If it had been cold in the High Lady’s office chambers, it was a level just above damnation here. The room was fairly dark with a concrete floor and stone walls laden with two glow-lamps on each. Their light barely pierced the veil of darkness in front of me, and for the most part they revealed only wet stone that preceded the sound of dripping caused by Sheena’s efforts to ‘cleanse’ me. She stood there just at the edge of the darkness in the company of another servant girl named Kayla. They both held dented tin buckets in their hands, now empty of the cleaning solution they had devised from ingredients found in a wooden cupboard just outside.

“Are you certain we can do this?” Kayla asked her, as I stood there naked, my arms crossed over my chest in a vain attempt to thwart the cold that was working its way into my very bones.

“By the High Lady’s leave,” Sheena assured her. “And, at the request of the former Master Lavoric. Tell me, Master Lavoric, what name would you choose for yourself now that you have been stripped of title and livelihood?”

“Name?” I said through chattering teeth; it took everything within me not to charge for the exit, toward the warmth of the next room.

“You have chosen to live your life a servant girl, have you not? Surely you cannot be Micah Lavoric, Heir to the Throne of Axock. Or perhaps we should name you?” The words came from the girl beside her, Kayla. I looked from one to the other; the solution clung to my skin, presumably ridding me of any impurities that I might have carried into the manse with me. Lice, was apparently of their chief concern.

“I would name her cupcake, perhaps,” Sheena suggested and then barely stifled a laugh. “Come servant girl, you made your choice, now make another. By what shall we call you?”

“Perhaps we should call her Little Brat,” Kayla offered up another suggestion. “She thinks herself too good to speak to us.”

I opened my mouth to speak but the very breath was stolen from my body as a splash of freezing cold water washed over me, a strained gasp escaped my lips as I stumbled backward and sprawled across the stone floor. There was no reprieve; a second bucket was launched and another wave of water bathed me, causing me to lose what remained of my balance and sent me crashing to the floor as I made vain efforts to restore myself to breath.

“I will say that this does not seem impromptu,” Sheena stepped from the darkness and stood over me. If she’d seemed confident in the High Lady’s office, she now seemed like the personification of the Goddess herself. “The hair is of length, the body is free of blemishes, smooth shaven. This one considered herself female long before she came here.”

“I would honor such forethought,” Kayla stepped forward as well.

“Regrettably,” Sheena said, looking down at me. “our charge is not to torment, but to instruct. Rise girl, and speak your name. I will not ask again.”

I was somehow exhausted, but that could be explained by my long journey from Axock, the confrontation with the High Lady Jenwise, and of course the rigorous decontamination process that Sheena and Kayla had subjected me to. My body was raw from the bristles of rough brushes, and my skin burned from the solution they had tossed on me, even as the last remnants of it crept from my body and made haste toward the drain at the center of the chamber. Defying the throbbing of my muscles and deep exhaustion of the mind, I forced myself to my feet and stood before the two girls. Sheena was my height, but Kayla stood perhaps two inches beneath me. Still, both still exuded their authority in this space and it was more clear than ever before that mine had been stripped from me.

“Your name,” She said insistently. “You must have one in mind. You’ve grown your hair in an almost feminine fashion, you have clean shaven your body, and you have made this unorthodox request of the Lady. Clearly this was your intention from the start. Speak your name.”

“My name,” I said in a rhaspy voice as I tried to overcome the cold. “My name is Lyra.”

“Then, Lyra,” Kayla smiled. “Let us not tarry in the cold, come.”

“The High Lady Jenwise demands and expects that all of her staff would be presentable,” Sheena said as she led me down a well-lit hallway. She opened a door and waved me in where I found what looked like rows of narrow lockers lining the walls and down the center. Each wooden enclosure was doorless and comprised of a thin lattice, forming an upright cubby perhaps three feet in height. Most of the cubbies were occupied by hanging clothes, dresses pressed tight together to make the most use of the waning space they were afforded. “much, I presume, as you expected the staff at your Lavoric Manor to be.”

I couldn’t disagree with that. With Sheena in front and Kayla behind, we walked past several rows of cubbies until we reached one near the back.

“This one is unoccupied,” Kayla observed as she left us and passed through a door a door at the back of the room. She returned with a bundle of clothing; the standard gray worker dresses that were worn by servant girls throughout Fadraiye. It occurred to me that Kayla was also dressed in gray, and that Sheena’s black and white uniform was reminiscent of an authority position among the servants. “You will dress in a manner befitting your station.”

I was mostly dry now, and the cold had subsided; the inside of this dressing room was moderate at the very least. Still, even though I was comfortable I couldn’t help but look at the bundle of clothing in disdain. I had asked to be the Lady’s cup bearer - a respectable position, even if a little low for my station, and she’d relegated me to be a common servant. Worse yet, I had let her! Scenario after fantastical scenario rushed through my head in the same vein as the water that had washed over me in the decontamination chamber. What if I had argued? What if I had strove to convince her otherwise? Why did I simply let her dictate that my life would take such a ridiculous course and what recourse did I have now? I took the dress from Kayla’s arms and the two of them watched as I pulled it over my head. I winced at the snugness in the waist area, and stood there devoid of any dignity as she straightened out the lapel and tied it in the back.

“Shoes,” Sheena handed me a pair of cloth shoes. I took them and turned them over in my hands. There was a disappointing quality about them; they were not sturdy and they certainly were not made for running. They came to a point at the toe and pressed mine together when I pulled them on. I could only wince at the pain that continued to manifest as I practiced walking in them. The shoe was a little snug in the back, and each step pressed my toes further together.

“They’re tight,” I looked at her, hoping for some sympathy.

“That would be how they stay on,” She said coldly. “We will discuss your tasks today in part, though the hour is growing late, and you will sleep before the light fades. Our day begins early tomorrow.”

I didn’t like the idea of rising early, but the fact that I would sleep soon, that thrilled me. Exhaustion had rocked my body more than once since I’d been led from the Lady Jenwise’s chambers and down the narrow staircase that eventually led to the decontamination chamber. I had dreaded every step into the darkness with only dim glow bulbs to guide us. Every stride was a measure further from my previous life and title, time that stretched out and away from the damning decision that I had made. If but I could go back and make a different proposition! But, as I stood there in the gray dress of a servant girl, with Sheena and Kayla inspecting me, I knew that I had made my mistake and that there was no correcting it.

“Now I must ask you a pressing question, Lyra,” Sheena stepped back from me and looked into my eyes with what I almost perceived as concern. “Are you afraid?”

“What?” I frowned in confusion. What was she asking me?

“You find yourself in a perilous situation and while it is not unique to you, the uncertainty can be overwhelming, so answer me this. Are you afraid, Lyra?”

“Yes,” I answered truthfully.

“Then,” Sheena said. “it is my duty, as the first among the servants of the House of Jenwise, that you needn’t be. Your fear is justified but unfounded. The days ahead of you will be difficult, and the need to prove you worth will loom as a daunting shadow, but for so long as you are in my charge, my protection extends to you, as it does to the other girls in the service of the High Lady. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I…I think so,” I frowned again. What was she saying this? Wasn’t I beneath her? Why would she care about me?

“Permit your mind to ease, servant girl, and follow me.”

I followed her from the room, through the back door with Kayla following closely behind. My heart nearly tore from my chest in the panic I experienced as we passed into a room filled with beds stacked atop one another. Bunks, of course, we had them in the soldier’s barracks back home. There were at least one hundred bunks in this vast space, and there were other girls, most dressed in the same gray uniform, and others in their undergarments walking to and fro. For such a highly occupied space, it was fairly quiet, with only the sound of muttering here and there. All in all, the conversation within the room could have been described as a dull hum. My heart began to beat quickly and my body tensed as one by one, the conversations stopped and the girls began to stare at me. I felt as if I were on display as Sheena led me through the room, every eye upon me, casting judgement before I even spoke. Did they recognize me? No, probably not; it was doubtful that anyone would recognize a noble out of context, even if I was no longer a noble. Some of the girls we passed looked stunned, others looked annoyed. A few were downright uninterested. At some point, my shock at the situation transformed into shock at just how many servants there were. But then, of course there were. The care of the Lavoric estate, my home, had called for the attention of nearly four hundred servants but I had never met them all; to me they had been but numbers in a ledger. But these were not numbers, these girls were real and while I wanted to despise them for being of a lower class, I was now among them and I had allowed it. I had allowed it!

“I call you to attention!” Sheena shouted, bringing the room to absolute silence. “And I call you to heed my words as though they were the words of the High Lady herself, for it is on her behalf that I speak to you! I give you, Lyra, a servant of the house of Jenwise. Despite her male status, she has made the choice, and the explicit request to be considered a servant girl within the House of Jenwise. You will treat her as you would any other servant girl as befitting of her station. Discussion of her former male status will not be tolerated! Gossip does not become us! These are my words and they will be heeded! Lyra, my word is given that you will be treated as, and regarded as any other girl here so long as you act within that role. Step outside of it, and punishment will be swift. The path you have chosen will be difficult, but you did choose it, and you will be reminded of that, should you forget. Am I understood, Lyra?”

“Yes,” I said, practically choking on the words.

“I am the First Girl of House Jenwise, you will address me as such,” She told me firmly.

“Yes…first girl,” I said reluctantly. Sheena nodded and walked away. Kayla led me to an empty bunk where a small foot locker sat at the end.

“Change into your bed clothes,” She instructed me. “Do what needs to be done before you sleep, and remember, we meet the morning swiftly.”

As I laid there in bed swaddled by a stiff, scratchy blanket in an unfamiliar environment, pitch black as the glow-globes were extinguished, I thought of my father. Somewhere, far off in Axock he would be taking his evening brandy, and he would be reviewing troop movement reports. He would be holding meetings with the occasional advisor, and he would be speaking with his general. He would be preparing for bed, and in the morning, when he rose, he would conduct official business with my older sister, Robin alongside him. Though I had made a mistake, he would be anticipating my return - the return of his son. But, what was left of his son now?

There was nothing in the whole of Faidyre that could have prepared me for the following morning. In my life I had undertaken difficult tasks, from military training, to the art of swordsmanship, but it was, perhaps, that I had never labored as the common man, or woman. The previous day with its travel and with its introductions to my new life had taken their toll both mentally and physically, so much so that when the glow-globes were lit overhead and the girls around me began to rise from their bunks, I barely managed to tilt myself into an upright position and set myself on the edge of the straw-stuffed mattress. Other girls were making their way to the showers, or at least I presumed. Some were engaging in idle conversation, and some were even exercising. I sat there, inert, not even willing my body to move as I stared off into the room, a mass of white-clothed bodies rushing to and fro.

“You reek,” A voice said to me suddenly. I somehow managed to tilt my head upright and saw pale-faced blonde girl standing over me. She was so pale in fact, that she may as well have been a piece of bleached parchment. If one were to take a glow-globe to her, she might just amplify the light a thousand times over. Apart from that she was thin, far smaller than Sheena, maybe more so than Kayla. Still, I found myself completely intimidated.

“I’m sorry?” I offered the only response that I could think of and she shook her head while curling the right side of her mouth in a barely averted expression of amusement.

“You are drenched, from head to foot,” She informed me. “and you cried out, during the night, this is sweat, yes?”

I inspected myself, raising my arms and sniffing beneath them.

“Yes,” I said groggily.

“Except for that,” She pointed to a glaring yellow stain on the mattress beside me. My face went red in contrast. “You should be nice to the linen girls, they’ll have it out for you now.”

“Does anyone else smell that?” A red-headed girl nearby pinched her nose and another followed suit. I contemplated burying myself in the blankets and hoping that they would go away. Or that I would.

“Come, come,” The blonde girl said urgently. She reached downward and snatched my hand, practically dragging me from the bed, much to my disdain.

“Who…are you?” I asked her timidly as she rushed forward to the back of the room.

“You may call me Jen,” She said quickly. “We haven’t had a new servant in some time, but the new ones, they have someone assigned to them, a guide. I am to be your guide for these next few days.”

“Jen,” I muttered as she rushed me through the locker room, past the rows of cubbies and finally to the one that Sheena had assigned me the night before. “I need…I can’t…”

“How is it then you’ve got so little stamina?” She reached into the cubby and pulled out two small glass bottles filled with green and blue liquids respectively. “You’re a male, no? Surely this isn’t so hard on you.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “This is just so…” The fatigue was beginning to subside but my body still screamed for more rest. It was getting better, I had to admit, but I couldn’t tell why I was so exhausted.

“Pardon,” A dark-skinned girl said as she brushed past us and disappeared into the shower room.

“This way,” Jen gestured toward the open door. I hesitated, but then it occurred to me, why should I be nervous? Was I not nobility? Were these people not beneath me? According to the High Lady I was no longer nobility but she could not deny the blood that ran through my veins and she could certainly not dilute it. A girl, I was, but nobility I also was. I straightened my back and walked straight, preceding Jen who did not attempt to overtake me. The moment I stepped through the threshold I was assaulted by a wall of scalding steam and the scent of body odor unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t help but gag and choke as I inhaled the steam. Jen finally overtook me and took me by the arm, leading me across the shower chamber.

The floor in here was different than the bed chamber; it was a sleek green that sloped gently downward to accommodate the trickle of water rushing toward the center drains. This section of the chamber seemed to be small, but I could tell that it was one of many; it was comprised of stone shower cubbies, each large enough to fit a single person which ran the length of the room from left to right, save for the set on the right which appeared to terminate several feet from the rear wall; perhaps it led to another section precisely like this one. Along the rear wall, four casement windows were set high up near the ceiling, each one still dark but would no doubt begin to stream morning light onto the space within the hour.

I recognized the shower apparatuses. Powered by steam but still primitive; somewhere within the manse, deep underground I supposed, would be the hot water tank connected to dozens of pipes, valves, heating elements, and other apparatuses to carry the water upward. A feat of science that I had always taken for granted.

“Jen!” A dark-haired girl, older than me probably strode naked from the shower without giving me so much as a second glance. “This one’s broken, you see?”

Jen craned her neck to see the shower head within the stone cubby spurting water sporadically instead of providing a steady stream. The water splatted against the floor in imprecise intervals, causing Jen to roll her eyes.

“I do so like it here,” Jen said. “But times come when I miss the simplicity of home.”

“You aren’t wrong,” The girl grinned. “What was the matter with a basin and a bar of home-grown soap?”

“Running water!” Jen spat the words in a joking manner. “The pinnacle of Klocby advancement! Doesn’t even work!”

The girls laughed for a moment, fully amused with themselves before the new girl finally looked to me.

“And what’s with this one?” She raised an eyebrow at me. “she soil herself, then?”

“Night terrors, I’d imagine,” Jen shrugged. “Many of the new girls go through them I’d say.”

“True speak,” She nodded. “But how many yellow their gown?”

“Well,” Jen said. “I would bear to thought that most of us chose to be here. In fact, s’far as I know, Lyra’s the only one compelled to stay.”

“This is a respectable place,” The girl scowled at me. “t’aint the room for beggars and thieves. Y’do well to mind yourself here, then?”

I nodded, at a loss for words; no one had ever spoken to me in such a brash, disrespectful tone. Even my trainers had shown a modicum of respect. Here, there was no respect to be found.

The girl turned and walked off toward the locker room, leaving me to stand there with Jen.

“Come, off we go,” She took me by the arm suddenly, before I could ask any questions and led me past a red-laqured bench, toward an empty stall where the water was already running. Jen practically pulled me out of my shift and disappeared for a moment, presumably disposing of it. “Go on, wash yourself,” She indicated the two bottles I was holding.

Warm water seeped into my hair, dripped down my brow and over my shoulders as she looked at me expectantly.

“Well?”

“Uh,” I tried to speak but found my voice to quiver as the bottle clinked together in my hand. A look of recognition passed over her face.

“Have you never used washing fluids then? Take the blue one and use it on your hair, the green one, tis for your body,” She explained to me.

With her instruction and occasional interference I managed to finish the shower and then walked, naked back to the locker room. I could feel at least a few of the girls watching me, a few of them giggled as I passed through the threshold, suddenly wishing I were anywhere else. This was nowhere close to what I’d imagined when I’d made my request of the Lady Jenwald. I didn’t know exactly what I’d expected, perhaps not even that she would grant my request, but she had, and I found myself thrown into the midst of a veritable whirlwind of emotions and experiences unfolding in front of my eyes, assaulting my every weakness and ensuring that each passing moment was pure emotional agony.

I stood there in front of my locker, looking desperately for Jen, then realized that she had likely stayed behind to shower, assuming that I could get dressed on my own. I turned the clothes over in my hands, looking at undergarments I didn’t recognize. Underwear, but they were thin and they definitely didn’t look like they would hold anything in. There was a brassiere, but of course I was familiar with that. Yet another item that looked as if it were a piece of swimwear but it was far too thin and wouldn’t cover the breasts.

“It’s a shaper,” The girl across from me said suddenly. I turned in surprise to see her and other girl, the two of them had been engaged in conversation earlier. “You put it on under your clothes.”

“Let me help you,” The second girl said, stepping forward and taking it from me. “There’s no shame in needing help.”

“There is shame in putting yourself in this situation willingly,” The first girl said. I regarded her warily before dropping my eyes to the floor. The second girl unclasped the garment at the crotch and asked me to step into it. “My name is Sophia, this is Miah. Obviously, you would be Lyra.”

I nodded silently as Miah clasped the garment and then proceeded to help me into the brassier.

“Here,” Miah took my hands and pulled them gently behind my back. “try to feel the clasp, you want to connect these two, oh, here let me show you.”

She quickly removed the brassier from my body and held it out in front of me.

“Here, see these clasps? You need to pull them together, you have to put tension on the strap until it’s in, then let go. Strange, I know.”

“Not so strange,” Sophia scoffed. “Be lucky you’re low born. Imagine if you had to deal with petticoats and corsets!”

“Peasant perks, we ought call them,” Miah laughed. “Here then, pull this over your head.”

“What of the hair, then?” Sophia took a tuft of my shoulder-length brown hair in her hand and looked to Miah. “The shape is entirely bland.”

“Take heat to it, when time permits,” Miah tilted her head as if inspecting me. “though they say there’s to be a shortage of gemstones, we’ll have to find aught to do about heat.”

“Another reason there, to appreciate our low born status,” Sophia nodded. “the upstairs is all in an uproar over the Mockreet.”

“And who would have thought we’d live to see Hybra fall?” Miah suddenly looked concerned. The concern on my own face was probably visible as well. What did she mean Hybra had fallen?

“How…how did Hybra fall?” I asked in complete disbelief. “That’s not-”

“I wondered where you’d gotten off to!” Jen’s voice roared over the others. She walked quickly toward me, her hair still wet and glistening. I turned to Miah and Sophia.

“The Mockreet,” I said quickly. “Tell me what-”

“You ought not dabble in politics,” Jen said, taking my arm and pulling me down the row of lockers and toward the exit. “nothing good can come of them!”

I wanted to protest but before I could say anything further we were in the hall and barreling through doors, taking turns, and crossing through rooms that I didn’t recognize. We burst through a set of double doors and my heart sank into my stomach as I found myself in a large room filled with long tables, and most importantly, people. Beneath a high raftered ceiling servants, male and female alike carried trays of food, leaned against tables, conversed, laughed, and ate. My immediate instinct was to flee the room before anyone saw me; I was acutely aware of how ridiculous I must look and here I was, standing in a room before hundreds of people! Jen must have anticipated my intention and tightened her grip on my arm as my body tensed. Had I fantasized about wearing dresses? More than once, but I’d never had the chance to do it; these were the wishes that nested deep within my dreams and fantasies as I lay in my royal bed at night, and in the quiet moments between arms training and education. But to wear one and to be where other people could see me? Not just one, but hundreds? It wasn’t a scenario that had occurred to me the night before, but only because I was busy tossing and turning in a sweat drenched bed of hay.

I attracted more than a few stares from male and female servants alike as Jen pulled me along through the middle of the crowd. One boy stared at me for a little too long, a girl stifled a giggle, and a few pointed at me, not so subtly. Past one, table, past a supporting pillar, around to the left, the entire way my cheeks burned and my eyes began to water over the shame that was building up inside me. I didn’t look like a girl, I looked like a slim seventeen year old boy with laughably long hair. What had I done? Why had I done this? I’d made a terrible mistake and no one could help me.

“Sit,” Jen instructed me, pointing to a bench. I looked up and realized we’d arrived at a smaller table off to the side occupied by Kayla, Sheena, and the man from the other night, Elric. The dark skinned man with the red hair, nearly as long as mine. I slid obediently into the bench across from Sheena who barely gave me a second glance. She was busy inspecting a ledger in front of her, quietly flipping through pages as she nibbled on a roll.

“Have you heard the news?” Elric said in a thick Eplosian accent to Jen as she sat down. “A man named Pontifer, an inventor made a clockwork man, it can walk and talk, well, the talking is debatable.”

“Some people talk a lot and say very little,” Jen smirked. “I doubt a clockwork man could say much of interest.”

“A clockwork man that could think, could put us all out of a job,” Elric mused. “Imagine, a hundred automatons skittering around this place, each one doing the job of ten men!”

Pontifer Jellic. Making automatons. I knew of the man; he’d once been in my father’s employ, charged with deploying his massive steam powered cannons on the wall. Brass monstrosities that replaced the iron canons from decades before; unlike those, these could be operated by a single man seated in a cockpit just behind the barrel. Highly efficient killing machines, but Pontifer had spoken of making them even more efficient by getting rid of the gunner altogether and giving them complete automation. Maybe he was a step closer. I could have told Elric that his job wasn’t in danger as Pontifer’s automatons would sooner carry rifles than serving trays but my pre-occupation with my attire and our location kept my mind from wandering.

“Enough speculation,” Sheena said. “Jenisa?”

“My name, is Jen,” Jen said. She reached toward the middle of the table and grabbed a plate full of food, then placed it in front of me. I gawked at the selection and then realized just how hungry I had been. Bright red Rukon eggs, biscuits slathered with lamb-butter, a slab of pink hogsmeat; it was all smashed together on a small off-white plate, flavors and juices mixing together in a way I’d never seen before. Food touching? Such a thing would never have been allowed in my father’s kitchens, but despite my underlying disgust, my hunger won out and I began to dig into the food, shoving hogsmeat into my mouth and garnering an annoyed look from Sheena who glared in my direction until I stopped and set the meat back down on the plate.

“Straighten your back,” She snapped at me. “eat with your utensils. Goddess, I’ll have to teach you how to eat. Jen, report, please.”

“I showed her the showers,” Jen said. “and then I abandoned her to her own devices. Luckily she managed to dress herself.”

“Clearly,” Sheena eyed me, looking me over as I sat there frozen with a three-pronged fork in my hand. “I heard she soiled the bed?”

“Night terrors, I think,” Jen confirmed.

“Pippa complained,” Sheena said to Jen. “She said they can wash the straw but they’d prefer it didn’t happen. If it happens again maybe lay down a mat.”

Lay down a mat? Part of me wanted to be angry; I was a noble and they were speaking of methods to keep me from wetting the bed? The anger suddenly melted into embarrassment and then outright humiliation; I couldn’t imagine myself sinking any lower than that point, but as with many things lately, I would find that assessment to be incorrect.

“Finish your food,” Sheena instructed me as she observed my facial expression. “None of this is meant to hurt you, no one is angry with you.”

“Quite the opposite,” Elric added. “Even those who come here of their own accord-”

“Which is about ninety percent,” Sheena interjected.

“-have difficulty acclimating. Sleeping in a strange place, with strange people, anyone would have trouble. I did, once.”

“Find that hard to believe,” Kayla spoke up from beside Sheena.

“Oh, you’re here,” Elric leaned forward and peeked past Sheena. “How unfortunate.”

Sheena plucked a stiff piece of paper from her stack and handed it across the table to Jen who took it between bites of food. She gave it a cursory glance and then looked to Sheena.

“Latrines I understand, it wouldn’t hurt her to scrub some floors, but the kitchen?” Jen gestured at the sheet.

“Do you know how we use gemstones to clean the dishes, with vibration?”

“Common knowledge, ‘tis,” Jen nodded.

“Gemstones are in short supply thanks to the situation in Hybra. They want more people to wash, but I’m short on staff as it is.”

What. Situation. In. Hybra?!

“Finish eating,” Jen told me. “We have work to do.”

I barely managed to finish my plate when Jen dragged me from the table without so much as a word from Sheena. As we left, I made brief eye contact with a girl who greeted me with a highly suppressed scowl. I almost wanted to dismiss it but in my current state every glare, every comment, every wayward glance weighed heavily on my soul. The veil of judgement was thick. Instead of simply shoving past me, she shoved something into my hand; a piece of paper. A note? Before I could question her she was gone, disappeared through the doors behind me. I wanted to look at it, but instead I rushed to the predictable cadence of Jen telling me to ‘hurry it up’. Instead, I stuffed the note into the pocket of my uniform.

We crossed a steel and glass bridge that overlooked the estate; from my vantage point I could see dozens of buildings jutting from the ground, many just tall enough to peek over the walls and into the city proper. To the left, central to the courtyard, an exposed gear three stories tall, rotating quickly, the latter half of it deep underground, presumably interacting with a series of cogs that served to provide power to the estate. I had learned from my father’s intelligence reports that the system was powered by a geothermal vent deep underground, pushing hundreds of tons of brass and steel. None of that knowledge was of any consequence to me now; as this fantasy of mine was indulged further and further, I wondered if I could ever return to who I was. Would I even want to? If my father discovered what I’d done here, would he accept me back with open arms?

We reached a latrine and Jen showed me how to use the various cleaning chemicals. The chemicals for the waste receptacles, or toilets, as they were called, were similar to the brass wash basins, but the inside of the bowl had to be wiped by hand with a solution-soaked cloth. Scrub around the base, scrub the grout, wipe the stalls, clean the mirrors, make the room sparkle, so much as a latrine laden with brown walls and a black slate floor could sparkle. By the time I finished, my knees were raw and bruised, my hands on the verge of blistering, and my uniform was soaked through with sweat. My hair clung to my face and I breathed heavily as I sat with my back against the brown-brick wall.

“Don’t get comfortable,” Jen said as I struggled to keep myself from dozing off to sleep. “We have four more on this floor, then we go to the kitchens.”

Four more. I could barely handle just one. As I sat there, trying to force my mind to reconnect with my body, I began to realize just what I’d agreed to when I stood before the High Lady Jenwise. This was the life of a servant; something I had completely dismissed in my former life. I had ordered my own servants to do menial tasks such as cleaning latrines, preparing food, making my bed, things I’d considered to be below me. They had done so without complaint either out of loyalty or fear, but now it was me, and now I understood the weight of my commands. I was trapped in a nightmare that would never end, and one that I had no control over.

“Are you crying?” Jen demanded, standing over me. I wiped my eye and shook my head; she suppressed a laugh. “Meet me in the hall, when you’re done feeling sorry for yourself. Oh, and pick up your trash, you’re making a mess already.”

She left, and I looked to the spot on the floor where she had pointed; it was the piece of paper that the girl had slipped to me. Slowly and painfully I leaned forward, taking it between my fingers and holding it up to read what had been scrawled there. Five words. Five words that would change everything.

I know who you are.

“Jen!” My voice echoed breathlessly down the hall as I watched her petite form bob further and further away from me. She half turned and watched me as I collapsed to the floor; the balls of my feet ached and throbbed in tandem, but were then overtaken by an almost soothing pain as the pressure was alleviated from them. I gasped and wheezed, my back to the wall just in front of a series of blue-tinted windows that bathed cool light over my crumpled form. She walked briskly toward me and stopped just within my frame of vision; against the light she was an ominous silhouetted form with hints of glowing radiance from her pale blonde hair. I looked up at her pleadingly, hoping for some hint of sympathy. My arms ached, my knees were covered in bruises, my fingers raw and sore; there wasn’t a single part of my body that wasn’t screaming in pain and begging for a reprieve.

“What is it that royalty does?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head downward as I took shallow breaths and tried to make the most of the short break I’d afforded myself.

“What do you mean?” I asked her apprehensively, unsure what she was hinting at. Did she know who I was?

“I know who you are,” She confirmed. “Sheena told me all when I agreed to take charge of your training. So then tell me, what ‘tis it that royalty does?”

“I…I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I don’t understand your meaning.”

“My meaning is that you sit in your mansions and you wear your fancy clothes, and you eat your fancy food, and you look down on folk like me. You act as though you’re better, as if you wouldn’t soil your hands by layin’ them on us. Then you won’t pay us a fair wage because y’say ‘Oh, tis a job anyone can do!’. But here you are, your royal highness, sure’s as the night guides by fen and fern, laid out like hogsmeat on a Beltane feast when you’re tasked with the simplest. You’ve but scrubbed a floor and cleaned the basins. What would you say to a servant in your employ if they should falter so?”

I didn’t want to answer that; I knew exactly what I would say to any servant that couldn’t perform the most basic of duties.

“I…I would tell them to get back to work,” I relented, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment and resisting the urge to cry. It didn’t work; tears began to form at the corners of my eyes and I coughed to cover a sudden sob that overtook me.

“Then to you,” she said. “I say tarry here a moment and collect yourself, but not too long, mind you.”

I looked up at her in surprise, my vision blurred and my lower jaw trembled.

“Thank you,” I said at almost a whisper.

“We are but human,” She told me. “Even one such as you. Just that you ‘ad to be knocked down a few dozen pegs to realize it.”

“You ought to have liked the stables better,” A new voice interjected; I looked up to see Elric standing to my right, red hair gleaming in the muted sunlight. “But then I suppose everyone has their calling.”

To be honest, my first instinct was to hate him, but he was making it harder and harder every time he spoke.

“We make for the kitchens next,” Jen said, stealing a quick glance at me before looking back to Elric. “Sheena insists that she do the most of women’s work.”

“I would say that the kitchen is not women’s work,” Elric mused. Jen smiled.

“Not when you’re in it, I would say not,” She laughed.

“Be on with you then,” Elric grinned and left us in the corridor.

“Up with you,” Jen gestured to me and I reluctantly rose from the floor, my body still aching and screaming at me for rest. “The soreness will go and you’ll be better for it.”

“I wish I could believe that,” I said softly, trying my best to hold back the tears that still wanted to erupt from my eyes. This pain was greater than anything I’d felt in my life, and I’d liked to think that I was experienced. Maybe I was wrong.

“Tell me,” She said to me as we walked. “What is it that you hoped to gain from this? Do you truly believe you’re a woman?”

“I think so,” I said, exhausted. I might have had a better statement to make had my body not been rebelling against me with every step we took.

“Well I think you ought be sure ‘fore you put on a dress and start calling yourself Lyra!” She laughed. I blushed. “still, I think we ought to paint your face mayhap. The hair looks as well now.”

“Wouldn’t the paint just sweat off?” I recalled my sister, Robin complaining about that.

“Not if it’s done right and proper,” She said. “there’s a concoction that can seal it in.”

“I didn’t know that,” I admitted.

“I’d expect not,” She said. “But you are here to learn, aren’t you?’

“I just didn’t think it would be this hard. I thought-”

“You thought that women had it easy? You had it in your mind that women’s work was simple and soft?

“I guess because you take to it so naturally,” I said. “You make it…look easy.”

“And now?”

“I’ve been wrong about much lately,” I found the admission hard, but she nodded in a sign of satisfaction.

“We’ll make a woman of you yet,” She said as we turned a corner and descended a staircase. The layout of the royal palace confused me to no end. Axock’s palace was large, but it was one building and isolated from the rest of the grounds. The palace, here, at Klocby was not only massive, it was interconnected with all of the surrounding buildings behind the inner wall. You could reach any of the buildings by passing through a walkway on the second floor, but you could not do the same if you were on the third. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get used to it; as far as I knew there were four servant quarters, each one half the size of the palace proper and I’d only seen the women’s. There was so much happening here, which was more than evident as we passed servants and nobles alike in the hall, most of them affording me no more than a second glance. It took me some time to figure out why it was they didn’t recognize me. I was, after all, Micah Lavoric, heir to the throne of Axock, and surely any noble would be familiar with my face. It occurred to me that as we were working, Jen insisted that I keep my hair bound behind my head to keep it out of eyes, but when we walked the halls, she would reach behind and pluck out the tie. My hair, styled as it was, framed my face in such a way that I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror and Sophie had plucked away at my eyebrows to alter their shape completely. I felt like a different person when I beheld myself, and in a way it made me feel deeply satisfied though the want for more was still there.

With every person we passed, my eyes scanned vigilantly for the girl who had handed me the note three days ago. The message still chilled me to the bone: ‘I know who you are’. Sheena had assured me that my identity would be kept secret, and of course, most people would not know a noble even if they laid eyes on them, especially if they were dressed as a commoner, so who was it that had discerned my identity? What could it mean for me?

We turned a corner and stepped through a set of metal doors, immediately placing us inside the east kitchen. Inside there were ten girls standing at various workstations, chopping meat or vegetables; other girls worked at gas powered stoves, tending to meat or watching pots of boiling liquid. Conversation seemed quieted here, and if there were any to be heard, it was drowned out by the hiss of steam, the bubbling of pots, or the constant tap of a knife falling upon a cutting board. The second thing I noticed, apart from the noise, was the heat. The interior of the kitchen, even as large as it was, was sweltering. My brow began to sweat immediately, and I felt wetness forming below my armpits; it was difficult to breathe in here.

“This way,” Jen instructed me. We crossed the slate floor and stopped at a copper wash basin half as deep as I was tall and split into three sections. The faucet was high and easily detachable - I’d seen these before. “You’ll want to mind the water, it gets hot.”

She showed me in an almost bored fashion how to use the spigot to wash the dishes which continually accumulated at the edge of the sink. Dinner service, she explained, was still several hours off, but the accumulation of dishes had been left from lunch as there had been no one to clean them. This, of course, left me stuck cleaning hundreds of porcelain plates, metal trays, cups, silver-plated dining utensils and various kitchen utensils that were passed to me. For some reason I found the work relaxing; one dish after another, hot water applied, moved to the clean pile on the other side of the basin. It was dull, it was repetitive, and for the first time I felt that my mind was allowed to breathe. I allowed my mind to wander over the events of the last four days. The very moment I had worked up the nerve to make the request of the Lady Jenwise, the terror I’d felt when placing the matter forth, and then the strange conflation of relief and trepidation as she had agreed to my request. So here I was, living as the girl I’d known myself to be for years, since the day I’d dared to run my hands across the fabric of Robin’s silk chemise and longed to wear it. So many years of observing myself in the mirror and feeling the horrific pain and disgust of a face that was not mine, staring back at me in silent mockery. My mind reflected on the day I had taken my balled fists to that mirror, shattering the glass and leaving my hands bloody from the knuckles to the palms. I’d hated myself so much, and in many ways I still did, but here under the care of Sheena and Jen, I felt a bit happier; could it be enough?

My pondering was cut short by a commotion behind me, several of the girls shrieked, a few began to murmur.

“-it is in the paper then?” One of the girls shouted. “Are they finally going to tell us?”

“It matters little,” Jen said loudly over the noise of the kitchen. “What have politics to do with us? Leave it, I say.”

“Leave the fall of the Mockreet?” A girl laughed. “I know not of you, but I enjoy being able to wash the dishes without that…thing over there pretending to be a-”

“That is enough!” Jen suddenly shrieked. “If you say such a thing again I will speak to Sheena on your behalf!”

“‘Tis a silly thing to say,” Another girl pointed out. “So long as the….as long as she remains silent and tends to her tasks, who are we to raise a fuss?”

The arguing continued and I half-turned to see what the commotion was about; all I could see, however, was the group turning inward and arguing with one another. I heard curses uttered, a names being called, but most importantly, I noticed the food laying loose on the table behind me. My stomach growled as I regarded a pile of vegetables and while their backs were turned, I snatched a small red tomato and dropped it into my apron pocket.

Eventually the noise died down and everyone returned to their stations, leaving me to wonder exactly what had happened with Hybra, once again, and of course receiving no suitable answers. I wanted to ask, but the sound of my own voice was beginning to disgust me and I doubted any of them wanted to hear from me anyway. Eventually, I found myself walking with Jen again, back toward our own dining hall.

“Who cleans up after dinner service?” I asked her. She looked at me, puzzled.

“The night crew, of course,” She said.

The night crew. Of course; there were four servant’s quarters, but did that mean two of them were dedicated to night workers? I had never thought about it, back in Axock; I’d somehow always believed there was only one group of servants and that they’d worked all day and night. It suddenly occurred to me how stupid that thought was.

We crossed another steel-glass bridge at a brisk pace, this one overlooking the southern-most section of the palace grounds. Beyond the glass I could see the jutting towers of Klocby palace with its slate roof and cathedral style architecture. As we passed the bridge, we emerged into an octagonal space that split off into seven different directions; Jen chose the third passage, but immediately stopped as High Lady Jenwise emerged from straight ahead.

“Over here,” Jen hissed, snatching my arm and drawing me beside her. She indicated that I should place my hands behind my back. We stood side by side as the High Lady passed through the space with two male guards, each wearing a crisp blue, high collared uniform, and a rifle slung over their left shoulder.

“Good morrow, High Lady,” Jen said smoothly as the High Lady passed. She stopped and turned to us, giving me no more than a cursory glance, but moving toward Jen.

“Jenise,” She acknowledge. “All goes well, I presume?”

“Yes, High Lady,” Jen said. “Are you well?”

“Indeed I am, I must be off though, business to attend to.”

“Yes, High Lady,” Jen took the edges of her skirt and dipped her knees slightly in a move that I’d seen many servant girls perform but I still had no idea what it was supposed to signify.

“Has my father sent word, High Lady?” I asked suddenly. She paused and then looked at me with annoyance; I saw the color drain from Jen’s face.

“Teach your charge when to speak and when to remain silent,” The High Lady said curtly.

“Yes, High Lady,” Jen said hurriedly as the High Lady made her way to the adjacent corridor.

“What was that about?” I asked Jen as soon as the octagon was empty. I’d expected an answer, but instead, Jen turned toward me, raised her hand, and landed an open palm slap across my face. I yelped and stumbled backward at the impact, falling to the floor and dropping to all fours as the taste of blood filled my mouth and my vision began to swim.

“And to think I believed you were making progress,” She scoffed. I managed to turn myself over and drop to the floor, palms behind me to support my weight as I looked up at her through watery eyes.

“All I did was speak to her!” I protested. “I don’t understand!”

“You have far to go,” She told me. “but worry not, you have two years left on your sentence. Walk behind me.”

That was right, I remembered as I climbed to my feet and followed her, this time keeping pace behind her instead of at her side. I was a mere three days into a two year sentence. I wondered if I could survive it. Physically intact, I surely would be, but what would my mind be? More importantly, who would I be?

We reached the dining hall, and as expected, it was filled with other servants, all chatting, laughing, and eating. The dinner service for us, as Jen had once explained, was more laid back than breakfast or lunch; on this we could take our time as there was no work to return to afterward. From here, I supposed, the night shift would take over. Still hungry, I looked over to our kitchen area where food was being dished out and dropped onto trays; it looked like potatoes and beefmeat. My stomach rumbled.

“Lyra,” Kayla’s voice interrupted my fantasizing. She had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but she did tend to do that. “Sheena would speak to you.”

“Thank the goddess,” Jen muttered and wandered away from me.

“Come,” Kayla gestured out through the double doors and toward the hallway where we took several turns and ascended a staircase until we stood in a darkened hallway with wood paneling, illuminated only by weak glow-globes set into translucent green shades.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I grew more nervous with every passing moment.

“Be silent,” Kayla instructed me. Eventually we reached a door on the left hand side, leading to what appeared to be a bedroom chamber combined with an office. This was clearly on one of the outer walls of the building; a large casement window stood behind a smaller wooden desk, similar to the way in which the Lady Jenwise’s office had been established. Bookshelves lined the walls containing hefty leather-bound volumes, all accompanied by several large chairs and a coffee table. To the right could be seen a small cot that looked fairly uncomfortable to sleep on, but was covered in pillows nonetheless.

I immediately recognized Sheena standing with her back to us, looking out the window over the courtyard.

“Lyra,” She said, smiling briefly as she turned around. “How are you settling in?”

“It’s um…it’s okay,” I nodded, still feeling the sting of Jen’s palm against my cheek.

“Good to hear,” She nodded. “Empty your pockets.”

“What?” I looked to her with confusion as she stared daggers at me.

“Your apron pocket,” She said to me. “Empty it.”

Nervously, I reached my fingers toward the pocket and then, in my hand, I held the tiny tomato that I’d taken from the kitchen. My heart pounded; though I was entirely unsure of what was happening. Sheena looked to the tomato and then looked to me. I suddenly felt Kayla hovering behind me, causing my already mounting anxiety to shoot through the roof.

“Tell me, Lyra,” She bit her lip and stepped forward, moving around the desk. “When you were a noble, back at your father’s palace in Axock, what might you have done should you catch a servant in the act of thievery?”

My eyes widened, my mouth dropped a little as my skin tensed.

“You don’t want to answer that?” Kayla asked from behind me.

“Of course she doesn’t,” Sheena confirmed. “She’s partial to having both her hands.”

“Mind you don’t soil the rug,” Kayla said, moving closer to me.

“Come here,” Sheena gestured toward the desk and for the first time I noticed the long, black object in her hand. I immediately recoiled, stepping backward, fully intending to run toward the door when Kayla roughly grabbed my shoulders and pushed me forward, toward the desk.

“No!” I cried out, struggling against Kayla’s iron grip as she continued to push; her fingernails dug into my skin. “No no no, please! Sheena, please!”

I was sobbing now, crying, shrieking, even begging. Things that I would never have considered doing a few days ago. Begging was beneath me, crying was beneath me, but now, everything seemed to run together as I abandoned my dignity and cried for mercy.

“Please!” I begged. “I was hungry, I’m sorry!”

“How many servants were hungry when you ordered the same sentence?” She demanded loudly. “Oh, I’ve heard the stories. Your father is brutal, and you take right after him. Which hand did you use to steal? Answer!”

“I- I…” I tried to answer but I suddenly found myself unable to form words as Kayla forced my hands down onto the desk, holding my wrists in place firmly even as I struggled against her. She was strong; I was helpless. This was going to happen.

“Very well,” She said quickly. “I will choose. You are right handed, no? Perhaps you don’t need your left.”

“No!” I wailed. “Sheena, no!”

“You will address me as First Girl,” She growled. “Today you will learn respect. You ought get used to it, after today, you believe you father will take you back? A cripple? This is where you are, this is where you will stay.”

She was right; my father would never welcome me home, not as a cripple. I squirmed hard against Kayla’s grip but it was no use; it felt as if my wrists were held to the table by a supernatural force and it was guiding me swiftly toward the impeding mutilation as my tears pooled on the surface of the desk. Then it happened; a white hot pain seared through my right hand as Sheena brought it down, putting the full force of her weight into the swing. I howled as pain exploded and became my reality, writhing and shaking, sobbing and screaming. Then, suddenly, the pain dulled; it still hurt, but it was merely a sharp throb. I cracked my eyes, just a bit, opening them wider as I saw that my hand was still attached. Sheena dropped the switch onto the desk. It hadn’t been a knife after all. What was happening?

Dead silence followed as Kayla continued to hold my wrists against the desk, using the weight of her body to keep me bent over. Only my sobs could be heard, echoing off of the wood paneling. Finally, Sheena spoke.

“There was a girl,” She said. “Her name was Plum, do you remember her?”

I shook my head, still too shocked to speak.

“You ought. She was hungry too. Your father had food withheld from her for three days. The reason? She forgot to curtsey. How fair do you think that is? She stole a piece of bread, a small piece from what I understand. Your father ordered you to decide upon the sentence. Can you remember what decision you made?”

She didn’t have to tell me. I remembered. She noted the recognition on my face and continued.

“Do you know what became of her? Of course you don’t, why would such matters bother you? A noble? She was cast out, bloody stump and all. She died, begging for bread in the streets. A fitting end, from your point of view.”

The full horror and shame was beginning to set in. My eyes burned and my body trembled. I had done that. Me. It was me.

“When you came here, I told you that you needn’t be afraid.” She continued. “I told you that my protection extends to you. I meant what I said, Lyra, and I want you to understand that I am extending mercy where none is due. You committed atrocities in the Lavoric name, but I am giving you clemency because I know that you are not your father’s son. I have watched you, and I acknowledge that you can learn, that you can be different, and that you are young so there is time enough. Do you understand?”

“Yes First Girl,” I said, resigned to whatever fate she had in store for me.

“From this day forth, to the end of your sentence, you will lean into the role that you have chosen for yourself. You will cleanse yourself of these ideas of nobility, you will forget your male identity. You will be Lyra, as you have so chosen. Am I understood?”

“Yes First Girl,” I winced as Kayla released my wrists, allowing me to drop to the floor with the two of them hovering over me.

“Now come, sit with me,” Sheena ordered.

I obediently climbed to my feet and followed her to a sofa, where she gestured for me to sit. As I took to the seat, she wrapped her arms around me and held my face to her chest. I broke out into continual sobs as she rubbed her hands across my back.

“Calm now,” She said. “Tomorrow will be better.”

2 Years Ago

I could see the Stormveil from my vantage point, safe behind the steel-glass port of my father’s airship. To see it for the first time was beyond breathtaking; a perpetual storm four hundred and fifty meters high, running the length of the continent, stretched out along the horizon. A rush of wind enraptured millions of specks of dirt, debris, and even rock, swirling and blowing, tearing through the sky to create an immense wall of pitch blackness, broken only by the period lightning flash from beyond the event horizon.

“Beautiful, but deadly,” My father’s voice cut into my admiration of the less than natural wonder. I was immediately drawn back to my immediate surroundings; the dark-gray steel of the wall surrounding me, the hum and consistent vibration of the floor beneath my polished boots. Beyond the walls, the clanking of machinery, slamming of copper pistons, the muted hiss of steam pipes providing power to the massive engines just a hundred meters behind us. “They say one cannot approach it, a distance of three point seven two miles is the hard limit.”

“Is that so?” I mused, finally looking away from the window and toward my father who was seated in a short, cushionless chair, bolted to the floor to prevent it from tumbling. As stable as the airship was, heavy objects could become projectiles in times of turbulence and as we rode three hundred meters off the ground, turbulence was an inevitability.

My father nursed his drink; a brown liquid ensconced within a square crystal glass, sloshing about as he tilted it and visually inspected the contents before taking a brief sip. He was a built man, a hardened, chiseled face with a black beard that was carefully trimmed and showing the slightest hints of gray. Like me, he wore the deep black Axock military uniform, decorated with brass buttons in the front, but in true Axockish style, the lapel pulled back, creating an angular panel of blue across his breast.

“It is so,” he nodded. “The winds would tear our airship apart, even at that distance. A man? The flesh ripped from his skeleton within mere seconds.”

Outside the window, miles away, a flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the Stormveil and I squinted, hoping in vain to see something beyond the unnatural barrier.

“I was in awe, the first time I saw it too, my son, but you must take heed at the beauty of things. Oftentimes beauty hides malice, and malice can bring about our end. It was malice that built the Stormveil, and malice that will bring it down.”

“How did the Stormveil come to be, father?” I asked him as I turned from the window and took my seat in the chair across from him. “You never spoke on such things.”

“No, I did not,” His expression grew grim as the ship rumbled closer to the Stormveil. “twenty-nine years ago, son, the world was whole. Axock was a great kingdom-”

“It still is, father,” I raised an eyebrow, thinking of the towering spires of my home, the palace proper within the nation of Axock. He chuckled a little, and then his face returned to that same stony expression that I knew best.

“Nearly thirty years ago,” He said. “Axock was on the verge of conquering the known world. Klocby and Oniodale would not bend the knee of course, and with their military strength, we had no hope, even today, but imagine what the world would have been son, had we been able to take Onira and the surrounding nations! The rock men in the city of Jybaltin; unwilling allies of course, but allies nonetheless. A unified front son, Axock would have been the wonder of the world, a military force impossible to stop.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Why did you stop?”

Father took a long tug on his drink, and then set the glass on the short table in front of him; it clinked as the liquid sloshed in time with the ship’s vibration.

“It wasn’t by choice, son,” He shook his head. “the Mah’kur commited their treachery overnight. Dark magic was invoked to create the Stormveil; just as we were to march upon Onira, it tore through Faidrye and killed a third of Axock’s troops. A full third, son. The loss of supplies, the devastation to our morale, we still hasn’t fully recovered, and it’s all thanks to them. So, son, beauty, is malice. Always look beyond it. Find the truth, because the truth is ugly.”

“But father,” I argued. “Our forces are at least equal to Klocby and Onidale. We could march on them within a fortnight-”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, son,” My father raised a hand, calling for silence. “however, equal is not sufficient. We would fight a war of attrition, the losses on both sides would be substantial, and how long do you think my men would follow me if I sent them intentionally to their demise?”

“The men are loyal to you, father,” I said firmly.

“Right you are, my boy,” Father nodded. “But we rule not just through fear, but through competency. It tasks us to keep the delicate balance between the two, but if you show the men you are competent, then fear will do the rest.”

“But will they not judge us as weak if we take no action?” I asked. “The High Lady Jenwise is…arrogant, as you have said.”

“Should we take action,” My father said. “The High Lady can call upon the support of Krescester, Foport, and Ziita, not to mention the aid of Lord Radon and his considerable force. We would be outnumbered.”

“Nonsense,” I shook my head. “What of our forces in Uphey and Jurg?”

“They have the technological advantage, son,” My father said. “It is a risk not worthy.”

To our right, the door slid open and a young girl with auburn hair stepped through. She gave a brief curtsey, holding the skirt of her gray uniform and gave the customary greeting of “My Lords” before stepping toward the shelf near the rear of the room, behind father with a new, and replenished decanter.

“Servant!” My father said abruptly. “Your name?”

The girl set the decanter down, gently, and rushed to the center of the room, offering a quick curtsey before father and replying.

“This one is called Plum, my lord,” She said sweetly, but timidly. I could hear the tremble of her voice and sense the tensing of her body. Her skin paled behind a cascade of freckles as she placed her hands, folded in front of her and dropped her head.

“I requested that my whiskey be chilled, servant,” My father glared at her sternly. “Are my requests frivolous now?”

“No, My Lord,” She said.

“And who prepared it?”

“I did,” she admitted, almost visually sinking away even as she stood still.

“Father,” I interjected. “What purpose does our visit to Hybra serve? We cannot breach the Stormveil.”

“On the other side of that veil,” He said. “Are resources beyond imagination. The mines of Onira contain gemstones that channel elements in ways you’ve never seen. The ability to create fire from thin air, to reshape the land beneath your feet. Imagine son, if we could broker a trade agreement with Onir. Time it would take, but the elemental power we would gain? Then son, we could claim the victory that we both desire. The right to reshape the realm as we see fit. All of Faidrye beneath the Axock banner. That is what I seek.”

“I see,” I nodded. “but then we must decide when enough is enough. If we could take Klocby without opposition, then would we need to bring down the Stormveil?”

“All decisions to be made in time,” My father nodded. He then returned his attention to the girl. “we ought execute servants who cannot perform their duties. How difficult can it be, girl?”

“This girl apologizes, My Lord,” She said fearfully. “this girl will fix it-”

“Micah, son,” My father raised his hand, silencing the girl. “you will be fifteen in a matter of days. You are nearly of age. These decisions must become yours to make. How will you discipline her?”

“You spoke of fear, father,” I mused. “should we execute her, it would set an example. An example that would prompt the other servants to perform more efficiently, lest they lose their heads as well.”

“This is true,” My father nodded approvingly. The girl began to tremble even more; a single tear emerged from her eye and rolled down her cheek. Internally, my satisfaction at the power I held grew, and I did my best to keep it from showing. I held the power of life and death over this girl; with a single word I could send her over the side of the airship, or even have her tortured.

“But you also spoke of competency, father,” I said with a sigh. “if we begin executing servants on a whim for such minor offenses, then the burden is on us to train more staff, and ultimately, a waste of resources. Perhaps a lesson is in order.”

“Quite right,” My father nodded. He leaned forward and laid his finger on a gray button set into the table. Less than ten seconds later, a guard stepped through the door, rifle in hand.

“Guard!” My father said sternly and abruptly. “Take the girl and see her flogged, twenty times.”

“Yes, My Lord,” The guard saluted and took Plum by the arm. She whimpered as he dragged her from the chamber.

“You must understand son, as your sister does, that as we hatch our plans against the likes of Klocby, they hatch theirs likewise. The worst thing you can do, my son, is believe you are the smartest in the room, because someone, somewhere, may always outsmart you.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“And then, brute strength helps. Enough talk, son, we near the city of Hybra.”

“And so we negotiate with the Mah’Kur for passage,” I said. My father nodded.

“We negotiate, we gain the resources we need, and then we attack. Biding our time has never been more important.”

“Cleanliness, is a mandate of the Goddess, and a requirement of this fine establishment!” Said the woman at the front of the room. She was well dressed in a white button-down blouse and a light brown skirt, with a black belt to tie it together. She was young with brown hair bound behind her head in a loose bun. I recognized her, but for the life of me I couldn’t place her. We been awakened an hour early; I’d reluctantly dragged myself from my bunk and with Jen’s help, stumbled through my morning routine. It all resulted us, well, most of us, standing in a huge room beneath the servant’s quarters that I wasn’t even aware existed. The room was laid with white tile and wood paneled wall; at the front, a brief stage that looked as if it had been dragged in rather than built within the room. We stood in straight lines, hands folded behind our backs.

“If you are here,” The woman continued. “It is because you have been informed upon! Stand true and prepare for inspection!”

The girls around me suddenly stepped apart, one group to the left, one to the right, then forward, leaving adequate space between us for four other girls in servant gray to walk through the lines, clipboards in hand. Immediately, each girl laid her hands out in front, palms down. I looked around nervously and then laid my hands out likewise.

“What have you done to your hair?” One of the girls demanded of another. “It looks like a sponge!”

“Dirt on your arms,” Another girl said. “Clean it up!”

Finally, one of the girls stood in front of me, but glanced back to the woman on the stage who nodded before stepping down and making her way through the lines, finally standing in front of me. I looked up at her nervously, unsure of what to say. She was my height, and perhaps a bit more petite, but she was intimidating nonetheless.

“It’s been some time,” She said to me quietly. “You were ten years old, if memory serves me, and it does.”

“My Lady?” I asked, confused.

“I am Lady Myria Jenwise, Viscount of Klocby” She told me; my heart immediately skipped a beat. Of course I knew her, she had come to one of my father’s feasts, in a diplomatic fashion of course. The tension between Jocsby and Axock had been the prime matter at home for many years. “A strange situation indeed.”

“Yes My Lady,” I gulped; my throat immediately felt dry.

“Let us see your nails then, tarry not!”

I stood silently and nervously as she took my hand in hers, running her fingers over my nails and finally turning them over and running her fingers through the crevices. Finally, she stepped back and looked me over from head to toe.

“Your legs are bruised,” She noted.

“Yes, My Lady.”

“You will become accustomed, to women’s work,” She told me. I tensed; one more confirmation that this wouldn’t end anytime soon. There was no chance or hope that High Lady Jenwise would bestow mercy and move me to a more respectable position. “Who is your transitory preceptor?”

I blinked and cracked my lips, trying to think of an answer, or more accurately trying to figure out what that word even meant.

“I am, My Lady,” Jen said from behind me. I breathed a sigh of relief and momentarily relaxed my shoulders as I realized that she was there - I’d completely forgotten.

“Your work is satisfactory,” The Lady told her.

“I am honored, My lady,” Jen performed a slight curtsey.

“Do you scrub your backside with corrugate?!” An inspector screamed at a girl near the back of the formation. The Lady Myria blinked and then returned her attention to me.

“The First Girl laid instructions for you, this day past,” The Lady told me. “do you recall?”

“Yes, My Lady,” I said quickly, remembering the brief moment I’d spent held over Sheena’s desk, my arms pinned to it and my back pressed as she’d brought the switch down across my hands. The memory flashed before my eyes and I could feel the bruise on my left hand radiating as if it had just happened.

“Preceptor, you are familiar with the application of cosmetics, yes?” She directed her question to Jen; at the back of the formation I heard a girl screaming obscenities.

“Yes, My Lady,” Jen confirmed.

“It need not be extravagant, she is not nobility, after all. Contour her face and provide a natural aesthetic so that the masculine features are hidden. Teach her to do so without the aid of a mirror.”

“Yes, My Lady,” Jen said.

My heart began to race; my immediate reaction was to act disgusted and even resist, but there were so many reasons not to. These things, cosmetics, dresses, the way my hair was styled; they were things that I had wanted for the last two years, perhaps even more, but to act on those feelings would not only have been taboo, they were outright punishable. Now it was punishable not to do them and something about that excited me. I had been given freedom to be the person I felt I was inside; I was being compelled to. So why did I feel such apprehension? Why did my every instinct scream at me to resist? To fight back? By the time I had processed all of these thoughts, the lady had returned to the podium and the inspectors stood to the side.

“These girls will provide me with their findings,” She said, placing her hands on her hips. “You will work on your hygiene, you will make yourself presentable! The honor of Klocby Palace and House Jenwise are no laughing matter! Am I understood?”

“Yes Lady Myria!” We chanted in unison.

“Furthermore, an announcement! Your peers have no doubt received this news already, but due to your misconduct, you have missed much this morning! Hopefully not breakfast! In the next week, the palace will host an event for all Lords this side of the realm! They have traveled far to be here, and as they arrive it will be our duty to make them comfortable! The palace will be prepared! And I hope, girls, that your cleaning skills are not on par with your hygiene!”

“Yes Lady Myria!”

We filed out of the room and immediately dropped our composure as we entered the hall. The girls fled down the hall and up the stairs, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

“Come,” Jen instructed me, leading me away from the other girls and toward a different stairs that deposited us within the girl’s dormitory. “Would you believe that in the next year they finally plan to fix this place?”

“Fix it?” I looked around, trying to see something wrong with it.

“Yes, fix it,” She said, walking toward her bunk. “You cannot say to me with sincerity that you enjoy sleeping in a room where hundreds can watch you sleep!”

“In all honesty, Jen,” I said, exasperated. “I just took it to be part of the punishment.”

“You’re being punished are you?” She snickered. “Then why do you like it?”

“I…I don’t know if I like it,” I lied.

“Oh! That’s so then is it?” She turned to me and grinned. “Then why do you not protest? Why not refuse?”

“Jen, I would be sent to prison,” I pointed out to her incredulously.

“Mphm,” She said, folding her arms and maintaining her grin. I didn’t like it. “Do y’know, little Lyra, how many men would tarry in prison before they were seen in a dress?”

My jaw dropped and my cheeks burned. She looked back at me with an expression pure joy; it was probably the first time I’d ever seen her smile.

“You oughtn’t lie to me,” She lectured, tapping the tip of my nose with her index finger. “We’re girls, the both of us. I know another girl when I lay my eyes on her, and you, little Lyra, are a girl.”

I followed her wordlessly to her bumk, too stunned to protest or make any sort of idle conversation. She was right, and I had no ground to stand on. Back at her bunk, I saw a hard case, almost a tiny suitcase, but perhaps twelve inches in length and five deep. It was blue in color and secured with a gold clasp. Atop the case was a note that simply said: “For Jenise”.

“What is that?” I looked at the note in confusion.

“T’would be the cosmetics they sent for you,” She explained.

“Not that,” I corrected myself. “The name….on the case.”

“That’s my name?” She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“It is?”

“Yes, ‘tis!” She shook her head. “Whose name would it be otherways?”

“I…that’s not how it’s pronounced…at all,” I looked to her, utterly confounded. “It’s pronounced ‘Yan’, or ‘Yanise’.”

“Lyra, I’m Zlitian, do you see my skin? White as snow, it is to your eyes, no?”

“I…yes,” I suddenly felt very, very stupid.

“Sit down,” She snickered. “Pay close mind to how I do this, you’ll need to do for yourself soon.”

I tried my best to follow her every move as she used the cosmetics on my face; a thin layer of cream on the entirety of my face, followed by another, and then smaller touchups throughout. Finally, she used a wide brush to dust my face. When she was finished, she pulled a mirror from the case and held it up to my face. I gasped audibly as someone new stared back at me. A new person, but not a stranger.

“Jen…” I began to speak, but my lower lip began to tremble as I tried to hold back tears. “I…”

“My father,” She said. “He always said to me that people are a lot different on the inside than they are the out. Mayhaps they’re kind, or they’re compassionate, but they keep it buried deep down so’s people don’t take advantage of them. Sometimes a person spends so long keepin’ themselves buried, that bringing the inside to the out is a task that even the Goddess can’t do. It’s your day I ‘spose to find yourself.”

There were no words; nothing I could have said would have been adequate. In that moment I dropped all of my inhibitions, all of my ‘male’ conditioning, everything that I had been guarding to keep up the facade, and hugged her. I practically lept across the bunk and wrapped my arms around her. She returned the hug, drawing me close to her. For a moment all was right with the world; all of my problems melted away in that one single moment as the warmth of her body enraptured my very being.

“It’s okay, little Lyra,” She patted my back. “You’re just doing some growing is all.”

She allowed me to sit there for a few moments with my face buried in her shoulder before drawing away and placing her had against my cheek. She smiled and nodded. “You’ll do well, Lyra, things will be okay.”

“Thank you,” I smiled. For the first time, I actually felt like Lyra, like I wasn’t just someone who was pretending. “So I…do you use cosmetics a lot? You did so well on my face.”

“Ah, no, I would say not,” She shook her head. “My father owns a farm in Zlitia, out in the border territory, I’m afraid I spent my days tending to the fields. There’s not much opportunity for service thereabouts.”

“Wait, you wanted to do this?” I frowned and shook my head. “Why? Why would you want to serve others? Why wouldn’t you want to serve yourself?”

“Different people experience fulfillment in many different ways,” She explained. “‘sides, the pay is good.”

“You’re paid for this?”

“Of course,” She rolled her eyes. “Y’can’t ‘spect people to work for nothing. Of course, I know well how it works in Axock.”

“I think I like it better here,” I sighed.

“It would be as well if you did.”

I offered nothing but a soft exhale as my thoughts wandered to home where my father was likely taking his morning meal to be followed by extensive reports on the state of the kingdom, and the realm. I wondered if his thoughts would be with me, or if they would remain with Robin and the rest of Axock. I had not heard word from him in the days since I’d arrived here at Klocby but in many ways, that wasn’t unusual. He did tend to become lost in his work. It was just as well, perhaps; how would he feel if he caught wind of what I was doing here? What were the chances that he’d taken word of it already?

“Is all well?” Sheena asked. I looked away from Jen to see her standing a few bunks away, looking at the two of us.

“‘Tis fine,” Jen assured her. “I painted her face, how do you find it?”

Sheena approached me slowly, squinting and discerning as she inspected Jen’s handiwork. She laid her hand on my cheek and turned my head, checking each side, and then finally stood back.

“How do you feel, Lyra?” She asked me. Jen scooted back on the mattress and watched me closely.

“It’s okay,” I told her, looking down almost immediately. As soon as I did, I felt her hand beneath my chin, tilting my head upward until my eyes met hers.

“Lyra, what do you fear?” She asked me softly. I didn’t have an answer for that, at least not one that I could vocalize. “Is it then, that you have been taught to discard your feelings for the things you love the most so that they will not be taken from you?”

My face went red as the truth of her words hurt me; it was the very first time anyone had vocalized that sentiment and it hurt.

“It is only us here,” She said to me. Her voice was soft and comforting but it carried an authority that I couldn’t deny. The softness in her eyes and the gentle but commanding tone of her voice made it feel as if her and I were the only ones in the room. “so, be true to yourself, this time, and every time after. No one will judge, no one will take your happiness.”

“I…I like it,” I admitted at the level of a whisper.

“Do you.”

“Thank you for helping me,” It was all I could manage to say. I wanted to shout, to laugh, to jump for joy, but for the moment, this was the best I could do. A look of understanding crossed her face and she lowered her hand.

“This,” She said, using her hand to indicate the entirety of the dorm, or perhaps the manse. “is a place of work. But, it is also a place of joy, a place of happiness, and sometimes sorrow. We are not in Axock. The servants do not wear iron collars, and they do not sleep behind locked doors. Our hands are not severed for minor indiscretions, we do not feel sorrow in our work. Do you understand?”

I nodded silently, almost too embarrassed to speak and feeling more timid than I had in my entire life. Days before I had come here with a sense of arrogance, knowing that my noble blood placed me above her and every other servant here whether they knew it or now, but now, as she stood over me and spoke her gentle words, I understood that I was Lyra, and Lyra was no one. My shell had been cracked and all that I was now, or ever was in the past was lying on the floor, exposed for all to see.

“I know who you are,” She told me. “And I know who you were. Who do you want to be, Lyra? The son of a tyrant who tortures and maims at his whim, set on the same path as your father, or do you want to be Lyra?”

She was asking me to abandon my entire idenity, to become something new, but who was that?

“You need not answer now,” She smiled. “Only know that your options are open. Jen, take her to the dining hall to assist with the preparations. Be happy today, Lyra. Do not borrow the worries of tomorrow.”

“Yes, First Girl,” I said as Jen gestured for me to stand and follow her.

I walked alongside Jen away from the dorm, up the stairs, and through the hexagon until we crossed the skybridge. Just beyond the glass, the city of Klocby stretched out to the wall. Overhead, massive dirigibles cris crossed the airspace above the city, leaving the walls behind, docking at one of the many spires tucked within the winding and varied metropolis of slate roofs and gothic architecture.

“Here we are,” Jen pointed to a door ahead. We passed through a small kitchen area and then emerged into a large open space filled with round tables and oak chairs. “This is the presentation room, ‘tis rarely used.”

“Tis true,” Elric said, as he walked through spaces between the tables, carrying a tray of empty crystal champagne flutes. “But the High Lady has called a sumit, and our days are sure to be filled.”

“A summit?” Jen gasped. “Surely not!”

“With many of the High Lords and Ladies in attendance,” Elric confirmed. “I suspect it is to do with the Hybra. In any case, off to work with you two.”

As Elric left us, another girl in gray strode over from across the room.

“And what’s this?” She demanded. “A summit has been called and ye stand about like it’s a holiday! My merciful Goddess is that Lyra?”

“It is, Preceptor,” Jen said. The girl stepped closer and looked me over, then shrugged.

“Well, pretty or not,” The girl said. “there is aught to be done around here. You, girl, what have you been doing all day?”

She suddenly pulled me away, toward the back of the hall where several other servants were milling about, scrubbing the heavy oak tables, sweeping the floors, placing arrangements. Jen didn’t try to stop her; I craned my neck back, horrified to be seaprated from her but I watched her turn and walk toward a different task.

“Come come,” The girl said to me. “My name is Penya, but you may call me Preceptor Bacchus. We’ll start you out on the fireplace, why there must be an inch of soot on the grate!”

She was exaggerating about the amount of soot, but even so, after a few minutes of scrubbing with a wire pad, my arm began to ache and my knees hurt from the kneeling against the brick apron that preceded the fireplace. Nonetheless, I continued to scrub, stealing glances at the rest of the room. I watched Sheena enter from the kitchen with Kayla and leave through another door while dozens of servants hustled to complete various tasks. I was just one among many but I still felt as if I stood out more than I should. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed High Lady Jenwise and her Myria enter through a side door. The High Lady pointed to a tapestry and began to explain something to Myria. I sighed, remember that just over a week ago I could have been this woman’s equal. Just as I turned back to my task, the silence was broken by the sound of the main doors slamming open, and a male servant in black dashed breathlessly to the center of the room.

“High Lady Jenwise!” He gasped. “The Baron Sycronus of Foport Minor wishes an audience with you! It is urgent, my Lady!”

After the outburst in the presentation hall, work resumed as normal and despite my occasional eavesdropping, I never did find out what the Baron Sycronus wanted, or what could have been so urgent. The most frustrating thing about my new life was the lack of information; no one wanted to talk to me unless it was regarding work around the manse or the grounds. I was well aware that servants had their own information networks, but as the newly minted outcast, I did not have the privilege of that information and spent much of my time in isolation, other than Jen occasionally checking in on me. Three days had passed since that day in the hall, and now I found myself, as per always, on hands and knees scrubbing the grime from a copper waste basin. My arm throbbed with the back and forth motion and likewise, my legs were covered in blotchy purple and red bruises.

“What might it take,” I muttered. “to get a pair of pants!”

It occurred to me then that I hadn’t worn trousers since the first day I’d arrived, and I wasn’t likely to any time in the near future. It also occurred to me, however, that had I kept my mouth shut, I would now be dressed as a male while watching the female servants longingly from afar. It was a vicious cycle but I tried to convince myself that my decision had been right.

I stood and stepped away from the basin, dropping my rag on the cart and pushing it out of the latrine. Once in the hall I found myself assaulted by a blast of cold, manufactured air which was a welcome change from the hot stuffiness inside the restroom. I took a deep breath and stepped to the window, looking out over the campus. Finally, I walked a short distance down the hall and pressed the button to release the door to the call box. Inside, a gray metal handset was attached to a golden mesh speaker adorned with a row of switches, each one numbered. I took the handset and held it to my ear, then flipped the bottom-most switch four times. It took a moment, but the line crackled to life with a burst of static and then a faint voice on the other end spoke through the handset.

“Environmental dispatch, Sector Seven, proceed,” The voice on the other end said.

“This is…um…hello,” I said nervously into the speaker. I still hadn’t gotten the hang of using the thing.

“State your name,” The exasperated voice on the other end said.

“Hello, I’m Lyra,” I said.

“Lyra how many times are you going to do this?” The voice demanded. “When you pick use the talky, say your name, say the room you’re assigned to clean, and say finished, or issue.”

“Oh, I’m uh…I’m really sorry,” I said. “I’m just not used to-”

“Lyra!”

“Oh! I uh…room Six Eight Nine Three, Building Seven, west side! It’s a latrine!”

“Lyra we know it’s a latrine. Is it finished?”

“Yes!” I said triumphantly. “I did it!”

“You’re late, Lyra,” The voice said, clearly irritated. “First Girl Sheena requests your presence in the parcel room on level 4-8 by the beast, do not keep her waiting.”

The line went dead and I hung it up my fingers shaking. Talky boxes were a new invention and while they had been implemented at Axock palace, they often either never worked, or were simply broken. Now that I had the opportunity to use one, I always found myself terrified of whom I might find on the other end.

I closed the call box and stepped back to my cart, rolling it across the bridge.

“Do you remember me?” A voice called out from the shadows, causing me to freeze in place and search the nook at the end of the bridge, my head on a swivel until I spotted her. She was a girl slightly shorter than me with messy red hair, a gray service uniform. She stepped forward from the tiny nook, hands in a fist, knuckles white at her sides.

“I…I’m sorry,” I said, backing away a bit. “I don’t know you.”

“Don’t ye? Master Micah Lavoric? Heir to the Lavoric fortune? Don’t ye remember my face? Search your memory, ‘girl’.”

I bumped into my cart, nearly knocking it over. She knew who I was. She knew my name. I bit my lip, eyes darting back and forth as I tried to plan an escape.

“Don’t matter where you go,” She said. “This is a small place, I’ll find you, and you’ll pay for what you did.”

“I’m sorry…” I said, shaking. “What did I do? Where you the one who handed me the note?”

“That’s right,” She said. “And I’ll give you a lot more than that. You’ll mind your back, because I aim to kill you, Lavoric.”

Before I could respond, she stepped forward, placed both of her hands on me, and gave me a solid shove; I stumbled backward and collided with the wall as she stormed off, down the bridge, leaving me to wonder who she was, what she wanted, and what I’d done to her.

I collected myself and rolled the cart to the nearest utility closet. Leaving it, I made haste to the parcel room where I found Sheena standing at a long table, pouring over a stack of papers. The room was fairly large and filled with five long tables, each stacked with pieces of mail, from letters, to packages, and so on. At the rear-most tables, there were girls sorting through the packages, tossing them into bins and chatting amongst themselves. Along the walls, a line of open cubbies crafted from brass containing parcels, and at the very back of the room, banks of pneumatic tubes hummed and clanked, dropping packages into wire baskets just below their mouths.

“First girl, you asked to see me?” I was surprised at how easily the honorifics were rolling off my tongue. There was a slight terror at sitting at the back of my mind as I realized just how quickly and easily I was settling into this new role; almost as if I were born for it.

“Well aren’t you just a proper little thing?” She said without looking up. “They said you were late on the last three assignments. Work’s too hard for you, then?”

“No, First Girl,” I said, standing ramrod straight with my hands folded in front of me; the proper position of respect.

“Your legs,” She glanced over to me before returning her attention to the stack of papers. “You take to bruising easily.”

“Yes, First Girl.”

“Well, naught to do about it, I suppose,” She shrugged. “It is an unspoken agreement that you’ll do the work that’s worst before you see anything of ease, however, I do have a special assignment for you, this day.”

“Sheena!” Kayla appeared from the back, rushing past a table of unsorted parcels and shoving another stack of paper down onto the table. “The schedulers, they put four servants to the same task!”

“Unfortunate,” Sheena replied. “How long until they find us?”

“The schedulers, or the servants?”

“Either, I suppose,” Sheena shrugged. “In any case, Lyra, I find myself short on couriers this day. Do you now where to find the eastern power generator?”

“Yes First Girl,” I nodded. “Past the gullie and under the cog.”

“She calls it the gullie, you owe me a shilling,” Kaya piped up, her voice nearly devoid of emotion. Sheena groaned.

“Carry this parcel to the generator, ask for Parsifal,” Sheena plucked a brown string-wrapped package from the table and pushed it into my arms, I latched onto it before she managed to push me over.

“What is it?” I asked, she paused and looked over to me, her expression blank.

“Mind your own,” She said, returning her attention to the stack of papers in front of her.

“First girl-”

“Lyra, I am quite busy right now, if you need to talk then we can-”

“A servant girl wants to kill me, First girl,” I blurted out, cutting her off mid-sentence. She looked over to Kayla who shrugged and then peered at me inquisitively.

“Describe her,” Sheena demanded.

“Red of hair, freckled, pale, shorter than me,” I offered.

“Sage?” Kayla suggested.

“Seems most like,” Sheena agreed. “Deliver the parcel, mind you don’t get killed along the way.”

I went from the parcel room and walked through the hall, back toward the octagon, taking the right-most hallway and plunging down from the warm wood-paneled walls of the upper floors, to a cold green cinderblock nightmare that reeked of moisture and dampness. The staircase wound around one more time and ended in a riveted steel door that I pushed aside with some difficulty, and then I emerged into a long brick hallway lined with copper pipes overhead and along the left wall. The passage was large enough for me to pass through and for the first fifty feet or so, the space was pitch black with just the scent of mold and the dripping of water against the concrete floor to keep me company.

Both Jen and Sheena had warned me against coming down here; it was a shortcut from ‘The Vice’ to the eastern corridor, which was a stretch because the ‘corridor’ was a brick walkway flanked on either side by planters, ultimately leading to the far east where one could find the power plant, laundry, dry cleaning, and a plethora of other industries that ultimately served to support the palace. Though this was a suitable shortcut, Jen has expressed concerns that I might hit my head on the pipes, lose conciousness and starve to death before I were ever found. The idea was ludicrous, of course, but some of the pipes were low hanging.

After several minutes of walking, I rounded a corner and stepped through another steel door, onto a landing that dropped down into a greenhouse. I passed through the rows of plants and greenery until I finally exited through a glass door and took a set of steps down to the corridor. To my left, rows and rows of roses were planted, blue and white, arranged in the customary color scheme of House Jenwise. On my right, a hedge wall that was normally silent, but today I could hear the sounds of laughter behind along with the ‘thud’ of ParDar sticks thudding against a thick leather ball. ParDar was a game nobles played, and it finally occurred to me that the practice field must be on the other side of the hedge wall.

I walked along the wall, the sounds of the scrimmage game floating over the hedges as I tried to avoid thinking about the game. I had played it before; actually it was something I once enjoyed. Would I ever enjoy it again?

My thoughts continued to wander as I passed by a gap in the hedge and was hit squarely in the head with the leather ParDar ball. I let out a screech as my vision blacked and I lost my feet. When my vision cleared, I almost screamed again.

“Girl!” A blonde man in ParDar gear was kneeling next to me; he had a white complexion and sandy blonde hair tussled by the leather ParDar headgear he’d likely been wearing a moment ago. “Are you quite alright?”

My stifled scream came not from his presence, but the fact that I knew him. This was Lord Radon, or rather Duke Radon of Oniodale. He was younger than Lady Jenwise, twenty-one if I remembered correctly - and I did. He had ascended to the throne of Oniodale his father had been lost at the siege of Ineburn - a military action that some saw as unnecessary, but I’d always respected the show of force. Now he ruled Oniodale and its border had been moved just east of Ineburn to complete the annexation. His present location, however, was over top of me, staring down with his mesmerizing blue eyes that I’d found myself lost in more than once.

“I uh…I’m fine!” I said as quickly as possible, doing my best to speak in a high pitched tone of voice.

“Are you quite certain?” He asked me, shifting his wooden ParDar stick to the other hand. “You took quite a tumble there! Surely you’ll need your head tended to, as well as the rest of you I would say.”

By now, a crowd of nobles was gathering just beyond the gap, murmuring to themselves. I recognized many of them, but hopefully they didn’t recognize me.

I nodded and stood, immediately staggering from dizziness. Lord Radon stood and took me by the shoulders, steadying me before I fell backward, or forward.

“My name,” He said. “Is Lord Jared Radon, Duke of Oniodale; might I offer you the services of my personal physician?”

I shook my head violently; not only had I fallen completely into the role that I’d been assigned, I simply did not want him to recognize me. Then, he caught a glimpse of my face and in spite of the well-contoured makeup I’d applied myself this morning under Jen’s supervision, I saw a look of recognition form, and then a widening of his eyes. I froze, unable to look away as he stood there trying to work it out in his head. Finally, he turned about and faced the growing crowd of nobles.

“Return to your game,” He told them abruptly. “I will see to the servant girl.”

The crowd disbanded, leaving myself and Lord Radon to stand just before the hedge gap. He spoke first.

“I heard that your father had you sent off,” He said. “I did not think he would send you to Klocby.”

“I wanted to be as far away as possible,” I told him, speaking in a hushed tone but not attempting to alter my voice. He nodded.

“And are you happy?”

I nodded, swallowing as he continued to study me.

“It does suit you,” He said, almost approvingly. I blushed.

“Thank you my Lord,” I said. He cocked his head.

“You’ve never used honorifics with me before, and you stand in a position of respect. Tell me then, did the High Lady invoke the Bodgett clause?”

“Bodgett clause, My Lord?” I frowned. He gave me a look of pure exasperation.

“You know, what I am asking, Lord Lavoric,” He said sternly. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, My Lord,” I said. “I am as common as any of them from now to the end of my sentence.”

“I see,” He nodded. “Carry on with your duties then, girl, and do have your head examined; I know you cannot see my personal physician, for reasons beyond obvious.”

“Yes, My Lord,” I curtsied and began to walk, but the stopped and turned to him. “My Lord, you will not speak of this to my father?”

“Girl, no one wants to speak to your father, but tell me your name.”

“I…my name is Lyra.”

“Lyra,” He nodded. “A fitting name, I suppose. Be off with you then. Oh, and Lyra?”

“Yes, My Lord?”

“I should like to see you again.

“Lyra you’re scrubbin’ it, not resurfacing it! Goddess be good, move on!” Sophia said from overhead. We were in the servant kitchen, just outside the large dining room; our preceptor felt that it had been neglected in the past few days thanks to the summit preparation, so I, and several other girls, had spent the first part of the morning scrubbing the tops, bottoms, and sides of every single table. After that, we’d moved the tables, mopped and waxed the floors, wiped down the walls, and even dusted the rafters using a set of long ladders that I didn’t even know we had. Now I sat on hands and knees, sponge in hand, scrubbing at the kitchen floor like it was my only job. I had no idea how long I’d been doing it, I just knew that the more I scrubbed, the more I was able to forget the world around me. I concentrated on the black slate floor, my sponge wiping back and forth, back and forth, side to side. Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing; soap suds sloshing as my dress drenched with sweat and my bangs dropped onto my forehead, coming loose from the tie. I wanted to forget about everything, especially the encounter with Lord Radon. He’d seen me, he knew who I was. Who would he tell? Who would they tell? How long before word reached my father? No, I couldn’t think about it; I had to scrub.

“Lyra!” Miah suddenly walked over; from the corner of my eye I could see her black slippers and I could practically sense her hands lying on her hips as she glared down at me. “‘Tis enough, come on!”

“Ellie spilled that oil,” I argued. “We can’t let it stain!”

“Lyra,” Jen shouted from across the kitchen. “‘tis slate! T’would take more than a little red cooking oil to give it stain!”

“Ought be on to something else,” Sophia advised me. “Sheena’s on the warpath today, seein’ as her day off’s been cancelled thanks in full to the Summit.”

I stopped scrubbing and looked up to Sophia.

“We get days off?”

“Once a fortnite we take a weekend, every week we take one day, so it staggers, y’see, that way there’s plenty of staff no matter whose off,” Miah said.

“Hold on,” I stopped up, sponge dripping onto the floor. “I haven’t had a day off since I got here!”

“You ought take that up with Sheena then,” Sophia advised me.

“Mayhap not today,” Jen warned. “Saw her rip a talky out of the wall, I did.”

“And whose to fix that?” Sophia laughed.

“One of Elric’s boys, I’d say,” Jen said. “They handle all the maintaining. We just do the cookin’ and cleanin’”

“Laundry too!” Sophia said.

“And the planting!” Another girl piped up.

“This place would fall apart without us doin’ the women’s work,” Miah said as she snatched the sponge out of my hand and dropped it into the bucket.

“Why, do my ears hear you poking fun at your First Girl?” Elric’s voice boomed from the doorway. A few of the girls tensed and assumed the position of respect, while others simply rolled their eyes. Jen grinned as Elric walked in, followed by three other boys dressed in their work uniforms rather than the typical black suit jacket and white shirt.

“Elric!” One of the girls scolded. “The kitchen is women’s work! If you keep this on then you may as well be like Lyra and prance about in a dress!”

My ears burned immediately as a few of the girls looked my way and giggled. Elric waved a finger in the air and stepped toward one of the preparation tables.

“But you see,” He said in his thick Elopsian accent. “Lyra is a girl, and I am not.”

I wanted to smile but the weight of judgement was still far too heavy on me. I could feel a few of the girls watching me, and I was more than aware that many were still unsure of me.

“What shall it be today, Elric?” Jen grinned.

“Today,” He said. “is a very special day, you will taste a concoction of my very own, the likes of which your tongues have never seen!”

“I think perhaps tongue doesn’t have eyes,” Sophia chided, the other girls laughed.

“Perhaps that is true,” Elric admitted. “Lyra, I have a request of you!”

My ears perked up and I looked across the station wide eyed as Elric looked at me with the biggest grin plastered across his face.

“Yes…First…er…I…”

“First Boy is fine,” He said. “I never minded being called boy, though tis a bit insulting for one my age I suppose. Though if they didn’t tell you, it’s First Butler.”

I didn’t know Elric’s exact age, but I put him somewhere around twenty-five.

“Yes…first Butler,” I said nervously.

“But, they all,” Elric waved his hand. “Call me Elric.”

I was so confused.

“Now,” He said. “You are going to assist me, are you prepared?”

“I…I guess,” I stammered.

“Then, Lyra,” He grinned, reaching below the counter and pulling out a massive round pan. “Make us some dough.”

A few of the girls gasped, but Jen looked back at me almost knowingly.

“Elric,” One of the girls said. “We never let her do aught with the food! She can look like one of us, but she ain’t had the training! Best to keep her where she belongs!”

“Scrubbing the floor’s where she belongs,” Another girl said; the others murmured in agreement.

“Lyra?” Elric held the pan out to me, I backed up a little, bumping into the wash basin behind me. “Come now, you can’t hide your talents forever!”

“What talents?” One girl laughed. “Have you seen her?”

“Lyra,” Elric said. “Consider this an order, from your First Boy.”

“You mean First Butler,” I suggested, grinning slightly. He laughed.

“What is it I hear you all whispering behind her back?” Elric asked, looking around the room. “That she cannot learn? that she is clumsy? Come now, I know one of you said it,” He looked at one girl in particular who rolled her eyes. “Come, Lyra.”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, reaching a timid hand out to take the pan. Once it was in my hand, he gestured toward the glass cabinet where the majority of the ingredients were kept. As I walked toward it, he began to speak again.

“Now, as Lyra makes us a nice dough, I shall show you the proper way to season these ingredients. I shall need yark’s breast, a length of sausage, goat’s cheese…”

He continued a long list of ingredients as I carefully took the proper ingredients for the dough from the cabinet. My hands shook and my breathing elevated; why was I so afraid? Two weeks ago I would have considered these people to be beneath me but now I feared them in so many ways.

“Let it rest and add the flour before the salt,” I heard my sister’s voice in my head as I recalled a memory from years back. “You add the salt too soon, then the yeast dies. Just like a full third of father’s servants each year.”

Sugar, warm water, salt, the ingredients danced about in my mind as my hands worked automatically, the dough formed, and when I’d finished, I had a perfectly good lump of it sitting in the metal pan that Elric had handed me. The other boys were busy chopping ingredients and stirring on the stove. The girls gaped at me, apart from Jen who smiled and nodded.

“How is that possible?” One of the girls demanded.

“You see,” Elric said, taking the pan from me. “I am not the only male who has done women’s work!”

“Lyra,” Kayla said, standing in the door of the kitchen. “Come, now.”

I looked to Elric who shrugged, and then I followed Kayla into the dining room. We walked toward the door at a steady pace.

“I am sorry,” She said. “Elric performs outright miracles in the kitchen, I shall arrange for you to have a plate later.”

“Where are we going?” I asked; if I’d had an appetite before, it was certainly gone now.

“The High Lady has requested your presence,” She said matter of factly. I gulped and slowed my pace, but then quickened it to match Kayla’s.

“Did…she say why?” I asked, but Kayla didn’t answer. “Kayla?”

“Lyra,” She looked over at me. “I am a First Preceptor. How would you address Sheena?”

“Yes…First Preceptor,” We continued to walk, down the hallway, passing through the octagon and ducking into a side passage that went at a steady downward incline until we reached the main concourse on the second floor.

“Shortcut,” Kayla said, turning right and pushing her way through a swinging door. A blast of warm air slammed into me as we entered a room filled with machinery. Brass silos and furnaces, along with what appeared to be thousands of brass, steel, and lead conduits leading from them, across the room, and in every direction. The sudden clanging and the hiss of steam was almost too much to bear, and hearing Kayla’s voice over them was a chore. “Watch your head, duck here, care not to hurt yourself.”

I ducked down as far as I could, nearly cramping even as Kayla seemed to do it naturally as we emerged from the other end of a brief tunnel formed by overhead pipes and machinery.

“Kayla! What are you doing here?” A faint male voice shouted over the roar of the machinery. I looked in the direction and saw a man dressed in dark brown, heavily stained coveralls holding a wrench. It was Parsifal, the man I had delivered the package to the other day. He was an older man, perhaps in his thirties sporting a black mustache and a head of curly hair. He eyed Kayla curiously. “This area, ‘tis restricted, don’t you know?”

“‘Tis also the fastest way back to the palace!” Kayla informed him, loudly. “The High Lady requests her presence!”

“The High Lady wouldn’t take kindly much to her scaldin’ her face on a pipe, or do you think? Word out is she’s clumsy as all!”

“‘Tis true enough!” Kayla shouted. “But you can see her there whole an’ whole if but a bit frightened!”

“‘Tis true,” He nodded. “Mind you’re careful on the way out!”

We left Parsifal behind and existed the building, walking past the ParDar field and eventually ended up on the concourse to the palace.

“The last time you passed into the High Lady’s chambers you were on equal ground with her, by and by,” Kayla told me, keeping up her brisk pace. “Now you’ll pay close mind to me. You step foot in there, you step forward, six paces, you curtsey, and then you say ‘Greetings High Lady, I am present as requested’, and then you’ll hold that curtsey ‘till such time as tells you to rise. Do this wrong, or not at all, and Sheena’s like to flog you. And I’m like to watch, now say it back.”

I repeated it back to her and she nodded with approval as we rounded a corner.

“And you bear in mind, as well as you know anyway, she’s the High Lady through and through but you’re addressing a Duchess. Show the proper respect and expect none in return.”

“Yes, First Preceptor,” I said as we reached the door to the High Lady’s office. I took a deep breath as she placed her hand on the door level and turned it. The last time I’d stood outside this door, waiting to see the High Lady Jenwise, I’d made a decision. A lump had formed in my throat, and I’d felt an immense pressure building in my chest. My heart beat heavily, and my apprehension grew. I convinced myself to back out and then convinced myself to proceed dozens of times in a matter of minutes and somehow I had managed to walk into her chambers resolved. Today was a different matter; it had been a mere two weeks, but I was no longer the person that had come here. I still clung to the shreds of my former identity, but who was I now? Was I Micah? Was I Lyra? Was I a combination of the two? These thoughts and more hurtled through my conciousness as I passed through the doors in Kayla’s tow. The High Lady Jenwise stood in front of her desk, Sheena at her side. She looked different. There was something much more regal about her; she was almost radiant. I took the six steps and then performed the curtsy, careful lot to stumble though my body trembled.

“Greetings, High Lady,” My voice cracked. “I am p…I…I am present as requested.”

“Rise, Lyra,” She said quickly, and I was relieved that I did not have to hold the curtsey. “Come forward. Kayla, you may return to your duties.”

“Yes High Lady,” Kayla said, turning to leave.

I stepped forward cautiously and nearly tore out of my skin when I noticed Lord Radon in the shadows, leaned on a pillar with leg bent, foot against it and his arms crossed.

“Lord Radon!” I gasped. “I’m sorry I did not see-”

“You may dispense with the pleasantries, Lyra,” He said, pushing away from the pillar and stepping forward. “and it’s High Lord. I am a Duke, after all.”

“Yes High Lord,” I said apologetically. He shook his head as if in disbelief of the situation.

“Now then, Lyra,” High Lady Jenwise said. “take tea with us.”

The High Lady gestured to a round pedestal table with intricate leg carvings standing in the dim light of an overhead lamp. The table was set with a silver platter upon which there were four silver teacups and a silver kettle. Apart from the tea, there were slices of toasted bread, miniature sandwiches, dipping sauces, sugar cubes, kishtrate cubes, and salt extract. I froze in place, which prompted Sheena to place her hand on my back and guide me to the table. It was embarrassing; we were simply taking tea, something I’d done perhaps a million times. Why was I freezing up? Why the hesitation? What was wrong with me?

Lord Radon sat on the opposite end while Sheena and the High Lady sat on either side of me.

“How do you take your tea, Lyra?” The High Lady asked me.

“I…plain is fine, High Lady,” I said softly, taking care not to speak too loudly.

“I doubt that,” The High Lady smiled. “Your apprehension is unwarranted, but your respect is appreciated.”

“She takes her tea with kishtrate, and salt,” Lord Radon said helpfully. He wasn’t wrong.

“I-” I began to interject, but stopped short of saying anything.

“Yes, Lyra?” Sheena looked at me encouragingly.

“I think…I…I think I will take it with sugar,” I said, opting for a more feminine custom. The High Lady smiled and Sheena nodded as she poured the cup for me and passed the bowl of sugar cubes.

“To business then,” The Highly Lady said as Sheena passed me a small plate with a sandwich. “Sheena reports that you have been doing very well, and have been a valuable addition to the household, if but a bit clumsy.”

“Thank you High Lady,” I timidly sipped the tea and set the cup down as Lord Radon practically swallowed a sandwich whole.

“How have you found your role here? Is it what you expected?”

“Not exactly, High Lady,” I admitted. “It has been…difficult but…”

“And do you have regrets?” She asked me. “Have you had second thoughts about your decision?”

“No, High Lady,” I lied.

“The truth, please,” She sipped her tea and Sheena raised an eyebrow at me.

“Sometimes, High Lady,” I admitted. “but this feels right.”

“It seems to suit you,” The High Lady nodded. “and if you have felt challenged, it is because Sheena has performed her duty admirably. You made a choice, an unusual one at that, well, downright unheard of if we’re going to get into it, and it has been Sheena’s charge to push you to the very limits of that choice, to give you a better understanding of the path you had chosen.”

“Yes, High Lady,” I said. “Thank you High Lady.”

“You have not reached the extremity of it yet, but you will, and you will know when the day has come, I promise you that. Which, of course, brings us to the matter at hand. Lord Radon?”

“Indeed,” Lord Radon gulped down a piece of sandwich, washing it down with hot tea before speaking to me. “You know well of your father and his tendencies, Lyra. And so you know that we must harbor every strategic advantage against him in order to maintain the tense peace that we’ve held the the past thirty years. Now, with that on the table, I must put forth a very blunt statement. You, Lyra, know what the Stormveil is.”

“My Lord?” I tensed, looking at him cautiously. His expression was stoic, unwavering. He knew.

“To find you here, Lyra, in this place, in your condition, that is a stroke of luck and it is one that I will not turn my back upon. I know of your father’s expedition two years ago, and though we were, and are still allies, he would never share the results. I know, however, that you were there, Lyra. I wish to know what it is you saw that day.”

There was no denying it, and here, at this table, in this room, there was no way to avoid what was coming.

“Lyra, I have afforded you many opportunities for choices in your training,” Sheena said to me, suddenly placing her hand on mine. “but in this you are not given a choice. You will speak, and you will speak true.”

“What, Lyra, did you see inside the Stormveil?”

1 Year 8 Months Ago

“I do not like this, Balthasar,” I stole a glance at the aging soldier beside me. My father’s right hand man in many aspects. He grunted as we peered out over the bow of the ship, at the Stormveil painted against the horizon. We were close enough now that I could feel the vibration in the deck beneath my feet; a terrifying reminder of the looming death just over the mountain.

“If you fear death, then perhaps you should have stayed home, little Lord,” Commander Balthasar Hammond said it almost mockingly. I grunted.

“My father would not have me miss it,” I laughed. “Even if I should come home in a sack.”

“Stephen always did go to extremes, but a righteous man he is,” Balthasar said. I cringed at hearing my father’s first name; it was a familiarity that I had never been afforded. “In truth, such as it is, the Mah’Kur are responsible for this ridiculousness. Had they accepted your father’s offer-”

“The Mah’Kur have suffered no Axian to cross the Stormveil in thirty years,” I cut him off quite rudely. “There should have been no expectation that they would have opened the gates for us. He is my father, but he assumes too much sometimes.”

“This is true,” The hulk of a man said, grunting and scratching his chin. “His authority carries him far within the realm of Axock but where it concerns the Mah’Kur, well.”

The memory was still fresh in my mind, that day my father and I had rode our airship into the sprawling city of Hybra. We stood inside the great hall, before the faceless figures draped in velvet cloth and listened to their verdict.

“In the face of the atrocities committed in the Lavoric name, the Mockreet will not permit you to pass.”

I don’t know which one of them had said it; I couldn’t even be sure that there had been a physical voice. Their words seemed to be an echo of the mind, weighted with authority, unshakable. What were the Mah’Kur? How had they created the Stormveil seemingly overnight? Some said they were gods, but I wished I could subscribe to a more scientific explanation - if there was one.

“Are we certain we can do this?” I asked apprehensively as the Stormveil came further into view. Ahead of us, a mountain range rose miles from the ground, the Stormveil stretching out over the summit like an elemental blanket. I could see the torrent of snow, dust, and rock billowing out from the base of the storm, eroding the ancient mountain bit by bit. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped as a celestial warning, a thunderous chorus of impending doom directed at all who may dare to approach.

“My Lord, Master Lavoric!” A soldier in Lavoric black rushed to the bow of the ship, saluting both of us before standing at attention. “We have deployed crawlers, but in my opinion, sir, they cannot withstand the storm!”

“Balthasar?” I looked to the Commander who shook his head. “Topographical reports put the summit at the highest point of the Stormveil, my Lord. Lower air pressure, but the mountain provides cover. We will have a better chance here than in an open field.”

“I agree,” I nodded, turning to the soldier. “Your name, soldier?”

“Fartham Rowan, my Lord!” He said loudly.

I turned about and spotted another guard standing just before the hatch to the lower deck and beckoned for him to join me.

“Soldier!” I shouted to the new man. “This is Corporal Fartham Rowan! He has failed in the execution of his duties! Give him to the storm, give the order that his family is to be summarily executed!”

“Yes, my lord!” The soldier acknowledged.

“But…but my Lord!” Corporal Rowan said in a panicked tone. “We will not survive!”

“No, Corporal!” I shouted. “You will not survive. Thank you for your service to the realm, such as it was, you are no longer needed!”

“A bit extreme, my Lord?” Balthasar said as the stunned soldier was led away.

“There is no room for doubt in my Father’s campaign,” I said with resolution. “He would have done the same in my place.”

“By and by,” Balthasar agreed. “The crawlers will provide a shield as we move further into the mountain, their armor should maintain as we pass through.”

“How much time do we have?”

“An hour, give or take, after we cross the event horizon,” Balthasar stood pointedly at the bow of the ship and defiantly raised his leg resting his foot against the railing as he leaned forward, squinting at the Stormveil three miles away.

“My Lord?” The soldier asked as he returned.

“Give them the order to move, tell the crawlers to deploy their shields. Today we enter the Stormveil.”

Over the bow of the airship, a translucent purple field rose from the crawlers three hundred feet below. The field enveloped us and the roaring wind grew to a dull him. Balthasar placed his cap back on his head and stood straight, still glaring in defience as we edged closer to the storm.

“We cross between the peaks,” Balthasar said. “You can see them, there, masked by the storm but the outline is clear enough. The Stormveil is perhaps a mile deep, if reports are correct.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “ If the crawlers can maintain their shield for long enough.”

“They’ll need repairs on the other side,” He told me. “Elsewise we find ourselves trapped on the other side of the world.”

“And I should like to see the capital again, for certain,” I added.

“As would I, my boy,” He agreed. “Come, let us steer this thing into oblivion as the Gods intended.”

We turned from the bow and crossed the deck, past stationed soldiers and workers alike. A narrow metal stair let us ascend to the flight deck where a broad console of lights, switches, dials and gauges awaited us just behind the gunmetal gray spoked wheel. The deck was closed in by four flex-steel windows, each one built of transparent braided titanium and seven inches thick. Still, even that wouldn’t have have withheld the full force of the storm had we chosen to go without the aid of the crawlers and their enveloping shield.

“Commander on deck!” A soldier shouted, and a shuffle of feet accompanied as each soldier assumed the attention of position.

“Sir!” The skipper said. “Pressure is nominal, our course is clear!”

“Stand aside, Skipper,” I said loudly. “The wheel is mine.”

“Yes sir!” He stepped aside without saluting, as was the custom indoors.

“Tell the crawlers to increase speed to two-thirds,” I told the skipper. He looked at me with an expression of concern.

“We maintain a better shield concentration if we move at one third,” He said. “If we lose integrity-”

“Take this man below and have him flogged,” I snapped to a nearby guard.

“Commander Hammond?” I turned to Balthasar who nodded and stepped forward to pick up the the talky.

“This is airship Jovannivas to Crawler Lead!” His raspy but authoritative voice boomed through the flight deck. “Increase speed to two thirds!”

“Yes Commander!” A voice crackled from the other end. “Message recieved, two thirds, aye! Over!”

I reached beside the wheel and clutched the steel lever, pressing it forward to increase speed. The engines roared behind us, the deck rumbled blow as steam pulsed through brass and lead pipes.

“The Mah’Kur truly believe they are gods,” I laughed. “Today we shall show them, that if there is a God in this wretched world, he sits not on the throne of Hybra, but stands behind the wheel of a steel behemoth! The greatest technology in all of Fadraiye! Today, Balthasar, we are Gods!”

“Mind yourself, young Lord,” Balthasar warned. “Arrogance besets failure.”

“Do you doubt our mission, Balthasar?” I looked away from the wheel and regarded him harshly.

“Would you have me flogged as well, My Lord?” Balthasar raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not, Balthasar!” I laughed. “You are among my oldest friends!”

“My Lord,” He said. “Such an ass as you are, I believe I am your only friend.”

“Status of the fleet?” I called out. A communications officer reported that the other three airships were still in tow and intact, protected by their respective crawlers.

The flight was far slower than I would have liked. An hour or more in, I traded off with Balthasar and walked to the bow once again, standing before the Stormveil as we approached the twin peaks. I glance back and up to Balthasar who nodded to me from behind the glass; I nodded back and then turned the Stormveil to notice that something wasn’t quite right.

We were close now, but I could see small black dots moving away from the storm. I squinted and shook my head, then squinted again.

“Spyglass!” I called out. A brown tube with gold trim made its way to my hand within seconds. I extended the spyglass and peered through it; the dots were most definitely there, and I recognized them. Small airships, skiffs with no flight deck, each one loaded with six of the creatures that I’d known so well. They had no name to my knowledge, but they guarded the throne room at Hybra, and I’d seen them throughout the streets. Six feet tall, inverse legs, razor blades growing from their knees, their elbows, and wrists. Tall and limber, killing machines to the core. I counted the skiffs, one, two, three, four, eight of them, each carrying six of these creatures. I dropped the spyglass and turned to Bathasar - he’d already spotted them.

“Guns forward men!” I shouted. “We are being boarded!”

It started with gunfire; shots fired from aircraft overhead -single man crafts, each one faster and more advanced than anything we had in Axock. I growled as the shells slammed into the shield, sending surges of white through the pink energy field. It rippled like water, each shot damaging the integrity. How had they found us? It was too late to turn back; we were far closer to the Stormveil than we were to the base of the mountain. Up ahead, lightning flashed from within the storm, illuminating more of the skiffs as they broke the event horizon and charged toward us at breakneck speed. The skiffs stopped just before the shield, matching our speed in reverse and waiting as the fighters bombarded the shield. The deck broke into panic, some of them men ran aimlessly while others stood still. There was little to be done; we couldn’t fire the cannons with the shield up, and we couldn’t lower the shield without succumbing to the force of the Stormveil.

We were close now; we’d been in flight for at least two hours and the veil was closer than ever. I could see the jet black particulates ripping through the air a mere hundred feet away; and before me, the might of the storm raged, reaching to the heavens and reaching out for us as if we were prey. The bow of the ship would breach the wall before the shields fell, and I wondered if they could continued to give chase within the storm.

I turned and gave a glance to Balthasar who looked back at me with a stony expression on his face. I looked to the shield; the creatures were tensing, as if thery were preparing to jump. They watched us like hungry predators ready to pounce at any moment. If we didn’t breach the Stormveil, there would be little we could do. Still, we approached it steadily. Yes, we were going to make it.

Then, one of the fighters buzzed past our shield, down below. My eyes widened as I heard the sound of cannon fire.

“They are targeting the crawlers!” I screamed, waving my arms to Balthasar. Did he realize? I broke into a full run, my feet slamming against the deck as I dodged a loose cargo crate, jumped over a dismanted canon, skidded around the side of the wall and hurtled forward onto the narrow stair. The steps rattled in response as I tore up the side of the building, making hasted to the flight deck. I stumbled and fell, colliding with one of the steps and falling backward, my head slamming against a riser. I coughed and forced myself to my feet; the stair was slick with my own blood. I made another effort to climb, this time making it partway with unheard screams of warning tearing my vocal chords as I breathlessly tried to reach the top.

Then it happened. The shield dissipated alongside the horrifying sound of a crawler detonating as a shell tore through it. I gasped, pointlessly wrapping my arms about the rail, expecting the worst, but it never came. No wind, no turbulance. Nothing. I turned and looked at the Stormveil; it was there, mere feet from the bow of the airship, but it emitted no elemental force.

“What?” I said in disbelief as I stood. My awe did not last long, as the creatures lept from the skiffs, taloned feet slamming into the deck as the creature nearest to me let out a primal roar, slashing the air with its jagged wrist blades. I screamed and fell back as a second one closed in; I barely managed to roll out of the way as its talon slammed into the deck, leaving a dent in the shape of its foot. Then, suddenly, the first creature screamed as a blade ripped through its chest, and Balthasar blasted it from behind with his pistol. The creature fell to the ground beside me as Balthasar took on the next one, dodging the wrist blade but taking a swipe as it brough up a knee blade, slicing him across the leg. He took the blow without flinching, swiping the creature’s arm away with his sword and taking the pistol to its chest.

“Run, my Lord!” He shouted in my direction. “You are not suited for this manner of combat!”

In that moment I realized just how useless I was. I’d been trained in swordplay, but what use was it here? I jumped to my feet and rushed up the stairs, leaving Balthasar alone in the fray as several soldiers rushed up the bow and stern of the ship, rifles at the ready. As I mounted the flight deck, I rushed up another set of stairs, hopping onto the roof where I beheld the rest of the fleet - the other four airships. Two had lost their shields, the others were faltering. I gasped as a shell burst through the deck of the Aeter XIV, sending debries and shrapnel flying through the air as the deck of the Omni was assaulted by the creatures. I could hear the screams as the crew was shreded and torn limb from limb, their bodies tossed over the side as their sister ship crashed into the mountain below. The Aeter exploded into a ball of orange fire, debris shot upward for miles, leaving the sky a smoky orange as the other two ships lost their shields and came under fire.

“No,” I whispered. I wasn’t going to die here. I wasn’t, I couldn’t. I was the Lord Micah Lavoric, heir to the throne of Axock - I did not die like this. Ahead of me, one of the creatures roared and I turned as it leaped upward, toward the flight deck. Behind me, a shell shattered the deck as the creature chased me, pursued by a torrent of fire and shrapnel. The ship was coming apart around us, debris filled the air, and the flight deck erupted into a ball of flame as I dived of the edge, plummeting downward toward the bow of the ship that was now beginning to sink. I slammed into the deck, the wind knocked out of me as I collided with the body of a fallen soldier. Balthasar, were was he? No time to worry. I stood and stared into the Stormveil as the ship burned around me. Explosions rocked the deck, my footing faltered and heat scorched my skin as I realized there was only one choice. I took off running, across the flight deck, one foot after the other until I reached the railing. And then I jumped into the Stormveil.

“What happened next?” Lord Radon asked. I looked up from my barely-touched sandwich and tea cup. He was watching me intently, chin rested on his fists while Sheena gave me a completely different expression. Her lip was curled in an expression of disgust, her fists were clenched, knuckles white. I watched her as she glared and my confusion grew.

“Er…” I said, looking away from Sheena and feeling my pulse quicken. “I don’t…I don’t know. I woke up in a field, miles away. Naked, mind you. I walked to the nearest town and-”

“In conclusion,” The High Lady said as she stole a quick glance at Sheena. “We have learned that first of all, the Stormveil is only dangerous upon approach. It may not be a storm at all.”

“An elaborate illusion perchance?” Lord Radon suggested. “And we know that the Duke of Axock has a shielding device that can withstand the winds of the Stormveil.”

“Very important,” The High Lady nodded. “Though you might have opened with that, Lyra.”

“Quite,” Lord Radon agreed. At that point, Sheena slammed a fist on the table, shaking the dishes; spilling Lord Radon’s tea. She threw back her chair, tipping it and allowing it to clatter against the floor. My eyes widened and I looked to the High Lady, expecting her to say something. Instead, she and Lord Radon kept their gaze on me, even as Sheena silently stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

“In any case, Lyra, we appreciate your cooperation,” The High lady said, giving me a smile that was clearly forced. “On to other matters, Lyra, I am short a maid for the Summit tomorrow. In typical fashion you would be in the back, managing the dishes and what have you, but Sheena will need you on the floor, serving.”

“Um…High Lady?” I frowned. “As in…like a butler?”

“Don’t be silly,” She scoffed. “You’re nowhere near that important.”

I breathed a sigh of relief; both of them noticed and the High Lady raised an eyebrow.

“In any case, Lyra,” The High Lady said with exasperation. “Following this meeting you will speak with Sheena. Herself, and my sister will be overseeing your brief training. The Summit is in just two days, and you must understand the protocol for the serving staff. Do pay attention to what she has to tell you, understood?”

“Yes, High Lady,” I nodded; all I could think about was the way that Sheena had stormed from the room. Her chair was still capsized on the floor, a ghostly reminder of the events that had just transpired.

“Lady Jenwise,” Lord Radon set his cup down and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin before clearing his throat and looking to her. “Are you certain?”

“It must happen, Lord Radon,” She almost snapped before looking down, into her cup and closing her eyes.

“I would endeavor to speak with Lyra alone,” Lord Radon said.

“Be quick of it,” She said curtly. “The girl has duties she must attend.”

Even though Sheena had left the room I could feel the tension thickening along with my confusion.

“Come, Lyra,” Lord Radon stood, gesturing me toward the door. He took another glance to the Lady. “Lady?”

“I will hear no more of it,” The High Lady snapped. “And bear to mind that you are in my house.”

“Of course, High Lady, my apologies,” Lord Radon gave a slight bow and ushered me out of the room. We walked in silence down a corridor past a set of lancet windows that overlooked the courtyard. The silence lasted until the center of the hallway when Lord Radon stopped and let out an exasperated sigh and turned to me.

“Lyra,” Lord Radon said. “When you were riding the airship, into the Stormveil. That crawler operator, what was his name?”

“Fartham Rowan,” I said without a second thought, shrugging.

“I see. And what did he do to deserve death?”

“He failed in his mission,” I said, matter of factly. “Failure has never been tolerated in Axock. This is why I am here, I failed, I am being sentenced for my failure.”

“But you’re not dead.”

“Nobility is a different case,” I said, shrugging. “We are considered too important for such fates.”

“Why.”

“We have an important duty to the people,” I wondered why I had to explain this to Lord Radon, the Duke of Oniodale. We-”

“Without the crawler operators, would you have survived?” Lord Radon asked me.

“Likely not, My Lord,” I shrugged.

“Then he too had an important duty to his people. He informed you, his Lord that you would likely not survive an excursion into the Stormveil, and so you had him killed?”

“Yes, a duty that he failed in.”

“Lyra,” He sighed. “The reason I hold back on you now, is that I know your father. I know what his influence has done to you, I know how it has shaped your way of thinking. But Lyra, you are wrong.”

“My Lord?”

“Look at you,” he said. “you have been reduced to the state of a peasant girl, you have endured the same hardships as the people you lorded over and somehow, in this conversation, you have show that you have learned nothing. Nothing!”

“I don’t understand, My Lord-”

“I know you don’t!” He half-turned and slammed his fist against the stone wall, I could swear I heard the window clatter in its frame. “Oh but you will, Lyra, you will learn and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I couldn’t help you.”

“My Lord?”

“The sins of the father extend just so far, Lyra,” He almost growled. “At some point you must awaken to your own reality and I will say that you are doing a pissy job of it. Girl, you will go to Sheena in the presentation room, you will prepare for the summit, you will do your duty, am I clear?”

“Yes…my Lord,” I said, throughly confused. As I turned to go, he turned to the wall, leaning against it with his curled fist as he rested his head against the stone. “My Lord?”

“You are dismissed, Lyra.”

Sheena seemed to be in a far better mood as I entered the presentation hall; she stood near Lady Myria who was making wide gestures toward the hall and discussing table arrangements. Off to the right I could see a group of butlers speaking to several maids who giggled and laughed. The atmosphere in here seemed far lighter than in the Lady’s office, and I was relieved for it.

“Hello Lyra,” Sheena said, smiling as I crossed the room to approach her. I gave a brief curtsey to the Lady Myria.

“Greetings, Lady Myria,” I bowed my head and offered a smile, which she returned.

“Lyra,” She smiled. “You look especially nice today.”

I giggled slightly, suddenly feeling better. I’d finally learned to apply the makeup myself without the use of a mirror. When I did finally look in the mirror, after I had finished, I couldn’t recognize any traces of my former self. It had been ages since I’d seen my own face, and this new persona, Lyra, was quickly overtaking Micah. I couldn’t be happier.

“I do rather like the improvements she’s made,” Sheena smiled and touched my cheek. I wondered if she was still angry from earlier. Was this all an act? I watched her closely and tried to determine whether or not she was faking. I couldn’t detect any deception and so shrugged it off. “Come, Lyra, let me teach you of serving.”

Sheena led me to a round table which contained a silver tray, several pieces of silverware, cups, and napkins.

“Now, Lyra, you see this one?” She held up a three pronged fork which was a bit smaller than the others. “We call this a salad fork; these are kept in the cold box, back in the kitchen?”

“Why?” I suddenly asked, and then froze, wondering why I’d thought it was okay to speak.

“A chilled salad fork, Lyra,” Lady Myria stepped in. “The guests do not like it so when they take a bite of cold salad with a warm fork.”

That made sense - a lot of sense actually; I suddenly recalled eating salad, so long ago it seemed. The fork was always cold and I never bothered to question why. Sheena proceeded to explain different food customs to me, the use of silverware, the handling of cups, and hundreds of other rules that I’d never even thought about. I was mentally exhausted by the time we moved on to the movement part of the lesson.

“A butler’s job,” Sheena said. “Is to wait on the tables, but the maid must be ready to support the footman. As such, you will stand here, along this wall, and watch for signals. If the butler makes this signal, you see? You take this to mean they need your presence. You come, find what they need, you supply them. Imagine for a moment that a guest drops his or her fork on the floor, you would retrieve the fork, take it to the kitchen, and ensure that they have a new one. You do not keep them waiting. Are we clear on that?”

“I think so?” I looked at her in confusion.

“Lyra,” She said. “You have spent your fair share on the other side of this, use your memory, think of how the servants acted, how you expected them to act. This should not be difficult for you.”

“But it was different then,” I argued. “I was…I don’t know-”

“Oughtn’t you have paid attention to the people in your employ?” Sheena cocked her head while Lady Myria stood by in silence, leaned against a table with her arms crossed over her chest. “Come, come, we will try an example. Lady Myria?”

The Lady uncrossed her arms and sat in a chair, at the table where Sheena stood behind her. From the corner of my eye I noticed something odd in the corner of the room, just before the tall window, tucked away in the shadows, the outline of a girl. I could barely see her face, but I could tell that she was looking in our direction and a chill ran down my spine.

“Lyra, here,” Sheena snapped her fingers, drawing my attention back to the table. “Go stand over there.”

Reluctantly, I crossed the room and stood in the position that she indicated. I stood watching until she made a hand signal, prompting me to walk over. I strode through the chairs, bumping into one as I went.

“Lyra!” Sheena scolded. “What do you think this room will look like when it is filled with guests?! High Lords, viscounts, barons? Do you you think that you can simply barge through like an animal? Walk with purpose, but make yourself small. One foot in front of the other, you are not a barnyard beast!”

The lesson stretched on seemingly forever as I grew more and more exhausted with every passing moment. A few times, I glanced over toward the window and saw that the shadow was still there, watching my every move. As the hour grew later, however, I noticed that it had disappeared. A figment of my imagination, perhaps.

“Lyra!” Sheena called out as I tripped on my way to the table; the Lady Myria had been long gone, off to attend some other duty. “You can’t tumble all over, have I not shown you how to walk?”

“Look, Sheena!” I snapped. “I shouldn’t even have to do this, I-”

“Why?” Sheena demanded. “Because of that ‘noble’ blood in your veins? Your money’s no good if no one’s taking it, Lyra. You are as us, you will be us, and you ought accustom yourself to it.”

“For less than two years,” I said defiantly. “I won’t be here forever!”

“Right, your sentence,” She rolled her eyes. “and what is it that you think you’ll take away from here when you leave?”

“Not the silverware.”

Yes, yes, you think you’re such a jokester,” She said. “Now show me your walk.”

I let out an exhausted sigh and proceeded to walk in the way that she had shown me, feeling awkward at the way my legs rubbed together. She watched me with a semi-approving expression, moving her mouth as if making mental notes the entire time.

“I’m sorry, it’s hard,” I said as I stumbled again.

“Lyra, I learned this when I was a child,” She said. “I spent my entire life learning to please people like you. If, as a noble, you believe yourself to be above it, then surely you can pick it up quickly.”

I wanted to argue with her but she was correct; this was a simple task and I should be able to pick it up quickly. But I couldn’t. We practice for another hour until Sheena finally announced that ‘good enough was good enough’.

“I shouldn’t do this,” I told her as we walked toward the exit. “Put me in the back, please, I can scrub dishes like always. This summit is important to the High Lady, I oughtn’t ruin it for her.”

“This is not your decision, nor is it mine,” She pushed the door open and ushered me out into the hallway. “The High Lady has spoken.”

“But why?” I said, practically begging. “Why must I? Ought not someone else do it? Someone with more…someone better?”

“And what is this I hear, Lyra?” Sheena turned to me in surprise. “You admitting that there is someone better? And here, you had led me to believe that you were the best at everything because of your noble blood!”

“Sheena-”

“First Girl,” She corrected me harshly, glaring. I was beginning to see some of the anger from earlier resurfacing in her stone cold expression.

“First Girl, I have not said that in-”

“But you act it!” She said angrily. “You prance about this palace as if you own it, you speak to the other girls as if you are above them! Even if you fail to realize it, I have watched you and I know your mind! You do not act a part of this, you act as if you are separate from this! Lyra, I believed we had been making progress with you, but I can see your mind and your intent.”

“Sh…First Girl…” I felt crushed, I had truly been trying my best to fit in. What had I done wrong? I searched my mind, trying to think of something, anything. “I…I’m sorry…”

“Not yet,” She assured me. “Go to bed now, Lyra. We greet the day soon.”

“Lyra, do hurry with that,” Sheena snapped at me as I carried a wooden box of silverware toward the front of the kitchen. I was already sweating inside the uniform I’d been issued. Most days of the week I wore the simple gray service uniform but today we’d been issued longer black uniforms complete with white aprons that cris-crossed in the back. The skirt dropped to just below the knee, and it felt extremely odd to wear the same color as Sheena for once. Though, the biggest difference between our uniforms was in the collar. My collar was a rounded type and white; hers was the same but fully black, along with her apron. She snatched a fork from the wooden box, holding it up to the light and squinting as servants rushed about behind her.

“You washed these?” She narrowed her eyes at me and plucked another fork, comparing the two. “Lyra you have to do better. We don’t have time, take them back, have someone else clean them. You have to get out onto the floor.”

I shrank back at her scolding and turned, walking the box back to the basin.

“Don’t shrink away from me like that!” She called out after me. “We have a job to do and by and by you’re not doing it!”

“I’m trying!” I shouted back, immediately regretting my words as a few of the other servants shot me looks of terror, given that I’d just shouted at the first girl. I relaxed a little when I realized she hadn’t followed me back the kitchen and after dropping the box of silverware onto the side of the basin next to a very annoyed looking servant, I passed back through the door, walking past Sheena, and then pausing at the door to the presentation hall. To say I paused may be an understatement; I froze completely.

“Lyra!” Sheena called out, walking toward me with a purpose. I clenched my fist as she crossed the kitchen, brushing past multiple servants as she tore through the room. Fear overtook me; I turned and shot past the prep tables and dodged around the back; my shined black dress shoes slapping hard against the tile as sweat ran down my brow. I managed to reach the back door before she could catch up with me and I burst into a brief hallway. A left turn took me into a wood-paneled corridor lined with doors on either side. I took off like a shot, made it halfway and then ripped open a door that read: ‘Supply’ in golden letters etched into its glass window. Quicky, I took refuge at the end of a shelf, surrounded by ceramic plates and cups. Bending over, I placed my hands on my knees and tried to concentrate on my raspy breathing as my vision blacked and I struggled to reconcile a queasy feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. It was okay, I was safe now, here in the darkness with the plates, and the cups, and Sheena standing right over me. I shrieked as I saw her and tipped over, falling onto the wooden floor and doing my best to shuffle away from her.

“Lyra,” She said sharply. “I told you I’ve been in service my whole life. By and by, that includes this palace. I know too well the passages and the nooks, and the crannies, and elsewhere you might try to hide, so you’d just as well put up and do your job.”

“I can’t!” I wailed, backing up against a shelf and drawing my knees to my chest. The dishes clattered behind me. “Please don’t make me. Sheena find someone else, please.”

“Let me put this as simply as I know how,” She told me. “You’ll get to your feet, you’ll get back, you’ll plant yourself on that floor, or I’ll take a rolling pin to your skull, and then you can serve with a concussion.”

“Is…that your word of encouragement?” I looked up at her, biting my lip and hoping for a reprieve, but her stern expression was more than evident, even in the darkness of the supply room.

“This is my way of saying I won’t be having your attitude today. Nor will I suffer your antics. Up!”

There wasn’t a lot of choice, she bent over and force me upward by digging her nails into my arm, prompting me to rise on my own.

“Sheena I can’t do it!” I shrieked. “Let go of me!”

“Move!” She shouted, pushing me and digging her nails in simultaneously. I struggled against her grip but no matter how much I pushed against her, I found myself continually moving forward and in more pain with every passing second the harder I struggled. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the door to the presentation hall; several of the other servants had stopped to observe us as Sheena leaned in close to my ear and whispered, her hot breath misting across my face.

“You may walk out there with some dignity,” She said. “Or I will push you out, head over heels and you’ll get all of the attention that you don’t want. Don’t think for a moment that I won’t do it. I shall give you to the count of three, one, two-”

I stepped forward, pushing through the swinging door and emerging into a presentation hall that was far different from the one I’d spent several days preparing. A few servants walked behind me, prompting me to continue walking even though every instinct and muscle in my body urged me to run, hide, fight?

The hall was filled with people. Nobles. Men in three piece suits, women in colorful dresses all conversing, laughing, drinking. The noise was overwhelming and I barely managed to make it to the front, standing and toeing the line with the other girls, all dressed in the same black service uniforms. I immediately placed my hands behind my back, observing the hall and trying to become invisible at the same time. But I was invisible - not a single person noticed me. I fell into a state of tense relaxation as the nobles continued to talk and laugh amongst themselves. Was my fear unfounded?

“Lyra,” Sophie said from beside me. “Keep to your section and you’ll do well.”

“I can’t do this,” I whispered to her. “Someone will see me, they’ll recognize me-”

“I can’t even recognize you with that face full o’ makeup,” She assured me.

“Then how did you know it was me?”

“S’easy when you’re the only one shakin’ like a leaf on the wind.”

“Funny,” I said stiffly.

“Oh, and now your teeth are on the chatter,” She said with a stifled laugh. “Best pay mind, your butler’s waving you down.”

It took me what I perceived as a few seconds to understand what she was saying, but suddenly, she pushed me from the line and toward the butler, Harkam who was giving me one of the many hand signals that Sheena had shown me. I reached him and he eyed me angrily.

“Tell the kitchen to start another order of beef rolls,” He said hurridly, in a low voice so as not to speak above the Nobles. “And be faster!”

The entirety of the evening went in a similar matter; I passed it walking back and forth between the kitchen, the table section, the lineup, over, and over, and over until I thought my feet were going to swell. Along the way I managed to catch bits and pieces of conversation, most of it pertaining to the situation in Hybra which I still hadn’t managed to work out. Then, suddenly, it came to an end as the High Lady too to the stage, wearing the brilliant blue and white colors of House Jenwise. Her skirt flowed beautifully as she made her way across the stage, standing in front of a podium that housed a brass microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the nobility!” She called out. “I would ask you to heed my words!”

The hall fell silent save for a few coughs and mumbles that resonated throughout the room until the conversation finally halted completely, allowing the High Lady to speak. She looked down at the podium, referring to a few notes, it seemed, and the continued her speech.

“As most of you are aware, one month past, the city of Hybra fell by unknown means. First, I would address the theory that has been shared amongst the noble houses for the past weeks. It was thought, as it was told to us, that the Mockreet was responsible not only for preventing the winds of the Stormveil from destroying Hybra, but also for staving off the corruption caused by the veil. One month ago all contact was lost with the city of Hybra, and hence, we cannot approach, or can we travel through the Stormveil to trade with Onira or Jybaltin. The theory is that the Mockreet was disabled by unknown means, and as a result, can no longer stave off the corruption. It would then stand to reason that Hybra is corrupted, no doubt.”

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the hall, and for the first time I was starting to get a clear idea of what had happened. The Mockreet allowed passage, but ultimately no one knew what the Mockreet was. Was it an energy source? Was it a god? A person?

“Noblemen, noblewomen,” The High Lady continued. “Now, more than ever, we must present a united front. Will we be able to contact Hybra? Will we be able to travel the veil once again? This is impossible to say, but I am here to tell you today, that the veil does not inherently cause corruption.”

A murmur passed through the hall, the Lords and Ladies looked at one another, casting confused expressions before returning their attention to the High Lady.

“We have it, on very good authority, that Lord Lavoric of Axock launched a perilous expedition to the Stormveil one year and eight months past, and using advanced shielding technology, he was not only able to approach, but at least two people managed to penetrate the event horizon.

Two? Two?

“Lady Jenwise,” A noble interrupted. I peeked across, seeing Lord Absalom Sydney Featherstone of Elpos raising his silver-tipped cane. “How is it that you can know this?”

“Because, Lord Featherstone,” She told the silver-bearded man. “We have both of the Stormveil survivors here.”

More murmurs, a few gasps, and then a voice that I recognized all too well.

“Lady Jenwise,” Lord Lavoric, my father said from the other end of the room. “I believe my son has been telling you tall tales, should you send the boy to me, I will-”

“It is not only your son,” The High Lady interrupted him. “We have ample evidence, and your son’s story was easily corroborated with a high level source, perhaps even higher than he.”

“Carola,” My father snapped, using the Lady’s first name. “Where the hell is my son?”

Just as I felt my heart was about to slide into my stomach, I felt a brief tap on my shoulder and a tug on my hand as Sheena pulled me quietly from the line, ushering me through a door beside the stage. We emerged into a dark hallway, and she pressed me against the wall; I could hear her telling me to calm down, but her voice seemed far way; I realized that I had been breathing heavily, my face cold, sweat ran down my brown.

“Sheena!” The Lady Jenwise shouted as she passed into the hallway. “Tell me girl, have you been touched in the head?”

“I won’t let you do it,” Sheena turned to her, placing herself between us. “You cannot do this!”

“Are you telling me that the High Lady of Klocby is wrong in her assessment of the situation?”

“I’m telling you that High Lady of Klocby is being the High Bitch!”

“Calm down,” Lord Radon said, stepping into the hallway. “No need for such discourse. Let us speak to Lyra as civilized people, hm? Lyra, you embrace your new identity, but not fully, you still hold loyalties to Axock, this is true?”

“Speak truly!” Sheena squeezed my shoulder. “Your life could depend upon it!”

“Sheena,” Lady Jenwise said. “I could dismiss you from my service for such a transgression.”

“And I would be glad to go, so as not to be a party to this!” Sheena glared daggers at her. “Lyra, she planned to expose you in front of that entire room, I see her reasoning, but do you really need to be laid so low to become a better person?”

I didn’t know how to answer that so I stayed silent, hugging the wall with my back.

“I am certain that Kayla would make an adequate replacement for you,” Jenwise stood her ground. “Let us be on with this, Lady Myria cannot forestall them for long.

“I would go with her,” Kayla said, as she too entered the hallway. “This does not seem right to my mind.”

“Oh, fantastic then,” Jenwise rolled her eyes and looked to Radon. “And you too, I suppose are with them?”

“Lyra,” Lord Radon looked at me gently, but spoke with a firmness in his tone. “Your father hates Klocby, why would he allow his son to be sent here for a minor crime? Think on it. No, we haven’t the time - he wanted you killed.”

I froze, that couldn’t be possible, could it? Sheena looked to me with sympathy in her eyes.

“I have no clue to my mind as to what you could have done to anger him so, but he sent you here to die. And the High Lady would have outright murdered you, had she not been so amused and intrigued with your unusual request!”

“Lord Radon!” Lady Jenwise gasped and then glared at Radon. “Do not think me so incompetent! I would have at the very least made it look like an accident!”

“You are disgusting!” Sheena spat. “How could you?”

“How could I?” The High Lady said, chuckling with amusement. “Micah Lavoric committed murder at the behest of his father. He was neither useful nor morally centered at the time of his arrival. He thinks himself trained in swordplay but our most novice guards could probably chop him like a melon in but a few swipes. Political training? He only knows brute force. As it is, he’s lucky he’s as skilled at domestic chores, because as I understand it-”

“She,” Sheena growled.

“I am speaking not of Lyra, I am speaking of Micah Lavoric. Micah Lavoric is an incompetent monster. Lyra is a perfect servant, save for her skewed moral leanings.”

“Which, we can work on!” Lord Radon said. “Now surely you have another way to accomplish your goals tonight without mortifying Lyra in front of the whole of Faidyre!”

“Everyone is against me then,” The High Lady said with a sigh. “You know well that I can make a unilateral decision here, I don’t need-”

“You don’t want to lose your senior most housekeepers,” Kayla smirked. “We will care for Lyra, and we will ensure that she understands the ways of Klocby. As for the rest, well, I assume after today will pose no issue?”

“Indubitably,” The High Lady sighed. “She will be your charge then, Sheena.”

“As she has been, My Lady.”

“Lord Radon, we have much work ahead of us,” The High Lady said.

“Agreed, High Lady.”

“Call for my scribe, Lord Radon will serve as witness, my sister will oversee the transaction. I will retake the room and make the announcement. May the Goddess have mercy on whatever is left of your soul, Lyra.”

The High Lady turned on her heel and Sheena breathed a sigh of relief as we were left to our own devices in the hallway.

The three of them stood in silence; Lord Radon coughed and grimaced as he placed his hands behind his back and began to place. Finally, he spoke.

“Kaya, the scribe.”

“Yes, Lord Radon,” She said, scurrying off down the hall. Sheena closed her eyes and breathed in, then let out a large exhale before turning to me, looking into my eyes and pursing her lips. There was something far different about the way she was looking at me but I couldn’t quite work out what it was. Finally, she placed a hand on my arm and guided me past Lord Radon, toward a side door, which she opened, allowing me to hear the sound from the event hall.

“-has chosen to renounce his Noble status and declare loyalty to the nation of Klocby-” The High Lady’s voice floated down from the stage, just before Sheena shut the door, cutting off all sound. She turned to me and placed her hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes and speaking evenly.

“It has been spoken, and it will be done,” She told me, removing her hands and placing one on my back, moving me gently toward Lord Radon as I stared straight ahead with a numbness seizing my entire body. “You are as us, now, Lyra, and we will care for you, but your cooperation is needed.”

With little left to say, I allowed her to guide me down the back hallway, up a set of stairs and eventually to a small office with a desk where Kayla stood with a man I didn’t recognize. He was dressed in simple single-breasted suit with the blue cord of the scribes affixed to his shoulder.

“Shall we proceed?” The man asked, sitting down and indicating a piece of parchment. I hesitated, backing up a little only to feel Lord Radon’s hand on my shoulder.

“Lyra,” He said. “Your father will be raising holy hell in the event hall as we speak; and by the Goddess if we cannot go to him with contract in hand, there will be naught we can do to protect you.”

“What can you do to protect me from him?” I whispered. “He’ll kill me.”

“Sit, Lyra,” Sheena pushed me gently toward the chair and put the quill in my hand as I sat down.

“Micah Harodavich Lavoric,” The scribe said, reading the contract. “It is by your hand that you denounce your title of Nobility and swear fealty to the nation of Klocsby…”

The scribe continued but I began to fade out, his voice becoming more distant as Sheena squeezed my hand and Lady Myria entered the room to stand behind the desk and peer at the contract.

“…abiding by the laws of Klocby and submitting to the conditions thereof…”

“Sheena…” I whispered frightfully, trembling as the words were spoken. She squeezed my hand again and rubbed my shoulder as my resolve began to break. What was being done here could not be undone, once I signed the contract, my fate would be sealed.

“And do you witness this declaration, Lady Myria Jenwise of Klocby?” The scribe asked.

“I do,” Lady Myria affirmed.

“Lord Radon-”

“I do,” Radon said.

The quill was in my hand; it scratched across the page, leaving my signature as I slumped back, disconnected from the situation as my once certain future dissolved in front of my very eyes.

“Then witness my hand and seal, as from this day forth, Lord Micah Harodavich Lavoric may now be known as Lyra…”

“Rossi,” Sheena said. “Lyra Rossi.”

“Lyra Rossi, common citizen of Klocby.”

The scribe left, carrying the contract as I slumped further down into the chair. Sheena crouched down beside me and gently stroked my hair.

“Your decisions are your own now, Lyra,” She told me. “Not your father’s, not your sister’s. Yours. Yours alone. How you make your life from here will be determined by your will, and your conscience. Come now, Lyra, we have much to do.”

“We will keep her here for the time being,” Sheena stood over me as I sat on the couch in her office. Lord Radon and Kayla stood nearby. “The servants wouldn’t know Micah Lavoric by sight, and as we have observed over the past few weeks, there has been no gossip to speak of.”

“Which is remarkable,” Lord Radon muttered. “Servants talk, commoners talk, even nobility talks. Tell me, how is it that the son of Lord Lavoric can walk about Klocby Palace in a a dress, holding a feather duster, and no one breathes a word of it?”

“I would bear mind to such statements, Lord Radon,” Sheena said. “Micah Lavoric no longer exists.”

“We cannot deny the question,” Lord Radon said. “And what of this…Sage you spoke of?”

“Miss Rowan will have her turn, assuredly,” Kayla said, walking over to the desk and leaning against it. “What of Stephan Lavoric?”

“Words cannot describe his reaction to the news,” Radon smirked. “A royal assassination would have gone over better with him, I’m afraid.”

“And the wording of the contract?” Sheena looked at him, obviously worried.

“He was provided with a modified copy, devoid of Lyra’s name,” Radon assured us. “Now I must return to the hall, there are many questions for Lord Lavoric, pertaining mostly to this technology he has kept hidden. They wish to march upon Hybra within the next year.”

“Which is none of Lyra’s concern,” Sheena said. “Kayla, I will be returning to the hall. Jen will be here momentarily and then you may rejoin us.”

“Sheena,” I spoke up, causing the three of them to jerk their head in surprise.

“So she still has a voice,” Radon joked. “For a time I believed her mute.”

“What is it, Lyra?” Sheena shot Radon a disdainful look at his comment.

“The…the High Lady, she said there were two survivors, from the Stormveil incident-”

“No,” Sheena cut me off by placing her index finger over my lips. “You are Lyra. I want you to be Lyra right now. The day will come when you may need to provide answers or assistance, but as of right now, you are Lyra Rossi. Be Lyra.”

“I would tend to agree,” Lord Radon said. “While Micah was certainly an interesting individual, I would not have known him as a friend. Lyra, on the other hand, has promise.”

I turned my head to regard Lord Radon, my poise weaker than normal. Why was he speaking to me in this manner? As a commoner I shouldn’t have held any importance to him, but he spoke to me as an equal. I saw him speak to Sheena and laugh as if they shared common ground. What did it mean? Was my perception of the world that skewed? Sheena and Lord Radon left, and Kayla set beside me on the couch, letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Construction is to begin on the servant’s quarters in the next month,” She told me, speaking naturally as if the events of the last few hours had not even transpired. “They say two to a room, can you imagine?”

“I guess not,” I admitted. “I haven’t had privacy since…”

“Since you arrived,” She finished for me. “I suppose you’re used to lavish chambers and sprawling beds. You probably had your own sitting room. I can scarcely imagine.”

“I…did, yes,” I laughed a little, starting to feel more at ease. “and a balcony.”

“Your own balcony,” She smiled. “You seek to make me jealous.”

“You oughtn’t be,” I assured her. “I doubt I’ll have any of those things again.”

“And does that bother you?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted. “I…I don’t know, I like this. I feel like a weight has been lifted, I think.”

“And you’re much more verbose,” She noted. “Most people do not grow up with the pleasures and accomodations that you were afforded and the truth is, most get by just as well, though life can become more challenging.”

“What was it like for you then?” I asked her. “Growing up, I mean?”

“Well, isn’t that a question?” She smiled, rising from the couch and pacing before the desk. Finally, she turned to me, as if reaching a determination. “I grew up in an outlying town, Strading, it’s called. A small industrial township, did ye know we were known for cogs? Not the big cogs, the small ones, take it to mind or not, they take more stress than the biggins, they have to be made just so, because a cracked cog breaks up the whole works. Now take that to mind Lyra, all focus on the big ones, but sometimes the smallest cog in any machine makes all the difference. My father and I, we lived in a one room house, though by your standards, a shack I suppose. We ‘ad a wood floor wi’ three broken planks, fell down those holes many a’ times,” She laughed out loud, her eyes becoming distant as she remembered. “Still got a scar on my leg.”

“Why didn’t you just fix the floor?”

“When you’ve to decide between food and a floor, which one is to help you live longer?” Kayla laughed. “But who minds it really, little things that make a place unique. We didn’t have a front door neither; just a curtain hung up on an old rod. Rained a lot, I remember. Leaky ceiling but at night I could lay there and listen to the raindrops all night. The patter of drops against the tin roof, the sound of thunder crackling off in the distance, might seem scary to some, but it was a comfort to me.”

“I never did like the rain,” I admitted. “But…your house had no door?”

“That was your takeaway then?” Kayla laughed again, regarding me with a warm look. “The quality of the house ‘taint so important Lyra. No matter the rain, the wind, or even the snow, my father, he did come home each night covered so in grease and grime as he was, and his smile never faded. Always he’d come home with a few pieces of candy for me. It’s not for me t’know how he afforded such luxuries, but things like that, the small things, those are the things I’ll never forget. That’s what makes a home, Lyra. Not the condition o’ the floor planks or whether or not you’ve a door to shield you from the cold. What matters, Lyra, is love, and if y’got that, then you’ve got your floor, your roof, your door, and even a fire t’keep you warm at night.”

I shook my head and frowned, looking to her, and then off across the room as I wrung my hands and turned the thought over in my mind.

“I don’t understand,” I said helplessly. “I’m sorry but I don’t.”

“You will, Lyra,” She squeezed my shoulder and rose from the couch. “But for now, Jen has arrived, and she brings gifts!”

I looked toward the door realizing that I hadn’t even noticed Jen walking into the room pushing a cart piled with food.

“I liberated this from the kitchen,” Jen announced. “Surely those stuck up nobles won’t notice a few missing biscuits! No offense, Lyra.”

“I’m…really not hungry,” I shrugged and sank back into the couch.

“But you’ll eat,” Kayla told me; her tone indicating that it was more than a mere suggestion. “I’ll be getting a full report from Jen; if you don’t do so well as you’re told, you can expect Sheena to mush it up and pipe it down your throat, I’m understood?”

“Yes First Preceptor,” I mumbled.

“Good girl.”

As Kayla left the room a feeling of existential dread washed over me. Before now, before this very moment, I’d simply been serving a sentence and the entire arrangement was temporary. I could have simply waited it out, but now it was permanent. I was considered to be Lyra; Micah was dead. It was just her now, trapped at the whims of Sheena and the High Lady, should she choose to become involved. The proverbial cord had been cut and the realization was beginning to set in.

“There, there, Little Lyra!” Jen said, pushing the cart over to the couch and smiling widely. “Things are not so bad!”

“I’m sorry, Jen,” I apologized almost half heartedly as she pulled a ceramic plate from the cart and began to pile it with food. “I just…”

“You just, you just, you just,” She grinned and shoved a plate into my hands; I looked at a pile of buttered bread, fried gerka legs, creamed potatoes, alsterberry sauce, and even dice hogsmeat spread over hashcakes and smothered in gravy. “You’re all worried about being common, but what’s to worry about? I’m common and Goddess be good I’m still standin’ here, pretty as can be.”

“But I was supposed to be-”

“Eating,” She pointed to the plate. “You’re supposed to be eating, and you’d best get to it or Sheena’ll have both of our hides.”

“Jen, I-”

“Put that mouth to chewin’ rather than arguing!” She waved her hand to silence me. I finally conceded and nibbled on a piece of bread while she began to talk about how things would ‘be’ around the palace now, at least for me. “You’ll be paid now, of course, should you choose to stay in service. I take in about thirty and ten shillings a fortnight and that’s not bad when taking half the jobs in the city to count. Oh do wipe that sad look off your face, Lyra, what’s it to be that you’re upset about being among friends?”

“Friends?” asked her, suddenly confused. “How does that mean?”

“Well you ought take it to mean as it sounds,” Jen shrugged. “You’re here, you’ve been here, some o’ the girls, they see you as a friend. Sophie, Miah, myself, perhaps even Kayla to some extent. They liked you somewhat before, but now? Now they don’t hafta be afraid of you, understand?”

“They were afraid of me?”

“You’ll fit in here, you will,” She nodded, pointing to the plate. “Let’s see more chewin’!”

I finished maybe half the plate, and Jen decided that it was good enough. I spent the next several hours listening to her talk about my new life, rather excitedly and truth be told I missed a good portion of it. As the light faded beyond the windows of the office, Sheena entered the room looking as if she’d just been hit by a motorcar.

“Nobles,” She sighed. “The worst type of people to serve.”

“Is that not the only type of people you serve?” I asked her curiously. Both she and Jen looked over at me, Sheena raising an eyebrow and then shaking her head.

“You’ve so much to learn, Lyra,” She said, walking over and taking a seat on a plush green armchair caddy corner to the couch. “I’ve got something for you, little present from your father.”

She held out a piece of parchment that bore my father’s seal; I took it gingerly and held it out in front of me, unable to truly read the words.

“If you’re havin’ trouble deciphering it,” She said helpfully. “He’s disinherited you, seems he’s not fond of his only son jumping ship to his former enemy.”

“He didn’t want to see me?” I asked, feeling more than a little disappointed. Doesn’t he need proof I did this? That no one forced me?

“He sent you here to have you assassinated, Lyra,” Sheena reminded me. “If someone had forced you it wouldn’t have mattered no how to him, sad truth.”

It was a sad truth that was beginning to truly sink in and became more palatable by the passing moments.

“I understand Lyra, I truly do, there’s no worse feeling in the world than not being wanted, but I tell you by and by you are wanted, just not by him.

“I had a room there, in Axock. Belongings, a life.”

“Aye, yes, that you did, but if you were to be back there now, how would you feel? Which place would you prefer?”

“I…guess…here,” It was difficult to say the words, I had to force them to roll off my tongue, but it was the truth, and nothing but the truth. I held my father’s decree in my hand, and while the words hurt, the blow was cushioned by the presence of Jen, and Sheena, and others unseen. Yes, I could live with this.

“You will sleep in here this night,” Sheena told me. “and in the morning there will be some difficult questions to answer. But, for now, sleep easy Lyra Rossi. Your difficulties are not over, but know that you are you, and you are loved.”

1 Year and 5 Months Ago

“Father believes you’ve gotten soft,” Robin told me. “since the Stormveil incident.”

“What are we doing here?” I demanded as I walked beside her. We strode along a grated floor elevated hundreds of feet in the air; steel walkways that ran between ten deep pits, five on either side, dedicated to the construction of Axock airships. Steam and smoke billowed from concrete cooling towers, smothering the air above us and giving the scaffold a gray hue that set the tone in more ways than one. I placed my hand on the tubed railing, allowing it to glide off the metal as we walked. The sound of hammers clanging, drills buzzing, and saws cutting nearly overtook our muted conversation at every turn as we walked in cadence to the sound of whips cracking and foremen shouting in the pits just below my line of sight.

“We’re here to inspect the progress of the fleet, obviously. Father aims to invade Klocby in the next five years, assuming of course the new fleet is in top condition. You’re not so soft that you’re against our conquest now, are you?”

“Of course not!” I said, allowing the pretense of offense to fill my voice. “A world united under the Axock flag will be far more beneficial than dozens of rival capitals and nations.”

“Correct, little brother,” She nodded approvingly. “Father, however, does plan to take it a step further.”

“Indeed?” I perked up, curious as to what she was about to say.

“The weak, under the new regime would need to be filtered out. If we are to build a new world, it will be one in which the strong survive and the weak toil beneath the yoke and the whip. The survival of our very world is at stake, little brother, and you ought well know it.”

“We ought be safe,” I shrugged.

“Nepotism has never been a policy that father dabbled in,” Robin warned me. We continued to walk in silence to the sound of beating hammers and the occasional scream. Robin was, by all rights, a beautiful woman, just five years my senior with the same black hair and deep brown eyes. Her skin and flawless features painted a portrait of perfection in conjunction with what society, and father, would have considered the perfect petite body. Her body, I thought, would have been perfectly framed in one of her many silk dresses that I had envied over, but today she chose to wear skintight leather leggings and a form fitting white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. On her left leg was strapped a pistol and on her right hip, a saber. “As such, little brother, you ought know you’ll be making tough choices, as you did during the Stormveil incident.”

“The Rowan family,” I recalled the incident well.

“Mistakes were made there, as well, brother. You gave the man to the storm, but he escaped.”

“Escaped?” I turned to her, wide eyed. The scent of sulfur filled my lungs as I drew in a deep breath, contemplating the situation.

“Mistakes were made on our end as well,” She said. “He had a single daughter, by the name of Sage. She fled the city before we could get to her, word has it she made it to Klocby.”

“This seems as if it were not my error,” I offered, giving a slight shrug.

“Partially, no,” She agreed. “the soldiers responsible for the execution were punished accordingly. Life for life. But, that brings us to another matter.”

My sister and I walked side by side down a set of metal steps, descending beneath the scaffold and emerging onto a catwalk that ran directly alongside a massive airship, still under construction. Orange sparks sprayed from saws and torches, men hammered away at hot metal and instructions were shouted from every level of the scaffold. We walked along the steel catwalk, nearly oblivious of the workers toiling next to us, save for the few moments in which a which cracked, leading me to flinch and thank the Gods that I would never be under the whip myself. We turned a corner and stepped into what appeared to be a wire cage set off to the side and welded directly into the beams. It might have been a storage area at some point, but now it held but one thing - a young girl with reddish hair, clad in the servant gray and chained to a pipe that had been welded to the grate. She was young, perhaps eighteen, maybe even nineteen, though older than me. I could see the bruising around her collar, as if someone had leashed and manhandled her; her left eye was swollen shut and accompanied by bruising that extended all the way down to her neck. Though her mouth was stuffed with rag, I could hear her whimpers as she tried to communicate with us. I suddenly felt a wave of pity for the girl - a feeling that I shouldn’t have been experiencing. It was merely a servant, what did it matter?
“And this is?” I asked Robin, trying to keep my voice as even as possible so as not to betray the obscene emotion that was threatening to overtake me. She was a servant. Just a servant.

“You ought recognize her, little brother,” Robin smirked. “She serves you, quite often. Goes by the name of Plum. Do you see now?”

I did. The girl, Plum, had served my father and I on the airship, and in several other capacities since then. From what I remembered, or had paid attention to, there had been nothing wrong with her.

“She has stolen,” Robin informed me. “The heigh of selfishness, but I would expect no less from a lowly servant, scum as they are. The sentence for thievery is clear, and you must make a decision, little brother. What shall it be, the head, or the hand?”

“What?” I demanded. “Plum is an outstanding servant, is this not the one father denied food? I should expect anyone would steal given to hunger enough!”

“As father suspected,” Robin grinned. “You are getting soft. I should never have taught you how to cook and sew, you’ve become so weak.”

“I simply do not wish to waste a good servant!” I lied. “To retrain another would-”

“Would take hours,” She laughed. “We, Micah, are the superior beings. These servants are tools, like a hammer, or a torch. We use our tools, and when they are no longer useful, we discard them. So I ask you again, little brother, the head, or the hand?”

Robin was unsheathing her saber, the scene unfolding in front of me was surreal, but why? She was just a servant, I tried to remind myself of it. Why should I feel upset about it?

“Come little brother, choose!” She began to swing the saber with a single hand in an almost casual gesture with each swing bringing the razor sharp blade closer to Plum’s nose. The girl screamed through the gag and tried to back off but the chains held her fast to the floor.

She is just a servant. Snap out of it!

I told it to myself again and again, but somehow I couldn’t believe it.

“Last chance, Micah,” Robin laughed. “If you don’t choose soon, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll start with the ears, maybe slice them off bit by bit, start at the tip. Then we’ll shave a little bit of skin off the cheeks. What about the eyes, Micah? Surely she won’t need those.”

“The hand!” I suddenly screamed. “Take the hand!”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the saber came down in one fell swoop, severing the hand with a sickening crunch and leaving the girl, Plum to write on the floor in pain, her other hand still securely fastened to the pipe. Muffled screams filled the cage as I observed her tear stained face. Robin casually wiped her saber on Plum’s dress until it was free of blood, and then placed it back in the leather scabbard at her hip.

“What happened to you in the Stormveil, Micah?” She demanded. “Father sent you there to make you a man, and what is it you came back as?”

“I don’t remember,” I said angrily. “What would you like me to say? It is as I told you. I jumped into the veil and awakened elsewhere. I walked to a nearby town-”

“What town?”

“I don’t remember the name of it!” I shouted. “What do the details matter?”

“They matter much if you are finding yourself to be weak!” She screamed, unsheathing her blade and leveling it at my throat as she crossed the cage, stepping neatly over Plum. The tip of the blade rested against my throat, I watched her, wide eyed as she twisted it in her hand and met my gaze. “In the new world, Micah, the weak will be left behind! Father ought hand you over to Klocby, you’d fit in with them there.”

“Oh take that back!” I shouted as I tried to mask the very fact that I was trembling.

“The truth can be a powerful thing,” She said, lowering the blade and re-sheathing it. She shot me another glare, and then stormed from the cage. I took another glance at Plum, now cradling the stump of a hand she had remaining, and then scurried out, after Robin.

“I am not weak!” I screamed, stopping her in her tracks. “How dare you?! How dare you make such sordid accusations? I am the heir to the throne of Axock and what are you? Some bitch that father humors? He’ll cast you aside, watch for it and mark my words!”

“Take heed, little brother,” She warned me, turning about to face me. “heir can be a shaky position, and one that you’re like to lose.”

“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. As a result I’d found myself piled upon with dress after dress, greens, and grays, and blacks, all different styles and cuts and materials.

“Where am I going to wear these, even?” I asked, nearly stumbling backward as Miah shoved another bundle of clothes into my arms.

“Parties, dinner, out, all sorts of places, you might say,” Sophia laughed.

“We spend not all of our time in the servant’s quarters,” Jen informed me. “in our allotted time, we travel the streets, visit with our families, go out with friends. The possibilities that present themselves are endless!”

“Do you ever visit your family in Zlita?” I asked her. She smiled.

“Oh, once or twice a year,” She told me. “It’s a bit of a journey but I manage it from time to time!”

The servant quarters were beginning to look slightly different; as they stood there fawning over me, men in gray jumpsuits measured and hammered at all corners of the space. The planned renovations were going forward, and within the next day, we were to be relocated to a secondary servant quarters, located somewhere on the north side of the campus adjacent the palace.

“They’re to split this building into two floors,” Jen said, following my gaze. “stairs to separate them, doors on every room! Can you imagine it, Lyra, it will be like a hotel!”

“I can’t,” I admitted, thinking back on the servant quarters in Klocby and giving a shudder. “I can’t say I’ve ever been to a hotel either, perhaps we could visit one?”

“You could wear one of your new dresses!” Miah piped up. “I so want to see you in that black one!:

“But has she any skirts?” Miah suddenly asked, looking at the piles of clothing on my bunk and bundled in my arms. “We’ve given her so many dresses, but a good skirt and top make all the difference. Better to bring out personality, you know.”

“Lyra,” Sheena called out from behind the three girls, who all turned to regard her. She stood several feet away, her arms folded and a solemn expression painting her face. I frowned, and a sickening feeling began to emanate from my stomach as I realized that something was terribly wrong. She motioned for me to follow, and I did so wordlessly. I wanted to ask her what was going on, but I knew from experience that this would prove a futile effort. So I followed her in silence, through the winding hallways, up the flights of stairs, across the ParDar field where I had first encountered Lord Radon, and finally, we stood just outside the High Lady’s chambers. The doors seemed more ominous than ever before as I regarded the two guards on either side, rifles in hand, staring off into the distance aimlessly but ever aware of the situation around them. I looked to Sheena who gave me a quick smile which rapidly melted away into an expression of sympathy. Finally, she spoke.

“I want to tell you that it will be okay, Lyra,” She said softly. “I want to tell you that you needn’t be afraid, but today I cannot. What happens to you now will depend upon who you were, and who you have become. Please, Lyra, simply know and understand that I have given to you the Rossi name, and that I stand with you. I stand with the person you are, the person that I have observed over these weeks.”

“The Rossi name?” I frowned. “What does it mean?”

Sheena smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder, the scent of her muted perfume filled my nostrils as I drank in the soft smile.

“The name of my mother, and of my father. My name. My sister’s name. I did not make this decision lightly, Lyra. You are my sister now, by and by, through and through, so sure as fen and fern lights the night. There are people outside these walls who know of you, a new mother, a new father, sisters, and they are so eager to meet you, Lyra. But now questions must be asked and answers given, so much as they can be.”

A tear formed at the corner of my eye, dripping and rolling down my cheek as Sheena wrapped her arms around me. The warmth of her body filled me and I closed my eyes, stifling a sob as she released me.

“I see you, Lyra,” She whispered. “I see Lyra Rossi, not Micah Lavoric. He, is dead, and you are here. Let us go forth, with that knowledge in hand.”

She turned and twisted the lever, pushing the door aside to reveal the High Lady’s chamber. As we stepped inside, past the guards, I could see four people I recognized. Lord Radon, leaned against a pillar, as usual, arms folded and staring straight ahead. The Lady Jenwise sat behind her desk, ramrod straight, watching us as we entered the room. Then, of course, the Lady Myria standing just behind the High Lady, her form silhouetted by the massive picture window overlooking the city. The fourth person brought my heart to a standstill as I stared in disbelief.

“It has been a long time, girl,” Commander Balthasar Hammond stepped forward from the shadows, his scarred face easily recognizable, but now dressed in the blue of House Jenwise. “and I see that time has treated you better than I. Though last I saw you, you were naked in a field of posies. That was some stunt you pulled, child diving into the Stormveil as if you were off to dinner. A wonder we both survived that mess.”

“Commander Balthasar!” I gasped. “You…you survived the Stormveil incident!”

“That I did, girl, woke up beside you, and decided that I’d had enough of House Lavoric. I see you fared well, on your own. Oh, and it would be General Balthasar Hammond now, by the grace of the High Lady.”

“I did,” I nodded. “When they said there was another survivor, I didn’t think-”

“We can talk of that in due time,” He interrupted me. “For now, there is business to attend to.”

Behind me, I heard Sheena close the door.

“Lyra,” The High Lady said. “Despite your immeasurable progress in the past month, you stand accused of some rather severe crimes. Murder, coercion, kidnapping, chiefly among them. I could ask you how you plead, but the futility of such a question would be…well, quite frankly comical in this situation. Everyone present knows what Micah Lavoric did, and to hold a trial against you would take years. The witnesses that we would have to deposition, the countless testimonies, and in the end? We all know that you’d simply face a firing squad. Then, ultimately, we would need to ask how many of these deeds were of your own volition, and how many laid on the shoulders of your father. So, Lyra, I will not arrange for a public trial. Instead…”

As she trailed off, another form stepped from the shadows, someone I recognized but couldn’t place. The red-headed girl, the one who had confronted me in the hallway. Sage, was that her name? Yes, it was Sage, and as I recalled the name, realization washed over me. My jaw went slack and my stomach began to feel queasy. She stepped closer to me, looking me up and down, studying my face. I immediately looked away in shame, squeezing my eyes shut as she stepped closer.

“Look at me,” She said, her calm town masking immeasurable anger. I kept my eyes shut, a whimper escaped my lips as I tried to hold my composure. Then came the shrill scream. “Look at me!!!”

Her scream echoed through the High Lady’s chambers; I stumbled backward, dropping to my backside and barely managing to support myself by throwing my palms flat on the floor. I looked up at her, she glared at me.

“How could you?” She demanded. “What gave you the right? My father served you with passion and loyalty and you sent him to his death without a second thought! How I have dreamed of the day that I would stand before you. I wanted you dead. I wanted to gut you like a fish and feed you your entrails you miserable piece of goat shit!”

She fumed at me, the room remained silent as I was observed by the High Lady, Balthasar, and the others. I felt the wetness on my cheeks, the burning of my eyes, my body weak as I finally managed to pull myself upright but instead of climbing to my feet, I rested on my knees and placed my hands in my lap.

“Well?” Sage demanded. “Say something? Look at me and say something! Give to me your excuses so I may throw them back at you! Let me tell you of the man that you sent to his death! Let me tell you of his generosity, his kindness, his love! Let me tell you how you took that from me!”

“I did,” I finally spoke, looking upward and meeting her gaze through blurred vision. My voice cracked, my body shook; I was lower now than I had ever been, and I finally understood as I came face to face with her. It was me. It was always me. I was to blame. There was no one else.“I endeavored to take from you what should never have been taken, that which I had no right to take. I took from so many in the name of House Lavoric but it was not just for the honor of Lavoric, it was because Micah Lavoric enjoyed it. Micah Lavoric is a coward, and when all is said and done, he is guilty of all crimes levied against him. Then, High Lady, let Micah Lavoric die, so that we may cleanse the way between us. Let the healing begin, please, I beg of you. But, Sage Rowan, before I die, I would tell you that your father escaped the storm. He lives. Please, find him, and retake what I took from you.”

Sage began to shake, her eyes wide as she took a step back. I could hear Sheena sobbing quietly in the back of the room, near the door. Radon let out a strong exhale and lowered his head as Balthasar regarded me with interest. Finally, it was Sage who spoke.

“Micah Lavoric ordered my father to die. He ordered me to be executed. My life was ruined upon that day as I fled the city under the cover of darkness, soldiers at my back. I nearly died in the wilderness, starving and violently ill, and had a kind stranger not crossed paths with me by chance, I would have surely perished. And every day since, I plotted my revenge against Micah Lavoric, even as I took up residency in Klocby, even as I donned the gray and became a servant to House Jenwise. I wanted him to die, I dreamed of this day. But alas, High Lady, I do not see Micah Lavoric here.”

Sage turned and walked back across the room to stand near Lady Myria who held her as she cried. I remained kneeled on the floor, my head bowed. Silence followed for several minutes, broken only by a grunt from Balthasar and and a sigh from Sheena.

“You have told me, Lyra, that Micah Lavoric did indeed commit these crimes that he is accused of, and you told me that he deserves to die. I agree with you, Lyra, and so I sentence him to death.”

Sheena gasped, Sage broke away from Lady Myria and stared at me wide eyed as Radon pushed himself away from the pillar.

“I sentence Micah Lavoric to the death of self. I sentence him to fade away, into the darkest recesses of your mind, never to be seen or heard from again. I sentence him to cease, and I sentence Lyra, to live. I sentence her to find her passion, to be a joy among others, to live in the way best befitting to her. But Lyra shall never hold a weapon, she shall never serve in any branch of the military, and she shall never hold a position of power over another. She will remain the charge of her sister, Sheena Rossi, and she will learn to become the girl that she claims to be. She will visit with my personal surgeons, she will leave the appearance of Micah Lavoric behind, she will alter her personality in every way until she becomes Lyra through and through. That is my verdict, that is my word.”

With no idea what to say or do, I felt my body go slack, and I fell forward, onto the floor. Sob after sob escaped my throat, the death rattle of a boy that never should have been, and the dissolution of his future, whatever that might have held. I felt Sheena’s hand on my back, and she took me into her arms as the High Lady continued to speak.

“Lyra will remain employed at the palace and paid a fair wage for the foreseeable future. In her condition, she cannot live among the people as she would not have the financial means, nor would she be able to care for herself. This stipulation is not negotiable. Lyra will remain in service to House Jenwise. She will be supervised, she will be reported upon regularly, and so long as she remains the girl that she promises to be, she will live a long, and happy life within these walls. Am I understood?”

“She understands, High Lady,” Sheena said abruptly as she helped me to my feet. “I promise you, she understands.”

“Then,” The High Lady said. “Let it be done.”

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

“Wake up, dear Lyra,” Sheena’s soft voice floated into my ears from far away as I stirred in my bunk. My eyelids didn’t want to cooperate and my mind kept floating back to into the land of sweet sleep. I laid there, squeezing my eyes shut and trying with great futility to hang on to the waning threads of sleep, even as Sheena playfully tickled my chin. Then, suddenly, my sleepful state was shattered entirely by the sound of Jen screaming.

“Lyra wake up, the dorm is ablaze!” She shrieked, and then proceeded to leap onto my bunk, jumping on my legs and causing me to squeal and shout out in surprise as I fell from to the ground wrapped in a mess of blanket and nightgown.

“Jen!” Sheena shouted as I struggled to free myself from the cocoon of blankets entangling my legs and upper body.

“Oh come now, oughtn’t she know she’s slept long enough?” Jen burst into laughter as I managed to sit up and regain most of my senses. I nearly flew into a panic as I swiveled my head and realized that the dorm was completely devoid of human life.

“Oh no, I overslept!” I scrambled to my feet and then proceeded to trip over the adjacent bunk, saved only by Sheena’s quick movements as she wrapped her hands around my arms and snatched me back to the aisle. “Sheen- First Girl, where is everyone? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Jen giggled, I gave her a glare of utter contempt and panic.

“There won’t be any work today, Lyra,” Sheena said. “for today, you meet your family. Jen, you will assist the First Preceptor today, make sure that-”

“You think I don’t know how to follow orders?” Jen stuck out her tongue and Sheena gave her a perplexed look.

“Then get ye to it,” She told her. “Come, Lyra, we must prepare.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by ‘meet your family’, but I followed her nonetheless to an empty shower room adjacent to the backup servant quarters where we’d been duly relocated while the renovations were underway.

“Have you kept up with your moisturizing?” She asked me as we walked briskly to a shower stall and she gestured for me to walk in.

“Yes First Girl,” I said as I pulled my nightgown over my head and laid it on a a nearby bench before stepping into the shower.

“There is no need for service honorifics,” She told me. “Today you are Lyra Rossi, my sister, and I am your older sibling, by law. The culturally correct way to address an older sibling is ‘yes Elder Sister’, if familiarity does not permit otherwise. Finish in the shower, we are short on time.”

Four days had passed since the fateful encounter in the High Lady’s office but even now, as the steam pressured water pumped over my skin, I couldn’t help but flash back on what could be nothing less than a traumatizing event. The look of indifference cast by the High Lady as I kneeled before her desk, the trembling that shook my very marrow.

“I sentence Micah Lavoric to the death of self.” She had said. The death of self. The death of everything I would have or could have been. In the moment, as I’d cried into Sheena’s chest, the concept seemed so alien to me, but day by day I could feel the presence of Micah Lavoric growing weaker. His was the death cry of a mishandled childhood and Lyra was an unintended consequence.

“I sentence Lyra, to live. I sentence her to find her passion, to be a joy among others, to live in the way best befitting to her.”

But these were mere words; Lyra could never find her passion, not like this. Instead, Lyra would have to be content with merely existing. I stepped from the shower and dried myself off just in time for Sheena to approach, carrying a bundle of clothes.

“Miah gave you much,” She nodded as she set the dress and undergarments down on the bench. “You will wear green this day, as green is the primary color in the Rossi family crest.”

“I don’t understand,” I said as she handed me undergarments and urged me to put them on. “Are they…are they coming here?”

“Luckily for us,” She said. “My family, while not of the nobility, is respected enough that you are being allowed off the grounds for the day. My father is a clock maker, my mother works for a respected printer.”

“But if that’s true, then why are you in service?” I wondered if it was the wrong question to ask, but part of my sentence was drowned in a swathe of green fabric as she pulled the dress over my head.

“The Rossi family has a long tradition of working in lower class positions before they move on,” She explained. “to give us perspective. Come now, let’s fit your bodice.”

The bodice was a thick, heavily boned material, practically a corset, and it fit over my dress easily. Sheena tightened and I immediately grunted as the material dug into my shoulders.

“Mind your complaining,” She told me as she turned me around and inspected me, smoothing out the wrinkles and straightening my collar. “You’re going to meet your family, you’ll want to look presentable.”

Meet my family; what a strange concept. Family consisted of my father and sister but each day their faces faded more and more from my mind; soon I would scarcely remember what they looked like. After my dress was secure, Sheena applied my makeup, wiping it off once to re-apply it until she was finally satisfied.

Sheena ordered me to walk alongside her after she’d finished attaching her own bodice and instructing me on how to tighten it for her. Her dress, while similar to mine, was a slightly darker shade of green, and her bodice boasted a white trim. We left the dorm and met with Balthasar, who greeted us in his stiff military fashion just outside a door sealed with a clockwork locking mechanism.

“By the High Lady’s leave,” Balthasar said, looking from me, then back to Sheena. “We have until the sun sets to return.”

“‘Tis only six past six,” Sheena said. “We have time.”

Balthasar nodded and turned a lever; I stood there and watched with disinterest as the clockwork gears creaked and turned, a loud click emanating from the assembly as the locking mechanism released and the door swung outward to reveal a skywalk. Glass on either side, I beheld the city far below as we entered the undercarriage of an airship and took up residence in posh leather seats.

“The ship will dock at the Market Quarter,” Balthasar said as the door closed and the scenery outside began to drift. My stomach lurched a little as the docking clamps released and the dirigible jerked upward just slightly.

“Balthasar,” I said as he crossed the cabin to stand by the window. “May I speak to you privately?”

“You may not,” Sheena said sternly. “Whatever is said will be said openly, I’ll not have my little sister sneaking about, plotting and scheming under the cover of darkness.”

“I’m not scheming!” I argued, garnering a nasty look from Sheena, but it was Balthasar who spoke from his position near the plate glass window.

“Mind your tone, girl,” He said without turning. “and mind your sister, this is a different culture and you’ll have to play by the rules.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, then realized I might have reconsidered speaking.

“Klocby puts a heavy emphasis on family, my girl,” He smiled half heartedly, folding his hands behind his back. “The older sister holds dominion over the younger, so long as the younger isn’t of majority.”

“And the older sister commands respect,” Sheena added. “You will do as you are told. You are, of course, accustomed to obedience in service, but in that situation there are certain misdeeds you could get away with. This scenario is different.”

“Different?” I frowned as I wondered just what I had gotten myself into. “How?”

“Misdeeds will be met with reprimand, disrespect, with punishment. You are a Klocby citizen and part of a family that recognizes tradition.”

“I see,” I nodded, trying to ignore the twisting in the pit of my stomach. “Balthasar, may I ask a question?”

“Lyra,” Sheena turned in her seat and glared at me. I sighed almost inaudibly.

“Sheena, may I-”

“Lyra!” She rose from her seat, looking down at me with a stern, but not an angry expression.

“Elder sister,” I said. “May I ask Balthasar a question?”

“Regarding what?” She demanded.

“The Stormveil Incident.”

“No,” She sat down and looked at me. “And I’ll hear no more of it.”

“Actually,” Balthasar said, turning from the window. “I will give you an answer, and it’s to be the only one you get. By your leave, Miss Rossi?”

Sheena nodded.

“What happened in the Stormveil is inconsequential in the grand scheme, but I will tell you, my girl, that it changed you. Your memories were fractured upon your return, but most assuredly, you would have noticed subtle changes. Perhaps you felt more of a moral obligation toward your servants, or maybe you developed a distaste for your father’s appetite for war. All of that aside, when I heard that you had chosen to become Lyra, I was able to breathe easy; it was your due, and it was a long time coming. Rest assured, Lyra, you are who wanted to be. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Wait,” I shook my head “What does-”

“Enough!” Sheena cut me off. “You have your answer, and it is the only one you will have, ever! Do you understand?”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I sighed and slammed myself back into the seat, exhaling and looking at the riveted ceiling of the undercarriage.

“Lyra!” She hissed. “Do. Not! You do not throw yourself back into the seat; you comport yourself as a lady!”

“Look, Sheena,” I rolled my eyes. “If I’d know that you were going to be a bitch about the matter then maybe I wouldn’t have-” I stopped speaking as I noticed Balthasar turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the cabin. He vanished through the sliding door, presumably toward the cockpit. I turned slowly and met Sheena’s gaze; it was cold, but not angry.

“Up,” she pointed past her, toward the empty space beside the aisle, nearest the window. Cautiously, I walked past her and stood just in front of the window; below, steeples and roofs passed by. Sheena rose from her seat and walked behind me, pacing quietly until finally, she spoke. “Backside, or legs?”

“What?”

“Place your hands against the window ledge and lift your skirts.”

“Wait, Sheena-”

Ten or so minutes later, we were disembarking across another steel and glass gangplank. Balthasar walked behind us, and I kept my position beside Sheena, barely.

“You will learn our customs,” She assured me as I walked with a pronounced limp. “you must learn them, and so I will be hard on you. Take it as a learning experience, Lyra. Stand up straight and walk, don’t slump. You are a lady, it is what you wanted to be, so be it.”

Before I could say anything, she unfolded a black cloak and laid it on my shoulders, pulling a deep hood up over my head.

I kept up with her as best I could with my backside practically burning with every single step. We took a lift down from the docking tower; the city becoming larger and larger with every passing floor. As it came to a stop, the lift lurched and the door opened onto huge room that prompted me to back up into the lift as I beheld the swathes of people moving from one place to another. Bright dresses, dull suits, the clapping of cork and leather against the floor. Sheena guided me through the crowd as Balthasar trailed along behind us. A group of small children shot from the crowd; a boy and two girls talking and laughing as they darted between us, brushing my skirts and prompting a look of amusement from Sheena.

The entire affair was strange to me; docking stations in Axock were just that - they were simple spires that played host to five or six docking stations, and the concourse at the bottom was always a white and gray, drab space with droves of people standing silently, waiting for connecting flights. What I saw here was a bright contrast; women in colorful dresses, vendors selling food and souvenirs from carts alongside the edge of the concourse. A scent of hogsmeat cooking over an open flame, the pouring and spraying of soda, the vague scent of alcohol, all floating through the concourse to create a complete picture of commerce. The movement of the people, the noise, all of it was too much. I found myself exhaling and inhaling heavily; I wanted to stop, but Sheena pushed us through the crowed, and moments later, I found myself in the back of a motorcar.

“It was kind of your father to send the car,” Balthasar noted as we sat down. The motor rumbled to life as Sheena gave instructions to the driver. The large-wheeled vehicle began to move through the streets, spoked tires clanking against uneven cobblestone. “Though not nobility, your family certainly enjoys privilege.”

“Here, in Klocby,” She said. “You will come to realize, certainly that the nobility is the ruling class and has no bearing on wealth.”

“Still,” Balthasar mused. “That you chose to enter service rather than move to a more formidable position…”

“So as you might be aware,” Sheena informed him. “The position of First Girl of House Jenwise makes a formidable resume entry.”

“In Axock that would be a death sentence,” Balthasar did his best to avoid laughing, but his attempt transformed into a snort that was quickly terminated as he brought a hand to cover his mouth.

“Are you, okay, Lyra?” She asked me; I looked up in surprise and she cocked her head. “Lyra I care for your well being and if you believe I enjoy tormenting you then you have misunderstood the situation. I expect of you what others will expect of you. You would do well to learn this.”

“Okay,” I nodded weakly, still suffering from the shock of the concourse. “Yes…I…I mean yes Elder Sister.”

I turned to avoid her gaze and leaned my head against the glass of the motorcar, watching the streets go by through a tinted aperture. It was much the same as the dock; people walking, talking, laughing. Vendors selling, children running, shouting. A young boy ran up to the motor car and tapped on the window as we lumbered our way through the street, and Sheena noticed my quick reaction of surprise.

“I will ask again, Lyra,” Sheena said. “Are you quite okay?”

“It’s loud,” I said.

“City life will do that,” She nodded. I expected her to ask if Axock had been any different, but instead she turned and observed the scene outside the window.

“It wasn’t like this in Axock,” I offered apologetically.

“There will be no more talk of Axock,” She said simply without offering further explanation. “Acknowledge me.”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

The motor car pulled down a brief driveway and stopped at the front door of a house. It wasn’t a palace by any means, but it was fairly large. The exterior featured a concrete patio that stretched across a full third of the house sheltered beneath stone awning supported by six intricately carved pillars. I looked to Sheena nervously as we approached the house but she either failed to notice my apprehension or simply paid no mind to it.

“I have two sisters,” She was telling me suddenly, as if we’d already been engaged in conversation. “They are both older than you, and you will pay them the proper respect. They will expect it, and you will give it, am I understood?”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I said, still stumbling over the words. Though all of this had happened, I was still having a hard time fully accepting it. The very idea that I was subservient to someone else felt comforting but in many ways it was also appealing and I had to fight everything in my nature to go along with it. But, then again, what choice did I have. If I said no, she would punish me. If I caused a problem, I could face execution. Not for the first time, I found myself wondering why she had chosen to give me her name, to absorb me into her family; it might have been better for both of us if she’d just allowed me to choose my own name. I could try to run, but would I make it outside of the city walls? Ultimately I was stuck at Sheena’s whim, but at least she didn’t seem to bear me any ill will. That was something, at least.

Sheena opened the door and ushered me into the foyer where to my surprise, the entire family stood waiting.

“Mother, father, sisters,” Sheena said, walking in with my hand in hers. “I present to you the newest member of our family, Lyra.”

The fall of Hybra was not necessarily an economic disaster, though it did sever us from our supply of precious gems and metals. Rather, it was a time of great upset as we realized that even gods could fall, and we couldn’t help but wonder if we would be next.

-Lord Radon, ‘On the fall of the Ma’Kur’

“Sheena, my dear, welcome home,” Martin Rossi extended a hug to his daughter who begrudgingly returned it, and then did the same for her mother. They stood in Martin’s study at the rear of the house; a tall casement window overlooked a sprawling green yard endowed with an oval-shaped concrete fountain. Martin gestured for his daughter to sit on one of the padded mahogany chairs nearest his towering bookcase.

“I’ve prepared tea, dear,” Mother gestured to the porcelain tea set on the small table just before the chairs accompanied by a plate of small sandwiches, sugar cubes, and salt extract. Compared to the dishes and utensils that she’d become accustomed to in the servant’s dining room, these seemed to be extravagant.

“Well,” Father said, straightening his tie and giving his jacket a tug before taking a seat himself. “How was your-”

“You’re a terrible person, father,” Sheena glared at him from across the table before snatching a teacup and pouring. “what is it to mean, that a servant delivers me a message stating: ‘The car will be at the Market Station in the morning’? Might I have had a little more time to prepare?”

“Sheena,” Her father chuckled. “You put Micah Lavoric, son of everyone’s favorite dictator in a dress and gave him the Rossi name without so much as a word or blessing from us, how would you like us to respond?”

“I had hours to prepare her!” Sheena protested. “Just hours to ingrain years worth of proper behavior into her! Just how do you think that went?”

“Given that beautiful curtsey and eloquent greeting she gave,” Mother said, sipping her tea. “I’d say it went well.”

“Anything is possible when you resort to physical violence,” Sheena huffed, prompting a raised eyebrow from her father. Mother simply laughed.

“So you’ll raise her the way your sisters raised you then,” Mother mused. “Fitting.”

“You know very well it wasn’t like that at all! Yes, my sisters were stern at time but they gave me adequate time to acclimate. I may as well have discharged a pistol in Lyra’s face!”

“But did it need to be that extreme, dear?” Mother questioned.

“Had I shown up with an unprepared, you would have noticed immediately,” Sheena pointed out. “We may not be noble, but it doesn’t stop you from running your house like it.”

“To more important matters,” Father interrupted, clearing his throat and producing a brown file folder. He opened it and held a scanned a sheet within. “the reports from the High Lady’s staff state that this Lyra is a valuable addition to the household staff and that while she is a bit mischevious, she acts as any other girl her age. Promising, but we have the Lavoric part to deal with. Balthasar, I believe you have something to add?”

“The truth,” Balthasar said, stepping forward from the corner of the room. “is very difficult to hear. That girl out there is not-”

“What is she doing, in any case?” Mother interrupted as she rose from her chair and crossed the room. She cracked the study door and peered outward, then returned to her chair. “They’re fawning over her like a newborn puppy.”

“Good sign, I would suppose,” Father mused.

“You were saying, Balthasar?” Sheena tried to rush the aging soldier alone.

“The truth is that the girl, Lyra, is not Micah Lavoric, and I do not mean this in a philosophical sense. Micah Lavoric died inside the Stormveil.”

“In what manner?” Father asked, suddenly far more interested.

“I gutted the boy and strangled him with his own intestines,” Balthasar shrugged. “It was no easy feat, given the amount of time we were inside the Stormveil and the adversaries we faced, it should be of no surprise that he picked up a trick or two.”

“How long, precisely?” Father asked. Balthasar gave no answer.

“Then who is in my sitting room right now?” Mother demanded. “It surely seems like-”

“An echo, perhaps,” Balthasar shrugged. “seemingly uninfluenced by Stephen Lavoric’s unique moral code. I have shared this information with the Lady Jenwise, and while it took some time for her to believe me, she will arrange a pardon based on your recommendation.

“That will depend on what we see here today,” Father said. “and whether or not I wish to allow her the Rossi name.”

“In an any case,” Balthasar said. “No matter your final decision, your debt to me is repaid, I cannot ask you to bring your family to ruination, only that you give the girl a fair chance. I will, of course, wash my hands of this entire affair.”

“Then you no longer wish to stay in contact with the girl?” Mother frowned. “That seems extreme.”

“A normal, well-balanced teenage girl does not need a crusty old general hanging around as a reminds of past misdeeds,” Balthasar pointed out. “Best to distance her from all of this.”

“If this interview goes well, then I tend to agree,” Father nodded. “What would she do? Other than being tormented by her older sisters?”

“That, is a full time job,” Mother smirked. “and one I think one that Sheena will markedly enjoy.”

“The girl will need to be educated,” Father said, decidedly. “Which means removing her from that service position. On that matter, how long do you plan to remain in the high Lady’s Employ, Sheena?”

“The High Lady has offered me a letter of recommendation as early as next season,” Sheena said. “It ought give her time to find a suitable replacement.”

“Then,” Father rubbed his hands together and rose from his chair. “Colleen, I presume lunch is prepared?”

“You know it is, dear,” Mother said, rising and crossing the room. “Shall we meet with Lyra, then?”

“Of course,” Father said. “The sooner we meet with her, the sooner I can reject her and revoke Sheena’s inheritance.”

“Father, you are such a jokester,” Sheena rolled her eyes as she followed them.

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

I didn’t have a word to describe how uncomfortable I was as I sat there in the drawing room with Sheena’s two sisters. They had introduced themselves as Elizabeth and Desi, respectively. Elizabeth had long curly hair that hung about her face, resting on her shoulders. Desi’s was straight, though I felt that likely had something to do with heat. Unlike me, they were dressed a bit more liberally with only Desi wearing a bodice over a bright pink dress. Elizabeth wore a dark shade of green, though somehow hers didn’t make her look like a giant flag. These were my thoughts as I regarded the Rossi family seal fixed prominently over the fireplace near the front of the room. The girls, both likely in their early thirties chatted happily amongst themselves, occasionally asking me a question and then returning to their conversation without waiting for an answer, or talking over me just as I started to speak. Finally, I lost track of the entire conversation and started to crane my neck, looking for Sheena. I peered through an open door on the other end of the drawing room which seemed to lead to a kitchen; and near the foyer, I was able to peek up the stairs, at least a little, and see a landing. Sheena was nowhere to be found.

“Are you looking for something, Lyra?” Desi perked up as she saw me looking about the room. “Do you need more tea, dear?”

“Oh, I bet her tea’s gone cold,” Elizabeth said as she stood and pulled the cup still-hot cup from my hand. She trotted off toward the kitchen and I blinked as I heard the sound of liquid pouring into the wash basin. She returned moments later to pour me a fresh cup and placed it in my hands. “Do you like salt or sugar hon? I like sugar myself, but with you being…well…you…”

“Oh I…I like sugar,” I lied, and Elizabeth’s eyes lit up a she dropped two cubes into the tea. 

“I like her!” Elizabeth said, returning to the couch. “She’s got a taste for the feminine.”

“I uh…where did Sheena go?” I asked suddenly as I felt the color flush from my cheeks. They stopped their conversation and looked at me curiously; Desi laughed. 

“Are you nervous, dear?” Elizabeth asked, her lips pulling upward to hint at a smile.

“We have that effect on people,” Desi laughed. 

“Truly,” Elizabeth agreed. Elsewhere in the house, I heard a door handle click, followed by a set of footsteps. Balthasar came first, emerging from the back of the house and towering over me in his blue military uniform.

“I’ll be just outside, girl,” He nodded to me. “back by sunset, bear it in mind.”

As Balthasar exited the house, I turned my attention to Sheena and her parents. Sheena widened her eyes at me and made a slight jerking motion with her head, which prompted me to leap from the couch and perform a rushed curtsey, to which Elizabeth giggled. Her father was a well-built man with rough hands and a head of graying hair and while he seemed important, he wore only a white button down shirt, a pair of black slacks, and red suspenders. I could see the faint hint of an oil stain on his sleeve, leading into rough leathery hands that had clearly seen their fair share of work.

Her mother on the other hand had dressed for the occasion; she wore a form fitting black gown that complimented her long golden hair. The sleeves came down to just above her elbows and at the waist, a white sash brought the entirety of the outfit together. 

“I..uh…hello,” I said, my eyes darting around the room as I tried to remember just what I was supposed to do.

“How long did you say you had to prepare her, Sheena?” Her father glanced back; Sheena shrugged. “Lyra, my name is Martin Rossi, this is my wife, Colleen, and of course, you have already made acquaintance of my daughters.”

“Yes sir,” I said quickly and quietly. 

“Well then,” Martin Rossi said. “Let us discuss.”

Sheena stepped beside me and indicated that I should take a seat on the chair that I was originally in. We all sat, and I suffered a prolonged silence that was filled only by the ticking of the clock. 

“Well,” Colleen, Sheena’s mother finally spoke. “I should like to open by explaining that Sheena’s decision to bestow the Rossi family name upon you was…an interesting move. Such decisions are typically made…”

“Never,” Martin finished for her. “Families don’t adopt people on a whim, and simply giving someone a name means nothing, but the weight behind the Rossi name, well, that is most definitely something to take into consideration. You have the name, question is, do we embrace you, or do we publicly rebuke you?”

“Sir I-” I started to speak, but Sheena interrupted me.

“I want to start perhaps with the reason I did this. Let us speak of the boy, Micah, who came to us more than a month past-”

“That is the problem, Sheena,” Martin interrupted. “You’ve known him for just over a month? And before that, your only knowledge of him came from the misdeeds of Lord Micah Lavoric. What is it that possessed you to give our family name to a killer?”

“I would speak, father,” Sheena said insistently. He sighed and gestured for her to continue. “The Micah Lavoric I’ve heard of is…well, a horrible person but also one with an unmistakable air of authority, one with conviction and certainty. I have heard of the cruelty of Lord Lavoric’s son, but that day, in the Lady’s office, when they sent him to us in naught but prison rags, I knew that the man before me was not Micah Lavoric. This was not a man, but a boy, and he was frightened. Aye, you might not remember it Lyra, or mayhap you remember it as you please, but you were shaking like a leaf. I almost felt sorry for you, but I kept having to remind myself of who you were. But, as time went on, I saw far less of Micah Lavoric, and more of Lyra. A new person in an old body. When the High Lady was ready to expose her in front of her father to prove a point, I knew that a decision had to be made. Father, mother, you have taught me many things. You taught me business, you taught me the inner workings of clocks, you showed me politics, the nature of the printed word but you also taught me to do what is right. You taught me to never let a person suffer unduly when you have the ability to step in and save them. The High Lady was wrong to do this to her.”

“I heard you called her the ‘High Bitch,” Colleen said, raising an eyebrow and shaking her head. “Did we teach you that too?”

“You taught me to speak up when necessary. I did as you taught, and I hold no regrets.”

“And what of…all this?” Martin indicated me, waving his hand. “You…you’ll continue to dress like this? And to wear cosmetics, and be known by a girl’s name? Is that not exhausting? How do you keep it up?” 

“Yes sir,” I said. “It is exhausting but…this is who I am. Ever since the others began helping me, it’s hurt a little less to look in the mirror, and for the first time I feel alive, as if I have a purpose. Before I was no one, I was just existing, but now…I…I believe there might be a future.”

“and I want you to see that future, Lyra,” Sheena said to me. 

“Lyra,” Colleen said. “The Rossi name comes with some prestige, and as such, responsibility. My question for you, is what would you do if we rejected Sheena’s proposal? What if you found yourself permanently in the palace, working in service?”

“Then,” I took a deep breath and prepared myself. “I would still be me. I would still live, and I’d still be satisfied when I looked in the mirror.”

“What do you want to do with your life, Lyra?” Martin asked, nodding at my previous answer. “Sheena is…well she’s preparing for an illustrious career, I am certain, but Elizabeth is an architect, Desi, a librarian. My wife is famous in printing, and as for myself, clocks. We all do important works for the community, what would you do?”

“I don’t know, sir,” I admitted. “I…haven’t had much a chance to think about it.”

“Indeed,” He nodded. “Well, there is much to consider. All in all, Lyra, you don’t seem a bad person, but this isn’t a decision that we can make lightly. You do understand of course.”

I nodded. “Yes sir, I understand. I was taken aback as well, but I hope that I have made a favorable impression.”

“Oh of course you have!” Elizabeth practically squealed, prompting Martin and Colleen to turn their heads and stare at her for what seemed like a full minute before looking back at me. 

“Colleen has prepared a lunch for us,” Martin said. “Let us move this discussion to the dining room.”

My worry and nervousness did not cease even as we entered the dining room and I laid eyes on a spread of sandwiches and lemon tarts. We took our places at the table, me sitting beside Sheena who instructed me to take a sandwich from the tray. 

“Use your utensils,” She whispered to me as she saw me reaching for it on my plate. I watched her with a blank expression until she finally picked up her own fork and knife, using it to cut the sandwich. I copied her, even though I wasn’t certain anyone should eat a sandwich with a knife and fork. 

“Sheena tells us you know how to cook, somewhat,” Colleen said to me from across the table. “is it so?”

“It is,” I nodded. “I learned a few skills from my sister.”

“Very unusual,” Martin said as he stuffed a piece of sandwich into his mouth. “for a boy from Axock, nobility especially, to learn cooking.”

The silence between words was beginning to become unbearable. The situation itself was uncomfortable as was, but the long window along the wall streamed sunlight onto the table, causing a blinding effect against the white surface. I squinted, trying to see Mr. Rossi across the table, all the while, the sound of clinking silverware picked away at my sanity. 

“We…I…my sister and I,” I stammered nervously, trying to think over the sounds of chewing and silverware. “We did much on our own when my father…when…well you see sir, when my father…”

I tried to speak but the words didn’t come; the clattering of silverware, a cough from Colleen, the sound of Elizabeth’s chair screeching as she adjusted it, all of it began to fill my thoughts as I tried to recall the memory. When had my sister taught me how to cook? What had we cooked? No, this wasn’t right. 

“Lyra,” Sheena whispered. “What’s happening? Are you well?”

I shook my head violently and excused myself from the table, nearly knocking over my chair as I bolted from the dining room. My dress swished against the doorway and against the couch as I rushed toward the front door. I had no recollection of opening the front door; the next thing I knew, I was on the walk, doubled over and breathing heavily with Sheena gripping my arms. My face felt cold.

“Sheena,” I said weakly. “I can’t remember what Robin looks like. My sister. I can’t remember her teaching me to cook, I can’t remember….Sheena what did my room in Axock look like?”

“Calm down,” She told me. “What do you remember?” 

“I remember that I had a sister, and I remember that I had a father. I remember I lived in Axock but I…Sheena I can’t…it’s just fading away. I remember everything from the Klocby but…”

“Sheena,” I heard Martin Rossi call her from the patio. I managed to stand up; a single bead of sweat dripped down my brow as I struggled to remain upright. “Let us talk, inside.”

“Give me but a moment,” Sheena said, struggling to keep me on my feet. “Something’s wrong.”

“Sheena,” Martin said, taking a step forward as Colleen and her daughters remained on the patio. Balthasar stood just by the gate, observing the situation. “The boy is obviously touched in the head. He thinks himself a girl and now this episode? Sheena, it pains me to say it, but your time in that…place has been less than beneficial. You are…exhibiting strange ways of thinking.”

“What are you implying, father?” Sheena demanded. “Lyra needs help.”

“Indeed he does!” Marin said angrily. “and ‘tis help we cannot provide! Philanthropy is a strong tradition in the Rossi household, Sheena, but I think it is time for you to consider moving forward with your life and career! We will send Micah back to the palace grounds and you will come inside. This is not a negotiation, Sheena.”

“I’m sorry, Lyra,” Sheena said, turning to me. “Balthasar, please accompany Lyra back to the palace grounds.”

“Sheena wait,” I protested as Balthasar stepped forward and guided me toward the still-waiting motorcar. 

“You’ll be fine, Lyra,” She said to me as she shut the door behind me.

The ride back was uneventful, I spent it with my head laid against the window of the motorcar, small sobs escaping my throat every time I thought too much about the current situation. Finally, we were back on the airship, just myself and Balthasar. 

“Do you think I’m weak?” I asked him. He frowned at me. 

“What do you mean, girl?” He asked me.

“Do you think I’m weak?” I repeated the question.

“Girl,” He said. “you’re asking me to assess you based upon a metric that no longer exists, established in a place that either of us hardly recall. How should you like me to answer that?”

“I guess,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat and wiping my eyes. “that once again, you are my only friend.”

“Ass that you are,” he laughed. 

Back at the palace grounds, I removed my green dress and stuffed it into the locker behind my bunk, staring hard at the service outfit hanging neatly on the rack beside the clothes that Miah and Sophie had given me. I should give them back. This place was my home, I was going nowhere, I would never do anything. And that was okay, wasn’t it? That had to be okay, because I was Micah Lavoric, son of tyrant, a stain upon society. I breathed heavily, my shoulders back, my body tense as I looked at the mirror hanging just inside locker. I could see the perfectly painted face, the girl staring back, but who was I fooling? Who the hell was I lying to? Myself? A blood curdling scream escaped my throat as my fists slammed against the mirror, shattering it into four pieces while one lodged in the side of my hand, blood spraying across the hanging clothes. There should have been pain, but there wasn’t. There was only rage, hate, toward myself. 

“Who do you think you are?!” I screamed at myself. “Why did you think you could be this?!”

With a bloodied hand and redness seeping down my arm, I tore the clothes from my foot locker and threw them onto the floor. In a blind range I ripped every item from my foot locker and threw them as hard as I could. The cosmetics kit, extra blankets, my hygiene supplies. Shoes. I punches the locker; blood sprayed, more screams escaped my throat as I kicked my bunk as hard as possible, sending a searing pain up my leg. I stumbled and tripped, my ankle spraining as I fell forward and slammed my head against the adjacent bunk. It didn’t stop me; I dragged myself to my feet, still crying still screaming. 

“Fraud!” I screamed as I caught a glimpse of myself in a shard of mirror that had fallen on the floor. “Fake fake fake! Liar!”

My bloodied hand wrapped around the shard as I thought about the way my face had been painted. It was a lie. All a lie. I was lying to myself, to Sheena, to Balthasar, to everyone. They hated me, they were just playing along with me because they had to. I held the shard to my face, pressing the glass against my forehead.

“I’m not her,” I sobbed. “I’m not her, I’m-”

Suddenly, my hand jerked away from my face, a familiar hand encircling my wrist. She was there, in front of me. No, it had to be my imagination. Why would she be back for me? Why? 

“Lyra!” She shouted, tightening her grip on my wrists and shaking me. “Lyra look at me! Look at me now!”

“I’m not Lyra!” I screamed. “It’s all a lie! It’s lie!”

I felt more hands on me; I could see the vague outline of Jen, and then Miah. 

“Lyra,” Miah said to me as she squeezed my shoulder. “tis not a lie, you are Lyra.”

“No!” I spat, trying to stand up and utterly failing as pain shot through my ankle and the hands of my former friends pushed me to the floor.

“Oh you’d better be,” Sheena shouted back. “Because my father told me he’d disinherit me if I came back here. Guess what, Lyra, here I am!”

“Sheena?” I choked, looking at her through blurry eyes. “Are you here?” 

“I am here,” She confirmed. “I’m not moving until you come to your senses, and by fen and fern I won’t leave you behind just because my father has it in his mind you’re something you’re not.”

“We are all here,” Jen said. “and as are you, Lyra.”

“Lyra…” I said; the word burned in my throat as the last of Micah began to fade away.

“That’s right,” Sheena said, drawing me close to her. “You are Lyra, my sister, today, and every day.”

Once believed to be a gift from the Goddess herself, advances in the field of botany have come to show that the luminescence exhibited by the Hilter fern, seen across Fadraiye is a biological phenomenon. The roots of the fern, in their nocturnal form, secrete a bioluminescent substance that reacts with the soil around it. While the fern is luminous on its own, those that grow near the fens of the Marshlands are especially notable as they react with the peat moss, manifesting a pool of glowing light.

-On Fadraiye Plant Life - Page 1087

“Come in,” Sheena responded to the knock at her office door. It opened and Kayla stepped in swiftly, a large binder tucked under her arm. “How did Jen perform in my absence?”

“Terribly,” Kayla sighed. “But that mayhap well be that you and I work so well together.”

“You could say,” Sheena agreed. Kayla approached the desk and dropped the binder; it thudded and bounced against the surface, shaking the gold-plated reading lamp that Sheena had been using to read a list of room reports.

“Might I ask what happened with Lyra?” Kayla asked, prompting Sheena to look up from the list. “There’s buzz about it.”

“The meeting with my family did not go as…planned,” Sheena said slowly as she tried to gather her thoughts for the impending conversation. “I have been…disinherited, over my affiliation with Lyra.”

“Sheena,” Kayla said, sitting in one of the plush chairs opposite the desk. “you have known Lyra for how many days? A month? Perhaps more? You would cut your familial connections over that? You should never have named her your sister!”

“You would be right,” Sheena admitted. “if it were solely about Lyra. Maybe Lyra is an excuse.”

“An excuse?”

“An excuse to go my own way. I tire of being controlled by finances.”

“You do know, Sheena,” Kaya leaned forward in the chair and dropped her inflection just slightly. “Some of us would be partial to having those sorts of money problems.”

“We have much to do today,” Sheena changed the subject quickly, opening the binder that Kayla had dumped onto the desk. “In the Vice quarter, there are complaints about sticky floors, smudged windows, missing lavatory sheets. We’ll round together and see what we can see, and talk no further of my personal decisions.”

“What of Lyra?” Kayla asked as they departed, papers in hand.

“Lyra lies in the hospital quarter as we speak,” Sheena said quickly. “Hopefully contemplating the consequences of destroying half of the dorm.”

“Surely it was nowhere near that bad,” Kayla rolled her eyes. “I heard tell that she threw some things.”

“A grave outburst, unbecoming of a lady, but one she will learn from, I hope,” Sheena said. “though I must say it wasn’t entirely unwarranted.”

They took a brief set of stairs and turned a corner, walking parallel to the staircase and using a door to emerge onto the main concourse, ultimately ending up in the Octagon. They took the left hallway, leading to the Vice.

“How was it warranted?” Kayla asked. “A young lady, especially one in this establishment does not suffer outbursts. Anyone else would have found themselves on the street within the hour.”

“I would say, perhaps, I pushed her too hard. I need her to understand Klocby customs where it pertains to siblings, she must learn to defer to my judgement.”

“Must she really?” Kayla smirked as they stopped outside a lavatory. “Could you not excuse her due to her nationality? What would she know of serving an older sibling, or another in any case? Perhaps you can, say, let it slide?”

“Kayla, be serious,” Sheena rolled her eyes. “Axock is a slave nation, of course she understand what it means to defer to another.”

“Oh this is indeed a problem,” Kayla said as she stepped into the lavatory and listened to the sound of her rubber-soled shoes sticking to the slate. “How does this happen?”

“Shouldn’t,” Sheena curled her lip in disgust. “none of the cleaning supplies are sticky, and unless someone spilled fruit juice on the floor…”

“We ought call Elric,” Kayla suggested as she hopped from one foot to another, causing Sheena to cringe at the sound of rubber soles tearing from the sticky service. “His boys’d get a buffer down here. Elsewise someone would have to scrub on hands and knees.”

“What we ought do,” Sheena said, scratching her head and then placing one hand on her hip. “is find who was to clean this room and ‘ave them on hands and knees.”

“Perhaps not…” Kayla cocked her head, smiling a bit.

“Lyra?” Sheena asked, mildly exasperated.

“Lyra,” Kayla confirmed.

They left the lavatory, and Sheena used a talky box to alert environmental. They continued walking until they came to the next lavatory, once again finding the floor sticky.

“How?” Sheena demanded. “how is this possible?”

“You smell that?” Kayla sniffed the air. Sheena joined her, tilting her head and giving a few short sniffs.

“Lemon,” Sheena observed.

“Why?”

“Tis silly,” Sheena said. “One of the girls, Sophia if I recall, told her lemon was good for clearin’ the pipes. Mayhap she though it was good enough for the floors too.”

“How long since the floor’s been cleaned then?”

“Two days, would put it,” Sheena said, almost angrily. “A conversation must be had.”

“What if, perhaps, you tell Lyra that while she’ll defer to your judgement, her opinion will be heard?” Kayla suggested. “She’s not to be your servant, after all.”

“The younger sister defers to the older sister in all things until she reaches the age of majority,” Sheena said firmly. “The girl isn’t one and twenty yet, so long as my eyes don’t deceive me. Besides, Kayla, she cleaned two floors with lemon juice and you want me to hear her opinion?”

“Admittedly,” Kayla said. “She hasn’t made such a good case for herself, given the cleaning, and the outburst, and the mass murder, but perhaps she’ll be more agreeable if-”

“Absolutely no,” Sheena stood firm. “We don’t give agency to people her age so long as we can help it. Tis how fifteen year old boys become tyrants. Whether my family is involved or not, Lyra and I will maintain the family structure, which means I control her.”

“I cannot imagine she’ll be agreeable,” Kalya stepped from the lavatory with Sheena in tow.

“Then she’ll meet the rod, as she has before,” Sheena shrugged. “I had reservations about the way it was done before, but if she truly deserves it…”

“Might I make a suggestion then?” Kaya asked as they stopped just in front of a long window overlooking the courtyard and the giant gear.

“By all means,” Sheena rolled her eyes. “But I am not obligated to listen.”

“She is immobilized at the moment, so give her some reading. A book on Klocby familial traditions. Surely there would be one in the library.”

“Let her learn from a book?” Sheena almost gasped. “Surely you don’t believe it’s a substitute for-”

“First girl!” A servant gasped, running down the hall. “The High Lady wishes to speak with you!”

“That didn’t take long,” Kayla shook her head. “I wish you luck.”

The walk to the High Lady’s office didn’t take terribly long, and Sheena found her sitting behind her desk, nose buried in a book.

“Greetings High Lady,” Sheena said, giving the customary curtsey. “I am present as requested.”

“Sit, Sheena,” The High lady gestured to the seat across from her. Sheena bowed slightly and sat in the chair, straightening her skirt and placing her hands in her lap. “Balthasar filled me in on the situation with your parents, is all well?”

“I have little concern, High Lady,” Sheena said simply.

“Your inheritance?”

“Inconsequential,” Sheena shrugged. “It was an unnecessary weight.”

“Then,” the High Lady said. “You plan to remain in service to House Jenwise past the next season?”

“If the High Lady permits,” Sheena said as respectfully as possible. “I have…many avenues to pursue but would be grateful if I could continue my employment for the time being.”

“An interesting thing you have done,” The High Lady said. “Your father came and demanded that I terminate your employment. I of course denied him; no one will tell me who I can and cannot have in my employ.”

“I appreciate it, High Lady,” Sheena pursed her lips as she tried to imagine her father in a shouting match with the High Lady - as it had undoubtedly been.

“Speak with Lady Myria’s clerks before the end of the week,” The High Lady said. “A wage increase will be in order, given the time you have spent here. Now, on to the other matter…”

“The other matter, High Lady?”

“The matter of Lyra, you still plan to take her on, as your sister by law?”

“I considered the matter closed, High Lady,” Sheena said. “She is my sister, by law, and whether my father or mother wish it, I will care for her.”

“And you will teach her our familial traditions?”

“I had planned to stop by the library and pick up a book to begin her training in that matter,” Sheena said. “Though I must admit, I am unclear on which book to get.”

“A good thought,” The High Lady nodded approvingly. “and what of her outburst?”

“My father…rejected her because she was having some trouble with her memories,” Sheena explained. “and perhaps I pushed her too hard. It will not happen again.”

“See to it that it does not,” The High Lady said. “She injured herself severely, we have places for people who endeavor to do such, and none that she will be so fond of. Once she recovers, she will speak with my personal surgeons and we will arrange the procedures. She is also to undergo voice training to rid her of that horrendous male voice. If she is to be a lady, she will be a lady.”

“I understand, High Lady. By your leave, then?”

The High Lady rose and Sheena joined her in walking toward one of the many bookcases lining the walls. The High Lady ran her fingers gingerly across the spines of the books until she stopped on a blue leather-bound volume, which she handed to Sheena. The cover, printed in gold lettering read: ‘Klocby Familial Lore and Traditions’. Sheena turned the volume over in her hands and nodded.

“Thank you, High Lady,” Sheena gave other slight bow and the High Lady nodded.

“See to your sister, Sheena.”

“By your leave, High Lady.”

The trip to the hospital wing was uneventful, though long. Sheena found herself standing before a receptionist in servant gray who gestured vaguely down a hall flanked on each side with doors. Sheena walked to the one that had: ‘L. Rossi’ scrawled in reprehensible handwriting on the plaque beside. Inside the room, Lyra was laid up in the bed with Jen sitting silently by her side in a wicker chair. Of course, Lyra had been considered to self harm, and so an attendant would be needed at all times. Jen probably fit the bill nicely. Sheena breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that her sister hadn’t been left alone in this stuffy room all day.

Lyra wasn’t in great shape but she seemed to be doing far better than yesterday. Her left hand was bandaged, and her foot was set in a splint. She smiled as Sheena entered the room.

“You came!” She said, sounding surprised.

“Did you think I would not?” Sheena raised an eyebrow as she sat beside the bed. “Jen, you may go for a time. I would speak to Lyra.”

“Thank you, First Girl,” Jen said with obvious relief. There was no telling how long she’d been sitting here, but Sheena could tell from the red veins forming in her eyes that it hadn’t been a short period.

“I guess….” Lyra said, looking a fair bit embarrassed. “I didn’t know if you’d want anything to do with me….after. Jen kept telling me but-”

“You ought listen to Jen,” Sheena told her. “She has your best interest at heart, as I do.”

“I…was writing you a letter, to tell you…to explain,” Lyra indicated a folded piece of paper in her lap.

“There’s no need for explanation, little sister,” Sheena said in an almost lecturing tone. “I apologize for being so hard on you, I could have gone about it in a better way. That aside, we will work on your knowledge of Klocby traditions. I am your elder sister, you will defer to my judgements and you will use the correct honorifics for the situation.”

“What about your other sisters?”

“Until I say otherwise,” Sheena told her. “We stand separate from them. You are beholden to me, and me alone.”

“I…understand, I think,” Lyra nodded, shifting beneath the blankets. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I just freaked, you know?”

“Freaked?” Sheena frowned. “What is that?”

“Like…flipped out, flipped my shit. It’s all in the letter.”

“Flipped your…your sh…what is shit? Very well, Lyra, I have brought you a volume, you will read it, you will learn Klocby traditions. I will not be easy on you, but we will learn at a pace that you can handle.”

“How…long do I have to do what you say?” Lyra asked, taking the tome from Sheena’s hands. She winced at the weight of it as slipped from her hand onto her lap.

“Lyra, I am your elder sister, in your life, you should always take my advice into consideration as I have ample experience and can help you in many ways. Legally, however, the Lord Regent of Fadraiye has maintained the age of majority is one and twenty.”

“It wasn’t like that in Axock,” Lyra frowned.

“Read the book, Lyra,” Sheena patted the heavy volume and smiled to Lyra. “And no more talk of Axock, that life is behind you.”

“It would help if I could read it,” Lyra said as she opened the book. “it’s in another language.”

“Goddess,” Sheena laughed. “The High Lady speaks many languages, it’s no surprise that- Lyra, this is in the common tongue.”

“It can’t be,” Lyra frowned. “I can’t read it.”

Sheena stared at the pages and then looked back to Lyra who looked at her expectantly.

“Lyra, this book is in the common tongue. They do speak the common tongue in Axock?”

“Obviously,” Lyra rolled her eyes. “But I can’t read this.”

“Of course you jest,” Lyra rolled her eyes, indicating the folded letter on Lyra’s lap. She reached over and snatched it up. “If you can write, you can read.”

She smiled a little and unfolded the paper, ready to chastise Lyra for her ‘humor’, but found herself looking at unfamiliar symbols and sentence structures. Sheena looked from the paper, then back to Lyra, her confusion growing with each passing second.

“Lyra, what language is this?”

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’

I cursed in a rather unladylike fashion as I pushed my entire weight into the baseboard outside the fourth corridor of the Octagon. The rag in my hand dragged against the board, emitting a muffled scraping sound as I tried in vain to remove the dirt buildup. It had stained at this point; I wondered how long it had been since someone had come this way with a rag. As I bent downward and grunted, I let out a high pitched squeal as pain radiated through my ankle. I shouted in surprise as I fell over, tipping my bucket of cleaning solution and spilling it across the tile floor. I immediately became drenched in the scent of ammonia as it soaked into my dress; I stared at the ceiling and breathed roughly, inhaling the fumes and letting out a labored cough.

“By the Goddess,” I said angrily as I turned onto my side and forced myself back to my feet. 

“Are you certain you can work?” Sheena had asked me

“It’s been three weeks, Sheena,” I said rather impudently. “I feel fine.”

She had scowled at my use of her name, insisting that I referred to her as Elder Sister or First Girl. What was wrong with a name, anyway? 

I leaned against the brass handrail that ran the perimeter of The Octagon and tested my weight on the injured ankle. 

“Okay, it seems fine,” I said to no one in particular. And then the pain struck, shooting through the bone and causing an inhuman shriek to filter through my throat as I struggled to keep myself upright. It didn’t work; the sudden movement saw me slipping on the cleaning solution and rocketing toward the ground while simultaneously shooting forward, slipping across the Octagon and slamming into the wall of the fifth corridor. “Ow.”

Someone that I perceived to be a nobleman strode through the Octagon, giving me only a cursory glance before he disappeared down another hallway. It took some time before I was able to work my way to my feet again, doing my best to get away from the ever-expanding puddle on the floor. I made it to a carpeted section and tried to stand again, only to experience that sharp pain that felt more like an insult than a disability. I leaned against the wall and cried, oscillating sobs not accompanied by tears. In truth it probably sounded like a dying animal to anyone unfortunate enough to be on the other end of the hallway. I gripped the handrail, trying to drag myself along, passing a talky box which probably would have saved me, had I not been so stubborn. The last thing I wanted was Sheena rushing down the hall to save me - becoming yet another reason why I couldn’t have my own independence. I waited for a few moments, teeth gritted and back to the wall before finally working up the courage to try setting my ankle down again. 

“There, it’s fine,” I said triumphantly as I tried my weight on it. Cautiously, I took a step, then another, then another. These episodes came and went, but I had neglected to tell Sheena about it. I’d been stuck in my bunk for three weeks, staring at the same ceiling, unable to even read, apparently. Jen had come by a few times, recounting the events of her day and I’d never felt more jealous at someone for having the opportunity to clean a latrine. No, I was not going back to that bed. I continued down the hall for a moment, then turned to return to the Octagon where I could clean up my mess. Then the pain came again, knives shooting through my ankle, forcing another scream from my throat as I tumbled over and slammed into the floor. 

My next scream was one of pure rage; I slammed my fist into the ground, prompting even more pain but this time through my arm. I pounded the floor again, flipping over onto my back, and to my horror, seeing a man standing over me.

“Lyra, are you quite alright?” The man asked.

“My Lord!” I said without thinking as I tried to push myself to my feet. “I apologize, I-”

“Lyra, I am no ‘Lord’,” The man said with annoyance. “Do you not recognize me? I drew up your contract the night of the Summit, the contract that renounced your noble title.”

Of course. Keniel Rosas. The scribe. He helped me to my feet and I could see him clearly now; a man in his forties perhaps, graying hair at his sideburns, the blue cord of the scribes hanging at his shoulder. Not a noble, but close enough. 

“I’m sorry,” I breathed heavily. “It’s just that-”

“Your ankle,” He said. “Yes, I heard. Seems folly to be walking about on it.”

“I like to be useful, I guess,” I said, feeling rather foolish.

“So useful that you’re flopping about the corridor like a fish out of water?” He shook his head. “Come then, let us clean you up.”

“That isn’t necessary sir,” I said, trying to pull away from him as he gripped my arm to keep me upright.

“What’s unnecessary, Lyra, is you being so eager to live a life of servitude that you hobble around making a mess of things. Servants are given so few breaks, try taking advantage when they’re offered.”

I didn’t say much, other than a few moans and the sound of my feet stumbling occasionally as he took me into what I’d perceived to be an office, but when we entered, I saw it was much more than that. The room was large; not the size of the ParDar field, but perhaps half that size. Much of it was occupied with large wooden desks, the rest with machinery that dominated the ambiance of the space with the clicking and grinding of gears and the swish of paper as it passed over steel rollers. I swiveled my head, observing the complexity of the room that we had just entered; it was disorganized at least to my eyes with stacks of paper loosely sitting on the desks, quills in ink wells, stamps, pens, leather-bound books of varying colors piled unevenly atop one another. 

“What is this place?” I asked in absolute wonder as Keniel fingered through a stack of parchment, licking his finger once to get a better grip on the pages. 

“You cannot tell me, with conviction, that you have never seen a scribery,” He cast me an annoyed look. “What do nobles do all day in Axock?”

“I can’t remember,” I answered honestly. I had a cursory knowledge of my life there but something was wrong; the visual images were fading fast, leaving me with what felt more like the memory of a novel. “What is this?”

Keniel looked at the machine I’d indicated, right in front of me.

“A typewriter,” He said offhandedly. “Surely you know of them.”

“How…how does it work?” I was fascinated by the machine; the sleek black exterior, the stained white keys, a shiny metal handle on the right hand side. It was beautiful. 

“Well, Lyra,” He said impatiently. “You put the paper in, you press the keys, words come out. Simple machine, if you want to get into something more complex, perhaps the printing press or the monogrammer. 

“Can…can you show me?” I asked eagerly as I leaned forward in the chair and was rewarded by a searing pain assaulting my ankle again. 

“Very well,” He sighed and snatched a blank sheet of paper, feeding it through the machine and pushing what appeared to be a long cylinder across until it clicked into place. “You see the keys there? You simply type whatever you wish to put on the paper, one letter at a time.”

I froze as I stared down at the keys, each one white and painted with an unfamiliar symbol. Timidly, I ran my fingers over the keys and then frowned.

“This is embarrassing, Kenial,” I said. “I…well, I’ve found that I cannot read, or write.”

“That’s a laugh,” Keniel said, walking away and returning to his stack of papers. “Lord Micah Lavoric of Axock didn’t know how to read. No, wait, that oughtn’t be that surprising. Humorous if you delve too deep into it.”

“I beg your pardon sir, but I don’t think it all that funny.”

“I know not what to tell you, Lyra,” He said evenly, snatching a piece of paper and stuffing it into a binder. “People find many things funny. I for one, find that the evil tyrant of Axock not teaching his only son to read, patently hilarious. Tell me, was your upbringing meant as an elaborate joke?”

I ignored the insult and pressed down on one of the white keys, frowning as nothing happened. I pressed down a little harder and noticed the little lever near the front of the device beginning to move. Finally, I pushed it hard enough that it slammed against the sheet of paper, leaving a small symbol in green ink. I cocked my head, then tried another.

“It’s just that…when I write, it comes out all jumbled,” I shrugged. “No one can read it but me.”

“Jumbled? Well then,” He walked over to me, a sheet of paper and quill in hand. “Let us see.”

I looked at the paper a bit nervously, the silence between us filled by the clanking of machines and the perpetual blast of the air ducts above which barely managed to stave off the heat. 

“What…should I write?” I asked him, rolling the quill in my hands and looking nervously at the page.

“Write whatever you wish, I suppose,” He shrugged. “Let us see this ‘jumbled’ writing of yours. 

I shrugged wrote ‘Whatever you Wish’ in the center of the paper, the quill dragged against the parchment, leaving behind lines of green ink as I formed the words - or at least as I thought I formed the words. I sighed heavily as I realized that my words were not coming out correctly. I had been trying for weeks, and still I could only write nonsensical symbols. Well, nonsensical to everyone else - they made perfect sense to me. 

“Write something else,” Keniel suggested, bending over and leaning against the desk. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck now; he had grown more interested and watched with great interest as I scrawled ‘Something else’ onto the sheet. “Try writing out an entire sentence, say…’The King will Sing and Eat Under the Eaves’.”

“That’s a tad silly,” I glance at him, but he pointed, indicating the paper. I turned and took a deep breath, placing the quill against the paper and scratching out the sentence. He finally took the paper from the desk and held it out in front of him. He stepped away from the desk, leaving me to peck at keys on the typewriter as he paced the room, studying the page. As I pecked out symbols, I began to forget about the pain in my ankle and eventually it faded entirely. Finally, he returned with another sheet of blank paper.

“Lyra,” He said. “Would you write the Letragraph for me?” 

“The…what?” I looked up at him, horribly confused. 

“The Letragraph,” He said. “Write down all of the letters that you could use to make a sentence. Start at the beginning, wherever that may be.”

“You are saying that…you wish me to write you a sheet of nonsense?” It was almost laughable.

“If you would not mind, yes,” Kenial said, a serious expression painting his face as I turned my head to regard him. “Humor me, please.”

 I bit my lip and placed the quill against the upper left hand corner of the paper. 

“A question,” He said, prompting me to stop writing. “you start your writing from the top corner?”

“I…of course,” I said. “Where else would one begin writing?”

“Interesting. Do go on,” He waved his hand as I began to scratch the letters. “Wait, the symbols, do they have iterations?” 

“Iterations?”

“The symbols in the common tongue are separated into four types, we call them iterations. Iteration one is the largest, used at the beginning of a sentence, iteration two is every symbol falling. Third and fourth are for emphasis. So, imagine, you are writing the symbol for ‘grass’. If you wish to put emphasis, you would draw a line from the top corner, to the bottom, and then cross the line in the center. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I think so,” I nodded. Beside the first symbol, I wrote a different symbol that was a bit smaller and slightly different; it was round rather than angular.

“And the third and fourth?” 

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Perhaps there are only two.”

“Very well, carry on.”

It took me perhaps five minutes to scrawl the Letragraph as I knew and understood it onto the sheet of paper. Finally, he took it from me and held it up to the light.

“Thank you, Lyra,” He said. “I will call one of your people to retrieve you.”

“I think I can walk,” I offered. “Tis not that far to the servant’s quarters.”

“I would just as rather you not,” Keniel said as he stepped over to a talky box behind us. “I would not be held responsible for Sheena’s beloved sister breaking the entirety of her face on the floor of the Octogon.”

“‘Beloved’?” I repeated the word back, skeptically. Kenial chuckled as he flipped a few switches on the talky and said a few words into the handset.

“Whether you choose to accept it or not,” Keniel said. “That woman loves you in a very sisterly way. Which, by all accounts, is a compliment of the highest order given her background and her discerning nature.”

“What of the symbols?” I asked him, indicating the sheet, now folded in his hand. He gave it a quick glance and shrugged.

“Nonsense, as far as I can see,” He told me. My heart sank; perhaps I had been expecting something more. 

“Sir,” I said. “Might you teach me to write? I feel it would be of great embarassment to my sister if I were truly unable to write.”

Keniel pursed his lips, considering. “Yes, Lyra, I suppose I can do that. Come to me at the fourteenth stroke each Tuesday.”

“I will try,” I promised him.

“Be it on you if you don’t,” He shrugged. 

“Sir,” I said. “Might you teach me to operate the machinery as well? I…”

“The machinery?” He frowned and looked over to the printing presses, still puttering away, producing stacks of paper covered in the strange common script. “Why?”

“All I know is service, sir,” I said hesitantly. “I wish…I would like to be more.” 

“And it seems good to your mind that you should be a scribe?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “A girl who cannot read, nor write?”

“I can learn, sir!” I promised, attempting to rise to my feet but experiencing a searing pain instead, which drove me back down into the wooden chair; casters clanking against the floor as I did.

“We will see,” He said. “I will make no promises, Lyra. And, even if I can teach you the basics, a true scribe must attend an accredited institution that instructs in Letragraphy, to start. 

“What if I could?” I perked up, the possibilities running rampant through my mind. Keniel sighed.

“Then,” He said. “I would be very surprised indeed. Your friend is here.”

I looked to my left to see Jen standing in the door, hands on her hips, white-blonde hair disheveled. I noted the stain marring the front of her uniform; clearly she had been in the middle of something.

“Jen!” I said happily, and then dialed it back a touch as she stomped toward me. Wordlessly, she grabbed the back of the chair I sat in and rolled it on its casters, toward the door and out into the hallway.

“You’ll bring that back then?” Kenial called after us as she pushed me down the hall.

“You left a right mess in the Octogan,” Jen scolded me as her pushing became faster and faster. The casters squeaked as we went. “You oughtn’t have returned to work if you weren’t ready. Who does it help?”

“Sorry,” I offered sheepishly. “I just-”

“Sheena’ll be fit to be tied when she finds out,” Jen turned a corner and the chair lurched, nearly knocking off as we passed a group of male servants who gave us a strange look. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that…I did not wish to be useless.”

“So instead you lied to her,” Jen said accusingly. “She won’t suffer a liar, there’ll be punishment, to be sure.”

I sighed and laid back as Jen finally wheeled me to the door of the temporary servant’s quarters and helped me to my bunk.

“You ought get better before the month is out,” She told me. “Another summit has been called, by the High Lady.”

“Another?” I looked at her in surprise. “What on Fadraiye could that mean?”

“Word tells that the Lord Regent will be in attendance, among others,” She nodded. “seems concern about Axock is growing. They’ve got soldiers, more than anyone elsewise, and now there’s the clockwork men.”

“Clockwork men?!” I gasped, trying to sit up, only top be stopped by Sheena placing a hand against my chest and pushing me back to the bed. 

“Graorhiel is nervous, seeing as they’re right snug on the border, supposedly there’s ‘training exercises’ near the dead zone, Lady Meighan is worried that her palace will go to waste once the clockwork men come through and have their way.”

“And a summit will stop that?” I asked, my eyes wide. 

“Would,” She nodded. “that a royal decree forces em’ to.”

“That’s quite enough, Jen,” Sheena’s voice cut through our conversation like a serrated knife as she stormed over to my bunk. “Lyra, you told me you were ready to return to work.”

“I thought I was,” I said apologetically.

“You will lay in that bunk for another week,” She ordered. “Elsewise, if I catch you up and walking, I’ll tether you to the bunk in my office, are my words clear to you?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling defeated.

“Yes?”

“Yes Elder Sister,” I sighed, getting more than a little tired of being forced to use the honorifics. Jen giggled quietly, only to stop when she recieved a sharp glance from Sheena.

“Jenisa, you are removed from your work assignment,” Sheena snapped.

“First Girl?” Jen frowned and shook her head. “But I-”

“You will remain here, at her bedside. You will ensure she does not leave this bunk. Furthermore, you will read to her!”

“What? Read to her? Stories, First Girl?”

Sheena walked to my locker and pulled open the door. She pulled out the blue volume that she had handed to me earlier, in the hospital wing. 

“You will read this to her,” Sheena said, almost triumphantly. “Teach her of Klocby familial traditions, especially the punishments for untruths! Count yourself lucky, Lyra, that you are bound to that bed. I would punish you severely otherwise.”

“I’m sorry, thank you, Elder Sister,” I sighed. 

“Read the book,” Sheena pointed to it aggressively just as she turned and stormed out of the servant’s quarters.

“I suppose we ought do this,” Jen sighed as she opened the book. “We’ll start at the beginning…”

At first it was believed that the Mah'Kur were simply an advanced civilization that had been overlooked, but as time went on, there were a few who believed evidence pointed toward an otherworldly origin. A small fringe group, however, indicated that they could be visitors from another reality. This theory, however, never held water as it is easy to convince people of life on other planets but not other realities.

-On the Mah'Kur Page 181 Paragraph 18

“So, what have we learned?” Jen asked me.

“That I don’t heal very quickly?” I offered with a subdued smiled as I wheeled alongside her. She gave my wheelchair a half hearted kick and I giggled in response. She shook her head and looked out across the courtyard. I followed her gaze to a group of wooden picnic tables situated beneath a small tree, shading a pair of picnickers. A man and a woman, both of whom looked to be nobility. Around us, on the walkway, people passed by, seemingly uninterested in us as we chugged along. I was glad to be outside in the open air, rather than stuck in the bunk as I had been for the past three days. Sheena had finally given Jen leave to return to her duties so long as I promised to use the wheelchair to get around. Jen hefted the book in her hand, and then flipped the page, reading a passage aloud to herself before stepping off the sidewalk and taking a seat on a concreted bench. I wheeled over and sat in front of her, feeling awkward as I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had traded my servant gray for a simple black dress with a floral skirt, devoid of a slip or petticoat so as to fit better in the chair.

“It’s…a lot,” I said to Jen. “She doesn’t own me, but this book says I must act like she does. I have so few choices; I don’t understand, Jen.”

“This the way Klocby works,” She told me, looking up from the book. “Tis also the way nearly every other civilized nation works.”

“And if I were a boy, with an older brother, would it work in this way as well?”

“No,” She said. “But know that we women hold ourselves to a far higher standard.”

“Such a high standard that we must be enslaved by our older sisters?”

Jen smirked and shook her head. Birds chirped overhead as she studied me, trying to think of the best way to approach the subject.

“You mustn’t think of it as that,” Jen flipped another page and then leaned forward, biting her lip and then fluttering her eyelashes. “At the Summit, do you understand what the High Lady intended to do with you?”

“I took it to mean she planned to expose me in front of my father,” I responded, nodding thoughtfully even as I tried desperately to remember anything of my father, other than the brief glance I’d gotten of him at the summit. It was getting harder.

“Aye, that she did,” Jen confirmed. “and how do you suppose that would have left you?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted nervously; I didn’t want to admit the truth of the matter.

“Supposing he hadn’t demanded your return-”

“Could he have done that, in any case, Jen?” I asked curiously, shaking my head. “Was I not serving a sentence?”

“Aye, Lyra,” She assured me. “You’re here at his will because he hates you; the Lady would surely not have resisted his taking of you. How would he have done in the matter?”

“I…” suddenly I was at a loss for words, I didn’t want to say it.

“Aye, the man might’ve had you killed, or tortured at the very least. All a ploy from the High Lady to discredit him in front of the other nobility. She mayhap have turned it into a big show, perhaps sayin’ all manner o’ nice things about you, and sayin’ that your father had shown his evil nature. ‘Twould a’ been downright nasty business, y’see?”

I nodded.

“Let me ask ye then, why did Sheena save you? Why’d she pull you out of line and force the lady to spare you?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly; the truth of the situation was beginning to sink in.

“I can see it in your face now,” She smiled and nodded. “She’d known you for what, perhaps three weeks? A bit more? So then, she saw you out there, flittering in the wind, ready to blow away, and she made a decision there, in that moment, to save you. She gave you the Rossi name, even though she knew well it could get her disinherited. All she had to do was sit back and stay quiet, she coulda just forgot about you, whether your father took you, or you simple stayed here and wallowed in your shame. She had nothing to gain, why do you suppose she stepped in and saved you?”

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. If there had been any underlying humor about the situation it had vacated as Jen closed the book and gave me an understanding smile. She reached over and laid a soft hand atop mine; I shuddered a bit at the contact.

“If she saw somethin’ in you worth saving, Lyra, don’t you think you ought to at least try to live up to her expectations? She has no desire to control you, Lyra, she wants you to turn up to be the best person you can be. Lyra, don’t be lookin’ at it as a burden, or as you’re being controlled. Look at your older sister as someone who loves you, and be proud that you’re important enough for her to spend her time on. She does care, even if she don’t act like it sometimes.”

There wasn’t much more to say, and truth be told I was feeling raw from the interaction. Jen patted my leg and set the book in my lap.

“I best be off,” She said. “Mind you get back to your bunk without me?”

“I will,” I promised. She gave me a quick smile and trotted off toward her duties, leaving me to think long and hard about what had been said. I wanted to be proud that she’d chosen me. Yes, I could do that. Could I really let her control me? Did she truly have my best interest at heart? I didn’t know that for sure. I wanted, no needed to believe it, because without her, I was all alone here. Even Jen didn’t come close to the types of interactions Sheena and I had. I needed her.

I kept that in mind as I gripped the metal wheels of the chair and pushed myself along the walk. It annoyed me just how much this stupid thing restricted me; I was in disbelief at how much of my daily life I’d spend on stairs, going off the beaten path, and of course, running. I was a more active person that I’d realized and this chair was turning everyday life in to a slog. I wanted to try getting up, maybe at least try putting weight on the ankle but if Sheena found out, and she would, she would probably start off by murdering me and then the real pain would come. Instead, I pushed the chair toward the scribery. The trip through the hallways was uneventful apart from a growing pain in my wrists and increasing fatigue as I tried to acclimate myself to using those muscle groups. I had to stop a few times, breathing heavily in my chair as my body collapsed under the strain of trying to move the chair. Finally, though, I made it to the scribery.

“You’re late,” Keniel said as I managed to cross the threshold.

“Wheelchair,” I said breathlessly.

“I’m a busy man,” Keniel said, barely looking up from his desk. “If your personal life takes precedent then-”

“Of course it does” I snapped. “I’ve been here twice, and I have to keep that fact hidden, how should you like me to handle it?”

I wheeled my chair up to a desk that had been set aside for me. Keniel rolled his eyes and dropped a stack of parchment in front of me.

“Write what you remember of the Letragraph,” He instructed. “And then we will see where we go from there.”

It took a few moments, but I managed to scrawl a good portion of the forty symbols in all four types. As I finished, he took the paper and inspected it.

“Here,” He pointed to the symbol for Oi’od. “You failed to put the emphasis line here.”

“This is the second form,” I argued. “Only the third and fourth need emphasis.

“Think of how it is spoken,” He told me. “The emphasis line is implied in speech as well as in writing, even if it does not have one by default, it should still have one in practice.”

“So you are saying it shouldn’t have one?”

“I am saying that you should embrace colloquialism if you wish to be an effective writer,” He snapped and set the paper back down. “Again.”

I wrote the Letragraph again, and one more time after that before Keniel taught me to write out a few basic words. He explained quickly how they were combined in sentence form, and then, finally, after I felt my hand was going to fall off, he called the lesson to a close.

“You do learn fast,” He admitted. “But you really must learn to follow instructions. I cannot teach you if you are arguing with me at every turn. Particularly in a subject you know nothing about.”

I found myself wheeling down the hallway once again, this time, finally just giving up and slumping forward in the chair, sweating and out of breath.

“I can’t do it,” I said. “I just can’t.”

I need to find somewhere to be; the servant’s quarters perhaps, even though I couldn’t stomach the thought of spending another moment in that bunk. Still, my arms ached, my dress was drenched with sweat, and my ankle throbbed. Everything hurt, all at once, and there was little I could do about it. I just didn’t want to be anywhere, including here.

“Excuse me,” A new voice said from beside me. I wearily looked up to see a brunette woman with curly hair and an angular face stepping around my wheelchair. She was perhaps in her mid-thirties and wore a simple white-button down blouse along with a long brown skirt held up by a black belt. Under her arm she held a leather binder pressed close to her body. “Is your name Lyra perchance?”

“You’re very good,” I nodded. She smiled.

“ Your sister said you had a good sense of humor,” She told me. “and you look as though you could use some help.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked, and she simply smiled, stepping around and taking control of my wheelchair.

“My name,” She said. “Is Gabrielle. And you, of course, are Lyra.”

“We established that,” I said drowsily as she pushed the chair through the hall. “Are you kidnapping me, then?”

“In a manner of speaking,” She laughed.

“My sister won’t be able to pay a ransom,” I told her. “her family cut her off.”

“Ah yes, I heard about that,” She said. “They tried to keep it all hush hush, but word gets around. I hear they keep hoping she’ll come around.”

“I’m sure she will,” I said hopelessly. I leaned back in the chair, unsure of who Gabrielle was or where she was taking me, but then I asked myself if it mattered. Then again, what if she was an agent of my father’s and she was taking me to my death? Well, at least I wouldn’t have to scrub any more floors. Instead of taking me to a merciful death, however, she took me to the educational wing of the campus, which was normally far out of my range.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be here,” I said apprehensively, craning and twisting my neck as we passed a variety of classrooms. The educational wing was part of the capital’s most prestigious university. I had come to understand that there were multiple schools and universities throughout Klocby proper, but the Highton University was considered to be the best. As such, it was integrated into the campus grounds, though it was miles away from the palace. Truthfully, I’d never been over here and now I was in awe of the classrooms and auditoriums that we passed. Throughout the halls, younger men and women, perhaps Sheena’s age bustled through the halls socializing with one another, bundles of colorful books in their arms. What would it be like to be one of them, I wondered? To be receiving a good eduction, and well on their way to an actual career? I could ask Sheena, probably; up until a few weeks ago she was probably considering attending university. What would she do now that I had ruined her future?

We passed into an atrium that simply took my breath away; it was an elongated glass dome supported by steel beams that must have extended for five stories. All around us, lush plant life grew from low lying brick planters that curved into a path, allowing us to navigate a cobblestone walkway with greenery on either side of us. The sound of running water, filled my ears as I noticed a bubbling stream culminating in a brief waterfall at the front of the path I stared at the water in absolute wonder and Gabrielle paused so I could take in the scenery. Trees grew on either side of us, accompanied by a swathe of colorful flowers, around which, wooden benches had been placed. A red-headed girl sat on one of them, a book in her hand as she stared at it, lost in thought. Two men walked past us, deep in philosophical debate as I sat there lost in the wonder of it all.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Gabrielle said. I smiled in response as she continued pushing my chair down the path. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” I admitted. “I haven’t had anything today.”

It was true; I’d climbed out of bed into my chair, and I’d declined to visit the kitchens. Truthfully, I just hadn’t felt very hungry.

“We must remedy that, then,” Gabrielle said.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “This has been fun but my sister will be expecting me to-”

“Sheena will be arriving to retrieve you at the end of the day,” She said with some assurance in her voice. “She sent me to find you, after all.”

“To keep me out of trouble?” I said in a half hearted joking manner.

“In a manner of speaking,” She confirmed. She pushed my chair out of the garden and we came across an open area filled with round wooden tables. There were all manner of people seated, eating from coral colored plates, reading, talking, and contemplating. She wheeled my chair to one of the tables and as she sat down, a girl in servant gray dashed over.

“How may I serve you, my lady?” The girl asked. I tensed up; was she a lady?

“Girl, I am no lady,” Gabrielle laughed. “Now then, do bring my friend a bowl of rukon soup, heavy on the salt, please. I will have the house salad, if you don’t mind.”

“Water, lad…Miss?”

“That will do fine, girl,” Gabriele said. I shrank back in my chair, well aware that I while I wasn’t dressed in servant gray at the moment, I was just like her and had no business receiving service. My cheeks flushed as Gabrielle turned her attention to me.

“Down to business, while we wait,” She smiled. “At the behest of the High Lady, Sheena commissioned me to provide my services, I assume you recognize me?”

“I…don’t,” I said, embarrassed. “I apologize.”

“Well, that is quite refreshing!” She laughed. “Normally I am absolutely swamped with autograph seekers!”

“Are you like…a famous person then?” I frowned, suddenly even more embarrassed that I didn’t recognize her.

“That is what they say,” She admitted, chuckling a little. “My name is Gabrielle Marsh, and I am a singer.”

“A singer?” I said redundantly as the serving girl returned and placed the food down in front of us. I hesitated to touch the food.

“You should eat,” She waved to the bowl. “You will need your strength, after all.”

“For what?”

“For what I will be teaching you today, of course, and every day after that.”

“You….are going to teach me to sing?” I frowned. “I don’t think I would be much good at that.”

“Now Lyra,” Gabrielle laughed as she took a bite of her salad. “You musn’t debase yourself in this matter, or any other manner. You could be good at a great any things, but singing isn’t our aim today. The girls seem to have done well with your cosmetics, your face looks…well to be honest, I would have had trouble picking you out today if it hadn’t been for the wheelchair and of course the voice, which is what we shall be working on!”

“My voice?” I looked at her, confused at first, but then it dawned on me completely. In the beginning my voice had been a source of discomfort to me, after all, I sounded like a man, and no matter how much face paint I wore, my voice would always give it way. Over time, however, when no one reacted my voice, I’d forgotten about it. Now it had been brought up again and my self-induced delusion was coming down. “Oh no…”

“Now now,” she folded her hands on the table and gave me a sympathetic look. “‘tis nothing that can’t be fixed! Finish your soup and we’ll get started!”

So I did. We talked throughout the meal, and eventually she wheeled me away from the table and to a lift that took us to the third floor of the university. We sat in a classroom that was highly organized with books stacked neatly on shelves throughout, and music scales meticulously scrawled on the chalkboard. She talked at length about the difference between vocal pitch and vocal weight, and then had me perform a few simple exercise to raise my pitch over time. She told me I was doing well, but I felt like I was just making awkward screeching noises. Finally, Sheena came by.

“How is my little sister doing?” She asked Gabrielle who gave her a delighted smile.

“She is doing quite well,” Gabrielle confirmed. “Though we ought work on her self confidence.”

“That, has always been a problem,” Sheena folded her arms and looked at me almost expectantly. I blushed and sank back in my chair; she rubbed my shoulder and laughed. “I do hope you enjoyed it Lyra, because you will be back tomorrow, and each day after that.”

“But what about the Summit?” I asked Sheena. “I must prepare for that.”

“First of all, Lyra,” Sheena told me. “The summit has been pushed back two months to accommodate the Lord Regent’s schedule. Second, has Jen taught you nothing?”

“I apologize, Elder Sister, I didn’t mean to disappoint you,” I said, feeling shocked that as the words came from my mouth, I actually meant them. Sheena was caught slightly off guard as well, even though she didn’t say anything. Instead, she furrowed her brow at me and almost imperceptible cocked her head as if trying to determine whether or not I was speaking with sarcasm. Finally she turned to Gabrielle and thanked her for working with me.

We made it back to the servant’s dining hall just in time to partake of the evening meal. While I originally sat at one of the tables with Jen or the other girls, Sheena now insisted that I sit at the smaller table with she, Kayla, and Elric, and it made me feel like I was on display.

“You should sleep tonight,” Sheena told me, as if I had a choice. I poked at a boiled rukon egg, trying to work up more of an appetite as I waited for her to come with a follow-up sentence. “You have an appointment in the morning and you will attend.”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I said quietly. She stared at me as I cut the egg in silence and forced a piece into my mouth.

Kayla bit her lip and looked down; Elric excused himself from the table, citing a need to be anywhere but there.

“What are you doing, Lyra?” She placed her hand on mine, forcing me to drop the fork. “Are you not going to ask me about the appointment? What it pertains to?”

I shrugged.

“Lyra.” She said, her single word heavy with implication.

“You want me to go there,” I said. “So I’ll go.”

“Following all the rules isn’t like you,” She told me, her tone laced with genuine concern. “Is this a form of malicious compliance?”

“What do you mean?” I frowned.

“She means, are you following the rules to the letter just to upset her?” Kayla said helpfully.

“That,” Sheena nodded to her. “If you are, then knock it off.”

“I’m not,” I said, and I meant it, completely. I had no wish to subvert her or to disobey. She was my older sister, and the rules were there for a reason.

She shot a glance to Kayla, who stood and walked away from the table, leaving her tray behind. She turned to look at me, her eyes meeting mine, a soft but curious expression on her face.

“You’re not Micah Lavoric,” She said plainly. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement; there was no doubt in her mind. “Who are you?”

“I’m Lyra,” I told her.

“Yes, I suppose you are,” She sat back, resigned. “And who is Lyra?”

“I…I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just…I know I’m not him. I never was, I don’t think. I need you. Please help me.”

“I will.”

“We’ll be rid of that chair,” Sheena said as I limped out of the shower. “You seemed to have an awful time with it.”

“It was…hard…to push,” I sighed. “I’m kind of weak I guess.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” She smiled and patted me on the head. “your mind is where the worth is to be found.”

I limped across the floor and sat down on one of the benches, letting a small moan of relief escape my lips as the pressure was alleviated from my ankle. Off in the distance, I heard the broken showerhead sputter again.

“Will they ever fix that?” I looked to Sheena who stood leaning against the door to the locker room.

“They’re trying, I think,” Sheena shrugged. “I talked to Parsifal, he said it’s the convection mechanism.”

“Everything is steam powered,” I rolled my eyes. “Surely they can figure that out.”

“In the past, perhaps,” She said. “but now there is a new power source. They’ve been working on it these past thirty years or so. They call it ‘Arctesonite’. I just call it ‘Arc’. Whatever that means. Parsifal hates it. It convectifies the water faster, but it has these…surges, can’t really control them.”

“So it makes the shower head sputter? Just that one?”

“All of them, on occasion. If you stand in here long enough and watch,” Sheena shrugged. “Just that you always see that one. Happens with the lights too. Works most days, but if you pay really close attention, you’ll see a light dim, here or there. Most people aren’t paying close enough attention but servants see everything.”

“Apparently not me.”

“Apparently not.”

As I pulled my work dress from the foot locker, Sheena stopped me and pulled out a dull blue one instead. She helped me into it and then gestured to an empty chair she’d set up near the bed. I dutifully climbed over and sat down, wincing slightly as I momentarily put weight on my ankle. She walked behind the chair and and gently ran a brush through my hair; I closed my eyes and relaxed.

“This is getting long,” She observed. “I rather like it.”

She was right; my hair had reached below my shoulders and I had a vague memory of my ‘father’ making crude comments about it when I’d started growing it out in Axock. Fortunately I was unable to recall any specifics. It was scary, feeling my memories of Micah Lavoric fade, but exciting that I was becoming more of Lyra. Many of my inhibitions were fading along with the memories; things that I’d been hesitant to do because of them being overtly feminine now came naturally to me. I closed my eyes and let Sheena continue to run the brush through my hair; she held her hand to the side of my head, tilting it ever so slightly, and then finishing up as she hummed to herself.

“The physician said you should be able to walk on it in a few days,” She said idly as she stepped around the chair and began to apply the cosmetics. “I want to get you away from toilets. Mayhap convince Marcella to let you in the kitchen.”

“I already work kitchen,” I said, not realizing what she meant.

“Aye well, mayhap you’ll cook; I don’t want to see my sister scrubbing lavatories.”

“Would that not be nepotism?”

“In the extreme,” She laughed. “But I can make a good case for it, should anyone ask. Come, stand up, we can’t be late.”

“Do you think I could work again soon?” I asked her, probably a bit too eagerly.

“Why is it that you are so anxious to work?” She laughed. “I appreciate this new side of you but do take a rest when it is offered!”

“I don’t like sitting around,” I sighed. “I just…I want to do something.”

“You are doing something now, are you not?” She smiled, indicating the corridor we currently walked down. We were moving in the direction of the Octagon and I was moving painfully slow.

“I mean something import- you know what I mean, Elder Sister,” She eyed me with her head half-turned. I’d been trying to work on my voice and while she said nothing about it, I was certain that I sounded like a diseased mouse.

“How old are you, Lyra?” She asked me, her voice delivered with an upward inflection that betrayed her amusement.

“Seventeen, Elder S-”

“You need not say it every time,” She interrupted me. “I appreciate you making such a wonderful effort but context must be understood. Now in any case, you are seventeen years old, several years below the age of majority, which means you have ample time left to do many things, and that includes scrubbing latrines.”

Though I felt useless, I felt joy at the way we were interacting. There was something about it that made my heart happy, and I couldn’t help but smile a little. She noticed and chuckled.

“May I ask a personal question, Elder Sist-,” I cut of honorific when she glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want you to be an automaton, little sister,” She chided. “I want you to respect me but you are your own person. Yes, please, ask your question.”

“What of your family?”

“What of them, Lyra?”

“I was just wondering….what of your inheritance?”

“Lyra,” She said in a lecturing tone. “Do you believe that I will suddenly choose to bow to their whims and simply abandon you?

“No,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean-”

“Honesty, Lyra, we talked about honesty.”

“Yes, I do fear that,” I admitted. “I feel like…like I need you but I also know that it would suck to lose your inheritance.”

“Lyra, I can do just fine without an inheritance,” She insisted. “Don’t worry about me leaving you, you are safe.”

“Thank you, Eld-”

“No.”

We passed through a glass walkway at ground level, and my eyes went wide when I realized we were adjacent to the Vice. The buildings just outside the walk way were the color of copper save for their blue shingled roofs, and most of them I had only seen from the walkway above. I was prepared to ask Sheena where we were going when it occurred to me that we were back in the medical wing - just in a different part.

Walking with the crutches was exhausting and my armpit began to grow sore, so I neglected to ask Sheena any more questions and concentrated on my forward momentum instead.

“You worry unnecessarily,” Sheena said; she could sense my concern growing. “My father has no wish to lose a daughter, he will change his mind.”

“And if he doesn’t?” I asked quickly; avoiding talking as much as possible.

“My father is many things, Lyra, but a man of conviction, he is not. He will come to regret his actions, and then he will convince himself that he was wrong with help or not. And, if he does not, then there are a great many people in Klocby who have managed to get by without a sizeable inheritance.”

We stepped into a lobby with copper-paneled walls and brown tile floor polished to a sheen. There were several chairs set up in a semi-circle around what appeared to be a low table covered in paper periodicals, but we ignore those and stepped over to a lift. Sheena gripped the brass lever jutting from the wall and pulled it downward; inside the shaft I could hear the grinding of gears and the rumbling of the lift-car making its way down the shaft. Finally, a bell sounded and the trellis door slid aside with several clanks as the sections closed in on themselves. Sheena waved me in and as we stepped inside, she pressed a button on the brass panel, indicating the sixth floor.

“Are you nervous?” She asked me.

“A bit,” I admitted.

“But you still have no idea where we are going.”

“No,” I admitted.

“Had you asked, I would have told you,” She lectured. “There are things you have a right to know.”

I shrugged. She shook her head.

“We will work on this. Lyra I apologize if I had a negative impact on you, but once things are settled, we will discuss what these familial relations mean to you. I don’t want you to fear; know that I will not abandon you, I just want some idea of what you are thinking. Do you understand?”

“I do,” I assured her. The lift came to a halt, and we made our way down a brief hallway. We passed through a door, and suddenly we were standing in a reception area where a woman in servant gray waved us through a door. Clearly we were expected.

“Well hello!” A man with graying hair and gold horn-rimmed glasses greeted us. “Sheena and Lyra, I presume?”

“You presume correctly,” Sheena told him. The man stepped around, behind a mahogany desk and gestured for the two of us to take a seat. The room was a well equipped office complete with towering bookcases that reached the ceiling, a diagram of the human anatomy affixed to what would have been a blank wall, a tall grandfather clock in one corner, ticking down the seconds.

“The request made of this office, by the High Lady, was unusual, and certainly unorthodox, but also within the realm of possibility. As a servant in the house of Jenwise, Lyra has undergone a full medical screening and from the records we have been able to determine important aspects of her physiology. This can be done. The thought, is for perhaps two days from now?”

“As soon as possible,” Sheena nodded. “Right, Lyra?”

“Uh…” My eyes darted around the room, trying to get at least a hint of what was going on. Sheena could contain herself no longer and burst into laughter.

“I gave you every opportunity to ask!” She said between laughs. “Lyra…I…oh Goddess this is ridiculous.”

“You wanted me to obey the familial traditions!” I argued. “And now that I am-”

“Doctor, please?” Sheena waved to a very confused Caius who shook his head and then adjusted his glasses with one finger.

“Lyra,” He said in a confused tone. “We…the High Lady asked that you be made…more…feminine, so that you would be more comfortable. In two days time, we plan to make that happen, do you understand?”

I frowned. “I already look like a girl, Sheena and Jen, they help me paint my face. Wait, Sheena, do I not look right? We did it right this morning, didn’t we?”

Sheena blinked and then turned to me slowly, her mouth slightly parted as she tried to find the words to describe the situation - or maybe she was confused by my apparent ignorance.

“Lyra,” She said. “when the procedure is done, you will not need cosmetics. You will look as any other girl. Do you understand?”

“What?” I looked from her, then back to Caius who looked to me expectantly. “I don’t…what do you mean?”

“Lyra,” Sheena reached across and squeezed my hand. “I mean that you can awaken every morning and look exactly as you are. You can look in a mirror without paint, and you can truly see yourself. You can be the girl you know you are on the inside. Would that not be wonderful?”

I shook my head again and frowned, trying to assemble the adequate words.

“This…this is possible?”

“Yes Lyra!” Sheena smiled broadly. “You are not him, and you should not look like him. Do you understand?”

I nodded profusely, completely at a loss for words as I looked into her eyes. Was this really possible? Could this happen? Could they turn me into the girl that I truly believed I was? It seemed impossible and yet…

We stayed for another hour, discussing specifics, such as what sort of face I would want, things I wanted done with the rest of my body. Caius explained that the surgery was far safer than it had been in the past as they now had a sculpting procedure that could be aided by recycled Mah’kur crystals, which meant that it could all be done in less than an hour, and the recovery time would be just a few days. It was amazing news and I was boiling with excitement by the time Sheena and I stepped back into the hallway.

“Lyra,” She said to me as we walked away. “I must return to my work. In two days time you will undergo the procedure and you will become as you are. Today I wish for you to relax and contemplate. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I nodded rapidly in agreement. She smiled and touched my cheek.

“I am glad, that you are not him, Lyra,” She smiled and left me. I stood there for a moment, contemplating, and then decided to pay a visit to Keniel. It was difficult to make my way across the campus but I found him in his office, hunched over a stack of papers as usual. He gave me only a quick glance as I passed through the doors, hobbling on my crutches.

“You see that machine over there?” He pointed at one of the six presses off in the corner, beneath a painted-over casement window. “It’s not running. While it’s down, go open that front panel and pull out the bias roller.”

“The bias roller?” I asked him. “What is that?”

“The one near the top, it’ll be coated in green.”

I tossed my crutches aside, getting another glance from Keniel who then simply returned to his work as I hobbled over toward the machine. I tested my leg, putting some weight on it and found that is was bearable if I walked slowly. Once I reached the machine, I gripped the handle on the front and opened a compartment. Inside, I found the roller in question; it was coated in green and after some considerable jostling, I managed to free it from the machine.

“Aye, that’s all used up,” Keniel said from across the room. “Toss it and take another from the cabinet.”

“I’m having a procedure done, the day after tomorrow,” I told Keniel whose eyes barely left the paper. “They say they can make me look like a girl.”

“You already do, to my eyes,” He muttered. I grabbed the new roller and placed it inside the machine.

“But really, really, like a girl,” I said. “I will no longer need to paint my face.”

“Pull the brass lever, there on the side,” Keniel pointed. I closed my eyes, feeling deflated, but then reached down to pull the lever. The machine sputtered to life and began to shoot paper out onto the stack. “Now, recite the Letragraph for me.”

And so I did, all forty symbols, and then he asked me to do it again. Once we were finished sputtering off the names of symbols, he handed me a sheet of paper and asked me to use the symbols, or ‘letras’ to form some simple words.

“You see that?” He said, pointing to the paper once I was done. “You use these supporting words to form a sentence-”

“I understand how sentences work, Keniel,” I said, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I can write…it just comes out strange.”

“Why don’t you show me that again?” He said, suddenly, as if he’d remembered something. I shrugged and took a piece of paper from the stack next to me. Taking the quill, I wrote out: ‘the lazy dog jumps over the quick brown fox’. Or at least I thought I did; it came out as more jumbled letters, except I could read them. I found it difficult to understand, I was thinking in the common tongue but my writing was….well, whatever this was.

“What did you write?” He asked me. I told him. “What’s a fox?”

“I…I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think it’s…I….”

I tried to think of what it was, and it was right there, right on the precipice of my own memory but it just…wasn’t coming.

“Calm yourself girl, it isn’t all that important,” Keniel slid the paper away from me and wrote a set of symbols beneath it. “There, I wrote it in the common script, you see?”

He asked me to write a few more things, and then I was on my way again, wandering the halls with very little to do. I found myself sitting on a bench in the main concourse, watching the people wander by and as I did, I wondered a bit as to what it might look like outside the palace campus, in Klocby proper. While the area was widely referred to as Klocby palace, the proper name for the surrounding city was Auglire. Confusing, somewhat, but in essence, the country was known as Klocby, the capital city was Auglire. Auglire was a sprawling city with a central campus that housed the palace and the supporting facilities - which was where my world ended. Technically, I was to keep to the buildings that I lived and worked in, the only exception being the occasional trip to one of the many surrounding courtyards. But what did I know of Auglire itself? I had seen some of it the very day that I had come here. It was indeed a sprawling city with dozens, or perhaps hundreds of districts all bustling with people of different colors and creeds. Market stalls sold fresh fruits and entertainers shouted at the top of their lungs to draw the attention of adults and children alike as they walked and scampered down uneven cobblestone streets. These were the things I remembered - that I had briefly witnessed in a gasp of vision as the motorcar had brought me to Klocby Palace. Auglire had been brimming with life and at the time I could concentrate only on the task ahead of me, the request that I was to make of the High Lady. The anticipation had burned a hole through my chest, my heart had pounded as the drums of war while I prepared for the ultimate rejection and embarrassment - at least one of those had never come. But now, here I was, wondering just what I was missing.

“Lyra!” Elric’s voice tore me from my stupor, prompting me to look upward. Sunlight streamed through the concourse window, lighting his hair into a million different hues of red. He smiled, I returned the smile. “What are you doing out here, all alone?”

“I am…thinking,” I said, my voice sounding apologetic. “I just…in a few days I-”

“The procedure, yes!” He said in a happy tone. “Sheena spoke to me of it, you must be ecstatic!”

“Nervous,” I said quietly. “What if something goes wrong?”

“Nonsense!” He laughed. “Caius, the physician? He is a brilliant man, he will take care of you!”

“I’m…glad you’re so confident,” My voice was shaky. Elric extended a hand to me.

“Come,” He said. “I wish for your help with something. A matter in the stables.”

“The stables?” I took his hand, allowing him to pull me off the bench. “I don’t think I can work in the stables.”

“Did you know, Lyra,” He said to me as we made our way down the concourse. “that in Eplos, Lord Featherstone as all but abolished these archaic gender roles? It would be a wondrous place, for one such as you.”

“Oh, Elric,” I laughed. “I don’t think I’m to travel, besides, Sheena enjoys it here, I think.”

“Seems so,” He smiled. It seemed to me as if he wanted to say something more, but he stayed silent as we walked the halls. We took a staircase down to a ground floor landing which saw us leaving the building and crossing a small courtyard along the servant’s path and finally, we cane to a long building set apart from the rest of the structure. It was situated in a field of green grass seemingly growing out of control when compared to the lawns on the rest of the campus. I strode alongside Elric cautiously, my anticipation rising at the notion of being somewhere that I shouldn’t be. Partway through I realized that I wasn’t really using the crutches all that much and stowed them under my arm. “Feeling better then?”

“It still hurts a little,” I told him. “I guess I’ll keep my temper under control from now on.”

“You’ve nothing to feel bad for,” Elric assured me. “I understand what it is to have your entire identity called into question. Ah, here we are.”

Elric slid open the huge door; it revealed the interior of a building that was far bigger than I hand anticipated. I saw a row of stalls on either side preceded by a pristine white concrete walkway that ran up the center. Within, there were dozens of servants, grooms, busying themselves with all manner of tasks. One man pushed a wheelbarrow filled to the brim with feed while another unloaded a bundle of straw into an open stall. Still others walked around engaged in conversation, all of them dressed, like Elric, in white button down shirts with brown slacks rather than the servant black I’d seen most of the male house staff wearing.

“This is our main stable,” Elric explained to me; I walked alongside him quickly, doing my best to keep up. “The motorcar may be popular, but the nobles, they do love their horses and I cannot disagree with them. There is nothing quite like the feel of the wind bursting through your hair on the back of a living beast. There is something about it that gives you a surge of life. Come, I will show you.”

“Show me?” I asked nervously as we walked the length of the stable, past open stalls and finally toward a man who was busy brushing a tall brown horse in the center of the walk.

“Indeed I will,” He smiled. “Jerome, fetch a saddle for this horse.”

The groomsman nodded and stepped away for a moment, returning with a leather saddle. I gulped.

“Elric,” I whispered. “I can’t ride!”

“You cannot?” He frowned and then chuckled. “Surely you rode in Axock!”

“I…” I thought hard, trying to recall a visual memory of riding. Of course Micah Lavoric had ridden but…what did it feel like? What were the smells? What would I hear? A wave of terror washed over me as Elric ordered one of his grooms to help me up onto the horse. “I can’t do this!”

“Of course you can!” He laughed as he led another horse, a black stallion alongside me. He saddled it and climbed on. “Even if you don’t know how, old Muggie will do all the work for you.”

“Old…Muggie?” I asked, confused.

“The horse, of course,” He grinned at the rhyme that had just rolled off of his tongue. He reached over, taking the reigns of the beast, and at the same time, gave a click of his tongue and gently brought his heels in, onto the sides of his own. Both horses immediately began to move, my stomach lurched as I realized we were headed out of the stables. “See now? You tell it to move, you give old Muggie a good kick, and when you want her to stop, you just pull back on the reigns and give her a ‘woah!’, you see?”

“I…see…” I said shakily. “Why are we doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t we do this?” Elric laughed as we cleared the stable and emerged onto an open field surrounded by a black fence far off in the distance. “You are in desperate need of some relaxation, Lyra, even your sister seems to think so.”

“So Sheena put you up to this?” I kept a death grip on the little bump on the front of the saddle; I felt as if I were going to slide off, onto the grass at any moment. Elric stared straight ahead, apparently oblivious to my current plight.

“Sheena put me up to nothing,” He informed me. “She is worried about you, it is all over her face.”

“And this is supposed to calm her down?! I’m going to die!” I scrambled, leaning forward even as the horse continued at a slow pace; Elric laughed as I hugged the beast’s neck, clamping my legs around its body.

“Lyra, you are not going to die, that horse will not even buck. Now sit up and ride with some dignity, enjoy the scenery!”

Slowly, carefully, with my teeth gritted I pulled away from the horse’s neck and did my best to sit up in the saddle. I felt as if I were on a raft in the midst of the ocean, lost and alone, terrified, even though Elric was right there beside me.

“What are you worried about, Lyra?” He asked me very pointedly as we passed under a tree, the expanse of field in front of us filled with a dozen grazing horses.

“I um…” I managed to pull myself upright, still barely holding on, or at least I thought. “Why…why do you want to know?” It was a fair question, how many times had he even spoken to me? Why had he abducted me, stuck me on the back of a horse, and started asking me personal questions?

“Because, Dear Lyra,” His tone suggested a smile, but his face was stoic. “Sheena is a very good friend of mine, and if she is worried, then I am worried, so let us talk, and let us calm your mind, hm?”

“I’m…I’m worried that she’ll get tired of me,” I finally admitted it out loud. “What if her family convinces her to get rid of me? I don’t want to be alone. I don’t know how to explain it. I know I was kind of…rude about it at first but having her tell me I’m her sister, and having her want to take care of me? I like it and I don’t want it to end but I know it has to.”

“And why does it have to?” Elric directed us toward a stream, which we easily crossed. Though the field was vast, I could still see the tall buildings of Klocby on our right, and the foreboding city wall to our left.

“Her father…and…well…me. Look at me, Elric, I’m not worth losing her entire family over, am I?”

“Her father, is not a bad man,” Elric told me. “He is a man who will see reason. You know the Rossi name, yes?”

“No,” I admitted shamefully. “Not…before I came here. I just know it’s Sheena’s last name.”

“Ah,” He chuckled. “Did you know that he was not always wealthy?”

“I find that hard to believe,” I admitted, thinking of the manse we had visited so many weeks ago.

“It is true, Lyra, my friend,” He smiled broadly. “Have you heard of a town called Silverhall?”

“I have,” I nodded. “Southwest of Strading, yes?”

“Indeed,” He confirmed. “Martin Rossi got his start there, as a clockmaker. He was just fourteen years old, so it was, hm, thirty two years ago. Silverhall was a wasteland then, you see, his father had taken out a loan on the family home, and when debts came due, well, the money just was not there. It was the same for many, not just in Silverhall, but throughout the region. Dry spells killed crops, jobs were lost, people starved. Wasn’t all that much business for a clockmaker, but Martin Rossi, he knew the ins and outs. The gears, the hands, the crystals, it was all second nature to him. The gear is a part of him, and he is the gear, you see? Even as his father died and his mother took her own life, he toiled in his workshop and he made the best clocks Faidyre has ever seen. People came from near and far to buy his inventions and he brought the town of Silverhall back from the brink of death. If only his father could have seen it.”

“So…then he got rich and moved to Klocby?” I asked, wondering if that was the climax of the story.

“Nah,” Elric shook his head. “Wouldn’t you know it, the Minxwork Clock Company, over in Uphey, they took a special notice of Mr. Rossi, and they came, told him that if he didn’t close up shop, they’d close it up for him.”

“So then he moved?”

“He’s a stubborn man, Sheena says he lacks conviction, but his actions there in Silverhall, says different to my eyes and ears. No, he called the townsfolk together, told them that they’d come too far to just back up and go. See, it wasn’t just his clockworks that were in danger, Lyra, was the town. They’d crawled their way out o’ the depths of poverty, and they’d made a name for themselves. No one wants to fall back to the dirt after they’ve touched the sky. So they spent all night, with Mr. Rossi’s help, buildin’ contraptions and scheming. When the Minxwork thugs came at the next sun, they killed them, all o’ them, and they saved their town.”

“Well, that’s good then,” I smiled a little. “So he won!”

“The Minxwork Clock Company has a lot of people in its employ, and they’ve got grease in many palms, Lyra. It was no surprise that they came back in force, with airships and thugs a’plenty. Razed Silverhall to the ground. Martin Rossi fled town with the clothes on his back, and of course his sweetheart, Colleen. Sure he recovered his fortune, but runnin’ away from his home while it’s burnin’ to the ground? That’s something a man is not like to forget. You must understand that Mr. Rossi is a cautious man and he is not likely to give way to anything if he thinks that it could bring ruin to his family. You cannot blame him, but you can believe that when Sheena says she loves you, she is telling the truth.”

“She loves me?” I perked up a little in the saddle. “I’ve never heard her say that.”

“You’ve got to listen with more than your ears, dear Lyra,” Elric said. “Now, we ought head back before the day is out.”

I suddenly realized that I felt more relaxed and I was now sitting more naturally in the saddle. The ride had helped, maybe if I’d just calmed down in the first place it would have been better.

“Could we stay out a little longer?” I said hopefully. Elric smiled.

“Very well, a little longer.”

“Would this be a good time to talk about it?” I asked Sheena as I set up in the bed. She was already sitting at her desk; the room was dark save for the green lamp-glow from her desk that illuminated her face. I watched her look up from her papers, black hair glowing softly in the lamplight as she shot me a look that was nothing short of a silent lecture.

“You ought be sleeping,” She told me. “You’ve got another hour before you need to ready yourself.”

“I’m not tired,” I shrugged, and then I thought better of it and laid back down, pulling the covers up to my neck.

“Lyra,” She said, and I opened my eyes. “We can talk.”

I crawled out of the blankets and shifted my position so that I was facing the opposite end, my head resting on my hands as I looked up her with a grin plastered across my face. Sheena looked to me and then burst out laughing.

“What?” I asked.

“You,” She chortled. “You were so stiff before, and now you act like a little girl. It comes so naturally to you.”

“That’s bad?” I frowned, tensing a little. 

“Not a bit,” She rose from the desk, straightening a pile of papers, and then stepped over to the bed to sit beside me. She was dressed as I was, in a white shift, her black hair flowing down past the middle of her back in a thick braid. I shifted in the bed, onto my side so I could see her face more clearly. She rubbed my shoulder and I rested my head on her leg. “What do you want to talk about, dear Lyra?”

“When we were riding on the airship, you didn’t even want me to speak to Balthasar without your permission so I thought maybe that I wasn’t supposed to do anything unless you said so. But now you want me to have more freedom. I don’t understand.”

“In your life as Micah, you were exposed to some things, things a child should never be exposed to, Lyra. Here you have a chance to start over. You are just seventeen years old, it is not too late for you to be a child, and as your previous life seems to be fading, it is even more realistic a goal. I did not wish for you to obtain information from Balthasar that would compromise your newfound innocence. I need you to be Lyra and you need you to be Lyra. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” I nodded. “So all that stuff about the Stormveil and things, I should just forget about it.”

“In a manner of speaking, Lyra,” She told me. “There will come a day when your knowledge of the Stormveil could be necessary, but you must remember that as Micah, Balthasar was in there with you, he remembers much more than you and they have gleaned everything they need to know from him. Your work in that area is done.”

“Wait, he remembers?” I frowned. “but-”

“You see, Lyra,” Sheena cut me off with a wave of her hand. “This is where I will tell you what you can and cannot do. You will enjoy your time as a teenager, and as you grow, we will increase your knowledge and your world view. This will happen naturally, do you understand?”

“I do,” I really did. She smiled at me and stroked my hair; I closed my eyes and drank in the feeling of her soft fingers against my scalp.

“In two hours,” She said. “You will undergo the procedure, and when it is done, you will have a new start, a fresh start. Lyra there are…things that I don’t fully understand about you. Why you seem to be forgetting your life as Micah. I did ask Balthasar but…Lyra, important as I may seem to you, I am still just a servant, albeit a higher ranking one. There are things that I am not privy to know, and perhaps that is for the best. I did ask him if you were safe, and he told me that you were.”

“So what does that mean?” I asked her, shifting my position a little. 

“It means, Lyra,” She said. “That you will undergo this procedure, and soon, you will become her entirely. I have no idea how much of your memory you will retain, and I have no idea why you are losing it, but Balthasar tells us it is for the best.”

“But what’s going to be left of me? Sheena…I…I’m afraid,” I could feel myself shaking almost uncontrollably; she laid her arm over me and used her free hand to stroke my head.

“What will be left, is everything that you have become while you have been here, Lyra,” She said firmly. “You will be the kind, gracious, curious, and happy little girl that I have come to know. You will be the girl that I am honored to call sister and I will protect you. You are Lyra, and she is you, and nothing can take that from you now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I said, feeling a little better, but the apprehension wouldn’t fade. She slid out gently and rose from the bed; the mattress rose a little as she stood and stepped back, beaming down at me with a look of pride. 

“Get dressed, little sister,” She smiled widely. “Today is your day.”

All of my clothes were still sitting in the locker in the temporary servant’s quarters, but that didn’t seem to bother Sheena much. She opened her closet and pulled out a green flowing dress with a white bodice and flowing sleeves. She explained to me that she used it at important family functions, which was exactly what today was. She dressed me, helping me to lace the bodice, and then applied my cosmetics. Once again, she carefully brushed my hair and I allowed myself to relax, letting go of all my worries for a moment as she picked and prodded, styling it as she wanted. Finally, she looked at me and smiled.

“We go,” She extended an arm to me and we walked to the door of her office, out into the wood paneled corridor lined with green lamps. There were memories residing in this corridor, faint recollections of my confrontation with Sheena, nights spent talking and laughing, sitting on the couch with Jen as we discussed the start of my new life. My life was truly beginning and for the first time in a very long time, I was truly happy.

We descended the brief set of stairs and emerged into the hallway near the main concourse where Jen, Kayla, Sophia, and Miah were waiting.

“It’s your big day, Lyra,” Jen smiled widely and embraced me. 

“Are you nervous?” Miah asked me. I shrugged a little and giggled nervously.

“I spoke with Caius,” Kayla said to Sheena. “He is prepared, shall we go?”

“We shall,” Sheena nodded, taking my hand in hers. “the High Lady will want to see you after, undoubtedly.”

I gulped a little; I hadn’t seen the High Lady in some time and I couldn’t help but wonder what she would want with me.

“Oh, Lyra,” Sheena said. “During your recovery time, you are to remain under supervision, which means you will have to miss your lessons with Keniel.”

I stopped mid-stride and blushed, my jaw must have hit the floor. 

“You…you knew about that?” I squeaked. She side-eyed me and I heard Kayla snort. 

“Your lack of understanding of Klocby familial traditions never fails to amaze me, Lyra,” Kaya shook her head and continued walking. Miah and Sophia chatted amongst themselves, their voices imperceptible as we walked.

“Your Elder Sister knows everything,” Sheena informed me. “and your lessons are something that we will need to discuss once you have recovered.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I just-”

“You wanted to have something of your own,” Sheena finished for me, “I allowed it, because at least it kept you from trouble, hmm? But still, we must discuss.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what she wanted to discuss, and I also wondered if I had somehow gotten myself in trouble.

“Do you think we could get something to eat?” I suggested, suddenly feeling hungry. Sheena laughed.

“Lyra, you think with your stomach, do you know that?” She squeezed my hand.

“I do not!” I protested. “I’m just hungry, it’s breakfast time!”

“Remember what Caius said, dear sister, you cannot partake before the procedure. After is a different story.”

“He said that after I would be eating through a straw,” I protested. “A little something wouldn’t hurt.”

“Soon,” Sheena promised me.

 I had little time to think about what I wanted to eat, as we found ourselves in the medical wing, guided by a servant to a waiting room where we sat for perhaps half an hour. I twiddled my thumbs nervously until I was called back to an empty room where I disrobed, and was then taken to a strange room filled with equipment. Glass jars connected to diodes and brass tubes, gauges, leads, containers filled with fluids. In the center, a bed. Caius, the doctor, gestured for me to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Alright, Lyra,” He told me. “First off, I’ll need you to drink this.”

He handed me a glass bottle filled with a thin blue liquid, I eyed it curiously and then looked to him, questioningly.

“It is to prepare your body,” He explained. “The Mah’Kur crystals are effective, but this solution makes your body more susceptible. It is how we’ll be able to do the operation so quickly.”

“What is it called?” I asked him, turning the bottle over in my hand. 

“We call it Arctesonite,” He gestured for me to drink again. I realized, suddenly, that it was the stuff Sheena called ‘Arc’.

“Isn’t this what powers the city? You would have me drink fuel?”

“It can be used for many things, Lyra,” He smiled. “Bottoms up.”

I obediently drank the fluid, gagging a bit and wiping my watered eyes before he took the bottle away from me.

“That should do it,” He said, gesturing for me to lay down. As I did, he secured my feet with leather straps. “I’ll need you to count backward from one hundred for me.”

I looked around nervously as another doctor entered the room, and I squeezed my eyes shut when a brass mask was placed against my face. 

“Count down, Lyra,” Caius reminded me as I began to hyperventilate into the mask. 

“One hundred,” I said, my voice muffled by the mask. “Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven-”

My counting ceased, and I expected to fade off into a dreamless sleep as they had told me I would, but something happened. I didn’t feel like I was asleep; I felt like I was burning. It was hot, so incredibly hot, and I wanted to scream out in pain, but my body wouldn’t respond. The Mah’kur crystals, the ones they were using to sculpt, something was happening with them, my body was reacting.

“We will begin the procedure now,” Caius’s voice sounded far away, it floated down through the darkness, completely irrelevant in the face of my extreme pain. It burned every inch of my body as Caius and the assistant chattered about the procedure and how revolutionary it would be.

I’m awake! I screamed in my mind. I’m awake, please help me! Help me please!

Sheena, where are you, please help me!

I wouldn’t survive; whatever it was, it was tearing through my body, there would be nothing left. I would never see her again. If only I’d known, if I’d just known that those would be our last moments!

And then, something happened. The pain ceased, but the darkness didn’t come. If felt myself falling through endless space. Darkness, silence. Even my screams couldn’t penetrate the absolute silence that had formed around me as I plummeted from an unimaginable height, twisting and writhing, trying to figure out which direction was up, which was down. It all seemed the same, everything ran together. I was Micah, I was Lyra, I was no one. Then it ended. I found myself standing alone on a lush green hillside, a burning sun in the sky, wind against my cheek. In the distance I could see a beach with towering waves, and far off, further inland, crumbled buildings enraptured by red and gray vines, twisting and writing as they strangled the life from it. 

Where am I? I asked. “Where am I?” 

And then I knew. I suddenly knew. It was the Stormveil. I remembered. 

I remembered. 

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?”

“Thinking,” Sheena sighed. They stood in front of a glass window overlooking the Vice, a section of the Klocby Palace grounds marked by maroon roofs. The neighboring section, known simply as the Market Square was visible through the window and Sheena observed the deep purple thatched roofs and steeples. If the window had perhaps been a bit lower, she might have seen a myriad of people walking the streets, but as it was, a thick jungle of rooftops set against a gray horizon were the only sights to greet her. “You followed me.”

“Yes, I did,” Kayla said in her no-nonsense tone. “I worry for you.”

“You oughtn’t,” Sheena suggested. “the one to worry about is in there, on the table.”

“I disagree,” Kayla turned toward the window, overlooking the Vice with her.
I would venture to say that worries can be equally placed.”

“This…” Sheena said, a look of concern and confusion melding her features. “Is so…”

“I would say your concerns are warranted, as are mine. It has been six weeks since we came to know Lyra, who was before known as Micah Lavoric, son of a ruthless dictator who keeps his own people in bondage. You are wondering how in such a short time you came to call her sister, and whether or not it was the right decision to make. How close am I?”

“Very,” Sheen turned from the window and began to walk down the hall in the direction of the Triangle. Kayla fell in step beside her.

“It is…ludicrous,” Sheena said. “To put it lightly, I might add. How could I love someone like that? Am I doing the right thing? Could I be touched in the head? Who can even tell me?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Kayla said reassuringly. “I have seen great changes in Lyra, I am confident that she is who she says she is.”

“And yet…it seems impossible,” The argument Sheena made wasn’t meant to dissuade, but she found that sometimes throwing words off into space helped her sort out the problem in her head. “A person is a person, the way they think doesn’t change. They can adjust their behaviors, but then…it’s just an act. With Lyra it doesn’t seem to be an act, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Kayla agreed. “I would be the last person to lie to you.”

“But what does it mean? How can it be that Lyra is different from Micah? Balthasar and the High Lady are keeping things from us!”

“As they do,” Kayla said as they rounded a corner and emerged into the triangle, a connector that led to thee different passages, one of which would take her in the direction of the Octagon. “You know, and know well, that some things are above our station for a reason.”

“But things regarding my sister?” Sheena demanded. “I must find out! What does it mean? Has she suffered a type of mental break? Is she truly just a different person? How could it even happen?”

“I think perhaps you ought let it go,” Kayla suggested. “You have your sister, you know she is not the same as Micah Lavoric. What more would you ask for? Return to the hospital wing with me, wait with us for news of Lyra. Love your sister as she loves you.”

“Leave me be for a while,” Sheena instructed her. “I will return shortly.”

As Kayla left, Sheena walked faster, and faster, her skirts dragging the floor as she recalled the conversation that had played out days before.

“You’re not Micah Lavoric,” She had said. “Who are you?”

Who are you?

Who are you?

Her intense desire to believe was at odds with her father’s stern logic; always the realist.

But what would mother say?She wondered.

“I’m Lyra,”Was what Lyra had said. So matter of factly, so confident.

The Octagon left her feeling disoriented; she moved to the pillar in the center, leaning against the brass and laying her head back.

“What am I going to do?” She said to no one.

“About what?” Keniel asked, causing her to jump nearly out of her skin, but as luck would have it, she jumped a mere foot.

“Keniel!” She hissed. “You cannot sneak up on people like that!”

“Woman I was just walking through the Octagon,” He rolled his eyes. “Was you that wasn’t paying attention, if I might be so bold to say.”

“It’s nothing,” Sheena straightened herself and sorted out the wrinkles in her bodice. “I should go.”

“To wait for Lyra?” He asked; she spun to meet his gaze.

“You know, then?”

“About her procedure, yes, and are you worried that she is still Micah Lavoric to some extent?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Woman,” He rolled his eyes. “In this situation if it were not painted all over your face then I would suggest you’d be a prime candidate for an insane asylum. Such as it is, though, your concerns are warranted.”

“What have you observed?”

“That she is either a very good actress, or brain damaged.”

“You are so very funny, Keniel,” Sheena rolled her eyes.

“Would, that I were joking,” He said. “But alas, I speak in all seriousness. Whatever it is you are dealing with, it is not Micah Lavoric. Miss. Rossi, would you accompany me to the scribery?”

“That would be a touch scandalous, would it not?”

“Quite,” He said. “Come with me anyway.”

The inside of the scribery made Sheena twitch; the entire place was a stye. She stood there, staring at the piles of paper, the stacked notebooks, the disordered desks, and wondered how in Fadraiye Lyra could stand to spend so much time in here especially being in service. Even worse was the roaring hum of the machines creaking and grinding as they sputtered out stacks of paper covered in printed green letters. Did she not experience a constant urge to clean it? As it was, Keniel and the other scribes never allowed service personnel into their private domains, supposedly they were afraid of a vital document or page being misplaced. What would be the problem there? He had so many documents just lying about loose, surely he didn’t care that much about them!

“Your disgust is rather tangible,” He watched her as she eyed the contents of the room. “I assure you, this space is organized in a way that I can find what I need. Your skills are not required.”

“A good dusting wouldn’t hurt though, would it?”

“I suppose not,” He admitted. “I’ll add it to the list of other mundane tasks I need to complete before I get to the real work.”

“I did not mean to presume-”

“No,” He interjected. “You meant to commit to an abominable deep clean of my facilities all while your sister lies under the surgeon’s knife, now tell me, what is it that truly worries you?”

“She’s…said things. Phrases and words I don’t know,” Sheena admitted, her eyes still surveying the mess. “When she was in the hospital she said she ‘flipped her shit’. What is shit, and how does one flip it?”

Keniel shifted his weight, one hand on a stack of papers as he eyed her curiously as if trying to judge her level of sincerity. He opened his mouth to speak once, then closed it again.

“Miss Rossi,” he said finally. “How old are you?”

“Three and twenty, why?”

“I cannot fathom how you made it to the age of twenty-three without hearing the word ‘shit’, but as for flipping it, I have no notion. Do you recall the note you gave me? The one that Lyra wrote?”

“Of course,” Sheena nodded. “The one she wrote after her…uh…outburst.”

“That would be the one,” Keniel nodded. “As it happens, I had her write a bit more, and from her writings I could determine that what she had was a true written language. Now Miss Rossi, I am well versed in eighteen different tongues, as a royal scribe should be, and I can tell you that while her words form a complex language, it is nothing that is spoken on the content of Fadraiye, nor any of the kingdoms to the east. What I am trying to say is that either she invented her own language, which is unlikely given her mental capacity, or she is from somewhere that we are unfamiliar with.”

“That flies in the face of logic, does it not?” Sheena argued, though her argument did not hold much conviction. “We know she is Micah Laveric, at least in the physical. We know that she would have been raised in Slose, capital of Axock. These things are a surety!”

“Miss Rossi, there are strange things afoot here but there are two things that are for sure. The first is that your sister does not mean any harm. The second is that whatever answers you seek to find, you will not find them here. Now, as for the letter, I did the best I could to translate it to the common script, however as I made progress it was clear to me that she was not simply writing in code, this is an actual language, the way she writes is far different from anything we speak here or on the continent of Fadraiye. The idioms are different, the sentence structure is foreign. I translated it verbatim.”

He pulled a sheet from the table and crossed the room to hand it to her. Sheena met his gaze and stood for a moment before finally reaching out to take it. She inhaled deeply, almost wanting to resist the urge to read the note. What could it possibly say? Finally, she sunk down into one of the wooden office chairs and held the parchment out in front of her.

“Hi Sheena,

So this whole thing is a little weird isn’t it? I mean, when I lived with my father back in Slose I never imagined something like this could happen. You and me as sisters? You’re not like my other sister at all. You’re so nice, and you’re helping me a lot. It’s kind of sad that there are things I can say in a letter that I can’t say to your face, I guess that kind of makes me a coward, doesn’t it? I don’t really remember what happened in the Stormveil but I know I came out different; I came out wanting to be a better person than I was when I went in. I don’t want to be that person anymore Sheena and you’ve helped me so much even when I didn’t deserve it. What I did in the dorm was wrong and I embarrassed you. I made you look like an idiot in front of your parents just because I couldn’t control myself. It might not seem like a big deal to you - well, actually, it probably isn’t a big deal to you because you just let all kinds of stuff roll off of you, but I think that you gave me a chance to be a better person, to be the sister you knew I could be, and I failed. Do you know why I failed? Because it’s what I do, Sheena. When good things happen to me I find a way to ruin them because it’s just who I am. You’re a completely different person than me, Sheena. You’re smart, kind, caring, even happy. What is it like to be happy? No matter, I guess. I want to be your little sister, I love how much you care for me and I don’t want any of it to end but I guess part of being a better person, like I want to be, is knowing when to accept the consequences of my actions. I messed up. I made you look bad. I think you should go talk to the High Lady, and I think we should send me back to Axock. I don’t belong with someone like you. I don’t belong with anyone. I shouldn’t be around anyone. I wish things could have been better. I wish I could have been better. I wish, Sheena, that I could have been the person that you think I am. I love you, big sister. Thanks for trying.

Love,

Lyra

“It is…very difficult to read,” Keniel admitted as Sheena looked up from the letter and leaned back in the chair. She gave it another cursory glance and then let out a long exhale, setting the paper on her lap. “I hope it was readable.”

“It was,” Sheena said softly, closing her eyes and then opening them again. “Keniel I’m afraid I must take my leave. I need to be there when my sister awakens.”

1 Year and 8 Months Earlier - Inside the Stormveil

40 Years Before the Fall of Hybra

My fingers ached ever so slightly as I held the frayed cord of the net in my hand. I gave it a tug and watched it slide smoothly beneath the surface of the water laid out in front of me. Tarl had said there wouldn’t be much fishing here, but what did he know? Truthfully, none of us knew anything about this place, other than what we did know. The waters lapped steadily at the jagged rocks beneath my bare feet, white foam frothing on the surface. It was like a hungry beast going for its evening meal, and if I didn’t vacate before the rise of the tide, I could be its next meal. I reluctantly pulled the empty net in, breaking the surface of the water with great effort as the frayed rope had taken on so much water. It was empty, of course.

Fishing trips like this were a waste, but I enjoyed them nonetheless; they were an excuse to get away from the town, away from people. They called it Sardanus and it was home to twenty people just like me. Twenty people inexplicably plucked from their lives and placed in this endless, inescapable wasteland. I missed home sometimes; if my count was accurate, it had been ten years, and if my reflection in the troughs, lakes, and streams were to be believed, I hadn’t aged a day. I was still the sixteen year old girl who had disappeared on a national holiday. The year had been two thousand and thirteen. It seemed useless to number the years now. In my mind’s eye I recalled my straw-blonde hair, thin red lips, freckled face and pale blue eyes. In another life I might have worn makeup or styled my hair. Those days were gone.

I laid the net on the rocks, rolling it up and folding it over a few times. It would be difficult to carry back, but I was up for it.

The sun was high in the sky, blazing in a shade of light silver over the western end of the continent. The sun at my front, the roar of the waves to my back, I began the long walk to Sardanus, high up on the cliff side.

I passed a copse of trees, a boulder, and a field of tall grass, taking a moment to enjoy the scenery that I had seen a million times and would see a million more. As the village came into view, brown rooftops and stone fence poking up near the cliff side, I caught sight of Mariel walking toward me. Her hair was done up in a braid and she wore the same sack-cloth dress that I did, tied off at the waist with a length of salvaged rope.

“Lyra!” She waved to me, her approach anything but urgent. There seemed to be no reason to hurry around here, not anymore. “Marlenus needs you, they’re goin’ up to the stone.”

“The stone?” I said as I approached, walking past her so that she could fall in step beside me. “Someone new?”

“That’s right,” She nodded as she endeavored to keep up with my pace. “Two of them. Popped up earlier today, military type I think. One keeps screaming like a hog.”

“Most of them do,” I shrugged. “It’s weird to show up somewhere no one speaks your language.”

“You were quiet.”

“Always was, my mom hated it,” I took a right turn away from the second boulder and toward a dirt path that led through a briar patch; sharp thorns flanked us on both sides as we made our way up a steep hill. It was so bad in fact, that I dropped the net onto the ground before entering the path.

“I don’t know why you do it,” Mariel shook her head. “Go fishing down there when there’s no fish to catch.”

“Something to do,” I shrugged.

“Could explore.”

“Not with those things out there.”

Those things had appeared out of nowhere one day, nasty creatures, seven feet tall, blades on their elbows and wrists. Kind of lizard-like. They left us alone though, as long as we didn’t wander too far out into their territory. There were other dangers out there in the wilderness too; other animals. Bears the size of houses, bugs the size of dogs; corpses brought back to life that would eat you through. Rip out your jugular. The whole place was a death trap, but if you dared to make your way through the Ghostwalk or even the hospital ruins, you might find yourself in another town filled with other people who had been sucked into this never-ending nightmare. It wasn’t fair to call it a nightmare; my dreams had worse.

“Lyra’s here,” Brutus said to Marlenus as I crested the hill. Marlenus glanced up to me and whispered something to Via who nodded and then moved toward the two newcomers, one of which was bound, his arms pinned behind his back by two hulking villagers. The other was a balding man with a scarred face, dressed in the same black military uniform, but oddly quiet, as if waiting to see how the situation played out. The bald man said something in a strange language to the other one who appeared to be around my age, only to recieve a series of shouts and struggles in return. The man shook his head and then looked expectantly to me.

“We’re ready, Lyra,” Marlenus gestured toward the massive crystal in front of us, positioned atop a stone pedestal covered in mysterious glyphs.

“Yeah, but is he?” I gestured toward the guy who was now red in the face and screaming at the top of his lungs. “You going to hold him still long enough?

“Do the other one first,” Marlenus gestured toward the balding man. Brutus casually stepped around the crystal and while the man tensed, he put up no obvious resistance as Brutus took him by the wrist and placed his hand against it. The crystal began to hum and vibrate, coming to life with the touch of an organic lifeform. I’d seen it before, done it before, and in truth, the reason they wanted me here, was that I was the best one for the job. They could all do it, but I was faster. I stepped forward and placed both hands on the crystal; the humming was then accompanied by a glowing from deep within the core. It continued as a purple-black light pulsed and I closed my eyes, concentrating. Then, all at once, the humming stopped.

“Can you understand me?” Marlenus asked the man. The man looked at him, confused.

“Uh…yes, I can,” The man said. “What is this?”

“People come here from all over,” Marlenus explained. “Makes sense they’d want us to communicate. Don’t ask me who ‘they’ are, got no idea. Who are you? How’d you get here?”

“Name is Commander Balthasar Hammond,” The man replied. “Our airship crashed into the sea. We breached the Stormveil with shields designed around Mah’Kur crystals.”

“Makkur? Stormveil? No idea what you’re talking about, friend, let’s get your man to the stone.”

We repeated the process with the boy, and after a few things were explained to him, he stopped fighting.

“Your name?” Marlenus asked him.

“I am…Micah Lavoric,” He said breathlessly, doing his best to straighten up. “Son of Lord Stephen Lavoric, Duke of Axock.”

Marlenus looked to Brutus who simply shrugged.

“Names and titles are useless here, boy,” Marlenus told him; Micah gritted his teeth and glared. “Seeing as you’re never going home again. Here we all do our fair share. You’ll work the fields, or you’ll fish, draw water, whatever needs done, whatever you’re good at.”

“Are you serious?” Micah spat. “The Duke’s son, work the fields? You must be mad!”

“Mad enough that I’ll let you starve to death if you don’t pitch in,” Marlenus said. There was no underlying humor in his tone, he meant every word of it. The real humor was hidden within the fact that we didn’t necessarily need food. We grew it, we ate it, but we could live without it here.

“This is not quite how I pictured the Stormveil,” Balthasar said. “But it’s just as well. I was tired of your father’s stupid wars anyway.”

“Stormveil?” Brutus frowned. “What’s a Stormveil?”

“This place I presume,” Balthasar gestured widely to the landscape around us. I glanced in the direction he indicated, over the hill and toward the lowlands that were dotted with jagged cliffs and emerging trees. Over the cliff’s edge far off in the distance, waves crashed into the sand and retreated just as quickly as they came. “We came through the Stormveil, and landed here. Is that not where we are?”

“We all came here in different ways,” Marlenus told him. “I was exploring a cave, in the Principality of Canweld, Brutus fell through a mirror, apparently, clumsy oaf that he is. Lyra was struck by lightning. You say you came through a…storm wall?”

“Balthasar,” Micah said. “You cannot take this man seriously, he is lying to us!”

“Shut your trap, lad,” Balthasar growled. “We’re out of our depth here, best listen to the man. Yes, the Stormveil is a wall of wind and lightning that was created by a race called the Mah’Kur thirty years ago, it tore through the continent of Fadraiye running east to west. Cut us off from the other half of the world.”

“The Mah’Kur?” I asked, curiously, getting an awkward glance from Micah.

“You let your servant girls speak?” He demanded.

“Mind your tongue!” Brutus snapped, stepping close and towering over Micah. Brutus had a good foot on Micah and was built as a wall of muscle. “We have no servants here, and if you treat that girl as one I’ll tear you limb from limb!”

Micah gulped and paled, stepping back and looking to me apologetically.

“Apologize to the girl,” Marlenus ordered. “Or I cannot be held responsible for what Brutus does to you.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Micah said to me, lowering his head.

“I think the Mah’Kur’ are those shadow people that popped up a while back,” Mariel said helpfully. “They don’t bother us much, just so long as we don’t get too close to them.”

“Hmph,” Brutus nodded his agreement. “You should speak with Tarl, or Talena, they’ve been closest to them.”

“If you can pry them off of eachother for long enough!” Marlenus laughed. “Amazing those two haven’t lost the urge, long as they’ve been here. What is it now, fifty, sixty years?”

“At least,” I confirmed. “At least they say.”

“We’d best be getting back,” Marlenus gestured toward the sky. “It’ll be dark soon, don’t want to get caught out here.”

The night was uneventful; we returned to Sardanus; I ducked into the small hovel where Mariel and I stayed; we shuttered the windows and hung the curtains, blocking out any light that could have possibly escaped through the slats. They liked the light, always came for it.

“What’d you think of him?” Mariel asked me as she nibbled on a piece of bread. I walked to the shelf, or rather our makeshift pantry and sorted through baskets of assorted beans, nuts, and berries, picked fresh at the beginning of the week. I finally settled for a dry string bean, if that’s what it even was, and chewed on it as I sat on my bed, tucked away on the far side of the room. The space was small, maybe the size of my mom’s living room, and the walls were all brown driftwood that she and I had salvaged over a few years. Our little house hadn’t even been here when I’d arrived.

“Who?” I asked, laying back and dropping my head onto a makeshift pillow, which was really just a pile of animal skins folded up. I turned to look at her, her dark face peered back at me, filtered by the flickering candlelight positioned in the middle of our table.

“The cute one,” She said. “Obviously.”

Mariel had never really talked about where she was from, but if I had to take a wild guess, I would have said she came from wherever I did, but farther back. Some people talked about it, other people didn’t. I guess some people were just all talked out and I could understand it, what was the use of going on about a place you were never going to see again. I wondered, sometimes, if my mom ever thought about me.

“You think he’s cute?” I raised a eyebrow at her and then chuckled silently to myself. “You saw that tantrum he threw, didn’t you? That’s not cute.”

“Come now, Lyra,” Mariel chided. “They’re all a bit disoriented and upset when they get here. Besides, he’s kind of adorable.”

“Kind of looked like he belonged in a diaper,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“So you like the bald one?”

“Do I have to like either of them?” I asked, exasperated. “I like you.”

“I could live with that, I ‘spose,” Mariel laughed. “Goodnight, Lyra.”

“Goodnight.”

The morning came quickly, not that it mattered all that much. No one was in a rush to do anything, there was no real schedule, and why should there be when we didn’t age, and were essentially working toward nothing? Still, there were things to do, and if we were going to be comfortable, we simply had to. I recalled one year when no one really wanted to to anything and our little town fell into decay. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.

I climbed out of the bed and made it, out of habit. I tucked the fur blanket beneath the mattress and patted Mariel awake after I’d pulled myself into my scratchy burlap dress, rope tied at the waist to give it a bit of shape. I should dye the fabric; we had plenty of berries and I always did look good in blue.

The town was alive in the early hours, as the darkness of night waned and gave way to the silver sun, rising high in the east. The smell of salt air filled my nostrils as I strode past the well and walked over to Marlenus who was hard at work fixing a gardening tool.

“How goes it?” I asked him. He looked up and shrugged. “Same as any other day. The new man, Balthasar, seems to enjoy it here. A soldier, apparently. I asked him to take a look at our weapons, he wanted to work the field. Guess a man gets tired of war.”

“Guess so,” I said. “And the other one?”

“Little more difficult,” Marlenus wrapped a length of twine around the head of the tool, then tested it, shaking it back and forth. “Doesn’t want to work the fields, won’t take inventory, won’t cook - says that’s women’s work. Can’t get him to draw water from any of the wells, doesn’t want to hunt. Thinks he should be in charge of something.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I said. Marlenus nodded. “Don’t see it doing a whole lot.”

“What else have we to do?”

I found him sitting on a pile of wood, slumped over, head in his hands. He was still dressed in that ugly black army uniform, his hair all messed up, boots scuffed but laced up tight. We could probably use that fabric for something.

“Hey, new guy!” I shouted in his direction, though I was standing just a few feet away. He looked up at me, annoyance evident in his expression.

“And just what do you want, servant girl?”

“You keep calling me that, and I’ll turn you into the servant,” I warned him. “and don’t think I won’t.”

“You dare speak to me this way?” He demanded. “Do you not understand who I am?”

“Look to me like a big crybaby, afraid of doing some honest work. Which is fine, if you don’t want to eat. You do want to eat, don’t you?”

He looked up at me; I could see the hunger in his eyes, and I folded my arms, looking at him expectantly.

“In Axock I would have you killed for speaking to me in this manner,” He huffed.

I looked to my left, and then to my right.

“I don’t see Axock anywhere,” I shrugged. “I just see Liminality.”

“Limi…what?”

“That’s what they call this place, it’s written out on one of the standing stones, up north. You can read it pretty clearly after you’ve touched the translator crystal. Liminality.”

“What does it mean?”

“How should I know?” I shrugged. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to fish.”

“I do not fish,” He said firmly. “My servants do it for me.”

“I don’t see any servants around,” I said turning from him and walking away. “Guess you’ll have to do for yourself.”

“Your name is Lyra?” He asked, following close behind me as I walked toward a storage shed. Inside, I grabbed two cane poles and tossed one to Micah; it missed him entirely and dropped onto the ground.

“You gotta catch it,” I pointed to the pole, now on the ground beside him. He looked down at it in apparent confusion.

“What is it?” He asked me. “Why should I pick it up?”

“It’s a fishing pole, and you’re a moron,” I walked past him, half listening for him to pick up the pole and trudge after me, which he did.

“I am the Lord Micah Lavoric!” He shouted after me. “I do not fish!”

“You’re the lord of shit!” Someone called after him. I snickered.

“Do you think I want to be fishing at this god awful hour?” I asked him without turning to look at him. We crossed the border out of the village and trudged toward the hills; a large lake would await us; in my early day here I’d gone swimming there, but now I no longer cared to do it. “There was a time, Lord Micah Lavoric, of Shit, when I would spend my Saturday mornings lying in bed playing with my phone, and then I’d get up, smoke a joint with my friends, and surf Facebook all day. That was living, Micah Lavoric, Lord of Shit. Now we just exist, and so do you.”

“This is unacceptable!” He shouted after me as we crested the hill and the lake came into view. “Has no one ever tried to leave?”

“You look hot in that uniform,” I told him. “And I don’t mean attractive. You’re not attractive by any means. No, I mean you should dress like the rest of us, you’ll catch a heat stroke walking around like that.”

“I will not wear rags!” He said indignantly. “I am-”

“The Lord of Shit, we know,” I rolled my eyes. “Let me show you how to catch a fish.”

I caught seven fish that day, he caught none, but I’d been expecting that. I never thought the Lord of Shit would be good at anything, but at least I’d gotten him to do something. As we walked back toward the town, my fish securely inside a burlap sack, I caught a glimpse of his friend, Balthasar, chopping wood with one of our improvised stone axes. Truth be told he looked as if he were right at home by the woodpile. He’d shed his black uniform top and was wearing a white undershirt, a piece of cloth tied about his forehead to block the sweat from his eyes.

“Take these fish to that building, over there,” I said, handing the bag to Micah. “Don’t get lost.”

As he stomped off toward the building I indicated, I walked toward Balthasar. The sound of splitting wood grew louder as I approached. He seemed to be a man in his sixties, and judging from the scars on his face, he’d seen a lot of action, wherever he was from. He nodded to me as I approached, splitting another log, and then replacing it.

“You uh…found your place here kind of fast,” I observed. “Usually takes people months. Micah over there can’t even catch a fish. Are you…going to ask how to leave Liminality?”

“No,” He said simply, splitting the next log.

“You sure you don’t…want to ask me a bunch of pointless questions about how to get home?”

“Not a chance,” He shook his head. “I’ve spent a lifetime doing the dirty deeds of Lord Stephen Lavoric, often under the threat of death. I wanted to be a simple farmer. Then, I get thrown into this place where I’ll live forever, and work as a farmer. Why in the three hells should I want to ruin that?”

“That is…an interesting perspective,” I admitted. “Well, in case you wanted to know later there’s really no way to-”

“Don’t care,” He cut me off. “Is there good fishing up in the hills?”

“Not if your boy is doing it,” I smirked. He chuckled a little.

“He’ll either learn or get eaten by one of those bears your friend Tarl spoke of. Heard they’re the size of the building, would love to take one down. Roast bear is always a treat.”

“You’ll have to do that all on your own, old man,” I laughed. He grunted and attacked the next log.

“You like it, don’t you?” He asked. I frowned.

“Like what?”

“Telling people there’s no way out of here. Bet you like seeing the light go out of their eyes when they realize they’re stuck here.”

“I mean I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“We’ve all got our guilty pleasures, girl. What was your name again, Lyra?”

“Lyra,” I confirmed.

“I like you, Lyra.”

“I may like you too, old man, we’ll see,” I walked away, off toward the village, hopefully to find something to do. Talena always had some vegetables to chop, Brutus was probably working on drying out some meat. I guessed that Balthasar would have the firewood taken care of for the next century. And Micah? Well, he was sulking in a corner again.

Days passed, then weeks, then months; they all ran together. I eventually forgot that those two were even new to the village. New people arrived, some stayed, some departed for neighboring villages. A few were mauled by animals. It was hard to die in Liminality, but not impossible. Balthasar grew on me over time; he often talked about going on a bear hunt, but so far it hadn’t materialized into anything. He was probably having second thoughts about taking on a bear the size of a house, though I had to admit, roast bear did sound good.

Seven months later I found myself walking a familiar forest path and for the first time in a long time, my thoughts turned to home again. A wave of grief gut punched me as I recalled our trailer in a decrepit old park just outside of Cincinnati. Those faux wood walls, the hole in the carpet, the way the wind howled against the tin walls on stormy nights. That old Nintendo with its dusty cartridges sitting in the living room next to the TV. Simple things, simple memories of a place I would never see again and not for lack of trying. Everyone who came to Liminality tried their best to escape at some point. They asked questions to the point of exhaustion, they searched the hills and valleys, read the translator stone over and over, checked the standing stones, came up with wild theories, and at some point, they just accepted it. The stages of grief in Liminality were weird.

When I looked up again I realized I was lost, deep within an unfamiliar part of the forest. I sighed. It wasn’t the first time, I’d gotten lost before, one time for three months. We couldn’t die of hunger here, and our bodies healed extremely fast. Getting lost was an inconvenience apart from the threat of wild animals; I doubted anyone would come looking for me.

I pushed on into the woods; with luck I might come out the other side, maybe run into another village that could give me directions back home. Then again, I might just be stuck there for a few months; time didn’t mean a whole lot here, especially when you had so much of it. I passed into a clearing that culminated in a hill, atop which were another set of standing stones. In my early days here, I’d been extremely interested in those stones, convinced they were a way out. Now I had decided that if they were a way out, they weren’t intended for me. Nevertheless, I climbed up to the stones and took a look at them, all engraved in that same odd, practically alien script that I’d seen on the rest of them. I let out a sigh and took a seat on the rock dead center of the circle, then laid back and watched the sky. It was blue today, like home with puffy white clouds floating by. I watched them and tried to pick out some shapes. A dog, a car, a spaceship, a penis, and then, finally, I sat up in the middle of the circle. I froze, laying my eyes on something that I’d never seen before.

Just outside the circle, there was something familiar to the Liminality - a lioness. Liminality had a lot of Earthlike animals, feeding into one of my theories that it was an alternate reality that fed on the ideas of other realities. Everyone else had looked at me as if I were crazy when I’d said it aloud. The lion, however, was made entirely of glass.

It was translucent, shining bright in the mid-day sun, a low growl emitted from its jowls as it paced the interior of the circle, eyes on me. I should run, scream, do something, but there was nowhere to go. Ten years in Liminality and I was going to be murdered by a glass lion. That was somehow fitting.

“He won’t hurt you,” A small voice said. I spun to see a boy of maybe seven years old with a shorn head standing just behind the stone I’d been lying on a moment ago. My eyes widened as I looked from him, to the lioness. He cocked his head at me and frowned. “I’m sorry if you were afraid, he’s very protective of me.”

“She,” I corrected, suddenly breathless.

“She?” He frowned again.

“It’s a lioness, it’s a she,” I gestured to the glass lion, still circling. My fear wasn’t subsiding, but at least I wasn’t in a panic now.

“Oh,” He laughed a little. “I made her, I didn’t know that.”

“You…made her?”

“Of course!” He laughed. “I made all of this!”

“…all…of what?” I looked to the boy in utter confusion. He looked ordinary, just like everyone here, dressed in burlap, a tanned complexion, and of course several feet shorter than me.

“This,” He gestured to the forest.

“The…forest?”

“No, all of it!” He folded his arms and stamped his foot. “Don’t you believe me?”

“I…”

“Here, I’ll show you!”

I watched in a mixture of horror and amazement as he waved his hand, and a tree grew from the ground, starting as a tiny sapling, then growing faster and faster until I had to dive out of the stone circle, landing on my backside and gawking at the now fully grown tree.

“How…did you ….how did you do that?!” I gasped.

“Do you want me to teach you?” He walked over and stood over me, laughing, as if he’d just played the biggest prank of his life.

“Yes,” I said. “You can show me?”

“Of course!” He smiled. “But come play with me first!”

The scene faded, the boy, the forest, the standing stones, all of it transitioned to darkness as a hand laid on my shoulder. I sucked in a breath, my stomach lurching as I was yanked from sleep by the sound of Sheena’s voice.

“Lyra? See, she’s waking up. Lyra honey, it’s okay, it’s all over!”

“Sheena…” I muttered, opening my eyes. I was in a white room, laying on something flat. Reality was slowly coming back to me, the disconnect was lessening. She was there, Sheena, smiling at me.

“It’s over, sweetie, it worked, okay? It worked!”

“Sheena?” I said weakly.

“Yes, hon?”

“I need to see the High Lady.”

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

“How long have you known?” My words came forth as a strained whisper; something about my face just didn’t feel right; Sheena had told me it was swollen. The High Lady stood at the end of my bed, arms folded, her guards, as usual, flanking the door with shouldered weapons and stern expressions.

“Lyra,” Sheena hissed. “Show some respect!”

“That’s quite alright, Sheena,” She waved her hand dismissively as she regarded me. “I’ve known since just after the summit. Balthasar originally concealed much of his knowledge of the Stormveil, though I fail to see why, and when he’d heard about you, and your decision to become Lyra, he came forward in an effort to make sure you were protected. Today I would judge that his efforts paid off.”

“But you knew I wasn’t him,” I said with great effort, my muscles straining with every movement of my lips. “you knew, and you still treated me like him.”

“Because you were him for a while, Lyra,” The High Lady unfolded her arms and stepped closer, standing across from Sheena and resting her weight on the bed. “Balthasar explained to us how this happened, and it was decided that we would wait to see which personality won out. Clearly, Micah was the weaker. I’m sorry Lyra, but I took the word of the man who had known you for forty years.”

“Forty years? So why not tell me what happened in the Stormveil?” I demanded. “Why are you leaving me in the dark like this? If you know then tell me!”

“Lyra!” Sheena hissed as I raised my voice at the end of the sentence. I dropped back onto the bed, my head slamming against the pillow with a ‘poof’.

“Telling you would be counterproductive,” The High Lady explained in a terse tone that clearly invited no worthwhile discussion. “Lyra, if your mind isn’t ready to remember then force feeding you the information isn’t going to help you. In fact it might hurt you. Lyra, listen, this is a world of steam and machines, cranks and gears, and brutal politics; the supernatural is not our forte, you understand. We have very little understanding of what happened to you, even Balthasar who witnessed it firsthand. We don’t know how to help you other than in the ways we already have.”

“What if I went back to the Stormveil?” I argued. “I had another life, somewhere else, it’s hard to remember, I just have flashes and-”

“Lyra, I am sorry,” The High Lady said firmly, positively indicating that it was time for me to stop speaking. “We don’t know, we simply don’t know. If you can come up with a convincing reason why we should mount an expensive expedition using highly experimental technology to transport one single person through the Stormveil, likely sacrificing dozens if not hundreds of others in the process, then I will absolutely be opening to listening to you. Until then, try enjoying what you have.”

I looked over to Sheena who sat beside my bed, giving me a perplexed stare; I closed my eyes, a feeling of shame suddenly overtaking me. The room lay silent, the hum of a intravenous pump resonating louder than before as I finally opened my eyes and looked to Sheena who had now leaned back and folded her hands onto her lap.

“Lyra, seeing as you are Lyra,” The High Lady said, stepping back and around to the end of the bed again. “Your sentence is suspended indefinitely, I release you into the custody of your sister, she will dictate your life course until you reach the age of majority.”

The High Lady left us alone in the recovery room, Sheena began to wring her hands. Finally, she broke the uncomfortable silence by standing and crossing the room.

“Sheena,” I called after her but getting no response as she shot me one more disdainful glance before exiting the room. I lay there on the bed in complete shock; what had happened? Why was she angry? What had I done?

I tried to stand up, to follow her, but found that my muscles just didn’t respond in the way they should. I made it halfway off the bed before Caius’s assistant entered and told me to stay put. And so I laid there, all day, hour after boring hour as the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach grew. Finally, there was a knock at the door, prompting me to look up; Jen stood in the door along with Miah and Sophia. I smiled weakly, so much as I could with a swollen face and they stepped in to congratulate me.

“Caius says you did well!” Jen exclaimed happily. “And look at your face!”

“And everything else,” Miah pointed out. I followed her gaze, looking down at my body for the first time. My eyes went wide as I saw a form completely unfamiliar to me, yet perfectly right. I ran my hands up and down the fabric of the brown frock they had dressed me in following the procedure, feeling the perfect sculpting of my breasts, thighs, the curve of my waist.

“I…I need a mirror,” I said, struggling to climb off the bed. Jen laughed and pushed me down, I crumpled under her strength.

“Perhaps later,” Jen told me. “They say you’ll need your rest for several days yet.”

“I need to see Sheena,” I told her, struggling again. “I-”

“Why is she not here?” Sophie asked, causing me to go slack.

“I…”

“We passed her in the Octagon,” Miah offered helpfully. “Did you not see?”

“I hadn’t paid too close attention,” Jen laughed. “We were in such a rush to get here!”

“She looked upset,” Miah said with some degree of concern. “Did something transpire between you two?”

There was little that I could think of, save for my conversation with the High Lady, but what could I tell them about that? The very concept of another world, especially the one that I had supposedly come from would make me sound, well, insane. Not to mention I was fairly certain that I wasn’t supposed to mention it.

Eventually, Miah and Sophia left, leaving just Jen to sit with me.

“I cannot wait to see what you look like once the swelling recedes,” She chattered on. “And your shape now! The things you will be able to wear!”

She continued speaking of things that should have been of the utmost importance to me but as she chattered on, all I could think about was Sheena. Why had she left? Why hadn’t she come back? I tried my best to participate in the converation with her but between the swelling of my face and the growing sickness in the pit of my stomach, I found myself unable to concentrate on anything she had to say.

“You seem tired,” Jen smiled. “I must make my way back to the dorm. Oh! They finished the servant’s quarters, we’ll be moving in there shortly. Is that not exciting?”

“It is,” I said, offering her a swollen smile. It was the best I could do.

The day faded away into a sleepless night as I awoke several times in a cold sweat amongst the whirring, clicking, and pumping of darkened machinery. At one point I even awakened thinking it was odd that none of the machines were lit; why would I even think that? Then, in the darkness, I cried. I turned onto my stomach, in spite of Caius’ orders and screamed muffled sobs into my pillow. I’d done something, something awful and now Sheena was gone. I just wanted her back, just for a minute.

No. No I couldn’t be like this. I turned over, wiping my eyes and wincing as the skin became irritated. She’d left me, it was over, she didn’t want me to be her sister anymore. Did she really even want it in the first place? Of course she didn’t, why would she? After all, look at me. A boy pretending to be a girl, and a girl pretending to want her as a sister. I couldn’t fault her for being nice, but I also couldn’t deny how much it hurt. I had to find a way to make it without her. I had done it before, hadn’t I? When I’d first come here, Sheena was no one to me, just a cruel overseer, someone to be avoided. I could have made it without her help. Why did she have to stick her nose into my life?

I tried to thoroughly convince myself and failed miserably; I found myself crying into the pillow again, sob after sob accompanied by the occasional cough and snot accumulating on the fabric. My eyes were raw by the next morning when Caius’s assistant returned and set me to performing a series of exercises to strengthen my legs. I was glad of it, as the work served to take my mind off of Sheena, but each time we were drawn into conversation, I couldn’t help but think about her, about what I’d done. I was alone now and there was nothing to be done for it.

The next day the swelling had gone down; I was feeling better, though I was unsteady on my feet. Finally, Caius himself came to evaluate my condition.

“The swelling has subsided quite nicely,” He said, pressing his fingers to my face and then touching various parts of my body. “I was unsure how the procedure would go, we’ve never sculpted a body using Mah’Kur energy, well, at least not as much of a body.”

“I guess I was your test run then,” I offered a mild joke, but it didn’t quite take.

“In a manner of speaking,” He said, either dismissing the humor or missing it entirely. “we have used the crystals to sculpt in the past. Funny things these crystals, we know so little about them yet we are so bold to use them in life or death situations. In the past thirty years we’ve designed medical devices around them, used them as power sources, even combined them with Arctesonite.”

“Arctesonite?” I perked up a little. “What does that do?”

“Ah, the eh…power source that Lady Jenwise had ordered integrated into the palace. It hasn’t quite reached the outer reaches of Auglire yet but I assume it will.”

“How does it work?”

“I am a doctor, Lyra,” Caius said as he scrawled some notes. “You might ask Parsifal, it would be more appropriate.”

“I apologize,” I said. “I didn’t mean to presume.”

“No matter, I am, however, clearing you to leave. You’ll still be unstable on your feet for a few hours, so I’ll arrange for that sister of yours to pick you up.”

Caius left me in the room and I sat there in anticipation. Sheena had been so angry when she left me, would she really come now? I waited for what seemed like hours, inching closer and closer to the edge of the bed and then pulling myself back, lying down, sitting up. She wasn’t coming, I convinced myself. She had abandoned me, as she should. I felt the tears coming again, that telltale pain in my forehead as a sniffle burst from my nose. Wiping my eyes, I immediately fell back to the bed and cried into the already soiled pillow. I stayed like that, sobbing, shaking, trying to will myself away from the situation. I wanted to float into that eternal blackness, away from this, away from Sheena, away from everyone who had invested their time in me. I wasn’t worth it; I had never been worth it.

“Lyra,” Sheena’s voice sounded from beside me. Warily, I raised my head which was now practically plastered to the sleeve of my gown and looked at her through burning, tear-stained eyes. She looked at me indifferently and then pursed her lips as if trying to avoid speaking. “Get dressed.”

I slid into the blue dress she’d brough with her; it was a simple garment, lacking a bodice or a petticoat which made it far easier to slip into the wheelchair that she’d brought with her. I resisted the urge to make any sort of commentary on my distaste for being in a wheelchair again as she wordlessly rolled me out of the recovery room and into the main hallway of the hospital quarter. The trip back to the servant quarter was completely silent; we passed few people in the hall, and instead of wheeling me back to the dorms, she took me to a lift that led directly to the hallway where her office resided.

“I didn’t know there was a lift here,” I tried to sound excited, hoping to incite a conversation, but got little more than a grunt from Sheena.

Inside the office, she helped me to the couch and then pulled the chair away from her desk, positioning it in front of me and taking a seat. We sat there for a while; I was unsure of what to say. Finally I spoke, had to.

“Sheena, I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me. I need you, you’re my elder sister, I…I can’t…I can’t live without you. I don’t know what I did; if you just…if you just tell me what I did I promise I won’t do it again, I’ll do better, I promise.”

“Lyra…” She said, trailing off and leaving the sentence open ended. With no option left, I gripped the edge of the couch and scooted myself forward, dropping off the edge and onto the floor, kneeling in front of her and staring up, into her utterly shocked face. I yelped at the impact, my legs barely able to handle the strain. “Lyra!”

“Please, Sheena,” I said as sincerely as I could. “I can’t lose you, I can’t…please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, I love you!”

“Lyra!” She hissed, almost angrily. “Did it ever occur to you that you had nothing to apologize for?!”

I looked at her, utterly confused as she rose from the chair, tossed it aside and kneeled on the floor, directly in front of me. She took my hands in hers and scooted closer, our faces inches apart.

“But I do!” I protested. “It’s always me, Sheena, it’s always me! Ever since I came here I’ve been the problem! I didn’t listen to you, I fought you every step of the way! It’s my fault that you hate me!”

“Oh Goddess, Lyra, I don’t hate you!” She said, sounding shocked. “I could never hate you, not as you are now! When you came here, perhaps more than a bit, but there is so much more to you! I left you alone because I knew there was no reason for me to be as angry as I was, I wanted to avoid saying anything…rash!”

I sat there stunned as she took me into her arms and hugged me tight. The upset of the past few days washed away; she was my sister again, and I wouldn’t ruin it this time.

“I should have been there,” She said, her head still resting on my shoulder. “I should have stayed by your bedside as you recovered and for that I am sorry. Can you forgive me, little sister?”

I sniffled and nodded into her shoulder, though I wasn’t sure exactly what I was forgiving.

“Come on,” She said, helping me to my feet. “We’ll be starting soon, but first, you must see.”

“See?”

“Come,” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and led me across the room. I limped a little bit as the soreness in my muscles flared. Caius had told me it would be a result of the sculpting and would subside shortly. I wished it would hurry up.

With her help I stumbled over to a full length mirror on the other side of her small office. It wasn’t a huge mirror; it was placed next to a clothing rack that contained several colorful gowns - perhaps too colorful for wearing around the palace, especially as a servant. It occurred to me that she’d probably worn them at home, back when she was still attending family functions.

“Look,” She turned my head away from the dresses and toward the mirror; a gasp escaped my parted lips as I beheld myself for the first time since the procedure. The girl in the mirror was me, but she was something completely different. A young girl, my age, my complexion, but the face was softer, rounder. The body had more of a curve to it, and I seemed thinner overall. It was impossible, completely impossible, but as I touched my fingers to my trembling face, I knew that it was real. The countenance of Micah Lavoric was gone and had been replaced with the girl I knew to be Lyra. The uncertainty, pain, and sadness off the last few days dissolved completely as Sheena leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Welcome home, little sister.”

“Thank you,” I said, still trembling as I turned to embrace her. “Thank you, Elder Sister…”

She laughed and returned the hug, then pulled back, grinning softly at me.

“Well,” She said. “We should ready ourselves. It’s almost time.”

“Time for dinner?” I asked as my stomach rumbled. She laughed and walked to the clothes rack, pulling out a long white dress made from a thin material, which she set aside.

“Let’s get you dressed,” She said.

I didn’t ask questions, I didn’t want to ruin the moment, whatever this moment might contain. I removed my blue dress and carefully folded it, then slipped into the long white dress. Unlike the blue dress which I’d just removed, this one was much lighter, softer, and flowed all the way to my feet. I giggled a little as I did a slow twirl, euphoric as the material swished against my legs. Sheena wrapped a white sash around my waist, bringing the ensemble together. Then, she pulled a similar dress off the rack for herself, and tied it at the waist with a green sash.

“Are you ready?” She asked me, smiling warmly and extending her hand. I didn’t know exactly what I should be ready for, but I nodded and took her hand anyway, allowing her to lead me from the room. The soreness in my legs was beginning to subside just as Caius said it would and it wasn’t long before I was walking relatively normally. In the hall, we met Sophia, Jen, Miah, and Kayla, all of whom were wearing similar gowns with different colored sashes, red, blue, green, purple, no particular pattern to it, but matching nonetheless.

“Well if it isn’t Lyra!” Jen threw her arms around me, laughing a bit as I winced.

“So that would be what she looks like then!” Miah inspected me, looking me over from head to toe. “Come a long way from that first morning in the locker room, aye?”

“She has indeed,” Kayla agreed. “Are we ready?”

“We are,” Sheena acknowledged. “Quite so.”

“Everyone take a lantern then,” Kayla gestured to a row of brass lanterns that had been lined up against the wall behind us.

We walked in a group, chattering amongst ourselves quietly as we entered the main concourse. To my utter shock and surprised, we fell in step with a multitude of other girls, servants, commoners, and upper class, all dressed in the same white gowns.

“Where are we going?” I whispered to Sheena. She smiled and wrapped took her hand in mine as we followed suit with the others, passing through the Vice and out a side door that led us to the eastern wall, the door of which was already opened. We walked down a gravel path for a time, my senses overwhelmed by the scent of grass, the sight of flickering torch-bugs that dotted the air around us, flickering on and off in rapid but random succession. Gravel crunching beneath our feet, we moved through the light of dusk and entered a brief patch of forest which opened onto an open field that completely and utterly took my breath away. Laid out before us was an extensive marshland surrounded partially by trees, obscuring the city wall behind us, but the rest was exposed to the open countryside stretching before us in an endless carpet of green as the light of dusk gradually faded, giving credence to the yellow light of our lanterns. That, however, was dwarfed by the sight in front of us. We passed through the marshland, our feet splashing the shallow waters as we passed through the knee-high ferns, all of which were alight in their bioluminescent secretion that brought them to glow green against the night while simultaneously bringing the fen itself to a lesser, but albeit brilliant shade of lighter green; a pull of radiance in the night accented by the twinkling torch-bugs that gave life to the night.

On the opposite side of the fen I could see a line of men, servants, nobles, and other commoners, dressed in their own shade of white pants and light tunic tops, each, each carrying their own lantern. We met in the middle, walking in a circular fashion, counteracting one another until we stood in a large circle, women lining the center, men on the exterior. As I observed them out there on the edge, a rush of excitement washed over me as I realized that this was the Beltane ritual. I had never participated in it before; in Axock they didn’t allow such superstitions, but being here, on the inside circle with women treating me as one of their own, I felt validated, I felt happy, I felt free. Sheena gave me a quick pat on the arm as she stepped into the center of the circle along with another woman in white, a man who looked to be in his forties, and another man, none of whom I recognized. The four of them stepped toward the center and placed their lanterns on a wooden pedestal that must have been placed there in advance. Then, as they stepped back, Sheena spoke first, her voice booming across the surface of the water, her face and features brilliantly illuminated in a mixture of flickering lamplight and radiant green from the glowing fen.

“Guardians of the watchtowers of the east, wise eagle, sunrise, morning dew, I ask that you join me tonight in my Beltane celebrations, share with me as I bring forth the powers of love and lust, to fertilize the sprouting of dream and desire alike. Join me! Blessed be!” She finished her call, and an excited call of ‘blessed be’ murmured through the crowd, I joined in a little to late. Then the man spoke in a gravely tone.

“Guardians of the watchtowers of the south, mighty lion, powers of fire, join in my Beltane celebration. Share your passion and heat with me tonight, warm me and my desires as the seedlings of love manifest. Let my will grow and merge with your bright flame. Be with me now! Blessed be!” As he finished, the other woman spoke up, calling her quarter.

“Guardians of the watchtowers of the west, gently flowing rivers, joyous palfins and reedshires, join me here in my circle tonight as I celebrate the most fertile of holidays, Beltane. Flow through me as I move with the tide of my emotions slowly, with burgeoning passion as the tide moves in, swells, then crests, only to begin again. Be here now! Blessed be!” And then, finally, the younger man raised his arms and called his quarter.

“Guardians of the watchtowers of the north, loyal wolf, majestic mountains, be with me in my Beltane celebration. Share with me the mystery of, dark, damp places, your warm soft spaces, where joy and new life begin. Join me now! Blessed be!”

There was another murmuring of ‘blessed be’ and then complete silence, some heads bowed, others basking in the splendor of the fen. Finally, it was Sheena who spoke.

“Brothers, sisters, noble, commoner, servant and lord alike! Before we conclude our ritual and move on to the feast, I would take this opportunity to call claim! I welcome into my family, Lyra, my beloved sister who came to me unexpectedly, but has grown on my heart!” Sheena looked to me as she stepped to the center, near the lanterns, holding out her arms and beckoning me toward the center. I froze in place, terrified, but Jen gave me a light push, forcing me to step through the water, toward Sheena. The bottom of my gown was soaked and felt as if it weighed a million pounds, and my heart pounded in my chest as all eyes were on me. But then, as I stepped up to Sheena, we were alone in the darkness, standing in the a pool of radiance, surrounded by disembodied yellow lamplight. She looked down at me, a smile on her lips, her black hair free and flowing about her shoulders, her freckles a mural across her radiant, yet pale face. I trembled in her presence but at the same time, I felt an absolute warmth that radiated from my chest and filled me in a way that I had never before experienced.

“Lyra,” she said softly, but loud enough for the bystanders to hear. “Over these past months, we have had our differences, but you have surprised me in many ways, and I have come to love you as a sister. Here, tonight, in the light of fen and fern, in the sight of the Goddess, I lay claim to you as you lay claim to me. My oath to guide you and protect you is as strong as the northern winds and as everlasting as the sky. In the light of the Goddess, in the tradition of Klocby, we stand together as one.”

I was crying again. Goddess I cried a lot lately. Sheena touched my shoulder and then turned back to the crowd.

“I call an end to our Beltane ritual and declare a beginning to the feast! The circle is open, but unbroken. Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again!” This time, the crowd shouted it back loudly, the girls nearest us cried out in jubilation with warm smiles and laughter as they walked toward us, several of them hugging me. Sheena turned to me in the light and smiled. “Blessed be, little sister.”

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. Further down, I could see- the feast tables lined up, stacked high with hogsmeat, rukon legs and thighs, yellowed harnish bread, vegetables of every type, fruits, dipping sauces, and so many other things that I couldn’t even recognize. The long wooden tables were preceded by dozens of wooden dining tables placed on the courtyard specifically for the event, and I felt a twinge of guilt at the realization that the servants themselves had probably set them out while I’d been lounging around in the recovery room. Farther off, on a wooden stage, a group of men and women played woodwind instruments and one of them sang aloud; his voice was beautiful and melodic. The scene was surreal, and I was a part of it, though I was having trouble with the dancing part. Still, I sat there and witnessed what I perceived to be a scene of pure happiness, something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“Will you not dance?” Jen asked, sliding onto the bench next to me. Her white hair glistened in the lamplight, her shoulders shrugging fluidly in the white gown as she scooted closer to me. 

“I think my legs aren’t up to it,” I said apologetically. “I can walk as well, but dancing might put me over the edge.”

“You might be right,” She said. “You ought eat though, surely you’re famished. What did they have you eating in the recovery room?”

“You don’t want to know,” I shuddered as I recalled the thick nutrient solution I’d sucked through a metal tube for days on end. Now that my lips and face weren’t swollen, now would be a good time to eat something. 

“Are you nervous?” She grinned at me.

“Nervous about what?”

“About going up there by yourself?” She nodded toward the food tables. I suddenly realized that she was right. “Aye? Then I’ll go with you, come along!”

She hopped up, off the bench, her skirt brushing against mine and she did a half turn and took me by the hand. 

“How is it then?” She asked, looking me over. “The body, how does it feel?”

“It hurts,” I complained as we walked past the dancing crowd and toward the food tables. “I have to go back every month for an injection for a while, otherwise it might not hold, I guess. Well, some of it. They reformed my bone structure so I guess that’ll stay the same, but the crystals moved fat around and Caius wants to make sure it all stays where it’s supposed to.”

“So then it feels fine?”

“Other than the pain,” I acknowledged the slight throb in my right hip, as we approached the food tables. Upon reaching the towering piles of food I realized exactly how hungry I was; it hadn’t even occurred to me before now. 

“Oh Goddess,” I said as my stomach growled. “Those mashed potatoes!”

“Potatoes? What are those?” Jen looked at me quizzically. I pointed and she followed my finger to a bowl of white mash speckled with bits of skin. Jen cocked her head at me. “You mean the husproot?” 

“Oh,” I said, realizing that it had a different name. Potato. That was a word from a past that was still blurred. I had a vague idea of what had happened to me in that place: the place before the Stormveil, Liminality, but recalling it was going to be a chore, if I even wanted to. “Sorry, it’s just been…”

“Aye, you’ve had a time of it haven’t you?” She handed me a plate and we walked down the table, piling high with meat, vegetables, bread, and pastas. “I reckon to say downright traumatizing. What with the surgery, and then Sheena surprising you like that in front of everyone?”

“That’s…true,” I laughed softly. “I didn’t know there was a party today!”

“Party?” Jen scrunched up her face as we made our way to one of the tables. I dug my bare toes into the grass and basked in the warm breeze that washed over the courtyard. “Lyra, this is the Beltane festival. How is it that you’ll call it a party? Tis a simple barbecue to you?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s important, I’m just…I’m overwhelmed by all of this. The whole…”

“As you ought be, or you’d not be a normal person,” Jen agreed before shoving a piece of bread into her mouth and chewing profusely. 

“She seems happy with him,” I indicated Sheena who was still dancing happily with Elric; Kayla stood nearby with a wide grin on her face, bursting into laughter as she clapped her hands. 

“Aye,” Jen agreed. “You might have a brother in law on your hands, assuming you approve.”

I laughed. “Jen, I don’t think anyone’s taking my opinion into account.”

“Beg to differ, but they do,” Jen took a bite of meat and then looked at me over a cup of juice. “You are the younger sister. Traditionally, you have to approve as well.”

“You have that all wrong,” I told her, taking a gulp of my own juice and then chewing on one of the Rukon drumsticks. “Sheena tells me what to do.”

“Not in terms of courtship,” She corrected me. “‘Tis a good time to be a bratty little sister.”

“Aye, she’s good at that,” Sheena took a seat next to me and ruffled my hair; I squealed and tried to duck out of the way, nearly spilling my juice and prompting a laugh from Jen and Kayla, who also joined us at the table. “But not to worry, ‘tis nowhere near courtship at the moment.”

“My eyes tell different,” Jen smirked.

“Then your eyes tell treachery so well as you speak it.”

“Defensive, she is,” Kayla grabbed her fork and begun to pick at the plate she’d brought with her while Sheena took my plate with two fingers and slid it between us. 

“Did you pour enough gravy on that husproot?” Sheena indicated the pile of what I’d thought were potatoes. I had indeed piled a fair amount of the red gravy on them. Sheena snatched a rukon drumstick and dipped it in the gravy before taking a very delicate, very refined bite. She swallowed before she spoke again. “You coud drown in that, and it’s touching the becung sauce. Savory and sweet can be grand partners sister, but you’re bordering on heresy.”

“Or she could be a burgeoning culinary genius,” Jen suggested.

“It’s essentially a war crime,” Kayla spoke muffled beneath the burden of a stuffed mouth and pointed to my piled plate. Sheena chuckled and turned to me.

“I would have a word with you, little sister,” Sheena had begun to stand before even finishing her sentence and it was expected that I would follow. I fell in step beside her as we walked further away from the table and onto the sidewalk running parallel to the courtyard. She motioned for me to stop at one of the many washing stations that had been set up near the outer edge of the the courtyard and pointed for me to put my hand in the trough. “You’ve grease all over your hands,” she said in exasperation as she took a rag from a nearby stack and scrubbed my hands for me. I wince and tried to pull back as she intensified the scrubbing and the cloth began to burn my hand. She gripped my wrist and pulled me back to the trough in what had to be a practiced motion.

“Present,” She said to me. I immediately held my hands out flat, palms down, fingers spread. She inspected each finger, then turned my hands over to look at the palms. “We’ll discuss this at a later time. Come now.”

I walked along side her, hands folded in front of me, as was the custom. We moved wordlessly until we reached a hedge garden and turned a corner. 

“My dear sister, I owe you an apology,” She said, taking me completely off guard. So off guard in fact that I stopped walking and let her move ahead as I stayed there in shock. She stopped a few feet away and turned. “Lyra, yesterday, and the day before that were…important days for you, to say the least. The culmination a hard-fought victory; I would dare say that I ruined it in many ways, mostly due to my own selfishness.”

“Elder sister I-” Before I could finish, she raised her hand and I immediately fell into silence. My obedience to her was absolute and while that should have scared me, it somehow made me feel more comfortable. 

“I was upset, Lyra, when you were so eager to find a way to return to your world, wherever that may be. You and I have formed a bond here and my thought was that you were eager to abandon it the moment you discovered that was an option. However, I realize that if I had become trapped on your world, and I had suddenly found that there was a remote possibility of escape, I might have reacted in the same way. You see, Lyra, your reaction was reasonable, mine was not, and I am sorry. You are not obligated to accept my apology but as the elder sister it is my job to recognize when I am wrong and to grow from it, just as you.”

“I do accept your apology,” I told her. “Though it’s not necessary. I should have thought before I spoke.”

“If that is the way you see it,” She said, resigned. “though I am positively dissapointed in myself. Now, on to the other matter.”

“Other…matter?” 

She motioned for me to continue walking; we turned another corner and emerged into the center of the maze, amidst a circular set of concrete benches which surrounded a tall and flowing fountain. Sheena stepped up to the glistening water and looked at the Goddess statue dead center. Finally, she turned to me and produced a piece of folded paper, which she held out to me. I took it, hesitantly, and opened it up. My own words looked back at me - the words I’d written to her after my outburst in the dorm; the words that she couldn’t read.

“Keniel, as it turns out, is an adequate translator. He was able to provide me the full text in the common script.”

I looked up at her, eyes wide; had she read it? Truth be told, I’d breathed a sigh of relief when I’d discovered that she couldn’t read it. But she had? I gulped, my jaw dropped a little and my form weakened, my back slumped. The shame I felt had no equal, but suddenly I felt her hand on my cheek and I was greeted with a soft smile when I looked up to meet her eyes.

“Lyra,” She said as she stroked the side of my head and then laid her hand on my shoulder. “As your Elder Sister my job is to instruct you and to keep you safe, but it is also to help you understand the truth and the very idea that you are responsible for all the wrongs in the world is not the truth. No, Lyra it is not always you. You are not always the one at fault. You need instruction, that cannot be denied, but you are an amazing and promising young lady. Now, furthermore, a young lady should know her mother, which is why you will be meeting with her the week after next, on your weekend off.”

“I thought she hated me,” I frowned. “I don’t und-”

“Lyra!” Sheena glared and tightened her grip on my shoulder. “Do not speak of your mother in that manner, she does not hate you.”

“Yes Elder Sister, I apolgize.”

“Your mother has shown you respect, and you will show her respect, am I understood?”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

“In the time since our meeting at the Rossie estate, mother has endeavored to learn more about you and she has been impressed with what she has learned. My reports, along with discussions the High Lady have convinced her to give you another chance and you will attend the meeting.” 

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I replied; there was no other response expected or required of me.

“The High Lady would like to speak with you, go to her office now and then return to the celebration.”

“The High Lady?” I squeaked. “But- yes Elder Sister.”

Sheena nodded to me and gestured in the direction of the palace. Soon she was far behind me and I walked along up the path, passing out of the hedge maze and moving through the side-door that led to the vice. This entrance was a bit different as it led to a brass spiral staircase which ascended from the bottom floor all the way to the third with no exit to the second; there wasn’t much logic in the design, but it was a quick way to the connecting corridor that would lead out of the Vice and to the palace proper. I sped quickly down a curved hallway lined with slatted windows which overlooked the Vice Auditorium three stories below; it was devoid of people of course, but still an amazing sight. As I turned the corner and emerged into the Triangle, I let out a horrified yelp as I bumped right into Sage. She didn’t react in quite the same way; she rather just gave me a hard stare and then rushed past me as realization came over her face. I looked different, but somehow she could still tell; maybe it was my eyes. I turned and opened my mouth to call out after her with absolutely no idea why, but my voice caught in my throat as she disappeared around the corner. 

The rest of the walk was uneventful and I stood in front of the High Lady in a brief curtsey and greeting which she immediately dismissed.

“Sit, please,” She waved me over to her desk and I carefully took my seat in one of the cushy guest chairs, straightening my gown before I did. I placed my hands on my lap and looked to her expectantly. The atmosphere was far different in this room at night; the space was still well lit, but in the picture window behind her I could see the moon, perfectly framed and overlooking the city of Auglire. Her office always amazed me, what would it be like to have a view like that? I couldn’t remember. “Well, Lyra, I am, for all intents and purposes speaking to a different person today, aren’t I?”

“Yes, High Lady,” I said as respectfully as possible. “I apologize for-”

“For nothing,” She waved her and and shook her head. “Lyra, it took a considerable amount of convincing on Balthasar’s part of me to truly believe that you are not Micah Lavoric in any way, shape or form, other than the obvious physicality. He showed us irrefutable evidence, and then we waited to see who would win. Lyra or Micah. So, now that I have Lyra Rossi sitting in front of me, truly, I will dismiss you from service.”

“Wait,” I frowned, and then I felt my stomach drop as I broke into a full on panic. “High Lady, I don’t have anywhere else to go! Please!”

“Calm down, Lyra. You’ll still reside in the servant’s quarters and you’ll still be paid your wage, but instead of working your fingers to the bone, you’ll continue your lessons with Keniel, you will make progress with your voice training, and most importantly, you will learn. There is no reason that you cannot be educated to at least the level of your sister.”

“But all the other girls-”

“The other girls?” The High Lady laughed. “First of all, Lyra, they are older than you, most are above the age of majority. Being in service, especially on this campus requires a fair amount of education. This is not Axock or Slose where young men and women are dragged from the streets and placed in steel collars, never to see their families again and beaten when they cannot perform. No, Lyra, you are no longer being punished; if you wish to be in service, especially to this palace, earn it.”

“So…so you’re saying then…” I stammered, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“I’m saying you’re fired, Lyra. Go be a child, Goddess knows I wish I could.”

“Yes…High Lady,” I replied, feeling a bit confused and a bit empty. What had just happened? What was I supposed to do? Thoughts and feelings failed to manifest as I walked away from her office and through the enormous parlor where the High Lady’s receptionist normally sat. It was dark out here; a few lights shone, but the shadows in between them were immense and there was something unsettling about it. My eyes scanned the room, looking across the five casement windows that overlooked the eastern edge of the palace and the Redding quadrant which supplemented the educational wing. It was completely dead, not a sound to be heard. A space in between. A liminal space.

Yes, that was it. The Liminality. A liminal space. Neither here, nor there. An all too familiar twisting feeling in the pit of my stomach returned as I felt a harsh wind against my face, and then, I was somewhere else. The remnants of a memory from times long past came to the forefront of my consciousness and made themselves known. I was no longer standing in the parlor outside the High Lady’s office, I was no longer in Klocby. The Liminality? No. Something else. I was standing in a room, a small one with a pink carpeted floor, cheaply made wooden walls, a filthy window allowed the daylight shine on an absolute stye of a room. Clothes were strewn everywhere, a ‘Steam Powered Giraffe’ poster hung haphazardly on the wall, and a small speaker blared ‘Malfunction’ from the top of a white stained desk next to an old Acer notebook. I breathed heavily, the familiar sights filling my mind while simultaneously invoking a sense of loss. And then the memory played out. 

Springfield Ohio - July 16 2012

My floor creaked. It always creaked on the way out; there was that weak spot by the door, guess I’d walked on it too much. Figured one day I’d step on it and fall straight through to the crawlspace. I stepped into the hall, tugging at the waist of my jeans and stepped on a section of soggy carpet. I recoiled and lifted my stocking foot up; urine.

“Mom!” I shouted, holding up my wet foot and hopping as I tried unsuccessfully to remove the sock. I succeeded only in falling against the wall, sending a resounding thud through the trailer. “Mom Joey pissed on the floor again! Right outside my room! MOM!”

“Would you settle yourself down, Lyra?” Mom peeked out from the kitchen cabinet. Her hair was an absolute mess, and she was wearing that blue striped apron again. She thought she was a chef. “So clean it up! There’s bottle of Resolve right thre in the cabinet.”

“Joey ain’t my rabbit, mom,” I sat down hard at the kitchen table, the chair rattled beneath me. “And you oughta get a carpet scrubber for us.”

“Then this ain’t your house, and we can’t afford a carpet scrubber,” Mom slammed a plate on the counter and dropped an egg and piece of toast onto it. “Now come get your breakfast, and take this to your brother.”

I looked to Luke who sat in his high chair, playing with some stupid toy, oblivious to everything that was going on. I huffed. 

“Mom he’s like one, it’s time he started pulling his weight around here. Make him vacuum something.”

“He barely has opposable thumbs,” She lectured me; I walked to the counter and grabbed the small plastic plate and dropped it onto the tray after moving the toy.

“Here you go, you little shit,” I smirked at him as he cried and reached for the toy. I handed it back and walked around the counter, toward the refrigerator. “You gonna make me eggs too?”

“It’s time you started pulling your own weight around here,” My mother replied. “Make your own eggs.”

“This is child abuse!” I protested, slamming the refrigerator doors shut. The cabinet next to the fridge shook, pans rattled around inside.

“Oh good,” Mom said. “Report me, maybe they’ll take you away and I can get some sleep for once.”

“Oh ha ha ha mom, you’re hilarious.”

“I know,” She smiled. “I should put on a comedy act.”

“Good,” I said. “you can sell it out to AARP members.”

“What are you planning to do today?” She asked me. “it’s Saturday.”

“Yeah? I didn’t know,” I snorted. “Well you know, I’m gonna go down to the park, do some hardcore drugs, hide a body, maybe swim naked. Teenage stuff.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Mom rolled her eyes. “There’s no lake in the park. Nearest place to swim is the John Brown Reservoir. Don’t swim there, remember that kid, died in 2006.”

“He was 21, and no one cares,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not gonna lose a fight to a buoy.” 

“That’s what he thought too. There’s five bucks on the other counter, take it down to the store and get some cleaning stuff so we can do the kitchen later.”

“Okay, but it’s all gonna be lemon,” I said, snatching the five from the counter and sliding it into my pocket. 

“You and your lemon.”

“It’s good for the drains, you said so yourself, and I like the way it smells.”

On the way out, I passed Joey near the front door, he thumped his back foot against the floor as I walked outside into the blazing summer heat. 

I held my hand up to my forehead to block the sun and cracked a grin at the sight of construction equipment on the street. The entirety of the road had been torn up, something about replacing a water main; I could see long black, mud-covered pipes sitting on the sidewalk and a yellow backhoe, motor idling as a pudgy guy in a hardhat sat eating a burrito at the controls.

“Teddy!” I shouted gleefully as I walked to the end of my driveway, toward the mounting pile of dirty and debris that had blocked my mom’s Focus in for the last two weeks. “What the hell you guys doin? Tear it up, put it in, tear it up again, aintcha gonna make up your mind?”

Teddy nodded to me and then held up his burrito. “Burrito!”

“Aww come on Teddy, it’s nine in the morning!”

“Breakfast burrito!” He shouted over the hum of the idling motor.

“Yeah!” I pointed both fingers at him and slid into a side shuffle down the cracked sidewalk. “Got ya a little egg, some bacon, little bit of saussagggge, why don’t you try fixing the road instead, asshole?”

Teddy raised his free hand and flipped me the bird; I laughed and turned, walking down the sidewalk past two other workers, one leaning idly on a jackhammer while the other one stared at a clipboard.

“Look, Mark,” The first man said. “All I’m saying is Idocracy is just the inverse of Gattaca!”

“You’re nuts man,” The second man, apparently named Mark said as I walked out of earshot, toward the neighbor’s house. I snatched the red bike from the front lawn knowing Tommy wouldn’t miss it and pedaled toward the front of the park. The blue ‘Springfield Meadows arch towered overhead as I pedaled toward Troy Road. 

I took a left at the intersection and rode toward Crown Market. It was a small hole in the wall gas station that had been bought out by Marathon a few years ago, but it had the stuff I needed, and if I wanted to go anywhere else I would have to ride my bike down Upper Valley and that wasn’t happening until later. 

Dropping the bike against the ice box, I strolled into the shop, bell ringing as I walked past the counter. Lenny was there, as usual. He’d picked this as his summer job. Sucker. 

The smell of bagged bread and floor cleaner assaulted my nostrils and I scrunched my face. It wasn’t lemon. Everyone knew lemon was the best scent for cleaner. With that in mind I walked to the last shelf and grabbed a bottle of lemon Pledge.

“Hey Lenny!” I exclaimed as I slammed the plastic spray bottle onto the counter. “This and…a pack of menthols.”

“I can’t sell you cigarettes, Lyra,” Lenny rolled his eyes at me and began to ring up the bottle of Lemon Pledge.

“Well why the hell not?”

“Are you eighteen?”

“In like three years, you writing a book or something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He narrowed his eyes at me. “You should get a picture of me to put on the cover. Add it to your collection.”

“Buy the candy cigarettes,” he suggested. “You aren’t going to know the difference.”

“Oh I will too,” I insisted. “They don’t smoke the same.”

“I think they don’t smoke at all, but you’ve never had a cigarette have you?”

“I’ve watched people smoke them.”

“Oh, yes,” He nodded. “That’s absolutely the same.”

“Come on Lenny, sell her the cigarettes,” A new voice said, I turned around and grinned, it was Kelly. She walked to the counter, dressed in her form fitting pink t-shirt, long brown hair flowing about her shoulders, pink lip gloss and and a black choker around her neck. She leaned against the counter and gave him the most seductive look she could possibly muster, I did my best not to burst out laughing as Lenny’s face turned at least three shades of red.

“I’m not selling either of you cigarettes,” He sputtered. “Get out of here or I’ll…I swear I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” I laughed. “Fine just give me the cleaner. Oh! And these!”

 I reached beneath the counter, toward the impulse rack and slammed a box of Dots down by the register. Lenny rolled his eyes at me and rung up the box and the pledge. I paid him and walked out with Kelly in tow.

“We oughta let him have a break, one of these times,” Kelly laughed as I hung the plastic bag on the handlebars of the bike. 

“Oh he’ll break alright,” I agreed.

“Whatever,” She said, giving her hair a flick. “Come on, I’ve got something way better anyway. Let’s head into town.”

Heading ‘into town’ was a lot easier said than done; we couldn’t continue down Troy road because of the steep incline down Upper Valley Pike, so we had to bike all the way around, stopping back at my house to drop the lemon pledge off. We biked to the St. Paris connector and over to Bechtle Avenue. It took about two hours, we stopped a few times, once by the side of the road to take a breather, and another time in a small alcove of trees to take a pull on our water bottles. It seemed like forever, but eventaully we pulled onto Bechtle, bike tires whining with each rotation. What used to be an empty road was now a thriving commercial district that had essentially taken the place of the Upper Valley Mall. We pedaled past Gamestop, the Golden Dragon, and the Wal-Mart until we reached the latter half of Upper Valley Pike. Pedaling through Bechtle and past Kroger, we finally found ourselves by the Putt Putt course where Lenny’s cousin worked.

“I like Dale a lot better,” I told Kelly as we leaned our bikes against the building. The sound of putters clinking against golf balls, kids shouting, and that stupid windmill turning all followed us as we walked up the path and into the front of the shop. Inside was a perfect time capsule preserved since the 90’s. A white room with a counter; a rack of old putters behind, hanging on the wall. To my left there was an ancient Ms. Pac Man arcade cabinet, sputting off beeps and boops from a bygone era. I’d played it before, my dad had brought me here, back when he was still alive. 

Dale was older than Lenny, like a lot older. I think he was like 25 or something and a high school dropout. Most kids worked here for a summer and quit, Dale was on his way to becoming the manager. Whatever that was worth. He was tall and lanky with long greasy hair, dressed in that stupid black ‘Golf and Games’ polo shirt. I felt kind of sorry for him; he was standing there dealing with what I guessed was a youth group, bunch of kids and their pastor taking them on a youth group outing or whatever. 

“Oh this is lame!” Kelly exclaimed, causing the nine church kids to turn and look at her.

“Leave them alone,” I rolled my eyes. “They’re playing putt putt for god or whatever.”

“Excuse me!” A blonde girl in an extremely modest black button up blouse and red skirt said, stepping toward me. “If you don’t have anything nice to say-”

“I don’t have anything nice to say to you,” I laughed. “Ain’t gonna stop me from talking though!”

The girl scowled and took another step toward me, but the older man, who I presumed to be their pastor stepped in.

“Hey now,” He warned her. “Remember, ‘What Would Jesus Do?’”

“Jesus would trash a temple,” I told the pastor, he shot me a side eye and then looked back to the girl. 

“Ashley, calm down, turn the other cheek, that’s what Jesus would do.”

“Difference between you and Jesus, is at least he got nailed,” I stuck my tongue out at the girl who looked at me and shrieked.

“How dare you?!” She demanded. “Jesus was a virgin!”

“That’s not what Mary Magdeline said,” Kelly goaded her. “Bet he’s got all kinds of bastard kids running around.”

“Yeah!” I added. “Have you seen the Da Vinci code? It’s based on a true story!”

“Okay, okay,” The pastor said. “Easy, just take it easy.”

“Oh and what about you?” Kelly asked the youth pastor. “You gonna take all the kiddies back to your church, put on a beanie cap and play some guitar, tell them you don’t need Twitter because you’ve got the Bible?”

“Okay look, that bit works!” The youth pastor glared.

“Yeah, on them,” I laughed.

“Hey!” Dale shouted from behind the counter. “Knock it off you two.”

The youth group left, the pastor shot me an angry look just as the door closed behind them. 

“Making friends?” Dale asked, leaning against the counter.

“Here to buy. Your cousin is lame,” Kelly reached into her pocket and flicked a twenty dollar bill toward Dale. He slid it from the counter and put it in his pocket.

“You don’t need to tell me,” He rolled his eyes. “But at least he doesn’t come to my work making trouble.”

“Whatever, just give it,” Kelly held her hand out, wiggling her fingers. Dale smacked a plastic baggie into her hand and we were on our way.

“Wonder if he sells anything else,” Kelly said aloud as we walked back toward the front of the building. 

“I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s just find a spot and-”

“Hey!” The blonde girl was stomping toward us, through the green of the course, putter in hand. I flinched, preparing to say something, but the last thing I saw was the head of the club rushing toward my face. 

Darkness enveloped me and then it was replaced by a rolling green landscape stretching into the horizon and ending in a steep mountain range. I gasped and dropped down onto the grass, my butt slamming into the ground as a gentle breeze washed over me. Behind, I could hear the crash of waves and the scent of salt air invaded my nostrils.

“Wh- where am I?” I gasped, looking from left to right. This wasn’t Ohio, this wasn’t even Kansas. “Did I smoke already?”

Yeah, that was the explanation, the weed had been laced and I was having the best trip ever. Or the worst, depending. this place was kind of boring. I took another deep breath, closed my eyes, and then, silence.

“So who did you piss off?” My mother’s voice floated down to me. I opened my eyes and immediately squeezed them shut; the beeping of hospital equipment filled my ears; the gash on my head immediately began to throb. 

“Uh…god people,” I muttered. “Youth group I think.”

“That’ll get you every time,” Mom said, the sarcasm and mild disappointment evident in her tone. “They’re prolly just gonna patch you up and send you on your way.”

I opened my eyes and stretched, squeezing my eyes shut in pain. 

“What, no overnight stay?”

“Do you think our insurance will pay for that?” As she spoke, I heard the piercing shriek of Luke’s scream as he pushed at mom, trying to wiggle his way out of her arms.

“Aw mom, did you have to bring him?” I asked, sitting up in the hospital bed. “This is my thing, you know? Getting pounded, ending up in the hospital.”

“I can’t leave him at home, Lyra. When are you going to grow up? You’re almost sixteen.”

“Soon as you get us some internet at home, so I can watch YouTube videos about growing up. I’m tired of stealing the neighbor’s wifi.”

“About that, Lyra,” Mom shifted Luke to her other arm, he screamed again and she handed him a bottle, which he promptly tossed onto the floor. It clattered against the linoleum and rolled toward the door. “I’m moving Jerald in.”

“No you ain’t either!” I sat up suddenly and glared at her in spite of the pain. “I told you I don’t like him!”

“You want internet or not? I can’t pay all the bills by myself, Lyra!”

“All he does is drink and yell at me! We’re fine by ourselves, mom! He’s not moving in!”

“He is,” She said firmly. “Tomorrow. He’ll pay half the rent, we’ll have money for food and internet, it’s gotta be done, Lyra.”

“No it doesn’t!” I exclaimed, glaring at her. “I’ll get a job! I’ll pay half the rent!”

“Lyra there’s nowhere around here that’s gonna hire a fifteen year old, Crown’s not hiring, Upper Valley Mall’s gone to shit.”

“What about Bechtle Avenue?” I suggested. “I can work at that one restaurant!”

“Lyra,” Mom said firmly.

“Linda,” I stared at her obstinately, she narrowed her eyes as I used her first name.

“We need money now. There’s an eviction notice on our door, pantry’s almost empty. Even if you could get a job, you think you could dig us out of debt tomorrow? It’s done, he’s moving in.”

“This is so unfair,” I pouted, slamming my head back into the pillow and wincing as pain shot through my skull again. Luke shrieked again. “Oh would you shut him up?”

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. Some lay lifeless, staring up at the crimson sky with eyes that would never see again, and some still writhed, their limbs twitching as they cried out weakly for assistance that could never help them. Lord Radon took a step, inadvertently bringing his boot down on an arm long severed by a circular blade. As he move onward toward a wall of smoke in front of him, he heard that familiar whine and tick paired with the sound of metallic footfalls clomping toward him through the wall of darkness. He unsheathed his sword and advanced a step, falling into a familiar stance that allowed him to easily launch an attack at the automaton that surged through. Glowing eyes and an expressionless face greeted him, absent a battle cry that should have accompanied this type of charge. His first attack was a wide swing that struck the machine with the flat of his blade, and the second was the barrel of his pistol pressed against the thing’s face, a load roar as it discharged and the bullet tore through it’s lifeless face, sending the machine to the ground, splashing in the mud as it gyrated and eventually ceased moving.

Radon turned and beheld the city of Estait, walls broken, buildings ablaze, smoke stretching upward and reaching toward the heavens. All around him, the sounds of metal clashing against metal, the discharge of firearms, the scent of gunpowder and burning flesh filling his nostrils and assaulting his ears. To his right he heard it again, the clomp of metallic feet pounding and rushing through the smoke; their dark forms burst through the wall of hellish black, charging at him, arm-mounted guns at the ready. Muscles burning and exhaustion beginning to overtake him, he stood, sword at the ready, pistol primed as he gritted his teeth, relishing in the slow drip of blood that excreted from his torn scalp. The rush of battle still excited him, and it had been far too long since he’d tasted of it.

How many of them were there? With the majority of Lady Meighan’s deployed soldiers dead or dying in the field, there would be no one left to keep them from overtaking . The battle was lost, at least from his own perspective. Then again, he couldn’t see much through the smoke. Perhaps Meighan’s troops were still out there holding their own in this cesspool of smoke and death. Goddess; if only he’d brought the detachment from Oniodale with him! He cursed under his breath as the clockwork abominations reached him, bashing the first one atop the head with the hilt of his sword. It crumbled, but three more approached from his left and right. A shot from his sidearm disabled one, but the other…

The machine swiped at him with a powered circular blade; he jerked back, too late as the thing’s teeth shredded his uniform and tore into his arm, blood spewing into the air as he cried out and slammed into the ground. The machine was joined by four others, each one armed to the teeth with whirring blades and attached firearms that could take down even the toughest of machines, let alone people. He tried to regain his feet but succeeded only in pushing himself back a few feet until he collided with the torso of a fallen soldier, the man’s face was bashed in, skull open for the world to see. 

The machines charged at him with measured precision; there was no hesitation, no emotion. They had been given commands, and they would follow. The ticking of their inner workings blared through their thick metal chassis, the clank and whine of grinding gears dominated the last moments of twilight and signaled the end of Lord Radon’s life, had General Balthasar Hammond not appeared at the last second. The aged man tore through a wall of smoke, grabbing the nearest automaton with an inhuman strength lifting it over his head and hurling it toward the group that had been converging at Lord Radon. The clockwork abominations fell to the ground, splashing in the mud, a flash of powder as one discharged a firearm into the ground. The misfired round tore through the barrel of the weapon, blowing the machine’s arm to smitherines. Radon felt the heat against his face. Balthasar dispatched the other two, one by grabbing the top of its head and using his free hand to bash it in the face; the other, he simply dismembered and kicked aside. The old man offered Radon a hand, pulling him to his feet. 

“That was sloppy, Jared,” Balthasar chided, wiping his hands and then picking up Radon’s sword to toss it to him. Radon caught the hilt and swiped the air a few times. 

“Lucky you were here then,” Radon said. “That’s some gift you have.”

“A leftover from my time in Liminality,” Balthasar said. “takes a lot out of me.”

“Can Lyra do that?”

“Lord Radon, you have a worrisome obsession with that girl,” Balthasar lectured. “Ought I be worried?”

“Probably,” Radon admitted. “but I doubt someone like me would be appealing for her.”

“Not an inaccurate conclusion!” Balthasar said as he crouched down, next to one of the fallen automatons, opening the chest compartment. “You are positively ugly, Lord Radon.”

“Now that is inaccurate,” Radon argued. “I’m the most handsome man I know. I have a very reputable source: myself.”

“Aye, if you consider a horses’s ass to be handsome,” Balthasar grunted and reached his hand into the machine, his hand covered with hydraulic fluid as he came out holding what appeared to be a cog. “You see this? Not a single part in these things has a maker’s stamp but these cogs? I’d know the design anywhere. The Minxwork Clock Company, comes right off their assembly line.”

“Balthasar,” Radon sighed. “Your assessment isn’t helpful. Anyone with half a brain would know that these are Pontifer Jellic’s invention and he reports directly to Lord Lavoric.”

“Aye,” Balthasar nodded, standing and tossing the gear to Radon who caught it and shot Balthasar a disdainful look. “What we need is proof, lad. If we’re to take our case to the Lord Regent.”

“The Lord Regent has pulled out of the summit, again. Scheduling issues,” Radon rolled his eyes. “Lavoric needs a formal declaration of war to legally attack other provinces, yet he seems loathe to do so.”

“Because he could lose the support of the crown.”

“Aye, indeed, and so he has his bitch boy, Pontifer build him clockwork armies to attack cities in secret!”

The two walked side by side through the battlefield, Radon using the flat of his blade to disable a few automatons that charged through the smoke. Overall, there seemed to be few of the things left, just stragglers, but they’d done a number on Lady Meighan’s troops. Radon lamented the fact that he was even here having to participate in this madness; he’d only come here to check on the situation in the dead zone between Graorhial and Axock. It was completely unreasonable to expect a full on attack and yet it had happened. Eventually, they came across a company of soldiers in tattered uniforms, led by a disgruntled captain with his cap slightly askew.

“Lord Radon!” The captain said, giving a salute which Radon returned.

“Where are the rest of your men, Captain?” Radon surveyed the eight ragtag soldiers standing amongst the fallen men as gunfire and screams rang out behind them, somewhere on the other side of the thick smoke.

“Dead or deserted, my Lord,” the captain said. “Sir, we…we dealt a blow to the enemy, but if they come at us like that again…”

The captain didn’t need to finish the sentence; Lord Radon looked toward the towering pillars of smoke and the soft orange glow of fire where the automatons had committed their own special brand of violence. Estait was a smaller city of about twenty thousand, and placed far too close to the dead zone where military troops were supposed to refrain from assembly, but that hadn’t stopped Axock. Estait had a few wall mounted cannons, but nothing that could have staved off a full on assault. Though, if Lord Radon were being perfectly honest, this hadn’t even been that. There had been no airships, no human troops, no armored vehicles; just these damnable automatons and their arm-mounted guns. 

“They were too fast,” Balthasar said, reading Radon’s mind. “You saw them, up on the wall.”

“I did,” Lord Radon nodded. “They climbed and they were up top before anyone noticed. Never seen a clockwork man move that fast.”

“Aye, neither have I,” Balthasar admitted. “that Pontifer, he’s truly a madman.”

“As an experienced commander, what would you suggest?” Radon looked to Balthasar, whose expression grew stony. 

“In the interest of realism,” Balthasar said. “This would never work against Auglire; perhaps the outlying cities, but Auglire is too well fortified, as is Oniodale. If Lord Lavoric were to commit human troops and armor to the cause, we could make a case to the Lord Regent and call upon our allies. As it is, who is truly bound to believe that Lavoric suddenly has automatons that can climb walls and move with near-human reflexes?”

“Then, his plan?” Radon looked to Balthasar in confusion.

“If he can find a way to move his automatons into Klocby’s outlying territories, he would immediately attack our outlying farms and production facilities. Cut off food to the city and he has us in the palm of his hand.”

“But assuming he does even that,” Radon said. “We could attack him at the border, with our combined alliances, we would be able to crush him so long as we acted fast. Auglire has plenty of food stores, they could hold out for two years, even three. Oniodale is similarly equipped. No, he has to believe he has the advantage here, and the ultimate question is why?”

“Some men desire power above all else,” Balthasar shrugged. “As for me, I enjoy fishing, and hunting. Lyra and I took down a bear once, thirty or more years ago, it was one of the best moments of my life.”

“Lyra taking down a bear?” Lord Radon laughed. “Sometimes I forget that she has that male body, have you seen what she looks like now?”

“Jared,” Balthasar said firmly. “During our time in Liminality, Lyra did not have a male body. Now, as for the reason, for Lord Lavoric’s attacks? I have some idea, though I can’t imagine how the Mah’Kur figured it out.”

“What do the Mah’Kur have to do with this?” Radon demanded.

“Walk with me, my Lord, I have a tale to tell you.”

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!”

“Let me understand this,” Miah pushed past me, carrying a tray of rukon breasts, nearly knocking me over on her way to the brick oven on the far side of the kitchen. “you have been released from service, given free room and board, and permission to use the campus amenities as you see fit, and you are bored?”

“There is nothing for me to do,” I pouted. “Just let me chop the vegetables!”

“That bronze token you were given,” Sophia piped up from the other side of the kitchen, her voice barely audible over the sound of running water and the banging of the auxiliary oven as it crafted some culinary confection. “Why haven’t you used it?”

“I don’t even know what it is,” I reached into my dress pocket and pulled out the octagonal token; two inches in diameter, it had the emblem of Klocby on one side and the seal of Jenwise on the other. I turned it over in my hands, feeling the beveled edge.

“A general pass,” Marcella said to me. “Sheena has one, Kayla has one. Tis so you can use all of the campus amenities free of charge. Go eat something, see a show, visit the carnival, ‘tis here for another week. Above all, stop bothering me!”

The other girls giggled, some of them outright laughed. I shied away, my face nearly crimson red as I passed through the swinging door and into a small storage room containing pots and pants along with various kitchen instruments. I left that room and emerged into a hallway bustling with people. This particular kitchen was far away from the palace, perhaps a mile to the east, and as a result, the atmosphere was far more casual. The closer one got to the palace proper, the more they would begin to experience the silent reverence and the guarded corridors. The Octagon itself was widely unguarded but if you were to move up the second or third passages, you would inevitably run into a blue-uniformed guard or two. These encounters would become more frequent the closer you became. Finally, if you were to reach one of the entrances to the palace, you would be challenged, assuming you weren’t dressed in servant gray or black. Even then you could be stopped and asked to give a pass phrase which changed on a daily basis. It occured to me that I didn’t know the pass phrase at the moment and that was probably by design - it was unlikely that the High Lady wanted to see me. I took a right, walking aimlessly along the side of the corridor, feeling completely out of place amongst the nobles and commoners that made their way past me, staying the course or crossing down the branching corridors toward varied destinations. They were all very different types of people but the one thing they had in common was that they were slightly more important than the common people in Auglire either because they had business to conduct here, or they worked here. I was doing neither of these things. I had nowhere to go and nowhere to be, and it was the most frustrating feeling I’d ever experienced save for the High Lady and Balthasar keeping elements of my past concealed from me. Emitting an exasperated sigh, I pressed forward into what the servants called ‘The Glass’. They called it that because it was much like the atrium in the education wing; a glass dome, but instead of plant life, it was filled with benches and kiosks, one of which was a brass gondola with a backlit map, explaining the layout of the outlying passages and hubs. In the palace proper, one would never find something like this, given that it was designed to be obscenely confusing. I didn’t want to go anywhere, I wanted to be back where I belonged but they wouldn’t have me. Frustrated, I walked through the entrance to the glass and into a courtyard where cobblestone paths sprawled out before me in an almost nonsensical pattern, leading to different buildings and resting areas marked by wooden benches. Ahead of me I could see the central clock tower, positioned just outside of the Vice; gothic style, pointed steeple surrounded on all four sides by stone gargoyles in menacing positions. I passed by dozens of men and women in black suits and colorful dresses, each one holding a different and uninteresting conversation. They had somewhere to go. I didn’t. I was useless. The freedom that I’d yearned for had been replaced by the haunting realization that I couldn’t function unless someone was telling me what to do.

I wandered across the courtyard, barely dodging a portly man who was looking at his pocket watch, perhaps placing it in sync with the central tower. I dodged around him and pressed on toward a set of large double doors inset to a brown brick building to which was affixed a simple black plaque with ‘Vice Library’ in gold lettering. The door creaked as I passed through, emerging onto a white tile floor surrounded by eight towering pillars that reached up past the second and third floor mezzanines, supporting the ceiling high above. In the midst of them, a skylight, heavily latticed with a steel framework allowed natural light to stream down in sectioned squares, shadows passed over my body as I observed the massive rows of volume-laden shelves beyond the pillars. This, of course, was just the entrance; ahead of me was a stair, about twenty steps high and shaped in a half-oval that led to a large rectangular portal perhaps forty feet high. The words ‘Vice Central Library’ hung in hold above the door frame, and I immediately began my ascent past men and women, each looking more important than I.

The next room was not as grand as the entrance, but it was flanked on either side by spiral staircases and lifts that made an ascension to the second floor, which would connect to the mezzanine in the entryway. I had been inside this building just briefly but I’d never had time to explore. Now with nothing but time on my hands and the memories of a past life haunting me from the deepest recesses of my mind, I made the ascent up a spiral staircase and browsed the bookshelves. The library seemed to be separated into countless sections and sub-sections, from fiction, to non-fiction, para-fiction, trade, sciences, applied astrology, astrology, and dozes of other topics that I wouldn’t even be able to make sense of. I had no intention of borrowing any of the books, I really just needed something to do. So I browsed, walking through row after row, hoping to wander until I had exhausted the light and was able to return home.

During the first week, I’d spent the entire time in the new servant’s quarters, in the tiny wood-paneled room that Jen and I shared. I’d just sat there staring at the wall, wishing I could do something useful. Each time Jen had returned she’d looked more and more concerned. Eventually she’d gone to Sheena who had ordered me to do something other than stare at a wall all day.

My eyes traveled along the rows of books; words printed in gold or silver lettering on their spines. Some of them I could read immediately, others I had to sound out; it was disconcerting.

“Are you interested in the making of soap?” A feminine voice asked me. I jumped in surprise at the fact that someone was speaking to me and turned to her. It was a girl with a pale complexion, much like Jen, but with far softer features and painted red lips. Her hair was far darker than Jen’s, and hung about her shoulders, framing her face and accenting her red eyes. She was Zlitian, through and through; her light accent gave it away. Well, her complexion probably gave it away too.

“Is that…is that what it says?” I asked her nervously. She giggled and stepped toward me, I flinched a little as she reached past me and took the book from the shelf, holding it up with a grin.

“A noble profession for a woman, but not so much a hobby,” She smiled and flipped through the pages. I shuddred a little as she handed the book to me and I placed it back on the shelf.

“Truthfully,” I said. “I’m just…browsing. My sister she uh…works on the campus, I’m…well…she…”

“She wanted to get you out of her hair?” The girl suggested. I blushed, she laughed. “So then, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. She laughed.

“You…haven’t been in Auglire long, have you?” She guessed. “There is much I could show you. Come!”

Before I could object, she took my hand and practically pulled me away from the shelf. Out onto the mezzanine and down the spiral stairs, then toward the front entrance. It took a few minutes to reach it; we passed a row of wooden tables with green desk lamps attacked, and eventually walked down a long gray-ish carpet that led us to a set of double doors far larger than the ones I had entered in the first place. Then, we descended a wide set of concrete steps, landing on a cobblestone street absolutely brimming with people.

“Are…are we off the campus?” I asked her nervously.

“A little,” She shrugged. “We have to walk a little further to be really off of it.”

I lost my composure, at least inwardly. The sea of people passing around us, jostling, chattering, the vivid display of color and color, all of it pushed its way deep into my core and caused me to shudder, shake, and retreat within myself. I wanted to run, but the girl already had a hold of me and was guiding me through the crowd. She knew what she was doing, and it didn’t put my mind any more at ease. Fortunately I didn’t have time to worry as we ducked through alleys, crossed streets, and passed shouting vendors. The aroma of street food filled my nose and I felt my stomach rumble. How long had it been since I’d eaten?

As we passed a rolling cart, atop which a merchant had set up a colorful awning and background. He shouted about a miracle cure. A dog barked and ran between my feet, nearing knocking me to the ground. Finally, the girl pulled me to a nearby bench and we sat down. The crowd continued moving; I felt like a rock in the midst of an ever-moving stream.

“Are you alright?” She asked me. “You look…pale.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. I should have been used to large crowds but then it occurred to me rather suddenly that maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t spent a whole lot of time outdoors in either of my previous lives. My life as Micah was fuzzy at best, and my life as Lyra, even in Liminality was…well that was beyond fuzzy.

“Have you ever been off the campus?” She cocked her head at me. “Were you…born there?”

“Uh…kind of,” I said, still feeling panicked. “I mean…not really but I’ve been there for a time.”

In front of us, a four-wheeled cart rumbled across the cobblestones, parting the crowd and pushing more people in our direction. I winced.

“What’s your name?” She asked me, a little too quietly below the roar of the crowd.

“What?”

“Your name!” She said a little louder. “What is it that they call you?”

“I…” I started to speak but my voice was drowned out by the shouts of another man just in front of me. I cringed and then closed my mouth, feeling as if I’d been unceremoniously cut off. She looked at me, slightly concerned and then patted my hand, signaling that it was time to get off the bench. I followed her into a restaurant where we took a seat at one of the many tables, though the noise was still deafening as patrons all around us chattered about things that held little to no interest for me. She looked at me again, smiling still.

“My name is Calliope,” She told me. “And yours?”

“It’s…it’s Lyra,” I said quietly, suddenly realizing that I was too easily pulled into this situation. I recalled with some disdain how I had allowed Gabrielle to pull me away last time, even though she had done so at Sheena’s behest. Bottom line: I needed to be more assertive.

“Lyra, I like that,” She grinned and looked about, trying to wave down a waiter. They didn’t use servants past the campus, I guessed. The Rossi house by all rights should have had some but they’d opted not to, according to Sheena. She called the attention of a a girl in black who took an order for two coffees and disappeared.

“I…I don’t really have money,” I said pathetically. “I mean I- I don’t mean I’m poor, I just-”

“You’re rather adorable when you’re nervous,” She gave me a wide grin, and I returned it. “I rather like you. What is it that you do on the campus, then?”

“My…sister is the First Girl. I guess traditionally she’d be called the Housekeeper but they don’t really say that there.”

“The housekeeper?” Calliope gawked. “That’s…wow, and she is your sister?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I…yes, she’s my sister.”

“Aye, she’s very important then!” She spoke excitedly. “I ought look into service myself, seeing as my loan was denied.”

“Loan?” I asked curiously. “A loan for what?”

“Aye, well, as a seamstress I wished to open my own shop but see, the Duchess has raised the import tariffs to a point where it is simply untenable. She treats us well, much better than I hear from Axock, but sometimes I feel she’s a tad greedy, don’t you?”

“I…don’t really have an opinion on that,” I sputtered. “I don’t know a lot about politics.”

“You ought learn,” She half lectured me; the server returned and set the coffee on the table in front of us. “Politics shape our lives in all sorts of ways, you know.”

“I…really wouldn’t know,” I muttered quietly. “I try…to stay out…of it.”

“Ah, well, your choice,” She looked at me, perhaps slightly dissapointed. “Drink your coffee would you? You ought not let it get cold!”

So we didn’t let it get cold. We drank our coffee and I listened to her prattle on about dozens of different topics. I got a few words in but for the most part I just listened, and the most amazing thing happened: I started to like her. There was something about her, the way she spoke to me, the tone of her voice, the tone of her skin, all of it came together to create a picture of perfection and by the end of the visit I was completely mesmerized.

“Are you okay?” She said suddenly, snapping me out of my stupor.

“I’m sorry?” The sounds of the restaurant suddenly filled my ears as I fully remembered where we were. Nearby, a group of men chattered about the latest market prices, a group of children chased one another through the tables, bumping into a rather disgruntled server. Somewhere near the front of the store, the sounds of an automaton band played pipe and accordion. It took me a moment to refocus on Calliope; she rested her head on her open palms and shot me a curious look.

“I said, are you okay?” She laughed a little. “You seem as if you’re somewhere else, or, well, you did.”

“I…was just wondering,” I said, looking around nervously. “Are we…is…is this a date?”

“Would you like it to be such?” She asked, still grinning.

“Well I’m…not really past the age of majority-”

“Neither am I,” she said quickly. “no, I’m eighteen years. I think a date would be ideal between us, do you not?”

“Wait,” I frowned. “You’re not past the age of majority, but you wanted to get a loan? For your business?”

“That would be part of the reason they turned me down,” She sighed. “but the tariffs are a real concern. Even after I’m one and twenty I have no idea how I’ll manage it.”

“That’s…I don’t know what to say,” I wasn’t joking, I really didn’t know what to say. “So…a date?”

“Would you like to have another one?” She smiled at me coyly. I giggled a little, my cheeks flushed.

“I… think so,” I said; I honestly didn’t know what to feel here. The feelings I was experiencing in this very moment were unlike anything I’d ever been through. Something about the tone of her voice, her confidence, I just wanted to be near her. Fortunately, she agreed.

“Then meet me tomorrow,” She said. “in the Octagon.”

“I…will try,” I said shakily. “But my sister-”

“You are a younger sister then?” She said, suddenly excited. “I am as well! We have that in common then!”

“I…guess so,” I admitted. “But it can be…difficult to make plans, because-”

“Because she could snatch you away at any moment for some inspection, or perhaps a dull, drab event that you have no interest in! Yes, this is the way for little sisters, I’m afraid, but you know that, obviously.”

“No…so much,” I said hesitantly. “It’s…I was recently adopted. I wasn’t…born into it. I’m having trouble with it.”

“Wait then,” She furrowed her brow and then broke out in a grin. “You mean to say, that you were…simply adopted into a prestigious family as a younger sibling, a sister no less, with no idea what it entailed?”

I nodded. “Yes…that…that is what happened.”

“My goodness!” Her eyes sparkled as the realization came over here. “I have two older sisters and I am accustomed to the familial traditions but you…I cannot imagine what it must be like! But, you are so lucky!”

“I don’t feel lucky sometimes,” I admitted. “It’s…overwhelming, and sometimes I find myself angry with her. Honestly, this entire thing is…strange. If this were a story, for example, I would say that the author has mental problems and snaps at the drop of a hat, then blames everyone else for their problems even though they should really blame themselves for drinking excessively and holding in all of their emotions, only to release them when the slightest thing goes wrong.”

“What?” She looked at me incredulously. I shrugged.

“What?”

“Back to…the subject…I will…take a leap of faith here,” She pressed her lips together, studying me with her bright red eyes. “Your sister is Sheena Rossi.”

“How did you know?” I looked at her, genuinely surprised. “Do you know her?”

“I do not,” She admitted, then gave me a knowing smile. “but the Rossi family is known for philanthropy, so their youngest - well, second youngest daughter, being the First Girl in the palace would fit the bill.”

“I…” I tried to think of something to say but it was clear that I was out of my depth; this girl had me figured out and I’d just met her.

“You are very lucky,” She said. “From all I have heard tell of Sheena Rossi, she means the best for you.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it,” I mumbled, looking away, toward the window. A horse-drawn carriage passed by on the street, a group of children chased it, while behind it the crowd of people closed like an ocean righting itself .

“How long?”

“For what?” I looked to her in confusion.

“How long have you been her younger sibling?”

“A few…months, I think?” I shook my head. “It’s all running together, I’m positively exhausted.”

“You ought give it time,” She said sympathetically. “it can be difficult, for me even, but they really do mean the best. Now, I suppose you should be off home, before she takes notice of your leave.”

I nodded profusely, feeling practically unable to speak, and then I allowed her to direct me back to the library. From there, I easily found my way across the campus and toward the servant quarters. The central clock read 4 PM and Sheena would be expecting me in her office, as per usual. I passed into the servant’s quarters and ascended the stairs to the second level. The renovations had been completed, and now rather than one large room for all the servants to sleep, it had been divided into three floors with thirty rooms on each. Not all of them were occupied, just as many of the beds had been unoccupied before the renovation. I walked down a sleek wood-paneled hallway adorned on each side with brass lamps every few feet. These did not use the glow-globes, but rather a system of fuel lines concealed within the walls. They flickered as I passed, and when I reached the end of the hall, I used the access staircase to ascend to Sheena’s office. She was there of course, behind her desk, nose in a pile of papers; I broke her concentration by stepping in through the back entrance. She knew it was me of course, Kayla and I were the only ones allowed to use the stair apart from her, and Kayla would be at the palace right now.

“You’re late, little sister,” She said in a tone that didn’t imply anger or a lecture, but it was a comment that would stick in my mind for days to come. “Stand there,” She waved to a spot in front of her desk, between the two chairs. I took my place and folded my hands in front of me, my shoulders tense as I had never quite gotten used to this part and the apprehension never subsided. Finally, she continued. “Tell me of your day, how did you spend it?”

“I went to the libary,” I said. “And-”

“And you bothered Marcella in the kitchen, you must find better ways to spend your time, little sister.”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I dropped my eyes to the floor and pressed my lips together, shame beginning to fill my consciousness like a glass filled with water. I could feel my cheeks burning. Sheena finally rose from the desk and motioned for me to follow her. We walked to the front of the room and stepped through a side door, into the white-tiled private washroom where she performed her own morning routines. It was a smaller space, containing a basic wash basin, a shower stall, and a vanity for all of the hygiene products she owned, many of which she never used. In front of a large oval mirror I could see various powders and serums in all different colors. Brushes sat upright in tin containers, creams in small round cannisters, dozens of things I didn’t recognize. I always felt uncomfortable in here, but she’d only made me walk in here a few times. I wondered what the occasion was today.

“Present,” She said sharply, indicating for me to stand straight and lay my hands out, palms down. I did so and she immediately took my left hand in hers, running her fingers over my nails and inspecting the skin. She then did the same with the other hand. “You have dirt under your nails. You’re not in service anymore, there’s no excuse.”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I grew even more embarrassed.

“You walked with a limp earlier, when you came into the office. Why?”

I thought about telling her that it was nothing but I’d learned my lesson early on about hiding things from her. My heart pounding, I simply told her the truth.

“I…I have a rash,” I admitted. Making that admission was difficult for me, given her general reaction every time I failed to take care of my own body. “I…it’s…the shaper, that I wear beneath my dress, it’s…rugging against my leg.”

“Why are you wearing the shaper?” She looked at me, confused. “That was given to you so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable among the other girls. Your surgical procedure eliminated the need.”

“I…no one told me that,” I offered the explanation as a protest and it escaped my lips as a whimper as I shrank back from her.

“Alright, strip,” She ordered. I shrank back even further, my eyes wide. “Lyra, I am your sister. These things will happen between us. Remove your clothing so I may see this rash.”

I shrank back again, even furthrt this time, bumping into the wash basin. What was I afraid of? She’d seen me naked before, back in the beginning, but since then things had changed. Even in the shared room, with Jen, I’d hung a sheet even while she’d simply changed in front of me. There was something different now, and I wasn’t sure what it was. All I knew was that my heart threatened to pound out of my chest and a fear rose in me unlike anything I’d experienced recently. I shook my head, eyes wide and I expected her to react in anger, but suddenly her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Lyra, I will not judge you, save for the ways a sister should. In my eyes you are female, regardless of your anatomy. Do you understand?”

I nodded, finally and fully understanding the reason for my apprehension. I slowly nodded, but felt myself clutching the folds of my dress, arms folded across my chest.

“Despite your reservations, there are things that must be done. I need to inspect your rash, or we can speak with a physician. How would you rather?”

Slowly and carefully, I removed the dress and stood there holding it in front of me, dressed now only in the brassiere and shaper. Sheena carefully took the dress from me and set it on the vanity. I shivered as she took the straps of the shaper and pulled them down about my waist, pulling the thick, stretchy material down as if she were peeling an orange. Moments later, it lay about my feet and Sheena inspection the rash; I winced as she pressed the skin with her fingers. Finally, she stepped over to the vanity; I breathed a sigh of relief and then began to breathe rapidly, choking and wiping my eyes as she sorted through several items. Finally, she returned with a round container, which she held out to me.

“Twice daily,” She instructed me “And you’ll be rid of that shaping garment.”

“I…”

“Yes, Lyra?” She regarded me sternly, but still with the soft expression.

“As long as I have it I’m…I’m not really a girl, I’m just pretending.”

“Lyra!” She snapped, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You will not disrespect yourself or me in this manner! You are my younger sister and as such you are an extension of my image, just as I am an extension of my family. You will carry yourself with pride, that is the reason we hold these inspections! Am I understood?”

“I…”

“Lyra you will stop this!” She grew angry, I backpedaled into the basin again, whimpering. “You will come to understand that you are what I say you are, and I say that you are a female, regardless of your anatomy, and you are my younger sister. This cannot be negotiated, cannot be argued! If you cannot understand then I will make you understand! Get dressed!”

I used the salve as she indicated and then I slipped back into my dress, save for the shaper. Back out in the main office, she motioned for me to sit at a wooden desk, far smaller than hers. She brought me a stack of parchment and an ink pen, and set the instrument beside the stack of parchment.

“Please, She— Elder Sister, not lines, please,” I begged and whimpered. She regarded me coldly and stepped away from the desk, returning to hers.

“You will write: “I am Lyra Rossi, sister of Sheena Rossi regardless of my anatomy,” She ordered. “Write it until I finish my work.”

Sheena returned to her desk and began to work as my pen scratched against the parchment over, and over, and over. By the time she finished working, my hand was cramped and my mental exhaustion was something that I could barely come to terms with. Most of the stack was written on, and she turned it over in her hands, flipping through the pages as I sat back in the chair, thrilled to be relieved of the task.

“You handwriting begs improvement, little sister,” She chided. “We will work on it. In the meantime understand that you are my little sister and I will not have you degrade yourself. Your feelings and fears can be discussed at length, but no good can come from self-degredation.”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I whispered, once again on the verge of tears.

“It is past seven, go to the kitchen and find something to eat, then retire to your room, am I understood?”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

In my own quiet form of rebellion, I skipped the kitchen and walked right to the dorm where Jen was already laying on her bunk, nose buried in a book. She took one look at me as I entered and sighed.

“Well?” Jen stared at me. “You’ve a thought in your head and your worry is tangible. What’s the matter?”

“Sheena,” I muttered, sitting down hard on my bunk and burying my head in my hands.

“Lyra, do straighten your skirt before you sit down like that,” She lectured me, I glared. “Is it that she’s strict, then?”

“She’s beyond strict, Jen! I can’t do anything! I-”

“She gave you free run of the campus, did she not?” Jen pointed out in a rather harsh tone. “So clearly you’ve something you can do. You’re upset she’s being a big sister. ‘Tis how things work here in this society, Lyra. You want your freedom? Wait until she’s taught you what she needs to teach you and be glad of it!”

“How then should I be glad of it?!” I demanded, shouting now. “When she humiliates me and makes me write lines like a child?! I can’t just-”

“You will be silent!” She said sitting up, suddenly angry. She slammed the book shut and sat up on the bed, climbing to her feet. I crawled back on my bunk, moving toward the wall, but she grabbed for the scruff of my dress and jerked me to my feet. I was completely shocked at just how strong she was as she dragged me from the room and through the small corridor. It was likely that everyone on the row, at least those in their rooms could hear me squealing and kicking as Jen dragged me to the stairs and dook me down to the second floor landing. We walked through the tunnel leading from the servant quarter to the Vice, and then across the courtyard. In the waning light of dusk we left the campus with me at least walking normally, though Jen’s hand was still tight around my wrist.

“Where are we going?” I whispered urgently as we pressed on down cobblestone streets, through alleys between buildings, and onward until the buildings around us ceased to be the nice, clean structures that I had become accustomed to. Suddenly, we were flanked on all sides by decrepit, decaying structures and horrific scents that I couldn’t even begin to identify. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomch as we stepped onto a busy ‘street’ that featured several run down shops and the scent of human waste runinning through the broken cobblestones. It wasn’t just the smell, or the decrepit buildings, it was the people. There was something about them that made my heart sink even further. An old man leaned against a shop wall, barely covered in his tattered rags, a bandage covering his left eye. He looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days. A woman wandered the streets reaching out, touching, talking to anyone who happened to pass by. A child lay on the walk, his leg bandaged, though you could still see the deformation - he would never walk under his own power. Jen guided me over to the boy who immediately looked to me and begged for a coin. I tensed, my jaw going stiff as I felt a sudden sense of helplessness. I looked to Jen who shot me a stern look before dropping a coin in the boy’s cup. She then dragged me away again, bringing us to a nearby alley.

“Look at it,” She said angrily. “Look at the suffering that befalls the people of your class. You had no money, no name other than the cursed Lavoric heritage which you renounced. Because of Sheena Rossi you will never want, you will never hunger, and you will never beg for your bread. All she asks in return is your respect and your obedience as she guides you on the right path? Do you take issue with that?”

“No,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut; I didn’t want to see.

“Our world is not a fair one, Lyra Rossi. There will be things that upset you, there will be things that hurt you, and this is the same for all who pass through it. But not everyone has Sheena Rossi to guide their steps. Now, let’s go back. I was just reaching the good part in my book.”

"Your voice is coming along nicely,” Gabrielle nodded as she raised her hand, indicating for me to raise to a higher pitch. Finally, she dropped her hand, allowing me to stop after I’d stayed at a specific pitch until she was satisfied. “But, you need to remember to keep practicing, every day; even in normal conversation.”

“But I do!” I argued. She gave me a knowing look and I sighed. “It’s hard. To keep my voice…like that, I mean-”

“You must practice both inside this room, and out, otherwise you’ll begin to lose your proficiency, and then we will have to start again, understand?”

“I do,” I nodded, feeling more than a little exhausted. “But Ms. Marsh, is it even worth it?”

“Pardon?” She cocked her head and looked down at me from her position over my desk. “I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning?”

“I…do you really think I’m truly a girl? I feel like I’m pretending,” I said the words to her that I couldn’t say to Sheena - each time I’d brought it up she would become angry or tell me to have more respect for myself. Gabrielle, however, didn’t become angry. Instead she snickered a little and then placed her fist to her lips, regarding me with an almost sympathetic smile. 

“What?” I asked desperately. “It’s not a joke, it’s-”

“My dear Lyra,” She laughed. “The humor resides in the very fact that you believe you could be anything else! Even before you had all of those procedures and styled your hair in a manner befitting a young lady, I would have never have mistaken you for a man! Lyra, a man can dress in women’s clothing but it does not make him a woman, does it? Being a girl doesn’t mean wearing the clothes or giving yourself a feminine name, it lies in how you carry yourself, how you interact with others. Tis not something you become, ‘tis something you are and always have been!”

“But I could be pretending,” I protested. “How would you know?”

“Lyra,” She looked around the classroom slowly, as if to ensure there was no one else with us. It was silly; we’d been alone in the empty classroom for the past three hours. “as one of your closest instructors I have been…advised as to who and what you are, specifically where you came from. This is…a strange line of questioning, considering.”

“Wait,” I widened my eyes in panic. “You know?” 

“Lyra, dear, your sister and I have spoken of it at length. In our society, there are people who are…oddly gendered. Some are males who transition to female, some female to male, some in between. Does it happen a whole lot? No, perhaps not, but it does happen. You, however, are a biologiy born female transposed into the body of a male. I don’t see, Lyra, how you could consider yourself anything less than female regardless of your anatomy.”

“You believe all of it?” I asked her incredulously.

“Had I been around fifty years ago, perhaps I would not,” She admitted. “But the Stormveil, the Mah’Kur, the mines of Jybaltin, everything changed, Lyra. You being from another world, isn’t so much of a stretch. Now, Lyra, I am a performer and I have been around my fair share of actors. You are no actor, Lyra. You carry yourself as a young girl, you speak as a young girl. Let there be no doubt in your mind.”

“Are you sure you’re not just-”

“Our lesson is finished today, Lyra,” She said, cutting me off and placing her hands on her hips. “Surely you can do your soul seeking elsewhere.” 

“Surely,” I smiled and nodded, standing up from the desk.

“Your homework is to practice the scales and work on your pitch. Most importantly, practice your voice with others, even if you perceive it as silly. Understood?” 

“Yes Ma’am,” I acknowledged before scurrying out of the room. Lacking a time piece, I prayed I wasn’t too late as I made my way down the stairs and toward the Octagon. I found Calliope there, standing near the third hallway; she shot me a smile and my heart melted at the sight of her deep red eyes and pale lips.

“Busy day?” She asked as I came near.

“I’m sorry,” I said with actual regret. “My lessons ran…a little long.”

“What lessons are you taking?” 

It suddenly occurred to me that I couldn’t tell her what kind of lessons I was taking. She had no idea that I was…well…that I was a fraud. I guess that was the way I was thinking of it. 

“Er…singing…lessons,” I said; at least that was somewhat close to the truth, though not entirely. Her eyes lit up as soon as I mentioned it.

“I should love to hear you sing sometime then!” She said excitedly. I blushed and gritted my teeth a bit.

“I…would…love to do that for you?” I said, panicking internally. She laughed and gave me a quick hug.

“But today, I have a surprise for you,” Her Zlitian accent was far more pronounced than Jen’s for sure; I wondered which part of the country she came from. It seemed to me that those from the southernmost reaches of the nation had the most extreme accents in contrast to those closer to the border of Klocby. Then again, that might be innate prejudice left over from Micah. Sometimes I could feel him, there in the back of my mind, clawing to get out. 

“A surprise?” I asked her as I shook off the chill building in the back of my neck. He wasn’t real, he wasn’t there. I was Lyra. I was a girl. A girl. 

“Yes, you will like it,” She assured me. She took me by the hand, I immediately looked down at her hand wrapped gently about mine and my eyes traveled up to hers. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes,” I nodded. It should have felt strange, her holding my hand, but somehow I felt warm, protected. Did I like girls? I couldn’t remember. She smiled again and led me toward the fifth hallway opposite the central pillar. We passed a woman in a purple hat and two girls in servant gray; I felt a tinge of recognition as one of them nodded to me. I didn’t know her name; I felt bad for that. 

The walk down the hallway was a blur to me; I concentrated mostly on Calliope, everything from the shape of her body, to the color of her fairly low cut top. It was a deep purple, a U shaped neckline, layered with a white undershirt. The top was paired with a thick skirt of a slightly darker purple that dropped to just below her knees. 

“Might you stop ogling me and come along?” She teased me. I recoiled a little, blushing and trying to think of a million different things to say to offset the situation. She simply snickered and pulled me closer as we ascended a stair and found ourselves in wide hall lined with doors on either side. “Come come, we have somewhere to be!”

The hall smelled like a cleaner that I was intimately familiar with, and the scent emanating from the gray tiles brought me back to a time that was so familiar to me, yet seemed so far away. My thoughts wandered to Sheena and Jen as we passed frosted windows and wooden doors on the way to a room with ‘218’ etched on the glass with black-gold lettering. 

“Where are we?” I asked her a little apprehensively, suddenly realizing that I had an actual problem with speaking up for myself. Could probably thank Sheena for that to some extent. Instead of answering, Calliope twisted the brass knob and walked into the room. Inside there were at least ten girls, all dressed as us in at least semi-formal gowns of different textures and colors. Most importantly, each of them were around our age, but regardless of the implied comradery, I found myself shrinking back, unsure of the situation that Calliope had just dragged me into. 

“It’s okay,” She smiled to me and gave my hand a squeeze. “Everyone! This is Lyra, I thought I’d bring her to today’s meeting, and she certainly has a story to tell!”

“Hello Lyra,” One of the girls said, stepping forward and giving me a once over with her eyes. “My name is Kayleigh, this is Lilliana, and the girl sulking in the corner is Audrey.”

“I am not sulking!” Audrey snapped back. I watched her, expecting her to say something more, but she simply put her head down, apparently reading a thick book cradled in her hands. 

“I haven’t see Lyra around,” Lilliana cocked her head, studying me as if I were a research project. 

“I have,” A new voice said. I looked up and my heart stopped. It was Sage. My eyes went wide and my jaw dropped just slightly. I expected her to say something, anything, perhaps even expose me, but it just didn’t happen. “Lyra is a special case, but one of us, nonetheless. Actually, she’s more like me.”

“Like you? She was adopted?” Lilliana asked, stepping forward to look at me. 

“That would be the situation yes,” Sage’s voice was guarded, her tone stiff. I tried to think of something to say but the words wouldn’t come. There was nothing I could say that would be adequate to the situation. Sage. The girl whose father I had ordered executed, the girl I had ordered to be executed. No, it wasn’t me, it was him but the memories were still there inside, creeping up, threatening to take over. “Calliope, if you’re going to bring her here among us then some honesty, perhaps?”

“Honesty?” Calliope looked to me, confused. “About what?” 

“If you won’t own to it, then leave,” Sage glared at me, Calliope frowned and looked from me, to her. “Shall I tell them then?” 

“I…” I began to tremble as Sage curled her lip. Immediately, I turned toward the door but she caught my arm and pulled me in among the other girls. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sage said in a sharp tone that didn’t quite imply anger. She then turned to the other girls and I prepared for the worst. “This is Lyra Rossi, sister of Sheena Rossi. Her circumstances are…unusual as she was not born female.”

There was an audible gasp around the room, and the sound of me retreating into myself, assuming that could make a noise. I opened my mouth and then close it again; Calliope started at me, mouth agape, an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Suddenly, I shrieked, my body shaking as I scanned the room for an exit but realized I was surrounded on all sides by girls who had made the transition from friendly, to outright shocked. 

“You may consider us even, now,” Sage said. “Sit.”

I didn’t want to sit, I wanted to run, I wanted to flee across the campus and hide in a hole somewhere. I wanted to be anywhere but here, in front of these girls and their curious, prying eyes. Instead, Calliope took me by the arm and helped me to sit in a chair just as my legs threatened to give way beneath me. She leaned in close, touching my face and studying me closely. 

“It is true then?” Her voice conveyed curiosity rather than anger, though it didn’t put me more at ease. Instead, I began to tremble, prompting her to lay a hand on my shoulder and lean in. “Calm yourself, no one here is laying judgement.”

“That much is true, “Sage confirmed. “But honesty is important here.”

“How is it honesty?” I demanded shakily. “I’m a girl, like you, you didn’t have to tell them that!”

“No matter,” Lilliana said, clapping her hands. Audrey looked up, somewhat interested, but then returned to her book. “Done is done, let us get started!”

Without another word on the topic, the girls pulled out wooden chairs and seated themselves in a circle with Calliope beside me, and Audrey finally closing her book with a sigh and making her way over to the circle. 

“That…was one way to start the meeting,” Kayleigh sighed and inhaled heavily through gritted teeth. The other girls nodded profusely in agreement. “Very well then. For those of us who are new, this is a meeting of the ‘Little Cogs’ club, an association of little sisters who-”

“Who need to vent their anger,” Audrey suddenly spoke, prompting everyone to look in her direction. Her face was a portrait of annoyance that contrasted her bright pink gown laden with bows and a white sash at the waist.

“Who dresses you?” Kayleigh teased her, prompting Audrey to give a low growl. 

“We ought start with Lyra,” Lilliana suggested; the other girls nodded. “The sister of Sheena Rossi. She had Desa and Elizabeth for sisters, can you imagine?” The other girls mumbled in agreement, one of them gave a low whistle - I cringed. 

“What is she like, then?” A girl whose name I didn’t know asked. I looked to hear, feeling queasy, but did my best to answer.

“She…I…”

“Now Lyra,” Calliope laid her hand on my knee and used her other hand to place a hand on my cheek and turn my head toward her, forcing me to meet her eyes. “What you were does not matter, and here you will find the kinship you so desperately need, do not waste this opportunity!”

“Before we start,” Kayleigh looked to Lilliana. “Ought we discuss what just transpired?” 

“Aye then,” Lilliana sighed. “Let’s be done with it. Sage, that was unnecessary, do you not think?”

“What was unnecessary?” Sage raised an eyebrow.

“Lyra is not entirely unique, we do know others who present as a different gender, ‘tis nothing new. ‘Tis also not considered polite to reveal them. Lyra seems to have worked hard on her appearance, and she clearly wishes to be considered as a woman, so I would go so far as to say you owe the girl an apology.”

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the room and I gripped the edge of my chair through my skirt. Sage looked at me, a stony expression on her face, and finally, I managed to speak up.

“It’s fine,” I said so quietly that it might as well have been a whisper. 

“It is not fine!” Calliope objected. “‘Tis your business, not hers!”

“This once,” I insisted. “It’s fine.”

Lilliana shot me an uncomfortable glance while Audrey rolled her eyes and Kayleigh scratched her head. 

“Whatever it is that transpired between the two of you, it does not enter these doors again, am I understood?” Lilliana directed her statement mostly at Sage who somehow managed to avoid shooting her a smirk. 

“Of course,” Sage nodded, stopping short of an apology. 

Lilliana stared hard at her, trying to discern whether or not there was cause for concern, and then exerted an inaudible sigh before turning back to me. 

“Lyra, the ‘Little Cogs’ club is an association of younger sisters, all are welcome, and whatever is said here, stays here. You are free to vent your frustrations as you see fit, and in turn, we will help you to deal with those frustrations, so, you have the floor, so to speak. What frustrates you most?”

“That is…a difficult question,” I struggled to even get the words out. “I love Sheena, as a sister. She saved me and I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

“There has to be more to it!” A girl on the other side of the circle said. 

“Indeed,” Kayleigh nodded. “The facts in this situation are…well…almost unbelievable. Let us see if we grasp the situation. You were a male, you made a remarkable transition to femininity, and now you find yourself under the influence of Sheena Rossi as her younger sister.”

“Sheena Rossi is tough,” Another girl noted. “I can scarcely imagine…”

“I’m fine with my sister, I really am,” I stammered, and then began to stand from my chair, ready to burst into a full run toward the door. Calliope squeezed my hand and pulled me downward, practically forcing me back into the chair. 

“Aye I can see the fear in her eyes!” A girl laughed.

“She’s trembling,” Snickered another.

“Oh calm yourselves!” Lilliana interjected loudly; the laughter died down. “Take no mind to it, Lyra, they just like seeing in you what they’ve seen in themselves. Though…worse, taking to consider it’s Sheena Rossi. So tell us Lyra, what do you find to be the most difficult?”

The other girls in the circle leaned forward, suddenly eager to hear what I had to say. 

“I…I can’t do this,” I said suddenly, rising from my chair. “She’s my sister, I can’t- I can’t!” 

I don’t fully remember making it from my chair to the door, I only remember a flurry of cloth as my skirts scraped against the floor and a slight pain as I slammed my toe against the leg of a chair. Out in the hallway, I took off like a shot even as Calliope shouted after me. I made it to the stairs and nearly managed to clear the bottom step, but instead tripped and sailed across the landing, smashing into the balustrade and rolling onto my side. 

“Goddess!” Calliope said as her feet pounded down the wooden steps. Beneath the soft glow of the wall-mounted arc-lamp, she gathered me in her arms and patted my cheek. “Lyra? Lyra!”

“No, stop slapping me!” I moaned, pushing her hand away. “I’m awake!”

“Aye but you didn’t seem so, did you hit your head?”

“No!” I shook my head violently, then rolled sideways against her chest. “I can’t do it, Calliope! She’s my sister, how could you?!”

“Oh calm your nerves,” Callaiope rolled her eyes and hugged me. “You reacting like this tells me there’s something wrong for sure. You ought talk to someone. And what ‘tis it you’ve done to poor Sage then?”

“I tried to kill her family,” I admitted.

“You are so very funny,” Callaiope rolled her eyes and helped me to sit upright. I laid back against the ballaster, overlooking the stairs down. It was quiet in the stairwell, almost serene; I recalled too many times as a servant when I’d sat myself on one of these landings and basked in the solitude. It was an in-between space where no one would look for you, your own quiet little corner of the world. Callaiope sat there in silence for some time, but then finally spoke; her voice echoed off the thin, bare walls regardless of how low she made it. “I am a younger sister as well, Lyra. Your situation is not unique and you needn’t do it alone.”

“They won’t have me back after that,” I said, feeling somewhat satisfied at that fact. “I have to do it alone.”

“Aye, you think you’re the only one to tuck tail and run from a ‘Little Cogs’ meeting?” She laughed. “Our lives can be both strange and intimidating, what you did, ‘tis not by far the strangest thing to happen in that room, mark my words.”

“Well that’s good,” I smiled a little. “I rather liked some of them.”

“As you ought,” Calliope said. “They’re good friends, all of them. 

“But what of the other thing?” I asked her, feeling more than a bit concerned.

“Other thing? Oh. That. Tis of no matter to me, by and by I can’t see why Sage did such a thing, I am glad to know it though.”

“Y- you are?”

“Aye,” Calliope nodded. “T’will make it easier to understand you for certain. Would never’ve figured it out if Sage hadn’t been so blunt.”

“That can’t be true,” I laughed. “You would have figured it out.”

“I really do not think that to be so,” Calliope squeezed my hand and grinned at me. “Either you’ve truly mastered the art of cosmetics, or you’ve had work done on you.”

“Both,” I admitted. She nodded. “But I guess this means no more dates.”

“How should I take to mean that?” She looked to me in confusion. 

“I suppose you like girls,” I shrugged. “I…liked you in that way, I think. I mean, I didn’t know for sure I like girls, at least until now, but truly you deserve better than a pretender.”

Calliope recoiled and looked at me in abject horror. I frowned and looked about in panic, wondering what it was I’d done.

“A pretender?” She said. “You, my dear Lyra are many things but a pretender you are not!”

Without a single word of warning, she leaned in and pressed her lips against mine; I started in surprise but didn’t attempt to pull away; instead I found myself leaning in, pressing my body against hers and slowly closing my eyes as I reveled in the warmth of her embrace. Finally, we pulled ourselves apart and I leaned back against the balister, breathing heavily.

“There is no pretense here, Lyra Rossi,” She assured me. “I am attracted to girls, and you, Lyra, are a girl. Make no mistake.”

“Okay,” I said, short of breath as she kissed me again. 

Hours later I found myself walking back to the servant quarters, lost in thought and wishing I were still with Calliope. Unfortunately, Sheena had enacted a fairly strict curfew for me which involved dinner and then bed. I made the decision to stop at the room first where I found Jen placing her work uniforms on hangers, she gave me a quick glance as I walked through the door. 

“Took some time to put a thought to it,” She said to me as she turned to small closet. “and I ought say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I asked her, confused as I sat on my bunk.

“I grew up poor,” She explained. “I didn’t have a Sheena to help me pull through the cold nights. Well before I was of age I found myself sleeping on the cobblestones with nothin’ but a burlap sack to keep me in heat as the snows took the streets and the winds swept me up. By and by, I was thin as a sheet o’ parchment with an empty belly and a dry tongue. When I see you casuin’ a stir over being taken care of, I guess I mean to say it irritates me some, but then I remember that you may not be hungry, and you might not be beggin’ in the alley, but you’ve sure got your own to worry about, don’t you?”

“Maybe not as bad as you,” I suggested. “I think you were right, the other night when you took me out to the slums.”

“Wasn’t.” She shook her head and sat down on the bunk across from me. “I think you ought listen to your sister, but she ought listen to you to. She likes to say your situation isn’t unique, but it is. If you need to talk, I’ll be here.”

“The situation isn’t unique,” I argued. “Lots of people are little sisters, they all get bossed around. I know that know. She really just wants what’s best for me.”

“Aye, she does,” Jen smiled and nodded. “I’m surely glad you see that, but her job is to ready you to take your place in the world. How ought you do that if the world is different for you than it is for most others? Aye, she’ll need some guidance of her own, sure enough. But enough of that, off we go, ‘tis dinner time. Wait though.”

I froze as she leaned in, looking hard at my face. She frowned and then turned to her bedside table, retrieving a white cloth and taking it to my lips. 

“You oughtn’t go to the dining hall with a stranger’s lipstick all about you,” She lectured. “What’s this to mean anyway? You became a girl just to kiss girls? What sort of sense does that make, Lyra?”

“I didn’t!” I protested. “I wear lipstick! It’s mine!”

“Lyra, dear, I’ve kissed enough to know what it looks like to leave a smear, you plainly forget I’m older than you. ‘Sides love, you’re redder than a hot iron now. You’ve told Sheena, then?”

“I um…of course,” I nodded profusedly. Jen cocked her head at me.

“Aye well, if you have then good, if you haven’t, at least I’ll have a front row seat to whatever discipline she bestows on you.”

“Can we…just go to dinner?” I suggested.

“Aye, we’ll go to dinner. 

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. 

“I suppose I ought thank you for agreeing to this meeting,” Sheena said, withholding the sigh that almost instinctively worked its way out. 

“I’m a reasonable man, Sheena,” Father said. “but what you’re asking truly defies reason. I can take to admit when I’ve been wrong but-”

“Aye? Can you?” Mother smirked.

“-that doesn’t mean this idea of yours is a reasonable one. Micah Lavoric, a part of our family proper? Sheena, I cannot stomach the thought. I cannot even abide you being near that abomination!”

“And yet you know that she is not Micah Lavoric,” Sheena said, taking a tiny sip of her tea and then lowering it to cool. “We are of a very few who are privileged to understand her origin. With that knowledge in hand you should be prepared to welcome her.”

“And what of your sisters?” Father demanded. “How would they feel about such a thing?”

“Aye we would be fine with it,” Desa’s voice rang out across the yard. The three of them turned to see both Desa and Elizabeth making their way across the yard, each dressed in varying shades of green. They ascended the three brief steps and stood before Sheena, Martin, and Colleen, hands folded in front of them. “How shouldn’t I like a new little sister to torment? Sheena’s of age now.”

“You’re both very busy women,” Father rolled his eyes. “And you live on the other side of Auglire.”

“I live three blocks west,” Elizabeth reminded him. “Desa’s not so far either. ‘Sides, we’ll take turns borrowin’ her.”

“Goodness gracious,” Sheena interjected. “Lyra’s not a library book!”

“No?” Desi rasied an eyebrow. “At the very least she’ll make a fine model for my sewing.”

“So you intend to use her as a window model?” Sheena demanded.

“Same as I used you,” Desi shrugged. “You can’t say to me that you don’t use her for your own pleasures.”

“Please don’t say it that way,” Sheena paled. Desi laughed.

“Tell us about Lyra,” Mother spoke up again. “What does she do now?”

Desi and Elizabeth made their way around the edge of the gazebo, taking a seat near Sheena and looking to her expectantly. Sheena looked to them, then back to her parents before taking another sip of her tea. She looked down, into the brown liquid, lost in thought as she tried to conjure up the words to describe it.

“Lyra….” Sheena took a deep breath and shifted in her seat. “is a complicated girl. But she is a teenage girl, so why should she not be? Who among us was not lost as a teenage girl, but for the guidance of our older sisters? She struggles. I’ve had her removed from service so that she may find herself, but even then she is lost and I worry for her. She walks the campus, visits the library from time to time, but above all she yearns to be useful. She rebels because she lacks structure; a structure that I cannot give her. But, despite her shortcomings, she is learning, whether she knows it or not. She is learning more about who she is and less about who she was, she is learning to feel, to think, and to understand. I see great changes in her but it’s not enough. I require help, she requires help and above all, she requires love.”

“Very moving,” Father said indifferently. “now, Sheena, supposing we do this, we must discuss your future plans. You cannot remain in the service of House Jenwise for your entire life. Your time of philanthropy must surely come to an end.”

“You cannot use Lyra’s health and development as a bargaining chip,” Sheena said firmly. “I am an adult, I will do as I please.”

“If you wish to go to university, you will need our money,” Father said insistently. “‘tis the least you can do if we’re to take on your charity case!”

“I beg pardon of you,” Mother suddenly interjected. “That girl has the Rossi name and I am inclined to believe that Sheena didn’t give it without forethought. Lyra is a member of our family whether you wish to acknowledge it or not. If you won’t take her in, then I will.”

“Nonsense,” Father scoffed. “I own this house!”

“And I own another,” Mother shrugged. “I could just as easily take up residence at the Maussen house, and she might be just as well off without a father, or perhaps she wouldn’t. The decision is yours, Martin Rossi.”

Father scoffed and took a sip of his tea before setting it down on the small octagonal plate. He chuckled and then turned to her. “Split up the Rossi family? You wouldn’t dare do that over some degenerate that Sheena took in. It would be madness, Colleen, madness!”

“Sheena,” Mother said, setting her cup down. “Ready Lyra to move into the Maussen house. Give me two week’s time to have the furniture dusted, at least.”

“She could dust it herself,” Sheena suggested. 

“I will hire two servants, such work is below Lyra now.”

“This is ridiculous,” Father said. “How long do you plan to keep up this charade?”

“Until such time as you come to your senses,” Mother shrugged. “in the meantime, Sheena, Lyra will be enrolled in a private school and will be brought up in the Rossi traditions.”

Fother scoffed again and set his teacup and plate on the table, standing with a start and storming out of the gazebo.

“He isn’t taking to it kindly,” Sheena pointed out. Mother shrugged.

“This will be for the best,” Desi said. “Sheena, I have read your letters and heard your concerns. The truth is, while you are doing your best with her, you’re expecting too much from her too soon. She is a girl who fell through not one, but two realities and has dealt with the horror of being trapped in a body that does not befit her. This…is enough to cause anyone upset, and you wish for her to behave as not only a proper young lady, but a Rossi with just a few stern words?”

“She speaks true, and I agree,” Elizabeth added. “I do love you Sheena, but it is time to defer to those who have more experience and resources. We will be gentle with her and we will help her to understand.”

“You cannot expect to be gentle all the time!” Sheena protested. “Sometimes punishment is necessary, especially with her!”

“I do not mean this with anything other than the utmost kindness, Sheena,” Mother said. “But you shoved a lifetime of training down her throat on a thirty minute airship ride and then took a rod to her backside. Let us not pretend that was ideal.”

“A little brash, I admit,” Sheena smirked as she recalled the memory. Mother rolled her eyes as Desi snickered. 

“Take heart in the the knowledge that we have other ways to keep her under control,” Elizabeth informed her. “The rod will remain an option, but your…direct methods are only sure to brew distrust in her.”

“While we are…on the subject,” Desi shifted uncomfortably. “A young woman by the name of Lilliana came to me on behalf of the Little Cogs Club.”

“Did Lyra find the Little Cogs Club?” Sheena perked up a smile beginning to emerge. “I was hoping she would!”

“Aye, she did indeed,” Desi confirmed. “They came asking after her well being.”

“I remember my time there,” Sheena smiled. “I rugged on you an awful lot.”

“Did you?” Elizabeth smirked. “Well tis what it is for, I would suppose.”

“On the contrary, dear sister,” Desi said. “Lyra ran in terror when she was asked to speak about you. The club should like to know if there is anything they can do for her.”

A silence fell over the group, and it was broken unceremoniously by Mother who began to let out a slow snicker, covering her mouth with her fist in a futile attempt to quell the noise. 

“They say she fell down a flight of stairs,” Desi added.

“Humor aside,” Mother said, leaning in to pour herself another cup of tea. “Sheena, my lovely daughter, what is it that you are afraid of?”

“Afraid of?” Sheena frowned. “In regards to what?”

“Think on it, Sheena,” Elizabeth said. “You are following tradition to the letter, but did we do such a thing with you?”

“Of course!” Sheena protested. “And I am better for it!”

“I think you will find that we did not,” Desi corrected her. “Every girl is different, and every girl requires different treatment. A girl who fell through the fabric of the universe and now has to learn to be a woman in a male body? She requires very different treatment.”

“So what are you afraid of, then?” Mother asked again. “Speak truth, my daughter.”

“I…” Sheena paused and collected herself. She stroked hear hair, tucking it behind her ear and then let out a strong exhale. “In…my time I have known two Lyra’s, though in truth there have been four. The Lyra who lived…in that other world, the Lyra who lived in the Stormveil, the Lyra who was Micah Lavoric, and now the Lyra who I consider to be a beloved but misguided sister. I see this fourth Lyra and I wish for her only the best but I am so very much afraid for her. When I look at her I see only Lyra, my sister, but she still sees him when she looks in the mirror. I can see it in her eyes, I can hear it on the edge of her voice. She is afraid that she is still him, though I see only her. She is so very afraid and I want her to feel safe, so I teach her in the best way that I can. I can teach her customs. I can show her how to hold her fork, how to smooth her skirt before she sits, how to walk, how to curtsey, all of those things. What I cannot teach her is how to love herself, and how to show her that the girl who lived inside her for so long is no longer inside, but out here for all the world to see. How do I show her that she’s beautiful? How do I show her that she deserves the love that I and others show her? How do I teach her that she is worthy? Stray thoughts fill her mind, she borrows worries that do not belong to her. I love that girl, mother, as you loved me, as my sisters loved me, and I want to scream it at her, I want to shake her and tell her that she is my sister and she deserves our love but how can I tell her what she won’t hear?”

Sheena wiped her cheek to intercept the tears streaming downward and squeezed her eyes shut. Desi shifted uncomfortably while Elizabeth rose and crossed the gazebo to deliver a much needed hug.

“Oh my dear sister,” Elizabeth smiled as she embraced her. “Do you not think we had these problems with you? To teach someone to love is one thing, to teach them that they are worthy of love is another entirely. But you were, and she is.”

“And this is where I fall short,” Sheena sniffled, her eyes red. “You can teach her what I cannot, I am…I have failed as a sister and a mentor.”

“You have not!” Desi interjected, rising from her seat. “You have not failed her because you are here! You have come to seek advice and to find what is best for her! And we will guide her Sheena, just as we guided you, just as we continue to guide you.”

“Prepare Lyra to make the move to the Maussen house in two week’s time,” Mother said. “I will require a list of her tutors so she may continue her lessons. She will do well, Sheena.”

“Two weeks? That’s all?” Sheena frowned. “I thought we’d have more time.”

“Oh Sheena,” Mother laughed. “Make time to visit her!”

“I will,” Sheena nodded. “I will.”

I made my way through the dining hall, through the rows of tables bustling with the excited and idle conversations of servant that I both knew and didn’t know. One girl dark skin and curly blonde hair smiled and waved to me as I passed; I waved back, though I had no idea who she was. She turned to her friends and giggled as I continued onward, past the main grouping of tables and toward the front where Sheena, Kayla, and Elric sat with their food trays pushed off to the side while they stared at stacks of paper atop brown folders. Elric scratched some numbers into a column and shook his head as I approached. 

“Three did not show for their shifts,” Elric said in annoyance as I slid into the bench; my tray clattered against the wooden surface, drawing his attention momentarily before he looked back to the sheet in front of him. Sheena reached across the table, and took my plate and tin cup from the tray, then dropped the tray on the floor behind her. 

“Not enough space for that, Lyra,” She lectured me. 

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I replied, immediately.

“You look good,” Kayla remarked to me. “Now that the swelling has subsided. How does it feel?”

I shrugged and bit my lip. “Uh…I really like not having to paint my face. I used to sweat a lot.”

“I suppose wearing cosmetics all of the time would be an annoyance,” Kayla laughed. “but are you happy?”

“I am,” I nodded and smiled. “I feel more…like me…I guess. I never liked the cosmetics….they made my face itch.”

“They shouldn’t do that,” Kayla frowned. “What brushes were you using?”

“On the subject of ‘you’,” Sheena said to me. “I have left you to your own devices since you were dismissed from service and I do apologize for that.”

“You’re busy, I understand, Elder Sister” I said quickly. 

“It will be remedied,” She assured me. I gulped and paled as I wondered what she might have in store for me. 

“Ah, but before that,” Elric said, reaching beside the table and producing a covered basket. “I thought you ought have some of my creations, seeing as you were rushed off so suddenly the last time I cooked.”

“Oh! Thank you Elric,” I said with a quick smile as I accepted the small basket and began to pull back the cloth napkin. Sheena placed her hand on mine until my eyes met hers.

“Later,” She said firmly. “Eat your dinner, Lyra.”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

Sheena returned to her paperwork and I watched her compare notes with Kayla as they both occasionally nibbled on their meals. I looked down at my tray and frowned; there was a Rukon egg that had been boiled and peeled, though it was a shade of dark purple rather than the usual red. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand, keeping my fingers tight so as to avoid it slipping from my hand. 

“Don’t play with your food,” Sheena told me.

“Why is it purple?” I asked her. “Rukon eggs are red.”

“That, is a fertilized egg,” Elric advised me. He would know; he was apparently the expert on all things food. 

“Fertilized?” I frowned, taking a bite out of it.“What does that mean? Oh goddess, it’s good!”

“Aye, as it should be,” Sheene said, not bothering to look up. “You just ate a baby rukon.”

I paled and my stomach lurched as I did a half turn and spat the egg onto the floor of the dining hall. Surprisingly, no one even looked up. 

“So, Lyra,” Elric pushed his papers aside and replaced them with his meal tray. “Did you enjoy the horseback riding this week past?”

Sheena looked up, raising an eyebrow at me and then looked to Elric. 

“You’re playing it up then, aren’t you?” She gave him a glance that looked like more of a warning than anything else. 

“I am playing nothing!” Elric said back teasingly. Sheena cocked her head and then shook it at him.

“Lyra,” Sheena said. “You will come to my office after the evening meal.”

“I…always do,” I frowned. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Right,” Sheena looked incredibly distracted before returning her attention to her meal. She popped of the of the eggs into her mouth and I cringed as she chewed it. She snickered as much as she could with a full mouth as she observed the look of horror on my face. 

“How does it differ from eating any other egg?” Kayla asked me. “They are all the same.”

“They are not!” I practically screeched. Sheena laughed again, this time placing her hand to her nose to prevent a snort. “They’re…they’re….ugh!”

“Convincing argument,” Sheena nodded. 

“I will take it under advisement,” Kayla smirked as she ate another of the eggs. I shuddered.

“Eat, Lyra,” Sheena pointed to my plate. “Even if the eggs are not to your liking you’ve still got bread and husproot.”

Part of me wanted to tell her that I was seventeen years old and didn’t need to be ordered about like a child, but the other part of me fully realized that was just the way of things. Another part of me appreciated being given direction even if it was forceful. I obediently dug by spoon into the husproot and smeared a bit of it on a piece of seasoned bread. 

“You oughtn’t do that,” Sheena said disapprovingly. “It’s not ladylike, nor is it proper.”

“Aye, and since when has this hall cared for those traditions?” Elric laughed as he dipped his own bread in the husproot and took a bite.

“Elric, I warn you,” Sheena’s tone had an agitated edge to it, Elric sighed and wiped his mouth. “Lyra, while it may not matter now, there could come a time in your life when it does matter, and so I compel you to become accustomed to it now.”

“Listen your sister, little one,” He advised me. I shuddered a bit at being called ‘little one’.

“Come,” Sheena said, gathering her papers as she saw I’d finished my food. “Let us go to my office.”

I stood up to follow her, grabbing the tray from the floor as I went. After dropping my tray and plate off at the kitchen, I struggled to match her brisk pace down the hallway and up the back stair that led directly into her office. I stood in the customary spot, just in front of the desk and held my hands out as she took them and scanned over the fingernails.

“Lyra,” She said as she held my hand up closer to her face. “Do you dig graves in your spare time?”

“No, Elder Sister,” I blushed. She shrugged and led me to the latrine where she began to use a small metal instrument to dig dirt from beneath my nails. Once she was finished, she began to trim them with a small pair of clippers, ensuring that each of them was perfectly symmetrical. 

“If these will not grow,” She said. “Then we ought cap them with something to make them longer. Faux nails are in style.”

“I’ve never had to worry about it before,” I protested. “Why now?”

Sheena looked up at me and inhaled, opened her mouth to speak, and then close it again. I got the distinct feeling that she was planning on saying something entirely different than what followed. 

“Well, Lyra, you should take pride in your appearance. Long nails are a strong mark of feminity. You will learn to adapt these customs.”

I looked to her questioningly; the way she’d said it made it sound as if a change was coming, or perhaps I was overthinking things. After all, changes happened all the time and none of them were necessarily bad. Surely I was being paranoid. Sheena ran her fingers thorough my hair, starting at my scalp and working her way down to the ends. She nodded, satisfied that I had been using the correct oils and creams. In the beginning I had had trouble getting the texture right but things were easier now. 

“Your skin looks good,” She touched my cheek. “but you have darkness beneath your eyes, have you been sleeping enough?”

“I wake up in the night sometimes, Elder Sister,” I admitted. “I…need to void…a lot.”

“Do you? That is interesting.”

“Sometimes though it just feels like I have to go and I can’t.”

“Ah,” Sheena nodded. “Make your way to the clinic tomorrow morning, first thing. You have an infection.”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

“You will take better care of yourself,” She warned me. “This is not an option. Are we understood?”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

“Good,” She nodded. “Now on to more important matters.”

She took me by the hand and led me out of the bathroom, over to the plush green couch nearest the desk. We sat down, and she took both of my hands in hers, giving me an uncharacteristically warm smile.

“Now, dear sister,” She said. “It may, or may not have escaped your attention that Elric and I have grown rather close. As you know, assuming that you have been paying attention, that the little sister does have some say in courtship. Not so much as I have over you, but your opinion is important to me, do you understand?”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I nodded. Truthfully I hadn’t noticed anything with them. “But…I wouldn’t say anything against him, he is very nice.”

“Be that as it may, Lyra, I would fully expect to be involved with any romantic entanglements that you had, though you’d better not be having any. Elric and I are going on a date, and, as custom dictates, you will accompany us.”

“I…will?” I blushed, and my eyes darted about the room. “What…what would I even be doing?”

“You may think of it as an interview,” She said. “Decide if you like him enough to allow him into our lives in this manner, do you understand?” 

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I replied, though I certainly did not understand. I had no control over her affairs, so why did it even matter if I were there?

“Furthermore,” She said. “tomorrow, in the afternoon, you will go to room two-eighteen, east of the Octagon, do you understand?”

Instead of responding, I simply gasped, the color drained from my face as my arms went limp as I recalled that infernal ‘Little Cogs Club’. 

“No, Sheena,” I said breathlessly. “I didn’t mean…I…I mean…I…”

“Calm yourself, little sister,” She squeezed my hands. “A little rebellion is expected, especially if it means you can vent your concerns, understand?”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I said, realizing that I was trembling. She rubbed my arm and smiled.

“I apologize, little sister, if I have been too hard on you, but alas, I wish for you to reach your full potential, whatever that may be. Now, prepare yourself for bed, understood?”

“Yes, Elder Sister,” I managed a smile and she embraced me in a brief hug before allowing me to leave the room and head back to the servant’s quarters. Jen was already there, laying on her bunk when I entered. 

I walked through wordlessly, allowing her to read, and hoped that I could simply go to sleep without a confrontation. It worked right up to the point that I crawled beneath my blankets and pulled them up to my chin, when Jen sprung from her own bed and shot over to mine, leaping atop me and pressing on the corners of my heavy blanket. I squirmed and tried to pull myself out, but it was no use, she had me.

“Who is she?” Jen asked, leaning in close.

“Who is who?!” I demanded. “Let me up!”

“Not a chance!” She laughed. I shrieked and squirmed as she pinned me down with her knee and then began to tickle my sides beneath the blanket. 

“No, no please, stop!” I begged her, which only prompted her to laugh again and continue tickling. I shrieked again and she clamped her hand over my mouth, pinning my arms with her legs as I continued to squirm. 

“The girl who left that lipstick all over you,” She said to me very plainly. “Who is she?”

“Mmmmphhh!” I shouted through her hand. I struggled to free myself enough to at least scream, but she kept her hand securely clamped over my mouth as I laid there struggling. 

“Well, whoever it is, I’m sure you’ve spoken of her to Sheena and I’m sure you’ve gotten permission!” as she spoke, she used her free hand to continue tickling as I squirmed and tears began to fall down my cheeks. There was nothing I could do to overpower her, I was helpless even as my legs kicked wildly, stunted by the weight of her lower body pressing against mine. Suddenly, she stopped tickling and gave me a very serious look. “If you haven’t told her, you ought. I’m not going to tell on you, Lyra, because as her little sister you should know by now. I simply don’t wish to see you hurt. Not that she would hurt you…much.”

She released my mouth and rose from the bed, I gasped uncontrollably and rolled off the bunk, falling to the floor with a thud at her feet.

“I’ll tell her!” I managed to force out between gasps. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“I’m trying to keep you from trouble,” She said. “Since you can’t seem to do it yourself.”

As I writhed on the floor, with her standing above me, hands on her hips, there came a knock at the door. Jen snickered and stepped to the front of the room, sliding the door open to reveal three girls, all dressed in white bed clothes.

“Might you keep it down?” She asked, looking from Jen, then to me on the floor. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“I’m sorry!” I gasped. “She’s touched in the head!”

“Aye? Well, Jen, if you plan to kill Sheena’s sister might you do it in the day, and where there are no witnesses to the act?”

“I do apologize,” Jen smiled as I managed to crawl to the side of the bed and bury my head in the mattress. “Lyra is seeing someone without her sister’s permission.”

“Oh,” The girl said, looking back to the others behind her, then back to me. “Well, rest in peace then.”

The girls left us and Jen closed the door, the latch clicked and she turned to me.

“Tell her,” Jen said to me sternly. “You’ve been at this long enough to know what happens if you defy her. You don’t want her to get creative.”

“But she told me I can’t see anyone!” I protested as I pulled myself up onto bed and trembled. “What am I supposed-”

“If that is her prerogative then you should respect it,” Jen plopped down onto her bunk and laid back. “But, ultimately, it isn’t my job to tell her.”

“She won’t find out,” I said, laying back. “I’ll be careful.”

“As you say,” Jen laughed. “Just remember that I tried to help you.”

I slammed my head against the pillow, garnering another giggle from Jen who simply flicked the light switch, plunging us into a relative darkness. After a few moments, a dull light began to fill the room, emitted by the Arctesonite powered lamps from the hallway as it softly penetrated the frosted glass pane in the upper third of the door. There had been brief talk of a curtain, but Jen and I had both come to the conclusion that we liked the soft light. I laid there for a while, letting my eyes adjust to the room until the ceiling finally came into view. 

Reaching up above the blanket, I rubbed my eyes and then wiped them with the fabric, thinking too hard on the events of the past few months. Sheena, my sister. The family she’d given up for me; all things that I’d never asked for but received anyway. How did I feel about it? As the light adjusted to my eyes, I saw Jen across from me, very much not asleep; in fact, her eyes were wide open, staring in my direction.

“What is the matter, little Lyra?” She asked me softly. “You look positively devastated.”

“Nothing,” I said, choking back the flood of emotions that was beginning to overtake me. “I’m…I’m just tired.”

“Aye? Go to bed then, unless it’s a different kind of tired you speak of.”

I laid there with my eyes closed, squeezed shut to block out the light, but the next time I opened them, she was still staring at me. 

“I don’t know who I am,” I said quietly. “she…she controls everything I do. I don’t have time to be a person. I’m…I’m suffocating.”

“And did you tell her that?”

“I can’t talk to her about things like that!” I protested. “I…she’ll be angry and…I won’t be a good sister.”

“I think, little Lyra,” She said to me. “you will find that if you communicate with her, she will accommodate you far better than you think.”

“But-”

“Go to sleep little Lyra, and tomorrow, speak with your sister.”

I fell silent and tried to allow the darkness to overtake me as thoughts assaulted my every attempt to sleep. I wanted to be the perfect little sister but there was this other part of me that wanted to make my own decisions - the decisions that Sheena had taken from me the day she had declared me her sister. But hadn’t the choices already been taken by Lady Jenwise? Had they been taken by circumstance? Who should I be angry with? Who should I blame for the circumstance? Part of me wanted to blame myself, the boy still inside, buried somewhere. Part of me wanted to blame Sheena for assuming that I would want to form this bond with her. That I would truly desire the societal responsibilities that came with the Rossi name - whatever it was worth at this point. But what if she hadn’t done that for me? What if she’d simply allowed the High Lady to go through with her plan? Where would I be now? Who would I be? Would I even be alive? I imagined myself locked away in one of my father’s dungeons deep within the city of Slose, capitol of Axock, forced to undergo countless tortures as he tried to regain the identity of his son. Sheena had saved me from that, hadn’t she? She had made sure that I had remained here, in Auglire. Also, who the hell was naming these cities? 

“Lyra,” Jen said. I opened my eyes to see her watching me still. “You’re whimpering. Come here.” 

I put up no protest and wordlessly pulled back my blanket and crossed the cold floor as Jen lifted her blanket so that I could climb into the bunk with her. 

“Lyra,” She said as I laid with my back to her, nestling against her warmth as she wrapped the blanket about me. “You are safe, you are loved. That is what matters now. Let us sleep, little Lyra.”

And so we slept. I drifted off, allowing my surroundings to become faint as I became lost in the warmth of Jen’s body heat and the all-encompassing sanctuary of the blankets. For a moment, just a moment, all of my worries could be forgotten. And then it happened.

I found myself there again, surrounded by those deep green trees in an endless forest, a sack cloth dress died purple, a rope tied about my waist. 

Liminality. 

2 Years Ago

38 Years Before the Fall of Hybra

“Hold, girl,” Balthasar placed his hand on my shoulder, dagger clenched within his other hand as we peered through the clearing. Beyond the line of trees the, ruins of a stone building jutted from the overgrown grass, a simple wall, worn down by time with a rectangular window peering into a structure that was no longer there. Above us, dim sun shafts penetrated the tree canopy, providing a dull, silver light by which to see. Brighter in some spots than others, the stones of the ruin reacted brilliantly, some radiating the muted sunlight in an almost blinding fashion. I tilted my head, my ears taking inventory of the soft wind as it worked its way through the thick wood and the sound of insects chirping off in the distance. 

The trees here were tight around us, inhibiting our movement in an almost uncomfortable manner. I looked to Balthasar, his scarred countenance peered back to me as he raised a finger to his lips and then pointed past the ruin. I peered through a gap in the decaying wall and and bit my lip as I caught sight of brown fur peeking from behind a bush some twenty yards away. It was there, waiting for us, if it even knew that we were here. I looked to Balthasar again, who motioned for me to make my way around the side of the structure. I nodded and made my way, hands out to clear the brush as I crouched low to the ground. It seemed unreal to me that the thing couldn’t even see me. Surely it could; there was no way I was that stealthy. 

I watched Balthasar cross to the other side of the ruin with practiced precision, each footstep executed quickly while carefully contemplated. It came into view; the bear was massive to say the least. Thick, razor sharp claws extended from a paw that was three times the size of my chest and resting just beside a tree mere yards away from the spot where I crouched. Was it asleep? I couldn’t tell. Its massive head lay against the ground, turned away from me; if its eyes were open then they were aimed in Balthasar’s direction, not mine. I could imagine those eyes, yellow and glowing with black vertical slits from top to bottom. I could smell its breath; I could feel that gigantic chest moving up and down, displacing the tall grass around it as it breathed the infernal air of Liminality. Did I feel fear? I couldn’t tell; it was difficult to die in Liminality but everyone knew it wasn’t impossible. A foot-long claw to my chest would probably do the trick or at least come close. As Balthasar crept around, dagger in hand, I thought back on the people I had seen die here in Liminality during the past twelve years. Surprisingly, they had all been taken during the nightly raids, and many of them had gone willingly. I guess that at some point, there’s just no motivation to go on. 

I flicked my eyes up, seeing Balthasar still crouched on the other side of the clearing; he nodded to me and I returned the nod. Slowly, I reached my hand out and concentrated; though my palm was in the air I could suddenly feel the prickling of the grass on my fingertips, the sensation of soil against my palms. I concentrated harder, feeling the composition and texture of the dirt surrounding the bear, and in my mind I visualized it at the base level. It began to change according to my will, and then, dirt solidified, changing into obsidian vines that crept up past the surface of the dirt, criss crossing, braiding, twisting, weaving until they reached the height of the beast. Quietly, I allowed them to rise up, forming a dome over top of the sleeping beast, and as the vines came together, I gave a quick flick of my wrist. Even as I did so, I could hear the boy’s voice at the back of my mind.

“Motions like this are unnecessary” He would have said. “You must simply feel it.”

Feel it. Feel it. Bullshit.

At the flick of my wrist, the vines twirled in the air, wrapping around themselves and pulling tight as they plummeted toward the ground, slamming into the beast’s back as they imprisoned him, inhibiting his movement; he let out a primal roar that shook the ground and pushed me back into the forest. I covered my ears and fell backward, unprepared for the blast of sonic energy that would be emitted from the enormous muzzle. Balthasar was better prepared; he leaped forward, dagger in hand, slamming it into the base of the spine. He must have missed, because the bear immediately began to writhe within the vine prison that I had summoned. I could hear the wood cracking, splinters flying, a rustle of fur and anger as it roared and tore through the vines, standing upright as Balthasar tumbled to the ground, barely managing to land on his feet. The thing towered above me, three stories tall and full of rage as it glared down with its yellow, glowing eyes. A paw the size of a small car flew back and then plummeted toward me, splintering trees as I froze in place, my feet planted to the ground. 

Dammit Balthasar, you were supposed to kill it!

But he hadn’t. I saw him running from the beast, making an arc, and then taking another run as the paw continued its diagonal descent toward me. I broke my panic long enough to manifest another set of black fines to my left; they tore through the ground, forming a partial dome around me; the claw slammed against them, splintering them into a million pieces but giving me the few second’s delay I needed to roll out of the way; my hand scraped against the point of a sharp rock and pain shot through me as the cut opened and closed within seconds. As I rolled, I called up another wall of vines, blocking yet another paw swipe as the world spun around me. Up became down, down became up, my side screamed in pain as I slammed into a tree trying to regain my feet.

“Balthasar!” I screamed at the top of my lungs; it was more of a curse than anything else. I scrambled to my feet just in time to see the thing’s crotch towering over me. “oh look, bear penis.”

I stumbled backward, tripping, and falling down a steep incline. My back hit the dirt first and I felt my head smash against a log embedded in the side of the hill; pain seared and then subsided as I careened downward, flipping, rolling, floating, flying, the world a mish mash of gray sky, brown dirt, the occasional gray rock, and the primal roar of one pissed off bear as it raced toward me. 

Could I die like this? I didn’t know, but even if my wounds healed quickly, decomposing in the stomach of a giant pissed off bear for all eternity couldn’t be good for the psyche. I summoned another set of vines, creating a barrier between myself and the bear as it took another swipe at me; it tore through them like paper. I was getting weaker; my first set of vines had been the strongest but as exhaustion took me, my abilities began to wane. They were considerably better than they were two years ago but I could only do so much in so little time. What could I do? I thought hard as the end of the hill came near. As I slammed into the ground and rolled off the bank of a shallow stream, I waved my bloodied hand and summoned vines; they rose from the ground, but manifested in two different colors; deep obsidian black and dark red, sprouting leaves and branches, many of the growths forming in the shape of tree trunks. The bear slammed against the wall; it shook but didn’t splinter. I heard Balthasar give a primal scream of his own as he went at the thing’s belly with his knife. The bear roared in pain, it’s head poking up over the wall and taking a swipe at me as blood sprayed from its jowls and showered me. 

“Oh screw this!” I screamed as I rose from the creek bed and outstretched my hand. In a single motion, I called forth a twisting braid of vines that shot up from beneath the bear, piercing its stomach as it rose toward the sky. The bear went with it, higher and higher until the vines reached their apex, standing still with one very dead bear impaled near the top of a forty foot braid of vines and leaves. Blood rained from the carcass, covering Balthasar in a hail of innards and bodily fluids as it slipped and slid down the vine, crashing to the ground and sending a tremor though the soil I stood on. I fell backward, into the creek. “Balthasar, what the hell?!”

“Sorry,” He called out from behind the wall of vines. “It was a tough one, wasn’t it?”

Eyes wide, I looked toward the sky at the twisting braid of vines I’d created; two feet in diameter and soaked with blood. If I hadn’t been breathless and soaked, it might have even been funny.

“Holy shitballs,” I said, dusting myself up as I rose from the creek. Physically I was fine, emotionally I was a wreck. If I had any adrenaline in my Liminal body it was coursing through my veins like soda through a gamer. I made my way forward, trekking through the tall grass and avoiding holes as I stepped around the vine wall. I saw the carcass wrapped about the tree, and Balthasar wiping the blood from his knife with a homemade cloth. 

“I will return to the village,” He told me. “We will need several to carry this back. Aye, it should feed us for months.”

“Fine,” I said breathlessly. “I’m going to stay here for a while. Leave me to die, seems to be what you do.”

“Don’t be this way, girl, you know I did my best.”

“Ever consider your best isn’t good enough, old man?”

“Aye, well, at the very least, I’m not as bad a hunter as Micah.”

I snickered, he followed, and then we both burst into laughter at the very thought of Micah trying to hunt. 

“I’d rather not even think about it,” I laughed. “Did you see him try to cook that fish?”

“Aye,” Balthasar laugh. “a fish bursting into flame is a new sight indeed.”

“Well,” I laughed. “The next time we hunt bear, we can bring him along to toss fish at the thing. Imagine, fish grenades!”

Balthasar snorted, I dropped to the ground laughing. 

“Fish grenades!” I shouted to no one in particular. 

“Aye girl, I’ll bring it up to him, if I can ever get him to stop sulking. In the meantime, off I go to fetch some people, and some carts.”

“Yes, yes, you do that,” I laughed, laying back and staring at the sky. “I’m just going to stay here for a bit.”

Balthasar walked away, leaving me to lay on the grass, next to the carcass as I stared at the clouds. I closed my eyes, trying to drift off to sleep when I heard his voice. 

“I will never understand,” The boy said. “Why you insist on using your abilities to kill my creations.”

“We have to eat,” I said lazily, keeping my eyes closed.

“There are fruits, and plants, all of which are adequate. Why bear? Why deer? Why rukon?”

“Have you ever had rukon?” I asked him.

“No,” He admitted. “I myself, do not eat. Nor do I need to.”

“Mmm…” I said. “Give it a try.”

“Perhaps,” The boy said thoughtfully. “You are getting better at this.”

I opened my eyes and raised myself into a sitting position next to the carcass. The scent of copper drifted on the wind, filling my nostrils and giving me a vivid reminder of the events that had just transpired. The boy stood a few yards away, observing the vines that I had summoned from the dirt. 

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m faster at it for sure.”

“You have also managed to fuse two different types of plant together. The vines, and a redgrave tree.”

“I had to,” I shrugged. “The vines weren’t strong enough to stop it.”

“Correct,” The boy nodded. “It is an advanced technique, one that I did not expect you to master.”

“Just mashed the two together,” I shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

“Two separate life forces,” He said. “Fused into one, it is far more complicated than it sounds. However…”

In front of us, the wall of vines disintegrated, and the ‘tree’ I’d created followed shortly after. They turned into dust, the particles taken by the wind until they’d vanished entirely. We were left there with only the dead bear, and us, and the creek.

“Fusing two life forms may seem elementary, but they expire shortly after, regardless of your skill.”

“Aways?”

“Always,” The boy confirmed. “If you have great skill, the fusing can last for much longer, years perhaps, but it will always dissipate, and it will always die.”

“Well, fortunately, I don’t really care how long they live, so long as they can kill bears,” I laughed. “say, I have a question for you.”

“I have nothing but answers,” The boy shrugged as he began to walk. I followed him along the creek-bed, moving off of the grass and onto a strip of slate rock that stretched as far as the eye could see. 

“Why do you bring people here?” 

“I do not,” He said. “People bring themselves here.”

“I didn’t bring myself here,” I argued. “I was struck by lightning.”

“Do people survive that, often in your world?” He looked to me, I raised an eyebrow. 

“Wait, are you saying-”

“I’m saying that you should not take things at face value. Regardless, I did not bring you here.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “Be as cryptic as you want.”

“I will. Have you had enough of trees?”

“That’s an odd question,” I stopped and turned to him. He grinned at me as he turned to the creek bed and observed it. The rushing water suddenly converged, rising into the air and forming into a transparent wall. A moment later, it transformed into a tornado of liquid, swirling faster and faster until finally, he released it, dropping the water back into the creek bed and splashing us both. I looked to him, water dripping from my head. “Neat party trick.”

“Elemental magic is simple here,” He explained to me. “Though it is stronger near areas where the Arctesonite is plentiful.”

“The Arctesonite?”

“The crystals that you have seen, growing from the ground,” He explained. Of course, those. I remembered the fields of crystals, jutting from the ground like stalagmites. Sometimes they were poking from the grass, sometimes they lay on what appeared to be fields of purple glass that stretched for miles, crystals as tall as buildings. 

“I thought it was part of the scenery,” I shrugged. “something you made.”

“I didn’t make everything here,” The boy said. “The Arctesonite is a natural formation. The Mah’Kur thrive on it. If they move too far away, they disintegrate, like those vines. The Arctesonite runs through all of Liminality, but weaker in spots.”

“Do…you have to be near it? And what are the Makker?” 

“Mah’Kur,” He corrected me. “To put it simply, perhaps, they were like us once, but they defied the order, and now they are bound to this place, near sources of Arctesonite.”

“Bound?”

“They do seek to leave, obviously,” He shrugged. “And if they could find a world that hosted Greater Arctesonite, it would be possible.”

“What do you mean, Greater Arctesonite?” 

“Well,” He said, plucking a stone from the round and tossing it into the stream. “The Arctesonite is strong, but if you take it too far from the source, it disintegrates, just like those vines. Greater Arctesonite doesn’t die, no matter where you take it.”

“So what you’re say if the Macaroni had Greater Arctesonite they could leave Liminality.”

“Precisely,” He nodded. “the prospect has been…concerning. They indeed found a world with Greater Arctesonite, plenty of it, and they created a portal to it. Lucky for us, they can’t get too far from the portal.”

“Hold the hell up,” I looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Are you telling me, that a bunch of creepy shadow dudes that are like you are trying to use Liminality to invade other worlds?” 

“Yes,” He shrugged. “But they will fail. They can only use the Golden Pass to reach Hybra, and past that, they cannot survive outside of Liminality.”

“How can you be so casual about this?” I demanded. “You’re talking about…about…angry bitchy shadow people invading worlds! Like…dude!”

“Why are you so upset?” He looked at me, confused. “You do understand that Liminality has been here since the inception of the multiverse itself, and this sort of thing…happens.”

“Happens?!” I practically screamed. “I pissed my bed when I was fourteen. That’s a thing that happened. I lost my virginity to a Playstation controller, that happened. A war for all creation isn’t something that just happens!” 

“Pest control,” He corrected me. “A problem that will be corrected, as it always has been.”

“How often does this happen?!”

“Once in a millennia,” He shrugged. “Perhaps less. Perhaps more. This time, the Mah’Kur, as they have so named themselves. Last time, it was the Elliracio. These things, they happen. The most important thing, is that we are near a decent vein of Arctesonite, so we should practice with water, are you ready?”

So we practiced for what seemed like hours, I managed to make the water move a bit, though I never created a water tornado. It was far more difficult than the vines; water slipped away too quickly, it was always moving. I returned to the village; the bear carcass was gone when I passed and the light was waning. By the time the buildings of our village came into sight, the sky had transitioned from the silvery expanse of day to the blackish-blue star-dotted canvas of night. The sound of waves grew louder as I walked along the cliff’s edge, skipping a bit and trying to forget what the boy had said. The boy, what did I know about him? He had said his name once. He called himself…Mock…Mockreet, that’s what it was. No, that wasn’t his name, he’d just referred to himself as ‘The Mockreet’. Was that a title? A nickname? Who knew. 

I turned and observed the open sea; the moon hung out just over the horizon, or at least what appeared to be a moon. On Earth, the moon was a rock millions of miles away in space; what would the moon be here? The same thing? Did space even exist in Liminality? Was the entire thing just a facade to placate the people who ended up here? 

“What are you looking at?” Mariel’s voice interrupted my staring as she laid her hands on my shoulders and pressed her cheek against mine. I smiled. 

“All of space and time, I guess,” I laughed. She nuzzled my cheek and moved her left hand down to my waist; I leaned into her, turning my head and planting a long kiss on her lips. 

“Where have you been all day?” 

“Hunting a bear with Balthasar,” I said. I hadn’t told her about the Boy. Only Balthasar knew, so far. 

“Yeah, he and the villagers brought it back in pieces. They’re off having a feast now. Where did you go after?”

“For a walk,” I smiled and turned, placing my hands on her waist and swaying slightly. 

“Long walk,” She grinned. “Take me next time?”

“You know it,” I promised. 

We kissed again, for longer this time, our bodies moving in time to the crashing of the waves against the rocky shore below. The moon lit her features as I pulled away; she was beautiful, and thanks to the curse of Liminality, she would stay beautiful for all eternity.

“We should get back,” She told me. “Before the creatures come.”

“They don’t always come,” I argued softly. “Just some nights.”

“But what if it’s tonight? We nearly lost Tarl last night, and the week before that, Brutus simply walked out and let them take him.”

“I know,” I sighed. “but I won’t let them take you.”

“Oh? And what will you do against them?”

“Whatever it is our flimsy cabin does to them,” I shrugged. “They’re so scary, but they can’t even break down a door.” 

She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly, to my horror, she screamed as her body jerked and blood trickled from her mouth, dripping onto her dress. My eyes went wide as her body fell slack and slid from my arms, onto the grass. As she tumbled to the ground, I beheld the form of Micah Lavoric standing there, a stone blade in his grip and a twisted grin on his face.

“You know what we would do with heretics and defilers like you, back in Slose?” He suddenly laughed. 

“Funny,” I rolled my eyes and grinned a little. “Back home they’d just call us lesbos. You know she’ll just heal, right?”

“Not if I cut her head off,” Micah smirked, stepping toward me. I froze, my grin faded. Was he serious? Theoretically, he could do it. She couldn’t heal if her body was split into pieces, could she?

“Wait, Micah,” I shook my head. “You don’t want to do this.”

He stepped toward me, the twisted grin still on his face as I began to shake. He turned the knife over in his hand, waving it dangerously as he approached me. I looked around wildly; the sea to left, the village too far to my right. I could make it there, if I ran, but what about Mariel? What could he do to her in the time he had? 

“I won’t let you do this,” I began to twitch. I could do it, I could kill him with the vines, or at least incapacitate him, permanently. Or could I? What would happen to him once the vines faded? Fortunately, I didn’t have to decide; just before he took a swipe at me, the form of Balthasar emerged from the shadows, grabbing Micah by the shoulders and swinging him hard. I watched in near amusement as Micah’s small form was flung from the cliff’s edge, plummeting through the air toward the sharp rocks at the bottom. His scream faded into the darkness as I looked to Balthasar, who shrugged.

“Are you alright?” He asked me. 

“Been better,” I said, glancing at Mariel who was writhing on the ground as her body healed from what would have been a mortal wound in any other world. “He’ll come back.”

“He won’t,” Balthasar said. “He does, we’ll cut him up, as he planned to do to Mariel. I’ll take pleasure in it.”

I turned to the cliff’s edge again, sighing as I looked out over the water, thinking about Micah, the Boy, and the power that was growing within me. 

“He’ll still be back,” I insisted. “It’s time to teach someone else to do what I do.”

“Her, you mean,” Balthasar gestured to Mariel.

“No, I was thinking you,” I glanced to Balthasar. 

“You think the Boy will go for it, then?”

“I don’t see why not,” I shrugged. “He enjoys teaching people, but…not everyone can learn. He gets frustrated I think. He likes showing people how to manipulate the world, it’s fun for him. He thinks of it as his own personal canvas and…he likes it when people play with him.”

“Play,” Balthasar said, looking out over the water. “Funny way to put it.”

“Let’s help Mariel get back to the village,” I told him as Mariel began to regain conciousness. “then we can worry about Micah.”

Off in the distance, near the tree line, the sounds of growls and snarls began to sound. They were coming. 

I was in room two-eighteen when I first noticed the pain. The girls were sitting in their circle on wooden chairs, spaced about a foot apart. Kayleigh was complaining about some formal event that she’d been dragged to. The other girls were nodding in agreement amongst the discarded classroom filled with old crusty books, stacks of parchment, and the scent of old paper permeating the air. That was when I screamed; not a loud scream, more of a squeak maybe. A small exclamation to match the small pain that had emanated at the base of my pinkie finger, and then extinguished itself just as quickly as it came. The lingering effects of my indignant squeak, however, did not. Kayleigh paused her complaining while Lilliana raised an eye brow at me. Audrey never even looked up from her book.

“Are you feeling well, Lyra?” Calliope asked me. I blinked and looked at her, wondering if the pain had simply been a figment of my imagination. Surely it was! I looked around the circle, all ten girls were regarding me curiously as I swallowed and nodded.

“I’m fine,” I confirmed. “Just…I guess I dozed off for a moment.”

“Do you find me boring, then?” Kayleigh asked me. I looked away in shame. “Should we try pottery instead?”

“No, I-”

“Lyra,” Lilliana said. “Your situation is…likely not ideal. Actually, we’ve never heard of it. Perhaps we ought talk about that.”

“Never heard of…” I trailed off, looking between her and Kayleigh to figure out exactly what was being asked of me. 

“Let us skip the bush rugging,” Kayleigh suggested. “You were born a male, though you are…obviously quite feminine now, and you have been forced to deal with living under the thumb of the most controlling woman any of us have ever heard of short of the High Lady herself. How is it that you deal with that? How does she treat you?”

“Do tell us everything,” Lilliana added. “I am quite curious.”

I froze, not really wanting to say anything, but then remembered that Sheena had essentially given me permission to participate. Finally, after a brief moment of uncomposed silence I told them about my daily routine, up to the nightly inspection where Sheena reviewed the state of my skin, nails, even my teeth. The way she drilled me on etiquette, the way she berated my eating habits. The words began to flow more freely and I noticed Sage giving me an amused, almost satisfied grin as if she were more than pleased with my plight. As I finished, Lilliana gawked at me and Kayleigh shook her head. 

“Lil,” Kayleigh turned to Lilliana. “How often does your sister, mother or…anyone give you a hygiene inspection?”

“Once a fort nite,” Lilliana shrugged. “I don’t need encouragement to stay clean.”

“Right,” Kayleigh nodded, smirking. “That all sounds…positively awful. Is it a lot to deal with then?”

“I…” I opened my mouth to speak, thinking hard on those often- cold nights presenting for Sheena who meticulously inspected my hygiene, taking visual inventory of every fingernail, every bruise, every cut, every single imperfection. The feel of cold slate beneath my feet, my body trembling as she took her time to ensure I was up to her standards. What the hell had happened? How had I gotten into this situation? When had I become so submissive? I struggled to remember a time when I had been assertive; a time before Lyra. My jumbled and fuzzy memories of The Stormveil and Liminality just wouldn’t come into focus. What about the memories before that? I remembered…something. A smell. Lemons? Nothing I could latch onto; every time I caught something, a memory, it slipped away like water rushing down a drain. So finally, I spoke.

“I…”I began again. “I feel like I can’t please her. I feel I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough. I don’t know a word or phrase to put to it. She’s what I should be but she’s what I can never be and I feel like she puts me in the know of it every time I dip bread in husproot or forget to cut my nails. I…I…I just…I’m not feminine enough for her. Sometimes I don’t even think I’m female. It’s…like I’m pretending, I-”

I stopped speaking as soon as she noticed the expressions of the other girls. Kayleigh looked to Calliope who shrugged with amusement and some of the other girls giggled. I blushed, realizing that I had said something entirely wrong.

“Now that was unexpected,” Kayleigh laughed.

“What was?” I asked defensively, ready to rise from the chair and bolt from the room.

“Even with a male background, you still react like any little sister would in this…situation. You’re more girl than I supposed,” Kayleigh looked to me with an expression that indicated she was more than a little impressed. I relaxed a little. “and regarding such, Sage had dealt with many of the same feelings, though a little less extreme, I would say. Sage?”

Sage looked at me, curling her lip; I watched Calliope raise an eyebrow and then look from her, back to me as she shifted uncomfortably.

“I…” She began. “I became orphaned when…my father was ordered killed by Micah Lavoric, the son of Lord Lavoric, of Axock. I came to Klocby and begged for sanctuary, asylum. The High Lady gave it to me, and allowed me to work in service. But…I am nowhere near the age of majority and it wasn’t too long before a nice family scooped me up, so to speak. I have two older sisters now, both of which…well…I have never…had older siblings and sometimes it is difficult for me to know what they want. When she takes me to the events, I feel like…I’m just sort of there, standing out like a sore thumb and-”

“Events?” I interrupted, and then covered my mouth, disbelieving that I actually interrupted her. Everyone looked at me.

“Little sisters often find themselves dragged to fundraisers or social events,” Kayleigh explained, frowning at me. “the composure and presentation of a little sister is…a status…thing, you understand? No, why must I explain this, surely Sheena has used you as such.”

“No…” I shook my head. “I’ve seen her go to social…things, off campus, but she goes without me…I…I don’t…um…”

“She never takes you with her, to anything?” Lilliana also frowned. I shook my head again. The other girls began to murmur amongst themselves.

“Is…she embarrassed of me?” I asked, a feeling of humiliation began to overtake me. She did love me, right? Was she trying to hide me? The girls looked at one another, Kayleigh shrugged and shook her head.

“Perhaps,” Kayleigh said. “Given your background, she is being considerate of you, and your feelings.”

“Should such be the case,” Lilliana added. “Then you have not felt the full force of her authority. She is holding back.”

“What do you know,” Calliope nudged me. “Your sister truly loves you.”

“Er…does she?” I frowned. “I guess I’m not getting the full experience….”

“Audrey here is getting the full experience,” Another girl jutted a finger at Audrey, who, as per usual was positioned just outside of the circle, her legs crossed beneath her flowing pink and white gown. Her hair was laden with bows and ribbons, the expression on her face could have killed. Her eyes flicked upward momentarily at the girl’s mention, her lower lip curled in disgust and a low growl escaped her throat. “Oh don’t be such, you know I’m just rugging you.”

The girls laughed a bit, looking from one to another with goofy grins on their faces until finally, the meeting returned to order. 

“Do you really find it so hard to believe that someone cares for you?” Calliope laid her hand on mine, I looked to it, then up to meet her eyes.

“I never said that,” I said, my voice suddenly choked.

“You say quite a bit,” Calliope said. “for only seldomly speaking.”

The meeting concluded and I found myself walking through the Octagon with Calliope, my hand in hers, our skirts swishing against one another as we took the fifth hallway, eventually standing on the long walkway heading off of the campus. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” I admitted to her. “I have the day, I think.”

“Which is as well,” Calliope said. “We ought get something to eat.”

“I am hungry…” I admitted as my stomach growled. Calliope laughed as she heard and suddenly pulled me close to her. “I still can’t believe…”

“Believe what?” She asked as I completely failed to finish my sentence. 

“Believe that…you like me…like this, as…”

“You’re a woman to my eyes,” She interjected. “But also to my other senses. Come, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” I looked her curiously. 

“Yes,” She nodded. “Come, come!”

So I went with her, holding her hand through the winding streets and past the color tapestry of human life that raked along the cobblestones, laughing amongst themselves, shouting out, bustling about with a freedom that I couldn’t imagine. What had I been like in my other life? Before Liminality? Had I been free to do as I wished? What a strange concept it was; the idea of full freedom weighed on me because even now, as I was walking the streets with Calliope, my thoughts wandered back to Sheena. I’d neve truly asked her about leaving the campus but she’d never expressly forbid it, had she? Better to ask forgiveness than permission. An informal but somehow age-old colloquialism crept into my thought as we passed through a square centered by a flowing fountain and another swathe of people. A beggar sat at the fountain, hand outstretched and largely ignored by the passers-by, while in contrast a wealthy merchant tended to his cart opposite the low stone wall encircling the water. People jostled us as we made our way through and eventually Calliope led us up a set of shaky metal stairs, to a door that led to a long hallway lined with more doors.

“Come, come,” She laughed, guiding me down the hall. The guilt began to weigh on me; Sheena had no idea where I was, and as the hallway grew more and more narrow, I never felt farther way from her than I did right now. What was I doing? Where was she taking me? My question was answered as she opened one of the doors, leading into what appeared to be a bedroom. No, a hotel. It was a hotel. Were we in a hotel?

“I rented us this room for the day, though I suppose we’ll just use it for a few hours, at most,” Calliope shrugged. 

“What, what?” I frowned, and then panicked as she pulled me into the room, the door clicking shut behind us.

“Come then,” She laughed. “Don’t play coy with me, the way you kissed me, the other day, we both have the same feelings, don’t deny it!”

“Calliope,” I warned, stepping backward, nearly stumbling over my feet. “I…have feelings but…the rest of me-”

“Oh you think I’m worried about that?” She laughed. “Aye, ‘twill make it even better!”

“Calliope-”

“You, are being ridiculous,” Calliope stepped closer to me, pressing a slim index finger against my chest; I flinched. “Is it then that you want to sit around waiting for your sister or your mother to dictate the dealings of your daily life?”

“Calliope,” I said quietly. “I don’t see a choice.”

“They dictate where we go, what we eat, who we love! I am eighteen years Lyra! Do you think I have not the will to know my own heart by now?” Calliope turned from me and made her way to the other side of the room, her skirt swished against the dilapidated bed as she stood before a soiled glass window overlooking the slums. She gave the scene outside a brief glance before turning back to me, arms folded, a stern look across her face. “and what of you? Will you bend to her whims, loving whom she says for the rest of your life?”

“I’m not going to lie, Calliope,” I said, warningly. “She’s a little scary. But, you know, there’s more happening here than just…her. I’m trying to figure myself out and this…no, I’m sorry Calliope, I can’t.”

“Do you truly hate me so much?”

“I…I don’t hate you!” I practically shouted. Down the hall, my shout was punctuated by the sound of a thud, or maybe a slam, who knew who else was in this motel? “You just…you have to understand, I have…I…I can’t do things because…”

“With me, you mean?” She frowned. “Is it my skin? Do you have Zlitians too?”

“My best friend is a Zlitian,” I scowled. “Don’t even…no. “

“Have I ever said to you, that the way you speak is strange?” She cocked her head at me. “You speak the common tongue, yet you use a dialect that I cannot place. “

“That is hardly important,” I snapped. “I’m not comfortable with my body, Calliope!”

“And why should that be?” She demanded. “A body is a body, is it not?”

“No!” As the words escaped my lips, I realized that I had absolutely no inclination to speak to her further. I scowled and turned on my heel, barging from the room, the door slamming hard against the wall as I stumbled out. The hallway was longer than I remembered; long, gray, worn out wooden doors on each side. Peeling paint, the smell of…good goddess what was that smell? All of the sensations visual and otherwise tore into me as I made my way back down the hall, rushing the way we’d come. How could she? Why did she think she had the right? I could faintly hear her shouting after me as I neared the end of the hall; a muffled voice trying desperately to penetrate the blanket of rage that had enraptured my waking conciousness. 

As I reached the middle of the hall I realized the stairs we’d used to gain entry were supplemental; a narrow wooden stair ran down the center, taking me to a brief landing capped by a wall that had clearly been punched through by some angry hotel patron. I took the corner, my skirt bunched in my hands as I held it away from my feet. Running. Running as fast as I could. How could she do that to me? How?

I sucked in breath after raggedy breath as my feet pounded against the floor. It hurt, badly; the flat black shoes I’d worn with my light green dress were never made for running; they were barely adequate for walking. My toes ground against the stiff fabric while the back of the shoe dug into my heel, threatening, or rather promising to leave an aching sore that would surely blister. 

The stair ended in a nearly empty lobby; a reception desk waited, a lone attendant standing in front of a wooden wall inlaid with vertical mailboxes. He uttered something of a greeting as I blazed past, bashing through the front double doors and onto a dilapidated cobblestone street flanked on either side by decaying, crooked buildings. I looked left, then right. Where should I go? How could I get back? I needed Sheena. I needed her. But wait, wouldn’t she be mad at me? My panic grew as I tried to make a decision. No way was the right way. I had to pick. I had to choose, even if it was wrong. I turned left and bolted beneath an overhang, past a brick facade and nearly stumbled against a ragged beggar, knocking his tin cup across the cobblestones. As I stumbled back, I looked down and a stunted scream escaped my lips; the man’s face was disfigured, two gaping, scarred holes where his eyes should have been. I slipped on the stones, falling backward and tumbling into a barrel-chested man clad in a stained leather jacket. I stumbled backward again, nearly tripping over my feet as the man looked me up and down.

“How much?” He asked me in a gravely voice. I blinked and stepped backward, the panic rising in my chest and invading the entirety of my reality as my head swiveled, looking for an exit. Walls. Walls. Sewer grate. Rushing water, voices, screaming, something tapping. “Now don’t be like that, pretty girl like you doesn’t wander into these slums on purpose! Bet you’re lookin’ to have some fun, I know I am!”

His outstretched hand reached toward me, I screamed and turned on my heel, immediately tripping on the hem of my dress and tumbling forward, slamming against the stones and splashing into a puddle; the stench of putrid water permeated my dress as I flailed and tried to regain my feet. I was vulnerable, I was just…me. There as no Sheena, no Jen, no Calliope; I was out here alone and there was no one to save me. I hadn’t felt like this, so helpless since the day I’d stood naked before Sheena and Kayla. The day I’d made the decision that would change my life forever. I hadn’t been him, I’d never been him, but I didn’t know how not to be him. She’d save me, she’d loved me, and now I’d betrayed her!

I felt a hand grip me from behind, fingers dug into my shoulders as I was jerked backward, thrown onto the cobblestones, my head slamming into the rock. Pain shot and seared through my head as a scream escaped my now bloodied lips. I could feel my arms pinned behind my back as I struggled and screamed.

“Oh do shut the bitch up!” I heard the man growl.

“Aye, don’t fret so,” I heard the voice of a woman. I jerked my head to see her standing there through blurred vision; she was Sheena’s age, maybe a little older. Black hair, soot-soiled face, a white kerchief bound in her hair. “She’ll shut her mouth soon, sure as the fen glows or she’ll be in a world o’ pain. You understand so, right girlie?”

The woman reached forward and patted my face, a twisted grin on her lips as I sobbed and squirmed against the man’s grip. 

“Let me go!” I screamed as I kicked my legs, hitting nothing but air. I barely managed to get another scream out before a fist connected with my jaw and my world blackened before I could get another sound out.

As the world faded and was replaced with the unforgiving embrace of unconsciousness, I felt rough sand rugging against my cheek. I groaned; my body felt stiff; every muscle beneath my skin screamed in agony as my labored breathing went in cadence with the lapping of waves against rocks. I was him again, I could feel it. I could sense it as I opened my eyes to behold the darkness of night. As I managed to crawl up to my knees, I fell back onto my haunches and screamed in pain, my voice barely audible over the pain that was racking my body. I could feel my limbs healing, bones cracking as they snapped back together. A laceration on my left arm fused back together, my twisted ankle snapped into place and I let out a sigh of relief as the pain subsided. 

“No,” I whispered. “I’m not him, I can’t be him, I can’t be here!” 

Was this a memory? Why was I here? 

“I…cannot be him! He’s dead!” I screamed voicelessly. 

“Do you want to be free?” A voice asked me. I started and fell forward, my hands digging into the sand and sharp rocks as I sputtered and coughed. The voice had come from a figure in front of me, walking toward me. Dark, black almost. A shadow. “Well? Would you like to be free?”

Before I could answer, the scene faded, and I found myself lying on a cold floor, my cheek to the stone in a dark room. A cellar maybe?

“Up with you girl!” The woman from before snarled. She was standing over me, the folds of her gray dress swishing about the stones in front of me. “Come come, do not make me right you myself!”

Slowly and carefully, I climbed to my feet, my face felt bruised, my limbs were spent and sore. We were in a small room, a table on the other end placed diagonally to a small fireplace. Orange flames danced and teased the darkness, partially lighting the woman’s face while leaving the other half in darkness; a specter in the darkness.

“What you think we can get for her?” The barrel chested man asked, from behind her. 

“Aye, we’ll sell her to a work house,” The woman nodded as she gripped the side of my face, forcing my mouth open so that she could inspect my teeth. “Should fetch thirty, forty.”

Work house? What was that?

“What you think of that girl?” The woman laughed and then slapped me, open palm. I fell to the floor, sprawling, banking my elbows and letting out a pained shriek. “Aye you’ll spend your days cutting cogs or working on a line. But for now, off with that dress, it’ll fetch a pretty shilling it will!” 

At her insistence, I shrugged out of my green dress and stood there shivering, whimpering in nothing but my shift. The man bound my hands behind my back and threw me to the stones. The woman laughed and planted a kick in my side, pain racked my body as sobs erupted from my mouth. What had I done? She would never find me here, I was going to die and she would never know what happened to me? I was such a worthless sister. As I laid there, shivering, crying, shaking, I felt a hand encircling mine, the fingers interlaced with mine.. I opened my eyes slightly, but no one was there. 

You are brave, A voice said to me. Whose voice? Who was talking? You are brave Lyra Rossi. Stay brave for a while longer.

A while longer. 

A while longer.

“Just let them kill me…”

“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?”

“You just now learned the word ‘shit’?” Jen gawked at her. “Are you not three and twenty?”

“Focus!” Sheena suddenly slapped her palm on the surface of the mahogany desk. “You will do well in your position and I will hear no more of it! You will report to the kitchens on the morrow, and you will speak to Marcella to begin your training!”

“Yes, First Girl,” Jen sighed and rose from her chair. “Am I dismissed?” 

“Yes, go,” Sheena waved her off and she watched the girl leave the room rather dejected, considering she had just received a promotion. Sheena smiled a little and scratched some notation in her ledger. 

“Might you ever bring some light into this place?” Aayla asked from her position near the bookshelf. Sheena shook her head and shot a grin at her childhood friend who had been sat on the chaise lounge, a thin book in her hands, and her golden locks loose about her shoulders. 

“A bad notion,” Sheena lectured her. “Tis best to keep you hidden, do you know what manner of shit I would catch if it were discovered I’d been letting my best friend in here on a regular basis?”

“Your attempts at acclimating yourself to swearing are admirable, Sheena,” Aayla said, rising form the lounge. “But I daresay you should quit as you lead.”

Sheena rolled her eyes and motioned for Aayla to take a seat near the desk. Aayla moved closer and gracefully took the seat in such a manner that made Sheena cringe as she recalled trying to teach Lyra to sit - an endeavor that had never worked.

“How does it fare, with your new sister?” Aayla asked.

“The girl can be difficult,” Sheena admitted. “But she does have a certain charm about her. A sort of adorable disobedience if you will.”

“It would take one such as you to find disobedience adorable,” Aayla grinned. Sheena laughed in response.

“I am taking to the notion that Lyra is an individual,” Sheena explained. “It has been…difficult, however, if you accept her faults and work with them, to the best of your ability, she can be quite sweet.”

“Accepting faults,” Aalya mused. “Aren’t you a revolutionary, my dear friend?”

“Have I not always been?” Sheena cocked her head. “Was it not I that convinced you to stow away on that train with me, when we were but sixteen?” 

“If by stow away, you mean run alongside it and dive into the open car like a pair of hooligans, I do indeed remember. I do hope you have not been ‘stowing away’ with Lyra.”

“Certainly not,” Sheena smiled. “Lyra will be brought up in the Rossi way.”

“On that note-”

“Yes, yes, the ballare, I haven’t forgotten,” Sheena rolled her eyes. “You know how I hate those things, Aayla.”

“Lord Radon will be there,” She suggested. “Might you-”

“I should say that Lord Radon has eyes for my sister,” Sheena interrupted. “He is far too tall for me, in any case.”

“Your sister?” Aayla raised an eyebrow. “Tell you speak not of Lyra, the girl is seventeen and has a penis.”

“Aayla-”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I have seen the girl many times and I have seen her physical changes as well. She is a girl, through and through, but does the Lord Radon enjoy sausage?”

“With mustard. Now, on the subject of the ballare, your suggestion is then that I finally involve her? Would there even be time to train her?”

“Train her?” Aayla gawked. “Dear Sheena, you had her removed from service how long ago? Has she not been taught any formal dances?”

“Truth be told,” Sheena admitted. “I deemed her unready for such social situations. The pressure is enormous, even for one that was raised in this type of environment. I think I should not expose her to such things before she is ready.”

“Nonsense,” Aayla waved her hand. “You do know that our family adopted a young orphan girl directly from service who has proved quite efficient at representing the Barrach family at social events.

“I think that is hardly fair,” Sheena objected. “Sage was-”

“Not a socialite before-”

“A quick learner then,” Sheena said firmly. “I would not describe Lyra as a quick learner. Regardless, you do have a point, she should began to fulfill her functions as a Rossi. Perhaps I have been too light on her.”

“Aye and you’re just now coming to realize it!” Aayla laughed. “Lucky for us your realization did not come too late!” 

“Aayla, I have business to attend to,” Sheena rose from the desk, closing her ledger and straightening the pile of parchment as she did so. “Another time, perhaps?”

“The ballare is in a week’s time, perhaps you could speak with Mistress Hale regarding etiquette instruction?” 

“I will not subject Lyra to the tortures of Mistress Hale!” Sheena said firmly as she stepped around the desk. “I daresay Lyra has been exposed to enough tortures for a lifetime.”

“The rod is most effective,” Aayla laughed as she followed Sheena from the office. 

Sheena left Aayla behind and entered the corridor toward the Octagon. As she reached it, she pause in the center near the pillar, then , making up her mind, she stepped to the side and entered a small door, revealing a spiral staircase made from smoky black wrought iron within a turret of stained yellow brick. She ascended the steps until she came to the second level of the Octagon, where the only working talky box in the building was inset into the wall. She popped the cover and flipped a few switches.

“Environmental dispatch,” The voice on the other end said. 

“This is First Girl, Sheena Rossi. Please fetch my sister and have her meet me in the first floor greenhouse, Vice Quadrant.”

“Yes First girl,” The girl on the other end said. Sheena could hear the panic in the girls’ voice as she realized who she was speaking to. She must have been new, perhaps. “Vice Quadrant, V-226G.”

“Correct,” Sheena said, recognizing the room designation for the Vice Greenhouse, though it didn’t truly need to be said. She close the talky box and sighed. It would take them an hour or more to find Lyra; while the girl seemed to have few interests, she did have a tendency to wander.

As she walked, she paused for moment and then returned to the talky box. She opened the cover again and snatched up the handset. With a simple flick of a switch, she opened a line to Dispatch.

“Dispatch, this is Sheena Rossi, confirm, please?”

“Sheena Rossi, confirmed, over.”

“Send Henrick to the Vice Greenouse. Please.” 

“To V-226G?” 

“Is there, another”?” Sheena asked with irritation tainting the edge of her tone. 

“No, sorry, dammit. Over.”

Sheena rolled her eyes; the operator on the other end was with Dispatch and was therefore not required to refer to her as First Girl, but somehow she became very agitated when her position was disregarded. She slammed the box shut again and stormed off, down the hallway. From the second level of the Octagon it took her a full ten minutes to walk to the entrance of the Greenhouse which was, in truth, a multi-level atrium. The glass double doors led her into an airlock positioned on the second level, the second door leading to a glass catwalk that ran the perimeter of the dome. Plants of all varieties could be seen in hanging baskets and planters affixed to the railing as she passed beneath patches of bright sunlight poking through the day’s overhead clouds. On a bright day, this greenhouse was resplendent, with prismatic, multicolored reflections and warmth, but today, it felt cold, and that was just as well. Down on the first level, the trickle of water could be heard, running into the faux waterfall that led to the first floor koi pond which took up a vast majority of the area; Sheena poked her head over the railing and she could see him there, standing on the stone walkway nearest the pool, nearly hidden by a small tree at the foot of the water. She let out a sigh and continued her walk toward the nearest stair; an unnerving construction with glass treads, tempered, she supposed. He heard her descending and did a half turn to glance at her as she approached on the path between two bushes that rugged at her knees before she emerged by the pool. She stood for a moment and observed the koi beneath the crystal clear waters; fish of all different color, shapes and sizes. 

“First Girl,” Henrick said, quietly. Sheena took her attention from the pool and focused on Henrick. He was perhaps two years her junior, past the age of majority but still wet behind the ears, so to speak. His hair was a deep brown, a bit longer than the other serving boys, but he hid it well by keeping it greased. His skin, an odd mixture of the Zlitian white and the pale orange of Oniodale. He shifted nervously and bit his lower lip as she approached; he was always so intimidated by her. He regarded him indifferently as she held her hand out and accepted the gray folder from him. Opening the cover, she began to read the extensive report; it was split into sections, each section separated by date with some that were longer than others. 

“She went to room 218 today,” Sheena observed. “Alone?”

“No First Girl,” Henrick said, shifting and wringing his hands. “She was with someone I didn’t recognize.”

“So she made a friend,” Sheena nodded. “And you are endeavoring to learn the identity of this friend?”

“Yes, First Girl,” Henrick nodded. “It is difficult because-”

“Because you cannot simply walk up and ask her, yes, I appreciate your candor and your discretion, please understand that.”

“Yes, First Girl,” Henrick blushed. “First Girl I-”

“Yes, Henrick?” She looked up from the report and studied his face. Something was on his mind. 

“I think…I think. um…” The boy shifted again, his knuckles white from the wringing and his face beginning to pale. If he staggered any more, he was likely to fall into the koi pond. 

“Henrick,” Sheena pressed. “Out with it, what is it you wish to say? Do you have news of my sister?” 

“No,” Henrick said quickly. “I…I think I’m ready. For that which we spoke of.”

“Ready?” 

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Henrick said suddenly, taking a stumbling step backward. “I shouldn’t bother you with this, I’m sorry-”

“Henrick,” Sheena said in a commanding voice. “You will never presume to know what it is in my mind. Stop your stammering and walk with me, that is a command from your First Girl.”

“Yes, First Girl,” Henrick stiffened but somehow managed to fall in step beside Sheena as they walked alongside the pond.

“Lyra was a test case,” She explained. “A test case that perhaps shouldn’t have worked. It worked because she behaved as a girl from the first day. Because she was humble, and partially because she was afraid. I will tell you this, Henrick, if we go through with this, then your position will be far lower than it is now. Any seniority you had will be stripped, your life will begin a new and you will listen to what you are told, are you with me, Henrick?”

“Yes, First Girl.”

“Furthermore, Henrick, Lyra is not your mentor. You will not seek advice from her, because she has none for you. She is a girl troubled and one that must learn herself. Are you still with me?”

“Yes, First Girl.”

“Finally, there are many rules to your new life, but the most important, is that if you make this decision, you will not back out. I will not have people moving back and forth on a whim. You will be what you are, is that clear?”

“Yes, First Girl. I…I am prepared for the consequences.”

“Then, Henrick, I must ask you a pressing question,” Sheena stopped walking and turned to Henrick, blocking the path as she folded her arms. Between the cadence of her statements, only the sound of the trickling water could be heard as Henrick regarded her, nearly breathless as his heart pounded within his chest. “Are you afraid?”

“…First Girl?” He said, at almost a whisper.

“You find yourself in a perilous situation and while it is not unique to you, the uncertainty can be overwhelming, so answer me this. Are you afraid, Henrick?”

“I…” Henrick stopped, a frown on his face as he contemplated the meaning of that question. His features began to soften and Sheen could see a wetness begin to form at the edge of his eyes as he nodded slowly.

“Then,” Sheena said. “it is my duty, as the first among the servants of the House of Jenwise, that you needn’t be. Your fear is justified but unfounded. The days ahead of you will be difficult, and the need to prove you worth will be ever present, but for so long as you perform your duty, my protection extends to you, as it does to the other girls in the service of the High Lady. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I do,” He nodded, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

“Follow,” She motioned for him to join her on the path. He fell in step just slightly behind her as they made their way to the doors of the atrium. She wondered about Lyra for a moment and then shrugged. Her sister would find her. “What do you do now, Henrick?”

“I…I work the motor pool, First Girl,” He said quickly. “The…cars.”

“I see,” Sheena said, quickening her pace as they moved toward the Octagon. Somehow, Henrick managed to keep up. “I have removed my girl, Jenise from sanitation. You will take her place once your training is complete.”

“Sanitation…” Henrick stopped walking, freezing as Sheena continued her walk down the hall. She stopped and turned to eye him. “First Girl…you mean, cleaning latrines? I work in the motor pool, First Gir-”

“Is there a problem, Henrick?” Sheena demanded. “This is what you asked for, and now you will play by the rules, is that understood?”

“Yes, First Girl,” Henrick relented and managed to stumble over to her as she continued walking. Sheena rolled her eyes and gestured toward the door that began the walk to the servant’s quarters. “First…girl…this is…”

“Yes, the female servant’s quarters,” Sheena said quickly. “You do understand what you’re signing up for?”

“I have…things, in the other quarters, first girl,” He said hurriedly as she rushed him through the doors. 

“Such as?”

“Well my clothes, and a few books-”

“Funny,” Sheena snorted as they walked down the narrow hall, past the steady arc lamplight until they reached the end, which opened into a small lunch room with two tables, a basin, and a counter lining the wall. At one of the tables, a girl, Nicola sat reading a book. “Nicola, Henrick has made his…or should I say her decision.” Henrick blushed immediately at the pronoun usage but voiced no objection. 

“Fantastic,” Nicola said, not even bothering to look up. “Henrick, dear, I have a chapter to finish, sit at the other table, please.”

“This is where we part, Henrick,” Sheena gestured to the other table where Henrick nervously took a seat, still wringing his hands and now looking down at his feet rather than daring to meet the eyes of either women. 

“Sheena,” Nicola said, turning a page. “They want you on the talky.” 

“Tell them I’m meeting my sister, I’ll be with them soon,” Sheena told her.

“It’s about your sister,” Nicola informed her. 

Sheena frowned and turned to the wall, yanking the box and pulling out the handset. 

“Dispatch, this is Sheena Rossi?”

“Sheena, this is Dispatch, there’s a girl to see you, at Entrance H-AB2, we put her in the interview room.”

“Interview room?” Sheena raised an eyebrow. “The one that locks?”

“She put up a fuss when we wouldn’t tell her where you were.”

“I’ll be right over.”

The walk to the H-ABT 2 entrance, like most other transit within the campus truly did not take long. It differed in that the path involved crossing a long footbridge overlooking a transit hub. The noise from the crowd below filled her ears as a crippling anxiety began to overtake her. Who was here to see her? What could they possibly want? What did they know about Lyra? The walk across the bridge could not have gone any slower; she pushed past people, bumped into the railing, and tried to speed her walk as much as possible while the feelings of anxiety rose in her chest. Lyra. What was happening with Lyra? The birdge ended and she finally found herself in H-ABT 2, which was commonly known as ‘The Crow’ for its deep black walls and brief staircase that led to the aviary. Well, not quite to the Aviary, but a good starting point. 

“Sheena,” A man named Keen greeted her. The security guard for the Crow. “This girl…she came to see you, ranting about your sister. I have her in this room, over here. Been in there for an hour give or take. Probably give.”

“Thank you, Keen,” Sheena nodded. “Show me.”

The girl was far smaller than Sheena, perhaps Lyra’s size, maybe a little bigger. She was Zlitian, like Jenise, but but far darker hair and the typical deep red yes. She was dressed simply, in a white chemise with a laced blue overdress that looked as if it had seen better days. The stains on her sleeves did not escape Sheena’s visual assessment, nor did the disheveled state of her hair. As she entered, the girl lookeed up to her, wide eyed from her position at the small metal table.

“Sheena Rossi,” She gasped, paling as much as she possibly could. “I-”

“You said you were here about my sister,” Sheena said, an air of hostility to her voice that could not be overlooked. “Speak words, girl. My patience is thin as is.”

“I…I misunderstood,” The girl said. “I thought we were…I thought that she liked me.”

“Liked you? As in you were together?”

“Yes,” She nodded. “I’m sorry you weren’t informed but-”

“Where is Lyra?”

Calliope told the story with Sheena becoming more agitated with every passing moment. Finally, as the last of the story was told, Sheena pursed her lips and then gritted her teeth. 

“And you saw them take her?” Sheena demanded. “And what did you do to stop them?”

“Nothing, I…I didn’t know what to do. Just ran.”

“How long ago was this?” Sheena leaned forward, placing her palms on the table and moved her face closer to Calliope’s. “How long ago did you let them take my sister?”

“It was…half past eleven, Miss Rossi.”

“And it is three and thirty now. More than hour hours. And you just now decided to come here?”

“I’m sorry, I was afraid,” She shook her head, the tears beginning to flow. “I thought-”

“Ah, you ought be afraid,” Sheena growled. “And when I’m done with you-”

“Please,” Calliope begged. “I’ll do what I must, I submit myself to your service, Sheena Rossi. I’ll do what it takes to-”

“We’ll get that in writing-” Sheena pointed at her as she backed up, toward the talky box, opening it up and pulling the handset from the wall. “Dispatch, this is Sheena Rossi. Inform the High Lady that Lyra Rossi, Daughter of Martin and Collen Rossi has been abucted. Send everyone.”

2 Years Ago

38 Years Before the Fall of Hybra

“Do you want to be free?” The voice asked him again. Micah rubbed his eyes, shivering in the cold of the incoming surf, his battered hands finally beginning to heal. The fall had shattered nearly every bone in his body, and conscious, he’d been forced to endure the ethereal mending as they creaked and snapped back into place. That was the thing about Liminality, wasn’t it? It wouldn’t let you die no matter how badly you wanted it. Once you were here, you were here to stay, writhing and wriggling around in the belly of the beast as it consumed you and allowed madness to overtake you. “Well?”

“Well what?” Micah demanded as he worked his way to his feet. He placed a lacerated-but-healing hand against a stalagmite of jagged rock jutting from the beach, breathlessly pressing his weight against it. The figure was a little more clear now; before it had seemed to take the form of a slender shadow, but now it was more solid, more human. It certainly still had that dark aura to it, but was quickly becoming tangible. The thing looked at him, Micah could almost see traces of a smile stretched across its face in the moonlight, or so he thought at least. “Are you one of the ‘shadow people’ they keep yammering on about up there?”

The thing tilted its gaze upward as Micah jerked a thumb toward the top of the cliff, hundreds of feet above. A harsh wind grazed the beach, sending a shiver down Mica’s spine as his tattered military jacket flapped about his waist.

“Quite a fall,” The thing observed.

“Well,” Micah smirked. “It was easier than walking around.”

“Efficient,” The thing agreed. Micah noticed now that its voice sounded hollow, like an empty drum beaten with a stick. He paused, waiting for the thing to speak again, perhaps follow it up with something, but it stood there in silence, not even looking to him expectantly. Micah stole a glance toward the water, briefly taking in in the long reflection of the moon as it was disrupted by the crashing waves at regular intervals. There was so much about this place that reminded him of home but at the same time it couldn’t have been more alien.

“Who are you?” Micah finally asked. The thing looked away, toward the water.

“I go by many names,” The thing said. “And I have seen many things.”

“You speak in riddles,” Micah said accusingly. “Refreshing, I suppose, given the stupidity of most here.”

“Who I am is complicated,” As it spoke, Micah could clearly see the grin. “He calls me ‘The Other’, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Who is he?”

“There’s a word in our language,” The thing explained. “it describes this place. In the common language we made for you, it’s ‘Liminality’, the space between. In our language, we call it ‘Reet’. Means the same really, ‘in-between’. There are few of us who can move in between, to pass between the ‘Reet’ and, well…everything else. It was just me, before now, you see. To make the journey between, we call it ‘The Mock’. All sorts of complicated.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Micah demanded. “What are you?”

“What I am, is your ticket out of here,” The thing finally rose, taking on a more human form. It looked like a man, perhaps in his mid-thirties. Black hair, a mustache, fairly thin. “I can tell something about you, something important. You’re from that place, the world that has exactly what we need. Let me tell you something, child. We brought the gateway to your world, but we can’t move far from it. That’s something you can help us with, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Micah nodded. “You…refer to the mines of Jybaltin, do you not?”

“Piddly little example,” The man scoffed. “We’ve allowed your people to trade, to mine, and give us a cut of their findings. Steady supply, but we need more. We need all of it, you understand. When the Mah’Kur can leave Liminality, they can go anywhere.”

“What a concept,” Micah smirked as he took a step toward the water. “And you believe there is more of this…mineral on my world?”

“Greater arctesonite is plentiful on your world,” The man confirmed. “In a place that we cannot reach. You can.”

“Can I?” Micah mused. “Pray tell, where is it?”

“The largest vein I’ve found? Beneath a little place you call Auglire.”

“Klocby,” Micah laughed. “And you want me to help you get it. Tell me, specter, what would be in it for me?”

“Your freedom, obviously,” The man shrugged. “But also, the victory that your father seeks. We provide the greater arctesonite we have on hand, your father uses them to power his machinations. You take Klocby for us, and we both get what we want.”

There was a long pause as Micah considered the words that the thing had said. A soft breeze and the crash of waves broke the silence at intervals as the night waned on. The situation began to stew in his mind; he had left Axock two years ago seeking victory for his father, a way to breach the Stormveil. To prove that he was more capable than his sister. If this thing spoke truth then he had not only achieved that goal, but also truly set himself upas the next heir to the throne. He could imagine Robin’s face upon hearing the news. Forever in the shadow of Micah Lavoric, the man who had tamed the Mah’Kur.

“It will take time,” The man said. “He will try to stop us, to exert his will onto us. We must be prepared, to do what we must. You understand, he exiled us here, the rest of us, we can’t travel the Mock. Won’t happen. They can’t even take ten steps from Hybra.”

“But you can?”

“Indeed,” the man nodded, a small expression of pride beginning to creep onto his face. “I am, in fact, the only one.”

“And you can prepare me? How?”

“I will make you like me. You will cross the Reet, you will transcend space, and time, commune with arctesonite itself.”

“I see,” Micah chewed over the thought. “Very well, specter, and what shall I call you?”

“I go by many names, one that your human tongue could never pronounce, and some call me Parsifal. You may call me, The Mockreet.”

I came to life gradually, becoming acutely aware of sandstone beneath my cheek and the sensation of heat from the near-burning fire. I squinted, trying to will the throbbing sensation of pain from my head; a full blown headache that had made camp at the back of my skull. Reluctant to move my head, I explored the room with my eyes; a wooden table near the stone fireplace, a shelf filled with seemingly useless odds and ends, a wooden footlocker near a door that may or may not lead to the outside. I took a visual inventory of every item in the room as I tried to stave off the fear that was quickly growing within me. Where was I? What did they want with me? The woman had said something about a work house, hadn’t she? A work house…I tried to recall my memories but life on the campus didn’t provide much insight. Furthermore, my memories of Axock were fading faster than I wanted them to. Emptied of memories; was there a scarier concept than that? Death was nothing compared to the prospect of losing one’s entire identity. I bit my lip and tested my wrists, trying in vain to separate my hands, but they were bound firmly behind my back; no amount of squirming and twisting would free them and the rope cut mercilessly into my skin as I tried. My feet though, my feet were unbound; not that that would do me any good. Instead, I inhaled heavily and worked my way up, using all of my effort to raise myself into a sitting position. It was difficult and by the time I managed to force myself upright, the front of my shift was soaked with sweat and my legs were rubbed raw against the sandstone. A cough escaped my lips, tearing through my parched throat and further exacerbating the throbbing pain in my head as tears burst forth, rolling down my dirt-caked cheeks. 

“Girl’s awake,” The voice of the barrel-chested man carried through the space like doom itself; I froze as I realized I wasn’t alone; he was sitting on a stool near the fire - I could see his outline now and wondered how I’d managed to miss it before. His declaration was followed by the sound of plodding footsteps on a brief set of wooden steps to my left. The woman, now in a light brown dress, descended into the cellar and stood over me as I rolled my head back slowly and gave her an exasperated look. Her hair was still bound in the white kerchief, black and oily, long bangs framing a round, lightly scarred face. In her hands she held a wooden tray, which she set down in front of me. I glanced half-heartedly at the tin cup and wooden bowl set haphazardly on the tray. Soup? A piece of bread? I looked from the tray, up to her, then to my legs which were sprawled out on front of me. 

“If I loose your hands, you gonna try anything?” She demanded of me. I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, the headache was really beginning to sear into my skull. Why couldn’t she shut up? “Oh, what’s this then, you going to cry little girl?”

I shook my head; she sneered and snatched a handful of my hair, jerking me forward as a low yelp escaped my lips. Then came the knife, slicing swiftly through the bindings and freeing my hands. My wrists throbbed and I struggled to make my fingers work as I grasped each wrists in front of me, trying to massage them as my mind began to wander. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Goddess if I could take it all back; I’d failed her. Failed my sister and this was the consequence, wasn’t it? 

“Y’gonna eat or not?” The woman demanded. 

“Aye, if she won’t eat might well force it down her throat then,” The man said. “Old Jaf likes it when they can work straight outta the gate.”

“Old Jaf would buy a girl with no arms or legs, ‘sposing she was useful,” The woman smirked.

“Your mind goes places, Greta,” The man took a long pull on a bottle, the glass glistened in the firelight. “What we do here, it’s bad enough without you…you know.”

“In for a shilling,” Greta smirked, kicking the tray toward me. “Eat up girl, mayhap the last good meal you get for a time.”

I stared at the tray, my eyes beginning to glaze over as a throbbing pain began to overtake my wrists. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t want anything. Sheena. I’m so sorry Sheena. Greta growled and snatched the piece of bread from the tray, stepping toward me shoving it past my lips as she took another handful of my hair. I choked, nearly spitting it out onto the floor as she released my hair and brought her hand down onto the back of my skull.

“I said eat!” She said sharply. “Ain’t ta’ have you starving yourself before Old Jaf lays eyes on ye!”

“You do understand,” the man said. “that the girl can’t eat if she’s choked. If you’ve her dead on the floor how much is she worth to you?”

“Quiet your mouth, Arn,” Greta snapped. “I’ll deal with defiance in ways I see to. If the girl wants to rugg me I’ll rugg her back.”

“As you see it,” Arn said with a resigned sigh. He took another pull on his bottle as I struggled to breathe, eventually managing to sit up back up and nibble at the bread as she glared at me, hands on her hips. “But also as you see it, you ain’t to feed your boy without a payout.”

“What’s that then?” Greta demanded, turning to Arn. “Mind you keep my son out of your mouth!”

“All’s in my mouth is a bit of liquor, and even that’s wanting,” Arn shrugged. If I hadn’t been completely terrified I might have rolled my eyes. “You ought ask the obvious, seein’ as the girl was dressed fine.”

“Aye? you think she’s someone?”

“Could it hurt to ask?”

Greta turned to me, a look of suspicion about her face as her eyes bored into my soul.

“Who are you, girl?” She demanded. “You worth something?”

“No,” I shook my head, confused. 

“Spawn of some noble? Someone would pay for you?”

I shook my head again. What was she talking about? 

“I’m just…Lyra,” I said confused, my voice quivering. “What do you want with me?”

“Want you to eat,” Greta snapped. “Then you’ll get to work. Mights well do some such for us before we get some shilling from your hide.”

I choked down what was left of the food, barely even taking time to notice that the ‘soup’ was barely even soup at all. Rather, it was just a watery concoction with a few mixed vegetables floating around in it. As I finished, Greta pulled me to my feet and dragged me to a wash basin tucked away in the corner of the room, behind Arn who still sat at the table nursing his bottle.

“Aye, take care of these dishes,” Greta snapped, throwing the empty tray into a bin of murky water. “Then you can see to the floor, got a year of dust on it just waiting for you.”

“Mind you don’t break her, Greta,” Arn sighed. “I keep tellin’ you-”

“And I keep tellin’ you to shut up!” Greta sat at the table beside Arn, wooden stool dragging across the stones as I tried to focus on the task in front of me. I kept my eyes front as I rugged a dirty rag across the surface of a tin place, hands soaked in dirty ice-cold water. As they made idle conversation, I searched my immediate surroundings with my eyes, doing my best to find some way to escape. What did I know so far? From my poor vantage point, I could see a set of stone steps to my left beneath a shoddy arch framed with brass. I knew that behind me was the table, the flickering fireplace, a high window set into the wall, too high for me to climb out, too high to see out of. Where did it go? to the street? Yes, we were in a cellar, underground. In front of me, a set of three shelves set into the wall, wooden, stained, their contents nearly invisible save for a few glimpses of brass and tin illuminated by the leaping, crackling flames at my back. 

“Any word from Marcus?” Greta asked Arn. I could hear him shrug. 

“As much as can be expected,” Arn told her. “as much as you’d ‘spect to hear about any of them.”

“Hear about plenty of them,” Greta scoffed. “Hear about them dead in the pits, hear about them shipped off to Axock. Hear about them shot dead in the streets.”

“Ain’t heard about Ched, and not hearin’ means he’s not laid out somewheres. I’ll count the blessing’s the Goddess gave me, if you not be minding.”

“I mind,” Gretta growled. “I mind that his life’s to be snuffed out for somethin’ so small as not payin’ a tax no one ever agreed to.”

“By the same,” Arn said. “He knew what it is he was steppin’ into. He knew that buyin’ from smugglers instead of respecting the High Lady’s tariffs was gonna see him done in the end. Just as what it is we do is gonna see us done. You can see it now Greta, all this, it comes to an end whether we wish on it or not.”

“It ain’t ta’ end so long as we’ve kids to sell,” Greta said. “Unless it be that your feet are feelin’ the chill?”

“Could be so,” Arn shrugged. I listened intently as I scrubbed a tin cup and set it aside. “Could be that I’m thinkin’ bout what if it’d be your boy?”

“I told you to stop bringin’ him up,” Greta said, irritated. “‘sides, never going to be him.”

“You ain’t to know that,” Arn said, exhasperated. “Besides-”

I don’t know what overcame me, but I knew that it was either this moment, or none at all. I bolted to the left, toward the brief set of stone steps leading to the surface. I barely heard the shout of surprise as Greta and Arn jerked, rising from the table and kicking their wooden stools across the stone floor. My feet moved, one in front of the other, the ascent of each step seeming to take a lifetime. It was as if I were trapped in a dream where I needed to run, but my legs simply wouldn’t cooperate. Running through mud, doing my best to lift each knee but failing miserably. The wooden door at the top of the steps came closer and closer as the rugging footfalls of my captors sounded clumsily across the floor. I could practically feel Arn’s breath on the back of my neck as my footfalls sounded against the tread.

My hand was on the doorknob, I fumbled with it, twisting and groaning as I tried to release the latch. The door opened outward and I stumbled from the cellar and into an almost spartan-bare room with a table, a few chairs, and scattered dishes across a basin counter. I didn’t stop, I shot past the table, my eyes searching desperately for an exit. Not finding one, I settled for rushing through an archway into the next room which wasn’t quite as bare as the last, but rather it was filled with barrels and crates stacked against the wall, sprawling outward to create a narrow path that was barely navigable. My eyes searched the space, eventually traveling upward to see high ceiling lined a rickety wooden catwalk along tan and brown walls. This place, what was it? It wasn’t a house, was it some kind of storage facility? I warehouse? 

“Lyra,” A voice said suddenly. I froze briefly, looking for its origin. It was barely a whisper, maybe I’d imagined it. I pushed forward, barreling through the pathway between the crates, ducking behind a corner. I could hear the footsteps of both Greta and Arn as they approached the mouth of the barrel maze and my eyes went wide as I realized I had only seconds to make a decision. They would find me and this time there would be no escape. 

What do I do?

Where do I go?

“Lyra,” The voice came again. “This way.”

Felt a cold, invisible hand take mine and less than gently pulled me further into the maze. 

“Duck!” The voice said; I immediately complied, ducking behind a crate just as Arn ran by, a glint of metal in his hand. 

“Ain’t no use hiding!” Arn shouted. He slammed his fist against one of the crates; I felt the reverberation of the wood in my soul. 

“I’ll skin you alive!” Greta screamed at the top of her lungs. “I’ll gouge your eyes out an’ make you eat em’! You don’t need your eyes where you’re goin!”

“Aye, that’ll make her come out,” Arn said with mock encouragement. 

“This way Lyra,” The voice whispered. I turned my head in the direction of the disembodied voice and saw that there was a gap between the crates. I swiftly crawled through, my sides scraping the wood noisily as I emerged onto the other side. I was stuck up against a wall, and toward the center of the room I heard the sound of wood splintering.

“Greta lay down that sledge!” Arn snapped. “You mean to break the girl’s spine?”

“She won’t need no spine!” Greta snapped. “Old Jaf’s just gonna need a torso at this point!”

“Climb,” The voice whispered to me softly. I turned my head and saw it; an old ladder set into the wall. Not really a ladder - just handholds. I looked up into the darkness and saw that the handholds led up to the catwalk, through a gap in the center. “You are brave, Lyra, be brave a little longer.”

Be brave a little longer. I could do that. I could do that. 

I grabbed the handhold and pulled myself up, my back rugging against the rough wood as I ascended into the darkness. Slowly, carefully, one hand, then the other. Up, up, up. I could do this. I could do this.

“She’s up there!” I heard Greta shriek as I reached the halfway point. I quickened my pace, but nearly froze as I heard the sound of the sledge slamming against a crate.

“Just move it out o’ the way, Greta!” Arn said angrily; I heard the sound of wood scraping against stone , followed by a crash. Arn was below me, his feet on the ladder. My heartbeat quickened, my palms began to sweat as I continued my ascent. I was lighter than he was, that was my only advantage. 

“Kick.”

I heeded the words of the disembodied voice and drove my foot downward, right into Arn’s face. He cried out and dropped, but as I looked down, I could see him snatching the next handhold before he could plummet all the way to the ground. I gasped and pulled myself through the gap, sprawling across the surface of the catwalk. My body ached and the wood creaked as I worked my way to my feet, looking desperately for something, anything. Where had I gone? Where was I going to go? How did this help me? I could hear Arn struggling with the handholds, Greta screeching, my own heartbeat pounding in my chest. 

“Door!” 

There was a door on the other side of the catwalk, small; Arn would probably have to duck to get through it. I took off running, barreling down the catwalk, my feet thudding against the wood. Each of my footfalls elicited a tired creek from the wood as the tension pulled against aging supports set into the ancient wall. I turned the corner, sharply and caught a glimpse of Arn mounting the catwalk in his delayed pursuit. Greta was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed the door handle, actually it wasn’t even a handle, just a horizontal bar laid into a pair of old brass brackets. I twisted it, rotating the latch upward and slamming it to the right. As I did, the door drifted open slightly. I pushed it, hard, and emerged onto a rooftop. The slums laid out in front of me, dozens, no, hundreds of rooftops laid out in an uneven cascade as far as the eye could see. Buildings connected with electrical wires, lights sparsely bringing sections of the city to life, the distant buzz of laughter and conversation in the night beneath a blanket of of stars. The roof laid out in front of me, leading to a gaping hole presumably dropping to the sidewalk. 

“Jump.”

It made no sense, why would I jump? Wouldn’t I die? What was waiting for me down there in the blackness? No, I didn’t know for sure; I pictured myself tumbling downward into the cold, into the black, my bones cracking and shattering as I came into contact with the rough cobblestones. I could do that or I could stand here, waiting for Arn to burst through that door, waiting to be dragged back into that cellar. My hands bound, my mouth gagged as I awaited my fate. But now, right here in this moment I was free. In this moment I could make the decision.

“Jump.”

Jump. I had to jump. No, I couldn’t jump! I didn’t know how high up I was!

“You are brave, Lyra!” The voice hissed with more urgency this time. The night roared as I lurched forward. My ears registered the sound of Arn bursting through the door and Greta’s continual shrieks as she followed him. “Be brave for a while longer!”

My feet carried me onward, to the edge of the roof, and I hesitated only briefly, teetering on the edge as I looked down into the blackness. 

“Be brave.”

Closing my eyes and sucking in a breath, I jumped, tumbling into the blackness, toward my fate. Toward my death.

“I’m sorry, Sheena.” 

3.5 Years Earlier - Springfield Ohio

I woke up, screaming again, but this time against the sound of the pounding rain against the side of our tin trailer. Raising myself into a sitting position against the wall, I breathed heavily amid the stench of sweat permeating my mattress, and something else pooling about my legs. I groaned at the sensation of warmth and the realization that I would have to wash the sheets before he noticed. God I hated him. Outside my window a blinding storm raged; rain sailed through the air in sheets like an elemental curtain signaling the end of the show, constantly illuminated by flashes of intermittent lightning, a peek at the man behind the curtain.

I collected my strength and pulled myself out of the bed, my feet greeting the cold as they connected with my checkered linoleum floor. With another deep breath, I turned and gathered my sheets, carefully opening the door to the hall and peeking out. A long stretch toward the living room but before that, our little laundry room tucked into a nook behind the wall. Lightning flashed again, casting the hallway and the room beyond in an eerily washed-out light for a brief moment, bring into view the old couch and the kitchen counter just behind it.

I walked through the hallway amidst the flashes and the hammering of torrential rain, turning to my right to enter the laundry nook. As quietly as humanly possible, I opened the lid to the washing machine and dropped my sheets in. Adding some detergent, I close the lid and twisted the knob. The low hum of the machine sounded as the mechanism began to turn and I stepped away, taking a sharp turn into the darkened living room. Well, it was either go lay on my bare mattress or try to entertain myself for the hour or so while I waiting for my sheets to wash and dry. Instead of resigning myself to flopping down on the itchy fabric of my bed, I stepped over to the computer nestled into the corner of the room. An older laptop, it took a full five minutes to boot to the desktop. I tapped my fingers while I waited, listening to the rain outside as the ‘Windows’ Logo came into view. Finally, the desktop appeared and I double clicked on ‘Skype’ Icon. Kelly was online, as usual. I brought up her message box and began to type.

Lyra: yo bitch u there?
Kelly: : lol where else would I be at 3 in the morning?
Lyra: : ummmm sleeping? XD
Kelly: : too busy stalking darren’s FB page lol
Kelly: : and whitney’s over here too
Lyra: : he’s not good enough for you.
Kelly:: yeah well he’s got the curve?
Lyra: the curve?
Kelly: yeahhhhh you know. Down THERE
Lyra: Huh?
Lyra: oh. EW. KELLY NO
Kelly: yeah sorry i forget u don’t lkike to talk about that lol
Lyra: spelling?
Kelly: u first bitch
Lyra: can’t talk long probab;y. mom’s boyfriend gets mad if people exist around him
Kelly: does he know?
Lyra: know what?
Kelly: u know
Lyra: does he know I have a dick? prolly not. he’s not that smart.
Kelly: he doesn’t have to be smart to know if u have a dick
Lyra: if he gets close enuf to know i have a dick we have bigger problems. Besides, i look enuf like a girl. Small for my age remember? hair helps lol

The conversation continued for another twenty minutes probably until I heard the washer switch off. I closed out the messenger and stepped across the living room, lifting my knees and prancing around the furniture as if I were playing ‘the floor is lava’. In the laundry room I pulled the wet sheets from the washer and started to deposit them in the dryer, but as I opened it, found that it was full of socks. I cursed silently and laid the sheets on top of the washing machine as I fished the socks out and dropped them into a nearby laundry basket.

“Now just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jerald’s voice evoked a near-heart attack as I stood and whirled about to see him standing in the doorway. He was an imposing, intimidating man. Dirty blonde hair in a comb over, accompanied by rough features that were not quite visible in the dark. Lightning flashed again, bringing just enough light to illuminate his terrifying muscular features. I gritted my teeth and gestured to my sheets.

“Sheets were sweaty,” I told him as nonchalantly as I could. “Had to wash them. Wasn’t gonna sleep in stinky sheets.”

“Why’s the computer on?” He demanded, still blocking the exit to the cramped space. I tensed and considered my options. This probably wouldn’t turn into anything, but had he been drinking? I sniffed the air; couldn’t smell any alcohol. Didn’t mean anything though, maybe he mainlined breath mints before he went to bed.

“Was checking my e-mail,” I shrugged, trying to avoid a defensive tone as much as possible. This was my house, not his. I could check my e-mail at three in the morning if I wanted.

“No one should be on the computer at three in the morning,” He snapped. “Ain’t nothing but no good you could be up to. I’m putting a password on that thing, I don’t want you on it.”

“Excuse me? ” I demanded as he began to walk toward the laptop. “We’ve been using that computer since before you got here! Mom and me both! It’s not yours!”

“In case you haven’t noticed little missy,” He said angrily as he closed the laptop and picked it up. “I’m here now and things is gonna change! Ain’t gonna be no more late night ‘washing the sheets’, and no more using the computer. In fact, I’m gonna look through your messages, see what kind of dirty shit you’ve been sending.”

I froze, my heart nearly stopping in my chest. He couldn’t read those messages. Everything I’d ever sent to Kelly was on that computer. Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, my eyes tracked him and the laptop as he paced the living room, shouting obscenities and ultimatums. This wasn’t his house, he had no say! And yet…

“Jerald, what’s going on?” My mother emerged from the back of the trailer, wrapped in a ‘fluffy’ white robe that had seen better days.

“Lyra’s sneaking around again,” Jerald said, his tone implied that he was nearing the end of this ‘patience’, if there ever was any to begin with.

“I ain’t sneaking around!” I shouted in protest. “This is my house, mom! Our house! He ain’t got no say, sides I was washing my sheets!”

“And toolin’ around on the computer!” He interjected, dropping the laptop onto the kitchen counter. “ain’t no one up to no good, bein’ on the computer this late! You doin’ illegal stuff? Lookin’ up pornography?!”

“No more than you,” I snapped. “Mom, tell him he ain’t got no say!”

I looked to my mother expecting her to say something, anything, but she simply emitted a soft sigh and turned, disappearing down the hallway, back to the shared bedroom. I gritted my teeth as I watched her, disbelieving, and then flicked my eyes to the black Acer laptop sitting on the edge of the counter. It was my only chance; as Jerald opened his mouth to continue his rant, I lurched forward, wrapping my fingers around the edge as he moved to intercept me. Too late, I jerked backward, toward the door, stumbling over my feet as they pounded against the weak floorboards. He was behind me, my heart raced as I moved closer and closer to the front door and his breath permeated the back of my neck. I didn’t make it; his hand encircled my arm, jerking me back pulling me to the side. I yelped, managing to pull myself loose from his grip, but instead of continuing toward the door, I slipped and launched toward the back of our La-Z-Boy chair, slamming my head on the backboard and letting out a scream as I did. The world spun and my head screamed in pain as my senses vacated.

What the hell.

“That ain’t your computer,” Jerald snarled. “What you think you’re doing with it?”

There was no sense arguing with him; my head swam and the pain in my forehead quickly became more pronounced; throbbing, stabbing, becoming ever more intense as I coughed and choked.

“You oughta be grateful,” He said, towering over me, his fists balled and jaw set. An anger all too familiar flowed through him; an anger that I’d seen in all of mom’s other boyfriends. She attracted a type for sure. “You and your mom, you were about out on your asses and I come in here, out of the goodness of my own heart, and I pay your bills, I put food on your table, least you could do is respect my rules! You ungrateful little bitch.”

Using my feet, I pushed myself backward, next to the end table as he moved toward me. He bellowed about teaching me a ‘lesson’ and I took the laptop in my hands and tightened my fingers around the case. A surge of anger mixed with primal far ripped through me as I did a half-turn with my waist and raised the laptop over my head. Swing after swing, I brought it down against the corner of the end table.

Crack

Crack

Crack

Plastic splintered, screws scattered, and the ancient Acer was left a cracked mess as I lept to my feet and threw it at Jerald as hard as I could. He instinctively threw his hands up, barely deflecting the now useless laptop as it slammed into his forearms. I was already running, feet pounding against the floorboards, my hand on the doorknob, door flying open. I launched myself into the storm, stumbling down the stairs as sheets of rain enveloped me. As I ran forward, barreling past my mom’s old Ford Focus, past Joey’s tiny headstone, jumping over the concrete barrier and bolting between two neighboring trailers, I was gone. I was a ghost plunged into the ether; I had ceased to exist the world was better for it.

I had no idea if he was following me, all I knew was cold, wet, and loud. Occasional bursts of thunder unsettled my very soul and flashes of lightning guided my path from trailer to trailer. Where was I going? Which was was right? No way was right. No way was right. Between trailers, around propane tanks, bouncing off of a tin shed, and finally, shooting out into the road. Streetlights burned overhead; a moot point when it came to visibility. My bare shoulders took the brunt of the freezing cold and I wrapped my arms about my body against the wind. In the light of the street lamp I screamed my frustrations.

“Why?!” I demanded, my voice swept away like autumn leaves in the rain. “It was our house you bitch! You had no right to bring him in! No right! Fuck!”

A blast of thunder punctuated my tirade as I stomped my foot into the wet pavement and continued a string of curses that no one could hear. My screams turned into sobs as the storm continued. I lurched forward, toward the divider in the middle of the road, kicking a concrete trash can and screaming in pain. I limped to the other side of the road and dropped to my knees, half on and half off the concrete divider with my palms on the sidewalk. The headlights of a passing car briefly illuminated the world around me; I squeezed my eyes shut in the face of the blunt fresnel luminescence and then rose to my feet, shivering in the cold. Where could I go? What was I going to do? Kelly. I could go to Kelly’s house. It wasn’t too far away, maybe two miles at most. I could make it.

Arms still wrapped around my chest, I walked forward, stumbling a bit and shaking as I cleared the trailer park and tripped through a flooding ditch. On the other side of the ditch, Ballentine Pike and a short way up, Knollwood Road. All I had to do was keep walking. Just keep walking and hope that no one noticed a lone girl walking alongside the road. Boy, girl, whatever they would call me when they found me. I wasn’t exactly well put together at this point.

The walk took an hour maybe, at least that’s what I thought. It was long and slow, the same muted scenery repeating as I kept to the gravel berm alongside a deep ditch. He wasn’t following me; if he were, he would have caught up to me by now, and if he’d been driving, well, he probably would have hit me and called it an accident. Ahead of me, lighting illuminated a copse of trees as I crossed short bridge; I leaned on the guardrail for support. Below me, in addition to the sound of pouring rain, I could hear the rushing creek bed. My skin was growing cold, probably turning purple; I felt like a popsicle out here; my teeth were chattering and the throbbing in my skull hadn’t gotten any better. If anything it was worse. As I passed the end of the bridge, I felt the gravel give way and my right foot shot out from underneath me; I flailed my arms, desperate to keep my balance, but I fell end over end, sliding down the embankment, coming to rest near the treeline. I tried to regain my feet, but a searing pain shot through my leg, forcing me to drop facedown into the mud. The cold was beginning to overtake me; I could feel new pain forming across my face and my hands found no purchase in the wet soil. A sob escaped my lips as my body weakened and endured torrent after torrent of rainfall. Shit. I was going to die here, at the bottom of this stupid ravine.

“Get up.”

Who said that? I looked around, numbly, weakly, looking for the voice in a near-apocalyptic darkness but there was none to be found. Stupid, stupid Lyra, now you’re hearing things.

“You’re almost there, Lyra. Get up!”

“Almost there,” I whispered. “…almost….”

“Get up!” The voice shrieked this time and I jerked myself upright, my head on a swivel as I tried to pinpoint the source of the voice. Nothing, there was nothing, but nonetheless, I pushed forward, stumbling alongside the incline wall with the darkness of the forest on my right. Whatever it was, it was right about the direction. I emerged into Kelly’s backyard, next to a steep incline that led from a small playground to the back door of her house. With some difficulty, I managed to push through the rain and emerged at the top of the incline, and then crossed onto the concrete apron leading to the door. With no more strength to spare, I wobbled slightly, barely managing to press the yellow doorbell before dropping to my knees, my head slamming against the door.

Breath after ragged breath, I lost track of the seconds as the cold bored a hole into my soul, pushing me closer and closer to the ground. So it had come to this; I was frozen, my body screaming in pain, and my limbs twitching as I waited. The door would open or it wouldn’t; either way, this was the end of the line.

Fuck you Jerald. Fuck you mom for letting it happen.

My vision began to spot and finally, I felt the sweet embrace of unconsciousness begin to take me. Fading, falling, finally warm. It didn’t last long: a harsh, rapid patting against my cheek ensued.

“Lyra!” A voice said to me. A familiar voice. The patting continued. “Lyra honey, wake up, Lyra!”

“Lyra come on,” Another voice said. “Lyra- Jesus, Whitney, call 911!”

“No,” I half muttered and half yelled as I forced my eyes open and tried to sit up. I was on the floor inside Kelly’s house; off in a side room that they had planned to repurpose into a living room but had turned more into an accumulation of random junk. My vision was blurry but I could recognize the outline of Kelly; her long hair bound behind her head. Her mother, Martha, and Whitney, her other best friend. She was pretty, way prettier than me with her long blonde hair, medium complexion and pouty lips. I’d always been so jealous of her. Why was I thinking about that now?

“Lyra, honey, lay down,” Martha urged me. “Oh my god, look at her face!”

“Did…did he hit her?” Kelly asked nervously. “Bastard, I knew he would!”

“What is this?” Whitney asked, panic in her voice. “What’s going on?”

“Get her some blankets,” Kelly urged. “Grab that quilt from the back of the couch!”

Moments later I was wrapped in a heavy quilt and being moved gently toward the living room. Martha continued to reassure me, Whitney asked pointed but panicked questions, Kelly cursed angrily.

“Did he find out?” Kelly demanded as I dropped heavily onto the couch. She sat beside me, taking both of my hands in hers. “I’ll kill him!”

“No,” I said in a low whimper, my voice cracked. “He’s…he’s just an asshole.”

“What happened to your eye?” Martha asked. “Did he hit you?”

“Find out what?” Whitney, more than a bit panicked.

“Nothing,” Kelly snapped. I looked up, my eyes meeting hers as she released my hand and began to rub my arm. “It’s nothing.”

“He’ll find out anyhow,” Martha said. “And then it’ll just be worse.”

“So he’ll kill me,” I said bluntly, shivering beneath the blanket. “and then everyone’ll be better off.”

“Don’t say that!” Martha gasped. “Kelly, put some coffee on!”

Kelly released my hand and trotted off toward the kitchen while Whitney looked around, in confusion.

“Does someone want to like, tell me what’s going on here? Whose going to find out what?”

“Whitney, get the first aid kit, we need to get something on that eye. God Lyra, you look…oh my god, what did he do to you?”

I shook my head, sinking back into the couch as I began to cry.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m sorry Mrs. Cabot, I”m so sorry!”

“Lyra, honey!” Martha sat down beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, her right hand grasping mine. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“It’s…it’s my fault. If I wasn’t…the way I am, I wouldn’t have to be scared of him finding out. Now I’m in your house at four in the morning, soaking your couch and waking you up. I’m just…just a fuck up!”

“Lyra, no,” Martha insisted. “You’re my daughter’s best friend and you’re like a daughter to me. You’re not going back there, you understand?”

“You can’t stop it,” I sobbed. “They’re just gonna take me back there, they always do!”

“Yeah, they do,” She agreed. “And I’ve keep track of every single time. You’re not going back this time. Lyra, you are the way you are because you’re special and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You understand me?”

I nodded as Kelly handed me a mug of coffee.

“I mixed it with some cocoa,” She smiled. “Hope you don’t mind too much.”

“Kelly, can I talk to you?” Whitney raised an eyebrow, looking from me, then to her. Kelly shrugged and motioned for her to follow. I watched as they both walked toward the arch leading into the foyer.

“Come on,” Martha smiled, giving me a quick hug. “Drink up, then we’ll get you something to wear.”

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. The pain that tore through my body was immense and it dominated my every attempt to even move a single limb. My left cheek lay against the stones and I could feel a warmth forming beneath it, pooling out and trickling in the grout beneath the stones, a beautiful glistening red beneath the glow of the moon.

The voice had told me to jump. I had listened to it, and now I was dying in the streets of Auglire. Why had I listened?

Why?

It was beginning to occur to me that mysterious voices in the back of my head were not likely to be an irrefutable source of life and death advice.

At the edge of my vision I could see my fingers sitting at the end of a useless limb; my brain sent a signal for them to move - they twitched slightly in response. My body was broken, I was broken. My thoughts wandered to Sheena, the sister who had claimed me, the one I had resented for so long, and I wondered why I had wasted so much time. She was someone who cared about me, who had sacrificed me, and how had I repaid her? I was going to die half naked in a back alley, was this what all her training and care was for?

Pitiful.

Get up.

“Can’t,” I muttered soundlessly in response to the voice that was now nagging at me. It wasn’t really a voice, just a feeling, or rather an idea. Still, it was real, and it was wrong.

Stand up, Lyra.

“Would you look at that?” I heard the familiar voice of Greta above me. If my body hadn’t been so broken I might have cringed or had any reaction to the sound of her voice. But my body had nothing left to give.

“Pitiful, that,” Arn said. “You’re so repulsive she’d rather be dead than listen to your voice for another moment.”

“Oh rugg off,” Greta snapped. “That’s our payday laying there dead on the stones, ‘ow you expect to feed ourselves now?”

“She wasn’t the only payday, Greta,” Arn informed her. “Those medical supplies we’ve got crated up in there-”

“A trifling after Old Jaf takes his cut,” Greta said. “Let’s go find another girl.”

“Aye, then,” Arn said, resigned. “plenty to choose from.”

Get up. The voice said again after they’d gone. Lyra get up.

“Rugg off,” I said quietly as my vision began to fade. The world grew darker, the pain began to numb. My body was broken but I felt it less and less as my mind began to go. Crimson blood, my life force, was running, seeping toward an iron drain cover in the center of the darkened alleyway and with it went my mind.

Lyra, what is broken does not need to remain broken. You are better than this. You are more than this. Stand up Lyra. Stand up and do what you need to do.

“I deserve this,” I said to no one. I expected the voice to argue but was greeted with nothing but silence. As I lay there, waiting for the end, I noticed something disturbing; the forming darkness began to recede, and a sharp pain formed in my arm, followed by a cracking, grinding noise. The same followed with my chest, then my legs. Sharp pains followed by immediate relief, my strength and awareness returning little by little. My arms twitched, my head rolled, and suddenly my ears were filled with sounds from both ends of the alley. Voices, wooden wheels against cobblestone, the dumping of waste buckets; splashes of water against stone. What was happening?

She lives, A new voice said.

Of course she does.

I lived. With sore arms I managed to push myself upright and sat forward on my knees, palms against the stone. Gradually, I rose, standing amidst a puddle of gleaming blood, my shift soaked in the same. I took a step and then yelped as my ankle shrieked in pain. So, miraculously, every part of me but my ankle had healed. Hilarious. Ignoring the pain, I limped forward, out of the alley and emerged onto a street that wasn’t in much better condition than the alley, but it was at least populated with people, most of them dressed in rags, some better off than others. Tall glass lantern poles lined the streets every ten feet, casting an eerie yellow glow on the darkened passage,n a ironic illumination on a stretch of road and a people that had much to hide. I stumbled down the sidewalk, still dizzy, passing a group of men in black, gray, and brown coats. A woman in a ragged gray dress, a bandage wrapped diagonally about her face, covering her right eye. A boy sat shivering against a wall, a man in with a long beard in a tattered overcoat, dozens of people brushed past me, all of them ignoring my disheveled state. Just another girl with messy hair a a blood-soaked shift, nothing to worry about.

I was hungry. Maybe the mysterious voice had something to say about that. I listened closely but no disembodied advice came to me. Was that all, then?

My travels took me to the end of the street, to a right turn that led to another row of mismatched houses, broken windows, and smoking chimneys working in tandem with the gas-lamps to blot out the night sky. I was alive, I was healthy, and though I was hungry, I had a chance to make it back. Back home, back to Sheena. I could do it, but which way? Everything around me looked the same. Ragged people, burning street lamps, decrepit buildings. I stumbled between two buildings, careful to keep my ankle off the ground as much as possible and found myself on a landing overlooking a lower section of the street. A cart filled with hay just below, more people shuffling about the darkness, a rolling carriage, a vendor’s cart illuminated with colored lights, a limping dog. So much life, and yet none of it seemed meaningful. I crept down a set of stone stairs into the lower street and walked past a large, well-lit building. Another brief alleyway brought me to an intersection and as I looked up, I gasped at the sight of the Bokenshire bridge towering above me. It was huge from up top; I had seen it coming in, months ago when I’d arrived here from Axock, but from below it was a monstrosity, the wide paved surface four hundred feet above my head. The structure loomed like a shadow over the slums and made me feel more than insignificant. The good news: if I could get to the top of the bridge, I would be able to draw the attention of a city guard and would likely be returned to the campus, probably to a very annoyed Sheena. I was halfway home.

I limped toward the massive bridge supports, hoping to find a way up but as I grew closer I realized that it would be far more complicated than that. Getting to the base of the structure would require finding a way there and there were several buildings blocking me between here and there. After about ten minutes of walking, I sighed as my stomach growled and I returned to the square with the brightly-lit building. It was a misshapen structure like all the others, but it was two stories tall and looked out onto the street with a set of eight bright windows set into crusty walls. I sighed again. What could it hurt? As I approached the set of double doors in the front of the building, I could hear the sound of a single voice from within, and as I quietly pushed the door open, it was a shock to find the entirety of the front room filled with people, each one sitting at a table, each dressed in different colors and shades. Dirt-soiled faces, women in rough cotton dresses, men wearing faded button-down shirts and rough trowsers. The inn was dimly lit with oil lanterns hung from the walls, the wooden floor dark and faded. At the front of the crowed, a man dressed in a suit that feigned nobility but the threadbare state of his jacket hinted at a poverty of his own. He was older than me, probably in his mid-twenties with a soft face and light-brown hair that came down just past his ears. Possessed of a confidence I could only dream of, he addressed the crowd, their attention seemingly in the palm of his hand.

“…the time has come,” the man said. “For the ‘High Lady’ to fulfill her responsibilities to the people! For the ‘High Lady’, to admit her shortcomings! How many of you have gone hungry? How many of your children have fallen ill as you wait and hope for the Lady to fulfill her promises?”

The man spoke loudly, gesturing broadly with his arms to the cadence of ‘here here!’ from the crowd, some of them offering light applause, and others raising their mugs in agreement.

“And then what of those who have tried to prosper and failed because of the Lady’s draconian tariffs? Her insistence that we pay for her highly taxed goods while foregoing the wares of good, honest merchants! She has forced us into poverty the name of national defense! She would watch us fail and flounder while the nobility prospers and resides in their luxurious manses! Are we not men? Are we not women? Who are we, but the life blood of Auglire? Merchants, tailors, bakers, cog makers, those who bring life to Klocby! Will we sit by and allow her to rule our lives? To decide whether or not we ourselves may prosper? Or shall you join with me, with us, and take our protest to the streets? Will you stand with me and make a statement? Ladies, Gentlemen, we are the next generation, we are the future of Klocby whether the High Lady and her gaggle of nobles wish to admit it or not! Your mothers will tell you to respect the nobility. Your fathers and your grandfathers will tell you that you must pay heed to tradition! To blazes with it all! We are not our fathers, we are not our grandfathers! The traditions of the past mean nothing if the future is one of illness and poverty!”

The room was ablaze with the sounds of applause and cheers as the man continued his speech, pacing back and forth on the wooden platform throwing his hands and making strong, absolute statements. Even I found myself supremely impressed with his portrayed intentions. As I stood there listening, tucked away in the shadows near the door I felt a tug on my shoulder. Looking to my right, I saw a woman there, perhaps Sheena’s age with brown hair bound back with a ragged bow.

“Good Goddess,” She said, loud enough for me to hear over the roar of the crowd. “Girl what happened to you? Come along, let’s get you cleaned up!”

I didn’t have much choice in the matter; she placed a firm grip on my upper arm and led me around the back, past the cheering crowd and to a door at the side of the tavern. We passed through a hallway, the woman speeding up as we passed several wooden doors. Finally we took a left and walked up a staircase leading to the second floor, and eventually a room with several chairs, a threadbare couch, and a table off in the corner. The woman stopped me in the center of the room and stood back to look at me.

“Goddess be good!” She exclaimed. “Your face! Who did this to you?”

In that moment it occurred to me that somehow my bones had healed, but there were parts of me still bruised, still battered. Not to mention my shift was soaked through with blood.

“I…” I said hesitantly. “There was a woman…and a man. They took me and-”

“Aye?” The woman said, regarding me with concern; she cupped my chin with her hand and turned my head, examining what must have been a nasty bruise on the left side of my face. “Do you know their names?”

“I’m sorry…” I croaked. “But who-”

“Oh never mind all that,” She said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in some proper clothes!”

Before I could object, she rushed me across the room and shoved me into a tiny washroom complete with a galvanized tub, filled already with water.

“Take that nasty thing off,” She said, indicating my shift. I immediately paled.

“I…could I have some privacy?” I asked her, my voice beginning to shake. She frowned.

“Dear, I need to look at those bruises,” She informed me firmly. “You don’t have aught I haven’t seen before.”

“I…I don’t know about that,” I said in a squeaky voice, shrinking back toward the wall.

“Nonsense,” She said quickly, stepping forward and taking a handful of my shift in her hand. “Come now, let’s see.”

No further objection from me would suffice and I struggled very little as she pulled it over my head, dropping it into a pile on the floor. I stood there in the small room, naked as she ran her hand over the bruises covering the entire left side of my body.

“Did you fall?” She asked me. I nodded. “What do they call you?”

I started to tell her my name and then I thought better of it. “Allie.”

“Allie,” She smiled and nodded. “My name, is Melina. This might all seem odd to you but I can’t very well resist helping a girl in trouble, and you are, obviously, a girl in trouble. Now get into the tub, clean yourself up and we’ll find you something to wear!”

I watched her leave the room, completely baffled as she apparently ignored my anatomy completely. Did she not care? I looked nervously toward the tub, but then shrugged and lowered myself into the lukewarm water. It felt good, surprisingly, and I immediately took a wash rag from a table beside and scrubbed dried blood from my arms. As I worked, I couldn’t help but notice the bruises that Melina had been referring tom. My left arm was several shades of bluish-black with patches of white skin poking out from beneath. Upon further inspection, my chest was in the same condition and they were all equally painful - a pain I hadn’t noticed until now. Whatever had healed me, had only done so much and I was apparently on my own for the rest of it. As I finished and crawled out of the tub, Melina returned with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

“They could be a touch big on you,” She said apologetically. “I doubt we’re much the same size, close maybe.”

She handed me the bundle; it was a simple white chemise with a brown over-dress, nothing fancy. I shrugged into the clothes and stood quietly while she worked the laces.

“We ought not do it too tight,” She said. “lest we agitate those bruises, goodness, how are you alive?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Well, come on then,” She said as she ran a brush through my hair. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Something to eat turned out to be a few pieces of rukon breast and a bowl of thick stew, both of which I shoveled into my mouth as if my life depended on it. I’d known I was hungry but I didn’t realize I was that hungry. She at across the table from me, resting her chin on her fist as she observed me eating. I finally stopped mid-bite and set the spoon down.

“I um…thank you, for doing this,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes trained on the bowl.

“Tis no trouble,” She assured me. “Might I asked a question, though?”

Great, here it comes.

“I…guess…” I said nervously, closing my eyes and gripping the table.

“You live as a girl?”

“Yes,” I said simply.

“And how do you find it?”

“It feels right,” I shrugged. “I’m…I’m sorry, I know I’m…you probably expected a real girl when you brought me up here-”

“One piece of anatomy doesn’t make you a fraud,” She interrupted me. I looked up, meeting her eyes as she grinned slightly. “‘sides, Allie, choices are something we’re short on these days. Good to see you made yours.”

“It wasn’t so much of a choice,” I said carefully, my eyes dropping to the table again. “I just…I am…this. It hurt to live any other way.”

“In the end,” She said. “We all have to be what we are, ain’t no choice about it. Finish your soup.”

She rose from the table and crossed the room as I slid another bite into my mouth. Behind me, the door opened and I turned to see the man from downstairs enter. The loud one.

“Taking in strays, Melina?” The man said as he gave me a cursory glance. I cringed and shrank into the chair.

“Girl’s name is Allie,” Melina said. “and there’s aught you should know. I heard it through the vines tonight that Greta and her partner lost some ‘merchandise’ and they were about for another, then I see this girl wander into the inn soaked in blood and bruised like a peach. What say you to that?”

“I say that’s interesting!” The man said, suddenly upbeat. I turned and glanced nervously toward the door, ready to run. “Calm down girl, my name is Quinn, Quinn Mallory. I’m a bit of a traveler, so to speak, but right now my business is in Auglire. Tell me, by what circumstances do you find yourself here?”

I rose cautiously from the chair, folding my hands in front of me, wringing them anxiously.

“I ah…I….was taken,” I said carefully, not sure how much I wanted to give away.

“Can you describe who took you?” Melina moved toward me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “We mean you no harm, I assure you.”

“A man,” I said in resignation; I saw no choice but to cooperate. Even if I could escape the room where would I go? “A huge man…and a woman with black hair and-”

“Greta and Arn for sure,” Quinn nodded. He began to pace. “And you escaped?”

“I jumped…from the roof,” I nodded.

“Would explain the bruises,” Melina confirmed. “and if she escaped, she must have some idea of where they were keeping her.”

“Indeed,” Quinn agreed. “Allie, are you aware of the spread of the Zlitian plague in the Thompson quarter? That’s what they call it anyway, poor choice of words if I say so myself.”

I shook my head.

“Long story really,” Quinn told me. “Bottom line, the Thompson quarter is quarantined and supplies were sent by the High Lady - a rare display of generosity on her part if I do say. But, you see, Old Jaf and his cohorts intercepted it, and now he has crates upon crates of food and medicine sitting idle wherever Greta and Arn call home. I have interest in liberating these supplies and it seems you may be the only person to know where they are.”

My mind traveled back to my time in the cellar and then the piles of crates that had been in the storeroom upstairs. Yes, the man, Quinn, was probably right, but if I gave him that information, would he let me leave? Was I a prisoner here?

“Whatever we plan to do, we ought do it quickly.” Melina suggested. “There’s some stirring in the city, north of the Maussen district. They say the High Lady is declaring martial law, ought not be long before we see troops in the slums.”

“I will gather the men, then,” Quinn said, stepping toward the door. “Tonight, we take back those supplies and we put an end to Greta once and for all.”

“You mean to kill her then?” Melina cocked her head.

“I mean to do what needs to be done,” He assured her. “And with all she’s done, it could be said she deserves no less.”

Quinn exited the room, leaving me alone with Melina. I turned and looked to her apprehensively and she gave me a confident smile.

“You carry yourself quite well,” She told me, leading me over to the couch. “Your mannerisms, your voice, gestures, all of them very feminine. Had I not seen you undressed, I wouldn’t have known otherwise. But you’re so nervous, have some confidence, would you?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I feel…I feel as if I’m a fraud, I know you say I’m not but-”

“I ought fix your hair,” She suggested. “A tangled mess, it is.”

I sat silently as she walked across the room and retrieved a soft-bristled brush from a nearby desk and then went to work on my hair. I was suddenly reminded of Sheena and the way she meticulously brushed my hair, though with Melina it didn’t feel like a threat - more of a kind gesture.

“Where do you live?” She asked me. “You are clearly below the age of majority. Have you parents? Family? Do you go to school?”

“I…have a sister,” I said carefully. “I live with her.”

“Then you’ll want to be getting back to her,” Melina said as she finished with my hair. “Did your sister teach you then? To be so feminine? You’re quite good at it.”

“Yes,” I nodded. I couldn’t give away too much information in this exchange; it was clear they hated the nobility and while the Rossi family wasn’t exactly nobility, they weren’t that far below it.

“It’ll be a bit,” She sighed. “You ought stay here for a bit, even after we’re done with Greta. The city watch is on patrol and they’ve pulled out all the stops. I don’t know what they’re looking for but even you should know well enough not to get in their way.”

The door opened again, and Quinn entered with two new men and one red-headed woman, several years older than Melina.

“Wouldn’t you know it,” Quinn said, taking a seat on a nearby chair while the others did the same. “Greta’s on the prowl. Seems she and Arn left their girl for dead and when they came back she’d crawled off.”

Melina snorted.

“Allie, this is Rod, Swiggart, and Pid. Associates of mine,” Quin gestured to the three newcomers. “Now it seems we are going to have a bit of a problem; Old Jaf can assemble a fairly large force of thieves and bandits, all under his employ, his choices are to either murder you or move the supplies. That leaves you in a rather precarious position.”

“Aye,” Pid nodded, scratching her head. “We can’t very well put up a fight against everything Old Jaf could throw at us.”

“He has money behind him,” Rod agreed. “and he’d burn this place down in a heartbeat if it wouldn’t lower his influence in the area.”

“Not a bad point,” Swiggart chuckled. “burn this place down and we’re a dry district.”

They continued to talk, ignoring me for the most part. Embarrassingly, I looked down and realized that I was clutching Melina’s hand. She smiled reassuringly at me and we waited until the conversation returned to the subject of the warehouse.

“Well,” Quinn sighed. “They can attack us, but we need those supplies. How many men do you suppose we could muster?”

“Tonight? Does it matter?” Pid raised an eyebrow. “We cross Old Jaf, he’ll keep coming, and coming, and coming. No night’s going to be safe after that.”

“That settles that then,” Quinn said. “We’ll just have to kill Old Jaf.”

“I knew you’d say something like that,” Rod rolled his eyes and other others followed suit. “How then do you suppose we’ll do that?”

“A bullet ought to do it,” Quinn suggested, eliciting a groan from the room. “and it’ll be easy enough to lure him out.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Melina demanded.

“Allie here can tell us the location of their storehouse, and then, well, we use her as bait.”

“If we know where the storehouse is, then why would we need bait?” Pid raised an eyebrow.

“Dramatic effect,” Quinn shrugged. “But in all seriousness, let the girl wander the streets while we take the storehouse. They can’t hit us on two fronts. Besides, we have a severe advantage tonight.”

“Which is?” Melina looked to me almost nervously, and I wondered why she would care so much.

“The sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth garrisons have deployed troops to shut down everything south of the Maussen district, as mentioned earlier. Old Jaf is cut off from, well, any sort of assistance that he might have otherwise had. Frankly, if we want to put an end to the man, we won’t get a much better opportunity than tonight.”

“Kill Old Jaf,” Pid scoffed. “Why I nary thought I’d see the day.”

“Now Quinn,” Rod said, almost in a lecturing tone. “Can this really be done? Do you think we can kill Old Jaf without retribution?”

“You take Old Jaf, and suddenly, hundreds of people find themselves unemployed,” Quinn rose from his chair and began to pace the room, he placed a thoughtful finger to his chin and nodded. “Yes, they’ll flock to us.”

“That’s a silly notion, that,” Swiggart snorted. “What would you need with an army? What would we need with an army?’

“Better to have them under our thumb than another’s,” Melina pointed out. “You kill Old Jaf, suddenly you get New Jaf and the like.”

“And the fight begins again,” Quinn smiled.

“What you’re talking about,” Rod said. “Is going from revolutionary to crime lord overnight. I dare say I don’t know if I wish to be a party to that.”

“What I wish is to help the people,” Quinn said sharply. “To bring them hope where the High Lady brough them despair, by her will or not. Through her negligence they suffer and if we have the resources to bring them a small but fleeting taste of happiness then by the Goddess it stands as our responsibility to do so!”

“Quinn,” Melina smirked. “You’re among us now, you need not turn everything into a political speech.”

“Yes, yes,” Quinn waved his hand dismissively. “It is…difficult not to become enraged by the state of things and I need not tell you that!”

“So this plan then,” Melina looked to me, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ll send her to the streets?”

“A solid plan, for true,” Swiggart shrugged.

“And we can save her? When they come for her?”

“I can’t see killing Greta as a difficulty,” Rod smiled. “Arn though, he might prove a challenge.”

“That man is the size of a galleon,” Quinn agreed. “And yet…”

The group continued to scheme and plan, ignoring me for the most part. I heard my name, ‘Allie’ come up a few times and occasionally Melina would steal a glance at me. At one point, Quinn walked to a chest of drawers on the other side of the room and fetched a long roll of parchment with a partial map of the city which he laid on the table before the couch and between the chairs. It was surprisingly detailed, showing and in-depth representation of the surrounding buildings, alleyways, shops, homes, vendors, hiding spots, and it featured a wide range of notes scribbled in the margins. The entire time, however, all I could think about was Sheena. How I’d abandoned her, how I was here now. How there was no way back to her. If I spoke up, if I told these people who I was, how would they respond? What would they do with me? They hated nobles well enough, and I was a Rossi. What a predicament I had wandered into!

“Allie,” I heard Quinn say with irritation; it occurred to me that he had likely spoken to me once already and I’d probably missed it. I looked up and met the man’s gaze, all eyes in the room were focused on me now. “You can show us the storehouse? On this map?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “Outside this building, up the stairs, you see them there, on the map? It should be in this area,” I circled the area on the map with my finger.

“That building then,” Swiggart said, jerking an index finger at a specific section of the map. “Do you recall when the city watch stored ammunition there?”

“Aye, I do,” Quinn nodded. “That building has been vacant for the better part of a decade. Now Allie, you understand your part in all this?”

“You’re sending me to die,” I nodded. “I’m no better off than I started.”

“Fair assessment,” Rod laughed.

“Did you enjoy eating our food, Allie,” Quinn looked to me with a stern expression in his eyes. “Do you not feel you should at least play some part in this to express your gratitude?”

“I feel that I enjoy breathing,” I snapped, suddenly angry.

“You can’t fault the lass for wanting to live,” Pid shrugged.

“You’ll live,” Melina assured me. “‘Tis not the first time we’ve done things of this sort.”

Maybe not. Maybe they did this all the time but they had no care for me; I was a stranger to them and they had no reason to save me. Quinn asked if everyone was ready; I remained silent as the others gave their agreement and Quinn rolled the parchment map, replacing it in the drawer from which it had come.

“You need not fear,” Melina told me, giving me another useless reassurance as the others filed out of the room. “We’ve no reason to want you dead.”

“You’ve no reason to see me alive,” I pointed out. “no one’s coming to save me, I’m not stupid.”

“No, I suppose you aren’t,” She smiled. “but you ought have more faith in people.”

Faith. Now there was a concept.

I wondered what Sheena was doing right now. I wondered if she even cared about me. While I was there, while I was her sister for the short time that I was, she had cared about me but now that I was out of sight, out of mind, what investment would she have in me? I had never asked to be her sister, she had forced it upon me, and at the time it had been a mechanism of my survival - the only way to escape the inevitable as the High Lady put into motion her cold, calculating machinations that could have very well saved my life that night. It was Sheena who had seen through my outer shell, it was Sheena who had embraced me, and it was she who had seen fit to try to bring out the potential in me. But, alas, I was a failed experiment. I had been tested, and I had failed. Given the best of opportunities and thrown them away. That was the way of it, wasn’t it? That was who I was. Nothing more, nothing less. I glanced toward the door as Quinn strolled back in, a short revolver in his hand that he snapped closed and gave a spin.

“Melina,” He said. “If you don’t mind, we need to get started.”

“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.

“My lady,” Sheena said. “We must find her!”

“That is not in question,” The High Lady said. “I have allocated the necessary resources to the search, but we must speak of what happens after.”

“After, High Lady?” Sheena frowned. “I…I must apologize, Auglire is such a large city and the chances of finding her are low as it is. I am…doing my best to focus on what’s in front of me, High Lady.”

“As should be expected,” The High Lady’s voice was controlled, her tone even as she studied Sheena. “Have you spoken with your father?”

“I sent word,” Sheena shifted in her chair, eager to leave the office and search for her sister. “He seems…preoccupied as of late.”

“Indeed,” The High Lady nodded. “The city watch has been deployed. Everything south of the Maussen District is being placed on lockdown as we speak. Sheena, let me be…blunt for a moment.”

“Yes, High Lady?” Sheena frowned and folded her hands, barely resisting the urge to tell the High Lady to ‘hurry it along’.

“I recognize that Lyra is not Micah Lavoric, though admittedly it was hard for me to accept at first, but my question to you, Sheena, is why? We could have simply determined Lyra’s identity and stuffed her in some menial position, far away where she would be of no consequence. Instead, you gave her your family name without your family’s blessing and created all manner of internal strife, or so I am led to understand. Sheena, why would you do that? What gives Lyra such importance?”

“Is it a straight answer that you wish, High Lady?” Sheena said with an almost imperceptible sigh. The High Lady raised an eyebrow and then gave a slight nod. “I gave way to panic, High Lady. I knew…that there was something special about Lyra, and had you been able to execute your plan, well, what are the odds she would have lived?”

“Slim,” The High Lady admitted. “But anything is possible.”

“Giving her the Rossi name was a way to keep her alive.”

“It did give me pause,” The High Lady nodded. “It would be easier to kill a commoner than a Rossi.”

“By definition, the Rossi’s are still commoners,” Sheena pointed out. “We do not belong to the ruling class.”

“You know very well there is a divide between commoners and families like yours,” The High Lady said sternly. “Please do not insult me by pretending your awareness does not extend so far.”

“I meant no offense, High Lady,” Sheena said apologetically.

“Of course. Now, on to the subject of Lyra. When she is found, I’m afraid there will be some…stipulations.”

“Stipulations?”

“Sheena, Lyra may be Lyra but she still inhabits the body of Micah Lavoric, regardless of how we have altered it. She still has his memories, no matter how fragmented. Tensions between Klocby and Axock have never been greater and it doesn’t help that we have the body of Micah Lavoric walking around. Sheena, when we get her back, she will not speak of her past, and she will not leave your sight. When I say your sight, I do mean the sight of your family. She is to be escorted or she is to be kept indoors. Do I make myself clear?”

“High Lady, she already has so little freedom,” Sheena protested. “I don’t think-”

“I won’t hear your objections, Sheena Rossi!” The High Lady snapped, raising her voice a few octaves. Sheena recoiled in her chair, her hands tightening around one another. “If you cannot place these restrictions on her freedom then her freedom will be even more restricted. I will not have her causing a political incident! Am I understood?”

“Yes, High Lady,” Sheena said, her expression hardening; she resisted the urge to curl her lip with practiced precision. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, I believe that will be all, Sheena,” The High Lady nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, High Lady,” Sheena said as she rose and gave a shallow curtsey.

She stepped away and walked slowly, finally stepping past the blue-uniformed guards and into the entryway where a wooden desk was occupied by a single servant, not under Sheena’s command.

Right, Sheena remembered, The ‘Cup Bearer’. It was an old position that probably needed to be renamed; it was less about bearing cups and more about appointments, paperwork, and the occasional food order. When Lyra had first arrived, that had been her request and as Micah Lavoric, it wasn’t that far fetched, because presumably, she would have had the necessary credentials. As Lyra, the real Lyra that had come from another world with foreign customs and ideas, she was severely lacking in that regard. Sheena smirked slightly at the memory and then moved forward, past the six rectangular windows and through the set of double doors leading to the Vice passage which would eventually lead to the Octagon. She paused at the end of the corridor and regarded Calliope, standing there with her hands folded in front of her long gray gown; she quickly noticed Sheena standing at the entryway and tensed.

“Did you do as I asked?” Sheena demanded, walking toward her.

“Yes,” Calliope fell in step beside her, doing her best to keep up with the long gown easily restricting her movement. “Sheena can I ask-”

“My friends and family call me Sheena,” She snapped back. “You may refer to me as Ms. Rossi, and no, you may not.”

The rest of the walk passed in silence until they reached Sheena’s office where she made her way directly to the clothing rack on the far left side. Calliope watched in confusion as Sheena changed into a pair of leather breeches, a white button-up shirt, and a tight brown leather jacket that tied with a sash at the waist. She bound back her hair and opened a footlocker just below the rack and lifted out a pair of brass goggles affixed to a leather strap, which wiggled over hear head, allowing them to hang about her neck. Finally, she laid a newsboy cap on her head and tilted it into position.

“I’m…sorry, Ms. Rossi,” Calliope shook her head and frowned. “What…exactly are you doing?”

“You lost my sister,” Sheene explained as she strapped a knife sheath to her leg and tested the heft of the blade before sliding it in. “I aim to get her back. Simple enough for you?”

“But…Sh—Ms. Rossi, the City Watch is already out there, surely they can-”

“You ought get changed,” Sheena gestured to another pile of clothes next to the rack. “We’ve work to do.”

As Calliope discarded her dress and shrugged into a pair of brown pants and white button-down top, Sheena retrieved a nickel-plated revolver from the foot locker and carefully inserted six brass shells. Snapping it shut, she gave it a spin and slid it into the holster beneath her coat. Calliope gawked at her partially in horror but also with some measure of amazement. After throwing a leather pack to Calliope, Sheena began to walk toward the side entrance and gestured for the girl to follow. The girl trudged along behind her, clearly awkward in the attire that Sheena had chosen for her. She had become accustomed to long, unwieldy gowns and clunky heels; the sudden freedom of trowsers saw her stumbling and lurching as she tried to keep up with Sheena’s quickening pace.

“Ms. Rossi, this pack is heavy,” Calliope said as she struggled to keep up.

“Put it on your back,” Sheena snapped; easily moving ahead of Calliope as they reached the bottom of the stairs. They passed through a riveted iron door and into a tunnel made from laminated brick and lined with brass pipes from beginning to end. Calliope glanced around nervously and made comments regarding her perception of the tunnel’s safety, which Sheena duly ignored. Moments later, Sheena and Calliope passed through another door which opened into an old aqueduct that by all rights should have been guarded, but ahead of them was nothing but the slanted concrete walls, cracked and overgrown with weeds.

“Ms. Rossi we shouldn’t be here,” Calliope stammered as she followed Sheena. She hefted the weight of the pack on her shoulders, inwardly groaning as the straps began to dig into her shoulders. She staggered under the weight and wondered just what the hell was in there. The walk, while taking only about twenty minutes, seemed to take hours for Calliope as she stumbled over rocks and felt the strain on her ankles as Sheena continued to walk, never slowing her pace once.

“What is the issue, Calliope?” Sheena demanded as they came to a set of stone stairs set into the side of the aqueduct. “You take my sister to a seedy hotel in the slums yet you have trouble with a simple walk? Have you never used your legs?”

Sheena cast a glare back to Calliope as she ascended the steps and watched briefly as the girls struggled with each step, sweat falling off of her brow nearly in waterfalls. The stairs took them to a brief landing which led to another stone stair set alongside an even taller perpendicular wall. By the time they reached the top, Calliope was gasping for air and upon reaching the landing, she fell forward and sprawled out across the cracked sidewalk overlooking the entrance to the slums, or, as it was formally called, the Lapis District. Before them, a city street that had seen far better days. Men, woman and children with soot-soiled faces and threadbare clothing passed by without giving Sheena or Calliope a second glance as they traversed the street, entering buildings or vanishing into side-passages. The buildings on either side of the street were made from brick, most of them two or more floors in height with darkened glass windows and large signs indicating their purpose. A small grocer, an even smaller timepiece repair shop. A leather worker’s shop with a detailed picture of a boot hanging in the front window. Several shops on either side which may have been the best the slums had to offer, but stunted by the presence of the cracked red and brick street that ran between them. Balled up news papers and food wrappers accentuated the stretch of pavers beneath the shadow of the rickety causeway connecting the Lapis District to the even more decrepit Tanis district.

“Get up,” Sheena snapped to Calliope who had barely managed to make it up to her knees. “How pathetic can one girl be?”

“Ms. Rossi, I…where could we possibly be going?”

Sheena declined to answer what she perceived to be an incredibly stupid question as they walked to the other side of the street and crossed through several back alleyways until they came to a nondescript door set into a gray brick wall.

“Fellow,” Sheena said shortly as she gripped the metal handle and pulled the door outward. The moment they stepped through, they were greeted by the unmistakable sound of pistol hammer cocking back and Sheena smiled slightly as she saw the revolver barrel leveled at her. Calliope shrieked as she was seized roughly from behind, a nickel-plated barrel pressed against her temple while another hand gripped her arm and held her in place.

“Sheena Rossie? That be you then?” A gruff voice asked in the darkness.

“It is, Cestus,” Sheena said with a near laugh on her tone. “You need no weapons with me.”

“And the girl?” A woman’s voice came from behind, loud enough to be heard over Calliope’s whimpering.

“Hilda, then?” Sheena turned and smiled as Cestus lowered his weapon. Hilda smiled to Sheena and gave Calliope a shove, holstering her pistol and wiping a tuft of black hair from her eyes.

“Aye, tis,” Hilda said, stepping forward. “I was surprised to recieve your message, ‘aven’t seen you in near ten years!”

“I had the girl send the message,” She gestured to Calliope.

“That’d explain the grammar,” Cestus laughed. He was a large man with graying hair and a leathery face, but if Sheena’s memory served her, age never seemed to affect his abilities.

“We were suspicious,” Hilda added. “Ought teach the girl to spell if she’s to speak for you.”

“That bad?” Sheena glanced at Calliope who was now cowering against the wall.

“Bad enough,” Cestus shrugged. “What’s the occasion, Sheena?”

“Not that we aren’t glad to see you,” Hilda added. “But if you’re callin’ us, there must be a purpose?”

“Aye, there is,” Sheena took Calliope by the arm and dragged her to her feet. “Lead on.”

Sheena filled them in with rough details on the way, Cestus nodding occasionally with Hilda deep in thought. They crested the top of the stairs and stood for a moment. The room was bare wood with broken furniture scatted throughout; their footsteps echoed quietly around them as they made their way up a set of stairs to a second floor that may once have been separated into rooms, but was now a large open space. Sheena’s eyes surveyed the are and noted the torn flooring, indicating where walls had indeed once stood, and then looked to the ornate table that sat in the midst of the space. The legs were intricately carved but they had been scuffed and splintered with age as with the oval surface. It had likely been an expensive handcrafted table once belonging to a wealthy family, eventually tossed out only to be discovered in one of the many second hand shops throughout the districts - or perhaps in a trash heap. With a panting Calliope in tow, the group made their way to the table situated in front of a set of dirty rectangular windows with a few broken panes; the intact panes streamed a dull reddish-yellow light across a large paper map unfolded across the table.

“We have everything south of Maussen here,” Cestus pointed to the map. “To my know, that trash heap of a hotel would be here, where you see my finger, and your sister could have been taken in this alley behind. How far they could have taken her? Given how much a’ care those people give, it would depend if she were out cold or if they had to drag her.”

“Calliope?” Sheena gave the girl a glance. Calliope pursed her lips and paled as all attention turned to her.

“I didn’t see…everything,” Calliope said timidly.

“Was she wakeful or not, girl?” Hilda demanded. “Is she your friend? Her life depends on your know!”

“I don’t know!” Calliope said tearfully. “It…it happened so…”

“Useless,” Hilda snapped in disgust.

“Aye, but she’s good at carrying things,” Sheena stepped around behind Calliope and pulled the pack from her shoulders; the girl immediately staggered backward and came to rest against the wall where she slid down until her backside rested on the floor and her head in her open palms. Sheena set the pack on the table and immediately unzipped it. From inside, she lifted a small cloth drawstring bag.“This should do it. I’ve also got plenty of ammunition for the job. One hundred rounds for each of us should do the trick, aye?”

“You take to rely too much on guns, Sheena,” Hilda shook her head and waved her ebony cane in the air. “At least this won’t run short of bullets.”

“Won’t kill them from a distance either,” Sheena said, distracted as she studied the map. “Besides, when have guns ever not been the solution?”

“Aye,” Cestus nodded in agreement. “Our guns saved your father at Silverhall, and he didn’t do so bad himself, so I might add.”

“And his teachings have brought me to this point,” Sheena said with a slight smirk. “to help me in my time of need.”

“And the girl, she’s truly so important?” Hilda asked. “So important that you’d call in hired help from day’s past?”

“If you’re up to the task,” Sheena nodded. “I am willed to pay half up from, half when the job is done, if the job is done.”

“The job will be done,” Cestus insisted. “You can lay your worries at the feet of another.”

“On the subject of money,” Hilda said. “we ought be prepare to grease the palms of those we press.”

“And for this I come prepared,” Sheena reached into the pack and pulled out two more drawstring bags. She opened them and deposited the contents on the table. Stacks of bills, each one with various denominations from high to low. “Suggestions?”

“You start here in Coral,” Hilda tapped her cane at a section of the map. “Cestus, go over here, and I…will take the district just south of Maussen.”

“There is a chance, of course, that the city watch will reach her before we do,” Cestus warned her. “They do seem overzealous in this task.”

“Our aim is to reach her alive,” Sheena said firmly. “And in this, I am even more zealous than they.”

“You speak fair,” Hilda agreed. “We meet here in four hours.”

“Also,” Sheena said, reaching into the pack again. She pulled out a small wooden box, which she laid on the table. Cestus whistled as she pulled open the lid to reveal six glass vials filled with a transparent liquid, each plugged with a wooden cork.

“That’s what I think it is?” Hilde leaned into inspect the vials.

“Aye,” Sheena confirmed. “Two for each of us.”

“You seem serious,” Hilda studied her carefully. “Are you quite sure you’re prepared for this?”

“I am a Rossi,” Sheena said with clear resolution. “My father saw to it that I would be prepared for situations such as this.”

“Your…father prepared you for espionage and armed combat?” Cestus raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound much like the Martin I knew.”

“He insisted that we be prepared for all scenarios we might encounter,” Sheena smirked. “Perhaps he didn’t plan for some of them to come to fruition.”

“Perhaps not,” Cestus shook his head. “Mind you keep yourself alive, girl; your father’d have my head if he knew I’d let you lose yours.”

“No heads will be lost today Cestus, save for theirs,” Sheena promised. Moments later, she and Calliope left the building, emerging into the back alley. They walked for a time, Calliope looking about nervously each time they turned a corner a crossed a side street. Overhead, the Brokenshire bridge loomed, casting a shadow over both the slums and their mood.

“That thing is so…tall,” Calliope said uselessly, prompting an eye roll from Sheena.

“The Brokenshire bridge normally is tall,” Sheena said with a condescending tone as she quickened her pace.

“It’s such an eyesore from down here! How do they stand seeing it all day?”

“This is what concerns you?” Sheena glanced back at her. “Your ‘friend’ could be facing certain death and you make to fret over the architecture of the Coral district?”

“I’m sorry Ms. Rossi, I didn’t mean-”

“If you must know, the placement of the Brokenshire bridge is an inconvenience to all who live down here,” Sheena said hurriedly as she turned another corner. “Those above benefit from the convenience it provides, those below are convinced as it provides no function to them. There is a disparity between the classes that you may be unaware of. Now, follow me.”

They crossed another busy intersection and entered a pub nearly bursting with people.

“Ms. Rossi, I think perhaps I’m too young to be here,” Calliope’s voice was barely audible over the roar of the patrons as they sang, shouted, and slammed wood and tin mugs against tables, but Sheena was able to pick it out anyway.

“You’re old enough to get my sister killed,” Sheena reminded her. “mind you hold your tongue if you’ve nothing of use to say.”

Sheena surveyed the room, finally setting her eyes on a darkened corner of the pub where six people sat around a table. She motioned to Calliope to follow and expertly made her way through the crowd, occasionally dodging the swinging arm of a drunk and making sure to interact as little as possible. Finally, she stood at the table and snatched an empty chair, pulling it out and sitting down amongst a group of dirty yet startled looking group of men, one of whom glared at her.

“Believe you’re at the wrong table, missy,” An older man said as he studied her and slowly reached below the table.

“I believe I can decide that for myself,” Sheena said sharply. She surveyed the table silently and observed the less than colorful array of seated individuals beneath the shade of the corner, tucked away from the other patrons and nearly immune to the wall of sound that had overpowered her moments ago. There were three older men, one who appeared to be middle age, and a platinum-blonde woman with a vertical scar running from the middle of her forehead to the bottom of her right eye. Lively bunch for sure. “I need information, and I suspect you can give it to me.”

“Now, little miss,” The middle aged man said with a stony expression. “You ought be careful coming in here making demands. You’ll just as soon find yourself carried yonder in a box.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sheena smiled and rested her chin on her palms, giving the man an almost girlish grin. “From the looks of you, your palms are a bit dry.”

The middle-aged man paused and looked to Sheena before glancing over to the woman beside him, then one of the men nodded.

“Girl, I doubt it quite much that you’ve enough grease for these palms,” The middle-aged man said. “still, say what you have to say and be off with you.”

“Might I know who I’m speaking with first?” Sheena smiled. “if we’re to do business then I would know your names.”

The man looked to his companions and shrugged. “I go by Byron, this is Charlotte, the others aren’t important.”

“‘Tis true,” One of the older men nodded. “Would rather he take all the credit anyhows, less chance of getting killed.”

Charlotte chuckled a little and then looked to Sheena expectantly. Sheena reached beneath the table, causing a moment’s tension all round, but reached into her jacket picket, removing a thick stack of bills, which she set on the table and laid her hand over, allowing the denominations to show just slightly. Byron eyed the stack and then show a look to Charlotte who shrugged.

“And just what is it you think we can help you with, little lady?’ Byron asked, his tone now far more serious.

“I’m looking for a girl,” Sheena said.

“Lots of girls around here,” Byron gestured to the room. Sheena resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“A girl taken,” She said. “By undesirables.”

“Ought be careful, girl,” Charlotte warned. “We’re all undesirables by your know.”

“She’s probably speaking of Old Jaf,” Byron said. “The old man takes girls, and boys, sells em’ off to the work houses. Ain’t seen to many come out o’ those places. Chain em’ to a line, make em’ work their fingers raw. Most of em’ die from the lash, or infection. Best they die quick, heard of some losing their legs, they just take a hot iron to the cut so’s infection don’t take em and have em’ keep workin’. If Old Jaf has your girl, she’s prolly chained up to a table as we speak. She ain’t got long, they don’t last more than a few months, year if they’re lucky.”

“And where can I find such a work house?” Sheena’s expression grew grim.

“That’ll cost you,” Charlotte warned. “Byron’s given too much for free as it is.”

Sheena looked from Byron to Charlotte, then nodded and slid the stack across the table. Byron reached out with a leathery hand and took the stack, flipping through it was if he were about to deal a deck of cards. He studied the denominations, a hint of disbelief in his eyes as he handed it to Charlotte.

“Old Jaf sells them to the Coral workhouse,” Byron said. “I haven’t the know what you’re about to do about it. Place is buttoned up tight, y’see. Unless you’ve got an army, you’ll not get near the doors.”

“Is there another entrance?” Sheena asked, her question more of a suggestion.

“Aye, always another entrance,” Charlotte said. “Down by the Coral tenements, green quarter. Anyone worth their salt’d know that.”

“Could you perhaps arrange a meeting with Old Jaf?” Sheena suggests.

“A meeting?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

Sheena declined to answer the question and instead reached into her pocket, pulling out another stack of bills and resting them against the surface of the table.

“Where’s a girl like you get that kind of silver in any case?” Byron demanded. Sheena cocked an eyebrow.

“My finances are my business, and you ought mind your own,” Sheena suggested. Charlotte laughed.

“Aye, just give the girl what she wants,” Byron said, resigned. Charlotte laid a scrap of paper on the table, scribbling a few lines and then handed it to Sheena who took it and gave it a brief glance before folding it and sliding it into her jacket pocket.

“Be there, five o’clock, if you want to meet Old Jaf,” Byron said.

The conversation dragged out for another ten minutes, and when she and Calliope left the pub, they had learned almost everything they needed to know; save for the location of the work house entrance.

The trouble we go to for this girl, Sheena thought as she walked down the street with Calliope. No, she mustn’t think that. Lyra was more than worth the trouble; she was her sister.

“Where are we going?” Calliope asked as she tried her best to keep up. Sheena glanced back at her and then returned her attention to the street ahead.

“Back to the hideout,” Sheena said dismissively. “We need to meet with the others.”

“What about that Old Jaf person? Isn’t that who you need to see?”

“You’re a sharp one,” Sheena muttered. She gripped Calliope’s upper arm, weathering an array of protests as she quickened her pace and ducked into an alley that ultimately led to the hideout. Once inside they found it empty.

“Where is everyone?” Calliope wondered aloud.

“Well you see, Calliope,” Sheena rolled her eyes as she deposited Calliope in a chair. “When people leave a building they’re no longer in it, so…”

“Must you treat me as a child?” Calliope demanded, crossing her arms.

“Calliope,” Sheena glared down at her. “You are most certainly not at or above the age of majority, and you are not in any position to make demands. What did you hope to gain from my sister?”

“Gain?” Calliope demanded. “Gain? Why would I gain anything?”

“I know who you are Calliope Hedgwin, your family isn’t nearly as well off as mine. Were you after money?”

“No!” Calliope spat. “I enjoyed her company!”

“Did you, then?” Sheena rolled her eyes. “So much so that you decided her life was worth less than yours? Tell me, what did you do to save her?”

“I gave way to panic!” Calliope said angrily. “Tell you would not do the same!”

“Where it comes to my sister? No. And where it came to your friend, you should have practiced diligence, if not for the love of your friendship, then for your fear of me. What will you do to save her now?”

“What would you have me do?” Calliope rose, coming face to face with Sheena who regarded her with a stone-like expression. The room, once an echo-chamber for their angered shouts was now deathly silent as they stood before the waning light of dusk shining in muted yet beautiful reddish-brown tones through the filthy casement window.

“I would have you swear,” Sheena said.

“Swear?”

“Swear,” Sheena repeated. She reached to her hip and pulled the dagger from the leather sheath; it came forth with a hiss as the tempered blade drug against the sheath’s metal lining. She hefted it in her palm for a moment, her eyes drilling into Calliope’s soul before she finally opened her hand and twisted the handle in Calliope’s direction, holding it out to her, expectantly. The girl stared, wide eyed at the dagger and Sheene pushed it toward her, her eyes widening as she nodded toward it. “Swear.”

“Surely we can…think of another way,” Calliope stammered, shrinking back. Sheena stepped forward, following her until she bumped into the wall with a ‘thud’. Calliope started and looked from left to right, her eyes searching for an escape that didn’t exist. Sheena once again held the knife out to her, and rather nervously, Calliope took it between two fingers and held it out in front of her as Sheena took a half step back. She reached out and took Calliope’s hand, correcting her hold on the knife, and then took her other trembling hand and laid it against the sharp of the blade.

“Swear it,” Sheena said again, her voice firm, yet somehow just above a whisper. “Say the words. You know them.”

“I…” Calliope choked as Sheena pressed the blade into her palm. She winced, her lower lip trembling, accompanied by the gentle drip of blood against the wood floor. Warmth sprang forward from the cut, blood trickling across the blade and across the top of Sheena’s hand as she stared into Calliope’s eyes. “I…uh-”

“Say it.”

“I swear…I swear by…” Calliope stammered again and took a quick glance toward the window before looking back to Sheena. “by fen and fern, by the black of sound and sea, twixt the gaze of sky and ground, I give to you my oath. My life to hers, should fate call, my life to yours, should it save hers.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Sheena whispered as she pulled the blade clear of Calliope’s hand, searing through the flesh and allowing Calliope to slide down the wall, her tiny body trembling as Sheena smirked and stepped away. She wiped the blade on her pants and slid it back into the sheath. The sound of Cestus clearing his throat came from the door, prompting Sheena to turn and behold both he and Hilda standing beneath the frame. Hilda placed a hand on her hip and shook her head while Byron simply walked back into the room, leather satchel in hand. He dropped it onto the table with a thud and then turned, laying his palms against the table as he leaned back.

“Are you quite done scaring the girl, then?” He asked in at one that did not betray either sincerity or sarcasm.

“Not nearly,” Sheena shook her head. “What did you learn?”

“Several things,” Hilda said, stepping out of the door and walking to join Cestus by the table. She spread the map out again and dropped her revolver at the corner to weight it. “The Maussen district is most definitely being blocked off, and some investigation has revealed that your father is rather angry.”

“Angry, you say?” Sheena grinned.

“Indeed,” Hilda nodded. “It would seem that he wishes to know the whereabouts of his youngest daughter, he believes that she is off on some foolhardy adventure.”

“Were it that he paid attention,” Sheena said. “he would know that his youngest daughter has been abducted.”

“Be that was a it may,” There was a warning in Hilda’s voice. “He has hired a sizeable force to bring you in, though, we both know it may not be enough, given that he gave you his skills.”

“Let us hope he chose his help poorly,” Sheena smirked again. “What else?”

“A trader in flesh, namely children, by the name of Old Jaf is searching the slums in desperation,” Cestus informed her. “it seems his employees lost their latest acquisition, and she may be running free with forbidden knowledge. Perhaps knowledge of a substantial stockpile of goods.”

“Goods pilfered from the people, perhaps?” Hilda smiled.

“Your powers of deduction are sharp, as always,” Cestus nodded.

“The girl,” Sheena nodded. “Lyra?”

“Known to those in the know by the name of Allie,” Cestus said. “Matches the description you gave, in any case. Old Jaf searches for her in the Jovial district.”

“Jovial?” Sheena raised an eyebrow. “I was to meet Old Jaf just south of Maussen. That is…minutes from here. Jovial hours away, by and by.”

“Then it seems you have been laid a trap,” Hilda smiled. “Whatever shall we do about that?”

“We spring, the trap, of course,” Sheena smiled.

“Why is it wet?” I lifted my foot and shivered in the waning light as I looked at the standing water forming a thin film over the brick road, stretching from one end of the street to the other. Quinn shot me an almost amused look, then shook his head.

“Drainage problems, kid,” He shook his head. “The pipework below Jovial have been clogged since as long as I remember.”

“How long is that?”

He let out a quick sigh, less in exasperation and more in deep thought. We stood at the mouth of a darkened alley; in the yellow glow of a tall street lamp I could see darkened store fronts and poorly painted signs indicating their purpose. The defeated murmur of ragtag citizens provided a dismal ambiance to our muted conversation and the despair of the situation was more than evident. Quinn took a pause for a moment, his breath manifesting tangible form in the cool night air. 

“I was a tad younger than you,” He said solemnly. “A good fifteen years then.”

“And it’s never been fixed, in all this time?”

“The High Lady is more interested in her war with Axock,” Quinn said, venom tainting his words. “But in some ways, it is difficult to hold her to blame for such. That man, Stephan Lavoric, a monster surely and his son is even worse. I could tell you the tale of Plum, and that’d try your nerves for sure.”

“Plum?” I did my best to steady my voice and keep my show of interest to a minimum, but my heart began to race. Plum. I could remember her, the timid little girl from the airship, the girl in the cage. The girl who had died. Died because of me. 

“Aye, Plum. The girl we sent to Axock to share her know with us. Lavoric’s son took her hand, his daughter nearly saw her dead. She barely made her way here, a bloody mess, not a clue where she was. She lives, of course, but that’s another matter.”

“She lives?” It came as a whisper as Quinn looked to me, puzzled. 

“Did you know her?”

“Mr. Mallory,” a voice in the darkness called out from behind us; one of Quinn’s henchmen. “The Valorant is docked at the tertiary spire. We ought make our way to the rendezvous. I’ve word from Melina that someone’s been asking after Old Jaf. Someone with money.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Quinn smirked. “Well, we are short on time, but I suppose we ought put down that loose end before it gets any looser.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” The man grunted.

“Well, Allie,” Quinn tipped his hat. “We’ll take our leave then.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to leave anyone behind to rescue me from this ‘distraction’,” I looked at him in resignation as he shook his head. 

“Apologies, Allie,” He smiled. “Sacrifices must be made.”

“For food,” I said, trying to hide my anger. “You’ll leave me to them for a bit of food.”

“For the greater good,” He corrected me. “Besides, should you run quickly, you might just make it. I doubt it though, Old Jaf hires some splendid help.”

Quinn placed a hand on my left shoulder, gave me a twisted smile, and then pushed me from the mouth of the alley, into the street. My shoes splashed against the soaked brick as I stumbled backward, doing a partial spin as I faced a passing cart pulled by an emaciated-looking horse. I stumbled out of the way as it passed, looking upward at the painted wooden sides, a colorful logo advertising the sale of some miracle product that probably didn’t work. As it passed an array of sensations assaulted me; the scent of human excrement accompanied by the sound of rushing water from the sewer trains set into the sides of the road, capped with rusting covers that bore the Auglire crest. The street was set in a slight downhill grade, twisting through towering mismatched buildings that were now blanketed by the darkness of night. Each structure did its part to push back the growing darkness with the air of candle-lit window panes that glowed yellow in defiance; a warmth that didn’t extend to the chilly dampened streets that began to close in around me as I folded my arms across my chest, hugging myself to keep warm. The cart wheels clattered away, becoming increasingly distant as I made my way down the street, dampness soaking into my chemise and overdress while the eyes of passers by followed my movements. Each person I passed had one thing in common; they were dressed in rags or threadbare coats or dresses. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my freshly washed dress, even more so that it retained is brighter color. My clean hair and skin likely didn’t help either. Wouldn’t it have been nice if Quinn had let me roll around in the mud before tossing me out here? No, that was probably the point.

I transitioned from the street to another alley, passing between two buildings and squeezing past a poorly placed refuse bin as I pushed deeper into the darkness. Quinn had dropped me here for a reason; he’d said that Old Jaf hired the best people and there was more than a strong chance I’d been spotted already. I was a problem: a girl who knew the location of some stupid warehouse in the armpit of Auglire. A loose end that needed to be tied up. I thought about this, and as I came to a cross-section between buildings, I tried my best not to think about the fact that I would never see Sheena again. Sheena; the woman who had made me her sister, the woman who had seen potential in me where there as none. How I had failed her. If I had just listened to her then I could be sitting in the servant quarters right now, pouting on my bed and complaining to Jenise about how I’d been wronged. Instead I was here, tucked away, lost in the looming back alleys of Auglire’s Jovial district, ready to be snatched up at any moment. Then, suddenly my thoughts were interrupted.

I felt it before I saw it; the sensation of eyes looking in my direction and then from the corner of my eye I saw the cloaked figure sulking in the shadows behind me. So they’d found me. Already. What did Quinn expect to happen? Of course, he’d thrown me into a main thoroughfare wearing clean clothing, ensuring that I’d draw massive amounts of attention. There was little doubt that Old Jaf’s people had seen me, and even littler doubt that the word had spread. People were coming for me, maybe even lots of them. Whoever was behind me, it was the first of many. No. I wouldn’t let them catch me.

I broke into a run, chemise slapping against my bare legs as I rounded a corner, accompanied only by the damp chilled air and the sound of my feet slapping against the bricks. My heavy, erratic breathing soon joined the cadence; Miach Lavoric may have been in fantastic shape at one point, but Lyra had put him through the ringer with her lack of attention to exercise. Maybe I should work on that. I passed another alley as I delved deeper into the decrepit back streets, my foot smashed against a rotting head of lettuce, and as I move forward, I leapt back in surprise as I stumbled over a sleeping man, who glared at me from below with sunken eyes, snarling with a mouthful of rotting teeth. He barked something at me about finding my own alley to sleep in, and I turned, running in the opposite direction without even uttering a word of apology. As I stood at the mouth of another intersection, I peered into the darkness while filthy water from a gushing pipe pooled around my feet, sending a chill up my spine as my teeth began to violently chatter. I could barely make put the shapes in the darkness, two men in narrowly brimmed caps and motorcar coats making their way in my direction through a billowing cloud of steam rising from sewer grates and filling the alley with heavily varied gradients of white, illuminated weakly by the moonlight overhead. Two more. Two more men coming for me. The cloaked figure further back, these two approaching from the side. I would be surrounded in minutes. Panic set in as I turned and bolted back down the alley in the direction of the sleeping man. The hem of my dress was soaked, the material clinging to my legs as I shot past the man who shouted another objection in my direction. They were getting closer; I could feel it. To my left, affixed to a building, an iron ladder. I grabbed the first rung and clambered up, the metal shaking and clattering against the brick as I pushed my way upward toward the top of the building. Bounding over the side, I stumbled onto the roof and my feet connected with gravel as I passed beneath an aging billboard advertising some product I didn’t recognize, its message amplified by the image of a scantily clad woman holding a bottle. I ducked beneath the metal supports and skidded across a thick layer of gravel until I found a pile of wooden crates stacked haphazardly and partially obscured by a canvas tarp. I dropped to the ground, sweating profusely, and laid my back against the crates, keeping my ears open to see if I’d been followed. Sure enough, the sound of the wrought iron ladder clanking against the side of the building could be plainly heard in the darkness, and I found myself clenching my fists as footsteps crunched against gravel. 

“You sure she came up here?” A man’s voice asked.

“Sure as shootin’, I did,” A second man confirmed.

“Aye, let’s check over there, Old Jaf wants this one alive. Says Greta let her sneak off she did.”

“Greta’s an idiot,” The second man scoffed.

“You’ll find no argument here. We’ll check the crates by yonder.”

I had chosen my hiding place poorly; there was no chance of escape, unless… 

I looked to the edge of the building; I could use the same trick here, maybe. If my supposed healing abilities worked the same way every time, could I just jump and wait for my body to recover? It would depend: if they saw me, then they could simply pick me up and cart me off to Old Jaf, assuming they knew that I could heal. Then again, would I heal, or would I just die? It would depend on me doing this quietly, no matter what. I rose to my haunches and quietly crept alongside the pile of crates, listening closely for the sound of footsteps that might indicate the men moving in my direction. I heard nothing, so I pushed on, past the crates, rounding the corner and pressing my back to the loose canvas. Ahead of me I could see the edge of the building, perhaps two hundred yards away across a sea of pipes and utility cabinets jutting from the gravel. 

Quickly and quietly, I pushed away from the crates and moved over to the first cabinet, pressing my back against it just as I heard a set of footsteps move past. Had he seen me? A white chemise underneath a bright overdress probably wasn’t difficult to miss even in the darkness, so had I moved fast enough? I sat there listening, my skin tightening as my body tense and my breath held in my swelling chest as I surveyed the area with my head down and my ears open. In the silence, something in the distance caught my eyes; I looked toward the sky and my shivering came to a brief halt as I beheld the sight of a dirigible floating past. A white, rigid bullet shaped mass with a steel undercarriage featuring eight long windows. Was that the airship Quinn had talked about? I shook my head and returned my attention to the current situation; airships and revolutionaries mattered very little to me right now as I was likely about to die, or at the very least spend the rest of my life chained up in some work house. 

Hearing no footsteps, I rose quietly and put one foot in front of the other, back hunched as I made my way toward a jutting steel chimney. Four feet to go. Three. Two- a rough hand encircled my arm and jerked me back. I screamed as the world spun around me and I was thrown to the rooftop, slamming hard against the utility cabinet as pain wracked my body. I pushed myself to my feet and scrambled forward, desperate to make it to the edge of the roof. I had to do it, even if they saw me, I had to do it. I had to get away. Before I could go more than few inches, the hand grabbed me again; the man dragged me across the gravel, back toward the billboard as I screamed and batted wildly with my free hand. My legs kicking, my feet trying to find purchase.

“Let me go!” I shrieked. “Put me down!”

“This one’s got spirit, don’t she?” The man laughed as he tossed me forward, directly into the arms of the other man who gripped my shoulders and and looked into my eyes. I recoiled as I realized that he was missing his entire right eye and a scarred gash ran across it, down his cheek as his expression culminated in a twisted grin. 

“Spirit or not, Old Jaf will see her broken,” The man grinned again. “And we’ll have our fun before that.”

“Aye, that we will,” The other man laughed. 

“Will you then?” A new voice asked. Both men froze and looked in the direction of the ladder where the cloaked figure stood, face obscured and two short blades held in its hands. A female voice. Who was it? My mind raced as the first man dropped me and turned his attention to the figure.

“Who the blazes are you?” He demanded, reaching inside his coat. When his hand withdrew he was holding a long-barred revolver and with a single motion, he raised it, the hammer clicking into place. But the figure was gone; she bolted to the right, jumping onto a crate as gravel spewed across the rooftop where her foot had once rested. The revolver fired, and I yelped in surprise as the bright orange muzzle flash brought with it a shattering crack that broke the night. I could see her form in the air, cloak fluttering behind her as she descended, blade sweeping toward the first man as he raised an arm, blocking the blade with his forearm. To my surprise there was no blood, just the ringing of steel against steel as he pushed her blade aside with a shielded arm. The figure stepped back quickly, dodging a clumsy blow from the second man who lurched forward and was easily dispatched by an expert blow from the woman’s open palm. She skidded between them as the second man fell and the first man leveled his revolver again, firing in her direction but missing entirely while while swept a dagger beneath his arm, slicing him through the abdomen as he screamed in pain. The revolver dropped to the gravel; he staggered backward, grasping desperately at his stomach as blood dripped to the stones. He coughed and sputtered; blood flowed from his mouth and he dropped to his knees, finally falling sideways as the life fled from his body. The cloaked figure stepped to the second man, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat as she pushed him toward the edge of the rooftop. His pleas for mercy were coldly ignored as she drove her dagger into his stomach with her free hand, and then expertly skewered the side of his neck, tearing outward and throwing him from the roof. In stunned silence, I climbed to my feet and staggered backward, nearly tripping over the corpse of the man at my feet. Whoever this cloaked figure was, she had found me before the others. Who was she? Some other mercenary hired by Old Jaf? Someone who wanted to find me first? I had to run, I had to get out of here. Too late: she turned toward me, quickly crossing the rooftop and making her way toward me. Finally, she stood just a few feet from me, I froze as she studied me and contemplated my routes of escape. There were no routes of escape! She had just taken out two men by herself, where was I going to go? She sheathed her daggers beneath her coat, and then reached a hand up to grip the hem of her hood. As she revealed her face, I gasped in shock: Melina. 

“What…how?” I blubbered. “But-”

“But what?” She demanded. “Is it then, that you thought we’d leave you to die?”

“I…I assumed!” I said, my eyes widening. “Those men…you…you killed them!”

“Those men were set to violate you and sell you to chattel and you’re concerned for their well being? Whoever you are, Allie, you’re not suited to this kind of life.”

“I never said I was!” I protested. “I’m just…I just want to go home!”

“Aye? And just where would home be? No, don’t tell me. We must move; I just put two men of Old Jaf’s employ to the blade and one of them’s poolin’ blood in the streets. This place’ll be crawlin’ soon. Old Jaf’s gonna think you did the deed and he’ll send all he can spare. He ain’t one to suffer such indignities.”

“They’re coming to kill me?”

“What were you doing out there in the streets?” Melina shook her head before reaching beneath her cloak and handing me a thin vial filled with a blue liquid. “lay that on your tongue.”

“What is it?” I asked, wide eyed as I took the vial from her.

“Arctesonite,” she said plainly. “Refined to it’s third form. The first form is red, the second is blue; this one’s edible. Drink it and it’ll heighten your senses, but mind that you don’t lose them as well.”

“And you…want me to drink this?”

“I want you to do it fast,” She said sharply. “We ‘aven’t the time to tarry here!”

Resigned, I pipped the cork and pressed the vial to my lips. Tilting my head back, I allowed the foul tasting liquid to spill down my throat. As she promised, my senses immediately improved. The night seemed a little brighter, actually, it was almost as if I were standing there in daylight, and my ears could hear the sounds of individual, distinct voices on the streets below. They were screaming, shouting, fretting over the body that Melina had thrown to the streets. Carriage wheels, pushing, shoving, confusion. All of these overwhelmed me until Melina grab my shoulder and shook me. 

“We haven’t the time!” She hissed. “Come!” 

We broke into a run, toward the ladder and I immediately realized that my movements were faster, more precise. As we reached the edge, instead of descending the ladder, she founded the side of the building and lept across the gap with little effort. She landed on the opposite rooftop which was a slated gable rather than a flat one that she’d left. I froze, watching her in awe as she balanced there perfectly, motioning for me to follow. With little choice, I sucked in a breath and bolted toward the edge. I lept across just as she had, and to my utter shock, my muscles responded accordingly, pushing me through the air much faster and much further than I ever had before. The alleyway beneath soared past as the slate roof rushed at me; I threw my hands in the air to guard my face and slammed into the slate, rolling across it as a few shingles cracked beneath the sudden impact. 

“Really?” Melina demanded as I came to a halt and managed to remain my feet, balancing on the side of the rooftop. 

“What do you want from me?” I shouted angrily, my voice cracking. She shook her head and ran toward me, grabbing me by the arm and ushering me toward the edge of the roof, guiding me through another jump, then another, then another. We jumped across five rooftops, six, seven, and then another until finally she stopped and cursed as she looked behind her. There were four men scrambling up the building, one of them moving quickly with the same heightened reflexes that we now possessed. How many people had this stuff?

“Come on!” Melina grabbed me again, running toward the edge of the roof and dragging us off. We fell for perhaps six seconds and then slammed against the cobblestones. The fall took nothing out of me. I looked to her, she pointed down the alley. We emerged into an a decrepit courtyard tucked between four large buildings as we melded almost seamlessly into a crowd of filthy people. As we pushed through, I noticed a row of coffin-like boxes on the ground, each one open to the air many of them containing people in various states of rest. 

“What’s this?” I asked her as we brushed past. 

“What’s what?” She demanded. “Come, we have to go!”

“Why are those people in those boxes?”

“Oh, that? Homelessness is rampant, people will pay good money for a place to lay their head for an hour or two.”

“They’re paying to sleep?!”

“Aye, the boxes are a commodity. There’s chairs over there, a shilling to sit, two to sleep.” 

“That’s…that’s awful!” I exclaimed. 

“I do wonder where you’re from,” She said to me. “That you’ve never heard of such things. This is why Quinn fights, the fight that the Lady Jenwise should be fighting, you understand.”

No, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be. There was no way that the Lady could be this callous, but as we pushed further in the evidence was harder to ignore. I saw the people in the chairs, I gawked at the sight of a man taking payment as ragged, emaciated men and women ate eagerly from a refuse bin. No, I didn’t want to believe it! This wasn’t real! People didn’t live like this! 

“Would you move?” Melina demanded, pulling at my arm again. “Old Jaf is going to have the city bearing down on us, you have no concept of what’s happening!”

“But these people!” I shrieked. “Why isn’t anyone helping them?”

“We are,” She growled. “by getting those supplies, by fighting against the High Lady’s tyranny. Now come!”

She grabbed me again and pushed us into a small nook just as a group of armed men passed. She waited a moment and peeked out, signaling that the way was clear.

“Wait,” I froze in place, pulling back into the nook, pressing against the wall. She turned and glared at me. 

“I said I wouldn’t leave you to die,” She said curtly. “If you’ll stay to your fate then I’m not disposed to stop you.”

“Look at me!” I said. She turned toward me and her eyes met mine. “Am I not familiar to you?”

She studied me for a moment and then nodded subtly. “Aye, I did always feel you looked a tad familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”

“Look closely,” I said. “What do your eyes tell you?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell that, and we haven’t an abundance of time.”

“Are you telling me that the High Lady has caused this suffering?” I demanded. “Are you saying that she could stop this, and refuses?”

“That is what I’m saying,” She said. “It is what I’ve been saying, but what’s it to you? You didn’t even know of it until this hour past.”

I swallowed and squeezed my eyes shut, my heart pounding in my chest at what I was about to do. 

“Look at my face and see that of Micah Lavoric, heir to the the Lavoric fortune and traitor to his realm. Look at me and see the daughter of Martin Rossi. Look at me and know that I will do my part to stop this suffering. By fen and fern, I will aid your cause.”

“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….”

These ‘people’ are what?” Sheena demanded. “Say what you mean, girl.”

“They’re disgusting, look at them!”

“Because they’re dirty?”

“They could do better. My family does better, your family does better,” Calliope looked at the crowd with disdain as she fell into step beside Sheena. “Why do they tarry about in the streets instead of making their lives better? Why do they do…evil things to people like Lyra?”

“Evil things?” Sheena scoffed. “Calliope, my sister is too good for you and your small mind. You see that boy over there? The one against the wall, the one missing his leg?”

“Aye, I see him,” Calliope confirmed as they passed the boy.

“My father, and mother, taught me to not only see the people but to see their struggle. What do you see when you look at that boy?”

“A beggar, of course,” Calliope scowled. They rounded a corner and passed beneath a swinging shop sign, on the opposite side of the street, a man in a sleek black waistcoat shouted through a paper megaphone. The words ‘come one, come all’ were all that Sheena managed to catch as they dipped through another crowded pocket and the voice was lost beneath the sound of rushing water from a sewer grate beneath their feet.

“A beggar, aye,” Sheena said in agreement. “And is that a life you would choose?”

“Obviously not!” Calliope spat. “I would choose better for myself! As should he!”

“And if no one gives him opportunities?”

“He should make them!”

“With one leg?” Sheena raised an eyebrow and then shook her head. “Your mind is tainted with the opportunities you have been afforded. That boy is hungry, if you were to give him the means to fight, he would kill for a crust of bread. The people who have taken Lyra are in a similar state but they have the means to fight. That is all. Do not hate them. Pity them.”

“And if Lyra dies?” Calliope demanded. “Will you not hate them then?”

“I hate what is done to them, and I will hate what I do to them in turn, but them, I do not hate. We’re here.”

Calliope looked around, confusion painting her expression as she tried to discern where ‘here’ was. They had crossed through an alleyway and emerged into a large open area flanked by two buildings far enough apart to give the spot a wide open feel in the shape of an asymmetrical square. They stood next to a wall covered partially by a wrought iron trellis choked with vines, beneath which ran small open gutter through which filthy water rushed beneath the open mouth of a nearby wall. The center of the square featured a well forged from brass that had clearly seen better days as the shiny brown coloring had given way to rampant oxidation. As Calliope’s eyes traveled upward she beheld the buildings both of which must have been a little over forty feet in height. Strung from one side to the other, cables ran from either side of the square, dozens of them in random placement all the way to the top, most of them draped with assorted clothing, drying in the ‘fresh air’. That is of course if you considered the steam-permeated air, hanging with rancid stench to be fresh. From multiple grates throughout the square, intermittent pillars of white steam spurted, giving an eerie ambiance to the quickly darkening area. Sheena’s eyes surveyed the chaos of the chosen spot, careful not to glance toward the windows.

“And just where is here?” Calliope asked with a hint of fear in her shaken voice. As if in answer to her question, a figure appeared from the steam. Sheena squinted, trying to make him out, but he was cloaked heavily in black, face masked with a thick mask that stopped just below his eyes. A wide brimmed hat easily concealed the rest of his identifying features.

“Old Jaf, I presume?” Sheena suppressed a smile. The figure cocked his head.

“That’s very humorous,” The figure said. His voice was heavily muffled by the mask but Sheena could at least tell that he was a man. A less than imposing man, but a man nonetheless. “Old Jaf sent you here to recover the girl, and I’m here to tell you that it’ll never happen. In fact, you’re going to take me to him.”

“Am I?” Sheena smirked. “Seems we have a bit of a misunderstanding here.”

“The misunderstanding is yours,” The man nodded toward one of the upper windows, Sheena glanced upward to see a glint of metal aiming down at her. “My snipers were in place long before you arrived.”

“I see,” Sheena smiled. “And your demands?”

“You take me to Old Jaf, we kill him. you shan’t expect a rescue, we have nearly all of the old man’s hired help busy in the Jovial district.”

“What a shame,” Sheena almost imperceptibly gave a half-hearted eye roll. “Now, here is my offer. You take me to the girl, Allie. You hand her over, and we rid ourselves of this ugly business.”

“And how many more innocent girls after that?” The man demanded. “No, I think I’ll see you and the old man dead.”

“I don’t suppose it would help to say I’m not working for Old Jaf. Is your mind made up then?”

“I know your kind,” The man snarled. “We’ll be rid of you sooner or later. Just give us time.”

As he finished speaking, from the far window, a muffled scream, rang out, and then the thud of a body fallen from height. The man looked over in surprise as he beheld one of his snipers laid on the bricks, his throat slit, blood gushing like crimson rivers through the cracks.

“One way, or another, I’ll have the girl,” Sheena said roughly. “And then I’ll have you. Are we clear?”

“You can’t truly think-” before he could finish his sentence, another body dropped from the far window, another sniper, this one with a broken neck.

“How many did you have again?” Sheena grinned. “A fine game this is.”

The man paused and then looked in what Sheena perceived as panic from left to right. His body tensed, his left foot a step behind him, the sole of his boot grinding the brick beneath them in anticipation. He was going to run.

“Kill her!” He finally shrieked to his minions still unseen. “Cut her down!”

The square erupted into a hail of gunfire; Calliope dropped to the ground, hands over her head as she screamed in horror. Sheena ran forward, toward the cloaked man, lead biting the ground at her heels as she vaulted over the brass well, her hand immediately reaching beneath her coat, fingers curling around the wooden handle and feeling metal of the curved trigger as she slid it from the leather holster just beneath her right arm. The muzzle flashed and gave slight recoil as she discharged the firearm in the direction of the fleeing man; she couldn’t tell if it landed, but if it did, he was still awfully agile. His cloak fluttered behind him as he bolted through the alley, Sheena in tow amidst a hail of gunfire directed at her. Behind her, in the increasingly distant square, she could hear the occasional scream and the ‘thud’ of another body while Cestus and Hilda did their best work.

The man turned a corner, Sheena followed and kept close as he mounted a steel ladder, clambering up a fire escape and tearing up a rickety stair alongside a tall brick building. The fire escape shot off into a catwalk that ran alongside the building past tall darkened windows. Sheena’s footsteps clattered against the grated steel as she gave chase, firing the occasional shot at the fleeing man. Her intention was to wound, but it quickly occurred to her that even a shot in the leg might prove fatal if he fell from this height. She had little time to think about it as they rounded a corner and passed toward the front of the building which faced a busy street. Below, she could see the elevated sidewalk next to a slightly higher train track lined with glowing street lamps. The sidewalk was lined with people even at this hour, even as the city grew darker, and the last thing Sheena wanted was to draw attention to herself. Time drew even shorter as the man, apparently not of the same opinion, half-turned and aimed an iron revolver in her direction; she barely had time to take cover behind a jutting support beam, placing her back to the steel girder-like construction as two shots rang out, bullets whizzing through the air by her head. She waited just seconds before lurching from cover and giving chase once again. He was already ahead of her - too far ahead. She cursed under her breath and put everything she had into quickening her pace. Wind rushed by her head, the sound of her footsteps filled her ears as she gritted her teeth and willed her legs to move faster. She had to catch him, she had to. He was her only lead, the only person who had any inclination as to where Lyra was. If she lost him, she lost Lyra. She focused on him; he was the only thing that existed. She became more than herself; she became the very wind that taunted and tormented her as she gave merciless chase. Without warning, the man cut left and lept from the catwalk, falling a good seven feet onto another fire escape below. He landed in a crouch, then took off again. Sheena followed suit, nearly rolling to the left as she made her landing; her eyes widened as she barely managed to grip the handrail and stop her inevitable fall.

Enough. She thought to herself angrily, reaching into her picket and withdrawing from her pocket one of the brass bullets that she’d set aside earlier, one dipped in the red liquid from the vial she’d brought with her. She curled her lip in disgust as she loaded the shell into the chamber, giving it a spin and slamming it shut. The back of the shell was marked with black ink, she could see it clearly, sitting in the cylinder, three from the hammer. She aimed and fired at the man. She missed.

One.

The chase continued to the sound of a passing train, she could hear the rumbling of the distant steam engine as massive spoked wheels raced against the steel track. The clanking of gears tore through the night and minute by minute overpowered her senses as they rushed between pools of glowing lamplight just above the third level of the fire escape. She took aim and fired again, the crack of gunfire was lost amidst the sound of chattering people below, punctuated by the roaring of train. The shot missed.

Two.

She breathed heavily, cool air filling her lungs beneath the light of the moon, amidst the roar of the train, the ambiance of steam rising from the streets below.

You are my sister, Lyra. I know you never wanted it, but I did. I wanted it because I never had a younger sister. I wanted it because I was selfish. I was selfish, Lyra, and you paid. If I die tonight, then I die for you. She raised the revolver once again, her feet slamming against the catwalk which now shook and strained, ever threatening to tear loose from its supports bolted into the side of the brick building. She looked down the barrel, the man visible in the sights as she ran, and then, she aimed downward, toward the catwalk just behind him. She squeezed the trigger, the chamber rotated, the hammer clicked as it fell back, and then forward.

Three.

The night exploded in a cloud of crimson, heat seared her face as the catwalk in front of her exploded, the remains of it dropping down and creating a crude ramp just before it broke off completely, taking the two of them down with it. They tumbled together in the darkness, a scream escaping her lips as she dropped onto the final catwalk just below. Her head slammed against the railing; pain blasted through her skull and red blotted her vision. She exhaled heavily as the breath was knocked out of her, but managed to regain her feet just in time to see the man staggering to his. He glared at her, hand still on his revolver as the took a step backward. She had him.

“What is wrong with you?!” He demanded. Sheena smiled even as blood trickled down the side of her face; she could feel the bruise forming around her eye even as she stood there. “Did you just fire an Arctesonite round? You could have killed both of us!”

Sheena’s grin faded as her fingers found purchase against the wooden grip of the revolver. She squeezed it and leveled it at the man’s head. “Take me to the girl!”

“Or what?” He began to move his hand to raise his own, but thought better of it when he took in Sheena’s hardened countenance. “You’ll blow up the rest of the building?!”

“I’ve little to lose,” She shrugged. She gave a quick glance to the walk below and her eyes widened a little as she saw the crowd scrambling, citizens quickly being replaced by swarms of uniformed men and women, each carrying their iron rifles. The city watch; they were too close to the Maussen district for her stunt to have gone unnoticed.

“You’ve brough the wrath of Auglire down on us,” He remarked. Sheena scowled. “They’ll kill us both, now.”

“Take me to her!” Sheena suddenly screamed, her body beginning to shake. The man recoiled a little, then raised an eyebrow beneath the brim of his hat. Beside them, the train ran parallel, its ebony chassis and cars illuminated brightly by spots mounted into the frame. Bright white light drowned them, each brief flood of illumination interspersed with a brief moment of blackness; the man studied Sheena’s soft features as they strobed against the night; black hair once tucked beneath the newsboy cap was now askew, haphazardly framing her features. He wondered to himself, how a tiny, petite girl such as this could pose such a brutal challenge. Finally, he sighed and turned to his right; with a single bound he mounted the railing, and then propelled himself forward in the direction of the moving train. Sheena screamed and with barely a moment’s hesitation, followed him.

She fell five feet, ten, twenty, and with each passing moment she wondered what she was thinking. Her father had taught her many things. Shooting, fighting, even basic engineering, but he’d never taught her how to fight atop a moving train, and he’d certainly never taught her to use Arctesonite in a revolver. She was out of her depth as she hurtled through the air toward the moving train. Another foot, then another. Finally, she landed crudely against the smooth surface, tumbling, writing, arms flailing as she tried to gain purchase and get to her feet. The world spun and pain shot through her side in reaction to the sudden impact. A scream unheard escaped her lips as wind pushed against her, its force rivaled only by the clattering of the spoked wheels beneath her. Somewhere ahead, the train whistle sounded, an oscillating tone searing through the dead of night. Her hand found something; a piece of railing jutting from the top of the car. She gripped it frantically, her movement stopped and she managed to work her way to her knees, one hand solidly gripping the bar as the rest of her body wavered. Squinting, she barely made out the image of the cloaked man as he made his way down the car ahead of her. She reached up and gripped the brass goggles around her neck; with one hand she managed to pull them into place, shielding her eyes from the onslaught of wind that threatened to hurl her from the train. As she did so, her cap came loose, flying from her head and off into the distance; she didn’t even bother to look back as her hair loosed, fluttering in the wind as she began to make her way forward.

It was easier than she thought; the train was moving fast but as long as she remained crouched, she found that she could move forward at a relatively quick pace so long as she kept one hand out for balance. The man, however, he was moving too fast. Had he done this before? Of course he’d done it before, why was she even wondering that?

The train continued its journey, presumably away from the Maussen district but the scenery shot by so fast, Sheena couldn’t be sure where they were at this point. She continued to move forward, quickening her pace, trying to match with the man but no matter how hard she pushed, he seemed to gain more distance with each passing second. The gap was opening faster than she wanted. Suddenly, her eyes widened beneath the goggles as a steel girder shot into view; a bridge support. She dropped to her knees again, this time going prone as the train passed beneath the bridge. To her relief, as it emerged on the other side, she saw the man standing from his own prone position. She pushed forward, faster this time, suddenly aware that her revolver was gone; it must have fallen from her hand when she’d lept from the fire escape. What did it matter, though? She couldn’t shoot him on a moving train! He, however, had different plans. She saw the muzzle flash, nearly too late, but managed to duck her head, the bullet whizzing past as her eyes widened and her bloodstained face paled. The pain in her left side was beginning go take its toll; it was a soreness that started at her forearm and increasingly traveled inward, her entire torso beginning to shriek with every single movement she made. She stumbled forward, ignoring the pain and trying to proceed under the power of pure adrenaline. She would catch him. She would. It was the only way to save Lyra.

She was beginning to gain on him, though her balance was thrown slightly askew as the train rounded a curve, changing direction and causing both of them to stagger. As they did, however, Sheena saw a rope ladder drop ahead of them; her eyes traveled upward and a gasp escaped her lips as a dirigible airship appeared above. The man had an airship?! She watched him move toward the ladder; she followed, suddenly breaking into a full run as the train slowed to accommodate for the curved portion of the track. She pushed through the pain, her hair flowing freely behind her as she began to gain on him. He was already on the ladder, already three rungs up by the time she reached it. Sucking in a breath, she lept forward, her arms outstretched and her feet dangling perilously beneath her as her fingers wrapped around the bottom rung. With the wind working against her, she grabbed the second rung, pulling herself up, her mouth open in a twisted scream lost in the wind as the ladder moved, carrying her away from the train tracks and across building, people, landmarks, and motorcars beneath her as if they were part of another world. She reached for the next rung, gripping it and pulling as the pain in her side began to dominate her. Yelping, she slipped and found herself hanging by one arm as the airship soared overhead. She cursed again, regaining her grip and pulling herself up another rung. Her feet touched the bottom rung and finally, she began to make some progress. The cloaked man wasn’t far ahead of her; he was having his own trouble climbing a moving rope ladder. She moved upward with little to no idea what she was going to do, but her next course of action was decided as a bullet whizzed past her head. She shrieked as her feet lost purchase and she found herself hanging again, now in mid-air and nowhere to go, the stranger pointing iron right at her head. Fortunately, he had his own troubles and was forced to grip the rung as the ladder shook, the airship hitting a pocket of turbulence.

He took aim again, firing, but missing again as his accuracy was affected by the shaking of the ladder. Another shot, this one nearly hitting home; Sheena screamed again as the lead tore through the outer layer of her right forearm; practically a hammer blow despite it barely touching her. The ladder shook again, and to her utter shock, the man dropped the revolver. She tried to reach for it as it fell, but missed entirely as it dropped into the night. With new resolve she drew her dagger, gripped it between her teeth and began to ascend, quicker now as she reached the man’s feet. He unsuccessfully kicked at her and she managed to dodge, her stomach lurching as she nearly lost her balance. Off in the distance, she saw the tertiary spire coming into view. So that’s where they docked this thing, of course; a station with little to no regulation. Where better to hide a giant rugging airship? As they passed over a slightly taller structure, she took her chance and ascended one more rung; removing the dagger from her mouth, she gripped it firmly in her left hand and drove it into the man’s calf. Even above the winds she could hear him howling in pain and felt his boot slam against her face as he fell from the ladder. She followed suit, dropping from the ladder, both of them tumbling across the rooftop and coming to a stop about ten feet away from eachother. Slowly and painfully, she climbed to her feet just in time to see the man dusting his cloak off.

“You’re persistent, little girl,” He huffed. “Old Jaf isn’t worth it, you know.”

“I don’t work for him,” Sheena said as she leveled the knife in front of her, ready to fight even though she had no fight left in her. The man furrowed his eyebrows and then shook his head.

“And you truly expect me to believe that?” He demanded. “Why else would you be looking for her?”

“My business is my own,” Sheena growled. “And I suggest you mind yours.”

“Strange assertion,” He mused. “But if you don’t work for Old Jaf, why would you go so far as to use the deadliest substance known to man on a catwalk just to catch me, and then leap onto a moving train?”

Sheena sighed and looked about. The airship was coming around, heading straight for him. She couldn’t take the man in a fight, not in her condition and it wouldn’t be long before he was back on the ladder. She could see him favoring that left leg, but she still doubted that she could get the drop on him. There was no choice now but to take her chances and come clean.

“I seek her, because she is important to me,” Sheena said, sucking in a breath and pursing her lips.

“Important to you how? One street urchin is just as another, though I have my doubts that she is such, given her ignorance.”

“Her ignorance grows on you,” Sheena rolled her eyes. “Her name is Lyra. Lyra Rossi. My name is Sheena Rossi. The girl is my sister.”

“Your…sister?” The man said as the words sunk in. “You mean-”

“I do,” Sheena nodded. “And now, stranger, I require use of your airship.”

“Say it again!” Melina once again grabbed me by the setting of my overdress, jerking me forward roughly and sending a tremor through my body just before she released and shoved me backward. I stumbled, tripping over the torn hem of the chemise, ultimately colliding with a wall and using my hands to steady myself. My face stung from the receipt of a slap moments earlier. She looked at me, staring daggers into my eyes, all kindness flushed from her countenance. The moment the words had left my mouth, the moment I’d told her who I was, or who I was inhabiting at the very least, she’d dragged me from the nook and brought us to this abandoned house. The floorboards rotted beneath us and the stench of death hung in the air, as it did in the entirety of this place, these slums. Behind her, a sliver of dull moonlight passed through a crack in the boarded up windows, giving us just the slightest bit illumination. I balled my fists and tensed my body, ready for the next hit, which came abruptly as her open palm slapped the side of my cheek, sending me reeling backward once again, this time to the floor where I collapsed into a pile of tears as the taste of blood filled my mouth. “Say it! If I must ask you again then I will end you in the slowest way I can manage!”

“I…I am…was Micah Lavoric,” I choked through swelling slips. “But I…I am Lyra now. He is far from my thoughts…I can’t-” My words were cut off as Melina screamed and brought her leather boot to my stomach. No scream escaped my lips; just a tattered wheeze that culminated in silent sobs as I curled into the fetal position and Melina crouched beside me.

“Am I to feel sorry for you?” She demanded, her voice just below a scream. “You take on new countenance and a new voice, and you expect those you hurt, those you killed to believe that you are made new? That you are to be absolved of yours sins? That those you crushed beneath the boot of Lavoric are to embrace you? Is it then that you tricked the Rossi family into embracing you? They would never accept Micah Lavoric with open arms after what his father did at Silverhall. You are an abomination and I will stamp you out once and for all!”

“Please,” I gasped. “Please, I wish to help!”

Another kick to my stomach pushed me into silence and as I lay there, bleeding, aching and whimpering I wondered what had possessed me to tell her who I’d been. No, who this body had been. In that single moment I had made what could be the worst decision of my life and I had no idea why I’d done it. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense! It was like I hadn’t even spoken of my own volition; the words had poured out and I had been helpless to stop them. But, no matter what, I was here to reap the consequences of those actions, and reap them I would. Melina paced the room in front of me, furiously kicking a broken chair; the pieces clattered across the floor, bumping into an old wine rack and sending dust particles into the air. I coughed and sputtered, climbing to my knees and whimpering as I clutched my bruised stomach. She spun and reached beneath her cloak; I cringed as a flash of steel glinted in the moonlight; her knuckles were white around the hilt.

“What of Plum, then? What have you to say of her?” She demanded. “You would have put her to the sword had she not escaped.”

“I don’t remember,” I wheezed. “I remember…I…”

“Silence yourself, Micah Lavoric!” Her use of his name sent a jolt through my body, I looked down at the floorboards, more audible sobs escaping my lips. “She was ours, you know. We sent her to watch you, to watch your father, to inform on his plans. The punishment given to her was not even for the crime of espionage. You did it because you wanted to! You left her to die because you enjoyed it! What of Fartham Rowan? The man left his daughter in my care as he set out on your father’s foolhardy expedition and then you ordered her death without so much as having laid eye on her! Countless others, dead because of you! So easy it would be to put you to the sword, Micah Lavoric! So easy it would be snuff out the force of your life and watch you bleed on the floor. What an insignificant death you’ll die here.”

“Then do it!” I shrieked suddenly, my lip curling in disgust. “If you truly believe the mantle of this suffering is mine to bear then put me to the sword! But if you must, then use my name, not the name of that coward! I am Lyra Rossi!”

“You are Micah Lavoric!” She screamed. “You are the spawn of a devil and you embraced his ways!”

“I am not him!” I shouted weakly. “The expedition, do you remember?! The one in which Fartham Rowan was sentence to die by the hand of Micah Lavoric?”

“By your hand, Micah Lavoric! By yours!”

“Micah Lavoric passed through the Stormveil. I, Lyra, returned in his stead. If you are as well informed as I believe you to be, then you know that Micah Lavoric entered the Stormveil! I speak the truth and I will help your cause!”

She faltered for a moment, the blade wavering in her hand as she studied me, trying to make sense of the words I’d said. Finally, she shook her head and snarled.

“Fantasies,” She scoffed. “Even at the end you speak in falsehoods. You are disgusting, Micah Lavoric. You are a coward!”

“My name is Lyra,” I said evenly, somehow managing to rise to my feet. I watched her, allowing the rest of the room and the world to fade away. It was all gone now. This room. This city. Sheena. All of it was now beyond my reach. My choices had led me to this point; the choice to defy her, the choice to follow Calliope, the choice to tell Melina my true origin. It was all clear to me now; I had brought myself here and I was going to die here. That was fine. Maybe it would mean something for her, maybe it would help her. Maybe it would help Quinn. I felt a pang of guilt for how I had abandoned Sheena, and how she would never know what had happened to me, and tried to find solace in the knowledge that it was out of my control. She raised the blade, casting the folds of her cloak behind her shoulders as she stepped toward me. A single swipe would probably do it. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, wondering if I could even die. I waited some more, my boding tensing again in anticipation, awaiting an impact that never came. I opened my eyes a squint to see her standing there, head turned as she looked toward the door.

“You say you’re not him,” She turned back to me slightly, hefting the blade in her hand. I nodded. “I don’t believe you, but your words are spoken with truth, that much I will give you.”

“The truth is all I have to offer.”

“And you say you will aid our cause.”

“By fen and fern,” I said firmly.

“Our cause is to unseat the Lady Jenwise,” She told me. “By way of politics, if possible, but if such an endeavor should fail, then by way of force. For that you would be forced to betray your…the Rossi family. That is, if you wish to leverage their resources for the cause.”

“Those…those people need help,” I whispered; she kept her eyes on me as I did my best to straighten my back and stand fully upright. “What can I do?”

She opened her mouth, perhaps to answer, but she then closed it, sealing her lips and cocking her head as if to listen to the world beyond the door of the abandoned house.

“Shit.”

There was a growing disturbance beyond the door of the abandoned house; the sound of voices, of footsteps, and I could only assume this was abnormal. Melina confirmed it a moment later.

“No one ever walks this street,” She said, a hint of panic intruding on her otherwise even, controlled tone. “We’ve brought their wrath down on us.”

“Who?”

“Everyone,” She said simply. “I want you dead, Micah Lavoric, but you do bring a good point: your political ties, especially those of the Rossi family could serve us great use. Just know that you will be bound to your word or I will see you dead.”

“I understand,” I nodded shakily.

“If you are to help us then you must live the night. We go.”

“Wait,” I said quickly and quietly. She turned to, an eyebrow raised.

“Did you know that Sage and Fartham Rowan yet live?”

She cocked her head slightly; her expression was still stoic, but I could see a hint of surprise affecting the lines of her face, even in the darkness. “We must go.”

Melina pulled the door open, the hinges creaked a bit, possibly betraying our presence even as we tarried in the cover of darkness. She poked her head out for a moment and the motioned to me to follow. I slipped behind her into the darkness of the abandoned street that stood before us, clad only in the pale white light of the moon. As we emerged from the house we entered an entirely different world, one made of silence, one that manifested in the remains of a street that looked as if it hadn’t been used for decades. On either side of the cobblestone street, I could see boarded windows, broken signs, and debris covering the sidewalks. Some ways down, about thirty feet perhaps I could see the remains of an iron wagon that had perhaps once been horse drawn, but now it sat with two bent and broken wheels, the chassis sitting at a perpendicular angle and the skeletal remains of a child crushed beneath the body of the thing. Further on I saw a pile of refuse, rock and assorted pieces of garbage interspersed with wooden crossbeams, rotting and splintered, leaned against the nearest building. This alley was in decrepit shape and I felt a tinge of panic rising in my stomach as I recalled the neat, orderly, and even sleek areas of the palace campus which I had inhabited. It occurred to me that I had kept in a gilded cage and even my limited freedom had only afforded me small glimpses of the city proper. Auglire was falling apart and the people who resided on the outer edges were paying the price with disease and famine.

Melina motioned for me to follow and I did my best to keep up. Where I fell behind, she would simply pull me by the arm, guiding me past piles of debris, fallen beams, and over the occasional skeletal remain. We moves silently through a heavy darkness that extended up a street with no lamplight and no people. Then, she motioned for me to take a sharp left, ducking us into an alley just as a group of four men in long leather trench coats passed with held torches. We hid behind a pile of broken crates, waiting until the men passed, and then I followed Melina further down the alley until we emerged onto another street, this one brimming with life and light. The people were still caked with filth, their clothes were ragged, but there were people, and we melded seamlessly into the moving crowd. In the distance I could hear shouts, and to my left and right I could feel the jostling of the crowd as a group of men ran against the flow, shouting orders and occasional screams. As we walked, Melina passed me a vial of the blue Arctesonite fluid, refined to its edible form. I hesitantly took a drink and immediately felt my senses heighten; the voices of the crowd became more distinct, my reflexes quickened, my eyesight sharpened.

“Aye, if we don’t find her, Old Jaf will be fit to be tied, by and by,” A distant voice said.

“They say Mallory’s moved on the warehouse, or so much his men have,” Another voice, a gruff old sounding man said. “None’s to know where the fool himself is.”

“Tooling around in that absurd airship of his,” The first voice scoffed.

I looked up as Melina tapped my shoulder and motioned at me to follow her through the crowd. In the distance I could hear the telltale authoritative shouts of the city watch; they had made their way south of Maussen and were cutting through the droves of people, toward us. In any other situation it might have been a good idea to turn myself over to the authorities, but from the other direction I could hear something else - the voices of those who were also looking for me; Old Jaf’s people. The two forces were converging and the last thing I wanted was to find myself in a battle between Old Jaf’s hired help and the city watch. With a panic rising within me, I followed Melina onto a side street and then ducked behind her into an alley. We emerged into an open street paved with concrete rather than cobblestone, and as our feet crunched across, I looked upward, taking in the sight of two tube-shaped glass bridges, each one encircled with wrought iron bars and glowing from within with yellow Arctesonite-powered bulbs. The bridges ran from one building to the next, and beyond the tempered glass walls I could see the darkened shapes of people walking in both directions, high above the streets, slick with oil and filth. I was almost too taken in by the scenery to notice a darkened figure stepping out in front of us, bathed in yellow lamplight, his leather cloak slicked and his head partially obscured by a hood, which he duly pulled back to regard us. He was an older man with a scarred countenance, and in his hand, an iron revolver which he leveled at us, giving a look of disgust.

“And this will be the girl then,” He nodded. “Old Jaf’ll be wantin’ to see her.”

“Then he’ll have to see her in the next life,” Melina growled. The man shook his head and raised the pistol, extending his arm to place the barrel just inches away from Melina’s head.

“Meddlin’ you are,” He said gruffly. Just before he could pull the trigger, Melina, lightning fast, swept her forearm across, knocking the revolver to the right; the barrel flared, a crack broke the night as the bullet swooshed past her head and she landed a blow in the man’s abdomen with her free hand. The daggers were out as more men emerged from the alleys; the shot had drawn their attention, and citizens that had been walking the streets with casual abandon began to run in terror.

“Run,” Melina said to me simply with no hint of panic in her voice. Her command was not uttered out of fright; it simply was. It was what we had to do, and so we did. I pushed my already exhausted body to its limit, taking full advantage of the Arctesonite fueled muscles as the streets flew by around me. I could feel them behind us; one man nearly caught up but instead caught Melina’s dagger to his abdomen as she stopped briefly to dispatch him. Three more men appeared in front of us, then two more to the left. I looked from left to right, trying to survey the area to determine an escape route; Melina did the same. It was no good, we were surrounded. A flurry of firearms were leveled at us and I could immediately feel the helplessness of the situation. We had Arctesonite on our side, but I wasn’t exactly an experienced fighter and how many of them had the same advantage? Then, the most unbelievable, yet, predictable event transpired; blue-uniformed members of the city watch began to pour from the alleys, each armed with their steel-wood rifles.

“Oh no,” Melina muttered as the uniformed soldiers leveled their rifles at the crowd surrounding us. The night exploded. I ducked, my hands covering my head in panic as Melina grabbed the nearest mercenary and drove her dagger into his neck, a spray of crimson erupting from what would have once been his throat as she ducked into a crouching position, twirled, and sliced the belly of another man that was making a move for me. The sound of gunfire tore through the darkness as the city watch attempted to dispatch the mercenaries; bullets flew around me, sparks erupting from concrete beneath my feet as I froze in place, terror racking my body.

“Come on!” Melina screamed; though she didn’t need to as my Arctesonite-enhanced ears held her just fine. Her fingers encircled my arm, pulling me to my feet as we ran through the chaos. She dispatched a man in front of her, kicking him in the leg and snapping him at the kneecap as she shoved her blade into the back of another man that was simply passing. Gunfire continued to sound, each individual crack compounding to create a continuous roar that filled my ears and nearly crippled my every step as I tried to find a way through the chaos. Then, as the roar filled the night, something happened: silence. All at once, I could feel the Arcesonite coursing through my body, interacting with it in a way that I hadn’t felt before. No, wait, I had felt it before! The surgery, the one that had made me whole, or at least as close to whole as I was ever going to get. My senses heightened even further and the scene around me froze. I surveyed it with my eyes, barely daring to move a muscle. Melina was in front of me, nearly frozen in place, one foot off the ground, her blade buried into the skull of a man who was now almost comically suspended in air, his arms failing, his eyes dead. A soldier nearby leveled his gun at one of the mercenaries, the barrel in the process of discharging; bullet hanging in the air. I carefully righted myself and walked through the chaos; the frozen mass of men and women, all interlocked and in the process of fighting for their lives; the square packed with combatants.

They weren’t frozen per se, rather they were moving very, very slowly. I could see the bullet moving through the air millimeters at a time; I could see the horrified expression of the mercenary, the realization of death crossing his face as he helplessly and futily tried to move aside. Then, a new sensation, a pounding in my ears. I concentrated, my confusion beginning to subside as I narrowed down the source of the sound to a person nearby. It was a mercenary, dressed in a leather button-down vest and a stained white shirt. He was holding a wooden cane, it was striking the head of a nearby soldier, but more importantly, the air around the man was glowing. Glowing blue. My eyes traveled through the crowd, and I could see them all, at least fifteen men and women, all with the blue Arctesonite glow about them. They had all taken it, they were all enhanced. I could see the blue glow from my hands, the blue around Melina. Sucking in a breath, I turned to the man in of me and concentrated. I somehow, instinctively knew what to do; my mind connected with the Arctesonite aura, the molecules in the air began to vibrate, moving faster and faster, far faster than the man in front of me. I did the same with the others, vibrating the auras; the air around them, the Arctesconite flowing through their veins, deep within their bodily systems. Faster and faster and faster, and then, suddenly, the night roared again; the people began to move at their normal speed. Shots cracked through the night and the man in front of me exploded. He dissolved soundlessly into a cloud of red mist, blood evaporating into the air as the woman fighting next to him, unaffected, froze and stared it, her eyes wide. Another man followed suit, exploding into thin air. Then another, and another, and another.

“Come!” Melina hissed, grabbing my arm and taking advantage of the confusion to duck into an alley and mount a fire escape. We clambered up, away from the street as the fighting continued. Screams continued to break the night, a symphony of shouts and gunfire rising to form a concerto of death and destruction as we moved further and further upward. One stair, then another, then a ladder as we finally mounted the building, overlooking the Maussen district just a few hundred yards off. I immediately took note of the difference between this district and Maussen; this one was decrepit; rust covered and coated in filth. The Maussen district in contrast was a sprawling metropolis of sleek gray and black buildings centered around a huge lit clock affixed to a steeple surrounded by wrought iron spears and stone gargoyles.

“What happened down there?” Melina demanded. “Did you see that?”

“I…” I tried to recall the event but I could feel the last few moments quickly fading from my memory. What had happened down there? We were running, there was a fight, and now we were on top of a building. The Arctesonite rush was beginning to wear thin, my muscles returned to normal, the sounds of the fight below began to fade. “I don’t know. I…I can’t…oh Goddess…I can’t remember anything!”

“Easy there,” Melina said reassuringly; her expression was one of concern, but then it hardened as she remembered who she was looking at. “We’ll sort it out later, Micah Lavoric.”

“What happens now?” I asked, cringing as she used that name again. It wasn’t a good feeling; each time she said it, I felt as if I were being electrocuted. It wasn’t me. I was Lyra, Lyra Rossi. Sheena’s little sister. I had been anyway, at some point. There was a time when I was her treasured sister and I had thrown it away. There was no chance of a return to normal now, was there?

“Well,” Melina shrugged, wiping her daggers against her coat until they shined again, reflecting the moonlight. “You are the sister of Sheena Rossi, and the movement can use those political ties. We must find a way to get you home. If Sheena is truly your sister, then you have reason to be afraid. From what I know of the woman she is…well I’ve heard she is a nightmare to deal with.”

“Home…” I looked at her incredulously. “I didn’t think I…I didn’t believe I would ever go home. I want to see her so…badly…”

Melina studied me, her expression still hard, and I realized that I was crying; tears rolled down my filth-soaked cheeks and I crossed my arms across my chest, hugging myself as sobs began to erupt.

“And you are Micah Lavoric?” She stared. “Were you always such a crybaby?”

“I’m not him,” I said between sobs. “I was never him…well…a little bit at the beginning but…I’m Lyra. I’m…I’m…”

“Is this some sort of act?” She raised an eyebrow. “No matter, we must find a way to-”

Before she could finish her sentence, almost as if on cue, we both turned to our right to behold the bullet-shaped dirigible, rigid framed and carrying the eight-windowed car beneath it. It was close; extremely close, I had no idea how it had snuck up on us, but the building we stood upon was tall enough to give it clearance above all other structures in the area. It hung there in the air, perhaps two hundred feet away, windows glowing with bright white light. I squinted and held a hand to my forehead, trying to see who was driving it. The Valorant, Quinn Mallory’s airship no doubt. Then, my questions were answered as Sheena’s voice rang out through a massive mounted loudspeaker affixed to the side of the ship’s chassis.

“Lyra Rossi! You are in big trouble, young lady!”

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 groaned and pushed myself into an upright position; brown hair fell about my shoulders, matted and tangled, partially adhered to the side of my head. Squinting in the sunlight, I turned and crawled to the edge of the bed - a feat that seemed to take hours as I crawled over heaps and mounds of silk and cotton, finally dropping my feet onto a thinly carpeted floor. As the world came into tangibility around me, so too did my panic as I realized I had no idea where I was. What was the last thing that had happened? I struggled to think. Quinn Mallory, Melina, Old Jaf, all of these things were a jumble and they became even more convoluted as I tried to put them all together. What had happened after the roof? How had I gotten to this room?

“Okay,” I said, trying to calm myself. “Calm down, what do you know? It’s a bedroom, right?”

It was a bedroom but it was bigger than any I’d ever been in. No, wait, that was wrong. When I…no when he was Micah, he’d had a room bigger than this but it had been different, somehow. My eyes traveled the large space, from the picture window overlooking a lush green courtyard, to the large vanity in the corner. A door set into the wall, another one facing the head of the bed. Grunting and suppressing a yawn, I dropped from the edge of the bed and winced as my right ankle painfully took the brunt of the impact. The stupid thing still hadn’t healed. Ignoring the sharp yet brief pain, I began to walk toward what I assumed as the bedroom door. They were tall and made from a light green, set into an ornate frame that rose at least three feet from the top of my head. My open palms slammed against the surface, barely even budging the double doors in their frame. I reached to the handle and jiggled it, determined to push my way out, but as with the door itself, the handle barely moved. The panic continued to rise, starting as an unpleasant churning of my stomach and morphing into a rising pressure that threated to burst my chest from the inside as bashed my open palm against solid wood while using the other hand to violently shake the handle.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice immediately becoming frantic. My breathing increased, my heart began to pound. I pounded again, harder this time. “Is anyone there? Hello?”

Receiving no answer, I stepped back from the door and began to look about frantically. I ran to the second door opposite the bed and flung it open. Inside, a huge open space filled with dresses and shoes. I turned and ran to the picture window but found no way to open it. Then, I saw the chair placed just in front of the vanity. Of course. Grabbing it, I stood in front of the window and hoisted it over my head. Whoever had taken me, they weren’t going to keep me. I closed my eyes and tightened my grip, sinking my fingers into the legs of the chair and tensed my muscles. It was pretty high up but if I could break the glass, I could definitely survive the jump. Probably.

“Lyra!” A voice from behind caused me to spin, the chair falling from my hands and thudding against the floor. The woman in the doorway was the spitting image of Sheena, if Sheena were perhaps ten years older. She had black hair, thick and straight, hanging well past her shoulders. Her dress was a deep bronze with a black overdress, both hanging nearly to the floor. The sleeves were long and puffed at the arm, culminating at her wrists in a lace cuff that encircled her palms. Everything about this woman screamed royalty and I found myself frozen, nearly trembling in her presence.

“Wh…who are you?” I asked, feeling suddenly small as I took an unsteady step backward, my back pressing against the glass as she raised an eyebrow and took a step toward me.

“Lyra,” She said in a soft, but stern tone. “You will recall the day you visited the Rossi household. My name is Desa Rossi, Daughter to Martin and Colleen, sister to Sheena, do you remember?”

I shook my head violently as I tried to recall, gripping the fabric of my cotton night gown and biting my lower lip.

“Do you not remember being brought here? Well, you were exhausted, so that makes sense, I suppose. Nonetheless you are here now, so let’s get you away from the window in your night clothes, shall we?”

I gulped and realize that she, whoever she was, was right. I was standing there in my gown for all the world to see. My face reddened as I allowed the woman, Desa to guide me back toward the center of the room.

“Goodness,” she said, shaking her head as she pulled her hand away from the small of my back. “You worked up a sweat last night, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean-”

“You aren’t held to apologize for bodily functions,” She lectured me. “just held to clean up after them, which we will do shortly.”

“I- I want to see Sheena,” I said meekly, trying to assert some sort of dominance in a situation where I was clearly at the disadvantage; I failed, immediately blushing and shrinking back as I expected Desa to become angry. Instead she regarded me with a soft expression and gave me a smile.

“I assure you, Lyra, that is the last thing you want right now. Sheena is rather cross with you and I can’t say as I blame her,” She suppressed a chuckle and then shook her head. “She traipsed across half of Auglire to retrieve you and did some damage as well.”

“Is…is she okay?” I whispered my question, not sure I wanted an answer. It was all coming back to me, the rooftop, the airship, the mystery man in black. What was his name? I wondered if it could have been Quinn; he hadn’t taken his mask off for the ride, he’d just dropped us at what he called the ‘Tertiary Spire’ and left us to our own devices.

“Worse for wear, I do fear,” Desa told me, but then squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “But well enough for the High Lady to have given her a piece. She’s been removed from her position at the palace.”

“What? No!” I said suddenly, shaking my head. “Because of me?!”

“Because of you,” Desa chuckled. “Don’t fret so. She isn’t without resources and Lyra, my dear, you may be adopted under strange circumstances, but given the last twenty-four hours, I’d say you’ve some Rossi blood in you after all.”

“Thank…you?” I said nervously. She chuckled aloud this time and motioned toward the door. I followed her guidance, my feet padding softly as we walked toward the open doorway toward a wide hall. We were about the same size, probably, but I felt incredibly small beside her, and if it was possible, she was far more intimidating than Sheena had been, even if her tone wasn’t nearly as harsh.

“My dear Lyra,” She told me as we walked. “mother has relocated us to the Maussen house, one of the Rossi’s estates. Mostly it was to spite father for his rejection of you, but he’s come around.”

“He has?” I asked, suddenly hopeful. Desa stopped outside a doorway toward the mid-point of the hallway.

“He’ll speak with you later; he’s come back for the day.”

“I…okay,” I said, trying to sound assertive but failing.

“Is she ready then?” A familiar voice caused me to spin about; Jen stood there, watching me expectantly. I gawked, barely noticing that she wasn’t wearing her service uniform. It was a work dress, undoubtedly, but it was a shade of light green with a white sash tied about the waist and a skirt that ended just below the knees.

“Lyra, I am to understand that you are familiar with Jenise?” Desa asked me. I nodded quietly in response to her question. “Good. The Rossi household does not typically employ servants, but we made an exception in this case. Sheena insisted that there be someone familiar to guide you in our absence, and we agreed. You have it from here, Jenise?”

“Yes Lady,” Jen said, smiling to me.

“Dispense with that,” Desa waved her hand dismissively. “My name is Desa. Learn it well.”

“Yes…Desa…” Jen said with uncertainty.

“Allow me to educate you,” Desa said. “There are many ways to answer in the affirmative without lowering yourself to another person. You can say ‘yes’ or ‘aye’ or ‘it will be done’. Any of these are acceptable.”

“Right, okay,” Jenise sounded far more nervous than I had been. Then, Desa looked to me with a stern expression.

“You will refer to me as Elder Sister,” She told me. “Sheena has surely educated you in the protocol?”

“Yes…Elder Sister,” I said as I tried to slip back into what was a familiar routine.

“Good,” Desa nodded and smiled, then left Jen and I standing alone in the corridor.

“I hate that she uses my full name,” Jen rolled her eyes. “Sheena does that too. Come, Little Lyra, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I followed her through the door, my hands clasped together in front of me, and becoming incredibly aware of my horrible disheveled state as we passed in front of a three-paneled mirror inside a huge washroom. The walls and floor were covered with black tile and white grout with evenly space spotlights set into the ceiling to give the room a slightly brighter ambiance. Near the top of the wall, several brass pipes ran along the length, each one ultimately attached to a fixture; a brass basin for washing, a latrine for…well, you know. At the corner of the room there was a bathing tub, cast from iron and large as any I had ever seen. Truthfully, it was probably large enough to fit five people comfortably. The tub was filled nearly to the brim with water and steam played at the surface, indicating that was more than a bit warm.

“Be off with that gown,” Jen gestured to me almost dismissively as she tested the temperature of the tub. “And don’t be bashful about it, I’ve seen what you’ve got under there.”

I didn’t waste time arguing, I simply pulled the garment off and balled it up, holding in front of me as I wondered what twist of fate had brought me to…wherever this was, and how Jen had ended up here with me. Jen finished testing the water and then turned to me, her eyes suddenly wide.

“Goodness!” She said. “I believe I just lied; I saw what you looked like before, never paid attention after your…procedure.”

I turned red and hugged the gown to me, tempted to throw it back on.

“Don’t fret,” She laughed. “You look good, no foolin’ about there. How does it feel?”

I shrugged and tightened my grip on the garment, which she, in response, snatched out of my hand and tossed to the ground. I cringed as I stood there naked; she motioned toward the tub and I moved over, lowering myself into the warm water.

“It was strange at first,” I admitted almost apprehensively; talking about my body was never one of my favorite things. “It took a few days to….find my balance.”

“Certainly so,” Jen agreed. “That chest is certainly a sight to behold.”

“Uh…thanks?” I blushed, my body temperature rising a few degrees as Jen giggled and gestured to the side of the tub.

“Now, Little Lyra, start by taking that bottle, the yellow one, and putting a drop in the water. At the palace, the nobility and aristocrats, they had people to bathe them, but the Rossie family does things…differently. Can’t say I like it myself.”

“You don’t?” I frowned. “Does it not mean less work?”

“Lyra,” She lectured. “I joined service to do work. Can you imagine being ladies maid to one who would just as soon be a ladies maid herself?”

“I guess I don’t…understand,” I shrugged. I took the yellow bottle and did as she instructed. As I did, the water took on a sweet aroma that filled my nostrils and immediately put me at ease.

“Aye,” She said. “Which reminds me. I was apprised of your situation.”

“My situation?” I asked nervously, wondering exactly what she was referring to.

“Until a few days past,” She said. “I was disposed to think of you as a reformed Micah Lavoric. Seems I’ve been right mistaken about that. I’m surprised as anyone would be but it’s a relief to my mind. You’re a different person entirely and I dare say I’m glad to be properly introduced.”

“I…” I sat there at a loss for words as she leaned against the side of the tub; steam rose to envelop her.

“Take that bottle there, and that wash cloth. Scrub yourself.”

“And you truly believe it?” I asked as I followed her instructions. “Why do people so readily believe that…that I’m not him. It just seems so…”

“Goodness, little Lyra,” Jen stepped back and stretched, cracking her back as she tilted her body from left to right. “A magical wall of rain, cloud, and fire tore across Faidrye, and you are the thing that seems far fetched? Not the Mah’Kur, not the…what did they call that thing? The Mockreet? A magical city called Hybra? Come now, little Lyra, the Rossis debriefed me, and they have no reason to fabricate such a thing. Finish scrubbing, we’ll see to your hair next!”

The bath concluded with her guiding me through a hair care routine that was far more complicated than anything I’d had to do at the palace even on the worst of days and the routine in itself made me exhausted. Jen took me back to the bedroom, practically dragging me naked through the hall and pulled a dress from the wardrobe. It was simple; a light blue, much like the dress Melina had given me, but instead of rough fabric, it was a light satin that cinched the waist tightly. The neckline was a deep scoop and the fabric hung tightly to my chest, overtop a light corset that she’d laced into place moments before.

“It’s a simple gown,” Jen said as she stepped back and appraised me. “But they said to go simple for today, after your ordeal.”

How she defined ‘simple’ was open to interpretation as she sat me at the vanity and applied cosmetics to my face. The process took at least half an hour with her patting my face periodically to make sure that I hadn’t dozed off. Finally, she stood behind me with a brush and ran it through my hair, applying oils as she went, humming and watching my face in the mirror. She stopped humming mid stroke and rested a hand on my shoulder.

“You know the words, yes?”

“The words?” I asked, confused. She began humming again and stopped.

“Come now Lyra, let’s see how good that memory of yours is.”

“It’s not that great,” I laughed. “I remember everything from…when I walked into the Lady’s office and asked to be Lyra. Everything before that…well, it’s dark. I remember things but…it’s like reading from a book. I remember the words, not the images.”

She began humming again as she stroked my hair gently and then switched to a soft-bristled brush. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sound of her voice. Finally, I sang, softly:

“Howling dogs, endless fog and madness on the keel
Cast adrift, into the rift and no hand on the wheel
Hallowes Eve when souls conceive and whisper on the wind
Onwards to the darkness where the ancient curse begins”

“Very good, little Lyra,” She smiled. “Some things are natural, after all.”

“I guess it’s a popular song,” I shrugged.

“Which is why you ought know it. Come, we’re done here.”

As I stood, she allowed me to take a look in the mirror and I barely recognized the girl looking back at me. She’d done my face before, back at the palace in the servant’s quarters but it had never been this elaborate. My long brown hair hung neatly about my shoulders, framing a perfectly painted face. Paired with the dress, simple as it was, I looked positively regal. My heart began to pound as my face broke into a stupid grin and I clasped my hands together, letting out a girlish giggle. Finally, she guided me away from the mirror and into the hallway where I walked with slightly more confidence than before.

“I know they like to do their own chores,” Jen said “But I’ll be taking care of your bed later. It positively stinks.”

“Sorry,” I offered, thoroughly embarrassed.

“You ought be,” She snorted. “Learn to sleep without soaking yourself in sweat.”

We walked silently down the hall, shortly emerging onto a wide landing that led down a set of stairs that led to the front foyer. I quickly noticed that the marble floor had accumulated some dust, and much of the space was darkened; the chandelier that hung in the center of the room was only partially lit.

“Why is it so dark?” I asked.

“They can’t be bothered,” Jen shrugged. “They’ve the money to keep the space cleaned and lit, but they’re so busy outside of the house and they have no servants, save for me, now. I’ll see this place right if it’s the last I do.”

We turned right at the bottom of the steps and crossed through another door, and a turn later, we emerged into a large drawing room complete with several couches and chairs arranged in a circle so as to face one another. To the right, a grand piano, lid sitting closed, and a stone hearth set into the wall behind it. Most importantly, all of the Rossis were there, including Sheena. I nearly gasped when I saw her; the left side of her face was bruised black and blue and she was dressed similarly to me; a very basic silk chemise and over dress, though I imagined it had been done out of concern for her pain.

“Look who finally decided to join us,” Colleen shot me an amused glance as Sheena looked at me with an expression of near disgust. I cringed a little, but she remained silent as I sat on the couch beside her. I folded my hands and sat rigid as Jen excused herself to the kitchen. Colleen glanced after her. “Don’t even think of cooking lunch, we handle that ourselves!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jen rolled her eyes and disappeared.

“Lyra, thank you for joining us,” Martin said. He sat at the head of the formation alongside Colleen. Desa and Elizabeth sat in their own seats across from us. “Family meetings are important, though this isn’t nearly as urgent as yesterday’s.”

“Yes, Lyra,” Elizabeth smirked. “Where were for that one, then?”

“Uh,” I tried to speak but my voice caught in my throat. Desa laughed; Sheena glared at me.

“Lighten up, Sheena,” Desa grinned. “Wasn’t entirely her fault.”

“I dare say not,” Martin agreed. “Which brings us to our first point. Lyra, regardless of lineage, you bear the Rossi name and we have been neglectful-”

“To say the least,” Colleen agreed, garnering a look of disdain from Martin.

“In any case. Lyra, you will remain in the company of a family member when you are outside of the house. This is not…a punishment, it is a precaution.”

“That brings us to my point,” Colleen interrupted again. “Sheena. You are a woman grown, free to do as you wish, obviously, you can do whatever you wish, but I would appreciate it, and the Rossi household would appreciate it if you didn’t destroy entire districts. The High Lady is furious.”

“As she so graciously imparted upon me earlier,” Sheena said stiffly.

“With no obligation to service,” Colleen said. “You will resume your studies and take up a career, it’s time you chose one.”

“I thought I was ‘a woman grown’,” Sheena looked to Colleen with an expression of pure disdain, prompting Colleen to regard her with a serious expression.

“A woman grown, and a Rossi,” Colleen said. “Lyra, you will begin your studies. You’ll be taking a series of tests to determine where you should start. Furthermore, you will speak to a counselor regarding your situation and to work out any residual feelings you may have-”

“You mean a shrink?” I suddenly interrupted. The Rossis looked to me, then at eachother. Desa furrowed her eyebrows while Sheena shook her head and raised a hand to her face.

“She does that,” Sheena explained. “I have yet to learn what ‘flipped my shit’ means in any context.”

“Sheena!” Colleen said sharply “We do not use such language! It has no place in polite society!”

“Which explains why I’m the only person in Auglire whose never heard the word,” Sheena rolled her eyes.

“Have you never read a book?” Elizabeth asked her; if she was joking it didn’t show. Sheena balled her fist and I began to scoot away, toward the edge of the couch. Before I could get very far, Sheena gripped my arm and pulled me back.

“Finally,” Martin said, the sigh evident in his voice. “The situation in Oniodale requires my attention and I won’t be able to attend the ballare. I do understand Lord Radon will be present, for what it’s worth.”

“Having Lyra provides a bit of an advantage,” Desa offered.

“What are little sisters good for otherwise?” Sheena muttered. I blushed.

The Rossis continued to discuss internal and external politics which made little to no sense to me which caused me to feel like a third wheel. Finally, Martin concluded the meeting and the room emptied, save for myself, Sheena, and Desa.

“How are you feeling, Sheena?” Desa asked. Sheena sucked in a breath and bit her bottom lip before responding.

“Face hurts,” She said, casting a wayward glance at me. “Lyra, what is wrong with you?”

“Oh come now,” Desa said sharply. “You mean to blame the girl for your shortcomings? Where were you when she was traipsing about Auglire?”

“I was distracted!” Sheena said through gritted teeth. I paled and began to shrink away again, hoping to bolt from the couch and perhaps make it back upstairs where I could hide under the bed. Sheena instantly snatched me by the arm and dragged me back into place, despite a yelp of protest escaping my throat. “Lyra you could have been killed! You could have been sold to some work house, you could have been shipped outside the city and we never would have found you! Do you understand how much danger you were in?”

“While Sheena speaks in anger, her words do have merit,” Desa affirmed. “The danger was real and it is not something we can afford. Sheena, in any case, we’ll teach the girl to defend herself, yes?”

“It’s a given,” Sheena nodded, seeming slightly less angry. “All Rossis can fight. Father mandates it.”

“Today’s schedule, however, does not permit it,” Desa mused. “Lyra, I know that you are tired, but you’ll need to take a few of your tests today so that your education can begin. After that, we’ll have you rest for the remainder of the day.”

“I would speak to her first,” Martin said. I turned to look and saw him leaning at the entrance to the drawing room. “Come, Lyra.”

“Father-” Desa protested, but he waved a hand to cut her off.

“You can have her back in a few moments,” He said. “Lyra, with me.”

Sheena shrugged and gestured toward Martin. I paled and climbed nervously to my feet. I began to walk, but she stopped me and smoothed the folds of my skirt, sighing as she did so. After she finished, I followed Martin down a brief hallway and into a study lined with books on each wall and a huge desk at the center beneath a window that overlooked the courtyard that had been visible from my room. He motioned for me to take a seat while he stepped to a small table and lifted a crystal decanter filled with a brown liquid. Filling a square tumbler, he held it to his nose and nodded approval as he finally looked to me and then stepped around the desk and took a seat in the high-backed leather chair.

“You’re too young, I’m afraid,” He gestured to the tumbler. “Lyra, I’m going to be blunt, I don’t consider you family, let alone a daughter. I believe that you’re not Micah Lavoric, that has become more than clear, but regardless of who you are, you’re not a Rossi.”

“That much is fucking clear,” I muttered under my breath, then turned beet red as I realized I’d spoken those words aloud. Martin raised an eyebrow.

“Well then say what you mean, Lyra,” He sat back, folding his hands and looking to me with curiosity.

“I…” I stammered and considered remaining silent, but a single look at him told me that he wasn’t about to let it go. “Mr. Rossi, I’m not anyone. I’m not a Lavoric, I’m not…a Rossi. Sheena hates me, you won’t have me, the High Lady dismissed me from her service. If you expect your words to hurt then I’m sorry, but I’ve been unwanted since I arrived. What are you trying to do? Make me cry? I’m all cried out over this. If you don’t want me, get rid of me like you did last time.”

“I don’t want you, because the Rossi name is not a novelty to be given away,” Martin said. “We don’t adopt outsiders, we never have. Sheena didn’t have the authority to do it, but she did it anyway. Giving you our name didn’t make it legally binding, but just bearing that name has weight in Auglire and Faedrye. So, I can’t have you walking around with it, free to do as you please.”

“So I’ll change it,” I shrugged. “Are we done here?”

“People know the name ‘Lyra Rossi’,” He stared hard at me. “If you do that, then I’ve disowned a daughter and the Rossi family cannot afford a scandal. So.”

I shifted in the chair as he reached into the desk drawer and removed a sheet of folded parchment, which he subsequently opened and held up for me. It looked like a certificate of some sort, written in fancy calligraphy which a green seal stamped in wax near the bottom, two signatures on a line just below it.

“Colleen and I have declared it, formally. Lyra Rossi is a legitimate daughter of the Rossi household. Make no mistake, Lyra, we have standards and you will be held to them. I do not think you a daughter, but by law you are considered one. So, that’s that.”

I held the certificate numbly in my hands, staring at the elegant Klocby script, the seal, Martin and Colleen’s signatures etched at the bottom. It suddenly dawned on me just how alone I’d felt until this moment; the words I’d spoken to Martin were true - no one had wanted me, or so it seemed. Sheena had stuck with me, and she had literally fought for me, but in the end I had been adrift, lost, meaningless. Now, suddenly, I was home.

“Father,” Sheena said from the door. “Might I borrow Lyra?”

“I think we’re done here,” Martin nodded, taking the parchment from my hands and placing it in the drawer. Sheena drew me up from the chair and walked me through the hallway and through a back door. We stood in the courtyard, and I took in the scenery which, up close, was a bit disappointing. From my window above I hadn’t noticed its dilapidated state. The fountain at the center was overgrown with moss, the grass was unkempt, and several of the ceramic sculptures had been knocked over or overgrown with vines.

“I learned well the use of servants,” Sheena followed my gaze to the courtyard. “Father despises the practice but at least in Klocby they serve enthusiastically and receive payment.”

“I didn’t mind it,” I said, unable to think of anything else to say. She placed a gentle hand to my cheek and turned my head toward her. I looked into her eyes, cringing a bit at the state of her face. She smirked a little.

“Nasty, is it not?” She asked. I clenched my jaw, not wanting to respond in the affirmative. “Banged my head on a fire escape. You’re a lot of trouble, Lyra Rossi, you know that?”

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“Between family members,” She said. “Love does not have to be a factor. We exist together for a common goal. It is commonplace for sister to hate sister, husband to hate wife. We are allowed to exist within the same household and dislike eachother. You understand, yes?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling empty again as I realized that maybe, just maybe I had crossed the line. I had caused trouble for Sheena and for the Rossis, and there was likely no way back. I finally belonged somewhere but at the same time, I didn’t belong. The sinking feeling began to overtake me, and I felt my knees beginning to grow weak.

“But, Lyra, understand this. If I disliked you so, and if I did not love you, I would have left you to your fate. You would have disappeared quietly and we would have worried no more. But, that is not what happened is it?”

I shook my head and watched as her hard expression turned into a soft smile.

“I went to the ends of Auglire for you, to get you back, because you are not only my sister, you are someone that I love. Do you understand?”

“I’m trying,” I whispered finally, my voice nearly caught in my throat as I truly tried to understand what she was saying.

“I can be angry with you, furious even, but no matter what, I will always come to your aid when you need it, even if you’ve been abducted by criminals through your own foolish actions. Come, Lyra.”

Before I could object, she gathered me in a hug, her arms wrapped around my waist, drawing my body to hers. I instinctively rested my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes, relishing the warmth of her embrace and the feeling of connection.

“You are my family, Lyra,” Sheena said softly.

“And mine as well,” Desa said, stepping outside to join us. Sheena pulled away slowly, reaching a hand to straighten her hair. Desa took my hands in hers and smiled. “And let me just say, it’s wonderful to truly meet you, after all this time.”

“Agreed,” Elizabeth added, stepping from the house. “We have been neglectful, and that neglect nearly led to unimaginable tragedy. We have some time now, let us get to know our youngest sister.”

“That,” Sheena said. “Is long overdue.”