| Psychosis, Pt. 2 |

Each step more labored than the last, Marsia trekked on through the desert. Her sandals oozed sand after every push against the dunes. The sun had just set before her, to the west where she was headed.

BANG! BANG BANG!

A violent wind threw her to her knees. She’d been walking for days now—she was clueless on when she’d last taken a break. Her legs cried out in silence as she collapsed; the rippling dunes began to cover her arms, slowly, sweetly, like a lullaby…

BANG BANG BANG! “I know you’re in there, Miss Lilia. You would do well to open the door.”

Marsia shot awake, her frilly comforter damp with sweat. Once she’d successfully composed herself, she let out a yawn and brushed her hair out of her face. “Have some patience, would you? I’m getting dressed,” she said, not at all out of bed.

Her manager, the one who’d let her go out the night prior, made an exasperated sigh. “I do wish you’d listen to instructions.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Marsia replied, quietly sliding out of her sheets and sneaking over to her dresser. It was made of natural wood, quite the commodity in X2–worth more than its weight in gold. “I’ll open the door once I’m properly clothed. You can wait.”

“Not that,” she grumbled. “I asked exactly two things from you last night.”

Marsia slipped her trench coat on instead of her usual dress. She looked nicer in it, she felt. “I’m fairly certain you asked for far more than two things.”

“Shush. The–”

“Do not tell me shush.”

“Apologies, madam,” she replied with a sarcastic snarl. “The two most important tasks you had. One, you were never to share your name or face with anyone. And two, you were to return to the estate precisely at midnight.”

“Mmhmm,” Marsia said. She donned her boots and finally approached the door to open it. When she did, she found her manager a mess. Hairs pointing astray, eyebags so deep-set they could be seen underneath her sunglasses—it reminded her a bit of Arufa, the girl she’d met in Underside. “You look hideous.”

“You did neither of those things, Miss Lilia. Locri informed me you shared your name and face with a stranger. And you returned at least fifteen minutes late.”

“Locri can—well, yes, I did. She was very kind, though.”

“That’s not the point!” she scowled, disintegrating her shades with a snap of her fingers. Her eyes looked the faintest bit delirious. “I’ve been fired! And your parents will never let you out of the house again!”

“Oh.” Marsia avoided her manager’s electric gaze and instead stared at her own boots. She liked their leather shine, though of course it was synthetic.

“See, look, you dimwit. Your parents showed me this camera footage from where they think is the Overside Monument.” she said. She flicked her wrist, summoning a holographic video player before Marsia’s eyes. She shamefully looked up and watched.

“My name’s Marsia. And you?”

Upon the screen, seemingly taken from a security camera on the monument itself, Marsia experienced again her interaction with Arufa. The image quality was grainy at best, but she could easily make out her extended hand.

“You moron. They told you not to say your name,” Locri had said.

The camera zoomed in and enhanced the interaction, fast-forwarding through the pleasantries. What was clear was, Marsia had removed her facial coverings and given out her name.

But two moments about the recording stuck out as peculiar to her. One, when time should have slowed down, everything continued as normal. It was as if they’d spontaneously backed away from each other. That wasn’t at all how it had felt.

And two, perhaps more strangely, there was a frame when Marsia had turned her body towards the camera, completely by chance. Glowing from her chest was a strange purple sigil, one she had never seen before. In fact, everyone else in the recording had it over their hearts as well.

The manager clicked the video off. “You’re terribly lucky your parents believe this video is from Overside.”

“Um. I… saw that correctly, right?”

“Yes, believe it or not, that was you last night,” she said with a sigh.

“No. The… patterns. Over everyone’s chests. You saw those?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Of course. That crest is the symbol of X2. All those born here have it. What are you on about?”

Marsia blinked. That wasn’t right. She had just put on her trench coat in the mirror, and she hadn’t seen any such symbol. “Hold on just one moment,” she said, shimmying back to her dresser and opening her coat.

Standing before her reflection, sternum exposed, she saw it for the first time. Emblazoned over her chest were five glowing purple lines—three of them parallel, two smaller and perpendicular, as if running as one below the others. Her heart, caged by this symbol, pounded against her ribcage.

“What is this?!” she squeaked, trying to rub the pattern off. With it, her reflection looked unfamiliar, uncanny. “Get it off!”

“Miss Lilia, they’re calling for me downstairs.”

She spun around. “Help me, ma’am!”

“What are you, insane? I’ve got to go. Hopefully I won’t be seeing you again,” her manager said. With a quick adjustment of her suit, she turned away and shut the door. “I bid you…”

…

. . .

. . .

“Adieu.” Marsia blinked and found herself standing before her mirror, half-dressed and full of adrenaline. She took a deep breath, truly out of touch, and tried to recall how she’d gotten there. More than likely, she’d just sleepwalked—it ran in her family. Which annoyed her, since she wanted anything but to be like her parents.

There was a polite knock on her door. Already dressed somehow (she decided not to question it), she opened it just a crack. “Oh, Locri. What’s the problem?”

Locri, in casual clothing for the first time Marsia’d ever known, gave a dejected sigh. “Our manager got fired. I’m disappointed I let you visit Underside.”

She opened the door fully to let Locri in. “Hey, it’s okay. Didn’t really like her anyway. How long does she have to leave?”

“She’s already gone. I saw her letter this morning. I’m worried I could be next.”

Marsia thought about it for a moment, confused at her own confusion. Why did that not make sense? It wasn’t like she’d seen her since their departure the night before. “Don’t worry, you were just protecting me. My parents won’t be upset with you. I’ll even talk to them about it if it comes up.”

“Kind of you, Lady Marsia, but you really don’t have to. I can talk myself out of whatever happens.”

Marsia nodded. “I’m sure you can.”

With the room quiet for a moment, she had time with her thoughts. Something felt odd about the atmosphere, she decided. And then, out of nowhere, she had the urge to ask Locri a question she was sure she knew the answer to.

“Erm, this may sound strange. Locri, do you have some kind of… glowy sigil on your chest? Say, something government-inscribed.”

Locri gave her a hesitant response. “…No?”

“That’s all I needed, thank you.”

“Needed for what…?”

“I’m not sure. It’s like I had some sort of dream.” Marsia sat down on the bedside and let her gaze fall to her feet. “I just can’t remember what it was about.”

“How am I supposed to help you?”

“I’m not quite sure. Perhaps you could lightly slap me? Though I doubt it would do much, seeing as– urk!” Locri threw a sharp jab at her gut, knocking her over on her bed. She curled up and clutched her stomach. “Bleck…”

“I’ve been waiting to do that,” Locri laughed. “Or was that not enough? ‘Cause I got more in me.”

Marsia felt vomit broil at the back of her throat. “No, that’s more than fine.” As she laid on her covers, her thoughts drifted. She felt at ease, despite the pain. Not really thinking, she imagined a gentle layer of sand burying her fingertips. Sand… she saw for a second the sunset dunes she’d traversed.

And in a moment, it all came back to her. Her odd vision was the catalyst to her recollection; she could again remember her talk with the manager, the video hologram, and above all, the glyph drawn over her chest. She understood why she’d asked Locri such an inane question—she understood the significance of her answer. Her manager had lied. But how had she forgotten it all?

Belly still aching, she rolled off the bed and staggered to the mirror. Indeed, that symbol had returned. What did it mean? Marsia, knowing she had a tendency to overreact, tried taking deep breaths to think rationally. She could at least piece together that these marks had been here since before she explored the Underside. They were in the footage—they had to have been.

“Locri.”

“What’s the matter? You want another bruise?”

“One, what is it with you and violence today? Two, come over here and tell me the origin of this… thing. If you would be so kind.”

Locri, confused, approached Marsia in the mirror. She stared down at her, her line of sight reflected through its silver shine. “The symbol of X2? The one that literally everyone has?”

Marsia took in much shallower breath. “Yes, that one. Which you so blatantly denied the existence of just a minute ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did I not specify ‘government-inscribed’?” Locri’s face only contorted in misunderstanding, so Marsia provided a bit more context. “When I asked you if I had a sigil on my chest, one minute ago.”

“I said yes, of course. And you agreed,” Locri replied. “I’m all for a little insanity. Makes things fun. But Lady Marsia, I hope you’re not as delusional as you’re acting.”

“I’m not! These things are new, can’t you see? Why are you pretending they’re par for the course?”

Locri furled her brows and grabbed Marsia by the shoulders. She shook her a little. “Miss Lilia, if you don’t stop talking crazy, I’ll hit you again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again—do you have dementia?”

“I’m trying to stay calm here. When did you hit me before?”

Locri opened her mouth to speak, but not a word spilled out. “…You’re right, I don’t think I did. I’m not sure why I said that.”

“Right. What were we talking about?”

“Uh… drawing a blank here. Ugh, and It felt important, too.”

“My sentiment exactly,” Marsia complained. “I’m so riled up, but I don’t even know what for.”

Racking her brain, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair, still a little messy, trailed down to her waist unevenly. For some reason, her coat was unbuttoned so she could see her own sternum. She looked to the tall ceilings above, hoping they would stir her memory.

“I want to go back.”

“Hm?”

“To Underside. Or really, just anywhere other than this blasted manor.” Her head still tilted back, she inquired, “Don’t you, too?”

“…I do. But for now, you should head downstairs. I’m sure your parents are in mortal peril wondering why you’re five minutes late to breakfast.”

“First meal, worst meal.”

“That’s a terrible slogan. And I’ll be up here planning some way to get us out again, if you so desire.”

“I do very much desire. Thank you, Miss Lonestar.”

“At your service.”

At last, after a quick brush through her hair, she opened the door and walked neatly down the carpeted stairs, blind to the sigil carved deep into her chest.