Astral surveyed the campus from the Headmaster’s office. The steady breathing pulse of brilliant energy radiated from the inhabitants of buildings below. The towers were black, slow, swirling shadows against the protection of the shimmering demon shield which encased the campus. Dark tendrils stretched and twisted along the inner ring, pulsating in tandem with the souls who resided nearby. In its lazy waking state, its influence was minimal, but existed. In a few weeks, Astral wouldn’t be at all surprised to see that the inner rings had slipped to the influence of the demon, corrupting their souls one selfish act a time.

When the demon beneath the school awakened there would be no saving these people. She wasn’t sure if they could be saved even if she killed the demon. Exposure to the corrupting influence had a way of altering a person’s perspective and forming new habits. The linger effects of the corruption could take a lifetime to combat.

Avery stood at attention by the door, waiting for the rest of their party to arrive. ‘A status report,’ Astral reminded herself, ‘that is all that is needed here.’ The extent of her fears could not be shared. Not with the Headmaster and not with her grandfather.

She had spent the last month catching the E.M.I. up with her surveys of the campus, noting problem areas for increased patrols, particularly around the outer-shell of the shield where husks and constructs were beginning to congregate in ever increasing numbers.

Last year, her core devised a plan. It was imperative that she attend the Academy this year.

She was the only one who could get into the Council’s Academy without too much political resistance. She knew this for a fact, as echoes of her other selves embedded their events surrounding of the school into her memories. Despite the variety of their experiences, she felt blind to the situation, as though she were missing steps to reach her objective – kill the demon that sleeps beneath the Academy.

Vague memories of a life not quite hers implied that the school was an asset for years more, churning out some of the finest soldiers. The situation had been different then, she supposed. The Council wasn’t quite the Council she knew now.

When she toured the school with her grandfather, at her behest, her core shared with her the two reasons she needed to act sooner rather than wait for the seal to break in fifteen years.

The first reason was Seth. She’d been looking for the boy who would become a legendary Demon Hunter. She needed to correct something about him before he built the meat of his reputation. She had vague recollection that meeting him over a decade later, was too late. It left him weak, exposed to human predators, vulnerable to the things that really didn’t matter. What was it?

Right. Validation. That was his problem. As a hero, she saw the purity of his soul, the strength he wield, and the sheer force of his will power. She was impressed. If he focused himself, he would be near unstoppable. And she was right, having barely managed to kill him at the height of his power. As a man, she saw Seth over-extended himself and altered his path on the whims of his superior’s misguided commands. He was an obedient dog of war, lapping at his master’s feet begging to be told that he was a good boy.

She saw it now, in the younger Seth, vying for her approval that she could never give him. She needed him to shape his own identity, before someone had the audacity to dictate who he was.

The second reason was to eradicate the demon beneath the school while it was in a weakened state, preventing the disaster that was meant to occur in fifteen years. Lives would be saved, corrupted souls significantly reduced, resulting in a stronger spiritual resonance to tap into later to mend the veils.

When she entered the program chamber for the first time with Seth, she hadn’t known about Videl. The Seth she recalled, the legendary hero, would not have picked up on the spiritual manipulation, and therefore wouldn’t have known to have told her about it during one of their many lifetimes.

Poor Videl. Perhaps he had fallen to the demon while Seth was serving in the war. Videl had offered himself to Seth, beckoning him to the depths of the program chamber and preparing him for the role of Guardian. What remained of his strength had merged with Seth. A rare blessing. Two-fold, if what Seth recounted was true, then Videl’s own strength had been blessed by another Guardian before he ascended to his duties. Maybe Seth’s skills had less to do with his own natural talents.

The doors to the office slid open. Polite respectful chatter filled the room. Astral didn’t turn, instead glancing at the reflections of the new party members. Lord Daamon, her uncle Damien and current head of their house, wheeled his way into the room with the Headmaster at his side. They discussed potential upgrades.

Since she had last seen her uncle, Damien had lost weight. Too much weight. He was growing frail, his limbs skeletal, his face pale and gaunt. The whirring of his mechanical skeletal support device hummed with constant activity. Her uncle kept a clean appearance and wore expensive suits to off-set the dire state of his health. She frowned as she noted the silver threads trailing behind her uncle. She had warned him on too many occasions about the creation of his dolls.

Her uncle’s doll flared with his soul. He was getting pretty good at projecting himself into empty vessels. She made a note to put a stop to his studies the hard way. He had been warned enough times that these particular pursuits lead to…

She shuddered at the nightmarish memories that weren’t quite her own. She recalled in vivid detail, the life-sized porcelain dolls skittering through the rooms. The way their jaws dislocated and spread apart in a mechanical fashion but borne of organic material. These dolls decorated their elaborate nests with strips of flesh and organs. Their future memory haunted her.

These monsters were not the intended creation. They were created nonetheless.

She’d deal with him later.

She admired the form of manipulation her uncle had opted to use. Illness made people uncomfortable at the best of times. No one wanted to be reminded of their mortality. In an age where eugenic practices had made a valiant effort to purge bad genes, people like Damien were often treated as weak, less intelligent, lazy, and entitled. Her uncle had shown her the propaganda campaigns that had spread long before the militarization of the nation gave rise to the Regime. They needed strong able-bodied soldiers. Anyone who couldn’t contribute was viewed as a drain on the system. Much of those early sentiments existed today.

Damien’s success was achieved because he had applied his engineering mind to his magic craft as an artificer, which lead to the Demon Shield technology.

With Damien as her teacher, Astral had learned how to manipulate a situation through biased expectations. He was very clever. She supposed all the Daamon’s were in their own right.

He smiled at Astral’s reflection as though he had fooled her with his toy. “This is the girl?” he asked the Headmaster. In the early stages of their ‘Astral as her own proxy’ ruse, Damien had offered to make her a doll. She’d have to be at the Academy to do the leg work, but should anything go amiss, they might have a viable backup present. She found the idea of having a likeness of her repulsive and inviting trouble.

It wouldn’t matter anyway. In the distant past, there were attempts at carvings, hieroglyph, and statues. The faces faded as though eroded by sandstorms. In the end, only two conflicting symbols were allowed to exist. Her name. Her real name.

“It is,” he said. Astral noted the ‘it’.