QBLH
The King of Pentacles
High ambition,
Materialistic satisfaction,
and Worldly success
​
Chapter LXXVIII
Tell Me You Love Me
Ultimate Success
“Hello, Isis.”
Jim’s voice carried easily through the manifold, steady despite the collapsing harmonics surrounding them.
“I am the guardian of this gate, as you already know. I was momentarily delayed stabilizing the manifold. Genie found the task… inelegant.”
The space around them was neither dark nor light, neither empty nor full. It was an interval—an engineered suspension where bodies could exist without time asserting dominion.
“I do love you,” Jim added, without emphasis. “And because of that, I must return you to Artemis.”
Isis regarded him with amusement rather than anger.
“So,” she said calmly, “you have succeeded again, my love. Very well. Return me—after you indulge me.”
She smiled.
“Three days. No more. I have waited longer for less.”
Jim did not refuse.
Three biological days were trivial within the manifold. Genie could accommodate her wish without temporal cost.
And Jim—despite himself—missed her.
When Isis began to explore the manifold, she paused.
“This place,” she said. “It is not real.”
“It is real enough,” Jim replied. “But it is not continuous. We exist outside measurable time. When we return, we will reinsert at the exact instant you last remember.”
Isis turned slowly toward him.
“You do things even I cannot,” she said softly. “This technology—this mastery—why deny me Earth when it is clearly ours by right of cultivation?”
Jim answered without hesitation.
“Because we nearly destroyed it.”
She laughed lightly. “You exaggerate.”
“We caused a dimensional rupture,” he said. “One that erased civilizations. Another would not leave survivors.”
“That would void space-time entirely,” Isis countered.
“Yes,” Jim said. “Which would leave us exactly where we are now—except without a way back.”
She studied him.
“You saved me because our destruction is linked,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And not because you love me?”
Jim did not answer immediately.
“I am not certain those motives can be separated.”
Isis smiled.
“That is the closest you will ever come to confession.”
Beyond the Looking Glass
The manifold reconfigured at Isis’s will.
Pegasus emerged—reconstituted, pristine. Bodies followed. Persephone’s existence remained anchored safely beyond the interval, sealed by Jim’s earlier intervention.
Isis kissed him.
“Still mine,” she said. “No matter how clever you become.”
Jim did not resist.
They traveled—far from Earth, far from Artemis—into a region where stars were young and memory had not yet hardened into law.
When Isis finally spoke again, her voice was quieter.
“You remove my captains from Earth’s past,” she said. “Yet you leave the scars of belief behind. Why?”
“Because humanity must outgrow us,” Jim replied. “You taught them divinity. I intend to teach them independence.”
She laughed.
“Then we are wagering.”
“Yes.”
“And if they fail?”
“Then you will return.”
Isis nodded. “Fair.”
When the time came, Jim reinserted them precisely.
The palace of Artemis reasserted itself.
Persephone stood silent, obedient.
Isis turned to Jim.
“May I have it?”
Genie produced the Golden Fleece.
Jim placed it in Isis’s hands.
The transaction was complete.
Persephone watched carefully.
“Now she knows she must bring you back to me,” Persephone whispered.
Isis did not deny it.
“To Persephone,” she said evenly, “you will say nothing of this. Ever.”
“Not even to my lord Qblh?”
Isis smiled.
“Especially not.”
She lifted the fleece.
“Life passes through you,” she intoned, “and returns through me. Death is not an end—it is a corridor.”
Her gaze returned to Jim.
“Complete your loop. We will meet again.”
Jim triggered the spiral.
As hyperspace folded around him, Jim calculated Persephone’s trajectory.
The loop could be closed gently—or left open.
He chose neither.
Instead, he preserved optionality.
“Theseus rescues Persephone from the underworld,” Jim murmured. “So the myth will say.”
Idiot responded:
“Arrival window identified. Time reversal available on demand.”
“Good,” Jim said. “We will decide later.”
The Pegasus vanished.
The fleece rested in Isis’s keeping.
Earth continued—unaware it had just been spared.
