Force and Fury

The Hourglass Order

---

---

The people of the village of Porto dell'Alba - at least those who were not currently at sea - looked out of their homes one warm dordian morning to witness something unexpected: there was a girl, running down the single dirt road that passed through one end of their tiny settlement and out the other. A couple made comments and went back to their routines, for people are nothing if not beholden to their norms.

Had they looked closer, they might've noticed that she was not human, like every single one of them, but eeaiko. Her long dark hair, half-gathered in a ponytail, bounced and flicked behind her as she ran in that slightly awkward way that her people did. Perhaps, they might've wondered why she was in such a hurry and where she might've been going but, if they did, they said nothing and merely remarked on the queerness of it.

Kaureerah wasn't sure why she had decided to run today. She brought with her no lute. She left no message for her friends. The bare earth fell away from her feet in the language of footsteps. The clean, crisp air filled her lungs. The sun warmed her skin and sweat beaded on her forehead She ran past the little fishing village until she came to a low promontory that she had been to a handful of times before. There, she stopped, chest heaving, hair pasted in wet bands to the sides of her face and back of her neck. There she stopped: one small woman away from the sight of all but the gods. In the grassy field around her, butterflies flickered from flower to flower, fragile and beautiful amid the shifting sea of green. In the vast sky above, puffy white clouds drifted languidly in the breeze, impossibly huge and yet gentle amid the serene blue. In the churning sea at her feet, waves rose and crashed upon the rocks, cool and refreshing and welcoming her into their cerulean world.

The people of Porto dell'Alba did not see the girl dive into the water. She swam and darted and caught the fish with her bare hands as she had done in her distant home: a place that she hated, a place that she missed. Soon, she would return to her new home, and she reflected that it was so very different from the original but, in some ways, just the same. She didn't have to go back yet.

The Hourglass Order

---

---

Jocasta looked out of sorts. Rikard could sense it and it wasn't because he spent an awful lot of time looking at her. Presently, he averted his eyes and focused on his work. They were just so big and perfectly shaped and her pretty voice and smile and tiny little waist... His cheeks flushed with shame. It wasn't all about how she looked. She was smart, and didn't talk to people condescendingly. She always had some witty commentary or way to make class interesting. She was strong, too: really strong, and she knew her stuff. You're good people, Zeno Re, he told himself, Not just a pretty face. Presently, she reached up to scrawl something in chalk on the board - a basic equation for time pressure that he already knew - and her dress stretched extra tight around her chest. His eyes couldn't help it, but he reminded himself that he respected her. That she was a cool person and a good thaumaturge. If he just wanted to steal glances like a pervert, there was Trypano, and Esmii, and kind of Marci. Well, the first two, anyhow. The third was... more of a friend, though she'd sort of just disappeared lately.

Still, he stuck by his initial observation and it distracted him, even as Jocasta rolled between rows of desks with a smile and an encouraging voice that only slipped into ironic tones when she was dealing with some of the dumber students. She hadn't cracked a single joke. There was no 'bounce' to her 'step'. He'd noticed a habit that she had when she was happy or excited: every third push of her wheels, she'd push herself up a little as well. "Daydreaming again, Rikster." Suddenly, she wasn't where he'd perceived her to be; she was right beside him, leaning over and resting her chin on a hand and her elbow on his desk. "Benny for your thoughts?"

Flummoxed, he straightened in his seat until they were nearly at eye level. "No, Zeno Re."

"Is that a no to the daydreaming or can I not pay you to disgorge your innermost secrets?"

He'd been put on the spot. He was being made a fool of! Sometimes, he hated her for this! "The daydreaming, ma'am. I was just running some numbers in my head."

She smiled knowingly. "Well, then I'm sorry to interrupt." She lowered her voice. "Listen, it's okay if you're a little out of it. It's our first week back. I think a lot of us are."

Rikard nodded dumbly. "A bit," he admitted. Then, he, too, lowered his voice. "Are...you okay, Tan-Zeno?"

Jocasta paused and blinked, seemingly taken by surprise. "Not exactly, Rikard, but we manage, don't we?"

He swallowed and nodded and she rolled on to the next desk. "Pop challenge!" she called out suddenly, in her chipper Jocasta voice. "Books closed, wands ready!"

---

---

That night, he dreamt that he was in class, and that Jocasta was there, but she was the only one he recognized and, for some reason, his mind was telling him that she was... Emma? Enna? Something like that. It was weird. He didn't know anyone by that name, but he felt, fleetingly, like he did. She wasn't a teacher, either, but a fellow student, like him. They were seated together near the front, on account of his eagerness to learn and her wheelchair. After class, they went to the great hall for dinner instead of back to their dorms, and there was a yasoi girl who looked a bit like Miret, and a boy who looked like Benedetto, and another who he didn't recognize, though something about him reminded Rikard slightly of... Juulet? He knew them, as well, or had the sense that he did. Who could really say what dreams were about?

He awoke to find himself standing outside of a random dorm that he did not recognize. He was standing there, in his nightgown. A stray cat was looking up at him strangely. He cast about, but there was nobody else. Surreptitiously, the youth pinched himself, but he was most certainly awake now. Disturbed and exhausted, Rikard gathered his magic and returned to his own bed as quickly as he could.

---

---

The Hourglass Order

R E D S K I E S

It was the third night of the standoff and Joshe Intaba - at least the statue of him - looked as hideous as ever. Biros, junior faculty, and regular citizens had gathered round, holding torches and placards, waving banners, and chanting for the return of Penny Pellerin, the resignation of Arch-Zeno Tojarra, and the reinstatement of Eloise, Yvette, and Jean-Marc. As of the past few hours, however, they had taken on a new and dangerous bent. There was talk of storming the Enclave. There was talk of a coup.

Now, as the final rays of sun began to fade from the sky and Eshiran looked towards Dami, the city's hundreds of bells sounded. Was it simply the passing of an hour or a call to arms? The swollen mob, feeding off of its own energy, had tried, more than once, to march towards the Violet Enclave, where the true seat of the academy's power lay. An army of mercenaries, City Guards, and constructed golems faced them, interspersed with Zenos, Tan-Zenos, Centuries, and even a few Lamplighters.

These blocked every path they could find between the angry mass and their employers but, every once in a while, someone got through, slipping off into the dusky depths of the Arboretum. Every once in a while, one appeared outside of the Enclave. They began to gather. The defenders began to split their forces. The enormous city gates closed for the first time in years, sealing off all contact with the outside world on this night - this destined night - of Lepdes, the thirteenth of Velles, DZ55. It was in Dami's hands, or perhaps even Reshta's now.

---

---

G R E Y S K I E S

What happened on the night of Lepdes, the 13th of Velles? That there had been some sort of fight - some sort of violence - was a fact to all who lived within the walls of Ersand'Enise. Those who lived without had seen, clearly, the fires lighting up the darkness into the wee hours of the morning. They had seen the great beacon at the top of the Forked Tower flicker and disappear. People were left without sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, and others who had not upped and died for no reason. It was generally accepted that there had been a revolution and that the revolution had not been broadcast. The white walls held firm.

Yet, the vast majority of students had played only a lesser role in the fighting. They may have cut down a handful of mercenaries. They may have found themselves rushing and shouting through the hallowed halls of the Violet Enclave with torches in hand and anger in their hearts, but they had not done much more. There were mysteries at the heart of everything that they would never receive answers to: what had happened to Claresse Upta, the undoubtedly corrupt and biased but genuinely peace-loving Zenith? Why would she have called mercenaries against them? What had taken place in the Forked Tower - Ersand'Enise's centre of power? Some swore they'd seen demons swarming out of it. Others had awoken in infirmaries after trying to infiltrate the double-towered prison known as the Nashorn. Clearly, it was no normal prison, but a place of infamy. Finally, what of Alassa Tojarra, who had precipitated this entire conflict? None knew her whereabouts, and it was the topic of endless speculation.

It was mostly the rebelling Zenos, Tan-Zenos, and a particular group of about thirty students who'd been involved in clandestine work for these in the past who seemed to know more about these mysteries. Yet, perhaps some did not wish to remember and, as the magic of master internal chemists was used upon much of the city to... soften their memories of the uprising, these thirty were given a choice: keep their knowledge of the horrors they had encountered or return to blissful semi-ignorance.

---

---

B L U E S K I E S

That, indeed, seemed to be the operative word for much of the city. The swathes of the Arboretum that had lain in ashes for the first twenty hours following the violence were restored with speed and a degree of imperfection. They were not trying to hide, in its entirety, that something consequential had happened. They were merely trying to return matters to a semblance of normalcy. The towers and rooftops and warehouses were restored in short order. Pardons were issued to all but the most egregious of offenders, and the wards of the Violet Enclave returned, and stronger than before. The port was first to reopen, and then the gates - but not to the refugees of Tanso, Parmoy, and Yarsoc. Businesses were back at full capacity or something like it within a week, as classes were placed temporarily on hold. The scouts of the Perrench Legion, who had made camp outside, turned back once they were satisfied that the Princess Royal was safe. In retrospect, the events leading up to her arrest had been such a comedy of errors that it ought to have raised questions.

Classes remained suspended for a further week as the faculty voted upon, implemented, and announced a sweeping series of changes. Claresse Upta had been stripped of her office, position, and pension. Declared Anto, she had been sent back to Joru in disgrace. The same had gone for Riu Kai-Tan. Giacomo Giarrone had announced his retirement, scheduled for the end of the year, to give him time to wrap up his duties and move to an emeritus position. Joshe Intaba had been promoted into the role of Zenith over his own misgivings. The position of Paradigm was made formal, and not merely the purview of retired Zeniths as it had been before Hugo Hunghorasz had made something of the office. Karim Harrarchora remained ensconced there, but there were greater changes as well. While Arderedelle Latvar had fallen on the right side of history and retained her position as Arch-Zeno, she was now joined by a pair of newly-promoted High Zenos in the form of Sigmund Bastañer and João Fabio. Tarthas'talix'tuura and Sienna Afraval had been promoted straight from the rank of Zeno, which was highly irregular, and the disbarred Vaughn Marbrand had been reinstated not as a Zeno, but as an Arch-Zeno. Finally, the council had been expanded, with its two new positions going to recently-promoted High Zenos Olivier Masson and Giancarlo Silvestri. Much was done to balance matters between those two great political alliances of the outside world: Sovereign Pact and Central Alliance. Much was done to placate the latter that this was not simply a coup of the former. Much was done to assure the former that their position would, indeed, improve.

Yet, there was still more. Numerous Tan-Zenos found themselves preemptively promoted to full communion and pressed into teaching duties, a fact that a handful grumbled about. Administration decided to fill the gaps left in the same way that it had with one of these - Jocasta Re - by holding a series of interviews for 'Advanced Placement', allowing students seventeen years of age or older who demonstrated levels of maturity, magical understanding, and ability that significantly outstripped their peers' to test and interview for Tan-Zeno positions. Thus, it was, as the conflict that had torn the academy and city apart slipped from immediacy to recency, as dorrad sweltered, refugees gathered at the gates, and trade once again bustled, the tryouts were held and classes resumed. There seemed, once more, to be something to look forward to.

---

---

A R C F I V E : F I N

The Hourglass Order

UN R A V E L I N G

---

---

ONE

It was late at night, or perhaps early on the morning of Velles the Eleventh, when Isabella was awoken by a persistent pinching of her earlobe. "I'm up, I'm up!" she croaked, sitting up in bed. "Fuckin' 'ell." All around her, on stands and manikins, from lines where they hung and basins where they'd been dyed, lay the fruits of her labour. The pinching returned and it was Jocasta. <What. Want.> she pinched back, after a taking a moment to find her old refuge friend some ways away.

<Marci.> came the reply. <Hurt. Bad.>

Isabella was up within moments, dressing and swinging herself out of bed and into her wheelchair.

---

They'd all been called: Isabella, Luisa, Felix, and Yalen. They'd only missed Abdel. He'd slept through the barrage of pinches as was his custom. Five tethered gathered in a nondescript townhome within the faculty quarter, one with wide doors and hallways, low countertops, and a pulley lift to the second floor. Their sixth lay on the dining room table, made marginally comfortable by the inclusion of some hastily-arranged blankets and a pillow beneath her head. Though the outwardly-evident wounds had been healed, the damage was grave and irreparable.

"She'll be rabid," Jocasta was saying, in response to a question from Felix. "Blind, mad, aggressive." People hugged themselves and eyes darted around, seeking uncertain assurances that could not be given. Yalen, the only one standing, leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, and avoided looking at Marceline. He'd lit the lamps and candles. They did just enough.

"But she's..." Luisa reached an arm around Felix and hugged him from the side, their wheels butting up against each other's. "Well... on zero, right?"

Isabella nodded, having arrived and been filled in second of all to Yalen. "And she's the copy, right?" she added.

Jocasta nodded slowly. "She is," the senior tethered confirmed, "as long as they didn't get mixed up. I've seen it happen." She smiled faintly. "With some hilarious results." The smile faded almost immediately, however, for all knew that there was no levity to be had here.

"Well, can she be cured?" Felix prodded. "Of the aberration effects, of course." All tethered knew that, once you were fully on two - once the tethering reached your spinal column, there was no going back.

Yalen pushed off from the countertop and uncrossed his arms. "I have the gift I received from an aberration last year," he offered. "It can reverse some of the effect."

"And then a Grey Ab," exclaimed Luisa with some relief. "Two birds, one stone!"

The others exchanged serious eyes. "I know this may sound heartless," Felix offered, "But this is just the twenty-five hour copy, right?" He voiced what all - or at least most of them had been thinking but afraid to say.

Jocasta pursed her lips, nervous hands occupying themselves by taking a moment to fix the folds on Marci's tattered dress. "Yeah," she replied, "It should be."

"So we just... put her out of her misery?" Isabella concluded, not liking the sound of it even as it left her lips. Her eyes darted about guiltily, at her fellow tethered and at their dancing shadows on the walls, dim and distant.

Felix shrugged. Yalen pursed his lips. "Whatever we do," he decided, "We can't let her wake up like that, no matter what. The way I understand copies is that the memories go back to the original."

"I can keep her under for a day," Jocasta offered, "until she disappears." She left out the unspoken 'or not'. She shrugged. "Real Marci will receive no memories from after her copy here went unconscious." She drew back from the countertop and regarded the others in turn. "That sound reasonable?"

There were murmurs of consent and a few explicit affirmatives. Hugs were exchanged. Eyes lingered on their fallen sister. If she was not the true Marceline, she was a part of her and it was all too real, eerie, and uncanny. "Love you Marce," said Isabella, squeezing the girl's unmoving hand before rolling away. "You silly little thing," fretted Luisa, pushing herself up on her arms to plant a kiss on the girl's forehead. Felix ruffled her hair with glum fondness. Then, one by one, they rolled out of the door, Isabella lingering last. "If you need anything," she assured Jocasta and Yalen, eyes darting once again to Marci's prone form, "I'm just an annoying pinch in the night away." She offered a brave smile and a nod before backing away and closing the door behind herself.

The husband and wife to be were left alone in the dining room of their home, and the latter heaved a tired, worried sigh. She closed her eyes and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "Yalen," she began, opening them, "I know there's no reason, but do you think you could try to cure her anyway?" Just in case, her mind but not her mouth added. "I can't look at her like that and..." She shrugged. "It'll be good practice, right?"

---

---

T W O

Jocasta did, of course, call upon Isabella again, and Luisa, Felix, and Yalen. If the otherwise-incurable part of the madness was gone thanks to the last of them, not-Marceline was still utterly mad, blind, and paralyzed from the neck down, and would remain so until she disappeared.

Each took a shift watching over the girl, trading spare periods or playing hooky when absolutely necessary. They remained diligent: careful to keep her under so that her true self might not experience the horrors that would inevitably follow were she to wake.

So it was that the day passed. Marceline, as yet unaffected by the horrors wrought upon her doppelganger by her risky decisions, went about her business with Zarina, moving from tenseness to triumph. Meanwhile, the version of herself that had paid for her sins remained, lying still and silent on Jocasta's spare bed, chest rising and falling shallowly as she yet drew breath.

First, it was Yalen. Then, it was Felix, followed by Luisa. Isabella missed an afternoon period and then Jocasta maintained Marceline from afar. The afternoon drew on and the hour drew near.

The sun began to ripen in the sky, hanging like a fruit ready to drop, and Jocasta had long since returned home. At first, she looked in from time to time as she busied herself with her daily chores and marking papers, but then she began to linger. Worry sat, hard and high, atop her stomach, pulling at its strings and tightening them. She came often into the room, rolling quietly across the floor, tugging at the sheets, glancing out the window at the setting sun. Finally, it rested atop the jagged skyline of the city and began to dip below, fat and orange-pink. It could happen at any moment, she knew. She prepared herself for Marci to disappear. As the last of the sun slipped from view, she prepared the sigh of relief and waited for it to come.

It didn't.

---

---

T H R E E

How, Marci!? Jocasta couldn't get the thought out of her head. How could you fuck it up!? The girl was usually smart. She'd started a business with Zarina that had become an Ersand'Enise staple and was poised to explode across the twin continents. She'd outsmarted everyone in the Melon Derby and Thin Air, and come a hair from beating Juulet in Mano e Mano. How the hell could someone like you make such a stupid mistake!?

At some point, Jocasta slipped into acceptance. She was numb for a couple of minutes, the anxiety that had churned her insides gone. On some level she'd known. That undefinable impulse that some might call 'gut instinct' had warned her. He cleansed you, at least, she thought at the girl, but it was so much worse. It was unfathomably worse.

The sun had disappeared completely and she realized that she could wait no longer. While the Zenith had called a citywide curfew in response to the recent unrest, Jocasta was exempt from it as a Tan-Zeno. If she looked more like a student, then she was distinctive: the only blonde tethered woman in the entire city. She was allowed, so far as she'd bothered to read her intake materials during hundri, to escort two people, and... well, those had to be Marceline and Yalen. They had to get to the Groove. They had to get a white or grey ab. She didn't allow herself to think past that point.

Pushing herself into action, Jocasta turned on the spot and dodged the new wheelchair Yalen had gotten her from the Trials. She rolled out of the room and down the hallway. "My love," she called with some urgency, knocking on his door. He was soon to begin his evening prayers, she knew. She was about to knock again when she heard footsteps. A moment later, she was gazing up at Yalen, freshly bathed, his blonde hair still damp and smoothed back. By Ipté are you gorgeous!

"You radiate worry," he observed, stepping through the doorway. "Is it...?" He trailed off, and she nodded. "Marci." She wasn't sure whether to hug herself or have her hands on her wheels. Yalen solved the problem by reaching down and pulling her into an embrace. "We need to get her an aberration," he said, releasing Jocasta. He left the rest unsaid. "Jo, do you think you can teleport us?" he asked tenderly, and she swallowed in response, arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her small form. "I..." She stopped her automatic answer and considered. "I can teleport you two, straight into the backroom of the Swirl." She shook her head. "I'll follow as quickly as I can, but those... things will attack if I try to go. Can you handle her until I get there?"

Yalen scowled thoughtfully. "I... think so," he responded, "But this is aberration madness. You've got about a day from the time it sets in to clear what you can." Left unspoken were the other effects. Left unspoken was that nearly a day had passed.

---

Isabella was at her loom, putting the finishing touches on a project, when she felt a pinch on her earlobe. With the skill of a master, she managed to avoid ruining the pattern she'd been working on. <Marci. Here. Still.> She put down what she'd been doing and sat there for a moment as it dawned on her. Her heart sank. <Real. Marci.> she questioned. <Real.Marci.> came the response.

The Enthishwoman's hands fell to her wheels, trembling. <Need. What.> she asked. <Need. You. Portal. Now.> She looked up to find it waiting for her.

---

---

F O U R

The Vermilion Swirl was a place of pleasure. Certainly, there was the odd miserable old git who cared naught for anything but blunting his own unhappiness. By and large, however, it had established the sort of culture that made it an oasis. This was a place of privilege as much as refuge and, as a result, it was rare to see the worried, the ill, and the desperate here.

Then there were the three tethered: the Enthish clothing designer, the former priest, and the third. She was young and unmoving, laid on a table in the backroom that all knew led to The Groove. "It'll be enough," the first was saying. "I took one half this size with Luisa and Felix and it pushed each of our symptoms back as far as they'd go." Absently, she indicated a line just above her hips.

Yalen considered. He closed his eyes for focus and scanned Marceline's prone form. He could feel the nerves in her arms, shoulders, and chest firing again. He followed them down into her midsection and all the way to that invisible line just before they branched out into her legs. He scowled. "It's the aberration side of things that worries me." He shook his head. "A normal mage is a menace if they go mad, but a tethered?"

Isabella shrugged uncomfortably. "She could wreak havoc all over the city and it'd take hours to find the source."

It was at about that moment that Jocasta rolled breathlessly into the room. She took a moment to compose herself, chest heaving, and shook her arms out before fixing her hair. "So it's done? she asked. "She's taken it?" Her eyes, still adjusting to the darkness, searched her peers' faces before flicking Marci's way.

Yalen nodded. "You didn't have to run. It was pretty straightforward."

Jocasta took a few pushes, rolling right up to the unconscious younger girl. She brushed some hair from Marci's eyes. "How far did we get?" Is she...?"

Isabella nodded. Yalen shook his head. "As far as we thought," the former replied. "As far as us."

Jocasta closed her eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath, held it, and released it before opening them. "Godsdammit, Marci: you brave, stupid little person." She hadn't walked since she was thirteen, hadn't felt anything below her waist since then and, in a lot of ways, living with effectively half a body was... her normal. Gods, she knew it was hard, though, and she shuddered to think of how impossible it would be without the Gift. "You're gonna do it, Marce." She ran her fingers through the girl's hair. "It's gonna be hard and I know you thought it was a bullet you'd dodged - Gods, I wish you had - but you're going to be okay, like me and Issy." She looked over at her childhood friend and they exchanged tight, knowing smiles. "This is a bump in the road, I promise, and there are good things waiting on the other side of it."

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to screw her jaw shut and will them away, but it was no use, so she ran the back of her hand across her face. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to destroy Juulet: to pound her to pieces, to make her beg pathetically for her wretched life and to coldly refuse. She wanted to, because the yasoi had hurt someone she loved, but it rang hollow. It had been Marci's choice and Marci's mistake. She had started buying into her own cleverness and invincibility and would be forever marked by it. Jocasta knew that feeling. She took a deep breath. "I want her to have privacy for a few days, to be safe from what's going on in the city." She sniffed and straightened. "That still okay?"

Isabella nodded.

---

---

U N R A V E L I N G

Raveling

The room lay still, dark, and quiet, its only noises the ticking of a clock in increasingly dire need of winding and a faint splashing. A sliver of soft golden light traced a diagonal line across bed, desk, and stained oak floor alike. A gentle wind, from a window left partially open, stirred the papers on the desk and made that brilliant line of brightness sway with the curtains that constrained it. Dust motes swirled and sparkled like midges. A jacket hung on the back of a chair. This seemed a place in mourning, or else in waiting, but for one detail.

A small, worried noise escaped the brass tub in one corner of the room and, not so very long after, the eyes of a small animal peered over its lip. "Pheeee...." The eyes blinked and a small tentacle slinked over the edge, followed by a second. A lonely gurgle escaped the little ground octopus and he slid back into the water, leaving a trail of bubbles behind. He went to pick at some sea peach that had been left behind for him: a rare delicacy, to be sure.

Time passed and the line of light stretched and skewed as it migrated across the room. The small octopus kept himself busy: first, cleaning his little room within the room by removing the excess fibres from the sea peach; then, rearranging his little hut; finally, polishing the fine chains that hung over the side of the tub, holding up a lovingly handmade wooden plaque that read, "Domino".

The baby animal had been taught, in these early days of his life, to always wait for mother, whose name he had already recognized was 'Marci'. He was not to leave its tub unless she was present. Then, and only then, he had run of the room and, if he was clinging to her, run of the entire house beyond! Marci had been gone, though, for the entire night, and now the better part of a day. He was not old enough to know if this was normal, but he felt it was not. He splashed restlessly, trying to relieve his simple form of anxiety, and resigned himself to playing with a uniquely-coloured pebble. He let out another sad gurgle.

It was about two more hours, by the reckoning of the increasingly orange-gold light from the window, before Domino's self-discipline had reached its limit. He gathered enough water in his gills to last him a few hours of terrestrial exploring. Then, he climbed guiltily out of his tub and slid onto the desk, paranoid that, any moment, mother would come in, scold him, and take away his sea peach. Almost immediately, his worry appeared to become self-fulfilling, as he knocked over an inkpot. It made a terrible noise, spilling an awful, oily black fluid all over the table and its papers and tumbling to the floor with a loud, 'clank'!

Domino scrambled behind a stack of books, waiting for mother to burst in, exasperated, and plop him back in his tub. On some level, perhaps, he even wanted her to. However, this was not the case and, after a couple more minutes of cautious movement among books, the illicit thrill was his! Curling up his tentacles to be better able to walk in the fashion that ground octopi often did, he scampered noiselessly across the floor, climbed onto mother's bed - oh, how she would hate that! - and clambered up to the windowsill.

The little animal looked back upon the destruction he had wrought: an inkpot knocked over - unintentionally, of course! - water and ink tracked all across the floor and onto her sheets. He was in too deep now and decided that there was no point in turning back. He paused by the window, straining to push the heavy curtains aside, and slipped through.

Before Domino, stretching off for as far as he could see, lay the city of Ersand'Enise. It appeared queerly empty, save for one little area in the distance with plenty of people. The tiny ground octopus blinked and cast about, calling on his memory - for ground octopi had excellent memories. He knew zenobucks - the one place Marci had taken him - and he knew how to get there.

---

---

F I V E

The rooftops of Ersand'Enise did what they could to hold back the start, but the sun rose just the same, pale fingers of light reaching across the cityscape, into windows and bedrooms, waking those who had slept. Many had not. The city of the bells waited, its dew sparkling and swelled with destiny, like the grassy plains of a battlefield before.

Some businesses duly opened. Others remained shuttered. Some students peeled out of their nightclothes, shrugged into their dayclothes, and prepared to go to classes. Others remained shuttered. The air was drawn taut, threaded across rooftops, doors, and gardens, rigid through living rooms, a barrier in bedrooms, diving into lungs and constraining them. None who had been here for more than mere hours could breathe easy.

Yet, as a pale ivory sliver split the curtains of a large apartment just outside the city walls, one did. She had woken before, to be certain, so briefly as to not even recall it. The girl - she was too young to be called 'woman' - was in a warm haze, and had settled back to sleep without a shred of awareness.

Now, however, her eyelids fluttered. Warm and ensconced beneath her blankets, she lay there in semiconsciousness, trying to ignore the slight headache that pinched at her being and promised unwelcome lucidity. A hangover some portion of her groggy mind decided and, with the deliberateness of that thought, the veil of slumber was indelibly broken. Try as she might, Marceline could not drift away again.

She snuggled deeper into her pillow in a futile attempt, feeling something wrong but not being wakeful enough to place what it was. Groggily, she opened her eyes and noted semi-familiar surroundings. This was Isabella's spare apartment: the one above her warehouse in Fascino. She must've gone out after the party and had too much to drink, for she could remember...

An entire day out with Zarina that she could not account for. Memories from her temporary clone began to appear as well: disastrous ones that ended with -

Involuntarily, Marceline went to shift in bed, and then she felt it or, rather, didn't. It was an impossible feeling. With a start, unbidden adrenaline rushing through her, she went to kick her blankets free. She couldn't feel them. This was one of those nightmares. Her heart pounded, but she let herself be relieved. She'd had many like it: suddenly being unable to walk, her tethering suddenly having turned her into Jocasta or Isabella or... her mother! This was one of those, even though it was uncannily real and there was a tinging feeling about her waist. She tried to end the dream as she sometimes did. There was the sound of wheels in the hallway: a tethered approaching. Still, she tried to end it and everything faded mercifully to black.

They spoke in murmured worries: three tethered women around a bed where the fourth lay. "Things are getting hairy," insisted one, "real hairy."

"It's a full-on riot at this point," another declared. She twisted on the spot as the third settled a light jacket about her shoulders and bid the first do so as well. "You're... going?"

The third nodded. "It's more than a riot, too." She set hands to wheels and rolled through an archway, gently pushing the door to a room open. The others released their brakes and followed her. All three filtered slowly into the room. "Protecting those worth protecting and killing those worth killing is my job tonight," Jocasta said cryptically. "Marci is yours." She swallowed and fixed the younger girl's covers before turning about.
.
"She's already woken," Luisa offered.

"And she thinks it's a dream," Isabella responded. "I used to have them too." All three exchanged glances. All tethered had such dreams. While they had been forced to face the reality of those, they had yet hoped that Marci might not have to, that one of them might get away. "Next time, she won't," declared Jocasta with finality.

"Will she wake?"

The other two shrugged. "I don't think so," replied the blonde, "I dosed her enough for a begemot."

"But if she does..." Isabella trailed off.

"Right," Luisa concluded. "Don't let her be alone."

---

---

S I X

She was alone. She could feel it the moment that sound reached her ears and sensation her skin. She was alone in a still and quiet room and, once more, Marceline awakened to a glow upon the horizon. A grim pinkish-orange light warped and threw the silhouettes of Ersand'Enise across the surrounding countryside, as far as this second-floor apartment at the edge of Belleville.

For a moment, the girl lay there and breathed. She pulled air into her lungs and let it out: a simple thing that she had control over. From the moment that consciousness had started to reclaim her, she had opened her senses and bade her mind to feel her body. She curled and uncurled her fingers. She focused on the light touch of the covers on her bare shoulders. She'd had the most terrible dream and she worked her way down, already - in some unwelcome part of her mind - knowing what she would find. She worked her way down to wiggle her toes and...

Numbness.

Her heartrate increased as she lay there in the shrouded darkness of this room, as the distant fires of a revolution sent ominous, orange-tinted shadows to writhe and snap across the floor of her room. Her knees. Marceline tried to move them - to sense them.

Nothing.

Numbness and the sensation of pins and needles about her waist. A deep, cold, feeling congealed inside of her and she lay there for a moment. She just lay there. She lay there and thought about not thinking. Instead, her memories flooded back: two separate sets of them, as if she had been two separate people at the same time. For a moment, she imagined, she was the copy, but her heart beat faster and a frigid... something swept through her. A whole day's worth of memories. If she was the copy...

Numbness.

This was real. But it couldn't be. She was the original. She'd claimed that she was and the other had taken the risk. She'd - Her heart beat faster. She had two sets of memories. Which one had been hers!? Which person had been her!? She pinched herself just below the ribs and nothing happened but a flash of momentary pain. Everything trembled, from her breath to her fingers. She tried to twist, but there was a weight: a great awkward weight that pulled at her - or the bottom of the 'her' that she could feel - at that line. That line, suddenly, was defining. It was where she ended and she did not know why. She could not fathom why. "Issy!?" she called, and her voice felt small and rough. "Issy!!!"

Nothing.

Now, she panicked. Marci tried to sit up and... she couldn't! She strained, willing it, but there was nothing below that prickly line. She ended there and her heart beat faster. She felt her pulse in her ears and the world grew faint. Marci called upon the Gift. She scrabbled with her arms and sat up unsteadily, the world seeming tentative and unsteady. "Issy, please!!" She cast about for the owner of this place. "Anyone!" She paused, chest heaving, sweat pasting her hair against the side of her face. "Anyone!" She couldn't feel her legs or her... anything. She tried to focus. She tried to use the Gift. They were there, but they were lost to her. She lifted her hands from the bed, where they'd been supporting her, and could immediately feel herself start to fall. She clenched up and half-caught herself, arms shooting back to prevent the rest. She called upon the Gift to support her and, tentatively, lifted one arm free, reaching down to untangle the sheets.

Numbness.

It was... like touching somebody else's leg: a foreign object. With a terrified fascination, the girl ran her hand down a thigh and up again all the way to - She stopped and wrinkled her nose. Wetness. For a moment, every part of her body that she had control over tensed in revulsion. She knew what it was and she wiped her hand vigorously - frantically - on the covers. With a noise, not that of anything sapient or worthwhile, she released the hold of magic upon her form and waited for herself to fall back: to fall back so that she wouldn't feel, so that this would all be some bad dream or a temporary setback she would overcome, as she had so many others.

Nothing.

If she could just - She let out a second wail, and a third, loud enough to rip at her throat. She threw herself back. At least she could still do that. There had to be some way. She had magic. There had to be some way to undo this, to reverse it, to prevent it. She could see the shadows on the floor. Something bad was happening outside and she did not want anything to do with it. I'm broken, she screamed inwardly. I'm broken. I broke myself. I'm half a person. Half a person! She tried to picture herself: her, Marceline, in a wheelchair, just like Mama and Jocasta and Isabella. She tried to picture that her, tried to imagine her happy, like they were, but the fear won out. How had they done it!? How could they function!? Would she have to depend on the Gift to do basic things for the rest of her life!?

It was too much to even cry: too much to process, too much finality, too much all at once and it was damning. She couldn't sit up on her own. She could move! She had pissed herself, like a baby, and not even known. She couldn't even feel it. What else she might not feel remained a subject unbroached but very much present. Juulet had done this to her: a powerful person breaking her and discarding her. Marci had never thought she'd be discarded. Even in her worst moments back at the refuge, she'd believed otherwise. She'd always been clever. She'd always been sure that she would make something of herself in the thirty-odd years she'd been given. You are a stupid, worthless piece of shit and anyone who invests in you is making a mistake.

She tried to direct her anger at Juulet and swore that - whatever it took - she would see that vile bitch die in terror and agony, but it rang hollow and pathetic. What the hell is a pathetic little cripple like you ever going to do to a Goddess? Just the mental image of herself - in a wheelchair - trying to go up against that sort of Titan seemed bitterly ridiculous. Marceline was nothing, or half of nothing now. She wasn't even smart. She'd fucking mixed up herself and her copy. She'd gloated instead of just fucking shooting Juulet between the eyes when she'd had her. She hadn't taken the seed - so stupidly overconfident. She'd let herself be swayed - even momentarily - by the bitch's ridiculous story about Dory. She'd gotten Fiske involved and - She didn't even know where he was or if he was okay. The weight of her mountain of failures crushed her crippled body and she lay there numb and sobbing and just wishing she could fall asleep and fade away and it would all be better.

Only, it wouldn't. It would never be better. She had ruined herself, permanently, or for however blessedly short a time she lasted. She would lie here in her own piss and misery, the girl who had wanted to live forever, telling herself that it was too much. That she couldn't do it, that she couldn't live even fifteen more years like this. She would stop taking aberrations. That's what she'd do. She'd stop taking them and fade away quickly - just get it over with, just be a fond memory of someone her friends and family had known.

A fist clenched around her stomach and she felt sick. Did they know this had happened? Did they know that she was like this!? It squeezed and twisted. They couldn't know. They couldn't see her: none of them except for whoever had put her here. They mustn't. They wouldn't! Thus, she stared blankly at the wheelchair by her bedside and focused her racing mind with thoughts of how she might disappear and how it would be better that way.

---

---

The Hourglass Order

---

---

---

---

Usually, they dispelled the rain for events like this, but whispers traveled about the student body and city at large that not only had they failed to dispel it this time, the Arch-Zenos had created it. Youths gathered by the dozens beneath awnings and overhangs. They clustered in the shelter of kinetic barriers and enhanced their hearing to listen to the Zenith's closing address over the deluge. A fraction of them were rich with spoils and winnings. Porters handles great pallets of goods, soon to pass through one portal or another. Some had made or rekindled friendships, alliances, and affairs of love. Others left embittered, present only out of obligation. The city of magic, with its white walls and sparkling towers, had proven a false dream for the second time. They were left indelibly disillusioned.

There were some, however, for whom Ersand'Enise yet held immense promise. Some would stay. Some would fight for it, or perhaps against it. Some had become rich in the span of a week, literally, figuratively, or both. After the drama of Mano e Mano, the scramble of Right or Spite, and the high stakes of prize selection, there were winners just as certainly as there were losers.

The Trials: Final Results

Final Standings
Mano e Mano Results
Prizes Table
Prize Selections

Some went back through the portals offered by the Zenos, eager to return home. Others lingered a bit longer and scooped up the unclaimed prizes at an auction later that day. The masquerade ball to conclude the Trials had been canceled due to a convergence of unrest outside the city and within though, officially, it was due to the sudden and untimely passing of Arch-Zeno Joshe Intaba, who had disappeared during his intervention in that disastrous Mano e Mano quarterfinal. Word came down that the school was in mourning but, curiously, while campus events had been suspended, classes had not.

The students would not be denied. While some, angry and majority - though not exclusively - Perrench and allied, took to protesting their unfair treatment which could no longer be ignored, others flocked, during the night of Victendes the ninth, to a large house on the Godsroad, just beyond the city's formal boundaries. This was the 'Soirée', to which they'd all been invited, regardless of nationality or popularity. If it was not an official event, then much was riding on it nonetheless, for few would dispute that the school was a powder keg and the city at large was scarcely better off. Still, great powers built up their forces and prepared their battle plans. Still, Belleville pursued ties with the City of the Bells. Still, desperate and disowned, refugees piled up by the gates in their hundreds and even their thousands.

By the time Eshiran's hours slipped into Dami's, musicians were playing, food and drink were served, and the midsized property was crowded with dozens of teens. Soon, it would be hundreds. They laughed. They danced. They socialized. Certainly, there were flashes of tension. Oraff does not craft all the same, Dami does not shape all alike, and Ipte will not force kinship upon them. By and large, however, the night was an immense success: evidence, perhaps, that the Zenith's words about the future and its promise maybe have held truth. Whatever other failings of her administration had since been exposed, at least she had been prophetic on one account, or so it appeared.

And yet... that very same night, in Balthazar Square and Dami's Cross, groups of drunken Perrench, Belzaggic, and Virangish students waved flags and chanted before being chased off by Academy Guardsmen and Lamplighters. Yet, what they missed were the others who slipped into the Courtyard of Exemplars at Arc-en-Ciel Hall and transformed the statue of Alassa Tojarra into the likeness of a pig-faced woman, replete with slurs and epithets describing her. That of the Zenith was marked with the demonic symbols of Zagnath, for greed, and Iptacht, for treachery.

The response was immediate. Penny Pellerin, who had been unfortunate enough to ingest the aberration earlier, was collected from the party as it wound down without incident and brought in for questioning. Roslyn Wicke, who'd intervened as a spectator to put an end to the match, found a letter with the seal of the school treasurer in her mailbox informing her that her THESIS funding had been reassessed and she was no longer eligible. When those students not playing hooky arrived on campus, they found notices on the door of every building that a curfew would be enforced 'until such time as it no longer proves necessary'. None were to be out past 1:00 HD upon pain of suspension from classes.

There was no stopping the news from spreading, however. Penny Pellerin had been taken into custody and not yet released. Eloise Desrochers, who had lost an arm in the violence following the quarterfinal; Jean-Marc Savard, the young Marquis d'Arouains; and Yvette Larocque, Comtesse de Chamonix had been arrested for their part in the acts of vandalism. The others had escaped, for now, but the academy offered substantial reward for their capture. The result was a second act of vandalism, right under the nose of the authorities.

For a second night, Penny was held in custody, and those closest to her would no longer remain silent. The verdict came down from above that the vandals would be summarily expelled without refund of their tuition, declared Anto, and blacklisted from the school registry. The reward for the remaining vandals was increased: A large medallion of the rare metal veldolm for each credibly brought in with supporting evidence. Curfew was extended into the hours of Eshiran so that, effectively, students could go only from class to home and the reverse. Local businesses complained of lost revenue and part-time employees. The people of Belleville made common cause with this new ally of convenience, decrying the tyranny of the mages in their ivory towers. Still, the great powers sharpened their swords. Still, the people of Tanso, Parmoy, and Oiyac camped outside of the city gates.

Then, a memorial to the fallen Arch-Zeno Intaba went up. It was an impromptu thing, formed hastily by a group of binders in Balthazar Square before they could be roughly hauled away. Yet, there was an imperfect beauty to it and the academy was loath to erase a memorial honouring one of their own fallen. On the third day of the unrest, students began to leave flowers, candles, and notes beside it. This, the academy's and city's administrators decided, was a healthy release of tension. This, they allowed in a limited capacity. The famously fair but firm arbiter of Ersand'Enise's justice stood there in Balthazar Square, ferrous and lumpen and, unbeknownst to his erstwhile peers, a symbol of what the school should have been, in contrast to what it was.

They began to stay, after curfew, in a vigil about the statue. At first, guards removed them, but then there were too many. The third night came and Miss Pellerin remained locked up in the Violet Enclave. Messengers had been dispatched to Perrence. Among them, symbolically, was Leike van de Hoek, who had lost a leg in the initial bout of unrest during the Trials. Dozens more gathered overnight, and they numbered well into the hundreds by the morning. Some Zenos refused to teach their half-empty classes. Some stood in solidarity with their students. Then, word got out that Arch-Zeno Tojarra, who had been suspended from academic duties, with pay, had been asked to withdraw her charges against those who had been involved in the quarterfinal incident.

She refused.

Now, the peaceful vigil began to turn angry. Some demanded that she be fired. Others stepped up to defend her, saying that it was her duty to ensure that the academy's laws were not ignored, no matter how perfunctory the case. These were few, however, and far between. Now came a letter from King Rouis himself, demanding the immediate release of his daughter and certifying the mobilization of the Legion de la Flamme Sacrée should she not walk out of the Violet Enclave unharmed, within twenty-five hours. The Dukes of Tojarra and five allied families of Torragon and Revidia sent similar notices urging the school to reinstate their kinswoman. King Sancho's missive stated only that he was certain that Dami's divine judgement would hold firm and that the guilty party would be held accountable. While some interpreted this as a carte blanche to encourage his countrymen, it was not lost upon others that the Arch-Zeno had struck his niece in anger. In response, the school began calling its Zenos from their primary duties as instructors and researches to their secondary duties as defenders of the school's integrity. Some heeded the call. Others interpreted it differently. It was the administrators who threatened the school's integrity, in fact, and not those who protested against them.

So it was that the hornet's nest had been kicked. The powder keg had been lit. Whatever idioms one might apply, they held true here. Lepdes the 13th arrived. Streets were largely empty. Classes were suspended. Ersand'Enise stood at the very precipice of a deep black abyss.

---

---

The Hourglass Order

---

---

T H E H O R N E T ' S N E S T

---

---

<sub>Few events in the storied history of The Trials have been as consistently polarizing as Mano e Mano. Often seen in the leadup to wars, it is, at its core, combat to the death. While some argue that it gives young thaumaturges invaluable exposure to the harsh realities of life-or-death combat, others see it as nothing more than bloodsport for entertainment and a blight on the academy's noble calling.

It was against this backdrop that the final game of the five-hundred-fifty-fifth took place. It was within this context that some of the most entertaining and meaningful combats the academy and its young biros had ever seen took place. Who could forget Leon Solaire's memorable tilt against his underwear, or the Kamehameha Bros. radical fusion against Dorothea Hohnstein and Tku Pictor? And that final! What an epic scrap! Yet, when allw as said and done, most of these would pass from the memories of those who had witnessed them for one simple fact: they were overshadowed, and not in a good way. Every war needs a tipping point: some moment when it becomes obvious that bloodshed is unaviodable, when a reasonable course of events turns for the worse. That was what happened on Victendes, Velles the 9th, DZ55 when Salomé Xiuyang Solari and her partner Ingrid Pederson of Fait Accompli faced off against the Perrench duo of Penny Pellerin and Guy Attard of Fiske 'n Chips on the plains of Joru. From the very moment they walked out of the tunnel, they were headed for disaster.</sub>

---

---

O L I V E B R A N C H

C H A P T E R: 1

As Xiuyang, Ingrid, Penny and Guy stepped out into the arena, they were met with thunderous cheers. "Vive la Perrence!" came the chants for Penny and Guy. "Fatelo per Revidia!" the Revidians shouted to Xiuyang and Ingrid.

Xiuyang rolled her eyes. "Losers," she judged, cocking her head to the side and spitting on the ground. "Any other day, and they'd squint at me—but put a Revidian flag next to my name, and look how eagerly they cheer. They don't know shit about me—about any of us—don't care that we're actually friends. I'm supposed to kill you for the glory of their country?" She spat again. "Fuck their flag. Ain't nothin' tying me to their country but a birth certificate. Not a fuckin' thing else."

She looked around at the crowd, as if to ask: Does this amuse you? The audience, however, only saw what they wanted to see: Xiuyang had laid eyes on her opponents, spat on the ground, and looked to the crowd for apparent approval. But now, she regarded Penny, flashing her now-signature smile as she shrugged. "Makes me wanna fuck with 'em. Piss 'em off a little. Feel me?" She spread her arms wide, beckoning Penny to come closer. The Revidians roared at her supposed display of "come at me" confidence.

Xiuyang, however, had something else in mind. She did not expect the one-legged Perrenchwoman to close the distance by herself; she stepped forward, intent on hugging Ashon's beloved in front of the entire stadium.

Penny didn't hear it all, but she stopped herself from arching an eyebrow at the display, well aware that eyes were upon her. She both loved and hated that, though at the moment, the latter won out. 'Friends' was not what Penny would've called them. They moved among some of the same social circles, but had never said more than a handful of words to each other. She gave a gesture noncommittal enough that people could interpret it how they would.

Beside her, Guy started to tense, possibly to move forward to intercept, and possibly for some other reason. "Tranquile," she cautioned, watching as the Revidian made her point and sallied forward.

The issue was that this was the girl who had been flirting with her betrothed. This was the girl who had been cut out from her family company. This was the girl who had recently been cozying up to Ciro Volta. Revidians had been doing this all across Mano e Mano. This was a ploy, but she could use it.

"Nous serons les méchants si nous ne lui rendons pas son affection," (We will look like the bad guys if we don't return her affection) she cautioned Guy, placing a gentle but firm arm in front of him. "Laisse-moi faire." (Let me do this) She strode out quickly, before Xiuyang could close the distance, and wrapped her arms around her 'friend', embracing her tightly. "You are not my enemy and never have been. Our nations of birth do not define us."

Then, she leaned in closer, dropping a sonic bubble around them. "I need this win," she whispered. "I need it or I am in more trouble than I can fathom." She removed the sound dampening. It had lasted all of two seconds, virtually unnoticeable. She twisted to Ingrid and nodded. "It is a pleasure to see you as always, old buddy."

Xiuyang embraced Penny, leaning her head into her and smiling at her sweet words. She couldn't have possibly hoped for a better reply. Because of that, she hesitated to speak again; Penny seized the moment, and when the sonic bubble came, Xiuyang suppressed a disappointed snort. Clever minds thought alike, she supposed. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought of her own ways to get inside her opponent's head; it was that such ideas belonged on the altar of spite, not victory.

That hug looked awkward, Ingrid smiled through the situation. She gave her polite greetings to Guy, the obvious soldier before getting to Penny. Ingrid was momentarily stopped on how to respond to Penny, she had been two-faced to Ingrid more than once. In the end, she treated her the same.

Ingrid mouthed I'm sorry, to her and gave that awkward grin. "It's good to see you in fine health Penny." She considered saying more but held back, "Are you in good condition for the match?"

Meanwhile, Guy was slightly conflicted. Xuiyang was nice enough and if it was a normal person she was hugging Penelope wouldn't have cared but It was Penny. His training was to hold out his spear to stop her even against his personal opinion. But he had been instructed otherwise by Penny and he loyally followed.

Guy gave a warm smile to Xuiyang, "You went missing for a bit." He looked her up and down, inspecting her out of concern. "Still going to be able to join me for a swim after the trials?" Guy asked. Penelope went to make friends with the 2 opponents, going at their feet and sitting. Practically demanding pets and scratches.

When the sonic bubble came down, a few voices in the crowd were booing. Xiuyang turned away from Penny as she broke off the hug, such that only Ingrid could see her face. "Yeah, sorry about the vanishing act. A little compulsory pilgrimage to scenic Yarsoc, all expenses paid. Scratch one country off my list, in more ways than one," she japed darkly, twirling a finger through her hair as she spoke. "I'm not exactly eager to feel the sand between my toes again anytime soon. We should have drinks after this, though."

She stood silently, looking up and around and smirking at the angry faces she found here and there. She said nothing, just long enough that it became slightly uncomfortable. Then, she whipped around to look at Penny, smiling ambiguously. "Then, would you like a grace period, mon amie?" she finally gave in reply to Penny, her voice full of her usual cheer. It rang slightly hollow, but anyone could tell that she was trying not to be a drama queen, and move past her harrowing encounter.

Penny shrugged. "Nah. No grace period. Let's just get this over with." In truth, she knew she was in for a shellacking at the hands of much stronger people. She'd give it her all, but this was where the Revidians and Ingrid - who'd always had a violent streak a mile wide that she tried to suppress - would get to humiliate someone they disliked, and she realized that she'd just made it worse by attempting the one underhanded play that might've been able to save her and poor, dutiful Guy.

Surely, it had all been mindgames from Xiuyang - they'd hardly ever said a word to each other and the bitch was a half-step short of brazenly trying to steal her fiancé. In any case, Xiuyang's hollow response was already putting a light on the truth. Well, you bitch, I guess you get to actually take something from me today, she thought at the Revidian, since you'll only ever take Jamboi over my dead body. It occurred to her that she would almost certainly be suffering from a case of 'my dead body' in a couple of minutes, but what could reasonably be done?

At the very least, the utter condescending falseness of Xiuyang's 'camaraderie' would be revealed: a pyrrhic or moral victory, if nothing else. Penny would have preferred not to suffer the brutal temporary death that she knew was coming, but she had died once before and nearly died on at least a handful of other occasions. Better to go out on her shield and drop the pretense. "Do your worst, 'friend'," she spat. "Show my fiancé who's the better woman." She glared absolute daggers at the Revidian, and then, she got an idea…

Xiuyang cocked her head to the side, cracking her neck as she gave Penny a curious look. "Are you still going on and on about that? If you haven't noticed, I've barely spoken a word to Jamboi lately. Almost like a little bird told me he'd proposed, and I decided to back off, even though I've done nothing wrong." She started pacing in circles around the Perrenchwoman. "In fact, it's funny—everyone calls me hax'doiyap, even though I've never done anything untoward with any boy, never mind a yasoi. So tell me, why is it you get a free pass?" She returned her narrow-eyed gaze.

"Oh, how chivalrous of you to stop once he's proposed. You tried to steal my fucking boyfriend, no word of apology, and you come here and have the sheer gumption to make a big public display of 'friendship'!?" She broke eye contact. "I don't know what your game is, but at least I see the real you. Enjoy getting your licks in now, with big strong Ingrid to back you up," Penny snarled. "She won't be there next time we meet."

She glanced at Ingrid, forcing a note of evenness into her voice. "No offense, Ingy, really. I know we're just on different sides here. My issue's with this homewrecker."

Ingrid found herself reduced to just standing there. When had she gotten pulled into their catfight? It was getting real personal, "None taken Penny." But, oh Ipte, was this awkward to do in front of thousands of people.

Guy was right now clicking at Pebble, giving her the secret code to a win! Or so he hoped.

"Ah, my mistake,” Xiuyang fired back, “How dare I have male yasoi friends, when I'm actively trying to make an actual difference for Jamboi's people. See, that's why I'm called tree-rider, and you're not."

Her eyes expressed a coldness she never had before, to anyone. "Perhaps you'd have celebrated if those beasts in Yarsoc had torn me to shreds. Sadly, I'm still here."

Most in the stands could sense that there was bad blood down below, even if they couldn’t hear it, but there were a handful who heard everything. Juulet was among those who had come to see the show, and she was having the time of her life. "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU TREE RIDING YANII HENS! RIP EACH OTHER’S HEADS OFF!" she wailed from the bleachers.

With a thorough application of sonic magic and her keen yasoi senses, Tyrel was another who’d heard it all. Fresh off of obliterating Fiske a few minutes earlier, she had only just taken her seat in the stands when the drama started. She scowled almost immediately. Too often, women found themselves at each other's throats over a man when, in reality, it was him who was the problem. She knew both combatants. She knew Penny's deep-set insecurity. She knew Xiuyang's goodness beneath a rough surface. She sat, glancing helplessly over at Ciro. His eyes narrowed. He began to focus, even over the screams of that obnoxious yasoi 'goddess'.

"Don't worry," he told Tyrel softly. "They have good security here. Nothing bad will happen to Xiuyang." He began to focus on a point near Penny while Tyrel cast about for Ashon, thinking to give him a piece of her mind.

The subject of her disapproval, however, was a Timewalker who had already sensed that it was better not to be present, rendering Penny’s and Xiuyang’s posturing worthless. While his betrothed fought against a bitter rival, he was nowhere to be found. For what it was worth, he considered Chad every bit as worthy of blame if not moreso, and the rest of the Tarlonese by extension. His constant promiscuity and pursuit of… a certain ‘type’ had made Penny paranoid. Clearly, Ashon was blameless here. Clearly, he was doing the right thing by being absent.

In contrast, Chad was very much in the stands, seated between Tyrel to his left and Juulet to his right. He leaned back in his seat, arms behind his head. "Do they have popped corn here?" He smiled. "It's my favourite yanii snack." He glanced down at the proceedings as others began to cheer for their favourites and weigh in. "Well, for what it's worth, Penny's more my type."

Tyrel scowled his way and Chad made a show of whistling innocently. "You know you're my luush'elar, babe."

"Pizza is better than popcorn, Chad'amis," she replied frostily.

Roslyn found a seat not so far away and settled in, her chest tight with discomfort. It was hard to watch two friends show such animosity toward each other. It was bad enough that she had watched one of these girls die once before and now had to witness it again. The idea of being temporally anchored didn't ease that anxiety at all. "I really hate this event," she murmured to nobody in particular, but she was not alone for long.

Esmii had stayed after Sven's match to cheer Penny on. She was also a little worried about her. She could see that Roslyn was split as she knew that she was friends with both Penny and Xiuyang, but Esmii was here for Penny. "Go on Penny, you got this" She shouted as loud as she could, while jumping around in excitement. She then sat next to Roslyn and gave her a hug.

Desmond was present as well, and he heard it all. The magusjaeger sighed as he leaned back in his seat, forced to watch this uncomfortable scene. He flicked his hair to the side and grumbled a bit loudly to himself, "Women". It was a sentiment that seemed to have found traction among some of the other single men, though one, a certain ‘Asier’, sat rather uncomfortably as several continued to jeer and laugh. "Women, right?"

Yuliya was also in the crowd, only to see her best bud Penny. Maybe she had her doubts, maybe Ingrid had become a sanguinaire, but Penny was the only person Yuli had in recent times that could compare to her in any way. Was she going to be alone once more in her strength, too weak to compete against Juulet and too strong to empathize with others? She hoped not. She prayed Penny would prove herself, as she had more than once in Kirimansk.

"PENNY! KICK THEIR ASSES!" she shouted through the crowd, giving a big wave. It would be no easy match, but when was it ever easy for them?

It was as if her shout acted as a starting pistol. All at once, the match began. Ingrid was already casting Infinity Loop, which formed the basis of much of her power.

Guy sent Pebble into greyspace and strengthened himself with Chemical magic, focused on the match and happy to be past the dramatic preamble.

But Penny caught Xiuyang cold and that’s all there was to it. For all of her apparent despair, she knew that she wasn’t actually behind the other team in raw power. A colossal wave of raw gravity flattened to Revidian and even Ingrid’s desperate defense didn’t appear to be enough. Guy chose that moment to intervene and pull her away. Penny, emboldened and blazing with force and fury, rocketed in for the finish. That quickly, the match was about to end, and what an upset it would be!

---

---

C A L A M I T Y

C H A P T E R: 2

Then, perhaps a couple of feet in front of the Perrenchwoman, an aberration appeared. She could not stop on time.

The results were... devastating.

The sickening black energy flowed in through every orifice. Penny arched her back and screamed. After a moment, she collapsed to the ground, writhing, smoking, and twitching. Her features distorted and she began to blacken and harden.

Ciro Volta, in the stands, narrowed his eyes and smiled. "That's what happens when you fuck with my people," he mouthed in Revidian, neither seen nor heard by any. Yet, Xiuyang stood frozen in the arena, trembling. "What... the fuck?!" Her eyes widened as she watched her friend writhe in agony.

Roslyn's form jerked up at seeing the aberration. "PENNY!" She started moving through the stands toward the arena. Niallus straightened in his seat, surprised that an aberration had turned up in the middle of the fight. "Unexpected…" He murmured to himself, already suspecting foul play.

Then, Penny straightened as well, all at once and unnaturally, as if a puppet on strings. Her eyes were as black as crude oil. She jerked spastically and it was clear that she could see nothing.

Esmii, like many others, bolted to her feet. Her eyes widened with fear, hearing and seeing Penny's pain. "PENNY!"

Juulet perked up. Then, she stared at the Fait Accompli stands.

Ciro nodded in her direction. He made a small gesture - one known to Revidians and some yasoi from well-to-do families: 'Let's talk,' it said.

Still stunned, Xiuyang shook herself out of it enough to look around for the source of the aberration, obviously concerned that more might appear. She was puzzled to find none.

Ciro was not finished. He bolted from his seat. "Zenos,” he demanded, “stop this madness!"

"Did that Revidian girl just try to kill the Perrench girl with an Aberration?" asked a voice in the crowd.

"The Revidians are trying to cheat us Pentad-fearing Perrench again!? That Merchant girl had the one in the stupid hat on the ropes!"

Ciro glanced about. "If there is one aberration, there must be more!" he shouted. His face and bearing burned with concern. Juulet just canted her head, eyes wide and hollow. "Motherfucker." she snorted.

Ingrid, shellshocked from the sight, yelled out to end the match. Secretly, she had theories as to who could do this after such a display of Dark magic. She’d seen it done by Hugo. It was high level stuff and anger began to fill her. Then, however, she had Penny to deal with, who was still - technically - alive. She flailed about in a rage, energy erupting from her in every direction.

"Slippery Eels, all of them!” howled another Perrench voice in the crowd. “What is the Arch-Zeno doing?! They are letting the Revidians off with it again."

Xiuyang stared at Penny, eyes wide and mouth agape. Why hadn't the judges reset her already?! "Stop this!! Please!! She's suffering!! Don't make me kill her!!"

Having no idea who she was attacking, Penny let out a massive, flattening gravity burst.

Roslyn was rising, ready to do something, though she wasn’t sure what. Ready to intervene, perhaps. "Rose, stop! If you get hurt in there you won't come back,” warned Esmii. “We need to get the Zenos to get off their butts and do something. If you get hurt Penny won't forgive herself." She grabbed Roslyn’s arm, her eyes in tears.

Ciro, having also seen Roslyn running for the arena, rushed over to stop her. "No!" he shouted, grabbing her about the waist. "No! You're not anchored. Don't throw your life away!" He shook his head frantically. "We need a bunch of us - now - to go up to that fucking booth and shake the idiots in charge out of their stupor."

Her actions had not gone unnoticed by others, as well. "Sit down you stupid girl, you will get yourself killed if you go in there,” a commoner shouted towards Roslyn.

Niallus had managed to catch up to them, but he didn’t wait to catch his breath. "I agree. This is way out of our hands. Probably best to start getting some people out of here. We can go to the Zenos."

When Esmii gripped her arm, Roslyn smacked it away, only to feel Ciro stop her. "Do you fucking think they will do anything?” She whirled on the spot, taking in Niallus as well. “I don't. We have to go get her: students, not a Zeno." Her voice was angry and bitter.

Zarina, on the other hand, had left for a couple of minutes, but all of the yelling and outcries had grabbed her attention, bringing her back to the stands. "What the fuck?" She joined Yuliya. "... It's not even Ingrid causing the mess, seriously what the fuck?"

Tyrel was last to reach Roslyn. She hurried up, out of breath, but her approach differed from that of her peers. "Rosy, go in there,” she agreed, against their wisdom. “I'll anchor you temporally. Get blown up. Make your statement. You’ll come back."

Roslyn had stopped for a moment at Tyrel’s words. She blinked. Then, what the yasoi had just said registered in earnest. She nodded, "That's the only way to stop this. Let's do it." In response, Tyrel reached out with Temporal and... well, Roslyn felt nothing different, in fact. The tall yasoi nodded. "You're good, suunei. Stay strong."

Roslyn wouldn't lie that she was terrified when she pushed past her friends and deeper into the crowd. However, the idea of her friends ripping each other apart terrified her more. Her feet carried her fast toward the arena as the combatants continued. It was time to make a statement that none could ignore, that would stop this madness. That’s what this was.

There were other statements being made, however. The Perrench were winning despite what they were already characterizing as the Revidians’ failed attempt to cheat. They started singing Green Perrence, waving flags in the stands. Little bouts of shoving started up between Perrench and Revidian supporters. The Hooligans were coming out of the woodwork.

Desmond was not one of them but, for all that he was usually keenly observant, he held perhaps too rosy a view of the escalating situation. He looked on at the match. Even with everything, all the woes, cries, and worry, he watched believing that the zenos didn't need to do anything. The match could conclude itself and then be fixed.

He was right to a degree. There was still a fight happening, after all, and Ingrid was about to get flattened. Guy had hobbled her escape and there was nothing - even with Xiuyang's help - that she could do to stop what was coming.

"If she is to be humiliated and this intense agony, I will not let her pain go to waste," the Perrenchman claimed. While it pained him to do so, he wasn't willing to let the moment slip. Penny had wanted so badly to win and this and, even if it was the product of treachery and morally wrong, her sudden burst of power gave them a chance.

"It's not about that!” Ingrid retorted. “More than my pride, more than my flag, I will not let the suffering this match caused be for nothing. Look at what this has done! Leave the arena and they will reset!" Penny sent her flying with an explosive burst of anti-gravity and it was all she could do to stay within the arena. Xiuyang had to intervene to help her.

---

---

T R A F I Q U É !

C H A P T E R: 3

Yet, they were no longer the arena’s only fight. "The Revidians are interfering again,” came shouts in Perrench. “They don't want us in the finals! They are rigging it!"

"Le Jeux sont trafiqués!" Came multiple responses. "Trafiqué!!" It began to turn into a chant. "Trafiqué!!"

"Revidiens, lâches! La déception ne vaut pas l'honneur d'un guerrier." Another Perrenchman shouted urgently. "Trafiqué!!"

Yvain was among the angry Perrench, and he began to draw in an immense amount of energy. "What a horrid act." He spat on the ground. "To think the Revidians would make such mockery of a honourable duel." All around him, they were throwing fists and debris. Some had begun throwing magic. He would not let this go unpunished.

"Shit." Zarina realized what was happening a bit late, given she hadn’t been in the stands initially, but she had to act. "Yuli, Miret, we can't just let these dumbasses kill each other." and so, Zazzy went on to play riot cop. Miret, beneath her wide-brimmed hat, leapt into action. She had her orders.

Yuli's eyes glossed over in horror. She'd become strong, but taking in something of that density on the fly.. well.. was she going to die? Was this going to be a re-do? What were the Zenos playing at? If they wouldn't do anything, and Zazzy wanted to, then she would.

"Then we try, Zazzy. Me and you, just like old times." she said, twirling the hammer in her hand.
Zarina beamed at her friend. "Like old times." This was, at the very least, going to be a bonding experience. "Just don't hammer the idiots too hard." she added right as they were about to tackle an increasingly violent pile.

Then, from the upper bowl of the stands, a Perrench girl named Madeleine dropped. It happened so quickly that she could not catch herself with magic. Instead, she fell thirty feet onto the concrete below and landed with a sickening ‘thunk’. She lay there broken. Not so very far away, Esmii witnessed it all, and she quickly rushed over. "Someone follow me!" The moment that reached the scene, she ran a quick assessment: neck broken, three ribs, collarbone, punctures lung, faint pulse. She set right to healing. "Please, nobody interfere!” she shouted, as Niallus followed, standing watch. “I'm here to help.” She turned to the gravely wounded girl, speaking to her even though she was unconscious. “I'm going to heal you now. It’s going to be okay." She may have been saying it as much for herself as she was for her patient.

Xiuyang's eyes widened as she realized that she had chosen to defend Ingrid instead of leaving the arena immediately. Guy... was right. The Zenos were at fault, but so was she. She was no better than anyone else present. Tears welled up in her eyes. "My future... hangs on this tournament. I didn't think…! I..." her face twisted as she turned away from Guy, sobbing.

Ingrid was busy fighting off a massive gravitational implosion with all of her considerable might. Then, Roslyn, out of nowhere, breached the combat area and placed herself between Ingrid and Penny, desperate to forestall the violence. "Penny, stop! Please!" she shouted, but it was so sudden and Penny was so mad and…

She took the brunt of it. The girl was utterly obliterated. All about the arena, the sounds of shouting and chants momentarily trailed off. There were gasps and murmurs.

Then, however, Penny set her ire upon Xiuyang. With an animalistic screech that set her throat raw, she hurtled forward.

Yet there was another crisis in the stands and Esmii was hard at work. Finally, Madeleine rose unsteadily, healed. "Faites attention, levez-vous lentement et levez-vous. Moi allons vous aider à sortir d'ici." She offered the girl her hands. Yvain, however, did not take a message of healing and love from the encounter. "This shall not go unpunished,” he promised darkly, “mark my words."

"That’s my friend! Oprahe! They tried to kill her!" A second girl named Yvette shouted from nearby, tears streaming down her face as she tried to make her way over. She was, at best, an acquaintance of his from a respectable merchant family. Yvain was in his wroth, now, though. His eyes then wandered towards the Enthish girl who had interfered. "To think even that girl would dishonour Penny like this." Then turned back towards Yvette. "If there will be another horrid act, I shall interfere myself."

Juulet, watching the chaos unfold, had no horse in this race, but how heated it had become. Her eyes sparkled with dark intent as she considered joining. Desmond, however, looked on in silence. He was not a Lamplighter this year. They had not wanted such an abrasive force dealing with nobles. Often, he had butted heads with other Lamplighters and been reprimanded for 'excessive' force. This time, he stayed his hand. He watched in silence, the fighting around him. He had never been a nationalist, so such strong sentiments were alien. He was not a guard, so he had no duty. He sat and watched as those with the power to kill in their very bones pushed and strained at each other.

Ciro, Niallus, and a handful of others had made their way to the Zenos' box and demanded to be let in. They hammered on the door of the Zenos' booth, sensing movement within. The crowd was beginning to rise again.

"Who is judging this match? Hugo?! Why won't the Academy do anything!"

"Let's break down this door." Niallus decided, with simple resolve.

"You will do nothing of the sort!" came the voice of Alassa Tojarra. She burst through the door with two Torragonese and one Kerreman zeno in tow. "We shall intervene in this madness at once!"

Niallus leapt back as the door almost hit him. The Arch-Zeno burst through and all he could do was watch as she and her three escorts marched through the crowd, roughly shoving anyone who interfered with their progress out of the way.

"Trust it to be the Central Alliance Arch to be overseeing the match. They were allowing this!" Fingers pointed towards them. "Trafiqué!" came the shouts and it burgeoned, once more into a chant. Chants of "TRAFIQUE!" rained down with increasing volume. The good work of some neutral or responsible students seemed to have quelled the most direct and brazen outbreaks of violence, but this was still an utter powder keg. "L'hai incastrata!!" The Revidians shouted into the gaps, somewhat outnumbered but trying to start a chant of their own.

Trypano was not one of the Revidians in question, however. She had initially opted not to bother watching after the dejection of her recent loss. What will be will be, she had told herself. Unable to quell her curiosity, however, she had rushed back to the stadium sidelines to take in the growing tumult. She could hardly sort the chaos going on at this point. "Well…” she remarked cryptically to herself, “How 'bout that?"

Fiske was among the crowd and he just stared as well, transfixed until he could no longer resist the opportunity for mockery. "Ooooh, the stern hag appeared. Wonder what the legendary eyepatch puta will do!"

Things were happening so quickly that she couldn’t register them. Ingrid was, quite frankly, in shock. Who was that random girl who’d taken the blow for her? What the hell was going on in the stands!? It didn't matter, she counseled herself. She would thank the girl later. She would figure things out later. Don't lose focus on the fight, she reminded herself. Survive and get Xuiyang out. She's not doing well.

It was at around that moment that her saviour - Roslyn - quietly and suddenly reappeared in the stands from where she'd been anchored. To the thousands in the stadium, she was dead and the school had let it happen. It didn't matter that, in truth, she wasn't. Roslyn's eyes blinked as she shook her head, clearing the sense of oddness in her memory. The last thing she recalled was being temporarily anchored. The rest was a blur. "Really not sure temporal stuff agrees with me..." she mumbled, still trying to get her bearings. Her eyes turned to the arena, though, witnessing her friends still fighting. She caught a glimpse of her own small, fragile body flickering on the ground. Sprays of blood decorated the slightly raised platform and her still corpse. Then it vanished.

There was still a fight to be decided. Ingrid managed not to lose herself in the moment. She sighed and went to grab Xuiyang, "Come on, I know you didn't do this. We're in the top ten no matter what outcome. They'll reset everything and it will be fine." But there was no peaceful resolution to be had. Penny launched herself at Xiuyang, and the Revidian reacted instinctively, even strengthening her defense with forbidden blood magic. It felt odd to her that she’d spent even a quarter of a second worrying about being caught, considering the chaos around her.

"The Revidian girl just used Blood Magic!” came a shout, “I saw her! Trafiqué!"

"Trafiqué!!!"

"WHAT?! She did?! It doesn't surprise me!"

Yuli and Zarina were among the peacekeepers. The former looked at the latter, and then at the Arch-Zeno. Was she supposed to save the crowd? These worthless lives, fanning the flames of patriotism and war, using her friend for bloodsport? Was she supposed to feel empathy for reckless idiots who jumped into the firing line of a deathmatch with no consequences? Because she felt nothing but scorn and hatred towards the Zenos who had let this happen. Why was the match still ongoing? Why had it not been stopped the moment that aberration appeared!?

"Zazzy... is this a joke by the staff? Did they do this?" she asked, her teeth grit and her eyes showing an increasing unhinged mindset towards the series of events. She was not alone. “No!!” Tku wailed from nearby, in abject terror. “I’m not Belzaggic! I’m not Joruban! Ipte no! I’ve got too much left to do!”

Others kept more level heads. "Ciro, is it?" Said Niallus. "Let's see if we can try to calm this crowd." Yet, Xiuyang’s use of blood magic had stirred them up again. "I saw her use Demon Magic! Trafiqué!!"

"Lying Perrench pig! God forbid a Revidian defends herself from an aberration-mad monster!"

"How is it lying if you just admitted to her using it in defense! You Slimy Eels!"

"Trafiqué!!"

Ciro nodded. "It is,” he replied over the shouts. “You're Niallus, right?" Then, someone noticed his Revidian accent. Before Niallus could answer, a lightning bolt came straight for his ally’s head. Ciro was able to catch and deflect some of it, but he spasmed and stumbled. “Cazzo!” he cursed, dazed and shaking. “Who did that!?” Niallus roared. “Did anyone see!?” He began gathering his considerable power. Yet all this did was make him a target for another element of the mob. "Eskandr traitor!!" roared another Eskandishman. "Why are you protecting the enemy!?"

Niallus was shocked that a fellow Eskandr had called him a traitor "I'm no traitor! This student was just attacked amongst this chaos. We don't know what's happening so how can we cast blame!?"

"Look at that Eskandr,” came a distant voice, “He just attacked the Revidian! " In the confusion, a couple of hands pointed accusingly in his direction. This was madness. Sheer madness.

"Go eat some pizza!" the first Eskandr bellowed. "Green inside!" he snarled. "Green inside!" another joined in. "He's not 'another student'. He's Revidian! How can you forget what they did to us!?"

Niallus felt like raising his voice in response, but refrained from doing so. "I am no Traitor. Right now it's best to get people who cannot fend for themselves."

The other two Eskandr spat at his feet, turned their backs on him, and walked away.

Down in the arena, yet one more Eskandr, Ingrid, finally grabbed hold of Xiuyang, She was nearly attacked out of shock, but she managed to snap her partner out of her panic. "You're right,” Ingrid shouted over the chaos, “we run!" Together, they fled, attempting to escape Penny.

"Trafiqué!"

"Trafiqué! Trafiqué!!" It reverberated around the arena.

"Bugiardi!"

"Bugiardi!" Now came the Revidian response, until thousands of Perrench and Sovereign Pact boos rained down to drown the Revidians and their allies out.

"Tra-fi-qué!”

"Couldn't even look dirtier even if they tried! Slime all over it."

"Look at the Revidians trying to slip out of it!"

One, however, was doing no such thing. Trypano’s eyes watched keenly. Leaning against a stone wall with her arms crossed, her hat was canted low, her small effort to keep a low profile while she sussed out the moving pieces of this powderkeg puzzle.

Desmond, as well, had been pointedly avoidant of the conflict. He'd seen too much war already in his young life. "Goddamned dove, sitting there like you don't even care!" shouted an angry Enthishman nearby. "That Perrench bitch just blew up our countrywoman and you're gonna just sit there!?"

Raffaella tugged on Desmond's arm. "Des'm, let's leave! I'm scared!"

Desmond's head turned slowly towards his antagonist, looking at the man with apathy. "What? You gonna go down there and get yourself killed by giving her a piece of your mind? You're gonna blame the cannonier when someone steps in the way of the cannon?" He began to get up as he said, "By the way, if you really cared, you can see her over there. Your 'countrywoman' is fine".

He nodded in Raffaella’s direction. "Yeah, let's go before it gets dangerous".

---

---

C R U S H E D

C H A P T E R: 4

There was another solution in the offing, however. Asier, usually known as Ayla, attempted to use his shadowspeaker abilities to alter the crowd’s mood. Anything was better than this! Tku had gathered himself just enough to put his trump card, the Primordial Banana, to use. Ridiculous as it may have appeared, it was an item of incredible power, capable of broadcasting his ally’s soothing sound.

Only, that was not what came out. While nothing reached the furthest sections of the arena, and only apathy reached those closest to the source, a great portion were stirred to terror. Asier, in the fortunate area, felt the apathy himself, or perhaps it was just a knowing fear of what he’d done. He made haste to disappear from the arena.

The decision may have saved him. Massive waves of bodies began moving. The crush of the crowd buffeted some. Others cried out. Some were outright trampled. Screams of pain and terror echoed off of the arena walls. Down below, any semblance of a match had ended with Ingrid and Xiuyang having made it out of the arena, but that was merely the sideshow now. The Arch-Zeno unceremoniously splattered Penny across half of the arena "THIS MATCH HAS BEEN SUSPENDED!!" her voice boomed over the chaos. Alassa Tojarra and the perimeter of three zenos around her attempted to regain control as, moments later, Penny found herself ripped back to her temporal anchor. She crumbled therein the tunnel to the arena, uncomprehending of any of the chaos. "What... what the hell!?" It enveloped her, though, inescapably, and her eyes widened in confusion and terror.

Tku’s terror was not so organic, at least at first, but his shadowspeaker-derived fear soon turned into a relapse of trauma as all he could remember was the hundreds dead in An Zenui. Over and over he saw it. So many injured! Some dead, surely. He gathered himself as a healer. Fortunately, he was not alone.

It was an all too familiar sight. Pandemonium, panic and injuries abound. It was no pitched battle, not yet, but emotions often ran hot and blood not long after. Trypano began to move out, traveling like a red shadow as she sought out the injured amongst the chaos.

Zarina lent her skills as well, focusing on her Sovereign Pact allies. Penny rose, still dazed and confused, understanding nothing except that there were people to heal. Tku rushed over to the first person he sensed as dead. Some were already too far gone for him. He shut out whatever it was that he felt at the sight and simply moved on to the next ones to save.

Esmii, Abdel, Marceline, and a half-dozen others set to work as well. Even Juulet appeared to help. Xiuyang collected herself and managed to heal two badly maimed Revidians and a couple other Central Alliance victims before a crowd of angry Perrenchmen overran her, forcing her to retreat. She ran into Ciro during her flight, himself slightly injured, and healed him as well.

---

---

D E L I V E R A N C E ?

C H A P T E R: 5

Then, portals opened and they arrived: the academy's binders and enforcers by the dozen. Bells in the village nearby chimed urgently. Powerful kinetic magics swept across the crowd, dampening sound and movement where needed and amplifying it where needed. "This match has been suspended," Alassa Tojarra proclaimed. "The ingestion of an aberration is against school policy and will result in the disqualification of the team of Penny Pellerin and Guy Attard."

Yet, this moment of authority, that should have been reassuring, couldn’t help but ring hollow. A dozen or so brave students had already stepped up, risking their own wellbeing to heal the dozens of gravely injured. While two had proven beyond saving and two others - a Perrench calligrapher named Eloise Desrochers and a Huulisch postal runner named Leike van de Hoek - had been maimed beyond repaid, losing a forearm and a leg, respectively, almost all had been saved.

Now, there was only a stunned silence that prevailed. It took a moment for the Arch-Zeno's words to sink in. It took a moment for the murmurs to start, and then to rise to exclamations, and then to peak as angry shouts. The teams of Tan-Zenos attempted to drown them out, but now the students fought back. It was not the Revidians who were their enemy, it was, inescapably, the academy. The noise burst through and it was deafening.

Garbage, fruit, and food were hurled Alassa Tojarra's way. They burned up as soon as they reached her blazing aura, but they continued to rain down anyhow. "Should we simply disregard decades of school policy because the student concerned is Perrench!?" she shouted over the ruckus. A hornet's nest had been kicked and there was no un-kicking it now.
.
Sienna Afraval, part of the Arch-Zeno's inner circle, went so far as to take her by the arm and pull her aside. "Señora Tojarra," she said quickly and quietly, "I think you should reconsider your verdict. Take note, I beg you, of the situation."

"Justice for Fiske'n'Chips!"

"Trafiqué!"

"Perrence denied victory through Revidian Blood Magic!"

"Outrage! Ce trafique des jeux ne cesse de continuer!" shouted one. "Neutre mon cul, ouais!"

"One's left to wonder how an aberration even got there in the first place!" Juulet spoke, appearing suddenly from a teleport. Her hands and cheeks were smeared with blood from the first responding she had been doing. "First in the derby, and now in a highly supervised, temporally anchored arena watched by thousands ..." she shrugged with the biggest shit eating smile on her face. "I dunno, sounds like there's a bigger issue here than your chickenshit rules."

"You claim to apply the rules yet you disregard someone more powerful than you breaking them!" He looked at Juulet. "Why do you claim to uphold rules when you are so clearly bias" Guy yelled out to the arch Zeno.

But Alassa was a hard woman, veteran of multiple wars, and unflinchingly patriotic. She had given an eye for her country. "But they broke the rules," she responded to Sienna, not directly addressing the youths. "Simple as. Should we ignore policy? It was unfortunate that an aberration appeared but the Perrench girl didn't stop. She hurtled right through it and attacked viciously!"

Sienna's eyes flared. "I most strongly request that you reconsider, señora."

Tojarra turned her nose away. "Absurd! This was an act of the gods and, while unfortunate, I will not have the rules disregarded."

"She tried to stop!" Sienna retorted, reaching for the Arch-Zeno, voice raised.

Alassa Tojarra wound up and backhanded Sienna Afraval across the face. "Do not dare speak to your superior in such a manner, child!"

Sienna's head whipped around with the impact, but then she rebounded immediately, the air burning with power around her. "YOU DARE STRIKE ROYALTY, SERVANT!? BOW AND DO PENANCE OR I SHALL HAVE YOUR OFFENDING HAND REMOVED FOR TREASON!"

Boos and cheers rained down from every direction and, of course, those ever-present chants of “Trafiqué!” Even some of the peacemakers, like Esmii, joined in. Others, like Trypano, not about to fall into the trap of braying nationalism, set themselves to the task of clearing the arena and de-escalating the hovering threat of violence. Still others, like Fiske, were plenty happy to watch the strong bicker, their veneer of superiority removed.

"Reconsidera Señora!" A Torragonese shout went out, "Posponer el partido". It was accompanied by cheers of "Señora!"

Xiuyang stood helpless, frozen, watching the situation that was, from her perspective, her fault, continue to escalate. She wanted to tug on Ciro's sleeve and urge him that they should both escape... but if they did, they'd look like the guilty party for certain. Ciro, still somewhat overwhelmed himself, held her close. "Gods, this is insanity." He shook his head. "How!?" He breathed a couple of times. "Why!?" He turned to her. "I'm so sorry, bella: so sorry this had to happen to you." He appeared to be holding back tears, but he maintained a stiff upper lip.

Ingrid had little to say, this felt PURPOSEFULLY orchestrated for war. She could feel the fear rolling off of Xuiyang, and how couldn't it? So, Ingrid stood next to her. "We'll get out of here okay, you'll be fine. I'll do my best."

---

---

A R B I T E R

C H A P T E R: 6

It was at that moment that Joshe Intaba appeared. "STAND DOWN!" he bellowed, and the two women, a hair away from physical conflict, turned abruptly and bowed their heads. He raised his arms for silence, taking a moment to glower down at his subordinates and shake his head in disgust. "People of Ersand'Enise, people of Joru. I ask for your silence so that we might make sense of this calamity." He sighed, perhaps unintentionally, and for a moment, he seemed every one of his sixty-odd years.

Guy caught his tongue, he may not have agreed with the one-eyed Zeno, but Intaba had been an avowed neutral since long before Guy was born. He held his opinion out of respect. Niallus, Roslyn, and Esmii, as well, turned to listen as the booming voice echoed across the arena.

Yvain remained disgusted, however, and skeptical. To think the Centrals would use an event blessed by Echeran to slander the good name of his people. It was appalling for an Arch-Zeno, of all people, to be this blatantly biased.

Intaba loomed, his presence somehow larger than his physical form, and people waited for the response. Quietly, glancing up at the senior Arch-Zeno, Tojarra opened her mouth to speak. "I..” She paused. “I was merely doing -"

"You have done quite enough," he snapped, cutting her off. This was it, then: the world aflame, or it would be soon if vicious imbeciles like this prevailed. "For someone who is supposed to govern with prudence and good sense. You dishonor your title and the academy." He had enough respect to drop a sonic bubble around the two of them, shooting some of the nearby youths a warning look as if to say, 'I am handling this.'

Trypano was relieved to see some measure of authority exert order over the chaos. She waited by, biding time to see if this event would disperse peacefully or if more aid would need to be rendered. There was faith in Joshe's abilities and wisdom but less so in the crowd and the number of violent sociopaths who may use this as a tool to provoke more harm and chaos.

Commentary, of course, continued: “We’ll see who’s really in control now.”

"Did the Torragonese Zenos get hot-headed? Well, ain't I the colour of surprise."

Joshe Intaba’s disgust for this sort of thing ran deep and profound: fools climbing over each other like crabs in a bucket, poisoned drinks and tongues like blades, entire nations baying for blood, wanton in their willingness to throw sapient lives away for... He didn't understand it. He never would.

The crowd, aside from those few stray shouts and ever-present rumble of animated discussion, had at least quieted somewhat.

"If I ask a Perrenchman what happened here," Intaba began, "he will tell me what he believes to be true." He shook his head. "If I ask a Revidian what happened here, he will tell a different truth." He shook his head, addressing those gathered. "I am not interested in opinions," he continued. "I am interested in evidence and in justice."

There came more scattered shouts from the crowd: "What evidence!?"

"Who's justice!?"

"Where are the Perrench Zenos!?"

It simmered, ready to boil again soon.

"I shall ask the principals in this match to step forward," Intaba commanded.

"The Perrench girl was about to win, that is what happened!" called another.

"What-a you saying?! Da Revidian hat girl was-a da true weiner!" a stereotypically Revidian man gestured aggressively at the Perrench, but it did not hold the humour it normally might’ve.

Ingrid stepped up as requested of her. She was ready to state what she saw and, of course, she offered a bow to Intaba.

"Ciro," Xiuyang breathed, terrified. Reluctantly, she let go of him and followed Ingrid to the arena.
He looked on glumly for a moment before forcing a smile. "You did nothing wrong and they will know it," he assured her.

Guy laid down his spear and instructed his animals to stay. He stepped up and greeted the zeno with a bow.

Niallus watched as Xiuyang and Ingrid stepped forward. He was curious about what was about to happen next. He looked over to Ciro who was looking a bit better. As soon as she was gone, the Revidian felt a series of pinches behind his ear. He watched Xiuyang walk up with an anxious expression on his face. Nervously, absentmindedly, he turned his collar over and a silver rose appeared.

Penny was kneeling beside a Huulisch girl who had lost a leg and was inconsolable, trying to tell her that it would be alright and using herself as an example. Yet, Penny had never lost a leg, not in the true sense. Reluctantly, she rose and joined the others, bowing respectfully.

"What about the Enthish girl who interfered? She was even anchored!"

A few others took up that refrain and Intaba, far from being high-handed, acknowledged the issue and nodded, beckoning Roslyn to come up to the stage.

Enthish... Suddenly, Xiuyang recalled the image of someone standing in the path of Penny's attack. "Roslyn..?!" she breathed, whipping around and searching the crowd. Roslyn gave an uncomfortable smile as she looked at Xiuyang, letting the woman see she was still in one piece. She tensed and inhaled as she stepped up.

"As you can see," the Arch-Zeno addressed the students, "this has become far more than just a match in a game. Does anyone disagree?"

In the crowd, a particularly loud section of Perrench began chanting once again. "Trafiqué! Trafiqué!"

"Where are the Perrench Zenos!?" they demanded.

Ciro fixed his lapel again. Meanwhile, a yasoi, perhaps just a bit too old to be a student, approached the cluster of angry Perrench.

"No, Arch-Zeno," Ingrid was quick to say. "No, Arch-Zeno," Xiuyang agreed with Ingrid in solidarity. She was still shaking. Guy kept his hands behind his back and shook his head in agreement. There would be a time to speak and it was not now.

Penny shook her head reluctantly at the Arch-Zeno's question. She glanced about. "Sadly, I was anchored and I don't know what happened." This was bad. She had done something, or someone else had, and it could start a world war. She worked hard to hold back tears. "I am so very sorry if I have done something. I can tell you that, if I have, there was no intent! I swear it!"

Joshe Intaba, having seen her shaking her head, ignored the rest of the girl's saccharine plea. Evidence would determine her innocence or guilt, not emotional blackmail.

Intaba nodded, businesslike. "Good, then we have established common ground." He paced back and forth before them as Roslyn arrived. "Now," he continued, pivoting to face the youths, "does anyone here actively wish for a war to happen?"

Yet, while the Arch-Zeno worked in his way, a handful of students tried to solve the mystery on their own. Niallus pulled out his compass of want, hoping to see if it could point at the person who was responsible for this disaster. This was a crowded place, though. Accuracy would be hard. He whispered his thoughts aloud to it and the compass spun about, trying to settle on a single point. It paused in a few places, whipping and whizzing about behind its glass cover. Then, it settled unerringly on a single person: Alassa Tojarra.

Tku covertly put the banana to his ear and whispered, "ring ring, Guilty party says what?" The idea of guilt was terribly unspecific, though. Hundreds of people in the crowd heard an unfamiliar voice accusing them of guilt.

Niallus stood there in shock, however. He looked at what his compass pointed too. "No fucking way...." He shook the device, wondering if it pointed at the wrong person. Acquiescing, it seemed to point, momentarily, at Xiuyang. That was impossible, though, so he wondered if it was unable to find the person. He tried once more, focusing specifically on his desire to find the person responsible for creating the aberration that had started all of this. The compass spun again. For an extended moment, it appeared to point right back at Niallus himself, but people were speaking now and it would’ve been rude to look away.

"No sir, never," Xiuyang answered Arch-Zeno Intaba quickly, nearly out of turn. Ciro had stepped back from her a bit, meanwhile, standing instead behind Niallus, not quite able to watch. Everything about his bearing bled anxiety as he glanced her way.

"I wish for my nation's honour to be preserved, and..." Penny breathed. "Mine as well, but I would greatly prefer it not be done at the cost of lives."

"I do not wish for war, I wish for respect to our great nation," Guy answered concisely. He was ready and willing to go to war, but to actively wish for it? He wasn’t that bloodthirsty.

This was a big ask of Ingrid, one that would label her as a traitor. And so she did, "I do not want war," Ingrid responded. She glanced over to the Eskandish side for their reaction. Fortunately, there was little reaction aside from a handful of sighs and annoyed looks. The Eskandr knew well how to play the greenlanders' game these days. She had simply said what they wanted fo her, of course!

Joshe Intaba nodded at the four youths before him. "Not all sentiments that I agree with necessarily, but reasonable enough." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Now, we have two common planks to stand on, so let us get to the bottom of this in good faith, hmm?"

Still curious about the sudden turn, and alarmed at the compass pointing to him, Niallus wondered if something or someone was behind him, so he waited as long as he could and, the very moment that Intaba was done speaking, he whirled about. There was nobody to be seen and his compass seemed to be struggling once more, its needle swinging wildly back and forth between south and east, never settling on one spot. Frustrated, he gave up his efforts for now.

Intaba had asked a question, however, and Penny nodded deferentially at the Arch-Zeno. Had she done this? Was she capable of doing it?

Guy nodded. He kept to himself still, though Penny's obvious nerves weakened his resolve. He wanted to reassure her that it wasn't her but emotion played no role here.

"Tell me, without opinion and only out of factual remembrance, where did the aberration appear and what were you doing at that moment." The Arch-Zeno's voice was stern but far from hostile.

"It appeared between me and Penny. She was attacking; I was about to defend," Xiuyang recalled blankly.

Penny shook her head. "I am sorry, Arch-Zeno, I was -"

He held a hand up for silence. "You have already said so. Once was enough."

She bowed her head, chagrined. Please let it not have been me, she repeated in her head. Please let it not have been me. She wouldn't have done it intentionally. It would've had to be planned and she had no such remembrances.

Ingrid gave her account, "I had initiated infinity loop and was preparing to defend us from their assault. Then, a large aberration appeared in front of Penny mid hop."

Guy went last, "I was communicating with my Rosy thresher to launch a combined attack with my teammate. I saw the same as the other two." Guy nodded in agreement. "However," he added, "My rosy thresher was in greyspace at the time and indicated a disturbance in the space. I'm no master on the matter so interpret that however you see appropriate, Arch-Zeno."

Joshe Intaba smiled tightly. "That is worthwhile information." He nodded. Then, it was time for Roslyn's questioning. "You were temporarily anchored," he stated. "Who did it?"

Meanwhile, that loud group of Perrench nationalists had gone somewhat quieter. They dispersed through the crowd.

Roslyn bit her lip and glanced in Tyrel's direction instinctively. She hoped it wouldn't get anyone in trouble as she answered honestly: "Tyrel."

He pursed his lips. "Tyrel is a common yasoi name. Are you referring to Tyrel'yrash'dichora, the Tarlonese candidate for Avatar of Reshta?"

"Yes," Her hand tightened about her other arm, regretting her decision. "However, I asked her to."

Heads began to turn Tyrel's way, at least those who had been able to find her. The tall yasoi stood out among a crowd of mostly humans.

"Pellerin, you are dismissed," said Intaba.

"Dichora, you are summoned."

Joshe Intaba glanced at Xiuyang. "From your limited knowledge of the situation, was there any reason for Ms. Pellerin to have intentionally taken in an aberration capable of causing her to go mad?"

"No. She was already moving too fast. It was unavoidable," Xiuyang replied.

Tyrel took the long and lonely walk up. When Chad moved to go with her, he was barred from doing so by the Zenos. She knew he could've likely killed them, but that would only make everything worse on so many levels. Her heart was hammering the entire way. Penny, who had been sent to a stool just off to the side, shot her an anxious, thankful look.Tyrel nodded in return.

Intaba turned, now, to Guy. "Do you concur that this was unavoidable?"

"I do," Guy stated. As long as blame was not going to be shifted onto Penny, then Guy was happy with the outcome. She didn't deserve this.

The Arch-Zeno glanced at Ingrid. "Based on what you know of body language and expression, did she appear surprised?"

"Based on the vivid expression Penelope normally gives, I believe she was blindsided by it," Ingrid answered.

Penny managed a small, sad smile at the observation.

"I didn't see her face," Xiuyang admitted. She was, however, vividly remembering the face of agony she made afterward. Xiuyang shivered.

"There is a spell, at high enough levels of Dark Magic, that allows one to create an aberration." He turned to Tyrel'yrash. "Miss Dichora, you are a dark mage. Is this a spell that you know?"

Tyrel swallowed. For a second, her fight or flight response pricked. She could see clearly what the yanii were trying to do now. They were going to pin this on her and on the Tarlonese. She narrowed her eyes. She could not fight this monster and win: not even her. "I am a novice with the spell, but I know it enough to attempt it." The moment that she spoke, she regretted it. That had sounded like an evasive, defensive answer.

"What is your relationship to Miss Solari?" the Arch-Zeno asked.

Tyrel glanced Xiuyang's way. She shrugged tightly. "I consider her a friend: a new one, but a friend." She forced herself to hold her head high. If this is how I die, subject to false yanii justice, then I must do it with dignity, as a symbol. There was only duty now.

However, Intaba turned back to Xiuyang and Ingrid. "Young ladies, is there anyone else that you are aware of, who might be able to use such an advanced and forbidden spell?"

Ingrid collected who she believed capable of doing it and she didn't like the conclusion. "If shown, I could replicate the spell. And I believe Ciro may be capable of it as well. I could not say others as I do not know who was present for the fight." Ingrid answered honestly. She knew that high level mages could wipe memories. What if they could read them too?

Xiuyang thought long and hard. She knew several students who had dark magic, but she couldn't conjure up any mental images of someone pulling an aberration from the VOID. She barely understood the concept behind the magic, only that it was forbidden. Xiuyang seemed surprised at Ingrid's assertion that she and Ciro could probably do it.

He turned to Guy. "Would Miss Dichora have any reason, based on your experience, to wish to intervene in this match to save Miss Solari or to sabotage Miss Pellerin?" He motioned Penny back as well.

Penny glanced at Guy and motioned for him to speak before her. "I do not know of any reason,” he replied. “From what I have picked up, Miss Dichora is neutral at worst with them. I would even say there may be a friendship that Miss Dichora has with them." Guy answered honestly.

"On why she let Roslyn in, I can only imagine it was to protect one of them after the incident."

Xiuyang shook her head in disbelief. She couldn't believe that Tyrel would do it. She had no motive, as far as she could tell. She hadn't even shared her concerns about her father possibly pulling her from Ersand'Enise. Only Maura and Roslyn knew, and neither were dark mages.

Up in the stands, Miret was furious. "They're trying to pin it on her!" she snapped, glancing over at Zarina with anxious, fiery eyes. "They're trying to pin it on us because we're a target of convenience!" Zarina scooted over to her and reached for her head before leaning into her and whispering. "Don't do anything rash," she said whilst eyeing the whole situation. "Intaba's not one to do that from what my mother told me last year. But ..." she swallowed, looking a tad anxious herself. "Without the real culprit, your fears might come true."

Down below, Penny swallowed as well. "Tyrel and I share... a form of kinship," she admitted, "for obvious reasons." She shrunk back a bit. "Me and... Miss Solari are... not friends, but I don't think -"

Then, there was chaos.

---

---

L I O N ' S F A L L

C H A P T E R: 7

A great black bubble of concentrated nothingness descended over Joshe Intaba and the non-Perrench students. The Arch-Zeno attempted to resist it, but he found that he couldn't. That was not often something that happened.

"Xiuyang!" Ciro screamed, seeming to come almost from nowhere as he rushed towards her. She whirled around to face him, eyes filled with horror. She had only just escaped death, and already she faced it again.

Sienna Afraval lent her strength to the effort. Alassa Tojarra lifted a hand and concentrated. Tyrel called upon her considerable abilities in dark magic. Guy focused on something much more important than himself: he had to do his best to get Penny somewhere safe.

Roslyn's eyes widened. "What's going on?"

Penny staggered back, but the bubble didn't seem to be dropping on them. "Do we...?" She trailed off, about to say 'help'.

Ingrid Attempted to copy Intaba's spell to help in the resistance in whatever way she could. "If we can, we should!"

Yuli focused on the nothingness that descended on the arena, and saw her friend still in potential trouble. She didn't give a rat’s ass about the rest of the people in there, but she'd be damned if she watched Penny die in front of her again. Quickly, she drew and focused, attempting to do something she'd done back in Vossoriya: a teleport. She would get her out of harm's way, at the very least.

Then, as Ingrid did whatever she could to add to the resistance, it dropped all of the sudden, trapping those caught inside. It stuck there for the barest of moments before disappearing. There was nothing left in its wake.

"Xiuyang!" Ciro hollered, leaping the barrier and dashing into the arena. He was gently but firmly rebuffed by Alassa Tojarra. He stood there, chest heaving, a trickle of blood dripping from his nose. "Let me through!" he shouted. "There has to be something we can do!"

That same group of Perrench who'd been shouting loudly the entire time began chanting as they spread through the others. "Look!" Ciro roared, amplifying his voice with sonic magic. "The fucking Prenchies are celebrating! How many people have just died and they're fucking celebrating!"

The Revidians erupted.

Alassa Tojarra nodded. "Right," she agreed. "I'll ignore your insolent tone for now because you're right." She shook her head. "Dammit, Joshe. How did you fall for it? This is clearly a Perrench conspiracy." Time passed. Panic began to set in.

"Tyrel!" screamed Chad, and he leapt multiple barriers as he raced towards the arena. He grabbed Juulet's hand. "Come on!"

Juulet blinked. "Uhhhh," not exactly enthused, but she respected the grit. And maybe it was a little more. "'kay, whatever." She went with it. She tightened her grip on his hand, just a little.

Then, in the middle of the arena, for but the barest flicker of time, appeared a dark-robed and masked figure. Only a scant few noticed him, but all felt the colossal crush of magic. Then, it was gone.

The vast black bubble reappeared.

It began to lift and recede.

Abdel squinted and focused hard on the entirety of his range to find anything resembling this gross singularity of power. The sheer shock of such energy was overwhelming, however, and he struggled to sense further. He well remembered the figure, though, brief as its appearance had been. Asier was among those who saw as well, and probably needed to drink the bottle of wine he was going to gift to his cousin, or perhaps simply share it, after witnessing the dark robed figure and the recent events. Fiske's eyes traveled all around the arena to search the figure... Nobody could just appear and disappear like that so suddenly, right?

Then, deliverance! First to crawl out from beneath the receding monstrosity was Ingrid, frantic and bedraggled. She coughed and tried to get away from the circle. A part of her was terrified at what had happened, but the other cursed inwardly for not copying the spell. Dark magic was just… incredible.

Next came Roslyn, diving outwards. When she hit the ground, air rushed from her lungs. She gasped and shook as she struggled to rise.

When Xiuyang crawled out, Ciro ran to her and wasn't prevented from doing so this time. Xiuyang staggered to her feet, checking her body for injuries and missing limbs in a panic. For a moment that seemed to stretch out in a way that defied her sense of time, she had simply ceased to exist. Now, she was here, and Ciro was there, and that was everything she cared to know. She embraced him tightly, sobbing.

He held onto her - small and warm and soft. "It's okay, bella. It's okay. I'm here. You're safe." He stroked her hair. "Don't worry." He could feel her heartbeat against his own. "We'll find who did this later. We'll make them pay but, for now, I'm just glad you're safe. I'm sorry I couldn't do more." He shook his head after kissing the top of hers. "I know a touch of Dark Magic, but whatever this was..." He trailed off, visibly shaken. "It was eons beyond what I could work against.

Sienna Afraval appeared as they embraced, wavering and glassy-eyed, her dignity mostly intact. Only Tyrel and Joshe Intaba were left.

Chad made it to the barrier and leapt it. "Tyrel!" he shouted. "Tyrel is still in there! Let me go get her!"

As if summoned, the yasoi appeared, tumbling out of the shrinking nothing, blackish 'smoke' curling off of her. Chad wrapped her shaken form up immediately and they remained like that.

But there were perpetrators to be dealt with. "Security!" bellowed Arch-Zeno Tojarra, "Arrest those Perrench saboteurs!"

Murmurs passed through the crowd, and a handful of angry shouts. "Perrench saboteurs? Outrageous! It was obviously just a way to further dirty our good name even further." Yvain wished he could do anything against such an injustice... could he handle a corrupt and evil Arch-Zeno like Tojarra? He.. did not wish to try his luck. "Central Alliance bastards..."

The problematic group were dispersed throughout the crowd now, however, and they were not easily rooted out. The Tan-Zenos brushed people aside and marched through, beating any who resisted, but the fight seemed to be leaving those who had formerly been quite feisty.

They simply stood there in bitter stunned silence. They watched as the bubble lifted and shrunk further.

Recovering herself, Ingrid eventually looked around to see that all of them but Intaba had made it out. She stood and stretched, placing the emptiness into the back of her mind. Think, she commanded herself. Think. Think.

A few seconds later she was halfway there. She was okay. Xuiyang was a sobbing mess, though, almost like usual at this point. But at this moment, things felt uneasy to her. It couldn't be over. Things weren't right. Xiuyang was, indeed, too rattled by the complete loss of her senses to even consider taking stock of the situation. She thought herself favorable enough to the gods to not fear death so much, but the nothingness haunted her.

Weeping, Tyrel embraced Chad, and they shared private words. The pair of Tarlonese took a moment to reach for Juulet as well and pull her in. The third yasoi was more than happy to be the third wheel - watch in exaggerated disgust the softness she had wanted to forget. And yet, here she was, dragged in. A typical coping mechanism was to make light of the situation. "Tsk, you Tarlonese dogs and your threesomes ..." she rolled her eyes and then just went with it. Out of obligation, at first, but she soon found the couple to be more comfortable than she had ever imagined. "Are you alright?" she whispered to her Tarlonese counterpart. "I am... as well as I could be, suunei," Tyrel replied. It was not long before Miret was there as well and all were reunited. Zarina, meanwhile, was the third wheel or, in this case, that one Yanii. She kept her distance, looked around with her arms crossed and just hoped the moment passed quickly.

"W-wait… what? where's the Arch-Zeno?" Roslyn asked, her ears still adjusting to the ringing. Her eyes darted around as she finally registered someone was missing.

There was no immediate response, for all knew and did not know. Sienna Afraval and Alassa Tojarra sized each other up like two lionesses about to fight for alpha status, but then the younger zeno bowed her head. "You were right, Señora Tojarra. I apologize for my insolence." Regretfully, she gazed up at the crowd. On some level, for some reason, this felt like... the end.

It was the end of Ersand'Enise, at least the Ersand'Enise she'd known and loved since she'd first seen it as a fifteen-year-old.

The yawning black nothing receded just a bit further and was gone, taking with it, Joshe Intaba, the Lion of Medrilan and Warden of Ersand'Enise. Only a handful noticed the brief flicker of spatial-temporal magic, so quick and subtle was it.

Alassa Tojarra bowed her head, seemingly out of respect.

None noticed her smile.

---

---

The Hourglass Order

Sven Bjørnsson

Magnetic: 2
Arcane: 0
Binding: 4
Chemical: 4
Kinetic: 1
Atomic: 4
Blood: 0
Temporal: 0
Dark: 0
Command: 0
Primordial: 0

RAS: 8.57
Base Health: 24
Mana: Agitator
Bonus Effect: [Berserker] - If Sven takes a significant wound or worse, is wounded twice in a row, or witnesses an ally or innocent take a significant wound or worse, he will roll a d4 for every move the next three turns. If he rolls a 4, he will enter the berserker state, where his RAS and skill modifiers will both increase by two tiers and he may choose to either flip his dice or roll exploding dice.
Fruit: [Golden Apple] - All thresholds for using skills above tier level are lowered from 12 to 8.
Consumable 1: [Seagoat Cheese] - provides 24 manas for 6 hours.
Consumable 2: [Pescoberry Cupcakes] - Provides advantage on all (d2) rolls and non-damaging actions.
Item 1: [Paper Dynamo]: This incredibly potent imbued hat was made of folded paper by accident. It provides advantage to all rolls, a boost of one tier to all magic schools, and a boost of one tier to RAS capacity. It also provides 32 manas. However, it is extremely fragile. On each turn that it is worn, its wearer will have to roll a (d4). If they roll a 1, the hat will expire, permanently. If they roll a 2, it will lose all potency until taken off and rested for at least two turns. No roll manipulation may be used beyond cycle and arc rerolls.
Item 2: [Great Seal of Draconic Wisdom] - once per scenario, may remove all special effects, bonuses, strengthens, or other modifiers to an enemy's attack, illusion, or defense. Provides 10 manas.

---

---

Seviin'delaan'taxoiya

Magnetic: 0
Arcane: 2
Binding: 5
Chemical: 4
Kinetic: 2
Atomic: 0
Blood: 5
Temporal: 3
Dark: 0
Command: 0
Primordial: 0

RAS: 8.24 8.74
Base Health: 24
Mana: Wildblood, Solocaster
Bonus Effect 1: [Three Moons] - On three moons, the wildblood will be boosted one RAS modifier tier and will behave with slightly more aggressiveness. She will passively heal (d2) at the start of each of her turns.
Bonus Effect 2: [Temple Trained] - All strengthening rolls with advantage and +2 (d2). Overdefenses may be stored up to a maximum of (healing level x3) and given to teammates as single-use bonuses.
Fruit: [Green Apple]: Healing rolls gain advantage in synchronizing, as well as strengthening rolls.
[Orange]: Combo defenses add a stacking d2 to defense rolls (start with one by default). Provides advantage to combo defenses and lowers their counter requirement to 7.
[General]: Passively heal (d4) per round at the start of each turn. All weakening or negative status effects are automatically cleared after two actions.
Consumable 1: [Smoothberry Strudel] - All defensive rolls are elevated by one RAS tier. Reflects overdefenses back at the attacker for use on the next counter, up to a maximum of 25.
Consumable 2: [Pescoberry Cupcakes] - Provides advantage on all (d2) rolls and non-damaging actions.
Item: [Laurel of Sedge & Bee]: Allows its wearer to combination defend for free once per scenario. Allows its wearer to splash healing to one additional target for free. Provides 16 manas

The Hourglass Order

Marceline Hohenfelter

Magnetic: 4
Arcane: 1
Binding: 4.5
Chemical: 1
Kinetic: 4.5
Atomic: 0
Blood: 0
Temporal: 0
Dark: 0
Command: 0
Primordial: 0

RAS: 8.28
Base Health: 18
Mana: Tethered (can attack from long range)
Bonus Effect: Foresight has 10 points to distribute whenever she sees fit.
Fruit: Brandæble - increases Marci's RAS modifier dice by one stage above where they should be.
Consumable 1: [Prime Shot] - increases Marci's RAS by 104, for a total of 256 with item.
Consumable 2: [Pescoberry Cupcakes] - Provides advantage on all (d2) rolls and non-damaging actions.
Item 1: Souleater's Sombre Sombrero - Penalizes all enemy spells with a persistent -2 so long as they are within casting range and steals any two magic buffs or consumable boons per scenario for use on the wearer instead. Currently at 6/10 and 1/5 charges. Provides 28 manas.
Mobility Aid: Power Wheels - a lightweight, aluminum-framed wheelchair made for humanoids. It has rubber tires, shocks, and a pneumatic, self-repairing seat cushion. It appears to have been modified by hegelan craftsmen with imbued spells that allow it to siphon and store kinetic energy from its surroundings in order to help its user hop curbs and boost momentum when rolling up inclines. Contains a slot for a mana gem as well as a small treasure compartment hidden by illusory magics. Provides 36 manas that can stack above the normal 32 maximum.

Image

---

---

Penny Pellerin

Magnetic: 1
Arcane: 3
Binding: 4
Chemical: 2
Kinetic: 4
Atomic: 0
Blood: 2
Temporal: 0
Dark: 0
Command: 0
Primordial: 0

RAS: 8.34
Base Health: 20
Mana: Leadvein (boosts Kinetic by one RAS tier)
Fruit 1: Pomegranate (fortune) - All passed thresholds and successful rolls add a stacking +3 bonus, up to +13. While the bonus is 9 or below, consecutive failures will dispel it. Above 9, any failures will dispel it. After +13 is reached, the player gains advantage.
Pomegranate (misfortune) - Tie the fates of the fruit bearer and their enemy together. Every time the bearer succeeds in meeting a threshold or a (d2), their enemy must roll their next one with disadvantage. Every time their enemy fails at a threshold or a (d2), the bearer gains advantage on their next roll of either of these types.
Consumable: [Pescoberry Cupcakes] - Provides advantage on all (d2) rolls and non-damaging actions.
Item: [Brooch of Determination] - Boosts the RAS tier of the bearer by one level for (d3) rolls after failing on a roll. Provides 20 manas.
Mobility Aid: [Quicksilver Crutches] - Boosts Skill Modifier on kinetic spells by one tier. Provides 12 manas.

The Hourglass Order

Chad'amis'yida'thala

Magnetic: 5
Arcane: 5
Binding: 0
Chemical: 1
Kinetic: 3
Atomic: 5.5
Blood: 0
Temporal: 2
Dark: 0
Command: 0
Primordial: 0

RAS: 8.64
Base Health: 22
Mana: Glowvein
Fruit: Red Apple
Consumable: [Pescoberry Cupcakes] - Provides advantage on all (d2) rolls and non-damaging actions.
Item: Grapes of Wrath - this set of five rings provides 20 manas, as well as a different bonus each time it's used, starting from the thumb and cycling to the next one after each roll.

1. Thumb: All strengthening on Chad is doubled for (d3) rolls.
2. Pointer: Hits an opponent with disadvantage for (d3) rolls.
3. Middle: Adds up to +6 to any roll three times per scenario.
4. Ring: Allows for use of the other fruit that Chad's fruit is paired with as well as empowered general fruit effects.
5. Pinkie: Provides a second flee that does not cost a turn anytime over the next (d3) defenses.

---

---

Ciro Volta

Magnetic: 1
Arcane: 4
Binding: 0
Chemical: 5
Kinetic: 3
Atomic: 0
Blood: 0
Temporal: ?
Dark: 5
Command: 0
Primordial: 0

RAS: 7.95
Base Health: 20
Mana: Agitator, Voidstrider - can create portals into the VOID and modify or summon basic aberrations. Can [redacted] [redacted] aberrations.
Fruit 1: Mint (Logic) - The bearer earns two free counters per encounter, with advantage.
Fruit 2: Hellfire Pepper (Passion) - The bearer earns two free strengthens per cycle, with advantage.
Consumable: [Yuri's Special Sauce] on [Smoothberry Strudel] - All defensive rolls are elevated by one RAS tier. Reflects overdefenses back at the attacker for use on the next counter, up to a maximum of 25.
Item: Laurel of Salt and Woe - Allows dark magic to combine with up to two other schools without predictability penalty or lockout. Provides three free advantage rolls on (d2) and 16 Manas.
Extra Item: One simple Apple.

The Hourglass Order

Edyta Laska

Magnetic: 0
Arcane: 5.5
Binding: 4
Chemical: 1
Kinetic: 4
Atomic: 0
Blood: 0
Temporal: ?
Dark: ?
Command: ?
Primordial: 0

RAS: 7.25
Base Health: 22
Mana: Greyborn, Icevein
Fruit: Brandaeble
Consumable 1: [Yuri's Special Sauce] on fried [Puffchicken Eggs]: +6 x 3 (one used), 2 advantage rolls.
Consumable 2: [Prime Shot]: Adds 97 manas to Edyta's true RAS for six hours.
Item 1: Zamrazenie & Palenie - Fire and Ice, the Twin Sickles of Reaping, this legendary item has been down in the Red Rezaindian order to promising your operatives for nearly two hundred years. It boosts Edyta Laska's Skill Modifier tier in all heat and cold-based magics by one. She will also roll all (d2) and upcasts with advantage. Provides 32 manas.
Item 2: n/a

---

---

Rikard Ambrus

Magnetic: 5
Arcane: 4
Binding: 0
Chemical: 0
Kinetic: 4
Atomic: 0
Blood: 0
Temporal: 2
Dark: ?
Command: 0
Primordial: 0

RAS: 8.21
Base Health: 20
Mana: Bronzeblood (d5 for exploding dice), Timeracer (d4 for extra action)
Fruit: Destruction (advantage on attacks)
Consumable: [Prime Shot]: Adds 115 manas to Rikard's true RAS for six hours.
Item: Thunder King's Lance: This great spear requires at least 3 points in kinetic magic and 3 in magnetic to be wielded. In addition to providing 24 manas, it will increase the speed of magnetic drawing and casting, allowing for a d3 to be rolled before each action taken with this school. If a 3 is rolled, its bearer will receive an extra turn out of sequence.

[MAGNETIC MARCHING BOOTS]: These automatically apply a [SKYWALKING] effect, allowing the user to move across all terrain types as if they are gentle terrain. These boots also provide +1 for all dice rolled in the magnetic and kinetic schools. Finally, they provide 16 manas.

[SPARK OF INSPIRATION]: An enchanted scarf with conductive golden fibres woven throughout. The tassels at the end often spark and zap with electricity. Provides up to five free upcasts in the Magnetic school per scenario, or three in any other school. For every successful Magnetic attack, gains a defensive advantage roll. Provides 24 manas.