Yes, that’s it, so… kill her… eat her… like Elyssus, absorb her. She’s your offering; if you won’t absorb an offering, why keep it?

A familiar, lilting woman’s voice echoed by Lucimia’s ear, like a flute threading mist.

Her vision was pitch-black; her limbs were gone to stone. Fear swelled first; then she could only answer in her head.

N-now? It’s already too late, right? Even if I do it, nothing will change.

Heh. Olivya gave two light laughs, tinkling like glass. You really are adorably dumb.

…

Sensation seeped back into her arms and legs. Lucimia opened her eyes and found herself again on that altar, a tide of black-robed figures still kneeling below.

She turned on instinct. Behind her, Olivya had opened her eyes, watching from the air like a moon over deep water.

Her hands were crossed in prayer. Then she unfolded them. In her palms sat a black Fuzzy Orb, like night fur coiled tight.

Olivya offered the orb up to Lucimia’s gaze.

What… is that?

Power, Olivya said, voice soft as silk. Touch it, and you’ll gain strength enough to face that evil giant octopus.

Lucimia reached out on reflex; halfway there, dread slammed in. She jerked her hand back.

I don’t want it. She shook her head, like a willow refusing wind.

Why? Olivya didn’t get angry. She smiled and asked in a gentle hush, a spring-rain patience.

If I take it, I won’t be me, right? You’ll overwrite me, use my body to revive yourself.

Heh. Why would I? Olivya laughed as if she’d heard a child’s tale, voice smooth. Why assume I’d seize your mind? Do you think, if you touch this Fuzzy Orb, I’ll make you burn, kill, and plunder?

What else would happen?

Silly girl. Olivya licked her lips, a predator’s rose-petal gesture, and asked down to her, Would you do nothing after gaining power? Even without power, you act; with power, would you stop? Does that sound reasonable?

I… Lucimia hesitated; power meant motion. Standing still felt like lying to the sky.

I’m right, aren’t I? With power, you’ll do many things. How can you be sure those choices aren’t yours, but me hijacking your mind?

I…

Olivya tilted her chin, smiling. People change. Thoughts shift with what we gain and lose. Even if you change, that’s still your choice. How is that me seizing you, controlling you?

…

The words stung with sense. How do you ever know if a choice is truly yours?

Yet her gut, like a drumskin, recoiled from the Fuzzy Orb in Olivya’s hands.

Doesn’t matter. I won’t touch it. Lucimia stepped back twice, retreat like ripples.

Sigh~ Olivya breathed out regret and drew the orb away, night fur disappearing into her palms.

It’s fine. I won’t force you. But there’s one thing you should know.

What?

Touch it or not, it remains. Sooner or later, it’ll reach for you on its own. If it touches first, your mind might truly be erased. What then? Maybe if you touch first, you keep the initiative.

The hook caught for a heartbeat; the logic rang clear like a bell. Then Lucimia pulled back—this could be a lie. A Dark Deity’s words are honeyed poison, all lure and deception.

I don’t buy it. Lucimia turned her face away, closing a curtain.

Heh, suit yourself~

As Olivya’s words faded, Lucimia’s awareness sank like ink in water. She knew she was waking, returning to that soft, cloudlike bed.

The moment she opened her eyes, a pink-haired girl pulled her into a hug. A light fragrance circled her nose like drifting plum blossoms.

Lucy… sis, are you okay? Her worried voice carried a tremble of tears.

I… Lucimia wanted to hug back, but her arms stalled like tied reeds.

Seeing Yuna—hurt herself, yet first to worry for Lucimia, never complaining, always helping with Reversion—was a lantern in fog.

Regret bit. That thought of offing her had been a snake planted in her heart.

That hadn’t been true thought. Elyssus and Olivya had been whispering poison.

That’s real seduction—make you birth the thought yourself, not force it in.

Without the two Dark Deities’ voices, her mind cleared like a wind-swept lake.

So she hugged Yuna back. I’m fine.

Mm-hm. Sister Lucy, what do we… do next?

What to do… The question weighed first; then indecision glued her feet.

Elyssus can commune with believers and Evil Entities without a Sacrificial Ritual. It’s already setting the board, right? What can I even do?

What baffled her most wasn’t Elyssus talking to the Deceiver, but how the summoning ritual had started at all.

She was fogged out, mind blank as paper.

What if… we run? In the end, Lucimia reached for the final option.

No! Yuna flared, voice cracking like a snapped string.

Why…? Lucimia jolted, unable to fathom the sudden blaze.

I… Realizing she’d gone too far, Yuna lowered her head, fingers pinching her skirt hem like anxious moths.

She stammered, then managed, Anyway, please don’t run, okay? Let’s try once more. That… big octopus? Didn’t it give a hint?

… Lucimia studied Yuna, remembering she’d undergone Reversion several times. If we run, does something bad happen?

Yuna neither nodded nor shook her head. She still said not running was better.

…

Now Lucimia was stuck in a pincer.

Can’t run? Then what? Was this forcing her hand? Or just waiting to die?

Hints, hints… If Elyssus dared move like this, it must have a sure win. It was toying with her like a cat with thread.

She wanted to quit, flip the table—slam it and overturn it. Fine. She couldn’t even flip the table.

It felt like another bind: wait for death, or… touch the Fuzzy Orb.

She didn’t want to.

Problem was, because of the rules, Yuna couldn’t say what happens if they run.

Tsk. Lucimia raked her hair; a clutch of strands came away, pale as shed silk.

Irritation smoldered. It felt like the world itself was singling her out, stacking obstacles like bricks in a wall.