For the Record

I’m… just going to ignore the nonsense for now and assume this is something, uh, maybe Erebus did?

(Let’s just go with that,) Nyx sighs and points at one of the teleporter pads. (You want that one. Gramr.)

I step onto the platform she indicated, and feel myself dissipate again.

Shortly after, I reform in a similar, but very different station. An attendant… Is this one a ‘he’ too?

(Nope. That one’s definitely a ‘she’,) my Assistant corrects me.

She, then. Anyway, she’s gesturing for people arriving on what I assume are dedicated arrival teleporter pads to move along so they’re clear for further inbound use… hey, what would happen if we just stayed here?

(The pad wouldn’t allow inbound use as long as there’s someone interfering with its defined space. That’s another one I helped with, you’re welcome,) Nyx smugly brags.

Alright, fine. I head toward the exit – clearly marked, and apparently in a different room altogether than the outgoing pads. I’d assume the same of the honeycomb station, since I don’t remember seeing any inbound pads when I was there.

Stepping outside, I’m immediately overwhelmed by the amount of neon lighting and people milling about. The ground is a geometric cobblestone pattern and the buildings, most of which are multiple stories and just far enough apart to allow alleyways between them, are a stark reversal of the honeycomb’s uniform look.

(Welcome to Gramr, best plane outside the higher planes!) she says as she smiles and spreads her arms wide in a greeting gesture.

Best how?

(Best night life, best booze, best drugs, best people. Security’s pretty tight too, most folks here are ascendants so if anyone starts trouble everyone within earshot will dogpile them, sometimes even get the governing body involved and get them kicked right out, access revoked through the portal system and everything.)

Huh. If they’re all ascendants then I assume plenty of them have identification Skills of some kind? I’m a beacon right now, aren’t I?

(Oh, most definitely. Try using Identify yourself.)

I have a bad feeling about this, but I give it a try anyway. I’m immediately blasted by a deluge of information, most of which is in black or green text, but through my painful squint and sudden headache I notice that there are a handful of red identify results as well. When I reach my limit, I turn it off and rub my aching skull.

[Identify has reached level 4!]

…

[Identify has reached level 7!]

Woah.

Was that what you were trying to do?

(No, I was making a point, but there’s nothing wrong with happy accidents. Maybe now you can identify Tools – quick, try it on your title!) she teases.

Oh shut up. I’m never going to live this down.

(Damned right.)

Anyway, I chaperone my headache and my laughing Assistant down a side alley that seems to lead away from the crowds and noise, at least somewhat. Once I’m there, I find a less populated space to drop and reactivate Verum Corpus. I’m pleased to find that just like when I was drunk before, my headache dissipates as soon as I lack a physical body. The others loitering in the alleyway give me strange looks, but ultimately ignore me. I assume it’s because I didn’t actually act the part of the scary monster. Not bad.

(Exactly. Best plane.)

Sure. Now, where the hells are we going?

(First we need to stop somewhere else.)

Of course we do. And? Where is it?

Nyx directs me down a series of other alleys which eventually lead us back to the main thoroughfare, where we walk for… you know what, screw this. I drop my material body and immediately compress myself into a rock, attaching myself to the lure I’m already forming. Then I hop into the air and drift much more quickly in the direction she was leading me.

(Spoilsport. The journey’s most of the fun,) she huffs as she drifts alongside me. I guess she can drift too as long as I think she can.

In far less time than it would have taken, Nyx stops me in front of a bustling nightclub. I switch back to my physical body and start heading for the end of the line before she waves me off and heads down the adjoining alley, so I follow her. A fair distance down she stops in front of a runesteel door with a closed eyeslot.

(Knock five times and when you’re prompted say you’re here to return the cufflinks. Do NOT break eye contact.)

Hey fine. I knock five times and after a moment the eyeslot glides open.

“Start talking,” a gruff voice from inside says.

“I’m here to return the cufflinks,” I answer.

The eyeslot immediately slams shut and I can almost make out the sound of rapid movement inside. Maybe they changed the password?

(It wasn’t a password,) Nyx says.

Huh.

A few short moments later the door abruptly opens, almost smacking me in the face. Inside is a well dressed… man? I’ll say man. Anyway, he looks like he’s seen a ghost, and considering my ancestry he wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

“…Nyxie?” he whispers.

(Pyrias,) Nyx whispers back. Which, he obviously can’t hear.

Is he trustworthy?

(With my life,) she answers. (It’s why we’re here.)

Good, a possible ally. If nothing else a useful connection.

“Yes and no. We have a lot to talk about. Let’s go inside,” I say.

The man steps to the side and gestures in, and that’s when I notice his legs end in hooves. Some kind of demon?

(Not even close, he’s a satyr.)

Close enough.

I ignore her sigh and follow the satyr’s lead into the building. It’s possibly one of the most extravagant places I’ve been, with the walls, carpeting, and several sofas lining the walls and in a circle in the middle of the room all done bright tones of velvet. He leads me past the many people reclining and chatting and up a set of stairs in the back, through a secured door.

The new room is populated by two similarly velvet sofas, with what I can tell is a finely crafted low table between them. He gestures to one side and stands near the other expectantly.

(He’s waiting for you to sit, idiot.)

What? Why?

(Some men do that when interacting with women.)

Ok, sure. But, I’m not a woman.

(You look like me. I look like a woman. Get the connection?) she snaps.

Ah. I sit down, and after retrieving a bottle of liquor and two short glasses from a nearby cabinet he sits as well.

“Well babe, start talking, if there are things to say. I thought you were dead. We all did, gods Nyxie, what the hells happened to you? You said you were coming back with a surprise!” the satyr animatedly expels.

“First, calm down,” I coldly reply. He looks genuinely hurt for a moment, but at least does take a breath. And so, I continue.

“I guess in a way I both am and am not Nyx. She says I can trust you, so I’m willing to talk about it.”

(You’re not me, asshole. Don’t even pretend,) Nyx snarls.

This is how I’m playing this. You’re in my head for better or worse, so I’m speaking for you. Plus I look just like you, right?

She sits on the sofa next to me and sulks.

“What does that mean?” the gentleman across from me asks.

“Erebus betrayed Nyx. Betrayed me too. As I understand it, she was going to help Nyx begin her apotheosis. Instead, once she was vulnerable, Erebus performed some other ritual that shredded my soul enough to get some unfortunate titles. Lost my memory too. Or, ego, I suppose?” I muse.

“And what happened to Nyx then?” he prompts.

“She’s my System Assistant against her will.”

If he looked hurt before, he’s devastated now. “Oh… oh babe… I… wait, why do you look like her then?”

“We have no idea. We’ve had a number of weird coincidences since being joined like this. None of them make much sense, especially considering Erebus was riding my body as a vessel for at least a year.”

“Your identify results say you’re an elemental. What are you really, then?” he pointedly asks.

I don’t respond, and instead drop Verum Corpus, allowing my body to disperse into fine ash swirling slowly around the room.

“Oh,” Pyrias whispers.