Mouth agape at her own revelation, Sayko stared dumbstruck at Celica after confessing the awful truth. It was completely out of character for her to speak up, especially with stakes that high. She hadn’t always been reserved, but sometimes a fiery teenager’s passion gets extinguished the further they travel into adulthood. Her spirit had gone from a bonfire to a flickering ember.
Celica stared blankly for a moment, unsure of what to say at the outburst. Expecting anger or confusion, Sayko was shocked when she leaned in closer and softly spoke.
“Senna… what was happening when you were asleep?”
“I…” Trepidation slowly caressed her neck, threatening to strangle the courage from her throat.
Fearing being thrown into the street upon revealing the truth, Sayko had privately debated about waiting to drop this bombshell on Celica until she could at least walk. Yet, between guilt and realizing she was completely unable to keep playing the part of a girl that was supposed to be mentally eight years old, she had caved. She wasn’t just a terrible actor, she could feel a millstone of guilt tied around her.
“I dreamt… no,” she shook her head, balling her fists in determination. “I was a woman named Sayko Ashcaster on a planet called Earth. I say ‘was’ because I died there last night in an accident. When I woke up, I was in Senna’s body. I feel like something happened in-between, but…”
She trailed off, realizing that a growing fog loomed in her memory of what happened between
her death and being catapulted into this body. The conversation with the mysterious entity was swiftly vanishing, only a faint recollection of a starry, endless sky remaining.
“I don’t really remember what it was. You clearly loved Senna more than life itself, and I don’t
have the heart to continue this charade. It’s already bad enough I stole her body, I’m not going to steal her life and family, too.”
Tears filled her eyes, her vision growing blurry. Her stomach churned as more word vomit began to work its way forcefully out of her body.
“…”
Although Celica’s silence was somewhat unnerving, Sayko couldn’t stop herself from continuing.
“And I don’t know what part of this is the cruelest! The fact that fate almost let me have the life I always wanted or that I’m now puppeting a family’s daughter and getting their hopes up that she’s alive! This entire thing is a sick fucking joke!”
Celica said nothing, her eyes clouded as she digested every word that Sayko had blurted out. Sayko sniffled, her vision blurring as she tried to decipher what emotions could possibly be passing through her ‘mother’s’ head. It was then that something even more surprising happened.
Pulling her chair even closer to the bed, Celica retrieved a white handkerchief from her pocket. She quickly wiped the stream of tears away, followed by a quick dab of Sayko’s nose. Setting the cloth down on a nightstand, she took a deep breath and began to speak.
“I believe you, Sayko. I don’t doubt for a moment that what you say is true. However,…”
Staring in disbelief, expecting the very worst, Sayko held her breath for what could possibly come next.
“In my heart of hearts, I believe you are Senna, even if you don’t believe it yet.”
“But there’s no way-"
Gently putting a hand over Sayko’s mouth, she made a ‘hush’ signal with the other hand. “Please, let me finish.” Although there was no anger in her tone, Sayko knew better than to interrupt.
“The reason I know you aren’t lying is, first and foremost, you’re clearly not an eight-year-old that’s been asleep for six years, let alone fourteen. You have the knowledge and mannerisms of an adult. Which begs the obvious question; how could you possibly have gathered that knowledge while asleep?”
Unfazed by Celica already having put the pieces together, Sayko quietly waited for her to continue, the hand now removed from her mouth.
“What’s more, there’s so little we know about the sleeping sickness. We know that it was a powerful curse that separated soul from body, but we had no idea where the soul went while separated. It’d make a lot of sense as to why the sleepers take years to wake if the soul becomes tethered to a new body.”
“That being said… The reason I believe you are my Senna is a little more convoluted. Did they mention anything about Ject Mutatem to you after you woke up?”
Remembering the awkward elven cleric Artemis, Sayko nodded.
“A bit, but I was having a panic attack during the explanation, so the details are fuzzy.”
“Ah… basically, inside all living things is a spiritual anchor for our souls known as the ject. If the ject becomes corrupted, one of two things can happen. Your physical body will either mutate and twist into a mindless monster or you’ll become an empty husk of a person, your own humanity erased, left to wander to find any tangible meaning to being alive.”
“As to ‘why’ this happens… well…” she lifted a second cup of tea off the nightstand to take a sip, clearing her throat before continuing.
“There seem to be multiple ways this can happen. Forbidden dark arts exist that either extract the soul from the ject, or to harvest the ject itself. Likewise, there are creatures known as ‘echoes’ that are phantoms capable of possessing an empty ject, desperately seeking a host so they can interact with the physical plane.”
“Although it’s certainly not impossible for a stray soul to inhabit a ject without triggering Ject Mutatem, it’s just not likely. What’s more, all accounts of these possessions have one thing in common. Even if the possessed person is family, those who encounter the victim say they emit the aura of a stranger, no longer feeling familiar or familial.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Scooping up Mister Floppit, Celica stared at him absentmindedly, pondering her own words. Sayko said nothing, trying to digest the conversation, paranoid of what would come next.
“Here’s where it gets ‘convoluted’. You obviously don’t really fit into any of those abnormal cases. Even if your mannerisms are different, even though you’re clearly carrying weight from the life you were living while asleep, you still feel like family; I still see Senna beneath the surface. And, EVEN if you truly aren’t… My own selfishness is willing to disregard that, because whether your mind is or isn't a child, you have been born into a brand new world and would fare no better than a child. My conscience won't allow that."
More tears burned in Sayko’s eyes, turning her face away to hide the self-imposed shame she felt. It hadn’t even been a full day, but the walls she had been building inside herself were crumbling, holes appearing as floodwaters tried to push through. Something inside her had changed the moment she woke up in the infirmary.
“You really think that I could be her?” Sayko replied, unable to bring herself to look Celica in the eyes.
“Yes, I really do.”
Although it assuaged some of her guilt to hear Celica’s affirmation, the ever-growing gravity of the situation finally sunk in. She now had to grapple with the facts as they had presented themselves.
-Sayko Ashcaster died.
-Even if her body was intact, there wasn’t a life on Earth worth going back for.
-There was a slim chance that her soul had truly belonged to this body all along, meaning her
former life was possibly a cosmic level mishap.
-Lastly, as Yuna had pointed out, this was a chance to start all over.
The final fact once more filled her chest with the same familiar determination that pushed her to confess the truth to Celica. Very few people were ever given the chance to start over.
I can’t believe I’m going to admit this to myself, but I want to be this woman’s daughter.
“Now that I’ve gotten everything off my chest... If you can look past the amnesia, or that I might not even be the original Senna, I… I’d gladly be your daughter.”
There. I said it. Please, whatever gods are listening, let this life be different. I know it’s selfish,
but let me have this one chance to start over.
“And my answer will always remain the same. Of course, I will be your mother. Six years without you was far too long.”
“Are we being selfish ignoring the circumstances surrounding this?”
Drawing closer, Celica wrapped her arms around Sayko, kissing her head before whispering in her ear.
“Darling girl… Life is fleeting, and we are all one wrong step away from being the playthigns of gods and devils alike, often for the worse. If we are to ever be happy, we shouldn’t be afraid of being selfish for seizing these glimmers of happiness when they present themselves.”
In turn, Sayko wrapped her arms around Celica, involuntary sobs wracking her body. Through death, she had found new life, a fairytale daydream that could erase the scars on her soul. Yuna’s words held water, and if she was going to start a new life, she wanted to do it right, refusing to live a lie.
Goodbye, Sayko. I’m sorry if I ever let you down. It doesn’t matter if I’m the lost soul of Senna or merely just taking her place, this is who I am now. I don’t have to carry our pain anymore.
“Mom… We can say goodbye to Sayko Ashcaster. My name is Senna Lorenz.”
--
“Enzen?” Orchid shot back, a slight note of incredulity in his voice, tilting his head to the side.
“Yes, the one and only! Second largest city in Hesperia and a royal seat. They’ve been a shining beacon of restoration and growth since the war ended.” Monsignor twirled a fountain pen between his fingers as he spoke, mildly amused by his own suggestion.
“Forgive my tone, I’m merely ignorant of why you would choose that particular city.”
“Several reasons, my child. We aren’t the only ones seeing power vacuums in the wake of this war. Countless people died. Many noble houses have been erased. Entire industries were left in shambles. Six years isn’t enough time to fully recover from a world-shattering war. Sometimes a nation may take generations to heal their wounds. Sometimes a wound is deep enough that it never heals.”
Setting the pen down, Monsignor continued.
“It’s long overdue for us to reemerge from the shadows to build connections, to infiltrate major cities to spread our influence, and to grow our numbers. We must be there to guide the hands that rebuild nations to help reshape things more befitting of Her… divinity.”
“Understandable. How would you have me move forward, Monsignor?”
Pulling out a leather-bound package sealed with twine from under the desk, Monsignor carefully set it on the table. It was rather nondescript in appearance, other than being dark burgundy and rather thick.
“There is a dossier of notable traders, nobles, movers, and shakers. Most have either fallen on hard times or are trying to recover in the wake of the war. I’ve left notes about suggestions of who to approach first, and who will be easiest to wrap around your finger. Plus… your natural ‘talents’ will aid greatly in this matter. Money is no mere object for our house; those unable to be swayed by your ability can often be bought.”
Standing from the chair, he turned to face the blackened window.
“Would you like my earnest advice, child?”
“Always and forever, Monsignor.” Orchid responded, his tone an impossible mix of monotone
and dulcet.
“First impressions truly do matter. Once you’ve secured a place to reside, throw an event to announce your ‘noble’ house, but be the most gracious host they’ve ever encountered. Dazzle them yet always remain seemingly humble. A faux humility amongst fools with more money than sense is the deadliest tool you can wield.”
“Next, make friends with the town guard. Win them over and stroke their egos and misplaced prejudices. The sooner the better, otherwise they’re less likely to look the other way when it matters most. Lastly, and this is the most important part.”
Returning to the desk, he revealed a stern expression.
“They are not lying when they say patience is a virtue. The best laid plans often take weeks, months, or even years.”
“Do I look like Violet or Daisy? I’m no damaged stem. I may like to dabble in debauchery every so often, but I know how to keep a lid on it when it counts.”
“Yes, I agree, but you are still so young. Don’t forget to continually hone your deadlier talent. Someday you will face veterans of the war, and they are a ferocious breed.”
Rising to his feet once more, Orchid gave a deep bow to his lord. He lifted the dossier and clutched it to his breast as if it was the most priceless treasure in the world, fingers nearly digging into the leather. His eyes glistened as a smile spread slowly across his face.
“I will not fail you, Monsignor. I’ll pack the essentials and leave tomorrow.”
“Good boy. For the war-mother, Caer. May She walk once more.”
“For the war-mother, and for the manor. We have dwelt in shadow and shame for far too long.”
“Go now, I’ll inform your siblings of the news. Revel, for you are now the anchor we cast in a treacherous, angry sea.”