C118: Final cycle

‘It’s dark, I’m scared.’

‘What, who? Me? I’m scared?’

And that was the last moment she knew.

She was not alone anymore.

—

“...”

Izzy hovered in her Mindscape. She looked down at the monument that rose in the center of the amusement park.

Around her, the park was a ghostly carnival; the merry-go-round sat frozen, and the Ferris wheel loomed above.

She drifted closer, her gaze scanning the words carved into its surface.

[“Who are you?”]

[“Are you the one creating this place?”]

[“What happened to us over the past few days?”]

[“Are you me, from the past? From the future?”]

The white text was etched into the dark stone of the monument, glowing. Izzy’s gaze drifted to the next line, where the words changed to purple.

[“I’m Raven…”]

Izzy’s eyes narrowed slightly as she continued reading.

[“Who are you? Are you me?”]

[“I am your past.”]

She tilted her head slightly, studying the contrast between the writings.

“This looks like two versions of me talking with each other,” she noted aloud.

The previous "Izzy" had left a trail of breadcrumbs in this form of a record. Izzy drifted lower, tracing the sequence of thoughts left behind.

‘Well… this is concerning.’ A grimace formed on her face.

The fact that Izzy was standing here, reviewing these notes in her Mindscape, meant that her previous iteration had died.

Her gaze shifted across the monument, pulling together the scattered implications.

‘Winterin Village.’ That was the next focal point. Everything pointed there.

The vile beast still lurked in the forest. The area beyond the known paths remained unpredictable. They could not simply flee the area.

The Inspectors clearly knew more. They understood what was happening within the forest, but they didn't trust her enough.

Maybe the road from the mansion to the village was relatively safe, but everywhere else was certain death.

[“Destroy the fake moon.”]

This was the directive in the diary she had found on Benjamin’s body, paired with the phrase: [Last cycle.]

Izzy exhaled. “So this is my last chance…”

There was a dizzying amount of information to sift through. She began organizing them mentally.

“The Stagefarers.”

“The mystery of Winterin.”

“The rite involving the fake moon.”

“The vampire maid, and the church that sheltered her.”

There was also the possibility of a third party.

“A Trader, or a human trafficker involved somewhere in this chain.”

Her expression darkened. Her fingers curled slightly as she thought.

“And the spawn of the vile beast…”

That line felt off. Did “her” from the past iteration really write this?

“...”

Her thoughts slowed for a moment.

It was strange. The more she looked at the notes, the more she felt a disconnect.

‘…Does it even matter?’

Izzy’s thoughts race. They didn’t need to solve everything happening in the village. That wasn’t their objective.

Their goal was singular: survive, kill the Herald and escape this forest.

That was it.

‘Did those previous versions of me not think about this?’ Izzy frowned.

This was the part that baffled her. Her previous iterations seemed too involved in the affairs of the village.

“The Herald will bring Amelia here,” she mused.

“The village houses one, or possibly multiple vampires. They’re attempting something involving the moon.”

“The Inspectors die during the rite.”

That was a point in the previous cycle's timeline.

If she could alter that, she could change the outcome.

“If I gather all the Inspectors here at the mansion,”Her lips curled slightly. “They will survive and protect me.”

They would await the Herald's arrival, and would kill him together. It was a win-win scenario; she would have high-level Stagefarers as meat shields, while they could complete their objective, to retreat Amelia.

As always, there were still risks. If the Inspectors saw her real body, the painting, they might turn their blades on her before the Herald even arrived.

They needed to hide their true body in a place where no prying eye could find it.

“I need traps, and more corpses.”

Traps laid in the hallways and the gardens. They needed more corpses, more marionettes to act as her eyes and hands.

Izzy outlined her plan. This time, she would control the flow of events.

“Right, that girl Mary too.”

Everything, every event in this place seemed to cycle around her. She was a magnet for trouble.

‘So, if I do not want to get involved in the village’s mess, I need to keep my distance from her.’

As for the Herald, judging from the writing on the black monument, there were at least five days left until the Rite. And yet, across all those days, there was no mention of the Herald appearing, not once.

Or at least, her previous selves had not recorded his presence.

“...”

Izzy narrowed her eyes slightly.

How was that possible?

The Herald, the one figure that Izzy feared the most, one of the variables had not shown up even a single time within those days?

‘Did he only appear at the moment of the Rite?’

She tilted her head slightly, considering the possibility. It was strange, because her previous "iteration" had technically survived till the Rite.

Not meeting him…Was Herald's arrival here a scam? Did Benjamin trick her into thinking that way, so she would make mistakes with all those "iterations"?

‘I need to consider that too. Maybe the Herald was a hoax.’

Her gaze dropped back to the monument, scanning the colors of the text. White. Purple. Records of her different “selves,” in different timelines, and different failures.

A wry smile tugged at her lips.

It was a relief that she had the habit of noting everything down so obsessively.

And because this was her mindscape, a place no one else could access—well, besides Isa—she had never bothered cleaning up old notes. She could leave the information here and didn't need to worry about prying eyes.

After a brief pause, she raised her hand and began writing again, this time in a vibrant green, Isa’s color.

[“Good day, me. This is our third iteration. Let’s do our best.”]

She snickered at her own words. Simply acknowledging the situation and having a plan helped to relieve the suffocating pressure in her chest.

At the very least, she was no longer walking blindly. That alone was an advantage.

Shifting her attention away from the monument, Izzy focused on the current situation outside.

“Move it! Take that over there! That’s right!”Isa’s voice echoed.

The young mind was currently controlling Arriet, their newly acquired female vessel, and directing the marionettes to clean up the aftermath of the earlier battle against Glen’s band.

The scene outside the mansion was messy. Broken furniture, scattered debris, burning carpets, traces of blood that had darkened as they dried. The marionettes moved under Isa’s command, dragging bodies, repositioning objects, discarded weapons into neat piles, restoring some semblance of order.

Cradled in Arriet’s arms was a gray-haired doll.

Izzy’s gaze lingered on it for a moment.

‘Hmm, was she always this attached to that thing?’

Izzy had a few questions about it, but she quickly dismissed it.

There were more important matters at hand, and whatever strange attachment Isa had developed toward that doll… it didn’t seem immediately dangerous.

It was still night outside. Not long after Arriet had finished her first meal, they had also reaped their first harvest of green mist energy.

Just within a single day, they had accomplished a lot. They had killed the old man Benjamin, taken control of Arriet, and dealt with the intruders. Secured one additional vessel and two marionettes.

And then there was the sleeping girl, the one the black monument referred to as ‘Erin.’

“According to the information provided by the ‘me’ of the previous iteration, this girl isn't particularly important.”

There was only a brief mention of her in the records.

In the first iteration, she had accidentally discovered Izzy’s true body, and discovered the secret chamber in the dining room. Another instance in the second, where she carried Arriet away in a panic.

Aside from those small ripples, she seemed entirely peaceful.

Still, the coming conflict would be far more dangerous. Izzy could not afford unnecessary variables lingering nearby. She knew she should probably send the girl away soon.

Izzy extended her Field Vision, focusing downward. There, inside a cart, Erin lay asleep.

“Now, how should I deal with her?” Izzy considered the options.

They could escort her back to the village. That would remove her from the equation entirely.

Or they could keep her here and make her do chores, using her as a temporary servant before throwing her out.

“Stupid girl.”

Was it cruel to think that way?

Izzy knew herself well. She respected choice.

People who were brave enough or desperate enough to make their own choices deserved respect. Izzy guessed that was why her previous iteration had tolerated Erin’s presence.

If Erin herself truly chose to stay in this mansion, then they would let her stay. She could clean the rooms and cook the meals by her own will. It was her choice.

If Erin died as a result, then it wasn't Izzy’s problem.

“...”

Izzy let that thought fade, pushing Erin’s matter aside for now.

‘As for the next subject.’ Her gaze shifted toward Isa.

“Let me borrow one of them for a moment.”

“Izzy?”

Without waiting for further reaction, Izzy took control of Jack, pushing Isa’s control out of the vessel.

Under her control, Jack’s body straightened as he walked into the kitchen.

The room was quiet, dimly lit, the scent of wood and lingering burning scent still hung in the air.

Jack reached out to the candelabrum embedded on the wall and rotated it with a click.

Immediately, a section behind an ordinary blank painting shifted. The panel slid aside with a scraping sound, revealing the concealed chamber behind it.

“Here it is,” Izzy muttered through Jack's jaw.

Inside, lay the items she had discovered in the previous iteration: a drawing of a crab and the number “23,” alongside the object she was truly interested in.

The bone finger.

“This is the thing that keeps the mansion invisible.”

Through her Field Vision, Izzy could perceive gray mist emanating from the bone. This was the first time she had seen this color.

“If I absorb this, the mansion’s invisibility will disappear.”

For a brief moment, temptation crept into her thoughts.

She could feel her energy reservoir, and it was far from full. To consume such a potent source of energy would be a massive boon.

Who wouldn't be tempted by such a free meal, an easy way to bolster her strength?

‘Let’s think about it later,’ she decided, suppressing the hunger.

She focused her Psychokinesis to lift the bone finger, sending it through the mansion until it landed in the attic.

For now, she would leave it there and decide later.

“...”

With that handled, Izzy shifted focus once again.

She turned Jack’s body away, allowing the panel to slide back into place, restoring the illusion of an ordinary painting.

Next, she directed Jack outside the mansion, toward the wooden door leading to the dark stairs.

She guided him down the basement.

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