Act 3, Chapter 107: The red bloom

Day in the story: 1st February (Sunday), past 5:00 a.m.—approximately 11 hours and 21 minutes remain until the record time is lost

Alexandra May

The black lake at the center of my agora rippled once, then a second time. Interwoven through the widening circles, red and pink shadowlight danced like petals of falling cherry blossoms and scattered rose petals. It moved in intricate patterns, perfectly aligned with the soulbeat of the Domain.

I had been sitting in an armchair my minions had brought when it began, but the moment the first concentric ripples reached the stable grassy shore, I rose to my feet.

Alex, playing his guitar at the far end of the agora, did the same. Even Gertrude, who had been meditating near the natural waterfall in our woods, decided the moment was worth witnessing with her own eyes and teleported to my side using the anchor painted on her back. Coinciding with her arrival, the Weaver's Tree changed.

All of our attention turned toward its crown, where several of the crystalline branches—still looking like strands of equally pellucid spider silk—began to bloom. Tiny buds sprouted from them like stalactites before unfolding into intricate limpid flowers shaped like roses.

I felt it within my soul then, the pledge she was taking and the certainty that I could revoke her access to my power whenever I wished. I did no such thing, however, and the wind of change kept blowing throughout this world. Distant trees were felled by it all around us. Clouds were cast away from the firmament, exposing the stars, which too were dimmed into non-existence. What remained was the light of the Weaver’s Tree itself and how it reflected upon the black lake.

Additional ripples ran through its surface.

“She passed?” Nickolas asked, awakened either by instinct or by the sudden gust of wind sweeping across the agora. He scrambled upright, stared at the changes overtaking the soul core for several seconds, then decided the occasion deserved standing for.

“She did,” I replied through a hoarse throat. Both words hurt to say. They left my mouth just as the light of artistic creation erupted into a brilliant display of colors.

Nickolas backed away from the trunk to stand near me. Maya’s silver outline shone a few feet away from the branches as she focused her magical senses on the changes happening here. Through her, I felt the Authority of growth and self-protection pushing through the soul core to affect the Domain. Sophie wasn’t feeling safe, and the Domain wanted to reflect that feeling, but I, in all of my versions, and even Ali, who was inside the crystal, pushed back. This was our universe, and we were making the rules here. We alone shaped how this home of ours portrayed itself.

The ripples intensified across the lake and kept pushing against the invisible bank at my feet, where the grass met the liquid. The waves rose, struck that unseen threshold, then rebounded back across the water until the lake became a violent storm.

Each time I had placed her under my spotlight and, in turn, put Sophie in a difficult position, she had found the strength to trust me. She knew about my troubled criminal past and had kept it to herself for who knows how long—I never asked. When Penrose became the danger and threatened her life, she lashed out, but followed it with love and faith in me. Even when I decided to entangle myself with him again, she did not object. When everyone around her was given powers, she retreated into herself, but she never took it out on us. Once again, she accepted us as we were, trusting that we would make the best decisions. When I admitted my feelings for Nickolas to her, she never once wavered in believing that I would do nothing to harm her or act against her.

I decided to give Sophie my trust. It was what she deserved and what she had never failed to offer me.

Even despite the reservations I had that she wasn’t as artistically inclined as I was, I had to give her that chance. Maybe I was wrong, and her floral decorations, her fashion sense, or something else altogether was enough for the Domain of Artistic Creation to take her as its own. I would not be the sole judge in this.

I took a breath, feeling all the eyes around me. Nickolas placed a hand on my shoulder as the winds kept pushing strongly against him. He covered his eyes against those violent gusts that somehow avoided me in all of my forms.

I reached inward, toward the link—that invisible shadowlight thread connecting me to the heart of this universe—and opened the gates that had barred Sophie from exerting her influence over this place.

The waves stilled instantly, and along with them the wind. Then the earth shook, and the entire agora, together with the lake, sank an inch downward, as though dragged by an enormous lift. Then another inch, then a foot, and more still. It descended so quickly that within seconds we were all standing at the edge of a vast circular hole in the ground. At the bottom of that cylinder, at least forty feet below us, rested the entire black lake and the Weaver’s Tree.

Water somehow began pouring from where the lake’s former edges had been, as though fresh springs had burst forth, creating a waterfall that cascaded down onto the agora now far beneath us. It encircled the entirety of it, perfectly clear from top to bottom.

Behind that curtain of water, circular stairs began emerging from the walls, spiraling all the way down to the very bottom. At the same time, the tree extended part of its branches toward the surrounding wall. They drilled themselves into the stone, through the falling water, creating countless little cascades that streamed over the crystalline limbs before dripping down once more. From up here that crown finally looked like an intricate spider’s web made of pure crystal.

When I stepped toward where the stairs had begun at ground level, the Domain responded again. The earth rushed inward from every edge, as though the soil itself longed to become whole again. Bridges spun themselves into existence like strands of spider silk, stretching across the opening and intersecting one another at countless points. Then they widened as rocks and earth flowed across them, carried by shadowlight to fill every gap, until what had once been my black lake agora became level ground once more.

Grass sprouted everywhere almost immediately, matching the meadow beyond the former edge. Among the blades bloomed crimson poppies. Wild rose bushes followed, then clover, and finally, as though answering not only Sophie’s wish but my own soul’s quiet plea, forget-me-nots appeared. Just a few here and there, but they were there nonetheless.

“Come,” I said to Nickolas and made my way toward the place where the stairs should have begun beneath the ground.

He hurried after me, and all of my Personas within the Domain converged there as well.

When we drew close enough, my Domain responded once more. Part of the meadow rose into a hill. One side became a cliff, its face draped with long vines cascading from the top. They covered the entire wall, but when we approached, they parted, revealing a cavern whose walls were threaded with veins of crystal.

Those crystals contained the shadowlight of the Weaver’s Tree—I was certain of it—and yet I ran my hand along them anyway, just to feel their warmth.

A source aside: NovelPhoenix has the author's chapter, while this page contains a copy made without approval.

At some point, Anansi joined us in her spiderbunny form. She hopped and weaved between us until she reached the front of the line and we made our descent with a curtain of clear water always surrounding us on our left and the earthen wall on our right. The steps were made of black obsidian, and yet they felt soft beneath our feet. The light of the Domain’s soul core shone through the water separating us from it throughout our entire journey down, but the closer we came to the new ground level, the more magnificent it became. When we finally reached the last step, we passed through the curtain and onto the shore of the new black lake, with the Weaver’s Tree standing in the middle. It was dotted with crystalline flowers now, and the branches of its crown reached out to connect with the encircling walls like a spider’s web when seen from above or below.

Near the trunk, where she had first been taken, Sophie appeared. Her golden-blonde hair scattered in the light breeze caught in this strange well as though it had risen solely to welcome her back. Her suit was half ruined, the trousers torn away to expose one thigh and the opposite knee. The upper half had become little more than a vest over a stained shirt.

Her posture, however, radiated confidence. She extended a hand toward the soul core, and the shadowlight within her flowed into the tree before streaming back out again, their essences mingling as she gained access to the marks she had earned.

I knew with absolute certainty that she would be able to wield Identity and Animation. At the same time, my lingering questions about animas—and whether Anansi would be able to speak with those connected to my Domain—were answered just as decisively, though not in the way I'd hoped.

Whatever remained of Shadow Sophie now resided within the tree. That fragment of her shadow's soul responsible for the magical and metaphysical had become part of the soul core, while the intelligence that remained belonged entirely to Sophie’s own Anima.

She slowly turned toward us. The remnants of red, pink, and now—only then did I notice it—golden and green shadowlight gradually dissipated around her.

Her face was smeared with dirt and dried blood, as was the rest of her body, yet there wasn't a single wound left upon her. She had been remade, with one exception so obvious that no one could miss it.

“Soph?” Nickolas asked, cautiously extending his hands as he approached her. “Are you okay?” His eyes never left her chest—though this time it wasn't because of her breasts, but because of what rested between them.

The crystal fragment that had once been her necklace had become embedded within her body. It had blossomed into a small, open flower, crystalline and delicate enough to resemble living flora. Shadowlight flowed in and out of it through faint veins branching beneath her skin.

“I am,” she replied.

Then she ran to him, and he wrapped her in his arms. I observed them for a second, wishing that this moment could last forever for them. I found it difficult to accept and, at the same time, both enchanting and ironic that love at its strongest—if it was truly what they were feeling toward each other—showed its ugliest face most often during forced partings and soon after they were over. The heart, or perhaps the soul, always seemed to long for those it couldn't currently have.

For some reason, Anansi ran across the lake, each of her eightfold steps leaving small ripples on the surface until she reached the base of the tree. From there she hopped onto the trunk and climbed upward toward the webbing. Gertrude marched onto the lake with her hands in her pockets and her head held high as she looked at the ceiling, matched in both motion and awe by Alex and Maya perched on his shoulder. We all looked beyond the strange crown woven from crystal and dreams, and through it to the ceiling, where some of the veins of crystal converged to shine like distant stars.

“It’s so quiet in here,” Alex noted, thinking of all the water falling from the branches and the waterfalls along the walls. When it met the blackness, it muffled whatever thunder should have come with the collapsing liquid.

“In-fuckin'-deed,” Gert replied, turning slowly around despite the fact that she, just like us, could see in every direction. “We should have done it ourselves a long time ago. Much safer to keep the heart of our power hidden underground. Looks so much more bloody cool too.”

As she spoke, I began noticing the builder spiders descending from above along the walls and onto the branches, weaving their natural silk between them and adding the glistening effect of dew-covered webs to the already fantastic view. They skittered around, doing their work, while I simply took it all in, drawing a deep breath. The air smelled of fresh flowers even here, deep beneath the earth. Maybe because of the crystal flowers, or simply because of the pure magic Sophie provided.

As if she could hear me thinking about her, she finally unlatched herself from Nickolas’s arms, the whispers they had shared remaining between them as memories, and turned to me with half a smile and half a frown.

“We need to talk, Alexa.” Her voice was laced with urgency.

“Aren’t those the words someone just fucking yearns to hear?” Gertrude answered.

“Let’s talk,” I replied, slowly walking over to them. I treated each step with the expectation that it could be my last, and not because of the prosthesis, but because of a sudden cramp that could paralyze me again for Reality-only-knows how long. “Who attacked you? Do you know?” Gertrude tensed upon hearing that question.

“No. I just heard the shot and fell to the ground the second later. I was saved by my shadowlight, which appeared to stop the impact. I didn’t want to talk about it now. Not yet. I want to talk about the Domain, actually, Lex.” She stepped away from Nickolas and took a few slow steps, letting her gaze wander over all the changes that had happened because of her.

“Okay?”

“I’m not an artist.”

“And?” Gertrude interjected from the side. “Neither am I, in how I was conceived, and yet I managed to be creative.”

“I agree with Gertrude,” I said.

“Obviously.” Nick had his arms crossed over his chest and tapped his foot against the water.

“No, seriously. My Domain, Sophie, is one of Artistic Creation, with creation being just as important as the art. And in your case, it was enough for the soul core to accept you. You do create, Soph.” I extended my hand and placed it on her shoulder. She met my eyes, her expression unsure. “What did you learn about yourself during the trial?”

“I was taken through a memory lane. It had shown me struggling with how I saw myself in the world and how I retreated into familiar patterns—how I behaved, how I talked, even how I studied. Then I noticed that patterns exist in other things too, for example flower compositions. And that there is inherent meaning to them, given by people. That different shapes, plants, colors—it all can send a different message. That it can have a different Identity within the memory of the universe.”

“Memory of the universe?” Maya asked, launching herself from Alex’s shoulder and flying closer.

“It’s a subject for a different, much longer conversation,” Sophie sighed. “What matters now is that even if I understand I have some inclination toward being artistic, I still feel like an impostor, and that I was accepted both by my shadow’s spirit and yours during my trial, not because of merit, but because I’m close to you.” Her shoulders slumped, but her eyes kept my gaze. A tear gathered in one corner.

“That’s untrue!” High-pitched voice came out of a little flying seer.

“Yes, Sophie. It is untrue. Maya is right. You were accepted, and now you have to prove your worth by yourself. Same as I do.”

“I know that you can revoke my access. As a living sourceress, you have that power,” Sophie added.

“Really?” Nick asked, lowering his arms and coming closer. “I didn’t know that. Our sourcerer died a long time ago.”

“Yes, Nicky. She can do that. She has absolute power in here, and the changes that happened were because she allowed them to happen.”

“You fear I will take away your power, Soph?” I asked.

“No. Exactly the opposite,” she whispered, and her eyes left mine for the first time. She lowered her gaze to her feet in shame. “I am afraid that you won’t, out of obligation to me, when I fail to meet expectations.”

“Sophie,” I said in a softer tone. “I have no expectations—”

“But I do,” she interrupted, raising her clasped fist. “I feel like I can be great. I can be the best, even. But I am also indebted to you and your Domain. Without you, I would not have this opportunity at all. And I know finances. I know balance. And I am certain that I have to pay it back to feel like it’s not yours anymore, but mine too.”

“I did not see it that way.”

“I know. That’s why I am asking you to give me a deadline. Set a time, or even a date. Make me prove by then that I am worthy of calling it my Domain, and not Alexa’s.” She spread her arms wide to indicate the whole of this world. “You know what I mean?”

“I do, Sophie. I do now.” I extended my hand toward her, palm open. She hesitated for a second, then took it firmly. “I give you ten years—”

“Too long. Make it five,” she said.

“Five years to prove that you are worthy of this being your Domain as much as it is mine.” She shook my hand, then tossed it aside and wrapped me tightly in her arms. I felt the warmth radiating from the crystalline flower embedded in her chest, but also from her body itself. “You’ve got to tell me about this soul core fragment between your breasts, honey.”

“Oh, right!” she shouted.