I Loaded the Mysticism Panel

Waste Rock Lane. The wall clock downstairs had just struck ten.

First, a silence descended upon the end of the street.

There were no footsteps, no sounds of carriages. Even the stray cat that always yowled in the lane at this hour was silent.

All the scattered sounds of an ordinary night had been gently suppressed.

A figure materialized at the mouth of the lane.

A shadow beneath her supported the tips of her shoes. The hem of her cloak hung low, unmoved by the wind.

Something invisible was carrying her.

Mrs. MacNeil clutched an Ebony Card in her hand.

Her gaze traveled over the low eaves of Waste Rock Lane, settling on a second-floor window of the Williams Family home.

A shadow spread from the soles of her shoes, bypassed the courtyard gate, and flowed in through the crack underneath.

The window hadn’t opened, yet she was already standing in Richard’s room.

The Spirit Medium’s gaze fell upon the young man’s face, and she let out a sigh.

’I’m still too late.’

By the time she received the call, the boy had already been drawn into the dream.

It would take twenty minutes at the very least to get from her hotel to Waste Rock Lane.

In those twenty minutes, it was already over.

Mrs. MacNeil stood at the foot of the bed for a moment before taking a small, pitch-black iron box from an inner pocket of her cloak.

After taking stock of her ritual items, she first sprinkled a small pinch of salt at each of the four corners of the bed.

The grains of salt landed on the wooden floor without a sound.

She crushed some olive leaves and placed the pieces around Richard’s pillow, one in each of the four cardinal directions.

Last was the fresh water.

She uncorked the container, dipped her index finger to collect a single drop, and touched it to the center of Richard’s brow.

The droplet didn’t slide down his skin. It remained in place, slowly being absorbed.

Mrs. MacNeil’s left hand still clutched the Ebony Card.

The Curse Spell she chanted caused the Spirits in the room to begin to vibrate.

With every syllable she uttered, a thin mist in the room trembled.

The core of the ritual consisted of three phrases.

The first phrase bound the flesh: If the soul cannot return, the body shall not decay, but await its homecoming.

The second phrase gathered the soul: If the body perishes afar, the soul shall not scatter, but return to its rightful place.

The third phrase sealed the connection: If the link between body and soul is severed, this card shall serve as the guide to mend the line.

After reciting the third phrase, she stopped.

The Spirit Medium put away the iron box and swept the olive leaf fragments away with a light brush of her fingers.

The leaves vanished from the floor, as if scattered into the air by an unseen breath, and the grains of salt disappeared as well.

Only after the ritual was complete did she allow herself a moment to observe the young man’s condition.

She extended her Spiritual Vision, which stopped three inches from the surface of Richard’s body.

Mrs. MacNeil’s brow furrowed, then slowly relaxed.

The young man’s Ether Micro-Cycle was operating with extreme stability. There were no signs of it being torn by an external force, nor the kind of disarray that would suggest his consciousness had been dragged away.

His soul was still settled securely within his body, even if "he" wasn’t home at the moment.

’He’s gone somewhere else, but he’s not in trouble.’

’That’s good.’

Mrs. MacNeil stood at the foot of the bed for a while longer.

She recalled the words of her teacher:

"In our line of work, the most frightening thing isn’t arriving too late, but arriving too soon. If you intervene too often, the child never grows a backbone of their own."

The ritual she had just performed was a safety net.

Ultimately, it was up to him to hold his own.

Mrs. MacNeil had the shadow rise from the floor once more, supporting the soles of her feet.

The Spirit Medium passed right through the wall.

Back at her hotel, Mrs. MacNeil examined the Ebony Card.

There were no signs of consumption on the ebony’s surface; the safety-net ritual hadn’t been activated.

She picked up the phone. "Master, the boy is fine."

The other end of the line was quiet for a long moment.

"That circle tonight... did he make it in?"

"He’s in."

A faint sigh came from the other end of the line.

"Very well. Let him walk his own path."

............

「Meanwhile, inside the Divine Pantheon Salon of the dreamscape.」

Just as Richard’s mind was racing, Hecate moved.

From her throne, she raised her left hand, palm facing the two newcomers. With her fingers held together, she made a beckoning gesture downward.

The ochre-white Curtain covering Richard began to peel away, and he instinctively held his breath.

Once it had fully retracted, he too saw the projection of a divine name.

The difference was, this time it was his own.

Messenger and god of commerce, protector of orators and Scholars, Exile of souls, Boundary Crosser, god of eloquence and cunning.

Divine Name—Hermes

As the divine name was projected, a Golden-Winged Double Serpent Staff and a Traveler’s Hide materialized above his head.

His own Ether Micro-Cycle seemed to be gently "aligned" by this concept that spanned millennia.

It was as if the concept was earnestly suggesting to him: ’Your form could be like this.’

His micro-cycle instinctively resisted for a moment, but then he reined it in.

Richard didn’t actively embrace the suggestion, but he didn’t push it away completely, either.

He remained neutral.

At the same time, the divine name for the other newcomer was announced.

Goddess of retribution, Wielder of the Balance Scale, Bearer of the whip and reins. Those who go to excess shall receive her punishment.

Divine Name—Nemesis

A long whip and a Balance Scale appeared. The pans of the scale trembled slightly before settling into a state of deliberate imbalance.

Richard glanced sideways at her.

Her body stiffened for half a second, but then she seemed to relax.

Richard understood that relaxation.

A person who has been misunderstood for a long time develops a dangerous sense of trust when they are finally seen for who they are.

Hecate’s true masterstroke wasn’t the clay coin, but this very moment.

In front of everyone, she had replaced a "safe, generic codename" with one that "made you feel as if you’d been seen through completely."

’He sounded a warning bell in his mind.’