Lyra always knew the night was full of dangers. After years of feeling trapped and helpless, she finally Awakens to a hidden world of friendship and magic. But can she keep her secret from her monster-hunting girlfriend?
Lyra always knew there was something more out there. She learned in her youth, when she became the victim of a bloodsucking horror that kept her enthralled to his twisted will, feeding on the blood of others to sustain itself. Until Bonnie came, and set her free with fire and bullets. After agonizing withdrawal, Lyra's body healed. But her soul was another matter entirely.
Now she tries to live a normal life, passing the day to day as a music tutor. But horrors still stalk her nightmares, lurking in every shadowy Canterlot alley.
As time passes, something deep in Lyra rebells at this vision of her world, where mankind are desperate prey always fleeing from dark things. Something is calling to her, a vision of a better world. Once her soul wakes to magic, it will never sleep again.
Unless someone puts her in the dirt, of course. Someone like her monster-hunting girlfriend.
Updates Saturdays.
This story is a tribute to the World of Darkness. Knowledge of its setting and characters is not necessary to read this--its lead character will have to learn everything right along with readers. But for the curious, I'm using 1st Edition Mage the Awakening, Hunter the Vigil, Changeling the Lost, Vampire the Masquerade, and Werewolf the Forsaken. It's primarily a mage story, but will include elements of the other books where appropriate.
This story started with the simple premise of wondering what Twilight and her unicorn friends would look like as a cabal of mages. But given how long I've been writing and how old the fandom is now, centering a story on Twilight felt too predictable at this point. I wanted to use one of the background characters as viewpoint instead. Everything else grew from that premise--making the changelings into changelings, some earth ponies into werewolves, etc.
Editing by Two Bit and Sparktail. Two Bit was also my enabler for this story. The cover was made by the fantastic Zen. I'm really happy with how this one came out.
Lyra did not like to dream. When she slept, the blood returned—the screams. Time mattered little in the domain of memory.
In her mind, she still craved. She still tasted the sickly sweet of blood, dribbled out just fast enough to keep her obedient. The strange power of that blood left her body unscarred by all she suffered under the old dockyard. But the damage to her mind—that healed slower.
When those wounds were still fresh, she dreamed only of need, of terrible things those horrors demanded of her. But now, sometimes—things were different.
Now instead of the torment of the endless, blurring days, Lyra relived the last. Exploding wood, gunfire, and light more powerful than the sun. Her master’s demand, overflowing with a fear she had never heard from the thing that called himself Ventus.
“Protect your home!” he bellowed. His words compelled, as they always had. Lyra felt the Uzi in her fingers, clicking off the safety. But instead of rushing out into the hail of bullets to die like all the others, she turned it on Ventus.
Blood dribbled down a tower in a vast jungle, its canopy so dense no light reached the ground. Instead of drinking it, she scattered it over the floor, watering the warehouse basement and the jungle all in one.
Then came the sun. She jerked upright, her fingers contracting around a trigger that wasn’t there. She felt silk sheets instead, and a face almost as soft looking back at her.
Bonnie already had an eye open. She reached across the warm space, sliding her hand down Lyra’s shoulder. Her touch was gentle, a reassuring reminder that she wasn’t alone. “Nightmares again?”
She nodded weakly. Instead of moving away, she rested up against Bonnie’s arm. “Dreams, anyway. It’s not so bad now that I don’t wake up craving.”
Her girlfriend slid closer to her in bed, resting Lyra’s head against her chest. She held her there for a little while—not long enough. But the morning sun outside glowed with its constant reminder that the day would not wait forever.
But a few more minutes, surrounded by soft sheets and the touch of someone who had never hurt her—that was peace.
Eventually Bonnie sat up against the headboard, pulling Lyra along with her. “You better have plans for the weekend. I don’t want you spending the next few days locked up in here, alone.”
Lyra nodded. “It’s karaoke night at Azucar3. The girls and I planned to go. Since you won’t let me go on your trip.”
Her girlfriend nodded with relief. “That’s good. As long as you’re not in here all weekend.”
Lyra shrugged, then rolled out of bed. Her feet settled weakly under her, but held. “I like having some time alone. But not the whole weekend.”
They got ready, stumbling together between the shower and the kitchen, not always in that order.
Lyra felt a little better with her morning tea in hand, and a plate of toast and eggs. Her girlfriend wasn’t particularly good at cooking anything that wasn’t sweet, but at least none of it burned. Plain, simple, filling.
It was the thought that mattered most. Lyra flicked through her notebook of music lessons for that morning, scratching her ideas next to the name of each student. “What about you?” she asked. “The whole weekend this time? Anything I should be worried about?”
Bonnie looked away from her. “I would say if I could. It’s—”
“Classified,” Lyra finished lamely. “You honestly can’t tell me anything? I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Bonnie stood from her seat, turning towards the window. “I trust you, Lyra. But without a security clearance—it’s just better if you don’t know. Safer for you, safer for everyone.”
“But you would warn me if something was wrong, right? If there was danger...”
Her girlfriend passed something heavy across the table to her, her purse. Most of that space was empty, a little wallet, some makeup and feminine products. All that weight came from the hefty metal object buried at the bottom. “You have the gun I gave you while I’m gone. You remember how to shoot it?”
Lyra slipped the purse over her shoulder, then stood. “I remember.”
“You only get the one shot if—”
Lyra stuck a piece of toast into her mouth, silencing her. “I’m pretty sure I know vampires better than you do. I’m not going to stick around and see. One shot and I run, like you said.”
Bonnie chewed, then tossed the slice away into the sink. She caught Lyra’s elbow with her other arm, pulling her in close. “Ponyville is pretty quiet right now. Canterlot—not so much. If you’re alone, be here. Okay?”
“Love you too.” Lyra kissed her cheek, light and sharp. “You think you can tell me about what it was you’re hunting, when you get the kill? Can’t hurt after it’s already dead.”
Bonnie met her eyes. For a few seconds, Lyra expected another sharp rebuff, another reminder of the restrictions her girlfriend always obeyed. But Bonnie stretched up to her tiptoes, high enough to whisper into Lyra’s ear. “Wizards.”
She slipped away, easily pulling free of Lyra’s grip. “See you Sunday night, sweetie.”
“You’re Sweetie,” she shot back, almost by reflex.
Her girlfriend winked, stuck out her tongue, then vanished into the garage.
I should get going too. Shouldn‘t keep my ride waiting.
She met Akiko a few minutes later, waiting in her driveway. Lyra nodded to her, then slipped into the passenger seat. “Good morning.”
“Morning, anyway,” Akiko answered. “How are you feeling?” She never touched the controls, yet the audiobook faded anyway. She must’ve had something in her pocket.
Lyra slid her little notebook out, finger gliding over her notes. They were all a mess, scribbled over each other in a confused tangle. Every student had a page, marked with different colored dividers. “Dunno, Akiko. Want the quick version or the truth?”
Her old friend pulled onto the highway, then they were accelerating. “We’ve known each other since we were girls, Lyra. Who else would you tell?”
Not exactly an answer. She snapped the little notebook closed. “When I’m really bored sometimes I take a violin into the city zoo. Tim lets me do it—the security guard?”
“Yeah.” Akiko nodded, suddenly paying attention. “He would. Not sure where this is going. You’re already with—”
Lyra interrupted. “I play for the animals. Whatever exhibit doesn’t have anyone right then. Most of them don’t really care—but some of the mammals, you can tell they’re listening, you know? Chimpanzees come right up to the cage, start tapping along. Or the deer all leave their food behind to run in circles right in front of me.”
She stopped her finger on one page near the back—Isabelle’s lesson, her first for the day. She hadn’t added anything to her page in weeks. Despite her talent for music, she wasn’t any better at the piano than she had been back in January.
Akiko glanced sidelong at her—or maybe she was just checking her blind spots before pulling off on Canterlot’s main street exit. “Not sure how this is supposed to tell me what’s bothering you, Harper.”
She shrugged. “There’s nothing quite like music in their world. But they still listen. They look at me, and I can feel what they’re thinking—this glimpse. They don’t understand what they’re hearing, but they realize it’s bigger than anything in their universe. They could never reproduce what I’m doing, not in a thousand years. But there’s still enough in there for them to feel what they’re missing and want more.”
She stuck the little notebook back into her pocket, adjusting the purse on her shoulder. “That’s where I’m at.”
Akiko jerked to a stop, so suddenly that Lyra’s seatbelt went painfully tight against her chest. It was a red light, right at the end of the exit. “What changed?” Akiko asked. The audiobook was silent now, her car quiet except for the gentle idling of the engine. “Did Terri give you another lecture about crystals? It was the crystals, wasn’t it?”
Lyra laughed in spite of herself. Not loudly. “No. I guess it might seem... similar. But music isn’t just pleasant, it’s true. Maybe that doesn’t make a lot of sense. But there’s math behind it—some sounds are nice to listen to, and others aren’t. Doesn’t matter what culture you’re from, or even what species. It would be nice if you could just stick a rock in your pocket to fix all your problems, but—no. Not that.”
They were already reaching the music store, across from central park. Akiko wasn’t watching the road very closely anymore. If Lyra didn’t know better, she almost would’ve thought her friend was muttering something under her breath.
But no, she wasn’t crazy. Not that crazy, anyway. But the way she gasped, taking her fingers off the wheel—Lyra might have to revise her opinion. Granted, they weren’t moving. Not until someone behind them started laying on the horn, and Akiko finally went back to driving.
She sped off, swerving across a few lanes, before sliding into the music store parking lot. “You feel like you were asleep,” she whispered. “Not just for a little while, but your whole life—so deep you didn’t even realize it. Until one day, you did.” Akiko rested one hand on her shoulder, her grip uncharacteristically firm. “I could show you, if you want. Help you hear the music.”
Of everything Akiko might have told her—that wasn’t what she was supposed to say. It might be easier if her friend had told her she was insane. “I thought you were supposed to ground me.”
It was Akiko’s turn to laugh. “We both know that’s your girlfriend’s job. Besides, the world has enough lies without creating any more.”
Like the Masquerade. Lyra jerked away from her, stumbling out into the parking lot. “Thanks for the ride, Akiko. Lifesaver as always. Sweetie’s grateful too, even if she’ll never admit it. She’s not big on sharing. But I know she is.”
She shoved the door closed, then backed up. Tabitha’s car was already waiting in the lot. Isabelle might be sitting in their lesson room.
Akiko rolled down her window, returning her hand to the wheel. “You’re still coming to karaoke tonight, right? I know the girls are counting on you. We need someone who can sing.”
She nodded halfheartedly. “Wouldn’t miss it!”
“Good.” Akiko pulled into reverse, rolling past her. “What you’re feeling is true, Lyra. Follow it.” She rolled out onto the road. Not far—Lyra could see Akiko’s little tea shop from the sidewalk.
She stood there in silent confusion for another minute, before hurrying through the parking lot and into Rainbow Rocks.
Octavia whistled as Lyra entered, voice harsh and annoyed. She gestured to the wall clock without a word. Two minutes past the hour.
Lyra nodded apologetically, scooping up her basket of supplies from beside the counter, then skipping through the store to the row of identical, soundproof rooms.
Sure enough, Isabelle was already sitting in hers. Not at the piano, or even near it. Lyra could only wince, slipping inside. “Morning, Izzy. I hope you’ve been practicing!”
At least the teen had the courtesy to tuck her phone down her shirt. “Yeah. A little, I guess. Not as much as you want me to.”
She got up, shuffling towards the piano. This time, Lyra stopped her, holding the basket in her way. She sat down on the bench herself, facing backward. “We’ll do something a little different today. Take out those scales... but I’ll play them. You’re going to sing along, okay?”
Isabelle lowered one hand from her pink and purple curls, expression suddenly intense. “My sister didn’t want me singing here. I’m supposed to be... learning the fundamentals or whatever.”
Lyra spun around. “Sit down next to me. I’ll play, you can pretend, and you’ll sing along instead. Let’s start with our major scales. Okay?”
One lesson blurred into another, the same as every day. Lyra put aside her own fears for a little while, focused on the needs of each individual student. Some needed time to focus on their fundamentals, while others were preparing for the next recital. Either way, having her attention on someone else meant her anxiety could fade.
If Bonnie would tell me more, maybe I would understand a little better. But Bonnie never did—she had only defied her orders once, when she saved Lyra’s life. No other ghoul walked out of that warehouse.
Lunchtime came and went, and it was time to work the floor, selling instruments and restocking the shelves. It was far more mindless than her morning lessons, leaving her free to wander. When there was no one around to help, she was alone with her thoughts. What monster would “Sweetie Drops” be hunting this weekend? Would she be hurt again?
Maybe this time it was just more training, or dull paperwork. Maybe she wouldn’t come home with fresh scars. Or maybe she would, and this time Lyra would be strong enough to help her,instead of the other way around.
“I believe that about does it for the evening.” Octavia tapped her polished nails on the counter, surveying the store. Dusted, swept, and stocked, thanks to Lyra. “Don’t think this excuses tardiness, Miss Harper. Our students expect the lesson they pay for. If you’re late to start—”
“Then I’m late to the next one,” she finished. “I know, I’m sorry. I won’t keep anyone waiting on Monday.”
“I’m sure you won’t.” Octavia reached under the counter, removing Lyra’s purse from where it had been resting through the day. “Enjoy your weekend. Will you be waiting here for your ride?”
“Nah. Bonnie is out for the weekend. Thanks though.” She waved, then slipped out the door.
The streetlights were already on, though the sun hadn’t set yet. It might be a perfect night in the city, if there wasn’t smoke on the horizon.
Lyra broke into a jog, clutching the purse to her side. She didn’t reach inside yet, despite her growing fear. Maybe it was a scheduled burn, or a barbeque out of control. Her worst fears couldn’t manifest yet, not while the sun was still in the sky. Even fading light would char her fears to ash.
The stink of oil and melted plastic tainted the air—not thick enough to trouble her breathing, but enough to sicken her. Worst by far was what burned.
She reached Akiko’s tea shop and bookstore. Despite her hopes, this was clearly the source of the flames. Specifically, Akiko’s car, casting a pillar of black smoke up into the air.
The shop windows were shattered, and the door a broken ruin on the ground. Of all the people in Canterlot to attack, why Akiko? Her friend could get a little spacy at times, and definitely wasn’t the most socially well-adjusted. But that didn’t mean she deserved violence! Was her tea that bad?
Lyra removed her phone, snapping a few photos. There should be hundreds of people on the scene, blaring police sirens, maybe the fire patrol.
There wasn’t a soul. No one gawked out the nearby windows, and cars passed on the road as though they didn’t even see the flaming wreck a dozen feet away. Did I just step into a dream?
The smart thing to do was turn and run, obviously. If it were anyone else’s store, she would’ve done exactly that. But Akiko—Akiko didn’t deserve this.
Lyra slipped her phone away, drawing Bonnie’s strange taser wrapped in wires. I’m not a victim anymore. My friends won’t be either. Lyra dropped into a crouch, and hurried through the broken door into Akiko’s building.
Akiko's tea shop was in ruins. Whoever had come through obviously worked deliberately, shattering and smashing as much as they could. Glass cases displaying loose-leaf tea in delicious varieties were shattered onto the ground, letting the leaves mix freely. The reading corner furniture was broken, with its shelves toppled sideways spilling the books everywhere.
She felt at one of the shelves as she approached, dodging around the piles of broken glass along the way. The shelves were solid oak, each one much heavier than Lyra's whole body. Support brackets were ripped right out of the wall, leaving jagged gaps where they should've attached.
Lyra flicked the safety off the strange stun-gun, advancing towards the kitchen. She found more destruction along the way—anything that could be easily broken was toppled, then deliberately crushed underfoot
Why would anyone care about Akiko's little business? No rival tea-shop owner would employ the undead for such a shallow, meaningless attack.
Lyra reached the back wall after a short time, her hand touching against flat cement. Strange—hadn't she been headed for the kitchen? She looked up, and found it was still open, the little swinging doors ripped off the hinges—but she wasn't there.
What? This time she fixed her attention on the broken door, and walked. Her hand met a broken shelf of little tea decorations, scorched along its edge.
Her mind spun, head throbbing with the impossibility. Lyra walked in a straight line, and ended up somewhere else. “Not... possible.” The gun faltered in her hand, and she glanced back for the exit. Maybe she would be better off if she tried to get away. She didn't belong here—she was obviously out of her league!
But Akiko might need her help! The two weren't best friends or anything, but they had been close since growing up. She couldn't just abandon Akiko to whatever these monsters wanted to do. She would be helpless against them—at least Lyra had experience. She could resist their powers.
I feel them now. She wasn't sure how she realized it—something switched, and suddenly everything was clear. Lyra had walked through this space a hundred times—helped Akiko mix up tea for morning, or chatted with her over an evening glass of chamomile.
What I see is a lie. It manipulates me. Lyra closed her eyes, then touched one hand against the wall again. The shelf of decorations meant she was only a few feet away from the kitchen door. She stepped to the left.
It was like walking uphill, impossibly steep. Her body rebelled against her, making every step into a fight. She pressed against something, a will that crushed her mind.
Others might yield—Lyra had felt a mind that was not her own compelling her to action a hundred times before. She leaned into it, refusing to retreat. Instead of making place for the alien mind, she replayed music in her head. Vivaldi’s “Summer” ought to do—the strings blazed, dueling each other as the ancient composer had written. His will left no room for another.
Her hand brushed against the doorframe, and still she moved. She walked over the broken door, kept going until she felt tile under her feet. Only then did Lyra open her eyes.
The odor hit her first, an oppressive stink that choked into her lungs and made her eyes sting.
There was little to break in here—a few teacups, the fridge toppled to one side. Most dramatically, both of Akiko's stoves were on, pouring gas into the room without a flame.
Lyra scampered over, switching both off. She reached the window and flung it open, then leaned out into the night to suck mouthfuls of mercifully clean air.
Her head swam with the awful stink of gas. For a few seconds it was all she could do to rest there, catching her breath. Until her head stopped pounding, and she could look back.
There should be nothing else here, just a few shelves of storage and a door into the alley. But she saw no bodies, no blood, no other signs of a struggle.
There's nothing here, I should leave.
Strangely, she found the thought wouldn't stick in her mind. She wanted to leave, yet—it wasn't Lyra who wanted her to leave. Something else did. It wanted her not to see what was plainly right in front of her.
In her knowing, there was sight. The plain concrete wall fuzzed and shimmered, then wasn't a wall anymore. A doorway appeared there, leading down with a set of narrow, perfectly ordered steps carved directly into the rock. Not a chance they were up to code, with such narrow gaps between each one. No toolmarks either, like someone had reached through the ground with a magical hand, scooping out one step at a time.
Another trick? Lyra touched her free hand up against the wall beside it, then pushed through. Her arm moved freely through where a wall had been, then through empty air. It was open.
Lyra deliberated for another moment, wondering whether she should pass through.
Then she heard something. Voices, one harsh and one desperate. One was Akiko's, and she was terrified.
Lyra checked the gun again, then stepped through the wall. It wasn't a wall, and her foot settled on solid rock. The second step was hard too, but by the third she was moving freely. Whatever strange pressure touched her mind, it faded quickly. The passage was dark, lit by a single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Lyra crept forward slowly, taking each step as quietly as she could. The Kindred had exceptional senses—but if this one was gloating, it might not notice her approach. Long enough for the two of them to escape, if they were lucky.
She reached the door of the passage that shouldn’t be there. Some part of her still expected it to conform to familiar rules. Maybe there would be a storage room of secret, delicious tea. There was not.
The space inside looked like it might be the sitting room of a fine mansion. Its wood-paneled walls were covered with paintings, and lit by warm fixtures overhead that might be radiating pure sunlight.
The damage was no less severe than the shop above. Priceless metal objects, computers, and shelves of books were toppled and shattered, or crushed into impossible configurations. It hurt too much to look at them, as though the shapes themselves were somehow dangerous or confused. She didn't try, instead focusing on the heated conversation inside.
“You had to know this day would come. Your gods are false and fallen. My king sits atop his throne. You see the result.” The speaker was female, older, with a cruel edge to every word. She was certainly cruel enough to be one of Ventus's Kindred.
Lyra crept forward. She couldn't see the speaker yet, or her friend. Despite the modest size of the tea shop above, this building was huge, sprawling bigger than her home. Not Akiko's, her friend had a mansion. If anyone could afford to build something like this, it was probably her.
“You've made your point,” Akiko said. “You want the wheel—take it. Take it and go, you win.”
“Feel that weight on your shoulders. Feel it crushing down. So speaks dominion, pentacle. So speak the true masters, rightful monarchs of this world. You awakened only because they permitted it—because one day, you would offer something of value to the kingdom. No other reason.”
She’s lying. Lyra wasn’t sure where the words came from. They were thoughts, yet there was something strange about them too. Another mind spoke with truer words. Even now.
Her thoughts weren’t words exactly—they were an impression, absolute confidence in something that was true. Those words were music, like the melody that urged her forward through the ruins.
“I know who you... serve,” Akiko whispered. “They won’t make you a king. They’d make everyone slaves.”
Something shattered, then something else smacked into a wall with a meaty thud and a scream.
Lyra strangled a gasp, speeding up. She reached the corner seconds later, and peered around it.
Much of what she saw made no sense to her. A section of the building was left with a naked stone floor, surrounded by a ring of strange objects. A single case stood beside it, now shattered on the floor.
There were only two people here. One was Akiko, lying in a heap against the wall. Despite the awful sound of impact, she was only bleeding from a few places, and her leg twisted sharply the wrong direction. A little blood, but not the devastating injury that the impact produced.
Then there was the stranger—a woman with dark red hair with a few flakes of white along with thin, angular features.
What was a vampire supposed to wear? Maybe something like this—a crisply cut business suit, with flaring pants and heels. She carried no obvious weapons, or other signs of how she had inflicted such incredible harm to Akiko's shop. That could only mean one thing—the strength of her blood.
“You don't even know what this does.” The woman bent down, hefting something from the glass wreckage. It was metal, heavy enough that the woman strained visibly when she rose, adjusting her weight. “You will not miss it. You cannot even see it put to productive use—but I can.”
“Fine,” Akiko groaned, resting her back against the wall. “Go.”
“Not... quite,” said the stranger. “This offering is great. But your offering is not complete. If you will not swear to the Storm God’s name, then your soul will be an offering to him. Choose now.”
She won’t get to choose. Lyra knew that truth as confidently as anything she had seen. She needed no supernatural senses—this was something deeper. She’d known the kindred for years, learned the way they thought. They wanted to do more than just dominate—they wanted you to believe they owned you.
Akiko spoke again, a whisper of something that Lyra shouldn’t understand. It wasn’t a language she had ever heard—but she knew the words anyway. Someone had already written them on her soul.
“One lie darkens all shadow. Truth pierces all darkness.” Lyra whispered along to those words, like reciting an oath.
They guided her fingers, made her hands stop shaking. Her aim settled on target, one finger on the trigger. Then the gun started glowing. A motor whirred, and the barrel rotated, replaced with another tipped with faint blue light.
That was not the correct response—not from the woman’s feral growl, or the sudden energy that filled the room. Lights flickered overhead, then exploded in a shower of sparks.
Lyra had no idea what she was witnessing, but she didn’t stop to think. She knew what would happen to her friend if she just stood there and watched.
She pulled the trigger. A voice spoke from the weapon, faint and artificial. “Metahuman target identified. Suppression engaged.”
Lightning arced through the room, yanked down from cables running through the ceiling. It lashed out at Akiko, lying prone and helpless on the ground.
Lyra’s gun hissed and hummed, frost condensing on its tubes and wires. Smoke rose from the barrel. No bullets emerged, and the weapon didn’t so much as fidget in her fingers.
Then the woman screamed.
She spun in place, and the electricity arced away from Akiko, leaving deep black marks on the ground. Aiming for me.
Lyra had a split second to react—long enough. She dove back around the corner, just as energy splashed into the place she’d been, tearing up cement and wood in a shower of sparks and light.
There was no time left to wonder how this was happening, or what impossibility was trying to kill her. She knew no Kindred who wielded power like this—a mystery to solve another time.
“What manner of... is this? I’ll burn them to ashes! The King of all Storms rises and bellows with his rage!”
Lightning flashed from around the corner, so bright it would’ve blinded Lyra in an instant if she saw it. She didn’t, and it was gone almost as quickly. Then came the thunder, so loud it drove her to her knees.
She covered her ears with both hands, whimpering against the pain. The gun was still clutched in one, so she heard its simple electronic voice whispering in her ear.
“Cryogenic element at maximum entropy. Charge expended.” It hissed and sputtered, ejecting a little silver tank to the ground next to her. Smoke still rose from the metal, condensing to a thin layer of frost.
Then it was over. The light vanished, leaving only a handful of electric lights still glowing behind Lyra. She dropped the gun, then stumbled forward, ears ringing with thunder. She peered around the corner, balling one hand into a fist—but there was no monster there. Only her friend remained, a pale outline curled in a corner.
“Rarity, was that you?” her friend called, voice small but insistent. “Not sure what spell that was, but it worked perfectly. I think she electrocuted herself.”
Spell? Like the one that left a glowing, vibrant hole in the space where a woman had been standing. Like the lightning that scorched the rock all around it, turning it to shimmering glass.
That wasn’t a vampire.
Lyra bent down, removing something from where it sat abandoned in the molten glass. This object alone was unharmed, despite the terrible damage to either side.
About the size of a pocket watch, though like nothing she’d ever seen before. Thousands of wheels and gears moved within, turning and clicking and humming together according to some unknown and unknowable design. It settled into her fingers, so real that her eyes could focus even in near-darkness.
Compared to this strange object, her body was smoke and shadow. It ought to pass right through her, then down to the core of the planet beneath.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each one shook her body, an unseen heartbeat. The sound transformed to distant thunder, rolling over the hillside. It brought rain with it, thick and rejuvenating. If only she could find it and walk out into the deluge, maybe she could wash away a little of her confusion. Maybe then the world would make sense. It called to her, from a source she couldn’t see.
Lyra walked towards it. She crossed the broken basement, the melted stone, and reached where her friend was only just sitting up.
A light glowed to life in Akiko’s hand, bright as a spotlight, but without a source. Light came from—nowhere, shining into her face.
Akiko gasped, expression turning horrified. “Lyra? How... how are you down here? Sleepers can’t...”
Lyra held out her hand, offering her the clock. “Do you hear the music, Akiko?”
“Do I...” She moaned, pressing her shirt against her chest to staunch the bleeding. She extended her other hand for the clock, the one that glowed. “You saved my life.”
Even without the clock in her fingers, Lyra felt the distant storm. It raged over a familiar home, compelling her forward. “I’ll be back. Someone is waiting for me.”
She turned away, and followed the roar out of Akiko’s secret basement.
The city extended in all directions, an endless gray eternity that stretched across all reality. Streets crowded with gray figures, moving in hushed, slumping groups. Dark cars sped past her down muddy roads, splashing helpless pedestrians on either side.
It was every worst day she’d ever had, when dark eyes waited in every window. When Ventus’s whispers compelled her to unspeakable things. She would not be deceived by such a voice ever again, no matter how sweetly it said her name.
“It’s us against the universe, Lyra,” whispered a dark figure, catching her by the shoulder. She was too strong to resist, tugging Lyra sharply to one side.
Agent Sweetie Drops stood in full tactical gear, black right down to the paint on either side of her face. She rested her hands on a submachine gun covered in sinuous silvery wires, with a magazine that made the air hum.
“The less you know about it the better. They’re all monsters, all finding new ways to prey on people like us. If you saw what I’ve seen.”
She nodded along reflexively, as she’d done so many times before. But now she knew it was a lie. “My friend isn’t a monster. Akiko saved my life.”
The crowd shoved up against her, surging in seemingly random directions. They crashed down in waves like the sea, shoving her back. They threatened to wash her away, and obscure the distant light on the horizon.
“I won’t go back!” She pushed through the crowd, even though it meant losing sight of Sweetie Drops. Answers waited for her, whispered in the planet’s pulsing heartbeat.
She emerged from the crowd, and out onto an empty intersection.
A solitary figure stood there with his back to her. Rain soaked pale flesh, torn and shredded with a dozen bullets. It wasn’t red blood that emerged from within, but black. The body was long dead, yet walked still.
“You could’ve been one of us,” he said. “I had such hope for you, Lyre. The Camarilla would have welcomed you.”
She slowed in her steps, but did not stop. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore, Ventus. I didn’t listen to you then.”
He turned as she approached, showing a ruined face torn apart by gunfire. He had done the same in her memory, before the fire took him. He gripped her coat, tugging at her with iron fingers. “You are chattel now. You can’t fight the craving—not forever. The rot already runs into your soul, the beast stirs.”
“You’re lying!” She shoved him back. But he was too strong—she tumbled instead, tripping over the curb and into the road.
She fell forever, through addiction and blood, through murders and sex in darkened basements and lonely alleys.
She landed on the seashore. Lyra had never been to a beach before, but she never imagined anything like this. The water was not blue, but liquid darkness, soaking the light of the moon and stars without dimension or contrast.
Lyra struggled to her feet. Bare skin scraped against a rocky shore, leaving her sliced and bleeding. She stood up anyway, shielding one eye with her hand.
Ponyville was gone now—the shore to her either side held only the empty, crumbling skeletons of once great buildings. Whatever city lay ruined here was greater than anything she had ever seen—even the steeples and rooftops emerging from the sand looked to be once mighty monuments.
Her bare feet scraped against a broken road, cracked and crumbling. It led into the black water that was not water.
“Do you hear the music?” asked a voice. Octavia stood on the shore beside her. She reached down to the broken beach, and lifted something in one hand. “Play for us.”
Lyra took it in both hands. Someone had worked a lyre in living wood, covered over with a dusting of pale green moss. Its strings were taut sinew, dripping blood.
“Do I...” She did hear it. Simple at first—the steady thump of a heartbeat. She flicked her fingers over the strings, at once rotting and firm. She played along, strumming to the rhythm.
“There was a road here, before the dragon died,” Octavia said. Except she wasn’t Octavia anymore, she was a... monster. A monster of mismatched limbs, with long gray hair and naked singularities in his eyes. “We broke it. We broke everything, Lyra.”
His words were a mournful dirge in time with the music. Her fingers moved without thinking, spraying blood and bits of flesh across bare skin. A song for the graveside, mourning the passing of something that was once great. No longer.
“There’s still something there,” she sang back. Her words brought hope to the melody. A tune of seeds freshly planted, the last hope for a harvest. She held the lyre against her heart, so close its vines wrapped around her fingers, crept up her arms. They grew along her veins.
Her heart still beat. It joined to the other, deeper sound. “Your birthright,” whispered the speaker. He towered over her, great limbs digging into the rubble. “Now hidden. A sliver of darkness poisons you. Strangles the melody.”
She saw it anyway. Far across that dismal sea was a forest. Life as nothing she had ever seen, a world of life untouched by smog or poisoned rivers. Seeing it made her heart swell with longing.
“Vitae,” she whispered. “I let him give it to me. It won’t let me go, will it?”
Laughter. “The Kindred? No. This corruption was in you from the moment you were born. If you want to cross, rip it out.”
The lyre crumbled in her fingers, leaving only a piece of jagged wood as sharp as any dagger. Her skin went pale, her hands shook. “I can’t.”
Warm hands touched hers, pushing the broken wood to her breast. Sweetie Drops, still in her dark tactical gear. “You know you can. You knew in the moment that Ventus ordered you to die for him. You heard the music then.”
She pushed on Lyra’s fingers, just hard enough that sharp wood touched unprotected skin. “The music. Creation’s melody. A truer song than Ventus’s lies. You followed it all the way to the end of the universe, Lyre. What is it telling you?”
A slug festered in her chest, like tar that covered something shining underneath. She felt it wriggling under her skin, filling her soul with poison. The human race were helpless victims, they strangled their planet. Nothing would ever get better. What was broken could not heal.
“I’m not the one who can’t be there,” she realized. She plunged the dagger through her chest.
She screamed, body spasming. The awful passenger in her soul thrashed and contracted, constricting her limbs. She pushed anyway, heedless of her own blood dribbling down her chest.
She knew the instant it was dead. Black tar dripped from the wound, splattering beside her bare feet. It trickled away, oozing into the sea and joining with the tide.
Lyra kept breathing. Even with a dagger piercing her chest, plunged in so deep the tip emerged from between her shoulders. But she wasn’t Ventus—her heart still beat, louder and stronger than ever.
“I knew you could.” Bonnie stepped back, out of her way. “But you aren’t finished yet.”
Behind her was a road, cutting through the sea without touching it. The road had never been broken after all—she just didn’t have the eyes to see.
“Come on.” Lyra offered her hand, covered with blood and slime. “We can go together!”
There was nobody there. Lyra glanced to either side, but never took her eyes from the road. If she did, she might not find it again.
So she walked. Vines along her skin tore and crumbled with every step, leaving a trail of dead and browning plants behind her. She walked.
Lyra landed in the trees. They were great pines all, towering old growth of a forest that had never felt the lumberjack’s ax. She inhaled, and the world’s breath flooded into her lungs. The world spoke to her, but not with words.
She rolled onto her side, and saw the corpse of an ancient tree, tumbled over and covered with decay. Strangling vines encircled it, brown and dead.
But something emerged from the rotten heartwood—a sinewy green sprout. It cut through the debris, soaring upward as lifetimes passed in seconds. Storms raged, scavengers devoured what was left of its corpse, and the tree grew on. It grew twisted near its crown, but it grew strong.
Lyra stood with it. She had only the dry blood and dirt that stuck to her body for a cloak, but somehow that felt like enough here. She needed the growth of this place for herself.
A herd of deer passed by, hooves thundering as they loped through the dense foliage. Great bees hummed as they moved between the wildflowers. There was a music to it, rhythm written into the shape of every honeycomb and the chirp of every starling.
One instrument was missing. It waited for her, but she didn’t know the words.
“Only one,” said a voice beside her. A shape appeared there, a horse with a shimmering white coat and a mane like a rainbow trapped against its head. “You have to write it.”
Lyra turned towards the speaker. As she did, the forest changed around her. Trees morphed and fused together into Ponyville’s main street, overgrown with vines and foliage. Nature snaked over every surface, songbirds nested on the rooftops, and foxes rummaged freely through backyards.
Only the horse remained, spreading a pair of huge swanlike wings. She said nothing, but the command was there all the same. Lyra walked forward, through the center of the overgrown city.
The ground shook, rock and ruin crumbling in great chunks. A towering brown trunk rose up from beneath, wider than any structure built by human hands. Its branches opened into balconies, galleries, and libraries, flowing with the structure of the tree without killing it.
A door opened as she approached, into a vast chamber lit by flickering of mighty torches.
The tower pulsed beneath her, rumbling with the heartbeat of the world. It shook through her whole body, no longer strangled by darkness around her soul. There was only one thing left to do, if she wanted to join the song.
Lyra found an empty part of the wall, where uncountable other markings formed the lyrics. They were names, of course, each one signed in blood. She already had the pen.
Lyra ripped it out of her chest, broken wood still dripping red. As she did, the wound closed behind it, smooth skin knitting together as rapidly as the accelerated growth of the trees.
She dragged her makeshift pen against the wall, writing out her name in the spot waiting for her.
LYRA HARPER
With the last stroke, her dagger dried, then crumbled away in her fingers. Light pulsed through the dense wood, radiating from every letter written on the walls. Her own shone brightest of all. When the building shook, so did her insides.
Once she had tasted Vitae, filling her with stolen strength and false immortality. Even when it tasted sweet, it always left her feeling empty. Power, but always false.
Not anymore. The light that burned in her chest wasn’t stolen—it wasn’t even from outside. A seed felt since her earliest days was free of the strangling parasite, and now could finally grow.
Lyra wandered up the tower, or maybe it grew around her. Names blurred past her until they were all a single, uniform glow.
Then she was on a balcony, under a roof formed from a vast stone book. Before her was forest, jungle, ocean, and plain—a planet, seen from uncountable eyes. Horses galloped together across the plain, their coats a rainbow of colors.
“You see now,” said the one beside her. The same great mare who had guided her here, with vast swan wings and a horn rising to a sharp point. Not frightening or aggressive, somehow—yet still mighty.
“I want to understand,” she whispered. “This place—this is how the world is supposed to be.”
“In part,” answered the horse, jostling her shimmering mane. “There are others. In union is the Phenomenal realized. Its stones form the foundation of the firmament. Its trees cast the shadow that shelters what lives. Here life learns to grow, to adapt, to fill every void and spread into every gap. The great choirs of the Umbra are pale reflections of the mighty principles written here.”
Lyra nodded along, though not a word of it meant anything to her. The truth of every word was written in the stones. “Teach me everything.”
“One day, perhaps. But now—your soul is still weighed down by smoke and shadow. The Tellurian calls to you. For now, you must return. Tomorrow? Perhaps. Nurture what was planted.”
Her horn flared with light, blinding even in the radiant dawn of a world free from darkness. Lyra reached for her, hoping to hold on, to stay. Soft, smooth fur passed over her fingers. But she couldn’t hold on—not to something so perfectly soft. The horse’s magic sent her screaming back to reality.
“Not yet!” Lyra jerked into a sitting position, eyes wide and staring. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her skin. Something clung to her fingers, so fine it might be threads of silk.
Her memory still shone, more real than anything before her eyes. There was a hole in her heart, a terrible wound she’d ripped with a sword of her own making. But for all the terror of that blow, the pain was a welcome thing.
A bone had to be broken again if it started to heal incorrectly. Even a masterful surgeon had to slice through living flesh with his scalpel before he reached the cancerous tumor beneath. There was no infestation there anymore—right? She cut it all out, every scrap!
Not quite.
“Deep breaths, Lyra. In and out, nice and slow.”
Reality settled heavily into place around her. She was on her back in a cot, surrounded by fine wooden walls and the even light of candles. The smells were strange too, but at least the voice wasn’t. She knew the speaker instantly.
“Reagan?” Her eyes strained, then focused. Her friend still wore her waitress uniform, still had a pair of chopsticks tucked in her hair. She must’ve run straight from work!
“Hey Harper. Guess we’re not gonna make Azucar tonight. Too bad. I’ve been working on my songs all week.”
Lyra smiled in spite of herself. She was hardly close with this particular girl—she’d moved in later than the others, instead of growing up with her. But she was friendly enough, despite never answering questions about her past.
“Where am I?”
Her friend shrugged one shoulder, releasing Lyra. “Good question. Maybe you can answer one of mine first?”
Other sounds rumbled through a nearby door, and more voices. One was Tabitha’s, though that wasn’t who she noticed first. Another girl rested in an identical cot against the far wall—Akiko. She’d been covered with a blanket, though thankfully not over her head. If that were true, Lyra might’ve thought...
“Is Akiko okay?” she demanded. “That lady hit her pretty hard. I know it sounds silly, but I think it was magic.”
“Breathe,” Reagan said, this time as a command. She sat on the empty cot opposite her, then offered her a little cup of steaming tea. “Drink first.”
From a stranger, she would’ve refused the glass. Somewhere like this—Lyra couldn’t be sure whether the one making the offer was friendly or monstrous. Even humans had reason to put something in a drink.
But not one of her friends. Lyra drank, and found the flavor—impossible.
She inhaled sharply, and her hands started to shake. “What is this?” She didn’t wait for an answer, swallowing the rest in a few gulps.
It was tea, but not any flavor she’d ever tasted in Akiko’s shop. A single flavor energized her, along an axis that she couldn’t name or identify. It was like drinking liquid possibility, tingling down her fingers and toes and into a place she hadn’t even known was there. “Can I have another?”
Reagan chuckled. “Maybe.” She took the glass from her fingers. “If you answer me first.” She didn’t wait for Lyra’s agreement. “You were dreaming just now, weren’t you? More real than anything you’ve ever seen.”
Lyra nodded. She glanced nervously to either side, searching for more tea. She saw none—nor her purse, or her discarded weapon. Just the three of them, and a few shelves of medical supplies. A secret clinic, with floors made from the same wood as the basement under Akiko’s tea shop.
There was lots of space down here. A dozen different doors I never opened.
“Yeah. I did.” Lyra glanced down at her fingers, and found the little wisps of fluff she’d been holding there were already gone.
“You dreamed of a place you’d never seen,” Reagan pressed. “You went somewhere. It wasn’t easy to get there. But eventually, you did.”
She nodded. “How do you know that? Reagan—what the hell is going on? Someone attacked Akiko with lightning. They just ripped it out of the walls, threw it around like it was something real. Why?”
Reagan gripped her shoulder with one hand, so hard it hurt. “How did it end?”
She hadn’t ever told anyone but Bonnie about her dreams before. Yet this time, she didn’t feel as though she would take no for an answer.
“If I tell you, can I have more of that drink? It isn’t really tea, I can tell. It isn’t even water.”
Reagan nodded in exasperation. Somehow, Lyra knew she was already expecting the answer.
“There was a place—filled with names. Millions and millions of them. I’m not sure... exactly why I did it. But I knew I had to. I signed it.”
Reagan swore under her breath. She rose, backing away from the bench. Another second later, she had a fresh glass in hand.
Lyra took it, wrapping her fingers around the fine porcelain. She held it to her lips, breathing deep—then lowered it again.
“I’ve been down this road before. What’s in here—is it Vitae? Purified maybe, centrifuged, or—”
“It’s Tass,” Reagan answered. “The hell is Vitae? Some drug?”
“Yes,” she answered, without hesitation. She inhaled again, searching for that familiar metallic tang of blood purified through the body of a beast.
If someone offered a glass of it to her now, Lyra could never have turned it down. Part of her craved its strength, the health and life that came for one who served the kindred.
Nothing forced her to drink this. She lowered the glass to her lap, nursing it with both hands. Just to see if she could.
She did.
“It’s a vampire thing,” said another voice, weak and struggling. Akiko rested up against the wall now, her expression unfocused. Whatever impossible things she’d suffered earlier in the day, her pain was no less human.
I can help her. She wasn’t sure where that thought came from, like so many others that tormented her. Maybe it rose from deep in her chest. She knew pain, and she knew how it could end.
To live is to grow. To grow is to mend, strengthen, and improve. To repair, replenish, and restore. Did all that knowledge come from a cup of tea?
“Don’t ask how Lyra knows. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Lyra lifted the glass, then took a sip. Possibility flooded her. Not pleasure, not the familiar aching she satisfied whenever she took another sip of stolen blood. No guilt filled her when she drank. Instead, there was only comfort. She ought to have this, far more than this if the world was fair. Maybe everyone should.
“You’re still hurt,” Lyra said. She stood up, passing Reagan back her empty glass. “Your leg is broken.”
Her old friend nodded weakly. “Reagan already set it for me. But the best we can do is speed things up. I’ll be... wearing a cast for another week at least.”
“Two,” Reagan corrected, without a second’s hesitation. “And that’s only if we top you up every morning. Four weeks if we don’t.”
Lyra sat down on the empty cot across from her friend, just like Reagan had done for her. “Who was that?”
“Tempest Shadow,” Akiko answered. “Pretty sure. Matches everything we thought about her. Obrimos—throwing lightning around like she’s never heard of paradox.” She leaned back against the wall, groaning with the pain of supreme exhaustion.
Not that it mattered—Lyra didn’t understand most of what was going on in front of her. But if there was something she could do to help...
Possibility twisted and spun through her now, concentrated opportunity. With it came another voice, somehow without and within her in the same moment. She wasn’t sure which, and maybe it didn’t matter.
This is how it always ought to be. Life flowing through the Phenomenal. You do not change, you return.
She touched Akiko’s shoulder. Her friend looked up, confused and nervous. But much too weak to resist when Lyra acted.
There were no words exactly, just concepts—the same ones she’d seen in that strange jungle. Regrowth, when her own body tore open and healed again. She could command the same of her friend.
Akiko twitched, recoiling from her. She squealed, cowering up into a corner. She touched her back to the wall, pulling both legs up to her chest.
Little wisps of light emerged from Lyra’s fingers—curling vines that wrapped around her wrist, reaching all the way back to her heart. They traced along her veins in an organic, sprawling pattern of light. For that instant, Lyra could almost feel that pure living place beneath her feet. Longing ached in her, desperate need to find a way back.
Then she was back in the fancy wooden basement.
Both of Akiko’s legs were whole. No wound remained, just pale skin emerging from the edges of a fresh bandage. “That was magic!
“Yep.” Reagan folded both arms, leaning up against the wall. “Guess I should’ve waited until she got up. Kinda... wasted my time with first aid.”
Lyra mouthed the word “impossible,” but this time it didn’t leave her lips. What was that thing Akiko had said about lies? It wasn’t just possible, it was natural!
Her friend didn’t stare down in shock for too long. After a few seconds she peeled away at the bandages, poking at her leg with one hand. She tensed, but didn’t react to the touch. “She wasn’t a mage this morning, Reagan. Sleepwalker, but that was recent.”
The tension faded, gone as quickly as it had come. There was so much more Lyra could do—but only that one flash of power demanded itself of her. The rest could wait until the world made more sense.
Besides, something else had changed. That swirling possibility inside her had already diminished. What once had been a storm was now only a drizzle. There was power in the tea, power I had to use to heal her.
None of this made sense—but reality did not seem to care about what once made sense to her.
Abandon the illusions of the Quintessence. The Phenomenal is so much more than a lie.
Lyra stood up, handing Reagan the other empty cup. Who are you?
If there was anyone in her mind, they didn’t reply.
“That thing you signed—it’s called a Watchtower. The Nimbus I just saw tells me Thyrsus. And the... healing five seconds after your Mystery Play thing. This one’s packing heat, Twi. Literally too—hell of a gun you had.”
That brought her back to reality, and a bevy of far more familiar fears. Her gun—Bonnie’s gun, borrowed to keep her safe. In a way, she supposed it had done its job. “I need that back. It’s not mine.”
Akiko stood up too. She held to the wall a few seconds, eyeing her formerly-broken leg with anxiety. Then she set her weight on it, and exhaled. “In a bit. Rar—Tabby’s patching things up out there. She wanted to poke at it before we gave it back.”
Never show it to anyone. Lyra clenched one hand to a fist, then sighed. “Tabitha is... out there?” She tapped the door with two fingers. “She’s part of this... thing... too?”
Reagan patted her shoulder with one hand. “Longer than any of us. Atlantean bloodline stuck up and perfect...”
“Flattered you think so, darling. But I’m afraid you’re mistaken—Akiko here was still a tweenager when she first saw the Watchtower. I walked that path a little while later.”
Reagan spun, and Lyra followed her. There was another door against the far wall, almost hidden by a shelf. That door was open now, and her friend stood there.
Closer than Reagan, anyway—Tabitha had lived in Ponyville as long as she could remember.
Of all the ways Lyra imagined the burgeoning fashion designer, it wasn’t wearing plain overalls, heavy gloves, and boots. It wasn’t with a hardhat glowing with pale blue light either. “Lyra. I heard you came to Akiko’s rescue. We’re all lucky you were here—she least of all.”
Lyra nodded weakly. She wobbled, barely keeping her feet. Life itself sustained her, replenished her, overflowing into her muscles and joints. She stopped swaying.
“Happy to help. Would do it again in a heartbeat. But do you think maybe someone could tell me what actually happened? Maybe at Azucar? I could really use a drink.”
They didn’t go to Azucar3, but they did give her a drink. Just through the door was the basement retreat, with its size stretching far greater than the building overhead.
Despite having the same shape, the underground rooms were entirely transformed since the last time. Every broken glass container was back together, every piece of torn art hanging where it used to be. Even the walls weren’t burned anymore.
They didn’t go back to the dead-end where she had fired at a dangerous assailant with Bonnie’s gun—but through another door, to a tiny lounge with its own bar, and many glittering bottles.
“She saved your life, you get to tell her.” Reagan went straight over to the bar, where she immediately started pulling out glasses, bottles, and other supplies. Her friend might not always be the friendliest girl, but at least she knew how to mix a delicious drink.
Tabitha led her to a table, and soon Akiko joined her on the other side.
“Where is—” Akiko began.
“With the Hierarch now,” Tabitha interrupted. “Heaven knows what she will say about all this. Will it be open war, or pasting happy masks over our faces for a few more months of pretending. As though we can’t all tell precisely what’s happening here.”
Lyra settled into the corner chair with the weight of someone several times her size. She leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping that maybe she would sleep. The rest would not come—inexplicably, she wasn’t tired anymore.
“Everything you say is making it worse,” she muttered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What does it have to do with that vampire who attacked you?”
“Vampire?” Tabitha gasped. “Heavens, no. None of those awful beasts. Something so simplistic would never penetrate Akiko’s wards, let alone prove so dangerous to her. If they knew the truths she mastered, they would keep miles from her at all times.”
I want to learn those truths too, Lyra thought. But she didn’t ask them now. If she let them change the subject even for a moment, they might slip away to more irrelevant conversation about who knew what, and not explain what had just happened.
“Wait, those are real?” Reagan smacked a bottle with one hand, dislodging the cap with entirely non-supernatural dexterity.
“Yeah,” Lyra said, right along with Akiko and Tabitha. She quickly fell silent again, so her friends could continue with their explanation.
“Tempest isn’t a vampire—” Akiko finally said. “At least not in the way you’re thinking. A vicious predatory monster, yes. The ones she serves are even worse. I don’t know how, but she must’ve heard we had this.”
She settled something on the table between them—and instantly all attention turned towards her. There was the flat mechanical pocket watch that wasn’t a watch, resting gently on the polished wood. “That gun you used saved my life. Interrupted her spell somehow. That shot was perfect timing. Right when she was throwing vulgar magic around. Tossed it right into her own face.”
“Magic,” Lyra pressed. “That’s what you call it? What she was doing...”
“What we all do.” Tabitha set something down on the table between them, then pushed it over to Lyra. Her gun, undamaged from the last time she’d seen it. The frost had melted from its wires and tubes, and the connector on its side was still loose.
“Except for this. No magic here, Akiko. No enchantment, not even a pinch of luck. There’s nothing exotic in its construction, yet clearly it worked as intended. One evil sorceress inflicted enough harm to make her flee. If the rest of us had been there, perhaps we could have caught her, and brought her to justice. Assuming the Consilium was in the mood to administer it.”
Reagan set something down in front of her, a tiny glass, with several colors of liquid swirling around inside. “Here. Try this.”
Lyra wasn’t usually big on liquor. Tonight she took it without a second thought, then knocked it back in a single swig. It felt smooth going down, with a slight fizz. Nothing supernatural this time, no concentrated possibility flooded her chest. Unless a slight tingle on her lips counted as magic.
“Good.”
Reagan smiled back. “I’ll do another for you in half an hour, if you want one. But your weight... probably won’t.”
She shrugged. “Depends on whether everyone answers my questions. That was magic, right? What is magic? And why can I do it?”
“Magic is the result of imposing the true laws of the Supernal on the material world. Its true laws force the material to conform to your will, at least for a little while. That can mean throwing lightning around, or something as simple as seeing things other people don’t notice.”
“Or repairing a perfectly good Sanctum after it’s been trashed by a barbarian attack. Would that I could do anything for the tea. That’s the greatest tragedy of the evening.”
That was closer to what Lyra expected from Akiko—complex, methodical.
Akiko might not make complete sense, but what she said still felt true.
“Which you can do because of the whole—tower thing. Signing your name, all that.” Reagan passed around glasses to the other girls, then kept one in her own fingers. “Congrats, I guess. Not sure if this was what you wanted, but it’s where you are. Now that you know, you can’t leave.”
“I wouldn’t want to forget. Go back to the way it was before, thinking the world was out to get me and I couldn’t do anything to protect myself...” Lyra set down the glass, running her fingers over it. She traced symbols into the glass, symbols that meant nothing to her at first—but now she knew. She’d seen them written on the stones, grown into the leaves and bark of that great forest.
She didn’t yet understand precisely what those things meant. But she didn’t have to understand everything right away. She would learn. Eventually.
“Easy to say now, before you know what it means. Akiko. You like teaching.”
“Right.” Akiko sat up straighter, ignoring her glass “And you did save my life. Thank you for that, Lyra. You could not have chosen a better time to awaken.”
She nodded again. “I don’t think I really picked it, but you’re welcome. I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll be even happier when you explain.”
“We need to go back a ways,” Akiko said. “I should inform you, most of this is speculation, guesswork, or based on unreliable sources. But it’s all we have, so it’s the story we use. It all started with Atlantis...”
Her friend told her. Lyra would’ve dismissed such a story as superstition or myth out of hand the night before. To her ears, it wasn’t much more logical than Terri’s stories of crystal healing and earth spirits.
Akiko told of an ancient city in the days before civilization—a city of wonders and achievement beyond anything she could imagine. A city built on the bones of dragons, written in the words of the true tongue. Atlantis.
Then it fell, plunging all the world into darkness, and stealing the light of magic from every human soul. Until at last the Watchtowers rose, shining beacons across the newly-created absence called the Abyss.
“That’s what happened to you,” Akiko finally finished. “Your soul saw the Watchtowers, like ours did. You followed the call, you came, and you passed whatever trial waited for you. You signed the tower, binding yourself to the realm it was in forever. With that connection, your soul isn’t asleep anymore, it’s Awakened. You’re a mage.”
Not the first time she’d heard that particular word—but now it made a little more sense. It carried the weight of that miraculous healing, of the truth she saw in dream, and the ephemeral creatures she met there.
“Why me?” she asked. “My girlfriend—” She fell silent, turning over those words in her head before speaking again.
“If we knew the answer to that, we would all be happier,” Tabitha said. “Believe me, it’s about the most important question any mage has ever considered. How can we take the sleeping masses of Earth and wake them up? How do we return the birthright that was stolen from them?”
Reagan slid over a barstool, propping her legs up on the table, then leaning back. “Not a clue. If we thought we could, we’d be doing it all the time, every chance we got. But nobody knows why.”
“Exposure to magic usually helps,” Akiko said. “And you’ve spent much of your life around us. Magic was all around you, constant exposure. Maybe some of it sunk in eventually.”
Not them. Not her thoughts, exactly—that was the other voice again. The more it spoke, the more easily she could distinguish it from her own thoughts. Not just her mind or her imagination, this was something much deeper. You know.
Just because you say that doesn’t make it true.
The voice didn’t respond. Lyra hesitated, and nearly asked about it—but kept her mouth closed. If she told her friends she was hearing voices, they might just think she was insane, and not teach her anything else.
“It’s entirely unpredictable,” Akiko finished. “There are certain signs. Sleepwalkers often manifest powers of their own with enough time. Others serve the pentacle faithfully their entire lives without ever awakening. But from how you spoke this morning, I suspect your awakening may have been at the threshold for weeks.”
Now she regretted asking. Once Akiko got started with something mysterious and academic, she could probably go for hours. But Lyra wasn’t ready to ponder the mysteries of the universe. She had more pressing matters on her mind.
“What happens to me now?” she asked, a little louder. “Now that I’m... a mage, you called it? You’re all still... normal. You have jobs, families, and... other stuff.” She eyed Reagan and Akiko. But if the two knew she knew, they made no visible sign. “What changes?”
“Rather a lot.” Tabitha stood up, circling around the table. “You wield the fires of creation now, Lyra. By your will are fallen laws undone. By your voice, whispers of truth are kindled again, and dreams stir in sleeping souls.”
“She doesn’t need your Ladder poems,” Reagan said. She pushed Tabitha’s shoulder, making her stumble back. “We have a responsibility—that’s the three of us here—to report you to the Consilium. That’s all the other mages anywhere nearby. Once that happens, everyone is going to want to recruit you. All five orders. Probably not the sixth, after what you did to their local—whatever Tempest is. But the five. If you’re smart, you join us before that happens. The other girls and I, we’re a—Cabal. That’s the word. There’s only one you haven’t met, Starlight. She’s telling the locals about what happened. When she gets back, someone will be with her. You can tell them you’ve chosen the Free Council, and we’ll take care of the rest. You stay with friends, instead of strangers.”
Orders. Free Council. Cabal. None of that meant anything to Lyra. But she knew friendship. If she could trust anyone, it was people she already knew.
“They’ll train you,” Akiko continued. “There are rules you need to learn. Resources they’ll make available to you. The Mysterium’s hollow is leagues above the other orders. You can even dreamwalk there, if you want.”
“Which she doesn’t understand either,” Reagan said. “Look at her face. This girl is either going to melt into a puddle or turn you into a toad. She can probably do that, so don’t piss her off.”
Turn her into a toad? The statement was so obviously absurd she wanted to dismiss it out of hand. Something taken from every old story about evil witches could only be taking the piss. Right?
“I don’t know about changing anyone into a frog—but I have to talk to my girlfriend. She needs to know about this.”
She stood up, but someone caught her arm. Reagan, her grip as firm as before. “Wait. What we just said about rules? That’s... a big one. Thou shalt not speak of the Mysteries to a sleeping soul. They get real biblical about enforcing it too. If someone knows more than they should...”
She didn’t finish, leaving her words hanging over Lyra like a blade.
“Hello?” called a voice, echoing from down the hall. “What words do you sing, pentacle?”
Lyra’s companions each looked up, turning sharply for the doorway. It was Akiko who answered—not in English, but somehow Lyra understood anyway. “A new path to the same truth,” she yelled back. Then in English, she added “In the parlor!”
The door opened moments later, and several figures rushed inside.
All wore the same strange outfit—a dark cloak, covered in marks and shimmering symbols. They each wore masks, an ancient style with only narrow slits for eyes. Each carried little wooden objects in their hands, with the same delicacy they might wield automatic rifles. Wands?
“Hail, Libertines,” said one, sliding their wand away in a dramatic, ritual fashion. “We’re here to escort you. And to take any threatened thing into safekeeping.”
“Nothing is threatened,” Reagan lied. How she’d gotten in front of the table so fast, or emptied what was resting there moments before, Lyra couldn’t tell. But she spoke with such confidence, Lyra would never have known it was a lie—if she hadn’t seen the encounter herself. “Except us, obviously.”
The strangers shared a look, or at least Lyra assumed that was what they were doing through their masks. After a few moments of silence, one gestured to Lyra.
The same one spoke again—male, she thought, though she couldn’t be sure. There was something distorted about the voice emerging from behind a stone mask. “And this one. You have not defiled the Mysteries with a sleeping mind, have you? You’ve always been unspeakably liberal, but not so brazen.”
“Nothing of the kind,” Tabitha said, stepping protectively between the strangers and Lyra’s seat. “She’s newly awakened. We just completed her initiation in the Council—haven’t we girls?”
“Unfortunate timing, sister.” The speaker approached Lyra in a blink, clasping her hand and yanking her forcefully into a standing position. There was no skin contact, only a pair of black leather gloves. “But we must know before we open the way, or risk Paradox. What did you learn tonight?”
There was more of their double meanings—the endless maze of mysteries, questions, and lies. They obviously expected something specific, but what?
She tensed, trying and failing to pull away. But the stranger’s grip was too strong. So she reacted with something else—magic? “You’re blind,” she whispered, horrified. “Your eyes are...”
“That will do.” The stranger released her, a little too forcefully, turning their back on her. “If she enlists with your Council, you will have the duty of instructing her in proper behavior. Search not where not invited, sister.”
“Stand close,” said another of the masked figures, gesturing with their wand. “The Hierarch waits.”
Lyra obeyed, joining her friends in a tight circle around the masked strangers.
Akiko reached over, taking her hand and squeezing it with a gentle, reassuring pressure. “Close your eyes. It makes it easier.”
“Makes what—”
The strangers circled around her, whispering in that language that wasn’t anything she had ever learned, yet was somehow perfectly clear. “Holograph, distance, transit, converge, open... gate.” While she spoke, both hands traced through the air, leaving a faint trail in behind her. She was writing, though the words were not clear the same way as the words she spoke.
It’s so crude, isn’t it? Babbling in the true tongue. Spells are poetry. This—this is barbaric magic.
There was nothing crude about what happened next. Lyra’s eyes weren’t closed—she saw space fold, two locations lifted upward through a dimensionless infinity. Ripped, pulled, torn—and the basement was gone.
Lyra spent the next several hours in a waking delirium. She moved through strange places, speaking strange words to strange people. She learned some things—though not as many as she would’ve liked. After having her world transformed so completely in one night, only a few details really stuck with her.
There were more mages in Canterlot—a few hundred of them at most, based on the small scale of their hidden headquarters. The dean of the city’s humble community college was also somehow their powerful leader, wielding the fire of creation so completely that all others respected her.
But that also left her with the second, more important truth.
Seeing the incredible powers a mage could field dredged up plenty of old memories in Lyra—memories of other creatures with similar powers. Despite their beautiful exterior, the Kindred were beasts underneath, obligate parasites more monstrous than most even understood.
These mages—were still people, underneath. They had jobs, families, and ordinary lives. Dean Tan began their meeting by offering her a granola bar and reminiscing about Lyra’s harp performance at their graduation ceremony.
There were plenty of confusing things, plenty of scary new abilities and creatures she didn’t understand. Her first few hours of instruction sounded more like something out of a Lovecraft short story than anything scientific.
But they weren’t vampires. There were no human slaves here. There were some almost ordinary people, who Tan affectionately called “interns,” working in clerical or other minor roles in the headquarters. Sleepwalkers—those who could see and understand magic without unraveling it.
None of them seemed enslaved—more like ambitious students, studying and working all they could in the hope of one day awakening themselves. None had scars on their necks from repeated feeding, or haunted looks in their eyes. Mages might be many things—maybe they were all insane, or secretly evil, or plotting against her. But they weren’t parasites. They didn’t hunger the way vampires did. She could look at herself in the mirror without feeling revulsion.
They didn’t whisper the word “human” with disdain on their voices, or switch it interchangeably for “chattel.” The mages had their own word, “sleeper.” They spoke it with pity instead, and a protective, almost parental tone. Sleepers were the victim of some ancient calamity, one that stripped all humanity from their birthright. Until it could be restored, those who awakened were their protectors. Like Bonnie. We’re more alike now.
Lyra could never learn everything they wanted to teach her, not when she was so overwhelmed. But since the mages were human too, they didn’t expect her to. So long as she could remember one principal lesson, they would allow her to return to her life, and study more gradually.
That lesson was Paradox. She still didn’t know exactly what it was, or why it was so dangerous—but avoiding it was simple enough for her to master.
“Sleepers may not ever see the Mysteries. The Quintessence in their souls will unravel them, strengthening the Lie. Only subtle magic can be wielded around them. To teach the Mysteries is a crime—to leave a spell in their presence is a greater crime. The Paradox it might create.
“Even as a neophyte, there will be no excuses for this crime. A small breach might leave thousands dead, or spawn some manifestation that haunts all Awakened for the rest of time.”
They made her swear, made her repeat a dozen different ways that she wouldn’t speak of what she’d seen to the sleeping souls, or brazenly work her magic in front of them.
“So we... can’t do anything?” Lyra finally asked, as soon as the Hierarch had retired, and only Akiko remained. “Regular people are everywhere. We can’t use magic around them, so... nothing changed.”
“We can’t use vulgar magic,” Akiko corrected. “We can’t do anything obvious where sleepers are watching. Doesn’t mean you can’t do anything. Sleepers don’t want to see magic—they actively ignore it, avoid it. The Quintessence inside them recoils wherever Supernal light shines. The ones who notice—they’re already worth investigating. They might be sleepwalkers already, or on the verge of awakening. I still can’t believe I let you just go to work after what you told me.”
“I’m glad you did,” Lyra countered. “I might’ve been electrocuted before I figured out... everything.” She gestured vaguely with one hand.
“True. We shouldn’t question the Oracles. Even if we can’t always understand their vision.”
It was early morning by the time Lyra finally stepped out onto the familiar streets of Ponyville, exiting the city bus a few blocks from home. There was probably someone in the “Consilium” who could give her a ride, even with Akiko’s car now trashed. But part of her felt better if they didn’t know exactly who she was and where she’d come from.
So Lyra was back on familiar streets, walking through a town she'd lived in since graduating. Her familiar neighbors were only just waking up, passing her on the road in their little cars. Despite the incredible transformation Lyra had experienced, life went on. The flowers opened and faced the sun. The trees stretched higher, and stray cats prowled in the alleys.
As she walked, a black one emerged from the shadowy corner, mewling his usual greeting.
Lyra stopped. “One sec, sweetie. Let's see what I've got.” She dug around in her pocket for a moment, digging in vain. Sometimes she remembered to keep a can of wet food, or at least a packet of dried fish. Today she had forgotten both.
She dropped to one knee, running one hand along the cat's smooth fur. He was doing better than the last time they spoke—no more missing patches, though there was still a gap torn in one ear, likely the consequence of another devastating street fight. Could she heal that wound the way she'd mended Akiko's broken leg?
Probably not the best use of her magic just now. She still knew so little about where the power came from, or how long it would last. Beyond Reagan's magical tea, she wasn't sure how else she could get more of that possibility into herself, to fuel more magic. That particular lesson hadn't come up yet. “Sorry I don't have more for you. I'll bring the tuna flavor next time, that's the one you like.”
The cat looked up, meeting her eyes. Bright green, more vivid than any human. Remarkable comprehension lurked underneath. She was barely even surprised when it spoke to her.
“I thought I would deserve a little more, after being so helpful. Did I ever lie?”
That voice—Lyra recognized it instantly. She jerked away from the animal, toppling sideways in the alley. Her back smacked up against the wall, and she could retreat no further. A mangy tomcat was hardly a physical threat, even to someone as slight of frame as Lyra.
“How are... you...”
“Not, anymore.” The cat prowled over to her, rubbing up against her thigh the way felines often did. Not the least bit strange, except that he was speaking. “You're doing this. You learned while you were up there, I think. Faster than some I've taken an interest in. I appreciate the brevity.”
To her left, cars kept passing on the street, along with the occasional morning pedestrian. Ponyville wasn't an ordinary suburb—it was centuries old, built long before the automobile made everything far away. That meant plenty of its people just walked, and would see her here. Would they hear her making silly cat noises? If so, that was hardly naked magic—lots of pet owners did that.
It was still enough to make her self-conscious. She stood up, careful not to kick or step on the feline's tail as she did so. “You were in my mind.”
“Your soul, actually.” The cat hopped up onto a nearby dumpster, so that he was almost at eye-level. “But not anymore, obviously. I needed a bit of a break, and I thought I might catch you on your way home. Lucky for you.”
She folded both arms, glowering down at the black cat. She was past arguing with impossible things anymore—that path led only to madness.
“Tell me who you are, or I'm going home.”
“Capper,” he answered, without hesitation. “That's a good cat name, isn't it? I'm your familiar—or I could be. If you're smart.”
She turned her back on him, stalking out of the alley. This was it—Lyra was at her limit. Everyone talking to her like it was supposed to mean something, and there wasn't room for more.
Without looking over her shoulder, Lyra somehow felt the little paws scampering along behind her. Scarcely ten seconds had passed before she heard him, voice a little distant, but still clear to her.
“You don't know what you'd be missing out on! You have any idea how hard other mages sometimes search to find one like me, all the rituals and hunting and bindings and oaths... it's quite involved.”
She slowed her pace a little—enough that the cat could keep up without straining too badly. I don't want to do anything I might regret. I might wish I'd listened to him later.
She said nothing, not until she was out of earshot of anyone else on the street. “You were helping me earlier?”
“Trying to.” He scampered along a nearby planter box, dodging between the flowers. “Sometimes you listened. It would've been easier if you paid more attention. But don't feel too bad—most humans don't hear me at all. Even when they wake up, they're so stuck in their old ways of thinking. Old shackles that need to break. Two legs, two arms, two eyes. Clever, stupid. You're the most compassionate creatures on this planet, but also the cruelest. Go ahead, risk your lives to save the beached whale, then keep pumping poison into the sea.”
She stopped beside the planter-box, pretending like she had just noticed him there, and wanted to pet the cat again. She let him touch up against her palm, then ran her knuckles along his side, following the grain of his fur. “You're not a real cat.”
“I'm in one,” he answered, circling around her hand the same way as ever. “My arrangement with the animal is no concern of yours. I'm offering you something, Lyra Harper. Think carefully before you refuse. You won't see me again otherwise.”
Her girlfriend would've denied him out of spite. Bonnie did poorly with boundaries and rules imposed by others. She always made her own decisions, even when they were difficult. Even when they broke the rules.
But Lyra listened. Her memory of the night was already blurring together, but some clarity remained. Those whispers from outside had always felt useful, even if the meaning wasn't always obvious. “What happens if I say yes?”
“Familiar,” he repeated, slightly annoyed. “Better than any other familiar you'll ever find. I'm older than they are. Worked with your kind for a long, long time. I can teach you things they've forgot. Help you with your magic. Keep you company when you're on four legs, so you don't hurt yourself. Walk beside you through the Gauntlet into Shadow. Watch the ones you love when you cannot. Channel your spells through my paws, if you wish me to.”
He settled onto his haunches there, licking at his paw with sudden, casual comfort. As though that long list of incredible things were no more interesting than picking a dressing for his salad.
“What was the part about four legs?”
He mewled in frustration, loud enough that she backed away from him. There was no meaning behind it, or no meaning more than the emotion radiating from him. “Who else would transform themselves but a mage of Life and Spirit? That you even asked shows how important it would be to have a chaperone. Me, obviously. A cat who will answer all your stupid questions and keep you from stepping into the path of an oncoming train.”
A cat who can whisper things into my soul. Even by accident, he told her more about her powers than she retained during a night of hushed conversations in the Consilium’s hidden headquarters. “What do you get out of all this?”
He hopped down from the planter, brushed past her leg, then walked ahead of her, down the familiar route to her home. “A listening ear. An end to boredom. A friend who remembers what flavor of wet food to give me.”
She trailed behind him, keeping her voice a low whisper. “Sounds... like I get more than you do. You’ll do whatever I tell you?”
He laughed—high, mewling, almost giggling. “I’m a familiar, not a slave. I won’t charge to my death for you. I won’t sell my soul for you. But I’ll be your friend. I can even dreamwalk with you, how many other familiars can do that? Without masters of the art, none!”
She sighed. “Bonnie is gonna be furious with me. She doesn’t like animals much.”
“She likes mages a lot less, but here you are.”
“How do I agree?”
The cat scampered past her, circling around her legs once in a sudden burst of energy. He was still young, still small. An older tomcat would never move that way. “You just did. Let me prove how useful I can be to you, Lyra! Your girlfriend is already home. See the car in your spot—that’s not hers, but she drove it. She needs you.”
They reached her apartment door. Lyra went for her key, then stopped. The door hadn’t shut properly—it was still open a crack.
Lyra nudged it with her foot, peering through the opening. Something deep red was splotched on the floor, leaving a wet trail towards the kitchen.
After years a slave to it, Lyra knew that smell better than anything. Human blood.
Lyra hesitated at the threshold, balling one hand into a fist. Her other reached into her purse, wrapping tight around the barrel of her borrowed gun. No ammo left. It used up its only tank. She released it just as quickly, eyeing the cat beside her. “Is it...”
“No one else is there,” the cat whispered, though maybe that was just her imagination. Could a cat even whisper? “You should be able to feel that. Open up your eyes and feel the pulse of the living world, Lyra. The heartbeat... it sounds within all things.”
She did. She wasn't sure exactly how—truth she had learned, memories of tower and jungle and the strange creatures that spoke there. She could whisper in their words.
The world answered. Suddenly there was her—there was a cat, and the presence that it carried. Then there was... more. Wings caught the air, thousands of teeth gnawed, paws scurried. She wobbled, pushing it all aside. Those little things were not what frightened her.
Her own size, there were—others, in the buildings on either side. Children, their parents, sitting around a breakfast table. On the other side, a single older man, still in bed. Then her home.
Only one life was inside, so faint she'd almost missed it. A single, struggling heartbeat. It might not be beating for much longer if she didn't do something.
“What did I tell you?” the cat said, his voice smug. At least that emotion was familiar for a cat. Lyra shoved the door open, then slammed it closed behind her. She locked each of the several different deadbolts and security bars—all Bonnie's idea, but needed now more than ever.
Not that mechanical locks could keep out someone like Tempest. If she knew who I was...
Lyra couldn't think about that now—all that mattered was finding her girlfriend. Or reaching her, since her supernal senses told Lyra exactly where Bonnie had ended up. There, curled against the kitchen table, in a pool of blood. Bandages wrapped around her, tied inexpertly—they were all soaked through. Only the tourniquet worked, wrapped so tight around her damaged left arm that the flesh was gray and sickly.
“Bonnie? Sweetie?” She dropped down beside her, stomach turning in her chest.
A long time ago, before she first tasted blood, Lyra might have recoiled in horror from such a scene, and fled before she could offer any help. What was she supposed to do for someone so far gone?
“L-Lyre?” She opened one eye. Bonnie groaned, body spasming. She reached for something on the floor—a fallen first aid kit. “Y-you... weren't... thought you would...”
I was supposed to be home to help you.
She rushed to her side, smearing blood over the floor. “Hospital!” she exclaimed. “I only know first aid! I was in the girl scouts, not the marines!”
“C-can't. People... kill me.”
“The flame still burns in her. When it fades, no magic you wield might rekindle it.” Capper circled around the table, pawing gracefully over the smeared blood. He stood behind her girlfriend's broken body, alert. The mockery and humor was gone from him now.
“How?” Lyra demanded. She took hold of her girlfriend, pushing her back down. What little she did know about first aid was that one should never, ever move the injured without proper knowledge.
“Too late,” her girlfriend gasped. “I'm... just hoped... see you again.”
A lie, Lyra thought. Her girlfriend believed it—the whole world did. The world was wrong.
“Rest,” she whispered. Not just words—she spoke to the cells, the brain, her girlfriend's whole being. “Sleep now.”
She did, collapsing against the kitchen floor. Where she wouldn't see whatever came next.
“Like what I did with Akiko's leg,” she guessed. “It's the same thing. She needs to heal.”
“A start,” the cat agreed.
She closed her eyes, and felt the heartbeat of the world. There was so little power left in her—tenuous links trailed thin, fraying at the edges. She'd used so much with Akiko, if only she knew what was coming.
“No stumbling, illiterate mess,” Capper commanded. “Repeat after me instead. Speak these words of power.”
She did. Lyra touched one hand over Bonnie's chest, where it was entirely soaked with blood. She said the words, though she didn't know the language. Capper gave her the meaning. “Long shadows hang heavy over the water. The water is gray, the fish languid and sickly. No more. Flow again first river. Roots reach deep, the creeping things eat and purify. Hearts beat, and red flows. From sun to leaf to flesh to soil again. Now the fish are numerous, the beaver labor at their dam. The wolf stalks in the brush, fat from rich hunting.”
It was language as Lyra had never known it—the meaning of whole sentences in single complex syllables. This wasn't just another tongue, taken from another culture. These were the words the universe was written in—words of command.
Spectral grass appeared beneath her, covering the blood, spreading over the wounds. The heartbeat of the world echoed in her ears again, louder than before. It demanded to be heard, so loud it shook the walls and the building beneath her.
“It's not enough,” she realized, once it was already moving. Magic roiled in her hands, pressure expanding and demanding to be released. She couldn't hold it for long—and it wouldn't be enough. “I need more...”
“Mana,” the cat said. “This is a good lesson. Mana resides within, Lyra. It forms every tissue, every bone. Borrow it.”
Borrow it from... there. His words were a key. There was more, if she was bold enough to take it. Her own flesh overflowed with it. For any other cause, she would've turned away. But not now.
She shuddered, feeling weakness overtake her. Her breathing became labored, and the exertion of the day suddenly pressed harder on her. But as her body weakened, possibility flooded her again. A great outpouring, more than enough to serve for a spell like this.
She released the pressure building between her fingers, into her wounded girlfriend beneath her. Something clattered out onto the ground at her feet—bullets. What she'd done for Akiko might be the same practice—but compared to this, her first attempt was barely a warmup. Bonnie was scarcely alive anymore, might not be in a few minutes.
Slashed skin closed, ruptured organs sealed shut. Pale new skin grew over what was torn and ruined. Gray flesh on her left arm turned deep red and swollen, and the tourniquet cable snapped.
Then Lyra's mana ran out. She collapsed atop Bonnie, barely breathing herself. When she reached for more power—none came. Her body had no more left to give.
She wasn't sure how long she lay there, soaking in her girlfriend's blood. Did she sleep, or only collapse from the shock?
Regardless, something did change. A paw touched her head, nudging her to alertness. She blinked, then sat up. The kitchen was back to normal—no ghostly grass or heartbeat or any other touch of the Supernal.
Except for one. Her girlfriend, with closed wounds and a beating heart. “Not bad. She's gonna be feeling that when she wakes up. But thanks to you, she will wake up.”
Lyra nodded weakly. “I guess I should... wash this off. Get her cleaned up.”
Her familiar pawed away from her through the kitchen. “The sleeping soul recoils from the sight of supernal flame. But give it an excuse, an avenue to believe that the Lie remains, and it will readily accept.”
Lyra ran one hand through Bonnie's hair. Tangled and matted with blood and oil, maybe something else. What were you doing last night? “Which means?”
“Dress her wounds. Clean your home. Give her reason to believe that her injuries were not as severe as she imagined. She will soon remember that truth instead. Make a show.”
“Or I could tell her the truth,” Lyra countered. Her girlfriend was still asleep—she still felt the compulsion on her. Somehow, Lyra's magic remained. How long it would last, she didn't know. “Imagine how happy she'll be. Whoever she's working with... probably get into all kinds of danger. Now they've got a friend who can help.”
The cat laughed again. He circled around her once, before settling down on a single clean patch of kitchen floor. “Your senses are dull yet. You don't feel it. I can.” He pawed at Bonnie's arm, where her jacket was slowly turning brown from dried blood. “Your kind did this. Pentacle or the other... I don't know. I suspect she would not care about the difference if you told her.”
Lyra stood, surveying the damage to her apartment. Blood everywhere—knocked over furniture, where Bonnie had stumbled in, then searched for the huge first aid kit.
Her girlfriend wasn't exactly easy to move around. If Lyra had more of that invisible mana,there were probably ways Lyra could make herself stronger. As it was, she had to rely on patience, leverage, and frequent breaks. She carried her girlfriend to the bath—cut away at her damaged clothes, then cleaned her in warm water.
All the while, she expected her stamina to finally fade, and for her to collapse into unconsciousness, but somehow she never did. She dried her, carried her to the bed. After that came the lie.
She tied fresh bandages where the old ones had been, dabbing a little blood onto the cloth to make it look convincing. She scattered the first aid kit all over the floor, dumping out some of the hydrogen peroxide and spilling it on her fingers.
When she finally made her way downstairs, Lyra found... nothing. No blood, no stains on the wood, just toppled furniture, and a few dented bullets.
“W-what...”
“I may've helped with this one,” said Capper, lounging on her bookshelf. “But the magic was yours, not mine. All that work to clean up, hide the evidence... now it's gone. No blood, no flesh. Only the physical remnants.”
Lyra bent down, scooping up the bullets and running her fingers over them. “You can do that? Cast spells for me?”
“Not exactly, no. Glad you're getting comfortable with the concept, though. Spells. Another barbarian word. Magic used to be so much more. You're a sapling growing into a mighty wind, Lyra. Once there were forests, their trunks so vast that we could ascend to the heavens on their branches. Now... this. The Lie. You shouldn't have to lie to the ones you love. But if you did not, she would kill you.”
“She wouldn't.” Lyra's weakness remained. She ached, and probably would for days to come. But if Bonnie was still breathing, she would accept the pain. “She disobeyed her orders to save me once before. She rode out the withdrawal for weeks.” Was it weeks? It felt like lifetimes, strapped to a plain wooden table in the basement. Screaming, swearing, threatening, clawing—until it ended.
“Maybe. But know this—the pentacle is watching. At this moment, they study you. Are you a wild and untrustworthy new willworker, who demands a short leash and high convent walls? Or are you trustworthy and reliable? Can you follow the rules, prove your discipline, and keep your old life?”
“Walls can keep me trapped?”
“They can now.” He hopped down, landing on the sofa beside her leg. “You can't fly as a bird, scramble over the rocks with delicate paws. You can't hide and creep as a mouse. Your knowledge of the Arcana is impressive for your age, but it is a pale and feeble thing. Do not fight the pentacle—they are old, and some are wise.”
“So do everything they say?” she argued. “Listen to them the way I used to obey Ventus? Not as evil, but still...”
“You aren't a slave,” Capper said. “You already broke their rules today, in some ways. Healing one with knowledge of the Mysteries—some would say she should be allowed to die, for the safety of the pentacle.”
“Not you, though. You helped me.”
“To live is to grow, Lyra Harper. To grow is to improve. Your girlfriend—Bonnie—she's still growing. I take no joy in salted soil and dying flowers. Even if they do no more than bloom, this may be enough. Their likeness brings joy to the gardener. Their thread may be small, but still there is a place in the Tapestry for them.”
Lyra nodded. It was all she could do—wet tears streamed down her face, and her body shook with sobs. She wasn't exactly sure what had held it back all this time—but now the floodgates were open.
She scooped the cat into her arms, and cried like a little girl. Cried so long that the sunlight faded from her kitchen window. Cried until she heard a frightened, confused voice from upstairs. “L-Lyra? Lyra, are you there?”
Lyra stumbled into the bedroom, delirious with exhaustion and pain. She reached the bed, wobbling from the effort. Finally the effects of her night were catching up with her. The last time she had felt this weak, it was while she went cold-turkey from a substance much worse than the worst mortal drug.
But none of that mattered, not when she saw Bonnie's eyes open. “What happened? I thought... thought I was dead.” She held her right arm against her left, where the tourniquet had been. A faint impression still remained on her skin, and that arm remained an angry red. But when Bonnie flexed her left hand, the fingers responded. She wasn't going to lose her arm.
She settled on the bed beside her, wrapping her girlfriend in a hug as tight and desperate as any human could. “I wasn't sure you would wake up. It's good to hear your voice.”
Bonnie returned the hug, some of her characteristic strength already back. If it wasn't for her internal injuries, she might be in better shape than Lyra. “You saved my life,” she said. “You must've... found me. Did you get the bullets out?”
Lyra shook her head once. She couldn't meet her girlfriend's eyes while she lied. Her best chance of actually fooling her was to spend as little time on that topic as she could. “I cleaned you up. Changed your bandages... but I think you're giving me too much credit. I think you got hit by a car or something—there's a lot of bruising on your belly.
“They shot me in the gut.” She opened the robe, letting it slide down off her shoulders. No gunshot wound remained on her chest, just a spiderweb of purple bruises, just below her navel. “Right here.” She touched the skin, eyes widening. “Felt like they did, anyway.”
“Maybe you were wearing a vest.” Lyra touched her cheek, turning her attention away from the improbable injury. “What happened, Bonnie? Why did you come here instead of the hospital? If you really were dying, I couldn't have... made a difference.”
Her girlfriend took a few seconds to reply. But now it was her turn to look conflicted. If she thought Lyra had just saved her life...
“Wizards. They're moving in Canterlot. Maybe... more of them than we ever thought. At least half a dozen. My whole cell... dead. Not sure if my superior made it out or not. They have contacts at the hospital... they'd know I was there. Wouldn't wake up. But if you were home...”
Lyra took her girlfriend's arm, pulling it close to her chest. “I was here. You're alive. But I think we should find you a real doctor.”
Bonnie shook her head once. She touched her injured arm, then her belly. “Metahumans are... the most dangerous monsters we've faced. No physical signs, not even a full genetic scan will show you anything. No weaknesses, except for staying in groups. They're way better at killing solo agents. Or... small cells.”
Her hand fell limply to the bed in front of her. “I need to keep my head down for a while, see if the agency calls. In the meantime...” She slumped backward against the pillows. “Take that stuff off. You smell like a hospital. Help me forget about last night for a while, please.”
Lyra wasn't much stronger than her girlfriend right then—but she could share some of the same feeling.
She woke up sometime the next morning, resting up against Bonnie's chest. It was one of the worst smells she had ever experienced, a caustic mix of sweat, blood, cleaning solution, and other fluids. She was still sore, albeit in some very different areas than before. She might've closed her eyes and gone back to sleep, if Bonnie hadn't whispered something in her ear, a rush of sudden nervous fear.
“There's something in here with us. Breathing.” She lifted the covers, just enough to show the dagger clutched against her bare chest. “I'll kill it.”
A single green eye emerged from the dark, glowing with reflected light. “It would be better if she didn't. For all involved.”
Bonnie's expression turned confused, and she flopped back to the side. “Hold on. Did I just... was that a cat?”
Lyra rested one hand on her girlfriend's wrist. She didn't try to yank the weapon away—that might get her defensive, or encourage her to start fighting. She held on just hard enough that Bonnie would need to move her out of the way first.
“His name is Capper,” she said. “I was going to tell you about him when you got home on Monday. Something else came up.”
Bonnie glanced down again, at the deep bruises covering her belly. Many of those had already faded into pale echoes compared to the day before. Her girlfriend had always been a quick healer.
“We've talked about pets before, Harper. They're not on the lease agreement. If he claws up the walls...”
“You won't claw up the walls, will you Capper?” Lyra asked. “Who's a good kitty?”
Could her girlfriend tell what she was doing? If there was anything magical about it, Bonnie showed no sign of recognition. She just sat up, tucking the knife away under the mattress where it had come from.
He hopped up onto the bedside table, stretching in that exaggerated, feline way. “Get me something to eat, then. A litterbox, a few toys... and a door I can use whenever I want to go outside. Then it's a deal.”
“Talkative little guy,” her girlfriend said. “He looks like a stray, but he doesn't act like one.”
“Long story.” Lyra rolled out of bed, shuffling past the open first aid kit, and all her discarded clothes from the day before. “I still need to pick up some things for him. But I think I'll shower first. You coming?”
She'd never know her girlfriend had nearly died the day before. Bonnie was already strong enough to beat her to the shower. And to do some other things, while she was at it.
The next few hours were almost a return to normal for the two of them—except that her girlfriend didn't put up a fight with her insistence that she adopt the cat. Maybe it was saving her life—however good a job Lyra might've done with the illusion of ordinary medicine, she still caught her girlfriend eyeing her when she thought Lyra wasn't looking.
She thinks I'm hiding something. She's not wrong.
She didn't join Lyra on her trip to the pet store—but Capper did, riding around on her shoulder or occasionally scampering along the ground beside her.
“Your strength is restored,” he said. “You felt it. Gave me a demonstration of it—”
“You didn't have to watch!” she hissed, face turning bright red. “That's gross!”
The cat twisted his shoulders in something almost like a shrug. But they wouldn't be able to talk for long—she was already pulling into the parking lot. Lyra still wasn't sure where the beat up old Civic had come from—but her girlfriend insisted it was safe. God help her if she got pulled over with identification papers from Randolph in the glovebox.
“It is not wrong for you to view from such a human lens,” he said. “But are you surprised that I do not? You should not be. When you can wear an animal skin as I do, you will see. Their thoughts are simpler.”
She smacked the brakes, a little too hard. Hard enough that he went jolting out of his seat, yowling in protest. “I'm not gonna turn... gross,” she said, twisting the key sharply in the ignition. Maybe a little too hard—but this car hardly inspired her to take good care of it. She wouldn't be surprised if parts fell off during the drive.
“Your perspective will shift. If you are a bird or a cat or a horse or whatever, you will think like one. The power to maintain the singularity of human thought requires total mastery of Life. You will never reach that mastery without walking in a thousand shapes. Only when you have worn many skins will you know how to maintain the mind of your own. If you choose. Not all willworkers of the Stone Book make such an effort.”
She said nothing to him during the next little while, which was even worse. While she filled a cart with cat supplies, she could do nothing but listen to his mewed instructions, and not react with more than an occasional pat or whisper. Plenty of other pet owners brought their animal friends into the store. They all needed leashes. Hers wielded the secret truths that wrote the universe.
This one was mostly telling her about how pointlessly prudish humans were, and how she would surely see that once her eyes were opened. While those words largely disgusted her, the truth burned underneath gripped her mind and wouldn't let go: she could change shape. Even the other girls had said as much, if only incidentally.
It wasn't going to turn gross—but some part of her knew that already. Capper wasn't being serious—he was tormenting her, mocking the other humans who came up to give him affection while he mewed immensely graphic, lascivious things he'd done in the back alleys and dark corners of Ponyville.
Finally she was at her trunk, with a cart full of supplies. She popped it, only to stare down in horror at what was inside.
Dozens of plastic cases and little boxes, all set into dense foam. She'd been with Bonnie long enough to recognize what these must be—rifles, handguns, shotguns, various kinds of specialty ammo...
She smacked the trunk closed, and piled everything onto the backseat instead. She had this ready. Does she have a safehouse too? Maybe that's where I'm already living.
“I want to know how to do that,” Lyra finally said, once the door was shut and the engine croaked to life. “Not—don't. Don't even start or you're getting dry food for a week.”
He hopped up into the passenger seat, settling onto his haunches there. For a cat, he clearly understood humans quite well. Better than he should. “Bold of you to assume I cannot hunt my own. I could fell an ox if I wished. More with your magic.”
She shrugged. “You know what I mean. You said you could teach me magic—that's what I want to learn. Changing shapes. I've always...” She looked away from him, pulling back out onto the road. “I've always been curious about what other shapes would be like. Being stuck as one thing... my old master could change, but his was horrible. Like he was ripping himself apart... I got sick every time I saw him do it.”
Capper didn't laugh. “Thyrsus. Of course. In the old days, we understood these things. Some patterns were already written into the human soul. No one knew why. But I am not surprised. It will take time... practice, patience, discipline. You must abandon every lie confining you to one shape in order to be free of it. We can start with something simple. A tail, perhaps. You're clumsy enough to need one.”
She drove along in silence for a little while, considering. The cat wasn't the only one who promised to teach her—the Consilium would do the same. In fact, they would require her to study. She had to learn things... things she didn't remember now, though were all probably important.
“What am I going to tell Bonnie? When I... go off to spend time with the... Free Council? She's an investigator. She's going to know if I lie.”
“Don't, I guess,” the cat said. “Ensure that what you tell her is true. Give her no reason to investigate. You know how she thinks—if anyone could do this, it's you.”
She turned that over in her mind during the rest of the drive. Stop her girlfriend from investigating—there was only one way to do that. She would need to give up working at Octavia's, or at least go part time.
She drove through their favorite noodle shop, and bought more than twice as much food as they really needed. She could probably eat all of it herself—she craved it.
I could keep the music lessons. Sales are slowing down now that summer's over. Octavia doesn't need me every day.
“I don't want to give up my old life, Capper. I liked my life. Liked my work, what I did.”
Her familiar laughed at her. She should really be used to his mockery. “The Lie is comfortable. It wraps familiar arms around you, it squeezes tight. Its words are all lies. To wake from the Lie means abandoning the pantomime it urged in you. Obedience, complacency, compliance. Always cowering to them, head low before the imposter gods. To live is to grow, Lyra. To grow is to improve. Sometimes growing can hurt. But when you finally tear away the last threads of Abyssal corruption and walk your own road into that sacred grove, you will arrive without regrets.”
She wasn't sure what any of that meant—but like so many other things Capper said, there was truth to every word. He could be cruel, he could be uncaring, he could be callous—but he was honest.
“I didn't thank you yet. For helping me save... save her. I couldn't have done it without you.”
He stretched on the seat, pointedly avoiding her eyes. He might speak with wisdom, but he still moved like a cat. “I require no gratitude. If you live long enough, you will know how you can help me. Until then, grow. I am no gardener. Trust me—everything I try to grow dies. But you can learn, and I can help keep the weeds away. I will walk beside you when you first taste the void. I won't let it take you.”
She pulled into their parking spot, then walked around to empty the cat supplies from inside. By the time she pulled the door open, the cat was gone, and one tin of food was missing from the pack.
Lyra found her girlfriend in the study when she finally got everything inside. Granted, she'd never seen the study looking quite like this.
Every surface was transformed—paintings, computers, desks, all flipped over, revealing a menacing suite of heavy weapons, ammo, and various tools. A single gun rested in a harness on the desk.
Lyra's borrowed gun, with its tank still missing. “Brought the pho,” she said, holding up the plastic bag. “Still warm, I think.”
Bonnie tapped her screwdriver against the side of the gun. “Harper, what happened? My gun—you shot a wizard with it. This tank wouldn't be empty if you shot a vampire.”
A lie came to her mind, something about an accident, maybe banging it against the wall, or something similarly absurd. But then came Akiko's words, when she thought she might die from saying them. She spoke them anyway. Every lie deepens the shadow.
“I guess I did. Didn't really think about it much at the time. Was just trying to stay alive. Or make sure you did, when I got back. How are you feeling?”
“I’ll be better when I know the details. You can tell me over lunch.”
A few minutes later and they had lunch before them, a smattering of mostly-still-warm pho and a few plastic bottles of their favorite lotus tea.
“I think you know more about them than most people,” Lyra said, as soon as they were eating. “Being near them kinda... fries your brain. Makes it hard to think.”
More lies—but less of a lie than what she’d been contemplating before. At least she knew a little of that feeling.
“I need to know where.” Bonnie rested her disposable chopsticks on a napkin, well away from the device. “There’s a GPS beacon in the gun, saves coordinates of where it was fired. But the buffer got wiped. I had to flash the control circuits to get it to turn on.”
“She was throwing lightning around,” Lyra said, almost casually. “Not sure how close it got to me. But I think the gun worked. She flipped the hell out, maybe teleported away? Not sure.”
Bonnie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not taking this seriously. Throwing lightning? Teleporting? They have weird powers, but they can’t break the laws of physics. They were probably messing with your head.”
The sleeping soul recoils from the touch of magic. Everyone told her as much—unfortunate to see just how right they were. You were supposed to believe me.
Lyra shrugged. “I’m telling you what I saw. Or—I saw the lightning. I don’t know how she escaped. One minute she was there, the next she was gone. Maybe it was an illusion or something. I’m not an expert in fighting mages.”
“Wizards,” Bonnie corrected, almost instantly. “Or witches. Where’d you hear that word?”
She shrugged, digging into her food. She ate in silence for a few minutes, giving her time to think. Finally, she spoke again. “Do you think they’re all evil? I mean... they’re not vampires. They don’t need to feed on people. They’re still humans, like you said.”
Bonnie removed a tiny tank from under the table, securing it in the gun. “I’ve never seen a vampire kill like this. I think I’ll have... nightmares about it.” She slid the gun back across the table towards Lyra. “Next time you use this, try to avoid the line of fire. If we knew where they were hiding...”
Lyra nodded. She took the gun, hefting it in one hand. She half-expected it to explode, or else start lighting up with alarms. But nothing happened. I’m still human.
“What happens now? Did you reconnect with your... organization?”
Her girlfriend nodded weakly. “They’re calling in specialists. With one of our... partner organizations. I’m not supposed to talk about it, obviously.”
Lyra nodded. “And you didn’t. But while you were talking to a witness who survived an encounter with them...”
“It doesn’t matter if you know. They don’t... exist, officially. None of this does. The Order of St. Ambrose. They’re who the Malleus Maleficarum sends in when a few hunters and prayers just aren’t good enough. Witch finders.”
Lyra ate the remainder of her meal in relative silence, staring down at the gun. Its barrel glowed faintly blue in her fingers until she flicked the safety, and it retracted into inert silence.
What would happen to her if Bonnie fired at her? More importantly—what would her girlfriend do when she discovered one of the “witches” she was hunting shared her bedroom?
There has to be a way to let her see. Now just isn’t the right time, that’s all. She just needs to understand that there’s good ones and bad ones, same as with regular people. We’re not like vampires.
Lyra wasn’t like a vampire. She’d stake herself first.
“Slowly, Lyra. The last place you want to invite paradox is with your own pattern. Take as much time as you need.”
Her familiar spoke so gently now that his words were not even vocalized. She heard them just the same, through the gradually-strengthening mental link the two of them had built over the last few weeks. Strong enough to hear everything he wanted to say, but also weak enough to dislodge him when he got too nosy or annoying.
Lyra rested in meditative repose in the center of the Free Council's Hallow. The sacred space was hidden inside what she had always thought was a nondescript maintenance building at Canterlot Community College. As it turned out, the structure had been built around the Hallow.
The space was itself contained within a glass shell, entirely open to the sky. The floor was strange grass planted in a ring, so pale green it was almost white. And there at the center, an ancient wooden book-stand, with a leatherbound book open to a seemingly random page. The book and its stand were themselves enclosed in a dome of solid force, protecting the mana that flowed freely from Supernal heights down to this place.
Taking from that well required greater rank in the organization than Lyra had earned—but she was still welcome to visit and study, practice, and meditate.
Or in this case, learn a new spell so potentially dangerous that it might very well invoke the fathomless Abyss and unleash havoc into her own body.
There were wise ways to study dangerous magic, and ways that were not so wise. Thankfully for Lyra, she had friends who could guide her to the path of wisdom.
That path represented a tome of soft tan leather as big as a paving slab, written entirely in an indecipherable script.
Or rather, everyone told her it should be. But when she read, Lyra found the words came to her as naturally as when Capper spoke them. If anything, she found the language of it awkward and clumsy, as though someone had tried to write a textbook on theoretical physics after a year of ESL.
“You are almost ready. Take your tool one last time, and speak the words. When you release the spell, prepare to contain it within yourself.”
She knew what that meant, kind of. Some magic was safe, the changes it invoked subtle enough that she could slip them into the world with little risk. Others, though—defied the fallen order of the world so deeply that the Abyss latched onto her magic.
Lyra knew the least about this awful corruption, except that it was the same endless black abyss that separated her vision from the Supernal forest. The same place where she spoke to a dragon formed of many parts, who told her to rip out her own heart.
Lyra lifted something from the empty ground in front of her. It was formed of obsidian, a curved irregular blade she had made herself. The leather for its handle was crude and uneven, frayed in places and with gaps in others.
She had made every part of it, dedicated it with drops of her own blood. Capper called the writing on its blade crude, but still “leagues better than what some of my apprentices are capable of.” In the language called Atlantean, she had written the only thing that made sense. “To Live is to Grow.” Somehow, that phrase could be represented as a pair of two complex, overlapping glyphs.
Importantly, using it grounded her magic, staving off the awful touch of the Abyss.
“What do I say? The words in the book?”
Her familiar stalked along the oversized book, squinting down at its pages with visible disdain. “Not these. Mastering this rote is critical to reliable shape change without paradox—but not a rote written by a child with a speech impediment. The mudras are right, but not the words. Follow the gestures, and speak with me.”
Mudras—a series of complex movements, mostly with her hands. Each one invoked the different aspects of her magic, though she still didn't fully understand how. They guided the spell into shape, ensuring she could cast it the same way every time. When cast successfully, anyway.
Thankfully, there were no other students using the Hallow today, so no one to mock her pronunciation. So far, that was the only downside she'd found to working with her strange familiar. The cat had his own specific ways he thought things should be done, and that rarely aligned with the way other mages did things.
Trouble was, Capper's way worked better.The words made so much more sense when she copied his pronunciation, instead of theirs.
She did so now. “Once two wandered among the ancient pines. The swift spoke to the wise. 'Do you wish for all the forest to hear your passage? Walk beside me, not above. See as I see, and know what I know.' The wise knew what this would cost, that to know the beasts would be to relinquish a little of what was human. He did, and his eyes were opened.”
As usual, Capper's suggestions had nothing in common with the way other mages cast their spells. If she ever tried to just say nearby words in Atlantean, he would bite her ankles until she stopped. But of all the spells he'd given her so far, this one had particular meaning. Was he speaking from personal experience?
The last word left her lips, and all at once the spell was released. All her preparation and memorization, her painstaking calculations in choosing its variables and scope—struck her all at once.
There was no room left for doubt anymore—no place left in Lyra's life for believing magic was impossible and that her spells wouldn’t work. She would not be bound by the Lie anymore.
Such a powerful spell would normally demand some of her precious mana to fuel it, just enough to ease the passage of Supernal laws on the material world. But this was why she had come to the Hallow in the first place—mana flowed freely here, including into her spells.
It worked. The air rushed past her, as though she'd just tumbled painlessly down a flight of stairs. But she wasn't falling, unless she could somehow fall into herself.
She squealed in confusion and surprise as her knife tumbled from her grip, landing atop her borrowed spellbook. Seconds later, she was entirely swallowed in a prison of overlapping fabric.
“Capper, help! I'm... I think something caught me!”
She struggled and fought, but not even her body made sense anymore. Her fingers wouldn't close right, but still caught on the cloth underneath her, making her stretch further and further. She smacked sideways against cloth, which quickly entangled her.
In seconds, she'd gone from serene discipline to a tangled ball, swallowed by a vast prison on all sides. Lyra screamed, but her voice no longer sounded even remotely human anymore. Now it was a desperate mewling, yowling, and gasping.
She might've spent the next several minutes thrashing around like that, trapped in a prison she couldn't see but could certainly smell. Fortunately for her, she wasn't alone.
“I'll admit, I've seen more grace from a first attempt. I did warn you about the clothing—without mastery of matter, it was bound to entangle you. It is usually better to remove before you change.”
Capper's familiar voice cut through the fear and confusion, at least enough that rational thoughts prevailed. She might be confused, she might be uncomfortable and afraid—but this wasn't unexpected. Lyra wanted to transform. She'd done this to herself.
She stopped struggling instantly, relaxing onto her back. As she did, her hands stopped adhering to every surface. She was still confined to a small, dark space, she was still confused and her body still didn't quite make sense. But it was a start.
A second later, light appeared in her world, an opening in what she thought was a wall. There was Capper standing over her at impossible size. His scent was similarly overwhelming—but not in the way she was used to. Lyra had met a few crazy cat ladies in her life, with homes smelling of ammonia and depression.
This was something entirely different. Capper smelled like adventure, confidence, and blood. He smelled powerful, friendly, but not exactly safe. “Well look at you. Calico, isn't that cute. You're not going to blend into the dark very well with all that white fur.”
Somehow just seeing him move was enough to reorient herself. Her legs stretched out too long, but with all four of them under her, she could stand up.
Not like walking on her hands and knees—this was natural, not awkward and clumsy. Her legs knew what they were supposed to do, even if she didn't.
She stumbled out through the opening, shaking her paws free of whatever had been holding them. Then she was out in the open, with the freedom to stretch. Her eyes narrowed in the true sunlight streaming down from the open ceiling.
“Mirror over there. Every mage wants to see one when they change. Suppose they forget the transformation they were intending in the time it takes to occur. If it helps, you are a cat.”
She already knew that. But Capper was right—she wanted to see. Fortunately, the Hallow had mirrors spaced regularly along its length, arranged to create an illusion of perpetually reflecting eternity with only the strange book in focus.
But if she pawed her way over to one, Lyra could still get a clear view.
She would've described that view as a thin, lanky calico. Her body was mostly white, though broken at random with splotches of yellow, black, and orange. She touched one paw up against the glass, and found it every bit as strange as she expected. “It worked.”
“I told you I would teach you.” Her familiar settled onto his haunches beside her, looking particularly smug. “You shouldn't be so surprised. With greater mastery, you should be able to alter the individual traits of the animal form you take. The easiest transformation is this one—a translation of your human self into the animal. Your age projected onto their lifespan, your physical traits roughly scaled against a member of the new species. This is satisfactory when any form will do—less useful when you are attempting to remain hidden.”
She turned away from the mirror, then stalked towards Capper instead. She slid past him as any cat might, brushing against him so a little of her scent would mix with his. “Everything is so... clear.”
He answered with laughter. That sound was at once so strange for a cat and so familiar to Lyra that it cut through her thoughts. “You see the greatest danger here. It is not body alone that is transfigured, but mind. You must be a cat to control that tail, those claws, to breathe through those lungs. When the body is reminded of what the animal might do—you may find it difficult to resist. Fortunately, I have more practice.”
Lyra's head swirled with the possibilities. She could be something else—she was something else! How many other things could one person be? What lessons could she learn from each one?
“I can't wait to show—” She stopped abruptly. Her girlfriend couldn't see this, just like she couldn't see anything of her new life. If she had been watching, the spell would probably not have worked. Even if it did, she would be breaking mage rules by trying. “Right.” Her tail fell limp, ears drooping to either side.
“Don't look so glum. Your partner spends so much of her life hunting your kind that her perspective is changing quickly. Pity—the quintessence in her soul is one of the few effective protections she wields. Once it fades, even vulgar attacks will strike with force.”
Lyra's attention snapped back to him again, without any of the confusion that animal instincts had inspired. “Wait. That can happen?”
“Obviously. The quintessence finds a home in every human soul. To Awaken, you must cast it off. If none could, there would be no Awakened. Yet here you sit, asking silly questions while failing to notice what should be obvious to you.”
“What should be—”
The glass door hissed, and heavy footfalls shook the ground. Lyra squealed in surprise, darting behind the nearest object of any size—her spellbook, which was now tall enough to hide behind completely, if she kept her head down. But not so far that she couldn't peer up at whoever had come to interrupt her conversation.
Another familiar scent, albeit harsh and artificial. Peaches, mixed with the ozone she got from exposure to Akiko's overwhelming energy.
Reagan Hayes was almost unrecognizable from a few inches off the ground. Humans were so tall that focusing on her face took effort. When she spoke, she might as well be shouting.
“You... actually did it. Less than a month, and you've gone from whiskers and a tail to true transformation. Could work on your timing.”
Lyra emerged from behind the book, taking small, cautious steps. Her body remained tense, tail stretched out behind her. That should feel stranger—but becoming something else somehow meant its various parts all felt natural and familiar. So long as she didn't dwell too long on how that pile of cloth on the ground was what she should be wearing...
“Didn't I have until night? The schedule said no one was coming in until sunset.”
Her friend dropped to one knee, extending a hand towards her. “Aww. That's adorable. Guess you still think you can talk, huh?”
“But I—” She glanced sideways at Capper, who only tilted his head to one side. Right. She spent so much time talking to cats that she sometimes forgot others couldn't. “Can I still do magic?”
“Magic? Yes. Rotes? Not usually. The mudras were written for hands, which you lack.”
Something huge snatched her body, suddenly enough that Lyra yowled in shock. She flailed wildly with four claws, slashing at whatever she could reach. Until she couldn't. Her body went abruptly limp, legs falling slack under her. Was she under attack?
“Watch it with those claws, Lyra. Those are sharp!” She looked up, the only motion she could manage under such cramped conditions. Reagan had scooped her into her arms. A few fingers now had little red lines from her claws, deep enough to draw blood. Something tugged on her neck, not hard enough to pull her, yet somehow her limbs refused to respond. “One second. Let me just... there. Say something now.”
She didn't really want to. The same feeling that stopped her limbs from working also kept her mind from forming coherent thoughts. She was completely content, even though she was now fifty feet in the air with only someone's arm to hold her. “Why did... you…?”
“Oh good. It's working. Listen—Akiko just made a breakthrough. We need you at the Sanctum, like—yesterday. How much longer is this transformation gonna last?”
The longer she was up here, the more she could ignore the strange pressure on the back of her neck, and the numbness that came with it. “I... think... a while. Capper, how long?”
“Sunrise,” he answered, sounding almost bored. “I planned to introduce you to Canterlot from a different perspective. Show you what the mages on two legs never notice. I suppose we'll need to find another time.”
Reagan didn't follow her gaze—but her friend probably hadn't used the same kind of magic that Lyra might to understand her. She couldn't understand animals generally—she might even be listening to her thoughts!
“Sunrise,” she said. “Do you want me to... end it early? You'll have to put me down first.”
Reagan answered by holding her out in both hands, all the way at head level. That left her legs dangling weakly underneath, her body stretching further and further to find stable footing. “And deprive the girls of this? No way. You just... stay near my boots. Your familiar can come too. Just so long as he doesn't try anything. Little cutie like you...”
“Little is the operative word. We're not in the same order of magnitude.” Capper approached Reagan anyway, looking up with a rich helping of his feline disdain. But considering what Reagan had just implied, she deserved it.
At least she set Lyra back down. Once she had her paws safely under herself, the world made sense again. “If this is that important, shouldn't I be... human?” she asked. “I can end the spell, really. It isn't that hard.”
“When we get back. Easier to find a private place to change in the Sanctum, anyway. I know it doesn't bother you now, but you probably wouldn't want to be human this exact second. Not with half a dozen different clerks and sleepwalkers right outside this room.”
Right. Her tail tucked between her legs, and her ears folded flat again. She didn't know exactly what Reagan meant—but it was still there, somewhere. Probably better if she didn't probe it too closely. “Okay. Don't forget my knife. And my clothes, and... my purse? You can close up the spellbook and just put it on a shelf wherever. I won't be studying it anymore tonight.”
Reagan obeyed, or at least Lyra was pretty sure she did. Watching her move around all those things quickly got boring, so she was distracted with other things by the time her friend was ready to move them. A leather boot nudged her to one side, pushing gently enough that she didn't resist. “If we weren't on the clock, I'm sure you'd catch that butterfly eventually. Maybe next time, Heartstrings.”
Time got a little confusing when you weren't something with a clear conception of time. Lyra was somewhere else—somewhere with lots of interesting new smells and places to explore. She wandered around for a while. A few times people came her way. They were familiar enough that she didn't want to run, but rarely novel enough that she stayed near them for very long.
Long enough for them to talk about some things, or others. But none of them were as interesting as all the exciting corners of her new place. Until she had poked her head into every opening, corner, and hiding place, and someone appeared in front of her.
One of the other new girls, the one she knew the least. But “Starlight” was luckier than anyone she'd ever met—it wasn't too surprising that she would find her.
“Hey, Heartstrings.” She dropped into a sitting position opposite the exit, blocking any potential escape. Lyra wasn't sure exactly where she was—a square shelf filled with various magical oddities, all of which smelled strange enough to attract her attention.
She'd escaped from the other girls more than once already—but she probably wouldn't do quite so well against someone so lucky.
So she settled onto her haunches, glaring out at her friend.
“I've seen this kind of thing before. I have a friend—he can change too. This sometimes happens to him. It's almost guaranteed your first time.”
Most of those words had meaning. Whether or not she cared to listen was something else...
“Makes me wonder if that familiar of yours did it on purpose. Convincing you to make this so long... you could've gotten into all kinds of trouble if you got outside.”
She pawed her way towards Starlight, tense enough that she could flee if she had to. Starlight wouldn't be able to reach far enough fast enough.
“Rarity was going to bring her familiar too. But she's not as well-behaved as yours. Probably for the best if you learn the secret language of beasts another time. Maybe when there's less of a time-crunch.” She set something down in the space just outside the box—an overlapping layer of cloth, covered in the strange patterns of mage writing.
“He says it gets easier—the more times you're exposed, I mean. It's not my area, so I have to believe him. You could also try something larger next time—not a lot of space in a cat brain.”
Not a lot of space—was she calling Lyra dumb? Granted, she didn't precisely know how the magic worked, but she had some idea it was more complex than that. If she was entirely stuck in the brain of whatever form she used, then no mage could ever change into something small or stupid and still hope to get anything done.
She couldn't argue the point with Starlight, though—she didn't have the magic to understand her. She would have to change back for that. Which... wouldn't be that hard. She didn't have to cast a new spell, just end the one she was already using.
“I wouldn't interrupt you—honestly, it seems fascinating. But Twilight is getting so nervous she's started vibrating in her chair. Could you join us, please?”
When she asked the question so politely, how could Lyra refuse? Besides—Capper wasn't playing with her anymore. He'd said something when he left—but now he was gone. It would be more fun to explore with friends. Too bad she didn't know the magic well enough to use it on someone else yet. That might be interesting...
Changing back would be interesting too. She pawed forward, closer to the exit. However confused and bewildered, she still had a pretty good idea how bad it would be to get bigger in a space that didn't have any room for her.
“Please don't run away,” Starlight added. “I can even introduce you to someone who knows all about changing into things. Or—deer. Specifically deer. But I won't do it if you make us chase you.” She backed away from the opening, resting one hand on her hip. “No meeting my friends if you can't behave.”
Lyra could behave! All she had to do was remember how the spell worked...
It took considerable effort to find, and more concentration to stop. But if she reached deep enough, past where any eyes could see, there were the threads of a spell wrapped around her soul. She wasn't really a cat, she'd just tricked her pattern into resembling one for a little while. Apparently it was time to go back to the way it used to be.
The spell remained strong, though she couldn't say how long it had kept going. Hours? Maybe less—it was hard to tell at her size. But it felt strong—strong enough to go for hours more. Unless she broke the loop.
Lyra's world spasmed and convulsed, then shrank. Rather, she expanded, so fast that she knocked Starlight backward in the rush of acceleration. It wasn't just her size that came back either—suddenly she felt bare skin pressed to the wood floor. And by extension, everything she wasn't wearing.
“Welcome back, shapeshifter.” Starlight sat up, covering her mouth with one hand. “Brought you something to wear. Unless you'd rather try catnip.”
She did not in fact try catnip. Instead she dressed as quickly as she could, tossing the light robe on over her bare shoulders. Whoever designed it had obviously not intended it to be worn on bare skin—but at least she had something to wear.
She ran one hand through her hair, brushing it back into something approximating order. “That was way more intense than I thought it would be.”
Starlight waited nearby, mostly on her phone. At least until that moment, when she tucked it away abruptly. “Did you think being an animal would be easy? I get that you have more natural talent than we do, but come on. If this stuff was easy, more humans would be waking up.”
She waved into the room nearby. “We're all impressed with your magic, Heartstrings. But we'll have to congratulate you later: we're on the clock.”
Lyra tightened the strap, shifting her bare feet on the chill floor. She could probably get a few minutes to change back into her proper outfit—but considering the chaos she'd just caused, maybe she deserved to be uncomfortable.
She rejoined her new friends in the magical workroom, the same place that she'd accidentally saved Akiko's life. There were no signs of that old attack visible anymore, not even melted patches on the wall.
Despite wielding the strange powers of nature, her cabal worked on folding tables covered with butcher paper, leaving them free to scribble over with whatever interesting notes or theories they had.
Lyra's face turned bright red as she saw the full extent of the workspace. Somehow she didn't imagine that a third of the space had been dedicated to polaroid photos of a little cat playing in various parts of the Sanctum, or the other girls posing with it.
“I thought we weren't supposed to capture physical evidence of vulgar magic,” she said, tapping the largest of them with her fingers. Even Akiko had posed for that one—that technically meant the whole cabal. Accepting that one of its members wasn't quite herself at the time. “Something about... risks if they're discovered. The Guardians of the Veil or... something.”
Tabitha nodded sadly. “Tragically, these images preserve evidence of the Sanctum that could be used against us in an attack. They shall need to be destroyed. Except that one.” She nodded towards the one Lyra was already touching. “Just friends sharing their appreciation for your accomplishment.”
“But now that we're done having fun...” Akiko said, before she could continue. “I did call everyone for a reason. We won't have another opportunity like this for another year. Reagan, put away the cat pictures. I don't want to see any of them online.”
Some of them were pretty cute. Lyra wouldn't mind, except that she still remembered posing for some of them. Or—posing might not be quite right. Part of her understood that her friends were giving her attention, and she enjoyed that part.
The other girls each took their seats. Except for Reagan, who spent the next few seconds gathering up cat pictures. She didn't toss them into the nearby fireplace, but into a pocket when she thought no one was looking.
“Now... I'm sure you all remember this. The artifact I've been studying for the last few years.” Akiko settled it onto the table at its direct center, into a gap in the diagram apparently made for it.
“The artifact we almost lost to the Seers of the Throne,” Starlight said. “But that Heartstrings was there to stop them from running off with. This is the same one?”
“Same one,” Akiko said. “I've called this meeting because I know what it does. We have a chance—a single limited opportunity—to take advantage. Otherwise, we'll have to hold it for another year. I think we all know our odds against whatever attack comes for us next.”
Tabitha nodded her agreement. “It's rather unwise of us to continue using the Sanctum as long as we have. The Seers do not typically abandon their targets once selected.”
Starlight squinted down at the diagram, and the strange object at its center. “Wait... are you saying we're only going to need it once? Don't most artifacts have permanent effects?”
“Correct.” Akiko bent down, removing a tight bundle of paper from under the desk and spreading it out. There was an opening at the center, exactly the right size for their little artifact. All around it were great gears, wires, and pistons—an incredible machine, as elaborate as anything an 18th century inventor might've imagined in their wildest opium-fueled madness. “But this one is a key. Once we open the door, we won't need to hold it.”
“I thought it was a battery.” Even Reagan had finally set her phone down, attention focused on the diagram Akiko had provided. “Last time we talked, you said it had a reservoir of energy that ran deeper than anything modern mages could build. A well that could hold enough mana to drown someone.”
Lyra shifted nervously in her seat. She wasn't just a little uncomfortable in the robe—she hadn't seen her familiar since returning to her human shape. Clothing she could do without, but where was Capper?
“Yes, it does have that. The diagram here… you can see. Incredible energy. But I was wrong to think it held mana. This takes electricity. More precisely, I believe this device is meant to store lightning.” She lifted the clockwork device into the air, turning it sideways so its little glass reservoirs were visible. “Once filled, this artifact would serve as more than a key—it would also power the ruin, infusing it with the energy to operate.”
“What ruin?” Lyra asked. “Sorry, I'm sure this is supposed to be obvious. I just—don't remember talking about any ruins before.”
“I don't... precisely... know...” Akiko admitted, settling the artifact back down between them. “Reagan, did you find anything?”
She shook her head once. “Only that this thing has sympathy to somewhere close—maybe a hundred miles or less? My guess is it will be much easier to follow once it's charged. Later on it will want to be used. It's not ready yet, so it's resisting me.”
“To answer the question I believe you're asking—” Tabitha continued, resting one sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Atlantean ruins. Many were built as colonies when the ancient city still stood—more after the Fall, when survivors fled all over the world carrying what was left of their secret knowledge and relics of power. If we could find our way in, it's almost impossible to express the value of what we might uncover.”
“Oh.” Lyra nodded, keeping her head down. Atlantis was the name of the ancient culture of mages, from the world before humanity was all cursed. Depending on who was telling Lyra about it, Atlantis was either a very real ancient empire, reaching the uttermost heights of technology and magic—or it was a mythical ideal, and never literally real.
Many members of her new organization, the “Free Council” saw Atlantis this way—an ideal to be admired, but as real as the square root of negative one. The city had never literally existed—but its presence still guided much of Awakened life.
Not her new Cabal, apparently.
“What I'm not understanding is why this was so urgent.”Starlight stood up, pacing in a slow circle around the table. “Obviously owning that key makes us a target. But if it goes to an Atlantean ruin, whatever's inside will keep for as long as it takes. Either that, or it rotted away a long time ago. We can take a few months to figure out how it works if we have to.”
“I already know how it works.”
Akiko removed something else from under the table—a codex of overlapping paper, tied with leather straps along the spine. She flicked through it about halfway, until she stopped on one page among many. There, a faint sketch of the artifact occupied the top of the page, along with a meandering scrawl in Atlantean. “We need lightning—real lightning, nothing summoned by magic. All we can do is guide the power into the artifact. The storm has to be natural, or it won't work.”
“Like the big one we're getting tomorrow night?” Starlight said. “Biggest thunderstorm in a decade. Last big storm of the season too, unless other powers intervene.”
“Correct.” Akiko settled heavily into her seat, taking the key up against her chest. “We have an opportunity to charge the artifact. If we can't take advantage of it now, we could be waiting years before we have another chance. Can everyone be available tomorrow evening?”
One by one the girls nodded. Everyone had their own concerns—plans they might need to reschedule, or preparations they wanted to make. But ultimately they all made time for it. So when it came to Lyra's turn, she had no choice but to accept.
“Bonnie and I were going to—I can probably get a refund. Unless you don't think you need me.”
Her friends shared a look, before Reagan broke into nervous laughter. “We're talking about lightning, and we're planning to make it hit. Trying this without a healer seems... dumb.”
Just one look at her friends told Lyra how likely they were to wait this out, even if she couldn't come. And if she wasn't around to help when something terrible happened...
“If money is the question, I could see such concerns... overcome,” Tabitha said. “I know you've been reluctant to accept my help thus far, but perhaps you could reconsider for such an important cause? I'll make up the difference in whatever you've spent.”
If it was just the money. But given the intensity of Lyra's new life, she had missed more than her fair share of time with her girlfriend. Not all of it was her fault—Bonnie had to cancel things too, as her current investigation with VALKYRIE demanded more and more of her time.
But between one night at the opera and a risk that her friends could get themselves killed—the decision was obvious. “Something to make it up to Bonnie... fine. I won't turn you down this time. And I'll be there. What time?”
The rest was just working out specifics. Lyra had little place in the plan for the spell itself, beyond needing to be close by and topped up in case someone got struck.
Tabitha nudged her shoulder. “If you're feeling up to it, you might try that transformation again. A cat could make for a great lookout.”
“Refuse,” demanded a little voice. She turned to the side, eyeing the little cat from around the bench. The others turned to look too, though they couldn't understand him. But in a group of other mages, they knew he did more than make cute, harmless animal sounds. “You are not ready, as we saw. A single sniff of catnip and your discipline and focus are shattered.”
He hopped onto her seat, nestling up against her lap. Capper spoke with the same confidence and poise as ever, even when reclining in an animalistic way. He cared as little as any real cat for what she thought. “Besides, transformation constricts the pattern. It is not wise to take a tiny form when surrounded by danger. A blow that would kill any other cat will fell you just as easily in their skin. And if that doesn't discourage you—it will be pouring rain. You'll hate it.”
Nothing forced Lyra to listen to Capper's advice. But the cat sounded genuinely disappointed in her. Almost nothing made him sound like that. So she would pay attention.
“He sure had a lot to say,” Akiko muttered. “More than most familiars do. Fascinating.”
“I don't think I'm ready to field test that new magic quite yet,” Lyra said, before they could turn the subject towards Capper. None of the others quite understood why she accepted a familiar so quickly. The more they investigated, the more trouble they gave her. “But I can hide pretty good. Better with magic, if I need to be hidden.”
“Practically invisible,” Reagan said. “Remember—the Seers work for the ones who won. They know things about Atlantis that we don't. They might realize what that key opens. Maybe that's why Tempest didn't try to take the key a second time. She's going to let us do the hard work, then take it already charged.”
They spent the next hour or so planning things out. Akiko's organization was meticulous, much more than Lyra's patience. But given the choice, she was usually better off with an overprepared friend than someone who leapt in without thinking.
Her own part was simple—where to hide, what to watch for, and how she would help if anyone got hurt. The pressure wasn't on her, she was just a contingency.
Lyra stepped off the bus a few blocks from her apartment. The shelter of sunlight was long gone, along with the armor it might've offered against the Kindred. Their dark influence might be gathering in any shadow.
Not long ago, Lyra would've insisted on waiting for a direct ride home, rather than venture unprotected after dark. Even Bonnie's strange weapon couldn't make her feel safe enough. But since Awakening, she saw the world differently. No common vampire would ever sneak up on her again. If anyone moved in the dark without a heartbeat, the living world would tell her.
She saw none that day. Just long shadows and dark clouds, heralding the storm to come. Lucky for her familiar, there was no rain yet, though the pavement was already damp in places.
Ponyville was not some remote, impoverished little corner of the world—it had wide sidewalks, bright streetlights, and an affordable bus system. Even without magic, Lyra would have no trouble navigating her way home.
That said, there was very little activity on the streets after sundown. Only a handful of restaurants and shops remained open long after dark, and none of those were close to her home. That meant she had the sidewalks mostly to herself, while families behind glowing windows prepared for their evening meal.
Bonnie had probably ordered a pizza or something. Her girlfriend was an excellent chef, but rarely had the time to express that talent. She was too busy saving the world.
“I trust you were learning today, student,” Capper said, pawing along ahead of her. “Many lessons. I trust you will approach transformation with the appropriate level of care. We may need to find another place to practice next time, where we won't be interrupted. We had scarcely begun your lesson.”
Lyra rolled her eyes. The more other mages and their familiars she met, the stranger Capper seemed by contrast. Even those who looked like animals were actually ancient spirits, and many had served more than one mage. But none she'd ever seen talked to their partner like they were an apprentice.
It was fine with her, so long as he kept teaching. Without Capper, she wouldn't be learning half as fast. “Do you think Starlight was right? I should try something with a bigger brain next time? Maybe a deer, like she said. They seem like they have fun. Running... eating grass... and they're graceful like you are.”
Capper laughed with his usual bitterness. “That would be easier, Lyra. It would also be easier for the aspiring athlete to replace their weights with foam. Yet would their body benefit? What is the purpose of a challenge if it does not allow you to grow? That magic is within your reach, yet it would not provide an adequate obstacle for your talents.”
She slowed as they approached the last crosswalk. Her own door wouldn't be much beyond it. Bonnie had some of the sharpest senses she'd ever known—the last thing Lyra needed was having her girlfriend overhear her talking to a cat. For better or worse, she was only speaking English. That meant whatever she said could be easily understood, if anyone was listening.
“You're saying I'm talented.”
He spun, batting at her ankles as she passed him. “Obviously. I can't cast the spells for you, Willworker. The triumphs are yours. Do not grow complacent in your victories—the understanding you have yet reached is feeble and shallow. To achieve mastery, much more is required. Study faithfully, be obedient, and you may survive long enough. I hope so. I don't want to watch another one die.”
The walk sign illuminated then in a flash of white, but Capper didn't follow. That wasn't entirely unexpected—Bonnie still didn't know the extent of their relationship. If she ever discovered Lyra was taking the cat with her, she might eventually grow suspicious. She was hunting witches after all—and Capper was the perfect stereotype of a black cat.
She found the windows of her own duplex all dark as she approached. Strange—her girlfriend's new car was in the spot. Not even feeble cracks of light emerged from inside.
Lyra hesitated on the threshold, forcing both arms to her sides. She resisted the urge to whisper more of Capper's powerful words to her spell. But that wasn't always the best idea, particularly when she was trying to keep hidden. She'd already found her girlfriend hurt in there once before.
Even without the words, it only took a moment's focus to tell her what she needed to know. Many things lived in these buildings, great and small. Importantly there was only one inside her apartment. Bonnie wasn't bleeding to death, or even lightly injured. Instead, she radiated nervous energy, moving rapidly back and forth through the apartment.
Good. Lyra took her keys, then unlocked the door. It swung only an inch or so, then caught on one of several redundant locks. Bonnie never locked those when she wasn't around!
“One sec!” a voice called from the other side. Her girlfriend darted to the door, then pulled it properly closed. Locks clicked, chains rattled, and mechanisms shifted. Only then did it finally swing open.
Despite the darkened windows, every single light blazed inside, filling the space with uncomfortably harsh white. Lyra lifted one arm to shield her eyes—only for her girlfriend to catch her by the wrist and yank her inside.
No sooner was she through the door than Bonnie slammed it closed behind her, locking each security mechanism as fast as her considerable dexterity would allow. “You're late. You didn't text.”
Lyra nodded apologetically. “Time got away from me. I thought I would make the earlier bus.” She looked around, eyes slowly adjusting to the harsh conditions.
Every window was dark because they'd been entirely covered, with a strange steel barrier over the inside. They resembled the security doors on some shops, jointed steel that swung down in a roll and locked on the bottom. Every window had one, along with little piles of sawdust and heavy cardboard boxes that they had probably shipped inside.
“Woah. You did all this after I left for work?”
She didn't really have to ask. Bonnie wore dirty overalls soaked and smeared with sweat. Grease and other things covered her skin wherever it was exposed. Despite her strength, there was a sluggishness to Bonnie's movements that was usually absent.
“Yes. I wish I had better news, Harper. There's... been a development. Nothing good.”
She followed them into the kitchen. Sure enough, a stack of pizza boxes sat on the table, already soaked through with grease and probably cooled until they were lukewarm. Bonnie nodded towards them, almost practically. “Hungry? You should eat.”
Lyra flipped open one of the boxes—chicken alfredo pizza, her favorite. Besides, it was still warm and tasty enough to enjoy. If she had something stuffed in her mouth, then Bonnie couldn't expect her to answer any hard questions. “What happened?”
Her girlfriend circled past her, checking the metal shutters on each window in turn, then the larger one on the back door. All were secure. “Nothing yet. It's about what will happen—tomorrow, just after sundown.”
Lyra nearly dropped the pizza from her fingers. We just planned that a few minutes ago. She can't possibly know! But Lyra didn't actually have any idea of just what her girlfriend knew. Her knowledge was at once far reaching and woefully wrong, often varying widely between the two. Whoever she worked for did not understand magic very well. But that wasn't surprising.
“I know,” Bonnie said, sympathetic. “We're not going to make the opera. I'm sorry... I know how much that performance meant to you. I'll find a way to make it up.”
She winced, looking away from Bonnie. She'd seen her distress, but that was what she thought bothered her? She finished chewing, then set the half-finished slice on the box lid. “I don't understand... if something's bad enough that you wanted to put up metal on the windows, wouldn't it be easier to just get out of town?”
Bonnie rested one hand on her shoulder, holding with her usual protective, possessive energy. “If I could be the one to take you, yes. Otherwise—no. There are forces moving, forces you can't imagine. Anyone caught out in that storm is in trouble. Local government is already stepping in—schools are closed, buses shut down. We'll get the highway in and out of Canterlot closed a few hours before sunset. FEMA's standing by, National Guard is mobilized... and I don't think it'll be enough.”
She gestured at the basement door, which stood open. Light radiated from inside. “Supplies are down there. Should be enough in case infrastructure breaks down. But it's not enough for the neighborhood. We can't save everyone, Harper.”
We're not trying to end the world, we're just charging up a key! Which meant something that should have been obvious to her—whatever Bonnie expected had nothing to do with Lyra's friends. Or if it did, it was just as unexpected to them as to her.
“Are you sure this is... all necessary?” she asked. “Bad things happen all the time. The way you look when you get home sometimes, I know there are more monsters out there. Why is this one so serious?”
Her girlfriend released her shoulder, then collapsed into the chair next to hers. “If I could tell you, I would. But knowing wouldn't help. These powers are bigger than us. All the tenacity and ingenuity in the world might not be enough.” She looked sideways towards her, eyes wide and desperate. “I have to go. Everyone is mobilized for this. I report at...” She glanced at the clock, then sagged further into her seat. “Ten.”
Not even two hours. “You're supposed to report like that? Why would you do all this?” She gestured around the house, at the walls covered with new metal shutters, the empty boxes and tools.
Bonnie looked up, expression overflowing with pain. “You have no idea how dangerous these people are, Lyre. They don't just screw with your head—they can make things change around them. Bullets don't shoot straight, vests that don't protect you, cars that stop and computers that malfunction. I had to put you somewhere...”
She reached suddenly across the table, gripping Lyra's arm. “You need to stay in here. Locked up, far away from the danger. Until you hear from me again, or you hear the go-ahead from FEMA that it's safe to go out again. I'm... sure they don't know where this is. It will protect you.”
“You might not make it back,” Lyra argued. She stood, yanking away from her girlfriend. Given her weakness, it was trivial to pry her fingers off Lyra's arm. She backed away, over to her little cupboard of teas. All from Akiko, either as gifts or as an excuse to chat over at the shop. “You're exhausted, look at you. Let me mix you something. I've got some of your favorite oolong here somewhere...”
Bonnie was too weak to protest. She leaned back in her chair, eyes half-closed. “If that helps you feel better. Sure. That's fine. I'd like some tea.” Then she stood, tossing the overalls over her shoulders. “I need to rinse this off. Have it ready when I get back?”
Lyra nodded. She leaned forward, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Sure, Sweetie. I can do that.”
Bonnie nodded weakly, slinking out into the hallway and up the stairs.
After a few seconds, the shower kicked on.
Lyra worked at a fever pitch, tossing the water into the microwave to get it hot enough in time. She poured it over the leaves to steep, touching the edge of her obsidian knife to the liquid. Even without Capper standing beside her, she could still cast the way he taught. She just needed to get creative with her words.
“The sun sets, but the crier's alarm pierces the night. The huntress rises to her duty. What was weary is refreshed. Her duty fills her body with purpose. Her reflexes sharpen, her eyes are alert. Her shots ring true.”
The power left her a second later, leaving a glass reverberating faintly with the coiled potential of the spell. She stuck the knife away into her skirt, seconds before boots came hammering down on the steps.
“Change of plans. When I said ten, I meant ten minutes. Transport is on its way.”
“Drink this first.” Lyra settled the glass into her hands, pushing firmly. “Something warm will help you, Sweetie. It's gonna be cold out there tonight.”
Her girlfriend was dressed for work—all in black, wearing the strange too-heavy fabric vest meant to protect her from certain kinds of supernatural attack. Or maybe just bullets.
She still took the tea, eyeing Lyra for a few seconds. “I don't deserve you, Harper. When this is over... I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll take all that leave I've been saving. Two months, anywhere you want. Any country—but I'd be happier if you picked a safe one.”
Lyra nodded eagerly. They hadn't traveled anywhere further than Canterlot for over a year now. “I'll think of somewhere. Maybe Italy—the musical history there goes back a thousand years!”
She stayed close, eyes on Bonnie until she took the first sip.
That was all it took, though the effects would come on gradually over the next few minutes. If she'd cast it right, anyway.
“You're right, this is my favorite. Thanks, Harper.” She took a few more sips, before settling the glass half-empty onto the counter. “Now, I need you to stay here until you hear from me again. If things work out—it should be two days. Not more than three. If it’s been that long, I didn't make it.”
“You'll make it,” Lyra said, wrapping her in the tightest hug she could. “I'll be waiting for you.”
Lyra paced nervously back and forth in her bedroom. She'd circled the ground there so many times that a thin layer had worked its way into the wood. Every few seconds she stopped, took out her phone, then stuck it back without sending anything.
Her old self would never have hesitated to send a message instantly, but she was wiser now. The Free Council was clear in their rules—magical affairs could never be sent using unprotected methods. There were too many ways to overhear, too many listening ears who might take whatever they learned and use it against the Awakened.
If she was a little more important—enough that they thought she had anything interesting to say—she might have one of their magically-reinforced devices by now. But for reasons Lyra didn't know, only Tabitha had enough prestige in the organization to earn one.
“Let me guess, she found one of the cat pictures? She's afraid you want to adopt yourself.” Capper spoke from behind her, perched elegantly on the dresser. How he'd gotten there, or how long he'd been watching, she couldn't say.
Her usual attentiveness was certainly weaker than it ought to be, given the stress on her mind. She could always tell where Capper was lurking, if she bothered to concentrate.
“Nothing like that.” She stopped beside the dresser, resting one hand on his side. “My girlfriend left to fight again. I think she's hunting the Seers... I hope she is. But she doesn't know enough about the different factions to even know for sure who she's after.”
“She was scared enough to lock you in tight,” the cat said, nuzzling up against her hand. His usual pride and disdain for her was absent then. “Didn't make it easy for me to get in. But she couldn't patch up every hole. Humans never look close enough for that.”
Lyra said nothing for a few moments, petting the cat as she might've done for a real animal. In some ways, maybe he was—or maybe he was both a real animal and her familiar. “She thinks there's gonna be some kind of... disaster. It can't be what Akiko was up to, could it? Charging up a key... no one would get hurt except us! And there's like five of us, not some army. Sounds like half of VALKYRIE will be here.”
The cat slipped past her, batting her fingers away from his side. “You've just now discovered something that should've been obvious. You are one small figure in Awakened society. The Pentacle's five arms all work in secrecy, rarely communicating with each other. Then there are others—the Seers, and worse lunatics outside the Pentacle's embrace. Your lover could be concerned with one or any of those. But what will you do about it?”
She turned away from the cat, stalking over to the window. Usually she would look out on Ponyville, remind herself of what still connected her to her lifetime of old friends and family. But now she couldn't even do that—she only had a metal barrier, sturdy enough to stop bullets. “Akiko needs to know something awful is happening tomorrow night. Charging up her key can't be worth the risk of getting killed. If we have to hide it and come back in six months... better than getting caught out with half the army.”
Capper hopped up onto her bed. He walked slowly along the edge, knocking each of Lyra's stuffed dolls and pillows to the floor in quick succession. “You should be warned. Your lover did more than physically bar the doors and windows. Devices watch over this place—if it opens, she will know.”
Lyra balled both hands into fists. “She’s babysitting me. She didn't trust me to stay inside.”
“You are planning on leaving. She knows you well, though she simultaneously remains entirely ignorant. Like all humans, she is trapped by her biases—only a monster could be a mage, which you are not.”
“Is there a... magical way to disable them?” she asked. “Wait, don't say anything. I know there is. Is there a way I can use?”
“Not easily. Your study of the Spirit Arcanum lags far behind. I doubt you could convince the mind of the machine to obey you. Fail once, and the alarm might sound. I would not attempt it in your place.”
You wouldn't need to. Lyra picked up her phone again, flipping through her contacts. Any message she sent might get read at some point. Bonnie could probably hack and read everything on her device, even if she insisted otherwise. But she didn't say I couldn't tell anyone. I just can't get specific.
Her fingers danced over the touchscreen, composing a message to Akiko and Tabitha. The other two would hear from one of them—but if Lyra sent every message to the same group, it might provoke its own kind of suspicion. “I've just learned some very bad news. Bonnie has canceled our weekend plans, and told me not to leave the house. It's going to be very dangerous for a while—I think everyone should keep their heads down and play it safe.”
Not a great message, so far as codes went. But if anyone was clever enough to assemble hidden meaning from what she didn't include, it was Akiko.
She sent the message, then stuck the phone back into her pocket before the anxiety could swallow her. Right now they would be reading over it, trying to figure out why she sent it, and what it could mean.
“You think that will be enough?” her familiar asked, hopping down beside her. “Whisper to the others in your Cabal, and they'll undo whatever nightmares? You think the Obrimos will abandon her ambition? I don't. I smell it on her every time she speaks—she is consumed by her need. Nothing matters more to her than mysteries solved, power reclaimed. She will not change for this, you'll see.”
She did, a few seconds later. The phone flashed, and a message appeared there. “If you think the danger is real, we should talk about it. Tabitha's is closest.”
Seconds later Tabitha's message appeared at the bottom of the group text. Even so, the message was short and noncommittal. “I planned to burn the midnight oil. I'll listen for the door if you stop by.”
Lyra slumped onto the bed, beside a pile of discarded plush toys. “They don't know about Bonnie. If they knew my information came from the ones hunting for mages—I think they'd listen better.”
“Maybe. But then you would need to decide which loyalty was more important. They might expect you to probe deeper, report her movements, and eventually lead you to acts that could get her killed. The perils of loving a Sleeper—in all things you will be so tormented.”
She whimpered, resting her head against her knees. “I don't even know what's gonna happen. Except—Bonnie's not dumb. If she thinks it's bad, she's right. It can't be a coincidence that it's happening the same night, can it?”
“Anything could be,” Capper said. “Yet I agree with your assessment. Someone moves among the traitor kings. That Seer you encountered the night of your Awakening, perhaps. But much more than just a single soul, or mortal authorities would not have mobilized so strongly. They believe great numbers are here arrayed. They are right to bring force against the Awakened if they hope to succeed. Only such an overwhelming response has any merit.”
“And my friends will be out in it,” she said. “And me. We could get caught with the evil ones.”
“You could.” Capper pawed at her shoulder, nudging her into a proper sitting position. “Or you could tell the other Willworkers in your Cabal what you know, convince them to change their course. They might.”
“I'd have to get out first.” Lyra stood up, hurrying down the steps. She stopped beside the reinforced window and door covers, squinting over each one for signs of whatever anti-tamper system her girlfriend had left. They were only held in place by mechanical lock, meant to be opened from her side. Lyra could open any of them.
But if she did, her girlfriend would know. She might be so consumed with worry that she didn't fight well. Worse, she might even suspect Lyra had something to do with the new enemy she was fighting.
This was so much easier when she hunted the Kindred.
“Okay, I give up,” she said, after completing one circuit of the house. She didn't have to turn around to know her familiar was following close behind. “How do you think I should get out?”
The cat laughed. “Eat well, so your mind will be clear. Then hang up your clothes, take your knife, and follow me.”
She hurried back into the kitchen and tossed several slices of pizza onto a plate. “After today? If I follow you out the same way...”
Capper shrugged. “I would not have allowed your mind to wander. They interfered in my lesson. No one is here to do so a second time. Trust me, Lyra. Have I ever taught you false magic? Have I made promises I couldn't keep?”
She scarfed down a few slices of reheated pizza, wishing very much that her girlfriend could be there to share them. It took her only a few minutes—long enough to make up her mind.
“I have to trust someone,” she said, tossing her plate into the trash. She went through the house then, switching off lights, closing doors. She reached her bedroom, where she paused to check her phone one last time. No new messages.
Lyra settled it into the charger, removing only her magical tool from her purse before putting the rest aside.
“We need something soft to bind it with—bandage, leave that within reach. You'll thank me when you don't have those thumbs anymore.”
She obeyed, tossing down a little roll of bandage from the first aid kit, before removing her clothes one item at a time.
That wouldn't be an option in the Free Council's Hallow, but in her own bedroom—she would manage. Her familiar surely didn't care. “The same spell as last time? Do you think I can cast it without the book?”
She settled onto one of the discarded pillows, then took her knife carefully in one hand. More so than usual, considering how little she wore.
“You will, and you must. Any other method risks detection by your lover. Besides—there may not be another opportunity to instruct you. Given the danger, it is likely we will need this magic again in the next two days. Better to practice now, when the wave hasn’t yet come crashing down.”
“I thought you said I'd hate it. Cats and water, I mean...”
“You will,” he agreed. “But so will I. Misery loves company. As it turns out, most mortal snipers are somewhat less likely to shoot alley cats than mysterious figures in the shadows. Let's not see your promising career ended by a bullet tonight.”
She nodded tearfully, wiping away moisture on her arm. “Right. I think I'm ready. I remember the words.”
“Begin,” he ordered. “Make no mistakes. You have no Hallow to sustain you this time. Invoke no paradox—we have too much to do.”
Capper always kept his promises. That included Lyra’s first uninterrupted chance to practice with the magic of true transformation. With his careful guidance, prodding her away from caving to the instincts of her form, Lyra kept from getting into too much trouble.
Her trip across Ponyville was not quick exactly. Her companion was still a cat, and cats were not terribly interested in running when there were more dignified ways to get around. But from a foot off the ground, there was no chance of being accidentally detected.
She felt the tension in the air—sometimes with the supremely alert animal senses, but also with that diffuse, unnamable instinct, raising the hackles on the back of her neck. Ponyville was in tension, a spring pulled back as far as it would go.
She saw it in a dozen ways. Barely any traffic on the streets, with numberless owls and crows gathering in the skies above. People glanced furtively to either side when they went out, and parents pulled their children closer as they hurried them into their homes.
Even humans could tell something was wrong, though there were few overt signs. The most direct she saw was the barricaded freeway onramps, and evening buses that just didn’t arrive. The forces commanding Bonnie had already taken steps to slow travel. But is the attack coming in Ponyville, or Canterlot?
Strange people moved through the streets, scattered in small groups. They dressed in nondescript black clothing, often concealing bullet-proof vests, and drove unmarked SUVs.
A few of them glanced in her direction when she emerged from an alley, only to turn away from her.
“I can’t believe I can just... get away with this,” she mewed, when they finally emerged from the last of the back alleys and reached the road leading towards Saddle Lake, where Tabitha’s mansion was located. “Naked vulgar magic, humans looking right at me. But no paradox.”
“Nothing improbable about a cat wandering around at night,” he answered, amused. “Rewire your car to drive it at this size, then get pulled over. See how long your magic lasts then.”
It wasn’t really an invitation, of course—it was a warning, one she needed no instruction to honor. Adopting a new pet already tried Bonnie’s patience enough. If she started making a car a cat could drive, her mage-hunting girlfriend was going to get suspicious.
“So like... the same way Bonnie doesn’t notice me healing her, or making her not tired. So long as I make it plausible—”
“The sleeping soul recoils from Supernal light,” Capper finished. “But not forever. Just as the wolves that once retreated from ancient fires, in time they saw the warmth for what it was, and the outstretched hand replaced the spear. I see her soul stirring.”
You can do that? Lyra didn’t ask out loud, or will the question to her familiar. She could keep thoughts to herself when she wished, so long as he wasn’t watching closely. If he heard her question, he didn’t answer it. Besides, they were soon joined by another.
A strange white cat leapt down from a nearby tree, where she had likely been watching for some time. She landed dexterously despite the distance—of course she did. Only human bias suggested that jump should be anything difficult.
“Greetings to you,” she said, inclining her head. “My master who is alchemist sends you welcome, and warning.”
Opal always talked like that to her ears, even when she used the language of cats. Strangely formal, halting and unnatural. Not a real cat at all, any more than Capper was. But he was much better at it.
Capper pushed her gently back, bowing to the other familiar in a formal way. She’d never seen it before—but she’d also never been alone with two familiars before. Did they have customs the same as mages did?
“We thank you for your greeting. What is your warning?”
“Strangers besiege the house. My master did not know what brought them, but the Willworker is in a state of great discomfort. She advises you to retreat and find another sanctuary.”
Opalescence was so much bigger up close. Bigger than Lyra by no small margin, with a glittering collar around her neck. Despite her perfect fur, she still had all her claws. Knowing Tabitha, they were probably sharp enough to cut through steel.
Capper nodded to her. “The message is received.” He turned on the larger cat, brushing against Lyra in an animal way. It would almost translate as “I already have a female,” though it must have some deeper meaning around familiars. They weren’t really animals, no matter how they looked.
“Your friend wants your help desperately,” he thought, directly to her mind. “But she won’t ask, because you’re new at this and it might get you killed.”
Lyra stared, ears folding back in astonishment at the quality of the translation. For an inhuman spirit, that was incredible insight into how humans thought, let alone her own friends. Tabitha would never ask for help, she was always the generous one.
“Can I help?” she asked, as silently as he had. Just as she could keep her thoughts from him, she could also focus her attention on them, increasing the chances he would listen. “Without getting killed.”
He nudged her shoulder with one paw, then nodded in a distinctly human way. “On four paws, I think so. But if we go, don’t think I will be waiting in the wings to pull you from the fire. I can cast no spells you can’t. My powers are yours.”
She met his eyes. Standing beside Opalescence, it was even clearer to her how different her familiar was from Tabitha’s. Something more than a cat looked back at her in both cases. But from Capper she felt something almost human.
“No secret spirit spells you’ve been holding out from me?”
He stuck out his feline tongue. “They’re called Numina. Spirits don’t cast spells.”
You didn’t actually answer.She shoved past him as roughly as she dared with a bigger, stronger male, facing Opalescence directly. Despite the word, a familiar wasn’t actually some physical extension of the soul. Opal wasn’t a young cat like Capper, but an old, elegant beast, as large as any feline could grow.
“I want to help Rarity,” she said. She didn’t know any of the formality expected with someone else’s familiar—only the basic stuff. Tabitha could see through Opal’s eyes and cast spells through her, if she wanted. “Can you lead us to her without getting caught.”
The cat lifted her tail, turning her head to one side with obvious pride. “I could cross from one end of this plane to the other without allowing mortal eyes to fall upon my countenance. You bumble around like a kitten crunching every leaf that falls. You would knock over the trees if they weren’t rooted to the ground.”
Lyra blinked, momentarily dumbfounded by the reply. Not so much because it was unexpected—even when she couldn’t understand Opalescence, the cat’s mews always sounded pompous and proud.
If being around Capper was bad...
“I’ll manage,” Lyra said, voice flat. “Choose the easiest path, please. Fit for a... bumbling kitten like me.”
“Fine. My master would be glad for any help. It is not for me to judge the ones she calls allies. Come.”
She came. Along the road, into the underbrush, then through a narrow opening in the wall. Despite what the familiar said, she kept pace with little difficulty. Lyra’s transformation went deeper than just changing her skin—she could think like a cat when she had to, balancing on narrow ledges, squeezing through small gaps, or crawling in long, dark spaces.
“I don’t know why Tabitha puts up with her,” she said silently, as their journey continued. Rapid or not, they were still only cats, so wouldn’t be going anywhere with great speed. “Mages can always understand their familiars, right? If you talked like that I never would’ve made a pact.”
Capper pawed along beside her, always close enough to catch her if her paw slipped, or keep her from stepping into a patch of hidden mud.
“They’re all like that. Your friend chose a spirit of gemstones—fitting for an alchemist. And if you think this one is bad, talk to a fetch sometime. Without a body in the material, it’s little better than speaking the First Tongue across the Shadow. You can’t really have a relationship with one—mage and spirit alike just see each other as useful tools. Exchange is made, service rendered.”
They emerged from under a log onto perfectly manicured grass stretching up a hill. In the distance, red and blue lights flashed, with a short line of cars parked in a spacious drive. Human voices conversed, but they were still too distant to identify. She could only make out their suspicion and concern—an energetic argument, with tempers flaring high.
“But not you,” she thought back. She slowed on the grass, enough that their guide turned to glare in her direction, hissing quietly. “You never ask for essence. Why are you helping me?”
“Vengeance.” They crept along to the house, slipping off the grass and into the damp planter-box beside it. A perfectly-manicured garden sheltered them from the night, though it did mean getting dirt on Lyra’s otherwise clean paws.
“Willworker, be alert. There are intruders inside the house. Give them reason, and they might kill or capture you. How long will that spell last?”
She glanced nervously at her companion. But he kept silent, leaving her to answer. “Dunno. A few hours more if I’m lucky.”
“So don’t get caught,” Opalescence said. “Or transform while unconscious in a tiny metal box. Now—my master does not wield the power of telepathy. I must take you to... a place on the second floor. She left a message for you there. She desires urgently for you to find and read it. I believe time is counting down towards something critical.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
They slunk along the building, until they came to an open window. She jumped onto the ledge, then squeezed underneath after her.
Tabitha’s mansion was not in good shape. The lights were all out, and the contents of many drawers and cabinets had been dislodged roughly onto the wooden floor. Some of her priceless art was now broken and shattered, or trampled under heavy boots.
Some of those boots moved elsewhere in the home. She heard them clearly, stomping around several floors above. Which meant they would need to go closer.
The raid was surprisingly silent. She heard few shouts, only the occasional piece of furniture falling over, or door banging open. Even so, the human invaders made enough noise that Lyra felt no need to sense for their life-energy to know where they were. Despite the darkness and lack of voices, they might as well be shouting their intentions with every new step.
Soon they were on the top floor, crawling under a heavy multi-section couch where a little slip of paper rested. Opal took it in her mouth, then led them to the light of a still plugged-in cell phone charger.
That tiny glow was enough to make out Tabitha’s note, scrawled so fast that she could barely read it.
Heartstrings, they’re not here for me. I don’t know why, but they’re after my sister. I’m trying to distract them, but if they find her, please protect her. If you can get her off the grounds, Starlight can get her somewhere safe
Her sister? Lyra tilted her head to the side, reading and re-reading the note just to be sure. VALKYRIE was moving on mages, weren’t they? So why would they be hunting an ordinary teenage girl?
“I cannot read it,” Opal said, matter-of-factly. “What does the master ask of you?”
“Help... Isabelle,” Lyra said. “That’s who they’re really after. They don’t know anything about Tabitha.”
Then something exploded. Gunfire rang out through the house, piercing the relative silence. Glass shattered, and a whole wall came tumbling down.
Chaos overflowed around her. The air filled with dust, and the harsh echo of gunfire. As a human being, she'd been trained to deal with situations like this. But all that training and practice couldn’t help her as a cat—she could only press herself to the ground, cowering in terror. What was going on? Why was everything so loud? What was that awful smell of burning?
“Child. Open your eyes. Look at me.”
His voice might not have pierced the awful noise if it came as word alone. But Capper's speech cut through soul as well as mind, granting clarity in chaos. She looked up, dared to open one eye, then the other.
“Inaction is death,” he continued. “For you or your allies. Perhaps we flee, perhaps we fight. But cowering is not the way.”
She nodded weakly, then stood. Tabitha's familiar was gone already, without so much as a tuft of fur left behind. She hadn't been too intimidated by the danger to rush into it. But how could Lyra help with something so destructive?
She needed a spell, needed something. So she focused, drawing faint lines of a few symbols in the dust in front of her with one paw. Whether or not that helped at all from the paw of a cat, she couldn't say. But she felt driven regardless. One of Capper's lessons rubbing off on her, maybe.
Information rushed into her mind, focused firmly on the human. No cat was prepared to sense the heartbeat of the living world. Using other magic, any magic, brought conscious clarity.
She dismissed all the other small creatures, focused entirely on the human-sized. Many moved upstairs, men and women overflowing with adrenaline and hostility.
One went flying another way—straight out into empty air, landing torn and broken on the floor. Vibrant life turned to a desperate struggle at the impact, labored heartbeat and gasping breaths.
Whoever that is, that's where I need to go.
Lyra bounded out from behind the couch, hopping up onto a cushion. It didn't matter that the house was filled with humans rushing around towards their own inscrutable goal. Let them do what they would, she had a purpose now.
She made it to the steps in a few seconds, then out through the open window she'd entered, and through the air to the grass.
There was someone out here—a teenager in a nightgown soaked with red blood, and a leg that bent the wrong way. Impossibly, she still moved, with strength that defied any ordinary human. How could she even stay conscious in such pain?
Isabelle. Tabitha's little sister crawled through the dirt, trailing blood and crying out. Or—not crying, singing. There was a melody to it.
“Hear me trees, whisper in your leaves. Morning meadow, shimmering brook. Carry my whispers through spring and...” Her words trailed awkwardly to nothing, strength faltering. No wonder, given the sorry state of her body. Blood trickled down her lips, staining the grass.
That almost felt like a spell. Except when she sang, the girl had no nimbus—no almost-invisible signs of Awakened will. If it was magic, it was nothing like any spell that Lyra could cast.
None of that mattered, of course. Whatever help she was crying for might not come. This was Lyra's student, her friend's sister, shot and bleeding on the ground. Worse, she felt heavy footfalls on the grass. No humans had reached them yet, but they would. Maybe they would finish what they started.
She reached where Izzy fell a few seconds later. Lyra no longer needed physical contact to heal another—but it would still make things easier. She brushed up against the girl's limp fingers, as feline instinct demanded. Hopefully the girl was unconscious, so she wouldn't notice and make the spell improbable.
Izzy opened one green eye, locked suddenly on her. How could she smile through all that pain—like a cracked porcelain doll. “Did... Th-Theo send you?” she asked. “I don't want to die.”
“You won't,” Lyra swore, though of course she expected no comprehension from her. No time to wait, or somehow ask her to look away. If paradox came, she would have to weather it.
“No gardener would trim the cereus before the night. Though rodents gnaw, and aphids draw their sap, she refuses. Her stubborn roots reach deep. The earth's heart beats in her. Weevils cannot build their nests in her limbs. The desert bird flies elsewhere. Death may reach, but today he turns aside. Even his ears may be moved by the song.”
Would those words even work with her feline mouth? Capper had her so trained to cast that way that she couldn't imagine any other.
Lyra's own nimbus exploded around her, outsized for her feline body. She felt the heartbeat through the earth, shaking her paws, spreading new growth where it touched. She tasted blood in her mouth—strangely sweet, unnatural—the fruit of a transplanted tree struggling to find root in new soil.
Isabelle stared, wide-eyed and transfixed, with no distractions or illusions to conceal the nature of Lyra's work. Somehow, the spell worked anyway. She coughed, dislodging a half-dozen little metal balls covered in blood. Izzy inhaled, and this time her breath came without wavering. She sat up, resting on one hand. With the other, she brushed against Lyra's fur, as anyone might pet an affectionate cat.
“That was strange magic,” she said. Not overflowing with terror, like a teenager who'd just been shot and thrown out a third-story window ought to be. “How did you do that?”
Brilliant lights blasted them from around the corner, as several armed figures came rushing forward. They dressed like SWAT or other special police, all vests and oversized weapons. Not at all different from the way Bonnie's VALKYRIE unit had her dress.
In the same moment, another sound shook the air, so strange that it had her completely paralyzed with fear. Blaring... trumpets? In the dim shadow of the night, the treeline shattered, with small trees and bushes trampled under the advance of thundering hooves.
Lyra squealed in surprise, cat senses utterly unprepared for the explosion before her. Gigantic animals, the bark of automatic weapons, along with human shouting over a megaphone.
Fortunately, her instincts couldn't get the better of her—a pair of human arms lifted her, holding her firmly against soft fabric stained with blood.
“You're here?” Izzy sang to a stranger, stepping up off the ground onto something wooden and shaking. “That soon? I owe you.”
“Careful how you say that,” answered another voice. Male, though unusually high and melodious. The ground shook again, so violently that Lyra squirmed against her binding. But Izzy's grip was too strong, and so she couldn't get anywhere. “You've accrued enough new debts for one night, Fairest.”
The sound of running hooves shifted to a light trot, with gunfire and worse fading into the distant background. As the sound and light and smells faded, Lyra's faculties gradually returned. She stopped squirming, and opened one eye, surveying her surroundings.
She was riding in a chariot, like something ripped right out of ancient history. Its driver was... impossible. A towering figure, his skin glittering like gemstones, with huge antlers over his head and crown floating over it all, dark metal wrapped in green vines.
I must be in the spirit world. We crossed the Gauntlet. She'd known that focusing so heavily on Life would eventually come back to bite her.
The girl holding her loosened her grip, obviously sensing Lyra's calm. As she did, she could twist in her arms, enough to look up.
It was still Isabelle, almost. But this was Isabelle as no human girl could ever possibly look. Her skin was perfect, flawless white, her hair cascading down her back like some Renaissance painting. Every suggestion was impossible beauty, more angel than girl. I healed her. She has a beating heart. She isn't Kindred.
“To your colleague,” Izzy said. “I know that—no getting around it. She saved my life.” She settled down on the chariot’s bench, resting Lyra there on her lap. “I don't know how I'll repay you, stranger. But I will. Spring always repays.”
Now she was calm enough to look around, searching for her familiar. But Capper was nowhere in sight. Had he even made it out of the house? If he did, he wasn't on this chariot. “Can you hear me?”
Only silence answered.
There were other chariots in the dark, though her eyes refused to focus long on their occupants. They were as freakish in their own ways as the driver in this one. And other things ran along the ground, somehow keeping pace with horses.
Maybe she could call out to local spirits for help? Except—she didn't even seem to need it. She felt no hostility from Izzy, only her repeated professions of a debt to be repaid.
“No beast of mine,” said the driver. “In fact, that creature is bound by no contract.”
Izzy gasped. Her hand lifted from Lyra's neck, her body suddenly going still. Those words were terrifying to her.
Suddenly they were pulling to a stop, passing through an arch of living leaves and vines. Beyond it was another space—a little like walking into a Renaissance faire. Tents and pavilions rose up against the moonlight, standing in a field of vibrant flowers and grasses. Creatures and people moved between them, all evidently in costume. Or maybe their natural bodies just looked that strange.
None gave Izzy or the chariot’s driver a second glance. A few eyes lingered on her, though, despite her small size.
Finally they stopped, and the driver released the reins, turning in place. Izzy moved to stand, and Lyra hopped down off her lap onto the railing, balancing there with feline grace.
Maybe she could navigate her way out—dodging between all those legs, and into the wilderness. But something about that seemed very dangerous. She smelled predators here, of a kind that no cat had ever met. Maybe with Capper she could face them, but not alone.
Instead she cast another spell—simpler than healing. She would never dare use something like that with humans watching. But these clearly weren't humans. Maybe they would tell her what they were if she asked nicely.
“I'm glad you're feeling better, Izzy. It looked like you weren't going to get up.”
Neither observer reacted with particular surprise to her speech, now that she'd cast the spell that would let her speak with human language. If anything, the taller male seemed annoyed it had taken her this long.
Isabelle curtseyed to her. The gesture was so simple—yet somehow reminded Lyra of the same formality she saw in the Pentacle. Not the same ritual exactly, but cut from the same cloth. “Thank you. Do I know you?”
Others crowded around the chariot, at least a dozen strange figures. Lyra did her best not to look at them—one seemed to have skin made from stone, another was shriveled and disfigured with a level of ugliness that defied simple explanation. Others had animal features, and carried similar scents.
Best to keep her attention focused on these two, or else lose her discipline and flee in terror. As it was, she was so overwhelmed that Lyra couldn't form worlds. In its way, this place was just as impossible as the Supernal.
“You saved the life of one from my court,” said the towering figure. “By my authority as King of Spring, I request and require that you show your face to me, so that I might give proper honors.”
Was that magic? She couldn't tell—but she couldn't resist. Lyra's spell unraveled in an instant. Her body expanded, fur faded, and suddenly an act of effortless balance became impossible. She screamed and flailed, then tumbled backward into the mud.
Lyra was somewhere warm. She had a cloak now, wrapped tight around her bare skin. The mud was mercifully gone, scrubbed raw in freezing water. Strange perfume seasoned her skin, though she couldn't say exactly where it had come from.
At least they hadn't left her out in the open. Tucked inside one of the oversized pavilions, she no longer felt quite so overwhelmed. Whatever she had seen outside, at least in here the world made sense.
They let her keep her magical tool. She still had the little obsidian knife, which she'd carried around strapped to herself as a cat. “I don't understand any of this,” she thought, as though Capper would suddenly be able to listen. But if he could, his words still didn't reach her.
I've been depending on Capper too much. He can't help me everywhere.
A bonfire lit the tent in front of her, heavy logs that crackled and sparked from a metal grate. The tent itself might be the living quarters of some ancient king away on campaign, complete with bookshelves, bed, fine dining chairs, and a ground covered in rich carpets.
Through the eyes of Life, Lyra saw nothing of magic in any of it. Not a single spell, even on priceless objects resting on the shelf, resonating with strange energies. This place was magic—or maybe spiritual, whatever difference that made.
Footsteps rustled the soil, and the flap opened. A single figure entered, mercifully familiar. Isabelle had changed too, from her torn and bloody nightgown into a skirt made from—leaves and flower petals, somehow holding itself together when she moved.
At least she's not a vampire. No vampire could ever look so alive.
“I hoped someone would save me,” Izzy said, lingering in the doorway. “I didn't think it would be my music teacher.”
Lyra adjusted the oversized robes. They'd come from the king's own shoulders, much too large and heavy to be comfortable. Lyra smiled back, genuine despite the strangeness. Impossibly beautiful or not, Isabelle was the same girl she'd tutored.
“You were hurt,” she said, rising from her seat. She was still taller than Izzy, though the difference was slight. Compared to such radiance, Lyra's simple humanity might as well be a dirty sock. “And I was in the neighborhood. How's that leg?”
Izzy stood up on her other leg, twisting the formerly broken one to either side. There was no sign of wounds, not even lingering redness. Lyra had outdone herself with that spell. “Not even sore. I've never heard of any contract that heals so well. But King Theodore says it wasn't a contract. What did you do?”
There were rules about “revealing the mysteries.” She hadn't broken those rules yet, but the punishments seemed steep. But did any of those even apply to obvious magical creatures?
“A spell,” she said. “All living things know what health looks like. I mended your pattern—reminded it how it was supposed to be. Only took a little coaxing.”
Izzy crossed from the entrance, resting one hand on her arm. She looked Lyra up and down, green eyes shimmering in the firelight. Though no magic came from her, Lyra still felt as though this must be some kind of spell. Mage sight perhaps, glittering behind her eyes. But without Nimbus, without any hint of the Awakened soul beneath.
“What are you people?” Lyra asked. Maybe there were more polite ways to ask—but she stopped worrying about politeness once the soldiers started shooting. “I can tell you're not human. But you're alive. Even that guy made of rock is alive. It doesn't make sense.”
“We call ourselves 'changelings,'” said another voice. The same familiar speaker, the one who had rescued Isabelle from certain death. The one who overpowered her transformation spell. “There are some other names, but that should be enough.”
Isabelle turned towards the newcomer, and dropped instantly down to one knee. Lyra almost did the same, but stopped short. Even without Capper's company, she could almost sense his presence just behind her, eyes sharp with judgment.
You are Awakened, Lyra Harper. The queens of Atlantis do not bow. Keep your shoulders straight.
So she did, instead settling for a polite nod. “Including my... student, here? Her older sister is a friend of mine, and she's never...”
Tabitha was a much wiser, more powerful mage than Lyra, with years of experience and practice. Yet for all that, she never noticed her sister's strangeness. Even Lyra hadn't, though they had been meeting twice a week for years at this point.
“That's the idea,” Izzy said. “Humans aren't supposed to know. But humans can't do what you did, so I'm... as confused as you are, Miss Harper. I saw you, and you were a cat, and then you weren't. Without any contract with cats to help you...”
Contract? Not the first time these creatures had used that word. It must be particularly meaningful to them, though Lyra still wasn't sure why.
The king nodded back to her, then gestured for Izzy to stand. “I would like to hear her version. Though if she is not truthful, I will speak for her.” She met his eyes then, or tried. Those eyes had little similarity to anything human, fractured and multifaceted like an insect. What part of them was she even supposed to look at? “You are not so bound by truth, but in my court it is customary not to lie.”
Lyra shifted uncomfortably in the ill-fitting robe. Too bad Tabitha wasn't here—she could tailor it into something that made sense with a little magic.
“I'm human,” Lyra said, without a second's hesitation. “But I'm not the way most people are—I'm what humans are supposed to be. I don't have a Lie in my soul anymore. We're called mages, I think. But Capper doesn't like that name much—sets us apart, when we want everyone to be like us. He likes Awakened instead. Because even the deepest sleeper can wake.”
Isabelle looked back with an expression not all that different from the one Lyra wore when the chariot first came to rest in this clearing. That confusion made Lyra feel considerably more relaxed, despite the strangeness everywhere. Pretty or not, she still felt all the same things. She could still be ignorant.
King Theodore had no such hesitation or confusion. “The Awakened are like other humans, Lady Dalton. They are subject to the Mask, the predations of the Others, and the touch of Glamour. But their powers are... indescribable—like the Lost, but they answer to no oath. They're dangerous creatures, best avoided for our safety and theirs. Though some few prove themselves to be friends of the court.”
He nodded to her then, the barest suggestion of respect. “You risked your life for that of the newest member of my court. As she said, Isabelle here owes you a debt, Willworker. Spring will honor it.”
He extended one hand towards her, and thin green vines wrapped around his skin, rising up from the earth. “I name you friend of the court, Lyra Harper. Wherever Spring gives shelter against the Others, wherever dreams are protected and desires honored, you will be welcome.”
Before she could retreat, he clasped his hand on her shoulder. Little feelers wrapped around her bare skin, as though some flowering bush had sprung to life in real time. She held perfectly still, watching as it grew up her neck, then around her head. Leaves rested on her ears in a little living laurel, with blue and yellow blossoms.
“Do you accept this honor? Will you be guest of the court while you stand in our lands?”
There was magic—tendrils of it filled the air, like spiderwebs spun from his words. They formed no Supernal Imago—instead the combination was random and fragmented, flecks of gold suspended briefly in the air before falling away again.
“Being a guest is a good thing?”
Izzy nodded hastily, pleading. “Yes, Miss Harper. It's very important.”
She would not trust this stranger with his crown and antlers—but she had years to know her student. She could trust Izzy. “Then I accept.”
“Good.” The king released her shoulder. Strangely, the magic remained, newly-grown leaves still shone there. Like a nimbus, but without an active spell to create it. It should be impossible, but so should many other things. “Then be welcome. How can the court repay this debt?”
Isabelle is a changeling. She might not be the only one. How many other creatures were out there?
“I...” Lyra looked down, then flushed bright red. “Something to wear would be awesome. Something that actually fits me. And if anyone has seen a black cat about as big as I was, I'd love to talk to him.”
Theodore laughed. Izzy did too, albeit more of the forced “expectation” of humor. She didn't quite understand whatever amused the king.
“Something to wear, we can do. And I'm sure a swift return to the world you know. The specifics of repayment would be best discussed another time. Something roused humanity to anger tonight. Others might need my help without warning. Come.”
He led her into another pavilion, one Lyra took to be a shop of sorts from the overflowing shelves and garment racks inside. “When she is satisfied, bring her to the mirror. I'll meet you there.” He backed out the way he'd come, leaving the two of them alone.
Isabelle remained silent for a few seconds, until the king was gone. Finally she wrapped one arm around her in a shivering hug. “Tonight I thought I would die, Miss Harper. I won't ever forget this.”
Lyra hugged her back, as awkwardly as the oversized cloak allowed. “You don't owe me anything, Izzy. I wouldn't let you die. It doesn't matter what you are, or any of this... changeling stuff. I know you—you're not a monster.”
The girl could look all kinds of impossibly superhuman—there was still a teenager underneath. A girl overwhelmed and confused and scared. All her dignity and poise was a lie.
“W-where I... came from... you'd be... surprised. Monsters can be pretty. The prettiest ones are usually the worst.”
Lyra pulled back, meeting her eyes. “I know that better than you realize, kid. I know monsters—I've killed them before. But I know good people too. I know someone who doesn't deserve what happened to her. To live is to grow, Isabelle. Keep living. One day, you'll grow bigger than your nightmares.”
She cried—not that different from the way she cried when Lyra promised to lie to Tabitha for her, and claim they were going back to the piano. Lyra's magical senses could not pierce the mind of any creature, but she didn't need them to see deep wounds, untreated and bleeding.
She saw, because she recognized a pain that still tormented her on the worst nights. Izzy had seen horrors, and participated in just as many to survive. Like Lyra, she was much too young. Someone had taken terrible advantage of her, and left her ragged and scarred as a result.
Izzy straightened, turning her back on Lyra. She shuffled through the shelves, rattling the clothes hanging there. “I know King Theodore will make sure you get repaid. But I... want to help too. I'm new, I don't know many contracts. But I know one. It might help you.”
She spun, catching Lyra's hands in hers. When she spoke, it was with that weight to her words. Magic flowed from them, though it was strange and its purpose followed no Imago.
“By my true name, I grant you this season. See with eyes unclouded and wander in the blossom of the rose. By my name, shelter by my shield. By my name, dream without fear. By your name, you will keep my secret. In faithlessness the Wyrd will turn its curse. Do you swear?”
Capper is gonna hate me for this. After weeks to finally start feeling like she understood the world, Lyra was up to her neck all over again. But if the magic requires my consent, it can't be that bad? I could just tell her no.
“I swear,” Lyra said. “But could you tell me what that means?”
Izzy relaxed, and a familiar smile returned to her lips. “You get a little of my magic, and promise not to tell anyone what you saw. Well—anyone who doesn't already know about us. Mostly my sister. I mean—I'm not really sure what you were gonna tell her to start with. ‘I turned into a cat and magically healed your sister? Don't worry, she's fine.’”
You don't know she's a mage either. Lyra nodded weakly. “I guess that... makes sense.” There was that regret. Those words were there, if she'd been listening for them. How was she going to tell the rest of the Cabal about what happened now?
I still have to stop Akiko's plan. If Tabitha getting attacked wasn't enough to make her change her mind...
“Don't break oaths,” Izzy went on, as though she hadn't just wrapped magical threads around Lyra against her will. “It's really bad if you do, even with friends. I don't get to decide what happens, the Wyrd does. Anyway... how about something like this? If you fight monsters, this might help you.”
She held up something heavy enough that she had to use both hands, right where it caught the light. An armored top and skirt, formed from thin metal scales and glittering links.
Like everything else here, it was impossibly beautiful. The scales were still leaves—but only shaped like them, each one inlaid with little lines like the veins on a real plant.
Even Capper would approve of this. She took it in both hands, and jerked slightly upward with weight that wasn't there. “It must be magic to be so light.”
Izzy nodded eagerly. “Most of it won't work for you. But the important parts will—keeping you safe, and looking like regular boring human stuff when they look at it. Only a changeling will see what you're really wearing. To anyone else, it's whatever you're supposed to have. Suit, ballgown, bikini, uniform, whatever.”
Akiko and Tabitha might be able to enchant something like this if they worked together. But if they did, it wouldn't look half as beautiful. More importantly, it would radiate magic like a beacon, warning anyone who saw it that Lyra was walking in armed. But her mage sight saw nothing—no spells as she knew them.
“I don't expect anything for saving you,” she repeated. “Really.”
Izzy pushed it against her chest. “If it makes you feel any better, it won't do anything for you if you're not a friend of the court. We'll get it back. But for right now—I think you need it.”
Tomorrow I will. “Okay.”
Izzy beamed back. “Great! Hold on, I think there's some underclothes here. Let's not keep the king waiting.”
When Lyra stepped out into the impossible clearing, it wasn't naked and muddy or wearing fur. Now she felt like she was dressed for war—a thin, flexible top of metal links, with a skirt to match. Somehow it fit her perfectly without adjustment, or even much struggle to get over her damp skin.
It was magic, obviously—the strange, new kind of magic that surrounded her, or rested on her ears as a little wreath.
She was still a plain, ordinary human—but the locals didn't stare and point anymore. Most didn't look away from their work, busy at their forges or gathered around tables with tankards of mead. Curiosity stirred in her, a powerful need to understand more about these creatures and their world.
Many looked inhuman, but all seemed driven by entirely familiar drives. They laughed and sang and worked. They didn't watch her with desperate hunger, with fangs emerging from under perfect lips.
Then they reached the mirror. It towered over everyone, at least twelve feet of metal and glass, perfect and unbroken. True to his word, King Theodore waited there, lounging on a stump and reviewing something on his... tablet.
Even this strange place had technology, it seemed.
Theodore stood as they approached, looking from Isabelle to Lyra and back again. “Interesting choice. Is the Willworker going to war?”
“Yes,” Lyra answered, before her student could say anything. “Unfortunately. People have been fighting monsters so long they can't tell when someone is on their side.”
The king gestured with one hand. “Go, Isabelle. Make yourself comfortable in the Hollow. Returning you to the mortal world requires greater consideration. Write a letter to your family, I will see it delivered.”
She curtseyed to him, squeezed Lyra's hand, then scampered away into the camp without a backward glance.
“Where are we, anyway?” Lyra asked. “I thought it was the Shadow, but the longer I'm here the more I realize that's wrong. I haven't seen a single spirit since I got here.”
“It's called the Hedge,” Theodore said. “The dream that separates your world from a nightmare you can't comprehend. It is exceptionally dangerous for your kind to travel here. You should never seek it, or walk its doors alone.”
She nodded. Not that she would make any more promises—but Theodore sounded like he told the truth. Like trusting Capper, it was usually best to believe the ones who had the information, until they did something to make her doubt their word. “You can send me home?”
“Not to where we came from. Spring would never do that to a friend. But somewhere safe, yes. With more time, we could return you to a specific place. But if I had to dispatch an agent, that would spend some of what we owe. All actions in service weigh, until our accounts are balanced.”
“Unless I want to stay friends,” she said, looking all the way up into those strange eyes. “Not because I want to be owed anything, but—because the world is full of monsters. When good people find each other, we should stick together. Work together towards common goals. Look out for each other.”
Her eyes lingered on his antlers, and the crown hovering overhead. That kind of display was something the Kindred might use, if they were capable. But monsters like them only knew false life, stolen from others.
“You think that wise?”
She shrugged. “I think you make stuff grow, like I do. Anyone who brings life has to be good.”
He laughed—like Capper, with a mocking bitterness that came from long years and much sadness. “I warn you, Willworker. You are dangerously naive. Darkness looms over all, drooling and ready to devour. It wears many cloaks, and speaks many promises. If you listen and believe, you will soon find yourself sworn to a dozen evils. My court welcomes your desires. Others would wield you like a cudgel, or leave you lifeless in the thorns for the danger you present. All you see are refugees and survivors, Willworker. Consider what we fled.”
He ran one hand along the mirror, brushing the glass as though reaching down into a pool. The glass rippled and split, and her reflection vanished through it. On the other side, she saw—trees, and the walls of a domed greenhouse.
She knew that place. “The... Canterlot Botanical Gardens?”
He nodded. “You will be safe. It is the property of my court, its guards will permit you to pass without question. Someone is waiting for you. She may already be known to you—I'm not sure. Perhaps she can answer your questions about us in a way that makes more sense to you. She still owes me.” He gestured to the glass, a little more insistent. “Thank you for your help, Willworker. I hope you will prove a friend to Spring.”
She stepped through, and her feet found familiar soil. A huge greenhouse, with trees of various kinds growing in their specific ground. Only the moonlight lit it now, leaving her to stumble awkwardly through the space towards the door.
Someone was waiting just outside, with a flashlight in one hand and a crowbar in the other. Lyra tensed, raising both arms reflexively to defend herself—but she let them down just as quickly, a feeble smile spreading across her face.
“Starlight? What are you doing here?”
She couldn't call the girl a “friend” yet exactly, not while she only knew her by her shadow name. Maybe they were getting there—or maybe Starlight was the one who slipped her catnip during her first attempt with transformation. Lyra still needed to figure out who had done that.
Starlight lowered the flashlight from her face, resting the rusty crowbar on her shoulder. “You didn't get caught? We thought they dragged you in with Rarity. You escaped into the Hedge?”
At least King Theodore had told her a little useful information during her brief visit. “I guess so. Do you have a phone? I need to talk to Akiko—” She reached for Starlight's purse, then brought her hand up short. “Wait, what did you say about Tabitha?”
Starlight slid the crowbar into a heavy loop in her belt, then took Lyra's wrist, tugging her along the path towards the road. “She's not the only one. I think it was mostly about her sister. Izzy was a...” She trailed off, eyeing her. “And you knew. Look at you, marching out of there like a Summer knight. That's how you figured out shapeshifting so fast! Theo tutored you, didn't he?”
Lyra was out of energy for slack jawed staring. Maybe if they were all still alive tomorrow night, she would manage it. “I did not know anything until right now. I still don't feel like I know very much. I don't remember you mentioning you knew the king.”
“Spring King,” she corrected, without missing a beat. “And I can't usually talk about it. Maybe we should... work through all these details another time. Changelings aren't the ones attacking us.”
Lyra nodded her agreement. It was enough to know she had a friend who could help answer hard questions. When the battles were over, she could work on filling in the gaps in her understanding. “Fine. You all got my warning—is everyone hiding now?”
“Whatever good it does,” Starlight said. “Tea shop is compromised, probably the Sanctum there too. A few other places across the orders. Nobody can exactly tell who is being hit or why—seems pretty random. How did you know about it?”
She looked away. Better not to answer than give a lie, if she could help it. “I learned right when I sent the message. But I thought the worst of it was coming tomorrow, not tonight. This is a warm up.”
Starlight whistled. “Well that's fantastic. Free Council is going to ground, heads down. Other orders will probably call us cowards for it. The Arrow wants to hurt them so bad they know not to pull shit like this again. Guardians will be poking around every Sanctum in the city to find the source of the breach. But we have to live through it all first. Come on.” She broke into a jog.
Soon they reached the parking lot, and a tiny car concealed in shadow. Starlight drove a car so small it was downright comical, one of those toy-looking smart cars. She could probably have fit a second one in the spot next to it.
Lyra scrambled into the passenger seat. “Are we sure it's safe to drive?”
“For you? No. Me—yes. I'm feeling lucky.”
She turned the engine, and it caught instantly, purring to quiet life. She left the headlights off, pulling down the parking lot. She waited there a second, motionless.
Several cars roared down the road in front of them, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Then as quickly as they'd come, the peaceful quiet of the night returned. Starlight pulled onto the road, then picked a direction seemingly at random.
“Sunset has a place the Order doesn't know about—project she was working on with Twilight, to replace the old Sanctum. Kinda sucks in there, but we need somewhere. Hope you like horses.”
Lyra shrugged. “Anywhere is fine, so long as people will listen to me. Are we going to pull Tabitha out?”
“Don't think so. Sunset's scrying her, but I think they're almost finished with the interrogation. All their questions are about Izzy. They wanted to see if she was complicit in murdering the real Isabelle.”
Lyra gasped. Her heart slowed, fingers suddenly numb. “I mended the real Isabelle's pattern a few hours ago. She's not dead.”
“They're talking about the fetch,” Starlight said, as though that was supposed to mean something. “But she didn't kill it. She worked something out with the fake—I'm not sure exactly what. But the fetch is gone, and someone noticed the difference. Someone who doesn't have a clue what they're hunting.”
Neither do I, Lyra thought, bitter.
Something finally answered. “Lyra, you're alive! I thought the Wild Hunt would take you all the way to Arcadia!”
Lyra grinned, relief overpowering annoyance at the fresh assault of concepts she didn't understand. “Capper! Where are you?”
So the cat wasn't omniscient after all. He sounded genuinely relieved. He hadn't noticed her return until she sent her thoughts to him willingly. “You're asking me? I never left this plane of existence! You're the one who decided to mingle with fairies! You have no idea how much danger you were in!”
He was right about one thing, at least.
Starlight didn't seem to notice her distraction, focused on her driving. They wandered through the city in a meandering, random route, dodging past roadblocks and watching police with what she could only describe as inhuman good fortune. Starlight had no list of checkpoints or scanner radio, she just randomly changed direction, and always happened to drive where they needed.
“We're headed out of the city,” she thought. “Reagan has a secret place. I don't know where yet, but horses are involved. Can you get to me?”
Laughter answered, a sensation as welcome as it was familiar. “It will take time. But now that you're back in the Material, I'll find you. Stay out of trouble.”
Maybe now she actually had a chance to do just that. They passed city limits, then took a random backroad among a dozen others, driving past isolated homesteads until they came to one identical driveway, with a “No Trespassing” sign and a crooked mailbox.
Starlight parked beside it, then gestured for Lyra to open the gate. “The girls are all here. Probably the safest place we could go until it's over.”
“I... know somewhere safer,” she said. “If we want to use it. Please tell me Akiko doesn't still plan on charging up her artifact.”
Starlight sighed, with the same weight of exhaustion that Lyra felt. “I wish I could tell you that. But if you know Twilight, you know she has no survival instinct. She'll keep pushing her luck forever, until it snaps. Taking the rest of us with her, when it all comes crumbling down.”
Lyra opened the gate, then closed it again behind their car. Soon enough they were up the winding drive to the relatively uninteresting home at the end. She'd seen its like many times, a 1970s style oversized farmhouse, with flat bricks and metal roof instead of shingles. The land around it was overgrown with wild grass, with only the portion directly in front of the house mowed and maintained. There was also a large barn nearby, bigger and nicer than the house itself.
“Reagan owns a place like this?” Lyra asked, as they finally pulled to a stop. Several other cars already waited here—Akiko's, Reagan's, and one other she couldn't identify. “I didn't think her sushi job paid this well.”
“It doesn't,” Starlight said, slipping out the door. “Ask her about how she got it if you care. I'm the wrong girl to complain about past mistakes.”
They didn't walk into the house, with its windows dark and interior quiet. Instead, Starlight led them into the barn.
There were horses inside, though thankfully they wouldn’t be remaining in that section for long. Lyra would have to resist the urge to try and talk to them—this time. Past the animals was a staircase leading down, then old equipment and a tunnel of rusting metal, until they came to a hidden workshop.
Compared to the Sanctum they’d left behind, this place was laughable—naked cable ran along the floor of rough stone, with little more than rubber mats for protection. The walls had no fine art, only arcane glyphs cut into them, pulsing with their own power. Wards—powerful ones, if how they felt was any guide. They were so complex that a glance told her nothing about what she was seeing.
She found her friends gathered around a folding table and some camp chairs, surrounded by hard plastic boxes. One of them sat open, revealing industrial quantities of firearms within, in scary-looking black metal.
“Lyra, you made it!” Akiko appeared, giving her a brief, tight hug. “Sounded like you were going over to see Tabitha, then...”
“I did.” She explained what had happened, at least until the moment she ended up with Isabelle in another world. She had made promises about that, and breaking them would probably be an exceptionally bad idea.
“She got away,” she finished lamely. “I’m not sure where she is anymore, exactly. But she’s safe. I think Starlight can vouch for it.”
Starlight had a plastic water bottle from somewhere, turning it over in her hands. She cracked the seal in two fingers, then nodded weakly. “We don’t need to worry about Isabelle. She’s in a safehouse the humans can’t find.”
“I’m more interested in how you knew everything was about to unravel,” Reagan said. She didn’t look up from her work, attention fixed on something in front of her. A gun, along with a set of tools to go with it. She worked the weapon over with the kind of loving attention one of the Kindred would give to their prized possessions. “Are you getting visionary dreams now? That’s usually a Fate thing.”
Visionary dreams? Maybe she could get them to believe that, and preserve the true source of her information. The less anyone looked into Bonnie, the better off she would be.
Any lie strengthens the Lie.
Her familiar didn’t even have to whisper anymore. She’d been trained into his way of thinking.
Infuriatingly, Capper was right. “I don’t know specifics. But I know some things. People hunting us—hunting the Seers of the Throne, and sometimes catching us in the net instead. But they usually didn’t know the difference. They’re planning something huge tomorrow night. So big they shut down the freeway, closed public transport, and called in the National Guard.”
“Tomorrow?” Akiko asked, panic visible on her face. “Their big move wasn’t tonight?”
“I don’t think so. This source wouldn’t lie to me. I was supposed to stay home, locked in where I was safe. But that would mean abandoning you, which wasn’t happening.”
“Tabitha is in an interrogator’s chair in a monastery eight miles from here. If she slipped, we might have to rescue her at any second. Who captured her?”
“They’re the... Order of St. George,” Lyra answered. “Witchfinders. Like I said, they’re here hunting the Seers of the Throne. But they don’t actually know that—they just know there’s magic here. They aren’t very good at telling friends from enemies.”
“And you know about them,” Starlight said. “You knew what they were planning and when. Why?”
Now or never. She looked around the circle—at Akiko, focused on her artifact. At Starlight, pacing back and forth, and Reagan with her gun. They deserved an explanation. “Because when I was a teenager, vampires made me a ghoul. When hunters showed up to wipe them out, they kept me alive. Nursed me back to health... kept me from crawling back to the Kindred when the cravings almost killed me.”
Akiko set down her tools, then rested one hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “You... I had no idea, Lyra. When you dropped out—”
She nodded. “Yeah. That was... when it started. Anyway, I’m still close with that hunter. We... sleep together, actually. I love her more than anything. When I got home today, she’d turned our house into a fortress, and locked me inside. Obviously I got out anyway, warned you all. That’s why we can’t charge your artifact, Akiko. I know how scary tonight was—it’s gonna get worse.”
“Does she know about you?” Reagan asked, without missing a beat. “And the Pentacle? And us?”
Lyra shook her head emphatically. “No idea. All this time I’ve known her, she’s talked about hunting things. She didn’t tell me because she thought I would pass the message on to friendly mages—I don’t think she even believes we could be friendly. She told me because she doesn’t want me on the streets getting killed. Which is exactly where I was, and exactly what almost happened. And if we go through with your plan, Akiko—we’ll walk right into the middle of it.”
Reagan slipped away a few minutes later, with a clear mission to “retrieve Tabitha.” She was only gone a short time before the two of them reappeared down the steps, clothes damp with rain and looking in various states of disrepair.
Lyra jerked upright from her seat, nearly dropping the phone she'd been borrowing. A little of Akiko's computer skills and she was hooked up to the messages forwarded from her device back home—but it made no difference. Bonnie hadn't said anything. Because, of course, she was out there right now, maybe even hunting other mages.
Everyone rushed over to Tabitha, embracing her with various levels of affection. Not all of them had the same affinity for her, or the same level of relationship. Even so, everyone welcomed her back to them. With Lyra lingering in the rear, squeezing her hands together.
“Opalescence tells me you chose to come into danger,” she said, when Lyra finally had her turn. “You leapt after my sister and saw to her escape.”
She nodded weakly. “I figured you wouldn't be able to get to her,” Lyra said. “And I was there, so...”
Tabitha hugged her tight, uncharacteristic for the usually dignified girl. “You've proven yourself more than a friend to my family tonight, Miss Harper. I assure you, I will never forget this. Whatever you ask, it will be yours.”
She blushed, avoiding her eyes. Now if only she could leave out the hard parts...
Tabitha released her a few seconds later. “Of course, I shall be fascinated to hear the details, when we have more time. I imagine it must have taken considerable talent to avoid that team. But for the moment, it is enough to know she is safe.”
“She is,” Starlight said. “I made sure of it. She's in a safehouse with some friends of mine. They'll keep her where no mortal can harm her until the dust settles from this... invasion. When you have a plan for keeping her hidden from discovery, I can get them a drop-off point. I'm sure she'll have a phone again soon if she doesn't already.”
“Right.” Tabitha looked thoughtful, one hand on her belt. A pair of scissors protruded from within, covered in the delicate etching of Atlantean symbols. Her magical tool. “I may need your help with that endeavor, Reagan. There might be a handful of memories to alter.”
Reagan nodded. “Anything you need. Memories can be delicate but not impossible.”
“Did you learn anything about the ones hunting us?” Akiko asked. “The... witchfinders?”
“No, unfortunately.” Tabitha slumped into her seat at the table with the others. “They played all their cards remarkably close to the chest. All their questions were about my sister—who she knew, when she started acting strange, whether or not she had killed anyone.”
She leaned back in her seat, working her magical tool delicately in one hand. Whether she was actually casting with it, or just playing with something familiar, Lyra couldn't say. “Now that I consider it, they did have a point about my sister's behavior. She has been acting strange since summer ended. But no magic, I'm quite convinced of that. I'll take a closer look next time we're together, see if there's something I missed.”
The conversation drifted for a few minutes. First Tabitha needed to hear everything Lyra had already admitted to the others—about her girlfriend's warning, her involvement in the night's affairs. She was fortunate that Tabitha didn't hold anything against her—she had saved Isabelle's life, after all.
Would they blame Bonnie for whatever suffering her organization inflicted on the other parts of the Pentacle? She would have to wait and find out.
“I passed the message on to the rest of the council,” Akiko said. “Which means the other Orders have it now too. Not sure what the chatter is, that's not my area. We followed protocol, now we see if the others believe. Heirarch Tan did, and the council is responding. That's our duty—we can turn to more important tasks.”
“More important than our enemies sending an army of hunters against us?” Tabitha asked, indignant. “I'm not convinced there is such a thing. They tore my home to shreds looking for signs of magic. If they had any idea what they were looking for, I might not have been released.”
“Or if your parents didn't have more money than God,” Reagan muttered. “Doesn't hurt to know the governor.”
“Well, no,” Tabitha admitted, as though it were an afterthought. “But the point stands. We're obviously under attack here. Given the method, I suspect the Seers. I can't imagine anyone else with the resources and inclination to get this done.”
They all eyed Lyra then. Without a word, she knew exactly what they were thinking, even if none of them said it. “I had nothing to do with it,” Lyra said. “Scan my memories if it would help, Tabitha. Bonnie's people knew that mages were moving in Canterlot. She came back from a fight with them the same night I Awakened.”
“What do they know?” Reagan asked. “They're not stupid. Whatever they have must come together into something like a reason to try and wipe us out. Then a plan.”
She hesitated. Whenever she spoke with Bonnie about her work, there was always the same implicit promise that these secrets stayed between them. She could always confirm none of it had ever been shared. What would she say the next time?
“They don't know about different Orders. They think there's two kinds of witches, what they call 'aligned' and 'unaligned'. Their definitions are obviously wrong. Unaligned mages are us—they know we have an organization, with different levels and traditions and authority.”
“Aligned are the Seers?” Akiko suggested.
“No. They're... something I've never seen. Witches who think magic is evil, they're cursed, and who are trying to kill as many other witches as they can. Like... deranged serial killers. Those ones the hunters leave alone, but I've never even heard of one. Do people like that really exist?”
“Yes,” the others said, in perfect unison.
“Unfortunately,” Starlight finished. “They're—well, maybe we'll talk about how I got into magic some time. Not tonight, feels like we've got more important things to worry about. Do they know anything else?”
Lyra shook her head once. “Nothing definitive. They don't really know how our powers work, how many of us there are, or how to identify us. They have some machines that can find a spell if you're casting one—something to do with the brain—but as long as you aren't casting a new spell, we just show up as human. That handgun I sometimes carry, it's one of them.”
“Sure.” Reagan rose from her chair, removing another bottle from the fridge. This one wasn't water, and she flicked off the metal lid against an opener mounted to the cooler. “But why are they attacking us? Those guys know about vampires and werewolves and all the rest. Why bother with the Pentacle?”
“We don't know it's just the Pentacle,” Akiko said. “Maybe the Seers got hit just as hard. Or maybe it's the Guardians they're after, or the Mysterium. If they suspected some of the experiments I've heard about...”
Lyra shrugged. “My girlfriend talked about... people going missing. Homeless, mostly. Runaways, orphans. Then showing up later, looking half dead. Only when they brought them in, they were all the way dead. Almost thought she meant ghouls, but Bonnie knows better. We went through that whole process together.”
“I don't think it matters what motivated them,” Akiko said. “This attack is perfectly timed to make charging the key and opening the ruins as difficult as possible. Whether or not the Seers are responsible, we have to ensure they aren't successful. When the storm comes tomorrow night, we need to charge the relic.”
The result was far less an explosion of anger than Lyra might've liked. But then—she already knew this was coming. They had one test of how her friends would respond. Impossibly, they were still willing to accept Akiko's insane plan.
Only Tabitha put up much of a fight. “After what they did to me—and my family. It's clear there's no one they wouldn't target, Akiko dear. If we're discovered out in the storm, regardless of what we're doing or how visibly we invoke the Mysteries—they may bring us in and confine us. If there are enough witnesses, not even Reagan's magic could get us out.”
“We will need to make some revisions to the plan,” Akiko said. “I've had the last few hours to compare notes with the information we're hearing from the other Orders.”
She settled a binder on the table in front of them, then flicked it open. The interior held several maps of the city and surrounding area. Most notes were concentrated not in the city, as with the last version of this plan, but the surrounding mountains.
“These hunters will be limited in the same way as any human organization—constrained by infrastructure and deployment. We can capitalize on the differences between them and our own group to ensure the greatest chances of mission success.”
“That's a mouthful,” Starlight muttered. “Maybe run that by us in English? Or High Speech—either one would make more sense.”
Akiko glared up at her. “Our enemies can't send an army into the mountains. The roads are poor, and the trees will cover us from detection. But if we're low enough, we should still get a similar amount of lightning. Enough to open the key. Plus, all the wildlife will mean Lyra can have eyes on every way in and out. They'll never be able to sneak up on us. Whatever small number they send into the hills, if it's any at all, we should be able to hide from. I believe I could diffract our heat-signatures from observation with little effort. Visual confirmation should be impossible with the severity of the storm.”
“Wilderness in a storm.” Tabitha tapped her magical tool on the table a few times, just loud enough to keep Akiko from talking. “I know we lack many of the... restrictions as a large military force. But we aren't immune to the climate either. We'll be swallowed by the mud, battered by the rain, and subjected to whatever landslides or other hazards wait out there. Ritual magic may be nearly impossible in those conditions.”
“Without a powerful alchemist, I'm sure they would be,” Akiko said. “But with your talents, I'm sure we could keep the worst of it at bay. Of course we don't have to fear the lightning—all of that will go into the artifact. If something happens—we'll have to react in the moment. Our cabal is stronger than ever—we have every Path now, and even our newest member has shown herself to be incredibly capable. Lyra faced the hunters and escaped. With Reagan's magic, we could be off that peak in an instant if we had to.”
“So long as there's no ambush,” Reagan said. “I can't do vulgar magic with so many witnesses. You do not want a paradox with teleportation, not if you like keeping all of your limbs.”
Akiko flipped through to the next page. “We'll have enough warning for that. We can do this, girls. We have the time to get out there, the means—and a good reason. We can't let the Seers take this key.
“We already know what will happen to it if they get their hands on it. No one in the Pentacle will ever see it again. More of the past will be destroyed forever. Only this time, we'll be at least a little complicit, because we let them do it. We have to embrace the magic while we still can.”
Lyra groaned, folding her hands together. “And you would go out there without us if we didn't,” she said, very quietly. “No matter the danger. Wouldn't you?”
Akiko didn't have the decency to look embarrassed as she spoke. “Of course I would. Completing this labor is not optional. The degree of danger we face isn't relevant. I would go unless the odds were near certain I would be discovered and killed, and they aren't. They would be even better if you all decided to join me.”
“We will,” Reagan said, taking her hand and squeezing tight. “If you think it's that significant, then I agree. We'll go. Together. We'll win.”
One by one, the others nodded their agreement. Even Tabitha, who had seen the scope of the danger against them. If she was going—then Lyra had to agree.
I'm sorry about this, Bonnie. I hope we don't see you tomorrow.
Lyra wasn't sure how many times she'd said it. Enough times that even her familiar grew sick of listening to her, and rolled his eyes when she spoke. Considering Capper was captive in the hollow of a large tree, that was saying something. The cat sheltered there, keeping his head far back enough that he wouldn't be washed away by the downpour of rain. It helped—she knew from their shared sensations that the cat felt dry while she was totally soaked. Lucky him.
“I can. This behavior is so common from the Awakened that there's a specific word for it—Hubris. It's so easy to be on your mission, bringing light to the world, and being willing to rationalize any stupid decisions that cross your mind. Yes, we need to create this fetish from this dangerous spirit, surely none of its allies will come to save it! Yes we should venture into this ancient ruin, be damned the dangers. Yes, we should—”
“I get it,” Lyra said, exasperated. “I don't want to be here. We should be hiding in that safehouse Bonnie made, not... getting drenched.”
Their clearing high on Harmony Point had only a smattering of tiny trees, little saplings that wouldn't challenge them for the lightning they'd come to harvest. Lucky for Akiko's mission—unlucky for anyone who wanted to stay remotely dry.
It helped that most of her attention was on the many creatures living on the mountain, her mind wandering with them over fields and through rivers and sheltering in little caves. In the time since her Awakening, Lyra could now restrict her vision to only specific groups or types of creatures—in this case, anything bigger than a dog.
Their view was her view, their eyes were her eyes. At her request, they watched the mountain from every height, every side, and every angle. Nothing could approach without her hearing of it.
“I agree with your leader,” Capper said, so gently it was almost a whisper. But if it had been, she never would've heard him over the pouring rain, and the distant roll of thunder. “In this case, the danger is warranted. The risk is acceptable, given the stakes.”
Lyra's mouth hung open. In her silence, Akiko's distant voice cut across the clearing, speaking her demands of the sky. Without intense focus, the High Speech she used blended into the background, fading in and out like waves. But she didn't need to understand every word exactly to get a general impression.
Akiko was calling the storm, growing increasingly insistent with every word. When the thunder and lightning crashed down on Canterlot, most of its fury would avoid the city entirely, and instead come up here. And when it does, the Seers will know exactly where to find us.
“The Emperor's Diadem is more valuable than any individual life. The damage it might inflict, should it be taken by the usurpers and their thralls, is entirely unacceptable. You do a noble work tonight, Lyra. Better than merely attempting it, you should complete it, then survive it.”
She nodded weakly, the only coherent response she could manage. Some of that came from her split concentration, listening to the impressions of so many animals. Most was shock, total disbelief at the behavior of a creature she thought she knew. “It's okay if I don't? I thought you liked me.”
“I do.” The cat remained perched in his shelter, poised like the pet of some ancient pharaoh. And given the way he spoke, maybe he was. “But I like the universe more. Is your shield intact? Let's see that we keep both.”
She nodded absently. Of all the days to reinforce it enough to last until sunset, this was it. But she felt like being sharp with him regardless. She jostled the scales of overlapping armor on her chest, grinning slyly in his direction. “Do I even need to worry about that anymore? I've got this.”
He eyed the armor, expression unreadable. “A surprisingly useful gift from their kind. I have never known the fae to be generous. They can't help it—their nature is to insulate, conceal, and gather. They are another of the endless facets of the shattered ladder, and the gulf that now separates us from the Supernal.”
Then came the flash—thunder roared, briefly deafening her. Light came from behind, brighter than stadium spotlights. They were so bright that her life shield activated, insulating her eyes and ears from the damage.
She spun in place, expecting a crater of charred stone and baked mud where it had struck—but found nothing. Only Akiko in the center of a ritual circle, cradling the artifact in her fingers. Light now arced from it, like a piece of glowing jewelry under blacklight.
She wasn't the only one looking. Tabitha emerged from the shelter of a camouflage tent canopy, resting a heavy iron rod up on one shoulder. How she was strong enough to lift it, Lyra couldn’t tell—but she didn't seem bothered by it. Starlight slipped out of the trees, somehow dry despite the pouring rain and billowing wind.
“We good?” she asked, shouting over the rain.
Akiko didn't answer, instead repeating whatever words of power she'd been using to charge the artifact. More of the same pattern that Lyra heard from everyone, except her familiar. Some simple phrase about storing power, and being real Atlanteans, over and over again.
“I believe she anticipated far more strikes would be required!” Tabitha yelled back. “We should return our focus where it is most useful!”
Lightning flashed again, accompanied with another boom of thunder. This one felt loud enough to throw Lyra away from the clearing, rattling the air and splattering mud. She dug in her boots, and kept her footing. Barely.
When the light faded, Reagan had joined the group, moving slowly through the rain. She had a pair of sunglasses over her face, smeared with water and fogged against the chill. But even so, Lyra found herself wishing she had brought something similar. Maybe wearing those she wouldn't be getting blinded over and over.
“Akiko said she needed at least a dozen impacts!” Reagan didn't have to yell like the others did—her voice came mentally, echoing through Lyra's mind. Even so, there was something distinctly unnatural about the thoughts when Reagan sent them. Nothing like when she communicated with her familiar, which was almost an extension of herself.
Reagan's words were an obvious spell, one she could fight if she wanted to. She didn't.
“We should get to safety while she works! We'll go deaf if we stay here!”
Lyra didn't need telling twice. She returned to her tree, scooped her familiar out under her jacket, then moved far enough through the trees that they grew tall again, offering a wall of timber against the repeated barrage of noise.
The first few flashes might be coincidence, but by the tenth, their enemies were sure to notice something was wrong. No random patch of mountainside could attract so many impacts. With each one, a feeling of magical attention grew more intense, until even Lyra felt it clearly.
“That's the Seers watching us,” she whispered, not out loud. “They're doing the thing Reagan does—scrying.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “But not you. What you feel is something else—the Emperor's Diadem watches. The lightning you call rages with celestial fire, each strike captured within its pattern. It must be utterly bewildered—the world around it is fallen, the mage wielding it mumbles like a child. Yet as its vision becomes clearer, it will see there are no others. No city waits, no empress reaches to claim it. The hollow, fading world around it is all there is.”
“Akiko thinks it's a key,” Lyra muttered. “It opens some ruins somewhere, powering them. Is she wrong?”
“No. It will open almost anywhere. Yet this is not always an advisable choice—when the door opens, they will expect the Emperor’s return. Many of those who linger will not be pleased by the substitute.”
He kept going then, a long and meandering explanation of various reactions they could expect when impersonating the Emperor. But Lyra heard almost none of it—her attention was fixed elsewhere.
Not far below, at the edge of her supernatural perception, many creatures moved on the mountainside. They scampered over one another, they galloped and leapt away from danger.
As she commanded, the wisest and most discerning of the beasts ran towards her position, so she could ask about what it had seen. No matter how much her power had grown, her mastery of Mind remained nonexistent. She couldn't share its thoughts.
“Something is coming!” a deer told her, stopping beside her in the trees. She touched it's neck, massaging the anxiety and fear away as best she could. “Large, and many. Rolling this way. Metal.”
“Flee this place now,” Lyra instructed. “There will soon be battle here. Your lives should not be lost in this war.”
She knew better than to ask for more details. It was still just a doe—not a person. Despite what spending time with Capper might make her believe...
She broke into a run, reaching the clearing in a few seconds, and waving for her friends. Akiko saw, but kept her attention focused on her work. Tabitha gestured for her to join her under the tent canopy, sheltered from the worst of the water and flashes of light.
Not perfectly protected, of course. The floor was more mud than grass by now, and water whipped in at Lyra's ankles. A few other boxes of supplies were scattered in here—first aid kits, food, and camping gear they could use if it came to it.
“They're coming,” she said, urgent. “Animals feel them driving up the road. A few trucks. Don't know the exact number—deer aren't good with numbers.”
Tabitha nodded grimly. “It seems the moment has arrived. Let's see if Akiko is nearing completion of her ritual.”
As it turned out, she wasn't. The other girls gathered around the circle, just outside where they would be subjected to the terrible blasts of lightning. Lyra still kept her head mostly down, where she wouldn't get repeatedly blinded.
“She's trying to end the ritual,” Reagan explained. “But she can't. She's panicked—there are ways to accept a partly-finished spell instead of nothing at all. But she can't—the artifact is forcing her. She's terrified of what happens if she stops. It could kill her.”
Lyra's whole body tensed, expecting another dramatic blast of lightning. But none came—only Akiko's mumbled words of power, now audibly exhausted. Even without mastery of Mind, she felt a little of Akiko's fear there too. She wanted to stop, desperately—but she couldn't.
“So we teleport back to the Sanctum,” Starlight suggested. “Rip her away from the storm, and whoever's coming. How much more time do we have, Heartstrings?”
She shook her head weakly. “Hard to tell. I feel the cars now, but something's wrong. There's three trucks, and the animals see them full of people. But I barely feel anything alive in there.”
“If we teleport Akiko away, she'll get the full force of whatever that artifact can do. The ancient Atlantean key that's powerful enough to sustain a whole temple. The one that absorbed enough lightning to power a small city.” She flicked something out of her pocket—a piece of broken glass, wrapped in metal wire and covered in glyphs. Her magical tool. “We're stuck here, girls. Or we abandon Akiko to whoever's coming.”
“We should be able to see them from the ridge,” Lyra said. She gestured, and the group made their way over. Sure enough, that position gave them a clear view down at the switchback road leading up the mountain. Somehow, the road itself remained clear of mud and obstructions, letting the line of three APCs navigate together.
They weren't that far down—five hundred feet at most. Given the steep slope, the drive up would be several times as long, looping back and forth up the old access road.
“Delightful,” Tabitha said. “Guess it's a fight then. Starlight, how close do they have to be to give them a little car trouble?”
Starlight grinned. “It would be a shame for all three of them to get so unlucky. Almost like lightning striking the same place twice.” She gestured sharply through the air, almost as though swatting away an insect. Her smug smile quickly turned to horror, and she went tumbling backward, landing with a muddy splatter in the dirt.
Lyra was the first to her side, helping her into a sitting position. Smoke rose from around her body, hair now standing on end. “Maybe those odds are... worse than I thought. Those aren’t hunters.”
“Seers of the Throne,” Starlight said. “They’re here.”
Lyra crouched low to the ground, watching as the vehicles rolled to a stop opposite the thick line of trees. After Starlight's first attempt to magically stop them, none of the others tried a direct magical attack. The Seers knew how to put up a ward.
“We need to get more guns,” Lyra whispered. One hand closed around her magical tool, while the other remained empty. She steadied herself against the mud. That was mostly instinct—she had already enhanced her own reflexes to a nearly Olympian level. Even a gale wouldn't blow her over. “I would kill for a machine pistol right about now.”
The other girls were all there, crouched low behind trees and overgrown logs. Tabitha had tossed up a bank of earth to separate Akiko and her ritual from the road, so at least they wouldn't be able to see her directly. How much protection that would offer against numbers like these, she couldn't say.
Tabitha gaped at her, mouth hanging open. “A machine pistol. I thought you were a music teacher, Harper. What have you been teaching my sister all this time?”
“Not that.”
“I'll hook you up,” Reagan promised. “If we live through this, and you still want one. But firearms aren't usually our best option. Bullets are loud and stupid, they hit people who don't deserve it. And if you're caught with one, now you're looking at a legal case. Or you're crying to me to make people forget things...”
The doors banged open, and figures emerged from within. With her enhanced eyes, Lyra saw clearly even through the pouring rain. At least a dozen people in all. Most were dressed the same—dark clothes, bullet proof vests, and P90s. But there was something off about that group, something she didn't notice at first glance.
It wasn't her eyes that saw it, but her living sight. Because that mob wasn’t alive. Instead of living strength, she felt only hollow and cold from the group. A group dressed exactly like Bonnie did—no patches, just black.
“Delightful,” Tabitha said, her voice a disgusted growl. “They've brought zombies. Quite fresh, judging by the lack of decay.”
“Zombies are real?” Lyra demanded. “You sure they aren't ghouls?”
“Heavens I hope not,” Tabitha said. “We would be slaughtered. But zombies are a... crude instrument. Tools such as these turn against those with the hubris to employ them. Keep them off me a moment.”
They charged. Well, “charged” might not be quite right—they didn't have the coordination for that. They stumbled and shuffled and struggled forward, occasionally bracing themselves on trees and large rocks to keep from falling over. The group never blinked, slowed, or turned aside from their goal. Not Lyra and her group, but obviously the point concealed by a bank of earth. They were going for Akiko.
Then they started shooting. Lyra wasn't sure exactly where—but suddenly the noise became overpowering. Muzzle flashes pierced the night, joined by the crack of many weapons. Trees splintered and exploded, rocks chipped and flung dust into the air. Most were at least vaguely in their direction.
Soon enough the first of the zombies were closing, emerging through the trees in a wave. Yet Lyra's attention fixed on the vehicles, and the much smaller group that emerged from inside. Only three people, one of which wasn't walking so much as getting dragged along by a heavy cord.
But those three weren't the ones she had to worry about. Someone turned a weapon on her, despite their lifeless skin and matted hair. Her attention snapped back to her attacker, and she shoved upward with one hand, battering the weapon with the strength of a bodybuilder several times her size. It tumbled and spun through the air, launching away and into the mud.
To either side, the sound of battle exploded around her. Her friends weren't silent and lifeless—they shouted, with a mixture of spells and other techniques. A handful of zombies tumbled screaming away from them, or just tripped over each other as they went for Starlight. Tabitha remained furthest away of all, muttering quietly to herself.
Lyra's attacker turned unblinking eyes on her, then reached slowly down for something on his belt. A combat knife protruded from a holster there, within reach.
“What a waste of life. This man was living yesterday—but conflict with the Throne has shown its rewards.”
Lyra didn't even see where the cat was lurking, but it didn't matter—her familiar would keep himself safe. She had to do the same.
She jerked forward forcefully, smashing into the man's shoulder. He toppled backward, one hand still reaching vainly for his knife.
Something battered against her chest, hard enough to make her gasp with pain. Bullets sparked off her armor, or maybe it was the shield of life underneath. Either way, she felt the bruising impacts, and flung herself away on instinct. Others charged past her, intent on the unseen place where Akiko worked her ritual most intently.
They would not reach it. Tabitha drew a few sharp lines through the air with her scissors, a series of sharp cutting motions on nothing. Without a word, every nearby zombie stopped what it was doing and turned back towards the enemy.
Maybe Lyra was imagining it, but it seemed as though the zombies were almost eager to turn around. They didn't stumble over each other so much, didn't hesitate, but charged recklessly back into the forest.
Not all the undead were similarly affected—many kept coming, trying to turn their weapons against Lyra and her friends. Those were their first targets.
Until, all at once, the entire crowd collapsed, as lifelessly as animatronics with a sudden loss of power. All lost their weapons, and a few tumbled sideways off the mountain, vanishing into the gray darkness.
“That was not yours to take,” said a male voice, taunting through the night. His voice was high, almost melodious. But if his words were music, they were all out of tune. “Now I have to kill you myself, Pentacle. Bullets would have been easier.”
The earth shook, sending them tumbling backward. Lyra kept her footing better than the rest—instead of falling on her back, she caught Starlight, helping her to her feet.
In time to see the other group moving through the trees, stepping over corpses on the way.
The speaker was a stranger to her, a tall man with stark black hair and red eyes. But the others—she knew them. Tempest dragged someone along the ground, bound at the wrists and ankles by sturdy rope.
Her girlfriend was alive, unlike the zombies. Her pattern struggled, stretched to the edge of what a strong human could survive. Tempest's method didn't help, forcing her forward. Bonnie did her best to struggle over whatever obstructions were in her way, but mostly just got forced by Tempest's inhuman strength.
Lyra and her friends made it to the huge pile of dirt, where they could stand beside it for cover. But they wouldn't need it—neither of these attackers were armed.
“You could also surrender the artifact to us,” Tempest said. “We could waste the time it would take to kill you. But we've got an appointment to keep. Run for your lives, and you can keep them for a few more hours. Go.”
“You killed... all those people, didn't you?” Reagan demanded. “How can you be so callous?”
The man laughed. “Same way we'll kill you, Pentacle. Lives who stand against the Throne are forfeit. I'll take them as I've taken many others before.”
He held out one hand, fingers stretching and lengthening to blackened claws. They dribbled liquid darkness onto the ground, poisoning every green thing it touched. Lyra's stomach turned at the sight, though she forced herself not to look away. She needed no familiar to tell her what would happen if a weapon like that touched her.
“Is that refusing my offer?” Tempest asked. She stopped a few feet away, lingering by the trees. “You won't surrender?”
“Let her go!” Lyra demanded, stepping out from cover into full view of their attackers. “Right now. You can't have her.”
Tempest turned to one side, looking more confused than anything. “I believe we have our answer, Sombra. Do what you do best.”
“As though you could refuse me.” He leapt through the air, a second claw emerging from beside the first. Lyra jumped away from him, but for once even her enhanced reflexes weren't enough to easily triumph. Instead, she felt a claw brush the air inches from where she'd been. She rolled, backing further and further away. Light flashed, and Starlight screamed, but she couldn't see what happened.
“Living one thinks she knows something,” Sombra taunted, swinging at her again and again. “She errs. Life is unstable, balanced at the edge of a precipice. Breathe out, exhale. Welcome the peace of your death.”
She twisted to the side, but this time she missed a kick, driving forcefully into her shin. She tumbled into the mud in front of him, landing with a painful thump.
He advanced on her, holding one claw to her neck. “Would you like it to be slow? Let you heal it that way, until you've used every drop of stolen fire you have, and you burn your own body to do it. Watching someone scour themselves to death is delightful.”
He jerked forward—then froze. His body tensed, one claw extended, expression strained. He remained there unmoving, like a carved monument.
“You're almost done killing, Seer,” Reagan whispered. She appeared behind Lyra, one arm extended to mimic Sombra's posture. When she brought it up, his arm raised of its own accord, shaking violently with every inch. She turned upward, pointing it towards her own head. Then she shoved.
Blood exploded from behind him, and a corpse tumbled backward into the night. Black claws vanished in an eyeblink. “Now you're done.” She held out her hand for Lyra, face pale and haunted. Lyra took the offered hand anyway, following her back.
She can make someone kill themselves.
Lyra turned, searching for her girlfriend. She still didn't know what she was doing up here, why the Seers had kept her alive when they killed so many others, or why they bothered to bind her. But all those questions could be answered after they survived.
She found her sprawled in the mud beside a large boulder, tossed aside while Tempest fought with her friends. Lyra rushed over to her, ignoring the battle still raging close to Akiko's ritual circle. Spells flashed, people screamed, but for a moment Lyra barely saw it.
Lightning blinded her for a second, thunder rolling over the empty mountain. When it passed, her girlfriend was still there, struggling backward through the mud. Her body racked from shivers, clothes completely soaked in rain. Her eyes were wild, barely focused.
“You okay?” Lyra dropped down beside her, fumbling for her magical dagger. “I'll cut you out, Sweetie. One second.”
“You...” she whispered, voice distant and horrified. “Shouldn't be here. I protected you. Should be... safe...”
Lyra pulled her into a protective hug, not caring about the slime and mud. “This time it's my turn to do the protecting.”
She let go, bringing the dagger up to Bonnie's wrists. In time to see Tempest finally reach the ritual circle.
“You've all had quite enough time!” she bellowed, enraged. “Give that back!” She struck Akiko with something—more lightning? Lyra didn't see, because at that moment a terrible explosion swept over the mountain.
She didn't think, just jumped, spreading her body over Bonnie's, and pressing her down into the mud. Light and energy roared over her, sending spasms of pain through the armor and spreading a spiderweb of burns along her unprotected skin.
Her friends, though—the girls weren't so lucky. One minute they were facing Tempest, the next—they went tumbling into the air, tossed away like dolls. Even Akiko, vanishing into a sky of clouds and rain.
Something fell, hissing and steaming as it did. It smacked into the mud behind Lyra, boiling the water away on contact.
The artifact came to a stop, radiating with reflected lightning. Lyra flopped onto her back, body shaking with pain. But merciful unconsciousness never came—she was still awake as Tempest appeared from the darkness, face twisted into a sneer. “I know you, Pentacle. So good to see you again.”
“Do you know why you still stand on this mountain, and the others have been swept from off its face?” Tempest advanced through the field of the dead, surrounded by the again-lifeless zombies. She barely even seemed to glance at Bonnie, though she was still there, her wrists and ankles bound by thick cords.
She shouldn't be able to see all this magic. This disbelief should've unraveled those zombies. They still fought.
That last, strongest protection against the mages Bonnie fought had finally failed her. After battling magic for so long, she finally believed it. Just in time to get murdered.
“My armor,” Lyra said, stepping between the spellcaster and the fallen artifact. It still lay in the dirt behind her, occasionally arcing with electrical energy. If any of those reached back and hit her, they might overpower her healing and kill her instantly. Or maybe they would just throw her off the mountain like they had Akiko. “It isn't a kind of magic you could dispel. You can try all night if you want, it will still protect me.
My friends have powerful magic. They're not helpless. They survived. With the raging storm overhead, the darkness and clouds, there was no way for Lyra to know otherwise one way or the other. It would be better to believe they lived. She clung to that belief, because the alternative was to crumble into despair.
“The key thrums with power. Pick it up, and I'll explain what to do. You can end this.”
She glanced back at the key—a dozen feet away from her now. If she went for it, she might reach it—but Tempest could get to any number of fallen guns in that time. Most of them were still loaded. Changeling armor was good, but none of it covered her head. Lyra couldn't heal a gunshot after her brains got smeared onto the mountain.
Tempest laughed. She didn't go for a gun, just kept walking towards her, slow and confident. Both hands remained outstretched—empty and relaxed. Lyra knew that look well, now fresh from personal experience. Tempest already had a spell in mind, poised to cast. She was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to use it.
Like turning my back on her.
Besides, jumping for the artifact would mean looking away from Bonnie. Her girlfriend might be bound, squirming against the rope, but her eyes were still open and alert in the rain. There was recognition there, filled with a kind of pain Lyra needed no magic to describe.
“No, Pentacle. You aren't like those others—the ones who dragged you out here. I see it in that fae vestment on your shoulders, and that echo whispering into your ear. Don't you understand?”
She shook her head vigorously. For every step the woman took forward, Lyra backed up, slowly moving towards the artifact. If Tempest wanted to count on the mountain slope to throw her, she would soon see otherwise. She might not be a cat right now, but her reflexes weren't much worse. “You're surrounded by dead. You're a murderer.”
More laughter, filled with bitterness. “Please. Don't waste our time by claiming you haven't killed when you needed to. I know a killer when I see one. If you wanted to scurry off with those woodland creatures, you could have.”
She had no answer to that. Maybe there's something I can use on Bonnie. If I can get those ropes off her, she can shoot this lunatic. Would she shoot Lyra while she was at it? She hadn't last time.
“No, Pentacle. I spared you because I see what you really are. You see the world like I do—opportunities. It isn't about sides, it's about what you can take. Listen to that shade, traffic with the fae, take the blood of a vampire, what's the difference? That makes you useful.”
Shade?
She held up one hand, almost in the same position as Tempest—neutral, ready to cast. There was one difference of course—Lyra didn't have a clue what she could use to strike down such a dangerous target. But if the Seer didn't realize...
“If the Kindred tried to give me their blood again, I'd plant a willow in their heart and fill their rotten veins with its roots.” She clenched her hand into a fist. “Whatever you're trying to say, forget it. Get into your truck, and drive away from here. You go your way, I go mine.”
“Or, a counter-offer. The Pentacle is shattered. Those mortals did a fine job assisting in the hunt. Those who have not yet been captured soon will be. Canterlot will not be tainted by their presence again. You could join them, or you could make alternate arrangements.”
She held out her hand, expectant. “Give me the artifact. In exchange, I will accept you as my apprentice. We will not hold your past... association... against you. Many of us were once blinded by the Oracles’ lies, and the zombified corpse of their city. The Storm King will forgive your transgressions, and grant you new purpose. You may even meet him tonight.”
“The Oracles’ lies?” Capper poked out from around her ankles, hissing up at the mage. He didn't speak with human language, he never did—this was animal fury, deep and primal. “Pretenders lord over creation from stolen thrones, wielding scepters covered in truths they refuse to read. Creation rots under their feet, the Abyss worms into every thread of the Tapestry, and they do nothing!”
Their attacker eyed the two of them, though there was no sign of comprehension on her face. Only a general sense of anger and frustration, impatience. Lyra knew that look—this was someone running out of time. Like Akiko, she needed to work the artifact tonight. And more time for the others to get back to me. They're powerful mages, one attack isn't going to kill them.
“I will ask another way. Many with loyalty to the Pentacle have been so thoroughly inducted by their brainwashing and propaganda that logic alone will never work. I'll show you tonight where your loyalty is due: to the true lords of creation. Kneel.”
As she said it, the crushing weight of authority pressed down on Lyra. She knew this feeling—Ventus had wielded something similar. In his presence, it was almost impossible for her to disobey a command. But how could Tempest wield it? Lyra owed her nothing, and didn't drink her blood!
Her legs wobbled, her whole body shaking at the joints.
“Submit.” Tempest spoke in a higher tongue that time. Not a spell exactly, though it carried some of the same weight. Behind her, the flash of lightning formed into a figure, towering larger than all creation. A twisted outline in high robes, though her eyes saw as much inhuman as she did of human shapes. Like white fur, bestial limbs, exaggerated sharp teeth, and a wickedly pointed crown.
The shape loomed overhead, behind Tempest. “Authority. Dominion. Obedience.” She saw it—a mighty throne, a castle of onyx spires upon an impossible peak. Lightning crashed down endlessly, a storm without beginning or end, that would scour all resistance from the planet. Such a small creature as herself could only obey or be utterly erased.
Her hands moved, twisting behind her towards the artifact. Her fingers settled around it, though she never gave the command.
“Obey. Your. King.” Tempest chanted, over and over. “Authority. Dominion. Sovereignty.”
She casts like a child.
Was that Capper's thoughts, or her own memory? Either way—the connection was instant. It was exactly like Akiko's first lesson. Atlantean was an effective tool—but wielded like driving a nail with a book of priceless poetry.
She held up the artifact in both hands. Energy arced from it, scorching burns into her skin, before sloughing off the surface of her elven armor and into the ground. Without that, picking it up with her fingers might be lethal.
As it was, she still shook with agonizing pain, burning at the touch of this artifact. It might not be charged yet—but it was close.
Tempest closed one hand on it, overlapping hers. “Relinquish. Submission.”
Her fingers started to loosen.
Lyra was somewhere else. She was younger, smaller, stupider. Addicted, obedient, loyal. Even then, she could resist. Human will was not so easily broken. She looked up into Tempest's face, and the looming presence of the storm god. Lightning froze there in the sky, the outline of a malignant presence—an imposter on an ancient throne. Stolen power, stolen wisdom, stolen authority. She owed him nothing.
She might not know Tempest's spell—but she didn't have to cast like other mages if she didn't want to. “Truth does not compel,”she said, in her own Atlantean. She wasn't really talking to the Seer, even if she was the one looming over her. Another listened, from his distant throne. “Truth is its own advocate. It survives interrogation, scrutiny, and deception.”
“Obey,” Tempest chanted, louder. “Kneel before the throne. Helpless before the throne. Supplicate before the throne.”The mountainside transformed around them with every word—like a Nimbus, but overwhelmingly powerful, suppressing every sense. Stone floors replaced the mud, broken trucks and fallen zombies all vanished. A palace formed around them, with a towering throne as its centerpiece. Upon the black marble, that odious figure became increasingly real—not just an outline of energy anymore, but solid. White fur from a beard so long it cascaded over his whole body. Metal armor, streaked with blue across the breastplate. Worst of all, that crown, sharpened to bloody points.
His eyes were on Lyra—or at least the artifact in her fingers. He extended one hand, as large as a passenger van, open towards her. This king had the power to protect her, maybe to answer her questions.
Like the ladder itself, he would tear down the path behind him. Fewer would follow her, and even fewer after.
Energy arced from the artifact in her fingers. Though it was Lyra's flesh it burned, that light arced towards Tempest, then curved around her. Almost as though the artifact itself rebelled. I'm not the one she's trying to convince, she realized. If Tempest could force her, she already would have. She was just the mage standing in the way.
Lyra could bow to him. She could've bowed to Ventus too, and thrown her life against VALKYRIE like the other ghouls. She hadn't, even if it meant her life. She wouldn't start now. “Flames erupt from the great lighthouse, calling to the souls of all who see. They defy the lie, they cast off darkness. They stand, take up the lower lights. They shine without shadow. They burn without smoke. They mend where others have torn.”
When she spoke, Tempest shouted louder, trying to overpower her. She chanted the same empty words, with all the will and purpose of one who knelt before the throne. The artifact wasn't listening to her.
The dark palace vanished, replaced with a sprawling forest of vibrant trees, towering animals, and a fortress of stone. Light radiated from behind her, cast by a figure she couldn't see in an aurora of pink, purple, and green. She had seen that light before, when she signed her name.
A hoof touched her shoulder, filling her with strength. The artifact stopped burning her fingers, which settled comfortably around it. Not just an artifact anymore—this was a diadem, worn by an ancient emperor. She was not its owner—but it would yield itself to one who walked the same path. “Begone, servant of the lie,” she whispered. Not a spell exactly—but it worked like one.
Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and Tempest screamed, tumbling backward through the air. In an instant the storm had swallowed her, leaving Lyra alone on the mountain. Except, of course, for Bonnie.
Harmony Point remained transformed to Lyra's eyes. Jungle canopy towered over the rocky crags, and the mud of the long thunderstorm transformed to firm, healthy soil. Strange birds filled the air with their songs, unknown yet welcoming. The sun shone bright on her face, defiant of the pouring rain she knew must be there. No lightning flashed, no thunder rolled.
“He demanded obedience without understanding. Loyalty without love. He was always wrong.” Not Capper's voice. That was someone else, a speaker she had heard only once before, while her soul was in a strange vision. The guardian of the tower.
She was there. A magnificent white mare, with cascading mane of different shades, and a little golden crown. This one wasn't sharpened to points, waiting to put out her eyes.
Lyra held out the artifact to her, looking away. “This is yours?”she asked, in the High Speech. “I return it.”
“Not anymore,” the speaker said, voice distant and forlorn. “Not yours either, I fear. Your oath is to the wrong tower. Deliver my diadem to a friend who can wear it faithfully.”
She dissolved into mist, blown away by the storm. Rain crashed down around her, piercing the illusion in little bursts. Bonnie appeared across the clearing, struggling against her bonds in the mud.
Lyra settled the artifact around her neck by the chain, where the changeling armor insulated it from her skin. Then she ran. Her legs pierced the illusion, dissolving supernal jungles and replacing them with the familiar mountainside. By the time she reached her girlfriend, only the high trees remained overhead, and the warming touch of sunlight to replace the storm. That remained firm, in spite of the Storm King's fury.
Lyra dropped down beside her girlfriend, resting one hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Bonnie. Let me get that for you.”
“You!” Her girlfriend spat it out, face pale from the cold and twisted into vivid horror. Lyra had seen her look that way many times—whenever she returned from work covered in blood, and whispering of the dead. The way she looked around monsters. “You're one of them, Harper. Witch.” She shoved away from Lyra's hand with surprising strength. “I saw what you did. You're just like them. Get away from me!”
She lowered her knife. “I'm nothing like them. Tempest and the other monsters you were hunting—they're evil. We aren't all like that.”
“Liar!” Bonnie screamed. Her face streaked with tears, mingled freely with the rain. “All this time, you lied! How long? Every night we're together? You were using me... bleeding me for information... enchanting me.”
Lyra met her eyes, defiant. Beside her, Capper approached through the rain, taking hesitant steps. He kept his head down and said nothing—he understood enough to know not to make the situation worse. “Only to help you. To heal you, protect you. Like...”
Damn the rules. Damn human observation. She already suspected her girlfriend wouldn't disrupt the spell anymore. “The hunter stands defiant of her defeats. Bruised and bloodied by the beasts, she lays in the mud, unbroken. The heart of the world is her heart, and they beat together. She breathes deep, giving her pain to the world, and feeling it in turn. She will hunt monsters.”
The spell was almost effortless for her now—invisible, to a human observer who could not feel her nimbus. But its effects—those came instantly. Bonnie's injuries healed, and her body was rejuvenated as though she had rested all night. Any need to eat or drink was replaced with the flow of mana in her veins, at least for a little while.
Bonnie gasped. Her body shook, then she sat up in the mud, no longer slouched with pain and injury. Her words came clearly now, not slurred. Her lip wasn't broken anymore. “Your... special tea.”
She was crying too, of course. Lyra put her magical tool back down, nodding shakily. “I would've told you the truth. I wasn't lying to get information from you. I wasn't tricking you. It's just... there's this thing people have, like a... cancer, in their soul. Stops you from seeing magic. Makes it fail if you know about it, makes you forget. That's why you couldn't figure out how those monsters were fighting, and they never had the same powers. You couldn't remember them—couldn't learn. If I tried to tell you, it would've been the same way.”
Her girlfriend glanced down at the ropes binding her, then twisted her arms to either side. Fabric frayed—then split, freeing both arms. She shook them, brushing the torn fabric from her skin. “What about now? Are you saying I'll... forget? All the good men and women who died tonight, the things I saw... I couldn't forget.”
Lyra took one of Bonnie's hands with her own. That invited retaliation—a throw backwards, an arm around her throat. Her girlfriend could overpower her easily if she wanted. She could steal the knife she used as her magical tool, cut herself free, and escape. She did it anyway. “Not anymore. Your dreamless sleep is over. You see the truth with eyes unclouded. You won't forget what you saw.”
Her girlfriend shuddered, body wracked by something like a sob, quickly strangled. “Horror you couldn't imagine,” she whispered. “I thought vampires were the worst thing hunting people. I was wrong.”
“We're not like vampires,” Lyra said confidently. “They take—they're parasites, stealing life to survive. Just... try to remember. It wasn't just evil you saw up here. You saw my friends fighting against it. We risked our lives to stop Tempest. Mages aren't creatures, Sweetie. We're people, for everything that represents. Saints and sinners. From what I've seen, there are more good than bad, people trying to make the world better in whatever way they can. Not monsters.”
Bonnie nodded, slowly, expression haunted. “I saw... when you fought her. Two worlds. One that crushed, and one that was... different. Who spoke?”
“Daybreaker,” Capper said, very quietly. So quiet that his voice was barely audible over the storm. “You called for her. Shine without shadow. Burn without smoke. Two names of three. When the darkness is deepest, they bring the dawn.”
Her girlfriend turned towards him, mouth opening and closing once in her confusion and desperation. “You talk too?”
In Atlantean? Those names would never work in a fallen language, even the most gracefully expressed. But Capper somehow shared that understanding with her, so why not another? She could think of few more deserving.
“When I am so inclined. Less when I am ignored.”
“Of course he talks,” Bonnie said. But her anger was gone now, along with her betrayal. “You have been acting strange since you adopted him. He was the reason, wasn't it? Whispering lies into your ear all this time...”
“Never,” he said, lifting onto his hindlegs in indignance. “Every lie deepens the quintessence and darkens every shadow.”
“That's more or less how he talks,” Lyra said. “He’s my familiar, by the way. Let me get that rope around your—”
Something struck into Lyra with the force of an approaching automobile. It hit so hard that her whole body should've been instantly turned to jelly, and would have without her armor.
Instead of dying instantly, she tumbled backward through the air, ripped away from Bonnie with irresistible force. For a few seconds she saw only blurred stars, puddles of brown mud, and the occasional tree stump.
She tried to get together the will to cast something—but she would have better luck stopping the tide with her hands. Electricity arced through her body, disrupting her thoughts. A spell required coherence of will, a unified purpose, at least forming an Imago in her mind. She couldn't.
Then she landed. Shock passed through her, an impact painful enough to shatter bones.
“B-Bon...” she rolled onto her back, struggling against the incredible force. Her girlfriend wasn't even armed, she wasn't that strong. Besides, she was convincing her! She wasn't going to attack!
She hadn’t. Someone walked up through the mud, their body illuminated by a glow of lightning. Her fine clothes were scorched and blackened now, but that didn't even slow her down. Even the rain didn't reach her, curving around her body rather than battering her.
Tempest reached down, yanking at her necklace. “That's mine, Pentacle,” she snapped, every drop of smug confidence gone.
Lyra reached for it—but she was in too much pain to put up much of a fight.
Then the cat leapt on her face. Capper wasn't large, or very strong—but he fought like he didn't care, yowling and screeching and scratching with all four claws.
Lyra worked quickly, mending the worst of her injuries in the few seconds that Capper bought. If she could think clearly, she could fight. She only needed—
Tempest flung Capper away from her, into a patch of muddy ground. He landed with a grunt loud enough that she knew it must hurt—but that wasn't the worst of it. Tempest pointed one hand, and light arced from it, bright enough to sear Lyra's eyes. It struck the cat directly, without a shred of resistance.
He melted before her eyes, charring to a smoldering corpse in seconds. Fur blackened, flesh boiled, and a limp corpse dropped where a familiar had been.
Tempest pointed behind her with her other hand, fingers still shimmering with energy. “Give me that, or your lover dies next! See if I won't find another mortal! You can watch her die!”
Through the pouring rain, Lyra saw Bonnie, now lying on her side in the mud. Her clothes were lightly scorched, body twitching and spasming from the energy of a previous shock. But compared to Capper, Tempest obviously wasn't trying to kill her. She could shock a mortal heart enough to kill instantly, if she wanted.
Lyra lifted the artifact off her neck by the chain, then held it out. “Leave her out of this.”
Tempest took the artifact with a yank, then kicked Lyra directly in the chest. She tumbled backward, landing in the mud with a pained splash. She covered her face with both arms, preparing for whatever grisly death waited for her.
Without the artifact, there was nothing to stop Tempest from killing her, no motive to prevent her from eliminating one who had so openly defied her masters.
“You will have cause to realize the true gods of this world before the night is out,” she said. “You think you're so brave, so clever. When all your allies are dead and the Pentacle is ashes, you will come crawling to me, begging my forgiveness. Perhaps I will grant it to you. We shall see what kind of mood I'm in once the Storm King has received his property.”
She turned and stalked off into the rain. A few seconds later, someone screamed—her girlfriend, voice muffled by pain and distance. A truck door opened, then slammed, and one intact APC rumbled up the muddy road, fading from view.
Lyra lay on her back in the rain, now entirely alone. Capper's body still smoked, steam rising from the charred fur as it met the cold water.
Her friends were gone, her familiar was dead, and her own body was close to failing.
This was it—the part where she died. Even seeing supernal shores with her own eyes wasn't enough. She had still failed.
“Capper,” she whispered, voice feeble into the dark. Of course, there was no response. She could sense his life as easily as she sensed its absence.
Headlights faded into the distance, weaving side to side along a switchback road, further and further from her reach.
It was over.
Lyra lay bleeding and broken in the mud. Thunder rolled over the landscape, along with the occasional flash of lightning. Her friends were lost somewhere in that storm, her girlfriend stolen along with the artifact.
It was over.
Tempest hadn’t even killed her, though she surely could have. Burns covered her skin, raw and aching despite the changeling armor.
Maybe she could scrape together the mana to heal it and get up—but why bother? Her girlfriend was about to be sacrificed. Her friends would die, if they weren’t dead already. And Capper—he’d been the first casualty. His charred corpse still lay in the dirt, scorched black with only the occasional bit of bone peeking out from within.
Lyra clawed her way over to him through the mud, resting one hand on that charred head. If there was any trace of life left, even a straining heartbeat, it would be enough.
Her spell found nothing. No flicker of life remained, no vestige of animation clinging somewhere in his broken flesh. What lived could grow—but one step past the feeble firelight and her power could not reach. No mortal could bring life to what was dead, only the crude mockery of undeath. She would never learn that kind of magic, never inflict that condition on someone.
Lyra stumbled onto her knees, digging feverishly in the mud. She worked it slowly, opening a wide-enough gap for the corpse of her familiar.
No—familiar wasn’t the right word. Her friend had died here, so she would live. She cried, screaming her agony into the night. No one heard—not over the pounding rain and steady rumble of thunder.
How much longer until the artifact was charged? How many would die when Tempest’s master used it? Maybe she would be one of the first—she would deserve it, for her failure. At least that way she wouldn’t have to tell her friends the end of mage society was her fault.
Finally she had the opening big enough, and she lowered the cat’s body inside. Even moving reverently, the body still crumbled at the touch, barely holding together.
She managed, then started shoving in mud to cover the dead. It wasn’t easy—the earth seemed to fight her, water pouring in faster than she could replace it with soil. She worked anyway, not caring as she was smeared in the mess herself.
But that never quite happened, because the pouring rain washed it off too fast. At the rate she was going, she was far more likely to end up freezing to death in the bone-chilling cold.
Somehow, she finished her work. She slumped backward, body limp. “I wish... wish I never discovered any of this,” she whispered. “Wish I stayed asleep. Everyone would be happier. World would be... better.”
Rain poured down around her, washing slowly down the mountainside. Thunder rolled, lightning flashed. Lyra cried.
“Don’t say things like that, Lyra. Every lie feeds the abyss. Every lie dims the light.”
She turned, eyes wide with disbelief.
There was a cat beside her, sitting in the mud. She’d never seen its like before—an animal covered with spots and splotchy black lines, with huge ears and stripes on its tail.
No pet store had ever sold a creature like this—at least not legally. He didn’t seem to mind the rain and mud either, though that might be more a product of the operative will than the animal itself.
Capper’s voice was different—higher, feminine, in a way that only Lyra’s magical grasp of animals let her understand. Despite that, the personality was unchanged. Capper’s accent, his choice of words, the way he looked up at her, somehow both wise and pathetic in the rain.
Lyra snatched the cat into her arms, pulling him against her chest in a tight embrace. “You’re alive! How? Tempest said—”
“Tempest works for a liar,” he answered. “Her master is the enemy of truth. Can’t let too much truth into the phenomenal, or people might start opening their eyes. How would his kind keep their power then? How would they stay in control?”
Lyra held on for a few seconds more, before slackening her grip on the cat. Enough that she wouldn’t strangle him, and he could poke out of her arms to look at her. “You went to the Spirit World,” she suggested. “Found your way back, got a new host.”
His head twisted to one side. “Close enough. You need to heal, Lyra. You’re badly hurt—you’re going to die of exposure.”
“No... mana left,” she whispered. Lyra slumped back into the mud, staring down at the feline in her lap. “She took everything, Capper. Even Bonnie.”
The cat turned, nuzzling up against her chest. “Take mine.”
It felt a little like someone had jammed an automobile jump starter on her heart. Power flooded her, mana saturating her pattern in seconds. Whatever capacity she had to hold it was instantly filled, until tass leaked out her pores as faintly glowing sweat, dribbling down her nose and washing away in the rain. “Why?”
She wasn’t even sure where the question came from. There were probably more important things—but that seemed to matter more. “Why come back? Why help me?”
“Truth is more precious than thaumium,” he said. “Rarer than tass. More sacred than the perfected Rotes of the high city. If the Archigenitor claims the key, he will use it to write a hundred new lies into the world. Fewer will stir, or hear the Oracles whispering to their souls. Lights will be extinguished, and no new ones will take their place.”
She shook her head weakly. It no longer mattered if she exactly understood the strange things her familiar said. A dark underlying truth remained.
“She took my girlfriend—she’s going to die! But I tried to fight her, and the only reason I’m still alive is because she wanted me to see my failure. If I could teleport right up to the peak, she would still blast me with lightning the same as last time. Unless she lets me take Bonnie’s place...”
“No!” Capper hopped down off her lap onto the mud beside her. “Listen to me, child. It does not matter if the Seers wield greater power than yours. They don’t know the sound of truth—their masters teach them half-truths and false mysteries.”
She wiped away the tears, fought back the rain. But her body was failing now. If Lyra didn’t do something soon, she would collapse, and might not wake up. Soon she wouldn’t have the strength left to form an Imago. “What does that mean, Capper?”
“The Exarchs don’t want slaves to grow strong enough to challenge their will. Their servants struggle constantly against each other, vying for position and control. No ministry is unified, even with the usurpers they worship. They’re always fracturing, devouring themselves, unraveling.
“Your Pentacle is different, Lyra. You stand in the wreckage of a greater age—and you build anyway. Your teachers give you the mysteries free from deception. Your friends aren’t trying to use you to feed their ambition—they’ll risk their lives to protect you, just like you did for them. No lie casts a shadow dark enough to swallow the truth. Creation itself recoils at the unraveled threads they leave in their wake. You can bind them.”
My friends. They weren’t dead yet—she couldn’t believe that. Akiko and Reagan and the rest all knew the mysteries much better than she did. They would’ve survived the storm, no matter how fiercely it raged. All she had to do was find them.
“You really think we can... Can I save her?”
Capper met her eyes, and Lyra no longer saw an animal. She saw an ancient face, creased with lines, hair bleached whiter than the snow on the tallest mountain peak and eyes of silver. “In every tyrant’s heart there springs this poison, that he cannot trust a friend. But you can.”
Lyra drew her hand through the air, drawing the mudras she had learned in diligent study with the Free Council. But the words she spoke—those came from Capper. “The great forest is sick. A rot infests its roots, and strangling fungus snakes across its branches. Then comes the cleansing fire—and in its wake, fresh cones sprout. Saplings reach upward for the sun, and birds make new nests in their branches. Listen to their joy.”
Thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and Heartstrings stood up. Old skin flaked away under her armor, sloughing off like the peeling remnants of a sunburn.
Her friends were on that mountain somewhere. All she had to do was reach far enough, and she would find them—there! Four humans, struggling against the elements. Without her strength, they might not make it!
Her magic couldn’t reach them from such a distance, but she could. Lyra scooped her fallen knife from the ground, broken and chipped. She wiped away the mud with one finger, feeling at the markings there.
“To live is to grow.”The blade itself was broken and useless, but that didn’t matter. The truth it carried remained.
“What could run fast enough to reach them? A deer?”
“No,” her familiar said. “You need to fly. But no true bird could fight this deluge—you need something stronger. You will retain your form, but wielding the flight of the mightiest eagle. When you see it, I will give you the words.”
She was past arguing now, past thinking of what could or couldn’t be done. She saw herself with a pair of mighty wings, the muscles required to move them, the other changes to her body to be light enough to fly, while still strong enough to weather the storm and buffeting winds. She wove them together, as seamlessly as the melody of a new song.
Then she sang the words, drawing them into the world with the slow strokes of her blade, weaving through her own pattern as deftly as she repaired it.
“From the loftiest heaven descend the servants of what was. Outcasts, fleeing the terror that conquered their mansions. Beautiful upon the mountains are their feet. Mighty are their voices. Fierce will be their judgment on that great and dreadful day.”
Lyra shook as the spell took her. She screamed with pain as her back split, and new organs burst from beneath, covered with a blanket of sleek feathers. Her unearthly armor parted for them, opening as though it had always been tailored for a wearer like her.
As they grew, her balance shifted, weight redistributed as bones turned hollow and her body slimmed, becoming lithe and graceful. Even her hair got longer, cascading down her back in a curtain of greens.
Finally the spell was finished. Her wings opened, filled with the strength from mighty muscles. “I... did it!”
The cat lifted onto his hind legs, reaching towards her. “Pick me up! I’m not running up the mountain after you.”
She did, scooping his small, soggy weight into her arms.
Lyra broke into a run, boots pounding along the mud. Her wings opened wide, spreading far to either side. They beat with new instincts, guided by new purpose.
She leapt into the air, and ascended, lifting over the trees, rocketing up the mountain.
“I can fly!”
“In secret. Try this anywhere people can see you, and you’ll tumble out of the air like a rock! But out here, in the dark—yes! Keep low to the trees, we don’t want Tempest to see you! Find your friends!”
She could do that. Together, they would reach the peak, and stop Tempest’s dark ritual.
The Exarchs couldn’t have the key, and they couldn’t have Bonnie. Lyra wouldn’t let them.
She didn't have far to fly before she saw the first flutters of motion underneath. Lyra blinked, focusing her attention on a single patch of forest distinct from the others. Not just movement, but purpose. She felt the order that came from sapient creatures, imposed on a world that did not always welcome their intrusion.
Someone was alive on this mountain. It could be almost anyone, if they weren't in the middle of an awful storm after all the roads and highways out of Canterlot were totally locked down.
As if that wasn't guide enough, she felt the faint light of spells another second later, though she couldn't tell exactly which. But she didn't have to know—her enemy had gone to the peak, but this wasn't the peak.
She dropped into a dive, wrapping her arms more tightly around her familiar. The night had shown her Capper could return even if his cat body died. But somehow she got the feeling the process cost him dearly. The last thing she needed was to risk losing him a second time.
“Bring them quickly. These Seers are unusually willing to risk paradox. She may decide to teleport up the mountain instead of driving.”
And even if Tempest drove most of the way, how much longer did Lyra have? Their battle happened the better part of halfway up the mountain.
She flared both wings as she passed through the trees, arresting her flight as best she could. Then she hit the mud, scattering it in all directions. If she hadn't already abandoned all hope of staying remotely clean...
A small group of people waited under the trees, huddled around the light of a small fire. Except that this one burned without apparent fuel, and remained vibrant despite the piercing wind and battering rain.
One by one, Lyra's cabal looked up. They were all here—Akiko with the skin of her hands blackened and scorched, Starlight with little twigs stuck in her skin, Tabitha looking intact but miserable. Then there was Reagan, resting one arm around Akiko and occasionally squeezing her shoulder gently for reassurance.
“Lyra.” Starlight looked her over, from her face to the powerful wings emerging from her shoulders, then the armor. She alone seemed to see it clearly. “You're alive?”
She lowered both arms, helping Capper out onto the muddy ground. This new cat didn't seem to mind the dirt and the storm, at least not like the black one had. He was a wilder breed, used to weathering the storm. He circled around the group, sniffing at each of them in turn, but always remaining out of reach.
“Still growing,” Lyra said. She opened one wing awkwardly, then the other. “Growing kinda... nervous to throw so much magic around, right now. But it was that or let Tempest walk away with the diadem.”
There were other concerns, of course. Her living sight showed her what she needed to know about their health—but she could just as easily have guessed it given how ragged they all looked. They were barely alive, crushed by the weight of physical and spiritual exhaustion alike.
“Diadem?” Akiko asked. When she moved, bits of burned hair flaked away from her head. “What are you talking about?”
“That thing you were charging—the Emperor's Diadem. Tempest has it, and I think she plans on killing my girlfriend to finish powering it. Needs a sleepwalker offering, that's why she was still alive.”
Lyra stopped beside the fire, then pulled out her broken magical tool. “Not sure how much mana I have left. But I should be able to get everyone back on their feet. Just means I won't have much juice left for when we get up there.”
“When we get up there,” Tabitha repeated. “Harper, I don't think there will be a when. We're defeated. It's as plain as the rain or the lightning. Tempest is too strong.”
Lyra ignored the protest for now, instead tracing her knife through the air. As she did, she raised her voice instead of lowering it, speaking the Atlantean with confidence. “The mighty warriors stumble in their pursuit, collapsing to the stone. The hooves of their enemy retreated into the night, fading far into the distance. The earth beneath them refused to yield. Its strength became theirs, returned in kindness for every night they had suffered to protect it. Pain fled them, nightmares faded, and the broken thing became new. They would not surrender yet.”
She spoke it, and it was so. Bloody twigs tumbled out of Starlight's arms. Akiko's skin turned pale again, burned sections peeling away in scarred sheets. Even her hair returned, though only on one side. That was about when Lyra's mana ran out.
That would leave their bruises behind, it would leave their minor scrapes and bumps. But compared to the way she found them, her friends might as well be new people.
“I could... do more, but I don’t think I should.” She straightened, then circled once around the nervous group. These girls were battered bloody—a fight like that had taken its toll on them.
Poor Reagan looked the worst, her eyes haunted and unfocused. No matter how cold she seemed in the moment, taking life was never easy. In a strange way, she found that detail comforting. Killing with magic like that was a monstrous thing, but Reagan was no monster. Yet.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Starlight said. She brushed herself off, and wasn’t sagging anymore. But her eyes were still downcast. “I’m out of juice, out of luck, and the future isn’t speaking to me right now. We can’t go up there.”
Tabitha nodded her agreement. “We’re thrilled to see you, Lyra. Now we can flee this mountain knowing that none from our cabal were killed in this awful mess.”
Lyra looked around the fire, and saw similar pain on every face. These girls all wanted to give up, even Akiko. The words of her healing spell might fix their patterns, but they couldn’t change the minds of her friends. Even if she somehow wielded that power, she could never use it.
“Akiko—listen. If Tempest gives the artifact to her king, he’ll use it to wipe out the Pentacle here in Canterlot—maybe much further, I don’t know. What hunters did trying to track us down will feel like a joke. I don’t know how many they found—but the Usurpers won’t miss any, including us. If we leave, it’s just to die somewhere else. And...” She lowered her voice then, no longer looking so brave. “She’s gonna kill my girlfriend in the ritual. I don’t know why, but it seemed important. Even when she realized who her captive was, Tempest didn’t hurt her to get to me. She needs Bonnie.”
There was a long, painful silence then, broken only by the occasional rumble of thunder, and the crackle of wood in the circle.
It was Akiko who stepped forward in the end, resting one hand on her shoulder. “That word you used... it’s Atlantean. I’ve seen it in some ancient texts, but never heard the translation before. What does it mean?”
After all that, and you’re interested in a silly word? Lyra resisted her anger, though. Her friend wouldn’t be the same girl if she thought any differently. “It means...” She glanced to the side, where Capper trailed beside her leg. “How would you explain it?”
“Betrayal that came from deep within the high court. Those who knew no thrones would ever wait for them. Those who would slay the great dragon and climb to heaven on his back. The word you use—Exarch—gives them glory they do not deserve. They are usurpers.”
“The Exarchs,” Lyra said in English. “How Atlanteans thought about them.”
“The odds are looking a little better,” Starlight said. “There’s only Tempest up there, she must be as spent as us. No zombies, no help.”
“Spent as the rest of you,” Akiko said. She drew something from her jacket, a rod of metal wrapped in wire. The tool caught the light and began to glow, with a radiance of no earthly matter. Akiko’s magical tool was something else. “I didn’t cast anything, remember? If I hadn’t been in that ritual circle...”
Her other hand closed into a fist. “The Emperor’s Diadem, you called it? It would be quite the shame for a mage like Tempest to get her hands on it. All power, no discipline. Given new information about the artifact, I say we go. Any disagreement?”
It was far from unanimous, at least in their faces. But no one argued the point. One by one, they joined Lyra and Akiko by the fire.
Your friends aren’t trying to use you to feed their ambition—they’ll risk their lives to protect you, just like you did for them. No lie casts a shadow dark enough to swallow the truth.
“Can you send us to the top, Reagan?” Akiko asked. “One last jump?”
She looked like Akiko had asked her to take them all the way to Atlantis. “With a portal, maybe. But that would be too slow. I think maybe... two, neither of which is me. I’ll be wrung out like a sponge after this, barely thinking straight.
“Me, obviously,” Akiko began. “And Lyra...”
“No.” Lyra stepped back, opening both wings to full size. “I can get up there. If we only get two, send someone else.”
“Me,” Starlight said. “Time doesn’t always work right around the Seers—but I doubt Tempest will be hiding her future very well if she’s activating an artifact. Could be an edge.”
“And I will secure our safe egress,” Tabitha said. “When you’re inevitably victorious, of course. I’ll have something up to you by dawn. Deal with the Seer by then, if you would.”
Lyra couldn’t stick around to listen any longer. Without the teleport, she had a mountain to climb—the old-fashioned way. She scooped her familiar up into her arms, then moved to her friends one last time. “See you up there.”
They watched her go. She was probably imagining things, but Lyra saw awe on their faces.
“We will have some difficulty when this is over,” her familiar said. He spoke directly into her mind, otherwise she never could’ve heard him over the constant roar of air and occasional thunder of the storm.
“Why?” She kept her attention on flying, staying just above the trees as she ascended. Not just because of the lightning—but if Tempest saw her, she would make for a defenseless target. She couldn’t save the world if she was dead.
“The Obrimos—I’ve seen that look before. She’s a mage who will not stop digging once she has the smell of mystery on her nose. If she probes too close, I will need to leave you.”
That got her attention. Lyra tensed, drooping in her flight. She fell enough that her toes brushed against the treetops before she realized what she was doing, and accelerated upward again.
“No! You can’t leave! We’re...”
She trailed off. Not just from the exertion, but the obvious absurdity of it. Was she still pretending she thought Capper was just a familiar?
“I am not finished instructing you, young mage,” the cat said. “I suggest you find a way to distract her. You could lie, but others in your cabal will know, even if Akiko does not. You will drive a wedge between those who should be your closest allies.”
She could only hope she lived long enough to worry about solving that problem.
Lyra didn’t know exactly where Tempest would be conducting her ritual. The weather didn’t make it easy to find out, with clouds gathering around the peak. But however dark it looked, no clouds could hide the explosions of magic coming from inside.
Lyra accelerated, no longer caring if that got her seen. Her lungs burned, and muscles that she had never before experienced were now aching with the incredible effort. She flew on anyway, with the same kind of willpower she might use during a run. Every spell she had prepared to increase that strength and endurance now aided her here, lifting her as high as any eagle.
