Brynn’s fingers clenched around a wooden cup carved with ornate symbols that shone light blue, the Issi insulating her hands from the scalding hot tea inside. The light pink liquid sloshed around in the bottom half of the cup as her hands shook from the barely contained rage she felt, but she couldn’t show it. Not when Hugil and Arvay were looking to her for leadership. It wasn’t her fault Brystan had failed miserably in his ambush. And that he’d lost one of his lackeys while doing so. What was she supposed to do, order Arvay and Hugil to jump out of hiding and aid the others in their endeavor? No. Brystan would have claimed all the glory. One death was a small price to pay for failure. Well, two if she counted his hired help, which she didn’t, so one death was a small price to pay for failure.

“I still can’t believe that guy took out that hired thug in one hit.” Arvay muttered from the other side of the table, her fingernail tracing the wood grain as she spoke. “He had to be, what, at least a journeyman? Maybe even a lower master?”

“He threw Sechen around like a sack of potatoes. And I know she isn’t that strong, but the difference in power there was crazy.” Hugil added, lifting his spoon from his soup to point at Arvay. “It almost looked like he was trying to kill her.”

Brynn sighed and rested her head on one hand. Poor foolish Hugil. It looked as if he was going to kill Sechen because he was going to kill Sechen. Brystan and his lackeys were meant to kill Metea/Irric there as well, but they somehow failed even in a three on one. A shame, and now Brystan had withdrawn from his position due to the shock of losing a lackey, news she had received just moments ago. Pathetic. Crying over broken tools. Glasrime would have gifted Brystan a new lackey within the week, and refusing the gift had made her look bad by association. Glasrime hadn’t expressly said it, but she saw it in their eyes. Their perfect eyes.

“I still can’t believe Metea/Irric killed Dani.” Arvay whispered sadly.

Dani? Was that the name of Brystan’s lackey? Brynn sighed internally as she prepared her words in her mind. Being the leader could be tiring work at times. “Yes, whatever has gotten into Metea/Irric is dangerous. She needs to be brought to justice by whatever means necessary.”

“But she’s our friend.” Hugil said softly.

Brynn rolled her eyes and sighed audibly. “A friend who murdered one of our fellow practitioners. And who could murder us whenever we meet again.”

Hugil grumbled something like acceptance and went back to his soup. Brynn smiled smugly in victory, savoring a sip of her flowery tea as she enjoyed his silence. Metea/Irric and Sechen were traitors. The other three were just accessories. She needed her lackeys to feel the same hatred towards those two that she felt if this was going to succeed. Brystan’s group had tried to reason with Metea/Irric. To… bring her back. A foolish endeavor. And they were a stone’s throw from succeeding at being fooled by a false surrender. She’d saved them from a fate far worse than a single lackey dying with her technique, aimed squarely at Metea/Irric’s back. It wasn’t her fault it didn’t kill Metea/Irric. It wasn’t her fault the help failed to kill Sechen.

Brynn tapped her cup to the table and flared her Issi as she felt one of the guards growing antsy. Her glass apparition trailed along the floor in spikes, launching itself at the man’s neck and pinning him to the wall. She specifically made it so the spines went to either side of his neck, so he wouldn’t die, since she didn’t need anyone revolting at the moment. She shot the group that was corralled into the kitchen an annoyed glance, then went back to her tea. The connection point glowed gold, unused and waiting, and it would wait a little while longer. Her hired help had yet to arrive, and she was no longer underestimating the man who called himself Prisoner.

They wouldn’t leave this city free.

“Hello? Are you still alive?”

Elach groaned as he pushed himself out of the dirt, his arms straining under the weight of his torso as dried earth rained down from his shirt and face. Everything was sore, but not hurt. Like he’d done a full body workout the day before and was now waking up from a dreamless sleep. His tongue ran over his teeth and lips like a piece of leather, scraping along uncomfortably and letting him know he wasn’t in the clear. With a grunt he swung his legs under him, looking around for whatever had just spoken to him. He probably should have been a little more cautious, but if it wanted to hurt him, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself anyway. A quarter full container wouldn’t amount to much.

“You can sit up! That’s great!” The voice said excitedly. “That means your spine isn’t broken!”

“My legs could be paralyzed.” Elach said, his voice coming out crystal clear even through a parched throat and mouth.

“Are they?”

He wiggled his toes, then pulled himself into sitting cross-legged. “No.”

“Then you can stand, too! Perfect!” Quick, happy claps came from nowhere. “Can you still use your Issi? Those chains look like they’ll come in handy.”

Elach touched on his container without closing his eyes, feeling his Issi ready itself for his commands. “You were spying on me. In my own head. Who or what are you?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was your subconscious?” The voice asked, and Elach shook his head. “Your sense of right and wrong? The person you want to be? A… um… I don’t know. I don’t know what I am.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes! Yes, I do! My name is Y’talla.” Elach felt his headspace warp as Y’talla spoke. Giving form to the name and voice. “I think I was really important once, but I don’t remember anymore. I don’t remember anything, really.”

“How did you get here?”

The mote of colour that was Y’talla grew larger by the second, now close to the size of a toddler but without any defining features. “Next to you?” They asked, their words now coming from that form rather than from nowhere in particular.

“Well, yeah. But I meant, like, in my head. Hells, how did any of this stuff get in here? I don’t remember anything like this, and I’m pretty sure Prisoner’s coin couldn’t have made all of this.” Elach gestured at the vast expanse of floating debris all around him. “Did someone get into my head while I was… am… while I’m dead?”

Y’talla shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t think headspaces work that way. It took a lot for that Hugil guy to almost get into yours, and that was without existential bleed helping you. If someone had broken in, it would have been impossible to ignore all the destruction they caused.”

“That’s a lot for someone who doesn’t know.” Elach pointed out.

“It is, isn’t it.” Y’talla frowned with newly formed eyes. “It came from somewhere, but I can’t feel that place any more. Oh well! What are we going to do now?”

“Wait to die, I guess.” Elach said sarcastically. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing here. Flow’s still out there somewhere, but no matter what I do I don’t get any closer to them.”

“You’re separated from your wisp? How is that possible?” Y’talla stepped up to Elach, now the size of the average teenager, most of their features visible on their face. Wide forest green eyes, a large nose, thin lips with slightly crooked teeth, and thick, bushy eyebrows. Their skin was coloured a luminescent cream, like light shining through old paper, and their hair was as green as their eyes. “Oh, you mean their manifestation! That makes way more sense. Well, bad news, I can’t feel anyone alive here except you and me.”

Elach raised an eyebrow. “But I can feel Flow out there.”

“Yes, out there. We’re still in your headspace, silly.” Y’talla stood on tiptoes and tried to flick Elach on the forehead. He caught their arm in an iron grip, their skin just a little too hot to be a regular person’s. “Flow got blown out of here by whatever happened, and you got stuck in here. With me!”

“Great.” Elach grumbled as Y’talla squirmed in his grasp. He could feel them solidifying as he held their arm. “So what am I supposed to do now?”

“I dunno.” Y’talla shrugged, which was awkward with one arm still held above their head. “You could let go of me? Please?”

“No touching.”

“None at all?” Y’talla asked disappointedly.

“None.”

“What if you’re about to fall, and, and, I have to reach down and grab you by the arm like all those people in those books? Could I touch you then?”

Elach shot Y’talla a blank look. “Why does it sound like you’re going to push me off a piece of debris?”

“I wouldn’t do that! Just… hope for it.” Y’talla smiled, and Elach shook his head. Getting a read on them was like trying to read a book that was rolling down a hill with binoculars. He saw glimpses of individual words, but not the context behind them. “So? Will you let go of me?”

“Promise you won’t put me in danger.”

“I promise!”

“...Yeah, I don’t trust you at all. Don’t touch me.” Elach let go of Y’talla’s wrist, and they instantly went in for a hug. “Eternals, you don’t listen at all.”

“Nope!” Y’talla said happily, looking up at Elach from just under his chin. “You’re pretty tall, you know that?”

“I had no idea.” Elach muttered sarcastically, pushing Y’talla’s head away from his chest as he tried to unwrap their arms from around him. They weren’t budging. He felt a point behind him grow saturated with his Issi, intangible chains reaching out to connect to his wrists. They grew taught as he pulled, ripping himself out of Y’talla’s grip and away to the other side of the small dirt chunk they found themselves on.

“No fair!” Y’talla pouted. “Using Issi isn’t fair!”

“I don’t know what the hells I’m doing here. If you aren’t going to help, then please stay out of my way.” Elach said, clutching his hand around the thin chains as they dissolved back into Issi.

“I can help! I can…” Y’talla paused. “I can… I can refill your Issi! You need more of that to put this place back together, right? Well, I’m one hundred percent Issi! And I regenerate really quickly!”