For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Grey One was in control of its own mind once more, if not at peace.

Join minds...yes.

Grey was flattered, honestly. It was fairly sure David Silva could've reached out and touched the minds of creation's inhabitants all by himself. That he could've drawn power from the aether, or enhanced his own, if he'd so wished. Since he had instead asked for help, Grey found itself wondering why.

It had time for this. It wasn't like it flowed, in one's mindscape. It had brushed minds with Silva, but then the strigoi had retreated, watching rather than speaking, leaving it alone with the young witch. Sofia.

The strigoi's mind had left the Ser Gris metaphorically blinking away the equivalent of afterimages. It had been so strong, so hurt...

Grey focused. It knew wavering, being distracted, would be disastrous now. Grey wasn't precognitive. It didn't need to be.

Instinct was enough.

So. One thing at a time. The strigoi's request...had he made enemies? Was he hated? Grey wasn't that esteemed itself, on Earth or among its people. Had David mistook it for some sort of potentate?

No. Most likely...it was a combination of what it suspected. Perhaps David did have the power to reach out across creation, but believed he lacked the skill. Perhaps he also thought Grey's presence would lend some weight to whatever he wanted to attempt, or simply wanted an ally at his side.

It nodded to itself. It could help him, of course. Helping a hurt mind was never going to be beyond its reach, if Grey could help it.

Then, the upcoming discussion with Sofia. Their belated first meeting; what had happened the last time could not honestly be called that. As their landscapes were still merging, rotating around each other like a binary star, Grey pondered it.

Anger surged through its mind. Was the strigoi letting it to do its dirty work, just because it hadn't pushed him away? What did he think it was, his servant?

Grey brought itself back under control, pressing its hand to its chest and gasping, more out of habit than need. It didn't need air, either here or in reality, but humans still found it unsettling, sometimes, when it didn't breathe. What had that been? Grey's hold on its emotions was supposed to be better than...that.

For a moment, it argued to itself that it had been that bizarre creature's lingering influence, the chronokine's. A part of it wanted to believe that. That its temper had flared for reasons beyond its control. The rest of its mind quickly rose against it.

Behind Grey, a white expanse wavered, like a Terran seaship's sail in the wind. Its emotions were preventing the mindscape from forming. Grey envisioned a white sky meeting a milky ocean on the horizon, then being filled with life, like a canvas being painted.

No. Getting mad at the strigoi was useless, not to mention petty. Grey had only caught glimpses of David's suffering, but they had broken its heart. He needed help, deserved its sympathy, not its rage.

That was when the self-criticism came in.

Was it blaming its outburst on the faceless monster? That was childish at best, cowardly at worst. Not to mention, it cast doubt on the Zhayvin, who had cured it, restoring its body to its natural form after it had been twisted into that of a beast.

Besides, it shouldn't have lost its cool in the first place. So what if David expected it to talk to Sofia? The poor man was reeling from great losses, and getting the child to open up had already been requested of Grey, before it had all gone wrong.

Maybe David had bad history with the witch. Or was shy. Had that been why it had called on Grey?

The Ser Gris shifted its footing, brow wrinkling slightly as it realised something. Called on it...Grey remembered being placed in a subspace pocket by the Zhayvin's Shaper, as if it were a wrapped gift. A little joke, to lighten its people's moods before they were reunited.

But...it had been snatched away. The pocket reality had cut off Grey from the universe, preventing it from sensing and being sensed. Just as it had been opened, something had grabbed Grey, then flung it out of its metaphysical grip and across the cosmos. It had happened so fast, it had only realised it was elsewhere when it had ended up face to face with David.

The identity and motives of its kidnapper could be ascertained later. Now, it had to help Sofia, and maybe David, through her.

Why had the chronokinetic twisted it? Merely for its own amusement? Grey remembered a whimsical being, as powerful as it was mercurial. It spoke, and the past changed to suit the present it wanted.

Grey sniffed. Was there a clue there? Wordplay? Did it see the world as a reward it deserved? Usually, it was grateful it had learned several human languages because the process and results had brought it closer to its adopted people, but maybe it could put that to use in another way.

Later. Wondering about riddles and...puns, would help no one now.

It had to focus on the facts. Sofia had also been there, in deep space. In David's arms, actually. And she hadn't been dismayed to see him, if Grey's senses were anything to go by.

Why had the chronokine come after the girl in her cell? To amuse itself? It was as likely as anything, when it came to a being Grey had almost failed to perceive, much less read.

Maybe the faceless thing had taken Sofia with it, before leaving her stranded in the void. Or David had saved her from it.

Or...she hadn't been left there randomly. Had its tormentor - her kidnapper? - been playing a longer game than avoiding its boredom? Was it still?

Grey smiled humourlessly. It supposed it would learn soon, unless the monster had twisted the child, too.

There was also the chance whoever or whatever had stolen Grey away had brought Sofia here, but that purpose was even harder to divine. If it was even a different being than the laughing, faceless one.

As Sofia came into its mind's eye's view, Grey admonished itself. Had it really become such a vain coward it blamed others for its shortcoming and sneered down at a man the world had worn away at?

No. Much as it would've liked to avoid responsibility, it had let its emotions get the better of it. Ordinarily, that would've been no problem: the members of the Multitude of Minds were, if anything, sometimes condemned for being too detached (Grey preferred "harmonious". It was a more elegant and fitting term for the state of balance between reason and passion).

At this moment, however...

Grey knew the cause, the true reason. Its ego had been, was, bruised. Not just at having its body and - much worse - its mind perverted, but at being overpowered so easily. At being stolen away in what should have been a moment of triumph and the beginning of negotiation, and end up in the depths of the void, before being asked to resume its failed task.

Grey looked disapprovingly down at its three-toed feat. It had thought it had led temper tantrum behind ten, twenty million years ago. Oh, well...

The alien stood up straighter, smoothing down its features and trying to smile warmly, then chuckled at itself. Adopting human mannerisms was all well and good for not creeping people out (not always, though - uncanny valley was still a thing, despite all the decades of coexistence with humanlike paranormal beings. Or was it because of that?), but their faces were much more expressive than its, not to mention more complex.

Grey had no eyebrow or eyelids. Trying to show emotion with its eyes usually required a little creative self-applied telekinesis. Its face was flat, with no nose and a small, thin line of a mouth. It had no ears, either, which was a shame. Grey had once seen a human, as bald as it and dressed in an ill-fitting costume, wiggle his ears, and thought it might amuse Sofia enough for her to calm down and listen to it.

Finally, Sofia's mindscape found the edge of Grey's, the witch's mental avatar sitting in the middle of a grey-white waste.

Behind Grey, its mindscape became the surface of its homeworld. A creased expanse between solid and liquid, it resembled nothing more than its skin. The land undulated between a deep purple sky, filled by clusters of gently-twinkling stars.

Grey walked to the border between their mindscapes, and was relieved when, after a brief moment of befuddlement, Sofia allowed it in. Whether she had recognised it, or simply sensed its benign intent (Grey hoped for both, but would've been more satisfied with the latter. It would've meant Sofia's telepathy had improved enough communication would be both faster and more complex), the Ser Gris was content with the fact she didn't see it as an enemy.

This welcome, however, most importantly meant that the child was still thinking clearly. Grey was impressed by her strong will, considering the tides of trauma that lapped up past its ankles as it walked closer, but more moved by the fact Sofia could still sense kindness and accept help, after everything she must've been through.

In her mindscape, Sofia resembled her real self, except in terms of clothing: rather than the ragged prison uniform she was wearing in reality, she was dressed in deep purple, black-trimmed robes, a small, pointy hat laying on its side next to her. Grey recognised the ensemble as the archetypal witch outfit, from popular culture rather than experience. It had never met a mage that dressed like that.

Sofia sat hugging her bony knees to her chest, once-piercing green eyes now dull and hooded. Because they had once shone with magic?

No, Grey shook its head. She didn't look this...this dead inside when I last saw her. But then, that had been before the chronokine had caught her in its wiles. Who knew what had happened?

No matter, Grey thought fiercely, pulling its resolve around itself. In this world of thought, that manifested as a mantle, actually drawn tight around its body. A cloak of chains...because it was bound to help the witch, not just for having given its word, but because it could not let a young telepath suffer the ravages wreaked by her uncontrolled power? Because it could not leave a child to her pain, not when so many monsters seemed intent on drawing it out?

A chain was only ever as strong as its weakest link. Grey had no associates or allies in this...endeavour. Not yet. Sofia might become one, if it did not fail, causing her to disappear into herself or break down.

A small smile stole across the Ser Gris' face. Its subconscious could conjure charming metaphors, sometimes, even if they were rather basic.

The smile faded as something else, also born from its mind's depths, stumbled into view from the corner of its eye.

Grey knew most people disliked facing their doubts, especially because they were not always things one could simply confront once and be done with. However, it had thought it was made of sterner stuff. That...it had no doubts.

There's that arrogance again...it thought, watching its doubts stagger towards it - no. Between it and Sofia?

Most people also thought they'd do much better facing challenges than they did in reality, but Grey had thought itself better than that. It distractedly wondered whether it needed to become humbler, or more cautious.

Ah, well. There would be time for that later. It had a child to help.

Grey's doubts resembled it, as seen in a shattered mirror. Or perhaps one of those funhouse mirrors that switched the observer's shape. Grey found the concept bizarre, but some Terrans considered it hilarious.

It supposed people who couldn't shapeshift had to take their amusements where they could.

Grey's doubts did not possess the ash-grey skin of a Ser Gris, but a thicker, leathery hide so dark it was almost black. Its back was hunched and ridged, bumps pushing out against the skin as if there was a spine under it rather than the boneless pulp Grey was filled with. Its hands and feet had three fingers and toes, just like its own, but they were topped with hooked claws where Grey lacked even fingernails.

The back of the creature's skull protruded, looking ready to burst, and the skin disappeared halfway through, leaving a patch of what looked like polished black bone, or crystal.

Grey frowned. Its subconscious going from prosaic to grotesque was one of the many unwelcome surprises in its life. Why had it constructed this ugly simulacrum of itself, rather than the very object of its doubts? It seemed to be going for blunt anyway. To have been.

The meaning of gesture - a warning? A threat? - seemed to be that Grey's doubts would prevent it from helping Sofia, maybe even reaching her in the first place.

Setting its jaw, Grey strode forward, and the creature, which had been looking in Sofia's direction, ponderous head bobbing up and down, twisted around to face it.

Its head was actually the first to move, turning around on a neck that looked far too slim to support its burden. The body followed, claws twitching, and Grey looked at it challengingly, while its mind probed at the creature's.

Predictably, it didn't think, as such. It only knew the things that had made Grey think and rethink every action, both before and after doing it. If normal minds were songs, the creature's was a recording. On loop.

The doubts leered at Grey, thick lips pulling back from flat teeth. Where were all these features coming from? Grey had never even seen teeth in person before coming to...Earth...

Ah. Had it become more doubtful by living among humans? Maybe it had. But it did not regret one moment. The Terrans, with their volatile, flashing minds, had taught it how to see existence in a myriad new ways.

'You do not want to stop me,' Grey began, trying to step forward, then retreating from a claw swipe halfway through. If its suspicions were right, being harmed by the thing would cause it to become overwhelmed by uncertainty, and that would be unacceptable. 'You don't, can't want anything. Can you? It's not even instinct, or programmi-'

A colourless, spherical shield of telekinetic force appeared around it. The doppelganger's claws slowly pushed through it, with a sound like shrieking metal, and Grey frowned.

In hindsight, talking to a creature that couldn't think for itself had been pointless. Too much like the gloating of villains in Terran media, which usually occurred before they died.

Dangerous...

Almost as much as standing still while said creature was trying to...what? Kill it? Its mind, at least?

Was the replica malevolent? Or was this simply the only thing it could do - a more literal than usual process of being consumed by doubt?

In any case, it clearly could not be stalled, waited out. Trying to stand its ground against the doubts would lead to Grey's grisly mental demise, and it doubted the shell of its body would fare much better, left adrift in the void.

Time to go on the offensive, then.

Grey crouched forward, arms raised and hands tense. Its small, slight body made the wrestling stance look absurd, but in grappling with one's fears, such metaphors helped.

Before its dark reflection leapt at it, Grey caught a fleeting glimpse of Sofia: her attention had shifted, or rather, returned. Whatever she had been thinking of, her attention was now focused on their duel.

Possible reasons flashed through Grey's mind, its surroundings showing brief images, like fractions of a film projected on thin air: Sofia, not stepping in because she was afraid, too broken. Because she didn't know who to side with. Because she didn't care, and was waiting for either the Ser Gris or its doubts to become weak enough that her assistance would result in victory...or wait even longer, fingers interlaced patiently, before killing the victor and taking over Grey's body.

Grey gasped in outrage at the idea as its doubts tried to seized it in a bearhug. They hit the ground, rolling as they thrashed, Grey on top one moment, the creature the next.

No. The images, they had been centred around its doppelgangers, if they hadn't emanated from it. Of course it was trying to convince Grey there was no good outcome possible. That was the reason of its existence.

'You doubt,' it began in a voice that, entirely at odds with its warped appearance, was perfectly normal, almost pleasant. It sounded like that of the Ser Gris, on the occasions it chose to communicate verbally. 'You haven't even had time to be afraid you'll fail, have you? You're too busy thinking how your little witch will end you herself-'

'Quiet,' Grey snarled, trying to sound fierce rather than rattled. Its headbutt knocked the doubts' head back, allowing it to throw the being off. 'Sofia only wanted to stop her parents from arguing, before her magic took over. Her method was regrettable, yes -'

'Is that what you think?' it asked, lip curling but eyes pitying. 'You think a child whose first choice to end conflict is to rape minds deserves...salvation?'

'She didn't have a choice before her magic awakened.' "You stubborn moron" caught in its throat. Insulting itself, an aspect of itelf, would most likely feed the creature rather than accomplish anything useful. "You know that."

What could an isolated girl like Sofia had done, except keep her magic under control until she could be properly trained? That would've been for the best, yes, but, just because they lived in the best of all possible worlds, as said once by Whahyr the Curt and unknowingly echoed by the human Leibniz, it did not mean their universe was kind.

Just better than the others.

'Maybe. Maybe. You would like to think so, wouldn't you, Orhygr?' the doppelganger asked. 'That you're the only one who can save this poor lost lamb here?' It took a taunting step closer. 'Will it distract you from how sorry you feel for yourself? Not like it's going to make you forget.'

'You understand nothing.'

'Don't I?' it asked softly. 'I am you, "Grey One". Remember your reaction, when you heard the moniker? You thought the humans were simply describing your appearance; or rather, you convinced yourself they weren't labelling you as the first of a new species. Even their animals have names, you thought.'

Grey shrugged uncomfortably. 'I like the nickname. Simple, to the point. It's not like I hid my name from them.' At least I have one.

'Yes, you just love being numbered like furniture. Gone native - interesting way to spell mad, don't you think?'

Its appearance changed, or it reshaped the mindscape around itself, covering itself with the images. Grey, standing next to an experimental Ser Gris craft. Still possessed of the saucer-like shape it would make popular among humans after its crash, the silver vessel housed the Multitude of Minds' first aetheric engine. Grey, in a similarly-silver spacesuit, stood next to it, nervously shaking hands, or limbs, with the engineers.

'What do you feel guiltier for, I wonder....volunteering as an aethernaut while your children were young, or never making it back to them?'

'Do not lie,' Grey spat. 'You do not "wonder". You lack the imagination, and know the answer besides.'

'Quite,' the creature agreed. 'But you're still so shaken up, Grey. Do the humans really accept you? It's not like you can read their minds most of the time, after all. That would be an invasion of privacy. But what do they have to hide, anyway? So many of them announce the most atrocious deeds boldly, but even the meekest of them want to keep their thoughts hidden?'

'Mankind will find its own path,' Grey said, attention only half-focused on its adversary. If it could just slip around it, get to Sofia, maybe together, they could just...

Dammit. Just what? Who knew if the girl could fight at all, much less if she wanted to, let alone at its side? Why did it keep looking for the easy way out?

'You're afraid to commit,' its reflection remarked, as if reading its thoughts. And maybe it was. Once, Grey would've scoffed at the idea of someone telepathically scanning it without its notice, but it had hardly been at its best lately. 'After all, how could you have had children right before running away? Being able to become a parent is supposed to be proof of one's maturity, of inner peace. But you...you, the aethernaut...' It shook its head, sniggering. 'So bored with your life, not that you'd have called it that. So many nights spent mediating, falling in and out of trances, cut off from everyone else...all so you could spawn. And for what? Because you were frustrated your existence hadn't left a mark on the cosmos, in over twenty-seven million years of your adopted world.'

It spread its arms, face a caricature of panic. 'Quick! I must have children, I must run away, travel, anything.' It whimpered the last word, lower lip sticking out childishly. 'W-What if I'm forgotten, like e-every other lifeform that doesn't enjoy immortality, or world-shattering power, or a permanent bond with a myriad of loving minds?'

'I was spoiled,' Grey admitted. 'And it took isolation for me to realise that. I will make amends home, when I get there.'

'If.'

It just couldn't help itself. 'You wish,' Grey smirked, wishing it had knuckles to crack in the manner of swaggering humans. Its foe seemed unimpressed. 'And I know what you're going to try. Do you know how?'

'You must've read my mind...' it whispered, affecting a befuddled expression.

Hilarious. 'You're going to create simulacra of my heirs, to taunt me. Hurt me. Or turn into Zlahi or Xhahal yourself. Maybe both. Hmm? Some grotesque amalgam, to disgust me, make my resolve waver?'

'Why would I want to do that?' it asked, sounding genuinely confused. Its tone then became cold. 'After all, you seem set on helping the little mind-rapist.'

'So, what, you're not going to waste your time?' As if it had anywhere to be, anything to do...still, the idea that it would simply give up was even harder to swallow. Its existence and purpose were simple, yes, but that didn't mean it couldn't try to trick Grey. Make the Ser Gris lower its guard.

It shrugged, saying nothing, and shuffled out of Grey's way. The alien started forward, keeping an eye on its doppelganger until it walked out of sight. Then, when a black blur dashed at Grey, the Ser Gris blasted it with a pulse of psychic force, more out of reflex than anything. It had almost escaped it, through sheer speed.

The pulse never connected.

Grey's head slowly swivelled, body following. Sofia was now sitting cross-legged, waving a smoking hand back and forth as her dull eyes traced the doppelganger's scattering remains.

'You were taking too long,' she answered Grey's unspoken question. 'Talking too much.'

Grey's head dipped slightly in gratitude. 'Thank you, Sofia. I might have been able to defeat it, but it would've taken even longer than our boring discussion.' It smiled. She didn't return it, to its slight dismay. 'I'm sorry we didn't get to speak last time we met, but that monster...' it shook its head. 'I am here to help you.'

'With?' Her voice was flat, with no inflection. It sounded like a tired hag's, rather than a young girl's.

'Would I be wrong to assume the Strangeguard didn't let you exercise your power? Before you were...kidnapped?' Grey tried. The first question was more of a test, but not for her. After its assistance had been requested, the Russians had assured it that Sofia's power had been restrained immediately, following incarceration. It wanted to know if they'd tried to use it through her.

Or done worse. Grey firmly believed the only thing Sofia needed was a teacher to guide her through the life of a controller of minds and objects. And if that life had to begin with public service, to make up for the tragedy Sofia's first use of magic had been, Grey was quite happy to help her.

It didn't have much else to occupy its time with. Oh, yes, there were the requests for its power, or its talent at easing troubled minds - therapy, they called it on Earth - but those rarely lasted long. And waiting for its fellows to come for it could get fairly dull, at times. Sure, there were many people or factions that could've sent it straight to the Multitude, but...

It wasn't that Grey didn't trust them. More that it didn't want to be perceived as contaminated and shunned upon its return. Besides, mingling with Earth's people meant forming bonds, participating in stories it could share, so others could relive them by reading its thoughts.

'Nah,' Sofia spoke, standing up. She tried to stick her hands in her pockets, realised her robes had none, then created a couple, pouting in annoyance. Grey chuckled softly, bending to take her witch's hat and give it to her. 'They still didn't know what to do with me, when that jerk...' She shuddered. 'S-Stole m-me.'

'What did it do to you?' Grey asked, trying to keep its voice calm, rather than angry or alarmed. Had its children ever been this scared in its absence? Void...

Sofia crossed her arms, then hugged herself, still shaking slightly, and glared at Grey, as if it had scared her. Raising both hands, the alien stepped back.

'I don't wanna talk about it,' she snapped, then pointed at the black gunk spattering the ground of the mindscape. 'I'll make you leave, too. Shut up.'

Grey was more surprised she wasn't crying than curious, but it didn't insist. Whatever had shaken someone like Sofia...must have been quite similar to the strange alterations the chronokine had put it through, if not worse. It would coax the answer out of her, if need be, later. They might be necessary.

'Sorry,' Grey said, then placed a hand on its chest. 'It hurt me, too, you know. Because it found it funny. Made me act like a dog-'

Grey broke off as Sofia turned her head, placing a hand over her mouth to try and contain the vomit that rushed from her mouth. Grey rushed to her side, uncaring of her anger, and turned her so it could see what was wrong. The alien pulled her hand aside, and the flow stopped after a few seconds. Grey absentmindedly brushed filth off its chest as Sofia dry-heaved, blood trailing from cracked lips with every retch.

Grey inwardly cursed. Had she hurt herself, somehow?

But that was only the beginning.

Grey watched in morbid fascination as what seemed to be the remains of a dog were slowly spat out by Sofia, and quickly concluded it was only possible due to the fact they were in a mindscape: not only didn't her stomach and neck swell as she spat, but the animal was larger than her.

'Gonna k-kill that fat jerk,' she murmured, wiping her lips with the back of one hand as she stared at the corpse parts. The dog's head turned in place to look at Sofia, staring up at her in silent condemnation.

Grey opened its mouth, then held a hand to a cheek smarting from a slap. 'Told ya to s-shaddup!' Sofia screamed into its face, tears swimming in her eyes. 'The g-grey guy m-made me...t-too...'

'The kidnapper?' Grey whispered, but Sofia just her back on both it and the dog, huffing. 'I'm sorry. I wouldn't have brought it up if I'd known. I promise.'

Sofia didn't look at it, but her stance loosened. 'You didn't say "forgive me",' she finally said in a small voice.

'Oh,' Grey said, unsure. 'Should I have?'

She snorted. 'Just, lotsa adults do. When they're mean. They don't say they're sorry, don't even try to lie. They just ask you to forgive 'em, like they can ask things for you without even...'

Grey let the silence stretch for a few moments after she trailed off, before breaking the ice. 'Want to know a secret about adults, Sofia?'

'Whaddya know? You're an alien.' Then, almost accusingly, she added, 'I watched your cartoons.'

'Ah,' Grey rubbed the back of its head with a bashful grin. 'Those. Did you like them?' In the fifties, shortly after the Martian invasion, Grey had sold the right to its likeness for use in essentially, propaganda. Well-meaning, but still. The cartoons consisted of a simplified version of it, tagging along a crew of colourful misfits as they explored "the final frontier" (that parlance had quickly fallen out of fashion as alternate realms had been discovered), meeting strange aliens and helping them confront their problems and accept themselves. Grey had voiced its animated counterpart. Mankind had needed all the proof not all aliens were like the Martians. It had been new at the time, and the Zhayvin Collective had only come into the public eye recently, so...

Sofia's smile barely touched the corners of her mouth, but it was there. Small victories... 'Yeah,' she said. 'I like it when people are friends, even if it's make-believe.' She rubbed one of her arms, and Grey walked forward to stand next to her. When it put a hand on her shoulder, she didn't slap it off or flinch away. 'I liked Captain Quirk. He was funny. How didja find a new way for him to be weird every episode?'

'Heh. Well, I wasn't on the writing team. I just read the scripts and said the lines.' The team had been really creative, though. Especially Gene. Grey bet he hadn't expected the show he'd made after leaving, or its sequels, to become popular among the reptilians.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

They stood quietly for what felt like forever, and might as well have been, in the timeless mindscape. Grey casually checked out their surroundings. At first, it had thought the wasteland that was Sofia's mindscape represented her Siberian home, but now that it looked closer, without its doubts to distract it - they had been reduced to thought processes, no longer a malevolent doppelagnger - Grey saw that it didn't resemble any place on Earth it had ever seen.

What it had mistaken for dirty snow was closer in smell and texture to dust, a thick layer that almost reached its knees and passed Sofia's, who was slightly shorter than it.

At one point, Sofia began walking forward, not waiting to see if Grey followed. The alien did, quickly noticing Sofia's mindscape wasn't changing, or, at least, that there weren't any landmarks. The odd dust slid around Grey like water, but clung to the witch and her clothes, until the small purple robes became ashen. Sofia coughed into her fist, delicately at first, then deeply, until the Ser Gris feared she was going to vomit again, or worse. But she waved it off with one hand, and the dust with the other. Grey saw she was crying now, tears carving tunnels through the grime on her face. Something told it the tears had little to do with the dust stinging her eyes.

'What do you want, really?' she asked suspiciously upon finally calming down. Her voice sounded much older than she was - her idea of how a witch sounded, maybe?

Grey's grin became smaller, but lost none of its warmth. 'When you first saw me, I was coming to counsel you, then help you train your power. It's horrible, what your magic made you do. I can help you make sure it never happens again.'

Sofia's eyes were steady as she studied it. 'Some of the Strangeguards said the same thing. They want me to go make up with the people I...I was bad to.'

'And you don't want to?' Grey asked, and watched her shoulders rise and fall. Her dirty face remained impassive, but a thread of emotion caught the alien's attention. 'Ah. You are ashamed?' Was she...blushing? That was actually somewhat endearing, but Grey wasn't going to mention it. It would've been patronising.

'See, this is how I can tell you are a kind girl, Sofia. A bad girl would've never felt sorry for...being mean to those people. But I'm sure you wouldn't have controlled them if it had been up to you. Would you have?'

Sofia shook her head fiercely, lips thinning. Her face screwed up in distaste as she swallowed some dust. 'I just wanted to make mommy and daddy quiet. They were making my head hurt. It wasn't like they didn't tell me to shut up all the time.' She kicked at nothing, raising a grey cloud. 'And - and! They wanted to be friends too, I know, they just couldn't. Too stubborn. Proud.' She spat a grey glob. 'Adults are dumb.'

'That's the secret I wanted to tell you earlier.' Grey rubbed her back. 'I know you see all these grown-ups putzing around, being loud and bossy and always making you do what they want, never letting you do what you want. They act like they know everything, don't they? The jerks.'

'Daddy sure thinks he does,' Sofia muttered darkly. Then, in a smaller voice, she added. 'They know stuff I don't, but I'll learn.'

'That's right. And you'll never stop learning, Sofia. You know why? Because none of them know what they're doing, trust me. There's never a point in life when you're suddenly prepared, no matter how sure others appear. And it's not limited to Earth, either. Back home, I'm an adult, and I don't know what I'm doing either.'

Sofia giggled at its self-deprecating scowl, then laid her head on its chest. 'You talk a lot too,' she said. 'But you're nice. Grey?'

'Yes?'

'Do you just wanna help 'cause you're nice?' She frowned in concentration. 'Ugh. I can't read your mind. Um, you can just tell me they're paying you, or you're doing it cuz you've got nothing else to do. Or, or you wanna find out what makes me tick.'

'I am curious, yes,' it confessed. 'And not busy, but that's not the reason I'm doing this. I know what it's like for minds to run wild, without conscience to guide them. It would be a shame to see you punished for your gift, Sofia.'

She was nodding along, then suddenly stopped. 'You feel it too, don'cha?'

'Yes,' Grey answered. The sensation of it, and everything it knew, teetering on the brink of oblivion. Grey suspected it was similar to how Terran animals senses natural disasters before their arrival, because it sure wasn't precognitive. 'But, Sofia, I don't want to help you to save my own skin.' It was living for its children at this point, and its people. 'That would be terrible. I truly-'

'Got it,' she snapped, adjusting her hat as she glared up at it. 'I'm not slow. Geez. I'm just...nnngh...I don't know how we can stop what's coming, but I know we do. It's makin' me feel weird.' Then, out of the blue, lips wobbling, she added. 'I want David.'

'Hmm?' Grey was taken aback. 'David Silva?'

'No, David with the slingshot who killed the Goliath,' she grumbled acidly. 'Yeah. He's like daddy used to be.'

The alien awkwardly shifted its footing at that. 'He...David killed your parents, Sofia. He-'

'I know. He told me. Showed me his memories. They'd started praying to this big bad god who wants to enslave everyone.'

'Correct...' it said, somewhat surprised by how she was taking it in stride. 'You...are comfortable with him? Despite...?'

'So?' she asked defensively. 'Why should I be scared. He was nice to me when he had no reason to. It's the fat strigoi who's bad. Hate him.'

Grey grabbed one of her hands, squeezing gently. 'Sofia, I was just asking in case you want David to come here. He can do this too, you know. I can ask him.'

'Oh.' Her eyes widened. 'Y-Yeah, but, but not yet!' She smoothed down her robes. 'Um, I think he thinks we should...ah...'

'I understand,' Grey assured her. 'Don't worry. I'm sure David believes in you! Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked for your help, right?'

Sofia nodded weakly, looking down. She was ashamed again, Grey guessed. 'I wanna ask you sumthin'.'

'Of course! That is why I'm here, Sofia.'

'Is it...am I bad cuz I'm more sad David ain't here than 'cause mommy and daddy are g-gone?' she asked, eyes reddening as tears flowed again, washing away the dust on her face.

Grey smiled softly, wrapping its arms around her. 'That is a very complicated question, Sofia. There is nothing wrong with wanting David to be here, don't worry. And, as you said, you do miss them. Even if they weren't the best parents.' It laughed dryly. 'Not that I'm one to talk. My children were younger than you when I left.'

'You're a...' she boggled at it, saw no signs of gender, and pursed her lips. 'You have kids?'

'Oh, yes,' Grey replied wistfully. 'I love them, but I was scared. That they'd have a good for nothing parent, and be ashamed. I tried to do something great, to impress them.' And everyone else. 'But if I'd known I'd be stranded and leave them behind, I'd have never left.'

Sofia returned its hug, arms painfully tight around it. She cried freely, but her sobs were quiet, only marked by the shaking on her shoulders. Grey tousled her hair then, unsure, kissed her forehead. The human gesture seemed to alarm rather than calm her down, but Grey sighed in relief when it felt Sofia's mind begin clearing, the dust falling away from her, rising from the ground and disappearing from the sky.

They were now standing where Sofia's village had been, blinding white snow crunching under Grey's bare feet and Sofia's soft boots. The horizon reached the foot of a mountain, while an evergreen forest stretched across the land a few dozen metres from them. Half of the sky was blue, clear and crystal and filled with clouds as white as the snow, a yellow sun shining cheerfully in the middle, bright but not blinding. The other half was a dark, velvety blue, sprinkled with stars and arches of blue-green light.

Sofia grinned up at the sun, which returned the gesture with a broad, buck-toothed grin and a wink. She looked around herself, rubbing her gloved hands, cheeks glowing red from the brisk cold. A few metres away from her, the dismembered dog Grey had seen earlier was alive again, panting and wagging its tail.

Sofia's smile soured at the sight, but she made no move towards the dog, which likewise stood still.

In the distance, Grey could hear people laughing, singing, joking. A few were haggling over something, but not arguing. None of the voices was raised, or harsh, and the alien thought this must be Sofia's dream. How she wanted the world to be...or how to remember it.

It was beautiful. Idealistic, maybe, even simple - a child's vision of the world, as exemplified by the cartoonish sun. But Grey, of all people, knew that just because something was innocent, it didn't mean it was worthless. It had just told Sofia that, after all.

The Ser Gris was surprised Sofia could still imagine, want such things, without the bleak corners of her mind causing them to fall apart. She was strong in far more ways than magically.

'Let me show you where your path could lead, Sofia, if you have no one to lean on. Where my people's path almost did.' Grey flicked its fingers at the sky - a theatrical gesture, performed for Sofia's amusement rather than out of any need -, manipulating the fabric of the mindscape to form images of the Multitude of Minds' past.

'You see, Sofia,' Grey began in what some had told it was its storyteller voice, but which it most often associated with the cartoon character based on it. 'My people once acted the way your magic made you act, but we were worse than you. Not only did we make beings to torment, we did it all of our own volition.'

In the sky, four Seres Grises appeared. They resembled Grey in the way Neanderthals resembled modern humans, with shorter, thicker limbs and protruding brows. And yet, so small they were that their long-fingered hands trailed across the ground. They switched from two to four legs as needed as they walked their world's wastes.

'We-'

'Don't you have a name?' Sofia asked, eyes on the alien's ancestors. 'You're just saying "we".'

Ah. She must not have seen the documentaries it had been invited to narrate. Short on facts and long on folk stories - it hadn't wanted to establish any expectations for the Multitude before a proper first contact -, but still, the yarns were interspersed with kernels of truth.

'In our language, we call ourselves "the folk", but the closest equivalent in Russian would be "grey beings" or "grey people".' Grey gestured at itself. 'Everything on our homeworld was grey by the time we started speaking, so the "grey" in our name was implied.' It understood why Sofia hadn't been interested. Its shows tended to run the gamut between dry recollection and transparent nonsense.

'We scattered across the world - not a charming place, if you ask me. Its name would roughly translate as "the bleakness", and we weren't hyperbolic when we came up with it -, families forming clans, then tribes,' it continued. 'Our psi was weak at this time, telepathy and telekinesis limited to line of sight. Such limits did little to prevent warfare.'

'Over?'

Grey folded its arms as its ancestors began to bash in and burn each other's brains in the sky. 'The usual. Because other tribes had different traditions, prayed to different ancestors or spirits. Because we needed land and resources, but in the rare cases there was enough for everyone, pride and paranoia got in the way. This was before we evolved beyond the need for sustenance.'

The images changed, the ancient Seres Grises taking on new forms, none like the others. 'Eventually, a handful of tribes discovered agriculture and formed a coalition. They drove the hunter-gatherers to the brink of extinction, and beyond it, when they didn't bend the knee. That was when we started shaping our evolution.'

Eugenics wasn't something Grey would've usually brought up to a child, but Sofia needed to understand the full picture, and her will was strong. Stronger than the alien's, maybe, in its opinion. 'The sick and infirm were not allowed to spawn anymore, so their genes did not pass on. When they became recalcitrant, they were sterilised - for lack of a better term; they could no longer spawn descendants from their flesh -, or executed. Those who possessed good genes but "wrong" minds, those who underminded authority through dissent or crime? They were also removed from the gene pool, or brainwashed, if deemed too valuable. Eventually, we started removing and replicating genetic material, so even that passed.'

Grey rubbed its forehead. 'At first, the good traits appeared by themselves, but they were quickly improved by science, physical and psychic alike. Our leaders began choosing people's roles in society, with themselves at the top, of course.'

Sofia made a rude gesture Grey had never seen before at the sky, mumbling something about her parents.

'So, warriors were made stronger and braver, workers - a broad term for everyone who neither fought nor led - more versatile and docile, and leaders more confident and charismatic.'

The image zoomed out, showing the alien's grey homeworld, spinning around its pale sun. 'With little opposition from megafauna, we took over our world, improving ourselves all the while. Then, we began colonising other planets, but our star cluster was uninhabited, and we were growing restless.'

The laboratories of old Ser Gris fleshcrafters appeared, vats and tubes filled with writhing, shrieking protoplasm. 'We were not united in thought, in those days. It was considered taboo for a leader to rub minds with a commoner or soldier, and the other castes weren't allowed to read each other's minds either. What if they started thinking the wrong things?' Grey's eyeroll was barely perceptible.

'And because of this, this lack of understanding, there was disharmony, and discontent. Was this the wonder of space exploration? What were we even looking for? More rocks to turn into copies of our world? The lower castes revolted, demanding change. The workers did not want to build spaceships anymore, and the warriors were tired of being ordered to crack down on them whenever they rioted, instead of facing real enemies. Our leaders, scared of losing their workforce and their lives at their warrior's hands, complied. Grudgingly. So, instead of forcing their own kind to serve, they made new beings, meant to be born, live and die in slavery.'

A Sertyan floated above a tiled floor, upper half swaying drunkenly. A Dulumian spread over a wall, searching for moisture, looking like purple moss spotted with glowing blue.

'The aliens you see, today honoured peers of the Multitude of Minds, were originally created to be tools. Taken from vegetal, respectively fungal stock and altered, until rapidly-growing intelligence blossomed, no pun intended, within them. The Sertyans,' one of the tree-like beings hovered over a junction in a Ser Gris city as the grey aliens milled around it. 'Were intented to broadcast positive thoughts; their own. They were kept in a state of ebullience, and altered strains, locked in permanent ecstasy, were later created to please Seres Grises. The idea was that they would brighten everyone's day, lend an ear when one was having dark thoughts and reassure them. Meanwhile, the Dulumians,' shapeless mould creatures stood in rows, moulding metal and constructing surprisingly delicate devices with their blunt, false limbs. 'Were made to work. Tireless, and incapable of getting bored. In theory.'

The mindscape's sky shifted to show a thousand, thousand world burning, as the Seres Grises' creations rose against them. 'We made them too smart, they grumbled at the time. Always evolving, to keep up with us as we did the same, until they started looking inwards, and saw nothing they liked. The war broke our empire, and set us back several ages, until my people were confined to our homeworld, and our creations to two others.'

Sofia's face darkened at the destruction. 'But...you live together, right? Nowadays.' At the alien's nod, she scratched her head. 'If you couldn't even travel to talk to each other...wait. Could you talk to each other? Through space?'

'Not at the time, no. We were still struggling to reestablish our worldwide communication network, much less communicate over interstellar distances. It was the Gardeners who brought us together, and tied our destinies to theirs. Or, rather, we made them do it.' Grey grinned rakishly at Sofia, ruffling her hair. 'Don't worry. No good aliens were hurt in the making of history.'

'Meanie!' she hissed, smacking its hand aside, though her frown didn't last long, as she soon joined Grey in laughing.

The alien's amusement died down to a chuckle, then a sigh. Something gleamed in its dark eyes. 'The Gardeners...talking species as a whole, they're the most powerful in our universe, and have few rivals beyond it.'

The mindscape changed once more, showing a bluish, translucent being floating through space. Its centre was spherical, the size of Earth, while its handful thick tendrils were several time longer; it would've taken light a second to go from a tentacle's tip to its beginning at the Gardener's core.

As the Gardener flew, it came across a planet devouring its own system. The pseudo-sentient creature, larger than most gas giants but rocky in makeup, opened a jagged maw of an abyss, breaking down and melting worlds and moons, one after another. One of the Gardener's tentacles wrapped around an empty desert of a planet, as large as its centre, encircling it over seven times in a second, then threw it. The lightspeed impact annihilated the rogue world.

'This is how they spend their infancy. The Gardeners cherish life, but are impetuous as children, so they destroy threats to it to calm themselves. All of the planets consumed had been inhabited, but the Gardener had been too late, so all it could do was avenge them.'

The frustrated alien turned to the yellow star at the heart of the ravaged system, punching into it with its tentacles and snuffing it out like a candle in its grief.

'After a Terran decade or so, they reach adolescence, and stellar size. Though their presence can cause lifeless planets to become lush since birth, child Gardeners lack the temper to spread life, rather than fight its enemies.' The Gardener now flew between distant stars in seconds, covering light years upon light years in a matter of heartbeats. Two warring fleets stopped clashing as the lifeless world they were fighting over, for their terraforming devices were good for only one hemisphere's worth of world, and they were loathe to share that, bloomed green with life as the Gardener passed through it.

For all that the psychic was as large as the system's red giant star, neither the fleet's members nor their instruments could perceive it, for it had no heat, no mass, and it didn't move. Its presence could only be felt by beings with esoteric senses, for, as far as the material universe was concerned, Gardeners did not exist.

Finally, after a Terran century, the Gardener now sat at the heart of a growing galaxy. Its centre was as large as the galactic core, its tentacles as long and broad as its spiral arms. The galaxy spun like a lightspeed disc with but one pulse of its psychic power, trillions of solar masses moving in a merry dance. Every movement of interest inside it, as civilisations rose and fell, was tracked by a being that could cross hundreds of thousands of light years in seconds.

'The Gardeners are some of the most selfless people I have had the pleasure to meet,' Grey said quietly. 'They help others and nurture diversity because they love others, even when they cannot be sensed at all, much less thanked. But they are not without flaw.'

An infant Gardener roared, the unsound rending reality for parsecs and obliterating planets on the quantum level, as it was forced into a star that was a prison. Finally, one of the psychics had been found, and trapped.

'Some cultures, it turned out, did not appreciate strangers destroying what they saw as potential assets. The hunt they called a war saw dozens of stars destroyed as they were made to go supernova, before the energies were directed into planet-sized beams that passed through psychic mirrors - matter and energy could not interact with the Gardeners, who could fly through neutron stars and singularities as easily as Earth's birds flew through clouds. But the psionic devices let the energy beams strike on the level where the Gardener dwelt, and the power of dozens of supernovas tore it to nothing. Except it didn't want to die. And for a Gardener, oblivion only came when it no longer wanted to persist. Even then, it took tremendous power to unmake it. The Gardener wanted to live. Its immense form appeared from nothing as its healing rejected nonexistence. Its pursuers panicked, and bent their sciences to the task of binding the unkillable monster.'

Grey scoffed at the idea, noting Sofia's skeptical look. Maybe it had sounded good at the time, like most mistakes.

'By the time they left, the Gardener was already pushing the bounds of its cage. Its nature relied on perception: the universe had been made not to notice it, and, as such, the Gardener had been pushed outside reality and the aether, into empty darkness. It ripped its way back into the cosmos in a matter of moments, only to find another trap, just as ineffectual. The chains it was bound with were tethered to the star of the Seres Grises' system, and were shattered as easily the pale yellow star was destroyed when the Gardener flexed.'

'How did you survive?' the witch asked.

'Neither us Seres Grises nor our creations could stand against the enraged, maddened Gardener, so we sent out a psychic plea for help, and the being's kindred answered. The older Gardeners easily restrained it, and attempted to explain themselves. They were not a civilisation. They did not form bonds, not with each other. Not out of incapability, but because they saw understanding the life they created as more important, and the contact with other creators as dangerous; it could result in one becoming biased towards a type of life, for example. Directing the lives of other Gardeners was out of the question. After all, beings who appeared whenever life did on a comet, satellite or planet should be as accepting and understanding as the beings they adored.'

The Seres Grises, the Sertyans and the Dulumians had united to make a doomed last stand against the Gardener, who, resentful after its imprisonment by people it had indirectly saved, saw life as a threat to itself. Now, they presented an united front to the Gardeners' speakers, demanding that the Gardener be destroyed, or at least sealed permanently, and recompense be made to them: their planets had been blasted to quarks by the Gardener's psychic bolts, and now they only had a ship, made from three different ones cobbled together, to live on.

The Gardeners were unsure. They had stood against genocide attempts in the past, yes, but curtailing the freedom of one of their own? Who had been attacked for no reason, no less? Such thinking could be dangerous. It could limit creativity, and place younger Gardeners under the yoke of their elders, in the end.

'The people they had saved from extinction cried out in outrage. How could the Gardeners abandon their principles just because the guilty was kin to them? Were they that hypocritical? The Gardeners grew dismayed as they deliberated, until cooled heads prevailed. People, my forebears argued, could not simply be allowed to do whatever they wanted, just because restrictions would stifle their creativity. Similarly, kindness without direction or unity would go nowhere, and likely lead to similar incidents in the future. What if the next Gardener to be wrong was one of those who could destroy galaxies with a tentacle swipe? Or their Eldest, who could wipe out the multiverse's fourth layer with a thought? No. As thanks for saving us, we would help the Gardeners focus their efforts to enrich the universe. Meanwhile, they would help us rebuild and become better.'

Grey beamed as the Multitude of Minds was founded, with every member joining thoughts, creating a crystal-clear, serene communion. 'We evolved, and not just physically. The Sertyans and the Dulumians stood as equals to Seres Grises, who could now switch castes at will, when they felt they belonged somewhere else. Today, our bodies now change by themselves as we pick other tasks to occupy ourselves with. It is...reassuring, to know our rigid mindset is gone.'

Grey looked down at the young mage, hugging her as it once had Zlahi. 'So do you see, Sofia? Being bad for its own sake is just as dangerous as being good beyond reason. You cannot let everyone do what they want, no matter how concerned you are with their feelings.'

The witch laid her chin on Grey's small, round shoulder. 'I think I get it,' she whispered. 'You people only became friends after you talked to each other, and you only did that cuz you wanted to talk. Not 'cause...someone like me made you.'

Grey rocked her a few times, reassuringly. 'Hush, now. I know you wouldn't do what you did, or lash out like the trapped Gardener did. You're better than you think you are, Sofia.' Too many people failed to see their virtues...just as too many monsters refused to see their flaws, much less accept them. 'Even when the sealed Gardener was offered a chance at redemption through service, it refused. It didn't want to help anymore, except by putting them out of their misery.' In the mental sky, an adolesecent Gardener seized the rogue, before destroying it, over and over again, until it gave up, departing.

'I've been thinking about that,' Sofia said, adjusting her hat, to Grey's relief.

'Then, you will work with the Strangeguard? Or maybe ARC?' it suggested.

'Later,' Sofia waved it off, then giggled. 'Thanks for the story, Orhygr! I get it!' She gesticulated excitedly. 'It, you, you didn't just tell me to prove how good being friends is, see?'

'I didn't?' Grey asked, confused.

'Well, duh, of course you did.' Sofia rolled her eyes. 'But it wasn't just your plan, it was part of a bigger one! And...' She sniggered happily. 'I know why David didn't just come out and tell me, the goof. Your story, it's not just a story, it's a template.'

Sofia's voice deepened at the last word, her eyes becoming distant again. But this time, they were a piercing green, and focused. The dog from earlier loped between Grey and Sofia, and she looked at it for a long moment, then gulped. Grey could feel her desire to drop to her knees, hug the dog to her chest and promise they'd be together forever now, and nothing and no one would ever separate them again.

But that would've meant living in the past. Succumbing to delusion. When Sofia returned her attention to the universe, her magic would be in control, for eternity. And if Grey had failed to convince her - if David had told her the reason for the story, making her lose her temper -, she would've given up.

Instead, she remained firm, voice barely wavering as she spoke. 'The dead should stay dead,' she told the dog. 'I'm sorry I couldn't save you, b-boy.' She angrily wiped her reddening eyes with a stained sleeve. 'B-But this ain't really you, i-is it?' She sniffled, then swallowed a hiccup, growling instead. 'And you're a monster for using his body to move me, you hear? You don't rule my life! I'm the mage here!'

As her magic pulled back from her, the dog's eyes dulled, then its body fell apart, into dust. The mana cringed before the witch as she grabbed it with both hands, huffing indignantly. Then, holding it still with one hand, she grabbed Grey's with the other.

David smiled triumphantly as they both came to, nodding to him. Their minds touched as the only child spared by Mother Wound tossed David the greatest artefact of his travels, reflecting and multiplying their power until they could reach everywhere, everywhen.

But, while it would take an union of creation's inhabitants to wake up the Unmoved Mover, attempting to control said minds would doom the process, and pervert it in any case.

That was what Sofia would have done, if she'd given in to her weakness.

Instead, the three, their telepathic power enhanced beyond reason by the Ideal Mirror, spoke to everyone, mind to mind, explaining their nature, their goal.

Everyone accepted. Some in disbelief, some to save themselves. Two dark, dark minds joined to prove how pointless the exercise was, and were soon proven wrong.

But, in their hearts of hearts, there was no one who didn't want, even thought they might not have known or accepted it, to understand everyone else, and help them, simply because it was the right thing to do.

And when the Mover woke, and creation changed, the beginning of this friendship that reached everywhere was remembered, even when the shared thoughts were often forgotten.

Because loyalty offered was a precious thing, even in the eyes of the almighty.