A Flowing Feast
Chapter
???
- Must we really sit here, Adèle? I have had quite enough—strikes and traffic everywhere!
Adèle
- Oh, well, yes, this isn’t Versailles, madame. The streets in Le Marais are always a tight squeeze. Besides, we’re almost there.
- I believe the salon should be right above us, in one of these buildings. The traffic might thin once we’re near Place des Vosges.
???
- These streets were never the problem, my dear. Perhaps you’d prefer a client that lets you drive on the boulevards of Saint-Germain-des-Prés instead. Now, did you bring what I asked?
The faint clinking of metal reveals the driver’s effort.
Adèle
- Voilà! It survived all the bumps!
Adèle
- I know what you’ll say, Madame Félicienne, but I must ask again.
- Do we really need to carry these pastries around with us?
Félicienne
- Not at all. Provided you ensure there’s always a Ladurée around the corner.
Adèle
- If only that were in my power, madame. Oh look, we’re here, and with time to spare. Great, no need to rush.
By now, she’s used to her employer’s temperament and knows exactly how to calm her down.
Adèle
- I’ll be sure to make some adjustments before tomorrow. Maybe stop by the Champs-Élysées and get those macarons you like before picking you up.
Félicienne
- That will do nicely. Now, shall we go in? You worked hard to find that shortcut. Let’s not squander our timeliness.
The remark gives the weary driver just enough motivation. She closes the door and spins around with a proud flourish.
Adèle
- See? Just like I said from the start—
- “I know Paris like the back of my hand!”
Thou art the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory.
(ATAH MAKUTH VE-GEBURAH VE-GEDULAH)
Forever. Amen.
(LE-OLAHM AMEN)
(Divination Salon)
Soft smoke fills the chamber, tinged with frankincense, myrrh, and iris root. Gathered onlookers hold their breath in silence, all eyes fixed on the woman in the center.
She murmurs under her breath as she produces a simple wand, half white and half black, tracing pentagrams in each cardinal direction as she throws open her arms.
Madame Raymond
- Before me, Raphael. Behind me, Gabriel. At my right hand, Michael. At my left hand, Auriel.
- Before me flames the pentagram. Behind me shines the six-rayed star!
Her deep voice trails off, and the burning incense flares bright like a guiding star in the dim room.
Madame Raymond
- Shown to me … This, I see … The whirlwind in the north, the giant cloud, and the blazing flames …
- Through the stifling cloud comes light, a piercing flame, a manifestation of divine wisdom.
Lady Visitor
- And what, madame? What do you see? Do you …
Madame Raymond
- Four angels have answered and four aids given so that I may glimpse the secrets of the Archive of Imagery.
- Your husband is nowhere to be seen. Yet his shadow lingers still in the house.
Lady Visitor
- …!
- Yes. Yes! How did you know that?
- Sometimes I feel his presence. I … I see him in that khaki coat.
The woman rushes forward, gripping tightly at the edge of the divination table.
Lady Visitor
- Madame, please! What’s happened to him? How do I bring him home?
Adèle frowns. She lowers her voice into a whisper that blends into the other murmurs in the room.
Adèle
- Poor woman. Sounds like her husband’s gone missing. Just one of who knows how many others that have lost someone lately.
- You know, my friend in the police told me there hasn’t been any progress on these cases. If only it were as easy as all this. What do you think she’ll tell her?
Félicienne
- That it’s a curse, a demonic possession, or some such nonsense. That’s the usual prattle anyway.
The diviner gives a small nod to the pleading woman and turns to face her audience.
Madame Raymond
- He is bound by a curse—held fast in the claws of a monstrosity!
- A beast born of no mortal womb, a foul creature of darkness, nurtured by the shadows that cloak this city!
- The old order has been shattered, yet there has been nothing to take its place. We are without shelter, and the beasts are circling, sniffing, coveting our troubled souls.
- They have awakened from their centuries-long slumber, bringing torment upon us! We have called them forth. We have set loose this horror: the Beasts of Gévaudan!
An ominous pall falls over the room at the sound of its name, like a taboo has been broken. The murmurs stop. Breath stops. The pause holds tension like a breaking dam until gasps pierce through one by one.
Participant I
- So that’s what those rumblings were. The shadows have returned!
Participant II
- Maybe that’s what happened to my missing workers.
Adèle
- Ah, bravo, madame. “It’s a curse,” just as you said! The same old rubbish.
- If curses were half as powerful as people think, my family and I would’ve been snuffed out long ago.
Félicienne
- Spare me the morbid talk, would you? How would I ever get around without my driver?
She throws out the remark, then turns a sharp glance to the diviner on stage.
Madame Raymond
- I cannot expel the beast. It is beyond my power.
- But I do have some means to sap its strength.
Her apprentice steps up at once, holding out several small items.
A crystal etched with a strange symbol, ink, white candles, and a strip of black silk.
Madame Raymond
- Our world mirrors the one above, bound in its reflection. All things find their place in the Great Chain of Being.
- Sometimes, powers may be drawn from those higher along the Chain.
- From Saturn, I ask for knowledge and insight. And with its power, I offer you this pendulum. Keep it close, and your husband will find his way home.
Lady Visitor
- Thank you! Thank you, madame! There are no words!
Félicienne’s patience lasts only long enough to hear that much.
She rises silently, and Adèle follows close behind.
Félicienne
- I was hoping to hear some insights on arcane study or at least some decent gossip. Had I known it was just some poseur selling tired old charms, I wouldn’t have bothered.
Adèle
- There are still plenty of places in Paris worth a visit! If you’re in the mood for fashion, there’s the Galeries Lafayette Haussmann. Or for antiques and curiosities, we might try le Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen. Something to take your mind off this, erm, “performance.”
The crowd surges forward, eager for answers. Though a few, like them, slip quietly out from the scene.
Though it seems unlikely anyone would notice, Adèle still lowers her voice.
Adèle
- Perhaps next time, we could go with my—
Félicienne
- Your hours are paid for. You’ll take me wherever I like.
Adèle
- Fine. As you say, madame. I shouldn’t overstep.
Her usual approach is anything but foolproof. Félicienne stops mid-step, giving her a half-smile.
Félicienne
- These cheap stunts are just a harmless little diversion. Besides …
- I believe I’m not the only one who’s taken an interest. How have you been finding Dogme et rituel de la haute magie?
Adèle
- Ah! How did you know about that? I’m just reading it for fun.
Félicienne
- Fun, is it? And what about those red squiggles you circled around every entry about generational curses?
Adèle
- Ah. How on—Did you go through my things? Oh, come on. Tell me!
Their small commotion draws just enough attention to catch the diviner’s eye.
Madame Raymond
- Madame, please stay just a moment longer.
- I see … clouds and chains around you … the bonds of one led astray, shackled by fixation … I might offer some clarity.
- Come closer so that I may see you better.
Only as every eye in the room turns their way does Adèle realize she is talking to one of them.
Adèle
- Félicienne, I think she’s talking to you.
Madame Raymond
- I’m speaking to you, madame. No need to look about. Please, come forward.
Adèle
- Me?
She looks at Félicienne, who, now quite suddenly intrigued by the scene, nudges her driver forward.
Félicienne
- Yes, you, Adèle. Well, don’t just stand there. Go on! Show her what’s what.
Adèle
- *sigh* Okay.
Feeling the weight of the gawking crowd, she stands across from the diviner and reaches for the pendulum on the table.
Adèle
- Forgive me, madame, but I have no interest in divination. And I didn’t come here for any advice, either.
- Frankly, I find it difficult to watch you take advantage of all these people.
She lifts the crystal and holds it up to the candlelight.
Adèle
- Excellent clarity, smooth to the touch. Hmph. A fine crystal at first glance.
- But there’s something else—the evenness of its hue and that flawless sheen. Nothing is ever this perfect.
Lady Visitor
- Whatever do you mean? But …
Adèle
- Let’s put it through a little test, shall we?
A small dragon pokes its head out from her sleeve as if on cue.
Adèle
- By fire, what is false is purged.
Flames flicker, yet the woman feels no heat. Though the once-beautiful crystal has been rendered into dull, broken shards.
The little dragon climbs nimbly onto Adèle’s shoulder and tilts its head to receive a gentle pat of approval.
Adèle
- Bravo, Feufeu.
The crowd stirs, and Adèle catches a few gasps of awe with satisfaction.
Lady Visitor
- What have you done to my crystal?
Adèle
- Please, allow me to explain. My name is Adèle Tavernier. Have you heard of us before? Les Taverniers? Famed jewel hunters?
- The arcane skill I just used has been performed by my family for generations. We’ve recovered and examined all manner of treasures, including the Bourbons’ own French Blue.
- Fire holds a certain power to reveal the true nature of what it touches. Through fire, we discern falsehood from truth.
- Sadly, madame, your crystal failed the test. It holds no wisdom of Saturn, nor any power from the so-called Chain of Being.
- But luckily, we exposed it before the coin left your hand, didn’t we?
Lady Visitor
- I … This …
The lady’s gaze darts between the diviner and Adèle before she bolts off the stage.
Adèle turns toward the dumbfounded diviner.
Adèle
- And you, madame, have given a lovely performance, I have to say. It’s almost a shame to bring it to an end.
- Ah, if only you hadn’t tried to deceive your client with that fake crystal. Things might have gone quite differently, no? My arcane skill would’ve spoken volumes about your integrity.
She shrugs toward the audience, each face in the crowd falling somewhere on a spectrum between starstruck and stupefied.
Until at last, applause bursts out. Félicienne claps eagerly along with them.
Adèle gives her an “all good” gesture and smiles. Félicienne replies with a brisk turn of her head.
Madame Raymond
- This is close enough, close enough for me to clearly see the shadow upon you.
Adèle
- Pardon?
She looks toward the diviner and meets those unblinking eyes staring straight at her.
Madame Raymond
- A Tavernier girl … The youngest and brightest, brimming with vitality.
The diviner leans forward. The space between them closes too fast. A chill runs down Adèle’s spine.
Madame Raymond
- The fated one has stepped onto her path. Twice will she collide with destiny—once risen, once descended. For a fate left vacant now shall be fulfilled!
Adèle
- You—
Madame Raymond
- The call must be answered! Walk with the wise, but beware their words. Beware the gaping abyss of death.
- What lies below shall reflect what lies above—one shall ascend, but all must be paid.
- All must return! All must restore—
- …!
- Monster! … B-Beast!
- Urh—Ugh!
Adèle
- She needs help! Someone fetch-fetch a doctor! Madame, can you hear me?
Participant I
- Why can’t she breathe?
Participant II
- What’s going on? Are we in danger?
Adèle
- Wait …
- Is she smiling?
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
??? :
- It was two years ago, or sixteen years hence, depending on which chronicle you follow.
- To me, it was as vivid as yesterday. But to young minds like yours, it seemed a kind of chaos unheard of.
- We should start from the beginning.
- With the war coming to an end, France faced countless possibilities. Its people, weary yet filled with hope, longed for lasting peace.
- The economy flourished for a time, and people from all walks of life came to France.
- Still, the impacts of war inevitably surfaced. As the wartime factories closed, people struggled to survive. Their hardships gave rise to new demands, and before long, Paris became a swirl of competing ideas.
Listener
- And just how is this connected to your story?
??? :
- That very much depends on your perspective. If your only interest is in the story itself—not the context—you might think it irrelevant.
- But I believe context matters. It keeps you from being thrown off by the details.
- That said, neither the economy nor society is our chief concern today. What I share with you now is a story, hearsay really—
Listener
- A story about this taxi driver, I presume.
??? :
- You presume correctly. A taxi driver caught up in the whirlpool of ideas that spun within Paris.
- A heroine born tied to a fate that promises adventure at the cost of her life, who only ever desired a quiet life in the city she loved.
- But fate does not ask for permission.
- And when this journey comes to a close, regret will be all that remains.
Listener :
- Sounds like this story doesn’t have the happiest of endings.
??? :
- It ends, as all stories must—whether that end is a happy one. You will soon find out.
Police Officer
- Please, follow the officer outside and leave your contact details before you go.
The shocked crowd file out like penned sheep, bleating and chattering with each step.
Participant I
- I doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight after that sight.
Participant II
- I told you we shouldn’t have come! Nothing good ever comes of fortune-telling!
Participant III
- What could explain all that? Hysteria? A disease, perhaps?
Participant I
- It’s possible. You know, Fabio and Franco told me their neighbor started ranting about fighting alongside Cardinal Richelieu. Next thing you know, the man’s leapt out the window riding a broom. Still in the hospital, I hear.
Participant II
- But remember what she said earlier? Maybe what she saw was her own killer.
Participant I
- You mean the Beasts of Gévaudan?
Fear, and a trace of hidden excitement, creeps onto every guest’s face. The century-old legend casts its terrifying shadow once again.
Police Officer
- Ladies and gentlemen!
- We will begin our investigation immediately. In the meantime, we ask that you not spread any rumors. There’s no cause for panic as of now.
The murmurs fade but the officer’s words have done little to calm them.
The crowd disperses, leaving behind a few key witnesses.
Adèle
- This isn’t going to get pinned on me, is it? I didn’t even touch her! You’ll testify for me, won’t you, Félicienne?
- Félicienne?
Adèle turns back to find her employer pacing around the corpse, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Félicienne
- Our so-called prophet failed to see her own demise. Well, if this isn’t an interesting twist …
Adèle
- What are you doing? Get over here before they scold you for disturbing a crime scene!
She sighs inwardly at her employer’s whims, relieved the nearby officer isn’t paying attention.
Police Officer
- Ah, not these Beasts of Gévaudan again.
Adèle
- Again? What do you mean, Benjamin?
She’s fortunate to have found a familiar face among the arriving officers.
Police Officer
- *sigh* It’s just a rumor and a wild one at that. Yet somehow, it’s spread to every corner of Paris!
- There have been a number of sightings of these so-called “beasts,” but by the time we arrive at the scene, there isn’t so much as a trace left of them—not even a hair!
- The whole world’s gone mad. Street crime is on the rise, and the last case we asked you for help with identification on? Well, that was completely … *sigh*
He presses his hand to his temple, giving it a soft rub.
Police Officer
- As if we don’t have enough to deal with! Half the city’s on strike, and every day there’s some new trouble, whether from the factories or out on the streets!
- I envy you, Adèle. How simple it must be to sit behind a wheel all day and show visitors around.
Adèle
- Oh, well, it comes with its own set of problems.
Adèle glances toward Félicienne. She seems to have lost interest in the corpse and is now intent on examining a chair in the corner.
Police Officer
- Heh. Knew you’d say that.
The officer pulls out a notebook and pen. When he looks up again, he adopts his best attempt at a professional tone.
Police Officer
- Let’s get on with it. There are some questions we need you to answer. You know how these things go.
- I trust you know this is strictly procedure. You were the person closest to the victim at the time of death. So please, Adèle, answer with care.
Adèle
- Go ahead. Ask away, officer.
The evidence has been cleared away. The coroner examines the body with visible concern. The diviner’s death is gruesome indeed.
Police Officer
- Blue lips, dilated pupils, clenched fists, and a stiffened spine … The coroner will have his say, I’m sure, but it looks like extreme shock to me.
Adèle
- Extreme shock? But …
Police Officer
- What were the circumstances of the event? Anything unusual?
Adèle
- The madame offered to read my fate, but halfway through, she started acting strange, staring at me and mumbling things.
- She said something about a beast and then collapsed to the floor.
Police Officer
- So, she was reading your fortune, saw a Beast of Gévaudan, and it what? Scared her to death?
Adèle
- It sounds ridiculous, I know, Benjamin, but it’s what I saw.
They exchange a glance.
The officer’s pen hesitates, weighing how much of the madness is worth writing down.
Finally, he closes the notebook with a resigned look.
Police Officer
- Okay. Thanks for your help, Adèle. I suppose it’s about time we tied all these cases concerning the beasts together.
- But it’s strange, no? How could creatures from a folktale more than a century old be doing all this here and now?
- This has to be more than a passing fad. Paris—hell, the entire country—has been gripped by all sorts of rumors. The streets are growing more volatile by the day.
Adèle
- You’re right. There are always people who will try to take advantage of these situations.
- Like this poor fortune-teller. I bet she heard some tales about my family and thought she could scam me with a sensational prophecy about my not-so-rosy fate.
Police Officer
- “Doomed to die on a quest for hidden jewels.” Seems the madame didn’t know that you’re the furthest thing from a treasure hunter.
- It’s hardly a secret that the Taverniers have a habit of meeting an unfortunate end.
Adèle
- Far from it. Which is why I didn’t believe her for a moment. The Tavernier Curse? Please, it’s just a story made up to dramatize the legends of my ancestors.
- From my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, who died after bringing the French Blue from India,
- down to my great-grandfather, who died chasing jewelry stolen from France during the Revolution.
- Call it a curse, if you like—a mystical power, fate, coincidence—whatever the words, the plain and dull truth is that hunting jewels is a dangerous line of work, no?
Police Officer
- That it is. While we’re on the topic, how are your parents doing? I recall you said they were still in the family business.
Adèle
- Out on some quest again. I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to where they are now; they move around so often.
- But they have sent letters. Living life to the fullest, as far as I can tell.
The officer exhales in relief.
Police Officer
- *relieved sigh* Glad to hear it. Maybe I should envy them instead. Traveling the world like that … Much better than being stuck in a police station.
- And you? Don’t you ever think of joining them on the hunt?
Adèle
- My parents and I are different, to say the least. I don’t share their obsession with shiny stones.
- A simple, comfortable life—that’s all I want. No glittering ambitions, no fancy things, just a job that pays the bills, fills my belly, and lets me get a good night’s sleep at the end of the day. Why anyone would want to think so hard every day is beyond me.
- In fact, this job was the first thing I saw when I opened the advertisements page. “Why not?” I thought. “Suits me better than treasure-seeking ever will.”
Police Officer
- Hahaha. I would expect nothing less.
He nods and slips the notebook back into his pocket.
Police Officer
- Good! I believe we have all we need from you.
- Please, don’t worry, Adèle. I see neither motive nor means for you to do her harm. You’re all clear.
- But we’ll get in touch if we need anything else. Oh, forgive me—another question. Was there anything else that seemed suspicious? Anything that stood out to you?
Adèle
- No, nothing really.
- Oh, wait!
- There was a woman. I don’t know if she’s involved, but there was something odd about her.
- It happened so fast, but still, while everyone else was too stunned to do anything, she sat there and smiled.
Police Officer
- She smiled? Do you recall what this woman looked like?
Adèle recounts the events as they happened. After hearing her out, the officer’s professional demeanor cracks a little.
Police Officer
- Hah, that’s Madame Beryl Bouanich. Couldn’t be anyone else! Owns a crystal parlor on Rue de la Paix. She’s a diviner, too.
- She’s the one who reported the case to us. Our officers have already spoken with her.
Adèle
- She reported the case?
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Inside the Taxi)
The engine starts, churning into a rhythmic patter as the black taxi moves forward. A chime sways in the taxi—a gift from her parents.
Adèle
- Well, I suppose that’s that. No mysterious murderer, just another diviner.
- Benjamin said they spoke to her already and cleared her of any suspicion.
Félicienne
- Cleared? I wouldn’t be so quick to believe that.
- Beryl Bouanich—she hides herself well, that one.
The passenger pops a pastry into her mouth, chewing with a mix of irritation and thought.
Adèle
- Hm? Do you know her, madame?
Adèle glances over in surprise. She’s never seen Félicienne look so displeased.
Félicienne
- This box is empty. Was that the last macaron?
Adèle
- Of course not! I got another box just for you.
She maintains an absolute sense of professionalism while taking out a neatly wrapped box from beside her seat.
Félicienne
- Ah, it seems my expectations have been surpassed, low as they were.
- Mmm. So delicious!
Adèle
- Hah, I must say, you seem to really have a sweet tooth.
The soft crunch of Félicienne biting into a pastry makes Adèle strangely tense. She grips the wheel, forcing herself to focus on the road ahead.
Félicienne
- So, Beryl Bouanich—where is she now? Did your little policeman say anything?
Adèle
- He said she’s running a crystal parlor on Rue de la Paix.
Félicienne
- Turn around. I should like to pay her a visit.
A familiar commanding tone comes from the passenger seat. Fortunately, by now, Adèle has learned how to handle it.
Adèle
- Now? I don’t know, Félicienne. It’s nearly the end of the day.
- I’m meeting a friend tonight. I told you that.
Félicienne
- Then you can tell your friend to meet you at Rue de la Paix.
A sharp glare follows the words, audible without even looking at her.
Félicienne
- I’ll double your pay for the evening. Turn us around. Take whichever route you like.
Adèle
- But …
Félicienne
- Ah, fine. Triple? No? Ten times, then.
Adèle
- Ten times?!
Adèle struggles against the temptation but weighs it against what she read in the pamphlets the strikers have been passing around. “Don’t be swayed by money alone; workers need rest!”
Adèle
- Ah … No, Félicienne, I really can’t. Célia’s always busy these days; I barely get to see her.
- She’s all wrapped up in this parapsychology thing. I haven’t seen her in so long. I don’t want to cancel on her.
- We’ll go to Rue de la Paix tomorrow. I promise.
Félicienne
- You live a terribly tedious life, Adèle Tavernier.
Félicienne narrows her eyes with acute displeasure, but before she can speak, she jerks forward from the passenger seat.
Félicienne
- Wait. Look! That’s her!
Adèle
- What? Who?
Félicienne
- Beryl Bouanich! Just there! Turn, now!
Adèle
- Let go! I can turn the wheel my—Rgh!
*screech*
Adèle’s car skids in a long arc before finally stopping, while the oncoming vehicle veers into a streetlight.
Agitated Driver
- Damn it! Have you lost your mind?
The driver climbs out, furious, pointing at Adèle as his shouting makes the windows rattle.
Agitated Driver
- Ah! I’m speaking to you! Out of the car! Now!
Félicienne
- …
Adèle
- …
Félicienne
- What are you staring at? You heard the man. Get out.
Adèle
- We’ll settle this later!
Pushing open the door, Adèle silently praises her own quick reflexes. The crash isn’t too severe.
There’s no sign of anyone like Beryl Bouanich on the street. The whole thing just feels like another stroke of bad luck on the drive home.
Adèle
- What was she thinking? Urgh, ah, grabbing the wheel like that! Never imagined my first crash would be like this.
She rubs her forehead and steels herself to face the fuming young man nearby.
Adèle
- I’m terribly sorry, sir. I was distracted—
Agitated Driver
- Sorry? Aha! Do you even have the slightest clue what sort of damage you’ve caused?
- We can’t afford to lose time here! The nation is calling to us!
He slams his fist against his own car. The already-dented trunk lets out a hollow, miserable groan as the crowd thickens.
Adèle
- Ah? The nation?
- Is that a strike slogan? Or do you mean you have urgent business to tend to?
Agitated Driver
- Our one true leader has returned! The Emperor has landed at Golfe-Juan! He will bring glory to France once more!
- He’s riding to Paris with only a few hundred soldiers at his side. Our Emperor is too distant from his people. We must go to him!
Adèle
- The Emperor? Golfe-Juan? What on earth are you talking about?
The man’s stern face makes it clear he isn’t joking. Adèle stares at him, at a loss for words.
But her silence seems to be taken another way.
Agitated Driver
- I see. You’ve sided with the Bourbons, haven’t you? You’re another one of the king’s stooges!
- The Sun of Austerlitz calls to me. I will not be stopped!
(Battle)
Agitated Driver
- Vive L’Empereur! The free men of Paris will never be defeated by the likes of you!
Adèle
- Hey! I’m a free woman of Paris too—I’m on your side!
Agitated Driver
- Lies! You’re nothing but a lapdog of the aristocracy! A blight on our society! A parasite to all of France!
Adèle
- I think you need to calm down, monsieur!
Agitated Driver
- Let me be! I must go to the Emperor!
Adèle
- Sir, calm yourself! Someone help me, please!
With help from the bystanders, Adèle manages to pull the driver down from the roof, though the commotion draws even more onlookers.
Curious Passerby I
- Ay, ay, ay! Another poor fellow lost in delusion.
Curious Passerby II
- Careful! Don’t get too close. He’s talking gibberish. The Hundred Days ended over a hundred years ago.
Adèle
- Please, someone, get him to the hospital. He needs help!
- Does anyone know this man? I really need to go. I have to see someone.
She looks at her scratched-up car and the indifferent lady inside, feeling a twinge of helplessness.
Just then, the crowd parts as several men in scholarly attire push their way forward.
???
- Vincent, my God! I’m terribly sorry for all the trouble he’s caused, miss! He’s my student. Please, allow me to cover the damages.
- Would you mind leaving me your address? I’ll take care of the rest.
A man in his forties finally makes it through, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. His face full of apology.
Several young people follow behind him—students, led by a girl Adèle immediately recognizes.
Adèle
- Célia!
Célia
- Adèle? Goodness, are you hurt?
She rushes over, checking that Adèle and the driver are safe before stepping back and introducing the others.
Célia
- This is Professor Roseau—the one I told you about. Professor, this is my friend, Adèle.
- She’s who I was going to see this evening.
Célia finishes her introductions, patting her friend’s shoulder in relief.
Célia
- Thank goodness you stopped him, Adèle! Who knows what might have happened otherwise.
Professor Roseau
- Yes, yes. You acted both quickly and rightly, miss.
Faced with unexpected thanks, Adèle scratches her head, trying to shift the topic back to the still-babbling driver.
Adèle
- Uh … What’s wrong with him?
Célia
- It’s a long story. He’s been acting strange for weeks.
- So when he didn’t turn up this morning, we went to his home to check on him. The door was open, and it was a total mess.
Professor Roseau
- Poor boy. Such potential. But then perhaps I pushed him too hard.
The man cuts Célia off, shaking his head, guilt written all over his face.
Professor Roseau
- I shan’t keep you, ladies. Célia, go with your friend. I’ll deal with all this.
Célia
- But …
Professor Roseau
- Please, Célia. Put this behind you and enjoy your evening. But be sure to join me for tomorrow’s fieldwork.
She glances at Adèle, then accepts her teacher’s offer.
After helping the poor man away, the crowd gradually disperses as night falls over the street.
Célia
- How’s your car? I know the professor said he’d cover it.
Adèle
- Not bad, just a dent on the bumper. It was a bit of a fright, but I’m fine now.
- Ah, wait! Sorry, Célia, I need to—
The whirlwind of events leaves Adèle dizzy. She finally regains her senses and runs toward her Peugeot 201 parked nearby.
Adèle
- Félicienne’s still in the car! I’ll have to take her back to the hotel.
- Urh. She’s not going to be happy after I left her like that.
- Félicienne! Fé—huh?
The passenger seat is vacant, replaced by a line of bright red words scrawled across the window.
Tomorrow, Rue de la Paix.
Adèle
- Oh, no. Is that lipstick?!
Adèle pulls out a handkerchief to wipe the writing from the glass, but despite her scrubbing, it barely fades.
Adèle
- First she grabs the wheel, crashing my car, might I add. And then, she has the cheek to scribble on the window! Ugh! She’s paying for a full clean, I swear it!
Célia
- Are you certain you’re alright?
Her friend walks over, peeking curiously through the window.
Adèle waves it off, refusing to let this small incident ruin their long-awaited dinner.
Adèle
- Ugh! I’m fine. *exhale* So, shall we eat at that spot near the Seine again, or are you feeling adventurous tonight?
- You said you couldn’t stand the campus cafés anymore. So, tonight, my darling, you choose the food.
Célia
- Really? I suppose if I could have anything … You know, what I’m really missing is some good home cooking.
She starts counting on her fingers, reciting a whole list of dishes.
Célia
- Onion soup, gratin dauphinois, maybe a bit of cheese for a small fondue. Oh, and I just bought a bottle of cider. What do you think?
- You simply have to come over and see my place now. I cleaned the whole thing. Balcony, too! I came over to ask you for help, but you weren’t home.
Adèle
- Home cooking it is! Hop in!
In perfect sync, the two circle to opposite sides of the Peugeot 201 and open the doors at once.
Adèle
- Buckle up, to home!
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
??? :
- I was running a crystal parlor in Paris back then.
- People came for all sorts of products—from ordinary crystal ornaments to the enchanted ones—I had them all. I recognized a few of my customers in your Suitcase.
- But many came seeking something I never put on the shelf—prophecy.
Listener :
- I can imagine. Who wouldn’t want to know their future?
??? :
- But our path through fate’s garden is already set. No prophecy can change where it leads.
- And I dislike putting a price on things that have no use.
- So I made myself a promise: that only those I trusted would get a glimpse of what lies ahead of them—a gift, nothing more.
Listener :
- So you sold prophecies too, then.
??? :
- I am afraid that was never an option for me. I could never put a price on it. Whether one knows about the future or not, their fate remains unchanged.
- A prophecy to fate is like a title to a book, and no bookseller should charge for the title alone.
- So, I only offered the gift of prophecy to those who did not come seeking it.
??? :
- To my surprise, it did something unexpected for my business. Word spread, and I recovered my investment soon enough.
Listener :
- I’m not surprised.
??? :
- Nor was I. Few things in life have ever surprised me, and this was much the same.
(Interrogation Room, Vigiles Bureau)
Vigil Officer
- The Tavernier curse—every member of your family is destined to hunt endlessly for treasure until they meet their end. Passed through blood relation, usually to the relative closest to them.
- You don’t believe in this so-called curse, do you, Ms. Tavernier? Or should I call you Brume?
The interview room is coldly silent except the faint whir of the recording camera.
Every word of the young woman’s statement is captured by the microphone, preserved as cold signals on magnetic tape.
Brume
- Given how things have turned out, it isn’t as easy as a yes or no, don’t you think?
She gives a helpless smile, looking down at her palms.
Brume
- But say it is true, then what of it? We’re all going to die, no? One day I’ll die searching for treasure, but before then, I’ll live as I see fit.
- I don’t plan on wasting away my days in fear.
She pauses briefly.
Brume
- The ending may be written, but that doesn’t mean I want to follow the story word for word.
- That’s what I told Cici as we were driving to her place. And now, looking back … Maybe that’s when it all began.
(Célia’s Home)
Adèle
- Mmm, so good! This gratin is the best. How’d you get so much flavor out of a simple potato?
Célia
- You like it, then? It’s just ordinary home cooking, really. Maybe it’s finally time you started doing it yourself.
Adèle
- Well, Papa didn’t exactly teach me much in the art. He’d just pop open a tin can and say, “Be grateful. When you’re in the jungle, this is a luxury.”
- But he never took me to the jungle. He never even let me leave Paris. I still haven’t been anywhere.
Célia smiles and shakes her head. She grabs the empty plate to scoop her friend another serving of potatoes.
Célia
- You can only blame yourself, Adèle. You were the one adamant about not becoming a hunter.
Adèle
- Of course! Because I don’t want my life planned out like a stage play! A-And don’t pretend you didn’t have a part in this. You’re the one who picked the page number in the advertisements.
Célia can’t argue, so she pours two more spoonfuls of stew over the mash, stacking it high into a little mountain and sliding it in front of Adèle.
Célia
- Sharp as ever. Since we’re on the subject, how is work going? Any interesting fares lately?
Adèle
- Hmm. There was one thing. Not sure if I would call it interesting, though. Peculiar, perhaps?
She bites down on her spoon, trying to recall the scene from earlier. The diviner’s expression is still vivid in her mind.
Adèle
- I was at a diviner’s salon, and the host … I don’t know; I think she was trying to scam me.
- She started rambling about all these strange things that would happen, things that sounded a lot like the Tavernier Curse. And then, she, well, she died.
Célia
- Died?
Célia’s eyes widen, her fork clinking unconsciously against the plate.
Adèle
- Then the police came, and I suppose the case is still under investigation. Anyway, you know what I think of those diviners. They’re not exactly people you should take seriously.
Célia
- Then why were you there?
Adèle
- Not by choice, that’s for certain. One of my clients was interested. Madame Félicienne.
- She always gets these sudden whims and insists on having everything done just as she pleases. I wouldn’t have crashed my car if she hadn’t—Bah, forget it. How’s university life?
Célia doesn’t answer Adèle’s question. Instead, she catches on to her words.
Célia
- She is a long-term client, then? Can’t say you’ve mentioned her before. Or maybe I’ve been spending too much time on campus, haven’t I?
Adèle
- What do you think? I swear, this little one might forget you completely if you spend any more time hidden away in your books!
Feufeu
- Rarr!
The tiny creature on Adèle’s shoulder lets out something like a protest, prompting Célia to playfully pat its head.
Célia
- Oh, heheh. I know better than that. This sweet little thing was summoned by your family’s incantation. As long as you remember, he remembers.
- Such a fascinating creature, the Tutelary. He sees every corner of your psyche, memory, and sensation, even your unconscious thoughts.
Adèle
- Hah, here comes Cici with another one of her academic lectures. Is this what you’re studying these days?
Célia
- Yes.
- Professor Roseau has found new inspiration in a Swiss psychologist’s theories. He’s pushing for some new breakthrough; the whole research team’s working on it. We’ve already seen some early progress.
Adèle
- That … “collecting brain” thing?
Célia
- Collective unconscious!
She adjusts her glasses with academic rigor and opens her notebook. Her poor student senses trouble.
Adèle
- Okay, okay. I won’t forget it again.
Célia
- Says the one who invents a new name for it every time. But it’s even more complex than you think, Adèle, and very important. It may even help us make Paris a better city.
- Imagine the minds of people like islands, each floating on their own,
- and the collective unconscious as the water that links them all.
- This is Jung’s idea of the collective unconscious—a psychic space shared by all of humanity.
- Human aggression—whether it be war, class conflict, or tensions between humans and arcanists—has always been a constant.
- It’s like the tides affecting the shared ocean between us. We build on our islands, but inevitably the tide will reclaim them.
The eager scholar closes her notes, fixing Adèle with an expectant look, waiting for her response.
Adèle
- Maybe this guy’s onto something. We’re all fighting for our place in these troubled times. But I don’t understand what’s unconscious about it. Are you saying that, deep down, we’re all war-hungry maniacs?
Célia
- Certainly not! But we are all under the influence of this collective mind. That’s why the same conflicts happen again and again, in all times, in all places, and to all people.
- We can’t force back the tide, but what if we found a new way to change the ocean itself—fill it with a new nature? One of peace and equality.
- Even one tiny drop of new thought could make a world of difference.
- What we’re trying to do is find some way to practically influence the collective unconscious—to create real and lasting change for everyone.
- I believe, truly, I believe it could do more to save us than any law or reform ever could!
Adèle scratches her head. She has no such lofty ambitions, nor any intention of changing anyone.
Adèle
- So, you want to control everyone’s minds?
Célia
- What? No! We still want people to think for themselves. We just want to change how they think.
- If we can plant a more hopeful vision into the collective unconscious, we could sow the seeds for a better future for all.
- Like how Victor Hugo wrote his dreams into his books, and they reached every reader in France.
- Only we’re doing it in a more controlled, systematic way than simply telling stories.
Adèle
- What about Vincent? He seems the furthest thing from controlled. Eh, loyalty to “the Emperor” aside.
- Are you sure this research is safe?
Célia
- Truthfully, I wouldn’t say it’s entirely without risk.
- The collective unconscious is a sea of primordial images formed into cultural motifs and symbols. The more popular that symbol is—or, the more often a theme occurs across cultures—the more powerful it’s said to be in our collective unconscious.
- Take Napoleon, our “conquering hero-king” and cultural symbol. Vincent … Well, he’s always admired him, so perhaps that made him more susceptible.
- We’re working in the mind, so it’s understandable that there might be some unforeseen effects. I fear Vincent may not be the last to suffer like this until we find a safer way to proceed.
Adèle
- Popular symbols … Recurring themes … Mental distress …
Adèle pauses as a thought strikes her.
Madame Raymond
- They have awakened from their centuries-long slumber, bringing torment upon us! We have called them forth. We have set loose this horror …
Adèle
- Like the Beasts of Gévaudan?
She repeats what she heard back at the divination salon.
Célia
- That old legend? But why would the Beasts of Gévaudan be …
- Wait, you might actually be onto something.
- As the rumors about the beasts have spread, it has gained a new identity in our collective unconsciousness, planting the seeds of terror inside just about everyone.
- Formidable!
Her friend leaps up from the table, dives for her notebook, and starts scribbling frantically.
Célia
- Thank you, Adèle! You truly are my very own academic muse! I must take another visit to the Dance of Death mural. It may play a part in all of this.
- I’ll buy you one of those good-luck necklaces when I publish my paper!
Adèle
- Then you’d better make sure it’s chic. I’ll want to wear it every day.
When it comes to her research, her friend’s enthusiasm is irrepressible. Adèle has long since grown used to it.
Adèle
- So, what comes next?
Célia
- It’s only a thought for now—one I must keep to myself. But you’ll be the first to know when it’s confirmed.
- I swear, you and indeed the whole world will be shocked!
- You know—and please don’t laugh—sometimes, I feel like an adventurer too. Hunting for hidden treasures with my pen and paper.
- I suppose what I do isn’t all too different from your parents after all.
Adèle
- …
Célia
- Forgive me, Adèle. That-that was inconsiderate of me. I got carried away.
Adèle
- You can find better role models than my parents, Célia.
- I got another letter from them the other day. It’s always the same: a mine sure to bring amazing profits and something about a mural.
Célia
- So you do read their letters! They sound exciting, don’t you think? You know how much I love adventure stories.
Her friend’s sudden burst of energy makes Adèle both amused and helpless.
Adèle
- That you do. Sometimes, I think you’re more of a Tavernier than I’ll ever be.
Célia
- Haha. I suppose I have always thought of you as a sister. Anyway, enough about that. Where are you taking your client tomorrow?
Adèle
- To Rue de la Paix. There’s a crystal parlor we’re going to visit.
Célia
- Because of what that diviner told you? You must be the master of your own will, Adèle. Don’t let your subconscious make all the decisions.
Adèle
- Whatever you say, Madame Professor.
Célia
- I mean it! So many things in life are stirred up from the depths of our minds.
There’s never an end to the things old friends have to say. They talk until the stars have claimed the night sky.
Adèle
- Cici, tell me, do you really think there’s such a thing as fate?
- Cici? Célia?
Her friend drifts off to sleep, wandering into some dream not yet connected to Adèle’s in that sea of collective unconscious.
Adèle
- Well then. Good night, dear friend. May tomorrow bring good luck to both of us.
Vigil Officer
- And it was on the following day that you paid a visit to Beryl Bouanich’s Parlor of Crystals?
Brume
- Correct.
Vigil Officer
- And there, you had another, ah, what did you call it? Unusual divination?
Brume
- Beryl Bouanich had foreseen my visit long before I arrived.
- Just as she had foreseen all that came afterward.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Rue de la Paix, Paris)
A dizzying crowd has filled Place Vendôme, flowing in from every direction.
The young driver leans against her car door, kicking at a small stone while watching the passersby.
Adèle
- “Tomorrow …” She never said the time. She’s not planning to keep me waiting until the evening, is she?
- Or has she already gone in?
She turns her head. The ornate carved door of the Parlor of Crystals is shut and shuttered, just as it was a few hours ago.
Adèle
- Should I knock again? Someone must be in at this hour.
- Hello?
This time, the door opens the very moment she knocks.
But once it does, all she can see is the dim corridor ahead.
Adèle
- Ah, finally. Perhaps they didn’t hear me knocking before?
- Er, hello? Right, I suppose I’ll just let myself in.
She steps inside. But the very instant her foot touches the floor, the last trace of light vanishes.
The tiny dragon’s flame barely lights the way, its tail swishing weakly.
Adèle
- They could at least leave a light on for the customers.
- Hello? Anyone here? I think my “friend” arrived before me. She’s about this tall—just enough to always be looking down her nose at you?
Adèle reaches out along the wall, feeling her way forward from memory.
Feufeu
- Grrrh!
Adèle
- What is it, Feufeu?
Following the dragon’s upward gaze, she spots a few faint, translucent figures with pointed ears.
???
- ～♪
Adèle
- Sprites. Of course. Where else would they be, if not in a diviner’s parlor?
- Let me be clear. I don’t care what kind of mischief you’re up to in here. Just don’t let it involve me!
(Battle)
The sprites shriek, batting at the harmless flames licking their bodies. Even if they can’t be burned, the fright is real enough.
Adèle
- Heh. Not so funny when the joke’s on you, huh?
- Now, lead on. Bring me to the owner of this place, understood?
Divination Sprite
- ♮♭♮♯♭♯♮♯♭!
Ignoring what sounds like their tiny frustrated protests, she follows the sprites to a door. Each one of them slipping inside ahead of her through the glowing crack.
She pushes it wide open.
(Parlor of Crystals)
The room looks as if it were woven from a million scattered threads of light.
The thought crosses Adèle’s mind as she takes in the transparent, shimmering crystals around her, their reflections gilding the dust in the air.
Here, every breath she takes seems to take in some of the shimmering light, almost like she is devouring the very spirit of the crystals.
Adèle
- How pretty.
- Never seen a parlor quite like this. The way these crystals are displayed … It feels like they’re not meant for sale or for exhibition.
She breathes as softly and shallowly as she can, attempting to blend into the light.
Adèle
- Is it the lighting that’s giving them such an otherworldly glow? Or maybe …
???
- Perhaps you are thinking of the Sephirot. When captured, they may be manifested through crystals.
A voice echoes from afar—bright, clear, like the sound of gentle tapping on a glass pane.
???
- Some believe it is through these Sephirot that the creator formed our world. Without them, the divinity is incomplete.
- The ten Sephirot … The astral light, the flames of the fire which burned in the bush, the glowing stream which flows from the Tree of Life, the “numerals,” “spheres,” “enos”—
- —and all aspects of reality.
Adèle
- Ah, then you must be …
- Madame Beryl Bouanich?
The shop’s owner smiles and nods. No further explanation is needed. Anyone who’s seen her would know exactly who she is.
She extends her hand, brushing a softly glowing pendulum with her fingertips.
Beryl
- Through certain objects and rituals—or by gnosis gifted at birth—we may catch a glimpse of a splendor that is not of this world.
- These crystals are one such object. In their reflection, we are shown the hidden secrets of the Archive of Imagery.
Her voice soothes Adèle’s nerves, though it comes out so softly that she struggles to register the meaning.
Adèle
- Madame, did you …
Beryl
- I am pleased that you have made your way here, Madame Tavernier. That door was left open just for you.
(Sitting Room, Parlor of Crystals)
Her teacup exudes the calming floral scents of Darjeeling, and with each bite of Madeleine cake, her remaining tension melts along with the buttery richness.
Adèle
- So I’m the first one here. I see.
- And you were at Madame Raymond’s salon the other day to retrieve your crystals?
Beryl
- Indeed I was. I have been occupied in business overseas and neglected the security of this parlor.
- Someone has been taking my defective crystals and pawning them off to other diviners.
- Few are able to detect their flaws. But, minute as they are, they render them hazardous for ritual use. I must act before any further harm is done.
She looks toward Adèle, her expression softer still, sweeter still, despite her words of caution.
Beryl
- For that, I owe you my thanks, Madame Tavernier.
- You showed courage that day, in your words and actions.
Adèle
- Just Adèle will do. And there’s really no need to thank me.
- Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have interfered if the diviner hadn’t tried to make a fool of me.
Beryl
- Ah. Those words still bother you, do they not?
Adèle
- No, not at all. I don’t take things like that seriously, you know.
- After all, fate—it’s just a matter of belief, isn’t it?
Beryl
- You do not believe, yet you cannot seem to put it out of mind. Is that so?
Adèle
- Hah. Please, madame. You aren’t about to start with the prophecies like all the others, are you?
She raises her cup again and reclines against the chair.
Adèle
- Forgive me. It’s not that I think all diviners are liars. It’s just that it’s hard to believe that fate is shaped by any kind of higher power. It seems just as likely to me that most divinations are simply self-fulfilling prophecies.
- And whether they be from a higher power or a crystal ball, I won’t let prophecies dictate my life.
- If I have a fate—some road I’m destined to travel—then I will first go as far as I can down every other road until it’s the only option I have left.
- There’s still so much I want to do!
But the woman only laughs, not with mocking laughter but with something like genuine delight at her words.
Beryl
- Fate, dear, is a universal law—the cause and effect of all events. Just as the path of light through a crystal may be predicted to find its refraction, one road inevitably leads to another.
- While some believe our paths to be unpredictable, others see them as written from beginning to end.
- But there is little use in searching for “meaning” in such a thing as fate.
- My reading foresaw your coming today, and here you are. The light passes through the crystal and falls as it must, as it ever was to be.
Adèle
- You knew I’d come? Then, what about my friend?
Beryl
- I saw only you.
Adèle
- Damn! She didn’t even bother to come! What is she thinking?
Adèle mumbles in confusion, but Beryl has already moved along to the next question.
Beryl
- You came here only to find your friend?
Adèle
- I, well, yes, you could say that.
Beryl’s eyes track away, gazing out distant and unfocused, as if she wasn’t aware of the person in front of her at all.
Beryl
- There is something more—a question, not about the truth of fate, but of how you might act upon it.
- The curse in your family, or as some may call it, the path of the Tavernier.
- You wonder whether it is your time to walk it, do you not?
Adèle
- …!
Madame Raymond
- The call must be answered! Walk with the wise, but beware their words. Beware the gaping abyss of death.
- What lies below shall reflect what lies above—one shall ascend, but all must be paid.
- All must return! All must restore—
Adèle
- How come every diviner I meet these days seems to know about that curse?
- Is obscure jewel lore really so popular in this city?
Adèle says it like a joke. That’s how she always treats the subject.
Mockery felt better to her than fear.
Beryl only nods in reply.
Beryl
- Madame Raymond foresaw the future, but she peeked too far, and for that, paid dearly.
Adèle
- You mean …
She still doesn’t want to hear that kind of answer.
Adèle
- No, no, no. Please tell me you’re just teasing me.
- You’re saying that it wasn’t her fear of the Beasts of Gévaudan that killed her but what she saw in my future?
Beryl
- Please, Adèle. Allow me to finish.
Beryl shakes her head. Somehow just that gesture alone is enough to lift her heart.
—Only for her next words to put it right back into a vise grip.
Beryl
- The fate she saw was not entirely yours. There is a shadow which lingers on you.
- In a way, it is true. You are indeed cursed.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
??? :
- I saw doubt on Mademoiselle Brume’s face. As a diviner, you encounter that look more often than people think.
- Some have called me a schemer, a fraud, as the Vigiles Bureau did. Perhaps they are watching me even now, listening in to our very conversation.
- Some were frightened by what I could see but kept coming back to sate their own curiosity.
- Some showed nothing but disdain—not for me, but for the very idea of a predetermined future. I admired their courage.
- Brume was not any of these. She was a fourth kind—one who tries to ignore the prophecy but, in doing so, only finds herself carried further into its stream.
Listener :
- The Vigiles Bureau?
??? :
- Oops. Have I let it slip?
- Well, I suppose there is no use pretending now. There was a disagreement about my decision to take a certain handful of arcane objects without consulting their rightful owners.
- In the end, I paid all their penalties, among other not-so-charming consequences.
- Not that it has done anything to prevent them from hounding me at every turn. To them, it seems I am only a fear-mongering schemer who knows secrets best left unknown.
Listener :
- What kind am I, then?
??? :
- Hmm. An excellent question.
- Someone who walks between eras and through the “Storms,” what is your view on fate?
- Few people can imagine the nature of your position. No more than three, I would wager. And I wish I could say I was one of them.
??? :
- Alas, I am but a puppet dangling at the end of fate’s thread. My limited vision cages my imagination.
- Though I may still see a little more than most people, I cannot do as I was meant to.
Listener :
- Your hands are tied—is that what you’re saying?
??? :
- I have lived long enough to know better than to act against fate.
- Though, in fact, what I would have done differs very little from what I was meant to do.
- What do you think? Is it perhaps fate that determined my personality, or my personality determining my fate?
Beryl
- All things carry energy, and we are much more perceptive to it than we think.
- Now, I would ask that you concentrate on the subtle changes around you. You will sense it; you simply need to feel.
Adèle
- Yes, I’ll try.
Beryl
- Tell me, Adèle, which of these crystals draws you the most?
Adèle stares at the tray, rows of crystals lined up neatly, dazzling to the eye.
After a few steady breaths, she reaches toward the third crystal from the end of the second row.
Adèle
- Maybe this one.
A tea-brown crystal—mysterious, sacred, its smoke frozen within.
Beryl
- A smoky quartz from Brazil. Very good.
- This crystal turns negative energy positive. It is a peace-bringer—a banisher of the dangers that trouble one’s soul.
- Now, close your eyes.
Seven doubles, seven gates—seven in all reveal the Sephirot.
Beryl
- Keep your breath steady and look into the darkness—search for the light.
Adèle
- I see it. Only a soft glow. But it’s there.
Beryl
- Take it.
Adèle
- How? Do I make it come to me, or should I go towards it? I—
Her consciousness sinks, or folds inward.
Everything flows through her mind, pours back into her body, then bursts outward again.
Adèle
- …
???
- Adèle? Come on, wake up!
Adèle
- Mm …
???
- …
- Wake up! Good heavens, how do you live like this!
Adèle
- Huh?
She stands, holding her head. The figure before her reaches out and flicks her forehead in anger.
Félicienne
- “Huh?” “Good morning,” I think you meant to say. I’ve been looking all over for you, and here you are napping like a pampered cat!
- You certainly know how to enjoy yourself, don’t you? Abandoning me to take a doze in this cushy parlor.
Adèle
- Félicienne?! Where were you? I was waiting in the street for hours! You never turned up, so I had to—
- Where’s Madame Bouanich? Beryl … She …
Words tumble on her tongue but refuse to form a sentence.
Félicienne
- Still dreaming? Look around you. The parlor’s already closed.
Adèle scans the room. They’re the only ones there.
Félicienne
- You’d likely have woken up behind bars for trespassing if I hadn’t come to collect you.
- What a shame! This place seems more tedious than I thought. Come on, get up. We still have time to look elsewhere.
Adèle
- Oh. Of course. I’ll fetch the car. It’s by the back door.
Félicienne
- No, not the car. I’d rather not get into that deathtrap for a while.
Félicienne walks straight through the corridor, pushes open the main door, and takes Adèle back into the street.
The night is pitch black and silent. The wide square and ever-lively riverbank are strangely deserted.
Adèle
- The street’s totally empty. Where is everyone? Is there a curfew that I didn’t know of?
- The street lamps are off. Huh, I don’t even see lights on in any windows.
Félicienne
- What is wrong with you? Heaven’s sake, it’s a good thing I didn’t let you behind the wheel.
- Look. Is that not a light right over there?
A bright café glows amid the empty darkness. Clusters of flowers hang around its name so thick they almost swallow the sign.
Adèle
- Is that Café de Flore?
- Do they really stay open so late? Hmm. I suppose I’ve never checked.
Félicienne
- I’m starving. Go see if they have any food. I’ll wait outside.
She nudges Adèle forward. The glass door swings open, and bright light spills out into the street.
(Café de Flore, Paris)
Even this late, the café is near to bursting with life.
Adèle walks toward the counter, wondering who these patrons might be—some left-bank art group, or theater folk fresh from rehearsal …
Customer?
- As I was saying, Georges Bataille is looking for executioners for his secret society.
- Executioners—that’s right! Every one of the members would rather be sacrificed in the ritual than be the one to swing the axe.
- Ha! Who would have thought? The norm breakers can’t even bring themselves to commit violence. Is it a mercy or just selfish martyrdom?
- Did you see the last performance at the Théâtre du Grand-Guignol? Jack Jouvin has been the worst director I’ve ever seen.
- He ruined all the gory scenes with his so-called theatrics. What a self-absorbed man! It’s hardly a theater anymore—more like a circus.
- I wanted to gasp at the sight of shattered bones and slit throats, not from sheer disappointment! Honestly, I miss dear Paula Maxa. Every death she brought to the stage was impeccable.
- Miss, I must confess I’m confused. You’re saying that something will just pop into existence if everyone believes it exists?
- In a manner of speaking, yes. According to the studies we’ve been conducting, the answer may be hidden in our collective imagination.
Adèle
- Célia!
The name cuts through the air like a blade, slicing the animated canvas around them apart.
Every sound in the hall vanishes, leaving only the scrape of her heels retreating against the floor.
All the customers turn toward her in unison, motionless, eyes locked on the intruder.
Célia
- Adèle? What a surprise! I thought you had no interest in my studies.
Her friend slinks over to her. Adèle holds a dumbfounded stare, completely unsure of what she’s seeing.
Adèle
- …
She fixes on the darkness writhing behind Célia’s back. The outlines of the customers melt away, replaced by fangs and … fur.
Célia
- You look pale. Come, sit with us, and have a bite to eat. It won’t take long.
- Ah!
Adèle grabs her friend’s wrist, yanking her close as they sprint for the glass door behind them.
Adèle
- We need to go, Célia!
Célia
- You’re hurting me. What’s going on? Adèle? Ah!
She glances back.
Their faces are no longer recognizable. Mounds of dark flesh melt into a filthy, oozing slurry that drips into the surrounding dark.
What’s left of their human parts peels away, and a ghostly fire drifts upward around them.
???
- *roar*
(Battle)
*bang*
Adèle
- Damn it, the car—it’s still in the alley! Célia, stay close!
- Félicienne! Run!
When she bursts through the door, the streets are empty. Adèle finds herself actually hoping that Félicienne stuck to her stubborn ways and she’s already long gone.
Beast of Gévaudan
- …!
Adèle
- Go on ahead, Célia.
She tries to turn, intending to buy Célia a few more seconds to escape, but the roar of an engine drowns out even the beast’s howl.
Driver
- Get in!
Adèle
- You! Wait, shouldn’t you be in the hospital?
- Ah, you can explain later. Célia, get in the car!
She yanks the car door open, shoves the dazed Célia inside, then jumps into the back seat.
Adèle
- Go! Go! Hit the gas!
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Adèle
- Are you alright?
Her friend nods, catching her breath. But Adèle cannot help but notice how pale she is—far too pale—beneath the yellowy glow of the street lamps.
Adèle
- Good. I knew you were tougher than that.
Adèle exhales, leaning toward the window to see the shadows fade behind them into the night.
Adèle
- Hah. Even with twice the legs, they still couldn’t outrun us.
- Er, Mr. Vincent, yes? We bumped into each other yesterday, remember?
- I appreciate the help. You came just in time! But shouldn’t you still be in a hospital bed?
Vincent
- There is no “impossible” in French. I was back on my feet in no time!
The driver lets out two short, rough laughs and slams on the accelerator again.
Adèle
- Bravo, sir. Glad to see you’re doing well.
Célia
- Adèle …
Her friend pats Adèle’s shoulder, but she doesn’t notice.
Adèle
- Did you notice anyone waiting outside the café earlier, Vincent?
Vincent
- No.
Célia
- Adèle, please. Something feels wrong.
Adèle squeezes her hand, leaning forward, closer to the driver’s seat.
Adèle
- Those lipstick marks on your passenger window. Rude, wouldn’t you say?
- People really need to learn where to put their lipstick these days, huh? Funny that you got the same message, in the same spot, with the same smudges!
- But I wiped it off yesterday. And how did it get here? Where did you get this car?
- Or is this even real? Am I in a dream?
Célia
- You’re speaking nonsense, Adèle. How could this not be real? Have you been sleeping alright?
Adèle
- Enough, Cici! You’re just a part of this nightmare like everything else!
Célia’s eyes go wide. She’s looking weaker by the moment, like a candle burning out the last of its wick.
Célia
- Ah.
The car isn’t moving forward or backward now. It seems to simply hang suspended in darkness.
Her dragon climbs up the seatback and leaps onto Adèle’s shoulder.
Adèle
- By fire, what is false is purged.
Under the flame’s glare, the beast’s fangs rip through the man’s human shell.
“Vincent”
- …!
(Battle)
The beast that once was “Vincent” leaps out the window, his twisted form swallowed up by the abyssal night.
Adèle’s stomach twists. In the dark, she imagines fur, fangs—something larger, hungrier—draining blood from a fallen body.
It had waited, starving, until now.
Célia
- Adèle? Adèle! Adèle!
Adèle
- You—
Before she can react, her dragon’s tail coils around Célia’s arm. The flame flares for a heartbeat—no longer.
Adèle
- You’re really—
Célia seizes her hand.
Célia
- Listen to me, Adèle! I remember now. I know the truth about the Beasts of Gévaudan—
- Manus Vindictae cracked open the Archive of Imagery! That’s what’s been causing all the disappearances and madness! They’re trying to destroy Paris!
- Don’t trust Roseau, and don’t come looking for me! Take this.
Something cold drops into Adèle’s palm.
She looks down, instantly recognizing the diamond now hanging from the necklace.
A brilliance like that could never be matched. It was a legend, one that should be far beyond her reach.
Adèle
- What? Is this the French Blue?
- But surely this isn’t the real thing.
Yet everything she knows about her ancestral trade screams at her. It’s inarguable. This jewel is authentic. But it’s too sudden. Who would ever believe a treasure like that could just fall into their hands?
Célia
- Just take it! There’s so much more I want to say, but just remember this: the Archive of Imagery must stay closed!
Célia forces Adèle’s palm closed around it.
Célia
- Destroy the stone.
Adèle
- Célia!
Beryl
- —From darkness, light.
The heavy darkness in her mind lifts. Adèle looks around, her temples throbbing.
Adèle
- Ugh. Where am I?
Beryl
- Take a deep breath.
Soft couch, bright crystal lamp, gentle scent of incense, a diamond in her hand.
Everything exactly as it was before the cleansing ritual.
Even Beryl, sitting opposite, looks down at her from the very same pose she had been in before Adèle closed her eyes.
Adèle
- Was that … Was I dreaming?
Beryl
- Not quite. You plunged into the depths of your mind and uncovered the shadow lurking within.
Adèle
- I saw them—the Beasts of Gévaudan at the Café de Flore.
- So, did we cast the beasts out of my mind, then?
She freezes.
The diamond in her hand. It had been a smoky quartz, but now …
Adèle
- Damn, this isn’t the crystal I chose! This is the one Célia gave me in the dream.
- The French Blue …
- But how is this possible?
- Am I still asleep? Is this part of the dream too?
She hears her own voice trembling.
Instinctively, she looks toward Beryl—the only one left who might be able to help her.
But a glimmer of genuine confusion passes over Beryl’s face.
Beryl
- You must be confused. There was no other crystal.
- That gem was already in your hand when you came in.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Vigil Officer
- What did you know about Manus Vindictae at that time?
A stack of photos slides across the table toward Adèle.
Brume
- Only that it was some kind of secret society that believed arcanists are superior to ordinary humans.
Vigil Officer
- That’s just the surface. They’re responsible for so much more.
- Fueling conflicts, inciting wars, manipulating minds … If there’s an opportunity to bring chaos, they take it.
- Their power extends to all corners of the world in almost every time period, including yours.
- The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, Acéphale, and what remains of the Rosenkreuzer … Even Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud were associated with them, whether knowingly or not.
- And it looks like you got caught up with them, too. You must’ve encountered them in Paris.
A black mirror is set down on the desk. Its foggy surface reflecting her face in a blur.
Vigil Officer
- Ms. Tavernier, what you say next is critical. From this moment on, everything you say will be monitored by a lie detector.
- Do you consent?
Brume
- I do.
She studies the image of herself while absentmindedly touching the back of her hand.
Brume
- You seem confident I’ve encountered them, but I really have no clue how I would have any connection with them.
Vigil Officer
- Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.
- This is your drawing of the diamond necklace you saw in your dream, correct?
The photos vanish, replaced by a rough pencil sketch.
Brume
- Yes.
The fingertip points to the diamond pendant drawn on the paper.
Vigil Officer
- You identified it as the French Blue, correct?
Brume
- I did.
Adèle answers without hesitation.
Vigil Officer
- The French Blue—said to be the most beautiful blue diamond ever. It seems whoever it ends up with meets a horrific end.
- First, Louis XIV suffered defeats in his final years, his son was taken by smallpox, and France fell into financial ruin.
- Then Madame de Montespan, Nicolas Fouquet, Catherine the Great, George IV of England, and Thomas Hope … I’m sure you’re familiar, Ms. Tavernier.
- After all, if it weren’t for your ancestors, the diamond would never have come to France in the first place.
Brume
- That’s true. I grew up hearing all those stories.
Vigil Officer
- Then you must also know that it’s impossible for you to be in its possession.
Brume
- Of course, sir.
- The French Blue was recut more than a hundred years ago.
- The biggest piece became the Hope Diamond. I doubt it retains even half its former glamor.
- But believe me, at that moment, it was the only conclusion I could reach.
She faces the questioner from her side of the table. The mirror image holds still, untouched by any lie.
Brume
- That diamond in my hand could only be the French Blue.
The ticking of the clock rises up over the silence of the room.
Adèle
- Hmm …
Beryl
- You have spent three hours studying that diamond, Adèle.
The jewel expert still feels frozen in place, her head tilted, the diamond in her hand lying forlorn; she is more statue than woman.
Adèle
- It’s real.
Beryl
- Whatever do you mean?
Adèle
- No sign of forgery. Weighs around 60 … 70 … Hmm, let’s say 67 carats.
- And it matches the picture in my family’s archives.
- But how? Is the Hope Diamond a fake? Has the true French Blue always been in the hands of the Taverniers?
- It’s impossible. None of it makes any sense. None at all!
She firmly sets it down, her composure breaking as she questions the diviner.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich, what is the meaning of this? Are you playing tricks on me? Am I seeing illusions because of that cleansing ritual?
- If you insist I arrived with it, then I’m taking it back home!
Beryl
- Adèle, I run a crystal parlor. I neither sell nor possess any such diamonds.
- I am just as certain as you that I am not its owner.
Adèle
- This diamond—this French Blue—it doesn’t exist. It … It cannot exist!
Beryl
- And yet here it is before you. It has passed every test.
The discussion circles back to where it began. Faced with the proof before her, the jewel expert is left speechless.
Adèle
- I don’t understand. Célia gave this to me in my dream. How could it be here in reality? How does something from a dream become real?
Beryl
- Dreams often reveal truths greater than our senses allow us to see.
Beryl remains like an island in a storm, still and unmoving as if the matter were self-evident.
Beryl
- The material world is a result of contraction, shattering, and reconfiguration of pneuma on its descent through four primary spiritual worlds.
- Everything we see is a mere manifestation of its true form. If destroyed in this world, it will yet persist in the spiritual world.
- So long as the idea of it remains, it may return to the world of matter through an Emanation of pneuma.
- Perhaps this diamond in your hand is the idea of it manifested for a second time.
The diviner’s reasoning is flawless.
But her words only leave Adèle more lost.
Adèle
- But how? All I did was see it in a dream.
She clenches her fist, feeling the pricking of her nails, wondering if this too could be another dream, but all she feels is needless pain.
Adèle
- So, if this dream made the diamond real, why only it? Why not my friend, Célia? She was there too!
- Damn it all! It’s like I’m trapped in a dream where you just know something awful is about to happen!
She groans and taps her forehead, tangling herself in the logic.
In the end, a more tangible worry wins out.
Adèle
- All this is giving me a terrible feeling. I need to find Célia.
- The things she said in that dream … I have to speak to her before I do anything else.
She presses down on her dragon’s head before it can lunge at the diamond—a momentary respite from her growing concern.
Adèle
- Would she be at the campus now? Or still in the field? Maybe I should wait for her at her place?
She lets her eyes wander as she thinks, coming to a sudden realization that there’s an answer hanging right in front of her.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich, you couldn’t do a divination to tell me where Célia is now, could you? This diamond came from her, so you can trace it back to her, right?
Beryl
- I am afraid not. Though it may be a fine material for divination, it will not provide the vision you seek.
- If we are to find your friend, we require an item she has often used or something dear to her.
Adèle
- No problem! I just—I just need to pick something up from my place. Please, madame, would you wait here for me? I’ll be back in 30 minutes at most!
She bolts up from her seat and makes for the door. The diviner smooths her skirt and rises to follow.
Beryl
- I am sorry, Adèle, but I must close the parlor now.
Adèle
- Ah …
Her urgency scatters into the air, leaving her with an open mouth searching for the words to fill it.
Adèle
- Then I …
Beryl
- But I am willing to take a little detour on my way home, if I can be of help.
It takes Adèle a moment to process, then she beams, springing to her feet to hold the door open for the diviner. “An even better plan,” she reasons.
Adèle
- Thank you! I mean, sorry for taking up your evening. Ah, yes, how much do I owe you for the divination?
Beryl
- Think nothing of it. As I said, the door was opened just for you.
- Fate will see to the payment when the time is right.
Adèle
- Wait. So, fate is the one paying you? Not the client? So, what, you work for fate?
Beryl
- I work for fate?
The driver is startled to see her offhand remark actually made Beryl pause to think.
Beryl
- Hm. I have never heard anyone put it quite like that.
She offers a polite smile as she locks the parlor entrance behind her.
Beryl
- Let’s go. Let us see what your friend and my “employer” has in store for us.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Adèle
- Célia? It’s Adèle! Are you home? *sigh* I thought not.
Adèle turns to the next door, pulling a key from her pocket.
Adèle
- I-I live right across the hall. There must be something of hers in there.
(Apartment)
Her little apartment is festooned with almost as many ornaments as the Parlor of Crystals—just with less glitter.
Uncut stones, exhibition pamphlets, city maps, sewer maps, an assortment of repair tools …
Adèle
- Hmm. Come on, Cici. You must’ve left something here.
Among the stacks upon stacks of odds and ends, Beryl’s eyes land on a framed photograph.
Beryl
- Ah, this is her, is it not? The two of you seem very close.
In the black-and-white photo, the figures feel alive: one little girl gleeful, the other so nervous she’s nearly out of frame.
Adèle
- Almost like sisters, actually. My parents were always traveling, so her family often took care of me—making dinners, that sort of thing.
Adèle answers Beryl’s questions as she pulls open drawer after drawer.
Adèle
- Looks like the quiet type, doesn’t she? But she’s hugely ambitious underneath it all.
- She’s certainly set her sights higher than I ever have.
- Ah, come on now. When I don’t need them, they’re all over the place, but now … Aha! Will this do?
From the bottom drawer, she lifts out a stack of letters.
The stamps are from all over the world, though the envelopes themselves look the same, each bearing a single neat missive.
“To our daughter, Adèle Tavernier.”
Beryl picks one up for a closer look. The stamp’s edges curl slightly, yellowed, mismatched against the fresh white envelope.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich?
Adèle looks to her with urgency but finds a worrisome response on Beryl’s face, a knowing look, as if she can see right through her.
Beryl
- Letters … Yes. They will do nicely.
Beryl glances at the empty drawer by Adèle’s feet—the least conspicuous spot on a well-used desk.
Beryl
- It is little wonder Célia came to be like family to you, with your own so often away.
Adèle
- Right. Not that I mind really. They’ve hardly been around since I was little.
Beryl
- I see. Shall we begin? Let us find this chosen family of yours.
She begins leafing through the letters, treating it as part of some quiet routine.
Her eyes lose focus, but her hands keep moving, tracing every letter, searching for the invisible gleam between the lines.
Finally, the light returns to her gaze.
Beryl
- I see her … swallowed by the city … sinking beneath the ground.
- In a relic of the Great Plague … In the world below … Dancing with the dead.
Adèle
- Swallowed? Beneath the ground?
She frowns, first with concern and then curiosity, until she suddenly brightens.
Adèle
- Could it be the catacombs? Oh, of course! The Dance of Death she talked about. It’s there!
- She must’ve gone to see the mural! Ah, Célia, you never pick the easy places, do you?
- You had me worried, madame—the way you said it. It sounded almost like she’d passed on to the other side.
Now certain of her goal, she jolts up and heads for the apartment door, but Beryl raises her hand.
Beryl
- I see you there too, Adèle.
Adèle
- Hmm?
Beryl
- And the shadow of death follows close behind.
Adèle
- …
The words don’t feel like a warning. They’re a statement. The diviner looks on past the confines of her room as if seeing something far in the distance.
Yet Adèle cannot help but laugh.
Adèle
- Hah. It’s hardly the first time I’ve been warned about a shadow of death, is it? There’s no way I’m leaving Célia there by herself after what you’ve said.
- Your vision may be right, but still, I’ll make my own decision.
Beryl watches her from behind her calm, translucent eyes.
Eyes that never fix on the moment, always beyond, always.
Moments pass, and then she speaks.
Beryl
- I expected no less.
The two of them return to the street below. But as she walks, Adèle slows her steps toward the car, as if moving slower would stretch time itself. Though she may have some idea where her friend is, she’s only grown more confused.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich, if you’ll pardon my asking, can dreams be controlled?
Beryl
- Think first of matter as the lower form of spirit and spirit as the refined form of matter.
- When we dream, we tread in the spiritual world above, and thus, we may shape it, just as we do our material world.
Adèle
- Then is it possible for a diviner such as yourself to decide what I dream?
A question aimed at the heart of it.
Beryl tilts her head; the words aren’t sharp enough to pierce her.
Beryl
- I did not interfere with your dream, Adèle. But if your concerns are too great, you do not need to accept my readings.
Adèle
- No, I didn’t mean it like that.
- I’m still trying to make sense of all this—a dream turned into reality. And I’ve met two diviners in the past couple of days, and one of them is dead. I felt I had to ask …
Beryl
- I understand. I would feel much the same were I in your position.
Adèle
- Thank you. Uh, I should take you home, madame. I know a shortcut.
She opens the passenger door—a professional habit—only to realize the seat is occupied.
Adèle
- Félicienne?
Félicienne
- You’re just getting better and better, aren’t you? Leaving me waiting once again. What’s your excuse this time, hm?
Despite it all, Adèle feels genuine relief to see her once-missing employer.
Adèle
- I … Where have you been? There are strikes going on all over the place, Félicienne. You’ve got to stop sneaking off and roaming around by yourself!
- H-Hold on. Where did you get that necklace?
Félicienne
- Excuse me? Who are you to lecture me? You’re the one who left me alone in this car!
The refined woman picks up a macaron with gingerly grace, but she doesn’t take a bite, her lips preoccupied instead with launching her signature razor-sharp critiques.
Adèle
- That necklace! Célia gave it to me! How did you get it?
Adèle reaches into her pocket, but it’s empty.
Félicienne puts down the sweet and lifts the necklace at her chest.
Félicienne
- Célia gave it to you, did she? *scoff* Are you mad? This is a priceless national treasure, my dear, not a friendship bracelet.
- I say this to you for the last time, and I shall not repeat it again.
- This is mine and always has been mine, the finest of all treasures I collected on my many adventures.
- It’s a relic of a more beautiful era, shattered and distorted, along with the vision of the Baron family—my family.
- This jewel is mine, do you hear? Mine, mine, mine!
She clenches the diamond in her fist, staring daggers at Adèle. Though the look in her eyes doesn’t feel like rage.
She finds a pocket between disdain and malice, like finding a rat mid-feast in her pantry.
Adèle
- What are you talking about?
Beryl
- Is something wrong, Adèle?
Beryl steadies the staggering driver from behind.
Beryl
- You are still worrying about Félicienne, is that so?
Adèle
- Well, not anymore! Turns out she’s been waiting for me in the car! And Félicienne, what do you mean it’s yours?
- Félicienne?
Beryl follows Adèle’s pointing finger toward the passenger seat.
Her voice catches.
Beryl
- But, my dear.
- There is no one in your car.
- You have been arguing with an empty seat since you opened the door.
Adèle blanks, mind and tongue stammering at the colliding dissonance of what was and is.
Adèle
- How?
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
??? :
- And there she was, glowering at the empty passenger seat, yelling as if quite alarmed by someone inside.
- I believe she called her … Félicie? No … Félicienne.
- Yes. That was her name. Indeed, I once knew a Félicienne as well.
Listener :
- Do you believe it’s the same person?
??? :
- Well, it is far from a common name; that much is certain.
- But then such a coincidence would border on … theatrical, no?
- I should like to think that fate has more elegant ways of crossing my path with Brume’s. Though, of course, it is possible that fate favors the comedy of the absurd.
Listener :
- Isn’t this Félicienne rather important?
??? :
- Heh heh, you do know how to make me laugh.
- But Félicienne is no Napoleon. She never became a household name.
- Perhaps her demeanor and her air of self-assurance gave you that idea, but I advise you to look a little bit closer.
??? :
- That said, the Félicienne I knew would not take well to being mistaken for just any Félicienne.
- Before the Second Industrial Revolution, the blood in her veins was more prized than liquid gold.
Listener :
- She’s of noble birth, isn’t she?
??? :
- Indeed. Her family was once renowned for their command over thunder and lightning. Though their influence faded when humans learned to harness electricity for themselves.
- Even so, the fortune her ancestors gathered would keep the family running for another two centuries. More than enough for our Félicienne to live a truly opulent lifestyle.
Listener :
- She’s a powerful arcanist, isn’t she?
??? :
- The Barons were known as fighters, heroes, Priests and Priestesses of Lightning. That legacy was passed down through generations.
- Even a century after the last aluminum furnace bearing their name went cold, she still remembers the heat of fame, of success, of envy.
Listener :
- So she comes from a time before the “Storm.”
??? :
- Precisely. When she was born, the “Storm” had not yet begun.
- Not that it matters much, you see. In times like these, those born before the “Storm” often still cross paths with those of another era. Just like you and your friends, and myself and Brume.
Listener :
- She’s been reversed.
??? :
- Yes. The Félicienne I knew disappeared long ago.
- Absent a miracle, I doubt anyone will ever see her again.
Adèle forces a broken smile to her face.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich, as much as I appreciate your humor, now really isn’t the time for it. Where did she go?
- I’m quite used to her attitude, but stealing that necklace crosses a line!
Beryl
- Adèle.
The distance in her voice and manners disappears—the diviner becomes mortal. Her voice laced with genuine concern.
Beryl
- Félicienne was never here.
- Perhaps it fell out of your pocket. Allow me to aid you in its return. I believe it is best you not act alone in your current state.
Adèle
- Ah, I’ve got it now. She didn’t come to your parlor today, so she must’ve gone somewhere else, and she’s been waiting in the car ever since. No wonder she got angry and stormed off.
She fidgets with her sleeve button, desperate to escape this farce.
Adèle
- Ay ay ay, that’s enough! What a day! I think it’s better we speak again another time, Madame Bouanich. Would tomorrow work? I—
Beryl
- When did you first meet this Félicienne?
Adèle
- Oh, my goodness!
Beryl moves faster, forcing the car door closed.
Adèle
- Honestly, what on earth is happening today?
- You want proof? I’ll give you proof. Hah, madness! Never thought I’d have to actually convince someone that I work for that terrible woman.
She rummages impatiently through her pockets until she finds her wallet.
Adèle
- It was raining. She started complaining about the mud on her shoes the moment she stepped into the car, then insisted we head straight to the Champs-Élysées.
- You know, wealthy young ladies like her are always generous with payment. I often have to take time out of my evenings just to count all her tips. That very first day, she even gave me some gold francs as keepsakes. I’ve got them in here.
- …?!
Her face twists in disbelief as she flips it open and closes it again.
Not a single coin or bill.
Adèle
- Oh. Hah. I must’ve put them somewhere else.
- Give me a moment to check the car. I’ve got other proof, too!
- Ah. The macaron boxes. There’s a full one somewhere! And her hair, little bits and pieces she left in the car.
For a brief moment, she accepts the absurd conclusion.
Félicienne never existed.
Adèle
- I remember … that day …
Her every recollection of Félicienne takes on a strange blur, as if she were viewing them from behind a fogged-up windshield.
Adèle
- I … I must be tired. It’s been a long day. It’ll come to me soon.
Beryl strokes the back of her hand, gently urging her to let go of the empty wallet.
Beryl
- But there is nothing to remember.
Adèle
- …
- Something’s wrong with me. Prophecies, dreams, the necklace—it’s all playing havoc with my mind.
- I need to clear my head! Just bear with me. Those coins have to be in here somewhere.
Beryl
- Do not worry, Adèle. It is not only you who is confused in this era.
- Look at the people around you.
Adèle
- People?
Sound crashes back in. She rubs her temples, fighting the dizziness.
Protester I
- No more atrocities! No more oppression!
Protester II
- Liberty! Equality!
Protester III
- Stand with Paris! Stand with the people!
Protester IV
- For the commune! For France!
Beryl
- Excuse me, sir.
Beryl calls out to the nearest worker—a man waving a bright red Phrygian cap.
Beryl
- Where are you going?
Protester I
- We’re following the Garde Nationale to fight the royalists!
Protester II
- Yes, and then I’m going straight to the pawnbroker to get my mattress back!
Protester I
- You do that, sister! Brighter days lie just ahead if we fight as one for our city!
Beryl
- It is no easy feat. But your voices today may echo further than you know. You will triumph in time.
Protester I
- Thank you, madame! For the Commune de Paris!
The man turns and disappears into the crowd.
Adèle
- Well, everyone’s fighting to survive these days. Looks like another protest.
- But did he just say “Commune de Paris”?
Beryl
- He did. In their minds, this is the burning summer of 1871.
Those almost-transparent eyes again. People’s thoughts pass through her like light through crystal. Beryl reads them but never bends to them.
Beryl
- Unconscious thoughts, countless in number, are converging upon this city. This is a volatile time indeed.
- Some worry for their missing family and friends, some are terrified by ghosts and spirits, some obsess over a long-dead emperor, and others are shaken by the phantom attacks of a beast of legend.
- The edifice of reality is shaking. Chaos has been invited into its foundation.
- Whispered fears, murmured madnesses … A sickness is sweeping the city, and the Beasts of Gévaudan have multiplied.
She watches the flow of the moving crowd.
Beryl
- Those who invited this chaos did not comprehend that the flaws of reality are not the fault of a single person nor group of people. This is not the way to mend Paris.
- Everyone—everything—has an identity, whether it be individual or collective. To attempt to unify them all so recklessly will not create order, but chaos.
- Chaos is what turned those people into beasts.
Adèle
- You mean the sightings of the Beasts of Gévaudan were all people? That the citizens of Paris have been turning into monsters?
- Then are they the ones who killed Madame Raymond? Who cursed me, took Célia, and trapped all these protesters in this delusion?
- And Félicienne, too?
The things she describes are fairy tales, myths, urban legends meant to scare children. They aren’t real. They aren’t meant to be believed.
She grits her teeth, unable to reconcile her doubts with her experiences.
Adèle
- Truthfully, madame, I’m having a hard time believing you or even my own eyes.
- Everything turned completely mad the moment I entered your parlor.
- The Beasts of Gévaudan were nothing more than a rumor before I met you, but in your parlor—in that dream—there they were, attacking me!
- And now you claim that Félicienne isn’t real, that I just made her up! What are you trying to do here?
Beryl
- I play no part in your fate, Adèle. It is what brought you here. I am only a witness.
Adèle
- “Only a witness”! You’ve got a clever answer for everything, don’t you? Then tell me where the necklace is. You must’ve seen Félicienne take it, right?
- So? Did you “witness” that, madame?
Beryl
- You received that necklace in a dream.
- It is only natural that it would vanish into another.
Adèle
- …
Her reasoning is as solid as it is absurd.
Beryl
- That necklace proves the truth of my words. The spirit world is as real to us as the physical world.
- I will happily read Félicienne’s fate. That is, if you still believe she is real.
Adèle
- I don’t need you to read anything!
- I-I need space! To get away from all this madness and think for myself!
Beryl steps back from the car door, unconsciously giving way, allowing Adèle to lunge forward and seize the handle.
Beryl
- Adèle …
The ringing in her ears returns, and the street noise rushes in all at once.
But she’s made up her mind. If she can just get in, start the engine …
Beryl
- Adèle! Behind you!
Adèle
- Wha—
A damp, metallic breath brushes her neck.
Beast of Gévaudan
- …!
(Battle)
Beryl
- Stay close to me.
Adèle reacts instantly, pulling back with Beryl’s tug, raising her arm.
A burst of flame shoots from her fingertips. Her little dragon beats its wings, setting the beast ablaze before it can fade away.
Adèle
- Your hand! Did it get you?
- Bloody hell! This is no dream! How did they get here?
Shouts rise from the nearby crowd.
Adèle gasps, scanning the street. Seeing no second monster, she finally exhales.
Adèle
- Is that what you meant earlier?
The diviner nods faintly, blood running down her now-paler skin.
Adèle
- …
If they’d been a moment slower, Beryl’s arm wouldn’t be the only one bleeding. Adèle doesn’t believe she’s worth that kind of sacrifice.
Adèle
- Maybe you do have a point. At least about the Beasts of Gévaudan.
She opens the car door, searching inside with purpose, before handing Beryl a handkerchief.
Adèle
- Here, take this. It should help with the bleeding. *sigh* I can’t just leave you like this. You’ll have to come with me, madame.
- But I’m afraid I can’t take you home. I must find my friends before anything happens to them.
- I can’t just leave them wandering the city while these monsters prowl the streets.
Beryl
- Is that so?
She looks surprised but accepts the gesture.
Beryl
- I foresaw death in the catacombs, and yet still you aim to go there.
Adèle
- Of course.
- I’ve made up my mind. I need to find Célia. I don’t care what it costs.
Adèle pauses, her vision locked on Beryl’s bleeding arm.
Adèle
- I’m still not sure if I can trust you. But for now, at least, I don’t believe you want to do me any harm.
- But I need to know—why are you helping me?
- You didn’t even ask for payment. What do you want from me?
Beryl’s translucent eyes barely restrain a visible roll. It’s affectionate—almost motherly.
Her question is harmless, if utterly naive.
Beryl
- So this is what you choose to ask.
Adèle
- Why wouldn’t it be?
Beryl
- Of all there is to question—your future, this chaos—you choose to ask about me.
Adèle
- What’s so strange about that?
Her flawless, gentle smile returns, from matron back to diviner.
Beryl
- Nothing. Your curiosity is only natural.
- I have never once lied to you, Adèle. You are cursed—haunted by a shadow. A shadow of fate.
- I only wish to see what will become of you.
Adèle
- But don’t you already know? I’ll die in the catacombs. What else is there to see?
Beryl
- You know this yourself. Yet here we are.
- We have a common interest in that fate, you and I. Let us leave it at that.
- Go to the catacombs, Adèle, with me by your side. You will need my help once you enter.
Adèle
- …
It’s a long-delayed request to travel together.
Adèle can’t read much from Beryl’s expression, but there’s no time left.
After a brief thought, she opens the car door again.
Adèle
- Please, get in. Careful. Let me open the door.
Beryl
- Thank you.
The Peugeot 201 slips through the crowd, turning down a quiet street toward its destined end.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(The Catacombs)
Bricks and soil several stories high shut out the sunlight above. Footsteps making dull echoes through the underground passage.
Adèle
- This should be about where the restricted area begins.
- Though I doubt the police have the luxury of worrying about our trespassing.
The carvings inside the lampshade emit a steady faint light, bathing the tunnel in a soft glow.
Dust long settled on the rough stone floor rises into the air, as if the space were rushing up to meet its rare visitors.
Adèle
- I’ve always wanted to explore the catacombs; it’s almost eerie to think they’ve been lying beneath our feet for centuries.
- And it only got spookier once they started stuffing the dead away down here. A vast labyrinth lined with skeletons …
- But, despite the spookiness, I still feel it has a special charm—secret passages used by revolutionaries and soldiers, surviving in their own way against the march of progress.
Beryl
- The catacombs have a rich history indeed. Yet only a small portion of it remains open to the public.
- It is a place dear to the spirit of the city, yet one that is hidden away.
Her companion finishes the sentence Adèle hadn’t.
Adèle
- Oh, pardon. I’m treating you like one of my clients. I’m sure you don’t need a guide to tell you these things.
- Besides, we aren’t here for sightseeing.
- I need to find Célia and get her to safety as soon as possible.
They come to a confluence of paths. Adèle’s heart tugs as her purpose meets yet another frustration.
Adèle
- But these tunnels stretch out almost three hundred kilometers in all directions. We can’t go looking for a needle in a haystack.
- Madame, your divination revealed Célia’s whereabouts before. Could you perhaps try it again?
Beryl
- The fates of many commingle here. To trace her would be to catch a single stream from a flowing river.
- But it seems her stream is deeply entangled with your own. Perhaps, by observing yours, I may discern her presence.
- Your stream is quite unique. The familial curse you bear—it may be a gift in some strange way, setting you on a path unlike any other.
Adèle
- I’ve certainly never thought of it that way.
Though in saying that, she finds herself back in the Parlor of Crystals, weighing her attitude toward fate—her dismissal of it.
She shakes her head and sighs.
Adèle
- But you’re saying you can track her, aren’t you?
Beryl
- It will not show me where she is, but I will gain some sense of where she has been.
Adèle
- Awesome. Better than searching blindly.
Beryl nods, her crystal pendulum emitting a dim light.
Beryl
- To the left.
Adèle
- Okay, then we go left.
(Fork in the Road, Catacombs)
They turn another corner, and the next corridor ahead looks much the same as the last.
Adèle
- Wait! I should leave some sort of mark.
Adèle picks up a stone and scratches yet another arrow on the wall.
Adèle
- Umm, we’ve been walking for a while now, but we still haven’t found anything. Forgive me, madame, but are you sure your divination—
Beryl
- Shh.
- Look. The fruits of your search.
Following Beryl’s gaze, she catches a silhouette flicker at the far end.
Adèle
- …
She crouches, raising her hand slightly, ready to strike with her flames if needed.
Adèle watches guardedly as the figure steps into the light.
Professor Roseau
- Who’s there? Oh, a fellow explorer? What luck! You see, my headlamp’s gone out, and I’ve been separated from my students.
- I wonder if you might help me get to the surf—wait, you! Are you not that same young lady from yesterday?
- And you, Madame Beryl Bouanich?
- What on earth are you two doing here?
Adèle
- You know each other?
Adèle looks back at Beryl, but her suspicion washes up against her calm composure.
Beryl
- I have attended a number of Professor Roseau’s lectures. His ideas are most intriguing.
Beryl’s introduction is cut notably short. But it hints all the more at how wide her influence reaches.
But this man himself does not earn any trust for being an acquaintance’s acquaintance.
Adèle
- Was Célia with you, Professor? I’ve been looking for her.
- It’s serious. I tried calling the campus, but no one answered.
Professor Roseau
- Célia? She was supposed to join us today, yes, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen her. Most unlike her to do such a thing, but perhaps she had a change of plans.
Adèle studies the man’s bewildered face. A thought crosses her mind.
Adèle
- Forgive me.
Professor Roseau
- Huh?
Feufeu lunges for the professor’s wrist, sending fire crawling up his fingers.
The flames flicker, fading quickly, leaving only a trace of warmth. The fire accepts him.
Professor Roseau
- Ms. Tavernier! What are you doing?
Adèle
- No need to be alarmed; it’s just my arcane skill. It’s a relief to know you’re as real as you appear.
- But you have heard about the reappearance of the Beasts of Gévaudan, no? To say nothing of the Critters that surely nest down here …
- Monsters wearing human skin could be lurking nearby. We can’t be too cautious.
Professor Roseau
- I appreciate the warning.
He brushes away imaginary ashes from his sleeve and resumes the prior conversation.
Professor Roseau
- Knowing Célia, it may very well be that she lost track of time organizing her research materials. Are you quite certain she’s not at home?
Adèle
- That does sound like her. But I went to her place. No one was there.
Professor Roseau
- In all likelihood, she’s in some café with her nose buried in a book. But miss, why is it that you are so concerned with finding her?
- It’s as if you’re certain she’s in some kind of danger.
She cannot help but notice he’s moved one hand behind his back—a guarded stance.
Adèle
- She may well be. Madame Bouanich has had a premonition.
They go over a brief account of the prophecy, the nightmare, and the necklace that serves as proof.
When she finishes, the professor exhales softly, before bursting into laughter.
Professor Roseau
- Madame Bouanich, forgive my bluntness, but you’ve been indulging this young lady far too much.
- Scurrying about down here? What this young lady needs is a good rest.
Beryl
- It is her will that brought us here.
He turns to Adèle, pity mingling with paternalism in a single toxic facade, as if she had only been some babbling child pointing at a monster beneath her bed.
Professor Roseau
- Miss, I know you’re a dear friend of Célia’s and worried about her safety …
- But you mustn’t let yourself become paranoid, especially with all of this hysteria spreading through the city as of late.
Adèle
- Are you saying I’m making things up? That this is just some kind of mania?
- It isn’t! Absolutely not! How else could you explain the necklace!
Professor Roseau
- There may be many explanations—many indeed. Though I fear, in the worst case, that you’ve been under the spell of this mania for much longer than you realize.
- Think, miss. This necklace you were given in this dream of yours … Where did it go? Where is it now?
Adèle
- I-It was Félicienne. She—
Adèle hesitates mid-step.
Bringing up her vanishing employer would only make the situation worse.
Adèle
- I remember … I saw it …
She wrings her memory like a dry sponge.
At the end of the tomb’s darkness, she spies the same fur that had haunted her dream.
Adèle
- Watch out!
The furry shadow screams and darts away, its cry louder than her gasp.
(Battle)
Professor Roseau
- Please, miss, those were simply ordinary Critters, not mythological beasts. I’m afraid my verdict stands. What you need is rest, my dear.
The man shakes his head in regret, casting an apologetic glance toward Beryl.
Professor Roseau
- As much respect as I may hold for the art of divination—in fact, my own field of study overlaps with it quite a bit—
- Ultimately, divination is but a tool, and an auxiliary one at that.
- In this era, everyone is clamoring to find the true path out of their predicaments, but I have yet to hear of anyone who has found an ultimate answer.
- I believe that it is only when all of society is united that we will have any chance of success. Indeed, that is my team’s and Célia’s shared goal.
- There are, of course, those who claim to have found the secret to creating such a society. But they are nothing but imposters.
- Little do they know that the lies they spout are destined to backfire, causing suffering and disaster, as they too are devoured into the collective unconscious.
- We must make our own decisions. Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Tavernier?
Adèle
- I suppose you have a point.
His words seem to be, against all her desires to the contrary, painfully earnest, and the anger rising in her chest fades.
But the calm itself is revealing. She has never been this quick to anger before.
Adèle
- But I’m certain something is wrong. And that’s exactly why I’m here!
Adèle glances back to the narrow tomb passage, where she spots the shifting darkness once more.
It draws closer, sharper, until it solidifies into a familiar figure.
Adèle
- Célia?
- Don’t go!
Beryl
- Adèle?
The shadow flickers and vanishes. Without even relighting her lamp, Adèle runs after it.
Professor Roseau
- Wait, miss! Please don’t venture off alone!
The light behind her fades, and with it the shouting of the professor.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Adèle
- Célia, wait! Why are you running from me?
Chasing the blur, Adèle turns another corner and stops, startled.
Adèle
- A dead end?
Her relit lamp reveals nothing ahead of her but tightly packed bricks.
Adèle
- Where did she go?
Adèle! Why are you with them?
(Dead End, Catacombs)
Two hands grab Adèle’s shoulders and wrench her around—face-to-face with her lost and very anxious friend.
Adèle
- Célia? How did you …? I-I just saw you over there.
- Never mind. Are you alright? What happened to you? I’ve been worried sick.
The grip tightens, concern turning into panic mid-sentence.
Célia
- Answer me! Why are you with them?
Adèle
- Them? Who do you mean?
Célia
- Manus Vindictae!
A name heard only in dreams bursts out through clenched teeth.
Célia
- The professor deceived us all. He’s been a member of Manus Vindictae this entire time. He never wanted to help anyone!
- We can’t let him open the gate! We can’t let him unleash the Imagerial Paris!
Adèle
- Wait-wait-wait! Hold on a minute, Célia.
- Manus Vindictae, an imaginary Paris … Please, I don’t understand.
Adèle grasps her friend’s trembling hands, holding tight until the shaking subsides.
Célia
- Do you remember Vincent?
Adèle
- The madman that rammed into my car?
- He turned into a Beast of Gévaudan in my dream. You were in it, too, Célia.
She looks to her friend, expecting yet more doubt.
Célia
- No, Adèle. It wasn’t a dream.
- Yesterday morning, I went to the hospital to check in on him.
Adèle
- That would be around the time I visited Madame Bouanich’s parlor.
Célia nods. She’s put on a calm face, but the slightest quiver in her lips shows through.
Célia
- But when I arrived, I was told that he’d been taken to his hometown by his family. I truly didn’t think much of it at the time, although I was remiss to have lost my chance to say goodbye.
- But on my way back, I saw him again. He was getting into a car, one that I recognized right away—Professor Roseau’s.
She takes a deep breath, her breath holding back both shock and fury.
Célia
- It was altogether too strange. I couldn’t just let it go. So, I hailed a car and tailed them. They parked in a hidden spot and entered the catacombs together.
- They kept going deeper, and I followed. I don’t know how long we walked. It felt like we were descending into hell itself.
- Then I saw the room.
Professor Roseau
- You should feel honored, Vincent. Few have ever had the privilege to stand in this place.
He throws a dismissive glance over his shoulder, striding deeper toward the room at the corridor’s end, a dazed young man trailing behind.
Moments later, the hidden young woman peeks around the corner.
Célia
- Where are we?
The strange light spilling from the entrance stings her eyes, unnervingly bright.
Célia
- …
She steadies herself and edges closer to where the two figures vanished.
The center of the room is dominated by a strange circular pit, its interior wall fitted with a ladder of unknown make.
Vincent
- A ladder? I thought we were already in the deepest part of the catacombs.
- N-Never mind my mumbling, Your Majesty. Only, could I ask—where does this ladder lead?
Professor Roseau
- As above, so below—don’t let appearances fool you.
Vincent
- Huh? You mean …?
Professor Roseau
- Yes, this is its entrance.
- The Archive of Imagery, the anima mundi, the shared dream, the sea of collective unconscious … It goes by many names, but I prefer to call it the Depths of Myth.
- And it exists in a more tangible form than you may think, my dear boy. In fact, it is right in front of you.
Vincent
- My God! This is beyond my wildest imagination.
Professor Roseau
- For now, it is but a small crack in the veil, nowhere near enough.
- We must open the gateway. If we wish to restore the glory that once shone on this land, we need a far more radiant light, like the brilliance of the Sun of Austerlitz.
He stares downward, his eyes reflecting the brilliant, flickering light below.
Professor Roseau
- As I told you, there is risk here. The maelstrom of imagery will devour any who dive into it, reshaping their body and soul into something else entirely.
- But I have faith in you, my boy. You remember what I taught you, don’t you?
Vincent
- O-Of course! I’m ready! It would be my greatest honor!
The young man doesn’t hesitate for even a moment. He descends the ladder, his movements deft and sure, as he vanishes into the deep.
Professor Roseau
- You must find the key—the French Blue—a pivotal discovery by one of our most venerable pioneers.
- Sadly, her existence dissolved into the Depths of Myth just as she had nearly claimed it. Still, her discovery has paved the way for our victory today.
- Together we will build a bridge between the material and spiritual realms, one that will guide us toward a more perfect world. Have you found it, Vincent?
Vincent?
- I have it! I have it!
The young man reappears, but where his hands should be, he instead grips the side with a pair of massive lupine talons.
Vincent?
- It’s bright, so blindingly bright, as bright as the Sun!
A twisted head follows, jaws glinting with vivid blue ichor dripping from its fangs.
An inhuman, monstrous face.
Professor Roseau
- Wonderful! That’s it, bring it to me! Bring it to me!
But in the next instant, the blue scatters into drifting light and fades away.
Professor Roseau
- …
The rapture on the man’s face freezes only to melt away to nothing.
Professor Roseau
- What a shame, dear boy. It seems you weren’t worthy after all.
The beast lets out a mournful cry. But the professor ignores it as he turns toward the entrance.
Professor Roseau
- Perhaps then, the final experiment must fall to you, Célia, my brightest student.
Célia
- …!!
(Battle)
Célia
- Professor Roseau … what have you done?!
Professor Roseau
- I had wanted this to be a surprise, Célia. Our research has entered a new phase.
Célia
- A new phase? All I saw was Vincent turning into a monster!
Professor Roseau
- Hush … no need to get so worked up. All he has done is assume the form his subconscious most desired. Isn’t that right, Vincent?
Vincent?
- *growl*
Célia
- This is madness …
Professor Roseau
- Please, Célia, let us resolve this misunderstanding civilly.
…
Professor Roseau
- Don’t you see—Vincent gained a body far superior to the one he’d had before. And let’s be honest, he wasn’t my most exceptional student.
- But you—you have the potential to be so much better. Through the Depths of Myth, you can be freed from this flawed mortal shell!
- Come, Célia. It’s time you took the step that will change the world.
Célia
- Stay away from me, you lunatic!
…
Professor Roseau
- What a pity, Célia. You had such promise.
- You truly are my finest pupil. Must I treat you as I did Vincent to make you see?
- This will be a tragic loss … for my academic legacy.
Célia
- Laurent Roseau is a madman.
Rage and sorrow twist her friend’s once studious, gentle face.
Célia
- I thought he genuinely wanted to make the world better through parapsychology. He’d gone much further than anyone else.
- But I was perhaps too foolish, too naive to realize that all his novel theories—all the inspiring dreams he shared with us—were lies, meant to ensnare us, to use us.
- All those rumors of monsters in the city, the madness in the streets, the disappearances—they were his handiwork. He and Manus Vindictae.
Adèle
- Professor Roseau? The Depths of Myth? Manus Vindictae?
Célia
- I saw him—Vincent. He became a Beast of Gévaudan. I saw it with my own eyes. Then he turned to me and …
Her voice breaks with emotion. Countless questions crowd forward, but in the end, they all yield to one.
Adèle
- But you’re safe now, Cici. That’s all that matters!
- We’ll figure things out later. For now, we need to get out of this accursed place.
Adèle holds Célia’s hands so tight her knuckles blanch. Whatever else, she’s certain of one thing: she won’t lose sight of her friend ever again.
So she steps forward, yet no footsteps follow.
Adèle
- Cici, what’s wrong? Let’s go, come on! We have to go!
Her friend doesn’t move with her; she stands motionless, expressionless, until her mask is broken by the hint of trailing light and faint concern written on her face.
Célia
- I’m so very glad, Adèle.
- I still truly seem myself through your eyes, right?
Adèle
- Ah, Cici, what do you mean? What else would you look like?
For an instant, she sees it through the veil of shadow. It’s no illusion.
Célia
- They captured me, Adèle, and threw me down the ladder.
- So many voices flooded my head—an endless number—until I couldn’t feel my own body anymore.
- They told me things—whispered about this Manus Vindictae. Huh, everything struck me so quickly, so chaotically, yet it felt so long, like an endless moment.
- But I found something in the current—a diamond—the key to all this.
- If that diamond falls into their hands, they’ll use it to unleash the Depths of Myth. And when that happens, all of Paris will be drowned in the maelstrom of imagery. And I’m afraid everyone will suffer just as Vincent and I have.
- I had to get the diamond away from them; I had to make sure they couldn’t use it.
- But I remembered what you told me, Adèle. That the real French Blue was recut long ago. Then, the diamond must be an imitation, something fabricated by Manus Vindictae, no?
- So a thought struck me: if it’s only a forgery, then your arcane skill can destroy it.
- I kept thinking about that over and over and told myself I had to reach you.
- Then, just like that, a car door appeared in front of me, one I truly could not forget. It was your passenger door.
She releases this long-held truth like a taut rubber band, immediately snapping the moments together.
Célia
- Maybe the Depths of Myth really does connect our dreams, blurring the line between what’s real and what’s imagined.
- At the very least, it led me to you.
Adèle
- So then, in that bizarre dream, it really was you?
Célia
- Yes, it was. The Depths of Myth—how it connects us—truly is amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t go any further. Too much has changed. I’ve changed.
- They won’t stop chasing their key. Roseau will do whatever it takes to retrieve it and inflict this suffering on all of Paris.
- Please, Adèle, tell me you destroyed the diamond as I asked. You did, didn’t you?
She clutches at her, desperate for an answer.
But Adèle is at a loss for words, unable to summon up an explanation without stammering.
Adèle
- I-I … It was all so strange and confusing …
- I was worried about you, and I thought the diamond might be the only clue as to where you were, so I …
- I didn’t destroy it; it should be with Félicienne now.
Célia
- …!
- Félicienne … That’s terrible! You can’t mean that Félicienne?
Adèle
- That’s right. I told you about her over dinner.
Célia
- No! This is terrible! I see now. They’re all …
- Listen to me, Adèle! Félicienne is an enemy! She’s with Manus Vindictae!
- You mustn’t trust her! She’s more dangerous than she—
- Uhh—ughhh …
Adèle
- Huh …?
Félicienne
- How rude. You really ought to reflect on your choice of friends, my darling.
- I’ve no patience for personal slander.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Adèle
- No. No! Célia!
She falls to her knees beside her friend’s body, the blood pooling around her, as a whisper slithers into her mind, growing louder and louder.
Adèle
- Ugh … My head … hurts …
Blood. A limp hand. The gem’s brilliant glow. A familiar voice, the cold sneers … Everything spirals into chaos.
The world spins, and darkness swallows everything.
Take a deep breath, Adèle.
Come. Take my hand.
Soft, muffled voices seep into her ears.
Time to wake up, dear.
When did the lights come on? After several slow blinks, she begins to make sense of the faces staring down at her.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich?
Beryl
- Feeling better?
- Take a breath; rest a moment. We are here with you now.
Adèle
- “We” …?
Seeing another figure beside them, Adèle instinctively leaps up to put Beryl behind her.
Adèle
- Stay away from him, Madame Bouanich! He’s the one behind all this!
Professor Roseau
- What?
Adèle
- Célia told me everything! She saw you turn Vincent into a monster!
Professor Roseau
- Oh, my dear girl. When we get you back to the surface, we must get you some immediate mental care.
- You’ve been pacing around in circles, talking to yourself, laughing, and crying for who knows what reason. And now, just as I thought Madame Bouanich had managed to calm you down, you start spouting this nonsen—
Adèle
- Enough with your lies! You can’t fool me!
- If you know what’s good for you, you’ll confess all your evil plots and come with me to the police.
- Wait. Isn’t that …?
She’s ready to strike, but something in her periphery catches her eye.
A small arrow mark carved into the stone beside her.
Adèle
- That mark. It’s the one I made earlier.
- It … It’s exactly how I made it.
- But I followed Célia; we went so far. How could I be back where I started?
Professor Roseau
- Aren’t you listening? All you’ve done is pace in circles and mutter to yourself! And now this rubbish about Célia.
- For pity’s sake, girl, look around! She’s not here! Ask Madame Bouanich if you must!
Adèle
- B-But I saw her with my own eyes. Félicienne stabbed her!
- It was real. It was true! She was dying in my arms. Her blood was on my face, my hands.
She holds out her hands, the very ones she used to lift the bloodied body of her dearest friend.
But there’s nothing there. No stains of red, nothing but old calluses.
Adèle
- How could this be?
- Th-This must be another one of his deceptions. You have to believe me!
She grabs Madame Bouanich desperately, as if she were the only thing keeping her afloat.
Adèle
- Can’t you use your divination to see the truth? Please, madame!
- You have to help Célia. She’s dying somewhere.
Her voice trails off.
Adèle realizes that Beryl’s answer isn’t what she wants to hear.
Beryl
- It seems this curse still shadows over you. What you saw were simply illusions.
- Rest assured. I will do what I can to help you through this.
Beryl reaches toward her, but Adèle steps back.
Adèle
- Illusions? So, even you think I …?
- But there’s no mistaking it! I saw Célia and Félicienne and the diamond!
- Félicienne has it. Célia told me it has to be destroyed, or else … or else …
The spinning returns, whispers swelling in her mind again, until she hears Beryl’s puzzled tone.
Beryl
- The diamond?
- You mean the one strung around your neck?
Adèle
- Huh?
Following Beryl’s gaze, Adèle lowers her head. There, on her chest, glimmers that same brilliant blue jewel.
Adèle
- I-Impossible. Félicienne took it from me.
- B-But how can it be here again?
- No! This is absurd!
Confusion and shock, under the weight of her fractured mind, ignite into searing rage.
Adèle
- Célia was right! This wicked imitation must be destroyed!
- It must be destroyed now! Come, Feufeu!
She calls to the little dragon on her shoulder, its little flame gathering to burst into a torrent—
A blaze capable of destroying that false stone.
Adèle
- Huh?
But the fire never comes.
Adèle
- What’s wrong, Feufeu? Destroy the diamond!
- Feufeu?
She feels the lack of weight before she sees it. Her beloved little companion has become the latest to disappear.
Adèle
- What’s going on?
But Feufeu is more than just a pet. It shares her mind and soul. It could never vanish like Célia did.
Her mind goes blank again, dizziness swelling in waves.
Adèle
- This is all too strange.
- Wh-What was I doing again?
Her head pounds. All sound vanishes except her own panicked breathing.
Adèle
- Ah, right, the diamond that Célia gave to me.
- What she said was real. I have to destroy it.
Resolve flickers to the surface, only to be dragged down by the tide of hesitation.
Adèle
- But this isn’t any ordinary diamond; it’s the miraculous French Blue.
- Do I really have the right to destroy a national treasure?
Inhale, exhale. Even that simple act stretches her mental state.
Adèle
- Who was it who asked me to destroy it anyway? Oh, it must’ve been Célia!
- But Célia … She gave the diamond to me! Ah! It’s mine!
At last, a sharp voice cuts through the noise clouding her head.
Her breathing steadies, the stabbing pain recedes.
Adèle
- …
She stops. A drowsy calm spreads through her. Every worry, every doubt slips away into a warm abyss.
Professor Roseau
- Please, miss. You seem to have been through a lot. You need some rest.
- Perhaps some fresh air might ease your symptoms. Come, I’ll lead the way back to the surface.
- My colleagues and I have a reservation at a restaurant nearby; please, join us for dinner.
A firm hand falls on her shoulder, and at last she finds herself unable to resist it.
Adèle
- I think you’re right, Professor.
- I need some fresh air.
Adèle hears herself agreeing softly—meekly. The necklace, heavy with its vivid blue diamond, hangs against her skin—tangible, real.
As if it had always been there.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
A fine restaurant that requires reservations may not be an ideal spot for dinner after an adventure.
The atmosphere brooks no laughter, no clinking glasses—just conversation restrained under the weight of etiquette.
The room hums with quiet small talk pierced by the faint scraping of silver over porcelain.
Adèle
- …
Beryl
- You cannot cut steak with a necklace in your hand, Adèle. Why not put it down? Just for a while.
Adèle
- No. Thank you, madame, but I can’t afford to lose it again.
She saws through her steak mechanically, arrhythmically, lost in undercooked thought.
The sawing becomes like a chore; she pushes through muscle and sinew until she’s all but sawing the plate in half.
Adèle
- Damn! This is practically a tire, not a steak!
Beryl
- Allow me.
Adèle
- No. Thank you.
During idle conversation, a diner from the next table steps forward.
Pensive Young Man
- Oh, Madame Bouanich. It’s been a long time. I’m glad to see that you’re still in Paris.
Beryl
- And you? Still in search of your lost fate?
Pensive Young Man
- I … I’m not sure anymore.
- What you said may have been right: fate is a kind of erratic stream—to search for meaning in it or impose meaning upon it is pointless.
- Even so, some part of me still longs to try. Perhaps it will one day be in reach.
- But I wouldn’t want us to dwell on my insignificant problems. I understand that Professor Roseau has made some interesting breakthroughs in the resurrection of the dead.
- Though first, perhaps you’d introduce the lady here?
Beryl
- She is the one I spoke of before, the girl who stands at the confluence of streams.
- Adèle, this is a regular of mine. We call him Hummingbird.
Adèle
- A pleasure, I’m sure.
Hummingbird
- Ah, yes, I see what she means.
- You look a little pensive, miss. I wonder have you found yourself seeing otherworldly figures and hearing elusive voices? Are you still yourself?
Adèle
- What are you talking about?
The young man notices Adèle’s behavior. A moment later, he returns with new dishes—a bowl of mashed potatoes and a plate of macarons.
Hummingbird
- I’d say you’d prefer these over steak.
She sets down her knife, wavering between the two plates before finally taking the macarons.
Adèle
- They’re passable.
- Though nowhere near as good as Ladurée, I must say.
Her words weren’t meant as praise, yet she can’t help but return to the plate for another.
Hummingbird
- The professor is about to give his speech. If you don’t mind, Madame Bouanich, might we continue our chat later?
He returns to his table. Guests around him greet him cordially, giving the whole event a sense of ritual familiarity.
Adèle
- What on earth is Roseau up to?
Beryl
- He has an announcement to make, one that defines his life’s work.
- Ah. It seems he’s made himself presentable for the occasion.
Professor Roseau
- Greetings, dear brethren. We gather here today to celebrate a momentous discovery.
- One that belongs to arcanists alone. A breakthrough that lies far beyond the reach of human comprehension.
Old Woman
- Enough with the self-aggrandizing. Get to the point.
- I didn’t come all this way to watch you pump yourself full of hot air.
Professor Roseau
- There’s no need to rush, is there, Animus? We have all the time we need.
- Since the year 1999, our search for the promised land has never ceased.
- Following the will of the Guiding One, we have unraveled countless mysteries of the “Storm.” For this great cause, many of our noble comrades paid the greatest sacrifice, their souls sowing the seeds of our coming harvest.
- Our endeavor was never expected to be easy, but, tell me, has it ever crossed your minds whether the “Storm” is the sole path to the promised land we have collectively sought to bring about?
- Further still, do all of us here, myself included, share in the same vision of that world? We are nothing like the Foundation’s numb, obedient lapdogs incapable of independent thought, wouldn’t you agree?
- The “Storm” promises only a change to our imperfect, superficial world. Yet I believe a transcendent world may be drawn up from the Depths of Myth—a world where each and every dream becomes reality. Tell me, which would you prefer?
Animus
- Same old song and dance.
- Perhaps you’d care to show something new and actually feasible, for once? Otherwise, you’ll get naught from me.
Professor Roseau
- My dear Animus. Worry not, for I have come well-prepared to open your eyes.
- I have discovered a means to access the Depths of Myth, and, through it, achieved a miracle—the miracle of resurrection! Allow me to demonstrate.
The professor walks toward a corner of the banquet hall, holding rapt attention from the gathered diners.
Her right hand, presently reaching for another macaron, stops mid-motion, deftly, automatically, switching to pick up a napkin instead.
Professor Roseau
- When one’s flesh and spirit are fully immersed in the Depths of Myth, their body frays and sinks until, eventually, it disintegrates.
- Yet the spirit remains intact. For in that realm, the spirit is itself the most authentic and pristine substance.
- Reality as we know it is nothing more than a crude layer of degraded substance laid over the Depths of Myth. And so long as one’s consciousness remains within its maelstrom, that person may be raised from it again!
- Our Félicienne here is the very proof that the mind alone may be brought back to physical reality! Though she perished, she now sits before us once more.
- So, one and all, let us raise a toast to her revival!
Adèle
- Roseau? What in heaven’s name are you trying to say?
She sets down her napkin and rises from her seat.
Professor Roseau
- Ah, Félicienne, you’ve fully rejoined us now, haven’t you? Won’t you please introduce yourself?
Adèle
- What do you expect me to say? You know very well who I am.
The diviner’s eyes follow her, though the focus of her vision lies far beyond this hall.
Beryl
- How are you feeling?
Adèle
- I would feel a great deal better without your patronizing tone, madame. I have neither need nor want of your sympathy.
- Ahem.
She lifts a glass of red wine to her chest.
“Félicienne”
- And here, before you now is Félicienne, Priestess of Lightning, advisor to the Sun King, vassal of the Guiding One.
- Attend to my words: I have conquered fate and overcome death itself to stand here!
- I arose from the Depths of Myth by my own power, unlike the poor, unworthy fools Roseau sent in.
- Yet he dares to claim this miraculous deed for his own. What a disgrace, sir. Have you no shame?
- But of course, you don’t. All of you nonentities lack in both gratitude and shame. Basking in the grace of the Guiding One and myself, without even realizing it.
- Did you think you had even scratched the surface of the power that dwells here? Roseau—you utter fool, this affront of yours ought to cost you your life.
- Yet, I am not so base as to destroy what may still have use. So, just this once, I will forgive you.
- As for the rest of you, my forgiveness likewise extends to the rudeness you all showed in stuffing your faces before toasting to my health.
- Now, to my health!
Hummingbird
- This is a miracle!
- Bringing the dead back to life—it isn’t really possible, is it?
Giant Puppet
- She came back to life? So we can’t die anymore, like what the Guiding One said?
Animus
- Pah. What a farce.
- All you’ve done is manipulated some girl into believing she’s Félicienne, and yet you dare to call it a “miraculous resurrection.”
- What utter blasphemy! An offense to the word “miracle” and to the Guiding One Herself!
Petite Girl
- I heard another voice in Félicienne, one that belongs to someone else. Could that mean …?
Distant Lady
- Why do we speak as if she is not present? Let us bring our concerns to her.
- There are things only the true Félicienne would know.
Crab-Faced Man
- Mind alone returning to reality? But has Félicienne lost her arcane skills in the process? If so, then this revival is meaningless.
Hummingbird
- Whatever the case may be, if this is a true venue of life eternal, should we not seize it? At least until we find an alchemist capable of concocting the Fountain of Youth.
- I believe I see one drawback already. Only one who dies in the Depths of Myth may be returned from it. To die elsewhere would be to lose the original image of one’s being.
- I imagine this is our shared goal then—to unleash the Depths of Myth upon the material world so that we might render a collective image of all who dwell in this era to be raised anew.
A demure and polite voice in the corner interrupts their debate.
Portrait of a Woman
- But ought we not to first celebrate Félicienne’s return?
- Though, I must say it is a strange sort of return. How different she looks, doesn’t she?
Crab-Faced Man
- True. This dowdy girl is a poor vessel for one so noble.
“Félicienne”
- Mind your tongues. You’re speaking of my new body here.
- For all her faults, I would not call the girl “dowdy.” She simply chose to turn a blind eye to beauty. I’ve always felt she picked the wrong career.
- I admit it did her some good. She learned to read people and how to put them at ease.
- But it pulled her further from her true heritage and from the refined taste expected of a jewel hunter.
Portrait of a Woman
- So, Félicienne, your right hand—is it alright?
“Félicienne”
- Whatever do you mean?
Portrait of a Woman
- Do you not feel it trembling? Damn! Is something wrong?!
Her right hand moves on its own, splashing the wine across her face before she can stop it.
“Félicienne”
- Uggh! Adèle, you insolent …!
(Battle)
Félicienne
- Must you crash the party in such a barbaric fashion, Adèle?
Adèle
- What happened to my body? What did you do to me?!
Félicienne
- Enough questions. This body is mine now.
- It comes with some amusingly useless arcane skills, but I suppose I could do worse.
- From this day forward, this body will serve only my noble soul. You ought to feel honored.
Adèle
- Get out of my body!
…
Crab-Faced Man
- This was a shameful display, Laurence Roseau.
Professor Roseau
- The outcome was far from unexpected. Taira, now lower that weapon. I’m still observing this fascinating turn of events.
Hummingbird
- Señor Roseau’s research wasn’t all roses either … Hmm, where did Animus go?
Distant Lady
- She left in a great huff, something about “blasphemy.”
- Apparently, she had no patience left for “this farce.”
Adèle
- *deep breath*
It’s like being shocked awake by cold water. Her eyes freeze open as she scans the room.
Around her sits a gawking zoo of monsters and aberrations, and she’s the exhibit.
Adèle
- You …
- You’re Manus Vindictae! Why did you bring me here? What are you doing to me?
Realization hits. Panic tightens in her chest; she clutches the diamond in her hand. Trickles of blood and wine seep through her fingers.
Adèle
- Stop! I will not accept any damage to my body, Ustrina! Nor from you, Lyra!
- One move and I’ll burn you to a crisp, inside and out!
Portrait of a Woman
- What’s happened, Félicienne? It is only us. We’re still here at the banquet thrown in your honor.
Adèle
- Stop your prattling, you rubbish dump! Another word and I’ll rip that canvas to shreds!
Portrait of a Woman
- *sniff*
Giant Puppet
- She’s so angry. That means she has to really be Félicienne.
Adèle
- Words of wisdom from a puppet of all things. Need I point out who pulls your strings, Hypothetik?
- You cowards, ganging up on a poor innocent woman! Each and every one of you is a monster! I won’t play whatever game you have in store for me!
- Get out of my way!
Professor Roseau
- Fascinating. Though Félicienne’s spirit has seized control of her body, the former spirit seems able to resist.
- If I am indeed correct, what we are seeing is their thoughts and memories beginning to blend, causing this confusion.
The professor scribbles down notes in a rapturous flurry, recording every little tic, word, and movement.
Adèle
- Laurent Roseau, you’ve been in league with Manus Vindictae all along! You were lying to me! Everything Célia said was true!
Adèle attempts a show of defiance, but all she receives in return are curious, observant stares.
Beryl
- My dear, no one here has mentioned Manus Vindictae but you.
- Yet you seem to know a great deal about those present already.
- Far too much to be a mere guess. You have met these people before.
Adèle
- I won’t let you play with my mind again, Beryl. Célia told me all about these thugs. She told me everything!
Then it dawns on her. A flaw in her own reasoning.
Adèle
- Maybe not exactly everything. But she did tell me that it was Manus Vindictae that killed her!
- Roseau! Félicienne! You killed her! You-You murderous Manus scum!
Beryl
- I believe it is time you faced the truth.
Adèle
- The “truth”? What is it this time? You think I don’t see through you?
Beryl
- You killed Célia.
- In that place where the Archive of Imagery overlapped with reality, you killed her by your own hand.
Adèle
- Wh-What?
Beryl
- You remember it, do you not? You allowed it to happen.
She searches for any sort of proof she might have to match her claims.
She should never have listened to these lunatics. Maybe she should’ve just torn them apart with her bare hands.
Start with that woman. Tear open a path, get back to the car, drive off, and then …
The banquet ends in chaos, though the guests hardly seem to take notice or seem to even care. A small band of waiters arrives to begin clearing the scene.
The professor steps over the shards of glass and porcelain to where Beryl sits.
Professor Roseau
- Félicienne has quite the flair for the dramatics, doesn’t she? And as always, our audience simply sat back, their eyes glued and mouths agape.
- We are indeed fortunate for your skill in divination.
- We will have to wait for Félicienne to return to her senses, but thereafter we follow the plan as discussed:
- Using the French Blue as our focal point, we will draw up the true, perfect Paris from the Depths of Myth.
- Democratic, independent, chosen by her people, and shaped by the dreams of every one of her citizens.
Beryl
- I have seen many versions of Paris, from flames to paradise. Nothing is beyond possibility.
Beryl offers a vague, distant reply; she looks out toward the open doors but says nothing more.
The professor holds his stare on the pendulum in Beryl’s hand, guessing she’s once again trapped in a trance, and leaves her be.
Prophecy is something to be revered and feared.
Professor Roseau
- So, tomorrow at dawn, we will perform the final ritual atop the Eiffel Tower.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Protester I
- Liberty, equality, fraternity! Deliver what was promised!
Protester II
- Hear our voice! Respect our demands!
Protester III
- Eight-hour workdays! Better wages! Paid vacations!
Protester IV
- No more hunger!
Protester I
- We will not let the Bastille frighten us! Let the king and queen answer! Give power to the people!
Beast of Gévaudan
- *roar*
Protester II
- Drive them out of Versailles! Bring them here to Paris!
Protester III
- Liberty or death! Ah!
The beast’s roar mingles with the chaotic chants. Screams of death and horrific brutality echo through the streets.
But as long as one person still stands, this grotesque carnival of protest will not end.
Protester IV
- Liberty or death!
Hysteria has spread across Paris, twisting the city of lights into a bedlam—into utter chaos.
Three people pass through the turmoil, unbothered by the screams around them.
You longed for youth, and I gave it freely, so you tied a diamond around my neck.
Honeyed words, your false embrace, bound me in a cage.
Professor Roseau
- What a surprise! The great Félicienne seems in better spirits now.
And all we once shared was sealed in silence.
Locked in a box, far below the earth.
Professor Roseau
- Though, I feel this isn’t the time or place for such a song, miss.
Félicienne stops fiddling with the diamond and casts a disdainful glance toward her increasingly insufferable toady.
“Félicienne”
- Tsk, Adèle would never interrupt me the way you did.
- What a shame she never heard this song.
- But you wish to speak business, yes? Then, let us talk.
- First, answer me this: why has there been near on no progress in passing on the Guiding One’s teachings, despite the many changes in era?
- You’ve elected to ignore your most sacred duty, throwing aside her benevolent instructions in favor of your pursuit of “knowledge.”
- Without my leadership to inspire you, this organization is about as useful as a chocolate teapot, it seems!
Professor Roseau
- Please, miss, all these problems will be solved once I unravel the deepest secrets of the Depths of Myth.
“Félicienne”
- Look at you still clinging to that old drivel. Did I not already expose your worthlessness? I’d have had you swept out by the servants in my day.
Professor Roseau
- But you’re living proof of my thesis! You came back from the Depths of Myth. How can you not believe?
“Félicienne”
- What I believe in is my ability to conquer death. I have no particular interest in your imaginary Paris.
- Nor your babbling nonsense about “ideals.”
Professor Roseau
- It is our shared goal to return the world to its most glorious era, isn’t it? We’ve found the means; I only ask that you trust me.
“Félicienne”
- Trust? You’d have me scale the Eiffel Tower of all things to use my diamond to unleash the Depths of Myth …
- While you stand at a safe distance and watch? That’s your brilliant plan?
Professor Roseau
- I admit we made a mistake, miss, but I’ve discovered the truth: the Depths of Myth don’t lie below, but above.
- Altitude represents ascension—a primordial image as old as civilization itself.
- That is why you must reach the peak of the city’s tallest structure. There, all of Paris—perhaps even the entire world—will transcend, if my theory proves correct.
“Félicienne”
- Theories, theories, theories … Ugh! What torture it is to listen to you.
- And what of you, madame? Why are you staring at me like that?
- Your gaze is nauseating. Stop it.
The silent woman’s eyes are vacant and neutral.
“Félicienne”
- Are you even listening to me?
Beryl
- I am.
Her reply comes faint, barely more than a whisper.
“Félicienne”
- Hmph.
The three weave past the protestors, heading toward the Champ de Mars.
Not a single passerby seems to take notice of the glow coming from Beryl’s pendulum.
The car is parked on a silent street.
Adèle
- I never really understood any of the songs she sang; that’s why I didn’t bother to say anything.
- But I could tell she had a beautiful voice—the kind any singer would envy.
In the driver’s seat, the young woman lowers her gaze to the ornate little box in her hands.
Adèle
- She has a real sweet tooth, particularly for macarons. I’ve seen her eat a whole box in one go.
- But not just any old macarons. Only Ladurée’s will do. I often had to plan our trips around the store on the Champs-Élysées.
- Lucky for me, Félicienne was a late riser, or else I’d have had to race all the way from the bakery to her place every morning.
A weak smile tugs at her lips.
Adèle
- But what she was eating … they weren’t macarons, were they?
Inside, the once neatly arranged pastries have taken on another shape.
The little dragon lies within the box, its eyes closed.
Carved and cut into bite-sized pieces, filling oozes out from its little form, releasing a sweet, alluring scent.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich, please, tell me. What did she do to me?
Adèle gathers her dragon’s fragments into her pocket. Her voice trembling beneath her confusion.
Beryl
- She stole your fate.
- Her original self perished long ago within the Depths of Myth. The spirit that found you was only a remnant, a mere shadow clinging to a world in which she no longer belonged.
- She longs to live again, even if it is only as a parasite.
Adèle
- What about those memories we shared? Were they all just illusions?
Beryl
- Some were true experiences you shared as your streams of fate merged; others were but fabrications.
- The nuance can be difficult to discern without careful observation.
Adèle stays silent for a long while before reaching for the handle again. The door doesn’t move. She’s been trying in vain for quite some time.
Adèle
- You’ve really confused me, madame. What side are you on?
Beryl
- I am a watcher of the streams of fate, not a participator in them. I take no sides.
Adèle
- But you can do more than watch! You already have! You were the one that told me about this inevitable death, and then, Célia really did end up dead!
- You know exactly what’s going to happen to me. You know everything, don’t you?
Her voice catches. Outside, the lights of Paris flicker erratically.
Beryl
- It is not nearly as simple as you might imagine, Adèle.
- To observe a stream is to see only its curves and eddies—the ripples of importance. I see the path, but not every moment along it.
- That is itself sufficient for me to ascertain one’s eventual fate. There are rarely any exceptions.
Adèle
- You said “rarely,” so there are exceptions?
Beryl
- An exception, yes. I told you about her, did I not?
- I had been drifting along the streams of fate,
- when I saw a girl who resembled me—who in some part came from me. It was quite a revelation.
- I saw where our streams merged long before she was born, and I knew I would name her Matilda—
- That she would grow up to be kind, brave, and truly gifted.
- I followed her through every turn and every ripple to the very end. Then, I looked away. I stopped watching.
The diviner ends the story in her always even tone.
Adèle
- The way you describe it … It sounds strange, madame. A-Almost cruel.
- As if you’ve ignored her in the present because you’re afraid of her future.
Beryl
- I studied the entirety of her stream. Every moment of her fate. It seemed enough.
The car window reflects the puzzled look on her face.
Beryl
- But then something peculiar happened.
- In the final moments of this millennium, there was a certain kind of rain. Since that time, the streams of fate have lost their clarity.
- At times they are muddied, at others interrupted—twisted into vortexes.
- As they began to shift, so too did everything else.
- The fates I had seen had taken a new form. Nothing was the same.
She turns toward Adèle.
Beryl
- Soon, Félicienne will complete Roseau’s ritual.
- Once that happens, your spirit will rest forever here in this car, and a calamity will fall upon Paris.
- All the “visions” I saw end here.
Adèle
- You’re implying something, aren’t you?
- Are you saying that my fate isn’t set in stone?
Beryl
- I am simply stating what I saw.
- Many who learn of their fates become passive to them, hoping that by inaction, they might avoid their consequences. Others are driven to attempt, however vainly, to change it. How you interpret this prophecy is entirely up to you.
Adèle examines her warily, but if there’s anything being hidden from her, she can’t detect it behind those glassy eyes.
Adèle
- Then there’s still a chance for me to leave this car, right?
Beryl
- This is a spiritual haven. A place which belongs to you alone. Once you leave …
- You may find salvation hidden within the currents or a fate far worse than death.
Adèle
- *sigh* I don’t want to know what lies in wait for me.
- What I want is to get out of here and destroy the diamond, just as I promised. I won’t fail again.
- You know a way to let me out, no? You wouldn’t be here otherwise.
- Please, madame! Tell me!
- Whatever future you’re hoping to see, it will never happen if I give up now!
She clenches her fist, ready to shatter the window if no answer comes.
Even now, she doesn’t know what Beryl truly wants. She doesn’t understand and has no time to attempt to.
Then, the diviner’s smile fades, replaced by something unfamiliar.
It’s a diluted kind of sorrow, perhaps just the weariness of someone used to failure.
Beryl
- Even in the face of oblivion, you would try to change your fate.
She leans forward, presses down Adèle’s fist, and gently opens the door.
Beryl
- Go then.
Beryl holds it there, steady, meeting Adèle’s startled eyes.
Adèle
- Thank you.
Outside, the lights of the city seem blindingly white, as near and as distant as the sun.
A strange calm washes over her, despite seeing nothing at all.
Adèle
- I’ll see you around, Madame Bouanich.
She steps into the white.
Beryl
- …
Beryl closes her eyes.
She recalls something from long ago.
Félicienne
- So, where is this so-called “fate” you’ve been waiting for?
- You’ve seen the end already, haven’t you? The only one possible, anyway: my triumph.
- You prophets are all the same. Hah! My family bankrolled a dozen frauds like you, yet not one ever foresaw the Revolution.
- You ought to have dedicated yourself to the Guiding One instead.
Beryl raises a finger to Félicienne’s lips, shushing her arrogant colleague.
Beryl
- You speak because you seek my direction.
- You wish to unravel the secrets of resurrection.
Félicienne
- You’re clever for a prophet. Of course that’s my goal. I wouldn’t allow those bungling followers to take credit for such a discovery.
- I must determine the truth before anyone else.
Beryl
- North. That is where your path leads.
- But know that there are consequences to what you seek. You will not emerge from it the same.
Félicienne
- Hmph, spare me the theatrics. I shan’t be intimidated. You’ve pointed the way; I have no more need of you.
- Whatever consequences lie ahead depend on me, on my actions. Not some puddle of “fate.”
- Goodbye, madame. Let us see what the “All-Seeing Lady” has seen for us.
Beryl watches her silhouette.
It passes through the corridor, out the door, vanishing into the blinding daylight.
Beryl
- Goodbye, Adèle. I look forward to seeing what comes of your actions.
- To seeing another prove me wrong.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
??? :
- It is true; I have held back many important details.
- Concerning matters like the nature of Félicienne and Brume’s relationship, and Professor Roseau’s true intentions.
- But I believe it is not my place to disclose such things. People deserve to discover these things on their own.
Listener :
- You’ve fooled everyone.
??? :
- And you have placed far too much importance on prophecy. The course of fate remains the same, whether I speak about it or not.
- In this kind of business, one must remain neutral—all of my clientele understand that.
- I take no sides, only payments.
Listener :
- I need an explanation.
??? :
- The “Storm” has affected many things, including the Depths of Myth. One day, Laurent Roseau stumbled upon a rift that caused it to spill over, and his mind has been captured in its maelstrom ever since.
- As for Felicienne—she was a soul lost within the Depths of Myth. Thus, their streams of fate inevitably crossed.
- With the villains in their proper places, Brume’s story had truly begun.
Listener :
- I’m more interested in the part involving Matilda.
??? :
- Ah, of course—and why not? My Matilda … such a lovely, radiant girl. She has inherited my strength and added to it a vitality of her own. Those who speak with her often leave smiling.
- As for her future, I cannot share it with you here.
- But I can assure you: her path is one worth looking forward to.
She runs through the endless white, not knowing what she’s searching for, nor where the path will end.
Adèle
- Streams of fate … But how can I find them? Dowsing might be a little on the nose.
- Damn! She was just steps away from me when I was in the car!
Her steps grow heavy, but she doesn’t stop, until “Paris” appears before her.
Adèle
- Wh-What’s that?
A city pierces the clouds, mirrored in the sky. People and beasts alike stop to stare up at the mirrored double above her.
Professor Roseau
- How spectacular! If this isn’t a miracle, then I must ask what else could possibly qualify as one?
- Let dusty historians scoff and rivals sneer! But there are none who would dare scorn this timeless, flawless vision of Parisian beauty across the ages!
- Who from this lofty perch would deny this is the truest form of Paris?
- The Palace of Optics, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre-Dame, the Luxor Obelisk, the Lutetia Arena, the medieval quarters—each piece woven together in perfect harmony!
- As I’ve said, thought shapes reality. This Paris—born from collective imagination—is Paris at its most true and most real!
- Only when it fully descends shall we finally possess a real world—a life worth living!
One embraces the sky. One holds the key to the ritual. The last remains silent.
“Félicienne”
- Must you hang over me like this, Roseau?
- And you, madame, did you foresee this?
- The fate of Paris now rests in my hands, and yet I remain myself. What a pity it must be for you.
Beryl
- …
“Félicienne”
- Hmph, no more tricks?
Adèle
- “What lies below shall reflect what lies above”? So, this is what will befall Paris?
She reaches toward Félicienne, but her hand passes straight through her.
Adèle
- I can’t touch her.
She tries everything—attacking, casting arcane skills, pinching her own arm—until a flash of white swallows her entirely.
Beryl
- You have returned.
Adèle
- What?!
When she blinks, she’s back inside the taxi.
Adèle
- H-How am I back in here?
Beryl
- You failed to take back your body. So long as you return here, though, there is still a chance.
Adèle
- I found Félicienne! She—I was right next to her, but I couldn’t reach her no matter how I tried!
Beryl
- Then give up, and accept this as your final resting place.
Adèle
- No, I won’t sit here and do nothing. I will destroy that diamond. I must, for Célia.
- But how am I supposed to reach Félicienne?
- Wait. I don’t really need to reach her, do I?
She snaps upright, remembering.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich, you said before that the stream of my fate merged with Félicienne’s.
- So, in a sense, she and I are always together, right?
Her fingers brush the dragon’s spine in her pocket—the smooth cut, the limp tail tip.
Adèle
- Then I don’t need to “find her” nor even “find myself.” Because she is me, and I am her!
Beryl
- You have begun to understand.
- She only had the means to claim your body because your spirits are closely intertwined.
- Any impact to your body affects both souls. Though the weaker of the two spirits often cannot endure the strain.
Adèle
- “Often,” but not never, no? So even you can’t see what comes next.
- You don’t know whether Félicienne or I will win this fight!
She locks eyes with the impartial diviner. And then she sees it—the flaw, the crack in the illusion.
Beryl meets her gaze. For once, real fire flickers in those crystalline eyes.
Beryl
- The currents of fate will bend to your actions. You will steer its course rather than be swept away.
- You have never once yielded before destiny, and that is precisely why I have followed you from the beginning.
She no longer looks detached and polished, no longer like a crystal reflecting every light but her own.
The diviner finally descends to the world as it is.
Beryl
- It is as you say. I do not know if you’ll emerge victorious in this final trial.
- Will you carry this through for me?
Adèle
- Do you even need to ask?
The fragments in her hand pulse in time with her heartbeat.
Adèle
- So, Félicienne. Time for you to experience the Tavernier family curse.
Her marvelous little dragon pokes its head from her pocket, sparks flaring from its nostrils.
Adèle
- If our fates are truly entwined, then this curse must bind your soul as well as mine. And in true Tavernier fashion, your end will come just as you lay hands on the treasure you desire most.
The ritual proceeds moment by moment as the Paris above them begins drawing closer to the ground, the twin Eiffel Towers nearing collision.
Unnatural light emits brightly from the diamond, drawing the two worlds together.
Professor Roseau
- Incredible, Félicienne! Just a little longer, and Paris, as it should be, born from the collective unconscious, will descend into reality!
- The true Paris—not like the garbage heap below us!
*bang*
A bullet grazes the diamond. Félicienne instinctively shields it with her hand. The mirrored city above begins to fade.
(Eiffel Tower, Paris)
Professor Roseau
- Célia? How did you get here? How are you still alive?
The professor’s assistant stands with a gun aimed at him, but her outline wavers, ghost-like, just like the reflection above them.
Célia
- Adèle called out to me.
Professor Roseau
- Fascinating. Truly fascinating! Your soul should’ve been erased by Félicienne. I must thank you once again, my most brilliant student. Your existence confirms another of my theories:
- The Depths of Myth promises more than just resurrection, but an end to death itself!
“Félicienne”
- Heh, a friend of Adèle’s? No doubt you’re as tactless as she was.
- You intend to stop me? Be my guest.
She lifts the diamond to her chest, right before her heart.
“Félicienne”
- Go on. You should be grateful I’ve given you the opportunity.
- Whether you hit me or the diamond, you’ll stop the ritual. Go on.
Célia
- You really think threatening Adèle’s body will intimidate me? It won’t work.
Her hand trembles. She fears missing the shot or, worse, hitting true.
“Félicienne”
- Yet, is that hesitation I see? Think about what our dear Adèle would say at a time like this—“pull the trigger.” Sounds like her, doesn’t it?
Célia
- Shut up! Shut up!
“Félicienne”
- My, my, have I said something wrong? Or perhaps you don’t know Adèle as well as you thought.
- Here, let me show you in a more vivid manner.
The woman inhabiting Adèle’s body tilts her head with one hand, as if shaking loose her thoughts.
“Félicienne”
- Don’t worry about me. Just shoot. Take us both out. It’s what you have to do.
- It’s the only way to break my family curse. You have to end the adventure with my death.
- To fall at the height of a brilliant journey. That’s better than fading into some bleak, ordinary end, no?
- No, Célia. You don’t need to do this! I’ll end this myself.
“Félicienne” & Célia
- Huh?!
An unexpected line is delivered in the clumsy play, stunning both the actress and her audience.
And at that moment, the sleeping dragon awakens in her pocket.
Félicienne
- Aaagghh!
- You irritating little lizard, how dare you harm your own master?!
- Damn you, Adèle! You and your wretched pet!
Flame sears through the haze, pain burning away the chaos of her memory.
The scorching heat, purging all illusion, returns the body to its rightful owner, finally allowing her to move freely.
Adèle
- So this is what it feels like for a soul to be scorched. I finally understand why so many fear hell.
Félicienne
- Adèle, you fool! Tell your pet to stop at once! Do you wish to die with me?
Adèle
- No, I don’t. Not right now, Félicienne. So why don’t you drop the diamond?
- I can already guess your response.
Adèle & Félicienne
- You keep dreaming! This diamond belongs to me! Not even death can steal it from me!
Adèle
- Heh, listen to you. You’d make an excellent Tavernier.
Félicienne’s anger only grows, her left hand clutching the diamond tighter still as the flames crawl further up her body inch by inch.
Adèle
- Now let’s see if fire can separate true from false, Félicienne!
(Battle)
Félicienne
- How utterly stubborn can you be?!
- This false era is ending. If you intend to continue to exist in the one to come, you must surrender your body to me!
Adèle
- I’m done listening to you order me around. You may think it “amusingly useless,” but let’s see how you handle my fire.
Félicienne
- Ugh, you barbarian!
…
Félicienne
- Tut! How much longer do you intend to play around with that cursed flame?!
Adèle
- Not long, just until you leave my body—for good.
…
Félicienne
- Enough … Enough!! You’re fired, Adèle!
Adèle
- Took you long enough.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
The professor writes one last line, snaps his notebook shut, and reaches under his coat.
His fingers grip his oldest friend—a “Le Protector” revolver.
Professor Roseau
- Then Adèle’s personality wasn’t entirely consumed. She’s managed to regain control of her body.
- Even a spirit as strong-willed as Félicienne lacks the ability to completely dominate another. Hmm, perhaps I was wrong to shift focus from the power of the collective unconscious.
Beryl
- There is no need for that, Professor.
Her spirit returns.
She raises her hand and nudges the barrel away from Adèle.
Beryl
- Even were you to interfere, the outcome would remain unchanged. You are but a pebble in the course of the stream of fate.
- Wait with me a little longer. Things may just take an unexpected turn.
Professor Roseau
- You saw something, didn’t you?
Beryl
- Quite the contrary, I see nothing, and that is what fascinates me most of all.
Félicienne
- You’re fired, Adèle!
- You reckless, foolish would-be Joan of Arc!
Félicienne’s form convulses violently. Without a vessel to cling to, she’s nothing but a drifting soul—a shadow.
A failed actress, dragged offstage.
Adèle
- That’s almost flattering.
- But this is nothing compared to what you did to Célia.
She picks up the diamond that rolled away during the struggle.
Célia
- Adèle, hurry! Turn your fire on the diamond.
Félicienne
- Silence!
Célia
- Ugh …
Her figure flickers as Félicienne lifts her hand. Then, with only a twist of her wrist, Célia’s outline melts away.
Adèle
- Stop this, Félicienne!
There’s no time to check on her friend. Instead, she grips the blue diamond so hard she imagines it could break.
Only the real remains. All falsehood will burn away to ash.
This charade must finally be put to rest.
Adèle
- By fire, what is false—
Félicienne
- Heh.
Adèle
- …!
Félicienne
- You disgusting hypocrite! Don’t you dare wag that finger at me!
- You may fool everyone else, but not me. I know you better than anyone. I know your true colors!
- Deny it all you want, but our souls are entwined, because deep down, you and I are just alike! Take pride in it, girl! Hosting me will be your greatest achievement!
- Be honest, now! No need to play pretend as you did with Célia. All that time, you let her keep writing those letters, knowing full well that your parents were long dead. How wickedly false indeed!
Adèle
- N-No … I just …
Cold fingers tighten, blurring the line between the living and the dead.
Félicienne
- She shared her deepest hopes and dreams with you through those make-believe adventures. But you ignored them. What’s there to envy about a cursed bloodline?
- Hmph. I suppose you kept her as a salve to your dreary, miserable life. You really thought you could fool the world into thinking taxi driving was your highest ambition? Deep down you’ve always craved more.
Adèle
- *cough* Don’t act like … you know me …
She gasps for breath, forcing out a strained protest.
Félicienne
- But I do know you! I know each and every one of your wicked thoughts better than you do!
- She told you to burn the diamond, but you … you secretly desired it! You craved your place in this adventure—your death!
- Who could blame you for “triggering the curse”? You weren’t chasing treasure—not by choice. Not like your parents.
- All of this to pretend you were “unwillingly” caught up in this adventure. You even get to play the savior, haha!
- And, oh, how your dear little friend fits the role of a damsel in distress. All you need is a villain.
- And that’s where I came in, just as you wished.
- Of all people in Paris, why did I come to you? Have you given it even the slightest thought?
Muscle and bone grind and twist beneath her crushing grip.
Félicienne
- Admit it, Adèle! You wanted me to hurt Célia! You wanted to kill her!
Adèle uses all her strength to turn toward Célia’s face, finding it frozen in shock.
Adèle
- *cough* You’re … lying …
Félicienne
- Ah, yes, lies. She lied to you too, Adèle.
- You really are a perfect duo—two little liars keeping secrets from one another.
Félicienne
- Allow me to reveal another secret. Destroying this diamond will bring an end to more than just me. It will end her as well.
- Though perhaps, without her, you might at last be free.
Adèle
- That’s not … true …
She looks at Célia again and hears the same plea she’s heard a hundred times before.
Célia
- Don’t listen to her, Adèle! You must destroy the diamond! The Depths of Myth must not be unleashed!
Félicienne
- Lose your friend or lose the city—what will it be, Ms. Tavernier?
- What am I saying? I have no intention of giving you the chance to decide. I’m not about to die again.
She lowers her head for no other reason than to indulge in her suffering.
But what she sees instead is a crooked smile with teeth clenched in defiance.
Félicienne
- Argh! Damn it!
Félicienne recoils, shoving Adèle away.
Adèle, anticipating the next play perfectly, rolls twice and lands on her feet.
Adèle
- Funny that. I’m not ready to die either.
She doesn’t look back at Célia. Those anxious eyes burn hotter than any flame of truth.
The shell of “Félicienne” peels away completely, and without warning, a massive shadow takes form at the tip of the Eiffel Tower.
“Félicienne”
- I won’t let you get away!
(Battle)
“Félicienne”
- Do you really believe you can escape this? Escape me?
Adèle
- Soldiers … shapeshifting … Manus Vindictae?
“Félicienne”
- My dear, foolish Adèle … You are but a grain of sand before the tides of fate.
- What good could possibly come from fighting me?
Adèle
- The rift is widening. We have to stop her.
- Those monsters … they’re forming some sort of shield. We need to break through …
- Allez, Adèle, think!
…
Adèle
- Leave me alone, you … phantoms!
- If the Depths of Myth is nothing more than a sea of collective unconscious, then the creatures born from it must be …
- … mere reflections!
…
“Félicienne”
- Is that feeble little flame supposed to scare me?
- Open your eyes and look around—can you not see what these miserable people want?
…
“Félicienne”
- I am Félicienne, she who defies death—the one true existence among you short-lived creatures!
- Who are you to think you can stop me?
…
Adèle
- I’m nobody. Just a tour guide from Paris who can handle a car—and tell truth from lies!
- By fire, what is false is purged!
…
Adèle
- *panting*
- Stop this, Félicienne.
- You’re no master of this city. You’re not even the master of yourself.
Professor Roseau
- She’s going to destroy the key, Beryl.
- If I don’t intervene, all I’ve worked for will come to nothing. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot.
Beryl
- The rift of the Archive of Imagery has shown no signs of closing, Professor.
- Look up again. Watch closely.
Laurent Roseau lifts his head. The city in the sky drifts closer, its edge scraping the horizon.
Beryl
- The diamond has already served its purpose. It has torn the rift open; the Depths of Myth is trickling down over us as we speak.
- Let’s see what more the little gemstone can do in her hands.
Adèle wipes the blood from the blue diamond with her thumb.
Adèle
- …
Before she decides, she has to be sure of one thing.
Adèle
- Célia, you said you’d buy me a good-luck necklace after you publish your paper.
- Will you keep that promise?
She lowers her head. Blood diluted with tears and sweat runs down her face, dripping onto the diamond.
Célia
- You’re too cruel, Adèle.
- Why didn’t you just tell me? I wouldn’t have had to write all those silly letters.
A strained, awkward smile twists her lips.
Adèle
- Will I see-see you again?
Célia
- I’m not sure.
Her eyes land on Félicienne, unconscious beside her. Time is running out.
At last, Célia steps forward.
Like when they were children, she places her hand over Adèle’s, helping her close her fist.
Célia
- The art of resurrection is elusive and unknown.
- I don’t know what will happen after the diamond is destroyed. What Félicienne said—it was just speculation.
- There’s no more time, Adèle. Make your decision, now.
Adèle listens, motionless. After a few failed attempts, she forces out the words.
Adèle
- You know what? Félicienne was right. I am a foolish, pathetic hypocrite.
- But she still doesn’t know all that much.
She steadies her breath, but her next sentences spill out without any filter.
Adèle
- You were never the damsel in distress. No, you’re the hero, the adventurer.
- You were the one who uncovered all the clues. You were the first to embark on this journey.
- You’re more of a Tavernier than I’ll ever be, Cici.
Célia
- …
The hand holding Adèle’s tightens once more. Célia sighs softly, helplessly. Then Adèle hears her laugh.
Célia
- Don’t be silly, Adèle. That never mattered to me.
- It wasn’t the tales of gemstones or adventures that drew me to the Tavernier family. It was you.
Adèle
- Huh … Me?
Célia
- You’ve always been so driven and sure of yourself. Even when we were kids, you never hesitated, never looked back.
- I wish I could live without regrets like you do.
That laugh tears through her trembling heart.
But it keeps beating—scarred, but alive.
Célia
- Stay that way, Adèle, just as you are.
She bites out the words like an oath or a demand.
Célia
- Well, maybe not completely without regrets. That’s asking the impossible. But if you hesitate now, I’ll be disappointed.
Célia smiles one last time.
Célia
- So go on. Follow your heart, my dear friend.
- I believe in you.
She pats Adèle’s shoulder and lets go.
Adèle
- …
The sound fades. So does her breath. Only the heartbeat remains.
All the waiting, torment, pursuit, and struggle have come to an end. Every ounce of hope, hatred, sorrow, and forgiveness has been poured out.
She has no other choice.
Adèle
- By fire, what is false is purged.
Flame is just another means of transformation, but now it must expose what’s real.
Whatever the disguise, their true natures are revealed. As both substance and form change.
The consuming flames surge upward, devouring the French Blue. Adèle feels her hand grow heavy, as a familiar smoky quartz reappears in her palm.
But the French Blue doesn’t vanish. The single gem becomes two. Image and matter part ways, yet neither returns to its origin.
Adèle
- How …?
- How can it still be here?
- By fire, what is false is purged!
In the blaze, falsehood crumbles and truth remains.
The translucent blue diamond endures, proving its unshakeable reality.
Adèle
- I burned the Beasts of Gévaudan; I even burned Félicienne.
- So why can’t I burn this diamond? It is from the Depths of Myth, isn’t it?
Célia
- Surely it can’t survive your fire. It isn’t possible. It’s only a symbol.
Beryl
- A primordial symbol, yes. That is precisely why it survives.
The diviner affirms her words.
Beryl
- The French Blue is both abstract and concrete, an iconic symbol held deep in the collective imagination of our society.
- No matter how many imitations or counterfeits may exist, none will ever take its place.
- It is eternally transcendent—unconditionally pure. Its existence can never truly be destroyed.
- You have done all you can, Adèle. Bravo.
Adèle listens, confused. She’s changed nothing, and yet she’s praised.
Paris continues to descend. The twin Eiffel Towers crossing at their tips.
Like a ladder folding away, heaven and earth draw closer.
Célia and Félicienne grow transparent, stripped away by the wind.
Adèle
- But I failed to destroy the diamond. Célia and Félicienne are …
Adèle can’t go on, but she sees Beryl’s smile.
The same smile she gave her long ago in that divination salon—the version of her in that moment, smiling now.
Beryl
- Countless streams converge and intertwine here in this moment. An unstoppable downpour is coming.
- And in it, you are a remarkably stalwart droplet. Your struggle has at last reached its conclusion.
- The rain … It is about to fall.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
??? :
- What a cruel “Storm.”
- So far, the story has followed along a classic direction—Brume walked “the Hero’s Journey.”
- But just as it seemed that it might end with triumph, down came the “Storm.”
- This is the fifth joke fate has played on me.
Listener :
- I have no love for the “Storm” either.
??? :
- I must be honest with you. There is something in it that I like.
- As dreadful as it may be to stand before a future I cannot foresee, I feel something else. Perhaps you might call it hope.
- For someone born with my abilities, there is a strange beauty in moments like these, to know how it feels to know nothing.
Listener :
- Well. I admit I saw it coming.
??? :
- Of course you did. You know the “Storm” better than most anyone.
- I suspect you knew how it would end the moment I told you how it began.
- Yet I cannot see beyond the “Storm,” so it always takes me by surprise.
Listener :
- Are you hoping that the “Storm” will break fate’s course?
??? :
- Yes, though I understand it may come at a great price.
- Ah! Perhaps that is why the Vigiles Bureau and the Foundation have kept such a keen eye on me.
- Perhaps they think me one of those “Storm” advocates.
- But why would I advocate for it? I have never asked for it. All I have done is try to understand it.
Without hesitation, Adèle rushes to Célia, trying to steady her friend.
Célia weakly shakes her head, stopping her.
Célia
- …
The diviner looks past everyone, toward the darkening sky.
Beryl
- Just as it was meant to be.
Adèle
- What?
- This ridiculous sight … This distorted “Paris” …
She smiles too, then lowers her gaze to the world below the tower.
The beasts below have donned new costumes, masquerading as humans. The strike becomes like a carnival parade.
More figures pour out from the alleys and buildings, half-beast, half-human, joining the wild hunt.
Adèle
- The July Column just turned into a bilboquet, the Vert-Galant statue replaced with some bizarre lobster, and my friend is disappearing before my eyes.
- And you’re telling me that all this was meant to happen?!
- It’s all so-so meaningless, hah, so absurd.
Beryl
- Is it?
A single word pulls Beryl from her trance.
Beryl
- Hm. Perhaps you are right, Adèle. Thank you for showing me what I could not see.
- Fate, destiny—it has become nothing more than an absurdity. A tangled mess.
- This “Storm” should never have come to pass.
Adèle
- “Storm”?
She repeats the word faintly, glancing around.
Célia, too weak to speak; Félicienne, still unconscious; and Beryl—watching them both in silence.
Everyone is spent. Only one delirious actor remains on the stage.
Professor Roseau
- This “Storm” is quite the delightful surprise!
- Look at this mass hysteria. It’s becoming ever more unified!
- As if some force—some will—is drawing them together, controlling them.
He stumbles, penning the last stroke in his notebook.
Professor Roseau
- Yes! Yes, I see it clearly now! The world is a stage—a performance with no script—and we have arrived at the moment when the curtain must fall and the scene must shift!
- This upheaval—this shift we’ve ushered in—has been intensifying the turmoil of the era!
- What a marvelous device! It’s just the spark we need to ignite a cleansing fire.
- With this power, we can manipulate the appearance of the “Storm” as we please!
- The changes to the mass hysteria … Yes, it’s all obvious now. They were born from the collective subconscious. We are mere actors on this stage! For the material world is nothing but a projection of the mind!
- Hahaha … Hahahahahaha!
- Their dialogues are but borrowed lines from ancient scripts! Their passion—their love for life—an oblivious repetition of the same narratives! The play has no script yet tells the same story! This material world—it is nothing more than a flicker on a cave wall!
- I’ve seen it—the ultimate truth! The truth that even the transcendental Law feigns to hide!
- But I’ve seen it now, hahahaha! I’ve seen it!
- The Depths of Myth itself will also be corrected, just as all the errors of the reality. But who decided which of these errors are “wrong” to begin with? Or perhaps, what is “right” is essentially an endlessly repeated chain of errors?! Hahaha …!
Laurent Roseau bends backward, so sharply it seems as if he would snap in two. The reflected light of the sky-city shimmering in a reflection of his manic joy.
Beryl looks at him. Pity flickering across her tired face.
Adèle
- What’s wrong with him?
Beryl
- He has seen the fruition of his life’s work, and it has driven him mad.
- But mad or not, none of it will matter soon.
- This whimsical era—along with the Paris we know—will be washed away in the coming rain.
Adèle
- Is this some kind of joke? Am I missing something?
- An era wiped out by a little rain? It doesn’t make any sense.
Célia
- …
Adèle
- No, Célia!
Paris—
The city of light, of romance, and a tapestry of symbols.
Never shy in showing all manner of emotions—the chaotic passions of conflicting views, the conspiracies staged in her ancient alleys …
Because she defends your right to choose. To scream or fall silent. To look back or forward. To live under a monarchy or republic. And all manner of thought …
You may throw yourself into the maelstrom or conjure up a new one yourself.
Adèle
- Célia loves this city so deeply. She knows everything about Paris, from the catacombs to the top of every tower.
- Célia deserves to live, not me!
- Why? Why does Célia have to vanish?
We stand in a vast garden surrounded by innumerable intersecting paths, welcoming endless forks, endless choices.
Hernani, Notre Dame, the hot air balloons drifting above the Palais Saint-Pierre … Philosophies find their form, passing lip to lip and heart to heart through all her residents.
To regard fate and life with elegance and levity—that is the very spirit of Paris.
Where dreams and imaginings never fade—they stay with you across all times and eras, like a moveable feast.
Immortal. Indestructible.
Adèle
- No …
Professor Roseau
- What more is there for me to seek in this meaningless, inferior world? The “true” world—the one that matters—has already descended!
- Voilà, see that? The clearest, most perfect water at the bottom of the Archive!
- Now so close, almost within reach! In the deepest, most pristine layer of our joined consciousness!
Eternally real.
Eternally imprinted in the mind.
(Eiffel Tower, Paris)
Beryl
- The rift is closing. The “Storm” will now correct the faults of this era.
- The City of Light descending from the sky, the phantoms walking among the living, and the legendary beasts roaming the streets—they will all vanish.
- The mad have fulfilled their wish. The play has come to an end. Everything once in chaos will be brought back to order.
???
- No …
- Beryl …
A hand clamps tight around Beryl’s ankle.
Beryl
- Ah, you have awakened.
- Though perhaps it would be better to remain asleep. It may spare you some pain.
Félicienne
- I … I am no coward, Beryl!
She gasps, though no air, no wind, can fill what’s left of her fading chest.
Félicienne
- But you have to fix this! You have to do something!
- Tell me how to change this, just a hint!
- I refuse to vanish like this—to disappear after finally clawing my way back!
Beryl lifts her foot and steps forward without concern. Félicienne’s fingers close desperately on empty air.
Félicienne
- Those worthless grovelers who can’t even use arcane skills! They deserve to die, not me!
- This world belongs to us!
- Don’t you dare turn your back on me, Beryl Bouanich!
- I will report every moment of this to the Guiding One!
The retreating footsteps pause.
Félicienne
- I saw what you did to Laurent Roseau! You drove him to his death!
- You’ve never been loyal to anyone! You’re nothing but a soulless profiteer.
- You care for nothing! You never believed in any of the principles of Manus Vindictae! You never wanted to bring back the beautiful world we once had, did you?!
The sound of familiar steps approaches again, stopping right in front of her.
Beryl
- How amusing.
- You seek my help, yet accuse and threaten me in the same breath.
- Do you think you speak to me from a position of strength? What would you do if our positions were reversed, dear Félicienne?
Beryl looks down at Félicienne as if examining a rare creature writhing in a deadly trap.
Félicienne
- …
Beryl
- There is nothing more to say.
- It has been a pleasure, madame.
Before Beryl can move, Félicienne trembles out a faint, broken sentence.
Félicienne
- …
Beryl
- Hm?
Félicienne
- Ugh …
She lowers her head, throat straining. Droplets slide from her hair and vanish into the dust.
Félicienne
- Please …
- Please help me … Beryl …
- I … I don’t want to die …!
Beryl
- Very well.
Beryl nods, straightens, and asks her final question.
But this time her translucent gaze settles on Adèle.
Beryl
- What do you think, Adèle?
- Should she be saved or pay for what she has done with her life?
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Adèle
- Sounds like you’re just trying to pass the burden onto me.
- Whether she lives or dies … The weight ends up on my shoulders, doesn’t it?
The question is more direct than expected. Beryl thinks over the words, then nods again.
Beryl
- In many ways you two are alike; neither of you can stand by as fate attempts to pull you down its path. You fight.
- It is no wonder that she could reach into the depths of your mind.
- Now, her very existence is in your hands. You will not have another chance like this.
She reaches out her hand.
Beryl
- Your friend and the original Félicienne perished in the same way. It is likely, then, that she has returned to the Depths of Myth.
- Should Félicienne live, she may become the key to discovering the truth of that realm. And in time, you may even find a way to bring your friend back.
- Yet, should she die, you will have taken a fitting revenge, and her torment of your body will end at last.
Adèle
- Swear it, then. Swear that every word you just said is true.
One pair of earnest eyes meets another, calm and unflinching.
Beryl
- You ask for something beyond what I am capable of.
- As you know, arcanum has its limits. There is no absolute way to prove one’s intentions or words, just as I cannot see all ends as clearly as I once did.
- Time is ticking. Give me the diamond now, or lose this opportunity forever.
Adèle hesitates, then raises her arm.
Félicienne is silent, or perhaps she can no longer speak.
She lowers her head. That proud defiance she once carried is gone.
Irritation, exhaustion, and aimless rage wash over her. And in the end, it all becomes a sigh.
Adèle
- … Take it.
Her resentment is still there, but somehow looking at her broken and pathetic, it awakens some pity in her.
Adèle
- Save her.
The diamond drops into Beryl’s palm.
Beryl
- Thank you.
- You have led me to the answer. I will respond with the sincerity it deserves.
- As I have said before, your fates have converged.
- Félicienne, your journey through the spiritual realm has reached its end. But you still have a place in the crown of the material world.
- Now, the pneuma that has reached the edge of one world must begin anew in the next.
Beryl
- Take this, Adèle.
- An accolade for your adventure.
Adèle
- Hah. An accolade?
It’s back in her hand.
Stained with blood, warm with tears, the last thing she still owns.
Adèle
- Thank you.
- But your eyes …
Beryl
- Please do not worry yourself.
- It seems I have walked this shoreline too long. I have grown too accustomed to watching its flow.
- The more I think I see through fate, the more vulnerable I become to it.
- Still, I chose to watch one final time—just this once.
She smiles and points to the diamond clutched in Adèle’s hand.
Beryl
- It makes for a fine “imitation.”
- Your flame separated the French Blue from the smoky quartz it had inhabited.
- I simply gave it a new vessel—a clear quartz. It was the best that I could manage. I hope it will suffice.
- And I hope both you and Félicienne will be satisfied with it.
Adèle
- Will she wake up soon? And when that happens, will I still see her image in my hallucinations like before?
Beryl
- You will suffer no more hallucinations.
- And she will awaken again—in time.
- Yet you will be the sole master of your body. She is but a soul quietly bound to it.
- So long as neither of you strays too far from the other, her soul should remain whole.
Its edges cut into her fingers. She feels the veins in her fingertips tighten, pulling at her heart.
Everything unfolds as foretold.
Even the French Blue fulfills its destined curse, entangling its bearer like a shadow.
Beryl
- The rain is about to fall. We must go. By dawn tomorrow, this world will be washed clean.
- I must admit, I enjoyed this ending of yours. But whether you continue to the next chapter is up to you.
But when the show ends, the audience must leave.
Beryl has always obeyed that rule, and she is not about to change.
Adèle
- Madame Bouanich!
- Madame Bouanich, forgive me, do you know the theory of evolution?
- Humankind evolved from apes. I don’t understand the science, but, in short, we all came from monkeys.
- But then, where did that monkey come from? Are we all just a copy of a copy of some ancient thing?
- And if we keep tracing back, how did life even begin on Earth?
- Can we ever find that original spark of life? Is it even possible?
Beryl
- …
Adèle
- What I’m trying to say is, things rarely have a single clear cause.
- The birth of life is complex. It can be influenced by all kinds of factors.
- Maybe that applies to fate as well.
- So, whatever happens, I don’t intend for my story to end any time soon.
Friends, home, curses, prophecies … Everything she’s ever hoped for or fought to achieve means nothing against the rain.
If only one explanation remains, she’ll seize it.
Even if it’s just a fragile thread of silk.
Adèle
- Please, take me with you. There must be a way to avoid this “Storm” you spoke of!
She shouts—the Tavernier Curse may already be in motion.
This is the goal fate intended. A goal worth dying for. The rain washes everything away, ending her long wait.
As ordinary life fades away, her adventure truly begins.
Adèle
- I’ll help you find jewels in return—answers, anything! Whatever it is you seek!
Beryl
- A generous offer. To honor your sincerity, I shall give you an answer. What is it you wish to know?
Adèle
- The truth about the “Storm.”
She answers without hesitation.
Adèle
- I need to understand it so I can bring back my friends.
Beryl
- Including Félicienne?
Adèle
- I wouldn’t call her a friend. But for her to simply vanish, hmph, that’s just too merciful for her.
The diviner listens to every word, then nods.
Beryl
- Would you still accompany me, knowing we may gain nothing in the end?
Adèle
- I would.
- You can’t just sit around waiting for something terrible to happen, can you?
The little dragon climbs onto her shoulder and spits out a fireball.
Beryl
- Indeed. I suppose there will never be an age lacking those who chase gemstones and answers about their fate.
- Perhaps a jewel hunter is exactly what my little establishment needs.
Adèle
- Which way do we go, Madame Bouanich?
Beryl
- Forward. Through the crowd.
- Allow me to guide you.
Adèle
- I’m just glad to be of service, madame.
- I hope you have a pleasant journey.
Beryl takes a final wistful look at the revelers.
This city is just the place where she keeps herself, a jewelry box made to hold a precious crystal.
Still, she decides to remember it—just a little longer. That’s enough.
She leans back in the passenger seat and closes her eyes.
Beryl
- For a long while going forward, I may not be able to divine with the same precision I once had.
- Yet this feeling of “not seeing” has a comfort of its own.
- If our fate truly is guided by a higher being, I must imagine they are blind.
The radio begins to play.
Beryl
- I hope that, when I awake, you will have reached your destination.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
??? :
- It was then that I decided to help Brume one last time.
- There was risk in my choice. I could not see what the consequences would be.
- Still, I succeeded, and the rewards were most generous. Many suspected that I had planned it from the start—a common accusation made of diviners, of course.
Listener :
- You chose to let the villain live.
??? :
- Do you think I did not punish her enough?
- She lives, true, but sealed inside a false diamond. I doubt that was the life she had intended.
- Besides, Brume has the right to decide her fate. It was not my place to choose whether she lives or dies.
Listener :
- How’s your vision?
??? :
- Thank you for your concern; I am doing well, though the future now comes to me through an ever-thickening haze.
- Though, I should say, I find myself welcoming the lack of clarity.
- I am now able to watch my daughter grow, to observe her, and feel true surprise in every step she takes.
??? :
- If there is anything to take away from Brume’s story, I would suggest this:
- Sometimes, good can come from being blind to fate’s path.
- How exciting it must be to arrive in this world knowing nothing and, after a long, beautiful journey, realize just how much there is still to discover.
(Interrogation Room, Vigiles Bureau)
Vigil Officer
- So, let me get this straight: The fifth “Storm” was brought forth by Manus Vindictae, and you witnessed the process firsthand.
- Based on your testimony, Ms. Beryl Bouanich wasn’t an accomplice of the Manus, and she even saved your life.
Brume
- Yes.
The mist clears from the black mirror, revealing the witness beneath—it was never a lie.
Vigil Officer
- …
- And after that? What happened?
Brume
- I followed Madame Bouanich’s advice and made it to a shelter that could resist the “Storm.”
- The rain got heavier and heavier along the way, but thankfully, we made it there just in time.
- It’s such a shame my little cab didn’t have room for anyone else.
- I know that there’s still a Paris out there, but it’s no longer my Paris.
- Everything I loved there was washed away in the rain. Heh, just as the prophecy said.
The storyteller caps her story with a bitter laugh, leaving the room quiet.
Brume
- And the rest … you already know.
- Thanks to Madame Bouanich, I wasn’t left on the streets alone.
- The neighborhoods I knew, the people I once recognized—they’ve all changed. But at least I have my car.
- In any case, I still prefer driving the streets to staying in some cozy room.
- Madame Bouanich’s work keeps her on the move, so I’ve been helping her since then.
- We even went to Delhi to sell her topazes. Oh, and I met her daughter there—Matilda.
- She’s nothing like her mother. Everything she feels is written plainly on her face. To be honest, I get along better with her.
- Madame Bouanich … She’s changed, too.
She pauses.
Brume
- She feels more real now. More alive.
Their conversation continues for some time before ending, until, after the sound of departing footsteps, silence returns.
Black Ibis’s Cadet
- It seems Ms. Bouanich is in the clear, based on the witness’s testimony.
- She claims Beryl Bouanich saved her and has remained at her side for years. If there were anything suspicious going on, she would’ve noticed.
Black Ibis
- Hmm. I wouldn’t be so sure.
A voice comes from the shadowed corner. Throughout the inquiry, his superior has kept silent.
Black Ibis’s Cadet
- You don’t trust the lie detector results? Isn’t this the most advanced, top-of-the-line model?
Black Ibis
- Advanced or not, machines can fail. I prefer to trust my instincts.
Black Ibis steps out from the dark, rapping her knuckles on that costly “top-of-the-line model” on the table.
Black Ibis
- And mine are telling me—she’s hiding something.
Black Ibis’s Cadet
- About the fifth “Storm”?
Black Ibis
- That, and the fact that Madame Bouanich returned so abruptly.
- After the ninth “Storm,” she vanished without a trace. Who would’ve thought—
- She would stroll back in out of nowhere, acting as if nothing happened, with some “big revelation” in hand.
The corridor is empty but for one still figure.
Voice in Head
- Unbelievable. One sloppy mistake after another.
- You’d have been less conspicuous if you’d just written “liar” all over your face. You should count yourself lucky I covered for you.
Brume hadn’t planned to answer, but the voice is incessant.
Brume
- Are you expecting a thank you from me, Félicienne?
- Don’t think I don’t know. You just don’t want your own secrets exposed.
- And didn’t I tell you to stop talking to me like this while we’re on Foundation grounds? Who knows who might be eavesdropping on us?
Félicienne
- And I told you that I can hear you perfectly well without you mouthing the words. Is that really so hard to understand?
Brume
- And if I slip up subconsciously?
- I suppose you might have forgotten what it feels like to have a mouth.
A cold snort crawls from her left hand up through her arm and rattles around her skull.
Félicienne
- Always so rude to me, while you offer nothing but praise and fawning to that woman.
- You ought to have listened to me—gone to meet the Guiding One and pledged your loyalty. But you didn’t because you are, and always have been, a stubborn fool.
- Fine. Side with the Foundation if you want. Call it ignorance, call it shortsightedness—should I expect anything less from such rabble?
- But staking our lives on that woman? That is something far more than simply foolish! Do you really trust her so much?
The complaining voice in her head receives a curt reply.
Brume
- I do. I believe in Madame Bouanich.
- She’ll prove I made the right choice.
A knock on the door. A pause. The chief of staff’s voice from within.
Z
- Who is it?
Vertin
- It’s me, Vertin. I’ve come to check on the status of my field mission application.
- Is now not a good time?
Usually the door opens right away, but this time she waits a little longer.
Z
- Please. Come in, Vertin.
She pushes it open. A stranger sits on the guest sofa.
Beryl
- We finally meet, Ms. Vertin. Matilda has told me much about you.
The name of an old classmate resurfaces. The woman’s refined features blur with another livelier face.
Vertin
- Then you must be Madame Beryl Bouanich?
Beryl
- I see we can skip the formalities.
Her smile is warm and gentle, but her eyes don’t match.
You have seen the golden thread, have you not?
(THE END)