What is wrong, my Persephone? That voice echoed in my head, making me jolt in surprise. It came through bright and clear this time. A direct line from Leviathan himself—not like before, when he’d told me to sing. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It paid to be careful what you wished for. Had I wanted someone to speak to so badly that I’d opened up a telepathic link to Leviathan?
I shook my head. Is this a trick? You can’t be in my head—you’re at the SDC. I went away so you couldn’t do this anymore.
I felt your pain and came to ease it. You should not suffer like this. His words were alarmingly soft and soothing. Exactly what I needed, but from the wrong person.
I picked up the pillow and wrapped it around my head, like that would do any good. This isn’t possible. You’re an ocean away.
I pressed my hands harder against my ears, pushing further into the pillow. None of this made any sense. When he’d told me to sing, that voice had been far away, like a message that had been left some time ago. But this came through crystal clear and gut-wrenchingly present. Unless… everyone had been wrong about how far our connection could reach. Like the Purges, maybe it took extreme emotion to get the link to work like this, my anguish and misery somehow forcing the transmission across greater distances. The possibility stunned me for a second, equal parts terrifying and incredible.
Do you want me to leave? He let the words linger in my skull, putting the ball firmly in my court. Part of me wondered if he would actually go, if I told him to.
I’m not sure, I replied. He might have been the monster who’d done this to me, but he was the only person I had right then. And, sometimes, something was better than nothing.
He chuckled quietly. Then I will stay until you decide.
I didn’t know what to talk to him about. He wanted to know if I was okay, but he likely already knew the answer, or he wouldn’t have struck up a telepathic conversation in the middle of a nervous breakdown. So, I did the only thing I could do. I put the pillow back down and watched the sunrise, the vivid orange and sunflower yellow splintering the aquamarine sky.
What are you doing, my Persephone? he asked.
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. Watching the sun come up and fretting about my friend and the pixies I Purged.
He made a noise of intrigue. Pixies? How thrilling. I have not seen their kind in many a year.
So everyone keeps saying. I sighed, closing my eyes to the brightness.
You do not care for them?
No… I do. That’s why I’m sitting here, locked in a room. Eyes squeezing tighter, enveloping me in a self-darkened world, a few questions popped into my head. Ones only he would be able to answer. Is there a reason I didn’t Purge for five days?
I thought I heard him shrug. Your ability does not want to kill you. It wants you to succeed. It was likely allowing you to recover from your last Purge.
Oh, so it played nice then it made me Purge a horde. I puffed air between my teeth. Not what I’d call considerate.
Has it killed you? Has it destroyed you? As you are speaking, I think not, he replied with a muffled chuckle. He was clearly enjoying himself.
Another question pressed at the forefront of my mind. Would there be a reason a monster couldn’t turn into black mist if I held it in my hands? I caught one and it was like it… couldn’t get away, but the ones I didn’t get a hold of had no problem misting out of reach.
You created them. Your touch is powerful. They may feel dutybound to maintain their physical form if you make contact with one, until you release them again, he explained. Although perhaps it would be better if you told me everything. I must have full understanding of these developments.
I flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while I told him the whole story. I had nothing better to do, and part of me hoped he might be able to give me some more advice, or a snippet of information that would help in the grander scheme of things. I wouldn’t be able to convince Victoria, of course, but it might clear things up, once and for all, in my own mind. If I knew my path was just, it’d spur me to continue. Twisting the sheets around my index finger, I decided to add the bit about the glass-box dream to explain why I was constantly on edge.
A perplexing thought came to me, halfway through the story. Hang on… Did you have something to do with that dream? If you did, you can leave my head right now and never come back! He’d put dreams into my head before, after all.
Leviathan sighed, as though he were sad. I did not. You may choose to disbelieve me, but I assure you I had no part in it. I give only pleasant dreams that I construct carefully. Fear created this. I understand the feeling within it—it is your worst nightmare, literally and figuratively. And your fears are justified. No one else can understand your situation; no one but me. People are terrified of what they cannot comprehend. They choose to imprison it, instead.
He needed a lesson or two in how to be comforting. I didn’t want to hear that my loved ones could turn against me, or that my fears were justified. I wanted him to tell me that it meant nothing—just an anxiety dream that had no basis whatsoever in reality. But this was Leviathan talking, and he had all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. Plus, I didn’t know if I actually believed him. He sounded sincere, but that didn’t
