Imposter Syndrome

Suisse

This time, a single word—"Cosima"—

And she was transported far, far from Constanta Castle's gauzy room, to a verdant hillside with a chic restaurant, linen-covered tables positioned here and there just outside a large, multipaneled glass window. Said hillside, she noticed, led to an expansive, breathtaking backdrop of—was it—

The Alps?

Snow-covered mountains—trees—too many to count—

Focus! She remonstrated herself, turning once more to the task at hand, noticing a familiar auburn-haired figure seated just next to a pair—was it father-daughter? Perhaps.

Moving closer, she found herself a seat feet away, though indoors; to avoid immediate detection, she chose a place obscured by a series of high-walled plants, their oval leaves large and surprisingly enough, quite aromatic...

"I wanted to take her here," the seventy-something heavyset gentleman said, between curls of his mustache, his silk shirt a pale damask. "I miss her so much—" he choked down a sob as he looked down, staring a little too intently at the glass-carved peppercorn shaker, as the young woman patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"I know..." she murmured, her white sweater flowing in the springtime breeze. "I know...I miss her too."

Neither noticed the petite woman slide an envelope toward their feet.

One week later, a very sleep-deprived Veronica found herself facing a bevy of peculiar news reports—

"FRENCH CHEF CLOTILDE: MENU MAGICIAN IN THE MAKING!"

"ZACK IS BACK: IT GENIUS UNFURLS LATEST WORK"

"KARLO MAIN SHAREHOLDER OF AVVENTURA: 'BIG PLANS' IN STORE!"

"ELDERLY WOMAN'S FAMILY INHERITS COUNTRY MANSION"

A shriek, and a coffee mug flung across the room later, she realized with horror that her actions through others, had no effect. Nothing stemmed the flow of power to the ones who beheld it. Nothing. And what was even worse, the tide had clearly turned in their favor—meaning—

Someone—or someone(s)—were onto her.

What changed, to have such incidents be brought to light? What loyalties had turned?

Everyone is loyal to me.

But a disquieting voice entered her consciousness. Are they, though?

Ruminating further, once she had cleared away the ceramic shards and properly disposed of them, she began to question her calling, though she would not necessarily call it that. Questioning her prowess, more like. I've lost my touch. Things aren't—aren't what they used to be.

She began to pace about the room, speculating, methodically plotting her next move—where to, from here?

I could flee. Hole up somewhere in the tropics. But then—I'd get bored. And run out of resources.

Or stay here, prey-in-waiting, for the authorities to catch up with me, to seize all my property, to—

She swallowed hard. But—there was, of course, a counterintuitive third option—

I could turn myself in—get a lighter sentence—get the best legal representation possible—and get out—early? Best case scenario, cooperate and be perceived as such a 'good citizen' that nobody would think I was the perpetrator?

A Cheshire grin spread across her crimson lips. Bringing out her cell phone, she began to type.

I'd like for us to meet. An exit interview.

And—sent.

Miles upon miles away, Sofie's phone rang with a distinctive ping as she checked the text, her smile fading into a frown that grew deeper by the second.

"Sofie? Sofie! Earth to Sofie?" Carolina waved her hand impatiently in front of Sofie's face. Trying to teach Sofie spatials—or instantaneous empathic travel—was proving difficult, if not impossible.

Imagination. Visualization. Perseverance—

Putting her phone down, Sofie finally responded. "It's her—"

"Her, as in—?"

Sofie nodded. Veronica. "She wants..." she hesitated, knowing the words sounded just as odd spoken aloud, "an exit interview."

"Are you sure that's not just cover for an offing?" Carolina made a horizontal motion across her neck.

"Honestly...I don't know. But considering the timing—I need to do this—"

Carolina gaped. "No, you don't."

"Look, it has to be me. I can feel it. Besides, if I don't use this chance, and she keeps exploiting others—others weaker than me, less strong than me—"

"You wouldn't be able to live with yourself?"

Sofie exhaled. "Something like that."

Less than an hour later, they found themselves in another room of Constanta Castle—her, Carolina, Natalia, and Helena.

"This is crazy, you realize that, right?" Now, it was Natalia that needed convincing. "The woman's destroyed careers and might be implicated in homicide? And you're entrusting...Sofie?" Sofie's—tiny! And Veronica—more experienced, more powerful, older, and—

Sofie's cheeks flushed, though she did not speak. Why did everyone seem to underestimate her? It wasn't a question of brawn, after all—

"I trust her." The trio turned to Helena. And nobody was about to contradict the leader of the Goddess League.

And so it would be—though Sofie suddenly remembered a certain someone that would possibly be of use as well. "Can we loop in...?" Helena nodded, as Sofie felt assuaged, bit by bit, that she wasn't quite as alone and helpless as she once thought she was.