There was a state between consciousness and sub-consciousness. She did not know what it was, nor was she able to put it in those terms. This was a realm of psychology that was probably more metaphorical than literal. For most people. Lyssa’s mind was hanging on by a thread, almost have been. Metaphor was what kept it together. The mansion, the elevator, the woodland: places that did not exist unless she thought about them.

She was in a wholly different place now. A field of stones. It was as dark as the new moon, but she could see everything just fine. The field folded high into the sky and came back around like the inside of a marble. At the center was the mind mansion. It was trapped in a glass ball.

What is this place? She could ask. But there were no words here. Just the field, and the stones. Upon inspection, they were headstones. Graves. All of them had her name on it. And she immediately knew what that meant. This was where they went when were forgotten. Selves that didn’t work, Selves that were consumed.

Stones were not the only inhabitant of this nightmare realm. Something scratched the ground as it strolled about the place. It plodded along under a large, black hood. Its footsteps were plentiful, like a centipede’s. Its limbs sounded like the friction between brass and bearings. It ignored Lyssa, busy with its work under the hood. Lyssa reached out and grabbed a part of the cloak, pulling it back. The being was a hunchback, a skeleton of gold and copper. Countless cogs rattled in its chest cavity. It had too many ribs, too many vertebra, too many arms and legs. But it only had one face, her face, except it was not made of flesh but woven out of cloth and thread. And in its many skeletal fingers was a naked doll of Lyssa’s body. Many needles and threads plunged into the doll’s skin and exited.

This was the Caretaker. Technically, the first Self, though it did not seem to have a mind of its own. It had spawned when her grandfather implanted her with the insanity inducing gift of spontaneous evolution. It was the one that had repaired her body. Which meant one thing.

No.

Her overuse of her own gifts had given her a heart attack. This was the graveyard. The things here were dead. She had strained her frail body too much when she destroyed that category 5 machine. Which meant she was ineffective as a Primum, unfit to take charge of the body, to be Lyssa.

No! They’re my memories. My friends. I will not give them away!

A new Primum would spawn. She would have her memories, her experiences, but see things slightly differently. Whoever came next would not be her. But from here she could still see the sky above the mansion, where the real world was reflected. She saw Ecto trying to help. And then she saw the last face she had ever wanted to see again. She slammed her fists on the glass ball that contained her mind. But it would not yield. She cried and screamed, but no sound came out. This was the graveyard. Dead things should be silent.

--

“You do it,” Xiaoshu said.

“Wha- why me?” Ecto protested.

“She feels like straw. I might break her. You have to do it.”

Ecto made a face, but quickly relented. Lyssa was laid out on the asphalt. Ecto began to perform CPR. A series of compressions, then the breath of life. Of course, all nascent heroes knew basic first aid, but not with real people and real stakes. Xiaoshu was right as well. Lyssa was about average height, but felt no more than ninety odd pounds. It seemed a feat alone that she did not blow away in the wind.

“Girl needs a sandwich,” Ecto commented as she continued trying to get Lyssa to take a breath on her own.

“She… did not have the best life, from what I remember,” Xiaoshu said.

A minute had passed. Xiaoshu kept an eye on their surroundings, but grew more worried by the second. Why weren’t the prevention teams coming? Surely they must have noticed. He was beginning to forget about the game, and of his need to win. Eventually, Ecto stopped.

“Why did you-?” Xiaoshu began.

“She’s heating up,” Ecto said. “This was not in CPR training.”

There was a myriad of small cuts on Lyssa’s face. Larger gashes had even tore through her Mimicrine suit, inflicted when she had forced herself through the hull of that giant machine. They had all begun to mend. In a few blinks it was finished. There weren’t even scars left.

“Wow,” Ecto said. “Why did I bother?”

“She’s not waking up,” Xiaoshu said.

“Very astute, but she’s breathing.”

“But she’s not waking up!”

“Well what do you want me to do about it?! I’m not a…” A flash of light pulled both the students’ attentions. “…doctor.”

Three personnel dressed in official M.A.G.E livery had teleported several meters away. Two were dressed as guards. The one in the middle sported a long lab coat.

“I happen to be a doctor,” she said.

“Professor Verruck?” Xiaoshu said.

“Sorry for being late,” Verruck said as she walked over and knelt down to examine Lyssa. “The pissing contest between some of the more potent students had created a lot of serious injuries.”

Xiaoshu stepped back to give her room. He was not a doctor either, but something about the way Verruck ran her finger along Lyssa’s skull and neck did not strike him as standard procedure.

“Can you make sure she’s okay?” he said loudly.

“I see…” Verruck whispered. If she had heard Xiaoshu’s demand, she did not visibly acknowledge it. “Such a beautiful physiology.”

Ecto floated close to Xiaoshu’s ear.

“Why is she leering at her?” Ecto whispered.

“I apologize for my impatience,” Xiaoshu said, a little more aggressively. “But we have a game to win. We would like our teammate back on her feet.”

The guards raised their eyebrows, unimpressed. With the delicacy of a mother to a newborn babe, Verruck slipped her fingers underneath Lyssa’s neck, cradling her spine. The doctor’s eyes flashed purple. Then she stood to her feet and returned her hands back in her coat pockets.

“Looks like I didn’t need to do much,” Verruck said.

“What? Then-” Xiaoshu did not finish.

Lyssa’s eyes snapped open and she sprang to her feet. She glanced around her wildly, as though waking from a dream. The dazed look quickly sharpened into a glare.

“How are you still employed?” Lyssa said with a snarl.

“How dare you?” Verruck remarked with a gasp. But it was clear she was not taken aback in the slightest. “I just brought you back!”

“I should kill you,” Lyssa said.

“The person who just saved you from ego death?” Verruck said.

“I would have found a way out!”

Verruck smiled. “Be seeing you,” she said. She turned to leave.

“Who are you to this school?” Lyssa asked venomously before Verruck went.

“Hm… M.A.G.E has a reputation for zero fatalities,” Verruck said. “Simply put, it’s not a covered-up lie, it’s completely true. Me, my work, my gift. I’m invaluable. Oh come now, don’t look at me like that. That self-recovery gift of yours and my biomancy is quite similar. We’re practically sisters.”

Before Lyssa could tell her exactly what she thought of that comparison, there was another flash of light. The personnel were gone.

There was nothing more she could do. Lyssa owed Verruck now. It made her sick. Her only consolation was that she could return to saving her friends. Hers, and no one else’s.

“We should go,” she said.

Xiaoshu and Ecto exchanged worried looks. They could only follow her in silence.