“Alright, I give. Why Modder? Why not take Adventurer again—pick back up where you left off? Familiarity could help with regaining your memory,” he suggested. I pretended to consider it before shaking my head.
“I’ve already tried Adventurer once. I don’t like where it landed me. Modder looks perfect for keeping my options open and deciding who I want to be now,” I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile. He rummaged through a drawer of crystals before returning to his control box.
“Modder is a newer design, not very popular. Most people go for something specialized, more in line with their dreams or daily lives. You’ll have more freedom than most, but at the cost of less help from your system. Are you sure you want to take the risk?” he asked. It was an easy question for me.
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s about time I start making my own choices,” I said. Edacien raised his eyebrows. I declined to clarify, so he shrugged and slotted a crystal into the control panel. He told me to lie back in the chair. As I did, a thought occurred to me and I rushed to get it out.
“Uh, is this going to cost anything? I didn’t bring any money,” I said. Edacien laughed, slapping his knee theatrically.
“Money? Ha! But, no, it’s free for you. System integrations are a service the Tower provides to the public, courtesy of the taxpayers of Haylomsha,” he said, pausing before adding, “well, courtesy of the Crown, but where do you think he gets the aether?”
I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, free stuff! On the other hand, they had a king here, and I’d probably need to start paying taxes soon enough. Even in another universe, death and taxes were inescapable. I caught the last part of his answer—the Crown used aether to pay for things—and filed it away for later.
Settling back into the mechanical chair, I braced for the unexpected. Edacien twisted a few knobs, flipped a switch, and then pressed a series of buttons that made crunchy clicks. The apparatus on my chair’s headrest came to life and the faint whooshing sound of liquids filling the tubes returned.
Six brass arms swung into place around my head. Each arm had a loop of silver on the end that was etched with a series of concentric magic circles. Steady blue-green light came from the glyphs and lines. Two of the arms moved until they were almost touching the joint between my spine and skull.
Something inside my head moved. I took in a sharp breath and dug my fingernails into the chair. It wasn’t something physical—not in the normal sense. It was as if the molecules in my head all decided to coordinate and move my body heat around. It started from my spine and followed the two mechanical arms that hovered there.
Soon, the other devices joined the party and there were six different strands of warmth following them in enigmatic patterns. The glowing circles slowly pulled outward and I felt the warmth leave my head. I was getting lightheaded when the machine behind me made a swishing sound and a flood of heat came wiggling and pulsing into me from each of the arms. I shuddered and struggled not to scream.
The rush of energy subsided and the silver loops whirled above me in rapid arcs. The invasive feeling of whatever they were doing before was gone. I breathed out and forced my muscles to relax. The machine continued to twist and braid invisible thread above me.
One by one, the arms finished their frenzied motion and swung back into the headrest until there was only one left. It made loop after loop around my skull, raising up until coming to a stop in the middle of my forehead. With one last arc over to the back of my head, it joined its brethren in the headrest.
A few seconds passed and nothing happened. I looked at Edacien, confused. He had a knowing smile.
“Is that—” I started asking. A blue-green box popped into existence in the middle of my vision and I jumped. It followed my head when I looked around. Text faded into existence in the box.
Modder integration complete. Initialize?
I read the message a few times. There were no buttons or any of the other interface elements I was accustomed to from computers back home. I thought “Yes” at the box and it blinked away. It was soon replaced by another, much larger box.
“Modder” is a general-purpose aether system designed and maintained by volunteers from the Haylomsha Memeticist Society (HMS) and is provided on an as-is basis. It is built upon the HMS Connectivity Core Project (HCCP) with contributions from the HMS GPAS Group (HGG). To report issues with Modder, contact the HMS Public Services Group (HPSG) via memetic interlink or in person at the Haylomsha Academy of Aetheric Studies.
It went on for many paragraphs. It was an EULA, or this world’s equivalent of one. I was flabbergasted. There were some almost-familiar terms sprinkled in a deluge of mystical gibberish. At the bottom, there was a single line separate from the dense jargon above.
Do you accept the risk of using Modder?
It was a simple question. Faced with it, I was suddenly uncertain. Getting a system had seemed so important before. Ester and Basil had taken it for granted that I would get mine “replaced”. Edacien had let me pick whichever one I wanted, but he didn’t even mention the possibility of going without.
Was I making a deal with the devil? I had no idea what the risks were, besides the symptoms of weave damage Ester had told me. I didn’t know what this system did, how it was made, or what the consequences of using it were. On the other hand, this society relied on systems, and I might not be able to get around without one. Would I be able to leave the Tower without help if I didn’t have a system?
I ground my teeth. There was no use in hesitating to do what I had already done. Edacien and the machine had done their job, and now this thing was tethered to my weave—whatever that really was. I swallowed my doubts and sent the box my affirmation. It vanished and was replaced again.
Modder deployment complete. Developed weave detected, scan skills?
I sighed. In for a penny... I agreed and the box blinked away. A faint chill flowed over me, and not from my emotions. Wooziness hit me and I had to blink hard repeatedly to focus my eyes. A torrent of messages popped up one after each other and then collapsed into a small icon at the corner of my vision.
Unknown skill found! Creating workspace...
Unknown skill found! Creating workspace...
Unknown skill found! Creating workspace...
...
Astronomy skill found! Level detected: 44
Cooking skill found! Level detected: 12
Mathematics skill found! Level detected: 82
Medicine skill found! Level detected: 26
Music skill found! Level detected: 65
Strategy skill found! Level detected: 53
...
The pop-ups continued, dozens and dozens of them. The majority of them were the same “unknown skill” message, but a few were familiar to me. Each represented something from my old life. I was glad to see at least some of my skills were recognized. I wouldn’t be stranded as a helpless baby with level 0 in everything. A final message box appeared.
No aether storage devices detected. Skill augmentation aborted.
I acknowledged the message and it disappeared. Gathering myself, I turned to Edacien and asked him what an “aether storage device” was. He picked up a small metal capsule off of the counter and tossed it to me. It was a tall skinny cylinder, about half the size of my little finger. There were magic circles inscribed onto it on both ends.
When I looked carefully at one of the circles, a small blue-green drop icon appeared over it. I mentally poked the icon with curiosity, and it split open and scrolled text between the two halves of the drop.
Small aether storage container (0%)
It was empty. If aether was money here, it made sense that Edacien wouldn’t throw me a full wallet. That led to more questions that Edacien might answer for me.
“What is aether? And where do I get it?” I asked. The older man crossed his arms and leaned his back against the wall.
“Not one for easy questions, are you boy? The short version is that is the energy created by all living things. It is used by the body for almost everything. We make more of it than we need, and the excess naturally is expelled and dissipates,” he explained. It was still murky, but I was starting to form a theory.
“And Mages use aether to do magic, right?” I asked. He nodded and I continued, following my suspicion, “and aether is a blue-green color?”
Edacien rocked his head back and forth in a “so-so” motion, and then clarified.
“Natural human aether is blue-green, and that’s the most common form used,” he said. I shivered as the memory of the aether demon’s purple fire and smoke rose up, uninvited. Edacien collected the different crystals he had been using and placed them in a small metal box.
“As for where you get it, you make it yourself, or someone else does and you trade for it,” he said. I examined the aether container, trying to connect to it. After a few failed attempts, the drop icon wiggled and my system prompted me.
Connect to aether storage device?
I confirmed and a small black bar appeared along the side of the container, and another one flashed into existence on the left side of my field of view. After watching for a few seconds, a tiny sliver of the bars filled with blue-green light and the container ticked up to 1%.
Satisfied, I put the precious device in my pocket. With it out of sight, I could only see the bar in my vision, but it was slowly filling up. It was like a rechargeable battery, but for mystical soul juice instead of electricity. I turned to Edacien.
“Where do the containers come from? Can I use anything to store more aether?” I asked. He shook his head.
“No, aether containment is a delicate art. The standard containers are made here at the Tower. It takes the combined skills of an Artificer, Enchanter, and Memeticist. Systems recognize the arrays and are designed to handle them in specific ways,” he said. He stretched and then popped the crystal out of the black panel on the wall, tossing it to me.
“Are you sure I can’t buy that off you? Fifty mediums is five thousand times that small one,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. I laughed and waved him off. He huffed in fake outrage.
“Stubborn boy. Well, that’s enough questions for one day. If you want an education, apply to join the Tower as an Aspirant, or hire a Mage,” he finished.
I thanked Edacien for all the help. I had a lot to think about. The possibility of joining the Tower and learning magic was enticing and I would have to give it serious thought. We said our farewells and I left through the only door to his lab.
...And came face to face with Ester right outside. She inspected me with a glance and her expression fell into forced neutrality. I took a step back and gave her a searching look.
“You don’t have your memories,” she said without asking. I cautiously nodded.
“Edacien said he couldn’t work on them, something about changes to my weave,” I said, being purposely vague. She wore a bitter smile and stared into my eyes for a few long seconds. Finally, she turned away.
“Why Modder? You don’t want to be an Adventurer now?” she asked, carrying a hint of a complex emotion that I couldn’t read.
“It didn’t end well last time. How did you know I picked Modder?” I asked, confused.
“You’re automatically responding to ID queries,” she said flatly. With her help, I found the system settings menu and switched “ID query response” to “manual”. There were a huge number of options in that menu and I made a mental note to look through them all later.
The system was tied into my brain in elaborate ways and it responded to my intentions. I focused on Ester and tried to identify her. After a short delay, I received a message.
ID failed! Query rejected.
Text appeared over Ester’s head that simply read, “Human”. Ester rolled her eyes and turned on her heel.
“I promised Mrs. Basil I’d take you to Khan Manor,” she said curtly. I stopped her.
“Ester, did I upset you?” I asked, genuinely confused. She ground her teeth and snapped at me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. I bit my lip and gave her some space. She glared at me.
“There! Right there. You aren’t supposed to let me do that! You wouldn’t... My Daivon would never...” she growled, trailing off and holding her head in frustration. My Daivon. My chest tightened and my mouth went dry. She had grown up with him. Some part of her knew, even if she couldn’t put words to it. For a moment, I saw black obsidian and a still form, my hands red. It faded and I looked away from her.
“I’m not him,” I whispered. Her gaze snapped to me and she covered her mouth with her hand. She vehemently shook her head.
“No, Dai, I’m sorry, I’m just...” she said, her eyes glistening. I held up a hand.
“You need to grieve, but the person you lost is walking around and talking to you,” I croaked out. Ester alternated between shaking her head and nodding. There were tears on her cheeks. I pushed off of the wall and took a deep breath.
“If you tell me where to go, I can find my own way to the manor,” I said.
“No, no. I promised Mrs. Basil I’d take you. It—it’s fine,” she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to,” I said.
“I’m sure. I want to do it,” she said with determination. My system pinged me a message.
Connection request from: Mage (Healer) “Ester Batai”
I quickly accepted and a small transparent map appeared in the corner of my vision. Most of it was black, but I was represented by a blue dot in the center. Ester was marked in green. Deep in the black, there was a white dot labeled “Khan Manor”. I looked curiously at Ester. Her eyes were starting to puff up, but she put on a brave face.
“Shall we?” she said, leading me towards the lift.
We left the tower with the weight of our words loitering over us like an attack drone. I distracted myself by playing with my new map. There wasn’t much to see, but I found an “exploration” mode that would add my surroundings to the map as I moved around. The path behind us became unsaturated as it fell out of range. People we passed appeared as small grey dots.
We avoided the busy market, taking narrow streets between rows of buildings. Metal walkways connected rooftops and exits above us. In some places, the buildings had grown out over the street so much that they touched and formed tunnels underneath. Groups of people huddled in the tunnels, standing around metal cans the size of a small keg that felt warm as we passed by.
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I saw something move out of the corner of my eye as we passed an alleyway. I glanced over and caught the back of a long dark grey coat as the figure hurried around the far corner and out of sight. After a few more paces down the street, I remembered to check my map, but the person’s dot had vanished by then. A sense of paranoia swelled up and I scanned the rooflines. Nothing—just the High Inquisitor’s coin as a cold weight in my pocket.
We exited onto a familiar wide road—the same one we had travelled with Basil. There was a group of four men in the blue uniforms, with heavy coats and hats, all casually resting their rifle stocks on the ground beside them. Blue shield icons floated above their heads and marked them on my map. Glad for something to break the tension, I asked Ester about them.
“They’re some of the king’s men,” she said, “they keep the drunks in line and the thieves in fear.”
Translation: cops. It was an odd coincidence that they also wore blue here. I’d visited countries on Earth where the police didn’t wear blue. Was this simply convergent design, or was there more interaction between the worlds than just botched demon summonings? Either way, I decided to stay clear of them. Step two of “the plan” went doubly for the authorities.
One of them eyed me as we passed on the other side of the road. A message with a yellow border popped up.
ID query override received, responding.
I winced, but kept walking. Of course the police could override my settings. Worse, I had an unusual system that was bound to draw attention when people saw it. I hadn’t considered that problem when I picked it. Maybe I should have gone with Mage, Adventurer, or even Musician instead.
They didn’t call out or chase after me, this time. We continued without incident and I let out a small sigh of relief. Ester turned us onto another side street. The white dot marking Khan Manor was a straight shot in front of us.
Halfway down the final stretch, I was struck with a bout of lightheadedness. I missed a step and stumbled, managing to keep on my feet. Ester asked if I was alright, but I wasn’t sure. It was difficult to focus and my mind wanted to wander aimlessly. A red message sprang into existence in my vision.
Danger! Aether low!
I stopped walking and leaned against a building, rubbing the side of my head. A headache blossomed across my whole skull, all at once. I pulled the aether container out of my pocket; it was empty. Checking the side of my vision, I groaned as I realized the bar there had vanished and I hadn’t noticed. It reappeared when I went looking and it was also completely black.
Something was eating all of my aether. An edge of panic was creeping in as I franticly searched through my menus, looking for any power settings or shutoff options. Ester rushed over and I told her what was happening. Her back straightened and the Healer went to work. She reached into her coat and pulled out a metal box the size of two decks of playing card. Handing it to me, she said, “here, connect to this.”
I took it and saw familiar magical markings on the two smaller sides. My system recognized it and allowed me to connect.
Medium aether storage container (100%)
I blew out a sigh of relief as warmth flushed over me and I could think again. My aether bar shot up to almost full. Shaking my head in confusion, I thanked Ester. She talked me through opening a panel that showed everything my system was spending aether on.
Modder core... 2 d/m
ID services... 0.15 d/m
Interlink services... 0.1 d/m
Navigation utility... 136 d/m
The map was using more than sixty times as much aether as the rest of my system combined. Dismayed, I complained about it to Ester. She gave me a flat stare.
“Did you turn on exploration mode?” she asked. I had. Sheepishly, I disabled it. It had seemed so useful, and turning it on didn’t give me any warnings!
Navigation’s consumption rate dropped to 3 d/m. Ester explained that this was short for “drops per minute”. Apparently, the drop was the smallest unit of measurement for aether. I decided to ask about the logistics of that some other time.
Ester took her storage box back, and my bar dropped to nonexistent a moment later. I kept a wary eye on it as we resumed our journey and it ticked up by a sliver a few seconds later. It turned out that my aether disappeared when I used it all. Who could have known? The map no longer filled in my surroundings as we moved into the black, but Ester’s dot moved along with mine.
We arrived in front of a large iron fence. Unlike most of the buildings I’d seen in the city, the one behind the fence was only three stories tall and it didn’t touch the others around it. It stood in the middle of a large lot, with plenty of space on all sides between the main structure and the perimeter fence. The ground was composed of sections of rocks, small pebbles, and sand. Someone had carefully raked the sand with even lines, like dozens of small Zen gardens.
The building itself was built from thick stone bricks that had a dark green marble pattern. Luxurious bronze trim accented the masonry. Thin columns of the same green stone supported a flat overhang above the main doors. The doors and all of the windows were made from bronze and frosted glass which diffused the warm light coming from within.
A path of tight cobblestones led through a gate in the outer fence up to the entryway. A guard wearing dark green sat on a stool under an awning just inside the gate. His lance rested against the stone pylon next to him. He spotted us as we drew near and jumped to his feet.
“Daivon! You’re back! Mrs. Basil told us you’d been found, but you weren’t with her this morning,” he said. I explained our trip to the Tower and my “new” system. His eyebrows rose and I received a message a moment later.
Connection request from: Adventurer (Ranged) “Paul Wiseman”
I accepted and his green dot appeared on the map. He greeted Ester as he slid a metal bar out of the way and swung the gates open. As soon as we stepped across the threshold, yet another box appeared in my vision.
Connection request from: Khan Manor Ward System
Was this... automated security? Rejecting it seemed like a bad idea, so I hastily agreed. A thin grey line appeared on my map, marking the fence on each side of the lot. Comparing it to the explored section of my map, it was clear that the manor grounds could have fit dozens of buildings from other parts of the city.
Ester and I left Paul behind and took the steps up to the doors. Up close, the detail and artistry put into them was even more impressive. I hesitated in front of them, torn between knocking like the stranger I was and walking in like the son I was pretending to be.
I was saved when the doors swung inward and we were greeted by a young woman who was wearing a long skirt the same color as Paul’s uniform and a white top. She curtsied to me with a bright smile and ushered us both in before vanishing through a nearby door.
A short hall opened into a vast parlor, home to a pair of grand stairways leading up to both levels above us. Basil was on the last of the stairs down and I braced for the squeezing that came after she flew over the distance between us. She let me go and then sent me a connection request. I accepted and she adopted a puzzled look.
“Modder? What is that?” she asked. I explained what I knew about it and she beamed.
“Good! I told you that adventuring was too dangerous, but did you listen to your mother?” she pretended to scold me, but I could tell she wasn’t serious.
“Was Edacien able to help with your memories?” she asked, hopeful. I guiltily shook my head and stole a look at Ester. She was determinedly avoiding my gaze. Basil deflated, sorrow evident. The knife in my guts twisted a little bit more. She quickly perked up with false cheer.
“Well, we’ll just have to make some new memories then,” she said. Ester took a few steps back and turned to leave, but stopped. She gulped and then addressed Basil.
“Uh, sorry Mrs. Basil, but my mother told me to tell you, ehem... ‘Your dress last week was hideous’,” she said, turning pink with a wince. Basil chortled before putting on an affronted look.
“Ha! Tell that mother of yours that she has the fashion sense of a blind Stalker and she should burn her wardrobe for the heat!” Basil retorted. Ester covered her forehead with a hand and mumbled something inaudible before saying her farewells and making a hasty exit.
“Just a little joke between Heidi and I, such a lovely woman,” Basil said to me with a wink.
We went on a full tour of the manor. The ground floor had a long dining room and a large kitchen, as well as six small guest rooms. Most of the furniture was metal or stone with cloth padding for chairs, but the table top was made from long wooden planks that were stained a dark red-brown and almost sparkled. Statues and bronze-framed tapestries decorated the walls and corners.
The second floor held servants’ quarters and my favorite room so far—the library. There were black metal bookshelves lining one wall from floor to ceiling. Clear glass panels covered the books and the shelves themselves sparkled with the faint glow of aether. Comfortable chairs and tables were nestled together throughout the room with thin metal privacy screens folded up nearby. In the center of the room, a large cloudy white crystal sat on a green stone pedestal.
Basil explained that this was the manor’s “aether core” and that it provided a link directly to the Tower. That presented interesting possibilities, and a grand dream of a magical internet formed in the back of my mind. At my excited questioning, Basil promised to show me how it worked later. Reluctantly, I followed along as she continued the tour.
The top floor had the family’s rooms and I learned that Daivon didn’t have any siblings. She showed me the door that led to the elder Khans’ rooms and told me not to enter without permission. The tour ended at the entrance to my rooms. Paintings of a hauntingly familiar face flanked the door. They showed Daivon as a child, a teenager, and finally as a young man. In the last two, he had a pistol on his hip.
Basil’s eyes glazed over for a moment. She snapped out of it and abruptly turned to me.
“Your father has just returned! He should see you, right away,” she said, beaming.
We rushed down the stairs and met the man in question on the way in. He was tall and I placed him in his late forties. He had Daivon’s eyes and chin—or Daivon had his. I sent him a connection request.
Connection accepted from: Professional “Saison Khan”
Saison reached out and grasped my forearm. I returned the greeting with as little awkwardness as possible—which was still a lot. He released me and clasped his hands behind his back.
“I’m glad you’re alright, son. Join me in my study?” he said, starting up the stairs. I followed him up and Basil pretended to be busy fussing over a statue.
We passed through the doors to their wing and into a cozy office. A bronze desk sat in one corner with chairs on either side. Iron cabinets and shelves covered the walls. One of the shelves drew my attention like a rocket launch.
It was filled with unlabeled bottles that were sealed with glass stoppers. The liquids inside were colored in every hue of brown and amber imaginable. My breath caught. Could it be? I controlled my growing excitement as Saison took a bottle and two glasses and sat behind his desk, gesturing for me to join him.
He opened the bottle and poured two fingers worth of the liquid into each glass, offering one to me. I took a sip from it at the same time he did. A sweet taste with a gentle burning finish slid down my throat. Whiskey—or close enough. The universe had not completely forsaken me.
“Your mother was worried about you,” Saison said. Another twist in my stomach, not from the alcohol. I grimaced and gave him the abridged version of what had happened with the cultists and at the Tower. He nodded gravely and held an intense silence for several seconds.
“I see you have chosen Modder as a system. I’m not familiar with it, but your mother will be pleased. As will the Batai girl, if I don’t miss my mark,” he said. I took another sip of my whiskey. I wasn’t so sure about Ester’s feelings.
“What do you think about the possibility of me joining the Tower?” I asked him, eager to avoid the other topic. Saison leaned back in his chair and swirled his drink.
“Mage is a long, hard road, son. Most Aspirants never advance. I will support your choices, but be sure it’s what you want and that your choice of system won’t hold you back,” he said.
I took his words to heart. We chatted about our days as we worked on our drinks. He told me that the family owned several steel mills; there had been an issue in “the mine” that he had worked on all day today. The last of our whiskey vanished mysteriously and Saison stood, dusting his hands.
“You should get some rest. You’ve been through quite the ordeal these last few days,” he said.
He led me out of the study and we passed where Basil was sitting on a couch and reading a thin metal tablet. She threw me a gentle smile and Saison closed the door to their wing behind me. I crossed the hall to Daivon’s rooms and stood in front of the door. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and pushed inside.
The door led to a short hallway that fed into the corner of a long room. The front half closest to the entry was a comfortable seating area with couches and tables made from brass and dark green velvet. A pistol laid on the coffee table. I walked over and picked it up.
It was hefty compared to the ones I was accustomed to, weighing more than twice what my old handgun had. It was made from bronze with a steel barrel and had a single post for a sight on the front. There was a glass port just behind the barrel that glowed with aether light. A tiny magic circle was carved into the back of the grip. My system recognized it and an icon of a sword appeared, quickly splitting to reveal text.
Small aether lance (Force, 100%)
I connected to it and a small pistol icon appeared the bottom left of my vision, filled in with blue-green. Testing would have to wait. I’d seen the holes one of these had punched clean through the aether demon. Hopefully I could get some range time in before I needed to use it. I placed it back on the table and looked around.
Past the sitting area, a large bed with dark green drapes rested against the back wall. A pair of privacy screens could be rolled out to divide the two areas, but they were currently folded up. A long knife sat in a sheath atop a chest of drawers next to the bed.
Behind me, another door was cracked open. I poked my head inside. It was a bathroom furnished in brass, including a toilet, a tub, a sink, and...
I closed the door. I didn’t need to be in there right now anyways. One of the chairs in the sitting area looked especially comfortable, so I plopped down and took the opportunity to explore my system more.
The time to myself was exactly what I needed. I scrolled through the settings and menus, finding that I could adjust all of the elements in my view to an absurd degree. Location, scale, apparent distance, timings, triggers—the list went on and on.
I configured my aether bar to always be on when it wasn’t full and to start blinking red when it was under 15%. I further added a pair of indicators above and below it that would tell me when I was gaining or losing aether. Hopefully, nothing like the fiasco with the map would ever happen again.
Discovering the Utilities list was a life-changing event. There were dozens of options. Many of them had enigmatic and terse names, but a couple stood out: Notes, and Lists. I opened the notes utility and it was exactly what I expected. I started writing down everything that had happened to me and that I knew about this world.
I lost myself in the process. Hours passed as I stared off into nothingness and filled in my journal. Writing it all down helped clear my mind and made my situation real. A part of me had just been going along with the madness, assuming it would go back to normal soon. I beat that part to within an inch of its life and told it I didn’t want to see it on my turf again.
A knock at my door interrupted my reflection. I called out for them to enter, and the same maid as before walked in carrying a silver platter. She placed it on the table, curtsied, and left. Dinner had arrived.
It was a warm bread roll with a tiny square of butter and a mushroom soup. The hot savory broth cleared my head of any other thoughts. Before I had time to notice what was happening, it was all devoured. A cloudy drink in a thin glass was the only thing left. I gave it a sniff and got a hint of sweetness. The first quick sip reminded me vaguely of oat milk with extra sugar. Not something I’d normally go for, but I downed it anyway. Waste not, want not.
An uncomfortable truth raised its ugly head. Nature was calling. I glanced over at the bathroom door. It sat there, looming in the shadows. I grit my teeth. I had to face it eventually.
I approached the door, step by step. It was within reach. I needed to raise my hand to open it. Could I? I had to. I did. It swung open silently. I stepped into the gloom beyond.
It was lit by a single overhead aether light. A large frosted window to the outside took up the right wall. I sat on the toilet and ignored everything else. After my business was complete, I saw with horror that there was no toilet paper, but there was a clean cloth on a small pedestal right next to me. My modern self was disgusted by the idea, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t search the rest of the room. Not yet.
Thankfully, the pedestal was actually an enchanted object. There had been a magic circle hidden under the cloth, and when I placed the soiled thing back where I found it, green smoke gently wafted up and the cloth was clean again. I was seriously impressed.
But I was stalling. No one needed to inspect a magical washing machine for that long. I stood and gradually turned to face the... thing.
It was a mirror.
It hung over the sink in a brass frame. I dragged myself over to it, inch by inch, and grabbed the sink with both hands before looking up.
I saw a familiar face. It was displayed on paintings out side these rooms. Young, tall, sharp features, a thin nose, and green eyes. Daivon’s face. Not mine.
A buzzing sound filled my ears and the edges of my vision went red. My breaths came face and short as I stared into the mirror and watched a stranger stare back. A drop of blood beaded from his nose. I was transfixed and watched it slide down his cheek and cling to the edge of his jaw. It fell—and my world fell with it.
My dinner didn’t taste as good the second time. I came to, propped up against the toilet. I had blacked out. An angry red box was rapidly blinking in the center of my vision, demanding I acknowledge it.
Memetic anomaly detected! Weave instability found!
I mentally flicked the message away. Tell me something I don’t know. I stayed there for a long time. At some point, the light clicked off on its own. I still didn’t move. Breathing and recovering were all I could manage.
A faint sound came from the other room. Jolted from my morass, I lifted my head from the toilet and listened. Another scraping sound. I crawled over to the door and cracked it open.
The room outside was dark; all the lights had turned off there too. The ambient glow coming from the windows was enough to make out the silhouette of a person standing by the bed and an open window behind them.
Realization sucker-punched me. Daivon had gone missing from his room at night without a trace. I was here alone, at night, and now there was someone sneaking into the room.
It was the cult, it had to be. They were here to recapture me after the first cell flubbed the summoning—or kill me so I couldn’t talk. How did they climb up to the third story? And get past the gate and security system?
It didn’t matter. They were here, now, and I had no way to call for help. I could try to run for it; the door wasn’t that far away. If they had a gun, they’d have an easy shot at me down the short hallway.
The gun! My gun was on the table. Maybe I could get to it before they turned and saw me. The figure was crouched down and looking under the bed. I took the chance and opened the door enough for me to fit through. It didn’t betray me and swung just as silently as last time.
I padded one step at a time into the sitting room. The icon of the gun was just a little farther in front of me. The figure rose and their head snapped towards me. I rushed forward to grab the gun and they started running towards me. A hint of metal in their hand glinted in the dim light.
I got there first. The gun was up and pointed at them before they could reach the couch. They froze.
“Drop the weapon! Drop the weapon!” I yelled at them. They didn’t move, but the device in their hand lit up and bathed the room in aether light.
It was a woman with long straight black hair, wearing a dark grey coat. She was young—a couple years younger than Daivon—and would have been pretty if she wasn’t so emaciated. She wasn’t holding a knife and didn’t look like one of the cultists, but my finger stayed on the trigger.
“Who are you, how did you get in here?!” I demand. The woman trembled, her mouth opening and closed before she mustered the courage to speak.
“Daivon! It’s... it’s me!” she pleaded. Her eyes were locked onto mine—desperate, searching.
“It’s Layla!”