Rhyme turned the bezoar over in their hand, reflecting silently on the way it cast flecks of golden light off into the far corners of the room. The Lady was gone now, and with her fled the feeble grapple for a distraction the mage had clung to in attempts to shut out the echo of voices thundering in their skull.

‘Your student is betraying you … He holds himself back from killing you.’ ███ ██████ ███████.

‘I’ll take care of Mother Amelia…’ ███ ██████.

‘You put everyone in danger … If you want to defect and join the Vulgaris then…go do it. Just leave me out of it.’ Matthias.

‘What you do– it’s against nature.’ ████.

‘You burned Rowan–’ Sir Rowland.

‘You lied to me.’ Malachi.

The harsh gravity of their mistakes ran through their mind on a tired loop, competing loudly to drown out the now-familiar chorus driving Rhyme towards indulgence of their abnormal psyche. The madness they could suppress if they put in the willpower to steel their mind; but the distinct absence of insanity left all the more room for reflection to steal its way in. Silence was never absolute.

‘You want to see true power? … Little Interloper … I can teach you.’ ███ ██████ ███████.

‘You are not free … I can almost see the weave– but you still have a role to play to make it clear to me.’ The Lady.

‘Rhyme, you need to slow down.’ Matthias.

‘We’ll figure this out.’ Sygrun.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ Jester. Dun. Beacon of the Fire Guild. Rook to a vampire. Soulsplit. Daemon-haunted. Insane. “Interloper”. Vulgaris-minded. “Hero of Dunland”. ████████. Malefactor. Ally. Enemy. Rhyme. O’shea.

Why couldn’t they get it right? The others have been patient so far– but that kindness won’t last forever. If they keep moving perhaps they could tamp down the swell of all this neglected emotion and bury this sense of unease. If they worked a little harder then maybe they could outpace their ignorance, and repair what rifts they’d sown. One more act– one more study– one more apology…

‘You’re telling me what happened– that has nothing to do with how you feel.’ Sir Jacqueline…

“I’m a problem. I’m a burden. All I ever do is push everyone away.” Rhyme couldn’t remember when they’d arrived before Malachi– or why they had deigned to tell him this. They clutched at the bezoar in their pocket like a lifeline as the unfamiliar sting of tears clawed their way out from someplace buried and bricked over.

“No, Rhyme. I’ll always be here.” He looked so sad when he said it.

▲▲▲

‘I find it best to set aside your defenses, and to simply act as you are. They just want to make sure that you’re safe.’ ████.

“Enough!” Rhyme cast the bezoar across the room, breathless by the time it had clattered into obscurity somewhere behind their bed. No sooner had they unhanded the item did the flood of insanity return to deafen all other intrusions.

‘Find the bezoars,’ it demanded. ‘Find them all. Get them. Hoard them. Think how pretty they’d look– all lined up on your mantle…’

Compared to all that had come prior, the return of this particular preoccupation was a welcome relief from introspection, and it was with a thin sheen of sweat that Rhyme finally dropped back onto their and Reason’s empty bed. While a hand over their eyes blocked out the faint reflection of moonlight glancing off the snow and through their window, their thoughts supplemented a dancing array of crystalline reflections to attest to the beauty of the many bezoars their addled mind craved. Yet– somehow– Rhyme began to drift towards sleep in spite of the star-bright fireworks lighting up the backsides of their eyelids.

‘They just want … sure … you’re safe…’ An echo…

‘Huh… Is that true…?’ They wondered blearily. That thought hadn’t ever occurred to Rhyme– genuinely. That alone made them feel more messed up than any amount of meddling the vampire, Alu– or even the daemon could do…