Intense Struggle! (Round 7 - The Database)

She awoke on a stiff mattress, in a dusty disused room. Hazy violet light filtered in through half closed blinds, not so much illuminating the room as draping it with a feeling of dim unease. Groggily she pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked around the room. The furniture was all old dark wood, sturdily built and now wreathed in dust and cobwebs. It was a small room, just enough space for a wardrobe, a desk and chair, a dresser table with fold out mirror (shattered) and the bed with its bare mattress upon which she was sat.

“Hello?” she called.

A long moment of silence, and then when she'd been expecting no response a faint crackling and a voice: “Greetings, my beloved daughter.”

She awoke in a large glass chamber, which itself was in an enormous industrial looking room. Seven other glass chambers, each of which contained a being, were arranged in a circle to face a shadowed figure sat amongst complex looking machinery.

“Greetings. I am known as the Monitor,” the figure said simply. “I have brought you here for a simple purpose: to battle each other to the death. I am very interested in the data such a battle will produce.”

She was a humanoid being made from a pale pink and slightly shimmering substance known as mana. She was, what was known in her world as, a nymph; a magical construct conjured by elaborate ritual. The purpose of nymphs, usually, is to spread love and she was no exception.  Her life before now had been a barren existence, devoid of friends or companions. Her conjurer had died in the expending of energy required to create her and she’d found herself without a place or purpose in the world. But even so she still resented being snatched out of it by the figure before her, a being who dispassionately discussed how they were to kill one another for his… not amusement, rather for his intellectual curiosity. It was rare for a nymph to feel hate but here it was sparked already, and she glared at him even as he introduced her competition.

“Participant number 8: an unnamed nymph. She may not look like much at the moment, but her potential for power is enormous. Underestimate her at your peril.”

"That should be sufficient information on your competition. Now, I will send you to the first arena. Once one of you has fallen in battle, the rest shall be retrieved and I shall send you to the next round. This will continue until only one of you is victorious."

The Monitor hit a button on a console before him, and each of the glass chambers filled with blinding bright light. As the light faded the nymph found herself somewhere else entirely; a wrecked conference room. There was a wide oval shaped table, a little battered and covered with dust and rubble from the ceiling buckling overhead, in the centre of the room. Around it were scattered upturned chairs and corpses, all of which were dressed in uniforms of varying faded colours, though mostly stained a deep bloody red.

“This base was the site of a large-scale battle.” The nymph jumped in surprise at the sound of the Monitor’s voice once again. It sounded right next to her no matter where she was. It was creepily intrusive, though admittedly a minor issue compared to everything else. “There were no survivors, on either side. However, the commander of this base had it filled with lethal traps, many of which are still active. You will have to contend with the traps as well as your competitors, or perhaps find a way to use them to your advantage.”

It was unsettling, at first, to hear Ghost speak. She would later notice the speakers wired into every room in the manor (she presumed they were in every room but lacked the time or inclination to check each individually). It was through these and through the borrowed voices of others that Ghost would answer her many questions.

“Where am I?” She'd asked.

“This is my manor. You may consider it your home for the time being.”

----

“Who am I?”

“Your name is Aph.” But the name had felt uncomfortable and wrong.

----

“Where are you?”

“I'm nearby my darling daughter. I have a condition that means I cannot see you in person but rest assured I am always nearby and I love you very much.”

----

“Why am I here?”

On the second day, still in her settling in period, she stood on the porch of the house and looked out over the garden, rendered intraversable with weeds. All sickly greens and deep purples, with occasional flourishes; bright petals of an arresting midnight blue or a cloying gamboge. Off to one side, the only part of the garden still not completely consumed by the untamed plantlife, was the very top of a rickety old gazebo. Beyond the fence that demarcated the edge of Ghost's manor were lavender hills and more isolated manors. Later she would ask who those manors belonged to and Ghost would tell her that they were the only two people in this entire world, and that the manors were all theirs.

“You are a very special person.” Ghost's stolen voices buzzed out of a nearby speaker even out here. “Out in the world there is a very bad man called The Monitor, and you are the only one who can stop him from hurting more people.”

The nymph found herself paying little attention to the Monitor’s summary of their battleground, instead she picked herself up and idly floated over to the corpses that littered the room, moving from one to the next curiously examining them. Mostly they looked as though they’d died from gunshot wounds, a couple were broken and bruised in a way that suggested bludgeoning by something very heavy and one in a violet uniform had lost an entire arm somehow. Their stump had been hastily wrapped in scraps of material though it didn’t look like it had helped any. The nymph looked at their faces, though the decay made it difficult to tell she thought they might have been young, men and women both. She felt a sadness for their deaths and a curiosity for who they were, what this place was, why they had had their lives stolen from them.

But such pondering had to be cut short; as she heard the sound of distant commotion, raised voices and crashes of movement. She remembered herself, her situation, and with only the smallest hesitation she followed the sounds. They led her out of a doorway now missing its doors and down a couple of rubble-strewn grey corridors until she found a heavily barricaded door with a broken window looking out into a courtyard.

Through the shattered window she could see a battle playing out; she recognized them, other ‘participants’ as The Monitor had described them. Flames billowed around the one called Trickster, slender and spry he made a simple gesture and the flames swirled through the air like ribbons arcing towards Aegis Culpris on the other side of the courtyard. Aegis braced to take the hit, raising one hand before him as his gauntlet opened out into a shield just in time to take the blow with a loud sizzle, the force of the blow pushing Aegis back in the dirt. By his side his other gauntlet reformed, taking the shape of a primitive speargun. He raised the gauntlet, paused for just a moment to take aim and

“Stop!” the nymph cried out desperately. “Stop this!” Aegis’ shot went wide, embedding itself in the rotten plaster of the courtyard wall. Both Aegis’ and Trickster’s attention was directed her way for the moment and quickly she forced her way through the shattered window (utilizing the malleability of her form to squeeze her way through the tight space). “Why are you fighting?” she scolded. “Are we all really going to fight and kill one another just because some awful machine told us to?”

Aegis nodded. “I’ve no desire-” but was promptly cut off by Trickster bursting into maniacal laughter; his flames burned brighter in a halo around him with each renewed peal of laughter.

“You fool!” He exclaimed finally. “That’s the kind of simpleminded thinking that will-” All of a sudden there was a slate grey man right next to him, halfway through winding up for a punch, and before Trickster could even react, Larus’ fist, now composed of solid stone slammed into the side of Trickster’s face. Trickster’s fires dimmed and then went out as he flew back and skidded to a stop in the dirt.

The nymph winced and took a step back as Larus’ fist hit home. She eyed Larus suspiciously. He stared down at the unconscious Trickster, cracking his knuckles as they shifted back into grey flesh. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not looking to pick any fights; I just know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Well…” The nymph hesitated “That was probably for the best but I do still want to at least try to talk some sense into him. If we get all eight of us working together against The Monitor we’re sure to succeed.” The nymph nodded to herself.

Aegis chuckled as he strode up towards them, his gauntlets returning to their normal form. “I like your optimism… um what should I call you?”

“Oh!” The nymph exclaimed. “I’ve never had a name before. People usually just call me ‘You There’ or ‘Nymph’ if they want something.”

“That’s a lot of pressure then.” Aegis laughed again. “I don’t know if I’m up to the task. Any suggestions?” Here he turned to Larus.

Larus just rolled his eyes. “We should restrain this one at least.” He turned back to look at Trickster’s unconscious body only to find it missing. “Damnit!” he muttered, glancing around him.

The courtyard was simply an empty plot of land free of any elaborate ornamentation and in the process of being reclaimed by nature. In the far corner from where the door through which the nymph had squeezed was a mound of decomposing bodies. Just past that was a wide set of double doors hanging open, and on the left side (towards where Aegis had been standing) there was a metal door freshly knocked off its hinges allowing entrance to the dark corridors beyond. But the wall on Trickster’s side was mostly intact, except for a partially crumbled section too small for a person to fit through. If Trickster had left the courtyard they should have seen him, he should have had to go through at least one of their eyelines.

Aegis’ gauntlets shifted into sickles, though he made no move to use them yet, his eyes darted back and forth scanning the overgrowth for any signs of Trickster. The nymph tensed similarly, a few dim pulses of magical energy running up and down her pale pink skin borne by instinct more than any conscious decision. Larus simply sighed. “He’s not here.” He said. “He was full on laughing and cackling and calling us fools. If he was still here we’d know about it, he wouldn’t be able to contain himself.”

Aegis stood tense for another minute or so before finally begrudgingly relaxing, letting his gauntlets shift back into their original form. “a few other tricks up his sleeve.” He muttered the Monitor’s description of Trickster back to himself. “We should leave, go look for the others before that psycho finds them.”

The nymph nodded her agreement. “With any luck the others will be willing to work together, and then maybe Trickster will see that he doesn’t have to fight us.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Larus said dismissively. “You two should go and do that. I can mist through that gap,” here he indicated the crumbled wall behind where Trickster had fell, “I’ll head through and see if he might have gone this way.”

“I…” the nymph hesitated. “I don’t think that we should split up. This place seems dangerous I just don’t like the idea of us each going off on our own.” Larus gave her a withering look. “I’m pretty flexible,” she added “I could probably fit through there.”

“Or I could just knock a hole through.” Aegis offered, slamming his metal gauntlets together with a heavy clunk.

“No offence meant, but I work better on my own.” Larus said, as he strode through the overgrowth to the partially collapsed wall, his body gradually shifting into a mist as he did so. Aegis and the nymph watched as Larus’ mist form slipped through the gap and for a moment afterward. There were no immediate screams, or other sounds of danger and so Aegis and the nymph turned to one another.

Aegis gestured over his shoulder toward the hanging open double doors on the far side of the courtyard. “Where I started from was nothing but dead ends. That way’s probably our best bet.”

“Yeah.” The nymph agreed, somewhat deflated. “We should do that.”

“Hey how about Kallos?” Aegis asked as they started towards the doors.

“As a name?” the nymph asked. Aegis nodded.  “I don’t know, it sounds a little cruel.”

“Hmmm I suppose it does lose something in translation.” He admitted. “I’ll keep thinking.” The nymph looked across at him and smiled a little as they stepped back inside the base proper.

7.00 AM – Wake up time

Wake up time used to be a problem. Either she'd ignore Ghost's attempts to wake her and snooze the morning away (unacceptable) or Ghost would go more forceful (obnoxiously loud alarms, a splash of ice cold water, sometimes teleporting her directly into the training room) and she'd be irate for the rest of the day and not complete her training properly (extremely unacceptable).

Now Ghost would wake her up with a specially recorded message from Sister Clara and it would, without fail, raise her spirits, sending her to her morning exercise with a spring in her step.

7.05 to 7.30 AM – Morning Exercise

It varied from day to day. Her favourite was running laps of the mansion, seeing what new rooms there were today. Her other favourite was lifting weights as it didn't make as much noise as running or using any of the heavy exercise equipment, and so Ghost would read her chapter of whatever she was reading at the time. Currently she was obsessed with a book about sci-fi necromancers called Grey Rose of Seven.

7.30 to 8.15 AM –  Morning hygiene and Breakfast

Ghost said that eating was only necessary once or twice a week due to the way her body worked, but that it's nice to have breakfast and so they did every day. Ghost would read out the crossword puzzle clues for them to complete together. She was really good on Grandmasters, but struggled on most other topics.

8.15 to 8.20 AM – Say Good Morning To Her Friends

On her way to her practices she would always make time to pop into the gallery and say “Good Morning” to her favourite portraits. Sister Clara and D'Neya were mainstays just on the basis that she might get to meet them one day. Other often visited portraits included Princess Peppi and Jen and Bennie, oh and Fiorella of course, can't forget Holly or Trisha or... well too many to mention each individually.

This habit had been gently discouraged by Ghost who when questioned said that they didn't want her to raise her expectations too high and end up disappointed. Not that this discouragement stopped her from visiting. Today she stopped by Karen and Eureka and confided in them her latest theories on Grey Rose of Seven.

8.20 AM to 12.00 PM – Weapon Practice

Without a partner to spar with much of weapon practice was practicing form. It was the dullest part of her day, occasionally brightened when Ghost provided a new type of weapon for her to learn, or unearthed a new set of exercises to help refine her technique.

12.00 to 12.30 PM - Lunch

Lunch was even less necessary than breakfast, but it provided a nice period of relaxation. This was often her best opportunity to ask Ghost any questions that had been brewing over the last day.

“Why do Grandmasters keep doing Battles? What are they for?”

“Posturing mostly. Showing off that they are capable enough to host a battle of their own.” Ghost replied. “Though they'd say something like entertainment or data collection or oops I started a battle by accident.”

She'd nodded and continued eating her sandwich. It didn't taste very good but after she'd gone to the trouble of picking the fruit and making the jam herself she didn't want to waste it. Next time she'd opt for one of the trees that wasn't billowing smoke as she harvested from it.

12.30 to 12.45 PM – Walk To Magic Practice

Her magic was big enough that it posed a very real risk to the stability of the manor, and so magic practice was always held at the next manor over, she called it Magic Manor for obvious reasons.

12.45 to 3.45 PM – Magic Practice

Ghost would sometimes set up targets throughout Magic Manor and her goal was to locate them and take them out. Some days were all about practicing the different types of magic or controlling the size and shape of her spell. Sometimes she was encouraged to do the biggest spell she could, just to see the scale of it and to find the limits of her own power. No matter how much damage she caused, she noticed that it would always be fixed up good as new by the next day's Magic Practice.

3.45 to 4.00 PM – Walk Home

The path between manors didn't have the speakers that Ghost used to speak through, so it would always be the loneliest part of the day. Despite this she still felt their presence close by and that was a great comfort.

4.00 to 4.05 PM – Say Hello To Her Friends (Again)

“Jess! Jess! We practiced acid magic today.” She was bursting with excitement. “I think you'd be so proud of me. I got all the targets and dissolved a big hole in the floor and found a new basement room with all kinds of weird gizmos.”

4.05 to 6.00 PM – Specialized Training

Specialized Training was like an ongoing series of little skills that Ghost wanted to teach her. They would pretty much do hacking/interfacing with complicated technology once a week and while she was getting the basics it was clear she was never going to be especially talented in this field. Ghost said that that was okay.

Today was Immobilization Resistance Training. Essentially the worst kind of training. Ghost would freeze her in place, like how a Grandmaster might in a battle, and then it was her task to unfreeze herself. This was another once a week training and so far she hadn't managed it even once, even just a little tiny bit. Ghost said it was important though so she persisted in her efforts.

6.00 to 6.30 PM – Dinner

She liked to try new things. She'd often ask Ghost to get her the ingredients for a meal that one of her friends might have had. Today she'd asked for something the sad girl with no name might have had and it was a bland semi-nutritious mush. She hated it.

6.30 to 11.00 PM – Free Time

Ghost said it was as important to have rest time as it was to have training time, and so her evenings were hers to do with as she pleased. Some days she would sit in the library and read. Some days she would sit in the gallery and draw in her sketchbook, pictures of all her friends and her laughing and training together. Some days she'd sit on the porch and just watch the brilliant violet sunset. Some days she'd just continue to explore the mansion. Despite all of her time here she continued to find new rooms, new secret nooks and crannies and little treasures hidden within and she held out hope of maybe one day finding Ghost's secret bedroom, or maybe the room where they operated all the speakers from.

Today she explored outside. She'd been chipping away at the garden whenever she had the energy and inclination and it had really paid off. It had gone from wall of plantlife that if you walked into there was no guarantee you'd ever emerge, to just regular overgrown garden. Uncovering a path into the gazebo had been good. There had been an old tea set in there and for a couple of days she had become a connoisseur of all kinds of interesting teas.

Today she found a den of a big orange and white cat(?) amongst a particularly dense section of foliage. They were pretty timid at first but then she went and got them a selection of tasty snacks and they ventured out of their den to try them. She brought the cat (squirming and uncooperative) inside and asked Ghost to help her look up how to take care of enormous orange cat.

Ghost told her that this was a Fox and asked her to consider if she had time in her schedule to take care of a high maintenance pet. Despite initial resistance (they're so cute and fluffy) she was forced to admit that it just wasn't practical and let Fox return to their den.

Begrudgingly she continued her exploration and was rewarded with a hatch leading to a basement games room that she hadn't known was there before. It was neat but most of these games were for two or more people.

11.00 to 11.30 PM – Evening Hygiene and Bed Time

Every night before she got back into bed she would mark another day on her calendar and work out how many days were left. 590 was a huge number. Practically unimaginable for someone who had only existed for just over six weeks. On the one hand it couldn't come soon enough, but on the other she worried that even this impossible length of time was not going to be enough.

The mood was dour as Sister Clara and the nymph trudged their way through the swamp, which could only be partially attributed to the foul mist that pervaded this place. It was unspoken amongst the pair that their change in locale meant that one of their number was dead, and likely meant that another one of their number had killed them. They moved hand in hand through the waist deep stagnant water, the golden enchantments that Clara had cast on them both provided a little illumination as a side benefit, just enough to see the silhouettes of obstacles, such as trees, before they bumped into them.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” The nymph asked. Sister Clara hesitated pausing in her movement for just a moment as she turned to look back at the nymph. Her expression was one of earnest curiosity.

“I don’t think this is a good time, dear.” She said keeping her voice low without actually whispering.

“I could tell you about myself but there’s not a lot to tell.” The nymph said. “Nymphs are normally created for something but not me. My creator was dead before I was even fully formed.” The nymph trailed off as Sister Clara squeezed her hand and calmly waited for her to finish.

“I’m sorry dear,” she said gently, “I’d like to hear your story but at the moment I need to keep my full attention. The others haven’t had the benefit of my filter enchantments; they could be very dangerous to us and themselves at this point, which isn’t to mention any creatures that might be native to this place.” The nymph nodded her understanding and mumbled an apology and then in silence the two of them continued on through the mist.

Whether the sounds of their surroundings were dulled by the toxic mist hanging over them like a rotten veil, or whether there were simply no sounds to hear was unclear. All was silent except for the steady sloshing of water as they kept moving in the arbitrary direction they had chosen. The nymph wondered about their immediate course of action. Obviously the Monitor was scared. Maybe not specifically by her and her determination to unite the combatants of his game together against him, but he was scared, she was sure of it. That's why he'd sent them to this swamp, a place where the very air itself could turn them against each other.

The pair continued to wade through the swamp, Sister Clara was tense and attentive for sounds and movement glimpsed through the fog, while the nymph was lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes lingering on the indistinct shape of Sister Clara ahead of her, and especially her hand grasped firmly in her own. It was of course just a precaution against getting seperated, but it was still an act of kindness, and even a little piece of intimacy could mean a lot to someone who had spent most of their life alone.

It would be too much to say that the nymph loved Sister Clara just yet, far too soon for her to kneel before her and ask for her hand in marriage. But yet, the nymph couldn't help but feel a sensation that felt like her heart pounding, even if she didn't technically have a heart so to speak. As they walked together she tried to compose something, be it a comment or a question or an expression of gratitude or whatever, something to indicate that for whatever reason this quiet walk in this gloomy swamp had been the best moment in her life so far.

Sister Clara froze in place and glanced back to the nymph. “Did you hear that?”

“What? Hear what?” The nymph asked in a panic. “I didn't say anything.” she blurted, worried that she had accidentally been thinking out loud. Sister Clara gestured for silence and in the long moment that followed the nymph felt her heart (metaphorical) pounding, but remained as quiet as she was able.

And then there was something, a voice, very faintly crying out. Immediately Sister Clara was rushing off in that direction, pulling the near negligible weight of the nymph behind her.

547 Days To Go

Today after breakfast weapon practice was delayed and Ghost directed her to the basement games room she hadn't returned to since the day she found it. Standing inside was a battered robot in a motheaten deep purple suit.

“Wow! Are you real?” She immediately ran up to them and ran her hands along the worn fabric of their suit. “You're really here.” she said somewhat awed.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Their voice buzzed through a little grille at the nape of their neck.

She was running through all of the robots she knew of trying to work out who this was and coming up blank. “Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is... Proxy.” They replied.

“Oh, you're someone new!” She said. “Nice to meet you Proxy. I'm.” Long hesitation. “Ghost what's my name again?”

“Aph.”

“No that's not it.” She shook her head. “Well, I'll come up with something. It's my next Big Project. In the meantime can Proxy and I learn how to play these games?”

“Of course my dear one.” Ghost replied. “Weapon practice is cancelled for today. Lunch and this afternoon's activities will continue as normal though.”

That day she learned how to play pool and snooker and billiards and then got rather sick of the pool table games and then learned how to play darts and dominos and then they uncovered an entire cupboard full of board games she hadn't even known about beforehand. As they finished up for the morning and headed off to lunch she spontaneously ran up to Proxy and hugged them close. Their chassis was cold and in some places a little pointy through the fabric of the jacket, but they closed their arms around her and hugged her back and it was a great day.

“There is an impostor among us.” Larus stated simply. He looked around the ruined office at the others who had convened together in this sandblasted building.

B had righted one of the toppled office chairs and now perched sullenly upon it, giving the impression that he didn't really want to be here. Sister Clara was stood by the window, or rather the gaping hole where there had once been window, and she had a look of weariness and concern on her face. The nymph was close to Sister Clara, but she was looking out across the desert, scanning the ruins for any trace of movement, looking out for the one person who was still unaccounted for in this new location.

“Well, maybe not among us five.” Larus corrected himself and as if on cue Aegis re-entered the room.

“All's clear on this floor at least.” Aegis confirmed as he took a spot leaning against one of the walls. There was a loud creaking from the building itself, and Aegis seemed to reconsider, removing himself from that spot and taking a seat on an old wooden desk littered with papers. “I think the lower floors are all caved in. Upper floors... well I wouldn't risk it. If the spy is up for it maybe they'll get themselves killed and save us a job.”

“The shapeshifter could probably just turn into a bird and fly up there easily.” B said moodily.

“The way it has been behaving so far I think it would rather be amongst our ranks sowing uncertainty between us than watching from without.” Larus observed.

“So you do think it is one of us?” B asked snippily. Larus opened his mouth to speak, but just shrugged.

“We need to think this through.” Sister Clara approached a large white panel half covered with almost faded writings. “It does us no good to just make baseless accusations. That's exactly what it wanted when it revealed itself to us.” Using a pen from a tray beneath the panel she began to write their names upon the board, in a bright cheery green.

Sister Clara Jungfrau
Aegis
Larus
B

She hesitated and glanced over at the nymph, it felt a little impersonal to just write 'nymph' down, but this really wasn't an opportune moment to try to give her a name.

Nymph
Trickster
D'Neya

“I'm missing someone.” Clara said thoughtfully.

“Oh, um, what was their name. With the mask.” Aegis said. “It was a fancy name. Sounded like some kind of hat.” The group fell silent for a moment before Larus piped up.

“Oh right, Cabaret.” He said. “Has anyone actually seen them since this damned thing started?” There was a general shaking of heads as Sister Clara added their name to the board and Aegis offered:

”Once, right near the start. He turned and sprinted off at the sight of me.”

Cabaret?

“If we've moved two 'round's that means two of us have died.” As she says it Sister Clara notices the nymph, still staring out over the desert, shudder at the words. “In the facility we saw Trickster get stabbed either by Larus or by the spy in the form of Larus.” Larus frowns but resists the temptation to interrupt as Clara carefully strikes through Trickster's name on the whiteboard. “Did anybody see what happened in the swamp?”

“Do we even know for certain that someone did die?” B asked. “The shadow guy said that we only move from one place to another when it happens but he is trying to mess with us. It might be just another move to make us more paranoid.”

“I suppose it's not impossible, but we shouldn't leap to conclusions.” Clara said carefully. “In the swamp, Aegis and I were together at the end.” Aegis nodded his confirmation. Sister Clara looked around the room, waiting for someone else to offer their location at that time before finally prompting: “Larus?”

“The damned thing knocked me unconscious and then I woke up in this desert.” Larus replied frustratedly. “And yeah I know how hugely suspicious that it it is that it only knocked me out instead of killing me, and that has to be exactly what it wanted.”

“Everything's kind of a blur for me.” B piped up. “That fog really got into my system. I don't know what happened.” There was an expectant pause and the group looked over at the nymph, cognizant that she had been quiet this whole time.

Sister Clara walked over and laid her hand on the nymph's shoulder. The nymph rested her head against Sister Clara's hand and sighed. “I hate this.” she said. “I hate the way this doubt is turning us against each other, making us suspect each other. I don't want to harbour this distrust towards any of you.”

“I know, dear.” Sister Clara said softly. “I wish we didn't have to do this too, but until we've worked this out there's no way we'll all be able to stand together against the Monitor.”

“I was with D'Neya.” The nymph said with a sigh. “I found her huddled among the roots of one of those big swamp trees. I think the spy must have attacked her at some point, she was scared out of her mind. She's just a girl, you know. She's so young.” She turned and glanced over at B for a moment. “Nothing about what the Monitor has done is okay... but to do it to children...”

“I understand, dear.” Sister Clara said. “And I promise that once this spy situation is resolved, we'll all be doing everything we can to stop him.” The nymph murmured her agreement and turned her head to look at everyone.

“I'll just take a walk around the edge of the building and see if I can't spot D'Neya anywhere.” The nymph said, dropping from the ledge down to the sand not far below.

“It's probably not-” Sister Clara stopped herself. “Don't stray too far.”

“I'll keep her company.” Larus said, pulling himself away from the spot where he'd been slumped against the wall. “You don't trust me anyway so there's not much I can add to this conversation.”

As the group started to argue with one another again, the nymph breathed another sigh and walked away.

520 Days To Go

Things hadn't changed too much now that Proxy was part of the household. The most notable thing was that now she had a sparring partner for weapons practice, which had turned what was an arduous slog into a fun back and forth. Proxy themselves wasn't the most competent fighter to begin with but every day both of them were getting better with faster reflexes and cleaner swings.

She wasn't allowed to bring them to magic practice. Ghost said that Proxy was too fragile, impossible to replace. But that was okay because sometimes she'd see Fox following her, but not too close, and that always put a smile on her face.

It was free time and today she was having tea and cake in the gazebo. Tea had made a major comeback lately. She'd been learning how to bake and her cakes were mostly okay but accompanying them with a cup of tea was like the secret ingredient that made them even better. Proxy was with sitting with her even though they could not sample either the tea or the cake.

“Its sweet and crumbly and a little sticky and the texture's not one hundred percent consistent but I did my best.” She said, attempting to share the experience using language alone. “And the tea,” she took a sip. “It's like there's a little bitter, but the way I like it there's a nice balance of sweet as well. And it's the best when it's nice and hot so when you swallow it you can feel the heat inside you.”

Proxy didn't respond. They were like this sometimes. Outside of training sessions or scheduled activities they kind of shut down, only really operating on a surface level. It made her a little sad. She sipped more of her tea and thought about the future.

“Proxy, will you be with me when I fight the Monitor?”

“In a sense.” They said easily, suddenly more animated. “But before we discuss that it's important that I see your combat skills in action.” There was a shik as a blade emerged from their right arm. For a half a second it was almost funny to see this beat up robot (no offence Proxy) suddenly spring to life with a razor sharp shining sword emerging from a rusted lump of an arm. Then they slashed at her and she almost fell backwards out of her chair attempting to scramble out of the way.

“Proxy what are you doing?” Now on her feet, she paced back, putting some space between her and her friend.

“We're running low on time and I cannot proceed until I establish your level of competence. Defend yourself.”

“Stop it Proxy. We're not doing weapon practice. I don't have anything to defend myself with.”

“You are a weapon. Defend yourself.”

She bumped into the edge of the gazebo, no more space to back away and Proxy seemed to have no intention to hold back. They stepped forwards. She raised her arm before her instinctually and with desperate split second concentration conjured a shield of electric energy strapped to her wrist. The blow struck with a shower of sparks. She gritted her teeth as her makeshift electric barrier struggled to withstand the weight of the blow, and then the blade skidded aside safely. With the blade knocked aside, there was a moment an opportunity for a counter attack, but she hesitated. She didn't want to hurt Proxy. How could this be happening?

“Proxy stop it!” She cried out.

“Unit Proxy cease evaluation mode.” It was only at Ghost's command that Proxy stopped their attack. Their blade, now with a blackened tip, slid back into their arm and they took a seat on the nearest chair as though nothing had just happened.

“What was that?” She asked. “What just happened?”

“I'm so sorry my precious daughter.”

“Yes, but what happened though?” She cautiously stepped past Proxy, took one of the chairs and walked with it over to the other side of the gazebo, as far as she could from Proxy, before sitting down and resting her shaking legs.

“A little malfunction I'm afraid.” Ghost replied. “That programming is for a very specific situation that you don't need to worry about. It was never supposed to trigger for you, here at your home.”

“I don't understand.” She said.

“Its okay my dear.” Ghost said. “When you've calmed down and feel up to it could you help bring Proxy to my workshop, and then we can talk about it in more detail.”

She took a few minutes to recover. She picked off the shattered ceramics from her half finished slice of battenberg and finished it off, as it seemed a shame to let it go to waste. And then without a word she helped Proxy up and guided them back toward the house.

The skies were full of flame and the people surrounding them were either crossing themselves in fear, screaming or calling for the immediate execution of the witches responsible.  At the very least it meant nobody was paying attention as a hooded figure and 'Betty Parris' hurried hand-in-hand through the throng and into the nearest barn.

The nymph pulled the doors shut behind them. Everything had fallen apart so quickly. It might have been possible to maintain this masquerade and hide their true identities from the townsfolk here, if not for the existence of the spy. If you were a shapeshifter it must have been remarkably easy to pin a crime on each of your opponents and then sit back and watch the sparks fly.

The nymph, finally having caught her breath, turned to see 'Betty' standing back warily, a pitchfork raised in her direction. She pulled back her hood, to reveal herself, but of course she only succeeded in revealing the freckled face of Madeleine Williams.

“D'Neya.” she said softly. “It's me, um, the nymph.”

D'Neya lowered the pitchfork just a little. “I'll need a demonstration.” She asked.

“I found you in the swamp.” she said. “You'd been attacked by something. You were terrified. You lashed out at me with your black tentacle thingies. Caught me on the wrist. It healed up okay but it really stung.”

As the nymph spoke, D'Neya lowered her pitchfork and cast it aside. “I wasn't that scared, I'll have you know.”

“It's okay to be scared.” The nymph confided. “I've been scared in one form or another since the moment that this battle began.”

“I never said there was anything wrong with it, just that I wasn't, and I'm not.” D'Neya said dismissively. “After all I'm prepared to defend myself if I need to. You've seen that firsthand.” She thought for a moment. “Probably better equipped to defend myself than you are.”

“That's fine.” The nymph snaps, taking an uncomfortable seat upon a haybale. “I don't want to fight. I've never wanted to fight.” D'Neya took a seat next to her.

“Lets imagine that all this business with the spy gets resolved.” D'Neya said. “What happens then?”

“Then we all unite together and bring down The Monitor.” The nymph replied readily.

“How are you bringing down The Monitor exactly. Are you going to write him a strongly worded letter?” D'Neya asked. “Just ask politely and hope that he deigns to let us all go?” The nymph didn't have a response. For a minute or two they sat in silence listening to the cries of the puritan mob outside. They were baying for Madeline's head on a platter. The nymph shivered, though not from the cold.

After a while D'Neya spoke up again: “Nobody's taken the time to name you yet?”

“Everything's been pretty hectic.” The nymph replied. “Its not exactly top of anyone's priority list.”

“What about...” D'Neya thought for a moment. “How does Titania strike you?” The nymph considered it for a long moment. “It's a royal name, from one of the Queens of the Faeries. I think it would rather suit you.”

“You think I'm a faerie?” Titania(?) asked.

“Something like that.” D'Neya said. “Maybe not quite a faerie. Maybe you were a pixie or something.” The nymph was ready to argue, but then she glanced over at D'Neya and saw the smirk upon her face.

“Well, whatever. I don't think Titania suits me though.” The nymph said. “It's too grand. I'd feel like I should be hosting balls and bestowing favours.”

“Maybe once this is over you could do those things.” D'Neya said. “I am a princess you know. I could teach you how to hold court.”

“That could be nice.” The nymph said wistfully.

“That settles it then, from now on I'm calling you Titania.” D'Neya grinned.

“Well in that case I'm calling you -” The nymph's retort was interrupted by a heavy knock on the barn door. The nymph quickly leapt to her feet. She hadn't locked the door. She wasn't certain you could lock a barn door and she hadn't even tried.

Before she could get to the doors, they opened slightly revealing a well built man in a leather apron. The nymph froze as his eyes fixated on her for a long moment, before flickering over to D'Neya who was trying not to be noticed as she slipped away into the back of the barn.

“Get back or I'll use my witchy magic on you!” The nymph said. “I can do all kinds of witchy things and you're not going to like them.”

“Nymph?” The man asked, “Is that you, dear?”

The nymph breathed a sigh of relief. “Sister Clara, I'm so glad you're here.” The nymph took her by the hand, pulled her into the barn and straight into a hug. Sister Clara gave her vague murmurs of reassurance before extricating herself from the nymph's embrace and closing and barring the barn door.

“I was worried about you too, dear.” Sister Clara said. “After you went off with Larus and then the round changed I was convinced that he'd been the spy. That he'd done something awful to you.”

The nymph shook her head fiercely. “There was this giant underground plant monster. It almost got me, but Larus shoved me out of the way and...” She trailed off sadly. Sister Clara embraced her again.

“There there, dear.” She said. “It's okay. Everything's going to be okay.”

“Titania, step back from her.” D'Neya commanded. The nymph turned to look at her, to see the pitchfork back in her hands, raised and ready.

“It's okay.” The nymph said soothingly. “It's Sister Clara.” Clara held her position, hugging the nymph close.

“It's just me, dear.” Sister Clara said. “Though I understand the need for suspicion at this point in time. What can I say to set your mind at rest?”

“You can tell me how we met back in the ruined military base.” D'Neya prompted, pitchwork unswayed. Sister Clara seemed to concentrate for a long moment. “Really struggling to remember huh?”

“Well at my age memory can be a little tricky, dear.” Clara smiled. “You came up to me looking all lost and forlorn and then we found the nymph together.”

D'Neya cried out with effort and speared forward with the pitchfork, stabbing it into Clara's stomach with surprising force. There was no blood. Clara didn't even scream. Around the wound her body began to lose shape and drip away in great oozing droplets revealing the dirty cerulean liquid that comprised the spy's body.

“Close but not quite.” D'Neya sneered.

The nymph screamed as the spy's true gelatinous form revealed itself, and she was still grasped tightly in its arms. She raked and scratched at the ooze that bound her without making any real impact.

“You pair of pests!” It seethed.

“You couldn't just play the game, harbour some suspicions, let some distrust grow within you. Cursed saccharine wretches!” The nymph's skin was beginning to burn under the spy's touch.

“Hey moron! Get your dirty slimy hands off my maid!” The spy turned its head to look back at D'Neya and immediately was speared through with a spear of shadowy energy with an awful loud squelch. D'Neya was standing, the laces of her black dress pulled taut in her hands and an enormous black shape still spilling out of her exposed back. Three spindly legs already formed, not counting the one currently speared through the spy, and the beginnings of an enormous abdomen. Even in the large and mostly empty space of the barn D'Neya was looking a little cramped, yet still more legs emerged from her back.

The spy's ooze had become substantially more fluid since D'Neya impaled them, and the nymph spent the next minute or so, whilst D'Neya impressively revealed her full shadow tarantula form, scraping away the lingering remnants of its body.

When she was done she stepped away from the spy, now mostly a puddle, and up at D'Neya, now raised from the ground by her many shadow legs. She gasped for breath and finally said: “Your maid?”

“If you don't like maid we can talk about your position in my court once we've escaped from this battle, right Titania?”

The nymph made an indecisive gesture with her hand, all the while eyeing with wonder the nearest of D'Neya's enormous shadow tarantula legs. Hesitantly she reached out and touched it. It was softer than you'd anticipate. You could almost describe it as fluffy but she didn't think D'Neya would appreciate that description.

She was this close to giving in to the temptation to throw her arms around the leg and bury her face in it, when a faint plink and the sound of something rolling along the hard wood floor pulled her attention back to more pressing matters. Coming to a stop on the floor next to the spy's body was some sort of brass orb decorated in twisted runes and smeared with dark blue ooze. Bright white light pulsed from within and she could have sworn she heard the faint gurgle of the spy's damaged body trying to chuckle.

D'Neya slammed a shadow leg down onto the orb at the exact moment it exploded, expelling merciless white light throughout the barn-



...burning light...



...distant ringing all around her...



The nymph found herself crumpled on the floor, her entire body experiencing a prickling, tingling pins and needles feeling. With a tremendous effort she was able to push herself up, to see D'Neya collapsed in full giant tarantula mode. Her whole body was shaking and her shadow legs were unravelling and leaking clouds of viscous black energy.

The nymph's legs not quite working yet, she crawled over to D'Neya, took her hand and held it tightly clasped in both of hers. It was a struggle to speak but she managed to say: “D'Neya...”

At the sound of her name, D'Neya's eyes seemed to focus enough to see the nymph. She managed a single word before her body gave out, the twilight energy that it contained forcibly dissipated. Her last words an instruction delivered firmly despite her condition: “Win.”