They awoke standing, facing each other at the base of the stone staircase once again. Three climbs, three disturbingly silent falls later, and they were no closer to determining what the Warden wanted from them.
“This doesn’t seem to be working, does it?” Enmei said. Katsumi sighed in agreement. They had tried walking up the stairs normally again, then synchronizing their steps, then running full throttle (which ended early with Enmei slipping and plummeting off the side, carrying Katsumi off with him). Each time they had found each other mid air and hung on as they fell, sometimes for what seemed like hours.
Falling had gone from horrifying to an unpleasant punishment they had to deal with each time they failed.
“Time to move on from the trial and error phase?” he asked.
“I already have,” Katsumi said, fingers to her lips again, “I was merely getting accustomed to the circumstances of failure.”
“You mean you liked falling endlessly in eerie silence?”
“Shut up. That’s not what I meant. We did figure out that we can hear each other until the walls drop off to either side.”
“Well,” Enmei said, looking around, “I suppose we could think outside the box. The wall seems full of handholds.”
“And infinitely tall.”
“Or we could try throwing ourselves off the other way. Into the starry abyss rather than the dark one?”
“You’re not helping.”
“It was an honest thought.”
“The Warden told us to go up the stairs. If we’re not meant to go up the stairs, then our Warden is a real piece of shit.”
“I mean, he does seem like that.”
“He can hear us.”
Enmei winced. He was still getting used to the omnipresence thing that seemed to be a common thread with godly beings like Aspentas and the Warden.
“Sorry, Apollyon.” Enmei said to the air. No response. He stood there awkwardly.
Katsumi exhaled in exasperation and began pacing around their small, rock littered clearing before the stairs.
“Let’s break down everything we know. First, Aspentas said the Warden would have access to the entirety of our minds, meaning the Warden knows we’re not Candidates from Heaven, he knows everything about our pasts in the 22nd century, and if he wants, could kill us on the spot.”
“If the Warden wanted to kill us, he’d have done it by now,” Enmei said, “meaning he’s either torturing us, or honestly testing us as Candidates.”
“If we are able to speak with him and prove our loyalty to the Archwarden, then Apollyon will be forced to let us into the Overseen,” Katsumi continued.
“Is it possible he’s just ensuring we can’t talk with him?”
“That may be part of it. He knows what we know, so to test us as Candidates he must do so before we get to him.”
“But how do we get to him?”
“If the test is in reaching the Warden rather than talking with the Warden himself, then there would be no point in telling the Warden what Aspentas told us to.”
“Because we would have already proved ourselves through the tests. I think I’m following. But doesn’t that just make what Aspentas gave us to say useless?”
“No. Because it wasn’t the words themselves that proved our loyalty, but the concepts.”
Enmei narrowed his eyes in concentration. She was definitely onto something there. Aspentas had given them three Holy Truths from the Axioma scriptures that would prove their loyalty, but what did saying the words really prove? What if the Warden’s way of testing them was to make sure the root of the Axioma’s Truths were instilled within them?
Enmei laughed. If that was the case, then he and Katsumi were literally being indoctrinated into a belief system. Not through words, but through experience.
“The mind shatters like glass,” Enmei said.
Katsumi nodded earnestly, then recited the full quote Aspentas had given them; “‘The First Truth is the foundation of Divinitas, and thus it encompasses all others: The mind shatters like glass.’”
The very first line of the Axioma. Those words had been a punch to the gut when Aspentas first spoke them, almost sending Enmei into another spiral of memory then and there. He still didn’t know what the phrase meant, but at least he knew it wasn’t just a figment of his false memory. It was a central tenet of this world as well.
“Glass. Everything’s been about Glass so far, hasn’t it?” he said. Even my memories.
“The Amorphic Magicks, the portal-making device, that sword Kelshra,” Katsumi said, “All this and the idea of Glass itself still hasn’t been explained. But I think I’m beginning to understand.”
“Really?”
“I can form theories, at least.”
A stab of pain in Enmei’s head reminded him of Katsumi on the moon, where she had said something all too similar.
“Tell me then.”
“It seems clear to me that these ‘Amorphic Magicks,’ whatever they are, revolve around a person’s mind. Aspentas said we were inside of his mind, and that’s how he was able to conjure all of those illusions. But they weren’t only illusions, were they? The clothing we’re wearing now is real, and he put that on us in the blink of an eye. He summoned the sword out of nothingness, and the sword really did exist. Think, we existed inside his mind – as physical beings. How is that possible? And besides, I felt something when Aspentas gave me that sword. When I gave the sword the command to hide, it was like a space in my mind opened and enveloped it. The sword didn’t just disappear into thin air. I think it’s inside of me somehow. I feel its presence like a fragment of my own mind.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Shards of consciousness,” Enmei blurted.
“What?”
“Oh, um . . . it was something from my ‘false memories,’ as Aspentas called them.”
Katsumi’s eyes widened. “He told me about them while he was giving your memories back. So that was why it looked like you were having a seizure?”
“I guess. They come up at random, and for some reason it hurts having them relived. It’s really strange, like an entirely different person is in my head. But some part of that person is still me, and . . . I don’t know. ‘Shards of consciousness’ . . . you had said that in the memory.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. It’s complex, I don’t know if now is the right time to explain.”
“It’s alright. Funny thing is, that ‘shards of consciousness’ idea might be it. ‘The mind shatters like glass,’ and ‘shards of consciousness.’ They make sense together, no?”
“On the surface, I suppose, but I still don’t get what it means.”
“These.” Katsumi held out both of her palms for inspection. So she had outlets as well.
“Aspentas didn’t only talk about your memories with me. He also talked about our new bodies. Told me the Apocrypha spent a good deal of money making you almost superhuman.”
“I sure haven’t felt that way, yet.”
“More importantly, though, he talked about the things in our palms. Called them Amorphium outlets.”
“The Flesh Artisan called them that too. The outlets are what Aspentas used to transmit my memories. They’re connected to the Amorphic Magicks somehow.”
Katsumi smiled eagerly. “They are. But they’re connected to something physically as well. Feel the back of your neck.”
Enmei did as she said, and was surprised by the cool sensation of metal on his fingertips. A device was embedded there, one he hadn’t noticed before.
“The outlets feed into cords which run through our arms, which are in turn fed into our spines, moving up into our brain stems. That’s how Aspentas described it. These devices on our necks are what really power the magic, but those devices are connected to our brains. Our minds, almost as if they’re part of us. Aspentas called the device an Amorphium cortex. If magic is Glass, and the mind shatters like it, I think the First Truth is describing how magic works.”
That certainly made sense. Enmei thought back to the false memory that had crept up on him when Matchlight’s team had first punched their way into another dimension. There had been a war in that memory, and with a mental command he had sent a blast out from his Amorphium outlet, shattering an enemy soldier.
Then there was the feeling Enmei had when he touched palms with Aspentas. It really had felt like his mind was cracking, almost.
The epiphany wasn’t exactly a nice one. It was disturbing realizing how much technology was woven into them.
“I agree, but how does that help us with beating the Warden’s test?” Enmei said.
“If the First Truth is describing magic, and the Warden wants us to exemplify the words of the Axioma, then we have to show him we know how to use magic.”
“Good enough logic. Only problem being Aspentas didn’t explain that bit, so we don’t know how to use magic.”
“Well, sure. But how hard can that be? If Amorphic magic is a game of thought, then there’s no one better than you and me to learn it. Here, hold my hands.”
Enmei did as he was told. Palm to palm, the glass of their outlets clinked together.
“Alright. What’s next?”
“Just wait.”
Enmei blacked out.
*****
“Looks like I went a bit too hard,” Katsumi said as she finished jostling him awake. He sat up with a worse headache than the false memories from before had left him.
“Wh-what did you do?” Enmei stuttered. His arms stung like he had touched an electric fence. They trembled as he held them up for inspection.
“I don’t really know. I just thought about pushing my mind outward and that happened. What did it feel like for you?”
“I don’t really know, because I blacked out.”
“Oh, come on. There must be something.”
Enmei thought hard. Had he felt anything different before . . . ?
“Wait. You were thinking something. Just for a second before passing out, I thought – your thought.”
Katsumi’s face lit up. “And what was it?”
“‘Love’ – wait, seriously?”
She laughed and hugged him. “Yep. You read my mind! Let’s do it again.”
Reluctantly, Enmei placed his palms in hers for another go. “Don’t make me black out this time.”
“My love was just too powerful for you.”
“Please . . . wait, what the–”
Love. Not just the word, but the emotion as well. Her emotion. It rushed into him, thrumming up through Enmei’s arms, straight into his brain, melding with his consciousness itself.
It was indescribable. Enmei felt like crying. A piece of Katsumi’s mind had become enveloped within his. He experienced her love for him within himself, as if it was him experiencing it.
Every time I underestimate her. Even after she screamed it at me, after she promised never to leave me behind . . .
To think she really felt for me so . . . powerfully.
“Katsumi . . . I . . .”
“It’s working?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s working.”
In the air between their palms, the air was cracking audibly, little hairline fractures of light spreading out from the enclosed spaces between their hands. Glass was manifesting as a product of the cognitive flow. But the emotion . . .
“That’s what you wanted, right Apollyon?” she said to the air.
“Yes. Climb the stairs again, Candidates. Within the bounds of my cathedral, I give you permission to fly. I await you at the top.”
The voice startled Enmei, and he cut their connection accidentally, Katsumi’s emotions were yanked out of him almost painfully.
Damn. It felt . . . empty without them.
“You heard it, Enmei,” she said, grinning at her success. “We’re onto the next stage.”
“I guess we are. But what did Apollyon mean by giving us permission to fly?”
“I think I already know. This mind stuff is quite nebulous, but it's really not so different from experimental mathematics, or even basic logic problems. Sometimes you just have to let your intuition do the work.”
She stood up, brushing off her pants. “If Aspentas could summon illusions in his own head, think of all of the other things we should be able to do. Why not fly?”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.” She hadn’t stopped grinning. In fact, she looked to actually be having fun now. “To put it clearly, we’re going to try falling upwards.”
“Using our outlets? That seems completely different than sharing emotions.”
“Is it? Look, Enmei. I don’t understand the fundamental concepts behind it, but if Aspentas is to be trusted, we’re dealing with actual divinity here. If a god said we could fly, then shouldn’t we give it a try?”
“So what, we just think about flying and it happens?”
“Magic comes from the mind, and the mind shatters like glass. You got a better idea?”
Enmei stood and followed the excited Katsumi up the stairs and into the cathedral yet again.