She remembered the happy days with a woman named Monica. In her past life, that was what she would have cherished, and she would not have had to think about it for a second.
Now she wasn't sure what mattered most to her. Gold. A cure. Honour. Her own life.
Her resolve hardened, and she fixed on the thing that was truly important to her right now.
She put her hand on the device.
It erupted in a flash of brilliant purple light. A massive column of energy shot up out of the magic circle and swallowed the pillar, and Sophia stood in it with a stern and determined expression while a vibrant orb of pure purple materialised in the device's mirror.
From their seats, two of the Hermans watched, and a voice explained the process by which memory is turned into evidence.
Days earlier, the silver-haired man had told her he intended to test her strategy.
Charone's power revealed recent experience most clearly, he said. That meant her own secrets were the thing most at risk here.
Sophia knew all the what-ifs in her plan; she had counted them herself. She had asked herself whether it was worth risking punishment at the hands of a corrupt priest.
"I've already thought about the risks," she said.
The odds were stacked against her. She had no choice but to act anyway.
An ambush, then. That was the best tactic — she had learned that from a friend a long time ago.
The men looked at her, and observed that she was a strange combination of cowardice and confidence.
She was not certain of her own motives, and she explained her reasoning as well as she could, and then she stopped explaining.
"It's something I'm able to do." Her fist closed. "I want to do it."
Her father joked that they could always run for it if things went wrong, and Hercio said absolutely not.
Sophia made herself a silent promise: she would not lose her father a second time.
"I'll believe in you," Theodore said warmly. "And I'll help you."
"Even if it causes problems for the Herman family?"
"The head of the family will handle any problems."
Hercio went very still as he realised, with horror, precisely who the head of the family was.
Ian turned to his father, shocked, and Sophia had to stifle a laugh.
Theodore only smiled at her. "I'll protect you. Whatever happens."
Her eyes filled, and she accepted the promise happily.
Later, with her hair newly done and her nerves in order, she got ready. Her father watched the orb begin to fill and told her to believe in him, and to find her courage.
The dark-haired priest stared up at the pillar of light, utterly confused.
In the audience, two men murmured to one another, wondering what was being shown.
The orb cleared, and a face appeared in it: a girl with short hair.
"My name is Carla," the girl said. "I'm a commoner. I was locked up in High Priest Charone's villa."
The high priest's mouth opened. Nothing came out of it.
"I escaped," said the girl in the orb, and the whole hall heard her say it.
There's no way, Charone thought, panicking behind his face. There's no way this is happening.
Among the purple roses of the projection, Sophia lifted her chin.
"Let the game begin, Mr. High Priest."
In a dark hall, somewhere, there were sounds of pained gasping.
Two small children huddled together in a cell, crying for their mother, and a guard told them callously to be grateful they were fed at all.
They went on sobbing. Two men in religious robes discussed it and suggested starving them, since that usually stopped the noise; they only needed to be kept breathing, after all.
The high priest arrived, annoyed by the racket.
"Prepare to send them away," he ordered. Then, with a cruel smile: "Move. At once."
A girl shook the bars of her cell, defiant.
"What do you take us for? Kidnapping commoners is a crime—"
He sneered at her — at the very idea that she believed herself valuable, that she believed herself precious. He leaned closer to the bars.
"What do you think I take you for?"
He smiled at her, sickeningly sweet.
"You're all trash."
He told her, watching her face come apart, that she was useful now, and that soon she would be proud to be needed by someone important. Privately he thought of them as worthless beggars who deserved to be ignored.
Then he grinned, and shattered what she had left.
"If anyone truly loved you, someone would have come for you by now."
Bandaged in her bed, Carla came to the end of her story.
"He's a demon."
She was crying. She begged Sophia to save her friends — to stop him — before it was too late.
Sophia said nothing. Her expression only hardened, and she made herself a vow: that she would always take the hand of anyone who asked her for help.
Remembering it, she walked forward across the hall with grim determination.
The priest collapsed in terror.
Her eyes were glowing, and everything in her was one fierce resolution: those children were going to receive the love they deserved.
"Memories are subjective!" Charone said desperately. "Miss Sophia must be mistaken — a child's memory, distorted—"
"You're right," Sophia agreed, with a knowing smile. "Memories can be distorted."
She let that sit.
"So let's simply check Carla's memories instead. For the undeniable truth."
Carla looked up, fear and determination together in her face.
The priest shrieked, pleading with them to stop.
"Arrest him," said the grey-haired man sharply.
The guards took him by both arms, and he screamed all the way out that he was being framed.