The transition wasn’t instantaneous. Although Randel’s body soaked up the shades like a dry sponge, he swayed on his feet until his mind adjusted. The shades had no recollection of the time they spent apart, and so they processed his memories to catch up.

Devi wondered whether the same was true while Randel was awake. Logic dictated that it worked the same way. It held terrific implications. The shades could take control of Randel in an instant – Devi had seen it happen many times – which meant that they were constantly possessing him. They were riding along with his thoughts just so they could take over at a moment’s notice.

“Huh,” shade-Randel said as he wiped at his face. “Getting sentimental, are we?”

His entire posture changed as he turned around, becoming more confident and predator-like. Devi was used to the disturbing sight by now, and so she showed no visible reaction. No fear, no anger, no desperation. She wouldn’t give the shades that satisfaction. She would remain calm. Shade-Randel walked around her in a circle, the couch they had been lying on suddenly nowhere to be seen.

“We need to talk,” Devi said, turning to keep her eyes on him. “You kept things from me. You didn’t share your plan with me about luring your prey into the Dungeon.”

“So?”

“So it was a disaster. You should communicate with me. Together, we could have come up with a better plan.”

Shade-Randel gave her a blank stare, saying nothing. As if Devi’s argument was so weak that it was barely worth entertaining. He stopped by the black screen on the wall, which was larger than Devi remembered it to be. It wasn’t showing other Humans anymore, reflecting shade-Randel’s image instead.

“We’ve explained this to you already,” shade-Randel’s reflection said. “Sharing all of our plans is unnecessary and risky. There is nothing you can contribute.”

“You’re a useful tool,” shade-Randel added, “but that doesn’t mean we want your opinions. To put it in simple terms even you can understand, a warrior doesn’t ask his sword for advice.”

“You’re lucky that part of us likes you,” the reflection continued. “That’s the only reason we tolerate your amateur attempts at pulling information from us.”

Devi clenched her jaw to bite back an offensive-remark. She knew it from her past in the Royal Court that she wasn’t good at verbal-sparring. She could be manipulative if she wanted to, but doing it subtly enough so that the shades didn’t realize? Impossible. Night after night, dream after dream, Devi tried. The shades were as stubborn as Randel. They knew what she wanted and they wouldn’t give it to her. It was time to change tactics. Devi had to do something they didn’t expect. She strode to shade-Randel with two quick steps, then punched him in the face.

Her fist connected with a loud smack. Even the reflection in the screen jerked back, clutching his nose. Devi kicked out while shade-Randel was reeling, aiming for his groin. Her kick never connected. It should have, but she found the distance between herself and shade-Randel bigger than it should have been. Worse yet, the leg she had extended got stuck between the bars of a large cage. A cage around her that hadn’t been there before. Devi hopped on one foot, trying to pull her leg back from between the vertical bars, except now the cage had horizontal bars too and her foot was boxed in.

“Nice try,” shade-Randel’s reflection said. He grabbed the screen’s edges and stepped through it as if it was a window. His hair turned white and his skin got wrinkled as he emerged. He was the shade Randel called Lee.

“I hope you don’t mind if we retaliate,” another reflection said. Tamie. Her hair grew longer and her features became more feminine as she climbed after Lee. “Let us show you how to properly fight in here.”

“Physical strength means nothing,” Lee said. “Let us hope this won’t break your mind … too much.”

Long spikes grew out of the metal bars, pointing at Devi, and then the walls of the cage began to bend inward and push the tips of those spikes gradually closer to her. Devi focused her mind, imagining that the spikes weren’t actually there. A few of them blinked out of existence, but those that grew next to her stuck leg didn’t. They felt too real, cold metal pressed close to her skin. Her concentration wavered, and then the spikes she had already banished grew back all around her, their sharp ends closing in quickly—

“Alright, that’s enough,” Randel said. The entire cage vanished and Devi’s leg came free, putting her off-balance and making her fall backward. Soft pillows appeared under her and she landed on them, then the entire dream-scape tilted until the gravity-center was underneath Devi and she found herself on her feet again. The pillows dropped to the floor and vanished. The walls looked tilted as if the room had sunk halfway into the floor.

“What—” Devi said, looking around. All the furniture were stuck in their original place, defying gravity. “How?”

“You could do that too, with a bit of practice,” Randel said, looking distant. “You just have to imagine it.”

“Practice?” Devi asked, her voice a little shaken. When did Randel practice this? He talked as if imagining an entire room turn to its side was easy—and he had done it only so that she got to her feet more quickly. Amazing. If this power could be used against the shades…

Devi held out her hand, imagining how it felt to hold Silverfang. The weight and the texture. The elation and pride at owning it. The strength it represented. The power to fight back. Devi’s blade of bright energy appeared in her grip right away, and she pointed it at the shades. They watched her with bored expressions, clearly unimpressed.

“When I said practice,” Randel said, “I didn’t mean jumping straight into a fight with Tamie and Lee.”

Devi ignored his remark. Randel was unable to go against the parasites in his mind, so confronting them fell on Devi’s shoulders. There was a high-chance that she might not succeed tonight, but then she would just try again next time. She always did.

A circle of tarnished metal appeared on Devi’s off-hand as she imagined holding a shield. She hadn’t actually worn one before – she had always been using her portals – and so the details of her shield looked fuzzy. She imagined the toughest material in the world, something tough-enough to stop shades, and the metal on her arm turned black like Randel’s dagger. Yes, now it was truly a shield. Devi might not have much imagination, but she had plenty of willpower to throw around.

The shades were waiting for her to finish, unafraid and amused. That didn’t bode well, did it?

“A Sylven to the bone,” Lee said. “It turns out that even their women are no exception. It’s always the same things on their mind: fight and take and conquer.”

“You don’t know us,” Devi said, shifting her grip on Silverfang. Was it just her imagination, or did it feel heavier? “You may have possessed Sylven people before, but you don’t know us.”

Sylven waged wars often, that much was true, and Devi couldn’t deny that she outright hated the culture and the traditions she had grown up with. Yet when a pair of monsters like these shades were insulting her entire race, she couldn’t help but feel offended. They were just shades of real people. Mockeries. They couldn’t possibly know what it was to be Sylven.

“We don’t know?” Tamie asked. “Please. We know who your Creator was, mortal. Your species was literally born to do one thing: war.”

“You lie,” Devi said. She was struggling to hold Silverfang now—it felt so heavy! She tried to imagine it getting lighter, but the weight in her hand convinced her otherwise. The shades began to walk around her, Lee to the left, Tamie to the right. Randel leaned against the wall of the room, looking thoughtful. He would not interfere; he knew this was Devi’s fight.

“Even after we told you that physical strength means nothing here,” Lee said, “you hold onto that sword as if it was of any help.”

Silverfang suddenly felt too heavy for Devi to keep it upright. She dropped it, and it vanished before it could have hit the ground. The shades had disarmed her before she could have a single swing at them.

“A mistake in my approach,” Devi admitted, “but I’m a fast learner.”

“As expected from the creation of Professor Richard Sylven. Your mind adapts quickly.”

“What?”

“Strong bones and high muscle density,” Lee said. “Improved sight and hearing. Blue skin that protects against harmful radiation. Focused, strong mind that is much more resilient to trauma.”

“A supersoldier,” Tamie agreed. “Professor Sylven was truly an exceptional man.”

“What are you talking about?” Devi asked. She turned around, but the shades circled her in a way that she could never see both of them at once. “Do you really know the Creator?”

“We know things that you cannot even begin to imagine, mortal.”

“We know things that would break you, mortal. Let that sink in.”

“Answer my question please,” Devi said, getting impatient. “Do you know the Creator?”

“We do, and a lot more,” Lee said. “We were there when the first of you climbed out of your incubators. We were there when hundreds of you died in pointless battles. We were there when you claimed your rights through rebellion. We were there when you coexisted in relative peace. And we were there when you outlived the Humans in the apocalypse.”

Devi drew in a sharp breath, meeting Randel’s wide eyes across the room. He looked just as shocked as she did. If what the shades were saying was true, then—

“Our Creator is a Human?” Devi asked.

“Yes,” Lee and Tamie said in unison. “Your god was a mortal who has been dead for a long, long while. Does it frighten you, Devi? Does it shock you that your Divine Codex is a sham? You always wanted to become a warrior. Does it break your heart to realize that you’re following what you were designed to do? Does it make you anguish that you’re just like every other Sylven?”

Devi bit her lip, reeling mentally as the shades turned everything she had ever known upside-down. Ylvasil’s forgotten technology. The caustic environment. The skewed male-female ratio. They all made much more sense now.

“That’s—” Devi began to speak, then took a deep breath and tried again. “That’s interesting. Please tell me more.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. I want to learn more! You always tell me that you wouldn’t speak to me because the Inspectors might overhear your plans. But if you’re talking about history then it hardly matters, does it? They know about history already. Nothing stops you from telling me the truth about the universe.”

Behind her, Randel laughed. His laugh was rich and pure and full of fondness that made the frown on the shades’ faces all the sweeter. In that moment, Devi felt invincible. The shades were never going to find weakness within her.

Their revelation was shocking, that much was true. It was a lot to take in and a lot to accept. Devi could do it, though. She prided herself in seeing more clearly than the masses. She wasn’t blinded by propaganda, wasn’t chained by traditions or religion. She had always known that her world wasn’t perfect and that it never would be. She had accepted it long ago. So what was one more truth to it, really? Learning that ancient Humans created Sylven rattled her world-view, but it didn’t change who she was. The Abyss might take her one day, but until then she would be Devi of no House.

“Curious,” the shades said together. “You surprise us yet again.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“You have no free will,” the shades said. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I do have free will,” Devi said. “I have it, because if I didn’t, then I would be lying in a soft bed right now, well-fed and lazy, pregnant with a child. But I chose to live otherwise. I am my own person—which is already more than you can claim.”

“Applying mortal logic to us is useless,” the shades said, their faces carefully blank. It didn’t fool Devi; they definitely did not like her words. Perhaps as mere shades, they would not have cared—but as Lee and Tamie? They had agendas. They had opinions. They were doing their best to break Devi’s spirit, but they weren’t terribly good at it.

“How unfortunate,” Devi said. “Either way, I would like you to tell me more about history.”

“Why would we tell you anything?” Tamie asked. “There’s nothing for us to gain from it.”

“Aside from passing the time,” Lee added, “which we already have plenty of experience with how to do.”

“It’s an investment that costs you nothing,” Devi said, doing her best to come up with something that the shades valued. “If I’m aware of the big picture, then I might be able to help you with your war against these Pheilett aliens. Against the Inspectors.”

“There is nothing that Players can do against them,” Tamie said. “You are their plaything. You have always been.”

“We’ve always been because Players never knew anything. We are playing their game blind. We need someone to open our eyes, someone with countless years of experience and knowledge.”

Devi knew that her argument sounded solid to the shades; they were one-third Randel, after all. He would find this topic interesting. The big picture. While Devi preferred to deal with more practical and immediate things, Randel was a dreamer. He would enjoy learning more about the Inspectors.

“If you don’t want to tell me,” Devi said, “then at least tell it for Randel’s sake. Prepare him for the world out there.”

The shades said nothing, and Devi had a feeling that they wanted to refuse her just out of spite. They tilted their heads just a fraction, and the room dimmed. The walls shifted and extended, lifting the ceiling. Devi looked back where Randel had been leaning against the wall, but he was gone. When she turned back to the shades, she found only one person. Shade-Randel was sitting on a large iron throne, with the round table of the Dungeon’s council chamber standing between him and Devi. A stone stool grew out of the ground next to her leg.

“So be it,” shade-Randel said. “Take a seat.”

Devi looked down at her small stool, then up at shade-Randel’s throne.

“This is childish,” she said. She remained standing.

“Childish?” shade-Randel said, his tone violence-threatening. “You forget who you’re talking to, mortal. Your life is nothing but a fleeting moment during our countless years of existence. Yet you call us childish?”

“Yes.”

The room dimmed further, with only the holographic map of the city providing some light. Shade-Randel’s green eyes glowed in the dark as they bore into Devi. He would not intimidate her, though. She lifted her chin to meet his gaze properly. Shade-Randel grinned.

“Well, whatever,” he said. “It’s not like we care. Here, your reward for being so brave.”

The stool next to Devi grew somewhat bigger.

“Thanks,” Devi said, pursing her lips.

What was going on? She had to keep adjusting to shade-Randel’s abrupt mood changes. He was willing to indulge her though, so she had no reason to complain. She sat down on the stool, back straight, one leg crossed over the other. As dignified as she could look on it.

“So,” she said, “from Randel’s perspective, I come from the future.”

The longer she thought about it, the more excited she got. Her world was connected with Randel’s! She didn’t quite know how to wrap her head around such a thing, but she definitely wanted to learn more about it. Shade-Randel rested an elbow on the throne’s armrest, propping up his head as he regarded her.

“That’s not how we look at it,” he said. “Both you and us come from the past. Or at least you and our Human part do. It’s confusing, really.”

He didn’t look confused at all. His voice was low and self-assured, his posture carried lazy confidence.

“I see,” Devi said. “If it’s all in the past, then what happened to our planet? Did my people make it?”

“Of course not. You were already on the decline, and the Pheilett taking several thousands of you certainly didn’t help.”

Devi was suddenly glad that she had sat down. She could barely get the next few words out of her mouth.

“That’s genocide.”

“Not how they look at it. They preserved your species before you could go completely extinct.”

Devi closed her eyes. Extinct? That sounded so—dark. She had always known that her species didn’t have a long future ahead, not unless they fixed their gender ratio somehow. They had put so much effort into biological research, though. All that money, all those men working on a cure and they hadn’t ever succeeded? That was … sad. Truly, truly sad.

“What about Humans?” she quietly asked. “You talked about an apocalypse. Are there really none of them left? Ylvasil has portals to other worlds. Perhaps if they escaped—”

“Those rifts are there because of the apocalypse. No, Humans didn’t escape through any of them. Some of them got away though, but only because they flew into space.”

“Space?” Devi asked, her eyes wide. “How?”

“Does it really matter? Some Humans left the planet, the rest of them died. We don’t know what happened to those who left. They probably died too. Mortals do that often.”

“You—you don’t know?”

“We’re not omniscient,” the shades said, shrugging. “If our host isn’t there to witness the event, how would we know?”

“But this means that Humans might still be out there. They might be able to fix us.”

“They might. Unlikely, but they might. Do you want to cling to that hope?”

Devi winced. Hope was all that the Sylven race ever had. They hoped to stop their decline. They hoped to bring back the glorious Ivory Age and prosper again. Vain hopes that never bore any fruit.

Shade-Randel had spoken so harshly, so bluntly. His voice didn’t sound as if he was deliberately trying to hurt Devi, but the things that left his mouth were downright horrifying. Ironically, she felt much worse now than from the shades’ earlier attempt to break her spirit. That attempt had been about her past, but this was about her present and future. This one frightened her.

“Why didn’t they help us?” Devi asked. “Instead of kidnapping us, these Pheilett aliens could have cured us with their magic, right? They robbed us of our people, robbed us of our time! They pushed my people into certain doom.”

“If you want to blame the Pheilett I’m all for it,” shade-Randel said, “but they look at this whole mess in a different way. You asked for the big picture, didn’t you? Then you should learn how they regard you. Do you know what a zoo is?”

Devi shook her head.

“Wildlife reserves,” shade-Randel said. “Your people weren’t concerned about such things, but in many cultures people preserve near-extinct animals in artificial, controlled environments.”

“Are you saying that this place is a … zoo?”

“Among other things. It’s probably not the only place in the universe where the Pheilett are showcasing you. There might be planets out there where they loosed some Sylven into the wild, their gender imbalance fixed, their health monitored, their lifespan extended. The Pheilett populace treats you like exotic animals. That’s the big picture you wanted to know about. That’s what you are: a curiosity from the past.”

Devi chewed on that thought for a moment, unease rising within her chest. Why? She couldn’t comprehend why these Pheilett had done it. It felt wrong, though. Even if there was another planet full of Sylven, it felt wrong.

“We’re not animals,” Devi said. “We are intelligent beings. We can decide for ourselves—”

“Oh, please. Devi, your people kept all sorts of slaves and abused them endlessly. They were intelligent beings too, weren’t they?”

“That’s—that was different. They barely had any intelligence.”

“And from a Pheilett’s point of view, you barely have any intelligence.”

Devi gaped. No, the shades had to be mistaken. These Pheilett aliens couldn’t have been that much above her … could they? If they were, then perhaps they really were gods in their own right. Cruel and heartless Creators. Much like her own Creator, she had to admit.

“They can’t do this to us,” Devi whispered, knowing well that she was argument-empty.

“As far as the Pheilett are concerned, Humans and Sylven are already extinct. They can do whatever they want with the remaining specimen that they rescued. If they wanted to send some of these endangered species to an artificial planet, they could do it. If they wanted to give them magic powers and watch them fight each other, they could do it. As far as they are concerned, you should be grateful that your species can continue to exist.”

“I—I see,” Devi said, hanging her head. Why did she feel this way? It didn’t make sense. She had never cared about her people as a whole. When she was brought to this world, she had been glad to be rid of them. She felt happy here. This world had so many more wonders than Ylvasil, and she had so much more freedom to do whatever she pleased! The Pheilett had done her a big favor when they took her.

“I suppose this is what we deserve,” Devi said, looking down at her hands. They shook a little. “I can’t deny that we Sylven did a lot of morally questionable things, and—well, I am not so innocent either. I truly cannot complain about my fate.”

“This is not what you deserve.”

Devi flinched as Randel suddenly stood in front of her. He reached out and put a finger under her chin, tilting her head upward until her gaze met his green eyes. They glowed with an unnatural inner light. They glowed with determination and confidence. They glowed with the wonderful green shades of a forest. They bore into her, steady and relentless.

“This isn’t who you are, Devi,” Randel said. No, it wasn’t him. It was shade-Randel … or perhaps all three of them equally together.

“W-Who?”

“Someone who just gives up and accepts her place. If the Pheilett were truly so much more intelligent than us, then they would have no reason to do this to us in the first place. You said you have free will. Was that a lie?”

Devi blinked. Were the shades trying to console her?

“This isn’t about will,” she said. Randel’s glowing green eyes narrowed.

“Oh yes, it is. It is very much about will. The two of us are different from the masses, Devi. We do not bow our heads and accept our fate. We fight against what others think of us. We defy them. We define what we deserve.”

Devi stared at Randel, her eyes wide in wonder. She had never seen him this passionate.

Shade-Randel had talked about the Pheilett and the big picture. It had shaken Devi—but it must have shaken Randel even more. He had been stubbornly refusing to play the Inspector’s game since the very first day; learning that they were kept on this planet like animals on display must have affected him deeply.

But it wasn’t only Randel who was talking to her right now. The shades were in there too, and they must have felt much the same way. They did not accept their fate. For the very first time since Devi knew them, the shades and Randel were in complete harmony. Their glowing green eyes bore into Devi, and she trembled. Randel looked radiant.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Devi said, her heart pounding. Tonight had been a jumble-torrent of emotions, and it was getting too much to process. But when Randel let go of her chin and stepped back, she did not lower her head again.

“So,” shade-Randel said, settling back in his throne. “What’s your next question?”

Devi swallowed. “I think—well, I need some time to think.”

“Sure. Take your time. In the meanwhile—”

He froze, and for a moment Devi thought it was deliberate until she saw the alarm on his face. He then disappeared as if he had just teleported away. The room darkened and Devi fell to the floor as the stool disappeared from under her. She felt someone shaking her body and her mind clouded over.

Shouts. Her head throbbed with a headache as she woke up, her eyes opening wide in the dim light. Randel was already out of bed, reattaching his prosthetic leg. She spotted a pair of dark silhouettes in the entrance of her bedroom, and her hands snatched Silverfang from the night-table almost by reflex. Only after throwing off her blanket did she realize who the intruders were; Tora, swaying on his feet, supported by another Thardos. Their fur looked matted, dirty, stained by something dark. Blood.

“What time is it?” Randel asked, his voice calm and clear even as he hurried to strap everything in place.

“Already past dawn,” Tora said, which surprised Devi. She and Randel had overslept.

“What happened?” Devi asked, jumping out of bed to get dressed. Tora had likely told Randel already, so she had to catch up. How had he woken up so quickly?

“W-We were getting ready for the next meeting,” Tora said, leaning against his companion heavily. “On the way to the council chamber. Imaya, Erika, Val, and me. Then … that Player attacked us in the portal room. Big Human man. Dark hair, dark weapon. It could shift its shape like … Randel’s.”

Devi froze for a moment, then redoubled her efforts at donning her leather armor.

“Did you all get away?”

Tora shook his head, a motion that almost caused him to topple over.

“He attacked Erika and threw her against the wall. I don’t know if she is alive. Val tried to stop him, but he … tore Val’s head off. And Val— He— He’s dead.”

“Imaya?” Devi asked.

“He took her,” Randel said. “Hostage. If I don’t go and fight him, he’s going to kill her too. It’s my fault. I didn’t take him seriously. I could have prevented this from happening.”

Having put his magical vambraces on, he was already ready to go. He walked over to the two Thardos, inspecting Tora’s injury. Devi couldn’t see where Tora was bleeding from, but it seemed bad.

“Get a healer,” Randel said. “Preferably a Bolob. I’ll pay their fees.”

“I don’t—”

“That was an order, Tora. Stabilize your wound. I also need you to send a healer for Erika, in case she is still alive. The quicker, the better.”

“Y-Yes,” Tora said. “Are you going to … fight him?”

Randel straightened up from Tora and looked outside.

“Oh, we’ll fight him alright. We’ll give him much more than he asked for. We’ll hunt him down. We’ll make him pay.”

“…we?”

“Of course,” shade-Randel said. Nosy joined him at the same time as Devi. “Ryder wanted to fight—so be it. He will soon wish that he asked for a fair fight instead.”