Esmodra sat on the counter now with half-finished cup of coffee in her hands. Phaser sat opposite her at the kitchen island, flipping through something on a tablet, probably news feeds, system reports and things that only half needed his attention. When he looked up, he noticed she hadn't spoken in a while.
"Something on your mind?"
She hesitated, tracing the rim of her cup.
"You said earlier… I'm part of the Ophaniels now. What does that mean?"
He shrugged, still smiling faintly.
"Means you don't have to answer to anyone anymore. Not governments. Not corporations. Not your past."
"What if my past doesn't let go that easily?"
"Then you tell me about it. That's how you start taking it apart. Also, it might make you relieved. I can be your counsellor if you want."
For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Then she took a slow breath and began.
"I was three when my parents sold us. My twin sister and I, to be specific. They didn't even look back when the men took us away. I don't remember their faces anymore. Just that my mother was crying, but she didn't stop them. They told us it was for something called the Project Flux Genesis. We were taken to a facility underground. In the beginning, they were kind. They gave us toys, sweets and lessons. Then when I turned six, they stopped smiling."
She looked at her hands.
"They called me an Alteration Fluxer. To those with that Flux, imagination was the key. That whatever I could imagine, my Flux could try to build, but only if I understood how it could exist."
Phaser frowned faintly. "So… knowledge-based manifestation?"
"Yes. If I understood the science behind something like the engineering, the code and the mechanisms, my Flux could recreate or manipulate it. But the problem was, I was a child. So they started filling me with information. Forcefully."
Her voice wavered slightly but she continued.
"They made me learn different languages, mathematics, computer systems, engineering, anything that would feed the Flux. At first, it was through books and tutors. Then, they switched to neural injections. Data infusions. They drilled languages into me. Russian, English, Korean, Japanese, all of it was like shoving fire through my skull. I woke up screaming most nights. Sometimes I didn't wake up for days. I was seven when I could finally see code. I could literally see it. Every device, every network, every machine was like a web of strings and patterns to me. And if I could imagine how to alter it, I could change it."
She lifted a hand, and blue lines shimmered faintly in her palm.
"That's what the Alteration Flux is. It bridges thought and knowledge. Whatever I can understand, I can twist. That's when they realized how dangerous I could become."
She took a sip of coffee before continuing, though her hands trembled slightly now.
"When I was nine, they started testing my limits. They made me hack things like bank systems, government firewalls, even satellites. I didn't even know what I was doing half the time. If I failed, they'd punish my sister instead of me."
Her voice faltered there, and for a long moment, she couldn't go on.
"You don't have to—"
"No. You said to tell it, right? So I will. And I have to. After all, I can't live in the past."
He nodded once, letting her continue.
"They said my Flux could only grow if I experienced pain. They believed trauma deepened imagination. So they made sure we never forgot pain. They'd inject new neural templates and perform surgeries to increase mental receptivity. Once, they opened my head just to test how far the Flux had embedded in my brain. I was awake for that one."
Her fingers clenched around the mug until it rattled.
"When I screamed too much, they sedated me. When I stopped screaming, they shocked me awake. I think they just wanted to see how far the mind could break before it stopped working."
"And the others? The other children?"
"They didn't last. By the time I turned fifteen, there were only three of us left. My sister, me, and another boy. We were Ennèa Category Fluxers. Other children came through the years as well. It was the last thing they ever said to that boy before he exploded. He tried to rewrite a reactor's magnetic containment field. His Flux destabilized the particles. He turned into light before he could even scream."
Phaser said nothing for a long time.
"When I was sixteen, I started using my Flux in secret. I hid a fragment of myself inside their own networks. I used it to trace connections across countries. That's how I found out there were other facilities. Not just one but dozens of children, adults and people taken off the streets. That's when I decided to leak everything. Every log, every name, every experiment. But I couldn't do it then. I was too closely monitored. So I waited. And when the security went down after my sister's revolt, I released it all."
Phaser nodded slowly. "So you're the reason the world knows."
She smiled faintly. "I guess I am. But I didn't do it to be a hero. I just didn't want them to make another me. When my sister died as we escaped, I almost stopped fighting. She made sure I escaped. Said I should see the sky for both of us. But when I looked at it, it didn't feel like freedom. Just… emptiness. You asked earlier what kind of Flux I have. You already know I'm an Alteration Fluxer, but mine's a bit more specific."
"Let's hear it."
She smiled faintly, brushing her darkened fingers together.
"It's called Technomagic."
"Sounds fancy."
"It's not as fancy as it sounds. Basically, it's a combination of logic and imagination. I can access any technological system. If I can picture it and understand how it works, I can… enter it. I don't even need to touch the device physically. My Flux links with electronic frequencies, data channels, and digital codes like they're extensions of my body."
"So you're a walking, breathing supercomputer."
"If you put it that way, yes. But it's more delicate than that. I need powerful devices to make stronger connections. High-grade processors, quantum cores, that sort of thing. If I'm using something weak, the signal decays. That's why I always needed the facility's equipment. Without it, I can't reach the deeper systems."
"So your limit is the strength of your device?"
"My imagination and my knowledge can only go as far as the system that runs them."
"Then stop thinking like that."
"What?"
"Stop thinking your Flux depends on hardware. Think bigger."
She gave him a look somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
"You're not making sense."
He pushed off the counter and came closer, leaning his elbows on the table beside her.
"Imagine the most powerful device you can think of. Don't limit it to reality. Don't think about wires, batteries, processors. Just imagine something you could carry and exists for you alone. Like holograms you can use. "
She tilted her head. "That's not how it works—"
"Try it. You've got imagination and knowledge, right? Then use them both."
Esmodra blinked at him, then sighed and nodded.
"Fine."
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The moment she did, faint silver motes began to rise from her arms. Xana swirled from her fingertips, forming elegant spirals that shimmered against the kitchen light. Her Flux began to unfold and Nihris stepped back, watching as glowing blue threads coiled around her hands.
Dozens of holographic screens flickered into existence. Each one blinked in and out of existence. She frowned, concentrating harder.
"Come on…"
Observa's voice echoed softly from the ceiling.
"Focus on harmony, not control, Esmodra. The Palace's creation fields will assist you."
"Creation… fields?"
"Just trust me," Nihris said quietly, watching as faint white rings appeared beneath her feet. The Palace was responding to her Flux. "You've got help this time."
Her lips parted slightly. The next instant, the light condensed. A pulse of blue radiance flooded the counter, scattering the loose utensils and crumbs. When she opened her eyes, her eyes widened. Before her floated countless holographic panels.
"How… how did I do that?"
Observa's voice filled the room again, softer this time.
"You didn't do it alone. Master Nihris granted your Flux access to the Chronological Palace's Creation Capability, the same force that sustains this place. Your own Archeon, The Silver Gloves of Infinite Possibility, amplified it."
She turned to look at Nihris, stunned.
"Wait... what does that mean?"
"It means you don't need physical devices anymore. Those holograms aren't projections. They're extensions of your Flux. Think of them as pure constructs of imagination given substance."
Observa continued, "Normally, holographic interfaces require a power core or energy stream. But your gloves transmute your Xana into functional systems. It bridges impossibility into reality so they act as your processors. You can summon them at will or make them vanish, with a thought."
Esmodra stared at her hands, the swirling blue spirals glowing softly. She blinked at the dozens of floating screens around her. Then, experimentally, she waved her hand. The holograms flickered and vanished all at once, dissolving into motes that faded into the air.
"It listens to me."
Nihris nodded. "Because it's yours. The Silver Gloves of Possibility are meant for Alteration Fluxers. It completes what you are."
She sat in silence for a moment, staring at her hands. Then she looked at him again. Her voice was uncertain.
"Why are you… giving me this? You're making me more powerful than I've ever been. You barely even know me."
"You said you wanted to see the Russian government fall, right? It's going to collapse soon, but I want you to be the one who pushes it over the edge."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak.
"You've been powerless for too long, Esmodra. They took everything from you. So take something back. Use what you've got. Use what I'm giving you. And when your revenge is done, you'll be free."
"Free?"
"Once your revenge over, I'll make sure you have enough to start again. Money, a house, you name it. You won't owe me anything. I'll take back the Archeon, and you'll be done."
"You… promise?"
Before Nihris could answer, Observa's voice echoed gently:
"He will keep his word. The Master never breaks his promises."
Nihris gave a small nod. "You have my word."
For a long moment, Esmodra just looked at him. There was something in his eyes that wasn't pity or distance, but quiet sincerity.
"Then it's a deal."
"Good. Welcome to the Ophaniels, Esmodra."
A blinding flash of light erupted near the kitchen, followed by a heap of chaos and muffled groans. Five figures tumbled out of a shimmering gateway, scattering papers, boxes, and half the pantry supplies across the floor. Esmodra nearly fell off the counter in shock.
"What the—"
Nihris sighed, running a hand down his face.
"Oh no…"
The heap began to move, revealing five disheveled women in matching, half-torn uniforms, tangled together like cats in a basket. One of them groaned, another cursed, and the tallest one immediately pointed at the others.
"I told you not to run so fast, Naelle!"
"It wasn't me!"
"Then who was it!?"
"Definitely you, Syraleh, you're the one with butter fingers!"
Observa's calm voice cut through the chaos, utterly unfazed.
"Welcome back, Null Handmaidens. Portal re-entry successful… though your landing vector remains questionable."
Esmodra blinked, wide-eyed.
"Who… are they?"
Nihris pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh.
"The Null Handmaidens. My lovely, overly dramatic team of assassins."
One of the women waved at Esmodra from the floor.
"Oh! New girl! Hi! Don't mind the entrance, we were definitely aiming for the hallway."
Another snorted. "Sure we were. Hey, why is this place so fancy? Wasn't it just medieval like weeks ago?"