32.1A-1: 《Prince》 In Need Of [Des/Re]pair

Olivier Chance sat at the round table surrounded by the five people he had grown to consider family over the past year and half. At the center of the table were large platters of food. Steaks, salads, pastas, and everything in-between.  Werner was working on fairly distributing the food between the plates as Cadence spun yarn about a time she’d swindled a businessman out of a train ticket with a paperclip and pen. Jericho listened on intrigued while Maria laughed wildly amused. Atienna watched them all with a mild smile. Her gaze softened when they locked eyes.

“What are you reading?”

Olive turned.

Lavi was sitting beside him, pointing to the book in his lap.

Olive looked down. The pages read—

Where have they gone? Where have they gone? Where have they gone? Where have they gone? 

Olive tensed, looked up, froze. 

The other five were still sitting around the table in front of him, but something was off. Jericho was the one distributing the food. Werner was excitedly chattering about some sort of late night party he’d been at the previous night, while Cadence chastised him between sips of tea. Maria observed everything with a calm and cheerful demeanor. And Atienna did as she did before, watching them all with a mild smile.

“What are you reading?”

Lavi asked again.

Olive looked down again. The pages read—

They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone. 

Olive shot up from his seat, sending the book to the ground. Everyone at the table turned to stare at him. Staring at him with that same pity that all the royal officials in Aries did.

“Ollie?” Lavi asked beside him. She tugged at his arm.

He turned to her. “Something’s not right—”

But Lavi was gone. So were the others. So was the table they had been feasting at. Olive stood alone in the dark. 

“You’re right.”

Olive whipped around and found Jericho, stiffly adorned in his crisp monochrome suit, standing behind him. Olive felt relief before he registered the way Jericho was looking at him. It was the same way Jericho had stared down Omega,  Tau,  Theta,  Alpha.

“It is wrong,” Jericho confirmed, pointing at Olive’s chest—at the flower Olive did not even realize he was holding.

It was a seven petal flower with an unnaturally green hue. 

“Let’s not jump the gun here, detective”—Cadence popped in from nowhere, stepping in-between them— “Ya know it ain’t his fault. No need ta throttle him.”

“I know.” Jericho lowered his finger and dropped his hand before the creases smoothed out from his face. He paused as if realizing something and stared at Olive rather seriously, earnestly. “I would never hurt you, Olive.”

“I know,” Olive found himself saying.

“But.” Jericho’s gaze became vacant yet piercing as he stared through Olive. “You can not be Olive. Olivier is ☒☒☒☒. He can’t return. It isn’t the same.”

☒☒☒☒…?

Cadence glanced back at Olive, looked away briefly with barely the faintest hint of a grimace that melded into a smile, and then patted Olive on the back and Jericho on the shoulder. “Look, detective, I know all of this is a lot ta take in—especially with everything ya’ve been through. Completely understandable.” She paused. “But would it be so bad to take a second ta appreciate a small miracle or two?”

“This isn’t some small miracle. I agree with the peacekeeper,” came a voice from behind him. It was Gilbert, arms crossed, leaning against something Olive couldn’t see. “What makes you think this won’t happen again?”

“Y’make it sound like that’s a bad thing.” Carl appeared beside Gilbert. “Seems like a pretty good deal to me. If you ☒☒☒☒ the ☒☒☒☒☒☒ here, there’s not sweatin’ it. We’ve got a friend who can just haul you back.”

Gilbert frowned. “Are you sure about that?”

“Sure about what?”

“I’m asking what the peacekeeper’s been getting at this entire time.” Gilbert stared at and then through Olive. “First: are you sure that whoever—whatever—is standing there is the real thing? Second: you’ve all seen the things ☒☒☒’☒ been… ☒☒☒☒☒☒☒. You’re going to sit here and tell me that doing that is normal? Third: when does this end? When all of us get into ‘accidents’ and ☒☒☒ and ☒☒☒☒ ☒☒☒☒? Will we even be able to get back when that happens to us?”

“No offense, Leutnant,” came a familiar voice to Olive’s left, “but I don’t think it’s that complicated.” Derik stood there, looking him up and down. 

“And when did you become so opinionated, Derik?” Gilbert arched a brow. “I’m an oberleutnant now, by the way. Doesn’t mean a damned thing but since you’re annoying me, I want you to get that straight.”

“Why is there this doubt?” rang another familiar voice as a shadow passed over his face. The gaze that fell on him, however, was warm. Maria. She stood in front of him now, lifting his chin with her thumb. She hummed then smiled.  “Hm… Yes.”

“‘Yes’, what?” Derik pressed.

Maria pulled away. “Yes, this is dear Olive.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “There is no one else he can be, no?”

“And how do you know that?” Gilbert pressed. “We saw his ☒☒☒☒.”

Maria glanced down to her right where Lita stood. The girl nodded. Maria said—“Feeling, yes?”

“You can’t just go off of ‘feeling,’” Gilbert rebutted. 

The words spilled out of Olive’s mouth—“I’m standing right here, you know…”

Gilbert glanced at him. “Sorry, prince, but this is something we need to talk about.”

“No, I understand what you’re saying…” —Olive found the words spilling out from his mouth again without his control— “But I’m the one experiencing it so I should have a say, shouldn’t I?”

There was a pause.

“How… how do you feel?” came a quiet question. “Do you think it’s like what happened to…?”

Eunji stood a bit away, gaze tentatively flicking between him and a shadowy figure standing to his left. The figure’s shape was smudged, their features blurry even when Olive squinted hard.

Olive found himself staring at his hand. “I feel… like myself,’ but when I think about everything you’ve told me, it feels surreal… I think it’s really taking a leap to assume that ☒☒☒☒☒☒ had bad intentions. I mean… if this happened to Werner, you probably wouldn’t be as apprehensive… right?”  

Gilbert frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “Like I said, that’s not my only concern. It’s the other things that ☒☒☒ has… ☒☒☒☒☒☒d too. Besides, even good intentions can lead to bad outcomes.”

“But bad outcomes can turn into worse outcomes if we make assumptions.” Olive looked to his left—towards the figure there. “Anyway, I… think my situation is different from yours.”

The figure’s blurry features slowly, gradually became focused, the faint lines becoming sharp, the colors saturated. It was… Claire.

Olive’s heart seized in his chest as his stomach tightened, but at the same time part of him felt as if seeing Claire walking and talking like this was natural.

“Probably,” Claire agreed, crossing his arms. He chuckled. “For one, you’re not ☒☒☒☒-☒☒☒☒.”

“That’s not something to joke about!” Eunji protested, fists clenched.

“That doesn’t really tell us anything,” Gilbert muttered. 

Olive opened his mouth—

“Holding this discussion without the person in question present is counterproductive.” Werner’s voice cut through their discussion. He stood behind Gilbert and behind him stood Atienna, face partially concealed in shadows cast by some unknown object. “Even if ☒☒☒☒☒☒ were present now, subjective feelings and personal opinions on morality are not the grounds to make an informed decision on.”

Cadence glanced at Jericho. “That’s a pretty harsh way to put it, don’t ya think, captain?”

Werner paused. “That was not my intention. Jericho, I understand where you’re coming from. I will speak with ☒☒☒☒☒☒ about your—everyone’s—concerns. I have them as well.  I believe we have stayed here well beyond a reasonable timeframe.”

“We’re finally leaving this hell hole?” Derik threw his hands up in the air. “Fucking finally—”

“You wish to speak with ☒☒☒?” From the shadows emerged Wtorek Izsak. To his left stood Elizabeta. Behind them hovered Csilla, eyes narrowed. “This is not someone who can be reasoned with.”

Jericho clenched his fist. 

“Aw, come on”—Cadence stepped in front of Jericho— “Anyone can be reasoned with.”

“Do you understand what it takes for an individual to reason themselves into doing” —Izsak pointed at Olive’s flower and the snake tattoo on his lower cheek seemed to glow— “that? Your judgment is clouded as is the judgment of everyone here.” He stared at his hand and clenched it before turning his gaze upon a spot beside Carl. “We need to uproot this tree. You may have fallen far from who you were, but I know that even you, Theta, understand how putrid that boy standing there is—how putrid everything that ☒☒☒ has made is.”

A spotlight flickered to life beside Carl. Slowly, Francis Foxman phased into existence there. His hand was at his chin, his lips dipped downwards. He glanced at Carl then at Cadence who gave him an imploring look.

“I am with you in your beliefs about the unnaturalness of the tree and of Olive and of the other ☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒—”

“Even your woman?”  Carl asked.

Cadence sighed while Francis frowned slightly.

“What? I was just askin’.”

“Even though I am with you, Gamma,” Francis continued, “I’m more concerned about the manner in which we are woven into the narrative—”

“It should not matter.” 

Francis looked up past Izsak towards Elizabeta and Csilla. “Does it not?”

“As I’ve said, this is counterproductive,” Werner interjected. “I’ll go discuss this with ☒☒☒☒☒☒ now.”

“Wait,” Claire interjected, “If there’s going to be any conversation going on, shouldn’t Ollie here be the one to… initiate it?”

In the shadows, Atienna rubbed her arms. 

“That’s what I was going to say…” Olive found himself speaking again. “Since it actually happened to me, I think it’d come across… better if I talked to her about it.”

Werner’s gaze softened slightly. “You need to rest, Olive. We can have a larger discussion afterwards.” He paused for a moment before he reached for his belt and unclipped the gun holster and the gun hanging there. He placed the items on a table that appeared in front of him.

Gilbert frowned at this as did Csilla. “☒☒☒ ☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒ is going to be there, isn’t he?  He’s a bit of a firecracker. Are you sure you shouldn’t take something with you?”

Atienna let out a visible breath but said nothing.

“Precaution is one matter. Aggression is another,” Werner replied evenly. “☒☒☒☒☒☒☒ is observant. There is potential for a misunderstanding if ☒☒☒ sees me armed when I’m usually not. I’ll report back within half an hour.”

With that, the man departed into the darkness.

An airy laugh sauntered through the air. When it faded away, so did everyone in Olive’s view. He found that he could move again, however, and realized that he wasn’t too alarmed by the occurrence. 

“Things probably would have turned out differently if you went in his place.”

Olive whipped around only to find a rather familiar and small white cat sitting on a piano beneath a spotlight in the darkness. Alice, wasn’t it? Olive was pretty sure that was the cat’s name. The cat stared at him with its unnaturally blue eyes and flicked its tail once, twice. The movement was fluid.

Olive blinked.

The tail thickened as it flicked again, growing a five-digited appendage at its end as it completed its movement. A hand. A hand attached to the tail-turned-arm attached to a slender dark body dressed in a monochrome suit attached to a head out from which flowed long white hair. The hand lifted, and with the same fluidity as that flicking tail, ran through those pearly white locks.

Olive tensed, mind racing back to that cold factory in the Twin Cities a year ago. Jericho’s cold hatred paired with the burning conductor in his hands—the memory burned into his own forever: “O… mega?”

Omega flipped her hair again as she crossed her legs. “Supposedly, I am.”

His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he was torn between fight or flight. Logic and reason followed shortly after. 

Dead. Omega was definitely… dead. Her vitae had been at the lowest energy level at her passing—when Jericho had obliterated every particle of her body—and she had become literally nothing.

Dream. This was a dream. Obviously, he’d fallen asleep at some point and everything he’d experienced the past few months was coalescing into this mess here. ‘Experienced the past few months’…? Wait—

“This isn’t quite a dream, if that’s what you’re thinking, little boy,” Omega hummed. “Not exactly. But what do I know? I’m just an idea.” 

“An idea…?” Olive muttered under  his breath. “A terrible idea, apparently…”

“An idea of what I should be,” Omega responded, ignoring his comment and flipping her hair over her shoulder again. “There’s nothing of me left after Jericho removed me from the cycle, after all. No bit of me left in the turn of time. What a cruel child—though I realize now there are much more cruel children out there.”

Olive frowned and took a step back. He opened his mouth, closed it, mulled for a moment, and then asked, “Why… are you here?”

Omega regarded him for a moment before she chuckled. “Well that’s not the question I was expecting.”

“You already said this wasn’t exactly a dream and  that you’re just an idea—whatever that means,” Olive muttered, although he was pretty sure this was a dream. “If you’re an idea, you’re certainly not mine.” Was this Omega-idea-thing related to Jericho somehow? Maybe Jericho’s not-dreams were bleeding into his own?

Omega clapped her hands. “Oh, you’re a lovely child, aren’t you—”

Not a child, Olive thought. And you’re a crazy lady.

“I’m probably here”—she hopped to a stand and spun in a circle on the piano— “here in this cute little crevice between the roots—”

Olive’s ears rang as his left temple pounded. Between the roots…?

“—because the impression I leave is too strong.” Omega sighed and placed a hand to her cheek. Then, she smiled. “The fury, the cold-determination, the joy, the relief, the guilt, the burning sensation of justice—all of those feelings wrapped up in that night just can’t be buried and planted over. It’ll just poison the crop. That’s why I’m here.”

Olive grimaced as he recalled that night. “Terrible analogy…”

Omega flipped her hair and with the motion transformed into a white cat once again. There was no display of light at the transformation so the possibility of it being the feat of transmutation conducting almost slipped Olive’s mind. Almost.

The cat flicked its tail and slowly blinked at him. It then leapt off the piano and headed back into the darkness. Olive knew for sure he wasn’t going to follow it so he backtracked and headed in the opposite direction in hopes of reaching the end of the dream.

After two steps, however, he found his feet once again cemented to the ground and his body out of his control. He glared at his feet in frustration as he willed them to move. He froze a second later as a stone-bricked path flickered to life at the tip of his shoes, extending out into the dark. The path ended at a standalone ornate oak door that looked vaguely familiar. A single spotlight shone on the door, highlighting its intricately carved floral designs.

He could move again but that path was definitely a no.

Olive turned to walk in another direction but startled when he saw the green path unfolding up to the door ahead of him once again. He turned. The path was there. He turned. The path was still there. He backtracked. The green path shortened, the door growing closer.

Really not much of a choice was there…? Typical dream behavior.

Olive relented and approached the door. He glared at it, peered around it, found nothing, glared at it again. Obviously, he was meant to open it in this dream. Olive begrudgingly reached for the door knob—

DON’T LOOK 

— but then paused as a wave of apprehension overcame him. He instead pushed his ear against its surface.

“Your wit is as sharp as your fists, ☒☒☒☒☒☒☒,” came a muffled voice. A woman’s voice.  “Congratulations on the well-earned victory and a beautiful trophy. I am so proud of you. So small yet so furious.”

A quiet chuckle resounded in response. “I am just happy I was able to do it.” The voice was young and bright, probably belonging to a kid no older than seven.

“You will have to choose eventually, my dear ☒☒☒☒,” the woman said, voice somehow simultaneously teasing yet serious. “Whether you wish to pick up the book or the spear.”

After a pause, the second voice murmured, “I do not hate attending those meetings with you, ☒☒☒☒, if that is… what you are implying by that.”

“That is not what I mean,” the woman replied, “but… one day you will see the importance of our work and perhaps you will not feel the way you do now.”

“I—”

“I do know how you feel.”

Silence.

Olive pulled back as he felt something beneath his skin squirm. It was the door. He stared at it and tensed as the door’s paint slowly peeled away, as it became chipped at its hinges, revealing its pale wooden bones. Aged—the door had aged. 

Muffling resounded behind the door again, prompting him to push back up against it.

“You have truly stepped up,” came the muffled voice. A man’s this time. “I would not have been able to bare the burden of ☒☒☒☒☒☒’s absence without you. Your ☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒ would not have. I know at least ☒☒☒☒☒☒ looks to you like a mo—”

“Oh, it is nothing, ☒☒☒☒,” another voice responded. “I know how hard you’re working.”

“No, no, ☒☒☒☒☒☒☒.” A gravelly sigh. “You have sacrificed so much. I—” A pause. “It has been some time, but have you ever considered participating in another compet—”

A chuckle interrupted the man. “Ah, sorry. It’s just that I’ve grown out of that, don’t you think? I’m… a bit embarrassed to bring it up now. I cannot believe you still remember that.”

Olive paused. Was that…?

He pushed his ear against the door again just in time to catch the sound of another door closing. It was quiet now. He could only faintly hear someone shifting inside and then— a sniffle. The sniffle turned to a shaky breath.

Olive pressed his hands against the door but then hesitated. Maybe this was something he wasn’t supposed to see  Sometimes his dreams would bleed to the other five through his connection and sometimes vice versa. Since he had the choice here, shouldn’t he… not look?

The door abruptly fell away and he stumbled forward into the room. He managed to catch himself before he hit the ground but kept low. 

A bright spotlight beamed down from the unseen ceiling, illuminating a small area of the room and leaving everything else in darkness. Books were scattered around the ground. The ones that lay open sported jagged, frayed white teeth, their pages having been clearly and rather violently ripped from them. Olive assumed those pages were the ones that were cascading down from above like the snow at the south of Signum.

A woman with her back to Olive stood in front of a bookcase illuminated by the light. The lower shelves were lined with books, the top plants, and the middle intricately carved art pieces.  They were shaped rather similarly, consisting of a pedestal-like body holding up various shiny-fist sized objects—one of which was a metal-replica of a closed fist. Another was of the tip of a spear and another a Virgoan mask.

Trophies, Olive realized. They were trophies. Which made Olive confused because this was not something he associated with—

The woman’s left hand supported the back of a green book that was spread open and their right was fisting its pages. She was shaking.

Olive straightened. “A—”

The woman let out a cry, tore the pages from the book, and threw the pages in the air. The pages cast long shadows on the ground as they sauntered downwards. The woman didn’t stop there, however, and letting out another cry, she threw the skeleton of the book at the shelf. The case shook, toppling over one of the trophies on the middle shelf.

The woman stared at the trophy for a moment before she ripped it from its place. She began to beat the shelf and everything on it with it—the other books, the other trophies, the plants—over and over again. Olive didn’t know how many times she brought the trophy down but he did know that the entire time she was letting out a blood curdling cry.

Eventually, the woman lost her fuel and tossed the now crooked trophy to the side. For a long stretch of time, she stood there, breathing heavily and catching her breath. Then her attention was drawn to one of the shattered flower pots hosting a wilting iris. Still panting, the woman sank to the ground, caressed a petal, and sighed.  

Olive sighed with her, but regretted it a moment after as the sound  gave the woman pause. She turned her head just slightly in Olive’s direction. Olive remained frozen on the spot.

Before the woman faced him fully, he felt something tug at his collar and then yank him with in-human strength back through the door. He barely had the time to see the door swing shut before he was dropped unceremoniously back at the beginning of the green path.

Olive couldn’t even find it in himself to grimace because that scene he had just witnessed was still playing on repeat in his head. He almost didn’t even notice that the spotlight beaming down at him from above caused the shadow at his feet to stretch and grow. It was only when a three-dimensional shape began to grow from that shadow that he was pulled from his thoughts. Legs sprouted then a torso then arms and hands and a head. The thing still vaguely resembled his own shadow: black, featureless, smudged at its edges.

Olive lifted his hand. The shadow mirrored his movement. He lowered his hand. It copied. He lifted his other hand. It did not copy—which unsettled Olive him more than the mimicking did.

Something above the shadow creature caught Olive’s attention. Thick ropes of vine cascading down from somewhere above. They were wrapped around the thing’s wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, and neck. A puppet strewn up on makeshift wire.

Scorpio—the first thought that came to Olive’s mind.

The vine around the thing’s neck tauted. It lifted its head with the motion. Its mouth—at least Olive assumed it was its mouth—opened wide and it said in a distorted voice—“I want to disappear—like an extinguished flame, leaving nothing behind.” 

Its lips did not move as it spoke.

Olive took a step back.

“But like an extinguished flame,” the thing continued, mouth still wide open. “I want my absence to be felt. I want to be gone but not forgotten, but…”

Olive an old but familiar feeling of shame rise from his stomach to his chest.

A melodic and bright tune abruptly sank down from above. It sounded like the kind of music Cadence listened to all the time—full of brass instruments and a piano chord here and there. The vines around the shadow thing’s knees and elbows began to swing this way and that, pulling the thing into a dance.

“—just a little pinch of hope,” the thing suddenly sang, mouth still ajar, to the tune, “keeps me going everyday.”

Something began to rain down from the sky. Random debris accompanied by a fine layer of ash. As the items clattered onto the ground, Olive was able to identify  wads of cigarettes and many cens coins.

“Just a little pinch of hope keeps me going everyday.” 

Next cascaded down a bunch of darkly colored leaves that made Olive momentarily think of fall in Taurus before he recognized what type of leaves were falling down. They came accompanied by a rain of small white pills that clattered like southern hail onto the ground.

“Just a little pinch of hope keeps me going everyday.” 

Next came a downpour of small, hand-sized books—one nearly hit him in the face. The titles were familiar. He’d seen them on Atienna’s bookshelves and on the shelves of Bodhi Temple.

“Just a little pinch of hope keeps me going everyday.” 

Now a painfully bright and colorful assortment of colored pencils whistled down on them. One pencil had the unfortunate fate of being cracked in half beneath the thing’s feet as it stomped to the beat of the song.

“Just a little pinch of hope keeps me going everyday.” 

Several large wine bottles and accompanying glasses rained down  and shattered into pieces on the ground. Red spilled in-between the fragmented pieces. One bottle cracked against the thing’s head, causing it to loll its neck.

Olive winced. “Hey… stop it…”

“Just a little pinch of hope keeps me going everyday,” it continued.

A shadow passed overhead. Olive looked up. Thin black threads began to float down from above. They looked like spiderwebs. Impulsively, Olive reached out to catch one—which was when he realized it was hair. The same shade as Lavi’s.

Olive’s blood ran cold. He stared at the poor creature that was covered in hair, ash, leaves in disbelief before he threw out his hand above it. An arc of crimson flame spewed out, incinerating the vines controlling the thing as he shouted— “Stop it!”

The music died abruptly. The thing stopped dancing, its head slumping forward. Olive’s heart raced in the silence. He shifted, the glass and ash crunching beneath his feet.

“Are you—”

“Why you?”

What?

“If that’s all that’s keeping you here,” the thing said, lifting its head. The darkness and shadow peeled away from its face revealing a face all too familiar to Olive. His own—but with a brightness in its eyes that Olive didn’t recognize. 

Somehow Olive knew that brightness was from a vibrant childhood full of mischief and laughter, from evenings afterschool spent loitering at playgrounds, from being surrounded, praised, looked up to by peers. He could see it faintly in his mind’s eye—brief blips of laughter, soccer fields, fun. A dream within a dream.

The thing spat—“Then why is it you?”

“What…?” Olive took a step back, looking his doppelganger up and down. He grimaced. “Okay. I’ve had enough of this dream—”

His doppelganger lunged at him before he could finish his sentence. Olive immediately stepped back and kicked out his foot, causing the doppelgänger to stumble forwards. He swiveled around the copy and kicked the back of its  knees, sending them both to the ground.

The doppelganger struggled but Olive managed to pin its arms behind it and press his own knee against the crevice of its back. Just like Werner and Atienna had instructed, just like Derik had him practice over and over again until it was muscle memory.

Olive figured the former two would be proud—that was, if this was real instead of a dream.

The doppelganger let out a growl of frustration. “Weirdly strong for a guy that’s just skin and bones.” 

Olive was rather caught off guard with the sound of his own voice. He prepared a dry remark but stopped himself when he realized his other self was trembling.

“I don’t want to die…” the doppelganger whispered. “I don’t want to die.”

His words struck a chord. 

“No one’s dying,” Olive assured him. “This is just a dream.”

The doppelganger let out a dry laugh as its face began to redden and then bubble and then blacken and crack. It was a familiar sight, burned into Olive’s memory from the Tragedy.

Ears ringing, Olive pulled back in alarm and flipped him over. “Are you okay—”

 “It may be a dream to you but it was real to me.”

Olive then watched as his own body burst into flames as his own wails echoed in his ears.

---

Olive woke up with a scream still caught in his throat.  He was immediately greeted by a pair of warm hands pressing against his chest and another pair cupping his face. The comforting gestures calmed him slightly, assuring him that he’d made it out of that nightmare.   

“Lavi, go tell the nurses that he’s awake!” shouted a muffled voice.

It was too panicked a voice to be Werner’s or Atienna’s, a voice too wavering to be Jericho’s, a touch too gentle to be Maria’s, and a tone too honest with emotion to be Cadence’s.  None of those were really ‘Derik things’ so he was out of the picture too.

With difficulty, Olive pulled himself out of the heavy darkness and into the light—

And bright lights they were. Like the kind they had in the Serpens Establishment. He was able to get a sense of where he was before his eyes adjusted to the brightness. The heavy smells of  antiseptics, the thinness of the blanket on top of him, the dryness of his skin—he was obviously in a hospital and he was obviously laying in a hospital bed.

The shadows dancing in front of him gradually came into focus. Two figures—one on his left and another on his right. A man and a woman. The man had a peppered beard and circular glasses and the woman dark curls tied into a messy bun. Their eyes were puffy and lined with dark circles. They were not the ones Olive had been expecting to be at his side because he didn’t recognize them. Well, not exactly. They did look slightly familiar and Olive searched his foggy mind to match memory to face. Nothing in the background—not the pale white walls, not the strange monitors beeping beside his bed, not the linoleum hall behind the door across from him—provided him any clues.

“Honey?” the woman whispered, moving a hand to his cheek. “What’s wrong? Can you recognize me?”

Then it clicked. 

He hadn’t recognized these two because he had not seen them in almost a decade and the pictures they had of them had immortalized them in their youth: proud, regal, imposing, wise. His… parents?

Olive startled, slapped her hand away, and pushed himself back against his bed. His mother gasped. His heart ached with guilt. 

But he had to think. 

Was he still… dreaming?

“Ollie…?” Lavi stood at the foot of his bed, eyes wide as saucers.

“Lavi?” Olive stared at her for a moment, racking his brain, trying to figure out how exactly he had gotten into his current predicament. He could feel the cotton of his bedding, the dryness of his knuckles, the itch in his throat. How could he feel all of these things if he was dreaming? 

It was difficult. He was grasping at straws, but he tried his best to backtrack. He remembered everything that had happened in Ophiuchus when Alpha had become that monstrosity. He remembered reading the dominos fall in the newspaper. He remembered planning to speak in Virgo with Illunaria. He remembered heading to Virgo—

And then what?

He racked his brain, searched his memory—and suddenly recalled leaving his house in the morning, waving goodbye to his parents, biking with friends to the beach, and heading to the mall. 

“Mom?” Olive tried. 

Her face warmed. 

Right, of course. Something must have happened at the mall and that landed him here and his parents had obviously rushed here after hearing about it. They probably had thrown a whole embarrassing fuss in front of the doctors and nurses. Yeah. That made sense.

So… why had he been so surprised when he’d seen them…? 

Wait. No.

Olive shook the last bits of drowsy, hazy sleep from his mind as reality slapped him straight in the face. He locked eyes with Lavi who stared back at him with an unreadable expression.

No, that had been a dream. A dream within a dream. His parents—the king and queen of Aries—were dead. They’d died because of a choice he had made. Lavi’s life had become intertwined with his own  because of a choice he’d made. And… Lavi’s life had been uprooted because of a choice his parents had made.

So why was this happening? A dream? No, too real. Scorpio? No, they’d… taken care of Scorpio. Jericho had made sure of it. Another saint candidate then? An ELPIS Leader? But why? A Transmutationist or a Diverger would be the only ones capable of pulling off this masquerading stunt—but what would be the point of making themselves look like his parents? Everyone in Signum knew they were dead. 

A familiar anchor-like heaviness began to tug at his chest.

Wait.

‘Everyone in Signum’…? But this wasn’t Signum. They called this place Ndoto. Olive could faintly recall that foggy tidbit from his dream, but the details were fading fast. Why was the dream that was fading from his memory playing out right in front of him? And… Were the others in this situation too?

Olive reached out for the other five, felt them faintly there, but then—nothing. Why weren’t they answering? Wait, no… When was the last time he’d actually seen them…? The mall? No, that was definitely part of his weird dream. 

“Olive?” his not-father pressed.

Lavi pushed her fingers to her lips. She put her hand down when their not-mother turned to look at her. 

Their not-mother urged, “Lavi, go get a nurse!”

Olive’s heart skipped a beat. They could see her?

Lavi startled at the shout, nodded, and darted out of the room.

His not-mother took hold of his hand. “Olive, say something, honey.”

It hurt. 

‘Calm down and think. Act. Do not overreact.”

Olive took in a breath. 

‘Just because you’re freakin’ out doesn’t mean other people know you’re freakin’ out.’

‘Intuition is the “best compass”.’

Olive resisted pulling his hand away from her. He resisted falling into her arms. He took in a deep breath and thought, rationalized. He played out a scenario in his head where he accused them both of being fakes, where he demanded to know who it was that was cruel enough to put his parents in front of him, where he poured out his frustrations and guilt towards them, where inevitably ended up being strapped down to a gurney and sedated. 

Bad move.

Next he played out a scenario in his head where he made a break for it and… the scenario didn’t end anywhere concisely because he had no idea where to run to. That left only one other scenario to go by—Cadence’s favorite. 

Fake it.

Olive swallowed, pushed down all of his feelings, and squeezed his not-mother’s hand back. The way her face warmed with relief made his stomach flip. He wanted to hug her, to push her away, to ask her why—but instead he looked at his not-dad. The worry in the man’s eyes caused Olive’s head to spin and made him want to crawl out of his own skin. He managed with a tight smile, “I’m fine.” 

* * *

Olive had almost forgotten how much he hated medical check ups. He hadn’t had a thorough one since the Week of Blindness and he was now reminded of how many questions there were. 

What’s your name? How old are you? How are you feeling? Do this for me. Do that for me.

Thankfully, the doctor that was questioning him had asked his not-parents and Lavi to leave the room. Which meant that they could all see Lavi. But… was that Lavi? His not-parents were definitely not his parents, but by extension then—

Ugh. This was frustrating.

Olive watched as the doctor scribbled into his notepad across from him. The doctor seemed benevolent. Appearances were deceiving, of course, but Olive didn’t get the impression that the doctor was a zealot that wanted to kill him nor did he get the impression that the doctor wanted to harvest him for some sort of syzygy.

Best to confirm what he knew. Fact one: he, Olivier Chance, was supposed to be in Virgo. Fact two: he was supposed to be stopping a war. Fact three: he could not reach the other five. Fact four: the place he currently was in was Ndoto. Fact five: he didn’t know how he knew he was in Ndoto just yet. Fact six: this was definitely physically real but also seemed to be derived from a faint dream he’d had prior to waking up. No, that wasn’t a concrete conclusion to make.  Because—what came first? Ndoto or his dream?

“Olive, do you feel fatigued at all?” the doctor asked. “Tired?”

It was weird to hear someone who wasn’t close to him address him so informally. He didn’t hate it. Being addressed as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Prince Olivier Chance’ or even ‘Prince Chance’ was a mouthful and an earful.

“No,” Olive answered automatically before he paused.

It was true. He didn’t feel tired or exhausted or drained. He felt wide-awake, sharp, ready to move. In fact, he had not felt this well-rested in a very long time. It felt… good. 

“I don’t feel tired at all…”

He needed more information, he realized.  Not confirmation of facts about himself but facts about himself here, facts about wherever here was, facts about how here came to be. Books. He needed books. He needed to read. Hit a library. A temple. Whatever.

“Can I wash my face?” Olive interrupted the doctor mid-question.

“I—uh.” The doctor appeared perplexed. “Wash… your face?”

“My skin feels dry,” Olive said. “And I feel dirty. It’d be nice if I could wash my face.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “I’m sure we can get you to a sink or have the nurses bring towels for you after we finish these questions—”

“No, I can’t wait that long. Please.”

“Well—”

“If you don’t moisturize, you get wrinkles. Everyone knows that and I don’t want to become wrinkly,” Olive pressed. When the doctor didn’t seem convinced, he added for good measure as he eyed the doctor’s crow’s feet—“I’m sure you can understand where I’m coming from.”

* * *

The doctor relented and called in two nurses to lead Olive to a patient bathroom down the hall. He tried to take note of corridors and faces, but they ushered him along so quickly he barely had the time to etch them into memory.

The bathroom they let him into was small, consisting of a single shower, a toilet, and a sink. Thankfully, the two nurses did not stand in the room to watch over him. “We’ll be right around the corner,” they said as they left.

Olive turned on the faucet and stared into his reflection. He reached out to the others again. They were there. He knew they were, but then why weren’t they answering his call? He shook his head and then tried— “Lavi…?”

Unlike all the times before, his sister did not float down from the sky.

Olive let out a sigh.

He didn’t know where the others were. He didn’t know where Derik was. He didn’t know what was going on with Lavi. But what he did know was that he needed to gather information. On his own. He could do it.

He turned off the faucet and put his ear to the door. The nurses voices came out muffled but he could tell they were walking away from the door. As soon as he heard their footsteps recede completely, he peeked out the door. A long and mostly empty hallway stretched out to his left and right. Down the right wing he could see his two nurses chatting away with two other nurses. Down the left he could faintly make out a sharp turn a few feet away before the hall continued onwards.

A perfect excuse if he was caught— “Whoops. I took the wrong corner.”

Olive took in a breath and darted down the left wing, whipping himself around the corner and continuing down that hall quickly. This particular hall was lined with windows on the left-hand wall so Olive was able to see the light form the night sky through them—

Eyes widening, Olive skidded to a halt and neared one of the windows.

There were no stars in the sky. Instead, what illuminated the night were the thin white branches of a great white tree that pulsated in the distance. A wave of deja vu overcame Olive as he stared at it—possibly because it somehow reminded him of the Great Tree of Virgo or perhaps because he swore he’d seen it in a dream.

Olive continued, rounding another corridor. There. Down the hall a little sign above one of the many doors read RECORDS. A quick peak in the window leading into the office showed empty desks and endless rows of filing cabinets in need of raiding—

Olive paused.

Maybe Maria and Cadence were influencing him too much.

Olive tried the door. 

Unlocked.

Hm. 

He slipped into the room and headed straight to the filing cabinets. He pulled one open, unsure of exactly what he was looking for.  Inside were manilla folders labeled with names in bold. They were in alphabetical order… by first name? Werner would probably have a lot to stay about that choice if he were here.

Olive pulled the first folder  out and scanned it.

Name: Annette Brown. 
Age: 21 years
Sex: Female 
KM-Level: 2
Quick Note: Known and frequent history of Von-Neumann…

They were medical records, Olive realized. He pushed his index finger against the KM-level label. Why was that so familiar…? He shut the file, put it back in place, and began to scan the rest of the name tabs. Nothing stood out to him until—

ATIENNA IMAMU.

Olive’s heart skipped a beat as he pulled it out. It was thicker than the others. Why was this here? Had she been a patient here too? When?

He made to open it before echoing footsteps from the outside gave him pause. He ducked low, tensing. The footsteps receded.

Olive put the file on the ground and began to search the drawer for other familiar names.

CADENCE FOXMAN

That didn’t seem right. Did Cadence give a fake name? Regardless, Olive took the folder.

DERIK STEIN 

EUNJI YUSEONG

Olive squinted. 

FELIX ILSEONG

JERICHO AL-MAHDY

Olive stared at the last name again. Al-Mahdy…? Something about that surname felt familiar. Seeing it attached to Jericho’s last name seemed both strange and suitable. 

KLAUS KLEINE

MARIA GLORIA-MORANDI

…Again? Olive felt his heart squeeze this time. Morandi. 

SHION MYOSOTIS

Olive paused at this one. The name that had started appearing time and time again since the Week of Blindness. After some ruminating, he took that one as well.  He was near the end now—

WERNER WALTZ

There. That was enough.

Olive tucked the files beneath his paper-thin hospital gown and peeled out of the room. He needed to find some place safe to stash these, return to the bathroom before the nurses noticed he was gone, and then grab the files again.

Keeping low, Olive slipped out of the room subsequently colliding with another body. He figured whoever he collided with was pretty sturdy because he was sent flying onto his back after impact.

“Oh dear!”

A familiar voice. Relief bloomed in Olive’s chest. Cadence?

“Hey, are you okay—” 

Another familiar voice. More relief. Werner?

Wait a minute. Something wasn’t right.

A gasp followed a second after. “Ollie?!”

Olive barely had the chance to get his bearings together before he was wrapped in a pair of sturdy arms, lifted up the ground, and swung around and around and around. He struggled against the death grip before he realized the death grip’s orchestrator was Werner.

“You’re awake!” Werner exclaimed. “You’re awake, Ollie!”

“Put him down!” chastised Cadence.

Werner finally set Olive down.

Once Olive regained his balance, he grabbed a hold of the both of them. “Werner! Cadence!” Are you two okay…? He paused as he looked the duo up and down. What are you two… wearing?

Cadence had on ridiculously tall high heels and a dress full of frills and sporting a pair of lace puffy shoulders. Werner was wearing sunglasses, a pair of  glitter gold slacks, and a matching suit jacket that was just barely tamed by a black leather jacket.

“Our celebration clothes!” Werner explained, opening up his leather jacket wider. He spun Cadence around, showing Olive the guitar on her back before pulling  “Nico just woke up a few hours ago and Caddy and I were going to go have a party in his room as soon as the doctor gave us the green light—”

Caddy?

He slumped slightly “—but I felt bad since you still weren’t better yet and Kaiser is still missing—”

The Kaiser? Definitely not missing. Definitely… very dead. But that was supposed to be the same case for his parents too. 

“—but you’re awake now, Ollie!” Werner shook him back and forth. “Now we can have one big party! 

The smile was blinding.

“Werner!” Cadence slapped the man on the arm. “You’re going to hurt him! Look—he’s still in his hospital gown! That means he hasn’t been discharged yet.”

“Huh? Oh!” Werner released him. “Sorry, Ollie.”

Cadence’s gaze softened when it went from Werner to Olive. She pulled him to a gentle embrace. “I’m glad you’re alright.” She placed a hand on cheek before pulling away. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“I—” Olive held his hands up slightly. “What?” He shook his head. What’s going on? Did I miss something…? Why are you acting… like this? Was it an override? 

Werner stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Olive paused. 

What did he mean? Suddenly, Werner’s smiling demeanor didn’t seem as unnatural anymore nor Cadence’s mature elegance. No… now it all seemed nostalgic. No, it gave Olive a sense of deja vu. Like he’d seen it in a dream.

A chill crept up Olive’s spine but before he could address it commotion resounded from down the hall back where he’d come from.

“We should get out of here,” Olive said quickly. “I… did some investigating earlier and think I found something.” He peeked up in search of approval but found blank stares. “I need to head back to the nurses so I don’t look suspicious but I— I just don’t understand what’s going on.” He struggled to put his feelings into words and looked up at them.

Usually his feelings would bleed through their connection and they would get it, but now they stared blankly at him. 

“What do you need to understand?” Cadence asked.

“I… Come on.” Olive took the lead and headed down the hall. 

Werner and Cadence exchange looks before following after him. They had just made it around the corner when the shouts of the nurses began to echo down the hall. Olive’s heart leapt a bit but no solutions from Cadence and Wener came to him which led Olive to a solution of his own: a small door labeled JANITOR’S CLOSET squeezed between a bunch of other doors.

There.

He ran to the door, tried it, found it unlocked. He looked back at the two.

Why were they moving so slowly?

Olive grabbed Cadence’s hand and darted into the closet. He looked back expecting to see Werner close behind him. Instead he saw Werner staring blankly back at him from the hall. The man waved. Olive shook his head, ran to grab Werner’s hand, and dragged him in too.

“Honey, what’s going on…?” Cadence asked as soon as Olive closed the door. She glanced around the closet and grimaced as she rubbed her arms. 

Olive turned to face them—to really face them. Finally, he concluded, “I think… something is happening to us. No… something’s already happened.” He ruminated. “Do you remember waking up here too? No—what’s the first thing you remember?”

The two stared blankly at him. Cadence reached for Werner’s arm.

“Uh…” Werner tapped his chin. “I spent the night at Mutti’s house because it was really lonely at home—shopome—since Nico still hasn’t been sent home yet so I woke up there? The last thing I remember is—”

“Why are you asking these questions, Olive?” Cadence interjected, face folded with concern. “What did the doctor say about your condition?”

“I’m asking because the first thing I saw when I woke up were…” Olive let out a breath as his heart squeezed in his chest. My parents.

He looked up and paused.

“Well, of course, Olive,” Cadence returned with a smile. “They’ve been visiting you every waking moment of the day. I’m not surprised they were the first ones you saw.”

Olive stared at them. The way she’d said it almost made him believe it, almost made him believe that there was nothing wrong with waking up to see his parents, almost made him believe that his reality was the dream. 

The dream.

He felt the color drain from his face.

“Signum, saint candidates, ELPIS leaders, the syzygy, True Conductors”—Olive began to list them out as he counted his fingers— “does… any of that sound familiar to you?”

They exchanged looks.

“We’re True Conductors,” Olive tried next. “We’ve been… through a lot together. We can… feel each other, remember things from each other, hear each other’s thoughts—”

Cadence put a hand on Olive’s shoulder. “Of course we’ve been through a lot of things together, Olive—”

Olive felt his heart sink. He knew that tone of voice well. It was the tone of voice to placate not a family member, not a close friend, but a distant acquaintance. 

“—but this talk about hearing each other’s thoughts… we need to get you to a doctor—”

“Oh!” Werner’s brows rose and Olive felt his heart rise. The man snapped his fingers. “Like the paint candies Klaus and Atienna were talking about!”

“What…? No!”

“Oh dear… I think he has VNW,” Cadence murmured. She squeezed Olive’s shoulder. “Honey, what exactly do you think is happening?” 

“Wait—VNW?” Olive stared at her  before the word clicked into place in his mind. “Von-Neumann Wagner disease…”

“You know what it is?” Cadence sounded too pure and hopeful. “You remember?”

Olive wasn’t sure if ‘remember’ was the right word. He ruminated. “But that’s probably just something whoever’s running all this uses to cover up whatever they’re actually doing…”  

The two exchanged looks.

“Olive….” 

“Look, this isn’t VNW.” Olive straightened. “And I’ll prove it to you.”  He looked each of them in the eyes. Then how are we talking like this?

Cadence glanced at Werner. “Talking like what?” 

“Huh? Aren’t we talking like we’ve always been talking?” Werner rubbed his chin.

No, we’re not! Olive gestured between them. We’re talking through our connection!

“Don’t get angry, Ollie. It’s all disco.” Werner raised his hands placatingly before he brightened. “Oh! Atienna mentioned something like this the other day. Maybe it’s like… a charade game?”

Atienna…?

Olive grimaced as his temple pounded and an itch tickled his throat. He coughed into his elbow and dislodged something from his throat. He spat it out in his hand. A flower petal.

Great. 

Werner peered at him. “Are you okay, Ollie?”

“I’m… fine. And it’s not a charade game.” Olive hesitated, fisting the petal in his hands. “But do you see what I mean? It’s happening right now.” He tapped himself. “I know how things really are, but when I try to explain it, you all just think it’s VNW.” He shook his head. “But… how are they—whoever they are—doing all of this?” He looked up at them. I mean—you both really think we’re talking normally… so it could be a manipulator. Manipulator’s can definitely affect the way a person perceives things and how… a person can think. He resisted tensing at the thought of Scorpio. But this…? He gestured to them and tried to wrack his brain. This seems so way too complex. 

Then again, Olive didn’t really know the full extent of a Manipulator’s ability if they had an endless supply of vitae on their hands. Scorpio could manipulate limbs, perception, and even influence thoughts–which was beyond anything a normal Manipulator could do. However, Olive had never witnessed the limits of the saint candidate’s manipulation. Was there any limit? Everything had a limit.

Cadence and Werner were whispering back and forth to each other now. Something about getting a nurse or a doctor.

“Can I see…” Olive paused. “Can I see your hand, Werner?”

“Huh?” Werner held out his hand. “Okay?”

Cadence clicked her tongue at him.

Olive hesitated for a moment before he turned over Werner’s hand in his own, studying how pristine they were. He felt unsettled by the fact that whoever was responsible for all of this had somehow taken away one of Werner’s greatest insecurities.  Olive reached over to rub a strand of Cadence’s long hair between his fingers. “No…. this is something else.” 

Extraneous Transmutationist were capable of projecting the vitae inside of their bodies to the outside world. The conductor allowed them to mold the vitae’s shape, properties, and manipulate the refractivity of each vitae particle. Through that mechanism, it was possible to create illusions and even perform first aid to a limited degree. Cadence was capable of creating grand illusions. A saint candidate with a nearly limitless pool of vitae at their disposal, could probably create even grander illusions. But even saint candidates had to obey the laws of vitae and physics. Right? The clear hall marker of transmutation conducting—of any extraneous conducting—was residual heat. He was no expert in that area, but that fact he knew was true.

And both Cadence’s hair and Werner’s hand were cold. That and the entirety of Ndoto—if a transmuted illusion—would be noticeably warm. And it was not. In fact, it was almost uncomfortably chilly right now. Ndoto definitely was a real, solid place. Not an illusion. Unless his perception was being altered by a Manipulator but the only way to test that would be too—

“Only living things can die.”

The words, the color,  the memory of the dream—the nightmare—resurfaced in Olive’s mind. Fear seized his chest and thundered in his ears as he felt around his chest for a scar. Nothing.

“I… was attacked…?” Olive drew slowly as he tried his best to remember. It was difficult. Fuzzy. The only thing that remained was the feeling of desperation and fear. “Was it by… Libra?” And was he even the one who got attacked or was it…? Suddenly, Olive recalled his dream doppelganger. 

“Libra? The star sign?” Werner appeared confused.

“It was the…” Cadence let out a shaky, quiet breath. She put a hand over her mouth. “They think it was the Raincoat Killer. Oh, Olive—” She held him by the shoulder and stared into his eyes. “Olive, they said there was so much blood… I…”

Werner’s gaze darkened. He kicked a bucket of water in the corner, startling Olive. “When I get my hands on that guy, I’ll make him pay for what he did to you and Nico!”

“Calm down, Werner,” Cadence chastised. “What will kicking a bucket do?”

Libra must have attacked him, Olive realized, heart hammering in his ears. Maybe that was why he was… ‘awake’ now? Was that even the correct term? And what was he doing before he was ‘awake’? Had he been like Werner and Cadence?

This was not a transmutation. This most likely was not simple manipulation. Whoever was doing this had to have a large amount of vitae at their disposal. 

Olive ruminated more.

Not a Transmutionist. Possibly a Manipulator but if it was a Manipulator, there had to be some other Conductor working with them. Definitely not an Elementalist. Definitely not a Projector. Two too straightforward conducting types. Definitely not a Conjuror—

Olive paused. Then, he felt a chill run down his spine as he stared at Werner and Cadence.

No. He couldn’t rule out that possibility, could he…? He had never witnessed what an endless supply of vitae could do for a Conjuror’s abilities. Maybe they could conjure up the entirety of Ndoto. All they would need really would be detailed blueprints in their mind of how everything should be. That and they’d need to have way too much time on their hands.

Olive scoffed internally. 

But… if third-level vitae could let a Manipulator easily control living things then maybe that same level of vitae could let a Conjuror conjure… life…?

Olive stared back at the two.

No, manipulating life and conjuring life were two different things. Sure, if a person knew the intricacies of the human body well, they could probably replicate a fully functioning living system, but… would that system even be sentient?

Anyways. There were tell-tale signs of a Conjuror’s conducting just like there were tell-tale signs of a Manipulator’s and Transmutstionist’s conducting. Olive remembered studying briefly about it prior to taking his conducting exam but—damn it—he couldn’t remember what those signs were now. He’d have to ask a Conjuror. 

Werner held his head as his eyes flitted between Cadence and Olive in confusion. “Conjuror? Manipulator? What are you talking about, Ollie…?”

“I…” Olive studied Werner, thought for a moment, and then asked, “How long… have we been here?”

Werner looked around the closet. “One minute and twenty one seconds?”

Olive opened his mouth and then closed it. Right—he vaguely remembered certain traits about this ‘version’ of Werner. The most standout trait was that ‘Werner’ was very loyal—Olive was glad that at least stayed the same—but not the sharpest tool in the shed. A wave of second-hand embarrassment hit him but he kept it down for Werner’s sake whenever he got back to normal. 

Back to normal.

Olive looked between them. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how the both of them became like this—especially since their connection was still present even though it seemed weakened. When one person faltered in their circle, another was always ready to pick them back up. Unless… Had they all succumbed to whatever this was at the same time? 

It slowly dawned on Olive as he studied them that their roles had become reversed. Usually he was always relying on and looking to them for guidance and answers. Now…

“I’ll get you both better,” Olive assured them. “I promise.” He headed to the closet door. “I’ll try to explain everything later, but right now I need to do something. You just have to trust me.” 

He peeked out the door. The hall was empty. He slipped out, figuring that it was better to take advantage of his good luck while it lasted.

Olive paced down the hall in search of a place to stash the files he’d found. Cadence and Werner were in no condition to hide them for him at the moment—

“This way, nurses! He’s over here! He’s not well—”

Olive whipped around in alarm just in time to see Cadence flag down some nurses at the opposite end of the hall. He couldn’t believe it. Of course it was Cadence.

Olive rounded the corner and skidded to a hall. It was a dead end. A waiting room hosting a sofa, a table full of magazines, and a large box  full of flashing colors on a stand. Olive somehow knew that box was called a television.

Footsteps resounded from down the hall paired with shouts of his full name. They were getting closer. Not good. He needed to stash the files somewhere. The sofa? No. There was no telling who came around here. Then—

Olive eyed the window. He paced over to it and tried it. Huh. Unlocked. He hadn’t been too surprised at the unlocked filing room since he’d heard stories from Nico through Werner how low-security certain hospitals could be. He’d started questioning things a bit when the janitor closet had appeared. He became suspicious when he found it unlocked. Now…?

He slid the window open and peered down below. There was a courtyard there and a couple of thick trees and bushes directly below him. Would it be safe to throw them down there? What if the files flew out? Maybe he could hide it somewhere down there and return to the building and say he got lost? Or he could just make a run for it—but then what? 

Well…

Olive climbed up and then balanced himself on the windowsill.

“Olive!” came a cry of alarm.

He whipped around to find a whole crowd gathered behind him. Some nurses, a handful of other hospital staff including the doctor who had been questioning him, and—his family. His not-mom, his not-dad, Lavi, Werner, and Cadence.

“Olive, I know you may feel confused right now,” the doctor said, hands raised, “but we can help you.”

“Please just  come down, honey,” his mother urged, inching closer, hand extended. 

Cadence nodded, eyes wide. She motioned him down. “Olive, please, trust us—”

“Oh! I’ll go catch him!” Werner shouted, daring away and down the hall. “I’ve got you, Ollie!”

Lavi caught his attention next. She stood behind their not-parents, lips pursed, eyes narrowed—and not in a pouting way. She glanced at the window and then locked eyes with him. He could tell—she was telling him to jump. He didn’t know why she was telling him to jump, but—

Olive turned away from his family and leapt. The tree branches hit him first before the bushes. His cheeks were stinging in a familiar way by the time he hit the ground. He had braced himself for impact but was surprised to find that lightning pain wasn’t shooting through his back like it normally would when he made these kinds of escapes.

Olive grimaced, picked himself up, dusted himself off. He glared up at the faces crowded at the window far above him and scowled—

—then he felt a familiar and indescribable tug pull at his chest. He turned in the direction it willed. A very, very familiar woman stood on the white path a few feet away from him. Behind her was a familiar man. 

Olive stared back at the woman feeling relief flutter in his chest. “Atienna?”

She was dressed in a long skirt and a flower-patterned shirt. Her hair was short. She looked like a piece that fit perfectly in the puzzle that was Ndoto, but—but Olive knew that she was like him. He remembered it faintly: the way he’d teased her for her VNW and thought her inquisitiveness and turmoil were silly. Guilt and embarrassment wracked Olive’s mind followed swiftly by relief—because all of those bratty actions had been part of his dream…. right? No. It had all been real to Atienna… hadn’t it? 

Atienna?

Atienna took in a breath and stared inquisitively, almost hopefully at him. She took a step forward—

“Ollie!”

The shout was followed by pounding footsteps. Olive turned to see Werner enter the area. The man stopped short a block down from them, faced the window on the fifth floor, and threw out his arms. 

“I’ve got you!” Werner shouted up at no one. “Where are you, Ollie? I’ve got you, buddy!”

“Saints…” Olive muttered, pushing down yet anothrr wave of second-hand embarrassment.

More footsteps resounded in the direction Werner had come from. Olive suddenly remembered where he was and what he needed to do. He rushed to Atienna’s side and shoved the files from his shirt into her hand.

“What are you doing!” Sefu exclaimed, separating the two. “What are you trying to do to her?”

What the…? Olive had always known Sefu to be dutiful and protective over Atienna—though Olive doubted she needed protection—but the wild look in the man’s eyes was foreign and unnerving.

“It’s… okay, Sefu,” Atienna reassured him. She took the files from Olive without her eyes leaving his face. …Olive?

It’s me, Olive confirmed. The call had been short and sweet—but it was different. Just like how his communication with Werner and Cadence earlier had been different. Olive couldn’t tell what she was thinking nor what she was feeling. Her expression was as calm as always. He’d always thought her level-headedness was admirable, but he’d never realized how unnerving her demeanor was when he couldn’t hear her thoughts or feel her.

“Olive!” came a breathless shout.

The doctors and nurses were here.

Olive crossed his arms when they approached and spoke before they could— “I get it now. Save your breath. Atienna explained everything to me. I have VNW or something. You can take me back.” He glanced back at Atienna but couldn’t think of any proper words to say. It was at times like these that Olive would rely on his connection to convey his feelings, but—