Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 64 - Introspection VII
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 22:31:19 +0000 UTCThe next chapter will likely also be delayed, and the last Introspection Chapter.
The graveyard dissolved, and in its place appeared once again my shop floor amalgamated with a ship. It was much the same as I had left it. With one annoying exception.
“Hail the conquering heroine!” The Thief-Queen yelled, saluting me with a tankard of something that must be more sulfur than mead. The stench alone could probably kill an ogre. “Kneel in awe of her powers of not stabbing things! And her new animal companion! Seriously, you couldn’t manage anything better than a butterfly?”
I sighed, then turned to the other three, crossing my arms while said butterfly flew right at the Thief-Queen’s eye, making her recoil back. “You let her go.”
“She bit my tail,” the Arcanist protested, gesturing to a perfectly fine tail, fins fully unfurled, waving an azure and black hello before going back underneath the table. “I’m not going to spend the next several hours with this brat eternally gnawing on my tail.”
“Hey, hey,” the Thief-Queen said sarcastically. “Remember, I’m drawn from our host’s head, so keep in mind who you are calling a brat.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “You are a brat. One who is quickly wearing on at least my patience, so are you going to actually be helpful or just needle everyone around you?”
“I don’t know, are you finally going to take one of those two up in the living world out for a fuck, or are you going to keep burying your feelings down?”
Complete silence now, as the other three stared at her in appalled embarrassment. I met her gaze and merely smiled.
Turning my attention to the Noble, I spoke with as much sincerity as I could fit into my words, “I think you’re now no longer my least favorite of everyone here.”
That shook her out of her shock at what the Thief-Queen had said. “I should be far from the bottom, but I suppose it should be appreciated.”
“It should be,” I said, my tail wagging as I turned my attention back to the Thief-Queen. “Least favorite gets a recommendation from me to Tagashin that their sentient fey form be a river spirit in the Nover.”
The Thief-Queen’s expression fell. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would,” I said in a sing-song tone, fins extending as I leaned against the table. “Remember where you get your bratty attitude from?”
“It might be a bit too far,” the Arcanist said. “That thing you call a river hasn’t been majority water by weight for decades now. You do not want to know what those other things are.”
I did in the depths of my mind, but I appreciated them not being dredged up.
“Truly an absolutely horrendous fate,” the Xang said clinically. “No one deserves such a thing to happen to them. Then again, there always tends to be one exception to the rule, isn’t there?”
“Oi,” the Thief-Queen said, scrunching closer together as her eyes darted between us. “We’re all here to help you, just in different ways, and we’re just playing out roles your head assigned us, now-”
“She’s lying,” the Noble said. “Even mindless, we gravitated towards roles we liked, so this is partially on her for unconsciously choos-”
“I will slice your head off with a potato peeler!”
I smirked as the Thief-Queen came a little unglued. Okay, perhaps hypocritical of me, but in all honesty, after having a bunch of knives twisted in me recently it was…refreshing having someone else take a few.
Okay, probably not a good thought to have, but what could I say? I was a work-in-progress, and sometimes you could only take so much of the devil out of the girl. Besides, it was good to get my mind off of what had just happened, even just a little. As…important as that had been, to call it grim would be an understatement.
“Okay, enough kidding with her,” I said.
“Who is kidding?” The Noble asked. “While the other two are somewhat tolerable, this one should be tossed out into the gutter. Honestly, the most fitting place with her.”
“And you’re back to being least-favorite,” I said, getting a scoff out of the noblewoman. “But yeah, even if Tagashin is willing to accept my suggestions, I won’t hold what happens in here against you.”
The Thief-Queen visibly relaxed.
“Much.”
A groan, and a thrown tankard that vanished before it actually spilled its contents across the floor.
“Can dish it but can’t take it out, can she?” I observed. “What, does a little prodding make you collapse like a house of cards, Thief?”
The other three looked at me serenely as one, and I frowned. The butterfly settled on my shoulder, also appearing to be looking at me. What? Oh.
“I do not collapse that easily,” I said flatly, finally choosing to take a seat. While it had felt good to stretch using the table, and honestly, extending my fins to catch the wind felt strangely pleasing, giving my hooves a rest had its own benefits.
“No,” the Xang agreed. “Against most things, you don’t seem to have any issue with that. Maybe that’s why you thrive and seek out chaos so much.”
“I do not seek out chaos!” I protested.
“Says the alchemist who decided to carve up a drake’s brain in their grave,” The Thief Queen said. “Or hells, let's add not leaving the city in the first place. You knew St. Lanian’s reputation. Money-grubbing assholes that they might be, they wouldn’t be willing to give the Xang’s sole custody if it meant risking the deposit you put down. Also, next time, think of yourself some? If you’re going to rob Versalicci’s personal stash, at least save some of the money for yourself?”
“I was worried about the Xangs,” I said. “Perhaps a bit unnecessarily, but still, they were a concern to me. And even accepting that things need to be resolved….Aunt Diwei is still-”
“-a cold-hearted harridan who wants both you and mother dead,” the Xang finished for me. “But her influence has limits as long as grandfather lives. She could not simply decide to try and end the agreement with you.”
“Even if she did, do you think she could just up and steal your mother away?” the Noble added. “Again, St. Lanian’s has a reputation as a money-grubbing institute that lost sight of its original purpose of serving the poor without compensation. It did not gain one for selling out its patients to the highest bidder, which would lose it that high-class clientele it prides itself on having. You could have let Tolman act as your representative, much like you pretended to be yourself as Katheryn Falara, and it would have been fine. But no, instead you stayed in the city and got involved in illegal alchemy.”
“I needed money!” I protested. “It’s one of the better ways while remaining at least somewhat lowkey!”
“Then you decided to join a Delver’s Guild and fight monsters underground,” The Arcanist noted.
“It was an easy way to scavenge ingredients!”
“How about that time you convinced yourself that books for entertainment was a waste of money,” the Thief-Queen started and my cheeks immediately flushed. “So you spent an entire week planning and then robbing some fancy bookstore’s warehouse of three crates, one of which got you labeled the ‘Pilferer of-“
“You know damn well I didn’t know what was in that last crate!” I exclaimed. “If I had, I definitely would not have taken it!”
“Yeah, sure. Then why did you never bother to return those books?”
“Some of them were banned titles,” I said quickly. “I did not want to get the owners of the store in trouble.”
“No, you just wanted to rob them,” the Thief-Queen said drily. “What a kind and considerate pilferer of-“
My tail wrapped around her neck, cutting her off. She flailed around, pretending to be dying, but I kept a firm grip.
“Anyone want to get involved in this?” I asked the other three, who all shook their heads.
“She does raise a point,” the Arcanist said, then held her hands up placatingly. “You do tend to get woooouuuunnnndddd-
Everything slowed, stilling, even the waves outside, as the four fey spirits halted as well. I got up from the chair, turning around, trying to catch sight of anything in motion.
The butterfly could still move, launching off my shoulder and hovering in front of me, almost like a protective charm, glowing a pale luminescent purple.
“Tagashin?” I asked cautiously, moving to check the Thief-queen for any kind of weapon I could borrow. Nothing. Shite.
The floor suddenly cracked, a split forming along the wood. I hurried onto the tabletop as it reached the window, opening up to the sea and letting water rush inside. I wasn’t going to be testing out these fins inside my own head.
The four fey were still frozen, and then suddenly vanished as the water reached them, spilling in from the windows and welling up from the cracks formed in the floor. Not normal water either, not even like the polluted mush that made up the Nover. Inky black, uninviting, and looking more like oil than actual water, it spread and swallowed as much of the shop as it could.
The spreading cracks reached the walls, and I muttered a curse as they spread across the wall in a pattern resembling a face. An angular, horned, sneering, almost child-like face stared down as those cracks began to form into lines. I knew who this was.
“Imp,” I said, staring as cracks formed from its emerging visage, wood tearing as it pressed against the surface. Shelves shuddered, then seemed to slump as if they’d let out a breath. It’s new arms and hands, in this space. “I was told it was going to be a while before you made your way in here.”
Daughter of my master, it responded, the wood of the wall creaking as it moved. That arrogant fluffball might have thought of dragging your consciousness to this abominable place as proof against me or your heritage, but it overestimates itself. Greatly.
“Abominable?” I asked, forcing a casual tone even as floorboards wriggled and shifted under the rising waters. “This is a replica of my shop, so perhaps no insults against my sense of decor.”
Walls, shelves, stairs, everything was moving now, tearing, ripping and rejoining as that face of wood pressed away from the wall, now forming into a sculpture that stared down through jagged, blackened eyes of charred wood.
Outside here, although your sense of decor is altogether too plain for one of the master’s children. No, I refer to the feyrealms out here, which have been assaulting me with feelings of tranquility and little fey things disguised as woodland creatures trying to assault me with music and hugs, The Imp said, shuddering and sending flakes of wood everywhere. One would think sufficient hellfire would get the message across that I do not wish to be hugged, but the fey always possess no respect for boundaries, an intense need to needle, and not nearly enough meat on the bone to be worth the effort.
“I weep for your suffering,” I said sarcastically, while looking around. The window had been fully torn apart now, and I spared a glance at the sun. It hung in the sky, but this time, no Kitsune winked at me through it.
I weep for you, having to put up with this, The Imp said. What insanity has that meddler been forcing you through?
“Trying to help me make sure the decision I made was kept final,” I said, moving carefully to the center of the countertop. Water lapped at the edges, but for now didn’t spread onto the surface. And the Imp had not taken control of this one. Yet.
Ah, so she intends to stop your ascension?
It was strange, actually seeing the Imp’s…head? Facsimile of one? Strange to see it move, but still heard the voice inside my mind as I had before.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” I said, crossing my arms. “I believe I was pretty clear on my opinion regarding that before passing out.”
What one says and does will not always reflect what they want, The Imp said, pushing forward further out of the wall, limbs emerging as well. But also, there is no calling on that amount of diabolism without there being consequences. And not when you nearly absorb the essence of another devil. Good showing on that by the way. That’ll teach that rotund insect to worship a sin revolving around not doing anything.
“Thank you,” I said. “Your opinion is that it is inevitable?”
Either you accept it, and ascend on your own terms, or it ravages your mind into muck and creates something new out of the leftover pieces, The Imp said, sounding gleeful. Ascension is inevitable.
Sure, it was.
“Part of our contract is doing what’s best for me, within certain limits,” I told the Imp. “I’m assuming that forcing me to ‘ascend’ is one of those limits?”
The Imp seemed genuinely puzzled. Why would letting you grow in power and embrace your heritage not be something in your best interests, child?
Well, that's where I had expected it would go. And probable confirmation of my suspicions of its training being connected to certain changes.
“Even if I were to accept it, I would be stuck in the middle of Intelligence agents and others who would hardly be willing to let a devil run loose in Avernon,” I said, eyeing another nearby shelf. It hadn’t been one of the ones to suddenly move slowly along with the Imp, but it could just as easily be a trap. “It would be a pity to know this bliss you talk of only to eat a holy bullet in my brainpan. One might think that this is just your way to ensure your freedom from my head before I do end up dead.”
The first things you lean towards in terms of protest are logistical over anything else, The Imp noted, wooden face twisting into a truly horrifying smile, complete with sharp, splinter-festooned teeth. And if all of those were solved? Your fear of betrayal from me and a way to get to the Hells?
“Not very possible,” I said, walking quickly along the countertop, water chasing me all the way. “The moment I-”
The moment you change, they will be caught off-guard, but if you think no one there will give you grace after your initial rejection, you overestimate their intelligence. They will, and while I would say seal their dooms in that moment, once you ascend, creating a portal to the lower realms should be simple enough.
“And once there, I get torn apart by a stronger devil, and what will you care because our contract will be over and you will be free,” I said to the Imp. “Sell me on why I shouldn’t expect betrayal from you, Imp?”
The Imp scowled. Do I look like an idiot, girl? Don’t insult me by attributing the same lack of sense you have to me. I serve your parent, and they will hardly be pleased by me getting one of their spawn killed.
“Can’t imagine they’re too pleased by what I’ve been doing,” I pointed out.
More cracks and creaks as the Imp rolled its wooden eyes. Others of your siblings have rebelled against his wishes in the past, and not a one has ended up being disloyal once they made it to the Hells themselves. Some allowances are made.
I very much doubted the allowances part, or the lack of anyone who disobeyed my father, but I kept those thoughts restrained. Best to see what the Imp had to say first. Hells, maybe some kind of agreement could be come to.
“Open a portal to the Hells,” I mused. “It could be done quickly?”
Yes, once you tear apart that ball of fluff that shoved your mind into this place.
“You want me to rip apart Tagashin before going to the Hells?” I asked. “Seems a good way to end my life as a devil before it even began.”
Yes, I would have you rip apart that simpering, playful bundle of magic that refuses to embrace its potential. And I know you want to.
“I’d hardly say I’d want her throat ripped out,” I mused. “Maybe a little-”
Don’t lie to me like you do to yourself. Or has a single moment of kindness suddenly won you over after what she did? You restrained yourself in your revenge, but you’ve wanted to tear her throat out, and only your notions of restraint have held you back as you envy how, despite even with more chains on than you, she seems much freer than you have ever been. Do you wish to deny that?
I…no. No, I wouldn’t deny that.
Strip away your falsehoods now that it is only you and I. Your only protests of this are merely out of concerns of how to do this, not why, and for people you have no reason to trust. Have given you no reason to trust, nothing but betrayals as they use you to do their bidding in their own goals, how you envy their freedom, and how lacking in problems they seem to be?
There was silence as the Imp’s face settled and I chewed on its words.
“You are probably right,” I told the Imp, and the visage formed out of my wall seemed to soften slightly. “Trusting them, a fool’s mistake at this juncture.”
Then you will accept it, then? Not that another choice really exists, with what is to come.
Let it think that. Good odds that was nothing more than how the Imp wanted things defined. How I like to keep things defined. Black or white, friend or foe, transactional or kept away, once I feared a dagger. Two choices? Far from it.
“One problem with what is to come,” I said, keeping the pretense up for now. Despite its claimed mastery over my mind, it clearly did not have any real clues about what I was thinking. “There will be others who would have made it to my shop by now, and I want contingencies for each of them.”
The Imp sighed, but it wasn’t a resigned one. Just one of accepting a bit of tedium, because what else could be expected? Paranoid Malvia wanting to try and account for every little thing that could go wrong, before something did and it devolved further and further.
I half-paid attention as it began laying out options for anyone who might show up from either Voltar to Versalicci to that drake that probably still wanted me for cutting up his dead sister.
How to get out of this? Clearly there had to be some way. Entirely possible that there wasn’t, and my only other fate was being some mindless devil reforged out of the remnants of my torn-apart soul. I couldn’t just accept that, though.
What was left? The fey spirits were gone. I had nothing on me to fight with but tooth and claw, which would not do much against pine and jagged spears of sharpened oak. The butterfly…I frowned. Where had it gone?
It had hovered in front of me before the Imp’s arrival, but had vanished since. Had it gone away as well? I looked around, only to pause when I looked down. Down into the oily, inky depths.
A glimmer of color down in those depths, the same as the butterfly’s wings.
Oh. If I had mastery of what my opponent could see while trying to manipulate them, what would be one of the things I would do? Especially if even while trying to convince them, knowing that they distrusted me?
I’d make the way to salvation look like the source of their doom.
Entirely possible I was wrong. But would it be any worse than struggling up here?
“You made an excellent point earlier,” I told the Imp as the conversation wound down to its natural conclusion. “None of them have provided good reasons for me to trust them, have they?”
Yes, The Imp said, nodding sagely, wooden abomination looming over me. It has taken a while for you to learn that lesson, but I am glad you finally have.
Not so glad that it hadn’t been positioning wood around while it thought I hadn’t noticed. It had flexed arms and hands made out of flooring and shelves. Those had suddenly disappeared into the roiling walls, pulled back to the edges of the splits, letting water rush in. Ready to strike if I changed my mind and ran up the stairs.
Another sign it’s control wasn’t absolute, or it could just grab me the moment my hooves touched wood.
“There’s just one thing to add to it,” I said. “Something to maybe consider if I ever come back to Anglea.”
Hrrm?
Spin around to answer the question, pretend to catch my hoof on the edge of the countertop, and down I went, already shucking my coat. Moments were all I had before I hit the water, but it was enough to mouth the answer.
I have even fewer reasons to trust you.
Right into inky wet blackness, cold but not-cold at the same time. I could feel it, as I finished ripping my coat off and dove, that the water was cold, but it just didn’t bother me in the same way.
I could still see the butterfly, down in these depths, through the rents the Imp had torn in this ship. I glided, slicing through the water, cutting through it. Wood shuddered, forming limbs that tried to grasp, but I sped past them, ice forming in my wake. That blocked them, stymied them, as I dove even deeper.
Comments
Baumlaus
Very nice Very hype-trainstation-esque... 😭 tyfc, pls more x)
