74. Three-Way Communication (Patreon)

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the radio silence this past week. I sort of had one of those major mental health malfunctions that just kind of left me a sobbing mess for a week! Y'know, like normal people just have sometimes. But I'm back! Our regular chapter schedule resumes now. Apologies! Oh, and also we have content warnings for this one: severe suicidal ideation, significant discussion of suicide, and general horrific Goddess things. Stay safe and make sure to read the chapter when you're mentally prepared for it! Thank you all for reading!

Dr. Carson stares at me, speechless for only a few moments before she rallies herself.

"...Would you be willing to go into a little more detail on what you mean by that?" she manages.

A short, helpless laugh escapes my lungs. That was a very Dr. Carson sort of answer.

"What is there to explain?" I ask. "I'm a living universe bomb. The Goddess created me with the intention of using me to smash her two favorite worlds together like silly putty. When that happens, billions will die."

"And… what makes you so sure of this?" Dr. Carson asks, hiding the fear from her voice but not from her racing heartbeat.

"The fact that She told me as much?" I say helplessly. "The fact that it has already happened once before? The fact that I can feel it in my soul? It's impossible not to be aware of it, now that I know."

The closer my bodies are to each other in form, the closer the universes become to one another in reality. I'm not just a bridge, I'm a winch, cranking back and slowly but surely pulling universes together with my soul. It's no wonder that I'll become immortal after the world ends; once all this power stops moving entire realities around, every last drop of it will be free to heal me with. A literally apocalyptic amount of energy will be dedicated to the spell that maintains my true form, no matter what.

I can feel how close we are to the end. The Goddess is right, because of course She is: the next time I speak Destiny Bond out loud, it's over. The worlds collide. But even if I don't speak it, even if I hold it back for as long as possible and never even try to use it again, it's inevitable. My self-transformation spell has never stopped, no matter how much I may have wanted it to back when it first started affecting me. It has always, from the very beginning, been our time limit to the end. A wick on the bomb that I kept eagerly blowing on to make it burn faster. How long do we even have now, if I extend our time as much as possible? A few months, maybe?

"Please trust me on this, Dr. Carson," I beg her. "Billions will die. And the only way to stop it is if I die first."

I put my feet up on her couch, being careful not to damage it with my claws as I hug my knees with the second set of arms I had been so, so excited about getting up until the moment it finally happened.

"But I don't want to do that," I admit. "I'm scared."

She swallows.

"I… of course you are, Hannah," she says. "Anyone would be."

"I need you," I say softly, "to convince me to kill myself anyway."

Her eyes go wide. She sets her pen down.

"Hannah, no," she says firmly.

"Yes," I insist. "You have to believe me. It really is the only way!"

"Hannah, I cannot, will not, will never under any circumstances encourage you to commit suicide."

"Even knowing it would save literally billions of lives?" I press. "And not just on Earth either, there are multiple worlds at stake here. Do you realize that's what you'd be doing?"

My whole body shakes in terror as the words pour out of me.

"I don't want to die, Dr. Carson. Whenever I've had to choose between killing and dying, I've killed. But the situation is different now. The people I'd be killing aren't pirate slavers or torturing cultists, they're innocents. An uncountable number of individuals I've never even met. They're all going to die, and there's only one way to stop it, and I…"

I trail off, tears streaming down my face. This is the burden I've been given. The whole time I've been searching for a way to beat the Goddess, I've been Her win condition all along. It's not even a real game. It's just a fucking torture movie.

The Goddess pouts. Now I'm just being a sore loser, saying something like that. Because we both know I've already lost, right? I'm lying to myself about just saving Ida first. I can't do it. I'm not good enough to save the world, and I never will be.

"Is it alright," Dr. Carson says softly, "if I try to summarize the situation, to see if I understand it correctly?"

"Go for it," I mutter miserably.

"There is a goddess," she says, "one who created you and the world."

"No," I shake my head. "She didn't create the world. She found it."

"Alright," Dr. Carson nods. "She did not create the world, but she created you. And she needs you in order to combine one world with another."

"Well, She doesn't really need me," I clarify. "She could destroy the world however She wants, whenever She wants. My life is just a game to Her, a set of self-imposed rules She's following to make getting what She wants more difficult. It's all a self-made puzzle She created to be entertained."

"Well then, it sounds to me that all of this—every last bit of it—is this goddess' fault. You don't want to hurt anyone, and you won't be hurting anyone. She will be."

"Sure, but who cares?" I ask. "I sure don't think all the people that die will be interested in quibbling over fault. I have the power to save their lives with nothing but a bullet to my head. That's a choice I can make, and it's a choice that will save them. So if I don't make that choice, that's on me. Right?"

Dr. Carson is quiet for a while before leaning forward.

"...To be clear," she says carefully, "is this the same goddess that emotionally and sexually abuses you?"

I flinch and look away, my single-word response feeling like vomit in my mouth.

"Yeah."

"Is she here?" Dr. Carson asks. "Right now?"

"She is," I confirm quietly. "She's everywhere, but She's especially always with me."

"Would it be possible for me to speak with her?" Dr. Carson asks. "I don't usually like to host sessions with an abuser and their victim together, but if that's what we're doing, we may as well make it a proper conversation."

I look back up at her, the weight of the Goddess's manic grin putting pressure on the entire room.

"I don't think you want that, Dr. Carson," I tell her. "I think She might find you interesting."

"Well, it's a good thing I have a therapist of my own then, isn't it?" she asks with a wry smile. "I can only imagine how difficult it would be to handle things without one, so I'd rather not let you, if I can."

The Goddess howls with laughter, causing me to uselessly reach up and cover my ears with the hands not hugging my knees. Oh, She would love to speak with this woman. All the little mortal needs is a soul. I'll be a dear and give her one, won't I? I already know my stupid little theory about the apocalypse being other people's magic is wrong, so what am I afraid of?

Well, other than the person whose job it is to understand other people's minds being a Pneuma mage, of course.

"I… I don't know if that's a good idea," I stammer at her, my body shaking. "You don't want Her in your life, Dr. Carson. You don't want Her in your soul!"

The moment she becomes a Pneuma mage, I won't be able to trust her. And I definitely won't be able to get a new therapist; it was hard enough forcing myself to see Dr. Carson and I only managed it because Dr. Carson is incredible. It would be… very bad, if I were to lose her. Goddess knows I need her.

…Hmm. The Goddess knows I need her.

"Well, that decision is yours to make, Hannah," Dr. Carson says. "I don't appreciate knowing there's someone listening in on our conversations without participating, but you're the one in control here. We will do what you think is best."

I don't know what's best. That's why I need Dr. Carson. So… maybe I should trust her a little more.

"...I would have to give you magic," I tell her quietly.

Her eyebrows raise.

"You can give people magic?"

"Yes," I nod. "I can give anyone magic. All I have to do is incant a spell out loud, and the Goddess will place a soul into anyone close enough when She descends to speak it. In this case, that would just be you. I have no way to know what magic you'll get, of course, and… well, it's the Goddess Herself that ultimately gets to choose. The spells you receive will appeal to your deepest, most powerful desires. It will be the sort of magic you could never bear to resist using. You'll love it, Dr. Carson, but that doesn't mean it'll be good for you. Even if your magic doesn't happen to end the world."

"I see," Dr. Carson says with a soft smile. "Well if that's how it works, that's fine. I do not fear myself, Hannah. I know the sort of woman I am, and I'm proud of it. What's most important to me is whether or not this will help you."

I don't know. I have no way to know. But if Dr. Carson thinks it might help… why not? Why not take that risk? What more do I even have to lose?

Well, a lot, the Goddess laughs. There are plenty of people I care about, Dr. Carson included. But the Goddess isn't going to hurt any of them too badly. I am, after all, on Her team; I deserve to share in Our inevitable victory, having made it this far on my own. If any of my friends were slated not to survive the end of the world, I really might kill myself. And the Goddess loves me far too much to ever want that to happen.

So by all means, I should gamble as much as I like, as long as it isn't with my life. The Goddess loves a good game, after all. Let's see what this therapist has to say, shall We?

"...Okay," I sigh. "If you're sure, Dr. Carson, I'll introduce you to Her. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"It is, I'll admit, not professionally advisable for me to take such risks," Dr. Carson smiles. "But if you survive, magic will eventually spread to everyone, won't it? And I have every intention of helping you not just survive, but thrive. So please, go ahead."

I close my eyes and nod. I don't deserve Dr. Carson.

"Aura Sight," I incant, the Goddess descending to steal my breath and speak the words. Dr. Carson freezes, her first taste of the truly divine overwhelming her body and mind as her own breath is stolen as well, gathered from her frightened exhalation and formed into a soul. The Goddess places the stolen breath back into Dr. Carson's chest, forever transformed by Her infinite touch.

Art and Light, my own spell tells me. Oh Goddess, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's Art and Light.

…The Goddess pouts. There's no need to thank Her, of course. That's merely what fit Dr. Carson best. She does not believe in a single correct state for the human mind to be in. She does not believe it is her job to change a person into whatever she thinks is better. Dr. Carson believes only in human happiness, and her duty to cultivate it. What is that, if not an artist? What is that, if not a shining light? Thank your therapist, not the Goddess.

I blink. That response surprised me. The Goddess is normally one to happily accept any praise, no matter how undeserving. Is she… disappointed? Fuck, for all that talk, She still wanted to make my therapist a Pneuma mage, didn't She? And She could have, nothing stops Her beyond the fact that it wouldn't be in line with how She normally grants magic. The Goddess is many things, but a liar and a rule breaker are not among them.

"Oh," Dr. Carson says softly, staring at nothing. It feels almost like she had an entire private conversation all by herself, a divine revelation between her and the Goddess that I am not privy to. Something that educated her and shook her to the core.

"...Are you alright?" I ask her fearfully.

"I… yes," she blinks, a slight frown on her face. "I believe so."

"Your magic is Art and Light, apparently," I smile at her. "I imagine it will be beautiful."

"...For all you despise and fear this Goddess, you still love magic, don't you?" Dr. Carson says sadly, brushing away some hair that had gotten displaced in her shock.

"Of course," I agree. "If there was nothing about my fate that I could love, my decision would be a lot easier. That's how She intends to win the game."

"You don't need to care about Her game," Dr. Carson insists.

"I don't need to care that I'm going to kill billions of people!?"

"Hannah, you are not accountable for any of the people She kills."

"...That would be nice if it were true, but it seems like a rather irresponsible thing to convince me of," I frown.

"And yet, I assert it as an irrefutable truth," Dr. Carson says. "When a man tells his wife he'll beat their child if she doesn't listen to him, at no point is the woman abusing her child. She is not at fault. That remains true no matter how you extend the consequences, no matter how many victims your abuser threatens you with. I will not budge on this point."

The Goddess laughs, seeming overjoyed by this argument. By all means, I should believe it! How convenient for Her if I do! I should accept no responsibility, suffer no remorse, and let the world end! Bravo, Doctor Carson, for your hand in ending it!

"...Regardless of whether or not it's her fault, I think there's a lot of nuance in what the woman should do in that situation," I frown. "If you want to make the argument that she should assert herself, allow her child to be hurt, and protect her own well-being… well, I don't like that conclusion, but there are ways I wouldn't hate it. I think it's evil to not help the child in that situation, but against a human there are often other options, especially if she can seek help from others. But sometimes, there are no such options available. And I certainly have no methods to enforce justice on the Goddess."

No, more than that. There is no way to define justice against the Goddess. What is fair treatment, to a being without peers or consequences? What is rightness of action, to a being that can know the deepest truths of our souls and feel not a shred of empathy? Sure, I could give whatever answers I want. I could claim that this is right and good, that is suitable punishment for Her wrongdoing. But it would be nothing but a personal fantasy. A laughable attempt to assert my opinion on something that is beyond the need to care about it.

It would be as if I killed an anthill for being too close to my house, and the ants tried to bring me to justice.

"Rather than thinking of Her like a person," I continue, "it's probably better to consider Her an inescapable force of nature. A hurricane is coming, and I can either retreat from it or stay behind to evacuate countless others. The right thing to do is obvious in that kind of situation, isn't it?"

"Yes, and it is to get yourself to safety," Dr. Carson insists. "No one is expected to let themselves be killed by a hurricane."

"...Maybe it's not an expectation, but we still consider it noble to do so," I counter. "It's still a greater act of good than fleeing to save yourself, even if we consider that acceptable."

"Hannah, even if that meant you should sacrifice yourself—which I do not believe it does—the Goddess isn't a force of nature. She is a person. She intends Her actions, and acts on them under Her own volition. You do not need to assume responsibility for the atrocities She commits!"

"...That's exactly the sort of thing She'd want you to tell me," I say quietly. "Dr. Carson… what did the two of you talk about?"

Aww, do I feel left out? I don't need to worry. I'm still Her favorite.

"...You didn't hear any of that?" Dr. Carson frowns. "But I thought… okay. I see. It was a mistake for me to bring Her into the conversation without establishing more rules first. I'm sorry, Hannah. From now on, I'd like to propose that if She says anything to me, I'll repeat it for you, and if She says anything to you, you'll repeat it for me. Do you agree that would help?"

The Goddess clicks Her tongue in irritation, a pouting expression like I'd make when a handheld game runs out of batteries.

"...Well, She seems to think it'll be less fun if we do things that way, so I'm all for it," I answer.

"You shouldn't base your decisions on what She does or does not seem to want," Dr. Carson admonishes gently. "You are in control here, Hannah. Do you agree that it would help?"

I'm not in control here. I'll never be in control here. But I nod anyway.

"...Yes. I think it would help."

"Alright," Dr. Carson nods. "The Goddess and I spoke about Her, mostly. Her goals, Her desires, Her intentions. She seemed to quite enjoy picking at my insecurities throughout the conversation, taking every opportunity to make the conversation a blow to my self-esteem. If this is what you have been dealing with since the start of all this, you have nothing but my highest respect."

"You get used to Her," I mutter. "...No, that's a lie. You don't. But you learn to deal with it, and again: that's all we can do. The Goddess put a bomb inside me. It doesn't matter if it's my fault or not that it'll go off. What matters are the people it's going to kill, and the cliff I could jump off to save them. Don't tell me that isn't the right thing to do. You're wrong."

The question is not and has never been 'what is the right thing to do?' The question was always 'am I good enough to do it?' And I already know the Goddess' answer. Can I be better than that? Can I? That's what I need to know.

"...Maybe I am, Hannah," Dr. Carson says sadly. "Maybe I am wrong. This is so much bigger, so much more frightening than anything I've ever had to deal with in my entire life. But still, it goes against everything I am to tell an eighteen-year-old girl to commit suicide to escape her abuser. If the choice is between encouraging that and ending the world, then damn the world."

I can't look her in the eyes. Damn you, Dr. Carson, for saying what I wanted to hear.

"...But," she continues, "I believe that is not the only true option."

Hope. It blossoms up inside me, but I ruthlessly crush it back down. It's way too early for that.

"What makes you say that?" I ask. "My magic will inevitably combine the two worlds, catastrophically damaging both. I have to either die, or find a way to stop a spell designed to be unstoppable by the creator of all magic. That isn't an achievable task."

"Not for you, no. Only the Goddess can decide to enact Her cruelty or not. What you can do is find ways to minimize the impact. Something doesn't need to be your fault in order to extend a hand in response to it. If you wish to help, then help. Do what you can to prepare people for what will happen, and do what you can to assist people after it does."

I stare at her in disbelief, wanting her to be right but hating her for suggesting it. Telling me to not accept responsibility? Telling me it's okay to let billions of people die when I could have stopped it? It's disgusting to me. It goes against everything I believe to be right.

"Why would you say that?" I ask. "Why? Why would you ever think it's okay to throw away that many lives? Fault, responsibility, none of those things matter. What matters is that I can save them, or I can not save them."

And the Founder was right. If I don't kill myself in time, I won't want to live with the immortality I end up with.

"Because," Dr. Carson says, "I am your therapist. My job is not to save the world, it is to help you. And I…"

She cuts herself off, a pained look flashing over her face before she continues.

"...I understand that this is beyond me. Beyond any of us. So if you are to be caught in the sick game of a monster I cannot save you from, Hannah, then I will at the very least do everything I can to help you find peace with it. This isn't your fault. This isn't your responsibility. And that does matter. You are allowed to choose to be happy. That is… maybe not the best thing I could say, from the perspective of the world. But it is the only thing I can say, from the perspective of your therapist."

The Goddess grins. She had not expected such a stalwart ally in Dr. Carson.

"...Do not mistake me, you witless thing," Dr. Carson scowls. "If a being as old as you still lacks even the maturity of a child, of course it is beyond any human to teach you."

Wh… what did she say? An instinctive terror snaps through my spine, leaving me rigid as the the pressure of the Goddess' anger suffocates the room. She would dare? She would dare? Does Dr. Carson have any idea the suffering the Goddess could wreak upon her for those foolish words?

I'm not alone in feeling the weight of Her power. I imagine, in fact, that Dr. Carson is feeling it quite worse. But she doesn't even flinch, speaking in the same even voice she addresses me with during the worst of my panic attacks.

"And what rules have I broken," Dr. Carson asks, "by speaking the truth?"

The Goddess screams, leaving my mind ringing in agony, but the pressure then vanishes. She's gone, having left in a huff. Having insisted she would not rise to the bait of a mere human. But I know. The tears fall down my face, and I know.

"...She's going to hurt you," I cry. "You shouldn't have done that, Dr. Carson. You shouldn't have done that."

"She's just a bully with too much power," Dr. Carson says. "And we don't bow to bullies in this office, Hannah. Stay alive, look for a way to save the world if you want to, and please—if you ever feel like death is the only way out, call me. Please, Hannah."

I wiggle my clawed toes, unable to look at her.

"...I still think you're wrong, Dr. Carson," I tell her. "But thank you. I'll… I'll do what I can. Is it alright if I leave early?"

"That… is up to you," Dr. Carson frowns, clearly not thinking it's a good idea.

"Thanks," I say, slowly getting to my feet. "I just… I appreciate it. Really. But I'm not in shock anymore, and I think I just need to go… do something."

I look down at myself, rolling my shoulders and flexing the extra pair of arms beneath them. They're here. It's… objectively not a good thing, but I can't help but be happy about it anyway. Not that I can really take any time to appreciate it; even if it won't affect how much time actually passes before I wake up back on treeside, I'm in a hurry to sleep and get to rescuing Ida. I just need to figure out if there's anything I should bring treeside to make things easier.

I head down the elevator and walk out of the big, gray, rectangular building Dr. Carson's office resides in, pulling out my phone to text my parents not to pick me up. Shortly afterwards, though, I get a text that isn't from my parents at all. It's from Autumn.

Hey there are like three people I don't know at my front door and they aren't leaving when I don't answer. I think they might be armed.

Oh. Oh no. I start to run.

I'm on my way, I text back. Have you called the police?

Jet says to never call the police.

Uh. Well, I can understand why Jet would feel that way, but isn't this sort of the exact situation the police are for? …No, who am I kidding. They were mostly just a nuisance when I got attacked. It might be smart to call an ambulance, though.

Can you hide inside your spell? I ask.

Yeah, I already am, she confirms. I think I'll be fine. They can't touch me if they don't have souls.

It's very unlikely, but what's your plan if they do have souls? I ask.

Texting you and hoping you get here in time, she answers.

Well, turdbiscuits. It just figures this kind of thing would happen today. I guess before I can rush back to rescue Ida I have to rush over and rescue Alma first. It's a long way to Alma's house from here, but I feel even stronger and faster than I did before. My limbs are fully developed, my translucent pseudo-hair is grown out to the length of my old hair, my eyes are all working and my body just feels… right. I think I might be complete on this side of things.

Which means the moment my treeside body finishes growing, it's all over. If this becomes a fight… it can't be one I'll have to heal from. I can't take any risks.

But that's doable.

I find somewhere out-of-the-way near Autumn's house to take a deep breath and step into 4D space, letting my clothes drop to the ground before hiding them in a bush. Suddenly stripping naked in public is a very strange and uncomfortable experience, but not quite as much as I expected it to be. I guess it makes sense; I'm full to the brim with whatever my alien equivalent of adrenaline is, and up until literally yesterday I've always been naked treeside. And perhaps more importantly, as long as I keep my bits in the fourth dimension, nobody can actually see them anyway.

Stepping completely into the fourth dimension earthside like this is an odd experience. I didn't notice it much before, but my body feels a lot lighter all of a sudden, like I'm on the moon. …Or what I would imagine the moon to be like, I guess. There still seems to be gravity here, but it's a lot lighter, and I’m not really sure what the source of the gravity is. After all, I have to keep at least the underside of my feet in 3D space or I'll just fall right through the ground.

Which means I'm not falling towards the ground. So… what would I be falling towards?

…I don't have time to be thinking about this right now. I can worry about gravity and nudity and all that stuff later. Right now, I have to make sure Autumn is okay. I rush the rest of the way to her house, ignoring the very physicality of anything that happens to be in my way. I can simply go around it, in a straight line.

When I get close enough to Autumn's house, I spot the three armed men with my spatial sense, standing at the doorway and smashing their thumb into the doorbell every fifteen seconds or so. They are indeed armed, but the guns are still in their concealed holsters and the group isn't doing anything obviously aggressive. …They are prepared to, though. Their nearby truck has multiple jugs of kerosene and a collection of matches, which doesn't exactly give me confidence in their intent to stay peaceful. Still, I may as well try to scare them off first. It's not like they can shoot me.

"Hey," I whisper to one of them, barely peeking enough of my face into 3D space to talk and breathe. "This is private property."

He swears and twists around looking for me, and when his buddies turn to check what's going on I put a blade-limb in front of each of their necks. No Spacial Rend yet, just an obvious threat. They freeze.

"It's private property," I repeat. "Leave. Now."

My limbs are gone from view a moment later, but they take the hint and run back to their truck, driving off for now. Frowning, I let them go, stepping into Autumn's house and doing my best to hold my hands out in front of me so I don't bonk my nose directly into her spell.

"Alma, it's me!" I shout for her. "I scared them off! You okay?"

She doesn't answer, but that's not entirely unexpected if she's holed up in her spell. I spot her with my spatial sense pretty fast, and manage to knock on the outside of her spell until I find a door, letting myself in.

"Alma!" I greet her again. "Hey! I got the guys to run off."

"Oh gosh, thank you!" she sighs, wandering towards me through her house until we're in the same soul-room and she can finally see me. "Do you think they actually… um. Why are you just a floating face?"

"Because I'm naked," I answer.

"Why… why are you naked?" she asks, blushing slightly.

"Because clothing isn't fourth-dimensional and I didn't wanna get shot," I answer.

"...Oh," she mutters, blushing slightly. "So.. they did have guns?"

"Yeah, they were fully prepared for both a firefight and for arson. Kerosene in the truck. They might come back later. Does your spell protect you from fires?"

Her eyes widen like adorable saucers, causing an unpleasant mix of attraction and guilt to flutter around in my chest.

"I… I don't know. I've never tried it. It might keep the fire completely away from me, or it might just make the fire invisible as it burns down everything around me. I think either way it wouldn't burn me?"

"I'm immune to fire as far as I know, but I still have to breathe," I tell her. "You might be in a similar boat unless your spell produces its own oxygen."

She pales a little.

"S-so let's just not find out, shall we?" I follow up, quickly flashing what I hope is an encouraging smile. "I'm sort of, uh, temporarily unlinked from everything important that's happening to me. If you want me to hang around and help keep your house safe, I can."

"I-I, um, is that alright?" Alma stammers. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

I wince. That's… a loaded question. Is it a good idea to hang out in the house of the ex-girlfriend I fucked up beyond recognition?

"...No, I'm not sure at all," I answer. "That's why it's just an offer. I'll do whatever you think is best."

She hesitates a bit, carefully stepping past me to head out the door to her spell and end the effect.

"Let's, um… you can stay here for now," she says hesitantly. "And then when Jet shows up, we can just ask them."

I blink. Huh. She's… really turned around on Jet quickly, hasn't she? Very quickly.

"Sure, if that's what you want," I nod. "But you can tell me to leave whenever, alright?"

"Um, a-alright. But, uh, do you think it would be okay if you left to put clothes back on and came back…?"

Oh. Yeah. That'd make sense.

"Sure, I'll be right back."

I pop my head back into 4D space with the rest of me and run back to where I stashed my clothes, holding them up in the air with my hands and just kind of phasing back into them piece by piece so that nobody could sneak a peek even if they happened to be looking. Then a quick Refresh gets all the dirt and leaves off of them, letting me return to Alma's place sparkly clean and fully decent. I knock on the door and she quickly lets me inside, fidgeting awkwardly. Neither of us have anything to say, so the silence only gets louder.

"So, uh—"

"Did you, um—"

We both cut off the moment we try to start, anxiously gesticulating at each other to be the one to speak first.

"Go ahead," I manage to win out, a blush making my already-dark cheeks far darker.

"I, um, I wanted to ask if the thing you texted about earlier today went alright," Alma says.

I freeze, trying and comprehensively failing to keep my emotions off my face.

"...That bad?" Alma grimaces. "Sorry. I should have been there. Is everyone alright?"

"What?" I blink. "Oh, no Alma, everyone is fine, I promise. We won the fight. Ida might have gotten teleported somewhere bad that might be difficult for us to retrieve her from, but… we're okay. Everyone is… okay."

Except for the fact that the world is going to end if I don't kill myself. That's not okay. But y'know, besides that, everything went great!

"...What's the matter, then?" Alma asks, not buying my omission for a second. Ugh.

"A lot, honestly," I frown. "A lot of really bad stuff. It's not… I don't really want to get into it. But it isn't anything you need to feel bad about, I promise. You guys don't want to be part of this drama, and I don't blame you. I'm kind of jealous, honestly!"

I try to laugh but it only seems to make Alma more concerned. She sits down on her couch and I sit in an armchair across from her as tail-Jet winds around her waist onto her lap. Alma actually starts petting her, running her fingers over the sharp-looking scales and occasionally digging her claws underneath them to the tail's obvious satisfaction. It's like she's petting a cat, except it's part of her own body.

"I've missed you a lot, you know," Alma says. "Jet and my therapist both agree that it isn't healthy, but I'm just not a very healthy person, I guess."

"...Unhealthy, huh?" I repeat sadly.

"I mean, if you want to get technical my therapist really emphasizes that I should let myself feel whatever it is that I feel and not be guilty about it, but it's obvious she means it in a 'please do not develop a different complex while we are pulling Hannah out of your head' way. She's trying to be nice about it, but I think she considers what you did to us to be even more of a problem than Jet ever did."

"Um, how are things between you and Jet nowadays, anyway?" I ask, selfishly wanting the conversation to be literally anything other than what it currently is.

"Better," Alma admits. "A lot better. It still freaks me out that I don't get to be in control of my body all the time, but… you were right. Talking to Jet helps a lot. They're… actually really cool, when you get to know them."

…Is she blushing a little? Y'know what, it's not my business.

"I'm glad to hear that," I tell her. "I think they're pretty cool, myself."

"Did you know that Jet has all the same memories I do from before we split?" she asks. "We talked about it, finally. We always assumed I was the original because I'm more like how we used to be, but I'm not really sure anymore. Does being less different mean I'm more real? Aren't people supposed to change? How do I know this is really my body, and not theirs?"

She continues scratching her tail, silently stretching out one wing and shaking a cramp out of it before re-folding it over her shoulder.

"Maybe there isn't an 'original' Autumn," Alma concludes. "Maybe we're just… us."

I smile softly, not needing to fake it for the first time today. I'm wholeheartedly glad that two of my friends—however estranged from me by my actions—now care for each other in ways I no longer can. I'm happy, very happy, that I can trust Alma and Jet will be alright.

"Maybe so," I agree, and I watch with fascination as Alma's ears start to slowly perk up, her tail tightens its grip around her waist, and her wings slide off her shoulders, smooth and gradual until at some point, Alma isn't Alma anymore at all.

Jet blinks and slowly looks up at me, her Alma-tail nipping at her fingers when the confusion makes her stop petting it. Jet briefly glances down to flick Alma in annoyance and lock eyes with me, a scowl deep on her face.

"...What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Alma texted me because there were people with guns sniffing around your porch and looking for trouble," I answer. "We're worried they might come back, but she wanted your input on whether or not I should stick around."

"...What did they do, exactly?"

I explain the situation to her and she scowls even deeper, nodding along with my assessment that they're likely to return.

"We definitely shouldn't assume they won't," Jet agrees. "They'll probably strike at night, maybe even with way more people. If they just had guns I'd cast my spell and walk away, but… well, I can't really afford to fix my dad's house if it burns down, and I'm sure our insurance will find a way to not pay us a cent, so… yeah. I guess I could use your help."

"I won't let you down!" I promise, shooting her a clawed thumbs-up.

"I appreciate that," Jet says flatly. "Want some eggs?"

I blink, realizing suddenly that I haven't eaten on Earth since breakfast. I'm really hungry.

"Sure, that would be great!"

It's quiet and awkward, but we manage to let the hours creak by, with Jet doing homework and me mostly poking around on my phone. Apparently, Jet doesn't expect her dad to be home tonight, for reasons she wouldn't elaborate on. I guess that's lucky timing, and I'll choose to not be suspicious of it simply because everything else about this situation could not possibly be less lucky.

It's barely even midnight when I notice the trucks starting to pull up in front of Autumn's house. Impatient butt biscuits, aren't they?

"Apparently they've decided that if one shotgun can't kill me, ten will probably do the trick," I comment dryly to Jet, standing up to stretch.

"Uh, I take it they're here, then?" Jet blinks. "Okay. Well… will that kill you?"

"Nah, not if I get naked."

"...What? No, wait, first of all, are they too close for me to incant something safely?"

I glance over and shrug.

"No, you should be good to speak a spell. They shouldn't be able to hear the Goddess from here. But you don't really need to do anything. I told them they weren't welcome, and now they're coming back with even more weapons. The moment they walk onto your property armed, I can just stab them."

Honestly, maybe causing the apocalypse wouldn't even be that bad if I could guarantee only assholes like these actually died. …No, wait, what am I thinking? That's not how this works.

"Please don't actually kill anyone on my property," Jet grunts. "I just want them to not damage our house. I'm Not Going To Let You Screw This Up Anymore."

Collecting in motes of ethereal light, Alma appears as a glowing ghost as Jet's tail goes limp. She looks around in surprise, seeming a lot more comfortable as a disembodied spirit than she was the first time I saw this.

"...Woah, what time is it?" she asks. "It's already dark. Are those guys back?"

"Yeah," Jet nods. "It's twelve-oh-eight, and Hannah says there's… ten guys?"

"Ten guys with shotguns," I correct. "Twelve guys total."

"That many," Jet nods. "I didn't wanna jump right to violence, so I was hoping you'd try to talk to them first? Y'know, since you can't be hit like this and Hannah's negotiation tactics apparently involve knives to the throat."

Hey! Those were my intimidation tactics! Totally different.

"You summoned me here just to do stuff for you?" Alma pouts, crossing her arms. "After spending the whole night without me?"

"...The spell is tiring and I was expecting to need you for this," Jet answers. "Sorry."

"I don't really see how you expect me to talk them down," Alma continues to protest. "They're just going to try to shoot me, it's obviously what they came here to do."

"Probably," Jet agrees, "but if they fire first, go ahead and beat them up like I showed you. It'll be good practice."

Huh? Beat them up? Isn't Alma intangible like this?

"Well… okay," Alma says magnanimously. "I Guess I Can Cooperate, Just This Once."

My eyes widen as the illusory Alma somehow speaks a spell, her Barrier magic mixing in with the Pneuma and Light that Jet used to summon her in the first place. Slowly, she floats down to the ground, her clawed toes clicking in contact with it. Contact! Alma can make contact!

I can't help it; I reach out and poke her arm for confirmation, and holy crap! I make contact! It doesn't feel like skin, though, and my spatial sense confirms it: she doesn't have a body like this, not really. It's just her Barrier magic giving magical physicality to the form Jet's spell created for her, like filling in the outlines. Alma herself doesn't even seem to notice my touch… but in this situation, that might be exactly what we need. Enough bullets would absolutely ravage Alma's actual body, even with her natural resistance to Motion, but against a pure Barrier magic projection they may as well be silly string.

"Alright then," Alma says, heading for the front door and pretending to crack knuckles that don't actually have joints. "Time to toss these racists off my lawn."

I gape as I watch her go, turning to Jet when the door clicks closed again behind her. I've never seen Alma act like that in my life!

"Therapy and communication have been helping, finally," Jet shrugs.

"Y-yeah!" I agree. "I guess so!"

"Also," she continues, "invincibility has been really good for her self-esteem."

When the gunshots and laughter start, I can't say I have it in me to disagree.