3.04 – Reverie


    It was an impressively oundish exnation, and delivered in Ana’s monotone, somehow more impactful, not less. The room stewed in silence for a few moments, digesting the im.


    Liz tittered, high pitched and nervous. “And, like I said, it’s <em>seriously </em>sphemous to present as if it’s real.”


    “I did no such thing.” Ana seemed confused by Liz’s reaction. “Natalie asked, and I exined. Though, I <em>would</em> argue there’s insufficient evidence to support <em>any</em> religion. So from a logical perspective, the Reverie-Siphon Hypothesis has as much credibility as anything else.”


    Liz shot a panicked look at Natalie, then Sofia and Jordan, as if seeking support.


    Natalie sympathized with her concern, even if she didn’t share it. She didn’t much care about what was considered sphemy or not. Her parents had forced her to church growing up, but she’d never been <em>religious</em>. She epted the gods in a nominal way; mostly, she didn’t think much about it. Not an unusual practice, these days. The years of Valhaur’s monolithic religious practices hade to an end, or, if not that, at least to their twilight years. Maybe the gods had existed at some point, but if so, they’d been dormant for a long time.


    Which, uh, she supposed would make sense with this oundish theory. Not that she believed it. It was a little far fetched.


    Only finding shrugs and sympathetic looks from her teammates, Liz turned back to Ana. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”


    Ana waved her hand. “It’s what the mural depicts. We <em>need</em> to talk about it.”


    “I meant the, ‘the Harvest is as possible as anything else, including our religion’. That’s ridiculous.”


    It made sense Liz had more traditional values than Natalie and her friends. She was a member of the Beaumon family. The literal royal family, even if their titles were antiquated. Tradition and royalty went hand in hand.


    “Back it up a few steps,” Natalie said, focusing on the meaningful part of the discussion, and also trying to defuse the situation. “Details, please? The Architect harvested our gods to make the System? What does that mean, exactly?”


    Ana turned to Natalie, still confused from her interactions with Liz, and why Liz had be uncharacteristically insistent that Ana sanitize what she was saying. The girl <em>was </em>a bit clueless. Even she should be able to recognize why questioning someone’s religion would have them on edge. The only reason Natalie, Sofia, and Jordan didn’t also care was because, frankly, they weren’t religious.


    “There’s not much to it,” Ana said. “I’ve already sinctly summarized. And though ancient records are unreliable, there <em>is </em>an interesting amount of evidence that suggests the withdrawal of the gods urred near the same time the system was put into ce.”


    “This is thousands of years ago,” Natalie said. “There’s records of that?” Never mind the other ims—that the system was ‘put into ce’ and hadn’t always existed. She did, as most people, notice how it fit incongruently with other naturalws, and so she adhered to the belief of an ‘Architect’ who designed it, separate to the ‘Maker’ of the natural world, but the timeline and <em>how</em> was questionable to say the least. Even Valhaurian teachings didn’t agree with each other.


    “Inconsistent trantions, yes,” Ana said, “and partial, but records nheless.”


    “Emphasis on <em>inconsistent</em>,” Liz said, “and <em>partial</em>.”


    “Indeed,” Ana said. “In the same way many Valhaurian holy texts are doubtful in uracy and trantion.”


    She gave the retort in a totally impassive manner, as if this were an academic debate and not something Liz clearly held as a personal belief. Natalie grimaced the the continuedck of empathy.


    “Regardless,” Ana continued, “the mural depicts it. Thus this topic needs to discussed.”


    Natalie edged in before Ana’s frankness caused further problems. “And those seven?” she asked. “The gods above the rest. The Upper Pantheon is made up of ten. So why’re there seven?”


    “Those aren’t the Valhaurian Upper Pantheon,” Ana said. “Those are the Passions.”


    “The Passions?”


    “The Theliosian equivalent of our Upper Pantheon,” Jordan said. Natalie was surprised that she’d only now entered the fray. Usually this sort of thing would be right up Jordan’s alley. She didn’t ‘have an interest in religions’ as Ana imed, but she was generally well informed. “Theliosians worship the gods of emotions above all others, unlike us.”


    “Much of the world does,” Ana said. “The Theliosians are far from the only.”


    “And the Passions are what?” Natalie asked. “Or who, I guess.”


    “In Valhaurian terms?” Ana pursed her lips. “Not all have direct equivalents. Groupings of aspects, names, lineage—after so much time, I’m certain no religion has an urate ounting.”—Liz made a distressed noise, which Ana continued to ignore—“And more to the point, I’m intrigued by these three, who seem to be waking. Why?”


    A sudden suspicion hit Natalie. Her stomach sank. “Those three?”


    “Rage, Greed, and,” Ana peered at thest of the figures. “Lust.”


    Ah.


    The dungeon had chosen to depict a mural of the Harvest. A mural in which the goddess of lust was ‘stirring to consciousness’ after a long, supposed-to-be-permanent sleep, which the Architect had organized.


    Was it a coincidence? Natalie suddenly remembered the strange circumstances of how she’d been given her ss. The Bestower’s words, the nature of her ss in general. Combined with this?


    Natalie felt vaguely nauseous. Then again, maybe it wasn’t warranted. Who said this meant anything? It was a puzzle fabricated by the dungeon; it had zero guarantees of uracy. Even Ana, who apparently ‘had an interest in religions’, talked about the Reverie in removed terms, not convinced at the theory’s uracy.


    Still, she shared a look with Jordan, whose eyebrows were raised. She’d patched together the implications. How Natalie’s ss might rte to this.


    “I wonder why it’s showing us this,” Natalie said. “And why three are waking.”


    “The dungeon presents puzzles aligned to its delvers,” Ana said, making Natalie’s heart jump. The follow-up calmed her. “Thus, I have to assume, this one was given to me, because of my interest in the subject.”


    Probably not presented to her alone. Both of them. Ana, for her theological knowledge, and Natalie for … another potential reason. Though she had no guarantees.


    She itched to question Ana, but she didn’t want to draw suspicion. She’d talk with Jordan about itter. Look more into this ‘Reverie-Siphon Hypothesis’ on her own time. The details of her ss might get out, eventually, and Natalie showing too much interest in this mural could be suspicious.


    Because she didn’t trust Ana. Not that she <em>dis</em>trusted her, but certainly not trust. The same to Liz, for all she was easy to get along with. Natalie didn’t think of herself as suspicious by nature, but she didn’t go blindly trusting people she’d known for only a week. Especially politicians, as most T students were.


    They stood in silence, Ana, and the rest of them, inspecting the mural. The seven pirs, buttons on top of each, were clearly how the puzzle was meant to be solved. But what was it asking? Did they get one chance, one button press?


    If so, though she didn’t know the full logic of the puzzle, Natalie suspected which they should start with. Even if none of this was guaranteed to be built on a factual basis, it couldn’t be coincidence this had been shown to her, and that ‘Lust’ was one of the figures waking.


    So. The first button press seemed obvious.