Trixie's Arc

Chapter 4 of 11

The singing started drawing people by the second day. Trixie watched from the treehouse window as figures approached the glowing building wrapped around her tree, their faces tilted up toward the lattice of light that hummed her prophecy into the air. She needed to control what they saw. Her hands moved quickly, painting a barrier around the building with mushroom paint mixed with crushed crystal dust. The paint solidified into a cube of clear faceted walls, shimmering like a giant diamond. Anyone could still see the lattice singing inside, but now they'd have to touch the barrier to enter—and when they did, Trixie would be ready. She painted a second object, something wild and chaotic: a tumbling mass of geometric shapes and swirling orbs that sprouted legs and rolled itself to the barrier's edge. The thing looked like a toy box had exploded into consciousness. She'd designed it to fracture memories, to scramble what people saw into harmless confusion. The first person touched the crystal wall. Trixie held her breath as they passed through, saw the lattice, heard the prophecy sung in her voice. She activated the memory-scrambler, watching its orbs flash and spin. The person stumbled back through the barrier, blinking hard, then wandered away muttering about pretty lights and music. It worked. Trixie tested it on three more visitors—each one left remembering only vague beauty, nothing specific about towers or raised hands or the Prism-Breaker. But when she checked her sketchbook that night, new drawings had appeared on blank pages. Sketches she hadn't made: the faces of everyone who'd touched the barrier, their memories bleeding onto paper even as she'd stolen them away. The paint wasn't just changing what they remembered—it was feeding their experiences back to her, adding their terror and wonder to her own visions. She'd gained control over the witnesses, but lost another piece of the boundary between her mind and the magic. Trixie traced one of the involuntary sketches with a trembling finger, understanding the trade she'd made.