglkin

The rain hadn’t stopped since I’d arrived, and I was starting to suspect it had personal issues with me specifically. This wasn’t the gentle Scottish drizzle I’d dealt with before - this was a constant, drumming downpour that turned the entire jungle into one massive, living waterfall. There was so much life here that every leaf dripping, every branch creaking, every insect buzzing created this incredible symphony that would have sent anyone with normal hearing running for the nearest set of earplugs.

When The Umberglow Atelier had cheerfully sent me back out for “another variety” of Jygglekin, I’d been genuinely surprised. There were more of the little magical things scattered around the world? But they’d been absolutely insistent - apparently there were reports of similar creatures in Southeast Asian rainforests, potentially with completely different properties worth investigating for their ever-expanding product line.

I’d been conflicted, honestly. I still had this persistent knot in my stomach from the last expedition, like guilt had taken up permanent residence somewhere between my ribs.

But here I was anyway, trudging through ankle-deep swampy water while getting thoroughly drenched by nature’s most enthusiastic shower. The jungle felt alive in a way that was both absolutely magnificent and completely overwhelming - every single surface was covered in moss, fungi, or flowering vines that seemed to pulse with their own inner rhythm. I could see shimmer-patterns dancing in the humid air, everything here glowing faintly with life energy, which made distinguishing potentially significant magical signatures from background jungle magic about as easy as finding a specific raindrop in a hurricane.

Despite the challenging conditions, I had to admit it was pretty exciting. And bonus points: this cloak Dravendir had given me apparently had some serious waterproofing enchantments, because I wasn’t getting wet at all! Made trekking through this soggy paradise infinitely more comfortable than it had any right to be.

The sounds here were absolutely incredible - bird calls that seemed impossibly musical, the distant crash of falling branches that sounded like percussion sections, and underneath it all, the constant whisper of growing things that probably shouldn’t have been audible but somehow was - at least to me.

Then, last night, I found them.

I was setting up camp in a relatively dry spot beneath a massive strangler fig, when suddenly I could feel those familiar shimmers in the air sharpen to laser focus. Through all the rain and jungle noise, I caught something that made my heart do a little skip - something I’d only sensed once before, in a hollow Scottish tree that I was trying very hard not to think about.

I left my gear under the relative dryness of the fig tree and followed the sensation through dense undergrowth, my magical cloak catching on thorns and vines but somehow managing not to tear - seriously, I needed to thank Dravendir properly for this thing. The closer I got, the stronger that feeling became. The stasis powder was tucked in the same pouch as before, and my hands clenched involuntarily at the thought of using it again.

Then I pushed through a curtain of hanging roots and found them.

Jygglekin, unmistakably, but somehow wonderfully different from their Scottish cousins. These glowed with warmer light - slightly golden this time - and moved in slower, more fluid patterns around a massive sprouting of wild turmeric plants. The bright orange flowers seemed to actually respond to their presence, opening and closing in perfect rhythm with their dance like some sort of botanical choreography. Rain streamed down absolutely everything, but the Jygglekin danced effortlessly between the droplets, apparently too small and magical to get properly wet.

I stood there for a long moment, just watching and trying to memorize every detail. They were just as beautiful as the ones I’d captured before, just as clearly magical, just as obviously part of something infinitely larger and more important than themselves. My hand moved unconsciously toward the stasis powder pouch, muscle memory kicking in before my brain could catch up.

Then I stopped dead.

I honestly don’t know what changed in that exact moment - maybe it was the memory of those dimmed lights falling to the Scottish forest floor like tiny broken stars, or maybe just the sudden, crystal-clear realization that there absolutely had to be another way to do this. Instead of reaching for the powder that would freeze them mid-dance, I took a slow, deliberate step forward with my hands completely empty.

The Jygglekin noticed me immediately but didn’t flee like startled birds. They hovered in place, their graceful dance slowing as they seemed to genuinely consider my presence, like they were having some sort of magical committee meeting about what to do with the strange human who’d wandered into their private party.

I took another careful step, then another, until I was close enough to see the intricate patterns of light that played across their translucent forms.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t entirely sure if I was apologizing to them or to their Scottish cousins who were probably now ingredients in someone’s skincare routine. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Something shifted in the humid air around us - a sense of acknowledgment, perhaps even understanding, like they could somehow sense my intentions had changed completely. The Jygglekin began moving again, but their dance had transformed into something entirely different. Instead of the wild, joyous patterns I’d witnessed before, they moved with deliberate, almost ceremonial purpose, spiralling slowly downward toward the turmeric plants like they were performing some ancient ritual.

As I watched in complete amazement, they began to merge - not disappearing or dying, but somehow flowing into the plants themselves. Each golden light touched a turmeric root and was gently absorbed, leaving behind a faint, warm glow that pulsed through the orange stems.

Within minutes, their dance was complete. The Jygglekin were gone, but the turmeric plants… they practically hummed with residual magical energy. I could feel something extraordinary thrumming in their cellular structure, as if the fairy essence had transformed them at the most fundamental level imaginable.

I knelt in the warm mud and carefully harvested several of the roots. These weren’t just ingredients I’d taken by force - they were genuine gifts, freely given instead of stolen from creatures who deserved so much better than being reduced to cosmetic components.

The journey back to Umberglow Atelier felt completely different this time. Instead of guilt sitting like a lead weight in my pack, I carried something that actually felt like hope. The artisans were initially puzzled by my empty creature containers and my somewhat manic insistence that everything was perfectly fine, but when they analyzed the turmeric roots, their excitement became absolutely infectious.

“Exceptional doesn’t even begin to describe it,” one of them told me, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "The Jygglekin essence has completely transformed the entire root structure!"

Within days, they’d created “Purifying Jygglekin” - gummies that promised detoxification and inner cleansing, glowing with the same luminous quality as the original product but somehow purer, more harmonious, like the difference between a forced smile and genuine laughter.

And this time, absolutely no magical creatures had been captured for our progress.

I keep thinking about that moment in the rain when I chose to approach with open hands instead of prepared weapons, when I decided to trust instead of take. The Jygglekin could have easily fled into whatever magical realm they’d originally come from. Instead, they chose to trust me with their gift, to become part of something that would help people in a completely different way.

I’m starting to think there’s definitely more than one way to gather the world’s wonders. Sometimes - maybe even most of the time - the respectful approach yields far greater treasures than force ever could. And honestly? It feels so much better than going to sleep knowing I’d turned living magic into inventory.

Maybe that’s what Dravendir’s been trying to teach us all along.

— Sana​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​