I awoke in a sweat beneath cold light streaming through a framed picture window set into the wall beside me. It was flanked by heavy gold curtains on either side, but they had apparently not been pulled during the night. I struggled to remember where I was; it was a bed for certain, and likely a bedroom, but how had I gotten here? As I struggled into an upright position I surveyed my surroundings; it was indeed a four poster bed, the sheets made of soft green satin and presently drenched with my sweat.

“I don’t like it here,” Calliope muttered. Sheena gave her a cursory glance and then continued her walk through the streets, brushing past several lanky looking men, all dressed in tattered coats and button-downs, their faces caked with dust and grime.

“On this street?” Sheena decided, for once, to indulge the girl’s nonsensical rantings and immediately felt a tinge of regret as she awaited what would probably follow as a barrage of complaints about their present situation.

“This…this place. I want to go home, these people are….”

“Sheena, come in please,” High Lady Jenwise motioned to Sheena who had already entered the office. She stood there, her expression grim and her face pale as she once again stood before the picture windows that framed the city of Auglire in their own regal fashion. Her footsteps made the smallest of padding sounds as she passed the rows of bookshelves to either side of her and stood before the High Lady’s desk. Jenwise observed her from the other side, seated in her high-backed green chair, hands folded before her on the mahogany surface.

I was expecting to land on something soft. Maybe an awning, a pile of refuse, a puddle of water, anything,. That was how it worked, right? In stories, the hero would face certain death and then find themselves saved just in the nick of time by mysterious circumstance. I was no hero. Instead my body hit solid ground. Rough round cobblestones greeted my body; the shock came first, then the pain, then the garbled, muted scream that barely escaped my lips through a crushed windpipe. Rib cage shattered, left arm twisted and malformed, knee caps cracked.

“I appreciate the…offer,” Jen shifted uncomfortably in front of Sheena’s desk. “But…First Girl I…I don’t think this is the job for me.”

“I disagree, Jenise”, Sheena said, placing emphasis on the last quarter of Jen’s name. She grinned inwardly as Jen grimaced at the use of her full name. “You have shown great proficiency in your position, and to put it all forward, my dear, you cannot spend the entirety of your service career scrubbing…shit. ‘Tis a new word I learned. Shit. Does it suit me?”

2 Years Ago

38 Years Before the Fall of Hybra

Birds chirped overhead and a soft wind creeped through the gazebo as Sheena ran her finger about the rim of her teacup. She studied the piping hot liquid within for just a moment before dropping a white sugar cube, watching it plop and create a ripple, then returned her attention to her parents seated across from her. Martin was dressed in unusually pleasant attire; a green vest atop a white collarless shirt buttoned to the top. Mother, as per usual wore a high-necked green gown with puffed sleeves, her own teacup held in front of her with both hands. 

Part 3

The Meaning of Family

“Please, Marcella, just let me do something, anything!” I begged the red-haired girl who stood at the prep station, pressing a wooden roller into a piece of dough. She glanced up at me, amused.

“Lyra,” She laughed. “You’re no longer a servant. I cannot allow you to do anything.”

“I could do the dishes!” I gestured toward the wash basin, a black-haired servant girl looked up at me, her hands elbow-deep in suds. “Or…or…I could cut vegetables! Please! I’m so bored!”

The sky over the plains of Graorhiel had shifted from the golden red of dusk to a deep blood red accented by the rising of smoke and the towering flames dotting the battlefield. It was hot here, unbearably hot. Lord Radon wiped perspiration from his forehead with a gloved hand, then placed his right hand on his sword hilt as he surveyed the field. All around him, flesh and blood soldiers lay in the mud, grievous wounds across their bodies.

The courtyard was alight with the radiance of hundreds of paper lanterns strung above, set against a matte painted black sky. Beneath the twinkling lights of the Beltane sky, and by the light of glowing paper lanterns, people robed in white laughed and danced; twirling, spinning, their hair flowing free as if they hadn’t a care in the world. From my spot a fair distance away, I watched Sheena twirl in succession with Elric, executing a complex series of moves that they made seem simple amongst a sea of other dancers doing the same or worse.

The question that plagues us regarding the existence of alternate realities, is whether or not they would all develop similarly to us. Would the inhabitants of such a reality be human? Would they walk on two legs? What would they love? How would they love? If the Goddess existed in their reality, what would her nature be? These are all burning questions which unfortunately cannot be answered. More importantly, if the Mah'Kur came from another reality, then in whose image were they created?

-From the Study of Temporal Phenomenon, Page 221

Sheena strolled quietly through the bustling halls, hoping that she could at least find somewhere to think; somewhere other than that musty waiting room. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but for that first hour she had found herself feeling helpless, knowing that her sister was on the other side of the door in the hands of someone else.

“Sheena,” Kayla called out, trotting over to her. “Are you well?”

An attempt to re-create the Stormveil in a controlled laboratory environment resulted in abject failure twelve years and six months ago. It was found that by using crystals recovered from a crashed Mah’Kur vessel, we could approximate the Stormveil to a certain extent, but the laboratory was decimated. Furthermore, Doctor Cornelius Abraham, the proctor of the experiment promptly vanished, only to return in the same spot ten years hence, having not aged a day. 

-On the Nature of the Stormveil ‘Page 9826, Volume Eighteen’

Fadraiye, as a continent, was generally devoid of magic save for the use of certain gems. The appearance of The Stormveil made it evident to scholars that there was far more to our world than we realized. 

-Lord Absalom Sydney Featherstone

Part 2
Fen and Fern

“Your concern over the Lyra situation is unfounded; yes, her movement is limited and her education is tightly controlled, but she lives in a gilded cage crafted by the misdeeds of Micah Lavoric. In truth, the girl should count herself among the fortunate that she still draws breath.

-From the Desk of Lady Carola Jenwise, Duchess of Klocby

“I would say it’s about enough, wouldn’t it be?” Sophia eyed me as I did a nervous twirl for Jen. I had traded the servant gray for a light green dress that was still plain, but lacked the apron and felt much lighter. The skirt draped around my legs and teased them gently as it fell back into place. I smiled widely and heard Jen giggle. Miah and Sophia had insisted on outfitting me, ever since I had officially become one of them. Since my title of nobility had become forfeit and it was clear that I would never leave.