CHAPTER 221

"And what would you do with this information? Would you gather a holy crusade and set forth to stomp them out? Or perhaps your new perspective would give you pause?"

"It shouldn't matter to you what I do," Cyrus retorted angrily. "What we do with the answers to our questions is none of your damned business."

Crimson eyes glowed brightly in the fog as if studying him. "Maybe what you do with yourself matters more than you could ever know, Master Cyrus. Perhaps your new...enlightened state gave me a false sense of familiarity."

"You're stalling." Ultimately, it didn't matter. If the Oracle chose not to answer, he wouldn't. During those rare occasions, he would either go quiet or simply refuse. As long as the Oracle kept talking, it meant an answer was coming.

"Then here is your answer." The mists thickened and pressed against the glass as if trying to pass through it. Some of it squeezed out of the mechanical speaker. Cyrus made a mental note to mention it to maintenance once he was done. "You fear the past, but your time is better spent looking to the future. But you will never fulfill your destiny as long as you continue looking over your shoulder."

Destiny? Cyrus snorted, but said nothing.

"On the fate of the Arachne, know that not a single Arachne walks this Earth."

Cyrus frowned. "That's only a half answer. That could mean that several Arachne are alive and well, and you know it."

The Oracle sighed. "I tire of this topic, but fine, I shall humor you. At this very moment in time, no Arachne nor its eggs exist on Earth. Does this please you?"

Cyrus could hear the sneer in the Oracle's voice. It would bother him more, but he was so flooded with relief that he didn't really care how he was spoken to. More mist drifted from the speaker, curling in on itself like a snake.

"This is good news," he replied, then turned to walk away. "I'll let them know you behaved."

"Like the animal I am, right?" There was a coldness to the Oracle that Cyrus hadn't heard in a while. "Tell them I want more mystery novels this time. I'm tired of action books, they're too predictable."

"I don't know how you read with all that shit in there." Cyrus put his hands on the door.

"And you assume that we only see the best things in life with our eyes." The Oracle slapped a hand against the glass. "Master Cyrus?"

Cyrus paused, then looked back at the Oracle. "What?"

"I have a question for you." The anger was gone, and the mists had thinned out. "If this Caretaker you spoke of were to find such a wretch as myself, do you think he would have locked me away?"

Cyrus shook his head in frustration and moved to leave.

"Please, answer me!" The Oracle slapped on the glass again, desperation in its voice. "Does such a human exist that could see past all that I am? Would he sit with me as you do, yet without these walls to confine me?"

Cyrus paused, then let out a sigh. When he turned around, he was surprised to see that the Oracle had pressed itself against the glass, as if to see him better. It was a hideous sight, seeing all of the creature at once. It looked to be in poor shape, but Cyrus knew better.

The damned thing seemed to shapeshift at times, but never in a measurable way. It was always a humanoid with a pair of large wings and glowing eyes, but that was where similarities ended. Sometimes the antennae would be much longer and thin, or short and furry. Its wings would droop and drag behind it on the ground, but now they stuck out and fluttered as it moved. Decades of researchers had studied this demonstrable evidence of the Mandela Effect, but progress was greatly hindered by the fact that files and pictures would alter themselves to match the current variant they could see. Any sort of research based solely on shifting memories and opinions would inevitably lead nowhere, but the Order was determined to keep trying.

"I don't know," he replied. "Not because I think less of you or him. But if I were to guess...I think he's a good man. Better than you or I deserve, that's for certain."

"I see." The Oracle sounded relieved as it moved back from the glass. "If given the opportunity, I would so love to meet him."

"Fat chance," Cyrus muttered as he let himself out. His escort waited for him outside, and they led him to a room where he could spend the night before setting out in the morning. As sleep came for him, he kept going over his conversation with the Oracle.

No matter how many times he replayed the words, he knew the Oracle had gotten the better of him. He just couldn't figure out how. As he tried to tease out what he had missed, a random thought surfaced.

He had forgotten to mention the broken speaker to maintenance. Shaking his head, he reached for the nearby landline to let someone know.

The forest was alive in a manner that Abella had never experienced in her centuries of life. The trees rustled their branches at her in greeting as Nirumbi children circled their base, playing a game that involved two sticks and a stone. Up above, a tiny cluster of sprites watched with great interest.

Ever since Mike had awakened the forest, fae creatures had returned to the land. Some of them had been in a state of hibernation, surviving deep within the soil. Others had migrated over from the fae realm with the blessing of the Queen. It was part of a treaty he had signed with the Queen, allowing her people a place to stay outside her realm as long as she devoted defenders to the border. A tribe of rock trolls now patrolled the edges of his property and reported directly to Bigfoot.