34. Is It Always Like That?

What should be a simple experiment goes wrong pretty much from the very first step. With every other skill, it’s just been a simple matter of will to apply it to the active blessing. It’s hard to describe how that works, exactly, but essentially I just make the decision and then it happens. Not so here. Instead, it feels like there’s some sort of gap that wasn’t there with other skills. Intuitively, I know that it should be a valid skill for the blessing, but it’s not slotting neatly into place.

“Hmm, it’s kinda resisting,” I mutter, furrowing my brow. “I still think it will work, but it’s harder for some reason.”

Talla rests an elbow on the table and props up her chin. “It is arguably your most powerful skill, and your core class is already much stronger than it should be for your tier. It could be a mismatch between the effective tier of the skill and that of the spell.”

“So the spell is too weak for the skill?” I ask.

“Something like that,” she agrees. “But probably not so much that you can’t get through it with a bit of overdraw—just try not to force it. If you end up straining yourself too badly then I’ll need to give you a tincture.”

That wouldn’t be an issue by itself, but if I need a tincture, then it fucks over everybody else. I’m the only one with a positive expression of magical strain, which means I need a different kind of tincture. The two don’t mix, which means that if I take one it will not only prevent Vi from getting her own dose, but it will also make her and the others more vulnerable than usual. Probably make her depression worse, too.

“I’ll be careful,” I promise, redirecting my attention back to the skill.

It’s not a stiff resistance. Mostly, I’m just surprised to encounter resistance at all. It’s like all the other skills were set up on a conveyor belt that I just had to switch on, but this one’s switch is broken, so I have to carry it over by hand. It’s heavy, to stretch the analogy a bit, but not so much that I have to push myself.

We were worrying for nothing, I guess. It takes some focus, sure, but in the end I attach the skill to the blessing without even breaking a sweat. Then Talla starts screaming.

“Ow! OW OW! STOP—MAGGIE STOP IT!” she shrieks, clutching her horns.

“Wha—” I stammer, caught up for a moment in my own panic. “I-I can’t! You have to cancel the blessing!”

Talla doubles over, clenching her teeth on a barely suppressed cry of pain. She clutches the edge of the table and shakes her head, and I can’t tell whether she’s listening or even if she can hear me.

“Talla! Stop the blessing!” I insist.

I try putting other skills in place to switch it back, but she doesn’t respond except to groan and shake. Finally she rears her head back and headbutts the table hard enough that her horns leave chips in the hard wood. That puts a stop to her screaming, and for just a second I wonder if she’s knocked herself out before she slowly sits up, panting hard and visibly shaking.

“Okay...” she squeezes out between gasping breaths. “Never do that again.”

“Yeah, no fucking shit!” I snap, then wince at the glare she sends back in response. “S-sorry. I won’t, I promise.”

Talla nods slowly and takes her time to compose herself. I sit quietly and stare down at my knees while I wait, feeling like the stupidest person in the entire world. Idiot! I should have known that it would be dangerous. How many times did we get fucked up just by trying to look at our own class back in the convergence point? I let my guard down because it hasn’t happened in a while, and ended up getting Talla hurt for the sake of my own stupid curiosity.

Allie’s right. Vi’s right. I should just—

“Stop moping!” Talla snaps from across the table, causing me to flinch. She sighs and shakes her head. “Sorry, just give me a second.”

She takes a familiar ampoule from her bag, but instead of carefully measuring out Vi’s dose as she usually does, she shoots the entire thing back herself like a shot. Talla takes a deep breath, holds it for a tense second, then slowly exhales. Her hands are still trembling a bit, but her voice is steady when she breaks the awkward silence between us.

“That wasn’t your fault, Maggie,” she says. “You couldn’t have known what would happen, and I expected that there would be some risks.”

“What did happen?” I ask.

She grimaces and rubs her temples. “I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never felt strain like that. Even my initiation wasn’t so rough. It was...like being torn apart. As if my soul was trying to fill an empty space, but it was too small.”

“Or too few,” I mutter.

I recall the mental image I got when I tried to examine our souls with my magical senses. The image I can still see if I focus inward, though doing it too often or for too long hurts my head. It’s a fractal pattern, like never-ending matryoshka dolls, each one containing another version of ourselves. Most of them are empty, blank, or maybe just asleep. Potential or dormant selves beyond the five of us that are already active.

This skill was made by the weird entity that spoke to us through the [Angel] when Allie first arrived in this world, I’m almost certain of it now. And it was made specifically to accommodate us, fitted to our souls like a tailored suit.

Or maybe it’s better to think of it the other way around. It was created such that we would perfectly fit it. When Talla tried it on, it wasn’t the seams of the skill that threatened to burst—it was her soul’s.

“I could feel it, for just a moment,” she says quietly.

I blink. “Feel what?”

“The...weight?” she hedges. “Aside from the part where it felt like my brain was trying to break through my skull, I felt this pressure. I don’t think I’ve ever truly understood how much you’re all struggling.”

Oh. Uh, that’s not what I was expecting.

“It’s not that bad,” I demur. “We’re getting used to it.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. That’s not something one just acclimates to like scaling a tall mountain. Is it always like that?”

Like we’re on a razor’s edge? Constantly one slip away from disaster? Like the entire world wants us dead and every narrow escape just makes it worse?

“Yeah,” I admit.

“Blood and acid,” she sighs. “No wonder you’ve grown so fast. I already knew how difficult adapting to this world has been for you, but it keeps surprising me all over again.”

I fidget in my seat, unsure how to reply. It’s nice to be recognized, but kinda feels like condescension. Normally, I’d just snap out something sarcastic, but I’m feeling a bit raw right now. This is awkward, I don’t want her to feel sorry for me, no matter how warranted it is.

The pressure behind my eyes fades, and while I feel no less self-conscious than I did a second ago. I flick my eyes up to meet Talla’s worried gaze and let out a sigh of relief.

“Fricking finally!” I exclaim. “I am so sorry she put you through that, Talla.”

She frowns slightly. “Allie. It was no imposition. The results might have been painful, but I consider it a successful experiment.”

“If you say so.” I shrug. “She should have checked with the rest of us before doing something so reckless, though, and I’m still ticked at her for ignoring me all day!”

“What happened to her?” she asks, the furrow of her brow deepening.

“Not sure,” I reply. “She’s gone quiet. Probably felt awkward or ashamed and wanted to run away.”

Talla drums her fingers on the table and hums thoughtfully.

“I’ve never known Maggie to be particularly driven by shame,” she notes.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel it. If anything, I sometimes think she’s the most self-conscious one out of all of us.”

“The most self-aware, as well,” Talla mutters quietly.

“Hm?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, never mind. If we’re finished, then I do have some matters to take care of.”

I blink at the obvious dismissal. Is she mad at me?

“Wait, I wanted to talk about the deal Feena offered you!”

“I’m sure you do, but I’m afraid that’s a decision I have to make on my own. We can talk later.”

As much as I’d like to press, her tone doesn’t really brook any argument. What the heck? I haven’t done anything, have I?

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Have I done something to upset you?”

Talla rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs. “Not really—to both questions. I’m not upset with you, Allie, just...upset. It’s the strain—don’t take it personally.”

I purse my lips. That’s a convenient excuse, but I’ve seen what happens when she pushes her magic too hard. She gets all depressed and mopey like Vi does. Evelyn gets snippy, but I’ve never seen that happen to Talla. Is this just a rare reaction, or is she brushing me off with an excuse? It bothers me that I can’t tell.

“Alright,” I back off. “Sorry again about today—I know you volunteered and all, but you didn’t know what you were getting into.”

She shrugs, then rises to leave. “None of us did, but I don’t regret it. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

I watch her go, frowning to myself as I try to figure out what might be wrong.

* * *

Talla clutches her forehead as soon as she’s out of sight of Maev’s cabin. Her head still pounds despite the tincture she took earlier, and she knows that taking another one would only make the problem worse now.

Voices echo in her head, their words and meanings lost in an indecipherable cacophony. She feels a conflicting array of emotions not her own—grudges and grievances left unaired, hopes unrealized, a futile longing for a place she’s never known. A place that even the origin of the memories can’t entirely remember.

Talla lied when she told Maggie that she’d only felt the pressure for a moment. She could tell how mortified she’d been at what happened and didn’t have the heart to tell her the full truth of it. It was bad enough that Talla had yelled at her like that.

Where had that impulse even come from? Lingering resentment from Vi? Maggie’s own proclivity for harshness? No, of all the confusing feelings still bouncing around inside her head, that particular slip had a clear source.

“I had no idea Allie felt that way,” she mumbles under her breath. “I still shouldn’t have been so harsh with her.”

It’s just a side effect, she tells herself. With a bit of rest, the echoes will fade and her ill-fated collision with Maev’s souls will be little more than a memory—one that is entirely hers.

By the Goddess, she really hopes she’s right.