Those yellow eyes blinked. Aspen didn't tell them to.
She opened her mouth to speak, but High Priestess clamped her jaw shut. Her thumb and forefinger dug into the hollows of Aspen's cheeks.
"Enough."
The word rattled Aspen's teeth. The warmth on her cheeks flooded her skin, hunting down every point of tension in her jaw.
She sagged against High Priestess, trying to force energy into her limbs. The sticky silk from the shattered loom clung to her arms and face like cobwebs. Some of it coated her tongue, tasting of dry earth and bitter roots.
High Priestess let go of her face, but held the rest of her tight. Aspen tore her gaze from the reflection. "I… that's not me. That's really not my face."
Her captor exhaled a breath that was just short of a growl. "Are you truly going to continue this? It's pointless, you've lost your ascended strength."
"Huh?" And what's with all the fancy talk?
A bubble of laughter, wet and weak, escaped Aspen. Then many. Her brows knitted together, the skin between them pinching deep. Ascended strength. Glowing mushrooms. Fancy old-person lingo. This face isn't mine. The words refused to settle into meaning.
If this isn't a dream... her breath grew ragged. Stop. Calm the fuck down. She looked up and stared at High Priestess's. Pay attention.
"Ascended strength?" She mumbled. "I don't… what even is an ascended? Are you stupid?" Shit.
High Priestess frowned like the word stabbed her. "Stupid?"
So that pissed you off? Aspen slumped further, her chin digging into High Priestess's chest. "Whatever this is… listen, let's just call 911. If I'm not dreaming, then there's something wrong with my brain. Maybe I'm hallucinating."
High Priestess stared at Aspen's face as if it were a puzzle with a piece she couldn't find.
"You are babbling," her voice returned to its unnatural intonation. "Not only your smell, but your mind has been fragmented. I nearly want to cry."
Well you don't sound like it. I should be the one who wants to cry.
She didn't wait for Aspen to argue. She shifted her grip, hooking an arm under Aspen's waist. Aspen raised a brow. "No, wait—listen to me—"
"Silence."
The command hit her like a physical blow. High Priestess hoisted her up with terrifying ease, dragging her back toward—
"No, no, no. Actually listen. Okay, look, my brain is fine! Ask me something! Quiz me!"
Aspen dug her heels into the floor. It was useless. The smooth, calcified wood offered no friction. She hooked her fingers into High Priestess's sleeve.
"Chill out! Why don't I know you? And why are you acting like you knew me? We can be calm!" She gasped as the woman hauled her closer to the silk basin. "I'm normal! I'm just—stop! Just talk!"
High Priestess didn't pause. She didn't even look down.
Aspen stared at the sharp line of High Priestess's jaw. It was inches away. Exposed.
Bite her ass, the instinct hissed, hot and chemical in her brain. Make her drop you. Her jaw unhinged slightly. Her upper lip curled back, baring canines that felt too long, too sharp against the inside of her mouth. All she had to do was lunge. Just one snap—
No.
She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the violence back down her throat.
Think, Aspen. Use your brain.
She's way stronger than me, something about ascended strength. If I bite her, I probably won't even hurt her. She's faster too.
Think about this situation. I don't recognize anything here, and I have wings. This isn't real life. And I'm not too sure about a dream either. I just smelled her name for god's sake!
So there are two options. Either I'm dreaming or I'm in another world.
That doesn't even feel real. But if I'm dreaming… then why haven't I woken up yet?
Damn it! If I act like a monster, she'll treat me like one. I've already annoyed her. I just have to pass as sane.
"Okay," Aspen choked out. They stopped right above the basin. "Okay, look. I'm listening. I'm stopping. Can we calm down? Let's reset."
High Priestess didn't answer. The arm around Aspen's waist vanished.
Gravity reclaimed her. She fell backward, landing in the basin with a soft, suffocating whump. The layers of silk swallowed her. She scrambled to sit up, but High Priestess was already leaning over her.
"A reset," High Priestess's voice dropped to a whisper that vibrated in Aspen's skull. "Yes. That is exactly what we are going to do." She didn't sit. She loomed. Her fingers tapped a rhythmic, impatient code against her bicep.
"You claim your face is not your own. You speak without root. And beside your title as Hermit, you lack a scent." She tilted her head, her green eyes boring into Aspen's. "Tell me, stranger. Who are you? What do you remember?"
Aspen swallowed hard. Her heart was still hammering. She's talking. Not attacking. Keep her talking. "Okay, um… so my name is Asp—"
High Priestess's hand snapped over her mouth, "I see. So you don't even remember that rule. Absurd."
Rule? What rule?
"Do not speak of your under-name here. I don't know where you got it, but your title is Hermit, and you will go by that."
Aspen shook her hand off. "Why? I'm not a Herm—oh, is that why you go by High Priestess?" That is a really weird name.
High Priestess squinted at her. "That's why you go by Hermit. We are part of the council, we have titles and have always had titles. Only our Namelosts can say our names."
That's... circular. "What's a Namelost? And this council thing..?" God, why am even I going through this? Everything is going way too fast.
High Priestess sighed, massaging her forehead. "Just describe what you remember."
"I… I don't know. Like, my home was completely different from this. I think there's a really, really big cultural gap here. I'm from somewhere far away."
"Far away?"
"Yeah. Like um..." How am I supposed to say I'm from real life?
Or if this isn't a dream... am I in another countr—no, why am I going back on this?
If this isn't a dream then the only possible scenario is I'm in another world.
The thought came cold. She expected to feel something in her chest. Am I not getting it? I'm in another world.
Oh right, the conversation. We're actually being calm. "I'm from a place without any wings or this wood stuff."
High Priestess began to scratch at her hair. A few seconds passed.
Then more.
She kept scratching.
Aspen bit at her lip. "Are you okay?"
"Just stay in the bed. I will call Raine and Memma to accompany you. Hierophant will be the one to make sense of this."
"What? Who's Hierophant? And Raine and Memma??"
"Stay quiet."
Aspen shrinked back. Damn.
Rude bitch. My questions are logical, she's the one who's being weird.
But what part of this would actually happen in a dream? Would I ever be this lucid? Or have people say this to me?
Plus, when has my brain ever thought up something completely new like this? And I even fainted and...
The thought floated to the surface of her mind, but it didn't sink.
Oh my god.
So... what if I really am in a fantasy world?
If I'm not dreaming then I'm in a fantasy world.
Her brain seized.
If this isn't just a nightmare then… nothing. No thoughts came.
She looked down at her hands—at the pulsing, swirling pigments under her skin.
No, drugs. They injected me with something hallucinogenic. The wings are a prop. The floor is just normal wood.
But then how do you explain the mushrooms? And I felt the wings. That was real pain, that can't be…
Her breath began to quicken. A sharp tingle shot through her back—the "prop" wings twitched in response.
Air snagged in her throat. Her vision spotted with static. Her mouth opened despite her. Ah.. ahhhhh—
"Still." High Priestess pressed both hands to her back. That warmth turned her racing heart into a sluggish drum. The static in her eyes cleared.
High Priestess didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers began to move against Aspen's collarbone. She wasn't just touching; she was knitting.
"Spirit of Charity, may she find peace in my touch. Watch me, for I am High Priestess. Let me hold her heart. Let me quell her thoughts. This is my Leal."
Thin, luminescent threads spooled from the High Priestess's fingertips. She traced a circle around Aspen's throat. The air hummed as the threads hardened into a thick, opalescent necklace. It cooled instantly on Aspen's skin, tight and heavy.
Leal? So... magic? Did she really just do magic?
Magic.
"I cannot hold you down all day," High Priestess murmured, leaning back to inspect her handiwork. "This will last for six days. Stay calm for me."
Actual magic. Aspen reached up to touch it. It pulsed against her jugular, releasing a steady thrum of peony perfume. Every thrum cooled her speeding heart.
I should pull this thing off when she's gone. But I also… kind of need this thing too.
The thought dissolved before she could hold it.
Wow, it really is calming me. I don't even care that this is magic. Is that even a good thing though?
High Priestess turned to her right, walking towards the curtain. Before she left, she spoke one last time.
"It is an ominous time. I pray you find a sliver of the original Hermit's memories, for all of our sakes."
Find memories? Do you think I'm the old Hermit or not?
If I had memories of this Hermit or Lyra person then maybe I'd know who the fuck you are, you stupid...
Her chest wasn't hot. She couldn't actually find any actual indication of anger, beyond maybe the smallest wisp of heat in her chest.
Why did I act mad if I'm not actually mad? I should just think logically here.
I'm not gonna find any memories.
And I'm in a fantasy world. Still doesn't hurt right. How many times have I thought that now?
✦
Aspen sat in the silk basin for a long time. The necklace pulsed against her throat.
It kept time like a second heart. Each beat released a wave of that floral fog into her blood.
The room wasn't silent, there was always a soft thrumming from somewhere distant. Not like air-conditioning thrumming, but the thrumming of something alive. Like massive lungs were breathing somewhere behind the walls.
I'm alone. So I'm safe.
Or at least, that woman is gone. Across the room, the heavy silk of the curtain stirred. There was no breeze in the hollow—the air was dead—yet the fabric rippled outward. It swelled as if something invisible had just brushed past it.
Aspen forced her eyes to move. I can't just sit here. I need to figure out where I am. Logically, that's what's most logical. Wait, that's circular. I'm stupid. The drug made her gaze want to slide off things like oil on water, but she forced herself to catalog.
Just focus. How many times have I told myself that? Wait, I'm spiraling.
To her left, the shattered loom lay like a corpse. The spindly wood was splintered; she'd thrashed against it. Many silk strands and blue moss-like things pooled on the floor.
Is the silk for these beds and the clothing? Seems like it.
Wait, how do they get the silk though? Maybe this is silly but… do these people poop silk? I mean we have moth wings but do moths make silk? Like spiders? Wait do spiders make silk or webs?
Ah, shut up! I'm spiraling. Hell, this room is all circular. It's like a spiral too. We're super spirals.
Wow. Now I'm not just spiraling, I'm losing my mind.
In lowercase. Heh. Incredible..?
Past the loom, her eyes returned to that desk. Now that she could focus on it, there sat a collection of tools on it. No pens, no paper. Instead, there were delicate wood needles, bowls filled with dried moss, and cups filled with aqua jelly.
I should keep those needles though. Something sharp. Anything. Just in case she comes back to attack me. She packed the needles into her hand and paused.
Right in the center of the desk, was a plate with… something on it.
Aspen squinted, leaning forward just an inch. The necklace pulsed but she ignored it.
It looked like a honeycomb, but gray. Next to it was a small, uncorked vial of that same blue jelly.
Uh… okay. So any chance of thinking this is a movie set is gone. Am I in denial? Come on, can't be so stupid.
Okay hold up. We have moth wings, or at least some insects wings. She took a glance at her back—but then her eyes shot away.
Rule 1: No looking at the wings. That was scary… for some reason. Maybe it's getting harder to deny my situation. Sounds smart.
The necklace pulsed, her shoulders loosened. Moths have long tongue things though, no? She touched her own mouth. Her lips felt normal, but inside… her tongue felt too long. Too sensitive.
Rule 2: Don't think about the tongue. Keep denying, there's a reason for it. Fuck.
She looked up at the ceiling. She was beginning to get a headache, she figured her brain was having a tough time with... everything. This necklace is doing something weird to my brain. There were no lights up there. No bulbs. Just those clusters of bioluminescent mushrooms. The light they cast was sickly—greens and blues that made the shadows look deep enough to drown in.
Yeah. I don't think my brain could ever dream of something like this.
I'm inside a tree. Her heart sparked again. A giant, living tree.
This kind of hurts.
A wash of cool, chemical calm flooded her system. Drowning the scream before it could reach her throat. Drowning the thoughts.
Okay. I can't keep doing this.
Aspen walked back to the silk basin, feeling the unnatural fibers clung to her skin. It was quiet. Just the hum of the mushrooms. The drip of sap from somewhere. The beat of the necklace, counting down the seconds of her captivity.
She closed her eyes, trying to picture her bedroom back home. The messy desk with far too many water bottles clustered onto it. The poster of Mili she had to beg to buy. The smell of vanilla candles.
But all she could smell was peonies. And all she could see, burned behind her eyelids, were those yellow, saucer-wide eyes. And the gray hair that wasn't hers. And the wings she'd never flown.
Am I going to go back home?
Nononononono—just focus on the room. She exhaled and held onto her knees. Figure out what's happening. Think later.
Her wings twitched involuntarily. Rule 1 was already breaking.
Please think later. This is tiring. I'm thinking too much. This necklace lets me think too much, so I need to stop thinking.
Footsteps reverberated from somewhere outside the room. Thank god.
The curtain behind her opened. She looked back to…
It wasn't High Priestess.
The girl standing in the threshold was… trembling. Sweaty. Where High Priestess was sharp angles, this girl was rounder, smaller, with the same seafoam hair.
With the same flared green wings, with gray patterns on them. What are all those swirls for? Looks... weird.
She guessed this person was that 'Raine'.
'Raine' eyes held Aspen captive. They glistened with unshed tears. "Are you really not Lyra?"
The words came out like squeaks. Raine took a step forward, her hands trembling as she reached out, then pulled back.
Aspen shrank back against the silk, clutching the wooden needles in her hand. Am I really in another world?
"I… I'm not who you think I am."