30.7

Chapter 30.7: Taylor was immersed in a disorienting darkness, surrounded by a multitude of survivors, all of whom felt like strangers, their gazes hostile. Unable to recognize anyone, she felt a building paranoia, the weight of their stares crushing her. Every individual was a potential threat, capable of inflicting harm. This wasn’t the familiar chaos of battle, but a silent, ominous threat. She was the next target, the one that had to be eliminated for the perceived peace to be achieved.

She could still analyze, form strategies, but her ability to connect with people was gone. Conflict was familiar, a comfort in the face of paralysis. The singing in the background was a brief respite, a shared narrative of the battle’s conclusion, but the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken agreement: Taylor was the next threat.

As she readied herself for a fight, she realized her capabilities were limited, her mind altered. Conflict was the only way she could function, a stark contrast to the terrifying prospect of paralysis. With her swarm informing her of her knife’s location, she observed a group of tinkers entering the world. Everyone was a potential enemy, capable of scheming, of taking her power.

Her hand clenched, she struggled to understand why she’d pushed away her allies. A small, reassuring voice tried to coax her, but it was insignificant compared to the threats arrayed against her. She was prey, frozen, smallness her only defense. Moving her clairvoyant’s hand, she silenced the singing, the sudden quiet stark in the city’s emptiness.

The noises of her swarm were an island of familiarity in a hostile sea. A cry broke the spell, followed by others, a chaotic mix of emotions, powers unleashed but undirected. This was expected, the species’ way, lessons learned from incoherent memories. She moved, drawing attention, her swarm shifting to protect her as the strangers prepared for a fight.

This was familiar, natural for what she’d become. They were strategizing, but she didn’t need to; her side was perfectly coordinated. Everyone was a potential enemy, and she’d treat them as such, eliminating the biggest threats to systematically control and pacify everyone present. It wasn’t calming, but it reassured. Peace was deserved after everything she’d sacrificed.

A man pushed through the crowd, his voice soothing, stopping at the circle’s edge. Others were tense, recognizing him, not liking him. He gestured, indicating he had a means of communicating with her, but it wasn’t entirely trustworthy. He sent an underling into her reach, a boy with a shaved head, but her power revealed his true form, a taller, bearded man loaded with trinkets, a power-granter.

He was offering to let her use his power on herself, a chance to communicate, to fix something. She moved, cutting a girl who materialized before her, controlling her to hold a knife to her own throat, a deterrent to her allies. She was left panting, her hand trembling. The man stood before her, still in her control. A trap, likely, but the offer was tempting.

She had him extend his hands, then cut him, the slashes wild and frenzied. A barrier appeared, protecting him, and people reacted, her swarm buried in crystals. She stopped, realizing the reactions extended beyond the immediate group, something was wrong. In the riot, there was no blood, no death, only the hands and arm she’d cut were bleeding.

People were embracing, but bones weren’t breaking, powers weren’t directed at anyone, tears accompanied smiles. She hadn’t anticipated this many people, too many unfamiliar powers. Her senses were more disabled than she thought, unable to make sense of the chaos beyond her swarm, barely able to grasp what was happening within it.

She moved, supported by two individuals, the clairvoyant strapped to her shoulder. She saw the forcefield woman in the crowd, her swarm attacking, but she moved over the forcefield, landing on the other side. She needed to escape, to analyze, to rebuild her knowledge base, then she could take control, eliminate the problematic elements, and achieve peace.

A mission, she functioned best with one. She moved her swarm, half of the original sixteen, as bodyguards, protection, tools. She saw faces in the crowd, young women riding a monster, strangely important, potential threats. They held a chain, a black tube with a red button, increasing her trepidation. She took to the air, encountering the winged woman, her pursuers backing off.

Fear, different from the usual, threatened to throw her off course. She changed course, a small army pursuing her, blocking them with forcefields, directing ranged fire their way. A man with skeletal bat wings intercepted her, but a forcefield through one wing gave her an opportunity. The path of least resistance led to a young blond girl, tears in her eyes, others stopping, not wanting to interfere.

She met the girl’s eyes, saw three shadows form around her. Her swarm gathered, and as the girl passed into her range, control slipped to one of her shadows, a robed man with nails through his hands. The other two, a man with many powers and a thin man who made doorways. The girl touched her cheek, and Taylor flinched away, knife in hand.

The girl bowed, stepping away, and Taylor felt a moment of not-fear, a balking from her passenger. Why would it care? The girl spoke, words incomprehensible, then opened a doorway, inviting her through. Suspicion, worlds full of enemies, but also that not-fear sensation. The others were closing in, contradictions, opposing forces, threatening her to stay or go.

She stared at the portal, a point of no return. -Again, that dissonance, distracting. She moved towards it, the trepidation halting her. She closed her eyes, relaxed, forgetting the mission, the goal. Shakiness, unsteadiness. W-wwha- ddo y-y-you wwwant ? Her control was slipping, the others descending. She reasserted control.

Again, she tried to let her passenger take over, and again, the others descended, the forcefield woman staying put this time. She let them drift away, the others backing off, latent aggression dissipating. Some were still angry, the woman in blue furious but with less backup. A good move for the short term, puzzling but good.

She’d have a harder time taking control in the long term, but survival was okay. The swarm touched ground, the healer placed next to a living pool of flesh, others indiscriminately in the crowd. She turned to go, far less resistance. Autopilot took over the clairvoyant’s focus, showing her faces, a blond girl, a girl with brown-red hair, the girl with the horned mask.

Others, a red-haired girl in another world, a girl standing in the rain. She wrested control back, easier this time, like it was weaker with each action. She passed through the threshold, feeling that discomfort again. A learning process, adjusting, adapting, learning what it wanted. Sacrifices in the short term for a surer footing, a gamble.

She broke contact, the door closing behind her.

■

Taylor opened her eyes to a too-bright moon, muscles cramping, the world swaying. Hungry, after a day or two. The cocking of a gun. She waited, catching her breath, then turned to see a woman in a white dress shirt and suit pants, a revolver in hand. No fear from her passenger, just the opposite.

The woman spoke, words nonsensical but understandable. “ You knew it would come to this. “ Taylor stared, recognizing their past encounters, her absolute losses. If they fought, she’d lose again. A feeling of defeat. The woman offered water, which Taylor accepted greedily.

“ What you are, you can’t be allowed to carry on.  You don’t quite remember, but you’ve dealt with some who were like you.  The Echidna, the Faerie Queen.  You saw the Ash Beast.” Taylor noted that hearing those names made her feel shadows of feelings. The woman continued “ We walked very similar roads.  We’ve done ugly things for a greater good. “

Taylor started to speak, then stopped, confused. The woman urged her on. “You still do ug-ly things.  I saw you with T-teacher.  You work with him now.  As before, still do now.” The woman wasn’t sure, mentioning a lack of mission, hoping not to lose sight of the little things, planning to do things without help in the future.

Taylor stared at her knees, sore from her unconscious posture. The woman was talking about the future, and Taylor didn’t have one. The woman asked if it was worth it, if Taylor would do it all over again, knowing she’d end up at gunpoint. Taylor admitted that somewhere along the way, it became no, though she didn’t regret it, it had to be done to save lives.

The woman smiled, saying it’s always about the people. Taylor clarified, not about betting on the wrong horse, but about giving too much power to the wrong people, to bullies. The woman was surprised, noting it didn’t apply to Scion. Taylor confirmed, fighting him was always more about them than about him.

The woman noted the irony, the one who played the biggest role in stopping him didn’t give him a second thought. Taylor didn’t respond, feeling it would be rude. She took another gulp of water, reminded of home, not long after it stopped being home. Was it different things to the two biggest pieces of her?

The woman mentioned the amnesty offered to all but a few, the Faerie Queen brought in. She’d been questioned about Taylor, and the woman had the transcription. She asked if the word ‘anchor’ meant anything to Taylor, who nodded. Asked what Taylor picked in the end, but Taylor found only blanks.

The woman noted the Faerie Queen went to great lengths to protect Taylor, seeing herself in Taylor, hoping she’d found herself, a kindred spirit. Maybe that’s why she balked at the end, seeing Taylor, realizing she’d compromised too much, doing something honest, maybe inspired by Taylor.

The woman asked if Taylor was honest enough to inspire that, the most important question of the night. Taylor had started her career on a lie, ended it by betraying what she stood for. The woman believed Taylor could answer, more lucid now. Taylor admitted talking helped.

The woman asked if Taylor was really a monster, a warlord, an alien administrator, a vicious killer, a bully, or a hero. Did the good intentions win out? Was it Glaistig Uaine’s strength or Taylor’s that held her back from saving Scion? Taylor wondered why it mattered.

The woman believed Taylor had a chance to come back, partly dependent on her, partly on Taylor winning the fight against the administrator. Taylor felt a chill, both her and her passenger. She opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t. Didn’t deserve to. The woman said she got the answer herself.

Taylor looked up, eyes wet, at the vast universe. We’re s- so very small, in the end. The first bullet hit her from behind, the second before she could fall, before any pain.