Page 28 of Possession

It has to count for something that he’s asking for permission. Do you think the anger management and empathy videos ended up helping after all?

Considering it was a joke, his brief but fierce flare of rage catches me off guard. Aris growls—literally growls from inside me.

Aris?

Those people… His emotions stop suddenly, as if he’s suddenly unable to feel anymore, but I know he just cut me off somehow. They will get what is coming to them.

I feel a new, stinging anger that for a moment I think is Aris again, until I realize with a start that it’s my own. Now that I’m free to walk again, even in this creepy place, I’m realizing how terrible it was with the mages. Sunless, endless, terrified, malnourished, bored. No recreation, no interaction.

Maybe we deserve to be free, after everything. Maybe we should be worshiped for a time—treated well, treated fairly. Yes, we needed to be locked away. We couldn’t have been free; it would’ve been wrong, and dangerous. But what they did was wrong, too.

My indignation fuels Aris’ own, who now shoots me the overwhelming, vengeful urge to kill. It’s so potent and nonsensical that I pick up a butter knife at the table and consider lunging for Ryan’s throat. Only his size stops me.

My fingers curl in my lap. No, I say sternly, taking a few deep breaths. No killing.

He is silent for a few seconds. Finally, he says, For now.

I think that’s as good as it’s going to get. Okay, then. It’s your turn.

I’m expecting the same, senseless feeling of sinking like last time—and then, when it doesn't immediately happen, I start to expect pain. Neither come. My stomach does twist a little, though I did just eat. By the time it settles, I’m the one on the inside, and I’ve hardly noticed the change.

Testing, I try to open my mouth to speak, but my lips won’t move; he’s in charge.

As if he were waiting for me to come to grips with the change, Aris waits until then to push our back chair. It makes a screeching noise against the ground, one Aris ignores as he stands and approaches Silva and Ryan.

By now, Silva has put down his book, startled, and Ryan is standing up straighter. Aris likes watching them squirm.

“I want to see the rest of the house,” he says. Unlike yesterday, he doesn’t speak using his own voice—he’s using mine. Even still, Silva and Ryan seem to instinctively know who they’re talking to.

“Yes, o-of course,” Silva splutters and stands with an awkward flourish, his hands folded neatly and tightly in front of himself. At the sight, I find myself surprised that I was ever scared of this man. Then again, he’s completely different around me.

A moment passes, and Aris raises a brow when neither of them move to open the door, which sends Ryan immediately scrambling to do just that. Aris then glides through the open space, more graceful on my feet than I could ever be. He doesn’t seem foolish or young without shoes and wearing a dress that’s too big; he walks with purpose and power.

For a moment, just a moment, I wonder if he really is God.

“How was breakfast?” Silva asks quickly from behind him. “Was anything missing? Is there something you’d like?”

Aris hums to acknowledge him but offers nothing more, clearly more interested in leaving. I have to admit that there’s something intoxicating about his confidence. Without any worries or fears, he takes the world at face-value. Me, I’m almost constantly afraid. Given their obvious disdain for me, I would be glancing at Ryan and Silva every two seconds to check their positions as I wait for them to lash out at me. And then there’s Aris, who walks down the hall like he owns the place.

I do. Didn’t the man say I am entitled to all of their resources?

He has a point.

“What would you like to see first?” Silva says, seeming more composed when he catches up.

Aris pauses to inspect a particularly gory painting. “Everything,” he says, not looking away from the depiction of Antietam, the bloodiest battle in the American Civil War. Again, I wish I could hear his thoughts as he lets out a soft sigh before finally turning to Silva. Ryan is standing behind the older man, looking as starstruck as ever, but Aris keeps his gaze fixed on Silva. “Show me.”

So, he does. For the next four hours, Silva plays tour guide, taking us through every nook and cranny of the humongous estate. It’s about the size of a fortified castle, with twice the secret passages. From old chambers, dusty with disuse, to modern billiard rooms, to a literal dungeon filled with torture devices, nothing is skipped. We visit the ballroom and auditorium, the library, the fourth floor’s balcony that overlooks the impressive grounds: a hedge maze, woods spanning fifty miles in each direction, and large, wrought iron gates.

All the while, we run into no one else. Though the upkeep must be extensive on a place like this, there is no sign of maids or other members of the cult; the absence of others only serves to make the place feel bigger.

By the time we finish, we still aren’t exactly done. There are miles of labyrinthine tunnels under the building. Silva tells Aris where they generally lead and, for now, that is good enough. Aris will observe it all later.

It’s almost impossible to think of where we were yesterday compared to today. Trapped in a wizard’s dungeon to a new, free castle to explore. I don’t know what it means that Aris can take control, I don’t know what his plans are with this cult or what he wants with the world, but I can’t pretend that I’m not a little happy at the prospect of roaming all of this land.

With the way things have changed, I don’t have any choice but to be along for the ride. I don’t like it, but that doesn’t mean I have to hate it either. There are good things, like windows and sunlight and food. There is safety in the reverence of others.

We finish in the foyer. The room itself is about the size of a cathedral’s nave and spans forty feet in height. It is, in a word, ostentatious, but Aris doesn’t even pretend to admire it. He takes a two second once-over before spinning on his heel to address Silva and Ryan.

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