Mal’s smirk never faltered. “Deal.”
He pointed his finger at her. Maeve lowered her mental shields, allowing him to enter her mind, and prayed she wasn’t making a terrible mistake.
No light emitted from the tip of his finger.
The Dueling Hall disappeared and she was watching her father demonstrate a series of spells in his study at Sinclair Estates. She was only three. Ambrose was excitedly showing her hand motions and making Maeve giggle with gold sparks.
“Is that your father?” Asked Mal’s voice.
“Yes,” said Maeve.
He appeared at her side. “You aren’t even trying to force me out.”
“I have no idea how to do that,” said Maeve plainly.
Her father and three-year-old self disintegrated, and she was standing in the Dueling Hall at Vaukore once more.
“That was a real memory,” said Mal with a slight disappointment. “Again. This time show me something false. I want to see these perfect faux memories you boast about.”
“I do not boast-”
But Mal ignored her. He dove back into her mind, her shields still completely unprotected. He ran through thoughts it seemed. Many things, not all of them memories, flashed before her eyes.
She flung the first thing that came to mind out before them: her charms test from the previous morning. Only the room was empty, save for a giant oversized clock and a roll of parchment so long one would assume she had been writing for days without ceasing. The clock ticked away as the fake Maeve wrote hastily.
It was an odd sight. Unrealistic, but based in truth, as all false memories were.
“Finally,” said Mal, his voice echoing across her mind. He appeared at her side, observing the fake Maeve as she scribbled away.
Maeve gathered herself, feeling a boost of confidence. “Perhaps we can change it up?” She said, playfully, thrilled to be in control for once.
The scene before them disappeared and was replaced by the Dueling Hall at Vaukore, a perfect replica with a Maeve and Mal standing and dueling one another.
The fake Maeve hit the fake Mal with a hefty curse, bringing him to the floor in tears. Maeve stood victorious over the crying fake Mal.
“It looks completely real,” said the real Mal, mesmerized.
Maeve smiled.
Her stomach flipped as Mal pulled out of her mind. She was dizzy and took a knee to the floor as the room spun.
“That’s incredibly impressive,” said Mal, striding towards her.
Maeve took a deep breath and relished his praise. “Thank you.”
“Could you, hypothetically speaking, place that memory inside my head, causing me to think it happened like that?”
“Yes,” said Maeve. “But I would just modify your memory seamlessly to appear the false way I want, not have to implant an entire false memory. Though, that is also doable. Say, for example, you were never here, and I wanted you to believe you were. But that is…advanced and I don’t know that I could-”
“This is what you showcased at the Orators Office this summer? The Headmasters have seen you do this? The Orator’s Office knows you can do this?”
Maeve nodded. “And more so, break other’s false memories as well. ”
“You learned to do that first didn’t you?”
“Yes. I studied them until I knew where all the flaws typically were, which enabled me to perfect my own. Of course, there’s many factors still. You were viewing my false memories live. They’re even stronger when perfected from the outside.”
“Using an anamnesis?”
