The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield-Chapter One-Hundred-Four: Reaching Ria’s Ruins – Part Five

***** Quella’s PoV *****

I couldn’t sleep, but nightmares weren’t the cause. Now that we had a real, genuine plan to make that awful bitch suffer for her horrible crimes… The disturbing dreams that kept me awake wouldn’t return because a flaming hope brightened those crevices.

No.

It was the situation we were in. I knew Tris was watching. She probably had tabs on everything within a few miles, so...

Why?

It was probably despite that. Lord Springfield had effortlessly humiliated the commander. Her actions could’ve been inferred as a declaration of war, so perhaps…

Perhaps it was the potential fighting keeping me awake? This world had turned me into something I thought I’d never become. In many ways, I was broken. Violence did little to shock me. Seeing Surtr tear that man’s arm made me almost happy since he came close to being an enemy.

Enemies deserved to die, didn’t they? In a world where the strong evolved while the weak remained stagnant…

That was this type of place. A soft simmer warmed my blood, almost anticipating the moment the Quella of yesteryear would’ve never wanted.

What can I do? It’s not like becoming this way hasn’t helped. I’d rather be used to killing if it meant protecting my friends, right?

I sighed, rolling to my left. Then my right. The uncomfortable bedding was lumpy and uneven, although I was in the minority. Elly and the others were already fast asleep. A regular workout wouldn’t tire them, but Lord Springfield’s gym spell let them test the new limits of their strengths as Soul Warriors. Even still-- like me-- they were ready to fight should it come to it.

That Imposter Remy had popped up after we returned to our tent and told us to follow Lord Springfield’s orders—that was a ‘direct command from the most beautiful Holy Lord in the world,’ after all.

So, for the most part, we had our ‘orders.’ My team still held reservations about this, yet what could they do? From their point of view, the brass’s commands were absolute. Meruria had spent so long engraving the rule of ‘my word is law’ that it ironically worked against her.

Whimsical lights suddenly appeared from nothing. Of course, she would have eyes on us as well.

Are you having trouble sleeping? Tilde, Surtr, and I are sitting around the campfire. Are you inclined to join us?

I debated for a few seconds before picking myself up. Slowly, I silently left my tent and felt a breeze assault my hair. The whimsical glow of my destination radiated a warm orange. The heat seemingly guided me as I followed it.

“Hey,” said Tilde, comfy in her wheelchair. A blanket had been laid over her lap. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes, but not for the reasons you think,” I replied, sitting beside Tris, who tented to a pot of boiling water suspended above the campfire. She was probably making tea or coffee—most likely the former. Caffeine this late would keep them awake.

“No nightmares?”

“No. They haven’t returned. I don’t think they will anytime soon. It’s…”

“Ah. Well, we are surrounded by people who want revenge on us. It’s makes sense.”

“It does. However, you shouldn’t let the gazes obstruct your sleep,” said Tris. “Believe me, I am watching their every move.”

“I know you are. It’s just… I can’t drop my guard. This world has taught me that I can’t take it easy. It’s not that I don’t trust you—I do. It’s—”

“Trust me? You say that, but your vitals tell a different story.”

“…”

“Don’t get me wrong, Quella. I’m not offended or upset. From what I know, your reactions are understandable for someone in your position. I’d have considered it unnatural if you accepted everything.”

“You trust me because I find it distrustful?” I asked.

“That’s an oxymoron in itself. Trust to get no trust. No trust to get trust. Yeah, life’s a complicated mistress like that. Take it from me. You’re too young to get hung up on that. Don’t try to deduce it because you'll think yourself into a stupor.”

“…”

“You’re logical, yeah? Always gotta find meaning in something. That’s why you’re so smart at math and science. Because you identify rules or methods and apply those to solve just about any problem. That’s rigid, Quella. Unfortunately, this world doesn’t always require rigidity to survive. There aren’t rules where there should be, and you’ll find rules when you shouldn’t. It’s not black and white. It’s grey all over. You aren’t the first Soul Warrior to go through this.”

“Have you been around many Soul Warriors?”

“Yeppers. I’ve been alive a long time, you know. At least ten thousand years. Maybe even more. The memories almost…blend into something I can’t decipher after a certain point, but I remember a few things here and there. There was this rancher, you see. They worked at a place called the Yellowstone Ranch. I think that’s in a place called Montana? At least, it was in his world.”

“That sounds like the United States,” I replied. “I don’t know if we had a Yellowstone Ranch, though.”

“Another was this woman with a big white hat. She always wore a heavy jacket and spoke with a heavy accent. Even after learning the language, it felt like bargaining with a bear,” Tilde said. “This prolly won’t make any sense, but you could grate a chunk of iron off her voice. Those two were used to killing. They took well to this world. Some others? There was a businessman or something with a briefcase. I tried to help, but he kicked the bucket after a nervous breakdown. Guess it was the loneliness, too. If I remember right, he was a single father to a daughter barely out of middle school. They weren’t rich, either. All the money he made went to alimony. So…with him being here…his kid was alone. Some people can’t be saved, Quella. Don’t know why I brought him up specifically. Sorry. Guess that dampened the mood, huh?”

As we talked, Tris finished preparing the tea. She added lemon juice, a cube of sugar, and a splash of milk. “Care for a cup?”

“Ah, thank you.” The mug warmed my palms… “There are all kinds of Soul Warriors. Some relish the chance to experience a new world because they had nothing. Others hate it because they had everything. I know only a fool expects to save everyone. I…can’t think like that anymore. Failure knows me too well. To keep those same naïve thoughts would mean opening my mind to another round of self-inflicted heartache. For my sake… For my selfish sake, I can’t do that.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Everyone went quiet for a few seconds as we sipped our drinks

“What’s with that look?” Tris was the first to speak.

“It’s nothing. I’m just remembering a scene from a book I read as a child.”

“Care to share with the class, Ms. Quella?” joked Tilde.

“It was a children’s book about a father and son reuniting in winter. The two were estranged. The dad was diagnosed with cancer, so he didn’t want to die without making amends with his child.”

“So… A book about inevitable death?” asked the fairy.

“Was the theme related to familial relationships?” inquired the personified void skill.

“Both. The father loved to hunt. The son did, too. The son was entering his rebellious period during the last trip before the estrangement. The book never goes into the argument, so readers can only theorize what happened. It ended with those two not speaking with each other for two decades. The son married, had a child, and lived his own life.”

“Please continue. I wish to learn the ending.”

Tris is strangely into it. Why?

“The son didn’t want to go until his wife convinced him. He packed his things, got in his car, and drove all night to a lodge the father had built. It was winter, but it wasn’t dangerous. The snow was described as a ‘blanket of false deceit wrapped around a hollow sense of guilty uneasiness.’”

“Talk about purple prose.” Tilde rolled her eyes. “Anyway, ignore my nit-picking. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“The son arrived without issue. He found his father cleaning his gun. However… No one spoke. Neither the father nor the son said a word for the next four chapters. The author was amazing at conveying emotion through landmark details. And yes, one common criticism was the excessive purple prose. I like that, though. It means a longer book for me to lose myself in.”

“Mmnn… I guess you’re not wrong,” Tilde said, sipping her tea through a straw. Surtr cleaned his paws as he listened.

“The first dialogue between the two happened when they couldn’t sleep. They gathered around a campfire—just like this. Tea was brewing… The breeze was blowing… The story had snow—we don’t. That’s the missing piece. Anyway, the father revealed his cancer diagnosis. He wouldn’t survive the new year. The son was distraught. Then anger consumed him. He demanded to know why this wasn’t brought up earlier, and the father said he was scared. He had known about his impending death for a decade.”

“Why fear? Is it related to the unknown conflict?”

“Possibly. That’s up for the readers to infer,” I answered Tris’s question. “It’s why I like it so much. We don’t know what happened to drive them apart. Or why the father was scared. It’s like a fill-in-the-blank book. How much we relate to the story depends on our life. An estranged relationship isn’t rare.”

“What do you think, Tris?”

“I believe someone cynical could interpret it as revenge.”

“Oh?” I was surprised. “Revenge?”

“Yes. I don’t believe that’s the case, but the argument caused the two to grow apart. We don’t know what it was. The father could’ve started it. Perhaps it was the son being upset over something juvenile. If it was the latter, then the fault lies with him. The father could’ve felt hurt. We don’t know if he’s a saint. He could have been someone mean or awful. Maybe he was a good man before this, and the argument marked a spiraling depression. Unfettered disgust could’ve built up, which corrupted his morals. So, when the cancer diagnosis came in, the father kept quiet until it was too late. He organized the hunting trip to tell the son because he knew it would hurt him. Therefore, the story could be about revenge.”

“That’s…one interpretation. I can’t recall seeing someone explain it like that. I think it’s about regret and making amends. Life could’ve changed for the two if they had talked it out. The son was either too stubborn or proud. The same can be said for the father. The story ends with the son waking up to find his father dead. We don’t know if he passed with a smile or frown. Or if he was in pain or not. It’s a jarring ending that happens too suddenly. Most reviews say it was too morbid to be a children’s story.”

“How does this remind you of our current situation?” asked Tilde.

“The tea. The breeze. That’s it. It’s not a strong remembrance. I’m not sure why my mind even went to it.”

“The mind is like that. It’s not easily understood. Heck, even your advanced society probably hasn’t mapped it out. There’s still the whole relationship between the mind, consciousness, and soul, yeah? You only have theories, but it’s not something you can define like the human genome. Good luck building a structural database for it.”

“…” I stayed quiet.

“I think the author took the easy way out,” continued Tilde. “Too many missing details means the story can be about whatever you want. It means there’s no commonly accepted interpretation. They made a story for everyone and created something for no one. Then again… That’s not the worst thing if that’s the author’s true intentions. Doesn’t mean I agree with it, but I can respect it.”

“Who do you relate with more?” asked Tris. She poured another cup of tea, adding two sugar cubes this time. “The father, who kept quiet? Or the son who didn’t try to contact his father during the estrangement?”

“…”

“Let me rephrase that. You’re thinking about the one called Shuuta, aren’t you? That’s why you mentioned this story.”

“!!!” My eyes went wide…but I couldn’t deny it.

“Shuuta, huh? I see it now. The regret and making amends make sense now.”

“Is it…still wrong for him to occupy my thoughts? We were barely more than strangers. Anyone else should’ve—would’ve— moved on. But I can't. Not when there’s still the tiniest spec of hope.”

“Hope you wouldn’t have gotten if not for my Master?”

I nodded.

“If she did it… Maybe he can… Maybe I still have time to apologize. I need one minute. Thirty seconds, even, to say I’m sorry for failing him.”

My sight turned blurry. Salty tears tainted my drink. I wiped my eyes and silently cleared my throat.

“Time magic exists. Maybe…” My voice trailed off when the realization hit me.

“Time in the void flows differently than it does here. An hour could be a second. A second could turn into a century. Oh, we can speak freely about the void. I’ve set precautions to ensure we won’t be overheard.”

“Hey, Tris?” I called her name.

“Yes?”

"Do you think there’s a void equivalent of time magic? Teleportation magic exists, but Remy used the void to warp all over. I don’t understand the differences, but it seems like the void version is better in every way. So…”

“I mean, there could be,” answered Tilde. “I have some connection to the place, although I can’t remember why. I know my purpose was to initialize [Hermes Trismegistus] for whoever received it. I wish I had something like a master list of void skills. If anyone would have it, it’d be that bitch we want dead.”

“Remy’s memories didn’t mention anything like that,” sighed Tris.

The group went quiet. I stared at the flames and imagined an alternate timeline. One where nothing had gone wrong… One where someone like Lord Enele had summoned us… He was a just man-- honorable and kind and understood the plight of an otherworlder who felt like a stranger in a strange land.

“Let us get back to a previous topic,” said Tris, changing the subject. “Don’t force yourself to trust us because we have the same goal.”

“…”

“Eh, maybe we can drop that topic. Tris, didn’t you have something to ask?”

“Ask me?” I inquired.

“I did. Quella, you originate from a world that eclipses the academic discoveries of this reality. Physics, chemistry, mathematics… I wish to learn it all.”

“Are you asking me to teach you?”

“I am. Is there a problem?” Tris asked with a tilt of her head.

“No. Not really. It’s just you said you’re like a quantum computer. You’re an AI, too.”

“You’re correct on both accounts, but I was not born into this world knowing what I know. My current knowledge is the cumulative result of many different factors. Murag’s tomes helped plenty. Tilde’s nightly tutoring created my core understanding. My lord provided an emotional basis. However…”

“Academically, you’re not so much lacking as unhappy with your current circumstances?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said with a soft smile. “I enjoy learning because I use the knowledge to enrich the lives of the ones I love. I want to protect them the only way I can, Quella.” Tris further explained that her normal body could not fight. It wasn’t a curse—more like a limitation. “I’m essentially stuck at Lv. 1. My only skills come from [Hermes Trismegistus] and its evolutions. I cannot throw a ball of fire. Nor can I use wind magic to eviscerate my enemies. I can, however, be my lord’s tactical commander over the battlefield. Acquiring knowledge—no matter its insignificance— will benefit me. There are no downsides to broadening my horizon.”

“So, what do you say?” Tilde finished her drink, yawning with a satisfied smile. “Care to teach an AI a trick or two? We’re not asking anything for nothing, you know. You have some powerful allies, so… A favor for a favor? Scratch our backs, we’ll scratch yours?”

“Well… There’s one thing…” One scenario popped into my mind. It had almost passed me because nothing bad had come of it, but this was the best time to get an answer.

“Meruria used [Conferment] on Mary?” asked Tilde. She looked at Tris.

"I saw that memory. It occurred shortly after Meruria unlocked it for the world. I wish I could help, but Remy couldn’t decipher it. Meruria also never told her what she did.”

“You couldn’t understand it?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve scanned Mary a thousand times. Each one returns results within the standard parameters for a woman of her status. Her advanced aging must’ve been cured by becoming a Soul Warrior because it’s not there. I see no evidence of it.”

“Then should I be worried?”

Tilde lightly bit her lips. “It’s a bad idea to be complacent around Meruria. Don’t think of anything the bitch does as being in the ‘status quo’ because it’s not. She’s about as irregular and heartless as someone could get.”

“I will keep investigating.” Tris said the likely answer was a more advanced [Conferment] than what her lord could wield. “I’m confident I can solve it. However, as I said, even the smallest nugget of knowledge could induce the epiphany I desire. So, I ask you, Quella. Please teach me what you know. Anything and everything will be fine!” Tris was emphatic in her request. Those eyes… They were hungry for learning.

“Okay. It’s the least I can do. Can you give me some time to think of a lesson plan?”

I can probably get Mary to help me. If she still wants to be a teacher, that is.

“Thank you!” Tris’s excitement was short-lived as a curious inquisitiveness replaced her expression.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” I said, extinguishing their unneeded worries. “I’m thinking about this. I’m hoping this tutoring can transform into genuine trust. Believe me, you guys are the closest thing to true allies. Every molecule in my body begs me to relax—that we don’t have to be on guard. But, you know, when you live on the edge for so long… It becomes something like home.”

“Getting away from it is scary? It makes your stomach knot up?” asked Tilde.

“Yes.”

“That’s not all, is there? You haven’t fully accepted Sekh.”

“…”

“Your silence is all we need. Take it from Little Miss Lioness snoozing away near her beloved. You guys don’t have to be friends. Hell, you can hate her, and guess what? She won’t blame you an ounce as long as we work to kill the Holy Lord of Bitchness. A friendship born of mutual hatred can often be sturdier than bonds crafted via other means. Spite is a power motivator, you know.”

“Tilde…”

“Maybe a real bond can form later. Maybe it won’t. Honestly…” Tilde looked past me to the tent with Melusine and Mary. “Maybe you’ll have to choose one day. Sekh or Melusine. Lion or fairy. Dark Lord or queen. Honestly? I’ll probably slap you silly if you trash Melly’s friendship.”

Her bluntness caught me off guard as I nearly choked on my tea.

“Didn’t expect that, did ya? Haha. I say it as I see it. She’s a good woman. She really is. She’s kind and just, too.” Tilde’s eyes probably saw a scene of the past. She was Melusine’s advisor a thousand years ago—before…that happened.

“Do you think—”

“Impossible things are only impossible until they aren’t.” Tilde cut me off. “You thought you’d never have a way to kill that bitch, but you do. You’ve met a survivor of the mysterious, unsurvivable void. The bitch’s most loyal soldier is now a puppet to someone she tossed away like garbage. However… I really don’t think those two can let bygones be bygones. Curse or not—Melly suffered so much. Time can help, but it isn’t the end-all-be-all to all of life’s maladies. Some things can’t be forgiven. It’s up to the person in question to draw the line.”

“I’ve surmised Melusine’s instinctually figured it out. However, she can't accept the impossible truth her body is trying to tell her. She’s…conflicted, I’d say. If her vitals are anything to go by. You’ve seen her eyes. Those aren’t the eyes of a well-rested woman.”

“I lost my nightmares while she gained them?” I asked.

“Prolly. It hurts me to say this, but we can’t do much. I tried by telling the you-know-who was someone else, yet…” Tilde sighed. “I guess memory tampering is one solution. Once my Master assimilates Meruria, she can make it so Melly never knew she had a kingdom. Rewrite her past, you know? Okay, maybe that’s a little drastic. We prolly don’t have to go that far, but I don’t see any other realistic solution.”

Between a rock and a hard place, huh? We have to worry about Sera, too. That has to be kept secret.

“You’re thinking about Seraphina.”

“Right again,” I replied to Tris.

“Ah, yeah… That’s a rough one. Honestly, it’s like tiptoeing around a minefield. I still can’t believe that eagle asked Sekh to look after his darling princess.”

“Lord Aetos did that?”

“Yeppers. Talk about cruel irony, am I right? Little Miss Second Princess is…very vulnerable, I guess I’d say. Not in a naïve way, mind you. She’s the type to value family, so since my Master holds the Vredi name… She has influence over one of the most powerful people in the world. That’s not even accounting for her recollected projections of Susize and the others.”

“The most powerful Soul Warrior of her time?”

“Of all time, Quella. Susize was… Gods, I still remember the reports of their clash with Sekh. I’m talking about craters miles wild. They say the damage was so severe nothing would ever grow again. The Ashlands? Yeah, that can be traced to her. It’s a wasteland in the most genuine sense. Five Soul Warriors stood against Sekh. She won most of their fights, actually. Her losses weren’t losses. Her mace might be a Divine Armament, but it’s in a class of its own.”

Divine Armament… That’s a tier above a Lord Armament.

“I’ll say this—we find that mace, and Meruria would’ve died yesterday. Nelly and Sera pose the greatest ‘threat’ if we’re talking about a full-on, no-holds-barred battle, but you know who I put my gold on.”

“I keep hearing these stories about her. I know it’s the curse, but… The Sekh I see is…”

“She’s a lovestruck dummy—an adorable dork when she’s drunk off her ass. She’s just a woman who wants to experience life. She didn’t ask the curse to uproot everything. Ugh, that damn thing pisses me off.” Tilde groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Would… Would they accept my assistance?”

“You’d help break it?” inquired Tris.

“I would. If not to repay for helping with Meruria, then to ensure the Dark Lord of Tyranny never returns as the world’s nightmare.”

“A noble goal, Quella the Mage. Tris?”

“I have no qualms. Surtr?”

“Neither do I,” growled the lion.

“Eh? Just like that? What about asking Lord Springfield? Or Sekh?”

“Uhh… Because there’s no need? Master and I used to share a life, so I know how she’d respond. Surtr is a physical manifestation of Sekh’s surplus mana, so he knows what she would say.”

“My lord has given me authority to speak on her behalf,” said Tris. “She values my advice. She knows I would not agree to anything that would harm us in the long run. Your assistance is welcomed."

“Guess that settles it. Let’s have a toast! Ah—a little help? My arm’s too heavy.”

The scene was too… light-hearted. All this heavy talk about curses, death, lying to someone powerful…to end it with a joke and chuckle?

Clank!

Our glasses gently clanked in the silent atmosphere as we drank our delicious tea. The lack of sound was…calming. Sometimes... All you needed was the absence of something else to appreciate what you had in life.

“These kind of nights can be fun. Tris, Niva, Primmy, and I had some girl talk back in the village. Maybe you, Yewie, and Sekh can join the next one? Maybe to see if a bond will be forged between you two? No pressure or anything. Oh! We can be the Curse Removal Team! Yeah, that can be the name of our little group. I can see Sekh rolling her eyes in annoyance, but you know she’ll love it.”

“Speaking of Yew… How is she?”

“Asleep between Sekh and Master,” said Tilde.

“She took the first step to master her chimerism,” added Tris. “She did so with a smile.”

“Little Yewie better not have jumped right into the deep end.”

“She didn’t, Tilde. Rest assured, she’s taking it a step at a time.”

“That’s good.” Tilde smiled. “She's just a kid, man. There’s no need to rush into anything when she has more than just her life ahead of her. The worst thing you can do is focus so much on growing that you’re left stumbling alone with nothing to show.”

There was another moment of silence.

“Why don’t we call it here?” asked Tilde after I yawned.

“That sounds good.” I stood, stretching my arms skyward. “Thanks, you two. For talking with me, I mean.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for telling us about that story. They say you can find meaning in anything. Even the most inconspicuous object, tale, or whatever can impart important lessons. Maybe we can learn something—it’s just that the lesson might not be immediately visible. I’ll put on the ole thinking cap before I fall asleep.”

“Likewise, I shall do the same. Sleep well, Quella.” Tris’s smile was always so perfect and pristine. The two saw me off with a wave as I returned to my tent. The fogginess I felt…

It was still there, but the unnavigable haze had thinned considerably.

Maybe… Maybe they’re right. Maybe trust can only grow from distrust.

I collapsed to my bedding and quietly sighed.

Can someone like Melusine ever trust Sekh? Or Sera? Must the secret remain one until the end of time? If [Conferment] adds a rule to the world, then… Could it make it so that the Dark Lord of Tyranny never existed? Not kill her. But vanish all knowledge of her. Everything associated with her can be gone, leaving Sekh to be Sekh. Lord Springfield, Tris, and the others wouldn’t forget. They can make exceptions. How much life force will that take? I don’t even want to fathom it.