Hecate

Patreon Snippets 23B (Heretical Edge 2)

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The following is the 23rd edition of Patreon Snippets (or at least the Heretical Edge-related ones). Actually, it is only most of them. There is one more snippet, but for plot-related reasons it will be attached to the end of one of the next couple chapters. Each month, every Patreon supporter who donates at least ten dollars per month is able to request at least five hundred words toward any subject they would like to see written about (within reason), join their idea to others to make it longer, or hold it for future installments. Thanks go to them, as well as to all supporters, and to all readers. Remember, as little as 5 dollars per month gets you every single chapter one day early. In addition, donators get to vote on end-of-arc interludes, non-canon chapters, and have discounts for commissions. And hey, don’t forget that everyone, Patron or not, can join us in the Discord channel right here

Sometime Over The Summer

It was a moment that both mother and daughter had dreamed about for a very long time. In the quiet, early evening air, Sariel and Tabbris walked through a beautiful park somewhere in southern California. They were alone here, no other visitors in sight as they watched the end of the sunset across the distant ocean. Holding hands, the two stopped together at the top of the low hill the pathway through the park had led them to. Neither had spoken in the past few minutes, content to simply be with one another in silence. It had been a long road to get to this point, and neither had been certain they would ever actually make it. 

Finally, once the last rays of light had disappeared behind the horizon, Tabbris spoke up. “I wish I could show you the house, Mama.” She didn’t have to clarify further than that, they both knew what she meant. The house where she had grown up, the house she had spent so much time in while secretly possessing Flick. Her home for so long, even if neither of the other two who lived there had known that she was with them until after they left. She wanted to show her mother the house, the room where she had slept inside Flick, the flower garden where she had secretly performed so many protective spells, and so on. She simply wanted to share that and let her mother see the home that she had been sent to. 

Unfortunately, it was too dangerous. The Crossroads loyalists would be watching many places just in case, and the Chambers’ home was one of them. If they showed up there, even for a few minutes, it could set off an alert and cause problems. No matter how much Tabbris wanted to show her mother the house, it wasn’t worth that sort of danger. She knew that, but still felt a pang of regret that she wouldn’t be able to walk through what truly was her childhood home with her mother that way. 

“Well,” Sariel murmured thoughtfully while turning to look at her daughter with a fond smile. “You can still show me, you know? You can show me everything you’ve done, if you want to.”

Hesitating slightly, Tabbris guessed, “You mean with my memories?” She knew she could share memories with her mother. Using it for this sort of thing simply hadn’t occurred to her. 

Sariel, however, replied, “In a way, with my memories.” Smiling faintly at her daughter’s confusion, she continued. “You remember the… other me.” 

“Dream Mama?” Tabbris gave a hurried nod. “Of course I do! She taught me everything, and she was there for me when I was sad and lonely, and she rocked me, and–and…” Trailing off, she hesitated. “She hasn’t been around very much since I showed Flick who I was. I guess because I had someone else to talk to and I wasn’t alone anymore. And… and I think she ran out of things she could teach me. But she helped me a lot. She–you…” Swallowing, she moved to embrace her actual mother. “I’m glad you were here, Mama, even if it was just like that.” 

Returning her daughter’s embrace, Sariel smiled. “Yes, I was here, in a way. And, if you allow it, I can experience everything the other version of me did.” She gently stroked Tabbris’s hair. “If you send her back to me, I’ll have all of her memories of everything that happened while you were growing up. Just as if I was there myself.” 

Eyes widening a bit at that, Tabbris stared at her mother. “S-so you mean, it would be like… you’d have memories of me being a baby and you taking care of me? And teaching me? And… and everything?” 

“Yes,” Sariel confirmed. “I know… I know it is a lot to ask you to send me your mental version of me, after everything she meant to you–” 

“It’s okay, Mama,” Tabbris insisted. “Um, she’s you. She’s part of you. And now I have you. So if I give her back, it’s like you’re whole now. You’re both of you. And you’ll have all her memories, so you’ll, umm, you’ll remember everything you said to me and everything we did. I’ll have Dream Mama and Real Mama at the same time.” 

Touching the side of her daughter’s face, Sariel asked, “Are you absolutely certain?” 

Without hesitation, Tabbris nodded. “Mama, I want you and Dream Mama to be one so I can hug her when I hug you and you can remember everything she said. It’s… ummm, you couldn’t be there to raise me yourself, but you did raise me. And if you take her back, you’ll remember it. But, how do we do that?” 

“I’ll show you, baby,” Sariel quietly assured her before turning to look out at the ocean once more as the moon shone across it. “In a few minutes. There’s no rush. 

“We have plenty of time.” 

*********

While Flick And Company Were Dealing With The Denny Situation

Two wolves, one gray-furred and one a tawny color, raced through a quiet suburban neighborhood together. Accompanying them was a cyberform cougar. People out mowing their lawns, delivering papers, or any other number of mundane daily tasks simply saw a trio of dogs that had gotten loose and were running free. A couple called after them, but no one gave chase. Blame the Bystander Effect, or the bystander effect, upper or lower case. A worldwide magical enchantment drawing away the attention and memories of ordinary people, or a very mundane reality in which many people witnessing something will all assume that someone else will act. Either could explain the fact that no one moved to intercept the ‘dogs’ racing through their neighborhood.

Eventually, the wolf pair and their cyberform companion cut through a backyard, startling a man who had been picking up weeds in his flower garden. They leapt over a tall fence, easily clearing its ten foot height before sprinting through the empty yard behind, approached a fence that was two feet taller than the previous one. They still cleared that in a single leap. 

Finally, the trio stopped upon finding themselves facing an assembled group of people waiting for them. 

“Good,” Mateo, a quite thin Latino man who was barely five foot eight, spoke up. “You made it.” 

Immediately, the two wolves began to transform, while the metal cougar simply sat on her haunches and watched. The tawny-furred one shifted and grew into blonde-haired Roxa, while the gray one next to her became Gia Perez, better known as Pace. Both were wearing dark blue skin-tight Seosten bodysuits. 

Taking a quick glance around, inventorying who was there, Roxa recognized the pack leader Mateo, the red-haired man Franklin Corson (who was a couple inches shorter than even Mateo), the other Latina member of the pack, Hasty, and their newest member, a tall, muscular man with long brownish-blond hair who went by Pars. Pars had been the werewolf who was controlled by the evil plant-creature Kwur to attack Flick and the others in Las Vegas. Flick had pointed him toward Mateo, and now he was part of the pack. 

Unfortunately, there was one member Roxa didn’t see. She winced, reaching down to touch the top of Gidget’s head. “You haven’t found Lesedi yet?” 

Lesedi, the last member of the pack. Once there had been another, but Fezzik had died during the fight against the Seosten in the Auberge, when everyone had been trying to get to Liesje’s vault. 

With her short purple hair and dark skin, as well as her tendency to wear sunglasses with purple lenses, the woman stood out. But there was no sign of her here in the yard where the pack had been staying recently, and the only scents of the girl that Roxa could pick up as she carefully sniffed were at least several hours old. 

“Yes and no,” Corson (he preferred that over his first name of Franklin), answered. “We know where she is, but getting in there might be a little tougher with all the cops.” 

“All the cops?” Roxa echoed, blanching. “What happened? Why–she was locked up for Vice Day, wasn’t she?” 

Vice Day came once a month. It was a different day for everyone, normally sometime around when they were first changed. For roughly twenty-four hours, they would be entirely taken by one of the seven vices. It was always the same vice for each person. For Mateo, it was envy. He wanted what other people had. For Hasty, it was gluttony. She gorged herself on treats and food, but also on having fun. Corson’s was wrath, Pace’s was pride, and Pars’ was sloth. 

Roxa’s, much to her embarrassment, was lust. But she and Sean had a standing arrangement to lock themselves in a motel room and… waste that twenty-four hours. There was no shame between the two of them, because they had plenty of discussions before and after about what they could do while she was taken by her vice and how to be safe. Between protection and dialogue, they made it work.  

Which left Lesedi. Her personal vice was greed. 

With a grimace, Mateo explained the situation better than he had when sending the message for the two of them to hurry down here in the first place. “Lesedi locked herself up in the safe room, like usual. She had all the games and movies in there, and we dumped in that bag of gold coins for her to count. That usually makes her feel better and helps her pass the time. But there was some sort of short in the electrical system, and the door opened while we were out getting lunch. She got out and…” He sighed. 

“And she went to rob a bank,” Hasty put in promptly. “Now she’s in the vault down there counting all the money, and there’s a bunch of cops outside waiting to go in. I mean, not really that tough. We could smack all of them around, but Mateo wanted to be more subtle.” She sounded very put out that their pack leader had put the kibosh on that idea. 

“We were hoping,” Mateo himself announced flatly, “that the two of you would have some Heretic powers that could get you in there more quietly.” 

Pars spoke up finally, rubbing his shoulder. “We can still probably help, quietly put the uhh, snipers to sleep for awhile or whatever. Give you an opening to get in the back. Plan B was getting Barnyard to cause a distraction.” He smirked just a little at the thought of his troll buddy. “But this seemed better.”  

Exchanging glances with Pace, Roxa gave a quick nod. “Yeah, I think we can do that. We’ll need to see a picture of the bank so we can plan it out and all, but… wait, how do you know she’s still safe in there and they haven’t gone in?” 

“We’ve got a member of Section Four in charge of the police response,” Mateo answered. Section Four was the secret Alter-Adjacent (human unaffected by the Bystander Effect) group within various positions of authority throughout the government and similar institutions. “He can’t make them leave or anything obvious like that, but he’s been making sure they don’t go inside. For now, anyway. We need to hurry up.” 

“Okay,” Roxa agreed. “Then let’s bring the place up on Google Maps and figure out how to get in. 

“And, more importantly, how to get Lesedi out.” 

********

Sometime Over The Past Few Weeks

“And when Feutar the Cannibalized landed his ship on that half-moon island in the middle of the Kavnan Ocean on the Rakshasa homeworld, who can tell me the name of the tribe he ran into?”  

As he asked that question, Hubert Hobart (they were pretty sure that wasn’t his real name, but it was what he chose to go by) looked through the class of assembled young students. They ranged in actual age dramatically, given the varying maturity rates of different species. But for the most part, the class the heavy-set humanoid with dark green skin and pronounced orc-like tusks was teaching would be considered sixth grade or very early middle school. Some were younger than that, even as far as the maturity rate of their species went. But that was a fair general estimation. 

Perched on her seat around the middle of the class, Tabbris was quiet until a foot gently kicked the back of her leg. She turned slightly to see the boy behind her, a young Menmeran (frog-like humanoid who naturally grew to have quite pronounced muscles) named Gleeger. He whispered, “I know that look. You know this, you should answer.” 

“But it’s not fair,” Tabbris whispered back. “I know it because Seosten memorize everything and he mentioned it at the beginning of the semester. It’s like cheating. I have to give everyone else a chance.”

Even as she whispered that, Hubert Hobart pointed to the young Prevenkuat (two-headed humanoid hyena) sitting near the back of the room with their hand up. “Kahrsa? You had something you wanted to say?” 

The two canine-like heads faced one another, quietly bickering in whispers about which of them was right. Then they faced forward. The female head announced, “I think the tribe was called Aleshkashkah.” 

“And I think it was called Ellifkahkesh,” the male head put in. “The name of the town he went to after that, once he finally got off the island, was Aleshkashkah.” 

“Well, it seems we have a bit of debate,” Hubert noted while taking a few more steps until his quite plump form was at the front of the room once more. “Tabbris, can you tell us which one of them is right?” 

Flushing a bit at the realization that the man was aware she already knew the answer, Tabbris fidgeted a bit in her seat before offering, “Um, he’s right, it was Ellifkahkesh. That was the tribe. But Aleshkashkah wasn’t really the name of the town, it was the name of the family that met him when he got there. So… so they were both names of groups he met, just at different times.” 

“Very good, thank you, Tabbris,” Hubert confirmed with a broad smile. He gestured to the Prevenukuat. “And very good for both of you as well. A gold-worthy answer. But now let’s get back to poor Feutar himself. When he arrived on the island, there was a bit of a familiar surprise waiting for him. Who can tell me which of his former wives was already there, hmm?” 

Class went on that way, before eventually ending. Which meant it was time for lunch. Tabbris shifted off her seat, already planning to simply check and see what Flick was having. But a hand found her arm, and she looked over to see Kahrsa. Both their male and female heads were looking at her, the latter speaking up. “Can you sit with us today? We need help with some of these names before the test.” 

Gleeger the Menmeran gave a hurried nod. “Me too.” Behind him a few others spoke up in agreement. 

“Uhh, I don’t–umm, yeah, I can try.” Tabbris was blushing a bit at the attention. 

Even as she said that, the girl felt someone else step up beside her. Kisea, the young, Asian-looking Seosten girl she had first met alongside several others way back when she and Flick had been taken in by Athena in Seosten space. “I can help too,” the other girl announced. “Um, if you want.” 

Relieved, Tabbris nodded hurriedly. “Uh huh. We can help together, right? Right?” She looked to the others who had come to her in the first place. 

“Right,” Kahrsa’s male head cheerfully replied. “We’re not gonna argue about having more help. Especially more perfect memory Seosten help.” There were a few murmurs of agreement to that. 

“O-okay,” Tabbris, still a bit taken aback by people her own age wanting to spend time with her, found herself smiling a little. “But umm, we definitely need to get lunch first. I still can’t believe how hungry you get when you’re not possessing someone all the time!” 

Even as those words left the girl, her eyes widened and her hand was covering her own mouth as her face turned pale. What if they got mad about the reminder of what her people could do, about what they did all the time? What if they didn’t want to talk to her anymore? What if–

The silence that had followed was broken by a laugh from Gleeger before he spoke up. “I wish I could hide inside someone else so I didn’t get hungry all the time. Maybe I could lose weight that way.” 

His words made a few other people laugh as well, before he gestured. “Come on, let’s get food before poor Tabbris wastes away.” 

And with that, they all walked toward the cafeteria together. Tabbris found herself caught up in the crowd, moving right alongside Kisea. 

She would let Flick know she wasn’t going to see her for lunch today. 

*******

Thousands of years ago, in Rome

Stepping through the door of the villa into the square patio beyond, the cloaked figure paused almost imperceptibly. They clearly caught sight of the other figure waiting for them near the exit to the street, yet gave no verbal acknowledgement for the moment. Instead, they turned to look back the way they had come. A portly man in heavy robes stood there, hand extended with a sack of coins that jingled as his arm shook from emotion. “It is not as much as you deserve–”

“I require no payment,” the cloaked figure insisted while making no move to accept the sack. “for correcting betrayment. Should you wish to show gratitude, there are many in need of food. Take your funds to the unfortunate, for their hunger is truly importunate.”  

The man paused briefly at that before giving a short nod as he lowered the bag of coins. “It shall be done in your name. Thank you, thank you for aiding my daughter. If you had not come–” 

“Yet I did, and she will recover,” came the response. “Though I bid you say you love her. To the child in question, is my suggestion. She has come through danger so harrowing, yet her time as a child is narrowing. Embrace these moments you have left, afore they fall to time’s theft. She is your daughter, see what this has taught her.” 

Without another word, nor a moment’s pause to see what the man would say, the figure turned to leave once more. They passed the woman waiting for them while remaining silent on her way through the archway leading to the street. For a few moments, they simply walked along the dark road, the city illuminated by lamps along the buildings as well as the high moon and stars overhead. 

Finally, once the two had walked together for almost a minute in silence, the cloaked figure spoke. “How many times have you returned, to push for what you have not earned?” After a brief pause, they added, “Lest this has all been in jest, and I am to be possessed.” 

Snorting, the blonde woman moved up to walk alongside them, though still out of arm’s reach as a matter of politeness. “As I said the first time I tracked you down, Hecate, your reputation precedes you. I am not foolish enough to believe I could win such a battle of the minds.” 

“So you have said,” Hecate allowed, before pausing in their walk to turn their head that way, “yet still not fled.” Even in the dim light, their mismatched blue and green eyes were visible, as were the long curls of dark hair escaping the heavy hood that cast shadows over a face that was equal parts beautiful man or handsome woman. 

Meeting their gaze, the blonde woman pointedly replied, “My name is Sariel. And yes, I am a Seosten. We both know what that means, what my people do. But as I said, I am not here for any of that. This is a personal matter. No one knows I’ve come to visit you, and they will continue to not know. I need your help. Me, personally. Not them.”

Lifting their chin, Hecate regarded her silently for several long seconds before speaking. “You wish me to believe, as you cling to my sleeve, that your captain has not sent you, to make me assent to, teaching you my ways, through all mental maze.” 

“Yes,” Sariel confirmed without breaking eye contact. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Puriel doesn’t know I’m here. My own brother doesn’t know. I haven’t told anyone. What I’m asking for has nothing to do with our mission here. Nothing at all. You have my word.” 

A very faint, unamused smile played at the face of the cloaked figure, before Hecate replied, “Some would say that such a word was meaningless. Your people’s reputation being thus. Yet I know of you, Sariel, Diana, or Artemis. And if it is your vow, that I may not so quickly dismiss.” They paused yet again, seeming to consider their next words before turning to walk once more. “Despite my lingering doubt, you have convinced me to hear you out. But kindly be quick, and I loathe any trick.”  

Moving to follow after them, Sariel gave a quick nod. “Yes, of course. I– I come to learn from you, Hecate. Not for the benefit or purposes of my people as a whole, but… but for my mother.” The words came through a thick lump in the woman’s throat before she forced it down and continued. “Everyone on this planet says that there is no one who knows more about working with mental magic and helping people with their memories than you. My people are experts in their own right, given… given everything we do. And I have put a lot of research into it. But I have never heard of my people being able to do the… level of work others claim you are capable of. If half of what I have heard is true, I believe you might be the only person who can help me.” 

Hecate was silent at first, as they walked past several buildings. They were clearly taking a moment to decide how much they were ready to believe, before giving a single nod for the woman to go on. “It is your mother for whom you request aid, if the truth you have not betrayed.”

“Yes,” Sariel confirmed. “My… mother. Her name is Korsmea. A long time ago, many centuries in the past, she was inflicted with a magical curse which my people can do nothing to heal. This curse affects her mind, her memories. It makes her think she’s somewhere else in her past, somewhen else. She wakes up and thinks it’s a thousand years ago and she’s in the middle of an infiltration mission on a desert planet, instead of sitting inside the mental hospital. She’ll get lunch and in the middle of the line, she’ll suddenly think she’s a child again, back in the orphanage. It changes several times a day, she’s just convinced that she’s at some other point in her past. She doesn’t remember where she is, what’s happened to her. She just–” Folding her arms protectively against her own stomach, Sariel finished with a quiet, “She’s been that way since before I was born. I remember her trying to hold on whenever I was with her. She did her best, but she couldn’t stop the… she couldn’t keep her memories. She tried so hard to be herself with me. She always tried to remember. And now I haven’t been around her for so long, I don’t know how… how she’s doing. But I know she needs help. And my people can’t do it. They’ve been trying for centuries and haven’t been able to do it. They can’t fix it.” 

Hecate’s voice had softened, as they stopped walking and turned to face the woman. “Your people are not the sort to ask for aid from an outsider. Most would demand any relief I could provide her. I first dismissed your request to speak, believing you were as much of a sneak. Yet perhaps I judged in haste, and you are not indeed two-faced. I am sorry to hear of your mother’s plight, that is not what I thought to learn this night.” 

“I know my people have done many bad things,” Sariel quietly murmured, meeting their gaze. “I’m not asking you to forgive that, or work with us as we do anything else. But I need your help. You’re the only person who can teach me how to work with memories enough to… maybe, someday help my mother. Please.” 

“And if what I know cannot erase the curse which afflicts her?” Hecate pressed. “Where will you go next, in this quest for an elixir?”  

“I don’t know,” Sariel answered honestly. “But anything you teach me could be useful. Even if you don’t know how to remove the curse itself, I can… I can build off what you know. I can learn from you and then practice. I don’t care if it takes me another thousand years or more, I have to try to help my mother. I have to try to give her mind back.” 

One last moment of consideration passed, before Hecate finally bowed their head in acceptance. “I shall push you away no longer. Your will is truly stronger. If aiding your mother’s condition is possible, to refuse would be far from ignoscible. Yet I must firmly tell you this, my aid is for you, not this war’s abyss. Do not send more of your people seeking trinkets and teachings, I will ignore all such pleas and beseechings. If you are my student, so shall it be. This changes not reality. I accept your words as presented, yet your people oft prove demented. My lessons are for you alone, not for your captain or any upon a throne.” 

“Yes, I promise,” Sariel assured them. “I won’t send any of my people to you. I won’t tell them that you’ve taught me anything, or even that I found you. This is between you and me.” 

After meeting her gaze for another few seconds of judgment, Hecate turned to walk once more. “Then let us speak more of this curse. 

“It may take much time to reverse.”

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Interlude 10B – Committee Meeting (Heretical Edge 2)

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A/N: For those who do not read Summus Proelium to have already gotten this notice, the non-canon chapter for Heretical Edge was released over the weekend and can be found right here. Wanna see Haiden end up in the world of superheroes? Feel free to check it out!

Deep within an ancient forest, whose trees had stood since before humanity had truly understood the concept of civilization (though that understanding had yet to come for many), a small clearing held twelve figures, who stood in a perfectly formed circle facing one another. Each remained equidistant apart by several feet, far enough that they could all stretch their arms in every direction without coming close to touching one another. The figures stood in pitch darkness. Not even the moon or stars penetrated this clearing despite their existence and the clear sky. Yet despite the lack of any actual illumination, each of the twelve gathered there together could see one another as perfectly as though they had been standing in broad daylight. 

“You should have called the rest of us in.” At the eleven o’clock position, Litonya’s voice spoke up, holding traces of disgust and admonition. “Defeating the Necromancer was a triumph. Yet allowing the traitors to do the bulk of the work, then gathering them up once the deed was done? That would have been a master stroke. Ending both threats in one fell swoop.” 

Directly across from the ancient Native American woman, at the five o’clock position, Edward Teach spoke up. “Why does it not surprise me that the concept of honor entirely eludes you?” 

Geta, who stood to Litonya’s left in the exact twelve spot, gave a low and humorless chuckle that filled the pitch-black space around them. “Are we to be lectured on honor by the old pirate? What’s next, shall we look to Calafia for an explanation of the Bystander staryacht program?” 

Calafia herself, who stood at the six o’clock spot straight across from the old Roman Emperor, spoke in a dark voice of her own. “Perhaps your jibes would strike home more if you knew they referred to such things as spaceships, not staryachts.” She gave a slight smile, teeth visible to all around her. “Just a suggestion. Knowing less than I do about such a subject does tend to detract from your overall point.” Pausing pointedly, she added in a curious tone, “Which was?” 

One of their two newest members, the gigantic (he topped out at a full seven feet) bear of a man called Antaeus, with his thick dark mustache, long dark hair peppered with gray, and piercing gaze, spoke up from his position to Geta’s left at one on the clock. “His point,” he rumbled in a voice that was boiling over with derision and impatience, “was that we don’t need to hear about honor and loyalty and whatever the fuck from some old pirate bastard. What we need to do is talk about why this whole rebellion thing is still a problem after we could’ve put a stop to it.” 

His words were met by a scoff from Percival. The former knight was standing to Calafia’s left, at seven o’clock and across from Antaeus. “So you people are suggesting that we respond to the Rebellion’s aid in defeating one of the most evil, monstrous threats that has ever faced humanity, by betraying and descending upon them in an ambush once they were exhausted. What a remarkably brilliant way to demonstrate our virtues as the true saviors of our people.” 

Sigmund, the enormous ancient Norseman, made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, spitting at his own feet from where he stood at three o’clock. “Betray? You wanna talk about betrayals, nobleman? Those fucking rebels are the gods damned traitors, and they deserve anything they get.” He jabbed a finger that way, his voice darkening even more. “Let’s be clear. This ain’t Camelot. And I don’t see any King Arthur around anymore. We’re here to protect humanity, not get praise and play shining beacons of light and goodness. You see the monsters out there. You know what we’re dealing with. You know what those things are gonna do when they see the opportunity these traitors are handing them. They’ll help tear our entire society apart, break us, and turn humanity into their feasting grounds. You wanna make sure that doesn’t happen? Then we have to stop the traitors soon. Whatever it takes. Even if that means doing the dirty shit that makes us look like the bad guys. We end it, period.” 

From the eight o’clock position to Percival’s left, Sophronia cleared her throat. “And in so-doing, undoubtedly drive even more of our own people away as they see the depths to which we are willing to stoop. Do you not see how the simple factual information of how we acted to end the previous rebellion has driven even more potential allies to be our enemies? You cannot end this sort of situation with a hammer. You cannot force every person to be too afraid of rebelling, and still count on them to stand against true evil. You cannot put a whip to the backs of those we are supposed to stand shoulder to shoulder with. It will not work. It cannot work.”

“You’re right.” That was Ruthers, who stood to Litonya’s right at ten o’clock. “The worse we can be perceived as acting, the more it will push others to join the Rebellion. Especially with their… allied Strangers playing nice. If those on the fence between our two sides see Strangers behaving honorably for the Rebellion while we act as monsters, it will tear our society apart even more than it already has been.” 

To his right (and Sophronia’s left), Davis Neal, who was dressed in a modern black suit rather than his usual lumberjack outfit (he’d even shaved his beard, making the man look almost unrecognizable), raised an eyebrow toward the man beside him while speaking in an even voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were almost sympathizing with them, Gabriel.” 

His words were met by a sharp glare from the man in question. “Hardly, Davis. I am not sympathizing with traitors. But nor am I blind to the mistakes of the past. I see how those among us have reacted to the flood of information given to them by Sinclaire’s spell.”

“Speaking of which.” The next pointed words came from the handsome Asian woman known as Jue, who stood at the two o’clock spot to Antaeus’s left. Once everyone’s attention was on her, she continued. “It occurs to me that our entire purpose behind recruiting and promoting our other newest member was to handle that particular situation.”

“Yes,” Davis agreed, looking across the circle to the sole remaining figure, who had yet to speak. “That’s what we got her for, and as far as I can tell, there has been no actual movement on that point. Or am I mistaken? Perhaps she can address that?”

The question was met with a moment of silence, as all attention moved that way to follow her gaze. Finally, the single newest member of the Committee straightened. The crimson hood with gold trim that had covered their head to leave their face in even deeper (supernatural) shadows than the already extant darkness fell back to reveal an olive-skinned figure of dark, curled hair and mismatched eyes, one green and the other blue. It was impossible, whether through a glance or extended evaluation, to entirely discern the sex of the person. They were either a quite handsome woman or a beautiful man, a fairly androgynous figure, all told. 

The newcomer spoke toward Davis in a voice that possessed a remarkably dream-like, echoey quality. “I am not he, nor she, but they. On this, I insist no sway.” 

“But there’s still only one of you, right?” Antaeus put in as the Committee’s other newest admission. “You’re not keeping some kind of rabbit in your pants or something, magician? Sorry, I just don’t know how to keep up with all this new shit.”

Regarding their fellow newcomer coolly, the cloaked figure replied, “You are no older than I, and what I am has always been. There are those who pretend we don’t exist, whether now or way back when.” 

Davis cleared his throat, shooting a glance toward the larger man before speaking. “Let’s try to focus on the matter at hand, huh? Jue’s right, we did recruit and promote our newest friend here for a specific purpose. One which… they are supposed to be quite adept at. Perhaps they can explain the situation?” 

Beside the androgynous figure, Teach spoke calmly. “They wanna know why you haven’t given us the keys to mind-fuck our entire population, Hecate. Cuz that worked out so well the last time.”

Litonya sharply interrupted, “No one is suggesting any… mind-fuckery.” She over-enunciated the last word, making her distaste for the tone apparent. “In fact, we specifically involved her–them,” she corrected belatedly, “to prevent the mental manipulation that Sinclaire has already engaged in.” 

Geta spoke in agreement, “That was the point, wasn’t it? We needed help erasing the spell that Sinclaire put on the Edge so we don’t get any more nasty surprises.” 

That had been an unpleasant realization, to find that not only had Gaia’s spell filled the minds of every living Crossroads or Eden’s Garden Heretic with her assorted collection of propaganda about the Rebellion and everything the loyalists had done to stop them, but it also did the exact same thing for all new recruits. Every time a person either went through the Lighthouse or ate one of Garden’s apples, their heads were flooded with that same rush of information. It was cheating, is what it was. Gaia Sinclaire, despite literally being magically frozen and utterly incapable of interacting with the outside world, was still managing to twist the minds of Crossroads students. If some of them hadn’t been so frustrated with the woman, they would have admired her for that. And some admired her anyway. 

Hecate spoke again, their voice still retaining its echoey/distant sound that made those who heard it feel as though they were listening through a dream. “Your requests have been clear. You seek a return to yesteryear. A wish to see Morgan’s magic revoked. A pity, such effect may not be retroact?” 

Shaking his head with a grunt, Geta flatly retorted, “We want you to use that mental magic you’re such an expert at to turn off Gaia’s spell. Stop it from interfering with our new recruits. They don’t need to get… all of that shoved into their heads right from the start, before we can even ease them into things. They are students. Don’t know why people keep romanticising how much the old traitor actually cares about the kids when she’s shoving magical propaganda in their heads. Seems to me if she actually cared about them she’d leave the kids out of it.” 

Ruthers cleared his throat, arms folded across his chest as he pointedly put in, “Her reasoning is immaterial. The point is, we need the spell either removed or modified. And you’ve now had weeks to examine it with the power boost being a member of the Committee provides. Tell us, is that something you can do? Can you erase the spell Gaia created so we can create new Heretics without shoving all that propaganda in their heads at the same time?” 

After a brief moment of silence, Hecate inclined their head before answering. “Such is perhaps possible. Yet it is your people who are suasible. Such efforts may spare the innocence of newer recruits, but the words are out there, and erasure never refutes.” 

“In other words,” Teach translated, “erasing the information isn’t going to make it magically better. Maybe you can stop them from having all the information about the Rebellion shoved into their heads the moment you put them through the lighthouse, but then what? You think they won’t find out about the Rebellion another way? Older students will talk. Other adults will talk. You think we don’t have Rebel sympathizers within the school right now, people who agree with them to one level or another but didn’t leave for whatever reason? Because if you do, you’re a fool.” 

Litonya started to respond to that, but Ruthers spoke up first. “I believe we’re all well-aware that this is a losing prospect. We need to get ahead of the curve and tell the students the story from our point of view, not allow Gaia’s words to get to them directly. We need to tell them that there are those who think… who believe differently, but they’re being manipulated.” 

“I’m sure that’ll go well,” Percival retorted in a dry voice. Shaking his head in obvious distaste, he sighed before turning to their newest member once more. “You said you can stop Gaia’s spell, turn it off? How long is that going to take? And what do you need to pull it off?” 

Hecate answered simply, their voice rising just a bit so that the ever-present echo grew to surround the assembled group throughout the clearing. “What is needed is time and much work. Fortunately, such ought not to irk. The spell’s damage for these students is wrought. Now a year to have a solution be sought.”  

“Yeah, you’ve got some time,” Sigmund confirmed with a grunt. “Personally, I’d prefer to get it dealt with sooner rather than later. But whatever. Do your job. What about the other business?” 

“There’s still no sign of Elisabet,” Sophronia announced. “And no indication of how or why she disappeared. She’s been entirely cut out of the Committee link. Whether that means she’s dead or not, I don’t know. But she was alive when the link was severed, we’ve put that much together. Beyond that, we have nothing, still. Months of investigation, and we have nought to show for it.” 

The heavy sigh in response to her words seemed to come from all of them at once, though it was Calafia who spoke. “She hasn’t left to join the Rebellion, we’d know about that by now. And they haven’t killed her. We would… know about that as well.” 

“What, then?” Jue demanded. “Some other player has stepped onto the board, only to remove one of our members with us having no clues of the who or how?” 

“The bodysnatchers, perhaps,” Geta put in. “It’s possible Elisabet found out more about them than they expected. Maybe they tried to take her and it went wrong, so they had to eliminate whatever was left.” His words were matter-of-fact, ignoring the looks he drew from a few of the others. 

“If she is alive, she will be found,” Litonya put in, sounding impatient that they were even bringing it up. “Continue putting resources toward locating her. In the meantime, there is still the pressing issue of the Rebellion. Which, it must be stated again, could have been ended by now had our people been alerted in time. I have heard that there were already those among the few who were brought there who were ready and willing to do so, yet were stopped.” Her eyes were on Ruthers to her right. 

With a sigh, the man shook his head. “I will not stand here and defend my choices again and again, Litonya. It would have been wrong to taint the victory over the necromancer with a betrayal. They are our own people. If we want to change their minds, we need to change them, not wait for them to be worn down fighting a battle against a greater evil and then take advantage. We will fight this war properly. If they engage us, we will defend ourselves. We will continue to hunt the monsters, and if the rebellion gets in the way, we will deal with them. But I will not be party to that sort of underhanded tactics against our own people.” 

“Is this a good time to bring up that we still have the option of the blood curse?” Sigmund started. “It would–” 

“No.” That was Ruthers, the single word snapped. “We are not going to use magic to enslave our own people.” 

Before responding to that, Sigmund and Litonya exchanged glances. The man moved his gaze around the circle to see the reactions of everyone present. Hecate remained impossible to read and a nearly complete unknown. But of the others, it appeared that the only ones who were for such a measure were himself, Litonya, Antaeus, and Geta. The last had been against the blood curse during the previous war, but apparently something had changed. 

Regardless, it wasn’t enough. Ruthers had shifted his opinion, and a total of four being in favor of using the curse would never pass. Even if they tried to explain it as a temporary measure… better to drop the issue. 

“Of course not,” he settled on replying smoothly after taking in the temperature of the group. “Best to ensure we’re all on the same page, that’s all. But if we’re reduced to arguing about what we could have done differently after the necromancer’s death, and have no further real information on Elisabet, I think we’re about done here for now.” 

There was a murmur of agreement, a few last exchanged words, and then the group broke apart. Litonya, Geta, Antaeus, Ruthers, Davis, Jue, Sigmund, and Hecate moved off together before splitting into smaller groups to begin leaving. 

Which left Sophronia, Percival, Calafia, and Teach standing alone, watching the group go. 

“We’re outnumbered,” Percival noted after ensuring they weren’t being spied upon. 

“At least they don’t have enough to push for the curse,” Teach pointed out. “Not sure what we’d have to do then.” He looked over to Calafia, adding, “What about your half-siblings? Any word from them?” 

The dark-skinned woman, in turn, offered him a slight smile. “According to Alexander and Cleopatra, the rebel Gardeners are still attempting to make their liberated vines work properly. There was an… issue with our friend deep under the sea.” 

That drew a collection of grimaces from all four, just as the approach of another drew their attention that way. After a moment, the approaching figure emerged from the surrounding trees to reveal themselves. 

“Hecate,” Sophronia greeted the newest Committee member in a faintly cautious tone. “You’ve returned. Done speaking to the others so quickly? Let me guess, they want you to use your mind magic to find out where the rest of us stand. And what we might be doing.”

There was a brief pause before the androgynous figure offered a simple nod. Their voice was dry. “They spoke, of course, only hypothetically.” The tone of their words in that last bit was tinged with amusement, a clear quote from the others. “And, in their eyes, always empathetically.” 

Clearing his throat, Percival spoke up carefully. “You’ve had time now, what do you think?” 

Hecate met his gaze, their own mismatched eyes studying him briefly before casually responding, “You were right, to allow your rivals to recruit me. They have given their trust absolutely. To their eyes I am working to erase Morgan’s magic. So sad, their assumptions prove tragic. This thing you ask will, in time, come to pass.”  

Teach let out a sigh of relief then. “You can really do it? I mean, I know you’re good, but it’s asking a lot.” 

“Morgan has opened the route,” came the response, “with the spell she brought about. Her magic touched the minds of all connected to that power, all of which I am now told to scour. The work I do to end the effect will do far more than they suspect. It will cease the feeling of fear and rage, stuff such manipulations in a cage. I will mute the urge to kill, to hunt. But not, perhaps, to be affront.” 

“They’re saying what I believe they’re saying, right?” Sophronia carefully asked, her voice quiet. 

“Yes,” Percival confirmed. “The others think Hecate’s working with the Edge to undo Gaia’s spell. They’re really using the opening to pass another effect through it. One to dampen the sensation all our people get when they see an Alter. If it works, Bosch Heretics won’t get the Stranger sense anymore, and Alters won’t get a sense when they see us either. 

“And maybe, just maybe, if we don’t have a fucking soundless voice screaming in our heads about what a threat the thing we’re looking at is, some of us might just have to start talking to each other.”

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