The pendant owner’s name was Mi Dun, and he’d been a manufactory worker just like Anika in the Shan Confederacy. He had a wife and two children, and he’d lived a tiring but happy life with them for ten years.
But one day, he had a dream, and in it, the Benevolent Ones told him to leave his home and his family and undertake a holy pilgrimage to the planet Madhya in the Ghandarna Empire. So he’d complied, abandoning his weeping children for a trek across the stars and into the gutters of Pragha, where he abased himself every day before a metal pole—a Purification Shrine—and survived off scraps of discarded food and clothed himself from charity bins set up by the Ghandarnian locals.
All he’d brought with him was the pendant, which contained a holographic image of his family, in times before he’d been called to heed the will of the Benevolent Ones. The power cell had run out a long time ago, but he’d held onto it nevertheless, keeping it close to his heart when he cried himself to sleep in Pragha’s labyrinthine streets every night.
Anika had learned all that as her astral form sped toward the now-cursed object. The pendant would no longer bring him any comfort. Rather, it would consume his soul, encased as it was in nightmarish layers of Void Essence.
She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Mi Dun was a very silly man, maybe even a bad one because of how he’d left his family, but he didn’t deserve to become a Songstress’s plaything.
The White Wind hummed by her side. It didn’t really care about the man, but it was happy to do what she wanted it to do, at least regarding the Songstress’s curse.
Break it, she told the Guardian. Save him.
The White Wind wrapped itself protectively around Anika’s astral form just before she slipped into the Void Essence swirling around the pendant. Its colorless radiance filled her vision for a moment, and then it peeled away, revealing a small habitant cell that resembled the one in which she’d lived.
Still, there were also many other differences. The walls were un-cracked, painted a warm shade of cream, and adorned by crayon drawings. The recreational screen sat amidst a synthetic wood mounting instead of a bare metal rack. The ceiling lamps were bright and soothing, not faint and flickering.
An altar sat in the corner of the habitation cell. It was tall and made of plastic, and on its highest plinth were four figurines made of cheap ceramic. They were humanoid in shape, but Anika couldn’t get a good look at them for some reason.
The White Wind hummed, then. It extended a radiant tendril at the altar, before waving it in a warning gesture. It didn’t want Anika to focus too much on the ceramic figurines. Doing so for too long might draw the attentions of those portrayed by them, and if that happened, minuscule as the chances might be, she would be in grave danger.
The Benevolent Ones… Shanians worship them, so that altar’s dedicated to them, Anika realized. But if Shanians pray to altars back home, why do they pray to those strange shrines in Pragha?
She pushed her musings aside as the door at the far end of the habitation cell creaked open. Mi Dun’s former home had separate bedrooms, unlike the single-space dwelling Anika had shared with her parents, where they’d all relied on hanging curtain screens for privacy.
Something stepped from the open doorway. It was short, squat, and malformed, with long, gangly arms sprouting from its bulbous torso before terminating in twisted, claw-tipped digits. Its head was a misshapen mass filled with fangs and a bevy of bloodshot eyes scattered all across its forehead.
The creature turned its bewildered gaze upon Anika and flinched. It had only just begun to coalesce into the horror that would plague Mi Dun’s dreams in which his wife and children were eaten alive over and over again. It was weak and vulnerable, and it would be for the next few hours.
Anika told the White Wind to make the creature go away. The Guardian hummed. Tendrils of light shot out, wrapped themselves around the newborn nightmare, and squeezed, causing the creature to wail in pain and dismay.
And then it burst, leaving behind nothing but a dirty crimson smear upon the walls of the habitation cell. The dwelling itself started to crumble immediately, as the Void Essence wreathing the pendant dissolved.
Anika blinked and found herself floating next to Bei Feng once more, with the White Wind still coiled comfortably around her astral shoulders. The Shanian’s features were awash in equal parts horror and awe.
“You unraveled that curse!” Bei Feng cried, his voice laden with disbelief. “And you did so without casting a single spell! How did you…? This is incredible! Sorcerers twenty years into their training couldn’t do what you just did. No… I couldn’t replicate your feat, and I am a fairly accomplished sorcerer myself.”
You definitely are, Anika thought, as she turned her astral regard upon the Shanian. Her brief venture had sharpened her senses, it seemed. She could now perceive Bei Feng’s power more clearly, and look upon the multi-colored dress he wore about both his physical and astral forms more directly.
He would have never been in any danger from a Songstress, not even in the face of an army of them. The Shanian could bend solid blocks of synthsteel with his mind, pull spaceships from the skies with his incantations, burn entire city blocks with his chants…
Anika shook her head and pushed her most recent thoughts to the deepest and darkest parts of her mind, hoping that Bei Feng hadn’t thought to read them. She didn’t doubt that if he wanted to, he could dig them from her soul with ease, ripping her apart in the process.
“I couldn’t let something so horrible happen to that man,” she said quietly. “He’s suffered enough already, I think.”
“You were able to read the lingering aura off his pendant, too.” Bei Feng laughed and clapped his hands in delight. “I was surprised at your sheer aptitude for sorcery at first, and to some degree, I still am, but how could I expect anything less from someone of your pedigree?”
“My pedigree?” Anika frowned in puzzlement. “Do you know my parents, sir? Were there many sorcerers in my family?”
“You…” The smile faded from Bei Feng’s face. He blinked in obvious bewilderment. “You do not know… you haven’t been told… of course, of course. Why would you have been? Ah, please disregard what I just said. I am not as young as I look, and I ramble far too much these days, Miss Anika.”
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“No, I won’t. You’re hiding something about me, sir, and I believe it has to do with why I have been brought all the way here by… by that monster Maruti in the first place.”
“I…” Bei Feng sighed, then nodded. “I would reveal the full truth to you, but in all fairness, it isn’t my place to do so. Hiran will tell you everything you deserve to know.”
“He will?” Anika asked, feeling excitement well up within her. “Of course he will. He’s a hero. I know it. He won’t lie to me.”
“No, I don’t believe he will, Miss Anika,” Bei Feng agreed, visibly forcing a smile back upon his astral features. He gestured in the direction of the praying Shanians. The man named Mi Dun had taken his pendant from within the folds of his clothes and was looking at it. His features were twisted in pain and confusion. Bei Feng pointed at Mi Dun. “He probably felt a slight wave of cold emanating from his formerly cursed pendant. That is one of the physical phenomena associated with breaking curses. But he will probably pay it little heed as the hours slide by.”
“I think he should go home,” Anika said. “He shouldn’t be here, not when he has his family waiting for him. Could you contact him anyway, sir, and tell him to go home?”
“The Benevolent Ones call upon us to serve in different ways,” Bei Feng said, shaking his head. “I would not presume to interfere with this gentleman’s holy duty.”
“What exactly is his holy duty? Praying to that rusty metal pole?” Anika looked at Bei Feng. “What about you? Do you have a holy duty to be here in Madhya, too?”
“Yes, I do.” The Shanian’s eyes blazed with zeal. “And I intend to see it through, regardless of the cost and peril to myself.”
An ethereal shriek reached Anika. She turned back to where she’d last seen the Songstress. The Void Entity was still there, glaring at her.
Anika couldn’t help herself. She stuck her tongue out at the Songstress. The White Wind buzzed and radiated waves of amusement.
“We shouldn’t provoke Void Entities, no matter how safe we think we are,” Bei Feng chided her. “That Songstress is already angered by your intervention. Now it will… ah. My warning is belated.”
The Void Entity threw its head back and shrieked. More of its kind stepped into view, emerging from the infinite chaos of the Void. They glared in unison at Anika. Some of them began to giggle. Others drooled and flexed their clawed hands. A discordant melody rose from their ranks.
Anika flinched upon hearing their song. The White Wind recoiled in palpable horror and wrapped itself protectively over the ears of her astral form, but that did nothing to stop the Songstresses’ voices from reaching her. Her vision spun. A searing pain tore its way through her soul.
Bei Feng waved his hand, and a shimmering iridescent sphere sprang into existence over his and Anika’s astral forms. The unholy song emanating from the Void Entities cut off immediately, leaving the grotesque chorus to howling in impotent silence.
Bei Feng turned to Anika. “Are you alright?”
“I… I am,” she said, blinking slowly as the burning agony between her eyes faded away into a dull, throbbing ache. “What just happened?”
“The Songstresses attempted to strip your sanity from you with their voices.” Bei Feng clicked his tongue and sighed. “I acted as quickly as I could. Fortunately, I was able to prevent you from incurring any irreversible harm. But if I were just a bit slower…”
“Things could have been bad.” Anika groaned and clutched her astral forehead. “Very bad. Alright, I won’t provoke Void Entities anymore.”
“That would be for the best, Miss Anika. Should we return, then? I hadn’t intended to go beyond a mere introductory foray into the Void for today’s lesson, but we’ve achieved much more than that already.”
“Yes, let’s go. I want to speak to Hiran,” Anika said, nodding.
Bei Feng snapped his fingers. Light poured from his hands to envelop Anika. The White Wind buzzed discontentedly, but it didn’t do much beyond wrapping itself more tightly around her.
And then she was breathing in warm, perfumed air, feeling the rise and fall of her chest and the weight of her limbs upon the armrests of her chair. She opened her eyes and saw Bei Feng pouring a fresh cup of tea for her.
They were back in the room with the black walls again.
“When I entered the pendant, I went to a strange place that looked like a Shanian’s habitation cell,” she said, as Bei Feng leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t a real place, I’m sure. It felt…”
“Temporary?” Bei Feng nodded. “When you challenged the curse placed on that gentleman’s possession, it projected a pocket reality, a Conceptual Chasm, in the terminology of sorcerers. That is what you and your Guardian entered, and when you defeated whatever embodiment the curse chose to adopt, the curse dissolved, and so did the Conceptual Chasm it created.”
“I… I didn’t do anything.” Anika glanced at the White Wind, which was nestled around her shoulders once more. “My… Guardian grabbed the strange creature in that place and killed it. It didn’t put up much of a fight. I suppose it was still weak and hadn’t gotten the chance to grow stronger, yet.”
“You are correct, Miss Anika.” A grave expression came over Bei Feng’s face. “Though you emerged triumphant from your latest foray, your victory was due as much to your foe’s feebleness as it was to your Guardian’s strength. A powerful curse will project a much more dangerous Conceptual Chasm in its defense, and within that Chasm, you can expect the curse’s embodiments to be far more formidable.”
“Did you say ‘embodiments’?” Anika asked, picking her teacup and taking a sip of the fragrant liquid.
“Yes, I did. You might very well find yourself confronted by more than one creature within a Conceptual Chasm. You’ve probably already figured this out, but if your astral form sustains injuries in a Conceptual Chasm, your very soul will be hurt, too. Those injuries might even transfer to your physical body. I cannot project myself into a Conceptual Chasm like you can, Miss Anika, but during my younger days, I have witnessed dire fates befall several of my peers who could.”
“I will be more careful next time, sir,” Anika promised.
“That’s good.” Bei Feng tapped his temple. “Incidentally, you know what an Ajna Interface is, don’t you?”
“I do, yes. I have one. I use it to tally my hours on the clock and fill out repair requisition forms whenever I have to. Well, I did, anyway. I don’t know how long I’ve been away, but I’ve probably been fired by now.”
Another thought occurred to her. She put her teacup down, more harshly than she intended, and stood up. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. “My parents! They don’t know what happened to me! I must—”
“Calm yourself, Miss Anika. I took the liberty of scanning your worker tag, which allowed me to discern your full identity and your address. With that information, I contacted your parents and told them that you’d been chosen to work for my company as a merchant understudy. I have also transmitted them ten thousand credits, which I explained off as your signing bonus and salary in advance. They have been worried, yes, but their fears are now assuaged somewhat. Speaking to you in person would set their hearts fully at ease.”
“You…”Anika blinked in astonishment. Then she skirted the table, threw her arms around Bei Feng’s neck, and embraced the startled Shanian tightly. “Thank you! Thank you so much! How can I ever repay you?”
Bei Feng gingerly but gently pried her away, the smile on his face forced and brittle. “It… it is my pleasure to be of service, Miss Anika. We can figure out some means of repayment later, but for now… please, let us extend some measure of physical propriety to one another in the days to come.”
He doesn’t like to be touched, Anika realized, reading the surface emotions of intense disgust emanating from the Shanian. They weren’t directed at her, but at the sensations of physical contact with another mortal. Bei Feng would be fine with handshakes or the equivalent, but anything beyond that evoked profound revulsion in him.
She stepped back hastily. “I’m sorry, sir. That won’t happen again. But thank you! Thank you so much for speaking to my parents! Ten thousand credits! Wow! I don’t know how long it’ll take me to work that off for you, but I’ll do it, no matter what.”