Emeth

The Hourglass Order

That's Amore

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It was Ardanes, now: well into Rezain. The days were a little bit shorter and the nights a little bit cooler. In truth, it was a welcome reprieve from Dorrad's searing heat. They sat on the balcony of a handsome townhome in Cantativa, away from the hustle of Civitalunga or Avincia, with one platter of bruschetta and another of fritto misto. There was a bottle of red wine on the table and a great full Ciero in the sky.

Ciro Volta sat across from the woman he would marry, trying to eat like a gentleman. He had business to discuss, but food was to be enjoyed first. There was no need to sour the taste of it. "I could tell you something like, 'that's my mother's recipe'," he chuckled, "but I think neither of us would be afraid of the truth. It comes from the kitchen of a poor woman in Farrodiné who was well compensated and is a bit less poor now." He smiled appreciatively as he chewed.

Xiuyang sat across from her lover, clothed in her finest silks. The first time they'd spoken, she had worn a mask. Then, she'd borrowed her sister's face, and thought he wouldn't notice. Then, she'd decided to learn how to apply makeup, almost from scratch. Now, there were just a few precise and gentle touches. Slowly, over time, her face had become more visible, her smile easier and more confident, more genuine.

It had also made her face easier to read. A smile could mean many things, and her smiles were becoming easier to tell apart—a product of their time spent together as much as it was the girl's heart mending. The smile Ciro saw now was a happy and contented one. She was admiring him as much as she was admiring the food. It was no secret that she loved his generosity and good taste.

"My compliments to our chef. I'll savor this moment to her success. It looks delightful." She had her chopsticks ready—was it poor manners to eat Revidian food with chopsticks? Surely Ciro wouldn't mind. She seemed to be in a similar conundrum to her beloved: how to eat this bruschetta like a proper lady. The chef may have been poor, but the ingredients were quality and not used sparingly. Her attempt at a ladylike nibble ended with a small dab of tomato sauce on her nose, to which she snickered before wiping it off and taking a more adventurous second bite. All was well. She would enjoy the food for several minutes before the wine would even cross her mind. She hardly drank these days.

Ciro tried to bend the bruschetta slightly, to make it concave. He'd have ended up feeding the table and his lap had he not caught the pieces with kinetic magic. He made a makeshift heart shape out of them in the air. "Did you realize there would be this much cheese when you sat down tonight?" he asked.

Xiuyang rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Big Cheese," she replied, responding to one double-meaning phrase with another.

"And this is why I love you," Ciro remarked, holding out the bottle of wine and arching an eyebrow questioningly. He shook his head as he poured. "Many other reasons, too, of course." Two full moons loomed large in the sky. The waters of the Green Canal shimmered under their light. "But you are the partner I need: the one who I don't have to act seriously around, the one I don't need to explain my jokes to."

His face turned pensive, then, and perhaps a bit troubled. "I know the nature of my family, and some of that of yours." He regarded the deep red liquid in his glass before his eyes snapped upwards, finding hers. "Promise me that we will never let them use us or turn us against each other." He fairly bled anxiety into the night.

Xiuyang nodded at the offer of wine, taking up her glass and holding it out for Ciro to fill. A light blush formed on her cheeks, another perk of the lighter use of makeup. The feeling of ease and safety was mutual. She was glad to hear of it.

The night moved forward as smoothly as the boats in the canal, but something was about to rock their boat. Dark clouds were brewing, and Xiuyang moved to shoo them away with all the authority of a Zeno welcoming a new year of students to the school. Nothing and no one would intrude on this moment.

"Never," she agreed, soberly and with a kind of held-back intensity. "I swear it. ...It's not my sister, is it?" she suggested preemptively. Desi's husband had chosen her over Maria or Xiuyang, and Maria's jealousy would flare up from time to time. Her charms had not worked on him, and they'd likely not worked on Ciro either, but she had to be sure.

Ciro shrugged almost... evasively, and glanced out over the canals. "Well, I get a bad read from her: bitterness." He shook his head. "Grasping." He pursed his lips. "A desire to move up." He tapped the table with a finger. "My uncle was the same way, and it cost me my father. Oldest tale in the world."

The food was all-but finished. He'd timed it that way. Telling her more about himself would build trust with Xiuyang, and that was something that he needed. In truth, the family's mercantile ventures were not as profitable as they had once been. Trade was moving, increasingly, to the oceans instead of the Ensollian and Revidia hadn't a ghost of a route there. Banking was the future. The Solaris could keep the ships.

And yet... he found that he did not see them as enemies. He did not want to ruin them, not in any way, unless they acted first. There was no such thing as a wealthy merchant in Revidia who had not stabbed backs or cut throats, figuratively and, in an indirect sense, literally. Ciro was just shy of his eighteenth birthday and still not fully in control of the Volta Company, but he had ruined people. He'd had men killed. He'd been utterly ruthless. "Amore mio," he said softly, as a sonic bubble took shape around the pair, "he didn't work alone. There is another who must pay Ecceran's price." He glanced down at the blood red wine in his glass and then back up at Xiuyang, mysteriously, searchingly, darkly.

Xiuyang was about to crack a joke about how Ciro had just described most noblewomen when he'd suddenly dropped the bombshell. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine..." The words felt hollow in her mouth as she gazed into her wine. In many horrible nightmares, she had seen Juulet come for her family. She had seen the church come for her family, led by any one of the students who knew that she was a Facemimic and claimed to be her friend. But, to be betrayed by her own blood? It was unthinkable. Even Maria, for all her bluster, would never dare to pull the trigger, because—

Xiuyang felt the familiar presence of a sonic bubble as Ciro addressed her so fondly, so softly. She wanted nothing more than to move to his side, but the weight of his words kept her in her seat, engaged in the careful dance of discussing matters of great import while appearing to have only a casual conversation. The conflict played out on her face as her eyes grew in their intensity and her appetite for wine along with them.

After a longer drink, she placed her wine glass down, but not for a refill. She tented her fingers. "We Solari have an understanding with one another. We wear many faces, and we each have our own hopes and dreams, but we are all one 'Solari.' He who makes an enemy of one, makes an enemy of all." Her eyes flicked to meet Ciro's, shimmering like the reflection of the moons in the canal below. "Who broke your heart, amore mio?"

Ciro listened and he wasn't certain, to be truthful, though he did not entirely let this show. "We Volta are, in theory, much the same... or at least, we were."

He drank no more, for he was master of himself. "It is l'Anguilla himself, though he is not aware that I know, so far as I can tell." He picked at his last bit of food idly - poor manners, to be certain, but he could relax that way in front of Xiuyang. "And now he comes to me," the merchant prince continued, "with a task that I know is a trap, but which I cannot completely refuse, lest I lay bare my suspicions and allow him to wonder if I know still more." He twisted to reach into his satchel, left beside his chair under the moonlight, but he paused. "I will admit, it is an intriguing thing, and I welcome your insight on it."

Xiuyang's face blanched. Her blood turned cold. "...The Doge himself..?" She looked upon Ciro with eyes that didn't want to believe what her ears were hearing. "How could this happen..? Should we..?" Her voice trailed off as she at once considered and dismissed every option that came to mind. Tell her father? No. He had told her quite young never to tangle with the Eel, but when asked by innocent young eyes if the Doge was a "bad man," he had replied only that people were more complicated than simply being good or bad.

Should they flee Revidia? No. The keys to the future they were building together were here, and the future of all Constantia stood to gain from their success. There was too much on the line to let one man stand in the way, even if that man was the Doge himself.

Kill the Doge? It seemed the height of madness. The kind of chaos that would result... but Ciro knew this. He knew, and setting aside whether or not they should, the fact of the matter was that Xiuyang could not, even if she tried. He was not asking her to commit treason, any more than Seviin had been suggesting that she kill Juulet. Ciro was simply stating facts, for the time being, and she trusted his judgment.

She did not cast judgment on him for killing his uncle, for the penalty of betraying one's own blood could only be death. So it was for the Solari, and so she imagined it must be so for the Volta.

"What is the nature of this task? This trap of his?" she asked, holding back the true heat of her emotions, but not the presence of them. "If he plots ill against you, I will bring those plans to ruin. Every fiber of my being, every tool at my disposal. I'll hold nothing back. Please, let me help you," she pleaded, reaching across the table for his hand. She knew that Ciro had been bearing his burdens alone while she had been making him to share hers. It was unfair, and she was making an effort to change it, but he had to let her in first.

Ciro lifted his glass of wine to his lips and drank. One could not see the lower half of his face. After a moment, however, he placed it back on the table, settled, and took Xiuyang's hand. He breathed deeply, twisting to pull a sealed envelope from his bag, though the seal was broken. "It says little," he remarked, extricating a folded letter from it, "though I know more, and he knows more than me, still. He held it out for her to see and opened it, letting her read and wonder before any commentary.

Dear Honourable Prospect,

Has your life taken a turn? Do you seek thrills you have long since desensitized yourself to? Or perhaps you wish to start anew?

Whatever your creed may be, one of Sipenta's mythical and lost marvels beckons the ambitious, curious and desperate alike. Deep in the frigid tundras lies the oldest gem of this world.

An expedition like none other in history to unearth a legend that can make dreams into tangible reality. A chance for a legacy. A chance for a new beginning. A new era.

The Abyssal Forge awaits you.
Signature: __x

Please send this letter through your local post office.

Xiuyang took the letter and inspected it. Anxiety gave way to confusion, which was always conveyed through her most amusing faces. "He... wants you to sign a letter and put it in the post," she assessed, deadpan, with a tone that suggested an anti-climax. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can something this shady-looking really be an important task from the Doge? This looks like bait for the desperate. Is he insulting you?" she asked, irritation evident on the curl of her lips. "A chance for a legacy, a new beginning." There was a time such words would have tempted her to action, but now, she saw them in a new light: manipulative.

But slowly, the clever girl's cogs began to turn, and after a moment, she gave her true assessment. "No, I get it. He wants to send you on some fool's errand so you'll be out of his hair. It means he is about to make a move you disapprove of, right?"

It wasn't quite right, but it wasn't quite wrong, either.

"But we have tricks he doesn't know about." When her eyes met Ciro's again, it was his own eyes that he saw looking back at him from within Xiuyang's face. It was only for a moment, but it was a little uncanny. "As I said, we are all one 'Solari.' If he requires 'you' to go away for a while, I can become 'you.' Someday, you might be able to become 'me' as well. Until then... while they aren't exactly pocket sized, they are 'portable.' The mirrors, Ciro. Being in two places at once isn't a dream for you, it's a reality!" Her hushed whispers got a little excited.

"I think he wants to have his cake and eat it, too," Ciro offered, leaning in conspiratorially and mouthing a small kiss. "At least, that's my impression." He smirked and leaned back again, sipping the last bit of his wine.

"There is something to the Abyssal Forge beyond the ability to create things: something strategic for him both personally and in the interest of Revidia." He pursed his lips. "I have done some digging and I think that the Tarlonese are connected to this. Minister Padovan's office has been unusually busy, but not Materazzi's or Barone's. Tartarelli has been salivating over the coming war for months, now, and Zappa is inscrutable as always. I think there is an effort to pull them over to our side, perhaps as counter to what the Torragonese have been up to lately with Virang."

He shrugged. "My take is that they need something there and can't get it, or need backup, and we stand to gain. If matters go well, then it is a clandestine operation but, if they go south, l'Anguilla will have cause to disavow whoever was involved." He sniffed. "It's me he's out for. We've been playing this shadow game for some time." Ciro examined the letter idly. "I could not live with myself if you stepped in and something happened."

"But then, what will you do? It's the same for me, you know. I can't imagine a future without you in it. ...No pressure." She squeezed his hand lightly, giving him a warm smile. Then, she narrowed her eyes in thought. "So, you're saying this isn't just some wild goose chase, but a real lead. You're also saying it might be dangerous, but here you are, asking for my opinion on our best course of action. If you had someone more capable than me that you could ask, I think you would have—and if I had someone like that, you'd have skipped the middle man. ...Well, it's me, so maybe you wouldn't." She weaved her fingers with Ciro's, playing with them a little.

"I trust you, Ciro, and I trust your judgment. I'd be in a lot of trouble if I didn't, since I'm something of an advisor of yours," she japed. "If you would rather I not go, then let me know how I can help, and what needs to be done while you're gone—but, I am willing to go on a little adventure. Considering everything that's happened, with the doppelganger of me that appeared in Qari'muuna and attacked Ingrid, and the incident in Palapar... maybe it'd be good for me to escape the public eye for a while, again, rather than become a distraction from the good you're trying to do." She sighed, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on the thought like she would've done before.

"Like I said, you can sign it and send me. I won't get cold feet. Or if you think it's too risky, or if there's some benefit to having the Doge know you sent me, I'll sign my name and go as myself. Do we know if anyone else will be there? Anyone we trust?" she asked curiously.

Ciro listened as she spoke, his attention - for all intents and purposes - undivided. "I believe we should test him, just slightly," he concluded. "If you would like to lose some heat, you should at least go as yourself." He tapped the tabletop rhythmically, pondering. "Change one element he anticipated and thought he would control." His eyes flicked from his tapping finger to Xiuyang. "See how he reacts."

Regardless of his discomfort, he flicked her the letter, eyes large and deep and settled upon her. "I love you, Salomé Solari." In the background, the crickets chirped and a fresh breeze blew up the hill from the ocean. "I will have someone ready - someone useful - to switch with you if you are in danger."

Xiuyang nodded in understanding. Ciro knew the Doge, and this was his move to play. With Xiuyang signing her name, she could be satisfied that they were keeping another of their cards hidden, as well. She had reached for her quill and was just about to sign the letter when Ciro reaffirmed his love for her. Her hand hesitated for what could've only been a fraction of a second before the deed was done.

The delivery was so serious, it could have been a final farewell, and if it were anyone else, she would have had second thoughts—but, she'd made a habit of putting her faith in this man, and watching as things worked out for the better. Now, while she was doing it again, he was also doing the same with her, and the weight of the moment was not lost on Xiuyang. She smiled warmly as he reassured her that she would have an out if things went south.

"And I love you, Ciro Volta. More than you could ever know."

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"When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie... that's amore~♪"

"When the world seems to shine, like you've had too much wine... that's amore~♪"

Xiuyang sang softly to herself as she walked the dirt roads of some small town in Miatto, appearing to have no particular destination in mind. She had memorized the map several days ago, after all, and walked this road several times before. She had observed the shed in question and peered inside with the Gift, as she would do this time.

There was a sudden chill, and the inexplicable but all-too-familiar sensation of being watched. Was there a rustling of more than just the wind?

"When it's all on the line, but you're still feelin' fine~♪" she improvised, drawing a pistol, a smile forming as she brought the muzzle to her lips, like a finger shushing a partner in crime who was absent.

"What's that?" she spoke, rather than sang the line, as one would do to build drama in a musical.

She ducked around a corner, peering into an alley, her gun pointed at a barrel. A rat scurried. A homeless man coughed.

"Don't you see? Why couldn't it be?" she said as she looked around, to quell her nerves.

All was still in the night. Xiuyang tapped the barrel of her gun against her chin contemplatively, as though it were her finger, resting just outside the trigger guard.

"Yup! That's amore~♥" She smiled brightly.

She would continue on until she reached the rendezvous point, at which point the weight of the risk she was taking would hit her stomach like a ton of bricks. You promised you wouldn't get cold feet, she softly scolded herself. If your word means nothing even when given to Ciro, then... The rest didn't need to be said.

She bumped the door of the shed open with her shoulder. The first two times she had opened it, it creaked horribly. Last time she was here, she had ensured it would not do so again. She relied on her beanie to show her the truth, looking for any dark figures lying in wait. She saw nothing, however. Instead, she saw the static before she began to feel it crawl on her body. She tried to draw, but instead felt her knees grow weak as she lost her balance. It was in her mind, now, obscuring her vision along with the fog creeping inside the shed. It drowned out the all-consuming cacophony of the frogs nearby.

What... is this?! Is this magic? Is it an episode? I can't see... myself. Can't hear... Can't ...think...

"Ciro..." she mumbled as her eyes glazed over. "a... mo... r- re..." Her outstretched hand gave up its final twitch.

The Hourglass Order

Another "Raffaella"

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Mission accomplished, Zarina’s friend was thwarted and the Imam was alive. A depressing celebration of cheap red wine in one of the commandeered Virangish homes was her go-to for an evening of unwinding. Or maybe this was merely a ritual to prepare for the chat with Raffaella. Regardless of intent, two glasses of wine were prepared with the tall teen sagging into her wooden seat and her eyes focused on a small stack of papers. Copies of reports, it seemed, from the official stamps.

“Hey.” she greeted her fellow compatriot with mellowed, half-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. “How’s the duty been for you so far?” she inquired, the mundane nature of the question veiling the increased concern she had for a colleague she had once seen as the little sister of the team.

"...Evening, Zazz," came the reply, lacking the verbosity and grace of her earlier performance. The high pitch wasn't there, either, but it was a bit different from her usual pouting, too. The only explanation seemed to be that something didn't go well, and Zarina wouldn't have to wait long to find out what.

Raffie placed her hands on the armrests and hopped up into her chair. She eyed the wine, seeming to consider it. She was an "adult" now, whatever that was supposed to mean, so no one could hold it against her if she indulged a little, right? She took the glass by the stem and rocked it back and forth, ponderously.

"...Osman was right, Zazzy. That's just the plain truth of it," she sighed.

Indulged in a sip of her vintage as she crossed her arms under her chest and assessed the girl-turned-woman from neck to shoe. Her gestures were precise, the fruit of experience with her betters - very Afravalesque, she called it. It became very clear to Zarina that she wasn't talking to a child anymore. “He has said many things.” but only a couple could lead to such gloom. The older of the two swallowed her worries with another gulp of her drink. “What's been troubling you?”

At that, Raffie made her signature pouting face. Well, perhaps it was annoyance with Zarina playing coy, or perhaps she was trying to lighten the mood just a little. She certainly seemed to have the self-awareness to know that it looked a little silly, but that also meant she knew how to use it to lower someone's guard. "What do you think?" she sulked.

The temptation of the wine seemed to get the better of her, but she partook of it slowly and with class. "I've had another dream, Zazzy. Our plan isn't working. Or well, it's not going to work. If we don't change course—and I mean, like, 'hard to port!' changed then we're going to lose Palapar."

Zarina inhaled deeply and raised her chin in acknowledgement of the question and opted to indulge in her vintage before confessing something. Calm and collected, mellowed by the drink no doubt. “Our King spoke to me and Ren. I'm unsure if you've been made aware of the subject matter.”

This demeanor of her's did not survive Raffaella's second addition to the conversation. A look of concern reigned on Zarinas expression, the same one she had back at the royal garden. “A dream.” she repeated. “What dream?” she was already mentally berating herself for entertaining the delusions that had made her friend almost unrecognizable.

She wasn't done. To avoid falling in the trap of indulging too much in notions beyond herself, she presented her own concern. “What do you make of Ren?”

Raffaella considered. She sipped her wine. She considered some more, regarding Zarina with eyes that could have been wary, tired, or both. What should she say—that an international web of corrupt politicians and career criminals were plotting the downfall of Virang? No. She needed to start smaller if she wanted to gain her friend's trust back. She exhaled deeply.

"Ambitious to a fault. Not a shred of virtue. 'Might makes right.' Useful in a pinch," she diagnosed rather brutally. "I thought we could use him to break the rebels' will to go on fighting and cut the bloodshed short. It's not going to work. More massacres will happen, sparking more outrage. Soon, they'll have better weapons and become even bolder."

Zarina sighed in relief. Common ground, at least there was something to work with other than "dreams". “Your opinion is that he isn't the right tool for the job, then.” a crude summary to get to her point. “I agree. And was far too keen on following our leader's plan. Not a shred of a second thought.” stressful memories induced a desire for safety - routine. She filled her glass once more and non-verbally offered to do the same for Raffie.

“I'm not sure what to do about all of this, but it seems you've more insight than me on some things here.” an expectant look was shot Raffaella's way after a hearty gulp of the drink. Far less chic than her younger colleague. “Tell me what's been running in your mind.”

"Imam Tikli doesn't deserve to die," she observed plainly. So, it would seem she had been privately briefed on that. "He remains a faithful and active steward. He is not tired because he is old, he is tired because he believes politics interfere with his work. So, some powerful people have decided he has outlived his usefulness, I suppose, but that is for the gods to decide."

She took another sip of her wine. "I can tell you my honest opinion, because you know I'm not strong enough to stand in the way of whatever you want to do, right? So if you really want the truth, yes, I had a dream about outside forces interfering in Palapar. But the 'wise and experienced' care nothing for divine inspiration when it contradicts the set of preexisting notions they call an 'education,' so someone with actual muscle on the field needs to go prove it if we want a change of plans. I've nothing against the Sultan, but even I was hesitant to admit that he was right. Others will need more convincing."

Zarina took a deep breath. A relief, but also an exasperation. “He doesn't deserve to die, but some believe he should. If you know what I do, then do you think his death would be a boon to our cause?” she didn't drink this time, she needed to focus. Focus on every gesture made by this person she hardly knew, in truth.

“Dream or not,” she did end up drinking again, but only to mimic her counterpart without even thinking of the drink. “our good friend Tku has proven that. The question is: What do you propose? Do we go with the Sultan's plan? Do we even want to?” question after question, as if she never even knew this person from the start. Then again, this Raffaella was not the Raffie she had shared victories and hardships with.

"Well... To begin with, Osman really doesn't want him to die in his heart of hearts, does he? It was just a pretense for the next stage of the plan, I thought. So, if it's not going to work anyway... nothing good can come of it, I think." She certainly appeared to be genuinely considering Zarina's query, if only to be respectful of her perspective, though her own was biased. Still, that childlike expression was an infuriating poker face, too.

"I don't know. I really don't know. All I can do is continue to fulfil the role I've been given. I do have my security detail. If I stay close to the Imam, that can buy us some time. I could try talking Ren down, but honestly, I think he's just using me. He doesn't believe in my dreams, either."

She gave Zarina a meaningful look as she said that last word. "If you want to go through with this, Zazzy, I won't use my dreams as an excuse not to give it my all. But, I've given you my honest belief. I think we will lose Palapar. All we can do is minimize our losses. Or... we could strategize our losses." Her eyes flicked away towards her wine, evasively.

This wasn't an easy position to be in. Zarina's only real ally happened to be a girl who determined her decisions and outcomes of events through dreams. The world had never felt lonelier for the young dragon. “I will not act with the notion of inevitable loss, Raffie.” she stated firmly, her attention removed from the glass of wine that tempted her more and more to zone out everything in this very moment. “We'll get ahead of whatever machinations are at play. We may take losses, but I will fight for Palapar. We need everything we have to survive the coming storm, as a country.”

The oldest of the two ran her fingers through her hair to tight them into an improvised bun. She had grown tired of it getting in the way of her eyes. It made her look more exhausted - no, more defeated than she really was. “I'm glad you haven't fallen for the madness the brass has fallen into - that this is over because they've caught a few rebels.” she forced a smile, one that radiated something that was genuine. Was it entirely? Likely not, but there was a serenity gained from at least being heard. “It's nice to have a friend.”

Zarina cleared her throat and continued. “There's a good chance the ball is something they'll gun for. And likely not with improvised tactics. If what we believe is true, we may be seeing an attack backed by our enemies targeting the pillars of leadership. I'd like to stop that, but I cannot do this alone. And I sense I'm not going to have many fans when I fearmonger.”

Raffaella took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay, Zazzy. Okay." She nodded sadly, appearing every bit the young girl in need of guidance that Zarina had remembered from the Trials. If there was a positive interpretation to be made of the girl's delusion, perhaps she had a reliable gut feeling that something was wrong, and the dreams were just a coping mechanism to give herself more confidence.

"I'll support you, Zazzy, because you're my friend. A real friend. Your eyes tell me so." She nodded to herself and smiled. "I'll go to the ball. Let me take the heat for being scared. You can be the brave heroine who investigates a young lady's unfounded fears and figures it all out in the end."

It was an herculean task to not see the person before Zarina as the same child she had looked after during the trials. The mannerisms were there, but the intent behind her words had actual weight. It was uncanny, like something else was piloting this individual. Still, Zazzy was neither clever enough nor callous enough to doubt it was more than eccentricities and the natural result of 'growing up'. “I appreciate your support. It means ... A lot. Especially when I know I won't be miss popular for much longer when this is all over.” big exhale, like Raffie's. “However, are you sure your place should be in the ball? If our fears are accurate, it will be a mess. A dangerous one.”

Zarina scoot closed, dragging her chair in a clumsy and almost infantile manner to close the gap between herself and Raffaella. An empathetic if a tad awkward hand reached out to touch the other's shoulder. “The last thing I want is one of my only friends on this island to get hurt. Do you reckon the Imam may be in danger as well?”

Any time Zarina touched Raffie, it was striking just how small she was. The fluff and frills almost seemed to take up more space than she did. "...Yes. But he... I, um..." She seemed to consider her words. "He is prepared to die. He accepts it. I don't want it, but... so long as I draw breath, I minister to the living, not the dead. If you need me there, I'll go. I don't want the Imam to die, but if protecting him only slows you down and delays the inevitable... am I wrong? If this is the path you've chosen, I'll sincerely do my best. You'll be there, right? So I won't be scared, then. ...No pressure. I mean, I'll be 'scared,' for our purposes, but not really."

Raffaella coaxed a smile from Zarina that grew in size the more she talked. There was familiarity, now that all the prose and metaphors were done with. Was this truly Raffie? She would not know, but it worked in softening the silver dragon. “How about you choose where you'll do best?” emotion trumped over strategy and reason, one of Zarina's many flaws. Like an orange cat far too easily brought to showing its underbelly. “I'll be at the ball. I must be. It's where our vital decision makers will be. If you feel better suited to be with me there, so be it. If you think your actions can make a difference toward the Imam's situation, then you have my blessing.”

A deep inhale, and then an exhale. Careful breathing seemed to be a theme here. Zarina spoke again. “I would rather not sacrifice a good man for our victory, no matter how slim or impossible it might be. If your intuition is true, his death would be meaningless anyway.”

Raffie shook her head sadly. "I can only get in the way of those who would do him harm. I cannot change their minds." Her eyes widened, as if she'd only just thought of something. "They may just as quickly come after me. That he is in less danger with me there might just be a tempting fantasy, beckoning me away from what I need to do. Your resolve is real. I trust it more."

She reached up and took Zarina's hand. "But if I must confess, we don't seem to be communicating very well here. We seem to be talking in circles, and I can't make sense of it. Truly we must protect our 'decision makers' if we can't decide something like this on our own. Unless there's something troubling you that you're not telling me about, and that's the real reason why you don't want me at the ball." She peered up at Zarina curiously. The demeanor changed, but the same cogs were turning. Perhaps Raffie really was a child at heart, and the students of Ersand'Enise, far away from the stuffy politics of Virang, had been privileged to see it. The mistake they had made was in taking her for a fool. "Why won't you be 'miss popular' anymore?"

Zarina squeezed the much smaller hand. Her lips pursed like she was holding something back. She addressed the last question first. “Our friends are watching all of this very closely. My efforts to win this will not only earn some the scorn of those with lofty ideals, but also our very chain of command is about to hear it from me. This conflict is drawing a hard line in the sand and I fear I'll be standing opposite to many of those I hold dear. It hurts, you know?” she let out a long nasal sigh before seizing the entire bottle with her idle hand and crudely drank from it.

“Which is why, as I step in a world where my circle of friends may dwindle, I could not take losing more of them.” the squeeze strengthened even more, not quite enough to be uncomfortable. “If our enemies go in hard during that ball, I won't be able to keep our priorities safe if they were to put YOU in danger too. My own priorities will be predictably in your favor.”

Raffie's eyes drifted from Zarina's face to the bottle in her hands. "I see. So I'd be in the way. That stings a little. But, I do get it. I'm not strong like you are, Zazz. But, can't you share this burden with me even a little? I'm already not very popular. I don't have any friends besides you and Ayla."

Raffaella was right, Zarina saw a weaker addition as a liability. But this was a concern born of only emotion, in truth she would need the numbers. “I remember how easily scared you were during that last trial. When Desmond met countless dreadful fates. Ipte forsake him that day.” she let out a half-hearted chuckle. Those weren't the best memories, even if they were good times. “I guess I still see you as the junior of the team.” she went to take another sip but abstained just as her lips were about to meet the bottle. “We made a pretty good team, didn't we?” she flashed a complicit grin. “Okay. Think you you can have my back?”

Raffie pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. "Oh, yeah! Des'm was nice to me too, but I haven't seen him in a while," she mused. "Of course we made a good team. We were the best team. Like, objectively. It was a whole thing," she said, as if declining to tell a long story to someone who wasn't there. Then she, also, smiled complicitly.

She used her free hand to fish for her enchanted rosary. A sound like a static discharge sounded off as she grabbed it, and a strange warmth flowed through Raffie's hand and into Zarina's. "Of course I'll have your back, Zazzy, if you'll have me."

Good feelings all around, and Zarina was only tipsy too. Inebriated just enough to miss that unusual sound but aware enough to feel the warmth. Her features mellowed and the bottle was put back on the table - enough for one night. “Then it's settled, we're jumping into hell, hand-in-hand.”

Zarina leaned back and sagged into her seat. “We're going to win. We were supposed to fail our revolution, but we won. We'll win this too.” her eyes had drifted away to nothing in particular, like she wasn't talking to anyone specific. “There're spare bedrooms in here. I'd lie if I said a familiar presence wouldn't leave me less paranoid at night.”

"I hope so, Zazzy." Even Raffie couldn't help but feel a little encouraged by Zarina's bold statement about the revolution, something which seemed so distant now. It certainly wasn't impossible that the outcome of a prophetic dream could be changed, but the more people were affected by it, the greater the change of course needed to avert it. Her mother's diary spoke of such possibilities. Would warning Zarina really change much, though?

It didn't change her endgame, she decided. She didn't need to be strong enough to change the outcome, she just needed to be right. If they succeeded, it needed to be because Zarina had believed in her dream warning them in advance. If they failed, she just needed to survive and minimize Virang's losses, and ensure that the losses served her and her allies rather than the enemy within.

Losing Zarina wasn't something she could afford. At least, that was what she believed. Was it based in emotion, or tactics? She'd made an agreement with herself to set the thought aside for now. Zarina didn't believe in her dreams, but at least she wouldn't stand in the way of her dreams, nor did she gaze upon her with eyes of scorn like so many others.

"How could I say no to that face?" Raffie said, mirroring something Zarina had also probably said to her before. "You know, I think I've also spooked myself a little with all this talk of assassins. The idea of sleeping alone really isn't appealing to me, either."

Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic (Cops and Robbers)

@Emeth Tossing you a random ping because I realized you're still alive and this might be your vibe. NP if it ain't.

@ERode

Hey dude! Long time no see.

It totally is, but I've got a recurring problem of stretching myself too thin and burning out. I can't commit right now.

The Hourglass Order

An Imperfect Compass Called the Heart

---

---

Xiuyang approached the antique shop with tepid steps. In truth, she didn't expect anything to come of this lead, but the importance of her mission compelled her to search every possibility thoroughly. She entered quietly, walking aimlessly and with directionless eyes, perusing the store. Rather than locating an object of interest, her intention was to speak to the owner. It didn't take long for her fellow Rettanese to take the bait.

"Ahh, young Miss Solari. I'm pleased to see you take an interest in my humble shop." His beard moved, indicating a smile.

"Good day to you. Do you have this brand?" She showed the man a drawing of the old diary. "It seems to have received a resurgence of popularity lately. Any idea why that might be?" she asked.

"Mm." The old man furrowed his brow. "So I've noticed. I do have one of those, yes. It shows its age wonderfully, but its pages are yet blank. That commands a high price... but somehow, I wager the answer to your question is of more value to you."

Xiuyang hadn't even feigned a smile, but if she had, it would be gone. She narrowed her eyes. Her Torragonese contact had told her to expect the man to be cagey like this. "...How much?" she asked wearily.

"Give me a good price for it, and I'll tell you what I know," the shrewd businessman replied, refusing to give a figure.

Xiuyang's eye twitched. In a situation this dire, her cold Solari blood would dictate a stubborn old goat like this be kidnapped and interrogated in some dank basement, but under the watchful eyes of the Zenos? Impossible. Like an automaton, she lifted up her sack of coin and dropped it wholesale on the counter.

Rather than count the coins, the owner admired each one individually. "Hoho. These are quite old indeed. So much history." He pocketed them with care. "A young couple walked in here some time ago, looking to acquire this old diary." He took it out from behind the counter with gloved hands. "The girl seemed keen on stealing it, but wasn't too clever about it. Of course I was furious, but somehow, I felt compelled to listen to her story. She told me that her mother who had passed away recently had a diary like this one which had gone missing. Now, I don't give much heed to tall tales spun by thieves, but she seemed genuinely distraught."

"What else can you tell me about her? What did she look like?" Xiuyang replied.

"Her face was white as the driven snow and strikingly doll-like. In fact, she was nearly small enough to be one of those life-sized dolls. Her hair and eyes had an otherworldly sheen, dyed pink with arcane magicks."

Raffaella, Xiuyang realized immediately. Her mother did indeed die recently. Suddenly, she remembered the notice put out for the missing diary. Just as suddenly, she remembered that the description of the diary was identical to her missing ledger. Red hair... Xiuyang had enough self-respect to not gaze beyond the veil a fellow insecure girl had put up over her face—but, making red hair appear pink was easy enough. In fact, Xiuyang figured her whole look could be achieved with a very simple bloom effect.

But, there was a problem with pinning Raffaella as her suspect.

The girl's RAS was simply too low to match the hair she'd found.

"And the boy?" Xiuyang prodded.

"A tall fellow, likely Eskandish. Brown hair, blue eyes. He seemed sincerely unaware of the girl's thieving."

That sounds like Niallus. Yeah, he wouldn't suspect a girl like Raffaella at all. Were they an item, though? If the old man saw them as a couple, she was probably manipulating him. "So, you must have told them the book was empty, and I suppose they moved on. Where did they go after that?" She continued her interrogation.

"That's the bigger mystery, isn't it? The girl was checking her compass inside the shop, but neither of them seemed to be prepared to travel anywhere."

That was it. Raffaella was using Niallus for his compass. The compass... It could have led her to my warehouse and showed her the secret place. That explains how someone found and accessed it without being aware of the trap I'd placed in advance. It all makes sense, but... Raffaella is just too weak to match that hair. Unless she was holding back in the Trials?

But why would Raffaella hold back in the Trials? It didn't make any sense. She took her losses poorly. Everyone who saw her knew she'd cried. Xiuyang remembered it clearly. She'd cried about how no one was going to feed her if she didn't win. There were whispers that she was being abused, but it was all swept under the rug quite cleanly, somehow. Even she had forgotten until just now. Her RAS was certainly too low to be a match, but she did have both the talent to remain hidden from the eyes of her guards, as well as a motive. The girl's ethnic background was also a bit of a question mark. Was she really from Constantia?

It also didn't explain the missing bayonet. Would Raffaella really steal such a macabre-looking thing? Was there a second intruder, or a co-conspirator? Xiuyang had more questions than answers, so she dismissed them for now. She had another lead. Though it wasn't a perfect theory, it was likely that Raffaella had stolen Paydirt, thinking it was her mother's diary. The ink was invisible, so it wasn't as if the compass had any defining features to distinguish between these old books. She might not have realized her mistake until after returning home—if indeed she ever did.

But if she did? There was a possibility, however small, that a girl that hated Xiuyang knew she had dirt on her family.

If I can find the real diary, then I may have a bargaining chip. We can agree to a truce and exchange them. It's a long shot, but what else can I do? If there was even the smallest chance this was an honest mistake—she thought her dead mother's diary was stolen—I don't want to hurt her. "Thank you," she offered the old man as she turned to leave. She would have to pursue this lead fast.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Xiuyang turned, irritated. The man was holding the old diary out to her.

"I may be a greedy old goat, but even I have my pride as a merchant. This is yours."

She hadn't intended to buy it, but she decided that a dummy might be useful someday. So, she took it with her.

---

The following few days passed in a flash. Raffaella's mother's belongings had been sold at auction, so Xiuyang had her agents track down the seller's name. With Ciro's banking contacts, she was able to retrieve the records of who purchased what. She did not tell him why she was interested in the diary beyond the fact that traveling was a passion of hers, and a fellow traveler's autobiography would be a gold mine of interesting stories. She couldn't tell him that her family's reputation may be in jeopardy. She couldn't bear to find out if it would put their entire relationship at risk.

There was a problem, however: the diary was not itemized anywhere. It wasn't hidden in the old house Raffaella and her mother had been staying in, as she'd checked it immediately, since Raffaella had conveniently returned to Virang. This search would require some out of the box thinking. If the diary's hiding place wasn't in the building, then it must have left the building. Furniture. Who bought the woman's reading desk?

Incredibly, she recognized the name of a nobleman from Miatto with shares in her father's company. Contriving a pretense to get inside his house without breaking and entering would be a breeze. Quietly, she thanked the gods for another easy mission, and another excuse to sail the Ensollian, where she could clear her mind and her itinerary.

---

Disguised as her father, she paid the man a surprise visit, and shared a meal filled with savory foods. Xiuyang knew that when she transformed back, there would be one hell of a stomachache to pay, but she didn't care. She needed to wine and dine this man and gain access to his personal library. She dug deep into her knowledge of Company business, considering the kind of venture this man might be interested in. It didn't matter if the deal went through or not, but before long, she found herself giving him a sincere pitch. She had her pride as a merchant, after all.

At last, the opportunity came to tour the library. It didn't take Xiuyang long to find what she was looking for. Though it was a humble little book, it stood out to her. "Oh? My wife has a book just like this one."

"Oh yes. Funny story, that one. I was checking out this desk at an auction at Ersand'Enise and found a hidden compartment with that book inside. You'd have laughed if you saw how quickly I shut the drawer, but knowing the owner... I just had to have it!" He steepled his fingers with glee. "So there I was, the only man in the auction who knew of the secret diary, when..." (snip)

Xiuyang zoned out. Miattans certainly could spin tall tales. "Ah, an adventurous venture. Well now, you have my attention," she lied. "What did the contents entail?"

"Some truly eye-opening gibberish!" He laughed. "Madam Mataraci had been quite senile for some time, it seems. It's a shame. If you'd have met her when she was traveling, you'd have thought she was a genius. Why, the heresies in that tome... to pick an example I found most poignant..." (snip) "...you'd have never guessed just from meeting her that she had such wild fantasies. Quite frankly, even at its most sensible, the jargon used goes cleanly over my head." He made a "whoosh" gesture with his hand, which Xiuyang found quite relatable in this moment.

Sounds like blackmail. Perfect. Even on the off chance that Raffaella read the ledger and had the attention span to find out what it all means, I can still keep her quiet. Xiuyang felt the weight of the empty diary in her pocket as she considered what she could do with it while the man wasn't looking. Did he intend to continue reading it? "Sounds like the kind of thing my daughter would be interested in. Would you consider loaning it out? Might be worth a chuckle or two over dinner."

The man raised a brow. "Are you sure you want to encourage her? I thought she was finally cleaning up her act when you told me she was trying to get married. Say, how is that coming along? Have those two made any progress?"

Xiuyang hardly wanted to talk about her love life with a man who might as well be a stranger, but the situation was dire. "Yes, I believe so. She seems truly happy whenever she speaks his name. It seems she feels appreciated by him in a way she never did by her mother or I."

"Ahh, but such is the nature of romance! Why, in my younger days..." (snip) "As the father of a daughter, such a bond is the most you can ask for, my friend." The man smiled. "It might not be appropriate, but if you don't mind my saying so... If those two want to spend some time alone, it might behoove you to look the other way. Someone with her mother's blood type will have the same difficulties you did, yes? They should start trying early for a child, so she can at least have one boy."

Xiuyang felt her eye twitch. It was easy to understand now why this guy was so low on the company totem pole. He had no tact whatsoever. "I've certainly done that," she mused out loud, now having to wonder about her father's intentions. "Perhaps I should speak to her more directly about my expectations?" She'd thought that he didn't care what she did, as long as she married a Volta in the end. Sure, she wanted children someday, but right now, all she could imagine was continuing to travel and do business as she always had, but with the love of her life at her side. Wouldn't having a baby on the way be an obstacle, logistically speaking? The idea of rushing to motherhood made her uncomfortable. It was not a conversation she'd had with Ciro yet. To stay in one place and perpetually await her lover's return home as he pursued business dealings alone and met with more attractive women than her was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

"A bribe, then. Something she will certainly enjoy." She plucked the diary from the shelf, pushing the thought of motherhood from her mind. None of it would matter if her family was ruined. Criminal activity or not, they were her own blood, and if Ciro were to leave her, she would sink down into the depths with them.

"A bribe? I worry for the girl's future if bedding such a handsome young lad is not its own reward."

I'd know that better than anyone, alright?! I don't need that kind of lecture!! Least of all from you!! Xiuyang silently fumed. "As a father who can hardly understand his own daughter's interests, I would appreciate your help in this matter." For a brief moment, Xiuyang almost felt bad for her own father on account of how accurately she was portraying his alleged "struggles." "Please. I'm grasping at straws, here."

She really was, she realized. It would all be devastatingly comical if the stakes weren't so high.

After a moment of bemused pondering, the man shrugged. "Why not? Double my profit share in that proposal of yours, and it's yours from today."

"Your terms are acceptable," Xiuyang replied with little thought. What had she offered him, again?

"Ah! Your love for your daughter moves me. As both a businessman and a gentleman, you are a model for me to follow, Mr. Solari. In fact, ever since..." (snip)

Whatever I offered him, it was too much, even before I doubled it.

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

"Being outside of Rei's reach isn't as great as you think, Oros."

---

Ring Ring~

...

Ring Ring~

...

You have reached the voice mail box of...

Me!! That's who!!

You thought you were off the hook?

I'm so popular, my phone's off the hook!

Now look at you.

You're left holding the line, and the sinker!

Because...

I don't answer phishing calls!

(Sitcom laugh track)

I'll be here all week!

Except right now.

I'm like, super totally busy right now.

Your call is very important to me. Maybe.

Leave a message after the bleep if you think I give a fffFFFF—

Beep.

---

♬

Bright lights invaded Kiyo's eyes. It was an unwelcome interruption to what had previously been an uneventful but peaceful dream: she'd been speeding on her motorcycle down a mostly empty and straight road, feeling the wind in her hair, and one of Shuuko's many bodies against her back in an embrace. She'd been gazing up at one of the very few things she liked to look at—the night sky—with one of the very few people she liked to be with, doing one of the very few things she liked to do. It was, perhaps, the closest thing to heaven that someone like Evil Eye could experience.

So, what the fuck was this shit? Kiyo thought she could hear singing. Figures in white robes stood over her. "It's nice to see you're awake, young miss. What's your name?" one asked. To hell with this! This wasn't a confession booth. What was it, an operating table? You think I'll just let you pluck my eyes out and toss me like a stray cat right through the pearly gates? Fuck you. You created this. It's your fault the balance is all off. You can count me out.

Mother nature was deceptive and vicious. Things that were beautiful were often dangerous, but one place in all of creation where Kiyo could find honesty was in the night sky. There, there was more darkness than light, just as in life, where kind and good people were few, far apart, and always out of reach or too dim to be of any use on this earth. They did, however, have many orbiters—usually a few too many.

Kiyo supposed the angel sought her real name. She imagined giving it to him, only to receive some scalding remark about her Kurai Majokko title in return. Wouldn't it be hilarious to just skip all the pretentiousness? "Evil Eye," she managed with a smirk. Speaking was still difficult, it seemed. "Hm? Sorry, could you repeat that?"

The singing gave way to the familiar buzzing of incandescent bulbs. The figures began to come into focus. This was, in fact, a hospital, and Kiyo was very much not dead yet. "Uh. Ybille Ai," she decided, noticing that Shuuko wasn't around. That was unusual—not that Kiyo made a habit of getting hospitalized, but she figured the priestess would sooner nurse her partner to health by herself than entrust her to some doctor. Maybe there was some kind of emergency? "Ybille Ai. Alright, Ai-san," he remarked, deadpan. "Please remain calm. You are safe and expected to make a full recovery. You suffered a concussion, and your right ankle is broken along with several ribs, but considering the circumstances I'd say your survival was a miracle. The paramedics found you over a hundred meters away from your bike. It was totaled. Would you like me to call your parents?"

Kiyo was stunned, but not by the man's lacking bedside manner. She had been riding her bike, hadn't she? That's right. She was trying to solve the mystery of why the Miseria in Hibusa Town were so weak. She had an initial hypothesis: that her magical power itself also relied upon the same "tragic energy" that the Miseria fed upon, and so her presence, or constant surveillance of Hibusa Town might have been the cause. The best way to test it was to travel to another place by herself, with no summoned minions constantly watching everything. Fortunately, not only was her hypothesis false, but she'd developed a much better hypothesis that seemed to have been correct. Not that she'd had any intention of returning to Hibusa Town, of course—the entire premise of her "mission" was just an excuse to get away from that doomed place. Even if about half of the Detention Club were redeemable agents, anyone with functioning eyes could see that they were held back by a leader that didn't seem capable of feeling any kind of urgency. She'd forgotten where she was driving when a streak of bright burning metal started chasing her like some kind of missile, but it turned out to be a magical girl. She'd grabbed Kiyo, and then... blank.

"Uhm. Don't have any parents," she lied. Was it a lie? Not like it mattered. "My roomie will pick me up. She's a good girl." She thought about using her magic to convince the doctor that she didn't need a ride, but why the rush? She didn't exactly have anywhere to be at the moment.

Ring Ring~

...

Ring Ring~

...

Maybe Shuuko was in a battle. Seemed like she'd have to leave a message.

Beep.

"Hey, Shuuko. I know I'm late calling. Actually... I'm in the hospital, so come pick me up. It's not that bad but I crashed my bike and I, uh, don't feel like walking."

"Alright, Ai-san. I'm going to prescribe some painkillers for you, so please wait here." Kiyo considered telling him not to bother, since she could just transform as soon as she hit the restroom and the pain would go away, but what the hell? She'd still owed money on that totaled bike—unlike the "disposable" bikes which she stole for one-off missions, she actually owned and took care of that one. This meant that she was now broke, and pills were free money. Just as he'd turned to leave, though, she remembered something. "By the way, doc, where are we?" she asked. The doctor looked a little surprised. No, he looked a little tired. Come to think of it, he'd forgotten to introduce himself, too. "Ah, of course. My apologies. This is..."

The City of Light

^{Written in Collaboration with BrokenPromise}

"Hello, doctor?! Would you hurry up?! It's an emergency, alright?!"

---

♬

You've got to be fucking kidding me, of all places!

Fuck, fuck, fuck!!

"S-Sorry, Shuuko, I gotta go. Call me back, ok?"

Click.

Furious, she squeezed bunches of her bed sheet for stress relief as she considered leaving without those pills. To think she'd been so flippantly considering using her magic just moments before. Any one of these nurses, any one of her fellow patients could be—no, was probably a magical girl. People being a little too eager to gaze into Kiyo's eyes was not exactly an unfamiliar phenomenon, but now she found herself averting her eyes from everyone, so she wouldn't be found out. She wondered if it made her look even more suspicious. Finally, the doctor had returned with the pills and what was left of Kiyo's belongings: her cell phone, which mercifully was locked but had a cracked screen, and the very ragged-looking remains of her bike jacket. It was in rough shape, but it seemed that whatever magical girl had caught her saw fit to make sure she didn't hit the pavement, at least. Well, she definitely wasn't going to stick around to meet her, at any rate.

Kiyo walked uncomfortably fast with her single crutch. Who else could she call? Did she actually have any reliable, non-magical girl contacts in Hibusa Town? Even Rei wouldn't dare come here, probably. Even if she would, it'd mean getting back in with the Detention Club, and that was no good. The same was true of the Rule Keeper. She wasn't particularly close to anyone else besides Shuuko. She would probably freak out, but it was better than calling nobody... probably. She'd just have to rely on her. It was with this thought that Kiyo slipped into the hospital's elevator. She didn't have time for something like learning how to navigate stairs like this right now.

"Hey miss! You're not from here, are you?"

With a jolt, Kiyo turned her eyes towards the shorter girl, with much more innocent eyes than hers.

"Sorry! I didn't recognize your uniform, so I got curious! Are you a tourist? Do you do modeling? Is it cosplay?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"...Y-yeah. I was visiting. That was the plan," Kiyo lied.

"Aw, do you have to go? You should come back sometime. It's great here! This place is so great, it's like a fairytale... Well, you don't seem like the kind of girl who believes in magic."

"Well, uh... I survived my bike crash, so that's one miracle. Do you think asking God for a second miracle would be too greedy?"

"Oh, of course not! I pray you have a speedy recovery!" The girl waved way too enthusiastically for Kiyo's comfort as she left the elevator. She almost missed the fact that this was the ground floor.

At last, the lobby. ...The hell it is! 'At last' nothing! Where do I go from here?! she thought furiously as she hastily walked outside. It was bright—so, so bright. It had to be broad daylight, but she couldn't see a thing. All she could do was keep moving, hoping her crutch would entitle her to a wide berth from the crowd. Privately, she wondered if her inability to see anything without shielding her eyes made her stick out. How she hated this accursed brightness.

"Stop right there!! Don't move!!"

Kiyo froze. Surely, this was the end of her life. Or was it? She only knew that Kurai Majokko who entered the City of Light never left. Was it death that awaited her, or worse—some kind of exorcism? The latter was probably unlikely, but if Kiyo was anything approximately in the ball park of "former mad scientist of the Detention Club," she was unlikely to participate in any self-reflection on this level of projection.

So, that was it. "Evil Eye" would die here.

"You almost fell right down the stairs into the subway! Here, take my hand."

Another smiling girl full of kindness. This one was a bit taller than Kiyo.

"You look like you're in pain. Are you alright? Can you manage?"

Between the pain and the brightness, Kiyo was indeed holding back tears. To cry would be to release her magic. To cry here would be the end. She didn't fear death—no, what Kiyo feared was losing sight of the Truth. To return to the light would be to become "blind" once more. "I'll do it myself. The doctor said I'd never walk properly again if I don't do it myself, so..." She lied again.

"...Oh! I'm sorry, I just thought... Please be careful, okay?"

"Heh. Right." Kiyo scowled quietly as she turned her attention from another waving lunatic to the infernal stairs. To accept kindness from a light girl would be to allow her magic power to increase; in the first place, it was a manner of "kindness" that was indistinguishable from exploitation. Evil Eye would not entertain such false ideals. Setting that aside, accepting kindness from others would slow her descent into deeper darkness—she'd never allow such a thing to stall her scientific progress.

Well, that was just her own personal hypothesis. It stood to reason that if light girls gained in strength from practicing virtues, dark girls could gain in strength from rejecting them. More important to the task at hand... Looks like that station is closest to the city limits. She regarded the man who stood in her way from afar with calculating eyes. If she used even an iota of her magic's usual strength, she could easily convince him to let her board without a pass. She imagined doing so. She also imagined at least half a dozen pairs of eyes locking onto her immediately. So, that was out—but there was always a way.

Like other girls, Kiyo had once been part of this thing called a "polite society." In Japan, where everyone was just oh so well behaved, who would ever do such a thing? No one, of course. That's why it was completely unguarded. Good. I hate crawling around like a snake. 'Protagonists' should be on their knees hiding from me, not the other way around, she thought irritably.

Kiyo popped a pill, waited for her moment, then pulled the fire alarm.

Predictably, panic ensued. Also predictably, no less than eight girls found opportunities to transform and begin looking for the fire—Kiyo wouldn't look at them directly, but now she could see the board. A few of the magical girls watched over the civilians as they escaped. One took an interest in Kiyo. "Come on! You can do it! Just a little farther! ...Woah!" The girl invisibly shoved a man who was fleeing the same restroom corridor from behind, preventing Kiyo from being trampled. Kiyo forced her eyes away from the girl like she was a camera on set. In theory, being in close proximity to multiple light girls was a constant in this place. It wasn't like their transformations changed the situation. In practice, seeing them all made Kiyo's skin crawl.

"She's scared. Poor thing. Can't we just carry her out?"

"Well, of course she's scared! She can barely walk and there's a fire!"

"Hey guys," another magical girl yawned. "There's no fire. We checked, liiike... everywhere. So... Let's just go to school like this. I don't wanna be late again..."

"Really? Someone made a mistake?"

"Looks like it. I mean, I really don't care what happened since there's no fire, sooo... yeah. I'm leaving."

"But..."

"Come on. If we keep her waiting, she'll just skip school altogether."

"Yeah, but..."

Kiyo didn't look at them, but she could feel the last girl's eyes on her. Just go. Like your friend said, you don't really care, so. Beat it! Finally, she looked up, and Kiyo was all alone in the subway—except for one of the watchmen, who was facing the other way and talking to someone upstairs, out of sight. Kiyo lifted her crutch up off the ground and took off running towards the empty train. Despite the help from the painkillers, running quickly gave way to speed-walking, which became shuffling, and then limping. Back to the crutch, then. At least now she was on the train.

She would probably be spotted when the surveillance footage was reviewed a day later, but by then, she'd be out of town. For now, if anyone asked, she was just a tired, injured girl on the back of the train that no one saw, who accidentally knocked herself out with medicine and slept through a fire alarm on the luckiest day possible to make that mistake. Pity tended to override probing questions.

Actually, she was pretty tired... a nap couldn't hurt too badly...

♬

But sleep would not come easy for Kiyo. Not because of the railway noise, or how every shadow presented a place for someone to hide. Even the eerie feeling that came from being in a liminal space would give her little trouble. It was the other thing. The faint blue light that painted the shadows, the familiar buzz of an electric fly trap, all letting her know that she wasn't alone on this train.

It revealed itself slowly. A ball as white as porcelain inched past her seat. It was so white it reminded her of the hospital walls, only it was arcing with electricity. As it continued to come into view, Kiyo could see that was only the end of the contraption. It had blue and red cable that connected further down the body of the machine, only to vanish under body panels that were just as white as the dynamo on the end. But it wasn't just a contraption. A gloved hand was holding it, and as the hand's owner stepped into view Kiyo could see it was a girl. One with a white and black jacket and hair that could only be stylized by an electronic discharge. Her thick black gloves made her look like a mad scientist, but the pouches all over her outfit also made her look like a soldier. The lightning girl turned her blue eyes on Kiyo. Then she smiled and lowered her weapon.

"Sup?"

It was at this moment that Kiyo knew: no matter how perfect (self-proclaimed) her plans were laid out, they were always subject to Murphy's Law. Between the magical girl who attacked(?) her on the road, the paramedics, the doctors and nurses, and many other civilians, the chances that none of them had been a magical girl and also caught a glimpse of the tattoo at the base of her neck was near zero. Indeed, she should have seized her moment and left the hospital without a care for anything or anyone. Those pills had cost her a valuable chance to raise the odds that she wasn't followed.

On the other side of that same coin, the chances that this was a random encounter were also not zero, so there was nothing to be gained from giving herself up immediately. Lazily, Kiyo looked around, for nothing and no one in particular, hoping she looked at least somewhat convincingly confused. She waited just a little bit long, but not too long waiting for the magical girl to decide that Kiyo couldn't see her. "Last stop?" she wondered aloud, channeling her best Tsubomi impression. Even in this situation—no, especially in this situation, she could not help but ask a question with a double meaning.

The longer this light girl stood by Kiyo's side, the more it started to smell like ozone. Her smile grew as electricity arced between the points in her hair. It was as if she relished the silence.

"Is that how you answer sup?" She slid into an adjacent seat on the opposite side of the train. She placed her contraption in her lap and flexed her fingers. "I don't like to plan for the future. I'm looking for something, and my next stop could be soon or an hour from now. But... I think I'll know it when I see it. I usually do." She nodded to herself. "Do you know where you're headed?" Did that have a double meaning, or was it just an innocent question?

Kiyo flicked her eyes towards the electric girl briefly. Kiyo's red eyes were slightly magnetic, but then again, weren't most foreigner girls like that? They warranted a second look because they were uncommon. "You knew I could see you," she observed. "Am I that obvious, or are you just really good?" She allowed the question to settle a bit as she pondered the light girl's musings.

"I'm just a little observant." She looked ahead and folded her hands behind her head. She couldn't lean back too far, the giant tesla coil sticking out of her backpack obstructed her. "You're in a lot of pain, clearly. There was a hospital that wasn't too far away. If you were worried about your injury, which you should be, then you would have gone there. But maybe you didn't know about the hospital, or were too panicked to remember where it was." Without looking, she pointed at Kiyo's phone. "But you do have a phone. You could call someone if you really needed help. But you've chosen not to. So, you're probably a magical girl." She looked back and smiled. "Of course, I didn't know for sure until you answered back."

Kiyo listened to the girl with the science motif offer her thesis, and watched her point to the correct pocket at a cell phone she was sure the girl hadn't physically seen Kiyo holding at any point. She can detect pain and emotional states by reading the electrical signals. For someone packing so much firepower, that's pretty sophisticated. Kiyo smiled, her interest piqued. "Your conclusion is correct, but the premise was wrong. The doctor already did all he could. If I'm going to be in pain anyway, I might as well keep on living. I'd rather do that than stagnate in a hospital bed and eat protein bars."

She gave her prior question some more thought. She chose her words more carefully than she normally would when forced to entertain a stranger. Perhaps the possibility that they were engaged in some kind of verbal game of cat and mouse intrigued her. "Where I'm headed? Just a little further down the tunnel. Maybe there's light at the end of it. Maybe there isn't. I'll know when I get there." Her smile grew wider. She didn't mean for her comment to mirror the other girl's, but it did. "I always used to scout ahead before going to new places... but my friends called me 'boring,' so I stopped doing that." What was this, a confession booth? Why was she talking about her days as a light girl with a stranger? "Maybe I'll get off when I feel like walking again," she added, much less seriously.

♬

"That might be a bit." She stood back up and reached for a hand brace. With all her gear, it was probably a lot more comfortable to stand up. "If we're going to keep talking, I'm Boleite. Bodacious Boleite if you're part of the team. But you're not, and if I'm honest, it's a little cringe. I thought Badass Boleite would be cool, but everyone thought that was too vulgar." She sighed. "You're forgiven if you don't want to share your own name though. This is an awkward situation we've found ourselves in, isn't it?"

Boleite talked on, and Kiyo listened. It occurred to her that this girl could probably fry her like a mosquito if she really wanted to. There really wasn't any reason not to, either, other than their mutual amusement. Unless... "You're playing hooky too, aren't you?" The question came suddenly like a syringe before the alcohol was allowed to dry. "I won't tell anyone. But before that... what, exactly, is cringe? Not being gay? You can count me out. Call yourself a badass if you really want to. Who cares what anyone else thinks?"

Boleite looked like she was going to tell Kiyo what cringe was, but her rapid fire response didn't allow her much room to speak. The girl only shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "I'm part of a magical girl team, so our names do need to mesh for cohesion. And honestly..." She lifted her weapon up in the air and pumped her bicep. "It's a lot cooler if you just show people you're a bad ass. Cringe is just something that gives people second hand embarrassment. Like when dark magical girls get into waxing philosophical about the night or go on about how unfair and wrong the world is." Kiyo looked ready to tell Boleite that she knew what cringe is, but then she had to call her out like that. Her mild annoyance manifested itself as a raised brow.

"As for playing hooky? Not exactly." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, I guess I'm not at school right now. But that can get cleared up with a phone call. Though I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I just left after such a strange event." She pointed at the doors leading out with her weapon. "I mean, a fire alarm gets pulled. There's no fire, so that's a good thing. But it does make me wonder who did it, and why." Her hair was stiff, but it seemed to spring when she swung her head side to side. "It couldn't have been any of the light girls. They were all pretty eager to return to school, and it wasn't like they had any motive." For some reason, Kiyo thought it odd that in the City of Light, specifying "light girls" would be necessary. Everyone knew there weren't any dark magical girls in the City of Light. At least, there weren't supposed to be. "Maybe some brat did it and escaped without me noticing, but I don't think that's very interesting." The smile left her face while she stared into Kiyo's eyes. "Why did you do it?"

Kiyo jolted.

---

Hey, Ai-chan. Next time, just tell me what's going on, alright?

W-What do you mean? It wasn't me, I swear!

Ai-chan... You know you're a terrible liar, right?

Huh?! H-How can you tell..?

It's your eyes! They're so big and round. Everyone can tell what you're thinking.

...Also, you just told me.

Guh..!

---

Piin-pon.

No, it had been the train that jolted. At some point, it had started moving. Had they really been talking for that long? Had the conductor returned, or was it Boleite's doing? She could kill her in the tunnel and blame the entire incident on a malfunction. The third rail would be blamed for the smoldering corpse. Or, perhaps she'd just paralyze her and cause the train to run away and crash, if she wanted to make a clever quip about her "last stop." She could take the credit for noticing a problem with the train and pulling the fire alarm to save everyone. For the moment, though, the train remained motionless, almost as though it refused to move until Boleite had received an answer to her query.

Kiyo met Boleite's eyes lazily. I'd have to be pretty dull to fall for this same trick again to the same girl in the same conversation. She was quite certain there were no eyes on her when she pulled the alarm. Then again, if this girl could detect electrical signals, she could probably detect bodies. But, could she detect them through walls while untransformed? It was a gamble. Lying was always a gamble, while a little honesty sometimes went a long way—but in a context where Boleite could turn her into a pile of black goo with no consequences... "...Is that the dramatic twist? I did it? That's a little lame, don't you think? Maybe someone was just scared and needed an adult, and pulling a switch was easier than speaking up. I once knew a shy girl who would do that kinda thing." She rocked her neck, cracking it. It hurt a little. "I won't lie, though, it was convenient for me. My train pass was obliterated along with my wallet when I crashed my bike. When it rains, it pours."

"And sometimes, it thunders." Boleite added with a chuckle. "I don't know. I really don't know. I think it could be interesting." She leaned forward, if only because the train was turning. Kiyo leaned back in her seat as Boleite leaned forward. "Like, we know you're a magical girl, right?" She chuckled. "You don't like hospitals because you don't want to be forced to eat protein bars, and you think I should call myself whatever I like because I shouldn't care about what other people think of me. Those seem like interesting traits for someone who stopped scouting because their friends called them boring."

Piin-pon.

Two more stops. Was Kiyo's gaslighting really effective at all, or was Boleite outright telling her that she was showing mercy just now?

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you still have those friends? Probably not. You would have waited in a safe place so that they could come and get you. Actually, you missed your chance to get those light girls to help you. But you hid from them. You didn't want them to find you. I can't think of many reasons why you'd try to keep such a low profile. I mean, magical girls are more or less invisible, and stronger than their normal selves. So the only reason why you'd insist on staying like that despite injury is if you were hiding from them." She let go of the hanger. Her feet were locked to the metal floor of the train. "You're right, you pulling the alarm as a prank is kinda boring. But if you were a dark magical girl trying to flee? With light girls like myself creeping around every corner? That would be pretty badass."

Piin-pon.

One more stop. The train squeaked and thumped along. For some strange reason, Kiyo thought the noise profile of the train was very similar to that of "domestic violence next door."

Kiyo looked visibly uncomfortable. "I tried joining a couple of magical girl troupes. They were suffocating, so I ditched. I'd rather be under the radar, but that seems impossible in this place, so I didn't plan on staying long." She seemed to be pointedly ignoring Boleite's comment on dark magical girls, until she suddenly spoke up again. "I like to travel a lot. Magical girls working together seems to be the norm here more than anywhere else. Seems something like a dark magical girl existing here would be unlikely." She'd probably been thinking of a way to change the subject.

Instead, she asked the kind of question that would probably scandalize an innocent light girl.

"What would you do if a junior of yours were to start turning dark? Like, is there a protocol for that? Can they be pulled back from the precipice, or is it like an event horizon?" she mused. It was not the sort of question a magical girl of light would ask so casually. She spoke of it as though it were something to be studied, rather than feared.

"I don't know. It's never come up."

Kiyo looked a little disappointed—but there was also a strange kind of respect, too.

"Ah, right. You did say you don't like to plan for the future."

A moment passed in stone cold silence. The conversation had stopped, but it took an uncomfortable amount of time for the train to follow suit.

Piin-pon.

With some difficulty, Kiyo stood up and forced a smile through the pain. "I hope you find what you're looking for at your next stop, Badass Boleite. But, if you find me instead, call me Kiyo. It's a fake name, but it's one of very few things that belongs to me, so I don't give it out to just anyone."

"Like the folk character?" Boleite inquired.

If I were a snake, I would have bit you, was what Kiyo decided was the clever answer, but she wouldn't offer it.

When Boleite realized her query would go unanswered, she shrugged her shoulders. "Well thanks! If I happen to see you again I'll be sure to remember it." She saluted Kiyo as the dark magical girl stumbled her way towards the exit. "May you finish your daring escape!"

Kiyo let out a good-natured scoff. Light girls. Always have to get the last word in... Slowly, she made her way off the train and out of the subway without incident, but not without struggle. If going down stairs was precarious, going up stairs was going to be exhausting. Then, there would be that wretched brightness again.

Wait...

There's... a wheelchair-accessible ramp here! Was there one at the other stop?

There was.

With the sun in her eyes, she must have not seen it. Kiyo pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. Of course. It doesn't take a scientist to think that a girl with a crutch going down stairs would look a little odd if there was a ramp. Looks like I got that second miracle after all.

Slowly, but surely, Kiyo made her way to the less-populated outskirts of the City of Light. As romantic as it would be to walk off into the sunset, though, no one could argue that going any further like this wouldn't look a little odd. In the end, I still need a ride, huh. It was then that Kiyo realized something. I don't need my wallet to get a ride. I just need my phone! Quickly, she shuffled towards a gas station parking lot and set to work mooching the wifi. Ugh. Card declined. Great... ...Shuuko wouldn't mind, right? It's an actual emergency this time. But, her memory was foggy. At the best of times, she could remember something like a credit card number just fine, even if she only saw it a few times, but right now, she was tired, recovering from a concussion, and probably a little drugged out.

"Hey, cutie. Need a ride?"

A stranger was looking over Kiyo's shoulder at her broken phone screen, watching her predicament unfold. So, even in the City of Light, there are guys like this, she mused. "Yeah, but... it's a long way out of town..." she replied innocently.

"Hey, don't sweat. I'll take care of it."

It was a manner of "kindness" that was indistinguishable from exploitation.

But, in this case, there was no dishonesty, only honest selfishness.

They both understood the rules of engagement here.

...

Well, maybe he didn't, but that was his problem.

"Where we headed, sweet cheeks?" he asked, preening his absurd hair as he met Kiyo's eyes in the rear view mirror. For a little while, he simply admired them, content to listen to the sound of the engine as he took his catch onto a long and empty lane of the nearest highway out.

There was plenty of traffic going in to the City of Light in the evening, but going out would be a breeze... if not for the pair of invisible magical girls currently following them. Kiyo reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling as she massaged it. He could no longer see or hear anything but what Evil Eye wanted him to see.

"Straight to hell, buddy."

---

♬

Evil Eye gave only the briefest of glances to the transformed girls who appeared in the mirror as she locked the doors.

The hapless guy, however, sat transfixed. He saw demons. Horrible, screeching, long-nailed demons, that's what those girls were.

Instinctively, he screamed and floored the gas pedal—an appropriate reaction to being pursued by bloodthirsty women, and one which Evil Eye was counting on.

"W-What the fuck are those things?!" he cried out over the roar of the car's rapidly accelerating engine.

Evil Eye regarded the pursuing magical girls with some ill-timed scientific curiosity.

"It's a surprisingly philosophical question. I'm not really sure, myself, but some kind of cosmic horror is probably involved. Just look at me, and they won't hurt you. If you look at me, and don't look at them, they won't be able to touch you... if you look at them, though, we're both gonna die," she added nonchalantly. Unsure of what else he could possibly do in this surreal and horrifying situation, he obeyed, locking his eyes on Evil Eye's.

"I-I smell sulfur! They're really demons?!" he replied as he fell into deeper delusion.

"Stop the car!!" one magical girl shouted through the window as she roller-bladed alongside it, but Evil Eye ignored her pleas.

"Yeah. They'll torment you in all kinds of little ways and convince you that it's your fault. Then they'll wait until you get used to having them around, and stab you in the back. Just look at me," she insisted, as she moved her hand to retrieve a small screwdriver from her bike jacket pocket.

"What are you doing?! Stop!!" the girl pleaded through the passenger window, trying the handle in vain. The car was going so fast, she didn't know what she could do without causing the car to swerve or the driver to panic. She wasn't strong enough to slow the car down to a stop. Her partner was, but she wasn't fast enough to get in front!

Evil Eye jerked her head to the side to look the girl in the eyes as she whipped out the screwdriver from her bike jacket, pointing it at the guy's neck. Those unnaturally wide-open eyes that seemed to lock hers in place like magnets were filled with a kind of evil scarcely seen even among dark magical girls. That crazed glance was the last thing she saw before the sights and sounds of the road faded away into a scene of a funeral. All of her magical girl friends were there, blaming her for someone's death in "the car crash." All of this could have been avoided if she'd not tried to play the hero. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, and though she only saw it for a few seconds before she snapped back to reality, she found that she had untransformed, and stopped her pursuit entirely. Her friend looked on in horror as she simply stood there, helpless in the middle of the highway in a daze.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

"NO!!" her partner cried, leaping to her rescue and snatching her out of the way of the oncoming truck, shielding her body as they both tumbled into a ditch. Thank the stars, she'd managed to fall back to her position just in time. "Are you alright?! What did she do to you?! ...Say something, please..!"

Her friend said nothing. Her eyes, like the dark girl's eyes, were open wide. She looked scared, confused, and sad, all at once. She let out a whimper and sobbed into her hands. Her partner could do nothing but hold her and put her own smoldering fury on the back burner.

Evil Eye turned her attention back to her captive audience. He'd long since stopped making any kind of noise. So long as Evil Eye kept looking back to the mirror, this singular moment of terror would last an eternity for the helpless boy with no resistance to magic. Something else grabbed her attention, though: a police blockade. "Looks like this is your last stop," she remarked blithely.

A moment of indecision passed.

"...Slow down a little, or you're going to die." She wasn't sure why she said it. This wasn't Hibusa Town, and there was no Rule Keeper to prevent her from using any tragedy she wanted to further her own ends. Perhaps even she couldn't help but be a little grateful to Boleite for letting her go. "If you're gonna force me to accept kindness from you, I'm going to get even... but I'm not going to spit on your shoe. It's beneath me."

Evil Eye unbuckled her seat belt, and positioned her crutch in front of her head. An adrenaline-fueled moment stretched out in time. One moment, she was in the car—the next, she was flying through the air, eyes shut tight, holding her breath so as not to inhale the glass. The last time she'd flown through the air while escaping, it had been her hometown, her ex, and the friend who belittled and betrayed her.

...It hurts.

Blackened tears fell like mascara down Evil Eye's cheeks. They expanded, defying conservation of mass. Then, they morphed into a great black dog, which hit the ground running. Evil Eye wrapped her arms around its neck and held on for dear life. She felt the wind in her hair under the night sky. There was an embrace, but this one was cold as ice. For how long she did that, and how long she dreamed of it, she didn't know. One moment, she was listening to the sounds of the sirens fade into the distance. The next, she was laying on some grass somewhere.

The pair of pursuing magical girls arrived at the scene of the crash. The roller-blading girl saw the boy being carried off on a stretcher, moaning in agony as the dark magical girl's spell seemed to be starting to wear off. Unable to believe her own eyes, she rushed to the driver-side door of the smashed sports car. "...It's buckled," she remarked as she held the remains of the cut seat belt the boy had been extracted from. "It wasn't before. I saw it."

Her friend came up behind her and observed the scene. She whistled. "Another too-cool-for-a-seat-belt headass, huh? He wised up in time. Saved him." She watched her friend obsess over the detail for some reason. Suddenly, she got the urge to hug her again. "Glad you're okay."

"R-Right. Thanks. You saved my life!"

"Bout time you figured that out. Let's go home. That girl is long gone by now."

"Yeah," she agreed soberly.

He was definitely in a trance. She buckled his seat belt. Why would a dark girl do that?

Her partner would likely scoff at such a theory. So, she kept it to herself.

The news would report that an unidentified injured girl with a crutch had pulled a fire alarm in the subway, likely to get away from someone who had been stalking her. In the end, though, she had gotten into a stranger's car, and was never seen again, though the young man was caught in a high speed chase and brought to justice. There had been a warrant put out for his arrest in nearby Hibusa Town for failing to appear in court. To top it off, he had been facing sexual harassment charges. Abduction charges were dropped on account of a lack of evidence, and his sentence would be reduced on account of temporary insanity, but the women of Japan would never have to deal with him again, as he distanced himself from society—especially women.

The story would become something of an unsolved mystery. It sent shockwaves through the media, but was quickly forgotten about, except on obscure internet forums. Only a few magical girls knew that the abducted girl had been a Kurai Majokko, but even with the benefit of hindsight, they couldn't know if she had instigated whatever transpired in that car, or if the girl had been defending herself from a creep when their arrival had caused the confrontation to escalate. They didn't even know if she was alive or not. One magical girl's personal hypothesis was that she had made it out alright in the end.

Meanwhile, the culprit was looking up at a familiar face.

"...Interesting," she said, as everything faded to black.

...I can't be bothered with that nasty attitude of yours.

You want to drag me back into your court full of jesters?

That's fine.

Keep playing at being 'queen.'

I'll keep being your 'vizier.'

Just don't be surprised when that complacent attitude plays out exactly like the fairy tales.

When I surpass you, will you say it's "interesting" then?

Or will you try to pass it off as being your plan from the start?

...

Ah, shit.

I can hear my phone ringing.

Don't worry, Shuuko.

It'll be alright.

I'll tell you everything.

The story of how I, a stray cat, narrowly escaped the pearly gates.

...

I might leave out the part where my life was spared by a fellow scientist, though.

That part's kinda cringe.

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

"Never leave a girl on read. Tell her to bet it all on black!"

---

It wasn't as if the Detention Club was made of money. If it was, that scratch had yet to trickle down any further than Rei, at any rate. So it was that not every one of Shuuko's mostly-disposable bodies could have a fully featured smartphone. Actually, money didn't seem like it would be the only issue. It sounded like a total logistical nightmare. If they all had one, though, did Shuuko hold some kind of world record? In any case, only the real one had a smart phone, probably. Did she actually keep it on her when she went on a mission, though? Seemed like it would be an easy way to know which one to target, if a light girl who was so inclined had her number, in more ways than one. Medusa's Mirror was always together when fighting, so Kiyo never needed to call during one, so she didn't really know. Maybe she should ask these kinds of questions. Did the other clones have burner phones? If not, maybe they should. All Kiyo really knew was that if she needed to call Shuuko right the fuck now, she should probably call the number she'd saved from the Detention Club's group chat and hope to get lucky. Just wing it, girl! What could possibly go wrong?

(1) Voicemail

"Hey, Shuuko. I know I'm late calling. Actually... I'm in the hospital, so come pick me up. It's not that bad but I crashed my bike and I, uh, don't feel like walking."

"Alright, Ai-san. I'm going to prescribe some painkillers for you, so please wait here."

There was a huff. Kiyo didn't take kindly to having her white lies called out mid-sentence.

"By the way, doc, where are we?"

A pause. Kiyo's breath could be heard getting ragged and difficult.

"S-Sorry, Shuuko, I gotta go. Call me back, ok?"

Click.

..."Sorry?" Kiyo never talked like that. Usually, there was more swearing.

Hopefully, the morphine just mellowed her out a little.

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

---

Kuroki Kiyo - EVIL EYE

Kuroki Kiyo

Kurai Majokko EVIL EYE

"BUT IF THINE EYE BE EVIL, THY WHOLE BODY SHALL BE FULL OF DARKNESS—THEREFORE PLUCK IT OUT, AND CAST IT FROM THEE..."

• Name: Kuroki Kiyo
• Title: EVIL EYE
• Age: Older in spirit than the others. Really, who cares?

• Emblem: An udjat eye-styled tattoo on her back, at the base of her neck. Touching it allows others to see what she sees.

• Devil Arm - HEIMDAL GAZZO: A pair of magical crimson contact lenses. These once gave Kiyo an ability akin to x-ray vision, and a zoom feature which allowed her to be her allies' "eye in the sky." Now, her contact lenses emit a signal which, through eye contact, can cause psychedelic effects in her victims. Untransformed, even ordinary people may find her gaze mesmerizing, but with enough prolonged exposure in a transformed state, even magical girls can be affected. At first, victims will merely see or hear things that aren't there, but given enough time, the senses of taste, smell and touch can also be captured. If eye contact is maintained even longer still, the victim may lose their perception of time, believe things that are not true, or even remember things that didn't happen. After eye contact is broken, they will eventually recover, usually after a maximum of five minutes—but if it isn't? Kiyo claims her gaze alone can cause magical girls to fall to darkness.

• Magic - ABYSSAL TEARS: Her once-innocent wish to see the world was corrupted when she saw too much. Now, whenever EVIL EYE witnesses misfortune, wickedness, or other events that could cause Miseria to spawn, a kind of evil energy called "Saigai" is stored in her eyes. When released, her black ABYSSAL TEARS can form like sludge into monsters; most commonly levitating eye creatures called Mogall. These can transmit images of whatever they see directly to HEIMDAL GAZZO, giving Kiyo acute awareness of anything her minions are sent to spy upon. Mogall are weak, and can only use their sticky tendrils to stall Kiyo's enemies for just long enough to possibly allow her to escape danger and reunite with other Kurai Majokko—however, they can quickly become a problem if allowed to multiply unchecked. Stronger monsters capable of combat called "Traumas" can be formed using ABYSSAL TEARS, but using their wicked energies to do this will cause HEIMDALL GAZZO's more severe hypnotic effects to recede into more simple illusions. In theory, even more terrifying beasts called "Calamities" can be summoned, but this has yet to ever happen, so it remains EVIL EYE'S personal hypothesis.

• Background: Kiyo was once a perfect little angel, just like all of her sisters. Like many girls her age, she wanted to make the world a better place, but had no idea where to start. She wanted to be a good person, but wasn't really sure what that meant. She understood that it probably meant helping people, but it turned out that, secretly, she doesn't actually like working with people all that much—working with people who are broken and needy, even less so. She was the kind of person who had her life pretty put together, and didn't have much patience for anyone who wasn't just like her. She needed a clique. She wanted to see the world. Thus, when Kiyo had the opportunity to become part of a troupe of magical girls with ambitions to see all of Japan—and then the world—she accepted without question.

The other girls weren't like her, though. Far from it—they were selfish, and craved the spotlight that their role as heroes afforded them. Kiyo, meanwhile, did thankless work behind the scenes, mostly just scouting for trouble. She thought she was giving the other magical girls what they wanted: the spotlight. However, with her ability to see almost anything, anywhere, she quickly found out that the others did not respect her, at all. That was fine, though; they had a point: she wasn't great at combat. So, whenever she had the chance, she took Judo lessons. It was through those lessons that she got close to a boy her age, and eventually fell head over heels for him. The other girls did not take kindly to that, either. Most of them agreed that, sure, she was cute, but she was a "basic bitch," and he was out of her league.

It all came to a head when, one day, she was doing her scouting routine, and was missing him, and happened to pass over his place. She told herself that she shouldn't, but he had given her a key to his apartment by this point, though she had yet to use it. She figured it would be fine to just take a peek into his room to see how he was doing. She had seen many things in her life, and many evils which slowly challenged her optimism for this job, eroded her purity, and questioned her convictions—but seeing her boyfriend cheating on her with one of her supposed "friends" was the final straw. The innocent Magical Girl of Light, Eagle Eye, was never seen again, vanishing into the night.

Sample Post

Kiyo's blood ran colder than the surrounding night air as she watched, her ex-boyfriend and ex-friend taunting her with the warmth they were sharing behind her back. Both her face and knuckles turned pale as they tightened along with her chest, her heartbeat racing along with her mind as she weighed her options. She was not a fighter. Saya was. So was Nobu, but he couldn't take Saya in a fight if things turned south, and who's to say he was even on her side? Kiyo's face twisted, irate, as tears of anguish and fury silently streamed down her frigid cheeks, providing the only touch of warmth she would receive tonight—or for a long while, she supposed, for it was over.

It was purely and simply over. She had seen enough evil in the world, and had enough of being powerless to change it. All she wanted out of this job, at first, was to see the world, and to help the people in it, and she had given up on her initial dream of traveling when her allies had become addicted to the spotlight and the fame they enjoyed in Japan. Failing that, she had decided that charity should start at home, and resigned herself to help the people of Japan—but the government was corrupt, she saw. She saw everything, and was politely—with a subtle menace—told not to notice. The existence of heroes in this world was not celebrated—it was tolerated—perhaps exploited in some ways. The worst part was—or had been—that she couldn't tell her friends the truth—that everything they did was for nothing, in the end. "This is how Japan is," she longed to tell them, but the world had replied "this is how the world is, you fool."

It didn't matter anymore. Those girls, and especially that whore, didn't deserve to know the Truth. She decided, in this moment, to reclaim her lost wish: to see the world. The tattoo on her back twisted, becoming not an eagle's eye but a Masonic Eye. Her contact lenses receded from the bedroom below, refusing along with Kiyo to continue to witness such debauchery. They sang as they resonated with a subtle glow, showing Kiyo the world that she so wished to see—yet the blackened tears continued to fall, as she knew it to be both an illusion, and a sign of further mutations to come. She was turning, she knew—and could no longer muster the courage to protest the change. She would no longer be Eagle Eye, but EVIL EYE—the name coming to her as naturally as the wind, which chilled her more than the realization that she had become a Kurai Majokko. Her tears, too, grew cold, threatening to freeze to her cheeks. Her final speck of warmth was gone—as was she.

• Other:

Old Transformation

• Before being corrupted and becoming ABYSSAL TEARS, her magic once condensed "memories" into a magical energy, which could have turned the wonders of the world into powerful weapons—if she had ever had the chance to see them as a light girl. Unfortunately, most of the memories she created with her old light girl friends were lacking in potency, and these weapons lacked strength and luster as a result, breaking easily. The other magical girls made fun of her for it.
• The kind of girl to wax poetic while typing in ALL CAPS. Maybe this is why she doesn't have any friends?

The Hourglass Order

Judgment

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Shortly After Ransom Demand - The Ever Tree

It was blood money, and they both knew it.

But, much to Xiuyang's chagrin, she found her conscience advising her that it was Seviin's right to do with her share as she pleased. If she threw it into the ocean, so be it. If she threw it back in Xiuyang's face, did she really have a case to take offense?

She found herself standing in front of Seviin's door just at the tail end of sunset, agonizing over what to do. She knew she was inside, probably praying. If she just left the money here and didn't speak to her, what kind of message would that send? Then again, if she found herself getting loudly lectured and chastised by Seviin, Juulet was surely sleeping just one or two rooms over, and that could only end badly.

Indeed, she had no choice, she told herself. This was for the best. She would crack the door open just slightly, leave the pay, the ransom, and the other box on the floor, and sneak out with no fuss. If she wanted to give her an earful about it later, at least it wouldn't be here.

It was with this in mind, then, that she opened the door as slowly as could be done.

But Seviin was not, in fact, in her room. The Ever Tree had been grown in such a way that every dormitory opened up onto the branches and they acted as a sort of patio before graduating off into a series of perches, ladders, and places to hang things. The Constantian yasoi always seemed to be more comfortable with it than the Tarlonese. Ashon was regularly out there when he was around instead of in his unofficial residence in Zarina's attic. During her visit, Juulet had often sat astride some branch or another, humming or carving something and swinging her singular foot back and forth.

Seviin felt herself ever less Tarlonese by the day, but she could feel Mother Oirase here: alive beside her in this space. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the many small platforms with her back turned and legs crossed, doing her evening meditations. She made no sound, not above the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the leaves, and the tinkling of a dozen chimes, and Xiuyang surely should've passed unnoticed.

Then, with a striking suddenness, the priestess raised a hand, all five fingers pointing straight upwards. These she flicked in a universal "come at me" gesture.

Well. Alright, then, Xiuyang thought, both bemused and somewhat resigned. She didn't know what to make of Seviin's intentions, but she was pretty sure this was going to end in a lecture. Would there be some even greater sin she had to repent for? Some grand display of penance she would want to see? Then again, she was pretty sure she wanted her to kill Dorothea for a moment back there. What did she know about Seviin, really?

She shrugged, following the gesture and entrusting herself to the branches, cradling the stack of boxes in her arm. Her feet were steady, but there was tension in her body. She hadn't returned to the Ever Tree since the day Juulet had hunted her like a dog, and her confidence wasn't what it once was. For now, she simply accepted that she was going to join Seviin on this platform, place the boxes between the two of them, and await whatever this was going to be.

All at once, Seviin lay back. It was so quick that it seemed almost odd that she hadn't conked her head. She spread her arms out and her long white hair spilled past the edge of the platform, dangling below like a wispy, gently swaying ghost. She patted a second platform beside her. "The stars are coming out," she said. "Maybe we can watch them together if you're not busy?" She turned her head where she lay and smiled up at Xiuyang.

Xiuyang jolted slightly, as if some small part of her expected Seviin to... what—knock her off the tree? But she maintained her balance, and then there was that slightly supportive smile once again. The smile went unreturned. Xiuyang's eyes seemed confused as she set the boxes down as she had planned from the start.

"I'm always busy," she replied. Despite her words, however, she let her hair down, removed her hat, and took the spot next to Seviin, laying her hat where her head would rest. Her short black hair had become long, and it settled around the inside of the hat like a bowl of noodles. She looked up at the sky, silent as she had entered.

A little bit of time passed in silence.

"I judge you, Xiuyang," Seviin said softly from the burgeoning darkness, "as I judge myself. As I judge everyone." She took a deep breath and watched a moth settle upon the glass of a nearby lantern. There was no hot flame, however, and it was not burned. "That doesn't mean I dislike you." She snorted. "Or very necessary funds." She puffed her cheeks out in something like relaxed frustration. "I've been learning to be a little less rigid and I'm not sure I like it."

"I've tried being a bit more rigid, myself. In my training, in my studies, in my manners. It doesn't suit me. It's exhausting. How did you survive until now?" Xiuyang replied, a bit of tension released with every word. Slowly but surely, her posture morphed into something more relaxed and comfortable. She rested her head on her hands as she tried to spot new stars as they appeared.

Silence hung for a while again, until the question on her mind had to come out. "...Did you really mean the things you said to Mother Gracie? ...About me." The one eye that Seviin could see might have flicked her way for just a moment, or it might have been a trick of the light.

"People know about Tarlon only what our people want them to know, Seviin replied, her voice quiet and pensive. "We are imbued with purpose from the moment we are born, for nobody can afford to be unproductive, or so they tell us."

She shifted, bringing her long, pale arms around behind her head and turning back to face the darkening sky. "I don't know if it's true anymore, but it... animates us. It brings us together. One society, united in purpose, under the gods," she snorted, but perhaps it was not all bitter irony. "Jaadas, juuras, tan'daxii." Perhaps she believed some of it. "But their purpose is killing people." She turned to Xiuyang and a tear slipped free of the corner of her eye. "I miss my home, Xiuyang. I miss my routines: they kept me going. I miss the unshakable strength of my faith, and I will not lose it." She seemed to draw strength just from those words alone. "I never say anything that I don't mean." She managed a tight smile, her single tear drying as she looked Xiuyang's way.

"I know that feeling," Xiuyang sighed in reply to her comment about being given purpose from birth. She'd had her suspicions that Seviin struggled with her country's actions, and now she had those confirmed. In truth, she found some part of Seviin's faith admirable, but she just couldn't muster enough to match it.

At Seviin's reply, Xiuyang tilted her head slightly toward her. If there had been any evidence of her skepticism before, it was gone now. If she'd stopped herself from crying the first time, she couldn't bear it anymore. She turned away, and if she let out a sound, it was so soft that it could have been the wind. She rested the back of one of her hands on her forehead, her teeth grit in frustration at her inability to hide her feelings.

"You have no idea..." She abandoned the thought before finishing it. "Everyone judges me, Seviin. They take one look and they judge me, and I let it happen because it's easier if they all expect nothing. But you—" She choked up. "You were right—about all of it. I'm always... doing my best..!" If there were more words, she couldn't produce them. She simply wept.

A hand reached out in the gathering darkness and its fingers found Xiuyang's. "If you truly wish to do good and make an effort, then I believe that you are good and that you will be loved for it." The yasoi's fingers closed around hers. "You can speak to me," she offered, "and I will listen... suunei."

"That's... all I want!" she choked out. "I just want them to appreciate my efforts, but it's never enough! Not for my father, not for the yasoi, not for the gods... not for me." Her voice trembled, as did she. "Only Ciro understands me... and you." She smiled lukewarmly. "...I want to help them, Seviin. I really do, but I... I don't know if I can. I just..." Her lip quivered. "I hate them. I hate their eyes—every time I look into an addict's eyes, I'm reminded of Juulet and Yarsoc. I'm reminded of—of what they would have done if they caught me. If I didn't run away... if I didn't..."

She squeezed Seviin's hand and forced out a breath. "I killed them. We—I killed all of them, Seviin. I didn't want to! I did nothing but try to help, but Juulet..." She stopped short of blaming her. "It's not fair," Xiuyang cried. "I don't deserve this! I can't talk to anyone about it. I don't know how to heal. I don't know what to do!" She sobbed. "Is this what I deserve?" She second guessed herself. "For breaking my oath..? Was it a test? Am I a failure? What else could I have done..? I don't..." She went silent as words failed to meet her lips.

Seviin's response was simple in the way that her speech often was. "If you struck first and did not have to, then I do believe that this is your penance." She swallowed. "If you did not, then it is your sense of guilt because you are a good person who did something you regret."

"Juulet is a bad person," she continued. "The world has made her that way and the only cure for it is likely her death." Seviin sat up abruptly, and brought her legs in crossed. The last hints of light lingered on the horizon and a mosquito hovered over the back of one of the yasoi's hands. Idly, she watched it land and allowed it to drink.

"I don't know!" Xiuyang agonized. "I can't know if my actions were necessary! All I can know is that pissing off Juulet set these events in motion." No matter how many times she ran what pieces she could recall through her mind, again and again she came up short. "I didn't try running. I knew he'd catch me." Silently, she cursed herself for being too weak to stop Juulet. If she could have just finished her off by the side of that lake, the rest of them would not have died, and she wouldn't be asking these questions. She'd have been free. ...Then, there was a spark. An idea occurred to her. "...Let's say... there was a timewalker who could see only the next ten seconds. Is it wrong if she strikes first, knowing the outcome to a near certainty if she doesn't?" Xiuyang composed herself, slowly, still not meeting Seviin's eyes as she rose.

She did, however, catch what she was doing. "Seviin, you have a... Those things spread plague, you know," she insisted, though not too strongly, perhaps because she was relatively detached from such a concern. If she showed interest in what she said about Juulet, she was leaving it on the back burner, much more interested in her hypothetical "barely a timewalker" question. In fact, it was the kind of question that seemed barely hypothetical. Xiuyang still hadn't told Seviin what happened, not directly at least. It seemed she hadn't told anyone.

Perhaps Seviin had pointedly ignored Xiuyang's main supposition; perhaps she was simply giving herself more time to think. "And we have Binding and Chemical magics." she shrugged. "Mother Oirase made it to do something and she makes nothing that is unnecessary." For some moments, the silence lingered, and the insect lifted off and flew away, its simple brain likely uncomprehending of its good fortune.

"I believe that you huusoi call that timeracer or perhaps foresight." Seviin furrowed her brow in momentary thought. "One has a right to defend oneself, but there are almost always ways other than dealing death, especially if one can see the future, no?"

"We have magics, but we're exceptional," Xiuyang reminded her reflexively. Then, she seemed to settle into giving it some more thought—and the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to unsettle her. There was, on one side of her heart, her oath, what she said, and what she believed that she believed: that killing was wrong. Then, on the other, there were her instincts, what she did in the heat of the moment, that showed her what she actually believed, deep in her unconscious: that those who harm and exploit others forfeited mercy. Consumed by her desire for justice for a crime not yet committed, she didn't even think about putting the man to sleep or using illusions to escape.

There was, on one side of the coin, the woman Xiuyang thought she was. Then there was the side of herself that had to be shown to her—and just as she supposed Seviin would if she knew, she wanted to hate it, but wasn't sure if she could. Did not all sapient beings know, instinctively, deep within their souls what was right and just and fair? Yet did not the wicked ignore the plea of their own soul for self-gain, to their own condemnation?

There were practiced killers on both sides of Xiuyang's family line. Was she doomed to become like them? But if Oirase made nothing unnecessary, was there a place in the world for people like that to be used for good? Yet if that were true, then there was also a place in the world for the yasoi that were killed in Yarsoc that day, and for the Cola family. Even if killing them had not been criminal, treating them like inhuman garbage surely was.

"Ten seconds," Xiuyang scoffed. "Is it too much power, or not enough?"

She went quiet for a moment, but it still seemed like she had more to say, so it passed in silence. "I don't consider it a trifling thing to owe a debt to the gods. I almost never pray, and when I pray, I pray for others, never for myself. The first time I did pray for myself, I prayed to Exiran. Before that, I'd hardly acknowledged Exiran's existence at all, but I asked if he would stay Juulet's hand, and he answered me right away. That's how... I know the gods are kind, Seviin. I just... it was hard not to feel abandoned in that place, and it's hard to feel worthy to ask for anything after what I've done. ...Would you pray for me, instead?"

Seviin sat there as crickets chirped and flies swirled about the tiny suns and moons of the hanging lanterns. She breathed, unblinking. "I pray for all," she replied. She nodded slowly. "But most especially for those who ask for it in earnest." She smiled softly and, in one smooth, limber motion, rose to her feet.

---

The Power to Become

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---

Suddenly, Xiuyang felt the familiar embrace of an unwelcome presence.

"How pitiful. After all this time, you're still lying to yourself and everyone else."

Xiuyang waved a hand in front of Seviin's half-smiling face. It was as if time had stopped. Even in the context of the worst of her nightmares, this was a new experience. "What part of that was a lie? Besides, who invited you? This is a precious memory of mine. You should stay out of it!" she demanded of the disembodied voice.

Xiuyang felt the gravity of her presence before she saw her: a short, young girl with matted hair that was either a dark red or bloodied, Xiuyang couldn't tell. Most strikingly, the girl had no face. "Huh. That's a fitting look for the voice of my self-loathing."

"For a broken vessel, you sure are cheeky. To call this your 'precious memory...' You'll forget all of this when it becomes an inconvenient moral burden for you to bear later on—and, for a Quentic to not pray, even a heretic like yourself... How useless can you be? Just pray for Sipenta's future... Oh, but you can't. A future without war and death is a future where the Solari are no longer needed. Isn't that so?"

Unsettling as it was, Xiuyang glared determinedly at the blank face. "I can't dispute that my family profits from war. Even if I pursue medicine, that's still true."

"Right. So long as there's violence in this world, a Solari will have a place in it. But if conditions improve, there's no place for someone like you in Sipenta. A useless politician married to a plantation owner... an arms dealer married to a useless politician... and you, you'll marry a banker? For someone who's spent their whole life defining themselves by what they're not, you sure are turning out just like a Solari."

Unable to meet the girl's imperceptible gaze any longer, Xiuyang looked away. "It's who I am. I am a Solari... I can't outrun the passage of time, as Maria so often reminds us."

"So you do get it. Why fight it? Why rationalize? Watching you do that is exhausting. Just play out your role as a villain. It'll be fun. Who knows, maybe you'll even win. With Ciro at your side, you could mold this world to suit your own tastes. With Solari connections and Volta money, you two would be unstoppable. The puppet masters..."

Xiuyang scoffed and shook her head. "It wouldn't be like that. We'll do great things. We'll probably change the world, but molding it? I don't want that kind of power."

"So, walk me through this: you reject the role of villain, and accept that you don't have the power to take on the role of a hero. You had the chance to become a martyr, but instead, you killed a bunch of yasoi, which you regret."

Xiuyang looked down. "...I do. I don't blame myself anymore, but I wish I'd never... No. I'm glad I got the chance to meet Tyrel. I just wish I'd been strong enough to defeat Juulet."

"Right. So there are no more roles for you to play. You're just set dressing—a useless person, like your sister Desi. At least Maria gets things done. She's accepted the role of villain. She wears it well."

Xiuyang scowled. "She's not 'useless.' There are more roles than just heroes, villains, and martyrs. Everyone serves a purpose. Maybe you're just a terrible storyteller. Ever consider that angle?"

"I don't really care how your story plays out, so long as my purposes are fulfilled in the end."

"The ends justify the means, huh? History is littered with villains like that. Seems like I'm more qualified to be a hero than you." Xiuyang took a step towards the girl.

The girl stepped forward, too. "What will you do, then? Will you stand in my way as a hero, or as a villain?"

"I don't really care what 'role' I play, so long as things end well for me and mine." Xiuyang turned away and proceeded down the branch.

The girl followed, sliding across the ground like a shadow. "For someone with little to no sense of self to speak of, that's a pretty self-absorbed thing to say."

"Is it? I remember reading somewhere once... 'He who does not provide for his brothers, yea, especially of his own blood, his faith is of no consequence, and he is worse than an infidel.' Charity starts at home... that's not evil."

"Your 'family' are a bunch of criminals married to tyrants. They don't need the help. The greatest danger they face is betraying each other." Xiuyang was cornered, now.

"Maybe, but I have friends who need 'me.' Not some 'role' that I play. Rather... I'm a Solari. I can play any 'role' I want. I have the power to become anyone, and I'll become whoever Sipenta needs me to be, any time Sipenta needs me." With that, Xiuyang stepped off the Ever Tree.

But the shadow would not let Xiuyang escape. She floated down along with her. Time slowed, and the fall seemed to last an eternity. "You say you have 'the power to become whoever Sipenta needs?' Yet, you've used it as 'the power to cast off any role or burden which inconveniences me.' First, you were an Oraff loyalist who swore never to kill. Now, you're flirting with the idea of serving Eshiran, bringing anyone who threatens the future of your country and family to whatever kind of ruin is most expedient. It's not some 'god' you serve, but your own whims. You cannot have self-determination without a determined 'self.' One day, after you've tried on and cast off every mantle and creed, you'll reach the end of your life, this chapter of Sipenta's history will have ended, and there will be no more roles for you. What you'll find is that you have not become 'whoever Sipenta needed,' but 'nobody.' You'll lose whatever 'self' you had and be forgotten to history as a nameless and craven Scoundrel."

Some time passed. Then, finally, like a revelation, the ground met Xiuyang's feet. "...You know... I've been trying to justify my own existence by thinking of ways to leave some 'legacy,' but that's not right. If a Solari like me goes all out, always trying to do the most good using all of my power... it's only natural that a Facemimic won't leave a legacy. History will forget my existence... or at best, remember me as a collection of 'unidentified persons.' So... 'Nobody' will be my role. So long as the gods remember me and my deeds, I'll accept it." Xiuyang gazed up at the starry sky, laid out exactly as she remembered it.

"You're saying you accept it? You're just going to give up on leaving a legacy?"

The stars reflected in Xiuyang's eyes. "It's not as if I'll be totally forgotten. Just as my ancestors passed down their stories of life in ReTan... If I live long enough, my children will remember what I did. My friends and their children will know it, too. Though they'll just be 'stories,' and not 'history...' my grandmother's 'stories' are, in a very real sense, the 'true history' of ReTan, unadulterated by politically convenient half-truths. Even if a day comes when those stories are no longer told, that matters more than a name in some cobbled-together 'history book.' It's overrated. ...It's funny... I idolized the idea because I spent so much time reading history—but now that history is happening now, it doesn't seem so important anymore."

"I can't follow that train of thought at all. Then again, you'll eventually change your mind and give up on this, too."

"Maybe I'll just become someone who's 'determined' like you said. What I do know is that I'll never cast off my friends. I'm thankful for all of them. None of them are burdens, or 'unnecessary...' right?" Xiuyang looked back up towards the Ever Tree. She thought of Seviin, who taught her this lesson, and of Ashon, who embodied it.

"Your words can't reach them here."

"I'd like to think that they did, somehow or other."

"That's just your incomprehensible fantasy."

"Huh. A devil that doesn't believe in miracles. Is that fitting, or ironic?"

The girl watched as Xiuyang faded away, escaping the nightmare.

"...I suppose 'Nobody' is a fitting role for a broken vessel. But, what will you do? You have friends on every side of this conflict. You think you can end it without losing most of them? When you do, you'll come crawling back with another lame excuse, I'm sure. Your 'Gift' is strong, but your 'heart' is weak. You think you can escape this nightmare you created? Just try it. You'll be back."

The nightmare flickered and fizzled out. Then, it was erased, and forgotten by Xiuyang.

But, though it was erased, it remained, like a faded stain.

---

Esparza Estate - Torragon

Home... Xiuyang blinked her eyes awake, then cast them about the familiar scenery. Familiar, and yet, how surreal it all was. Only the finest luxuries for a daughter of Esparza and Solari. Ciro had reacquainted her with a taste for such things. So why, here, did she not care for it? Why did it all feel so fake? Because when Ciro spoils me, it feels deserved. He appreciates me. We work together to earn those moments. Her own thoughts answered her. She couldn't help but be surprised at the positivity of the first thought that came to mind—like some kind of poison had left her body. And it's not alcohol for once. What did I dream about? I do feel like Seviin was there... It's like I had the best sleep of my life.

A gentle knock came at the door. Nary a moment's peace... "Wait in the drawing room," she replied. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she set about applying her makeup. It had become somewhat of a routine. Some days saw more effort than others. Doing it here brought back some memories, much of which were unpleasant. She scowled into the mirror. Then, she pouted. Then, she smiled. The smile felt a bit less fake. She leaned back from the mirror, and found that what she saw didn't look so bad. Then, she took a small step back. Then, another step back. The scars are almost invisible from here. I could have gone thicker with the makeup, too. Is this how everyone sees me? I never realized... On a whim, she blew a kiss at herself in the mirror. Immediately, she was embarrassed. Ugh! I'm feeling all mushy. It's like I've found a whole new way to be disgusted with myself. Lucky me.

Hastily, she gathered her lost marbles and walked back to the bedroom door. There, she paused, in front of the emblem of her family: a falcon with a snake in its talons—a hypocritical symbol if ever there was one. My goals haven't changed. The nature of a Solari's work and methods haven't changed. The only thing that's changed is how I think of it. Rather than 'being forgotten as nobody,' I have 'the power to become nobody.' One label is 'deserved,' while the other is 'earned.' If I worked hard to achieve it, I can be satisfied with it, even if it's not a 'legacy.' My achievements are mine—even if I wear the faces of others, no one can take them from me.

...

Don't you see, father? The answer was right in front of you. You wanted to change the status quo... It wasn't your ideals that held you back, but your obsession with being recognized for it. That is where you failed... and it's why I will be better than you. Just watch me...

---

Xiuyang took a seat across from her Torragonese contact. "What is it?"

The man retrieved a binder full of documents and placed it on the table. "Paydirt," he replied simply.

He had no knowledge of the deeper meaning behind the word.

"Well done. I'll attend to these at once. Continue your work."

The Hourglass Order

Paydirt

There were a few places where Belleville was still called Mudville—places that were truly nightless, that resisted the movement to turn the at once famous and infamous getaway for mischievous students of Ersand'Enise into a respectable and boring place. At times, these places still stood as illuminant bastions of liquor and laughter well into the night.

This was not one of those places, and not one of those times.

Hider

Though no one saw them, they came in force, causing rats to scatter like roaches exposed to sunlight. Though no one heard them, boots descended upon the streets of Belleville with the eerie silence of owls. El Maestro and two Torragonese guns for hire marched through the back alleys of the northern coast of Mudville like they owned them. Their target: an ordinary and disused-looking warehouse, not unlike the one that had been destroyed not so very long ago. They approached their stationary prey with the ease of a spider, weaving a path through the streets that took them from stone to patch of cobblestone, disturbing neither puddle nor pebble. Such was the art of these assassins, who carried on their backs weapons far deadlier than a scorpion's venom.

Quiet as a whisper, and invisible to drunken, untrained and unwelcome eyes around them, they observed two Revidian guards at the door, and twice that number in the surrounding alleys, appearing as homeless street bums but acting as clandestine guards themselves. El Maestro knew their names and their routines—he had been here before many times. If they had seen or heard anything as he and his escort ascended nearby buildings to access the roofs, they had paid them as much mind as the rats in the rafters. Poor luck for the guards: the rats chewed through a board that had been used to bar a broken window. When swung to the side, it offered an entrance both hidden and tempting yet dangerous for a small intruder. After some tense negotiations between the broken glass and vital organs, El Maestro was in. His escorts would have to manage another way.

He scanned the familiar surroundings as he navigated the maze of shelves on the ground level, observing several changes to the warehouse's inventory. Most of these were the expected exchanges of supplies typical of the owner's regular operations. One missing object was an atypical change, but also one which El Maestro had been expecting. They were neither the first nor the only intruders here. Someone had come before. "Clean work, gentlemen." He congratulated them before he saw them. Sure enough, they revealed themselves in short order. One jumped down from the rafters just as El Maestro had done, while another rose through the floor. "It was too easy, boss," one replied. "The security here is rather lacking, wouldn't you agree?" The two "gentlemen" nodded. "We've allowed them to get comfortable in this job, and so they've become lazy," he judged. "Our prize has already been taken, to boot. I must confess, I've never had a job go quite like this. The least they could have done is entertain me just a little."

No sooner had he diagnosed the injury than he proceeded to pour salt into it, raising his pistol into the air and firing a shot.

Hider

His escort did not panic. They did not question his actions nor attempt to hide themselves as the Revidians poured in from outside and began to assume formation alongside those within. "Stop!! Identify yourselves!!" the senior guard shouted at the trio. El Maestro and his escort slowly turned to him, holding their position as more Revidians slowly trickled in. "Identify yourselves, now!!" echoed the captain of the warehouse's guard as he joined the ensemble. Only when the full number of their prey had arrived did El Maestro lower his hood. "You?! What are you doing here, Volta?!" he demanded of the young Revidian, prompting the intruding trio to exchange glances.

So, it's not Ciro who's betrayed me...

Hider

Paydirt

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---

"Good evening, gentlemen. I came to make a simple withdrawal... only, it seems that what I desire is not here. Now, why would that be..?" "Ciro" inquired with a winsome smile.

"What?! Don't get ahead of yourself, kid. You're not a member of the Solari family," he growled.

"Hey, that stings. No need to bludgeon me with technicalities like that, alright? I'm sure she won't mind."

"Don't do anything rash. You're surrounded... come out peacefully. There's still a chance this won't end badly for you."

"...Is that right? You may want to look again, and consider just who exactly is surrounded."

Hider

With his squad's guns trained on the intruder, the captain glanced behind him. Suddenly, the door was barred by more Torragonese elites. Suddenly, he could see and recognize their faces. He'd been outmaneuvered from the start. Now, the ball was in their court. "Perhaps you haven't heard the news in your drunken stupor. I'll explain..." As the captain turned back, he found the barrel of the teen's pistol pointed directly at him. "An 'Impostor Xiuyang' was seen wielding the Sanguine Bayonet—the very same one which was stored at this warehouse... and at the same scene, multiple students of Ersand'Enise are now dead. Do you understand what this means..?"

The barrel of the captain's rifle shook. If his failures even slightly contributed to the possibility of a member of the Solari family to be under threat of investigation... he and his men were screwed, and he knew it. "On behalf of my love, who cannot be seen out at this time of night due to your miserable failure... you are all fired. Furthermore, on behalf of the Solari family, who are rather busy at the moment, you're under arrest." He watched the meaning of the words sink into their faces as he lifted the muzzle of his pistol away from them. "I want them all alive... but if they try to escape, don't hesitate to break them," he finalized, before turning his attention to the rows and rows of shelves.

And some did try to escape, for they knew the fate that awaited traitors of the Solari. A few quick gunshots rang out behind the disguised Xiuyang as she once again turned her attention to the warehouse shelves. Weaving her way through the aisles, she took quick inventory of her own belongings, doubly confirming the strange truth that the Sanguine Bayonet was the only thing of great value that was missing. Who would only steal one artifact? Was it a bribe..?

Watch who you trust, okay? Aside from me. Trust me!

Queen Hylaenii's words continued their haunting echo in Xiuyang's heart. While she had many people in her circle, she truthfully only trusted a few of them. Some of those people had the connections to find out where Solari-owned properties were—but, only the Solari themselves knew why this particular location happened to be important at this exact point in time. There was one more thing Xiuyang needed to check. Once she was confident that she wasn't being followed, she crawled to the other side of one particular shelf, and entered into an isolated spot that couldn't be accessed any other way, but was otherwise unremarkable. She lifted up the false bottom of a particular crate, shielding herself from the hidden gas trap... only to find that it had already been triggered. She began to grow nauseous. Leaping down into the hidden underground pit, she searched the shelf of rare and valuable books for the one they served as cover for.

A small, blue leather-bound book with a cavalier hat on the front—a book that, while antique, was very ordinary-looking, and had many others that looked exactly like it. It was a brand that had been popular in Torragon about 50 years ago, and many wealthy young ladies of a previous generation would have written all kinds of innocent secrets within, rendered invisible by a special, particular kind of paper that reacted to manas... but this was not her or her mother's diary, nor was it an innocent book. It was a temporary record that contained many secrets of the Solari, their companies, and their business partners. Bribes, blackmail, other illicit transactions... anything done recently which needed to be recorded, but had to stay off the bank records—a book so secret and dangerous in the wrong hands, that it could only be brought up in family conversation with a codename: Paydirt.

It was gone.

Xiuyang's heart raced. This was impossible. Only the Solari knew of this book's existence, and only she and her father knew its current location. She meticulously double-checked every book on the shelf to ensure that she wasn't going insane. There was no way... Who could know of it? Who could steal it? What did they plan to do with it? Realizing that her hidden grotto was now a crime scene, she began to look for evidence. With some difficulty, Xiuyang sensed around the area. The earth had not been moved recently... the gas trap had been activated. The intruder had accessed her hiding place from above. She began the long ladder climb back up, feeling around in the darkness for anything that could have been caught in the narrow tunnel. It was a long and agonizing minute before her manas began to react to something she'd caught with her hand: a hair she didn't recognize. It's long... red... Trypano? She explored the structure of it—something which she could only do intuitively with her Facemimic manas, but could not begin to fully comprehend: Oraff's holy instructions. No... this person is too short to be Trypano. Besides, she's too straight-laced for this kind of work... Maura? She'd have the motive... Ayla, I'd hate to imagine it... No. This person is neither Torragonese nor Revidian. Revidian is closer... but not quite Perrench, either... Damn! If it was compatible with me, I wouldn't have to guess! I could just look in the mirror...

It left Xiuyang with more questions than answers—questions which would torment her. Any female of mixed blood, with red hair and a RAS of 7 or above. Does that really narrow it down..? It does rule out pure-blooded nobility, but they have lackeys for this kind of work. It'd be easier for me if the culprit was acting alone... Exiting the mass of shelves, she addressed one of her escorts, still disguised as Ciro. "Something important is missing, after all. An old diary," she began. "What shall we do?" one replied. Xiuyang handed him a piece of paper. "Check every antique and pawn shop for a book of this description. Ask them if anyone has shown any interest in buying such a thing..." The man took the paper and nodded. Xiuyang waited for him to leave, then turned to the other man. "Put out some feelers in our usual disinformation channels. Quietly suggest that some dirt on the Solari family is for sale. Take note of any interested parties. Let them run around looking for the seller. Take note of who they suspect..." The man silently nodded, and faded away.

Watch who you trust, okay?

I want to trust Ciro... but I can't just dismiss the fact that he seems to know everything about me without telling him. Just like the Twin Emperors... unlike the others, he wasn't shocked to learn about Facemimic. I should have expected that... my little "pranks" didn't surprise him at all. And, why did he seem unhappy with Maria? Her mind continued to race. Tears wanted to fall, but she wouldn't let them. Damn it, Hylaenii! Why did you have to go and say something like that?!

Ciro was just like her father, she realized. It was easier to keep tabs on the goings-on of Belzagg than her own lover's personal business. On some level, she accepted it, but on another, she resented the fact that it only seemed to go one way. ...I need to focus on what I can control. If I'm to become a Tan-Zeno, it shouldn't be impossible to obtain some basic personnel records. The hair could have ended up there by chance... but if it was on me, it shouldn't be a stranger's hair. Why don't I recognize it..? Exhausted, she massaged the temples which were not hers, with fingers that were not hers. I'm running out of time. Tomorrow... she told herself, as legs that were not hers took her back to her dorm building.

Ipte, I'm tired...

Tired of never having the strength to trust or believe in anyone.

Myself least of all...

The Hourglass Order

Queen of Diamonds: Liset's Interrogation

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???

Liset could not have known how long she waited in that dimly lit basement of the book store, separated from her comrades. One of the queen's escort had been tasked with questioning her—the man who had tried to save her leg—but he had gone away to convene with another "friend" of the queen. Perhaps he intended to foist the dirty job of an interrogation onto someone else? Unfortunate for her, but an understandable choice for a man with such obvious kindness in his heart and bearing.

If she had tried to sense what was outside, to get a feel for who this unknown person was, she had found that her senses failed her. Everything beyond the top of that stairway—which itself seemed an insurmountable thing, now—was pure emptiness. Light came from there, and yet there was naught, until footsteps echoed from above. A small figure,definitely a huusoi, descended, until Liset's eyes could meet hers. What she found instead were the eye slits of a mask bearing the face of a fox. A small ReTanese numeral "6" was etched high up on the cheek, just below the left eye.

The mask may have been different, but her body shape and signature robes were a dead giveaway. So, the skull-masked mercenary who slaughtered the Colas was also the "Six-Tailed Fox," leader of a huusoi gang who played at being a charity organization—or a charity organization who played at being a gang, for it was impossible to see truth beneath their veil of absurdity. She was supposed to be supporting the yasoi refugees in secret, and yet she delivered death to the front door of some of the strongest yasoi in Mudville.

She sat in a chair opposite Liset and made the sign of Dami in her lap. As she did, the table between them suddenly began to make a cacophony of sick crunching noises as it folded in on itself and was crushed to splinters. "We don't need a table." At those words, the remains of the table appeared to catch fire. They were indoors, and such a thing was reckless—the only question that could have possibly been on Liset's mind was "why?!" ...It was an illusion. Nothing was consumed, and there was no smoke, but the heat and light were very real. "There's nothing to put on the table—this is not a negotiation. You did what you did, and the only thing you can offer me now is the answer to that question." She let her words linger in the air for a moment. "Why?"

"Listen," she fearfully smiled, "I swear I didn't know that the lady was the Queen." She had been resting her hands on the table, which now lie on her thighs.

"Pleading stupidity is not a great start," the woman replied. "I don't think you appreciate just how much work goes into convincing the local huusoi that you yasoi are more than just a festering nuisance." She crossed both her arms and legs as her voice turned irritable. "I had to rise above my peers—many of which are both my social and magical betters—to get close to the queen and convince her that the yasoi have allies in this town, however few they may be—and in one day, your actions could have jeopardized years of my life's work, and I can't help but find the timing rather convenient for my enemies. If you're saying someone saw you as a useful idiot, I want to know who they are, what they told you to do, what they promised you in return, and where they've gone. You should want me to know that too, if you have any pride."

"And my family had to eat!" her voice rosed but she quieted down, rubbing her head as the situation laid increasingly heavy on her. It was ever obvious to her that this yanii thought of her people.

"We were asked to kill some fancy looking Suunei," she admitted. "An Oiyan grabbed us saying he had an opportunity to make some cash. He never said queen, not once."

"Please, you got to know that I would have never taken this job knowing it was a royal," Liset pleaded.

If any part of the woman's body had been fidgeting impatiently as Liset spoke, there was now a sudden stillness. If there had seemed to be threats of violence in her body language before, they were lowered."An Oiyan, you say. How sure are you of that? How long ago did you meet him prior to the attack? What was his offer? Did he pay up front? Where is he now?" The woman continued to press for details, either ignoring the pleas or setting them aside for the time being—it was impossible to tell—but the Fox seemed to think she was getting somewhere, and her voice turned more calm and purposeful.

"He sounded Oiyan and we met a few days ago. Suurtor came into the place with an offer to make some cash, he paid a good chunk of Magus upfront and helped organize this. He was here with us but I guess he got away if you don't have him."

"He risked his own neck on this operation, too? Were there any outside contacts? Who tracked your target? What did he tell you, if not who she was?"

"He led us here and rubbed that plushtail stuff on the scrolls. and I'm telling you, Suurtor didn't say anything about the target. I just assumed they were some Oiyan defector with info." she claimed.

The Fox sat in silence for a moment, contemplating. It would have been impossible for whoever was tracking the queen not to know, with how they fill her ears with 'Majesty, Majesty.' But if he's the one who did all the heavy lifting... it's really possible that she just didn't know.

"He, at least, knew who his target was. You don't waste good plushtail on small fry. Bold of him to think he could try something so brazen with so many eyes on the queen. Did he seem competent to you? Or desperate? Perhaps just pressed for time?"

She paused as she tried to recollect some memories of her limited time with him. "I don't know, maybe? He had an air like he knew what he was doing. Like a bunch of coded words and shit. Nothing explicit."

The Fox waited, perhaps hoping she might elaborate. Then, however, she rose, and the heat from the flames seemed to move. "Well, I have enough for a report," she replied, sounding dissatisfied somehow.

The next few moments were a blur. Everything dissolved away, like fading into a dream, and Liset now found herself in a log cabin. The fire had moved, back into its place. The Fox was gone, and instead there was the man who tried to save her leg: Tku.

---

"Her story is consistent with the others—almost completely—but not perfect, like it would be if they'd all rehearsed their story together in advance. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but what you see is what you get: they're not professionals, and I doubt they know much more than what they've told us. She gave me the most info, so I left her simmering on the idea that she didn't quite tell us enough. Maybe you can get more out of her, Tku, but I need to start working on a report now. This is terribly urgent."

Tku gave a nod, "I'll do my best, thank you for coming quickly, by the way." Tku patted Xuiyang's shoulder before heading in.

---

As he entered the room he gave a weary smile to Liset, "Would you like to sit near the fireplace? It's much warmer there," he went to take a seat himself.

Liset blinked, unable to process what just happened. She nodded, and nearly rose to her feet before remembering she only had the one. Her face scrunched up, like she could cry. "What is this place? What's going to happen to me—to my family? That woman... I thought she'd take my other leg." She sniffled.

Tku took some leftover material and formed it into a crutch for her. "We are in pocket dimension created via dark magic. I'm not sure that helped explain things but that is what it is. Sense as far as you can to your left and you should be able to sense a the chest of a woman."

He summoned some fresh fruit and water for himself and left the pitcher for her to pour for herself. "As for what is going to happen to you I'm afraid nothing good Liset," he grimaced. "Your family should be left alone but some of the queen's entourage are furious."

When she stated that the fox had made her feel as if she was going to be maimed once more, "I would not have allowed it, I am here to find the truth. Not to bring you harm. So can you go over with me what you know. Withholding things only makes those who wish to punish you more justification."

"A... a what?" Liset stammered as she tried to use the crutch. It was impossible, though. Was it even two hours ago? Frustrated, she sat back down and used her one good leg to scrape her chair across the floor until she was closer to the fireplace. Now, she did cry. "Curse him. Curse the day I met him." She buried her face in her hands.

Given a moment, she went over her story yet again. "Suurtor organized everything. He led us around and told us what to do. We just had to do what we were told, and we'd get the rest of the money. I needed it. After the Colas... there was nothing. He didn't say anything about it being the queen, or that Ersand'Enisers would be there. The money was good, but it just wasn't enough for a job like that! He didn't tell us shit!" she cried.

Tku patted her on the back, "I know you are going through a lot but I ask you stay with me on this." he offered her a handkerchief. "I understand that and I syplathize with your struggles. But sadly, the best way for you to make it out of here to your family is to give whatever information you can. Even the smallest thing. You are sure he was Oiyan and that he was a militant?"

"I... I don't know..." she whimpered, wiping her tears. "Sometimes, his accent was hard to place. He seemed like military, but not quite. He didn't have a stick up his ass, you know? It's why we trusted him, even when things seemed strange."

Tku grasped onto that accent issue, "You think that a military man of Oiyac would have a very thick accent..." He offered her some food, "Eat, whether you are happy or sad, you still need to eat. I promise of Oraff it is just some grapes," Tku popped one in his mouth.

Whether she takes some grapes or not, Tku says, "Trusting someone is a always a risk. Sometimes you get it right and a relationship blooms. Sometimes you get it wrong and you get pushed down for it. Him taking your trust and using it is not on you Liset, How you act afterwards is. You have no allegiance to him. Can you tell me more about the 'strange' things."

Liset took a grape with some reluctance. "I told you, what was strange was how he wouldn't tell us anything. Just wanted us to do what we were told. He didn't give us that pretentious feeling you get when dealing with the Tarlonese—most of the time. He did get angry once, but we wanted to believe he was different. The Tarlonese would have kept things in-house, but there were no other Oiyans with us, just him and us locals. He seemed to know his way around this sort of work, but... the orders he gave us were weird, changing all the time. You know... he was kind of a pain in the ass!" she decided, indignant. "At least if it were Tarlon, it would have been clear what we were supposed to do from the beginning, none of this running in circles. They would have offered more money, too. Not that I'd have taken it if they told me who our target was, but still!"

"So a laid back Oiyan with military experience paid a bunch of locals to try and assasinate a yasoi woman. His accent was off, the orders were odd and most of all he didn't hire any other Oiyans?" Tku raised an eyebrow.

"Seems rather suspicious considering how nationlist the Oiyans are." Tku commented.

"He wasn't stupid, but sometimes it seemed like he was making it up as he went along," she replied. "He was probably a lone actor. Nothing makes sense otherwise."

"So you are unsure if they are actually connected to the Oiyans?"

Liset fidgeted. "I can't be sure either way. I've told you everything, okay?" She busied herself with the food, as anyone who couldn't be sure when their next meal would be would do. Perhaps it was unfair to expect her to decide who was ultimately to blame. Decisions that could change the course of history were nothing less than the burden of the crown, after all.

"Liset," Tku said in a solemn tone, "You know as well as I that your situation is rather poor." A silence took him. "I will do my best to prove you were unaware but your fate is in the hand of the Mycormish. As for your family, I will do my best to shield them from whatever ire they may gain from this."

---

This concludes my report. Based on the information available to me, I can only presume that our enemies have tried to set you up. It appears the most logical conclusion. The timing is most convenient, though the operation was characterized as rather impromptu. They did not expect us students, leading me to believe that their intel may have been outdated. The leader of the attack did not seem to have much support. Perhaps the Oiyans have a traitor in their midst who works with Tarlon, or supposed that he did but was thrown before the carriage so to speak. But I trust this information is of more utility to you than to me, and should your conclusions differ from mine, they would prove to be the wiser between us.

Mother Oirase bless and keep you. —六

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Hello there, I assume my report will be mostly unused as Misses Solari's is undoubtedly more detailed and thorough. That being said, I do have some things I would like to bring up.

The one who gave the most information was Liset, the one who was maimed. Her story corroborates with the other fellow assailants but she gives some more information that brings something into question. She lists several oddities about the Suurtor. From his manner of speaking to some pretentiousness, he showed from time to time. At first, I believed it was a Tarlonese agent acting as an Oiyan rather adeptly except for a few moments. Enough to give Liset a feeling of something off.

I have another idea as well, though I wouldn't lend much credence to it. Suurtor seemed to know where we would be which is rather odd considering there was a tethered keeping watch and our itinerary was purposefully without direction. The ones within range of us who knew we were leaving for the bookstore were the queen’s replacement, the guards, and the 2 shop keeps. This proves little and this may have formed from the stress I have suffered but I believe that an internal investigation of people within the Queen's immediate and secondary circle. These are just the thoughts of a common man but I would be remiss to not say anything.

May Dahmy lend you judgement.