The knock at the study door was soft, yet it seemed to echo in the heavy silence. Lucid, wearing Karmen's older, trained body, looked up from the desk. "Enter."
The door opened. It was not Jake, nor Gerald. It was the woman he had seen walking along the road years before. She was dressed in the same beautiful, somber black robes, but the traveling case was gone. Her lower face was still obscured by an elegant, dark veil, but her eyes, visible above it, were a striking, unsettling shade of violet. She carried an air of serene authority that made the very air in the study feel thin.
"Young Master Karmen," she said, her voice a smooth, mellifluous alto. "I am Ivy. I was summoned by your parents to attend to your grandfather. I have just come from his chambers."
Lucid stood, the motion automatic. Karmen's body remembered its manners. "Miss Ivy. Thank you for your care. How is he?"
Ivy's violet eyes held his, and in them, Lucid saw no pity, only a cool, clinical assessment. "I am afraid I bear grave news. Your grandfather has passed. His connection to mother fate was vanishing. The connection was severed from mother fate... Alisia I fear my arts could only ease his transition."
The news, though expected, was a cold stone dropped into Lucid's gut. This was the first death. The starting gun of the tragedy.
"I... see," Lucid heard himself say with Karmen's voice, thick with a grief he did not personally feel but could sense swirling in the body he inhabited. "And my parents?"
"They rest," Ivy said, gliding further into the room. She moved like water, without a sound. "The same affliction lingers within them, a corrosion of their spiritual connection to this world. It is a rare and cruel fate. I am doing what I can to slow its progression, but it is a formidable curse."
'Curse.' She said the word so easily.
"Can it be broken?" Lucid asked, the question torn from the core of Karmen's being.
Ivy tilted her head. "All things can be broken, Young Master. With sufficient knowledge, and sufficient power. But such things often come at a cost greater than the malady itself. The pursuit can become its own kind of withering."
Her words were a perfect, poisoned needle. They offered a sliver of hope while painting the path to it as a descent into ruin. It was the exact fork in the road Karmen had faced.
'She is guiding him,' Alice's voice whispered, sharp with suspicion. 'Her words are too careful. She is not just a healer. She is a sculptor, shaping his despair.'
Lucid felt the pull of the trial, the weight of the 'unchanged conclusion.' The penalty for failure was death. The obvious conclusion was that Karmen's parents perished. To avoid the penalty, did he have to save them? Was that even possible in a memory?
But Alice's warning echoed. Ivy's presence was wrong. Her calm was monstrous.
He thought of the Karmen he knew, the hollow, coughing governor obsessed with Rifts and curses, spending his fortune on dead-end research as he died alone. That was the man born from choosing to fight this curse with everything he had, to pour his life into a desperate, solitary struggle.
Then he thought of the other path. The one not taken. To accept the loss. To grieve, but to live. To let go.
"Lucid," Alice urged, her tone fierce. "This is the moment. The real trial is not about healing bodies. It is about healing a soul. Show the courage you found in the void. The courage to let go, to live with the wound. Do not walk the path of obsession. It leads only to the man in the tavern, to the hands around your throat."
But another voice, Lucid's own, born of a lifetime of being betrayed and left behind, screamed in protest. 'Cling to hope! Fight! Don't just let them die! That's the coward's way out!'
He was paralyzed, standing at the crossroads inside another man's past.
Ivy watched his internal struggle, her violet eyes glinting with an emotion he couldn't name. "The world is vast and cruel, Young Master," she said, as if reading his turmoil. "It asks terrible choices of us. To hold on with bloody fists to what is slipping away, or to open our hands and bear the emptiness."
Suddenly, Lucid remembered Jake. Where was he? The musician who had come with him into this rift. He should be here, in this key moment. But he was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he had vanished, leaving Lucid alone to play Karmen's part.
A reckless, stupid idea, born of confusion and a scout's instinct to disrupt a pattern, burst into Lucid's mind. He didn't have the answer. But maybe he could force the truth to the surface.
He looked directly into Ivy's veiled face. "You speak of costs and pursuits," he said, his voice hardening. "What if the pursuit isn't to find a cure? What if it's to find the one who cast this 'curse' in the first place? What if we stop asking 'how to heal' and start asking 'who to stop'?"
Ivy went very still. The serene mask slipped for a fraction of a second, revealing not surprise, but a flash of intense, cold scrutiny. "A dangerous line of thought, Young Master. It leads to dark places. To accusations without proof. To... opposition."
"Opposition to who?" Lucid pressed, stepping closer. Karmen's taller frame loomed. "To a disease? Or to the people who might benefit from a noble house being quietly erased?"
The air in the study grew thick and cold. Ivy's violet eyes narrowed. The genteel healer facade evaporated like mist. Her posture straightened, radiating a sudden, terrifying authority.
"Ah," she said, and her melodious voice was now edged with frost. "I see. The pup has fangs. And foolish ideas." She let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. It was the sound of tension breaking, of a role being discarded. "You think to play the investigator? To 'stop' someone? How quaint. How dare you oppose the will of the Empire of Materna."
The name landed like a thunderclap. *Materna*. The empire from the Sentrum Rift trial. The vast, resource-rich enemy Tyriana had fought.
"The curse is not some rogue spell, boy," Ivy sneered, the veil doing nothing to hide her contempt now. "It is a surgical tool. Your family's research into Rift prediction was deemed a strategic threat. You were prying into realms that belong to the Empire. This 'withering' is a message. A slow, quiet recall of our investment. We allowed your grandfather to die to see if you would be sensible. To see if the heir would crumble into grief or waste his life on a hopeless quest."
She smiled, a cruel curve of her lips below the veil. "Either outcome suits us. A broken lord is no threat. A lord obsessed with a cure is too busy to look outward. We win. Materna wins. And you... you get to choose your cage."
The revelation was staggering. The 'curse' was a targeted, magical assassination by a rival empire. His family was murdered to suppress knowledge. Karmen's entire life of loss and obsession was a planned outcome, a victory condition for a distant, cruel power.
The two paths crystallized with horrific clarity.
Path One, Fight the curse. Spend everything, hire scholars, dive into forbidden research. Play right into Materna's hands. Become the obsessed, dying man, achieving nothing but his own destruction. The 'unchanged conclusion.'
Path Two, Let go. Accept the loss. Do not take the bait. Live with the terrible truth that his family was murdered for a reason, and that fighting it directly was what the enemy wanted. Choose to live, even if it meant living with the pain and the injustice. This would deny Materna its preferred outcome. It might even... lift the curse? If the curse's purpose was to *create* a specific broken heir, and that heir refused to break in the expected way...
Ivy watched him, savoring his horror. "So, Young Master Karmen. Now you know. Will you rage against the empire? Will you pour your house's wealth into a war you cannot win, dying alone and mad? Or will you be a good, quiet little lord, and accept the world as it is?"
'Lucid!' Alice's voice was a clarion call in his mind. 'This is it! The courage is not in fighting the unbeatable foe. It is in refusing to play their game! Let go. Choose to live. For him!'
Lucid, trapped in Karmen's body, felt the ghost of the real Karmen's anguish, his fury, his desperate need to *do something*. It was a tidal wave threatening to drown his own reason.
He looked at Ivy, the agent of this evil, standing so confidently in his family's home.
He thought of the penalty. *An unchanged conclusion will result in death.*
The unchanged conclusion was Karmen choosing Path One. Choosing the obsessive, lonely fight.
To survive the trial, he had to choose differently.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. Karmen's lungs filled with air that tasted of ash and defeat.
He made his choice.
He did not yell. He did not vow revenge. He let his shoulders slump, not in defeat, but in a weary, final release.
"Get out," Lucid said, his voice quiet, flat, and utterly empty. It was not a shout of anger, but a statement of fact. "Get out of my house. Tell your masters their message has been received."
Ivy's triumphant smirk froze, then slowly faded. She had expected rage, vows of vengeance, tears. She had not expected this cold, quiet dismissal. This refusal to engage.
For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty appeared in her violet eyes. The script was not being followed.
"The curse will not be lifted," she warned, a last, desperate needle.
"I know," Lucid said, turning his back on her, looking out the window at the dying light. "Some things can't be fixed. They can only be endured. Now leave."
Silence hung in the study. Then, the soft whisper of robes. The click of the door closing.
She was gone.
Lucid stood alone in Karmen's study. The weight was still there, the grief was still there, but the frantic, desperate energy was gone. It was replaced by a vast, hollow calm.
He had not saved Karmen's parents. He had condemned them to die, knowingly.
But he had not condemned Karmen to the living death of obsession. He had chosen for Karmen to live, wounded, but free of the enemy's trap.
***
Trial Conclusion: Altered.
Condition: Acceptance.
Penalty: Nullified.
***
The words appeared in his mind, not as a voice, but as a simple statement of fact.
The world around him, the study, the mansion, the very memory, began to soften at the edges, dissolving into motes of violet and grey light.
As the Omega Rift released him, one final, haunting thought echoed in the dissolving space.
He still didn't know where Jake was.