“We’re going to try and do things your way, Samantha.”

She nearly fell out of her chair as I suddenly revealed my intentions for the next operation.

“What? You nearly bit my head off when I suggested that last time!”

“Felipe said something that made me think. How can I be so sure that we can’t do this peacefully when I haven’t tried it yet? If they refuse to acquiesce to good sense then we’ll simply have to adjust our plans accordingly.”

Samantha was seeing me as more reasonable than I really was. I was only entertaining this idea through a mixture of curiosity, and having enough leverage to lean on the conspirators without resorting to threats of violence.

“What brought this on? You must have a reason.”

I nodded, “As it happens – Duchess Rentree and company are visiting the Franzheim house owned by Carides in a week. It’s a veritable who’s who of names and faces from the letters we stole. That means they’re here for one reason.”

“To try and keep everything running smoothly.”

“Correct. Franklin has been keeping his ear to the ground about it. They’re organizing the whole thing in a hurry. That helpful warning we sent to Carides must have shaken her nerves somewhat, so Rentree is visiting to try and cement her support moving forward. If she loses Carides...”

“It’s all over for them?”

I frowned, “Perhaps. Their plans to ferment anarchy won’t go so well if they don’t end up in control of the government in exchange. We’ll still have to be guarded about them killing members of the Social Democrats; you should never assume that they’ll do the rational thing and give up.”

“Cordia will be there, won’t she?”

“That’s right. She’ll be looking for me after what happened at the museum, and I can’t expect an invitation from Franzheim if she knows the same.”

It was up in the air as to whether Cordia would resort to violence to stop me if I showed my face at the meeting. It was safe to assume that some of the conspirators were only involved on a need-to-know basis, given the wide range of tones in the letters I’d read. Rentree was trying her level best to appeal to everyone at the same time, taking a softer approach to the members who didn’t appreciate violence.

Samantha was worried, “What are you planning on doing then? You can hardly afford to take a chance on Cordia restraining herself.”

She was right. Those who weren’t in the know were not important enough for Rentree to compromise her entire scheme for. Caius and I had already proved to be a tough roadblock, hijacking information which was meant to be burnt by the reader and popping up when it was least opportune. She would have to weigh up the value of taking a hard line versus us and potentially alienating them.

“Caius was insistent that we should take a page from his theatrical book and use shock and awe.”

“Hm, what does that mean?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I replied, “Perhaps making a big show of our arrival on the property? Or bursting into the drawing room at a climactic moment to disrupt proceedings?”

“Seeing your face would surely shock them, but haven’t you been trying to conceal your identity this whole time?”

I nodded, “Of course. The best defence I have against any of their accusations is absurdity. Would you have believed that I was the one responsible for the gunfight at the party had you not also seen me at the theatre? From a position of weakness, one cannot levy accusations at others.”

Though it was a concern. I did not want them to believe that I was a reborn assassin, or that I was personally involved in any of the violent acts that had taken place in response to their plot.

Samantha twiddled her pencil, “I do think that you could stand to listen to our opinions and ideas more often. You’re as stubborn as a mule sometimes.”

“I’m well aware of that. In the heat of the moment there aren’t many opportunities to concoct elaborate plans like this, not when the enemy has already started shooting. Consider this your chance to show me the light.”

“I haven’t even spoken with him yet. I might think that he’s full of bullcrap as well, and there’s a pretty damn good chance of that.”

“He can be practical when he wants to be. It’s not all about throwing roses and whipping his cape around.”

“Huh, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Franklin was coming in clutch with all of the information gathering he was doing for us. I never realised just how leaky the environment was when a handful of attendants and servants were switching workplaces on a semi-regular basis. Some of these details were closely guarded and extremely personal, but inevitably the maids would gossip to one another about the recent goings-on, especially if they were juicy.

It turned out that Franklin was a bit of a ladies’ man. He was good-looking and well-mannered, so all of the maids thought he was the most eligible bachelor around. It was rather unusual for a man in his late twenties to remain unmarried. The average wedded age in Walser was low, settling in the early twenties instead. There was a big economic incentive to get married early, buy a home, and have a few kids who could support them as they grew older and became incapable of working.

That worked in our favour. Even a slight show of interest in their work lives was enough to make maids, from our own house to the Franzheim’s, spout secretive information like a collection of broken faucets. It made me think twice about raising my voice when they were around to hear it.

“We will make firm plans once we return to my house this weekend. The Franzheim estate is mercifully close, in comparison to some of the other nobles that live around the city.”

Samantha flashed her teeth, “I look forward to it.”

I was dreading it.

“By the way, there’s one more piece of business to attend to before we crash their party...”

----------------------------------------

“...You wanted to visit the Henry Snow Museum?” Sam commented dryly as we pulled up onto the main drive.

“I’d really rather not. You already know how much my Father loves to extol the virtues of the man.”

“So, why are we here then?”

I opened the door and hopped down onto the sidewalk next to the main stairs. The police had already completed their investigation of the scene and cleared out. There was no hint that this place was just the scene of a violent shooting.

Their focus was mainly aimed at the spot where one of Clemens’ guards was killed, but there were also a lot of bullet holes in the back offices thanks to me and Cordia. I didn’t envy the job of the detective who was tasked with piecing this one together. It made no sense from an outsider’s perspective.

“I kept forgetting to tell you – but when we were here last time the curator approached me and handed me a letter that he’d been holding onto for a very long time.”

“What did it say?”

“It was from the man himself, Henry Snow knew that I’d be there, even though he died before I was born.”

Samantha's brow rose in scepticism, “How is that possible?”

“I’m not certain. He was clearly privy to information that any normal person couldn’t possess. It told me to come here again on this day and bring my ‘destined partner’ with me, who I can only presume to be you.”

“Destined partner? That makes it sound like we’re going to be wed.”

“While I’m sure you’d be more than happy to do so, I do believe that it is a more metaphorical use of the term than what you allege.”

Samantha huffed and crossed her arms, “Who’d want to marry a rotten girl like you?”

“I was rightly suspicious about how and why he gave that information to me. It’s much more than a simple coincidence.”

“Do you think this is some kind of trap?”

“No. Who would be able to predict those events with such accuracy? They should have used that knowledge to kill me, not send me a letter.”

We walked up the stairs and peered through the glass door into the main lobby. True to form, the Curator was already waiting for us with a key loop in hand. He shuffled towards us and unlocked the door.

“Miss Walston-Carter! I’m glad that you decided to visit. And who is this lovely lady beside you?”

Sam introduced herself, “I’m Samantha Easton.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Now, we’re on a fairly tight schedule today, so if you’d please follow me to the etherscope.”

Samantha gave me a bewildered look as we were escorted through the lobby and into the main showroom. The museum was closed today. There wasn’t a singular soul in the building aside from us. The etherscope’s absurdity became increasingly evident when seeing it from the ground floor.

The number-one aspect of the device that put both me and Samantha on edge was the airlock-style door that bulged outwards from the front. A tiny, circular window was the only view into the interior, and that was blocked by a second dividing chamber that granted access to the etherscope itself.

The Curator was quick to try and assuage our concerns about it; “Now, now – there’s no need to be afraid of this old thing. It’s one of the few machines in this museum that works without a hitch! It won’t do anything so long as you don’t cast any spells in there without restraining yourself.”

“What does it do?” Samantha asked.

“The etherscope is a magic catalyser. Any magical energy that you spend on the inside will be more efficient and powerful, which it achieves by creating a unique mixture of atmospheric conditions and by storing raw magic using a special kind of crystal. Sir Snow also attested to its ability to connect one with ‘existences beyond our own reality,’ though none of our guests have ever managed to do the same.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I nodded, “I get the picture.”

“Lady Walston-Carter, if you’d like to do the honours and go first. Samantha and I can manage the controls from out here.”

There was no benefit in dallying and hoping for more details now. It was time to take the plunge and see if this Goddess was all she was cracked up to be. I twisted the handle on the chamber door and stepped through into the airlock, slamming the door shut again behind me and locking it tight.

“Okay! That’s secure, make sure to tighten the inner door as well!” The Curator said through a small channel in the brass structure, “We won’t be able to speak once you’re inside. I’ll keep the injector running for five minutes. Don’t worry – you’ll definitely hear it once it starts.”

The interior chamber of the etherscope was more elaborate than I expected from the otherwise robust construction and casting. A layer of black rubber had been pinned to the brass walls, and several long antennae poked through to form circular rings at the top and middle. A single, larger antenna pointed straight downwards from above, giving enough clearance for a person to stand beneath.

There was a loud rumble and the entire place shook. It sounded like an engine had started on the outside. I tapped into my extra senses and tracked the flow of magic energy, which was now pouring through small holes drilled between the rubber and brass. My hair stood on end as a thrum of energy rushed through and subtly manipulated the atmospheric conditions to maximize my magical power.

Henry Snow really was ahead of his time to build something like this.

For a minute I pondered what my part in this was supposed to be. There was no obvious path for me to take, there were no objects inside of the chamber for me to utilise, and I knew of no spells that allowed me to tear the fabric between realities to speak with a so-called God.

As it turned out – I needed only to wait.

I stood in the middle of the chamber and was taken aback as suddenly all of the light and sound that surrounded me disappeared into nothing. The steampunk mechanism I was inhabited was nowhere to be found – replaced with a black void. The floor below perfectly reflected what was above. I saw my own reflection staring up at me. Each movement sent clear ripples echoing across the water-like surface.

I was still alone though. I walked to the other side of the room only to find that the walls were no longer present, as if I’d been transported to another place entirely. I could keep going for however long I wanted. I closed my eyes again and expanded my senses, and it was that which unlocked the gateway to the visitor from beyond. The horizon tremored with each word like a waveform.

“Jensen Weller. Have you adjusted to your new life as Maria Walston-Carter? I hope that you are well.” Her voice was strong yet ethereal. It attacked me from all sides, being projected from no specific source or location.

I crossed my arms, “Well enough, but I am replete with questions for you.”

“I understand. To answer your questions is why I brought you here. Today is an important day. The conversation we are about to have has long-term ramifications for the future of this world. I am the one they call the Goddess, and I am the benefactor who granted you a second life. But you can call me Durandia.”

Durandia? The Goddess had a name, and seemingly a sense of self to go with it.

“You could have-”

“-Chosen someone more suited, or deserving?”

I nodded silently.

“It is not a matter of moral worth. You are the puzzle piece that I have been missing. There are threats to this world that I am not capable of solving using my power. That is why I brought you here and implanted you into an empty vessel, whilst maintaining your free will – as we are required to do.”

“How can I have free will when you tweaked with my head? Didn’t you change my mental state to make me fit into this body?”

“Preserving free will is a complicated subject. Those changes were deemed to not impact your decision-making ability. You are as you were during your past life. An individual is not capable of ‘choosing’ their identity in an honest sense. Every mortal being is affected by the environment they are raised in. It is a process that begins without their knowledge or consent.”

I glanced around me to try and locate where her voice was coming from, “Couldn’t you make a visible form for me to speak with?”

“I’m afraid that such aesthetic benefits will shorten our already scant time to speak, Maria.”

I sighed, “Fine – but you better have some good answers ready for me.”

“I do,” she said assertively, “In fact, I already know everything you are about to ask.”

The gears turned in my head, “You can see everything that’s going to happen, and that’s how Henry Snow knew to send me that letter?”

“Yes. Both the letters and the construction of this chamber came about as a result of my meddling. This discussion has been decades in the making - even before you were brought here to this world. I had a helping hand from your previous custodian, who allowed for the creation of Love Revolution.”

“From all the way back then? I can’t believe you put so much effort into this.”

“I had no choice. You have already deduced one fundamental truth through Cordia’s actions. One cannot change the course of history, it marches ever onward outside of any control. The only difference between you and me is that I am aware of future events. Despite this knowledge, I am incapable of changing them as I see fit. In order to achieve the best ends for this world I must tread the path laid for me and see it through. I saw a future in which you proved pivotal to this world’s salvation.”

“Really? We’re going with the world’s saviour angle now?”

That was a big leap from getting into bloody spats with political opportunists. I hadn’t seen anything that would make my mind go to that kind of escalatory rhetoric. Conscious of the short time we were given to speak, I moved things along and posed my next question.

“If I’m supposedly destined to save this world – why did you need to bring me here? Wouldn’t it have been easier to leave it alone and let me do my thing?”

“There is no specific purpose to this discussion,” the Goddess revealed, “The mere existence of our present interaction is intended to set history on its correct course.”

“So it isn’t about feeding me important information. You just want me to be aware that you’re watching, because it’ll influence the way I think and behave from now on.”

“Correct. Your comprehension of these facts is reassuring.”

“But why me?”

“I saw myself choosing you. I knew that you were the one I would select to handle this burden, even without seeing my own reasoning. We call these moments of self-communication ‘cascade points,’ where our future sight folds over itself and allows us to know the unknowable.”

"But if you can see the future, why don't you know what I'll do?"

"As the tree grows taller and more distant - the branches diverge evermore. The farthest point I could ascertain with certainty was my decision to pick you. I see now that it was the correct choice. The 'me' in the past will undergo the same process, repeating this cycle into eternity."

Like a Godly game of telephone.

I opened my mouth to object, but I understood now that she would know the true meaning of my question no matter what I said. She was intentionally avoiding the point. She meant to say that she had no idea. She couldn’t name the specific qualities that made me the best choice because she could only see one outcome of events, she could only see herself making that decision based on her knowledge of the future and nothing more.

It was mind-bending. Durandia was making choices without even knowing why. Perhaps some would describe her slavish devotion to following the future as stifling, but if she was so confident that these predictions were accurate, why would she elect to do any different? Her motivation was to protect the world – not to understand each individual choice in the process. Her future sight and the linearity of time created a paradox wherein she was incapable of making the 'wrong' choice. She spied on her future self and took her answers from there.

“As you can imagine, seeing the future is as much a curse as it is a blessing. I know how this tale will conclude and every story that comes thereafter. A theoretical version of myself plucked you from the sea of souls with this intent, to save the world I watch over when my own influence cannot reach. Who started this chain? How is that possible? How can one see divergent paths when there are none? These questions elude even us.”

There was a brief silence as I considered my next line of inquiry.

“Will I really save this planet?” I asked, “Sorry for not finding that convincing.”

“Your scepticism makes me envious. To not know the path you walk is a precious thing. You should cherish it."

A nice way of telling me to live happily in ignorance. She was very open about a lot of other subjects. There must have been a motivated reasoning behind her dancing around the key point. She was trying to avoid spoiling the conclusion.

“Do as you have done until now, and you will survive the trials to come. You are correct. This is no punishment. The lives of the mortals beyond the Veil are precious, and it is that value which I seek to protect. You have taken many lives – but you will save many more in turn. Apologies if this sounds callous, but I can see you as nothing more than a useful tool, so removed as I am from life on your side of the curtain.”

I chuckled, “Actually – that sounds reassuring to me. Transactional relationships like this are what I’m used to.”

If Durandia did not possess the ability to empathize with a single life then there was no need to seek forgiveness. It aligned with what I’d concluded after protecting Felipe from the assassins during the theatre shooting. Durandia did not want a good, virtuous knight in shining armour, because the non-existent self she gleamed in the future already understood that it would not present the outcome she desired.

But there was one other big question on my mind. Samantha was clearly the ‘destined partner’ she spoke of in the letter. What did that mean? I doubted that we were about to depart on a whirlwind romance and save the world with a wedding ceremony. There was more significance to that term.

“What are you going to tell Samantha when it’s her turn?”

“I will tell her what is necessary.”

I scoffed, “You’re not going to throw me under the bus and tell her the truth, are you?”

Durandia was firm, “No. Samantha is a less cynical being than you. There is still an element of ‘belief’ in her mind. She will treat this moment with a certain weight that you cannot. From the moment I revealed my name you have thought less of me. Curious.”

“You make it sound so insulting.”

“One day - you will say with honesty that hearing my name turned me from a God into something more tangible.”

She was right on the money, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her. I shook my head like a petulant child and refused to accept it.

“If you’re a God, why can’t you solve this big problem on your own?”

“As we are instructed to protect free will, we also must abide by other rules. Beyond that – affecting great change through the Veil is an exhausting process. My energy can only go so far, just like the magic that you wield. It is only through the etherscope that we may speak freely like this.”

How convenient. A God that was simultaneously powerful enough to rip my departed soul from the afterlife and create a fake body and identity to put it into, but also too weak to snap her fingers and end the problem before it started. Those must have been some pretty strict rules to bind her like this.

“With that said, our time is running short. I must preserve some of my energy to speak with Samantha.”

“Are you going to pull the wool over her eyes and fill her with divine purpose?”

“I will not lie. Samantha will be told what she needs to hear. As for your identity, that remains your truth to hold. I hope you carefully consider the consequences before sharing it with her.”

I laughed, “Shut up. You already know what I’m going to do, don’t you?”

There was a brief silence before she responded, “Yes, I do. But I had to say that so that you’d remember it later.”

She was purposefully saying redundant things just to foreshadow future events. There was no way in hell that Samantha would understand whatever was going on here. Even I was starting to lose track of the way she behaved. A five-minute discussion was more than enough to fry my brain.

“Alright, alright. Spare me any more of these games.”

“Very well. We will speak again, eventually. Until then, have a nice life.”

Just as quickly as I was pulled into this reflective void, I returned to the chamber. The whir of the engine was slowing to a halt. I recalibrated my crossed eyes and headed for the exit. Samantha and the Curator were waiting for me on the outside with anxiety written onto their features.

“I’ve never seen readings quite like that. What happened in there?” he asked.

“It’s... difficult to explain. Samantha, it’s your turn.”

She jolted upright, “Wait, what am I supposed to do in there?”

“Just tune in to your magical senses – and it should handle the rest for you.”

That wasn’t very reassuring, but I was not going to divulge the truth to the Curator without good reason. She stepped across the threshold and disappeared behind the twin doors. The noise of the motor was even louder on the outside. The Curator pulled levers and pressed big, colourful buttons until an analogue gauge on the console ticked upwards into a green zone.

“Okay. The catalyser is working and we have a pitch-perfect atmospheric reading.”

The other gauges on the console started to jitter wildly.

“There it goes again.”

“Did that happen while I was inside?”

He nodded, “Indeed, are you sure that nothing unusual occurred in there?”

I refused to answer. He got the message that I wasn’t going to divulge what exactly Henry Snow was trying to do by building this contraption. If people knew the full implications of it – it would surely pose more of a danger than it would help. Durandia was dedicated to protecting the integrity of ‘the Veil,’ whatever that was, and I instinctively knew that this catalyser gave mages the ability to pierce that Veil and speak with beings beyond our own reality.

It was a long and agonizing wait, but after her five minutes were up – the Curator turned off the engine and disengaged the climate control system. The taller girl ducked beneath the door, looking dishevelled and shell-shocked in equal measure.

“Uh, Miss Easton?”

She woke up again after he spoke to her, “Oh! Mister Curator, thank you for letting us inside. It was... interesting.”

That was her subtle way of saying ‘I desperately want to speak with you about what that was.’ We excused ourselves and fled back to the carriage before the Curator could barrage us with any questions about why Sir Snow wanted us to use his most eccentric creation.

Samantha sat across from me as we set off back for the estate.

“Did that really happen?” Samantha said.

“Yes. Yes, it did.”