I've been getting tortured nightly for four days now. I think that's enough to qualify as routine.

I guess you could argue I've been tortured for three or eight days just as easily, because time is… different for me. As is consciousness. I was tortured treeside Sunday night, then hurt all day Monday, then was tortured treeside Monday night… and so on. Now it's Thursday. Not getting to rest is really weighing on me, on top of everything else. In some ways it helps the routine settle in, though: no time to reset, to clear my mind, to take a moment to say 'wait a minute, this is probably not how things should be.' Which is good. I don't want to think about that. There's nothing I can do about it, after all. Better to just accept it as reality.

Valerie strong-armed me into testing a few things yesterday. She dragged me over to her house after school and forced me to take a nap so she could test for solutions. Results were mixed. Some of her spells actually do transfer over to my other body; generalized buff spells, in particular. Magic that makes me stronger or faster works, though it doesn't help me get out of a cage at all. Magic that helps me heal also seems to work, though not on soul pain. The best we found was a specialized spell that automatically retaliates against anyone else that casts a spell on me. That worked too, but the problem is that it didn't work well enough. The moment the magic was discovered, well… the Death mage did something. My torturer 'killed' the spell duration, I guess, ending it prematurely, and then just continued on as normal.

We got a good zap on him, but it wasn't any more than a little petty revenge. He was irritated, not disabled, and the rest of that day went much worse as a result. And now he's ready for whatever else we try… not that it matters.

Other magic we tried to send through the link failed to transfer or just failed to work at all. Basically, spells seem to work between universes if their basic concept is to apply some sort of attribute to the entirety of whatever conceptually counts as 'me,' but anything that only applies to my body only works on earthside. So then we tried designing spells to that specification to get around the limits, but the result was just that they failed to work. There are apparently some hard conceptual limits to the kinds of spells Valerie's magic can create, and we still don't know what all of them are. It seems to be enough to directly screw me out of escaping this particular situation, and when I pointed that out the Goddess laughed at me. I don't know if that means I'm right or not, but it still kind of killed our motivation.

So… despair it is, I guess.

"Hannah?"

It's fine. If anything, the situation feels familiar. Before my life was a mess of panic and excitement, it was kind of like this: dull depression with a side of resignation to my fate. Sure, the pain is making it hard to think and focus, and yeah, it's bad enough that I can't even handle easy stuff like schoolwork, but who cares about school anyway? Who cares that I'm starting to underperform at my job? Why would any of that matter, in the face of knowing I'm going to either get slowly tortured to death or end up turning into a person that the me of today would hate? Why would any of it matter when my life is so messed up that the idea of a future where any of those normal things apply is laughable? Honestly, I don't know why I've bothered to keep up with it until now.

…Okay, yes I do. Because it's routine. I'd still be doing homework and working hard at my job if I could actually wrap my brain around anything other than this all-encompassing pain and exhaustion. I'm still trying to go through the motions, after all. I'm going to keep moving like this, like a twitching puppet with ever-crumbling joints, until everything finally falls apart for good.

I'm not sure if I want that to be soon or not.

"Oi, Hannah!" Autumn hisses from where she's been jogging beside me. "What the fuck is going on? Are you high?"

"Huh?" I blink, realizing I've just been jogging in silence for a while and she has tried to get my attention a couple times. Goddess, my whole body aches. I don't want to do this gym class stuff. I don't want to run. I don't want to do anything.

"I asked you what the fuck is going on," she growls.

I take a moment churning those words around in my head.

"...Jet?" I guess. "Hey. I haven't seen you in a while."

"No shit you haven't seen me in a while," she growls. "What day is it?"

What day is… oh. Oh, gosh. A little surge of adrenaline sends shivers down my spine, forcing my groaning brain into some semblance of functionality. 'What day is it?' That is not a normal thing for Jet or Alma to have to ask.

"It's Thursday," I answer firmly. "Sorry, I'm really out of it. What do you remember?"

"I remember the last time we had gym class," Jet hisses. "That's it. Locker room to locker room."

"...That was two days ago," I say, fear crawling through me. "We have gym every other day."

"No shit, Benoit Blanc! So again: what's going on?"

I lick my lips under my mask, rewinding my thoughts over the last few days. And… holy crap, she's right. I didn't even notice, but she's right. I haven't seen or heard from Jet at all outside of gym class. I can't believe I didn't notice… well, okay, yes I can. But still. This is… bad. Alma must be finding time to duck into her house every time Jet might be coming to the front. Except gym, for some reason? I mean, I guess it's a combination of her hating it and needing Jet's spell to not get outed as a weird monster.

…Oh holy crap that's right, Autumn is a weird monster and that's my fault. I shake my head, the realization clearing the fog of Jet's spell and revealing Alma—in tail form, of course—twitching in frustration behind Jet as she runs. I shudder a little at the realization that I've been mindfucked again, but hey! It's kind of a day-to-day thing for me now! May as well happen on both sides of the dimensional gap.

I need to focus on my friend's problem anyway. It's one that might actually be solvable. Of course, like with all problems, it's important to start with self-pity.

"I'm sorry," I blurt. "I should have been paying closer attention. I didn't think it would get that bad, that quickly. Or… I mean, I really wasn't thinking at all. I'm not… doing great."

"Sure, whatever. What did you think would not get this bad?" Jet presses.

"Alma's spell prevents you from fronting," I tell her bluntly. "It's kind of awkward to use but I guess she must be… figuring it out. It's hard to notice her using it, so… um. Yeah."

Jet gapes at me, her face that sort of complicated expression one gets when they are horrified beyond words but also not the least bit surprised. She returns her eyes to the track for a moment and just stares at nothing for a while before speaking.

"...You don't think you could have told me this on Tuesday?" she asks.

"I, um. Have not really been myself this week," I mutter awkwardly.

"I've literally not been myself this week!" she hisses back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. She's trying to kill me."

"...Yeah," I mumble, not sure how to process that. My girlfriend is trying to make a person stop existing. I'm literally getting tortured over how firmly I'm against that sort of thing. Why does it feel so different, though? Well, either way, I have to do something.

"I'll talk to her," I promise. "Sorry. I should have done that sooner, I just… I'm not doing well."

"Yeah, like I trust you to side with me against her," Jet growls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"

I frown. I guess I can't blame her for thinking that way, but I'm still offended.

"Text the chat as soon as you can, then," I suggest. "I know you don't have a ton of friends, but we are your friends now, if you want us to be. And Ida will probably be better at helping than I am anyway."

If she reads the group chat she'll also learn about my soul torture situation without me having to explain it, which is a plus because I do not want to talk or think about it at all. The pain is reminder enough.

"What the fuck is your deal, Hannah," Jet growls. "God, I want to hate you. I should hate you, for doing this to us and then making your stupid little group our only lifeline."

"Weren't you telling your therapist about the monster stuff?" I ask.

"Well I haven't gotten to see my therapist all week, have I?" Jet scowls. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. You're my only lifeline, but it's not like I had any other lifelines before. Why would you even want me around, though? I'm just in the way of you and your fucking girlfriend."

I take a while to think about that, the adrenaline and panic already fading back into pain and leaving my brain a dull sludge. But to my own surprise, I do find an answer I like, after a while.

"I'm kind of in the exact opposite situation you are," I say. "One person in two bodies, instead of two people in one body. I'm sure it's nothing like what you're going through, and I'm sure I don't understand what your situation is like at all. But I definitely understand what it's like to… well, be in a situation no one else understands."

She doesn't say anything, just staring at the track, so I continue.

"I don't… really get along with most people," I say. "I don't hate them or anything, but I just… don't have any particular desire to be around them. I think the way my head interacts with others is a little broken. Er… well, I guess I shouldn't say 'broken,' because it might just be autism. It might also be because I'm a weird spider creature. I don't know. I don't know how to know. But whatever thing that makes normal people associate faces and names, or really people with bodies at all, is kind of weird to me. Maybe that's why I find it so natural and obvious that you and Alma are completely different people. Maybe it's something less high-concept than that. But either way, you are Jet. You are no one but Jet, to me. And I don't really feel like you're in the way of anything any more than anyone else could be."

Again, more silence. I feel the need to fill it, so I continue.

"So if someone wants to get in the way of your right to life, there's no way in hell I'm going to help them. And if they insist on it anyway, I'm not going to date them either. That's just not something you do to a person."

Jet finally glances my way, staring at me with naked suspicion.

"...You'd break up with Alma for me?" she asks.

"Are you kidding?" I ask. "Yeah, I'd break up with someone for trying to keep a person prisoner inside their own head. That's pretty unambiguously messed up."

"But will you make her?" Jet asks, her voice low. "When push comes to shove?"

I frown.

"I mean… I don't think I can 'make her,' I don't have any real level of control over her," I say. Jet snorts at that for some reason, but I press on. "But Jet, I'm not going to have to 'make her.' If I thought she was the sort of awful person that couldn't be talked out of hurting someone, I wouldn't be dating her in the first place."

"...And yet here we are," Jet sighs. "But fine. Okay. I appreciate the offer of help. I hope it leads to something."

"Yeah," I agree, suppressing a pained grimace. "Me too."

We get back to running, and I start to wonder how bad it is that having something awful enough to distract me from my pain has been the highlight of my week so far.

I trudge through the rest of gym class, quickly falling back into that half-conscious haze that has defined my earthside days all week. Somebody smacks me in the head with a volleyball at one point, but I don't really notice it beyond needing to go pick up the ball. I think whoever hit me apologized. It doesn't really matter, but that's nice, at least.

Classes happen when they happen, and lunch is eventually a thing. I sit down in the library as usual, my stomach growling as I open up textbooks to try and get homework done that I know I won't really be able to process.

"Hey, Hannah!" Alma greets me from behind, approaching my table to sit down next to me. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie easily, not really thinking about it.

"If you say so," she says, giving me a doubtful look. "You seem pretty out of it, which… well, makes perfect sense. Things have kind of been sucking. Would a date this Saturday help take your mind off it, you think?"

"Sure," I agree. Then I blink, trying to get my thoughts back together past the pain. "...Oh, I need to talk to you about Jet, though."

"Oh?" she asks. "Uh, what about them?"

"Are you using your spell to prevent them from fronting?" I ask. "Like, at all? Jet said in gym that she hasn't been conscious since last gym class, on Tuesday. She was really freaking out about it."

"Oh," Alma answers, fidgeting slightly. "Um, I guess I've been giving myself some extra time when I'm in the middle of something, yeah."

"...You wouldn't happen to be implying that you're always in the middle of something because that's just sort of how life works, are you?"

She fidgets again. Buh. I'm too tired for this.

"Alma, come on," I sigh.

"...You don't know what it's like," she mutters. "Not being able to make any plans because I don't even know if I'll exist."

"No, I don't," I agree patiently. "But I don't feel like foisting all of your suffering onto Jet is a good solution. Does Jet not deserve to live their life, too?"

"No!" Alma snaps. "They don't! Jet is a medical condition that nearly got me locked up in prison! Why shouldn't I take the cure?"

I stare at her in shock, startled by her outburst. She stares back for a moment, frustration obvious in her features, until she suddenly breaks eye contact with something like shame on her face.

"Alma…" I ask slowly, "is that really what you think of her?"

"You don't know what it's like," she repeats, shaking slightly.

"I know I don't," I say. "I'm sorry. But Alma… do you know what it's like to talk to Jet? Have you ever actually gotten to meet her?"

She grimaces.

"Of course I… I mean, I get flashes," she hedges, but I can tell she barely believes it.

"Have you watched a recording of her doing stuff, at least?" I ask.

"Jet used to send… video messages," Alma admits. "Before we started using the notebook. But I just… I couldn't watch them. It was… it freaks me out, okay? Seeing someone else puppet my body around like that. I just couldn't watch them."

She's extremely anxious now, fidgeting and glancing around constantly. She even looks vaguely… betrayed? Which hurts to see.

"Can we just not talk about this?" Alma begs. "Please? Can't this just be a good thing? Can't I feel like a fucking person for once?"

"Alma," I say, as calmly as I can muster. "You're my girlfriend. I care about you, I think you're adorable, I love your obsession with books and your rambles on jellyfish and everything else about you. But I also talk with Jet pretty regularly. You and her… you're obviously both people, to me. The fact that I care about you more doesn't mean I'm going to do nothing while you hurt her."

She sags in defeat, collapsing into a chair with her face in her hands. A little groan escapes her mouth, a sad mix of frustration and despair.

"Fine, okay," she agrees quietly. "I'll just go back to letting the crazy criminal run half my life."

"Jet has never given me the impression that she's mentally unstable or unsound," I say, trying to be reassuring. "If anything, she seems to care about you deeply. I swear, half our conversations are her giving me another shovel talk."

"Hhngh," is all Alma says in response, so I try to press on.

"How did that all happen, anyway?" I ask. "The, uh, criminal thing. I've heard Jet mention that she was burglarizing houses, but what was that like from your perspective? Do you know why she did it?"

Alma is quiet for a bit, but then she lets out a long sigh sitting back up in her chair and propping her head up on one elbow.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"...My dad is in a lot of debt," she admits slowly. "I don't really know how much, exactly. But my family can struggle to get by sometimes. I first started noticing the memory blackouts… I dunno. Years ago. But then the bills started getting paid. It was just kinda weird and concerning at first, but not… a huge thing? It was scary, but I didn't want to tell anyone that I was having memory blackouts, we couldn't afford a hospital trip. And… well, not remembering doing the bills isn't so bad, right? My dad acted like I had found an after school job, so I guess that's what Jet told him. He was really happy with me about it. And… I liked that, so… it wasn't really a problem. I knew something was fucked up when I woke up one time before the bills got paid and just saw a stack of cash with a sticky note on it that said 'for rent' in my handwriting. But… y'know. Don't question a good thing, right?"

She rubs her temples, and shrugs.

"...And then one day I just find myself in a police interrogation room. And everything has just gone downhill since then. So yes, I know Jet cares, but it doesn't change the fact that they've fucked up my entire life, you know? We only ever started actively communicating after being forced into therapy, and that's been… not great."

"Because by the time you knew there was someone else to talk to, they were already the person that got you arrested?" I ask.

"I guess," Alma sighs. "It's not like anything else really mattered. Like, it's not as though I had any friends or anything to do with my time before having Jet steal half of it away from me. The only thing that's different now is that I have you."

She looks so small now, curled up like a puppy that knew it shouldn't have ripped the couch open.

"I just… wanted to be there for you," she whispers.

Well, I don't think there's anything I can say to that, so instead I reach over and envelop her in a big, firm hug. Slowly, quietly, Alma starts to cry into my shoulder, her body shaking softly as tears soak into my shirt and are quietly Refreshed away.

"I just… I just don't want to be like this," she sobs. "Our therapist says other people with DID figure out how to manage it and live happy lives. Other people figure out their schedules and learn to cooperate and help each other but I just don't want to. I don't want to be like this. I just want my brain to be normal."

Her tail shifts underneath her skirt, awkward and uncomfortable. Her wings twitch on her back. Her ears, underneath her hat, give a despondent wiggle.

"I just don't know what to do," Alma says. "I love you, Hannah. I love you and I want to be with you and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do with my body, I don't know what to do with my magic, I don't know how to exist or how to live. I just don't have anything other than you."

"Alma… hey." I reassure her. "That's not true."

"It is true!" she insists. "Even if it isn't, I want it to be true."

"Wh-why would you want it to—"

"Fuck!" she hisses. "I shouldn't have said anything. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm sorry!"

"Alma, it's okay," I insist. "I promise it's okay. I'm not exactly the poster child for mental health either, okay? I'm not gonna judge you for your feelings. I'm not. It's what you do that matters."

"What I'm doing is trying to kill someone I don't even know," Alma sobs. "I hate them, Hannah. I hate them so much. I hate the idea of anyone else getting to use my body. It's mine."

"I know," I say soothingly. "I know. I'm sorry."

Holy cream cannoli we are so dysfunctional. Goddess, but I wish I knew what to say, how to act, who to be. This is so hard and I feel like it's all going wrong but I don't know how to make it right. I just don't know what I'm doing. I've never been in a relationship before, let alone one like… this.

"No no no, it's okay, you don't have to be sorry," Alma insists. "You don't. It's okay. You haven't done anything wrong. I just… maybe I just like to tell myself that if I get rid of Jet then my stupid awful brain will be okay again. But it won't, will it? I'm the problem. It's me."

"...Well, that sounds like a good reason to listen to your therapist a little, right?" I press.

"Yeah. I guess. Okay," Alma shudders. "Do you… do you still wanna go out Saturday? It's okay if you don't, I…"

"Alma," I say firmly. "I'm not going to dump you because you talked about your feelings. It's okay. You said you weren't going to take time from Jet anymore, right?"

"...Yeah," she agrees.

"Then that's it. That's the only concern I had. Everything else is stuff we'll work out together, alright? I'm here for you."

"Okay. Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. But you're forgiven anyway, if you want to be."

"Thank you. Sorry."

We just stay together for a while, the worry about the whole event mixing into my foggy brain and bubbling within the pain. It feels like the red flags keep piling up, but what does that mean? I don't think Alma is bad or unpleasant or annoying. I absolutely enjoy spending time with her. She has problems to work through, sure, but doesn't everyone? I certainly do, and she's putting up with enough of my bull poop to be worth helping, that's for sure. So what's the problem? What am I worried about?

…Alma said she loves me, right? Do I love her? Is that a question I should even know the answer to this early into our relationship?

Whether I'm supposed to or not, I certainly fail to find the answer before lunch ends. Or, for that matter, before the day ends. A small panic attack before bed is all I have to suffer tonight before exhaustion inevitably claims me, forcing me to once more wake up in my horrible, horrible torture cage… and let something not unlike relief pass through me as my mind blanks out, rendered totally, blissfully empty by Madaline's spell.

Whatever feeling I might have had at the sensation is gone in an instant, of course. Nothing remains of Hannah beyond the dim perception of the passage of time. On and on, things happen, but they simply aren't important, aren't noteworthy, aren't… a problem. But eventually, Hagoro comes and shakes Madaline awake, and my problems exist once again.

I exist. It's awful. I hate it.

With a shudder, I return to sentience, the dread of incoming agony causing my breaths to shake. I'm pathetic for feeling this way, aren't I? For so desperately wanting this… this low-commitment suicide. But what else am I supposed to do here? I feel like a real hero would be out of this cage by now, her captors dead on the floor for daring to subject her to such inhumane practice. But I'm too good to twist my spell for the purpose, and not good enough to have any other way out. I'm nothing but a failure, and now I have to suffer for it. Maybe I deserve to.

As has become common on this side of the dimensions, my body instinctively tries to cry despite lacking the biology to do so. I'm just so scared, so desperate, that there's nothing else I can do. When Hagoro starts to escort Madaline from the room, I call out without thinking.

"Wait," I beg. I'm scared to see her leave. Scared of what happens whenever she's gone. I need her here.

Hagoro tries to ignore me, but Madaline stops him, putting a hand on his arm to signal it rather than try to say anything in her still-bleary state. She looks at me, a sad understanding on her face, and takes a deep breath to help clear her head. Then another.

"...What is it?" she finally asks.

"Is there anything I can give you," I ask, "to just get one day?"

'Without the pain' goes unsaid. Madaline looks at Hagoro. He shrugs, like he has no influence on that kind of decision. She frowns, tapping his arm twice. He takes his arms away and stops supporting her weight, and she wobbles a bit but manages to stand on her own. I watch all of this with a dull thoughtlessness that's almost, but not quite, like being under her spell. As if my brain's response to terror is slowly starting to copy her magic out of some desperate longing.

My torturer, after all, is approaching. I'm out of time.

"Please," I beg desperately. "I'll tell you anything. About my world, about myself, about what I know. I just… I can't take this anymore."

But then he's in sight of them, and their attention is on him. Too slow, Hannah. Time to face the fire.

"Hagoro, Madaline," my torturer greets them, giving a polite nod of his head.

"Good afternoon, Malda," Hagoro answers. It's the afternoon?

"Malda, would you be willing to take a day off?" Madaline asks.

Wait, what? Hope tries to bloom inside me for a moment before I crush it down in fear. He's just going to say no. But why is she even asking…?

"A day off?" Malda asks, predictably incredulous. "We're on a time limit, Madaline. You know that."

"But it's a longer one than we're used to, right?" she presses, her lucidity improving rapidly. I've never seen her this… focused before.

"...It is, yes," Malda concedes. "Despite everything, she's never attempted to accelerate things. She might not even know how."

"Or she doesn't want to," Madaline says softly. "I think I might be able… to help. Could I have a day with her?"

"I'm not sure what you expect to accomplish that Donny couldn't," Malda frowns, crossing his arms.

"Donny… gives up too easily," Madaline says slowly. "He prefers… to wait for a sure shot. He's too used to them."

"And you think it's worthwhile to gamble on a less-than-sure shot?" Malda asks.

"Is that not… what we've always done? From the start?" Madaline asks. "I think… it will help."

My torturer drums his fingers against his bicep, taking a moment to think.

"...It's rare to see you taking initiative like this, Madaline," he ultimately says. "I'm loath to give up even a single day to anything, you understand. This is, frankly, our entire reason for existing. Everything else is secondary."

"Secondary," Madaline argues, "does not mean worthless. I… want to give back worth."

My torturer frowns deeper.

"...I would have some firm words for anyone trying to imply you didn't already have worth in abundance," he says. "But… fine. You may take a day with her. I will see what I can arrange with the data we've already gathered."

"Thank you… Malda," Madaline says, bowing her head slightly. He just waves her off and turns around, walking back in the direction he came.

And then her attention turns to me.

"Thank you," I say, because I lack the sort of pride necessary to not be grateful to the nicest member of the cult that systematically tortures me.

"You're… welcome," Madaline nods, slowly walking towards me. Hagoro looks concerned, but continues not saying anything, just waiting around and keeping his spell active. "Don't forget… to eat… okay? I forget a lot. So my friends… always have to remind me."

Oh. I guess I am kind of hungry. And as usual, food arrived during Madaline's spell, and is waiting for me in my cell. For the first time in what feels like days (has it been days?) I step forward and lean down to eat the meat they provided me. It's an odd experience, since my body has grown into a different shape with distinct forelimbs and hindlimbs, not to mention my mouth moving up my body to stretch along what is probably the beginning of a torso towards what is probably the beginning of a head. It's all still a singular mass of 'body,' but specialization is starting to happen. It's awkward and somewhat uncomfortable, especially after I've gotten so used to being radially symmetrical, but it hardly makes it impossible to eat.

Madaline is being quiet, content to watch me eat out of either respect or her usual lack of focus. I can't really stand the silence, though, so I try to get the conversation started.

"Why did you help me?" I ask between bites.

"Hmm…" she hums in consideration, as if she hadn't even thought about why before doing it. "I guess… because… you're like me? The last Founder's Kin… wasn't like us at all. He was very mean. Very… angry. All the way until the end. You… are kind. And sad. It makes things… harder."

I gulp down another bite, surprised at how utterly starving I suddenly feel.

"So that's it?" I ask. "You just feel sorry for me?"

Can't really blame her for that; I feel sorry for me too.

"No," she clarifies, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of my cage. "You also offered… information. And I'm interested. You… can hear Her speak too, can't you? Most people… can't."

The Goddess, Her presence weighty in the room thanks to Zone of Law, lounges happily on my back as I eat. But now that I'm looking for it, I feel Her on Madaline as well, cuddling her close not unlike how She so often holds me.

"...Yeah," I agree. "I guess we're both cursed with Her favor."

"Is it a curse?" Madaline asks, quirking her head to the side. "I consider the Goddess… my first real friend."

"The Goddess is evil," I say quietly, hesitantly. Fearfully. But She doesn't seem offended by this judgment, and neither does Madaline.

"Yes," Madaline agrees instead, a smile on her face. "I have many evil friends. Would you like to be my friend, Hannah?"

I instinctively bristle at the obvious implication, the Goddess chuckling softly as she watches our exchange. Evil? Really? If I was evil I wouldn't be having any trouble breaking myself out of this horrific torture cage! …But of course, I can't tell her that.

"Will you stop helping these people rip my soul apart?" I ask instead. "I unfortunately find that little detail to be a pretty significant obstacle to friendship. Besides, I barely know anything about you."

"There is… very little to say," Madaline answers. "My magic… doesn't lend itself to killing. And it is… difficult to trace. So I had less of a problem with Chaos hunters… than most people like me. But without the Goddess' help… I probably would have starved. Still, I survived, and now I have Hagoro and many other friends. And I am happy."

"Happy locking people in cages, huh?" I grumble. She laughs a little, the sort of tiny, soft laugh where she covers her mouth with one hand. A 'titter,' I think it's called.

"My friends want to save the world," she says. "Many of them… think they are good people. I do not care… if I am a good person. I do not care about… the world. But I do care about my friends. That is all. A moral objection… won't get you very far with me."

"...You have a surprisingly well-thought-out sense of who you are," I comment.

"Do you not as well?" she asks. "You know your weaknesses. You know your faults. Those of us… who like to run from our thoughts… often tend to have a lot of thoughts to run from."

How else am I supposed to deal with my thoughts, if not by running? I assume healthy people have resolution strategies, but I'm certainly not a healthy person.

"You seem like you know me pretty well," I say.

"I do," she agrees simply. I suppress a shudder. Pneuma mages. "Now tell me: who is the Goddess, to you?"

I sit quietly for a moment, trying to figure out how best to answer that. The Goddess Herself listens lazily to my thoughts, lounging on top of me with a yawn. I'm allowed to say whatever. I can curse Her, insult Her, scream at Her, warn people from Her… that's all fine. I just have to be careful not to slander. And, well… I can work with that.

"...So, you know I'm from another world," I start with, and Madaline nods cooperatively. "Well, on my world there's a famous story called The Monkey's Paw. Uh, what a monkey is isn't important, the point of the story is just that there's… a wish-granting device. A thing that will literally turn whatever possible dream you could ask for into reality. But every time it is used, no matter what, the wish is twisted. A price is extracted that far exceeds the benefits one might get from the wish. Every time I interact with the Goddess, it reminds me of that."

"I see," Madaline muses. "And what prices has the Goddess extracted?"

"That's the thing," I answer. "I don't know. I have no idea what She wants from me beyond entertainment. I just know that She does want entertainment, and everything She does to help me is… loaded, somehow. She's setting me up for something."

"Hmm," Madaline hums again. "And it is not conceivable… that She is setting you up to destroy the world?"

"Well, I mean, I think She probably is," I admit. "But the apocalypse I know I can cause only affects my world. It doesn't affect any of you here."

That seems to surprise her, and Hagoro as well. They both share a look of bewilderment.

"Is she…?" Hagoro asks.

"Yes," Madaline confirms. "She's being honest."

He doesn't seem to know what to say to that, so Madaline returns her attention to me.

"...I am not sure if that changes anything," Madaline admits. "But I… will speak with the others. Perhaps you simply threaten this world in a manner… you do not know."

"I'm going to be kept here on a 'perhaps!?'" I snap. "You guys are insane!"

"Unfortunate, then, that your opinion has so little impact… on the ultimate decision," Madaline says with a frown, and I legitimately can't tell if she's being sarcastic or if she's actually frustrated along with me. "Perhaps they will bring the founder… to meet you. He would be able to tell… what threat you may pose."

"Wait, your cult's founder is alive?" I ask. "How long have you guys been around?"

"The Disciples of Unification were founded just over two centuries ago," Hagoro supplies.

"Do people normally live for over two hundred years here?" I ask, realizing I don't actually know if that's as weird as it sounds in magic fantasy land.

"No," Madaline answers. "We do not. The founder is special. As… are you. If you destroy the world… you'll become immortal as well."

"Madaline!" Hagoro interjects sharply.

"It's… okay," Madaline assures him, her eyes locked on mine with a smile. "She's not tempted… by something like that. Are you, Hannah?"

She's right. I'm not. If anything, I'm horrified. I don't want to die, sure, but killing millions, maybe billions of people for immunity to it? That's beyond monstrous. I can't even imagine pulling the trigger on something like that.

"No," I confirm. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"That is so interesting to me," Madaline muses. "What do you think you are, exactly?"

"I…" I gulp, shifting my weight nervously. "I'm a pawn. A piece in a game. A toy for the Goddess to play with."

The Goddess purrs. It's good of me to accept that so readily.

"So you think She chose you?" Madaline asks. "I've always… wondered about that. I think you are probably correct. The Goddess… is playing a game. But I think… she can lose."

"She can," I agree. "She has to be able to lose. Otherwise, it isn't fun to win."

Madaline titters again.

"You play a lot of games, don't you, Hannah?" she asks rhetorically. "Your predecessors were not like you. None of them were the kind of person to hesitate… at ending the world for their own sake. And if you are right… if the Goddess picks her pieces… why would she pick you? It seems to me… that if you're trying to get someone to destroy the world… it would be rather important to choose someone who wanted to do that."

The Goddess' attention is weighing on the conversation now, silent but heavy. I think about ants and sand castles, about how I might change the terrain around a bug to nudge it into whatever direction I want it to go.

"...You think there's something I can't see," I conclude. "Something that she's just going to make me stumble into on accident."

"I think I wasn't sure until today that the Goddess was our enemy," Madaline answers. "But… yes. If so, that is how She would play. She is not very fun… to play games with."

"Then you should help me find the path!" I insist. "Stop hurting me and making me your enemy! We can find a way to beat Her together!"

"That seems like a good idea, doesn't it?" Madaline says sadly. "I want to. I like you, Hannah. But every single apocalypse the Disciples of Unification have stopped, we stopped with torture and death. And now, the Goddess has chosen someone kind. Someone I do not want to hurt. The Goddess… is not very fun to play games with."

"No," I growl, realizing where she's going with this. "You're kidding me."

"Your kindness exists," Madaline tells me, "to foster mercy. That is what I think. The Goddess chose you because you are pitiable, Hannah. And if we pity you too much, if we do release you… the world ends."

"You can't be serious," I hiss. "Why are all you cultists so fucking insane?"

She shrugs.

"It's just… my theory," she answers. "It will not free you or trap you in this cage. I just want to hear your thoughts on it, is all. Is it something… the Goddess you know would do?"

Is it something the Goddess I know would do? I'm not sure. Maybe. Probably. She'd love that sort of thing, I think. Twisting mercy and pity and love and justice into the reason everything goes to hell. Watching her little puppets doom themselves with the best intentions, howling at the dramatic irony as they blindly stumble ever closer to their death.

She'd craft the walls of the sand castle so that every pathway leads to the ocean, and she'd laugh all the while. And while an ant can dig through the sand or crawl over the walls… why not take the path of least resistance, if you don't know where any of them lead anyway?

"It's scary, isn't it?" Madaline asks. "Sorry. I'm glad you're thinking about it, though."

"Why does it even matter what I think?" I ask. "If you're just going to keep me here and torture me to death anyway?"

"There are still things you can do that we don't know about," Madaline shrugs. "Maybe you'll escape. You won't be the first, even if we always manage to find your kind again. But I want you to see Her, to look for Her walls. The Goddess is my friend, you see. I don't mind playing Her game from the opposite side. But if She's going to laugh at us along the way… I wouldn't mind humiliating Her a little. If you do escape… it would be extra funny if She gets beat by Her own piece, don't you think?"

The Goddess' presence rumbles with anticipation. You're on, She seems to say.

"Become a player, rather than just a piece. Just make sure to entertain Her, Hannah," Madaline warns me. "If She's not having fun, She can always just flip the board."

The Goddess laughs and laughs and laughs. Madaline is such a good friend, isn't she?