Are You Even Human

Sneaking out of the military staging grounds is a lot more difficult than sneaking in was. Agnus Dei has had time to spread whatever version of events she chooses, forever branding me as a shapeshifting mind-controlling Angel or something probably. I stick around a little bit to see if any of the backlash starts hitting my friends, but this whole staging grounds is mainly run by the Air Force rather than the Army. If they even have the interdepartmental communication to sniff out my friends and family, they don't seem to be taking advantage of it.

What they do take advantage of is a large number of superheroes to patrol the perimeter of the camp. Infiltration might come naturally to me, but my domain remains a dead giveaway that someone with superpowers is nearby. I could turn into a bird and fly over them, but I want to keep as low-profile as possible and ultimately end up sneaking through a small gap in domain coverage as a rodent, safely making my way back into the Queen's territory with (hopefully) no one the wiser.

I won't say Maria and the Queen of Legion like the plan for all mobile units to retreat to a Queen of Reciprocation's domain in an emergency, but the Queen, at least, agrees it is sound. Reciprocation and Legion apparently have no particular love or dislike of one another, so fair dealings can be expected, especially if everyone shows up with gifts. The Angels of Omnipresence as Worship's council also know to convince the Council of Reciprocation to not attempt to turn Anastasia into an Angel, so hopefully there won't be any issues there. It's not a great plan. No one is really happy about it. But it's a plan, and that's better than nothing.

Now, all I have to do is follow the pull.

There are hundreds of miles separating me from the east coast, but that's nothing a migratory bird can't handle in a day. Taking to the skies, I fly in a wide circle around any military units I see and then start my cruise, settling in to travel for pretty much the entire rest of the day. It's boring and stressful, but a comfortable mix of Raptor and bird brains makes it easy enough, letting me settle into my task until night falls and I decide to land somewhere to sleep. I don't have any money, of course, and it would probably be too big a risk to be seen regardless, so I just land on top of a roof, turn into a cat, and curl up to sleep until dawn. Cats, I find, are remarkably good at getting comfortable on the most uncomfortable surfaces imaginable. It makes sleeping pretty easy.

Of course, it also makes waking up a little harder. The sun is a good ways into the sky when I finally rouse myself, stretching my body and letting my fur fluff up to let out some of the heat stolen from the sun and trapped within my coat. Chiding myself while I yawn and shake feeling back into my limbs, I leap up into the air and turn back into a bird, resuming my flight.

I'm settling into more of a rhythm as I fly, guiding my wings in search of buoyant updrafts and favorable tailwinds as I make my way ever-closer to the place tugging inexorably on my domain. It's even more obvious than usual from up here how… empty human civilization is now. All these structures, all these roads, all this space that used to be full to the brim with us, now so profoundly empty. Where in movies you'd see hundreds of cars clogging the highway all at once, you now see a few dozen on the biggest roads and barely one at a time everywhere else.

We as a species have been made into a fraction of what we once were, and while that's normal to me there are a lot of people alive today who remember what it was like at the start of the war, or even before the war, when this planet was ours to control as we pleased. When over eight billion of us filled every corner of land from coast to coast. I guess Agnus Dei is probably one of them. I wonder if I wouldn't care about the personhood of the enemy if I had more context on what they did to us. If I truly understood the fall of the human race. Would that loss drive me? Fuel me? Blind me? Or would I still just be the local freak, the ugly little girl who never liked humans all that much in the first place because they never seemed to like me?

I never have to worry about that with aliens. They either like me or they don't, and there's absolutely no ambiguity on the manner. They make it clear with every breath. And somehow, most of them seem to like me! They think I'm interesting. They think I'm funny. They see absolutely nothing wrong with me wearing whatever body I damn well please. I just… it almost feels inevitable. I'd betrayed humanity in my heart years ago, hadn't I?

It was always a likely possibility. I'm so thankful for being given the power and the understanding to let it happen. I'm trying not to look forward to this too much, of course. I have a job to do. A task. And of course, there's always the chance that everything goes horribly wrong. Maybe the Angels of Possibility are nothing like the other aliens I've met at all. Maybe I'll just be stuck in the same old shit, and the only real difference is that this time it'll be below sea level.

Speaking of… there it is. God damn that is a lot of water. The great lakes are huge, but this… this is something else. Though the results of human civilization remain technically intact beneath me, the houses and buildings have gone from being largely abandoned to completely abandoned this close to the coastline. This technically isn't the territory of any given Queen yet, but with no real way to defend the coastline, we have no good defense against any Raptors that might want to crawl onto dry land in search of food beyond simply putting enough distance between us that they won't wander into any people.

I could just fly over the ocean waves until I feel my Queen beneath me, diving down to avoid potentially running into the territory of other councils, but… I'm too curious. Too excited. In the back of my mind, I'm still thinking about being in that other universe, floating weightlessly among the stars. I want to feel it again. I want to swim.

Diving towards the water, I crash into the waves, taking the form of a half-alien shark as I get my bearings in the frigid liquid. I feel many things around me, though the deep blue waters are a lot… emptier than that other universe. There's no reefs or anything out here, just water, sand, and a flittering collection of marine life that seems inclined to avoid me. The tug on my domain directs me further out into the open waters, and deeper within them.

Flying is extremely cool, but swimming is relaxing and meditative in ways that are difficult to match that high up into the air. I don't need to worry about a bad downdraft causing me to tumble uncontrollably towards what my brain insists would be my doom; I can just swim, leisurely plodding my way towards my destination with casual swishes of my tail.

Of course, I'm unfortunately in somewhat of a hurry, so I have to keep up the pace. I spot a school of fish as I travel, and just to see if I can, I swim towards it with my domain expanded to engulf the entire group. They try to escape, but I manage to completely encompass the lot of them, declaring them mine and unforming their brains and bodies all at once, vanishing them into nonexistence and filling my reserves.

Ahahaha. I never have to eat anything again! This is incredible. I wonder if I can do the same thing to the water itself? Water is an important component of a living body, after all, even if seawater specifically doesn't have a particularly healthy concentration of salt. If I just swallow it all at once, would I make an enormous cavitation bubble all around me and cause a massive implosion? …Hmm, probably not. Shifting things into my storage is far from instant. I doubt I could do it quickly enough to prevent water from filling in the space normally. But in that case… could I just start drinking the whole ocean?

Perhaps simply because the thought of that is too daunting, I fail when I try. I manage to slurp up a lot of plankton, though, which is also an impressive bump in biomass. I'm tempted to eat all the plankton everywhere I go now, but that seems like it might have a slight negative impact on any ecosystems that may happen to exist out here. I don't want to be too selfish.

After a couple hours of swimming, I bump into my first domain. It feels like old photographs of long-dead people and sketches of animals just inaccurate enough to seem like creatures of fantasy without really knowing why. Silhouette. The moment after our domains touch, the water around me churns, a rumbling heralding the movement of something massive.

Ah, that's right. Leviathans can handle water a lot better than they can handle the land.

"Peaceful greetings," I project as quickly as possible, though the skyscraper-sized serpents still rush up to surround me, two of them circling each other in a double helix with my own comparatively smaller form in the middle.

"IDENTIFY. DECLARE PURPOSE," the warbling, overwhelming scent of what I assume is the local Queen demands. Okay, so the pheromone network does work exactly the same underwater. Weird.

"This unit's designation is Thief of Torn Wings. I follow the pull to seek my Queen. Requesting peaceful passage or alternate route."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. ALLOWED. WELCOME, THIEF OF TORN WINGS. INQUIRY: ON WHAT BUSINESS DID YOU DEPART YOUR COUNCIL?"

"Unanswerable; question presumes incorrect premise. At no point did I depart my council. I am seeking them for the first time."

"CONFUSION. CONTRADICTION. YOU HAVE A NAME. YOU HAVE A REVERENT FORM. HOW DID YOU GET THESE THINGS WITHOUT YOUR QUEEN?"

Hmm. Interesting tidbit to know about alien culture.

"Through will, naming one's self is possible. Through Possibility, changing one's form is trivial."

"REMARKABLE. GO AND SEEK YOUR PLACE, CHOSEN OF THE FIRST."

"Appreciation. Agreement. Identify?"

"THIS UNIT'S DESIGNATION IS SHADOWS PASS AS FAST AS LIGHT."

"Thank you, Shadows Pass As Fast As Light."

I continue on my way, entering the Queen of Silouette's domain. The two Leviathans escort me as I go, twirling around me in wide, lazy circles as I continue to dive deeper. The further down I go, the darker it gets, and the more the water pressure starts to crush me. The latter is easy enough to compensate for, with several examples of earthly and alien biology more suited to the depths at my disposal, and the former has long since stopped being a problem for me. I can echolocate, I can perceive electrical currents, and I can simply ignore my senses altogether and continue to swim in the direction I know is right.

Darker, darker, and darker still, the pressure of the ocean's weight seems to crush all light down to almost nothing. Flashes of it here and there are still visible, not from the surface, but from the occasional bioluminescent animal that happens to swim close after I exit Shadows Pass As Fast As Light's domain out the other side, losing my Leviathan escort. There's still quite the variety of organisms down this deep, easy to find with sound and smell when I've all but completely lost my sight. An eerie beauty pervades the life here, and I can't help but take a few detours snatching up new body plans and testing them out a bit, finding what I like and dislike about them before moving on. I don't know how long I spend collecting new templates, but I keep descending all the while, the light so dim it may as well not be there at all.

And then, quite unexpectedly, I continue to descend further and the light starts to get brighter.

I think I'm imagining it at first. It's hard to tell if there's any real amount of light here when it's all so dim. But the deeper I go, the closer I get to my Queen, the more the light becomes inarguable. Before I know it, I can properly see again, the glow piercing the murk of the depths and revealing the countless blind organisms, each of them none the wiser to being stripped of the obscurity of the dark. With this simple change, the depths have gone from alien and lonely to amusingly clear, and things only get more amazing as I find the source.

A vast network of massive vines twists and curls in comforting patterns below me, floating gracefully in the currents of the ocean. It is a network of branching tendrils, each glowing with brilliant light and each unique in design and composition. To some extent, it reminds me of Corruptor of All Creation, the way each tendril ends in a unique design—some frilled, some flowering, some fuzzy. But whereas the Queen of Blasphemy was built so each of its many arms would profane some god or another, this Queen—my Queen—has a body of nothing but celebration. Beauty. Joy at the existence of the world, all things in it, and all possibilities it contains.

I'm here. I am where I belong.

The feeling is so foreign to me it takes me an embarrassingly long time to identify. I can also tell it's little more than base alien-brain instinct, not any believable sort of confidence in how this will go. Yet somehow, despite myself, I find my mood dangerously approaching something akin to optimism as I carefully descend, reach out, and touch the domain I know must be in front of me with a gentle greeting.

And below me, the brilliant Queen reacts. One of her massive tendrils, fully capable of locomotion underneath the water, reaches up to inspect and greet me back. I shift instinctively, some part of me wanting my body as close as it can be to something I consider mine when making my first impression to a being this vast and powerful. So I make a body that's largely humanoid: a basic feminine shape, attractive in the ways I never used to dream of but no longer find myself hating, but modified with all the appropriate changes for the deep. Fins in place of feet, webs between slightly-too-long fingers, gills to breathe with, a tail to swim with, teeth to hunt with, and tentacles emerging from my head simply because I love to have them. Here under the water, I make them much longer than I normally do, letting them cascade down my back to reach just below my waist. As my Queen's massive limb reaches out to me, her domain engulfing me completely in the embrace of Possibility, I reach my tentacles out to meet her in return. Gently, her limb brushes against me, and I embrace it.

"Welcome, emissary of my sisters," the Queen greets me, her scent careful and quiet in ways no other Queen I've spoken to has been. "What news do you bring? What aid do you require?"

"Greetings," I answer. "But while I have news and require aid, I am no emissary of another. I am a native of this world, knowledgeable of much and ignorant of much. But I know what it means to follow the pull. I am Thief of Torn Wings, and Possibility has declared you my Queen."

"I struggle to understand, but my being is filled with a surprise most welcome," the Queen responds. "I am The Divinity of Wonder, and if our Council is to be blessed with another then this is a day of much wonder indeed. But I see you have your form, and you have your name. What council gave you them, if not ours?"

"Myself, as a council of one," I answer. "For such is the way of my people, the people of this world. We are devoid of Queens, so Possibility gave me the power to change myself in absence of them. And, in turn, the power to understand what the rest of my people cannot. So now, I am here. The first of my people to follow the pull and know what it means."

A wave of sympathy and sorrow blooms up from below me, not just the Queen's but countless other aliens that have been listening in.

"Then blessed of our most holy, we invite you to partake in the embrace and bonds of our council, that we may smother you with every joy you have lacked. Come. Descend to us. And if it pleases you, allow us to give you a proper name."

"Is there a problem with my name?" I ask, holding onto The Divinity of Wonder's massive limb as she pulls me deeper into her domain. Even without being Raptor-brained, I don't feel even the slightest hint of fear. The chance of violence, aggression, or even rejection feels so unlikely I find it actively difficult to conceive. The whole domain is abuzz with emotion: excitement, worship, sympathy, curiosity, and simple giddy joy. This is an entire miniature nation, and each member of it knows I'm here and is happy about it. It's overwhelming. It sets me on edge.

"It is such a dark name for such a bright day," The Divinity of Wonder answers. "If it is who you are, it is yours. To name one's self is a delightful possibility. But a thief of torn wings? One who hurts and tears and steals, taking power from suffering? It is a warrior's name, for one who slaughters countless in battle."

"That is what I do," I admit. "I have devoured all who oppose me."

"It is what you have done," The Divinity of Wonder says. "But is it who you are, and is it who you wish to be? Do not forget, young one. There are infinite possibilities to choose from."

I shudder, not knowing what to answer. I end up letting my body answer for me, allowing my brain's instinctive urge to convey my wordless confusion to come to pass. I can't say I'm super attached to the name 'Thief of Torn Wings.' It's yet another name that was given to me, a PR-driven epithet that fit the pattern of alien names well enough to take as my own. But the one name I consider to be truly my own is Julietta, and that has no translation in the alien language.

Technically, I suppose, 'Julietta' has a meaning. Kind of. It comes from a long line of mutations and feminizations of the Roman god Jupiter, who is Zeus, who is a complete raging asshole. I could translate the idea of Zeus into an alien name, but that fundamentally wouldn't represent the name Julietta at all. I don't think of some thunderbolt-spewing man-whore when I think of my name. The only thing my name means to me is that it's me.

That's the real question here. If I had to define myself not with a name, but with words, with a phrase, with meaning, what would I call myself? Or, perhaps, what name would others give me? What name would others give my dream? My goals? My desires? I don't know the answer to that question. It's a little uncomfortable to think about.

"There is no rush," The Divinity of Wonder assures me. "Names are usually given after forms, and it would seem any form I could give you would only be one of many."

Hmm? Oh. I suppose I've already made a few adjustments. My domain suffuses the tendril of the Queen I'm touching, analyzing her biology for later use and causing me to make several minor tweaks to my own form as I run over the information in the back of my mind.

"That's why I came here, actually," I admit. "It is not my goal to join your council. I require help to save someone I care about."

"Conviction. You are and were a member of our council from the moment you were blessed," The Divinity of Wonder says. "We simply did not know it. Whatever assistance we can give will be granted."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

God. Is it really this easy? How? More sympathy flows through the water as I think those words, my thoughts once again leaking without my permission. I quickly clamp down on that, but the concern only increases.

"Concern. Consideration. Are you well?" a new voice asks. An Angel. "Apology. We should have inquired if your journey was harrowing."

"There is clearly something wrong," another Angel opines.

I want to tell them I'm fine, but… it just doesn't seem right. There's a vast gulf of difference between lying to enemy aliens for a tactical advantage in combat and lying to kind, sympathetic aliens who don't even understand lying exists.

"Why is the assumption that I am unwell?" I ask instead.

"Additional concern. Explanation: your words are stilted and lacking in depth. Your thoughts and feelings start and stop without warning. Assumption: you are gravely injured, starving, or struggling to remain conscious."

"I am none of these things," I answer. "I simply possess the ability to not project my thoughts into the network if I so choose."

The horror, despair, and disbelief that rumbles through the ocean at my answer has me buffing up my musculature and growing enough blades for a fight. Damn it, why did I admit to that? I could have just played it off as a quirk or something. Yet despite my reaction, the overall feeling of the response doesn't feel accusatory or hostile. It is, first and foremost, a desperate question.

"Why would you choose this!?"

It's as if they're begging to be let into my every thought and feeling, the need for it almost startling me enough to comply. But I don't. These aliens seem very nice, I'll give them that. But do I actually know if they are? Of course not. If anything, all this overwhelming joy at my arrival feels like love bombing, a very common manipulation tactic. If I say or do the wrong thing, this could all change in an instant.

"I am from this world," I answer. "I was not born of a Queen. My people are nothing like yours. We have no network. We communicate with sound, and our words only emerge into the world via acts of intentional, direct will. Most of the time, we are silent."

"Horror," an Angel laments. "Sympathy. Concern."

"How do you know the love of your brothers and sisters?" another Angel asks. "Must you ask every time? Must you speak it every time? Does it not flow out of you at their every reminder, as their love flows to you?"

"We do not know their love," I admit. "We believe or we do not believe. Sometimes, we are wrong."

I've had that happen several different ways. I've believed in false loves and false hates. I've hated those who thought I loved them. I like to hope now that no one I think loves me actually hates me. 'People I believe love me' is already a small enough category without worrying about false positives. Yet ultimately, I can never know.

It's not actually that different with aliens. Sure, I can literally feel how much they care more or less at all times, but there's nothing that would prevent their current passion for my well-being from being an entirely temporary state of affairs. Aliens can't lie, but they can certainly change their minds.

Currently they're still horrified, of course. Let them be. I have no intention of budging on this.

The Queen soon finishes pulling me into the center of her domain, in the middle of the wide tangle of tendrils that make up her form. Around us, the Angels gather, myriad in their forms. Behind them, processions of Raptors float with reverence, eager to see their newest master with their own eyes.

"This unit's designation is Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures," a serpent-like Angel introduces themselves, looking somewhat like a miniature Leviathan with jagged, crystalline scales along its back and sharp blue teeth.

"This unit's designation is A Blossom of Wilted Chances," a jellyfish-like Angel greets me, with a bulbous 'head' and countless thin tentacles trailing beneath them like a nightgown that hides the enormous, deadly crystal pincers behind the innocence of the dress.

"This unit's designation is Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings," a huge lobster-like Angel acknowledges me, clawed, tailed, and many-legged, though covered in tough skin instead of chitin or scales and pockmarked with bright, multi-colored eyes across its whole body.

"Repetition: this unit's designation is The Divinity of Wonder," the Queen introduces herself again. "We welcome you as our newest councilmember, blessed child of this strange new world."

I squirm and shift a little under all the attention, giving everyone a polite nod even though none of them are able to understand that body language anyway.

"Is this all of you?" I ask. "Other councils I have known possessed several times the number of Chosen here."

"Our god loves many but blesses few," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures answers, twisting their body to swim lazily towards me. "Your presence is cause for much celebration!"

"I must inform you that I will be unable to remain beyond a predesignated time," I tell them, swimming backwards a little to keep my distance. They stop approaching. "I cannot be part of this council in perpetuity. I am here to seek aid and find answers."

"Firm assurance: you shall have them," Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings says, clacking one of their claws as emphasis. "If this matter is urgent, you are invited to name it presently."

I shapeshift into an almost fully human form, enduring the pressure and the water for a few solid seconds before returning to my preferred aquatic build.

"In case you have not encountered them down here, for they do not and cannot live in the water, that is the basic form of my people. We are not designed in the same way you are. We are different. But my beloved, who was blessed by Legion, was taken by a Queen of Legion in order to be given her reverent form."

"Approval," A Blossom of Wilted Chances sends.

"Harsh negation," I hiss in response. "My beloved's mind did not survive the change. Her reverent form drives her to madness, because the brain structure of my kind cannot be so easily converted like a common worker. We were not built for this. We cannot survive it and remain ourselves. But because we are not connected with the network, my beloved couldn't explain this until it was too late, and the Queen had already killed her council member."

The water reeks with a sudden influx of grief.

"This joyous occasion brings with it many terrible tidings," Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings comments. "But know that even Possibility does not raise the departed back to life. If this is what you seek, we can offer companionship as our only succor."

"She is dead but she is not dead," I answer. "Not truly, for several reasons. The first is her blessing itself: it splits her into many, and not every part of her has been broken by the change. These fragments cannot return to her body without being driven mad, but they exist independently for now. Secondly, her brain has been improperly reconstructed, but proper reconstruction should be possible."

"All things are possible," The Divinity of Wonder hums. "But all things cannot happen. As futures arrive, futures close."

"Annoyance. I am fully aware of how the fundamental passage of time works," I say. "The repair of a brain deconstructed and reconstructed incorrectly. Can it be done? The Queen of Legion claimed she could not simply undo what she did because the previous body was 'untouched by Legion,' and she could not make bodies untouched by her god."

"Confusion: untouched by Legion?" Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings asks.

"Supposition: like the water when we first arrived," A Blossom of Wilted Chances says.

"Absurdity," Chaos protests.

"Disagreement. Plausible," Blossom insists. "No Queens. No reverence. Our new council member comes from a godless species by nature."

"Discomfort. Concern. Supposition is difficult to conceive," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures answers, though they don't dispute.

"Potentially useful interjection," a Raptor chimes in to my surprise. "The food that moves holds host to no god. New council member was originally food that moves."

"Insightful," The Divinity of Wonder praises. "Implications concerning."

"Agreement," nearly every alien concurs.

"I am uncertain if I'm following this conversation completely," I admit, "but this deep into the water it is unlikely any of the 'food that moves' is from a species capable of being blessed by gods. My people live only on… solid surfaces."

Hmm. The concept of 'dry land' translates a little weird, doesn't it? I guess their home universe was largely weightless. Or… soupy enough to have the same effect, maybe? Tabling that thought for later.

"Your information is noted but was not the primary concern," A Blossom of Wilted Chances says. "It is that you could have been born without divinity."

"…Are not all blessed originally unblessed?" I ask, ready to react if it turns out I'm about to be declared a heretic.

"Correct," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures says. "Relevance unclear."

They're getting very uncomfortable now. I don't like this. I prepare to move.

"Suggestion for name: Bleeding Silence Disturbs the World." A Blossom of Wilted Chances says, staring at me and radiating discomfort.

"Have additional kindness," The Divinity of Wonder chides.

"Dual agreement," Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings rumbles. "Your phrasing is poor, A Blossom of Wilted Chances, but your worry is shared. New council member, we beseech you again to project your mind."

Yeah. You know what? Fuck it. I can just ask. They always answer when I ask.

"Am I in danger?" I send through the network.

Shock. Confusion. Negation. No, they all shout in surprise. Of course I'm not. Why would I be? And you know, that's a good question.

"Under what conditions would I be in danger of attack by present forces?" I ask. "Please include hypotheticals about my nature."

"Shock. Sympathy. Lack of comprehension," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures sends.

"There is no situation where you are in danger here," The Divinity of Wonder assures me.

"Falsehood," A Blossom of Wilted Chances corrects. "You would be in danger if you engaged in a violent offensive. You would be in danger if you were blessed by Blasphemy with some ability to hide your affiliation and sent here to corrupt us. You would be in danger if you made me exceptionally angry."

"Am I making you angry?" I ask.

"No, you are just strange and sad," A Blossom of Wilted Chances answers. "Are you unable to tell? Is your selective silence also selective deafness?"

"Would I be in danger if I was declared to be loved by Blasphemy by one of its Queens?" I ask.

"No, but it would speak poorly of your character," A Blossom of Wilted Chances answers.

"Admonishment!" The Divinity of Wonder interjects.

"What if I then assisted in the murder of that Queen?" I ask.

"An even worse indication of your character," A Blossom of Wilted Chances says. "But being poor of heart and mind will not place you in danger, except insofar as it reduces the likelihood of wise decisions."

"A Blossom of Wilted Chances proves her point quite capably by serving as an example," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures jabs, to which Blossom responds by raising her (?) tendrils and bearing her bladed limbs threateningly. Although… I can tell it is just a mock threat, a performative dance between two people who know each other well enough to throw insults without consequence.

Interesting pronoun choice, though. I've probably been misleading the aliens by using the closest thing they have to a feminine descriptor when talking about Maria, because what 'she' basically means is 'current or future Queen.' Not sure about the politics and/or religion behind that, so I guess I'll just note it for later.

"I have done as requested and shared my thoughts," I say. "Please continue to determine if the sanity of my beloved can be recovered."

Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings clacks their claws together loudly, and I swim another pace back. Hmm. Kind of a weird response from me, honestly. If I think I'm in danger, I should probably be moving towards it. I'm much stronger up close. I guess I'm almost definitely not in danger, but… I don't know. I know I'm being stupid but I'm still doing it anyway. Why wasn't I flinching this much when dealing with the worshippers of Legion? I was like eighty percent adrenaline by volume at the time, and my trip here was, frankly, relaxing.

…Actually, is that why?

"What is the maximum amount of time you are capable of staying with us?" Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings asks.

"Twenty-five cycles of the light above leaving and returning," I answer. "Is there a good way to check that down here?"

"The good way to check is to take regular trips up, which our workers can do for you," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures answers. "Sympathy. Concern. Duty. The Divinity of Wonder?"

"I understand and concur," the Queen answers. "Blessed of Possibility, new soul of our council, I believe we have several ideas on how your problem may be solved. There is, as there always is, the possibility of failure. But there is, as there always is, a chance to deny Failure completely. We will make this our primary task. However, much of it concerns the nature of Queens and our duties. As such, we have no related task for you at this time."

"Proposition: the one who calls themselves Thief of Torn Wings to be given injury recovery as primary task, and education as secondary task," Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings says.

"Agreement," the Queen says.

"Agreement," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures says.

"Disagreement," I say. "I am not injured."

"Agreement," A Blossom of Wilted Chances says. "Education is clearly a priority if our new council member cannot even tell what injuries are."

"I have perfect control over my entire biological form," I protest. "I am very plainly not injured."

"But are you safe, Thief of Torn Wings?" A Blossom of Wilted Chances asks.

"I… hope so?" I respond.

"Agreement with proposition reiterated," A Blossom of Wilted Chances affirms. "Four out of five majority."

"Your task has been assigned," The Divinity of Wonder tells me. "Do you accept or reject it?"

"What happens if I reject it?" I ask.

"This is not a situation that requires urgency, so we continue to discuss," The Divinity of Wonder explains. "This is not something that should be done lightly, but it may be done."

"I do not know how to heal an injury that does not exist," I say. "It seems to me that you are taking issue with the way I communicate. That is not an injury. I simply prefer to not share information needlessly."

"Why?" Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures asks, swimming in a restless circle.

Because information is power, and the more information people have about me the more power they have over me. Sometimes, this isn't a big deal. You can use what people do and don't know to influence and control how they choose to exert power over you. You can also just freely give power to people you trust and it's not a big deal. But here? In the middle of a Queen's domain, surrounded by Angels with unknown powers? Even if they genuinely want to help me, that doesn't mean I trust them with literally all of my thoughts. I don't trust anyone with literally all of my thoughts. That'd just be insane.

But that's just how these aliens exist. They don't understand anything else. Explaining this is hard enough with other humans, I don't really want to try with a species that lacks the necessary cultural context to understand social manipulation in the first place. And honestly, if they could understand? That might just be worse. The fact that the aliens are deathly weak to social manipulation is one of my biggest advantages against them, and they're only weak to it because they don't understand it. At least half of my victories in literal life-or-death war come from this fact. Why would I ever risk giving it up?

If these people are really as interested as they seem to be in embracing me as one of them come hell or high water, then they can get used to it. And if they aren't as interested as they seem to be, well… that's important to know, too.

"Silence again," Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings notes sadly.

"Name suggestion: Smells Like Headwinds," A Blossom of Wilted Chances chimes in.

"Rejected!" The Divinity of Wonder responds immediately, scandalized.

"Rejected," Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures says with the scent equivalent of an eye-roll.

"Approved," Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings says. "Reasoning: joy begets healing, and I am amused."

"An even vote. Smells Like Headwinds must supply the tiebreaker," Blossom asserts.

"I do not wish to be called Smells Like Headwinds," I say.

"Everything you say is sad," Chaos complains.

"Perhaps I should reiterate that I am here because my beloved has been driven to maddened agony by the mistakes of a Council that refused to listen to anything I had to say," I answer, "and that I am not and have never truly been a member of your species. You should not expect me to be like you. You should not expect me to be happy to be here."

The Angels and the unblessed alike respond with an emotion somewhat like mourning. I wouldn't call it a truly alien emotion, it's not something I struggle to understand, but it is something I struggle to describe. I want to say they feel sorry for me, but it doesn't feel quite right.

"We shall do our utmost to change that," The Divinity of Wonder promises. "For it is likely you shall be here for some time, and it is our hope that you will return after you leave. You are always welcome here, happy or not, but we wish for your happiness."

"Being nothing like us will not make us reject you," Chaos assures me. "It makes you all the easier to embrace."

"Your existence is a possibility we never could have considered without you," Wanderings agrees. "You are greatly blessed and a great blessing."

"We will teach you what you need to know," Blossom agrees, "and in turn, you will teach us of yourself and the possibilities you see. As it was when I joined, so it will be for you."

"Rest, Thief of Torn Wings," the Queen says. "You are home."

It's all very kind words. But again, I don't know what to say to them, so I just stay silent. I guess if nothing else, a rest would probably do me some good.