Kanin Fyre: Chapter 40 - The Choice of Trust

We can’t hide here. If they find us, they’ll find Noli, too.

But where else can we go? As long as we can sense them, they can sense us.

Can we fight them? No chance. Out run them? Definitely not. We might be able to evade them for a time with Displace—but all our void is in here with us, and eventually, we’d run out of mana.

Crap. There has to be a way. There has to be something!

There is.

Ink recoils at the idea as I pull my mind away—it won’t work if we’re fused. Ink rails against me, fearful and angry.

Ink, you have to trust me, I think, fighting back its panic. We don’t have much time. You have to work with me on this or we’re all fucked.

Ink still wars with my mind. No. It refuses. It will not be trapped.

If you don’t do this, we’re guaranteed to be trapped! They’ll stuff us in one of those refiners, like Anika and the fire remnant. Is that what you want?

Of course not! It will never be caged again. Never, ever, ever—

Ink! I snap. We don’t have time for this. You need to trust me now, or it’s over.

Uncertainty stains its anger. It knows what I’m saying is true, but backing down, admitting defeat, is against its nature. And how could it possibly trust me? How could I ever trust it after—

I’m sorry, I think quickly. Rinviu is getting closer by the second, and my own anxiety is mounting, not at all helped by Ink’s mental chaos. I’m sorry I trapped you in my Inventory before. But this isn’t going to be the same as last time. You have to believe me.

Ink shakes off my thoughts, and I realize that’s not what it was talking about, leaving me puzzled. Then what? What memory is bothering it? I reach into its mind, and with some reluctance, Ink allows me to find what I’m looking for.

All the times it took over my mind. The times it attacked Noli and Zyneth. The people it made me kill. Snippets of all the horrific moments it forced me to experience—blood, despair, the taste of souls—they all play through my mind in an instant. Ink doesn’t understand how I could ever trust it after what it’s done.

I don’t have a response to that. After all, how could I? Why would I have any faith in a creature who has put me through so much suffering? Of course Ink doesn’t believe me: I’m not sure I believe me.

But we don’t have time to work through all the wounds we’ve inflicted upon each other. Ink’s cooperation now will make or break everything.

Sometimes, I think, trust isn’t a feeling; it’s a choice. I’ve been choosing to trust you every time I let you drive our actions. And yeah, it’s been more out of necessity than anything. But you’ve proven to me that you’ve changed. So you want to show me you’ve earned it? Then it’s time to return the favor.

Ink still feels uncertain. It feels scared. It’s never had to place its autonomy in someone else’s hands before—not willingly, anyway. It doesn’t want to give that up. It doesn’t want to give up anything that belongs to it.

You’re not, I insist. It will be temporary. Just a few minutes—that’s all we need.

Ink remains unconvinced. Yet, when I reach for my core, it doesn’t stop me. When I maneuver our void to my chest, it chooses to let me do so.

Ink quivers in distress.

Thank you, I think.

[Void added to Inventory.]

In an instant, it’s gone. All of our void vanished into thin air. And with its physical disappearance, I feel a mental void as well.

It’s quiet. Peaceful.

I’m alone in my own head.

Ink is really gone.

Without void to hold me together, my glass feels loose and disjointed. I can still control most of it, but I feel clumsy now. Incomplete.

A wave of relief comes over me. It listened. It trusted me. And…

I’m free. But even as the thought crosses my mind, I feel guilty. How much of what I said to Ink did I really mean? How much was out of desperation?

“Kanin?” Noli signs, her forehead creased in worry.

“I put Ink in my Inventory,” I tell her, still grappling with my inner turmoil. “The god could sense it.”

Speaking of which, Rinviu has stopped. They glance around the room in confusion. Come on. It was only your imagination. Just leave!

My soul sinks as the harpy begins gliding forward once more. They’re headed in our direction. It didn’t work. I was so sure it would work. I tense, collecting my loose glass into a Lightbeam. With all this extra mana I’m holding onto, I should at least be able to blind them for a few seconds and give the others a head start.

[Kanin: Make a break for it on my signal.]

[Fyre: Why? Kanin, what’s going on?]

[Kanin: They’re about to find us. But they don’t have to find you. Noli and I can provide enough of a distraction for you to escape. Good luck.]

[Fyre: What? No. Hold on—I’ll figure something out.]

But there’s no time for any of her plans. Rinviu reaches our block. I look up, waiting for them to open the wall and catch us like fish in a barrel. Noli puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

And then, the god moves past.

I watch in disbelief as they continue to drift through the room, reaching the opposite wall, where they again look around in confusion. The blocks sway once more, and this time my glass can feel the pressure of the wind that’s blowing through the room.

[Kanin: Wait. I think they passed us. Keep quiet.]

The god doesn’t appear to find what they’re looking for. Taking one last lap around the room, they finally head back to the tunnel they came in through. The aperture closes after them, and then they’re gone.

I relax. “We’re clear.” I send the same message to Fyre and Ollie.

Noli sags in relief. “Thank goodness. That was too close.”

No kidding. “If Ink hadn’t cooperated, we would have been screwed. From now on, I want you to stick with Fyre—she can open these cubes, too, but the gods can’t sense her like they can sense us.”

I open the nearest wall of the cube to allow Noli and I to climb out.

She watches me as I do this, her eyes roaming over my glass. “Then Ink is really back in your Inventory? Are you…”

She doesn’t finish her question, but I’m not sure what I’d say if she did. Am I going to let Ink back out? Will I keep it in there?

Part of me wants to. Not a small part. Having my mind to myself again would be an incredible relief. It wouldn’t be the same as having a living body again, but it would be a hell of a good start.

I consider that course of action for a long moment. Then, I sigh.

Man. I’m such a piece of shit. After everything I said to it, am I really considering betraying Ink like that? Sure, it’s a murderous void monster with a taste for souls. It might not technically be alive. But I guess, neither am I, and like me, it’s a thinking, feeling entity capable of growth. Locking it away in eternal nothingness is cruel for anyone. And it would be no different from what the gods are doing to Travelers, would it? What a hypocrite.

No. I won’t do that to Ink—it would just get out the next time I use a spell and the void stat hits 100%, anyway.

And to be honest? It’s kind of growing on me.

Heh. I can’t really say why, but the decision to free Ink on my own terms makes me feel lighter. Like I’ve shrugged off some invisible, oppressive weight.

[Void removed from Inventory.]

Ink appears in front of me as an amorphous shadowy blob. Its mind reappears at the same time, its thoughts and feelings smacking into my conscious with such suddenness that it catches me off guard. It wasn’t sure if I would really let it back out.

You and me both, I think, faintly amused. I don’t try to hide the thoughts I’d had while it was stored; it would only stumble upon the memories eventually, anyway.

Ink chews on my thoughts, unsurprised I’d considered leaving it in the pocket dimension. But the fact that I’d decided to honor my word does surprise it. It’s relieved, baffled, grateful… and something else that’s new to it. Something it picked up from me.

It feels appreciation.

Alright, I think playfully nudging its mind. That’s enough sappiness. You ready to get back to work?

Ink swirls around my body with a buoyed eagerness, fixing void back into my joints, reinforcing my body, complimenting the strength of my glass. Yes. It is quite ready to free others from their prisons as well.

Mentally, I grin.

Noli gives me a questioning look, reaching out for the nearest volume of void. Ink happily spins it around her hand like a miniature galaxy, its enthusiasm reflected in its magic as the rest of the arcanum ripples around my body.

“We’re good,” I tell her. “Never better, actually.”

Noli beams, and her smile lights up the room.

[Kanin: Heading your way.]

Noli and I continue our ascent through the Sanctum, resuming our race with renewed enthusiasm. Despite Noli’s natural dexterity, she can’t come close to the control we have over our glass and void, allowing us to rocket our way to the top of the room. Even so, we slow down so it’s at least close, and we leap up to the cube where Fyre and Ollie are waiting, Noli laughs, landing a half second after us.

“You went easy on me,” she signs.

“I’d never!” I object. “That would be condescending.”

Noli gives us a good-natured eye roll.

Fyre watches the two of us with a curious look.

[Fyre: Everything alright?]

“Yep,” I sign, ignoring Fyre’s skeptical expression at my (probably out of character) upbeat demeanor. “Now where are these Travelers you guys found?”

Fyre gestures beneath our feet.

[Fyre: I’ll show you.]

Crouching down to run her hand over the surface, the block we’re standing folds itself open, revealing a figure underneath.

That is, a figure frozen in a bubble of light. I drift down to Check the inhabitant and Inspect the force field as Fyre explains.

[Fyre: We’ve checked a couple different containers. They’re all like this. I can open the cubes, but nothing I’ve tried works on the force field.]

According to Echo, the prisoner is a dhampyr named Hans, with a Role of Beast Tamer. He’s standing there, frozen, hands pressed against the sphere like he’s trying to look out. The posture is eerie, like I’m looking at a model in a wax museum rather than an actual person.

The forcefield, meanwhile, is something I’m familiar with. It’s almost exactly like the one Blair used on me, and a stronger version of the one Aquenno used in our sparring match. In fact, this might be made by Blair herself. Last time we’d found it practically impenetrable. But this time, we have a few more tricks up our sleeve.

“I think I’ve got an idea,” I say, double-checking my plan with Ink. It’s not terribly excited about the plan, but it doesn’t dismiss it out of hand, either. In fact, it reluctantly agrees it will probably work.

[Fyre: You know how to open it? Or break it?]

[Kanin: Nope. No idea. But I think there’s a way Ink and I can get around it.]

I Check with Echo on how much mana this is going to take: 347. Compared to the hundreds of thousands of points of mana I got from Dizzi and Shirasil, that’s peanuts, even after I used a big chunk to activate the Planar Linkage spell.

[Kanin: Fyre, Ollie, can you two go around and find all the other Travelers in this room? I need to know how many there are and make sure I’ve got enough mana for everyone.]

[Fyre: On it.]

[Ollie: SOUNDS FUN!]

The dragon does a mid-air backflip, then excitedly spirals away to land on the next block over. It jerks violently beneath him when he lands, and Ollie lets out a quiet, guilty chirp.

“Anything I can do?” Noli asks.

“Keep an eye out for any more visitors,” I tell her. “And watch my body. I should still be here, mentally, but I’m going to be distracted.”

“Of course,” Noli signs, expression fierce and protective as she turns her gaze away from me. “I’ll keep you safe.”

We know she will.

I turn back to the forcefield. Ready, Ink?

It swirls around me, not excited, not worried, but determined. Ready.

Its thoughts feel more clear than I’m used to. Almost closer to language than abstract ideas and conjured memories.

It’s been a while since I’ve been this simultaneously nervous and excited about doing something. Bizarrely, it throws me back to my early days of working in film. The giddy anticipation of doing something I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. Knowing I’m as prepared as I could be, yet still worrying about getting everything right. The pressure of others watching and expecting things from you. But also, the excitement to finally turn preparation into action.

I can almost feel the heat of the stage lights. The dark of the set, the hush falling over all the stagehands. “Quiet on set,” the director’s voice calls.

“Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

“Roll sound.”

“Sound speed.”

“Slate.”

The clapper board snaps shut.

I press my hands against the force field. And… Action.