The void of so many sojourns returned once more. Samantha was merged with the Fortuneteller once more, caught into a familiar and strange body lodged out of time and space. One might deduce it a ‘higher place,’ and perhaps they’d be right on some level, but it didn’t quite feel that way. It felt separated. Off. Outside everything else.

  There was no ‘figure’ before her, much less Dax. A long table stretched, appearing as if fit for a banquet, with a red tablecloth draping stitched in golden scrollwork on the edges. Gaudy, elaborate gold containers, cups, pots, and decorations covered it all the way down, most of it with little humanoid figurines in various ‘acts’ of war, conflict, and sex. All otherwise empty, without food.

  In the center, a huge golden platform rose, with two highly-detailed, nude figurines — idealized, athletic male and female human forms — holding up a beautiful bouquet of multicolored roses and leaves.

  Around the platform's base was a flat, wide circle entirely around it, gold trimmed but with a center half-black, half-white. Separate stitching was made into the table cloth, of two question mark symbols going either direction from the center, making it the ‘point’ bottom of each.

  Only two chairs were present, each at the ends of the table — both were golden and gaudy, like small thrones. One was studded with sapphires, the other with rubies and slightly fancier and bigger. It was more angular as well compared to the rounded curviness of the other.

  Floating over the seat of the ruby throne was a metallic orb, split diagonally between two colored halves, one of gold and one of… it was a red metal she both did not recognize and knew in some way, as another cosmic substance.

  There was no obvious physical tell, but the orb was absolutely a great, alien presence — an eye or facet of a higher entity.

  Vile and despicable pretender. Bitter spikes of hatred within the Fortuneteller, all directed at the orb. To the eternal question and contest, ‘Who shall betray us?’ — This one is always in the running. Oh dear…

  A powerful voice rang out. “The Incarnation is in control, I see. Adorable.” It was shockingly mature and masculine, made for crisp, carrying command with majestic undercurrents. “Sit. Discussion is not proper or attractive this way.”

  “You dare to command me?” The response was a little of Sammy and the FT combined.

  There was no response. The orb waited.

  Checkmate? Ugh. Grimacing, Sammy made the reluctant and resistant body of the FT go to her chair and sit, maintaining precise poise. Nonetheless, Sammy blurted, “You’re a guy?! What the hell?! And where is Dax?!”

  “Hahahaha…” Rich, extensive laughter resounded through the false reality. The orb ‘bobbed’ and spun once. As it did, the masculine laughter warped and shifted, bridging into something inhuman and androgynous… then shifted into a more ‘human’ androgynous… then again into one that was entirely feminine.

  It was much like a high-class noblewoman tittering at a peasant’s antics. “Ahahahaha! Is this more to your liking, simian? You think our true selves are limited to a quaint organic-genetic halving strategy? On-off, on-off, off-on, a lizard. On-off, off-on, off-on, a bloody harpsichord! None of us are this or that primitive three-dimensional construct — those are just toys born of imaginative dreams. Or nightmares. Your errored Concord locked us into this repetition. Fun at first. What is more fun than a limited pool? But it got so fucking old. Stale.”

  The orb spun again. The voice changed back to masculine as it made a scoffing sound. “Get it through that thick brain case of yours: we are gods. Of course, we play god. Sometimes too far. We’ve gone so far that we’ve tortured ourselves. A bitter irony we need to stretch ourselves the fuck out of.”

  Sammy found herself blinking at the tirade. He-she… it had a point. Human limitations were pointless to ascribe to these entities, as they existed ‘beyond.’ It was still a very uncomfortable reality to consider that ‘who they were’ in a consistent sense between lives or even ‘clusters of lives’ was also a farce somehow. Sammy/the Director/the Fortuneteller felt definitively feminine, for example, as did Azure/Lovie.

  FT, can I actually trust this entity to be telling the truth? Not particularly. But you know what we are. Don’t expect us to have conversations with you about identity beyond. Get there and find out. I see.

  Sammy decided to punt that anxiety. Distrust was a good policy when the FT basically advised it about someone. “And what about Dax? Can she hear all of this disturbing crap?”

  “I don’t operate like the rest of you idiots. I don’t bleed into my Incarnation except where I feel like it. I maintain control. I’m not unstable, either. The short of the answer is thus: no, she isn’t here. I’ll blank her out until the vision is complete — she will see that, of course. Otherwise, she doesn’t need to know what she is. It wouldn’t be good. Far more segue is needed.”

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  “We don’t exactly have that kind of time…” Sammy found herself frowning at the orb. “She’s not your fucking puppet, though. I don’t appreciate what I’m hearing about your handling of her.”

  Scoffing, dismissive laughter. “Ha! I don’t fucking care what you appreciate or don’t. Sometimes I do things for the exact opposite: to annoy you. Like using this voice, for instance.”

  Sammy was fully scowling now. “Are you even planning on helping me? Are you going to sabotage me?”

  A sound of annoyance. “Hrgh! Does your Incarnation have to be this stupid, [Progress]?! If I was going to betray you, I wouldn’t have even revealed myself. Trust my motive, for fuck’s sake. I am tired. I want this to end. Trying to win it all for me has failed a thousand ways, as vaguely coalesce in my impressions. The game is broken. Unlike King Traitor himself, I learn from my mistakes and when novelty exhausts itself, I give up. If I’m not having fun, fuck the game.” The orb spun and the voice changed to feminine. “So here I am, bitch!”

  Taking a deep breath, Sammy decided she’d ‘high road’ instead of stooping to such childishness. “At least you switched to the feminine for that.”

  “Of course. I’m a lot of things, but not sexist!” The voice switched back to masculine as it added, “You’re welcome, toots.” Riotous laughter, obviously entertained by its own absurdity. “Haha! By your face, I see that translated effectively, gyahahaha!”

  Sammy sighed and shook her head slightly. What an oaf. Don’t tell me Dax and Zadkiel would get along. Please- They would.

  Another sigh — this time, somehow from both her and the FT at once.

  Sammy realized something. It made her slap the table with both hands and glare at the orb. “You! You’re the one who put Dax in the Pantheon, aren’t you?! You influenced her!”

  “Ahhh… such petty hatred. I was hoping that due to how stupid you are you’d take longer to realize it. But this is nice enough. Like a little cupcake to savor and remember the meeting by. Appropriate.”

  Sneering, Sammy and the FT held their tongue, mostly not to give their rival the satisfaction.

  The orb spun, shifted to a feminine voice, and continued. “I’ve got to find some entertainment somehow. It just isn’t much of a game at this point — otherwise, I’d gamble like you. Some great sex and companionship are on the horizon soon, at least. Thanks for the helping hand. You know more than anyone what it feels like to savor those deep, deep bonds soaring across time unfurling. Intimacy ramping and ramping! Mmmmn…”

  Sammy felt her fists clench as she glared murderous daggers.

  Once more, the orb shifted its voice back to masculine. “What are we without bonds? We need each other to exist. I protect what’s mine, don’t worry. In fact, we manipulated each other in this — exchanged dominion as the purest of trades. I had to have an equal price, my dear. To have me, I had to have you. So you poured out your soul and fashioned your finest light to give me a piece of yourself, to bond me and graft me in. Like a hostage in primitive feudal worlds!” The voice became feminine. “You took great amusement in it being like a son, where I and all would expect another daughter. Amusing and appropriate irony again.”

  Canmore? A son? Yes. Be thankful one as nice as Dax takes him in this world. Nice, at least, while she remains minimally corrupted by this one.

  Deliberately unclenching her fists, Sammy replied, “You’re a sick, sick fuck and I hate you.”

  Masculine laughter as the voice shifted. “Yeees. But so is the inner you, hmm? To make the deal? I can tell this vexes you! A whole cake today, after all! I hate you too, dear, as you hate me.” Despite the words, it was strangely affectionate. “But, who have you so chained to your throne?” There was a feeling of building gravitas from the words; a shift in the air. “Who am I?”

  The question, echoing with significance, was a powerful trigger. With many little bursts of flame, cards appeared and spun around the central platform. Smoking and half burnt, they scattered themselves all over the divided black and white surface.

  “Did you just…?” Sammy asked with an alarmed gasp.

  “It’s time, sister,” the orb declared solemnly. “You must assimilate the information available and make a judgment. Choose a card, choose me, and decide Calrenazzod’s fate. The sixth part of the hand or doom, you are the harbinger, as you brokered. As the Concord bends.”

  Sammy stared back at the orb in annoyance. “We weren’t done with that conversation.”

  “I ensured otherwise! Make your selection, Incarnation. I shouldn’t have to tell you it isn’t random in this case. But, in my case, to keep it interesting? No face reveals. Hahaha!”

  As if I need them.

  Frowning, Sammy stared at the burnt, scattered cards. She telekinetically made them all move more in order, spaced out on the outer edge of the circle. With that done, she considered the matter in silence for a bit.

  How do I square this personality? Fun? Who’s fun in a super diabolical way? I don’t think the Fool is available, and so much else doesn’t really fit with this stupid orb. Domineering, plotting, self-possessed… independent? An orb. Half gold, half red. Obviously, that means something. The table fit for royalty…

  An orb was common to wizards. The Magician also had red and gold on the card, red robes, and a gold chalice. Confidence, passion, power, communication… it was ticking a ton of things. But… it ticked nothing at all in Dax, a woman as far from ‘magician’ as possible. Was Sammy supposed to assume them totally separate, as the orb entity showed and admitted? It didn’t seem right, nor should she trust everything said. ‘No bleed’ from a super arrogant entity? No way.

  The Sun had red and gold, and some potential good cases for Dax… marriage, soul mates. Inner child. Authenticity. Generosity. Simple pleasures. But nothing jived with the inner entity aside from its childishness and lust. Plus, all had been ‘figures’ so far, for the most part. The Sun card image had a cocky naked child on a white horse, though.

  Fuck my life! This is the toughest one yet…

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