"Oh Lord Axiom, Arbiter of Balance, I beseech thee, grant me insight."
He felt…strange doing this. How often did someone pray to themselves? It left a peculiar taste in his mouth.
Regardless, he found it hard to control his excitement when a tiny whisper buzzed in his mind. He focused, and his own words repeated in perfect clarity as another star popped up around his thought space.
He shivered, thrilled by it all. It worked!
He was afraid his singularity-infused words would reach something else and turn his little experiment into a terrible disaster, but it didn't! He carefully avoided adding unnecessary words to his moniker while invoking it, but it seemed there were no issues at all.
Hmm, maybe Axiom's full name is not even set in stone just yet. He wasn't sure, but it was definitely a possibility.
He shook his head, Okay, that's the first step over with.
His plan was multi-step, and it involved a few more leaps of logic that had to be performed. He hadn't 'responded' to any of the prayers until now because of the potential repercussions. Who knew what kind of surreal shade sequences were out there? What if they could somehow find his location through that link, sabotage him with forbidden knowledge, or just do something he couldn't even fathom?
Luckily, responding to myself has none of these risks.
Pleased with himself, he extended his mind to this new star around his thought space and felt a…connection. However, it quickly became disorienting because he felt not one but two connections.
He surmised one was the link extending from his personal singularity to Axiom, whereas the second came from Axiom's response. Yeah, this is not going to be intuitive, he mused.
Regardless, inside the star, his mind felt like he could do anything. So, as a simple test, he uttered, "Granted."
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His hair raised on end when a masked figure shrouded in black and white veils—flanked by purple trails, dominated his sight. "Granted," it said, bringing along with itself a terrifying pressure.
"…"
What in the name of unholy steam is that!? He didn't remember looking like this in the confluence. Why did people think he dressed like that?
He was speechless. This was going to take a lot of getting used to. The fact that other people's perception of his persona was this…terrifying gave him an awkward feeling.
Is this what they call an echo chamber? he wondered, amused by his own thought, further dragging him down in the chamber.
Okay, let's get back to work. His future self would have to find ways to not cringe at praying and talking to himself.
Now, what if I…
Inside the star of his own prayer, he thought to share his authority with the supplicant, and when he focused hard, something happened.
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He waited for a moment, but no glowing light enveloped him, and he felt no sudden surge of strength. Scratching his head, he wondered, What exactly changed, then?
Exiting out of that star, he momentarily checked his perception to see if any new insights appeared—there was nothing. He tilted his head in confusion before deciding to delve deeper into himself once again.
Deeper than anything else.
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Oh…!? he gasped.
He saw his singularities once again. But they were…different. The smaller 'spiral' was spiral no more; instead, it stretched awkwardly towards the heavier one in a way that didn't make any visual sense.
Nevertheless, that answered his question of what just changed.
For the sake of testing, he first tried to approach the heavier singularity only to be repelled with a promise of excruciating pain. So, he pivoted and grabbed hold of the smaller one.
Warmth washed over him, and so did the binding, but this time was different from last. The singularity that waited on his lips wasn't as insignificant as last time.
He held his palm over his eyes once again and leaned back, chanting, "How many times was Maris rejected in the book called Scion's Love Theorem."
Following the same methods as before, he lulled himself into sleep.
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A wide hall made of graying lines and granular gradients appeared once again. This time, the figure of the man had his arm around the woman as he began monotonically, 'gods woman leah rejected maris exactly as many times as you rejected me at first.'
Surprisingly, his thoughts weren't slurred like last time, and he felt more in control. But it was all still very detached from him. All he could do was think—something he didn't mind.
This is the same room as last time. Even the couple is the same, he analyzed. Which begged the question, Is this Cedric and his wife? Lover? They were sure very close to each other if they read a book like—Scion's Love Theorem—together.
In a bit, the woman responded without a hint of change in expression, emotion, or tone, 'whats a man if he cant take at least seven rejections now i feel like i should have rejected you three more times.'
Well, that was simple. It seemed like having superior singularity when paired with proper information was straight-up busted. He was sure none of this would work without Axiom sharing his authority. Last time, he was ejected before he could even understand what the hell was going on. But now? He was dropped exactly at the moment relevant to his query.
To his surprise, the dream didn't end. Instead, the couple continued to conversate, their sounds unintelligible. They were saying something, but it was all just a mess. Hmm, maybe because I have very little clues and information about Cedric's past?
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Soon, the mass of planes and lines that was the man got up and left the confines of the structured room. Everything became hazy, but he still didn't get expelled. The sight continued, and this time, the woman sat on the chair, holding what looked like a pen in her angular hand as she waved it robotically.
Nevertheless, lines appeared on the paper. Lines that probably combined to form a letter, but most of it was a garbled mess. In the chaos, when he squinted hard, a few words became decipherable.
'must go…sorry…don't look for me please…'
Vern frowned, but the scenery kept moving along. The woman disappeared, and then it all turned momentarily hazy. When it cleared up, the man appeared once again, standing next to the letter.
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This… Vern wasn't able to perceive emotions of any kind from the sight, but he knew. It couldn't have been easy. His vision became hazy again and again as similar scenes flashed past his eyes. Every one of them depicted the man holding a rectangular paper—probably the letter—and one of the random books from the shelf.
One…two…five…ten…fifty. Every one of them was like that until one time, when the man flipped the whole shelf and began stomping on it relentlessly.
Vern watched in silence. If he'd understood it right, then Cedric's lover had left him for some reason, and he'd spent a long time wallowing in sadness before deciding to get rid of objects that reminded him of her.
The scene went on and on and on as the man slowly shredded every page from the books and ripped their spine one by one. For Vern, however, it started to become excruciating to watch. Every second here was taking an immense toll on his mind, and before long, he felt like things would slip out of himself.
Looking at the remaining number of books on the shelf, he realized, I don't think I can last long enough to see what comes next. He would love to know what happened to Cedric after, but not at a cost to himself, and not when there was no guarantee it would be anything of significance.
Biting his lips, he decided to end it then and there.
Instability Inducement.
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He snapped his eyes open as the dim light illuminated the old-looking repository. The wailing of that child echoed in his mind, making it obvious that he was back.
Turning towards the floor clock, he checked it again: Nine minutes. So it was all pretty fast.
However, in that moment, a sense of profound loss hit him. Frowning, he looked into himself. Deep.
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Shit! he cursed, and his heart dropped.
The larger singularity of Axiom, which was already somewhat illusory, had become even more transparent.
Not wasting even a second, he entered the star that represented his prayer to himself and rescinded any and all authority flowing through it.
The moment he did so, the weird circular connection vanished, and inside the deepest recesses of his mind, the awkwardly stretched spiral returned to its regular nebulous self once again.
The larger one, however, remained as illusory as it was. That could only mean one thing, he reasoned while rubbing his forehead, I can't waste Axiom's authority unnecessarily.
Now that he thought about it, it made sense. Axiom's singularity only had so much substance to it. Even though it was 'larger,' it wasn't actually 'dense.' That is to say, not enough people knew of Axiom to allow him to abuse this connection and get away without any losses.
He believed there was probably a certain amount of self-regeneration to one's singularity and that he'll probably recover whatever was lost if more people prayed to him. But how long would that take? He didn't know.
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Hahh, he sighed. This was good and bad. Good because he'd learned so much about his singularities, divination, and whatnot, but bad because he'd wasted it all on a senseless bet.
"Oi, kid!" Cedric called out. "You think I won't notice you've woken up if you stay quiet?" He shook his head, scoffing. "Kids these days. You know there's no backing out of this bet, right? It's fine to admit defeat sometimes."
Vern sat straighter, eager to show the old man his place, "I—" only to shut up the very next instant.
Fuck! he cursed internally. I almost messed up.
What were the odds that he, a first-shade observer, managed to divine something so accurately when he was competing against the singularity of a higher-shade observer like Cedric?
Damn!
Ignoring Cedric's smug smile, he weighed the pros and cons. Revealing it would mean more recognition from the Vigil, but did he really need it? Most of his colleagues and superiors already had a good impression of him. He had no real need to show off.
He'd already gone a bit far by fighting with his all during his duel with Lucian. It would instead be too unnatural if he was somehow good at divination, too. Specially when he had neither the shades in his perception nor the viewpoint required to answer Cedric's trap of a question.
Maybe the man wouldn't tell others if Vern asked him to keep it hush, but what was the point of risking it at all?
Yeah, no.
Also…, he eyed Cedric's face marked with laugh lines, What turned that loving husband to…this bitter, somewhat cowardly yet determined man?
He'd come to believe this was just how Cedric was—a middle-aged man with the mind of a grumpy old man and the reading habits of a teenager. Now, however, he felt like there was more to it.
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Why does he want to get all these books after destroying so many of them himself? Is it related?
As he watched the man, a conjecture formed in his mind, Could it be that Cedric wasn't an Observer back then, and now that he's become a powerful one, he's trying to find her?
If so, does that mean he's reading and collecting all these books not just for entertainment but to gather information for a divination? As in, she read all these books with him, and now, by finding them again, he was hoping to find her?
That was…sweet.
Vern laid back on the sofa, letting his outstretched hand fall down as he calmed his thoughts and sighed, "You set me up, old man. It's too damn hard."
It was better this way. Nobody had to know. No old wounds had to be reopened.
"Ohohohoho," Cedric's laugh, rich with self-satisfaction, grated on his nerves as the man rocked on his chair. "That's what I thought. Can't handle a simple challenge, eh? Don't feel too bad, kid. Not everyone can be as sharp as I am."
I must've been hit on the head to have felt bad for you.
Cedric leaned in closer, his shit-eating grin widening. "Now, since you lost fair and square, you know what that means?" He turned and scribbled a list so long Vern wasn't even sure his friend could find the items in it. "Fetch me the next set of books. Hop to it, boy!"
A part of him felt like shouting the truth and making fun of him for being rejected a full seven times, but he kept his impulse in check as he smiled and spoke with gritted teeth, "Sure thing, Cedric. I'll get right on it."
"Hehehe. Come back to me in a tenday. Maybe I'll feel more generous next time."
Vern stood up and snatched the list from his hand as he cursed, "May you always step in a puddle right after putting on fresh socks and then be forced to go through the whole day with the slightly damp pair."
Cedric's face turned aghast, and he scribbled something furiously on his book. The number seven percent appeared as a response to his absurd query, which he crossed out promptly and wrote zero in its stead. Chuckling, he turned the book towards Vern and barked back, "Heh, your petty curses won't work on me, kid. I'm too lucky for that."
This old fart. Vern grumbled and sat down, not keen on giving the codger any more satisfaction. How could someone merely in his forties be this grumpy? He knew hundreds of middle-aged men, but not one of them acted as old as this coot.
Silently, minutes passed as both the gatekeepers lost themselves in their musings.
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The lamp-shaped elevator came to a screeching halt outside with a crrankk. "Ah, fuck!" resounded a bored voice from outside, "Why do I have to do this again?"