Shit shit shit. Fucking incubus! Internally I seethe with rage at the imp’s inevitable betrayal, but outwardly I wear a gentler mask of confusion, concern, and a touch of embarrassment. I start to formulate a reply, but a whisper stops me.

“Don’t panic. You’re doing great.” It’s Cheshire’s voice, emanating from nowhere. Where the fuck have you been? I take her advice, even if I’m annoyed to only start receiving it after all that conversation.

After a pause, Esha speaks again. “With her shroud, my second sight cannot be trusted. I shall have to rely on my other senses, then, and on my intuition. Both of which, it would seem, are telling me that you, Maven Alice, are a great deal different than Bashekehi the Ever-Gleaming led me to believe.”

Play it cool. This is what we built the mask for. I wince and scratch my head sheepishly. “Ah, yeah, I um… my apologies about that. I’m afraid Bashe saw me at my absolute worst these past couple days. I was… unsettled by my shocking arrival in the Labyrinth, and I think I’ve been unfair to him. I just… I never really had a life of adventure before coming here, y’know? I was something of a shut-in back home, and I wasn’t prepared for the stresses of real conflict and real danger.” I let genuine nervousness bleed into that last line.

“That stress is completely understandable,” the priestess reassures me. “Few of us take to the Labyrinth easily. Still, he raised questions that I find interesting.”

“Such as?”

“Mm. Allow me to start with this: why did you become a demon? I do not wish to judge, only learn.” Again her voice is kind and gentle to a uniquely grating degree.

Core of truth, shell of creativity. You’ve got this. I look away from her and chew on my lip. “I… I was scared. I was scared and I didn’t understand, and I still don’t. Not fully. I’d heard stories of demons, rumors of demons, but I’d never seen a demon. Never spoken to one. They never felt real. Like storybook monsters. When I met my geist, when it made that offer, I… I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

Cheshire’s quiet laughter echoes around me, but the priestess and warrior give no sign of hearing it.

The priestess nods. “And if it were a choice? If you, in the situation you are in now, were offered that choice again?”

I visibly and audibly hesitate, hoping to strengthen the impression that I’m considering the matter carefully. “I think that… I’m not sure. I don’t know. I’ve heard so many bad things about demons, about geists, about being what I am now, but I don’t… I don’t feel like a monster. Not yet, I guess. It just feels like power. It is power, isn’t it? And power is safety.”

“There are other forms of power,” Esha points out, “and other forms of safety. Few paths to power are as dangerous as the one you now walk, Alice. For the body, or for the mind.”

I laugh bitterly. “Yeah. Bashe said about the same.” I hug myself somberly. “Is that it, then? Am I cursed? Doomed to become some monster unfit for a place like this?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. No one is beyond help. It is rare, yes, but there have been demons that strived to retain their humanity. If you truly wish to resist the call of the Abyss, I will do everything in my power to help you navigate those waters.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I’ll remember that.”

She smiles softly and says, “Bashekehi’s description of you was not wholly negative, you should know. He said that you were creative, and clever, and very driven. Those are admirable traits, and we would be happy to make use of them. Do you think those traits are what drew the geist to you?”

Flattery and reframing to make me more open in answer. Hmmph. “Maybe,” I answer evasively. “Maybe I was just an easy mark. Or maybe it saw something in me that no one else has. I find it impossible to tell.”

Esha muses, “The ways of geists are often inscrutable. What commonality is there between the child that became Wonder and the monster that became Malice?” I suppress a shiver at my almost-name. “Within this community, we call an imp of Muse our friend and comrade. Indulgence and Contrition have both caused great harm, but they are opposite as can be in all other ways. What do you share with all those once-demons? What kind of demon are you going to be?”

Wonder. Malice. Muse. Indulgence. Contrition. That’s five archdemons I know for certain, now. Given the naming schema, I suspect Acuity is among their number as a sixth. That leaves only two archdemons unaccounted for. “I’m not sure. But, if I were to guess… maybe it’s a kind of yearning. That I share with them, I mean. Maybe we all have something we want so badly it makes the Abyss itself notice.”

“And what is it that you want?” she asks gently, insistently.

I want to survive. I want to be stronger. I want to see everything there is to see, to learn everything there is to learn. I want to be loved. I want to be feared. I want to rule.

I want to be more than that scared little girl alone in her room, hiding from the rest of the world.

But aloud, I say, “I want to be safe, and I want to learn, and I want to–omigosh what is that???”

I point excitedly at the gelatinous blob of clear non-Newtonian fluid and soap bubbles that has just oozed into view. The slime slides over the stone tiles of the grand chamber, but instead of leaving a mucus trail like slimes in all the media I’ve consumed, it leaves behind a sparkling clean layer of rapidly-evaporating soapy water.

I skip over to the featureless mass of soap-jelly and lean over to beam at it. “You’re so adorable!!! Hello! Hi!” I wave at it cheerfully.

The slime stops oozing forward and wobbles in place, vibrating in an erratic pattern. A single pseudopod rises hesitantly out of the main mass and wiggles back-and-forth in a motion vaguely reminiscent of my waving. “Hello,” it says, its voice wavering and quiet.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Words cannot describe the effervescent joy that bubbles up in my chest at that cute-as-heck voice coming from that absurdly adorable slime.

Esha walks over (Achaia shadowing her, of course) and puts her hand over her mouth to stifle a chuckle. “I see you’ve found Bubbles, our resident custodian. I’m afraid they’re a bit shy, but I’m sure they appreciate the enthusiasm. Bubbles, this is Alice.”

“They,” not “it.” Noted. “Are they kindred, or are they a homunculus?” I feel like it’s a safe bet that Bubbles falls under one of those two categories, so this should hopefully reinforce the impression that I am definitely from part of Pandaemonium. Also, I want to pet the slime so badly.

“Kindred,” Esha confirms. “Bubbles was supplicant to an eidolon of public health, once, and came to that eidolon seeking transformation. Before the Labyrinth, they used the properties of their form to clean public infrastructure. Now, they find meaning in tending to this community center.”

I lean down farther, look Bubbles dead in the lack-of-eyes, and say, “I would die for you.” The creature vibrates a bit more, but then returns to their previous path of soapy oozing. “You’re doing great,” I whisper to Bubbles as they leave.

I do actually find the slime very cute, but I’m mostly putting on airs to convince the priestess I’m harmless. Also, there was an interesting phrase used just then. I look back at Esha and ask, “And, sorry, you called this place a ‘community center?’ I was told it’s a shrine.”

“It is, in some respects. But I prefer to think of it as a community center, as many of our members still keep faith in the spirits of their homeworlds, and religiosity is by no means a requirement to join the Myriad. All of good intent are welcome here.”

There’s that disqualifying phrase again. I could reassure her that I am of good intent, but I’m competing with whatever Bashe’s told her. So what’s a good way to change that impression, more than I already have? I glance around the room and my gaze alights on the various attendants and citizenry milling about. Idea. “This may seem off-topic, but… can I ask a question about the people in this room?”

Esha nods calmly. “You may.”

“Are they… are these figments? The people in the robes, or the people not wearing robes, or both?”

“They are, both groups. I take it the Labyrinth is your first experience with figments?”

“I’ve only read about them, and heard about them from others.” I fake hesitation, then barrel on, “Hey, so, I kind of have to hear what you think about something. Because Bashe told me that the figments of this city aren’t people. He said they don’t matter, that their lives don’t matter, that they’re just disposable. And I know they’re not conscious like we are, yeah, but it still doesn’t sit right to look someone in the eye and treat them like they’re not deserving of the same respect as anyone else. Is that really how everyone here feels?”

I’m hoping to challenge Bashe’s standing and strengthen my own with the same move. If I can invalidate the negative aspects of his character judgment of me, it should hopefully be easier to endear myself to the Myriad. Assuming the Myriad actually do care about the figments more than Bashe seemed to. I admit that part of my strategy is a bit of a gamble.

Esha smiles sympathetically. “I can assure you that it is not. That position is often stated by those with an interest in exploiting figments, but it is not universal. From our viewpoint in the Myriad, the figments of Sanctuary 7 are the original inhabitants of this city and deserve to be treated with respect, especially when you consider how much they do for us on a daily basis. We value the figments, and the ideals that govern them.”

I smile back. “I have to admit, I’m relieved to hear you say that.”

Achaia, largely silent for this conversation, adds, “There’s a pragmatic element to it, too: if you treat them poorly, it’s easy to get stuck in a pattern of treating everyone poorly. ‘Course, that’s not a huge deterrent to most of Vaylin’s or Averrich’s followers.”

“How pleasant,” I mutter. “Would be great if both of them could just fuck off.”

The priestess sighs. “Were it so easy.” She turns back to the pool and seems to contemplate it quietly. She traces a hand through the air and whispers something under her breath, and a breeze smelling of fresh flowers wafts past me. Esha nods. “Well, I hope this has all been… enlightening. Now, about something you said before… you offered to help us, if you can. Is that still something you want?”

I nod firmly. “Absolutely. Listen, I got distracted earlier, but that third thing I want: it’s to fix things. I was a nobody before coming here. I never did anything with my life. I never made any kind of a difference to anybody. But now… now I can. I have power, for the first time ever, and I want to use it. So I want to help, as much as I can.” I tighten my fists, put an edge in my voice, and say, “I have words for Averrich, too, if I ever see him.”

“You wouldn’t be the only one,” Achaia mutters, rolling her shoulders. “That bastard will get what’s coming to him, it’s just a matter of time.”

Esha says, “The Myriad would be happy to welcome you into our community, if that is something you wish for. Those who swear a vow to the city spirit are granted an invocation you may find helpful, if you intend to challenge the King’s Carnival. Of course, you may still work alongside us and take refuge in the community center even if you do not join, but we would be grateful to have you.”

“What would that entail?” I ask. “Joining, I mean.” I don’t particularly want to be part of their little society, since that seems like it would conflict with my mid-term goal of carving out a fiefdom to be Dark Lord over, but if it’s not too onerous then it might be worth playing along for a while.

“You would vow to uphold the Truths of this city, and in return our eidolon would grant you the power to commune with the city whenever you are in its bounds. You would protect the people of this city, you would strive for peace, and you would welcome all of good intent.” There’s weight to those words, something I can just barely feel in the air.

“Mm. I’d be tempted to agree without taking the time to consider if, but I actually don’t think I could make that vow right now: my pleroma was damaged in an encounter with a Mourner, and I doubt it’s fully healed yet. I don’t have the space in my soul for another invocation.” This one isn’t even a lie at all; I genuinely don’t think my pleroma has healed yet.

I see something oddly like guilt pass over Esha’s face. “Ah, my deepest condolences. I…”

Achaia rests her armored hand on Esha’s shoulder and squeezes. The priestess’ expression softens as she looks up at her bodyguard, and I immediately have two thoughts: one, that these two are hella gay for each other; and two, that Esha somehow feels guilty over my encounter with the Mourner??? Like. My facial reading skills aren’t perfect, but they’re a lot better than they were when I was a kid, and that expression reads like guilt.

What the fuck is up with that?

“Sorry, is there context I’m missing?” I ask aloud.

Achaia shakes her head. “Just old history. We’ve lost a lot of friends to the Beast over the years.”

Yeah, no, that’s definitely not it. Keep your secrets, for now, but I will uncover them eventually.

“Regardless,” Esha says, “you raise a valid concern. Please, take the time to recover, and then find us with your answer when you are ready.”

I nod. “I’ll do that, thanks. And… I hope we can work together to make this city a better place.”

“I do as well.”

The priestess calls over a figment attendant to usher me out, and I accept the offer graciously. As soon as I’m outside the shrine–community center, to use their words–and out of earshot of the guards, I glare at my own shadow and snap, “What was that? Where did you go?”

Cheshire emerges from darkness and gives me a wink. “Aw, did you miss me?”

I hiss at the offending creature. “I could have used a little warning there, or some fucking help. That was stressful! I could have died!”

Cheshire waves a hand dismissively and blows air at me. “Don’t be absurd. Those bleeding hearts don’t have the guts to execute someone in cold blood. You were fine, Alice. I knew you could handle it, and I was right; you did a great job.”

I grumble and cross my arms. “Yeah, well, it was still a gamble. I would appreciate it, in the future, if you would give me whatever help you can. Two heads are better than one, y’know?”

The catgirl giggles. “Are you saying you need me, darling?”

I give a very dramatic and exasperated sigh. “I am saying that I am out of my league and can’t do this alone. So fuckin’ pitch in, alright?”

“Hehe. Yeah, I can do that. But really, you were doing fine. I even spied on them or a little bit after you left, and it seems they really did buy your act.”

“Well, at least that’s something.” I sigh again, this one more natural. “Okay. Another crisis dealt with, and I guess we have some breathing room. I’m starting to get an idea of how this city operates, and what my role in this drama is going to be. I should try to feed again before I run into any more gangers, and I need to start worrying about power progression, but I do seem to recall one other step I can take to make everything I do just a little bit more effective.”

“Shopping time!” Cheshire cheers.

“Shopping time,” I agree, and we set off in search of a mall.