Scarlett stared at The Other.

Her lips parted. Closed. Opened again.

"Shit."

The word escaped before she could stop it.

"Damn."

One of The Other's brows rose.

"Crap."

"Are the crudities really necessary?" he asked, faintly amused. "They don't quite suit the look you're wearing."

Scarlett ignored him, fingers coming up to her lips in stunned self-check. She had a hard time believing those words had come out of her mouth. Out of Scarlett Hartford.

It wasn't that it pleased her to say them. They felt wrong. Coarse. Base. Vulgar. Words she would never have allowed herself to utter normally — yet there was no force that had stopped them. No unseen pressure that made her want to gag. No gentle choke of personality rails forcing her tone into refinement.

Her gaze slid to the side.

[Name: Scarlett Hartford] [Skills: [Major Mana Control] [Superior Pyromancy] [Argent Pyrokinesis] [Superior Hydromancy] [Major Hydrokinesis] [̼̭̬̋̈́̒͜ ̧̘̜́ͣ͛͛ͅ ͚̜̓͜ͅ ̢̰͚̾̏ͅ ̮̿͆̒͠ ̢̾̏ͅ ̢̰̾̏ͅ]] [Traits: [Dignified August] [Supercilious] [Cavalier] [Callous] [Overbearing] [Conceited] [Third-rate Mana Veins]] [Mana: 2319/13131] [Points: 153]

The traits were still there. The system was still there. She could still feel their pull — a low, persistent tide in the background. But… only now did she recognise that they weren't the same crushing dictates as before. He hadn't lied. They no longer bound her completely.

How had she not noticed earlier?

How comfortable had she grown with Scarlett Hartford's traits living as her own?

How reliant?

…She had killed people earlier. Cabal. Without flinching. How much of that had been the Scarlett part of her, and how much had been Amy?

"Many questions, are there?" The Other said lightly, that smile of his not truly reaching the eyes. "I'll answer two. Do try to keep them on topic."

Scarlett looked back at him. The seconds passed as he idly regarded her from the edge of her old bed.

"…How did this happen?" she asked first. Despite the jolt of the revelation, it was almost easy to marshal her tone. That much was a thoroughly ingrained habit. The embers of anger still burned, even if they had dampened with this news.

The Other waved a hand. "How does anything happen, but by the whims of gods and fate?"

She narrowed her eyes.

He chuckled. "That is to say, very few could tamper with your system, and you've already met nearly all of them. As for your traits, those aren't something the local gods can readily touch. Saira, however—even as a shattered, fugitive shade of what she once was—had no such limitation. We could debate whether this particular alteration was deliberate or simply the consequence of proximity to the turbulent edge of an unstable primordial fracture, but the result is the same either way."

Scarlett's mouth thinned as her thoughts returned to that encounter. She didn't remember feeling anything shift then…but Fate's fracture had shown a peculiar interest in her life as Amy, even half-sentient as the entity was. She didn't know why it would have interfered with the system's traits, but maybe it was meant as a gift?

"Your second question?" The Other prompted.

A crease formed between her brows. "…Is this permanent?"

"That depends," he said. "Would you prefer me to reinstate the traits as they were?"

"No."

"Then it's permanent. I would say you've earned that much. And, as I believe I have made clear, I do have something of a soft spot for you."

"You have a twisted way of showing it."

His smile tugged faintly wider. "Perhaps."

A stretch of silence passed between them as they simply watched each other. Then he clapped twice, and the room fell away. They were in the sea of grass again, with him perched on the same lichen-spotted rock as before.

"Now," he said, elbows to knees, chin resting on folded hands, leaning forward, "I know the worries looping in your mind. The boundaries. As ever, you ask yourself where the line between Amy Bernal and Scarlett Hartford is drawn. Where you'd have it drawn. Whether you can return to being only Amy. Whether there's any point. I won't answer any of that for you. You've had ample time to stew on those questions, but little means to test the answers. Now, perhaps, you do. What you do with it is yours."

"You created these circumstances."

"I'll take some blame, not all." The man shrugged. "If assigning guilt is your pastime, you could always look up my old friend Time. As you've seen, he's not short on it. Speaking of—" He glanced at an empty wrist, as if checking a watch. "Our time is nearly done. I promised you the smallest slice of what you wanted, and I've already been more generous than intended."

"I still have questions," Scarlett said, her tone hardening. "There remain matters you must answer for."

"I'm sure there do. But I'm equally sure bottling those questions and tempers won't trouble you. You have always been remarkably good at that, haven't you? What was it your sister once called you? The 'Queen of Petty'?"

A sharp fire sparked in Scarlett's eyes, and she reached—mostly on instinct—for her Anomalous power. "You think—"

He raised a single finger. The words died in her mouth. The power guttered, snuffed cleanly, and her body locked as if caught in cold wire.

"That's time, I'm afraid," he said, wagging the finger idly. "Don't worry, Amy. Or Baroness Hartford, if you prefer. We'll meet again. Now that you've attended to Fate, the rules of the game have changed, and I find myself very curious to see where all of this leads." His smile thinned into something sharper. "I may involve myself a little more directly, even, with my nudges."

Scarlett managed one step forward — only to find he was gone. The field of grass was missing as well. She was standing once more on the platform, surrounded by blackness, Slate only a couple of steps away.

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Yamina, at the platform's edge, watched closely, as if waiting for an answer.

"Are you alright, Baroness?" the woman asked, lowering her spellbook and brushing a hand against her gold-rimmed glasses. A faint shimmer crossed the lenses.

Scarlett took a moment to collect herself, glancing around before focusing on Yamina. "…What was it that you said?"

"I asked about what you invoked in the geas," Yamina said. "You mentioned 'The Other,' no?"

"I…did. Yes."

[Main questline updated: "The time of upheaval"] {The Tribute of Dominion rests in Baroness Scarlett Hartford's hands. The rules of the world have been rewritten. A time of upheaval is fast approaching. None can say what comes next} [Objective: Choose or build a faction to weather the coming storm] [Reward: One request] [Failure: A debt]

[Until next time]

Scarlett couldn't entirely help the glare she sent at the system windows as they appeared, not that they cared. The first appeared as cold and impersonal as ever, so detached it made her wonder if it was truly issued by the same hand as the second.

But both were, without a doubt, sent by The Other. Which meant he'd just dropped another leash onto her. Another 'quest' for him to watch play out from wherever he lurked.

On top of the one already tied to Skyler.

"Something appears to be on your mind," Yamina observed.

Scarlett pulled her gaze from the windows to the woman. She studied her, eyes eventually dropping to the spellbook in Yamina's hands. "…You told me before we would discuss that book the next time we met. I would prefer that discussion take place now."

Yamina's eyes widened slightly. Then, an odd, swift understanding settled there. "Ah. I see. Now that's interesting. Am I right to assume you've just had a rather unique experience?"

Scarlett nodded once. "Yes."

Yamina placed a hand across her spellbook, thoughtful for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "I did say we'd discuss it, but I can't yet. As mentioned, I won this in a wager, and there are still several hoops I need to pass through before I'm permitted to say more. Dealing with Fate was one of them, as it happens, but not the only one."

"Did The Other give you that book?" Scarlett asked simply.

The woman paused, then a light, knowing smile touched her lips, followed by a quiet chuckle. "And with that, you've removed another of the hoops. Thank you. Though to answer your question, I can't be certain. I understand very little about them myself."

"How many 'hoops' remain before you can discuss this?"

"Two. But don't worry. They should be manageable on my own. Though they will require some preparations I can't do here."

Scarlett frowned but inclined her head. "Then we will speak again, when you can. And…perhaps then we can also discuss my experience just now."

"I would like that very much," Yamina said.

Scarlett's gaze lingered on the book. By now she was convinced it—along with every other strange prophetic volume she'd encountered, like Arlene's journal and Princess Regina's picture book—was a work of The Other. She just didn't know why.

"Shall I continue facilitating our return?" Yamina asked.

"Yes," Scarlett said, gesturing.

What she truly wanted was to return to the Hartford estate and lock herself in her office. She had learned too much in Beld Thylelion, and now, with what she'd discovered about the system traits, she desperately needed space to think.

To process.

But the world wouldn't wait. And maintaining the persona of Scarlett Hartford wasn't difficult, despite the revelations. There was a part of her questioning whether she could still maintain the Amy Bernal persona if she tried — but she buried that thought for later.

Yamina raised her hands, weaving runes in the air. Sparks shimmered at her fingertips, and new arrays bloomed above, shifting and reconfiguring. Soon, the blackness around them began to thin.

Scarlett felt the pull of transition. A slow, inevitable tug of displacement.

The void peeled back, and once more, it revealed glimpses of other realms: fantastical forests, drowned abysses, endless planes of misery and torment, and more.

Eventually, the platform slid into a presence that felt new to Scarlett. Calling it a realm seemed wrong. Light enclosed them on every side, but unlike the golden ocean of Fate, this felt less like a place than an all-encompassing condition — light as the only shape the mind could give it.

Peering into it felt like staring at an empty plot of land. A plot of land that radiated divinity.

Was this…the gods' plane? Or something more like the connective tissue that held their domains together?

Scarlett knew that, unlike Viles or Idols, most gods were anchored to an element or mode and didn't exist in realms in the ordinary sense. What they occupied were more like partitions, half-places, or elemental planes — the sort of nowhere she'd met Itris in. To her, this light felt similar, so perhaps it was akin to the webwork tying all those planes to one another.

Strangely, the place felt…hot. Not in temperature, but like water about to boil. There was a tension stretching across the brightness that she couldn't quite name.

"That's curious." Yamina had paused, peering into the light. "I suspect the gods might be…fighting."

Scarlett glanced over. "How can you tell?"

"I can't. But I have seen this once before, and it did not feel the same." Yamina's voice was calm but thoughtful. "I don't know how conversant you are with the divine, but gods in general are sharply restricted in how they act beyond their planes. From what I've read, those restrictions have three cords. One is the architecture of the world itself; it simply doesn't permit them to reach far outside their domains. Another is the Veil of Convergence, which also denies the demons of the Blazes free passage into the Material. And the third, lesser-known cord, is Fate itself."

"Fate, which no longer exists," Scarlett said.

"Precisely. With that cord cut, they may test how far the other two will hold. I imagine there's tension. Maybe anger from some at Fate's dissolution, and eagerness from others to exploit the opening."

Scarlett kept her gaze on the light, thinking. That's when she felt it. Like a distant hand on a rope pulling through her awareness.

An instant later, the space before her ignited. A figure sprouted from fire that contained no red, no orange, no white, but something colourless and consuming. Two incandescent orbs—not eyes, but something like them—fixed on her.

"Contractor."

The sound that reached her wasn't voice. It was the impression of one. Heat shaped into meaning.

"Itris," Scarlett said evenly.

Fire incarnate. Even with what could only be a partial projection, presence rolled off the goddess in waves. She extended something that resembled a hand.

"Trade."

Scarlett looked at it. "…I do not have the remnant of Fate's fracture you asked for."

She knew what the goddess wanted. One of the [Sparks of Divinity]. But she'd already used the two she had received.

A moment passed. The flames surged higher, and Scarlett had to clamp down with her pyrokinesis to keep the platform itself from melting beneath them.

"Betrayal."

The facsimile of a voice held no tone, but anger pattered against her skin like ashfall.

"I agreed to no bargain," she said. "And I have never been your follower."

The heat edged bluer, threads of white searing through its core.

"With that said," Scarlett continued, "I respect your power. And what you have offered me."

A flicker passed through the fire — as close to restraint as the goddess showed.

Scarlett raised one hand, letting a trace of Anomalous power bloom above her palm in a veil of pale grey luminescence that warped faintly. "I do not wish to be your enemy, Itris. After what I have just achieved, I would think you would not wish me as yours, either. Consider your position seriously. You stand to gain more with me as an ally than otherwise."

The goddess stared, or at least that's what it seemed like. The heat neither rose nor faded. Several slow seconds passed.

Then the burning figure inclined its head, just barely.

"We will speak."

With that, the fire unravelled. The heat lingered, though Scarlett smothered it with a thought.

She wasn't sure how to interpret that, but assumed it meant Itris would reach out again. Hopefully, that was a good sign. She had little love for the goddess, but if the gods would get more involved from now on, having one not actively against her would help.

"Well," Yamina said. "Another curious development. I wasn't aware you were on speaking terms with a goddess, Baroness."

Scarlett shook her head. "If only that were all."

Her gaze went back to the surrounding brightness, which began to thin as Yamina resumed her work. Darkness returned in slow folds. A few more realms slid past as well, but only briefly.

Eventually, the void peeled away for the last time, and stone, geometry, and quiet air took their places as the Forgotten Tower's chamber opened around them. The crystals above were dim now, the lightning-threads that had wound between them gone. The countless arrays and runes etched into the floor lay dull and lifeless.

Scarlett's eyes first went to the runic circle at the chamber's edge, where her party waited, eyes landing on her. Seeing them unharmed, she allowed herself a quiet nod before turning to Slate.

The pale girl stood exactly as Scarlett had last seen her, scythe upright, utterly motionless, watching.

"…You are allowed to move," Scarlett said.

Slate was silent in response, but a small, precise frown gathered between her brows. She seemed to weigh the statement as if it were a blade handed to her by a stranger.

The moment stretched.

Scarlett exhaled. "Move."

The frown eased. Slate took a step.

Scarlett's gaze rested on her a beat longer, then swept the chamber, taking it all in and letting the weight of what had transpired settle into place.

She supposed what came next was cleanup.

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