Once More To See You Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 1

He’d heard this speech a few times now; it was a familiar song and dance at this point. “Look, Isaac, it’s not that I don’t think you’re a good kid. You clearly are, you’re smart, got a good head on your shoulders, but that’s only gonna get you so far. It just feels like you’re barely present at all these days. You skip meetings, don’t check your email, you’re on your phone all the time. We’ve got people who have been here half as long, who make less money than you, and get twice the work done.” Reggie didn’t stop there; he had more to say, but Isaac never bothered responding. He had nothing to add, and few reasons to bother tuning in.

He knew where this was going, had seen it coming; honestly, he was surprised it had taken this long. Part of him knew this should bother him a lot. He didn’t have a job anymore, and he certainly didn’t have any leads on a new one. Plus, he was terrible at buckling down and actually job hunting. He’d procrastinate, he’d fritter away his savings ‘til there was nothing left and he wound up taking some other job he hated, only this time with worse benefits and pay.

Despite that, all he could react with was apathy. Isaac didn’t want this job. He didn’t want any job; he needed a job, but had no interest in actually doing one. The prospect of not going into work tomorrow or the day after sounded nice, it was just the other part that sucked. The needing money to not be out on the street part. Not that he could conceive of himself being in that position. His brain was just kind of telling him things would be fine. Not cause they would be, but because it couldn’t muster anything else.

Isaac didn’t have the drive for panic or anxiety, same as he hadn’t had the drive to actually bother doing his job well, and wouldn’t have the drive to look for one at a reasonable pace. Trying hard just meant falling flatter when things finally blew up in his face, so why bother? It would be the same outcome as if he’d skidded by on minimal effort until the good will he’d built up early on was spent. Plus, he’d probably find a new job eventually. And if he didn’t, well, Isaac couldn’t really imagine that future, so he didn’t try to.

At least they let him go early with a full day’s pay, plus his severance pay and compensation for the paid time off he’d accrued amounted to another full month’s worth of pay. So it wasn’t like he’d really need to worry about it any time soon. He could take a few days off, even a week, then ease his way into it again. It would be fine, and if it wasn’t, then, well, it wasn’t. He gathered his things, and left his workplace for the last time, depositing his company ID and keycard at the front desk, not really bothering to acknowledge the receptionist or doorman on his way out into the chill air.

He paused, standing in the open air of the city center, surrounded by the bustle of the final lunch rush of the day. Speaking of which, this would have been his lunch hour, and he hadn’t eaten yet. Isaac liked to take his lunch later in the workday, so when he came back he’d be more than halfway done with the day. Not that he worked particularly hard either way. Isaac considered popping into a lunch spot and buying a sandwich or kebab or rice bowl or whatever struck his fancy, then reminded himself that this was not the time for frivolous spending. He went ahead and got the stupid sandwich anyway. He was hungry after all, and food was one of the few things he took genuine pleasure in. Sleeping was another one, friends too, but Isaac didn’t have many of those anymore. Regardless, the sandwich was fine. It sated his hunger.

Already questioning the decision, he set off toward the train station, groaning as he checked the train schedule on his phone and realized he’d have to wait a full twenty minutes before the next train arrived -- something he could have avoided if he’d just not bothered getting that stupid sandwich.  He really didn't feel like staring down at his phone screen for the next twenty minutes, but it wasn’t as though he was just going to fuck around in some shop for the duration. That was the sort of thing which would sidetrack him and cause even more delays. Just as he was about to descend into the station, his phone came to life, a call from Bea, his ex. He really wanted to ignore it. His thumb hit the answer button.

“Yes?” That came out ruder than intended, but hey, who ever wants to hear from their ex? Unless it was an amicable breakup, which it sort of was. But more because Bea wanted to break up, and Isaac didn’t have it in him to argue. She didn’t seem to like how easily he’d let her go, though.

“Isaac, you’re on your break, right? Can we meet? I want to talk.” Bea sounded worried, a little anxious, maybe sad. And it wasn’t that Isaac didn’t care, he did care about Bea. But also, he didn’t have it in him to deal with her. He had his own issues to struggle to process and properly respond too. Having an uncomfortable talk with the ex-girlfriend who wanted and deserved someone who could actually commit and be emotionally available wasn’t high on his list of priorities -- which currently mostly included getting home and some kind of unspecified unwinding and pretending he didn’t live in a world that made him choose between either working a job he didn’t want or being utterly destitute.

“Not on break. Not on anything, I lost my job. They fired me.” Bea’s responding gasp suggested this was maybe something he should be a bit more bothered by, but that didn’t change anything.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Let me buy you a meal and we can talk this out, I know a few recruiters; even if they’re not hiring they can probably --”

“It’s fine, Bea. I mean, I saw this coming a mile away. Honestly, I’m surprised I lasted this long, I wasn’t exactly a good employee.” It was true, none of the things his now ex-boss had told him were exactly inaccurate, they just weren’t really things Isaac could fix about himself. He wanted to be more driven, to be more responsible and passionate, but he wasn’t. Which was maybe for the best; this way he didn’t wind up looking like an idiot when he got knocked down all the same. Isaac might have been fired, but he was taking it with the grace of someone who knew he’d fucked up. Better that than fly too close to the sun and go down in flames.

“Aren’t you literally the person who regularly rails against employers for firing anyone for pretty much any reason? Aren’t you the person who thinks literally nobody should need to worry about having their basic needs met?” She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make the reality of the situation any different.

“I am that person, and I still think those things. But I’m also not naive; the people who sign my paychecks don’t see it that way. In their world of profit I’m a liability, I don’t blame them, the problem is systemic.” Just as he was about to launch into a lecture, Bea cut him off.

“For fuck’s sake, do you care about anything?” Bea was angry, and that was his fault, he knew that. And that, at the very least, made Isaac feel shitty. Bea might be an ex, but she had perfectly valid reasons for dumping him; he just hadn’t been a very good boyfriend and now he was just proving that all over again by getting completely hung up on the wrong thing. “Isaac.” Her voice broke his train of thought.

“I mean, I don’t care about things that will actually earn me a living wage.” That was a joke, sort of. It was true after all, and his flat deadpan gave no hint of humor. Not that people couldn’t come to expect deadpan from him. Isaac always said he put the dead in deadpan, because he was dead inside. People didn’t seem to like that one.

“Ugh, look. Things with you clearly aren’t fine. So come on, we’re getting lunch and figuring all this out.” Her tone had softened a little, but did nothing to make Isaac actually want to go. Something told him “this” included their relationship, and Isaac wasn’t interested in re-hashing that. Or hashing out the details of all the shit with his job, not yet anyway. He was tired. The most appealing sounding option was to go home and stare at his computer screen for seven to ten hours then fall asleep.

“Ah, sorry. I have some plans; also my phone is about to die, so --”

“Isaac. You just got fired from your job. You don’t have plans, besides, I can literally see you right now.” He froze in place, trying to subtly scan the surrounding streets, before locking eyes with her across an intersection. She waved. He pretended not to see her.

“Uh, that must be someone else?” He offered weakly, then hung up the phone and descended into the train station, hoping against hope that conversation had taken as long as it felt like it had. It hadn’t. The train was still fifteen minutes away. He glanced behind him up the stairs, and saw Bea round the corner and begin descending the stairwell. With few options, and a brain that wasn’t exactly behaving rationally, he scurried off away from the platform to a different exit.  Just as Isaac began climbing the stairs, he heard Bea calling after him.

He picked up speed, taking the stairs two at a time, receiving many dirty looks from commuters and shoppers just trying to go about their day as he dashed and weaved through them. Reaching the open air, Isaac broke into a run; he couldn’t really explain why, he just wanted to get away. Away from Bea, away from the hard questions he was going to need to ask himself, away from nine to fives and private health insurance and cramped studio apartments for two grand a month. Without bothering to check the traffic lights or cross signal, Isaac bolted into the street, causing cars to come to screeching halts amidst a cacophony of blowing horns as he blew through their intersection on a green light. In the middle of a long stride, Isaac tripped over his own feet and nearly face planted. He just barely managed to recover in time to hear a loud, deep, blaring horn. Like an idiot, he glanced in the direction of the noise, as though he somehow couldn’t guess what was making it, and froze in fear.

A semi-truck was barreling toward him, too large, and with too much momentum to stop. What a semi was doing driving around this close to the city center, and how it had managed to gain that much speed were questions better saved for a later date. Instead, all Isaac seemed able to do was gape. He could see the driver clearly through the windshield, she was waving wildly at Isaac to get the fuck out of the way. And, as though he just needed a reminder of what to do, his brain kicked into gear, and he awkwardly threw himself across to the other side, avoiding certain death by a hair, then stumbled off into an alley as his entire body shook.

Taking refuge behind a dumpster, Isaac sat heavily onto a wine-crate, and realized he was crying. Why did this all have to be so hard? He didn’t want to talk to Bea. Not about their relationship; she deserved someone who wasn’t a complete doormat, someone not constantly paralyzed by the threat of failure. Besides, he wasn’t even that good-looking; his body was weird and gangly and hairy in the wrong places. He’d never understood how anyone could be interested in anything he had to offer. He certainly wanted nothing to do with it, but he was playing the hand he was dealt. Unfortunately the game was rigged. He was fucked. Sure, yeah, he could burn away all his money trying to find a different job he hated, but then what? He’d just wind up fired again. How many times before people realized he wasn’t even worth hiring? Why couldn’t he just be allowed to live a dignified life without giving away the better part of his years to fill someone else’s pockets?

He just wanted to go home, but no, not even home was enough. Home would be safe today, and tomorrow, and next month. But Isaac still had rent, had bills. Home didn’t protect him from the responsibilities he neither wanted nor asked for. It wasn’t like he’d had any choice in the matter of being born, and if he had he certainly wouldn’t have chosen to be, well, what he was. He’d be different somehow, he wasn’t sure how. But at the very least, he’d have made sure he wasn’t some weird-looking dude with a bad brain that didn't let him care about anything until he was crouched behind a dumpster on a wine-crate in an alleyway hiding from not only his ex-girlfriend, but the entire world.

Isaac’s phone started vibrating in his pocket again; that would certainly be Bea. Just as he fished it out, held it in front of the face, and was in the midst of reaching for the ‘reject call’ button, the air around him seemed to stretch and bend and compress and do a whole bunch of other things he couldn’t explain -- he could have sworn it felt like the space he was occupying was getting turned inside out, but he couldn’t even conceive of what that actually meant -- there was a tearing sound, then something akin to a popping noise, and suddenly his phone had no signal; also, he wasn’t in the alleyway anymore. He wasn’t even outside. Bewildered, he glanced up.

Right away, it was clear that Isaac now found himself in someone’s home. There was a kitchen, a bed, some tables and other generic furniture. All that seemed normal, but the room also looked like something off a fantasy movie set, with all kinds of old books and weird dried plants lining the shelves and hanging from the ceiling. There were symbols drawn all over the floor and walls, along with all manner of contraptions that just screamed ‘This is what people think of when they think of fantasy magic users,’ crystal balls and beakers and telescopes, that sort of thing.

Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by glowing runes etched into the wooden floor, was a young woman. She was tall-ish, for a woman anyway, about Isaac’s height, so around 5’9”. Her hair was short and black, but voluminous and dense, packed with loose, springy curls which reached about half way down her neck, it was almost akin to a curly-haired mullet, though a bit too overgrown in the front and sides to count.  Her bangs were just a little too long; they partially covered her eyes -- which were an unnaturally deep brownish-green shade. It had the effect of giving her a slightly wild, unkempt look, but that seemed fit well with the rest of her.

Her skin was an unfamiliar tone, almost grey and ashen colored, with just enough of a medium brown peeking through to keep her from looking downright otherworldly. Her arms, which were left bare by the tight black vest-like button up she wore, were covered in intricate runic-looking tattoos inked in an assortment of deep blues, purples, reds, blacks, and even ethereal, winding strands of silver. Taken as a whole, her getup was reminiscent of a sort of bohemian goth-witch style given an old-world makeover.

She was adorned all manner of talismans, earrings and even a septum ring, all denoting different phases of the moon or animals, such as her crow-skull necklace and light, silvery circlet depicting a set of antlers which began just above her eyebrows -- and, of course, originated from a crescent moon that made up the circlet’s centerpiece in the middle of her forehead -- then branched off toward her temples. Her legs were covered by an odd, baggy garment colored a deep shade of burgundy that seemed to be a compromise between the sort of long, flowing robe one might expect of a fantasy witch, and a pair of loose fitting pants. Her plump lips were painted with a dark green, almost black lipstick that shone in the dim light. Beyond that, she also happened to be staring directly at Isaac, and appeared to be on the verge of tears.

Chapter 2

Confused was, among many other words used to describe even worse emotions, an understatement. Staring at the figure before her, a great variety of feelings pounded at Sybil’s mind. To put it lightly, she was displeased, and grasping for answers that simply weren’t there. It just didn’t make any sense. Sybil was sure she’d done everything right, was sure the spell had gone off without a hitch. But now, slumped atop a wooden crate while holding an odd device, was not the woman of her dreams but, well, some man. And, that wasn’t to say there seemed to be anything inherently wrong with said man. He didn’t appear malicious or otherwise dangerous, in fact, if anything he looked about as bewildered and despondent as she felt, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was not her.

For years, Sybil had dreamt of her. And for years she’d thought the dreams were just that. And once she had realized their true significance Sybil had worked tirelessly for months to build that connection, to locate where her lover was, to find the reagents. And it just made no sense. It wasn’t fair. She hated him. He was there and she wasn’t and Sybil wanted to just collapse into bed, cast a sleep spell on herself and never wake up. Perhaps she could pay someone to sustain her in a permanent coma and Sybil could dream the rest of her life away. What other choice did she have?

It felt as though the entire time Sybil had been wrong, blinded by hopefulness. What if they really were just dreams? How else could she explain what she saw before her? When she cast the spell the connection had been so strong, she’d felt it as she cast the spell, felt her growing closer and clearer and stronger in Sybil’s mind. She was more certain than ever in that moment that she’d done it. And yet, the fruits of her labor lay bare before her: failure. How could she have been so naive? What other delusions had she convinced herself of over the years? Did it even matter?

“Uh -- Excuse me?” So immersed in her own thoughts was Sybil, that she’d nearly forgotten the embodiment of her disappointment was a real, breathing person, whose situation she was now responsible for. For a moment, she bristled at his interruption, how dare he? How dare he be here? How dare he not be the woman Sybil was in love with? Before her eyes, his expression melted into fear, and Sybil couldn’t help but hang her head in shame. Perhaps she’d ruined two lives today. She couldn’t hate him, not really.

“It wasn’t supposed to be you.” Something about saying it out loud broke Sybil a little, her body shook in time with her voice as she suddenly found herself incapable of looking anywhere but the floor.

“Well, I’m sorry it is me then?” The words tumbled awkwardly from his lips, each one sounding less certain than the last. “What? -- Where? I don’t understand.” Sybil watched him from the corner of her eyes as he slumped forward, holding his head in his hands, trembling and panting audibly, his whole body seeming to shake as it rose and fell with his heavy breaths. Finally, he glanced up one more. “Am I dead? That truck, I didn’t get out of the way did I?” His tone was odd. Still laced with confusion, pain, even fear, but a degree of acceptance. Like he’d latched on to that explanation in the hopes of finding some sense.

“Not dead, no. You’re just somewhere else, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” It took effort, but Sybil was able to raise her gaze to the man before her, though, he still seemed intent on hiding away in his hands.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, all he managed to eke out was, “I see.”

“You sound almost disappointed.” Part of Sybil wanted to cross the room and offer some sort of comfort, but she was never good at that sort of thing. That was who she was in the dreams, who she was with her, but more and more Sybil was beginning to suspect none of it could truly be real.

“Not disappointed, but well. I dunno. If I were dead that would mean this was the afterlife and, well. This doesn’t seem like an awful place. I guess I thought maybe I wound up somewhere good. That I wouldn’t have to go back.” He grimaced, looking up at her, then around the room again. “You’re, well, you’re not going to hurt me though, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Good. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all then. I, uh. I’m Isaac, by the way.” He seemed to relax a little, which, at the very least, was a relief to Sybil. If nothing else Isaac didn’t seem in the midst of a breakdown anymore. Something about that made Sybil feel a little better too. She’d failed, yes, but maybe she could at least help someone in the process. She hadn’t done much of that, as of late.

“You said you don’t want to go back. Or rather, you at least implied it. You mean the place I summoned you from, right?” Sybil asked.

“I’m sorry, summoned? Like, with magic?” For a moment, his contemplative, troubled expression broke into one of wonder. And Sybil realized then, that she actually didn’t mind seeing that smile. It reminded her of someone, someone important, but she couldn’t say who. The feelings were distant, blurry. Perhaps someone from her childhood. Either way, Sybil felt an unexpected fondness for her mystery guest. It didn’t remedy her pain, but for a moment she was able to focus on other things. Not that his response didn’t perplex her.

“Yes, magic. Is that uncommon in your world? Clearly you know of it, but, well, I’ve never seen anyone react in such a way to the mere mention of it.” Sybil allowed herself a moment of curiosity, afterall, what was magic if not the sciences stretched beyond their physical limits? It’s purpose was, to many, a tool for discovery. And, while she had lately been zeroed in on her goal, new knowledge always proved useful in some way or another. It just so happened that what Isaac said next would prove very useful indeed.

“On earth? No, no. We don’t have magic, at least, I don’t think we do. We tell stories about it, but we don’t actually have it, I think. If we do have it it’s a very well kept secret.” It may have been considered a little rude, but, Sybil couldn’t help herself. She’d barely heard a thing Isaac said. Critically, she’d heard exactly one thing. One word, the only word that was important in the whole sentence to her. The word that hijacked her brain and sent it deep into spiraling thoughts. Earth. She’d heard it before, that word. At first, she wasn’t certain where, but it didn’t take long for hazy memories to reach out and grasp one another. Yes, she’d heard that word indeed. From someone very important to her. The most important person to her.

“That’s where she’s from!” Sybil shouted. For the first time since Isaac had appeared in the middle of her living room, Sybil felt good. She felt hope, like maybe, just maybe she actually wasn’t crazy. She hadn’t lied to herself. Her dreams had told her of someplace else, someplace real that she could otherwise never know. And suddenly, a deluge of other memories were released. Talk of exotic places her lover had been to, of the strange technologies and new knowledge. And Sybil had to know. Isaac was still several steps behind her, however.

“Who, exactly is she?” Sybil could see the ink flowing in Isaac’s mind as he started to grasp the situation. “You said it wasn’t supposed to be me. That’s who she is, isn’t it? It was supposed to be her?” At the very least, Isaac seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.

“Yes.” The melancholy had returned to Sybil’s tone, but she was not longer without hope. “I wish I could tell you her name, but somehow, despite everything I know of her, that one detail eludes me. What I do know though, is that she’s the love of my life. I’ve seen her in visions. And, well, she’s from Earth. But there’s still so much I don’t know about her, I think that’s why I failed.” Her face fell as she finished.

“I see, well. I don’t really know anything about magic, but I’m here in this world now, maybe we could help one another out? I mean, I’ll need a place to sleep and I’ll need food and in exchange maybe somehow I could use my knowledge of Ear--”

“Are cars real?” Sybil blurted out, suddenly there was excitement. She’d realized something, that maybe, just maybe all hope of finding her wasn’t lost.

“What?”

“Cars. I think she said that word. Said it was kind of like a carriage but it drove itself without magic. Also computers! That one she had a harder time with, but she said they were a place to store and access information.” Sybil could hardly contain herself, the more she thought of it, the more she realized this might actually be her in. Because she had felt the connection when she cast the summoning spell. It was real, more real than anything, that wasn’t a hallucination, she’d even found the right place. Sybil must have only been just barely off, whatever that actually meant. There was some crucial bit Sybil was missing, but  maybe Isaac could finally provide that last little bit of context about his home to do it right and find her.

“Uh -- yeah? Those are all things. I can tell you more too. So, do you actually want my help?” The hope in Isaac’s voice was infectious, and a little impossible to dismiss. Even if Sybil didn’t have a use for him she probably couldn’t have said no. It was kind of her fault he was stuck in her world now, afterall.

“I think we can work something out. You can stay here for now. Food won’t be a problem, and we’ll try to figure out what your future is going to look like, assuming you don’t change your mind about being sent back.” Sybil couldn't help but notice the relief and gratitude in Isaac’s eyes. As much as she still wanted to resent him for not being her, it was hard.

“I don’t think I will,” he interjected.

“Well, regardless, in return for staying here, you’re going to help me prep the summoning spell again. Which means letting me grill you on your homeworld so that I can be more accurate this time, as well as helping me get casting reagents. While we’re at it we’ll grab the reagents to send you home just in case, or, if it comes to it, to send her home.” It hadn’t dawned on Sybil ‘til just then, but with the way her first attempt had gone, she realized it would be a real possibility that she might succeed, might summon the woman she loved, only for her to reject the life Sybil was offering. She didn’t know what she’d do if that time came, but Sybil would send her home, she wasn’t a monster. After that, Sybil didn’t want to think about after that. Those weren’t productive thoughts to dwell on.

“That actually sounds pretty nice. Better than my old job anyway. Or not having one at all. I mean, you’re not just gonna toss me out if I do poorly, right?” He grew a little meek at the end, and, as much as Sybil wanted to tell Isaac that she expected him to prove useful, she also couldn’t deny her own role in all this.

“Since I’m responsible for your being here, I won’t turn you loose into the world with nothing. But, the more you’re willing to help me find her, the more I’ll provide in return. And when we succeed then, well, I guess I could grant you a wish. Assuming you prove useful, that is. I’m no miracle worker, but there are still a lot of things I can do.” If Sybil was being honest with herself, she hadn’t the faintest idea what someone from another world would actually want, but she figured that was incentive enough. She was right. Isaac seemed more than ecstatic.

“That’s more than I would have asked for. I’m in. So, what are we doing first?” He stood from his spot, for the first time since he appeared in her home, and began to approach her. Sybil took a step back, despite everything Isaac had done to endear himself to Sybil, she still couldn’t help but hold his very existence against him, just a little. It was what he represented. Days, weeks, months, maybe even years more of loneliness. It wasn’t his fault, but she still couldn’t look at him and not see an embodiment of her own inadequacy. He seemed to notice her reproach, and halted.

“Our next step, Isaac is to go out into the wide world. We have a long list of reagents to find, and there’s no reason to simply sit around doing nothing while you tell me about your home world. I have every intention of getting this done as soon as possible, of finding her as soon as possible.” There was a certain coldness which had crept its way back Sybil’s voice, she had no intent of being unkind to him, but overcoming any and all resentment would be a long road. One she may not have time to traverse. “In the meantime, well. I expect you to carry your weight out there and, I mean no ill will, but you don’t look particularly suited to handle the dangers we might encounter on the way.”

“Dangers? I mean, I guess this is a fantasy world so there would be that sort of thing ,wouldn’t there? but, well I’m not much of a fighter.” Sybil had hardly heard Isaac, and barely registered the nervous fear in his tone. She was already working on a solution. Even if he wasn’t her, then at the very least Sybil would find each and every way to make Isaac a vehicle toward attaining her. Perhaps this was a necessary step. Taking long, purposeful strides across her home, Sybil reached an old display case full of baubles and trinkets. Thoughtfully, she reached in, and plucked one out: a mundane looking necklace, affixed with a moth effigy, representing change.

Sybil turned to face Isaac, took a deep breath to quash her own unjustified negative feelings toward the man, and approached him. As though making a peace offering for some slight he wasn’t even aware of, Sybil thrust the necklace forward, dangling it from her thumb and forefinger. “Take it, this will help.” She said, almost gruffly. It was difficult, standing this close to him. It was impossible for Sybil to look and Isaac and not be reminded of her. He was, after all, taking her place, at least for the time being. Not only that, but they were from the same world, and there was something about him that told Sybil that he was connected to her, somehow. She had plucked him from the fabric of reality instead of her, afterall, there had to be a reason, especially considering how certain Sybil was that the spell had worked in the moment.

“What exactly is this?” He asked, gingerly taking it from her, and reflexively donning it with barely a second glance. He almost seemed excited to put it on. Which, to be fair, it was quite the impressive artifact, but there was no way for Isaac to know that.

“It will help you. Make you stronger, I’m unsure how, I’ve heard it can work in many ways. Either way, just think of activating it, it will show you.” Sybil was met only with a blank stare, part of her wanted to yell. Did he not understand just how much of an inconvenience he was?  Did he not realize what incalculable effort Sybil had to go through to not just simply hate him for everything he stood for, for everything he wasn’t?

“I don’t know any magic, I don’t know how to activate it.” He gave a sheepish shrug, and an awkward grin.

“You just, do it. This is meant to be used by non-magic users. Just activate it.” She was struggling to hold back the frustration now.

“But, how? I don’t --”

“Just think, okay? This isn’t hard. What in the void do I need to say to get you to just fucking do it?” She snapped. Isaac’s face fell. There was a long silence. “I’m sorry,” Sybil choked. “It’s been a rough few months and, well. I thought I finally had her. But, I still failed.” The tears were back, but to her surprise, instead of leaving like everyone else had at the first sign of trouble, Isaac was just nodding in quiet understanding.

“I’ve had my own share of failures recently. And, well. I maybe could have been better to some of the people close to me in the midst of those failures.” He didn’t say anything more, but something in his voice suggested that was meant as forgiveness, Sybil smiled.

“Then, maybe we can fail our way toward something akin to success.” After a few moments, Isaac nodded quietly, flashing a weak smile of his own. “Will you just try for me? I know it’s kind of vague, but just, imagine it working.”

“Okay.” Isaac closed his eyes, and took a few long, slow breaths. And as he did so, a glow began to emit from the effigy, which built into a blinding flash. When her vision cleared, Sybil saw someone very different before her.