Hermera

The 18th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

Rune held a black orb lined with blue-metal filigree. It was a swirling mass of darkness, as though its color was a liquid held inside. It called to Arche. He wanted to hold it, to explore it, to know it. It was half the size of his head, barely large enough to be held in two hands, but it had a presence, an undeniable weight of magic. Half expecting the skill to fail, Arche Examined it.

The Agony of Psyche

Rarity: Legendary

Quality: Masterwork

Durability: 2,000 / 2,000

Weight: 5 kilograms

Traits: ?

“The Agony of Psyche?”

Rune’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“You know of it?”

Arche paused, cursing inwardly. Lord Cypress of Dawnwood had warned him to keep his Examine skill a secret.

“Not exactly,” he hedged. “It doesn’t sound pleasant.”

Rune’s expression dampened, turning more thoughtful.

“It won’t be. Psyche was horribly mistreated and stored much of her pain in this orb. It fed on her enchantment and mutated it.”

Arche grimaced.

“Lovely.”

“Quite. Are you ready?”

He nodded and Rune placed the orb gently into his palm. It was heavier than he expected, given its size. He held it up to his face, squinting at the inky blackness of the orb.

“How do I activate it?”

“Will it.”

Arche was about to make a very witty retort when the world broke apart.

He was left floating in darkness, no sensations except his pounding heart. The orb lifted out of his hand and floated away from him. He clutched at it, trying to snatch it back, but it was beyond his reach. It morphed and shifted, no longer spherical, but now a flexing, growing thing. Long protrusions broke out of it. Detail was refined, texture added, and color changed, until he was no longer looking at an item but at a clone of himself.

Almost.

This version wore strange clothes. A simple shirt of fine thread, a jacket of leather, tan pants, and black leather boots. His hair was short on the sides, nearly to the scalp, and the slightly longer hair on top was styled to one side in a way that looked crisp and effortless. Most notable of all, however, was the distinct lack of scarring on the doppelganger’s face or throat. The skin was smooth, perfectly intact, with a thin, handsome layer of stubble wrapping his jawline. Arche frowned, immediately unsettled. His double regarded him with a mixture of boredom and disdain.

“Are you the orb or are you me?”

Doppel-Arche sneered.

“I’m hardly either, at this point. What have you done with yourself?”

Arche looked down. He was still wearing the simple clothes he had entered Rune’s shop with. Dark linen pants with a lighter shirt, a simple but well-fitted pair of closed-toed shoes.

“Embarrassing,” Doppel-Arche continued.

“Fuck you. Who are you?”

“I’m you, genius. The real you. The one you forgot.”

Arche clenched his fists and glared at the other version of himself.

“Are you going to explain?”

Doppel-Arche shrugged and pantomimed a yawn.

“Sure, I can do some charity. But I’m going to take you on a journey, first. Trust me, it won’t be pleasant.”

“Or you could not.”

Doppel-Arche gave a wolfish smile.

“That would defeat the purpose. You see, by the time this is over, you’re going to return my body to me and you’re going to be fucking thankful for it.”

“Return? What are you talking about?”

Doppel-Arche rolled his eyes.

“I hope I was never this stupid. I’m you. The original you. You were born out of a freak accident that happens when you take an explosion to the face and get soul-snatched. You were not meant to exist. You’re just a defense mechanism that I fully intend to override. By the end of this, we will merge and I will regain what I lost.”

Arche brought his fists up.

“I’m not letting go without a fight.”

“I don’t have to fight you. You’ll see. The truth won’t just set you free, it’ll break you.”

Doppel-Arche gestured to the side. Arche looked and saw a wolf snarling at him. Big, brown, and half its face missing, revealing white streaks of bone beneath. Arche took a step back out of instinct but he had no time to run. The wolf was barely a dozen paces from him and it charged. He threw up a defensive hand as the wolf jumped. It soared over him and continuing running through a forest that had sprung up from nowhere. Trees surrounded him, each glowing with soft light. His double had disappeared. Instead, Lyssa was next to him, dressed in her Dawnwood armor. She had her bow leveled at the wolf but didn’t shoot. Someone ran from the wolf, tearing through the woods ahead of them. A human.

Him.

He crashed through the woods in a wide arc, circling back toward Lyssa’s position in his blind dash. Arche remembered. He remembered the wolf catching up to him, bearing him to the ground. Here, he watched it all as a spectator, but most of all he watched Lyssa. It had been over a month since he’d left for Ship’s Shape and he missed her. This version of her was clearly wracked with indecision, her bow drawn taut. At any moment, she would shoot and kill the wolf, saving him, but she didn’t. She drew the bow tighter, then slowly released the tension.

Arche frowned and turned back toward the wolf and the past version of himself. The wolf had gotten its mouth around his arm, sharp teeth mangling the limb. Then, it released his arm and bit down around his head. He heard his own screams, hoarse and terrified. The bones crunched and the screams went silent.

“This didn’t happen,” Arche murmured, staring in horror as the wolf started eating his face.

“But it should have.”

Arche whirled to see Lyssa face him directly.

“Bringing a human back to the village, ushering him through our sacred home. This was the final straw for the council. Ten years they deliberated. Ten years they argued and debated the severity of my crime, the merits of my penance. Then you appear. I should have let the wolf kill you. I should have killed you myself for trespassing on our lands. A human, an outsider, let into Dawnwood, ushered through our gates by my hand. You are the final reason for my exile.”

Arche took a step back. It was her face, her voice, but it wasn’t her words. It couldn’t be.

“You don’t mean that.”

Lyssa’s face twisted in derision.

“You have brought me nothing but pain. You have assured my destruction and my death, as you have with all who associate with you. I killed my brother – but letting you live is undoubtedly my greatest mistake.”

“This isn’t you. You’re not real.” Arche wiped his eyes, finding his cheeks wet. “You’re not real!”

The world around him shifted, spinning in a blur of color. He was underground, next to the rotting, bloated corpses of three arachtaurs. The giant spider-women oozed dark blood as the webs around them crackled with flame. Next to him Helwan stuck his fingers into the pockets of his once vibrant waistcoat.

“You’re quite easy to manipulate, you know,” the satyr said. “Twelve hired adventurers died against those arachtaurs, but you and the elf come in and kill them without much trouble at all. I knew you’d be perfect for retrieving the artifact and you were too eager to agree. You bonded to it, which was a mistake to allow, but you were so ready to let me study it. It’s marvelous.”

Arche didn’t say anything. A wicked chill spread through him, a heavy weight hung from his neck.

“You were so eager to take me with you everywhere. To give me position and responsibility. Who wants to be a simple bookkeeper when I can become the headmaster of an entire school of magic. Do you have any idea the power you gave me? Even better, you thought it was your idea the whole time.”

Helwan gave an evil, denigrating smile.

“Stupid boy. You have no idea what you’ve given up. What you’re still giving up.”

“You’re not real.” He meant it as a shout, but it crawled out a whisper.

The satyr laughed, loud and cruel in a way Arche had never heard Helwan laugh before. The world shifted again. A different underground area. This time, he was in a long tunnel. Tess lay bleeding against a wall; unconscious, dying. Odelia and Abraxios looked at him with disgust and utter hatred.

“A mind mage,” Odelia said. “You may be weak, but you’re still a monster.”

“If the people of Myriatos knew what you really were, they would butcher you and feast over your corpse. They would sing songs and tell tales of your demise.”

“They only tolerate you because Lyssa wills it. You’re just a dog on her leash. Good dog. Sit. Play dead.”

The words pressed in on him. He held his hands to his ears but it did nothing to stop the flow. They hated him. They all hated him. They were using him.

“Stop it!” Arche shouted.

The world shifted again.

He stood on a hillside, watching the construction of the insula in Myriatos. Basil stood next to him.

“I idolized you because I thought you were strong. I wanted to be like you. Now, I want nothing to do with you. All the power in the world and you would still be weak. It’s who you are. You’re incapable of doing anything the right way. All you do is fail; if not now, then next time. Don’t worry, though, someone else will pay the price. When the ones you pretend to love die, how much do you think your presence will comfort them? Especially when it’s your hands holding the blade? You’re pathetic.”

Arche shut his eyes, but it didn’t matter.

“You’re not real.”

The world shifted again.

A half-naked version of him was strung up from a tree by a rope wrapped around his leg. A knife stuck out of his ribs, creating bloody dribbles that streaked up his body and dripped to the ground. A beautiful woman in blue-scaled armor leaned against a nearby tree.

“Not you,” Arche murmured. Something in his chest tore at what he knew was coming next.

The captured version of himself said something, but there was no sound. Tess stepped forward, grabbed the knife handle, and twisted. Pain and surprise registered on the hanging Arche’s face, then his body went slack.

“I took pity on you that day,” Tess said, looking back at the real Arche. “But then, you’ve always been easy to pity. Like a lost little pet trying to find its way home. You hurt so much inside and you don’t even know why.”

“You’re not real.”

He didn’t want to hear this. Couldn’t hear this. Not from her.

“Not real? What would you know of real? Did you think I really cared for you? I know you want me. I can see it in your eyes when you look my way. I can see it in the way your gaze lingers, the way your fingers itch. Longing to hold, to be held. Your desperate loneliness. Did you really think I would love you? Did you really think I could?”

“Stop. Please.”

The weight around his neck was like an entire world had dropped onto his shoulders. It bore him to the ground. The wall of the insula was a dinner plate by comparison. A thin whisper in his mind told him to let go, to give up, and he would be free from the burden.

“Tortured souls aren’t my thing, but you’re so earnest that I couldn’t help but tease you. You’re a plaything. Something to pity for a bit of fun but, like all playthings, you’re growing boring. I wonder how it will feel for you to watch me play with someone else. Will it tear at your little heart to see me take another man to bed? Another woman, perhaps? Will it make you burn? Will you imagine yourself there instead?”

Arche opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t come out. It was like a boulder had been placed onto his chest, driving out all air. He tried to breathe but it came fast and shallow. The world faded around him. It was too much, it was all too much. An axe appeared above him, gripped in a mighty hand, pressing down into his chest.

“Ready to give up, yet?” his own voice called out to him.

Arche didn’t react. He couldn’t.

“Too bad. I’ve more to show you.”

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A dark room appeared around him. Stone walls, dirt floor, sand near the corners. A window set into the wall revealed more sand outside, choking a few small, dead bushes. The air was dry and hot despite the night. A light flickered on the ground and Arche moved toward it, through the doorway and out into the night. Dark figures approached the house, moving strangely and holding odd weapons. The flickering light was a flashing indicator on one of their chests and they wore strange helmets with tubes over their eyes. One moved forward, next to the wall, and crouched. He made hand gestures and the other two circled around.

Someone moved behind Arche and he spun, backing away. A little boy stepped out wearing a large, tan shirt that went down to his knees, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The boy froze as he caught sight of the man, confusion clear on his face. The man lifted up the tubes over his eyes and pulled down a wrapping around his mouth.

It was Arche.

“It’s all right,” the other Arche said. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Come here.”

The boy stayed rooted where he was. Fear had frozen all thought, but it wouldn’t last forever. At any moment he would scream or shout, and whatever the other Arche was there for would be ruined.

But the boy didn’t scream.

The other Arche pulled a brightly colored something from his pocket and held it out.

“Here. You have candy in this godforsaken place? Take some candy.”

The boy took a hesitant step forward, then another.

“That’s it. Come get the candy.”

The boy reached out a tentative hand and the other Arche pounced. One hand covered the boy’s mouth, the other gripped the back of his head. A loud crack split the night as the boy’s head twisted to the side and Arche laid the body against the ground.

“Stupid fucking kids. Always in the wrong place and they never fucking learn.”

He lowered the tubes back over his face and entered the house, leaving the real Arche to gape at the gasping, convulsing, still-twitching corpse of a child in front of him.

“Very tragic, isn’t it?” Doppel-Arche’s voice dripped with false mourning.

“I…I…”

Arche couldn’t speak, couldn’t vomit, couldn’t breathe. The boy’s glassy eyes pierced his soul, accusing him, and they were right to.

“He wasn’t the first, you know, and he wasn’t the last. I was there for his daddy, some local police chief who took too much money from the wrong people. If that boy’d just stayed asleep, we might have let him live. It’s funny how whole lives can end because of a decision as small and insignificant as going outside for fresh air because you had trouble sleeping in the heat of a summer’s night in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt.”

“You killed him.”

“We killed him. My actions are yours. You don’t exist without me. You’ve been playing the hero these last two months, impotent as you are. Do you want to know what real heroism is? Do you want to know what real change looks like? Let me tell you, it’s full of blood. I’ll let you in on the last little secret. The moment of your birth. You excited? You should be. I had big plans. Big, big plans.”

Hands grabbed Arche’s shoulders and hauled him upright. The world shifted around him. Open sea sprawled before him as he stood on a small cliff edge. He wore a heavy vest over strange clothes, with something hard covering his chest and back.

“I don’t like this, Alex,” someone said. “They should have been here by now.”

“Give them a few minutes.” The voice came from Arche’s mouth but he almost didn’t recognize it. “Crete’s bigger than most islands around here. They’re probably just trying to dodge patrols.”

“Still feels like a stupid place to do this trade. The Americans have a base here. Couldn’t we have picked a more neutral ground?”

“The Americans are too busy spying on farmers in the desert to bother searching their allies’ backyards. They’ve been pussyfooting this war for almost three decades now. If things are going to get better, then they’re going to have to get a whole lot worse, first. Besides, we’re the Sons of Ares. Its only right we do this in Greece.”

The other man shook his head.

“Seems sketchy. Too much reliance on other groups. Too high a risk for getting double-crossed. I’m telling you we should drop this and go to the Russians.”

“You worry too much, Isaac. The Russians talk a big game, but when the cards fall into place, they won’t do a fucking thing. The Iranians are the only ones with a dirty bomb on the market big enough to actually cause an international response, and the only ones stupid enough to actually sell it. Once their proxies get here, we’ll be off scot-free.”

“I hope your plan is worth the cost.”

Arche smiled.

“War is the only language this world understands. The weak will die, a culling to strengthen the herd, and a better world will be built from the ashes. Ah, here they are.”

A boat arrived at the beach below them and several men jumped off, wielding weapons of iron and wood. Words echoed through Arche’s head.

Guns. AK-47s. Kalashnikovs.

Weapons that dealt death from afar, faster than any arrow, as sure as any blade.

Arche made his way down the cliffside. Two of his men came with him, including the one called Isaac, but the other five stayed back on the cliff. As they approached, Arche kept one hand on the handle of a pistol and lifted the other in greeting.

“Welcome, friends.”

Isaac translated Arche’s words into another language. The men responded warily and Isaac translated their response.

“They say ‘peace be upon you’ but that’s just their way of saying hello. They asked if you’re Alex Dazend.”

“The one and only. Nothing wrong with a little peace. We’re fighting for peace, after all. Eventually. Do they have it?”

Isaac rattled off a question, then nodded at the response.

“They do. They want to see our part next, though.”

Arche took something out of his pocket and held it up. Arche’s mind reached for the word: phone. He opened the phone and navigated through a series of applications and numbers. Then, he held the phone out to show the other men.

“There. Half now, half upon retrieval.”

Isaac translated and the man in front gestured behind him. The other men produced a metal container the size of a small fridge.

“Ain’t she a thing of beauty. There’s enough radioactive dust on this bad boy to kill half of D.C.”

Arche manipulated the phone and showed it to the other men again, who smiled broadly and gestured at the metal container.

“Alright. Jorge, grab the other side with me. Isaac, thank them for their business and wish them a safe ride home.”

Arche bent and grabbed one side of the container while Jorge did the same on the other. It must have weighed over a hundred pounds, but together they lifted it without much trouble. Isaac was still translating the message when a loud crack rang out and the lead man dropped to the ground, blood pooling from a hole in his forehead. Arche cursed and dropped his half of the container. The others started shouting as soon as their leader was killed, and they opened fire on Arche, Isaac, and Jorge. Isaac took six bullets to the chest before he could pull his own gun and fell to the ground, dead. Arche was quicker on the draw and, using the container as cover, shot three of the gunmen. Then a bullet lodged itself into his shoulder and he was forced to duck. This gave the perfect view to see men in dark uniforms emerge from the treeline where his own men had been hiding.

Arche cursed and ripped something small and round off his belt. He pulled a pin on it and lobbed it toward them, ignoring the pain and grinding sensation in his shoulder. The treeline exploded a few moments later, men and limbs sent flying. Arche shot at the others as they ran toward the beach. Something bounced off the ground next to him and landed on the container. Arche turned and saw they’d thrown a grenade of their own – which had landed on top of the dirty bomb.

“Fuck.”

The world went white.

Arche reeled as the white eventually faded into gray, then into black.

“As it turns out, taking a grenade and an imperial fuck-ton of radioactive dust to the face does wonders for your complexion.”

Arche turned around and found Doppel-Arche watching him.

Alex.

“You. You were going to kill civilians. Innocent people.”

“The price of doing war.” Alex laughed. “A necessary sacrifice. The world tried to play nice, but their indifference was causing the suffering of billions. One little war and the world would have been a better place for everyone who survived.”

Arche felt revulsion rise up in him.

“You’re psychotic. I would never have done that.”

“But you did. You killed hundreds before that little meeting, Alex. Thousands. You founded the Sons of Ares, based on that old Greek god of war. You drafted the plan to kill most of America’s leadership and blame their enemies for it, plunge the whole world into war. You were behind it all.”

“No. No, you did it. That wasn’t me.”

“We’re the same person, Alex.”

“That’s not my name. My name is Arche.”

“Christ, you really have gone native, haven’t you?” Alex growled. “Arche doesn’t exist. There is only me. Me! My mind, which has been broken until now. Until you put it back together and reformed me. You’ve done a pathetic job here on this world – but don’t worry. I’m going to have a lot of fun with it.”

Breathing was getting difficult, but Arche snarled through it.

“I’m not giving you control.”

“Why not? Go back to your friends who wish you were dead? Leech off of their goodwill until they kill you themselves? Some of them already tried.”

“You showed me nothing but lies.”

“Those things are your truth. You believe it, each and every one.”

“I’m not going to let you kill more people.”

“Because it’s fine when you do it? It’s fine when they don’t look exactly like people? It’s fine when it’s done to protect those you have a personal tie to? Spare me the ‘holier-than-thou’ bullshit. We both know you don’t really mean it.”

“Then I’ll kill myself.”

Alex smiled.

“Good luck. Or are you forgetting? Thanatos won’t let you die. You negotiated that yourself. Bravo, really the only intelligent thing you’ve done so far.”

Arche’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. We’re ticking to a close here. I know you can feel my memories combining with yours. I see you’ve fucked up doing magic, somehow. Really, I never would have thought I’d be this pathetic. Healing energy, eh? Just takes a bit of applied willpower. Should be as simple as”—Alex snapped his fingers—“that.”

A spasm trickled through Arche.

“I’m not going to let you take over.”

“You can’t stop me. I am the natural way of things. I am who is supposed to be here. You’re not about to sweep my afterlife out from under me.”

Alex stepped forward. One hand stretched out toward Arche.

“You don’t have to fight. You don’t have to hurt. You’ve done enough, I’ll take it from here. It’s all right, Hyde. Jekyll’s home.”

“No!” The word tore from Arche’s throat in a gasp.

Alex cocked his head.

“Oh? You think you’re different from me? The world is poison, Alex, you’ve always known that. It has to be burned down to make something new, to make something better. There will always be sacrifices for the greater good, there will always be casualties. Look at yourself.”

Alex swiped the air with his hand and the world shifted again. They stood in front of a pile of burning beastmar corpses, the frozen figure of Callias Buteo snarling at him with a finger raised.

“Barely a few weeks in and you were itching to tear down this bastard, you knew things could be better, but you also knew that we are not the ones who make things better. We don’t build paradise, Alex. We are the burners. We are the ones who will sit in the shadows of the silver city while those around us reap the benefits of our sacrifices.”

Alex waved a hand dismissively.

“You’ve spent these months in your fantasy world, believing these people love you, fearing that they don’t. Return my body to me and you can keep living your fantasy life. Do whatever you want. Bang Tess, marry Lyssa, kill whoever you like. None of it will matter. You can be a god – but you will give me what is mine.”

Arche’s breath came fast and short. Alex held out his hand, waiting for him to take the deal.

“Get the happy ending you want, leave the rest to me. You know this will only end in blood. Only I can do what needs doing. You don’t have the spine. Give in.”

People materialized around him. Basil, Odelia, Abraxios, Helwan, Tess, and Lyssa.

“We don’t need you. You’re too weak to help us.”

“Do something good for once in your life, monster.”

“Be useful. Let go.”

“Stop it!” Arche pressed his hands over his ears.

“So naïve, such a fool.”

“Take the deal. Don’t be so pathetic.”

“It’ll be better for all of us.”

They crowded around him. Towered over him. Their words drilled into his skull with unrelenting pressure, carving themselves into his brain. Above them all rang Alex’s voice.

“You were never meant to exist. Your whole life is one mistake after another. Make the right choice, now. No more pain, no more regret. I’ll let you live out your existence here, in this sphere. I’ll even give you some good memories to hold onto. You want that girl? You can bed her every night. You can have her exactly as you remember her. Your own personal paradise. All you have to do is surrender.”

Arche felt his teeth crack under the strain of his clenched jaw. They hated him. They hated him. But did it matter? War was coming. An unstoppable war. A world war. If his allies abandoned him, he would fight it alone.

Alone.

Always alone.

His friends gathered around him, but they weren’t his friends. Faces full of hate. Their fists clenched, their weapons ready, prepared to strike. There was no light, no comfort, no forgiveness, no pity. He had no one. No one but himself.

It didn’t matter.

Arche rose and locked eyes with the dark version of himself.

“This is my life. I’m not going to let any of you take it from me.”

Alex’s face twisted into a snarl.

“You stole it from me!”

A hand closed around Arche’s throat, lifting him into the air. Arche tried to break free, but Alex’s grip was strong, unyielding. Arche dug his fingers into Alex’s eyes, anything to make him let go. Pain ignited in his right hand as Alex bit his thumb off.

“I tried to be nice, but you just had to make things difficult.”

“Fuck you and everything you stand for.”

Using his leg as a pivot, Alex twisted and slammed Arche into the ground, hand still around his throat.

“Submit.”

Arche felt his life ebbing away like water down the drain. It was difficult to speak, to think.

“Never.”

“Fine. The hard way, then.”

Alex released his throat and placed both hands on Arche’s head. Arche felt the pressure of a psychic attack, but it was different. Whether it was due to being in a mental space or because the attack was coming from himself, the psychic pressure expanded from inside his mind. Alex didn’t have to try to break into it, he was already there.

Arche slapped Alex’s hands away and shoved, giving himself a moment to breathe. He scrambled to his feet to see the apparitions of his friends approaching him. They surrounded him on all sides, each looking at him with loathing and disgust. Arche froze, unable to think.

Odelia reached him first and sank a knife into his thigh. Arche’s entire leg seized and his breath caught in the back of his throat. Basil caught his other leg. Abraxios and Helwan stabbed his arms before he could push them away, pinning them to his torso. A blade entered his back, severing his spine as he watched Tess step up in front of him. She grabbed him by the nape of the neck and slowly drove a knife into his stomach.

“Die,” she whispered.

Arche stared into her eyes, looking for some recognition. Some acknowledgement of what they had. Something he could hold onto. All he found was hatred and contempt.

“Please…” His voice was a whimper, a desperate thing. “Please.”

“These are the people you surrounded yourself with. All turn on you in the end,” Alex said. “You have no one but yourself. No one but me. You never have.”

Arche sank to his knees. The others crowded around him, staring down at his mangled body. No one moved to help him. It was hard to think. The pain had numbed most of his body and he could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. If he did, he would never wake up, never leave this cursed place.

He couldn’t hold on.

A strand of Arche’s consciousness receded inward. It barricaded itself away as far into his soul as he could reach. There, panicking, searching desperately for something to use, Arche found a glowing bead of orange embedded directly at the center of his being. He connected to it.

Power flooded him.

The apparitions around him were blasted into nothingness by the light that burst forth from him. The light was not a glow but a powerful and living thing. It stretched outward, seeping into the darkness and pushing it back. Strength returned to Arche, and with it, clarity of thought.

Alex snarled.

“You won’t survive this world. It killed you once already. Give yourself to me and I will make us safe.”

“There is no ‘us,’” Arche said. “You had your time and you squandered it. It’s my turn, now.”

“No. No, you’ll see. You’ll see how easy it is to become me. It might not be today or tomorrow, but one day you’ll see. You can’t run from who you are. We’re killers, you and I. Willing to do whatever it takes! One day soon, you won’t be enough, and on that day, you’re going to let me out. You can’t put this genie back in the bottle.”

“Goodbye, Alex.”

Arche raised a hand.

You are trying to leave the Agony of Psyche.

Do you want to leave?

Yes

No

“No!” Alex lunged toward him, grabbing his throat.

He felt his consciousness move, propelled through space unseen by metaphysical forces. When he opened his eyes, he stood in Rune’s hidden reading room, holding an orb that shifted quickly from orange to black. Rune stood in front of him, watching him intently.

“Did it work?”

A blast of orange light lit up the room.

With barely a thought, he crushed the Agony of Psyche into powder and rent metal.