“It is one of the great challenges of life to slay one’s own inner demons. The things we fear, the things which drive us into rage, the things which lead us to despair, they all prove remarkably resilient to the slings and arrows we can bring against them.

‘I will not be afraid of him’ we say, and yet even years later our knees still turn to jello when a voice is raised and our spirit shrinks as though the fear we overcame long ago can choose to rise from its grave whenever it pleases.

I have no secret weapons to fight such battles, except perhaps for one. It is possible, in some cases at least, that our demons are not what we need to fight.

The fear which steals away our strength? It is not our enemy. It is our guardian from a time when we were too weak to stand against the peril which inspires it. It cannot be slain, because there will always be things which we are too weak to stand against. In place of the sword then our only weapon may be an embrace.

Accept that we are weak, accept that there are things which hurt us, and that those things are sometimes ourselves. In acceptance, I have never found a balm against those woes, the fear remains, the anger burns, but beside them there is understanding. They are not the whole of the world, and not the part I must choose to listen to.

My demons do their work guarding me with the small tools they have, it is up to me to listen to what they have to say and choose what tools I will take up.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxel of the First Flame in an unsent letter to the Empress Eternal.

I thought I was alone in possessing what should have been incredibly forbidden knowledge about opening the sort of rifts Reaving Storms caused. Or if not alone that it at least wasn’t common knowledge. As it turned out I was correct about the “not common knowledge” part, but I’d failed to account for how weird my housemates were.

“The Great Houses,” Yarrin said. “They create unnatural storms all the time.”

“For the hunts,” Idrina said.

“And less savory purposes,” Mellina said.

I couldn’t see them but I knew none of them were wearing particularly pleased expressions.

“I thought, based on the how often they bang on about being the only ones who can protect the Empire from the storms, that they were supposed to be in charge of shutting down the Reaving Storms,” I said. “Isn’t that the whole point of the Soul Kindled Wards on the city?”

“That is why the wards exist,” Trina said. “And there are natural Reaving Storms which occur. Storms which are as dangerous as we were always told. Just not for the reason the Great Houses cite.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “No wait, I don’t want to.”

“What’s there to guess about?” Mellina asked. “They do it for power, and the natural storms offer that power to everyone, or at least everyone who can avoid getting killed.”

“Storms are where the materials to make and sustain their enchanted equipment comes from,” Yarrin said. 

“Also how troublesome enemies can be disposed of,” Mellina said.

“Or the offspring of enemies you bear a grudge against but are too cowardly to target directly,” Trina said.

“Who.” It was only technically a question. In actuality it was a promise, a contract which would finish off at least one of the Great Houses in the exact same manner Grammy had ended Dryfall. All it needed was a name affixed to it.

“If I tell you, you’re going to destroy yourself trying to get revenge for me, aren’t you?” Trina asked. 

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m going to destroy them trying to get revenge for me. Revenge won’t do you any good at all, right?”

“Neither will my sister losing her life,” Trina said.

“I’m not particularly easy to kill,” I said. The others had missed the ridiculous levels of damage I’d endured in the Clockwork Cosmos, but I suspect Trina had seen a good portion of it.

“The one’s responsible for the storm that killed me could manage it,” she said. “Also, if I could beg an indulgence, ripping them limb from limb might be satisfying in the moment, but it won’t stop the damage they’re doing.”

I grumbled. Trina was a better person than I was. I’d known that since she first took me in. Also a smarter one. My first instinct being to bite my problems was, I felt, not entirely unreasonable. Hers tended to be just a bit wiser though.

“From a purely personal standpoint too, if you kill them, they’ll only suffer for a brief while. Take apart their power and destroy their position though and they will suffer for the rest of their miserable little lives, which I would like to watch.”

Trina was smarter than me. I’d never mistaken that for being more merciful though. Which, I suppose, proved that she was a rightful decedent of Grammy’s bloodline. 

“That leaves room for us to help with the process,” Mellina said, reminding me that she bore a striking resemblance to Trina in terms of both intelligence and mercilessness.

I pictured seeing Mellina standing beside Trina and decided I did not like that image at all though.

“You can’t,” I said. “I know you are all in danger, but this can’t be your fight.”

“And why is that?” Idrina asked. There was danger in her tone, and probably no good answer I could give, so I went with the truth.

“I’m not supposed to be in this world,” I said, throwing my stupid reservations to the winds. What did it matter? They probably knew what I was already anyways. “This isn’t my home, so if I die here, it’s okay. The world won’t have lost anything it needed. That’s not true for any of you. You’re all supposed to be here. This is where you belong.”

“Is your sister standing in front of you?” Idrina asked.

It wasn’t the response I’d been expecting, and as I struggled to figure out why she wanted to know Idrina answered for me.

“Yeah, we’re about an arm’s length apart,” she said.

“Thank you,” Idrina replied and I heard heard her swing a hand through that space. “As I expected.”

Then she hit me right in the face.

I’m not talking a light slap either.

She just full on decked me.

“What the?” I said, knitting my shattered nose and jaw back together.

“Apparently you are of this world,” Idrina said with absolutely zero remorse in her voice.

Violence is really not a great language. There’s all kinds of problems with letting your fists do the talking for you, and it’s not at all acceptable to hit people to make a point. You can can cause serious injury and/or severe psychological trauma. If it had been anyone else I would have been having some words with her, but as I picked myself up I met her gaze and understood what she was saying.

It wasn’t okay that she’d hit me because I had less worth, or wasn’t a person, or any idiocy like that. I understood what she was saying because as much as it looked like she’d hurt me, we both knew that a hit like that was no more serious than tousling my hair given who and what I was. As for my mental state, again, she seemed to know my limits there. Emotional stuff, like with Trina, took me apart. Silly physical things though? Well, she’d already speared me through the heart and I didn’t feel any particular lasting trauma over that. A little bop on the nose? Maybe if she’d used one of her spears I’d have been mad, but we both knew she hadn’t intended to hurt me, just to provide some undeniable proof that I was wrong about the claims I was making. I wasn’t a native to the material realm, but it had seeped into me. I had become something other than I’d been by living the life I had. Something new, and this world was as much my home as anywhere was.

Trina looked like she got that too, though she could have just been shaking her head at what an idiot I was being.

“Uh, why can I see you all again?” I asked, catching what had changed right away.

“She disrupted the spell,” Yarrin said, a pained wince in his voice.

“No she didn’t,” I said. “Trina’s still here, I can see her just fine.”

“You…you can?” Yarrin asked.

“That’s not how it’s supposed to go,” Vena said.

“The spell is broken,” Hemaphora said. “At least, we think it is?”

“Kati, can you still hear me?” Trina said, and from their expressions I could tell everyone else heard that too.

“Uh, yeah, she hit me in the face, not the ears,” I said, as confused as the rest of them. The thing was though, we were confused about different things. I couldn’t tell why they thought the spell was broken when I could clearly still feel it wrapped around me.

“It’s her eyes,” Idrina said, stepping in close to look deep into them.

I blinked. My eyes felt fine. Enspelled still, but fine.

“Huh, yeah, that’s not what they looked like before,” Trina said. “Kati, did you eat the spell that was on you?”

“Did I what?”

“You didn’t want the spell to drop right?”

“Yeah. I don’t want you to go.” That seemed pretty simple to guess. Her point about me eating the spell left me picking at the idea though.

Which almost immediately showed me that she was right.

“Oh,” I said when I saw what I’d done. That probably wasn’t good?

“What happened?” Ilyan asked.

“She’s absorbed the spell entirely,” Yarrin said. “She can see both worlds at once now.”

“And is acting as an open conduit between them,” Idrina said, shifting into a more guarded stance.

“We’ll need to help her close the spell down,” Mellina said. “This place has too many ghosts for it to be safe to walk around like that.”

“Not yet!” I stepped back. Unnecessarily. They weren’t about to tackle me and rip the magic away or anything.

“Not yet,” Trina said. “But soon. It’s not safe for either of us to keep this channel open for too long.”

“Not safe why?” I asked, willing to kill and/or eat whatever I needed to in order to draw these fleeing moments out as long as possible.

“There are creatures on my side who look for openings into the material world, and I’d rather not encounter any of them. Certainly not in the numbers that would be drawn to a living rift between the worlds.”

I wanted to object that I could protect her, but Idrina had apparently slapped the stupid out of me for the moment. I had no idea what kind of trouble would find Trina if I held her here for too long. Conversely, now that I was able to study the spell that I’d absorbed more closely, I felt like I had a somewhat decent chance of replicating it on my own. And a really good chance if I had Vena and Hemaphora’s help.

“We should make this quick then,” I said. “I need to know who murdered you, and who’s behind turning people into Clockwork Souls.”

“We all do,” Mellina said. “Unless you still think we’re not a part of this.”

“I…” Okay, so Idrina hadn’t smacked all the stupid out of me. “I know why I need to do this.”

“Do you?” Trina asked.

“What do you mean?” I couldn’t begin to follow the point she was making.

“You’re thinking that everyone else in this room doesn’t need to be a part of this, because you’re the one who’s stirred up the hornet’s nest,” Trina said, stalking around to stand beside Idrina. “You think they can just run away and be safe somewhere. That the risks they take are so much greater than yours, and that they shouldn’t trust you since you’ve only just met. Does that about sum things up?”

It did. She really must have been watching me all these years to know me that well I decided. 

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“Why can’t you run away with them then?” Trina asked. “You know how much power and influence the Great Houses have. Any of of the people here can tell you about the kind of magics they possess which could easily end even you. Why can’t you all do the sensible thing and focus on surviving?”

I hadn’t actually asked myself that question.

And from the looks on everyone’s faces, I really needed to.

“There are plots and schemes and machinations around us all of the time. Many of them are dire and dreadful, but the truth is many of them are doomed to failure too. For all that people are terrible and filled with malice and greed, they are also, quite dependably, monumentally stupid.

It is possible to foil a dozen horrible plots before breakfast through with the following tried and true plan; do nothing and allow them to self-destruct, all on their own, under the weight of the plethora of staggeringly obvious things the perpetrators will have failed to account for.

Oh, certainly sometimes there are conspiracies which are well thought out. Amusingly at least half of those also self implode, generally due to the fact that if someone is selfish enough to work towards a wicked aim, they are more likely than not to be selfish and wicked enough to be uninterested in sharing the revenue from said conspiracy with any of their compatriots.

What of the remainder? The ones where neither incompetence, nor greed, can successfully undermine them alone? Well, the perpetrators of those plots are the what we like to refer to ‘the people in power’. Foiling their plots is somewhat more difficult, though also vastly more fulfilling.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxle of the First Flame, speaking to Duke Rudello Grayfall shortly before the latter’s arrest and conviction on charges of Sedition and High Treason.

When a dead girl says she has to tell you something so you can prevent other people from getting deaded too, it pays to listen to her. I didn’t have any practical experience to back that up, I was pretty certain it was a good rule to live by nonetheless.

So I shut up and let Trina talk.

“Something’s going to kill us?” Ilyan asked.

I didn’t jump out of my skin at that. I mean, I am capable of jumping out of my skin. I think. I’ve never tried it but the phrase always seemed like an interesting challenge.

Anyways.

I reacted calmly and rationally.

“Please don’t kill him,” Vena said.

“It would be such a terrible waste of blood,” Hemaphora said.

That was not an unreasonable request, so I sheathed my claws, turned my teeth back from fangs, and relaxed my muscles back down into their usual bulk and configuration.

“You didn’t know we were still here? Did you?” Mellina asked.

When I built my body, I was trying to mimic Trina’s, so including autonomic functions like blushing was both an attempt to better pass as her and an artistic challenge. From how my face heated up, I felt I was owed an award of some kind for the work I’d done.

“I can hear you, but I can’t see any of you,” I said, this time with actual calm in my voice.

“You haven’t left the room you were in,” Mellina said. “But your eyes do look a little odd?”

“That’s part of the spell,” Yarrin said. “It’s so she can see her sister.”

“Shouldn’t her ears look weird too then?” Ilyan asked.

It wasn’t the worst question but it also wasn’t the question I wanted an answer to.

“Can you all hear Trina?” I asked.

“She is your sister?” Idrina asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“We can hear her as clearly as you do then I believe,” she said.

“Good. So they’re going to die?” I asked, hoping to make space for Trina to answer again.

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” Trina said. She had a small, amused smile on her face, I think at the blush I was still wearing. Her smile faded as she continued speaking though. “You saw what happened to the two knights? That effect was powered by the two souls you rescued. Two souls which hadn’t been allowed to die. That’s what they wish to do to you.”

There were about a thousand questions that jumped to mind about that, but I kept them to myself, more than happy to listen to Trina’s voice over my own.

“They also powered the weapons and armor on the Cadets during the trials, didn’t they?” Mellina asked.

“Yes. That was a field test for the units to see how the magics performed in the hands of less skilled casters,” Trina said.

“How do you know this?” Idrina asked.

“I’ve been dead for ten years now, but I haven’t been gone for any of them,” Trina said.

“Because of Kati?” Yarrin asked.

“Partially. She made what could have been an excruciating situation much easier. It was how I died that allowed me to do what I’ve done for the last decade though.”

“You’ve been acting as a spy?” Mellina asked.

“A liaison,” Trina said. “As you’ve seen, there are people in the living world who tamper with the dead. Just so are there people who would see them punished for the crimes they commit. People both of the living world and beyond.”

“So you can do this kind of thing with them too?” Ilyan asked.

“Speak freely like this?” Trina laughed. “Not on my best day. Or theirs. Without my sister to act as a conduit, none of this would be possible. Since it is though, you all are our best chance to stop any more ghosts from being bound into the Clockwork Realm. Unfortunately, for your sakes, that also means you will be the absolute highest of priority targets to be eliminated, or even better, eliminated and bound into the Clockwork Realm to serve as puppets to cover up the failing parts of this scheme.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance that the people who are responsible for all this are somehow only aware of me?” I asked.

“Not from the whispers I’ve been hearing,” Trina said. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re their primary target, but these aren’t people who are big on showing restraint.”

A chill gripped me heart.

“Grammy! What about her? Is she in danger too?” I asked, rising to my feet.

“Grammy’s okay,” Trina said. “I checked on her just a few minutes ago.”

“Will they send people after her though?” I wanted to hop into a carriage and ride back home right away. Okay. No. I wanted to change into my fastest form and run there on my own. Trina held out a steading hand though and that’s all it took to root me in place.

“Grammy’s well protected,” she said. “Also, I think the Great Houses are still terrified of her.”

“What? Why?” I asked.

“You remember when my parents were killed?” Trina said. “Grammy went away for a little bit after that?”

“Yeah, I thought that was weird, but I was just a wolf pup at the time, so I couldn’t do much about it,” I said.

“I couldn’t either, and I thought the same thing,” Trina said. “I was able to find out what happened later though, well, after I died. Do you know where she went? House Dryleaf, and then on to the court of Baron Boath Lightstone.”

“Umm, isn’t House Dryleaf a dead house though?” Ilyan asked.

“It wasn’t before Grammy, Doxle, and a few other Imperial Advisor’s gave them a ‘visit’,” Trina said.

“As I recall Baron Boath was lost on an ocean voyage though?” Idrina said.

“Yes. No need to have a traditional open casket funeral when the deceased body has been claimed by the waves,” Trina said. “Or is not in a fit state for anyone with a pulse to look at. That was the report anyway. I didn’t get to see what was left of the body myself obviously.”

“Doxle did all that?” I asked.

“Grammy did all that. Doxle and the Imperial Advisors were there simply to sanction the affair and provide witness to the other Great Houses.”

“Your grandmother sounds awesome,” Ilyan said.

“She is,” Trina and I said at the same time.

I thought back to the years I’d spent with her, especially the ones where it had been just the two of us and the household staff. Had she given any sense of being the terrifying force of nature that Trina spoke of? Had she ever smelled like one?

No. No she hadn’t.

Was I sure she couldn’t hide her scent like Doxle could though?

No. No I was not.

In fact, as I picked through old memories, a lot of odd discrepancies started coming back to me. Grammy had always seemed restrained. Always. No one is ‘always’ anything. Not unless they are wearing a very specific kind of mask, one which they’ve chosen to embody fully and which has grown so comfortable than their core identity begins to blend with the illusion, even if they retain their more bestial self within for the moments when its needed.

Which is silly, of course. Who would do something like that?

A more disturbing thought occurred to me. After a decade of practice, I was reasonably good at noticing things like that about people. How good would I be when I reached Grammy’s age? And how likely was it that a little monster who’d been pretending to be wolf pup and had switched to pretending to be my grand daughter would be able to fool me?

The thought of running back home was not as urgent as it had been for some reason.

“If we’re going to fight back against this scheme of controlling people by binding them up as Clockwork Souls, we’ll need to know more about it,” Mellina said. “Who’s behind it, how they’re doing it, what weak points they might have.”

“Wait. Why are you fighting back against anything?” I asked. “I get…” I did not get it, so I tried a different approach. “This is dangerous. Truly dangerous. If I’d known…” If I’d known what I was doing, I would still have done all the same things. Or most of them.

“If you’d know we would be put in danger by your actions, you would have shielded us from harm? Spurned us and cast us away so that your enemies wouldn’t hurt us too?” Mellina asked.

“Exactly! None of you deserve to be in this boat. The last time a Great House was pissed off at my family, Trina’s parent’s died, and I don’t know if I can wipe out a Great House to avenge each of you. And I don’t want to have to avenge you at all!”

“That wasn’t the last time a Great House took someone from our family,” Trina said.

I turned to her, puzzled by who else they could have taken from us.

“You remember the Reaving Storm that I died in?” she said and a cold dread began to seep into my soul.

“No,” I said, not answering her question.

“It cracked the earth open and I tumbled in,” Trina said.

“No.” I said, not denying her account.

“It’s because I was killed within a Reaving Storm that my soul was able to linger on closer to the material world,” she said. “Three other realms where so nearby that when my spirit drifted free that I wound up too confused over which one was calling me, so I stayed close to this world.”

“Does that mean anyone who dies in the Reaving Storm becomes a ghost?” Ilyan asked.

“Not anyone,” Trina said. “Most Reaving Storms churn and swirl, the Transcendent Realms crashing about like sand in a shaking bowl. The spirits of people lost in natural storms may get jostled around a bit but the call of the Realm Beyond still reaches them. It’s when it’s just a few realms, and they’re held close to the material world that the call echoes too clearly from too many of them for a spirit to make out the path they should take. Those people wind up like me. If they’re lucky.”

“So what creates an unnatural storm?” I asked, hating that I already knew the answer. It wasn’t hard to figure out. 

The technique that I’d worked out for creating rifts and traveling between the realms, the one I’d used to get the zoo of Reaving Beasts home and to return home myself from the Clockwork Cosmos? At it’s heart it held the simple truth that what separated the material world from the other realms could be undone, and if that was true, then calling forth a storm was all too easy.

“There are days when the most effective form of communication I can manage involves incoherent screams flung out to echo against an empty and unknowing sky. On other occasions, I find myself able to wax eloquent for hours upon end, dazzling my audience with the bot mots and timely anecdotes which spill effortlessly from my lips. 

It may come as some surprise therefor that it is more often the wordless screams to an uncaring cosmos which express my desires with the most depth and clarity.

The problem is not me, you see, it’s everyone else, as is so often true of life. Words land on people’s ears and are often twisted around or forgotten before they can leave an impression. Blood curdling cries of rage however reach out to a deeper part of the mind. People hear words, but they listen to to screams, because what they are truly paying attention to are the emotions around them.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxle of the First Flame to Shaela Ironbriar moments before her speech as the first Head of House to ascend to rulership after the Great Calamity.

It started with blood. That wasn’t a surprise. Not with who I’d been sent to for help with the spell.

“We paint a circle,” Vena said.

“We scribe a limit and a focus,” Hemaphora said.

“To hold the power we share.” Vena.

“To make tangible the desire we bring.” Hemaphora.

“In blood it is written.” One of them.

“So that the life that is may call to the life that was.” The other.

“Blood of the lost.” I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Blood of the one who remains.” Both of them?

“We don’t have Trina’s blood though,” I said, worried the spell would fail before we even began to cast it. “We never got her body back.”

“Her blood is yours. And yours is hers. You are family.” The room around us had gone dark as the blackest night and the voices I was hearing weren’t really sounding like the two girls I’d come to for help anymore.

That really should have been scary.

It really should not have felt like I’d come home.

Around me, I could smell the scents of my housemates but they were so very distant. I knew they were in the room with me, and it wasn’t a large room, but from how dim their scents had grown I suspected I could shout at the top of my voice and they would have to strain to hear me.

Where they were distant though, a swirl of inhuman scents were close enough to caress me. They did not smell kind, and they did not smell merciful, and I rather liked that about them. There was no artifice in their scent, no concealment. They were what they were and, in their own way, they were beautiful.

I, on other hand, felt a lie sitting unvoiced in my chest like a block of stone. I was going to ruin everything. The spell would fail all because I clung to something that I knew wasn’t true no matter how much I desired and needed it to be.

I tried to push it out past my lips, but the lie had stuck within me for so long that I couldn’t dislodge it.

“What if my blood is wrong?” I asked. It wasn’t an admission, but it was the closest I could come to one.

“Your magic cannot alter that which is.”

I wasn’t sure how they knew that. I wasn’t sure it was even true.

“At least not this.” 

“It’s not my magic I’m worried about,” I said, which absolutely was true. I’d been able to shift my blood into close enough matches to each of my housemates to pass Vena and Hemaphora’s earlier ritual. I was pretty sure I could mimic anything else they needed, except for the small problem that I needed to be able to sense the blood I was trying to replicate and Trina’s had been swallowed up by the earth ten years ago.

If I’d been thinking about it at the time, rather than being blinded by howling grief and mad to prevent Grammy from suffering the same pain, I might have been able to form myself into a duplicate of Trina even down to the level of the inner workings of her cell. 

Well, I might have been able to if I had the skill with my magic then that I did after practicing it constantly for a decade. I had to be fair to younger-me though, she’d done the best she could with the skills she had and it had worked well enough to fool everyone.

Or at least I think it had fooled everyone? That was another thought I didn’t have time to process, so onto the pile of vague worries it went.

“Worry is natural.” I think that was Hemaphora who said that. Maybe.

“We fear that which we desire. We run from belief in that which we need, lest desire and need break us when they are unfulfilled.”

“From this too you can run.”

“You need not cast beyond the veil.”

“You need not speak to the one who remains.”

“You may hold tight to the safety of grief and remain lost.”

“You’re heart is your own.”

“We are merely here to guide one soul to another.”

I thought they’d gotten something backwards there. I wasn’t the one who’d been lost. And Trina hadn’t remained with me.

Except…

“It’s not my grief I’m afraid of holding onto,” I said. “That will stay to remind me of my love for my sister whether I choose it or not. It’s me. My blood. It’s not my sisters. It’s not Trina’s.”

I couldn’t say anymore. It would break me.

“I’m not her sister.” Better to break than to lose her again.

I guess I expected a gasp of surprise. 

Maybe whispers of disbelief?

Laughter though? 

That did not fit.

Not at all.

“Oh how delightful.”

“We thank you so very much!”

It wasn’t some kind of generalized mirth.

They were laughing at me.

Deep, belly laughs.

I scowled, a perfectly natural wave of anger rising up to blot out any shame which I might or might not have been feeling.

“Poor, sweet dear,” one of them said.

“How deep has your needless suffering been?”

“How long have you been lost in that mistake?”

I thought they were asking about how long I’ve been pretending to be Trina.

But of course they weren’t.

I was just an idiot.

“I think ever since I died,” Trina said.

The rest of the world fell away.

My housemates scent wasn’t merely distant, it was gone.

The darkness of the room had swallowed the whole world but that didn’t matter.

Even without the sun or the stars, there was still light before me and it was her.

“H-how?” I believe I mentioned I’m an idiot. We’d already done this and yet the brain I’d built was clearly defective and ready to run through the stages of disbelief all over.

“Very simply,” Vena said.

“Your blood has been calling to her since we began,” Hemaphora said.

“Also, your friend is very clever,” Vena said.

“This spell is a delight,” Hemaphora said.

“To speak to our family again will be wonderful.”

“We thank you.”

“B-but..” I didn’t know how to argue with that.

I didn’t know why I wanted to argue with it either.

“Have you really thought you weren’t my sister this whole time?” Trina asked, patting the non-existent ground in front of where she was sitting.

“No, I, well, I mean, I…” There’s a reason I often resort to silence as my answer in conversations. “I pretended to be you. And I’m not. I never could be.”

I sat down opposite Trina, hoping she wasn’t going to turn away from me in punishment for my transgressions.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry for that,” she said. “That wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t fair to you, and I should have been there.”

Literally none of those words made sense. Not one of them. 

Did the dead speak their own language? One where all the means were mirrored and backwards?

“I took your life though?” I said. “That was my idea. No one made me do it.”

That made her scowl at me.

Which meant I was going to punished.

Which was fine.

I deserved it.

I closed my eyes anyways though.

Which is why the feel of two hands gently holding the side of my face came as a stomach liquifying shock.

“You. Did. Not. Take. My. Life.” She said the words with clear and solid force. Not anger. Not at me at any rate. 

“You didn’t kill me,” she said again, softer this time. “It wasn’t my time, and my death did not need to happen, but you, of all people, YOU, are not to blame.”

“I was too slow,” I said. “I tried, but I was too slow. I was too far away. If I hadn’t been too far away I would have been fast enough. I could have…I was supposed to save you.”

“No. No, hush.” Her arms wrapped around me and I felt small as a puppy again. “We don’t always have the power to save the people we love. It hurts, because being separated like this sucks, but the pain isn’t because you didn’t do enough. It’s because we’re apart. You did everything you could, and so much more. You gave me a reason to go on after my parents were killed. You gave me joy so many time when I would have been swept away by sadness. And even after I passed? You’ve inspired me so many times. I am so proud that you called yourself my sister. That you took care of Grammy for me. That you became this amazing person who figured out how do this! A way for us to talk? I’ve looked for that for so long and you figured it out within, what, a half a day of being told it was possible.”

I opened my eyes to find myself looking at her shoulder as Trina continued to hug me.

“So please,” she continued. “Don’t say you’re not my sister.” And now she was crying. “And don’t ever, ever regret what you did for Grammy. I gave you my name. I’m the one who wanted to share it with you, don’t you remember? ‘Katrina’ was too big for me. I just wanted to be Trina and you, well, Kati sounded better than Ka I guess. But it was my idea. So, yes, you pretended to be me, but do you really think there’s anyone else I would have wanted to do that? Or that I wouldn’t have wanted you to be safe and cared for? You are Kati Riverbond. For as long as you want to be. And you’re my sister forever. No matter what you want. Understood!”

For just a moment, she was the Imperious Eight Year Old that she’d been on rare occasions, and I was glad beyond words for it.

“I’ve missed you,” I said. 

Yeah, I know, kinda obvious, but words aren’t really my thing.

“I’ve been with you, as much as I can,” she said.

“How?” I asked, pulling back a little so I could see her face. 

It wasn’t the face I was used to seeing her wear. It wasn’t even the one I’d imagined she’d grow into (also known as the one I’d shaped for myself). What it was though was undeniably hers. And I love it.

“You made it easy,” she said. “You always kept me close to your heart, and if there’s one thing that’s simple for an only-somewhat-departed soul to do, it’s look back on the parts of the living world where they still matter.”

I hiccupped at that.

She hadn’t left me. 

I’d already cried about that. It was stupid. But I cried about it again anyways.

Cried and cried until something she’d just said caught my attention.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘only-somewhat-departed’? What happened to you?” I asked.

“That’s why we had to talk,” she said. “I need to tell you why I died, so you can make sure it stops happening to other people, your friends in particular.”

“It’s not entirely inaccurate to say that life is little more than a string of connections between people. They define our position in society and act as guidelines and boundary ropes on who we can be and what we can do. 

We may dislike some of our connections. We may even do our very best to sever them, either by cutting distasteful people out of our life, or removing them from life in general, but even should we be successful, the connection which once existed remains.

A hated enemy may lie moldering in an unmarked grave, or a jealous ex-love may have been bundled off to held the war effort in some far away land from which they shall never return, but still their influence on our life will always remain. We are who we are because of how we hated them, or the compromises we made until we were too fed up to deal with their spitefulness any longer. Like scars, they remain carved into the persona we’ve created, and though their influence will fade with time, it never truly vanishes.

If you can accept that, then consider the same is true for the connections which we cherish. Though they may be lost to us, or so far away that all hope of seeing them again seems impossible, the connection we share with them will always be a part of us. If hate can carve a valley into our soul, then surely love leaves marks even deeper still.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxle of the First Flame in an unsent letter to the Empress Eternal.

So I was a Mom. Eighteen years old, unwed, technically unemployed, and now I had a daughter to take care of.

Being a Mom hadn’t been a problem before I came to the Academy. It hadn’t really been a part of my agenda at all. But that was how my life was going.

To be fair of course, my daughter was pretty easy to care for. Narla was, in point of fact, older than me (not an especially common trait for daughters as far as I was aware), and was more capable of take care of herself than I was (not a terribly high bar to clear given the generally wretched job I’d done of take care of myself).

Also, her status as my daughter was possibly somewhat arguable at the moment. There was almost certainly a lot of paperwork we would have to file, and potentially the blessing of some higher authority to obtain. I felt no small measure of regret that someone might try to argue those points with Narla, mostly because I wouldn’t be around to watch what happened to them. I mean, I’d cheated her out of one brawl by ending it via an impromptu beheading, I couldn’t really begrudge her a chance to have her fun too, it just would have been nice to see it. (My housemates might possibly be a bad influence on me. Or I was on them. Or I could blame Doxle. Yeah. That seemed like a safe bet.) 

“You want to go back, don’t you?” Yarrin asked. We weren’t running to where Vena and Hemaphora were, but that was only because running people attract attention and ambushes and we’d had quite enough of both already.

“No. I’m good,” I said. “I just hope she’ll be okay.”

“You know she’s going to be okay,” Mellina said. “You’re just hoping she doesn’t have too much fun without us.”

“I’m still wearing about a half gallon of the last bit of fun we have, so I’m hoping she’s not going to have any fun at all,” I said.

“Wow, you really do sound like a Mom,” Ilyan said.

So I hit him.

Not hard.

I wasn’t try to break anything, I just couldn’t say ‘I’m not a Mom’ given that it hadn’t even been ten minutes since I’d official become one.

Yarrin held up a hand to stop any further conversation, which I assumed meant another ambush was ahead of us.

That turned out to be partially true. The ‘ambush’ in question was a class of the Common Cadets rushing from one late night class to another. Their scents were a thundercloud of anxiety and excitement, with a tinge around the edges of the hints of an exhaustion which shouldn’t have been present in their first few days of classwork.

They streamed past us, careful not to make eye contact or say anything which might attract our attention.

“Were they afraid of us?” I asked once the last one had vanished around a corner.

“They’re afraid of all the Elite Cadets,” Idrina said. She sounded bored by that, but her scent held a surprising amount of anger.

“We’re not held accountable for the same things they are,” Mellina said. “And they don’t get the same benefit of the doubt as an Elite.”

Given that Idrina had been put on trial and thrown into a death battle over an issue they really couldn’t prove she was responsible for, I wasn’t entirely clear on which doubts we were being given any benefits on, but it was all too easy to imagine how much worse the Academy might be treating people who lacked their own Imperial Advisor to speak for them and/or weren’t the Heads of one of the Great Houses.

That wasn’t something I could fix or even influence much. Yet. It did further my belief that burning the Academy to the ground would be a net positive, especially if that was followed by burning the Great Houses down too. For the moment however, I had something more important to work on.

“Are they still where they were?” I asked, trusting Yarrin to know that ‘they’ referred to Vena and Hemaphora.

“Same building,” he said. “They had moved around a bit though.”

“Good, that says they’re still awake.” I was going to ask them for a favor, waking them up to do so was probably not a winning strategy I felt.

“So are the ones who are with them, I think,” Yarrin said.

“These are the people who are hidden from your senses?” Idrina asked.

“I’m not sure they’re people, but, yes.” Yarrin didn’t seem overly bothered that we were approaching what might be a building full of monsters, so I decided to roll with it and not worry either.

It’s funny how deciding not to worry about something does absolutely nothing in terms of whether or not you actually worry about it. By the time we reached the house Yarrin was leading us to, my nerves were taut enough to play with a violin bow.

“Should we knock?” Ilyan asked as the door to what looked like a completely abandoned dormitory swung open all on its own.

“Apparently we already did,” Mellina said and stepped forward to lead us in.

I shuffled Yarrin behind me, along with the twins, and followed Mellina in. Yarrin was a great and powerful caster in his own right, but he was easily the worst fighter in our little group. I’d have preferred to have Narla as a guard at our backs but, even with their injuries, Idrina and Ilyan were likely to be enough.

Cobwebs and dust were the aesthetic the dorm was painted in. One of the stairways which rose up from the entrance hall was so choked with webs in fact that at least one human sized spider had to have been a resident at some point. I couldn’t smell anything to suggest that they were still lurking about but then a proper predator would set themselves up to prevent that.

Atop the other set of stairs, two shadows waited for us with the scant moonlit in the room reflecting off their eyes while leaving the rest of the faces shrouded in darkness.

“You’ve come to us…” Vena said.

“So soon?” Hemaphora said.

“Might you want…” Vena said.

“To speak with a ghost?” Hemaphora asked.

“You’re very well informed,” Mellina said, a note of appreciation in her voice.

“Perhaps we saw the future?” Vena said.

“Fate has brought us stranger tides than this,” Hemaphora said.

“Perhaps,” Mellina said. “But I’m going to guess your friend over there filled you in on at least a few of the details.”

I followed the line of her vision when she glanced away from them and saw that she was staring at nothing.

The nothing moved, revealing that it was very much a something.

At ten feet tall it was a great deal of something, as was the matte black halberd it carried.

“It’s not alone,” Yarrin whispered and I was pretty sure he didn’t mean there were only one or two others hidden around us.

The giant sketched a deep bow in Mellina’s direction, turned to Vena and Hemaphora as though asking permission from them, and then dropped through the floor.

It would have been a great prelude to an attack. There was a lot less we could have done to guard against an assault from underneath. That wasn’t its plan though. As far as I could tell, it was off duty or something because it left and didn’t show up again.

“If you know why we’re here, I’ll just ask, will you help with what we need?” I said. Given the look and feel of the dormitory, theatrics and grandstanding were probably supposed to be the order of the day, but I just wanted to talk to Trina.

“Of course,” Vena said.

“You’ve brought us such a wonderful gift after all!” Hemaphora said.

Before I could spend too long wondering what I had that they might want, I saw a mist of red droplets flowing away from me.

Blood of course.

What else would it be?

Not mine though, so, I tallied it in the win column.

Then I remembered whose blood it was.

“That belonged to kind of a jerk. I don’t know if that will mess up what you want to do with it?” I said.

“It’s the blood of justice done,” Vena said.

“It will do quite nicely for its intended purpose,” Hemaphora said. 

I considered asking what that purpose was, but ultimately that was a big pile of ‘not my business’, so I settled for nodding in understanding.

“You know what we’d like to do, and, I presume, where we were,” Yarrin said. “Do you already know the spell I researched?”

“No,” Vena said.

“And that is the other gift we will take,” Hemaphora said. 

“You’re not going to do anything bad with it, are you?” Ilyan asked.

“Not to you or yours,” Hemaphora said.

“Oh. Good.” And that was enough for him.

I was tempted to tease him about it, but it was definitely not the right time. Also he’d probably say something like ‘Well they looked nice so of course I trusted them.’

“Follow us,” Vena said.

“If you would be so kind,” Hemaphora added as they descended the stairs together and lead us to a door which in turn lead us down into the crypts.

I could have said ‘basement’ or ‘cellar’ but those would not have been the correct terms, not with all of the funerary vases which lined the walls (crypt may have been technically incorrect too but it conveyed the ‘there are dead people here’ idea better).

“Whatever the parameters of the spell, you will need to sit here if you wish to speak to the departed,” Vena said, gesturing to a simple red mat in the middle of a room whose most notable feature was the pile of coffins along both sides of the room.

“You will want to begin attuning to the one you wish to speak with,” Hemaphora said. “We will speak with Master Yarrin to learn the particulars of the spell to use, but a common element in all of them is that the medium must be able to forge the bridge to the departed and that is easiest done by someone who knew them well.”

And so I sat down, alone, in the middle of a room where everything smelled of ancient death and called Trina to mind, remembering with each breath the moments of life we’d shared together.

“People love to argue about guilt and innocence, taking an emotionally charged action and winnowing it down to just a single facet, a single dividing line to slice it between those who deserve to be punished, and those who are allowed to inflict punishment. 

Typically the answer can be determined before evidence is presented. In some cases that’s fair, with the whole constellation of factors which led to an action being definitively wrong. Some people simply have no moral boundaries and act with greed and malice aforethought after all. 

In other cases, generally where an offense has been made against those who hold power, the powerful will ensure that the powerless will receive a verdict designed to ensure that they remain so. 

Where things become interesting is when someone with power offends another powerful faction. Do their reasons matter then? Is it possible to untangle who is deserving of punishment from those who should be allowed to deliver it when both parties are capable of thoroughly obscuring the truth? 

There answer there is a simple one; sometimes it’s not possible. The vital corollary to that however is that you must always try nonetheless.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxle of the First Flame on presenting the corpse of Vorthos Greycloak to the Imperial High Council.

Some forms of combat are clean and bloodless. Ones which involve beheading, unsurprisingly, can not be counted among that number. The host of problems with that only occurred to me after I’d been covered in blood once again. That it wasn’t my blood was a welcome change but still felt like a mistake.

In fact, I knew I had made a mistake, and an apology was definitely in order.

“Please forgive me,” I said. “I did not mean to steal your kill like that.”

I was speaking to Idrina of course, since I had in fact been somewhat rude in overriding the attack she’d made on the miscreant who’d set her off.

“No forgiveness is required,” Idrina said. “He gave the first and fatal offense.”

“And the second and the third,” Ilyan said. He was smiling where his sister was not, which was probably not doing anything great for my mental health. A week ago, I’d never killed even one human being. Within the last two days my body count had been steadily rising and, disconcertingly, I couldn’t find it in myself to be upset over this one.

“Damn it!” Narla said. “They all ran off!”

I knew my housemates were not normal people. Normal people wouldn’t have joined someone like me in the first place. Narla’s look of disappointment at not getting to tear anyone’s head off herself though told me that I had probably been underestimating just how ‘not normal’ they were.

“We should leave before a real patrol shows up,” Yarrin said.

“That would be a mistake,” Idrina said. “We will need to answer for what was done here.”

“They’ll have less of a case against us if we’re not here when they find the body,” Mellina said.

“What is this ‘us’?” I asked. “There is no ‘us’ here. ‘Me’. They will try to bring a case against me. None of you had any choice in what just happened.”

“I must disagree,” Idrina said.

“You took the fall for me once already today,” I said. “It’s my turn now.”

“It doesn’t have to be either of your turns,” Mellina said.

“I’m afraid it kind of does,” Ilyan said. “The guys who ran off? They know how we are. At least Kati, Idrina and me.”

“Their testimony against the head of a House won’t be worth anything,” Mellina said. “They probably won’t even be allowed to testify.”

“I’m not worried about court proceedings,” I said, because I was slightly stupid in that regard. “House Ironbriar’s not going to overlook this, will they?” I looked to Idrina and Ilyan for the answer I already knew they would give me.

Except they didn’t.

“You were given offense. I was given offense. We acted within the bounds of honor. There should be no judgment passed against us,” Idrina said.

“Come on sis, you know there will be,” Ilyan said. “If they took what happened earlier as an excuse to kick Dad off the family council, you’ve got to see they’re not playing by the rules that they taught us.”

“We have only the word of a dead man that Father has been removed from his position,” Idrina said. “I would verify his claim directly before I assumed anything the dead fool uttered is true.”

“Is that something you can check?” Narla asked. “I mean, if it’s true, wouldn’t you be in danger if you marched in and asked your family directly?”

“We are not without allies of our own,” Idrina said. “Holman spoke for me, and he would speak you as well,” she nodded to Ilyan when she said that. “Though you have done nothing to besmirch our Houses honor.”

“I left them,” Ilyan said. “Trust me, they will not care whatever else I’ve done wrong. If our Aunts and Uncles can find a path to eliminate me, they will take it, whether it’s honorable or no.”

“If you return with me…” Idrina started to say but Ilyan gently cut her off.

“If I go back with you now, they’ll consider me a coward as well as a traitor. This isn’t the time for that, and…well, they aren’t the people I’d want to go back to.”

Idrina didn’t react to that. She didn’t flinch back, she didn’t frown, and she certainly didn’t cry. Only her scent carried the sharp sting of pain that followed Ilyan’s words.

Even without my olfactory abilities though, he sensed it too.

“They aren’t who I thought they were,” he said. “But you are. The only reason I’d go back there is for you, if you needed me, or just needed anyone in your corner.”

Idrina remained as impassive as ever to that but a melange of emotions too complex for me to unravel rolled off her in waves for a few moments.

“Neither of you need to return to your House,” I said. “In fact, I believe I should ask you to stay.”

“Why?” Mellina asked, her eyes narrows in suspicion.

“I’m not versed on all of the finer points of Imperial law, but when one of the Great Houses is considering declaring war on another, it is common to take hostages in preparation for the declaration and the negotiations which follow isn’t it?”

No one answered me for another long moment, but I could smell the surprise wafting off all of them.

That probably shouldn’t have made me smile.

A girl my age who was covered in blood and smiling is not, it turns out, the most comforting sight in the world.

“You…you’re going to declare war on House Ironbriar?” Mellina asked.

“House Riverbond plans to, yes,” I said.

The Empress had been onboard with my half baked idea to destroy the Great Houses. I wasn’t sure what sort of support I could expect if I tried to take down Ironbriar, but I was pretty certain anything she could do would be more than House Ironbriar would be counting on.

I expected a loud and sustained chorus of voices to follow my declaration telling me I’d lost my mind and that I couldn’t possibly do what I so obviously wanted to.

And of course I was mistaken again.

“Adopt me!” Narla said, her eyes so wide and hopeful I could have gone for a swim in them.

“There are official papers you’ll want to draw up to declare war,” Yarrin said, apparently as unconcerned as the rest with the still leaking corpse at my feet.

“You think this is a good idea?” I asked, unable to keep my astonishment from showing.

“It has merit,” Idrina…IDRINA of all people…said.

“You’re thinking that if you and your brother are held as hostages, House Ironbriar will have to negotiate in order to save face with the other Houses?” Mellina asked.

“That and Lady Riverbond has room to go on the offensive here,” Idrina said. “She can argue that not only did House Ironbriar offer insult to House Riverbond in the form of their Cadet’s actions, but that House Ironbriar has engaged in a pattern of such assaults and is waging an undeclared war against her House already.”

“What pattern?” Ilyan asked.

“Oh!” I said, catching Idrina’s line of thinking.

“Mine,” she said. “I’ve assaulted Lady Riverbond twice now, on one occasion causing grievous injury.”

“That doesn’t count,” I said. “That was a fair duel and you acted honorably within the confines of the battle.”

Yes, I was arguing that it was fine that she’d stabbed me in the heart and kicked me off a forty foot tall pillar to my death. No, that wasn’t terribly rational of me. Yes, I knew that. Most importantly though, shut up.

“You may still point to it in support of your claim,” Idrina said.

“I will not,” I said. “It would dishonor you.”

A particularly fragrant burst of frustration mixed with something else followed that.

“I do not need you to guard my honor,” Idrina said, frustration tinging into anger.

“Of course not,” I said, affronted at the very notion. “But neither can I in good conscience cast doubts or aspersions on it.”

Somehow when I was speaking to Idrina, it was very difficult not to fall into the same level of formality she used. I had Grammy to thank for giving me any ability to mimic that kind of speech, since otherwise I tended to talk like the house staff rather than the nobility which I was apparently claiming to be.

“One thing to consider though,” Yarrin said. “If we become embroiled in a legal proceeding between House Riverbond and House Ironbriar, we may not be able to speak with Vena and Hemaphora until we’re done, which will delay speaking to your sister.”

“Allow us to remain here then,” Idrina said. “Ilyan and I can stay and explain things to the   next patrol to show up. You don’t need to be here to present your case in person.”

“That’s a good idea with one significant problem,” Mellina said. “On the positive side, a patrol might be inclined to try to take us all in for arrest, and even though they lack to authority to arrest a Head of House, the lack may not prevent them.”

“Which means we’d need to kill a real patrol too.”

“Yes, but that’s not a significant problem,” Mellina said, which, again, not normal people my housemates. “No, the problem is with our hostages being the ones to enter House Riverbond’s grievances.”

“Ah, yeah, that would be hard to justify wouldn’t it?” Ilyan said.

“Not if we’re bond by honor,” Idrina said.

“Sorry sis, a hostage’s duty is to gain their freedom unless and until an agreement has been reached for their release,” Ilyan said. It sounded like he was quoting someone they both knew and from the look on Idrina’s face she remembered that lesson as well.

“That’s not a problem,” Narla said. “Oh, not you two. Ilyan’s right, we can’t have you two explain anything. Your House would just snatch you both back up, and then do whatever they wanted to you. We need an actual member of House Riverbond to do the talking.”

“I can stay here alone,” I said. “You all can go and find out what’s up with Vena and Hemaphora and I’ll join you once I’m tired of answering the Academy’s questions.”

“Nope,” Narla said. “Did you miss the part about you not being allowed to get arrested? The Academy can’t arrest a Head of House. So if they arrest you, that’s an argument that you’re not really the Head of House Riverbond.”

“Uh, I don’t think it actually works like that,” I said, feeling pretty certain at least Doxle would raise a few pointed objections on my behalf. “And, if I don’t stay, who’s going to? You said we need an actual member of House Riverbond to do the talking.”

“Yeah. Me,” Narla said.

“You’re a member of House Riverbond?” I asked.

“I will be once you adopt me,” she said with utter and complete seriousness.

“Go looking for adventure? Why would I ever be inclined to do that? Don’t you know that adventures are what ambush you when you’re attempting to take part in some entirely reasonable activity of your own, like an afternoon of calming gardening, or serving a new mixture of tea to an intimate party of guests, or casting a misguided Count down into the bowels of Hell, or a perfectly lovely stroll along the manor’s roads after the spring thaw to view the state of the grounds. No matter how mundane the task you set out to undertake, you can never predict when an adventure will be waiting to complicate everything you had planned.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxle of the First Flame as he and two dear friends finish disposing of the last of the bodies.

It seemed like it would have been polite to let Yarrin and Narla head off to whatever assignation they could negotiate a path too, but, unfortunately for them, I had no idea how to find Vena and Hemaphora short of wandering back to where we’d last seen them and playing blood hound all over the Academy.

Since I was pretty sure the wrong sort of people would notice me padding around the grounds as a Dire Wolf, I had to regretfully impose on Yarrin’s time. To my surprise though, neither he nor Narla (nor Ilyan) seemed to have assumed they were going anywhere but wherever I was next.

“They’re not hidden at the moment,” Yarrin said before I could ask him if he’d help me locate the blood sisters. “So I think finding them shouldn’t be too bad.”

“You know where they are?” Mellina asked, only mildly surprise at the news.

“In a general sense, yeah, I’m not sure what else is around them though,” he said.

“You’re magic is limited to people you’ve met?” Idrina asked. She wasn’t sizing him up for battle. Yarrin wasn’t a threat to her. Plus she wasn’t in any shape for more fighting. Of those I was pretty sure at least one was true, and I was really hoping it was the one I thought it was. 

“No, or well, yeah, it’s better with people I’ve met,” Yarrin said, admitting weakness as though he was surrounded by people who would shield him from any harm that might result. “In this case though the problem is that I can see that there are people or things around them but those things are hiding. So when we find Vena and Hemaphora, we’ll have company, and I can’t tell how happy that company will be to see us.”

“This is not a good group to be unhappy with,” Narla said.

I saw Idrina straighten up at that, as though compelled to take her place on a fighting line that didn’t exist yet. Worryingly, I was still reasonably certain that even in her current state, she’d still be a better fighter than I was.

“Since I need to ask Vena and Hemaphora’s help, I’m thinking we’ll just try talking first,” I said. “If the hiding people are their friends and family, it may be better for me to endure a little hostility if that’s needed to convince them to work on the spell.”

“And what if they’re hostile to the rest of us?” Mellina asked, not at all worried by the notion, just curious from what I could see and smell.

“That would be a mistake on their part,” I said. “I won’t ask any of you to suffer any indignities on my account.”

“You haven’t asked for any of this,” Mellina said.

“It wouldn’t have been fair,” I said. “None of you owe me anything.”

“That is not entirely true,” Idrina said.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes it is. You are, all of you, free of any obligations to me or to House Riverbond. I refuse to bind you. Even implicitly.”

“That’s very important to you, isn’t it?” Mellina asked, her curiosity sharpening.

“I won’t own anyone,” I said. “That’s where most of the trouble in the world starts.”

It was a lesson Grammy had taught me without ever saying a word of it. She’d had simply been emphatic with the people she employed and how she believed others were to be treated. She lived her whole life as a sort of condemnation of what she saw as being wrong in the Empire. It hadn’t made her even a tiny bit popular, but there was a lightness to her spirit that seemed to come from living in a manner which agreed with her conscience.

“Yeah, no kidding, that’s why we love you,” Ilyan said. 

I expected him to punch my shoulder, and I’m pretty sure he would have except he was standing a bit too far away.  That none of the others disagreed with him seemed weird though. Of all of them, only Idrina had a notable reaction and that was to turn and shoot her brother a glare.

“And it’s why we’re going to help you contact your sister,” Yarrin said.

“Plus we’re really curious to see how this turns out,” Narla said. “And all the good fights are happening where you are and I don’t want to miss out on any of them.”

I suspected that last point was the strongest incentive for her and paused to be grateful that I was at least nominally on the same side as Narla was. I glanced over to Idrina to see if she shared Narla’s sentiment, since it seemed rather likely she did, but found she was looking away, her attention captured by some of the books I guessed.

“I’m going to do my best to avoid any fights for the rest of the night at least,” I said. “It’s been kind of a long day so far.”

“Would you like to travel under concealment then?” Mellina asked.

“Maybe we could skip that?” Ilyan said. “It’s great and all, but my magic goes a little nuts and…”

He didn’t finish the thought, apparently not being as willing to say ‘and I’m far too beat up to deal with that kind of agony tonight’. I was not one to throw stones in that particular glass house, and I noted that Idrina hadn’t even been willing to admit that Mellina’s cloak of shadows bothered her, when the whiffs of pain I caught from her said it was even worse for her than it was for Ilyan.

“That sounds fine,” I said. “If we run into anyone, I’ll tell them I’m following the directive of an Imperial Advisor, which has the benefit of being true and something that can be verified.”

It was a sound plan. I’d have a whole lot of companionship when I walked into whatever lair Vena and Hemaphora were holed up in, and my companions would be covered under the mandate that Doxle had given me. I could have explained too that the Empress herself had told me to seek out my sister, but I was pretty sure no one was going to believe me on that and I wasn’t sure I wanted people to know I was working for her just yet.

The thought struck me again that I was taking a page from Doxle’s playbook in trying to convince potential enemies to overlook or underestimate me.

That probably wasn’t a good sign. I hadn’t know him that long and he was already rubbing off on me. What was I going to look like after working with him for a month? Or a year? Or a decade?

Probably best not to think about that.

What would have been better to think about was the small patrol of upperclassmen who ran into us as we exited the library.

“Classes are done. What are you all doing here?” asked their leader, a tall boy who’d shaved his head bald and adorned it with a tattoo of House Ironbriar.

“Research,” I said. It should have been obvious, but then anyone who painted their house affiliation on the side of their head like a targeting bullseye probably couldn’t be relief on to figured out the obvious.

“Heh, right, what kind of research?” His six friend posted up beyond him, bringing their group to a point of at least numerical superiority to mine.

“The book kind,” I said. Yeah, I know I wasn’t being helpful, and my skills at deescalation were miserable, but I was trying.

“You’re funny. You think you’re funny don’t you?” He asked, stepping closer to loom over me. I smelled a few different aromas of aggression from behind me, but help out a hand as a small call for calm. 

The last thing I needed was Ilyan starting a brawl that would leave him in worse shape than he was.

“Not really,” I said. “I suck at humor. You’re with House Ironbriar right?”

He obviously wasn’t just a fanboy for them, but giving him something to talk about that he could be proud of struck me a decent approach to take.

“What’s it to you?” the boy asked.

“Ironbriar provides security for the Academy,” I said, ignoring his question. “Are you part of the watch?”

“Nah, we’re freelancers.” He said it like he was dropping a hilarious joke and his cohort seemed to agree that is was.

“Volunteers?” I said. “Your efforts are a credit to your house then.”

I was trying, really trying to find some peaceful waters to share with them. There was literally no reason at all for there to be hostility between us. Someday we’d probably need to work together. Heck someday our lives might depend on each other. Forging some tiny semblance of camaraderie would pay off so well in the long run.

Plus I had two members of House Ironbriar behind me and one of them had already tried to kill me for an insult given to her house.

“A credit? Yeah, that we are,” the leader said and for a brief moment I was able to hope he’d turned the corner. “The important thing is that you know that, and know your place.”

So much for hoping he’d discovered a clue there.

“Yep. Our place is over there,” I said, pointing in the direction we’d been heading before they stopped us.

“Nah, see, that’s where you got it wrong,” he said and stepped close enough to step on my feet. “Your place is where we say it is you little plebes.”

I want it noted that I did not do anything violent at all then. I feel I deserve a tremendous amount of recognition for that.

“You’ll want to step back and reconsider your position here,” I said in a calm and clear voice. 

So he shoved me in the chest.

“And why’s that plebe?” the leader said.

“Because she is the head of House Riverbond,” Idrina said. “Insult her and you insult her House.”

“Who asked you?” the leader said and then noticed who he was addressing. “Oh wait, you’re Iyrthan’s little brat, or wow, both of them. We got a matched set here guys. Heard the psycho-girl caused a big mess for her family though.”

“You’re going to want to address the people in my party with respect,” I said keeping the growl that was building inside out of my voice.

“Oh? What are you going to do about it if I don’t?” he said and cupped my chin with his left hand.

I feel it’s extremely important to note that it was still attached to him at that point.

“If you choose to assault my companions, physically, or verbally, I will be forced to take that as an assault on House Riverbon and react accordingly,” I said without emotion.

Was that not a clue? Was it not a very obvious clue?

“I’m not assaulting anyone,” the leader said without releasing my face. “I’m just saying what I heard. It’s not every day that the family council gets to kick a worthless lout like Iyrthan out after all. I mean I should really be thanking that little bi…”

It turned out to be fairly difficult for the leader to complete his sentence with a spear piercing the right side of his body front to back, including the lung he’d been using for being such an annoying jerk.

“You…you killed him!” one of his cohort shouted as they all began to back away.

“No, she didn’t kill him,” I said.

He was choking and gasping but he still hadn’t let go of my face.

So I tore his head off.

“I killed him,” I said.

“When people talk of ‘Secrets Man Was Not Meant To Know’, they are largely talking about things which are dangerous when one puts too little thought into their application.

The ability to call forth a Plague of Fire Devourers for example is a perennial scare tactic as an army of twelve foot long worms made of fire and rage tend to put a damper on most people’s plans for the day. 

Of course if one does possess the knowledge of how to call forth the Fire Devourers then one intrinsically will understand the mechanism for moving said creatures across dimensional boundaries. With that capability, the caster is as easily able to banish the beasts to their home dimensions as to summon them in the first place.

Of course, certain problems will arise if the summoner calls them into, say, a confined study and is burn to ash before they are aware of the need work the banishing charm. You would think that to be an unlikely event, and yet, here we are.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxel of the First Flame in the ashen remains of the third manor to have burned to ground within one week of the publication of ‘The New Traditional Book of Proper Fire Casting’.

I have a thing about not being able to see people who are intent on doing me harm. Invisible predators don’t precisely scare me. I mean, being a predator is a perfectly natural thing, and being able to turn invisible is a solid trick in anyone’s arsenal. Neither of those alone is enough to set me on edge. It’s when someone thinks that they get to try to hunt me because they’ve put those two things together than I feel a deep visceral need to explain two things to them; first, invisibility is only one of the traits you would need to evade my senses and, second, I am a predator too and smart predators do not hunt things like me.

“How close are they?” I asked Yarrin and heard the others start to rise from table where they’d seated themselves. 

“Too far for me to reach, but so near I can feel their breath on my neck,” he said, still sunk into the distant eye’d daze.

I took a deep breath and smelled nothing but my housemates, the books, and the Archivist.

I believed Yarrin nonetheless.

There were plenty of places monsters could hide which would swallow their scent. Most of those were locations between the material realm, but it didn’t seem unlikely that Yarrin was peering well beyond the boundaries of our world.

I closed my eyes, laid a hand on Yarrin’s arm and changed my eyes to match his.

Regular illumination wasn’t going to show me what I needed. I needed the light of unseen stars.

When I opened my eyes it wasn’t the library or my companions that I saw anymore. Gone were the limitations of form and matter and in their place the vista around me burned with bonfires of light.

The torch-like fire beside me was Yarrin, or his magic to be more precise. All the power he held within, colored and spun into a holy flame of his own persona. Around us, where the book shelves should have been, flickers and sparks of power shone clearly against a backdrop of dark and empty tomes.

Rising from the emptiness where the table our housemates were at, four more sparks began to glow in power and brilliance.

And then there were the wraiths.

Not beings of fire and life but rather constructs of magic twisted back in on themselves. 

“They’re not people,” I said, probably sounding as distant as Yarrin had.

“They weren’t meant to be,” Yarrin said. “I can see the hopes in their construction. They were supposed to carry the souls of the ones who penned the book we need. Like armor to shelter a spirit in. It was part of their ritual. They made the book and inscribed it with their wisdom because that was part of how they intended to overcome death. Immortality bound in ink and words. The wraiths were the other half, but something failed.”

“Does that mean the book’s useless to us?” I asked.

“Not at all. We just can’t use it to become immortal. Looks like it works great for sending magic across the veil of life though.”

He sounded a lot more coherent, but I had to wonder if that was because I was seeing things from his perspective.

“What happens if you take the book?” I asked, wondering if that’s what it would take to complete the circuit and pull him free from their influence.

“They take me,” he said. “The book is acting as a phylactery for them. All of them. Anyone who picks it up with the intent to use the spells within risks disrupting it’s status as the anchor point for their souls, so they’ll drag the offender into their realm where the connection can’t be broken.”

“Oh. Is that all? Well in that case, allow me,” I said and dropped my touch on his arm before striding over towards the book case.

The others yelled “wait” and “stop” but we all knew I wasn’t going to do that. I was lucky there because Idrina could definitely have blocked me if she was up to full speed. Instead I got to the book I’d seen while sharing Yarrin’s vision and yanked it off the shelf, being careful to focus on the clear and specific fact that I was going to cast as many spells from the book as I needed to in order to contact my dead sister.

That did not endear me to them.

I’d gotten about two steps away from the bookshelf before invisible, intangible fingers wrapped around me and yanked me bodily across the veil between worlds, hurling me into the lightless, soundless void where the wraiths had managed to trap themselves in their quest for immortality.

Before I describe what happened next, allow me to suggest a scenario. Imagine a group of very clever chickens or pheasants or other disturbing poultry-form animals had managed to set up a hidden cave. They were cut off in the cave and safe there from the ravages of the seasons but they hungered deeply for the little bugs which crawled in the world beyond the cave. Perhaps once in a while they managed to tempt a bug into the cave’s interior when the poor little bug caught their attention and desired something cave-related. A miserable existence to be sure, but one in which the little collection of unthinking poultry instincts which passed for their minds assured them was right and proper. In the unforgiving gloom they’d banished themselves to, the silly little birds imagined themselves to be the brightest and most clever and worthiest beings in all creation.

Now imagine that in place of a helpless little bug, they lured a giant wolf into their tiny shadow realm.

That’s about how things went.

It was helpful that I’d worked out how to form rifts on my own. It made getting back from the wraith’s domain substantially easier than it would have been. 

To be fair, the wraith’s world was so close to the material one that the trip could barely be called a magical one. Tearing a rift open was roughly as difficult as ripping wet tissue paper, which was probably why the wraiths had been able to keep such a close eye on their book. Despite that, I still managed to plop back into the material world in a jumble of arms and legs which left a great deal to be desired in the dignity department. In my defense, I at least had said arms and legs looking properly human by the time I returned.

And, again credit to me, not a lot of time had passed.

My housemates wore various degrees of concern on their faces and the Archivist was in the middle of weaving a spell, but otherwise the library was unchanged.

“…should not have been…” the Archivist was in the middle of saying and came to a stop only when I hit the floor loud enough to draw her attention.

“Kati!” Narla said and had me hoisted effortlessly up onto my feet before I could blink.

“Oh, hey, thanks there,” I said. “Got a little turned around coming back.”

“Coming back?” Idrina asked.

“Yes. Please do explain,” the Archivist said, her fingers stilling and allowing the magic she’d built up to disperse harmlessly into back in the aether.

“There was a trap on the book we needed,” I said. “It was going to eat Yarrin, so I sprang it instead.”

“You disappeared,” the Archivist said.

“I sprang it into the realm of the trapmakers?” I said, which I knew wasn’t much of an explanation. “They won’t be a problem anymore.” I noticed I had some bits still on me so I brushed them off.

“And you returned when they were defeated and their realm collapsed?” the Archivist asked.

“I don’t think returning earlier was an option,” I said, which had the virtue of being both entirely true and nicely misleading. I mean if she was going to hand me a ready made explanation for how I got back that didn’t require I know how to make rifts myself, far be it from me not to capitalize on that. Especially if I could do so while technically telling the truth.

When I noticed how I was thinking I paused for a moment.

Was that how Doxle thought all the time?

Or was that why he’d picked me?

Yikes for either one.

“My apologies,” Archivist Zirneklis said. “It’s rare-to-unheard of that the guardians of a tome should be able to bodily abduct someone. Typically they will simply enthrall the mind in unbreakable bonds.”

“That sounds worse,” Narla said.

“The enchantments they use are less potent than the name suggests. The bonds are unbreakable for the ones entrapped within them. So long as there is someone aware of their fate who is not caught by the enchantments, freeing the captive is relatively straightforward. Had I known there was unusual peril waiting you here, I would have barred you from entry.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said. “This book has what we need.”

“How can you tell?” Mellina asked.

“Yarrin picked it out,” I said.

“I don’t understand how the wraiths grabbed you though?” he said. “The magics I used to find the book gave them a channel back to me. That’s why I needed to get to it. Once I had it I knew I’d be able to claim ownership over and it break the book free from their control. But I didn’t do that and it looks like it’s free anyways.”

“Uh. Yeah. They’re not in an ‘owning books’ state anymore,” I said. I didn’t really want to explain what I’d done because it was kinda worrisome and I was happier with them just thinking of me as I stood before them rather than what I could be or do.

“Does that mean we can take it with us now?” Ilyan asked.

“Material ownership of the tome has not changed. It still belongs to my library,” the Archivist said. “Though should you need to reference it, I will ensure that it is always available for you.”

“I don’t think we’ll need very much from it, will we?” I said and cast a glance over to Yarrin.

“Sort of,” he said. “We’ll need everything in the book to adapt the spellwork to talk to your sister, but it won’t take long  to get it.”

“That’s a pretty thick book,” Narla said. “Even if you read fast, we’re going to be here all night and most of tomorrow won’t we?”

Yarrin smiled. No. He smirked. I smiled. It was good to see a bit of confidence bubble up in him.

Without saying a word, he laid his left hand on the cover of the book, breathed in, and then looked up.

“Did you have plans for tonight? Because I’m done,” he said.

I refrained from whistling, even though he deserved one for being that smooth.

The others were a bit surprised by that. I don’t think anyone had really fathomed just how potent Yarrin’s magic was. To be fair, they couldn’t smell it like I could.

Narla though? She took it all in stride, regarding Yarrin with an appraising eyes.

“You know, I just might,” she said.

“When I was young, I dreamed of what I would need to be in order to change the world. It was a wretched place you see. Corruption throughout the halls of power, an endless army of people who cared only to see those like me suffer, and no spaces where I could live, and grow, and pursue the dreams which held meaning in my heart.

You may wonder if this bleak view of the world was merely a product of my youthful ignorance. The tortured imaginings of one who had been wounded by the world and could not see how it truly worked.

I assure you, this was not the case. With the benefit of years, and the callouses of time having worn the sting of my early sorrows down to nothing, I can look back on those days with a new clarity and see them as they were.

And they were awful.

They are still awful mind you – but – and here is the key understanding which the centuries have granted to me – things could be worse. Would be worse of a certainty in fact, but for the efforts of those who believed they could be better.

It is to them, we owe the world that we have, and to those like them who will follow after that we owe the future we will create. But what need we to be? What answer have I found for the dreams of my youth? Who must we become to forge the future we would leave as our legacy?

Ourselves. Nothing more if required, and nothing more can we be.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxle of the First Flame whispering to his two hundredth niece on the day she was born.

Despite nominally attending the Imperial Academy in order to pursue an advanced education, it didn’t seem like many of the Imperial Cadets held much interest in cracking open the covers of a book, at least not based on the crowd, or lack thereof, in the Great Library when we arrived.

“Why is no one here?” I asked in a whisper. I didn’t need to whisper. There wasn’t anyone around to hear me, but the few times Grammy had taken me to a library the size of the Academy’s there had been very strict rules about making noise which had somehow stuck with me.

“Most Cadets have their own libraries to draw on, or have private tutors if they feel the need for one,” Mellina said. She was walking on the far side of Idrina from me, in part I think to guard our right flank and protect the twins who were still working on recovering from the fight with the Clockwork monster.

“That and the Library’s only open to the ranking cadets,” Narla said. “All the kids in the common track have to settle for the libraries in their dorms.”

“So the people who actually need these books…?” I asked.

“Are the ones who are barred from accessing them,” Yarrin said, as though the answer to my question was in the slightest bit of doubt.

“In truth, they do not need these books,” Idrina said. She smelled subdued and there was a wobble in her step when she spoke which suggested the words had jumped to her lips as a reflexive defense of the Academy but only been allowed to pass after they were painted with a coat of regret. “The coursework they’re given to study is focused on practical matters; logistics, scheduling, field medicine. Their whole curriculum is focused on teaching skills which have well understood structure. The books gathered here were collected for their information on esoteric subjects. They’re concerned more with the theoretical and philosophical than anything that’s applicable for daily use.”

“That sounds like what I need,” I said. “But shouldn’t anyone be able to benefit from expanding their mind if they’re willing to put in the effort?”

I expected to start an argument with that. I hadn’t been intending to, but as the words escaped from my mouth and reached my ears, I heard how Idrina might take them as a challenge. Weirdly, she didn’t.

Instead she chuckled.

Which…yeah that was creepy.

“Yes, they would, but the common program doesn’t have the gaps in training ours does. They’re still in class now,” she said. “Even should they desire to broaden their knowledge, none of the common students are given the time.”

I had no idea what the exact time of day was apart from ‘very late’. Since the sun hadn’t started rising yet, I felt comfortable calling it the same night as the one in which I’d met with the Empress Eternal, her Eternal Majesty and Dread Tyrant and all that stuff. The thought that anyone was still up and doing required classwork seemed mind boggling horrible and yet another reason to burn the entire place to ground.

“I would prefer prior notification if you should pursue that endeavor,” Archivist Zirneklis said.

I don’t startle. With what I can do with my body and my tendency towards claws and fangs, startling when surprised is the sort of thing that could leave a lot of body parts strewn over a rather wide area. So I don’t startle.

I did jump a little though, but the squeak did not come from me.

“What endeavor?” I asked turning around to find a completely mild and unassuming older woman behind me.

Archivist Zirneklis had her hair up in a bun, was wearing a simple pale blue blouse and a cream colored skirt, as well as a pair of multi-lensed glasses which prevented me from seeing anything about her eyes.

I was very glad of that.

I didn’t know why, but I knew that I was.

“Burning down the Academy,” she said.

Which meant she was a mind read.

“I am not a mind reader,” she said. “I am merely very familiar with how Doxle’s children think.”

“You were not married to him,” I said, because that was a perfectly reasonable thing to say to the perfectly ordinary woman standing in front of me, as opposed to something like ‘how did you know Doxle sent me?’ or ‘what do you mean Doxle’s children?’

“That is correct,” she said. “You are here for one of the Forbidden tomes.”

Again, lots of questions I could have asked there. Lots of questions I arguably should have asked. Instead I sniffed.

Book bindings and silk. No magic though. The first didn’t surprise me. The second was wrong. I knew it was wrong too. I could feel the aura that radiated from the Archivist but the threads of magic which made it up were invisible to me.

“We are,” I said. I’ll admit that I was unsettled by how much she seemed to know and the palpable sense of ancient wisdom which hung around her, but apart from those I found her rather delightful to deal with. She was so direct and clear. Like she understood that the point of speaking was to communicate ideas, ideally the faster the better.

“Which one.”

“We don’t know.”

“But I believe I’ll be able to find it,” Yarrin said.

“We want to talk to the dead,” Narla added, a fan of clarity in her own right it seemed.

“A loved one?” the Archivist asked.

“Yes,” I said. “My sister.”

“Departed this year?”

“No. It’s been ten years,” I said, the number not feeling real at all, despite it representing the majority of my time in this world.

“My condolences,” she said, and I knew she wasn’t offering me words of comfort for Trina’s death ten years ago.

“Lady Riverbond met her sister earlier today,” Yarrin said. “We believe one of the existing necromantic communication spells might be repurposed to establish contact since we’re not dealing with a ghost tethered to this realm.”

“Is that so?” the Archivist, wonder and delight lighting up her face as the scent of fresh ink rose from her.

That was probably a good sign. I was going to take that as a good sign.

“Would we be able to take the book with us if we can find the one we need?” Mellina asked.

“Of course not,” the Archivist said without admonition.

“Studying it here should be enough,” Yarrin said. “If that’s acceptable?”

“It’s gotta be. This is a library isn’t it? That’s what you do in libraries is read books,” Ilyan said.

“Just so,” the Archivist said. “Follow me if you will.”

And so we did because, seriously, who would refuse an invitation like that?

As we descended the fifth set of stairs into an even deeper basement level than the last I began to wonder if the correct answer was ‘any one with an interest in seeing the next sunrise’, but we pressed on.

The twins had the hardest time with the multi-mile hike down into the endless basements of the library. Ilyan put on a brave face but wound up with his arm over Yarrin’s shoulders for support once climbing the stairs and his injured muscles began to disagree with each other too much. Narla looked like she wanted to simply pick him up in a bridal carry to save him the effort entirely, but was probably concerned what it would do to the poor boy’s dignity. I suspected she could have hoisted both Ilyan and Yarrin up and neither would have complained all that much but that was for them to work out.

Idrina meanwhile soldiered on without flinching or complaint.

Because of course she did.

She only showed a moment’s weakness when we reached an older section of the stair and her foot fell off one of the fractured step edges.

I caught her before she could topple much – it wasn’t exactly hard since we weren’t that far apart on the stairs, but I did spend a moment considering if I should offer her my shoulder for support too. Before I could though, she straightened back up, nodded in thanks, and began to continue on, though just a little slower than before.

I stayed a bit closer to her after that since there was no telling how low her reserves were. My guess was ‘pretty much entirely tapped out’ since she didn’t seem to mind me being close enough to catch her if she even slightly started to fall again.

“I hope you will find what you are looking for,” the Archivist said, gesturing to the nearly endless rows of shelves on the final floor.

“Where should we start looking?” I asked, reasoning that a Librarian was the most appropriate person to ask that question of.

“Over here,” Yarrin said and started wandering off in what very much sounded like a daze.

I gestured for the others to talk a seat at one of the nearby tables, sliding out a chair so that Idrina wouldn’t have to, before hurrying off to catch up to Yarrin.

“What are you seeing?” I asked, trying to interpret his Thousand-Yard stare.

“Far too much,” he said, which was the opposite of both informative and comforting.

“You gonna be okay there?” I asked, ready to knock him out and drag everyone out of here if need be.

“I don’t know. That’s not knowable. This is fun though,” he sounded disembodied, which, I assumed, was not a good state for him to be in.

“Fun things can be dangerous,” I said.

“Everything’s dangerous if you know what to do with it,” he said. “Or if you don’t.”

“Right. That’s enough book-catnip for you then. Let’s go,” I said, taking him by the arm and dragging him back towards the stairs.

Whatever mystical tomes were held in the libraries lowest levels, they were clearly not the sort of thing that someone with as much informational magic as Yarrin possessed should be exposed to.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I can see the one we want.”

He pointed to a book on the third shelf of a rack to the right of us.

“This place is affecting you. I don’t think we want to open any book that’s calling to you here,” I said.

“We have to,” he said. “I have to complete the circuit or they’ll have me forever.”

“They who?” I asked.

“The ones who wrote the scripture we need,” he said. “They’re here with us now, and they’re not happy.”

“Those we lose are never as distant as we imagine.”

– Xindir Harshek Doxle of the First Flame on returning from the venture of transformation to become an Imperial Advisor.

I’m good at noticing people sneaking up on me. I have senses that are far sharper than most animals. I kept the instincts from my early Dire Wolf form to stay sensitive to danger. I’m able to perceive magic directly if something seems off in my surroundings.

None of those had told me Yarrin had joined me before he spoke though.

He hadn’t used any special magic to do so. All he’d done was walk up quietly and sat down, leaning against the opposite wall. It hadn’t been his fault at all that I’d missed him. It had been my own.

“Yeah,” I said, mostly as an admission to myself that I’d fallen into a spiral of thoughts that wasn’t at all heathy for me to linger on, with a small bit of agreement to his assertion that I needed his help to talk with Trina again.

The little smile he gave me and the small shift in his scent said he’d picked up on all of that.

“You’ve had a long day. Are you up for making it a longer one?”

“I’m okay. It’s…there’s just been a lot to process today. Physically I’m in decent shape though,” I lied. I’d nearly ripped myself and my magic to shreds opening rifts to other worlds for the first time, I’d fought both against and for Idrina, and I’d tangled with both an angry clockwork monster and the cosmos it hailed from. My body was mobile largely because I desired it to be and my magic was willing to agree with that sentiment. 

I should have let myself rest, but I had more magic to drawn on, and more I needed to do.

“We can go now then if you want?” Yarrin asked, rising to his feet in the process. “The others are ready too.”

I stared at him for a moment, processing that.

Why were my housemates helping me with this?

I needed Yarrin according to Trina to help find the right book, and I needed the twins to perform the spell. I’d owe them all for that, and pay them back however I could. Apparently I had money now? Not that I expected they’d take gold coins for what I was asking. It seemed too directly mercenary somehow?

The others though? They didn’t have to be a part of this at all. 

Maybe they were just going to send us off?

Or maybe Narla and Ilyan wanted to safeguard Yarrin? That one checked out. I don’t think any of them knew the feelings they were developing for the others, but their subconscious awareness was already strong enough that they’d begun orbiting each other as a natural habit.

Mellina on the other hand? Curiosity maybe? I couldn’t really tell.

“Doxle said to ask the Archivist rather than simply stealing it,” I said, trusting Yarrin would hear the implied counterargument that we’d have to wait till the morning to do so.

“I know the Archivist he’s suggesting we speak to. She’ll be there now. In fact, it’s late enough that she may be the only one there.”

“We’ll need the twins too,” I said, not sure why I was coming up with excuses to put off confronting the biggest failure of my entire life.

“The twins? They’re here already,” he said, looking slightly puzzled at my statement.

“Vena and Hemaphora are here? Why?” There was no reason that should have snapped my disbelief. My entire life had been a shattering glass pain of what was real or unbelievable in the last few days. The idea that the two probably-not-human people I needed just happened to have already shown up on my doorstep was a step too far though.

Or a sign that I was trapped in a far more intricate scheme than I’d ever imagined.

Yarrin shared my disbelief for a moment. Or perhaps it was my confusion. It only took him a second to make sense of things though.

“Oh, okay, I suppose they would be helpful for something like this,” he said offering me his hand. “My mistake though. They’re not here, or at least not that I’m aware of. I had thought you meant Ilyan and his sister.”

I wish people would just start clubbing me in the head with tree trunks rather than saying things like that. It would be easier to understand and I could fix the damage to my brain with a lot less effort.

“Idrina? She’s here? What the hell is she doing here?” I got up. What else was I going to do? I clearly hadn’t come back to the world I’d known but rather some strange fun house version of it where nothing was allowed to make sense for longer than a minute at a time.

“She came to check on her brother. They both took some pretty hard hits from the clockwork knights,” he said. “Also, and I say this with the caveat that she is hard for me to read, I don’t think she’s too happy with her House at the moment.”

“Does she…” the idea was ridiculous, but since I had apparently become a resident in whacky world I asked anyways, “Does she want to stay with us?”

“She hasn’t said so yet. I think she might like that, but I can’t see if it’s something she’ll be able to ask for. It’s…she’s complicated to work out.”

I laughed at that. Not because it was true, though it was, but rather at the thought of Enika having a meltdown when her two star pupils defected over to Doxle’s house.

Not that they could really defect.

They had pact bonds the same as I did. So they were stuck with Enika whether they liked it or not.

Except she’d already let Ilyan join my House?

Which was weird, wasn’t it?

The tired mass of mush inside my skull threw a few pieces of itself back together and I caught a glimpse, or maybe just an imagination, of layers of political machinations unfolding with Enika and Doxle in a more complex relationship than the teasingly adversarial ex’s they claimed to be.

Happily that was not my problem, or my worry.

There was something freeing about knowing that the world wasn’t focused solely on me. There were so many problems floating around out there, knowing that at least a few of them would seek out someone else made it a lot easier to face the ones ahead of me.

“Thanks,” I said, setting off in the direction I presumed our main sitting room was.

“I haven’t done anything for you yet,” Yarrin said, falling into pace beside me.

“You know that’s not true.”

He smiled at that but the aroma of disagreement wafted over from him. We walked on without debating it further though until, by some miracle, we arrived at the sitting room I’d been trying to find.

Narla, Ilyan, Idrina, and Mellina were waiting for us, with Pastries embodied in barely visible whisps of water vapor serving a fresh tray of hor d’oeuvres to them.

“Hey, she’s back!” Ilyan said. He’d been laying down on one of the couches with Narla in a chair near his head and Idrina in one near his feet. “Where are we going next!”

I tipped my head to one side. I shouldn’t have wondered if he was being serious. This was Ilyan. If it was a terrible idea, of course he was being serious.

I bit back my initial answer of ‘the Library’. The hope which had spawned that was that Ilyan might find the library too boring to want to tag along with us to. Even before I spoke, I knew that was a foolish hope. 

Also, there was the matter of Idrina and how she would react to more rule breaking on my part. 

I wasn’t as terrified of her initiating another fight to death with me. In part because the secrets I’d been trying to protect were clearly not secrets to anyone important, like the Empress or the demon I was pact bonded to. More than that though, I was pretty sure she wasn’t interested in murdering me, like I thought she’d been.

Fighting me? Yes. Definitely. I could see the urge to hop into an enclosed space with me spark up behind her eyes as soon as she saw me, but for Idrina, fighting wasn’t about anger and rage. There was room for those emotions, and many others, in it, but she fought with her spears in the same manner that a poet writes with their favorite words. Both might say they wanted to kill you, but they were capable of expressing so much more than that too.

As oddly relaxing as a fight with her struck me as being in that moment though, I didn’t have enough left in me to speak her language properly, and to bring anything less to the contest would be an insult that I didn’t want to make.

Instead I held her gaze and nodded.

She was welcome here.

Whether it was only to visit her brother, or if she chose to stay, she was welcome.

I probably should have used words to convey that idea. Silent glances and subtle body language aren’t exactly the clearest modes of expression, but I thought she’d gotten the gist of my intent.

“Give her a chance to have some food,” Mellina said poking me in the arm to nudge me towards the open sofa which sat kitty corner with Ilyan’s couch and Idrina’s chair. 

Pastries produced another tray from, as far as I could tell, thin air, this one with a variety of meaty soups to choose from.

I was capable of eating them all.

I was capable of eating them all at once in fact.

I did not.

I probably should have. They were really good and having the extra protein and hydration and vitamins and minerals would have been delightful to have as easy fuel to rebuild my more dubiously reconstructed organs with.

But it would have looked gross.

And shown off how decidedly non-human I really was.

Which, again apparently, might not have been a surprise to anyone, but I…I just didn’t want them looking at me like something alien and weird.

So I ate the soup like a normal human girl of my age and general weight.

I mean, a girl my size could in theory have put away three of the soups if she was really hungry, so it wasn’t that unrealistic. 

And they weren’t staring at me as I ate which was what really mattered.

Instead they were talking about tomorrow.

No one knew what was scheduled to occur, but it seemed to be the common consensus at this point that schedules were a vague illusion at best. There was also a general consensus that the Imperial Academy was not what any of us had been led to believe it was. 

We danced around the subject of Idrina’s trial, mostly because Ilyan seemed borderline berserk over what had happened, specifically the danger Idrina had been in. He was cheerful enough about it, but I was reasonably certain if any of our classmates brought up the trial in the context of Idrina being in the wrong, or not having sufficiently proved herself in it, Ilyan would, without hesitation, murder the fool then and there.

Idrina didn’t look like she approved of that. I was reasonably certain she would want to be the one to murder said-fool instead, but despite the scowl she wore each time Ilyan spoke, there was a tenderness to her posture and a concern in her scent.

She loved her brother, and was endlessly exasperated with him, which, having met Ilyan for more than two minutes, I understood on a bone-deep level.

“So, are you done eating now our good Lady Riverbond?” Ilyan asked, adopting a flowery and formal tone and matching it to what was almost certainly the wrong form of address to help lighten the mood.

“I want to say no, but three bowls is probably enough,” I admitted, wiping the dregs of third bowl out with a final chunk of fresh bread.

Ilyan rose from his couch and stood tall and strong, only his scent betraying the lie in his posture.

“If you are done here, then where shall we go next?” he asked, his eyes, if not the rest of him, alight with a zeal for adventure.

“We are never so powerless as we imagine ourselves to be. This can have dreadful and unforeseeable consequences though as each word we speak and each action we take sends ripples out into the great pond of the world and the effects of those ripples are ones which can easily pass beyond the farthest borders of our lives.

So are we to foreswear taking action, or speaking our hearts, out of fear of the disasters which can result? Perhaps. Long years of regret would certainly argue for that. As tempting as it is to listen to those regrets though, the truth is that silence and inaction cast their own ripples, and lead to their own disasters. 

So which is the correct path? I can’t say for you, I have certainly chosen both and been happy with neither. From where I stand now though? Even if it leads me to sorrow and hardship, I choose to claim my life as my own. I will be silent no longer. I will shy away from no more choices. I will build my future my these too fallible hands and when it falls down around me, I shall build it again, regardless of whether I have only a single hour left, or centuries untold. The time remaining to us does not matter, only what we do with it.”

– Her Eternal Majesty, Empress Mysella, Dread Tyrant and Undying Foundation of the Realm on the 50th anniversary of the Great Calamity to the first of her special agents.

The Empress knew about Trina. She knew that the real Katrina Riverbond wasn’t me. She knew Trina still existed. She knew what my sister had been doing all these years. 

Those thoughts hit me, over and over, like hammer blows in a hurricane. All the secrecy which I’d felt protected by was gone and I stood at a perilous portal to an uncertain future.

We’d made it down all the stairs, through a maze of buildings, and inside our home, and I was still reeling from the idea that Trina was really out there. That she had been out there this whole time. 

Meeting her in the Clockwork Cosmos should have convinced me of that, and it had, but somehow hearing that someone else knew she existed made my own experience even more real and undeniable than it had been.

“I need to steal a forbidden book,” I said to no one in particular. 

Doxle was walking right beside me, holding my arm, I think so I wouldn’t topple over. I wasn’t that unsteady on me feet but I also wasn’t paying all that much attention to where I was going, or other minor things, like how legs were supposed to work.

“Most forbidden books are in libraries,” he said. “While I shall never speak against theft, great or small, it may benefit you in this case to simply borrow it.”

“It’s forbidden though?” I was pretty sure he wasn’t being serious, but with he sounded so ernest it was hard to tell. “I’m pretty sure they don’t lend those out.”

“That largely depends on who you ask and how you phrase the request.”

“Do you know the librarian here at the Academy. Wait, were you married to them?” 

“That is of no importance,” he said, confirming my suspicion. “What matters is that the Archivist is a deeply curious woman. Explain why you wish to borrow whatever book it is you need and she will very likely allow you to at least study it within the library.”

That seemed terribly reasonable.

I squinted my eyes and searched for the joke or trap in his suggestion. Reasonable behavior was disallowed by Imperial decree or something wasn’t it?

To all appearances though, Doxle was being honest. 

Which he usually was I noticed. He could twist honest statements to make them work towards whatever end he wanted but despite being a demon he didn’t seem to lie much at all.

“You know which book I want, don’t you?” I asked, guessing mostly from how calm and incurious he was being.

“You wish to contact the previous Lady Riverbond,” he said. “There are, in fact, several forbidden tomes in the archives which contain the details on various methods to achieve that. If you ask the Archivist, she will insure you are given one of the ones with few curses on it.”

“How did you know…” I wasn’t sure how to even finish the question.

“I believe you were instructed to ‘ask your sister’?” he said, pausing us outside one of the living rooms I hadn’t been in yet. “I know some small details of your history, and could hazard guesses as to slightly more. That you are the second in your generation to bear the title of ‘Lady Riverbond’ took no great intuition though, not with the various members of the Riverbond family I’ve known over the years.”

“You knew…,” I wanted to say ‘my family’, but that was a complicated subject and one that I felt less comfortable than ever in laying claim to, “…the House before it fell?” 

“Not the whole of it, just some of the better and worse members,” he said. “Overall it was a very typical Great House before it’s fortunes turned. Your adopted father had the right idea in moving what remained of the family away from the capital and outside the realm of political influence. It wasn’t enough of course – the victorious Great Houses enjoy tying up loose ends more than in healthy or reasonable – but it was still likely the best he could have done.”

“If they wanted to finish off the Riverbonds, why did they stop there? Shouldn’t they have come after me too?” I asked. I’d always known that the death’s of Trina’s parents had been due to unnatural causes. Grammy hadn’t spoke much about it but she had disappeared for a couple of weeks after their funeral and when she’d come back she’d been strangely grim for a while. She hadn’t smelled of blood though. That was definitely not a memory I had excised in order to keep Trina from noticing any change in my behavior afterwards. I’d just been playing hide and seek for a while for reasons completely unrelated to letting a bloodscent dissipate. 

“They did,” Doxle said. “Why do you think you lost your sister?”

I turned and rooted myself to the floor.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Your sister, the previous Katrina Riverbond, was lost in a Reaving Storm, was she not?” Doxle asked.

“No..she…I…how did you know?” He wasn’t supposed to have figured that out. No one was.

Except the Empress knew.

Had Trina told her?

Had Doxle talked to Trina too? Did he know about me before he ever met me?

“Curiosity,” he said. “After we forged our pact, I saw first hand what your Hollowing looks like. You aren’t just a remarkable caster, you are someone quite unique. Since House Riverbond wasn’t notable for producing powerful casters, I started investigating how someone of your skill and talent had been missed for so long.”

“But how did you know about Trina? Did you talk to her?”

“Alas, I did not have that privilege,” Doxle said. “Most of the departed do not linger in any realm close enough to ours for even the most truly dreadful of forbidden rituals to contact them. I should quite enjoy an opportunity to converse with her shade if she lingers still, but I imagine her time on this plane will be greatly limited and by rights, you should be granted as much time with her as the spellcasting can provide.”

“How did you know she was gone then?” I asked. I’d spent many years making certain no one knew of her demise, so it was hard to suppress the spark of anger at all of that effort having gone to nought the moment someone glanced in my direction.

“I asked your Grandmother,” Doxle said.

No.

He didn’t say that.

Grammy was the reason I’d taken Trina’s form.

Grammy couldn’t know that her last grand daughter had died years ago.

Grammy couldn’t know that I’d failed them both.

Doxle was lying.

He didn’t smell like he was lying.

He didn’t look like he was lying.

But he was lying.

There was nothing else that could be true.

He had to be lying.

I turned to confront him, and found myself in a dark and unused hallway.

I’d been running.

Probably?

I couldn’t remember the last few seconds? Minutes? Hours? Probably not hours. Probably minutes. I couldn’t remember them well, but I think I’d run away.

That was embarrassing. I’m not supposed to fall apart like that. I’m supposed to be inhumanly tough. Because I wasn’t a human. I was supposed to be brave, because nothing could hurt me. I was supposed to be…

I had no idea anymore.

For a long time I’d thought I was supposed to be a replacement for Trina. For Grammy’s sake. So she wouldn’t have to bear the grief of knowing her grand daughter was lost to her just as her children had been.

I slumped down against the wall and felt the memories of the most awful day I’d ever had crash over me, just as they’d done ten thousand times before.

It had been a bright and sunny day. I remembered that so clearly. The beauty of the day had stuck with me, and left me mildly hateful of clear weather since it was a lie about how nice the day would be.

Trina had wanted to play in the woods, and Grammy was willing to trust her so long as she brought me with her. A young girl in the woods might be in peril from many things, but a young girl and a full sized Dire Wolf who loved her had far fewer things to fear.

Trina had already given me the first part of her name by then – Kati being her mangled version of what was left over from ‘Katrina’ once she’d taken her part of the name from it. It didn’t really make sense. I worked that out a few years later, but it sounded good to her ears and I was happy to have anything that linked us together. I’d thought that link would keep us both safe. That as long as we were bonded together as the sisters she claimed we were, I could protect her with my teeth and fangs, and she could keep me safe and sheltered from the people who’d pulled me and mine into this world and then cut the rest of my family down.

Trina had upheld her part of that bargain, but I’d failed in mine.

The Reaving Storm, when it hit, had come on suddenly. From cloudless sky, a storm had rent through the bright blue dome and sent down a screaming wind which tore the ground open.

We’d been apart then. A dozen yard, which was eleven too many.

I’d leapt towards her as the ground split and she fell into the chasm which tore open at her feet.

I was faster than the wind but I wasn’t fast enough. I should have been faster. I should have been able to save her. To catch her before she fell. I should have been enough, but I wasn’t.

Instead she plummeted into the earth and I’d followed. 

The chasm had been deep.

And it had been sharp.

I’d known to abandon hope well before I reached the bottom. Well before I found her body. Well before I saw the cost of my failure. I knew to abandon hope, but hope is cruel and lingers far past when its been lost.

Down in the darkness, as the earth rumbled and crashed, as monsters emerged to scour the world, I saw the end of my world and I felt the unbearable weight of what I’d lost.

And then I heard Grammy calling.

And I knew I would lose her too.

I didn’t have a heart – not one that I needed – but anyone who did? It would have shattered and failed if presented with as much pain as I was feeling. I knew that with all the conviction of someone who was sure her experience was the same as everyone else’s in all things. 

That was when I gave up the life I’d had. Let go of the wolf I’d been pretending to be, and began a different game of pretend.

The world was not going to miss one mostly-civilized Dire Wolf cub. It would spin on just fine without the creature I’d been mistaken for. Without Trina though? Why even have a world without her? That was why it wasn’t a Dire Wolf who’d climbed back out of the pit we’d both fallen into.

I’d seen myself then,  reflected in Grammy’s eyes, when I crawled out of the Reaving Storm wrought crevasse. I’d looked terrible. The devastation of grief twisted my features even though I had changed them utterly from what they’d been.

Grammy and the others thought I was grieving the Dire Wolf cub who’d gone in to rescue me, and in a bizarre sense I was, so I let them continue to believe that.

That was the first time I’d turned to silence to hide from questions I couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. It was far from the last.

When the storm had passed, the crevasse had sealed itself back up, entombing Trina a hundred yards deep under the earth.

 Or so I’d thought.

If the person I’d encountered truly was her (and I knew she was, even if I’d wanted to deny it, I couldn’t, not with her scent being so true), then I’d failed her again.

Even with the earth crushed back together, I could have dug down. If she was out there, anywhere, I could have found her. Should have found her.

I’d seen the ruin the fall had made of her body. I’d felt hope slice my heart in two, and I’d done the only thing I could think of. 

I’d given up.

I wasn’t sure she could ever forgive me for that.

I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive me for that.

I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to.

“You’ll probably want to talk to her about that,” Yarrin said as he quietly sat down opposite me. “And to talk to her, you’re going to need me, right?”