Chương 142: Act 2, Chapter 94: What’s real and what’s not?

23rd December (Tuesday), past noon They forced me to wait inside the bubble of their Domain projection, meddling with the state of my emotions and my mind—enforcing me to feel at peace and obedient at the same time, while my truly independent minds worked in overdrive to assess the situation and come up with a solution. Teleportation was out of the question, barred by the power that rooted me in place.

At the same time, I truly believed that it wasn't killing that the god meant, and even if it was, I was far too useful for Joan to be disposed of so easily. What came closer and closer, as the amount of people and creatures in front of the tower thinned while they moved inside, was a battle where words were swords, attitudes shields, and intentions battle plans. And that was something I felt I had a chance to come out of unscathed, despite the obvious age difference and the experience that came with it.

Where they had experience, though, I responded with talent, hoping it would be enough. In the meantime, I knelt to touch the forget-me-not that rose from the ground, encouraged by nature manipulation. Its blue petals were soft and very real in a physical sense of existence, and yet I knew well enough now that as soon as the pretense of power was dropped and the veil that separated this small bubble of land from the rest of the universe dissipated, so would that little flower. Was it a message to me?

There weren't that many easily recognizable flowers with names that could be sentences, or orders even. And so far, Joan seemed precise in their control.

"We always liked them," they said, with full control of the sound. It was melodious and calming, like the wind rustling leaves overhead in a forest clearing, when one feels fully connected to nature. And it wasn't simply a metaphor I conjured to convey the message—it was the image that the tone evoked in my biological brain.

"Why would I forget you?" I answered, looking for a hook—a weakness in the barricade of emotions they cared so much not to let through.

"You think of it that way?" they asked, lowering themselves to me, kneeling down and picking another of those flowers from the ground to study it in their hand. The last of the Shattered were being hauled inside—those who had been kneeling just like we two were minutes ago. Assigned guards moved them along.

"Why are those of your people treated that way?" I asked instead of answering. It was necessary—a conscious choice to throw them off guard now that the hook was in. They needed to feel the urge to be answered, while I led them elsewhere. Forced waiting is always a good way to push someone into investment. Besides, I also wanted to know what was happening here.

"They, just like us, didn't believe Jason was the right person to join our family," they replied without additional manipulation. Pushing serenity into my mind continued as the only state drilled into me.

"So naturally, they are suspected of having something to do with what happened."

"I see. Why didn't you want him?"

"Because of you."

"Me?"

"Or rather the reason for his unevenness. Love unreciprocated, and everything that spiraled out of it. We believe that's the worst reason to choose someone over. It's always messy and rarely allows one to ever reach the state of being whole again."

"Too dependent on factors beyond one's control?"

"Well put, Alexa," they replied, looking into my eyes. I took the chance, willing to show myself and understand their powers better.

"Resonant gaze?" they replied, shutting my attempt down. I didn't even know one could do that.

"Believe us when we say this—you don't want to look into that abyss. It might look back at you." A response confirming that I wasn't going to the gallows just yet, otherwise they'd satisfy curiosity. Not letting me see them left me uneasy, not knowing what exactly I was up against, a leverage left to abuse later. And later rarely comes after someone is dead.

"I was just curious."

"We know, but now is not the time. Walk with me." A surge of obedience pulsed right through my cerebellum and I joined, trailing behind them. As we moved, so did the sphere around them—ever-changing the environment in a quick cascade of growth in front of us and absolute disappearance of nature behind. Things returned to what they were before, as if nothing had happened, as soon as their Domain left them, and the forget-me-nots soon too became just a memory.

"Why did we wait for all of them to enter the tower? We could have moved before."

"Custom. It was polite to do. So is answering a question."

"Wasn't it your intention? To show me those flowers? Is something going to happen to you?" They stopped between the trees in full spring bloom, raising a hand to meet the leaves and flowers that sprouted between them, then turned back to me.

"You really don't fear for your own safety after what has been said? After what you've seen?" Obedience followed the question. I was supposed to answer truthfully.

"I am," I lied instead.

"How could I not be?"

"Don't be. Our god knows us as someone cold and calculating, but we aren't just that. All I wanted was to talk before I let you go. You won't remember much of it, but what you say is important to us."

"I won't remember?" I played along to the tune of their song.

"Was that the reason behind the flower?"

"A subtle touch. A reminder, perhaps."

"You can erase my memories," I stated the fact.

"Yes. It's not something we enjoy doing, but it's often necessary in cooperation." Fuck that shit. Is that what they were telling themselves to sleep or drift better? It was mind rape in its purest form. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"What do you want from me, then?"

"We considered you meddling in this calamity. You fit what happened perfectly in our minds, and yet you surprised us by denying our accusation in front of our god."

"We did talk over the phone. What other answer did you expect?"

"Anything else—but indeed, we talked, which means there is another actor at play here, someone from the Shattered our god doesn't recognize—""Is that even possible?" I interrupted them.

"Yes. Some places operate independently from their watchful eye, and in those, new Shattered are reborn too. We wonder, then, if that indeed was one of them, and if so, what was their agenda here. Or, if it wasn't, how could they enter the tower and move through it without any issues?" I bet that they finding out it was teleporting that got the Shattered into that building would not work in my favor, so I had to be extra careful with what I was saying now.

"I understand, Joan, but what does it have to do with me, besides being centered around Jason? What information do you want from me? You know well enough that I'd storm into that building to get him out if I could—I'm not going to deny that. The thing is, I had no means to do so."

"And yet the timing couldn't have worked better for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You called us instead of teleporting, like you usually do. An unusual choice. You kept us occupied as a means of providing an alibi for yourself, while the Shattered working with you was doing their dirty work. You preferred Jason dead rather than enslaved?" They accented slavery with a mocking tone, but they were dangerously close to the truth, which made me admire them a bit more. Not so easily fooled after all—maybe years of experience really are worth their weight in gold?

A strong wave of obedience and fear rushed over me. Leaves of the trees that surrounded us rustled, moved by a sudden breeze, while the sky visibly darkened under the shadow cast by some unseen cloud. Crows cackled, and Joan looked scarier than ever. And yet, despite my body trembling and my biological brain calling for divine intervention, the others were calm, overwhelming it with restraint and providing me with a clear path.

"I know… no Shattered to call for help besides you," I answered with the voice of someone broken by terror. One of my nicer acts, if I may be honest. I really sold it fantastically well, in my humble opinion.

"That's unfortunate," they replied, and the visual and auditory effects eased.

"We really hoped you were involved in this somehow." It was an unexpected answer, made all the stronger by how defeated they suddenly looked—shoulders slumped, gaze directed at the grass moving in the wind.

"You look like you'd want to be involved," I risked. I didn't know if they were playing, or if they were so used to their manipulations doing the heavy lifting that everything else had been forgotten. Their eyes wandered slowly back to meet mine, and they exhaled before finally speaking.

"Not everything is as obvious as it seems, Alexa." No fucking kidding.

"No matter how beautiful a way someone lays down for you, it may still be the wrong one for you. And yet, sometimes it's the only one you are able to follow."

"Does it have to do with you being called a warlock?"

"You caught that? Of course you did," they replied, looking all the sadder for it.

"Your patron is in conflict with your god?" They actually smiled then, the first genuine one I could remember.

"It's exactly like we just said," they started, but then their shoulders jerked just a little—the gesture of lying I'd found for them. A movement aborted through sheer will. This time, however, their eyes went wide and their pupils grew larger.

"Sometimes those above us need a little reminder of where loyalties lie." Why would they say that all of a sudden? Was it a test for me, or something else entirely? My physical brain was being neutered somehow. They were pressing it to become docile, sleepy and withdrawn. And yet their eyes didn't give me any peace of mind. They were an anomaly in the pattern I'd observed so far. They suggested fear, and that didn't click at all. Unless—my creative mind suggested—unless I was deeply wrong from the beginning.

It could be something other than restraint or misdirection.

"That question gave you pause?" they continued, catching me drifting in thought.

"Yes, it did. You are very devoted to your god. I can't imagine it being easy in a group that is so broken by so many different factors, unified only by the fact of being Shattered—and then there is you, obviously the same and yet different enough from the rest to warrant smirks and remarks that can be easily heard." I responded, building an alibi for them and for myself at the same time.

"And yet you always stand proud and tall, representing the divine that remade you. It's admirable." I finished, watching the fear in their eyes subside.

"You think of us this way?" That question pretty much sealed the deal, confirming that I was very wrong about this whole warlock thing. Joan indeed wasn't what they seemed.

"Of course. I can't think of anyone more devoted to the cause than you." I played along, although I had to admire them for what they were working around. If I was right, they were the archmage of the Domain of Nature, as they declared, and not a warlock siphoning power from some external being. Instead, they weren't really Shattered at all—they were bound directly to the Solitary God instead. Another slight, jerking movement followed my answer, and Joan smiled again.

"You are perceptive. More than we gave you credit for, are you not?" they asked, and all I could think about was their situation. Powerful enough to crush those who mocked them, yet restrained by the voice of a god that could worm its way inside their head at any moment—just like it had seconds ago, to check whether they were still loyal.

"I had to be. Life forced me to take notice of small details, to reveal grander truths. My mentor is not a good man, and yet he taught me valuable things." I offered, giving them an avenue to open themselves up about the one above them.

"Good and bad are just a matter of perspective. What we do is not always our choice."

"Circumstances force the action," I repeated, faking deeper thought settling in my mind. It was clear to me now. Those jerks were not lies—they were the moments when their patron took over to check on them, to steer the conversation. And Joan was so desperate to learn about the other dissident Shattered because they hoped they might help their case. That raised another question, though. Why would they bind themselves in the first place?

Or maybe I was wrong about all of my assumptions again, and they were simply testing me. It was mind-bending for sure, but also… fun. Figuring people out had always been one of my favorite things to do, and these twisted, magical versions of people cranked the difficulty far beyond anything I'd dealt with before.

"We understand each other, then," came their reply as the projection disappeared completely.

"We have your phone number…" they started, with a deliberate pause, during which their shape changed to resemble me—but without freckles, with red hair and more contrasting makeup.

"Jess Hare," I replied.

"Interesting choice. We will contact you if we need to cooperate. There is also the matter of the reward for your previous task, and for taking me here so quickly. Considering it's nearing Christmas, we think it would only be appropriate for it to be delivered to your home."

"Is that really necessary?" I asked, knowing full well that they knew where I lived through Jason's memories.

"It is."

"Will you still be playing Jason?"

"That remains to be seen. We will have to find out how things stand in my home." Another stressed word, another hint for me. They were definitely playing some game within the structure of the Shattered, and this group was far less unified than I'd initially assumed. Whether that was better for me or not remained very much up in the air. And Joan was still not off the hook for all the manipulations they'd played on me, even if there was some tragic backstory hidden behind that mirror-like exterior.