Imago Ch2: Waking Nightmares (Patreon)

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L wakes to a splitting headache. It takes her a moment to sort through the pain traveling through her skull, radiating down into her neck and shoulders. She rubs at the base of her antennae, groaning, and sits up.

She is not where she fell asleep.

She’s lying on a sheer surface of obsidian. It’s a plateau, a perfect circle.  She’s near enough to the edge that she can look over, but as soon as she does she lurches back, head spinning; beyond is an impossible nothing, an open void plunging down into infinity.  In the far distance she can just make out a constellation of gears that churn and grind in perfect mechanical synchronicity, closing in the world.  And on her platform, at its center, hangs a mirror suspended a half meter off the ground.  It's made of the same obsidian as the plateau, carved and polished to a fine sheen.

L stands, nearly tripping as she gets to her feet. Her dizziness has begun to fade, although she’s still struggling with a sense of vertigo. As she nears the mirror, she can see her reflection approaching from the inside.

No. Not quite her reflection.
Four arms.  White skin.  Yellow eyes.
Blinking back.

"No. We're not doing this again." L takes a step towards the mirror, glowering.  "After everything, everything that's happened, we are not doing this again."

Her reflection looks back, trembling with rage.

“Well?  Answer me!”

L takes a step forward. Her reflection follows suit, but…slowly, as if she’s moving through deep water. As L comes to a halt, the girl in the mirror blinks, looking down in confusion at her hands. The anger in her eyes evaporates. Lyra’s mouth moves, as if she’s trying to say something. She glances furtively over her shoulder, then her head whips back, and she begins to pound at the inside of the glass. A prickle of unease runs down the back of L’s neck.

“I can’t understand! Lyra, I don’t understand.”

She reaches out, intending to press a hand to the mirror and get the nymph’s attention - but her fingers push right through the obsidian like it wasn’t there. Lyra stops and steps back, her fear shifting to fascination. Eyes wide, L steps through.

The world silently  jumps around her, and L stumbles, half-falling. She’s on another platform, one surrounded by mirrors - including the one she just came from. A bloodstained wooden altar looms at her left, and before her stands Lyra, wings spread and claws raised.  She’s frozen, looking down at something.

“Lyra?”  L calls out, approaching cautiously.  She doesn’t answer.

L looks down.

There’s a man kneeling on the ground, just as frozen as the nymph. He’s caught mid-thrash, one hand locked around his throat.  Pink foam bubbles through his fingers, and his eyes bulge as he reaches desperately for Lyra.

“Lyra, what’s…”   L whispers, but Lyra is gone. All around her, she sees her reflection in the mirrors.

Four arms.
White skin.
Yellow eyes.

tik

The world unfreezes in a cacophony of ticking clocks and incoherent rasping shrieks. The man lunges forward, hand locking around L’s right wrist.  Sudden searing pain overwhelms her, icy cold tearing at her flesh. Blood gushes down the man’s neck, flooding over her trapped arm.  She screams and tries to pull away, but he clutches her closer, gasping some inaudible horror. Her legs buckle, the world goes black -

+++

With a gasp, L sits up, blankets tumbling away from her in the dark.

She's in her attic room in the Glade. L shudders, pressing a hand to her chest, slick with sweat, and draws in a slow, shaky breath. She'd almost have rather gone back to the dreams where she shed her skin.

Something nips lightly at her elbow. Neith II blinks sleepily up at her from a tiny depression in the covers. L manages a smile, patting the alp-luachra with one finger.

"S-sorry. Just a bad dream." She whispers, settling back down on her side. Neith II yawns and slithers up to her hip, curling into a tight circle and closing her eye. L's smile warms as she stares out into the darkness, then settles back to sleep.

Astraea has to tiptoe through a sea of cats to enter the Glade. Some are cleaning, while others nap quietly in the midmorning glow. One idly bats at a firefly, while nearby another is busy eating a firefly. It doesn’t matter; the King can’t spoil her mood.

She descends down the copper stairwell to the main floor, the mist rising up to meet her. The fountain where months before she'd sat and waited, heart fluttering, to see L after her botched first attempt at reconnection is flooded with felines. All of them watch in quiet fascination as the golden koi circle, gaping at the surface. She skips off the last step onto the stone flooring. A few crabs scuttle into the crevices. Not far ahead, she spots the first person shaped face she's seen since she arrived.

"Ian!" She calls out, waving and running towards the bar. Ian looks up warily, lifting the glass he was cleaning onto the shelf behind him.

"Let you in? Weren't sure if they would. Hedrick's in a fit, they've been scaring off customers for days." A few paces along the bar, two tuxedo-marked cats circle the glass shelf like sharks, staring up at the glittering flasks with fascination. Ian gives them a sour look.  "Turn my back for a second and they'll push things just to see them fall."

"Well, none of them attacked me, at least. Th... they haven't been giving L any more trouble, have they?"

"She's keeping out of it as best she can. She's...well, she's been quiet. Haven't talked that much. Could be her wing, y'know."

"Ah!  That's actually why I'm here. I'm..." Astraea places a hand over her chest, looking rather proud of herself. "...fully topped off. I thought I'd see if she wanted another healing session. Have you seen her? Is she up in her room?"

"Nah. She's in the back with Trystan. Said she wanted to feel useful. They're doing inventory." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder.  "Go on in if you think you can do her good. I'll be right out here if there's any trouble."

"Thanks, Ian." She says, then pauses. "L... later, would you mind if I asked you about more... human things? I was watching some man on the... telly, is it? Pointing at charts. They were shifting, then stopping, then repeating..?"

Ian pauses, then gives her a half smile. "Sure. Go say your piece, and then I’ll tell you all about the weather forecast.”

"Thanks!" She says, brightening, before disappearing into the back.

+++

"What did you say we were looking for again?"

Trystan is up to his full height, sorting through bottles in the rafters. His backroom is full of all sorts of odds and ends, built up in layers. They feel settled in the way that sediment builds on the bottom of a river.

"The condensator." Trystan clarifies.  “It'll be a large glass orb leading down to a series of tubes.”

"That’s right! The condenser.” L repeats as she scans the shelves.

"Ah… close. It’s called a condensator.”

"Oh I might’ve found it!"

L stretches her wings to fly, but a fresh spasm of pain forces her to think better. Instead she drags the ladder over and scurries up. Trystan watches, waiting to see if she has, in fact, found it.

"Are you sure you’re feeling up to helping? It's fine if you want to rest. You’re Hedrick’s prized asset, after all."

“Oh, I’m aware” L pushes aside a bundle of dried herbs. “But if I spend one more day in bed I’ll start spinning a cocoon. It’s better for both of us if I’m down here helping, yeah?”

Trystan lets the silence answer for him. L ignores him, instead digging her hands deep into the depths of the debris. With some effort, she pulls a dusty glass globe free, holding it aloft in triumph.  “Speaking of, look what I found!”

The feeling is short-lived. L teeters backward in her enthusiasm, wobbling on the edge of the rung. One of her hands snaps back to cling to the ladder, while the other struggles to balance the condensator.

Trystan stares at her with the intensity of someone exercising painful self restraint. He leans down and delicately plucks it from her hands. "Perfect. Thank you."

“All in a day's work for a nymph.”  She beams, her antennae drooping sheepishly.

Trystan’s about to reply when he’s interrupted by a small rap at the door.

“Come in!” L calls down. The handle turns and a small glowing face peaks in, accompanied by four cats trying to peer around her. “Oh!  Astraea!”

It's strange, but L actually feels happy to see her.  After everything that’s happened, she should probably still fear her, or at least be wary.  But at the same time, after everything that’s happened, it feels just as strange that she ever did.

"Is everything okay?"

Astraea’s cheeks glow soft pink. The door closes with a quick click behind her, blocking  the cats from following her in.  "Actually, I came by to ask you that question. I-"

Astraea stops. L frowns, following her gaze. Trystan’s staring at them both, just as still and stiff as if he’s been caught in the King’s gaze. Astraea self consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Trystan?  Are you alright?”

Trystan snaps upright, the condensator slipping free of his hands. It shatters on the floor, spraying glass around their feet. Both girls jump back, L’s wings snapping open with a twinge of pain.

"Oh, no, the con-thing - " L pulls her wings in and hurries over to pick up the larger shards. "That's not expensive, is it? Are you okay?"

“I… apologies, girls, I don’t know what came over me. Where’s the handbroom?”  Trystan winces, bustling around. He’s too flustered to notice L turning to point it out…or the way her eyes widen as she catches a close glimpse at the inside of his wrist.

The script is thin and faded with age, but it’s there, just like her own. L draws back, glancing at the softly glowing mark on her own arm. She’d never known to ask.  She could try and read it, in that strange way she knows she’ll understand.

But she doesn’t.
It feels strangely invasive.

“Please..." Trystan says, plucking up the broom and dustpan in muted triumph.  He circles around them both, hurriedly sweeping up the last of the glass. He tips the full pan into a trash can, withdrawing toward the door. "Use this space as you like. I…I have some things to discuss with Ian."

His hand hovers over the doorknob a beat too long. L can see the tremble in his fingers.

"Thanks." L smiles, putting a hand on his arm. Trystan looks to her, his expression softening. Without a word, he opens the door and quietly slides out.  L waits until the door is closed and the soft jangle of Trystan’s bottles have receded before turning to Astraea, her face falling a little. “That was strange.”

“What’s that?”

“Trystan. He’s never reacted like that towards you before. Has he?”

Astraea looks up in thought. “Maybe it was because he was… secluded in here with me?”  She droops, worrying at her lower lip.  “Where we are from, it’s not always…good for a nymph to be behind closed doors with a dryad.”

L nods, a little too cognizant of the fact that she is a nymph with a dryad behind a closed door. She brushes the thought aside, choosing instead to stretch her wings. The ache feels less urgent, but it's still there. A flash of light catches her eye - a piece of glass Trystan had forgotten. She picks it up, idly twirling it between her fingers.

"Well…thanks for checking on me anyway, Astraea. I'm not up to flying yet, but all considered, it's kind of amazing how healed it is already!"

"That’s because it's one of the talents I fostered!  Dryads can shape our aether in lots of ways.  My two specialities are healing and creating sacred circles.” She moves her hands in a curving arc, light springing into existence between them. “Th-that said, among my people my abilities are seen as… unremarkable. I believe your phrase for it is 'runt of the litter'?”

"I don’t care what they call you. As far as I’m concerned you’re a professional wing doctor.”  L moves to dump the last piece of the condensator. She can see her own reflection staring back from the kaleidoscope of broken pieces in the bottom of the trash can. For a moment, it almost looks like…

“Actually… maybe there’s something we should talk about.”

Astraea perks up, leaning forward.  L looks self consciously away as she drops the last piece in the trashcan, letting it shatter. “I haven’t been sleeping well since… well, for a little while now.  And I’ve been wondering if…  maybe Lyra’s trying to tell me something.”

A soft hand settles on her shoulder. L turns to see Astraea’s fragile smile.  “L, are you sure it's Lyra? I thought… you said Lyra was gone. You're you now, right? Couldn't it just be a bad dream?"

"I thought so too. The first time. But then it kept happening. Always the same dream.   She’s scared and trying to say something, but I can’t make out the words. And then she shows me -”

- blood -

"Something upsetting?” Astraea asks. L nods.

She takes L by the hand and guides her to take a seat on one of the crates, before settling down next to her. The dryad’s smile has melted away, replaced by worried silence. L frowns apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Astraea. I’m not trying to confuse your feelings.  Lyra still feels gone to me.   Maybe this is just… something she left behind?  An echo, I guess. A note she wants me to read.”

Astraea’s hands twist slowly in her lap. "I... might be able to help."

"Do you think?" L's wings flutter. "I don't want to… I mean, if it's too much, I can find another way."

"No. No, it's fine." She grazes L’s hand with her fingertips. "I can do this for you. I'll just need a moment to..."

She closes her eyes. Her features melt away into a silhouette of bright light. Her hair spirals into a crown of antler-like branches, and amber leaves unfold in a dazzling display. It's hard for L to watch. Even harder for her to look away.

Nine flowers bud from her crown -  eight are small and purple, with a ninth, larger one,  humming with orange light. It swells into a fist-sized fruit, even as the smaller ones shed their petals to reveal shimmering amethysts. Astraea opens her eyes, her body reshaping itself.

"Could you grab the two in the back?" She asks, starting to pluck the crystals within her reach. Hesitantly, L takes the remainders.

She can’t keep her eyes off the fruit.

"Can I…ask what these are for?"

"The crystals?  Sure! They’re catalysts!  They sustain and stabilise the spell, which is what’s in this…" Astraea reaches up and plucks the fruit, cracking it open to reveal rows of familiar gem-like seeds. She lifts it, then subsides, catching the look on L’s face. "... and… now I'm realising that this might bring back some bad memories.”

“One or two.” L says, her voice carefully level. Astraea sets the fruit to the side.

"I promise, this is a diluted splitting spell, one that won’t affect your body and one you'll be in control of. I'm just here to act as the battery, and..." She smiles sheepishly. "Maybe as a friend. Splitting out parts of yourself, even partially, won’t feel great."

“But I can turn it off?  I won’t get stuck?"

"Breaking the catalyst will break the spell."

“Simple as that?”

Astraea nods.

It feels strange to trust her with this, but… Astraea’s never directly lied to her before. It’s unlikely she’d start now.  It’s worth the risk. L takes a deep breath.

"I'm in. How can I help?”

Astraea’s energy is infectious.  She explains every step of the process in enthusiastic detail, trailing off into apologies until L reassures her that she finds it interesting. It’s the truth. The eight gems are arranged in two intersecting squares, forming a star-like pattern surrounding them both.  Astraea explains how one acts as the foundation of the spell, and the other multiplies its effects.

The next step is to activate it. L's hand closes around the gemstone, feeling it grab her, a cold sensation pulling at her veins. It feels not unlike having her blood drawn. Astraea’s made sure to warn her about this, too, that it would draw on her life force - not in a dangerous way, but in the same way that a seed needs certain conditions to spring to life.

In a way, she’s germinating the spell. Helping it grow.

L relaxes, giving in to the pulling sensation - and one by one,  the crystals light up, glowing lines spreading out and forming the squares.

"PERFECT!" Astraea says, rocking happily back and forth. "You know what's interesting? That pulling sensation? The parts of you being pulled on are the parts of you that are fae. Humans can't do what you just did. It’s easiest for dryads,we're basically walking aether reservoirs. In fact, some speculate that we're actually not aether-infused trees, but aether itself. Tree-infused aether!"

"...mm...hmmm..." L mutters, half-listening as her gaze is pulled into the light of the fruit, seeming to hum with latent anticipation.

"In fact, Fili was telling me before I left that-"

Astraea's voice fades away as L’s fingers close over the spell.  She can hear distant music, something singing in that same language that she feels more than knows.   Melody and harmony acting together, then slowly drifting apart until they become two separate songs.

Astraea has gone quiet, watching her. L releases it, looking embarrassed - but Astraea doesn’t seem upset, just quietly fascinated.

"Here, sit across from me." She says. L shifts, careful not to disarrange the pattern, and settles in to face her. Astraea’s light pulses softly, mingling with the glow of the catalyst and sending shadows dancing around the room. It reminds L uncomfortably of the nest Lyra had built back here, but more...coalesced. The candles and lanterns had each flickered on their own, but Astraea's light and the spell form a single rhythm.

"Should I…

...what do I do now?"

The distant look returns to Astraea’s eyes, and her light dims slightly. She sets the fruit between them, nudging it closer. "When you eat one of these seeds, you will pull on my aether, the way the catalyst pulled on you. That will start the spell. I’ll guide by asking questions, but you should remain in control. If you want out at any moment, just move one of the catalysts out of alignment and it’ll break the spell. If one seed isn't enough, take two. And if not two, then three." Astraea pauses. "Don't take more than three."

"Don't take more than three." L repeats, staring at the fruit. That should be easy enough. The way it moved last time has left her with a healthy nervousness. She digs the smallest seed she can see out of its pocket in the rind, watching the way the light plays off of it. Her hand shakes as she puts it in her mouth and bites down.

It’s sweet, and its warmth floods to her fingertips. The room wobbles, and she can feel pressure in her ears. Her antennae feel swollen. L shifts her gaze back and forth, trying to focus. "Should I feel a̸ ̴l̸i̴t̴t̷l̷e̶ drunk - "

She stops, eyes widening.

A bead of sweat runs down Astraea's brow, but otherwise she remains composed. "Like I said, it's going to be uncomfortable. Once you're feeling settled, I have a question that might help you stabilise.”

“I’m ready.”  L says.   Astraea smiles worriedly.

“I want L to answer first."  L sways, but nods.  "What is something that you like?"

The world moves into focus. "P...peppermint tea?"

"Okay... now..." Her gaze drops to the floor. "Lyra. What's something you like?"

L's mouth moves, but when she speaks, the word pushes its way out of her, like bubbles rising from a swamp.

"V̴̺̈e̶̠͘n̶͓̄i̵̛͔s̸͍͌o̷̟͗n̵͗."

A small smile pulls at the edge of Astraea’s mouth. She lifts her head. "Alright, I think we're ready. Lyra, L tells me that she thinks you're trying to contact her through her dreams. Is this true?”

"Y̵̹͒é̷̫s̴̩̈." L bites off the word, her teeth clicking.  Astraea breathes in tightly.

"Alright. Why are you doing this?"

"I̸t̶'̵s̶ ̶n̴o̸t̶ ̵s̵a̸f̶e̴.̶" L stares at the floor, watching the lines in the diagram double, then resolve back. Then double again, rotating in her vision.

Astraea's teeth grit, and her palms tighten. "What's after you?"

There's no response. Sweat trickles down L's face. She opens her mouth, then closes it again.

"...I …think I need another one."

"This is your second one."

"This is the second one." L repeats. "No more than three."

Astraea touches her hand.   “I'm right here.”

L smiles, even as she nearly drops the seed, and places it on her tongue. This time, the warmth travels down her back and into her wings.

"Ask me again." She whispers, trying to focus.

Astraea’s light dims slightly, guttering like a candle before returning. "What is after you, Lyra?"

Her heart pounds against her chest. She's on a wooden table.  She’s wearing white, which is the wrong colour.  She can’t wear white, not here, it’s not safe. Her right wrist burns, and she drags her eyes toward it. It is pinioned cruelly by a single iron chain, biting into her skin.

Lyra cries out, thrashing and frothing at the mouth, trying desperately to pull free like a fox caught in a trap. Everywhere around her are mirrors and her reflection, split and splintered and refracted, screaming back at her.

A tall, broad figure stalks toward her. A man with sharp, cold eyes and a porcelain smile. He’s saying something, but she can’t hear over the screaming -

"L! L, what's wrong?!"

L’s eyes snap open. Her skin still burns, the pain of phantom iron taking agonisingly long seconds to recede. She looks wildly at her right wrist expecting to see it red and blistered, but there’s nothing.

"You were crying out!" Astraea says, fear on her face. She reaches for one of the catalysts. “That’s enough.  We should stop."

"N̴̖̉ọ̷͂!̷͔̏" L snatches Astraea by the wrist. "N-no, we have to keep going. Someone was torturing her.  W-we have to find out who.”

Astraea holds up her free hand. L lets go, and she sits back.  "Alright.  Alright, we can continue. Did you see anything? What did they look like?"

"A man...a tall man." L shakes her head. "I don't think he was a fae. He...h̴̘͛e̸͔͋.̶̬̀.̵̢̂.̶͙̐"

"A human?" Astraea laughs in disbelief, baffled. "How could a human threaten you?"

- she's sitting in a little room at a table of polished stone, listening to low cries and a heated argument somewhere beyond a tattered curtain. Her talons are warm and wet. She's afraid to look down, but the scent on them matches the lingering tang of blood in the air. She's in the Market's Unseelie district, and across her sits the man. He's smiling at her, checking off something in a small black notebook with one hand while he pushes a pouch across the table with the other.

"T̸h̷e̴ ̷B̵o̷o̷k̷k̸e̴e̵p̴e̴r̷.̶" Lyra says, her voice flat as she reaches across the table for her payment. The pouch clatters as she upends it on the table. Golden rings and slivers of bone and secrets trapped in hollow reeds, prices for the lives she takes. "I̶ ̵h̶u̵n̵t̴e̸d̶ ̴f̵o̸r̴ ̷h̷i̶m̴.̶"

"... you were... partners?"

Astraea’s voice echoes somewhere above her. There’s a twinge of jealousy in it.

"Y̸e̸s̵.̸" Lyra answers. "I̴ h̵a̶d̴ t̷o̵ e̷a̷t̸. I̵ h̶a̶d̴ t̴o̶ l̷i̵v̷e̶.̶"

"Oh, so not - " Astraea coughs. "... but then... why would he hurt you? Why would he still want to hurt you?"

"H̵e w̶a̷n̴t̸e̴d̴ - "

The Unseelie district dissolves in a flare of gold. L's head pounds. She struggles to form the words.

" - -̷ ̴h̶e w̴a̷n̷t̴e̴d̴ m̷y p̴a̵t̵h t̸o t̸h̷e̴ ̷Wilds-  "

Shadows creep in first, then the walls, the shelves, the catalyst - Astraea, staring at her worriedly. The sentence tears itself from her throat.

"H̶e w̵a̷n̷ted̵ Y̸OU̵!" L falls back on her knees, grasping at the dusty floor. Her wings start to flicker - quick, sharp beats.

"ME?!”  Astraea’s voice catches with emotion. “How would he even know who I was?  And why would he have to hurt you to find out?”

Without hesitation L tears a third seed from the fruit and swallows it whole. They're so close to something, she can feel it. "Ask me something. H-hurry - "

"Did you love me?" Astraea asks, golden tears falling on her thighs. "Even after you left?"

"Y̸͈͋e̸͖̒ś̷̮.̶͌ͅ" She rasps, her throat closing up.

"Then-” Astraea starts, desperation taking her over. “Why did you leave?"

L tries to speak. Her mind fills with a brilliant light, a ringing sound, growing brighter and hotter by the second.  It screams inside her. Screams to be let out.

Screaming to be-

" - the apothecary district. If they try to charge you more, you’re being cheated." Trystan says, counting out coins and handing them to Ian. "We’ll be alright without the condensator tonight, but I’ll need enough time to start distilling before the weekend.”

Ian nods as he pockets the coins, then glances towards the back. "Oi, Trystan. Did you catch Astraea? She said she was looking for-"

He’s interrupted by a high, thin wail. The cats closest to the back hiss and dart away, their ears flattening, as a glass behind the counter cracks.

The door crashes open.

"FAHKIN ELL!" Ian shouts, eyes wild as L careens past him. She can barely keep aloft, but she's moving fast, knocking over chairs and scattering cats in her flight. A moment later, Astraea skids out of the back room, just in time to catch Ian vaulting over the bar.

"L, come back!" She calls, but L isn’t listening. The nymph flicks toward the stairs, swerving at the last second and barreling for the ladder to the attic. Unfortunately, the stage curtain is in the way. L slams into the heavy fabric, instantly tangling in it.  Clawing at it she tears the fabric as she falls.

She hits the stage. Ian bangs his shin on the edge as he pulls himself up and onto it. He doesn’t notice - his focus is completely on the thrashing form still struggling to get clear of the curtain.

"Are you hurt? What's wrong?"  He says, desperately looking her over.  L scrambles onto all fours, teeth bared, wings splayed, leaping back away from him.  She breathes sharply, wings flicking in aggressive intervals.

Slowly, the wild light leaves her eyes. She shudders, her arms tremble, and she lets herself crumple to the floor just as Astraea races up the steps to the stage.

Ian crosses protectively in front of L.  "What'd you do to her?!"

"I crushed the catalysts, Ian!" She yelps, extending the remnants of the fruit now no longer glowing. "She can eat this, the spell is dissolved so it's just aether fruit, it’ll restore her-"

Ian smacks the fruit away from her, and it scatters across the stage "You keep 'at fruit away from her - "

“I-Ian.”

Ian looks down at L. She looks sore and defeated.

"It's okay. Ian, i-it's okay. I asked her to.  She was trying to help me remember something.”

“Remember somethin?  Like… wiff magic?”  L looks away, embarrassed. Ian looks from L to Astraea.  “And…?”

Astraea lowers her head, giving a quick shake ‘no’.  Ian softens and steps back, allowing Astraea to approach.  “Arright. That… I can follow it. No need to be so blue.  Just give me a 'eads up next time you do something like that, yeah? Didn’t mean to jump on anyone.”

“It’s understandable, Ian.”  Astraea says, quietly.

“Do you…” He scoops up the half-smashed fruit, offering it apologetically. “Anyone still need this?”  

She shakes her head. “We’ve finished. Would you like to try it?”

“Try the -”

"Everything alright over there?" Trystan calls from the bar. L laughs gingerly as Ian gives a guilty jump.

"Thanks, Trystan." L says, letting go and hoisting herself back up. "We’ll be okay, I think.”

I just hope Lyra thinks so, too.


continue reading ->

Hey all!  Heart here.   Are you having a nice friday?

We wanted to create a feeling of a seance in this chapter.  Even though Lyra is... in a sense, 'gone', she also isn't entirely, and we liked playing with that... even if it messes a bit with Astraea.   A few answers found, but nothing truly satisfying, and if anything it only begs more questions.  Why was Lyra working with the bookkeeper?   What was that dream REALLY about??  And most importantly, what does that mean for L today?

Maybe you'll find more of your answers Friday March 15th when we release Imago Ch3: Time of the Month!

It is
Finally time. :3