One companion travels with you at a time. Its growth follows the words you recall correctly and the different stages you clear together.
Every released companion has three evolution stages. Its first form is always visible; the second and third remain hidden until unlocked. Different rarities have different growth requirements, shown on the companion’s profile. Replaying known material helps with practice, but each distinct word and cleared stage counts once towards that companion’s growth.
Growth is kept when you change companions or take a break. Evolving is your choice once the requirements are met.
It knows every little path through the clouds, and remembers the trust of its friends.
A young Windfeather Bird that loves pears and letters from faraway places. It can carry letters and twine across small gaps, but cannot carry people on its back. Now it wants to complete its very first great voyage with you.
On the forest path, it walks alongside the slowest friend.
The small mushroom on its back glows softly in the damp air. It knows every path across the mossy ground, and always pauses before turning corners to wait for the slowest friend to catch up.
It remembers every single friend's voice when they head home.
It never collects precious gemstones, only the very first 'hello' each friend ever said. The little copper bell on its chest grows warmer and warmer from all those greetings.
Hide the words you haven't finished saying inside a pearl.
When the tide pulls back, it tucks the seashells on the beach in snugly. Inside that pearl lies a tiny piece of the sea it saved just for you.
Guard one small cluster of warmth on your cold journey.
The fire on its tail never burns its friends. It walked alone through endless long winters, so it cherishes every night spent travelling together more than anything.
Find your lost way home using the star tracks on its antlers.
People think it can see the future. In truth, it simply waits patiently for its friends at every single crossroads.
Its fine scales reflect the starry galaxy as it travels far along the familiar warm current.
It migrates along warm, moist air currents, its tiny scales glinting against the night sky. Observers have drawn the exact same tail fin pattern on islands thousands of miles apart, and realised it has sailed an incredibly long route.
It unpicks nightmares into threads and weaves them into warm new cloaks.
It never chases your sadness away, it just sits quietly right beside you. When you're ready, it sews those tears together to make the brightest stars in the night sky.
Once you learn to listen, even thunder can sound like a lullaby.
The fine fur on its crown stands up the moment a thunderstorm is coming. It has practiced soft, gentle rumbles, and waits for the rest of the party by the high cliffs, never hurrying anyone to take a risky shortcut.
On the morning the aurora rises, it spreads its great wings wide across the sea of clouds.
It searches the high skies for warm currents perfect for resting, and uses its broad wings to shield younger spirits from the wind. It has seen countless tiny islands that no map has ever marked.
It travels the familiar old mail routes year after year, accompanying friends to set out on new journeys once more.
Every year after it moults, it walks every familiar old mail route again. It can't turn back time, but it will happily accompany any hesitant friend to try starting over one more time.
Its little backpack holds the wish to find its way home.
It carries its old pack, painting all the sights it sees along the way on the edges of its cloth map. After reuniting with its family, it realises it has one more wish: to share its new friends' stories and explore even further away.
It moves slowly, but places every parcel perfectly steady.
It lives on the windowsill of the harbour post office, and its shell looks like a stack of curled-up letters. The postmaster gave it a soft wooden tray, so every day it carefully carries letters waiting to be posted over to the counter.
It loves most of all adding new little stories to old, well-loved things.
Soft curly fur grows on the tips of its ears, and fine threads often stick to it when it runs through flower beds. It helps the tailor hold yarn spools, and when mending a traveller's old backpack, it always asks which piece of fabric they want to keep.
It always leaves one extra space for a plate.
Its smooth shell looks like glazed celadon pottery, with little patterns growing along the edges. Crew members set light plates on its back with soft pads, and it walks slowly to every table, waiting for everyone to sit down before the meal starts.
It remembers the very last seed that sprouted in the whole garden.
The little bud on its tail only sips one tiny drop of morning dew each day. The gardener asks it to watch over the young seedlings, and it spins round happily when a new leaf unfurls – but it never hurries a seed to grow faster.
It answers every familiar friend with a different beat.
The translucent fins on its neck flutter gently with the current. The people of Baybell Cove sing welcome songs beside the shallow canals, and it swims in time with their rhythm; if it hears a melody it doesn't know, it learns it slowly, note by note.
It knows the harbour winds, and never forgets the promise you made before you set sail.
The crest on its head looks like a soft white sail, and its long wings glow with golden threads in the sunset. It accompanies airships on the familiar routes close to the harbour, and when they reach unknown cloud banks, it stops and waits for the captain to confirm the route again.
It is happy to sit with you while you read that page you missed.
The edges of its feathers feel like soft book pages. When the library closes, it picks up bookmarks that have fallen on the floor and tucks them back into the correct spot – it never writes answers in old books without permission.
Return to the same stone every day, to see how far the shadow has moved.
Its dorsal fin looks like a row of tiny sundials. It likes to sunbathe in the same fixed spot, and observers use a marked board to record the shadow beside it — that way they can confirm two observations were really taken at the exact same time.
The most reliable trick is to work out where you are standing first.
The tiny crystal cluster on its nose is very sensitive to magnetic stones in rock layers. It will stop in familiar mine tunnels to get its bearings, but once on a new island, you still all need to check signposts and a compass together.
Change your angle, and even familiar colours will look brand new.
When sunlight shines through its thin wings, it leaves light spots of every different colour. Mia drew two observation sketches, one from the front and one from the side — only then did they realise the colour changes didn't mean the butterfly had got a whole new pair of wings.
It knows its flockmates' tail feathers, and will wait for friends that fall behind.
Every one of their forked swallow tails has a bright, distinct white spot. Travellers once only wrote down 'blue bird' in their notes — but when they drew the tail feathers and wing shape together, they finally could tell exactly which flock had passed the observation station.
Listen carefully to someone else's rhythm first, then send your own reply.
Its long neck feathers let its calls carry huge distances. It practises the ship-greeting melody with the dock musician, and sometimes hits the wrong note too! Old recorded calls still need to be checked against dates, locations, and local residents' notes to confirm where they came from.
Starlight glints on its scales, like a slowly unfolding night sky.
On clear dark nights, it glides along high-altitude warm air currents, its thin scales reflecting every star. Observers far away record the exact time and position it passes, and at last they have night navigation data they can compare with each other.
It will weave threads of every different colour into the same little flag.
It has eight short, deft legs, and loves to spin fine webs over an empty frame. The flag bearer passes it all the coloured threads everyone chose, then a tailor sews the edges strong — so the team flag can fly fully spread in the wind.
It always leaves a soft, cosy mat for every new friend who arrives.
The long fur on its back looks like a fluffy little tent. It loves to sweep all the dry leaves at the campsite into a soft pile, then steps back to let shyer companions pick exactly where they want to rest.
Right after a rain shower, the familiar little chorus starts ringing out by the lake.
The transparent vocal sac under its throat looks exactly like a round dewdrop. It often returns to the same patch of reeds during migration season, and recorders write down the weather and date — so they can compare the exact time it visited every year.
Its soft gentle glow lets nearby friends know everyone is still close by.
The tiny light sac on the end of its antenna glows extra softly in damp air. The crew use pre-agreed flags and calls to confirm their berth — it only lights up the short stretch of walkway right beside you, so everyone can see exactly where to step.
Before leading the way, it always looks back to check where its friends want to go.
Its light striped curved horns are easy to spot. It knows every ramp in the Transit Town well, and likes to wait with travellers at the service station; when it reaches an unfamiliar fork in the road, it will still stop to check the route card.
It patrols every stretch of warm current, and always makes way for migrating travellers.
It circles above the outer edge of resting areas, reminding familiar sailors that young spirits are nearby. The actual detour route is decided together by residents, observation teams and the captain.
Like a sail unfurling in the morning sun, it walks with the ship towards the next leg of the journey.
It glides along the warm currents near the outpost, its broad wings reflecting soft swirling rainbows. It will approach travellers who keep their promises, but there is no city on its back, and it is not the giant migrating spirit that carries the Island of a Thousand Tales.
No account needed for the opening story and stage 1.