A Saga of Heroes 37 (Patreon)

It had been a very hard fight, but they managed to force Hookwolf to retreat.

Saga sighed to herself as she checked over Bitch one more time. She used the Remembrance to make a large coat to cover the butch girl’s figure, along with a mask to keep her identity a secret. The memoria inside her… wasn’t gone, but it was stable now. She tried to pull it out of Bitch but found it had wrapped itself around her psyche something fierce. Taylor was afraid of harming her mind if she tried, so she left it there, as she explained to Tattletale.

“You’re just gonna leave it inside her?!” The Thinker was less than pleased. “She turned into a fucking werewolf!”

“Look, this is not ideal for me either. But this ‘concept’ that latched itself onto her?” Saga looked for the right words to explain, hoping to make the girl understand. “It agrees with her mind; it agrees a hell of a lot. This memoria of a wild beast resonates with her personality and is entrenching around her psyche in a way that’s becoming hard for me to tell where the real Bitch starts and where the memoria ends.”

Tattletale’s gaze shifted between her and her teammate. “Because they’re compatible…”

“Very,” Saga agreed.

“So, what does this mean?” Shadow Stalker, who leaned against a broken wall with her arms crossed, asked. “She gonna turn into a furry murder machine again?” She pointed with her thumb at some of the Nazi bodies littered around. “I’m all for dead Nazis. But I don’t like the thought of a beast suddenly running loose.”

“Funny,” Tattletale shot back with anger in her voice. “Considering how tight the PRT keeps your leash.”

Stalker growled, pushing herself off the wall, and looked like she wanted to physically hurt the Undersider.

Saga once more had to, unwillingly, play peacekeeper. “Enough, you two!” She called out threateningly. “We gotta think what to do next.”

“What’s there to do?” Stalker shrugged uncaringly, waving a hand at the unconscious girl. “Lock her up; she’s already got murder charges. Her suddenly being a berserker Changer is even worse.”

Bitch’s dogs growled at the vigilante.

“That’s not going to happen,” Tattletale warned her, putting her hand on a holster. And suddenly Taylor was very aware that she had a gun.

“It won’t,” Saga quickly said. “Listen, Stalker; That thing inside her? The PRT has no idea how to handle it. I’ll need to get my mentor to help me here, because locking her up while she has this monster in her mind will guarantee she’ll go on a rampage.”

The beast would certainly not react well to being behind bars.

“So, it’s better to handle it in an environment where she feels safe.”

“You wanna help her?!” Stalker called out incredulously. “She’s a fucking villain!”

“She’s someone who got a memetic concept shoved into her, and I very much doubt it was consensual,” Saga argued. “And when I looked into her memories, there wasn’t…” She paused. “There wasn’t malice there. She’s… angry, and hurt. She hurt people, but there was pain there; there wasn’t hatred or sadism.”

It had only been a small glimpse of a small, scared little girl, rooted at the core of her anger and pain. It was brief, drowned under the swath of animalistic fury that the memetic concept had cocooned her in.

She was a criminal, yes. She had murdered people. But not out of wanton bloodlust. Saga was finding things to be more complicated than she thought. She didn’t want to hand her over to the PRT, throw away the key, label her a villain, and be done with it, without anyone to help her.

Like nobody had helped her before, Mem.

Tattletale pressed her lips together.

“Oh, she’s got a sad backstory?” Stalker called out mockingly, “Newsflash: That’s a perquisite to being a parahuman! It doesn’t excuse anything!”

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Saga warned her, standing up to the vigilante, using her height to her advantage. “I don’t fucking care what you think; you’re not turning her in.”

“Oh yeah?” Stalker challenged. “Or what?”

“You’re not supposed to be here, remember? You’re not supposed to be carrying that kind of ammunition.” Saga reminded her. “And you definitely do not want the PRT to know you’ve hurt people with them.”

She could feel the anger rolling off Sophia as her fists shook.

“But if you’re feeling lucky, go ahead.” The Pathstrider challenged her, leaning closer until their faces were inches apart. “You’ll have to get through me first. And you saw what I did to Hookwolf; you heard what I did to Lung.” She crinkled her eyes just enough to show she was smiling under her veil. “You don’t scare me anymore. Test me here, and I’ll give you a reason to be afraid.”

Sophia was a thug who thought herself a predator. Just a bully who got off making other people cower but was too afraid to fight people stronger than her. Someone who fought from a distance and then ran and hid with her power. The girl who had tormented her was little more than a gnat compared to the monsters she fought on the regular.

But there was one thing that still tethered her to Sophia, and that was the anger and resentment she felt for her, born from the cruel and pointless bullying she had endured at her hands.

And most of all, for having corrupted Emma into that.

Taylor had no reason to be afraid of her, and made it clear that if she wanted to, she could easily beat her. She could have turned her to the PRT, let them know everything she did, including the stuff unrelated to her. It’d be so easy… but that wasn’t how Taylor wanted to win.

She wanted Sophia to see her become a much greater hero than her. Wanted her to know she was better and stronger.

Sophia knew that too; she knew how powerful she was. That her abilities and ruthlessness could only do so much against her Pathstrider powers, so she let her stew on that knowledge. Let her know she had no power here, much less over.

That was Taylor’s victory.

“You think you got all the cards, huh?” Sophia shot back. “What if I tell the PRT you can look into people’s heads? They’d be changing their tune about you fast.”

“You could.” Taylor acknowledged. “But you’ll still go down with me.”

After a tense stare-down that fell like a small eternity, Sophia snorted.

“So, this is who you are now? Fuck the rules and do what you want.” She slowly nodded. “Okay… okay, I can get behind that. So I’m gonna keep what happened here today a secret.”

Was that respect in her voice? Ugh, Taylor felt dirty again…

“Of course you will.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Oh, my gooooood!” Tattletale let out a long, suffering groan. “Will you quit it with the drama?! I got a teammate possessed by a dream demon here!” She let her head drop to the side and gave Stalker an unimpressed look. “Flirt in your own time!”

Okay, now she felt filthy…

Stalker sputtered a few times, and Taylor shuddered in disgust. The vigilante’s hand went to her crossbow for a moment, really tempted to shoot Tattletale, before storming off. “Fuck you!” She shouted. “You ever tell anyone I was here and you’re dead!”

“Always a pleasure, So- Stalker.” Taylor deadpanned, stumbling over her words for a moment before correcting herself.

Sophia flipped her off as she left, soon disappearing from sight.

“She was so attracted to you there.” Tattletale quipped. “Standing up to her must have felt great for you too, huh?”

“You,” Taylor pointed a finger at her. “Zip it.” She grumbled, trying to purge that knowledge from her mind. She sighed and knelt next to Bitch once more. “Okay, when she wakes up, make sure she’s comfortable. Do you need help taking her somewhere safe?”

“Already texted my teammates; they’re on their way,” Tattletale said. “I’ll need a way to contact you. PHO, maybe?”

Taylor nodded. “Fine by me. I’m going to talk to my teacher, see what I can do to remove this memosprite without harming her mind. Contact me when she wakes up, keep me informed on her state. Then we’ll meet up so I can look her over again.”

“…You’re really going to help her,” Tattletale said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. The Thinker knew Taylor was honest, but was still surprised by it. “Just like that.”

“I’m not happy about helping a criminal, but… I dunno,” She shrugged. “I guess there’s more to it than that.”

Things weren’t so black and white. But Taylor wanted to help this girl; maybe that was reason enough. She was certain Mem would do the same.

Without knowing where to go, or how to even contact the others, Hannah defaulted to a basic rule one has to follow when getting lost: stay put and organize.

Thankfully, her current location wasn’t that endless hall of doors, but another bar in the Tavern. At least this one had a calmer atmosphere, looking a bit more rustic, like a cabin in the woods. Complete with hunting trophies.

Although those were kinda silly too. This was the World’s End Tavern after all. Some of those trophies were giant burgers with teeth and pizza monsters.

There was also a particularly large alien-looking fish hanging from a wall, moving like an animatronic and singing ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy’.

Hannah didn’t even question how they had gotten that song. If there was something she learned in this little expedition is that the universe was a silly place, and nothing made sense.

“Ahhh, this is my favorite locale of the taverns.”

The man, Ashveil, mused to himself contentedly, leaning back into his chair and placing his hand over the table. He waved at a waitress, or what Hannah assumed to be a waitress. A female-looking alien with digitigrade legs and three fingers on each hand, she had a ridged forehead, looking like a crown of bone spikes, with dread-like tendrils growing behind it and acting like hair. “Tsh’ka, my girl! How have you been?”

“Well, look what the dog dragged in.” The alien said with mirth. “You know, you abuse your special pass. We don’t really allow non-members here that often, and you appear every other week”

“Bah! Since when have you Fools cared about your own rules, Tsh’ka?” The man grinned at her. “Besides, I think I’ve earned my special visitor privilege. And I wouldn’t pass up a chance to see you.” He winked at her.

The alien snorted in amusement. “Get you your usual?”

“Two glasses, one for my guest here.” He nodded at Hannah. “Special visitor like me, but she got separated from her friend with the Mask.”

“Ooof, big mistake.” Tsh’ka cringed. “The Tavern likes to mess with people who aren’t used to it.”

“This place is alive?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Hannah merely hung her head. “I don’t know…” She didn’t know anything anymore.

“So, your Fool got a name? Or she goes by emojis?” She asked it so straight-faced that Hannah doubted it was actually a joke.

“Maybe you’ll know her as Mouse Protector.”

“Ehh, lacks panache.” The alien shrugged. “But who am I to judge. I’ll send it a text chain, let her know we’ve got a lost kid here.” She nodded at Ashveil. “Be back with your drinks soon.”

The black-and-white-haired man nodded in gratitude before smiling over to Hannah. “So, Miss Militia, was it?”

“My codename, yes.”

“Hmm,” He gave her a look-over. “Military.” He surmised from her outfit.

“Law enforcement, actually.”

“Was my second guess.” He shrugged. “Seems we have something in common.”

“You’re in law enforcement too?”

“Kinda.” He had a proud glint in his eye. “I’m a private detective.”

Private detective. She wouldn’t have pegged him for once after…

The voracious maws coming from the walls, devouring the crooks whole.

The eyes. THE EYES.

The cape gazed nervously at the man sitting in front of her. He had been kind enough to help her navigate the Tavern, getting her to another branch at least, where they could contact her companions. She was grateful for his generosity, but a part of her couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the things she witnessed.

That arm of his kept giving her the most ominous feeling. It looked partly artificial, and those red lines like cracks seemed to hum with barely restrained energy…

“Don’t worry.” He noticed her stare, raised his arm, and wiggled his fingers. Militia heard the soft clink of metal in them. “It’s perfectly safe; there are various seals in place to keep it locked inside.”

“What was it?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“Something you might not want to know about, trust me.” He said in a serious tone. “It’s better if you don’t.”

Hannah pursed her lips under her bandanna. “Are private detectives just allowed to kill criminals here?” It came out more hostile than she intended, but she couldn’t deny it rubbed her the wrong way.

“Depends on the planet. Planarcadian authorities won’t care if a few gangsters or criminals are taken out of the street so long as you report it. Then they’ll decide if it was murder or ‘public service”

“Sounds like a lawless place.”

“Its laws are far more loose than other worlds, yeah.” Ashveil shrugged. “One of the reasons I stay here, it doesn’t interfere much with my work.”

“And the other reasons?” She asked out of curiosity.

“Ah, not nearly drunk enough to mention them yet. Speaking of,” He smiled as Tsh’ka came back with a large bottle and two beer cups for them.

“Went ahead and gave you top-shelf.” The alien grinned. “Consider it a thank you for taking out a tasteless Roaster.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite, Tsh’ka.” He grinned and began pouring.

“Also, I sent word.” She said to Militia. “Your friend will be here soon.”

Militia sighed in relief. “My thanks.”

The alien nodded in return and went back to her barkeeping duties. Militia looked at the liquid being poured into her cup; it looked like a rusty-red, and it was bubbly. She didn’t have any idea what it was, but the human-looking alien in front of her seemed to enjoy it with the way he took a swing.

“Ahhh, Rencorian Beer. My favorite.” He cleaned his lips with his sleeve. “Don’t be shy, it’s my treat!”

Militia thought about it for a moment before remembering she still had her mask on. “Hard to drink with this.” She pointed at her bandanna.

“Can’t take it off?”

“We have a secret identity structure back home, so…”

“Hmm, nobody here knows you, though.” He pointed out. “I doubt any patron here is from your home planet.”

That… was true.

And she did need a drink after the mess. But she still felt like she shouldn’t do it. The unwritten rules of cape culture were deeply ingrained into her for a reason. But did those rules even mean something here? She was who knows how many light-years away from Earth, and she was completely certain none of the humans here were actually from Earth (she still didn’t know how that worked).

She finally sighed and took off her bandanna, feeling very exposed for a moment before she grabbed the beer cup and gave it a taste. It surprised her; the beverage had a ‘bite’ to it but not in a bad way. Had an ‘earthy’ bitterness, if she were to describe it. “Oh, it’s… not bad, really.”

She expected a reaction from Ashveil; instead, he gave her a look she couldn’t quite describe. There was surprise, yet also recognition, with nostalgia and regret rolled into one.

“Is everything okay?” She asked.

“Ah!” He snapped out of his reverie. “Sorry, it’s just…” He paused. “You remind me of someone I knew.” He took a larger swig of his beer, as if needing the courage right now. He sighed as he slammed it down, half empty now. “The cosmos is a marvelous and bizarre place; patterns repeat, events echo, and sometimes… sometimes old friends appear in the faces of strangers.” He trailed off, looking at her but also not at the same time.

Hannah was silent; she didn’t know how to respond to that.

“That’s why you and I are human, why so many worlds have humans in them, Miss Militia.” He explained, waving a finger between the two of them. “The Imaginary Tree likes to repeat ‘successful’ blueprints.”

She barely had an understanding of what he was talking about; it felt like a really high concept that went over her head.

So, she settled on what she could understand. “I look like someone you knew.”

“A long time ago.” He said, and Militia felt that ‘long’ stretched for a while. “So long it doesn’t warrant burdening you with that story.”

If he didn’t want to share, that was fine; Militia wasn’t going to press.

“So, secret identities.” He brought up, quickly changing the subject. “You a superhero or something?"

"I am," She said. "My… planet has those.” She shrugged.

“Heh! You’re not the only one, nor the first. I’ve been on my fair share of worlds where people don a mask and decide to fight crime.”

“Huh.”

“Universe is big, Miss. And as I said, it can feel very familiar at times.” He chuckled, taking another sip from his beer. “So, what’s your homeworld called?”

Hannah followed suit, finding she was growing to like this beverage. “My planet is called Earth.”

“Hmm.” He merely nodded and blinked at her confused look. “What?”

“Oh, I was just expecting more of a reaction. Like, we basically named our planet ‘dirt’…”

“Lady, I once got lost on a planet where the trees are made of some sort of flesh-like bark, and it has seas of methane. You know what the inhabitants called it? Bob,” He shrugged and shook his head incredulously. “Just… Bob. The fact you named your planet Earth is not the weirdest thing out there.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

He moved on. “So, Miss Militia of Earth. What brings a non-fool to the Tavern?”

“Well, my friend and coworker became a Pathstrider of the Elation and got a Mask.” She explained, a touch exasperated. “She got invited to join the Fools, and my government decided it’d be a good opportunity to make first contact with alien civilizations through them.”

Ashveil just burst out laughing. “Seriously?! The name ‘Masked Fools’ didn’t tip you off to how this could go?!” He just kept laughing, placing a hand over his eyes as he leaned all the way back into his chair.

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea!” Hannah huffed. “Though I admit I didn’t think they’d be like this…”

The detective swiped a tear from his eye. “Oh WOW, you people are isolated, huh? Never had any proper first contact before?”

“None that we know of.”

“Well, my sincere sympathies. Your people back home are going to be incredibly disappointed.”

“Yeah,” Militia sighed. “I can’t believe Mouse joined this group. She’s always doing these things on a whim…”

“Your Masked friend.” He surmised, clearly recalling what Militia told that Tsh’ka alien. “Sounds fitting.” He shrugged.

“It’s a mess. She’s made things so complicated for people back home.” She grumbled. “She promised she’d follow the rules more closely this time. So of course, we had to bench her after this little incident, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s going out on patrol and investigating criminals without authorization.”

“Sounds like you two are quite the pair,” He chuckled. “You’re a stickler for the rules, and she’s… well, she’s a Masked Fool; I believe that sums her up pretty well despite me not knowing her.”

Hmph, he had no idea how accurate he was.

“And this clearly bothers you,” He brought up.

Was she really going to open up to an alien man she had just witnessed killing several people with some unearthly power? One that spawned a voracious force from beyond the void whose EYES-!

Hannah took a longer sip of her beer.

“It bothers me because she can still accomplish a lot without being so cavalier about anything.” Maybe the drink was getting to her, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “And at the same time, it infuriates me because… I don’t want her to be different.”

Ashveil nodded, prompting her to continue.

“Because if she wasn’t so cavalier, or so disrespectful to authority, she wouldn’t be Mouse. And if she wasn’t Mouse, then I wouldn’t…” She paused.

But the man was a detective, and a good one at that, because he picked up on the words unsaid. “And you have history together. Old friends? Partners? No, more than that, you wouldn’t be so upset otherwise.” He snapped his fingers and grinned. “Old flame.”

Well, Hannah was getting a grudging respect for his intuition.

“We broke up years ago.” She explained. “She wanted to strike out on her own, and I didn’t. I remained with our organization.”

“But something happened, and now she’s back to working with you guys again.” He surmised. “And it’s causing friction.”

“I’m not sure if it’s… friction.”

“Oh?”

“She asked me if we could try again. And I… said I was willing to give it a chance. Just, go slowly.” Her fingers rubbed over the glass, staring into its nearly empty liquor as it wobbled around. “Mouse has this way of making me look at the world differently, and it made me question things I shouldn’t. We have laws and rules for a reason; it’s not perfect, but it’s better than going vigilante without backup or any structures keeping you and yours safe.”

“Well, I’m not going to get into an argument about that.” He muttered. “Really not the person to comment on it. So you two basically disagreed over how to lead your lives.”

Hannah slowly nodded. “When I was with Mouse, it’s like I could feel myself turning into a different person. More willing to bend the rules and just ‘go with the flow,’ as she would put it. God’s sake, look at me now; it’s still happening. We’re supposed to be on a security detail for an ambassador, and she convinced me to go out dancing in the middle of our mission. And now here I am drinking alien beer and talking about my personal life with a stranger. No offense.”

“Weirder things have happened.” He shrugged.

“I just turn into someone else when I’m with her, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

“Why would it be a bad thing either?”

Militia looked up to him in surprise.

Ashveil shrugged as he refilled their glasses. “You say you turn into someone else when you’re with her. But that’s not entirely true, is it? You do those things because you wanted to do it with her. So can they be wrong?”

“There is a time and place…”

“There is never a time and place.” He shook his head, putting so much emphasis on his words as he believed them with all his heart. “If you go your life doing what you think you should do, then one day you’ll look back and miss every opportunity you let slip through your fingers.” He sighed, raising his glass to his lips. “I speak from experience; when you get to be my age, your regrets are the things you remember the most.

Hannah pursed her lips. “You don’t really look old.”

“Heh,” He chuckled ruefully. “Trust me, Miss. I’m far older than you think.”

That… was said so ominously that Hannah felt she shouldn’t ask.

“So you feel like a different person when you’re with your girl. Big deal. We’re all different people when we’re surrounded by those we love. Our friends, our lovers, our family, our enemies- they all shape us in ways we can’t see. But at the end of the day, we are the ones who define who we are. The core of who you are remains because it’s your ideals, your actions. I hardly know a single person in this universe who remains the same throughout their lives.”

There was wisdom there. But Hannah wasn’t brave enough to test those things. She hadn’t been brave enough to become independent with Mouse because the Protectorate brought a sense of safety and purpose she had so desperately needed back then. She had been so grateful for the life she had been given that she dedicated it to upholding those ideals.

At the end of the day, Mouse believed in them too, even if she went about a different way to see them through. Militia had not dared to go beyond the confines of the Protectorate because she felt they were the best way to preserve peace and order in the US. She had built her life around the Protectorate, and questioned if she could still be Miss Militia without it.

But… God help her, she had missed Mouse. She had missed her so much. She wanted her in her life. She wanted to be in her presence, to hear her laugh and her bad jokes. To feel the warmth only she could bring into her life.

Circumstances allowed the two to try again, not any action on Militia’s part. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to make sure this time they could work.

Maybe Ashveil was right. Maybe Jennifer too had changed in small ways because of her influence. So it was only natural that Hannah changed a bit as well.

It wouldn’t be a bad thing if it meant the two could be together this time.

Ashveil looked at his phone after it pinged. “Welp, I should get going now.” He stood up and picked up his cane and hat. “Was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Militia.”

“Thank you, Mister Ashveil.” She replied. “For before and… for this.”

“If you people ever need to bring in an outside consultant.” With a flourish, he literally pulled out a card from his sleeve and handed it to her. “The Ashen Detective Agency can always lend a hand.”

There was a wolf’s head stamped on the card with a stylistic design. Along with letters written in a language Militia didn’t understand. She placed it in her pocket. “I’ll keep it in mind.” She smiled, tying her bandanna back into place.

“Give your friend a chance,” Ashveil said as he walked away. “I’m sure you’ll work things out, Hana.”

Miss Militia froze, shooting him a stunned look. He knew her name. He knew her name.

And not only that. The way he pronounced it, that specific, almost imperceptible way. Imperceptible to anyone but Hannah. And with a faint inflection that sounded almost kurdish...

“How do you know my name?”

“Heh, I’m a detective.” Ashveil looked over his shoulder back at her, once more with nostalgia and regret. “I guessed.” He shrugged and walked away, his cane tapping the floor with each step.

He turned the corner in the hallway and disappeared from view, leaving Militia alone to stew in her shock.

It did not last long, for Jennifer’s voice suddenly reached her ears. Frantic and worried. “Mills!” Two strong arms grabbed her shoulders and hugged her from behind. “I lost sight of you on the dance floor! I’m so so so SO sorry! This place is a damn maze; I didn’t know where you went and-!”

“It’s fine, I’m okay.” She assured her, patting her arm a few times. “Come on, I think this mission went on long enough. Think you can find our way home?”

“Um, y-yeah. I think I got a good layout of the place on my way here.”

“Then let’s go then.” She stood up and grabbed Jennifer’s hand. A simple act that seemed to bring so much joy to her dear troublemaker. “But no more dancing during work hours, got it?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am!”

“Good. I want a proper date when we get back home.”

That smile was wide, toothy, so silly… and Hannah adored it.

She still needed to report this incident… but she could keep a few things to herself that their bosses didn’t need to know.

"Infected with a memetic concept…” Constance mused to herself as she stirred her tea.

She and Taylor were sitting in an elegant, if gloomy-looking, tea house in memospace. She had recalled the events surrounding Bitch. “How could that have happened? Unless there is another Remembrance Pathstrider going around, Memospace shouldn’t be imprinting itself into people like that, right?”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t.” Constance agreed, leaning back in her chair. “And from what you described, the memetic concept of a beast was deeply engraved into that girl’s psyche. That sort of thing should not happen unless there is outside interference by someone who knows what they’re doing and has the means and power.”

“I have to be looking for another Pathstrider of the Remembrance…” She mused, worried at the prospect of someone with the same abilities, but using them in that horrible way. But a thought occurred to Taylor. “Wait, what about that rupture in the ‘wall’ back in Memospace?” She got Constance’s attention. “It’s flooding memoria into Earth’s collective psyche. Could a malign entity have been born from it and attached itself to Bitch?”

“It… is possible.” The Memokeeper mused. “All that memoria flooding in is bound to create more things like that ‘witch’ you fought. Perhaps this ‘beast’ attached itself to Bitch’s dreams because of the resonance the two share. You did say her psyche was very compatible with the beast meme.”

“God,” Taylor breathed out in concern. “The thought of those things manifesting in real space is-“

“I know,” Constance assured her. “I’m working on ways to mend that fracture. But until then, we need to remain vigilant. Memoria gathering in such a torrential amount and manifesting into the physical realm can be disastrous. It’s up to us to make sure the situation doesn’t deteriorate any further.”

Right, that was her duty as a hero who walked the Remembrance. She had to keep her city safe, in the way only she could. The PRT and Protectorate just weren’t equipped to handle this. It fell to Constance and Taylor.

“Perhaps it would be prudent to keep the PRT informed?” Constance offered.

“I don’t want them knowing about my mind-viewing powers. They’ll try to get me to join the Wards even more.” The government did not have a good view of Thinkers like her for a reason; they’d most likely label her a dangerous Master because of what she could do. And Taylor wasn’t willing to take that risk. “Besides, I can’t tell them I’m helping a criminal. They won’t care about the circumstances.”

Bitch’s history was complicated, from what she could glimpse. And ugh, did Taylor feel like a voyeur doing that, but she would need to venture deeper if it meant removing that memosprite from her mind. She got the feeling she wouldn’t be too happy about it… but hopefully not angry enough to cause her to transform again and rip her to shreds.

Speaking of, “Do you think I’m ready to handle that… exorcism?” She trailed off, unsure if that was the right term in this instance.

Constance gave her a small smile. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“I… want to be.”

“Then go for it. Trust your instincts. And do the best you can.” Constance sipped her tea. “I will, however, call into question your performance with Hookwolf.”

“I thought I handled it fine.” Taylor shrugged.

“From what you told me, you relied mostly on your constructs and only delved into a freer use of the Remembrance out of desperation.” Constance chided her in a very teacher-like manner. “Your use of your powers is being very limited, Taylor.”

“My constructs from Amphoreus are the most stable.” She argued defensively. “Because the book resonates with me.”

“Because that’s where your imagination takes you.” Constance argued. “Taylor, you’re a Pathstrider of the Remembrance. A dedicated Pathstrider, not just someone who pulls on its power because you align with it. You awoke to it, and you delve into its mysteries like a Pathstrider dedicated to its ways.” She leaned forward, putting her teacup to the side and joining her hands together. “Pathstriders like us, our power is limited only by memory and imagination. And I believe it’s time you start expanding yours.”

She waved her hand, and books began floating all around them. Books of every size and genre, containing so many stories, concepts, and ideas.

“Amphoreus gave you the starting point, but you need to grow. Expand your knowledge, use the Remembrance as it should be used, through concepts and ideas.”

“So, I should… read more?” Taylor asked.

“You need to open your mind to the possibilities of the Remembrance. A Path is only as strong as your dedication to it.”

Taylor paused as she pondered on her words. There was some truth to it. She remembered the time she summoned Phainon’s sword Dawnmaker. It had been strong enough to cut through Lung at his strongest because of the conceptual weight behind it. Taylor was certain it wasn’t as powerful as the real thing, but it worked. Not because she had summoned it from the memories of Amphoreus, but because she used her will and mind to make it strong.

It was the same way she had conjured elements, using the ‘ideas’ of said elements to bring them into reality.

Much as she adored As I’ve Written and the impact it had on her life, Taylor understood she had to expand her repertoire and not rely on them so much. Otherwise, that strength would become a crutch.

She wanted to be the sort of Pathstrider that would make Mem proud. The type of hero she herself could be proud of.