He folds his hands before him, a paragon of peace and calm. No wonder she likes being here. A false sense of refuge from the sharp edges of the world. She says: “I found it, the archangel mech I’m supposed to pilot. The reason I was brought here all along.”

“I see.”

Misery scrutinizes Jericho. Now that her mind has been enlightened she sees him clearly for what he is: the true nullvoid that has lived within her all these years. Her mother’s dark gift to her. She shouldn’t allow herself to linger in the embrace of her delusions. But her dreams keep drawing her here, and that has to be a sign. All her life she has feared the taint of her mother’s legacy. She ran from the specter of voidsickness that lives in her blood. She watched delusions shred her mother’s mind until there was nothing left of her, and thought she would prefer death if the voidsickness came for her. Misery’s life has orbited this phobia for as long as she’s had memory and the architecture of her soul was shaped by its gravity, an accretion disk surrounding this singular terror.

But things have changed. Held in the protective grip of the Larex Forge, she knows she can no longer be hurt by the nullvoid. This gentle delusion can do her no harm. How soft it is here, how perfectly beautiful. She has no fear. As long as she acknowledges the hallucinatory nature of her dreams, she has control over what they can do to her. And what they can’t. She holds all the power. The Demiurge is showing her the way, breaking down the rock and ice of her and releasing her from dread, shaping her into the mighty shield she can be.

“I know what you are,” she says to Jericho. “It’s all right. You don’t have to pretend.”

The delusion’s brows crinkle. “And what, precisely, do you think I am?”

“A mirage. The nullvoid working through me, sucking up my wants and spitting out something that can lead me astray. Something to whiteout my focus and motivation, to drive me to madness and distraction.”

“A distraction, you say?”

“It won’t work, though. I can see through you. And you’re a nice delusion. But I know my mission and my duty.”

Jericho looks slightly baffled for a moment. Then he bursts into laughter. “That’s sweet, Misery. You think I’m the man of your dreams.”

She likes the way his face crinkles with joy. “You’re not too bad. I could do worse.”

He shakes his head. “Why are you still here, then? If you know that I am a delusion, would it not be easier to simply walk away? To resist the temptation?”