The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

1:00 PM | Central Anuem | October 9th | 1403 COVENANT

But despite that sense of something growing within Lilith, it became like one of those sneezes that just refused to come out, itching and aching ever more yet never seeming to arrive at a climax. Her uncle's regular questioning continued, but slowly took on a different tone in a way that even she could discern, like even he was just going through the motions rather than expecting any sort of new response. Then, one week, he didn't show up at all, leaving her to participate in the post-lesson play session for the first time she could remember.

It was the week after that when it happened. Summer had come and gone, and after several diversions they had finally completed the novel they'd been reading, which ended with an absurd resolution where the main character traveled back to her homeland using a pair of shoes. One of the other children had expressed annoyance at it, leading Miss Fallows to go on a long digression about how this version they were reading was not quite the original, but rather a reconstruction made by a committee of people who remembered parts of the story in different formats with varying fidelity-- And that in the original, there had been a more satisfying resolution for all of the primary characters. (The shoe part was still in there, though.)

Since then, the discussion had moved on to broader questions about the book - which parts the class had liked and hadn't liked, who the author was and the circumstances of its writing, and even a little bit about the meaning of the text. Miss Fallows had been slowly touching on more advanced topics lately, seeming more willing to explicitly lay out the why of the things they were learning rather than simply presenting information with little broader context. Perhaps it was this, or perhaps it was mere whim, that led Lilith to be paying a little more attention than usual.

"It's a particularly valuable story to me because, in a way, we're in a situation much like Dorothy or the wizard," Miss Fallows explained. "We're somewhere very far away from home, where the customs and scenery are uncanny and often seem silly, in some ways similar to what we know but in others very different. And there are people who don't like us being here, who think of us as a threat just because of who we are."

Based on Lilith's reading of the text, this last sentence struck her as something of a stretch, but she wasn't inclined to try and communicate this.

"So why can't we go home, like they did?" asked Clair, who as usual was monopolizing the teacher's attention.

Miss Fallows smiled gently. "Unfortunately, outside of books, it takes a little more than a book or a pair of magic shoes to travel between worlds."

"But, y'know what I mean," the precarious girl insisted. "There must be something we could do. Something we could make. I mean-- I mean, I learned in history that people first came to the Remaining World in big voidships, that were so strong they could cross the whole universe. Couldn't we build one of those?"

"It's not that simple, Clair," the teacher answered sadly. "We can't say for sure, but our home probably doesn't exist any more. Even if it does, so much time has gone by now that it would be... very, very different. Not a place it would be easy for people to live." She sighed. "Besides which, the Remaining World is hard to leave. You could think of it like a very, very deep well. It's easy to jump down, but climbing out is another matter."

The girl looked a little confused by this vague explanation, and Miss Fallows seemed to realize this, quickly digressing: "But the message of the book isn't about finding a way home, not really. Rather, it's about finding that, more often than not, the key to what you want is with you all along. The Scarecrow, Tin Woodman and Cowardly Lion all have great virtues and qualities of leadership - places they belong in the world - but simply can't see it. The wizard disguises himself with grand illusions out of fear, when in the end his intellect and charisma are more than enough on their own. Dorothy turns out to have a way to go home all along, and more to the point, that home is all she truly needs." She considered for a moment before proceeding. "I'm sure many of you have heard from your parents or grandparents what it was like for them, when they first came here. How they might have been punished for who they were, or lied to, or forced into silence, or rejected by the families of their other halves. I went through some of that too, when I was younger, and I'd often escape into dreams like the one you're talking about. Of being able to wipe away this world, and make everything like it used to be. To just go home."

"Where was your home, miss?" some boy asked. He was one of the quieter ones; Lilith didn't bother remembering the names of her classmates unless they were especially noisy.

"A little city named Hobart, over here," she said, stepping over to the map of Earth present next to the blackboard and pointing to the the bottom of a small island beneath a bigger island that in normal school they called Jiaodai. "It was a lovely place. Felt very far away from most of the world's troubles." She glanced downward for a moment. "But it was pointless to think like that. Home, in the end, isn't a place at all, but rather the people you love and who love you in turn. In that sense, this world is just as good as any other. We just need to make a place for ourselves in it."

It was in moments like these that Lilith felt almost tempted to actually ask a question. At some point recently, a light had switched on in her head, and the obvious targeted withholding of information had gone from being simply odd to very annoying. Why would she not explain what had happened to her home? What the great evil that was supposed to have attacked them actually was, and how it had brought them to the Remaining World?

In June, while left to her own devices in normal school, Lilith had come across a fantasy story in the library that described the concept of a 'parallel world'. The story itself had been extremely bad; there was a boy who traveled back in time to combat a vague threat with two adolescent girls, one a childhood friend and the other an aloof upperclassman described as a 'unprecedented super genius', with the narrative being largely concerned not with the antagonists but rather which of the two girls he favored interpersonally, which in her eyes seemed something of a moot point. (Later they were joined by an anthropomorphic feminine golem from the future who was even more irritating and also became involved in this dichotomy.)

However, at one point the characters talked to a scientist who had developed the time travel mechanism, and he outlined a theory where, every time an event which could go multiple different ways occurred, the entire universe branched off in different directions based on these possibilities, all existing simultaneously. Meaning other worlds would exist where major historical turning points went completely differently; where there had been no collapse, where the Rhunbardic Empire had never fallen, where the Grand Alliance had lost the Great Interplanar War and died in the crib.

Her own research on the logic sea had made this seem like a popular idea, but after bringing this up to her natural philosophy teacher - who confiscated the book for some reason - he'd told her that this theory was disproven: That there was only one continuous timeline, the nature of which was predetermined through the structure of the Timeless Realm. It had occurred to her that this might have been one of those things that were a secret to everyone who didn't attend the meetings, so she'd also stammered out a question about it to Miss Fallows on a day she was early to class, who'd acted uneasy but also confirmed it was scientifically inaccurate. She called it the 'many-worlds interpretation' and went into the history of how there had originally been two different rules people used to understand how the world worked - one for gravity, and one for everything else - and called it an artifact of that era.

So if that wasn't it, then...?

But there was a reason beyond awkwardness that she restrained her desire to know more. There was another boy - Juan was the name he'd been using in the classes, or something like that - who'd clearly been having similar thoughts. Out of nowhere one day, he'd challenged Miss Fallow's refrain that both worlds were equally real. He said that one had to be fake, or at least less real: A reconstruction, simulation, illusion, fiction. She'd denied this as usual, but what later struck Lilith was odd was the fact that she'd interpreted his words as if he was saying that the world taught in the sessions, 'Ur-thha', had to be the fake one.

If she'd had the words for it, she would have called it strangely insecure. That the world remembered outside these walls was beyond doubt and needed no defense, whereas the position of the one she taught was precarious. Perhaps that was only natural, but then why not at least flirt with the idea that the boy's reasoning could be true in the opposite direction? Did she herself doubt what she preached?

The boy had refused to drop the point for some time. Since then he'd stopped attending classes. Miss Fallows had indicated he wouldn't be returning until after his reunification.

For the first time, this had left Lamu feeling chilled. Her scattered mind was slowly sharpening, and something about this whole situation had begun to feel sinister. Yet she had no idea what to do with that feeling.

She didn't catch him watching her like he usually did, but after the lesson was ended it turned out her uncle was waiting for her, seated in quiet vigil against the far wall of the bustling lounge area, his enormous frame concealed by a grey-brown cloak. Despite his size, he sometimes had a strange ability to fade into the background of a room. His face had a dumpy quality; bald, rounded nose, sad eyes. It was difficult to call him frightening when not in silhouette.

"Hello, Lilith," he said to her on her way out, his partially-synthetic voice tired.

She came to a stop, but offered nothing in response.

"I apologize for not letting you know I wouldn't be here last time," he told her. "We'll be doing something a little different today. Same place, though."

Slowly, he rose to his feet - he carried a wooden cane when he was without his staff, even though Lamu had never witnessed his mechanical legs falter - and walked slowly towards the opening at the basement's rear, leading to two smaller private rooms. They passed a contrasting mix of one group of people having an extremely grave conversation while stood at a planning table, and another playing some kind of complicated board game involving a panoply of dice. The atmosphere in those places had, looking back, always been strikingly discordant. An entire life's worth of moods and experiences crammed into such a tight space. Desperate, needful.

Her uncle took her to the room on the left, which was where they usually met: A small chamber with nothing but a round table and four plush chairs. But while they were normally alone, today someone else was present: A Viraaki woman, somewhat aged and with greying hair tied back tightly in a bun, dressed like an office worker. The scepter, the head of which was shaped like some kind of bird, marked her as an arcanist, though of course that was nothing exceptional here.

She turned to look at Lilith the moment they arrived, as if her uncle wasn't even there, squinting at her like a piece of merchandise at market.

After a wordless nod in her direction, her uncle sat as well, and prompted Lilith to do likewise. "We'll start as we usually do," he began. "How is your--"

"No, Kane. We're getting straight to the point." Her uncle quickly turned his eyes downward in resignation, while she reached into a bag hanging over her shoulder. "Lilith of Eshkalon, I am going to show you a series of pictures. I want you to tell me what you see when you look at them. Do you understand?"

LIlith didn't reply, partly because she was overstimulated by this sudden subversion of her expectations, and partly because she didn't understand what this strange woman meant by 'tell me what you see'.

She finished withdrawing a brown envelope from her bag, then looked at Lilith harshly and impatiently. "Do. You. Understand."

"Maisa, please," her uncle said stoically, not looking back up. "You know that she has difficulty communicating. Taking a tone like that will only make it worse." The woman glared daggers at him, but turned and spoke calmly. "Lilith, she is merely asking you to inspect images and describe them as best as you can. Just as I've seen you dissect artwork you've seen to me in the past. You can do that, can you not?"

She nodded slowly.

"Good. Good." He turned to the woman, gesturing forward. "Please."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The envelope was torn open, and the picture, printed on a white sheet, passed to her. Looking at it, Lilith realized these were going to be photographs, which threw her off somewhat after her uncle's comparison. Still, she tried to follow his words literally."

"This." Lilith said. "This is. An image of a large house. It is three stories tall. The architectural style makes it look like it is from the. T-The Ysaran-Rhunbardic border, somewhere in the Akinesti Mountains. It is black and white. The shadows make it look like it is early afternoon. It is facing towerward. The image is flat."

"Don't just describe it literally," the woman reprimanded her. "Describe your feelings. Your emotional response, if you feel angry or sad or confused."

Lilith stared at her blankly.

"For fuck's sake," she said, sitting back in her chair.

Her uncle was silent himself, almost fading into the background again. Lilith felt uncomfortably isolated, a feeling that was worsened when the woman reached out and grabbed her hand, causing her whole body to tense up. She tried to jerk away, but was held firmly.

"What are you doing?" her uncle asked.

"Taking her pulse. If she won't explain herself, that's the next best thing."

He looked disapproving, but didn't comment further.

With her free hand, the woman passed her the next photo. A part of Lilith wanted to start screaming until whatever this was stopped, but this person was intimidating, so she restrained herself. She looked at the image and repeated the process.

"This is an image of a. A large hall. The ceiling is high and there are many paintings on the wall. Portraits. There is a long table in the middle, and twenty chairs on each side, and one at the far end. There is a fireplace behind it, I. I think." She squinted. "There are people. Two of them are lying on the floor on the left side. Four of them are sitting down with their heads on the table. There is something spilled on the table, too. The composition is. Is bad, it's hard to understand."

Her uncle and the woman shared a look. She was passed a third photo.

"This one is in color. It's an image of a canyon. There is smoke coming from it. It seems to have been taken from a high space. The angle istoofarto-- To the right, and it makes it ugly to look at. I don't like it--"

"Enough." The woman dropped her wrist like it was litter, then snatched the photos back, putting the envelope back in her bag. "This is a waste of time. So much for your fears, Kane. She's not responding one iota, not even physically. There's nothing there."

"We should discuss this outside," he said quickly.

She glared at him angrily. "You're not--"

"Please."

The woman was still for a moment, then abruptly stood up from the chair, walking in long strides through the door. Her uncle rose after her, leaning his cane, and flashed a brief apologetic look as he shut the door behind him, leaving Lilith alone.

Despite the fact that they had clearly left out of a desire to remove her from the conversation, the other private room must have been occupied, as they continued their dialogue right outside. Though they spoke in a hushed tone, it was extremely easy to hear what they were saying regardless. Lilith didn't understand why they'd bothered, and why they wouldn't just let her leave.

"As I was saying. She's completely unresponsive even to direct stimuli. This experiment of yours is obviously a failure."

"She's not even ten, Maisa, and she has other difficulties that could well be products of random chance." Even when in argument, her uncle spoke in a slow, methodical tone that almost came across as disinterested. "We've discussed this extensively."

"You yourself said it, Kane. You said it. That the photos would shock her, bring everything back too when she was still too young. And instead there's nothing?"

"I did not necessarily mean immediately. She can be slow to process information, slow to show when she has."

"Oh, bullshit."

"We didn't expect any serious level of association until puberty from the beginning. That was the entire premise." He inhaled, then exhaled. "I want to speak with Michael. He understands the parameters of the endeavor."

"The chapter lead is stepping down at the end of next year. I'm the one on the hook for this now, the one who has to justify the insane expense of your project to the Five Chairs."

"It's not my project."

"Samium and Zeno's project then, whatever! I don't give a damn." Her voice lowered slightly. "The point is, you're already on thin ice after what happened 20 years ago. It's really starting to seem as though you're stalling for time, so we don't notice you're leading a lobotomized organization with no talent left, one that's constantly imperiling us and draining resources."

"That isn't the case. We've made great strides since █ █ █ █ █ was removed from his position. The results are well-documented."

"Are they? You've certainly given us a great number of very impressive reports, but somehow every time the pudding is tested, something like this happens. If you're so confident, show your work. How the technology functions."

"That is against the terms of our agreement. We are allowed to conduct our affairs and research independently."

"Kane, that agreement was struck before half the people in this basement were born, when you were credible. When the Five Chairs saw your organization as a golden goose on their doorstep and not a fucking vampire on their necks. Do you seriously think you can keep making these excuses? That your cult following and old name will protect you from being broken down for parts?"

There were a few moments of silence.

"I'm not going to lie to you," the woman continued. "I needed good news today. People died last month keeping the Censors from finding your ship. If you can't make some kind of concession, or show me some proof what you put in her brain didn't just fry it like an egg, then this is not going to go well."

"...I understand what you're saying."

"Do you. What are we doing, then?"

"What if I were to tell you there was a way to prove the efficacy of the process beyond all doubt? And that I would only require a few hours."

"I'd say that sounds utterly impossible."

"Regardless, I struggle to imagine how it would do any harm to delay your decision for less than a day. I know that you will be taking your flight tomorrow, but are you able to meet this evening, or in the morning?"

"Kane, this is deranged."

"Can you?"

"I can meet in the morning. But this is deranged."

"I will bring Lilith to meet you then, and we will resolve this one way or the other. Will that be all?"

"...fine," she said after several moments. "Fine. If you want to drag this out for one more miserable fucking day, then be my guest." Lilith heard her begin walking away. "I'll see you then."

Lilith heard the woman walk away, after which there was a long period in which nothing happened. She wondered for a moment if perhaps her uncle had left, but eventually the door opened. Her uncle looked at her, his eyes unusually shiny.

"Lilith," he said. "It's time to go, but we'll be making a stop on the way home. There is something that I must give you."

𒊹

10:56 PM | The Ninsirsir, Deck 3 | December 31st | 1608 COVENANT

There was a part of Lamu that had suspected that the agent would be Seth. Nhi said she'd already been well aware they were all here, after all, and It would fit her stupid sense of humor perfectly to have him just show up.

However, it turned out to just be some guy; also Mekhian, but much older and with almost the exact opposite body type. He was surprised and somewhat annoyed when she made her excuses at the table and approached him directly, hissing that she was putting them both at risk if there actually was a threat, but fortunately her plan bore fruit in exactly the manner she'd hoped: A man named Seth was the commanders of the military arcanists overseeing this event.

The problem was what he was commander of. He wasn't on their ship at all, but instead on the bridge of the Royal Penitence, one of the two escort ships guarding their flanks. While this was extremely annoying, it was not a complete dead end. It was not excessively difficult for an experienced arcanist to travel a small distance through the vacuum of space independently, and based on her conversation with the servant she and Gudrun held earlier, this was not considered an operation that required a great deal of martial diligence. Everyone would be taking long breaks, especially as the evening drew on. They would surely have their logic engines.

But when she'd subtly made a link to Theodoros and suggested he try calling him, he once again became very reticent. Despite the threat to both of them, he didn't seem pleased with the news at all, and insisted - now that we knew he was here - that it would be better to just wait until after midnight. He said that most of the officers were usually relieved from duty at that point, and often joined the after-party at the bar, and it would be 'less awkward' to run into him there. When she'd pushed him, he started glaring at her and stopped taking her calls.

Lamu was infuriated by how difficult he was being. Obviously there was some esoteric emotional undercurrent to his behavior, but did he not understand the fucking situation? She entertained the idea that he could be working with the enemy after all. Evidently he was extremely sympathetic to Utsushikome of Fusai. He could be a stalling tactic against her, designed to muddy the waters and make her actions ineffective.

Without his help, though, there was little she could do. Ptolema of Rheeds had left at some point, and she had to admit Bardiya was so close to the stage that approaching him would certainly cause issues. She'd realized the event was probably being recorded. If her face was captured in such a way that it would later be seen, that would be an issue.

And despite her hopes, there was no sign of Ezekiel.

The night drew on; dessert, and then a seemingly-infinite procession of prestigious-yet-somehow-terrible stage acts. There were gymnasts. A second comedian who roasted Tar-Isgansar by calling him the 'most cuckolded politician alive'. A woman who sang a near-20 minute long acapella ballad that made her feel like a cat that had been mistakenly locked in the washroom overnight. There was even improv.

Framing it all were two things: The charity auction, which offered a procession of items and services so obviously worthless and yet phantasmagorically priced that they made her genuinely question the appeal of being rich in a way she never had before, and Gudrun and Malko's descent into utter drunken depravity, all awkwardness that had briefly existed between them erased by their circumstances of mutual captivity. By the time they were coming up on 11, all pretense of Gudrun being anything other than some kind of ocean predator in a woman's body had been obliterated, and Malko didn't even seem phased.

"Y'know, I've killed a man too," he said mirthfully as he poured her another glass.

"Oh, no shit! What did you-- I mean, how'd you do it? Who was he?"

"Gods, it was this douche from-- Theo knows this story-- It was this prick I used to know from tertiary school, absolute cunt, trod on whoever he pleased, father the chairman of some landholding company, just absolute slime of high society, less than human, the kind of thing that grows on your bathroom walls. We were at this yearly thing he did, this party up in his lodge in the mountains, and we'd all snorted some cocaine - you know, as you do at this things - and he said we should play, fuck, what's it called, with the revolver. You know, you load it and you like, pass it around."

"I know," Gudrun assured him. "I know. I did that once but it was like, blowjobs."

"What the fuck? You're fucking kidding. That's not real. Fuck you, Turaggothi slut." He laughed as if this were the funniest thing anyone had ever said.

"No, this happened, I swear! I swear. For real."

"How would that even work."

"Well, y'know, it was like this guy's dick, and we all like, we had to do it for a minute or some shit, and whoever got him to-- Whoever got him to, y'know-- When he--"

Both he and Gudrun burst again into inconsolable laughter, the former leaning back and the latter practically collapsing forward onto the table. Lamu and Theodoros shared a look like they were at a funeral.

"But no," Gudrun chimed back up once she managed to calm down. "What, like, the story--"

"No, yeah yeah, so he said we were going to play the game, and like, I was high as fuck here, I thought he was doing a bit, right? Like when you break out the divination tools when the party is dying off as a last resort. Obviously it wouldn't be a real gun-- What kind of psychopath just has an antique gun on him? But no, we did the thing, four of us at the table, click click, I'm up next, point it at my temple, nothing happens. I hand the gun to this asshole, he gets cold feet, playing it off as a joke. And I'm saying, 'no man, you're locked in! We did it, you've got to--"

"Oh my god, I know where this is going, oh my god--"

"--to do it, and he tries to get up, and I say something like, 'you're not getting away that easily!' and bam! Right through his kidney or something!"

"Dude, that's fucked!"

"I know, I know, I'm playing it off here like it's funny, but it was a nightmare. I went to, you know, it went to the courts obviously, counseling-- Ten whole years of my life down the sink. But fuck it was funny, looking back. Absolute pitch-perfect karma. Really just pours the religion right in you."

"Mal..." Theo said, his brow wrinkled.

"I know, Theo. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be flippant. Back then I was always-- But I'm not the man I was back then, you know that. I'm not." He suddenly looked extremely sad.

"Aw, hey, c'mon bro! It's cool," Gudrun assured him. "Killing people like, y'know, it's just-- Shit happens, you know? Sometimes you fuck up, sometimes it's kill or be killed. When I was a kid it scared me too, but the world is just like that. Happens to everybody sooner or later, doesn't really matter how it goes down in the end." She took a drink. "And hey, y'know you're in good company! I've killed people, your boyfriend's probably killed a guy--"

"I haven't," Theo corrected her quickly.

"Lamu's definitely killed a guy. We were working with this dude before, this Saoic dude, he was like the head of our team, and some crap went down - I don't wanna get into it, too complicated - and he probably saw something he shouldn't, and she fuckin' merced him! Like I didn't see it, but she totally did!" She laughed again.

Lamu felt the blood rush out of her face, her posture stiffening. She regarded the other woman carefully.

Mal put a hand over his mouth, obviously not taking this remotely serious. "Oh my god, you two are insane. Where did they find you?"

"Anue, I don't even wanna get into--" She cut herself off as her gaze wandered to Lamu's face. "Wait, Lam Lam, what are-- Shit, did you think I hadn't figured? Seriously?" She burst into a cackle. "I thought we just weren't talking about it! Oh fuck, that's so funny! This bitch thinks I'm retarded!"

"I," Lamu said stiltedly. "I. Mm."

"Oh! Nononono, don't be sad!" Gudrun said soothingly. "It's cool dude! I'm not pissed, you saved my life and shit! I mean it's a little annoying you were thinking like that I guess, but it's sexy when you're condescending. Condescexy. Condescexding." Her gaze wandered into the middle distance.

In the midst of this seeming one-sidedly tense moment, something was happening on the stage. The crowd had grown quieter for the first time in a while, and the lights were dimmed in a way they hadn't been for the previous acts, and the announcer seemed to be finishing one of her longer mini-speeches.

"Uup," Malko said, downing another drink himself. "Here he comes. The big cheese himself."

Lamu didn't understand what he meant until a moment later, as Tar-Isgansar of Sem walked out from behind the curtain.