Chapter 11: Of Gods and Monsters
Eleven months of agonizing work spent twisting his brain into a metaphorical pretzel had led Voltimure to this point. After creating a power cable with the unconventional dimensions needed to power the crystal back up, communicating with the consciousness embedded in it, deciphering the alien DNA found in the container and using it to create a render of its owner's characteristics, then using his knowledge of synthetic biological materials to create a suitable body, he found himself staring at the most daunting and frightening part of the process: merging the embedded consciousness with the synthetic body.
He had done it before—most notably with himself. Considering that he had no option but to program his equipment to carry out the entire process back then, he felt a bit more confident that he would be able to awaken the being within the crystal now. But at the same time, did he really want to? The words of the Aparoid Sentinel filled him with concern. Although the creature gave him little information about the crystal's occupant, he learned enough to know that it was someone who was considered a borderline deity.
That frightened him, because thanks to his study of the DNA taken from the shipwreck, he noticed enough similarities to the genetic traits of the Cerinian people that he felt confident that this person would be a telepath—and likely a powerful one. The genetic render and synthetic body he created based on the ancient DNA also looked intimidating, to say the least.
"Am I about to awaken a demon?" he wondered to himself. "If I stop now, nothing untoward will happen. But if I go through with it, there's no telling what the outcome will be. But if I stop now, this part of Cerinian history will remain lost to the ages. Neron wanted me to hand over the crystal to him and claimed that it was something that belonged to his people—but he wouldn't go into any more detail! Why? Did he think I couldn't be trusted with the knowledge?"
Another, more sobering thought came to his mind.
"Or is she that dangerous?"
He looked at his creation's body, wondering if he was about to reenact the legend of a fabled scientist who created and subsequently lost control of a monster, and had his name forever attached to the tragedy. Anticipating that her awakening in the nude and immediately being seen in that state would cause her distress, Voltimure took the precautionary step of dressing her with the clothes he had taken from the shipwreck. The outfit consisted of little more than a triangular chest shawl, a shin-length loincloth that functioned more like an exaggerated slit skirt, and a cloth chest wrap worn under the shawl. He figured that at the very least, it would give her a better first impression of him.
He looked at the crystal, plugged into his massive computer array and gently pulsating as the low-voltage cables circulated power through it. Then, he looked at the body on the mattress just a matter of feet away from it. Small cables ran from the back of the crystal to the inanimate woman's skull, waiting for him to activate the program.
"What am you doing?" he asked himself. "You saw how the Sentinel was. This woman might be even worse—she might legitimately view herself as a goddess. And what am I supposed to do about that? Worship and serve my own creation? Or have I legitimately discovered something far greater than myself?"
He stared at the woman again. If he was honest with himself, he saw her as strikingly beautiful in a way that was both regal and savage at the same time. She was the kind of woman he wished would take an interest in him. Voltimure had never had much success with the female kind—in his original body, his grotesque appearance and socially awkward behaviors precluded him from the kind of relationships he pretended to deny interest in; and with his second body, he stayed so far out of the public eye that he often resorted to talking with himself and his AI algorithms just to stay partially sane.
As he stared at the silent, unmoving woman, a realization dawned on him. "I'm not happy with my life. Before I remade myself, the only reason anyone cared about me was for my research. Outside of that, I was dead to them. And the instant my mind began to depart and I wasn't able to do my research, they were all sad about that part of me…but not the part of me that encompassed who I was. They never cared, and I returned the favor by going into hiding with this new body. But they won't care about Voltimure Reige the person if I go back. They'd only care about Voltimure Reige, the mind."
With a sigh, he continued his internal train of thought. "If I awaken her, what's the worst that can happen? She kills me? She won't be getting very far if she does that. This place is in the middle of an exclusion zone surrounded by defense batteries. If that doesn't kill her, the Aparoids probably will."
As had started happening not too long ago, a ghostly whisper emanated from the crystal. This time, however, he heard it speak without touching it. As before, in what he identified as a Cerinian dialect, it said, "Release me, or forever let me sleep."
Voltimure steeled himself. Then, he walked over to his main computer monitor, opened to the program he had written decades ago specifically for the purpose of merging a consciousness with a body. His clicker hovered over the 'start program' button, his hand shaking as it held the mouse. He glanced at the crystal, then at the woman.
"Here goes nothing," he said, clicking the button.
The process happened in mere seconds. Effectively, the only thing that pressing the button did was activate power to the lines leading from the crystal to the woman's skull and the wire from the computer array that prompted her body systems to start activating. But that act was enough to begin the transfer. For thirty seconds, nothing seemed to happen, but when Voltimure looked at the crystal again, he realized that it was no longer glowing even though power was still running to it.
Breath catching in his throat, he stood up and moved away from his workstation. The woman shifted on the mattress. She closed her eyes, drew a breath, then opened her eyes for the first time. She turned her head to the right and stared at Voltimure, her expression a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and fear. Sitting up, she looked at her hands, moving her fingers and experimenting with her newfound range of motion. She noticed the wires stuck to her scalp and reached to remove them, but she stopped and wordlessly looked at the overly-tall wolf standing in front of her as if to ask if she could "unplug" herself.
Voltimure took the hint and nodded. The woman removed the wires, then cautiously rose to her feet and took a shaky first step. She coughed, and in the alien language Voltimure had become much more acquainted with recently, she spoke her first words in a tongue remarkably similar to what Voltimure recognized as modern Cerinian. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"I am Doctor Voltimure Reige," said the wolf, using his acceptable albeit imperfect grasp of her language to the best of his ability. "This is my laboratory, underground on the moon known as Zharon. But the more important question is: do you know who you are?"
The woman looked off to the side, pondering the question. In truth, she did not remember. Vague hints at a forgotten past whisked through her head, but after fifteen seconds of deep concentration, she gasped and clenched her teeth.
"What happened? Are you okay?" Voltimure implored her.
"I remember it…my limbs going numb…my heart slowing down…Lucias trying to help me…hearing screams from all over the ship…the virus…" She paused, then continued speaking out loud as the memories started piling up. "The ship…Malika…return trip to the Homeworld after a visit to the desert planet…the Homeworld…coronation…Vatris…the Khavari…"
She took an extended pause, never taking her eyes off Voltimure's ice green irises. This time, Voltimure's difficulty in maintaining eye contact made itself obvious. With people he felt confident interacting with, he could lock eyes with the best of them, but with powerful, authoritative people…not so much.
"Look at me. I sense you're afraid. Don't be. I'm not going to hurt you."
Voltimure forced himself to look into her haunting orange and black eyes, even though the very act filled him with terror. "Do you remember who you are now?"
"Yes," the woman replied.
"Who are you, then? I'm asking for myself—I sincerely don't know."
She raised a surprised eyebrow. "You don't?"
"No."
The woman's shoulders fell slightly. "In that case, I am Ranakka Agur-Dhalva Veikhod, fourteenth monarch of the Revnite Empire, Avatar of the Demiurge. You can address me as Dhalva, or Your Highness, if preferred."
Although his voice threatened to tremble, Voltimure forced himself to address the most pressing issue while his new creation was still friendly. "Dhalva, I don't think your empire exists anymore."
Her eyes narrowed in anger. "I'm insulted by your insinuation, 'Doctor.'"
"No, listen to me!" Voltimure insisted. "How do you think you got here? Look around you."
Although furious, Dhalva scanned the room, from the rudimentary bed, to the computer array, to the crystal…
Her blood ran cold, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. "How long was I gone?"
Voltimure softened his expression and opened his hands, once again struggling to meet her eyes. "I don't know, miss, but I found that crystal in what must have been your personal quarters inside a wrecked warship not too far from here. That ship has been here as long as anyone on this moon can remember. The amount of plant growth around and on the vessel suggests that it has been here for hundreds, even thousands of years. If your empire still exists, it has no influence in this part of the universe."
Dhalva lowered her eyes to the floor, crestfallen. "I feared this would happen."
"How is that?" asked Voltimure.
"It's a lot to explain," she said. "Can we go somewhere darker? My eyes are starting to hurt."
The recent memory of her genetic review flashed through Voltimure's mind. He recalled that while analyzing her DNA, he noted that her eyes would be optimized for darkness and that her tolerance for dry climates and cold temperatures would be low. He had considered altering her genetic information, but elected not to in an effort to create a body she would be the most familiar with.
"We certainly can. Follow me."
Voltimure turned around and began walking, but having just been brought back from an age-long, dreamless sleep, Dhalva took a step after him and promptly fell to the floor.
Scratching the top of his head in mixed concern and embarrassment, Voltimure muttered, "Perhaps I should merely turn off the lights in here."
"Please do," Dhalva replied, pushing herself up and dragging her uncooperative body back to the mattress where she had awakened. Acceding to her request, Voltimure turned off every light in the room, plunging the space into complete and total darkness broken only by the various green and yellow status lights built into his computer array and Dhalva's glowing orange irises. The lack of light put Voltimure on edge, especially since he knew that his new acquaintance could see the room in pitch darkness as well as he could if all the lights were on.
"You really don't know anything about me, do you?" asked Dhalva, observing as Voltimure took a seat in his computer chair.
"I'm sorry, miss. I do not," he admitted. "But I would very much like to learn. You see, I am deeply interested in the traditions and customs of the Cerinian people, which I feel you have something to do with."
"Did you mean the Cerinas?"
"Possibly? What did they look like?"
"They were hard to miss. Most of them had blue fur," Dhalva explained. "The Cerinas—which means 'part-royal'—were half-breeds created after my people started intermarrying with the first race we found ourselves to be sexually compatible with. Many of our physical traits were not well suited to life outside the Homeworld, and many of my people wanted their children to be genetically better off than they were. The Cerinas inherited my people's telepathy, and with time, they replaced all of us except for the royal family and the few who chose to stay on the Homeworld. They are Revnites in all but name and appearance."
"Revnites? Is that what you call yourself?" asked Voltimure.
Dhalva nodded.
"Most intriguing," the wolf replied, "As for your people, it appears that some of them are still out there—the Cerinians have their own planet in this very star system."
Dhalva looked at him intently. "I suppose the virus didn't affect them the way it affected me and my people. 'Cerinian' means 'royal exile,' so we probably are thinking of the same people. That does warm my heart a little bit."
Although the question made him uncomfortable, Voltimure chose to pose it anyway. "About this virus—what was it?"
Dhalva sighed. "Well, it didn't occur naturally. You see, in all honesty, my predecessors were cruel, harsh leaders, dominating the galaxy and ruling it with fear. We had far more advanced technology than the planets we conquered did, so they had no way to resist us. But eventually, the people on one of our mining planets developed a genetic virus that they smuggled onto the flagship Khavari—my father's ship. The virus was so potent and so perfectly tailored for my people that it killed every Revnite on the ship within hours. The Khavari was never heard from again.
"After my father's death, I was crowned Empress, and my goal was to change the way our colonies viewed us. I didn't want to rule with an iron fist like my father did. Change like that doesn't happen overnight, though, and many of the remaining Revnites were unhappy with me. They saw me as trying to dissolve the empire—they couldn't shake the fear that if we weren't the preeminent beings in complete control of our dominion, then we'd be overrun and crushed. You have to understand that on my homeworld, strength is paramount. Weakness gets you killed, and only the most dominant survive. It's a harsh, brutal world, but it forged us into a galactic powerhouse. I wanted our subjects to view us as partners in the imperial project, not as slave drivers." She trailed off. "Not that it mattered… The same virus that killed my father somehow made its way onto my ship, the Malika. Crystals like the one in your lab were used by my people to try to preserve the consciousnesses of high-ranking officials in case someone ever figured out a way to bring them back."
"Your people didn't have that ability?" asked Voltimure.
"Definitely not. That's why I'm so impressed with what you were able to do with me. It feels so strange, and so wrong to say this, but I'm in your debt."
Voltimure returned a humble grin. "Thank you, Your Highness."
Dhalva sighed. "You know, now that the empire is gone, that doesn't feel right anymore. If you want, you can call me by my name. My actual name."
"Which is?"
"Agata."
"If that's how you want it," said Voltimure.
"You've earned the right to use it, so by all means, do it. Now that I've told you about myself, how about you tell me about you?"
Voltimure blushed. Holding a conversation with a beautiful, powerful woman who seemed even tangentially interested in him was not a situation he was used to being in. "Well, you're a telepath, are you not? How about you tell me?"
A faint smile crossed Agata's lips, although Voltimure could not see it in the darkness. "Deep mind-reads tend to disturb people—some of my kind even used them as a method of torture. Are you sure you're up for it?"
"I have some experience with this," replied Voltimure. "I think I am capable of handling it."
"If you say so," said Agata, closing her eyes and all but disappearing from sight in the darkness.
At first, Voltimure felt nothing, but as the seconds passed, he became aware of a presence in his mind. It grew stronger by the moment, giving off the sensation of tendrils or tentacles raking through the corridors of his brain. However, unlike his experiences with Cerinian telepathy courtesy of Neron, the mental presence grew stronger and more potent, to the point where he felt as if his core being was being displaced and that he was no longer himself. At this point, he attempted to call out for Agata to stop, but when he opened his mouth, no sound emerged.
To his relief, the sensation faded seconds later, and control of his mind returned. Agata opened her eyes and took a small breath. "You are an interesting one, Doctor. Not everything about you is as it appears. Deep down, you resent who you are. Your appearance is a cleverly constructed lie to make you feel stronger and worthy of respect, but your inner being does not reflect it. You like to think that you have a strong, independent mind, but you are easily manipulated and persuaded. In particular, you have lasting pain from a recent betrayal, where a trusted friend used you for his own ends and broke his promises to you."
Voltimure sighed and hung his head. "Perhaps I should not have consented to having you observe my mind."
"I also sense that this fair-weather friend was one of my people," said Agata. "If it's not too difficult, I would like to know what happened."
The wolf struggled to meet her glowing eyes in the darkness. "Can you not simply find out yourself?"
Agata answered, "I don't want to hurt you. Repeated mind intrusions have the tendency to scar a person's psyche. Please tell me."
The subtle power behind her words forced him into reluctant compliance. "A friend of mine visited ten months ago, requesting my assistance with a scheme to craft an army of Cerinian clones for the purpose of liberating his home planet from its current leadership. I trusted that his goal was noble, but after I handed over my life's work to him and his business partner, I never saw or heard from him again. They never upheld their end of the bargain."
The monarch sat on the edge of the mattress, tail twitching behind her. "You did what?" she snapped, her voice suddenly husky and harsh. "Who was this 'business partner' you speak of? Did you sell out my people to a corporation?"
Feeling the growing rage of the woman seated across from him, Voltimure verbally flailed in an attempt at exonerating himself. "The leader of this organization is also one of your people! My friend assured me that his goal was the same and that he could be trusted with my knowledge."
Agata narrowed her eyes. "The same 'friend' who abandoned you the instant he got what he wanted from you? How could you be so naive?"
"I don't know," Voltimure lamented. "Neron spent a year with me. I saved his life. He became my closest friend. He taught me your language and gave me an interest in your people. I had every reason to trust him."
"You're not very good at reading people, Voltimure."
The towering wolf stared at the floor, a single tear threatening to leave his eye. "I never have been. This seems to keep happening to me. They use me for my brain and my accomplishments, then they abandon me and take all the credit for my own work. I chose to live in exile because I could deal with it no longer, yet the cycle of betrayal continues."
Agata frowned. She lowered the volume of her voice and tried to soften it to lessen the force behind what she had to say, but it stung nonetheless. "You need to advocate for yourself. Stop being the kind of person others see as an opportunity to take advantage of, and they'll stop."
Voltimure returned an angry, indirect glare. "I've heard that same pointless platitude for decades. It doesn't work for me. I miss social cues, I struggle to ascertain motives, and since I'm clearly defective, I have great difficulty obtaining the self-worth needed to trust my own intuition in situations which fall outside the boundaries of logical, pattern-based decision making."
"You're not defective. You just function a bit differently from most people, and that's perfectly fine. Personally, I find that charming."
Voltimure looked at Agata warily. "Are you trying to manipulate me now?"
"Not in the slightest," said Agata, "And I mean that. You're an interesting person. And for what it's worth, the fact that you were willing to stand up to me after I awakened suggests that you have a lot more inner strength and willpower than you think you do. Most people I encountered in the…" she halted, "…before times couldn't stop themselves from groveling in my presence."
"I can hardly blame them. You are quite intimidating," replied Voltimure.
Agata opened her hands in an explanatory gesture, although of course, Voltimure could not see that. "My people are like that. Occasionally brutal direct speech, emphatic gestures, and appeals to physical and mental power are hard-wired into our cultural makeup. But what we wouldn't tell you is that we respect those willing to fight fire with fire, as it were."
Her last sentence hung in the air, before she changed the topic. "I'm aware that I'm in no position to make impositions on you, but I would greatly…" she deliberately harshened her voice, "…appreciate it if you would at least make an attempt to right your greatest recent wrong."
Voltimure looked at her with confusion. "And what would that be?"
"Are you serious?" Agata snapped, "We just discussed it—how you sold my people out to a soulless corporation who lied to you and refused to honor their end of your deal."
He threw up his hands. "I'm sorry! I don't know what—if anything—I can do to change that! What's done is done—they have already begun producing the clone soldiers. I'd venture to say that they are close to launching their ultimate operation."
"Do you know of anyone who might be interested in this, who might want to stop this corporation from taking over my people's home planet?" Agata asked, on the verge of pleading.
"Well, perhaps…they do have a large rival corporation who might take umbrage to this…"
"Then call them," said Agata, staring daggers at him.
"You don't understand—they wouldn't listen to me. I'm just a nobody they've never heard of. How could I be expected to navigate their bureaucracy to get in contact with someone with the power to do anything about this?"
Agata held her stare, keeping her voice flatly furious. "Call them, tell them what you know, work your way up the food chain until you get in touch with someone who cares about this. Be forceful and persistent. If what you have to say is of interest to them, they'll listen. Don't try to put this off—call them now."
The sheer power of both her unspoken and spoken gravitas put more knots in his stomach than his initial fear could ever hope to. His voice deeply uncertain, he replied, "I'll do it. Let me find their information. I will need to turn the lights back on, however."
"Do what you must," said Agata.
If he was honest, Voltimure hated fielding calls, vastly preferring venues of communication that allowed him the opportunity to arrange and prepare his words ahead of time. However, his new creation's forcefulness compelled him to do that which he hated. Turning on the lights in the lab, he opened his communicator and performed a cursory search for the Gaia Corporation's contact information. Of course, only the main customer service number presented itself. Expecting nothing but humiliation and disappointment, he called the main number.
After a brief hold, an artificial-sounding recorded message reached his ears. "Thank you for calling The Gaia Customer Portal. For company information, press 1. For consumer inquiries, press 2. For corporate inquiries, press 3. For equipment-related concerns, press 4. For all inquiries about Gaia Medical, please hang up and call 80-20-GAIAMED. For the operator, press 0 or stay on the line. Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received."
Sighing, Voltimure, pressed 0.
"Thank you for your call. At Gaia, we take the needs of our customers seriously. At the moment, we are experiencing higher than normal call volumes. Your current estimated wait time is…45 minutes. Our Gaia online portal offers electronic mail and chat options. We suggest that you consider them. Otherwise, remain on hold, and one of our representatives will take your call as soon as possible. This call may be recorded for training and quality assurance purposes."
The wolf growled and glanced towards the mattress behind him, where Agata stared at him with her eyes squinted. "Stay on the line," she told him.
Voltimure's ears fell. "Really?"
"Yes. 45 minutes is a small price to pay for this."
Obediently, he waited, alternating between pacing back and forth in the lab, sitting in the chair next to Agata, and mindlessly checking the status of various electronic components scattered throughout his 'lair.' Finally, however, the voice of a disinterested but civil enough customer service representative came through his PDU speakers. "Gaia Corporation Customer Service—how may I assist you today?"
"Greetings!" Voltimure replied. "I have valuable information regarding the clandestine operations of your friends at Asgard Industries."
The customer service representative stammered at first, then replied, "Excuse me? Who is this?"
"Voltimure Reige," he replied. "Doctor Voltimure Reige. If you would be so kind, would you be able to direct me to whomever is most qualified to hear me out?"
"Uh…sure," the representative trailed off. "You know, we don't have a dedicated channel for what you say you have, so would it be okay if one of our representatives called you back as soon as I figure out who to pass this along to?"
Voltimure glanced at Agata, terrified of doing something contrary to her desires. Nonetheless, he still chose the option that appealed to him the most. "Certainly—but understand that this is very important information and that I am most assuredly not bluffing. It is in your company's best interest if I am contacted regarding this information. The code from which I am calling is an acceptable channel for return communications."
"Got it," said the representative."Okay, Dr. Reige, I'll pass this along. Expect a return call soon. Thank you for your patience."
"At least I was able to get through," the tall wolf replied. "I await your return communication."
"Goodbye."
The call ended, and Voltimure shoved his communicator back into his lab coat pocket. From the rudimentary bed, Agata continued staring at him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and subdued anger. "I suppose I can't blame you for taking the easy way out."
He shrugged. "What else was I supposed to do? They don't have a dedicated 'enemy intelligence repository' division."
"Understandable, but they'd better call you back."
"I'm sure they will."
"I sense uncertainty coming from you, Voltimure," Agatha replied. "Don't try to lie to me."
He sighed. "Fine. But I do think they'll get back to me."
"They'd better."
Fifteen minutes later, Voltimure's PDU chirped. He stared at the incoming comms code, recognizing it as originating from Skallis.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Dr. Voltimure Reige?"
"Indeed it is? Who is this?"
"This is Felix Sparta, owner and CEO of the Gaia Corporation. I've just been informed that you have information on something related to Asgard Industries. It just so happens that I've been looking for you specifically. What do you know about what Asgard Industries is up to? And did you have a role in it?"
Voltimure took a quick, nervous glance at Agata, then replied. "Yes—Asgard Industries has begun the process of assembling several battle groups comprised of cloned Cerinians. They may have already reached completion. And yes…" he sighed, "I did have a role in this, unfortunately. I realize that this was a significant lapse in judgment on my part."
"I see…" said Felix, "If you're willing to discuss it, what is their motivation for this? This is a secure line, by the way. Feel free to share."
Voltimure replied, "Indeed. Their ultimate goal is to overthrow the acting government on the planet of Cerinia. Given the xenophobic characteristics of that planet's natives, their acting mercenary army would never pass muster with the Cerinians. But with a liberating army made up of their own people…"
Felix sighed, "Yeah. I learned about this plan just yesterday from two of my associates. You said that you played a role in this. What was it?"
"I facilitated the cloning procedure," Voltimure replied, speaking slowly with palpable regret. "I provided them with the equipment and my experience with the procedure in exchange for material compensation…which I was never given. Hence, why I am reaching out to you now."
Agata spoke up. "Voltimure, the Cerinians need to know about what's coming to them. Bring that up."
On the line with Voltimure, Felix responded to him, "Understandable. I appreciate your willingness to reach out to us regarding this. Without divulging too many details, I need to do something to prevent Asgard from succeeding in their Cerinian campaign. I have several options at my disposal, and since you're partially responsible for this campaign existing in the first place, I was wondering if you had any suggestions that I might not have thought of."
Voltimure locked eyes with Agata, then replied, "Indeed—Cerinia's leadership needs to be warned of what is coming their way."
"That's actually something my associates have been discussing," said Felix."We're trying to figure out a way to reach the planet directly, since they keep to themselves to such a degree that we have no way to contact them in the ways that we normally would."
"If you're willing, good sir, I would like to be a part of this effort, in the event that you do find a way to reach the planet directly. It is also worth mentioning that I happen to have someone here with me whom the Cerinian people may be more receptive to."
"Is that so? In that case, I'd be willing to send a team to pick you up and bring you to my facility, pending our ability to secure a Cerinian landing pass. Where are you located?"
"Zharon, in the ancient ruins near the center of the Aparoid Wilds."
"Hold up—what?"
"Yes, indeed—as ridiculous as it may sound, I do in fact maintain a residence here. I will send you my coordinates at the conclusion of this call."
"Please do. Although if you really are in the Aparoid Wilds, this extraction crew will need to be more heavily armed than I was expecting."
"Do what you must," said Voltimure. "In the meantime, I will await further communications."
"Sounds good," Felix replied, "I'll let you know if either of my associates figure out a way to reach the planet directly without triggering their defense network. At any rate, thanks for getting in touch, Doctor. Oh—and if we do arrive to pick you up, what should we be looking for? As in…what are you?"
"I think you will know when you see me. I and my guest are difficult to miss."
"I'll take your word for it," said Felix. "I'll contact you again when I have more information. Goodbye for now."
"Goodbye, and thank you," Voltimure finished.
The call ended. Voltimure holstered his PDA and moved towards Agata, who gave him a vaguely approving stare.
"See? You have it in you. That ended up a lot better than either of us were expecting."
"Now we wait, I suppose," said Voltimure.