River could laugh.

Even through a couple universes, one ring of truth follows her around no matter what: she was nothing but a tool.

The little unspoken hope in her soul. The one that held her in most lonely nights. That tiny spark of life that used to warm her growing up was obliterated with sharp stunning clarity.

All her life she was just being used.

That black apple was a heightening drug that enhanced her senses. As her lashes swept down against cheeks and when she opened her eyes, the endless possibilities of infinite space and dark matter swam before her. Multiple universes glittering like stars on a black dense fabric of space.

And another truth came to her, fresh new information yet staggering, as it entered her innermost mind —it turned out that everything has its functions. Each and everything has its own functions no matter how small it may seem. The design was beautiful. A mathematical geometry across galaxy and infinite space, peppering a dark fabric with flaming stars. Immediately, the creator of this universe came to mind. The name of him too incomprehensible to say out loud. But she knew. It was her father Natura Brumcia was talking about.

Its very fact of the matter sparked a hunger in her. A hunger to know more. To look deeply into each pathways of a hundred universes and observe until she finds it.

Find every meaning behind them all.

An’athra. Vibilia. Vanadis. Three words that can make or break life. The violence, the push and pull of dance between dimensions. She wanted to know more. More cursed fruits to consume. Understand what everything in life has to offer. And devour them all.

The encompassing answer to it can take a huge dive. A diving leap across a point of no return. The crest going down was across her, dropping to abysmal heights of descent that could strike any being with sentience some cold drench of terror. This was what the black apple offered. The sacred phrases to create more universes— and break it. All it took was to go past a point of no return and dive.

Before rushing headlong forwards to it, she looked around. Making sure she wasn’t completely losing her mind. El’rra, the kids, and villagers were still on their knees with arms linking to each other in a largest huddle of crowd she has ever seen. They were terrified, watching in silence.

She realized she must be making quite a spectacle. Her insides flaming with powerful heat. Her mind blissfully in peace like never before in her life. She had never felt so alive. The attention of a growing tribespeople crowd would have drove her anxious but now she bathed in it, luxuriating in their massive focus of terror and curiosity. The feeling gave her a euphoric rush. A runner’s high that thrilled her nerves to abrupt awakening. She felt lighter, growing taller and bigger. Like she was gliding among the clouds. Closing her eyes only made the flying sensation even more enhanced. At this moment, she couldn’t feel her toes touching ground. It was weightlessness. Time had lost its meaning. A hundred years could have passed and she couldn’t care less about it.

Natura Brumcia had a shit-eating grin on her face. White glimmers in her eyes like wisps of dancing flames “Awaken, won’t you?”

Fuck.

Why was she here again?

As the goddess spoke, her elderly facade receded showing her true colors. Beautiful and perfect in every way. Not a flaw in her darkened complexion, white stars dotting on her skin like glitters. The display of perfection gave River pause, reminding her of what Dr. Malia used to say, unravelling a memory that further grounded her mind from drowning under infinite space.

“Be wary of perfection, River. More often than not, when things are far too dazzling— then their shadows become just as blinding. If there is anything science teaches us, it’s that all things are not so one-sided. Everything has its antithesis. This grief you are holding onto? Remember, it’s just as possible to turn it into blinding brilliance instead of its blinding black pitch of shadows. Hear me, River. This grief, it’s all the love you want to give but cannot”.

She scoffed, rubbing her temples that began to ache from crying too much “Stop quoting Doctor Who at me.”

Dr. Malia had paused from taking notes and pointed her pen at River “Which makes you my favorite patient. You get every pop culture references I gotta give. Every. Single. One. Even the classic ones from old musical theatre. Grouch to it all you like. Doesn’t change the fact that you took your time watching the first seasons of Doctor who and read the books about it.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“You’re not supposed to play favorites. And— most of all, you’re not supposed to make judgments about my personal choices other than from a professional medical standpoint. Besides, you don’t even understand the context behind each references you’re referring to which makes it extra infuriating. What you’re doing is blasé mimicry of your husband interests.”

“Like you’re any better? You only watch the shows because you had nothing else to do than joining your nerdy roommates during the weekends.”

“This isn’t about me.” A rush of hot irritation blistering under her skin.

She shrugged, leaning back to her chair. “Much as I hate getting involved with my husband’s cultural research and intense expansive networking from homebrew dungeon roleplaying to meeting studio execs. My husband gets to me. I love him. Been married for over 10 years. At some point, the old antique toys gathering dust in the garage has to be justified. Have you ever heard of a phenomenon called Marie Kondo? Let me tell you how many hours— no days!— WEEKS” she exlaimed, “—to even work out which meaningless junk sparks joy in that nerdy ass soul.”

River slumped back in her seat, trying to reign in her growing anger. “He’s determined, I’ll give you that.”

Sighing, Dr. Malia’s head fell back on her chair, “God I love him. Hoarding and shit. I love him.”

“Do you think you had to go through some meaningful depression to deserve that love? Because that’s what you’re saying. As if all shitty things that happen to us gets their even comeuppance. A due reward for having come through something shitty. Fucking load of bullshit. You’re going to need to do better than spew out pinterest posts at me or I’m leaving your unprofessional service. It has gone on long enough.”

“Here again with your autocratic tendencies. As your therapist, I urge you to be kind and have some empathy. You can’t be harsh and imperious whenever things don’t go your way.”

She stood up abruptly, “This is it. It’s over. I don’t want to get stuck with a wishy-washy doctor who thinks the world is fair. You need to wake up, Dr. Malia. The bad guys are in power. Real heroes are dead.”

“River Florencia!”

She froze, every hair on her body standing up from hearing the sharp drop of her tone. Squeezing her fists, she tamped down the anger at the involuntary reaction. Her grandfather has been dead for three years. He shouldn’t get to affect her this way.

Dr. Malia was no Mr. Florencia. Even at her own outburst, the doctor’s features were full of patience “This love of yours. It has to go somewhere. How is your opera lessons going?”

A sharp exhale, “Can’t sing for shit.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your blog. The latest blog post— it had your signature on it. But you weren’t credited. How did it go? ‘A simplistic milk soup with the trappings of heavy butter and sparse spices. It’s the kind of taste that gently seeps through to the ends of your body, slowly but surely. Promising a comforting satisfaction that ends in bliss and rewarding joy.’ She smiled, “It’s a wonderful article. You should be proud.”

Falling in silence, her jaw could literally be carved in stone “It’s not that important.” she grit out.

Dr. Malia dropped her head again on the backrest of a leather couch she’s sitting on, a beauty cut in perfect lines with no discernible stress on her features but it was heard in her weary voice, “When you start to see value in yourself, it will be met with resistance. Even then, it won’t stop there. It’s gonna be met with more pressure and turbulence. But that’s the price you pay when you’re up there among the clouds, yes?” closing her eyes, “Real talk, River. This is my professional advice. Not seeing value in yourself is a lazy way to go. It takes a real kind of effort to see the beauty in darker things, in messy situations, and in chaotic places.” The sunlight caught on the angles of her face when she slightly tilted to look directly at her patient with one foot out the doorway “The pressure you feel, it will be because you’re rising. Your instincts will tell you to stop, urge you to end it all and retreat back to secure your own ego. These are your animal instincts, and you must grab onto it and be master of them. They do not tell you what to do. You do. Rise up past your instincts.”

She scoffed. “Some advice. Is that a pinterest board you can share with me?”

“One day. Someone else will see you— the value in you. And you won’t believe it. Then you are gonna live the rest of your life blind. Most of all, a coward.”

“What the fuck do you propose I do?”

She made a non-committal gesture, “Fake it ‘till you make it, buddy.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I mean it. Take the first step. Everything else will follow.”

“With the way things have been going in my life, things aren’t going the way as I had planned them to.”

“You don’t see the value in that? River Florencia, you’re twenty-three years old. You of all people should know that success means you have done failures enough to get it.”

She rested a hand on the doorway, whispering “I don’t want to take a risk.”

“That’s okay. When you’re ready. I’ll be here. I have you, River Florencia. I have you.”

She frowned. “You shouldn’t be making promises like that. It’s unprofessional.”

A burst of tickling laughter fell from the doctor’s lips. “Just take the dammed compliment.”