Imposter Syndrome

Natalia

She stared at the three snow-carved igloos before her, each with an arched doorframe, their shutters outstretched as if to beckon the women in.

"What're you waiting for?" Carolina asked, sensing her hesitance.

"Nothing—" but why she bothered to even reply, she did not know. Everyone was probably skilled at mind-reading in the Goddess League. Reading not just unsuspecting souls' insides, but those too of powerful empaths. Everyone but her. And delving into Carolina's brain didn't count—not to her, at least—as Carolina hadn't been on her guard at the time.

Far be it for her to be jealous of her rescuers—for rescuers they were, right? She shook her head, attempting to rid her innermost thoughts of envy as she followed Carolina in, several others following close behind.

Moments later, she found herself within a slant-roofed snow cave, a vaguely Nordic-appearing stovepipe bearing a welcoming crackle of flame, and directly in front of it, a large transparent ice block, perhaps to prevent the environs from melting outright. She noticed several snow mounds shaped into ergonomic chairs and sat upon the one closest to the fire.

Why am I here?

Why are...any of us...here?

A murmur of voices dissipated almost instantly, as Helena swept in. Removing her fur-lined hood, shaking her tresses, her mere appearance commanded respect. "Women," she called out, "welcome to our winter retreat."

And therein was her answer.

Moments later, she found herself paired up with a curly-haired brunette named Natalia. "What's your story?" she asked prior to the first exercise.

"There's not much to tell," came the reply. "Buon Natale—"

"Merry Christmas?" she found herself saying. "In...Italian?"

The woman nodded. "I was found by nuns outside a Venetian chapel. Or church. I could never get it straight. Someplace religious. On Christmas Day. Placed with a family, I used college to escape. Et cetera. Your story?"

Sofie hesitated, mentally parsing her words before responding. "I applied for a job, and someone found me. Used my abilities. Then, someone undercover referred me to Helena. So—" she shrugged. "Here I am—"

"Your first exercise—mental wards!" Helena's voice rang throughout the iced-over chamber, as Sofie gaped in astonishment. Mental wards? As in—stop people from reading your own thoughts?

"Let's do this—" she muttered, as the instructions were given and subsequently demonstrated in the following half hour, knowing this to be a particularly valuable skillset against Veronica. Listen. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

Empty your mind.

Free your mind.

This seemed to her, forty-five minutes in, a guided meditation of sorts—or yoga among friends—albeit in frigid sub-zero weather. But what did she know, never having attended either in her lifetime? She inhaled, then exhaled, sitting cross-legged, imagining her soul to be light, carefree, pristine...perfect.

Closing her eyes, she repeated Helena's spoken mantra.

Empty your mind.

Free your mind—

Then, with a flourish, Helena rose, making her rounds—checking people's form, Sofie guessed. "Now, create a mantra that helps guard your mind against undue influence. Concise, but enough room to improvise—easy to memorize—"

"Easier said than done," she muttered to herself, mentally searching through various key phrases and buzzwords. Control. Actions. Thoughts guarded. Future. Or not future—more—destiny. Yes. Destiny.

Control your thoughts, control actions.

Control actions, control your destiny.

She repeated those two lines over and over in her brain, willing herself to commit the phrase to memory.

"And now—we practice!" They were ushered into the next room moments afterward with their partners into another icy enclave, this time resembling a turn-of-the-century schoolhouse's insides, with a carved tree glowing an eerie neon green toward the front. "This side of the room," Helena gestured to Sofie's side, where women faced their partners standing just across, "begin by reading your partner's minds for a family member's name. While they, of course, use their mantras to block you out. This is not a physical game of cat-and-mouse. More, a strategic game of intellectual prowess—"

She closed her eyes, thinking of Natalia's infant form, left outside a Venetian building, winding her way around the architecture's hardened exterior—did she have sisters? Brothers? A cousin twice removed? But all she sensed was a clean marble slate, smooth as silk, firm as the finest alabaster—

That is, until she imagined her hand upon its wall. Nonna was the Italian word for grandmother, was it not? Perhaps she had a nonna. An elderly female relative, perhaps bearing a crinoline shawl, her wizened expression widening into a smile at the baby's first steps—

A woman emerged from within.

Not a nun, but a grandmother.

Fiorella.

Sofie opened her eyes, scanning to her left and right. Nobody seemed to have much difficulty applying their natural gifts, but a select one or two seemed to have difficulty penetrating their partner's mental barrier. Either they weren't fully-developed empaths, or their partner's sheer inner strength was in full view. Or both.

"Everybody switch!" Sofie mentally steeled herself, repeating her chosen mantra, sensing Natalia's psyche at her proverbial inward doorstep.

Control your thoughts, control actions.

Control actions, control your destiny.

She sighed. Here goes nothing.