Fractica looked as if it had momentarily forgotten how to walk. Raising her arms, Arienne then shouted not in a human language but in the wail of sorcery, and a ball of Power so intense that shecould not hold it in her mouth for longer than a moment exploded from her.
One of the pillars that had stood for a hundred years began to lean over, falling directly toward Fractica, as it failed to withstand the test of time imagined by Arienne. Fractica tried to block the pillar by extending scores of arms against it—but by the time it did so, another pillar already began falling toward Fractica too.
The once beautiful marble pillar smashed into Fractica’s side. The sound of rock striking iron was earsplitting, and the many rusted legs tried to maintain balance even as another pillar fell, shattering over the Power generator before the echoes of the first fall had even faded away and filling the space with stone dust.
Breathing deeply, Arienne wiped the blood from her nose and lips with her sleeve. Bits of stone fell and Fractica struggled in vain under the weight of the pillars. The generator thumped even louder. A Class 3 generator would have had more than enough Power to survive the destruction, but Arienne counted on the frailty of the old and rusted body it animated. If Fractica managed to rise again, there was nowhere for her to run—the spiral staircase leading to the generator chamber, already crumbling to pieces during her climb, was surely finished now from the shock of the fallen pillars.
Following the last trace of the string of starlight, Arienne crept into the debris where Fractica lay stuck, flailing about like a bird that had fallen from the sky and was unable to take flight. Its arms still darted threateningly like vipers, but the generator was no longer a threat.
Arienne bent over and carefully lifted the starlight string withher hands. No visions this time. It was the visualization of the supply of Power Fractica had been using to guard the catacombs of Danras from Eldred, an imaginary string Arienne now wound around each of her hands.
Fractica was wrecked, not just the trash-covered frame but the Power generator itself. She could see violet smoke seeping out of its body like intermittent coughs, and could feel the string of starlight dimming.
“Fractica,” she said in a quiet voice.
Power generators were supposed to be mere energy sources, but here was Fractica behaving like an animal that had lost its mind. But if it truly had lost its mind, there had to be a reason—and there had to be a “mind” to lose in the first place. As Eldred had, maybe Fractica somehow retained its memories or consciousness from its life. If so, Arienne was going to find out.
Fractica’s broken body puffed another spout of smoke. The string in Arienne’s hands fluttered like a dying butterfly. Fractica could go silent any moment.
Gripping the starlight string, Arienne thought back to what happened in Arland’s volcano, summoning as much rich detail as she could remember. Eldred had stepped out of the room in her mind and entered the mind of the dragon. So, if Eldred could enter Arland’s dragon, then Arienne might be able to enter Fractica. Eldred had once said the dragon was a living Power generator after all…
“Fractica.”
This time, Arienne said it louder and clearer. The string in her hands became warmer. Arienne repeated the long spell Eldred had chanted in the volcano. She didn’t remember it precisely, nordid she understand how it worked. But she had faith that it was possible, and that faith was enough for her imagination—and her imagination could make things real.
Arienne was standing in a room. No, not a room—the walls were of cloth-thin leather and they moved a little in the wind. This was a large tent, but there was no one inside. A fire burned in a stove, and there was a scent like flowers. She had never been here before, but it felt strangely familiar.
“When Eldred did it, a portal appeared in the air… Noam?”
“Is it… is it over?” answered Noam from within her room.
“Yes, it’s over. You don’t have to worry anymore. Everything is fine in there, right? What do you see out the window?”
“Are we… inside a tent? Where are we?”
“We’re inside Fractica’s mind.”
“It looks like the tents that the herders of Danras used to have.”
That was why everything in here was so familiar—the chair and table and bedding. They were the same style as the furniture in the first house she had entered upon arriving in Danras, except these weren’t melted…
“Was Fractica a Mersian in life?” Arienne asked Noam.
“No, it can’t be. It was created before Mersia was annexed. The Grand Inquisitor had brought Fractica to Danras.”
The entry flap fluttered behind her. Arienne spun around at the sound. There stood a young man with a boyish face. His thin legs and arms were reinforced with a metal frame, which softly glowed violet. Arienne took a step back.
The man blinked, staring at her. He didn’t say a word. His eyes were unfocused, and like Noam used to be, his outlines were blurry.
Hesitant, Arienne decided to break the silence.
“Who are you?”
The man stared into space for a moment before giving his answer, as if summoning a very old memory.
“… Lysandros. Inquisitor… of the Imperial Office of Truth.”
24
