Another meeting, great. Those had only increased in frequency in the recent time and I didn't like it. Any other part of the Tower had a lot more fun things I could do, even if it was just invisibly stalking some technician. Here in the meeting room I had to stay visible and at least somewhat responsive and since I was part of the Entity's "inner circle", as they called it, I was expected to show up consistently.
Currently I was sitting in a chair between two other inner circle members, to my right was the Ender and to my left was Glibby, Glibby the Ape as his full name or title went. Well, he tried to bear it as a title, but it had the stink of a nickname that he couldn't quite mask beneath his regal poise and gallons of perfume. The Ender was still badly beaten from her fight against the general, prominent lightning-shaped scars now visible across her face.
I couldn't help but feel slightly bad for her, I was only mostly a heartless bastard... on top of being a phantom that feeds on fear. Mortal emotions did have a tendency to worm their way into the minds of my kind as we aged. However I didn't need to listen to that tiny voice in my head to know that the Ender was in a precarious position. Her role as primary military leader placed a lot of responsibility on her and with that came the ire of everyone else once she inevitably made a mistake. Glibby was especially happy about her failure, which he showed through remarks that were polite on the surface but brutally condescending beneath that.
In the following days Glibby's Grey Ones, a squadron of old Endlings he had practically stolen from the Ender, would probably lord it over the Ender's own troops. I chuckled. They were as much a drinking club as they were a unit. They didn't even properly do their job as wardens, which had cost me quite a sizable amount of "beloved" subjects.
No, in truth the inner circle only included Glibby because he was sent by the Silhouette as an ambassador, hostage, gift or something of the sort, I didn't concern myself with the details. The true third member of the inner circle was Marinus Bul, the terribly boring and pedantic but admittedly vital mouthpiece and "lawyer" of the Entity. He sat to Glibby's right and was currently looking through some sort of notebook.
The important players were all here with Marcus from Command and Control already waving a pointing device around wildly and occasionally handing off to Issa from Dimensions and that dimensional cartographer Clark Belmont.
Other than that, the table was almost fully seated with the notable exception being the throne that the Entity usually occupied. Another important absence was the scientist who had accompanied the Ender during her mission, Dr.… Mercury, yeah, right. That was her name. Apparently her magical counterpart Archmage Wisp would answer in her stead, however everyone knew where the actual competence was in that duo.
As to where she was, I had some insider knowledge, and by that I mean I stalked her a bunch. She got quite obsessed with the thing we found in the village and apparently she was instructed to look into it by the Entity directly, with priority above the machine no less. Which brings me back to my new favorite subject: The Entity's fear.
I could get a morsel of everyone in that room's fear just by throwing my head back and breathing in. I knew them all well enough to know the taste by rote. The Ender had the coppery taste of high expectations - of what would happen if she returned home defeated. Glibby the unique savour of a specific person from his past. Bul the succulent tang of fearing death beneath a million more banal anxieties. Marcus: the Void. Issa: burning. Wisp: his mother or poverty (depending on the day). All of these were well familiar to me - as they should be, feeding on and knowing fear was my function in this world.
The Entity was not.
Ever since I entered its service, the Entity had betrayed not even the slightest concern. Reality was a mere bump in the road on the way to its objective. It wasn't even like the taste of water, that at least had a texture. It wasn't like breathing air. It was as though the air had been knocked out of the lungs of the world where it stood. The Entity was an absence. A suffocation. And while others of my kind had ignored it, feared it on these grounds, that was mere short-sightedness. I saw the terror it could engender in peoples, nations, worlds. It was like an empty god. And I told myself I would be there to ride the wave it would create and I would feast.
Then, something happened that I hadn't believed possible. Something in that village - that insignificant collection of houses and shops - had made the Entity afraid. It had hurt it in some small way it hadn't considered. Now, it hardly left its chambers, and had its manifestations patrolling the site of the problem.
As it gazed upon the little wound made upon the world, I tasted a strange sort of fear coming off my employer. It wasn't as nourishing as mortal fear to be sure, but there was something sophisticated about it. The same way mortals desired to taste expensive spirits just to feel wealthy, I yearned for another taste of that elixir.
The Ender and the scientist were the only ones that had seen its cause and they were tight-lipped, but somehow the escapees had done it. I wasn't sure which one - the wizard, the witch, the warriors, maybe even old Tyron - but I would have to conduct some research once we found them again. One of them, a shepherd called Fristad who hadn't been in Bul's omniscient notebook, was weak. Something had held him under its thumb before, and he would be pliable again. I looked forward to squeezing what I could out of him almost as much as I anticipated the fear of my master.
But there was something beyond mere yearning.
I had caught a glimpse of something more within the fear. Of another such wound, that the Entity desperately wanted to hide. Pretending to be healed, the wound festered somewhere in its chambers. Somewhere, in a room plated with obsidian and bronze, a tiny distortion trembled atop a throne. And there I might find the source of its fears. And in that source, perhaps an opportunity awaited. For if empty gods could still feel fear, how high could fear itself ascend?
I know I want to talk to Kay the second the vote is read. I see a look of anger in his eyes that cannot be his own. Not that I know him too well, but it's a look of anger I'm familiar with. It's how I always imagined the Book's facial expressions. It wanted the leadership. That was obvious already - it's why I didn't vote for Kay - but seeing its anger on his face makes me aware of the more human consequences of its lust for power.
With me it just had a vessel which it had to make powerful. With Kay it saw an opportunity to grasp at power. He got less than half the votes Fire did, and he really seemed to be trying with those speeches. It will be angry.
Apparently he's trained to resist mental manipulation, but I know the nightmares it is capable of conjuring. He at least needs some solidarity. I shoot Fire a pleading look that I'm not sure if he notices.
Please, I entreat, Let him leave this with something to show for it.
Relief washes over me when Fire grants him second-in-command, but I know that will only placate it so much.
So, as everyone leaves the room, I follow Kay and ask him for a moment to talk alone. He and Warnado exchange a look. The kid looks worried and I fail to make eye contact with Amanda as she turns to face me. I remember the terror the Book persuaded me to inflict in her. To break her. To make her our… its slave. The colour of youthful enthusiasm has started to return to her cheeks but she still has a certain paleness.
The metal vest with all its crystals feels loose upon me, and I wonder what I might be thinking if it were gone. My lungs feel paradoxically tight and my breathing constricted. I want to hug the vest against me and never let it get away. Never leave my mind vulnerable again.
After an agonizing few seconds, Kay folds the corners of his mouth downward in acceptance and leads me down a hallway and into a storage room. He starts going through a chest of armour, picking out lightweight diamond pieces.
"So, what is it you wanted to talk about, Fristad?" He asks distantly, his head still in a chest and his hands still rummaging.
The scrape and clatter of metal being moved is nearly deafening, so I wait for a pause in his movements before I talk. After a few false starts I manage:
"You know, I just wanted to check in. You looked pretty pissed about losing the election if you don't mind my noticing."
"Eh," he grunts laxly. "You win some, you lose some."
More clattering. Silence otherwise. I'm going to need a better approach. Normally I'd take this as a cue to leave a douche alone, but I try to tap into the optimism and empathy I've been making an effort to exercise since getting rid of the book.
"Listen," I try again. "We are alone, alone, right? You can tell me."
He turns around, looks me dead in the eye and chuckles.
"Don't worry," he says, clapping me on the shoulder with surprising warmth and sincerity. "The book and I have an arrangement."
He returns to rummaging and I struggle not to feel reassured.
"An arrangement?" I cock an eyebrow.
"Yes," he says, comparing two boots. "I want to get strong enough to beat the Entity and defend my friends once I get home. The book wants to accumulate power and strength. Our goals are fairly well-aligned. Worst comes to the worst, I decide I want to retire once I get back home and help the book find a better host. All works out."
I'm surprised by how genuinely unconcerned he is, and it stokes the flames of worry in my chest.
"Okay," I begin, snarking. "I won't worry about the crazy possessed artifact that was inside my head controlling my every act for the last age." I clap my hands against my thighs. "It's just that easy, I guess."
He turns around and sits on the lip of the box.
"Fristad," he says. "Believe me, this isn't a slight against you. You're a civilian, not used to this sort of thing. Me? This is nothing new. Endlings worked on me for weeks. I didn't crack, because I had the proper training. I'm glad you're free of its influence, and don't mistake this for me defending it. It's done some reprehensible things, I'm sure, but this is a difficult time. Like our new commander said, it's survival we're fighting for here. The book gets that too. Besides, if there's the slightest problem I'll just borrow your vest and get Shadow to bully it until it starts toeing the line again."
He winks, excuses himself and carries his new-found armour set off. I linger in the room a little while. I sigh. I wander back to the atrium. Jennifer's gone out hunting by now for sure. It's a pity. There's a dark cloud hanging over my thoughts that going out hunting with her might lift. Steve and Jennifer have been such a help through this whole thing and I love them for it. At the same time, I can't lean on them too much. With the book gone, I had no excuse, it is time to figure out my own flaws and fears without either imposing them on others or attributing them to external forces.
I go into the library and immediately see Destiny.
"Well," I surrender. "A little shared grousing is good for us all."
Things have been weird between Destiny and me, not that they were ever normal. I met her maybe an hour before David mortally wounded himself fighting off the Ender, and she'd been grieving ever since. Then, while the book was trying to break Amanda, Destiny walked in on me and she was the first to figure out my involvement. In fact, she came rather close to burning me alive in front of the whole group when I tried to gaslight her out of what she saw. Shortly after I was liberated from the book's influence and she vanished off with Fire to build this shelter. And since I've arrived she's been avoiding everyone, first by hunting, then by recoiling in here. All that's to say there has never been time for the much-deserved apology. Now, here she is, alone and pretending to read a book.
Please don't judge me too harshly for missing the opportunity to make a fool of myself by unloading a long and rambling apology with no warning. I just really need to vent.
"Do you ever get closure on something only to realise that closure has opened up a whole load of other questions?"
Destiny looks up with the enthusiasm of a subsiding house, flicking a strand of brown hair away from her eyes. I don't expect her to respond - like I said she's been avoiding everyone, even blanking non-essential conversation - but she does. Maybe the election has reignited something in her.
"What sort of questions?"
After the shock wears off I immediately launch back into talking, pulling up a chair.
"What do I do now? Who am I now without this big thing that's been dominating my headspace for the last age? I've just wanted to get back to normal for so long I'm not even sure I know or like what 'normal' is anymore. Those sorts of questions, y'know?"
Destiny lays her book down and almost laughs - she makes one of those amused exhalations of the nostrils you make when there's nobody else around - and begins to nod.
"Yeah," she smiles. "I know that mood."
She says nothing else so I decide to seize the day and get a few more specific things out there.
"It's not that I was under that book's thumb for years or anything. It's probably not been more than a few weeks… months, maybe? It was all a bit of a blur, it's not important. It's just that, before all this I was a shepherd. I didn't have to be worried about anything other than just keeping my flock in order and making a living. Then, that nightmare with the book happened and… I've learned so much. It was awful, but I don't know if I can just return to the grindstone. If I want things to be exactly the way they were."
"Yeah," she agrees. "You feel like something needs to have changed. To make it worthwhile."
"Exactly!" I said, pointing a finger. "That's it. I think…"
"It must be even weirder with that thing still about." I'm struggling to figure out if she blames me for this before she picks up again. "I mean, you don't even get the closure of knowing it's gone for good. I imagine you were probably expecting something just a little more final than 'I guess that's not my problem anymore!'"
"How do you feel about the book?" I ask, trying to find out if there's a hope in the Nether of avoiding an apology.
"I don't trust it, honestly I really hate it, but I'm glad Kay's found a use for it," she shrugs. "If it can screw up the Ender or Glibby it can stick around. Anyway, I do get where you're coming from," a chuckle sends ripples through her speech, "David and I were reincarnated to stop Martin and the Sovereign and now that's done. It's crazy. There was this function and now it's filled so what am I supposed to do, y'know? It's so weird… but it's okay now."
I find this interesting. What's changed?
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Yeah, I was able to find someone to talk to - from my world - and suddenly it's not so bad."
She smiles and I smile back. I wonder who she found. I try to cross-reference her characteristics with anyone else in the group.
"Lucky you," I chuckle, "I've only got the book."
Destiny laughs hesitantly and weighs her words before she leans in and whispers to me. "I mean if it works it works. Technically, I'm just talking to myself out there." She laughs a little too enthusiastically for my liking and I'm almost creeped out.
"Yeah…" I say, trying to think of an excuse to get out of there.
"Oh by Notch I sound so crazy!" she falls back laughing and it's slightly less scary. She beckons me back in and says, "I found a chunk from Minera, my world. The portal there's broken but there's still some sort of connection. I can commune with my past self, Anya, when I'm there. Haven't been able to do that since I got to Nexus, usually I can't shut her up. Don't tell anyone though, I want to keep this private."
I'm still not sure if she's delusional or joking or whether this is just a thing where she comes from but I nod and assure her she can count on me. She smiles in confusion as she stands up.
"Thanks for the talk, Fristad. I think Jennifer should be far enough out for me to get there unnoticed now. Talk to you later."
Taking me totally by surprise, she hugs me. It's weird, tentative and ends quickly - I don't even get a chance to hug back - but I think I need it too. Neither of us seem to know how to touch another human after all we've been through. We both stare at each other for a few seconds, then she gives me a thumbs up and leaves.
I sit there for a while. Urist steps in.
"How're ye, Fristad? Ye well?"
I look at him and smile with something resembling wisdom.
"Oh I'm fine, it's just… Interdimensional travel is weird, Urist," I say, "Really. Freakin'. Weird."