Heretical Fishing-Chapter 63Book 4: : Witness

Maria’s entire world was ablaze. Flames washed over her incorporeal skin in streams, but rather than burn, they warmed. From the strands of essence in her veins, to the clouds of pink and orange chi surrounding them, all were bathed in a summery heat.

Trent was having a similar yet entirely different reaction to her power. Where his fire was a physical sensation, her compassion impacted his mental-scape the most, redirecting his wild and directionless anger.

In this, they were one. Their paths had converged, and though they would only stride along the same cobbled road for a short time, neither of them was going to waste the opportunity. They collided with Tryphena and Penelope as a conjoined conflagration that could burn out the rot, sear the wounds, and heal any remnant damage.

The princess screeched the moment their essence touched her own. The corruption had barely progressed since Maria had last seen it, yet even the little ground it’d gained was too much.

Trent’s bonfire roared—she soothed it, reminding him to remain on target.

He didn’t need to speak his gratitude; she felt it as if it was her own. Together, their combined will and chi focused on the two patients. Both mother and daughter were undoubtedly infected, yet one was worse than the other—Tryphena.

They bore down on her with the strength and determination of oxen, their skulls digging through layers and layers of concealment like it was loose sand, their great horns of pink and orange setting decayed roots aflame.

But despite the apparent rot, this foothold of corruption didn’t lack in vitality. Before its sickly lines could be destroyed, the power would move, branching off to create new growth.

It exerted its influence on Tryphena’s mind, too. The entire time they tried to heal her—tried to save her—she lashed out with malice, focusing on scenes clearly intended to undermine her brother’s resolve. They were things he couldn’t possibly have known. Conversations he hadn’t been present for. And, unfortunately, each vision was true.

Countless exchanges with palace staff—tutors, cooks, and dignitaries. In the oldest recountings, they would merely nod at Tryphena’s disparaging comments. Over time, however, they smiled and laughed along with her insults. In the latter years, they instigated the gossip, knowing the princess would neither chastise nor punish them for speaking ill of the crown prince.

These set Trent’s jaw to clenching. They reminded him of all that’d happened while influenced by the Cult of the Alchemist’s concoction. Maria was just about to remind him to remain focused, but he let out a scorching sigh, joining in with the remembered smiles.

They weren’t wrong. He had been a colossal prick. His very existence had made their already hard lives even harder. How could he hold their cathartic venting against them?

Rather than upset her brother, the former princess only pissing herself off. She hissed and spat at his easy acceptance, her outrage enhancing the next visions she subjected them to. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

The moment Maria saw the people involved, she prepared to reach for her chi.

“I just do not understand why he’s like this,” Penelope Gormona said only seconds after a server left the throne room. Rather than the rest of the conversation, it skipped to the next, following the same formula. All were single-sentence insults spoken by his mother—the one whose affections had been the foundation of Trent’s forgiveness.

“He makes it so terribly hard to love him sometimes…”

Another shift.

“How can one boy alienate everyone so thoroughly?”

Another.

“You know, Tryphena, it’s not really your brother’s fault that he harasses the serving girls so…” When the former queen turned her daughter’s way, a smirk played on her lips. “After all, he didn’t choose to be born with such a face…”

Maria, fearing this could cause Trent to falter, reached within for her chi. Even if it meant some of the corruption thrived momentarily, she had to step in before—

She froze as a force grasped her wrist, both gentle yet unmoving.

Trent. It wasn’t a demand. It was a request. He encouraged her to trust him. Then, with a soft grin, he let his rage flow—it was neither destabilized nor wild. Just as Tryphena had propped her conviction up with wrath, he used his righteous indignation as fuel, a propellant blasted right into the center of their conflagration.

Incandescent tongues of flame raced along each branching root of corruption, incinerating them before their power could be redirected. Maria, stunned by his resolve, followed in their wake, applying the orange and pink cloud as a soothing balm to ensure nary a speck of rot remained.

From close by, another had noticed the toxic procession of memories, and as Penelope’s awareness screamed out into her surroundings, it threatened to overwhelm all. No longer caught in the liminal space between nothingness and anguish, despair engulfed her, tearing from both her throat and core.

Just like her son earlier, the former queen’s mind was a wildfire whipped into a tempest by winds of regret. She became a force of nature. She struck out indiscriminately, attempting to raze all to the ground, herself included.

Trent and Maria’s conjoined chi flared in response, matching and trying to exceed her destructive intent. Perhaps they would have succeeded if it were their only task. But it wasn’t, of course—their other patient wasted no time in taking advantage of the chaos.

Tryphena didn’t fight against the corruption-tinged flames; she opened herself up to them, readily letting them scour her away. It all happened so fast. Maria and Trent weren’t prepared, and as strands of rotten essence touched the places they’re repaired, fresh seeds of decay sprouted.

If Maria currently possessed a body, she would have wept from frustration. They’d just lost so much ground, and if nothing was done, they would lose even more.

Suddenly, a fifth being burbled and joined the fray. Maria felt a pang of guilt. She had been so absorbed by the task that she’d forgotten all about Slimes. He, however, wasn’t bothered. He tried to reassure her with a weak jiggle, which only served to cause more worry—despite his rest, he was far from being back at full strength.

With each passing second, Penelope’s firestorm grew stronger. Trent and Maria held it at bay, but with Slimes focused on stalling Tryphena’s corruption, they could gain no ground. It was a stalemate.

Though Maria couldn’t spare the attention needed to check, she felt the cell moving around them, its walls pushed outward by the forces clashing within the relatively small room.

For the first time since she’d bonded with Slimes, she truly started to doubt herself—started to consider that the two women before them might not be savable.

She and Trent could burn his mother and sister away at any moment. If they shifted their combined will, tweaked it even a little, the corrupt essence and its hosts would be scoured from existence. Ironically, this would grant Penelope her wish—she’d be reduced to nothing but ash.

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Slimes, still nowhere near his strongest self, reached deep into his gelatinous and crystalline core. Hold, he seemed to urge, so robbed of strength that he could only think in emotions.

Maria’s mind raced. She desperately wanted to be wrong. She needed to find a path that led to a full recovery for the afflicted women. Yet every time she searched, her efforts were thwarted by one woman seeking self-destruction, and another demanding the annihilation of everything.

It was all too much. The very idea of a mother-turned-firestorm trying to scour her and her two children away made Maria’s heart want to break. Maybe… Maybe destroying them was a kindness. Perhaps Fischer had been correct all along, and that some people just weren’t capable of being saved. Would it not be kinder for her to snuff out Penelope’s flames before she could take one or both of her own offspring with her…?

Maria took a step back, and an immutable force shoved her down until she landed in a room of stillness somewhere in the depths of her own psyche. All around her, the walls flashed with memories: Penelope’s and Tryphena’s and Trent’s, their trio of perspectives showing thousands of visions from each of their points of view.

Trent and Tryphena playing as adolescents, having invented a game with sticks and a single stone. They played it every day for years, the span of time knowable by the passing of seasons and the growth of their adolescent bodies. Though the game’s rules shifted by the hour, they would beg their minders to play it each afternoon.

Penelope had been there always. She could have left it to the many staff in charge of caring for the prince and princess, but even on the days she was dreadfully unwell, she would watch from a low window in the castle, ensuring the two she loved most could look up and see her smile.

There were countless other memories too, but nothing struck Maria so hard as the stupid game. It had only ceased when Trent consumed the potion—which made Maria’s mending heart break anew. How different would their lives have been if not for the interference of the king and his alchemists…?

The visions discontinued, and when Maria looked up at the blank walls, tears streamed down her face. The injustice of it all was too great. Other awarenesses had been dragged down into the room with her, and she clenched her jaw as she studied them.

The patients remained unaffected by the memories—if anything, their anger and despair had only increased. But there were others, too. Besides Trent, Keith, and Slimes… multiple prisoners gazed in. The handlers, the two alchemists, and even Tom Osnan Jr. and his wife Joanne. The not-a-prison’s soul also stared down from above, its judicial gaze as heavy as it was absent of emotion.

You can be my witnesses, Maria thought into the room, her legs braced. I will not abandon my ideal. Those around her all responded, their emotions flying out toward her—but she was already gone. Maria leaped out, her awareness arriving back in the chaotic cell. The physical walls seemed to have shifted further, perhaps disintegrated by the clash. Again, she didn’t check.

After all, she spoke in her mind, sharing the words with Slimes, Trent, Keith, and the rest of her witnesses. We have a job to do.Penelope and Tryphena must be healed.

Light and force exploded from within her core. She thought it might be another advancement at first, the statement having unlocked more of her latent potential, but it didn’t come from her at all—it came from Slimes.

His full strength, more than he had ever possessed, rocketed out into the room, taking his form with it. He appeared before the corrupted women. The orange and pink hues of Maria and Trent’s conjoined chi poured into the crystalline familiar. The brilliance that shone from each of his faceted surfaces was suffused with his power, casting a kaleidoscopic light more potent and beautiful and awe-inspiring than words could describe.

In a single flash, every seed, root, and trace of corruption was seared away, just as Fischer had done once before. In the moments that followed, she waited for something to fill the space left behind. Trent made an attempt, using the memories of afternoons spent playing with sticks and a rock to flood his love into those vacant areas.

But naught took hold. The queen and princess’s thoughts were silent. Deep within Maria… also nothing, not a single doubt blossoming. She should be worried, shouldn’t she? Assailed by fear and terror and despair?

All she felt was hope. They would find a way. Even if this was just another temporary measure, they’d try again. They could return to finish the job before corruption ret… huh?

Others approached. Feet tapped against stone, and for the first time since Trent’s arrival, Maria opened her eyes to the outside world. The walls had moved, but not in the manner she’d expected—not a single brick had been destroyed by their clashing intents. They’d been neatly disassembled and set aside, leaving a wide hallway in either direction.

From the left came the handlers, following a line of chi Maria knew as well as her own. Slimes drew them in, leading them back to his gemlike and essence-filled body. Another tendril extended to the right, which two blubbering alchemists were now sprinting along, their eyes wet and faces puffy as they raced to repent for their sins.

Behind the alchemists, riding vines that shouldn’t have been able to travel through the not-a-prison’s suppression, came a couple of nobles she never would have expected. Tom Osnan Jr. and his wife Joanne stared ahead with steeled expressions.

Maria drew tendrils of chi into her limbs, preparing to smack the absolute shit out of them, but then she sensed the emotions breaching their masks of indifference. Self-hatred. Guilt, regret, fury.

If that hadn’t stilled her hand, the pulse from Slimes would have. The wave of power was laced with meaning, and Maria could do naut but blink at him as everyone approaching closed the distance. The fires within Trent had grown dull, and his awareness hovered beside hers, similarly stunned.

You… she thought. You did all this, Slimes?

Yah-huhhh!

The handlers arrived first. Their reasoning was too complicated for immediate comprehension, but Maria sensed compassion and humanity in their resolve. They knelt by the previously corrupted women, their chi pouring in as a liquid that pooled in Tryphena and Penelope’s cores.

The alchemist came next, and their tears flowed with renewed vigor as they added their strange essence to the mix. Their motivations were clear: they’d been complicit; they were partially to blame. When their power combined with that of the handlers’, the pools of liquid became gaseous clouds that billowed out, filling the surface.

Finally, the Osnans arrived. Their intentions were even more convoluted, but one thing was certain: they meant to help. Keeping their eyes averted, they kneeled a little further back than the others.

Their vines of chi wound themselves into Tryphena and Penelope. They snaked underground, the tendrils of life forging paths into tunnels made by roots of rot and decay.

The coals of Trent’s bonfire flared with heat, and Maria drew it into her pink cloud of healing. Together, they raced into the occupied cores, hesitant at first. But there was no need to fret; their wills were aligned.

Trent’s flames, bolstered by Maria’s chi, whipped around within Tryphena and Penelope. The inferno ignited vines and gasses both. As the vines burned away, the heated gas rushed in, followed by and intermingled with healing clouds. All corruption was consumed in a flash, and thousands of hidden wounds were painlessly cauterized, scars healed before they could even form.

It… it was done. Just like that.

The multi-spectrum light shining from Slimes grew dull, and as everyone withdrew their wills, there was a long stretch of silence. Given the former allegiances of those present, it probably should have felt awkward, but not one had any attention to spare.

All eyes watched a mother and daughter as they slowly stirred. Tryphena and Penelope sat up, both touching their heads and as memories and knowledge returned. Lips quivered, nostrils flared, and their gazes sought a particular visage.

The one they searched for was a blur. Small jets of flame shot from his back, burning through the outer clothes he wore overtop a fireproof suit. He dropped to his knees and slid along the stones, wrapping his arms around his immediate family.

Maria made to turn away, but Joanne Osnan stepped up. She clasped her fingers before herself, causing a tangle of vines to encase the reunited family and give them privacy.

Free of the guilt of witnessing such a tender moment, Maria let out a long sigh.

She reached out with her awareness to praise her familiar—the hero of the day. He had recognized that others would be necessary to fill the gap left behind. He’d gathered them by coordinating with the not-a-prison, saving his strength until the last second.

Slimes spun with joy, his crystalline body going gelatinous.

A pulse of chi came from within the dome of vines, and they retracted back beneath the stone floor, three cultivators stood, their bodies awash with flame chi. Suddenly, that essence leaped out in multiple directions. As it flowed into the cores of others, all open and willing to embrace it, Slimes bellowed in victory, his usually squeaky voice deep with power.

“I’m a booooy!”