Act 3, Chapter 115: The whole picture

Day in the story: 1st February (Sunday), past 7:00 a.m.—approximately 9 hours and 21 minutes remain until the record time is lost

Elle Erikson

“I have the picture! The whole thing's captured!” Laurent exclaimed a few seconds before Liora's magical pearl dissolved into thin air in front of him and he reverted to his usual sky-serpentine form. My lóng immediately began flying back toward us, while the other artist in our group focused on making quick edits.

I, however, was distracted by what was happening all around me and what it meant for me.

Alexandra had gone into the Hearth, or rather what had become of it due to the meddling of the Weaver's Tree, and was undergoing the healing process that would finally allow her to become herself again. The guide we might not need, but certainly welcomed and, quite literally, couldn't live without.

Bastien, on the other hand, with his panoramic shot, helped me realize that I could use what Gertrude had previously weaponized to create art on an unprecedented scale. We had all been suboptimal in how we approached artistic creations. They did not have to be singular things to exist and be assigned an identity or a truth about themselves.

I could just as well gather two web-slingers, three spy-ders, add a few wasps and a paper bird, and make them into a single installation of sorts. Nature rising against oppression. Or a hunting party of animals on the prowl. They would be supported not only by individual instances of my magic, giving each of them every right to be a spider, a bird, or whatever else they happened to be, but also by another layer of identity applied to the group as a whole.

And there were even more possibilities still waiting to be explored. I could add music to them, poems the creatures could recite, dances they could perform, paintings they could fight upon.

“Elle?” I heard someone call out suddenly. I wasn't even sure whose voice it was. Living without access to additional brains was proving to be bothersome. Having just a single stream of attention to dedicate to everything wasn't how people were meant to operate.

“Yes? Excuse me, I was meditating on something. Can you repeat that?”

“I was just asking if everyone's ready,” Kito apparently repeated himself. There fortunately wasn't even a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I'm surprised you missed that. You never miss anything.”

“All my minions are dead or beyond my control. I'm relying solely on my grey matter now.” I pressed my fingers against my temple and tapped it a few times. “I'm ready.” I added after making sure Liora had returned to us.

“Great,” Tien hissed through his teeth. His face contorted with pain, veins bulging blue and red beneath his skin. His eyes squeezed shut as tiny blood vessels burst one after another, while sweat poured over him like a river.

And the light show had begun. His Shadowlight spread across the surface of the enormous being that had trapped us here. It thrashed against Bastien's Authority, hurling tongues of every imaginable size and length at the shield provided by Milo, who wasn't in much better shape than Laurent by this point.

He leaned against the bat as it trembled, the enemy's assault against the barrier growing fiercer. The shield itself cracked under the relentless barrage, each pulse of Shadowlight flowing from Piotr sealing the fractures as they appeared, only to leave him weaker with every repair.

Tien faltered and dropped to one knee. Somehow, both Liana and I caught him, our hands brushing against another on the man’s back, while the other ones caught his biceps.

“You got this,” she whispered to him in an even voice, while I simply squeezed a little harder.

It took only a second. His eyes rolled back behind his eyelids, and he fell backward as if all the strings keeping him upright had been cut at once. His fall was stopped by both me and Lia, but I let her slide in behind him so she could take his full weight.

“It fucking worked!” Milo shouted, looking toward the hall where hundreds of tongues had covered everything. The ones lashing out at us in violent attacks disappeared into a freshly printed Polaroid, which I gracefully caught as it slid out of the mounted camera on Tien's forearm.

I took a few Light cards from my holder and let them fly into the distance, each casting a column of light from its painted face. What they revealed was the complete absence of the central pillar of muscle and the mouth embedded in the floor. The gap remained all the same, and the fall onto the calmer tongues below still looked thoroughly unappealing.

I caught the photo in both hands, ready to tear it apart, pinching it gently between my fingers. Before I did, though, I glanced at the people who had known Laurent far longer, and far better, than I had.

“Should I?” I asked.

“Yes. Kill this fucker,” Piotr said as he dropped onto the webbed platform.

“Are you okay?” Patricia asked, hurrying over and kneeling beside his head. She pressed two fingers against his neck, checking his pulse.

“I’m angry...” he said from where he lay. His eyes rolled upward to find her. His bat rested beside him, both hands folded over his chest, fingers interlocked. “But a bit happy too, that we're all fine.”

“A bit?” she asked.

I realized I still hadn't torn the thing apart, so I squared my shoulders and did it in one clean motion, throwing the fragments onto the fleshy mass below us. None of the eyes providing me with vision showed any sign that my action had brought the monster back, which I accepted with a proper amount of relief.

“Yeah. I thought we were doing well, that I… that we could beat the record, but we haven't made a single step up the staircase yet, and I'm spent. You almost lost your life. Tien is out cold. Mr. Lion King is at... how are you actually, Kito? Fine?”

“Been better,” the man replied, dropping onto his ass while staring into the distance where the staircase stood.

“He's been better. See?” Piotr continued. “Liora was almost squashed by ghostly tongues. Elle lost her minions. And the only one in remotely good condition is our Deer Queen Bee.” Liana smiled, though her eyes didn't match the expression. She held Laurent's head gently between her hands, keeping him steady as he lay there. “We're not going to make it. Makes me angry that they somehow beat us.”

“Before those Scandinavian freaks broke it, this record stood undefeated for fifteen years,” Patricia said, trying to comfort him. Piotr only wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“What was it before Einherjar set the new one?” Kito asked. “Anyone remembers?”

“One hundred and twenty-three hours,” Liana answered before I could. “That's a full day and a half longer.”

“You really think getting to the top would take us more than nine?” I asked.

“I think pissing will take me at least half an hour now,” Milo answered. “Not to mention sleeping it off so my soul can actually have some Authority again. I really need to take a shit too.”

“You're so gross.” Paulding stood up, waving a dismissive hand, then walked a few steps toward Kito, who sat at the edge of the platform with his feet dangling a meter above the tongues.

“It's a normal bodily function,” Piotr replied with a yawn. “I apologize for pushing us too hard.”

“I did the same, humans,” Liora added his own two cents. His scales were looking awfully washed out, his paws were still lacerated and partially exposed, making the flesh beneath look seared and bloodied, and yet he was showing a less narcissistic side of himself. “There is wisdom in approaching the unknown with the intention of trying to understand it before one rushes through it.”

NovelPhoenix publishes the author's chapter for readers, while this version was reproduced without their permission.

“Shush, Lio,” Piotr silenced him. “Personal growth is for losers who aren't strong enough the first time.”

“Don't listen to him.” Patricia scratched Liora's neck just below his horns. “He's joking.”

“I am,” Piotr replied.

A convulsion ran through me with such speed that I lost all my strength momentarily and collapsed onto the webbed floor. I was only vaguely aware of what was happening around me, of muffled voices shouting or whispering, of hands touching me, probing me, searching for any sign of me within my own body, of Liora's warmth laced with panic as he too tried to bring me back.

It was my connection to Alexa that had done this. She was realigning the link that bound us together, and through that I was caught in this strange luminal state, where my consciousness still existed, but was so far out of tune with the body it inhabited that any direct control was out of the question.

I felt something else reach out to me as well, coming as a wave of Shadowlight straight out of the Domain. When it reached my soul, it felt warm, but changing too. As if the very essence of my being was undergoing a process of rewriting. What had been only a suggestion before became more real with every passing second. Memories crystallized into stable constructs within the framework I had been using. Locked away before as anchors that merely designated where my soulmark of connection could take me, or what it could bring to me, they now flooded me with sensations.

One moment I was shut off from the world around me. The next I found myself within my Domain as it had once been. Just the small stump of a tower, with all my creations cluttered around it, rooms designated for me and my guests, with old Usagear hanging loosely from the hanger in the corner.

I reached toward it, realizing I existed within this place only as will itself. Before my intent could reach the suit, it broke apart into drifting filaments of Shadowlight. Everything else I had noticed within the Domain dispersed as well, as though a wave had rushed across it and revealed that it had all been nothing more than a reflection upon a still lake.

I opened all of my eyes to find Liora coiled nearby, sleeping, or drifting, whatever it was that he did. The others were lying down as well. Even Liana, who had been serving as lookout with me, was sound asleep.

We were no longer on the platform though. Instead, we were back inside the bunker from which we had begun our incursion into the splinter.

I looked at the clock above the door. Apparently four hours had already passed since I had lost myself for what had felt like only a few seconds. It was twenty past eleven, and we had only five hours and one minute left to beat the record.

And yet we were as far from the target as we could possibly be. It seemed Laurent must have woken at some point and teleported us back here with his editing tools. I sat up slowly so as not to wake anyone and focused inward once more.

[Soulmark of Connection has changed into Soulmark of Genuine Connection, Elle. Just as you felt.]

What does that mean for me exactly?

[Alexa is still struggling to realign all the links, but yours was the first she corrected. You should be in prime condition from now on, until the malady begins advancing again due to Discord's meddling.]

She'll have to redo the alignments every now and then. How long will it take?

[Difficult to say for now. Realigning you alone took her four hours, so it's safe to assume the first time will be quite time-intensive. Subsequent realignments may be easier and less demanding if performed at short intervals.]

There are hundreds of things connected to us!

[Yes, but not everything is as difficult as you Personas are. Simple tattoos, eyes, or minions take seconds or minutes only. And coming back to your question, which included the soulmark as well, right?]

Yes.

[It now connects you to memories, as they are depicted in art.]

My memories?

[Memories as a whole concept, not only yours. Be aware, though, that they are not physical places and are subject to deterioration over time, so visiting them could be dangerous. Taking things out of them is less so, but once separated from the memory they came from, they too would deteriorate when forced into reality.]

Wait, what? I can bring items from memories into existence?

[Or places, apparently. Those would disappear quickly, but yes, you can do that. They would be held together by your power over Identity, forcing them to accept not only that they are artistic representations, and that they are what they depict, but also that they... well, for the lack of a better word... properly exist again.] I could hardly believe what Anansi was telling me.

Does that mean I could have two Noxies present at the same time? Or even more, if I reached into different memories?

[I do not fully understand how it works, but I have a strong feeling that a memory tied to a particular object would allow you to summon that object from that specific memory in the state it existed then. If you wished to have more than one version present, the other memory would need to provide an iteration that differs enough from how the Universe remembers that object, not how you do.]

Makes sense.

I summoned the main version of the spellbook to myself. Inside it, I found the original depiction of the Usagear armor as it had been created before it was torn apart during my fight with the mad chef on the building bridge, and before I had lost the Kabuki version of the Usagi mask.

I pulled back my hood and focused on that mask in particular, the first thing I had ever consciously infused with my Identity Authority. I remembered that day clearly and the world responded to that.

Within a single heartbeat, Shadowlight poured out of me into the empty space before my hand, where ribbons of rainbow light danced for another brief instant before coalescing into the shimmering outline of the mask.

I caught it between my fingers, feeling it before I could even see it clearly. It took shape right before my eyes, as though the Universe itself had been handed an outline and was now carefully filling it in with proper paint. When it was finished, I held the mask exactly as I remembered it. White porcelain, black eyes, smears of paint I had left upon it and straps allowing me to fasten it over my head.

Yet the whole thing wasn't truly physical. I knew that in my soul.

It constantly tried to become a memory again. Shadowlight seeped from it while my Authority struggled to keep it tangible for as long as it could. Parts of it drifted in and out of physical reality, as though carried away by an unseen wind together with the escaping Shadowlight.

I placed it over my face. It remembered its magical purpose with perfect clarity, sharpening my sense of smell, my sight, and my hearing. All of which I immediately regretted in a place full of blood, sweat, and monster remains.

Only Kito and Liana smelled even remotely bearable, their insects crawling over their bodies, cleaning them as they slept—most likely following Liana's command.

The overlapping rhythm of everyone's breathing became overwhelming as well so I let the mask go. It dissolved from my face, breaking into countless tiny fragments that drifted away on streams of Shadowlight.

[This took approximately twelve percent of your Authority, meaning you could currently summon something roughly nine times more complex before exhausting yourself.]

How long would I be able to sustain it in this world, Ani?

[Around thirty-five minutes before your soul gives out.]

A good start.

“You are up?” Laurent whispered, turning around slowly and stretching his arms.

I noticed that Liana woke up as well. The movement behind her eyelids stopped, as did her steady breathing, for a few seconds before both resumed. She was pretending to be asleep now, listening in.

“I am. Must have collapsed from exhaustion.”

“They told me about it when I woke up. We both gave them quite a scare.” He slowly shifted into a sitting position. “I took a photo of us while we were on the platform and moved us into the one I took of this place. Neat, right?”

“Yes. Teleportation is an amazing ability. You are a lucky mage.”

“What’s even more fun is that I can pretty much just undo it with a simple button press and a command of my Authority, and we'd be back on the platform again.”

“You are a resourceful guy, Bastien.” I replied, raising my chin and letting my head tilt back slightly. “I’m really sorry that I used you, because that’s what I did. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you, because I do. It means I went into a good thing with bad intentions.”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt, but we aren’t kids. It would be foolish of me not to see my own fault in how I assumed our relationship would progress.”

“You just got defensive. I acted with premeditation.”

“Solitude makes us do silly things, right?”

“You mean your face too?”

“Oui. I was a handsome man. My father was too, and it was pure genetics. But I was also pretty introverted and didn’t like the attention it brought me. I thought people wanted to be around me because of how I looked, and that felt shallow. So when I got the power to change it, and that happened to coincide with me moving abroad to a new place, I did it without hesitation.” He smiled faintly. “These guys never saw what I looked like before. Not even Lia. I erased all the pictures. I’d never be able to go back to it. This is how I feel inside. I know it’s a lie, but isn’t there a grain of truth in saying that a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth?”

“Certainly in Ideworld,” I replied, lowering my head again so I could meet his gaze. “I don’t know how to do what you did. To change something, to give my Authority away so completely that it becomes the other thing’s own Authority. I always use unbound one.”

“You know how to coat yourself, but not how to do the basic thing? I thought everyone knew that. You apply it while willing the thing to become what you want it to be without your further control. You just... let go.”

“The need to stay in control is so ingrained in me that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that.”

“Did you ever consider therapy? It helped me... a bit.”

“No. Not really. Especially not with problems of a magical nature. Are there therapists for mages?”

“I don’t know any. The issues you face with yourself aren’t magical, though, so a professional might not need the whole picture to find the part that’s blatantly wrong with it. Details aren’t always important, and in the grand scheme of life, having or not having magic is just a detail.”

“You are a sensitive guy, Laurent. I’ll think about it.” My voice was apparently loud enough to wake Piotr. He yawned, stretched, and the moment he realized where he was, jolted into a squat. His eyes immediately darted toward the clock above the door.

“Wake the fuck up, everyone!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs, forcing everyone still asleep to abandon any hope of continuing. “We still have a chance!”