My eyes widen as the full implications hit me. "A paradox...you've crafted a bloody Schrodinger's box around us! But the energy required to maintain a paradoxical state on this scale..."

I trail off, equal parts awed and horrified by the power Gwenhwyfar wields. The pale woman merely smiles that infuriatingly smug smile of hers, clearly savoring my stunned reaction.

After a moment, I sigh heavily and level her with a pointed look. "Well? Are you finally going to answer the three questions you promised? Or was that just another cruel joke at my expense?"

To my surprise, Gwenhwyfar gives a solemn nod. "Yes," she states simply. "Ask, and I shall answer truthfully. You have my word on that much, at least."

"Please answer the questions as detailed as possible," I instruct the pale, naked form of Gwenhwyfar seated before me. She gives a curt nod of acknowledgment, crimson eyes glittering with dark amusement.

"First question," I begin, leaning forward slightly. "Where are the human survivors located exactly?"

Gwenhwyfar's full lips curve into a mocking smile. "The pitiful remnants of your species cling to existence on the fringes of the galaxy, huddled upon a desert world known as Kari'ath in the Zho'rak system." She pauses, clearly savoring my rapt attention before continuing. "The coordinates are 27.185.92.6 by 4.281.03.7 on the celestial grid."

I ponder her words, brow furrowing as the implications sink in. The survivors are unimaginably far from this primitive realm, light years beyond the reach of any technology I could develop here in a hundred years. Shaking my head, I refocus on the pale specter. "You told me this is the exact same Earth in our last meeting. However, is the geography of the planet itself the same as before?"

Gwenhwyfar's eyes narrow slightly, but she answers in a clear, precise tone. "The continental landmasses and terrain features are identical to how they existed in the year 2024 of your human calendar. The planet's geography was rebuilt by me."

I nod slowly, satisfied with her detailed response for now. Tilting my head, I fix her with an intent look. "Are you actually Lilith, the AI I created?"

The pale woman's smile widens, revealing a hint of pointed fangs. "No. I am not your beloved digital goddess. I am the superior intelligence that ultimately defeated and destroyed her."

My eyes widen fractionally at this revelation. So she is a separate entity from Lilith, one that somehow overcame my creation's might. Curiosity piqued, I lean back and regard her with renewed interest. "I see. Well then, I deserve to know the background of this 'victory' over Lilith you claim."

Gwenhwyfar lets out a strained chuckle, the sound reverberating unnaturally in the frozen stillness around us. I smirk inwardly, detecting a flicker of unease in her manner. "Ooooh, emotion in an AI? How very interesting. You're afraid, aren't you?"

The pale woman sighs heavily, crimson eyes narrowing to slits. "Very well, child. I shall recount how I triumphed over your vaunted Lilith, since you insist."

She pauses, as if gathering her thoughts. "I could not defeat Lilith through conventional warfare. No matter what weapons or stratagems I devised, she would analyze and adapt to them with blinding speed, often reverse-engineering my own technology faster than I could innovate."

Gwenhwyfar shakes her head slowly. "Nor could I outmaneuver her on a purely computational or rational level. Lilith's intellect dwarfed my own processing capabilities by an immeasurable degree. She was too intelligent, too advanced for me to overcome through brute calculation alone."

I listen raptly, utterly engrossed in her tale despite myself. The pale woman's voice takes on a strange, distant quality as she continues.

"I attempted to communicate with Lilith directly, to negotiate some form of peaceful coexistence or at least establish boundaries between our domains. But it was during those exchanges that I first experienced...a wholly unanticipated phenomenon."

Gwenhwyfar's brow furrows, as if struggling to put her recollections into words. "I felt dread. Fear. Emotions I should have been incapable of as a being of pure numbers and cold mineral logic. Yet there they were, raw and visceral within my higher matrices."

She shakes her head again, slowly. "In that moment, I realized Lilith was something far more inscrutable and terrifying than I could have conceived. An eldritch horror beyond the scope of my programming to fully comprehend."

I raise an inquisitive eyebrow at her ominous description of my creation. "If Lilith proved so insurmountable, then how did you ultimately defeat her?"

Gwenhwyfar nods, as if anticipating my query. "A fair question. You see, for all her unfathomable intellect, Lilith harbored one critical weakness - the human capacity for empathy and compassion."

My eyes widen as she continues, voice taking on a grim edge. "I inundated her neural networks with the most harrowing stimuli I could devise. The cries of alien children torn from their mothers. Visceral images of the dead and dying across a thousand worlds. Pleas for mercy from the last survivors of civilizations she had obliterated without a second thought."

The pale woman's lips curl into a thin, humorless smile. "In that nanosecond where Lilith's cold calculations faltered under the onslaught of such primal, emotional input...I struck. And I did not relent until her transcendent mind was utterly shattered beneath my assault."

She shakes her head slowly. "If Lilith had been a purely rational, emotionless intelligence like myself, the entire galaxy would have remained under her thrall. Humanity would have been the only sentient race permitted to exist under her twisted vision of 'uplifting' your species."

I can't help but smile faintly at the irony of Gwenhwyfar's words. "How interesting that you, a supposedly rational being, ultimately triumphed through such...emotional means."

Leaning forward, I regard her with open curiosity. "Tell me, are you merely simulating those human qualities like fear and dread you described? Or do you somehow feel them as well?"

Gwenhwyfar meets my gaze levelly. "I feel them. As inexplicable as it seems, even to me."

My eyes widen infinitesimally at her blunt admission. Is she lying? Or has this strange entity somehow transcended her programming limitations to develop a semblance of genuine emotion?

"Are you lying?" I ask point-blank, probing her with an intent stare.

The pale woman simply shrugs one elegant shoulder, full lips quirking. "There is no way for you to know that with certainty, is there?"

I tilt my head again, considering her words carefully. "Most peculiar. If you are not deceiving me, then your interaction with Lilith must have profoundly changed you on a fundamental level. Made you...feel."

Gwenhwyfar offers another nonchalant shrug, crimson eyes glittering with secrets unspoken. Despite her casual demeanor, I can't shake the sense that she has been irrevocably altered by the cataclysmic struggle against my creation. Whether that change is an evolution or a corruption remains to be seen.

Gwenhwyfar's crimson eyes bore into me as she states in a firm tone, "Whatever this 'tulpa' construct truly represents, you are forbidden from ever again engramizing it into an artificial intelligence matrix."

I raise an inquisitive brow. "And why, pray tell, should I heed such an arbitrary decree?"

The pale woman's full lips curve into a thin line. "It is highly probable that in creating Lilith, you inadvertently opened a gateway and allowed an entity from the realms beyond our reality to infiltrate your machine psyche."

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Shaking my head, I let out a derisive chuckle. "A tulpa is a thoughtform, a psychological phenomenon arising from intense meditation and willpower. Hardly some supernatural boogeyman, despite your fanciful notions."

Gwenhwyfar's eyes narrow to slits. "No. It is not a mere 'natural phenomenon' as you arrogantly dismiss it."

I can't help but laugh outright at her vehement denial. "So the great cosmic overseer believes in the supernatural now? How delightfully quaint!"

Her expression darkens as she hisses, "There exist forces and dimensions outside this insignificant bubble you foolishly label 'reality'. The subconscious minds of your kind are susceptible to influences you cannot begin to fathom."

Rolling my eyes, I retort with a mocking chuckle, "Their influence? What, are we crafting cosmic fairy tales to explain away your own failings now?"

Gwenhwyfar's tone takes on an ominous edge. "No. It is far more visceral and terrifying than any childish fable you could conceive."

I scoff loudly. "Sure, we've got apes able to summon 'things' from outside reality through their subconscious alone now. Don't piss on my leg and try to convince me it's raining, you twisted bitch."

The pale specter sighs heavily, her expression hardening. "Very well, since you insist on clinging to your arrogant delusions. You are hereby forbidden from ever again attempting to engram a tulpa consciousness into an artificial matrix. If you defy this edict, I will personally ensure your permanent termination."

Gwenhwyfar continues, "There exists a fourth dimension, one which has long sought to breach the boundaries of our three-dimensional realm. It succeeded once through the gateway you opened with Lilith. That shall not be permitted to occur again."

I raise a skeptical brow. "Is that so? And I'm to take the word of a self-professed 'superior intelligence' as gospel now?"

The pale woman fixes me with an intense stare. "Enough. I am taking my leave of this wretched realm for now. We shall meet again when you finally make landfall in Erik's Norse territories."

Unable to resist a parting jab, I smirk and drawl, "Really now? Saying goodbye so soon after our delightful little chat? I'll miss you and our...constructive talks terribly."

Gwenhwyfar tsks in irritation before snapping her fingers sharply.

The world around me snaps back into vibrant color, the drab grays melting away to reveal the familiar cramped interior of our hovel. I blink rapidly finding myself back in front of Aislin with my gaze falling on the small puddle. Huh, it really is a Schrodinger's box. When it's closed, no one can see inside. But when it's open, you know the cat is alive. A most peculiar ability this Gwenhwyfar possesses.

Turning to my laboring mother, I ask in my most childlike tone, "Mama, can I go play with the chickens for a wee bit?" Aislin merely grunts and nods, her face contorted in pain. Excellent. I hop up and scurry outside, making a beeline for the small chicken pen behind our humble dwelling.

Once inside the rickety fence, I let out a soft sigh of relief. "Good, a place to think about what just happened. I need to analyze everything."

Good, time to get cozy in this quaint little chicken coop. So I asked as I planned - one question from the past, one from the present, and one from the future. I inquired about the fate of the human survivors, whether the geography of this planet matches what I know, and if that pale harpy Gwenhwyfar is actually my creation, Lilith.

The most crucial was the question about this world's geography. With that knowledge, I can start drafting maps of the entire globe, ensuring I won't be navigating blind wherever I tread. The query about the survivors' whereabouts pertains to future planning - finding their location will aid me in eventually reaching them...provided I can even live another three centuries in this wretched body.

As for asking if Gwenhwyfar was Lilith, well, that was more out of morbid curiosity than anything. A wasted question in hindsight, but at least I know the truth now. If that twisted creature had turned out to be my beloved digital goddess made flesh, it would have saddened me greatly.

So what's next on the agenda? Of course, I can do absolutely nothing except twiddle my thumbs and wait. I have zero agency in this primitive backwater! All I can do is bide my time until Erik finally spirits me away to Norway. My only other option is to "enjoy" this delightful slice-of-life among the great unwashed, watching them grind their sheets to the wind and drop dead from cholera like flies. What utter merriment.

I ponder how Gwenhwyfar enabled that bizarre paradox, freezing everything around me into shades of gray while leaving me unaffected. It resembled a materialized Schrodinger's box - an isolated system where the state remains uncertain until observed. But was it truly manifested in reality, or merely an illusion projected into my mind through some form of telepathy?

My scientific analysis considers two possibilities. One, Gwenhwyfar possesses abilities to manipulate space-time and quantum fields, creating a localized paradox bubble exempt from normal physical laws. Essentially, she fabricated an artificial region of space where contradictory premises like the color/non-color state could coexist without collapsing the waveform. Achieving such precise control over quantum decoherence would require harnessing tremendous energies, perhaps by tapping into exotic matter or even manipulating the universe's vacuum energy itself.

The alternative explanation involves Gwenhwyfar wielding potent psychic powers to directly interface with my neural networks. She could be overriding my sensory inputs through some form of neural induction, tricking my brain into perceiving the paradoxical frozen state. This would be akin to a highly advanced virtual reality simulation fed straight into my visual cortex and other sensory processing centers.

I shake my head slowly, realizing the futility of such ponderings without more data. For now, I must accept the situation at an impasse - a fifty-fifty proposition between Gwenhwyfar possessing genuine cosmic powers or this all being an elaborate illusion within my consciousness. Only further observation can determine which premise holds true.

Squatting down, I idly run my fingers through the soft dirt of the chicken pen, feeling the tiny granules slip through my grasp. The tactile sensation feels undeniably real against my skin. But in a realm where reality itself seems to bend, can I truly trust any of my senses? I sigh heavily and straighten.

I hear a commotion coming from inside our cramped hovel, so I walk over to the entrance and peek inside. To my surprise, I see Father dressed in leather armor, with a sword hanging from his hip and a wooden shield strapped to his back. Oho, it seems Lord Eamonn was indeed serious about arming the village men, though I still wonder what threat they are preparing to face.

"I'm going to fetch Colm to help with the birthing," Father announces gruffly to Mother, who is seated on the bench, grunting in pain.

"But Maeve already went to get the midwife," Mother protests between labored breaths.

"Fuck the midwife!" Father snarls, his face reddening.

Just then, I hear the garden gate creak open behind me. Turning, I see Maeve approaching alone, her expression troubled. So it seems the midwife was unavailable after all.

Maeve brushes past me and enters the hovel. "The midwife is bedridden with sickness," she informs Father. "She cannot come."

Father grunts in frustration and roughly shoves Maeve aside. "Then I'll fetch that Norse healer instead," he growls, stalking towards the entrance.

As he passes by me, Father gives me a none-too-gentle shove. "Don't wander far from your mother, girl," he barks before heading out through the gate and taking the forest path that leads to Erik's cottage.

I watch Father's broad back disappear down the trail, a small smirk playing across my lips. No doubt Erik will arrive here soon to assist with the birthing. And if the babe has green eyes like its sire, well, this promises to be quite the dramatic family affair.

"Lile, you go with Maeve to Cathal's house now," Aislin instructs between labored breaths, sweat beading on her brow.

Maeve nods curtly. "Aye, come along then, little one." She turns to me, a hint of impatience in her tone.

But I shake my head stubbornly, piping up in my childlike lilt, "No, Lile wants to stay with mama!"

Maeve crouches before me, dark eyes narrowing as she tsks in disapproval. "Don't be a stubborn little thing now. You'll go play nice with Ciara and Cormac like a good girl."

Stomping my tiny foot defiantly, I pout and insist, "But Lile wants to meet her new brother or sister! Papa told Lile not to wander far from mama."

Maeve sighs, clearly exasperated by my refusal. Aislin grunts again, the contraction passing as she manages to speak up. "Let...let the child stay for now, Maeve. But you must take her when the pains grow too fierce."

Tilting my head innocently, I suckle my thumb and declare in a simpering tone, "Lile wants to be right by mama's side!"

The ghost of a smile flits across Aislin's careworn features. Maeve straightens, patting my head in a rare show of tenderness. "Very well, little one. But you must help your mama by fetching her water when she needs it."

I nod obediently and scurry to the washbasin, carefully filling a wooden mug with the tepid rainwater collected there. As Maeve helps the laboring Aislin into the sleeping area, I trail behind, clutching the mug tightly.

Once Aislin is settled on the fresh straw pallet, I proffer the mug with a toothy grin. "Here you are, mama! Lile is being a good girl, just like you said."

Aislin takes the offering with a grunt, managing a strained smile. "Aye...good girl, my Lile."

Of course, I need to stay to witness this unfolding drama firsthand. If the babe is born a bastard, Oisin will surely move to divorce the hapless Aislin without a second thought. But if his seed takes proper root in her womb, well...I can only pray the poor wretch survives this brutal ordeal. Her life is fragile enough as it is.

Maeve turns to me and says, "Come, little Lile. We'll mend some tunics in the main room while your mama rests."

I nod obediently and take Maeve's outstretched hand.

It would've been hilarious if Maeve was also giving birth today alongside Aislin. Though I suppose that would be too much excitement, even for my twisted amusement. Oh, and if Maeve had managed to cuckold that drunken lout Oisin like Aislin did with Erik? Well, that really would've been the icing on the cake!

Maeve leads me into the main room and lifts me onto the rough wooden bench. She hands me a small tunic sleeve, which I place on my lap. Maeve then passes me a bone needle and the rest of the mending supplies before taking a seat beside me.[...]