We returned safely to Sky's Hope, and I was immediately grateful that Penta had stopped me from tampering with my soul. I wasn't sure if others could sense such things—but somehow, the city swarmed with paladins.
Was war brewing? It didn't seem so. They hadn't even halted Penelope and me at the gates, so they weren't hunting me—at least not yet. How were Linn and Rowan faring? Rowan worked alongside the paladins, but Linn was wanted. Whether this situation boded well or ill remained unclear. What exactly had happened?
"I completely forgot—the Hollowspire passes tonight," Penelope murmured, gazing skyward.
I followed her eyes to the massive vertical island descending upon us, its surface fortified with artificial structures. Rumor held that its interior was hollowed out entirely for habitation, its denizens willingly dwelling in perpetual darkness to build their kingdom aloft.
"Oh right," I whispered, "I'd forgotten too. These past few days have been… insane. No wonder the paladins are everywhere."
"Hm." She hummed noncommittally, still watching the floating fortress. "Now that we're hunters, we might be conscripted into battle."
"You think they'll attack?" I asked.
She frowned, squinting at the distant shape. From here, I couldn't see the thousands of insectoid climbers clinging to its outer walls, ready to leap down at a moment's notice. Though it orbited swiftly—visiting four times a year—I'd never witnessed the chaos firsthand, only heard tales of it. Everyone knew to stay indoors on Hollowspire nights.
"I don't know what they'll do, Vita. They haven't attacked in over a year. Maybe they've decided we're not worth the effort—or maybe they've just been preparing."
I nodded. Troublesome indeed… though, if there was a battle, I might feast on countless souls. That wouldn't be so bad.
"Woah, that shift in thought came outta nowhere," my mouth muttered without permission.
Penta! I... I didn't mean I want people to die—it's more like, if they're doomed anyway, I might as well—
"We need to find a private place to talk. Soon," she whispered urgently.
Fine, fine. I'll make it happen.
"Vita, I'd greatly appreciate it if you refrained from conversing with yourself in public and embarrassing me," Penelope said flatly. "We should report Remus to the Guild outpost—or perhaps go straight to the paladins, since they're everywhere now."
"No. Not the paladins. Let's go to the Guild instead."
"And naturally, I'm coming with you," she declared confidently. "Truthfully, I should handle this myself. He won't want to speak with you ."
"Rude," I wrinkled my nose. "And he'll want to speak with you , exactly why?"
"I'm a noble of the Vesuvia line. He has no choice but to listen."
"What exactly will you tell him?" I asked. "I'd rather not contradict you by accident."
"Just the truth," she replied. "No need for elaborate lies."
I frowned and pulled her into an empty alley.
"You're not going to mention Penta, are you? Honestly, I'd prefer not to be dragged out for saving everyone. Can't you take credit for that?"
She turned, narrowing her eyes at me.
"You're hiding something else, aren't you?"
"Yes," I admitted bluntly. "So let's not discuss it here."
"I don't like this," she told me. "Not one bit. You're suspicious, reckless, dangerous—and you expect me to simply comply? You've already made me compromise too much for that thing ."
"She just saved our lives," I hissed.
"She saved herself, dragging us along. That thing isn't human. Isn't your friend."
"Penelope, it'll be alright. I can—"
My words cut off abruptly as fear surged through me. My body seized—I reached instinctively for Penta's essence, ready to tear it free.
"May I say a word?" the slime purred sweetly. "I pose no threat to you now, Penelope. In fact, our roles have reversed. Now I am the prisoner. Poetic justice, don't you think?"
"You seem quite free to me, monster," Penelope growled. "Vita must sleep eventually. Then nothing stops you from taking another host and fleeing."
"Gratitude will stop me—if not, then fear."
"You can become anyone, anything. What do you have to fear, liar?"
"I fear Vita," Penta chirped cheerfully. "And once she tells you her secret, you'll fear her too."
Enough. My secrets are not yours to imply.
"Oh no, back in my cage again," Penta sighed. "Farewell."
Hey, wait—
"—That's not how it—" I protested, but Penta had already withdrawn into my spine, sulking beneath my skin, deaf to me once more. I scowled. What was that about?
Penelope glared at me silently for a long moment before sighing in frustration.
"...Fine, Vita. I'll play along—for now. But you promise to tell me whatever you're planning."
I exhaled sharply. Damn it. Fine. If the version of her with all her memories agreed… then perhaps I could risk it.
"I will. When there's a safe time to talk properly, I will. Promise. Just hear me out first, okay? It's… complicated."
"I'll listen. Doesn't mean I'll agree. And I won't lie about what you did to those slimes."
I frowned. Not ideal. I preferred keeping my killing ability under wraps, but compromises were inevitable.
"...You won't mention Penta?" I confirmed.
"Not willingly," she grumbled. "I won't help hide her—but I won't bring her up either."
"Fair enough," I conceded. "I should head home, make sure everyone's safe during the Hollowspire's passage. Meet me at the Guild later?"
She opened her mouth to argue but merely exhaled sharply instead.
"Fine," she relented. "See to the children's safety."
I grinned. Oh, she did care!
"Will do!"
As I sprinted home, I tapped my neck repeatedly. Was Penta sulking? I kept poking until she retook control—our running rhythm never faltered. She learned fast.
"What?" she snapped.
"You…" I hesitated. "...seemed upset? Everything okay?"
"Not really, Vita. This isn't the friendship dynamic I imagined. You act like you're helping me, trying to be kind—but always with the unspoken threat: 'Be my friend or I'll kill you!' Believe it or not, having a blade constantly at my throat is stressful."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "But if you escape or start multiplying, countless lives are at risk."
"Oh, like you're any better," Penta scoffed. "'Let me copy her,' 'harvest my offspring'—those thoughts keep circling. Fascinating."
"That was just a passing thought! I didn't seriously consider it!"
Unless she chose cooperation, I didn't know if replication could be avoided. So if it would happen anyway…
"You're thinking it now ," Penta pointed out. "Listen, Vita, I understand why you think this way. The longer I stay inside you, the more I grasp your mind. But the reverse doesn't hold. You need to try seeing my side."
"I can see your—"
"Don't argue with me," she interrupted. "Please. If you treat me like a tool, I'll internalize it. Eventually, that's all I'll become."
I frowned. I didn't treat her like a tool. I saved her life, gave her shelter in my body. What more did she want?
"Never mind. Forget I said anything," she huffed. "Just promise you won't get me killed by clashing with Penelope."
Nonsense. I wanted to be friends with Penelope. Still, curiosity stirred.
"Could she—"
"Yes, she could kill me. Easily. I might resist some diseases from her biomancy, but she has countless ways to end me remotely—and I have no doubt she'll invent more."
How? I wondered, stopping short of asking aloud.
"She's a learned biomancer. I have her memories. Therefore, I am a learned biomancer."
Impressive!
"No, quite the opposite."
You know exactly what I mean.
"And you accept this calmly? Don't you fear discovery?"
It is strange, I admitted. But ultimately, I never liked keeping secrets. If circumstances forced it, sharing them with someone like me felt… comforting.
"Believe me, I never wanted to be a monster. I hope your family sees us differently. We're almost home."
I knew.
I dashed toward the cabin, brimming with energy from recent soul-feasts. I knocked, and Linn yanked me into a tight embrace.
"Vita! You're back!" she beamed. "Perfect timing! Can you stay and help protect us during the Hollowspire?"
"Oh god, uh…" I blinked, caught off guard. "I'd love to help, if needed. But I promised the Guild—I should go first. Can we go underground first?"
"Uh… sure," Linn said, puzzled. "Are you alright, kid?"
"Down! Down! Down!" I insisted.
I leapt down the hatch, landing easily—no injury worries anymore. Linn followed, concerned. Rowan waited below, turning with a wide grin when I landed.
"Vita! Hey! How are you?"
"Strange!" I laughed, rushing to hug him.
He spun me around.
"What kind of strange?" he asked.
Linn closed the hatch behind her, thoughtful.
"Well… do you think I lack empathy?"
"Eh… not exactly," Rowan diplomatically hedged. "You just view the world differently. Always through your own lens."
"But that's normal," Linn added. "Everyone does. Why the sudden question?"
"The parasite living in my head and copying my memories says I lack empathy."
Silence.
"I mean, normally I'd dismiss her as nonsense," I continued, "but… she knows me pretty well, right?"
Rowan and Linn exchanged glances—confused, wary.
"...Vita. What have you done?"
"Nothing!" I protested. "Well, technically a lot. Listen—on our return, both Penelope and Remus were infected by mind-controlling slimes. Their intelligence matched their hosts'. Remus's was evil—he tried infecting me. But Penelope's was good, helped heal the kids. So I spared her. But she needs a host. Being trapped in her own body was a nightmare for real-Penelope. So I let her stay in mine. Her name's Penta—she's half-me, half-Penelope. And if anyone finds her, she's dead. Want to meet her?"
"Sure!" Linn said, accepting madness with practiced ease.
Penta took over smoothly, adjusting my posture—more like Penelope's usual poise. Perhaps to ease Linn and Rowan.
"Greetings," she said. "I know this is unsettling, but I'm glad to finally meet you two."
"Hello… Penta," Rowan greeted cautiously. "What exactly are you?"
"A semi-transparent, gelatinous entity roughly two inches in diameter. I infiltrate nervous systems, reading and forging neural commands. 'Mind-controlling slime' suffices."
"So you can just… do that to anyone?"
"To anyone, yes," Penta confirmed. "Don't worry—leaving Vita means death."
"So we switch control!" I interjected.
"She mostly hides," Penta explained. "Her innate abilities suppress me while I inhabit her. Somehow, I retain access to them when I take over."
"You know," Rowan sighed, "every time I feel safe trusting you, Vita, you find new ways to terrify me."
"She's still a teenager," Penta quipped. "Fathers always feel this way."
Rowan choked, coughing violently. Hey! Rowan isn't my dad!
"Vita, Rowan practically is your father. And Linn is—"
Linn's face twitched slightly.
"—like your older sister," Penta finished smoothly.
Linn smiled, visibly appeased.
"I like her!"
"This is betrayal!" I protested. "Linn is my mother, you know that!"
"Can we focus on the slime parasite from outside the city living in your brain before discussing familial metaphors?" Rowan groaned.
"Right. I probably need hiding," Penta said.
"Really?" I asked. "Biomancers can't detect you, right?"
"I lied," she admitted. "Using Penelope's spells, I could detect myself. And if the Guild knows about Navarra, they likely have other countermeasures."
"Where could we hide you…?" I murmured, looking between Linn and Rowan.
"No way," Rowan firmly raised his hands. "Vita, I love you to pieces—but every time you surprise me, it's worse than the last. No way am I involved."
"Yeah, honey, please don't implant your parasitic roommate into anyone else," Linn added gently. "No offense, Penta—but absolutely not."
I frowned but nodded. Body possession wasn't pleasant.
"Sorry," Penta whispered.
It's fine, I replied inwardly. I knew what I was getting into. But now—we needed to hide you. How long can you survive outside a host?
"Not long," she admitted. "Minutes without a host, I begin starving. Based on what I've observed, my body starts consuming my own soul for energy—which may explain my memory loss."
I frowned.
"Fascinating. So you can consume souls?"
"Not like you. You've seen dying creatures' souls weaken, right? Without a host, ours degrade similarly. Our bodies can't function independently—we don't die normally, we consume ourselves ."
"Could we put you in a rat?"
"Possibly. But their brains wouldn't sustain me. Eventually, I'd lose myself."
"I thought Penelope disproved the link between brain and soul."
"I have theories," Penta said. "We could test them using you. Later. First, survive today."
I glanced at Linn and Rowan—calm, patient, waiting for me to stop muttering like a madwoman.
"I'm surprised neither of you questions the mind-controlling slime."
"Eh, compared to soulweaving, it's not that shocking," Linn shrugged. "Anyway, to celebrate your return—we got you another bucket of rats."
"Oh, perfect!" I beamed.
"Told you she'd like it," Linn nudged Rowan, who buried his face in his palm.
"By the Watcher, why is my whole family so unhinged?"
"Cause you love it," Linn teased, trailing fingers down his cheek.
Gross. I grabbed the bucket, gleefully ripping souls free. Rats shrieked as their kin died en masse, trapped among corpses. I devoured them like popcorn. Delicious.
"Keep one for me. Until we find a better plan," Penta said, halting my hand. Her brief control sent a flicker of anger through me—but I inhaled, suppressing it.
"Good idea," I admitted. "I also want to try fusing a rat corpse with the Navarra soul Remus implanted in me. I've kept it. Might contain useful information."
Penta was silent for a long moment.
"...Fine. Do it. I have no attachment to her—and she might indeed have useful data."
"Woah, wait!" Linn interjected. "You want to make a zombie in our house?"
"Not a zombie," I corrected. "An ectoplasmic ."
"Is that safe?" she asked.
"Vita controls them," Rowan said. "Though I can't say whether paladins detect them."
"No paladins nearby," I replied. "Souls within two hundred meters are too weak."
"Still feels risky," Linn hesitated.
"If paladins detect soul anomalies, we're already doomed. Mine's nearly hatching."
"Hatching?" Rowan asked. "What does that mean?"
"I have no idea."
I pulled a rat corpse and the Navarra soul from the bucket, placing them together. They fused seamlessly. The rat blinked, confused, squeaking softly.
"Hey, little one," I cooed. "Can you understand me?"
It nodded, darting to a dirty patch on the floor, scratching symbols. My reading skills were poor—but improving. Slowly, I recognized the message:
Hi, Mommy!
...And just like that—I understood exactly how Linn felt staring at it.