Finally, the gigantic duel between Serun, Jhynie, Juulyn against Eidren. Three against one. Hardly fair.

  The Queen stood at the breach of a long tunnel, with flashing red lights all along the way, a vault blast door behind her of such thick steel that it would not be worth pursuing by the time they could tear it open. But the doors remained slid open. Through it the Queen could see her remaining two escorts – they were far away from the stronghold now – Avecia, holding the doorway leading to the foyer to the blast door in a bunker cut into the mountain, and Eidren past that doorway, facing off the vanguard of forces that had spread to this corner of the compound- Serun and the Assassin Twins. The dream.

  “I got this Juul! ‘Nie Nie! Do not assist me! This one can resist mind blasts anyway.”

  Suit yourself, Serun.

  So, it had never been a fight of one knight against overwhelming odds, not yet anyway, it started as a good old gentle-elvanly one on one.

  Eidren’s path back to the Queen was clear. Enon and Ezreal were already there, like logical, rational people. Avecia was sending a paralytic hold to anyone who could have even tried to tackle him and get in his way.

  Absolutely everyone except for Eidren was already clear down the safety evacuation route. Avecia, Ezreal, Enon, and the Queen especially were all telepathing, EIDREN, YOU MORON, RETREAT!

  Eidren charged at the three Amallarkeans. Leeroy Jenkins.

  Here comes your elvan, Vilithe. The one you’ve been trying to meet.

  So, you see, he made a choice. We didn’t abandon him. In a way, he abandoned us. To challenge evildoers. He never truly obeyed me. Never. He chose. He chose to fight for me.

  Vilithe was stunned.

  It was just…

  Androus ego. And self-righteousness.

  Avecia! Go! I’ll cover you! I’ll not have you risk yourself when I can heroically ensure your safety! What’s more important is that I smite these villains before they hurt anyone else!

  Eidren, you dumbass, you are going to die, and you don’t even have to. I’m not in trouble at this moment. In fact, I’m covering you- not the other way around.

  I’m the best of the eight. I’m the Leader. I got this, babe.

  Vilithe cringed so hard, she felt awful. She didn’t want to pry and pull out the memories, because she didn’t want to know. But then Talisa put a gentle hand on her shoulder letting her know she needn’t worry.

  There was a little self-destructive grin, maniacal look in his eyes, he was just like an orcan. What are you waiting for? He tauntingly telepathed to Serun, knowing Serun could not telepath back- and yet, he could scry Serun’s mind, so he eagerly awaited a response. It was kind of cute to Vilithe, it was detestably stupid in the eyes of the Queen. It was- what did they call it? Gezzno. Gezzno as a glob.

  If he knew he was fighting the right fight – protecting mother and sister is high up there – he went in with abandon. How could he not? He had everything to fight for.

  He was just naturally curious for destruction. He had an appetite for it.

  Oh, sweet child of mine.

  Where is my mind? Completely lost in the Dasein, his mind stolen dancing with his greatsword, all vocal thought-words completely left his psionic universe-center. He was just always knocking on heaven’s door.

  He whirled his blade in a rising stroke. CLANG! Serum’s bastard sword parried it, he slid his blade back and the edges clashing left more clanging sounds, a clamor, a clash of kings, a joust of knights. The Knight in Shining Armor versus the Imperial Knight of the Evil Empress.

  Quickly rotating his wrists to turn the blade in a downward strike, Serun threw his own bastard sword above his head, supporting the other end with his gauntleted hand, and CLANG! Parried Eidren’s downward blow.

  After the second parry, Eidren used the momentum to shuffle a half step forward and do a digging downward jab. Serun swung his blade clockwise to knock it away in yet another parry. CLANG!

  He’s a bloody, adorable idiot.

  He looked around. Huh. Wait. Where was everyone? Where did they go? He needed an audience for his hero moment!

  Serun used his gap in mindfulness to surge forward and counter, and he brought his own blade back up just in time to catch with the crossguard. CLANG!

  Vilithe was filled with Satori. There was a sudden peace that came with knowing exactly the one thing that you did not know you needed to know. This was the missing piece. The hidden layer of code. She could not see his growth, truly, thoroughly and for real, and not just his growth but his soul, the parts of him that wouldn’t change. She felt filled with so much compassion for all beings, so filled with love for him that it spilled out to all the cosmos.

  Epic duel, let’s go, added Mal. Let’s finally see what Eidren’s mettle is made of.

  Oh well. The Knight in Shining Armor had more important problems right now, he assumed his family was fine and had run to safety in the time he had bought them, of course, as big damn heroes do. Serun ran at him and swung a batter swing slash. Eidren caught it again in his crossguard and pushed it away. If there was fear that he was facing his enemy alone, he did not show it.

  He was stoic.

  Eidren went for a hilt bash, and it hit Serun’s carapace helm hard, knocking him back a few steps, down an incline. Serun would have stumbled back prone had his carapace not released the rest of its hydraulic strength to the hinds so it could support its own weight from toppling backwards. This spent all the exoskeleton’s readily accessible power though, its random-access energy, so Serun was now in a state that the knights called ‘shell locked’ - until he could force himself out of the position the other way with brute strength, he couldn’t move, trapped in his own protection.

  He did his duty without complaint.

  “Death from above!”, Eidren roared, after backing up to take a few running steps for leaping at Serun with a downward slashing leap cleave attack.

  He loved fighting assholes like Serun. Oh, that was satisfying, to put my fingers around his throat, and he could do nothing about that. Worth losing a simulacrum.

  CLANG! Serun just barely lifted his bastard sword laterally in front of him to stop Eidren from cutting him in half. Eidren took advantage of his compromised position and stomped hard on Serun’s chest, which did bring Serun down finally. So that’s where he got those bruises.

  I gave him full access to the psionic legacy. He just never took to it until you came along and showed him all the beauty he was missing.

  Eidren’s broken face – his nose broken and reset too many times – still flashed a charming smile and said, “Nice save, bro” as Serun kipped away and returned to his feet.

  They circled each other, sizing each other up for real, finally. Real fight. Serun was also starting to enjoy a fight that got a little bit more complicated than cutting down fools that Juulyn crowd controlled for him to gank. Finally got to use his brain a little bit.

  “You shouldn’t have telegraphed what you were going to do with that battle cry.”

  His psionic energy spent from the mass hallucinations he cast on his family in the battle before, Eidren now had to face Serun with martial wit alone.

  Don’t you remember how hard he jammed, when you were kicking asses, taking names, making your way down to Exasha in our old home?

  “Oh yeah? Well then- DEATH FROM BELOW!” Eidren ducked low against an errant lateral slice of Serun’s bastard sword and smashed his own greatsword up in an upwards sweep.

  Since it was Eidren’s counter to his own swing, Serun had no time to respond with the appropriate counter- stab his own blade downwards to deflect – parrying was out of the question with the heft and built power of Eidren’s greatsword – before kicking him right in the stupid face. So instead, the blow slammed into the crotch of Serun’s carapace.

  “AU-UGH!”

  He flew up, and then Eidren commanded his Talauthian carapace to unleash it’s built in turbo boost to leap right up into the air with Serun for an aerial combo. Why not? His opponent was helpless after an air launch, he couldn’t respond with any momentum without any inertial frame of reference to push off. Plus, he had just hit him in the nuts.

  Renzokuken. Omnislash.

  Using what bit of psionic strength he had left to dilate his perception of time in sync with the limited amount of time the carapace could turbo boost, he unloaded blow after blow, an unrelenting torrent of slashes, into Serun.

  CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-

  He doled out his strength, economy of action, keeping momentum to whip the blade to and fro with vigor instead of depth, so he wouldn’t launch Serun away, all the better to land another one. Death by a thousand slashes.

  CLANG-CLANG-CLANG! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

  As the built-up inertia of the combined strikes began to push Serun bit by by further away in time perception dilated warp, Eidren threw his righteous fury into stabs instead to better his reach, poking away at different parts of Serun’s ragdolling body so that the other end would rotate closer for another piercing jab of the tip of his holy avenging blade.

  SH-CLANG! SH-CLANG! SH-CLANG! SH-CLANG! SH-CLANG!

  The time dilated turbo boost window of opportunity closed, well and thoroughly used. Optimal. Maximum damage. Flawless victory, for Serun had not even landed a single hit on him. Can’t touch this, brother, can’t touch this.

  He put every last bit of his physical strength, his psionic strength now well and fully depleted, donezo, into his finisher. The outro. He knew the twins were going to make him pay after this, so it didn’t matter if he didn’t have anything left.

  He just wanted Serun to get what he got coming for him. What goes around, comes around. Smite.

  “FOR GREAT JUSTICE!”, he roared, as he stabbed his greatsword right into Serun’s stupid face. He’d better thank his helm for his dear life, when he woke up. If he woke up.

  BAM! Serun crashed to the ground in a meteoric streak.

  Juulyn and Jhynie stepped in and struck Eidren down with mind blast after mind blast.

  But the entire time, he never once gave up. They brought him to his knees, and he still tried to get up. He had a smile on his face the whole time, no matter how much pain he was in…

  He just didn’t give a fuck.

  He couldn’t have truly said to earn these psionic powers if he didn’t uphold the responsibility that it gave him.

  He had to prove himself equal to the task.

  He must be worthy to be called a hero. Psionic paladin.

  Or else he just didn’t deserve it. These psionic gifts.

  If he couldn’t do this, then he was just a weak soldier.

  Anyone can win a fight when the odds are easy.

  He didn’t care how much pain they put him in. Because he knew what these three had done.

  He knew what they were like. He knew how they treated other elvans.

  And he needed simply to deliver justice to them. Karma itself was acting through him.

  He was the big damn hero.

  As long as he knows he’s fighting for the right reasons; he will fight with all his heart.

  It’s when the going gets tough. When there seems to be no chance.

  That’s when it counts.

  He pushed through the barrage of mind blasts, channeling as many of them through himself through litanies against fear and then punched Juulyn right in her stupid face.

  It was the only way he knew how to feel alive. It was masochistic.

  The torrent of pain blasts hit him as hard and unrelenting as his renzokuken now. Still, he did not whimper. Still, he did not cry. Still, he did not truly suffer. The pain was not suffering. Not when he was restoring order to the universe. Banishing the chaos of evil. Fulfilling cosmic purpose.

  He was lucky to have a purpose. Protecting all that is good. To fight the good fight. Not all beings in the realm were lucky enough to have purpose.

  Pain didn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop him. He didn’t mind if they destroyed him, if he could give himself, all of himself, in stopping them from hurting another, ever again. Let them hurt him as much as they want, and not them. He could do this all rotation. After rotation. After rotation. Rote after rote. It was rote.

  He could take as much as they could give. More would never be enough. Bring it on.

  Just a few more seconds of it, flay and flay, blast after blast, brutal kick after kick, it was too much for the mother and fiancee to bear, so with another snap of her fingers, Talisa had sent them to another moment in time.

  He does not obey. He chooses. He chooses what he feels is right.

  When he was trying to save the rogue that he psionically put to sleep. He had a chance to do the right thing- to spare life where other knight commanders would have not. You needed psionic silence. Death is the simplest. Sleep- not so much. Obedience, even harder. But still, he commands it, even if only temporarily in this case. Those he commands know his intentions.

  I remember this moment well, mother.

  Eidren cut his greatsword into the assuredly dead body next to him – his psionics were getting stronger and c’mon, he could at least tell if a mind was dead or alive – and tried to regen the injured rogue, hoping the spirits he dribbled had enough hit points to at least close the wound, onto the rogue’s deep cut. It’ll have to do for now.

  “Hngh-” the rogue tried not to cry out as the confused spirits adapted to their new body, which always caused pain, not to mention the mixing of dead organic cells of his brethren – any less fresh and this elvan blood sharing would never work for risk of infection – but he did not question his providence.

  There was no point in explaining his actions. “Don’t move. Don’t think.” he said, his voice muffled under the helm.

  He was trying to save the rogue’s life; he really is a hero.

  But I see now he really means it when he says he has never been freer. And that he knows what he truly believes. He knows he knows these things, because he knows he loves you.

  Talisa jumped to another point in their romance. Now they were back in Vilithe’s home, once again.

  Vilithe wrapped her arms around Eidren, hanging by his shoulders she swung around him like a maypole, and he instinctively scooped her up by the waist so she wouldn’t fall as she belted, “But when I’m way up here-”

  On beat, Eidren sang, “-it’s crystal clear.”

  And in unison, “That now I’m in a whole new world with you.”

  Unbelievable sights and indescribable feeling.

  Talisa groaned.

  He felt dead commiting the atrocities of Amallark. But you made him feel alive again. Because he could be the hero again. You were his Fairy Tale Princess.

  Snap and another jump.

  But Juulyn ignored his ingratiation. How did you cut through those rogues so quickly, vassal? Answer. She flayed the answer out from him.

  And then the truth spilled out from his lips, unwillingly,

  “I have tapped into my inner psionic potential, I do not know how I possess it, possibly something done to me by my former” – he wanted to say former Queen, but he couldn’t, wasn’t allowed – “enslavers, traitors to the Empire, who used me and controlled me, before you so graciously granted me the honor of serving the Empress.”

  Do not think about killing her. Do not think about killing her.

  Vilithe, help! Mal! Please!

  He’s not a tool.

  Snap. Jump.

  But he was no heroic captain.

  No void cowboi. No noble dragonrider like his love.

  No defender of the clan. Nor a bounty hunter of justice.

  No pirate seeking adventure and lost bounties of monarchs.

  Not even a rogue.

  He was just a killer.

  A weapon.

  He’s not a weapon. Nor a bodyguard.

  He’s not a protector of anything but good. He fights the good fight.

  He’s just an adventurer.

  He just needed an adventure.

  Contract forward.

  An explosive, exponentiating, tumorous presence that had been there all along, ratcheting up, bit by bit, waiting for the asymptote, it surged into Vilithe, from Vilithe, out of Vilithe. And so too, into Eidren, from Eidren, and out of Eidren. Their hates were all mixed up together, their sorrows too, their pain and fury. So Vilithe had to experience the fullness of each unendurable revelation, unfolding like little catastrophes, little apocalypses and armageddons, little galaxies of possibility all dying inside Eidren’s mental universe, reminding her of the way she had imprinted her thoughts upon his sister, Kwandriss Talauth:

  I am going to be sent in, with the entirety of Amefrid’s army, to exterminate my entire living family, what remains of it, in less than four hours.

  Every love is an adventure. Even with an adventure as brutal as this one. You never know what you might find.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Very likely we are going to capture my mother, and then my enslaver’s minds are going to enter and infect my body, taking it from me, taking my agency away from me, taking my choices from me, and they are going to force me to kill her…

  He was suicidal because he didn’t love himself.

  Contract forward.

  Unlike Vilithe, Eidren came up with a solution immediately.

  He has wanted to die all along, all this time. His death drive. His thanatos.

  Forwards. But with cold hindsight, instead of the passion of the heat of the moment.

  I can’t hurt Queen Talisa. I can’t hurt my own mother. This is the only way to- to what? This doesn’t make sense; she’s going to die anyway. Pointless. Irrational.

  You can’t do this. Give me back my agency.

  You disrespect me by taking away my body like this.

  You’re not in your right mind.

  I’ve never been more in my right mind.

  He wanted to die a martyr, he wanted to die a hero, he wanted to sacrifice himself for his sisters, his brothers, his mother, his love, because of the damn trolley problem.

  Contract back. Thirteen revolutions old Eidren Talauth outside of the growing tank, having dinner with his visiting mother. A rare delight. They were having Aryssal cheeseburgers, as always. The food of the Aryssal elite. And purple sweet potato fries, she wanted to make sure he got his nutrition. She didn’t want to tax him psionically, so she used her own voice.

  “So, there is a trolley running down a track, and you are at the switcher, and there are five people tied on one track, and one person tied on the other, and the trolley would run over the five people and kill them- But. But you could pull the switcher lever, and it would instead switch to the track with one person and stop. It would kill that person, but you would save five lives. What do you do?”

  “Who tied them? Mf-” A scarf and a chew, talking with mouth open, “Kick their ass.”

  “Eidren this is- it’s a thought experiment. It’s too late for that and I guess he’s already dead. And don’t chew with your mouth open. Anyway. Pull the lever, or not?”

  Swallow. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not up for me to decide whether he gets to live or die.”

  Interesting. Elvans very rarely chose this way.

  “What would you do, then? Five people are in danger.”

  “You said that it would stop if it hit that one person? I mean, doesn’t that mean it wouldn’t kill all five anyway? Too much inertia to plow through.”

  Elvans were too smart for their own good sometimes. “I suppose so.”

  Without hesitation, “I would run up in front of the train and stop it myself.” He went back to his burger.

  “You’re not Spider-Man!”

  “Wait, which one?”

  “Tobey Maguire, of course. Duh.” She rustled his hair. Oh, he could be so cute sometimes, even though she had trained him to be a deadly killer since birth.

  Swallow. Big one, he bit off more than he could chew. “Well, it doesn’t matter if I die. If I could stop the trolley, then I saved all lives, and no one would have to die but me. Check, and mate, mother. I can’t choose if someone else gets to live or die. But I can choose whether I do.”

  Back.

  I can’t do without you.

  “I-” this time it was the hallucination that stuttered while the true lips spoke it clear, “I love you.”

  Once you fell in love with him…

  He dropped the gun; it clattered to the floor.

  Then if he died, it meant you would lose him.

  Ezreal and Enon couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing, it was so alien to them, so otherworldly, and yet, so timeless.

  And what kind of hero is that?

  He didn’t think he had ever cried this much before in his life, he was blubbering too, damn, this is truly a significant moment in his brief spark of existence and snot was dribbling out of his nose, he choked and gasped for breath for the whole mess was running down the back of his throat and swallowed the phlegm, so he could say:

  And that’s why he chose you.

  “I love you too.”

  You saved his life.

  He would have killed himself for me. His toxic mum. Who is now so glad.

  So glad that you saved my son’s life.

  I would not have survived this assault anyway, even if he was not in their number, I know when I have no more moves left to play, and that was a long time ago.

  Here, I have just been waiting for the end. Perhaps meeting it on my own terms would be preferable than just waiting for Godot.

  You loved him so much that he started loving himself. How can anyone truly love anything if they don’t love themselves first?

  And that’s why I love you, daughter-in-law, now that I can see that.

  Vilithe had fallen in love with Eidren all over again. And now she had fallen in love with his mum too.

  I love you too, mom. She thought this with sincerity to her mother-in-law.

  You do deserve him. How can you not? You can have him. He’s yours. You already have him.

  Vilithe felt immensely comforted by her mom. The cracking rift was fully mended, stronger now. Kintsugi. Bonded in gold. Better now. For the rest of her revolutions.

  Flaws are what make beauty. A diamond is just the same without the cutting, and the cutting will always have the hint of the maker.

  How do you define right? She thought back.

  It’s not so black and white, like in Star Wars. Light Side. Dark Side. Yin. Yang.

  The dot in the middle. The pale, blue dot.

  And then, back in Talisa’s mind - you’re just indoctrinated with what Dannelle has taught you. You’re a deontologist. I’m a utilitarian, or consequentialist. Just little technical differences there. Talisa quickly breezed through Vilithe’s conception of morality- Rawlsian Justice, Categorical Imperative, yada yada yada, freshman ethics 101. They should teach that in high schools.

  They stopped a long time ago. Ethics has no capital return.

  Well, they should. Then we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.

  You don’t see the big picture gurl. You only think in personal relationships because it was a small tight knit crew up there on Phyros.

  Allow me to bring up my favorite book, Dune.

  Imagine you are Paul Atreides. Muad’Dib. Emperor. You can see the future because you have dosed hard on spice, not just spice, the water of life. You see the probabilities before you, it fluctuates and radiates like a path before you. You can’t be certain where it will lead, just a general idea, but you are certain of the direction. Like trying to find the moon on a cloudy night. Like trying to look directly at the sun.

  You must put forth a massacre of sixty billion people. Long Live the Fighters. Sixty billion. Can you even imagine that? Begin to comprehend? Six times the number of godlike beings at the height of their civilization. Dead. Well, the godlikes are all dead now- did all the godlikes who ever lived number sixty billion in total?

  Easily. Easily twice that.

  But-

  -There is peace across the universe.

  A Eucatastrophe, you could say. Something good that happens after the Catastrophe. The Post-Post-Apocalypse.

  The Elvan Empire.

  And what did it need to build it? The fundamental foundation.

  Basically, ends justify the means, right?

  They both went to the exact same example.

  Effective.

  Altruism.

  Risk.

  Reward.

  Finally, a challenge, an equal test of ability. A debate.

  A conversation.

  Let’s call it friendly then. I shall start the opening salvo, and I shall play the defense, and you the prosecutor.

  Sounds good to me.

  Let me start with the foundational virtues of Effective Altruism. It’s in the name, really. First, effectiveness. You want your good to have a real effect on the real world, lasting impact, right? Second, impartiality. This is not very different from your Rawlsian Justice. Third, reason. Rationality. Logos. And that is your domain Vilithe. That is what you love. That is where you like to live. That is your home. How can good be understood without reason? And of course, that’s where you have your precious old school enlightenment boi Immanuel Kant.

  I have caught you in your own logic, Vilithe.

  No, there’s a difference between fighting for a fairer world, and deciding the fate of many others. The impartiality you speak of is just another thanatos. Impartial. Flip of a coin. The more you try and control, the closer you come to death. Life itself is uncontrollable, life is chaos.

  I see your logic is changing, Vilithe. I like where this is going.

  Though I have reason, I do so to find empathy. Reason is the only way to have empathy. Only through reason can we be outside of ourselves and inside another. Such is psionics. Effective altruism reduces everything to numbers. But only through empathy alone can I understand the chaotic beauty of love.

  Isn't everything numbers? Is mathematics not the foundation of physics, and music, and change itself? Your favorite branch. Derivatives. Always going faster Vilithe. Your spacetime is compressing upon itself to an inescapable black hole. You’re embracing chaos now and you are changing yourself fundamentally.

  I have already changed so much. I am changing right now. It is about risk in the end, after all. Take Sam Bankman-Fried, for example. Sam Bankman-Fried thought that the infinitesimal chance that his enormous risk could pay off into the power that could reshape the world into a better place, permanently, was worth his long incarceration. He had a hope. A dream. As misguided as it was. No risk, no reward, after all.

  He risked what rightfully belonged to others. Was it his call to make? They trusted him. Can you be trusted?

  I can only trust myself. That is all I am- the discovery of each moment, my identity. Maybe I will fail, I don’t know. But I must try, still, though the failure may be impossible to undo. I know what I risk. I am not as foolish as him. He felt that without free will he was not accountable. And so, he took the greatest risk without respecting it.

  I hold myself accountable for the risks I take.

  The basis of Effective Altruism is to accumulate as much power as possible, intending you know you shall do good with it. Plato’s Philosopher-King. Benevolent Dictator. As Maetra had believed she could become. This utilitarian-consequentialist framework – my framework – is totally alien to your deontological ethics, but it seems that you understand it now. Do you fully commit to this change in your worldview?

  I will find the middle path. The best of both worlds. It is worth it for a new world. A better world that will be. And it will be. I will make sure of it.

  I’m like Eidren now. I want to fight the good fight.

  Do you dare to take the ultimate risk then?

  The unorthodox way. As my mothers before me.

  To avenge elvankind.

  To avenge Eidren. To avenge you. To avenge my mother.

  To avenge me.

  It’s personal now. We have unfinished business.

  Are you sure you won’t regret what you might change into?

  It is too late to regret.

  Evolving.

  Just learning.

  Humility. Excellent. You will go far.

  I ask you now Vilithe, you must think long term.

  My mother thought about the long term. I do too.

  Your mother thought far too long term. She ran away from the problem.

  What is your goal, Vilithe?

  What is your dream?

  Be very honest now, now that you know all the facts. The facticities.

  I want to become the God Empress of Elvankind.

  I want to make things right again.

  The scene of sorrow floated away like a flutter of baby wyverns just hatching out of their eggs and exploring the world for the first time.

  And the Rogue Queen Talisa Talauth embraced her daughter-in-law, the Rogue Princess Vilithe Callethe.

  And the Rogue Princess Vilithe Callethe embraced her mother-in-law, the Rogue Queen Talisa Talauth.

  They held each other tight. They squeezed. Their mutual psionic energy bonded. A brief Gestalt of its own perhaps? Or an insertion?

  “You have passed the gauntlet of tests with flying colors my daughter,” she said, whispering sweetly, and sadly, into her new daughter’s ear.

  “Thank you, mom.” She was crying tears of joy, nothing but joy. The time stop had ended.

  “I give you this.”

  In Vilithe’s actual real hand now was a mahjong tile. Once again it broke the spacetime continuum. Once again it didn’t matter. There was magick and there was magic. Vilithe and Talisa withdrew from their embrace. Vilithe hadn’t opened up her hand yet to try her luck at what the tile might be.

  “Have you ever watched Crazy Rich Asians?”

  “Of course.”

  “You know the Mahjong Scene?”

  “Of course, Mom, why are you asking me things you can just take from my mind?”

  “I just like talking to you. Just chit chat.”

  “I like talking to you too, Mom.”

  “I’m surprised. Aren’t you a hipster? I thought you like Godard, why would you like Crazy Rich Asians?”

  “I can have my guilty pleasures, mom. It’s feel-good. Sometimes we need it in this grim and dark universe.”

  “You’re starting to sound like me now. Anyway, you won our little mahjong game, and I’m very proud of you.”

  “I appreciate that, mom.”

  “I love you, my daughter.”

  “I love you too, mom.”

  And they hugged again, Vilithe hadn't even uncovered the mahjong tile yet. She gripped it tight like an inception totem to make sure she wasn’t dreaming and that this wasn’t an imprinted false memory. But maybe she was dreaming? Maybe she was just a butterfly and she was just dreaming. Would it make it any less real?

  “Please take care of my Eidren, Vilithe. Please don’t mess with his mind too much. You are accountable for that now.”

  “I will mom. I promise.”

  Voli realized time is running out now and he had so many questions, and so he appeared and wrapped himself into a group hug with Vilithe and Talisa, and asked, “Ooh, ooh, Queen Talisa, I just need to know-”

  “-why does his nose look like Owen Wilson’s?”

  “Well, Eidren broke his nose. A lot. He has mostly Clan Talauth essence, and who knows what lost ethnicity that even is considering how much we elvans mixed and matched genes as we pleased, but in boredom I did some plastic spirit-surgery here and there, while he was gestating in the tank. I went for a young Takeshi Kaneshiro.”

  “I knew it! I knew I recognized that face.”

  “OH MY GOD!”

  “Vi-” scolded Talisa, “Must you take the Lord’s name in vain?”

  “I’m sorry! You just made Eidren so- so hot!”, Vilithe swooned.

  And they all wrapped once again in a family embrace.

  Elvans weren’t huggers.

  Talisa couldn’t help but feel a wistful longing for her own innocence, that she had lost so long ago. A part of her couldn’t bear to imagine what Vilithe might have to become. Would she end up an old Queen, filled with hate, like her? But there was no other course. She was Talisa’s champion now. She would take up the cause. Talisa had failed. Now, only this Rogue Princess could avenge elvankind.

  “One last thing, mother.”

  “Yes, daughter.”

  “Why did the Triumvirate come here in the first place?”

  And to this, Talisa really did have to laugh at that question for the reason really was so inane. And yet so endearing.

  “It was all Elon Musk’s fault. He inspired a dream in his daughter, Sidarael, to come here to Aryss, to settle, to colonize, to build civilization. He gave her a dream and she followed through. She got Maetra and I invested. Maybe me more than her. We fell hook line and sinker. She was charismatic. She led us.”

  “Ai-yah” - they were in unison, Vi and Voli.

  “That asshole?”

  “That asshole!”

  “Yep. That asshole.”

  Good luck, Vi Vi. You would make a fine God Empress of Elvankind. And I do believe that you will make it right for us all, in the end.”

  “From the bottom of my heart, thank you, my Goddess Mother.”

  She opened her palm. It was the Red Dragon. [紅中] The Middle Path.

  “For luck, my Goddess Daughter.”

  More than just God Like.

  More.

  Far more.

  Their infinite love for each other would never be enough for any other, that is the nature of infinity. It can simply never be reached unless it was always there to begin with. The love that could fill all the heavens of all the worlds.

  The love that could truly fill the universe.

  It didn’t take spirits. It didn’t need psionics.

  All it took was a connection.

  Mother and Daughter.

  The Godlikes really were Gods, and they didn’t even know it.

  She kissed her daughter, who has felt like family since the beginning of time, on the forehead, and caressed her cheeks, brushed the locks of her hair, and thought to herself- how perfect, how beautiful, this creation of God. This child of divinity. This Princess.

  Vilithe put her arms around her mother-in-law’s neck, who felt more like her own mother right now than Dannelle, but maybe they were all family since the beginning of time – stardust – and kissed her mother on the lips, just a brief peck, which her mother appreciated very much, for they knew it was a kiss goodbye. Not forever. But for now. And now was one thing that was undeniably infinite.

  “You will have my simulacrum at your disposal at any time you want Vilithe, and I will advise you. We can play mahjong sometime. With Eidren.”

  “I would like nothing more.”

  Psionic resurrection. Lazarus. The revival of the dead.

  The Good News. The Gospel for Apostle Eidren.

  Our Holy Mother is alive again.

  That was no less than what the simulacrum technique represented.

  The ultimate ability.

  Goddess Mother Talisa, truly immortal and unkillable now as long as Vilithe kept her simulacrum safe, relished the chance to be alive again, and to be useful, even if in some small capacity. Some small part to play in the greater order of things, the restoration of it. The return of primeval chaos to Pandora’s Box.

  Princess Vilithe was sobbing tears of joy again and she held on to her mother now so tight, not wanting to let go, not wanting this moment to end, afraid that if she let go that Talisa might be gone forever, “Thank you mother, thank you.”

  Tailsa knew better than that. This was just the beginning. She would have to guide her daughter through some terrible tribulations indeed. What she thought just happened- that was nothing. She was falling in young love these lunas, she was not truly facing the hardship of building a relationship that could last the test of time. Oh, she and the love of her life, which she put a little part of brain in the hilt of her sentient blade, her darling, stupid Masa, probably where Eidren got his moronic thanatos from, knew about that all too well.

  “The pleasure is mine, my dear daughter. Welcome to the family.”

  They held each other like this in silence for as long as they needed.

  And this I know his teeth as white as snow, what a gas it was to see him, walk her everyday into a shady place… Gigantic. A big, big love. Lovely legs there are. What a big black mass, what a hunk of love.

  It never is, is it?

  Jhynie fucking hated it when Serun called her that. Why? It’s the same number of syllables! She wasn’t into shrubberies either.

  Elvano a elvano.

  Protect the V.I.P.

  Why didn’t Eidren just retreat, Auntie? Is he stupid? Yes, Voli, he is. Is there a lore reason for why he’s stupid? Also yes. We’ve covered that, Volent.

  Out by the box car waiting, take me away to nowhere plains. There is a wait- so long. You’ll never wait so long. – the Pixies

  Wait, hang on, is he the… manic pixie dream boi?

  Lok Dar.

  Oh no, are you saying… Yep – Voli – Avecia is Eidren’s ex. Well, kind of.

  Because things got so awkward between Avecia looking down on how stupid Eidren presented himself, that it fell completely apart. He just used bravado to try and get into Avecia’s pants, basically ‘assuming’ they were together, and signaling to everyone else that they were dating. No one bought it, and Avecia just disliked Eidren more. In fact, Eidren was still a virgin. And Vilithe was delighted by that.

  She’s got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories- where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky. Now and then when I see her face she takes me away to that special place. And if I stare too long I’d probably break down and cry.

  Feet in the air, head on the ground. Try this trick, and spin it.

  And I want you, we can bring it on the floor. You’ve never danced like this before, we don’t talk about it. Dancin’ on, doin’ the boogie all night long, stoned in paradise. Shouldn’t talk about it.

  Mama, put my guns in the ground. I can’t shoot them anymore. That cold black cloud is comin’ down…

  Even Enneagram Type One could be a little vain sometimes.

  Compare and contrast. Find the variables. Find the controls.

  Now why does that feel familiar, thought Mal.

  Supposedly.

  All I could manage was to get him to listen to the Pixies. Mom, oh my God, I really like the Pixies too! Who doesn’t?

  I got no lips, I got no tongue. Where there were eyes there’s only space.

  Slow as it may be, though fast to arouse.

  Oh, we spirits are guilty of this one too, aren’t we. Well, you didn’t have to read the footnotes, scryer. We warned you!

  If the opponent plays scissors to your scissors to a draw, play rock- the opposite of what was expected. He will expect you to play what beats scissors, but not what will lose to scissors. Not the most comprehensive heuristic but it worked well enough for the moment.

  This counter sounds awfully familiar.

  Shoryuken

  Woah, mom, that is so cool, did you put that into all your carapaces? Bet, daughter, bet. Clan Talauth has style, you know. Speed before brute force, not like Maetra.

  The ultimate. The ougi.

  All your base are belong to us.

  Remember these words, Knight in Shining Armor.

  For great justice, send off every zig.

  Full tilt, held smash, with the twinkle and everything.

  How dare you beat up our boi toy!

  Civilization has absolutely no need of nobility or heroism. These things are symptoms of political inefficiency.

  Eidren knew ‘If this be my destiny…’ too, by tapping into the legacy.

  It’s a subtle art.

  For example, puppeteering vassals to execute their own sisters. Was that necessary? Even though they could do it, did they really need to?

  I didn’t do it for my family. I… liked it. I was good at it. It made me feel alive.

  Gezzno af.

  Well basically that’s what happened, wasn’t it? The highlight reel. The clip episode. Interdimensional Cable.

  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind! Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resigned.

  And maybe some Psychology 101, and some Economics 101, and some Political Theory 101, and maybe some Astronomy 101, and maybe some Biology 101…

  Of a war, or of a trial. Or both. Welcome to the Crucible.

  EA sports. It’s in the game.

  “You become the new God Empress. Nothing changes. You only seek power.” - Eidren

  She really needed to, if she was going to rule. Kant would have made a terrible King. The decision of what to trade off needed to be made.

  It would be a roaring rampage of revenge.

  You can’t play not to lose, you have to play to win. Someone has to get hurt.

  Only a fool folds a winning hand.

  Well, there’s no winning, you made sure of that.

  There is a Hokkien phrase. ‘Kaki lang’ - our kind of people.

  All you’re thinking about is your own happiness. But it’s an illusion. Build something that lasts.

  My mother taught me how to play.

  My mother taught me too.

  Negotiation, strategy, cooperation.

  She remembered what butterflies were.

  I wanna break this spell that you’ve created, your something beautiful, a contradiction. I wanna play the game. I want the friction. You will be the death of me. Our time is running out. How did it come to this?

  To recall: Talisa began to believe in God, after she gave birth to Eidren. While she couldn’t figure out which God it was, she wasn’t taking any chances. She was certain she’d already earned her place in hell, otherwise. Much like Deyandra, she was making Pascal’s Wager.

  “By the way, Vi.”, “Yes, Mom?”, “That song of Eidren’s and yours, the Caribou one. The anthem of your love.”, “Can’t Do Without You?” “Yes, well chosen. I’m partial to the Tale of Us & Mano Le Tough Remix, but the original was a better fit here.”, “Don’t know that one…” It took but a picosecond for Vilithe to listen to and appreciate the recommendation. Psionics saves a lot of time. “Banger, Mom. Banger.” “Always. All bangers, all the time.” Unlike another, Talisa had succeeded at succeeding.

  How else was it going to be truly sentient? A truly sentient spirit, sentient as a person, that was a psionic limit that had yet to be breached. And then Talisa breached it.

  She’d better recommend Gottman. Well- in due time. Let them have their fun. She hid this thought well enough that even Vilithe could not find it.