Page 4172

The Blade hovered there above the severed head, burning with an orange light while wisps of flame radiated outward from its serrated edges.

It was actually a much larger and more complex item than it looked. The Blade was connected to an entire computational network that was constantly providing it with tracking data, and the magnets embedded into its body allowed it to work in conjunction with the various magnetic focusing beams around the workshop in order to give it the appearance of true, self-propelled flight.

Still not quite the free-form, fully mobile "familiar" that he'd originally envisioned for it to be, since it couldn't leave the workshop, but hey. It was a work that he remained quite proud of, overall.

One day, perhaps, he would have his pet sword following him wherever he went, cutting down any who dared to threaten his life.

For now, though, this was more than adequate. He hardly ever left his workshop, anyway. Too much could go wrong while he was away, thanks to the Andanatt always hounding him.

He seemed to have become their favorite subject in recent years, which was no skin off his nose. It just meant that they weren't bothering the others as much.

And some of contemporaries certainly needed to the cover. Many were struggling far more than he was, Luann knew. If he wasn't constantly being pestered by infiltrators, he might've liked to go help some of them directly. Provide advice, at least.

But no. That would just put more hostiles eyes on their work, which would be no help at all.

He proceeded to the new janitorial chamber and flipped a few switches. The cleaning bots mounted on the walls came immediately to life and scooted out to work.

They were a bit slow and bulky with their thick wheels, large vacuum hoses, industrial tanks, spinning scrubbers, sprayers, and scoopers; but he couldn't be bothered to make them more sleek or efficient. Cleaning was far from where his passion lay. It had just become an unfortunate necessity, as of late.

The Andanatt weren't the only ones bothering him. They were just the ones sending stealthed human agents. Some other nuisance was sending periodic waves of insects to gunk up his machinery. By comparison, that method of attack had been far more effective against him.

Technically, he supposed the Andanatt could've been behind that, too, but he doubted it. Didn't seem like their style.

Page 4171

But the Pool was also not random in its machinations. She was reasonably certain now that while, yes, it did indeed lie for fun, it still never did so without purpose.

"To the Pool," Mistress Yaki had once told her, "everything is a game. No matter how grave the circumstance, no matter how frustrated I become with it, no matter how benevolent its other intentions might be: the Pool will always seek to play with me, first and foremost. It is a most troublesome child, to be sure."

But that was also what made it so powerful in its own unique way. The more Anya had learned about Forges throughout history, the more convinced she'd become that their quirks and eccentricities were deeply connected to their strength.

In fact, she'd begun to believe that the stranger a Forge was, the more powerful it could become.

But only in the right hands, of course. Which was the real problem, wasn't it?

If she truly wanted to become the new mistress of the Pool of Trenoy, then she would have to play games.

And she would have to master them, too--to an extent that even Mistress Yaki had never been able to.

Which was why Anya was reassessing that illusory hand being extended toward her.

There was no mastery without risk. Not with any Forge. But especially not with the Pool.

Perhaps the true answer here was not to balk. Not to play it safe.

But to immerse herself in the illusions. Whatever madness the Pool intended to show her. Perhaps she just had to look at it directly and try to see through it from within.

She took a deep breath. The "Mistress" was simply waiting for her. Quiet and smiling. Warm and familiar.

Anya wasn't sure she'd ever felt so terrified as she did right now.

But she took the hand, and the world warped around her.

-+-+-+-+-

Fresh blood splattered across the far wall as the Blade of Perdition diced up another intruder. The third in as many weeks. Always trying to be stealthy, not realizing that his automated defense systems could detect them even through those invisibility powers they were so proud of.

When would they learn, these Andanatt fools? How many more minions must they lose?

Luann eyed the mess with exasperation. Human chunks all over the workshop. The head was preserved, though, so the adjustments he'd made to the Blade were working well. That was good.

Page 4170

When the illusion spoke, it sounded like real words reaching her ears. "Hello, my dear," it said in Luughian.

But Anya was far from awed or pleased. Anger gripped her instead. "What are you trying to pull, you stupid puddle of water? Stop imitating Mistress Yaki this instant."

The illusion of the Mistress shook her head. "I am no imitation, Anya. I placed a piece myself within the Pool upon its creation. I may be flesh and blood no longer, but this is truly me, at least in part."

Anya's ire did not subside, but she didn't know how to respond, either. Could that really be true? Or was it just another of the Pool's lies? The endless trickery. Agh.

"You were there at the Pool's birth," said the illusion. "You may not have understood what you were seeing, but you saw it nonetheless. I was never quite the same afterwards, yes?"

She didn't want to acknowledge it, but Anya knew there was truth in that. The Pool had been the Mistress' first attempt to create a Fusion Forge, and it had been quite rough on her, looking back.

The Silent Serpent had gone much more smoothly by comparison.

"How is Kurata?" said the Mistress. No. The illusion said that. The Pool.

Anya merely remained quiet.

"You are not still quarreling with him, are you? After all this time? Even if you do not believe me to be real, you must know that I would want my successors to get along."

"Shut up," said Anya, albeit weakly. The Pool was so skilled in deceit. It could weave lies out of the truth. She had to keep a clear head. Not be taken in. Regain control of the conversation. "If you really are the Mistress, then why are you only appearing to me now? I have been struggling with the Pool for years."

"You were not ready, my dear."

She scoffed. "And now I am?"

"Perhaps. Shall we find out together?" And the Mistress extended her hand forward.

Anya stared at it, knowing that the illusion was probably so complete that she would even be able to feel the Mistress' touch, too.

But she held back. She would not be deceived again. That was the Pool's most dangerous quality. If she let it take the lead, she could very easily become lost to the rest of the world.

That was the main reason why the Mistress had made the Serpent in the first place: because the Pool had a habit of trying to manipulate even her.