Verika’s memories poured into Regboren’s subconscious like a tunnel, where the wall exposed fragments of the warrior queen’s mind. Amidst the chaos of echoing memories, Verika’s thunderous scream shook the mind-path, her wrath a tempest, but Regboren remained a stubborn hanging bridge. It sauntered comfortably, its footing not affected by the wobbling tunnel of a raging mind.
Get out of my head, foul demon!
I’m no demon. I’m a reflection charged by the Enmavi to experience the world.
Find someone else.
You are the only one worth watching.
I do not consent.
Consent, the word sounded wrong in Regboren’s mind. In its understanding, Enmavi asked and it obeyed. That was the way.
I won’t hurt you. Let it be.
The mind-path held still, as if Verika had surrendered.
Then, rumble raised beneath and around, rhythmic and ramped up. The tunnel shrunk, compressing into a cage where only one memory remained. It shone bright, not a single big bright light, but tiny millions. Strings being pulled, the wood groaned under the force of Esgard’s magical arrows. Verika appeared behind her own memory, commanding the weapon she feared the most. The air didn’t hiss like arrows, it exploded like gunpowder as the projectiles broke from the wall of memory towards Regboren.
Teal lights punctured through the reflection element, leaving only ripples without a sound. Before Verika could muster another round, Regboren raised its hand, touching the wall of her memory. It seeped through the mind’s cage effortlessly, then appeared right in front of Verika’s avatar hiding in the memory.
You don’t have to try, nothing will work against me. I am invincible. As if to prove its point, the crossbows cavalry dispersed into sploshes of puddles.
I do not consent. Another memory wall appeared, yet carried something more, something absolute and terrifying. Verika pressed her own blade to her throat. I’ll end myself before letting you walk my mind. But if you want to experience the world with me, I’ll allow you to stick on my blade.
Your blade? Regboren—in Verika’s shape—frowned.
Yes, it cuts through everything. You will see more worlds through the blood of my enemies.
Hooker? What does it mean?
A whore, for I will pay every price to get my due.
A goal similar to mine… I agree.
Verika found herself sitting on her butts; Hooker laid three feet before her. She caught a quick glimpse of its glow, as if Regboren just merged with it. She snorted, pulling herself up. For a brief moment, she considered leaving Hooker there but the potential of having an alien ally with unlimited power pulled her feet forward. She picked up the crooked dagger, feeling a strange chill that was both strange and familiar.
You chose well. Regboren’s voice echoed in the middle of her eyes.
Verika’s breath hitched. This entity was testing her honesty, a thing she had learnt to hide, to compromise, or even denied in the face of anyone, sometimes even to herself. Another moment passed, she sheathed the dagger, deliberately shut off any further contact with the rainy bitch. These arrows were her greater concern for she alone couldn’t win a war, and to ask people to die for her without giving them the best equipment was something she could never live with. She wrapped six arrows into her bedroll, carefully enough that none would touch another.
The magical energy felt different, now that she had fully controlled her body, like a mind’s eye had been opened in her body. She could see the connection now, from the concentration to the distillation and the routes of those energy traveled. She traced every thread of them. Her mind recalled the thunderous sound, the deadly silence, and the drilling impact on the armor as the magic despoiled it.
Splosh. The sound she heard but couldn’t respond to. The insight had captured her mind.
“Mistress,” the voice of captain Haryuk rang behind her, “I’m sorry.”
The sound of blade screeching against the grinding stone of the scabbard prickled the hair on her neck. Haryuk—one of her most trusted captains, a seasoned warrior who never spoke when it was not necessary—had betrayed her. A trap, she realized too late, a paralysis woven into the arrow’s very design, meant for anyone who deciphered its secret. The moment she found the secret was also the moment it was buried with her, with her head part from her body.
She could hear the air whizz as Haryuk raised the blade. In a blink of an eye, she would die. Verika screamed in her mind. Take me!
And so Regboren did. It drew Hooker upward, bashing the dead promise of Haryuk’s sword away. Verika felt her legs pivot in a way she had never seen before, more fluid but unnatural, and she doubted that it had severed a tendon or two. She saw it in Haryuk’s eyes too.
The betrayer, after regaining balance, frowned at the awkward movement. Widen from being surprised, his eyes sparkled at his own revelation that Verika was still under the spell, then narrowed to two killing cold lines. He gripped his blade tightly and posed a stance Verika had taught him—the one that aimed for the throat, the one that left your own torso open. With a sharp bellow, he charged.
Give me back my body, now! Verika screamed in her mind. She knew Regboren would lose, and that meant she would die.
The spell petrifies your neurons.
Verika watched Haryuk closing distance. Her mind raced for the answer to save her stumbling body. Parry, left, right, head, keep retreating.
Roll left, keep running until I can act.
Haryuk is left-handed. Leap and bounce on the right.
Despite all of her calculations, Regboren wasn’t ready. When her body leapt and landed, it slipped. The flash of Haryuk’s blade descending forced a scream from her mind to her throat. Let me, “Out!”
Verika grabbed the tip of Hooker, holding it in both hands. Then it glowed, a golden rim of light at the edge of the wicked dagger. Weapons clashed, and Hooker slid through the descending sword as if it was a piece of leather. A sharp pain punctured right into Verika’s rib as the broken sharp landed deep beneath her flesh. She swirled Hooker above her head. Normally, there would be a slight stop as the blade cut through bones, but this time, nothing.
Haryuk screamed a short scream, then fell on top of her. The dagger pierced through his torso—and Verika twisted it, twice. The smell of the traitor burning flesh filled her nostril.
This was a gripping read! The psychological negotiation between Verika and Regboren is fascinating especially how Verika leverages the concept of 'consent' against an entity that only understands the binary of 'ask and obey.'
The betrayal by Haryuk felt like a punch to the gut, and the way you described the 'unnatural' fluidity of Verika's movements while Regboren was in control created such a visceral, unsettling image. That final moment where Hooker slices through the sword like leather really emphasizes the terrifying power they now share. The stakes for this alliance couldn't be higher. Great work on the pacing!
I really like the tension between Verika and Regboren, especially the way the piece handles consent, will, and coexistence without becoming overly explicit about it. Some of the imagery feels genuinely visual and alien at the same time.