The farmhouse in question was far from the traveller’s road, surrounded by acres upon acres of fields, all bare and covered in a thick layer of snow. I had to use my portals to approach the building; this far from the traffic of the road, the snow was too thick to wade through. I held my coat tight around me to shield me from the worst of the cold air, and the purple scarf that Arzak had made for me in times gone by fluttered in the wind.

  There was someone inside. I could tell that from the flickering light of a lantern on the ground floor, and the silhouette of a woman that had made no effort to hide herself. As far as I could tell, the shape I saw in the near-darkness was that of my mother. If this was a trap, it wasn’t a very good one, and I suspected she was capable of quite an elaborate ambush if she intended one.

  I considered activating my latest Stealth ability, my echoed veil, but I decided against it. If I was going to end this, it wouldn’t be with tricks, it would be with truth. It would be by getting through to my mother, by convincing her to abandon her cause or perhaps even to join ours. After all she’d done, I knew it would be an uphill battle—I wasn’t in denial—but I had to believe that our shared blood meant that she was capable of greatness. If she wasn’t, I would either strike now, or inevitably we would meet on the field of battle.

  I paused on the farmhouse’s old, rickety porch, then rapped once, twice, three times on the front door.

  ‘Come in,’ my mother’s voice called out, her tone steady, calm.

  The metal door handle was freezing to the touch. I wrapped my hand in my scarf to twist it, and the front door swung open, the resulting creak echoing around the house. I stepped through it, searching for signs of a trap, but I came up completely empty.

  ‘Through here.’

  The voice came through the door to my right, which led to the farmhouse’s kitchen-dining room. My mother sat at the far side of a wooden dining table, and had placed the Sisyphus Artifact in the centre of it. My eyes lingered on the artifact.

  ‘Yeah, I thought that might be enough of a lure to make you come to me.’

  I flicked my eyes to her. ‘A lure? Then this is a trap.’

  My mother held her hands in the air to protest her innocence. ‘No trap. Stealing your artifact was only… motivation. I don’t have much interest in Elecon’s creations.’ She gestured to the chair opposite her. ‘Sit.’

  I didn’t move. Trap or no trap, I was hardly eager to follow my mother’s instructions. Part of me was tempted to open a portal on the table, snatch the artifact out from under my mother’s nose, and then open a saved portal back to camp. I didn’t, partially because I thought she might have planned for that, and partially because I wanted to hear what she had to say.

  Was this what it was like to have parents? Did you want to believe in their redemption, no matter what they had done? Would Val, too, want to forgive her parents for abandoning her, if only they showed the slightest regret?

  ‘I want to talk. No more games, no more lies, even if we’d prefer to save face. I want the truth laid bare between us.’

  I didn’t answer, and kept my eyes firmly upon her as I reached out for the back of the seat. As I pulled it backward, its two rear legs scratched across the wooden floorboards, a screeching sound enveloping the otherwise silent farmhouse. My mother stared back at me as I took the seat.

  She said nothing.

  ‘You want to talk?’ I prompted her. ‘Talk.’

  ‘I want you to join us.’

  ‘I know. I’m not going to. Surely you know this by now? Surely we don’t have to retread that ground?’

  My mother sighed, then rose from the table. Instinctively, I reached for my dagger.

  ‘No need for that,’ she said as she strolled over to the kitchen, ‘I’m making us a cup of tea. You do drink tea, don’t you?’

  ‘Sure. I drink it.’

  ‘You get that from me. I love the stuff. It keeps me moving.’

  I didn’t know what to say to that—I wasn’t here to make small talk, so I kept quiet. My mother turned her back to me as she rummaged around the cupboards in search of tea. ‘They must have some,’ she muttered. ‘What kind of family doesn’t have tea?’

  ‘Did you kill them?’ I asked.

  She turned, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘This family,’ I clarified. ‘That live here. I don’t see or hear them anywhere. Did you kill them?’

  ‘I found the place like this. Do you still think I kill without reason? Then this conversation really is long overdue.’ She pulled a small tin from a top shelf, and sniffed inside. ‘Ah. Perfect.’

  ‘What conversation? Why have you summoned me here? Can we just get this over with?’

  My mother lit the flames under the grill, then placed a full iron kettle on top of it. Satisfied that it would boil in time, she took her seat once more. ‘I want to tell you about your legacy.’

  ‘I’m creating my legacy as we speak. I’m taking you all down.’

  ‘I want to tell you about the legacy of the Architects,’ she clarified.

  My stomach churned, though I tried my best not to give my disgust away.

  When I said nothing, my mother continued, ‘We were fair people, once. We were fair humans, I suppose I should clarify, considering we’re in this world and at this time. Our history was checkered—we had dark times, and we had such bright, bright times. We were capable of creating such joy, in the time before Elecon’s bioweapon. His apocalypse forced us into the worlds we’d conjured only for recreation. They were shallow alternatives to our own world, supposed to provide fleeting enjoyment. They weren’t intended for us to live in full time.

  ‘But these otherwise meaningless worlds—like the one we’re in right now—became our only option. We couldn’t live in what you would call the Ascended World, or we would die. Initially, we made do. But in time, the flaws in the plan showed. Our continued presence here put too much of a strain on these worlds, and the cracks in creation began to show. What you’d call… corruption.’

  ‘You’re saying you’re responsible for the malae?’ I asked. ‘Just when I thought your sins could not get any greater, you—’

  ‘Please, son, let me finish. Let me say my piece.’

  A chill ran down my spine as she called me “son”. Some part of me wanted to grab my knife right there and then and put an end to all of this.

  ‘I was not directly responsible for the malae. None of us were. They were just creatures that formed at the bleeding edges of our reality. We tried to fix the corruption, we truly did. Those of us who only have lives left in Alterra A06 tried—’

  ‘The Council, you mean. Say it. You say you don’t want to play any more games? Then talk straight. Say what you mean.’

  My mother swallowed. The kettle beginning to boil saved her from having to respond straight away. She gathered herself as she rose from her chair and poured the boiling water into a pair of mugs. With her back to me, she continued, ‘The Council tried to fix it. They sent me and another out into the Badlands with that express mission. We—’

  ‘Elfric told us.’

  My mother froze mid-movement, and I could see her back tensing. She didn’t want to hear this.

  So, naturally, I pressed the topic further. Anything that was uncomfortable for her was surely the means by which I might bring her around to my side. ‘Elfric told us everything. He told us about all the people you killed.’

  ‘People who tried to stop us from doing what had to be done,’ my mother retorted.

  ‘Innocents,’ I said. ‘Children.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you sacrifice one to save a world? Is that not the exact moral quandary you are presented with right at this very moment? Kill the Council to save the world, right?’

  ‘The Council are evil. The children you killed, on the other hand…’

  ‘Who are you to say who’s evil?’ my mother asked.

  ‘Who are you to say who it’s right for you to kill?’

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  ‘I was trying to save them. It was for the greater good. They would have died anyway.’

  When she spoke, I heard something waver beneath the surface of her tone. This was the first time I’d sensed any doubt in her mind about what she’d done. Or had I imagined it? Had I wanted to hear doubt? Had I wanted it to be there?

  I pressed the matter further. ‘Do you know how you sound? Do you know how you sound, justifying taking the lives of innocents?’

  My mother grabbed a tea cup in each hand, then slammed them against the counter. The ceramic shattered beneath her grasp, the shards cutting into the soft flesh of her palms, but she didn’t notice. ‘You don’t think I know that? You inherit so much from me, but you didn’t inherit the strength to do what has to be done.’

  ‘It’s not a matter of strength. It’s a matter of knowing right from wrong.’

  ‘You don’t get to make that call.’

  ‘And you do?’

  ‘Yes!’ my mother shouted, turning back to me at last. ‘I am a god! All my kind, that is what we became the moment we created those new worlds for recreation. We went through apotheosis. We transcended the limits of our species. We are this world’s creators, and this world should be honoured to serve us.’

  I forced myself to remain calm, to fight the anger that was rising within. I breathed deeply before I replied, composing myself. ‘Do you believe that? Or has Tana filled your head with those lies?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Because more and more I’m starting to think it’s the latter. As you keep reminding me, much of the blood that runs through my veins also runs through yours. I’ve overcome my darker impulses. Why can’t you?’

  My mother went quiet, just for a moment, and that darkness I was used to seeing in her eyes… softened. She approached the other side of the dining table, but didn’t take a seat, instead perching on the back of her chair.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she finally said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  ‘I think I understand all that I need to.’

  But my mother shook her head. ‘No. You don’t.’ She took a breath. ‘How many people will die with this world? How many people are there in Alterra, do you know?’

  ‘Tens of thousands. Hundreds, maybe. That’s a lot of blood to have on your hands.’

  ‘You’re right; hundreds of thousands,’ my mother replied. ‘Do you know how many of us there were in the Ascended World? Billions. That’s how many of my kind will die, in time, if we do not create a world in which we’re immortal. You want to talk about blood on your hands?’

  I shook my head, rising from the table and placing my hands down upon it. ‘That’s not the same. What you’re talking about, it’s people reaching the end of their natural lifespans. It’s people reaching the end of multiple natural lifespans, in fact. You’re blaming me for their deaths, when you should be blaming your own gods for making you mortal!’

  ‘We have no gods!’

  ‘Then blame the forces of nature. Don’t blame people just trying to survive. You have another option. You could save this world, not destroy it. You could fix those tears in the world. You could live out your lives here, and you could be happy.’

  She held my gaze. In fact, she held it for so long, and with eyes so faded of the usual darkness, that I thought I might have got through to her. But my mother’s eyes flicked to the doorway instead, as though she couldn’t bear to look at me any longer.

  My mother let her head fall to her chest for just a second, in exasperation. ‘You could’ve been like me. You could’ve been unstoppable; I see that potential with you. You only need to embrace your destiny.’

  ‘I am embracing my—’

  My mother blinked out of sight. She’d activated her invisibility magicks.

  ‘What are you—’

  I caught sight of a flash of metal, a knife slicing at my cheek. It wasn’t a deep cut, just enough to draw blood. Red droplets splashed on the ground. I reached for my weapon.

  ‘I’m not evil, son,’ her voice rang out from the other side of the room. ‘I’m just doing what I have to.’

  I stepped through a portal and lashed out with my blade, but caught only thin air. Something hard hit me on the back of the head, and I fell forward, landing on one of the dining chairs then bouncing off it onto the floor. ‘Should have bought the…’ I muttered, trailing off only when I remembered not to give up our advantage.

  ‘You want to kill me, son?’ My mother asked. Her voice came from the direction of the hallway.

  I charged, angry enough not to lash forward with my knife but to jump into a tackle instead. I missed once more, but felt the tiniest bit of resistance to my knife. Immediately, I jumped back to my feet and lashed out blindly with my blade, just as the front door opened.

  Someone gasped.

  My heart dropped; the gasp I’d heard hadn’t belonged to my mother. It had been a man.

  When I turned to face the figure standing in the doorway, I realised that it wasn’t a man at all. The person before me was a teenager, barely more than a child himself. Not something who’d had years of adult life to gain experience, to gain the strength to withstand even a single one of my stabs.

  The teenage boy looked down at the blade sticking out the middle of his chest, then he blinked up at me. ‘You’re not Cal…’ was all he managed to say before falling to the floor.

  ‘Oh, no, no, no,’ I muttered, panicked, searching for the health potions that I hadn’t brought with me. I pushed my hands around the blade, trying to stem the bleeding, cutting my own hands in the process. I was about to open a portal back to the camp, hoping that I’d be lucky and that the kid and I would fall out of it in front of Val or another healer, but then a notification popped up.

  Agricultural student defeated!

  Knifework — +50xp

  I scrambled backwards from the body, looking at the blood stain on my hands. I turned, then retched in the corner of the room.

  ‘What have you… what have you done?’ I shouted, but for all I knew, there was nobody there. For all I knew, I was alone with the body of the boy I’d killed.

  Had this been my mother’s plan all along? I’d come here to convert her to my cause, some deep-rooted part of me sure that my mother could be saved, even after all she’d done. But perhaps she had sought to convert as well. Perhaps she had brought me here to corrupt me.

  She’d known someone was coming to the house. Her eyes had flicked to the door only minutes earlier.

  This had been her plan.

  I snatched the Sisyphus Artifact from the table and ran from the farmhouse.