Amiya diagnosed the Doctor with a textbook concussion, though the circumstances behind it was a mystery. Should the Doctor face amnesia for the second time, it would insult the operators who worked tirelessly to restore his memory.
Kal'tsit suppressed the thoughts. It was no time to delve into hypotheses and personal feelings. The ears whispered about a crisis in Londinium. They needed the Doctor in top form if they hope of getting out unscathed of the resulting conflicts.
But the moment she entered his office, her instincts immediately screamed that something was right. His distant gaze, the unfamiliar aura... It was as though the Doctor had transformed into a different person. Even his inflection and body languages are different when he answered her question.
Witchcraft capable of remote hypnosis is exceedingly rare. Besides the Deathless Black Snake, the Witchcraft was a lost art, and the specific conditions required for its practice make it extremely uncommon. Perhaps a deeper examination was necessary.
A sense of Déjà vu washes over me. Everything is repeating again — a sinister loop by the Dark Presence, toying with my narrative, altering it beyond recognition, erasing my words and imposing its edited script upon another story of mine that I couldn't remember writing.
'I suppose you don't recall writing this?' The question slice through my disorientation.
"...No," my voice barely audible.
'Let's make sure we're on the same page. Our focus is to find a way to reverse our conditions, defeat the Dark Presence and find you a way back to Earth.'
"Yes, that's correct." I mumble.
'There might be Originium Arts or Witchcraft capable of transferring your consciousness back to your body. But we don't know where's your physical body at nor do we know if the Dark Presence is here or how to defeat it.' The voice summarize.
I am curious about Originium Art. The term 'Art' don't sit well with me, but I decide to ask the question for another time to focus on the present..
'Is it possible that your physical body may still be trapped at the Dark Place?' The voice asks.
"Maybe." I utter, not confident with my own reply.
'Is it possible to go to the Dark Place and acquire your body?' The voice suggest.
"Next to impossible. The Dark Place is an infinite expanse, and is far larger than the ordinary universe. The "real world" is merely an island within it. I had to operate on 'dream logic' to navigate through the place. And…I don't want to go in there again, if possible." I reply.
'Can't you use your writings to make it give you what you want? To my understanding, the Dark Place is simply a medium for fictions to manifest.'
"It is not that simple. I can only nudge future events to a certain direction within the context of pre-existing story or the 'editors'— The Dark Presence will use it to its advantage. Even then, I'm not sure the change will stick. The town of Night Springs I told you earlier, all I did was put it on Earth for one night."
'What about using the people to create the ending you want?' The voice asks again.
"I can't force people to do what they normally wouldn't do. I can only give them to believe in an 'idea'."
I take a deep breath before continuing.
"My stories must follow to laws of drama. To gain something, there must be a sacrifice. The higher the stakes, the greater the price. Cause and effect. Otherwise, the Dark Presence will fill in the gaps with its own narrative."
'Law of Equivalent Exchange.' The voice remarks.
"Or plot holes." I add simply. "So, I need to know about the story that puts me here."
'Are there locations similar to Night Springs where the Dark Presence can manipulate to a certain extent?'
"Yes. The locations need to have "storied" significance."
'What do you mean?' The voice probes.
"The locations need have truth laced with fiction. Something people could suspect to be true. Something people feel strongly about. Back on Earth, there's this spot in the sea where planes occasionally vanish without a trace, sparking all sorts of rumours about aliens, ghosts, and whatnot." I explain
'I see. A few places come to mind.' The voice answers. 'Earlier, you mentioned 'the Clicker'. What specifically does it do?'
"I…actually don't know. The last time I used it, it changed the time from night to day. But the Dark Presence uses its power to change it to night again. If I have to guess, it amplifies a writing to quickly manifest rather than have it takes place after a few hundred pages in the book." I reply.
'Do you have the 'Clicker'?' The voice asks.
I rummage through the unfamiliar robe, its synthetic material an alien touch against my fingertips. "Are there secret pockets in this robe?"
'No,' the voice reply.
"Then, I don't have it on me." my voice is edging to anxiety. The weight of looming conflict pressing down on me. I hope it wouldn't be another Bright Fall or Night Springs.
'I have some theoretical solution, but it's better if we gather more evidence.' The voice remarks.
"What solutions?" I ask.
'You only need this story's full picture and the ending to alter it, correct?'
"…Maybe." I answer hesitantly.
'We must explore the "storied" locations for more manuscripts. Afterwards, we can try to come up with a plausible ending where the cost doesn't have to be paid in lives. An ending where there is another way to settle the price.'
"That could work. But why search for the manuscripts in "storied" locations?" I ask.
'Your manuscripts seem to appear near locations that could be manipulated by the Dark Presence. A location that intersects between 'reality' and Dark Place, if you will. Of course, this is just a conjecture.' The voice explains.
"This plan feels like a scripted turn in the story," I muse.
'It might seem that way but we don't have a choice.'
"So, what do we do now?" I ask.
'Take a rest. Clear your mind. It's been a while since you had a chance for that, hasn't it?'
"I can't do that. Who knows what ending Scratch might had written? The more I waste time, the more people in this place could be turned into a Taken." I whispers.
'Wake, it seems to me that Dark Presence is also bound by the rules of storytelling. If it didn't, it would've already taken over Bright Falls. Conflict needs a setup, a build-up. Besides, I believe that Kal'tsit, Amiya, and the crew on this landship are more than capable of defending themselves against the Dark Presence.
Let's trust in the flow and use this break to our advantage. It might just give us the clarity to steer the story in our favour. We've got a plan, we've got support."
"But, Deathless Black Snake? Londonium? What's the context here?" I ask, confused by the gibberish terms in the manuscript.
How did I even write this in the first place? Fantasy writing has never been my forte, so why am I in this sort of narrative? The lack of familiarity is disconcerting, and I'm struggling to make sense of it all.
'It'll all fall into place in due time. Don't force yourself to understand everything.' The voice replies.
Doubts still cloud my mind, but I find myself without a choice, and the voice is right. Taking in more information while my thoughts remain tangled will only fuel my paranoia and worsens the situation.
An information overload.
Attempting to find coherence amidst this chaos is futile despite the moment of mental clarity. But I'm not feeling the pull of sleep, so I opt to do the next best thing. "Where can I find some fresh air?" I ask.
'There's an elevator outside. You can go to the top floor from there.' The voice directs me.
I left the confines of the office. The corridors outside resemble the sleek, high-tech labs often seen in television shows. At the end of it, there's an elevator which I summons with a press of the button. I enter and ascended to the top floor.
Emerging from the elevator, the air's crisp as a gust of wind brushed past. It's night-time. The planet's two moons light up the sky, bathing the desert in ethereal glow, making it pretty magical like a scene from 'Aladdin'. I step up to the handrails near the edge.
Looking down, it hit me why the voice in my head kept calling this place a 'landship'.
I am standing on a massive moving platform on threads that is cruising through a seemingly endless desert. Despite my surrounding looks like something out of a wild mix of fantasy and sci-fi books, strangely, I feel calm.
The night's never a peaceful time. All shadows hide the Darkness and its minions. It's all kind of scary. But I couldn't feel the suffocating heavy, eerie feeling of the Dark Presence around me.
For a moment, I feel safe. I needn't to worry about making a wrong move that could result in my head being cracked open like an egg.
The bit of peace… caused the gravity of the situation to hit me all at once, like a tidal wave crashing against a fragile shore. Feelings I hadn't acknowledged surge forward, unstoppable. Thoughts race unchecked, memories and doubts intertwining in a chaotic dance. They lay bare beneath the night sky
The railing's metallic coolness beneath my trembling fingers anchors me as a I struggle to catch my breath. My chest constricts with an unfamiliar sensation. Its sudden arrival overwhelms me. In an ironic way, I sought refuge in the darkness, hoping it would conceal this unexpected breakdown, but the emotions refuse to be contained.
My vision blurs as tears welled up, a lump forming in my throat. I shut my eyes, attempting to steady my erratic breathing, but it's futile. A tear slips down my cheek, followed by another.
"Doctor, are you okay?" The voice, soft and concerned, reaches me from behind. I turn, startled, to find a woman draped in a long black gown that flowed down to her ankles. Moonlight danced on her hair, illuminating her pointed ears and the majestic, bushy blonde tail resembled that of a horse. It takes me a few seconds to realize she's addressing me.
"I-I'm okay." I stammer, the persistent hitch in my breath betraying any attempt at assurance. I swiftly brushed away the tears with the long sleeve of the unfamiliar robes, hoping to conceal my vulnerability.
The woman's concerned gaze softens, her features displaying a mixture of empathy and understanding. She takes a step closer, her movements graceful yet deliberate.
"It's alright to not be okay," she said gently. "Sometimes, the weight of responsibility can be overwhelming."
Her concern is genuine, but it's not for me. She cares for the Doctor, not the one currently controlling his body. She wouldn't understand the turmoil churning inside me, the overwhelming rush of emotions that doesn't belong to this body nor the bullshit story I couldn't remember writing leads me to this situation in the first place.
It made me think, how many people my story had indirectly killed?
""I-I appreciate it," I manage without looking at her. The moment also made me realize about my isolation. Being stuck in a foreign world with complete strangers, magnifying the sense of displacement within the body I take over. I pondered whether the voice deliberately ignored my inner thoughts or simply couldn't access them. No one would willingly give away their only advantage in a situation where they lacked control over their own body.
The tears streaming that starts to flow down my face again begins to feel foreign to me, yet I couldn't control their flow.
"But, it's just... overwhelming." I mutter under my breath.
The woman's kindness by subtly moving closer to me does not go unnoticed. But inside, I want to push her away, to scream that I need space. Yet, the weight of pretending to be this 'Doctor', concealing my true self, paralyze my tongues.
Thankfully, she reads my signals. "If you ever need to talk, Doctor, we're here for you," she says before quietly departing, her presence melts into the shadows, leaving me by myself to grapple with my thoughts in the silence of the night.
I allow the tears to flow freely, refusing to suppress them. When the sobs eventually taper off, the voice chimes in, nudging me to wipe away the traces of remaining emotion with the long sleeve of the robes.
'Margaret Nearl and the Followers would be incredible allies for us. She might not realize you're not me, but if she learns about your situation, I have no doubt she'd rush to your aid. That's the essence of Nearl, the Radiant Knight, the Beacon of Justice.'
Radiant Knight… I mull over the words, my brows creasing with thought. The phrase strikes a chord, feeling strangely important. I couldn't ignore the fact that radiance often stood against the suffocating shadows of the Dark Presence.
I'm hoping the Radiant Knight can triumph over the Darkness. But inside, I'm worried. The Darkness has its own rules, its strengths defined by what I had written. I just hope, fingers crossed, that this time around, I didn't write it to be stronger than what I faced in Bright Falls. I'm banking on those boundaries, desperately wishing that the Darkness won't force me to similar decision like before.
'Contemplation doesn't seem to do you much good. Perhaps, you should take a walk around the landship?' The voice suggests.
On cue, 'my' stomach grumbles. Then, the thought of tasting literal otherworldly food piques my interest. "Where can I eat?"
'It's past dinner; the cafeteria probably won't serve food except for those returning from a mission. But there are vending machines for a quick snack.' The voice pointed out.
"It's better than nothing. Where's the cafeteria?" I ask.
"Third Floor, West Wing," the voice reply.
As I wait for the elevator, my thoughts linger on my interaction with the horse-woman, I ask, "Doesn't it make you frustrate that I've taken control of your body?"
'I do. It's deeply unsettling for anyone to experience their body taken over without consent, being pulled into problems that are beyond my control, problems I never wanted to be involved with.
It's a fair point. I would've reacted the same way if I'm in the voice's shoes. But that thought doesn't erase the guilt I feel in my chest.
'However, let's be honest, anger alone won't resolve our issues, will it? After learning about your experiences and piecing things together, I've come to understand the gravity of your situation. Allowing you temporary control of my body, without harbouring any hard feelings, seems like the right course of action. It's the least I could do. Besides, it's possible that the solutions to your problems might also hold the key to resolving the issues on Terra.' The voice sounds melancholic. But I don't dare to question on what he meant by that.
Amidst the silence, I exit the elevator and strolls down the hallway. I find myself in a sparsely populated cafeteria. A figure draped in a black robe, goat-like horns crowning her head, caught my attention. Her presence oddly eased my mind, though I couldn't explain why.
Our eyes met briefly, and she offers a smile, to which I awkwardly responded.
Approaching the vending machine, I notice the absence of a money slot and I'm left puzzled on how to proceed. The voice quickly guides me, 'Just press the button for the food you want. It'll deduct funds automatically from my account.'
I had questions about why payment is still needed when the owner's original body seems to work here. It doesn't seem like the vending machine is maintained by a third party since it since it has similar but small Castle logos on the side, but I could sense the robed woman's penetrating gaze, preventing me from speaking my thoughts aloud. I kept my thoughts to myself, not wanting to raise suspicion from the woman.
Opting for the hamburger, I pressed the button on the vending machine. A freshly wrapped burger emerged. Surprisingly, the warmth radiating from the wrapper suggested it was just cooked
I chose a seat in a secluded corner that offered a clear view of the cafeteria's entrance and exit as precaution. Meanwhile, the robed woman sit with her eyes closed, seemingly absorbed in deep meditation.
Taking a bite, the taste takes me aback. The burger is unexpectedly rich in flavor despite being dispensed. While I half-expected something otherworldly, given my presence on an alien planet, the familiar meal reminds me of the nostalgic taste of home.
I enjoy every bite from the burger. I dispose the wrapper in a nearby bin before exiting the cafeteria. I couldn't help but sense the woman's gaze lingering on me as I made my way around the corner.
'Let's go to the garden.' The voice suggests.
"Why?" I ask.
'It might help you rest.'
"And where is the garden?" I ask.
'Go straight and you'll see arrows'
I follow the voice's instructions, following arrows pointing towards the 'Convalescent Garden'. Upon opening the door, I'm greeted by a secret oasis—a spacious garden, or perhaps better described as a greenhouse. It's alive with plants boasting fragrant blooms, filling the air with a sweet smell that wraps around me like a comforting embrace. A nearby bench that offers a view of the blossoms, calls to me. I surrender to the impulse. I sit at first, but the tranquillity beckons me to recline, and I find myself lying on my back.
I hadn't expected a transparent glass roof as I'm met with a dazzling view of twinkling stars in the velvety night sky.
It distracts me from the incoming storm.
'Relax. Once you wake up, we'll set our plan in motion,' The voice assures me.
Gradually, I feel my eyelids grow heavy, unaware that I'm drifting into sleep.