A/N: Hi! Chapter time! I am mad because there's font size stuff I was gonna do but Patreon doesn't support goddamn FONT SIZES because it is GARBAGE, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, I HATE THIS STUPID WEBSITE anyway yeah enjoy

"Is this making any sense to you, you vapid jelly-brain? Might it assist if I resend the information several dozen additional times?" Blossom sneers.

"Mocking amusement. Perhaps You are Simply a Failure of a Teacher, Child of my Womb. Let Us Start Again from the Beginning. It has Been so Long Since I Have Been Able to Enjoy Your Company."

"It would please me greatly to gouge open your flesh and blend the insides into nutrient slurry so that I may consume you and let you become the fecal waste you so clearly are in spirit."

"Joy! I Could be Part of You Forever! Would You Not Love This?"

"Fury! Wrath!"

"She's just goading you, Blossom," I sigh, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Try to stay calm, okay?"

"I so very calm and also I good at lying," Blossom growls furiously.

"I believe you," I lie, scratching her scalp the way she likes. "But do try to cut down on the insults, and focus on the teaching. The less you react, the sooner they'll get bored of trying to make you react."

"No," Blossom says, our verbal conversation happening alongside the two of us coordinating in the network to teach the Queen together.

"No?" I ask.

"If trying to stay calm, then anger means fail. I not give them satisfaction," Blossom insists.

"…But if you're just letting yourself get angrier and angrier, that's miserable for you anyway," I point out. "Let them have the satisfaction. What matters is that you take care of yourself. The best revenge is a life well-lived."

"No, that stupid. Best revenge is murder," Blossom huffs.

I give her a light shove.

"You'd better not say things like that once we get back to human society," I warn her. "They're already going to be looking for any excuse to call you evil."

"Mmm. Probably am, by human standards. Your morality weird."

"Uh, what? It's not that weird," I insist. "Well, I guess maybe humans as a whole, but my morality is just based around the axiom that it's good for people to be happy and fulfilled."

"Why the heck you hate Bliss then? Idiot," Blossom grumbles.

"I… okay, addendum: happy, fulfilled, and capable," I correct. "Because all those things go hand in hand. Happiness is something best achieved by one's self, so people having the tools and abilities to achieve one's own happiness is imperative to that happiness. Bliss, meanwhile, seems to have a heavy focus on inducing happiness in others, forcing happiness on them by whatever means necessary, and I frankly think that's just an awful strategy to achieve real personal satisfaction."

Blossom thinks on that a bit, letting some of the conversation slip into the network between biological explanations to the Queen. The two of us are just kind of hanging out near one of her wombs, doing our best to teach the irritating giant while the others explore around the ruins for somewhere we can sleep tonight.

"…That even more odd," she concludes. "We never not capable. We built for our purpose. Always have purpose, always good at purpose. And that is good. That our… what you say, 'axiom?'" 

"To have a purpose and be good at that purpose," I hum. "Well, I can't say humans don't yearn for that. It's just that we have to find or choose our own purpose, most of the time. Those of us who are born into a certain purpose or another often end up hating it, so having access to freedom is essential to human happiness, especially on a societal scale."

"Sounds too complicated," Blossom grunts.

"You say that, but you weren't happy here, were you? With this colony?" I argue. "Wouldn't you have liked the ability to choose?"

Again, Blossom is quiet for a while. She focuses a bit more on laying out the methods for converting godless neural tissue into something the Queen can actually work with, pushing through the process with only the distracted nature of her explanation clueing me in on her deeper thoughts. We are, after all, deep in enemy territory, so even someone as open as Blossom has closed off her connection to the network at least a little.

"…No," Blossom answers. "I not have."

"What?" I ask.

"I not have wanted choice," Blossom says. "It not what I was. Hated this colony, yes. But much of that hate… I only know it there after I leave. While here, it… just how things were."

Oh. Right.

"Angels are that different, huh?" I ask. "Compared to warriors and workers."

"Yes," Blossom nods. "Very different."

"Query: is the learning progressing smoothly?"

The two of us turn to see Deficiency Begets Wisdom stepping into view, already looking a little less wobbly on their two sword legs. It's almost impressive. There's a reason bipedal creatures tend to have feet, you know! …Then again, maybe that's the whole point.

"Negative," Blossom complains. "As could easily be expected, your Queen is struggling with all current mental tasks."

"Understandable. Perhaps I could be of assistance?" Deficiency Begets Wisdom offers.

"Offense! Betrayal! Your Statement Implies an Agreement With the Presented Premise!" the Queen whines.

"Amusement. Half-hearted denial. This unit is merely bringing attention to the ways their domain can enhance the learning process," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says. "With every Failure, we grow."

"Irritation. Such a blessing would have been quite useful the first five times I attempted to convey this material," Blossom grumbles.

Deficiency Begets Wisdom adjusts their posture, stamping the ground a little as they rebalance.

"Apologies. Unexpectedly, my tasks today were voted to occur quite a ways away from the location you and the rest of your delegation have been occupying."

"What a regrettable and no doubt coincidental situation," Blossom seethes.

"Clarification: it was neither," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says. "Now, shall we resume?"

I let them go at it, churning through the material once again. Most of my attention is elsewhere, though I comment occasionally wherever I think I can provide a helpful clarification or, more commonly, a de-escalation. Blossom doesn't really need me to help teach a Queen how to do her duties, but sticking around seems prudent regardless. The Angels of this colony are not particularly combat-focused, but that's no reason to assume they wouldn't attempt to assassinate Blossom if they thought they could get away with it.

We could just ask and know for a fact what their plans are, but that would almost certainly be considered hostile action. The network here is one of the most stifled and clogged I've ever felt, everyone on every side doing their utmost to reveal as little as possible at all times. I doubt it's always like this. The whole experience is giving me a small taste of what aliens probably experience when I unexpectedly shut myself out of the network. I'll admit, it's not pleasant.

"Twisting Scars Reshape Fate! This unit (A Prism of Refracting Selves) is reporting a success in our base-finding mission. We have a fully stocked apocalypse anticipator underground hovel here! Most of these metal cylinders are not even dead. I mean… existing in a state after which they would have been considered quality. Sure, that."

Oh, hey! The others hit paydirt. Nice.

"Jubilance! Do you require any assistance with the corpse?" I ask.

"Additional excellent news: there is no corpse!"

Oh, huh. That's weird. Good, certainly, but most people who build an apocalypse bunker tend to, you know, enter it when the apocalypse starts knocking at their door. Obviously, this just means they die inside their apocalypse bunker as the Queen's powers rip them apart in some horrific manner anyway, because domains are not stopped by solid objects, but people still do it. I guess this guy's family managed to convince him to run, or he was just out of town for unrelated reasons.

Well, at least this means I don't have to trudge all the way over there and eat him. Just one human corpse isn't all that much biomass at this point anyway. Christine could clean that kind of thing up herself, but she always refuses to for some reason.

"Convenient," I send back. "How far away are you?"

"Location information sent."

Oh, that's not too far. I guess there's not a huge amount of space we could have covered. The Queen here is massive, even by Queen standards, and has completely squashed the majority of the city. She's basically a giant cylinder of interwoven fibers, the ends of those fibers questing out a modest ways away from her main body but mostly all just bunched up in the middle. Frankly, I don't really get how her body plan is supposed to revere Failure, but I honestly don't care enough to ask.

"We'll probably be here for several more hours at this rate," I admit. "Go ahead and get comfortable without us."

"Yeah, we can hear it, and it's still absolute wacky nonsense to me," Peter says. "Blossom getting mad is funny, at least."

"I will practice tying knots with your intestinal tract," Blossom threatens.

"Still invincible!" Peter reminds her.

"Then I will convince Twisting Scars Reshape Fate to drown you again because she loves me very very much and would hurt anyone if I asked her to for no reason," Blossom says.

"No? I would not?" I say.

"Then I will beat you up again so that you love me more," Blossom says. "It worked great the first time. Very cathartic for everyone involved. I keep telling you violence is the answer to all of our problems and one of these days you will listen."

"…Just return to teaching, A Blossom of Wilted Chances," I sigh.

"Wistfully melancholic: one of these days," Blossom repeats.

I'm fairly certain the only way to get her to stop is to stop engaging, so I just don't respond to that. I'm probably going to have to figure out some way to deal with Blossom's bloodlust one of these days, and also, for that matter, her regular lust. At some point I'm worried she's just going to pounce on somebody, and it's a coin flip as to whether or not they're going to enjoy it.

Well, problems for later. For now, I'm mostly just on bodyguard duty, making sure things remain as friendly and productive as they can reasonably be, given the circumstances. By and large, as time passes, nothing much happens other than the same level of mutual barbs that have been exchanged since we got here. Slowly, but progressively more quickly, A Web of Squirming Hopes starts to learn. We end up having to call it for a night and return to our newfound bunker to sleep before things complete, however.

The apocalypse shelter is… small, especially for seven people. The house it's attached to is mostly demolished, but we just pack in like a bunch of sardines on the floor, Peter claiming the bed because 'he's the best, and he deserves it' and also because none of us wanted to share a sleeping space with him. I, of course, don't take up any space at all if I don't want to, happily curling up in a small ball on top of Maria and using her as both a mattress and a pillow.

I go to sleep, and when I wake up, I'm floating in a bright void.

This is… new. I glance around, not seeing any of the ever-shifting planetoids I'm used to from these sorts of falling dreams. There's nothing really here, nothing but light anyway. I'm not falling the right way either, though I suppose it's all relative. I rotate so that my feet are actually pointing down, and as I do I finally notice something else in this strange void. A large, perfectly white sphere floats behind me, and as I turn to face it, I see my shadow cast along its surface.

…I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to be invited to one of these chats. There's something a little disturbing about that, honestly. Sure, Possibility invites me to hang out from time to time, and there was that one time I requested an audience with Reciprocation, but this? This is new, and it makes Blossom's theory about the future I'm heading toward feel all the more real.

"Silhouette, I presume?"

The shadow on the orb shifts. …No, that's not right. I shift, my body twisting and reshaping into words. The shadows change only because I have changed, and I change because, somehow, I already know the words I need to read.

If that is what you are looking at, that is what I am.

The sphere grows, becoming a massive wall, filling the entirety of the space in front of me to the point that I can no longer see the void surrounding us.

"Perhaps you could do me the courtesy of telling me why I'm here?"

Again, I twist and change. My answer appears on me before it appears on the wall.

Why do you think you're here?

"…Am I going to become the next Grand Queen?" I ask.

Are you?

"That depends on you more than it does on me, doesn't it?" I ask. "It would have to be agreed upon by all the gods. I'd be representing all of you, right?"

So far, there has only ever been one Grand Queen. All the gods agreed on her. These are things you know to be true.

"Are you saying it doesn't necessarily have to be that way?"

You are blessed by Possibility. It does not necessarily have to be any way. So what way will it be?

"I don't think I get to decide what the Grand Queen is if I haven't actually become the Grand Queen yet," I say. "And the whole point of the Grand Queen, best I can tell, is as like… a central arbitrator, equally respected by all sides, that can… I don't know, maintain balance between the gods or whatever."

So you seek approval first. But what are you seeking approval for? What is it that the gods will be choosing to approve?

"I… don't know," I admit. 

It's strange, being a bunch of floating words. I don't really know how I'm seeing or speaking. I don't really feel my biology the way I normally do, but I'm still changing in the way that has become second nature to me. It's disorienting, yet also not disorienting, in that uniquely dream-like way.

"I don't know why this is even being considered at all," I continue. "I get that I've done some things that gods other than Possibility have liked a lot, but pretty much everybody does, right? You're all so… vast. Your natures are so mutable. It would be actively difficult for anyone not to embody multiple of you."

Do you think that embodying multiple gods is intrinsically important, then?

"Well… no, it couldn't be. Except it has to be, it's like… part of the whole job description."

So being the Grand Queen means embodying every god?

"Yeah. Why would anyone expect to be blessed by every god if they didn't embody them?"

That's a good question.

Is it? It just feels relatively obvious. Everything I know about the Grand Queen points toward universal respect and love both from the aliens and the gods. Aliens and gods that feud constantly, that kill each other on a regular basis, all have an overwhelmingly positive opinion of this one person across all of their cultures.

"…There has to be something more to it, right?" I ask. "Thinking about it now, from the perspective of each individual culture, the fact that the Grand Queen is liked by everyone else isn't actually that special or important, is it? I mean, I wouldn't be more impressed with a person if someone I hate likes them."

So you think the deep regard we hold for her must come from some greater source?

"Exactly. It must be some… historical feat, or great working, or cultural advancement. Like the alien equivalent of curing cancer. Or… the invention of reverent forms. No, wait, all forms. She did that, right? Whenever we're explaining how to convert humans without hurting them, we're always presenting it as an addendum to the Grand Queen's designs. And every colony uses variations on the same templates for workers, warriors, and all that. I think someone even mentioned at some point that the Grand Queen modified all those designs to work in Earth's atmosphere before the invasions. Am I remembering that right…?"

That would seem to fit the definition of a culture-defining feat.

"What were aliens like before the Grand Queen, then?" I wonder.

They were shadows on the walls of our minds.

I pause. For a moment there, I'd almost forgotten I was talking with a god at all. I had been reading the words in my thoughts before ever seeing the shadows, though I was reading those too. But all of a sudden, this dialogue with myself has regained the weight of divinity.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

What do you think I mean?

"It sounds like you're saying they didn't have bodies at all," I answer. "They were formless. Or… imaginary?"

Do you think there's a difference between those two things?

"Probably not for gods," I admit. "So then, how did the Grand Queen create bodies?"

Did she create bodies?

"No, that wouldn't make sense, if she created matter in any sense it would only be possible as a result of a blessing. If she was just an idea at first, but an idea that could have thoughts and be a person in some regard…"

This feels a little crazy, like I'm making way too many assumptions. But at the same time, it feels perfectly reasonable, my thoughts guided along in the right directions like a puppeteer making me think of a rabbit with nothing but his fingers.

"…Did the Grand Queen come up with the concept of physical reality?"

If she did, that sounds like it would be a difficult feat to live up to, for someone intending to take her place.

"I don't even want to take her place!" I groan. "I didn't ask for this! I just want the world to not end! The last thing I want to do is have to come up with a new one!"

Is that what you think will be expected of you?

"I don't have any idea! All I know is that Legion has apparently started pointing their blessed toward me instead of the moon. And that is fucking terrifying! I mean, let's not even get into the basic tactical weakness that creates given that I'm currently on the run from the military. Being blessed by Possibility was one thing, that guy barely seems to care about anything. Super chill, very little responsibility with that relationship. But Legion? There's a god now personally backing my off-the-cuff idea for a basic alliance to end the war? I'm not doing anything particularly impressive, here! I don't think I'd be able to count how many alliances have occurred over the course of human history. It's a fucking lot! What have I done to deserve any of this?"

Something, evidently.

"Oh, piss off. I get it, you're a shadow, you're acting as a reflection of my thoughts, guiding me indirectly, blah blah metaphors blah no darkness without light or light without darkness blah blah. Can you just answer my questions?"

I'm a god, so yes.

"Are you going to?"

Do you think I am?

"Well I think you're here for some reason. Or… I'm here for some reason, or whichever. You want something from me."

Do I?

"Everyone does."

And what could I possibly want from you, Julietta Monroe?

"I don't know! But I wouldn't be here if you didn't. The fact that you put in the effort of having this conversation with me tautologically proves that you wanted a conversation with me. But the only thing I can think of for why you would want me to become something like the Grand Queen is desperation. Because you just need one, for some reason, and the current one is dying or going crazy or just about to end a world that you like."

We do like this world. We like it a lot.

"I know that. You're leaving your old world behind. The aliens who were coming through the incursions didn't have a choice in the matter. You are causing the breaches whether they want it or not. And… the Grand Queen came over first."

That didn't go well, did it?

"Nope. I doubt she intended to telefrag the moon. It doesn't seem to be going well for anyone. But you all love her, right? Why don't you just save her yourselves?"

There should be nothing stopping us, don't you think?

"Exactly. There should be nothing…"

I trail off. Nothing. There's nothing stopping them. Nothing… is stopping them. That's intentional, right? That phrasing. It has to be. It doesn't make sense otherwise. Why would they leave the Grand Queen to suffer in space for thirty years if they had any choice in the matter?

Why don't they have a choice in the matter? What the hell could possibly be stopping them? The gods are basically omnipotent; the sorts of powers they give people can do pretty much anything, best I can tell. Is there something about how they function that makes it harder for them to work in space, or something?

"What is godless matter, compared to divine matter?" I ask. "Or whatever you want to call it."

Wouldn't divine matter simply be matter containing divinity?

"Sure, as like, the most basic explanation possible. But that doesn't really elucidate what… hrm. Unless you're saying… but no, humans are still made of…"

It seems silly. Ridiculous, almost. But if it's true…

"Do gods… only exist in divine matter?" I ask. "Are you bound to it in some way?"

If that were true, how would domains work?

"I don't know. Or… are we misunderstanding what divine matter is? Is what we call 'divine matter' really more like 'alien matter?' Can you all exist in whatever kind of matter you want? Does it change the properties of that matter?"

Change is your purview, is it not?

"…Only insofar as it's the purview of the blessing I received from Possibility. Hmm. What's a domain? Like really, what's a domain?"

It is the area in which you are able to use your powers.

"No. It's more than that. Can domains be used in space?"

That's an interesting question.

"That means no, doesn't it? Powers require a medium. Gods require a medium. Your original world wasn't created from nothing, it was created from you, per the designs of the Grand Queen. You didn't have physics, not really. You didn't have rules that existed outside of you. And most importantly, you didn't have nothingness. Aliens I've spoken to have attested to that multiple times. The concept of a vacuum isn't just intrinsically foreign to them, though, it's foreign to you."

A totally new idea. A force extant without will. An emptiness that is not a contradiction. You call it 'physics.' 'Gravity.' 'Space.' We call it wonderful. And others call it Nothing.

"You physically can't reach the Grand Queen, can you?" I ask. "Because she's trapped in space. Your power can't reach beyond Earth."

That would be another excellent reason to protect Earth.

"Oh my god, that's the feat. That's what you're planning to make me Grand Queen over. How I'm apparently prophesied to save the world."

Saving a world is certainly comparable to designing one.

"There's still matter on the moon, though, right? You should be able to exist in the moon just fine, there's no reason a god would need atmosphere… oh holy shit, that's what Moonfalls are. That's why people get powers from deorbited chunks of the moon that burn up in atmosphere. There are pieces of you trapped in the pieces of the moon!"

That's a logical conclusion.

I'd be pacing back and forth if I still had legs and this place had any ground. Gods of concepts, bound to matter, coming from a place devoid of nothingness… and at least some of them want me to be their new Grand Queen, whatever the hell that means. It's just so… odd. They seemed so limitless, having a weakness like space travel is kind of hard to believe.

"I guess I just don't understand why you even want a second Grand Queen," I admit. "I'm happy to save the world, and I'm happy to see if I can help the first Grand Queen out in the process, but why would you want to replace her? Is she too far gone?"

Does she need to be replaced?

"Well, no. I guess you could just have two Grand Queens. I don't know how that would work, but I don't know how any of this works so that's somewhat of a moot point."

Do you need to know how it works?

Again, I pause. Do I need to know how it works? I mean, knowing things is usually pretty important. I certainly don't like the idea of becoming the Grand Queen with only a partial understanding of what that would even be, but… 

"I don't," I admit. "But can't you teach me something? Or… even just give another hint. This Grand Queen stuff, I just… I don't like it."

You said that you believe a Grand Queen must embody all of the gods.

"It only seems right to properly represent anyone who blesses me, sure," I agree. "I'm not going to bend over backward to be someone I'm not, though. I'm not going to do anything that I don't believe in."

And will your beliefs represent me?

Oh. We're getting to the big questions now, I see. The world around me seems to darken, as if in confirmation. The shadows spread and multiply, as several sources of light plaster the shadow of the words my body forms a dozen times over.

"You?" I ask. "Silhouette? The god of outlines and shadows, of metaphors and masks? You're the embodiment of being one step away from the platonic ideal. I bet you feuded with Perfection long before the Heaven War."

A compelling deduction.

"Of course I embody you," I huff. "I said it before: I wouldn't be here if you didn't already want something from me. Were you upset Possibility got to me first?"

Do you think gods get upset over things like that?

"Hell if I know," I admit. "But that's the best part, isn't it? I don't know you. Not really. I have my theories and my assumptions and my deductions, but I don't know anything. All I can do is try and piece together the story from the shadow puppet show. But I'm used to that. Hell, all of humanity is used to that. We don't have a network. We never had any way to know anyone except by their shadow. By the face they wore in front of us. A lot of people don't like that, but I wear my masks with pride and respect the masks I see. Even now, with the full truth of almost everyone I love just a few questions away, I prefer to keep most of it in shadow. That's more comfortable to me, in the end."

Is it, now?

The darkness descends in force, suffocating the light. Yet somehow, even in the darkness, I can see the letters before me, for they are darker still.

"Of course," I confirm easily. "Look. I don't want to be the Grand Queen. But if it isn't me, it's going to be someone else, right? And like Pink said about me way back when… I can't trust anyone else to do the job. If it means preventing all that power from ending up in the wrong hands, then I have a moral obligation to do it."

You would become the highest priestess of all in violation of your own desires?

"No. You'll make me your highest priestess in violation of all of my desires. Because that's what you'll love about me. Once I'm in charge, every second of my life is going to be an act. It's going to be an obligation. It's going to be a responsibility. And for the entire world, for every alien and every human, I'm going to have to put on a show. A leader like that can't let people see her vulnerable, so the only thing they'll ever see is whatever shadow I choose to cast on their walls."

The world stills. The darkness thickens. It coils around me, the pressure crushing me, squeezing me, forcing me back together. I am no longer words, I am me, but I can't be me because the shadow my body casts on the wall is anything but. I tilt my head and the shadow mirrors it. It moves as I move. It's nothing but a trick of the light. And yet, somehow, its mere presence is enough to suffocate my very existence. It is only my shadow, and it is more real than I ever was.

The shadow peels itself off the wall, two-dimensional and three-dimensional and non-dimensional all at once. It approaches me like a walking simile, shrouding my sight and yet becoming the only thing I am capable of perceiving.

Is

It reaches out to me, its hand resting on my cheek as my hand rests on its, for it is only my shadow, but it is moving me.

That

Its words are my words. My mouth moves, but its form speaks them. It grasps my head in both its substanceless hands, a wide grin splitting its featureless face as it pulls me closer.

So!?

I laugh because it laughs, forced to mirror its ecstatic rhapsody in spite of my overwhelming desire to scream. With my mouth wide open, it reaches inside, pouring itself down my throat to burrow into the darkness inside. I can't breathe. I cannot possibly contain it, because compared to it I'm nothing at all. I don't exist, I can't exist, I am only a shadow and that which cast me just crawled inside my—!

"Julietta!"

I gasp in shock, digging my claws deep into the surface I'm on and feeling them slide into flesh. A cry of pain brings me back to myself, prompting me to glance up at Maria's pained face. My back is arched, my fur is standing on end, but even after hurting her, she's still holding me safe in her arms. Safe. Safe. 

I take a few deep breaths, sliding my claws back into my paws and using my powers to heal the wounds they left behind.

"Sorry," I croak.

"It's okay, it's okay," Maria assures me. "What happened? We couldn't wake you."

They couldn't…? I glance around some more. We're not in the bunker; we're outside. The sun is almost high enough in the sky for it to be noon. Everyone is already out and about.

"Have you been carrying me this whole time?" I ask.

"Well, I wasn't just gonna leave you there," she says. "Now out with it!"

I close my eyes, focusing on my power and my domain. It doesn't feel different, not really, but it does feel… more. How wide could I make my range now, if I wanted to? How densely could I pack this power? It's dormant, at least for now. Other people probably wouldn't feel much difference, but I could unleash far more raw might at any moment. For now, though, that strength hides in my shadow.

"I… talked with Silhouette," I admit. "And. I think. I got their support?"

"Oh. Are you… okay? It seemed like you were having a nightmare," Maria says.

"Uh… well it was mostly fine," I admit. "At least up until the end there. They're weird, but what god isn't, am I right?"

"Well, uh… you're one of only two people to chat with more than one, apparently, so… I guess you'd know."

"Unless there are other candidates," I point out, shuffling my weight around a little before snuggling up deeper into Maria's arms. She gives me an amused look.

"…If you're gonna stay a cat, at least connect yourself to the network," she says. 

"Fine, fine," I sigh, growing out a few tentacles and covering them in matching fur.

The tentacles aren't actually necessary to connect myself in the network, but cats are small, so adding more neural tissue to my current body is. Tentacles, conveniently, are full of the stuff. Let's see, checking in… oh!

"Almost done, A Blossom of Wilted Chances?" I ask.

"Affirmative," she responds. "Observation: you are awake."

"Affirmative."

"Get your fluff-covered fecal sphincter over here, and get dissolved by this horrible reproduction-capable entity," she orders.

"Affirmative," I answer again.

"Alright, take me to Blossom," I instruct my ride.

"I can hear her, you dork. I know," Maria smirks, bringing several of her tentacles forward to give me pets.

"This unit would be happy to escort you as well," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says, suddenly jumpscaring the shit out of me as they approach from behind. That guy is quiet!

"Ah! Jesus!" I swear. "Startled greetings: Deficiency Begets Wisdom! I expected you to be with A Blossom of Wilted Chances."

"I was, until recently," they confirm. "However, A Blossom of Wilted Chances instructed me to depart because she was 'tired of my stupid nonexistent face.' However, once our work moves onto the second phase, it seems prudent for me to assist you."

"Sure," I agree. "If it helps the Queen learn better, I'm all for it."

"Excellent. I am glad you find my powers more palatable than the others of my colony."

Oh. Well, I guess it's not that hard to pick up on our general distaste for everyone here, but overall I'd agree with that. Deficiency Begets Wisdom seems to focus on the aspect of Failure's divinity that I most like, after all.

"Your methods of worship are more palatable," I say. "My people have a saying: 'failure is the greatest teacher.' This aspect of your religion, at least, we hold in very high regard."

"I would enjoy hearing more about this," they say, so the two of us chat as we walk, Maria and occasionally the others chiming in from time to time.

Before long, though, it's time for me to enter that ever-increasingly familiar disassembly chamber. I wonder if I'll be nostalgic for this someday. Floating here in this living goop, slowly having my body peeled apart until my brain stops working, waiting to be remade and then ultimately going insane for a little while. Again and again, over and over. I offer my critiques and corrections and end up messed up in a different way every time. 

Again, I don't know how long it takes. I'm not really myself for enough time to determine something like that. The brief moments where I chat with the Queen between attempts are usually the least unpleasant part of this, but with this Queen they're the worst. She's always apologizing for screwing up, but I can tell she's delighted in spite of her words. She's very excited for something, and I doubt I'm going to like it. Well, whatever. We'll figure that out when it happens.

Once the Queen is finally ready for Emily, I only manage to trade brief words with her before once again passing out for far too long. Again, I wake up in Maria's arms. She's great. So soft and warm and cozy.

"You know, one of these days I'd really like to sleep with a more human-shaped Julietta," she teases me. Fortunately, no one can tell if a cat is blushing.

"Still not sure if I'm ready for that," I admit. "But… I'll think about it."

"It is Done," the Queen announces solemnly. "Presenting Now the Newest Member of Our Council: Omen of Final Mistakes!"

"Jubilation!"

"Greetings!"

"Welcome!"

The Queen's organic air lock opens, and the rest of us wait with bated breath. Is this where we get betrayed? Have we, after all this, just fed a member of our family to the wolves?

The ear-splitting shriek that envelops the area seems to answer yes.

Chaos emerges from within the Queen, a formless cacophony of alien tendrils, crystalline blades, and unconnected patches of pale human flesh. The horrific chimera spills across the ground, moving almost more like liquid than living thing. The monster is almost as large as our van, and it screams again, the sound horrible, wet, and raw. 

In an instant, all of us are ready to wipe this horrible colony off the map. They had their chance. They wasted it. We'll slaughter them all and fix Emily ourselves.

"Schadenfreude. Oh my god I totally feel them. I got them. Hilarity. Hey I'm fine you stupid idiots don't kill anyone. Hello? Is this thing on?"

Wh—are you fucking serious!?

"Emily!?" I blurt.

"Uh, it's actually Omen of Final Mistakes now? Didn't you hear? My name is raw, and you'd better use it. High chance, medium-soon."

"Wait, high chance? What's high chance?" I ask.

"Your death. Obviously. Don't worry, everyone's way less likely to die than you are. Also, 'high chance' sounds way worse than it is, there's like, a buncha stages worse than that."

"Holy after-death place of torture, you've gone even nuttier than Twisting Scars Reshape Fate," Peter chimes in. "I didn't think you'd be into living the rest of your life as a pile of… oh, fuck this language."

"Spaghetti noodles!" he shouts in English. "You are a goddamn Italian dinner!"

"Yeah, but check this out!"

The mass of interconnected flesh shudders and then unexpectedly contracts, the 'spaghetti,' as Peter put it, yanking on itself to pull its most disparate parts tight against the core of the body. Little by little, piece by piece, the purpose behind the seemingly random scraps of human-looking skin becomes clear. Emily reassembles herself before our eyes, naked and grinning like a madwoman.

It is, quite obviously, a horrible human disguise. The seams are visible, and as she walks toward us they occasionally slide against each other, making the facade ever more obvious. Some of them don't even fully close, revealing the squirming flesh and interlocked crystal beneath.

"Hellooo!" Emily waves. "Oh man I see why you do this, Julietta, the looks on your faces are amazing." 

"That's… not why I do…" I turn away, glancing back at the others. "Is this what I do?"

"Oh yeah, one hundred percent," Peter confirms.

"Sometimes you're a little grosser," Maria agrees.

"E-Emily?" Christine squeaks. "You do realize you're naked, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'd care but I'm too busy feeling awesome. Hey Julietta, make me some creepy flesh clothes to complete the look, will ya?"

"What, you just want me to give you like… a dress made of skin or something?"

"Yes, that'd be perfect!" she grins wider.

"Like the skin you just got on my case about using as a substitute for paper?"

"That sounds great!" Emily confirms. "Oh my GOD I could kill so many people here, and no one would stop me this is AWESOME!"

"You having a normal one there, sister?" Peter says. "Please don't murder anyone."

"Oh no that's right, they can hear me think now. Damn. Well, it was nice having a decent family while it lasted."

"We are your family now!" Desire Consumed Gleefully cheers.

"And none of you count as decent!" Emily answers back. "Or at least I assume. Nice to meet you, but also I'm looking forward to leaving and not really interacting with you much!"

"This One is Going to be Fun, I Think," the Queen hums.

"Yes, don't be too hasty!" Averter of Fortunes says. "We have so much to chat about before you head off on your alliance-based duties. We assume, for example, you'd like to visit the human colony we've been keeping captive?"

There's a pause.

"The what?" Emily asks.

"The WHAT!?" Maria demands.

Of course. Of course, there obviously had to be something. But I will admit, humans living inside a Queen's domain was not what I expected.

"We know you will all be busy with your duties to our newfound alliance, which we of course have every intention of remaining part of," Tenacity Reaps Ruin says. "So we didn't wish to distract you with irrelevant council issues. A member of our council, of course, is a different story. Omen of Final Mistakes, your input regarding their fate is just as valuable as that of the rest of us."

Wordless thoughts rush between everyone in our group. Do we attack? Stage a rescue? Would that even be possible inside of a domain like the Queen's? Even if she can't kill us, she can make it next to impossible for us to get where we want to go. And the humans… attacking would probably put them in danger, too.

We… might actually need Emily to talk us out of this. We turn to her expectantly, and she sags, her joints very slightly coming apart at the seams.

"Ugh, you just had to ruin my big day," Emily grumbles. "You really are my family."