The Stained Tower

Looking out the window of the Tower, I can see the red brick of the Terrace below. I assume the commotion of the Tower’s first breath must have garnered some attention because masses of people have begun to congregate around a hundred feet from the Tower’s exterior. If I had to guess, they are probably cautious because of warnings issued by Terra and one of the videos about getting too close to the Tower. Even so, it seems they have been disregarding those warnings and coming close enough for my Domain to leech them anyway. Which I wish I could thank them for because it was quite the boon for Fairy’s Pantry.

My gaze moves to the fountain and Terrace below me, where I find a separate and even less compliant group of several dozen people arriving from the Tower’s left and right sides. These new arrivals wear black frocks and hold tomes of varying colors in their arms—they are clearly Hex Church Spirit Scribes.

The Spirit Scribes begin to spread outward, taking position near the base of the Tower. I narrow my eyes. ‘One of them has to be the Bishop. The main part of my Domain is only around four hundred feet in diameter at the moment. I have yet to expand the Domain’s perimeter since first planting my Tower seed two months ago, so he has to be on or near the Terrace.’

Once everyone had gathered, a tall man carrying a megaphone separates from the group of Hex Church congregates. This one wears a blue and purple priest’s scarf or stole that matches the Tower’s color. 

‘That is him; that is definitely the Bishop. The fiend. First, he steals my arms, now he steals my colors!’

The group of Spirit Scribes all kneel in front of the Tower as if they are preparing to listen to whatever it is the Bishop has to say. The Bishop pulls back his hood, turns toward the crowd, and then bows. He lifts the megaphone to his mouth and begins walking around the outside of the Terrace, raising his free hand, pointing at the Tower, and preaching to the people.

Both the people and Spirit Scribes all seem to be rather captivated by his word.

Earl’s lantern squeaks as she motions toward the big stained glass window. “Statement: The fleshling known as the Bishop is abnormal. Recommendation: Mistress should be cautious of him and gain strength before devouring and absorbing them.”

Ignoring Earl’s recommendation, I question her, {Art thou able to tell me anything about him?}

“Response: The Bishop specifically, no, but this one can perceive spirits around him.” Earl looks at me and tilts her head, “Query: Can Mistress not see them too?”

I shake my head. {Nay, should I be able to?}

She thinks for a moment and then shrugs. “Response: The Mistress should be able to; perhaps the Mistress is merely looking with the wrong eyes? Or maybe Mistress is not perceptive enough? Or both? This one does not know for certain, which means this one would usually rather not answer, but this one knows the Mistress should be more than capable of seeing spirits.”

{Wrong eyes?} I think back to the time my body was primarily vermillion haze which allowed me to see things differently. {The wrong haze type is what thou art suggesting. If that is the case, I shall have to experiment with that later. But what can thou see?}

Raising her lantern, she stares at the Terrace for a long time and then says, “Observation: This one can see eleven spirits, whispering to the Spirit Scribes. Ten of them are indistinct, so this one thinks they are likely poltergeists, but one of them still looks fairly corporeal. This one can’t tell what the outlier might be upon first glance. Statement: This one can’t remember some things very well, but this one feels they are not as capable as they once were at identifying spirits. Perhaps it will become more clear in time; this one is uncertain.”

I think of the old legends and stories I heard in the past, the word ‘poltergeist’ is a word that never made an appearance. {What sort of spirits are those exactly?}

“Response: Poltergeists are decayed spirits that could come into existence for several reasons. The most common is that they somehow entered the material world and deteriorated from whatever they once were into simple poltergeists. Their type would fit the material world’s term ‘phantom’ better than most spirits would. They tend to enjoy possessing simple items or tossing loose objects around, but that is if they are left to their own devices. They will act differently if they are bound by someone or something.”

‘...So that squid and the dolls, they both could have been under the possession of these poltergeists?’

{I thank thee, Earl. That is the first piece of information I have received that can help explain how the Bishop does what he does.} I inspect the Terrace closely, seeing if I can see anything. My gaze drifts to a pale woman who I did not notice before. The pale woman wears a gray gown and walks along the edge of the Terrace in the opposite direction of the Bishop. She stares at the ground as if she is listening to everything around her very carefully. Her figure seems to have a shimmer, and at times I lose focus on her. {Where are the poltergeists specifically? There is something strange going on around that woman in gray there. Are they around her, perhaps?} 

“Remark: The woman is the eleventh spirit, Mistress.” Earl squishes her finger against the window. “Explanation: The Mistress seems incapable of not seeing the poltergeists. Poltergeists are weaker but are so deteriorated they can be harder to see. These poltergeists might have a hex or spell cast on them to make them even harder to see.” 

{That is a spirit?} I gaze at the woman. When my eyes drift away, her figure turns to a shadow on the ground. {Wait, I have seen something like those before. In Tenebrous, they were on the floor, though.}

“Response: Spirits can only be seen by those they wish to be seen by, those with special abilities, or by other spirits. Seeing spirits is natural for our kind, but Mistress is a spirit treading the boundary of the material and spiritual realms. The Mistress simply needs to attune her eyesight; perhaps an adaptation may help.”

{An adaptation for seeing spirits?}

“Answer: An adaptation to more freely change the Mistress’s eye, yes. Alternatively, the Mistress may be able to see them better through the kiln’s shell.”

‘Seeing through my kiln is disorientating, not exactly practical, and I have to lose the haze that makes up my eyes before I can look through my kiln’s shell.’

Watching the spirit for a moment longer, her head raises, and she looks straight at me. I cannot see her clearly, but the unnatural way in which she moves her neck makes me want to shiver.

I hear someone whisper as if they are standing to my right. Looking to my right, I see Earl pursing her lips and gazing out the window a few feet away from me. I look back out the window at the woman. Her mouth seems to move, and I hear a whisper again, except this time on my left. I look over quickly to confirm there is not anyone there. Peering to my left, I say to Earl, {I… I think she might be trying to say something to me.}

Earl shrugs. “Response: A dull human spirit won’t be able to speak or listen to the Mistress in the Tower if that is what is being attempted.”

‘...Speak or listen?’ A second realization hits me. ‘Wait, on the same occasion as the squid and dolls, the Bishop once read my thoughts using ‘the spirits.’ Was it this spirit woman’s doing? Was she there the whole time, and I just did not see her? What else have I simply not seen? The Bishop displayed one other ability that same day… could it also be a spirit?’

The spirit looks away from me and instead glances behind herself. Noticing something, she vanishes, reappears behind the Bishop, and whispers something into his ear.

“Observation: That spirit has most of its faculties. It must have been contracted not long after shedding its fleshy body.”

The Bishop announces something to the crowd, and the whole crowd nods in tandem. ‘I should see if I can move closer. I cannot hear anything that is being said.’

I turn my head and scan every inch of the translucent platform. A problem becomes immediately apparent. {Earl.}

She looks at me with her big white eyes and tilts her head.

Raising my hand, I motion toward the floor. {How do I get down from here? I do not see any stairs, and I wish to get lower to see if I can overhear whatever is happening.}

With a nod, she points at the tiny sprout. “Request: Approach the sapling, and ask it to take the Mistress to the former Trellis Room. It is sealed off and also where the material entrance to the Tower is located.”

I narrow my eyes. {...There is not a staircase?}

“Response: This one thought it unwise to waste time and resources to create a staircase that leads directly to the Mistress’s greatest weakness.”

{That’s a good point, I suppose.} I look back outside to see the people in black frocks departing in a group. Once they move outside the area of the nodes, I turn and ask Earl, {They are already leaving, so can I see the noteworthy leeching sources again?}

Flexing her long black fingernails, the blue veins in her white eyes pulse with a streak of violet light as she pricks her finger and tosses a drop of her blue blood into the lantern’s flame.

{Terra is down there!} I walk over to the sprout and point at it. {I would like to go to the Trellis Room and not in the same fashion I arrived here.}

Earl sighs as a root detaches from the ceiling and sucks my kiln into itself. I find myself moving through glass tubes of haze and whirling downward between the glass javelins toward the floor. ‘This is… somehow fun!’

Approaching the floor, I slip into a crevice in the floor and then into a chamber filled with black haze. Black haze forms my body around the kiln, and then the chamber opens up, revealing the Arcade. The Arcade has also been transformed. My glass roots run through the crevices between tiles and brick, illuminating the interior. The ceiling tiles have been mostly left untouched, but where artworks were once carved into the wall, there are now flat panels of glass. At the Arcade’s south, the back entrance to the Arcade has been sealed off, and in the north, all but one of the seven arches has also been sealed with sleek glass walls.

Only the middle arch looks to have a door built from what resembles vertical glass teeth. ‘A bit of an ominous entrance...’

“Statement: This one felt inspired to make the entrance like that. Query: Does the Mistress like the entrance’s aesthetic?” 

I wince and look over to see Earl has snuck up on me for the third time today. Nodding, I reply, {It’s beautiful, Earl. I love it.}

She grins, revealing her own long sharp teeth.

{Is it like the gate? Do I just command it to ‘open.’} As soon as I think that, the entrance’s teeth slide into the ceiling and floor, allowing sun into the room and revealing the figure of a woman with a canvas bag, perfect posture, and a helmet reminiscent of my arc suit. Even though she wears the helmet that hides her hair and face, has on a ruffled cerulean gown, and wears jewelry that resembles butterfly wings, I recognize that this woman is Terra.

{It seems you’re awake,} Terra’s familiar voice says into my head.

I make the thumbs-up gesture. {Aye! It is good everyone seems to have fared well these past two weeks. Thou shouldst hurry inside.}

Terra’s heels click against the stone of the Terrace as she hurriedly enters through the arched door. {Yeah, I should.} 

“Amusement: Oh, it’s the acolyte,” Earl says, turning to gaze at me. “Statement: This one wishes to listen in on the Mistress’s and Acolyte’s conversation.”

‘Oh, aye, Earl can listen to anything I think in my head. More importantly, are Terra and Earl actually going to be able to tolerate one another? They are opposites in several ways, and they are both rather strong-willed. I suppose… I shall just have to see what happens.’

{Aye, I do not care if thou use thy lantern to listen in on the telepathic conversation between us. That will allow us to all talk with one another at the same time, I suppose.} A thought crosses my mind. {Wait, Earl, I did not think of this earlier, but will Terra be capable of seeing thee? Thou art also a spirit in a way, correct?}

“Response: This one is a spirit, though, they are forever bound to the Mistress, and different from typical low spirits in numerous ways, this one is likewise not seen by most fleshies.”

When Terra has walked through the arched entrance, I command the door to shut, sealing away the outside world.

Terra stops and stares at the walls. She looks up, admiring the soft glow of the Arcade. “You know how to make quite the entrance, Constance. Everyone outside will remember it for the rest of their lives, I’m sure,” she says out loud after removing her helmet.

{Was it crisp, and did it impress the people!? I did not get to see it!}

“Yes, you were very cool… Oops, I mean crisp.” Terra laughs and then says, “It’s good to see you, I’ve been having to do everything by myself, so I hope you’re well-rested.”

Earl scoffs. “Retort: The acolyte should be thanking Mistress for allowing her to assist.”

Terra smiles and then walks directly in front of Earl. She lowers herself to Earl’s eye line and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Earl; Constance has told me about you. If you want to call me ‘Acolyte’ when it’s just Constance, you, and I alone, that’s fine.”

Pursing her lips, Earl glares at Terra and then sniffs the air. Her gaze drifts to Terra’s fabric-covered cheek and then upward to her inky right eye. “Observation: The Acolyte’s fleshling eye smells of Tenebrous and allows her to see this one.” Earl lifts her lantern, illuminating Terra’s face in its soft hoary light. “Inquiry: Did the Acolyte steal that flesh from another being, or did the Acolyte develop it through other methods?”

“A gift from my late father,” Terra says with a sigh.

“Response: The Acolyte seems discontent. If the Acolyte doesn’t want it, then the Mistress may be able to adapt it.” Narrowing her eyes, Earl taps her fingernails together. “Query: Would the Acolyte like to donate it to the Mistress?”

Terra raises an eyebrow. “I think I’ll keep my ‘fleshling eye,’ for now, Miss Earl.” Extending her hand, Terra says, “But, it’s a pleasure to meet you for the first time, Earl. I hope we can have a cooperative relationship.”

“Rhetorical Query: Oh, a pleasure to meet this one for the first time, is it? Response: Perhaps this one knows the Acolyte better than the Acolyte realizes.” A grin spreads across Earl’s face. “A contract with a Kiln, such a bold move from a novice Spirit Scribe. Of course, this one doesn’t expect just any Spirit Scribe to understand that a reciprocal contract with a Kiln is not a two-way street, but more like a fork in the road.”

I tilt my head, trying to fully comprehend the underlying conversation taking place.

Terra’s smile fades, replaced by narrow eyes. She stands but keeps her hand extended. “If that’s true, then I guess a handshake is even more called for than I realized.”

“Response: Oh, this one has seen this fleshie custom through the Mistress’s light.” Taking Terra’s hand that is still hanging loosely in the air, Earl says, “Statement: This one would also like to state that they like the Acolyte’s current expression much better. If the Acolyte wishes to lead the fleshie’s, that expression will get the Acolyte more of what they desire than any smile ever will.”

Earl maintains her sharp grin, and Terra maintains her hard gaze while the two stare at one another without breaking eye contact.

I shuffle over to the two. {Prithee, I desire for everyone to get along.}

Earl pulls her hand away, creating a thin line of gray fog behind. This is the first time I have seen that Earl, like me, is not wholly corporeal.

Terra places the hand she used to shake Earl’s cold palm on the warm skin of her other arms forearm. She smiles. “Of course, Constance. I’m already treating her differently than I treat most people… Or spirits, in this case, I guess?”

“Response: This one was merely engaging in fleshie conversation.” Earl hugs her lantern. “This one has no qualms with the Acolyte. Quarry: Isn’t that right, Acolyte? The Acolyte has been enraptured by this one, have they not?”

In response, Terra nods and lifts her eyebrows. “Oh, yes, so much so, I’m a bit lost for words.”

“Statement: It appears the Acolyte does not know this one has taken the appearance of the Mistress’s younger persona.”

Terra’s eyes sparkle, and she looks at me as if looking for confirmation. 

{In… in some ways, I suppose, but there are several differences between us. Earl has made it her own, to be honest.} I rub the back of my neck. {Rather than my childhood appearance, art thou not more interested in learning more about spirits? Earl knows much of the spirit realm—Tenebrous.}

“Of course I am.” Terra lowers herself back down to Earl’s height. “As much as I’d like to sit down and talk about it, we have much more pressing things going on. Like...” Terra’s eyes dart around Earl’s figure, taking in every detail of my youthful, undead appearance. “Like that young Constance is standing right in front of me!”

When Terra leans in a bit closer, Earl raises an eyebrow. “Warning: This one bites.”

Terra takes a deep breath. “Constance, your hair, it was so red, and your cheeks were so adorable.”

I rub my foot against the Arcade’s floor and cannot help but look away after hearing Terra’s comments.

“Critical Warning: This one is preparing to bite the Acolyte.”

Returning my gaze to the pair, I can see Earl pursing her lips and Terra smirking.

Terra pushes herself back up into a standing position. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, for now.” She steps over to me and drops the canvas bag. “I need to update Constance on everything that has been happening anyway.” She glances at Earl and then says, “I’d like it if you stayed and listened too.”

“Statement: This one would listen regardless.”

Terra sighs, and then removes the arc suit from her canvas. “Anyway, explaining everything is going to take a moment, so you can put on this modified arc suit while I talk.” 

My eyes drift across the arc suit she removed. {Modified arc suit?}

“Yeah, we’ve made a few different versions for you, so you can mix and match how you want. Everything should be all-around sturdier now, too, with all the extra time the Helping Hands had to work on it.” She removes it and holds it up for me to see. “I picked one out that should be more a mix of practical and appearance.” 

The biggest differences are the helmet which now has a thicker piece of red and blue glass as its shield, the skirt, which is cut in a way to make it easier for me to move my legs, bulkier bracers, and a shoulder pad.

{I thank, ah, I am not supposed to thank thee… but did this not… cost a lot of coin?}

“It wasn’t as expensive because it wasn’t rushed like the first one was, so don’t worry.” She walks over, flips the suit onto its front, and then says, “Now, let me tell you exactly what has happened since you went into hibernation and how things are expected to progress from here.”

And so, while Terra explains everything, I begin pushing my haze into the hole at the back of the arc suit’s neck.

The explanations are long as I have to ask for clarification on many things, but Terra is patient with me. She starts with the days after I placed the Tower’s vent into the chamber pot tunnels.

The results of the vent first became apparent when things like roaches, fleas, spiders, beetles, and other such bugs all began crawling into people's homes through the chamber pot tunnel’s pipes.

They did this because they had outgrown the smaller pipes they inhabited. When Terra mentioned the deaths this had caused to some less fortunate people, the mood fell; at least for Terra and me, Earl seemed unfazed. This sort of incident has declined as the number of bugs capable of climbing into the smaller pipes has dropped, but it was replaced with larger bugs coming to the surface in other ways to gather food.

This was all expected though, we knew the consequences, and the benefits have also been apparent. Hunting parties consisting of awakened individuals has become a common sight, according to Terra. According to Terra, the chamber pot tunnels have also begun to develop their own ecosystem, something we did not really anticipate.

Once I am in my arc suit, we take a seat in the middle of Arcade and move into the next topic—the seven known Kiln that have sprouted in Manhattan.

The first Kiln to sprout anywhere, including outside of Manhattan, was on a spit of land in the harbor named ‘Liberty Island’ in the southeast of Manhattan.

“The center of the island collapsed inward, leaving the Statue of Liberty tilted on its side and partially submerged in the water,” she explained, gesturing vaguely. “That part of the harbor has been transformed into an atoll. Both the inside of the atoll and the encompassing area now look like some kind of forest full of pink coral, and when I say forest, I mean that the coral is the size of trees. It’s like a pink coral reef that has grown too large for the sea it sprouted from. Other than the coral, the only other things people have reported are sea snakes swimming in between the coral trees.”

After describing the events that unfolded around the first known Kiln, she starts to tell me about the other Kiln based on distance from the Tower:

The first of these is only around two miles south of us. Terra sighs. “The windows blew out of a building, and putrid water began pouring out of it. The water swept a bunch of people into it and flowed into Bryan Park. Most of those people weren’t recovered, and now that part of the city resembles a bog wedged between billion-dollar skyscrapers. There have also been reports of wooden boats bobbing around in the water, and the number of boats matches the approximate number of victims. Lastly, the whole area stinks, and as one might expect, it is absolutely swarming with flies. Except, these particular flies tend to attack anyone that gets too close to the boats,” she emphasizes the last part with a firm gaze. 

Her words imply that this Kiln is likely the same one that tried to preemptively destroy me when my guard was down two weeks ago.

Terra shifts the conversation to the next Kiln, and her expression takes on a rare look of uneasiness. She starts by saying it is around two and a half miles southwest of us. “There have been reports of some kind of mysterious casino appearing in the uppermost floors of the old Terminal Warehouse.” She explains to me what a casino is, a gambling den with machines essentially, and then she says, “Two people went up there and never came back. Despite that, people have reported seeing a multitude of different shadows that look to be playing slot machines and cards through the warehouse’s windows.”

Pointing in the direction opposite the casino, the next Kiln seems to also be around two and a half miles from us, except in the northeast. “What we think is a Kiln appeared at the top of the Harlem Fire Watchtower. At first, it was hard to tell because it was just a small shack made of briers that didn’t seem intent on doing anything. That changed when someone went inside, and it slammed shut. The next day there was a second shack reported three hundred feet away from the first. Once the door on the second opened up, the person from the first walked out like nothing ever happened and then went about their day. When questioned, he claimed he spent the night reading poetry with an elderly man in his home, and he has a ‘new, greater understanding of life.’”

She drops her arms, and we return to the southwest of the city. “In the Meatpacking District, on Gansevoort Street, reports of huge volumes of stolen meat have been given to me by the Consortium. They say the meat has been disappearing into a bakery that has been sealed off in the area.”

{Sounds normal to me,} I say to Terra.

“...It wasn’t you was it?” she asks.

I shake my head.

The next Kiln is technically the closest at only around a mile and half east of us but is confined to an island with only a single bridge. In reality, it is closer to three and a half miles from us by foot. “People have been reporting mysterious musical rhythms and a bright light coming from the small Blackwell Island Lighthouse. Not much more on that one, because there isn’t anything there when people go there to investigate the sounds. That includes the lighthouse itself.”

Around seven and a half miles northeast of us, there is the last known Kiln in Manhattan, excluding myself, of course. “A fungal-based Kiln appeared and has been at odds with the military. It has been kept at bay for now, but people are making comparisons to it and the Anchorage virus. That part of the city has been mostly abandoned by normal people. The ones that are left plan to come here if things devolve further.”

This fungal Kiln is causing the most trouble, and my thoughts on it are more personal. This fungal Kiln is undoubtedly the one that infected the Wretched and Elderly Rats. Thinking about it more, I realize that the Wretched Rat also had fungus outside its body and briers on the inside. That seems to imply that the fungal and brier Kiln may have both done something to the Wretched Rat. If that is true, at least three Kiln were involved in my attack, the fly, the brier, and the fungal Kiln. Though, none of those explain the parchment that exploded. The exploding parchment came closer to crippling me than the Wretched Rat did, in all honesty.

With the last known Manhattan Kiln described, she goes on to tell me how the numbers of Kiln are much higher in the surrounding areas. She also tells me that we can expect to see one or more Kiln a day appear in Manhattan.

Things go quiet while I absorb all the information provided to me. {So, there are more to come, and we are near the center of it all. It sounds as if we shall be sealed away from the rest of the world as we always anticipated.}

“Well, things have grown more complicated with the military, Consortium, and our overwhelming success in attracting attention, but yes. I believe it will become impossible within the next month to try to come into or leave Manhattan by ground.”

{Then I suppose that means we should take advantage of that time then.}

“Yes, this time will be critical.” Raising her finger, she begins to count things off. “We need to strengthen ourselves first and foremost. Then learn more about our new neighboring Kiln and fully reclaim the Galtry Syndicate. Once we’ve done that, we can erect some sort of defenses around the Tower, water, gates, and stored supplies.” Terra’s face becomes progressively more fatigued every time she names something. “After that, we need to find a way to feed people before grocery stores run dry while also preparing more or repurposing facilities. All while we prepare people to enter your Tower and encourage the people to also strengthen themselves.”

{Thou hast been thinking about these sorts of things a lot since I went into hibernation, I see. I believe we can make it work.}

A young girl’s voice echoes within the glassy Arcade. “Statement: This one has a suggestion. Query: Would the Mistress and the Acolyte like to hear it?”

Terra nods. “Please, I’d love to hear your suggestion,” Terra replies.

Looking at Earl, who is against the wall, tapping her nails against her lantern, I respond, {...I have a bad feeling about it, but aye, go ahead, Earl.}

“Recommendation: This one suggests that the Tower be filled not with mere bugs, but with more advanced and evolved flesh creatures that can be harvested for large amounts of flesh.” Earl grins. Her tapping against the lantern becomes more frequent and rhythmic. “Statement: A few fleshlings might be eaten or suffer some other misfortunate, but from what this one understands about fleshlings, starvation is a much more unpleasant and pitiful way to return to Tenebrous.”

{I…} I glance at Terra, who seems lost in thought. {Starving certainly is not pleasant, and large amounts of meat would be a welcomed luxury.}

“Inquiry: Then would it not be better to allow these poor fleshies a chance to prove themselves as Fleshie Champions, rather than allow them to merely starve outside? Is that not just such a pathetic and unfulfilling way for a fleshie to die?” Earl raises an eyebrow. “Statement: Or perhaps this one is wrong and requires correction.”

Terra and I remain quiet for a moment.

A sigh escapes Terra’s mouth. “Thank you for the suggestion, Earl. Those are certainly some valid criticisms and thoughts, and I have had them myself, but I don’t think we’ve made it to that point yet.”

I nod in agreement. {More importantly, I do not wish to create something I cannot handle myself.}

Earl stops tapping her fingers against the lantern. “Response: I suppose it’s not a bad strategy to just wait until the majority of fleshlings are already too far gone. Then the problem will take care of itself.” Tilting her head quizzically, Earl looks at Terra. “Statement: Perhaps, if the fleshlings are lucky, the Lake beast will grow so fat on their corpses its belly will burst. Then they can eat of its flesh like the maggots they’ll eventually die as if they continue to be coddled.”

Terra’s eyebrows narrow. “I won’t let things devolve that far, Earl,” She says in a stern voice.

Earl shrugs, begins humming a jaunty tune, and then returns to rhythmically tapping on the lantern’s glass with her fingernails when her hum reaches an impasse.

After another moment of silence with naught but the sound of tapping, Terra takes a very long breath and lets it out slowly. She looks at me, forces a smile, and then says, “I have some other things to show you.”

{Outside? Is the Hex Church not around? Is it a good idea for us to go out there?}

“Ah, Yes.” Terra’s expression turns angry and red as she glances in the direction they left in. “They have thrown their support behind the Tower, opened up their church to the people, and then announced that they will be seeking the ‘mercy’ we declared all mankind could have in our videos.” She crosses her arms, pauses for a moment, and calms herself down. Her face recovers its normal complexion, and she then says, “Basically, they called us out in front of everyone, and now we’ll look like hypocrites if we deny them.”