《Shadowfire》


 ONE

    Breathe.


    My heartbeat maintained an accelerated staccato rhythm. The world had been reduced to just my immediate senses: the polished contrast of the bar against my callused hands; the way the air caressed my skin as I propelled my body over the bar in tight rotations and how my muscles strained as I fought to keep the momentum forceful; the roar of air against my ears competing against the music blaring in the background; the blurs of my elegant surroundings and those standing awestruck down below in stark contrast with the vivid details of my hands making the swift transitions on the trapeze bar; and the taste of my sweat. My focus was restricted to achieving perfection, and after the fifth spin, I forced my body into an immediate halt. My arms shook with exertion as I held the headstand on the trapeze bar.


    I inhaled and exhaled again before allowing my arms to collapse. I gave gravity a little control and fell enough to hang upside down on the bar. I shifted my body get the trapeze to swing. When I had enough momentum, I straightened my legs and propelled myself through the air.


    I was soaring.


    There was a thrill in defying physics and pretending I could fly.


    I had defied it enough times to feel confident in performing several somersaults through the air. After the third, I straightened my body, arched my spine, threw my arms out so that they were perpendicular to my core, and pointed my toes. At the last minute, when I could feel gravity commandeering my delusions, I grabbed for the strand of silk hanging from the high ceiling. My soaring came to an abrupt, jolting halt. The anchors held the silk stable. The violins in my performance music erupted into another fierce staccato bridge. Timing my ascension to those beats, I climbed higher on the silks; twenty feet was not high enough.


    When I had gone high enough to touch the ceiling with an outstretched hand, I stopped. The violin¡¯s staccato rhythm faded into more of a flowing melody produced by pianos. I quickly wrapped my leg into the silks before flinging myself backwards. Once again, I was hanging upside down. The silks spun slowly in a complete rotation as I held the position. The details of my surroundings blurred together. Once I had gone a full rotation, I activated the downward spiral. The silks protected me from a lethal fall. Five feet, ten feet, until I flipped myself upwards against the downward momentum, grabbed a hold of the silks, and thrusted myself backwards.


    I executed several backwards somersaults to the aerial hoop hanging eight feet away from the silks. My grip was solid, and my arms held strong as I held onto the bottom of the hoop. I had disturbed its equilibrium with my leap, and it swung violently. Still, I heaved my body up onto the hoop that became my swing. I leaned back against the hoop, allowing it to support me. I took a few moments to breathe before continuing with the rest of the routine. Still, I was performing, and was conscious of visual grace: my toes were pointed in a visually appealing way; one leg was straightened, the other bent so that the knee formed a perfect right triangle. My spine was resting against the side of the hoop, as if I was a goddess resting on her crescent moon. My arms took on the responsibility of the performance now and flowed through different positions as I fought to get my heartbeat reduced to more manageable levels.


    "Are you done trying to give me a heart attack?" I heard the question through the earpiece that was inserted in my ear. My stomach fluttered at the sound of hearing his voice so intimately. "Just so we''re on the same page, I''m not planning on spending my evening trying to put you back together when you splatter all over the floor."


    "You mean watching Vega put me back together," I bantered, at once amused. I caught the musical cue indicating that my rest was over. Feeling like I had caught my breath and my heartbeat was at near normal levels, I progressed to the part of my routine involving the hoop. This involved flowing through different poses, including a sideways split where I was perpendicular to the ground and then going through variations of yoga''s bow and one-legged king pigeon poses.


    Jay was not as amused. "If you continue to operate under the delusion you can fly, I¡¯m getting a beer," he threatened.


    My lips twitched into a wider smile as I hung upside down. Jay''s voice had reintroduced the rest of the world. The audience had circled around the performance ring. One section of it had people wearing exceedingly ostentatious outfits and in a stream of constant, jittery movement as they glanced up at me and waited for their turn in the spotlight. Rhinestones and sequins were used heavily in the performers'' outfits. Twenty feet above, their faces were blurry. They became more distorted when I hung upside down, protected from gravity''s pull by only my feet hooked around the hoop. Spectators contributed to the rest of the audience. Those who had arrived at Union Station with the main intention of observing the competition were in the inner circles. Those who had stumbled upon the performances as they roamed the city contributed to the outer circles; the daring feats, artistry, and music drawing their attention. Some held their cell phones, no doubt capturing my performance on video.


    My performance may have been just a ruse, a means to an end, but I couldn¡¯t help the influx of happiness that I felt from it. I had been tempting gravity and falls ever since I was four years old. I was in my element wrapped up in the silks thirty feet above ground. However, I hadn¡¯t trained or performed anywhere this beautiful before. The Denver Union Station''s architecture relied on a mixture of the Beaux-Arts, classical, and Romanesque revivals to create a refined ambience. Lamps hung from the ceiling, though they were unnecessary. There were windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling on the back wall of the station¡¯s great hall that allowed in a good quantity of natural light. Long wooden tables and pews offered travelers and guests places to sit while they enjoyed their surroundings. An ice cream and coffee shop, a bar offering craft beer, and a bookstore claimed spaces along the perimeter of the hall and underneath the two-and-three story balconies that overlooked the square interior.


    However, Denver¡¯s Union Station''s original identity was a train station. The property still clung onto that identity. The tracks to the long-distance trains had been installed underneath the great hall, while the more metropolitan trains had been installed to the building''s rear.


    "Just wait until I bring out the fire," I teased, muttering as to not disturb the performance.


    Jay''s groan came through the earpiece. "Should I just go over to the bar right now and order six tequila shots?"


    "You could just trust me," I countered before I crunched upwards to regain a seated position on the hoop. The normal spin of the hoop had me gazing directly in Jay¡¯s direction. He was an easy figure to spot, even though Galileo had wanted him to be inconspicuous. Unlike the crowd of spectators underneath me, Jay stood by himself on the perimeter of the great hall near the east entry. By design, he wore nondescript clothing that matched the sophistication of the building¡¯s grand architecture and design. However, the newsboy hat, light blue button up shirt, and gray slacks did nothing to conceal his formidable form or cocky disposition. His hat concealed half of his face as he stared at his cell phone. His shaggy shoulder length hair displayed Jay''s true personality: no matter how much you dressed him up in sophisticated clothing, he would always resist authority and discipline.


    "One would think you are trying to get me drunk to put me at a disadvantage," he quipped. "I just found out what happened two nights ago; you''re not getting out of telling me everything before we fly home."


    My stomach twisted in embarrassment over what he was referencing; my face instantly heated with a deep blush. I forced a smile down towards the audience. "How did you find out?" I hissed.


    "Xavier posted a huge rant to his page."


    "You follow him? Why?" I grumbled. Jay had never met my boyfriend before¡ªif we were even still together. I had left Xavi standing alone at the illuminated gazebo¡ªone that he had spent all afternoon decorating with clear faery lights¡ªwith the dozen roses and ring in his hand. I boarded the plane to travel one thousand miles to Denver the next morning. The past few days had been so hectic with preparations that I had not spoken to the very person who was featured in many of my college memories. From an early age, Galileo, Vega''s true name, had stressed compartmentalizing my two different lives. I had gotten a little too good at it, almost as if the sweet girl from Vanderbilt University wasn''t the girl who had been developed as a vigilante agent since she was eight years old. Jay, however, relished in blurring the two identities.


    Finishing my routine on the hoop, I initiated the transition back to the aerial silks. I tumbled through the air. There was enough forward momentum that I was able to reach the aerial silks and quickly wrap my body up into them. I had security in a matter of milliseconds and started to perform the next segment of the routine. Jay, ignoring my objection, remained focused on what he wanted to know. "So how did he do it? Was it as pathetic as I imagine it being?"


    "Shadowfire. Spector." Galileo''s warning was evident in his tone as it came through on the coms. He had heard the entire conversation while he sat at a corner table in the Thirsty Lion, waiting for his associates to appear. Galileo had not been very forthcoming about who these associates were when he advised us during the briefing that he would play the part of decoy while I completed my assignment. He even turned down Jay''s offer of cover, declaring that there would be more danger in Union Station than at a mere meeting in a downtown restaurant.


    Jay pretended he hadn''t heard Galileo. "So how was it?" he pressed.


    As I flung myself backwards, letting my head hang down, and bending my legs to form a lowercase ¡®d¡¯, I caught movement on one of the third story balconies. The Crawford Hotel claimed the space; several of their rooms occupied the level. My body flowed through my routine off muscle memory, and my focus changed, forgetting all about Jay''s interrogation.


    A solitary man stood at the balcony. His stance was relaxed enough for him to rest his forearms against the railing. I was close enough to see that his stern face didn¡¯t reveal any emotion beyond boredom and mild contempt as he surveyed the great hall and the people down below with a frown. His short, but bushy, brunette salt and pepper curls surrounded his head with a bit of carelessness. He had failed to shave this morning if the blanket of stubble was any indication. He wasn''t handsome by any means, although the arrogance he was presenting made me wonder if he thought otherwise. I had met men who held vast amounts of power; he reminded me of those men.


    My gaze darted to the man''s fingers, which were curled around the railing. The silver ring with the sunburst pattern identified him as one of the targets. Soon, he and his companions would be sitting across from Galileo in the restaurant, leaving their hotel room strategically vacant.


    When his eyes flicked to mine, I was quick to turn my attention onto the audience and plaster a huge, fake smile on my face. The stranger''s scorn only increased as he stared at me twirling around the silk. He obviously didn''t have any appreciation for the arts and earned my own scorn. I quickly forgot these negative feelings when two men approached the other on the balcony. They too wore the sunburst rings Galileo had briefed us on. The first man straightened from his lean, pivoted, and joined his companions. As a group, they walked through the third-floor common area towards the elevators.


    "Quarries are on their way down," I muttered as I pulled myself upright.


    "About time. I was starting to wonder if they were comparing their dick sizes," Jay grumbled. I fought against rolling my eyes; Jay never appreciated the boredom that came with the more static mission assignments. He much preferred to be on the front lines.


    On the other end of the coms, Galileo sighed over Jay''s comment. "They are going to be on time," he defended.


    I entangled the silk around my waist before spinning downwards. I stopped a couple of times during the descent to perform a series of different poses. I timed my final descent with the emergence of the targets on the main floor. None of them carried a briefcase, and once again, I wondered about the meeting Galileo was about to have. Galileo had refused to provide me with any specifics.


    None of them glanced in my direction as they marched out of the hall. They didn''t even glance at Jay as they walked past him. We were inconsequential to them¡ªexactly as Galileo had wanted. "Quarries out and on their way to you, Vega," Jay announced.


    I freed myself from the silks and continued with the mat portion of my routine. This time, I did not need trapezes, silks, or hoops to catch me as I executed a series of quick cartwheels, backhanded spring back tucks, and double backs. Right as the song ended on its final note, I ended the floor routine with an airborne somersault and landed in a split. My arms stretched over my head in a flourish. I rose and sprung into a curtsy to the spectators'' roaring applause. The hall''s acoustics amplified their approval. My grin was more genuine this time. I sought my coach''s gaze. Olivia was standing at the forefront of the audience. With her confirming nod, I straightened from my curtsy and hurried over to her. She was ready to provide me with an ice-cold bottle of water.


    It remained a mystery how Galileo managed to get all the planets aligned to get Olivia to represent me at the out-of-state competition. The petite woman with a straight brunette bob had been my aerial coach and choreographer since Galileo had deposited me with a permanent live-in caretaker in Nashville when I was ten years old. Jay was placed in a similar situation in Phoenix. "I want you to have a normal life," Galileo told the ten-year-old me. "You can''t get that if you are in a new place every couple of days."


    What he really meant was that he wanted me to have a semblance of a normal life. At least once a month, sometimes more depending on what he needed, he would detach me from the life I had built to complete a mission elsewhere. On one occasion, I had been walking out of my SAT exams to find him waiting outside of the school with plane tickets to Florence, Italy. There was a self-proclaimed ¡®alchemist¡¯ who claimed to have solved the equation to eternal life through the creation of the elixir of immortality. It turned out to be a scam after Jay and I posed as peer reviewers and interrogated the man. I returned to Nashville after a couple of days with my SAT scores waiting in my email inbox.


    A trio of adolescent girls in lilac leotards and green sequined tutus ran out onto the mats and under the hanging equipment, which had been lowered for them. From the height of the equipment and their timidity, I could tell that the girls were beginners¡ªperhaps this was their first time performing. Some encouraging shouts and claps erupted from two adults on the other side of the audience circle. There was some hesitation and clumsiness as the girls pulled themselves up onto the equipment and waited for their performance music to start. Olivia gave me a nostalgic glance, as if she was remembering my first recital. I responded with a small smile.


    "So, while we''re waiting, you could start telling me all about your lovely proposal." Jay continued to press. I glanced over my shoulder in his direction. The press of the audience restricted my view of the rest of the hall. It seemed as if all the tall people had decided to fill in the space between Jay and me. With Olivia right beside me, my communication was limited to grunting.


    The girls'' music started. I recognized the piece as a mermaid one, which explained their costumes. They started to flow through their routine. The three young mermaids were adorable enough to capture the audience¡¯s attention. I shifted my weight and guzzled down the rest of the water, waiting. Then...


    "They just walked in," Galileo informed. "You¡¯re up, Shadowfire. I¡¯m going silent." There was not a beep or tone to confirm that Galileo had turned off his coms. Our communication with our advisor had been severed by his own hand.


    If this was something new, I would have been shocked. Galileo was the puppet master behind our missions. He always designed our missions and controlled which roles Jay and I were assigned. There was always a purpose behind these missions. Jay and I had concluded long ago that Galileo was working towards something specific. Whatever grand scheme Galileo was working towards, Jay and I trusted him and his intentions enough to go into the missions blindly.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    I shifted towards Olivia. "I''m going to run to the bathroom," I muttered near her ear. Olivia spared me a glance and a nod of acknowledgment before returning to evaluate the girls'' performance. She still coached the younger girls back home, and I knew she was mentally recording the parts of the mermaids'' choreography that inspired her.


    Jay was waiting for me to emerge from the crowd before he started to pester me with questions again. Out of habit, my gaze drifted to where he was posted. As bored as he was, he still had the discipline to remain at the position. Now, however, his back and foot were pressed against the wall. His thumb made repeated upward motions as he scrolled down his phone''s screen. He kept his head pointed towards the phone. I returned my focus to the wide arch separating the Crawford Hotel''s lobby from the public hall. "You said no. Why? Was his proposal not up to your standards? Did he not know that you wanted your dream proposal to be on a beach with turquoise water lapping around your ankles?" Jay snorted mockingly.


    "Maybe I''m just too fucked up in the head," I retorted cynically. I ditched the empty water bottle in a recycling bin and smiled towards one of the outlying audience members. I received a faint smile in return before she turned her eyes back to the ongoing performance. I captured the gazes of others walking through the great hall. It was difficult to remain inconspicuous in my outfit.


    "Okay, too serious of a question. We''ll get back to that one tonight."


    "What makes you think I''m going to tell you anything? It''s rather personal.¡±


    Jay snorted. "One, I''ve known you since you were eight. I should be your number one for everything, and thus your confidant. Two, vodka loosens your lips. You''ll be squealing every detail soon enough."


    Before I crossed over the threshold separating the hall from the hotel lobby, Jay and I briefly made eye contact when I was a couple of feet away. He looked back down at his phone, and I looked further into the lobby. Midmorning, it was rather empty. When our arms brushed, he was ready to pass the plastic card into my possession. My palm framed the card; I kept my arm straightened and down by my thigh as I briskly stormed the hotel¡¯s lobby without a shred of anxiety.


    I knew where I was going and veered to the right in the middle of the lobby towards the elevators. The hotel had two receptionists working the desk. Both were looking at a computer monitor. The one who was helping the other with some task glanced up as I came into his line of sight. Determining I was not a problem, he returned his focus to assisting his companion. The security guard manning the lobby didn''t even shift from his chair in the corner.


    "When did you suddenly become a gossip?"


    "When my friend had a man go down on his knee and declare he wanted to spend every day of his pathetic life with her! When my friend was not going to tell me anything."


    "He didn''t go down on his knee." I winced inwardly. My jab against the elevator button was a bit too forceful. Sometimes, I was unable to curtail my need to correct.


    "What? That boy needs some schooling on how to properly romanticize a woman!" Jay exclaimed, transforming his voice into one containing a mocking shock.


    "I''m so glad you find this amusing."


    The elevator dinged before its doors opened to reveal an empty lift and my reflection was captured in the mirror installed on the elevator''s back wall. I jabbed at the button listed as level three and waited. "Is that why you said no?" Jay pestered. "I wouldn''t blame you if it was.¡±


    "Skye never harasses me like this," I sighed, thinking of my first friend I had made in Nashville. She was friends with Xavier as well and placed in an awkward position after I rejected his proposal. I gazed at my reflection as the elevator ascended to the third floor. My costume was pure white and rather minimalistic. A silk leotard hugged my curves. A layer of lace fell over the silk and formed a skirt around my upper thighs. The hem was many different lengths, with the longest straps hanging in the back and sides. Tiny rhinestones decorated the lacy layer. Small silk straps held the dress up. Pieces of the lacy fabric were sewn on to drape over my shoulders while exposing the top. My dark hair had been secured in a bun and tiny rhinestone bobby pins were inserted for decoration. It revealed the slant of my neck and made-up face. As any nineteen-year-old would have done, I had outlined my eyes in black eyeliner to make them pop. The mirror reflected my purplish-blue gaze. My cheekbones were stark and prominent due to the combination of blush, highlighter, and exertion.


    "She probably cared too much about your feelings."


    "And you don''t?"


    "I know you''re strong enough to handle my interrogation," Jay responded. The elevator dinged, and its doors slowly parted to reveal the third-floor common area. It was empty. Over the balcony, I could hear the mermaid soundtrack echoing throughout the great hall. Feeling my nerves twist in my gut, my hand clutched the access key as I navigated the corridor. This was my only tell. I kept my pace even and face expressionless. I remained close to the inner wall as to evade further detection. Several different arteries branched from the main corridor; I continued walking until the last one and then veered to the right. The natural lighting from the great hall was unable to reach the smaller corridor. Shadows filled the space. "What about the ring?" Jay mused after a couple of moments of silence.


    "What about it?" I frowned.


    The target room was the last door on the left. I slid the access key into the slot and waited for the indicator light to switch from red to green. It took a second for the transformation to occur, a buzz accompanying it. I twisted the door handle and used my shoulder to push open the door. "Was it the reason you said no? Was it a pathetic one? You can tell me the truth. I won''t tell him!"


    "You''re following him on social media!" I walked into a small square foyer set up with an empty luggage rack. The door closed softly behind me. Careful to not make a sound¡ªor even breathe¡ªI used my angles as I sidestepped into the main room. It was easy enough to do barefoot. My eyes raced to identify any threats. My arms lifted mid-chest to protect my face if need be; my hands formed fists; my stance became bladed; my knees bended in preparation of throwing a roundhouse. I kept my body relaxed as I did another visual sweep of the room and its shadows. The men had left the living area''s curtains drawn, so the morning sunlight provided all the light I needed to see by.


    The suite was lavishly designed. A beige couch was pushed up against the wall. A square table large enough to hold a gathering of six was adjacent to the couch. A mirror hung over the couch and reflected a view of the first bedroom and parts of an adjacent marble bathroom. Both areas appeared to be vacant. I advanced to the master bedroom and hovered just outside of the doorway. Empty as well. "It''s clear, if you wanted to know," I advised Jay.


    "Good. Now about that ring," he persisted.


    My eyebrows shot up. "Xavi is getting his doctorate," I excused. The men had not made themselves at home. Besides a black leather bag on the wooden table, there was no other clutter. No one had unpacked their suitcases or left a jacket draped over a chair. The bed in the master bedroom didn¡¯t even look like it had been slept in, while the provided hygiene items were untouched. Scanning the space again, I was unable to find any suitcases.


    "Thank you. That tells me everything! Now, he didn''t kneel, the ring sucked¡ª"


    Before I could try to apply some logic to the lack of suitcases, my instincts alarmed. In an instant rush, adrenaline pulsed through my body. My peripheral vision caught movement in the mirror above the couch in the main sitting room. I had my arms up to cross-block the wooden staff from crashing down into my skull before my brain had fully interpreted what it had seen in the mirror¡¯s reflection.


    The staff collided with my forearm. Blunt pain radiated from the impact spot, and I knew I would have a bruise there later. Grunting and biting my lip, I was quick to reach around to grab the staff with both hands as my feet pivoted. My first glimpse of my attacker revealed a man about Jay¡¯s height with a protruding stomach. His eyes and facial expression reflected his surprise over my response, telling me he was exceedingly arrogant. He had thought I would go down with a couple of blows to the head.


    I yanked the staff backwards, and then aimed a kick towards his knee. The man grunted in pain but did not release the staff. I tried to sharply push it down at an angle. It was too late, as he was able to compile force on his own end and rip the staff out of my hands. He moved it so that it was horizontal against his upper chest and charged at me. My arms strained to push the staff away. I stumbled backwards against his charge and into the bedroom. I tripped backwards onto the bed. The man used his own weight to press me down against the mattress. The staff pressed down against my neck, immediately separating me from air. His breath warmed my cheek. Oddly, he smelled like stewed tomatoes.


    "What are you doing here?" he hissed. His face was so close I could see the specks of yellow in his brown irises. "Who are you?"


    Inside of my ear, Jay was alert. "What¡¯s going on, Shadowfire?" His interrogative banter had been replaced by a dangerous solemnness.


    I grimaced. "Stop being an alpha-fuckturd," I mumbled at Jay. The man above me blinked in distracted confusion, providing me with the perfect opening. I drove my hips upwards, kicked him off me, and ripped the staff out of his hands before he lost his footing and stumbled back. It was my turn to go on the offensive. He was already so off balance that he stumbled backwards and collided with the dresser from one powerful thrust of the staff. I was already swinging the staff, targeting his exposed core, and rapidly following with a strike to his calf. The man remained bent sideways and managed to shuffle away from the dresser. I was already moving, crouched down low and spinning. The staff became an extension of me. It collided with the man''s feet, tripping him. I jumped back as he went down with a thunderous bang. I felt the vibrations underneath my feet.


    He landed on his side. The positioning was not perfect. I lunged forward and using leverage, forced him onto his stomach. I wedged the staff underneath his neck before yanking up. The man started to gag and sputter. My eyes drifted up to the ceiling and waited for that moment when the man¡¯s body stopped fighting me and drifted into unconsciousness. It came a couple of seconds later.


    Wasting no time, I dismounted and scurried backwards to put enough distance between us. I watched him, waiting, observing. From the way he was evenly breathing, I didn¡¯t think he was resorting to tricks to gain the upper hand. He was truly unconscious. Still, I couldn''t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, that another presence was in the room. Yet, no one else attacked from the shadows. The floorboards were silent, the sunlight filtering in through the windows was undisturbed in both rooms. Beyond the man''s nasally breathing, the entire suite was quiet. The paranoia had to be in my mind. I slowly lowered the staff to my side.


    "Done beating the poor soul who came across you?" Jay¡¯s voice was laced with sardonicism.


    "The fool came at me with a staff," I responded.


    "Fool." Jay snorted in agreement. "That was the worst choice he could have made."


    "I thought Vega said there were supposed to be only three of them. Three went to the meeting, right?" I kept the staff tucked underneath my arm as I went to the table in the main room. It was the only place in the suite where the men had placed any personal belongings. I pulled the bag towards me.


    "Smart on their part, though. Leaving a fourth behind," Jay critiqued. "It goes to show that whoever they are, they don''t trust Vega."


    I felt around the exterior of the bag. I didn¡¯t feel anything sharp or dangerous, so I put my hand into it. At the bottom of the pack, there was a drawstring leather pouch mixed with a bunch of papers. I pulled it out and discarded the bag. The pouch was slightly bigger than the palm of my hand, and there was a weight to it. I felt a flare of relief and satisfaction. This had to be it, this had to be the objective of the mission.


    When Galileo had briefed Jay and me the night before and explained that the objective of this mission would be to steal a compass, Jay had snorted with disdain. "Why can¡¯t you go and buy one at the store? Do you need a dollar?" Galileo looked like he would slap Jay across the head. Instead, he chose the more serene path and told us he desired a specific compass. Galileo never acted like money was tight¡ªhe never seemed to look at the bill for anything¡ªand everything we needed, he was able to purchase without blinking an eye at the cost. If he wanted an expensive compass that still navigated to true north and included different technological features, he could have bought himself one. He couldn¡¯t have wanted the compass for nostalgic reasons, as Galileo was not extremely materialistic or sentimental.


    Presently holding the compass in my hands, I now understood why Galileo¡¯s heart was set on this one. I had to hold it with both hands; the weight was beyond reasonable for such an instrument meant to guide wanderers. The framing consisted of white gold. The gold navigational star was plotted in a small center circle on the compass''s face. A diamond had been inserted in the center of the star. One mercury needle was improperly positioned over the western arrow, failing to point to true north. Galileo would have to get the compass recalibrated if he wanted to use it. However, perplexed, I counted four more needles of various lengths.


    The compass''s face displayed a snapshot of stars against a deep violet backdrop. There were twelve triangular inlays on the outer edges of the compass''s frame, with the points directed towards the navigational star. Different gemstones were seated in twelve inlays running around the compass¡¯s circumference. I recognized amethyst, ruby, and turquoise amongst the different gems used. There was a divot at the top of the compass. It appeared as if it had hosted a thirteenth jewel, which was missing now. Each gemstone was paired with a mysterious symbol that had been etched into the framing. There were five dials installed along the sides. A chain of the same white gold the compass had been crafted from hung from the instrument¡¯s top and dangled over the edge of my hand.


    As my fingers hovered over one of the dials, I was tempted to twist it. My hesitation prevented me from giving into the temptation. I was hit with an overwhelming sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, as if I had seen this instrument before. It was an instinct deep inside of my body, even though my rational thought protested due to the lack of memory. Studying the compass¡¯s face, I racked my mind for an inkling of memory to make sense of the feeling. I struggled to find the two neurons to link together to provide me with the answers I needed. There was nothing.


    Already on edge, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Galileo¡¯s panicked voice erupted against my eardrum. "Shadowfire, Spector. Get out of there now. Abort the mission. Rendezvous at the Platte and Blake." The panic in his voice was alarming and unusual. Galileo could control his emotions. He went through our briefings with an air of indifference. Something had gone terribly wrong.


    "Shadowfire is still in there," Jay protested.


    "Shadowfire, get out of there now." Galileo barked.


    "What if she hasn¡¯t found the target?" Jay fired quickly in return.


    "It doesn¡¯t matter. They know. They are coming back right now. Shadowfire, get out there! Forget about the compass!"


    "How do they know?"


    "That is beside the point!" Galileo snapped, exasperated.


    I shoved the compass back into its leather pouch and left the hotel suite in haste. I was out of the hotel room in less than ten seconds and rushing down the hallway. With my blood flowing through my veins as quickly as it was, I didn''t have the patience to take the elevator. I wanted control of my movements, so I took the staircase. "I¡¯m out," I informed Galileo and Jay breathlessly. "I¡¯m taking the stairs."


    "She ran into another man in the hotel room," Jay informed Galileo. It sounded like he was walking quickly.


    "Another?" The shock in Galileo''s voice was prominent. He was breathless from his own pace.


    "She took care of him."


    "I don''t doubt it, but..."


    The bottom of the staircase shot out into one of the hallways jetting from the main hall, right next to a set of public restrooms. I forced myself to slow down into a leisurely walk as I merged onto the hallway. There was a long line of females waiting to get into the female facilities, while the males were entering and exiting theirs with ease. I kept my gaze pointed towards the ground as I walked out towards the great hall, only lifting my eyes whenever I had to navigate. I didn''t dare to make eye contact with anyone else in the hall. My grip was tight around the compass, which I partly hid from sight by keeping it by my thigh. Due to my stature, I was able to dodge and sidestep the people who lingered in my path. It was pedestrian chaos in that hallway, and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief when I had reached the great hall.


    Jay was waiting right next to the hallway¡¯s intersection with the great hall. He fell in step with me. There was a wide aisle that was void of pedestrian traffic and led to the opposite side of the hall. I did not deviate from this path. Pew formations and long tables bordered both sides of the aisle. A handful of people were slouched against the pews, while there were people working on their tablets at the broad tables, coffee cups within reach. Up ahead and to my left, the aerial performances continued. A couple was swinging around on the trapeze together in a routine set to what sounded like Beethoven. The audience was still immense, and I couldn''t see Olivia standing in one of the inner circles where I had left her, blissfully arrogant as to what I was really doing here.


    "So, what happens now?" Jay inquired casually, keeping up with the pace I had set.


    I threw him a frown. "What do you mean?" There were people patronizing the hall¡¯s craft brewery, socializing over a couple of beers. A long line waited at the coffee shop. Tourists were turning slowly in circles, snapping pictures at everything that enchanted them. Two sets of professional photographers were capturing the essence and beauty of fresh love with their respective couples.


    "Between you and Xavier?"


    My gaze flickered upwards in exasperation. "I really don''t know."


    "Are you two together still?"


    "I''m not sure. There hasn''t been time to hash everything out, has there? But probably not. You can''t really come back from that type of rejection."


    Jay and I had made it halfway across the hall when I saw Galileo dart into the building, interrupt the cafe line, and rapidly search the hall. I had never seen his facial features as tight as they were right at that moment. Catching sight of us together, Galileo stopped right at the end of the aisle, waiting for us. I saw his eyes shift from Jay, to me, and then to something over my shoulder. Whatever it was, it held his gaze. Relief had flourished in his eyes right when he saw Jay and I were together, both of us alive. However, that relief instantly transformed into horror and disbelief at whatever he saw over my shoulder. My mouth suddenly became parched, while my heart returned to thumping against its confines. I moved to look over my shoulder. My feet got tangled, and I started to trip. Jay¡¯s hand shot out to help stabilize me. He gripped my upper arm hard enough to leave a bruise until I found my balance again. The compass almost fell out of my grip. I tightened my hold around it, readjusting my fingers to new spots due to the perspiration on the leather.


    I took one step forward in the effort to regain my balance. As soon as my foot touched the ground, and the other foot started to swing forward, I felt a chill rush through my body. It started in my core and then radiated outwards towards my extremities until my fingers were suddenly frozen. The chill stole my ability to breathe. Seconds, that was all it took for my mind to start separating from my body and the brutal chill. Ripping pain erupted around my right shoulder blade.


    Then there was nothing but darkness.

 TWO

    Terrified screams and cries filled the air. An iron scent infiltrated my nose. The taste of ash lingered in my mouth. My skin was prickling like it had a blanket of electricity over it¡ªas if I had transformed into a lightning bolt. My heartbeat was slamming against my chest, and I could feel sweat condensing on my palms and streaking down my face. I couldn''t feel the ground underneath my feet, and it felt as if I was levitating, frozen and hollow. Blinking, I realized I was standing in a train terminal.


    My memories slowly drifted back as the fog in my brain dissipated. I remembered where I was and my purpose for being there. I remembered Jay and I had been leaving Denver¡¯s Union Station to rendezvous with Galileo at where Blake Street intersected with the city¡¯s river. My hand still clutched the compass, which I had been assigned to retrieve. Union Station¡¯s great hall had been hustling with a variety of activities and people meeting to socialize on the late Saturday morning. An aerial dance competition, which I had been a part of, had commandeered a section of the hall. It had generated a large spectator crowd that encircled the aerial equipment and mats. Laughter, the hum of many different conversations, continuous scraping of suitcase wheels against the tiled floor, and performance music had competed for dominance in the air over the hall.


    In a matter of mere milliseconds, this had all changed.


    What had once been a cheerful Saturday morning at Union Station had transformed into one of nightmares. My peripheral vision caught people fleeing out of the entrances. Turning my full attention on them, they all had their upper bodies protectively folded over and their arms guarding the back of their heads as they scurried out. At another entrance, I caught a girl in a white springtime maxi dress crawling out of an overturned table¡¯s protection and hurrying towards the back exit on her hands and knees. The back of her dress was stained by a large splatter of red. She vanished out into the sunshine¡¯s glare.


    I was the only person standing in the middle of the hall. Everyone else had collapsed. The people who had been in proximity to me only seconds ago were now motionless, lifeless, on the ground. Some had red puddles radiating from where their bodies had fallen against the tile. One had shades of red staining her blonde hair. There were people draped over the top of pews. Another was slumped over his laptop¡¯s keyboard. Beyond them, splatters of red marred every type of surface. I saw red patterns on the floor, walls, and pews. Above my head, I saw the male half of the aerial couple draped over the trapeze bar, as if he was nothing more than a discarded jacket. Little droplets of blood dripped downwards from his skull; the droplets had started to accumulate enough that a puddle was forming on the ground far beneath him. The audience had collapsed on each other to form one large pile of bodies. Although I could hear distorted screaming coming from outside of the building, it became deathly and eerily quiet in the hall as I became the only conscious person inside. Everyone else¡ªwho could¡ªhad fled.


    Small fires had erupted throughout the great hall. Two of the grand pillars had fallen; one of them had crashed through a row of pews. Both the north wall and a section of the roof had gaping holes. Dusty sunshine filtered through the cracks. Even the floor hadn¡¯t escaped destruction: several cracks radiated from where I was standing. Puddles of water formed in destruction-created craters.


    Ashes were slowly falling from the sky. The hole in the ceiling was large enough that a substantial amount of imposter snowflakes were entering the building. A small feeling of awe penetrated the hollowness within me. I lifted my palm and watched the ashes fall between my fingers. Some landed on my palm. Unlike snowflakes, they did not melt.


    I looked up to focus on what was directly before me. I saw a body sprawled across the end of the aisle. He was facedown, his face hidden by the positioning of his outstretched arm. I recognized him from his clothing. My breath got trapped in my throat. For seconds, I was frozen, disbelieving. Then my body reacted, and I was darting down the aisle to where he laid. I fell to my knees a couple of feet away from him and lurched for him. My hands scrambled for purchase on his body, trying to find enough grip to push him over. With a heave, I was able to flip him onto his back. A river of dried blood started at his nose and mouth and traveled to the slope of his chin. The dark stain was a stark contrast to his pale skin. It was a rare sight to see Galileo''s face so peaceful; he always had an air of calculation about him. There was a lack of air passing through the small gap between his lips. Nor was his chest rising. His gaze featured a blank, thousand-yard stare. His core still felt warm, but when I picked up his hand, it was freezing cold and limp.


    A half sob escaped my throat.


    "Bria."


    I turned to look over my shoulder. Jay was standing there with his lips formed in a grim frown as he stared down at Galileo¡¯s corpse. He looked as if he had walked through the ninth circle of hell and somehow survived. Fresh blood surrounded an injury on the side of his temple. He too had stripes of dried blood painting his pale face. It drenched parts of his hair. His hat was missing.


    Jay¡¯s throat and mouth quivered at the sight, and he quickly shifted his eyes to meet mine. His expression hardened. A thousand words passed between us in that stare. They were unspoken words of unrealized fear.


    I was the first to break the stare. The feeling of Galileo¡¯s body underneath my hands returned my gaze to him. In the distance, I could hear a melody of emergency sirens. They grew louder with each shrill shriek.


    Jay gripped my shoulder hard in command. My fingers clenched Galileo''s shirt in refusal. Jay crouched, seized control of my arm, and started to straighten. "Come on, Bria. He¡¯s dead. We need to go. Now." Jay¡¯s tone was resolute, final. I tried to pull away from his grip and towards Galileo as if covering his body with mine would miraculously revive him. Another sob leaked out of my throat. "Bria, we can''t be caught," Jay reminded in a hiss. When he pulled upwards on my arm this time, I didn¡¯t resist. I couldn¡¯t. I understood his fear too much: we were the only two surviving souls in this graveyard, this living nightmare. The stress from the approaching sirens agitated our fear further¡ªwe had been trained to avoid the authorities. With one last mournful gaze and accompanying sob over Galileo, I allowed Jay to lift me to my feet. I stopped to grab the compass before Jay rushed me out of the hall.


    The sunshine blinded me as we stumbled across the threshold. I wanted to slow down to put my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Jay gripped my arm harder, almost bruising bones, and hurried us across the street. The sirens were getting louder, closer. There wasn¡¯t anyone directly outside of Union Station. Everyone had evacuated to distant sidewalks. My vision reflected the swarm as blurs. Distress hovered over them; some had collapsed to their knees. Embraces were freely given. Others attempted to aid the injured who had managed to get away. Desperate, hysterical wailing competed with the sirens. Both echoed in between the skyscrapers.


    The ashes were more prominent out in the open sky than when I was inside. They were lightly coating the sidewalk and street. Their lifeless hue overwhelmed the vividness of Jay''s blonde hair. I turned my head upwards in numbed bewilderment. The ashes were invisible until they were a few feet above me. The blue sky reigned over the city. The massacre fires hadn''t spread, and there wasn¡¯t any wind. I blinked up at the sky, trying to make sense of the ashes. They remained a mystery.


    When we had crossed the street, I wanted to stop, feeling we had evacuated far enough away. My grief, confusion, and lethargy were too overwhelming. If Jay had not been tugging on my arm, I would have collapsed on the sidewalk near the other victims. As it was, his fingers dug into the back of my arm and pressed forward. At times, the pressure was almost too much to bear. I gritted my teeth, stumbled forward, and complied because it was a distraction from the chaos in my thoughts, from the lurking fear and suspicion hovering in the shadows.


    The hotel Galileo had chosen as our home for this assignment was only yards away from Union Station on the intersecting street. It was a simple dart down Seventeenth for us to arrive at the hotel¡¯s lobby. With the same intensity he had tugged on my arm, Jay pushed through the entrance doors. One crashed against the wall with a loud slam. Jay didn¡¯t spare a glance towards the reception desk, and instead immediately turned towards the elevators. I was able to catch the receptionist¡¯s gaping stare before Jay pushed me into the elevator. Jay¡¯s grip on my arm tightened during the elevator ride up to our suite. He was silent and kept his erect body pointed towards the elevator doors. He didn¡¯t let go of my arm until we were within the confines of the hotel suite.


    Jay left me standing in the foyer alone and charged into the master bedroom. Numb, I placed the compass on the side table where Galileo had left his leather bag. There was a strain around my heart, as if my grief had it in a vise grip, especially when I realized Galileo would never pick up that leather bag again, never page through all the notebooks that were in there, searching for one specific thing. My mother had started the notebooks to record all her investigation notes, and it was a tradition that Galileo continued. I felt lightheaded. Afraid of collapsing right there, I rushed into the master bedroom.


    Jay looked up when I entered. Behind him, the bathroom¡¯s light was on, and I could hear the hum of the shower. Jay shook out the trash bag from the bathroom¡¯s trashcan and handed it to me. "Put your clothes in there," he ordered gruffly. I barely nodded as he walked out of the bedroom.


    "What about you?" I croaked. "You¡¯re hurt."


    "You are too. Get cleaned up. I¡¯ll be out here with the first aid kit when you¡¯re ready."


    Jay¡¯s last comment made more sense when I started to remove my dress. The right side of my back protested with pain. I used the mirror to inspect the area and was shocked to see a bloody circular area around my shoulder blade. It reminded me of the bullet exit wounds I had seen during my college coursework. Concerned, I examined my collarbone area with my eyes and prodded with my fingers. Except for a little soot and blood spatter from someone else, the skin was unblemished. Sharp shooting pain erupted through the wound when I lightly pressed down on it. It was deep enough that it would need stitches, though it was doubtful Jay and I would leave the hotel room. At least for the night. The world out there was too uncertain. I didn''t even know what had happened.


    The threat of collapsing again hovered over me. I must keep moving, I realized. I quickly scrambled out of my clothes and threw them in the trash bag. The back of my dress was drenched in blood. My fingers were stained with red. With trembling fingers, I started to remove the bobby pins holding my braided bun in place. They clattered down on the vanity. My hair fell past my shoulders in bushy waves. A layer of ash had already coated my hair and releasing my hair of its bun disturbed the settled ashes. They drifted to the ground around my feet. Soot and more blood spatter dirtied my face, smearing the makeup I had carefully applied this morning. I had seen hollowed, worn-out young adults on the trains in Berlin in the morning after they had been out all night on a bender; I looked worse than they did. I seized one of my makeup wipes and attacked the blood on my face. With forceful swipes, the blood came away from my skin.


    Once my face was clean, I stepped into the shower, which was scorching hot. I lingered, watching the water flood around the drain. It was tinged with red. Ashes stuck to the floor. The shower''s glass partition started to fog.


    Dread kept me in the shower longer than necessary. It was a shadow hovering just out of sight. Something horrible, something despicable had occurred at Union Station. It was something I had no recollection of. I shut my eyes and turned my face up to the shower''s waterfall spray, repeatedly replaying that moment before everything had altered, trying to gain an understanding from it, trying to piece together the inconsistency of my memory. No matter how many times I replayed those few moments over and over, the answers I sought were elusive.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    My rational mind wanted to place the blame of the slaughter on the men we had stolen from. They had learned that the compass was gone, and in retaliation, had taken the lives of innocents. It was rationality wrapped up in a pretty box with a flamboyant bow; had it not been for that dread that was settling deep in my core, I would have believed it.


    When I emerged from the shower, I wrapped a towel around me. Jay was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the floor. The first aid supplies were arrayed on the mattress next to him. Jay patted the section of the bed before him, and I sat down. I gathered my hair and pulled it to one side to give Jay access to my right shoulder blade. He worked in silence as he cleaned the area before flattening some gauze on it and taping a makeshift bandage around it. Still not saying a word, Jay stood up and went to the bathroom to shower himself. Weakened, numbed, I fell backwards onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. My mind rushed to analyze the slaughter once more.


    The rest of the evening was unusual for Jay and me. A fog hovered over us, and our actions were more out of necessity and survival than desire. After I had cleaned Jay¡¯s wound when he finished his shower, we remained on the master bed, anointing it as our unofficial sanctuary from the madness that was occurring out in the world. Changing into clothes required more energy than I had at the moment; the bed¡¯s blankets offered all the warmth and concealment I needed.


    Jay turned on the television to provide an escape and remove the deafening silence. The first images that popped up on the screen were of Union Station and the sobbing crowds around its perimeter. Jay promptly turned the channel, a grimace darkening his expression. Several other channels were reporting the news on the slaughter. He eventually found a channel that was featuring a movie. It was just background noise to my chaotic thoughts.


    There was a distinct moment later in the night where Jay stopped by the hall table. He paused to stare at the compass and Galileo¡¯s bag. A tremor radiated down his spine. His jaw locked. Somehow, I found enough energy to force myself out of the bed, wrap a sheet around me, and approach him. His face remained rigid. His eyes were fighting the sorrow threatening to overwhelm him. I found his hand and threaded my fingers through his. Afraid of his flood of emotion, I turned to look at the compass and bag, too. "It wasn¡¯t worth losing Galileo," I choked. When Jay didn''t say anything, I went on to say, "If the Angel of Destiny came to me right now, I would trade Galileo for the compass."


    "The Angel of Destiny doesn¡¯t exist," Jay snapped.


    I sucked in a deep breath. I squeezed Jay¡¯s hand, seeking comfort. He didn''t return the gesture. It was like there was a stone wall between us. I tried another angle. "Why do you think Galileo wanted it?"


    Jay¡¯s response was a shrug.


    "What do you think we do now?" My words wavered as all my strength faded. My shoulders quivered. Grief had ensnared my heart, and I could physically feel it strangling me. My thoughts were chaotic as I sought answers regarding my future. Did I return to Nashville, back to my life there? Without Galileo, I couldn''t see it being interrupted by missions anymore. Or should I take up Galileo''s investigation? All his notes¡ªand my mother¡¯s¡ªwere in Galileo''s bag.


    I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn''t realize Jay had turned around until his arms wrapped around me and pulled me into his body. I nestled my head against his chest. He was taller than me and his body shielded me against the rest of the world. I was too comfortable against him; I was drifting off to sleep, swaying on my feet. I was so exhausted.


    "Do you love him?"


    I blinked. Jay''s question caught me off guard. I looked up at him. His gaze was intense as he stared down at me. Something altered between us in that moment. We had been aware of that line, but it had been something we had never tried to explore. For years, we had tiptoed around it, afraid crossing it would lead to chaos we weren''t prepared to handle. We had grown up together, we had trained together, and we had faced harrowing situations together for over a decade. We flirted with attraction without ever acting on it¡ªnever under Galileo''s encompassing shadow. Yet now... I was seeking comfort, and this was one of the only ways Jay knew how to provide it. The question formed in his eyes. The answer in mine. "Who?" I murmured, genuinely confused.


    "You asked me what we do now," Jay reminded in a whisper. I did? His hand slowly rose to tuck a strand of my errant hair behind my ear. He stared at it before he spoke again. "We don¡¯t think."


    He pushed me towards the bed and once my legs collided with the edge, I sunk down on the mattress. He yanked at my bedsheet with a small burst of mischievousness in his eyes¡ªall that he could muster for the moment. I allowed it to fall around my hips. His hands gently settled on my waist as his body forced my legs open. He bent down to press his lips against mine¡ªthey were tender, questioning. I reconfirmed my answer by nipping at his bottom lip. Jay''s hands tightened on my waist as he released a breathless, bitter laugh. We fell backwards onto the bed, with him on top of me, our legs entangling off the side of the bed.


    For a few magical moments, we sought escape in each other.


    * * *


    I was jolted awake out of a deep sleep. My eyes were wide against the unknown threat. My pulse was high. Shadows surrounded the unfamiliar space. Every set of shadows could be concealing a threat. I hardly dared to breathe. There was enough light coming in through the window that I could see the shapes of the furniture throughout the room. My vision slowly adjusted to the darkness. The shadows¡ªand their lack of lurking monsters¡ªbecame less dense.


    The culprit behind waking me up was revealed when my peripheral vision caught the reflection of flickering blue and red lights repeatedly bouncing off the windowpane. A glance at my cell phone informed me it was three-thirty in the morning. Frowning, I allowed myself to be pulled out of the bed by my curiosity. I crept to the window and held the curtains further back. Through the bouncing red and blue lights ricocheting off the buildings along Wynkoop Street, I could see that the street below was empty except for two cop cars. One had its bar lights running in sequential order on a loop. The other had chosen to sit in darkness in front of Union Station. I couldn''t see anyone moving outside or within the vehicles. The street remained empty of pedestrian traffic; yellow tape prevented access inside of the iconic building.


    For a brief gruesome moment, I wondered if the bodies were still inside the building¡ªif Galileo¡¯s corpse was still amongst the others. I wondered how many there were, and then how Jay and I had survived the massacre with minimal injuries. I wondered who the men Galileo had stolen from were. He had never alluded that this mission was more dangerous than the others. Those men were deranged if they went on a murderous rampage killing innocents over one compass. What would they do next if they didn''t get the compass back?


    Doubt appeared in my core as I held onto my rational conclusions. I pushed the suspicion away, not daring to examine it.


    After surveilling the quiet street for a couple of minutes, I dropped the curtain and retreated to the bed. The fatigue I had felt after the massacre still lingered, and there was an ache radiating near my shoulder blade. I sat cross-legged next to Jay, who was snoring softly. His bare back was towards me as he laid on his side. Hours ago, I had pressed my fingertips into those muscles, bracing against his thrusting. I still felt the phantom smooth silkiness of his skin and his heated breath against my neck. I remembered the way he had grunted as he had reached that threshold and his climax overwhelmed him. It was enough of a distraction and physical exertion that we both fell asleep soon afterwards. I averted my gaze from where he was laying. Instead, I grabbed my cell phone and stared at the screen. I had several text notifications: one from Skye, one from Xavier''s sister, Sam, and one from Xavier himself. Xavier¡¯s message was at the top. He had sent it earlier this evening. Sighing, I skimmed his message.


    Bria, I''m so confused about everything. I''m angry, yes, but I think we need to sit down & discuss this when you get back from your competition. I really think we can salvage this, salvage us. I admit it was a bit early for me to offer marriage. You''re only nineteen! What was I thinking? Ha! But... Coffee at Killebrew when you get back?


    I simply powered off my screen and sat my phone down, screen down.


    I had forgotten about Xavier in the trauma of Galileo¡¯s death. Now, his southern Hispanic charm and good looks haunted me, adding more guilt on top of the grief that had settled in my core. I had left Nashville believing we were over from the way Xavier had raged at the gazebo, tearing down the lights he had carefully put up and knocking down the vases of roses he had arranged earlier in the afternoon. I didn''t think our relationship could survive that type of rejection. Apparently, after a couple of days, Xavier had other thoughts.


    I did not regret having sex with Jay¡ªnot entirely. I wanted comfort, and he needed something¡ªperhaps a distraction. We had turned to each other for those things. He was four years older than I was and had always been a bit wild. He had a way that made an introverted teen like me lower her timid walls. He was one of the people I was the most comfortable around, and one of the only people who had heard me snort while laughing. While there had been some flirtatious teasing exchanges between us when we were together, I never saw anything progressing to the extent that it had tonight. Galileo kept us separated whenever we weren''t on assignment: Jay had his life in Phoenix, and I had mine in Nashville. Long distance communication was prohibited.


    My flight back to Nashville was this afternoon. I still hadn''t decided if I was going to be on it or not. We had the compass, and I feared that the men I stole it from were still around. Yet, where would we go? Would we attempt to get some direction from Galileo¡¯s notes in that bag in the other room? What had been the purpose behind all those missions? How would Jay and I survive, the last two remaining out of our makeshift family, which had started off with four?


    I was pondering these questions when I heard two ear-shattering bangs that had my ears ringing. The first one appeared to be as if some device was used to tear down the hotel room¡¯s door; the second was a noise diversion. I tried to make myself as small as possible, bringing my knees to my chest and my chin to my knees. My hands slapped over my ears to help with the extreme noise. Next to me, Jay was startled awake and pushing himself up onto his forearms just as people flooded into the room. Their tactical movements revealed that this was not a random burglary. My vision had adapted to the darkness enough to see bulky forms, five in all, spread out across the bedroom. Every one of them had their rifles set on us. I had the immediate fear that Jay and I would be shot dead in the bed we had just been intimate in.


    Jay sat up, enraged. "What the hell is going on!" he demanded just as the noise diversion faded.


    It was simultaneous with the barking shout of, "Stay on the bed! Hands up on your head and don¡¯t you fucking move!"


    No one got away with giving Jay orders. He had too much of a rebellious spirit that apparently got him in trouble more than once before Galileo took him in when he was twelve. Jay stared daringly at the men in the room and started to shift off the bed anyway.


    "Do you fucking want to get shot! Stay on the bed!" Tension was laced in the voice.


    "Jay!" I hissed. My hands were already on my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jay¡¯s hands reluctantly move to his head.


    A shout came from the other room. "Clear!" Footsteps hurried towards the bedroom. Two men entered, and one of them turned on the lights. With the illumination, I was able to see them clearly. All seven men were wearing black from top to bottom. Tactical helmets, long-sleeved shirts, and vests with ¡®SWAT¡¯ in white print boldly running across their upper chests, thigh holsters with more firearms and less-lethal weapons added to the severity of the situation. Shocked, I gaped at them.


    "You!" The officer pointed at me. "Keeping your hands on your head, get off the bed."


    Trembling, I slid off the bed. The sheet I had been using to cover up remained on the bed. I was too frightened to reach for it. Too many rifles were pointed at me as if I was dangerous. On shaky legs, I stood. Jay exploded, "What are you doing? You can''t do this! She''s naked!"


    "Shut up!" one of the other officers warned Jay as the other one ordered me to turn around and walk backwards towards them.


    My eyes darted to Jay. His face was flushed from rage. I begged him with my gaze to not do anything rash. He ignored me. What the hell is going on? You can¡¯t just rush into our room and take her when she did nothing wrong! We have rights! She did absolutely nothing, you perverts! Bria! Resist! Run away! Don¡¯t you stop resisting, don¡¯t you dare! You¡¯re better than them¡ª"


    Jay would have continued if he had a chance. Instead, his face was flattened against the mattress as one of the newer officers tackled him, sandwiching Jay between him and the bed. This enraged Jay more. He squirmed underneath the officer, his limbs striking the officer''s body. Another officer flung his rifle behind him and assisted in controlling Jay. Jay didn¡¯t stand a chance between them. In a few skillful maneuvers, they had Jay on his stomach and his arms behind his back.


    Behind me, the officer giving me orders told me to stop and kneel. I crossed my legs when I was ordered to. My emotion was bubbling to the surface, and I choked on the first sob seeking a way out. I resisted the desire to fight when I felt a hand against my own. His hand pulled one of my hands down from my head and held it as the cold bite of steel clipped and secured around my wrist. The second part of the handcuff encircled my second wrist. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep the sobs internal, though I felt my body vibrate from its containment. I met Jay¡¯s gaze again. The two officers were still pressing him against the bed with their weight. Mixed in with his rage was sadness. Desperation. Fear. Acceptance.


    "Can someone find me a shirt?" The officer behind me requested. Moments later, a shirt¡ªone of Jay¡¯s¡ªcame down over my head, momentarily blinding me. Jay was a giant compared to me, so when I was escorted to a standing position, the hem of his shirt brushed against my upper thighs. Two officers took possession of my arms. One of them ordered me to walk out of the room. With one last look at Jay, I barely did. My legs were shaking so much, I relied on the escorting officers to keep upright.


    I didn''t even know why I had been arrested, much less in such an extreme manner.

 THREE

    The ride in the police car was silent apart from the police radio. In the time it took to get from the hotel to the police department¡¯s headquarters, there were officers checking on a business alarm, responding to a possible domestic violence fight, and then arresting someone on a warrant. The transporting officer didn''t try to communicate with me; he remained focused on driving. He was serious about using his turn signal, and I heard its clicks more often than I heard the radio. At four o¡¯clock in the morning, it was too dark to see the officer¡¯s face, to try to gather information from him about my situation. The glass separating us made it seem like we were miles apart, so I didn''t even try to ask the officer questions. No one had told me what was happening. After escorting me out of the hotel, the SWAT officers had placed me in the officer¡¯s car and shut the door to my freedom. The bars on the windows amplified that feeling.


    It was uncomfortable in the back of the patrol vehicle. The seat was hard plastic and pressed the handcuffs further into my wrists. Nonetheless, I tried to not squirm. I was uncertain of who had occupied the seat before me, whether he had exposed abscesses or vomited all over it. My legs were bare, and the officers had not given me an opportunity to put on underwear. They had treated Jay and me like we were violent psychopaths who posed a threat to them. It was rather ridiculous. They were all burly men. Galileo had trained us to defend ourselves well, though even he could not teach us how to come out with a victory against seven people with rifles. Besides, he had also taught us to be sensible.


    Physically, Jay was the bigger threat than I was. Over six feet tall, he had an American football cornerback¡¯s body. Myself, I had never developed bulk. My gymnastics and aerial dancing had kept me limber and thin. The top of my head could barely reach the five-foot-three mark. Had I not been in the back of a patrol car, I would have laughed over the fact that a SWAT team had been sent to retrieve Jay and me.


    After a short drive, we arrived at the police headquarters without incident. The car idled as the entrance gate opened with the prompting of the officer¡¯s access card. He pulled into a secured parking lot filled with other police vehicles and different cars. Some of them had yellow tape wrapped around their bodies, marking them as evidence. The officer pulled into the parking space nearest to the building.


    Just outside of the entrance doors, two people¡ªa man and a woman¡ªstood waiting for our arrival. They were in slacks and polos. Their belts featured badges and holstered firearms. The female¡¯s dark brown hair was down and brushed her shoulders. In the light provided by the exterior lighting, I could see that she was of Hispanic ethnicity. The male was tall and lanky with an unruly beard.


    It was the female who opened my door, and with a light tone, directed, "Let¡¯s get you out of there. It can be a bit cramped." Compliantly, but awkwardly, I got out of the vehicle. The female was ready to grab my elbow to help stabilize me. I caught the concerned look she sent the patrol officer.


    "She and the other one were found naked in bed," he explained. "Kowalski is supposed to be coming by with something more appropriate for her."


    The female gave a nod, her facial expression remaining impassive. "Let¡¯s get inside."


    I was escorted to a small square room on the third floor. The room contained three chairs and a round table. After the female investigator patted me down, she removed the handcuffs and instructed me to sit in the lone chair furthest from the door. Compliant, I did as she instructed. I expected the questioning to start immediately. However, it didn¡¯t, and I was left alone in the room¡ªwhich was barren.


    I was quickly aware of a camera installed in the front corner of the room. A computer-printed sign taped to the barren wall was quick to inform me that the room was being monitored through auditory and visual means. An officer was stationed outside in the hallway. He was not directly in my line of sight, though if I twisted to the left and leaned forward a bit, I could see him seated just outside my door with a black laptop on his lap. I knew I was not free to refuse all questioning and walk out of the building.


    As I waited, my concern over being in trouble dissipated. The female investigator returned to the room with a small stack of my clothing and a pair of shoes. Being in my own clothing made me feel less overwhelmed.


    After I had changed, the female investigator returned with a glass of water. She sat it before me and said, "I¡¯m Victoria. I¡¯m an investigator with the Denver Police Department. We¡¯ll be starting soon, but if you need anything until then just ask for me, okay? Even if it is just to use the restroom." I nodded, barely able to swallow past the constriction in my throat. I felt a bit of hope. If they got me clothing, removed my restraints, and brought me water, I couldn¡¯t be in too much trouble. Perhaps they wanted to question me as a witness.


    There was not a clock in the room, so I was not aware of how long I waited. I tried to keep my fidgeting to the minimum, aware I was being monitored and analyzed. I strained my ears to hear conversations occurring outside of the room. Although there were a couple, the investigators were careful and spoke too softly. I couldn''t decipher their hums. The waiting and anticipation were the worse parts during this time. Several times, people walked past my door as blurs of movement. Every time it happened, my heartbeat skipped. They were false alarms, and I would soon drop back into boredom.


    I didn''t realize Jay was in the same hallway, probably just a couple of rooms down, until I heard him yelling. "I refuse to talk to anyone about anything! There¡¯s no way! Bria! Don¡¯t talk to them! Don¡¯t you dare say anything¡ª"


    "Come on, walk!" a commanding voice shouted over Jay¡¯s.


    "Bria! You don¡¯t have to say anything! I promise I will get you out! Don¡¯t talk to these fuckturds!" Jay¡¯s voice faded as he was escorted out of the interrogation hallway. Just as it did, the officer who had been assigned to guard duty at my door abandoned his chair to stand just outside of my room¡¯s threshold. His dark eyes, rimmed with bags, met mine for a second before he stared down the hall, no doubt at the spectacle Jay was causing. The officer¡¯s hands were positioned over his firearm secured in the holster on his right hip and the pepper spray on his left. He could have remained in his chair. I was more sensible than my counterpart. Getting up and yelling at Jay would only result in more trouble than it was worth. I was hoping my compliancy would earn me a quick release.


    My patience was rewarded a couple of minutes later when Victoria, who was now carrying a tablet and stack of papers, entered the room with a different male. Her companion lacked the police badge. He had combed his graying dark hair over to the side. There were thin-rimmed glasses hanging from his shirt collar. His suit jacket covered a belt and empty gun holster. His blue eyes analyzed me as if he was trying to pigeonhole me into a specific category.


    Another male, this one another investigator in civilian clothing, entered the room with a fourth chair. He gave the chair to the other male, who sat down in it in the far corner. He leaned back into his chair and held his paper cup of coffee with both hands as if he would just be observing. The room became cramped with the four of us in it.


    "Thank you for waiting," Victoria said, as if I had any choice in the matter. She looked a little more awake than when we had first met outside. "Before we get started, let¡¯s get introduced to each other." Victoria¡¯s hand directed my attention to the other investigator. "This is Will, my partner." Will raised a hand in a lackluster greeting¡ªhe did not appear to be too happy to be conducting this interview in the morning. Victoria moved onto the second male. "And this is Senior Agent Gabriel¡ªhe¡¯s with Interpol. He¡¯ll be sitting in with us as we conduct this interview."


    My eyebrows shifted slightly, and I examined Gabriel with more interest. Due to how often we traveled around, Interpol had been the only law enforcement agency Galileo feared. Its powers were international, as opposed to national or county, which were easier to evade. Victoria brought my attention back to her when she inquired, "And how about you? What is your name?"


    I swallowed. Jay¡¯s screaming still haunted my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I cooperated and provided them with my full name. "Briara Disraeli. I go by Bria, though."


    "Can you spell that?" Victoria asked. She recorded the spelling on a form that I was too far away to read from where I was sitting. After I spelled my name, she asked for my birthday.


    "December 21, 1995," I answered. This, too, was recorded on the paperwork.


    "So that puts you at nineteen," Victoria confirmed. I nodded, still waiting for her to explain why we were in this crowded room together. When she finished recording my birthday on the form, Victoria looked up at me. "We brought you in here because we wanted to interview you about what happened yesterday. I know it is rather early right now, but it is important that you focus during this interview and answer as honestly as you can, so that if there is another dangerous situation out there that can hurt more people, we can take the appropriate action." Victoria rotated the form she had written my name and birthday on and slid it across the table to me, along with the pen. Her explanation sounded sensible.


    I glanced down at the sheet and the image of the Denver Police badge positioned on the left corner of the page popped out at me. Next to it, was the heading: Denver Police Department Advisement of Rights. Below it, a bigger paragraph advised me I had been detained out of suspicion of committing a crime, and it was the police department''s duty to investigate my involvement in that crime.


    After she reviewed my rights with me, Victoria asked, "Do you want to talk to me?¡±


    I took a deep breath, still hearing the echoes of Jay¡¯s yelling. All three investigators wore impartial expressions as they waited for my answer. I could keep mum and not submit to the questioning. I feared the consequences if I resisted, however. It didn¡¯t sound like Jay had been allowed to walk out as a free man when he had refused questioning. I wanted to quickly exonerate myself so I could leave and figure out how to get Jay out of law enforcement¡¯s custody, and then figure out what to do then. We hadn¡¯t even had the time to properly mourn Galileo. "Yes, I¡¯ll talk to you," I told them.


    Will and Gabriel looked astonished by my answer. However, Victoria kept her face neutral and nodded to the paper before me. "Great. Before we get started, can you initial each of the lines next to the advisements and then sign at the bottom just to confirm you are waiving your rights?" With trembling hands, I did as she requested, wondering if I was going to regret this. Victoria took back the paper and tucked it underneath the paper stack. She leaned back in her chair, more relaxed now that the administrative paperwork was completed. I kept my hands in my lap, my posture prim and proper. Unlike the investigator, I couldn¡¯t relax until I knew what this was about. "So, Bria, tell us about yourself."


    "What do you want to know?" I hesitated.


    "Let''s start off with what you do. You''re nineteen, right? Are you in school?"


    I nodded, cautious. "Yes. I go to Vanderbilt."


    A couple sets of eyebrows shifted upwards. "That''s a rather prestigious school, right? You must have some brains in you."


    I gave a noncommittal, one-shoulder shrug. "I''m studying to become a doctor. I haven''t quite figured out what discipline yet. I''m still in my undergrad, so I have a little bit of time at least."


    "Do you live in Colorado?"


    "No. Nashville."


    "What brought you here, then?"


    I took a deep breath, suddenly grateful that Galileo gave me an alibi. "I am an aerialist. They had a competition at Union Station yesterday that I competed in." I paused, waiting for Victoria to jump into questioning about the slaughter. Yet, interest sprung into her eyes, and she leaned slightly forward.


    "I''ve heard of aerial dance. I can''t exactly say I''ve actually seen any performances," Victoria confessed. "You light up when you talk about it, and there''s passion in your voice."


    "I guess I like to pretend I can fly," I responded.


    Victoria gave me an amused look before asking, "How long have you been doing aerial dance?"


    "About fifteen years, though it wasn¡¯t something I could really dedicate myself to until my life finally settled down in Nashville."


    "Settled down?" Victoria''s head tilted in inquiry.


    I nodded. "You want the whole story?"


    "We have time."


    "I''ll give you the condensed version." I decided. "For the first eight years of my life, I was with my mother. She was a wanderer, and we were homeless. Not in the sense you are probably familiar with. My mother had the capability of traveling the world, so I grew up going from one country to the next with her. We were never really in the same city for more than a week. We could be in Rio de Janeiro on a Monday, and then on Friday, we''d be in Bucharest." The investigators'' reactions were of the usual sort; I was used to telling my autography¡ªit was a hit at college parties. There was always curious surprise. The Interpol agent was frowning, evaluating me. I went on to announce the twist to my childhood fairytale. "Then my mother was murdered when I was eight years old."


    Victoria straightened from her forward lean. Whatever she suspected, this was not it. "Do you know by whom?"


    I pressed my lips tightly together and shook my head. "No." I paused and assessed their reactions to my simple answer, which was usually enough to shut down subsequent questioning related to the subject. No one had been clever and brave enough to prompt me for more information, so I never had to lie. I let the omitted information be while Victoria and Will exchanged a quick glance. Gabriel simply took a sip of his coffee. He had a mask over his face that made it extremely difficult to read him.


    I continued with the story Galileo had instilled in my head should I ever find myself in such a position. There was just enough truth in it that no one would ever suspect there was more to it. "After that, my mother''s friend took care of me. For two years, he continued with my mother''s nomadic ways, and raising me as such, until he determined that it wasn''t fair to me. He thought it would be better if I had a stationary home, where I could go to school and live a normal life. Since I was already ten years old at that point, the only viable option was to put me in the system. I stayed in it for eight years."


    Victoria was back to leaning in her chair; this time her arms were crossed. "What happened to him?"


    "He continued to travel the world." I felt a flare of grief seize my chest; it took a couple of deep breaths to get past the constriction. ¡°He''d drop in and check to see how I was doing. He actually came to the competition yesterday to support me."


    "He sounds like he became a father figure to you."


    I nodded in confirmation. "He did," I croaked.


    Victoria''s eyes filled with compassion as she deciphered my emotion. "He was one of the victims yesterday, wasn''t he?" I gave her another nod. My arms crossed tightly over my chest with my hands cupping my elbows. My throat felt tight, and for moments, it was difficult to breathe. I blinked, feeling my eyes get teary. "Do you have anyone else?" Victoria wondered. "What about any other friends or boyfriends?"


    I smiled grimly. "I had a boyfriend."


    "Had?"


    "He proposed before I came on this trip. I told him no."


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Will muttered a sympathetic ouch as Victoria blinked over how personal this had gotten and my level of compliancy. In his corner, Gabriel''s eyebrows shifted upwards¡ªit was one of the only signs I had gotten from him that he was even listening. "Why would you do that?" Victoria exclaimed.


    "We are still young," I sighed. "He still has several years of schooling left¡ªhe aspires to become a biochemist, and I haven''t even started my residency to become a doctor yet. We met when I was a freshman; I feel like we haven''t even scratched the surface of who the other person is yet."


    "How did you two meet?" Victoria was genuinely curious.


    "How do any college sweethearts meet?" I questioned in return. "He was a TA in my Intro to Biology class. I knew who he was from classroom discussion. Yet, he always seemed so stonewalled and unapproachable in class¡ªhe didn''t like it very much when my friend, Skye, made me laugh so much during a lab when she started using a pig''s intestine as a puppet to put on a show. Then, a couple of months into freshman year, Skye and I went to a college party. We got a little too drunk at the party and decided to return to our dorm. By a little too drunk, I mean that I was crawling in the hallway, and then Skye got lost and couldn''t remember where her dorm was. We ended up on the boys'' floor somehow, and Xavi happened to be patrolling that floor that night. He got Skye home and then proceeded to walk me back to mine. I was more lucid at that point, and we started to talk. We sat on the hill outside of my dorm talking until dawn. We''ve been inseparable ever since. He even chose to complete his graduate program at the university so he didn''t have to leave me."


    I smiled sadly. When Galileo had originally placed me in Nashville, I had been livid. I hadn''t wanted a normal life. I was whisked away by the spontaneity of the vagabond life. Yet, as the years passed, I began to appreciate the normal memories I started to accumulate. Sometimes, it was difficult for me to simply drop everything in my normal life to attend to Galileo''s missions. I argued with Galileo when he demanded I fly to Dubai to complete another one of his assignments the night of Skye''s sixteenth birthday party. I was fortunate Skye forgave me for missing that event.


    "That''s rather romantic," Victoria commented. As if Victoria could tell where my mind ventured off to, she asked about Skye. "It sounds like you and Skye have been friends for a while."


    "She was my first friend in Nashville."


    "And she got into Vanderbilt, too?"


    "Yes. You should have seen us in the weeks leading up to the SATs. We were extremely stressed out," I said with humor in my tone.


    "I remember when I took mine; I think I had three different study guides," Victoria commiserated. She picked up the pen and started to fidget with it. "How does Jay fit into all of this? You haven''t mentioned him once, and yet, you were found with him earlier this morning."


    My hands twitched in my lap, and I was grateful that none of the investigators could see the involuntary movement. My voice did not betray my emotion as I explained, "Jay was Galileo''s ward before I even came along. Jay was quite rebellious when he was younger¡ª"


    "You don''t say," Will muttered underneath his breath.


    "¡ªand got himself shipped off to the disciplinary school Galileo teaching at. Galileo was the only professor there who Jay would remotely listen to." I continued as if I hadn¡¯t heard Will''s sarcasm. "When Galileo left his teaching position to take care of me, Jay refused to stay at the school. So Galileo allowed him to come with us. He traveled with us for those two years." That was the superficial truth. There was more to it, including Kit, Galileo''s nephew, though I wasn''t about to bring up Kit''s memory and be interrogated about him. For those two years, it was Galileo traveling with three children. It was two full years of training and development as Galileo sculpted us into the agents he needed.


    "And the school allowed that?" Victoria inquired, surprised.


    I shrugged. "I don''t know all the particulars." Victoria sucked her bottom lip in, and I knew she would be doing some investigatory work on her own. She wouldn¡¯t find anything.


    "After the two years of traveling the world, did Galileo put Jay in a group home with you in Nashville?"


    I shook my head. "No. Jay was placed in Phoenix."


    "Why separate you?" Victoria inquired.


    "You''d have to ask Galileo," I sighed. "Maybe he thought Phoenix would be more fitting for Jay to succeed. It''s a lot more laid back than other places."


    "Is Jay going to school, too?"


    Victoria''s question brought an amused smile to my face, and I had to hold back a snort. "He dropped out in junior year of high school; he only made it a year before he gave the entire system the middle finger. They tried to keep him in the group home and quickly learned it was a losing battle," I declared. "Jay does what he wants."


    "Then how is he occupying his time now?"


    "He''s working at a gym as a personal trainer. It grounds him."


    "Did he also come up to support you at your competition?"


    "He did," I responded carefully.


    "Have you two been intimate before?" The question caused a rush of blood to my face and neck, and almost tore apart my aplomb. I hadn''t been expecting it. I fidgeted and stalled by collecting my hair and pulling it over one shoulder as I searched for a suitable answer. "You two were found in a bed together, naked, this morning. I assume I made the appropriate conclusion?" Victoria inquired.


    I bit my lip before answering more tersely than I wanted, "No, we haven''t had sex before last night.


    "Why last night?"


    It felt like my cheeks were on fire as I fought to control my emotions. The chair was suddenly uncomfortable. I wanted to shift to find better positioning. I remained still, as I didn''t want it to be taken as squirming. "I wanted to be comforted."


    "Because of the proposal you rejected and thus the probable ending of your two-year relationship?"


    "No, because of the slaughter I found myself surviving yesterday," I snapped. My eyes flashed with my anger. "It was a bit traumatizing. Jay is my oldest friend, and I turned to him for comfort. Maybe even for a distraction."


    Victoria paused before refocusing her questions and returning to something that had raised her curiosity. "What happened to your mother? You said she was murdered when you were eight, right? Do you know anything about that?"


    I hesitated, uncertain of how much to tell the investigators. After years of being told to keep quiet about it, I was reluctant to fill these strangers in on that part of my life; I hadn''t even told Xavier or Skye about it. All they knew was that my mother had died. It was getting too close to the secrets I knew better than to tell. Finally, I settled with, "She was investigating something. Unfortunately, it got her killed."


    "What was she investigating?"


    "I don¡¯t know." I shook my head with a shrug. "She never told me."


    Victoria nodded. "I can understand that. You were eight years old after all. If it was something dangerous, she probably would have wanted you to remain ignorant for your own safety." The female investigator paused, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and did a one-hundred-eighty rotation in her questioning. It started to turn more confrontational. The investigator was done laughing with me, trying to build rapport with me.


    "You have done well in establishing an alibi for yourself, Bria. On the surface, you have it all. You have the documents to prove it as well. You have the physical identification. Your school transcripts and social media accounts were all easy enough to locate. You are truly enchanting to watch as an aerialist, and I loved watching the videos you posted to your accounts. If we were in the business of stopping our investigation there, you would be fine." Victoria paused to analyze my expression.


    I pursed my lips, waiting for her to continue. There was nothing in my expression for her to analyze. My posture was immaculate, and I had kept my hands positioned in my lap during the interview. I had been polite, dignified, and answered her every question up to this point. Had I had any control of the time of the interview, I would have been able to present myself in a nice outfit and with my hair confined to a prim and proper bun, instead of wearing a t-shirt and tousled hair.


    "It¡¯s time to drop the fa?ade, though." Victoria didn''t sound all that welcoming with that confrontational tone she had acquired. "Did you know we found several identification documents in your hotel room¡ªpassports, IDs, social security cards? All with different names. Same picture, though. Yours. There¡¯s Briara Disraeli, and then there are the others. Gabriella Clark. Illyana Suter. Amara Forrest. Lily Feleppa. Chiara Allen."


    I kept my expression neutral, unwilling to comment¡ªverbally or nonverbally¡ªon all my aliases forged by Galileo for the many different assignments he had sent me on. Fortunately, Victoria was not searching for a response, not yet. She was still building the foundation for a more potent question. "We ran all these names through Tennessee¡¯s Department of Motor Vehicles, as well as the other forty-nine states. We couldn''t find an official hit anywhere despite the physical ID cards. This tells me that they were forged."


    I remained quiet. "However, in our quest to identify you, Interpol was gracious enough to search through their records. This is what we located." Victoria turned her stack of papers towards me.


    After she removed the coversheet, I saw that the top page featured a screenshot from a security camera in an airport. I immediately recognized myself in normal attire standing at the airport security podium, waiting for the officer to verify my identification using one of the forged cards. It had been taken a couple of months ago, when we had been flying to Helsinki from Warsaw. "The flight manifest for that particular flight you were on had you listed as Samantha Keller."


    Victoria moved this photo to the left side of the stack to reveal the next photo. This one was captured from a street camera. The image had been zoomed in to focus on a female entering the Storting Building in Oslo a little under twenty-four hours later after the first photo. Like the first photo, I immediately recognized myself, even though I had donned a blonde wig and gray pantsuit with pink accents. I remembered the mission. Galileo had wanted me to enter the government building to request records on a Zane Konstantinos. Victoria did not have anything to say about this picture and instead set it to the right of the stack.


    The next picture was of me sitting at a bar in Oslo. This time, short black hair framed my face while my short black dress revealed a lot of my cleavage. I was captured turned towards a guy in a business suit. I remembered he had been quite flirtatious that night, and the picture reflected that. I had fended off his advances while trying to get him to inadvertently tell me where the location to the Crescent was. Jay and I had come up with theories as to what the Crescent was on the flight. His favorite theory was that it was a speakeasy. However, we never did get to learn what it was. As soon as I got the pertinent information for Galileo, he fled for the night, leaving us with orders to remain in the hotel and relax until our flights back to the states.


    "So what? You¡¯re questioning me about the number of times I change my appearance?" I attempted to redirect the investigators¡¯ attention elsewhere. Fear gripped my gut. What had those Scandinavian missions been for? Were they the reason why I was sitting here right now? If so, the investigators would not learn much at all. I was as oblivious as they were.


    "We¡¯ll get to that," Victoria stated. With the three pictures of my three different appearances in the span of thirty-six hours sitting before me, Victoria went on to say, "I love to change my appearance as much as the next girl, but I think you hold the record. It made us curious about you. We started to dive in deep to determine your true identity. You know what we found out?" I gave her a blank stare, already knowing what she was going to say. "You do not exist. Yes, you have your school records and social media accounts. Yet, there are not any birth or social security records, no national identity cards, for any of your aliases. You have done something that is quite impossible to do in this era. You have mingled with the general population¡ªyou''ve flown on planes!¡ªand yet, there isn¡¯t any official record that you exist anywhere in the world. How is that possible?"


    I shrugged again, keeping my face neutral. My tone was just as neutral. "I don''t know."


    Feeling like she was not getting anywhere with this line of questioning, Victoria moved on to the next set of questions after she exchanged glances with the Interpol agent. Gabriel gestured for her to continue. Sighing, Victoria gathered up the screenshots and set them aside. She returned to sitting fully back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. "Let¡¯s talk about yesterday at Union Station. What do you remember of the massacre?¡±


    "Nothing," I declared.


    "Nothing?" she repeated, blinking.


    "No. I was walking across the hall to meet Galileo, who was by the coffee shop, after I returned from the bathroom. In one moment, everything was fine. In the next... it was not. The attack happened and... Galileo was dead. I knew it the moment I saw him." I choked on a sob.


    "In that moment between when you say everything was fine and when it wasn¡¯t, did you feel like you had lost any time?" This time, it was Will who posed the question. He was peering at me with narrowed eyes. He leaned forward so that his folded arms and upper chest were resting against the table.


    "No," I uttered softly. "It was like I put my left foot forward and everything was normal. When I swung my right foot forward, everything had changed. Just in the span of a millisecond. I don¡¯t have any recollection of the attack." I knew I sounded absurd, that my answers implied that the impossible had happened. It was a phenomenon that couldn''t be explained.


    "Are you certain you don¡¯t remember anything? We have reason to believe that a weapon that can harness electricity may be involved."


    For moments, I froze, remembering how it had felt when I regained consciousness after the attack. It seemed like my skin was crackling with electricity. I forced myself to take a deep breath. "I¡¯m certain."


    Will and Victoria exchanged another, highly significant look. I felt like they had dropped a loose noose around my neck and were gradually tightening it. Would it come to the point where I had unknowingly signed my own execution warrant if I failed to exercise my right to remain silent? At the beginning, I was certain that if I cooperated and answered all their questions, they would come to see that I was innocent of whatever crime they were investigating. Now, I was gradually becoming aware that they knew something about the attack that I didn¡¯t know. It was my own ignorance tightening the noose around my throat. I took another deep breath just to remind myself that I had my full ability to breathe, and the noose was only figurative. The tension made my spine rigid. I glanced at Gabriel, only to catch him staring at me. I forced myself to meet his stare. Evaluative suspicion resided in his blue eyes. He refused to be intimidated by my eye contact and instead, it was me that looked away first.


    Victoria picked up the tablet, typed in a quick numerical passcode, and activated one of the tablet¡¯s apps. When she pointed the screen at me, I saw she had pulled up video footage from one of the cameras in Union Station. It was paused on a screenshot showing people walking and lingering around the hall, telling me that the footage was before the attack. The hall didn''t look like that now.


    "Hit play," Victoria requested.


    My finger was trembling when I brought it up to the middle of the screen and pressed the right triangle. It took seconds for the video to start playing. From the timestamp in the bottom left of the screen, I discovered that the footage captured yesterday morning around eleven-thirty. The camera was pointed in the direction of the Terminal Bar. With horror, I realized that it had a very good view of the aisle Jay and I had walked down as we had tried to leave the premises. I watched as people milled around and started searching in between them for some sign of the men Galileo had been meeting. The bystanders slowly consumed coffee and tea as they sat in leather chairs and enjoyed the ambiance. Just to the edge of the camera view, I could see the outliers of the audience observing the aerial performances. An older woman with graying blonde hair was walking across the floor and pulling a suitcase behind her, heading for the trains. Everything looked so innocent underneath the Saturday morning sunlight. The bright tulips in the interior pots added a pop of festive spring color to the hall¡¯s ambience.


    I knew exactly where to look to see Jay and me enter the camera''s view. Our pace was quick and intentional. I saw the moment when I tripped, and Jay caught me. My shoulder blade throbbed from the reminder of the intense pain I had felt around that time. Jay managed to stabilize me. It was right there when I lost consciousness. I thought the camera would jump to the conclusion of the attack, as that was what I remembered.


    The camera had continued recording, even if I hadn''t been aware of what was occurring around me.


    I could only stare at the video in horror as I witnessed what I did not remember.


    Somehow, someway, a burst of what appeared to be lightning erupted from me. Due to the intensity of it, I could not see if its origin point was my core or my hands. One thing was certain: it definitely came from me. Its first victim was Jay. The moment the silver current touched Jay, Jay was sent flying backwards until he collided with one of the white pillars in the hall. The back of his head snapped against it. I released a horrified gasp as I saw him fall forward onto the ground, where he did not move. I wished that was the end of it, and that he was my only victim.


    The video continued to play. My body exerted more of that current, and it struck the first bystanders down without giving them a fighting chance. Then the lightning faded as fire and water erupted from me, causing destruction of both life and property. The camera picture shook as a large crack traveled from the building¡¯s foundation, up the wall, and shattered parts of the ceiling. A large ravine divided the floor. I saw blood and body parts splatter over surfaces. Meanwhile, the surviving bystanders were fleeing towards the nearest exits. Some of them were unfortunate victims of my blasts. They went down without ever getting up.


    Unable to stomach watching the massacre any longer, I jabbed at the middle of the screen multiple times, trying to get the video to stop.


    I was uncertain of my expression as I glanced up at the grim-faced investigators, who were focused on me and my body language. Galileo¡¯s lessons on composure and compartmentalizing had not prepare me for this, for what I had seen myself doing in the video. I was horrified, and then in disbelief and denial. There had to be some explanation. It had to be those men Galileo had met with. Or maybe the compass I had been holding. I didn¡¯t remember killing so many people, so it couldn''t have been me. I couldn''t be Galileo¡¯s murderer. No. Absolutely not. I was not a murderer. I had never felt the need to kill, whether out of lust or violence or self-preservation.


    "Did that jolt your memory a little?" Victoria pried, breaking the silence in the room.


    I struggled to find even an inkling of memory of the attack. My brain remained insistent that I was not present for it. I shook my head.


    "Do you recognize the weapon you used?"


    Confused, I blinked multiple times in rapid succession. The camera had been so far above me that a weapon hadn¡¯t been clear¡ªif I even had one. Where had I gotten weapons powerful enough to cause a massacre? "No," I whispered. Fear became tangled up in the confusion, along with the realization that if I was the suspect of mass murder, they would not let me walk out of here a free woman, even if I cooperated. They had video evidence that I was the perpetrator. I was not innocent. Feeling trapped, I sought the only comfort I had. "Where¡¯s Jay?" I blurted out.


    "Jay has been arrested under the suspicion of being your accomplice," Victoria informed me after a second.


    I stared at the tablet, its screen still paused on me in the middle of the attack. Heart thumping fiercely in my chest, I looked up at them. "I don¡¯t want to answer any more questions," I whispered.


    Those were the powerful words I needed to get the investigators to leave the room. In their place, two uniformed officers entered the room. I followed all their orders as one of them restrained me in the handcuffs again before escorting me out to a cop car. I didn¡¯t dare ask them what was happening now. I didn''t need it voiced out into the universe. My freedom was being stolen from me. For a good reason. I was a murderer. I had seen it with my own eyes. I had murdered the only person who had the power and intellect to get me out of the predicament I found myself in. I had taken down my peer, my confident, with me. It didn¡¯t matter that there was so much I didn''t know. I knew enough about the American criminal justice system to know I would never be a free woman again.

 FOUR

    Denver City Jail was about twenty-one minutes away from headquarters by car. The sun had risen during the interrogation. Clouds blocked most of its morning rays and the light blue morning sky, casting a dreary disposition over the city.


    Once we arrived at the facility, I was escorted to the receiving area, where everything became a blur of procedure and policy. A team of officers was waiting for me; they worked together to get me processed through as quickly as possible. The other inmates had been locked up behind doors, as if I was a notorious and dangerous criminal that they had to keep separate. Magnet covers had been placed over the cell windows. As a female officer patted me down before removing the handcuffs, a nurse asked me a series of medical questions. Did I have a recent history of fever or excessive coughing? Did I have any contagious diseases such as tuberculous, HIV, or hepatitis? What about diabetes or high blood pressure? Was I suicidal, or did I have a mental health diagnosis? After the nurse had completed the series of medical questions, one of the officers fired his own questions at me. What was my religion? Did I have any tattoos? Where was I born? Was I employed? Did I have an emergency contact?


    After the questions, two female officers took me back to a secluded room to change into a red uniform. Unwillingly, I removed my shirt and leggings in exchange for the brown underwear, white sports bra, white undershirt, and red shirt and pants set. I stared up at the ceiling and had to blink several times to avoid having an emotional breakdown in front of the officers.


    The nurses got involved when the officers informed them about the wound on my back shoulder, something that they had discovered when I underwent the strip search. The nurses did the best they could to stitch the skin back together. I was in such a mental state that I was numbed to the pain.


    From there came the photographs. I managed to remain calm as an officer took my mugshot and side profile. Another officer collected my fingerprints and salvia. I was successful in compartmentalizing my emotion. My movements were robotic. I was millimeters away from collapsing on the floor and never getting up again.


    Briara Andralyn Disraeli might have not existed in a government database before today, but she would tonight. I would no longer be some anonymous ghost of society.


    A female officer with tortoiseshell glasses handed me an ID card with my mugshot on it. The bright lights at the photographing station had made my pale skin more severe. Dark bags had already started to appear underneath my haunted eyes. My strawberry-brown hair was in tangles, even shoved behind my ears and shoulders. I gripped the card as if it was my security blanket and blankly accepted the two wool blankets, white sheets, rubber cup and spoon, and toilet paper roll they gave me. The book-in process completed, I was escorted through the jail with shackles severely limiting my movement. I looked for Jay, even though I knew it was hopeless. They wouldn¡¯t allow us to see one another since he was being considered my accomplice.


    I was led to a cell that was in a room with fifteen other cells. Every cell had a nosy inmate pressed against its window; the inmates had been secured in their cells before I entered the dayroom for my own safety. I would not be well-liked in the jail population, I learned, due to my crimes. The tortoiseshell glasses officer directed me to my cell, which was the last cell on the upper tier. Through electronic prompting, the cell¡¯s door slid open. The moment I entered the cell, the same electronic prompting had the cell door closing, locking me in a twelve feet by six space.


    Feeling absolutely lost, I sat the white bucket with all my facility-issued supplies in it on the metal desk. A bunk and accompanying mattress were installed against the left wall. It was smaller than a twin-sized bed. Immediately to my right was a toilet and sink combination. A foot from that was the desk and its stool, both nailed to the concrete wall. The only access to the outside world was a window, about a foot tall, installed in the back wall, right underneath the ceiling. A section of the wall was painted blue behind the desk, perhaps to mimic a bulletin board and to imply that it was the only area where I was allowed to hang pictures and papers. Pencil drawings marked the cell walls. Toothpaste dollops caused the cell to smell. Everything was hard, barren, and impersonal. The only comfort items in it were the thin mattress and my linens. The only blessing was that there wasn''t a camera monitoring my every move.


    Unable to compartmentalize my emotions and since it was no longer necessary to display a brave pretense now that I was alone, I collapsed to the floor in between the bunk and desk. Much like a dog protecting his internal organs, I curled up into a ball and tried to bring my head into my upper chest as much as I could. The despair was too much to combat. It exploded into body-vibrating and echoing sobs. Darkness entered my thoughts. I had not been raised to be evil, but in a matter of moments, I had become it. I had been preparing to take the Hippocratic Oath in a couple of years. Yet... I had needlessly killed. I had killed innocents. I had killed the only parental figure I had left in my life. The intention to massacre might have not been there, but there was no denying what I had seen on the camera footage and its truth. I did not deserve to live anymore. My life was forfeit. I would die in this very cell, and it would not matter when. There was not any meaning to living anymore. This was a nightmare I would never escape from.


    I would have spent the rest of my days rotting on the ground if I had been allowed. Everything remained hazy. Officers came by at least three times to offer me meals. They pestered me about going to court. At least twice, they had the nurse evaluate me. My vitals were collected from machines placed on my limp limbs. Every time, they questioned, "Are you suicidal?" Their question was met with silence, until one too many times, it was too much. The sergeant supervising from the cell¡¯s threshold aired her decision. "Put her on suicide watch."


    I was heaved from the ground and onto my feet. My weakness had amplified since I had been placed into the cell, and the two male officers who controlled my arms had to support most of my weight as I shuffled forward. As we walked out of the dayroom, I heard other inmates yelling and banging against their cell doors. They had realized who I was; they wanted immediate justice. Their words were unable to penetrate the fog surrounding my mind.


    My new cell was completely different than my old one. All four walls, the floor, and the high ceiling were made of rubber. There wasn''t a bunk, desk, or toilet. A blue nylon blanket had been dropped in the corner with a gown made from the same material. The male officers left me in the cell with four female officers, who ordered me to remove all my clothing. With ice cold fingers, I removed my uniform. They were satisfied once I had removed every single article and left me in the cell to dress myself in the gown. I did not care to do so. This was simply a new place for me to collapse on the ground and wait for death to take me, a willing soul.


    I was not sure how long I laid on the ground in the rubber cell. The darkness in my soul deprived me of everything until the only thing I could sense was the chill surrounding my fingers and toes. My stomach weakly protested its hunger, and my throat became parched from thirst. The same images ran through my mind in constant repetition: becoming conscious in a war zone, where blood painted the walls and floors, where corpses were sprawled out. Watching Jay be tossed backwards like he weighed absolutely nothing. Seeing that the death blows came from my own hands. Remembering how many people had fled Union Station and hovered across the street, sobbing, terrified. Galileo laying on the ground, his lifeless gaze staring upwards. My hands scrambling over his body as if there was a button that would revive him. I had caused his death.


    Sometime later, new officers interrupted the nightmarish chaos of my thoughts. Apparently, the judge was impatient with my continued absence and ordered the officers to bring me by force. There was no need. I went willingly. The female ones waited inside of the cell and averted their gazes as I dressed myself. Once again, they handcuffed and shackled me. They escorted me to the courthouse. I was vaguely aware of the news media standing outside of the secure area, and the flashes of cameras out of the corner of my eyes as I was shuffled into a room adjacent to the courtroom.


    A skinny younger looking man with exhaustion around his haggard eyes and stingy, oily hair met me there. Only some of his words penetrated the fog: he was a public defender assigned to help me through the advisement hearing; there was some rights and a protection order I had to acknowledge. He did not think I would be granted a bond in the case. He asked me questions, to which I robotically answered around my arid mouth. Until the very end, when I asked him, "Can we just bypass all the trial stuff and go to the chair? I''m guilty. I don''t want to do any of this circus stuff. Just bring me to the chair. I''ll waive all my rights."


    The attorney stared at me. I peered at him through my fingers as my forehead leaned against the palm of my hand. I was slouched in the chair with my elbow planted on the table between us. After a couple of moments, he said, "No, we have to do this circus stuff. I''ll be asking for a competency evaluation for you, and you''re going to get some mental health help. After that, we''ll discuss your options." The attorney snapped his laptop shut and hurried out of the conference room. Sighing, I got up for my officer escort to bring me into the courtroom.


    A female judge already waited at the esteemed bench in the front of the courtroom. Just by the state of her dark-colored bob cropped around her angular face, I already knew she was anal-retentive and obsessive with order. Even as her dark-colored eyes judged me, there was curiosity in her eyes. The wrinkles forming on her forehead and around her lips informed me she was older, while the confidence she carried herself with revealed she had experience. Although she tried to mute the excitement and duty in her eyes, I realized that this would be the first high-profile case she would preside over.


    The officers guided me to one of the middle seats in the jury box. They left me sitting alone to face my reality, though I knew they would instantaneously be there to control me if I misbehaved. To my left, there were several rows of pews. Every single one of them was filled until there was only standing room in the back. I felt the heat of many stares against my profile. The law enforcement presence in the room was enough to deter anyone from causing a disturbance. In all, I counted eight officers scattered throughout the courtroom. More lurked in both the public and staff hallways.


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    "I am Judge McKenna, and I will be presiding over this matter, docket number 15CR6737, for its duration. Today will be simple, and it will not involve any glitz and glamour. I have been entrusted to make sure the truth is represented in my courtroom, and I will not allow even the glimmer of a lie or an interruption of the truth. I have also been entrusted to ensure that the rights of the victims and defendants are recognized and followed. This is a matter of ensuring order and safety in my courtroom. This is a matter of ensuring that the victims of this crime are served by justice. This is not entertainment, and anyone who chooses to not respect this can excuse themselves from my courtroom." The courtroom was silent. No one dared to protest the rules Judge McKenna had set forth. My hands squeezed one another on my lap.


    Judge McKenna continued. "We are here today for a formal advisement of the charges being set forth against Briara Andralyn Disraeli. As it stands right now¡ªand this number may change¡ªMs. Disraeli, you are being charged with one hundred four counts of murder in the first degree; three hundred counts of first-degree assault; and felony criminal mischief. You will be provided all the rights the United States Constitution allows, including the right to a speedy trial and to defend yourself. If you choose to forgo finding your own defense council, a public defender will be provided for you as long as you are in custody."


    I swayed in the chair. This was all too formal, too real. My life was unraveling.


    "Moving on, the People have petitioned to collect a blood sample from you. There is some reasonable belief that you may have been under the influence of some drug when the events occurred. I have granted their request to further the investigation and have signed a warrant for this to happen. A blood-draw nurse will be waiting in the secure area beyond the courtroom to collect this sample. Officers, if you could allow this to happen before Ms. Disraeli is returned to the facility, I would appreciate it. Let''s now address the mandatory protection order." I blinked, wondering where the prosecution would have gotten the idea I had been under the influence at the time of the massacre. Were they blaming my memory-lapse on drugs?


    The judge got input from both the district attorney and public defender about the mandatory protection order. I barely paid any attention to the restrictions placed on me with the protection order. None of it mattered anyway; I wasn''t about to get alcohol or drugs inside of the facility, nor did I know of any of the victims, so I couldn''t really harass them. Still, I signed the document. From there, the parties discussed my bond. Again, I felt that I could have remained in the rubber cell for this discussion. I was a community safety risk. They had me locked up. There was no way a judge would sign off on my release, GPS monitoring or no.


    Yet, the judge had to make the formal record. "Furthermore, Ms. Disraeli does not seem to have any family in the area or a permanent home. She has shown she poses a high threat to the public at this time. I am ordering that the defendant continue to be held on a no bond. We will meet back here on June Seventh at nine in the morning for a formal filing of charges."


    Amid the flashes of cameras, the officers escorted me to that secure room off the courtroom. They stood by, watchful, as a nurse collected several vials of my blood before wiping my elbow clean and bandaging the area. The officers and nurse were on edge, though they didn''t have anything to fear. I was too numb from self-loathing and humiliation to do anything to any of them. From there, I was returned to the suicide watch in the rubber cell. I forfeited all my clothing, and I was left alone with the demons in my mind. I returned to my fetal position, wishing for death''s escort.


    The rubber cell was in an area of the jail where inmates with behavioral and mental health concerns were being held, I soon realized. From what I had seen entering and leaving the area, there were twenty cells in this specialized unit. Each cell had only one occupant. Two of them took to screaming throughout the night¡ªone of them seemed to have only profanity in his vocabulary. Another inmate specialized in kicking his cell door for hours on end when his demands were not satisfied. Yet another stood at his cell door¡¯s window for long periods of time, creepily staring at the cell across the hall. When the stench of feces met my nose, I learned of yet another inmate: the one who painted with his own waste. I was in the housing block for the deranged, where each of us had our own demons to play with.


    My emotional strength waned, and after several days, something broke in me. I was exhausted of waiting for death to steal me away. I could no longer handle the deep, lingering depression and guilt, which were amplified by the incessant screaming and banging coming from the unit¡¯s other occupants. Even sleep¡ªthe one way I could escape from this hell I had put myself in¡ªeluded me. I cracked, exploded.


    Using whatever strength I had left after starving myself for days, I stood up and faced the glass window. Without restraint, I started to slam my head against the glass. At least two minutes passed before a swarm of officers flew into the cell and restrained me, yanking me away from the window. I was past being cooperative and passive. I was wild, and a couple of times, I was able to pull my limbs away from their control. Initially, they didn''t control my head, and I was able to get enough space to slam it against the ground multiple times before one of them grabbed the back of my head and pressed it down. Even though they had me flattened down against the ground, I squirmed, trying to get away from them. A part of me hoped that they would just kill me themselves. However, instead, they strapped me into the restraint chair, with my arms, legs, and hips secured to it, for hours until exhaustion convinced me to become cooperative again.


    The chair forced me to be still and aware. There was no other outlet for my mind, and it was there where I became conniving. It would be impossible for me to tear apart the blanket and gown to create a noose. The pitiful sack lunches they gave me lacked anything I could use to suffocate myself. However, the inmates who were not on suicide watches got various supplies, supplies that could be useful to accomplish my goal. The first step to accomplishing it became getting out of this chair and off watch.


    Having this new goal motivated me, gave me a new purpose. I put on a mask of innocence when the sergeant came to the rubber cell and asked if I would attempt to harm myself. I looked him straight in the eye and softly informed him that I just wanted to sleep. As easy as that, I was removed from the chair, and it was wheeled out of my cell. It was more difficult to get off suicide watch. That took a couple more days of patience. I forced myself to eat the items the jail classified as food and sleep underneath the blanket, aware that the staff was watching me and recording my every move. My performance must have been convincing, because after at least a week in the rubber cell, a psychologist met with me. The questions were standard, what I had expected and planned for. Did I have anything to live for? Did I have any past suicide attempts? Would I tell a staff member if I was suicidal?


    An hour after that interview, I was off suicide watch and back in a uniform. I was placed in the medical unit with the jail-issued sheets and blankets. This cell, unlike my first cell, had a camera mounted to the ceiling; my freedom was still restricted. I adjusted my plan accordingly and added in a waiting period. There would come a point of time when the staff member assigned to watch me would become complacent and stop paying attention as closely as he should. He would think it would be safe enough for him to look away to rummage in his lunchbox, check his emails, or run to the bathroom. My opportunities would increase during the graveyard hours, especially when staff had to work into the night after spending the afternoon with their children. That would be when I would strike. Until then, I would behave as a model inmate. I would choke down the bland food and occupy my time with a book or pacing my cell.


    The other part of my plan fell into place during the first meeting with my new defense council. The Niccoli and Bryson law firm was private and completely separated from the public defender¡¯s office. They had sent me a letter and requested to represent me. On my hour out of my cell the day after I got the letter, I called the firm and accepted their representation. It was clear to me that they did not expect any payment from me; it had already been taken care of. I suspected Skye and her family were behind the benevolence; after all, she was following her family''s heritage and going to Vanderbilt for her law degree.


    The day after I made the phone call, two attorneys from the firm met with me. One was Ava Bryson, who was the daughter of one of the firm¡¯s lead attorneys, and the other was Lucas Flanagan. After introductions, they proceeded to review my charges with me, the criminal justice process, my rights as a defendant, and what type of defense they were thinking of putting forth. They were compassionate despite my charges. I think they thought they were offering me some hope in a desperate situation by letting me know that I would not be alone to face these massive charges. I put on a fa?ade of compliance, though I was pleased when they produced the homicide victims'' names. Most of the names were a blur, and I was searching for one in particular: Olivia''s, my aerial dancing coach. It was a godsend when her name was missing from the list.


    After the meeting, I snuck a paper clip back into my cell. I was already committed to leaving this life.


    I waited until the end of the week to use the paper clip. I chose the middle of the night and hid underneath my blanket as I used the paper clip to puncture the undersides of my wrists and rip the skin there wide open. It took all the strength I had developed as an aerialist. The damage done, I laid on my mattress, waiting for enough blood to depart my body so that my soul would no longer be trapped.


    I got close, so close.


    By the time one of the officers realized what I had done, I had lost all control of my body. My mind was no longer connected to it. I was only faintly aware of the rush of officers and nurses into my cell, my blankets and sheets being torn off my body, and pressure being applied to both wrists. The cell lights had been flipped on, and whenever a staff member¡¯s head was not over me, the lights blinded my blurry vision. Paramedics arrived in the cell, making it more crowded. I was limp as they lifted me onto a gurney and rushed me to a hospital.


    The hospital was able to reverse my self-inflicted damage.


    I was livid over my thwarted attempt.


    Once I was released from the hospital, I didn''t return to the jail. Ava and Lucas were admitted into the hospital room just before I was transferred to another hospital. "Judge McKenna has ordered a competency evaluation," Ava informed me. She was uncomfortable over the sight of me four-point restrained to the bed. It was in the way she shifted on her feet and how her eyes darted around, unable to maintain my gaze for longer than a couple of seconds at a time. "You¡¯ll be going down to the Colorado Mental Health Institute of Pueblo in a couple of minutes. Until you return or are declared incompetent, your case will be on pause." Ava paused before taking a deep breath. "I can¡¯t imagine what kind of headspace you are in right now. If you need any help, don¡¯t hesitate to reach out, okay? Just don¡¯t give up. Don¡¯t let those demons win, okay? We¡¯ve got this. We¡¯ll talk when you get back; there may be a surprise waiting for you if we can get it approved by my father." Inwardly, I snorted over her compassion and her belief that I would be returning to the jail.


    However, the Colorado Mental Health Institute of Pueblo was more severe than the jail in that they didn''t give me any more opportunities to attempt suicide. As soon as I arrived, I was provided a paper gown. The lead doctor threatened me with four-point restraints if I even tried to unwrap the bandages. Suffice to say, I did not listen to him. I wasn''t even there for a full day before I was attempting to undo all the doctors'' work. I was ready for the staff response. I fought them every step of the way and struggled with them as they attempted to restrain me. The struggle escalated. The doctor ordered me to be injected with Haldol. More came when it proved ineffective. When that dose was ineffective, the third injection was ketamine.


    That was enough to send me into that blissful unconsciousness I had been desiring ever since SWAT broke down the hotel room door and arrested me.


    It was enough to quiet the demons.

 FIVE

    "For all the evers, for all the infinities, for all the infinite stars in the sky."


    My spine went rigid; my palms flattened against the table. Whenever I heard the phrase in the past, it was a feminine voice that said it, and not a male''s, as it was now. I twisted in my seat to pinpoint where the voice came from.


    A couple tables over, a young man and woman sat side by side at a round cafe table in the shade of a Haussmannien building. Their hands were entwined, and their heads were bent close to one another as if none of the world mattered. Neither of them turned to confront my stare. Feeling disgusted, I righted myself. My hands still clutched the table as my gaze searched the area.


    I found myself seated at a round table outside a cafe in the sunlight. The cafe was a part of a row of towering buildings that ran down the street. On the other side of the street, a wide river divided the city. Several bridges¡ªspread out at intervals¡ªconnected the parts of the city. If I looked upwards towards the horizon, I could see the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame spires against the blue sky. My ears picked up on the exchanges of French and English as servers assisted cafe patrons with ordering.


    My focus narrowed to my table. Unlike the lovebirds behind me, I was alone. There was a single cappuccino and pinkish macaroon in front of me; both were unsurprisingly untouched. The wind was slightly caressing my face and played with the skirt of my sundress. The temperature was perfect: not too cold that goosebumps formed on my arms, not too hot that sweat accumulated on my brow. Beyond the conversations around me, I could hear the rush of traffic. I blinked at the items on the table before me, attempting to make sense of my new contradictory reality. My mind was resistant against accepting this as real.


    Instead, it was adamant that only moments ago, I was in the middle of another suicide attempt. If I concentrated, I could still feel the hospital guards'' hands all over my skin as the paper suit ripped. I could still feel the faint pain as they torqued my limbs into painful twists. Someone had been wordlessly screaming, and those screams echoed throughout the building. My face had been wet. Sweat, maybe, or perhaps tears. Blood spread throughout the cell as if it was an explosion of glitter. It was a brutal bath. I had fought the guards for some time¡ªlong enough for the doctor to decide that it was appropriate to sedate me with Haldol and ketamine. The substances had fogged my mind, had sent me into blissful oblivion.


    Until I had regained consciousness here.


    I wished I could believe my senses and believe that I really was in Paris. Out of all the many places I had visited, Paris was amongst my favorites. The last time I had walked its streets had been a couple of years ago. I wanted to give everything I had just to have this be my reality instead of just a hallucination.


    My gaze fell on the cappuccino again. I bit my lip, considering.


    My instincts alarmed, and I glanced up quickly. My gaze landed on a solitary male sitting just to my left. He was also taking up an entire table by himself. His own gaze was focused on the book he had flattened against the table. I couldn''t ignore my instincts. The man had just shifted his own gaze back to his book before mine could catch him. His facial structure was sturdy with a strong jaw and cheekbones, both of which were covered by a thin blanket of dark facial fuzz. His hair was buzzed short. Health was clearly a priority for him; I could see the thick corded muscles sculpting his collarbone area and shoulders. I thought he was going to ignore me until slowly, his own gaze drifted upwards to meet mine with inquiry¡ªas if I was the one who had initiated the entire thing.


    Out of human habit and the shame of being caught, my gaze darted away. I scanned the caf¨¦¡¯s exterior. There was something off about it all, something that extended way beyond the cappuccino and the words that the male half of the couple had stolen from my mother. Everything just seemed feigned, fake, as if stardust had been sprinkled all over the scene. Everything was just too pleasant. The couple behind me was too affectionate and their PDA too ostentatious. There were the two friends meeting over coffee in front of me who were too animated. They were too passionate over whatever they were discussing for it to be realistic. The server interacted with the next table over, and his smile was too wide and his uniform blindly white. A mother sat with her daughter in front of me. The motherly affection was a bit overzealous. No one seemed to care that there was a killer in their midst.


    The only other person who wasn¡¯t radiating overzealous emotion was the male sitting adjacent to me. His attention had refocused on his book. He even flipped a page forward, as his eyes scanned the new page back and forth.


    Bringing my hand up to the necklace I was wearing, I returned my gaze back to the cappuccino. I ran my fingers across the pendent strung onto the necklace as I pondered. The pendent was a crude diamond. The sun''s rays collided with it and created a rainbow across my hand. Testing this new reality further, I took a sip of the cappuccino. My nose crinkled over the tart and bitter taste. There was a lack of sugar, favoring, and cream to alleviate the bitterness. If this was a dream, I would not be having doubts about my surroundings. I would not realize it was a dream until the transition into awakening. Which meant something else was amiss.


    I pushed back from the table. The chair scraped against the ground. No one even glanced in my direction as I stood up. Without looking back, I navigated my way through the maze of cafe tables and joined the pedestrian traffic walking along the river. I had been to Paris numerous times before and could navigate by using the landmarks. Feeling apprehensive, I walked at an even pace towards the Arc de Triomphe and Champ Elysees. Both areas were heavy in pedestrian congestion, and it would be easy to evade a stalker if I had one.


    As I walked, I observed the other pedestrians. Their emotions were as ostentatious as those at the cafe. Their laughter was amplified, smiles too wide. I was used to being the reserved one in groups. This amplification was a bit too much. The world was filled with imperfections that this reality was not reflecting at all. I also couldn''t shake the recent memories of those suicidal thoughts and actions. Then, there was the constant feeling that I was being watched from afar.


    While all these different people around me were just figments of my imagination, there was one other person who was lucid and real. Several times, I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was following me. The crowd behind me concealed any indication that he was. Still, I tried to put barriers in his path, like the busy server carrying four entree plates out to the exterior tables in front of a bustling restaurant.


    When I reached the roundabout surrounding the Arc de Triomphe, the traffic forced me to come to a complete stop on the edge of the curb. I bounced on the balls of my feet as I waited for the traffic to clear up. I didn''t know where I was going exactly¡ªI was still trying to figure out what was going on and where I was. I was curious as to how far this place went to resemble Paris.


    I sensed my stalker¡¯s approach coming from behind. I snarled underneath my breath and stepped out in front of a car. The car''s brakes squealed as it slowed down enough for me to cross the roundabout. I skipped through the openings and dodged the vehicles in the inner lanes of traffic until I reached the circular concrete plate that the arc was on. Unlike the other times I had visited, it was void of any military and law enforcement presence. This made it simple enough to slip underneath the shadowy parts of the arc and wait. The monument''s stone underbelly was cool against my exposed shoulders and hands, which were flattened against it.


    It became apparent that the male had some tactical training when he slowly approached the monument''s underside. Taking small steps on a convex line, he gradually exposed himself from his own cover as his eyes searched the shadows. There was enough of a concave curve in the arc''s belly that I remained hidden from his search. The male''s frown was clear. He paused as he searched the area to ensure I had not fled from the scene. When he convinced himself nothing was amiss, he started his approach into the arc¡¯s underbelly. His arms were loose and partly raised to defend if he needed to.


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    I held off attacking until he had crossed the threshold underneath the arc. I darted out of my concealment, grabbed his arm, lifted it, and kicked him in his kidney in a matter of milliseconds. The male released a grunt and reacted by starting to hunch over. I was already redirecting his fall with a skillful twist of his arm. It was a move that did not require much power once you had leverage and momentum over the subject. The ground underneath us vibrated as he fell. I scrambled on top of him and positioned my knees right underneath his armpits. "How did you know?" he croaked. "How did you know this wasn''t reality?"


    I frowned at the backside of his head. That wouldn''t have been the first thing I would have said if I was at such a disadvantage. "The cappuccino," I grumbled. "I wouldn''t order that. I prefer a caramel latte. Iced with sugar, syrup, and milk."


    "They said you would be smart." I felt my equilibrium destroyed when the male pushed himself off the ground and leapt up onto his feet. I was flung sideways and off balanced onto my planted palm. I was still trying to find my balance when he threw me onto my back and assumed the position of advantage by kneeling over me. A smirk resided on his arrogant face as he peered down at me. The top half of his face was concealed by shadow so I didn''t have to see his amusement tinkling in his eyes. "But not brilliant." I growled over his insult. He had my arms trapped by my sides with his legs. I fought through the astonishment over the sudden maneuver and struggled to get my breathing under control. I was somewhat impressed. He had to possess both strength and grace to execute that maneuver.


    "Who''s they?" I hissed.


    "The people who want you to learn how to use the sanctuary, and me to train you." The male answered with contempt. I tried to shift underneath him. His thighs held me so tightly that it was impossible.


    "I have no idea what you just said. To me, it seems like you hijacked my mind!" I told him snidely. It was impossible to not match the attitude in his tone, which made it clear that he loathed being here. It was obvious someone had to twist his arm and promise him something to convince him to take up this assignment.


    The male snorted. "Again, not very brilliant."


    My eyes narrowed into a glare over the insult. Fury erupted within me. "You''re a fuckturd." I grunted as I bucked my hips upwards. His arrogance brought him down. His own fall was as ungraceful as mine had been. He posted his arms besides my head to regain his balance. I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. However, I was already moving. I had enough flexibility and strength to wrap both of my legs around his waist and pull. The male tried to resist the backwards momentum by grabbing for something. There was nothing around him except stone and me. My legs flung him to his back. I ended up on his chest with my feet pressing down against his upper thighs. My toes hit pressure points in the area, which caused the male to buck. Keeping my body low to his and my hands pressing against his chest, I worked my way up his body until I was positioned directly underneath his collarbone. I doubted he had enough of the required flexibility to copy my maneuver.


    Breathing heavily from the exertion, I stared down at his face. This close to him, I realized that his irises were copper, and together with his face, expressed surprise. He hadn''t expected to be flipped as easily as I had done it. My arms were pressed against his as I held them down, and I could feel the defined curve of his biceps against my forearms. "You''re going to start off by telling me who you are," I demanded.


    The male had the gall to snort underneath me. The arrogance in his eyes slowly consumed the awe. "That was the first question you asked me?"


    "Wrong answer." My elbow was positioned precisely over his brachial plexus. A little pressure from my elbow made the male squirm and his face twist. I alleviated the pressure after a couple of seconds. "You want to try again?"


    "Hawk," he declared.


    My eyes narrowed. "What''s your real name?"


    "That''s what you''re getting," he growled.


    In one movement, Hawk jerked upwards. It was enough to unseat my hold on him. I slid partly off his chest before feeling his leg press against my back and his arms pulling me over his head as he executed a backwards somersault. I tucked my head just in time before I slammed against the ground. Hawk hovered over me in the same exact position that I had been in moments before. The only difference was that Hawk had more strength than I did. His fingers curled around my wrists. "Did you grow up with brothers?" He wondered.


    "You could say that," I growled. Jay was not an easy grappling partner. He made me work for dominance.


    Hawk nodded to himself, as if my answer confirmed one of his theories about me. Then the wonder faded, and he refocused. "The first question you should have asked is ''Where are we?''"


    I glared up at him. Some of the reluctance and agitation in his copper eyes had shifted into amusement. "Well, since you are so excited to answer that particular question, you should just tell me," I huffed.


    "Or show you. Maybe then you''ll listen to me." Hawk smirked. There was a flicker of concentration across his face. That was all it took for our surroundings to disappear. The cool stone against my back disappeared; I could no longer feel any surface supporting me. The shadowy arch above us faded into darkness. The traffic noises penetrating the shadowy interior of the arch faded into silence. Everything was gone; it was just Hawk and me in the middle of the darkness. We were floating in the middle of the universe. There weren''t even stars spotting the space. Panic seized my heart. It was difficult to control. I could feel my breathing increase as my wide gaze drifted back to Hawk, who had also been looking around us. He, however, remained calm. Feeling my gaze on him, he turned back to me. "Lesson number one," he started. "You''re in what is called a sanctuary. In a way, they are alternate dimensions. In another, they are black holes only assessable by one specific mind. In this case, we are in the black hole that is only accessible by your lovely ignorant mind."


    "You did hijack my mind!" I exclaimed. Fear was flooding my bloodstream.


    Hawk shrugged as much as he could in his positioning. "You could say that." I snarled at him, at his amusement. He ignored my agitation, looking up around us. "At its core, the sanctuary looks like this. It''s a blank tablet. It''s a whole lot of nothingness, until you start constructing. From there, everything and anything is possible. Your default setting was Paris, which tells me the city has some significance for you. You could create any city you wanted out of your imagination, color outside of the lines."


    Growling, I slammed my head upwards. It connected with Hawk''s chin. It provided the distraction I needed, and for milliseconds, Hawk''s hold on my wrists loosened. It was enough for me to squirm out from underneath him. I scrambled to my feet. For moments, I was hampered by disorientation. I was standing in the middle of the darkness with nothing to orient myself to. I swayed on my feet, losing my equilibrium. Then Paris slammed down around me. Hawk and I were back in the shadows of Arc de Triomphe.


    Fear still gripping my gut, I fled. I forgot about the walking pace I had previously used. I was severely frightened now. My thoughts were in chaos. This wasn''t a coincidence. I knew that there was some connection between the massacre and this hijacking. I needed to find a way to escape this... whatever this was.


    I ran to one of the bridges crossing the Seine. As I ran, I realized that all the overly enthusiastic bystanders had disappeared. Paris was vacant. My feet pounded on the bridge. I had been on this very one many times before. It was distinguished by the millions of locks hanging from its infrastructure, placed there by a million lovers. When I reached the apex of the bridge, a force snatched me back from my forward progress and flung me against the railing. My back curved against the rail. I stared up at Hawk.


    "Lesson number two, never turn your back on your enemy," Hawk snarled. His breath was close to my face. "My captors are not to be trusted, and the sooner you learn this lesson, the better."


    "And you can be trusted?" I breathed.


    "Yes."


    I swallowed. "Then send me back. Show me that you can be trusted. Let me go."


    Conflict distorted his features. Then his hands slipped down from where they were pressing against my shoulders to just above my elbows. He squeezed once. "I''m not a monster," he muttered softly. "You''ll come back. You could create your own worlds, your own universes. You won''t be able to resist the possibilities."


    Paris faded from reality.


    The next time I opened my eyes, I was back in a hospital room, all my limbs restrained to the bed. My vision was blurry and thoughts foggy. A security guard sat against the room''s threshold; her gaze was focused on her cell phone. I relaxed and allowed myself to be consumed by the ketamine that was still in my bloodstream. The sanctuary and its strange male were just a drug-induced dream.

 SIX

    Four years later.


    "Time for morning count! Please get up, get dressed, and stand at your door with your ID. Failure to do so will result in a shift lockdown."


    Internally, I groaned. The announcement¡ªwhich was given daily around the same time every single day¡ªcame too soon. I had entered deep sleep only a couple of hours ago when the screamer and banger from a couple of cells over had finally stopped. Even though it was just a deflated and flimsy mattress, cotton sheets, and two wool blankets, I had adjusted to it, and it was the most comfortable area in my cell. My body protested as I sat up and blindly reached for the pair of red pants on the floor. I pulled them on as I stumbled over to the cell door and leaned against the wall. My eyes drifted shut as I waited for the officers to walk by with their count sheets.


    I knew I didn¡¯t even have to follow through with the procedures; instead, if I wanted to, I could have just remained where I was. For administrative segregation inmates like myself, the country protected our daily one hour out of our cages. Shift lockdowns for failing to comply with count procedures didn''t apply to us.


    Five minutes later, I heard the approaching footsteps and the pass-through door slamming shut to separate the different custody levels during the day. Seconds afterwards, an officer peeked inside of my cell. He knew exactly where I would be because he had been assigned to the pod for the past five months. His metal nameplate read Silverton. He was one of the newer officers working at the detention facility. His uniform was still crisp, as if it had a weekly dry cleaner''s appointment, and his boots were always polished. His hair was shaved close to his skull, and his facial expressions were always gruffly serious, informing me he had some military background and had pursued the law enforcement path. He would be one of the ones who would disappear from pod life when he was snatched up by the patrol bureau. In the pod, he was one who hadn¡¯t yet lost his motivation from all the drama that came with managing female inmates. I had been here long enough to see the transformation of the fresh-eyed, eager officer into the jaded robot with a severe temper. If they lasted long enough, they transformed into the apathetic and lazy officers.


    Officer Silverton''s glance lasted three seconds before he moved on to the cell next to mine. I didn''t know her name, but at least she was quiet. Some of my past neighbors were disruptively disobedient and required the officers to extract them from the cell. I had been present for cell floodings, feces being thrown on the officers, and attempted escapes. My current neighbor was nothing like the others. I had nicknamed her Mousey. Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it when she spoke to the officers. She was dressed in blue, which alerted me she had been classified as low risk. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, and projected an aura of innocence. I wondered what she had done to first get herself incarcerated, and then how she had ended up in segregation. I would never receive that information, as other inmates were prohibited from approaching my cell. Not that it had stopped them at the beginning. Several times, I had urine and feces flung underneath my door.


    The sound of keys tapping against the cell door was followed quickly by, "Saheli, get up!" This was another common occurrence in the morning. There wasn¡¯t much that the officers could do in this dayroom to enforce the count rule.


    I pushed away from the wall. It was all part of the routine of the past four years as my case progressed. That was all what jail was: a routine. You learn it, you accept it, and you don¡¯t dare deviate from it.


    When my breakfast was brought to me¡ªconsisting of gruel, a blueberry muffin square, a sausage patty, and black coffee¡ªI mindlessly fed myself. I had learned to look past my disgust with the gruel¡¯s consistency as I used the red rubber spoon to transport it from the tray to my mouth. The nurse and her escorting officer appeared at my cell soon after. Its food slot tray was unlocked and yanked down. I accepted the medley of medication, brought the pile up to my mouth, took the swig of water, and pretended to swallow. I had perfected concealing the medication deep in the pit in between my teeth and jaw, so that when I opened my mouth and lifted my tongue, the officer would be none the wiser.


    When the officer and nurse walked away, I spat out the medication. There were the standard depression and anxiety pills, which I flushed down the toilet. I kept the two hard narcotic pills and placed them with my hidden stash in the wall. When they searched my cell, the officers never scrutinized the wall where I had dug out a thin line deep enough to conceal the pills. It was difficult to get to unless you were laying supine on the bunk, and officers never did that. Besides that, I kept my behavior polite and my cell even cleaner. Both kept the cell searches to a minimum.


    The dayroom television was on the national news to provide distraction. This morning, it was loud enough that I could hear it from my cell. In the middle of the announcements about Queen Elizabeth II supporting a new prime minister rising to office and coverage on a Los Angeles manhunt for a gunman,there was a blurb about me. The jury¡¯s still out about Briara Disraeli, the perpetrator behind the Union Station Massacre. It¡¯s been three days since the jury left the courtroom to begin deliberations. There seems to be some confusion whether she was truly insane at the time of the incident, and if the defense did their job, Disraeli will be acquitted of murdering one hundred four people and injuring many more. If the defense gets the jury to declare Briara Disraeli innocent by the reason of insanity, it would be quite a feat since they were missing one of their key witnesses. I narrowed my eyes at the last part and suffocated the betrayal I felt rising within me over the reminder.


    I started pacing my cell. I tried reading a book, though I couldn''t concentrate. Then mid-morning, the announcement came.


    "Disraeli, get ready for court," the civilian employee communicated through my cell¡¯s intercom. I answered with a simple okay. My stomach twisted in on itself.


    The jury had finally reached a verdict.


    I turned to face the small mirror nailed to the wall over the steel toilet. The mirror was scratched in the lower left corner by some previous occupant and was about the size of a paperback novel. My reflection was blurry, as the mirror was not made of real glass. I ran my plastic comb down the length of my hair, unraveling a few tangles. When that was done, I placed my hair up into a bun. Normally, I kept my hair in braids or down. My attorneys had recommended pulling it back in order to convey professionalism in the courtroom. For the most part, that was all the preparations I could do at this point. Makeup was unavailable.


    Soon, it was time. They had to shut down the entire dayroom for me. Despite what I had been accused of, they had a responsibility of keeping me safe. Even if the jury declared I was guilty. I was not the most popular inmate in the Denver City Jail. There were many who hissed insults at me and banged on their cell doors when I walked by. It had happened so much that I had become accustomed to it. I had learned how to keep my body language impassive, understanding that the others only wanted to prompt me into reacting so that they could write home and gossip about the crazy girl who was in cell A8. Yet, behind their cell doors, they could not hurt me. It were girls like Mousey, who stared at me with empathy written across their faces, that disoriented me.


    Officers met me outside in the main area of the pod. I immediately turned to the wall and kicked up one of my legs. Steel encircled the ankle with the matching piece encircling the other ankle. A metal chain connected the two of them, slowing my pace immensely. One officer patted me down. Two female officers¡ªthe same ones who were usually assigned to me¡ªescorted me to where my courtroom clothes were. They waited outside of the bland changing room as I changed into the suit my attorneys had procured for me. We had repeated the same steps repeatedly in the past three months that everyone knew what they were doing, what their tasks were. Once I was dressed in normal clothing, we were ready to proceed to the courtroom.


    For a day and a half, I had waited in my cell for the jury''s verdict. I had tried to keep myself busy and my mind off my fate, which was being held in twelve strangers'' hands. My attorneys had faith that they had done enough to convince the jury that I had truly gone insane in those moments of the massacre. Although they had tried to instill their faith in me, I was uncertain after watching the jury''s faces throughout the trial. The witnesses¡¯ accounts, victims¡¯ painful stories of how their permanent injuries would affect the rest of their lives, and crime scene photos were too much. I had struggled against visibly crying during the prosecution¡¯s parade of witnesses and gory photos. There was no way that the jury would be on my side. They had been deliberating for twelve hours, and according to my attorneys, the extended length was in my favor. They were hoping that they could rescue me from life in prison and instead make me a permanent resident of the state hospital.


    Within twenty minutes, I was sitting with officers, the audience, my attorneys, and the prosecution. My attorneys were kind to me, as they had been at the start. Ava gave her usual chipper "hello", while Lucas smiled at me. As we waited for the jury, they spent the time working on their laptops. Judge McKenna and the court clerks divided their attention between their monitors and cell phones. All I could do was wait for the jury to be paraded in. Skye, who was sitting in the pew directly behind the defendant''s table, gave me a meager thumbs up and smiled. My smile in return was shaky. You''re going to be okay, she mouthed. I nodded. My twisted stomach contradicted her words. I suddenly wished I had skipped that breakfast gruel.


    After fifteen minutes of waiting, the jury returned to the courtroom. I studied their faces like I had been taught. Their gazes were directed everywhere but at the defense table. The courtroom and its side conversations hushed as the jury took their seats.


    Judge McKenna addressed them. "Will the jury¡¯s foreperson please stand?" A woman in the front row of the jury box stood, the verdict papers clutched in her hand. She was middle-aged, and I would have wagered that she had at least a couple of children she had to care for at home. Her hair had been styled into curls that bobbed behind her shoulders; she wore a fuchsia button-up sweater and black slacks. "Have you arrived at a verdict?"


    The woman hesitated before she announced, "We have, your honor." The bailiff collected the papers from the woman and passed them to the judge. Judge McKenna glanced at the papers before making the declarations. "On count one, murder in the first degree, the jury finds the defendant guilty."


    There were one hundred three other counts, plus the assault charges. Nothing would change with the verdicts. If they had found me guilty on the first count, I would be found guilty on the rest of them. It was over. I tuned out the rest of the verdicts. Frozen, my gaze lingered on the massive tubs filled with trial paperwork Skye had helped my defense team organize. I had spent countless hours with them over the past couple of years going over every piece of paper in those tubs. Some were copies of the evidence the defense had entered into the trial. Others were copies of the prosecution''s discovery. There were the papers recording the different motions set into place prior to the trial. My team had fought a long and uphill battle for me, only to be defeated by the American criminal justice system.


    When I was little, I never thought my future would encompass spending life in a prison cell.


    My birth had been undocumented. There were a couple of police reports and newspaper articles recording the occurrence of a woman fleeing the hospital with her newborn daughter. After a week, that became old news when no one could find the mother and newborn. It was unprecedented, as women did not have too much energy to walk, much less flee after hours of labor. Yet, my mother had a warrior mindset. She had been alone for the duration of her pregnancy and lacked a permanent residence. As I developed in her uterus, my mother disappeared into anonymity within the landscapes of large European cities like Paris and London. She took long train rides from Madrid to Florence to Zagreb. She spent the end of her second trimester in Russia before vacationing in Bali at the beginning of her third. She waddled around for as long as she could around Dresden''s old cobblestone streets. By the time her nine months were up, my mother was in Denver, Colorado.


    She was staying in a hotel downtown when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Before she could even sit down on the toilet, a gush of water left her and landed in between her feet. For seconds, she stared at it, perplexed. Then the realization occurred to her, and she packed up her meager belongings. She checked out of the hotel, assuring the receptionist she didn''t need an ambulance to take her to the emergency room. "The baby won¡¯t be coming in the next hour. I want to enjoy the Christmas lights before I have to deal with that pain," she had added. Even though my mother had entered the first phrase of labor, she left the hotel and waddled the ten blocks to the hospital underneath the trees decorated with Christmas lights.


    The emergency room and OBGYN department didn''t have any records on my mother. She was a walk-in patient, already in the throes of labor. There was only enough time for the staff to get her name and ensure she didn''t have any known medical issues that would compromise the labor. She told them her name was Madeleine Walton, which was one of the aliases she liked to use. When the staff asked her about her prior care, Madeleine had informed them she had gone through her entire pregnancy without any prenatal care. As much as the doctors and nurses wanted to know the reasoning behind the lack of prenatal care, there wasn''t much time. The waddling journey from the hotel to the hospital had been a stalling technique to avoid an interrogation by the hospital staff. There was a rush in getting my mother checked into the hospital and hooked up to the machines. While a nurse questioned her about her medical history, another nurse was securing a heartbeat monitor around Madeleine¡¯s belly and attempting to get a last-minute ultrasound done. Another nurse was taking blood samples from my mother, as yet another was trying to discover if Madeleine had any insurance.


    With some complications during the birth, I was born on December Twenty-First at three fifty-eight in the morning. I say complications, because as the doctor and nurses were encouraging my mother to push and work past the contractions, she wasn¡¯t even fully mentally there. Madeleine would tell me when I was older that I had died in the middle of my birth. She could sense my soul leaving in the swarm of chaos surrounding her. Nurses held her legs open as the doctor watched for the crowning of my head. Another nurse manned the washcloth to keep Madeleine¡¯s body cool. None of them separated her panicked cries from the screams produced by pain. No one knew¡ªexcept her¡ªthat I would not survive the birth.


    Madeleine would later tell me how she rescued me as our own type of bedtime faery tale. She said she retreated into herself and concentrated on pulling my soul back into my fragile form. Over the years, the faery tale became so exaggerated, it became our own joke. She had to battle dragons, vampires, faeries, shapeshifters, and witches to reach my soul, which she could hear crying from afar. She had to battle all these enemies using magic and her wits, only to find that a goddess was protecting me. The goddess handed me back to my mother, who had proven herself as a solid protector. My mother would always finish it with the same phrase: For all the evers, for all the infinities, for all the infinite stars in the sky. That would be the end, and I would fall asleep dreaming of a fantasy realm where magic existed. In the bright light of day, Madeleine was adamant that the dragons and faeries were just fiction, and that she saved me with the power of her mind.


    In the hospital room, Madeleine returned to herself with the final push. The doctor caught me in his waiting hands. His face fell with devastation when he noticed I was not breathing. He barked emergency protocol orders. A nurse exclaimed that I had been alive in the womb when they had done that quick ultrasound and was adamant that she had heard a heartbeat. The umbilical cord was cut immediately, and the doctor was rushing me to the resuscitation area when I started crying. Startled, he brought me to the scale to complete a closer inspection. The moment he laid me down, another distraction pulled him and the staff away from me. My mother was never clear about what the distraction was. She would always shrug and claim, "I don¡¯t know" when I turned my curiosity on her, especially when I realized that there was little that could pull health care professionals away from a newborn who had not been breathing when she exited the womb.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The hospital room empty, Madeleine disconnected herself from the machines. She grabbed a blanket and pressed it in between her legs to staunch the bleeding right before she seized her pants. She threw her bag over her shoulder, swaddled me in the baby blanket, and walked out of the room. I¡¯m not sure how she got out of the hospital without being harassed by at least a security guard. She just walked back out onto Denver¡¯s streets an hour after entering the hospital. It was that easy to ensure that the only record of my birth were those news articles and police reports. My name was not documented anywhere. As far as the universe knew, I didn¡¯t exist, and that was how my mother preferred it.


    For the next eight years, I lacked a formal residence. Madeleine declared it was because of the monster lurking in the shadows. Sometimes, I wondered if my mother was paranoid over nothing; psychologists would have diagnosed her with some kind of mental health illness if she ever spoke to them about this monster. She definitely felt like there was something lurking in the shadows; it was in how she would look over her shoulder whenever we were about to board in a crowded train terminal or when she spontaneously told me we were leaving our current temporary home because her instincts had informed her that the monster had found us. She was the one who implemented the rule of never staying in one place longer than seven days. Sometimes, it was difficult to believe her, especially when she dismissed my imagination so easily. The monster had never attacked us. I had never seen any signs of him, either.


    You could say that I had a lonely childhood. Madeleine tried her best to ensure I had everything I needed, though sometimes she found that trying to give me everything I wanted was impossible. My childhood friends were imaginary. I may have painted besides a girl in Africa, or helped a boy build a snowman in Switzerland, but I was soon a fragment in their memories, and they in mine.


    My material possessions were limited to what I could fit in a backpack. Clothes, hygiene items, books, and toys all had to fit in a backpack, or else they had to be left behind. Once, I tried to leave all my clothes behind; my mother put a stop to it and mandated that all my clothes had to be in the backpack. I threw a tantrum, and the consequence was that I had to leave behind all the toys I had acquired throughout our travels. I quickly learned how to live with less and how to value what I had. It was easier to travel with less, after all. I was always leaving something behind, only to acquire something newer.


    My mother had to get creative with my schooling. None of her lessons were formal, and she didn''t follow a lesson plan. Whatever she taught depended on where we were for that week, and it was always hands-on. A similar concept was applied to languages. She had the capability of conversing as if she was a native, no matter what the language was. Thus, she always spoke the national language of wherever we happened to be. At first, as a young child trying to grasp the concept of verbal communication, it was a challenge to comprehend why we were always changing our language. It assisted with learning geography, customs, and culture, however.


    While other children were learning history from presentations and blurbs in a textbook, I got to wander around the Louvre, the National History Museum in London, and the Uffizi Gallery. I saw the Statue of David and Notre Dame with my own eyes. I touched the Berlin Wall and the sand of Normandy Beach with my own hands. Having to deal with currency exchanges taught me math. Often, my mother would quiz me on the exchange rates and inquire how many Euros we would get from turning in Japanese Yens. We visited zoos, forests, and dinosaur museums to learn about animals.


    It wasn¡¯t until later when she went on the offensive with the obscure, lurking monster. Except for those emergent times when we had to leave immediately for the airport or train station, my mother had kept us one step ahead of the monster. For the first five years of my life, Madeleine was not comfortable enough to fight him; her primary concern was getting me to a self-functional age. However, when I started becoming more self-efficient, she threw herself into her research with fierce determination. Almost every single night, Madeleine waited until I went to bed before she spent hours flipping through the books she had found and reviewing her notes. When she couldn¡¯t take the books with her, we spent entire days in libraries.


    "Ms. Disraeli, we will schedule your sentencing hearing in three weeks. Let''s come back on August 15, 2019, at ten AM,¡± Judge McKenna addressed my table, drawing me out of my reverie. Disorientated, I realized the jury had already departed. Right on cue, Ava pushed back strands of her blonde hair behind her ears before scheduling the date on her computer. Her jaw was locked with disappointment over the verdict.


    Judge McKenna continued, "Until then, I want you, Ms. Disraeli, to think on these past four years, as well as all the testimony you¡¯ve heard in these past three months. I am willing to give you an opportunity to make a statement to the court, perhaps containing an apology for all the lives you took, as well as come forward with what substance you consumed the day of the massacre. I hope you take this time I¡¯m giving you to make the right choice. Despite you not having any permanent recorded history or records until four years ago, despite you not having any family due to your mother passing away when you were eight, I¡¯m giving you a chance to prove yourself. I truly believe that you are a good person at heart, and that drug you took controlled you, ruined your life. I want you to think long and hard about telling me what specific drug it was and where you got it so we can start accumulating intelligence on it to prevent the next massacre."


    Judge McKenna stared directly at me. Her gaze was stern and unyielding, yet there was something motherly about it.


    Common belief was that I was not acting in my right mind that day, and I had consumed an unknown illegal drug that had caused me to go on a murderous rampage. To prevent it from happening to another person, and thus causing more deaths, the court tried to get me to tell them what drug it was. I could have lied and made up a substance. Instead, I told them the truth. As far as I knew, I had nothing in my bloodstream.


    Judge McKenna nodded once at the entire courtroom in dismissal, her shoulder-length brown hair obstructing her glasses. She gathered her pile of paperwork, stood up, pivoted, and departed through the private door behind her seat. With her departure, the courtroom erupted in chatter behind me.


    "Come on." One officer¡ªOfficer Sterling¡ªbehind me ordered.


    As I was standing up, Lucas assured me, "We¡¯ll be by to visit this week. Keep your head up."


    Skye leaned over the half wall dividing the courtroom. "There are always appeals." She had believed me when I had told her there had been nothing in my system that day. She always believed there was good in me.


    My attempted smile came out more as a wobbly grimace. While I appreciated their concern, I didn''t know why they would still bother when the entire trial was over, and they had lost. Sterling took control of my right elbow and walked behind me as we walked towards one of the private doors linking the courtroom to the secured area. I was acutely aware of cameramen towards the back of the room, filming my exit. Only a limited amount had been allowed in the courtroom during the trial. Together, they got enough footage to hand over to news outlets. I relied on the compartmentalizing lessons I had learned when I was younger. I was an expert in keeping my face neutral and tears bottled in.


    I felt worse for my defense team and all the effort they had put into my trial. Ava, Lucas, and Skye all believed that they could convince the jury that I had had a momentary lapse of insanity. After all, it made a lot more sense than what my original theories were.


    After I had returned from the state hospital with my psych prescriptions, Ava and Lucas met with me in a private visitation room at the jail. To my immense surprise, Skye was sitting at the table with them. My awareness of who was watching curtailed my desire to embrace her. I didn''t want to cause a black wave of officers to converge on us just because I was hugging my friend. Skye was attired in a suit set that I had seen her wearing whenever she had her mock trial days at school; it was as if she already belonged with the firm. My eyes wide, I exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"


    Skye''s grin stretched across her face. "What? You aren''t happy to see me?" she teased.


    "She was the surprise I was referring to when we met before you got moved to the state hospital," Ava advised. "Skye reached out to my father and asked if she could do an internship with the firm. There was some fear over conflict of interest, and the matter of whether we would use her as a character witness. We still decided to bring her on. She''s here to handle the administrative aspects of your case."


    I blinked against the wetness in my eyes. "What about school?"


    Skye produced a one-shouldered shrug. "I''m getting credit for interning here, and I¡¯m transferring to the University of Denver next semester. I figure that I''m going to learn more here than in a classroom. How are you holding up?"


    "I''m hanging in there," I answered. "Some days are rougher than others. But if I stay in bed and refuse to eat all day, they tend to take drastic action and I''ll end up on suicide watch, which will make things worse."


    "We don''t want you to die, either," Ava declared. "We''ve gotten the transcripts and video from your interrogation and your competency evaluation reports." Lucas motioned to the stack of papers already on the table in between us. There were more bins sitting behind him, all of which were filled with paperwork. They had been busy preparing all the documents while I had been gone. An expensive-looking laptop sat in front of Lucas. I had known the law firm taking my case was prestigious and expensive, and I wondered if the cost was worth it considering the evidence against me. "Some of the psychiatrists you spoke to at the hospital noted that it is a possibility you are walking around with undiagnosed PTSD¡ªperhaps from your mother''s death¡ªand something happened to set it off, causing the memory lapse at the massacre. Some believe you suffered from a brief psychotic disorder that day."


    I stared down at the table. My hands were clasped together tightly in my lap. They turned cold as I realized it was me they were pairing psychotic disorders with. We had separated ourselves: I sat on one side of the table, while they sat on the other as one collective group. Our clothing was obviously different; my red uniform was garish against their grays and blacks. "You mean you want me to put in an insanity plea?" I questioned. The dark tone of my voice reflected my opinion of it.


    Ava met my stare straight on. "It''s our best approach. We don''t believe we will get a plea deal from the DA, unless it''s related to a full disclosure of the controlled substances."


    "I didn''t take anything beforehand," I argued. My frustration boiled my blood.


    Skye and Lucas both looked away, uncomfortable. Ava was the only one who could handle confronting me. "I believe you, but the DA is convinced you did. There was something that popped up on your blood work."


    "What?"


    Ava shook her head. "No one knows. The DA has experts claiming it is some unknown drug in the stimulant category."


    "I didn¡¯t take anything," I expressed again. I knew I was guilty of the massacre; still, keeping my innocence intact over this minor issue was important to me. I brought my hands up to press against my eyes. My fingers crept into my hair, pressing against my skull.


    "Briara." Skye interjected. Her hand crept across the table, breaching the no man''s space in between me and them. "We have some scientists testing the samples, too."


    I lowered my hands from my eyes, though not enough to uncover the bottom half of my face. "Who?"


    Skye shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Xavier."


    I stared at her. "You brought Xavier into this?" My voice rose with the exclamation.


    "We thought he would be motivated to help!"


    "We have other scientists looking into the samples, as well," Ava offered.


    "Xavier hates me," I groaned.


    Skye shook her head. "No. He was just hurt, that''s all. Remember that text message he sent the night of the incident? He still cares for you!" I remembered his text message quite well, along with the fact that I never responded to it because I felt guilty over having sex with Jay and the chaotic state of my thoughts at the time. My throat constricted over the thought that we would never get to meet over espresso at Killebrew.


    "How do you know about that?" I groaned.


    "It was all over the news."


    "Of course, it was.¡± I flattened my forehead against my palm. My thoughts were racing. All the sudden, this trial seemed like I was about to climb Everest without any training.


    Ava took the opportunity of the silence to steer us back on task. "Think about my suggestion about the plea. If we can get the jury to believe what we do¡ªthat you are not guilty by reason of insanity¡ªyou could live a better life than being locked up in prison for the rest of your life."


    "I will still be locked up."


    Ava nodded. "Yes. In a mental institution."


    I shut my eyes, as if doing so would quash my lingering fate. A part of me had not accepted that I would be locked up regardless of whether I was declared sane or insane; it had some hope that I would be declared innocent despite the contrary evidence. "Aren''t there other leads? Other investigations being conducted?" I inquired. It felt as if my heart was twisting inside of me. Something that would exonerate me? I was afraid to say.


    Skye''s eyebrow arched, perplexed. My heart twisted over the fact that even she didn''t believe I was purely innocent. Yet, she let Ava answer for them. "What other investigations are you thinking of?"


    I hesitated. Yet, I was encouraged by the fear of being imprisoned for the rest of my life. I knew I was shooting in the dark. Three curious, perplexed faces stared at me, waiting. I opened my mouth and confided, "Galileo was meeting three men in Denver during my competition. He was concerned about our safety. He believed the men were dangerous. Jay and I were supposed to stay at Union Station."


    "Where was the meeting supposed to take place?" Ava asked. She had settled her chin on a platform of her hands while her elbows were on the table. Lucas''s fingers moved quickly on the mouse pad of his laptop. Skye''s gaze was focused on its screen.


    "The Thirsty Lion."


    "Galileo was amongst the dead," Ava said, her eyebrows furrowed. "Was the meeting over or was there another reason why he was in Union Station?"


    I swallowed. These people are advocating for you, I reminded myself. "The meeting got interrupted. The men he was meeting ended it."


    "Why?"


    I shrugged, conveying a sense of innocent ignorance. There was some information that should remain omitted. Telling them about the real purpose for being at the competition would open the Pandora''s Box of questions. I wasn''t prepared to venture down that avenue. "I never got the chance to ask Galileo," I said instead, with the right amount of sadness in my voice.


    "Were these men in Union Station at the time of the massacre?" Lucas questioned.


    "I don''t know." This time, I answered honestly.


    Lucas turned his laptop partly around so I could see the screen at an angle. On it, he had the Union Station cameras pulled up. They presented several views. The video was paused. A quick glance at the timestamp in the bottom corner informed me that the video was paused ten seconds before the official time of the massacre. On one of the still frames, I could see myself tripping over my feet, and Jay reaching out to grab me to prevent the impending fall. "Can you see them anywhere here?" Lucas questioned. I bent over the table to get closer to the laptop screen. My eyes skimmed the frames, searching for the three men in the suits. As the seconds disappeared, my heartbeat increased with my desperation. If I could point out the men, I could get the law firm to open an investigation into them, and then maybe my innocence would not be farfetched. Maybe they were behind the massacre and framed me. There was video footage of me destroying everything in the vicinity. Yet, maybe the men did something to me to cause it.


    After a couple of minutes, I was forced to conclude no, the men were not on the premises at the time of the massacre. Disappointed and frustrated, I leaned back in the plastic chair. All my hope had vanished for moments as my mind raced. Then I remembered the compass. Galileo had put us in danger of retrieving it; there had to be some significance beyond its navigational purposes. I wondered if it was a weapon of its own kind. I had been clutching it before, during, and after the massacre. Maybe something prompted it to activate. I clung to this desperate denial. I perked up and asked, "What about our property at the hotel? Did they take all of that into evidence?"


    "Yes," Ava said, frowning. "It can be rather difficult to get something out of evidence while the case is open, much less the jail allowing you to have it with you in here."


    I shook my head. "No. I had something in my hands during the massacre. A compass. I thought it was just a regular compass. Maybe it was a weapon. I didn''t know it was a weapon. It was Galileo''s. I was just retrieving it for him," I rambled on until I realized I should remain quiet. Even if Ava, Skye, and Lucas were on my side, telling them any more would only prompt more questions about Galileo''s missions, which I couldn''t answer.


    Ava looked sadly at me. "It''s already been looked into," she claimed. I stared at her in shock. She pulled one of the big binders towards her. After considering its divider tabs, she chose one of the orange ones towards the back and flipped the binder open to that area. She presented it to me. On the top page, I saw a photograph of the compass Galileo had me steal. Underneath the photograph, a report of double-spaced text started. I lost all reading comprehension as I stared at the page, and Ava launched into an explanation.


    "The investigators noticed you were holding something in your hands and could determine that it was the compass. While you were at the state hospital, they performed tests on it. The reports aren''t that interesting, unless you are interested in the compass''s composition. Basically, the compass is not a weapon." Ava paused. I could feel her stare on my face as she considered her next statement. When she said it, it was in a soft, comforting tone. "Do you truly believe in the deepest part of your heart that you are innocent?"


    I blinked. My hands became so cold that I wondered if they would transform into icicles. I could feel Skye''s gaze on my face. "It doesn''t matter, does it?" I questioned; my voice as soft as hers. "All the evidence says otherwise."


    "Then we fight for the insanity plea," Ava declared.


    I sat there quietly for the rest of that meeting, and the ones following it, as my attorneys pieced together the defense for my trial. The denial within me had melted into silent acceptance.

 SEVEN

    In a matter of minutes, I was back in my red uniform and walking through the empty dayroom. Up on the upper tier, at the end of the row of cells, the door to A8 slid open from an electronic command coming from the control tower. It was my destination, my focus, as I worked to ignore the harassment coming from the other inmates in the same block of solitary confinement.


    The banging and insults that came my way as I walked to my cell were to be expected; they all knew I had been awaiting the verdict. What I was surprised about was that they already knew what it was. Apparently, the news had traveled to the dayroom quicker than I had. "Guilty!" A couple of females shouted at me from behind the cell doors. Another taunted, "I hope they roast you in the chair, punk ass bitch!" as I walked by her cell. I wanted to snap back and tell her that Colorado hadn¡¯t killed anyone for decades. Instead, I kept my eyes focused on my cell, which had become a retreat for me. "Just wait until I meet you at prison... there won¡¯t be any segregation to protect you there! I¡¯m going to shank you the moment I see you. Right in the gut!"


    My jaw was vibrating just as I stepped over the threshold of my cell. I breathed out a sigh of relief as my cell door slid shut. It was the only thing between me and the other inmates in this jail. While Galileo had trained me well enough that I could protect myself against assault, I didn¡¯t want to tempt the odds. Shanks were just another knife, and knives were difficult to defend against.


    I turned towards my cell window to peer out into the dayroom. The dayroom''s television was on one of the news channels. The verdict fell under breaking news. There was footage of me walking out of the courtroom. The clip was short, and when it was done, it was replaced by a reporter and a very familiar face. Although he had visited me only once in these past four years, only to throw accusations around, and he had nothing to do with the massacre, his was a face that became extremely associated with my crime. The black label on the screen reminded viewers of his name: Xavier Palacios. Since the last time I had seen him, the edges around his tanned face had gained a sharpness. There had always been a determined, obsessive glint in his eye. This had only increased as he continued with an investigation of his own.


    "The jury has declared Disraeli, your ex-girlfriend, guilty of all counts against her. What''s your opinion of this?" the reporter asked him. They had Xavier sitting across from the reporter in an enclosed set. The reporter was clean cut and wearing a suit.


    Xavier''s lips twitched as one of his dark eyebrows lifted. "We''ve all seen the footage from that day. I think it is pretty clear she was behind the attack."


    "Her defense team was working the insanity angle, while the prosecution believed she had ingested some unknown drug."


    Xavier''s lips formed a small, bitter smile. "Bria did like to say that she was fucked up in the head from time to time, unlovable and such. Threw out she was aromantic a couple of times, too. Her introversion limited her friend circle. Yet, I have never believed Bria suffered from a psychosis episode at the time of the incident, despite what the defense''s expert witnesses testified to on the stand. As for the prosecution''s theory about the drugs, besides alcohol socially and a sampling of edibles, Bria was never familiar with the drug scene. She hasn''t even had a cigarette or cigar."


    "Now you had access to the blood draw Judge McKenna ordered at the very beginning."


    "I did. Someone from Bria''s defense team approached me when they got the sample for discovery," Xavier confirmed. I crossed my arms and leaned against the door with my shoulder to take the weight off my feet. Skye had been the one who had contacted Xavi and requested him to run an analysis on the sample. She never thought it would backfire in our faces as it had. "I am a biochemist, so I had some basic knowledge on the forensic science part of what they were asking of me. I agreed because I was partly curious myself."


    "You wanted to see if you had just proposed to a psychopath?" the reporter rephrased.


    Xavier shrugged. "Bria was not a killer when I knew her. She''d suck up a spider with a vacuum hose if it was inside of her house, but she never harmed anyone or even fantasized about doing it. She couldn''t care less about guns." I snorted over his lack of knowledge. I had given my fair share of bruises in fights while on missions for Galileo. "The fact that she just went out and killed all those people... it still boggles my mind."


    "I can only imagine," the reporter sympathized. "As well as what you found out afterwards. That had to be difficult."


    "That she was found naked in bed with someone I didn''t know?" A darkened expression overwhelmed his features. "Yeah, Bria was keeping some secrets from me."


    "It seems like you dodged a bullet."


    "A tsunami, actually."


    "So, what did you discover when you analyzed her blood?"


    Xavier took a deep breath and refocused himself. "It''s true that there is some unknown element to it that I haven''t seen in other samples. The prosecution''s scientists believed they were seeing the same kind of cellular reaction in Bria''s blood as is seen when subjects take methamphetamine, fentanyl, or cocaine. However, when they did their toxicity tests on the blood sample, no known drug could be located."


    "Thus, why they theorized it was a new drug. Perhaps one that is being produced on the black market?"


    "I don''t think they went deep enough; I think that their analysis was quite superficial. In my research, I went into the core of the cell. Whatever this unique element is, it''s in her DNA. It''s a part of her. But it isn''t... human. Or human in the way we are familiar with."


    "What does that mean?"


    "I''m still working on that."


    The reporter''s disbelief was sketched across his face. This was the very reason Ava, Lucas, and Skye all ruled against putting Xavier on the witness stand. It was just too insane for the jury to fathom. It brought too many unnecessary questions into the courtroom. Yet, because Xavier was the man who proposed to the Union Station killer, and the only person connected to the case who would speak to the media, he was often on the screen. Xavier didn''t care about the fame that he had received being the ex-boyfriend of the mass murderer. He wanted answers, and he wanted to talk to someone about his discoveries. Skye informed me that while Xavier had devoted his entire life to discovering what was going on with my blood, his social circle had capsized.


    Rolling my eyes and no longer interested, I turned from the cell door and considered my cell. At twelve feet by six feet, it was by no means a suite. I had already come to terms that it was my fate I would be stuck in such a space for twenty-three hours a day until the day I died. At first, I reacted badly to the news, and ended up in a suicide gown more than once, chaired three times, and injected with ketamine several times. Four years had gone by, and I had lost the motivation to care.


    While I had been at court, the officers had searched my cell. This, too, was to be expected. Whoever it was had been respectful, at least. There were some officers who left the cell as if a tornado had just rampaged through, and my clothes, commissary, and books would be scattered across the floor, with my sheets and blankets ripped from my mattress. This time, the disturbances were subtle. My commissary and book stacks were a little off-kilter. One book, an advanced physics one, was on the desk by itself and no longer in the stack. My folded clothes were a couple of inches away from where I had left them in the corner, and my trash can had been emptied. I didn¡¯t have any concerns that they had located my stash of psych meds. They hadn¡¯t in the past, nor would they ever.


    I stood, staring at my picture wall. Sometimes, it was gut-wrenching to even glance at it. It reminded me of what I had lost. Skye''s contribution was an old photo from when we had just graduated from high school. Our navy graduation robes and hats were sliding off our bodies while Skye pulled me into an enormous hug. Never mind that our hands were full of our diplomas and the flowers Skye''s parents had purchased for both of us, and our minds filled with all our massive aspirations.


    One picture was the only picture I had from the days my mother had been alive. For my eighth birthday, we had been in Berlin, and she had splurged on dinner at the Berliner Fernsehturm. Using my mother¡¯s cell phone, our server had captured the moment before I blew out the candles on my chocolate cake. My posture was eagerly upright and leaning towards the cake. The chef had written, Happy Birthday, Bria! with chocolate sauce on the long plate it was on. The cake¡¯s candles lit up the freckles on my elated face while illuminating the red velvet of my dress. Some of my curls had slipped forward and past my ears. My mother was angled behind me. Her long dark hair was secured in a long ponytail, and she had chosen a white sweater and black pants to wear to this special dinner. She had a half-smile. Her eyes revealed how distracted she was; her mind wasn¡¯t at that dinner. By then, she was knee deep in her research against the monster. Half of her mind was still with her books and discoveries. Six months later, I would lose her to that monster.


    My eyes drifted over to one of the other photographs Jay had salvaged after the district attorney decided that there was not enough evidence to charge Jay with conspiracy and abetting. He was released from custody, free to continue his life, to move on. This photograph was of the family I had gained after my mother died. It was a family by choice and circumstance, as only Galileo and Kit were tied together by blood. Before her death, Madeleine had confided to Galileo about the evil lurking in the shadows. Galileo took up the mantel of responsibility of protecting me from that evil when she died. He found it best to follow my mother¡¯s pattern and never stay in one place for more than a week at a time. As a family of misfits, Jay, Galileo, Kit, and I traveled the world together for two years. It bonded us together, and the emotion in the photograph now hanging in my jail cell was genuine.


    St. Mark¡¯s Cathedral and the Adriatic Sea loomed behind the four of us in the background as we stood on the cathedral¡¯s balcony. Galileo stood off to the side with a quirk in his lips and eyes squinting in amusement. To his left, Kit and I were posing back-to-back. Kit¡¯s arms were crossed; despite his serious body language, there was a huge grin on his face. I relied on him to keep my balance as I had a knee lifted and my arms up before me as if I was rocking out. The jacket I had covering my arms to obey the church¡¯s laws had slipped down to my elbows, revealing more of my white dress. Jay was before us, partly kneeling and holding up his hands in the horn signs.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I was sixteen in the picture, and now, it was difficult for me to accept that the moment had been captured six years ago. So much had changed. It might as well have been a completely different lifetime.


    Unfortunately, the person who had salvaged my sanity and life was not Jay. In fact, I hadn¡¯t seen him in over a year. I had always known¡ªalways wished¡ªthat Jay would move on, even if at the beginning it hadn¡¯t seemed like he would. He was there the moment I returned from Colorado Mental Health Institute of Pueblo with psych prescriptions and the diagnosis of competency to stand trial after sessions upon sessions with several psychologists. I had been in Pueblo for several months, and during that time, Jay had written me several letters. Somehow, he had learned that I had been transferred down there, and in his letters, he ordered me to write him back the moment I returned to the jail. His second and final order was that I put him on my visitor list. I did both within a day. There wasn¡¯t much more to his letters.


    Thus, I was not too surprised when I was called out of my cell days later for a personal visit. Sitting down at the computer monitor, I could see Jay on the other side. Excitement over seeing a friendly face erupted in me, and in my rush to pick up the phone, I fumbled with the receiver a couple of times. His own eyes flooded with glee. Before even uttering a greeting, I pressed, "How did you get out? I thought you were being held as my accomplice!"


    Jay grinned and shrugged. "They didn¡¯t have enough evidence to hold me," he declared. "The DAs couldn¡¯t prove I had any knowledge of what you did since I was unconscious when you went psycho crazy lady on everyone, and they couldn¡¯t prove you had told me anything beforehand. They had to let me go. They are going to have to let you go, too. It wasn¡¯t like what you did was intentional, Bria."


    All my joy over seeing him disappeared when he brought up my dire situation. "I killed one hundred four people, Jay. They are not going to let me go."


    "Hey, what was it that you always told me?" I stared at him blankly, refusing to answer the question, fearing the worse. Before everything, I had been the type to sprout off mindfulness quotes. Before everything, Jay was the pessimistic one, and I had been the buoyant one with a new inspirational quote in my pocket to throw out. Everything had changed, and I was reluctant to be hopeful for my future when I already knew what it held. "''You must have love in your heart and face the world with it. Only that way can you magnetize the positivity in the stars to change your life for the better.''" Jay quoted.


    Grimacing, I glanced away from the monitor. My gaze landed on the communal shower in the dayroom before flicking over to where the first cell on the lower tier was. Its inmate was standing at her window, glaring at me. When she saw that she momentarily had my attention, she shouted, "Fuck you, cunt!" I rolled my eyes over the lack of originality. "After spending twenty-three hours a day in lockdown, you would have thought she would have more creative insults," I muttered. Then louder, I said, "I¡¯m not getting out, Jay."


    Jay leaned closer to his monitor, as if he could intimidate me into believing. "Don¡¯t say that. You are. If only because I need you out here, Bria. I don¡¯t have anyone else. First it was Kit who was taken away from me, and then Galileo. Death stole them from me. I might have thought Kit was annoying ninety-nine percent of the time, and Galileo was too overbearing, but I never wanted them to die. Now the law is stealing you from me. I can¡¯t survive without you, Bria." I watched as Jay looked upward in the effort to control his emotion.


    I wished I could have reached across the screen and touch his hand to comfort him. "Jay, you must move on. You have an entire life in front of you. It¡¯s a completely blank slate, and with the skills Galileo taught you, your chances of succeeding are far greater than anyone else¡¯s in your position. I want you to move on and never look back."


    Jay laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You don¡¯t understand. You can¡¯t. You don¡¯t know anything."


    "Know what?" I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head.


    A rebellious light shone in Jay¡¯s eyes for moments, and I thought he would tell me whatever it was he was hiding from me. Then that light faded, as if he had reconsidered crossing that line. To my disappointment, he returned to the original conversation. "We have to get you out. I¡¯ll get you the best defense attorney that I can find. You¡¯ll get out, I promise."


    "Jay, don¡¯t promise anything you can¡¯t guarantee," I whispered with a sad smile. I tilted my head. "Do you even know what kind of weapons I used?"


    A shield crashed down in Jay¡¯s eyes. All his earnest emotion dissipated until I was met with a stone face. "No one knows."


    "But you do," I accused, straightening from the realization. "It''s obvious from the way you''re acting."


    "No. I don¡¯t."


    "I don¡¯t need an attorney," I declared forcibly, the muscle in my jaw twitching with bitterness. "I already have one. You should go back to Phoenix, Jay. Or somewhere else. You need to settle down. Pick up the pieces again, create a life for yourself."


    Jay''s mouth made a solid line in his stubbornness. "I''m staying here."


    Our visits were timed and ended after thirty minutes. There wasn''t much more to the first visit. Jay wanted to keep to meaningless, and quite irritating, small talk. Our succeeding visits were similar. For some time, they were once a week, while his letters were consistent, and I could expect them every other couple of days. Like our visits, the letters were monitored, and we had to be careful of what we said. Sometimes, our words were veiled, and I was both bitter and frustrated that I couldn¡¯t talk freely with Jay as I used to.


    During this time, Jay got a regular job working at KFC. He rented out a room at a nearby apartment so he could visit me regularly. "I want to feel like you are near," he expressed. I was critical of his choices; his life was becoming too routine. Jay could only handle routine for a little while before he threw a grenade at all his progress. He rebelled against management and structure. I knew there was no way he could sustain this lifestyle. I tried to talk to him about it, and he refused to listen. He tried to placate me by putting unwanted money on my books, saying, "You can now buy yourself some better food. I know that the shit they serve on those trays is garbage.¡±


    "Jay, you need to save that money so you can build a better life for yourself." I protested. I was wasting my breath.


    His welfare became a constant stream of anxiety for me to fight through alone in my cell. I felt trapped, especially at night when I was separated from him by bars and steel. He may have been only streets away, but we might as well have been on different continents when the jail entered its graveyard lockdown hours. I worried about his wellbeing, especially when he came to our weekly visits looking strung out. At first, I thought it was due to working overtime at his job and pleaded with him to take care of himself. As time went on, I discovered Jay was coping with our circumstances in his own way: he had discovered the underworld of illegal drugs.


    This discovery only occurred because he missed one of our weekly visits and one of my court appearances, which he strived to be at. I later learnt that it was because he had been arrested for possession of meth. He faced me on the other side of the monitor at the visit after he was released on bond and admitted that he had turned to fentanyl and meth to get through the grind. He hated his job, his boss, the loneliness, and life in general. We both broke down during that visit. I despised myself for not seeing the signs earlier. I had been trained to see details in the world, and yet, I had failed to recognize that Jay was not in the right state of mind, that he had blended a stimulant and opiate together. I should have noticed his odd pupils; odd, erratic behavior; and euphoric mindset that came through the monitor and his writing. I despised myself for not being there for him. Jay promised he would get clean again, and never allow himself to be weakened by his struggles again.


    He would promise this repeatedly. His promises just became hollow words. Lies. I would wonder if he was saying them just because he thought it was what I wanted to hear. He filled the void within him with the people he met along the illegal substances circuit. I lost track of the number of times he would fill me in on his sexual escapades, each one with a different woman than the time before¡ªas much as I didn¡¯t want to hear it.


    Jail just became a revolving door for him. The judge got as frustrated as I did with him and declared that probation was no longer working. Jay¡¯s probation was revoked, and he had to serve time in county jail, working as a kitchen worker, for several months. I had hoped that this time away from meth and heroin would thrust Jay into sobriety. I tried to refer Jay to the jail psychiatrist. Unfortunately, they couldn''t do anything until Jay reached out to them first. My letters during this time were filled with pages begging him to get help for his underlying issues. He ignored my begging and never enrolled in the several programs the jail offered.


    Over the course of a year and a half, Jay rode this tedious rollercoaster. He was released from jail, his mouth foaming from all the promises of actually living and accepting his new life. If his previous roommates would take him back, Jay returned to wherever he was living before incarceration. The same went for his employment. If no one wanted him back, he had to find accommodations and employment all over again. Jay was usually on the straight and narrow for several weeks until he couldn¡¯t ignore the temptation of that intense high and fell into his old habits. When he showed up to our visits, either high or strung out, I knew it was only a matter of time before he was back in here with me.


    Before the last time I ever saw Jay, the judge informed him that if he ever stood before him again in his courtroom as a defendant, he would give Jay a direct ticket to prison. At that time, Jay just got a longer sentence in jail¡ªafter the judge berated him about being hardheaded and not allowing the substance abuse classes to work. The judge¡¯s patience and compassion had expired.


    Two years into my incarceration, Jay appeared at one of our visits. He looked less hungover than I had seen him recently. His shoulder length hair was clean and combed. A pensive expression dominated his face. He was fumbling around with a small business card. It took a little needling to get him to tell me why he was so distracted and fidgety.


    Once he started, he couldn¡¯t stop. "I was approached on the street the other day. I was trying to get more crank, and these two random guys came to me. At first, I thought they were undercovers, until they preached about how the world was fucked up. You know how passionate I get about that stuff. Turns out they were recruiters for this new world order shit. They want me to join their cause and go clean. They gave me a sample of something that they said was completely organic, but just as potent, and wouldn¡¯t have the harmful effects as the other shit does."


    Concern flared within me. I locked eyes with Jay and said, "You didn¡¯t agree to join their cause, did you? Or take whatever they gave you, right?"


    Jay shook his head slowly. His eyes flickered down at the business card in his hand. "No, I just told them I would think about it."


    "Good. Because they sound like a cult."


    "Really? You don¡¯t think this could be what I need to change my life? A purpose?"


    I clutched the phone receiver tighter. "No! Jay, please tell me you won¡¯t join their cause." My heartbeat was fierce against my chest. It was imperative that I got him to agree to throw the business card away. I felt emotion bleeding out of my eyes as I said, "Jay, please tell me you won¡¯t do anything rash." Needing more than a verbal confirmation, I brought my hand up to the screen. My eyes implored his to listen to reason.


    Jay¡¯s expression spun through several conflicted emotions. He gripped the business card in his hand and shoved it into his jean pocket. His other hand rose to meet mine on the monitor. "I won¡¯t leave you," Jay promised through a strain in his voice. "I¡¯ll stay here."


    I should have known better. Jay''s promises were as fragile as ash. He disappeared completely. Eight days after his visit, he had written me a letter with only one sentence.


    I¡¯m going to go with them.


    Just like that, Jay was gone.

 EIGHT

    I waited until I had forced down dinner and made an appearance on my hour out before I grabbed one of my books, the advanced physics one, and settled into my bunk. I hung a bedsheet from the upper bunk to conceal part of the bottom bunk. It effectively concealed my upper body when I laid back on the mattress. With my inmate ID card, I dug out a couple of my psych pills from the wall. Ten two-toned blue capsule pills fell into my palm. The shininess of the capsules slightly appealed to me, though it was their purpose that enchanted me. At 50 milligrams each, I only needed three capsules to accomplish my goal; I replaced the other seven back into their hole.


    My orangish-red rubber cup was waiting beside me on the floor, already filled with water. I threw the three capsules into my mouth, took a swig of water, and relaxed. Shutting my eyes, I waited for the medication to take effect. I focused on building, constructing. Just like how I had when I twirled around trapezes and the silks, I focused on my breathing. Beyond my breathing, I could feel my body relaxing in a way it hadn¡¯t been able to since the last time I had taken this avenue. It used to scare me when the medication immobilized my arms and legs. Now, I loved the sensation, knowing what it would bring.


    The drugs relaxing my system helped me find that little thread to that secret place. Hawk had called it my black hole in the universe. My focus on my desired destination deteriorated into one lazy and fuzzy flow of thought... until suddenly, I was no longer in that jail cell.


    My eyes flickered opened. My breath got caught in my throat from my awe of the city arrayed in front of me. Pride rushed through me over the knowledge that I had created it. There were the visually appealing buildings that were inspired by the Berliner Fernsehturm and Seattle Space Needle. A Ferris wheel spun on its axis. Cathedrals offered a contrast to the modern architecture. To the west of the city, colorful rows of buildings stood over a wide canal that parted the city. Twilight was gripping the city and casting it in soft blues and purples. Stars were already dotting the skies. The buildings'' lights were switching on to combat the approaching darkness. The city was of the usual sort. There was one key difference that made it magical, however: it was upside down.


    The wind brushed against my revealed skin; it itself was a contrast to the temperate summer heat. This time, I had clothed myself in a turquoise halter-style dress. The skirts flared with the small gusts. A single strand of sparkly fabric ran parallel to my spine. My hair was down, and compelled by the breeze, tickled my exposed skin pleasantly.


    I tilted my head up slightly to catch the wind just right. My eyes shut as I enjoyed the sensations. On earth, it had been four years since I had felt the summer breeze against my skin, smelt the salt from the ocean. Here, I could experience it anytime.


    "You outdid yourself this time. I''m surprised you left me in regular clothing after what you did last time.¡± An amused voice announced his presence behind me.


    Unable to keep my smile contained, I twisted to look over my shoulder.


    Hawk stood a couple of feet back. Underneath the twilight sky, shadows played across his skin. It gave him a mysterious aura. Over the past four years, his appearance had become gruffer, less regulated. He had allowed his dark jet hair to grow in; to my fascination, it grew in wavy. His toned body was covered by a navy-blue button-up shirt and a pair of black khaki shorts. Physically, he had changed little over the past couple of years. Yet, he had lowered his guard with me, and I with him. The reluctance that had made him tense at our first meeting had metamorphosed into a sparkle in his eye.


    "I could have always left you naked with just a boa," I flirted. Warmth swarmed my core, and I had to lock my knees just to keep from running to greet him. It was probably weird that I had such a reaction to him. In my defense, he was the only one in my world who didn¡¯t look at me with judgment or pity. Although it helped he didn''t know my history. We had given each other aliases, and for four years, that was what we knew each other by. It worked for us. It was just Shadowfire and Hawk in the sanctuary. No other distractions.


    Hawk joined me at the cliff''s edge overlooking the city. His hands were nonchalantly tucked into his pockets. A small grin lit up his face, which added to the beauty behind the symmetry of his oval face. His dark hair crept into his view, and with a jerk of his head, he forced it away from his eyes. Throughout these past four years, I had seen his hair shaven close to his skull, and then I had seen his hair shaggy and almost brushing his shoulders. The same with his facial hair: there had been the clean-cut days, and then the scraggly days. Today, however, he was in the middle of these two extremes. I found it dangerous, and my heart skipped a beat.


    He shook his head. If it wasn''t for the amused smile, I would have been concerned that he was irked by my creation. "You think I''d let you keep me naked? And what would I do with a boa?" he teased.


    "Cover your manhood." My grin grew bigger as I went on. "You''d have no choice. Apparently, I''m the Queen of the Universe here."


    "You think rather highly of yourself."


    "You can blame that on yourself for helping me advance as far as I have here." I shrugged before holding out my hand in offering. "Have you ever walked through an upside down city before, Hawk?" I inquired loftily, already knowing the answer.


    "No." His fingers intertwined in mine. I tightened our hold and took the first steps towards the upside down city. I made it so that we didn''t have to traverse down the hillside as I pulled, and he followed through our linked hands. We were crossing into the city''s threshold within a few steps. We fell into silence as both of us wandered through the city streets, lost in awe over seeing different parts of architecture that were usually never seen from our vantage point.


    When Hawk had let me go that first time, he had taunted me that my curiosity would betray me. He was right. My curiosity became untamed, and with nothing else productive to occupy my mind while I laid awake in the middle of the night at the state hospital, I had evaluated that first venture into the sanctuary. There were several questions that crept up once my fear had deteriorated. Then came the undeniable yearning to return, to learn exactly what Hawk meant by creating my own worlds, my own universes. Hawk had said he would teach me how, and I had fled. Yet, it wasn''t long before I returned. So, I acted out and got the Haldol and ketamine injection a second time. I manipulated the hospital staff for some time with the injections. Every single time, the concoction sent me to the sanctuary. This lasted for only a month, however, until the lead psychiatrist sat down with me, declared he knew what games I was playing, and prescribed me the drugs in pill format as an effort to compromise. Although slower to enter my bloodstream, they were just as effective as the injection.


    I was prepared for the sanctuary that second time, and Hawk was there, waiting. He accepted my declaration to learn and started the first lesson. Hawk had me start out in a white room, a tabula rasa, where I could concentrate. It was a better alternative than just floating out in space, where I had been extremely disorientated. Those first couple of world-building attempts were hilarious. They were probably the equivalent of a toddler''s crayon picture.


    My trees were rough, drooping far to the side as if they had been windswept. The buildings were so poorly constructed that they would stand completed for thirty seconds until they fell apart into a pile of damaged parts. My worlds were just sandcastles and play dough, easily destroyed. None of it looked realistic, and if I looked close enough, I could see pieces of the white walls of the sanctuary''s base. This was something I had never done before, and I knew I was going to screw up. I accepted it and didn''t give Hawk excuses. I remained focused.


    As a teacher, Hawk had started out as serious. Impersonal, even. He had taught those first couple of lessons without any emotion whatsoever. His reluctance kept him distant, although he never exploded when I failed to get the concepts immediately. Then his reluctance faltered as he saw my improvement and eagerness to learn. He became more approachable. Laughter started to appear in our lessons, beginning when the newly built bakery I had just constructed exploded into a million pieces thirty seconds after it was completed. Cake had splattered everywhere. I had frosting in my hair; Hawk had it smeared across his face. I had just laughed over the failure¡ªthinking I had been doing better¡ªand Hawk joined in. We laughed for a long time, encouraged on by the other''s laughter. He started to talk to me about books and philosophy as we enjoyed the final settings. (I did improve enough to hold them in place after they were constructed.)


    I was constructing worlds that were part memory, part imagination. The white walls of the blank slate faded with these new universes. I found joy in all of them and the stories they told. Hawk and I danced in vast halls cast in marble, murals stretching across the ceiling. We swum through cities as the pathways were one giant pool. We disrupted the peaceful sandy shore bordering the ocean with our footprints as we tore down it. Ice castles formed around us, the snow crackling underneath our feet. One day, we spent hours at a private cenote, ziplining and jumping off cliffs into the water. We had a day where we played in the snow and slid down the mountainside in tubes. With mugs of hot cocoa in our hands, we stared up at the simmering Aurora Borealis.


    We ventured through worlds filled with cherry blossom trees, turquoise water caves, bridges winding through redwood forests, milky way skies lurking behind sandstone arches, a world with clouds as floors and stars as walls, and a white room that we painted with color. That time, both of us had arrived in the sanctuary exhausted from what our personal realities had been putting us through. My defense team and I had been meeting for at least five hours a day during the week. They had a lot to present to me, from the case discovery to teaching me about the criminal justice system. It had been a lot to take in. I needed time to decompress. As Hawk and I had agreed to not discuss the outside world in the sanctuary, I wasn''t sure why Hawk needed that time, either. Painting the white room provided relief and distraction away from the craziness of our lives.


    Attention to detail was one element Hawk had stressed as he lectured me about creating in the sanctuary. Specifically, our clothing, which I also controlled. I was elated to discover that I had all the fashion possibilities a girl could ever want. Especially when my fashion choices in reality were severely limited to one choice: a red uniform. As I grew more experienced with creation, the possibilities were endless. I found myself in gowns, dresses, swimsuits, kimonos, and jeans.


    It was our own little sanctuary, our little taste of heaven, where we could do anything we wanted. The shared experiences united us. Our friendship transformed into something deeper, something untouchable and unspeakable. While it burned within me, I never acted on it. No matter where we were or what we were wearing, Hawk and I always found something to laugh about. I quickly learned that I could tease him to show my affection, and he never took my teasing as cruel. He always could return it. Our banter was flirtatious and enjoyable. We lost so many hours just talking on beaches, underneath the stars. When I was feeling spunky, I would resort to trying to prank Hawk. The pranks usually resulted in him just picking me up and spinning me around as I tried to catch my breath, which was lost because I was laughing too hard.


    I was grateful for this one blessing from the universe. The sanctuary was the only relief I had from the trial and Jay¡¯s chaos. Hawk''s company kept me sane. I hoped I had the sanctuary for the rest of my life¡ªhowever short it was. I tried to not think about the future and how long this could go on. That way led to nightmares about lethal injection.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    We had one unspoken cardinal rule: we would not discuss our personal lives. It seemed impossible that Hawk never learned who I was during these past four years. He spoke without an accent, and his mannerisms were clear enough that I reasoned he was from the United States, where news about the Union Station Massacre trial was widespread. He never had any curiosity about me either, especially about how I had so much time on my hands to be in the sanctuary as much as I was. Or if he did, he never acted on it. I think both of us knew it would ruin the enchantment we had formed. Neither of us wanted to destroy who we had become to one another and this place. We were just Hawk and Shadowfire in our little piece of heaven, nothing more, nothing less.


    His superiors remained completely silent and didn''t provide any guidance regarding my advancement. I took that as I was not ready, no matter how realistic my creations had become. Yet I became bored with the normal worlds. I wanted to push the limits. I checked out as many physics books from the jail library as I could to gather inspiration. Soon enough, Hawk and I were exploring worlds that lacked gravity and where we could breathe underwater.


    This upside down world was something I had never done before. I was playing with the dimensions of the world. On a whim, I created a street where there wasn''t one in the original plan. The buildings separated to form the street. Next to me, Hawk was in awe as we stared down the newly formed street. "I never even thought that we could play around like this in the sanctuary. You... what you''re doing is extraordinary."


    I gestured with my head that we should walk down the street. Hawk followed without protest. I eyed the brick building directly in front of us. With a thought, it became impossibly thin. "That''s surprising. I thought you were an expert at all things sanctuary."


    "Through practice and observation as a third party. Not innately, not like you," he advised.


    "What do you mean?" I questioned, frowning. I stopped at the brick building. My palm rested against its rough exterior as I considered it.


    "Do you remember when I told you we are in your sanctuary?" he inquired. I nodded. "Not everyone has sanctuaries. In fact, very few people do. It''s become extremely rare."


    I released the power of intention through my palm. The world shifted around us as I took my first curious steps onto the brick. The building became our ground. The axis of the entire world shifted so that I could walk along the brick building like it was a bridge. My arms splayed out to my sides as I balanced on the brick in front of me. "You said you learned vicariously. Does that mean you don''t have a sanctuary?" I wondered.


    "No."


    I cast a sideward glance at him. Despite the disorientating shifts of the world, he had remained by my side. "Then why were you appointed as my tutor?"


    Hawk''s frown became more prominent. A haunting darkness enveloped him as he avoided looking at me while looking everywhere else. His eyes became distant, as if he was traveling down a dark memory that had been dredged up by my interrogation. I waited, silent, until finally, I could feel him pulling further away from me. Unable to accept the distance, I acted quickly.


    A staircase formed in front of us, just wide enough to fit both of us side by side. It climbed upwards and twisted at intervals. I did not know where it led to. Still distracted by his memories, Hawk shot me a look. He said nothing as he followed me onto the staircase from the building.


    After we had climbed three stories and now hovered above the tilted and perpendicular city below us, I stopped adding onto the staircase. I peered over the city as I considered my next manipulation, which would be inspired by the physics books I had devoured over the years. Within seconds, two aerial hoops had formed within reach of staircase''s edge. I pulled the closest one to me and climbed onto it. I cherished the resulting swing. My body yearned to shift around the hoop like it used to. My legs desired to be stretched and contorted into different poses. Yet, I remained stationary and leaned against the side of hoop, watching Hawk climb onto the second one. A pensive frown still rested on his face. My face pressed against the hoop and feet dangling, I finally broke the silence. "How much longer do you think it will be before your superiors will declare I''m ready?"


    "I wish I knew. You''re already advancing far past what I''ve experienced."


    "Who are they? What do they want with me? What do they want with this?" I interrogated.


    "I don''t know." I glanced at him, frustrated. Hawk caught wind of my frustration and had the grace to look abashed. "They didn''t want me to tell you anything about them. They didn''t tell me what their endgame was, either. I was to be the sacrificial agent because I am the only one who knows the sanctuaries."


    "So, you haven''t gotten any further instructions?"


    "Not since the initial briefing."


    "That''s hilarious." I felt disappointed by the lack of progress. I had advanced to manipulating physics in the sanctuary, doing things that were impossible in reality. Hawk''s superiors remained quiet. It had been four years, and I didn''t know what more they needed from me.


    "You seem a bit depressed. I hope everything is okay," Hawk observed.


    I shrugged, thinking about life in solitary confinement in prison. "It¡¯s life. I''ll get through it. It''s not like I have any other choice."


    "So I take that as a no?"


    "Are you fishing for information about my personal life, Hawk?" I tried to keep my voice as light as possible, trying to add a teasing note to it. Needing a distraction from this conversation, I started to lower the hoops. We slowly skimmed the side of the upside down buildings in our descent.


    His copper eyes met mine. "I just wanted to make sure you are okay."


    "I¡¯m okay with what I can control. There¡¯s the part of life I can¡¯t control. Yet, nothing will happen if I complain about it anyway, so why waste my breath and time?" I jerked my chin at him. "I could ask you the same. You seem a bit distracted and haunted."


    Hawk shrugged. "It¡¯s nothing. My superiors just have assigned me to something new. I¡¯m not looking forward to it."


    I swallowed over the anxiety his words introduced. "Does that mean I will see you less?" The hoops reached the ground. I hopped off mine and stood in a city park. Lush, green grass carpeted the area. Small hills added dimension, while trees and flowers provided decoration. Skyscrapers bordered the clearing.


    "It shouldn''t," Hawk answered, reservation in his voice.


    I climbed to the top of one slope and fell backwards 0nto the field with my arms stretched out. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the vivid colors of wildflowers surrounding me. Hawk laid down next to me, orientating himself in the opposite direction so that his feet were right beside my head. I ignored the urge to reach for his hand and forced my hand to remain where it was on the grass. Instead, my fingers dug into the cool ground. I stared up at the sky hovering over the clearing. It was a calm, relaxing lavender. With the breeze brushing past my face, I felt like I could fall asleep right where I laid. "If you could have any superpower, what would it be?" I wondered. It wasn¡¯t unusual for me to throw these random questions out there, especially since we talked little about our lives.


    Hawk¡¯s hand twitched. Mine was close enough that I felt it brush against the edge of my palm. When Hawk answered the question, his voice was even. "I guess I would love to have psychokinesis, although I would have to be careful using it too much and these extraordinary abs vanishing! I¡¯d be worried it would make me too lazy." Hawk¡¯s tone had transformed into self-mockery towards the end. Blinking up at the sky, I tried to keep the blush from heating my cheeks and not think about what was being concealed by Hawk¡¯s shirt. "What about you?" he inquired.


    "Maybe reverse time. There are a lot of events I would like to change," I answered honestly. If I could go back, I would try to rescue Kit, who was the first one to be taken away from me. His death happened when I was sixteen, and for the following months, I was grief stricken. We all had been. It had taken awhile for a new dynamic to settle, and the lack of his presence was felt whenever Galileo called us for missions.


    "I get that. Regrets are heavy burdens. Still, we need to learn how to live with the decisions we¡¯ve made and build upon them. It''s not like magic exists," Hawk stated unnecessarily.


    "I know, but what if it did? The world would be a completely different place, perhaps better."


    Hawk sat up. His body was tense, and he peered to his left. There was nothing over there except for trees, so I knew he was refusing to look at me. Confused, I sat up and reoriented myself to examine his face. He knew I was too good at reading facial expressions and body language, though, and he was concealing something from me. I itched to frame his jaw with my hands and pull his face into view for closer examination. "The world would not be different, Shadowfire," Hawk declared. "Politics would still be a major component of it, as well as the question of how to lead everyone. You add magic¡ªanother way to amass vast amounts of unchecked power¡ªand you just raise the stakes higher. Magic and human nature are a combination that can¡¯t be trusted. Look what has happened without it: genocide and war."


    "You seemed to have put a lot of consideration into this," I observed. My head tilted. My instincts latched onto a small bead of suspicion. I studied Hawk¡¯s side profile. "Does magic exist, Hawk?"


    Hawk inhaled deeply. "No, Shadowfire. No, it does not. We mere humans are alone in this universe."


    "Then why did you become edgy with a theoretical question?" I reached out to lay my hand on his. I was silent as I waited for him to reply. The clockwork of his mind was working overtime. I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch before he looked back at me. His hand flipped over so his fingers could entangle with mine. I gripped his hard to present solidarity. He returned the motion.


    "It¡¯s just the new assignment," Hawk admitted. "It¡¯s nothing. Like you said, I¡¯ll get over it. I just have to finish it, and everything will be fine. That¡¯s how it always goes. I get an assignment. They promise me my freedom. I don¡¯t complain or debate the morality of it. I get it done. They don''t live up to their promise. Rinse and repeat." I narrowed my eyes, seeing his statement as an excuse. I needed a distraction.


    That¡¯s why I quickly wrapped my arms around Hawk¡¯s torso and pushed off the ground. It sent us flying backwards. Hawk landed on his back. I tried to inch my way up to his armpits. Hawk knew milliseconds counted with me when we were grappling. My skill might have been a surprise the first time we met; now, Hawk was all too aware of how to deal with me. Just as I was shimming up his chest, his arm slipped underneath my knee and flipped me over onto my back. I released an oomph of air.


    Hawk was there, lurching over me to position my arms above my head. His hands were much larger compared to mine, so he only needed to use one hand to grip and control my arms. He moved his center of gravity over me. Before he could slide a leg over my torso, I swung my hips upwards and around in a crescent circle to hook around Hawk¡¯s torso. He was well-built with muscle, making it hard to control his movement. I tried to push him backwards, hoping I would have enough momentum to thrust him on his back. My first push was unsuccessful. My leg strained against the maneuver.


    A mischievous grin appeared on Hawk¡¯s face. With his free arm, he attacked my side, right where he knew the staccato rhythm of his fingers tapping against my side would give him all the distraction he needed. Involuntarily laughter left my mouth, and I tried to twist away from him. My leg swung back down, which only gave him the opportunity to move further up on my body. The tickling stopped once he was in the dominant position.


    "What are you doing?" I gasped.


    His mischievous grin lingered; his dark eyes twinkled. Hawk leaned forward so that his face hovered above mine. He was so close I could feel his breath tickle my cheeks. I was in a vulnerable position, and usually, I didn''t do well with vulnerability. This time, panic remained dormant. There was a fluttering in my heart and a gasp lodged in my throat. We had been coming to the sanctuary for four years. Our strange friendship had developed on its strange foundation. We had nonverbally flirted with the idea of making things more physical, each exhibiting actions that dared to redefine our friendship, before darting a few steps back and away from the line.


    This close, I could see the distinguishing features of his face. He had a symmetrical, oval face. In a neutral, resting position, it made him look like someone you did not want to insult. When he grinned, the stern and severe persona disappeared into boyish charm and dimples he never wanted to admit he had. He rested on his forearms, careful to not settle too much of his weight on me. "Leading an uprising against you and your reign," he declared triumphantly.


    "What?" I blinked at him in confusion. I forgot how I even ended up on my back.


    "You said you were now Queen of the Universe. I¡¯m commandeering your throne. You¡¯re going to hand over your crown, Shadowfire."


    Understanding, I laughed. "How are you going to do that?"


    "The torture of... tickling," Hawk announced. He hovered over me, his face millimeters away. We were sharing the air between our lips. I caught him looking at my mouth before his eyes flickered upward to my eyes. A question floated between us for moments until I answered it. I raised my head up before sticking my tongue out and licking the smooth section of his cheek above his facial hair. A bit of salt from his skin lingered on my tongue.


    The action had the shock value I was looking for and sent Hawk trembling off me, laughing. He landed on his back beside me. Our intimate moment had passed, ruined by a swipe of my tongue. Wiping my salvia off his cheek, Hawk shook his head. "What was that for?"


    Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I gazed at him. "A queen must keep her crown." I made a motion as if I was straightening my crown.


    Hawk shook his head to hide his amusement.

 NINE

    I was highly aware of the fact that it would be my last time walking the same path I had been walking for four years when the court services officers had arrived at my cell on August Fifteenth. The day had dawned with sweltering temperatures. I had spent the morning against the cool cement floor to fend against the heat that had overwhelmed the building.


    Despite having been convicted of one hundred four counts of first degree murder the previous month, all I felt was relief when my cell door opened. Since I had already been convicted, and was no longer fighting for my freedom, the sophisticated suits were unnecessary at this point. I was restrained in my uniform and the restraints were fully visible to the public; I was back in the more restrictive shackles and body belt. Gone was the smoke and mirrors from my trial.


    Not having to change into the courtroom clothes saved us time, and we arrived in the courtroom five minutes before the sentencing was scheduled to start. Compared to how it had been when the jury had given their verdict, the courtroom was more subdued. A minimal amount of the victims and their families sat in the pews. One set wore shirts with one of the victim''s faces plastered across it. The media officials lined the back of the courtroom. My attorneys were settled around the defendant''s table. They glanced at me with pity in their eyes as I hobbled over to sit with them. They looked defeated.


    Judge McKenna entered the courtroom with her black robes swishing around her legs. No one had much of a chance to stand up in her honor before she quickly told the assembly to remain seated. In the weeks since we had all been assembled in the courtroom, she had added blonde highlights to her hair. She sat down in her chair and swiveled it around to face the rest of the room. "We are here today, August Fifteenth, Two Thousand Nineteen, for the sentencing of the defendant, Briara Andralyn Disraeli, case number 15CR6737," the judge announced with no grand displays for the record¡¯s benefit. Her straight-forward response and management of the courtroom was one characteristic I had admired about her. "The defendant has been convicted of one hundred four counts of first-degree murder, three hundred counts of assault, and first-degree arson by a jury of her peers."


    Judge McKenna paused. "Before we proceed with the sentencing, I have one question for the defendant." Judge McKenna turned her gaze towards the table where my attorneys and I were seated at. I knew what was coming. "Will the defendant like to inform the court what type of drug she consumed on the day of this ghastly massacre, and what type of weapon she used in order to dispel some of the mystery around the massacre?"


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    Ava was sitting next to me and stood up to answer for me. I locked my jaw and stared at the table, wishing I could give a different answer. Yet, when we had met several days ago, Ava had cautioned me against lying. "Your honor, my client still maintains that she lacks any memory of the massacre, including the drug and weapon she allegedly used."


    The judge¡¯s lips twitched as her eyes burned with her disappointment. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Ms. Disraeli. You had a chance to help future citizens against being killed in circumstances like yours. You had a chance to show your remorse and assist the common good."


    Unwilling to meet her gaze and adverting my gaze, I knew nothing good could come from arguing with the judge in her courtroom. The next time the judge spoke, she addressed the courtroom. "In accordance with the sentencing statutes related to first degree murder, I am sentencing the defendant to life in prison with no possibility of parole."


    It was as I had expected.


    When I returned to my cell, I started the slow process of cleaning up and packing everything away. I had been diligent about checking to see what property I could bring with me to the Department of Corrections; the jail had the list available on the dayroom kiosk. In my four years occupying the cell, I had accumulated a lot of personal property. There were the letters and pictures Jay and Skye had sent me, hanging on my cell wall. My books and legal materials. The thermal underclothes, snack food, and hygiene products I had eventually purchased with the money deposited in my account. I spent that afternoon sorting through everything and deciding which pieces would go with me to prison, and which I would ultimately have to give to Mousey¡ªif the officers allowed it. I took a shower on my hour out and braided my wet hair.


    I thought that the transport would occur that same day, or for security reasons, later in the night. I laid awake through most of the night, anxious for my intercom to buzz and alert me it was time to start this new stage of my life. No such announcement came; I could have just gone to sleep. Nor did it come in the following days. I asked the pod officers about the status of my transport. Their answers were textbook: "It¡¯s classified. Security purposes."


    The end of the week arrived, and I was still the occupant of A8.

 TEN

    The nightmare struck again.


    I was back at Union Station. With a few exceptions, it was set up the way it had been the day of the massacre. Only this time, I was the only human soul on the premises. Shadows reigned over the space. Terror fueled my movement as I dashed down an aisle, slipping on the tiled floor. Every time I slipped, I kept upright by sheer determination. I didn''t dare look behind me to track the source of my fear. It would steal precious milliseconds away from my escape. Nor could I hear his stalking footsteps¡ªthe threat was incorporeal. He always was.


    I slid again when I was near the coffee shop. My attempts to remain upright failed. I landed on the ground and slid until I crashed against the wall. Terrified, I scrambled around and sought the monster. His smoky form was slowly approaching. I cowered against the wall. Suddenly, I was no longer an adult in Union Station. I was back to being my eight-year-old self in Galileo''s already destroyed cabin. The monster''s smoky hand reached out for me¡ª


    I came fully awake to the sound of hurried footsteps. Blinking the disorientated daze out of my eyes, I sat up with relief at being out of that shattered nightmare. My heartbeat was still accelerated. My forehead was sweaty while my arms were extremely cold. I tried to get my breathing under control. The night lights reflecting against the cell''s hard surfaces reminded me exactly where I was at. The echo of footsteps alerted me that the graveyard officer was completing his interval welfare check. It''s just a nightmare, I reminded myself. The same one you''ve been having for your entire life. Or at least, since the death of my mother. The massacre had only amplified it.


    The reoccurring nightmare had been especially prominent when my mother died. For months, my mind just didn''t want to release the memory of being terrorized in Galileo''s school cabin by the same thing that had killed her. Every single night, I would wake up screaming and thrashing around the bed. Galileo had tried to help me through it in daylight. It wasn''t easy, for during the day, when he wasn''t training me to become his agent, I struggled with my grief. It wasn''t until his nine-year-old nephew Kit shared a bed with me that the attacks dwindled. He would embrace me and talk nonstop whenever I came out of it, shivering and terrified. He wouldn''t release me until I had laughed over something he had said.


    The nightmares still happened as I aged, albeit rarely, as if they were reminding me they still existed. Even Xavier was present for one, though he thought it was a simple nightmare. Yet, after the Union Station Massacre, they evolved to include the recent incident. When I was at Pueblo for my mental health evaluation, I discussed this with the psychiatrists. Besides verbal counseling and another prescription for sleeping meds, they could not eradicate the nightmares. If I had only one for the week, then that week was considered a good one.


    "Central, Roberts, another inmate is out of his cell. He''s running down B-Hall." I heard the approaching officer''s radio echo nearby; panic and excitement escalated the words. Distracted from my musings, I strained to hear more radio traffic. The message was unusual¡ªthere shouldn''t be any inmates leaving their cells at this time of the night. The facility''s housing units were on complete lockdown. As I focused on hearing more, I noticed two sets of footsteps. There were two officers conducting the welfare checks, an urgency in their steps. Frowning, I perked up more; something was up. There was only one officer assigned to the pod during graveyards.


    "Roberts, stay in the tower. We¡¯ll send help when it¡¯s available. Sergeant Canton, what¡¯s the status on SORT activation?"


    "I¡¯ve contacted the on-call SORT sergeant. He should be notifying the team. Patrol has been contacted for resources, too."


    "Central, Kozlowski, I have about seventy-five inmates out of their cells. Some of them have entered the main part of the facility. I have a couple fighting in the dayrooms! Oh fuck! One is trying to get into the tower! Stay back¡ª"


    "Kozlowski, don¡¯t do anything. Stay where you are. Central, do not open that tower door!"


    "Copy. Sergeant Canton, maintenance has been called and is standing by in the employee parking lot until it is safe to respond."


    "Have all the nurses left the facility yet?" The radio traffic became louder as the officers entered my dayroom.


    "Yes. They are all accounted for and waiting in the employee parking lot."


    The graveyard officer assigned to the pod for the night, Barragan, appeared right outside of my window. He tugged on my door to verify it was secured, shined his flashlight into my cell, and made eye contact with me. He looked partly surprised to see I was awake. Still, he said nothing and moved onto Mousey''s cell. I heard him tugging on her cell door, too. Intrigued, I got up and crept to my door''s window. I could see the other officer pulling on cell doors and conducting welfare checks on the lower tier.


    When Officer Barragan had reached the end of the upper tier, he started his descent. He keyed up on his radio and advised, "Central, Barragan, all the doors are secured in Adam."


    "They show secure on the monitors as well," the person working central advised.


    There was a pause before the officers got their next set of orders. "Officer Barragan and Officer Hollins, respond to the EOC."


    "You want both of us?" Barragan questioned after exchanging a look with Hollins.


    "Yes. While it¡¯s safe enough to extract you. We¡¯re going to need your assistance."


    "Copy."


    The two officers departed the dayroom and disappeared from my line of sight. Although I had nothing to do with the ongoing incident, I felt a flare of excitement and adrenaline. From what I could piece together, the electronic system securing cell doors throughout the facility had crashed. Some cell doors, securing some of the state¡¯s most violent predators and psychotic individuals, had opened in the middle of the night. The facility¡¯s doors that controlled traffic throughout the facility were unsecured as well, giving the inmates full access to the rest of the building¡ªpotentially giving them an opportunity to escape if they were lucky enough to navigate through its maze.


    Graveyards had a lower number of staff on duty because of the nightly lockdown; if inmates¡ªespecially those inmates who were predators or had mental health issues¡ªhad escaped their cells, the officers were going to need reinforcements. A handful of officers were not enough to manage the inmates who had gotten this taste of unexpected freedom. It could take a while to put those inmates back into their cells.


    They had put too much trust in an electronic system to keep them safe.


    Sighing, I returned to the bunk and sat down on the edge of the mattress. A failure of the electronic door system had not happened before in this jail¡ªat least not in the past four years since I became a resident. This was an emergency, and the jail would not return to normal procedures for at least a couple of days. I expected I would miss a couple of hours out, mealtimes would be random, and my transfer to the Department of Corrections would be postponed until they got the system fixed.


    I was about to lay back in bed when I heard my cell door''s motor buzz; the buzzing was from the activation of the door¡¯s locks. I flung myself into a sitting position just as the door slid open. It opened to reveal two inches between the door itself and the doorframe. I froze and stared at the opening. I watched as my cell door slid further open¡ªuntil it ran out of track. From the silence occurring throughout the unit, I didn¡¯t think any other cell had been unlocked.


    The night lights in my cell and the tier hallway provided enough illumination to see that nothing stood in the shadows just outside of the threshold. A chill radiated down my spine. Preparing to fight, I set my feet down on the ground. My heartbeat was frantic in my chest. I strained to see what lurked in the shadows; my mind insisted something was there. My instincts screamed of another presence.


    Nor was the presence the monster who suddenly barged into the cell.


    I do not remember taking the quick lateral lunge over to the other side of my cell as the monster flew into the cell. I only remember the alarm and disbelief exploding in my head. The monster was simultaneously animalistic and humanoid. The main portions of his body resembled a man¡¯s. That was the extent of the monster''s human qualities. Long horns erupted out and upwards of where a human¡¯s ears would have been. There was another horn on the crown of his head. Long, ugly wings erupted out of his back, the tops of which were folded in on themselves because of the cell¡¯s ceiling. The man¡¯s skin was ashy white, vividly contrasting with his open wounds. Lines¡ªlike claw marks¡ªwrapped around the man¡¯s arms as if they were decorative. They also extended down the man¡¯s chest and legs. The markings were not new. They seemed to be worn with pride and purpose, as if exposing your insides with gaping wounds was the fashion in Hell. His eyes reflected hellfire and brimstone.


    The monster leapt for me. His claws arched downward. I squealed and slid down the wall until my upper body was crunched over my knees, my arms rising to protect my head. I heard the scraping of his claws against the concrete wall above my head as he approached. His legs and feet¡ªwhich were built similarly to a canine¡¯s¡ªbarricaded me in the corner. Still, past them, I could see the open cell door. Panic drew me towards it. I fell forward onto my hands and knees, landing just to the side of the monster¡¯s legs. I scampered past him. Half of my body had cleared his form as he turned around awkwardly in the cell¡¯s tight confines. My peripheral vision warned me of his arm rising high in the air before swinging downwards at me. My body hunched over itself before twisting for cover under the bunk. His claw landed right where my back had been and instead slammed against the bunk. Unable to breathe for moments, I saw the long, knife-edge hooks sprouting from his claws. They could have been made of titanium.


    "Disraeli! Are you all right?" I heard Mousey squeak. I couldn¡¯t answer her, distracted as I was with trying to plan my next move. The demon¡¯s knees were bending. Soon he would be peering straight at me. My eyes searched through the darkness underneath the bunk and landed on my facility issued white bucket. I kept my commissary food items stowed in it. My hands fumbled with the items within, seizing anything. I came away with bags of circus animal cookies and dried plantains chips. Just as his head cleared the bunk¡¯s steel bottom, I hurled the bag of cookies at his face. They bounced off his face, harmless. I was already army crawling out from underneath the bunk. When I cleared it, I was in between the cell door and demon.


    I twisted around just in time to see the demon lunging for me again. Trying to be as small as I could be, I pressed my back against the concrete ground. I threw the plantain bag at him before seizing my shampoo. I quickly opened the lid and aimed the opening at the demon''s eyes. It squirted towards his face before I threw it at him. Hoping that the shampoo had sprayed in the demon¡¯s eyes, I didn¡¯t wait to see if it was effective. I pushed up on my legs and hands and crabbed-crawled backwards.


    The demon wiped the shampoo away from his face. He blinked his fiery eyes, bent his knees, and then left the ground. Fear immobilized my backwards escape, and I could only watch as the demon hurled towards me. My bucket of commissary was too far away. The demon was going to land on me, his claws right by my face.


    Mid-flight, the demon¡¯s direction changed. I felt a gust of air fly over me right before the demon altered direction. It was strong enough to propel the demon to the back wall and keep him there. A loud slam and enormous vibration I felt underneath my back came from the force. For a couple of seconds, I watched, gaping, as the demon struggled with whatever invisible force kept him against the wall.


    I righted myself and scampered out of my cell. Right as I did, I noticed fresh blood droplets sticking to the doorframe and the floor. Confusion mingled with my adrenaline; I didn¡¯t let myself ponder the blood¡¯s source. I hesitated outside of my cell door, considering the best escape route. Did I run down the dayroom¡¯s stairs¡ªwhich were on the other side of the dayroom¡ªor in the other direction and into the bordering dayroom¡ªinto an unknown? My eyes fell onto the steel bars forming the almost-ceiling high railing. Without a second thought, I started climbing. If my plan succeeded, I would have a lead on the demon when he freed himself from the force.


    "Disraeli!" one of the female inmates in my dayroom yelled.


    "What is she doing?"


    "That girl is crazy."


    The seventeen other girls housed in the administrative and disciplinary segregation dayroom stood at their locked doors¡ªtheir faces pressed against their cell windows¡ªand watched me as I climbed to the top of the railing. The jail''s intention had been to build the railing up to the ceiling for suicide mitigation. They had left about a foot in between the highest bar and ceiling. It would be a tight fit.


    "Oh my god, she¡¯s not going to jump, is she?"


    "Officer Barragan!"


    "What the fucking hell is that?"


    I was dragging my body onto the top bar, laying horizontally, and swinging my legs up, when the titanium claws slashed at my leg. The demon¡¯s claws dug into my calf and yanked downwards. Trying to keep my precarious balance on the bar, I attempted to dislodge his claw. The demon held on tighter and pulled, digging into my muscle. Screaming out from terror and pain, I felt my body shifting towards him as I strained to keep my balance. I gritted my teeth and kicked. Some of the kicks hit pure muscle¡ªit was as if I was kicking a rock. The movement was enough to force his grip to slip down my calf. I crushed my teeth together against the pain as his claws lacerated my skin further.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The demon suddenly flinched in immense pain and briefly released my leg. He released a fierce snarl, swung one of his arms backwards before lunging for my leg again. He got the bit of sock that had bunched around my toes as I kicked my leg upwards. My heel banged against the ceiling. The demon''s frustrated snarl was louder this time. Yet, before he could retaliate, he was hurled backwards. I swung my legs to the other side of the bars and straightened my body. My back was pressed against the railing; my hands gripped the bars; and my feet used one as a ledge. My left leg was shaking from the demon''s lacerations. I looked down at the dayroom''s concrete floor and felt a flair of panic. The jump was higher than I had estimated. If I fell wrongly, I could crack my skull open. Yet, I had been higher than this. I had jumped from hoops to trapeze swings to silks. I had been taught how to fall.


    I ignored the demon behind me. The screams coming from the inmates blended into cacophony. I took a deep breath and pushed away from the railing. During the fight with gravity, I focused on controlling my body. I knew that gravity would contort my body in whatever way it wanted if I allowed it. Time was on its side; I had milliseconds to play with. I braced for impact when the concrete floor approached. My legs and knees were loose. I landed on the balls of my feet and had an outstretched hand to balance me when my body shifted forward.


    The inmates'' screams and shouts blended into one sound. I risked looking over my shoulder to see the demon pressed against the railing. His murderous red gaze was on me. I heard his growl over the inmates¡¯ screams. I pushed myself up from my kneeling position, lunging forward, and fled from the dayroom.


    I wobbled with the first couple of steps. My legs were still recovering from the fall, and my left leg was figuring out how to support my fleeing, despite the injury. I felt blood dripping from where he had clawed at me and resisted the urge to touch it. The concrete floor was freezing¡ªwhich I felt every time my left foot touched down and took that as a good sign that my injuries were just superficial. I half-limped, half-ran towards the dayroom exit.


    It led to a circular room hosting eight other entries. Five of them were thresholds into other dayrooms, dead ends. I knew from my attorney visits that the one with the long hallway led to the visitation area. Another egress led to the confined yard. My eyes fell on the only viable option to create as much distance as I could away from the demon: the doors to the main facility.


    A hallway separated the doors. The doors were secured. Frantic, I put both of my hands up against the first door and tried to slide it open. It was a hopeless effort. The electronic system still controlled these doors. I dared to glance behind me. The darkened sally port was empty. I was aware of how many seconds I was losing waiting for the door to open, hoping against reality. My mind was scrambling for options, escape routes.


    The door slid open. Shocked, I almost didn¡¯t rip my hands from the glass window in time. I darted down the hall. The second door was opening by the time I had reached it. I twisted sideways to slip through. I raced down the exterior hallway to the intersection that connected the pod to the rest of the building. During my imprisonment, I had walked down this hallway a million times. It was still the same dull fa?ade with white cinder blocks. But this time was different.


    I heard noises coming from around the corner. Human screams, animalistic sounds, and loud booms all intermingled with each other. I was prepared to walk into a battlefield when I rounded the corner into the hallway. I hoped that the potential predators all distracted each other while I remained under the radar. I didn¡¯t dare to slow down.


    Only one demon had found his way to my pod, while the rest of them had congregated in the hallway. Despite the terror amplifying in my gut at the sight of all these monsters, and the disbelief in my mind, I ran into the fray blindly. It became a game of dodging and remaining just a flash in others'' peripheral visions as I ran. I saw more claws like the ones I had just dodged. Some demons were more animalistic than humanoid. One even had a foot-long tongue with what looked like a small human head at the end of it. I ducked and darted behind a creature with long, shaggy fur covering every inch of his body. He walked on all fours and was focused on a short, stocky inmate with an unruly beard.


    Male inmates mingled with the demons in the hall. They were almost as terrifying as the demons, as if they had come from hell itself. A couple had tattooed their entire faces and necks. They had shaved their skulls and tattooed the area. Most towered over me and weighed at least twice as much as I did. A fair number of inmates were not frightened of the monsters. While I was desperate to flee from the area, they went after the demons with homemade shanks. One possessed a push broom and used it to whack anyone who got in his way. He was a giant, so there was a strength and force behind his strikes that neutralized threats.


    I was watching one such person be shoved backwards when my forward momentum was halted, and I was slammed against the wall. My head banged against the white cinderblock; for moments, my vision wavered. When it returned, I saw my attacker. He was a gorilla-resembling human. His thick arms and hands applied pressure against my shoulders to keep me captive. There was a makeshift knife in his left hand. I could feel its edge pressing against my throat. He was shirtless, and tattoos covered every inch of his body, including his face and knuckles. Inked faces, words, crosses, and numbers swirled around each other in a cacophony of images. Even the man¡¯s eyelids had been darkened with ink. His pants were red, informing me he had been designated as a facility threat. His breath still stank of the hot dogs we¡¯d been served for dinner. Heart thumping, I stared up at the male. He was more than triple my size and weight, putting me at a disadvantage.


    "You are the bitch who shot up Union Station," he snarled. "You got off on your sentence. They should have fried you. You should have been ashes that night. The system is weak. I don''t mind being the executioner, though." The inmate lifted his left hand high behind his head as his right arm applied more pressure to keep me still. The jailhouse shank was dull in the hall light.


    I refused to die by a jail stabbing. Without hesitation, I used the wall to brace myself and brought my right knee up in between his legs. The inmate grunted and stumbled backwards. "Bitch! Cunt!" he snapped. The strike was only good enough for a distraction, as I was already moving, slipping down the wall and thrusting myself forward. My legs tangled in his. I locked my legs around his and yanked as I twisted myself over onto my stomach. It pulled his feet right out from underneath him. He landed with a loud, vibrational thump. The shank bounced out of his grip and slid down the hall until it bumped against a monster¡¯s hoofed foot. Curious, the monster glanced down at it before following its trajectory back to its origin point, landing on the inmate.


    I was already on my hands and knees, crawling out of range of the immediate danger. I scurried towards an inlet in the hallway. The inlet led to a door blocking yet another side hallway. I was able to claw the door open and slip inside, away from the chaos. Stumbling forward and upward, I used the wall for balance as I got to my feet again. The hallway continued straight for some yards before it veered to the right. My only option was to follow its path. My footsteps were relying on memory. This was the same path I¡¯d taken for court. I didn''t know what else to do. A part of me considered hiding in a closet somewhere and hope that no one discovered me until the officers had reclaimed the jail. Yet, that was too passive, and I couldn¡¯t trust the fact that I wouldn¡¯t be located by more threats. I had to remain on the offensive.


    The stairwell door and two elevators met me at a dead-end as soon as I rounded another corner. I hesitated in choosing which one to trust, and then eventually went for the stairwell door. I would rather have free range of movement than be trapped in a box. The stairwell door yielded under my touch as I pushed against it with all my strength, the security lock failing. I slipped inside and pushed it shut.


    I took three flights of stairs down to the basement of the building. Weirdly, the stairwell was vacant. I didn¡¯t dare to stop, though. The door to the housing units could yield to anyone... to anything. Just as the door at the bottom of the stairwell buzzed in response to my approach. I rushed to it and pulled the handle before the buzzing stopped. It spat me out into the book and release section of the jail.


    I ran past the property room¡¯s windows and strip search rooms, straight into the booking and release area of the jail. I faintly remembered posing for my mugshots and allowing the officer to collect my fingerprints when I had first arrived. Then, the area had been swarming with officers. Each had attempted to help with my processing. Now, the area had been overwhelmed by evil. A couple of inmates scurried around in the area in the attempt to evade the monsters. The demons remained focused on maiming and destroying. If humans were not available, they went after technology and equipment. They tossed the fingerprint machines to the ground. Computers were ripped from their wiring and thrown against the wall. Cell doors were ripped from their hardware fixings. Paperwork was ripped to shreds and thrown about like confetti.


    I ducked behind the work area and hurried towards the exit sign hanging over yet another door. It, too, had been left unsecured. I darted into the opening and veered right into the hallway.


    I immediately regretted my decision. I had shot out right in the middle of a battlefield. On one side, there was a small army of officers suited up in riot gear and armed with intimidating weapons. With the helmets and shields blocking their faces and bodies, I couldn''t identify any of the officers. Those on the front line were shuffling forward with tactical shields. The hallway was like a service corridor at a hospital. There were boxes of equipment and supplies pushed up against one side of the hall. Further down, I could see carts of folded clothes and bins of dirty laundry lingering around where the laundry room probably was. The stainless steel carts used to deliver our food were around the kitchen area.


    "Disraeli is out of her cell!" one of the masked officers shouted.


    A deafening growl pulled my gaze to the other side of the hallway. I froze for moments as I took in the menagerie of demons trampling down the hallway to meet the officers head on. One of the shaggy wolf creatures roared, reared back onto his hind legs, fell forward, and ran straight at me. There were several like the demon who had attacked me in my cell. The giant ones made of purely muscle fell to the back of the horde, as their gait was slower. There was no way I could outmaneuver all of them. Behind me, I heard a bean bag gun erupt. I felt the rush of air against my arm as the blur of a bean bag hurled past me. It pitifully thumped against the hawk-nosed demon¡¯s chest and bounced to the ground. The bean bag gun ineffective, the officers switched to their other tools. My insides twisted when I saw the muzzles of firearms pointing around the shields.


    I realized I stood right in the middle of the gunfire. I gasped and fell forwards towards a random door. It gave a couple of inches until it wouldn¡¯t budge. It was locked.


    The officers started shooting. The gunshots were loud and echoed in the enclosed hallway. From my lack of injuries, it was clear that their intent was to keep the demons at bay, although my welfare wasn''t too important either. After all, in their perspective, I was now a convicted mass murderer attempting to escape. They had the prerogative to fire at me.


    I lowered my body weight, yanking the door''s handle, willing it to open. Shrieks and snarls came from my left. A quick glance in that direction revealed that the demons'' chests and wings were riddled with bullet holes. Their wounds ejected foul-smelling substances. The ammunition proved ineffective. I could only stare with my mouth gaping and saucered eyes at the demons as they continued their approach.


    I was distracted when the bean bag launcher emitted another shot. The ammunition plowed into my upper arm. I squealed and released the door handle. The bag landed by my feet. My blood was smeared across its surface. Grimacing in pain, I gripped my right arm. I shot an agitated look to my right and saw that the line of officers was advancing. The space in between the officers and demons was narrowing. "Disraeli! Get on your knees and face away from us! Put your arms behind your head!" someone from the front lines yelled. I didn¡¯t move. I stared at them in disbelief. What were they going to do? Arrest me as a horde of demons was coming to claw out all our eyes? The officers continued to fire towards the demons. It did nothing to stop the advance.


    "Disraeli! This is a direct order!"


    A whoosh of flame came from the demon horde. I felt the heat of the fire against my back before it collided with one officer on the front lines. The officer faltered in his advance as the flame flared before extinguishing against his shield.


    I felt nails scrape across my arm. Squealing, I stumbled backwards and away from the door and the pale humanoid creature who had crept up on me. He reached for me again with a horrifying extended arm. I flinched away, putting inches in between the pale creature and me. The creature only grinned, as if he enjoyed playing with his prey. I watched in horror as one officer shot a bean bag at the creature. It hit the creature right above the nose, and the creature stumbled backwards.


    It quickly became apparent that the officers and demons were going to meet on this battlefield that I had somehow wandered in the middle of. I panicked, my eyes searching for some way to escape, searching for salvation. There was a peculiar sensation building in my chest, as if energy was accumulating in it. When the battlefield was about to collapse on me, I felt the energy detonate from my chest. My anxiety twisted my gut. The energy pushed the two battling armies away from one another and down the separate ends of the hallway. The momentum forced me to my knees. I gasped for air. I felt fatigued, weakened, as if I had just completed a triathlon that I had no business racing in. A fog hovered over my thoughts. I couldn¡¯t think in complete sentences.


    The hallway door clicked open to a crack. I stared at it, too dazed to realize what was happening until a hiss came from behind the door. "Briara!" There was no one in the doorway''s vicinity, and yet, the door was still being held open. I remained where I was.


    "Briara!" came the demanding hiss again.


    There was enough energy in me to jolt me into movement with that second hiss. The officers and demons were stirring now. I didn¡¯t dare to test my legs, and instead crawled for the meager opening promising safety. My arms and legs were trembling just from the movement. I was about to collapse onto the concrete in the narrow hallway when I heard the door slam behind me. It looked like an emergency corridor, perhaps for emergency evacuations. A warm, calloused grip tightened around my upper arm, just missing the bean bag impact site. There was enough force behind it to lift me up. "Come on, stand up," the voice urged. It was a deep masculine octave. I forced my feet underneath me, before stumbling forward, unsteady. The male retained my arm and helped me find my equilibrium again. I still felt unsteady¡ªa bit loopy¡ªas if I was quite inebriated.


    His grip on my arm was sturdy as he led us to the door on the other side of the hallway¡ªthe one that entered a loading dock area. The September air was too hot to be comfortable, despite it being early in the morning. The man kept his grip on me as we walked down a ramp. He tried to maintain a quick pace, but my stumbling sabotaged any speed. All I wanted to do was lay down and allow oblivion to wash over me. Even the fresh late summer air against my face¡ªwhich I hadn¡¯t felt since I had been transferred back to the facility from the state hospital four years ago¡ªand the bright full moon in the sky couldn¡¯t revive me from the inebriated state.


    The male led me to an idling vehicle parked at the bottom of the ramp. If I had enough energy to be impressed, I would have. The car''s shape was sleek and small. It was meant for sharp acceleration and turns. The male opened the passenger side door for me and helped me sit down inside. I almost banged my head against the doorframe. The male shoved my head to the side to prevent the collision. My head felt heavy. I couldn¡¯t lift it from where it rested against my shoulder.


    "Put on your seatbelt," he ordered before slamming the door shut on me. I sank into the cool leather seats. My eyes were drifting shut when the male entered the vehicle on the other side of the car. I heard him grumble, "Or not." He fumbled around with my seatbelt before finally succeeding in latching it. He put the car into drive and sped off. The fatigue overwhelmed me and pulled me into oblivion before we had even left the facility.

 ELEVEN

    A stinging pain revived me from unconsciousness. I yanked my leg away from the stimulus to evade the pain. Hissing, I tensed when a strong, callused grip captured my leg and shifted it back to where it had been. I struggled to the surface and fully came awake, eager to find the culprit. The grip was still holding my leg down. I couldn¡¯t see anyone where a person should have been.


    I was lying on my right side on a couch in a minimally decorated living room in what appeared to be an apartment. My left leg was straightened at an angle so that it could rest on the ottoman. Various first aid supplies were scattered across the ottoman. Bottles filled with clear liquid and gauze pads laid amongst the bandages and creams. I struggled to sit up more to better see where I was and examine my injury. Unless I twisted around on my hip, I could not see the laceration. The fiery, radiating pain assured me it was still there and ran from inches below my knee to mid-calf.


    The grip tightened on my leg to prevent me from moving. "Stay." It was the same voice that I remembered right before I had descended into unconsciousness in the car. The same voice that belonged to the man who had helped me escape from the facility. All at once, the memories of the past couple of hours came back to hit me right in the chest. I tried to tug my leg away as I kicked out with the right one at whatever was restraining the other one. My eyes searched the area as my mind attempted to make sense of his invisibility. The only other sign of his presence was the chair wedged in between the ottoman and couch. "Do you want me to get all the demon poison out of you or not?" the man snarled. "Because I don¡¯t really care if your leg falls off when the demon poison rots it inside out. Perhaps it will even spread to your heart and kill you. Though, if we''re being honest here, maybe that wouldn''t be a bad thing."


    I froze, remembering the claw that had swiped at my leg and to what exactly that claw belonged. "It was real? The demon?" I whispered.


    "As real as humans are," the man answered resolutely. "You ready? I¡¯m going to pour polyhexanide into the laceration. You must keep your leg as still as possible. It¡¯s going to sting like a mother, so you need to control yourself. You jerked your leg away the first time. I didn¡¯t get all of it. We have to do it again." There was no sympathy in the man¡¯s voice. His matter-of-fact tone contradicted the service he was trying to provide. Almost as if he was only sanitizing my wound because he felt compelled by his duty to do so.


    "The cuts are superficial. I can still walk!"


    The man¡¯s grip on my leg released. I sensed he shifted his focus away from my leg. The first aid supplies on the ottoman disappeared into invisibility as the man gathered them. I sat further up on the couch in a panic. "Wait. I didn¡¯t mean¡ªI want you to clean the cut."


    I was relieved when I saw the bottle of the cleaning solution and gauze settle back onto the ottoman. The man tugged my leg back into its awkward positioning. I settled onto my right side and just stared at the chair''s legs, waiting for the solution¡¯s fiery sting. It came as a surprise when the solution was poured onto my calf. The man didn''t try to conserve. From the amount that spilled onto the ground underneath my leg, I knew he was just carelessly pouring the polyhexanide into my wound. The sting was too much. I flinched and brought my legs back towards my core, where I curled into a ball on my side. I cried out against the fire flaring in the wound. The cries melted into panting as the pain slowly subsided. I breathed in and out of my nose and mouth.


    When I could open my eyes, I melted against the couch cushion and angled my injured leg to see the wound. The laceration was now covered in small white bubbles. It was peculiar when the bubbles disappeared under the dab of a gauze pad, and although I felt the material press purposely over the scrapes, I couldn¡¯t see who was behind it. The man had pushed up my red uniform pants so that now the left side brunched over my thigh. Apart from the demon¡¯s claw mark, my leg looked normal. It was pale from the lack of sunlight over the years. It was something I could live with¡ªat least there wasn''t a greenish tinge around the calf muscle. The demon poison hadn''t spread.


    "Who would have thought that a human-created solution could destroy... something not of this earth?" I felt a cool cream contact the laceration. I released a breath and sunk further into the couch. It was exactly what I needed to extinguish the fire in the wound¡ªwhatever it was. "How did you know I got hurt?" I asked as the male continued his ministrations.


    "I was there." The lid to the cream was replaced, and the jar was set aside. The next to disappear under his invisibility were the bandages.


    I frowned, blinking. The demon hadn''t attacked me as soon as my cell door had opened. There had been some time in between. I had sensed another presence there. "You were there. At my cell." Then there was the matter of the blood droplets I had stepped over when I finally escaped my cell. At the time, I had thought the blood was unusual. With the possibility of deadly transmitted diseases, the jail staff freaked out about even a droplet of blood. They had a biohazard crew there in minutes to sanitize any area marred with human substances. The blood on my cell¡¯s threshold had been glistening as if it was fresh. It hadn¡¯t been mine; miraculously, I had evaded the monster while I had been in there. Had the male stood in the cell¡¯s threshold for those seconds in between, just watching me? Had he been inadvertently clawed by the demon as it rushed into the cell? "You were hurt, too," I realized.


    All I got was a simple, "I was."


    "Was it the demon?"


    "Indirectly." The male transitioned into the bandaging. It was invisible in his hands until it became a part of the wrap around my calf.


    "What were you even doing there?"


    There was a distinct pause. I wished I could see his face to gather information from. If I had his nonverbal cues, I would have been able to read in between the lines. Instead, I was left wondering with limited information. Eventually, the male revealed, "Well, I rescued you, didn¡¯t I? Doesn''t that tell you anything about why I was there?"


    My eyes narrowed at the chair. "Your attitude tells me it was contrary for you to do so."


    "If you expect me to be okay with breaking a convicted mass murderer out of jail, then you must live in a fantasyland," the male barked. The barbs hit straight on, causing a wave of remorse and shame within me. I had to force myself to swallow to get to the next moment.


    "Then why did you do it?" I forced out.


    "Because someone else has my balls on a leash," the male snarled. There was so much animosity behind his tone that I could feel the tears bubbling behind my eyes and a lump in my throat. I glanced up at the ceiling and blinked a couple of times. He finished with the wrap and tucked the end into the top part of the bandage. "Keep the bandaging on it for a couple of days. The ointment should heal the laceration enough that you won¡¯t have to worry about infection."


    The man regathered the first aid supplies; I watched as they disappeared into his possession, as if they had never been there. I heard his footsteps down the darkened hallway that led back to the bedroom. The floorboards croaked as he completed his task, presumably to return the first aid materials to their rightful place. While he was gone, I pulled down my pant leg. I pondered my bare left foot. A part of the bandage secured to its heel. I was a complete mess; the missing sock was only one aspect of it.


    I waited until the man came back to ask, "What''s going to happen now?"


    "I don¡¯t know" was his lousy answer.


    "You don¡¯t know? What, you haven¡¯t gotten any orders from your masters yet?" I shot back, unable to restrict my frustration over his lack of answers and my underlying fatigue. Whatever sleep I had gotten during the car ride over to wherever he brought me was proving to be inadequate.


    "I¡¯m still thinking about whether or not I am going to follow through with the orders I¡¯ve gotten," the man snarled. "If you think you¡¯re safe with me, think again. I have half a mind to return you back to the jail so you can rot in hell in a prison cell for those one hundred four lives you stole." I tracked his voice as he walked from the darkened hallway to the kitchen area. My irritation fueling me, I pushed myself up on my feet and stood behind the edge of the couch. My gait was a bit wobbly. Despite him administering to my leg, I didn''t trust him or his intentions. I felt better with a barrier in between us.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "If the jail is even still there!" I argued.


    "The jail¡¯s there."


    I blinked. "It¡¯s overrun with demons! You think they are going to reopen that jail? Guns couldn¡¯t even stop those monsters!"


    "Demons have been harassing humans for millennia now." The male snorted. "The proper authorities were advised about the attack and will get it taken care of. No one will even remember tonight ever happened. Besides, weren''t you supposed to be housed with the other psychopaths at prison for the rest of your life? I could just drop you off at the Department of Correction''s front door myself." His repeated insinuations related to the mass murder blemish on my record were becoming harassment. It was like he was jabbing the preexisting guilt I already had there with every insult.


    "Look, you don¡¯t have to be a fuckturd. I already feel horrible about what happened. As soon as you¡¯re ready to take me back, I¡¯ll go willingly." I pushed my arms together in front of me as if they were already bound and thrusted them at him.


    The man sarcastic snort irked me. I heard his footsteps migrate across the apartment towards the front door. "We¡¯ll see." The man paused before asking, "Did you know you could do that back there at the jail?"


    I felt my jaw twitch. "Do what?"


    "You sent both the officers and demons flying backwards." The man stated with a tone reflecting his belief that it was ridiculous he had to remind me of it.


    "Absolutely not." I rolled my eyes. "Don¡¯t you think that if I knew I could do it¡ªwhatever I did¡ªI would have used it against the demon in the cell instead of hiding underneath a freaking bunk and throwing cookies at him just to get away from him? And you saw me use that... power¡ªyou saw me in the middle of that warfare, and you didn¡¯t open the door for me until I had taken care of the issue myself?" I was incredulous when I realized he had been there the entire time while my life was in danger on the battlefield between the officers and demons. He had been utterly useless in those moments. "Were you getting amusement from watching me struggle?"


    "Whatever. Do whatever you want. Maybe you''ll go turn yourself in so I don''t have to do it myself. Maybe you''ll be good for once." The front door opened to the apartment. A few seconds later, it slammed behind him, making the doorframe vibrate. I glared at the door. Instead of facing my ridicule for his own contradicting actions, he had ran away. I didn¡¯t know if he was really there this morning to save me or watch me die. He had only rescued me because someone else had ordered it.


    I had so many questions I needed answers to. Like why he was invisible. If he was a sort of demon himself. What was he doing at my cell before the demon had attacked; had he been planning to rebel against his orders to break me out of jail? Was he behind the chaos at the jail in the first place; did he tamper with the electronic door system? Who were his bosses that demanded he went against his morals to break a convicted murderer out of jail? What did they want with me? What did I do back there in the upper hallway of the jail? Was it even remotely like what I had done three years ago at Union Station? What was his name?


    With a sigh, I glanced around the empty apartment. I was intrigued and looked for answers to my questions. One wall in the common area had a brick fa?ade pairing with the ceiling''s exposed beams. The furnishings and appliances had been remodeled to reflect a more modern interior. A long marble countertop with a sink faced the open space containing a long rectangular table and the couch. The kitchen cabinets were black to contrast nicely with the marble, while the kitchen appliances were stainless steel. An artificial mixture of purple roses and hydrangeas arranged in a pot decorated the round table. There were large pieces of acrylic artwork adding depth to the space. Someone had taken the time to mix navy blues and golds on one and then violet and silver on another. There wasn''t much in the common area. The apartment had been staged¡ªperhaps professionally.


    The apartment had three tall windows, each accompanied by swaths of white and navy curtains. Peaking my head around them, I discovered we were on at least the third floor, if not the fourth, of an apartment building. It overlooked a communal patio area and ultimate frisbee area. There was a wide, two-lane sidewalk that separated the apartment¡¯s space from a small river. Boulders formed a downward slope down to the river. I could imagine people spending their summers lounging on the boulders and splashing around in the water.


    I wandered down the hallway. To my right was the entrance to the petite bathroom, which hosted the bare minimum. The minimal hygiene products were gender neutral. A search in the hall closet revealed the first aid kit and accompanying medication. Eager, I scanned the bottles, only to be disappointed. All the bottles contained over-the-counter medication; nothing was strong enough to propel me to the sanctuary. To my left was the bedroom. The bedroom featured a black framed queen-sized bed and a computer desk. On the computer desk, there was a flat-screened monitor and keyboard. The closet hosted a broad range of clothing for both genders, all of it new with the tags still on them. There were clothes for the gym and clothes for a black-tie gala. I found a pack of women''s socks in the dresser, and quickly exchanged them for the single one I had left.


    The space didn''t look lived in. There was minimal decoration which lacked personality. Mementos failed to clutter the space. This added more questions to the mountain I already had. Where had the man brought me to? This couldn¡¯t be his home. I expected some sign that he lived here, like a used drinking glass in the kitchen sink. The hygiene products in the bathroom appeared to be untouched, while there were the essentials of milk and eggs in the refrigerator¡ªalso untouched, and yet fresh. The cabinets contained a neatly organized set of dinnerware and nonperishable food items. I snooped around the drawers and desk in the bedroom. There was nothing there connecting someone to this apartment.


    I turned to the computer in the bedroom, relentless in my search for answers. It was an older set-up. The hard drive took some time to wake up. I sat in the chair, tensed. I was quick to jump at the keyboard when the monitor lit up with a generic login screen. The background behind the dialogue box had been changed to a bland black. I stared at the prompts in the box, perplexed. The top section in the box was filled out and its lighter color informed me that the text was permanent. It requested a network, and PID was preset in the answer box. The boxes below requested a username and password. After a couple of moments, my fingers slammed down against the keyboard as my mind quickly worked to find some combination of username and password that would get me into the main system.


    Unfortunately, I was not a hacker. Unfortunately, I didn''t even know my rescuer''s name or what PID stood for.


    I had to admit defeat.


    I was at a loss about what to do. In the end, I resorted to turning on the television in the living room. The television had been preset to the local news. I was not shocked to see my four-year-old mugshot featured in the upper left corner of the television screen. Frowning, I crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn''t very fond of the picture. The combination of the stark lighting and long hours of interrogation had induced dark bags underneath my eyes. That strange indigo hue my irises presented had been muted from the despair. My hair was tangled, as I had been too distracted to comb it that previous night. There were hints of my inner despair around my expression. That day had been only the beginning. It was surreal to be reminded of it, considering everything else that had happened since then.


    "Disraeli was only one of eleven inmates who escaped from the facility this morning," the female police department''s spokesperson advised. "The jail was overwhelmed with a system failure, which allowed those eleven inmates to escape. Currently, it seems as if Disraeli is working alone and not conspiring with the other inmates. There is nothing indicating that they knew each other. At this time, an investigation is being conducted to determine if Disraeli had any role in the system failure or was working with someone on the outside. The Denver Police Department strongly encourages people to immediately call the provided number if they see her; do not contact her. Disraeli is considered highly dangerous and volatile. We do not have any leads where Disraeli may go. If anyone has any information, they are encouraged to contact the police. We are open to questions for a short time."


    The reporters immediately hounded the lady. "Do you think Disraeli will go after the remaining victims and their families? Could she go after the jurors who were on her trial? Or maybe the judge? She was just sentenced to life in prison!"


    "We can''t rule anything out. We are offering increased patrols for anyone who was involved in her trial and who is fearful she will seek them out," the spokeswoman advised.


    "You said she escaped the facility around 2:25 AM. It''s almost noon now. There have been no sightings of her in the past ten hours?"


    "I can''t comment on that until the investigation is completed."


    "When will it be completed?"


    "After Disraeli has been captured."


    "What about a perimeter and search of the area?"


    "I can assure you both were executed. We still have the perimeter set up and are conducting a more extensive search."


    "There is a surveillance system around the facility. Have the cameras been helpful with which direction she headed off in?"


    Before answering, the spokeswoman grimaced. "The exterior camera system was not working at the time of her escape. The last sighting we have of her is her leaving through one of the jail''s emergency corridors."


    I sunk down on the couch. My knees had gone weak. I felt flabbergasted by the news report. I expected the manhunt. Yet, there was a lot of information the news had left out. There had been no information on the demons or that an invisible man was the one who revealed himself to be an unexpected accomplice.


    For the next several hours, I remained on the couch, focused on the drone of the television. My escape remained breaking news. A panel of newscasters sat at their desks and discussed the incident with each other and various other ''experts''. For about thirty minutes, the focus was diverted from me and put on the ten other inmates who had also escaped. The broadcast ended in the late afternoon, with the newscasters promising more discussion on the matter later.


    My fatigue was dominating me. I was too sluggish to move into a more comfortable position from slouching against the cushions with my elbow on the armrest and chin in the palm of my hand. A couple of times, I caught myself drifting and toeing the line of sleep until I jolted awake. Although I wanated to remain awake for when the invisible man returned, the fatigue became too overwhelming.

 TWELVE

    "In your last interview, you mentioned how that abnormality in Disraeli''s blood concluded she wasn''t human. Since then, we have learned new information. Or more like seen it. Have you seen the leaked video I''m talking about yet?"


    "Yes. About an hour ago. A friend of mine sent it to me as soon as it popped up on the internet." I recognized that voice. It was one that I had unexpectedly heard throughout these past three years. That tiny bit of interest it generated pulled me out of my sleep. Once again, they had Xavier Palacios seated in a television studio. I hoped he was getting paid for all the interviews he was doing. He radiated an air of refinement in his slacks and shirt. His brown hair had been combed over; usually, it was unruly. His expression was solemn. Yet, when the camera presented a closeup of his face, I could see the confusion written in his gaze. With my face pressed up against the couch''s arm and the stench of battle still on me, I lacked the energy to achieve the same level of sophistication. My joints ached, though I doubted I had any energy to so much as move from the couch.


    "We''ll play it for the viewers," the interviewer stated.


    The leaked video was from one camera installed in the bottom service corridor at the jail. It offered limited views of both sides of the hallway while I stood in the middle of the frame. The demons remained out of camera view throughout the video. As the video progressed, officers and their shields entered the frame, one tactical step at a time. When the first two rows of officers were within the camera frame, a burst of energy sent them flying backwards and me crumbling to my knees. The clip ended with the hallway door opening and me crawling through and out of the camera''s view.


    My mouth was parched.


    Xavier and the interviewer remained silent for moments after the video. "There are some people commenting about magic existing and Disraeli having powers. They say that she is a witch, or a superhuman like those we''ve seen on television and in movies." My heart hammered against my chest. Magic? I wondered. For moments, I forgot how to breathe over the implications of that possibility.


    "And I suppose they are going to make her into a supervillain and start presenting her in some silly costume," Xavier commented sarcastically.


    "What do you think? You believed that there was something odd about her blood when you tested it," the interviewer confronted.


    Xavier ran a hand through his hair. "It''s possible, but¡ª" Xavier shook his head, his hand moving to cover his mouth. "This is hard to wrap my mind around. This was the girl I asked to marry me. And she is a witch or something. Are there others or is something else amiss¡ªlike a new virus? And if she has powers... did she know about them while we were together?" The camera focused on a closeup of his face. Although he maintained a neutral expression, there was something in his eyes. I recognized it as the look Xavier got when he had a hypothesis he was trying to prove.


    "Do you think she did?" the interviewer inquired.


    Xavier hesitated. "It''s hard to say. There was never any sign that she could do... these types of things. But then again, it seems as if she was keeping a lot from me, so who knows?"


    "Have you confronted her about all these secrets?"


    "No. I haven''t spoken to her for years."


    "Do you think she will try to reach out to you? See if you''d help her evade the law?"


    Xavier snorted. "She knows better than that. She knows I would be on the phone with law enforcement the second I saw her." I glared at the television. The media really didn''t know me if they thought I would run straight to an ex-boyfriend now that I was free.


    "Where do you think she would have gone?"


    "That is the question of the day, isn''t it?" Xavier shrugged.


    Behind me, the front door lock jiggled for a couple of seconds before being followed by the sounds of the door being pushed open. I shoved myself up from my reclining position to peek over the couch. My eyes told me no one was in the area, which meant that the strange invisible male had returned. I heard his footsteps migrate to the dining table. He sat down two coffees and a bag of fast food. At first, I was shocked. The presence of the coffee showed that I had slept through the entire night. A glance towards the windows confirmed morning sunlight was leaking through. "You look like shit," the man insulted without even a hello. His tone hadn''t changed in our time apart.


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    "I feel like it," I grumbled.


    "You couldn''t have cleaned up a little? Last I checked, there''s a fully equipped shower here."


    "Why bother if you are just going to take me back to my cage again?"


    "Change of plans. We''re keeping to the original. Though, if you really want to go back into the cage, you could walk out of the front door, and I won''t stop you. Can''t say no one will put a bullet in your head once you walk around the city. But that''s your risk, not mine." The food bag shifted and rustled. An item that appeared to be a burrito wrapped in foil and a plastic container of green salsa appeared on the tabletop. An iced coffee became a part of the set.


    "We''re still in Denver then." I questioned cautiously.


    The man grunted in confirmation. "Are you going to eat or would you like a formal invitation?" he inquired snidely.


    Mr. Grumpy Pants needs to drink his coffee, I thought. With a grunt of my own, I pushed myself up from the couch. My joints ached with the movement while my entire skeleton system protested it. There was a pounding against my forehead, which was accompanied by lightheadedness as I straightened. At least I could find some amusement in this. I felt like I had aged fifty years overnight. I eased into the chair gratefully. The man took the food bag and remaining coffee with him as he moved over to the kitchen island, as if he couldn''t be bothered to sit down at the table and eat a meal with me. I bit my bottom lip against saying something about his rudeness.


    I seized the coffee first. The label on the cup told me that the man had ordered me a caramel latte with five Splenda scoops. I paused, my mind racing over the possibility, wondering how the man had known what to order for me. A quick glance informed me the man had chosen a hot drink for himself. I shook my head at the possibility. The man had just ordered me whatever he had gotten. I distracted myself with those first sips of the latte, savoring the taste. It had been too long since I had consumed espresso. My eyes shut in bliss. After that, I seized the burrito, which had been filled with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and chicken.


    "Will you at least tell me your name?" I questioned in between bites.


    I felt the man''s stare linger on me. "Why? I''m just going to drop you off with my superiors, and I want nothing else to do with you after that."


    My upper lip twitched out of agitation. "Fine, I''ll call you Fuckturd if I need to refer to you," I grumbled before snapping a bite off my burrito and chewing.


    "It''s Kyrian," the man growled.


    I swallow the bite of food and followed it up with a swig of the coffee. "Why are you invisible?"


    "That''s information you don''t need to know," he declared. I refrained from rolling my eyes. I didn''t think he would tell me. The television was the only thing that kept us from sitting in festering silence. Xavier''s segment had ended, and it progressed into other world news. Most of it was political and related to an organization that was meeting with all the world''s political powerhouses. What was discussed in these meetings remained a mystery. Rumor had it that this organization was trying to unite all the world''s resources to help the weak and poor. A valiant intent, yes, but even the broadcasters were concerned about why the organization operated in the shadows, and how it had enough power to convince the political leaders to discuss politics behind closed doors.


    I chewed my food slowly, contemplative. This was not the first time I had heard of such an organization. Jay had followed his temptation and joined up with a similar one, if not the same one. He had left me to fend for myself and wonder where he was. Even though I had encouraged Jay to move on from me, his actual action felt like bittersweet betrayal.


    The sound of foil crumbling came from the counter and distracted me from my thoughts. Kyrian threw his trash away and paused. "You done yet? It''s time to go."


    I glanced down at the burrito. The foil had kept it warm and delicious. "I''m still working on it," I grumbled.


    "Do they teach you how to move at a snail''s pace in jail?" Kyrian sneered.


    "I don''t even know why you fed me in the first place," I muttered. "Not like you care that much. Just let me starve." I took a bigger bite than before and tried to chew faster.


    Kyrian walked over to the open space in between the small foyer and dining room table, where he paused. "We''re going now."


    I took another bite before extracting the remaining pieces of the burrito out of the foil. I proceeded to the kitchen, found the trash can to discard the foil and my now empty latte cup, and when I looked up again, I felt Kyrian next to my side, waiting. My instincts guessed that the means of transportation would not be one that I was accustomed to. "How?"


    "We ''jump''. The technical word for it is ravel."


    My eyes widened, and I was sure I was gaping. My hand hung at my side. "It is true, then. Magic! Unless this is just some advanced technology that hasn''t been released to the public yet!"


    "You just sent demons and men flying backwards," Kyrian pointed out wryly. "You know what this is."


    I shook my head. "Yeah, in movies and TV shows. Is it safe?"


    "I knew someone who had all his limbs detached during a ravel.¡± It sounded like Kyrian shrugged nonchalantly.


    I sucked in a deep breath. "This is not helping my anxiety."


    "I will not baby you. Figure out how to control it or you''re on your own here." Kyrian offered his arm for me to take. I was forced to make a split-second decision. Before I had even made it cognitively, I grabbed his arm.

 THIRTEEN

    At once, I was overwhelmed with a rush of nausea and blindness as the apartment melted away. Impenetrable darkness surrounded me. My eyes were opened to a void. I felt wind brush my skin and whip my hair around. We were traveling through a void to whatever destination Kyrian had in mind. It seemed like I was in some everlasting, never-ending fall. Then, my feet slammed against hard ground. Off-balanced, I immediately reached out for the nearest stable object, which was a railing.


    The calm interior of the apartment had been replaced with a stately administrative building. The raveling had deposited me in a second-floor hallway. To my left, the wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows. To my right, there was a white marble railing. Both the railing and hallway formed a square around a depression. Voices coming from the depression drew me to the railing. I peered over.


    I had a full aerial view of a conference table. Every chair was occupied. There was a seriousness blanketing the room. Those at the table were in the middle of a meeting, and if their body language was any sign, none of them wanted to be there. However, none of this mattered. These people¡ªand their guards standing behind them around the perimeter of the room¡ªwere different.


    An older man sat at the prominent head of the table. His legs were spread to dominate the surrounding space. The sunlight leaking through the windows reflected against his bald head. Had he had any hair, it would have been graying, just like his neatly trimmed facial hair. His face had been hardened with experience and age. A pair of magnificent gray wings shot out of his back. The feathers were thick. The way they spread out behind and above his shoulders made him more formidable. I had no doubt the wings were as strong as his arms and didn''t want to be smacked with one.


    There were others who also boasted similar wings sitting next to him. A woman, a second man, and a girl who appeared to be my age sat to the bald man''s left. The three of them were attired with bejeweled headpieces and held themselves with regality that could only be bred. While the youngest of the three looked bored, the couple appeared frustrated and reluctant to even be there. Heavily armed seraph soldiers stood behind them at attention.


    Next to them were the men who were as bulky as boulders and extremely hairy. Their group''s affection for leather and tattoos almost made it seem like they were a biker gang. The man who had a diagonal scar shooting down his face appeared to be the alpha of the pack. Seated besides them, the group of delicate-looking humans appeared fragile with their bony skeletons, evanescent clothing, and wispy flyaway hair. Two sisters¡ªwho could be twins¡ªwere seated next to each other. Crowns of flowers draped across their brow. The group at the other end of the table was composed of people who had wavy hair, sharp features, and a greenish tint to their skin. Their clothing didn''t even appear like it had been made on land and was adorned with shells. It was extremely primitive and revealed a lot of skin. When one settled his elbow on the table and revealed his forearm, I gasped. It was made of actual gills. If I looked closer, I could see gills protruding from their necks¡ªif their chaotic and tangled hair didn''t conceal them. On the other side of the table, the people were just as unusual. One group had pointed ears sticking through their hair, and yet another had the unique attributes of animal features¡ªfrom cat ears to an owl''s canted eyes. Sitting next to them was the group whose skin glowed with moonlight: it was that deathly pale. They moved with an eternal grace.


    Those who sat at the south end of the table appeared more humanlike than the others. They lacked any astonishing features. And yet, there was something different with them. Four sat at the foot of the table. Their own host of guards were comparable to the ones that the seraphim had brought. From how the male in the middle was monopolizing the discussion with his preachy voice, I knew he was the one who had called for the meeting. He stood before his chair, gesturing every so often to emphasize a particular thought. "It''s time," he preached. "It''s time for us to unite fully. We''ve been separated for many centuries now¡ªsometimes at each other''s throats. Strides are being made towards progress on our end. We would rather not be the only ones at the forefront of change. Aurora meant for the instruments to be used to usher in an entirely new world, a much-improved world."


    "A much-improved world?" One of the hairy men scoffed.


    The man flicked his hand upwards and around so that his palm was a base for a ball of living flame. His stare lingered on it as if he was enthralled by it. "A world without struggle, where no one has to worry about finances or if they will have to fight for a loaf of bread. A world where every city, every country, every race will be under a unified government. There would no longer be a need for terrified citizens to flee from their crumbling countries, only to burden the systems of those countries who offer a better opportunity. A world where crime will be nonexistent, for the seven deadly sins will have no purchase on souls, no way to terrorize and brainwash the young¡¯s susceptible minds. It will be a world where we control the weather patterns and prevent cataclysms. We have the power now. We''ve waited long enough to act. It''s time. The instruments are doing no one any good sitting as trinkets on our bookshelves!"


    The man''s speech was met with instant opposition. "And who will be the leader?" One of the twin queens questioned.


    "You ate that entire burrito?" I had been enthralled by the conversation in the depression that I hadn''t realized Kyrian was standing beside me at the railing. Surprisingly, the antagonism in his tone seemed to have vanished. It had just been replaced by a monotone.


    My hands gripped the railing. "It was delicious," I grumbled. And I had been starving.


    "Hmmm. I thought you would be fat, after all that prison food," Kyrian insulted.


    "Is there some sort of timer going that you have to insult me every so often?"


    "You think you deserve to not be insulted?"


    I bit my lip when one of the seraphim glanced up at the balcony, as if she had heard us talking. It was the younger female one. Her platinum blonde hair hugged the sides of her face as it traveled down to her waist. Her wings were a mixture of white and gray. First astonishment, and then realization wiped the boredom off her face. Her frown became more prominent, and her eyebrows dipped inwards. I shifted my gaze to the wispy queen when she spoke again. I felt the heat of the seraph''s gaze against my face disappear. A quick glance revealed she was whispering to her female companion. Before the other female could look my way, I shifted my gaze.


    "Committees never work out long term," the same queen declared in answer to whatever the man had responded with. "There will always be some dictator to destroy the entire system."


    The man tilted his head. He squeezed his fingers shut over his palm. It extinguished the ball of flame it had contained. "Perhaps you would like to volunteer to be our leader, Tatiana?" His voice was sardonically contained, almost as if he was challenging her.


    The queen was not to be intimidated: she met his stare straight on. "Why, and be the first assassinated? No, thank you. You can give that title to someone else if your little plan falls into place, Alistair."


    "What''s going on down there? Who are these people?" I breathed, trying to remain hushed out of the fear that my voice would carry down to those around the table.


    "You have the leadership from the daemeyri fractions meeting with the seraph and mages." Kyrian commented blandly.


    My lips wobbled. "Daemeyri fractions?"


    "Lycans. Faeries. Merpeople. Elves. Therianthropes¡ªor shifters. Vampires." There was an entire world I had never contemplated. I stared down at the people down below. They seemed established, as if being daemeyri had always been a part of who they were and they didn''t know anything different. It was me who was awestruck by their existence.


    "And the people at the heads?"


    "Seraphim and mages." Kyrian paused before stating, "The mages believe you are one of them."


    I blinked. More intrigued, my eyes fell on the man who had created fire out of thin air. "Am I?"


    Kyrian grunted. "They probably will start claiming you lost control at Union Station, blaming all those deaths on the fact that you were never trained in your abilities, and it got out of its cage that one time. They probably got the archangels to agree with rescuing you by saying they will rehabilitate and train you on how to use your abilities." Kyrian''s tone informed me precisely how he felt about it. I could only shake my head; there was no reason to argue with Kyrian about why I should get this chance. He had already brought me here.


    Instead, I questioned, "The mages control the elements?"


    "If they think they can teach you, and you end up ''losing control'' again, their efforts here today will be all for nothing. The daemeyri will not sign any treaty with them if you are out there destroying the world," Kyrian mused. "I, for one, think the archangels made a massive mistake by assisting the mages in breaking you out of jail. It makes no sense. Why do the mages want you so much? You''re not a prodigy or anything."


    I bit my lower lip. My mind was on a different subject. "If you''re the one who broke me out of jail, does that mean you are a seraph?"


    All I got was a grunt in confirmation before he shut down completely. That explained why he thought he would never see me again after he dropped me off to his superiors, his assignment completed.


    "Why now? You''ve preached this new world ever since your new chancellor got into office. Is it at his request that we''re meeting here today?" This time, it was one of the mermen who contributed to the discussion. His arms were crossed over his chest. His muscles bulged in the positioning while his hair draped over his shoulders in sea salt waves.


    "He''s our figurehead for change," Alistair asserted proudly.


    "And he''s not even here to talk to us?" One from the therianthropes expressed¡ªthe one with the rattlesnake tail that rattled with his irritation. "Our cooperation and union can''t be that important to him if he''s not here."


    A female from the mages leaned forward so that her upper chest was hovering over the table''s surface, the angle doing much to reveal her cleavage. "He''s a very busy man."


    "Oh? And what is he doing right now that''s more important than attending the meeting he scheduled?" Tatiana, the faerie queen, inquired.


    "That''s classified." The bald seraph with gray wings declared over the multitude of voices that sprung up in discontent. The seraph, who had been silent thus far, had such a commanding presence that silence fell at once around the table. He stood up to further address the daemeyri leadership. "The chancellor and I have been working together to achieve Aurora¡¯s dream. I understand you are frustrated he is not here to meet with you today, and that he sent representatives in his place. I''m not entirely sure why he had to cancel at the last minute. He would not have done so unless it was for a very important reason. I''m here, and I can address any concerns you have."


    Those around the table were silent until the mer-leader spoke up. "What do you need from us to accomplish this paradise, archangel?"


    The seraph paused. I scrutinized him more closely after hearing his title. "We need the Instruments of Korre given to your fractions by Aurora."


    "No! Absolutely not! Aurora was specific in her instructions to keep them separated! It''s all in her concordat!" The shifter with the rattlesnake tail hissed. He was not alone in his sentiment. Others were muttering underneath their breaths and shaking their heads. The faerie queens stood up and retreated into their guards, who were armed with ancient bows. I could hear the other queen muttering about scams and absolute power. The lycans had murderous scowls on their faces, and their shoulders were tense, as if they were ready for a fight. The merpeople were speaking in an unfamiliar language altogether, having their own personal conversation.


    The seraph flattened his hands on the table and leaned forward in an intimidating manner. When his voice echoed in the depression, the threatening tone of it was disguised by his soft volume. Gone was the placating he had attempted to use before the immediate outburst. "The time will come when you will need to join us or you will be declared an enemy of the Union. Rest assured, this change is fast approaching, and you do not have much time to make your decision. We require you to submit to the Union by offering your Instrument of Korre. We do not make this request lightly. The chancellor and I believe it is time to employ them and usher this universe into a paradise. We would like for all the daemeyri fractions to be united with us in this endeavor."


    To me, his request sounded reasonable. However, the daemeyri behaved as if they were being asked for their beating hearts and youngest children. "You''re taking our right of choice away!" the lycan leader snarled.


    "To do the right thing, Pynneth. Our universe has suffered long enough."


    The unnamed faerie queen released an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes.


    "And if we don''t submit?" the merman questioned, his voice soft.


    "We''ll get them anyway." The mage male who had demonstrated his fire ability met the merman''s gaze.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    This was the wrong thing to say. The daemeyri erupted into a frenzy. Apart from the three crowned seraphim, no one was left sitting at the table moments later. Several had shot to their feet. Their hands were flattened on the table as bases for their trembling arms. The lycan leader was red from the neck up. The elves had stepped away from the seraphim, giving them a wide berth as if they thought the seraphim would attack them. The mages had also stood up. With their hands clenched at their sides and stances bladed, they looked prepared to fight. The female mage, the one with a glorious number of piercings, was tapping her finger against her thigh.


    "You are just the same bullies as you ever were," the merman exclaimed. "You haven''t reformed at all."


    "It''s always about power with the both of you! Haven''t you learned anything over the span of your brutal histories?"


    "You can''t tell me right now that having the power to live freely isn''t tempting," the archangel confronted. "For millenniums, you have hidden your very existence from the humans. You have lived secreted in your dens and caves, afraid to even reveal your true selves in the sun''s light. What the paradise offers is the ability to come out of your dens and caves and be accepted as a part of the political landscape of the universe. Queen Fallyn, you can''t tell me you are not ready to expand on your power, even if it is to expand your business more than you already have." The archangel glanced at the second faerie queen, who had been quiet during the proceedings. The solemn expression on her face did not alter by being placed under the spotlight.


    "The last time you tried to unite the instruments, we were hunted down by the humans. Hung. Burnt to hell in fiery pits," Fallyn reminded. Her voice was soft, musical. "Faeries were captured and our wings were ripped from our bodies. Our numbers were decimated. What signs have you received that the universe is primed for our ascension into paradise today so we can prevent a similar outcome?"


    There was a thump against the table. The fire mage had slammed his hand against it. "Aurora spoke to our chancellor the night of his ascension into office. She informed him that the time was ripe to initiate the proceedings."


    The lycans erupted into bold laughter. "This is pathetic," one of their deep voices declared. "The man who claims to have spoken to the paradise prophet is not even here, and he''s the only testimony you have?"


    The elf king shook his head and finally added his opinion to the discussion. "This is a complete waste of our time. I refuse to unite the instruments when we are not a hundred percent certain of what their conjoined power is. Aurora deemed them dangerous enough to place a check and balances system on them when she separated them and gave them to the different fractions here. You can threaten us all you like, Archangel Emerson and Senator Alistair, but you might want to examine this question before you act on those threats: do you really want to alienate the daemeyri sects to the point that they rebel? Do that, and you may never achieve the unification of the instruments." The elf king spoke so eloquently that the side conversations dissipated. He bowed his head towards the archangel and then towards the mage senators before pivoting on his feet and turning his back on the conference. The elves departed quietly through the exit in silent protest. The faerie sect disappeared through a portal of swirling lights. The therianthrope transformed into animals¡ªsome of them were birds of prey that flew intimidatingly close to the seraphim and mages. The merpeople departed in an angry discussion about what had happened today, not at all concerned about being overheard. They scowled at Alistair and the other senators as they walked past them.


    The vampires, however, lingered, slowly collecting their belongings. Their pale faces revealed nothing of what was on their mind, and they quietly departed with their heads down. One of them lingered behind his peers. He stared at the mages, opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. He then decided against it before hurrying after the others.


    With a sigh, the archangel directed his next comment at the mages when the room had emptied. "I''m guessing you''ll tell the chancellor about the results of the meeting?" The mages assured him that the message would be conveyed before even they vanished. Archangel Emerson flashed a glance at his three companions. The older female was staring at him with fire in her eyes. He ignored it and hurried out of the room without saying a word to them.


    "Come on," Kyrian said, as his hand came to cup my arm above my elbow. His pull guided me in the direction he wanted me to go, which was to one of the white staircases leading down to the lower level. His touch disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. With a sigh of my own, I followed him.


    Another question sprung to the forefront of my mind. "Where are we?"


    "Elysium. Home of the seraphim," Kyrian answered curtly.


    I blinked. "Is that a part of earth or its own separated entity?"


    "Another question you should know the answer to," Kyrian snapped. One of my eyebrows arched upwards. Indeed, I already had the answer to it: we were in a different dimension.


    "Shouldn''t have I gone with the mages?" I sounded breathless; Kyrian was moving at a quick pace.


    "My instructions were to bring you directly to Archangel Emerson." Kyrian''s monotone voice had returned.


    The staircase led down to a square lobby. Like the rest of the building, the lobby was a pristine white, constructed out of the purest marble. None of the daemeyri had remained behind to cause a disturbance. In fact, the only person moving across the lobby floor was Archangel Emerson. As soon as Kyrian and I added our echoing footsteps to his, he stopped and glanced towards us. Immediate recognition splashed across his face. He turned fully around and waited for us to meet him in the middle of the marble floor. I attempted to hold my chin high and back straight as he inspected me. It was a feat considering I knew I looked atrocious and had seen better days. The man obviously had some sort of political power amongst the seraphim. Of course, I reminded myself, he''s an archangel. I suspected he was the one keeping Kyrian captured in indentured servitude.


    The archangel''s chin was lifted, and his hands were interlinked behind his back, giving him a regal pose. His bulk was one of the most intimidating aspects about him, while his long face conveyed he strived on discipline. As we approached him, his mahogany eyes continued his inspection. Nothing in his expression changed to reveal his judgment of me.


    I stopped when Kyrian''s footsteps stopped echoing across the marble. "Archangel Emerson," Kyrian greeted in that same monotone voice. "Allow me to introduce you to Briara Disraeli."


    "Prince Kyrian. Miss Disraeli." The archangel greeted in turn with a slight nod of acknowledgment in my direction. I covered my sharp inhale of surprise by biting my lip. Prince? I wondered. They sent a prince to retrieve me? I ignored the urge to glance towards where Kyrian¡¯s footsteps had stopped. There was nothing that the seemingly empty air could provide me with, anyway. "We expected you here sooner. I don¡¯t recall giving you additional orders to divert after leaving the jail. You were to bring her directly here."


    Before Kyrian could answer, a rush of footsteps came from the conference room. A feminine voice called out, "Archangel Emerson!" The archangel twisted partly to survey who was approaching. It was his three companions. The middle-aged woman led the invasion, closely followed by her male companion and the younger woman whose wings had shockingly disappeared. Both women shared similar features, such as the long platinum blonde hair and almond-shaped eyes.


    The older woman was breathless as she finished her approach. She sucked in a deep breath, flipped her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder, threw her frustrated gaze at me, and then rested it on the archangel before saying, "I thought we had agreed as a council that we would not be getting involved in this!" After gesturing at me, the woman¡¯s hands immediately went to her angular hips as she squared off with the archangel. She was too focused on the archangel to fend against her long, blonde, thin, staticky hair. With a second glance, she looked younger. Her face was wrinkle free and had a consistent complexion. It contradicted the wisdom and confidence she held herself with.


    "Queen Rhiannon," the archangel greeted the woman with a voice born out of years of tolerance. My head tilted in curiosity as my eyebrows scrunched downwards, wondering if she was Kyrian¡¯s mother. "You should fill me in on what you are referring to before you start accusing me."


    The queen''s gaze shifted to me as she gestured carelessly to where I was. "Her extraction!"


    "The council met again to discuss the issue. We decided helping the mages with their request could prove to be more beneficial in the end than if we kept the status quo, especially since we have decided to join them in the universe''s unification. Did you not get our notice?" Emerson questioned with feigned innocence.


    "Obviously I didn¡¯t get it," Rhiannon snapped. "Or else I wouldn¡¯t be standing here demanding answers."


    "The messenger must have gotten lost." Emerson shrugged.


    The younger woman who had entered with the queen positioned herself to stand at Kyrian¡¯s side. Her focus was on the piece of air between us. From the way her expressions were flowing across her face, I realized she was communicating with Kyrian. I tried to decipher the woman¡¯s expressions. "This was unauthorized, a total breech of the trust and balance of power between the council and monarchy," Rhiannon continued. The way she was talking to him, as if she was his equal, made me think they were on equal political standing.


    The archangel took a deep breath, trying to muster up as much patience as he could. "Rhiannon, our assistance didn''t affect the rest of the seraphim. I didn¡¯t even assign a squadron to the mission. Your son was the only seraph I involved, and that is because he has some time to serve."


    "Emerson," Rhiannon responded in the same haughty tone. "In case you forgot in that meeting, we decided not to aid the mages because of the nature of the request. The girl is a convicted killer who was going to spend the rest of her life incarcerated. If the mages want to implicate themselves with the mortals over this when we are trying to get them to cooperate with the Valeion, then that is their prerogative. Now you¡¯ve gone and entangled us in this madness, and we don¡¯t even know the reasoning behind why they wanted her out. If she goes out and commits another mass killing, the blood will be on our hands for sanctioning the escape." I winced. I wanted to cry out that there wouldn¡¯t be another mass killing. Yet, I didn¡¯t trust myself either. The intention hadn''t been there the first time. I had lost consciousness and over a hundred people had forfeited their lives. Without knowing the details on how the first one had happened and thus how to prevent another, a second mass killing was possible.


    "The girl is a mage. She¡¯ll be with the mages and their responsibility soon enough. I¡¯ll advise the chancellor she''s here as soon as we finish. Besides, I don¡¯t believe she will go out on a killing spree anytime soon. Have you not seen the haunted look in her eyes?" I felt the flush on my face intensify. Rhiannon was quick to reply.


    "You think they will be able to handle that responsibility?" She scoffed.


    "Well, what would you rather have us do? Return her to her cell? The chancellor will be here to pick her up within a day, and after that, you will never have to worry about her again," the archangel mocked.


    "We''ll table this matter until the full council can meet and decide what to do," Rhiannon declared. "Until then, the girl remains with us."


    "I will not leave her locked in another cage."


    "Evangeline will take care of her." This time, it was the kind and humble looking older man standing next to Rhiannon who spoke. At this, the younger woman perked up, and Rhiannon tossed a peeved look at her companion. Her daughter, Evangeline, rapidly glanced towards Rhiannon, then Kyrian, and then me, and finally to the archangel, as if searching for his approval.


    "You don¡¯t need to burden your daughter with this. I can easily assign some soldiers to assist Bria to a guest room at the chateau while we deliberate," Emerson offered.


    "It is her duty to attend to all guests of the chateau, is it not?" Rhiannon countered.


    The archangel craned his head backwards in exasperation. When he lowered it again, he acquiesced, "Bria can go with Evangeline." Rhiannon looked satisfied with this arrangement.


    "We will meet in the afternoon two days from now and decide what course to take with her. I''ll alert the other archangels." Rhiannon asserted. She pivoted to leave, with her male companion following her. Emerson stopped her.


    "Rhiannon, Jakobi, I still would like to speak to you about your son if you have time."


    The queen paused before slowly turning around. Her shoulders were tensed. "What about Kyrian?"


    "He failed to obey precise orders the council gave him. He was to return to Elysium with Bria immediately after the extraction. Instead, he deemed it necessary to stay the night in some apartment in Denver. It concerns me he did not immediately return her to Elysium, as was ordered. This deviance was never taught to him."


    A deep frown overwhelmed Rhiannon¡¯s face. "Well, did you ask him why he did not follow through as you requested?"


    "I brought her there because we had both been injured during the extraction." I jumped when Kyrian spoke. From the sound of his voice, he had remained standing next to me during his mother¡¯s argument with the archangel. An edge of barely restrained rage lingered on his declaration. It ushered everyone¡¯s attention to him. "An army of demons had infiltrated the jail as soon as I took the jail''s electronic system offline." Next to him, Evangeline released a shocked gasp. "When I was trying to get to the girl, a tyrannos demon interfered. Before I could do anything to help, the demon clawed the girl¡¯s leg as she was fleeing. I wasn¡¯t sure how deep the injury was or how much poison had been transmitted into her bloodstream, and I had to follow her throughout the entire jail. She fled the cell while I was neutralizing the demon. Her blood was boiling by the time I eventually got her out; she was involved in several other altercations. There was a possibility that the poison had transferred to other parts of her body. When I finally got to her, she was code black. She freaked out over the demons and then fainted from the overuse of her magic¡ªwhich I don¡¯t think she knew anything about."


    "There are better healers here," Emerson countered. "You should have brought her here."


    "There were demons?" Rhiannon shifted on her feet, unsettled. She exchanged a concerned look with Jakobi.


    "She seems to be doing better than you did when we pulled you from the mortals and you discovered all about your heritage, Kyrian. She really doesn¡¯t know anything?" Evangeline interrupted.


    After not being heard the first time, Rhiannon challenged Emerson. Her concerned expression had transitioned into one of rage. "What were demons doing there? You sent my son into that festering hellhole? Alone?"


    Emerson held his ground. "I didn¡¯t know. I intend to assign a squadron to investigate the breach. You best check yourself, Rhiannon. Kyrian is a trained soldier, even if he hasn¡¯t been assigned to another squadron yet. He¡¯s fine, fine enough to rebel against direct orders. He''s not your little boy, despite the recent prodigal son reunion." Emerson''s voice was dripping with mockery and scorn.


    "Jakobi and I will see to disciplining Kyrian for his refusal to obey," Rhiannon snarled. "If you ever dare to send him out on another council mission when you know I don¡¯t approve of it, this will become a much larger issue."


    "You mentioned before how you thought there was a conspiracy brewing in the council. However, the same thing can be said for you and your family. What will happen if I pry into what really happened with this assignment? Would I find out that you were trying to circumvent what the council was doing?" Emerson''s threat was well concealed in his mild tone.


    "You are free to do any investigation into the monarchy you wish. It would be a waste of time, as we have always had the seraphim¡¯s best interests as the number one priority in our decision making," Rhiannon said.


    I felt a hand on my upper arm. I had been too focused on the political volley that I hadn¡¯t seen Evangeline move. She jerked her chin in the opposite direction. "Let¡¯s go. This is nothing you need to see or be here for." Evangeline walked towards the lobby''s exit. I followed without protest.


    Before we took more than a couple of steps, Emerson stopped us. "Evangeline," he called. Evangeline paused, not turning fully around. "Please help Briara get cleaned up. I¡¯m sure she would love to get out of the clothing she¡¯s probably been wearing for a week now and take a shower. Make sure our full hospitality is provided. She¡¯s not to be treated as if she¡¯s back in that jail cell." A blush encompassed my face, even though the archangel was correct. I was still wearing my jail uniform. The red pants with the Denver City Jail printed down the right leg contrasted garishly with the marble sophistication of the lobby and the fine clothing everyone else was wearing. I had left the outer red shirt behind in my jail cell, and only had on my ratty white undershirt and sports bra. The undershirt was semi-transparent, especially against the bold white of the sports bra.


    Evangeline nodded, and her lips featured a dutiful smile. Her hand waved at the archangel as she assured, "I¡¯m on it."

 FOURTEEN

    When Evangeline and I slipped through the exit and out onto the wide marble terrace, the ambivalence became more relaxed. The government building had been raised over the cobblestone street. There were about fifty marble steps that connected the terrace to the street. Evangeline bounced down them with me in tow. The sky in Elysium was overcast with clouds. The temperature was chilly, and suddenly, I wished for my outer uniform shirt. Still, the stress of witnessing the argument between two of the most powerful beings I had ever met and being forced to deal with Kyrian¡¯s repugnance of me melted away. Evangeline did not share any of the same negative energy. Her disposition was more cheerful. In fact, there was a high-energy bounce in her step. I had to exert myself just to keep up with her. Walking quickly just came naturally to her. "I suppose we don''t have to do any formal introductions. I know who you are, and you know who I am."


    I swallowed, still a bit intimidated. At least in the jail, I knew the protocols and routines. Here, I was drowning in an ocean of the unknown. "A seraph princess?"


    Evangeline released an amused snort before saying, "I was hoping to bypass that nonsense. I prefer to go by Evan."


    "Briara, nickname: Bria," I responded lamely.


    Evangeline nodded. "I like that."


    We soon reached the bottom of the ornate staircase. The government building sat on a long street amidst other buildings. On the other side of the street, there was a row of stores and restaurants. Seasonal smells and music flooded out of the stores. Window arrangements of dark gold vases, purple orchids, and white candles immediately caught my eye. Further down the opposite side of the street, there was a mass gathering of people. It didn¡¯t appear as if they were doing much of anything and were just waiting to gain admittance into a restaurant. I had to check myself from staring too much: half of them had wings.


    Evangeline led me to the first street that ran perpendicular to the train station, and we walked down it. Besides passing by a couple of people, some of who had wings, and some who didn¡¯t, the street was vacant. We crossed through a couple of other streets until we had reached what I immediately knew was the home of the seraphim monarchy.


    As we approached it, my vision of the chateau was impaired by the tall buildings surrounding the street. Then we cleared the buildings, and I had a better view of the royal building. An iron fence blocked entry into the marble courtyard that stretched before the cream-colored chateau. It was to this iron fence that we walked. Once there, one of the soldier gatekeepers allowed us in. Evangeline strode purposely across the courtyard. The courtyard was made of two different shades of marble squares formatted to produce a checkered pattern. Surrounding it, the chateau formed an inverted u. Full-length windows occurred at regular increments. Because of the time of day, it was impossible to see into the windows and what waited beyond in the residence.


    We went through a door on the far side of the courtyard. The marble continued indoors. I found myself walking into a foyer. It was a vast and wide room. Few high-backed velvet chairs had been set out at intervals throughout the space. Huge landscape paintings hung on the walls in ornate wooden frames that were as much pieces of art as the paintings themselves. The room could have contained three hundred people easily. Evangeline just walked through it nonchalantly, as if she had done so a million times before.


    Unable to withstand the silence, Evangeline gave me a side glance once we were halfway through the hall. "They say you''re a mage."


    I sucked in a breath. "Not sure if I believe it entirely, either."


    "You really didn¡¯t know you were a mage?"


    "No, not until like five minutes ago."


    "You would have thought my lovely brother would have filled you in on a lot after you two escaped the jail."


    "He wasn''t the most talkative."


    Evangeline¡¯s mouth quirked sideways, and she shoved her hair behind her shoulder. "You never used your magic before?"


    I considered her question. "In hindsight, yes, I can say that there have been instances." My mind went to the Union Station Massacre. Even after the conviction, no one could determine what weapon I had used. I had watched the video footage only once, in the interrogation room. When it was aired during the trial, I had averted my gaze out of shame. Had it been magic then, and then when I had pushed the officers and monsters backwards? "It seems impossible. My mother and mentor had seared it in my mind that magic didn¡¯t exist. It was fine to read fictional stories and all, but the moment I pretended I could make something levitate with my mind or put a curse on someone, they immediately reminded me that magic wasn¡¯t real. They were severely adamant."


    "Were they mages?" Evangeline wondered, pushing a door open at the end of the hall.


    "I don''t know," I answered. "Why would they lie and make me believe I was mortal?" I felt lips pursing in speculation. If my mother and Galileo knew I was a mage, if they were mages themselves, then why conceal it?


    "Don¡¯t know. Maybe ask them when you see them next?" Evangeline shrugged. We had reached a small stone staircase. Lighting was sporadic, as if this was more of a private route than public. Evangeline took to ascending the stairs as if she climbed them every day.


    I winced. "Can¡¯t. They¡¯re both dead."


    Evangeline glanced at me over her shoulder with a sympathetic expression. "I¡¯m sorry." I nodded, and Evangeline returned her attention to ascending the steps. She left me to my thoughts, which were a whirlwind of questions. It felt like life had spun out of control over the past twenty-four hours. For the past four years, my life had been regulated by jail and court discipline. Everything had been on a specific timeline that I had absolutely no control over. I ate whenever food was inserted through the door slot, like I was a caged wild animal. I took a shower whenever it was my daily hour out of my cage, and if there was enough time, I attempted to call Jay. Whenever I had enough pills, I traveled to the sanctuary and wandered through amazing worlds with Hawk. Otherwise, I was locked up in that twelve by six cell for twenty-three hours a day, with only the freedom to decide what I would do next to try to keep the boredom at bay. Now, I had been whisked from the jail to the royal seraphim chateau. Now, I had learnt there was more to the universe than mortals. There were others, and I was a part of that group.


    Once we reached the staircase¡¯s apex, we were met with a stone hallway veering off in both directions. Evangeline directed us to the left. From the windows inserted into the wall on the right side, I realized we were on the backside of the chateau. The windows overlooked a vast, inspiring garden with fountains and pretty flowers. Closed doors appeared to our left. Their heights were extremely tall¡ªperhaps to accommodate the seraphic wings. The doors had been made from wood, and an artist had carved different short stories and images into the panels. "Are you and Kyrian close?" I inquired.


    "We used to be."


    "He became the lovely person he is today?"


    "I take it he wasn''t exactly pleasant to be around?" She looked over her shoulder at me. In response, I gave her a half-shrug. "He wasn''t always like this.¡±


    "What happened?" My lips pursed, doubting.


    "Millenniums ago, he decided he needed a reprieve from his duties here. He left the seraphim behind. He¡¯s only returned recently.¡±


    "What do you mean?" I was intrigued.


    Evangeline fidgeted with the material on her dress, uneasy. "I shouldn''t tell you. It isn¡¯t my story to tell." I respected her decision to not gossip. There was still some underlying tension to his story. While it was clear that Evangeline loved her brother, she and others were frustrated with him and the decisions he had made. Even without Evangeline¡¯s confirmation, from what I could piece together, Kyrian had abandoned his people for some time, resulting in bitterness to form. Moreover, Kyrian was not too enthusiastic about being back in Elysium to fulfill his national duties. There was more to the story, and I wasn''t certain I would ever get it. Kyrian certainly wasn''t talking, and I didn''t think I would be here long enough for me to build enough rapport with someone to get the information from them. If I cared.


    "And his invisibility?" I questioned.


    Evangeline winced. "That''s also tied to the same drama that sent him spiraling out of control in the first place. It''s a curse that we haven''t figured out how to break."


    "A curse? Like some fairy tale?" I tried to keep the amusement muted.


    "Unfortunately, yes," Evangeline confirmed. "If someone looks at him, he could die. Or so we think. Every time we''ve tried to look at him since the curse''s onset, Kyrian suffers severe pain. He seizes, screams bloody murder... it isn''t pretty. Although maintaining the invisibility drains him, it''s a better alternative than that pain."


    I bit my lip. There was a part of me that despised I was so curious about some egotistical, arrogant bastard.


    "You look like you are about to explode. You might want to stop thinking so hard. I can almost see smoke coming out of your ears," Evan laughed.


    "I''m still trying to process everything," I admitted. "I''m just a bit overwhelmed, that''s all. Until I was arrested, I never slept in the same bed longer than a month. I got to travel the entire world until I was nineteen. I got to see a thousand different wonders in the universe, got to marvel at their mysteries. However, I never saw one sign that these shadow societies existed. I truly thought that the mortals were in a world by themselves."


    Evangeline smiled back at me as she came to a stop before the last door in the hallway, which became a dead-end. "We¡¯ve had millenniums to learn how to co-exist and make the mortals think they are by themselves in the universe." Evangeline opened the door to reveal a short hallway that led to a massive studio apartment. A California king bed was the statement piece of the room, and I was blown away by how large it was. Its sheets had not been straightened out on it and were thus haphazardly skewed across the mattress. The second statement piece was a giant wardrobe, which doors were thrown open to reveal the interior chaos. A dresser sat next to the wardrobe. On the far side of the apartment, there was an entry that led out to a balcony. Then there were the clothes. Clothes were thrown everywhere. The wardrobe and dresser looked as if it had vomited up Evangeline¡¯s clean clothing; clothes had been thrown on the foot of the bed and forgotten about; and then there were piles of clothes all throughout the room. A few mementos were scattered on her dresser.


    Evangeline gazed around her room with her hands on her hips, weighing a decision as she chewed on her bottom lip. "Ready to feel like a human again?" she asked me as she gestured for me to follow her into the attached bathroom.


    Evangeline¡¯s bathroom vanity and shower consisted of black marble, while the giant bowl of her sink was white porcelain. Surprisingly, she kept her beauty supplies way more organized than her clothes, and they were kept in containers arranged on her vanity. Evangeline bent before the vanity and pulled out two lush hot pink towels and a washcloth. "We¡¯ll get you feeling human again, and then I''ll order us some food. Throw your uniform in the trash. I¡¯m sure you aren¡¯t going back to the mortals. I¡¯ll take care of it later. When you¡¯re done showering, come out and I¡¯ll have some clothes ready for you!"


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Evangeline departed the bathroom after that, shutting the door behind her. Frazzled, I took a deep breath and glanced around. That sense of surrealism cascaded over me. A bit of my previous fatigue was still lingering, making it somewhat believable that I was just dreaming, and I would wake up in my jail cell once more, left to spend life incarcerated, left to spend life as one of the most despised people in any group. I shook off the temptation to pinch myself or slam my head against the wall¡ªjust to see if I would feel the painful sensation¡ªand dedicated myself to the task at hand.


    Disposing of my red jail uniform felt liberating. The garments felt dirty in my hands. I had sweated in them multiple times and the sweat had dried. It was a wonder that no one had scrunched up their noses because of the odor. My pants had dried blood crusted on them. In contrast, the pink towels Evangeline provided looked much cleaner. Another aspect of the liberation was the literal disposal of the garments. The jail staff got agitated and threatened to charge you for the cost of the clothes if you tore them up, tried to flush them down the toilet, or throw them away because there were old bloodstains on the underwear. A thrill rushed through me over the rebellion of tossing the uniform away. It was another thing that distanced me from that fate, and the longer I was freed, the more I was determined to remain that way. I tried to block out the guilt over not following through with my punishment for the massacre.


    After removing the bandaging, I noticed that the demon¡¯s claw marks on my calf had been reduced to a light red, and scabs had developed over the lacerations. Except for light throbbing here and there, I didn¡¯t feel any pain. Kyrian¡¯s cream had worked miracles. The shower washed away the rest of the dirt I had accrued over the past couple of days. When I finally emerged and wrapped a towel around my torso, I felt like an entirely new person. Or at the very least, back to who I had been on the morning before the massacre.


    I opened the bathroom door to meet Evangeline. I paused and left it at a crack when I heard Evangeline involved in a conversation with a gruff, masculine voice. After relying only on my hearing when he was around, I had become very familiar with Kyrian¡¯s voice. I hardly dared to breathe, lest I alerted him to my presence. Our past interactions had been so antagonistic that I was reluctant to emerge from the bathroom, cleaned up, and with only a towel keeping me from full nudity. I didn''t want to hear any smart-ass comments about how I was enjoying myself now while my victims were quivering inside of their homes, wondering if I was about to attack. I hovered just beyond the threshold.


    "Are you guys insane?" Evangeline was hissing. "What even prompted you all to think this was a good idea?" Through the crack, I could see that Evangeline was standing just inside the entryway. Her door was shut to the exterior hallway. She was facing towards the bathroom door. Her wide eyes were focused on the space before her. Where Kyrian had to be standing, I realized.


    "They are up to something, Evangeline. The council and the mage government. That much was clear when Emerson came to me privately and promised me he would let me go if I retrieved the girl," Kyrian informed.


    "Bria, Kyrian. The girl¡¯s name is Bria."


    "She killed people," Kyrian grumbled. I stifled my irritation by digging my toes deep into the bathmat and digging my fingernails into my palms.


    "So have you," Evangeline shot back.


    "In warfare."


    She shook her head. "Look, there are probably things that we don¡¯t even know about that massacre. The only thing we know is that it was probably related to magic, and Bria didn¡¯t know she had any ability until today, Kyrian. I know you think that there is some big conspiracy going on with the council, enough to sabotage your precious duty to the mortals, but maybe you should look into why Bria¡¯s supposedly dormant powers exploded that day after nineteen years. You and I both know that mages usually come into their powers in their childhood." My heartbeat was pounding against my chest. Was what Evangeline saying true... could it be true? Could I be innocent? Possibly?


    "I¡¯ve looked into Bria¡¯s eyes, and I¡¯ve looked into psychopaths'' eyes before. They aren''t similar at all. The psychopaths'' humanity was nonexistent, but Bria''s... she''s going through a rough time with all of this, Kyrian. She''s putting on a brave front, yes, but inside, she''s struggling. Bria would never intentionally harm any of those people."


    "You figured all that out in the ten minutes you''ve spent with her?" Kyrian snapped.


    Evangeline tilted her head to the side. "Don''t forget what I was trained in," she reminded. "You need to figure out who is pulling Bria¡¯s puppet strings."


    "It doesn''t matter. I''m leaving anyway."


    Pity appeared on Evangeline''s face. "Kyrian," she groaned. "Please tell me you don''t believe they are just going to let you go! Did you really think the archangels would free you if you completed this one oh-so-important duty for them?" Evangeline¡¯s eyes were searching the air before her.


    "I have no reason to not believe that the deal is legit."


    At this, Evangeline¡¯s head rocked back as she released a guffaw. The energy sent her leaning against the opposite wall. When she looked at her brother again, her gaze was darkly humorous. "Oh Kyrian, I didn¡¯t think you were this stupid. Did your mortal life make you this idiotic? The archangels will never release you from your duties again. Now that they know what is motivating you, they will just keep using it against you so you will do their dirty work. You must stop being their pawn and accept who you are."


    "That¡¯s what Rhea and Jakobi said. That¡¯s why I eventually tried to do what they wanted and kill her, the archangels be damned. I was standing there in the cell with the dagger and intention. And then I hesitated," Kyrian confessed softly. My heartbeat stopped for a second. He had come to kill me. The only reason he didn''t was because of the demon bursting in and interrupting the attempted assassination. "Those few seconds of hesitation screwed everything up, and now the archangels are getting everything they wanted. If you believe for one second Emerson won¡¯t find some way to give her over to the mages, then you¡¯re blind as well. He''s probably in his office now, figuring out how to circumvent the monarchy."


    "Why did you hesitate?" Evangeline pressed.


    There was a stretch of silence before Kyrian said, "It doesn¡¯t matter. I waited too long and when the demon slammed into me, the dagger I was going to use slipped from my hand. In the effort to get control of it, I cut myself on my forearm. It was fine, it was a superficial cut, but..." Kyrian blew out a large breath of air. "Would you mind examining the blade and seeing if you can determine if there are any unusual properties in its composition?" Kyrian held out the dagger to Evangeline, who reluctantly accepted it. Her fingers curled around the bottom part of the hilt gingerly before letting it fall to her side.


    "Do you think it was forged with poison?" Evangeline inquired. Her eyebrows pushed downwards in curiosity.


    "I don¡¯t think so." Another pause. "Adriana gave me the dagger."


    "You¡¯ve had that dagger for millenniums?" Evangeline blinked.


    "Adriana shipped it to me after she left and heard that I was seeking permission to commit suicide from the council and our parents. I think she wanted me to use it to do the deed. I just thought it was just her way of getting vengeance on me for not following her. But now, I¡¯m not too sure."


    Evangeline growled. "That fucking cunt. She would want you to kill yourself with the tool she provided. It''s a damn good thing she''s probably dead, because if I ever see her again..." Evangeline let the implied threat die. "I¡¯ll definitely look at the blade and see if it was forged with poison. It shouldn¡¯t take me too long. I¡¯ll get back to you."


    "Don¡¯t just look at poisons," Kyrian requested.


    Evangeline¡¯s eyes narrowed, and her head tilted in consideration. "Why?"


    "Just a feeling. When I went to her cell, I was prepared to kill her. I knew I couldn¡¯t let her fall into the council¡¯s hands and let them mold her into a pawn. After I got cut, I felt differently. I felt compelled to save her from the demon."


    His sister¡¯s eyes narrowed more. "Perhaps you just saw her soul," she debated. "Why did you even bring this to kill her? If it was given to you by Adriana?"


    Kyrian was quiet for a long pause as he considered his answer. Finally, all that he admitted was "I was compelled."


    Kyrian departed Evangeline¡¯s room after that. Evangeline walked towards her dresser and placed the dagger behind a decorative pot. Without even turning around, Evangeline called out, "How are you doing in there, Bria? Hope you don''t turn into a sponge!" Gingerly, I opened the bathroom door and stepped out. She eyed me as she asked, "How much of that did you hear?" She had turned around fully. Her hand laid against the edge of the dresser.


    I shrugged. "Enough. How did you know I was listening?"


    "One perk of being a seraph: superior hearing. That and I heard the water turn off."


    "I didn¡¯t want to interrupt."


    Evangeline waved a hand through the air. "You can tell the truth, Bria. You''ve already made it clear that you''d rather avoid my grumpy brother if you can." I matched Evangeline¡¯s small smile. "Come, let¡¯s get you some clothes." She nonchalantly turned her back to me. I still hesitated after what I had heard while eavesdropping on her and Kyrian. When she observed I hadn''t fully emerged from the bathroom, she paused. "You okay? You can come out." I took a meager step out of the bathroom, but not too far away so that I could dart back inside should I need to retreat to safety. I kept my back towards the wall. Evangeline examined my body, sizing me up. "I think I may have something for you to wear. It''s nothing fancy, but we''re not going anywhere tonight. I figured you''d like to just stay in after your whirlwind of a day. I''ll get us some food and we can watch something funny."


    Feeling anxious, I hugged the towel to myself. Evangeline had stuck her head into her wardrobe. Every so often, she would toss an article of clothing out. The shower had helped clear my head a little. It had paused time for a little¡ªenough so that my brain could catch up with the events. "I didn''t know there were demons." There was a question in the statement, and I hadn''t quite processed everything to realize exactly what I wanted to know. Perhaps I was just seeking clarification, seeking something to make this new world make sense.


    "Yeah, and they have been a bane on the seraphim''s existence since the very beginning.¡±


    I swallowed. "One attacked me at the jail. I thought I was having a nightmare or something." I despised how weak my voice sounded.


    "Are you serious?" Evangeline emerged from the wardrobe with clothes in her hands. "You should consider yourself lucky. The unprepared rarely survive a demon attack. Seraphim try to monitor the demon infiltrations, and we''ve gotten pretty good at it. I''m surprised that one got past the sentries. I''m sure someone''s ass is going to be raw soon enough." Evangeline returned to digging into the wardrobe, apparently not satisfied with the collection growing on her arm.


    "There were a lot." I told her, thinking about the other prisoners and wondering if they had survived.


    "I''m sure there will be an investigation into how the horde got in," Evangeline assured.


    I shifted on my feet. Uncomfortable with any type of silence, I questioned, "Why do some seraphim have wings and others don''t?"


    "We all have wings," Evangeline informed. "Some of us just choose to not wear ours." Evangeline stepped back from the wardrobe. "I, for one, am a bit lazy and don''t want all that extra weight on my back. I need to be quick on my feet, too, and sometimes the wings knock everything over, so I wear mine for formal events only." Evangeline approached me, and I took a small step backwards. Frowning, she handed me the clothes from an arm¡¯s length away. "You''re skittish. You weren''t before." Then it occurred to her, and she laughed. "You think I''m going to kill you!"


    My lips trembled. "Your parents sent your brother to assassinate me. The council wanted him to extract me, but your parents probably learned of the mission and approached him before he went," I accused. Rhiannon had put on a convincing act, berating the archangel about going behind her back and assigning Kyrian to extract me.


    "And you think that since I''m a part of the Zakaria family, I''m out for your blood, too? Perhaps I''ll slit your throat while you''re sleeping, poison your food, use my seraphic abilities on you?"


    I swallowed. "Your father wanted you to attend to me while I''m in Elysium."


    Evangeline rolled her eyes. "He just didn''t want Emerson to have access to you anytime he wanted. He doesn''t trust him."


    "That was very obvious."


    "Bria, I''m not going to kill you," Evangeline declared. "I don''t know if you want me to swear a blood oath. Or if you want me to leave for the night, you can stay here. I''ll talk to Emerson and have him send up a league of guards to secure the perimeter so you can rest well."


    I shifted on my feet, suddenly uncertain. "You''re going to go against your family''s beliefs?"


    Evangeline gave another one of her characteristic snorts. "Bria, I''ve been alive for millenniums. You¡¯re the subject of much political controversy right now, and you are not the first thing that I''ve disagreed with my parents on." Evangeline approached with a few gingerly steps. She placed a hand on my arm. Genuine earnestness radiated from her eyes. "Look, my mother didn''t order your assassination because she hated you¡ªand I¡¯m sure it was her who told Kyrian to kill you. She''s just fearful, that''s all. She thinks you''re a very dangerous pawn in the game, a game consisting of people who have vast amounts of power and influence. My family doesn''t trust the archangel council or mage government, and she just didn''t want you to fall into their hands. It still doesn''t make what she attempted to do okay, but she''s a very old woman. She''s spent her entire life maneuvering chess pieces around on the board to survive and protect what''s hers. The next time you see her, you can punch her right in the nose."


    "I''m not going to punch your mother!"


    "She''s immortal; she''ll be okay," Evangeline shrugged. "Now that you''re here with us, she''s not going to order some secret assassin to come and kill you. And if she does, I''ll kick that assassin''s ass and you and I can spend the rest of the night drawing penises on his face."


    The seraph princess seemed genuine enough that I trusted her to not hurt me. I relaxed and went to put on the clothing Evangeline provided. Since we were staying in for the night, she gave me a set of pink and white striped pajamas to wear. "So, are you more of a wine kind of girl or a wild one who prefers shots?" Evangeline asked as I walked away.

 FIFTEEN

    An explosion interrupted my sleep. I sat straight up in Evangeline''s bed and, in the effort to find cover, slipped to the floor, bruising my bottom. Wide awake, I stared at the blooming cloud of smoke coming from the center of Evangeline''s apartment. The seraph was coughing and waving her hands to clear the smoke away from her face. As soon as she could breathe again, she darted for the balcony door to yank it wide open. Realizing that I was alive and unharmed, although with a massive pounding pain against the forefront of my head, I hooked my elbows onto the bed and heaved myself back onto the mattress.


    "Sorry about that... I didn''t mean to wake you!" Evangeline said. While I had been sleeping, she had been working at the table in her studio apartment. Before I had passed out, there had been a single orchid on the table. Now, chemistry tools, a brass cauldron, and notebook were arranged across the table''s surface. The dagger Kyrian had asked Evangeline to investigate was on the table before the cauldron.


    Brushing some hair out of my face, I asked, "What happened?"


    The seraph shook her head. With her hands on her hips, she explained, "I was just checking the dagger against all the regular potions, seeing if it reacted to a particular one so I could identify the potion Adriana used to forge the blade."


    "I think you got your answer."


    "Unfortunately, no," Evangeline denied as she considered her notebook. "That was not the correct reaction for that combination. It was simply an explosive negative." A small smiled crept to her face over her word play. She returned to her workstation. Once there, she stared down at her notebook. "I''m running out of potions to test, though. I know the basics, but it isn''t like I''m an expert or anything."


    My body still hurting from all the poisonous toxins I had subjected it to last night, I flung myself back onto the bed. My arm draped over my eyes to block out the morning sunlight flooding in through the open balcony door. "Did you even sleep?" I asked Evangeline, incredulous. Her apartment still had remnants of our two-person party. It had already been a mess with all her clothes flung about. We had added to it with the numerous bottles of wine and vodka, plates of tapas, and even more clothes as we dressed up and danced to high-energy songs. Evangeline, despite her status, was open and friendly, and thus easy for me to bond with. It was like I was back in college with Skye¡ªonly more relaxing, as I didn''t have the looming mountain of schoolwork hovering over me.


    "No." Evangeline declared. "I wanted to get this done for Kyrian, just to make sure that he''s all right and he doesn''t have some crap inside of him that will turn him into a demon or kill him slowly, somehow stripping away his immortality. I wouldn''t put it past Adriana," Evangeline muttered darkly. Evangeline picked up her notebook and flipped through the pages.


    A theory popped into my mind. "Is she the reason Kyrian has to be invisible all the time?" Evangeline had refused to tell me the previous day, and I hoped that she would tell me now that we had interacted a bit more.


    "You mean the wicked, vindictive witch who felt scorned enough to make Kyrian''s life a living hell if he ever returned to his seraph family? Yes, she cursed Kyrian. He''s under some horrible fairy tale curse I''m not certain there is a happy ending for."


    "What do you mean?"


    A series of hard knocks against Evangeline''s door interrupted our conversation. Evangeline frowned, glanced at the door, and put her notebook down. I heard her footsteps traveling across the floor to meet the sound. In what was probably only twenty seconds at most, but seemed like an infinity from my painful perspective, the knocking stopped. Even with my arm over my head, I could hear the conversation occurring at the door.


    "Archangel Emerson would like to see Ms. Disraeli and you in the atrium immediately," a neutral masculine voice informed Evangeline. I frowned, immediately disliking the order. I shifted onto my stomach out of protest.


    "She''s still sleeping," Evangeline lied. "Does it have to be now, or can he wait until she wakes up?" Evangeline inquired.


    "It has to be now," the messenger responded.


    Evangeline assured him she would escort me to the atrium. Following it, my ears captured the sounds of her shutting the door and returning to the main apartment. "I guess Emerson wants to see you," she commented nonchalantly. I watched as Evangeline went to one of her cabinets, grabbed something from within, and shut it.


    "What does he want to see me for?"


    "I''m not too sure." Her footsteps carried her to the mini kitchenette, where I heard water flowing. She tore open a packet, and then there were a series of chimes, like a spoon crashing against the glass. I hoped she would delay as long as possible and make the archangel wait for me. That was not the case, however, and after the chimes stopped, footsteps approached the bed. She set down something on the bedside table. The mattress dipped with her weight as she sat next to me. Her hand pressed against my back and rubbed it. "Bria."


    I grumbled a refusal and readjusted my arm to cover my face. Evangeline went from rubbing my back to patting it. "Come on. I have a hangover drink for you. It''s not a hamburger, fries, and coke, but it does the job just as well." I groaned at the thought of the ultimate hangover meal. It was one that Skye, Xavier, and I had shared frequently.


    "Can I just stay here?"


    Evangeline laughed. "I''m not sure if I advise that. Emerson may just come here himself and pull you out of bed."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "That would be embarrassing," I agreed. It was enough motivation, however. My arm flopped away from my face, and I transitioned onto my back. Evangeline shifted on the bed to distance herself.


    "You look like you just had an all-out war in the ninth circle of hell," she commented blandly. She reached to grab the glass she had set on the bedside table and handed it to me after I sat up. I glanced into the glass. To my surprise, it looked like a chocolate milkshake. Pensively, I took a sip of the substance. I was happy to learn that it tasted like a chocolate milkshake. I looked at Evangeline, questioning. "Seraphim ingenuity," she shrugged.


    I examined her as she moved around the room. This was the most laid-back I had seen her. Her hair had been shoved into a messy high bun; her face was in its natural state; and her clothes baggier. There were streaks of a gray substance across her face and staining the palms of her hands.


    "Is he going to be okay?" I asked in between sips. Evangeline did not need me to clarify whom I was talking about.


    "As far as I could figure out, he''ll survive," Evangeline stated.


    * * *


    Twenty minutes later, Evangeline and I walked into the chateau''s atrium as presentable as twenty minutes could make us. This was a different part of the chateau I had yet to be in. We entered a grand hall. Even though I knew better, I let myself be taken in awe over the beauty of my surroundings. Rows of glass windows followed the hall down. Each window contained different imagery in colored glass. One had a field of tulips in front of a mountain range. Another had a seraph high in the air, with his mighty wings spread wide, and a golden halo hovering just above his head. The one next to it depicted a small pond with a forest of pine trees bordering its backside. Colored glass had been inserted into the floor, destroying the monotony of the gray cobblestone. I also caught specks of it up in the glass ceiling. There were comfortable looking leather chairs arranged to promote conversation throughout the hall, although no one was using them at the moment. Perhaps any bystanders had been frightened away by the presence of authority at the front of the atrium.


    Emerson was standing in between a group of seraphim and a person I''d never seen before. Rhiannon and Jakobi were also present. A handful of seraph soldiers were arranged around the group. They were unnecessary, as it seemed like all the seraphim had military training, even Evangeline. The outsider had come alone.


    Curious, I eyed him as Evangeline and I approached. Wings didn''t sprout from his shoulder blades, and he lacked that ethereal quality all seraphim seemed to have, as if they had stardust coursing through their veins. He was also extremely nondescript: if I had seen him in a crowd, nothing would have held my attention. An average height and weight, he had a full head of dull brown hair that was not in any particular style. He dressed conservatively, almost as if he was returning from an office meeting. He had the foundations of a beard growing. As nondescript and simple he was, this made him even more approachable.


    "I thought we were going to discuss this at the council meeting," Rhiannon was arguing as we neared. Her face was flushed from her anger, while her eyes spoke of betrayal and suspicion. Evangeline and Kyrian''s father, Jakobi, was also frowning deeply, standing by Rhiannon''s side.


    Emerson didn''t try to placate the royals. "I contacted Sebastien after our previous discussion when I learned demons had been involved in the extraction," he explained. "This is not a mere coincidence, and I am concerned that we cannot maintain her safety here with us. Briara Disraeli belongs with the mages, her people, and it isn''t our right to keep her from her people. I also didn''t want to chance a demon invasion if I waited for your meeting.¡±


    "Fighting demons is what our purpose is," Rhiannon said through clenched teeth. "It''s absurd that you thought we would not be able to keep her safe against demons here! We''re the best the universe has!"


    Emerson simply shrugged, as if he didn''t want to put in the energy to argue with the queen.


    Rhiannon''s shoulders tensed, and she stepped forward. Jakobi''s hand pressed down against her shoulder to prevent her from moving, acting as an anchor against her rage. Her hands were fisted at her sides. "Disraeli is not a mage," she snarled. "If the mages wanted her that much, then they should have gotten her before she could ruin so many mortal lives. Maybe then she would have been trained to control her magic. Now it''s a moot point. She''s already destroyed, it''s in her blood. She''ll do it again if left unfettered!"


    The strange man tilted his head in curiosity; he failed to be affronted by Rhiannon''s wrath. "While I absolutely agree with you, Queen Rhiannon, about our failure to be proactive before, I have to disagree when it pertains to the future. It was a failure on our part that we did not realize there was one of our own amongst the mortals, especially with such a magnitude of power at her disposal. Training to control their abilities is imperative for all mages. We all saw what happens when a mage is not trained and that power, that energy, is left to fend for itself."


    The discussion faded as Evangeline and I took the last steps of our approach. Emerson stepped in between Evangeline and me to put his hand on my elbow. He applied slight pressure on my elbow to guide my attention onto the man, the mage. He effectively blocked out the royal family from the new conversation circle he had formed. "Chancellor Kersey, I would like for you to meet Briara Disraeli."


    "Sebastien," the man corrected, already turning towards me. He placed his hands over his heart, his left under his right, and bowed his head slightly. "It''s a pleasure, Briara.¡±


    Unaccustomed to his cultural greeting, I just nodded at him and presented a small, nervous smile. Emerson patted my shoulder. "Sebastien Kersey is the mage chancellor. He''s the one who requested our help to retrieve you from the mortals."


    Heart pounding, I glanced at Sebastien with more interest. Who was this man with enough power to delegate such a task to the archangel council? His arms had moved back to his sides, where I saw a large ruby ring sitting on Sebastien''s right middle finger. The ruby was in an emerald cut, and if the ring had been any bigger, it would have been garish. Sebastien was inspecting me, as well. What he was thinking remained concealed underneath his expression. "I think it is time for you to be reunited with your people," Sebastien informed me with a small, inviting smile. "I am very appreciative the seraphim could help me out by bringing you here while I dealt with an emergency that arose. While I''m sure their hospitality was on point, it''s time to get you acquainted with Astraera. Emerson, we''ll schedule a later date to meet."


    I was a bit surprised to feel saddened to be leaving Elysium this soon. My surprise increased when Evangeline pulled me into a hug and told me goodbye. Her parents'' distant and formal goodbye was to be expected. Archangel Emerson wished me luck. None of them followed when the mage chancellor led me away from the seraphim and raveled us away. The sensation was similar to when Kyrian had raveled at the apartment in Denver. I was just as apprehensive now as I was then. The unexpected waited ahead. I had never contemplated where a population of mages would live. I had never contemplated belonging to a group of magical people.


    The promise of a new life offered a hope of a future different than prison.

 SIXTEEN

    The ravel transported us to a minimalistic, rectangular office. A massive white desk occupied one side of the room. A black leather office chair was pushed in behind the desk, while two smaller chairs were on the other side of the desk, angled inward. Beyond the desk, a sitting area complete with a couch, loveseat, and two more chairs occupied the rest of the room. Built-in shelves decorated the far side of the room and shared space with a large black marble globe set on a pedestal. Two black doors formed one large entry on the inner wall. The outer wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling glass windows.


    My gaze was immediately captured by the scenery outside of the wall of windows.


    The office was a part of a bigger building that had been built on the apex of the surrounding land. From the windows, I could see a city sprawled out below. I quickly realized that we were in a castle of some sort. The lower levels of the castle emerged from underneath the office. Even these lower levels earned their own awe-inspiring heights above the rest of the city. If I looked down at them at an angle, I could see rows and rows of windows. There were towers and turrets at a lower elevation. Some of them had spires. At the base of the castle, small, one-way roads descended to the lower levels of the city. The castle was the central point of the city. From the curve of the outer walls, which I could see from my vantage point, I detected the city was circular. This concept continued outward, as all the streets and buildings seemed to be on a circular matrix.


    Beyond the outer city circles, there was just water. We were in the middle of an ocean. Mountains rose from the water. There was a large pedestrian bridge to my left. It touched down on the island before leading out far over the sea until the fog concealed it, and I couldn''t see how long it was or to where it connected.


    Sebastien came to stand beside me. "It''s impressive, isn''t it?"


    I nodded. "Is this where all the mages live?"


    Sebastien chuckled. "Oh, heavens no. We would be in a housing crisis if that was the case. We''ve been forced to expand into the mortal world. Because of the current state of politics, we''ve been living under concealment to evade detection. We make it work, yes. At least here, at least in Astraera, our capital, we can act freely. We don''t have to be aware of our surroundings whenever we need to use magic."


    Sebastien moved away from the view and made his way over to the sitting area. There was a little cart pushed against the wall; on it was a pitcher of a creamy brown liquid and a platter of miniature scones. Feeling compelled to follow him to continue our conversation, and perhaps to get some answers finally, I reluctantly left the view. I was rewarded when Sebastien continued to speak as he separated the liquid into two tall glasses. "Our census department does an exceptional, if lofty, task in keeping records on every mage. We have some fifteen thousand mages scattered throughout the universe, with seven thousand living in Astraera. Still, you never popped up on their radar."


    Coming back towards me with the drinks in his hand, and the platter of scones levitating over his shoulder, he motioned to sit down on the couch. Slightly uncomfortable, I took a seat on the edge of the cushion. "Does that happen sometimes? A mage going unaccounted for?"


    "Absolutely not." Sebastien handed me one glass. To my surprise, the glass was slightly chilled. "There comes great moral responsibility in being able to control the elements. This ability can be used in a good way, or in a bad way, to affect others. With the mortal population being so vulnerable, it is a responsibility of our government to ensure the mortals are not being taken advantage of. To do this, we must know about every single mage and what his affinity is. We failed with you. You were not on our radar until after the Union Station Massacre. If you had been, we could have gotten you the training you needed to control your magic and perhaps prevented the whole thing."


    The chill from the glass spread to my hands when the chancellor referenced the massacre. "So I used magic during the massacre?"


    Sebastien nodded. "You did." He reached out and touched my shoulder. "I know you probably think we should have left you in that cell to rot. I know you feel tremendous remorse over what you were in the middle of. That¡¯s a good thing, and yet, it¡¯s time to move on. If I thought for one second you intended to cause that much destruction, you would still be in that cell. It all comes down to a matter of intention versus negligence. I have been following your case ever since it started to be plastered across the mortal news. I have reviewed your interview transcripts. There is no way that the massacre was intentional on your part. Nor, since you did not know about your mage heritage, does the negligence fall on you. It falls on your mother."


    "My mother?" My grip tightened around the glass. I had to remind myself to breathe.


    "This was one reason I wanted to get you myself and not send an escort." Sebastien started. "One of the first questions I had when I started reviewing your case and why no one knew about you was who you were related to. It is possible, although not common, for two mortals to birth a mage child¡ªbut it''s even more uncommon for that child to evade detection. However, everything became clearer when I was reviewing the transcript from your second interview at the psych hospital, the one that detailed your past and childhood. In it, you mentioned that your mother''s name was Madeleine."


    "How did you get that?" As far as I knew, the court had restricted access to those records.


    That small smile reappeared on Sebastien''s face. "We have some connections with the mortal political leaders," Sebastien informed. "At first, it was confusing, as there had never been a Madeleine Disraeli on the census record. However, before she left mage society, your mother was well known. She made quite a political stir a couple of years before her disappearance, and was a socialite, coming from a well-known mage family. It seemed impossible that your mother was the same Madeleine that Astraera and the mage community knew. Yet, the timelines meshed. Madeleine disappeared from Astraera seven months before your birth."


    I felt my eyes widened over the possibility. Feeling disconnected from my body, I shook my head. "She never mentioned anything about mages or Astraera. If all of this is even true. If our two Madeleines are one of the same." I glanced at him, searching for clarification. A part of me still believed this was one colossal mistake.


    "I know it''s quite a lot to take in. I can''t even imagine," Sebastien sympathized. "Madeleine should have been the one to explain your bloodline to you. If not Madeleine, then Galileo, who I know watched over you after Madeleine''s death. Yes, Galileo was a mage as well," Sebastien commented as shock and dismay overwhelmed my face. "Galileo was working as a professor at our reformatory, until one night, he disappeared. Two other children vanished as well: his nephew and one of his students. There were unconfirmed rumors that your mother, Madeleine, had appeared on school grounds a couple of days earlier. His cabin on the school grounds burned down from a fire. We never found bodies in the wreckage and knew he was still alive. We figured he had vanished for his own reasons and took the two boys with him. It remained an unsolved mystery for the past nineteen years until you revealed yourself."


    I remembered the fire Sebastien was referring to. Since it occurred around my mother''s death and Galileo''s school cabin was the last place I saw her, the memories remained vivid. From our first step onto the manicured lawn, where I saw the uniformed students lined up for inspection, to the ennui I felt in Galileo''s cabin, where we stayed for three days, the memories never left me.


    I knew my mother needed Galileo to decipher her research. I remembered the long hours my mother and I would spend in the cabin while Galileo was fulfilling his obligations. It was one large room filled with all the essentials required for simple living. Due to the secrecy of the visit, the blinds to the only two windows had to remain shuttered. For three days, I sat in darkness that was mitigated slightly by the single lamp in the room.


    The only excitement came when Kit, Galileo''s nephew, pounded on the door for twenty minutes at a time, demanding to be let in. He was not aware of Galileo''s sudden guests, or why he suddenly had to stop visiting Galileo, his only relative. I remembered the hushed conversations Madeleine and Galileo would have when they thought I was sleeping on the cot Galileo seemingly yanked out of thin air; they had mastered the art of whispering, and all I got were indecipherable murmurs.


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    On the third day, my mother left the cabin after another hushed conversation with Galileo. She whispered her goodbyes to me when my mind was sodden with sleepiness. Had I known that would be the last time I would ever see her, I would have barricaded her in. Although she never promised to return, and instead promised that she was going to defeat that monster who had been stalking us, I felt betrayed a day later when that monster attacked the cabin.


    The attack happened in the middle of the night. Galileo had been out supervising a student''s detention, leaving me alone in the cabin. I had woken up immediately as the front door shattered inward, wooden shards flying everywhere. The monster had come after me. I fended it off as well as I could. Fortunately, as a small eight year old, there were many places for me to scurry to and hide in until I could catch my breath. I had delayed my attacker long enough for Kit to arrive. Kit, who had become suspicious over his uncle''s activities ever since he became an unauthorized party at the cabin, had been surveilling the cabin that night. When he saw the attacker set the first fire, he never hesitated. He ran from the dormitories all the way down to the cabin. He proved enough of a distraction for the monster to allow Galileo and his troubled student, Jay, to arrive. By then, the cabin was in shambles. Flames were adding to the destruction. Galileo''s arrival had caused the monster to flee. With sorrow in his eyes, Galileo understood what had happened to my mother, as did I.


    "He became my caretaker. My mother asked him to if she failed to come back.¡±


    "Two boys also disappeared that night," Sebastien prodded.


    "Jay and Kit," I confirmed with a nod. "They got entangled in the mess with the attacker. My anonymity was imperative, and Galileo understood that. So he took the three of us and we vanished."


    Sebastien shifted on the couch, a pensive expression on his face. "Why was it so important for Madeleine to keep you a secret?"


    "All I know is that there was someone she was terrified of."


    Sebastien''s eyes darkened for moments as they narrowed. He shook off the darkness and switched the subject. "Well, you certainly have shed some light on the mystery of that night. Still, Madeleine and Galileo had the responsibility of training you in your abilities, or if they could not do it themselves, enroll you in the Academia. Neither of us know why they failed to do so. However, the opportunity hasn''t vanished. I would like to give you the opportunity to learn how to control your magic. You''re years older than when a mage child usually enters the Academia to start their coursework, so I was planning on getting you private instruction once you have been evaluated."


    "How long will it be before I can control it?"


    "It depends. Every child is unique. Some are out of the Academia in ten years; others, it takes twice as long. I''ll get you scheduled with the evaluators now that you are here, and we can see what you are working with. Are you worried about having another magical outburst?" Sebastien questioned.


    I nodded. "The massacre just happened suddenly. There didn''t seem to be a trigger for it."


    Sebastien sat further back into the cushions. A part of me was jealous. My spine was getting exhausted from my authoritarian posture. I still didn''t feel comfortable enough to just relax. "The ability to control magic comes from a deep pit inside of us, somewhat like a well. However, if we don''t use it, there is the possibility that it will build up inside of that well. When it becomes too full, it overflows. This causes outbursts to occur as the magic seeks elsewhere to go because the human body can''t contain it anymore." I bit my lip in consideration. His explanation made sense and applied to the past four years. The outburst I had at the jail during my escape was unexpected and uncontrolled.


    "That was the first outburst I''ve had, though, and I don''t recall using magic before then. Shouldn''t I have had one a lot sooner?"


    "There are ways for someone, a parent perhaps, to restrict her child''s ability. Although it is frowned upon by mage society, it is possible." Sebastien informed. He folded his fingers over his lap.


    I tilted my head. "You think my mother did that with me?"


    "I do," Sebastien answered. "When I was reviewing the records from your case, there was a piece of evidence located on the train station terminal floor right where you stood during the massacre. It was described as a black stone foreign to the American landscape. It is possible that it was what is known to our people as a rasa stone. These stones can restrict a person''s magic if it is inside of his body."


    My mind exploded into chaos as it scrambled to find answers. Why would my mother, or even Galileo, restrict my ability? Why lead a life of lies and try to avoid a world all of us belonged to? If they had trained me, then maybe I could have fended against the monster stalking my mother that night. Did Jay and Kit know about any of this? Had they been complicit? Kit and Jay had been going to the reformatory before I came and threw their lives into an upheaval. Since Jay disappeared two years ago and Kit had been dead longer than that, I couldn''t ask them. Then there were Galileo''s missions: were they connected to Astraera and the mage world? It was difficult to not feel blindsided and betrayed by those who I had called family.


    Had I been the only na?ve one?


    "It is important for us to give you a chance at life and being a productive member of our society," Sebastien said, effectively distracting me from my chaotic thoughts. "You were never given a chance to learn how to control your ability, and the massacre was not your fault. I did not think it would be proper to let someone who can be a good force in the world rot in a prison cell for the rest of her life; it would be quite wasteful, actually. The mages are going to be making a massive push to change the world, make it better, and I would like for you to be there for that. Our focus has been on this change, which is why I had to use the seraphim to help get you here. I knew they could accomplish the mission using stealth and limited resources, while for us, it would have taken more and quite possibly jeopardize our progress with the mortals."


    A thought darted across my mind, distracting me. The sanctuary seemed impossible, just as magic was impossible from the mortal perspective. I wondered if the sanctuary was connected to the strain of magic running through my veins. My gaze darted up to glance at Sebastien, and my mouth opened with the lingering question. "Is there something you''d like to ask, Briara?¡± Sebastien prompted.


    I hesitated, the question drying out my mouth. Then my lips snapped shut, and I reconsidered. There was something internal that was determined to keep Hawk and the sanctuary safe. My mind raced to formulate an alternative response. "Can you tell me more about the Valeion?¡± I asked instead.


    Sebastien peered at me with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean?"


    ¡°From what I have been able to piece together from everything, you have been talking to both the daemeyri and mortals to establish a united government?"


    Sebastien relaxed when my tone displayed curiosity rather than criticism. "I forget that your mother didn''t tell you too much¡ªif anything¡ªabout mage culture," Sebastien conceded. He leaned forward to grab a scone and looked pointedly at me. To be polite, I took one and ate it as he explained. "We have a belief that the entire universe will be united under one government in the future, and this government will host a promised paradise. This belief came about when a prophet by the name of Aurora arrived a century after the Divines'' departures and announced her vision. By then, the divisions between daemeyri, seraphim, and mages were already gaping chasms, and her vision was too idealistic. She claimed that the divided world would reach a point where the accumulating darkness would consume and destroy it, and the paradise she mentioned would be our only hope."


    I swallowed the piece of scone I had in my mouth. "And you believe the time is now to push for this unification?"


    "Yes." The chancellor confirmed with conviction.


    I tilted my head. "And the Instruments of Korre? How do they play into this?" I brushed the crumbs from the scone off my pants.


    Sebastien''s eyes narrowed slightly again. "How do you know about those?" His hands settled into his lap, the red ruby ring glinting in the morning sunlight.


    "I overheard the meeting with the daemeyri.¡±


    "That disastrous meeting," Sebastien sighed. "Between you and me, I''m quite glad I missed it." After a couple of seconds of silence, Sebastien answered in an even tone, "They are thought to be the very equipment required to usher in the paradise¡ªas long as certain things are in place before they are activated."


    "What if you can''t get every mortal country to agree to this paradise?"


    "They will in the end," Sebastien assured me with a nod. "Mages are skilled in the art of verbal persuasion. We already have twenty-five percent of the mortal countries on board."


    Sebastien paused, giving me a chance to respond. However, he had just provided a massive amount of information that I was trying to comprehend. It was all I could do to quell that feeling of being overwhelmed, which was probably written on my face. "Enough of this talk. You probably want to get acquainted with everything and rest¡ªyou''ve been through a lot these past couple of days. There is a formal dinner tonight, and I would like for you to attend. The Senate is elated you are here and excited to meet you, and I think it would be good for you to become acquainted with them. They voted unanimously on extracting you from the mortal world."


    "I didn''t think I was that important," I muttered, a red flush coming to my cheeks.


    "Your mother, despite her later transgressions, was very well known, and then there is the fact that you''ve evaded our detection for nineteen years. You''ve become rather infamous amongst the mages."


    I sighed and attempted a meager smile, all the while wishing for the routine I had back in the jail cell.

 SEVENTEEN

    Sebastien was true to his word, and he gave me the rest of the morning to get acquainted with my surroundings. He led me to what were to be my personal quarters. They were on the third floor of the vast castle in what had been zoned for governmental residences. Although there were senators and other officials who had housing elsewhere, some housing had been set aside for members who kept their residences at the castle. Sebastien informed me that since they had been expecting me and acknowledging that I would probably be arriving with nothing, he was able to send a couple of his assistants out to purchase everything I might need until I could start feeling comfortable enough to do my own shopping. My quarters were ready for occupancy. His assistants had decorated it, but if I didn''t like it, or when I acquired my own belongings down the road, I could change it. Sebastien departed with the promise he would send a stylist in the afternoon to help me prepare for the dinner. I would have a couple of hours to rest.


    Compared to my jail cell, and the prison cell I had expected to find myself in, the castle''s new quarters were an upgrade. There was a front room equipped with two cream-colored loveseats facing each other. Built-in shelving contained decorative vases with artificial roses and orchids, glass paperweights, and a bronze statue of a female inscribed with flowers. There was a small rectangular table on the other side of the room; its four cushioned chairs were pushed underneath the table. On the table, there appeared to be a tablet put there for my later use and entertainment. A cabinet occupied space against the wall.


    Two French doors separated the drawing room from the bedroom. I was rather surprised to see a king-sized bed separating two nightstands. The headboard had been upholstered with a cream-colored material that matched the duvet. On the other side of the room, a large black dresser sat in between two doors. One led to a bathroom that had been fully furnished with towels and hygiene products. The second one went to a walk-in closet containing clothing and shoes. The sizes were appropriate; all of it had been curated for me. Intrigued, I opened one of the dresser drawers and noticed that several undergarments of different varieties had been provided. They were an upgrade from the recycled cotton underwear the jail rotated on a weekly basis.


    The apartment contained two massive windows: one next to the loveseats and the other in the bedroom. Both, I noticed, overlooked a courtyard contained by the castle''s interior walls. Gardeners had accepted the challenge of making the courtyard aesthetically pleasing by using different flower combinations to produce art. Benches were placed throughout the cobblestone square. There was no one enjoying the courtyard garden at the moment. Beyond, I could see just the edge of the island, where a rocky coastline yielded to the ocean.


    I laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. I had left all my belongings behind in my jail cell, expecting that returning was inevitable. There were Jay''s letters and the pictures Skye had sent me¡ªperhaps the only sentimental items I had. It saddened me they would be lost forever. However, I most yearned for the pills I had secreted away in the wall. I needed time in the sanctuary. I needed its grounding effects and to talk to Hawk about all of this, because right now, I was wrapped up in a swarm of chaos.


    Yet, by myself, I could not access the sanctuary. I had never relaxed enough to do so and needed the pills. I tried to relax for ten minutes until I got up from the bed and left my apartment. There was one task I had to do before I met with Sebastien''s stylist.


    The chancellor''s stylist''s knock on my apartment door arrived when Sebastien had said it would. I had spent the late morning and early afternoon exploring the castle and finding a way to write a letter to Skye and had arrived back in my apartment only twenty minutes earlier. I spent the remaining time waiting by perusing the books on the bookshelves. Keeping myself distracted helped the nerves. Hearing the knock only unraveled all the progress I had made. My nerves were in tangles in my gut due to the anticipation of sharing a meal with the very people who governed magic. I had been raised to be anonymous. I always had some sort of alias to hide behind, some sort of objective to fulfill. Now, I had nothing.


    I swallowed against my anticipation and anxiety; it only made that weight in my stomach heavier. I opened the door to let the stylist in. A very put-together woman in a tailored blouse and skirt with flame-red hair forming a bob around her chin darted in through the doorframe. She was followed by a shorter, freckled woman with square-framed glasses and a feminine-looking male whose eyelash extensions were the longest I''d ever seen on a person. Her assistants carried a garment bag, a cosmetic trolley cart, and several boxes. They immediately walked to the bedroom to get set up. The stylist introduced herself as Ashlyn, one of the leading seamstresses in Astraera, and her assistants were Chiara and Soren. According to her, she specialized in supplying costumes and styling for the yearly masquerade, and Sebastien had employed her services to help me dress for the night''s dinner.


    After four years of being locked up in a jail cell, the amount of attention I got that afternoon differed greatly from my normal routine. While the other inmates could make eyeshadow and blush out of colored pencils and food, curl their hair using torn up blankets, and cut their hair with nail clippers, I never gave that much energy to my appearance. There was no reason to. I had maintained good hygiene and health, and that was the extent of it. Even when I was with Evangeline, I had just focused on hygiene and getting out of that uniform.


    Ashlyn, Chiara, and Soren made it seem like I was swept out of my cell and up into a fairytale. They cleaned up my bushy eyebrows, plucking all the strays that had formed during those four years. Soren gave my hair a much-needed trim and ashy highlights before styling it in waves and two barrettes. Chiara concentrated on my face and used the tools in her cosmetic trolley to accentuate my eyes and cheekbones. For the formal dinner, Ashlyn had chosen a cream-colored dress that hit mid-thigh. Two large black buttons accented the shoulders and made it seem like they were holding the straps together.


    The effect was astonishing after years of seeing myself in only whites and reds. The Mary Jane platforms were uncomfortable after years of the plastic sandals, while I had to resist fidgeting with the gold bangle and earrings I was suddenly adorned with. Still, there was a bit of nostalgia in dressing up, and I remembered how to calm the twisted nerves while displaying the image of confidence and aplomb. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, my chin lifted a little higher, my shoulders pushed back further, and my face became void of any expression. My reddened lips were parted partly. My loosely curled hair draped in front of my shoulders and stretched down towards my naval.


    I had a moment of silence to appreciate the work Ashlyn and her team had done before Sebastien''s assistant arrived to take me to the dinner.


    He was a younger male with short, dark hair and pale skin. He was lanky, as if his muscles had not yet been developed. Youth and innocence still dominated his face, and although I couldn''t have been that many years older than he was, I felt like an old hag because of everything I''d been through. The assistant introduced himself as Milo. He was quite introverted and thus hardly said anything as he escorted me to the dinner. I tried to remember all the turns and different hallways during our journey so I could return to my apartment without getting lost afterwards. By the time we had reached the fifth floor, I had to admit premature defeat and accept that learning the castle''s layout would take time.


    Sebastien was waiting for me outside of the dining room. Two elegant doors formed the entryway to the area. They were partly shut to conceal what waited beyond. The murmur of many conversations drifted out in between the doors. "Thank you, Milo," Sebastien said with an accompanying nod acting as a greeting and dismissal. Milo nodded quickly in response before pivoting and disappearing down the hallway. Apparently, he was not invited. Sebastien turned to me. His eyes surveyed my form. "You look very nice," he complimented. I muttered something, feeling my cheeks warm. "Are you ready to go in and meet the peacocks¡ªEr, sorry, I meant the Senate?" His tone was joking, meant to help me relax. However, I got the sense that this was not the first time he had called them as such.


    I gave Sebastien a small smile and said, "If I turn around now, do I miss dinner?"


    "Absolutely not. There''s a cafeteria on the first floor," Sebastien said. "I can''t be absolutely sure the quality of food will be comparable to what you will receive tonight. No one would hold it against you if you wanted to postpone this dinner."


    "No, I''m ready.¡± I appreciated his offer of retreat.


    "I promise they won''t attack.¡± Sebastien pushed one door open, revealing a stately dining room. His bold ruby ring glinted against the light for a moment. He leaned against the door, allowing me to step through first. With a deep breath to calm the anxiety hijacking my gut, I took my first step into the dining room.


    Like Sebastien''s office, one entire wall was dedicated to floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked one side of the circular city. The sun was completing its descent and darkness was consuming the twilight. My desire to survey the city was prevented by the mass of senators waiting for me in the dining room. The conversations I had heard beyond the door vanished as everyone turned towards the entrance upon my arrival. I saw both females and males standing in groups no larger than seven people. Most of them had either a wineglass or a cocktail glass clutched in one hand. For a few seconds, everything stopped.


    Interest aroused their expressions as I came under their scrutinization, which I exchanged. The women were in knee-length dresses or full pantsuits. What boldness the men got with their colored ties, the women gained through their colored jackets. They looked older than thirty, while the eldest appeared to be in his eighties. I saw a man with a full head of pure white hair. Another man, this one of a Hispanic origin, had a mustache and towered over his peers. A black woman appeared to have bold reddish highlights to her dark shoulder length hair. The last two carried a tension that could only be generated from being engaged in an intense political debate.


    I analyzed every single one of them, searching for differences in between them and the mortals. I couldn¡¯t find any. If they were walking down a busy New York City street as a group, I wouldn''t be able to identify them as mages. There wasn''t any clear indication that any of them could manipulate the elements. I tried to find something different. There was absolutely nothing: no tails, unusual irises, pointed ears, gills on their forearms¡ªthey were completely normal. I almost didn''t believe they could control the universe''s elements.


    I nearly jumped when a hand settled on my shoulder. Sebastien had followed me into the dining room.


    "Is this her?" inquired a smaller woman, who stepped forward and out of the crowd. Her skin had a leathery look to it and her nose was one of the most prominent features on her face. Her expression was formed with a mixture of curiosity and kindness. Despite her size, she held herself with confidence and authority. Both came across in her bold voice.


    I glanced at Sebastien again, catching his small smile. "Senators, this is Briara Disraeli. Briara, these are the women and men who make up the Senate," Sebastien introduced. "It looks like the chief senator would like to speak to you while I get us some refreshments. Do you have a preference?" Eyeing the cart that had been pushed to the side of the room and featured a variety of glasses and bottles, I murmured my choice. Sebastien disappeared, leaving me to face the senators alone.


    The first one to approach and introduce herself was the smaller woman who had initially stepped out of the crowd of her peers. Most of her graying hair had been captured into a chignon, though there were some fly-aways framing the curve of her circular face. The bold red dress she was wearing covered her full figure and made her seem younger, more vibrant. As she approached me, her eyes sparkled with genuine cheerfulness. Her left hand landed over her heart, with her right-hand laying over it, mimicking the greeting Sebastien had given me when I had first met him.


    "Briara, it''s a pleasure,¡± she said. "I¡¯m Katharine Kolst, the chief senator. I''m overjoyed that we could bring you into our world. If there''s anything you need, please don''t hesitate to ask. I want to ensure your transition goes well. If everything we''ve seen is still true, you have quite the potential! I knew your mother well. She went to the Academia with my son, and then shadowed me when she developed an interest in politics. It is truly an honor to have met you, her daughter!" Katharine''s exuberance flooded over into her words.


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    Although Katharine had more to say, and questions lurking in her eyes, our meeting was cut short by the others who were now surrounding us, waiting for their turns. I was surrounded by strangers and a storm of names. The smile permanently plastered to my face seemed like it was all a hoax. My neck became strained from the number of times I nodded in response to the flood of words that accompanied the introductions. My mouth became parched, and I was lucky I rarely had to speak. My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. Although I tried to keep track of the senators'' names, there were just too many.


    Those with unusual characteristics stood out. I quickly learned that the Hispanic man with the mustache and loud, blooming voice was Ramiro Chavarria. Another man armed with a charming, flirtatious attitude, dark brown hair, and blue eyes caused my cheeks to heat and turn red when he said his name was Damian Travers. He set a bold hand on my upper arm as he greeted me.


    I recognized the four who had been at the meeting in Elysium. The preachiness and arrogance Senator Alistair had displayed then seemed to be an element of his personality. The man knew he was handsome and used it as a weapon. When he introduced himself, he bowed several times with his hands over his heart and proclaimed how honored he was I could be here with them at such a monumental time. He also reached out to shake my hand. Astounded, I allowed him to possess it. His skin was warm against mine, and I wondered if that had to do with his fire abilities.


    Senator Alistair''s female companion, the one with all the piercings, was more approachable and friendly now than she had been at the meeting. Her smile seemed genuine. I learned her name was Meira Bhun. Dmitry Valens accompanied her as he had at the meeting, hovering behind her right shoulder and barely saying anything.


    It was the last man present at that meeting from whom I got a sense of foreboding. When he approached me, he never tried to smile past the prominent scowl on his face, and his greeting was robotic, forced. It was his eyes, however, that caused me alarm. There was not any genuine emotion behind them. They were filled with superficial emptiness right up to the barricade that kept his real thoughts concealed. They were lacking soul. He introduced himself with a grumble: Ciaran Wyn, before taking a sip of his cocktail. There was an obsidian ring mounted on his middle finger. Its starburst design was intricate.


    I was grateful when Sebastien returned with two wineglasses; one was filled with red, and the other with white. As soon as he handed me the white wine, I took a sip. My focus deteriorated a little when I recognized he had gotten me a Riesling, one of my favorites. With it clutched in my hand as a lifeline, I continued the introductions. I felt myself relax a little with the familiar taste in my mouth.


    The wine assisted when the Senate''s public information officer introduced himself at the trail end of introductions. The man was awkward as he asked Sebastien if he wanted a photograph to submit to the media. Sebastien was enthusiastic about the idea and pulled me over to stand before the windows. "I was going to do a media release to alert the public we have you here with us. After all, your story is amazing," Sebastien informed me as he settled into his pose. He set another hand on my shoulder and grinned at the officer. I forced a smile onto my face. The officer had a holographic screen pulled up in front of him. His face scrunched into concentration; his fingers darted across the screen to change several settings. I could see my reflection in the hologram. I was analyzing the contraption he was using right when the flash erupted, momentarily blinding me.


    "I''ll have the photo to the media by the morning for the front page." The PIO promised before vanishing into the crowd.


    I frowned after him. "I didn''t think my arrival here was so newsworthy," I muttered. Yet, I shouldn''t have been so surprised. Not after everything else.


    Sebastien pushed his hand through the air. "Here, you''re known as the mage who escaped detection, and as Madeleine Konstantinos''s daughter. As beloved as she was, they will be happy to see that she still lives on in you. You''ll be news for a couple of days, and then something else will take your place. It always does." I offered him a small grimace of a smile, although I was distracted by my mother''s real surname. Konstantinos. Out of all the aliases she had used during those eight years on the run, she had never returned to her original name.


    I bit my bottom lip. "Who was she to the mages that she was so widely well-known?" I wondered while wishing that the something else Sebastien had mentioned would happen quickly and remove me from the spotlight.


    Sebastien shook his head. "She touched many people''s lives, Briara.¡± We were interrupted by a man of Asian descent, preventing Sebastien from elaborating further. If I had to guess from his features and name, he was Korean. Dae-Seong was quite gregarious and pulled Sebastien into a discussion about the Academia and whether enrollment would be expanded to daemeyri students once the unification occurred. Although Sebastien engaged in the conversation politely, I could tell from his countenance that he was adversed to the idea, and he wanted mage education to remain segregated.


    When it came time to sit down at the table, which was a long rectangular one that occupied over two-thirds of the room and had been decorated with blue linens and gold silverware, I had already finished the wine. Sebastien removed the glass from my hands, and thrusting it towards a waiting server, assured me, "We''ll get you more at dinner." A bit flabbergasted, I followed him towards the far end of the table. He took the seat at the head and motioned for me to sit down in the first seat on his left. The senators slowly followed suit. I was happy to see that Katharine Kolst took the seat to Sebastien''s right; she had shown genuine enthusiasm, and I knew she wouldn''t allow too many awkward silences at the table. I was also relieved to see that Ciaran Wyn had been seated further down the table.


    Dinner started with a toast celebrating my presence in Astraera and a round of different varieties of bruschetta. One was a watermelon and feta variety, and the unsuspecting combination of ingredients almost made the four years of jail food worth it. Minestrone soup and arancini followed the bruschetta. A fresh green salad counteracted the heaviness of the soup and arancini. Although my hunger was satiated, I politely accepted the main course, which was gnocchi in a creamy pesto sauce. The pasta fell to the bottom of my stomach and weighed it down. After mediocre meals cooked by the inmate population for four years and created to only meet our nutritional needs, the seven-course meal was outstanding, and I couldn''t stop myself from gluttony and clearing every plate.


    To my relief, conversation during the dinner was constant, and I wasn''t expected to maintain it. On the other hand, I was often the focal point of discussion. "If you don''t mind me asking, and if this isn''t too prying, what was it like being in a mortal jail?" Katharine inquired before she took a bite of her salad. From the way the others perked up, I could tell that this was a question several people had.


    "I was in administrative segregation," I admitted, "so it was boring."


    Katharine nodded, as if she could understand that.


    "Why were you segregated?" The man sitting next to Katharine asked, frowning. I tried to remember his name and thought it was Cael. With his symmetrical face and piercing blue eyes, he was another that I wondered how far his appearance had carried him into influence.


    Using my fork, I fidgeted with my salad. "My crime enraged many people, including inmates. The jail chief did not want to risk me getting stabbed with a shank. I don''t think he really cared about my welfare in the end, but he also had the responsibility to see that I remained safe."


    "Interesting. At Caligo, everyone is in solitary," Cael clarified. "The thought is that if you screwed up that horribly to earn you a place in Caligo, you deserve it and the punishment that comes along with it. Most people go mad within a decade of incarceration."


    "The mage prison," Sebastien commented quietly upon seeing my inquisitive expression.


    "It''s somewhat hard not to when you barely have anything else to do and no one to talk to,¡± Katharine said.


    Cael grunted as he considered one of the table centerpieces. The gears in his mind were twisting as he wondered if he should say what was on his mind. Gauging the situation as appropriate, Cael said, "Zane Konstantinos was in the deep pits of Caligo for seven years. The reports said that he was as of sound mind during his sentencing as when he first went in." Next to me, Sebastien froze. His stare lingered on Cael.


    Several people at the table gave him intrigued glances. "Yes, but Zane Konstantinos was engrossed in books all the time. He was always checking materials out from the library leading up to his trial. His motivation to prove his rationale distracted him from the insanity," Ramiro claimed from several seats down. He positioned his elbows on the table and set his chin on his folded hands. From where I was sitting, I could see that he had his own obsidian starburst ring on his left middle finger. Curious, my gaze roamed around the table and inspected the senators'' fingers. More than two-thirds were wearing the rings. Dae-Seong, Katharine, and Cael were the exceptions.


    "He was probably figuring out how to escape from his cell," asserted Dae-Seong beside me. He pushed his glasses further back on his nose as we waited for the next comment. It was silent for a moment as the servers suddenly approached the table and collected our salad bowls. The noises of the bowls clanking together in the servers'' buckets disturbed the different discussions occurring across the table. Within thirty seconds, the servers disappeared from the dining room with dirty dishes. The servers who remained behind attended to people''s drinking glasses and topped them off. Mere seconds passed before the rest of the servers reappeared with the main course.


    Momentarily forgetting her gnocchi, Katharine leaned forward in her seat as she gave Sebastien a speculative look. He had remained quiet throughout the conversation, although his gaze had bounced from one person to the next as they had contributed. "We are certain that Bria''s mother was Madeleine Konstantinos... do you know who her father was?"


    I perked up with Katharine''s question. It was one that had plagued me ever since I could comprehend the concept of a nuclear family. Unfortunately, the chancellor shook his head. "That remains a mystery that only Madeleine can reveal, and she certainly isn''t speaking from the grave."


    "Madeleine was seen with several guys before her departure," Cael mused. His eyes flickered to me. "Did she ever say anything about who your father was?"


    "Never." I speared a single pesto-covered gnocchi and brought it up to my mouth.


    Katharine''s fingertip tapped the table. The speculative expression had expanded across her face; I was a puzzle she wanted to solve in more ways than one. "What about her affinity? Has that been determined yet?"


    "She just got into Astraera today, Katharine," Sebastien advised with a tight smile.


    "Maybe it will give insight into who her father was." Katharine shrugged in return. "What was Madeleine''s affinity again?"


    There was a pause before a gruff voice down the table answered. "Aerie." It was Ciaran who spoke. More than halfway down the table, he had been tracking our conversation. His assertion effectively silenced the different side conversations occurring in between us and him. His expression and eyes were still shuttered against any type of emotion.


    Katharine straightened, partly turning towards him, and leaning forward again to speak to him down the length of the table. "What about Zane Konstantinos?"


    "You can''t be serious."


    "Well, they were friends for a very long time before getting married. It''s also rather interesting that both Konstantinos and Briara defeated the fate of a lifelong prison sentence," Katharine debated. I stopped chewing my dinner as I focused on the conversation at hand, trying to gain as much information as possible.


    "Madeleine despised him after everything was revealed on the courtroom floor. She would have never returned to him again¡ªespecially since she had just returned to her family and was attempting to make amends with the court. Besides, unless she snuck into Caligo, there wasn''t even a chance for a remembrance fuck. The timeline of when Madeleine disappeared, Konstantinos''s escape, and Briara¡¯s birth doesn''t add up. Briara was born in December. Madeleine left that previous June, and Konstantinos escaped July," lectured Ciaran. I blinked partially from shock over how he knew my birthday.


    Katharine didn''t take his haughtiness very well. She blinked at him before addressing the rest of the table. "All I wanted to know was what Zane Konstantinos''s affinity was."


    "His was hali," Sebastien advised from the head of the table. He stared at everyone who had been involved in the conversation. In the effort to change the conversation, he nodded at Ramiro. "The first caelsphaera game is in a couple of weeks. How do you think your team will do this year after performing poorly in last year''s playoffs?" His redirection was successful, and it resulted in a new debate to consume our side of the table while the different side conversations resumed. Sebastien sat back in his chair and didn''t contribute anything else as several people, including Katharine, discussed each team''s merits, contemplating everything from off season trades to drafted rookies'' potential. The chancellor had circumvented the Senate''s attention off me and my possible birth relation to a mage criminal, and I was allowed to consume the rest of my meal in peace.


    The conversation remained focused elsewhere well into dessert. I was nibbling at a bowl of cr¨¨me br?l¨¦e when the dining room''s doors creaked at being pushed open. Surprised, I glanced up just in time to see a man in a military uniform stride in. His entrance disturbed the discussions happening at the table, and the room descended into a quick silence.


    At first, his bulging vest garnered my attention. The man was wearing an external carrier bulletproof vest. He had enough real estate on his vest to hold three extra magazines, a miniature radio, an unrecognizable weapon created out of blue metal, a dagger with an antique-looking hilt, an asp, and two pairs of handcuffs. He had a gun holstered on his right hip and more knives strapped to his left thigh. Two swords were holstered across his back. The man was decked out in an astonishing amount of weaponry that I counted on the fact he had more hidden on his person. The Velcro tape on his left side reflected what I assumed was his rank: M-25. He was carrying an envelope in his right hand.


    My eyes shifted upwards from the gear he had on. As soon as they did, my heart skipped a beat.


    Jay.

 EIGHTEEN

    It had been over two years since we had last seen each other on the other side of a screen, longer than that since we had breathed the same air. Time had changed him. The last time I had seen him, his complexion had been a dull gray from the drugs he was withdrawing from. His unwashed, shaggy hair had been in tangles around his face and shoulders. His hands, which had been rotating a business card around, had been speckled with dirt. He had been an animated skeleton with his bones poking out of his emaciated figure. Two years ago, he had allowed himself to become a victim of his circumstances. Time had roughened him, toughened him up.


    Now, his bones had disappeared underneath his skin. There were bulges of muscles he never had before. His face had color to it, as opposed to being sunken in. His hair had been shorn off a long time ago. However, that same charming arrogance radiated off him in his forward stride. He never had a problem with keeping his chin held high and his shoulders pushed back, even when he was withdrawing from the recent hit of blues.


    The moment my eyes met his, Jay stumbled forward in surprise. He caught himself within a step and straightened as he continued forward. He turned his gaze away as if he had never seen me, instead focusing on Sebastien.


    "Ah, Sergeant Britton." Sebastien''s eyes illuminated with more interest than I had seen from him over the course of the dinner. "Do you have something for me?"


    "I came as soon as it arrived, sir." Jay stopped in front of Sebastien, angling his body in such a way that he blocked me. Jay handed the envelope to Sebastien and stood at attention.


    Sebastien accepted the envelope. "Thank you. You are dismissed."


    Jay pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees and marched back across the room. I watched him until he reached the two doors and disappeared into the hallway. He never once looked back at me. He stared resolutely ahead and forced his face into impassiveness. His lips were pressed into a straight line, but there was tension lurking in between his shoulder blades. It stung, and suddenly, my body yearned to jump up and run after him. Force him to look at me.


    Biting my lip, I turned back to Sebastien. He had torn the envelope open with his butter knife and opened the single piece of folded paper inside of the envelope to read its contents. The paper was thick, preventing the ink from bleeding through. Stress captured every inch of my body as I waited for Sebastien to finish reading the note. His eyes shifted back and forth, left to right, several times. I was losing patience. Every second wasted on etiquette protocol meant Jay got further away from me. It increased the possibility of losing him again.


    "Chancellor, I need to excuse myself," I found enough courage to say. Sebastien didn''t look up from his letter as he made a noise that sounded like acceptance. Without waiting for further clarification, I pushed my chair backwards, threw the dinner towel on the table, and departed the dining room as quickly as I dared. I felt stares on my back, which I ignored. Whatever was in that letter had Sebastien distracted enough that he hadn''t even inquired if I needed a guide to the restroom.


    I came to a halt out in the hallway. The dining room doors slammed shut behind me. I tried to not breathe as I scanned the area for that familiar soul, though the pounding of my heart interfered with my concentration. He was easy to locate by sight and sound. His form bobbed as he descended the grand staircase at an even pace. Jay''s uniformed form was two landings below.


    I raced across the gallery to the grand staircase. I did my best to catch up with him, although it was harder to do so in my heels. As I increased my speed, I used the staircase¡¯s railing to keep my balance. His name echoed down the staircase as I called out for him. Whether he couldn''t hear me or ignored me like he had in the dining room, it wasn''t clear. Jay didn''t turn around.


    The staircase ended in an atrium. The gold decorative accents warred with its ivory backdrop. A couple of benches were pushed up against the wall, while potted trees added a bit of greenery and life to the castle''s entrance. Jay''s stride remained intentional across the white tiles that were outlined in a shimmering gold. He was pushing through the castle''s front entryway just as I landed on the same gold tiles. Fearing I would lose him outside, I darted to the front doors.


    When I reached the front entryway, I yanked the door back. It was heavier than it looked, and I had to strain to just pull it open wide enough that I could slip through. There was a small footbridge that connected the castle to the street to circumvent a stream of water. Jay had finished crossing it and finally stopped. His focus was on a motorcycle that had been propped up next to the bridge''s entrance to the castle. The castle loomed over us and cast us in its shadows.


    I cried out his name. "Jay!"


    Jay''s focus remained on detaching his helmet from the bike. I was halfway across the bridge. I propelled myself faster. Sheer determination had made me push past the fear of tripping over in my heels. I was at the point where I would chase after him if he hopped onto that bike and sped off.


    "Jay!" I cried. I stumbled to a halt when I was only a couple of feet away from him.


    Jay was about to put on his helmet but froze. Standing behind him, I saw his shoulders and back tense. They remained tensed as he slowly turned around to face me. His hands fell to his sides, one of them still clutching the helmet. There was enough light to see his face scrunched into displeasure. I had seen that expression mark his face before. This was the first time it had been directed at me. It was enough to make me stumble backwards a step. His eyebrows arched, waiting. There were a million things I wanted to ask him, that I had to tell him. Yet, the only pitiful thing I said was, "Why are you ignoring me?" I was still breathless after the chase. I despised my voice¡¯s elevated octave.


    Jay shifted on his feet. His gaze searched the area behind me, as if checking that we were still alone. When it returned to me, Jay asked, "Do you know exactly who you were sitting at the table with, eating dinner with?"


    "I do."


    "You were sitting at the table with the chancellor and the entire Senate," Jay stated as if I hadn''t said anything. His eyes widened as if he was trying to convey something important to me. "They are my bosses. Between them, they have enough power to have me stripped of my rank and sent to the lower reaches of society."


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Just because you know me?" I laughed. "Jay, the chancellor already knows we grew up together! He knows all about Kit and Galileo. He wouldn''t have punished you if you had just greeted me!" I didn''t know the chancellor well, but I doubted he would discipline Jay for demonstrating a bit of humanity.


    Jay shook his head in exasperation. A large, irritated sigh left him. "Things are different here, Bria. Look, I''ve been here for two years. I''ve made it to a rank of sergeant in the military, and that''s only because of my blood. You''ve been here less than a day, and you''re already having cr¨¨me br?l¨¦e with the most powerful people in the universe. Things are different here. There¡¯s a different set of standards I must live up to now, and what the chancellor is trying to accomplish... I want to be a part of it. I don''t want to be dishonorably discharged and sent back to the fifteenth circle. Just leave me alone." He shifted on his feet and twisted back towards his motorcycle.


    "Did you not hear anything I just said? The chancellor already knows about our past. If he was going to sign your discharge paperwork, he would have done it already. Jay, I don''t know anyone here. I don''t know what I''m doing here or what is going on or what I just stepped into the middle of. I need you¡ª"


    I didn''t get to finish my sentence. The thunder of a deafening explosion interrupted it. Instinctively, I braced for the impact of momentum shoving me backwards and off my feet. I expected my peripheral vision to capture the flashes of flames.


    But... there was absolutely nothing.


    The world around us remained stable, from the footbridge to the castle''s foundation. Our argument interrupted, Jay and I shared a confused glance before our eyes roamed and search our surroundings for evidence of an explosion. Jay found it first and cursed. I followed the direction of his gaze. Towards the top eastern side of the building, heavy black smoke was billowing out of one window. Upon closer inspection, I saw heavy sheets of glass tumbling down the side of the castle and shattering on the ground below. Beyond the smoke, flickers of red and orange flames could be seen inside of the castle.


    "That''s the dining room," Jay muttered to himself. He dropped his helmet on his motorcycle seat. Muttering a quick "stay here" to me, he took off across the footbridge and back into the castle.


    Not one to take orders, especially from someone who was being downright rude, and feeling the need to help with whatever chaos was happening in that dining room, I chased after Jay. I crossed over the bridge. More than once, I landed on my heel wrong and had to correct my foot from the sideways position it landed in before I shattered my ankle. Once I cleared the bridge, I yanked my heels off and threw them beside the front door in the atrium. I gained speed as I ascended the staircase. Jay¡¯s radio was blaring. The military had learned of the bombing. Soldiers were responding from all over the city.


    There was a crowd in the gallery near the staircase when Jay and I arrived on the fifth level. Gone was the serene gallery that I had been in only five minutes ago. Chaos reigned here now. The dark smoke was billowing out of the dining room in plumes. Only one of the dining room¡¯s double doors was open; heavy plumes of dark smoke was spreading to the upper gallery outside of the doors. It transformed the evacuees into unidentified shadows as they bent over and coughed, trying to get fresh air into their systems. They were in the way as others barged through the open door. They stumbled down the stairs in the effort to distance themselves from the danger. The orchestra of their coughs added to the cacophony.


    My eyes darted around the entryway, counting. There weren''t many senators who had evacuated; the majority were still trapped in the room. There were cries and screams coming from within.


    Soldiers in similar uniforms as Jay''s were responding from every possible direction. Those first to respond orientated themselves with the pandemonium before rushing into the dining room, pushing against the exiting traffic. Two focused on trying to open the second door. It was stuck. The soldiers couldn''t dislodge it.


    One victim stumbled out of the dining room amidst the others. Though the smoke was distorting everything, it was clear that the victim was injured. Soot stained his face and clothing. A dark reddish stain was spreading across his upper chest. Upon closer inspection, I could see steel protruding from his torso. He heaved a gasping breath before falling to his knees in front of the doors. One soldier rushed to the senator''s aid. He tugged on him to get him to move further away from the fire. When he was brought near the steps, I gasped. Though his glasses had been lost in the fray, I recognized him: Dae-Seong.


    I stood at the top of the staircase, frozen, as I tried to figure out how I could help. My breath was coming out in gasps from darting up the staircase as quickly as I had. I relied on the staircase railing as I hesitated. Jay stood by me.


    "Britton!" snapped a commanding voice behind us. The man had the commanding presence and brass on his uniform to be identified as high rank. Lieutenant, I thought. He ascended the last couple of steps, and I could see that he had metal bar pins attached to his collar. He threw a mask at Jay as he summited the last step. Jay caught it. "Put that on and get in there. There are still victims trapped in the room!"


    A strangled gasp came from the dining room entrance. An awkward, ungraceful form emerged from the smoke. With every heavy step, the form became clearer. Someone was walking backwards, bent over, and pulling a heavy load. That heavy load was revealed to be an unconscious senator. The lieutenant recognized this too, and shouted, "Someone help him!" Jay and another soldier rushed to execute the order. Hearing that help was coming, the man halted his efforts and stumbled sideways. The other soldier took care of the man, guiding him out of the way.


    As the man was escorted by me, I released a relieved squeak. Underneath the smoke and soot layered over his face, I realized it was Sebastien. "Chancellor!" the lieutenant cried. "How many are still in there?"


    Jay lowered himself so he could slip his arms underneath the unconscious form''s armpits, and with a grunt, stood up. He shuffled backwards at a pace much quicker than Sebastien¡¯s, dragging the victim out of harm''s way. The second soldier picked up the person''s feet and helped carry them to the staircase''s first landing. I blinked in dismay as I recognized who it was. The chief senator, Katherine Kolst, had fallen. I didn''t think she was breathing.


    Sebastien''s eyes fell on me before he shook his head. His hand clasped my upper arm in preparation of pulling me down the staircase. "Everyone get to the EOC!" Sebastien yelled over his shoulder. As he opened his mouth to speak, another explosion detonated. I saw the instantaneous flare of flames. I felt the floor tremble underneath my feet. Screaming followed the explosion, though it was faint behind the ringing in my ears. New smoke and flames attacked the area.


    The force was exponential. It tore my hand from the railing and Sebastien''s grip from me. It tossed me backwards like I was a rag doll. The sound vibrated against my ears and disrupted my hearing so that all I heard was the whistling air as I flew backwards. The impact when I collided against the ground was bone-shattering. I was still on the staircase. There was enough momentum that I tumbled down the stairs. Things were moving too quickly for me to grab ahold of something to stop the tumbling.


    Then it stopped.


    As if an invisible pressure was there, stopping the momentum on the second landing. Beaten, I collapsed on the floor. I stretched my arm across the landing. My fingers dug into the floor¡ªas if that could prevent any more downward tumbling. My upper right chest was damp. The floor underneath the spot was getting wet, and there was the smell of iron grating against my nose. Ringing filled my ears. I managed to lift my head enough to see flames dancing around on the open dining room gallery¡ªjust to the left of the door. Shadowy forms raced across the hallway and down the stairs.


    My head became too heavy for my body to hold, and it slumped back down against the ground. My eyes shuttered against the light of the flames.

 NINETEEN

    "She should be in the infirmary, sir. Not here. She was hurt pretty badly, and we have more tools and equipment available in the infirmary."


    "Her vitals state otherwise. Stabilize her without any excuses, healer," a deep voice growled. "I don''t want her out of my sight until the entire castle has been swept."


    I groaned. Awareness settled in, and my body felt like it was one living bruise. I felt pressure added to my upper right chest, near where my collarbone was. My eyes flickered open to see a woman standing over me. Her hands were behind the pressure against my chest. Pain radiated from the area, but I would live. The button holding the dress''s strap up had been undone to allow the healer better access to the injury. The blood was everywhere and had destroyed the dress. It looked worse than it actually was. My vital organs had been spared. "I need to stop getting hurt," I moaned.


    "This was not how your homecoming was supposed to go tonight." When Sebastien spoke, his tone was much gentler. He stood opposite of the healer. We were in a dark, enclosed room. I got the sense we were underground. Before the explosion, I remembered that Sebastien had ordered everyone to the EOC, or the emergency operations center. From the different hologram workstations and communication set ups, it appeared as if that was exactly where he had brought me.


    Goosebumps rose on my skin due to how chilly it was. Beyond Sebastien, there was a frenzy of activity. The dominant feature of the EOC was the twelve by twenty-four-foot holographic representation of the castle near the front wall. Seven camera feeds were pulled up against it. Two of them were black from the smoke blocking the live image. Five soldiers stood at different intervals and manipulated the holographic map. They expanded views; made notations as patrols confirmed clearances; and changed which camera feeds were enlarged. Another soldier was stationary behind a desk that monitored the radio traffic occurring throughout the castle and the city. Floating orbs seemed to relay different communications to the soldier posted at the position. There were soldiers reporting near a door, and another lieutenant who was assigning them to different patrols.


    "You got impaled with shrapnel when a device detonated," Sebastien informed, pulling my attention back to him.


    "Then it was a bomb," I confirmed. The healer at my side shifted on her feet as she continued to apply pressure. I realized that there wasn''t any gauze in between her hand and my skin. She was staunching the bleeding with her bare hands, which were radiating with a faint glow. I watched the healing magic, amazed and distracted. "Between this and the cream Kyrian used on my leg, I think I could become immortal."


    Sebastien''s frown dominated his face. "I don''t like that you''ve been toeing the line with death these past couple of days."


    The healer lifted her hands from me. I glanced down at my chest to see that the skin had knitted back together. Not neatly, as there was a scar and the remnants of dried blood there. Still, I wouldn''t have to worry about a gaping hole in my body. The healer cleaned the site.


    The woman looked exhausted, as if the use of her power had taken something from her. She examined the holographic screen in front of her. An array of different numbers¡ªmy vital signs¡ªwere organized across the screen. Then she motioned for me to sit up. With a light that came out of nowhere, she examined my pupils. I tried to not blink during her examination. "Does your head hurt?" she inquired.


    "Yes," I breathed. The back left side of my head was throbbing.


    When she was done, she took a step back. "She''s going to need additional care," the healer said after she made the screen disappear with a wave of her hand. "She took a terrible fall and could have a concussion."


    "She''ll come by the infirmary."


    ¡°She should come by in a couple days. We¡¯ll need to check for signs of a delayed concussion."


    Sebastien assured her I would be sent and dismissed her so that she could assist in the triage.


    My fingers fumbled with the dress''s strap to re-secure it. "How many casualties have there been so far?"


    Sebastien''s jaw twitched. "Don''t concern yourself with that."


    "You just tied up a healer to take care of a superficial wound. It was unnecessary; I wasn''t dying. Somebody else needed her more," I argued before biting my lip. I had almost forgotten whom I was talking to, and the incensed expression developing on Sebastien''s face was the warning sign I needed before I said anything more.


    "Internal brain bleeding isn''t something to take lightly," he grumbled, referring to my concussion.


    "I''ve taken worse falls before," I informed him. There had been times when my grip on the aerial hoop slipped, and I landed hard. I spent the following days as a walking bruise. I''d been lucky I hadn''t broken any bones.


    "You wouldn''t have been thrown backwards if I had used my magic in time."


    "You were the one who stopped me from tumbling down the stairs."


    Sebastien nodded. "I was."


    "Another bomb just exploded," exclaimed one soldier monitoring the hologram. One camera view was blown up against the hologram. It was of a part of the castle I didn''t recognize and featured rows of filled bookshelves before the smoke blocked the camera screen. "It''s in the library!"


    Acting quickly, the soldier manning communications advised the patrol units of the detonation. There came a brief discussion on the radio airwaves about who would respond to that detonation site to extinguish the flames. Sebastien stormed away from me to meet the EOC commander at the front wall. The hologram''s light striped their faces and bodies as they had their private conference.


    The frenzy of the attacks continued for what seemed like hours on end as the night drifted on. Three more bombs hidden throughout the castle detonated, while the soldiers located two more before any explosions could occur. Several more commanders arrived in the operations center and took over evacuations, perimeter deployment, and searching the city. I was forgotten for the most part as Sebastien supervised everything. He had sustained only minor scrapes from the first explosion; he had refused medical attention. His eyes remained focused on the holographic rendition of the castle; his hearing was sharpened to catch all the nuanced information coming from the communications orbs. Despite his intense focus, he glanced over at me throughout the night, assuring himself I was still there.


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


    I was able to ascertain that Jay was still alive by listening to the communications. Every so often, I would hear him call in status updates from the perimeter patrol detail he had been assigned to. He sounded so serious and monotone, extremely unlike how he had been during Galileo''s missions. There was no joking around this time. He had truly changed.


    As exciting as this was at the beginning, the intensity lessened as time passed. Ennui was slithering in right around midnight, and my thoughts kept returning to my bed in my apartment. The last bomb had been located an hour and a half previously, and all the soldiers were doing now was collecting evidence and searching for that one possible remaining explosive. I felt myself nodding off in one of the abandoned chairs against the back wall when one soldier at the hologram announced a new development.


    "There''s an incoming feed," he broadcasted. "It''s coming from an unknown source."


    "Allow it through," Sebastien ordered.


    Two soldiers manipulated the screen. A large square formed over the map of the castle and featured a live video feed. At first, the square featured the simple backdrop of what I assumed was the city. From how elevated the view was, I knew it was being broadcasted from a roof. The buildings behind him were painted to form a rainbow.


    For seconds, there was nothing. Then a man walked into view and stood precisely in the frame''s center. His wicked intentions were reflected by the simple black clay mask he was wearing to conceal his identity. He paused in front of the camera to stare straight into it. The mask''s eyeholes were large enough to reveal the wearer''s irises, which were dark against the stark white of his eyes. After several seconds, he started speaking.


    "By now, you will have learnt of the multiple explosions we have planted around the castle. Lives may have been forfeited; lives may have been altered. This will not be the end of the mayhem either," the man started.


    "It''s transmitting throughout the entire city. They want everyone to hear this," one lieutenant alerted. Sebastien ignored him. The chancellor had moved to stand directly in front of the screen. I couldn''t see his facial expressions as the transmission continued. Sebastien was stationary; his arms hung at his sides.


    "A new civil war is upon us, ladies and gentlemen," the masked man said with a flourish of his arms. "Allow me to give you a brief history lesson that you will not learn in the Academia. While you were sleeping soundly in your beds throughout the decades, snakes were slithering into our government. When these snakes attempted to take the government by storm years ago, they were annihilated by our people. Yet, like cockroaches, they survived. They learned. They masked themselves to go undiscovered. With time, they established themselves in positions of influence. They are now creating the policies that will govern your life. They are slowly changing the world into what they wanted all those years ago, into what our grandparents despised and desperately tried to prevent."


    The man disappeared from the feed and was replaced by a slideshow of five unfamiliar faces. All were adults. The photos were professional headshots. A female soldier was the first one to appear. The second one was a male professor. Another was a judge, clad in the honorable black robes. I couldn''t figure out the last two''s professions from their photos. The slideshow repeated as the speaker continued his monologue.


    "The people you see before you now are the five souls who lost their lives on suspicion of being associated with us. The government labeled them as traitors and signed their death warrants. They were hunted down a couple of days ago, tortured for information, and killed. Let me say their names for you so that they might be remembered and honored: Mila Ironton. Colin Amray. Paeon Ellesmer. Zuko Ri. Eira Daire. You might have heard these names before: they were featured on the news yesterday as being traitors. You might have seen their bodies prostrated before the castle, as they were hung out for the scavengers to destroy before their bodies were dragged along the city streets."


    I swallowed hard against the information. My mind was quick with the calculations. Yesterday, Sebastien was scheduled to attend a meeting with the daemeyri that he had planned. He missed this meeting, much to the daemeyri''s disgust. Emerson had declared Sebastien had been busy with something that had come up. Was it this? Was he torturing the suspected traitors for information about this rebel group? My mouth was suddenly extremely dry.


    "A century ago, we disbanded when it was necessary, when we were not needed anymore." The video returned to displaying the rebel leader. "Then we got suspicious that corruption was infiltrating our government once again. They forgot we are phoenixes. We are the Resistance. We will always rise from the ashes and come back to defend the pure soul of our heritage against any corruption. Now we will not stop until we achieve our mission. Innocent lives will be lost, as will the guilty, so this is your only warning. Our attention is on the chancellor and Senate, but we will not hesitate to shoot if innocents stumble into the middle of our battlefield." The man spoke calmly and succinctly. There was no need for him to rush. His identity had been concealed. The way that the camera was set up allowed the viewer to see only the upper half of the man''s torso. His dark long sleeve shirt faded against the night, so it was difficult to see his body''s build. The mask concealed every inch of his face and skull. His hair must have been cut into a military style, or he was bald, because there was no sign of it anywhere.


    The lieutenant rushed over to the communication station. Speaking at a lower volume as to not disturb the video, he ordered different deployments to respond to several locations.


    "Tonight, we have committed our first action of what our corrupt leaders will deem an act of treason. They will lash out, calling the Resistance cowards for not showing our faces. We disagree and believe that our first action is necessary to support an ongoing insurrection. Our following actions will continue to be from the shadows. If you do not wish to get involved or put your life at risk, we strongly advise you to stay indoors and avoid any government members. They will all be assassinated, one-by-one if need be. Diplomacy has gotten us nowhere. We will not hesitate to commit collateral murders if you dare to associate yourself with those on our hit list.


    "We have learned lessons from the last time we attempted to reveal this corruption surrounding us. You will not know who we are. We are leaders, teachers, diplomats, engineers, artists, nurses, athletes, and entrepreneurs. We are your mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins. There are even some of us who are working as moles in Astraera''s government and military. We are determined to restore the balance and integrity to our culture."


    The video abruptly ended with a transition to pitch black. Sebastien rolled his shoulders back once before turning to face the rest of the operations room. His eyes searched the room until he found the lieutenant, who was still standing near the communications desk. "I want every single person who is a part of the Resistance to be charged with murder and conspiracy,¡± he declared boldly. His hands were clenched at his sides.


    The lieutenant nodded once. "We have several units deploying to places they could be."


    "The Ironton Clocktower?" Sebastien''s eyebrow shifted at the suggestion. He knew exactly where the video had been filmed.


    "Yes, one unit is deploying there."


    The chancellor shook his head in dismissal. "Call them off. The Resistance will be long gone by the time they get there. Let''s not waste resources. Finish clearing the castle and city, and then send everyone home."


    "What about the casualties?"


    Sebastien shut his eyes and rubbed a hand over them. "I''ll take care of the notifications and the media. Most of them were senators anyway. I should be the one letting families know." He looked like he had long, dreadful hours ahead of him. I didn¡¯t envy him.

 TWENTY

    The dust from the Resistance attack had settled by the time morning arrived. It seemed as if I had barely returned to my apartment and fallen asleep when Milo, Sebastien''s assistant, was pounding on my apartment door. Eyes still sticky with sleep, I stood in the doorway, blinking uncomprehendingly at the assistant. "Get dressed," Milo ordered. "I''m supposed to take you to your evaluation."


    "That''s still going on after everything that happened last night?" I examined Milo for any signs of pulling an all-nighter. His complexion was even, and his eyes were alert. There was nothing in his demeanor announcing he had been helping with the death notifications. In fact, I didn''t remember seeing him anywhere after his initial escort.


    "Yes. The chancellor doesn''t want the Resistance''s scare tactics to affect ordinary life."


    With sleepiness still hindering my movements, I turned to get ready for the evaluation. No one had informed me what to wear, or if it would even entail physical exertion, so I settled on basic black leggings and a long-sleeved blue blouse. I hurried a comb through my hair, and with a second thought, tied it back into a ponytail. Milo was leaning against the wall near the door when I exited the bedroom. Saying nothing about my improved appearance, Milo exited the apartment and walked down the hall, clearly expecting me to follow him.


    My stomach softly protested the lack of food. I didn''t ask Milo if we could make a detour to the cafeteria. His uptight aura already provided me with the answer. Besides, I had quickly learned at the jail that if I was not awake to accept my meals, one would not be provided, and I would have to wait until the next meal. Milo''s body language also forbade me from asking questions about the previous night. Although his strict, introverted demeanor probably didn''t earn him many friends, I could see him being able to efficiently complete the tasks required of the chancellor''s personal assistant.


    As Milo led me to the evaluators, I observed the rest of the castle as we passed through its different parts. It appeared as if it was business as usual. People in professional attire were walking the same halls, some of them with paperwork cradled in their arms. Some gave Milo a nod of acknowledgment as they passed by. The route Milo took guided us away from where the explosions had occurred the previous night. We didn''t walk through any of the damaged areas, and I got an impression of just how large the castle was. No one was discussing the attacks in their morning conversations with coworkers. It was like the attacks had never happened.


    The evaluator offices were in the castle''s basement. The air instantaneously felt cooler the moment Milo and I crossed that threshold and went underground, while the hallways remained consistent with the ones on the higher floors. There were a thousand doors lining the hallways, and at random points, perpendicular hallways intersected the ones we were on.


    Milo finally stopped in front of a single door at the end of a dead-end hallway. A woman was waiting for us just outside of the door. She was petite underneath the white lab coat tailored around her form. It was buttoned up high enough to conceal whatever shirt she was wearing, and its hem stretched to her mid-thigh. Her straw-colored hair was chopped around her chin. It was too thin to form a structured bob. The name on her lab coat revealed her name was C. Cleary. There was a "M.S." after her name.


    As we approached, her mouth formed into a welcoming smile. She waited until we were only a couple of feet away before she said, "Good morning," and performed the small greeting I had begun to associate with the mages. There was warmth and empathy in her eyes, and a little interest. That little inkling of genuineness induced me to trust her, even though this was our first meeting. I murmured a return greeting. "It¡¯s an honor to meet you, Briara. I''m Cynthia, the evaluator director."


    Milo muttered his farewells before pivoting and returning the way we had come, his duties finished. It left Cynthia and me standing in front of the door. Not finding Milo''s behavior rude, Cynthia instead opened the door. "Do come in; let''s get you situated."


    I stepped into a small waiting room. Rows of chairs lined the walls, leaving an open space in the middle of the room. Directly across from the entrance, there was a rectangular window. Behind it, a receptionist''s desk had been arranged. Another door was next to the receptionist''s window. The waiting room and receptionist''s desk were vacant. "We''re usually slow during this time of the year," Cynthia commented as she saw my gaze assess the empty room. "You should have seen it a month ago. It was complete chaos. We had people wait listed."


    "Why''s that?" I felt compelled to ask.


    "The start of a new school year. First-year students need an evaluation before they go so their coursework can be geared towards their affinity. Most parents unfortunately wait until the last minute to get the testing done," Cynthia tsked. She directed me through the other door. Beyond, I saw it led to a wide corridor. The receptionist''s desk had the necessities. Two restrooms were behind the desk. On the other side of the corridor, there were a couple more doors. They had been left open to reveal small conference areas. Cynthia guided me into the first one. A file folder was already on the table, along with a decanter of water, two glasses, and mini muffins. "After what happened last night, I figured you hadn''t yet had breakfast," Cynthia stated as she pushed a glass of water and the muffins towards me.


    I muttered my appreciation and grabbed one muffin.


    Cynthia pulled the file directly in front of her. From across the table, I saw my name was printed across a white label sticker that had been stuck to the folder. "How much do you know about magic, Briara?¡± Cynthia inquired.


    "Nothing," I admitted.


    Cynthia nodded as if she had expected as much. "The chancellor informed me your mother raised you as a mortal. There''s suspicion that she may have restricted your powers, something which your eventual caretaker followed through on as well. I''m not sure how it will affect your test results. There''s also the fact that most people know what their affinities are and have been training with them for years when they get to your age."


    Even though I had just discovered I was a mage, I felt concern multiply in my gut. "Will there be problems because of it?"


    "It''s certainly abnormal. Short answer is we don¡¯t know." Cynthia shoved an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. "You''re behind, but it sounds like the chancellor is going to get you in private lessons to help you get to where you need to be."


    "How long will that take?" I wondered. If I could learn how to control my magic, I would feel better about preventing another massacre from occurring. Sebastien had implied it had occurred in the first place because my magic had been bottled up inside of me for too long, and it had nothing else to do except explode.


    "It all depends on what tier you are." At my confused expression, Cynthia explained, "The tiers correspond to how much magic you have access to, or to put it more simply, how deep your ''well'' goes. There are five discernible tiers of magic, with tier one being the lowest and five being the highest. Most people nowadays reach up to tier three at the most. Some try to force their wells to go deeper. They end up destroying themselves with their ambition. There have been instances where someone blew themselves into tiny pieces while someone else made themselves go insane," Cynthia sighed. I felt my gut stirring with apprehension. "There''s only so much a tier three with an affinity of mica can do. For instance, while tier three mica can grow and maintain a garden using their powers, they lacked the ability of molecular acceleration."


    "Affinities? What are they?" I had heard the term at the senators'' dinner.


    "Elements. Mages bind with one element at birth. Evaluations are used to determine a child''s affinity and his tier level. Nowadays, there are only four that the mages have bonded to, depending on their linage. There used to be more affinities. Evolution has all but diluted them from our bloodlines." All the sudden, everything that the senators had said at dinner was making sense. Cynthia opened the file folder. There was a small stack of papers inside of the file. Looking at it upside down, I saw that the top paper had a grid on it. Cynthia rotated this top page and slid it down to me. Gazing at it, I saw the upper left corner contained my name and had a time stamp. The time stamp reflected that the report had been generated earlier this morning. "Are you familiar with Punnett squares, Briara?¡±


    Shifting my gaze downwards, I noted the grid was exactly that: a Punnett square. "Yes," I answered.


    "Affinities are passed down along genetics like a person''s hair color and freckles are," Cynthia lectured. "We use Punnett squares to narrow the scope of the evaluation and shorten the exam time. It''s somewhat comparable to when you go to an optometrist, and they start the exam on your last prescription. The evaluators have records on every mage''s affinity, so I was able to pull your mother''s data to use for your evaluation. Madeleine''s affinity was aerie, and she was charted at a level three. Since we do not know who your father might be, and thus have only half of the story, I''ve plugged in different affinities for him just to see what your results could be." Cynthia tapped the sheet of paper that was in front of me. "The first page reflects your results if your father''s affinity was the same as your mother''s: aerie."


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I tracked the data across the grid. If my unknown father had had the same affinity as my mother, I had a ninety-eight percent chance of having the affinity. "It seems simple enough."


    Cynthia threw another paper over the first one. "Then we get into other factors that may complicate this. What if your father''s affinity was not aerie, and he had mica? That changes this a bit. On the dominancy scale, pyra has a five percent higher rating than aerie. There''s still a slight chance you could receive aerie, or the combination of the two can also lead to a mica ability."


    "So what you''re telling me is that you don''t know where to start with my testing due to not knowing what my father''s affinity is?" I stated. "Can''t you just review the video from the massacre and see if that gives you anything?"


    "Unfortunately, no," Cynthia stated. "I have reviewed the video. It wasn¡¯t very helpful, as there are signs of every affinity in it. It¡¯s very unlikely for you to have all four. The more likely culprit is that the magical variation resulted from how long your ability was impaired. The magic trapped inside of you may have mutated due to other environmental factors. We don''t have a lot of research in that area, although it''s been known to happen more than having affinities for all four. Your testing will be complicated, yes, but we have some theories that will hopefully speed up the process."


    Instead of reviewing the next Punnett squares, I asked Cynthia if we could begin the evaluation. The director agreed, gathered the paper, and shut the file folder. She clutched it in her right hand as she directed me out of the room. At the end of the corridor, there was a descending set of stairs. We took them down; I wondered if we were in the middle of the rock that the castle sat on.


    The bottom step opened to a large concrete warehouse. Interior windows divided the warehouse in half. Small, enclosed glass offices were lined up across the warehouse floor. Each office contained an instrumental panel. Behind the windows, there were enormous machines, like those used for CT scans and MRIs. Each machine was separated by more rows of windows. The heat from the lights shining down from the high ceilings affected me as soon as I stepped off the bottom step.


    Apart from a few people clad in blue robes and standing in front of one of the middle offices, talking, it was completely empty. The employees looked up and stopped their discussion as we approached. Curiosity shone in their eyes as they assessed me. "Briara, this is the team who will help me conduct your evaluation," Cynthia introduced.


    We exchanged polite greetings, and afterwards, a young woman with red hair pulled up in a ponytail stepped forward. She seized a thin gown from where it was hanging on a nearby railing and handed it to me. "Will you change into this? There''s a changing room right behind us."


    "Personal clothing can affect the results,¡± Cynthia said. "Sometimes, elemental essence may taint the clothing fibers. Even washing doesn''t get it out. We must ask you to take off your undergarments as well. I''ll let you get settled. I''m going to get the program started." Reluctantly, I accepted the dark green gown and entered the small changing room. As I changed, I wondered how they kept the robes from being affected by the elemental essence. My other thought was related to hoping that I would be concealed well enough when I exited. There were only two strings holding the back together¡ªone around the neck, and the other slightly above my buttocks. I tried to tie them as tightly as I could. I still felt exposed.


    The red-headed girl examined me when I exited the changing room. "No jewelry, right? Nothing in your ears or piercings elsewhere?" Although I had had my ears pierced since I was two years old, I had to remove my earrings upon my transition into incarceration. Everything had gone into a property bag as soon as I had stepped foot inside of the facility.


    "Nothing," I assured. I glanced at her lab jacket and observed that the name knitted on the left side was Maier.


    Maier led me past the office, where I saw Cynthia had already taken a seat at the center console. Her back was turned towards me as her focus was on the hologram before her. Several charts and diagrams were reflective against the glass windows. Cynthia didn''t look up as I was led into the room where the machine was. Maier straightened the thin cotton blanket already spread out on the exam bed that was a part of the machine. This part was fully removed from the machine''s hollow underside, where I assumed it slid into during the testing. The small screen at the machine''s apex had my name scrolling across it, one letter at a time.


    "It''s so scientific," I murmured.


    Maier glanced back at me, her ponytail swinging. "Not what you were expecting?" I shook my head. "The identification of an affinity has come a long way. Can you believe that in the past, there were groups of mages who threatened the child''s life just to compel the magic to come out? After that, the first machines we had sent electrical current down the kid''s spine to force the magic out; I heard it was quite painful. We''re far past those barbaric days," Maier laughed. She patted the bed. "Hop up on here and lie down on your back."


    Trying to not expose my backside, I awkwardly scrambled onto the board. There was a miniature pillow made from the same material as my gown and the blanket underneath me. I settled my head onto the pillow. My body was stiff with my anxiety. Some of it may have crossed my face because Maier gave me a side glance as she was pressing buttons on the machine. "Really, you have nothing to worry about. All you have to do is just lie there, as still as you can be, and the machine does all the work. It''s actually a pretty light show. Now, you won¡¯t squirm as much as the kids do and force us to give you a tranquilizer shot, right?"


    "I shouldn''t," I replied, even though Maier was smiling as if she was joking.


    Maier pulled a set of small stickers with tabs from her lab jacket pocket. She moved around the bed as she started to place the tabs on specific areas of my body. "I figured. Our subjects are usually seven years old when their parents bring them in. By then, mom and dad are exhausted of home schooling the little rascal and are hoping that there is some sign of magic coursing through their kid''s veins so they can ship the kid off to the Academia. Sometimes, we get them in as early as five, believe it or not. It''s idiocy. Magical ability is usually dormant in children until at least seven. It''s extremely rare for a five-year-old to demonstrate any magical ability." Maier was professional as her hands dug underneath my gown to place a couple of sticker tabs there.


    Curious, I asked, "The children stay at home with their parents until their magic manifests itself?"


    Maier nodded as she pulled a bundle of cords away from the machine. She went about attaching the cords to the stickers using the clips at end of the cords. There were stickers lining the pathways down my limbs and dividing my chest and head into quadrants. "I know it''s strange. I''ve heard of mortal children getting shipped off to school daily once they turn three or four. Yet, with mages, parents are forced to take care of their children at home. It''s important, especially since once the magical ability manifests itself, the kid will be at the Academia nine months out of the year and away from the family."


    "How old was the oldest child you''ve seen in here?"


    "We consistently get children who are twelve or so. Those are the saddest ones, because it usually means that their magical ability never manifested, and they are basically mortal. Yet, they have to go to the Academia, too, and get more of a formal mortal education. Twelve years is the deadline for the Academia enrollment, or otherwise you violate the law." Maier requested my index fingers. She clipped a machine onto each. Maier took a step back before fumbling with the scanning machine''s buttons.


    Biting my lip, I glanced at Cynthia, whose head was bowed down as she focused on the hologram display in front of her. "What¡¯s she going to be doing?"


    Maier sent a look over her shoulder. "Evaluator Cleary is proctoring your test. She makes sure you¡¯re okay, and the system is doing what it¡¯s supposed to be doing."


    "Through a hologram?" My brows furrowed.


    "A hologram? What, no. We call the displays erions. They are connected to our magic."


    The bed started to move further into the machine''s underbelly. The backwards movement stopped when my heart was directly underneath the middle part of the machine. I heard Maier''s retreating footsteps before the sounds of a door locking. After that, it was silent until the machine started to work. Its humming noises were loud. From what all I could see in front of me, the office that Cynthia had claimed seemed to be miles away. I could see the crown of her head hovering above the erion. She had four evaluators hovering over her as she manipulated the erion. I swallowed and stared above me at the machine''s underbelly, waiting for the light show that Maier referenced.


    It started gradually. First, there were flashes of pink, purple, and blue. Then the colors bonded together, forming a circular mass of energy. From there, it expanded until it surrounded me and separated me from the machine. There were blobs of the pink and purple, while a bright light took over the middle of the circular masses of energy. The mass was constantly in motion, always moving, always transforming. I felt overwhelmed by the beauty of it. This same pattern occurred several times. It started with the simple flashes of light before expanding into one large supernova. The colors changed, however. Greens and oranges were introduced. Sometimes, the purples and blues disappeared, only to return with the next supernova blast. The second mass had the lights in lines throughout it, as opposed to the cotton candy blobs. In the third, the lights were a cluster of millions of dots. I didn''t know what any of it meant. I was mesmerized nonetheless.


    My thoughts drifted down errant paths. One of the main ones had me imagining what this would have been like if my mother hadn''t chosen to flee from Astraera, and instead, had stayed and raised me here. Would my mother have bombarded the evaluators with appointments as soon as I was five, or would she have waited patiently? I could remember back to how small I had been when I was seven years old, so it was easy enough to envision that version of myself resting on this exact table. They wouldn''t have needed to tranquilize me; I would have been able to remain still during the exam. My mother would have stood behind the evaluator conducting the testing in the office. Her arms would have been crossed as she watched over me protectively. Perhaps she would have been proud that I had reached that milestone.


    These were the moments that my mother should have been here for. We had done everything together until she left to fight that monster.


    A soft tear was zigzagging down my face when a small head with straw-colored hair appeared in my direct range of vision. One with red hair drawn up into a ponytail closely followed. The bed had been moving out of the machine and I hadn''t even noticed. "That''s it," Cynthia announced.


    Maier moved around my body to remove the cords and stickers. "What did you think?"


    I blinked upwards at them. "That''s all?" I asked, flabbergasted.


    "It''s amazing, right?" Maier smiled.


    Slowly sitting up, I aimed another question at them. "What are my results?" I was almost afraid to ask.


    "The chancellor has asked us to not tell you. He wants to be the one who discusses them with you. I''ll finish my report by this afternoon and get it over to him," Cynthia advised. I tried to read her expression for answers. She had mastered being expressionless.

 TWENTY-ONE

    There were no further instructions from the chancellor as to what to do after my evaluation. After I changed back into my own clothes, I was at a loss as to what to do and returned to my apartment to regroup. It was early afternoon, and I didn''t know what Sebastien was up to. I wondered if he was in a debriefing related to last night''s bombings. It seemed too arrogant to arrive at his office unannounced. Besides sending his assistant to escort me to the evaluation, he had failed to communicate his expectations for the day. There was a sense of freedom in my steps as I headed towards my apartment. It had been a long time since I had had the freedom to decide how I was going to spend my day.


    I wanted to find a way back into the sanctuary. It had been three days since I''d last seen Hawk; the longest I''d ever gone was a week. He grounded me, and in these past three days, my life had been in a state of constant turmoil. We had agreed to not discuss reality, and I would continue to abide by that rule. Still, I yearned for his company. Maybe there was something out in the mage city that could emulate the ketamine pills. I could start exploring the city on my own, maybe even try some of the mages'' traditional cuisine... whatever that was.


    My plans were becoming more appealing the closer I got to my apartment. They were wrecked when I saw Jay leaning nonchalantly outside of my apartment door.


    He was in a watered-down version of his uniform and didn''t look as official as he had last night. A firearm and metal badge jutted out from his right hip. His thumbs were inserted inside of his front pant pockets. Remembering that he had been assigned to serve as part of the front lines during last night''s bombings, I searched him for any sign of injuries. There were none.


    Surprise must have been etched on my face, because Jay straightened from his lean and immediately informed me, blunt as ever, "I was ordered to show you around the city."


    I stared at him. I had stopped my approach a couple of feet away. "By whom?" I asked, guarded.


    "By my commander. He said the order came down the pipeline from the chancellor''s office."


    "You don''t think it''s going to ruin your career if you show me the city?"


    Jay had the sense to look uncomfortable and shifted on his feet. "I''m sorry for what I said last night. I was just surprised to see you there. Last time I saw you, you were locked up twenty-three hours a day and the only colors in your wardrobe were red and white."


    Feeling my irritation escalate to new levels, I placed a hand on my hip. "You know, when people are surprised by the sudden appearance of someone they haven''t seen for a while, someone they used to call a friend, they usually hug the other person out of joy. Not pretend that they don''t exist."


    "I know, and I''m sorry for how I behaved last night. Let me make it up to you and show you around Astraera. It''s nothing you''ve ever seen before, and we''ve been to so many different cities together. You won''t regret coming out with me, especially if the alternative is just sitting in your apartment." His sea-foam green eyes were earnest as he waited for my answer.


    It didn''t escape my attention that the only reason Jay was talking to me right now was because, through an order, the chancellor had told him it was okay. Still, Jay had a point. There was a new city to explore, and with it, a new culture to experience. It was my culture, one that I hadn''t even known about. There was a desire inside of me to belong to it, and admittedly, I needed Jay. I didn''t have any money to my name. Even if I did, I was at a loss as to the currency rules. I finally assented to Jay being my tour guide, and we were off. Jay''s mood, surprisingly, lifted with my agreement. "We''ll explore as much of the city as we can this afternoon, and then tonight, I want to take you out to meet my friends. They''re great. You''re going to love them!"


    Jay navigated us to the main staircase from my apartment, and then from there, to the same atrium and exit he had left through the previous night. We crossed the bridge that stretched over the stream and reached the main road surrounding the castle. Four foot retaining walls bordered the road on the other side to help protect against accidental falls over the sudden cliff. There were a few vehicles parked near the entrance to the bridge. One appeared to belong to the military commander: it was a shiny black tank. Another was a delivery truck. Jay''s motorcycle was nowhere to be found. I sent him an inquiring look. "Are you going to show me around Astraera in the tank?"


    "What?" Jay''s eyes shifted to the tank with understanding. "Oh, no. We''re going to be walking. You are limited with where you can drive in the city. It''s unnecessary. You can definitely get to places quicker without a vehicle." Jay motioned me over to the retaining wall. A part of the city spewed out in many different levels from where we stood until it reached leveled ground. "The roads here are cramped, and there are barely any traffic laws. The only one is perhaps that everyone needs to yield to military vehicles. Motor bikes are much more common, though expensive to purchase."


    The road in front of the castle followed the curved base of the castle and encircled it. Jay and I followed it. Gardens and fountains filled the courtyard space in between the road and moat surrounding the structure. After a couple of minutes of walking, the road completed its circle around the castle before descending towards the next ring. As we walked, Jay assumed the role of tour guide. I was astonished by his knowledge of the place. He¡¯d never paid a lot of attention to our surroundings when we were growing up. Yet, the further we got away from the castle, the clearer it became that Jay had a map of the city in his mind, accessible at any time.


    The level below the castle was dedicated to military operations. Though we did not tour this level, as Jay claimed it was dull, I could see training fields, barracks, and an administration building through the barbed wire fencing. Motorcycles were aligned outside of the administration building in three rows. A single person in a maintenance uniform was walking down the middle row, seemingly inspecting the bikes. When I asked him about it, Jay acknowledged he had a bunk at the barracks.


    The military ring was sandwiched in between the castle and what Jay deemed the beau monde. This contained the residences of Astraera''s politicians and the upper classes. From what I could see from where the main road intersected with the ring''s circular drive, security was a concern for the massive plots of land each equally sized home sat on. Not only did twelve-foot gates secure access to this city level, but each lot had its own personal gate. "The security gig here is a cinch," Jay explained. "You basically just walk around and make sure no one without the proper authorization is roaming around. It''s a job for those soldiers who are retired on duty.¡±


    The actual city started in the fifth ring, after a service level. Jay''s assertion that vehicles weren''t really used rang true once we stepped into the main portion of the city. There were a lot of pedestrians moving with intention and determination under the late summer sun. Scents coming from the food stands and restaurants permeated the air. After skipping breakfast, my stomach rumbled from the smells. Jay took pity on me and bought arepas and fried plantains for us at one of the food stands. We nibbled on these as we wandered through the city. Both the arepas and fried plantains were made with such an expertise that I yearned to return for seconds. I had mentioned my desire to try some mage cuisine, to which Jay just laughed and shook his head. "Your mortal palate will be shocked. Our recipes are quite eccentric," Jay warned. "The mages basically take random ingredients and throw them in a bowl together for a meal."


    The further we ventured away from the castle and descended to the flatlands, the more we came across the canals that snaked through the city. Much like Venice, the city had been founded on a close-knitted island chain the mages had connected through a series of bridges. More astonishing to me was that the city''s circular pattern continued despite the canals. "There are eighteen arrondissements in Astraera,¡± Jay lectured. "The first one is the castle, the center. The eighteenth one is the outermost circle."


    Jay''s tour consisted of leading me through each ring of the city until we found the bridge to take us to the next arrondissement. Through my brief exploration of each district, I picked up on the subtle clues of identity for each one. The sixth one was basically filled with skyscrapers and business executives, while the seventh appeared to be more upscale, where all the expensive shops and restaurants were. The eighth one felt more artistic: I saw a dance studio next door to the small bridge leading to the ninth arrondissement. Street art decorated the streets and sides of buildings. People were sitting outdoors at small, round cafe tables, sipping from espresso cups and eating ice cream. Buildings were painted in bright colors and brightened this part of the city. The street''s pavement was striped with a rainbow. Little poof balls¡ªwith fur the color of purple or pink¡ªdarted around freely; Jay wasn''t amused by the sight of them. He informed me they were called waileys.


    A clocktower stood over the rainbow street. Its looming presence was undeniable with its large gothic clock. The front entry was impassable due to the multiple signs nailed to the door. One of the most prominent was one that advertised that the space was for sale. Above it, crafted out of iron letters, was the name of the establishment: Ironton Street Clocktower.


    I yearned to explore this section of the city a bit more, though Jay''s pace sped up. If anything, he seemed uncomfortable in this artsy corner of the city.


    The eleventh contained a shocking Latin/Spanish quarter. The fourteenth had odd invention-type contraptions lining the street. Museums, historical statues, an array of fountains providing a show, high-reaching cathedrals, a grandiose Opera House, and monuments were hidden throughout the city, waiting to capture my awe. Jay didn''t stop at any of them, having other ideas in mind.


    There was wealth put into the city, I realized, after seeing fourteen of the eighteen arrondissements. However, as soon as we crossed into the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth, I learned that the wealth deteriorated the further out we went. The seventeenth was by far the largest and worse of the three. I noticed multiple buildings were in disrepair. A window''s shutter had broken off and was now hanging by the second and last nail. A building''s roof was in shambles and covered with a blue tarp. One window was boarded up with a simple plank of wood¡ªone that looked like it had rotted from water damage. Weeds were allowed to run rampant throughout the chipped cobblestone streets. Paint had peeled off from entire sections of buildings.


    Despite the ugly and desolate state of the circle, there were people loitering the street. A razor-thin woman was leaning against one paint-spotted building, supervising a gaggle of children playing some game reminiscent of hopscotch within the confines of jagged pebbles and taking drags of the cigarette perched in between her fingers. Two men were walking away from us, their heads down and their steps sluggish. All the energy had been sucked dry from them; it seemed as if they had worked throughout the night and far into the morning. A couple was trying to dry laundry by flapping it in the middle of the street. Like the others I had seen in the other rings, no one seemed frightened. They moved around their lives in whatever routine they had established, never mind that the previous night had seen bombings and senator assassinations. No one seemed to be afraid of the Resistance lurking amongst their city streets. There were a good number of soldiers moving about; Jay and I never went more than five minutes without seeing a pair on patrol. According to Jay, this was commonplace.


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    I waited until we had reached the eighteenth ring before I spoke. Jay had immediately guided us to a magnificent staircase that was ascending to one of the largest bridges I had seen in the city thus far. Jay referred to it as the Sky Bridge. The upkeep of the staircase compared to the seventeenth arrondissement was stark. In fact, the eighteenth arrondissement was like the first ones we had passed through: money had been thrown into its upkeep. Golden beaches stretched out on either side of the bridge. Cabanas dotted the beaches. A fence restricted access to the beach on the right side of the bridge to those who lived in the seventh arrondissement. To keep the undesirables out. "You all just shun the poor people here?" I tried to make my tone joking against the bitterness in my mouth.


    "They should consider themselves lucky for even being allowed to live in the city in the first place," Jay argued.


    Bile rose in my throat. I wanted to call him out on the discrimination. I bit down on my bottom lip, reminding myself that I didn''t have all the information. "What do you mean?" I prodded.


    Jay glanced around us quickly, as if he was verifying no one was actively listening. There were people enjoying the September weather and beach along the coastline. They didn''t pay us any attention as we ascended the steps to the large bridge that spanned the water. "Magic has been disintegrating for ages now. More and more mages are being born without any control of the elements. They are more mortal than mage now, and the only reason the government has been allowing them to stay in the city and remain classified as a mage is because they can trace their ancestry back to someone who actually could control an element."


    "But they have all been shunned to the slums. I don''t think that''s letting them ''stay in the city''."


    "That''s more of a financial and attitude thing. Naturally, the positions that pay the most are ones that require the use of magic. People with these types of jobs can afford better housing in the inner rings of the city," Jay defended. "There are jobs available for the mages without any affinities. Naturally, because of the lack of expertise needed, they pay less. The housing in the outer rings is all they can afford. There are options for them to join the military, and perhaps secure a better future for themselves. But many are so bitter by the hand that they were dealt and believe that the government is at fault for it, so refuse to enlist. They refuse to swallow their pride."


    Jay and I finished climbing up the steps. A smooth path now led to the bridge¡¯s apex. "Does anyone know why magic is disappearing?" I inquired.


    "There are some theories about it," Jay hedged. "The main one most widely accepted is that magic is a recessive gene. When mages started to reproduce with mortals, the mortal genes destroyed the mage ones¡ªthe ones that gave us magic. Even when people realized what was happening, and stopped having babies with mortals, it was too late. By then, the mortal gene had spread throughout the mages. Sometimes, those mages do have a baby who gets an affinity, though it doesn''t happen very often anymore."


    "What about you?" I tilted my head.


    "Me?"


    "Do you have access to magic?"


    We arrived at the bridge''s apex. It formed a plateau for what seemed like a mile over the water before fog blocked the view. Benches lined the bridge on either side at intervals. We were the only ones on the bridge, which made it seem even more surreal. While Jay claimed a seat on one bench, I was too impressed with my surroundings to sit down. Mountain peaks poke out over the bay, majestic under the warm afternoon September sun. "I was one of those kids born to parents who were forced to live in the fifteenth ring," Jay told me. I turned to look at him over my shoulder, shocked. "My parents hoped I would be one of those miracle babies that received an affinity, even if it was at the first level. Every year, from the time I was six to the time I was ten, they would take me for an evaluation. It was the same thing every time: ''I''m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Britton, Jay''s powers have not developed yet.'' Every single time, I was made to feel like it was my fault for those ten months afterwards. Then, two months before the next evaluation, my mother would become hopeful again. By the time I was ten, my parents had to admit that I was just like them. Fortunately, I escaped their scorn by getting sent to the Academia."


    "They didn''t want to wait the two extra years until you were twelve?" I questioned softly.


    "No," Jay said. "By then, I was so out of control, they were happy to get rid of me. Let me be the Academia''s problem."


    Which, I knew, was very short-lived. Jay had spent only enough time there to get into trouble and get sent to the reformatory, where he would later serve detention with Galileo and get yanked into my life.


    With my arms resting on the railing of the bridge, I let my eyes take in the world around me as I hesitated to assauge my curiosity with the million dollar question. Dense fog concealed the opposite side of the bridge, so I wasn''t sure what it connected Astraera to. The vast body of water surrounding the city was a blanket of turquoise serenity. The bay was bordered by a mountain range that rose out of the water. A few clouds were above, casting shadows onto the water. Its surface was calm enough to reflect the clouds and mountains. It was strange, and I almost believed that we were in the middle of a lake and not an ocean.


    "Did you know I was a mage?" I finally asked, not turning around from the turquoise water this time. This had been something I had been wondering about for some time. It had been difficult to banish the feeling that everyone around me had been keeping this a secret.


    "All of us knew," Jay admitted. "Kit, Galileo, and I. We didn¡¯t know you had an affinity. Kit and I just thought you were like us. We did not know that your mother had put a rasa stone in you to stop your ability. I had no idea until you blew up Union Station."


    My back tensed, and I sucked in a bunch of air through my nose. "Please don¡¯t phrase it like that," I hissed.


    "Sorry." Jay had the grace to be chagrined about it.


    I nodded in forgiveness. "Why didn¡¯t you tell me about any of this?"


    "When we were growing up or after...?"


    "Both."


    "Before... Galileo told us to not tell you. He never told us why it was supposed to be one large secret. He just prohibited us with a such a sternness that we had no choice but to comply. And after... you do know that mages are forbidden to tell mortals about magic, right? There¡¯s a lot of secrecy separating the worlds. The only ways we could communicate were being constantly monitored by jail staff, and probably investigators, too. Besides, if I had told you after Union Station, what would you have done? You would be in solitary confinement without anyone to answer your questions. You would have gone insane, Bria, and don¡¯t even tell me you wouldn¡¯t."


    My lips trembled. "That night. Before the handcuffs. You could have told me then."


    Jay huffed humorlessly. "I think we were a bit distracted then." He refused to say it out loud: that we had been intimate that night.


    I sighed, wanting to protest and claim I would have been fine with the knowledge. "I guess it doesn¡¯t matter, does it? We got here in the end, so all the secrecy my mother and Galileo tried to pull off didn¡¯t work. I found out everything. In the end."


    "How did your evaluation go today?"


    "I don¡¯t know. They wouldn¡¯t tell me. I guess the chancellor wanted to review the results before anyone else did." I became distracted by the faint imprint of something underneath the water about thirty yards away from the bridge. Narrowing my eyes, I leaned further over the rail to see better.


    "He¡¯ll take care of you," Jay promised. "He¡¯ll get you all trained up. After what I saw three years ago, I bet you are going to be incredibly powerful in a couple of years! Perhaps even a level three."


    "Yeah, sure." One cloud overhead shifted. It helped me see the imprint better. To my amazement, I realized that the shadowy form was a building submerged in the water. Not just a building, it was another castle. "Hey, is there a sunken castle in this bay?"


    "What?" was Jay¡¯s initial response. He stood up and met me at the rail. I pointed out the shadow to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the side of his face turn to stone except for the twitch in his jaw. I waited for Jay¡¯s denial or for him to say something equally dismissive, like the castle wasn¡¯t important and I shouldn''t concern myself with it. I waited for the lies to float out of his mouth, for that would be what they were: untruths. His reaction and recognition of the shadow proved the sunken castle was important. However, this time, Jay went with the truth. "It¡¯s the Astraeran Castle," he finally informed.


    My eyebrows rose. I glanced back at the castle on the hill and then back to the shadowy one in the bay. The one on the hill had only one prominent turret that lorded over all the other ones, while the submerged one had several of the same height. "I thought the Astraeran Castle was there." I pointed to the one on land.


    Jay shook his head. "No, that one is the Sistine Castle, built for the Senate and chancellor."


    "Okay," I replied slowly, not impressed with Jay¡¯s history lesson. "What was the Astraeran Castle for?"


    "Would you accept it was just a tourist welcome center?" Jay asked hopelessly.


    "Jay."


    Jay glanced around again, even though we were alone on the bridge. The nearest person was a woman playing with her dog on the beach. Feeling like he was about to tell me what I wanted to know, and not stall, I turned to face him. Finally, Jay talked. "There used to be a monarchy, and that there was the dynasty¡¯s castle."


    My eyes narrowed. "Okay. Why didn¡¯t you just come out and say that? Was there some civil war that destroyed the monarchical institution? Did evil run through their blood? Did a rebellion take them down?"


    "You could say that. The monarchy is gone, and people don¡¯t like to remember that time. It''s actually forbidden to even discuss the old dynasty."


    "What do you mean? How was it destroyed?" I pressed unrelentingly.


    Jay looked away from me and back towards the city. "I don¡¯t know. I was just a baby when it went under, okay? Just drop it, Bria. It¡¯s a touchy subject for mages. I don¡¯t want you alienating people by talking about it and getting yourself into trouble."


    Reluctantly, I agreed to drop the subject. Curiosity still crowded the edge of my thoughts. It faded as Jay distracted me with a different tidbit of knowledge, which also had me turning away from the bay and looking down towards the opposite side of the bridge. "I¡¯m really surprised you haven¡¯t been asking about this," Jay teased, lightly bumping into my shoulder and dropping the solemnity he had displayed during our previous topic. "It¡¯s almost like you don¡¯t want to know where the bridge leads!"


    "Actually, I was curious," I admitted. We stared down the walkway, side by side.


    "You know Astraera borders the mortal world, right? This bridge is a connection to their world. It unified us with the mortals before the magical world separated from the mortals. Now the mages who don¡¯t have an affinity use it to go into the mortal world."


    "Where does the bridge land geographically there?" I wondered, already trying to figure out if I had been within steps of Astraera while I was growing up and traveling the world.


    Jay shot a grin at me. "That¡¯s the best part. Astraera is like the moon and sun."


    "You mean it orbits the mortal world? We are orbiting the mortals right now?" Jay nodded, still grinning. "Are we in outer space, then?" Immediately, I regretted my question, already knowing the answer. We weren¡¯t in space. This was some other dimension. I was surrounded by magic now. Everything I knew about science didn¡¯t apply here.


    "No, we¡¯re on the outreaches of Romania right now. If you finish crossing the bridge, you¡¯d be in Bucharest. You¡¯ll have to hurry and return or else the bridge won¡¯t be there after a while. It moves on its orbit a little every hour."


    I turned around so that my back could lean against the railing. My arms crossed over my chest as I considered Jay, right down to his polished boots. "You''ve changed," I observed. "You used to be so reckless. Now, you are radiating discipline."


    Jay shifted on his feet. "I guess that is what happens when I lose both of the people I cared for and then get thrown into boot camp."


    "I''m not gone." I reached out to lay a hand on his forearm.


    "No, but I thought you were." Jay''s own arms crossed over his chest, and he glanced up at the sky. "Galileo''s death happened too easily. He should have been able to fight against it. I mean, I know I just said you were powerful and everything, but... I just thought Galileo was stronger. That nothing could take him down, you know."


    I only squeezed Jay''s forearm.

 TWENTY-TWO

    Jay and I stayed at the bridge for a little longer before he suggested we return to the main part of the city. The bar, Hellions and Halos, he was taking me to was in the tenth arrondissement and would take some time to get to on foot. Reluctantly, I gave one last curious glance over my shoulder at the sunken castle in the bay before following Jay. We were silent, lost in our own thoughts, until I asked Jay how he had gotten to where he was. This proved to be intelligent on my end, as once Jay got started talking about his journey, he became gregarious.


    I learned that after Jay had left me on the other side of the visitation screen a little over a year ago, he had called the number on the business card. He suspected the mages were behind it, although he didn¡¯t know for certain until he arrived on the first day of basic training. The commanders hadn¡¯t realized he was a mage, and thus treated him as an ignorant mortal they had to rip the blindfold off of and train to their standards¡ªlike all the other mortals he had been recruited with. Jay, still reeling from drug withdrawals, remained in the shadows and didn¡¯t tell anyone about his real identity.


    He spent the next couple of weeks with his class. In his own words, those weeks were literally hell. The training sergeant refused to give him any remedies for his withdrawal symptoms or allow Jay¡¯s body to recover from the substance abuse by rest. Every morning, Jay was forced to wake up before dawn, consume his breakfast protein shake, and complete a workout. The rest of the day was spent in drill. Jay wasn''t alone, though. The rest of his recruit class was also undergoing withdrawals of some sort. "My friend, Quincy, had it rough. She couldn¡¯t keep the shakes down for weeks, and they wouldn¡¯t let her sit out on the physical training. She was an alcoholic to the point that when she introduced actual food to her stomach, it rejected it, thinking it was poison," Jay said. "I didn''t think she would make it. By some miracle, she did."


    The mages didn¡¯t discover Jay¡¯s true origins until a couple of months in. By then, all the cadets had battled through their addictions and came out stronger on the other side. They had been grouped into the future units they would serve with; Jay was placed with the fellow cadets being transformed into messengers. Jay had formed bonds with his fellow cadets, so when it was discovered Jay was a mage, he was kept with his team. Yet, he was sent through leadership courses, molded to be the liaison between the mortal soldiers in his unit and the mages.


    The journey had transformed Jay. Somehow, the military had instilled discipline into him¡ªwhere Galileo and the schools had failed. He walked with more confidence. The weight he had been carrying on his shoulders had long since dissipated.


    Twilight was falling when we arrived in front of Hellions and Halos. The bar was in an entertainment district, competing with several other establishments for patronage using flashy lights, loud magic blaring from the open front doors, and scents of food I could already taste on my tongue. Hellions and Halos had undiluted white light emitting from their street sign. It stood out against the other signs on the main street, which were purple, green, and red. The pedestrian traffic in the district was light. Jay assured me that this was the district to be in, and everyone was just getting off work. Come midnight on a Saturday night, the place was crowded.


    The bouncer standing at the entrance to the bar gave Jay a nod of acknowledgment as we ascended the couple of steps up to the door. His eyes searched me, curious, and he opened his mouth to say something, and then decided against it.


    Hellions and Halos¡¯ interior differed from what I would have imagined. It was darker and my vision had to readjust quickly to the difference. Shadows reigned inside of the establishment, as lighting was kept to the bare minimum and highlighted tables, booths, the bar, and the stages scantily clad females were dancing on. The stages were confined by bars, almost as if the females were inside of birdcages. To my amazement, some stages were ten feet off the ground and anchored to the ceiling. It reminded me a bit of aerial dance, and I felt a pang of nostalgia. When was the last time I had entangled myself in a sheet of silk, spun around a trapeze bar, or twirled on a hoop?


    The music offered a steady beat for the women to follow and get lost in. As we walked further into the bar, I saw the girls were in various stages of undress. One was in an embellished bikini ensemble accessorized with stilettos. Another was in a skirt that didn¡¯t even cover her ass. One girl further in was covered head to toe in a fishnet onesie.


    "Jay," I hissed, moving closer so I didn¡¯t have to speak as loudly, "did you bring me to a strip club?" Half of the tables were occupied by men and women consuming food and beer as they observed the entertainment. Occupancy at the bar was much of the same. It wasn''t as rowdy as I would have thought, and the women were thus far remaining on the stages and retaining their clothing. Still, a permanent flush heated my face and neck.


    "It¡¯s just girls," Jay defended. "Soldiers need a break away from duty and want the feeling that there¡¯s someone to care for us after everything we see. The girls need the money to survive and sometimes our protection. We help one another here."


    True to Jay¡¯s words, he was not the only soldier inside of the establishment. After we got past the bar and the maze of stages, the restaurant portion started. It was better illuminated in this area, although the lighting didn¡¯t ruin the ambience the establishment thus far had maintained. More soldiers¡ªsome in full uniform¡ªwere occupying the tables in groups. Jay led me up a couple of steps to the upper section and to a corner booth. The booth was already occupied to capacity. Jay didn¡¯t look deterred at all. Especially not when he was received with a warm welcome when the occupants noticed his approach. "Britton!" Multiple voices echoed at once. Jay came to a stop at the head of the table; I hovered partially behind him.


    "About time you made it! We were taking bets on whether you got distracted." It was the man who was sitting in the middle of the booth who started the immediate teasing, which included several suggestive eyebrow raises. The man was thinner than his peers, and in the light, I couldn¡¯t tell if he had light or dark hair due to it being cut too short.


    Jay snorted. "You would, and probably lose all those bets, too." The people at the booth rearranged themselves so Jay and I could sit down with them. Jay slid in first, and I ended up on the end. The booth was one that curved and formed an ''u'', allowing me to see the seven other people in attendance. They had already settled in with beers and cocktails. A depleted basket that had once contained an appetizer rested in the middle of the table, along with a couple of empty beer bottles.


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    Glancing around the table, I tried to not be intimidated. Jay''s peers¡ªof which there were five males and two females¡ªwere still in their uniforms or the dress down version of it like Jay¡¯s. Seeing my glance, Jay launched into introductions. "Bria, this is my unit. We''re assigned to the Communications Division." Starting with the male sitting next to him, who had rich cocoa skin, and an afro trimmed short, Jay proceeded with the introductions. "This is Forrest; he does security for us when we are delivering a highly important and confidential message. Quincy is our route analyst, telling us the best route to take. Dartmouth helps with security, while Pierson assists with acting as a liaison between us and the rest of the military. He also helps with task management and is our dispatcher during high-risk missions. Owens, Greenwood, and Ulster all assist with carrier duties. Then there''s me, and I manage all of it."


    "I can hardly believe you are supervising people now," I muttered. I waited for one of the other people at the table to object to Jay''s statement. There was a lack of scorn across their faces, and I could tell that they were accepting of Jay''s ranking superiority over them.


    "He has some help," one female stated with a small smile. A glance at her name patch reminded me that her last name was Quincy. She was petite in stature, even with all her gear on. Despite her hair being gathered in a tight, neat bun on her head, there was a softness to her facial features. There was not any sign of the prior alcoholism Quincy had suffered from. She seemed to have beaten that battle with her personal demons.


    "Quincy likes to say that my organizational skills are lacking," Jay informed me.


    "They are."


    Jay released a playfully indignant sound and bumped his shoulder against mine.


    Quincy''s smile expanded at seeing she had support from me, at this sign that we were on the same side. Her eyes shone as she said, "Jay said you two grew up together."


    The entire table was listening to the conversation. I shifted awkwardly in my seat. In the attempt to keep the conversation lighthearted, I said, "He was the bane of my existence for a decade. He got me in so much trouble sometimes. It''s a miracle both of us weren''t murdered by Galileo."


    "You loved every minute of it," Jay laughed. "Besides, Galileo would never kill you. You were his favorite. You were on a pedestal! Me? He would have thrown me overboard at sea if he could have gotten away with it."


    "Sounds about right!" Forrest interjected. "I was certain we would find your bunk empty and your severed limbs at the flagpole several mornings during basic training."


    "I thought I would be the one who would do it, too," Owens muttered into his beer. "For those times your tongue got us punished with running down to the end of the bridge and back." I was fascinated with the discussion and this new life of Jay''s I had yet to see. Like he had with Kit and me one time in his life, Jay had forged a new family with this group. Through their joint experiences, they had embraced each other as family. As I found myself wanting to hear more of their silly anecdotes, I discovered that my anger and disappointment towards Jay from the previous night was fading. I found myself laughing as Quincy told the story of how Jay''s mouth had turned a forty-five-minute plank into a ninety minute one.


    At that point, one of the scantily clad female employees sauntered over to the booth. Her nipple piercings pressed against the fabric of her crop top, clearly not concealed. In between the stilettos and the short black shorts she was wearing, her legs were elongated. Her eyes focused directly on Jay, and when she was close enough, she directed her first comments to him.


    "Thought you weren''t going to show up, sergeant." The woman flipped her hair over her right shoulder.


    "Oh, come on, you didn''t think I would miss the opportunity to see your beauty, did you?" Jay returned the flirtation.


    "I don''t know. You missed a couple of nights last month. I thought you had grown bored with us," the woman replied coyly. She leaned on the table right in front of me, decreasing the distance between her and Jay. Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat again and dropped my gaze to the table''s edge. She was close enough that I could smell the peony perfume radiating off her and positioned in such a way that I could see the side of her breast hanging out of her top. I pushed further back against the booth to increase the space between us. It was like she wasn''t even aware I was right there.


    "Duty," Jay shrugged. "Don''t you know I''m a hardworking soldier, trying to assist with bringing our government''s dream to fruition?"


    "Even hardworking soldiers need a break," the female flirted. "You want your usual?"


    "You know me so well." Jay''s eyes drifted to me, as if he suddenly remembered I was there with him. "Add on a vodka grape juice, will you?"


    "On your tab?" The female straightened; her lips were twisted in dissatisfaction as she realized whom the extra drink was for.


    Jay confirmed it was, and the female strutted away. Her dissatisfaction was apparent in her gait.


    "You better make sure Avery doesn''t spit in hers," Owens warned, his eyes following the server before she disappeared in between the shadows and tables.


    Jay waved away Owens''s concern. "It will be fine. Avery knows all about Bria." Straightening with interest, I suddenly wondered how close Jay and this server were for him to be sharing his past with her. I didn''t get a chance to ask any questions before Jay''s unit started to ask them about me. I spent a fair amount of time answering their curiosities, and more time sharing stories of Jay''s stupidity that had the entire booth hunched over in laughter. There were many stories in my arsenal. I was careful about how much I shared when Avery returned; first, with the drinks Jay had ordered, and then with a platter of fried appetizers for the table. I was aware of how she was listening in and how she delayed leaving by slowly clearing the table. She was a professional at angling her breasts towards Jay as she did so. I was acutely aware of how long her fingers lingered over his as she collected his empty beer mug from him.


    I finally relaxed around Jay''s friends midway through my second drink. Pierson and Quincy were extremely welcoming and extroverted. Even when my introverted ways threatened to leave the conversation hanging, they found ways to pick it up again. I inwardly chuckled over Owens''s dark sarcastic comments whenever he made them. Dartmouth and Forrest contributed infrequently; more often than not, I saw their eyes darting around the club. They knew, just as I did, where the nearest exits were, how many people were near enough to be threats, and what could be used as cover should a battle erupt across the club¡¯s landscape. Forrest had been discharged from the British army, although whether it was honorable or dishonorable remained in question.


    If we had ended the night right there, then it would have ended on a high point. Jay and I could have returned to the castle, where I might have invited him into my apartment. Although we had made progress in restoring our relationship today, there was still more to discuss. We had been at an awkward point in our lives when we had been arrested three years ago. The handcuffs had been snapped on and restrained our freedoms hours after we had turned to one another for comfort after the massacre. We had never spoken about it since.


    If only we had ended the night after those two drinks.

 TWENTY-THREE

    After an hour or so of drinking, Dartmouth unzipped a pouch attached to his uniform vest. He dug around in it before producing a small plastic baggy. At first, I thought it was filled to the brim with .25 caret diamonds, and thought it was a peculiar item to be carrying around. Dartmouth carefully unsealed the bag, licked his index fingertip, stuck that fingertip inside of the bag to snag one diamond, and then brought his finger before his mouth. As a frog would, his tongue darted out to yank the diamond inside of his mouth. As it dissolved in his mouth, Dartmouth shut his eyes in pleasure.


    "How do you still have that many left?" exclaimed Quincy mournfully.


    Dartmouth''s eyes slowly opened to look at his questioner. Even in the darkness, I could tell that they were gazed over. Whatever he had consumed was rapid-acting. Forrest snorted and answered for Dartmouth. "He won Quarry''s allowance, remember?"


    Quincy leaned forward on the table, angling her body towards Dartmouth. Her eyes became wide and pitiful as she beseeched, "Would you mind loaning me one, Dart? I''ve been out for a day, and I don''t think I can wait until the allowance distribution. I''ll do a two for one deal with you!"


    Jay shifted beside me. The way he straightened and tensed on the bench distracted me from the discussion. Jay''s hand was digging into his pants'' side pocket. To my dismay, he brought out a small tin box. "Quince, you need to pace yourself. Soon, you''ll have to give up your entire allowance to repay all your debts, and what are you going to do then? You only have to wait a day. You can hold off, you''ll be fine." He flicked open the box''s lid, and I saw that the tin box contained three diamond-looking rocks.


    "I can''t wait until I get my raise," Quincy moaned. She slumped over the table, moody.


    "What is that?" I hissed at Jay the moment he put the diamond in his mouth. My dismay expanded as I saw he had a similar reaction to it as Dartmouth. I controlled the urge to dig my fingers into his throat and force him to vomit it out.


    "Ambrosia," Jay sighed in pleasure.


    "I thought you were done with the drugs!" I scorned.


    Jay''s eyes slowly opened and lingered on me. "Relax, Bria."


    "I thought you were better and had beaten your addiction! I didn''t think you had moved on to something else!" I tried to keep my volume quiet as to not attract the attention of his peers.


    Jay lifted the tin with the remaining two. I yearned to knock it out of his hand. "This is better than the other crap I was putting in my body a year ago. It still gives me that high, but without all the horrible withdrawal effects and harm. They wouldn''t be giving them to the entire army regularly if it was harmful," Jay argued. "Come on, take one." I shook my head and averted my gaze. A sudden battle raged within me, springing up with the offer. I was tempted to take one¡ªjust to see if it could get me back to the sanctuary. The logical side of my brain called me a hypocrite.


    "I''ll take hers if she doesn¡¯t want it!¡± Quincy piped up, suddenly eager.


    Soon after that, Jay''s unit split up to patronize other areas of Hellions and Halos. Forrest and Owens disappeared to the tables nearby where someone had established a gambling ring. Pierson, Ulster, and Dartmouth moved to claim better seats that put them closer to the stages. I followed Jay to the bar area, which had become busier since our arrival. In order to serve the surge of patrons, more women were working behind the bar. Tall men in black shirts, jeans, and earpieces stood on the exterior, observing the activity, prepared to intervene if any of it turned rowdy. They looked mean, and certainly hired for their intimidating statures.


    Away from the others and the table of Ambrosia, I felt myself relaxing. The dance music was blaring in the middle of the building. My body swayed along to the beat as I followed Jay through the maze of stages and seating. His hand was entangled in mine, and for a moment, I felt like I was walking on clouds. The combination of the warmth of Jay''s palm against mine, darting colored lights, upbeat music, and alcohol made me lightheaded. In the crowds of people we passed, I saw girls erupting into laughter over some joke one of their companions made. Other people were dancing to the beat of music. In front of one stage, one dancer had escaped her cage. She was in the middle of giving a lap dance to the only woman sitting in her audience. The woman was leaning back in her chair and laughing. For those moments, I felt like I belonged. It was something I hadn''t felt for some time.


    That feeling was short-lived.


    Jay found us seats squeezed in between what appeared to be a bachelor party and more off-duty soldiers. The bar contained its own frenzy of activity, mostly generated by the bartenders, who were pulling double duty as both bartenders and entertainment.


    As Jay quickly got us another round of drinks, some bartenders hopped onto the bar top. The one wearing a schoolgirl skirt and white button-up shirt had pushed a shot of liquor in her cleavage. She laid down on the bar as another girl mounted her. The second girl had colored her hair with bright blue dye. She shoved a lime in the schoolgirl''s mouth. To the cheers of the bachelor party she was performing in front of, the girl slid down the supine girl to position herself directly in front of the schoolgirl''s cleavage and the liquor shot. She brought her mouth down to the shot glass. Her lips had enough grip around the glass to bring it up to balance against her mouth so that its contents slid right into her throat. Her hand was there to catch the shot glass when she lowered her head. She immediately grabbed for the schoolgirl''s head and sucked the lime out of the girl''s mouth. There was a loud, approving roar coming from the spectators, especially from those at the bachelor party.


    Further down the bar, another girl, this one wearing a black shirt with the establishment''s name written boldly across it, possessed a vodka bottle. She had paired the shirt with black cutoff jean shorts and heavy eyeliner against her sun-kissed skin. She was pouring shots into people''s glasses as they waved coins at her. Her hips bounced back and forth in tune with the music. The bachelor party caught the girl''s attention, and she skipped several patrons as she strutted over to them. When she arrived in front of the males, she placed her hand on her hip and stared down at the males. I was close enough to hear her ask, "Who''s the lucky man here tonight?"


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    Two other bartenders were also close enough to her, and intrigued, they migrated closer. One of them hopped onto the bar top. The bachelor''s friends pointed him out, while the bachelor eagerly raised his hand. He sat in the middle of two of his friends, with the rest lined up behind him. From the quality of his clothing, it appeared as if he was well-off. His fuzzy afro hair hung in his eyes¡ªindicative of the wild night they had had thus far.


    The girl smirked. She reached down for him. Together with her partner, they were able to get the bachelor on the bar, one ungraceful, drunken movement at a time. A bartender behind the bar already had prepared a shot with golden liquor and a sliver of lime. The girl grabbed these and shoved them towards the bachelor''s mouth. The bachelor was sucking in the lime juice as the girl slid behind him. To my shock, her hand slipped inside of his jeans, only to reappear quickly with the hem of his boxers. With one forceful tear, she ripped the entire waistband off his underwear. The bachelor''s friends cheered her on, looking on from the sideline. Smirking all the while, she tied the tattered strip of material loosely around her neck, creating a makeshift tie.


    The other girl participating in this debauchery was removing the bachelor''s button-up shirt. She tossed this out into the darkness of the crowd. He was wearing an undershirt. The girl ridded him of that as well so that he was bare chested. His friends started laughing over his gut being out in the open. There was a tattoo of three laterally overlapping circles against the bulge of his bicep.


    The lead girl wasn''t done, however. She pulled a black permanent marker out of her pocket. His back was to be the canvas for her spontaneous masterpiece. While she decorated the bachelor''s back, the other girl teasingly danced over his lap. Periodically, she gifted the bachelor with shots of golden tequila. The dancing stopped when the lead girl was finished. She turned him around so we could see her human graffiti. I was shocked that she had written Reagan was here within a heart''s frame and naughty boy within the frame of a penis. With that same sassiness she had shown during her performance, she shoved the man off the bar. His friends were there to brace his fall and resulting stumble. Reagan resumed her duties on the other side.


    Enraptured by her sassiness, my eyes followed her as she disappeared to the far side of the bar. Her attention was focused on the two people who occupied the two seats there. One was a girl with untamed brunette waves. Unlike the others who had dressed up for the evening or the soldiers in their uniforms, her look was more simple, realistic for ordinary life. The girl¡¯s tennis shoe clad feet were settled on the barstool footrest. Her hair had been secured in a loose ponytail, and it reached to touch her mid-back. Her low-maintenance look continued with her plain face, chipped fingernails, and simple shirt and shorts. If Reagan hadn''t paid her any attention, I wouldn''t have noticed her. The simple girl''s companion was a male. He had a round, clean-shaven face, capped by vanilla-blonde hair. He seemed content with playing with the straw in his glass.


    I couldn''t hear Reagan and the girl''s conversation because of the music. There was a friendliness in Reagan''s expression, however, and all the sass she had demonstrated before had disappeared. There was a hint of protectiveness in her eyes as she seized the girl''s empty glass and leaned forward on the bar to hear the girl better. Their conversation was quick and ended when Reagan took two steps to the left. She quickly discarded the empty glass underneath the bar before grabbing a clean one. Watching her fill it up, I knew she didn''t include alcohol in the lemon soda and grenadine mixture. Reagan threw a straw into the glass before sliding it to the girl. The girl had the grace to look grateful. Reagan then moved her focus onto the soldiers sitting beside us.


    I turned to look at Jay, only to see that Avery had appeared out of nowhere. Despite there being a million of other patrons surrounding the bar, Avery had settled her attention on Jay. She was sitting on the bar in front of Jay, her legs spread wide enough for Jay to stand in between them. Her hands settled on his shoulders as she thrusted her breasts in front of his face. Her heavily mascaraed eyes blinked at him as she pouted her lips. "You are way too tense to be telling me no," I heard her tell Jay. "You need to let me help you relax. You know I can."


    A shiver erupted through Jay''s body as he considered her offer. "All right," he agreed.


    A huge grin alit on Avery''s expression. She leaned backwards on the bar, straightened one of her bare legs, and swung it to the other side, where it met the other one. In seconds, she was off the bar and Jay''s hand was entangled in hers. She yanked him from his stool.


    Jay had enough thought to advise me, "I''ll be back soon." I couldn''t reply before Avery had pulled him too far away. She pulled him towards the hallway near where the brunette and her companion were sitting. I willed Jay to look over his shoulder to check on me, perhaps seeing the pain I knew I could not hide. He never did. He disappeared down the hallway with Avery. From what I could tell, there were rooms on either side of the hallway. Sheets of sheer black fabric acted as inferior doors. One bouncer was posted at the hallway''s entrance.


    Sensing eyes on me, I followed its thread back to the brunette girl. Her eyes were dark. There was enough light to see the curiosity and pity mixed into her expression. As soon as our gazes met, she dropped her eyes back to the bar top and turned her body to face her companion.


    I swallowed. Before I hopped from my stool, I consumed the last bits of my drink, sucking it through the straw in one gulp. The water from the melted ice had melded poorly with the last bits of the alcohol to make the gulp unsatisfactory. I stumbled from the barstool and then plowed forward to the hallway. The bouncer at the hallway, who was twice my size, peered down at me with a disbelieving shift to his eyebrows. "What do you think you are doing?" he inquired.


    Behind him, I could see that the simmering silk hanging in the doorways was semi-transparent¡ªenough to see movement through. The cloth was not wide enough to cover the entire doorway and allowed me to see into the rooms through the cracks. In the doorway to the left, I saw a man leaning back against a couch. His belt buckle unlatched, and pants unzipped to reveal his erect manhood, his legs were wide open for a woman. The woman was on her knees on the couch beside him. While her mouth was working at his ear, her hand was encircled around his manhood. In the doorway to the right, the woman was already sitting on the man, backwards, her own legs spread. Another woman was on her knees in front of the twosome on the couch.


    Vomit infiltrated my throat over the sights, and the way my brutal imagination reacted from it. The bouncer waved his hand in front of my face. "Hey!" He snapped his fingers to bring my attention back to him. I gave him a blank stare before spinning around and darting away. Somehow, I blindly pushed my way through the bar and outside. I was able to dart around the corner and away from the front entrance to prevent making a spectacle as I vomited all over the ground. When I looked up, the fresh air mingled with the tears forming in my eyes.


    I had two options: I could return inside and wait for Jay to finish with the prostitution¡ªperhaps finding Quincy¡ªor I could simply walk away. My feelings of betrayal and pride made the decision for me. I pushed away from the wall I was leaning against and started walking.

 TWENTY-FOUR

    The idea of walking through the rest of the entertainment district in the tenth ring made me crestfallen and lonelier than I''d ever been, so I escaped the area as quickly as I could. Remembering that the arrondissements were connected by bridges going over the canals that separated them, I went over the first one I saw and kept going until I could no longer hear the music blaring from the bars. The streets became quiet.


    After some time, I didn¡¯t know where I was going, or which part of the city I was in. It didn''t matter if I was putting myself at risk. The chaos raging in my mind muted any fears of my safety. I felt betrayed, even though the rational part of me vouched for Jay. After all, we had been separated for over two years, and he had moved on with his life. While I had been locked up, he had formed new relationships. I should be happy he wasn''t the same man he had been before. What we had that one night before I had been arrested was just an accident.


    I started envisioning what I would say to him the next time I saw him. I envisioned our futures here, and a bitter part of me imagined him remaining as a messenger sergeant, while I, fully trained in the magical powers that had been concealed from me for twenty-three years, had elevated my status in the mage world. Perhaps I could even become the next chancellor. Or a senator.


    Somewhere up ahead, a clocktower¡¯s bell rung. I had just passed through an industrial district, where there was heavy equipment lined up behind fences and tied to the docks on the canals. Besides a couple of bright lights installed to the side of buildings, lighting was much desired. Still, the streets lacked activity. People who worked in the area were probably at home. Taking bridges as I came across them, I let my feet guide me through the city, and soon wandered through a neighborhood district. Row houses shared the same street as small cafes and restaurants. Some houses had their porch lights activated. If the window blinds were pulled up, the interior scenes revealed dimly lit formal living rooms that looked like they were pulled directly out of a home magazine.


    I felt like an interloper in the city, staring into houses and not belonging. Loneliness seeped into me.


    I was descending a couple of steps that connected another bridge to land when I stumbled and missed my footing. I quickly righted myself after making a slight ruckus. The shadows to my left were disturbed, and I suddenly got the sense that I was no longer the only person on these streets. Frozen and hardly breathing, I stared into the shadows. I remained at the foot of the bridge, prepared to dart back across it should a threat arise.


    Several yards away from the main street, a white stone pavilion rose against the night and behind a three-foot iron fence. The cobblestone walkway up to the grand entryway was decorated with bins containing heavy masses of flowers. Chimes hung from hooks that had been built as part of the architecture. The chimes were silent. One symbol, a sideway x, had been etched into the pillars continuously to create a pattern. A holiness surrounded the area, as if it was revered. The temple was a place of worship.


    Tension gripping my body, I crept forward a couple of steps. My eyes were drawn to the grounds behind the pavilion''s fence, which I could see in between the fence''s pickets. At first, I saw a couple of statues in the yard before the pavilion. I wasn''t prepared to see the living gaze of a human''s eyes staring directly at me. I gasped and froze as my mind rushed to make sense of what I was seeing.


    Even though the person was kneeling, it was clear that he had height to him. That was the only characteristic I could decipher about him. A long, billowing cloak surrounded his face, obscuring it. The cloak continued down to the ground, draping around the man''s knees in massive amounts of material. The man was kneeling over an enormous beast that had collapsed onto its side. Light reflected against the liquid on the beast''s hide.


    The man could be helping the creature.


    That thought skittered across my mind momentarily, only to be pushed away by instinct. Something was amiss. The adrenaline pumping through my body was due to more than just the surprise of seeing another human on these streets at this hour. It was an ominous feeling. I had to fight against the urge to turn my back on the male and flee back across the bridge. Instead, I did something stupider and ran towards him. There was a small gate separating the iron fence, and it yielded to my force as I shoved it open. By the time I veered to the left, the man had stood up. He took a graceful step backwards. Although I couldn''t see past the shadows underneath his cloak, I knew he was staring straight at me. I should be grateful that whatever violent urges he had been feeling, it had been taken out on the animal. For the man pivoted a full one hundred and eighty degrees and disappeared in the pavilion¡¯s shadows.


    I stumbled forward and landed in a kneeling position next to the creature. This close, I could see the characteristics of two animals in this one creature. All my classical lessons with Galileo came tumbling to the surface with a wave of shock and amazement. This creature was a gryphon, a legendary creature uniting the attributes of an eagle and lion. His body was that of a lion''s, complete with a tail, mane, and bushy fur. He also had eagle wings, talons at the end of his paws, and an arch in the neck. The gryphon''s fur was matted where a large circular wound was on his side. The flow of blood out of that gaping wound had slowed to a trickle. It was too late. There was an ever-growing pool of the gryphon''s blood expanding underneath him. A smear of blood glistened on one of his talons.


    With tears accumulating in my eyes, I glanced from his wound to his eyes. A second gasp left me when I saw the human-like intelligence residing in them. There was a recognition in them, followed by a message. His tail swished once on the ground. The gryphon''s eyes fell shut. Permanently.


    "Get away from him!"


    The shout came from behind me. My balance was affected, and I wobbled in trying to scramble up onto my feet. I whirled around to face where the demand had come from. Five people¡ªall clad in dark blue robes¡ªrushed out from the pavilion''s veranda and into the yard. Three of them pointed the sharp spears in my direction, while a fourth one had an arrow fitted into a bow¡ªalso aimed in my direction.


    Immediately, I threw my hands into the air to show I was defenseless. My mouth went dry with fear. My mind threw their perspective back at me.


    I was the slayer of the gryphon.


    "Don''t you dare move!" The only male without a weapon barked the order at me. He was perched on the main staircase.


    I didn''t intend to move¡ªespecially since more people in dark blue robes armed with weapons had snuck out of other exits and surrounded me from behind. At least ten spearheads and bows were pointed at me. I waited for further commands; none were forthcoming. "There was a man here," I tried to explain. My voice was shaky.


    "Silence!" The male''s voice exploded across the yard.


    My lips pressed together.


    More robed people hurried out of the pavilion. They rushed to where the beast was and started their assessment. Some of the armed ones escorted them and formed a protective barrier around them as they worked, as if I would attack. Through their bodies, I saw them exchange a sorrowful glance. "It''s too late," one of them called out to the men positioned on the stairs. "He''s gone."


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    No one responded.


    They had to be waiting for the soldiers to arrive; I hadn''t seen the presence of any law enforcement in the city. To my embarrassment, my legs trembled out of fear. I felt the reminder of the phantom sting of handcuffs snapping around my wrists. I relived the confusion over my arrest. The horror of seeing the video footage from the Union Station attack¡ªhad the same thing happened here? But no, I reminded myself, there was the male in the hood. He was behind this. This time, my memory was intact.


    Fear increased the tremors in my legs. Would they throw me into a jail cell? Solitary confinement at Caligo? Did my freedom away from the restraints expire after ninety-six hours? I had a thought to flee, to become a fugitive. The fear of being locked up was too much. Could I evade the spears and arrows, navigate through an unknown landscape? Run to the bridge that led to the mortal world?


    It took about three minutes for the soldiers to arrive at the pavilion. Some materialized out of thin air, while others charged through the front gate I had carelessly left open. They joined the others in encircling me. More bows and rifles were added to the mix of the weapons pointed at me. Those with magic had spells brewing in between their palms, waiting to be released with one threatening thrust. I scanned the soldiers'' faces for someone I recognized, hoping that Jay would be amongst them, even though I knew it was a false hope. Acid saturated my throat at the thought of why he was distracted.


    It didn''t matter, for one soldier recognized me. From the distinguished patches and bars on his uniform, I identified him as a sergeant. His face featured his shock. It didn''t keep him from reacting. He turned to another soldier and ordered, "Go and advise the chancellor." The lower-ranking soldier nodded and promptly raveled. I blinked several times, just to make sure he was gone. Hope flared in me. If the soldier was retrieving Sebastien, then maybe I had a chance to explain my side of the story before they threw me behind bars.


    The commanding soldier kept us frozen in our positions until Sebastien arrived. It was only minutes before the air shimmered with disturbance. Sebastien materialized out of it, assessed the area with his gaze¡ªincluding the collapsed gryphon¡ªand then marched through the circle of weapons. As he did so, he gruffly demanded, "Put down your weapons. She''s not a threat to any of you!" The command in the chancellor''s voice didn''t allow any room for protest. The soldiers returned their weapons to their holsters while the priests allowed theirs to fall at their sides. The magic dissipated in the air. My arms fell to my sides, limp. The standoff was over.


    Sebastien marched up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. His eyes drilled into mine as he questioned, "Are you okay?"


    My mouth was parched. I couldn''t choke out even a word, so I just nodded.


    Sebastien eyed me like he didn''t believe me. Aware of our audience, he turned away to face them. His attention settled on the man who had spoken for the pavilion''s denizens. "What is this all hoopla about, Priest Cano?"


    "We got a motion alarm when the girl stepped on the grounds, chancellor. When we went to investigate, she was kneeling over our revered Divine''s sacred companion." Priest Cano''s eyes drifted over to the fallen gryphon in remorse and anger. "We all felt it in our bones as soon as it happened. Aer is gone... assassinated!"


    The muscles in Sebastien''s back tightened. "You think that a mere girl, one who has never been trained in her abilities, took down Andralyn''s beast?" There was a slight ridicule in his voice.


    "We didn''t know who she was, chancellor," Priest Cano claimed, almost apologetic.


    "Know that she is innocent," Sebastien snapped. He inhaled a deep breath before continuing. When he did, his voice was calmer. "This is a morose moment for all of Astraera and its populace. I want the real perpetrator to be caught and held accountable for what has happened tonight. Sergeant Wendell will assist with leading the investigation." Sebastien nodded at the sergeant, who was standing nearby. The soldier nodded once to show his acceptance of this duty. "For right now, keep this incident private," Sebastien implored of the priest. "With the Resistance running amok, we don''t need to stress the public further with the news that Aer has been assassinated and what that means."


    "The perpetrator needs to be stopped," Priest Cano stressed. "If he has enough power to take down a god''s companion... and this isn''t the first time. The perpetrator has been doing this for a while now. We know that the Divine themselves are being hunted and killed! How many of the Divine will he kill before he''s stopped? By the priesthood''s accounts, he''s three-quarters the way done!"


    "He will be. We are aware of the issue, and you''d best remain focused on your Divine duties. We do not need any rogue priests hunting the perpetrator. You''d only be getting in the way." Sebastien advised in a conversation-ending tone. The head priest returned to join his fellow priests, who had been loitering together near the temple. Sergeant Wendell started to delegate tasks to his force. Two soldiers were working on creating a perimeter around the yard. Another two were capturing stills of the crime scene. The remaining were either sent out to search the area or to interview the priests.


    Sebastien''s hand landed on my back. With minimal pressure, he guided me away from the pavilion and back onto the main road. "You''ve had two eventful nights here, Briara,¡± Sebastien remarked neutrally. "This is starting to become a pattern for you."


    "I''ve had three eventful nights since my escape from jail, and I''ve only been free for four days," I said. A part of me wanted to add that I felt safer back in that cell at the county jail. I swallowed those words. Instead, I asked, "Was that really a Divine''s companion that was killed?"


    Sebastien nodded, his expression reflecting remorse. "Aer. One from Andralyn''s ancient herd."


    "He was a gryphon?"


    "Yes."


    I took that as I had a lot of different things to learn about this world. Yet, it was not the time. "Do you think the Resistance did this? Is that why you asked the priest to keep it quiet?"


    "Perhaps. No, I asked Priest Cano to keep quiet because the media tends to incite fear and irrationality in people when they get a story and run with it." Sebastien was noncommittal. "What did you see?"


    "Just one guy, working alone."


    "Can you describe him?"


    I shook my head. "Not beyond that he was tall. He was wearing a cloak, and it was too dark to see much."


    "Then how do you know it was a male?" Sebastien challenged.


    Taken aback, I paused. I started to doubt my instincts. "I don''t," I admitted.


    "Don''t feel bad," Sebastien responded. "Witness accounts are usually erred. Memory is a faulty thing, especially in moments of fear. Even if you saw the person and there had been better lighting, I would be hard-pressed to believe your description. You seemed pretty shaken up back there." I quelled the urge to argue with him.


    "What happens now?" I asked instead.


    Sebastien paused. "I don''t want to downplay his demise, and what happened tonight was atrocious. Such sloppy work for such a heinous crime. Aer was an honorable symbol for the Court of Air, despite one with little power. The court will mourn his loss for many months ahead. The perpetrator will be caught in due time. Fortunately, we have built a foundation that doesn''t rely on our Divine or their companions." Sebastien shoved his hands in his pockets. He waited until we had crossed the bridge connecting the seventh ring to the sixth before changing the topic. "What were you doing at the temple?"


    I glanced down at the ground, feeling a shameful blush heat my cheeks and the back of my neck. "I was just wandering around," I said pitifully.


    "I thought you were out with Sergeant Britton," pressed the Chancellor. At my surprised glance, he further said, "I suggested he be assigned to show you around the city? Was I wrong to make that suggestion?"


    "No." I shook my head. I suddenly felt like I was scrambling up the side of a cliff, trying to keep my balance.


    "I thought he would be a familiar face that might make you feel more comfortable around here."


    "It''s okay," I assured. "It wasn''t him. He brought me to a loud club, and after all those nights in solitary confinement, it was a bit much too soon. I had to get away and find some silence."


    Sebastien seemed to accept my excuse, for he didn''t press the matter any further. We arrived at my apartment twenty minutes later. Sebastien saw me in before leaving. He informed me he wanted to see me in the morning to review my evaluation results. I agreed, and when the apartment door shut, I cursed at myself. Was I being reckless on purpose? I promised myself I would be more careful in the future.

 TWENTY-FIVE

    I woke the next day intending to avoid another crisis. An assassination attempt, bombing, and the death of a Divine''s companion were more than enough adventure for some time. Knowing that a meeting with the chancellor waited for me later in the morning, I set out getting prepared for it methodically. I chose a blue blouse that had elegant frills around the collar and black slacks. I gathered my showered hair back into a low ponytail and consumed a seven-grain bagel smeared with cream cheese that had been delivered to my room. When the knock at my door came, I was finishing the cup of coffee that had accompanied my breakfast.


    Milo escorted me from my apartment to the chancellor''s office. He looked like he had started his morning early, and when we arrived in front of the double doors leading into Sebastien''s office, I learned why. Two seraphim soldiers were posted outside of the door. The double doors were cracked to reveal a semi-occupied conference table that had replaced the comfortable and informal seating area. Grayish wings could be seen through the crack. I could hear the murmur of conversation coming from within. Confused, I sent Milo a look. Milo simply advised, "Stay here. They are finishing up and the chancellor will meet with you afterwards." Without a look back, Milo slipped into his office next door.


    Sighing, I leaned against the wall. I caught one seraph soldier staring at me. His gaze quickly darted away when I confronted his gaze with my own. I recognized Sebastien''s voice floating out of the doors and strained to hear him. "This little movement is harmless! What evidence do they really have? Just one blood test revealing indicators of something unidentifiable? How does that indicate witchcraft?"


    A feminine voice answered him. "Queen Tatiana is nonetheless concerned that this movement will lead to the persecution of magical people again."


    "Of course she is. If she would only listen to reason and the information we''ve been providing over the past year, then she would realize that we are slowly getting the mortal governments on our side. This new movement doesn''t have the power that these governments do. They''re underground and unorganized. Whatever power they have, it will not be enough to overthrow what we have been organizing for decades. If the daemeyri are so afraid of another witch hunt, then you can provide them with a solution,¡± Sebastien ranted.


    "What solution is that?" inquired the same female voice.


    "Handing over the instruments!" Sebastien exclaimed with a thump of his hand against the tabletop. "As soon as they do, we can establish the paradise. How difficult is it for them to understand that?"


    "Still haven''t done the right thing and turned yourself in yet, I see. Though, I''m not all that surprised. There isn''t even an ounce of morality in you." A voice drawled from my right. I pinpointed it right next to the second soldier. My assumption was proven correct when the two seraphim soldiers glanced towards where the voice had come from. One of them even winced as if he was embarrassed by his prince''s comments.


    I stifled the urge to straighten. Instead, I forced myself to settle more into my lean and control the flood of negative emotion. I was pleased with the nonchalance in my voice as I responded, "I thought you were supposed to be free by now. Your agreement with the archangel fell through or something? Wasn''t it if you broke me out of jail, you''d be free, too?" The soldier to the right lifted his eyebrows over my sassiness. His eyes darted back to where Kyrian was standing as we waited for his response.


    "What makes you think I''m not free?"


    I rolled my eyes. It was all over his voice. I could hear the scowl he was wearing on his face as well as the antagonism in his voice. "You''re outside of the chancellor''s office in mage territory, standing next to two other seraphim soldiers. No, the archangel probably recanted on his offer just like Evangeline said he would and forced you to become a part of his entourage today." I knew I was taunting him. It was both in retaliation and masochistic, two sides of the same coin. As much as I was enjoying this unexpected freedom, my guilt sided with Kyrian. I didn''t deserve any of this. He was the only one in this new, deranged world who agreed with me, who wanted to lock me up again.


    "I heard you were almost killed the first night you were here. Shame you weren''t served your own medicine. Dying in a terrorist attack would be sweet karma finally coming for you," Kyrian sneered. By now, the soldiers were listening to our argument with wide eyes that followed our conversation as if they were watching a competition.


    The double doors pushed opened with Archangel Emerson at the forefront of the pack. He was followed by several winged others in similar black satin capes, one of them a female. The commanding and dignified air around them marked them as more archangels. Sebastien stood behind them as if he was showing them out. His attention immediately landed on me. His face revealed nothing about the outcome of the meeting as he gave me a solemn nod of recognition. I shrunk against the wall to make room for the burly seraphim and the broad stretch of their wings.


    Emerson''s gaze immediately landed on me and burned with recognition. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, effectively halting the procession. "Ms. Disraeli! You''re looking more lovely every single day."


    Speechless over his unexpected compliment, I struggled against the rush of heat to my cheeks and my mind scrambling for a response. Sebastien answered for me. "It''s the power of sleeping in an actual bed and eating proper food. I told you we would take good care of her." His hand lingered against the doorframe.


    "You''re just treating a cold-blooded killer like she''s a princess," Kyrian muttered, his voice full of disdain. It was loud enough to be heard by the entire delegation, despite coming from the back of the mass. "You might as well as lift her to a pedestal and give her sainthood while you''re at it." The flush against my skin darkened with anger and embarrassment.


    "Kyrian!" snapped Emerson. I followed the archangel''s gaze over to an empty section of wall, where I imagined the prodigal seraph was leaning against it with a dour attitude. "That is inappropriate. You will do well to keep your opinions to yourself."


    "It isn''t an opinion that she massacred one hundred four people," Kyrian said.


    "Oh, give it up, will you?" I muttered under my breath. My eyes drifted upwards out of exasperation.


    "And you''re suddenly the judge of morality?" Emerson ridiculed. Kyrian finally grew wiser and remained quiet. The archangel threw an apologetic glance in Sebastien''s direction before saying, "We shall be on our way. I''ll get back to you on the research." I allowed the archangel and his entourage pass by us in the hallway. When Kyrian walked past, I felt his glare¡ªwith its deeply rooted hatred¡ªlinger on me. I was grateful when the last of the seraphim''s feathered wings disappeared around the corner.


    Sebastien remained at his office''s entry. With a flick of his chin, he invited me in. Sebastien''s office provided hints as to the meeting he just had. Plates filled with leftover breakfast pastries and coffee carafes lingered on the conference table. A black folder was shut at the head of the table. Some of the black leather chairs had been pushed off against the wall and replaced with stools. I imagined the stools had been catering to the seraphim and their wings.


    "Have a seat, Briara, and help yourself to the leftover pastries, if you want," Sebastien suggested. As I navigated towards the conference table, choosing a seat at the opposite end of the where the black folder was, Sebastien headed towards his desk. He picked up a navy-blue folder and joined me at the table. I eyed the pastries as I waited for him; none of them on the picked-over plate looked too appetizing, especially after my breakfast. After Kyrian''s comments reminding me of my past, I wasn''t in the mood to eat.


    In the attempt to destroy the silence that was in the office, I questioned, "Do you always have so much to handle? It seems like you get little opportunity to sleep. Much less deal with family life." It seemed like he never left the office, and thus I was curious about his family.


    "I''ve been juggling a lot of responsibilities as of late. Fortunately, a family isn''t one of them. I wouldn''t know what to do if I didn''t have Milo keeping me organized. How have you been doing after everything?" I knew he meant the bombing and discovering the companion''s murder last night. Sebastien sat down in the seat opposite of me even though it had been replaced by a stool. The navy-blue folder sat in front of him. A silver and circular emblem had been imprinted on the cover. This close, it looked more like an envelope than a folder.


    "Okay," I replied. I bit my lip against the lie. In fact, I was more relieved than anything that Sebastien had believed me and hadn''t believed for one second I was the perpetrator. That relief overshadowed the small bit of sadness I felt over the companion''s death.


    Sebastien searched my face. If he sensed any of the truth, he said nothing. His forearms rested on the table, one over the other. "I got the results back from your evaluation."


    "Oh?" I tried to not be too eager to learn of which element ran through my bloodstream.


    Sebastien unhooked the back of the envelope and pulled out the folded piece of paper. He straightened it, rotated it around, and presented the paper to me. My eyes quickly roamed across the paper for answers. The top part focused on my name and other demographics, while the middle of the page went into a review of the test procedures, including who the proctors were. It wasn''t until the bottom of the page where I learned of what I truly wanted to know.


    Affinity: Inconclusive.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Blinking, I looked up at Sebastien. "What does this mean?"


    Sebastien reached for the paper. He folded it back into the navy folder. "It means that you are gifted, but testing didn''t reveal an affinity or level. It means that there will be some trial and error in your tutoring sessions."


    "Tutoring sessions?"


    "You''ll be starting today and will have private sessions with Professor Leander over at the Academia three times a week. Leander is one of the most esteemed professors of magic we have. He''ll be able to develop your affinity quickly." I was shocked by the lack of delay. I was expecting weeks of waiting for my training to begin, not two days after I got to Astraera.


    I bit my lip. "Are inconclusive tests usual?"


    "They are more prominent nowadays with the decline of our magical population," Sebastien answered, not meeting my gaze. "I wouldn''t worry about it. We''ve seen what you can do, and I''m certain Professor Leander will be able to help you. He''s an expert on all the affinities. I predict he''ll be able to further diagnose your magic." Sebastien paused before switching the subject. "There was another abnormality on your test. It is one that the veteran evaluators haven''t seen for a very long time, and the newer ones didn''t even know what they were looking at. Even when I saw it, I was quite stunned."


    "What is it?" I held my breath.


    Sebastien peered at me, searching my expression for any change as he questioned, "Have you ever heard of a sanctuary before?"


    I felt like I had just been punched in the gut. Everything I had done to keep the sanctuary and Hawk undisclosed and protected was for nothing. It had shown up in my results. I wasn''t expecting it to be the abnormality Sebastien was questioning me about, and it took me by surprise. My expression gave me away, and I knew I had to tell the truth. Taking a deep breath, I gave my reluctant answer. "Yes."


    Intrigued, Sebastien leaned forward. He settled his chin on his upturned fist. "From the lack of your confusion, you seem to be fairly acquainted with it."


    "I learned about it after I had been arrested and sent to Pueblo for a competency evaluation four years ago," I informed. "Mentally, emotionally... I was so out of control from the grief over what I had done that the doctors had to tranquilize me."


    Sebastien pressed his lips together. "I thought you blacked out at the massacre."


    "I still saw the footage of the massacre." I blinked away the remorse that never really faded. "It was only once, as I refused to watch it at my trial. That one time was enough to traumatize me. I probably saw that footage on repeat in my mind for weeks. The only safe place was when I was put under with the tranquilizers. It was enough to send me to the sanctuary." To my sanctuary, I corrected.


    "You''ve been there more than once," Sebastien guessed.


    I nodded. "It was how I managed my sanity in solitary confinement.¡± With those words, a chill traveled down my back. I was reminded of how similar my story was to that Zane Konstantinos guy the senators had spoken about at the dinner a couple of nights ago. They had been surprised he had kept his sanity intact while he had been incarcerated, too. "Eventually, I was prescribed the tranquilizers in pill form. If I saved enough of them, I could take the right amount to get me to the sanctuary."


    "I''ve never had the opportunity to go to one of them myself," Sebastien admitted. "However, I did some research into them a while back. I heard you could create any world you want there."


    I thought back to the boundless creativity I had used to create those many worlds Hawk and I traveled through. We had explored walking on clouds, vast underwater worlds, the light shows of aurora borealis... it wasn''t until the very end when I had started manipulating its physics. I still got excited over the upside down word I¡¯d created. "That''s right," I finally answered Sebastien. My hesitation prevented me from elaborating further on it.


    "Have you been back to it since your arrival here?" Sebastien wondered.


    "No," I sighed. My heart ached from the dismay I felt. It had only been a couple of days, but I still missed it. I missed Hawk''s company. "I need the ketamine pills I was getting at the jail," I admitted. Sebastien fell into contemplation. Whatever he was considering, I could not decipher from his expression. "Could the sanctuary lead to identifying my affinity?" I questioned.


    Sebastien''s mouth twitched as I distracted him from his thoughts with the question. "I don''t think so," he started. "When the mages were first created, they had vast amounts of magic in their blood, and the ability to access the sanctuaries. Many of them were granted the opportunity to do so. It didn''t matter what their affinities were. Then magic dwindled away in the mage bloodlines, and access to the sanctuaries became rare."


    This time, it was my turn to retreat into my thoughts. They became haunted by suspicion and paranoia. This time, Sebastien didn''t let me loiter amongst them as he declared, "Professor Leander is expecting you in thirty minutes. That gives us enough time to discuss a second matter."


    I pulled back, both physically and mentally. "What is it?"


    "I know you''ll be busy focusing on your training with Professor Leander. I want it to be your primary focus and I hate asking this of you. Still, there isn''t anyone else, and when I see an opportunity, I am hesitant to not act on it. You''re new here, new to this world. Your political prejudices have not been announced to the world yet. Besides that, with Galileo''s background, I am certain he trained you to go undercover."


    I remained hesitant. "He did.¡±


    Sebastien removed a single sheet of paper from underneath the evaluation envelope. I didn''t even see him bring it over to the conference table with him. With a flourish, he presented the paper and waited for me to make my assessments.


    There were two photographic portraits on the paper. From the uniforms and common backdrop the portraits shared, I realized I was looking at school portraits. The first photograph was of a male. Somehow, his portrait conveyed his tall height. The crown of his head was millimeters below where the portrait had been cropped. His oblong face narrowed into a pointy chin. He boasted the porcelain skin women from the Renaissance Era had craved. His vanilla blonde hair was a full thin layer over his skull. His eyes had a far, distracted look to them, as if he was thinking about algorithms. There was a name typed underneath the portrait. Cassiah Isaac Hawthorne.


    The second photo was of a cocoa-skinned brunette female. Her dark hair hung around her face in frizzy ringlets, and she at least looked like she had tried to look presentable for the picture. There was a faint tint of mascara against her lashes and a layer of blush on her cheeks. From the amount of eyeliner she used, she wanted to draw attention to her eyes. The name underneath photo read Macaila Jade Amherst.


    I immediately recognized the two people as the two loners who had sat at the end of the bar in Hellions and Halos. Looking for clarification, I glanced up at Sebastien. "These two are the offspring of suspected Resistance members. I want you to befriend them. They are still attending the Academia, so I''m sure your paths will cross eventually."


    "I saw them last night at the bar Jay likes to go to," I admitted. Already, a plot was formulating in my mind. The easiest way to complete Sebastien''s mission would be to approach them there, and not at the Academia.


    "I believe they have been sent to observe at Hellions and Halos, which is consequently the bar that a lot of soldiers like to go to. No doubt they are under orders from their parents to listen for anything that may give the Resistance an advantage. Sometimes, my soldiers have loose lips when they are intoxicated," Sebastien stated wryly. "If you can befriend them, and get them to believe you share their opinions, there is a chance they will take you into the Resistance''s inner circle."


    "You want me to spy for you.¡±


    Sebastien nodded. "Unfortunately, there''s only so much that our intelligence knows about the Resistance. They have been clever in keeping their organization a secret unless they want to make an announcement. I''ve had my other agents out and about, listening in Astraera. None of them have been able to pick up even a whisper about the Resistance. They have become more tight-lipped now than they ever were in the past." Sebastien paused. "I know it probably seems like I''m putting a lot of pressure on you right now. First, to master your magic, and now second, to infiltrate the Resistance. If you were an ordinary woman, I would hesitate to even bring this request to you. Yet, you and I know that is not the case, and you are not an ordinary woman. You come from an influential bloodline. I have no doubt you will do magnificent things. I don''t think I have to tell you how important this is to us, to the mages. If the Resistance has a secret weapon in their arsenal, it could be enough to ruin the paradise we are trying to implement for the entire world. You''ve already seen how powerful they can be: they assassinated seven of our senators."


    "That''s the total casualties from the bombing?" I confirmed.


    "Yes, and the chief senator was amongst those killed. It has caused some unrest in the Senate, as there is a new chief senator who has to get comfortable with his new duties."


    I swallowed over the flare of grief I felt. "Katharine Kolst is dead?" I inquired. Sebastien nodded, his face contorted with sadness. My fingers interlaced on my lap. Katharine Kolst had seemed sincere and friendly at the dinner. "Who else?"


    Sebastien named off the six others. One of them was Dae-Seong. I frowned as I remembered him stumbling out of the dining room. He had been impaled with a piece of shrapnel.


    "Is anything being done for them?" I questioned. For a moment, Sebastien looked confused. "Are there going to be funerals?"


    Sebastien settled back into his chair. He rubbed at an eyebrow. "Their families have chosen to keep the ceremonies private. I don''t think they want the press ruining the sanctity of their ceremonies. I have ordered a shine to be built outside of the Senate Chamber for the seven senators. Besides that, I''m not sure if their families will allow us to honor them any further. I think there is a bitterness."


    "How so?" I blinked.


    "There''s a belief that if I hadn''t had those five traitors executed, then those seven senators¡ªtheir loved ones¡ªwould still be alive. They think the Resistance retaliated." I thought both actions were immoral but thought it wise to not argue with Sebastien about why the blatant execution of the five traitors was unjustified. "The Resistance also took responsibility for the death of Andralyn''s companion last night."


    I looked up; my eyes were wide from shock. "What?"


    Sebastien nodded. ¡°It was all over this morning¡¯s news. They claim they are going to continue to hunt the gods until their demands are met. I believe they have the means to: they''ve already killed several other gods and their companions." Sebastien''s lips pressed together. "I can have the military out looking for them, put the priesthoods on notice. It still doesn¡¯t solve the issue; the Resistance has evaded detection thus far. I''m uncertain how they are doing it. It certainly is frustrating."


    I bit my lip, and Sebastien remained quiet as I milled over the train of thought. "The Resistance has been quite active for the last several nights," I started. "It seems interesting that no one has seen anything of them. Like they are shadows. Ghosts, even."


    "That''s why we need you, Briara. They are just too good at remaining undetected. Allow the assassinations to motivate you, Briara. Avenge those lives for us," Sebastien said. "I fear they have a secret weapon that can decimate everything I have achieved as chancellor. My sources believe that it''s being held at the Gates to the Heavenly Skies. However, I''m not sure where that is, and thus can''t do any reconnaissance on it. That''s why I need you to infiltrate the group. See if you can track down exactly where the gates are."


    "Okay, I''ll do it," I sighed, stretching my fingers. I glanced up from the table to meet his gaze. "I''m not sure how successful I''ll be. Galileo taught me how to go undercover, though I''ve never infiltrated anything this deep before."


    Sebastien tilted his head. "That''s not true," he disagreed. "You infiltrated Nashville and started an entirely different life there. You maintained that identity for ten years. I say you are a pro at it."

 TWENTY-SIX

    With this new task placed on my shoulders, Sebastien determined it was time to leave for the Academia. That there would be no further discussion regarding how to infiltrate the Resistance revealed the chancellor trusted me. He wanted information and believed I could provide it if I convinced Macaila Amherst and Cassiah Hawthorne to trust me. Although I doubted I could arrive at that level of trust with them, I was going to try. If it would prevent more deaths, I would try.


    "It''s time to go." Sebastien stood up and moved away from the table. After he threw an expectant look at me, I followed him. He put out his arm for me to grab. My first touch was glancing, light. However, after some consideration of the space vortex we were about to hurl through, I tightened my grip.


    "Where is the Academia?" I wondered. It seemed to be the simplest question I could ask.


    "Canada, believe it or not," Sebastien said.


    I felt the rush of magic swarm around me as Sebastien manipulated the streams of space. Like it had been before, the transport seemed instantaneous, like it happened in the blink of an eye. Sebastien''s office fell away. My entire body was transported to the fortress that the Academia resided in. Sebastien and I stood in between the edge of an evergreen forest and a gate meant to keep interlopers out. At this time, the gate was open to allow people in.


    Awestruck, I stared at the fortress and its surroundings. The mages had built the school on a wide plateau of land that rose high above the surrounding land. The surrounding land formed deep canyons and valleys around the plateau. Only the main bridge in front of the entrance gate crossed the canyon. On the other side of the valleys and canyons, there was more elevated land¡ªnone higher than the plot the fortress sat on, though. The forest continued, stretching past my line of sight. The school itself had been constructed with classical architecture in mind. Rows upon rows of Georgian style windows ran across the fortress''s walls. One part of the fortress had been created as if it was a grand chapel, matching the likes of Notre Dame in Paris, with its spires and lengthy fortifications.


    There was a large square courtyard in front of the entrance, separated by a wide cobblestone walkway. Oak trees had been planted to promote aesthetics. Several uniformed teenagers were loitering underneath the trees. Some had books propped open on their knees. Others were lounging on their stomachs, with their legs up in the air, talking to their companions. One sat alone and was focused on eating his sandwich. The cobblestone walkway led up to a grand entry. It was bordered on both sides by two towers. A large clock was built into the architecture over the entry.


    "You know, almost every single mage has been taught here. Your very own mother wandered these grounds once," Sebastien chatted as we started walking the path down to the school''s front doors. He sounded nostalgic. As we walked by the students underneath the trees, they perked up with interest.


    "She never spoke about her childhood or adolescent years," I said.


    "She probably didn''t want to blurt something out about magic and have you questioning her."


    "Probably." I sighed. "Do you know what type of student she was?"


    "One of the popular ones. She still maintained good scores and got along with the professors. A lot of the students looked up to her."


    "Because of her status?"


    "You could say that."


    I bit my lip. Once upon a time, Jay had also walked these walls before being expelled. I presented another question to the chancellor. "If you knew Jay was in Astraera, why didn''t you tell me?"


    "Jay has been on his own journey. It has been good for him. I didn''t want to destroy the progress he''s made with having a disciplined structure around him by introducing an unknown into the equation. Though after your incidental contact at the dinner, it was time. Having you back in his life would permit him more growth." I grimaced. I wasn''t satisfied with the answer.


    The Academia''s front entry doors were propped open, allowing us easy access to the wide foyer. Stone had been heavily used to construct the foyer. It covered the floor, walls, and the two staircases on either side of the foyer that met and led to a secondary level. As my eyes adjusted from the bright sunshine to the interior darkness, I saw tapestries against the walls. The images depicted on the tapestries were vastly detailed¡ªenough to tell a story from just one simple picture. They seemed to feature the school''s beginnings. I didn''t get much of a chance to study them, for the foyer was empty apart from the single woman standing in the middle of the space.


    As we approached, the stern woman''s narrowed eyes assessed me. Her height made her imposing and intimidating, as did her thick red lips, which were pressed into a narrow line. Her dark-colored hair was parted and fashioned into a bun at the nape of her neck. There were a pair of pearls on her earlobes. Her slate gray suit completed the ensemble. She looked as if she could send a few students running out of her office, crying from her bark. Perhaps she was why the foyer was void of students. "Chancellor," the woman greeted when we were close enough. There was an underlying confidence in her voice from that single word. This was a woman who viewed herself as having equal standing with the head of state.


    "Dean Winters," exchanged Sebastien. "May I introduce you to Briara Disraeli?"


    The dean placed her hands over her heart and nodded in my direction. Her lack of enthusiasm revealed her true feelings about our presence on school grounds. "This is unprecedented, chancellor."


    "Professor Leander has graciously offered his personal time to train her," Sebastien declared.


    "Yes, I know. He has assured me his priority is to his current students," Dean Winters returned in a drawl. "As long as it remains that way, I am fine with allowing this new arrangement to proceed."


    Their mutual understanding clarified, the dean led us out of the foyer. We followed her up the right staircase and veered down the hallway that had been hidden from view while we had stood in the foyer. Doors lined the hallway; most of them were shut. However, in one of the first doors we passed that was open, I saw children as young as four years old settled around a table, wearing smocks, and maneuvering their paint-splattered fingers around on a large sheet of butcher paper. Shocked, I sent Sebastien a questioning look. "The Academia has a daycare option for those mage families who can''t afford a one-parent salary," Sebastien clarified. Dean Winters, who was walking in front of us, shot a blank glance over her shoulder.


    "Even though you are not technically a student here, Ms. Disraeli," the dean started as we rounded a corner at the end of the hallway, "you are still expected to follow the rules. I''ll make sure Professor Leander provides you a copy of the student handbook. We do not hesitate to expel from our school. The focus is on learning, and I will not have you detract from others'' opportunities. Most of them are limited in the ones they get, so it has always been my goal they receive equal opportunities in these walls."


    The floor underneath our feet began to transform into a subtle ramp. "Yes, Dean Winters," I agreed, although there was a trapped giggle in my throat from Sebastien''s eye roll behind her back. I didn''t think it was wise to bring up Jay''s expulsion.


    "Just so we''re clear."


    "You won''t have any problems with her, Samantha," Sebastien assured. "She just wants to learn how to control her powers."


    There was another directional switch in the hallway, and as soon as we rounded the corner, I saw we were in a broader hallway. The windows lining the walls revealed we were over another courtyard. The building jetted out into the courtyard, accessed by the only doors in the hallway. It was to these double doors that Dean Winters led us to. She held it open for us to enter before following.


    Our entrance created a stir in the classroom, distracting the students from the lecture the professor was providing. Several curious gazes looked back, only to return to the front of the room. Several backs straightened from seeing the chancellor and Academia''s dean entering their classroom. The professor''s eyes drifted to us, wary with recognition. He didn''t interrupt his lecture to greet us. We found places against the wall next to the door. The classroom had stadium style seating. The students'' desks were arranged in tiers and separated by the main aisle of steps leading down into the classroom floor. Two large counters faced the two separate sides of the audience. Behind them, the space was pitch black. At first, I thought it was a screen. I had to reassess this when I couldn''t find its borders. As the professor spoke, images appeared on the black canvas behind him.


    "As that energy builds up in our bodies, it has nowhere else to escape to. Scientists have concluded that a child can start becoming a vessel for magical energy as early as five years old, although it is extremely rare. It is more commonplace for children to develop that capability over time, and the ability to be displayed in small magical outbursts. Fortunately, these outbursts are minimal and easily contained. It is important for the child to start receiving formal education in controlling his powers as soon as possible after these initial signs. We start out with training them on how to use incantations and gestures to funnel that magic into an intentional act. At the intermediary level, they graduate to gestures only, and then at expert, it''s all in the mind. We will explore the theory behind magical development later this semester. For now, I want you all to focus on reading chapter two in your texts as homework. It should lead to some fascinating discussion two classes from now. Next class, we will have a live demonstration on the magical affinities and levels, so come prepared to make observations and take notes. I look forward to seeing what you observe. You are dismissed."


    The professor timed his dismissal with the ring of the nearby clocktower. The students were quick to slam their textbooks shut and thrust them into backpacks. Some had the routine down enough that they were already climbing the steps to exit the auditorium ten seconds after the bell had rung. We were the recipients of several curious glances. One student, who had shaggy black hair and ambition in his eyes, even greeted Sebastien. "Good morning, Chancellor Kersey. I hope you''re having a good day." Sebastien nodded back at him; the rest of the class had filed behind the boy in the effort to push out of the classroom as quickly as possible.


    To my astonishment, Macaila Amherst and Cassiah Hawthorne were amongst those in the middle. My eyes met with Macaila''s curious hazel ones when I felt her stare on me. She quickly averted her eyes. I watched them until they disappeared through the two auditorium doors.


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    When the auditorium had cleared out, I followed the dean and chancellor down the steps and to the main floor, where the professor was waiting for us. His years of wisdom and life were reflected by his salt and pepper hair¡ªwhich he had a full head of¡ªand the deeply rooted lines running across his forehead and branching out from the corners of his eyes. His face had a rounder, fuller frame to it. A twig by no means, the professor still dressed in a stately, fashionable manner, opting for a sweater vest and black slacks. I ruled that his ancestry probably came from mid-to-eastern Europe. "Chancellor Kersey, Dean Winters," he nodded in greeting before turning his gaze to me. There was a spark of interest living in his eyes. "And you must be Briara Disraeli."


    "I am," I confirmed just as I stepped off the bottom step.


    "Lucas Leander," the professor introduced. "I had the honor of training your mother when she was first starting out. You look remarkably like her."


    I sucked in a deep breath. "I hope I live up to the legacy she left behind."


    "Between his experience and your focus and motivation, I have no doubt that you will," Sebastien assured. I saw Lucas Leander''s eyes shift from me to Sebastien. They maintained eye contact longer than usual, which was also punctuated by well-timed blinks. They were communicating silently, and it seemed as if the dean and I were excluded from that communication. My eyes darted back and forth from the professor and chancellor without any success in deciphering the exchange.


    "Well, we will leave you two to your first lesson," Dean Winters finally interrupted the secret exchange. The chancellor was agreeable and left with the dean.


    The professor was silent until he heard the door shutting behind his two superiors. "I haven''t taught beginner magic since the beginning of my career. Would never go back to it, either. I still blame trying to wrangle a room full of wild, hyper seven-year-olds led to my gray hairs." Leander''s face contorted in a mockery of pain. It brought a sympathetic smile to my face. "Luckily for me, you are not a seven-year-old, and probably a lot more attentive." The professor''s hand had been searching amongst the items cluttering the counter. It seized one item with purpose and brought it up before his face. It was a multi-sided wooden die, perhaps with eighteen different sides. He gestured for me to follow him to the back of the room. I didn''t see the door that had been inserted into the black wall until I was right up on it. Leander dug his fingers into a thin crack in the wall and slid the door open.


    "I saw that your evaluation results came back inconclusive." Leander changed the topic of conversation.


    "That won¡¯t cause any issues, will it?" I asked as I walked through the door.


    I stepped into a wide gymnasium. The floor was a matte black wood. Four large circles were drawn on the wood in each of the gymnasium''s corners. One smaller circle was in between the larger ones. Several distinct lines stretched across the floor and connected the circles to one another. There wasn''t any pattern to them; they were varying lengths away from each other. Each of the circles contained one symbol that was imprinted on the floor.


    "No. The first exercise I was going to do with you is one I did with my beginner students. Even though we had conclusive evaluation results with them, the exercise told me a lot more about whom I was dealing with, as well as what I was dealing with." Leander walked to the centermost circle. He bent down in its epicenter to lay the die on the ground. The die tipped over to rest on its side. Leander gestured for me to stand in front of it while he migrated to the circle''s exterior edge. Uncertain, I stood over it, staring down at it, wondering what I was supposed to do.


    Standing in front of me, Leander placed his hands behind his back. "Briara, I want you to make the die spin." Frowning, I crouched to pinch the top part of the die in between my thumb and index finger. "No! Make it spin with your mind." My gaze flicked up to look at him. "Those with hali affinities make it spin through some type of water manipulation," Leander explained as I slowly shifted to my full height. "They create some sort of wave, or some ice. The higher-level ones create something like a hurricane. The pyra affinities are notorious for setting it on fire, while micas make the floor vibrate. Aeries have it easy, as theirs is just air manipulation.


    "I want you to first think about moving that die. Just visualize forcing it to spin. You know how it feels when you manually force it. You''ve felt the point in between your thumb and index finger. I want you to imagine doing that without touching it. How will you do it? What does your mind naturally resort to?" Leander walked along the circle''s arc. His feet remained on the line''s circumference while his hands remained behind his back. I stared hard at the die, doing as I was instructed. Inside of my head, I could see it going back to balancing on its tip and rotating slowly on it before gaining speed. I separated myself from my body and only focused on the vision in my mind, willing it to work. I did this until I could feel the fatigue of focusing really set in. My concentration wavered from my doubt. Admitting defeat and searching for guidance, my eyes sought Leander. He had migrated around the circle and was in a different place than when I first started the exercise.


    "Do some children visualize whatever affinity they have moving the die?" I questioned.


    "Some do," he stated. "You can start visualizing with each element to see if one of them works for you."


    "How long did I stare at the die for the first time?" I inquired.


    "A good five minutes or so."


    I sighed and changed my visualization tactic. I tried to propel the die into movement using each affinity. I focused and visualized flames prompting the die into movement; the die slipping and sliding around on the ice that suddenly appeared underneath it; a sudden gust of wind whirling it around; and the floor vibrating underneath my feet. With each failed attempt, my frustration mounted. The images from the Union Station Massacre came back to me as I got inside of my head. I had manipulated air, or how else could Jay have been thrown backwards like a rag doll? I had manipulated fire; there had been flames and smoke eating away at the interior of the building when I had regained consciousness. Parts of the interior had been flooded as well, while ravines separated different sections of the floor. There had been aspects of every affinity there. Despite this, my doubt expanded with each failed attempt. Inconclusive was seared across my mind; I was haunted by its repetitiveness in my head.


    By the end of the practice, the die remained exactly where Leander had left it. I was quashing the urge to hurl the die across the gymnasium. I was crouched over it. My eyes were twitching with frustration and impatience. My hands were formed into fists at my sides, and I could feel my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. I felt tension straining against my forehead. I repeatedly shuffled through the affinities, believing that if I wanted it enough, Leander''s task would be possible. Academics, covert studies, and gymnastics had never been difficult for me to learn; it had come naturally. This magic was something else entirely.


    "Let''s call it," Leander declared, his tone sympathetic, after I had been trying for two hours. He materialized in my field of vision within the circle, bent down, and the die disappeared in his fist. He stood up with grace.


    "I don''t understand why I couldn''t get it," I moaned. I sat on the floor, slouching, with my legs splayed out in front of me. Humiliated over my failure, I stared hard at a blank section of the floor in front of me. "It exploded out of me a couple of times before."


    "The first time¡ªthe one at Union Station¡ªwas a reaction from the rasa stone your mother implanted in you. It had acted like a dam. You spent years collecting and storing your magic within your body. When that dam collapsed, that gigantic flood of your magic left you. Did you feel extremely fatigued afterwards? Faint-headed?" I nodded. "It means you reached your magical limitations that day and caused a burn out. If you had continued past that and tried to tap into the environmental magic around you, you would have destroyed yourself. You toe the line with death every time you use that much magic." At my horrified expression, Leander assured, "That''s why we are here today: to help you control it and learn your limitations."


    "Do people try to keep any magic in reserve or do they just blow all of it in one go?" I wondered.


    "It depends on the person and situation." Leander shrugged. "Like everything else, there are the savers and then the more reckless ones."


    "How long does it take for a person''s magical well to fill up again?" Maybe that was why I couldn''t manipulate the die today. Maybe it took a lot of time just for that well to have something in it. It had been three years in between my magical episodes. The episode at the jail¡ªwhere I had thrown officers and demons backwards without lifting a hand¡ªhad been on a smaller scale than the massacre. I still felt empty, exhausted afterwards. I had basically fainted in Kyrian''s arms. It had only been a couple of days since then. Perhaps more time was needed in order to manipulate the world around me.


    "Again, everyone is different," Leander answered. He walked towards the other side of the gymnasium where another door was. Uncertain, I scrambled to my feet and hurried to follow him. "You displayed a valiant effort today. To give you more of an idea of what magic looks like, I''d like for you to come to my next Magical Theory lesson in two days. It''s two hours before your next lesson. You can come for the class, and then we''ll begin your lesson when I dismiss the class. I want you to see the demonstrations so you can get more exposure as to how magic is used."


    Leander reached the door. Like the one connecting the classroom to the gymnasium, it was one that slid open. Beyond was a small square room. For a few seconds, I was blinded with panic, and taken back to the interrogation room at the Denver Police headquarters. My heart thumping against my chest, I observed that there was only one chair at the round table. A large vertical slab of amethyst stood on the table. Those things were the only items in the room. I sent a questioning look at Leander, who promptly answered, "Some of my students get into their heads a bit too much. It seemed to me you were getting into yours during the practice. To calm them down before releasing them into the harsh world, I have them meditate. The amethyst helps calm them. It''s important that they return to the world calm for obvious reasons. We''ve had our fair share of accidental magical discharges." Leander motioned to the chair. "Take a seat," he directed.


    Uncomfortable, I slid in front of him and settled into the chair. The chair was facing away from the door, putting my back to it. I craned my body around to face Leander. His entire body hovered in the doorway, blocking any escape. His hand was curled around the edge of the door. "You''re going to shut the door?" I asked apprehensively.


    "It will help you focus on the amethyst and meditating." Leander assured before he started to shut the door.


    "How long do I have to do this for?" I hurried to ask.


    Leander didn''t even pause as he shut the door. "A good while. I''ll let you know when you''re done," he promised. The door shut resolutely.


    Sighing, I turned back around in the chair. It was a wooden one, and I couldn''t imagine how Leander''s students could get comfortable enough to focus. I inhaled a deep breath and forced myself to relax. My hands had been curled into fists, so I flattened them on my thighs. I rotated my shoulders back to loosen the tension residing there. I fought past multiple distractions in my mind, letting my eyes linger on the amethyst rock in front of me. The shades of violet were visible from the rock''s dull crust. The jewel''s surface was uneven and broken, as if someone had shattered the rock into two, and this was the only piece that was left. Wondering how long Leander would force me to meditate, and if he would come to get me, I started counting the small squares of purple jetting out from the crust.


    I was doubting the meditation and amethyst''s effects when I felt the first signs of a tingling sensation on my arms. It was then that I realized I had lost my focus counting the purple squares. I had been on row thirty-seven, column eight before my focus had drifted. Not remembering when I had started to zone out, I wondered how much time had passed¡ªif any at all. I had an urge to glance at the door behind me, one that I couldn¡¯t give into because I couldn''t muster the physical energy to rotate my head to check. The amethyst continued to mesmerize me. It seemed to glitter and sparkle, which it had not been doing before within the shadows of the room. A melody of chimes played in the background; its volume was so soft, I could not determine which direction it came from. The tingling spread to my legs, and then my feet.


    There was only one other time I had felt something similar. Kit, Jay, and I had been in Santiago. I had been sixteen, and Galileo had taken us out for dinner. When Galileo hadn''t been looking, Jay slipped Kit and me an edible. Back then, I had trusted Jay so much that I ate the gummy, not thinking anything about it. I spent that entire dinner attempting to act normal, despite the high, paranoid that Galileo would punish me if he caught me. I had auditory hallucinations of a dog crying several streets down. When we got to the hotel room, I remember simply lying on the bed on my back and unable to move my limbs. I was frozen...

 TWENTY-SEVEN

    "Bria, are you going to sleep the entire day away, or are you going to get up and come with me tonight?" Jay''s judgmental voice hovered above me, seemingly a thousand miles away. In a way, it became a tether to draw me back to earth. I slowly became aware of my body lying on a soft mattress and covered by an equally soft blanket. My body was at that perfect temperature, nestled against the soft body pillow in the most comfortable position. "Bria," Jay whined above me. "You can''t spend your entire day in bed. You''ve had years to rest! It''s time to play now!"


    "Go away," I mumbled. My mouth felt parched.


    There was a sudden shift in temperature as my blanket was disturbed and thrown off me. I groaned, crunching into a sideways ball. The blanket removal was only the first disturbance. Jay drew back my curtains, allowing sunshine to flood into the room. "Come on, Bria. It''s already five in the evening. It''s time to get up."


    Thinking it was much earlier¡ªperhaps nine in the morning¡ªI hesitated. Then the realization hit: it couldn''t have been nine in the morning. The last I remembered, I had been with Professor Leander for my first lesson. That had to have lasted into the afternoon. Pushing my tangled hair away from my face, I sat up. I glanced around, disoriented. I was still in the clothes I had worn for the lesson. My shoes were still on, albeit the laces were untied on one. Had I just fallen into bed after the lesson? "I don''t even remember deciding to take a nap." I worked on trying to blink the disorientation away.


    "A nap?" Jay scoffed. "I think you went to sleep yesterday and just never woke up, Sleeping Beauty."


    "No," I denied, adamant. "I just had my first magic lesson."


    "That was yesterday, Bria," Jay laughed.


    I shook my head. "No, it wasn''t."


    "You had your lesson at the Academia the day after I showed you the city, right?" I nodded slowly. "That was two days ago, Bria. Your lesson was yesterday. What did you do afterwards? Did you go into town and just party it up until you blacked out? Unfair that I wasn''t invited, but I won''t hold it against you," Jay joked.


    Dismayed over the time I had wasted, I glanced down at my lap. I didn''t find his joke all that hilarious. At the massacre, I had blacked out. I still didn''t have any memory of that time. If I had blacked out this time, and the same thing happened... no, last time, I had returned to consciousness immediately. I hadn¡¯t fallen into bed and slept for twenty-four hours. "I must have," I finally agreed. I rubbed my face.


    "Don''t be too shocked," Jay consoled. "Magic takes a lot out of people when they are first learning how to control it. People tend to use the magic stored in their bodies way too fast. The skilled ones know when they are getting down to their limits and stop before they send themselves into fatigue for days. You must have used all your magic yesterday during your lesson."


    "I couldn''t even get the die to spin," I muttered, doubtful.


    Jay patted my shoulder mockingly. "The old Leander had you doing the die exercise, huh? Poor, poor thing. You survived, though, so it''s time to get up, clean up, and let''s get the hell out of here. There''s pleasure to be had!"


    I peered up at Jay, blinking. "Where are we going?"


    "Hellions and Halos," Jay said as if I should have known this.


    Knowing he was waiting for me to get ready, I tried to be quick about my tasks. My movements were clumsy with grogginess. I was so focused on becoming more presentable that my mind didn''t have a chance to dwell on the fact that I had essentially missed a full day by sleeping. I was disappointed in myself. There was still so much of this new world of mages I wanted to explore. I had wasted an entire day when I could have been getting orientated with my new home. A part of me didn''t want to go to the bar with Jay again. I didn''t want to see him flirt with Avery as a precursor to their champagne room frolic. Yet, Sebastien had assigned me a mission. I had to get closer to Macaila and Cassiah to infiltrate the Resistance. Regardless of whether I thought it would work, I had to try. Just as I had to go with Jay to Hellions and Halos, just in case those two made an appearance.


    I made Jay wait for only thirty minutes as I executed my best attempt to look more presentable. As I was taking a shower, I noticed the layer of dust and dirt particles on my skin. I had superficial scratches darting across my limbs that I had no memory of receiving. When I was massaging the shampoo into my hair, my fingertips came away smeared with an ashy blackness. My heartbeat pounded in my chest, and I only scrubbed my scalp harder.


    After I was done, I found Jay laying on his back on my bed with his hands settled in a relaxed position on his chest. "Your bed is a lot more comfortable than what we get in the barracks," he justified. "I may start staying in your room from now on." There was a teasing lilt in his voice. Yet, I knew he was serious, testing the water. He wanted an invitation. I swallowed, standing a couple of feet away from the foot of the bed.


    "Come. I''m getting hungry," I said instead.


    Jay groaned in reluctance before he pushed himself upward and stood. "You''re going to let me stay the night soon," he proclaimed as he followed me out of my apartment and into the residential hallway. "You wouldn''t want your poor friend to get a shitty night''s rest, would you? A friend who does very important work for the government. Your bed is obviously heavenly: you basically slept through an entire day!"


    I shook my head. "It makes up for the thin mattress over steel I slept on for three years."


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    "True."


    After we had left the castle''s grounds, I mustered up the courage to ask, "How long have you''ve known Avery for?" She didn''t seem to be his type; he liked the innocent ones he could corrupt.


    Jay shrugged, noncommittally. "Less than a year."


    "You two seem close."


    "She''s been a bit clingy, really. I don''t know how to tell her I''m not interested anymore." There was the Jay I knew. He loved corrupting innocent women before dumping them when something new came along.


    That left an awkwardness between us until we reached the steps to Hellions and Halos. My second experience there started off much like the first. This time, knowing what to expect, I went through the motions. I took part in conversations with Jay''s peers, ordered an appetizer and drink, and yearned for one of Jay''s Ambrosias as I fought against the constant internal debate whether it would take me to the sanctuary. Jay''s friends were a lot more jovial tonight than two nights ago. Their Ambrosia stock had been replenished, and with it, their self-worth just got elevated to that of king or queen. By the time the table disbanded to entertain different activities, I was sitting on the edge of the bench, my foot tapping incessantly with the energy I couldn''t show above the table.


    Jay and I walked over to the main bar together. His eyes immediately gravitated towards Avery, who was working behind the bar, and I was forgotten. Biting my lip, I scanned the bar for my prey.


    I spotted Macaila and Cassiah where they had been two nights ago. Like then, there seemed to be a bubble that separated them from the rest of the revelry. They made themselves inconspicuous enough that no one paid them any attention. I told Jay I would meet up with him later, not meaning any of it, and uncertain if he even heard it. Bracing myself, lifting my chin, and throwing my shoulders back, I walked over to my targets. There was just enough space at the bar in between the two misfits and the party of females out for a girls night. I angled myself away from the females and towards my prey.


    The bartender from last time, Reagan, I remembered, was immediately in front of me. For a second, I was thrown off. She had been at the opposite side of the bar before I had left my previous seat next to Jay. "What can I get you?" she inquired. She kept her voice pleasant, although if I listened carefully, I could hear a slight stress and demand to it. I wondered if she was some sort of guard dog. Tonight, she was clad in a red flannel shirt that was tied right underneath her breasts and revealed her toned stomach underneath it. Her black shorts were just as equally revealing. Her hair was secured in two braids that hung over her shoulders. There was a fierce protectiveness lingering in Reagan''s eyes. It soon disappeared as a blank professional mask slipped onto her face.


    I jerked my head over to Macaila''s drink. "I''ll take what she''s having."


    "She''s having a dirty Shirley Temple," Reagan said slowly. "Did you want to change the alcohol?"


    I shook my head. "No, keep it the same."


    Reagan tapped the countertop. "I assume this will be under Britton''s tab?"


    Macaila''s eyes flashed.


    "Yes," I confirmed. There was some sort of satisfaction in charging my drinks to his tab. I was not above spiting him for abandoning me that first night to have his cock serviced.


    "I''ll make it top shelf, then." Reagan smirked. Reagan pivoted and reached for one of the better vodkas they had on hand.


    "You know that guy? The soldier, I mean." The question''s delivery itself was awkward for all the unmasked scorn attached to it. It came from Macaila. I glanced at her, pretending to be surprised by her approach. Her spine had straightened, and she had pulled her drink in closer to her body, as if she was protecting it. Beside her, Cassiah was leaning forward against the bar to get a better view of me.


    By her scorn, I realized that her opinion of Jay was unfavorable. If she was a frequent attendee of the bar, like Sebastien had said she was, I understood why her opinion of Jay was negative. His behavior seemed consistent, and I had to suppress the questions of how many times, with how many women, those two had seen Jay retreat into the champagne rooms. I toed the edge of getting her and Cassiah to accept me or making them despise me. I could get them to trust me if I said the right things. Her stare informed me I would have only one chance to make this work. "I grew up with him," I admitted with a meager half-shrug. Reagan slid my drink towards me. I immediately uttered my gratitude and took a sip of the drink. To my delight, it was equally lemony sweet and bitter from the spirits.


    "I''m sorry," Macaila declared loudly. I looked at her in confusion. "It''s just that he''s a dick."


    I suppressed the loyal part of me that wanted to argue with her and defend Jay. Galileo had trained me better than that. I had a mission to complete. Also, in a way, I could understand their opinion. Jay had always been ruthless, bold, and sarcastic. He never cared about what he said or if his behavior hurt another''s feelings. "I haven''t been around him for three years," I confessed. "When he realized Jay and I knew each other, the chancellor asked Jay to show me around Astraera."


    "You''re new here?"


    "That explains why you were with the chancellor and dean two days ago," Cassiah finally piped in, his interest shining through his eyes. "We saw you with them when you came into our Magical Theory class."


    "Do you have an affinity?" Macaila asked.


    "Yes, though we don''t know quite what it is."


    Reagan, seeing that I wasn''t about to attack her friends, warily drifted away to help other customers further down the bar. I caught her looking back, checking on her friends several times. "How is that even possible?" Cassiah peered down at me. Both were excited to be talking to someone new.


    "Very odd," Macaila agreed. Macaila''s eyes drifted over my shoulder. Her look darkened. "I can''t believe they paired you up with him." Twisting around in my seat, I saw Jay was talking to another female; this one appeared to be of Asian descent. I didn''t even try to conceal my grimace as I turned back around. I took a drink from my cocktail and ended up consuming it in its entirely.


    When I finished, I asked, "Know of any good places where we can go to hang out? Maybe a place with a better dance floor?"


    Macaila and Cassiah exchanged a look. Their expressions were so easy to read that I could see the idea appealed to them, even though duty was preventing them from saying yes immediately. Come on, I thought, take the bait. View me as na?ve enough to give you all the information you want. It was then when I realized we hadn''t properly introduced ourselves yet. I had been relying on the information Sebastien had given me. "I''m Bria, by the way." I interrupted their silent communication.


    Macaila turned around to face me. "Mac," she offered, hesitant.


    "It''s short for Macaila Jade," Cassiah informed. "I''m Cass."


    "Short for Cassiah Isaac," Macaila sniped with an eye roll. I hid a smile. "There''s a place in the arts district with a dance floor."


    Macaila and Cass finished their drinks and informed Reagan they were leaving. Reagan looked apprehensive momentarily, and like she was about to argue with the departure. She said nothing as I stood up. I didn''t tell Jay anything, and I doubted he even noticed I was leaving.

 TWENTY-EIGHT

    I felt a tremendous sense of relief when the fresh air hit my face as soon as we stepped out onto the property''s stoop. It was my turn to be shocked when Macaila wrapped her fingers through mine and pulled me through the crowds that had formed on the street. She weaved in and out through people, finding spaces that hadn''t been there seconds before. Cass was used to Macaila''s erratic methods of pushing through the crowd and followed us.


    The place Macaila had in mind was more laid back and less ritzy than Hellions and Halos. The bartenders behind the bar consisted of both sexes who wore basic black t-shirts and blue jeans. They handed out more beers than cocktail glasses. The bar took up the middle of one side of the room and had seating around its perimeter. At the front of the bar, the DJ on the stage was focusing on producing music that made the walls vibrate. Coyote Rose was written on the sign above the entrance.


    On the other side of the large space was the dance floor I had asked Macaila and Cass for. Couples were swing dancing in the limited space they had secured for themselves. A handful of singles were line dancing in the middle of the floor. Conversation circles had formed around the perimeter. Those people were swaying in tune with the beat. One male was moving his arms as he bounced his hips back and forth. There was an energy in Coyote Rose that hadn''t been in Hellions and Halos. These people were gripping their happiness with both hands. They were accepting. I felt myself emerging from the protective barrier I had built around myself¡ªand if only for those few hours, I lost myself in the music.


    Macaila didn''t have any inhibitions dancing. Her body immediately moved in accordance with the beats the DJ was producing. Cassiah was a bit more reserved, and his movement was limited to bobbing his head, tapping his foot, and swaying his upper torso. Still, a weight had been lifted off them, too, and they didn''t have to observe to report back. This was a new side I was seeing of them. This was a place where they could be free¡ªwhere we all could be free. I lost all sense of duty in the music and danced in our small circle with Macaila and Cass.


    The lighting had been reduced to darting streaks of blues, greens, purples, and golds. The premises were packed. Quickly, I felt my shirt clinging to my back and my sweat drenching my hair. My heartbeat thumped excitedly in my chest. Because of the severe lack of music in jail, I hadn''t danced for a very long time. My movements were awkward at first. As the night wore on, my body recalled grace, choreography, and dynamics.


    There was a freedom in getting lost in the music. It reminded me of the times I would lose myself in my aerial rehearsals. The music would blare in the studio as I flipped through the air while Olivia sat at her desk, multitasking between paperwork and spotting me. Now, I didn''t hesitate to gyrate my hips with the quick country-hip-hop beat while my fingers run upwards through my hair. I added little hops, turns, and kept my arms moving. The DJ kept a variety of songs flowing.


    I caught others staring at me as I got more comfortable and confident. I was used to the attention when I danced. A man in blue jeans and a basic gray t-shirt approached me and asked me to swing dance with him. At that point, I didn''t want to leave Macaila and Cass, and refused the offer. Even though we had only known each other for a short time, it was easy to laugh with them over Cass''s poor dancing skills and then when Macaila and I pretended we were waltzing. When a country song pumped through the speakers, we pulled Cass with us as we joined the country line dancers.


    I had started off the evening feeling fatigued and like I had just gotten ran over by a train. By the time we stumbled out of Coyote Rose when they kicked everyone out, I felt alive, as if an electrical current was shooting through my arteries. From the light in Macaila''s and Cass''s eyes, I knew they were feeling something similar. To go home now, to end the evening preparing for bed... it seemed anti-climactic. Not yet. The streets were still filled with pedestrians as the bars were letting out. Lines to food trucks formed. There was lighting illuminating the painted streets and buildings. "There''s an ice cream parlor just around the corner that''s open late. Want to go?" Macaila suggested.


    "Hmmm, ice cream." I almost salivated over the thought. I wasn''t even sure when the last time I had ice cream was. "Absolutely! Yes!"


    Macaila threw her arm around my shoulders. "I knew I would like you! You have a sweet tooth just like me!" she exclaimed. "Cass here can be a sour puss sometimes and doesn''t like to join me in my sugar-rushes."


    "I just prefer savory food," Cass defended with a bemused shrug.


    "Fuck a duck, Cass," Macaila laughed.


    True to Macaila''s word, the ice cream parlor''s¡ªthe Milky Way¡ªbright lights were shining against the darkness of early morning. We were not the only ones venturing out for a sugar binge. There was a small line at the counter and a few tables in front of the shop were occupied. A friendly heavyset man with dark hair was running the show behind the counter and serving everyone their dessert. His cheerfulness was effervescent and followed us as we walked away with our ice cream bowls in between our hands. We found a table just outside of the parlor and sat down. The illuminated clocktower of Ironton Street became a focal point for my eyes. The clock had a steampunk clockwork feeling about it.


    We dug into our respective ice creams. I got a strawberry shortcake one; Macaila chose a chocolate ice cream with peanut butter mixed into it; and Cassiah opted for a blueberry sorbet.


    "I haven''t had a night like this one for a long time," I opened the conversation once we were seated at a table on the parlor''s patio. Summer still displayed its full strength. It was three o''clock in the morning and the temperature was pleasant. A small breeze drifted past us every so often. It played with the tendrils of my hair.


    "What, a fun one?" Macaila inquired. I nodded around a mouth full of ice cream. "Well, you''ve been hanging out with boring soldiers who only care about sex and their next dose of Ambrosia. Of course you haven''t."


    I bit my bottom lip against the surge of regret boiling in my stomach. The massacre was never far from my mind. I couldn''t tell them about the hundred four lives I had taken. I had only known Macaila and Cass for a couple of hours and was told to befriend them. The task was one I actually wanted to do. If I was being honest with myself, I wanted to be friends with them. If they knew about the massacre, they wouldn''t want to be friends.


    "Where did you learn how to dance like that, anyway?" Macaila asked.


    I released the breath I had been holding. "Dancing is a passion of mine," I answered. "I was rusty tonight."


    "You had more than half of the club staring at you towards the end. I think you''re fine." Cass nodded in agreement.


    "What about you two? Any hobbies?"


    "Computers." Cassiah remained nonchalant about it, but I suspected there was more to it than his broad categorization.


    "He¡¯s lives in the library," Macaila teased as she bumped her shoulder against his.


    Cassiah lips formed a soft smile. "Well, it¡¯s the only place I can go without feeling like I will be thrown out in minutes."


    I blinked, wondering if Cassiah¡¯s statement was related to classism.


    "I like to experiment with potions," Macaila answered, twirling her spoon around. "I''m not that good at it."


    Cassiah nudged her. "That''s total bull, and you know it." Cassiah looked at me. "Her potions are rather advanced. She once made one that blew a crater through one of the Academia''s walls."


    Macaila slouched as she glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. No one even batted an eye; they all remained focused on their own conversations. "Shh," she hushed Cassiah, her eyes wide. She whacked his shoulder with her spoon.


    "She hasn''t been caught for it," Cassiah whispered conspiringly to me.


    "I was testing out the potion," Macaila explained. "It was only supposed to make a small depression in the ground and generate a lot of smoke. It was meant to be distraction tool. I guess I put a little too much chimera powder in it. We were lucky enough to run away before anyone saw us at the scene, or Winters would have definitely expelled us."


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    "I thought it was pretty cool," Cassiah said.


    I nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "What other potions have you made?"


    Macaila shrugged, at once becoming bashful. "I experiment with a variety of stuff: remedies, charms, beauty, cooking, personal defense, luck stuff. I got into it because it''s the only way I can compete with the mages who have affinities."


    "You guys don''t have affinities?" I inquired.


    Macaila shook her head. "Not anymore." I sent her a questioning look. "I had mine for three years before it just suddenly vanished. Aerie."


    "I didn''t know I was mage until a couple of days ago."


    "You didn''t?"


    "You didn''t have any episodes of your magic just exploding on you?" Macaila questioned.


    "Yes, but I didn''t know that what I was doing could be classified as magic," I answered with a pitiful shrug. "I grew up believing magic was imaginary. Something you''d only see in movies and books."


    Macaila clutched the edge of the table with her hands and leaned forward. The intensity in her eyes was potent as she stared at me. "You''re saying you grew up completely mortal? Without any indication whatsoever that you may be a mage?"


    I pushed a piece of hair away. "That exactly. I was planning on becoming a doctor. Made it to sophomore year in college. Was about to marry my college sweetheart and make him little babies, too."


    "Who were your parents?" Macaila questioned. Her tone was so incredulous that I had to hide a small smile. At once, I felt an instant relief in my gut. It had been one of the best nights I¡¯d had for some time. There were the preliminary feelings of a bond being formed between us. They had accepted me. I had been friendless for years, and I wanted to see if friendships could develop between myself and the two, regardless of whether I had been assigned to do it in the first place. Even though briefing them on my past was necessary to develop the friendship further, I was still afraid. I didn''t know if the Resistance had briefed them on me, on the massacre that lurked in the shadows of the past. I was afraid that they would start throwing out accusations and judgment like Kyrian had and make me feel worse than I already did. Yet, their emotion was genuine. They seemed to be oblivious to that dark part of my past.


    "My mom died when I was eight and she never told me who my dad was."


    "Was she a mage?"


    "She was, though she didn''t tell me anything." I noticed that an older man sitting at an adjacent table had stopped conversing with his female companion. His movements eating his dessert became robotic. His spine was ultra-straight and his stare at the tabletop was too intense. Swallowing, I lifted my voice to a higher octave to present myself as senseless. "I don''t know, though. I''ve been here for only three days. There''s still so much for me to learn. I feel completely overwhelmed. I''m probably going to be the oldest student ever at the Academia." I laughed self-deprecatingly. Catching the change in my tone, Macaila''s eyes narrowed. With a flick of my own, I sent Cassiah''s and her gazes over to where the man was listening. Her eyes widened with recognition, and she was prompted into movement. She pulled out a pen and scrap piece of paper.


    "I''m twenty-three," Macaila argued as she scribbled something on the paper.


    "We''re the same age then." Macaila pushed the paper towards me.


    That''s the military''s spymaster. Commander Rixsyn.


    "When were you born?" I questioned, surprised. I swallowed and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He had a strongly shaped and clean-shaven jawbone that only added to the severity of his face. His eyebrows had been allowed to run rampant. If I looked closely, I could see the hints of concealed weapons pressing out from underneath his clothing. His female companion was petite with a small button nose. She looked miserable sitting across from him, and I wondered if their ''evening out'' was just a facade so that the commander could shadow me. Sebastien probably put him up to it. I felt a flare of anger within me; this shadow was inhibiting my freedom. Yet, after the past three nights, I couldn''t blame Sebastien for the tail.


    "October 11, 1995.¡± Macaila worked with me to keep the illusion alive. "Cass''s is in January. I blame the stars for why he''s so quiet and reserved all the time!" Teasingly, Macaila shoulder-bumped Cassiah.


    "You said that you used to have magic," I recalled. "What happened?"


    "My magic manifested when I was six. I levitated the entire house when I was having a tantrum. My parents took me to the evaluators soon after, and I demonstrated an affinity for aerie. They celebrated, and I was sent to the Academia under the aerie program. I was treated like a prodigy for being so young." A one-shoulder shrug accompanied her sigh. "That lasted for three years until it just disappeared. Suddenly. I just woke up and none of my spells were working. I couldn''t feel my magic in me anymore.


    "I underwent a lot of testing¡ªas much as my parents could afford¡ªand they still couldn''t determine what had caused the disappearance. I wasn''t the only aerie to lose her powers, either. I was out of school for a couple of months until the government stepped in and mandated my parents to enroll me in the Academia under the Nullus Program. I''ve been at the Academia ever since, trying to learn enough to take my exams and get the hell out of that pompous hellhole. Can you believe Magical Theory class is still mandated under the program even though all of us will never have any practical lessons on it? It''s ridiculous. It''s like they want to rub our noses in the fact that none of us have access to our magic, despite being mage-born." Macaila was swirling her spoon around in her bowl, mixing the liquid form of her melted ice cream with the leftover peanut butter chunks. Although her voice was light, she couldn''t control the deep frown her mouth presented. She missed her magic; she missed the prodigy status.


    "It''s that bad?" I inquired.


    "There''s certainly a divide between the students who have affinities and the students who don''t."


    Cassiah tapped his spoon against the table. "That''s why we were surprised you came up to us tonight. People like you ignore us, or act like we are so far beneath them that we don''t matter."


    "I came up to you because you guys actually seem like you have personalities," I asserted with a frown. I was dissatisfied by the division amongst the mages. My eyes drifted to the left, where I could see an erion broadcasting inside of the ice cream parlor. The channel was on one that I recognized as a British national news broadcast.


    "Ha, she knew you were fiery the moment she saw you, Macaila!" Cassiah teased.


    "Well, that''s a good thing, isn''t it? Because without me, she would have never seen you," Macaila shot back.


    My vision sharpened when I saw what was being broadcasted. My heart plummeted to the bottom reaches of my ribcage as my jovial expression melted from my face. A horrified one took its place.


    For standing right in the middle of Alexanderplatz Square in Berlin, with the Berliner Fernsehturm in the background, was a woman. A blurry closeup of her face revealed a distant gaze, almost as if her soul had vacated her body. Her arms remained at her sides, while her mouth was a narrow line across her face. However, there was no doubt she caused had the destruction surrounding her. Gigantic ravines had ruptured the concrete around her. The tracks for the public railway had been bent and torn apart, sending a train tumbling over onto its side. The art fixture that showed the different time zones across the world had been ripped in half by a ravine. Parts of buildings were missing. Sections of them were crumbling into dust, as if a giant had taken a massive bite out of their sides. As people ran away in terror, trying to avoid being consumed by the earth itself, the woman just stood there. The ravines radiated away from her. Ashes were falling from the sky.


    I didn''t even need the mugshot that they posted to the right side of the screen to know that the woman was me. Somehow, I found myself standing in front of the muted erion inside of the ice cream parlor. I didn''t remember standing up and leaving Macaila and Cassiah behind. With dread, I stared at the erion. The broadcast was now showing a camera panning over Berlin¡¯s battered landscape. The Reichstag¡¯s dome was cracked in several places. The Berlin Cathedral was now just a pile of dust, while four of the columns to the Brandenburg Gate had collapsed. Large sections of the already dilapidated Berlin Wall had simply crumbled. The wide view caught the curtain of ashes falling from the sky.


    I didn¡¯t need the broadcast to tell me when the terrorist attack had occurred: I already knew in my bones when it had. I recognized the clothes I was wearing. They were the same ones I had just changed out of this evening after Jay had awakened me. The attack had taken place in the space of time I didn¡¯t have any recollection of, in between Leander¡¯s lesson and when I woke up. Upon awakening, I had felt like I had been buried underneath one of those collapsed buildings. When I had taken my shower, my fingers had been smeared with black stains after shampooing my hair. I had ashes in my hair. My clothes had dust from the demolished buildings.


    My spine tingled from the eeriness of it all. I had lost my memory at the Union Station attack as well. I had performed impressive feats of magic at both, and yet, could not even make that die spin on one of its points in Leander''s gymnasium.


    "She¡¯s still at large, believed to be in Germany presently." I read the closed captions on the erion. "Law enforcement is asking for everyone to maintain their distance if Briara Disraeli is seen, and to call 999 immediately. They warn Disraeli is dangerous and armed with unknown weapons."


    "What is it? Are you okay?" Macaila questioned behind me, her voice soft and hesitant. I jumped, unaware that she and Cass had followed me into the parlor.


    The look in my gaze had to be wild and frantic. Neither Macaila nor Cass took a step back from me.


    I killed people again.


    I felt my mouth move, though no words escaped me. It was so dry. My salvia had evaporated. I looked at Macaila and Cassiah, who both had concern written across their expressions, to Commander Rixsyn, who was staring at me through the windows as though he was waiting to see what I would do next. The pressure became too much. The fear of how many lives I had taken yesterday haunted me. Shame wrapped me in its suffocating embrace. "I have to go," I mumbled. Too ashamed, I couldn¡¯t even bring myself to look at their faces one last time. I spun on my feet and rushed out of the parlor. The chimes hanging on the door mocked me.

 TWENTY-NINE

    Insanity pulsed on the edges of my mind. It became a cunning invader seeking any weakness in the iron wall I had built around my mind. My focus deteriorated to one thought, one desire: to find a solution. To find retribution. To prevent this from ever happening again. It helped to push myself towards that destination I had locked in my mind; it distracted me from the insanity. I knew that if I allowed those feelings in, I would curl up into a ball on the street. I would be senseless enough to start self-punishing by slamming my head against the cobblestone. With no one else loitering in the arrondissements closest to the castle, I had a good chance of caving my skull in. Survival instincts kicked in, and I pushed myself harder. I forced my body to go faster.


    My breaths were gasps; it seemed as if I could never get enough oxygen inside of me. My blood rushed through my body quickly enough that my skin heated to an uncomfortable temperature. I developed tunnel vision as I raced through the streets and over the bridges connecting the different rings of the city. The incline to the top ceased to matter, like the steps on the bridges. I was faintly aware of the tinges of pain in my knees, the burning in my calves, and the stitch in my side. When I rushed through the gates and passed the on-duty soldiers guarding the castle''s entry gates, I didn¡¯t spare them a second glance. I raced through the courtyard and then hurled through the castle''s entrance. It was all I could do to keep the insanity at bay.


    My feet carried me to Sebastien''s office. His office doors were shut in the shadowy hallway in the early morning hours, and I was certain Sebastien wasn''t in his office. It was too early; any sane person would be in his bed right now. Regardless, I banged on his office door, frantic and desperate. It was the only thing I could think of doing, and if Sebastien didn''t keep early office hours, I would continue to slam my fist into his door until he arrived. It didn''t matter: I would break every bone in my hand if it took that long. I would not move until I spoke to him. I couldn''t return to my apartment alone. I couldn''t be alone with my distress and demons.


    I didn''t have to go to those extremes. The door opened just as my fist descended an eleventh time. The sudden lack of surface to catch my forceful strike threw me off balance and I swayed forward on my toes until I could find equilibrium again. My arm hung awkwardly at my side. My knees buckled, and through some willpower, I remained upright. Perplexed, Sebastien stood in front of me, holding the door open. He was dressed in gray slacks and a pressed shirt. His tidy appearance made me feel more deranged. Before he could inquire why I was at his door at such an odd hour, I interrupted him. "I want you to place a rasa stone in me again," I blurted out in a single breath. "I want you to restrict my magic."


    Sebastien''s mouth opened and then shut again after he reconsidered what he was going to say. Whatever he saw on my face was enough to convince him. He glanced over his shoulder. "Come in, Briara.¡±


    The invitation was all I needed. I was too blinded by my fear to wait for him to move fully out of the way, and I squeezed in between Sebastien and the doorframe. Sebastien turned to face the wall. An erion was against it. The upper portion of a man could be seen in the frame. With his tanned complexion and darker hair, he looked to be of Hispanic origin. He looked somewhat familiar. Two red, white, and blue flags, each hosting a single star, were posted behind him. It was daytime wherever he was, and light was pouring through the windows behind him. The entire erion was a picture of brightness compared to the darkness in Sebastien''s office. The moon was only just descending into Astraera''s horizon, while colors started to remove the night sky¡¯s darkness. Did Sebastien get up early to have a meeting with this man? I wondered. I stood behind Sebastien awkwardly. "Rafael, I hate to do this to you, but I have to end this meeting a bit early. I''ll have Milo coordinate our next one."


    Rafael was squinting into his camera. "Sebastien, is that the girl everyone is trying to find?"


    "Goodbye, Rafael." Sebastien lazily waved a hand in front of the erion. It disappeared and Sebastien turned around with a sigh. "I can''t say I''m not appreciative that you interrupted my meeting," he said. "It was getting tedious trying to explain everything to him for a ninth time. It was like he was drunk or something."


    His words just floated over me. Meaningless, they could not penetrate the pool of madness surrounding me. "I need you to help me," I pleaded. I was still out of breath, and my voice came out in a croak. A strange tingling danced on my arms; beyond that, I was numb. It took an enormous amount of effort to keep my emotion in check.


    "You said something about restricting your power and installing a rasa stone in you again?" The frown on his face became deeper. I waited for him to say the words that I desired to hear: that he could have the procedure done immediately, that he thought it was best. "Briara, you just started your lessons with Leander a couple of days ago. Isn''t this request a bit premature?" he inquired.


    "It happened again." My shame kept my volume at a whisper. I couldn''t believe I was standing here before the mage chancellor and admitting this. His judgment was going to ruin me; I had destroyed any belief he had in me. I found it difficult to breathe. I brought my arms up so that my forearms could cover my face. My fingers dug into my hair, which was already disheveled from the night''s activity. The evening that I didn''t even deserve. I deserved to be in a jail cell, awaiting execution. I should have turned myself in, like Kyrian had suggested. I should have remained out there and slammed my head against the ground. I should have...


    "What happened?" Sebastien''s tone was cautious. He didn''t even try to approach to comfort me.


    I took a deep inhale before I screeched, "I hurt people again." My entire body was shaking. I dug my fingers deeper into my hair and pressed down against my skull. My screeching didn''t stop there. "There was another attack in Berlin. I killed people again! I don''t know how I got to Berlin in the first place, and I remember nothing. I just remember not being able to produce a spark of magic in Professor Leander''s classroom, and then I just went out there and released a level five earthquake in Berlin! I need help. Someone needs to put me in a cage and never let me out again. I need the rasa stone inside of me again. I don''t want to keep hurting people! I want it all to STOP! I can''t take this anymore! I don''t want the magic if all I''m going to do is hurt people!"


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Sebastien''s firm hand landed on my forearm. "Come." His grip didn''t accept any refusal except to follow him to a chair. "Sit." His hand pressed down against my shoulder. I felt my knees buckle underneath the pressure. Sebastien kept his hand clamped down on my shoulder. Fearfully, I stared up at him through my splayed fingers. He stared down at me with an expressionless mien. I waited for the execution blow. As the seconds flew past, I realized Sebastien would not do what I desired. A synthetic calmness was flowing into me from his palm. My breathing became more regular. My shoulders and back relaxed further into the chair. My lips stopped trembling. That synthetic calmness annihilated the brewing panic storm and the pressing insanity.


    When I felt emotionally numb, Sebastien released my shoulder. He dragged another chair closer to sit down across from me. I waited for him to initiate the conversation. "I was hoping you wouldn''t find out about the Berlin Massacre, as the media has taken to calling it," Sebastian sighed. Dumbfounded, I stared at him. "Yes, I know about it," he said. "I heard about it hours after it happened."


    "And you didn¡¯t think to lock me up immediately afterwards?" I couldn¡¯t help the accusing notes in my voice. It was kept at an even volume due to the synthetic serenity flowing through my veins.


    Sebastien steepled his hands and set his head on their foundation. His big ruby ring glistened like wet blood in the darkness. The solemnness reflected in his gaze frightened me. "Tell me two things, Briara,¡± he requested. "One, do you remember anything from the Berlin Massacre, and two, what good will it be doing for you if we did place a rasa stone in you or lock you up again?"


    "No, I don''t remember anything." I murmured. "That¡¯s why I¡¯m so scared right now."


    "What are you afraid of?"


    My hands wrapped around each other in my lap. "I''m afraid of blacking out again and doing it over and over again. I can''t take the humiliation of it, Sebastien. I can''t carry all this remorse," I half-sobbed. "I should be locked up again. Someone should chop off my head before I can do it again."


    "We are not fans of the guillotine here," Sebastien attempted to joke. When I didn''t laugh, he said, "I really don''t want you to give up."


    "Those people lost their lives because of me." I felt like I should be shrieking. The synthetic serenity prevented that. "If I hadn''t seen the news broadcast in the ice cream parlor tonight, I wouldn''t have even known about Berlin."


    "Ice cream parlor?"


    "Macaila and Cassiah took me there tonight," I sighed.


    Sebastien looked impressed. "When I assigned you to befriend them, I didn''t think it would happen this quickly."


    "We''ll see if they want to be friends after tonight. They may have seen the footage, too. They were behind me, and Macaila followed me inside. You should just hand me back to the mortals so that they can lock me up again pending my electrocution and I don''t have to hurt anyone else." I slumped in my seat. My gaze drifted back down to my shoes. I felt Sebastien''s gaze on my face, searching. When he said nothing, I added, "I feel like I''m going insane. I feel incompetent, and that at this age, I should have absolute control over my abilities. Instead, I''ve just turned into a machine. What does that say about me? When my abilities overwhelm me to the point that I''m no longer in control of myself? That my instincts are immediately geared towards violence?"


    "We haven''t had a mage who waited so long to train in her magic before," Sebastien replied. He leaned over his knees to decrease the distance between us. "I wish I could say that what you''re going through is common, but honestly, there is not a precedent for this. We don''t know what happens in your situation. The rasa is extremely taboo, and quite honestly, I am a huge proponent of solving the problem correctly, and not smothering duct tape over it. I know you are deathly afraid of killing more people, and if you weren''t, then I would be reconsidering whether you should be training. I don''t want you to give up just yet. Professor Leander is an expert, a master at what he does. I want you to believe in him as much as I want you to believe in yourself. You see him this afternoon, right?"


    I nodded. My apprehension made me mute.


    Sebastien''s eyes flicked to his watch to check the time. "You''ve been out all night and you have a lesson this morning?"


    "We lost track of time," I muttered with a half shrug. It was the truth. I had enjoyed Cass and Macaila''s company so much that I didn''t want to do the responsible thing and return to the castle at a respectable hour. That pit in my stomach fluttered. After they saw what I had done yesterday, I was doubtful they wanted to be friends. After all, they were children of rumored Resistance members; they were against oppression.


    "I can''t say I condone that, but I understand." Sebastien paused. "I want you to give Professor Leander another shot. I believe you could be an asset to this entire universe once you have control of your power. You can aid those in need. If you want to view it as retribution for all those times your power annihilated, so be it. Though you are doing yourself a disservice if you give up," Sebastien lectured sternly. I nodded; it seemed as if I couldn''t do anything else. "You have a good heart in you, Briara. You want to know how I know that after only knowing you for a couple of days? You feel remorse for something you can''t even be proven to have the mens reas for. I know what those idiotic mortals did and how a jury of twelve convicted you, although you were never in the right state of mind during the first massacre. Even after all that, you''re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. We''ll get through this together. I''ll be at your side through it all." Sebastien spoke with so much conviction that I believed him. He patted my knee. "You should go and get as much sleep as you can before your lesson," Sebastien suggested.


    As I was standing up and departing from his office, suddenly fatigued, Sebastien called my name. I paused and looked over my shoulder. His eyes were dark, and I could barely see the whites of his eyes from across the room. "The element you used in the Berlin Massacre was mica. I would suggest you focus on that during your lesson this afternoon."


    I gave him one last nod before disappearing to catch a nap before the Magical Theory class.

 THIRTY

    I stayed in bed as long as I could before lingering any longer would make me late. I woke up by no means refreshed and felt like a zombie as I journeyed to the Academia and then took the steps to Leander''s classroom. Sebastien''s calming magic continued to keep my demons at bay, and it was easier to think more rationally in the light of day than it had been earlier.


    The professor had his students meeting in the gymnasium. They were huddled together on one side while the professor was speaking to a group of twelve students on the other side. As I walked to join the group of students, I felt a flare of embarrassment. Those at the front of the huddle were neat and put-together. A girl''s eyeshadow looked professional, and despite it being mid-morning, none of it looked out of place. Another girl''s hair had been groomed into a ponytail; her male companion had his slicked back and parted. Their uniforms were ironed with clean, crisp lines in the pant legs. It was obvious that I had just rolled out of bed.


    I shuffled to the group and was prepared to stand on the edge of it when I heard a female voice call out my name. Looking up in shock, I saw Macaila and Cassiah standing in the back. When Macaila saw she had my attention, she waved me over. Amazed that they even wanted me to stand with them, I hurried around the edge of the mass.


    Tossing her fizzy hair behind her shoulder (I guess Macaila valued her sleep more than her appearance, too), Macaila hissed, "I didn''t know you were going to be here today."


    "Leander asked me to come. He thinks it will be beneficial,¡± I said.


    "What happened last night? You just ran out of there without even saying goodbye."


    "You looked like a ghost," Cassiah contributed.


    I released a breath, and my body seemed to relax from the tension it had been holding all morning. Neither Macaila nor Cassiah knew about the massacres. They were still blissfully oblivious to my issues. "I just felt a flare of my magic watching the mortal broadcast. I didn''t know what it was, and I was frightened I would hurt everyone around me," I lied smoothly.


    "That''s good if you are recognizing your magic within you!" Macaila had an encouraging note in her voice.


    "If you blew up the Milky Way last night, it wouldn''t have been that bad, considering the people in it," Cassiah piped in. Between the three of us, he looked refreshed and like he had gotten a full night''s rest. Not that it did anything to assist his shaggy appearance, which seemed natural.


    I winced while Macaila smacked his shoulder. "Cassiah!" she admonished.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the group Leander had been talking to disperse. In threes, they walked to the different corners of the gymnasium. Their destinations were the four different circles painted onto the floor. Leander took his position at the front of our assembled mass. Before he started his opening lecture, Macaila murmured, "What''s with you and blowing things up?"


    "Welcome." Professor Leander''s booming voice exploded throughout the gymnasium. The drone of side conversations faded. A slight smile appeared on the professor''s face as his eyes roamed through the crowd of students, no doubt taking a mental attendance. When his gaze landed on me, he gave me a small nod of acknowledgment before continuing his assessment. "It seems as if we have everyone here. Good, we can get started on time.


    "As you all can see, I have invited some of the advanced students from my conjurations class to participate in today''s demonstration. Please give them your undivided attention today. They have taken time out of their own studies to assist me," Leander requested. A couple of the students shifted on their feet and fidgeted. Leander connected his hands behind his back and paced back and forth in front of the group. "As we reviewed last class, the manipulation of magic is purely mental. However, most students start out with both verbal incantations and gestures to do those manipulations. It helps focus their minds and intentions. Who can tell me what the second level of manipulation is?" Leander stopped his pacing and faced the rest of the class, waiting with an arched eyebrow.


    A single arm rose in the air. Leander nodded at one girl in the front row. "Gestures only, sir," she answered.


    "Correct. And the last level?"


    "Just a simple thought or intention," another student piped up.


    Leander looked pleased that his students had remembered his previous lecture. "Absolutely. Now, there are four elements, or affinities, mages are blessed with. Although the theories about how we use those affinities are similar, there are some obvious key differences. For example, say you were having a lazy Sunday and didn''t want to get up to get a glass of water. The aeries could simply use telekinesis to achieve this task, while the halies simply have to create it. In the demonstrations today, I want you to observe each of the affinities. Note the similarities and note the differences in how they complete different tasks. You will be expected to write a report on the topic, which will be due next Wednesday."


    The professor stepped back and directed our attention to the demonstrations. The first up was aerie, and the students standing on the symbol with the upright triangle with a single horizontal line through it rose to the occasion as they manipulated their element. I became lost in my amazement as I watched them levitate themselves and objects, create miniature windstorms, and affect the amount of air in the gymnasium. The students with the pyra affinity were gifted with pyrokinesis. They created and quashed fires in Leander''s gymnasium. They made us sweat when they gradually increased the temperature in the room. They melted a copy of the die Leander had me practice with in my last lesson. Those with the hali affinity created a contained tsunami for our entertainment. When the students with the mica affinities took the spotlight, I observed them. Their disappointing demonstration included them just creating a sculpture out of a large boulder, using only their minds. The one with the highest level of magic¡ªa female with long red hair¡ªseemed to be unable to create ravines.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Leander had also given them all the same objective to complete: create light. He had dimmed the lighting in the gymnasium. For the pyra affinities, this was as simple as creating a contained flame. The firelight flickered off the walls like it was a campfire. The micas created prisms out of diamonds, found the faintest hint of light coming through a crack in one of the window coverings, and used it to their advantage. The halies created water droplets that had the same effect as the mica diamonds. It were the aeries that I was the most impressed by: they bent mere molecules to their will and created a vertical beam of pure, bright light.


    The four demonstrations contained similiarities. The demonstrators started off with the level one technique. Their voices rang confidently throughout the gymnasium as they shouted the incantations while their arms gestured violently. It became eerily quiet as each group progressed onto level two, where only their arms moved, their voices silent. Then the gestures went away. Only two of the demonstrators¡ªone with an aerie affinity and the other with a hali affinity¡ªhad mastered level three. No one had reached level four. The differences were more numerous, however. Each affinity hosted its own incantation and gestures for the different objectives. It was clear that although they could achieve the same objective, it was done in a completely different way.


    Remembering I had created earthquakes in Berlin only a few days ago, I tried to connect with the mica students. I tried to imagine belonging to the aerie affinity, as that had been my mother''s. However, I was disappointed with their demonstrations and didn''t feel like I belonged with any of them.


    I completely forgot about studying their technique to learn how they did it. When the demonstrations were over, and Professor Leander was back to lecturing before his class ended, I glanced over at Cassiah. He had taken notes during the demonstration, perhaps to help him with his report. I suddenly felt disappointed in myself. I should have had the same dedication to my learning, and not have allowed myself to be distracted by the magical displays. Feeling apprehensive about going into my private lesson with Leander, I hoped he wouldn''t expect me to mimic the gestures and incantations I had just seen.


    The class ended too soon. Leander''s students rushed towards the gymnasium''s exit. Macaila and Cass hung back. "What are you doing tonight?" Macaila asked me.


    "I don''t know yet," I admitted.


    "There''s a cool place in the eleventh," Macaila explained. "It''s just basically a hangout place. They have ping-pong, foosball, and some arcade games. Would you like to go with us?" Macaila shifted on her feet, looking uncomfortable with extending the invitation. I got the sense that this was something she rarely did.


    I agreed to it, relieved that I didn''t have to go to Hellions and Halos again as if I was Jay''s little sidekick. Macaila filled me in on the details of our meetup before Leander approached us. "Ms. Amherst and Mr. Hawthorne, you should be heading to your next class or you''re going to be late," he advised calmly. My two new friends murmured their assent before hurrying off with their heads low and pace quick. Leander waited until they had disappeared through the pass-through door back into his classroom before saying, "Well, what are your thoughts, Briara?"


    "It was exciting to watch," I said honestly.


    "Did you feel any type of connection to one of the affinities?"


    "I tried, but no." I grimaced.


    "It''s fine," Leander assured. "The chancellor wanted us to focus on mica today. Although what happened in Berlin was a tragedy, it may have allowed us to identify your affinity." I knew he was talking about the earthquakes and chasms I had caused in Berlin.


    I tried to ignore the feelings of remorse to focus on Leander''s lesson. Leander and I returned to his classroom, where in a far corner, he had prepared a table precisely for the day''s lesson. On the table, there were flowerpots filled with plants and flowers. Bowls were filled to the brim with dirt. A couple of different rocks were scattered around the pots and bowls. I recognized igneous and sedimentary rocks as part of the collection. A vial of salt was laid out on the table, along with other types of minerals I didn''t quite recognize. Confused with the variety of items cluttering the tabletop, I glanced at Leander, waiting for answers.


    "Mica is a broad affinity to have," he explained. "Most mages with the mica affinity narrow their focus to one subset of it. Some have the green thumb and can cultivate plants. Others are more connected to the minerals and rocks. Since we are focusing on mica today, I wanted to give you the opportunity to see if one subset calls out to you and inspires your affinity into action."


    It sounded reasonable. I set my focus on the objects scattered on the table. I was determined to do something. Sebastien had inspired me that much.


    My first attempts were with the rocks, logically concluding that I had shattered the ground in half only a couple of days ago. With Leander coaching me from the side, I followed his instructions and learned a couple of incantations. I tried to break off a pebble from the sedimentary rock. Not even a tiny fissure formed on its surface, despite the number of times I repeated the verbal spell and made the appropriate gestures. Leander stopped me and redirected my attention to the plants when he saw my frustration escalating. I switched gears reluctantly, unconvinced that I would be able to manipulate the plant in any way. Leander sat a pot of dirt in front of me and informed me that a seedling was just underneath the dirt. Using the incantation and gesture combination he gave me, I attempted to bring the seedling to the surface.


    I failed at that task, too.


    There was not even a trace of magic in me as I attempted to do the exercises. I faintly remembered the fullness in my gut when I forced the officers and demons backward in the hallway during my escape from the jail. I sought that exact feeling out that afternoon in Leander''s classroom. It remained dormant in whatever hole it was lurking in.


    I ended the afternoon without a single display of magic and Leander guiding me to his meditation room. Once more, my eyes landed on the amethyst stone, and I felt all the tension that had been accumulating in my body disappear. My fear of another massacre was sedated. This place was one where I could breathe.

 THIRTY-ONE

    During my first couple of days in Astraera, it had seemed like I was only a passing visitor, and the castle and its sprawling city would never be my home. Too many stares and halted conversations had occurred when I wandered the castle halls. This changed as more time trickled by, as September flowed into October, and then it suddenly was November. My face became a common one to be seen around the castle and Academia, and soon, no one stared as I walked past. Some even waved and produced a greeting. Somehow, I had landed exactly where I needed to be.


    My life kept some of the structure it had while I was incarcerated. For those three days a week I had my magic lessons with Professor Leander, I attempted to be focused and strived for excellency. He had me studying mica for three weeks, until even he had to express confusion and failure over the lack of sparks in his classroom. From mica, we progressed onto aerie. Where mica had plants and rocks, Leander had cleared the entire workstation for a single red-tail hawk feather that I was supposed to levitate. It was a complete joke, and I found I had difficulties focusing. My mind was scattered during those lessons, as half of it was wondering about the sanctuary and Hawk. Leander had to often remind me of the incantations and gestures for the aerie spells. The lessons for hali and pyra progressed in the same pathetic way.


    There had been flickers of my magic that showed up here and there in my lessons with Leander. Yet, it was like a weak flame that was easily blown out, and it didn''t reveal itself often. Yes, the first time I could make that damn die move by a slight tremble in the earth had been exciting, and I had jumped around Leander''s gymnasium like I was a little girl again, my squeals echoing in the gym. I could never make any progress after it. Leander had me explain what it felt like to just produce that little shimmer of magic. He wanted me to write a report about it as well, though I never got around to it. His technique failed, and I spent weeks in between magical displays. A part of me wondered if the repeated failures were sabotaging my progress. Even though Leander always had me meditate in front of the amethyst after my lesson, a seed of doubt had taken root in my mind. That seed of doubt was impossible to dislodge. A part of me wondered if Galileo would have been a better instructor. After all, he had melded me into a decent spy. I never voiced that wonder to anyone.


    Leander had me focusing on the same disciplined activity every lesson. I expected him to change the lesson since it was obviously so unsuccessful. He didn''t, until one day, my emotions had boiled to the point that it forced some of the magic I had thus accumulated in my well to explode and destroy. It shattered the glass in his classroom doors; blasted holes in the ceiling while damaging the overhead lights and causing a blackout. The door into the gymnasium was yanked off its hinges. (When I told Cassiah and Macaila about what had happened, they stated they had wondered why Leander''s classroom was in disarray. Macaila claimed it made the classroom more pleasingly rustic.)


    Apparently, I had more magic to dispel that day. Somehow. The morning after, I woke up to feeling fatigued, weakened, and still in my clothes from the day before. None of my neurons hosted any memory of the previous afternoon. A pit of dread removed any appetite I had when I recognized that exhaustion. It was soon after that I witnessed myself destroy London on television. Like some possessed demon, I hovered yards off the ground. However, instead of destroying London with earthquakes, I used its most feared element against the city. Fire ravaged the city. London Bridge, Tower Bridge, St. Paul''s Cathedral, Big Ben, and Buckingham Palace were destroyed by my wildfire. The death count for that massacre rested at four-hundred-fifty-seven poor souls.


    Once again, I begged for Sebastien to turn me over to the mortals or at least restrict my powers. I became fearful that it would explode once more when my body could no longer contain it. I approached Sebastien about my fears and was inches away from requesting the insertion of the rasa once more, when he surprised me and said, "I was actually thinking about this issue recently."


    "You were?" I perked up.


    Sebastien was examining the paperwork on his desk. From where I was sitting, it appeared to be accounting ledgers. "It''s obvious that there is some kind of block on your magic."


    "What do you think it is?" I wondered.


    "You still haven''t accessed the sanctuary since you''ve been here?" he questioned.


    "No."


    "How much do you know about sanctuaries?"


    I shrugged. "Not that much. Most of it was self-taught." Most of it was Hawk who trained me, I thought.


    Sebastien stopped shuffling his paperwork around and let it sit in a neat stack on his desk. The chancellor leaned back in his seat and settled his hands into his lap. "The sanctuaries are untapped alternate universes, for a lack of any other explanation. It''s a power that the mages haven''t seen for a very long time, and the last person to have been known to have it was Zane Konstantinos, as we discussed previously. However, several mages with access to these sanctuaries went insane. They would create perfect little worlds for themselves, and then never wanted to return to the real world. As a result, they would become gods of some imaginary world while their bodies were wasting away into skeletons here. They spent so much of their power fueling these worlds that they never had any left over for reality."


    I frowned, at once understanding what Sebastien to alluding to. He thought I was having issues with my magic now because it was being siphoned away by my sanctuary. "That is not what is happening with me."


    "How do you know?" Sebastien challenged.


    I bit my lip. I had to admit that I didn''t know.


    Sebastien posed another question. "In your experience, have you ever come across a praesidium in the sanctuary?" I had to shake my head. I didn''t even know what he was talking about. Sebastien observed the confusion etched on my face, and explained, "Praesidiums are intrinsic to sanctuaries, created by sanctuary magic itself. It''s involuntary from the individual, it just happens. The magic forms to become human-like, or in one case, it was a dog. They become companions to the individual, pretending to serve the companion''s every need and desire. However, the praesidium''s intentions are malevolent. Studies in the past have revealed that the subject can be the very thing siphoning off a mage''s power to keep the sanctuary alive, and thus themselves. In one case, the praesidium attempted to suffocate the individual in the sanctuary and tried to take over the individual''s real life. In a way, the sanctuary''s praesidium becomes a parasite."


    "And the praesidium is there every time the mage ventures to the sanctuary?"


    Sebastien straightened and gave me an intense look. "You were meeting someone there?"


    Suddenly, my neck became too stiff to nod. A clog materialized in my throat. Sebastien''s reaction was unexpected. "He''s been there since the beginning, guiding me."


    "This is not good, Briara," Sebastien declared.


    I took a deep breath. "And if he''s my praesidium?"


    "You''re going to have to destroy him if you have any chance of controlling your power in this world."


    "You''re saying he''s not real."


    "No, he''s not."


    My body reacted to the declaration negatively. I felt my defenses activating. My body tensed and my jaw locked up. I could feel my fingers curling inward to form fists. My legs were prepared to flee or stand up and fight. I couldn''t kill Hawk. He was the only person who had helped me through those four horrible years, who had helped me keep my sanity. My heart ached with just thinking about hurting him. "Briara," Sebastien''s voice yanked me out of my thoughts. I reluctantly met his gaze when the pause went on for too long. He reached across and squeezed my knee. I felt a flare of his synthetic serenity melting into my skin. "I can tell that you formed a relationship with this man in your sanctuary. But I don''t think he''s real. I think he''s something your mind created upon entering the sanctuary. From what you''ve told me, he fits all the components of a praesidium. I know it will be challenging for you. I think once you get past the emotions of it, you¡¯ll realize it''s the only way."


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    "I can''t even access the sanctuary right now to do what you¡¯re asking," I muttered.


    "That''s right. You haven''t been able to access it without the tranquilizers. I''ll see what I can do to find some for you. I want you to have full control of your magic, and I feel like this is something that has to be done," Sebastien advised. "I''ll be there every step of the way."


    I sat back in my chair, still replaying everything that had taken place since that initial venture into the sanctuary. "Hawk said that he was instructed to train me. I thought it could have been you who delegated that task to him."


    Sebastien, frowning, shook his head. "No, I don''t know of any Hawks."


    The synthetic calmness Sebastien gave me helped keep me numb. Even though it had been months since I had been to the sanctuary and seen Hawk, I still didn''t want to terminate that friendship. To do what Sebastien was asking seemed like it was a distinct betrayal to Hawk. Still, if it meant that I could have full control over my magic and could prevent another massacre... it had to be done.


    Conflicted with what I now had to do once Sebastien provided the ketamine, I procrastinated. I sought to distract myself from making that ultimate decision. I relied on my other friendships. Skye had finally written me back from the letter I''d sent her upon my initial arrival in Astraera. It was a simple, brief note, just as mine had been to her. Bria, you need to stay wherever you are. Don''t you come out. Things are getting insane over here.


    By that, she meant the movement Xavier was inspiring. His seemingly small statement during his latest interview was enough to initiate a blaze: In my research, I went into the core of the cell. Whatever this unique element is, it''s in her DNA. It''s a part of her. But it isn''t... human. That statement had impassioned a small number of people. Their mutters about witchcraft spread like wildfire throughout the world. The mutters escalated to yelling, and then from there, to witch hunts. The international gang Xavier had unwittingly created became vigilantes intending to find every single magical being out there and destroy them.


    I had thought Xavier was smart enough to resist being pulled into something as hysterical as this. Yet, one night in November, I saw him being interviewed yet again by the news. I was waiting for Jay to finish getting ready to go out; he started using my bathroom because he despised the communal ones at the barracks. Xavier''s hair had grown longer, if a little disheveled. There was a frantic wildness in his eyes that was barely contained. He had transitioned from his button up shirts to a black leather coat and military-grade cargo pants. Frowning, I eyed him every single time the camera was zoomed in on him. I failed to find any hints of weapons concealed underneath his clothing and breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you saying that now you believe Briara Disraeli is a witch?" the unseen interviewer asked him.


    Xavier nodded before he launched into a passionate rant. "Something to that effect, yes. My team and I have all the proof necessary to prove that these sorcerers walk amongst us. They are a part of our very population. If one girl could annihilate a thousand people in three incidents, then what can the others do? What if they are the reason our crime rates are so elevated right now? What''s to stop them from infiltrating our governments and start trying to rule us? With as much magic as we''ve seen from Briara Disraeli, they can easily make us their slaves. Who''s to say that this mysterious organization that has been attempting to unite our world isn''t just a coalition of sorcerers and witches?"


    "You make some excellent points," the interviewer said. Snorting, I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and stared at the erion screen. "What is your aim now?"


    "Just to be heard. Just to open everyone''s eyes to the potential of that enslaved future. I don''t want humanity to be attacked by some monster we are too blinded to see. We''ve fought off this kind of threat before with the witch hunts in the seventeenth century. We can do it again," Xavier preached.


    I heard Jay before I saw him. One floorboard croaked as he emerged from the master bedroom. "I don''t know what you even saw in that ass," Jay criticized when he saw what I was watching. Looking at him now, I didn''t either. Xavier had been conscious of his appearance, and while he never went overboard like other guys did with checking himself out in the mirror or spending thirty minutes on his hair, he did try to look presentable most of the time. However, it had been his keen intelligence, rather than his appearance, that had ensnared me in the first place. Our mental connection had been intense when we had watched the sunrise on the university hill together the first night we met.


    "Briara Disraeli hasn''t been seen or heard from since the London Massacre. Where do you think she is?" the interviewer asked.


    I watched as Xavier shrugged. "I have no idea. But she''s good at moving around, isn''t she? We''ll get her, I promise you that. She better hope law enforcement gets to her first, or we''ll see if witches truly burn."


    I shifted on my feet as I stared at the erion. "Do you think we should be concerned about him?" I asked Jay.


    Jay snickered. "Absolutely not. I think you should turn that shit off, forget about him, and let''s get going. I''m hungry."


    "You''re always hungry."


    While my days revolved around studying magic, my nights were a juggle between my two new friends, Macaila and Cass, and my old one, Jay. There was a constant pressure to recreate the bond I once had with Jay. Jay was always waiting for me outside of my apartment door, inviting me to dinner at Hellions and Halos. My complaints about always going to Hellions and Halos fell on deaf ears. I had also mentioned that I wanted to spend time with him alone¡ªwithout his peers (and Hellions'' women) around. Despite his unusual dedication to being present in my life, I sensed that Jay''s motives behind his invitations were not honorable. I could never kick the feeling that Jay was attempting to use me for prestige in the mage world. He would never admit this intention, though, and my speculation hovered around my thoughts without any evidence.


    I much preferred the nights I spent with Macaila and Cass. Yes, I had been assigned to use them as tools to infiltrate the Resistance. They were much more than tools: they were my friends. Where the nights with Jay were awkward at the very least, as if both our minds were elsewhere, the nights with my new friends were easygoing and laid back, filled with the constant ramble of conversation and laughter. Such was our bond that when we all met up at Hellions and Halos, we knew that the three of us would disappear to go dancing or play a round of foosball. We spent the late evenings sitting on park benches or at the Milky Way¡¯s tables, talking long into the night. I grew to feel like I could tell them everything and they wouldn¡¯t turn their backs on me. Almost everything. They were still oblivious about the massacres.


    In return, they steadily let me into their lives and revealed more of their personalities. Macaila was the hyper and optimistic one. It became a running joke between the three of us that Macaila''s drug of choice was sugar. If she had even one spoonful of dessert, she would do laps around whatever establishment we were in. Cassiah was always the pensive and grounded one. He preferred to observe first and contribute second. He enjoyed lingering in libraries. They both had plans to disappear into the mortal world once they had graduated from the Academia, and they were eager for the opportunities that would provide. Both deplored the thought of staying in Astraera after they had graduated. Their opportunities were extremely limited, and both had not-so-good things to say about the mage government, especially when it concerned the magic crisis. Still, they were careful about their phrasing, and mentioned nothing about the Resistance or the Gates to the Heavenly Skies. I didn''t think we were at that point for me to press for the information, either.


    The closest we came to talking about the Resistance was when Macaila and I were walking down Ironton Street. I was accompanying her to one of her favorite apothecaries. As usual, my eyes had drifted over to where the Ironton Street Clocktower stood. The For Sale sign remained posted to the building. Frowning, I nodded towards its entrance. "It¡¯s been on the market for a long time; I¡¯m surprised no one has purchased it. It looks like a good piece of real estate."


    Macaila saw where I was looking and then released a sigh. "No one will buy it."


    My head tilted. "Why?"


    "The previous owner was Carina Ironton," Macaila informed in a monotone. Perplexed, I waited for her to continue. "She was one of nine traitors the government hunted down and hung last February. Her family was one of the rich ones, if you couldn¡¯t tell by the street name. They were at least philanthropic towards the arts. Carina Ironton¡¯s ancestors vouched for the artists of their time to have their own area of the city, and that¡¯s how Ironton Street was created. There are many people in this neighborhood who refuse to let the building go to some big exec who will ruin the street¡¯s identity, people who cared for Carina Ironton and supported her cause. I¡¯m actually surprised that they¡¯ve been able to block the sale of it to someone who would just turn it into another club."


    "And the clocktower?" I wondered.


    "It was used for a different purpose a long time ago. I forget what, though. Carina was an ambitious socialite princess. She wanted to make her own money. She had a vision of transforming the clocktower into a hotel containing a place for social events and a kitchen for the culinary arts scene. I think she envisioned it as a place for the traveling dreamers and artists to retreat to after they enjoyed the summer festivals Ironton Street is well known for. It was about to open before her capture. It¡¯s rather sad it never did," Macaila lamented.


    I bit my bottom lip. Staring at the steampunk clock, I dared to ask, "Do you think she was a part of the Resistance?"


    Macaila shrugged. "The government had their evidence. If she was, then that hotel could have been used for secret Resistance meetings." That was all Macaila would say on the subject, and I didn¡¯t press for more.

 THIRTY-TWO

    A month after the London Massacre, Macaila approached me and told me that her parents had invited me over for dinner. Her presentation was awkward, if a little bashful. My response matched her awkwardness, and I agreed. When I informed Sebastien of the development, he was elated. Seeing that joy overwhelm his face caused relief to flow through me. Sebastien had been harassing me lately on my progress in infiltrating the enemy¡¯s camp and wasn¡¯t thrilled with the information I had already provided. He wanted to know when the Resistance planned to attack. He wanted names, whether he had a mole in his inner circle, how large the Resistance had grown, where they were burrowing away in his city, and who the mastermind was behind their renewal. Mostly, however, he wanted to know where the Gates were. His fury simmered underneath the surface every time he called me to his office and demanded a report. He had been quickly losing patience with me until I had told him about the dinner invitation.


    Macaila lived with her parents in a row house in the ninth ring. Concerned about my safety in the area, Sebastien assigned Jay to escort me there, much to my dismay. Jay was upset about the assignment; it took away from his time in the champagne rooms at Hellions. He refused to talk during the escort, which was fine with me.


    The row house was the second one in from the end of the block. Its stoop had been decorated with fall flowers and small white pumpkins that contrasted nicely with the navy-blue exterior of the home. Broad square windows had been installed over the front door on the second and third levels of the home. Both had dark curtains that concealed the interior. If the exterior was any indication, the Amhersts took pride in their home.


    Shifting on my tiptoes and crossing my arms, I stopped Jay in the shadows to avoid being seen. "You can go, you know," I said. "You don¡¯t have to wait for me. I plan on being here for most of the night."


    Jay gave me a sideward glance and grimace. "And risk getting into trouble for leaving you?"


    "You never were concerned about the consequences before," I snorted. "Your recklessness astonished me sometimes."


    "That was before." Jay was short. "Times have changed. The daemeyri could be rallying right now and about to attack the city. I don''t want you to be caught up in that." I knew he was talking about that morning''s headline that the rest of Astraera had woken up to: Vampire Lord Found Bloodless and Hanging in the Middle of the Street. His body was located in the seventeenth arrondissement, strung up on the cables used by the government to hang propaganda. There had been the expected whispers about who could do that, with most of the blame being placed on the Resistance, and why the vampire lord had even been in the seventeenth ring when he wasn''t expected in Astraera in the first place. Neither Sebastien nor the Senate made a public announcement. For such a leader to be killed in mage territory... Sebastien and Jay''s concern was legit.


    After the Resistance assassination bombings and the death of Andralyn''s beast, it took a while for the city to return to a normalcy. Yet, time had healed those memories, and everyone got accustomed to the new changes. To my surprise, Senator Alistair was promoted to chief senator. There were some growing pains from this change, if I read Sebastien correctly. Still, the mages and seraphim were right on track with their paradise goals. The Resistance remained burrowed in whatever hole they had retreated to. It seemed like they had become inactive again... if they were not involved in the death of the vampire lord.


    "Jay, the Amhersts don''t have any connection to the daemeyri. I''m sure of it." My eyes drifted to the Amhersts¡¯ windows before lifting to the sliver of the night sky I could see in between the towering buildings in the city. "Really, you should go. If anyone sees you hovering out here, it¡¯s going to raise suspicion. I have an assignment to complete, and you and I both know I work better independently." My gaze darted back to Jay just in time to see the uncertainty on his face.


    "What if this is a trap, and you need my help? You don''t know Macaila''s parents. Aren''t they suspected of being a part of the Resistance?" Jay protested.


    My lips twitched in an almost smile. "I¡¯ve gotten out of dangerous situations before," I reminded him. "I can assure you Macaila has no ill-will against me, and from what she and Cassiah have told me about her parents, nor do they."


    "What you¡¯re saying is that my being here is cramping your style?" Jay teased a little.


    "Yes.¡±


    "I wish that we could have those earpieces Galileo used to give us during missions. Sometimes, I wish we could go back to being Shadowfire and Spector. Life was much easier then," Jay muttered. Surprised, I stared at him. He almost never mentioned that time with Galileo, and I¡¯d almost believed that he had completely forgotten about that decade in his past. "That way I could leave, but still monitor you. There¡¯s a pit in my stomach letting you walk into the lion¡¯s den alone. What is the chancellor thinking?" Jay shook his head and looked away, frowning with displeasure.


    My stomach twisted uncomfortably at his proclamation. Sighing, I placed a hand on Jay¡¯s arm. "I¡¯ll be okay, I promise. Go. Go hang out with your friends. I¡¯ll see you later." He didn''t move. "Unless you want to be invited to dinner," I teased, with one eyebrow arching.


    "No." Jay asserted quickly.


    It appeared as if Jay''s feet had rooted him to the ground, so I moved first. Adding a curtain of nonchalance to my attitude, I walked out of the shadows concealing us and directly towards the Amhersts¡¯ stoop. When I reached the top step of the stoop, I could hear someone¡¯s quick steps hurrying towards the door. The security door flung open to reveal Macaila. An enormous smile appeared on her face as she struggled with the door handle to the iron screen door. After a couple of seconds of fidgeting with it, she threw it open towards me, and I caught it. "Stupid door," Macaila muttered. "We¡¯re damn lucky no one has tried to murder us in our own house. The stupid door would trap us in here." She rolled her eyes as she ushered me in.


    I twisted to look over my shoulder to see if I could see Jay lurking where I had left him. Either he had started walking back to his side of town or he still remembered Galileo¡¯s old lessons on remaining invisible. I put Jay out of my mind and followed Macaila into her home.


    At first glance, Macaila¡¯s home was quaint, and very well curated. A set of stairs met us at the front door. To the left, an open area hosting couches, a dining room table, and kitchen invited me in. Cassiah was already in attendance, sitting on a loveseat. He was engaged in conversation with someone who looked to be a younger version of Macaila, with her darkened skin and hair. I took this to be Macaila¡¯s younger sister, although I hadn¡¯t heard about her very much. Whatever she was talking about with Cassiah prompted passion to ooze out of her and chaotic gesturing. Past where the two were on the couch, I saw an older man darting back and forth in the kitchen, stirring a pot here, seasoning a pan there. He was humming a faint melody against the radio''s constant stream of music. He seemed to be distracted by his own world. A woman with curly brown hair and a thin build was carefully maneuvering around the older gentleman as she set the table.


    Macaila led me to the open area. Speaking over the light music playing in the background, she announced, "Mom, dad, Bria¡¯s here."


    The older woman dropped the utensils she had been holding onto the table and darted around it. When she was close enough, she latched onto both of my wrists. "Oh my, I never thought I would be meeting you! Mac has been gushing about you every night at dinner!" Heat flushed to Macaila¡¯s face, and flustered, she hissed, "Mom!" and tucked strands of her curly hair behind her ear. "Oh, I don¡¯t mean it in that way! Mac just hasn¡¯t made a new friend since she met Cass, and that was ages ago. The other students at the Academia either ignore her or bully her." Macaila¡¯s mom paused to take a giant inhale in. She pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees to face the kitchen with me. "Anyway, I¡¯m Montserrat, though you can call me Serra. And Mac¡¯s father is Michael!" Serra was rather enthusiastic, a trait that she had given to her eldest daughter. Serra¡¯s bubbly personality, coupled with her rough accent, was welcoming, and I couldn¡¯t help but be drawn in.


    Michael threw me a quick wave in greeting during one of his spins around the kitchen.


    Cass and the girl I assumed was Macaila¡¯s sister stood up and awkwardly shuffled to approach me. "I¡¯m Meaghan." Her little sister introduced herself. I smiled at her in greeting.


    "Come, I hope you are hungry. We have a fabulous dinner planned!¡± Serra guided me over to the kitchen island where appetizers had been laid out. It all looked homemade, from the bruschetta to the bacon-wrapped sausage bites and watercress. I felt honored Macaila''s family would go to these lengths to welcome me, if somewhat flustered. I had never been a guest of honor until I had stepped foot in Astraera; Galileo had raised me to be humbler than that. Not wanting to displease Macaila''s family, I picked up a bacon-wrapped sausage by the toothpick and nibbled on it.


    It wasn''t long before Macaila''s father, Michael, had dinner plated and Meaghan and Serra were moving the platters over to the table. My nose picked up on the delicious smells radiating from the food. Steam was rising from a couple of the dishes. I hadn''t realized how hungry I was until that moment. Thin slivers of duck were paired with a creamy, orange-colored sauce. I could hear the sizzling coming from the cheesy potatoes and smelt the baked goodness of what appeared to be cheesy cornbread muffins. Thin spears of seasoned and roasted carrots added some color to the feast. My mouth started watering over the display of the home cooked meal, and only my manners kept me from scarfing it all down.


    I was seated in between Macaila and her mother, while Cass, Meaghan, and Michael were seated on the other side of the table. "Mac has told us you believed you were mortal for most of your life," Serra started the dinner conversation. "Your story is rather remarkable."


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    Flush heating my cheeks, I glanced down at my plate. "It''s probably not that remarkable," I objected meekly with a small shrug. I waited for someone else at the table to lift their forks first. The platters had been passed around. Macaila and her father picked up their knives and forks and worked to divide their duck into bite-size pieces. Relieved, I followed suit.


    "Your mother basically flipped off the entire government when she disappeared," Serra declared, starting on her potatoes. "In hindsight, she had probably discovered she was pregnant with you and decided that she did not want to raise her daughter in Astraera."


    "Do you know why?" I pressed.


    Serra shook her head. "After she returned to her family and divorced her husband, she became a hermit. Before, she was all over the tabloids, and the news loved to feature her on the front page. She always had something going on, and the news always had a story that would sell when it concerned her. We couldn''t go a morning without seeing what she had done the night before on the morning broadcast. It became rather ridiculous."


    My gut twisted. It was difficult for me to describe the mixture of feelings swirling inside of me, as I didn''t know exactly how I was feeling about my mother''s behavior prior to my existence.


    "She had a husband?" Meaghan inquired after she swallowed a piece of duck.


    "Yes," Serra said around a small bite of potatoes. After she finished chewing it, she further clarified, "Zane Konstantinos. They met at the Academia and shared a passion for political science and activism."


    "Maybe he''s your father." Macaila stated exactly what I had been pondering.


    "No, he isn''t," Serra claimed. She shared a look with her husband, who had remained silent up to this point. I got the sense that theirs was a relationship where opposites had attracted. Serra was used to doing all the talking, while Michael preferred to remain quiet. "Her husband was in prison when Bria would have been conceived."


    "For what?" Macaila exclaimed, her eyes wide. We forgot about our food.


    Serra''s lips pursed. "Treason, I think."


    Macaila and I exchanged glances. From how wide her eyes were, I realized Macaila knew nothing about what her own mother was talking about. Turning back to my food, I asked, "Did you know her?"


    "No, unfortunately not," Serra answered, while Michael shook his head. "At the time, I had just arrived here on my visa to marry Michael. I''m from Nicaragua, you see, and back then, Michael was working at the senate office. I think his position in the office was the only reason why my visa was granted; the mages are reluctant to allow a lot of mortals into Astraera. Since I didn''t have any work lined up, and it was like I had moved to a new country, I spent my days in Michael''s apartment. We used to live in one of the penthouse suites in the fifth circle; it was extremely ritzy. I felt like I was a princess swept into a faery tale. Anyway, I spent my time alone trying to find out as much as I could about this new world while Michael was at work. One way I did that was by reading and watching as much of the news as I could. Your mother''s story was one of the continuous ones that fascinated me."


    "What about you, dad?" Meaghan asked as she speared duck onto her fork.


    Michael grimaced softly and shook his head. "I saw her around the castle several times, but never really spoke to her."


    I was curious why Macaila and her family now lived in the ninth ring and not in the fifth. However, it was a question best to ask in private and not at the dinner table. Regardless, I still asked something that I knew could upset the table. "Do you think she was ever involved with the Resistance?"


    A deathly hush struck the table. Michael and Serra managed their reactions quite well. Michael set his fork onto his plate as if he was done eating. Serra stared at her own plate and didn''t dare to meet my gaze, unlike her daughter, who was attempting to stare a hole into my forehead. Her eyes were narrowed. I avoided her stare and struggled to maintain my nonchalance, as much as I wanted to shift in my seat. "Why would you ask such a question?" Michael finally inquired in a toneless voice. "I would have thought the chancellor told you everything you needed to know about your mother."


    "I haven''t been able to find out very much about her," I admitted the truth. "Just that she was very well known and apparently a socialite. This is extremely different from what I remember of her. With me, she strived for anonymity and fled from the spotlight. She was so righteous and adamant in instilling morals into me I think she would have been enraged by what has happened with the five people who were hung as traitors. It didn''t seem as if they got proper trials. I''m not sure if she would have approved of reacting to the hangings by bombing the castle in retaliation, though." Come on, I thought, I gave you some information. Give me some in return.


    "She was certainly passionate about her perspective of ethics," Michael muttered darkly into his plate. His hands gripped the table.


    "What Michael means," Serra declared, "is that your mother and her little group of friends had a difference of political opinion from the norm. You could say they were rather radical."


    My head tilted out of curiosity. "She never really spoke about politics with me. It never really seemed like she cared all too much about government."


    "Surprising she didn''t try to brainwash you," Michael grumbled.


    Serra''s lips pursed as she lightly tapped his forearm with her fork. "Stop it. Bria was only a child. A mother wouldn''t have done that."


    Michael''s eyes rolled up towards the ceiling in exasperation. "Madeleine Konstantinos became passionate about politics when she was still at the Academia. During her first several years there, she met a fellow student by the name of Zane Konstantinos. The professors should have separated them the moment they started talking, because the two of them created their own little deranged paradise that they later became determined to implement onto the entire mage society. According to them, the current mage government was so corrupt it needed to be destroyed and reconstructed. It became more important for them to stand on street corners and preach about their idealistic government than graduating. They even had pamphlets they handed out to anyone willing to accept one. Before I was sent on assignment to Nicaragua, everyone thought it was a foolish protest. Their ideas were just too radical."


    "But?" Macaila encouraged her father. Everyone at the table had stopped eating to listen to Michael''s historical recounting. There were only two people at the table who had lived it, and from Macaila, Cassiah, and Meaghan''s avid interest, I knew that this history wasn''t taught in the Academia''s classrooms.


    "When I returned to Astraera a couple of years later, things were different. No one was snickering about Madeleine and Zane''s two-men protest. Instead, people started to follow them and it shifted into something more legitimate. Zane campaigned for the next chancellor election. People fell in love with the ideas he was preaching, with the change he was promising. There was a time I really believed he would become the next chancellor. Madeleine was by his side all the way, so I thought she would be his second-in-command."


    "Yet, he was defeated by Raiden Ramiel," Cassiah interjected. Macaila flashed him a look and shook her head.


    "I wouldn''t say defeated," Michael objected. "Months before the elections were set to happen, Zane was arrested on the suspicion of summoning demons and letting them loose on the mortal population."


    I was not the only one whose jaw dropped at the bombshell of information Michael had just released. Even Cassiah twitched from the shock of it. Lost in his memories from several decades ago, Michael nodded to himself and continued. "Madeleine pled ignorance to his mischief. She stated she did not know what Zane was doing down in the basement of their little home; her focus was elsewhere, she claimed. She was adamant that had she known what he had been doing during those hours, she would have stopped him. Then she did what some say was the greatest betrayal of all: she separated herself entirely from him and renounced him when he needed her the most during his trial. She never showed her face in the courtroom and refused to speak on or against his behalf. She had simply fled back into her parents'' home and attempted to earn their forgiveness. Some of her political actions had gone against what they stood for. She disappeared completely from the spotlight. She stopped pushing her political agenda, and with Zane incarcerated, there was no one to lead their political movement."


    Macaila had her chest pressed against the edge of the table. "Did it dwindle out then?"


    Her father met her gaze. "We would not be here if it had."


    Serra sighed impatiently, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Your father believes that their followers still existed after their demise and were sneaky enough to find their way into the Senate and chancellor''s office without it being too blatantly obvious."


    "It''s just too odd," Michael proclaimed. "Some things Konstantinos and Madeleine were preaching did end up becoming laws. And there is some evidence of the last chancellor election being tampered with. There is proof that forged votes in favor of Sebastien were added, and yet, no one seems to care! Everyone with an ounce of influence just turned a blind eye to the matter. And just like that, the mage government has been infiltrated by the enemy they had sought to defeat."


    Cassiah perked up. "Their followers caused the Nocte Civil War."


    Meaghan frowned. "The Nocte Civil War?"


    "It happened when Konstantinos escaped prison, probably about five years before you were even born. Mac was just an infant at that point," Serra explained. "His followers stood behind him and they established a new country, a new government, with Konstantinos as the obvious leader. What did they call themselves, Michael?"


    "The Valeion." Michael''s eyes flashed. He settled his chin on his fist.


    Serra snapped her fingers and pointed at Michael. "That''s it. Their first act was to assassinate the dynasty. The civil war went on for about eight years after that. There were grisly casualties on both sides."


    "I don''t remember any of this," Macaila claimed. She was pinching her bottom lip as her mind raced. I glanced at Cassiah, who was frowning down at his plate. He had consumed everything he had scooped onto it. From his expression and locked jaw, I realized that unlike Macaila, he had some memories from that time, despite being a child.


    "We kept you distracted with dolls." Serra smiled sadly.


    "How did it end?"


    Serra released a huff of air. "Konstantinos was mysteriously defeated."


    "How?" Meaghan pressed.


    Serra shook her head. "No one really knows too much about his death. There was an anonymous report sent to the newspapers that Madeleine Konstantinos¡ªthe very Madeleine Konstantinos we had believed died many years earlier¡ªdefeated him in a one-on-one duel." My breath caught in my throat. I had my suspicions as to who anonymously alerted the mages of the battle. It had to have been Galileo. "She was killed in the battle as well. At first, everyone was astonished by the news; remember, we thought she was dead. However, the sovereign confirmed the accuracy of the information, and Madeleine was honored. For weeks on end, her family''s colors were displayed everywhere. And with Konstantinos''s defeat, his followers just scattered."


    "The movement died out after that," Michael contributed.


    "But not if what you said is true and the current chancellor got into office by deceit!" Macaila argued.


    Meaghan''s thoughts were elsewhere, just as her gaze was. Her fingers tapped against the table. "I wish I could have seen the battle between Konstantinos and Madeleine. It must have been epic. Two magic wielders who once had been intimate, one reformed good and one evil." Meaghan shook her head. "You can''t make this up!"


    "That''s insensitive, Meaghan! Madeleine was Bria''s mother," Serra snapped. Her shrill voice acted as the conclusion of the conversation. I felt her gaze on my face and pretended to be oblivious to avoid any further awkwardness.

 THIRTY-THREE

    Our dinner discussion transitioned away from the past to other topics, such as Macaila''s potions. She had improved over the years. To hear her parents tease her about it, it had taken some trial and error for Macaila to get to where she was at now. Laughing over dessert, which were delectable bite-sized treats called bless bars, Serra, Cassiah, and Meaghan told me stories about how Macaila had burnt a hole in the ceiling of her room once, and during another time, gave herself second-degree burns. Meaghan also excitedly informed me that the family would depart Astraera for a two-week-long vacation at the end of the year when the Academia went on holiday break. They were going to visit their mother''s side of the family in Nicaragua, where Meaghan would stay for an extended amount of time. The girls were already salivating over their grandmother''s homemade tamales and tres leches cake.


    Being with Macaila''s little family was quite enjoyable. Jay''s concern and fear over their intentions had made me apprehensive about the dinner. It turned out to be unnecessary, and Macaila''s nuclear family opened their home to me. Before Macaila declared she was going to show me the rest of the home, Serra enveloped me in an enormous hug and told me I was welcomed anytime at their house. Even quiet Michael hugged me in farewell.


    Cassiah grabbed another bless bar, and inspired by both him and my taste buds, I grabbed one, too, before following Macaila''s ascent up the staircase. Macaila told me to grab more, since I ate like a six-year-old girl. I muttered something about how the quality of her dad''s cooking was superb, and that it was my appetite that was to blame for how little I ate. We passed the second level without stopping, as it hosted the master suite. Macaila stopped on the third level, which she shared with her sister. The stairs continued to ascend to a darkened region of the home. Macaila pushed open the door to her bedroom, telling us, "Give me a second." She rushed to her desk without waiting for us to answer.


    I stood at the threshold with Cassiah and, taking the opportunity to nibble on the bless bar, I examined Macaila''s bedroom. Macaila was twenty-four years old, an age where many mortals would be out of their parents'' homes, exploring life and their adult lives. Mage life was different, however, and many mages stayed at home with their parents until their thirties due to school taking longer to complete. During one of our ice cream ventures, Cassiah had told me that Academia students under the Nullus program (usually the non-magical students) commuted to school daily. The students who were learning how to control their magic had to board at the Academia to prevent any major accidents.


    Macaila''s room was on the smaller side, containing only a daybed, dresser, and desk. The furniture had scruff marks on it and the material looked dull from age. The blankets piled on her bed were thin from normal wear and tear. Her school backpack was tossed by her desk, its zipper still pulled up. Heaps of clothes were strewn about her room''s floor. Her desk''s surface was covered by empty glass bottles (of different sizes and colors) and corks. On one side, she had jars of different substances. Cleanliness was not one of Macaila''s priorities. I appreciated that about Macaila, as it probably contributed to her easy-going personality.


    "You have to get your mother to give me the recipe for this," I informed Macaila as I nibbled on the bar. I didn''t know when I would ever cook it, as my apartment lacked a small kitchen.


    Cassiah threw the rest of his inside of his mouth. "No need. It''s a traditional mage recipe," he told me. "You can find the recipe in any cookbook. And Macaila usually has some in the fridge here."


    "You can even change out the bottom layer," Macaila piped in as she diverted her attention to squatting down and opening her backpack. "My favorite is white chocolate." I stared at the orangish-tan bottom layer of the bar. Its butterscotch flavor still lingered in my mouth, and I couldn''t imagine the flavor being switched over to white chocolate, or how it could be Macaila''s favorite when the butterscotch was already delicious. The top layer was a chocolaty-chunky-peanut-butter mixture. The entire thing had a fudge consistency. Macaila found what she was looking for: a magazine. She tucked it inside of her arm and led us up the next flight of stairs. Cassiah and I followed her up to the roof of her home, where a couple of lawn chairs had been set around a table. Delicate faery lights were strung up overhead. I ventured to the half wall that surrounded the roof.


    The breeze cooled the lingering summer air. I almost melted into the breeze, especially when it caressed my neck. The roof was high enough that I could see parts of the remaining nine sectors and then the beginnings of the shoreline. The bridge that connected Astraera to the mortal world was illuminated for the night. From its white paint and lighting, it almost looked ethereal against the night''s darkness. "This is amazing," I told Macaila. "If I lived here, I''d be up here every single night!"


    "You love it that much, eh?" Macaila laughed. She brought her knees up towards her chest and propped her magazine on them.


    "Yes," I exclaimed.


    "It''s fine, I guess." She shrugged.


    "Just fine?" Her lack of enthusiasm ushered me away from the wall and back towards my friends. I sat on the edge of the chair next to Macaila.


    Macaila sighed and looked up from her magazine. "I just remember our old house up in five. Now, that was a house you would have loved."


    "Why did you move?" I straightened with interest. There was a story here, and one I had already meant to ask her about after dinner. Fortunately, Macaila obliged.


    Macaila''s shoulders slumped as she stared at the ground near her feet. "We were allowed to live there back when my dad was working for the senators. He was living the high life as a single guy. He then fell in love with my mother, who, as you know now, is completely mortal. When my magic disappeared, and when Meaghan was born without any, it was right around the time when people started to freak out about magic disappearing from our bloodlines. More and more children were being born without affinities. Immediately, the fingers pointed at the relationships that involved mortal blood. Immediately, divisions formed, and no one wanted any association with those families who had birthed magicless children. My dad hung onto his job and status while I was growing up. His hard work spoke volumes to his employers. However, when I was thirteen, the senators wanted nothing to do with our family. They stripped my father of everything they could: his job, his status, our home. We were banished. We were fortunate enough to land in the ninth only because my dad doesn''t open his wallet very often and had decent savings to rescue us from the trenches."


    As Macaila spoke, she became more bitter. This was a rare side she was revealing to me. I could now see motivation behind the Amhersts joining the Resistance, if they were even a part of it. There was nothing during dinner or throughout their house that blatantly screamed of the rebellion. I was beginning to second guess the assignment Sebastien had tasked me with. The Amhersts wouldn''t lead me to the Resistance and the weapon at the Gates to the Heavenly Skies because they weren''t a part of it. They had every right to be dissatisfied with what had happened to them, with the sudden discrimination that had outcasted them.


    "Did you have a similar situation?" I asked Cassiah.


    "No, Cassiah never fell from grace."


    Smiling tersely, Cassiah said, "No, I''ve always lived in the seventeenth. My family has a small two-bedroom apartment housing three generations. It can get busy and cramped sometimes, so I try to stay out of there as much as I can." Unlike Macaila, there wasn''t any bitterness in Cassiah''s tone. Even though I felt a swell of pity for him in my gut¡ªespecially after seeing the sordid conditions of the seventeenth circle¡ªCassiah had accepted his fate a long time ago.


    I was not surprised. Compared to Macaila, Cassiah had always seemed underprivileged. His clothing was secondhand and loose-fitting. Cassiah didn''t speak about his family very often, and all I had gotten from him was that he was an only child. While his mother had wished for another child, it hadn¡¯t been feasible to feed another mouth. This had made Cassiah extremely humble and introverted in loud crowds. However, around us, he could get a bit excitable on the rare occasion.


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    "I don''t know why you would bring up politics at dinner," Macaila stated. She sat further back in her chair and stretched her legs out on the table.


    I examined her. She didn''t appear to be too furious. "I was only curious about Zane Konstantinos and my mother," I admitted. "I was trying to get more information from a neutral source."


    "Who happened to be my parents?" Macaila confronted.


    I bit my bottom lip. I kicked my legs up so that they were side by side with hers. "Yes."


    The glance Macaila and Cassiah exchanged was quick. If I hadn''t been paying attention, I would have missed it.


    "I''m curious about him, too," Cassiah agreed. "We could go to the library sometime this week and see if we can find something in the old newspapers. They keep them all bound up."


    "Oh goody, a library trip!" Macaila exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically with a sarcastic clap. "You can count me out. I have a lot of orders to catch up on, anyway." Her attention turned to the magazine still on her lap as she flipped it to a random page. There was enough porch lighting in the darkness for her to study the magazine''s pages.


    "What''s that?" I inquired, jerking my head at the magazine.


    Without looking up, Macaila said, "Just a dress catalogue."


    "You got some hot date coming up?" I teased.


    Cassiah snorted. "Do you even know her? Catching her on a date will happen as soon as the next supernova in the sky does."


    That got Macaila to look up from the magazine to send a dangerous glare towards Cass. It was accompanied by her middle finger. "There are reasons for that. Who wants to date those prissy-ass girls at the Academia?" Turning a cold shoulder to Cass, she twisted to make our conversation a bit more private. "The masquerade is next month, and I wanted to get a jump on trying to find my dress." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cassiah lean back into his own chair and stare up at the sky, like he had no further comment¡ªor as if he was suppressing what he truly wanted to say.


    Intrigued, I pressed, "The masquerade?"


    Macaila nodded as she folded her legs underneath her. "This is only my second year that I''ve been eligible to attend. It''s on the longest night of the year, December 21st, and it''s my favorite day of the year. I used to dream of dressing up in the elaborate costumes when I was a little girl and going. Meaghan and I used to prance around the house in my mother''s old dresses."


    "That''s my birthday," I realized.


    "Do you know if you''re going?" Macaila leaned forward, more excited than I''ve ever seen her.


    I shrugged. "Sebastien hasn''t told me anything, so probably not."


    Macaila flicked her eyes upward and shook her head. "Obviously, you''re going! It''s still a month away, and I''m sure he''ll start bringing in seamstresses for you to consider, probably even Ashlyn Jio. She''s the one the wealthy try to commission. There''s a theme every year. Last year, it was your lame ¡®ice and fire¡¯. This year, they announced it was going to be flashback. Attendees are supposed to base their costumes off some historical figure." Macaila, always full of energy, scooted closer to me so that she could share the magazine spread. Our thighs pressed together.


    Together, we reviewed the different options the magazine offered from the different designers. The costumes were rather elaborate. There were some with full skirts and corseted tops. One paid homage to the bohemian culture with its colorful patchwork material. While it was strapless, the wearer could wear the puffy sleeves that accompanied it if they wanted to. There were the mermaid and swing dresses thrown into the mix. Macaila fell in love with one where the corseted bodice was a rich crimson silk. The material descended into plentiful, crimson-colored skirts. Cassiah joked no one would be able to get close enough to her to ask her to dance because of the skirts. Personally, I thought the dress accentuated her personality. In turn, my favorite was more whimsical. The material gave off an evanescent vibe, and the sleeves were divided, adding to that whimsical feel.


    We were discussing the food options at the masquerade when the first firework erupted behind Cassiah''s head off in the distance. It was followed by several more explosions of color and light. The occurrence was unexpected enough that it redirected our attention. Pursing her lips together, Macaila stated, "That''s weird. Why would there be fireworks going off right now?"


    "Is it some major holiday?" I suggested, even though I knew it wasn''t. I would have known if it had been from staying at the castle.


    Cassiah stood up and walked over to the retaining wall. "Can''t see very much from here, but it doesn''t look like anything is going on. I can''t see any crowds. It seems like the fireworks are coming from the shore by the bridge."


    "Want to go and see what''s up?" Macaila stood up, tossing the dress catalogue onto the table. Although her statement came out as a suggestion, we were following her down the home''s staircase and out of the front door¡ªwith Cassiah grabbing us two more pieces of the butterscotch mash. Macaila''s family had retreated to their personal spaces for the night, and no one was there to intercept our curiosity. Cassiah knew the quickest way to get to the fireworks site. He dodged into alleyways to cross over to a new street and took bridges I had never taken before to cross over the canals. It helped that the fireworks continued to provide a show and guided us to the exact location of their launch: just inshore of the bridge.


    When we arrived on scene, the perpetrator had faded into the shadows. There was evidence of the launch site. A depression had been dug into the sand. Various cardboard containers were scattered around the hole, discarded and abandoned.


    "The last one went up seconds ago; he has to be around here," Cassiah mumbled. Our eyes searched the wide street in front of us, eyeing the perpendicular streets branching off the main avenue. The street hosted a variety of shops catering to the beach. There was a kayak rental place, and another place that offered large umbrellas and towels so people could enjoy an afternoon on the sand. Here and there, cafes filled in the remaining gaps, advertising iced coffee and fresh wraps. The street was dead, closed because of the time of the night.


    Turning around, I gazed at the staircase connecting the bridge to Astraera. My eyes traveled up the steps until my body jolted in reaction to seeing a human shadow bouncing up from the last step and onto the main portion of the bridge. "There!" I cried, pointing. I was already running by the time my friends had spun around. As I raced for the steps, the sand grabbed at my feet and slowed my advance. Grunting, I pushed harder. I soon found myself pounding up the staircase.


    "Bria!" Macaila''s loud voice echoed against the night. I ignored it.


    There were about a hundred steps to the bridge. Barely breathing, I charged up it. My heart was pounding against my chest and my lungs desperately needed air by the time I had reached the top. It was not all for nothing. In the distance, towards the middle apex of the bridge, I saw the fleeing man. He was too far away for me to make out any distinguishing details. All I could tell was that he was wearing all black and had short brown hair. I charged forward, attempting to catch up with him.


    "Bria!" Macaila called, her voice cracking from being out of breath. They had reached the staircase''s apex. I didn''t dare to slow down or take my eyes off the man. My mind was scrambled as I tried to recall which mortal land the bridge was connected to presently and wondering whether the man was fleeing there. Was he some mortal who had prior knowledge about this place? What if he was a part of Xavier''s crew of witch hunters?


    I got my answer sooner than I thought.


    The stranger halted suddenly upon the middle apex of the bridge. He turned to the bridge''s railing, hoisted himself up on it, and dived into the water. Astonished, I increased my speed, my footsteps pounding over the stones. I skidded to a stop as soon as I arrived at the spot he had launched himself over. Frantically, I searched the sea for any sign of the man. There was nothing. The water was undisturbed underneath the moonlight. Whatever disturbance he had caused by diving in had disappeared before I had arrived at the spot. Panting from the exertion, I rested my hands on top of the railing for support and stared at the deep, ripple-free water. I was more perplexed than anything.


    Macaila and Cassiah stumbled up seconds later. Both were struggling to breathe. Macaila was holding onto the railing for assistance while trying to brush her frizzy hair out of the way of obstructing her vision.


    "He dived into the water," I exclaimed. My shock came across in my tone.


    "What? Why would he do that?" Cassiah objected.


    I peered into the water. A sense of calmness rushed over me. "The old castle is down there."


    Macaila and Cassiah refused to let me dive right in after the stranger. Macaila even scoffed at the idea that someone could live in the old castle, as it was underwater and even hali mages could still drown. She rolled her eyes when I mentioned the possibility of air pockets. Still, I couldn''t ignore my instincts, especially after we checked underneath the bridge and around the shoreline, where we didn''t find any fresh footprints. Cassiah just shrugged and pointed out I could have lost him in the perpetual fog surrounding the bridge''s apex. He shrugged again when I pointed out we had been nowhere near the part of the bridge where the fog hovered.


    In the end, we were left with nothing else to do but to return to our respective homes for the night.

 THIRTY-FOUR

    Perhaps the most pleasingly exciting thing to have happened in those months leading up to the masquerade and my birthday was the preparation for the ball itself. A couple of days after I first learned about it from Macaila, Sebastien called me into his office. We were not alone, as a very put-together woman in a tailored blouse and skirt with straight red hair draping around her shoulders was occupying a seat. I recognized her as the same person who had prepared me for the senators'' dinner. A large leather-bound book was propped up on the conference table. Sebastien introduced her as Ashlyn Jio, one of the leading seamstresses in Astraera. She specialized in supplying dresses for the masquerade and Sebastien had employed her services to ensure I was properly dressed for the year''s theme.


    Sebastien left Ashlyn and me alone to look through Ashlyn''s binder, which was filled with different dress designs attributed to influential figures in mage history. At once, I was awed by the work and the magnitude of options she presented. "You get first pick of the female costumes," Ashlyn informed me, "if you decide you like what I can do and go with me." There were the customary princess gowns with the full skirts and diamonds sewn onto the bodice to form some elegant design. Then another one reminded me of a pirate''s attire, which led to some curiosity about who that historical figure could be. A black jumpsuit shouted simplicity and freedom of movement.


    I spent a little under an hour looking at Ashlyn''s designs before I settled on one. "We can make that work." Ashlyn smiled after I announced my decision. "You will be extraordinary when I''m done."


    "Which historical figure was that design inspired by?" I wondered. Sebastien had returned to his office and was sitting on the other side of the conference table. He had been distracted by government work but looked up as if he wanted to know the answer as well.


    "Adriana Penderyn," Ashlyn declared.


    My gut twisted into a tight, suffocating knot as I recognized the name. Evangeline, Kyrian''s sister, had mentioned that name before. Adriana had betrayed Evangeline''s brother in the worst way possible, although the seraph hadn''t exactly been clear on how, beyond the curse of invisibility. She had even sent Kyrian a dagger to kill himself with when he was struggling with the betrayal. If that was the same Adriana, then I had unwittingly chosen to be her for the masquerade. I froze, wondering if it was too late to change.


    "You look like you are suddenly unhappy about your choice," Sebastien observed.


    "Is she the same one who was involved with Prince Kyrian?" I questioned carefully.


    "You mean the seraph prince? Yes, that is her," Ashlyn confirmed.


    Sebastien examined the design I had chosen, which Ashlyn had set aside. "I think you should still go with it," he proclaimed. "Adriana Penderyn is still a notable figure in our history, despite whatever issues she had with the seraph royalty. She should not be defined by her relationship with the seraph. She was much more than that. I agree, Adriana Penderyn was not a saint. Yet, I will argue that she was¡ªand still is¡ªquite misunderstood. She had sizable ambition and keen intelligence. If she had stayed with the mages, she would have been an exceptional leader, which she no doubt was down in the Underworld, consort to a god. You would represent her perfectly."


    I bit my lip.


    "Is it going to be a problem? We can switch your costume if you would like, pick someone new." Ashlyn''s hands hovered over her binder, prepared to go through it with me again.


    I considered it. In the end, told her it was okay, and Ashlyn ran off with my measurements to start preparing my gown. Despite her sympathetic concern, she appeared excited about this particular commission. Curious about this distinct figure of mage history, I intended to perform my own research on Adriana. Sebastien held me in his office after Ashlyn had scurried off. "When we realized who exactly Jay was, and who partially raised him, I had him brought to me for an interview," Sebastien transitioned into a new subject. He stood up and walked over to peer out of the windows. I spun my chair around to follow him with my gaze. He was building up to something important. "Jay mentioned Galileo trained the three of you in the art of combat."


    A chill went down my spine. I straightened, at once wondering where the chancellor was going with this. "He did."


    "Jay said you were a creditable threat. He had to go full effort in the sparring ring just to keep himself from getting a broken nose or black eye. You had speed, grace, wit, power, combinations, and just the right amount of spontaneity."


    I blinked. Jay said that? "He managed to get me down a couple of times, too."


    Sebastien went on without recognizing my demureness. "And one of my men can attest to how well trained you are." Sebastien turned around from the view. From the confusion he observed on my face, he explained, amused, "You attacked one of my men on my special forces with a staff three years ago in Colorado. If I remember correctly, you knocked him unconscious."


    My eyes widened when I realized whom he was talking about. I forced myself to breathe as my mind raced. I had never realized that Galileo was attempting to steal from the mage chancellor. Back then, I didn''t even know mages existed. While keeping my expression unreadable and guarded, I examined Sebastien. He remained placid. "He attacked me first," I responded evenly.


    "You broke into the hotel room, but it''s all semantics and off topic anyway," he brushed off before he launched into the explanation behind his odd questioning. "Every year, the masquerade honors mage history and tradition. There are a couple of performances and parades honoring the Divine, our magic, and the prophetess Aurora. Usually, the masquerade committee chooses the actors from the young adults at the Academia who have stood out in a positive manner, whether that''s through academics, magic, leadership, or youth league sports. There is one performance, however, where adult actors are preferred, and that''s the Sol and Luna dance. It''s more of a staged combat than dance. It represents our natural alchemical heritage."


    "Okay," I said slowly when Sebastien paused.


    "I have asked the masquerade committee for the honor to assign you to the dance as the part of Luna."


    "Who will be Sol?" I couldn''t imagine learning such an important dance with a stranger as a partner. Even when I was performing in aerial dance, I preferred solo routines over partner ones.


    Sebastien shook his head as his eyes glittered with mischief. "That will have to remain a mystery. It''s a tradition."


    "Wouldn''t I have to practice with him?"


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "No, it''s supposed to be instinctual between the two parties. Primitive. That''s why it is important that the chosen Sol and Luna have both the fortitude and knowledge of dance and combat." Sebastien considered me. "Does that mean that you will agree to it? I want to give you every opportunity to experience your mage heritage, and I feel you would have been offered one of these roles had you grown up in our world."


    I felt like I had to agree to it.


    As I was walking out of his office, I realized he never once asked about the compass rose¡ªwhich I had been sent to steal from his men. The last I knew, it was still secured in Denver''s evidence warehouse. He didn''t even seem to care I had burglarized the hotel room and stolen the odd compass.


    * * *


    Just as he had promised, Cassiah went to the State Library with me, while Macaila relied on the excuse that she had too many orders she needed to fulfill before she went on vacation with her family. After introducing me to the Master Librarian, Desirae, who was hovering around the center circular desk already manned by one of her assistants, Cassiah guided me over to the old broadcast manuscripts.


    On the way, we passed by a section that was cordoned off. There was enough natural light flowing in through the library''s glass dome to see the damage. Shelves were fractured; most of the wood had turned an ugly dark brown from the flames that had consumed them. The remnant ashes of old books still stained the floor. "That''s where the Resistance''s bomb detonated a couple of months ago," Cassiah whispered to me as we walked past it.


    I considered the section with more interest. "What type of books did it contain?"


    "Mostly nonfiction historical stuff pertaining to the mages."


    "If I wanted to research into the current chancellor''s biography, it would have been there?" I frowned.


    "You seem close enough to him. Couldn''t you ask him?" Cassiah read into my question correctly.


    I shook my head. How do you ask someone about why they didn''t have any family?


    The section we wanted was two floors above the main one and kept in a secluded aisle. From the orderly state of things, it appeared as if no one had browsed the shelves lately.


    "When would he have been sentenced to prison?" Cassiah inquired as we turned in circles in the aisle. There were golden numbers imprinted on the books'' spines and a couple of trays jetted from the shelves holding large bounded manuscripts. I migrated to one tray and looked down. Although most mages retrieved the news on their erions, Cassiah had explained that the news station created hard copies of the broadcast for historical accountability and nostalgia.


    "Twenty-six years ago, maybe?" I grounded my teeth, uncertain about my estimation.


    "Then we start at the 1993s."


    I flipped through the manuscript in front of me. The material was rough. The book had been flipped open to the manuscript from November 1988. There were still quite a bit more pages in the book, so I grabbed large sections at a time in order to move forward. The dates steadily increased until the very last one, which was in October 1992. I was off by a year. Cassiah was working through the manuscript at the next tray, so I stepped next to him. As he flipped the pages, I focused mainly on the dates. Some headlines caught my eye.


    Drama on the Senate Floor: The Battle between Alisai and Quincy.


    Aerie Affinities Fading, Soon to Become Extinct?


    Daemeyri Leaders and Senate Come to Terms on New Deal.


    Rebels Demanding to be United with the Rest of the World.


    With every flip Cassiah completed, I started to realize something. He had slowed down once we had reached the 1993s so we could inspect every page, or else I didn''t think I would have noticed that there were some dates missing. As it was, it took some time for me to realize that a couple of dates were missing from a part of the binding. The manuscript started in March, where one week''s news had not been inserted into the stack. Then it became blatant in July, where there was only one week representing the entire month.


    "Stop."


    Frowning and complying with my request, Cassiah inquired for answers with his gaze. "There are weeks missing," I announced. I gently pushed Cassiah to the side in order to inspect the manuscript''s gutter. It appeared as pristine as ever, as if no one had torn pages out of the book. The pages had never been added. I straightened to find Cass staring down at the open pages before him. He darted to the next manuscript presented on the tray to the right. Its first pages started with the paper from February 1994.


    "These are usually complete," he insisted. "I had to use them for a project of mine a while ago."


    Biting my bottom lip, I said, "They never got put in."


    "That''s unusual."


    "Unless someone is hiding something," I hypothesized.


    "Something related to Konstantinos?"


    "Maybe." I shrugged. "It''s too bad. I wanted to see a picture of him. Just to know what he looked like."


    A shadow darkened the aisle. My breath got caught in my throat. I was able to control myself enough to prevent jumping over the sudden appearance of the Master Librarian. Beyond stating her title, her name tag identified her as Desirae Corazen. She was a petite woman with a contradictory face. While her cheekbones were sharp, the rest of her face was soft. Her dark hair had been slick back into a neat French braid that had the tail tucked underneath. "Are you finding everything you need? Can I help you find something?" she inquired politely.


    Fortunately, Cassiah straightened next to me and asserted, "We were only trying to find information on the Nocte Civil War." I stood next to him. The way Desirae''s intimidating stare rested on us made me feel like I was just a mischievous teenager, and not the twenty-three-year-old I was. I tried to keep my true intention¡ªto find out as much about Zane Konstantinos as possible¡ªoff my face.


    Desirae grimaced. "Unfortunately, all the material for that civil war was located downstairs where the bombing happened." Convenient, I thought.


    "Do you have any backups?" Cassiah asked hopefully.


    Desirae shook her head; her lips pressed together in a narrow line. "No, we never got around to it." She paused before asking, "Is there anything else I can help you find?"


    "Do you have anything on Adriana Penderyn?" I interjected while Cassiah shook his head.


    This Desirae could help us with. She guided us to the domestic history section, where I found the book I needed, Our Dynasty''s Linage. It was a thick volume. Flipping through the pages, I saw painted portraits and photographs next to blurbs about each specific person belonging to the obsolete mage dynasty. I navigated to the index, found the long list of P''s, and then Adriana''s name connected to page 337. I flipped to that specific page and saw her name emblazoned across the page. Hers was one of the few unfortunate blurbs lacking a photograph. Instead, there was a good chunk of information to make up for it.


    Adriana was born into the dynasty as the second child out of three. She was wild as soon as she emerged from her mother¡¯s womb, always running off and returning after dinner with flowers tangled in her hair and dirt on her dress. No matter how much the queen and king tried to control her, she always found some way to rebel.


    At age nine, Adriana was accepted into the Muse Program at the Academia. She completed this program at twenty-five and became one of five muses.


    Perhaps the most notorious action she did was to leave the dynasty. The way she did it resulted in the creation of the Persephone and Hades myth. At twenty-eight years old, Adriana appeared for the year''s masquerade in the era''s most scandalous dress and announced she was resigning her position in the dynasty and the Muse Order to become the Queen of the Underworld. She had been blinded by her desire for Clymenus, the Underworld God, and the power he could offer her. This in itself became a scandal, as she had been paired with a seraph prince during this time. After Adriana''s descent, she was never seen again, and her muse position remained vacant and cursed until the collapse of the program in 1969.


    Well, it is fortunate that the seraphim probably won''t be coming to the masquerade, as it''s purely a mage tradition, I thought. I''d had enough with Kyrian''s hostile attitude. I didn''t need for him to see my gown, which was to mimic the scandalous dress Adriana had worn to her last masquerade and berate me for my choice. Still, I felt a bit of apprehension at the succeeding dress fittings with Ashlyn, especially when I discovered how much skin the dress revealed, something which hadn''t been obvious in her artistic two-dimensional renderings. It felt like a lot of me was exposed. When I expressed this to Ashlyn, she assured me that my important areas would be covered, and the way I presented it would make it either scandalous or stylish. She sounded so confident that I had to trust her.

 THIRTY-FIVE

    I had circumvented gravity''s control. It could no longer keep my feet planted on the ground. I was levitating far above the earth''s crust. Architecturally creative skyscrapers lingered below me. There were people staring out of the skyscrapers'' windows, fear present in every cell of their bodies, contorting their expressions into gruesome horror. They were too stunned to run away, hoping that the buildings they were in protected them from the fate of their peers. The buildings wouldn''t. I planned on ripping out the buildings'' roots and levitating the entire structures with me. Until I let gravity win, have its control again. Then¡­ smash.


    I gazed around me. Against the sunset, I was the only serene soul in the sky in a sea of mortals. They had been going about their day, perhaps returning home for dinner, or heading to the bar to meet up with friends, when I severed the ties they had securing them to the ground. Now, they were flailing around me, as if they wanted to get down. Their frightful screams ruined the peaceful twilight. It was becoming quite annoying. I tried to block out their screaming and flailing limbs as I appreciated the scenery. The China Zun was the tallest building in sight, and I used its roof for guidance as to how high up I wanted to be. I could still see the Temple of Heaven and CCTV Headquarters. The Tonghui River glistened in the light of the sinking sun.


    A piercing shriek shattered the momentary serenity of the scene. Glaring, I found the woman who was emitting the noise. She was hovering over the river, thrashing in the air as if she was fighting an invisible monster. Irritated, I considered her. Her behavior was becoming too irksome. I had planned to keep the pedestrians longer, at least until the first signs of the military''s arrival. The downpour of unexplained ashes had already started. The pedestrians were becoming too irksome.


    With a thought, I released my hold on the pedestrians.


    And let them fall.


    * * *


    With a suffocating gasp, I sat up in the bed. My hands planted on the bed to add stability as I panted through my rough and erratic heartbeats. My skin was flushed. Despite it being the first day of winter and still in the early morning, it was uncomfortably warm. My arms were trembling as they helped stabilize me. I felt weak and fatigued. My mouth had an ashy taste to it, as if I had just smoked a cigar the previous night.


    A light snore alerted me there was someone else in the room. Jay was sprawled out on the other side of the bed. Before he had crawled in, he had removed all his clothing except his boxers. His uniform had been haphazardly deposited on a chair along with his weapons. I realized I wasn''t certain of when he had appeared. Searching my memories, the last thing I could remember was the last ennui-inducing lesson I had had with Leander. He had wanted to squeeze one in before the Academia went on winter break.


    Well, second to last thing I remembered.


    The first was levitating over Beijing.


    My stomach lurched with nausea. I felt the surge of bile up through my throat. I made it to my bathroom on trembling legs before the contents erupted through my mouth. After I had expelled the bile, I stumbled over to the sink. My hands gripped its rim. If I hadn''t, then I would have collapsed to the ground.


    I stared at my reflection in the mirror. A gaunt, fear-stricken face stared back at me. There was a dark smudge above my left eyebrow. Dirt, or maybe ashes, I thought. My collarbones poked out of my blouse. My hair was in shambles around my face. With a shaky arm, I brought my fingers to my scalp and massaged it. Already knowing what I would see on my fingertips, I still brought my hand up for inspection. Black, ashy smudges rested on my finger pads and underneath my nails. I released a sob.


    Murderer, my mind shouted at me. My eyes fell to the sink, unable to stare at my reflection any longer. Monster.


    This time, my arms and legs were not strong enough to hold me up, and I collapsed onto the bathroom tile. I landed on my side and curled into a ball. I tried to bring my knees up as high as they could go into my chest. My sobs wrecked my chest. I could barely breathe. I didn''t need to go to the erion in the other room to confirm what I already knew. It wasn¡¯t just a nightmare, like I wanted it to be. Yesterday, I had appeared in Beijing and added more victims to my name. There was an unrelenting bloodlust in me. How many more would be killed until I could master my magic? Were their lives worth less than mine?


    I already knew the answer to that.


    Another eruption of acid forced me onto my hands and knees, my fingers clutching the bathmat underneath me. I hacked out a clear substance. Suicidal thoughts crept in. It had to be done. My first thought went to Jay''s weapons, uninvitingly sprawled out all over my chair. Yet, I was so physically unstable, I didn''t think I would be able to manipulate a semi-automatic weapon to do what I needed it to do. So, I resorted to an old method.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Agony radiated throughout my skull as I threw my head towards the bathroom tile. For moments, the shock and pain made me froze. Darkness and stars ruled my vision. I reoriented myself and did it again and again. Blood sprouted from the skin that was ripped open. It drifted down my face, creating pathways over my nose, mouth, and cheekbones. I could taste the iron mixing with the ashy taste still lingering in my mouth. Sobbing, I forced myself to continue the self-harm. It was the only way to prevent another massacre from occurring again. I was willing to sacrifice myself to prevent it.


    "Bria!"


    The rush of footsteps traveled from the bedroom into the bathroom. My hands were slipping out from underneath me. I slammed my head again. "Bria! Stop!" I had the faint awareness of muscular arms wrapping around my torso and yanking me backwards into hard flesh. I squealed and squirmed in the attempt to escape to return to destroying myself. The arms tightened around me. I kicked out with my feet, trying to get leverage to get away. All that gripping and pushing off the floor propelled us backwards into the wall. Snarling through my tears, my hands reached up and scratched at his forearms. A couple of times, I broke free of his hold. I wasn''t quick enough to retreat, and he could always snatch me before I could get enough leverage to throw myself at the floor. That''s how we stayed for minutes, hours, I don''t know, against the bathroom wall, his panting and my sobbing overpowering my hearing.


    I had only so much energy, and eventually, I just collapsed into numbness.


    When Jay felt I had calmed down enough, however much later, he slowly released me. By then, I was so exhausted that I slumped against the wall with my shoulder. The cool surface lightly mitigated the agony pounding in my skull. Fortunately, I hadn''t switched on the light when I had entered. We were using the moonlight to see by. I heard Jay rip the hand towel away from the towel rack and place it under the faucet. Soon, he was kneeling before me and lightly dabbing my forehead with it. Even though I had slammed my head against the ground several times, it did nothing but create a superficial wound and migraine. "You are a mess," Jay observed.


    I responded with a pessimistic grunt.


    "The masquerade is tonight, and here you are with vomit in your hair and on your breath, trying to bash your head in!"


    I waited for him to inquire why. I waited for him to tell me he knew about the massacres, and he understood what type of headspace I was in. I waited for him to offer support, to guide me to a solution I hadn''t considered before. I waited for him to ask about the Beijing massacre and comfort me for causing the deaths that were connected to that one.


    Jay did none of that. Whether he remained oblivious by choice or because he was truly slow-witted, Jay went on cleaning my face. ¡°I¡¯m happy you stopped. It scares me," he stated. He flung the towel into the sink. Inside, I scowled a little, not wanting a bloody towel in the sink. He scooted so that he was seated right beside me. His large hand crept over my body. At first, it was massaging my bare back underneath my blouse in what he thought was a comforting manner, before it explored the length of my arms and legs. "I don''t know why you would be propelled to do this," he admitted.


    My eyes shot open. I stared at the door hinge. The side of my face was pressed against the wall. "You don''t?" I croaked, disbelieving.


    "No. You have everything here. You were given your future back. Sebastien will make sure of it. You have an apartment that is meant for a senator, and an easy invitation to all the galas throughout the year. If you wanted to, you could become rather influential! You could have power to decide on new laws," Jay declared. His hand roamed around my stomach, slowly encroaching higher (and lower).


    I couldn''t allow his obliviousness to rule the conversation anymore. "Did you forget about the massacres?"


    "No, but you''re working on your magic, right? You''ll master it. You have mastered everything you have ever tried. I''m not worried."


    "People are dying, Jay." I choked on the sob. My voice sounded raw.


    "Hey." His hand stopped drifting around and suddenly became possessive, grabbing at my crumpled blouse and arms. His other hand came to help. He pulled me onto his lap so that I was facing him. His hands gripped my upper forearms. My head found a new place to rest against the wall above his shoulder. "You''re going to learn how to control your magic, and then you are going to redeem yourself. I wouldn''t worry about it. Just like I will not worry about my own stress at work. The commander has assigned us to a detail for a month at the most miserable place in this universe. I''m going to be away from Astraera, from you. It''s bullshit." My mind lurched over his words. His lips caressed my neck.


    "Jay," I refused. I didn''t have enough energy to retreat.


    "Shh," he said. "Let me help you. Let me distract you." His lips mastered mine. As his tongue thrust into my mouth, his passion exploded. His tongue attempted to battle with mine, which was a lot more subdued. Limp, even. Underneath me, I could feel the press of his manhood against my leg. His hands scrambled wildly around my body, pulling at my shirt, cupping my breasts and ass, and shifting my weight around. He pulled my head in so that he could kiss me more soundly. In the quick moment he took to gather his breath, he murmured, "I want you, Bria. Let me have you. I need you, please."


    I allowed him to remove my leggings, twist me onto my stomach, and position my hips at the precise level he needed. He shifted my underwear to the side. My hands returned to clutching the bathroom mat as he thrusted in and out, as he got the relief he sought for himself. A single tear drifted down my cheek. This was what I had become. I blocked out my feelings about what was happening. I was doing this for him. Jay needed this. Whatever stressors he was carrying on his own shoulders, he needed this to relax.


    Afterwards, neither of us had enough energy to get up and return to the bed.

 THIRTY-SIX

    When Ashlyn found us later in the morning¡ªand woke me up with coffee and pastries from a coffee shop using the silhouette of a sitting Labrador Retriever on top of a dog bone, my dress thrown over her shoulder, and a team of professional stylists and her assistant in tow¡ªshe only lifted her eyebrows and wisely didn''t say anything. I knew she could piece together some of what had happened earlier: we had left the evidence around for her to find. The bloody towel was in the sink. My forehead had a circular laceration in the middle. Jay''s boxers were thrown up against the shower, while mine were uncomfortably saturated from his gratification. Ashlyn shooed Jay out, telling him he was to report to a vacant apartment in the castle to prepare for the masquerade himself. He would have his own stylists waiting for him there. Jay surprisingly left with little argument. Then Ashlyn turned to me. I became her compliant doll as she spent the better part of the day getting me ready for the event, which was to start soon after the sun started to set.


    Ashlyn was not fond of my initial appearance. I hadn''t showered the vomit out of my hair or brushed it out of my mouth. After my shower and a visit from a healer, she interrogated me for an hour to confirm that the forehead injury was self-inflicted, and that Jay hadn''t fallen into a violent rage. After she was certain I wasn''t his rag doll he was abusing, Ashlyn moved on with preparing me for the masquerade. She made some comments, however, throughout the process. Ashlyn muttered a complaint about how my dress was too loose around my waist, and that I needed a milkshake and hamburger to make up for the weight lost I''d had since she had last measured me. She eyed her makeup stylist''s work with her arms crossed, confirming that the redden mark on my forehead was concealed and my face didn''t look so gaunt. Having the masquerade as a distraction helped with the agony I was carrying inside.


    When I stood in front of the mirror after everything was done, I took a deep breath to appreciate the work Ashlyn and her stylists had completed. The gown had been created with only diamonds and black mesh. Ashlyn had combined the two materials to create a v-cut bodice. The v was deep and far-reaching. It was far deeper than anything I had ever worn before and exposed the interior bulge of my breasts. The skirt was just a simmering scrap of material attached to the bodice. It left most of my legs revealed while barely covering my behind. A pair of black, glittery heels elongated my legs.


    My favorite part, and probably the element that had initially drawn my eye to the gown, were the strands of diamonds that traveled over my shoulders to hold the dress to my form. The two strands ran parallel to my spine as they traversed down my back. It was at my hips that they met up with the skirt of the gown, leaving the rest of my back exposed.


    Ashlyn''s stylists had piled my hair on top of my head in an elaborate system of braids and twists. A tiara just as ostentatious as the dress was nestled into my hair. Another stylist enhanced my eyes and cheekbones using the different tools she had in her makeup kit. I had never put on as much eyeliner as I had on right at that moment, or fanned it out to create that smoky effect, and the highlighter gave me a severely regal elegance as it accentuated my cheekbones. Blush had been carefully blended in. Somehow, the makeup worked well with the diamond-studded mask Ashlyn had created to accompany the dress. It, too, had a strand of diamonds that wrapped around my skull to keep it in place.


    I had never felt so exposed before, and yet, so free. Adriana had wanted her last gown to radiate power and present the message that she was rebelling against her role in conservative society. As I stood there, admiring Ashlyn''s creation, I wondered what Kyrian had thought of Adriana''s dress that night so many millennia ago. Did he suspect she would betray him that night? Or had he still been oblivious to the inner workings of her ambitious mind?


    I had a moment of silence to appreciate Ashlyn''s work before Jay arrived. In another effort to push Jay and me closer together, Sebastien had requested that Jay be dismissed from his regular duty and assigned as my masquerade escort.


    Ashlyn had sewn a secondary outfit for him, one that was compatible with mine. I choked on my agitation when I learned he was to be Kyrian. Ashlyn had constructed white feathered wings that were specked with gray for him to wear. She had altered one of his uniforms and added more seraph elements to it, such as the shoulder patches. He had a lot more medals strapped to his chest. Whether it was a request made by the military commander and Sebastien, Jay was still armed as much as he had ever been. There was a dagger in his waistband that was not amongst his usual weaponry. I wondered if that was a play on the dagger Adriana had given him.


    Looking at him, I was relieved once again that the real Kyrian would not be attending the masquerade. When Sebastien had informed me Jay would attend the masquerade as my escort, and who he would represent, I had hoped that it wouldn''t be so obvious¡ªespecially when Ashlyn simply requested one of Jay''s tailored uniforms to build upon. Since Kyrian was invisible, I didn''t even know if Jay bore any kind of resemblance to him. I knew Kyrian had some bulk on him from the night he had aided me in escaping jail; he had carried me to the getaway car. I didn''t know if he was the same size as Jay or if he had blonde hair. His sister and mother had platinum blonde hair. Nonetheless, the wings would be an eyesore. It would be impossible for Jay to remain out of the spotlight as a simple soldier with them. One look at my attire, and others would be able to guess exactly who he was.


    "You look ridiculous in those wings," I teased.


    From the scowl Jay''s face featured, I knew he was less than thrilled with my own appearance. "Is that it?" Jay asked, as if he hoped there was more.


    "I''ve worn less during my aerial dance performances." My eyes narrowed as my tone altered to a more defensive one.


    Jay''s eyes flicked over me again before settling on the mirror''s reflection, where he could probably see the skirt stopping right underneath my ass. "Not really," he disagreed. "It''s like you''re wearing a t-shirt."


    Straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin, I informed him, "Well, there isn''t any more to this dress. This is it."


    Jay''s jaw twitched. "Well, you better hope you are not marring your reputation with that dress." I got a sudden urge to knock him out cold with that dagger Ashlyn had given him. As if he could sense the murderous direction of my thoughts, he sought to distract me and approached. Awkwardly, almost robotically, he raised his right hand. In it was a black box. Suspicious, I accepted the box from him. He hadn''t once wished me Happy Birthday today. His arm dropped back down to his side as he waited for me to open it. My movements were sluggish with reluctance as I opened the box.


    Inside was a circular teardrop-shaped sapphire necklace. The sapphire was surrounded by a halo of diamonds and suspended by a fine silver cord. I was so awestruck that I froze momentarily as I looked up at Jay in confirmation and wonder. I was also fearful of the complications this would create. Yet, what he said next confirmed exactly what I believed: this was too good to be true. He hadn''t spent his own wages on a birthday gift for me.


    "It''s a loan from the chancellor," Jay explained. I felt my shoulders relax with relief. "He gave it to me to give you to wear for the night. Said it would go with your dress." His bulky hands snatched the box from me. "Turn around," he ordered. Those same bulky hands secured the sapphire necklace around my neck. The jewel landed right above my breasts. Both Jay and I stared at it, mesmerized by the contradiction it had with the other diamonds I was wearing.


    The castle''s clock chime echoed seven times across the grounds. "We should go," Jay declared. He didn''t offer me his arm, instead preferring to walk by my side as he navigated the hallways to the ballroom. I found myself grateful I had Jay as my escort. I had been living in the castle for four months, and there were still areas I hadn''t explored yet¡ªone of them being the grand ballroom. It had been designed for formal events, and so, for most occasions, was a bit too grand.


    I would have been content walking down to the ballroom in pensive silence. However, Jay had other ideas. "You must consider yourself lucky," he stated. My questioning gaze prompted him to continue. "It''s rare that a person just gets given an opportunity to attend the masquerade. There''s an entire lottery system set up at the beginning of every year for new guests¡ªthe ones who can''t afford to have their names on the list automatically. It''s rather exclusive, and somewhat elitist."


    "Sebastien just feels pity for me," I commented.


    Jay shook his head. "No, that isn''t it. There''s something else."


    We were approaching the top of the main staircase now. A variety of other couples were slowly making their descents below us, their costumes just as elegant as ours. We fell in step behind a male¡ªwrapped in bulky furs¡ªand his companion, who was wearing a black jumpsuit. I swallowed my light-headed apprehension as I stared down the long descent, pushing away the vision of me tripping down the steps in my three-inch heels. "Is this the first time you are attending?" I inquired.


    "As a guest," Jay responded. "Last year, I was assigned to an exterior post. Almost got frostbite from it, too."


    From the tone of his voice, it didn''t seem like he had very favorable memories of the event. I told him so, and Jay shrugged. "During the actual masquerade, it is boring just standing there at your post on perimeter and watching the wealthy parade about as if they are the greatest the universe has ever seen. No, the real party comes during the after party."


    "After party?" I prompted.


    Jay nodded. "When all the guests have passed out from drinking too much, and the masquerade ends, the soldiers who were assigned to the detail for the night are given the next day off. The last drunken guest usually stumbles out of the ballroom after sunrise, so we get that entire next day off. We go to the cliffs behind the ballroom with the daemeyri guards and the leftover bottles of booze and have our own party. Last year, I passed out in the sun and got a massive sunburn on my back. I peeled for days for that one, and every time I put on my uniform, it hurt." Jay grimaced in remembrance. "But the lycans were pretty cool. I thought I could drink anyone under the table. They definitely proved me wrong."


    I stumbled on the last couple of steps and had to catch myself from tripping. My grip on the railing was tight as I used it to regain my balance. "Wait, there are daemeyri guards at the masquerade?"


    "Yes." Jay looked at me strangely as he steered us through the front foyer and down one hallway that ran the length of the castle. We avoided the people loitering in the foyer. "All the daemeyri royalty bring their own guard to protect them."


    "I didn''t think they would be invited," I said around the sudden alarm I felt. "Will the seraphim be here tonight?" Fear gripped my heart and made it difficult to breathe. I fought the urge to find a mirror and peer at my reflection to verify I couldn''t be identified. The mask only covered the top part of my face, however, leaving my bottom half exposed. Had Kyrian and his family been around me long enough to identify me just by my jaw? I decided right then that I would avoid the seraphim. I didn¡¯t want to face Evangeline, especially after all she told me about Adriana betraying Kyrian.


    "Absolutely. The seraphim and daemeyri have always been invited as an effort to influence unity amongst the magical community. Though I''m not sure how many will be in attendance this year," Jay mused as he guided us onto an enclosed exterior bridge that connected the castle with an outlying building. Snow had blanketed the ground outside overnight. The crisp purity of it contrasted with the bouquets of crimson flowers that were arranged across the bridge.


    "What do you mean by that?" I asked.


    "We were briefed that the daemeyri are not too pleased with the death of the vampire lord on our territory. It''s rather ridiculous we are being blamed for it though," Jay snorted. "We didn''t know the lord was in our territory. He had no formal business to be. There was a formal investigation completed, but it wasn¡¯t good enough for the daemeyri because a culprit wasn¡¯t identified. But sometimes, the daemeyri fractions don''t listen to reason, and they get carried away by their emotional inferiority complexes." Unfortunately, from what I had seen, I didn''t think that applied to the seraphim. Emerson and Sebastien seemed to be working together to create Paradise. I tried to swallow past my apprehension. I had an irrational urge to run back to my apartment and create a new costume out of whatever I had hanging in my closet. There was still a lot to explore in there; there had to be something. "That''s fine by me. Sometimes, they can be a bit odd. It won''t make much of a difference either. For the first time ever, Sebastien invited some mortal leaders to the event. He''s trying really hard to get them to agree to the paradise treaty."


    I looked at Jay out of the corner of my eye. If I couldn''t change my outfit, then I could ensure Kyrian and his family wouldn¡¯t see us together. Maybe enough time had passed that they wouldn''t realize I was wearing a replica of Adriana''s scandalous dress. Maybe they would assume I was representing someone else, especially if I deserted Jay. It had been millenniums, after all. I was going to leave Jay after the first dance, anyway. "You know you don''t have to remain by my side, right? I''m going to find Macaila and Cassiah as soon as possible. I know you''ll probably be extremely bored, so you don''t have to hang out with us."


    Jay gave me a weird look that was impossible to decipher the meaning behind. We were nearing the end of the bridge and what I assumed was the ballroom''s atrium, so I was unable to prompt him to explain the meaning behind that look. Good riddance to him; he could find his fellow soldiers and drink to the point of oblivion.


    There were attendants standing at the open French doors in between the exterior bridge and the ballroom''s atrium. They were in all black as to convey they were not a part of the night''s celebration. They examined us as we walked by. My stride even with Jay¡¯s, we walked in with our chins up and backs straightened. Couples were milling around the circular balcony overlooking the ballroom below and engaging in small chitchat with others. Full-length windows had been installed into the circular walls, and lights were strung across their top frames. Two ornate mirroring staircases offered descent down into the ballroom. Soldiers, mage and seraphim auxiliaries alike, bookended the exterior walls, supervising the festivities with bland expressions on their faces. Light music was drifting up from the ballroom.


    I breathed a sigh of relief as the only person whom I recognized in the atrium was the chancellor. He was standing at the top of one staircase and greeting everyone who was descending. Jay pulled me towards him, and we fell in line behind a pair of two women whose compatible outfits encompassed a woodsy theme. Sebastien''s greeting to them was warm, and if I didn''t know any better, genuine. His smile was polite and attentive as the more talkative of the pair flirted with him before they gave their names to the attendant standing by and entered the party.


    A rush of excitement flooded to Sebastien''s face when we stepped forward. His eyes flickered to the sapphire necklace I was wearing, and that excitement was masked by his satisfaction. "Ashlyn put her damn soul into your dress, Briara,¡± Sebastien complimented. "I have never seen her do such a magnificent job on a costume, and she has been in the business for several years. She''s outdone herself with yours. You look like you''re wearing the milky way sky." Next to me, Jay grunted with annoyance.


    Sebastien''s masquerade identity was of a king, if the bejeweled crown sitting upon his head was any indication of his character. A cape of feathers sat on his broad shoulders while he possessed a white gold trident. Instead of a suit, he was wearing tailored cuts of leather. His shirt had been draped over his shoulders and had enough material to cover his front and back. Two separate strings connected the two parts on the sides. His mask appeared to be made of feathers. These were clues of his identity, had I known something about mage history. "Who are you supposed to be?" I inquired.


    "Sir," Jay whispered beside me. I ignored him. I didn''t have a problem with authority, but I also was not the type to bow down, either.


    "Re, the first mage king," Sebastien answered. "He is considered one of the most powerful mages and leaders ever to walk this earth, actually chosen by the Divine. It''s an honor to represent him. I see you are wearing the jewelry I gave Jay to give to you. I''m glad I did. It accentuates the dress."


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Thank you," I said with a small smile. "I''ll make sure you have it back tomorrow."


    "I trust you. Just let it shine tonight, will you?" Sebastien paused for a second before he asked, "Jay, can I please have a moment alone with Briara?" Jay''s jaw twitched with defiance. Still, he took a step back towards the railing to let the chancellor have his moment alone. Sebastien stepped in between him and me and had us face down the steps to garner some privacy. "I heard about this morning," he advised as he examined my face. "Ashlyn sent a message about what she walked into, and it seems as if you heard about Beijing."


    "It needs to stop," I whispered. "I don''t know how much more my sanity can handle."


    Sebastien''s face was grim. "Don''t give up yet, all right? You come from a long line of survivors." He patted my back. "Can you put on a happy face for tonight and perform your part in the ceremony?"


    I turned my hollow eyes to him. "If I can do anything, it''s compartmentalizing.¡±


    Sebastien''s gaze shifted behind me. Realizing others were lining up behind us, he gestured us over to the waiting attendants. "Here, check in, and I''ll see you both down there. Enjoy yourselves! Get some of the pears: there''s this chocolate sauce on them that makes them taste divine." We gave our names to an attendant, who quickly tapped on his erion in rapid succession and directed us downward.


    Jay and I took each step in silence. A quick glance at his expression revealed he was pensively thinking about something. From the lack of tension in his jaw and around his eyes, I was pleased to note that whatever he was contemplating was not fury-inducing.


    We were too far in the middle of the staircase for me to see over its railing and into the ballroom. The way that the staircase had been designed was to have the main part run parallel with the exterior wall until it joined up with the second staircase. At this landing, it switched directions by ninety degrees to deposit guests in the middle of the ballroom.


    When Jay and I reached the landing, we pivoted in tandem to face the rest of the ballroom. An announcement echoed throughout the ballroom, introducing us as we completed the last couple of steps. Briara Andralyn Disraeli and James Lucas Britton. I winced, hoping that the seraphim had not yet arrived or were otherwise distracted. Jay pulled me into his side as I produced a wobbly smile for the photographers kneeling at the base. A fair number of guests formed a weak semi-circle on the ballroom floor to observe the guests still arriving. Beyond them, the gigantic ballroom was bustling with people in elaborate costumes.


    Jay steered me out of the way of the photographers and onlookers. The crowd quickly provided us with anonymity. Once we had placed an adequate distance between us and the photographers, I disengaged from Jay and stepped back. A tray-carrying attendant arrived quickly, and Jay accepted two glasses of champagne from her. He handed me one of them. While he nearly obliterated his in one gulp, I took small sips of mine. It only made me more nauseated.


    We were just two people in the sea of others. I had been in Astraera for a couple of months. Although Sebastien had introduced me to the senators, I was not around them daily. Nor had I met any of their families. As Jay and I milled about, I smiled and nodded in acknowledgment at the few senators I recognized. They were with their significant others and searching for someone they could have a more prolific conversation with than me. In their eyes, I was just the chancellor''s orphan. There were mages I had never seen before. From the way they held themselves and the expensive appearance of their clothing, I knew some of these people were from the wealthy sector of the population, those people who lived in the third and fifth rings of Astraera. The hesitant ones, the ones who hovered near the walls and observed, were mortals. None of them were the people I wanted to see. Becoming more desperate by the moment, I stood on my tiptoes. "Where are they?" I mumbled under my breath.


    Not caring about whether Jay followed, I meandered through the crowd. Jay followed. We passed by a couple of attendants offering drinks and appetizers. Jay grabbed another glass of champagne while I ignored the food. My stomach was still tangled in knots. I did my best to tune out the orchestra to hear the names of the new arrivals being called out. None of them were my friends''. My anxiety heightened to new levels. Where were they?


    My focus was on finding Macaila and Cassiah. I couldn''t really appreciate the grandeur and beauty behind the ballroom and the different masquerade costumes. The architectural theme of full-length windows continued on this level. Doors leading out onto the veranda were placed in between the windows at intervals. Diamond chandeliers hung over our heads and added a sparkle to the environment. Round tables had been arranged around the perimeter of the room and were already set up for a seven-course dinner. Gorgeous arrangements of roses decorated every table. Since space was limited in between the tables, the party guests mingled on the dance floor. I wove a path through the tables to get to the other side of the ballroom. Macaila and Cassiah wouldn''t be in the middle of the chaos on the dance floor; they were wallflowers. They would be on the perimeter somewhere.


    Once I was on the other side of the room, I immediately regretted my choice and skidded to a halt. Suddenly, I felt the urge to vomit. The seraphim had congregated on this side. At once, I recognized that Jay''s costume wings were a poor comparison to the real deal. Emerson''s was on full display, making his mask ineffective. Kyrian''s mother also had her simmering silver ones revealed. Senators Alistair, Meira Bhun, and Dmitry Valens were engaged in conversations with the seraphim congregation, and it seemed as if the seraphim were giving the conversations their full attention. A black man stood with them, his arm around Meira''s shoulders. I took a couple of steps backwards, hoping for a smooth retreat. However, Evangeline''s bored gaze shifted from Alistair, who was clad in wolf pelts, and over to me. I could see her wonder as she attempted to identify me and then the recognition once she had. She murmured something to one of her companions and then hurried to approach me.


    Evangeline was dressed to be seen. Her outfit honored the rainbow and its bright colors. Two slits were cut through the front of her dress, right up to her hips. The height of her five-inch stiletto heels was what I expected from her. Her flowing platinum hair was released behind her. When she was near enough, Evan yanked me in for an embrace. "I was hoping to see you here tonight!" she greeted. "It honestly was one of the reasons why I was looking forward to the masquerade tonight. Usually, I don''t care for it." Evan pulled away and glanced at Jay, who was hovering behind my shoulder like an unwanted shadow.


    "This is Jay," I reluctantly introduced. "Jay, this is Evangeline, the seraph princess."


    Jay nodded as if he already knew of her. I remembered he said he had been posted at the masquerade last year and had probably seen her then. As the two greeted each other, I told her, "I didn''t think I would see you here."


    Evan eyed my costume. "Obviously." Her eyes moved up to mine as she inquired, "I told you what happened between Kyrian and Adriana. What in the heavens motivated you to choose her of all people in mage history?" She kept her tone even, non-confrontational.


    Awkward, I brought my hand up to fidget with the sapphire around my neck. "I wasn''t looking at the names when the designer was showing me her catalogue. I was just drawn to the dress," I answered, apologetic. "It looked like liquid starlight captured against the dark depths of space."


    "I see," Evan stated, arching her eyebrow.


    "I wanted to change as soon as I found out who I was supposed to be," I explained with a plea in my voice. "Then, when I thought the seraphim wouldn¡¯t be here tonight, I decided not to be a nuisance on the designer and go with my original choice."


    "We''re always here. Every. Single. Year." Evan said. "I''m glad you didn''t change. That dress looks sublime on you. If you''re not pulling a train of lustful men back to your apartment by dawn, I''m going to be extremely disappointed in how you''re spending your newfound freedom." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jay scowl.


    The blush deepened and spread to the back of my neck with her statement. It only brought my own thoughts to her brother, who would have the opposite opinion. "Is Kyrian here tonight?" I was almost afraid to ask. Without knowing if he was or wasn''t, I could go on pretending he was not. If he didn''t present himself to me, his invisibility would ensure I could remain in my fool¡¯s paradise and pretend he wasn¡¯t here.


    Evangeline tilted her head. "Funny how you ask about him right when I said you''re going to have a brothel of men to choose from tonight. Heavens knows he needs to get laid. My brother''s only getting more wound up with each rotation of the moon." Evan rolled her eyes. Another glance at Jay informed me he wasn''t pleased with the crude path this conversation had taken, and his opinion of Evangeline wasn''t favorable. His scowl had deepened, and he was shifting impatiently on his feet. He was only another crude comment away from pulling me away from Evan''s influence.


    "That''s not what I meant," I meekly protested. Besides, he would rather burn me at the stake than bed me, I thought.


    "I figured. Yes, he''s here. I left him back with the parents. Or maybe by now, he''s disappeared to lurk in some shadows. He didn''t want to be here in the first place." Evan stopped an attendant, who was carrying around the chocolate-glazed pears. "Have you had these yet? They are phenomenal. I think I''ve had five already!" As she reached for the miniature serving sized bowls on the tray, I looked closer at the attendant. I nearly dropped my glass of champagne when I recognized Macaila as the attendant holding the tray. Compared to Evan in her heels, Macaila was insubstantial. Her black attendant''s uniform wasn¡¯t tailored. She had braided her hair back and out of the way. Tiny strands of her hair had escaped the plait, revealing her stressed state. Her expression was haunted and pained as her wide hazel eyes peered at me. I realized that she had been attempting to avoid me. Dumbly, I accepted one bowl from Evan. Macaila bowed her head, pivoted, and walked away.


    "Mac!" I cried out. She didn''t turn around. She was heading towards where the enormous crowd had gathered, which was accumulating depth as the new arrivals entered. I threw my pears and champagne at Jay and rushed after Macaila. "Mac! Macaila!" Behind me, I heard Evan ask Jay who the girl was.


    My friend didn''t stop until I had grabbed her shoulder and forced her to. Macaila whirled around, and I saw her eyes were burning with unshed tears, frustration, and humiliation. "We aren''t allowed to talk to the guests," she snarled at me.


    Shocked, I stumbled back from her hiss as if she had just bitten me. Cassiah approached from my left. His tray was empty and tucked underneath his arm. "Mac," Cassiah snapped. Macaila turned her burning eyes on him. Cassiah met her glare and stared her down until Macaila turned to flee. This time, I didn''t follow her. She disappeared through a side door. No doubt it led back to the kitchen. Cass released a large sigh before saying, "I''m sorry. She''s been an emotional wreck all day." At least Cassiah was being sensible.


    "What''s going on?" I asked. "Last time I heard, you two were attending as guests! Mac was even looking at dresses!"


    Cassiah tilted his head. "We have never been masquerade guests. It''s a sore spot for her. She spends every year leading up to the masquerade obsessing over it as if she is going as a guest, and not as a servant. I think it pains her knowing that if her family had not been banished, she would have probably been on the guest list."


    "Then what are you two doing here?" It felt like my heart was being twisted.


    "It''s good money," Cassiah shrugged. "Even if it is a bit depreciating at times." The orchestra had stopped playing, leaving only the hum of the different conversations filling the ballroom. It was a dying hum, though, as Sebastien had started to speak, welcoming everyone to the masquerade and encouraging them to find their assigned seats so that dinner could be served. This was some sort of sign for Cassiah, who said, "I have to get going, Bria."


    Biting my lip, I glanced at the door where Macaila had disappeared. "Just meet me in the ballroom''s atrium when this is done and over with, will you?"


    "I''ll tell Mac."


    "Cass. Please. Throw her over your shoulder if you have to," I pleaded. "I thought I would get to be with you guys for the entire night. I could have survived this pomp and circumstance with you two."


    Cassiah nodded. "I''ll see what I can do."


    I waited until he disappeared through the side door before I moved to join the masses shuffling towards the tables. It was chaotic. Although there were attendants on hand with a list of the seating assignments to help people find their seats quicker, it still took quite a while for everyone to be seated. A jolt erupted through me when I saw the placard advertising Kyrian Asherton right next to his sister''s and parents''. As I passed by their table, Rhea greeted me with a tense glare that I fled from, intimidated. Still, it was not enough to prevent me from wondering about that revelation. The seraphim royal family''s surname was Zakaria; Kyrian had a different name.


    My table was adjacent to the seraphim''s, in Kyrian''s direct line of sight. If he had been visible to me, we could have glared at each other all throughout the seven courses of dinner. Not surprisingly, Jay was seated next to me, and we shared a table with Sebastien, Emerson, and several other people I didn¡¯t recognize. I learned these people were leaders of different mortal countries. Once everyone was settled, a flood of attendants rushed out of the side door with carafes of wine and pitchers of ice water. Their hands were steady as they poured the liquids into our available glasses. Conversation at the different tables started while the orchestra was playing light and soft melodies as to not disturb the ambience.


    I felt out of my element, being seated at such a power table. The table''s conversation immediately started off with the mortals'' curiosity, resulting in Sebastien answering questions about our culture and magic in between bites of the antipasto. Then the conversation transitioned into Sebastien''s dream of the entire world being united under one flag and how the mortals would fit into that dream. They were pleased to hear that if they united with Sebastien''s dream now, they would remain leaders of their current territories, only answerable to Sebastien. There was an implied suggestion that their current territories could expand if the bordering countries were taken by force to implement Sebastien''s paradise. They would, in effect, be the equivalent of dukes and duchesses.


    I tried hard to listen. How often had I heard Sebastien preach about this? My only consolidation was that Jay looked as out of place as much as I did, especially when the first plates of the seven course meals began to be distributed. For a year, he had subsisted on the plain food the military provided free of cost and bar food at Hellions. He hadn''t had anything as elegant as what was being served now. The food was plated as if it was an art masterpiece. He relied on me to model the proper manners when the two-bite salads were placed in front of us. He didn''t say anything; in fact, his silence was unusual for him. He just eyed me and everyone else at the table as he struggled to not shove food into his mouth without any manners whatsoever.


    "You okay?" I leaned over to him, keeping my voice low as to not draw attention to us.


    Jay swallowed the morsel of food he still had in his mouth before nodding. "Yeah, why?"


    "You''re just a little quiet."


    "I have a lot on my mind," Jay defended. He shifted in his chair, and I noticed his hand digging into his pocket. Having seen this before, I already knew what he was pulling out before he revealed it. Jay tried to keep it concealed under the table. Jay flicked open the small tin box, licked a finger, and picked up one tiny crystal. He placed the finger up to the corner of his mouth and the drug disappeared. He quickly hid the box back in his pocket like nothing had happened. His eyes darted up to meet mine, perhaps to check on whether I''d seen, and when he saw my disappointed scowl, his gaze returned to his plate.


    I felt a different set of eyes on me, and I turned to see Sebastien watching me. He had not missed the interchange between Jay and me. He was nodding as the Prime Minister of Croatia asked about the empty tables on the perimeter. I remembered his name was Miroslav. "It appears as if a lot of people didn¡¯t show up," he stated. "Or you simply ran out of invitations." From the curious expressions on the others'' faces, Miroslav had just asked something they had all been wondering about.


    "We invited the daemeyri leaders," Sebastien informed. "They are protesting something we didn''t have any involvement in, and they decided to not attend."


    "What are they protesting?" This time, it was the Salman of Saudi Arabia who prompted for the information.


    Sebastien looked the Salman dead in the eye and explained, "One of the vampire lords was found dead in our city."


    Ana''s eyebrow arched. If I remembered correctly, she was the President of Argentina. "Did you have any role in his death?"


    "Absolutely not," Sebastien denied. "We didn¡¯t know he was in our city."


    "So how did he die?"


    "That is a matter we are still looking into," Sebastien answered. "I hope to have this resolved before we start implementing our plans for the united world." Sebastien''s answers seemed to satisfy the mortal leaders for the time being, and their focus moved onto Emerson. Naturally, they had a lot of questions for the archangel.


    Loneliness surrounded me even though I was seated in a position most would have traded their life savings for. I was separated from my friends and surrounded by political discussion. I longed for the familiarity Macaila and Cassiah would have provided, while I imagined what would have happened if Hawk was by my side and not Jay. My sanctuary friend would not have let me suffer in my solemnness for long. He would have grabbed a chunk of bread, rolled it up in a ball, and tossed it at me, all the while hiding his mischievous smirk. In reality, a long night of dancing waited ahead of me. Hawk and I would have retreated out onto the veranda, spending the long winter hours of evening until dawn talking. My heart wrenched from the agony of missing him. I pushed the thoughts of him away. There was a possibility I would have to destroy him if it meant gaining better control of my magic in this reality. There was a possibility that he was my enemy. I had to be prepared for that inevitable goodbye.


    That avenue of thought threatened to dismantle the aplomb air I was managing, so I sought to distract myself by glancing around at the different tables and trying to find Macaila and Cassiah. By design or accident, both managed to avoid serving the tables around me. Instead, they had been assigned to tend to the tables on the perimeter. No doubt, it was probably the manager who had assigned her best and most experienced servers to the power tables.


    My attention fell onto the seraph royalty table. Rhea and Jakobi were murmuring to each other, contained in their own world. Evangeline, seated directly to her mother''s right, was talking to a male. The conversation was casual. At first, I wondered if Evangeline had brought a date with her and considered him with more interest. He was wearing a bronze mask that covered his entire face. The eyeholes were barely discernible, and it was impossible to identify him. He had some bulk to him, and even though he was sitting down, it was easy to see that his height was substantial. If he was a seraph, he didn''t have his wings on display.


    As if sensing my stare on him, the male''s attention diverted to challenge me across the room.


    The resulting jolting realization crushed into me powerfully as I remembered which name placard had been placed besides Evangeline''s.


    The person sitting next to Evangeline was Kyrian.

 THIRTY-SEVEN

    Alarm shattered any aplomb I had gathered. Furious, I pretended that a steel curtain had crashed into place in between us. My heart was beating as quickly as my thoughts were darting across my chaotic mind. He was supposed to be invisible. I refused to see the judgment and disapproval written all over his body¡ªit was better when he was invisible. I worked on controlling my panic. It helped that I had my own table to focus on. I resolutely kept my attention contained to a three-feet circumference for the rest of the dinner. I thought I felt Kyrian''s gaze on me periodically.


    When dessert arrived¡ªa large slice of black forest cake¡ªthe table''s discussion and focus turned to me. It was only a matter of time (and alcohol), as my face had been plastered across the mortal news stations, before the mortals had enough courage to breach the subject.


    "So, Sebastien," Ana started, clearly believing they were equals, and it wasn''t necessary to use titles. "What''s the story behind you aiding someone who has been accused of these massacres?" She gestured towards me.


    I froze, and next to me, Jay stiffened in his seat. A couple of tables over, Kyrian''s head tilted as if he had heard the raised question and was curious as to what the answer would be. I didn''t doubt that seraphim could hear amazingly well. The rest of the table continued shifting pieces of cake to their mouths as if all of this was normal. I supposed it was for them. There had to be a class instructing how to dine while navigating landmines as part of political appointment. I had my hand laying flat on the table and Sebastien covered it with his own, possessive. Kyrian caught the movement. His lips formed a narrow line. "Briara is a mage," Sebastien declared proudly.


    Ana''s expression flickered with anger before she could recover her poise. "Then it seems like you are enabling her murderous whirlwinds."


    Sebastien shocked us by throwing his head backwards and laughing. This was in complete contradiction with the way his hand pressed down harder against mine until his fingernails were digging into my skin. "Quite the contrary, Ana," Sebastien said with a forced smile. "You see, Briara did not know she was a mage, and we had no indication she was running around with this massive amount of power. It was brewing inside of her for several decades until, finally, it exploded. In a way, that was fortunate, if only because it let us know that she existed. I allowed the Americans to seek their justice with Briara until she was sentenced. Afterwards, I organized her escape from the American jail."


    Ana''s eyes narrowed. "That would be romantic and everything, if not for the fact that the massacres continue."


    "The last one was only this morning!" exclaimed Chile''s President Rafael, waving his fork around in the air. My stare landed hard on my plate as the flashes of the incident replayed in my head. I could still feel the elated weightlessness as I levitated over Beijing. The imagery of all those bodies falling was only a thought away. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly to cancel out the visual. My fork slipped out of my hand and landed on my barely consumed cake. I forced myself to exhale and open my eyes. An internal heat burned my cheeks. I stared hard at the table''s surface, unwilling to give into the desire to check on Kyrian''s reaction. My fingernails were digging into my palms.


    "I have Briara working with one of our best professors to control her ability," Sebastien asserted boldly. "I know people are dying the longer it takes her to learn, but I can assure you, the means justify the ends. There is a reason for everything that happens in the universe. We still aren''t sure what Briara¡¯s magic is attempting to communicate right now. I believe that this will all become clearer in the future, and we just need to be patient."


    Rafael tapped the tabletop. "How do we know she won''t attack our cities, hurt our people?"


    "We were willing to meet with you to discuss a potential treaty. Now, it makes me uneasy to be sitting here. If you can''t leash this wild animal, I''m not sure I can continue to negotiate with you," Ana declared, her eyes flashing. "I am not willing to jeopardize my citizens'' lives."


    Sebastien took a deep breath. There was an intensity around him. "I assure you that if you sign the treaty, your countries will remain unharmed." Shocked, I could not keep myself from checking Sebastien''s expression. It was determined, and I blinked in confusion. He couldn''t promise anything like that. As far as we knew, the massacre locations had been completely random. When I checked on Kyrian discreetly, I saw that he was rigid with his stare was focused on his untouched cake. He had disengaged from his table''s conversation, whereas Evangeline was laughing over something her father had said.


    "She must be someone pretty special if you are willing to give her chance after chance." Ana observed with an eyebrow raise.


    Sebastien glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "She is."


    The comment prompted me to blush, and bashfully, I glanced down at my massive piece of chocolate cake. Fidgeting with my fork, I separated a sliver of miniature chocolate chips acting as a component of the crust and brought it up to my mouth. "So, Briara, what do you think about the unified world your chancellor is about to implement?" The question, posed by Miroslav, made me look up. I swallowed the chocolate chips, which was suddenly difficult due to how dry my mouth became. My thoughts raced in search of the perfect answer. How would Sebastien want me to answer this? A look at his face failed to provide me with any answers.


    "In all honesty, I¡¯m not sure. I am still trying to get adjusted to all this splendor." I went for the truth, and they seemed to accept my answer. Fortunately, at that moment, the spotlight was taken off me and the same question was presented to Jay.


    "Sergeant Britton is one of our messengers in the military," Sebastien introduced before Jay could answer. Jay straightened with importance.


    "I believe it is long overdue," Jay declared boldly. He settled his fork beside his plate. Unlike Kyrian and me, he had obliterated his dessert.


    Ana blinked at him. "Oh really? And how long have you been a part of the mage community, Sergeant?"


    A muscle in Jay''s jaw twitched over her challenge. His steely gaze met hers across the table. "I was born in the fifteenth ring and grew up in squalor. I was trapped in that place until I was sent to the mage reformatory when I was ten." Jay, realizing he had the table''s full attention, continued. "It was like I was a forgotten child growing up. The Republic didn''t know I existed, except on paper, and as long as my family was still alive, I was their responsibility. Thus, the Republic didn''t care about me. I feel like that is true for millions of children in the world, and that is because the government''s focus is elsewhere. If it had time to focus on other matters¡ªthe ones that matter¡ªmaybe so many children would not be forgotten." My hands were clenched in my lap over how pompous Jay sounded. As a child, his family was slightly better off than Cassiah''s, who had truly lived in squalor for all his life.


    "Well, you seem to be doing well for yourself as an adult," Miroslav pointed out with a nod. "Look at where you''re at!"


    Jay''s lips thinned as he considered the man. "That''s because I got out of that hellhole when I was ten and sent to a reformatory for uncontrollable brats for two years. I was whisked away and raised by someone who actually cared about me and who had the means to make sure my every need was taken care of. Not every child is afforded that opportunity, and I was lucky that once upon a time, when I was twelve years old, I was in the right place at the right time. But yes, I should be proud that I am here at this table with you fine folk and sitting next to this beautiful woman."


    Dinner ended soon after that. The attendants removed most of the round tables, except for the ones on the perimeter of room. The orchestra altered their music from curating a fine dining experience to melodies that induced dancing. Conversation circles formed; couples disappeared out to the veranda for privacy. The available attendants were whisking around the guests, proffering more glasses of champagne. Jay was awkward at first and hovered by my side as we wandered around. We had attended formal functions together before; though we usually had a mission to keep us focused. Now we were left with nothing to do except to enjoy the masquerade until the ceremonial performances, which were scheduled to occur at midnight. It was an unusual predicament.


    As we wandered, we came across several people whom I knew. The Master Librarian, Desirae, was there, dressed in a beautiful violet kimono and armed with several fans. Her intelligence sparkled in her eyes. She assessed my costume and commented, "Is that why you wanted to do some research on Adriana Penderyn the other day?" I confirmed her suspicions, and she complimented that the costume was well done. Her gaze narrowed with a little suspicion at the sapphire warming my chest. Politely, I asked her whom she was representing. A small smile graced her face as she responded, "Andralyn, the Goddess of Knowledge." She tilted her head as her eyes flickered around to search the surrounding area. Seeing that no one was paying attention to us, she approached closer. Her palm landed on my upper arm. Her voice was hushed as she questioned, "Are you still looking into Zane Konstantinos?"


    Shocked, I nodded. Had she overheard Cassiah and me in the library?


    "There may be books on him down in the royal castle."


    My mouth dropped open. "It''s underwater," I protested.


    Desirae''s eyebrows shifted upwards in nuance suggestion. Her eyes twinkled with possibility. "True." She took a step back. "Come to me if you need any more help with your research," she invited before pivoting and going to talk to someone else. I was left staring after her. My mind immediately went to the night of the Amherst family dinner. It was the same night that strange male had detonated fireworks before jumping into the sea right over the underwater castle. Had Desirae just been confirming my suspicions that it was still inhabited? Had some spell protected its interior?


    I couldn''t follow through with that thought because Jay placed a hand on my shoulder to grab my attention. "Who''s this Konstantinos guy?" he questioned. I frowned and shook my head.


    Cynthia, the evaluator director, was the next to stumble across our path. She had kept her outfit simple. It consisted of a toga and a wreath of lavender crowning her head. Her diction was eloquent as ever as she asked me about my progress with my magic. I frowned and was forced to admit that it had been lacking. "You have magic, I''m sure of it. It popped up on your charts. You just have to learn how to navigate to it."


    "At this point, it seems as if Professor Leander and I have tried everything."


    Cynthia pursed her lips. "There may be something else we can try. It''s something I''ll have to look into, though."


    I also saw Meira, who was floating around the ballroom in a costume inspired by a peacock. Despite the full peacock tail fanned out behind her, her confidence radiated off her. She had removed most of her body piercings for the night. Her companion, the black man, accompanied her. He had chosen to go bare chested, and leather shorts covered his groin area. Leather bands and straps were accessories on his arms and chest. Meira noticed me and made her way over to speak to me, the man in tow. Jay, who remained my ever-present shadow, groaned. "Please, go away," he muttered underneath his breath.


    "How''s your first masquerade?" Meira questioned, swirling around the contents of her champagne flute.


    I gave her a neutral answer.


    Meira''s consort encroached on the neutral space between us and grabbed my hand. Before I could pull it away, he brought it up to his mouth and deposited a small peck on it. I then recognized him: he was the man from my first time at Hellions and Halos, the bachelor whom Reagan and the other girls played with on the bar top. Behind me, Jay gripped my shoulder tightly. I thought he would yank me backwards and jump in front of me like a ferocious guard dog. "I don''t think we''ve ever met before. My name is Calais Dresden." Calais said smoothly. The charm was oozing off his voice. His eyes examined my costume slowly, appreciatively.


    "I''ve seen you at Hellions and Halos," I commented in return, coolly. "Weren''t you supposed to be getting married?" I scanned his and Meira''s fingers for rings. Meira was the only one wearing a ring. It was that starburst one I''d seen on other senators.


    At my muted confrontation, Calais''s head bounced backwards, and he laughed. "Oh, you just reminded me of that drama!" At my stare, Calais explained, "I''m not married. The girl left me as soon as I presented her with a prenup. I only wanted to protect my caelsphaera team and my family''s business from her influence. She showed she wanted her talons deeply entrenched in both! She ripped up the prenup, threw the pieces in my face, spat at me, and slammed the door behind her as she left. Good riddance," Calais chuckled.


    "You don''t sound like you were very much in love with her," I accused.


    Calais shrugged. "She revealed the true bitch she was and saved me from a lot of sorrow down the road. I''ve heard everything about you," he returned with an eyebrow shift. "I can''t believe we''ve never had the opportunity to meet before tonight. Then again, I''ve been quite busy!"


    "Oh?"


    Calais nodded energetically. "On top of the family''s clock business, I manage a caelsphaera team, the Astraera Kelpies."


    I stared at him and politely nodded.


    Calais seemed disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm; he probably got women who were so impressed with him they practically ripped off their shirts for him. "You haven''t been to a game, have you?" I shook my head. "We''ll have to change that! I want you to attend a game on my behalf! I''ll have some tickets sent to you. The team''s amazing. We''re about a game or two from making it to playoffs! You need to go; it''s kind of a mage''s rite of passage. I''ll even throw in backstage access so you can meet the players." I graciously accepted the tickets, though I doubted Calais would send them my way. He would forget in the morning when I didn¡¯t show up in his bed.


    "Condescending, arrogant fuckturd," Jay insulted when Meira finally pulled Calais away.


    I frowned. "Do you not like him because he''s competition at Hellions?"


    "No, I don''t like him because he never earned that spot as the Kelpies'' manager! He walks around here like his cock is larger than everyone else''s, and for what? Just because he was born into the right family with a father who became a successful entrepreneur? He thinks he can fuck any woman just because most of the upper class wears his father''s watches. It''s pathetic," Jay ranted. He seized champagne from a passing tray and consumed the glass''s contents in its entirety in one gulp. "You better watch out because you are on his radar now."


    I gazed after Calais. His leather shorts accentuated his ass, and as he went shirtless, he was showing off his eight-pack abs and sculpted legs. He reminded me of a black Statue of David. I wondered if he worked out with his players. "He wouldn''t be the worse person to fuck," I mused.


    "Bria!" Jay snapped. "I don''t want you with him at all."


    "I don''t think you can dictate whom I decide to have sex with." A growl encroached into my tone. "Especially since you''ve practically been with every girl at Hellions."


    "It''s different," Jay sputtered. I lifted my eyebrows. Whatever expression I had on my face encouraged him to explain, "Whether you like it or not, you''re at an elevated position. People are going to be critiquing everything you do. Maybe not now, but once you''re trained, you¡¯re going to be high profile. No one cares what I do," Jay grumbled.


    I bit my bottom lip as Jay grabbed for another champagne. I sensed jealously radiating from him, and as much as I wanted to criticize his sexism, I refused to argue in public.


    When Jay had calmed down, he invited me out onto the dance floor when the orchestra produced a romantic melody. At my weird glance directed towards him, he defended himself. "I know you like to dance, and it''s better than just standing around doing nothing." Jay took my hand and led me out to mingle with the others. I searched the mass for Evangeline, hoping to use her as a buffer against the awkwardness forming between Jay and me. He had been unnaturally quiet and introverted ever since he retrieved me in my apartment, as well as quite possessive and protective. It was as if the one-sided sex last night and his drinking tonight had sent him spiraling into this strange behavior. At least Evangeline''s hyper energy would ease some of that tension in between us, provide a welcome distraction. I even wished that Macaila or Cassiah would come by.


    Once we were in the middle of other couples, Jay surprised me by snaking his arm around my waist and intertwining his fingers with mine. The front side of his body was pressed up against mine. Twice in the past twenty-four hours, we had been close in a way that we hadn''t been since the night of the Union Station Massacre. Jay''s arm twitched across my back, anxious. I averted my gaze to his chest, where all his rank metals were pinned to his uniform. They were accentuated by the costume medals. He had the rank of sergeant over his unit of recruited mortals. It was a rank he earned purely because of his mage heritage and circumstances. Whether or not he admitted it, he had received some opportunities from his blood, as Calais had.


    Our first couple of steps were uncoordinated stumbles, and toes were stepped on. More musically inclined and fluid than Jay was, I fought for dominance. At first, he was reluctant, and then gradually, he relinquished control. There was a learning curve as he became more submissive. I attempted to cover the errors the best I could as we twirled around the floor. I kept my gaze turned towards the other couples and became distracted by the chaos of colors and designs whirling by me. One woman had a colorful patchwork dress containing bright pink, purple, blue, and orange. After another spin around, I saw that Sebastien and Emerson had removed themselves to a private area in the grand staircase¡¯s shadow. From the intensity of their expressions and the way they were turned towards each other, I knew that whatever they were discussing was important. They were having another private meeting. I frowned, wondering what could be so important it couldn''t wait until after the festivities.


    "Will you look at me?" Jay snapped. "Pretend that I exist?"


    Complying, I slowly shifted my gaze back to his. There was an intensity to his that made me want to look away. His lips opened as if he was going to start speaking whatever had been on his mind. Then they shut as if he had not quite mustered the courage to. Instead, when he spoke again, he said, "What did you think about the dinner conversation?"


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I blinked, knowing that the question was just a cover for what was really occurring in his mind. "It''s just leaders behaving like leaders and just trying to expand their influence and power over the rest of the world," I declared with a shrug. "It was nothing new that history hasn''t seen before. The balance of power is always shifting."


    "This time, I think it will be an extreme change," Jay opined. "The chancellor and senators want to bring the entire universe together. They envision a world where daemeyri, mortals, seraphim, and mages can live with the knowledge of the other, and where your next-door neighbor could be a vampire. One massive empire to govern and ensure everyone is provided for."


    "You sound like you are in full support of it." I commented on his dreamy voice. He had basically repeated the entire propaganda.


    Jay nodded. "It''s what I said before about making sure that a child doesn''t have to grow up as I did. It shouldn''t ever be that way. I want to do something about that, and I believe the government wants to, too, with this paradise. And then I have been thinking about our futures, our roles, in this new society more than ever. Have you?"


    "I''ve been struggling and more focused on trying to control my magic to avoid shattering this entire universe, Jay. I really haven''t had the chance to."


    "Well, what do you think your role will be once you master your ability?"


    I threw a look at Sebastien, who was still in the deep discussion with the archangel. Becoming frustrated, I shook my head and said, "I don''t know, Jay. Where are you going with this?"


    "I think the chancellor has plans for you once you have mastered your abilities. He''s obviously keeping you close by his side for something, and he trusts you enough to assign you an undercover mission to infiltrate the Resistance¡ª"


    "Jay!" I hissed. Yet, it didn''t matter. We were in the middle of the other dancers, all of who were focused on whatever intimate conversations they were having with their respective partners. No one was paying us any attention. The nearest attendant was on the corner of the dance floor, struggling to balance an arrangement of wineglasses on the serving tray.


    Jay went on like he hadn''t heard my admonishment. "I really think that he is thinking about shaping you to be his second-in-command or perhaps his understudy to be the next chancellor."


    "Me?" I scoffed.


    "No, really. He''s really drawn to you. You were literally a nobody, and he could have let you rot in that prison cell until you took your last breath. And don''t look at me like that. You know it is true," Jay declared. "When we were with Galileo, it was impossible to imagine our future. If he was still alive, we would still be his puppets, because that was exactly what we were. He never let us in or told us any information unless it was important to the current mission. We could have tried to sit down and put the puzzle pieces together with everything we learned from the missions we went on. Who knows if we would have figured it out, though? He always separated us after the missions, as if he was trying to prevent us from ever piecing together his endgame. Our future with him was just going to be him telling us what we were doing next, yanking us out of our ''normal'' lives no matter if we had more important shit to do there. We would never have had stability. You knew it, too, or else you wouldn''t have quickly dismissed your ex-boyfriend''s marriage proposal."


    I bit my lip in disagreement. I had enjoyed my time as a part of Galileo''s makeshift family up until the last minute. I wouldn''t let Jay''s opinion taint the memory of it.


    "Here, though, with you as the chancellor''s second and me as a messenger sergeant," Jay paused as he collected his thoughts. "There''s stability here. You have your apartment at the castle. I can promote to lieutenant of the messenger core. And maybe we could explore what is between us, could see what it can become, what we can become. Together." An instantaneous panic suffocated my heart and strained my upper left chest muscles. For moments, I forgot how to breathe. Sweat formed between Jay''s and my intertwined hands. I tensed as if I was going to flee. Yet, it all made sense. Jay''s behavior throughout the night, his comments. My cynical side understood what he had seen tonight. He saw what he wanted the most in life in me, what had eluded him ever since he was a child. At his core, he wished for stability. Then he saw potential that I could rise to the top of the mage government. As a child who grew up in one of poorest sectors of the mage community, he was drawn to that potential power and influence, that potential wealth and notoriety. Jay squeezed my hand again to redirect my focus. "I''d like to take you out for dinner," Jay said.


    Despite my mouth becoming parched, I forced out, "Back to Hellions and Halos?"


    "No," Jay declared, almost offended. "There''s an amazing Brazilian steakhouse in the fifth arrondissement we could go to. Alone. No distractions."


    I hid my grimace. He had moved up from the fifteenth to the fifth ring. "Have you seen your parents since you returned?" I questioned instead. It was a curiosity I had been harboring since he had mentioned them over dinner.


    I felt Jay''s shoulders tense underneath my arms. "Why are you bringing them up?" His growl almost bit me.


    "Curiosity."


    "I don''t even know if they are alive." Jay''s lips pressed together.


    "Don''t you care to find out?"


    "No. I don''t know if they would like the strong person I''ve become. They always wanted me to follow the rules, to be weak. They lacked ambition; it was okay for them to stay where they were at, because they didn''t want to face any confrontation. They were spineless cowards," Jay growled.


    For a moment, I was left speechless over his attitude. "You''re in a mood. Why? Is it the mission you''ve been assigned to?" I prodded. Jay blinked in confusion. "You said something about it last night. You are being sent to a place you don''t want to go. Where is it?"


    A dark awareness flickered to his expression from the reminder. He became even more distant and despondent with my questioning. He shook his head and was saved from answering when Milo popped up over Jay''s shoulder. My feet halted, and I pulled partly out of Jay''s embrace, secretly happy that Milo had appeared to extract me from this unhappy situation. "It''s time," he advised. Time for the midnight ceremonies, he meant. A glance up at the balcony overlooking the ballroom revealed that the priestesses and priests were gathering in preparation for the performances.


    "We''ll meet up later," I promised Jay before I allowed Milo to lead me over to where the priestesses and priests were. Jay''s face acquired a forlorn expression as we departed. He followed us to the foot of the staircase, where he was not permitted access beyond the priests waiting at the bottom. They acted as a gate severing Jay from me, and I breathed a sigh of relief, of freedom. That freedom was short-lived, however, and when I ascended the last step into the atrium, I suddenly felt alone. There were about fifty different young adults waiting in various states of anxiety. Sebastien had mentioned something about how the main performance honored the mage genesis and featured the Divine. The young adults were dressed up, reflecting these different characters. Some wore outfits denoting them as daemeyri characters.


    There were a couple of priests in maroon robes posted at the staircase, gatekeepers for the ritualistic performance. Three other priests in navy robes were organizing the mass of the chosen ones. Me, they placed at the end of the line. I eyed the male in front of me with interest, wondering if he was to be my partner in the Sol and Luna dance. With his sandy blonde hair and broad, stocky body, he could play the part of the masculine sun well enough. Still, he didn''t look like he could be older than eighteen. He gave me a nod of recognition when I lined up behind him, and then ignored me. My stomach sunk. Did Sebastien set me up for failure in pairing me with this eighteen-year-old when the chemistry between us was probably lacking? I had done enough partner work in the past to know that was the element that made a dance exceptional. My fingernails dug into my palms. I considered the possible ways of escaping the humiliation I would face from my part of the performance. I was a perfectionist; I usually practiced nonstop before a recital. The performance tonight was supposed to be organic, but I was not comfortable with it.


    Some of my tension in my shoulders evaporated when the priests placed a short girl clad in black robes in between the male and me. The robe''s cowl was pulled up to shield her hair and face. A delicate, jeweled crown wrapped around her skull and held the cowl in place. She shifted on her feet, anxious as the rest of us were.


    The priests didn''t put anyone else at the back of the line. It only made me wonder about my partner and where he was. Who he was.


    It took quite some time for the priests in the ballroom to transform the guests into an audience. The orchestra alerted the maroon-robe clad priests at the top of the stairs of the performance¡¯s beginning. The first three actors were directed to begin their descent. All were male. Their costumes lacked shirts, revealing well-toned torsos. One was manipulating a small flame in between his hands. Another had wings so realistic, I had to do a double take. The boy lacked the seraphim¡¯s ethereal glow; I identified him as a mage. Had he then used magic to create his wings? The third was normal. From where I stood, I was able to lean over the balcony and view the performance from above. It distracted from me the anxiety quickening my blood.


    I had never learned about the mage genesis; it wasn''t deemed an important lesson. A priestess stood out of sight down in the ballroom and acted as the narrator for the performance. Her pleasant voice carried loudly over the soft, accompanying music. "Many, many, many millennia ago, in Anavrina, in our paradise, gods, seraphim, and mortals lived in unity. Every living thing blossomed in this paradise. Our gods reigned over it, governing the seraphim and mortals alike. They valued knowledge and omnipotence above everything else, understanding both the victories and consequences that knowledge could produce. To maintain a balance, they created the mortals, who were supposed to possess an innocent, kind nature. The mortals'' only task was to live in innocence and ignorance, which would thus produce happiness. The seraphim were tasked to guard and protect the paradise from the evils outside of it.


    "It''s rumored that paradise was a land of ice and fire, a land where massive waterfalls and fields of wildflowers decorated the land. There were stunning vistas surrounding the city, and natural springs to soak in when the day''s work was done. When night fell, the heavens put on a show for those down below. For many eras, the paradise breathed serenity and order.


    "Until a sentient evil bypassed the seraphim and their security, infiltrating Anavrina secretly."


    This time, the priests released two innocent-looking teenagers¡ªone female, one male¡ªto begin their descent. Efforts had been made to keep their beauty natural. The female had a sheen of shiny brunette hair cascading down her back. Her makeup was restricted; no eyeliner, mascara, or lipstick had been applied to her face. She wore a simple one-shoulder light blue dress. Her male companion was clad in a white shirt and tan pants. Both were barefoot. They were followed by a third individual. His outfit covered his entire body. Every inch of skin was concealed by the black material. A black mask completed the ensemble.


    "It didn''t take long for the evil to stumble upon its first opportunity to destroy the paradise," the narrator continued. "Two mortals, one female, one male, sat in the evil''s path, enjoying an innocent picnic together. It is said that the picnic was enhanced by their flowing laughter. That laughter ended when the evil interrupted the picnic. It sat down with the two mortals and preached rhetoric to them. It didn''t take long at all for it to convince the male and female of their god-induced ignorance, and how that kept them at a disadvantage as gods ruled over them. The two became enraged over the invisible chains the gods had restrained them with, and they started to lust for power. At the evil''s encouragement, they sought the long-denied knowledge at the gods'' compound. It was easy to locate and access, and for a night, they filled their heads with the knowledge of the gods. The night after that, they returned with a couple of their friends. This cycle continued for a week until the entire mortal population knew more than they should.


    "This threw the entire paradise off balance.


    "The gods noticed, for how could they not? The weather patterns were disrupted. For an entire month, it stormed and caused flooding throughout their paradise. After that, a volcano that was believed to be dormant erupted suddenly. Lava ran through their city, demolishing parts of it. The stars fell out of the sky, creating craters and disrupting the waterfalls. A plague threatened to destroy all life.


    "Their paradise crumbling around them, the gods were forced to end the mortal existence in the realm to rectify the damages. There were two options for the mortals: exile or extermination. These two options divided the gods into two fractions, two fractions that fought a war on paradise''s soil. War raged for centuries, goaded on by the evil on the outside. The war eventually ended, as all wars do, without a clear victory. The gods who were proponents of the mortals'' exile from paradise left in search of another world, a world where the mortals would be free to pursue knowledge and prosper from it. They called themselves the Divine. A line of supporters followed these gods and the remaining mortals to this new world, leaving the original gods, the Canon of Gods, to mend their damaged paradise alone. Some seraphim were loyal to the mortal sympathizers, and they too followed the path of exile, never looking back."


    The priests gestured a sizable portion of the line before me forward to enter the ballroom. Soon, I was only a couple of people away from descending myself. As the new group entered the ballroom, I learned they were representing the mortal sympathizer gods, the gods whom the mages now worshipped and had entire priesthoods dedicated to. Asiasi led the procession, wearing a crown of silver and gold. The young boy representing him had his skin covered with temporary tattoos. The tattoos were a swirl of design on his limbs. "Each of the Divine acquired personalities to encourage the mortals towards enlightenment. There was Asiasi, the leader of the exile movement; Vollioppe, the god of battle; Andralyn, the goddess of knowledge; Zore, who became the god of love; Lexus, the seeker of justice and truth; Reynn, the Goddess of Luck; Sereniah, the keeper of light and serenity; Akureyri, the goddess of the stars; Aerie, the goddess of air; Hali, the goddess of the sea; Mica, the goddess of the earth; and finally, Pyra, the goddess of flame. They governed earth as well as they could for several millennia. Life was created and flourished in their wake as the gods constructed, as the mortals compiled as much knowledge as they could, and as the seraphim protected everyone from threats from hell."


    Leaning over the balcony as much as I dared, I saw that the actors portraying these mortal-loving gods were distributing small tokens to the audience. The male playing Vollioppe handed out shiny arrowheads. The girl portraying Mica had small pebbles of gold in her basket, while Sereniah was bestowing threads of lavender upon the people she chose.


    The gatekeeper priests beckoned four more actors down the staircase. These actors demonstrated their abilities as they descended. "The Divine formed relationships with the mortals, and as a result, children were born. These children had power to manipulate the earth''s elements. They were classified as mages. The Divine separated these children from the mortals and taught them how to control their abilities and instilled their personal values into them. Armes took some and taught them everything he knew about warfare. Asiasi instructed his on leadership principles. Andralyn instilled her followers with a passion for knowledge. Together, they gave these children a new home: Astraera. The division between the mages and mortals broadened, as the Divine believed the mortals were better off without their constant interference. The mortals prospered: they built their own cities and inspired their own culture. New languages developed.


    "Yet, even in this world, tiny remnants of evil slipped in. Demons roamed the land that the gods had conquered. These demons were clever and wore mortal faces to cloak themselves. Before the seraphim could discover and vanquish them, they mated with mages. Magic surrounded the mating and produced a different kind of offspring: daemeyri. The first faeries, vampires, lycans, mermaids, elves, and therianthropes were born. Not knowing what to do with them, the gods decided to leave them with the mortals. There was a lot of opposition to allowing them in Astraera, which had been constructed for the gods'' pure offspring. The daemeyri were unnatural, unintentional. They were still too new to protest and learned how to build their own communities within the mortal world." The actors dressed up as the six different sects of daemeyri were next to enter the ballroom. The mermaid actor''s skirt was constructed out of simmering sequins to represent a long tail. She had diamond starfish earrings in her ears. The vampire actor had charmed his irises into a reddish tint that was vivid enough to see across the room. For the lycan, the committee had chosen the eighteen-year-old I''d feared was Sol.


    "For millennia, life flourished. Life flowed on, mimicking a river.


    "Yet, even gods must move on, and the Divine, as one, decided it was time to return to their stars and extinguish their ties to the mortal land. When they had done enough to ensure the livelihood of the mages and the mortals, they disappeared without providing notice of their intent.


    "Without that structure, the organized government the gods had created for the mages crumbled. For centuries afterwards, the mages lived without purpose. They fought amongst themselves and somewhat regretted their ancestors'' decision to desert Anavrina. The mortals'' progress halted as well, becoming stale without the gods'' distant inspiration. The seraphim separated from the mages and retreated into their own territory. It wasn''t until a hooded, mysterious female appeared in the chaos that they reacquired purpose." The girl in front of me, the one in the black cloak covering her face and the jewels crowning her head, was prompted to descend. As the only one left, I waited for my signal. I rolled my shoulders to relax. Breathe, I reminded myself.


    "The female was a prophet who had time traveled to their era, or so she claimed. She described a world in the far distant future where the entire universe was once again united: the Canon of the Gods, the mages, the mysterious seraphim, the mortals, and even the daemeyri. No one believed her, not until she produced proof in the form of visions. She took the mage elders, including the Sovereign, and showed them her visions, her memories of what paradise lingered in the mages'' future. The elders were awestruck, enchanted even. She gave them several leather-bound books: her diaries, she claimed. In humble speech, she claimed the books were her instructions to utopia. The mortals were the only ones who could get everyone to paradise. Yet, they could be inspired towards that path by the mages. The instructions would describe how. She left the mages shocked and amazed. After her departure, it was decided amongst the mage elders that they would take the path to paradise''s return. This prophet has since been known as Aurora in mage history, and whose accepted appearances lay scattered across history.


    "A new government was soon established, following Aurora¡¯s instructions. There was a royal family elected to maintain order; a chancellor and a board of senators were to act as checks and balances against the dynasty. The strongest of the mages were assigned to building a castle to manage mage affairs, which was called the Sistine. The most astute were sent to the mortal''s world to learn of current affairs, while strategists were provided an airy chamber to plot their way to the paradise Aurora claimed was in their distant future. A select number of mages, called muses, were chosen to influence the mortals towards Aurora¡¯s path. Wars broke out because of their influence, and from them, peace and treaties. Leaders were inspired to step into the spotlight. Artists were inspired to create. Mortal cities were established, and some of them fell. A muse convinced a select number of people that it was possible to travel to the moon. Another muse pointed scientists toward medical advancements to prolong mortal lives.


    "Thus, the mages were born with a purpose, that which to unite the universe once more under a single paradise. Aurora had warned the path was long, very long, and that an end would not be in sight for what might seem like an infinity. Still, the mages were determined to reach it. Those first sets of mages were conquered by death. Their children, and then their children, took the burden of destiny upon their shoulders. Today, we are still searching for that promised paradise. It''s closer than any of us really thought, and it might even arrive in our lifetime." The priestess''s tone carried a finality with it. Her monologue was completed. If her tone had not conveyed that, then the music providing a background melody did. The orchestra ended on one final whole note.


    Silence reigned downstairs after a small scattering of footsteps. The actors were vacating the spotlight.


    I exhaled against my pounding heart. My gaze drifted towards the priests guarding the staircase. We waited.


    "Yet, there is a story more ancient, and that''s how magic came to be." A different voice echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a male one. The ballroom''s acoustics made his voice sound majestic. My toes curled and my hands formed fists at my side from the anticipation. "Our storytellers claim that two forces were existent at the very beginning: one light, one dark. One quicksilver, one sulfur. One feminine, one masculine. It is believed that when these forces finally met and married, the first Divine was created. It is a union that is most revered today, and many scholars are in awe of the deep harmony between these two opposites. Yet, harmony was not there initially, despite the explosive chemistry. It was the eruption upon their union that led to the Divines'' creation. We all now stand here, blessed, because of it."


    The priest closest to me gave me the tiniest of nods just as the violins and pianos in the orchestra united to form a light melody. The MC priest down below stopped talking, his narrative finished. I took another deep breath and forced my legs into movement. Suddenly, I was unstable, certain that I would tumble down the staircase and crash at the very bottom in a pool of humiliation. I tried to focus on my posture and entrance, keeping my pace slow and steady. My stomach was in knots, and I regretted even taking a bite from the seven-course dinner I had hours ago. I regretted those two glasses of champagne I had, as my mind seemed addled because of them. I regretted agreeing to Sebastien''s offer. I didn''t want this spotlight.


    At the bottom of the staircase, I hesitated. All the masquerade guests formed a human barrier around me. I was standing in a makeshift arena. If I wanted to escape, I would have to retreat the way I had come¡ªif the priests had not blocked that way as well. Sebastien was standing near the staircase with Senator Alistair, Senator Wyn, and the mortal Rafael, the President of Chile. I sought encouragement from Sebastien. He gave me an acknowledging nod that failed to do anything to quell my nerves. Beyond him, I saw the seraphim. Evangeline was quite easy to spot in her rainbow outfit. She smiled at me, although she appeared both apprehensive and curious. Jay was further down, standing by himself. He had a grim expression on his face while his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. He didn''t want me out here in the spotlight any more than I wanted to be. The attendants had faded to the back. I thought I could make out Macaila''s messy hair from where I was.


    My mouth suddenly parched and my vision blurry, I finally braved a glance at the only other person in the arena with me.


    My heart stopped beating.

 THIRTY-EIGHT

    Kyrian, still in his bronze mask, stood in the middle of the arena.


    No, I cried over the realization. He was to be the sun to my moon, the sulfur to my quicksilver, the masculinity to my femininity. My eyes wide, my guts twisting from the betrayal, I looked toward Sebastien for salvation. He pushed his chin forward. Go on, he seemed to encourage.


    Kyrian wasted no time in approaching me. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me in close to his chest. My own arms only had one place to go: around Kyrian''s shoulders. I was so uncoordinated, it felt like my bones and muscles had been replaced by coal. The orchestra sprung to life to assist us in our performance. Its boisterous melody cleverly contained a darker undertone.


    Once he had me in his grip, he turned and spun me furiously. There was not any transition to the rapid, angry movement. It left me no choice but to become submissive to his power and energy. My feet automatically followed his lead; he was so sure-footed that it was all I could do to keep upright. It was like he had rehearsed a dance I didn¡¯t know any of the steps to. I stumbled to keep up with him. Kyrian was surprisingly experienced and was able to circumvent the error''s consequence by forcing me into a twirl before bending me over his arm. There was so much momentum behind it that one of my legs lifted five feet off the ground. For the couple of seconds my back was braced against his arm, I attempted to catch my breath. I hadn''t caught it before he threw me upwards and waltzed across the floor. It made me lightheaded.


    It occurred to me he was the predator, and I was the prey.


    Being this close to him, I could smell his earthy scent. I could feel his sturdy arms around my body, guiding me, and his breath against my cheek and neck. His breath was audible against my ear. I could taste his sweat that had formed as he exerted himself. I could peer into his copper eyes, something I had never done before. I had grown so accustomed to his invisibility that seeing him now in person was bizarre¡ªeven if his face was still concealed by that bronze mask.


    Then our dance changed. It might have been because of my conscious slowly realizing whom I was dancing with, and the surge of resistance that came with it. I was ashamed of allowing him to pull me in whichever direction he wanted. Or it might have been because of his own surge of fury exploding out of the cage he''d locked in. Or it might have been a combination of both. The tension between us was boiling to a feverish pitch. Words didn''t need to be exchanged for us to remember the mutual hatred between us.


    I was a skilled enough dancer to assume the lead at the next opportune moment. That insurgency caused Kyrian to stumble. I felt the pressure of his hands against my lower back as he momentarily relied on me to find his balance again. I heard his surprised inhale of breath.


    My pride was quickly extinguished a few steps after I gained domination. Kyrian released his hold on me, and milliseconds later, his hands were pushing against my shoulders, thus sending me teetering backwards. I wobbled in my heels. My abs strained against the force of gravity that threatened to send me sprawling to the ground. I maintained my balance long enough for Kyrian to grab ahold of me again. In the effort to work against the momentum against me and keep me off-balanced, he spun me around. I instinctively lifted my legs up so that they were parallel to the ground. There was nothing to do in this position to regain power.


    I waited, and the moment he stopped spinning, I acted. I tore out of his arms, spun around his back, and instinctively knew that he would be waiting when I reached his other side. His arms grabbed me, but before he could assume control, I already had it.


    For seconds, or minutes, it was a battle for control between us. Both of us desired to lead, and it could have ended up with toes being stepped on, but our shared experience and ability to predict the other''s move almost made it seem like it was choreographed. Our bodies were wired to the furious melodies the orchestra produced, and in turn, the orchestra was connected to what we were feeling right at that moment. Rage and loathing exploded between us. Loving, tender gazes had no place in this dance where murderous glares and snarls reigned. Gracefulness was exchanged for forcefulness. It was a fight masquerading as a dance. This was not supposed to be appealing; it was war.


    Kyrian threw me in between his legs, and I slid across the floor before springing up. My ballet arabesques and developpes were more like roundhouse kicks and jumping front kicks in Kyrian''s direction. He disguised his blocks with feigned grace as he yanked me in. I was skilled enough to relax into the resulting spin and then the lift putting me above his head. My body was sensing his every movement and prepared retaliation. It was how I knew he would let me fall from that lift above his head. I was able to execute a backflip and land on both of my feet. Yet, the momentum didn''t release me, and I struggled to maintain my grace by executing several more backflips. I landed against the pillar with my hand curling around a decorative bo staff that had been a part of an abstract decoration. Instinctively, I withdrew the staff from its vase.


    Even though it had been years since I had handled one of my favorite weapons, my body responded, and the muscle memory twitched into place. It reacted to that smoothness in my grip. I paused after I eased into a sideways leaning squat stance my body knew quite well from Galileo''s lessons. The staff was elevated above my head and parallel to the ground. The facade of our dance was over; that sense of propriety had shattered between us. Our hatred was escalated to the point that it ripped the curtains of the facade down to reveal what this dance really was. It was our souls attempting to conquer the other.


    Kyrian stood a couple of yards away from me. He was wary as he waited for me to finish the fight. His feet were separated in a warrior''s stance. His jaw was set, his eyes were narrowed. The move was mine to make.


    I erupted into a sprint. At the pivotal moment, I dug the staff into the ground and leapt up. My forward momentum kept propelling me forward. It was my intention to slam into Kyrian''s chest heel first. At the last moment, he pivoted away. As soon as I landed on my feet, I brought my staff up before me to defend my most vital organs. Kyrian''s retreat had put him within reach of another piece of decoration using the staffs as its principal component. Not to be unarmed against me, Kyrian yanked one staff from the vase. From the smooth way he brought it in front of himself, I knew he had been trained in the art. This time, it was he who moved first, prepared with a combination of moves that I had to fend quickly against.


    The staffs added another dimension to our battle. We weren''t attempting to harm another, not in front of the masquerade spectators. It was more like a battle for supremacy. At first, our staffs slammed against each other in the deadly combination of assault and defense until one of us could outmaneuver the other and pose the staff''s point directly at a vital point of the body, such as the throat, head, and knees. It was a declaration of skill, and I was forced to admit that Kyrian had been well-trained; he could keep up with me.


    At one point, we warily circled each other. The adrenaline in my body was making me aware of things I probably wouldn''t have been aware of before. My knees were slightly bent as I side-stepped along in an invisible arc. The smoothness of the staff in my hands. The intense focus both of us had; neither of our gazes shifting away. We were at an impasse.


    Kyrian swung the staff around in a variance of a form; he was still far enough away from me that none of his strikes were meant to connect. His steps took him around the arc of an invisible circle; I moved in sync with him and kept to the opposite side of the circle. When he spun his staff around in quick rotations, I was careful to keep my eyes focused on his core and not allow myself to be distracted by the staff.


    He made an ostentatious show when he suddenly jumped high into the air. His precision was great enough for him to slam the point of the staff against the ground. It bounced right up into his waiting grip. The movement brought him into striking range, and I was ready with my staff raised above my head to defend against his as it was brought down against my skull. My arms vibrated from the shock of the strike. The staff held firm. Stunned, I stared at him. Had I not blocked, that powerful strike would have given me a concussion.


    Kyrian retreated to the other side of our battle circle after his blocked strike. He caught my wide-eye gaze and shrugged, as if to say, I knew you''d protect yourself.


    I brought my staff down to my side. I knew this game. It was one of both intimidation and performance, and Kyrian had just finished his side of it. I waited until the music had started a new verse before I started. My staff flipped into my opposite hand before I started moving. It had been years, but my body still remembered the form''s graceful movements. I spun the bo around. When I was near enough, Kyrian defended against my strikes. One, two, three strikes, letting him get accustomed to the quick pattern before I feinted. I guided the staff to the back of his extended elbow and forced it forward.


    The ground vibrated underneath my feet as he flung himself into a somersault from the momentum.


    I backed away as he maneuvered himself into a lunge position, facing me with a glare.


    It was my turn to shrug to say, You''ll be fine.


    Our staffs collided once more.


    It was probably difficult to tell who was blocking and who was striking; we were moving too fast around one another and all our moves blended into the next one. Somehow, the orchestra''s music complimented our battle, and it produced musical riffs that mirrored our fury. The only pauses in our fight came when Kyrian maneuvered his staff in such a way that he used it as leverage against mine. It became a battle of strength that I ultimately lost. He forced me down to my knees. My arms were quivering from the amount of force he was using against me; my jaw was locked in a grimace. I stared up into his eyes, which I could see through the cutouts in his mask. There was not any pity residing in his gaze.


    However, he released the pressure against my staff and took a step back. Neither of us had to say it: he had won that competition. Agitated and grunting, I shot to my feet. I bit my bottom lip to erase the grimace and humiliation of my defeat. To release the tension that still lingered in my arms, I rolled my shoulders. I inhaled one last time before I seized dominancy. I would not hold back, as he hadn''t. I rushed at him. When I was about two feet away, Kyrian''s staff came to sweep my feet out from underneath me. I jumped just in time to avoid it banging against my ankles. Once again, our staffs met in a battle of fury, creating our own music. This time, my grimace was from determination.


    I was so connected to Kyrian and his movements that I sensed when he was about to sweep me off my feet again. This time, I allowed his staff to connect against my ankles and work with gravity to propel meto the ground. As soon as I was there, I twisted onto my back, wrapped my legs around his, and yanked. His staff clattered against the ground as he was brought down. I detangled my legs from his, sat up, and sprung into a lunge¡ªall in a fury of motion.


    The tip of my staff pressed against Kyrian''s throat as those wide copper eyes stared up at me with wonder.


    A burst of applause erupted from the staged audience. It was enough to disrupt my focus, and I stumbled back. The audience became a blur of faces. The ballroom amplified their applause. It burned my ears. My face was flushed from my shame and the exertion of battle. The quick realization hung in my mind: I had allowed my emotions to control me and thus ruined the tradition behind this dance.


    Reluctantly, I released my hold on my staff and allowed it to clatter against the ground. I sought retreat from the stares following me. The gathered mass by the service hallway divided into two as I rushed towards escape. They gave me a wide berth, as if I was dangerous. I waited for Sebastien to call my name, to demand that I stop so that he could remonstrate me in front of everyone. There was nothing, and I got to the service hallway unmolested. I went directly towards one of the windows, placed my hands on either side of the sill, and hung my head. My breathing was still erratic, as was my heartbeat.


    "You''re just going to run out of there after you lost control?"


    My spine straightened with discord. It was a voice that I did not want to hear. "If I had lost control, you''d be dead," I growled. Turning around, I saw him there with his masked face. Kyrian was blocking the route back into the ballroom. Alone with him, overwhelmed by my shame, he was a bit intimidating. His costume designer hadn''t spared any expense.


    "Why didn''t you? You''ve killed enough people by now that my death shouldn''t matter to you. London. Berlin. Wasn''t it Beijing just last night?"


    "Did you come out here for any other reason other than to try to make me feel more ashamed than I already do about everything?" I inquired with a snarl. "If you hate me so much, then why did you even come here in the first place, knowing I would be here? We both know that you don''t have the power to terminate me, and the people who do are standing in the way. They want me alive for some reason and will not allow anyone to assassinate me¡ªeven if it is made to look like an accident. So why didn''t you just maintain your distance tonight and go on like I didn''t exist?" As I spoke, my voice became more heated with passion. Every muscle in my body was rigid, as if I had just been struck by a million bolts of electricity. I locked eyes with Kyrian as I advanced on him. There was a swirl of hatred and disgust residing in his gaze, along with something else I couldn''t quite place.


    Kyrian''s body trembled with fury. Before he could answer my inquiries, someone else intervened. "Is everything all right?" Jay''s shadow appeared in the ballroom''s wide doorway, backlit by the bright candlelight coming from the ballroom. He took another step into the hallway, and the shadows disappeared from around him.


    The seraph tossed him a snarl, pivoted, and rushed through the doorway Jay had just vacated. I watched him disappear into the shadows.


    "Well, he¡¯s a very nice guy," Jay commented sarcastically. "How are you? Are you okay?" His hand landed on my shoulder, meant to help me relax. However, it did the opposite. It wasn''t the time to comfort me.


    "I don''t like him," I snarled.


    Jay removed his hand from my shoulder as if it burnt him. "Really? I would have thought otherwise." Jay was not teasing.


    "Why would you say that?"


    Jay shrugged and looked away, unwilling to meet my gaze. "There is tension between you two."


    "How observant you are," I insulted. "He thinks he''s better than everyone else because he''s the prodigal son and can''t make any mistakes. I''d love to go and shove his face into horse shit so he''ll be brought down to our level."


    "No, it isn''t that." Jay shook his head. I stared at Jay, incredulous, waiting for him to explain himself. "It just seemed like you were a couple of seconds away from tearing each other''s clothes off and fornicating right there on the dance floor."


    I blinked in disbelief. This time, he was not afraid to meet and hold my gaze with the challenge. "I don''t know what you think you saw, but I despise him, and that would never happen in a million years," I hissed.


    "Have you seen the way you two interact with each other?" Jay challenged. "It didn¡¯t seem like it. There''s passion there. Too much, I think." Jay shifted on his feet and turned to look back into the ballroom.


    Incredulous, I asked, "Are you jealous?" Jay''s eyes shot to the archway separating the ballroom and service hallway in confirmation. "Why would you be jealous of him? He means nothing to me, Jay. If I never see him again, it would be the greatest thing in the world. You mean more to me. Sixteen years of friendship isn''t something I''m going to forget."


    "He rescued you from the jail. He can keep up with you. He''s a seraph prince," Jay muttered. He didn''t need to say the rest of what he was thinking. I left you in your cell. I would have let you spend the rest of your life in prison. I''m nothing. Just a messenger.


    "He''s a fuckturd," I responded quickly, earning a smile from Jay. His body language relaxed, and he slowly turned towards me again. Still, I didn''t want to finish the evening dealing with his constant peculiar emotional state. Whatever opinions I had were silenced in the effort to calm whatever insecurities Jay was carrying around. My hand slipped down his arm until I met his hand and intertwined my fingers in his. "Want to see if we can find any tequila or something?" I suggested. If I had to ask Cassiah to raid the shelves for me, I would.


    Jay''s face brightened at the suggestion. I let him lead me out of the hallway. A couple of glances were thrown in our direction. The masquerade guests had returned to enjoying themselves now that the performances were finished. The dance floor was filled to the brim with dancers while even more guests were socializing around the perimeter of the room. I let out a sigh of relief over no longer being in the spotlight.


    We had just passed through the threshold and paused to scope out the floor when a rowdy mass of four masked guests bumped into us roughly. Jay and I were ripped apart. For seconds, it was a jumbled mess of crimsons, satin, ostentatious headpieces and masks, and elbows. I was lost in the pandemonium. I was pushed backwards off-balance, and teetering against gravity and my high heels, I was caught by a pair of powerful arms. Breathless, I stared up at the enchantingly beautiful green eyes. For seconds, I was captivated by the charm and intimacy in his gaze. My heartbeat spiked against my chest.


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    The spell was broken when I felt the tension of my necklace''s chain against the back of my neck before the chain suddenly snapped. I caught a glance of a hand encircling the sapphire gem as it was pulling away. The owner of that hand was spinning around and darting into the service hallway, the train of her crimson satin dress following her on the floor. The man who had grabbed and balanced me released me before darting after her and the two others.


    I wobbled on my feet, still reeling from what had just happened. Suddenly, my chest felt light, and I missed the pressure of the sapphire gem resting against it. Jay squeezed my upper arm. He had scratches running across his face and some reddening near his eye, as if he had been hit during the scuffle. His eyes searched me for any visible injuries, just as I searched for more on him. "Did they hurt you?" he forcibly inquired when he didn''t see anything.


    I shook my head, scrambling for breath. "They took the necklace."


    By this point, Sebastien was hurrying to us. From the concern in his expression to the soldiers that were assembling behind him, he had seen exactly what happened. The soldiers brushed past us and over the threshold into the hallway. I could hear the patter of their feet chasing after the thieves. Sebastien stayed with us. He examined me, assessing the damage done during the mugging. I quickly advised him about the necklace.


    Sebastien''s expression darkened. "They''ll get it back. They know this castle better than the thieves, who will be arrested and charged for this."


    "Why would they come after me?" I asked. "There are a lot of other jewels being flaunted around here tonight." One in particular rested on a woman''s finger and consisted of a seven-carat diamond that was very difficult to miss with the way she had been throwing her hand around.


    "You weren''t exactly keeping a low profile out there," Jay muttered, earning my glare.


    Sebastien ignored him. "It''s a very important piece. I didn''t think anyone here would know its significance and be stupid enough to steal it right off you. Did you recognize them?"


    I frowned over the question. Everything had happened too quickly that I didn''t have the opportunity to assess very much. Now, however, I couldn''t shake the feeling of that odd familiarity I got from all four of them. I tried to focus on the flashes of the mugging my memory retained; all my mind did was return me to that memory of being held by one of the male parties as he prevented me from falling. I was forced to tell Sebastien that I didn''t recognize the perpetrators and admitted to not feeling confident about my memory. Sebastien looked disappointed by my honesty.


    Sebastien encouraged Jay and me to enjoy the rest of the event as he ushered us away from the hallway. It was impossible to do as he suggested, and I found my gaze tracking him down often. Whatever he was doing, it was not enjoying the masquerade himself. He lingered on the perimeter of the ballroom and had several private discussions with Spymaster Rixsyn and Archangel Emerson. At one point during the night, the spymaster returned to Sebastien and pressed something into the chancellor''s hand. From the glimpses of blue I could see shining through the gaps in Sebastien''s fingers, I knew they had retrieved the sapphire. However, Sebastien didn''t look pleased, even though his property had been returned. I could only assume that the perpetrators had escaped arrest.


    The masquerade fell on the longest night of the year, and thus lasted from sunset to sunrise. It had been one arduous endurance marathon, lasting for about fourteen hours. Exhaustion had sneakingly cast its net over the festivities. The dancing had stopped hours ago, and more people had taken to slouching around the tables. The attendants had switched to distributing coffee right around the time that the dancing had trickled off. Those who had consumed too much alcohol had passed out; there were several bodies slumped over tables or huddled in a corner somewhere.


    Jay and I were reclining on the bottom steps of the staircase together when Sebastien approached us. "Do you mind if I talk to Briara for a couple of minutes?" Sebastien''s inquiry was just a polite facade. All of us knew it. There was no way that Jay would deny the chancellor anything. He quickly scrambled to a standing position and muttered something about grabbing some coffee for us before scurrying away. With a sigh, I pushed myself to my feet.


    "Did you get the necklace back?" I questioned.


    "I did," Sebastien confirmed, his tone grim. "It''s locked back in the vault in my office, where no one will be able to steal it."


    My arms crossed in front of my body, and I shifted on my feet. "I apologize for being so vulnerable that the offenders thought I would make suitable prey." I knew better. "I''m also sorry for making a mockery of the performance." I knew better with that, too; I had been taught how to control my emotions, how to compartmentalize.


    Sebastien glanced at me with surprise. "You didn''t make a mockery of it; you did exactly what you needed to do. The female and male are supposed to be belligerent towards each other, and thus explode together. Tonight¡¯s performance was one of the best we''ve seen for some time." I stared at him, bewildered. I had almost pulverized Kyrian''s windpipe with the staff. Sebastien went on. "As for the theft, it''s not your fault," Sebastien said grimly. "I wish I knew if the perpetrators understood exactly what they were taking when they took it. It scares me wondering if the Resistance has that knowledge."


    "You think they were here tonight, the Resistance?"


    Sebastien''s gaze was distant as he assessed the ballroom and its loitering guests. "I think there is a mole in the government." Sebastien breathed in deeply and then released the breath. "Yet, that isn''t what I wanted to speak to you about." He dug into his pocket quickly before producing a small black velvet bag. He unceremoniously handed the bag to me. Manipulating the outside, I felt three small, pliable oblong entities lingering at the bottom. My gaze questioning, Sebastien explained, "Happy Birthday. I hope there is enough in there to send you to the sanctuary. I want you to see if you can find a solution to your problem, especially with what happened yesterday in Beijing."


    My first thought wasn''t on destroying the praesidium, it was that with Sebastien''s little gift, I could finally see Hawk again. I kept my elation concealed, however, under the dark cloud that came with the gift''s purpose. If my theory was correct, and Hawk was the praesidium, then I would have to destroy Hawk to prevent more massacres. Standing there, masquerading as Adriana Penderyn, I realized I didn''t know if I was quite ready for that. My hand curled over the velvet bag. "Thank you" was all I said.


    "It isn''t much, but I hope it will get you there to do what you need to."


    "And if I need to go there more than once?" I questioned against the hitch in my throat.


    "I hope you don''t have to." Sebastien''s tone was already layered with his adamant refusal. "Take time over the winter break to do what you need to do."


    About twenty minutes before the sun was about to rise, people grabbed their jackets and headed out onto the veranda to find a spot to observe the phenomenon. The ambience was more subdued because of the exhaustion everyone was experiencing. Couples snuggled with each other as they gazed over the descending arrondissements of Astraera. Jay stood close enough behind me that I could feel his warmth. Despite his talk of wanting to take me out on a date and our sexual rendezvous, he didn''t try to pull me into him and wrap his arms around me. Still, his stance was protective enough that it radiated a warning to everyone else to stay away. There was no need; I hadn''t seen Kyrian since he had stormed out of the hallway. In that little bubble Jay created, we watched as the sun peeked out of the horizon. I smiled as the guests cheered over the first sign of daylight and the purpling skies.


    The skies were turning bright baby blue, and the sun had crusted the mountaintop when we dissembled. There was a mass exodus towards the grand staircase. I told Jay that I had invited Cassiah and Macaila back to my apartment and suggested he find his peers on the force and celebrate with them. Disappointment flared across Jay''s expression. It was a blessing he left without arguing. I drifted towards the doors to the kitchen.


    The ballroom was fairly empty by the time the attendants were dismissed. They filed out of the kitchen in twos and threes, until finally, Cass and Macaila shuffled out. I pushed off the wall I had been leaning against and waited for them to emerge. Cass was a couple of steps ahead of Macaila, who slowed down as if she was reluctant. Yet, the antagonism that had been there at the beginning of the festivities had disappeared. Either she was feeling the effects of exhaustion from the long night, or Cassiah had reminded her I was not the enemy.


    "You didn''t have to wait; you''ve had a long night." Cassiah told me as he approached. One of his eyebrows lifted; apparently, I had been the topic of discussion amongst the attendants. If not for my performance, then for being the mugging victim.


    "Not any longer than yours," I countered. My gaze shifted towards Macaila. Hers met mine with unveiled embarrassment and shame. It made my heart twist just from seeing it.


    "You looked very pretty tonight," Macaila commented.


    I smiled thinly. "It''s the dress. I''ll let you try it on when we get to my apartment."


    "Now?" Macaila¡¯s eyes illuminated brightly.


    "Of course. It beats walking all the way back to your homes," I pointed out. Cassiah and Macaila exchanged a look. I held up my ultimate trump card: a bag of food and bottle of vodka. "I''ve managed to save some of the food tonight, and you both can sleep in my bed. I''ll take the couch."


    Macaila''s wide and eager eyes confirmed what I had thought: that the attendants were not allowed to sample the food. "How did you get that?" she asked.


    "Let''s just say kindness can achieve a lot," I confided. It hadn''t been too difficult to ask the kitchen manager for a couple of large servings of everything she still had leftover. "So does that mean my bribe worked and you''re coming back with me?" I smiled.


    "I''m in. I''ve been famished for hours!" Cass exclaimed.


    Macaila nodded. "Absolutely."


    This was the first time I had ever invited someone back to my apartments. I wasn''t even sure if it was allowed. The soldiers stationed along the way gave us a curious passing look; even though Macaila and Cass had changed out of their uniforms, their regular clothing still projected they were outsiders. From the way their gazes scanned around them as we walked through the castle, I figured this was the first time they had been this far into the castle. Whatever exhaustion hovered around them from working the entire night dissipated into excitement and a bounce was added to their gait. Their voices echoed in the hallways.


    I laughed at them when we reached my apartment and they ran through it, testing all the upgrades they had only dreamt about. Macaila sprawled out on my bed, immediately falling in love with the down comforter and feathered mattress. The bed couldn''t contain her for long, and she was in the bathroom, hitting all the buttons. She was amazed with the plenitude of options available for a simple shower, and it wasn''t long before she was in the shower, experimenting with the various options. I changed into a simple pair of pajamas and laid out my dress on the bed for her to try on after she was done.


    Cassiah was more interested in the erions throughout the front room and the entertainment options they provided. Born into the seventeenth arrondissement, he seemed more amazed with the living conditions than Macaila, as if this was the first time he was ever experiencing them. Again, I was filled with pity, and moved to tell him he could stay here whenever he wanted.


    Cass turned his back to me and pretended to be tinkering with one of the erion contraptions. "I appreciate it," he muttered. "But I could never leave my family there while I''m here, mooching off you." He paused, and I sensed that there was more he wanted to say. I kept silent and waited. In the background, Macaila''s shower offered a consistency of sound. Finally, the silence prompted Cass to speak. "It''s funny. I consider myself a capitalist. I believe hard work should be rewarded and the lazy should suffer. I believe you reap what you sow." Cassiah tried to keep his voice noncommittal and emotionless to suffocate the inherent fury in him. He pressed a random button on erion remote. We were joined by four transparent three-dimensional people who played us no heed. The erion''s bodies were lifelike and engaged in a scripted comedic performance around the entire front room¡ªlike we were in the middle of the show. The mute button was activated; we couldn''t hear anything they were saying. Cassiah followed the performance with his gaze, but I knew he was just avoiding meeting my own.


    "The government here pretends to have a capitalist structure," Cassiah declared with an eye roll. "If they really did, then I could have some hope of reaching this level of grandeur in my life if I worked hard enough and took the right path. They like to say it is still possible for an outer ring man like myself to achieve it." Cassiah shook his head in disbelief. This was the first time I had ever heard him express dissent or say something as rebellious as he was now. I had hoped to achieve complete trust with Cass and Macaila to infiltrate the Resistance and felt this was another sign I was on the correct path. "It''s all faery dust and stardust, though. Propaganda, illusions. My father worked his entire life away. He graduated the Academia as quickly as he could, almost burning himself out. He thought it was important for him to enter the workforce as quickly as he could and navigate his way up the structure. He earned promotion after promotion. On paper, he got large pay raises¡ªit should have been enough to move us out of the seventeenth, right?"


    Since Cassiah shot me a questioning look, I felt compelled to answer around the blockage in my throat. "It should."


    Cassiah emitted another bitter snort. "No. See, that''s how they keep the weak oppressed and suffering in poverty. The more you make, the more they tax you. You may appear to be making more in theory, and then you realize that any excess you make on top of your original pay rate is stolen by taxes and back taxes. If my father had been allowed to keep even a small percentage of the excess he had started to make, we would have been able to move out of the seventeenth. He''s worked himself into a frail body that can no longer keep up with his previous workload and responsibility. We relied on him; and now half of the time, we can''t even make ends meet. It''s criminal what the government is doing."


    "Cassiah." Macaila''s hushed and disapproving voice came from the doorway leading to the bedroom. Both Cassiah and I turned towards her. "This is not the time."


    Cassiah, always the epitome of nonchalance, turned back to the buttons on the remote. He pressed the one that connected to the erions again. The images disappeared. The button did nothing to erase the tension in the air. Macail¡¯as face was constricted with it. Cassiah remained muted on the matter, and I knew Macaila would not allow the discussion to continue any further.


    "You look better in the dress than I do," I commented with a nod at her. The statement was genuine. Her warm sepia-colored skin contrasted with the dress better than my own.


    Macaila performed a twirl, complete with her arms lifted. The tiny skirt twirled around her hips. When she finished the spin, she shook her hips back and forth. "I feel like a cheerleader at the caelsphaera games." She laughed a little.


    "You can have it," I told her spontaneously.


    Macaila''s eyes widened. "No. I couldn''t take it from you. Wouldn''t the chancellor get angry if you gave it away?"


    I shrugged. "I doubt he''ll even remember it''s supposed to be in my closet. It was commissioned for this one event specifically. You''ll get more thrill from it than I would. Besides, you earned it tonight."


    "They paid us," Cassiah confided. His arms crossed as he leaned against the table.


    "Probably not enough," I argued. I could still easily recall the inebriated patrons and their rowdy behavior throughout the night. Some of it was inappropriate, especially when it was directed at the attendants. I perked up, remembering the food I had brought back for them. "You two have to eat. Sit." I directed them to the table. Cassiah was more than eager to jump at the invitation. He was already pulling open the sack where I had stashed the food. Macaila was more hesitant.


    "I should change," she said. I followed her into my room to get her a set of pajamas. As I was digging through the dresser drawers to find a matching set, Macaila lingered behind me. "I feel awful now," she started.


    Frowning, I glanced over my shoulder. "Why''s that?"


    "Here you are, making this awful night into a wonderful one for me with the dress and food, and it''s your birthday. I didn''t even get you a gift."


    I found a matching set of pajamas, straightened, and shoved the drawer shut. "What are you talking about?" I inquired.


    Motioning with her chin, Macaila gestured to one of the nightstands. Except for the book I was currently reading and a glass of water at night, I generally kept the surface clear. Now, however, there was a small iridescent gift box with a black bow sitting on the table that had not been there this afternoon. A simple tag was attached to the bow. Even from where I was standing, I could read Happy Birthday written across the tag in rich black ink. Frowning, I wondered who the sender was. Besides Cassiah and Macaila, only Jay and Sebastien knew my birthday had been the previous day. My two friends had been unable to get me anything, and Sebastien had already gifted me the ketamine pills. It seemed implausible that Jay would have left me this. Even though he had the financial means now, he would have wanted to see my facial expression as I opened it. If he even remembered¡ªhe hadn''t mentioned it for the entire night and he had hardly ever left me alone.


    I stared at it sitting on my nightstand as if it contained a beautifully wrapped explosive.


    "I take it you don''t know who it is from?" Macaila observed as she changed out of the dress.


    I shook my head. "No."


    "Maybe it''s from that seraph you danced with," she giggled.


    My eyes darted to the ceiling, and I inhaled deeply through my nose. "Why does everyone believe that something is going on with Kyrian?"


    "I could feel the sparks from where I stood when you two were beating up on each other, Bria," Macaila claimed. From the other room, Cassiah agreed with her through a mouth of food. "I bet that if either of you had pyra as an affinity, you would have set the ballroom right on fire."


    "He wouldn''t appreciate that," I muttered darkly.


    "Still, I wouldn''t hesitate to unbutton his shirt and pants and be his naughty slave for a night. I''d lick his chest, right up to his pecks, and show him how naughty Amhersts are. Though I usually don''t go for his type, so I''ll leave it to you to do all the licking!" Macaila giggled.


    "Mac!" I exclaimed as a blush inflamed my face. "Go and eat." I pushed her out of the room. Seconds later, I heard Macaila screaming excitedly over what I had smuggled out for them. With my friends distracted, I grabbed the gift. My hand was trembling slightly as I undid the ribbon and let it fall to the mattress. It was soon followed by the lid and box. There was a velvet box nestled inside of the paper one. Perplexed, I popped it open. Pinned inside by the satiny pillows was an iridescent diamond. I gently yanked the silver chain out of the box and held the necklace up where it could dangle in front of my eyes. It reflected the bedroom''s light into rainbows as if it was a prism.


    My breath hitched in my throat.


    I recognized the necklace. It was the one from the sanctuary.


    I still clutched the velvet box in my hand and looking down, I saw that there was a note just inside of the top portion.


    So you will always and forever have a piece of the sanctuary with you.


    Happy Birthday, Shadowfire.


    -Hawk.


    I nearly dropped both the necklace and box at the sight of Hawk''s name. Disbelief rushed through me. It had been so long since I had seen my friend from the sanctuary. Although I pined for him, the thought of his existence was tainted by Sebastien¡¯s theory. I remained alone in my bedroom while my friends'' laughter could be heard from the other room.


    "Bria!" Cassiah called out, as if my thoughts reminded him of me. "What are you doing in there? Get your ass out here!"


    "Shh!" Macaila demanded. "She just got a present from her beau!"


    "Her beau? That soldier guy?"


    "Please, do you think he has the intelligence to get her a present? No, I meant the seraph! Hey, Bria, do you know your erions have recording and transmitting capabilities? You can probably be quite naughty with it..." Macaila''s laugh echoed in the room.


    I heard a small smack and Cass hissing Macaila''s name.


    After I placed the necklace back into the box and placed it on my dresser, I moved to stand in the doorway and looked out at my friends. Seeing them laughing and bantering over the feast of food and bottle of vodka in the middle of the reactivated erion, I was overjoyed. That joy was soon overwhelmed with a rush of shock as I realized something.


    The reason why the sapphire thieves had seemed familiar was because two of them had reminded me of Cassiah and Macaila.


    Yet, that wasn''t possible. Was it?

 THIRTY-NINE

    I had planned to spend the rest of the day after the masquerade in bed and recovering with Macaila and Cassiah. It certainly started out that way. Pushing away that sudden burst of suspicion I had about my friends being the sapphire thieves, I had helped Macaila and Cassiah consume the entire bottle of vodka. We joked, laughed, and talked as the alcohol worked its way through our systems. Cassiah fumbled around with the entertainment system and somehow activated the music part of it. Barefooted, Macaila and I danced around the front room. At the masquerade, there had always been eyes on me, judging me, and I had to behave within the perimeters of pomp and circumstance. In the confines of my room, with my friends, I abandoned that rigidity and did what my body felt like doing. It was liberating.


    The late morning sun was already bleeding in through my curtains by the time Macaila and I found our way to my bed while Cassiah passed out on the couch. I didn''t think I had anywhere to be that afternoon or evening and was already planning on ordering hamburgers and French fries to be sent to the room to cure our eventual hangovers. Macaila was leaving for Nicaragua tomorrow and would be gone for two weeks. Cassiah would be busy with his family. I wanted to spend as much time with them before those two weeks separated us.


    Sebastien had other ideas, as was proven when Milo woke me up with his incessant knocking at the front door. I met him with my hair in a bird''s nest around my head, mascara smeared underneath my eyes, my pajama shirt lopsided on my shoulders, and already feeling the hangover''s thumping against my skull. To his credit, only a muscle twitched in his jaw as Milo''s amused eyes took me in. He was quick about informing me I was to report to Sebastien''s office within the hour.


    I wanted to tell Milo that I wasn''t going and felt like crap. I wasn''t quick enough. Milo pivoted on his feet and rushed away before I could even generate a refusal.


    It was tempting to just return to bed and see if Sebastien would attempt to send another person knocking at my door to see what the delay was. Seeing Macaila and Cassiah slumped over the furniture, their mouths wide open and Cassiah snoring, I decided against crawling back into bed. After all, it had the possibility of drawing Sebastien¡¯s attention if I refused, and I felt the need to protect my friends against the man who wanted me to use them for one particular purpose. I quickly changed clothes, splashed water on my face, attempted to run a brush through my bird''s nest of hair, and scribbled a note to Cass and Macaila about where I had gone.


    Once outside, I swayed on my feet, a bit disorientated after seeing the late afternoon sun''s rays striping the hallway. While it was a wonder I had almost slept the entire day away, my body complained that it needed more sleep. My walk was slow, my posture slouching, as I shuffled towards Sebastien''s office, which was a couple of floors above the residence floor.


    Milo was missing from his office when I arrived in the chancellor''s corridor. I bypassed the secretary''s desk and immediately went for the chancellor''s door; I was too hungover to care about manners and decency. I wanted to get in there, see what the chancellor wanted so much he couldn''t wait until tomorrow, and go back to sleep. I had knocked only once before the door opened, and the chancellor was there himself to greet me, as if he had been waiting for me to arrive. He took one look at me and commented, surprised, "I didn''t think you had that much to drink last night." Fortunately, there was a teasing lilt to his voice that conveyed he was not disapproving of my behavior. I was astonished he had been paying that much attention to me in the first place. It had seemed like he had been focused on political maneuvering for the entire night.


    My lips formed a scowl. "It was the after party that got me," I mumbled.


    "I thought I saw you hide a bottle of vodka away." A smile graced Sebastien''s face. "Come, I have something that will help you with that hangover."


    Sebastien ushered me in. The unexpected meeting was not the only thing that would surprise me today. No, it was seeing Emerson seated at the seating area for four that had been arranged around a small square table. Blinking, I stared at the area. It seemed as if Sebastien could alter the area for whatever his needs were. Sebastien directed me to have a seat with Emerson while he went to his desk. My footsteps became weighted with more reluctance as I trudged to the seating area. Emerson greeted me like we were old friends. I was distracted by the sense that Emerson was not the only one there, that another chair was occupied.


    Kyrian''s full invisibility was intact again, and he was present.


    Kyrian couldn''t even wait until I had sat down in the chair before he confirmed his unwanted presence. "I see you''re on your way to becoming the next scandal here." His animosity lingered in the air.


    "If you had remained quiet, I could have pretended you weren''t here, which would have been better for all of us," I shot back, not holding back my contempt for the seraph. To spite him more, I relaxed into my chair further.


    "You two better table your attitudes because you''re going to be working together," Sebastien criticized as he returned from his desk. He dropped small vial with an opaque light blue potion into my hand. Still smarting from Kyrian''s comment, my fingers curled over the the vial. It momentarily distracted me from what Sebastien had just said. Perplexed, I analyzed its meaning. He had to be joking. He saw the tension between us last night and was only poking fun at it. Perhaps it was the calm before his pending diatribe.


    "What do you mean by working together?" Kyrian''s tone was laced with a dangerous edge.


    Sebastien revealed no signs that he was intimidated. He sat down in the only available seat, which was adjacent to me. "Emerson and I have been working together for a very long time to establish the paradise promised to us.¡±


    "Ill-advised." Kyrian mumbled.


    The pounding in my head became unrelenting, and it didn''t seem like this would be a short and easy discussion. I removed the vial¡¯s cork, chucked the potion inside of my mouth, and swallowed it promptly.


    "Up until a couple of weeks ago, we had the support from the daemeyri leaders."


    "That''s when the vampire lord was killed in Astraera," Emerson explained.


    "We were negotiating for the Instruments of Korre."


    "Never heard of them." Kyrian''s curtness came across in his tone.


    Yet, my own neurons erupted from the recognition of the name. I had heard of the Instruments of Korre before. I had been with Kyrian that first time, too, so he had just told a bold-faced lie. It had been when he had ravelled me to Elysium, where Emerson was hosting a conference with the daemeyri leaders. Emerson had told them he needed the instruments to bring this promised paradise into reach. Wondering if this was why Sebastien pulled me out of bed, I listened with more curiosity.


    "The Instruments of Korre were forged by the mages many millennia ago," Sebastien explained. "Some legends have it that Aurora created them and distributed them to the fractions. It is said that the instruments are key to ushering in the paradise that the priestess promised. Both Emerson and I believe that the world is ready for this paradise, and it has undergone all the revolutionary and technological advances it needs to be mature enough for it."


    My simple curiosity vanished under the wave of skepticism I felt. "Then why bother trying to unite and negotiate with the mortals now? It doesn''t seem like they are needed if all you need are the instruments." I paused, taking a breath to organize my scrambled thoughts. "How? How do the instruments work?" I inquired. Sebastien gave me a look that showed he didn''t understand what I was asking. "I mean, unless you are thinking about using them to remove the dissenters'' free will to get them to agree to this one world propaganda, I don''t see how else this would be possible."


    "We are not removing anyone''s free will." Sebastien peered at me with exasperation. "The instruments will give us the power to forge new worlds. The plan is to forge a new, united world, a utopia of sorts, and those who would like to live there will be allowed to migrate with us. The dissenters can just stay in this world. We will model the new world on this one."


    My brow burrowed. "You''re mimicking the old gods."


    Sebastien nodded. "In a way. The instruments were scattered throughout the different daemeyri sects millenniums ago. We were working with the daemeyri leaders to retrieve the instruments. However, when the murder happened, the response was instantaneous: shuttered windows and locked doors. Now, they refuse to talk to Emerson and me."


    "How about you solve the murder first and get them back on your side again, instead of going after this in a roundabout manner?" Kyrian drawled. I could imagine him exuding the appearance of a petulant child slouching in his seat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.


    Sebastien''s eyes narrowed with murderous intent as he stared at the visibly empty seat in our circle. "What are you assuming is our plan, may I ask?"


    "You want us to find the daemeyri and torture them until they cough up the instruments?" There was a joking facade to Kyrian''s statement; I felt he was taking this seriously and meant what he had said. I wasn''t even sure why they had invited him to this meeting. He was toxic and would attempt to disrupt any progress I made.


    "Not torture. I think you are deliberately misunderstanding the assignment, Kyrian." Sebastien denied, his disapproval evident in his frown. Before continuing, Sebastien shifted in his seat. "I would like the two of you to locate and retrieve the remaining instruments. It may involve some stealth and undercover work, although you two could always go and try to negotiate face-to-face with them. They may talk to you once they are aware of who you two are. I''ll leave it up to you as to whether you want to try negotiating again or go the stealth route. I trust that you, Kyrian, have a good idea as to which method would work best for each phylum.¡±


    "Why?" My lips pressed together. "Why us?"


    This time, it was Emerson who provided an explanation. "Besides your complementary strengths being one reason, the daemeyri are not familiar with the two of you. They may trust you more and give you their respective instruments if you can build a rapport with them." Emerson''s expression remained neutral, a barrier to what his real thoughts were. There was more to why they thought Kyrian and I would succeed in this mission, more than what they were saying.


    "I don''t want to work with her." Kyrian sounded like an indignant child.


    "And I don''t want to work with him." I couldn''t help myself¡ªthe retort slipped out of my mouth.


    "Both of you have your respective strengths that complements the other''s," Emerson argued.


    Leaning forward in his seat, Sebastien added, "I know you want to deny what happened with last night''s performance. You were evenly matched dancing, but the actual performance came out with the staffs. You two were moving at speeds comparable to professionals, and it was seamless. I know the two of you never rehearsed together. It was short of extraordinary."


    "Maybe we had the same teacher," Kyrian muttered darkly.


    "Unlikely," Sebastien denied. His forearms rested against his armrests. His index finger tapped against the arm. "As Briara¡¯s teacher would not have been around when you were learning." I knew he was speaking about Galileo. "There''s a connection between you two. If you two can capitalize on that connection, it will push you to extraordinary places."


    Emerson was nodding. "Dare I say it reminds me quite a bit of the legendary zavi?"


    The floorboards underneath the office''s carpet croaked as Kyrian shot up. "Look, this is all a waste of time. I''m not accepting this assignment, no matter how much you try to decorate your words to make it sound like a good idea. Make me work the seam boundary again, I don''t care. I''m not doing this." Without saying anything else, such as a farewell, Kyrian departed the office with Sebastien calling and Emerson snarling after him. Kyrian refused to listen, and the office door slammed in his wake. With another snarl, Emerson pushed himself up from the armchair and darted after Kyrian. There was another slam from the office door with Emerson''s departure.


    Alone with Sebastien, I focused on what had been said. "It was a test, just to see if we were compatible. The performance last night," I asked to confirm what I already knew was true.


    "You could say that," Sebastien confirmed.


    "And if we hadn''t been compatible? What then? Were you going to assign this to Jay and me?" Sebastien looked at me like I had said something stupid. I went on. "Kyrian and I despise each other; we have since the first moment we met. He can''t get over the massacres. He''s never going to see the good in me. He only complied with the orders to break me out of jail because he thought he would be freed of his seraph duties if he did. He''s not going to comply now that he knows the archangels lied to him," I explained.


    Sebastien brought a hand up to cup his chin. "He doesn''t hate you, Briara¡± was his response.


    I fought against rolling my eyes and attempted to try another method. "I can work the assignment myself."


    "Nonsense." Sebastien shook his head. "Emerson will get Kyrian to comply. He''s just being difficult on purpose. You need Kyrian. He has more knowledge than you do about how these daemeyri fractions work." My upper lip twitched in skepticism. Sebastien changed the subject. "Do you think you can handle this on top of what I asked you to do with the Resistance? I know you are also training with Professor Leander. I feel like I am putting a lot on you."


    "I can handle it," I said. It was the truth. Leander understandably didn''t want me practicing without his supervision, and our private lessons were only three times a week. My assignment to infiltrate the Resistance depended on Macaila''s and Cassiah''s schedules, as they were the only people suspected of Resistance membership I had built a rapport with, and they were in school full time¡ªplus the time they had to devote to homework. "Do I have to find all the instruments, or were you able to collect some before the daemeyri stopped working with you?" I inquired.


    "I have some," he confided. Sebastien''s mouth twitched with amusement as he played with the massive ruby ring on his finger. I immediately concluded that he had the mages'' instrument. As one of the prominent mage leaders, he had to. "One of the ones I have in my possession was the sapphire you wore last night, which was the seraphim''s contribution to the set."


    I felt shocked over his level of trust with leaving such an instrument in my possession without any protection, and then dismay. "It was almost stolen last night!" I exclaimed.


    "Almost," Sebastien agreed. "It was reckless of me to dangle it out there like that and expect no one to recognize it for what it was."


    "Do you think it was the Resistance?"


    "They knew the castle and city well enough to evade the soldiers who patrol it every night," Sebastien observed. I felt my stomach twist with more dismay. I was taunted by the memory of this morning and my realization that the thieves seemed familiar because they reminded me of my friends. I bit my lip; this was something I wanted to keep from Sebastien. Whether it was because I was protecting Cassiah and Macaila or just a logical objection considering I didn''t have any proof to throw those accusations around, I wanted Sebastien to remain oblivious to my unwanted theories.


    Not wanting to discuss this topic further, I changed it. "Are all the instruments jewels?"


    "For the most part. They''ve been used as a part of a larger item to disguise their importance, like the necklace. However, the daemeyri each got a different instrument, a different jewel. Each phylum is quite secretive about their instrument, especially where it is, what it is. The instruments are legendary in the amount of power they carry by just themselves. Unite them, and apparently, it''s a spectacle worthy of paradise. Unfortunately, that''s going to add some difficulty for you in this task, especially if the daemeyri are not cooperating."


    I sucked on my bottom lip. "Perhaps. You said the instruments are legendary. I can start out by doing some research in the library to see if I can find anything related to them, like maybe old stories recorded in anthologies and folklore. See if I can narrow it down to which fraction has which specific instrument, and what it could be disguised as. If it is a thing of pride for them, or if they lost the knowledge as to the fact that it is an instrument, knowing what to look for could be a good piece of information to have."


    "The state library may have something," Sebastien confirmed. "If you need to go anywhere outside of the city, let me know. I can get Jay to accompany you to provide extra security until Kyrian comes around. Oh, and Briara, this probably doesn''t need to be said, but this information is confidential."


    * * *


    The potion Sebastien gave me worked well enough that I found myself in the castle''s library later that evening after I said my goodbyes to Macaila and Cassiah. The Master Librarian, Desirae, seemed surprised when I approached her with my research assignment, and she noticed the notepad and pen I carried with me. She guided me to the section where they kept the folklore, which was nearby the section Cassiah and I spent all afternoon flipping through old newspaper leaves. She helped me bring a couple of the books to a small square table situated on the edge of a study area. After telling me she would be at the front desk if I needed any further assistance, Desirae departed, leaving me alone on the third floor.


    I chose a table that was out of the way of mainstream traffic near the central staircase. It put me right up against the stacks and gave me the opportunity to see the entire study area with its empty square tables and entrances to the numerous stacks on the third floor. The library had a recording of soft violins playing in the background; otherwise, the silence would have been unsettling. I settled into my seat and focused on navigating through the first book to see if there was any pertinent information in it. I set out hoping I would be there for a couple of hours, rifle through old poems and stories, and emerge with the answers I needed. Perhaps it was growing up with my mother and Galileo that influenced me to believe that the answers I needed could be found in a book.


    Despite my lack of success that day, I returned to the library the next day. Feeling a bit of familiarity with the table I had sat at yesterday, I chose it again and dedicated the day''s hours to flipping through the pages until a particular title or phase caught my eye.


    Next to me, my notebook remained blank. I accrued random pieces of information. None of it would help me, though. Such as that the mages had their own women''s suffrage movement in the 1500s, and by the end of the century, the first female chancellor had been elected to office. The mages had tried to merge with the mortals once before, which resulted in the Salem witch hunts. I went further back into the time of myths and legends and learned all about how the gods established Astraera. I learned about the Trident of Amavi and initially thought I had finally located something. I gathered all the books I could on the trident and dropped them on my table. It was hours'' worth of a scavenger hunt as I researched it through the ages. My notebook became filled with notes. It was all for nothing, as I eventually discovered that the Astraera Museum had it in its vault.


    That night, I left the closing library with frustration humming in my veins. Two days of research had yielded nothing except false leads. Instead of returning to my apartment after grabbing dinner, I left the castle. It was the end of the weekend, and everyone was still recovering from their midwinter celebrations. The streets were empty; no one gave me a second glance as I hurried past. A significant number of windows were dark, leaving me to wonder if it was a tradition for mages to vacation away from Astraera during the holiday. Fog lingered through the streets and over the canals. It created a dreary overcast over the city, as the lamppost illumination wasn''t enough to vanquish the moodiness. It had rained while I had spent my day cooped up in the library, and there was still a slight drizzle. I wore my black coat and kept the hood up to shelter myself from the cold. My hands were stuffed into my pockets.


    At first, I started walking without any idea where I was going. Then my pace accelerated. If I couldn''t yet solve the mystery behind the instruments and pair them up with their respective daemeyri, there was one mystery I could investigate: the sunken castle and its possible library. No one would look for me tonight, no one would prevent me from diving into the sea¡ªthough I wasn''t looking forward to that first initial shock of cold enveloping me after I jumped.


    Excitement motivated me to get to the Sky Bridge quickly. Perspiration dotted my forehead by the time I reached the very spot the stranger had dived into the water from the bridge the night of the fireworks. By my estimation, it was near eleven in the evening. Scant lighting lined the bridge. With the fog, it was impossible to see into the depths of the bay. I tried to ignore the paranoia that erupted in my mind¡ªwho knew what type of creatures lurked in the dark depths? Was I chancing hypothermia for nothing? I climbed up to sit on the rail, my feet dangling over the bay. With one last look at the brightly illuminated castle mounted on the mountain, I jumped into the bay.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The bay was piercingly arctic. That initial rush of water caused my subconscious to alarm. Immediately, my fingers felt like they were transforming into icicles and would never be warm again. Cold wrapped around my feet, drenching my socks and shoes. I ignored the terror. I kicked to the surface after the plunge, inhaled, got my bearings, and swam out to where I had last seen the stranger disappear. I had to use the buildings on the shore as a gauge; once I reached where I thought the point was, I treaded water until I dove headfirst into its depths.


    The vast amount of water surrounded me in its pitch-black embrace. The knowledge that I did not have air readily available and I could suffocate while I was blind was almost enough to send me back up to the surface. Almost. I forced my eyes open and twisted around. My mouth almost opened, and I almost swallowed a mouthful of saltwater when I saw the outline of the sunken castle illuminated by an intrinsic light that had been invisible from above. More light surrounded the castle like a barrier. Just to my left, there was a brilliant bright human-sized circle in the middle of the barrier; it reminded me of a sphincter. I kicked my legs hard, rotated my arms, and propelled myself towards the hole. I only had to stick my hands inside of its opening to be sucked in.


    I tumbled out on the other side and could barely execute a somersault to help with the inevitable fall into the castle''s courtyard. I rose to my full height on shaky legs. Suddenly, I was not weightless in the water anymore, and gravity was in effect within the barrier. Breathing was possible. Magically, I was dry and warm again. As I regained my breath, I turned my attention onto the castle.


    The portal was next to the sunken castle''s grand entrance. My eyes had adjusted enough to observe the castle''s details, as if it was daylight under the current illumination. Everything was there: the plots for an abundant garden, a grand ramp guiding me up to the tall brick wall that was probably put there for security, and the turrets bordering the wall. I could all too easily imagine soldiers posted at the top of them and walking along the battlements, there to protect the dynasty beyond the doors. Even though I didn''t know who they were, I was overwhelmed with grief and compassion over their demise. Confusion smothered all my other feelings. There had been little about them or their demise in the history books I had reviewed in my past two days of research, reminding me that mentioning them in conversation was taboo.


    The dynasty had been scorned from the pages of the history.


    A chill plunged down my spine.


    Swallowing, I was reminded that the strange man could be lurking in any of the shadows this strange place contained. I could have triggered some silent alarm when I had crossed through the portal.


    I had never heard of the military conducting sweeps of this castle. I doubted they even knew it was its own living organism in the depths under the bay. The man would have been left alone here. My gaze swept the battlements as I walked up the elevated ramp¡ªit too was made of the same cobblestone that lined the city''s streets.


    I reached the arched entry in the brick wall. The door was propped open with a random boulder, offering me entry to an enclosed courtyard. Several benches in various states of disrepair lined its perimeter. On the far side, a stone staircase ascended to a second level courtyard. I kept my head on a swivel as I walked. The loneliness and silence pressed against me. The lack of general noise was eerie and deafening. I expected the regular sounds buildings made, like the croak of a floorboard or rush of water in pipes. After years of being incarcerated with my nearest neighbor always eight feet away from me, I felt a bit unhinged. I was fearful of looking up and seeing the press of the sea yards above my head, dammed by some sort of magical air bubble.


    The elevated courtyard was vacant as well. There, the castle''s base wrapped around the courtyard in an n-shape. Its height lent an imposing and sinister feeling. It had once been painted white. Age and regular wear had tarnished the simplicity. The main part of the castle was taller than each of the wings and hosted several spires amongst its steepled roof. A staircase with three landings led up to the main entrance to the castle. Without further thought of who could be lurking in the windows and watching me, I took it to enter the castle.


    A great hall waited on the other side of the entry doors. Lighting illuminated the interior, and my eyes didn''t have to strain in the dark. While the exterior was bland with its frayed white walls and broken cobblestone, the heavily detailed interior architecture was in a better state. Warm amber materials were used in its construction, and together with the glow of the illumination, the castle presented a pleasantly cozy feeling. Wooden, large-framed paintings of landscapes hung on the walls. Comfortable looking chairs were put together to create seating areas in the wide hallways. One room flowed into the other with no sign of an end. Small staircases appeared unexpectedly and elevated me to another level. Soon, I couldn''t tell if I was still in the main part of the castle or if I had wandered into one of the wings. Rows of diamond chandeliers hung above my head. To my astonishment, every light was functioning and glittering. Beyond the chandeliers, I could see full murals decorating the ceilings. I wandered through ever-flowing hallways and rooms, some of which I could hear the haunted memory of swishes from women''s bulky skirts as they danced.


    I soon stumbled upon personal chambers. They were untouched. From the grandeur of the furniture, like gigantic beds and marble bathtubs, and the quality of the bed linens and clothes in the closet, I knew I was lurking in the dynasty''s chambers. The queen and king''s chamber was decorated classically with roses. Vases of artificial red and white roses were neatly arranged throughout the gigantic room. On the king''s side of the chamber, there was a little hint of personality in the framed photograph of whom I assumed was the king himself standing with a caelsphaera team. Their uniforms were a bold orange, and one player was thrusting a magnificent trophy above his head. Next to this framed photograph was a smaller one. It was about the size of my hand and featured four little girls. The eldest one pictured could not have been more than six or seven when the picture was captured. The girls had long, dark hair. The eldest cradled a plump infant cradled in her arms. The girls had to be his daughters, the princesses. Were they amongst the assassinated? I wondered.


    A shared side table hosted the king''s and queen''s crowns. The king''s reminded me of Asiasi''s crown. It was an art masterpiece consisting of interwoven silver and gold wires. The queen''s tiara was silver and featured a solid amethyst stone as its centerpiece. Small lines of diamonds followed the headpiece''s structure. The crowns appeared untouched. The castle must have drowned soon after Konstantinos sent his men to assassinate the king''s family, or else the crowns would have been stolen by now.


    My feet took me through what I assumed were the princesses'' chambers. I tried to match each room to one of the faces in the king''s photograph. It was challenging. The photo was perhaps half a century old, putting the princesses in their fifties when the assassinations had occurred. Each room seemed to reflect the respective princess''s adult personality. One was a hoarder, although someone had tried to organize her belongings. Another one still had her name running across the wall in big bold letters, Leia, and was dedicated to the woman''s obsession with the color blue and seashells. Another had transformed her room into a library; I had to navigate around towers of fiction. I found the last sister''s room at the end of the hallway. It looked barely lived in. It contained only the minimal necessities. With one exception. Left on her dresser''s corner, there was a silver ring with three rectangular diamonds. It reminded me of a modest wedding ring.


    On the same floor as the bedrooms, there was a private dining chamber. The interior decorating was kept to a minimum. There were exposed and stained wooden beams and pillars forming two columns on either side of the room. A stained oak table sat in the middle of the two columns. Eight chairs were pushed in around the table. A single jeweled goblet was positioned before the head seat, as if the king had spent some time here alone. Perhaps contemplating his pending demise. Fortunately, there weren''t any signs of the brutality rumored to have had occurred here. Someone had cleaned up the bloodshed in the decades since.


    A stone fireplace was the focal point on the far side of the room. Cushions lounged against the stone platform before the fireplace. Two loveseats faced the fireplace at an angle.


    The portraits hanging on the walls throughout the dining chamber caught my interest. The portrait subjects all bore some resemblance to one another. I was looking at a family tree hierarchy, complete with several preceding kings and queens. The portraits that hovered alongside the table were of the last dynasty to live in the castle, with the last reigning king and queen in the middle. The queen was wearing the same tiara I had seen in her bedroom. If I looked closely, I could see the resemblance of the three young women featured in the portraits to the photograph of the children that was on the king''s dresser. I scanned the room for another portrait featuring the last daughter. Her likeness was missing in the informal dining room. Frowning, I wondered where the last daughter''s portrait was.


    "The king used to host family dinners here every Sunday night," a masculine voice informed from behind me. I whirled around as my heart launched into my throat. My body became rigid with the intention to fight. A man I had never seen before leaned against the doorframe of a room I had yet to explore with his hands shoved in his pockets. I knew he was attempting to make himself seem less threatening and imposing as he could as to not frighten me away. "It was the only time he could secure to spend time with his family during the week, so attendance was important to him. He was raised with strong family values."


    I hesitated before I approached the table. My fingers hovered against the smooth edge of the table. I gazed at him with interest. The man''s build was like what I remembered of the stranger''s before he jumped into the sea. He had a narrow face that featured facial hair in the form of a goatee. It was obvious that he did not suffer from hair loss often seen in middle-aged men because he had a full head of dark hair that was carefully pushed back and away from his face. "If he had strong family values, then where''s the last daughter''s portrait?" I challenged.


    The man appeared stunned by my blunt observation, although he quickly recovered. "You are quite perceptive," he observed. I half-shrugged, still waiting for my answer. "He took it down when he disowned her."


    "Did she murder someone?" I challenged.


    "No." The man shook his head. My stare was unrelenting. "The king believed she committed treason."


    "Did she?"


    "Yes." The man straightened from leaning against the doorframe. He took a couple of steps into the dining room. I kept the table in between us. "She was strong-willed and had her own political objectives that she wanted to implement. Barely past her eighteenth birthday, she believed she had all the answers and was determined to change the world."


    "You make her sound like she was disillusioned."


    The man shrugged. Deciding it was better than arguing with me, he changed the subject. "Who are you?" The question disorientated me a little. The intelligence radiating from the man made me assume he already knew who I was, that he knew who everyone was. That he hadn''t come at me with magic was a sign that he hadn''t classified me as a threat.


    Tilting my head carefully, I answered, "Briara Disraeli." I fully expected for the man''s eyes to remain clueless at the foreign name and was surprised when I saw recognition contaminate his gaze. "Who are you?" I shot back at him.


    "Metternich." Metternich answered smoothly. I felt a flare of disappointment. The name meant nothing to me. "How did you get down here?"


    "I watched you jump off the bridge that night after we followed the random fireworks down to the bay."


    "That was months ago," Metternich said.


    "It was a curiosity I couldn''t let go of, and I finally found time to look into it," I declared. "You set off those fireworks."


    Metternich nodded. "I did."


    "Why?"


    "You''ll find out soon, I''m sure."


    "What do you mean by that? Are you a part of the Resistance?"


    Metternich shifted on his feet, suddenly uneasy. "If I was, would you turn me in so they could publicly execute me?" His blatant question gave me pause. It wasn''t exactly a confession linking him to the Resistance.


    "If you are, then why are you not attacking me? Trying to lock me up so I don''t go and tell the chancellor of your whereabouts? I''m sure he would love to know that someone is squatting in the dynasty''s castle." I challenged.


    A smile crept up on Metternich''s face as he searched my face. It felt like we were in a chess match, each of us attempting to gather as much information as we could. I wasn''t sure if I liked it; it certainly put me on edge. His eyes penetrated my soul. "You''re not going to tell good ol'' Sebastien about meeting me," he asserted. "You''re far too intrigued. There''s a part of you that is wondering if the Resistance is correct in their rebellion. You came into Astraera when political parties were already established in their position of power. How do you know the monster didn''t take control of Astraera, that the monster is not wearing the mask of the chancellor or one of those in the Senate who rule beside him? Your mother ran away from this world when she realized she was pregnant with you and never even attempted to return. You still have doubts which side is evil incarnate."


    I clammed up. He knew more about me and who my mother was than I expected. He could read my most private thoughts. Since this was a world built upon the foundation of magic, and I had barely touched the surface of what magic could do, I didn''t feel lame as I asked, "Are you a mind reader?"


    Metternich chuckled. "Not quite. We shall meet again, and we''ll talk more. It''s growing late, and the chancellor is bound to be wondering about your disappearance. You should return before he sends the entire military out searching for you." Down by his side, Metternich''s hands were moving in a circular motion with his fingers, smoothly moving up and down as if he was playing a piano. Mist appeared and covered his form. It swallowed him and he disappeared. I was alone in the castle once more, a silent objection lingering on my lips.


    Metternich was proven correct when I arrived back at the Sistine Castle. The guards manning the castle''s perimeter took notice of me as I walked through the gate, and although they were not obvious about it, they quickly notified some higher power of my return. Had Sebastien been that concerned about my disappearance for what was at most a couple of hours? If so, that was insanity. He knew about my friendship with Cassiah and Macaila, though Macaila was gone. This wasn''t the first time I had returned to the castle late. Yet, no one said anything, not as I walked back to my apartment or in the morning when Sebastien called me into his office to ask me about my progress on my assignments. The chancellor was not too thrilled to hear that my progress was minimal.


    The rest of winter break passed without significant importance. My days fell into routine as I devoted as much time as I could to researching the instruments in the library. By the end of winter break, I still had nothing to show for my time, and I was only half-heartedly focused on the research. It became more of an act of desperation and defiance. I wanted to prove that I could do this without Kyrian, who hadn''t tried to work with me. I hadn''t seen him since he had stormed out of Sebastien''s office so dramatically. Most of my hours then were spent dawdling aimlessly from one shelf to the next, from one floor to the next in the state library. I grabbed whatever book caught my eye, stood in the middle of the stacks, and flipped aimlessly through its pages to see if the book interested me further. Most of them didn''t.


    Metternich never defined when he would see me again. I paid more attention to the people around me when Jay took me out into the city for our ''date'', almost expecting that the man would appear in the shadows at the restaurant. Afterwards, I felt horrible, as most of my attention hadn''t been on Jay as it should have been.


    During the date, Jay transformed into a disciplined gentleman. He pulled out my chair for me; he poured wine into my glass whenever it was nearing on empty; he walked closest to the cobblestone street or put himself in between suspicious people and me. Yet, he was preoccupied with something. There was a subdued manner about him, and it almost made him seem more mature. We walked to his chosen restaurant in relative silence because of it, and since I had started to distance myself from him over my suspicion of his sudden desire to be around me and because of the way he had ''comforted'' me after the Beijing Massacre, I didn''t initiate conversation. I still felt violated from the way he had used me on that bathroom floor. Since he was still my friend, I also felt obligated to accept his dinner invitation.


    To my surprise and delight, he stayed clear of Hellions and Halos. Instead, he took me to an upscale steakhouse in the fifth ring. Over coffee-encrusted steak, twice-baked potatoes, and broccoli, I learned exactly what was on Jay''s mind. He was leaving in the morning for a two-month messenger assignment. While he wouldn''t reveal exactly where he was going, I was able to needle him enough to get him to tell me that the military had a secluded compound near the mage prison, Caligo. His team would be deployed at the compound for those two months. He described it as hopeless, as if there was a cloud of depression lingering over the entire compound. He refused to tell me anything else.


    Instead, he refocused the conversation on someone I would have preferred we didn''t talk about: Kyrian. Calais no longer had to shoulder the burden of Jay''s unwarranted jealousy, and for five-rant-filled minutes, Jay insulted Kyrian. Mostly, it was about how he was invisible. Jay thought it was by choice, and how despicable and fraudulent it was. "I mean, how hideous do you have to be to hide behind an invisibility shield?" Jay laughed as he finished guzzling his fourth glass of merlot. I couldn''t get a word in to explain about Adriana''s curse. I was surprised that I wanted to defend the seraph.


    When he partook in his self-scheduled dose of Ambrosia, he did so after I had excused myself to use the bathroom, when he thought I was out of sight. He seemed so on edge from his assignment that I couldn''t even be furious at him. At the end of the date, he escorted me back to my apartment. There was an eager look in his eyes, like he wanted an invitation inside. He thought he would be able to lose himself in me and forget all about his departure to Caligo. I didn''t give him one and pretended to be oblivious. My apartment door shut in his disappointed face.


    I just didn''t have the energy to honor his needs. I knew full well that he would get them attended to at Hellions. Still, I walked to the full-length mirror in my bedroom and stared at my saddened reflection. I had really tried. I had donned a dark green dress with minimal sparkles that had long sleeves and a mid-thigh hemline. I had straightened my hair, applied makeup. The necklace Hawk gifted me for my birthday hung around my neck. Yet, my heart was not in it. I was too broken, too damaged, to be anything worthwhile for Jay. I wished he would recognize that.


    It was too early in the night to go to bed. With winter break ending in the next couple of days, I felt I needed to do something unusual. I had left the ketamine pills Sebastien had given me for my birthday on my dresser. The little black bag they were in was discreet enough I didn''t fear that someone would snoop in it. With Macaila and my classes returning, I didn''t know when the next time would be when I could use them. Now was the most opportune time.


    I swallowed all three pills and laid back on my bed, waiting for the pills to take effect. That familiar wave washed over me, and I gave myself over to the blissful unconsciousness, already constructing a simple world.


    * * *


    The illusion sprung to life in the sanctuary, exactly as I had imagined it. A black sand beach stretched for half of a mile between two prominent rock formations. The contrast of the sand with the turquoise sea was breathtaking. One rock formation featured a natural arch at its summit, probably formed from the rushing sea a very long time ago. Both formations towered over me. It gave off an aura of being in a canyon. The confined space made me feel safer. A glance out at the ocean confirmed it was vacant. The sky was a pastel blue with only a scattering of distant fluffy clouds.


    "It''s been months," a masculine voice commented behind me. I spun around. My heart fluttered in my chest at the sight of Hawk standing just a yard behind me. I could barely breathe from the sight of him. I knew I had missed him, but I hadn''t allowed myself to comprehend how much. "I started to believe that you had moved on with your life, that you had forgotten about this place." His tone was light, if somewhat teasing. His face was void of any facial expression. His hands were open and relaxed at his sides. The only area where he was not able to hide his inner tension was his shoulders. They were stiff.


    "I could never forget about this place," I confided. I could never forget about you. I wiped my hands on my dress.


    Only one side of Hawk''s lips quirked up into a smile. "I''m happy to see you''re wearing your birthday gift."


    My hands flew up to grab my necklace. "Why? Why did you send it?"


    "I thought you could find it useful. I thought you moved on, and I wanted you to have something from the sanctuary. Besides, where I come from, it is tradition to give someone a gift for her birthday." I stared at him. He did have a point. The necklace was something I had been wearing for the past three years every time I had ventured to this magical place. It had been around my neck the first time I had ever ventured to the sanctuary. I had been charmed by its simplicity the moment I had seen it. To have it in my actual reality... it was already one of my most cherished possessions.


    "Thank you," I whispered. Suddenly apprehensive, I said, "I haven''t gotten a gift for three years. So, thank you. You don''t know how much it meant to me, especially since I haven''t been able to get back here for months. I swear it wasn''t because something better came along, and I just forgot about you."


    Emotion flickered across Hawk''s eyes. He batted it down, and instead, he slowly approached me until he stood directly in front of me. "You want to know another tradition?" he questioned coyly. Slowly, we were falling back into our old familiarity.


    "What?" I asked against the dryness saturating my mouth.


    "Everyone has to dance with the birthday girl." He put his arms up and waited.


    I laughed. "But my birthday was two weeks ago."


    "Then we need to have an extra-long dance to make up for the delay." His eyebrows wiggled when I didn''t immediately step into his open embrace. "Are you afraid?"


    "Never!" I was still laughing when Hawk lunged forward and wrapped his arms around me. Mine had barely settled onto him before he started to waltz us around the black sand beach. The joviality that had been present prior to our dance faded into solemnness. I was able to manipulate the sanctuary into producing music, which echoed in between the canyon walls.


    Just like his defense maneuvers, Hawk''s dancing was graceful. I felt comfortable and relaxed in his arms as he whirled me around and dipped me in time with the music. The warm press of his body against my skin activated a region in me I never believed would be alive again. I could feel his breath against my neck and his stable arm against my back. When our gazes connected, the intensity was almost too much. My skin became flushed from the brisk twirls and movement. My heartbeat seemed uncontrollable. It was bliss, though, and I could feel myself letting go of my responsibilities, all my control.


    The environment around us started to change. The blue skies were transformed by dark rain clouds. Raindrop pellets soon splashed against my skin and drenched my hair. Lightning strikes erupted over the ocean. My skin was bristling from the static electricity in the surrounding air. Two lightning bolts struck the rock formations'' vegetation, causing wildfires to erupt around us. The ocean''s tide grew until its inward push sent waves over our bare feet. As if there was a hurricane out at sea, the waters escalated to the point that the waves were crashing in and soaking my dress from the knee down. The wind tossed my split butterfly sleeves and the dress''s hem around. It messed up Hawk''s hair. Still, Hawk and I refused to let the other go, refused to stop our dance. There was an unexplained emotion between us. Through the years of friendship and companionship, of that intimacy, I had started to lust for him. I wanted those hands brushing against my bare skin to remove my dress. I wanted those lips to caress my neck, and then leave a trail of kisses down my body. I wanted to clench my fingers into his hair as our lips were locked and dueling. I wanted to sit on him and feel him press against me.


    My magic exploded around us.


    It was inevitable that the demons impeded upon this bliss. Soon, all I could think about was wondering how I would ever kill him. If he was the praesidium, then it needed to be done. It was his death against a million that lurked in the shadows of the future. I was controlling my magic within the sanctuary''s confines. For whatever reason, that didn''t transfer over to the real world. If what Sebastien said was true, I had to kill him.


    My heart ached. I released a half sob.


    I didn''t think I could do it.


    "What are you thinking about?" I could barely hear Hawk against the wind blowing into my ear. His hand moved from my shoulder to run his fingers through my hair.


    "Killing you."


    I didn''t know what made me utter those words and didn''t have the time to contemplate why I had told him that. Perhaps it was because by now, I considered him as an extension of me, an extension of my soul. Even though I hadn''t confided everything to him, he knew me better than anyone else. It didn''t matter as I found myself on my back, staring straight up at Hawk, who was mounted over me. His strong thighs were clamped down against my arms and legs. His hands were pressed against my shoulders. I knew it was senseless to struggle against him. I could feel the grainy sand biting into my back. Raindrops splattered onto my face. The black clouds silhouetted him. The rush of the tide crashed into my side. We were far enough inshore that it didn''t smother me. I wondered how long that would last. I wondered if he would hold me down until the saltwater suffocated me. It was already soaking my dress.


    "Why would you want to do that?" he asked, his voice toneless. Controlled. The barriers had crashed down to protect his soul.


    "You''re my praesidium," I whispered.


    It was all I had to say. Hawk immediately understood what that meant. It was in the way his jaw clenched as his teeth grounded together. His fingers dug into my shoulders. "You need to go. Now," he growled. "Don''t ever come back."


    I didn''t argue with him. I returned to reality and collapsed on my bedroom floor. I didn''t attempt to rise from it for many hours afterwards.

 FORTY

    I was more than ready when winter break ended, and my life resumed its structured routine. Leander had scheduled my next lesson the day that school started again, and surprisingly, I was eager to attend the lesson. It meant relief from the hopeless days spent in the library trying to find information buried in an ocean of beautified, but arrogant, words. There were so many rhymes and metaphorical language that it had become tedious. However, it took only ten minutes of reading from Magical Theory: A Hypothetical Examination of Ceremony and Magic in Leander''s classroom for the relief to transform into ennui. I was desperate to practice my magic again, to get back into the gymnasium. Whatever focus I had vanished. Even though my eyes scanned the tiny, organized, and bland words across the page, I failed to retain anything.


    Time was my enemy at this point. It had slowed down so that every millisecond seemed like it lasted five minutes. Getting to the end of this ''lesson'' became my new goal, and I reminded myself I had a reward waiting for me afterwards. I was supposed to meet up with Macaila and Cassiah in the city later tonight.


    My focus was depleted. Every little thing in Leander''s lecture hall was a distraction. The professor had situated himself at the front of the classroom behind one of the large counters with a stack of papers he was grading. My mind exaggerated every rustle of paper coming from his direction. I noticed that a couple of desks in the front row were unaligned. A cart with different chemistry instruments and used textbooks sat out of the way and against the wall. A couple of times, I caught myself fading and falling asleep over the book. I shifted positions in the effort to get more comfortable.


    I received a burst of excitement when the door to the lecture hall opened. I perked up quickly and turned around in my seat to see who the savior was that was distracting me from my misery. My excitement turned to puzzlement as I didn''t see anyone there. The door was open, so I knew I hadn''t imagined anything. Creaks came the auditorium stairs. A glance at Leander revealed he was perplexed as I was. It all became clear when Kyrian''s arrogant voice shattered the silence in the room. "Professor," the seraph greeted, ignoring me completely. "I''m Kyrian Asherton, seraph prince."


    "I know exactly who you are. What do you want?" Leander snapped.


    "I have need of Bria''s services and need to interrupt her lesson." His arrogance was ripe in his tone.


    For a moment, my disgust and hatred for the seraph disintegrated over the prospect of being rescued from this torment. I was already moving to shut Magical Theory and return it to its proper bookshelf when Leander''s own words of disapproval trumped Kyrian''s. "She''s in the middle of her lesson, which is extremely necessary at this point."


    "Because she looks like she is learning so much right now," I heard Kyrian mumble sarcastically under his breath. Then, loudly and boldly, he declared, "I''ve already gotten approval from the chancellor to allow Bria to leave this one a little early."


    "Her lessons are important."


    "So is the assignment the chancellor gave us," Kyrian argued. I paused by the bookshelf, watching the volley back and forth.


    "She still has her meditation session to attend to."


    "I''m sure she''ll be fine missing one meditation session," Kyrian drawled.


    "I will!" I interjected. "If this is what I think it is about, it is extremely important, Professor."


    In the end, Leander didn''t have much power to prevent me from going, especially when Sebastien had provided his permission. Although Kyrian''s reasoning for pulling me out of my lessons was legitimate, it still felt like I was doing something bad, and it excited me to the point that there was a bounce in my step as we navigated through the Academia''s hallways. It was mid-afternoon, and students and teachers were secured in classrooms. The hallways were empty, though we did past the odd student nestled in a nook waiting for his next class to start. To my surprise, Kyrian knew the way out of the Academia. I waited for him to tell me what he needed my help with. He never did. If I listened closely, I could hear his footsteps next to mine as we walked.


    When we were approaching the entrance atrium, I asked him, "Where are we going?"


    "To see the faeries," Kyrian gruffly stated.


    His answer was unexpected. "What?"


    "They wouldn''t give me the instrument without you present."


    That was all I would get from Kyrian about this expedition. I counted myself lucky for getting the information I had.


    * * *


    During my time in Astraera, I had learned that the daemeyri population coexisted with mortals on mortal territory. Most preferred the forced anonymity and inconspicuous living in the mortal world to the hierarchical system in the mage and seraphim dimensions, which were largely elitist. They had created bubbles in major mortal cities where they could practice their traditions and culture freely¡ªas long as mortals didn''t bear witness to any of it. Beyond this, I was clueless as to where the faeries had established their base. When Kyrian and I had reached the exterior perimeter of the Academia, and he gripped my forearm tightly, I was unaware of exactly where we were going when we raveled from the spot.


    I immediately became anxious when we reappeared in the middle of a bustling intersection. The combination of crowds and tall buildings was overwhelming after the quiet of Leander''s classroom. My ears became polluted with the sounds of car horns and brakes screeching. It was enough to make me wince. It was fortunate that we had arrived in the middle of winter and the unforgiving bite of cold kept the bundled pedestrians focused on themselves. I quickly rearranged my hood to conceal my face. I bit down against my bitterness, feeling like Kyrian purposely didn''t tell me we were going to be merging onto a busy mortal street where anyone could recognize me and raise the alarm. My past mass murders always hovered in between us, as he would never let me forget them. He always had one comment to make all the shame I felt rise to the surface, so I knew he was not oblivious to the danger he had just put me in. Xavier''s followers could be anywhere. I was just waiting for the witch screeching to begin.


    "Where are we?" I hissed to Kyrian. It was disorientating that he was invisible amidst this hustle and bustle.


    "Hong Kong," he answered tonelessly.


    I blinked. Out of the many places I thought the faeries would have chosen to inhabit, Hong Kong wouldn''t have been at the top of that list.


    Kyrian had to hold my wrist to guide me through the streets. His grip was tight. He didn''t want to be touching me anymore than I wanted him to. However, there was a lack of any other options. As we were amongst the mortals, it was easier for him to guide me through touch. I kept my eyes averted, too afraid to make any eye contact with anyone. Every step was weighted with the anxiety of hearing the cry of alarm coming from behind me.


    It was a tremendous relief when Kyrian veered from the congested street and underneath the arched entrance to one of the city''s parks. I felt calmer as we exchanged the canopy of buildings for trees. I breathed in the ocean-tinted air a little easier. There were some people inside of the park''s confines, enjoying the environment as they strolled around, walked, or jogged. Although I exchanged friendly nods of acknowledgment with them, they were too lost in their minds or whatever podcast that was accompanying them. I was distracted by my appreciation of the greenery and flower arrangements along the paths until I remembered our purpose for being here. My curiosity lingered in my chest, and I longed to ask Kyrian why we were in Hong Kong. As far as I remembered, the Chinese culture didn''t have any traditional faery myths in their folklore. Still, I bit my lip, reluctant to ask him anything. Despite him gripping my wrist as to not lose me, I felt his antagonism radiating from him. The feeling was mutual.


    I felt compelled to escape his hold and dart away. He had brought me to Hong Kong to stand before the Seelie Court. We were in a park where nature had been allowed to invade civilization. I could count on the Seelie Court being within the park''s confines, and I was confident in my abilities to locate the court by myself. At this point, I didn''t trust Kyrian''s motives for suddenly involving me. They wouldn''t give me the instrument without you present, he''d said. Apparently, he had been working on the assignment by himself. He had already gone to the faerie queens, and they had forced him to come and get me. It left me to wonder bitterly how many other instruments he had collected without me.


    We were deep in the park when Kyrian took a sudden turn into the shrubbery and trees. The dirt path was concealed by the low shrubbery. If I looked closely, I could see a small, almost indistinguishable path winding through the trees. It was marked by a patch of tiny red flowers.


    Kyrian took lead, pulling me behind. I struggled to keep up with him. Roots and small boulders appeared out of nowhere to become tripping hazards. More of the city vanished behind the trees until I could no longer see skyscrapers or hear traffic. The trees allowed only slivers of sunlight through. We walked until we entered another world entirely.


    After a twenty-minute trek, I heard flutes, harps, and fiddles producing conjoined melodies. If I listened close enough, I could hear the strings of laugher, rhythmic claps, and festivity. My heart pumped quicker from adrenaline. If everything I had read in folklore was true, faeries were known for their dangerous festivities, where they lured humans to their clearings and made them dance until their deaths. Or they enticed poor human souls with their food and drink, only to entrap them until they became wraiths.


    It was too soon when I stumbled into a circular clearing where a faery revel was occurring. I had only milliseconds to stare before Kyrian pulled me around the circumference of the clearing, trying to avoid drawing attention to us by remaining in the shadows of the trees. Pallets had been laid out around the circles. Large, square cushions laid askew on them. Evanescent beings lounged on the cushions together. A couple of these pallets had been repurposed into a stage where musicians were playing. The melody was catchy, and I swayed along with the music as Kyrian pulled me along. In the middle, faeries were swinging each other around. Cups and bowls of brightly colored drink and food littered the clearing. Most of it appeared to be natural, such as berries and slivers of meat. Strings of lights were draped over tree branches. On the other side of the clearing was the entrance to an industrial marketplace.


    The faeries were humanoid, although their bodies held no substance. I could see the outlines of their bones through their translucent skin. Their gossamer clothes were draped around them and held around their bodies by single strings of hemp. One had long purple hair that brushed against the ground as she swayed on the dance floor. Another barely had any clothing on, though it was unnecessary: most of his body was covered in tribal tattoos.


    I wish I could say that I went unnoticed. Yet, the faeries knew I was there the instant I stepped into the clearing. Their eyes pierced my skin with admiration. Their hands reached out to brush lovingly against my skin. It left an amazing tingle behind. Those dancing waved their arms in the effort to get me to join them. My head was adorned with a flower crown, while a garland of flowers was draped around my shoulders. I became enchanted with these ethereal beings, with their beauty. I longed to lie down with the others on the cushions and get lost in the haze of their faerie wine. I gazed at the chiseled chest of one male, salvia accumulating in my mouth and wetness in between my legs. He caught my gaze and beckoned with his finger for me to join him on the cushion.


    Next to me, Kyrian grunted in exasperation. Still, he didn''t release me to fend against their enchantment alone. He pulled me along the perimeter. My steps lacked purpose with my gaze still focused on the faery male; I was dragging my feet. I was only faintly aware of when we stopped on the other side of the clearing underneath the marketplace''s entrance awning and Kyrian rotating my hand over. I tried to yank it away, to join the fae male. Kyrian¡¯s grip tightened around one of my fingers... the very finger that experienced a sharp prick.


    "Ouch!" I exclaimed. The pain annihilated the enchantment''s fog. A tiny droplet of blood appeared on my fingertip. I tried to pull away from Kyrian''s grip again. He was ready for it. His fingers clenched tight enough around my wrist to leave bruising. "Why did you do that?" I hissed in his general direction.


    "These creatures are part hell," Kyrian hissed in return. "Look." His other hand landed on my cheek and forced my gaze back to the clearing.


    Gritting my teeth in frustration, I did as Kyrian asked. My stomach twisted with nausea. The single prick was enough to shatter the enchantment. Whatever admiration of their beauty I had was transformed into disgust. The male whom I had drooled over had patches of moss emerging from his orifices. Their features became gaunter and severer, as if they were wraiths who had just dug themselves out of a grave. One of them smiled at me, revealing yellowish and decaying teeth. The fae with the purple hair had bugs crawling over her, as if they were part of her actual skin.


    "Are those their true forms?" I croaked out.


    "Their magic is illusion. They will show you whatever they believe will work best to manipulate you into their web of influence. They play games, and it''s quite an honor for them to ensnare a mortal. A mage more so for obvious reasons. Getting out of their snare is near impossible, so it''s best to avoid getting trapped in the first place. You would do well to remember that," Kyrian lectured. Unable to even snap back, I swallowed my disgust with myself. I was in more control of myself than this. I should have been immune to the faeries'' manipulation. "Think you can focus on the assignment now?" Kyrian inquired.


    I was anxious to face the faerie queens now, although I refused to reveal that vulnerability to Kyrian.


    Kyrian directed us inside of the marketplace and we left the clearing behind. This time, his pull was a little gentler, if not sympathetic. I followed behind him, feeling chastened.


    The faeries'' marketplace was industrial in that it used exposed wooden beams as a part of its infrastructure. There was a definite lack of steel, confirming that the compound was toxic to the faeries. Sections of string lights were strung up above our heads. Kyrian navigated through moderate traffic in the hallways. Some faeries maintained their glamours while others preferred to go as they were. I found myself accepting of both. Music was present, and some faeries were dancing out in the middle of the wide hallway where others had sat down and taken a lunch break from their shopping.


    Various shops were featured on the lower level. A restaurant was dedicated to the concept of raw foods, and if their advertisement was correct, had a nauseating special of raw chicken in a lily pad salad. Another shop sold gossamer strands, which was no doubt the fashion here. An attendant was seated on a stool behind the counter playing with her cell phone as she maintained an empty shop. Yet another offered shelves and bins of shiny and sparkly things. A couple of faerie patrons were excitedly perusing the goods in there. I almost halted when I saw a brightly illuminated storefront. A red flower and several satin bags were on display. In front of the satin bags was a line of small diamond-like rocks. Dreadfully curious, I stared beyond the storefront and noticed that the store''s design was minimalistic. There was only a counter in the store. All the product had been arranged on small wall shelves. Two people were browsing the product. Three intimidating faeries in military attire guarded the storefront.


    I didn''t want to believe that the store was selling Ambrosia.


    There was an upstairs portion to the marketplace as well. From what I could tell from down below, a bar, Pilates studio, and salon rented space on the second level.


    "This is astonishing," I muttered to Kyrian after we passed a family on the outreaches of the highly trafficked areas. Kyrian was navigating us away from the populated area and towards the back of the marketplace where there were vacant spaces. There wasn''t any string lighting above our heads here. One store seemed to have been transformed into a storage place for numerous plastic bins stacked up on the other.


    Kyrian grunted. "What is?"


    "I guess I always envisioned faeries to be archaic. Luddites even."


    "They were the first fraction to seize technology for their own and learn how to prosper from it," Kyrian explained. He mounted a staircase and ascended into the shadows. I followed him.


    I contemplated what he said. "They are business-minded?"


    "You could say that.¡±


    "I don''t know if I would want to do business with faeries. Don''t they have one foot in hell and the other in heaven? How do you know which version you''re going to get?"


    "I don''t think you''ll get a choice today; they wanted you here for the negotiations," Kyrian reminded. We reached the second floor. To my surprise, there was another staircase leading up to the next level. There were even more shadows lingering up there than on the second floor, where there were at least businesses open. I didn''t think the third level was a public space. Without hesitation, Kyrian ascended this set, too.


    I took a deep breath against the apprehension in my gut. "Do you have a strategy for these negotiations?"


    "Just follow my lead." I blinked. I preferred briefings like the ones I got from Galileo when I went on missions. Despite his refusal to tell us his endgame, he at least provided a plan. If he wanted me to act a particular way, he told me to use one of my numerous aliases.


    My assumptions about the third floor were proven correct. The space was private and had been transformed into a large personal office. While two opposing walls were solid, the adjacent walls were just wooden railings offering views into the marketplace down below. I could hear the faint sounds of the music carrying up here. Two wooden desks were set perpendicularly to the full walls. Plants exploded around the place, creating an urban rainforest in between the furniture and more of those plastic bins I had seen down below. Small potted trees were grouped in the corners. That strange red flower sat on one of the desks; it appeared to be cherished around here. Potted plants hung from the ceiling. Behind each of the desks, there were bookshelves filled with shiny objects. Stacks of paperwork and computers were on the two desks. One of them had stacks of different currency rubber-banded together, as if they were waiting to be deposited into a bank. Or whatever the faeries used. I assumed the office was shared between the two faerie queens, Tatiana and Fallyn.


    Wherever they were. The office was empty.


    "They''re not here," I observed.


    Kyrian was unconcerned. The chair behind the left desk squealed as he sat down on it. "They need to get the springs oiled," he commented nonchalantly. He forced similar squeaks from the chair¡ªno doubt rotating the seat back and forth.


    I frowned. "It''s hilarious you find this amusing," I responded, frustrated. "What''s your plan? Stay here until they come back?" I hoped not. I had plans with Macaila and Cassiah this evening.


    "We tripped the alarm. They''ll be here soon enough. Relax," Kyrian ordered. "Perhaps at the other desk. That''ll start negotiations off well enough." Follow my lead, he seemingly reminded me. That was the plan. Unfortunately, I had been around Kyrian long enough to know that this arrogant front he was displaying was just a part of his disposition. For whatever reason, he thought that particular attitude would get him further in the world. It disgusted me he had been deemed by Sebastien as the daemeyri expert between the two of us because of his age and experience.


    Follow my lead. No matter how disgruntled I was, I did have a particular alias that could mirror Kyrian''s arrogance. Amara had been buried for years, and if I pulled her out now, she would be rusty. I hadn''t portrayed the arrogant and snooty bitch for years.


    My jaw locked from frustration. I turned away from where Kyrian had made himself at home and wandered to the other side of the room. I gingerly sat down in the chair behind the second desk. Uncomfortable, I shifted several times as the silence stretched across the room. I fidgeted; first by removing the flower crown and garland, and then with my hair. My gaze was curious as it roamed the papers scattered across the desk''s surface. One stack was a contract, I realized. The faerie queens were running a business, and it was how they were thriving in this world. To my astonishment, Sebastien was one of their customers, and it was his signature at the bottom of the paperwork. Fallyn''s signature was next to his.


    The contract was in relation to supplying Sebastien with Ambrosia.


    The realization hit me hard.


    The faeries were behind the Ambrosia manufacturing, the drug that the mage military was addicted to. It was the drug that seemingly had no consequences. Knowing who was behind the manufacturing of it, I doubted it was consequence free. There were two sides to a faery: heaven and hell. I had seen the heavenly aspects with Ambrosia; it obviously made the user euphoric. What concerned me was the mysterious hellish side. When would that appear? How would it affect the military, least of all, Jay? Yet, why would Sebastien sanction this? He was spending upwards of hundred thousands of dollars just for this shipment of Ambrosia, if I was to believe the contract. He needed his military¡ªat least until the ascension to paradise. Why would he knowingly harm his military? My mind working quickly to analyze everything, I understood what the plastic bins that I had seen everywhere were. They were the next shipment to the mages. And that coveted red flower... it had to be the foundation of the drug.


    Jay had left for his assignment at Caligo the morning after our dinner. I had no way of contacting him to alert him about the Ambrosia. I''d have to wait until he got back to try and convince him to give up his addiction, though that would be an obstacle given Jay''s substance abuse history.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The office door flew open and slammed against the wall.


    A woman stood in the doorframe.


    She was breathing quickly, her chest heaving. She was an evanescent being; I wondered if she would blow away with a gust of hurricane wind. Her wispy, flyaway hair was scattered around her gaunt face. The last time I had seen her, she had been wearing a flower crown. I couldn''t remember which twin queen she was. Her eyes first naturally fell on me during her scan of the room.


    "You didn''t bring your guards with you? Pity, I was looking for a fight," Kyrian complained, dragging her gaze to the other side of the room.


    Her anxiety was transformed into immediate agitation as she realized what was happening. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.


    "You said to bring the girl or else you would not be continuing negotiations for your instrument, so I brought the girl," Kyrian sighed loftily.


    "And you thought you would surprise me and trespass in my office?" the queen growled. Her eyes narrowed ferociously. I wondered once again if Kyrian knew what he was doing, or if he had just dragged me into a dangerous situation. "I''m busy, so you can get your damn feet off my desk and get the hell out of here. You can schedule a damn appointment through my secretary like everyone else."


    I perked up with curiosity. The queen could see him. "You don''t look that busy," Kyrian argued. "Maybe you do look like we just interrupted a steamy session with an underling when we set off the alarm, but I think that can wait. Your underling will still be there, waiting to lick you after negotiations."


    "I was doing warehouse inspections," the queen growled.


    "Oh, so you''re fine," Kyrian drawled. "And where is dear Fallyn? Will she be joining us today, or is she indisposed?"


    "She''s away on business," Tatiana hissed.


    "Well, I''m sure she trusts you to act in her interest as well. Let''s get these negotiations underway so that I can get back to what I enjoy doing, you can get back to being licked, and dear Bria can go back to massacring and demolishing entire cities."


    Follow my lead, Kyrian had urged. This was just an act, I reminded myself. I forced myself to settle back into the office chair. I brought one leg over the other. "It doesn''t even have to be that long. You know what we want, and Kyrian brought me here. Isn''t that what you wanted in the first place? I''m here. I''ve graced you with my presence, so just hand over the instrument, and we''ll be on our way. You can go back to that underling of yours. I know how pleasant getting that area serviced is, especially if it''s by someone who knows what they are doing." I said in Amara''s haughty tone with a suggestive wiggle of my eyebrows.


    Tatiana turned her glare on me. "You want to negotiate?" she hissed. She took a couple of steps into the office so that she could stand in between both desks. "I have several ideas as to what I want in return for the instrument." A darkness infected her words; it made me falter. I wasn''t certain if Kyrian had chosen the appropriate tactic. Perhaps we should have tried a stealthier one. Maybe we should have scheduled that damn appointment.


    "What is that?" Kyrian inquired.


    A slow smile graced Tatiana''s mouth. "Have you told Little Miss Bria here about Adriana?"


    I forgot how to breathe for seconds, and the Amara facade slipped a little as I checked the other desk. Silence reigned over there. Without knowing the entire story, I knew Adriana was a trigger for Kyrian, even all these millennia later. Her betrayal had been enough to send him spiraling into suicidal ideation. Evangeline had commented that Kyrian had never been the same afterwards. "We aren''t that close," Kyrian drawled smoothly.


    "Really. Isn''t that peculiar?" Tatiana remarked. Her gaze flittered over to me before darting back over to Kyrian. "You weren''t tempted again? You have to know."


    "I learn the first time I''m burnt," Kyrian declared.


    "And she cursed you." There was wonder in the queen''s voice. Her eyes became distant. She was accessing information from some unknown source. "It was inactive as long as you remained separated from the seraphim after your rebirth, and then it was activated after you took up your wings again. No one can appreciate your handsomeness, or they will activate a part of the curse that will most likely annihilate you." The queen released a chuckle and shook her head. "Adriana must have some faerie blood in her, because her curse is quite sinister. I''m impressed. No wonder you''re perpetually grouchy."


    I released an enormous sigh. Focusing on digging out some dirt underneath my fingernails and appearing nonchalant, I asked, "Can we go back to negotiations, please? I don''t want to be here all afternoon. I have things to do, cities to burn down." I moved my legs to her sister''s desk.


    Tatiana shifted on her feet. "And if I told you I want you to look at Kyrian, activate that part of the dormant curse, would you do it? If I gave you the instrument in return for it?" Her request made me hesitate. "You must be curious about what he looks like. He could be a stranger, and a beautiful one at that, or he could be someone you know. You are truly content with walking around with him, oblivious to exactly who he is? You''re content with not knowing him fully with all five senses?"


    I forced myself to remain calm and continued to display Amara''s haughtiness. The queen was only trying to sow seeds of doubt in my mind. I dropped my hands to my lap and instead rotated my ankle on her sister''s desk. "I don''t understand why you are demanding something as stupid as that. Is it fear? Is that why you''re acting out and trying to unnerve us?"


    "It isn''t that simple, girl."


    I wrapped a strand of my hair around my finger. "What are you afraid of?" I forced feigned sympathy into my tone. Tatiana stared at me, refusing to answer my question. I released a haughty laugh that tipped my head back into the chair''s cushion. "You can''t believe what the elf king said at that stupid meeting you had with the archangel. It was all paranoia. There is only one thing that matters in this universe, and it''s power. Many people thrive on trying to achieve absolute power. You know that the chancellor is just trying to unite the instruments to create a new world, and you''re just going to shun the opportunity that is there? Stupid, in my opinion. You join with him now, you show your goodwill by giving me the instrument, I''m sure you''ll be granted more power in paradise than you have now. Wouldn''t you like to move on from this dump and into your own palace?"


    Tatiana was not in the remotest sense persuaded. Yet, a gleam came to her eyes when I mentioned power, as if I had just reminded her of hers. That was the worst mistake I could have made. We had cornered her, and she retaliated.


    Her transformations were seamless. Her office disappeared from around us, and instead of a chair with a padded cushion, I found myself sitting on a tree trunk. My feet were planted in wildflowers; the entire valley was covered in them. Off in the distance, I could see snow-capped mountain peaks stretching towards the blue sky. Kyrian was gone; she had banished him out of this illusion. My throat clogged up against the urge to call out his name. How far did her illusion stretch? Would he be able to hear me? And what about Tatiana¡ªwere her intentions here good or bad?


    The environment was not the only thing she transformed. She had altered her appearance as well. Her dark hair cascaded down her back. I froze, unable to breathe. My mind fought against itself. By sight, I recognized the woman. By heart, that recognition was there. Yet, so was the logic. My mother had been dead for over a decade, and she certainly was not one of the two faerie queens. This was all an illusion. "And what if that is not what the instruments are used for, Bria?" the faerie queen asked behind the shield of my mother''s face. "What if they are used for something more ominous?"


    "Sebastien told me it was to achieve paradise," I protested around my dry mouth.


    "What if Sebastien is a demon wearing an angel''s face?" Tatiana questioned in a sing-song voice.


    "You don''t have to wear her face," I snapped. I warily stood on the perimeter of the wildflower field. A part of me wanted to flee, even though it would be for nothing.


    "I thought it would make you happy. No? Did I hit a nerve?" The faery queen tilted her head. Her eyes searched my face. Her next transformation was instantaneous. Its lack of transition put me on edge. Yet, Galileo now stood about a yard away from me. His perpetually tanned skin and burly frame looked out of place in the wildflower valley. Agitated, I pressed my lips tightly together and crossed my arms. "How about this, Bria? Will this be a better face to do our negotiations in?"


    "Where''s Kyrian?" I growled out through clenched teeth.


    "Preoccupied." The queen''s laugh through the illusion was unnerving. It was way too carefree compared to the focused, analytical man Galileo was. "After last time, he was already on my nerves. He''s always so full of demands." Despite the hatred I felt for my unlikely companion, I felt concerned. "Relax, Bria. He''s going to be okay. Just will have a large hangover in the morning when it fades out of his system. He''s with the revelers right now. Stoned out of his mind. Don¡¯t worry, he''ll be his same grumpy self in the morning. It''s really an improvement to his personality, and I know you agree with me." Tatiana paused. "I don''t know why you even care. That man is a hard person to love. Too many wounds, and yet, he thinks he has the right to judge everyone and everything with those little beady eyes of his. He walks around like he can see everyone''s soul. Is that a man you want to be paired up with?"


    I refused to answer her questions with anything except silence. Information was power, and if I was going to get out of here with the instrument and Kyrian, I had to limit hers. With Galileo''s smug face staring at me, waiting for me to answer, it was too much. "Will you stop wearing other people''s faces?" I snapped.


    "I thought you would be thrilled to see your mother and advisor. Weren''t they taken from you way too early?" Tatiana forced Galileo''s lips to pout.


    I pushed a strand of my hair away from my face. Realizing I was fidgeting, I forced my hand down by my side.


    Sighing theatrically, Tatiana transformed again.


    Hawk faced me now. He glanced at me expectantly, as if waiting for applause or for me to be jolted into a run into his arms. There was a deep yearning to be in his presence, just as there had been with my mother minutes ago. Had I not been aware of the powers of illusion these daemeyri exercised, I would have been wrapped around the faery queen''s finger. The faery queen, wearing Hawk''s identity, spun around, throwing his head back and letting his arms fly at his sides. "Come, dance with me, Bria!" he called out.


    My fists clenched at my sides. "Please stop toying with me," I hissed through my teeth. My mind was a chaotic mess. The faerie queen, with all her transformations, had made me reactionary. I had to figure out how to shift the power so that I was on the offensive.


    Tatiana stopped her twirling. Her head tilted as mischief played across her face. "This doesn''t please you?" I let my glare provide her with the answer to her question. With one large sigh, the queen discarded Hawk''s identity and assumed her original one. Her blonde hair covered the length of her body, while her eyes were an unnatural blue, almost mimicking the cerulean sky. A forest green dress was draped around her body, revealing her body at sharp angles. She stalked towards me. I remained where I was, scared that if I took a step from where I was standing, I would be consumed by whatever enchantment she had wrapped around me. The queen walked around me, as if she was inspecting me. Gritting my teeth together, I stared straight ahead at a distant tree.


    "Are you done?" I inquired when she stopped in front of me again.


    The queen''s eyebrows shifted upward. "You''re a sassy one, aren''t you?"


    "I don''t know why I''m here. I hope it isn¡¯t because you want me to applaud all your illusions." I snapped.


    "You know exactly why you''re here," Tatiana smirked. "It''s the same reason your mother, boyfriend, and predecessor came here to petition us. Only, we did not think they were deserving." The queen''s comment was enough for me to hesitate and disrupt all my derogatory thoughts. My thoughts fired off rapidly, too quickly for me to process and verbalize them. Kyrian isn''t my boyfriend. When was my mother here? What do you mean by my predecessor? Unfortunately, the queen was observant enough to see the confusion flooding my thoughts. "There''s a lot that is still concealed from you. Youth can be a burden sometimes, as there is power in knowledge. Still." Tatiana snapped her fingers. The illusion was tied to the sound, and the wildflowers faded.


    I now stood in a circular room surrounded by multiple doors. The sunlight from the previous illusion had vanished, and I wished it hadn''t. An eeriness accompanied these new shadows in this hollow, circular atrium. The atrium was tall enough that I could not see the ceiling in the shadows above me. Mystery lurked behind the doors, as they were all alike. Cluttered end tables were pushed up against the walls in between the doors. Various odd trinkets covered their surfaces. I saw empty glass vases, jewels, and stones that had been carved into animals. Glass had been blown into roses. An antique pair of glasses sat next to a small vial containing a dried herb. As I orientated myself with my new surroundings, the queen walked to one of the end tables on my left. I shifted on my feet, unwilling to let her out of my sight. The queen had no reservations about her own vulnerabilities: she never hesitated to have her back turned towards me. She picked up an item from the table after a brief visual search of the surface.


    Pivoting around, she faced me. She held a small dagger before her; her gaze considering it. Gasping, I stumbled backwards. My eyes wildly scanned the doors surrounding me. They all offered a double-edged choice. With any of the potential doors I opened, I would be stepping into the unknown, and perhaps into an even more dangerous environment. My eyes flew back to Tatiana, whose own eyes shifted to mine above the dagger''s blade. A small smile formed on her face. "You''re a bit finicky for a hero, aren''t you? You don''t trust me? Must be Sebastien''s influence." Her fingers released the hilt so that it was balancing on her palm, and she revealed more of the weapon. Jewels had been inserted into the hilt.


    "I don''t know which one you are," I noted.


    Smile still in place, the queen stepped forward. "You mean the good queen or the evil queen?"


    I nodded. Apprehension churned my blood as the queen approached.


    "We are one of the same, my sister and me. Those descriptions of good and evil are not accurate enough. After all, we were cast out of both heaven and hell when we petitioned both realms for sanctuary. I guess the answer to that riddle is that we are neither. We just subscribe to what feels good. Trickery amuses us, but for the most part, we don''t tease out of hatred." When she was only a step away, the queen spun the dagger around so that she held the blade gently in her hands. She offered the hilt to me. I loathed to accept it. My fists twitched at my side. Tatiana laughed softly, and went on to say, "This only reveals your innocence in these matters. You really are unaware of what is happening in the universe. The good part of that is that you know you lack the knowledge of all the movers and all the pieces. You recognize that, and you have the right to be scared. I can smell your fear on you. It makes me want to give you a dose of our nectar to get you to relax, to listen to reason, to understand that you shouldn''t fear me. The faeries have always been the ones who have been persecuted. Thus, we''re the ones with the potential for great sympathy and compassion. Yet, you''re standing here before me, frightened, not really realizing that I''m giving you something that could harm my people more after we''ve already seen ages of persecution."


    It finally registered that Tatiana was giving me the dagger. I glanced at it as the proper connections were being created in my mind. The dagger was one of the Instruments of Korre. Doubt seeped into my thoughts. If my mother, Galileo, Sebastien, and then Kyrian had been here before me, and she hadn''t deemed them worthy, then this had to be another trick. "Why?" I breathed. "Why are you giving it to me?"


    "The seraph was betrayed by the mages ages ago. The entire universe witnessed the repercussions from that. We were there when he spiraled out of control; he came to us. He wanted to be put into a permanent stupor with all the nectar we had. He was shattered into a thousand pieces. After all Adriana put him through... the fact that he brought a mage back here to get something that was given to us from Aurora tells me he believes in this paradise. It tells me it is time for the concordat to be dissolved, just like Aurora said it would eventually.¡±


    Tatiana''s expression softened. This was the first time I had seen any emotional vulnerability from the queen. "After all this time, it''s hard to believe that it¡¯s time.¡±


    Hardly breathing, I reached up to collect the dagger from the queen. My hands were shaking as the dagger exchanged ownership.


    It was like I was under another enchantment. The queen¡¯s statements should have made me question everything that was happening, and yet I remained calm, focused on the dagger. There was nothing significant about it. I didn''t feel any jolts of excitement from holding it. At least with the sapphire necklace Sebastien had me wear during the masquerade, there was some emotional connection with it, even if it was just an appreciation of its beauty. The dagger was tarnished. The only shine that it emitted came from the tip of the largest emerald, which was the only jewel not smeared with dirt and dust. The hilt and blade needed polishing.


    "I''m sure. It''s time."


    I glanced up from the blade just as Tatiana waved her hand, and one of the doors opened. Beyond its threshold, I could see the revel in the clearing. The music and laughter carried into the circular foyer, brightening the shadows. "Go, Bria. You have what you came here for. Get the seraph and leave." Afraid to breathe, to even think that the instrument''s retrieval had been too easy¡ªthat the tricks had been lacking¡ªI nodded. I resisted the urge to bow before my departure and went towards the open door. My steps were weighted with my hesitation, my back stiff with paranoia that the queen would find another dagger amongst the cluttered tables to install into my spine. Yet, I made it to the threshold unmolested.


    I was barely over the threshold when the door slammed behind me. My senses were accosted at once with the blaring music and abundant, nauseating smells. Frantically, I searched the area for the seraph. Faces blurred together so much that I didn''t find him with my first casting search. Then, on my second, I saw a crowd of people surrounding one area. I could only assume that they were surrounding Kyrian. I ran through the clearing, dodging the revelers. When I got to the crowd, I pushed people aside. My assumption was proven correct, and at the last moment, I looked away from the man slumped against a chair carved out of a tree trunk. His invisibility shield had slipped. The faeries were staring at him with no regard for the curse. Some were stroking his wings with longing and admiration. I didn''t know enough about the curse to trust that I wouldn''t activate it. Maybe the curse was unresponsive to the faeries because of their demon blood.


    Instead, I shoved the dagger into my waistband and went to help Kyrian. My knees buckled; I almost collapsed under his weight when I got him to his feet. The seraph weighed twice the amount I did. His head lolled onto my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I straightened enough to stumble forward a step. Kyrian followed, his feet dragging. The faeries surrounding us stepped back. I focused on the opening they created, and then the point where the trail started up again. Through sheer force of will, I got Kyrian to the trailhead. The faeries followed us. Once there, I grunted, "Kyrian, can you get us back?"


    Kyrian''s head fell off my shoulder and onto his chest. He mumbled, "Paper flowers in the sky. The crescent moon tinkling..."


    I exhaled in frustration before one faery behind me twittered. One of them¡ªthe one with extra-long fingers, purple hair, and bugs¡ªtossed glitter at my feet. I felt several hands shove against my back. The force was too much, and I stumbled forward into the glitter. My feet tangled with Kyrian''s. I coughed as the wind picked up around me, tossing some of the glitter into my mouth. I was soon in the middle of the whirlwind¡¯s tight embrace, it whipping my hair around and obstructing my vision, until there was nothing. The wind disappeared along with the music and faerie chortling, and I found myself back in my apartment''s serene living area.


    It was with a massive relief that I let Kyrian fall onto the longer couch. Feeling alongside of him, I found his legs and lifted them up onto the couch. I kept my gaze averted as to not activate the curse. With a large breath, I took a step backwards.


    The exertion of using his magic, faerie nectar, and horizontal position had forced Kyrian into a stupor. I could hear his breathing become more rhythmic and the shifting of his body as he unconsciously settled into a more comfortable position. I hoped that the faerie nectar mimicked the effects of alcohol and not a true opiate, so Kyrian would sleep off the substance and be back to his agitating judgmental self.


    My hand found its way into my waistband, where it located the faeries'' dagger. I pulled out the instrument. There was no reason to hold on to it, not when Sebastien had started a collection of the other instruments, and someone had tried to steal one of them. Besides, I wanted to inform him of my progress and the day''s success. I was eager to renew his confidence in assigning the task to me. I left Kyrian lying on the apartment''s couch, where he would be safe until he woke up, and went to give Sebastien the dagger.


    Sebastien was delighted when I passed the instrument over to him, if a little surprised. As neither of us knew Kyrian had finally consented to work on the assignment, the day''s turn of events had been unexpected. I left Sebastien''s office with the promise of finding more instruments soon. Yet, he had to wait. The sun was already setting, and I was scheduled to meet with Macaila and Cassiah at the Amhersts'' row house. Mr. Amherst was cooking tonight.


    A part of my mind was on Kyrian as I walked to Macaila''s home. My thoughts were layered with concern, and a bit of amusement¡ªespecially when I thought about Jay coming to my apartment and finding the seraph on my couch¡ªthat is, if he had been in the city and not at Caligo. That would have churned up its own chaos. The two males had extreme stubborn and headstrong personalities I was certain their first encounter wouldn''t be smooth.


    When I arrived at the Amherst home, Macaila and Cassiah were already waiting for me on the stoop just outside of the front door. Excitement flared within me at the sight of them and I rushed towards the stoop. The two weeks had been enough time for Macaila to acquire highlights in her dark brown hair. The two of them were turned inwards towards each other, as if they were having a private and intense conversation. They were bundled against the elements. Macaila noticed me first, as she had been performing a constant scan of the road. She immediately halted the conversation¡ªwhich seemed important¡ªand broke out into a run towards me. I barely stopped in time before she slammed into me, and her arms wrapped around me in an embrace. My arms awkwardly returned it.


    "You''re here!" she exclaimed, squeezing me tighter.


    I laughed. "I wouldn¡¯t miss it for anything! You have no idea how much I was looking forward to this."


    "You have no idea how much I missed you!"


    Cassiah, who''d approached at a much slower pace, smiled, shaking his head. "You two act like you haven''t seen each other in years."


    Macaila squeezed me even tighter. "She''s my best friend!" she professed before releasing me and taking a step back. I was aware that we were standing right in the middle of pedestrian traffic. Our threesome was forcing it to reroute around us. Although we got a few passing glares and insults mumbled underneath breaths, I ignored everything else. "Where did you go after your class with Leander? We finished our class a bit early and went to look for you!" Macaila explained.


    "I wasn''t there," I explained. "I was visiting the faeries."


    "What?" Macaila''s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "The daemeyri hate us now."


    "I know. It was unexpected for me, too. Kyrian just came into Leander''s classroom and announced that he needed me to come with him to the faeries."


    Macaila shook her head in disbelief. She raised one of her hands as if to stop me from speaking any further. She didn''t even escalate into her usual excited frenzy whenever Kyrian came up in our conversations. "There are so many questions I want to ask right now. Unfortunately, they have to wait."


    I nodded and jerked my chin towards the entrance to her home. "Let''s go. I''m famished. I''ll tell you everything after dinner."


    I waited for Macaila and Cassiah to move with me. When they didn''t, I hesitated and waited for an explanation. Looking uncomfortable, Macaila brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Bria," she started. "I know you expected dinner tonight, but something came up."


    "What''s going on?" I stared at the two of them. Neither of them would look me in the eye. There was a shadow of reluctance surrounding Macaila, while Cass kept his emotions checked.


    Macaila threw an examining glance around us until her eyes finally fell on a squad of soldiers who had just arrived on the street. Her lips fell into a frown, although the soldiers only gave us a passing glance. Shaking her head, Macaila''s gaze returned to me. "Just trust us, will you?" She pivoted towards her home and darted up the stairs. With more force than necessary, she yanked the door open. I followed her directly across the threshold, with Cassiah taking up the rear.


    Mr. and Mrs. Amherst were present in the main living quarters of the family home. Mr. Amherst was seated on the couch with a magazine spread out before him on his lap. His tapping foot revealed his apprehension. Mrs. Amherst was pacing behind the couch. Her arms were crossed. Her back was tense as her eyes flickered upwards towards the ceiling. Her lips barely made a smile as she acknowledged me with a small nod. Meaghan was absent, and then I remembered she had taken an extended break in Nicaragua.


    "Well, here she is," Macaila announced boldly before moving towards the dining table and pulling down on her scarf so she could breathe easily. "Exactly as you asked me to do." Her irritated words were directed toward her father. Her lips pressed tightly together. She leaned against the table and crossed her arms. Her glare landed on the ground. Mr. Amherst opened his mouth to say something back to his daughter before abruptly (and probably wisely) shutting it again.


    There was one aspect of my reaction that I couldn''t control, and that was the tenseness in my body that flared up over Macaila''s words. Had she delivered me for slaughter? The only reason I had not fled yet was because Cassiah still stood at my back.


    "Go upstairs to the roof," Mr. Amherst advised me.


    "Why?" I questioned. I sought Macaila in the attempt to get answers from her. Her gaze was downcast, refusing to meet mine. Cassiah''s was skillfully blank. Mr. Amherst just shook his head, as if he didn''t want to voice the reason. Mrs. Amherst continued her pacing.


    With a sigh and heavy, apprehensive steps, I found my way towards the staircase. My ascent was slow, methodical, wary. I paused every so often to glance above me to check the shadows lingering in the landings and listen for any noises that would reveal what type of surprise waited for me on the roof. There was nothing. A part of me was reluctant to follow through with the Amhersts'' orders. The day had already been long, starting with Leander''s tedious magic lesson, and then progressing into dealing with one of the faerie queens. My energy was depleted, and I didn''t feel like playing anymore games.


    Upon my last step up onto the roof, I quickly stepped to the right of the threshold and scanned the seating area. Two people were standing in the shadows along the perimeter. One of them I had seen recently at the sunken castle. Metternich was now within the confines of the Amhersts'' rooftop patio. He was protected against the cold''s sting by a bulky jacket, scarf, and knitted hat.


    My eyes darted over to identify the second man.


    My incredulous gasp left my lips before I could halt it.


    "Galileo?"

 FORTY-ONE

    I had known he was alive.


    Not after the Union Station massacre. No, then, I had believed as Jay had: that the incident had stolen Galileo away from us. Those distressed feelings of grief that night in the hotel room had been authentic. I had been certain I had cradled his corpse in my arms in the great hall. His chest hadn''t risen in those moments; I hadn''t felt his warm breath against my arms; his facial expression was bland, serene even¡ªwhich was extremely unusual for his constantly calculating mind. When Jay had pulled on my arm to get me to stand up and run before the police got there, I left believing that Galileo was dead. There was nothing that proved otherwise for the next several weeks.


    It was one of the most shocking moments in my life when I was interrupted from my constant suicidal monologue in my cell at the Colorado Mental Health Institute and brought to a conference room. After bewitching the doctors and employees, Galileo stood in the conference room, as cool and collected as ever. At first, I couldn''t believe the truth of what I was seeing. It was impossible. While Galileo was the one who had taught me everything I knew about espionage, I didn''t think he could pull off a convincing corpse. And yet, he was standing in front of me. I was shaken, not at all in my right mind. I stumbled back towards the door, intending to rush out of the conference room.


    It was locked from the outside.


    A half-sob left my mouth as I flung myself around to face my mentor. "You''re not real," I threw at him through wobbly lips.


    "Bria," Galileo responded cautiously.


    "You''re dead. I saw you. You didn''t have a pulse," I hissed.


    Galileo glanced at the chair nearest to me. Within seconds, it moved away from the table as if moved by an invisible force and offered easy access to use it. Galileo claimed his own. "I know you have been through a lot in these past weeks. If you would just let me explain, maybe I can help you through some of that mental war you''ve been fighting with yourself. Maybe it will help." His tone caressed the tension in the room. My back was pressed against the door, my legs were unstable underneath my body. There was enough rationality in me to examine Galileo¡ªhis appearance, his mannerisms¡ªand compare it to the wealth of experience I had on him. He had been in my life for twelve years. I knew exactly how he held his fork. I knew which side of his mouth twitched upwards whenever Jay made some silly comment. I knew he had a cowlick that he could never seem to conquer. I tried to find something with the Galileo before me now that would contradict the real one that I knew from before. Tried to find something that would reveal he was an imposter.


    When I didn''t immediately sit down, Galileo sighed. "I had to improvise quickly when shit went down that day. I had to act right in that moment when I realized what was happening, and there wasn''t any time to advise you of it." He sounded apologetic.


    Galileo and his plans. He never walked around without one brewing in his mind.


    "How are you alive?" I breathed. That was the contradiction that demanded to be answered.


    "I was never dead," Galileo confessed. "Remember how I was meeting those men in the restaurant next door?" I nodded slowly. "We had just enough time during that meeting for them to say some things that made me concerned. Before I could try to find a way to extract more information from them, they ended the meeting and raced back to the station. I knew something had gone wrong, that you had tripped some alarm. I entered the hall right as the massacre started. I saw you using vast amounts of power, or magic. Well, not using, because it was controlling you, as if your body could no longer contain it. It exploded right in a public place. With what I had just learned, I saw an opportunity. Yet, it was an opportunity that had to be taken right then, or else it would vanish. So, I took it. I pretended I was dead, if only to give me time to follow through on that opportunity."


    Something broke in me. I accepted him and his words as truth.


    My legs were trembling so much that I barely made it over to the office chair. I collapsed onto it. My elbows sunk to the table as my face buried itself into my palms. "I don''t understand what''s going on," I cried. "I''ve hurt so many people. They are charging me with so many counts of murder, they might as well as execute me right here so that they don''t have to jump through all those hoops for my trial. They are never going to let me go. I''m never going to be free again. I''m going insane with all this guilt. I¡¯ve killed a lot of people, and I don¡¯t know how I did it.¡± My gaze betrayed me and briefly glanced at him through the waterfall of my tears. There was only sympathy in his gaze.


    "I think you''re a pawn in all of this," he said.


    I snorted in bitterness. "It still doesn''t take away what I did."


    "Do you even know what you did? How you did it?" Galileo inquired with a hint of rage. My silence and distraught stare answered for me. "There is a much bigger world out there, Bria, one that I never told you about because your mother demanded you remain oblivious to it, regardless of my own opinions on the matter. The universe is much bigger than the mortal realm with all its presidents and assholes. What if I told you that there is a world of magic out there, and what you did a couple of weeks ago was have a magical explosion? What if I told you I have a theory that your mother was right in her fear of you being used as a pawn, and bad people in that magical world discovered your existence? They tampered with the dormant magic inside of you and caused it to explode as it did. That you are not to blame for those deaths, and they are?"


    His words offered an excuse to place the blame on someone else if I dared to believe him. I wanted to believe him. I had a cynical nature, however, and thought his explanation was complete nonsense. It sounded like nonsense. My mother had spent most of my childhood telling me that the magical world was just fiction. There was only this world that I could see and hear and experience.


    And yet...


    I had seen the incident footage briefly in the interrogation room. There wasn¡¯t any explanation for what I had done. I knew I hadn''t possessed any weapons during the incident. That the silver lightning erupted from me, as did fire and water, and harmed everyone around me. It had destroyed property. From what I had seen in the video, there was not any limit to what I could do when I was lost in the throes of power.


    ¡°How would they have tampered with my magic?" I questioned in a monotone.


    Galileo shook his head. "I don''t know."


    "Why would they have done that?"


    Another shake of his head. "I don''t know."


    "You don''t know very much."


    "I know." Galileo smiled softly. "That''s why I''m giving you another assignment."


    I stared at him, perplexed, and wondering if he even understood the situation I was facing right now. "Are you going to get me out of jail somehow?" Would he find some way to convince the judge to give me a bond, just like he found a way to convince the hospital staff here to let him visit me?


    A saddened expression overwhelmed his face. "No, I think this case has to take its course. If you get to the point where you''re in prison for a year after you''ve been sentenced, then we''ll revisit it. Although I don''t think that point will ever come. There are invisible players involved in a game around us, people with insurmountable amounts of power. I think they are behind the massacre from a couple of weeks ago, and now that you are on their radar, it''s quite possible that they will arrange for your freedom. They''re going to want to bring you to their world and use you. They may decorate it as ''saving you¡¯ and give you a lot of privileges and wealth. I want you to go with them. I want you to infiltrate their government and try to find out as much as you can."


    I bit my bottom lip in consideration. "These people were involved with the compass?"


    "These people have been involved with every single mission I''ve sent you on," Galileo said. "These are the people your mother had been working against leading up to her death. I took up her work in the attempt to save our race and the mortals from a terrible demise."


    "What do you think is going on?" I asked pointedly. Galileo never spoke like this: full of doom. He hardly ever exaggerated, and when he did, it was usually because Jay had pissed him off.


    "Do you remember the monster your mother went to fight when she left you with me?"


    "How could I ever forget?" That was the night she had died, and then the next night, the monster had come after me.


    "He goes by the name of Zane Konstantinos," Galileo announced. "And after eleven years, I''ve realized that your mother was unsuccessful in destroying him, and he''s now pulling the strings in our government. He has always been an ambitious man. His intelligence is unparalleled, and I''ve seen enough from him to know that he is strategic. He tried to gain a seat of power in the government before. He was thwarted due to some crimes he committed. He knows he would never gain the same amount of public influence he had before. I think he has secretly infiltrated the government instead and is making decisions behind the scenes. In these past eleven years, I think he''s been able to amass followers and elevate them to positions of power. He''s been able to amass a lot of power and influence that way as well. I''ve been out of Astraera¡ªthe mage world¡ªfor far too long, and I''m no longer certain of where people''s loyalties lay. The mage public is being deceived. And without any evidence, my hands are tied. If I go to the public with just my theories, no one will take me seriously."


    I had become so involved in the conversation that my anxiety was heightened when I heard people walking by the conference room. I barely breathed as I waited for one of them to open the door and interrupt our clandestine meeting. It would be pure pandemonium if they saw I was out of my suicide watch cell talking to an unauthorized person. Galileo was silent as well, waiting for the footsteps to pass. No one opened the door, and when I couldn''t hear their footsteps anymore, I breathed easier. "You want me to gain access to this government and see if he is the puppet master? Become a double agent?"


    "More or less," Galileo shrugged. "I want to know what he''s up to. That he went out of his way to acquire that compass rose I sent you to get means something."


    I settled my forearms on the table and leaned my upper body against them. "You really think he''ll get me out of jail?"


    "Maybe not in the next couple of months, but yes. I think if you wait long enough, he''s going to do something. I want you to go along with it. I want you to play the amazed young woman who did not know that this magical world existed¡ªwhich shouldn''t be too difficult, considering you know next to nothing about it. Eat the bread and wine out of his hand, become his loyal confidant, or whoever he''s using as a puppet. See if you can confirm my theories." Galileo paused for a couple of moments. "This mission is going to take years, Bria. It''s the longest I''ve ever requested from you. By now, you know you can''t return to your life in Nashville. The Fates have altered your path. This is the only one you''re being offered now."


    The way he announced the obvious, with doom coating every syllable of his speech, made me swallow. "I know. I''ve already accepted that," I claimed. "What are you going to be doing?"


    Galileo sighed. "Until we know more, it isn''t safe for me to reveal that I''m still alive. We don''t know how far Zane Konstantinos''s influence reaches, and he may have spies everywhere. If he thinks you are alone in this world, he''ll be more susceptible to telling you information that we can use." At my discouraged expression, Galileo rushed to promise, "I''ll be by your side for this entire mission, just in the shadows. You''re the only one who knows I''m alive, and for right now, that''s in our favor."


    "What about Jay?"


    "What about him?" Galileo''s eyes narrowed.


    "Are you going to bring him in? I think he''s still in jail, too. I think they got him as an accomplice or something."


    Galileo shook his head. "They''ll let him go, eventually. I don''t want him involved in this, Bria. He''s not to know that I''m alive." Galileo''s gaze stressed this fact. "The universe has cleaved him from us, and he needs to start his own journey. This mission is too critical for him to be involved."


    My lips parted in dismay. "He won''t know where to go if his charges are dropped."


    "I don''t trust him at all," Galileo declared bluntly. "He''s too weak to be involved. He has to learn how to stand on his own feet."


    Galileo''s blunt words stung even though they weren''t directed at me. They could have been, though. I had allowed myself to be consumed by my grief and remorse as soon as I accepted the fact that I had become a murderer in a single moment. I had spiraled down a dark hole. Instead of fighting to stay alive, I had struggled to find a way to die, just to end those chaotic thoughts in my mind. I had become weak, pitiful, and suicidal. It had landed me in southern Colorado, locked up in a rubber cell, with only a suicide gown and blanket to keep me company until the next set of psychiatrists appeared. As if he could follow my train of thought, Galileo continued, "You need to get yourself better, too. I can''t have you trying to slit your wrists every time you get a pencil or razor. You need to be levelheaded when he comes to get you. Get yourself out of here, back to the jail, and start the process of getting to your trial. We''ll see what happens next and go from there. This is going to be a long, grueling chess match between us and him. We''re forcing him to make the next move."


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I straightened in my seat; his prep talk greatly improved my focus. "I think having a purpose helps," I agreed. "And knowing that I didn''t kill you."


    "You didn''t kill the others, either." Galileo professed boldly. My heartbeat was thumping against my chest as I stared at him, too afraid to believe him. Too afraid to become too enthralled with the possibility of exoneration.


    "The compass rose is in the Denver PD evidence warehouse," I advised. "If you think you need it, or it needs to be moved to a safer place to keep it from him, it''s there." I was frightened over the possibility of Galileo getting caught if he tried to steal it. I shoved the fear from my mind.


    Galileo smiled a little and shook his head. "We''ll keep it there. It''s probably safer there, especially if Konstantinos doesn''t know where it is."


    I milled over another issue in my mind. Galileo waited as I found the words to voice it. "A couple of days ago, I became so out of control that the staff here injected ketamine into me to calm me down. It knocked me out. Yet, it seemed as if my spirit was transported elsewhere. To this new world. There was a guy there. He told me we were in a sanctuary, and he called himself Hawk. Could this be something Zane Konstantinos is trying to manipulate me with? Should I pursue this while I''m incarcerated?" I checked his expression for any confusion; there wasn''t any. He understood everything I had just said. He knew exactly what a sanctuary was.


    Galileo frowned, a calculating gleam overtaking his gaze. His elbow landed on the table as the same hand supported his chin. He didn''t say anything as he quickly evaluated the situation. "If you can, stay with it," Galileo finally said. "Although I''m not too familiar with the sanctuaries, I do know that they are their own form of power. You learning how to manipulate that power could be beneficial down the line. Just be careful¡ªespecially since we don''t know who this other man is or what his intentions are."


    "I will," I confirmed.


    Our first meeting ended soon after that. Several more would follow it throughout the years, always tucked in the shadows where most people refused to look. He sent coded messages through the jail system once or twice¡ªusually when I got bored and disheartened waiting for Zane Konstantinos to come back to the chessboard and make his move. After my escape, Galileo scheduled rendezvous around the mage city. I became his own knight to move on the board in the game he was playing with this mysterious Zane Konstantinos, who still hadn''t made an appearance. Sometimes, I wondered if Galileo''s theory about Konstantinos¡¯s role as the grand puppet master of the mage government wasn''t just paranoia.


    So, I experienced my first burst of astonishment in a long time when I saw Galileo sharing air on the Amhersts'' roof with Metternich.


    "Galileo?" I screeched, feigning my surprise.


    "It''s okay, Bria," Galileo assured as he approached. "He knows everything."


    I was unable to release the tension in my fists. "How?" I thought you were supposed to remain inconspicuous until we knew who the masters and puppets were.


    "He suspected soon after you arrived in the city."


    "I consider myself the guardian of this city. It wasn''t difficult to realize that someone else was suddenly lurking around," Metternich said. "I tried to lure him out with the fireworks. I only succeeded in drawing attention to myself by the wrong people¡ªincluding you and the Amherst girl. After that, Galileo and I warily circled each other for weeks before he came forward and announced exactly who he was. It was before you and I met over Midwinter."


    "I still don''t know who you are," I confronted warily.


    "We have not been properly introduced," Metternich agreed. He straightened from his leaning stance against the retaining wall. I had to blink a couple of times, caught totally off guard by this change of events. The male whom I had met in the sunken castle now stood before me. My knees locked from my anxiety. My mind raced as it attempted to connect all the pieces together. There wasn''t enough time and Metternich was soon a couple of feet before me. He slammed his hand over his heart in greeting and bowed his head. The pride and strength in his gaze were potent; he had exhibited none of this at the castle when we had first met. Then, he had been soft-spoken and cautious. "Osiris Metternich, the last remaining prince of the Penderyn line, leader of the Resistance."


    My jaw locked. My gaze was frozen on the Penderyn Prince''s face. He settled in one of the chairs on the deck. "You must have a lot of questions," he commented when I didn''t say anything.


    I shook my head, not knowing where to start. My thoughts were in a jumbled mess as I stared at the Penderyn Prince, illuminated by the ambient lighting. "How are you related to the Penderyn line?" was the first question I forced out.


    "I was a first cousin to the girls, the princesses."


    I unlocked my jaw. "Why don''t you simply take back the throne and rise to power? You''re the Penderyn Prince. You must have some type of influence, especially with the Resistance." I bit my bottom lip as multiple questions and unknowns stopped me from saying more. At this point, I wasn''t even sure how large the Resistance was. I wasn''t sure of how much of a grasp Zane Konstantinos had on the mage government¡ªif he even did. I still lacked substantial evidence confirming Galileo''s theory was true.


    Metternich''s expression remained neutral. "Do you not know what happened to the royal family?"


    "They were assassinated, right?"


    "Do you know by whom?" Metternich quizzed. He leaned forward in his seat and set his chin on top of his fist.


    My head tilted. "Macaila''s parents told me Konstantinos ordered it after he escaped Caligo."


    Metternich nodded. "Yes, and a day later, the entire royal family, except for me, was assassinated. All in one sweep. The main family was attacked in the castle. Somehow, the assassins got past the castle guards, who were supposed to be the best. How remains a mystery to this day. There were enough assassins sent out to exterminate the entire family tree that spanned across the globe. Fortunately for me, I was somewhere the assassins couldn''t get to. I returned as soon as I got word about what had happened¡ªafter taking precautions and faking my death. Those snakes in South America can be venomous, especially when you mistakenly step in their nests.


    "When I returned to Astraera, I knew something had gone amiss. It was months after the assassinations, and I didn''t dare believe that the danger had passed. I returned under secrecy and kept to the shadows. Everything had returned to normalcy. Before my return, the Senate had voted that the royal institution was obsolete and unnecessary. The castle had sunk on its own, rumor being that too much blood weighted it down. The Senate and chancellor elections were just underway. The political climate was as you''d expect: two parties bickering back and forth in the effort to get their candidate in the position of power. But you learn things when you''re hiding the shadows, observing and not talking. I started to suspect that Zane Konstantinos had found his way into the Senate or the chancellor''s office. It is for that reason alone that I reactivated the Resistance."


    I exchanged a glance with Galileo. "That''s not the first time I''ve heard that theory."


    Metternich nodded. "I know. It was one of the first things Galileo and I discussed when we finally spoke."


    I blew out a large breath through my lips before moving to claim one of the seats. "I know I haven''t been in Astraera as long as you have... in the time that I have, I have been able to talk to Sebastien. He''s taken an interest in my learning, and I''ve been helping him find the Instruments of Korre. Since Galileo thought the same thing you do, during this time, I''ve been trying to find indicators he''s associated with the lunatic. There haven''t been any. He''s just adamantly focused on the bringing in the paradise."


    "Can we agree on one thing, though?" Metternich inquired. "Wisdom is dangerous, is it not?"


    "It can be," I hedged, thrown by this sudden shift in conversation.


    "We would be fools if we thought for one moment that Zane Konstantinos did not possess the capability for such wisdom," Metternich lectured. "When he and your mother first started out, they were overzealous. They stood on street corners and preached to anyone who would listen to eighteen-year-olds'' political ideologies. That¡¯s not to say that they didn¡¯t get quite a few followers and mentorships. Oh, they did, and they staged several protests¡ªnot all peaceful¡ªin Astraera. While Konstantinos may have thought he had the voice of the people, he did not have the voice of power; that rested in the dynasty¡¯s hands and Senate. He knew he lacked power to make his ideologies a part of the mage government. Some say that is why he started to study the shadows and demonology. To achieve that power.


    "Alas, he was caught and sentenced to life in prison. He knew enough to break out of that life sentence, only to never be seen again," Metternich continued. "The guards at Caligo the night he escaped were all interviewed. As Konstantinos was kept in solitary confinement, they were the only ones who could be interviewed. The guards stated they were unaware of his ability to escape, and to this day, no one knows how he did it. The prison shuts down magic."


    "Everyone described him as being extroverted and passionate. Then why hasn''t he been seen since he broke out of Caligo? It seems like being doomed to living a life in shadows like you two are doing right now would be a prison sentence all by itself for him." I pointed out with an eyebrow raise.


    "Exactly. The eighteen-year-old Konstantinos would be bragging to someone about his success. He would be back on the street corner, preaching he had done something no one had ever done before. Yet, like you said, he hasn''t been seen. So where is he?" Metternich prompted.


    Despite the shivers tingling down my spine over what he was suggesting, I answered with my own question. "Why can''t you believe that my mother was successful in her quest to defeat him?" I cast the question out to both Galileo and Metternich, almost pleading. Please don''t let her death be in vain.


    "There¡¯s suspicious activity occurring in the government if you know where to look. For instance, the attack on the castle the night you arrived? The one the government claimed was conducted by the Resistance? The Resistance was not involved in any of it."


    I was immediately taken aback by this declaration. "What about the masked man who stole the erion feed and declared it was?" I protested.


    "Not us," Metternich denied. "Not the Resistance."


    "Who then?"


    A small, tight smile crept across his face. "I personally believe that the government themselves sanctioned the attack and declared it was the Resistance in order to keep eyes from looking too closely at them."


    "Look at who was killed that evening," Galileo added. "Every single senator who was killed that night was from the same political party."


    If what Metternich and Galileo said was true, then the implications would be too frightening to even consider. I quickly reviewed my memories of that night. I had been there, eating dinner with people had been oblivious to death''s shadows lingering over them. Yet, there were murderers at that dinner table as well, if the attack had been staged by government members. When the incident erupted, I had been talking to Jay in front of the castle. The smoke and pandemonium concealed too much in the dining room, and then I had been a victim of a remaining explosive. Within those memories, I tried to find something, a clue to indicate the truth behind what was being said.


    "What better way to destroy your enemies than killing them and framing a group of rebels?" Metternich tilted his head in challenge. I couldn''t find fault with his reasoning, and thus ventured down another avenue of questioning.


    "Why hasn''t the Resistance taken action? While you''re sitting here, having meetings, the government is preparing for the eventual unity of the entire universe."


    "I want more information."


    "That''s why you have brought me in, isn''t it?" I sighed.


    Metternich nodded. "We''ve tried to infiltrate the offices. It¡¯s impossible, as they are tightly sealed. We''ve had meager success with plants throughout the city, although nothing major. I have ears like your friends in bars. The soldiers don''t know too much, while those who do don''t venture out into the city. They have the entertainment brought to them in their own residences. For now, we have the time to do our due diligence. I''d rather have the plan we formulate be successful at decapitating the beast; otherwise, we risk just annoying it with tiny slaps that do absolutely nothing. I want our first attack to be our only attack. I know Galileo has already established you as a double agent, and cleverly so. I don''t want to change anything with that."


    "I can try to get you information," I accepted. "I''m sure Galileo has told you everything already."


    Galileo nodded in confirmation.


    Metternich''s eyes peered into mine. "Just do what you can."


    I leaned back in my seat. "If I do find something major, how do you plan on stopping the mage government? They have an entire military force on their side. I''m quite certain they brainwash their soldiers into fervent loyalty," I quipped, thinking about Jay and the faerie drug he was addicted to.


    "We have enough people loyal to the Resistance that we can launch a guerrilla attack and tear the entire organization down if we know where to strike," Metternich confirmed. He settled his arms on the chair. "For everyone''s safety, in case one of them gets brought in for questioning, I refuse to reveal members'' identities. I meet with everyone in small groups or individually if something comes up." He reached into his pocket.


    "On the off chance that Sebastien discovers more Resistance members? Like those five he hung for treason a couple of months ago?"


    "Exactly." Metternich nodded and withdrew his hand. His fingers were folded up over something in his palm. "Their deaths were tragic. We did our best to free them. There was just too much evidence of their membership that they were doomed from the discovery. This is one reason why I have kept every member sequestered into a particular group. The fewer people implicated, should someone be accused of treason or should someone betray us, the better. Your group will be with the Amhersts."


    Metternich stretched out his arm in between us and opened his fingers to reveal a solid silver pocket watch sitting in his palm. Hesitantly, I took it. The lighting was too minimal that it was impossible to see the details on the watch. "This is how I will communicate with you, to let you know when I need to meet with you. When I send a message over it, the clock''s hands will change to relate the time and place of the meeting."


    I squeezed my fingers over the watch. Just like that, it seemed as if I had been inducted as a part of the Resistance. "Are you the only one who knows who every single Resistance member is?" I inquired.


    "I am," Metternich confirmed.


    I bit my lip. "Is Galileo going to be put into some group as well?" As much as I tried to conceal my discontent, it still seeped through.


    "Galileo hasn''t been around long enough to learn who has pledged alliance to the Resistance," Metternich declared. My lips pressed tightly together, and it felt as if my jaw had locked rigid.


    "That''s not really my focus right now either," Galileo answered. "You know that my focus has always been to stop the darkness from dominating the world. Metternich knows who our army consists of and manages them. I''m much better at strategy and planning our next moves than people management."


    I retreated inside of myself. I didn''t like that Galileo lacked information about who the other members were. He had proven himself trustworthy. He was in a similar position as Metternich. Everyone believed he was dead. If anything, being oblivious to the inner workings of the Resistance placed us at a disadvantage. "And what are our next steps?" I inquired through the blockage in my throat.


    "Perhaps give us one of the instruments when you get it," Galileo suggested. I had been keeping him informed of my assignments. "Until we really know for sure that the instruments are truly for Aurora¡¯s paradise, I''m reluctant to give the government a full monopoly over them."


    "You''ll get the next one," I agreed.


    "One of our members also came forward with a possible solution to your magic," Metternich informed. "She has suggested an ancient test to determine your affinity. Apparently, it''s rather painful. I think it¡¯s worth it: if we can learn which affinity you have, it could lead to you being able to control your magic."


    I agreed to the test despite my lack of confidence in it. Soon after that, Metternich took his leave from the Amhersts'' rooftop patio after saying his farewells. It left Galileo and me alone. I waited until I could no longer hear Metternich''s descending footsteps before turning towards Galileo. I was careful to keep my voice at a lower volume as to not be overheard. "I thought you were going to remain inconspicuous."


    "I am being inconspicuous," Galileo claimed.


    My teeth gritted together. I was sure that Galileo could see the whites of my eyes when I said, "Not when you have just revealed your identity to another person."


    "Bria, he''s fine. He won¡¯t betray me." Galileo waved away my concerns.


    "You told me you were concerned that you couldn''t trust anyone here, and it was best that no one knew you were alive. I thought that Resistance leaders fell underneath that anyone definition."


    "I trust him," Galileo returned just as passionately.


    "I hope you don''t live to regret that statement."


    Because at this point, I didn''t trust anyone.

 FORTY-TWO

    The sound of a gunshot blasted through my eardrums.


    It was followed by a rush of pain erupting through the upper left side of my chest. My hands pressed against the agitated area, and quickly, they were coated in my blood. Disorientated, I frantically tried to find my bearings. I was standing on one of the top steps of the Rialto Bridge overlooking the Grand Canal in Venice. I had been here before on one of Galileo''s missions. I had ascended and descended these very steps with Jay on one side and Kit on the other. Jay and I had dawdled at the vendors who had their carts arranged along the bridge. Tipsy on Italian wine, we had laughed and produced silly accents while pressing the Venetian masks from the vendor stands against our faces. Kit had stood off to the side, shaking his head over our antics. His own gaze had been drawn to the notebooks bounded in leather. The city had been busy with pedestrian traffic from the locals and tourists. In my memory, blue skies stretched above our heads; we heard the faint serenades of gondoliers floating underneath us; the seawater was calm as it slowly lapped against the buildings that jutted out of the ocean. An ancient compromise between land and water had been in place for centuries.


    Everything had changed.


    The city had been demolished by a tsunami. The streets were flooded. Gondolas were idly drifting down the canals upside down. Water sodden bodies were floating next to the boats. They were facedown, bloated, and lifeless. The cause of their deaths was obvious: drowning. The sky was overcast with dark storm clouds, which were leaking bales of rain and ashes. This very bridge hosted a million footfalls a day. Now, I was the only one on it.


    At the sight of the ashes, a sob got caught in my throat.


    At the sight of the bodies everywhere, a strangled scream erupted from my mouth.


    Another gunshot echoed in between the buildings. I felt the rush of the bullet right next to my ear as it flew past¡ªtoo close for comfort. Frightened and wide-eyed, I searched the docks for the threat. I found it. Three males were ducked behind a tethered gondola. I saw two long gun barrels pointed directly at me. The last male seemed to possess a handgun.


    It was enough to fuel my body with the adrenaline it needed to find cover. Turning my back on the shooters seemed counter-productive and cowardly. I was without any other choice. The bridge''s natural descent to the other side of the canal offered brief cover from the threat. Yet, the bottom steps were flooded and slowed me down as the water came up to my knees. My heartbeat was rapid; I feared to turn around to assess whether I was being pursued. I couldn''t hear past the swishing noises my own waterlogged run made.


    By the time I made it off the bridge, the water was up to my mid-thighs. I kept one hand on my wound. This, in combination with the water, made it difficult to reach one of Venice''s narrow alleyways. I fought for their concealment¡ªif only to give me a couple of seconds to figure out what to do. I darted into the alleyway. I lunged for an entryway''s alcove that provided a small bit of cover. I pressed my back against the wall. I struggled to gain control of my breathing. My wet hair was plastered to my face, obstructing my vision, and with my free hand, I swept it back. I glanced down at where my hand was pressed against my chest. The vividness of the red contrasted with the white shirt I was wearing. I struggled to remember where I had been before Venice. Although my memory was hazy, I was convinced I had been in Leander''s classroom.


    I slammed my head back against the door and shut my eyes. I didn''t even know why my survival instincts were activated. Another massacre had occurred. From the amount of corpses I had seen in the Grand Canal alone, the death toll had to be astronomical. Water levels were rising with the nonstop rain. It was creeping up around my hips where I stood. I had made a grave mistake. I should have kept running. The water was going to slow me down.


    "Why are you hiding, Bella? Why don''t you try to fight us? Use your powers? You can''t actually be afraid of guns." A masculine voice called out in Italian. The men had crossed the bridge. I could hear them pushing across the boardwalk, approaching the alleyway I had chosen. I swallowed and hoped that they had piss-poor observational skills.


    "I thought you were supposed to be a threat. Yet, here you are, running away as soon as you are confronted. That''s fucking insane!" one of the other men hollered out.


    "She just wants to prey on the weak and innocent," the first man growled.


    "Not for much longer. We''ll kill her, cut off her head, and send it to her ex-boyfriend so he can fuck it."


    "The only way to kill a witch is by burning her," the third man corrected.


    I tried to make myself as small as I could when I sensed they were about to pass by the alleyway''s entrance. I used the alleyway''s storefronts to help with gaining a visual on them. Beyond the different wares that decorated the windows, their glass reflected some of what was happening on the boardwalk. It wasn''t long before I saw the first man pushing himself forward through the flooding, partly swimming, partly walking. I timed sucking in my stomach and holding my breath to when he passed by the alleyway''s entrance. His gaze darted down the alley; in his first pass, I remained invisible. That magic evaporated for his second. His eyes found me and latched onto me. "She''s down here!" He cried as he stumbled forward. He struggled to keep his rifle above water. The flooding was at my waist now.


    There was only one feasible action I could take now. Turning my back on him and swimming down the alley would give him permission to shoot me in the back of the head. I remained pressed against the doorway while he approached. It offered some sort of cover as he tried to fire off two random rounds that ricocheted off the side of the building and down the alley. His other two companions followed him. I used the storefronts'' glass and the sounds of their lurching forward to monitor their approach. The other two were further behind; I would have at least thirty seconds to neutralize the first man before the others got to me. The one with the pistol became the most dangerous, as it was the easiest to handle in the middle of this flooding. I would just have to hope that both his aim and balance in these conditions suffered.


    "Come out and play, Bella." The first man''s voice echoed in the alleyway. "Show us what witches are really made of."


    I was ready to pounce onto the first man''s shoulders when he was close enough. He was almost too small to perform the maneuver effectively on, and my hands slipped on his wet clothing. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as my hips swung around. My legs wrapped around his neck. I caught the man off-guard. He brought the rifle''s barrel upwards. I leaned forward and fastened my hands on the barrel. For a few fearful seconds, my grip slipped on the wet metal. It became a strength contest as the man tried to aim the tip of the barrel at my head and I tried to aim it upwards. It was a contest I was losing. The man was stumbling around too much, and I had to squeeze my legs tighter around the base of his shoulders.


    Reducing my control on the barrel and taking a risk, I slammed my right fist into his skull. I felt his grip loosen on the firearm and quickly pulled it up and out of his control. I flung it behind me. Snarling in anger, the man reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair. His strength was behind his yank. His other hand was digging right into my thigh where a pressure point was. I was dislodged from my seat on his shoulders. The man flung me around to face him. His grip shifted to holding my shoulder and quickly, he struck me in the head. Disoriented, I tried to push him away. There was murderous intent in his eyes. His lips were contorted into a permanent snarl.


    I felt his hands press down against the top of my skull¡ªpushing me down into the water. I wasn''t ready and took in mouthfuls of the salty, ashy water. Sputtering, I thrashed against his control. I just needed another mouthful of air. I attempted to maneuver away from his pressing hands. They only seemed to follow me where I went. It became worse when his fingers dug into my scalp and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He was thrusting me down as he was pushing himself up.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    I saw the seconds dwindling by. I believed in the possibility that this watery, ashy world would become my grave. Distracted for moments, I cursed Xavier and his witchcraft propaganda that he had been spewing across the world. He was the cause for this moment. I cursed whatever control my magic had over me¡ªmagic that was failing to activate in this moment when I was so near to drowning. I had already lost too much blood and was losing more of it¡ªthe red streams flowing from my chest through the water mimicked a gory art masterpiece.


    The water surge was pushing us close to one of the building''s walls. In one last effort for survival, I planted my feet against the wall and pushed upwards. The momentum''s force was stronger than the man''s grip. There was a faint eruption of pain as his failing grip was broken with a few pieces of my hair. As soon as my head met the surface of the water, I frantically sucked in air. The taste of ashes was already rampant in my mouth. I treaded water as I glanced around for the other threats. My main opponent was feet away from me, and swimming towards me. I didn''t see the other two.


    Hoping to maximize the distance between us so I could catch my breath, I swam away from him. I found a doorstep stoop I could stand on and still have my chin above water. The bullet wound to my chest was taking its toll on me. I felt dizzy; my vision had wavered. For support, I leaned against the doorframe, warily watching the snarling beast swimming towards me.


    I screamed when I suddenly felt large hands grip my upper arms from behind me. My balance tipped backwards into a bulky mass of muscle surrounded by a wet shirt. "Consider us even," a masculine voice hissed into my ear. I only begun to recognize that voice when I felt his seraph magic surround us.


    Kyrian.


    * * *


    Wet and miserable, Kyrian took me to my apartment at the castle. The instant interior warmth within the rooms fought against the chill residing in my bones. I slipped out of Kyrian''s grip and collapsed onto the ground. My strength had been eradicated. I curled up onto my side and pulled my knees into my chest. My hands pressed against the bullet wound. A puddle of water and ash formed around my body. My chest hiccuped from silent sobs. I knew I needed to get the wound seen to; I had been lucky the bullet hadn''t struck near any vital blood vessels or my spinal column. Yet, I couldn''t find the strength to accomplish that task.


    Kyrian stood above me. ¡°You¡¯re a mess.¡±


    My body trembled uncontrollably. Tears leaked out of my eyes as I gasped for air. Panic seized control of my body with the lingering thought that I would never gain control over my magic. Now that the rasa stone had been removed, it seemed impossible that I would ever coexist with my magic without it murdering people. Without me murdering people. I was fearful of turning on the news now and seeing the death toll listed in the scroll at the bottom of the screen.


    The panic dug its talons into me. It created a whirlwind of emotions I could only suffer through. I was locked within in its cage. It pushed my rationality far back into an abyss. I was aware I was trapped within a panic attack, yet lacked the ability to do anything about it. Lacked the ability to calm down. I almost was unaware of Kyrian, who¡ªto my complete surprise¡ªdropped to his knees next to me and placed his hands on me. He muttered my name above me. I was unable to latch onto his voice and let it pull me out of the abyss. My sobs continued to suffocate me. It was a battle in between sobbing and gasping for breath. It was all I could hear.


    Moving quickly, Kyrian slid behind me. He formed his body around mine and snaked his arms around my waist. Although his own clothing was wet from the Venice flooding, his body heat was enough to comfort me. His breath lingered against my neck and hair as he whispered my name and muttered encouragement that everything would be okay. That I would fight through this, and I was not alone.


    The panic attack subsided. In its afterglow, I was left exhausted, with pounding at the forefront of my head, and a raw throat. Kyrian remained cuddled behind me for the duration. One of his hands drifted to brushing my errant strands of hair off my neck. It was a soothing gesture. I took one last shuddering breath and stared blankly at the stretch of wooden planks that made up my living room floor. I was content to just lay here, as long as Kyrian continued to stroke my hair.


    But even that had to come to an end. "We need to remove that bullet from you," Kyrian murmured from behind me, returning to full business.


    I groaned. "I don''t feel like getting up."


    "You don''t have to." Kyrian disappeared for a couple of seconds. When he returned, he set a tactical first aid kit next to me. I didn''t even know where he got it. "I do need you to roll onto your back," he requested with a slight push against my shoulder, guiding me to my back. His hands removed mine from my wound. He started working on cleaning the area so he could easily identify the affected area. I stared up at the ceiling. By now, the panic''s afterglow had left me numb to the pain that was involved in Kyrian''s ministrations.


    "I don''t know why you are helping me," I muttered. "Especially after what I just did."


    Kyrian was silent for a couple of seconds. "You helped me," he finally responded, albeit tonelessly. "This is going to hurt. This is usually Evan¡¯s realm, though.¡± I faintly felt Kyrian stick tongs into the wound. With deft movements, he shifted them around until he had found where the bullet had lodged itself in my shoulder.


    "I wasn¡¯t going to leave you behind with the faeries when you didn¡¯t have any of your mental capabilities around you," I gasped.


    Kyrian chose to not acknowledge this. Instead, he continued, "You didn¡¯t activate the curse either. You could have. It couldn¡¯t have been easy for you to not look. The temptation had to have been there. Especially after Tatiana planted the seed in your mind." He slowly removed the tongs. The bloody bullet and the tongs produced a small clamor as he dropped them onto the floor in exchange for the stitching needle.


    "Or I did, and the curse isn¡¯t as bad as you make it out to be," I commented, playing devil¡¯s advocate.


    "It¡¯s still present," Kyrian refuted. "I can feel it lingering."


    While he moved on to stitching the wound, I tried to not be too stung by Kyrian¡¯s amazement that I had done all that I had to get him away from the faeries. Any decent person would have done the same if they had been in the same predicament. The fact that Kyrian hadn¡¯t believed that I would live up to that standard irked me. Yet, I was not in a combative mindset and chose to not argue over his perception of me. He still saw me as the girl who had escaped her justified punishment.


    "Why didn''t you kill that man today? You could have. He came at you with a gun. If anything, his death would have been more reasonable than the others who died today. You kind of flooded Venice, destroying the city, and many people drowned." The wound was small enough that Kyrian made quick work of it, and it wasn''t long before he was severing the extra thread.


    My breath hitched in my throat. I bit my bottom lip to contain the sob. "Even if I had the means, I wouldn''t. He didn''t deserve to die. He was just protecting his city," I forced out. I sucked in a deep breath. "Why were you there? In Venice." Kyrian''s touch was delicate as he cleaned up the blood around the wound.


    "I was looking for you, actually."


    My eyebrows shot up. "Me?"


    "I have a couple of questions." After the area had dried, Kyrian rubbed a cream on it. It looked like the same one he had put on my calf after the jail extraction and demon fight. I relaxed a little more. The demon''s claw hadn''t even left a scar on my calf thanks to the seraph cream.


    "Huh?"


    "The first one being, how did you learn how to improvise like that? You did quite well playing off me with Tatiana until she turned her illusions onto us.¡± The comforting pressure of Kyrian''s hand disappeared from my chest as he went to clean up the medical clutter. His words were projected with a monotone slur to conceal that he had been impressed by my performance.


    I pushed myself up into a sitting position. "I was trained" was all I said. I refused to tell him anything about my childhood.


    "That was almost expert level," Kyrian commented. It sounded like he had stood up. "Quite extraordinary for a girl who grew up in Nashville and was going to school to become a doctor."


    "What are you getting at?" I asked. My arms crossed over my chest. Kyrian deposited the medical supplies on the table. I watched as the folded blanket was torn off the couch before flying towards me, propelled by Kyrian''s grip. Kyrian threw the blanket around my shoulders. I pulled its softness closer once it was fully draped.


    "I was just curious, that''s all. It may become necessary when we go and retrieve the vampires'' instrument. You may have to go undercover, and I needed to know if you could handle it."


    "Now?"


    "In a couple of days. Let''s give the bullet wound time to heal."


    I stared down at the ground. "I would have thought you would be reprimanding me by now," I observed. He had yet to preach about how I was the worse monster to have ever roamed the earth. "Where''s the seraph judgment and moral superiority?" I croaked.


    "I think you''re already killing yourself over the issue, so it''s unnecessary," he commented. "I''ll be by when the operation is ready."


    He left me alone, sitting on the floor in my room with the blanket over my shoulders.