Spread throughout the vastness of an uncaring and unknowing cosmos, threads of intertwined purpose stretch and sing.

  Endless possibility extending and swirling, meaningless yet significant, an artist’s endless stroke which brushes every being.

  Within the continuous smear, are pigments found, each a unique and unknowable shade. A single fragment which itself is pointless; indivisible from the whole.

  The thread of the tapestry which is both within context and the definer itself. The reference and the constant in swirling chaos, the inquisitive mind’s lone sanctuary.

  It is one such insignificant speck which draws the focus of the grand cosmos, a young Willow yet to be tested by the storm’s fury.

  

  Naomi

  Thoroughfare 3, Passenger Hold, Wesnmen’s Coallition Trading Barge

  

  Striding down one of the many empty corridors, Prism listened to her dress’ soft swishing. The soul-bound item unconcerned with the solemnity of her squad’s current task. They were on patrol for the third day in a row, searching for dissidents. So far, they had gathered up several dozen beings who had been implicated in the coup attempt.

  In only two days and some change, the brig was nearly full to capacity. Oddly, everyone they caught quickly became disillusioned and compliant. They agreed with every accusation levied against them without protest, failing to even beg or plead.

  At first, Jemer had been confused and suspicious of this strange behavior which Prism dutifully appeared to share. Her mistrust faded in the face of burning outrage earlier today. She’d personally interviewed one of their more recent prisoners, one who had shown more spirit and even demanded to be released.

  The captain confided what she had learned to Prism between her second and third patrol. The goblin had been raving and screaming about mind control. Apparently, System had an insight related to twisting the minds of others and was forcing his desire for an uprising on the rest of the crew. Prism admitted she wasn’t certain what System’s true capabilities were. She’d only known him for a few months before they were marooned on the desolate planet of Savria, after all.

  After a bit of pressing, she had reluctantly admitted that she’d felt a strange reluctance to join Jemer despite knowing it was the most logical course of action. The admission had been the last piece of the puzzle which convinced Jemer of Prism’s sincere desire to join her crew permanently. It had also lead to her putting a drastically higher priority on capturing System.

  The impression Prism got from the massive red orc, through the gossamer-thin weave of her mana which swirled near-permanently within Jemer’s body, was one of fear. It was clear she had a deep seated terror of being controlled. Prism was uncertain whether Jemer’s phobia was the result of her own ability to plant strong suggestions, or if her ability was a defensive reaction. In either case, the emotional response was to her and System’s advantage.

  So far, every captured crew member had been one which they were either certain supported Jemer or suspected they did. Lacing them with her mana and carefully siphoning off their will to resist and desire to defend themselves was simple. The difficult part was evading Jemer’s soul-sense. The shaman had a sharp soul sense for her rank, according to Chaven.

  It was possible she’d previously held a higher rank and was in the process of regaining her former power. Many of the crew were in a similar situation, after all. In fact, Prism had scarce spoken with a single being who wasn’t less powerful than they had once been. Except for the very few who were mere hundreds of years from their arrival, it seemed being in the middle of reclaiming lost power was the norm rather than an exception.

  Stopping, Prism turned on her heel. The hardened leather-like material of the new boots she’d been gifted by Jemer recently clicked sharply. Nodding at the door, Prism spoke firmly, “I sense someone within that room. Open the door, carefully.”

  Two of her six-orc escort stepped forward and positioned themselves to either side of the door. Each of the patrol team were elites who Jemer had hand-picked. Combat specialists with training to resist mental intrusion. They were also idiots who the shaman’s manipulations had taken firm root within. Prism thought she could root it all out given time, but there was no point.

  The standard corridor door slid upward silently, without the clicking or unlocking of a vault door nor the hissing of an airlock. A lanky man sat on a simple stool within. He wore a simple maintenance jumpsuit, along with a bandoleer strapped with various objects. Some of the items looked like grenades, others might have been magazines for the shrapnel pistol on his hip, one even appeared to be a screwdriver,

  “HANDS UP!” One of the orcs barked harshly. The two orcs standing on either side of the doorway stuck their guns in, aiming blindly. Three more orcs with clear views pointed their own oversized weapons at the apparent coup leader.

  With a nasty glare, the man slowly raised his hands. His square jaw was set in fury, green eyes blazing as they bored into Prism’s. The dirty red tint to his hair sharpened as bright white spotlight shattered the relative gloom of the small room they’d found him in.

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  Hands raised, he opened his mouth but snapped it shut as all of the orcs began barking orders for silence all at once. That’s inconvenient.

  “If they don’t let me speak, how do we get the next stage rolling?” System’s mostly calm voice came through the channel which had been open for the last ten minutes or so.

  Carefully, Prism began siphoning the determination, anger, and paranoia from the orcs using mana she’d sent to infiltrate their bodies earlier. She was careful with both the quantity and speed which she stole their passion. It had to be done very careful, in controlled stages.

  “We’ll have to improvise.” She answered, “Straighten your shoulders and stare into the eyes of the commander, to my left.”

  The piercing green eyes which had locked onto Prism’s flicked to her left. She intercepted the spike of alarm the sudden focus caused the orc. The lack of fear response caused his body to naturally begin to release tension, bit by bit. Innate orcish arrogance did the rest.

  Sneering, he called, “Looks like he’s just a scared little human, boys!”

  His squad, male and female, shouted a sharp, “HGRRA!” The throaty cry of victory which many orcs tended to favor.

  Frowning, Prism pressed the orc’s pride, “Be careful. He could still be dangerous.”

  She stole the caution her words dredged within the squad. The amount of emotion she was now siphoning out was beginning to get difficult to contain. She was beginning to feel it. Ironic, when I don’t want to feel any emotions I’m having a difficult time controlling them. Normally, I want to feel something and can’t.

  Pressing on, she leaned on the habitual firm but cold attitude which served her so well with Jemer. Her face remained impassive, chiseled from a single block of ice.

  “Fah! What would a human know? Have you even been trained against mental intrusion?” One of the fools asked, as she manipulated his emotions.

  “No.” She neither gave credence to the implication of incompetence with a sigh nor did she harden her voice in challenge. She gave a simple, factual, answer.

  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself, little human?” The commander demanded of System, waving his firearm in a disconcertingly nonchalant manner. Most of his fear and caution had been drained away by now. The rest of the squad had varying amounts left in their systems, if she removed it from everyone Jemer would realize some of what had happened when they reported in later.

  Raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, System twisted one of his raised hands to point at his mouth.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re not afraid of some stupid human speaking.”

  Smiling a bit, System answered, “You have me dead to rights, of course. I have only one thing to say.”

  Self-satisfaction dripped from her escort’s voice as he took the bait, “What’s that?”

  “WHAT ARE YOU FOOLS DOING?!” Jemer’s voice cut in through the ear pieces each patrol member wore at all times, along with the little pin on their lapels which acted as cameras. Her own pin-cam was attached to the right strap of her dress. As she watched the drama, which had already played out too far for the captain to stop remotely, Prism wondered why Jemer didn’t just use the UICI. Too expensive?

  “Sleep.”

  With a single, harsh, pull, Prism yanked all of the wakefulness from the orc squad. Besides wakefulness, she also took energy and determination. It was the most efficient combination of things to remove to near-instantly knock people out. At least, as far as she and System had been able to determine in their limited testing before kicking off the whole counter-espionage plan.

  Naomi herself let her body fall like a discarded ragdoll. It hurt, as her head slapped uncomfortably on the metal floor. Before reinforcing her body with potential, she thought the impact may have resulted in a concussion.

  “Status?” System’s voice asked in her mind, even as the man himself stood calmly from the stool and strode forward.

  Pulling her mind further from her body, Prism retreated into the void which was her soul. She floated within, her previously emaciated body semi-healthy. The bulging muscles were still a grotesque counter-point to the too-skinny stomach and dead eyes, but her inner representation was less horrifying to behold after months of slow improvement.

  “I’m fine. Finish the scenario and leave.” She demanded.

  Although she couldn’t see, her eyes closed in ‘sleep’, Prism heard System’s rubber-soled boots stop in front of her. She imagined he knelt in front of her, felt the slight tug on the strap of her dress as he removed her camera-pin thing. He spoke calmly, still crouched as his voice was still near. Not to mention Prism could sense his proximity in that way that was never fully explainable with the standard human senses.

  “Jemer, I don’t know how you convinced Prism to join you in holding us hostage… But know that you will no succeed. Drop me off on the planet’s surface now and I’ll leave you, and your new lapdog, to your own devices. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, or the guild who backs me.”

  A flurry of cursing, some of them repeated multiple times as the UICI failed to find unique translations, streamed through Prism’s ears. System hadn’t taken her earpiece, after all. The sudden spike in cursing intensity and slurs suggested he’d made some physical gesture that drove Jemer to even greater fury. Did he flip her off? Smile? Wink?

  A soft clink told Prism he’d dropped the pin, while footsteps receding told her that he’d left. For their ruse to properly work Prism couldn’t wake yet. She’d have to wake around the same time as the others, which was several hours to come.

  Though a bit unfortunate, Prism had more than enough to do while playing ‘asleep’ to keep her occupied. She slowly turned the representation of herself within her soul, observing her surroundings. Seeing the distant constellations of bright stars, representing the many many things she had absorbed over the months was always satisfying. The empty landscape of her soul wasn’t full, it wasn’t even not empty, it never would be. She had accepted that. However, the vast emptiness of space could still be full. This was the very concept which had allowed her to push forward, to truly begin expanding on her insights.

  Then her eyes fell on the aurora. The dazzling, gorgeous, ever-shifting lights which hung just out of reach to one side of her floating figure. The aurora which represented the potential siphon which she had attached to every single being that either refused to join, or there was little to gain in recruiting.

  Jonah had been gaining power and confidence by expanding his self-made system, Willow was probably killing gods or something by now, but this was her accomplishment. A nearly unnoticeable curse placed on every one of her enemies which weakened them while strengthening herself.

  Everyone could gain potential, what Jonah still insisted on calling ‘xp’ even after learning the proper term, in any number of ways. Killing was the most efficient, by far, but it wasn’t the only way. Jonah had recreated a quest system which allowed him to slowly accrue ‘xp’. Jemer had a ‘spiritual journey’ ability which she used to gain potential. Other crew members had confided their own methods, some more unique than others.

  All Prism had to do was take in the light of potential generated by her enemies and use it to her own ends. The aurora spun and she watched the many colors stream from the source to their intended destinations.

  The large majority went directly to her mana capacity, represented as a black hole ever on the horizon, no matter how far Prism traveled within her own soul. A small, barely noticeable, mist of rainbow-light streamed into the avatar representing her body, slowly strengthening it to her specifications. One bright pink stream fed directly into her star of determination, her most precious among every star hanging in her personal void. Finally, a thick chord of white light lead from the center of the halo of light and faded to transparent nothing as it fed her soul and nexus itself.

  The rest were ever-shifting, a round robin which strengthened each star, speck of space-dust, or nigh unnoticeable vibration. Everything she absorbed became more while within her, refined and strengthened, before it was sent back out into the world when she demanded.

  Her previously empty soul was an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of color, sound, emotion, and concepts. It was beautiful.