The Second Archon War: Animula Choragi 9

Animula Choragi 9: Se vuol ballare

The Théâtre de l’Ondine was a recent construction by Parisian standards. Built in the 1960s, it was constructed in a Neoclassic style that evoked a much older building. It wasn’t a large theater, seating a maximum of 338 people, and typically hosted small-scale productions put on by their own theater troupe. 

However, in recent times, that company had been rocked by several difficulties, mostly financial. When another theater had offered a better contract, the players had abandoned the Théâtre de l’Ondine, leaving them high and dry. 

Marcel Vautrin was the owner of the Théâtre de l’Ondine and looked about as broke and world-weary as he was. He was short, only 167 centimeters with his shoes on, and balding with more than a bit of a paunch. His somewhat rumpled clothing and hangdog expression fit the worn upholstery and carpets of the theater. 

“Well, Émile. Ready for one last hurrah?” Marcel asked with a weary sigh as he opened the door to the theater, taking a long drag on his cigarette as he did so. 

“Ah, it will be different this time, Mr. Vautrin. This play, it is popular! With new songs! And in this environment, well, who cannot connect with the theme of révolution!” Émile Caron said with his usual passion. 

Émile was young, barely 30, with a thin mustache and sparkling dark eyes. He was talented, but inexperienced. He had put on only two plays so far, Le Gendre de Monsieur Poirier, and an original production,  Les Ombres du Pouvoir. The first was a somewhat obscure play from 1854 that had flopped horribly, and the other a more modern tragedy set in a Paris besieged by obvious stand-ins for the Slaughterhouse Nine. To say it had flopped would be an understatement, and the two disasters in a row were why the desperate gamble of an open casting call was being attempted. 

“We should never have tried your play. It was shit,” Marcel grumbled. 

Émile winced but didn’t argue. The truth was that Marcel had been as eager to try the new play as Émile. Despite his now crotchety exterior, Marcel was an aficionado of theater, and longed to see France return to the cultural glory and relevance it had once held. Paris had once been the tourist destination of the world, but Tokyo and now Baghdad were taking that spot handily. Not only were both destinations known to be immune to Endbringers and S-Class threats, but Tokyo had giant robots, anime, and Thunder Thighs the God Empress, while Baghdad had the House of Wisdom, forest spirits, and, oh yes, real-life dinosaurs. 

Not to mention Germany was right next door, and there was always a chance if you visited, you might just get to see the Tone Deaf Bards. 

“Les Misérables is an old standby. It will make money, then we can use that to hire new actors and experiment again. Besides, we might just find a diamond in the rough or two, eh?” Émile encouraged, keeping his strides short to match Marcel’s. 

“Only if you can think of something actually good this time,” Marcel grumbled, but he didn’t say no. He sighed. “Well, at least it’s a proper French play. And yes, with the world overrun by tyrants…it’s not a bad choice, I suppose. But dammit, we need to find some real talent. Not the usual trash that comes to this sort of thing. Pah! We might as well be a community theater!” 

“There are a few coming that I think have potential, some of them have experience,” Émile said consolingly. “We have a bit before they’re supposed to start coming. We’ll be looking for our Jean Valjean and Javert first, then the Cosettes and Fantine. We’ll probably find our Eponine and the rest along the way.”

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Marcel said, ensconcing himself in the front row along with a pen and notebook. 

Despite Marcel’s sour attitude, when the hopeful actors began to arrive, he took studious notes, listening attentively when they recited lines or sang, and talking quietly with Émile on his own opinions. 

Things proceeded apace, right up until it was time for the female leads to audition. The first ruined Marcel’s improving mood with an enthusiastic young actress who tried to sing I Dreamed a Dream, but quite simply did not have the range or experience. 

“Yes, yes, thank you, that’s quite enough,” Marcel interrupted, shooing her off the stage before she was halfway done. The young lady burst into tears and hurried off stage, and Marcel got some angry looks from the other women waiting. “I need actresses, not amateurs! You, next! What’s your name!” 

“Marcel,” Émile hissed. “We need to not scare them off!” 

“I am perfectly polite when I can hear singing, not noise! NEXT!” Marcel barked. 

A nervous young woman stepped up to the microphone, swallowing and trying to smile. 

“Name?” Marcel demanded, folding his arms over his chest. 

“F-Furina de Fontaine.” 

“Fine, begin!” 

Marcel rolled his eyes when the woman squeaked and began to sing. He very nearly cut her off as well, but Émile put a hand on his arm, and Marcel quieted. 

But then, the woman continued. Slowly, Marcel unfolded his arms. When the first high note was hit, both Marcel and Émile stood up. This woman wasn’t singing a song. She was singing to Marcel’s very heart. He could feel his frustration and betrayal, of his crushed dreams and fears, of how his life had gone so wrong. By the time she finished, Émile was weeping openly, holding on to Marcel’s shoulder, while Marcel himself had unashamed tears leaking down his face. 

When she finished, Marcel dug out a handkerchief and blew his nose into it, then wiped his face. “Thank you, Fantine. Next.”

“Um, it’s Fontaine. Furina de Fontaine,” the woman said, back to sounding nervous. 

“Hmm? Oh yes. You’re Fantine,” Marcel said, pointing to her. He nodded to the rest of the women. “You can still audition, but she’s my Fantine.” 

Normally, such an announcement would have provoked an outright revolt at an open casting call. But there were no dry eyes amongst the waiting women, and while a few looked upset at the pronouncement, most just nodded. 

Not, however, the woman who was still on stage. “Sir, I must protest! That is not Just.”

Marcel blinked, turning his gaze back to Ms. de Fontaine. “I beg your pardon?”

Gesturing to the waiting women, Furina made her case: “These women have just as much a right to your consideration as I, Mr. Vautrin. Please, listen with an open heart and mind to each of them, and choose the best actress for the role. To simply give it to me before you have heard everyone would be a gross Injustice.”

For a moment, there was a heavy silence, the room holding its breath. Then, Marcel laughed. “I do not think I have ever had an actress protest when she is given a leading role! But very well. I will do this Justice, as you request. Though I do not think many will match your performance, Ms. de Fontaine.” 

As the rest of the hopeful actresses auditioned, they noted a change had come over the owner and director both. Marcel was smiling, laughing, a twinkle in his eyes. Even his clothes seemed in better repair somehow. Émile was still earnest, however it no longer smacked of desperation, but confidence. 

Something new had come to Théâtre de l’Ondine. A feeling that had not been felt in France since the fall of the Fifth Republic. 

Hope. And Justice. 

In the back of the theater, high up in what should have been an empty box, the divine performance of Furina de Fontaine had not gone unnoticed. Charlotte Lustria, Intrepid Reporter, had not only gotten video of the entire song, but she’d also taken down word for word the exchange between Marcel and Furina. Even now, she was furiously scribbling away notes. 

My Vision did not react to Furina’s song, but when I used Elemental Sight, I did detect an abundance of Elemental Energy, along with something else. Furina is always highlighted in my Elemental Sight, but when she sang, I saw a second figure standing with her, hands on her shoulders. The figure looked to be of a similar height and build to Furina, though I could only see her outline. I assume it was a woman, but I am uncertain. 

By the reaction of the audience, I know that the Hydro Archon had to be present. This reporter has carefully studied reactions to when Archons unveil themselves, from civilian reactions to when the Narukami Oshogo slew the Leviathan, to when Barbados first played in Bremen, to when the Tsaritsa wove New Moscow. 

There can be no doubt in my mind: Furina de Fontaine IS the Hydro Archon. She may deny it, but the Truth will prevail! I will continue my investigation until such a time as I can offer absolute and definitive proof that she is indeed the-

Charlotte’s furious scribbling was interrupted by her phone buzzing. She picked it up, then winced. She had three missed calls from Yen, and two from school. The latest was a text message. 

Where are you!? The school called me because you were absent! This is the third time, Charlotte! Please tell me you did not ditch school to audition for that damn play! 

dont b dumb 😠 im doing something important k this is a breaking story and i had 2 b there 👍

You’re at the theater, aren’t you? I’m calling Furina right now, and Barbara. 

ugh i dont no y u care i got 🅰️s  in my classes and a 3.9 my grades r gud just 🧊 kk?????

I will not chill. You are 14, Charlotte, and I am your guardian! And I will not have you playing hooky so you can act like paparazzi. 

🙄 srsly. 🧊😂🧊🦌

I am on my way. Don't try to run.

watch this then u tell me this isnt important k? 💯 🎥👌

There. Charlotte sent the video of Furina’s audition. That ought to shut her sister up. If she wouldn’t gush over her girlfriend knocking them flat, then Charlotte didn’t know her sister. 

This does not excuse anything. We are going to talk, young lady. With your dean. 

🧊🙄🙄🙄🧊🦌🍑💦⛲💋🍑🏳️‍🌈👉👌🧊💯

Yennifer didn’t respond, which Charlotte chose to interpret as her winning the argument with her brilliant use of emojis. For the next half an hour, she recorded Julie from the Chinese dinner, whose rendition of  On My Own similarly caused that spectral woman to appear, as did Barbara singing One More Day. She was furiously sketching just such an occurrence when a hand firmly grasped her by the ear and yanked her upright. 

Charlotte didn’t react with her knee-jerk response of tapping into her Vision and freezing her assailant solid, mostly because they’d ripped her Vision right out from her necklace, and, well, she had a pretty good idea of who was doing it. 

“Ow-ow-ow! Not so rough, Yen!” Charlotte whined as she was hauled to her feet. 

“This,” her sister hissed, holding her phone so close to Charlotte’s face her eyes crossed. “Is grossly inappropriate, Charlotte Maya Lustria! I may not be fully versed in emoji speak, but I think I can surmise what you are suggesting! And to your own SISTER?! What is wrong with you?!” 

“Sorry, sorry, but LOOK!” Charlotte pleaded, glancing down at the theater. The owner and director were frowning up at them, and the person on stage auditioning had faltered. 

“Apologies, everyone,” Yennifer called. “Just a stowaway. I’ll be dealing with her directly.” 

“Yennifer? Charlotte?” Furina asked, standing up from where she’d been sitting with some of the author hopefuls. 

Charlotte tried to wave, but Yennifer dragged her off into the hall. 

“Ow, look, stop, LOOK!” Charlotte begged, waving her sketches. 

Yennifer snatched the papers with her offhand. Then froze. Charlotte managed to extricate herself, and stood there, massaging her abused earlobe and glaring angrily at her sister. Didn’t she UNDERSTAND!? 

“Charlotte…what is…what is this?” Yennifer managed, looking up, her eyes wide. 

“I don’t know. And that’s the point! I saw them with my elemental vision!” Charlotte snatched back her Vision from Yennifer, who let it go, and opened her spiritual eyes again. “When I look, I can see-Sainte Mère de Dieu!” 

There, standing right by her sister, was that same spectral woman! The ghost put her finger to her lips, leaned forward, and tapped Yennifer on the shoulder. Spinning, Yennifer looked about, just in time to see what looked like to Charlotte’s eyes a brightly glowing woman of near pure Hydro Energy dash down the hall. It was so bright, tears came to Charlotte’s eyes, but she still saw the ghostly woman step into Furina and vanish. 

“Yennifer, Charlotte, what are you doing here?” Furina gasped, panting and slightly out of breath. Why did she pretend so hard? Shouldn’t an Archon have more stamina? Even a regular person would. Charlotte could run a 5k and barely break a sweat. 

Then again, she couldn’t have before she’d gotten her Vision, so maybe her perspective on that was slightly skewed. 

“I was recording your audition, and Yennifer came to check on me,” Charlotte said, straightening her clothes and glasses as she turned off her elemental sight. Keeping it on around Furina too long gave her a headache. Well, not all the time. Sometimes, for reasons that Charlotte had not been able to suss out yet, Furina looked like a completely normal person with nary a drop of elemental energy in her. 

Alright, most of the time. It was a rare occasion when she’d glowed this brightly. 

But Charlotte was going to uncover the Truth. 

“I…no. Well, Charlotte was recording you, but I just found out she cut school to do it,” Yennifer said, turning her steely-eyed Lawyer Glare on Charlotte. 

Charlotte ignored it. Steely-eyed glares were a part and parcel of the trade when you were an Intrepid Reporter. They also usually meant you were on the trail of something exceptionally juicy that desperately needed to be brought to light. The Truth could not be hidden from Charlotte. 

“What? Charlotte, why would you do that? Was it to cheer Barbara and I on?” Furina asked, baffled. 

Barbara was aware that Charlotte was there, and had in fact, let her in through a side entrance so she could ensconce herself. As Charlotte’s Trusty Sidekick, Barbara was very useful for that sort of thing. As well as being a pretty good video editor. Charlotte could edit, but she didn’t have the artistic flare that Barbs did. 

“I had to see the start of your dazzling careers! I got the whole thing on camera!” Charlotte called. 

“Furina, I’m sorry, but I need a few private moments with my sister. Make my apologies to the staff, and I’ll have Charlotte out of your hair shortly,” Yennifer said. 

Uh oh. It didn’t take the investigational skills of an Intrepid Reporter to realize that Charlotte might just be in far deeper trouble than she’d thought. Maybe that text about Yen and Furina had been a bridge too far. Charlotte had always had trouble knowing when she was pushing the envelope beyond the pale, and, well, getting her Vision hadn’t helped any in that regard. 

“Oh, yes, um, sorry,” Furina said. She bit her lip, then added, “But…I’m glad you came, Yen. It…it means a lot to me.”

That immediately erased all doubts from Charlotte’s mind that what she had been doing hadn’t been 100% the right idea, and that she was still pursuing The Truth. She gave Furina a big grin and two thumbs up, especially since Yennifer blushed, though she only nodded as Furina retreated. 

Then Yennifer grabbed Charlotte’s arm and hauled her towards the emergency exit, though her sister paused before dragging Charlotte outside. “Alright. What are these images?”

“While I was recording with my camera, I turned on my elemental sight to watch the auditions. For three of them, this spectral figure appeared: Furina, Julie, and Barbara. I checked all the others, but nothing. This ghost would show up, put her hands on the shoulders of whomever was auditioning, then kiss them on the cheek and vanish when they were done! Well, except for Furina. She stayed by Furina’s side until she went back to take a seat, but then she walked into Furina!” 

“In fact!” Charlotte said, pointing directly at Yennifer. “That same woman, just now, showed up and touched YOU! It was HER you felt right before Furina appeared! So, I ask you, Miss Lustria, what does THAT tell you?! I posit that there is no other conclusion than that Furina de Fontaine is, in fact, the-”

“No. She’s not.” 

The deadpan delivery brought Charlotte up short, and right as she was reaching her Dramatic Reveal too! The nerve! Her sister really had no sense of timing at all. 

Or, well, maybe she did, and that hers was way too good and undermining Charlotte’s brilliant arguments. Damn lawyers. 

“Look, Lotte,” Yennfer sighed, running her hand through her hair and grimacing. “I thought she was the Hydro Archon when she arrived. But I’ve spent time around Lord Barbados. I’ve seen actual miracles happen. I was there when the Storm blew the Fatui right out of Riga. Furina has…odd powers. But she’s not an Archon. Um Gottes Willen! I had to walk the poor girl through her first period! Whatever she was before she came to Earth Bet, and I think she was probably a lot more than she can admit to herself, she’s just an ordinary girl now, who is lost, alone, and afraid. And she needs our help and support. Not for us to ‘expose her truth’ or whatever flea in your ear you have.”

“She’s lying to us, Yen! Maybe herself too, but the Truth must be known!”

“The Truth? Open your eyes, Charlotte. Furina doesn’t need the truth. She needs Justice. And right now? Right now, that means showing her mercy. You will-”

Yennifer blinked, cocking her head to one side. As if hearing an unseen voice. “You will…”

Charlotte’s eyes went wide. She recognized that expression, that tension in the air. “Say it out loud!” she demanded, pulling out her extra notebook. “Say what you hear out loud!” 

“I…” Yennifer swallowed, then began in a sing-song voice,

The court is now in session 

Let the defendant rise! 

You will stand for Justice 

No matter your foe's size. 

Though you wear a mask of Duty, 

Your spirit shall not fade

Shout forth your loud objection! 

Daughter of Law’s shade

And then, a glowing blue gem, not the icy blue of Charlotte’s Vision, but the deep blue of the sea, fell into Yennifer’s outstretched hand. Both sisters stared at the Vision, Yennifer in clear shock, Charlotte in giddy delight. 

“You see!? It was her! You heard her voice, didn’t you!” Charlotte cried, grabbing Yennifer by the shoulders. 

“No,” Yennifer said slowly, gripping her Vision tightly. She looked up and met Charlotte’s eyes. “No, Charlotte. I did not hear Furina. I heard someone else. But she’s here. Come on. We’ve got to tell the world. Looks like you got your big break after all.”

Charlotte could barely believe it. That was impossible! Furina had to be the Hydro Archon! She was the one who gave out Visions! Charlotte herself had heard the Tsarita’s own voice in her head, terrifying as that was, when she’d gotten her own Vision a few short months ago. 

Later reports would show that while everyone who received a Vision did hear a voice in their heads, none of them reported hearing Furina de Fontaine’s voice, even as famous as she would become. At least, not initially. 

It would be some time before Charlotte was vindicated, but then again, for all her reporting skills, she hadn’t thought of one thing. 

No one outplayed Focalors at the game of intrigue. Not even Heaven itself. 

Fortuna jerked upright in bed, then stumbled around in the darkness, not even bothering to dress herself as she wrapped a blanket about her shoulders and fumbled for the door. She was still trying to find the door when it opened. 

“Tyche? Ma’am, what’s wrong?” a voice said in the blackness. 

The world about Fortuna was always dark now. It had been a week since she’d blinded herself by destroying her Path, and now she was on house arrest at Mount Cheyenne. Well, no one was calling it that, they said she was under ‘observation,’ but in the end it amounted to the same thing. 

“She’s here! Wake Doctor Mother, wake everyone! She’s here!” Fortuna said urgently. 

Strong hands gripped her arm, steadying her, and then tried to force her back to bed. “Relax, ma’am. Who’s here?”

“The Hydro Archon! Call the control center! I saw Visions descending from heaven! New stars have appeared in the sky! You have to tell everyone, she’s here! My stars are crying out, they will soon awaken, as soon as my mind matches hers!” 

 “What? Hendrix, call control, ask them if what she’s saying is true.”

“Just because I destroyed the False Path and am blind doesn’t mean I can’t see!” Fortuna fumed. They’d never treated her like this before! She almost asked the Path how to get out of this situation, how to manipulate these soldiers, or disable them, so she could do what she wanted. But her Path was gone. She’d killed it herself. 

They made the call, and Fortuna let them set her back on the edge of her bed. But a few minutes later, they got confirmation. 

“Director Tabib wants Asset Tyche brought to the main conference chamber. She’s right: half a dozen new constellations in the last hour, all of a new element. The Hydro Archon is here.”

They put Fortuna in a wheelchair to her annoyance. She wasn’t crippled, she could walk. She just couldn’t see where she was going. If they would just get her a cane, or maybe one of those seeing-eye dogs…

Well, it was probably faster to be wheeled, and they arrived at the conference chamber soon enough. Fortuna hopped out of her wheelchair and scrambled the last few feet, only to bump into the table and wince at it. Life had been so much easier when a little god had whispered in her ear about where everything was.

Easy because it was a lie. Easy because it was the way to death. But she’d escaped that, now. 

Or so she prayed. 

“Contessa, there you are,” Doctor Mother’s voice said. “I-”

“Fortuna! I’m not Contessa. Not anymore,” she insisted. “Who else is here?” 

“I’m here,” Wyatt said with a yawn. “So’s Honey, Hannah, and the President will be-”

There was a gust of wind, and then,“Right here,” Rebecca said, then a strong hand gently guided Fortuna to a chair and helped her sit down. “Good to see you up and about, Contessa.”

“Fortuna! It’s Fortuna!” 

“Right, sorry.” There was the soft scrape of a chair, and then Rebecca sighed. “David refuses to leave the front lines. There’s heavy fighting still, so I’m loath to pull him away regardless. Whatever the Simurgh told him, it did a number on his psyche. You’re sure you don’t remember, Fortuna?” 

Biting her lip, Fortuna shook her head. She did remember, of course. But that was not a secret she could share. If she did, it would utterly destroy David. He had but one chance. And Fortuna had to give it to him, no matter the risks. 

But was that vision a true one, or one of the False Path’s delusions? 

She didn’t know. 

Of course, Fortuna had told her mother and the others the truth: that Eden’s shards, subtly, had been directing them down a course that would result in the Cycle being completed. They had thought Eden ‘dead’, but it seemed she had not truly died, only been made insensate or so stupid that only her basic instincts were still running. Maybe it had been a good thing that the Tsaritsa had taken her corpse from Cauldron. Though that was an opinion Fortuna didn’t even think too loudly, lest the others hear it. 

“We’ve got multiple confirmed Hydro Visions appearing,” her mother said. “The first was in Illinois, at the University of Chicago Law School. A senior lecturer received one while giving an early morning class. We got it live on camera, only a few moments after Fortuna awoke and said they were appearing. Constellation appears to be a pulpit, we’re calling it Pulpito Loquentis.”

“Next, we have Keiga. Timing isn’t known, but a massive draconic constellation has appeared, and it’s clearly her. Whether or not she manifests a physical Vision is up for debate: her husband doesn’t seem to have one, but he does have a constellation and he can manipulate Electro.”

Doctor Mother went through the other four Visions, ending with one they were calling The Codex of Law, caught on camera by a French schoolgirl and posted to her online video blog on the Dailymotion website. 

“Patterns? Can we build a profile for the Vision Holders and Archon?” Rebecca asked. Or no, Madam President now.

Contessa had already gotten a new magic eight ball and named it Eighty Squared, which she'd infused with elemental energy. She shook it vigorously now, though that was mostly theater. She knew the Hydro Archon from her Dreams.

“She is of Justice, and will be known as the Angel of Justice. Do not mistake her for Judgement: her Aspect and Ideal are more for the rights of the oppressed and mercy for the condemned, for water brings healing. She can be stern and will drown those who perpetuate injustice.”

“She is playful and capricious as the waves, and she has a love of drama. Like Barbados, she is a Muse of the Arts, especially the Theater.” 

“Her Allogens will be Paragons. Those who give everything to an ideal, especially if it is their art. They will wear a mask, and put on a personal one, but unlike those of Cryo they can walk but one path. She will favor artists, actors, lawyers, judges, and those who seek Justice. And you will find her…”

Contessa shook Eighty² again, and listened carefully. Then she nodded. “You will find her upon the grandest stage.”

Then she glared around the table, made somewhat difficult by the fact she couldn't see where anyone was sitting. “There! Still think I’m not a Thinker 12?”

“Fortuna,” Doctor Mother said quietly. “That was very helpful, but…”

“But you destroyed your Path. At the advice of an Endbringer,” President Rebecca said. “That was one of our greatest tools and advantages. And it's gone. Just like that.”

Hot tears of anger and frustration formed on Fortuna’s cheeks, and she did not dash them away. “It was leading us to Tartarus! To the completion of the Cycle!” 

“It gave us near-perfect information,” Wyatt countered. “Now that we knew its aims, we could have compensated.”

“No, no, NO! Haven't you ever heard any stories?! Don't you recall Arachne, who thought herself cleverer than the gods?! Or Sysiphys who thought he could trick Death?! What happened to them!? Cursed and destroyed, humbled and vanquished!” 

“Fortuna, those are just stories. Myths. Told by superstitious people to explain the natural world,” Doctor Mother said gently. “What about your analysis?”

A new voice spoke, and Fortuna felt a chill go down her spine. It was Albedo. “The loss of Path to Victory hampers my ability to analyse. However, I will provide you with my best estimation. The individuals who have received Hydro Visions do indeed seem to be those with a legal or theater background. It seems likely that the Hydro Archon's Domaine is Justice, with a focus on oratory skills and heuristic arguments. A larger sample group is necessary to draw further conclusions.”

“I think we should listen to Albedo. As much respect as I have for what Fortuna has done for us, I think she may be compromised,” Hannah said. “At the very least, we need to monitor her use of psychedelics and other drugs.”

“Those are to help me focus my inner eye! Not for pleasure!” Fortuna argued.

“Fortuna…you've just undergone a deep trauma. I think you need to be put on medical leave,” her mother said firmly.

“I don't need rest! I need to be in the field, finding the Hydro Archon!” Fortuna protested.

“We do need to find her. We could have another Tsaritsa on our hands,” President Rebecca stated. “But I agree, Doctor. Fortuna should be placed on leave. At least until she fully heals.”

“Trauma from the loss of her Shard should be studied. It is likely she will need long-term care for permanent psychological damage,” Honey said.

“No! I'm fine! I see better than I ever did with Eighty!”

“You're upset, Fortuna. You need rest. Go back to bed, we’ll take things from here.” Wyatt's tone was kind, but his words were dead.

Please, God of Waters. I need my Vision back. Won't you acknowledge me? 

I am sorry, dear child. Not yet. Strive for Justice, and what you have seen will come true. But first, you must glimpse the horror to come and determine what your Justice is.

Fortuna blinked her sightless eyes and stretched out her hand. She had heard Her, heard the voice of the Hydro Archon! 

But no Vision appeared for her. 

“Come, Fortuna. You need to recover,” Doctor Mother said, a gentle arm on Fortuna's shoulder. 

“No! I am still your eyes! You need me!” 

Her mother would try to put her back in the wheelchair. Like David had been. Now, at last, Fortuna understood his fear.

“Door me!’ She commanded, then stumbled forward.

But no portal appeared. 

“I'm afraid Doormaker has been informed that your authorization has been revoked. Come, Fortuna. You are not well.”

Slumping in defeat, Fortuna let them seat her and wheel her away. Behind her, she heard them asking the same questions of Albedo they used to ask her.

Couldn’t they see? They were being led astray by a false prophet. But she couldn’t just tell them that. They would not listen. She had to find a way. That meant finding her Justice. But what was her Justice?

The better question would have been Who.

Author's Note: 

Charlotte has read far too much ‘Tintin’ and ‘Spirou and Fantasio’. Unfortunately, her current circumstances are going to do nothing to convince her she isn't the main character in her very own Intrepid Reporter story. Her Vision is just sort of reinforcing that kind of ambition.

Also, I apologize to everyone who was convinced Furina got the first Vision. Focalors is too smart to leave a trail that obvious.