4.46 Keep Trying

Acheron's eyes open, then blink hard against the sunlight pouring in through the windows.

"What... what happened?" He pushes an arm down on the soft couch, forcing his upper body to tilt upright so he can survey the room. He stifles a yawn with the other hand.

"You were asleep for almost a day," Orazia answers from the chair next to him.

"No I wasn't..."

"I assure you, you were."

"No, I was..." he trails off, looking more concerned by the second.

Orazia shrugs. "Yep. That's what a normal night's sleep feels like. You doze off, you wake up, time has passed. Nothing memorable in between."

"What did you do to me?!" Acheron panics.

"I couldn't block your psychic senses, so I had to make the potion exhaust your body to the point where you had no energy to spare to use them. So, um. Are you feeling alright?"

"I feel... pretty good," he answers, though his expression is horrified as he mentally reviews yesterday's events.

"I was hoping you'd be well-rested, thinking more clearly... and be more calm... so we could discuss some things."

Acheron sniffs. "It's all going to unravel, isn't it? Now that you know..."

"What exactly have you seen?"

"My mother tries to get help for me. It goes poorly. Even if we move away from here... it's... it's... no matter what I do... it's... it's all useless..."

"Dysen, Fairuza and I are keeping this to ourselves. For now." Orazia wrings her hands together nervously. "Well, Molly knows too, I think."

Acheron rubs at his face with the back of his hand. "Nothing breaks those two up, don't even try."

"Uhh... why would I...?" Orazia remembers Molly's literal crimes. "Never mind."

Orazia moves to sit closer to Acheron on the sofa. "We're here for you. I want you to know that."

"I don't get it... shouldn't you be terrified of me?"

"I know you would never hurt anyone intentionally. What happened at The Foundry was an accident. Maybe Uncle Carlos and Aunt Izalee would scold us all about carefulness and responsibility, but I'm... kind of happy that mind-hacking creep is gone."

Acheron is deeply disturbed by the inferred lack of consequences. "You say I would never hurt someone intentionally? Never? In one vision I drown someone in a river so I can force an elderfae into corporeal form and steal its tears."

"...A what?"

"I guess I'll have my reasons."

"When does... that happen?"

"A long time after we should all be dead of old age. Yet there I was."

"Hmmm..."

"Here's where you say 'visions aren't accurate' or 'you have time to change it' or something else that sounds nice but doesn't change anything."

"Actually I wanted to ask about the girl you think is trying to steal your soul."

"...You know how human witches are," Acheron says, after a moment, tone guarded. "It's like Izalee told you. They take the spirits of other magical creatures and destroy them, using the energy from that destruction to extend their own lives or charge their spells. But vampire spirits are corrupted, werewolf spirits are unsuitable, and faerie spirits are unstable."

"So that leaves people like us," Orazia finishes for him. "Or what little magic is left in us from very distant ancestors."

"Claire uses an artifact to find me, and my mother. Some talisman. The rest of you are too much other things for it to detect I guess. Running from it doesn't work." In one vision he even convinced a vampire to turn him to avoid Claire, but that went bad too. "I just have to face this."

"You called her beautiful. Even though... she doesn't seem to value your life at all."

"I'm not sure how I convince her I'm not some evil demon. She's been brought up to think I'll try to lie my way out of dying."

"Wouldn't anyone?"

"Promise me you'll let me figure this out. Don't interfere."

Orazia pretends to examine her claws. "Your visions led you to do what you did at The Foundry. Maybe that means they led you to let me help you."

"You can't help me. No one can help me. Once I'm old enough that my mother won't frantically search for me... I'm probably going to leave. And not come back. It's dangerous for you to be around me."

"That's ridiculous, Acheron. By your own account, you saved us."

"Thank you for believing me." He tries not to tear up again. "But I've seen you're all okay, if I leave."

The first few days after the incident are uneasy. Dysen feels like he's walking on eggshells, unsure if he should bring up what happened or not. He can see Orazia is doing her best to be chipper, but he can tell she's... for lack of a better word, plotting something.

Just talk to him, she telepaths. Keep an eye on him.

He's not going to talk to me about this witch, Dysen answers. He knows I want to rip her throat out.

Orazia narrows her eyes. Stop it. That's disgusting.

"You feel the same way," he mumbles.

We can't always control our feelings but we can control what we do about them, she scolds.

Lauren comes to Fairuza for the full story on why Fairuza isn't welcome at The Foundry anymore. 

Fairuza tells her something adjacent to the truth: her cousins found their way down there, and now none of her family is welcome back.

"Rook went somewhere and left Tabs in charge," Lauren complains. "So you're not missing much anymore. Tabs thinks "kids" are irresponsible and can't be trusted for the cool stuff. So she employed me to do her yardwork!"

Fairiza cringes. "Um. Ouch. That... sounds like the worst."

"It is the worst. She says the sun would ruin her complexion."

"Listen, I... don't want to talk about what I did at The Foundry anymore. I want to put it behind me. I'm not cut out for that kind of stuff."

"What? You were doing so great though. Look, I can get you back in. Just give Tabs a while to cool off."

"No... that's okay. Really."

Lauren drops the subject. The girls pillow fight until curfew, just like they did when they were little.

Unlike Fairuza, Molly is bummed about her source of income vanishing. There's not much she can do about it though, so she focuses on her studies and hopes everything will turn out for the best.

Carlos praises his son for making it on the honor roll. Carlos is quick to put the banhammer on any bad behavior he notices, so he's pleased he can use positive reinforcement for a change.

Dysen tries to help Acheron with his homework, since Acheron's test scores are abysmal lately. "Solving for X is like a puzzle, I don't get why people hate it."

Acheron shrugs, not very interested. "As a djinn once would have told me... give man a knot, he'll untie it, a puzzle, he'll solve it... a world, he will unravel it."

"And is that a bad thing?"

"I know you don't like math. You just like that your father is happy when you pretend to like math."

"Hey," Dysen feigns indignation. "I don't come over to your house, and insult you."

"I live here, and yes you do."

"Tell me about the future," Dysen changes the subject. 

"Okay. You're a con artist."

"Oh?"

"You become a celebrity psychic."

"That's... well... I am a psychic, it wouldn't be a con."

"You find a way to make it one. And Molly probably gets into illegal art forgery, not 100% sure, but maybe 95%."

"Art forgery? After what just happened? No way in heck."

"I could even tell you your kids' names. But if I did, you'd deliberately choose something else."

"I'm already planning on stopping at two, because you said three."

Acheron blinks. He expected some show of irritation at the mention of theoretical children.

Dysen catches his look, and the unguarded thought. "I didn't need precognition to tell me Molly's the type to want a kid someday."

Acheron smiles warmly. "You still surprise me sometimes."

Dysen is somehow unsettled by the affectionate smile. "...Right! Glad I'm not one hundred percent predictable."

Acheron's smile fades. "Sure you are. I just don't have all the variables all the time. Being awake takes up too much processing power, you know?"

"So I'm guessing you feel kind of... messed up... about being a dad yourself."

"Extremely."

"So don't have kids. Problem solved."

"I wish it was that easy," Acheron says sadly. Existence is decided. How it happens is not. How can he say this to Dysen? He can't. It's too disturbing.

"I guess you'd feel kind of bad writing someone out of existence? I'm trying to understand here."

"Well..." Acheron struggles with an answer. Yes, no? Both seem as valid as they are pointless. "It's not like people can suffer if they're never born."

"But you care about this person."

"Yes." Acheron answers without hesitation.

"So you want them to exist."

"I don't have a choice..." Acheron whines.

"I hope you're not planning to grab your kid's mum and force it to happen..."

Acheron looks disgusted. "No! How could you even think something like that?"

"I'm just trying to understand! Help me out here! How would you react if your lady doesn't want kids?"

"I wouldn't react at all. Eventually she'd change her mind. There's no way to explain predestination that will make sense to you. I'm not sure I even understand it myself yet. There are clearly rules to it."

"Why believe in something that doesn't make any sense?" Dysen asks.

"What, you mean like werewolves?"

"At least I obviously exist. You can see me. I'm right here."

"I used to know every answer to every test," Acheron sighs at his homework, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, anywhere. "I knew the questions before they were asked. But I can't hold onto that information anymore. I'm too worried about other stuff. I can barely see what's right in front of me now. That's why someone ended up dead."

"Someone who mind controls teenage girls," Dysen reminds him.

"Still, who am I to pick who lives and who dies?" Acheron needs this question answered more than Dysen can know.

Dysen reports his findings to Orazia. "Who knew accidentally using lethal force could turn someone into such an edgelord?"

"I'd be more worried if he didn't react," Orazia counters.

"He still won't say anything useful about this Claire or his weather spell."

"Just keep trying, Dysen."

Idle sketching.

It was nice to have a break from the constant exhaustion, but the nightmares continue to wake Acheron up in the middle of the night, so eventually he becomes desperately tired and irritable again.

"Overuse of the potion could kill you," Orazia protests, refusing to make more of it. "I'm trying to perfect something else for you to take. You could help me with it..."

Acheron shakes his head no.

"So you're declaring them failures before they're even made?"

"I'm a precog, I can do that," he reminds her.

"Well you didn't foresee me refusing to let you-"

"Why does nobody understand this?" Acheron whines. "If I let you know what I know, you get upset because I don't know more, I don't know everything. Or maybe I do, I just can't remember it all right now."

Anyone else would mock him for saying he might know everything, but Orazia is different. She has made every effort to understand. She backs down. "I'm sorry."

Acheron sits on the floor and curls up with his head and one arm on one of the pouf pillows. "I feel like I'm slowly dying. We're all slowly dying, sure, but this... do you think eventually I'd get your potion's effects if I just get tired enough? What if the sleep deprivation is making me hallucinate and I don't even know..."

"I think we need to find a way to block your psychic powers for good," Orazia says slowly. "It's not worth your health. Mental or physical."

Acheron sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Can't do that. There are things I have to know. Life and death things."

"Let's... review, then. Claire finds you and Ceth with some kind of talisman. Could we steal the talisman before she can use it?"

"Oh." Acheron chuckles joylessly. "Back to thievery again."

Orazia's cheeks flush. "Well, can we?"

"Her grandmother gives it to her the day of, so, I don't know where it is. I only see things that happen in my vicinity. Though if I'm right about how I'm calculating future info in the first place, I should be able to see more than that! I guess I just don't know how to make sense of things if they aren't centered around me as some kind of anchor sift- this is word salad isn't it? It's happening. I'm going insane."

"What if we all move to Monte Vista?"

"What part of 'somebody else dies' don't you get? I think my conscience is already fucked enough, don't you?" Acheron grips the cushion more tightly.

Orazia stares at her claws, silent.

"If I evade Claire, the next time we meet, she's prolonged her life with dark magic. By killing someone," Acheron adds. "It's not supposed to go that way. I'm supposed to help her with healing magic instead. You can't live as long with healing as you can with sacrificial dark magic, but it's enough to make most people happy. Most people."

Orazia frowns. "You teach her, like Aunt Izalee taught us?"

"Kinda sorta. The regenerative magic still needs my spirit to work, as much as it needs her witchcraft. It's kind of a hybrid spell, okay? So with my help she stays young-looking into her elder years and then... and then..." Acheron slams his fists against the cushion. "And then she does something stupid. Because of me. Why don't I just leave her?"

Orazia looks increasingly uncomfortable. "Why don't you just never get with her in the first place?"

"You don't want the answer to that question."

"If you're putting our family in danger by not running from this, I deserve to know."

"I was told that knowledge destroys everyone it touches."

"What?"

"I can't tell you!"

Orazia facepalms. "...You... are incredibly frustrating."

"I know." Acheron sobs once, dropping his face into the cushion.

"Finding you was a chore!" Gysael laughs. "I hate to fight with family. So why don't you get out of my way?"

Acheron watches her, not moving a step backward nor forward.

"I've been here before," she says, casting an unimpressed eye over the creepy skull temple embedded in a volcano. "Syndicate called it 'The Lair'. I didn't realize it had actual occult significance."

It's the end of this cycle. This portion of their universe, if not the entire universe, is soon to reset. Their lives will be over. Acheron guards the last hours, preventing any from disturbing the final preparations within the temple.

Gysael meets his cold stare with one of her own. "Kir's lackey is too good to talk to me I see."

Acheron shakes his head slowly.

She doesn't heed the warning. "Why did you turn on us? Why did you murder Loki?"

For a long moment it seems like he really doesn't care to talk to her, but then, his mouth opens... "Don't pretend you'll miss Loki."

She points her magic-infused katana at him. "So you really are the Acheron, aren't you? If I want to get to the underworld, if I want to see the end, I must cross you."

"You think the energy in the regenerative artifact you took from Faraday will have the opposite effect on a corrupted being like Kir," Acheron says, toneless. "You think it could be that simple."

Gysael isn't phased in the least to have her foolish plan laid out and scrutinized. "Well, aren't we all a little bit corrupted? Carrying anger over from past lives or something? I don't know if I believe that, I'll be honest, I'm just here to loot the place. The universe's oldest djinn has to have, like, an incredible treasure hoard."

"That's idiotic," Acheron says.

"I don't understand you at all. Kir made himself a god, at everyone else's expense. How are you alright with that? How can you simply accept what he does to Jaysen?" 

"Why do you always tell me you've come to loot the place, when it's so obvious that's not why you're here?"

Her composure breaks, revealing, for a second, the fury always lurking just beneath the skin. Then, she smiles. "So this will go down one of two ways." She takes a deep breath, then continues, "I kill a djinn, restoring our world to how it's supposed to be... or the djinn kills me, time restarts, and one day my parents make the mistake of having me all. Over. Again. So I have nothing to lose."

"You're skipping the part where you must cross me," Acheron replies.

He doesn't look very menacing, standing there with flowers on his shirt and a neutral expression.

Gysael's long ears twitch and her dark eyes narrow. "If you're being controlled, somehow... I'm sorry about this."

She makes the first move. She attacks.

"Hey," Acheron calls out. "Cat."

Maggie looks at him.

"Kay," Acheron clarifies.

"Hello Admin," Kay says.

What? Acheron shakes his head, trying to clear the fog. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"You don't need my permission," Kay says.

"Why... uh... why would. I. Or. Uh, anyone. Choose to help your brother?"

"Perhaps some do not wish to see things change."

"I've had visions where I lie to people, and hurt people, just to..."

"...to protect the cycles and ensure life begins again," Kay purrs.

"That doesn't make any sense," Acheron complains. "Why would I want that? My life sucks."

"Spoken like an adolescent."

"Sss," Acheron bares his teeth and fake-hisses at the cat. "If you recreate me without my memories then it's not even really still me. It's not a continuation. It's just a clone."

"Your spirit persists," Kay insists.

"Spirit generation is biological process, Kay. It's well-documented. Spirit energy is grown like anything else, as per genetic markers. We don't get our souls beamed into us from the soul dimension. You stupid cat."

The cat's fur puffs up for a moment, then resettles. "Fine. I am a stupid cat. But you are a stupid elf."

"You—"

"Your energy is returned to you because the spell wills it so. If keeping persons intact was not important, why not let the RNG of circumstance take its course? Why force you to exist at all? Or why not allow you to be any combination of your parents' genetics? Why must you always be Acheron?"

"Well who the heck even is that? Because the future me I keep seeing... that is not me."

"Hey kid," Ceth interrupts, "...everything okay in here, or did I just hear you calling one of the cats stupid?"

''...What else did you hear."

"Not much, maybe a cuss or two?"

"Sorry."

"No worries. Your Uncle Milo has some great news, this should cheer you up."

"...Eh?"

"We're all going to CHINA!!!"

Acheron stares. "Wh... why though?"

___________________________

As it turns out, Milo's boss, Mithun Khan, has ordered Milo to go train with the sim-fu masters, out of fear the aging sports star could lose his edge any day.

"I am NOT losing my edge," Milo complains.

"Indeed," Sima Zhi clucks. "Now, use your anger. Pretend the training dummy is your boss."

The sim-fu masters are wise.

And the rest of the family gets a vacation!

_____________________________________________
Etc.: In case you missed or were unsure how to interpret some of what Acheron told Orazia, Claire is not as young as she looks when she offs herself in Acheron's visions.

Happy Holidays everyone?!

Special consolations to those of us celebrating Life Day. We will get through this dark time.