The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

If I had to describe my impression of Samium in one word, it would be 'normal'. Unusually, irrepressibly normal. He talked like any somewhat-elderly man you'd find on the street.

It didn't make me like him.

"So, um," Shiko asked, fingers wrapped around the handle of her mug of hot tea. "How did you meet my grandpa?"

I looked down at my own cup, filled with warm cocoa, hoping I could sit out the conversation.

It'd been a few minutes. I'd made an awkward introduction, and, despite the fact that neither Shiko nor I were particularly excited about it, we'd ended up talking to Samium out of polite obligation, while her grandmother had made us some drinks.

Well, I say that we weren't excited about it, but the truth is that it's a little difficult for me to parse properly. I remember, as myself, feeling intensely awkward and a little annoyed that so much time in the evening was being derailed by something I wasn't particularly interested in. I'm not sure how much of those feelings has spilled into my recollection of the event as Shiko. She was probably a little bored, and was definitely trying to be polite, because she always was. But I also remember her being a little curious meeting such an important person, and if I detached myself from my biases and simply placed her - or even my contemporary self - into that position again in the same context, it had probably been more than a 'little'.

It's strange. Even though her brain is much better at recalling facts, it might be a little worse at retaining emotional states... Though it's hard to say for certain. Nothing can evaluate the self but the self, and it's biased by circumstance in just about every way under the sun.

"Eheh, it's actually quite a funny story," Samium said, with a nostalgic look in his eyes. "It was during the Mnemonic War, early in the counter-offensive against Rhunbard. We'd both been drafted into the navy. I was in my seventies at the time, while he was a very young man - probably only a few years off the two of you."

"He was a teenager?" Shiko asked, surprised.

"Little older than that," Samium corrected her, with a chuckle. His laugh was hoarse but gentle, and whenever he did, his whole beard bobbed and vibrated, like it was made of sponge. "I suppose I'm speaking by adult standards. This was about 955, so he would have been... Late twenties? Early thirties?" He shook his head. "Anyway. Back then, when it came to assigning posts the Ysaran military had this fool concept they called 'familial dignity'. More or less, if you were from a noble family, it was considered an insult to your heritage for you to be stuck in the rank-and-file as some grunt soldier, or even shuffled away to an administrative office. You had to be given a command, whether you deserved it or not." He shook his head. "I should rightly have been stuck in one of the junior arcane brigades, but instead, I was given a vessel. The YMF Paruga."

In retrospect, he was underselling the situation by saying he was part of a 'noble family'. As the name 'Ur-Ysar' would suggest, Samium was essentially Ysaran royalty, as much as the concept existed for such a fractious people. If you traced his ancestry back to the old world, his ancestors were counted among the Iron Princes. Before that,they'd been people of influence in the various states of Assyria. It wouldn't even surprise me if he was distantly related to the historical Gilgamesh-- Assuming he actually existed.

Not that even Shiko had really been aware of this at the time... Or his background as an Egomancer. She'd only known him a little about him based on his political career.

Shiko raised her eyebrows. "Oh, you were a ship captain--"

"Again, little off," he interrupted. "See, it's not as if the high command were simple. They knew I was some pampered imbecile of a boy from the unoccupied realms who hadn't so much as set foot on a boat that wasn't equipped with its own spa and dining hall. So the title I actually got was 'junior flotilla admiral, single issue'. Or to strip the pomp from it, they made me a fleet commander with almost no authority, and a 'fleet' consisting of one ship." He smirked. "The actual captain, name of Bartulme, made all the real decisions, while I got to relax in a little office on the upper deck."

"That must have been embarrassing," Shiko said, with a little laughter.

"Oh, I hardly minded," he said, with a dismissive gesture. "I barely wanted to be there at all. I'd let myself get excited at start of the ordeal along with everyone else, blood up at the notion of casting down the Rhunbardi tyrants and freeing the last of our homeland... But after a few weeks at sea, all I wanted in the world was to be back at the university in Nad-Ilad, where the food didn't taste stale and I could actually sleep through the night without getting seasick." He sighed. "The last thing I wanted was any sort of responsibility."

I remember the story well from Shiko's perspective, but I'm not sure I retained any of this at all myself. All I remember is feeling increasingly tired and frustrated at this old man going on and on about ancient history. I didn't care a hoot.

"Anyway, I'll stop beating around the bush," Samium continued. "On top of my post being more or less a farce, the actual duties of the Paruga couldn't be more trivial, either. It was a scout ship - lean, with a crew of about sixty - assigned to the western Anisychian Sea. Now, I don't expect either of you know much about military technology in those days, but let me tell you: Back then, a scout ship was about as useful as a paper umbrella. Divination was advanced enough that you could see any threat a mile off, and unless you were Sara of Xattusa, counter-divination was still too primitive to fool it. On top of that, you were starting to see airships and subnautics about, and they'd make a farce of the very notion of scouting with a regular old boat before the war was over." He took a deep sip from his own cup of tea, letting out a gasp for air afterwards. "So the only job we really had was to scout out territory so far from the rest of the fleet that was both difficult to scry, and wasn't important enough to warrant the newest technology." He snorted. "Needless to say, we didn't see a lot of action. Sometimes it felt like we were just being given busywork."

You just said you're going to stop beating around the bush, only to go on for even longer, I thought, irritated.

"But something eventually did happen," Shiko deduced.

"Well, that's sort of putting the cart before the horse, eh? But yes," Samium admitted. "Otherwise, there wouldn't be much of a story. In fact, that's how the meeting came about."

"He also served on the ship, then?" she asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Samium explained. "You see, because the Ysaran front was so busy at the time, we were often short on arcanists, and, well-- You can't exactly have a far-ranging scout ship without anyone to do the scrying."

"What about you?"

He shook his head. "Not trained for it. Back then, incantations weren't as streamlined. You needed a lot more training to perform even the basics of a discipline." He gestured outwardly. "In any event, the Grand Liberating Army arranged for us to borrow some arcanists from the Free Saoic States - what'd later become the Dai League - which at the time was a quiet front, since the Empire had just withdrawn their forces. In return, we'd sometimes help ferry their men around when we had nothing else to do. That was how it was for three whole years." He clasped his hands together. "But one day, we were assigned a mission even more out of the way than usual, taking us so towerward we were out of the Anisychian altogether and half way to Turaggoth. It was cold, and even though we had plenty of supplies, the crew was bloody miserable.It lasted weeks, and no one, even the captain and the scryers, could understand what the high command was thinking, and to be honest I'm still not sure even now." He took another sip. "But there's no way they could have predicted what would happen on that day."

"You were attacked," Shiko said.

"That's right," he said, with a nod. "I wouldn't find out until weeks later, but this turned out to be right when the Empire managed to weasel Turaggoth into breaking its neutrality and coming to their side in the war. So you can imagine our surprise when our scryers picked up a whole fleet moving out way, ships and airships both." He tapped his fingers against the mug. "Now, a scout ship is pretty sprightly, so we'd have no problem outrunning the seafaring part of the armada. But the airships, well, that was another matter entirely. And if we'd scried them, then you could damn well bet they'd scried us, too. That meant we had a day, at most, before they found us. And if that happened, well-- We'd be good and buggered, to say the least."

"What did you do...?" Shiko asked. I swirled the cocoa in my mug around, watching the white foam on the surface break apart and form new shapes.

"Heheh, we panicked, that's what!" Samium looked amused with himself, laughing again as he ran a hand through his beard. "On top of everything, Old Captain Bart had managed to get sick as a dog a day earlier, and we didn't have any healers to find what the hell was wrong with him. So at the worst possible time, the men were rapping their knuckles at the door, saying it was up to me to take command." He shook his head. "As if I had a bloody clue."

Later, as Shiko, I'd ask my grandfather for his version of the story, and learned that Samium was actually softening it for me - uh, for her, rather - considerably. It turned out that Bartulme hadn't been 'sick', he'd hung himself a few days before the crisis after breaking down from the news that his wife had been killed on the Ysaran front. The Empire, which wasn't exactly the most progressive society when it came to gender norms, would specifically target and wipe out women's regiments as a propaganda exercise to demoralize the enemy and portray the Liberating Army as desperate and barbaric in their recruiting practices, and she'd fallen victim to one of these events.

It hadn't been as simple as rest of the officers passing control straight to Samium, either. There'd almost been a mutiny on the ship, and he'd only been approached for command when most of them were dead.

Of course, it wasn't as much of a 'funny story' when you put it that way, and definitely wasn't appropriate for a couple kids in their early-mid teens.

"I thought it best to try and surrender, but the Turaggothics weren't interested. They were bee-lining for the main Ysaran fleet to ambush on its way past the Akinesti Reach, and didn't give a damn about anything that could slow them . After that, I couldn't see anything to do but give them a bit of the fight before we went down in our flames."

"That's courageous," Shiko said, but meant that it sounded insane.

"Hahahah! To tell the truth, I was shitting myself," Samium confessed. "And the men! I'd never felt more like my throat was about to be slit than when I looked at their faces as I ordered them to load the cannons. I bet if things had carried on that way, they would've shot me and hoped giving the enemy my scalp might've bought them some mercy." He sighed wistfully. "Thank the gods it didn't come to that, and one of the Saoites we'd been ferrying barged right into my office not an hour after I'd broke the news."

"That was grandpa, right?"

"Exactly," Samium said, with a nod. "I'd seen him about, but that was the first time we spoke man to man. And let me tell you: it was a strong impression. He demanded to know the specifics of my plan for when the attack came. I told him that we'd try to throw them off by going on the offensive, since our ship's guns could outrange the lighter ones they kept on airships. He asked me if I knew the range, and I told him it was about four miles. After that, he called me an idiot and asked for permission to raid the ship's pantry, since we were dead anyway, and might as well get pissed to all hell first."

Shiko's laughed awkwardly, not sure what to say. "It, uh, sounds like you got off on the wrong foot."

"Oh, that's understating the issue," Samium said, with a broad smile. "I thought he was a little twerp with an ego ten times bigger than it should've been, and he thought I was a doddering, spoiled idiot without a single useful skill to speak of." He clicked his tongue a few times, affection shining through his eyes. "The worst part is that he was right."

"So... What happened?" Shiko asked. "How did you survive?"

"He saved our hides, that's what happened," he said. "All through the night, we argued strategy, and what we should do to keep our miserable lives. The idea he came up with was so insane, I can still scarcely believe it." He slurped some more tea, a little getting caught in his beard. "We'd start by scuttling the ship on purpose."

That got even me to react. I looked up, my brow contorted.

"I know what you're thinking," he continued, looking amused as he glanced at me. "But I swear on my life it's the truth. Since we knew the Turaggoths didn't have any subnautics in their navy, his idea was that the only way we could avoid being blown to pieces would be to make the enemy think it'd already happened. Playing dead, but with a damn frigate." He set his mug down for a moment, crossing his arms. "Your grandfather assured me he knew what he was doing - that this had become a known guerilla tactic in Sao among arcanists."

"I've never heard of that before," Shiko said.

Samium held up a finger, as if to say 'just you wait', before continuing. "We sailed to the nearest spot the sea-level was reasonably high - we were only a few days off from the coast, so it could've been worse - burned some scrap metal and scattered it in the surrounding sea to make like we'd been hit by one of the Sara's arcane raiders, ran an air-pipe up from the supply room in the middle deck, sealed it tight with the Power... Then triggered a blast in the hull. Sunk dead to the ocean floor." He looked towards the window, presumably towards the seaside. "One of the most harrowing experiences of my life, no question about it."

"That's incredible," Shiko said, also a little taken aback. "I mean-- How did you not freeze to death...?"

"We very nearly did," he admitted. "We'd loaded the room with blankets and moved all the fuel we had on board to use as eris, but by end, we'd lost three crewmen to the cold. It was dire, being cramped in there, barely able to move for fear of the chill reaching you through the fabric-- Like being packed into your own tomb." A little pride entered into his expression. "But we lived. The armada passed us by, and eleven days later, our scryer picked up another scout ship. We used the Power to make a flare, and the last of our eris on a bubble to bring us to the surface. The captain told us that if we weren't speaking, he'd have thought we were animated by Necromancy." He let out another soft sigh. "I'll never forget the feeling of the warm bed in the cabin they gave me that night. It was like I'd died and gone to heaven."

Joy is contextual. To someone who has only ever known pain, just its absence can feel like the grandest ecstasy.

"After that, we talked a bit," Samium continued, "and he admitted it wasn't a known strategy at all. That he'd come up with the idea by the seat of his pants, and had no idea if we'd have been dead in the first hour down there." He chuckled softly. "I didn't know whether I wanted to kiss him or punch him dead in the face."

Shiko laughed a little, though it was mostly out of trying to meet the tone of the room. It was more of a story to boggle at than one that was actually amusing. "What happened after that?" she asked.

"Well, I nearly got court martialled," Samium said flatly. "As for your grandfather, he went back to Sao, and I didn't hear from him for years. But during those two weeks we'd been stuck in that box, we'd talked about a lot of things-- Our interests, backgrounds, what we wanted out of life..." He rubbed the side of his cheek, looking downwards. "It'd turned out we had a lot in common. After the war was over, we happened to be living in the same part of Ysara. We got in touch again, and one thing led to another." He exhaled softly, a smile still on his face. "Though if you were to ask him, I'm sure he'd say I badgered him until he agreed to meet me again."

Shiko smiled. "It, um... It sounds like you're really fond of him."

"Do I?" Samium looked at her thoughtfully. "Well, when you get to my age, you learn to treasure every old friendship you still have-- The older the better. Keeps you grounded in who you are. You and, uh..." He glanced towards me. "I'm sorry, did I get your name?"

I froze up, anxiety flourishing in my gut. My mouth went slightly agape as I stared at his face, but I felt paralyzed. My breath grew heavy.

Shiko must have noticed my anxiety, because she spoke up fairly quickly. "Kuroka," she said. "Her name's Kuroka."

I bit my lip. I wasn't sure I felt any less awkward, but I managed to nod slightly.

"Kuroka...? Oh." Samium looked at me for a moment with a puzzled expression, then blinked, returning to his ordinary smile. "Well, I was going to say that the two of you should treasure your friendship for as long as you can, even if it feels unimportant now. One of my only regrets is not keeping in touch with the friends I had a child. Those sort of bonds break so easily early on for the most petty reasons, but if you hold on to them, they really are irreplaceable."

Shiko nodded with a smile and I nodded awkwardly, but I don't think either of us took the words particularly seriously. For teenagers, those sort of sentiments go in one ear and out the other.

Thinking about it, it's almost funny that he'd given that counsel. I wonder what he'd think about it now.

Samium looked at me hesitantly, a slight frown forming around his eyes. "Er, pardon-- I apologize if I've made you feel uncomfortable, miss... Miss Kuroka," he said, doing what was probably his best. "It's been a bit of a long day for me, so I might not be putting quite my best self forward."

Shiko left a moment for me to say something, and then when I didn't, spoke up in my place. "It's okay," she said. "She's just a little shy when it comes to people she doesn't know. Especially when it comes to, um, important people."

I was shy, and 'important' people did intimidate me. But more than anything I was feeling angry at him. For taking away time. For making me have an experience like this on the the one night I shouldn't have had to.

He smirked wryly, oblivious to my feelings. "Do I come across as an important person?"

Shiko laughed awkwardly. "Um, well... Not really. You seem ordinary. But I mean-- Aren't you a famous diplomat?"

"If you were to ask me, I'd say 'famous' and 'diplomat' are practically oxymorons," he replied. "Singers and actors, and maybe the odd scientist or front-facing government official, are famous. Diplomats are like the janitors of the administrative world."

"But I mean," Shiko went on, "you were one of the people who created the Grand Alliance. Who negotiated the founding treaty and achieved world peace."

Samium, in spite of his age and status, all but blushed at this, his face reddening slightly as he looked to the side with an awkward expression. "Heheh, I suppose it does sound important when you put it like that," he admitted. "But still. All that really amounts to, beyond being in the proper place at the proper time, is being good at talking to people." He took another few heavy gulps of tea, finishing the last of it. "Something you realize as you get older is that people only have maybe six different conversations, and that people are the same all the way from the pub to the highest halls of power. All that changes is the room you're sitting in. If you can figure out how to keep a local sports team together while keeping everyone's ego satisfied, you can probably negotiate world peace. So long as you're in the right chair with the right people."

There was truth in what he said, but I'm not sure he came across in quite the way he meant to. Shiko had lived her whole life in reasonable proximity to the upper crust of society, but if you're someone who already feels small and feeble, hearing someone with so much power, who has done so much to engineer the world, talk about how they're ordinary and it was all no big deal... It can feel bitterly alienating. Much more so than if they'd hyped it up.

After all, if someone lifts a mountain and then acts like it was easy, that doesn't come across as humble. It comes across like they're some kind of god.

I wondered sometimes if that was how I came across in the modern day. With the attitude I had, despite being one of the most academically successful young arcanists in the world.

"You really aren't what I expected at all," Shiko remarked.

"Heh, I'm glad I'm doing one thing right, then," he said, seeming to raise his mug to the words. "Anyway, that was a very long time ago. Nowadays, I spend most of my time sitting in rooms with the real important people who don't listen to a single damn word I say, just because I have a prestigious name. And with the way things seem to be going, I wouldn't be surprised if I lose even that in a few years."

"You three sound like you're having a serious conversation," Shiko's grandmother said, stepping in from the hallway.

"Thank you for the tea, Tahazili," Samium said to her, as she entered. "It was lovely."

She snorted at him. "Thanks, but it's box crap. I just dripped some honey in it."

He chuckled. "Not one to take a compliment easily, eh?"

"I love taking compliments," she said, stepping past us. "Just for the things I'm good at, not my sh-- Pardon, my lousy cooking." She looked at Shiko and I and winked in an over-the-top, embarrassing manner. "Speaking of which, if you three aren't gonna scoot yet, I'm gonna get started."

"I'm looking forward to it," Samium said warmly, before turning back towards the two of us as well. "So, to get back to something resembling normal conversation. Are the two of you friends from school?"

"Uh, no," Shiko said. "We just met around the neighborhood and found out we're fans of some of the same dramas and echo games."

"Ahah." He nodded. "Well, that's a good sign. Friendships based on being stuck in the same room together can be a little harder to hold together, in my experience." He looked towards me. "Do your families know one another?"

I could see the train of thought that he was following - if I was someone local, I'd probably come from a wealthy background, too. If only Shiko hadn't said used the world 'neighborhood' in an attempt to avoid embarrassing me.

Once again, I stared listlessly, not knowing what to say. This time, though, Shiko didn't say anything, feeling too awkward to either lie or spell out the truth. Neither did her grandmother, though I'm not sure if that was because she didn't know how to broach the subject, or because she simply wasn't paying attention.

I hesitated. "I... uh, I don't..."

But the words fizzled out in my throat. I was really starting to regret not having just gone upstairs.

"A-Ahh," Samium eventually said, cluing in to what had happened as the silence dragged on for several moments. "Do you not have a family...? I apologize. That was insensitive of me to assume."

"It's okay," Shiko said, seizing on a chance to diffuse the situation. "You couldn't have known something like that."

"No, it was my fault," Samium insisted, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have been asking questions of that ilk when we'd only just met. It must be hard enough to be an orphan at such an age without fools like me--"

"I'm not... I'm not an orphan," I stammered out.

I don't know why I'd said it, really. It was like a random crack appearing in a pipe overwhelmed with too much pressure. Maybe some part of me resented being looked down upon, or the fact that he was following one assumption with another. Maybe another was looking for pity. Or maybe just attention. It's hard to decipher the mind of a kid, even when it's your own.

Shiko's grandmother was definitely looking now. She'd stopped cooking, her head turned partially to the side.

"I live at a foster home. My dad is-- My dad is still around," I clarified, my voice very weak. "He lives on the mainland, but he visits... He visits sometimes." I took a breath. "I have a family," I insisted.

The room was very quiet, the silence even more uncomfortable than before. Water tripped from the tap over in the sink.

"Uh... Again, I'm putting my foot in my mouth," Samium said, with an awkward chuckle. "I apologize. Really, I shouldn't have asked."

I didn't say anything in response, only breathing heavily. I felt sweat running down the side of my armpits.

I've made everyone uncomfortable for no reason,I thought, my face feeling hot. Why did I do that? Why did I do something so self-obsessed?

Maybe I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't be here.

But then, just as I was on the verge of melting down, she saved.

"W-Why don't we go upstairs now, Kuroka?" Shiko said, looking between my face and Samium. "That's okay, right? It was nice to have met you, sir."

"Oh, by all means!" he said, holding up his hands. "Pardon; I really did go on."

"Will you be at dinner?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, most likely."

"He's staying out in the shed," Shiko's grandma said. "Probably gonna be in and out of the house all week."

Samium looked towards her with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you said it was a guesthouse, Tahazili?"

"Eh, guesthouse, shed." She shrugged. "Same difference. It's got a bed." She looked towards Shiko and I. "I'll let you know when dinner's ready. Should just be a couple hours."

"Okay," Shiko said. "Uh, let's go, Kuroka."

She look hold on my arm. I blinked, rising to my feet.

I turned away from the kitchen, and we stepped out into the hall, making for the staircase. The lamplight was deep and red, now.

"Hey," she said to me. "It's okay. Everything's alright."

I nodded. "Y-Yeah," I said, already feeling better. "Sorry for acting weird."

"You didn't act weird," she reassured me. "He was being kinda presumptive."

I nodded again, feeling a little better.

Everything's alright.

𒊹

Utsushikome's room in her grandma's home was a lot more modest than mine-- Her-- ...the one in Oreskios. It didn't have its own bathroom, and was only about 16 feet across. It was a bit more sparse, too - she'd left a lot of her childhood items behind, and there was nothing ostentatious like the piano or the high-power logic engine. Still, it was nicer than the one I had. There was a big bed, a smaller logic engine that was still good enough to watch dramas and play simple games locally, and several bookshelves alongside a desk. It had a balcony with a view of the beach, too, which was nice.

The nature of the room wasn't really important, though. I was just glad that we were alone.

As soon as I arrived, I started to relax, the stressful conversation from a few minutes earlier already feeling like a distant memory. We talked, a little stiffly at first, but our conversation quickly became more lively. We started chatting intensely about our theories regarding the drama's we'd been watching, and I blabbered on about my feelings about a novel she'd managed to get me to read - I had trouble focusing enough to read books most of the time, but could get over it if I was excited enough - while she nodded and commented enthusiastically.

Then, we attuned to the logic bridge and, sitting together on her bed, started on the next episode of the psychological horror drama we'd been watching. The scene that filled my mind's eye was of a mountaintop town, stark against the pure white snow. Overlaid against the window, like a portal to a different, more magical world.

Well, sort of. It wasn't actually that good, though that didn't matter much in terms of entertainment value.

"I'll beat those monsters and discover the truth, even if I have to die a hundred more times," the rugged male protagonist said, as he clenched his fist.

"Is that so?" The mentor figure questioned. "But every time you die, the curse consumes a piece of your memory. Are you so sure you'll be able to remain yourself?"

"O-Of course he'll be able to!" the secondary heroine said. (There were three heroines in a love triangle with the protagonist.) "No matter what happens, it'll still be him!"

"What do you think makes a person themselves?" The mentor asked. "The self is nothing more than the sum of the flesh and the mind. Have you ever heard of the Ship of Theseus?"

"Boo!" I called out.

"Why is it always the Ship of Theseus?" Shiko complained, flopping her head on the side of a pillow.

"Because it's easy pop-philosophy that everybody knows," I said, matter-of-factly. "Drama writers are all hacks."

"The last show they did was really good, though," Shiko said.

"Yeah, 'cause they had a tiny budget and it was a really straightforward concept," I said. "Just a few people trapped in a cabin. It's hard to mess that up."

"I guess," Shiko said. "Who do you think is the killer?"

"I dunno," I said. "I feel like it'll just be some new character they pull out of their butt... Or maybe it'll be the creepy old man who keeps showing up. Either way I don't think they're gonna do anything interesting."

"I think it might be master Ydal," Shiko speculated. "I mean, he was the only one who they told about the secret entrance to the castle outside of the main group. That's probably how the monsters got in."

I snorted. "You're giving them too much credit!"

She giggled a little bit. "I guess we'll see..."

When I'd met Shiko, I hadn't really imagined we'd become close friends. I felt very awkward the first time I'd come to her house after she'd found me that day on the beach. I'd learned not to trust people, even when they seemed to be acting kindly, and the disparity in our circumstances made me especially wary.

But children have a certain way of thinking about their interests. When you're an adult, relationships are mostly founded around emotional connections - your hobbies play a part, but most grown-ups don't have lives that revolve around them for them to be enough on their own. Kids, though, are obsessively oriented towards whatever excites them. Finding someone who shares your specific, niche enthusiasm for a thing can feel like discovering an oasis in a desert.

It turned out that Shiko and I were both big fans of a specific streak of horror and mystery stories. I didn't read much, but I was up late a lot of nights, and had ended up watching a lot of dramas of that type over the foster home's logic bridge. Even though I was incurious about many things and academically unsuccessful, I liked to pick at fine details and form theories. It was fun.

I hadn't even realized how much of a fan I was. That another me had been growing on those lonely nights, only waiting for someone to draw it out.

Even though it was such a small thing, for the first time, I felt like I was able to be someone other than myself. Someone who shined brightly.

Just like her.

"It's almost nightfall," the protagonist said. "They'll be coming back soon. We need to decide what we're going to do with Juno."

"I saw her eating just a few hours ago," the other girl said. "She's not been turned. We need to trust each other, no matter what."

His eyes narrowed."Trust each other? I'm not so sure..."

"I, uh, sorry for what happened earlier," Shiko said. "That guy was really thoughtless."

"Ah, it doesn't matter," I said, with a dismissive gesture. "Hey, isn't what she just said really similar to what that lady said in the flashback earlier? That they need to trust each other no matter what?"

Shiko blinked, then frowned thoughtfully. "But that was supposed to be 30 years ago. And they're played by different actresses."

"Maybe she's a shapeshifter," I said. "It could be foreshadowing."

Shiko bit her lip. "I dunno. Wouldn't they have introduced shapeshifting, if that was going to be part of the story?"

"Again, you're giving them way too much credit!" I said, laughing.

I felt alive.

The world is wrought of ugliness. Nature is hateful, and everything gentle expires quickly, while the harsh and repulsive thrives indefinitely. People are hateful, and hoard everything left that they can get their hands on for themselves and the few others they personally care about. To live is anguish and bitter deprivation. Like walking barefoot on ice.

And yet...

"Oh, there's another drama I wanted to try after this," Shiko said enthusiastically.

"Oh, yeah?" I said, excited.

She nodded. "This ones an actual whodunnit. Nothing supernatural. It's a bit dry, but it looks like it could be interesting?"

"What's it about?" I asked.

"Okay, so it's set on a train traveling through the Asharomi Desert in the Second Renaissance. In the middle of the trip, it suddenly breaks down, and..."

𒊹

Inner Sanctum Underground | 2:39 PM | Third Day

In theory, this was all an empty threat. After all, the deadline for when the sanctuary wouldn't actually arrive for over an hour, at four - that had to be the 'turning' they were talking about. Anna was almost done, and we'd be able to make for the entrance on time. We should have been safe.

But after what had just happened, maybe we'd been wrong from the start. It was as Ptolema had said. A third of the sanctuary had just been demolished. How could we be certain of anything?"

"What the fuck is it talking about?" Ezekiel snapped, his face going pale. "The air we breathe?"

"Shut up, you dimwit!" Kamrusepa reprimanded sharply. "This could be vital to hear!"

So tense.

"This shall be done at four o'clock," the voice continued. "Secondly, the gift of Taus, Lord of the Sundered Heavens, shall be taken: The warmth which grants you sustenance. This shall be done at five o'clock."

"It's gotta be talking about the life support system of the sanctuary," Seth concluded grimly. "First air, then heat."

Linos nodded silently, his expression dark and focused once again.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Ran stated. "Remember what we heard about the gas? There's more than one way to skin a fucking cat."

"Yeah," Ptolema said, her voice shaking. "They could poison us instead."

"Be quiet," Kam insisted.

"Finally, the gift of Anue himself, Father of the World, will be stripped from you," the golem went on. "No longer will you be creatures of the earth, but thrown from your station to the heavens. Lightning and wrath shall fall upon you relentlessly. This shall be done at six o'clock."

"What does that mean...?" Theo asked, anxiety in his tone. "Thrown to the heavens?"

"Gravity, probably," Fang said. "Yeah. Gravity."

"Wait, this place has artificed gravity?" Seth objected, incredulous. "But we're on the fucking ground."

"Idiot," Ezekiel spat. "Theodoros's father told us they could manipulate that, too. Don't you remember?"

Seth clicked his tongue. "Shit, that's right..."

This was starting to sound pretty dire. The lungs could be filled with oxygen and body kept warm with only a bit of eris expense - though that was a problem regardless, with how little we had left - but gravity wasn't so simple. Even if its absence didn't have the same overtly dangerous repercussions, emulating it was far more costly and complicated. And 'lightning and wrath'... What was it that Linos had said, when describing what the sanctuary was capable of?

"There are defensive golems which can be deployed, armed with refractor cannons and explosives. There's gas which can be pumped in, wards that impede movement, incantations to produce unbearable sound, and... Some more... Destructive effects, which can be triggered at various locations..."

I bit my lip. And that would be on top of everything else that was already happening. If somehow we weren't out of here by then... If things got that far out of hand...

Well, I didn't fancy our chances.

"Should you endure this, you will be given a 6 hour reprieve as my master prepares to descend to earth and usher in your final judgement." The golem paused. "This game is drawing to a close. May you triumph over fate alike to the heroes of old, or else, may you take this time to repent your actions, thus that mercy will be shown to you in the next life. Farewell."

The golem bowed, and the transmission cut out.

"Smug piece of filth," Kam muttered.

Everyone, save for Fang and Anna, looked shaken. Theo was staring towards the corner. Linos's face was paled. Mehit looked fretful and hyper-alert, like she was a moment away from clawing someone's face off.

"T-This sounds really bad," Ptolema said. "What are we gonna do?"

"Don't let it spook you, Ema," Seth said, through gritted teeth. "This shit is just a recording. We know we're safe until four, and we'll be out of here before then. I heard Anna say that she's almost done a little while ago-- All we'll have to do is check in with, uh, what was it called--"

"Sekhmet," Ran told him.

"Right, Sekhmet," Seth said, nodding. "All we'll have to do is check in with it, get a transposition window scheduled, and make for the exit. We'll be out of here within the hour."

Mehit turned her head sharply towards Anna. "This is true?"

"Yes," she confirmed, bluntly. "My work is essentially finished. The scripting for this facility has been almost completely re-routed from the administrative core to the artificed intelligence chamber. It should only be another few minutes, while we still have over an hour before any of these threats can be made manifest."

Often, Anna's blunt authoritativeness could be a little off-putting, but in this case it felt soothing. The atmosphere in the room calmed, if only slightly.

"T-Thank God..." Ophelia muttered, her breath heavy.

"B-But we don't know how they caused that explosion," Theodoros spoke anxiously. "Or if anything like that could happen again."

"Good point," Seth said, nodding. "Best thing we can do is get our shit together right now, before anything else can happen. The minute Anna's done, we can set out the door." He looked down the steps. "Fang, Su, have you still got enough eris for barriers?"

Fang looked at their bracelets, making a thoughtful hum. "Yeah, for a few minutes."

"Uh, just about..." I said, hesitant.

He nodded. "Alright. Now, where the hell is Zeno? This guessing game has been fun, but it's time to stop screwing around."

...but of course, it couldn't be that simple.

Linos, even paler than before, spoke up. "We may," he said, with a tone so heavy it was like each word weighed a hundred pounds, "have a problem."