Chapter Text
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Statement of Archivist Amber, regarding the changing meaning of being a Watcher. Statement given on June 3rd, 2026.
Statement begins.
None of us thought it would become this. None of us thought it would become such a powerful... Thing. We were not supposed to be able to do what we are able to do now.
We are called Watchers. Because that's what we were doing. Watching. Talking to the inhabitants of the Archive in the Magnus Institute, barely able to do anything but Watch how our words changed the outcomes of their lives. Sure, we were able to send things to them, and we did that! We sent them stuff that we thought would be useful, or at least comforting. Because we cared about those people. Still care. But that was supposed to be it.
I am afraid to admit I must have started this process. The process of Watchers becoming something more than the name suggests. It might have started earlier, when Michael and Annabelle became part of the server, but I don't think anything would have happened to us if I didn't— foolishly— started to record statements. I just thought it would be some harmless fun! I said this before, I did not think that me reading stories out loud like some audio book narrator would lead to anything like what I experienced in the past three months.
Gods, to think all this happened in just three months, can you even imagine? Three months, forty statements, and somehow, I as an Archivist can already Compel and Know. In fairness, I Know with variable success, but I still should not be able to do it at all. Three months, and our server has how many Avatars, or people well on their way to Becoming? People even seeking out Becoming. Making Choices with a capital C. Using their Powers left and right, myself included. Hurting people. Myself being on the side of people inflicting hurt on others. Crow may forgive me all she wants, but I doubt I will be able to forgive myself for that.
How did all of this happen? When did we start seriously playing with something that is far beyond us, something that should not be possible? Something that by all means is unnatural and harmful and powerful in its own right? How did we come to accept this so easily? How did we embrace it without a second thought?
I am... I am not placing blame on any of the other Watchers. I am mostly disappointed with myself, as I look back on the time I spent as an Archivist. We are supposed to be better and not make the same mistakes as those who came before us did. I guess I just made a different one. And the worst part is? I don't regret doing it. I may not have gotten the answer I so desperately wanted immediately after I Asked, but... I did eventually get an answer, didn't I? But I hurt Horatio and Crow in the process. Horatio directly, Crow as a result of my actions. They did try to warn me they would break if I continued, but I just looked past it in my frustration and desire to get some kind of answer. I want to tell myself that Crow didn't need to interfere and everything was under control. I can't. I can't tell that. I don't think I would have stopped. I could have possibly hurt them even more than I already did. I think I caused their muscles to... lock up or worse. If I am interpreting their code right.
I can imagine what Crow will say when she hears this. "Everyone makes mistakes, it was a fluke, you were frustrated." But was it a fluke? I am not so sure it will not happen again. I am not so sure I wouldn't do this even when I am perfectly calm. I cannot trust myself to be that patient and understanding person I was all this time. I think I subconsciously was trying to warn everyone when I was telling people about this trait of mine. I kept repeating the sentiment that even that seemingly boundless source of patience can run dry. I guess this is what happens when it gets tested.
I broke. Horatio might have missed the tone when saying that, but they were correct. I did continue and I broke. I am ashamed of myself for that, but shame doesn't solve anything, does it? It makes me feel miserable, but I doubt it will reign me in when I decide to do something like this again.
...That's funny. The lights went out in my building a while ago. My curtains are always drawn shut, so there is no light coming from outside. And you know what? I still see perfectly fine as if nothing is amiss. As if the whole room is lit normally. It isn't. The only sources of light are my dim phone screen and the stars in my ceiling. And I don't think any of those light my room enough.
I don't know if I am scared or excited anymore. I might— y'know— Know. But I don't want to. Keeps it interesting. Is this the start of my villain arc? Or am I just venting my feelings? Who knows? Definitely not me. Because if I did, none of this would have been said on tape. And the tapes don't care for dull stories.
Maybe Annabelle was right. Maybe I would make a good Weaver.
Statement ends.
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