Name: Confessarium

  Classification: Ghost-Tech Interrogation Weapon

  Tier: Legendary

  Manufacturer: Unknown

  Status: Illegal in 17 supernatural jurisdictions (1 pending).

  A memory cracked as Solenne held tighter onto the Confessarium. A gorgeous ghost tech interrogation weapon—more relic than gun. But as time passed, it began building itself to blend in with society. It was a miracle she found it when she did ... it made certain situations easier to handle.

  Like when a being with three arms wouldn’t take his hand off of her throat while she snapped back into reality.

  The weapon took all her confessions spoken as she fired—not a traditional bullet but spectral energy that slips into the victim's chest. He couldn’t see it but felt it, sharp and hard like taking in too deep a breath on a hard winter night. He stumbled back, agitated, confused by what was going on. He just had her and was almost free, and yet here he was.

  The haunting began. The spirit inside the relic began invading his mind, digging through memories, regrets, truths, and lies. Their whispers grow louder and louder until the target—say, like this three-armed man in front of her—could no longer contain the truth chewing its way out of his throat. Each confession is a rasp from every part of this person's life—cheating, murders, unconfessed love, lies told to console him on his darkest days, things he did in his childhood that... Even as they struggled out, it felt like they were from someone else’s life.

  There was no survival with this. The cruelty of the weapon is that the confessions cannot and will not stop. Well, until their lungs fail, their heart gives out, or the spirits that forged the bullet consume them from the inside out.

  “They… they’ll come after me if they know I told." He stammered, the voice forced and hoarse as he fought with it. It didn’t just take information from the victims, but it made him experience everything all over again. A nightmare in real time, confession after confession tore itself from his memory.

  She didn’t argue with him as he fought, begging her to stop what she was doing. There was no earthly or hellish reason to explain to him what was going to happen once his body gave out.

  The memory that interrupted her interrogation and almost got her killed was almost as painful as this. But whatever this man was experiencing was beyond her memories. I waited until his body stopped moving and reached the relic toward the deceased as the spirits drifted their way back to the weapon. While they had the choice of what to do within the victims their handlers picked, they always had to come back whether they wanted to or not.

  On the relic, the halo around it dimmed, and faint whispers lingered, carrying residue that she could later replay or study. All that mattered was the truth that he had carried; now it was burned into the weapon itself. She turned to leave the building -- as she did not need his body, nor did it matter if someone stumbled upon it. She got what she needed from the situation.

  If he hadn’t attacked her, she could have possibly not even had to use it. But he took her moment of hesitation and used it against her.

  Fucking humans. She was able to conceal most of herself from August, but his emotional state still continuously poured out to her. He was thinking about Faye, and apparently, the connection to him was strong enough to draw back memory.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  She stepped into her car, clicking on music in hopes of burning the memory again. Maybe the louder the music, the memory would just remember that she blocked it. It wasn’t meant to be there.

  ***

  Her apartment smelled of cinnamon, the rolls she had promised Solenne she would make for her if she came over. With Faye’s employment, she quickly learned she had a sweet tooth that wasn’t just about enjoying torture.

  The front portion of the place was very lived in. From the hours Faye worked, it was understandably messy with old books and mugs at various points of the house. Solenne noted one on top of the fridge with a lipstick smear—it probably sat there and was abandoned. She wanted to ask how long it had been there, but Faye’s inability to track things could always trigger immense amounts of embarrassment and self-doubt. Those emotions on her face, and this invitation to her place, didn’t bode well for how Solenne wanted the night to be.

  Faye stepped out of the small nook of a kitchen with a mug of tea, fingers brushing up against Solenne's. “Here.”

  Solenne took the mug, enjoying the warmth from it and especially Faye’s touch, small and brief but long enough to feel on purpose. Solenne groaned at the invocation of the word "feeling" when describing a situation with a human.

  “I… appreciate it.” She murmured. She tried and failed to say thank you. It wasn’t in her nature to say that. Solenne went to apologize, but that was…also…not in her nature.

  They sat side by side on the small sofa facing an enormous television that nearly covered the windows it was situated in front of. She wondered if that was deliberate; it was an easy way to safeguard snooping from regular creepers and those involved in their work.

  Stop thinking about work-related crap. She reprimanded herself mentally.

  “You don’t, usually, look like this.” Faye said, her hand gently waving up and down to emphasize the human disguise she had on. Her tone, sweet and nonjudgmental, was slightly confused by it.

  Solenne let out a soft laugh.

  “I try not to draw attention in human areas. Too many eyes.” Solenne waved her hand in front of her human face. If anyone were paying heavily attention, they would see the third eye flicking near the nose of the disguise. She needed to find a proper mage, human or otherwise, who could give her a real human disguise. But she rarely had any reason to be near humans… until recently.

  “Understandable. I like having you here, even if you’re hiding under that.”

  For a moment, they just sat. The city noises outside are muffled by the thick curtains—but still noticeable enough to mentally distract from the hesitancy of the 'What the hell do we do now?' Moment this was building up to.

  “I’m glad I can be here like this with you.” Solenne said quietly. It was supposed to be a quicker response to what Faye had said earlier, but she had to build up to it. She felt relaxed here, almost like she could be herself. Whatever that was. Whatever this was.

  Faye smiled; she pressed gently against Solenne.

  “Me too. I like this.”

  A timer buzzed; Faye set her mug down and started running for the kitchen. For a second, Solenne panicked as Faye started rambling loudly as she raced to the kitchen. She clattered around, knocking something down as she went through the motions of getting the cinnamon rolls out of the stove.

  “Damnit—god fucking damn it.” She muttered. This time Solenne did get up to help investigate. As she reached the small kitchen, half the cinnamon rolls were on the floor and the other half on the counter.

  “I’m guessing no longer edible?” Solenne asked. She knew humans didn’t eat off the ground—well, unless no one was looking. And someone was looking, so there weren't going to be cinnamon roll snacks from the floor.

  “Just the ones on the floor. I wanted enough to snack on through the movie." Faye sighed.

  Solenne made the small gap between them, gently holding her arms reassuringly.

  “This is fine. Take a breath. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

  ***

  Fucking humans. She tried to shake the memory as she hit the gas.