Phantasia

“Pretty much, yes. It’s a tricky subject,” said Mr Payne, glancing around the room with a faint smile, “That was originally our purpose. When I was a student here, there was no Godhand presence. We were openly trained to survive in the outside world, and teachers and former students would protect the town. Not long after I became a teacher here, Godhand showed up and started muscling their way into our territory. They began to convince people that we caused the trouble ourselves, and over the next ten years they managed to increase their influence to the point it is today. Now we’re seen as opposition – heretics, if you believe some – so we have to keep a low profile. If we don’t, and if Godhand finds a way of ‘exposing’ us, it would be disastrous.” He focused on a distant point, as if lost in some hazy childhood fantasy. “Bishop Wotan has been trying in earnest to bring us to ‘justice’ for years,”

Phantasia shifted in the chair. “If everyone wants to protect the town, why can’t you just work together? Why fight? The struggle is only causing people pain!”

Mr Payne chuckled. “I remember your Queen Thetis saying the same thing, once.”

Phantasia’s wandering gaze snapped towards him and for a moment her mouth sat agape as she struggled to find words. Queen Thetis herself had lectured him? And he hadn’t even listened to her?

“Well, why can’t you?” she asked. Mr Payne cringed.

“Because… we’re only human, Phantasia,” he said with a resigned sigh, “We do what we believe is best, and since everyone believes something different, that eventually leads to conflicts. Unlike you Fae, we’re not blessed with the knowledge of the heavens and for all any of us know, death is the end of everything. In the end, faith is all we have.”

For a moment, the lines in his face deepened and his eyes sank, as if somehow he had aged a decade, and his aura has retracted into a dense weight. Maybe, she thought, she’d been too harsh on him. She’d been told that, even with their advanced experience, human adults were often as fragile as the children they sought to nourish and protect.

“We’re not blessed,” she whispered, “Even we can fear death,”

Mr Payne pushed his glasses up and smiled. “Absolutely, no one among us is perfect, after all. Now…” he shuffled through his files, “There is something I wanted to ask you, our resident – what did they say – ‘psychic’?” He looked up with a raised eyebrow and grinned.

Has Phantasia been human, she would have blushed. Instead she smiled sheepishly and tried to hide behind her hair. “I had to tell them something!” she said.

“Indeed,” Mr Payne said, laughing, “Queen Thetis did ask that we not disclose your identity without just cause, not only because sometimes people react badly to such news, but also because of-”

“Godhand?”

Payne nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

Phantasia looked down at the floor and sighed. “I don’t like lying to my friends, though,” she said, “How can I protect them if I lie to them?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about, actually,” said Mr Payne, “See the incident earlier was something we’d rather avoid in future. Had it not been for your presence, I really don’t want to know what could have happened,”

A disaster, thought Phantasia, shuddering at the thought of the leansídhe consuming her friends one by one. Even Theseus wouldn’t have been able to escape it.

“In the current climate, with Bishop Wotan’s gaze focused on us adults, we’re finding it more and more difficult to deal with these matters. Any help you could provide would be, well, invaluable,”

Phantasia looked up. “If I can tell them the truth, it’ll be easier for me,”

“That’s your choice,” said Mr Payne, relaxing back in his chair, “I’m sure Queen Thetis will understand.”

Hopefully, thought Phantasia, she would.

***

Chapter 13
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