Jealousy was something that fit me like a glove. I was entrenched in it. Drowned and suffocated by it. I would look at others with envy for what I couldn't have and for skills that I could never claim for my own.

But I stopped just looking. I decided that I would grasp all that I was jealous of and make it my own. If someone did something spectacular, I would learn it, cherish it, and attempt to spit it back better than they ever could.

For me, acting and theater was the culmination of my jealousy. To become someone else in almost every way but physical. I ceased to become 'Zenith' and would then become whoever I chose. One time, in high school, I was initially cast as 'Audrey' from 'Little Shop of Horrors'. I wanted to turn that role down and pushed and pushed and pushed to be recast as Seymour instead.

To me, I could probably easily become Audrey. I might not have been able to sing as well as professional actors, or even sing semi-decently beyond copying what a song does, but I refused mostly because Audrey was not who I wanted to become. I didn't want to be the damsel in distress while the boy who auditioned for Seymour butchered and walked all over his character.

"You can't be Seymour, you're not a boy!" Is what I was told.

Halfway through rehearsals RJ, the boy who was playing Seymour, got sick. I snatched the opportunity to press again to the director, reciting all of Seymour's lines and songs better than RJ did.

I was recast as Seymour, and my understudy was recast as Audrey.

Looking back, I feel bad at how things turned out. My actions caused two people to miss out on acting because I believed I could do so much better than anyone else. RJ missed out on his chance to perform as Seymour. And his understudy missed out on the chance to become Seymour.

I don't feel bad because I regret my actions. I don't feel bad because I did a bad job. I feel bad because I don't regret it, and if I were to ever go back into acting, there's a good chance I might do the same.

I'm sorry to RJ, who got sick and I stole their spot. It might have been possible for them to come back and continue on with their role, but I rendered that impossible. I'm sorry to the understudy and the director, who got the short end of the stick because I was too pushy. I'm sorry for the next few years of the end of High School and the start of College, where my passion burnt bridges with everyone due to my selfishness.

I'm sorry to myself, for crashing and burning into a depressive slump. Because no one was left to pick up the pieces.

But I don't regret it.

This chapter is my turning point.

Never regret anything.

Chapter 14. Don't Ever Forget.

The mirror shattered. Shards of glass rained down onto my hand, slicing and cutting it as the fragments pooled on the floor like miniature blades of death.

I was furious.

I hated her. I hated her so much. I hated that stupid clone of mine.

How dare she? How dare she steal my life away? I was not a violent person, but if I were to ever get my hands on her. I would make her regret it for the rest of her life.

Jealous of me. I let out a huff of hot anger, it was some sound that mixed anger and hysterical laughter into one distorted ugly thing. Jealousy.

I hated her because she couldn't recognize everything that she had even when it was right in front of her.

What a hypocrite.

I absolutely despise hypocrites.

She did EVERYTHING she said she hated about me.

Zenith had people who cared about her. She had lifelong friends who she spent time with. People who looked out for her, enjoyed her time and were interested in what she did. Did I have that?

No. I didn't. I had no friends that I felt truly comfortable with. I had no one that looked out for me beyond surface level. Any sort of friends that I've known for years had all been scattered to the wind, lost to oblivion and faded connections in the period of time that I hated living.

How ironic was it that in the short time that I've been here, I had found new friends, new people who cared for me, discovered a world beyond my wildest dreams and even left that frozen rock that Zenith herself wanted off so badly?

Why now? Why when I just started to get my life back together?

I flexed my hand, feeling the small cuts weep as blood oozed out slowly. Nothing that would kill me.

I took a deep breath. One that filled my insides with crisp air and did just enough to cool the fire that raged in my veins. My phone was clenched in my hand, the base of it stuck in the place where a mirror had once been. I was lucid enough to not break my own hand by using it to break the mirror, which was a good sign. My phone seemed to take minimal damage as well, aside from the one corner that made contact.

My heart beat loudly as my emotions fluctuated wildly. There was a lot of unpack regarding this. I sat back down, once again using the toilet seat cover as a makeshift chair.

It was difficult to form a coherent thought that wasn't plagued by anger, but I pushed through the haze. Zenith mentioned… strings. That they were concentrated in places that the five senses would be. Did I have to physically feel for them? She did them to herself, did that mean I could as well?

I had to assume so. She also mentioned dreams of her connecting with Lynx. I've… done the same thing with that one girl codenamed Primadonna.

Right.

I took another deep breath as I started to place my hand in various areas of my body. I placed it over my other hand, wincing as it made contact with the cuts, and felt nothing. I tried again with it over my eyes, my ears, even over my mouth and still felt nothing.

Maybe… I had to think about a particular memory? But how would I find the faded strings that Zenith had described? She had two years to figure it out, although I don't know how much time she spent actually looking for it.

I could do it better than her. She was nothing.

I thought back to a particular memory. One that was seared into my mind as my ex of the time guided me through the steps of being intimate. The feeling, the sight, how sweet they smelled. What I remembered the most was how soft they were.

My hands were placed on top of each other, and I closed my eyes as I continued to focus on that touch. The more I remembered the more it felt like something was brushing against the tips of my fingers. It was just… slightly out of reach.

It felt like a feather, the tiniest, smallest feather tickling the tips of my fingers. I closed my hand on top of the other, but all it did was make that feeling more faint as the feeling of skin upon skin rose up.

So close, and yet so far.

I grit my teeth as anger started to well back up, I hated the feeling of just barely not being able to do something. I tried again, and again, with different memories each time on different parts of my body. The first time I put on my glasses and could see the world clearly again, the exhilarating feeling of finishing a performance, the thrilling rush of adrenaline as I was the last one standing in dodgeball. Mundane, normal things all brought the similar feeling of tickling just beyond my reach.

I huffed in frustration and stopped trying. Maybe I had to try with someone else first. Zenith said that she brought back someone's memories of their own daughter before she moved onto experimenting with herself.

So who could I test it with? Would it work on someone like Sam? Was memory a substance that was retained by the organic material that was called a brain or did it come from something deeper like a soul? This, of course, assumed that the mechanical suit itself was a person and there wasn't someone inside. If there was a thick layer of metal between someone and me, could I still reach their strands?

Too many questions, not enough answers.

But maybe I could experiment with Sam…. even if it was a gamble. If they recognized that I was trying something, would they just kill me? Would they even let me touch them in the first place?

No, wait. They knew I could manipulate memories, they were already aware of my status as a remembrance pathstrider. Could they-

…A sudden thought struck me with a force that had me double over in shock.

Silver Wolf had accessed my phone.

She had gone through all my notes. All my photos, and saved them to her own device. She had even specifically made a remark about my notes app.

Oh fuck.

FUCK.

No, no no no. This was terrible.

I messed up big time. The Stellaron Hunters now had definitive proof that I wasn't from this… universe or whatever the hell situation I found myself in. That I was definitely not from Belobog. That I had the potential ability to manipulate or bring up memories.

Maybe, maybe if I had shown that I had no ability to do whatever it was they wanted I'd be let free. But with what I felt just now, combined with everything that was on my phone, they had no reason to let me go.

What did they want? Why was I needed?

…And how could I turn this situation favorable?

What did I know about the Stellaron Hunters as a whole?

I knew they followed a script. I knew they followed a person named Elio, also known as Destiny's slave. I knew… that they all had individual reasons to join.

But if they followed a script, did that mean they would eventually get what they wanted? Why else would someone join the Stellaron Hunters if not for that reason?

I didn't believe in fate, or destiny, not to the degree that it controlled everything and it was this unchangeable stone monument that could never be shifted. I believed… that destiny was how we died. And that if we were all destined to die in some way, that didn't matter so long as you could choose the way you lived.

But having a script of preordained events would render my version of destiny incorrect… Unless it didn't?

It could be… that the entirety of the scripts were nothing but one big show of improvised acting. That the ending was set in place, and there were only a few key points that they had to follow. I refused to believe that every line, every interaction was scripted, especially with someone like me.

After all, if that was the case, then why was Sam so adamant against Silver Wolf playing me in the wager? To double up in tricking me into giving away my information? I would have done so without them butting in.

I swallowed as I realized my mouth was suddenly very dry. If it was just one big improv show, with key points highlighted and the end laid out cleanly…

Maybe… just maybe… I could find a way home if I worked with them.

I shook my head. No. No, bad thoughts. I had morals. I couldn't help criminals.

…I didn't even sound convincing to myself.

I stepped out of the special spatially dense magic tent-turned-house and back out into the camp. I didn't have a plan. I didn't have a goal. I didn't have a character I was playing. I just decided to let the cards fall naturally.

"I'm back." I called to Sam.

The mechanical person already had their gaze locked onto me as soon as I stepped out.

"You're bleeding." They stated simply.

I took another look at my hand that was cut up. Most of the cuts were clean enough that the sliced up skin only oozed out blood when I specifically pulled or flexed my hand. I had washed it using the bathroom, I didn't question how it had working water. I figured it was some sort of hideout they used.

"Yeah. You might need a new mirror." I responded.

They were silent as they continued to stare at me. I felt like I was looking at a reflection of myself when I had to be around someone I didn't like. The feeling was mutual buddy.

"So? Are you finally going to tell me why you need me?" I asked.

I didn't need to act or feign my confidence. I was too exhausted to care about such things. It was as if all my energy had fled my body the second my adrenaline had settled. I may have resented the fact that I was kidnapped, but my hate for Zenith ran further than that.

The Stellaron Hunters were the cause of the first actual clue that I've gotten regarding my reason and existence for being here. If I could find a way to reverse whatever happened, I would endure their demands.

"I believe we've already established the reason." Sam said. I couldn't tell if it was snidely or if it was a matter of fact like Svarog often spoke.

"I can't just blindly manipulate someone's memories." I stated. "We're going to need to go through a few things to clear up before I agree to anything."

"You'll agree eventually. It's in your best interest to help us."

"...And how so?"

"It's not that we're exactly interested in you. But rather your abilities. You simply are the path of least resistance towards accomplishing what we want. You're a variable that can be controlled."

I scowled at that. They were saying I was replaceable if I didn't follow their demands. "That doesn't answer my question."

"You have something you want don't you? Something you'd trample over everything else in the world to get. You might seem closed off, but to people like us, you're an open book."

I had to physically stop my hand from going up to my mouth in an anxious tic to chew on my nails. I hated being read so easily.

Was it really so wrong of me to be like that? I had tagged along in Belobog all because I needed to be sure to be on the radar of the Astral Express crew. There were some altruistic actions in saving Cocolia, but I had no idea if there were consequences of my actions. I started everything for one reason, to further myself.

I had abandoned Seele, who was a stranger to me despite the fact that I happened to be one of her friends. I had abandoned Natasha, who I helped out in the clinic. I had abandoned Wildfire, where I was so very clearly a member in an attempt to make the Underworld a better place.

They might have meant little to me, but I meant something to them. I trampled over their feelings to get to where I was now.

"So you're going to get me that something? You can promise that?" I stared Sam down.

"I'm not going to say more. That's not part of my script. I've given you more than enough as an apology for earlier. I'm simply here to keep an eye on you."

I chewed on my lip, wincing as I opened up the tiny wound I created earlier.

At the very least, what they said confirmed they weren't following a script that had every single action and line predetermined. Whether or not it was all one big improv show…

If it was, it'd be the greatest long-form show of improv in the galaxy.

What, exactly, did they want? I couldn't remember. Was it even said? I once again wished that I had continued to play past the initial launch patch.

"Then what are we waiting for now?"

Sam was silent for five whole minutes. I stared at them the entire time, counting in my head.

"Time's up Zenith. Good luck." Sam declared, before bursting into hot flames.

I stumbled back in fear as heat licked my face. My hands reflexively went up to cover my face as the sudden light blinded me. Sam rocketed up into the dark of the sky, like a fire that blazed overhead, flying into the void. Soon enough, they had completely disappeared from sight.

"Huh?" I said out loud, more out of shock than anything. "What?"

I looked around, trying to see if anything had changed, but I was still in the same campsite that I had initially been deposited in. The sky was the same dark void, and absolutely no one was around me.

"Is this some sort of joke?" I said out loud, in a vain attempt to check if someone was listening.

Somehow, being left completely alone with nothing but the buzzing silence of my own mind was infinitely more daunting than having my kidnapper with me. At least with Sam I had some idea of what to expect, as the Stellaron Hunters clearly wanted me for something.

But now?

Being completely alone in what I could only assume was the middle of a fragmentum zone?

I could feel the black claws of paranoia start to sink into me.

One of them would come for me. Eventually. It had to be. They said they needed me, which meant I should be safe.

…Was I safe? What if this fragmentum zone had horrific eldritch amalgamations like what Belobog had? Remnants of people turned into monsters over the course of who knew how long.

I wouldn't become like them. I refused to become like them.

But why? Why was I alone?

Was this some sort of test?

I paced around a bit more, chewing my nails as I did so. 'Good luck' Sam had said. What exactly did I need good luck for? People only said that before a test, or a trial. They had to be testing me.

But for what? There were no clues.

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I considered something else.

Maybe it was possible that Sam had gone through the notes on my phone, and the five minutes of silence was them confirming what to do with me. If they knew I wasn't the Zenith from Belobog, the one who already was an expert at manipulating memories, what if they were going to discard me?

They knew after all. Maybe Silver Wolf took her time to condense everything into generic points and they had to come to a conclusion on what to do with me?

If I considered that, then I was as good as dead.

No- I couldn't think like that.

The Astral Express had to have known I was missing. I had to believe in their abilities to locate me.

I just… needed to wait.

So I sat down on one of the logs in the campsite and waited.

And waited for hours.

But nobody came.

When my pulse started to rush and my anxiety felt like it was going to peel my skin off, I got up again.

I would pick a direction and go. I couldn't just stay here and wait for my demise. Each direction had a forest of trees that extended into nothingness. A wall of darkness met my vision no matter where I looked.

I just… had to go.

Steeling myself, I walked away from the campsite. I got to the entrance of the trees when red lines appeared in front of me, blocking off my path. They shimmered ever so slightly and hummed in a volume that was barely audible.

…Lasers?

I turned to my left, only to see that another set of lasers had appeared and once again blocked my way. My right mirrored my left, leaving my only path back to the camp.

As I walked back, a corridor of lasers followed me, guiding me back to camp. They were nearly blinding in the darkness of the campsite, rendering anything past the wall nothing but a silhouette. I found myself in the center of the campsite, in nearly the exact same spot that I had initially woken up.

The lasers dropped, and when my vision cleared I saw two women.

One dressed in black and purple, with violet eyes and sunglasses adorned as an accessory in her hair. And one who's hair was gray, with eyes a warm golden amber. Both of them were familiar, and both of them were someone I had seen prior to my kidnapping.

"Zenith?" My friend, the one who first welcomed me to the Astral Express, said in shock.

"...Stelle?" I couldn't help but respond.

"Well now." The one I knew who could only be Kafka said. "Let's get onto business, shall we?"

And then, everything about what they wanted fell into place.

Start: June 9th. 2024.

End: June 11th. 2024.

Words: 3575.

Ah, jealousy, my old friend. I will never forget how you controlled my life. I'm glad to have forgone you.

This is the turning point

No more brakes.

As for everyone's wonderful comments. THANK YOU. I LOOOOOOOOOVED everyone's reactions. I always read every single one of them. As for whether or not this is the last we'll see of SR!Zenith… who knows?

-FN.