Sybil hadn’t expected much in the way of visitors or be able to have enough to entertain herself for long hours. Though she knew she should’ve taken her time with Omiro Alcea’s journal, she instantly devoured it from cover to cover. For the past year, she had been chasing wisps of history. This was her first opportunity to take a hold of what realities her family faced.

It began with the plans to murder the Fogbloom family. The first pages were flooded with runic drafts and calculations. Omiro wanted to estimate how much blood iron he could harvest from several adults and children, and if it would be pure enough to utilize time magic.

Then it quickly shifted from scientific ramblings of villainy to the journal of a madman. One that primarily focused on his own family. Omiro’s daughter, Kalista, was Prince Ilta’s playmate. During the chaos of the palace attack, Kalista had put on Ilta’s clothes and hoped to create an opening to escape.

Though Omiro couldn’t theorize what happened after that, what he did know was that his daughter stopped being human on that day. Her body had shifted into a naga. Kalista maintained her mist powers, and she gained venomous fangs and her legs had merged into a long tail.

They used gas to subdue her, then transferred her to the White Palace. After a nearly successful escape attempt, they had to collar her in order to completely seal her magic. Her attempts had been centered around getting revenge against her father. Kalista blamed her father for the death of Ilta and her family. She blamed him for chasing Aeneas out of the city. This burning hatred made Omiro frustrated, as he could not observe the changes in his daughter’s body more closely.

His lead necromancer, a woman named Feniyu, suggested the use of blood iron therapy. It was an old treatment used to control hysterical women. They would take the blood iron from a priestess of Eatha and create a control device that would be able to calm her hysteria.

Sybil recognized that “treatment.” It was the same process that had been used on her. Slave conversion. Unsurprisingly, Kalista had the exact same reaction she did. Her conscience began to be driven out by the priestess’s will.

Whether it was because she was a child or she couldn’t take the stress anymore, Kalista chose to give up. Rather than cure her hysteria, a vengeful priestess, rightfully angered about being used as a sacrifice, was now in control of a powerful body.

This was no longer his daughter, but a monster of his own creation. Omiro had no choice but to use euthanasia. He then became obsessed with the idea of perfection. That humans, like animals, had the ability to become tainted beasts.

Omiro delved deeply into research. He started with overdosing animals with miasma, before quickly shifting his experimentations to prisoners. When he discovered that only animals in the womb became tainted beasts, he began to expose pregnant women to miasma. His experiments led to people born with somewhat unusual traits, strange skin conditions or hair colorations, but nothing as drastic as what Kalista had become.

He began to believe that the Alcea family had been directly blessed by the gods. They were humans who, like the siblings the church currently worshiped, could one day ascend into immortal beings who would rule over Lustro. Omiro, a man who was already focused on rebirthing Lustro into a country of his design, couldn’t afford to pass up on this opportunity.

His experiments shifted from strangers to members of his family. He blamed their disappearances on an assassin he nicknamed Bellia. An imaginary man who was focused on murdering members of the flowered families. This villain would serve him well until his eventual death by the hands of his son.

Sybil closed the journal and tossed it on the nightstand. She curled up her knees against her chest and stared at the wall ahead of her. There were similarities between herself and Kalista. Though mainly done by coincidence, there were far too many similarities for her to ignore.

“... Am I human?”

The question buzzed around her head like a desperate mosquito. She had seen the sketches of Kallista’s monstrous form as well as her autopsy pictures. Her legs had fused together into a long snake's tail, and her arms were elongated at the elbows with long claws fused to her fingertips. She had fangs that protruded past her lips, but her torso and head were human.

There was no mistaking that Kallista had become a would-be. Badger-head, the beast that Sybil defeated in Carapace, also had hints of humanity along its form. Especially its massive hands. Would-be were creatures that someone would describe as having human-like traits, not as humans.

She found herself staring at her hands. Sybil had normal everything. Her hair, skin, limbs, all were standard human bits and bobbles. Why was she second-guessing herself? Was it because of her resurrection last winter? It nearly failed because of Barcus’ physical condition. He was a man with a missing arm and a crippled leg.

Resurrection requires equivalent exchange. Rosethorn described bringing her back as an act of desperation. It had nothing to do with the fact that Barcus was human and that Sybil was… A little different.

Sybil shook her head. She wasn’t different. Everything about her was average. Anything else was just foolish mistakes made by others or coincidences. Anyone who says differently is just being foolish.

The door to the elevator beeped. Sybil straightened up. It had only been a few hours since Veximarl left and her meals came through a dumbwaiter. She backed herself against the wall and wrapped her blankets around her shoulders. Either Duxton was here to yell at her or Patterfall wished to show disappointment. Neither was desirable for her.

Her stomach churned when Laurent was the one who stepped in. He wasn’t one for late visits, but holidays were especially busy for him. Laurent set down a cloth-wrapped parcel on Sybil’s desk, next to the basket that Patterfall had left her. It was a Fogbloom tradition to have mincemeat pies on Eatha’s Feastday and he didn’t want Sybil to miss out on that simply because she was jailed for attempted murder.

Laurent then took the chair from her desk and placed it next to her bed. He sat down in the chair and silently studied her for a bit. Sybil glanced at the clock and then back to him. It was nearly midnight. What was he doing here? She fully planned on killing him later, but she was the hunter. Prey wasn’t supposed to just… Show up unannounced.

“You’ve removed your collar,” Laurent stated.

Sybil tightened the blankets around herself.

Laurent shook his head with disappointment. He had specifically asked that they switch her collar over to a lock and key one the moment she was at the White Palace, but the guards always insisted that they knew better. Runic locks were supposedly much more secure than the key ones.

“It will take a few days to finish the security arrangements for your room in the Black Palace. We’ll transfer you to the main palace once they are done.” Laurent retrieved Sybil’s journal from his breast pocket and placed it on the nightstand. It was the one she had been working on before she met Patterfall, confiscated by the guards during a search of her dorm room. “I took some liberties and made some corrections.”

Sybil’s hand dashed out from underneath the blankets as she snatched up the book. Laurent thought that she looked like a scared kitten that he was trying to coax out with a bit of food. She kept the blanket hooded over her head as she quickly scanned through his notes. Mostly grammatical corrections on her equations.

Her hand peeked out again. Her palm faced Laurent as she summoned her shield. Sybil had figured out how to augment the emblem on it, forcing it to display a rune.

Laurent stared at it for a moment. Sybil wasn’t saying anything, which meant that this must be her way of communicating. “Child of dying dust,” he said. “... A rune which represents the Alcea family.”

“A golem bearing this rune was sent to Carapace four years ago,” replied Sybil. “I want the blueprints that were used to build it.”

“My runic studies began as a way to strengthen my own abilities. Golem engineering is not a specialty of mine.” Laurent’s response was neither filled with surprise or curiosity over Sybil’s request.

For the first time in Sybil’s life, she felt a little short-changed. Aconite magic could be used to make tools and utilize runic magic. It was like being able to summon one’s own light golem, like Vincent’s, but without the need of a bracer. And that was just one of a hundred uses that Sybil could think of off the top of her head. She was actually jealous.

“... I want the blueprints,” grumbled Sybil. She then completely buried herself underneath the blankets.

Laurent watched as the mound of blankets scooted towards the corner of the bed and settled itself in. Like any feral creature, she needed her time to adjust. He stood from his seat and left the room. Late the next day, he reappeared. He had another cloth parcel with him as well as a long wooden tube.

The parcel he had brought before had been opened. Sybil had eaten one of the mini pies and all of the cookies. Maybe she was less like a stray cat and more like a finicky mouse. Laurent took his time to make some space on the desk. He opened the wooden tube and eased out a roll of papers.

“I brought you the requested documents,” he said. “As well as some more food.”

Sybil had buried herself underneath her blankets again. This was her default defensive shield against the bad man. She peeked out from underneath the sheets before cautiously shifting herself off the bed. The blankets stayed wrapped around her as she made her way to her desk.

She unfurled the papers and began to look them over. The design was similar to a prototype that her father had made for the core defense golems. They chose to make this one’s appearance similar to knight’s armor, so that it would be more “visually appealing” to Fogbloom citizens.

The programming plates were standard, except it had a line of code that was always sensing out members of the Alcea family. A secondary line of coding would then activate, placing the target in the chest cavity. Sybil shifted the papers around. Inside the compartment was a separate set of runes. They were similar to the magic dampening collar she had pried to pieces earlier today.

They had built this golem and sent it to her father so that it would capture Lydia. Duxton was right. Lydia was brought to Fogbloom. “I want any research relating to Lydia Larkin. Experimental journals, timetables, everything.”

“I do not have access to them,” replied Laurent.

Sybil glared at him. He said that the blueprints would be difficult to get yesterday, but they popped up easily enough today. She quietly rolled up the blueprints, stuffed them back in the tube, and went to the bed. Being a bundle of blankets was where it was at.

“I wasn’t involved in that project,” added Laurent.

Sybil let out an annoyed grunt.

Laurent dragged over the desk chair to the bed, exactly as he did the day before. “I would like to help you in any way I can.”

“Go die in a ditch.”

Laurent stared at the blanket lump for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Lady Larkin was an opponent of mine during the Southern War. Had she not shown me mercy, I would be a dead man.”

The lump didn’t move. Laurent assumed that meant that she was listening.

“Though we were opponents, we maintained a truce after the war. I occasionally met up with her whenever she was in Fogbloom or if my work took me past Carapace, but we never spoke of the war. The two of us were neither friends nor associates, but we preferred to keep tabs on the other.”

Sybil’s muffled voice grumbled out from her pile. “You didn’t have to kill her.”

Laurent folded his hands on his lap. “The Order of Alcea is a system of checks and balances. If our gods have failed us, it is our responsibility to replace them. I neither ordered for the capture of Lady Larkin, nor did I warn her about the suffering she would face. It is in my opinion that she would have made for a lovely god.”

A stinging sensation began to swell in Sybil’s chest. She felt angry. “Who gave you the power to say if a god has failed us?” She asked Father Laurent, head of the church.

“The gods are the foundation of morality among the magic users. They have been absent from this world for two centuries. Those who use their magic have increasingly become lost and corrupt. It is better to strip them of their powers and allow a new god to come forward. The reason why I have approached you is that I would like to train you for that role.”

That stinging sensation was twisting into an unbridled rage. “I regret to inform you that I am human.” Her hand slipped out from the edge of the blanket. She made a shooing motion before sucking her hand back under. “You may go.”

“Veximarl has probed into your past. He has confirmed that you have already undergone a transformation.” Laurent raised an eyebrow as Sybil tossed the blankets off of her.

“I’m human!” Sybil put her hand to her chest. “I’m not a would-be or whatever you would claim for me to be! You can cut me up and torture me all you like, but that isn’t going to change what I am!”

Laurent patiently waited for her to finish yelling. “Do you recall a moment in your life when you were deathly ill? Did you find that some part of you had drastically changed afterward?”

Sybil looked away from him, gritting her teeth as she did so. Tria had warned her that her magic had been sealed away. That must’ve been some fancy god talk for turning her into a would-be. She was running around with a body of mist merely hours after the god of death had saved her.

“... I’m human,” she repeated in a pained whisper.

Laurent picked up Omiro’s journal from the nightstand and began to flip through it. “Complete possession,” he said quietly. “The priestess within Kallista Alcea’s body was able to eventually take control of her body.”

“So you’re just sitting around waiting for that to happen to me?” Sybil put her hand to her chest again. This time, she felt offended.

“Miss Kallista had no physical changes when she became possessed. You, however, clearly showed traits belonging to Priestess Emily. Would-be can assume many forms and talents. I believe that you gained the ability to take on the form with others. With enough practice, it may be possible to shift your body into a completely different person.” Laurent set the journal back down.

Sybil stared at him as though he were insane.

Laurent folded his arms and leaned back into the chair. “I have come to bargain. You and I, as equals.”

“I would like for you to leave and take all that crazy with you,” replied Sybil.

“The Order has no loyalty to its own members, only its cause. Our leadership has clearly wronged you by killing your mentor. If-”

“My mother,” interrupted Sybil. Her jaw tensed as her face twisted in pain. “You bastards murdered my mother.”

Laurent gave a slight tilt of his head. Certainly, they had some similar mannerisms… Especially that glare of hers. Nearly identical. However, Sybil looked like a full-blooded member of the eastern half of Crimson Region. Children of mixed heritage shouldn’t side so much with one side of their parentage.

“Helping you achieve your vengeance is beneficial to our cause.” Laurent briefly smiled before his expression turned serious. “My superiors made ill choices. They must be punished accordingly. I would prefer our new god to have a peaceful heart rather than a spiteful one.”

She didn’t trust him. There was something else he wanted. He presented a pleasant deal but he definitely had a different motive.... Like seeing Emily again. Sybil slowly nodded her head. He likely only wanted to give her training because he wanted Emily to take control.

So how could Sybil turn the tables on him? Agreeing to his deal meant that she would have a room at the royal palace. It may still be a prison, but she’d have access to Veximarl. Laurent had said that Veximarl was the one who confirmed she wasn’t human. She needed to have a serious talk with him now.

Sybil scooted towards the wall and leaned her back against it. She studied everything she could about Laurent. From his expression to the way he was sitting… Completely unreadable. That’s likely how he got by in life so far. He had said he wasn’t in charge of the Order, but Patterfall seemed convinced that he was. A scapegoat or a liar?

Either he was telling the truth, and there’s someone in the shadows that he’s going to betray, or he’s a master of faking sweet words. So, which one was it? He seemed cunning. Should she try to test him to see how far he’ll go to gain her trust? Or will that logic end up biting her biting her?

“... I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

Laurent stood up and adjusted his robes. “I will make the arrangements to transfer you over then.”

Standard Aconite behavior. She’d say one thing, they go ahead and do whatever it was they wanted. Sybil grabbed her blankets and buried herself underneath them again. What she should’ve done was ignore him as well.

Sybil waited until he left before she started to back away whatever belongings she wanted to bring with her. Mostly journals. She didn’t want to look at the mess that Laurent left her in her own notes, not yet at least. All she’d end up doing is pissing herself off if she bothered to look at those.

It was Satyrday afternoon when Laurent reappeared. He held one of those magic dampening collars in one hand and a ring of keys in the other. “A safety precaution,” he replied to the glare that Sybil was giving him. “Are you willing to comply?”

“I suppose,” grumbled Sybil.

She picked up her basket and lifted her chin. Laurent fastened the collar about her neck and locked it into place. He gestured to the elevator and only got in after Sybil had. Sybil was still wearing her prison uniform, which was a white smock dress and loose linen pants. It was somewhat surprising that no one offered her a change of clothes before she left.

Laurent was silent as they got on the carriage together. Sybil was used to being berated by either Duxton or Shaw the moment they started traveling. How she should behave, what she should expect to happen, things like that. The silence was welcome but, at the same time, incredibly uncomfortable.

“Uhm…” Sybil twiddled her thumbs together. “... What am I supposed to do when I get there?”

“Your lady in waiting will handle your schedule.” Laurent didn’t look her way as he spoke. He brushed aside the window curtain for a moment before closing it again.

“My what?”

“A lady in waiting is a woman who will act as your companion. She will manage your schedule and perform any requests you have for her.” Laurent’s eyes flicked her way. He watched her for a moment before looking away again.

So it was her own personal Shaw? Shaw was just a lady in waiting? Sybil frowned to herself. She did like having time to herself, and Shaw often stressed that his role was to be Duxton’s shadow. Having a shadow wasn’t advantageous to her. Especially if she chose to run away or assassinate someone.

The carriage crossed the bridge leading to the palace and Laurent got off first. He offered Sybil a hand to help her get down, but she ignored it. Sybil grabbed her basket and followed him into the palace. Laurent paused for a moment before turning around.

“I have other duties to attend to.” He gestured to a set of maids who had approached. “They will show you to your room.”

Sybil gave a small nod of her head. “... Alright,” she muttered.

“I will make time in my schedule to see you tomorrow,” replied Laurent. He bowed respectfully and turned away.

Sybil stuck her tongue out at him before she turned around to follow the maids. They walked up a maze of stairs, heading to somewhere high up in the palace. The pair of maids then stopped by a heavy wooden door.

One of them pulled out a key and the door let out a series of heavy thunks as it opened. Sybil immediately noticed the metal plaques that had been installed along the doorframe. Withdrawal. Void. Breath. They were covered in the same runes that Laurent had used to make a barrier around himself. A vacuum seal around the door so that Sybil wouldn’t be able to mist her way through the gaps.

The bells alongside the door were likely warnings to the nearby guards that she was using her magic. Sybil noted that the plates around the door showed little signs of wear or tarnish. This wasn’t the room that they had kept Lydia in. Judging from how new the door looked, this was a space prepared only for her.

“We’ll send your lady in waiting in with your afternoon tea.” Both maids curtsied before leaving the room.

The door let out a heavy “ka-chunk” as it was locked up again. Sybil looked around. This was… Great. Super great. Now she was in some boring fancy room instead of a jail cell where she could eavesdrop on the guards. She figured out how to talk into the guard room at the White Palace using her radio and a handful of them had become convinced that the room was haunted. How was she supposed to find that sort of entertainment here?

There was a knock on the door. “Enter!” Sybil called out.

Another “ka-chunk” and the door unlocked. It must have a heavy lock setup so the door couldn’t be easily busted through. Did they expect her to manufacture a battering ram while she was in here? The door opened and a veiled woman entered, pushing a little tea cart with her. She took the time to lock the door behind her before wheeling the cart over to the table.

“I thought you would’ve gotten changed by now,” she said as she set the teacup on the table. “There’s plenty of dresses available. Should I help you pick one out?”

Sybil instantly recognized that voice. Something was off though... She couldn’t quite place her finger on it, but she felt like she should be wary. “... Tish?”

The veil hid the top half of her face, but her lips were grinning widely. “Yes?” She then laughed to herself. “It must be such a surprise to see me! We haven’t seen each other in forever! Oh, and don’t you worry, we’ll get Vex here for dinner. I’m not going to hog you all to myself.

Go ahead and sit down,” added Tish as she gestured to the table. “Have a cup of tea. We’ll pick out something nice for you to wear afterward and then gossip about what’s been happening in the palace.” Her lips somehow spread into a wider grin, revealing her pearly white teeth in the process. “Rest assured, Sybil, the two of us have so much to do together.”