One of the souls was Garovel. That much, Hector could sense straight away. It was friendly, he knew, as if that were somehow a physical characteristic, no different from shape or temperature or weight.
‘Well, this is terrifying,’ came another voice. It belonged to Chergoa, Hector realized.
If one of those souls was Chergoa, then the other was almost certainly Emiliana.
Hector tried to speak but found no voice for himself--or mouth, for that matter. So he tried merely thinking, instead. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I believe we’re experiencing a hyper anomaly,’ said Chergoa.
‘What does that mean?’ Hector asked.
‘I dunno. I just made it up.’
Hector would have shaken his head if he’d had one. He was beginning to notice a family resemblance.
‘It’s okay, though,’ Chergoa went on. ‘I’ve seen this kind of thing before.’
‘You have?’ Emiliana said.
‘No,’ Chergoa said.
They all allowed a beat to pass, and Hector heard an inaudible sigh from Emiliana.
‘Do you have anything useful to tell us?’ the young Lady Elroy asked.
‘Jokes are useful. It’s important to keep the mood light whenever possible, y’know.’
‘I wouldn’t call those jokes.’
‘Alright, well, if you want my best guess, then I’d say we’ve been sucked into a pocket dimension.’
‘What?’ said Hector. ‘You mean like an alternate reality?’
‘Not really, no. But kinda. A little.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Hector.
‘I dunno. Look, I said it was a guess.’
‘Sometimes, servant abilities clash in dramatic ways and end up creating really weird shit. Kinda like what we’re seeing. Maybe. And between Dimas and that Marauder asshole, it’s possible that the resulting spatial distortions caused a pocket dimension to be created. I mean, that is basically what the destruction type is. Sort of.’