“Pity the villain who doesn’t speak before their own downfall.”
— Soninke saying.
<hr>
A cold dagger traced my spine as we stepped onto the first floor of the Spire of Darkest Dreams.
City skyline, stars, dinner table, fireplace, everything looks the-
“Nothing appears different from when we last visited,” Roland commented.
“Bothers me,” I agreed.
“It’s changing slowly,” Yvette’s fingers twitched as she explained. “It’ll become more pronounced on the next story. I can’t see the specifics,” her shoulders hunched. “I think… we’ll see enticements. Visions designed to tempt us into never leaving.”
“Stay vigilant,” I commanded.
“Can you break this?” Yvette’s voice wavered, and she clasped tight at her robe. “I don’t want to see whatever it’s going to show us.”
The sensation of a hot bath with scented soaps and rich chocolate suffused every part of me as I immersed myself in the Light. I smiled for a moment before my stomach dropped. Invisible claws scraped against the back of my throat. Space buckled like warped glass as I reached for the Light and funnelled the glow back into me. It was as if I had invisible bindings coiled around me. I strained against their clawing grasp. The constraints didn’t budge.
I swallowed.
“No,” I admitted. “The King of Winter is here.”
I could still use the Light. I doubted it was possible for anyone except the Gods to take that away from me. Even this was more than I expected the King of Winter to be able to do.
The bulk of his attention is probably focused on pinning me down.
“We should leave then,” both declared.
Defeat was bitter, but I wasn’t arrogant enough to challenge Winter in its domain.
“Agreed,” I bit back an oath and replied.
We turned.
There should’ve been an open door.
A starry expanse stretched behind us instead.
“I suspect,” Roland said in measured tones, “that our host is unwilling to grant us exit.”
I scrutinized the missing doorway under the Light for another quarter-hour before admitting defeat.
There were no seams to be found.
“I can’t undo this,” I shivered as I spoke. “We go ahead. Treat this like a fight with a powerful villainous Named. Monster, trial, pivot. We avoided the monster. This is the trial.”
It’s not an exact match, but it’s better than proceeding off nothing at all.
The others nodded like marionettes.
The pivot required no mention.
And we hope that we can talk our way out of this.
The unsaid words must’ve filtered through all of our thoughts.
“Remember the discussion?” I asked Yvette.
Roland always remembered our planning sessions. Yvette… needed reminders.
“What?” she quivered. “Oh, that, yes.”
“Repeat it,” I pressed.
“Stick to the plan, stay in touch. That good enough?” Yvette’s voice wavered.
“It is,” I confirmed.
Particoloured sparkles cascaded off the rainbow stairs as we climbed in silence towards the first floor.
Red flowers glistened with crystal dewdrops under the moonlight and carpeted a sleepy valley as we reached the landing for the first floor. Anemones and marigolds hugged the edge of a babbling brook.
“Beaumarais,” I breathed out. “This changed faster than I expected.”
Ice shattered between my fingers as I plucked one of the flowers to examine it closer. Blood spilled from red petals and rocks crunched underfoot.
Nothing is real. It’s all ice and darkness.
“The layer’s not supposed to shift this fast,” Yvette interjected. “This is deliberate. We can assume that-”
Shadows deepened.
“The King of Winter had a hand in this himself,” Roland finished. “We stand within the Knightsgrave.”
Eldritch tendrils pawed at my robe before the gloomy figure backed away.
My skin crawled.
“The apparitions aren’t alive,” I informed the others. “They have no dreams.”
“They are still weapons of the enemy,” Roland said.
“Where are the stairs?” I raised an eyebrow to Yvette as I inquired.
Inaudible voices crooned around us.
This isn’t tempting, it’s creepy.
“Give me a moment,” her breath frosted the air as she mumbled and scratched at her nose.
Yvette pulled out a silvered mirror after a few hundred heartbeats of rummaging through her pocket dimension.
“It’s either that way,” she pointed towards the town one whispered incantation later, “or that way,” she pointed towards where the wizard’s tower stood.
“Two directions?” I pressed.
“The results are muddled,” Yvette averted her eyes. “One thing is off, but I can’t quite… Ugh! It’s like a thread you can feel but can’t pull. Perhaps we should-”
“Good,” Yvette hugged herself and glanced around nervously as I interrupted her. “Thoughts?” I asked Roland.
“I suspect,” he ran a hand through his curly brown hair while answering me, “that the way forward either lies at my family’s house or at the foot of the wizard’s tower.”
“Where first?” I inquired.
“I had more fond memories of the home than the tower,” he replied.
“Let’s move,” I ordered.
Phantasmal grass crackled and parted as we proceeded towards the town.
The whispers became more pronounced.
“Breaks every tool,” shadows resolved into blurry outlines and danced around us as they hissed.
I glanced towards Roland. He’d hunched his shoulders and his fingers were clenched so hard that the knuckles had gone white. I pushed down the knot in my belly.
“These are your demons?” I rested a hand on his shoulder and asked in a soft voice.
He pulled away from me and flinched.
“Turns cheese sour,” they ran tendrils through my hair as they mocked.
Remain calm.
The shadows let out haunting cackles and backed away.
“They are memories from my past,” a hollow voice affirmed.
Yvette and I shouldn’t be here. We’re intruding on something private. Something that belongs to Roland and not us.
If anything, that spurred my decision to leave.
“Come on,” I encouraged. “Let’s go.”
The tall grass parted along a frozen footpath. The false sounds of crickets chirping and frogs croaking died as we entered the abandoned streets.
“Can’t even care for sheep,” the phantoms taunted.
I shuddered as one of them attempted to lick my ears. Both my temper and my aura flared. Innovate threaded the icy shackles like a needle finding a path through a Gordian knot. I stumbled as they tightened.
Contesting the King of Winter like that isn’t a good idea.
Ghosts whispered around us.
“Why this?” Roland whispered by a frozen fountain. “I’m more than my failures. Where are the enticements?”
“Deliberate,” I replied. “They’ll wait until you’re vulnerable.”
Shadows retreated as we entered a modest ice house.
“Olivier,” the shadowy image of my friend greeted Roland from the end of an unlit corridor, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Ignore it,” I said as we passed the kitchen.
“That’s no longer my name,” Roland insisted shakily as we checked the kitchen. “You’re dead. I buried you with my own two hands, brother.”
“I’m worse than dead,” the room darkened as the other Roland mused as we climbed to the second floor. “They call you a hero,” the phantom cackled. “You stole my magic, my future, my face, my very existence,” the simulacrum hissed venomously. “People think of you when they hear my name.”
“Would that it had ended otherwise,” Roland eyes glistened as he mourned. “It’s not here,” he declared. “Let’s return to the tower.”
“Olivier the leech,” the ghost sneered as we peered into the bedrooms. “Taking from those better than you is the sum of all that you are. You still have nothing to call your own.”
Roland stiffened.
“He’s a good man,” I argued. The stairs creaked underfoot again. “A better man than the one you ape.”
“Maybe I am a thief,” Roland’s voice wavered, “but there is virtue in taking from those who abuse their power in the defence of those who have none at all.”
“Don’t listen to it,” I insisted. “You’re more than that.”
A golden flash of sorcery lit up the interior.
“Ma’s right,” Yvette agreed, “Nothing it says is true. It’s designed to feed on your doubts. We should ignore it and look for the stairs. The less you say, the weaker it is.”
Roland’s mouth pressed into a bitter smile as it clammed shut.
“Think of us,” I continued and gestured to myself and Yvette. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”
“Where is Alisanne?” the phantom taunted as we passed through the frigid corridor again. “Did she abandon you like you abandoned your home?” The phantom grinned and looked at me. “No, you cast her aside for the affections of another pretty priestess. You’re nothing more than the right hand of a woman who will never return your feelings.”
What do I even say to that?
Roland’s said nothing. His fingers tightened around his coat.
The mist on the gloomy streets dampened my brow.
“You cannot escape the truth hidden in your own reflection, brother,” the simulacrum mocked from the door behind us, “no matter how fast you run.”
“It’s not following,” I said after checking over my shoulders.
“That is little comfort when the shadows return,” Roland responded with a shaky voice.
We picked up our pace as we left the city and climbed into the mountains.
“Olivier the inconvenience,” another shadow jeered.
I ducked as another tried to braid phantom flowers through my hair.
It ate the Light for its efforts.
I stifled a groan as splinters lanced through my mind.
“Olivier the failure,” one of the wraiths leaned forward and tried to kiss me as it sang.
An incandescent fountain sent it spiralling away as it tried to lay its palms upon my wrists. The weird obsession they had with me had become downright putrid in light of the added context. I tripped. Roland caught me and pulled me to my feet.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I brushed a strand of black hair away from my eyes.
“It’s no trouble,” he said as he avoided meeting my gaze.
“Run,” I ordered.
The crackle of grass intensified as we sprinted.
The foulness of the spire suffused me.
The shadowed silhouette of the tower pierces the sky in the distance.
“Olivier the jinx,” another figure whispered as I dodged its attempts to trip me again.
We panted our way towards the tenebrous tower. Shadows circled us like vultures overhead. The door creaked, then slammed shut behind us.
Nostalgia warred with unease within me. Dusty books, drying herbs, tables, and chairs cluttered the tower’s base. Every object placed as I remembered it on the day of my arrival. Only, warped. Twisted in a way that made it almost my memory, but not. Pages were coated in rime, herbs were frozen over, and chairs were wreathed in blackened fingers.
“Olivier,” Roland’s creepy clone turned away from a crackling cold hearth and smirked as it greeted Roland, “Back so soon?”
Roland hunched his shoulders and didn’t reply.
“You know,” the monster mused beside Roland while we searched the layer. “Nobody can leave this story unless you will it.”
We ignored the voice and canvassed the ground floor.
“All could be the way you remember,” the reflection continued. “The part of me that you liked could live again, brother.”
“I have no desire to remain trapped within my past,” Roland snapped.
“Next layer,” I told the other two.
“Parts of you want a family,” the spectre whispered dark temptations. “You could have one if you chose to stay.”
All three of us said nothing while we searched the empty dormitories on the first floor.
“You’ve taken so much in the service of others,” the creature drawled while stripping me naked with its eyes. “Why not take something for yourself.”
Cold tendrils danced down my spine like an army of spiders.
“I would never even consider as much,” disgust laced Roland’s voice as he protested without missing a beat.
Breathe. This is the Spire and not Roland, Taylor. Remember that.
“I never even implied as much,” the ghost laughed as it lied. “All you need to do is choose to stay here and with time her heart will be yours.”
My aura flared. I stepped towards the ghost. Space stretched as it flittered up the stairwell.
“I’ve heard enough,” I growled. “This ends here.”
My legs buckled as Winter pressed down on me.
Should I use a ghost here? No, it’s not worth it. Not when I might need it if we’re to escape our host.
“See,” the monster’s eyes sparkled with malevolent glee. “Nobody can leave unless you will it. You could have peace, a family, all the smaller parts of life you’ve fled from.” Its voice crackled like ice. “It wouldn’t even take you a year in this place to convince her.”
“Shed that face and defile my brother’s memory no longer,” Roland snarled.
Yvette helped me to my feet and pointed towards the hints of rainbow sparkles glistening at the opposite end of the stairs.
“Roland,” I tugged at the sleeve of his jacket as I addressed him, “let’s go.”
“There is nothing for us here,” Roland avoided my eyes and agreed.
The apparition of his brother blocked the way forward.
“Fleeing so soon, brother?” the ghost mocked. “I thought there was more fire to you. You are nothing more than the sum of what you take. Why not take what you want?”
Roland stilled.
His Dream shifted.
Wants to be more than what he steals.
“I am more than what I take,” he told the ghost. “I am more than the twisted mockeries of the darkest parts of my mind. Step aside,” He ordered in soft tones with eyes as hard as flint, “I’ll hear no more from you.”
“What about her?” our enemy taunted derisively. “I’m not so easily dismissed.”
“This is not about her,” Roland declared confidently.
“You would turn as-”
The creature shrieked. An incandescent flash of purple light burned through the wraith as Roland raised a hand and took something from it.
“No,” Roland’s voice was harder this time. “This is about whom I want to be.”
“Let’s go,” I ordered as I sprinted towards the spiral staircase, “who knows if it comes back.”
A stiff silence stole over our group as we ascended the wide rainbow stairwell.
What was I going to say? I felt violated by the previous floor and while I understood that Roland hadn’t created it and wouldn’t ever act on it, my disgust still remained. It might not be fair or rational, but it didn’t make the feelings disappear. I’d not be surprised if part of the intended effect of the layer was to divide our group.
We’d climbed halfway to the second floor before I called a halt.
“Stop!” I exclaimed, “we must discuss this.”
“I’m sorry for-” Roland cut off as I folded him in a hug.
“I know,” I told him. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“But-” his voice died as I squeezed tighter.
“It’s not you,” I insisted. “I won’t lie and say that it makes things better, but-”
“You two should go bar hopping together,” Yvette interjected with exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. “I’m sure ma can help you find someone. Or you can find someone yourself. It’s ridiculous how-”
“Yvie,” I growled at her. “Not the time.”
I let go of Roland and backed away.
“Why?” she retorted. “When else are you two-”
You were so much cuter a year ago.
“We need to discuss the dangers of the next layer in light of what we’ve seen,” Roland’s brown eyes met my own as he interrupted her.
Message received and acknowledged. We’ll talk about this more when Yvette isn’t around.
“Yes,” I acknowledged. “There’ll be a story for each of us,” I hesitated. “Mine will be some kind of dystopia,” the words crawled out of my mouth.
What I won’t say is that I expect they’ll become more challenging. Yvette wasn’t first. I don’t want to demoralize her.
“You dream of horrible civilizations?” Yvette’s eyes narrowed and her voice rose.
“I suspect it is the opposite,” Roland replied. “She dreams of a perfect world, and so it follows that the fae will present her with an illusion of one.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Knock sense into me if I forget that.”
“I doubt it will be so straightforward,” Roland disagreed. “That construct targeted multiple vulnerabilities…” he trailed off. “I suspect it would’ve been harder to resist if I hadn’t returned to Beaumarais at your urging.”
“I’m not sure what to expect,” Yvette muttered. “Visions of my parents? No, they wouldn’t hold up. A world with my problems solved? No, there’d be nothing for me to do. How about a library? No, too simple. Doesn’t solve my problems. I-”
“This place doesn’t solve problems,” I interjected, “but we’ll find out later.”
“I don’t like this place,” Yvette said as she clutched at her robes. “It was interesting to examine at first. Now I’m afraid I’ll get lost in it,” she shivered. “Everything keeps catching my eye. How do I know that I won’t look away for one moment and lose you two? We shouldn’t have come here.”
“We don’t either. Don’t let it get to you,” I insisted. “We’re together.”
“This spire wants us to imprison us or divide us,” Roland added. “We’ll succeed so long as we stick together.”
“Right,” I encouraged. “Let’s find Summer’s Sun before the King of Winter decides to start monologuing.”
And somehow placate the King of Winter in the process.
An uncomfortable wound had carved itself into the space between Roland and me as we ascended the remainder of the rainbow staircase. The last step ended on a tiled road. Roland gasped at the frozen modern metropolis around us.
I gasped for a different reason.
An ephemeral limb had attached itself to my consciousness.
I didn’t have direct control of it, but it did respond to my thoughts with a detached amusement.
How about a country lodge near the mountains instead?
The landscape rippled.
We stood at the foot of an illusory snowcapped mountain range beside a modest blackened wood cottage.
It appears that I can’t get rid of Winter’s influence from what I make.
“Why did the landscape shift?” Roland yelped.
I winced as he glanced around with a wild look in his eyes.
“My fault,” I explained. “The story responds to my thoughts.”
I tried to wield the Light and met no failure until I tried to dispel the illusion.
My shoulders slacked.
This isn’t perfect, but it’s better. It’s good to have some control over what we face. I suspect those emotions I detect belong to the King of Winter. It’s not good, but… we knew he’s here. Better to see the face of our enemy then move forward blind.
“That part didn’t change,” Yvette mused as she and pointed at a ruined city on the horizon. She nodded to herself after muttering a brief incantation. “The staircase is in that direction. Can you turn this into a flat plane? Then we can walk.”
I acknowledged her words with a stiff nod and pushed the thought at the floor.
It rippled once again.
“How about distance?” Yvette contemplated. “Can you shrink it? What about the night sky? Get rid of it or add clouds. Let’s see exactly what you c-”
“Clouds work. Shrinking space is out,” I denied. “Let’s get walking.”
I could feel Roland’s sullen glare several feet away from me at the back of my head as we approached the anomaly on the surface of a tiled plane.
Don’t look at me. I also don’t understand why I got a chamber that I can modify.
“The distance isn’t changing,” Yvette interrupted two minutes later. “We’re no closer than before. Perhaps we’re going about this wrong. Can you make a staircase instead?”
“I can’t,” I frowned as I replied.
“Look over there,” Roland gestured towards the ruins. “She looks like you did on the day I found you,” he noted.
A figure headed towards us from the ruins. One that I could almost — but not quite — feel with my weird additional sense.
“She doesn’t,” I replied.
A sense of angelic unease stole over me.
“She appears guarded and has the same mannerisms,” he clarified.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
“Angels warn me about her,” I said. “Should we act?”
“Do they want her dead?” Roland asked.
“They never do. Just caution,” I replied.
Roland turned towards Yvette and raised an eyebrow.
A tense moment passed as we waited for her to finish casting a spell.
“It’s not like your shadow, Roland,” Yvette muttered. “It’s more like Ma… only with all the wrong opinions.”
“Perhaps we should hold off on violence until we understand more,” Roland concluded.
“Are you sure?” I checked.
“Let’s not take any irreversible actions until we understand the purpose of this chamber,” he confirmed.
“Fine,” I acquiesced. “We don’t act until we know for certain, and we look for the exit in the meanwhile.” I paused. “I can feel her.”
“What do you mean?” Roland questioned.
“Like everything else here,” I explained. “Feeling’s not as strong but… I can almost change her.”
All three of us stopped as the figure clad in my old Weaver outfit drew near.
“Not impressed,” my clone folded her arms and spoke.
“She even has the same mannerisms,” Roland shivered as he spoke.
“It’s uncanny,” Yvette shuddered. “How do we know who is real? No, bad question. Ma would never wear something like that.”
That’s rude.
Yvette suddenly decided that the ground was interesting to examine as my duplicate glared holes into her.
Earned.
“Exit?” I tried to defuse the situation.
“Good clone,” she ignored my words, “convince me.”
… What?
I licked my lips and thought about what she’d just said. The realization poured over me like an icy shower. I’d experienced visions with a Good and Evil clone before. This shadow of me was implying I was the Good clone in a non-existent vision.
“Where’d you come from?” I checked.
“Great,” fake me whispered, “she’s stupid.”
This place has exceeded my weirdness threshold.
My heart clenched as the sense I had of my clone faded slightly.
“Look,” Yvette pointed to the horizon. “The distance to the ruins expanded.”
“The feeling also got weaker,” I warned the others.
I want that back. It’s like I’m losing control of a part of myself.
“What’s fake Ma implying?” Yvette asked.
“She’s pretending that I’m a figment of her imagination,” I clarified. “Like I’m the Good angel over her shoulder instead of a real person.”
“Perhaps you should play the part until we learn more,” Roland’s eyes darted from side to side as he suggested. “We’ve made no progress otherwise.”
… Fine.
What would be my most effective tool for persuasion? The landscape shifted around us into a metropolis once again. Fake people walked the streets.
“Walk with me,” I said as I strode towards the ruins. The feeling of progression mattered more than the fact that we didn’t make any headway. “Here’s my argument,” I swept my arms across the misted over glacier city.
“So tall,” Yvette sounded awed. “What kept these buildings standing? It reminds me of the Mirror City. What are these boxes on wheels? Or how about those poles? Or-” her voice trailed off as she examined the scenery.
“No religious symbols?” my clone asked as she raised an eyebrow at me.
Yvette and Roland examined my phantasmal construction as they followed behind.
“No need,” I explained. “Everyone’s on the same side.”
My stomach performed backflips as my mental hold on her intensified.
“Don’t require them if you win?” she mused. “Least you’re not gauche.”
A smile plastered itself onto my face as the distance shrunk and her star brightened in my mind.
Was I supposed to convince my clone to choose a side? Why did this layer of the spire invert the roles? Didn’t it make more sense to put me in the middle? Wasn’t that how those dreams worked? Perhaps the King of Winter was trying to sell me on Evil by framing it as if I couldn’t be more aligned with Good?
I’m not prepared to lose that fight.
“I think I need to convince her before we can move floors,” I explained to the others.
I hated how my stomach churned when Roland’s eyes narrowed.
The Spire created that vision.
He said nothing.
“Nice city,” my clone said as she nodded appreciatively. “Evil’s looks better.”
“No violence here,” I countered, “It’s a place with no suffering.”
Why didn’t that shift her allegiance at all? It would’ve influenced me.
“Not possible,” she argued.
“It is,” I disagreed. “Start with a benevolent government.”
“Won’t work,” she dismissed as we passed under the shadow of a skyscraper. “Some people are naturally awful.”
Should I try to change her mind on this? I’d thought more on the subject and came up with a solution that suited my purposes. I expected that my suggestion wouldn’t be well received because she didn’t share my perspective.
“You believe that we are all born Evil?” Roland asked as he toyed with a fire hydrant some distance away.
“Some people are,” she clarified.
Don’t lie to yourself here.
“There’s a long term solution,” I bit my lip as I explained. “One that requires Good to rule every nation first. An international vote to expose everyone to Compassion from that point onward.”
It didn’t surprise me that both Roland and Yvette looked unsettled by my words. I didn’t expect many people would approve of my idea any time soon.
“So take away their free will?” she asked.
My fingers clenched as the distance expanded and my connection with her dimmed.
“No,” I protested. “The inability to do Evil is different from the inability to choose.”
She ran a hand through her locks and opened her mouth. I raised a hand and concentrated.
Roland clenched his fingers a few feet away as the cityscape shifted into a hedge maze with snow crusted leaves.
“You’re in a maze,” I began. “Here’s an intersection. You can move left or right. Do you have no choice?”
“Not if there’s only one exit,” the grey armoured girl replied.
The leaves shifted around to allow us the illusion of forward movement.
“The maze has always had one exit,” I countered. “Everything ends. Removing the ability to do Evil is like removing bad branches from the maze. Nobody wants hydra pits in the maze.”
“The hydra pit repairmen disagree,” Yvette muttered under her breath. “You’re stealing their income.”
The distance shrank and the connection to the other me pulsed brighter as Yvette spoke.
Okay, that joke is a little funny.
“There are other jobs,” I patted Yvette on the shoulder as I answered her. “Not all choices should be allowed.”
“Look at the maze,” Other Taylor declared. “See the flowers hidden between the leaves. Their beauty comes from the contrast between them and the green.”
“A bouquet is beautiful,” I countered, “and it only contains flowers. Evil doesn’t need to exist for Good to have meaning.”
Star flared, space shrunk.
The shattered buildings are only a couple of hundred feet away.
“Almost there,” I told the other two.
Something flickered behind Roland’s eyes.
I beat mental fists against my emotions when he averted them the moment I looked his way.
This place is like a cruel joke I’m forced to laugh at. We’ll sort this out. I won’t allow an illusion created by the King of Winter ruin our friendship.
“There would be no violence if people couldn’t even conceive of hurting others in the first place,” Roland murmured. “However, it’s hard to judge if it’s worth the cost.”
“It’s better than relying on a government to prevent wrongdoing,” I said from beside a snow car.
“There’s a difference between making something illegal and removing the ability to imagine even doing it,” fake me protested as the maze turned back into a metropolis again.
My nails bit into my palms as space ballooned and life leached out of the star.
No!
How could I convince her of this? She had to see my way. I could do it. I needed the vindication.
“The difference is academic,” I argued. “There are things that are impossible for us. Things we can’t even imagine doing. Our inability to make those choices doesn’t infringe on our free will.”
The ruins vanished as my sense of my clone dimmed from a star into a street light.
Perhaps persuading myself is harder than I thought.
“Taylor,” Roland said, “this argument distracts from the mission.”
“Just a moment more,” I sighed. “I can convince her.”
“Even the fae hated Arcadia,” Yvette quipped.
Thank you for undercutting my argument.
“The fae know there are choices they can’t make,” I countered with a glare. “What if that awareness didn’t exist at all?”
“I don’t know about the fae,” other me mused, “but that sounds horrible. Evil clone liked mind control too.”
“Not the same,” I insisted. “You’re asking for consent first.”
Yes!
Triumph swelled through me as the connection intensified.
“Fair,” she acknowledged. “At least they’ll agree to have no free will. How do you define Evil?”
That’s not… never mind. It’s a win. She’s fine with it.
The angels nudged me again.
“Taylor,” Roland repeated without looking me in the eye. “We’re going nowhere.”
“A moment, Roland,” I replied. “I’m progressing. Compassion’s definition works.”
“Swear off violence,” she challenged.
“I would if everyone else did,” I argued.
Brighten and shrink.
“Sharing your stories did more harm than good,” she leaned against a lamppost and declared.
“All I did was give people more choices,” I responded. “They were the ones who chose.”
Dull and stretch.
“Don’t abnegate responsibility for your own actions,” she sounded incredulous.
The cold mirage city — minus one crystal lamppost — transformed into a wintry hedge maze again.
“There are more paths,” I raised my arms and expounded. “Some have hydra pits. The pits are labelled and fenced in. It isn’t the fault of the gardener if you climb over the fence.”
Nobody earns a Name without strong convictions about something to begin with.
“Bad analogy,” she countered. “You’ve given children sharpened knives and let them loose on an orphanage.”
“You’re either arguing the people of Creation are too stupid to make decisions, or you''re arguing against free will,” I mused.
Come on, come on, come on. I can convince myself of this. I need to convince myself of this.
Brighten and shrink.
“No,” she retorted, “lots of bad things happened, and it’s your fault.”
“Taylor-”
“Just a moment” I interrupted Roland. “Blaming me is like blaming our grandfather for the choices we make,” I said.
“You’ll shoot another baby if the Gods tell you to?” she shifted the topic.
So you shift the topic the moment it looks like you’re about to lose the argument.
The nudging became more insistent.
What? I’m trying.
“TAYLOR!” Roland shouted.
The connection faded again.
“You’re making this more difficult,” I towards him and growled.
“Am I?” he took me by the shoulders and asked. “I don’t think I am.”
The connection faded a second time.
“It’s weakening,” I explained.
“Well?” Other me pressed. “What’s your-”
“That’s not important,” Roland interjected.
“What about convincing her?” I challenged. “We agreed that’s the goal.”
“There is-”
My fingers clenched as the connection almost blackened entirely.
“You guessed,” Roland interrupted again. “Tell us where the staircase is,” he addressed Yvette.
“I’m not stick-”
“It’s her,” Yvette interjected. “This makes no sense. The spell says the staircase is her. How does that even-”
Oh.
The frigid breath of Winter traced the hairs on the back of my neck.
“I think,” I whispered, “that I’ve justified enough.”
The phantom howled as it burned under the Light.
A haunting laugh echoed in my mind as the presence which allowed me to modify the floor pulled away.
A rainbow staircase appeared in the phantom’s place a moment later.
“What was what?” Yvette asked in a hesitant halfway up the spiral stairwell. “Can you explain your dream? It made no sense. There was nothing interesting there. Why do you dream of arguing with yourself?”
“We thought wrong,” I explained. “What are our darkest dreams? They’re our vices. That manifested as…” I licked my lips. “A debate that I couldn’t win,” I whispered. “My reflection put up enough of an argument to keep me invested, but not enough so I changed my mind.”
“We will all face parts of ourselves we’d prefer for nobody else to see,” Roland placed a reassuring palm on my shoulder as he murmured.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Let’s not… let’s not judge each other for what this place tempts us with.”
“Did you mean what you said?” Roland inquired.
“About what?” I replied.
“That you wish to expose everyone to Compassion,” he clarified.
“Only if they vote for it,” I hunched my shoulders and repeated.
“Will they even be themselves after?” Roland’s voice was thick with doubt.
“No,” I admitted. “They’ll change, but it’s their choice.”
“Your plan might prevent Evil,” Roland said. “But would you be happy with it? The Taylor I met wouldn’t.”
You’re right.
“Maybe,” I prevaricated. “This layer has… given me things to think about.”
The remainder of the ascent to the third floor proceeded in silence.
The staircase terminated on what I could only describe as insanity given life.
We arrived at an island in a sea of inky blackness. An island of ice crusted books and scrolls and loose pages that sprawled out in all directions beneath our feet. Shadowy scribbles and figures and symbols stretched across from one tome to the next. Gloomy tendrils traced hints of glyphs into the air before us, only for them to fade away moments later. Books dove in and out of the umbral tides, only to take flight and soar through the night sky.
“Yvie,” I addressed her, “where’s the exit?”
She bit her lip and traced silver symbols into the air.
“I think…” her voice trailed off as a flying scroll struck the side of her head.
A symbol flared red. She growled and began casting once again.
“I think…” her voice cut off a second time as she stumbled when the books beneath us shook.
“Ahhhhh,” she huffed and brushed aside a golden lock. “I think…”
Her eyes lost focus, as a phantom sigil traced itself in the air before her.
A thunderous detonation sent her stumbling to the floor.
Third time is a pattern.
I was beside her and cradling a broken arm in less than an eye blink.
And of course the restrictions are back again.
I bit back an oath when my attempts to heal her met spacial complications.
Innovate had better do something here!
Unreality warped.
The Light twisted with it.
One dead end.
Another.
Another.
Thirty heartbeats of nothing but futility passed.
I started progressing a few mental knots later.
My head turned into a blinding headache as at last my healing took.
“No spells,” I ordered.
“But-”
“Doing anything with the Light is hard here,” I interrupted her protest. “And our host won’t let you.”
“Fine,” Yvette huffed and pouted.
The sullen glare didn’t move me at all.
“This place is alien to all of us,” I continued. “We’ll search it one corner at a time and see what we can find.”
Half an hour later and the atmosphere of the… Eternal Library — for want of a better name — had become suffocating. The whisper of crackled pages, the sound of quill on paper and the sloshing of ink. A stillness that I could drown in pervaded every corner of the room.
There were always more books.
And the books were always moving.
Yvette’s eyes flitted from one book to another.
“The text on those manuscripts changes whenever I blink,” she muttered. “Why does it keep changing? I can’t read all of it that fast. I’m certain to miss something.”
“That’s by design,” I explained.
“It’s awful,” she pouted.
Her fingers quivered like electrocuted cockroaches. She reached up and absently grabbed a tome that flew past her face on icy paper wings.
“Oh!” she perked up and exclaimed. “This one’s about the fall of Kerguel. It refutes the commonly held belief that the city fell to the Gods and instead asserts that-”
“Yvie, focus,” I chided her. “Remember?”
“Yes, yes” she muttered under her breath as she let go of the book. “Yvie, focus,” she mimicked my voice as she whispered. “Yvie, ignore the books. Yvie, put aside your interests and do what we want.”
Yvette’s nightmare isn’t scary; it’s just sad. She’d enjoy being trapped in here.
“We’ll stop and do something together later,” I said softly as I laid a palm on her shoulder. “Something for you.”
“You heard that?” she squeaked and turned beetroot red.
“I did,” I confirmed. “Close your eyes if it''s too much. I can always lead you by hand.”
“No!” Yvette’s face lit up as she exclaimed, “I don’t need help. I can manage on my own.”
It’s like she’s forgotten our mission entirely.
“Maybe,” I acknowledged. “It’s easier together.”
She avoided meeting my eyes.
The sound of inky shadows sloshing against tomes died away as we passed through a narrow valley of books and into a grotto of pages.
“Are you sure we can’t stop?” Yvette grumbled mulishly. “We just ignored a historical treatise on old titan ruins. Or how about that-”
“It starts with one,” I interjected.
“Taylor is correct,” Roland agreed. “That is how this place will ensnare you in its web.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Yvette sputtered in protest. “Come on! Just one book! How is that addictive? Besides, it’s not like knowledge ever ruined anyone’s life… right? Why-”
“Do you think that you’ll ever find what you’re looking for here?” I countered.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Well, possibly. With enough time. There are plenty of other useful pieces of information buried here that we could benefit from uncovering.”
“This island of false promises will only ever provide you with the barest of fruits,” Roland challenged.
Yvette puckered her lips and pouted but said little more.
The false cavern sloped downwards and hollowed out into an open chamber with a mountain of literature in the middle.
“Look over there,” Yvette pointed up the slope as she spoke. “I think that’s a shadow of me. Does this mean we’re at the end? I hope it’s the end because I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
A shadowy copy of Yvette stood at the peak.
I’m not hesitating to kill it this time.
The Light surged and twisted and strained against the distortion. Specks of frost lined my skin as the King of Winter’s grasp on space intensified. I transformed myself into a fountain of directed radiation — a river of Light straining against its bank — and the bank caved under the pressure. I panted and collapsed as a lance of agony dug its claws into my mind.
There. Good. It’s gone. It’s gone.
Yvette’s clone ate a wave of Light as it opened its mouth to speak.
“You shouldn’t listen to Taylor,” another shadowy figure whispered from behind us.
A second actinic beam burned the shadow away.
“When has she ever let you do what you want?” a third voice sang from our left.
I grit my teeth as it disappeared in a flash.
“A real family would let you grow up,” a fourth cajoled from our right.
Yvette’s eyes darted around the mountain of books like a caged animal looking for an escape.
I clenched my fingers as the next fountain of radiance erased it from the stacks.
“She can’t kill us,” a fifth apparition mocked from above. “None of you can.”
“Ignore it and look for the exit,” I ordered. “It’s like Roland’s shade all over again.”
“I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to hear this,” Yvette muttered to herself, “ignore the spectres. Look for a way out. Nothing they say is worth listening to.”
“Don’t leave yet,” the creature continued. “Time doesn’t move in this place.” Yvette’s walking slowed.
“Roland,” I barked. “You try killing it.”
Arrows of red and gold surged from a rod and struck against the shrouded figures.
“Stop!” Yvette wrung her hands as she exclaimed, “all the books. You’ll set the books on fire. Think of the damage!”
“They aren’t real!” I protested.
“How do you know that for sure?” Yvette challenged. “They might be. I haven’t checked. There’s so much that you''re risking destroying.”
“I’m more worried about how we’ll get out,” I retorted.
We summited the stacks and descended towards another parchment archway on the other side.
The phantom figures faded back into existence only a moment later.
“You can read as much as you want,” the turning of pages rustled as we rounded another corner.
A ladder of hard cover spines protruded from the rightmost wall towards a gap in the paper ceiling.
“There,” I gestured towards the umbral light streaming down from the hole.
“There are no consequences for staying here,” the scribbling of quills whispered.
The rush of ink intensified as I pulled myself through a parchment porthole and onto a paper ship. Scroll sails billowed in an imaginary breeze. Lines of cryptic text annotated the otherwise empty deck.
This better not be a dead end.
“Yvette,” my voice rose, “don’t listen to it.”
“Is that true? ”Yvette shouted out.
“Where do souls go after death? How to protect the people you love? How to end the Ratling hunger? What did the titans know? You can find all those answers and more,” the ink sloshed, “if you choose to stay and read awhile.”
“It’s lying to you,” I said as I grabbed the spine of the cabin door handle and tugged.
It didn’t budge.
We entered a dusty room after a concentrated ray resolved the problem.
Where is the staircase to the next floor?
“Your mother’s going to live forever,” a tenebrous figure said from behind an icy desk. “How are you going to make her proud without an eternity to figure it out?”
Yvette halted.
“There’s nothing stopping us from leaving afterwards?” she bit her lip and asked.
“Nothing at all,” the shadows purred. “You have eternity to find what you want.”
“Yvie,” I called out.
She didn’t meet my eyes.
“Yvie,” I repeated.
She took one hesitant step towards another book.
“Yvie!” I shouted.
She swallowed and slowed.
“Yvette,” I pleaded. “Trust me. Listen to me. Please.”
“Perhaps one of the books can tell us how to leave,” she prevaricated as she reached towards a thick tome.
“They won’t,” I argued. “I’m already proud of you. You know that.”
“There are troubles you wish to mend,” Roland interjected. “You cannot face any of them while imprisoned in this place.”
“It only needs to be a short stay,” she clutched a book tight against her chest and protested. “Until I learn what I need to know.”
Gods, I’m praying that this works.
“Can you check if time is truly standing still?” I asked.
“I can,” she confirmed, “but not without casting a spell.”
“There’s no need to do that,” one of the shadows urged. “Trust us.”
“If time is really standing still,” Yvette said, “then you should be fine with me checking.”
Shadows dashed back and forth.
The rustling of pages became more insistent.
Don’t let the King of Winter interfere with it in a way that’s catastrophic.
“Yvette,” I said as my mouth ran dry. “I’m shielding this room in a barrier.”
“Don’t do that,” she shook her head vehemently as she spoke. “We saw what happened when you healed me. This is about as complicated.”
“Prepare the detection spell,” I ignored her and kept elaborating, “and find us a way out.”
“Pick up the book,” a shadow insisted. “Your mother will calm down once she sees it’s fine.”
Wintry chains twisted and pulled at me as I tried to weave the Light into a shield. Reality rippled and snapped against me for my temerity. My body dispersed into a cloud before reforming. Yvette’s eyes widened. The book she held thudded against the ground.
This isn’t working. I’ll take the risk to protect her.
I called and Persevere answered.
A silver barrier shimmered into existence around us a moment later.
“Now Yvette!” I exclaimed.
One hand’s fingers danced as she incanted her spell. The other reached into the place she stored her possessions. Hundreds of spectres surrounded my shield and whispered temptations from beyond the barrier.
“They’re lying,” Yvette whimpered as the first of her spells completed. “It’s not… none of it is true, and I almost fell for it.”
She closed her eye and clutched the mirror so tight that her knuckles had gone white.
Another heavy press against my barrier broke me into a diffuse cloud again.
One of the symbols shattered at my touch.
I’m sorry.
“I can do more than make mistakes,” Yvette cursed as she fumbled her spell. “I’m not just a forgetful mess.”
I pulled parts of myself away from her ritual as the weight of a glacier pressed down upon me.
“Roland and Ma are relying on me,” Yvette muttered. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.”
My barrier shattered.
Yvette did her best to balance as the paper boat rocked.
Shadows swarmed inwards.
I struggled against our host again.
Roland pulled out a rod and coated the shadows with flames.
Purple sigils thrummed and cascaded outwards as the spell completed.
“That way!” she pointed and shouted.
We sprinted as if death itself hounded our every step.
Out the cabin, down the hatch, through the caverns.
Yvette pointed, we ran.
The world became a blur.
Shadows laughing, cajoling, burning under magic and miracles.
“I think,” I said as we footed the base of the rainbow staircase, “that I have some complaints for our host.”
Yvette collapsed into a heap on one of the steps and sobbed.
“Hey,” I sat down beside her and hugged her with one arm. “It’s going to be okay.”
Roland sat on one of the stairs a few feet away and rested his legs.
The first vision wasn’t his fault, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable.
“But it’s not,” she wailed. “I’m the one who keeps dragging you down.”
“Why do you think that?” I asked as I rubbed her back.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she hiccoughed. “You both did fine. I’m the one who almost gave in. I’m the one you needed to save.”
Yvette wants reassurance and not answers.
“That’s not true,” I denied. “You helped us navigate our visions.”
“It is true,” she spat.
We sat like two rocks for a while. I waited in silence for the tension to drain from her.
Her shoulders relaxed.
“Is there anything else you want to say?” I pressed.
Yvette’s eyes adopted a faraway expression as she thought it over.
“Later,” she said with all the enthusiasm of a moving sloth, “when we’re not in this place,” she shuddered.
“Later, then,” I replied.
A brief discussion on how to approach the next level didn’t yield much we could use. Stick to the plan. Don’t offend our host. Don’t start a fight. Follow our rules.
The staircase beckoned.
A heavy teak door set into a granite wall blocked the top of the passage.
It groaned as Roland pushed it open.
My hackles raised.
The room was nothing but blue ice.
Where’s our host?
“Check for Summer’s Sun,” I ordered.
Best not to turn away from the opportunity.
“Are you certain it’s wise to proceed?” Roland questioned while he examined an intricate ice armoire on the far left of the room.
“We’ve already resolved to steal from a fae Prince,” I said.
“There’s a difference between a Prince and the King,” Roland shook his head as he cautioned.
“I’ve had enough of this so-called adventure,” Yvette muttered beside a frozen painting on the right-hand side of the room.
“I know,” I paused and ran my fingers along the frozen dinner table in the centre of the chamber, “do you have a better suggestion?”
“We take a seat and wait,” Roland suggested. “Then our host cannot fault us for poor manners.
My lips pressed into a line as I mulled it over. Summer’s Sun had become essential to our plans, but… perhaps we could negotiate for it.
“Sounds good,” I agreed.
I pulled up one of the frozen chairs at the long table and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I’m almost at the end of my patience.
I blinked.
A slender man with wavy black hair was seated at the far end of the table on the frozen throne.
We turned towards the figure.
The King of Winter’s presence gripped the room like frost creeping over glass. Every breath cut like knives scraping down my throat. The weight of his eyes settled upon us like a mountain resting on a needle.
He held a carved wooden dove with sapphire eyes on an open palm towards me.
The sapphires gleamed.
Adrenaline surged through me as my companions toppled against the hoary table like puppets who’d had their strings cut.
“Taylor,” the King of Winter spoke. “It’s time we had a little chat, don’t you think?”