Origins (Book 4 of Alfireán age)

The Princess's Choice

Zaphaniea stepped forward and started to impatiently tap at the screen again while Drake and the others edged away from the wall of cylinders.

"Author Denwake," the AI suddenly announced, with a hint of reproach, "you have been locked out of the system and database by the mutual agreement of five other members of Origin. You will not be allowed access again until a confirmed host of one of the five members grants you permission. If you continue to try to access me, I will be forced to enact security protocols."

Zaphaniea pulled back and spat. "Oh great, that sounds peachy. What now?"

Valarinnia peeked over her shoulder, her pixie face and purple eyes scrunched in thought. "If I had to guess," she said, "I'd say it was the five dead men we found with the cylinders by the upper exit that locked him out."

"Perfect, just perfect," Zaphaniea grumbled as she threw up her hands and plopped down on one of her spheres.

Olivia seized the opportunity to start healing her again. "At least it doesn't seem to be trying to kill us right now," she offered.

"Maybe not, but from the sounds of it, it did want to make Drake a host," Rex teased.

Drakovian glanced at the vice champion, then at the cylinders. The very thought of being a host for another entity, or whatever it was, sent shivers down his spine.

Alf's expression turned sour. "No way we're touching those," he said, glaring at the cylinders.

"Agreed," Drake muttered.

"Any suggestions on what to do next?" Valarinnia asked, tentatively reaching out towards the screen before drawing her hand back.

Zaphaniea shrugged, her nose wrinkled in distaste at her new pink skin. "Not a clue, and if I keep messing with it, who knows what it'll do."

"Hold still!" Olivia ordered, her voice strained as she gripped Zaphaniea's shoulders firmly and pushed them down. "You can't feel the pain because I've blocked your receptors. But if you keep fidgeting like that, you'll tear your new skin."

Zaphaniea huffed, rolling her eyes, and Olivia let out a weary sigh. The healer's hands glowed with a soft light as a patch of bubbling red skin on Zaphaniea's upper arm gradually vanished into the air. Little by little, the skin flowed back into place, seamlessly merging with her tricep without a trace of damage.

"So, there's no way for us to gain control of the factory?" Rinnia prodded.

"I don't know," Zaphaniea complained. "Why does everyone suddenly think I'm an expert on this stuff?"

"Because you saved our lives when I didn't even have an inkling of what to do," Drake explained, wishing he could help Olivia. However, it would still be several years before he would gain the energy to do so. Drake sighed. Sometimes, being stuck in a ten-year-old's body was most vexing indeed.

"Yeah, Author Denwake, we're counting on you to create a machine army and help save the kingdom," Rex chimed in, his impish smile stretching across his face.

Zaphaniea shot him a withering glare, but his grin only widened. Swish! The air whistled as one of Zaphaniea's spheres flew at his head. Rex jumped to the side, easily dodging it.

"Stop moving!" Olivia hissed, her voice strained. "Or I'll have to cast a paralyzing spell on you."

Zaphaniea pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. "Some gratitude that is. I save all your lives, nearly turning into crispy bacon in the process, and you want to paralyze me," she griped.

"The, uh... AI? It mentioned something about a confirmed host. How does it confirm a host?" Rinnia asked.

"I don't know!" Zaphaniea blurted, starting to throw up her arms yet again.