//------------------------------//
// Chapter 25 
// Story: Shattered Pentacle 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Time got weird when you were an animal. Even to a mage like Lyra, who spent days at a time with paws or hooves or wings, the strange attenuation of conscious focus never failed to confuse her. 
Her cat self was neither interested nor comfortable during the bumpy drive back to the Sanctum, so she was barely awake for it. Her familiar gave her the occasional protective lick, stretching his larger size around her. That kept her heart calm enough that she could bury the urge to find some way to flee.
Simply having other powers was not enough to silence those instincts. Cat Lyra could still understand on some level that she could fly home instead of ride, if she wanted. Why not get outside and do that? At least she'd be in control.
But no—wisdom brought prudence, control, and discipline. She could wait.
“And we're home,” Reagan said. Maybe she said some other things, but none of those mattered quite as much as the last proclamation. Lyra sat up, then stretched to her full length. Because Reagan was kind enough to let her out of the awful metal trap, she even let her run her fingers under her chin.
“Yeah, you're in bad shape. Were you fighting vampires tonight?”
That word cut through to her awake self almost instantly. Lyra pulled away, then shook her head. “In Ponyville?”
She saw no new spells from Reagan. But this time she seemed to recognize Lyra's intent almost instantly. “More likely than you think. They're not all big-city monsters like Ventus. Feed on animals more than people. You haven't seen any of them while you're doing your Thyrsus stuff?”
She hadn't. But Lyra also hadn't been looking for vampires. Why should they care about an insignificant suburb like Ponyville, when Canterlot was so close?
“You're going to hate this,” Reagan said, scooping Lyra under one arm. She held her with frustratingly expert technique, keeping her back legs up so she couldn't squirm free. Not without using her claws, anyway. “But then you'll realize why I did it, and be grateful. You'll see.”
She had only a few seconds to wonder what Reagan might mean—then she tumbled. A second later, freezing water surrounded her on all sides. Lyra yowled and struggled, thrashing wildly to find an escape from that awful, cold place!
She found it a few seconds later, only for something huge to thrust her back in. “Sorry!” Reagan's voice from overhead, loud and guilty. “I know you hate it. Just another second, and...” 
There, something huge grabbed her from the water again. At least this one was soft and dry, surrounding her on all sides. “There we go, isn't that better? Nice and dry... and without the blood. No giving that girlfriend of yours a heart attack.”
She finally found an exit, poking her head out of the opening. Reagan did this—how could she throw her in a bucket of water like that?
Lyra mewed, no longer trying for any words that Reagan wouldn't understand. Words weren't needed to let her know just how betrayed she felt.
“I'm sorry, kitty. But I bet you won't sound like that tomorrow. Just look at the water here, disgusting. That was on you. And my truck, so thanks for that too.”
Finally she was free, squirming out the edge of the blanket. Lyra landed on the dirt floor, her fur still matted and damp. But uncomfortable or not, there was someone she could trust. She just had to get there!
Through the old barn, past [horse] and [horse], and the grumpy old Cinnamon was a little door in the wall just for her. It clicked when she got close, and she could press her head up against it to wiggle through. 
The space beyond always smelled interesting—the big people here burned things a lot, especially when they all gathered in the special room to sing together. Sometimes Lyra liked to sing with them, but not when she was small.
Other smells were even more interesting—Opalescence was here. Sometimes they could have fun games. But if the cat saw her looking like this, Lyra would die of embarrassment!
She slunk under tables and behind shelves, hiding when a set of heavy footsteps rushed inside. Reagan called her name, but she ignored her. Someone who dropped her in a bucket did not deserve her attention!
She waited in that little gap between a bookshelf and the stairs, then bolted across the hall.
Once she made noise walking this way, but now they had fluffy carpet here, masking her approach to all but the most sensitive ears. Finally she reached the bottom floor, and her target.
Lyra's suite had the door propped open a crack, just wide enough for her to slip through without needing to scratch for attention. She slid through the opening, then searched desperately for help.
Sure enough, she found it—the gigantic Bonnie sat in front of Lyra's desk, with a few glowing computer things around her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her breathing labored. But there was satisfaction on her face when she finally turned to look.
Not quite in Lyra's direction—human senses weren't good enough for that. Lyra mewed helpfully, louder than she would for anyone else. Only this single human was trustworthy enough to understand just how desperate and uncomfortable she felt.
“Oh. Hey Lyre. Almost out there until dawn this time.” She spun in the comfortable chair, patting her lap with one hand.
She needed no more invitation. Frankly, Lyra was going to climb up there whether the human asked her to or not. She darted across the distance, then bounded into her lap.
“Careful with those claws, Lyre!” Bonnie caught her, running soft hands down her back. “No wonder you're so upset. Was it raining upstairs? You're drenched!”
“No. Reagan got me.”
“I see.” Bonnie couldn't understand her any better than the others, not without Lyra's help. But somehow, she always seemed to know what Lyra actually wanted. “How about a hot bath instead, then? I'd like to see you a little less furry.”
The next thing she knew, Lyra was wet again. She still didn't like it much—but this time was better. The water was warm and steamy, and Bonnie didn't just drop her in. At least if the big human was wet too, they could be miserable together.
“Are you stuck again?” she asked, her voice only a little annoyed. “I swear if you scare me like that again, I'm taking you to the vet to get microchipped. And maybe spayed.”
That did it. A little fear, a lot of annoyance with her girlfriend, and suddenly Lyra was a lot bigger.
Not bigger than Bonnie of course—those muscles took a lifetime, and a very different set of priorities. But when they outfitted the new Sanctum, Tabitha had made sure the tub was big enough for two. Now she remembered why. 
“Struck a nerve?” Bonnie asked. She ran a hand through Lyra's hair in almost the same way as before. Only now there was another layer to her touch, a kind of closeness that her cat self would never understand. “You're the one who insists on going out like that, alone.”
She sat up in the water beside her, grinning. She still had the collar on her neck, its specially-chosen stretchy fabric comfortable even at human size. The object carried no magic at all, just a clever design to switch it off when it stretched, and turn it on again when she was small.
“I don't want to go alone,” she said, touching her forehead to Bonnie's in a feline gesture of affection.
“No, you've got him. I always knew I'd be lucky to have you, but I never thought I'd have to compete with an animal for affection.”
Lyra stiffened, looking up to meet her eyes. She stuck out her tongue, defiant. “Capper’s new body is female anyway. He doesn’t usually do that, but since he needed one fast, he had to take what he could get.”
“That’s supposed to reassure me?” Bonnie asked, raising an eyebrow. “My girlfriend is roaming with a girl cat, my bad. That sounds totally fine then.”
Lyra dropped her head briefly under the soapy water, poking it out again only when she couldn't hold it anymore. “Come with me and see. It would be so easy. Now that you don't have to worry about disbelief.”
“I'm not a cat,” her girlfriend said, splashing a handful of water down her face. “Call me a 'sleepwalker' all you want. I am not learning to use a litterbox.”
Lyra flushed bright red. But she wasn't going to relive that awful experience, when her own callous spellcasting trapped her in her favorite form for almost two weeks straight.
“It doesn't have to be a cat,” Lyra argued. “That's just the one I've learned best. For you, I'd try anything. Wild horses out on the prairie, hawks soaring over the city, foxes or raccoons or—”
Bonnie pushed her mouth gently closed with two fingers. “I'm happy you enjoy it. I just wish... you'd do more of your magic stuff on two legs. Animals are fragile, Lyre. And the way you always look like that one... if someone was looking, they'd realize who you are.”
She shrugged. Explaining why she became the same cat every time she used the spell wasn't technically allowed yet. Explaining how her Legacy worked, even if it meant repeating forgotten things only Capper knew—was still a violation of her oath to Hierarch Tan. For a little while longer, anyway.
“Are you ready for the big day?” Lyra asked, cuddling up as close to Bonnie as she could. “You've been practicing!”
“I was ready,” her partner said, a little annoyance creeping back into her voice. “Then my girlfriend left her nightgown on the floor and went into town to hunt monsters. It's...” She glanced down at her watch, which she kept even in the oversized tub. “You want me to be ready to perform for witches in... an hour? Feel like I'm gonna collapse.”
Lyra nodded. “We can have magic coffee in the Hallow. Will that help?”
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “Suppose if I was trying to hide from more magic, I've made the wrong choice.”
Lyra kissed her, then rolled out of the huge tub onto the tile beside it. “We don't get to choose what's true, Bonnie. Magic was always going to be our birthright. The monsters who think we're helpless victims were always wrong. All we get to decide is what we do with what we learn.”
She shook herself out once, then froze. She wasn't a cat anymore. Better not to act like that with Bonnie watching. She walked over to the rack, and took a pair of fresh, warm towels. 
“What was so important you had to go out there learning it all night?” Bonnie asked, pulling the drain before climbing out after her. “I assume it must be important, since you didn't even stop to tell me you were going.”
“I was...” She held out the towel. “After today, I can tell you everything. You can watch the rituals, even try to practice some of them if you want.”
Rotes shouldn't work for someone without an Awakened soul, of course. They could try to memorize the Atlantean, practice every mudra until their hands went numb. But magic didn't always follow simple rules. Their local branch of the Free Council believed it could help spur them to Awakening. Maybe they were right!
“But you can't tell me now?”
Defile not the Mysteries. Lyra's oath, one she would have to swear she had followed in just a few hours, surrounded by her peers in the Free Council.
“I saw a creature that could help us,” she said. “I had to catch it, but once I did, it agreed. Can I tell you more tonight? Maybe over dinner.”
“Maybe in our bedroom,” Bonnie said. “Together. With the right number of legs, and no fur on our sheets.” From the way she said it, Lyra knew her girlfriend was not asking. Good—Lyra could use some fresh human memories the next time she struggled to remember why she should change back.