The Heartwood Chronicles

In silence, Naia watched Chaos roll off the distant mountainside. It didn’t pour and spread like a fog, but remained bunched. It swooped noiselessly over the forest and disappeared behind tree tops. Naia was glad it didn’t come near Argenta’s cabin. Even from afar it made her shiver.

Still Naia kept vigil, her eyes straining as gloom fell across the sky in folds. The quiet stretched. Glimmers awakened inside the walls and floors of the cabin and porch. They cast a soft silver light over the two of them. Argenta’s hands and knitting rested in her lap; she leaned forward a little, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the forest.

A distant shriek shattered the silence. Naia started. A nervous jolt ran through her body. Her heart pounded. In the distance, a dark shape, sinuous and winged, erupted from the canopy. It screamed again and darted towards the mountains.

“What was that?” Naia gasped.

Argenta took up her knitting again. “Some fool who thinks to master Chaos. She will pay for it, of course.” Her mouth set into a stern line.

Naia looked at her uncertainly. “Was that…a dragon?” She felt ludicrous saying the word out loud. Dragons belonged in fairy tales.

“No, child,” said Argenta gently. “Dragons are long gone, and you should be thankful for it. That was a creature shaped by Chaos. For a little while, she will be quick and powerful, but she will not survive long.”

Naia recalled the deformed corpse she and Amber had seen on the road, the talk of labs and serums. “Are people trying to manipulate Chaos?” Her eyes rounded. Chaos had kept humans from colonizing the mainland for centuries. Eventually, it had retreated enough for people to settle the eastern coast, but the vast, mysterious interior was entirely covered with the stuff. No one could survive the potent magic that existed there. That had been the realm of dragons.

“Of course,” said Argenta dryly. “That’s what people always do—for good or ill.” She cast off her stitches, then cocked her head. “Here come the others.”

An eerie howl rose from the forest. There was grief in it, and anger, and a kind of blind madness. A deeper cry followed it, this one shorter, not wavering on and on.

Naia blinked. She couldn’t be sure, but the second cry sounded like “Hooya.”

“Villages lie unprotected in the path of the Chaos-shaped,” said Argenta. “You must stop their rampage.”

Naia blinked again. “Me?” she squeaked. Argenta’s blue gaze slid to her face, and Naia added, “Uh, me, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

Naia was speechless. How to tell the other woman—creature—whatever she was—that she had grossly overestimated Naia’s abilities?

Argenta’s mouth crooked with humor. “You will not go unaided, child.” She shook out her knitting. Something rectangular and almost-transparent billowed out, the fibers flowing in endless patterns, knots and whirls and loops that made Naia almost dizzy to look at them. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the fabric. It was cool and slightly wet against her palm. The kinetic energy of millions of raindrops ran across her skin.

Without thinking, Naia grasped the whole thing and slung it across her shoulders like a shawl. The prickle of rain at the edge of her hearing grew to a swift, furious pelting. The tamed power of a thunderstorm thrummed through the fabric. Yet, the shawl itself felt soft and light, halfway between mist and drizzle. It kissed the skin at the back of her neck, brushed across her hands and wrists.

Argenta gave a nod of approval. She sat up straight in her chair, a tiny white-haired woman with a soft white complexion. But her eyes had shaded from vibrant blue to slate-grey, like the surface of a lake churning before a thunderstorm. Almost, Naia could see the white foam flecking her irises.

Argenta raised her hand, the gesture imperious. “Now, go.”

***

Naia moved swiftly through the forest. Moonlight silvered trees and leaves. The sky above held light blue tints. It was amazing how well she could see.

Or perhaps it was the shawl’s doing. Naia herself wasn’t any more surefooted than normal, it was more like she could glide over root and stone and hollow without harm or stumbling. If the trees were thick in front of her, well, she could always find a gap to pour into.

It had to be Argenta’s magic overlaying her body, giving Naia the grace and assurance she had always lacked. This power was only borrowed, but Naia intended to savor every drop of it.

Crashing sounds came from up ahead. Branches snapped. The ground shuddered.

They weren’t being careful, but they had no need of it. Naia’s nose itched with an alien scent, pepper and metal and electricity.

Was this the smell of Chaos?

She glided into a clearing and came face to face with the first of the Chaos-shaped.

Her heart slammed into her ribs. Thoughts of flowing, power, strength ran away, draining out of her muscles.

The creature before her was man-shaped, at least, but there the resemblance ended. For one thing, he was big, fully eight to nine feet in height, and covered with dark fur. The bulk underneath the fur looked alarmingly muscled, his limbs like tree trunks.

A musty, wet-dog smell emanated from him.

He glowered at Naia from small reddish eyes. His mouth opened, revealing large, blunt teeth. Naia bet they were yellowed and disgusting.

He said, “Hooya!”

Naia reared back. “Seriously?” she said. “That really was the sound I heard?” She glared at the creature and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not very intimidating, you know. Surely you can do better.”

The creature made a sheepish movement, hunching his shoulders and tucking in his chin. “Hooya?” he queried, in quieter, more abashed tones.

“I suppose you’re pleased with yourself,” said Naia severely, “playing around with Chaos like that. Just look at the mess you’re in now. You have leaves in your hair, and that fur is going to be a nightmare is keep clean and untangled. It’ll be matted before night’s end, mark my words.”

The creature made a very small sound. “Hooya.”

Naia’s optimism began to reassert itself. Poor Hooya had made a poor choice, and he seemed to be sorry about it. Maybe she wouldn’t have to fight him. Maybe she could just bring him to Argenta and let her turn him back to human.

“Now, let’s not have any of this village-destroying nonsense,” she went on briskly. “You should come along with me. I know someone who can fix you up.” She hoped. “Of course, you’ll have to promise to be good from now on out. What do you say?”

She stretched out her hand.

Hooya’s head swung from side to side. “Hooya,” he said sadly.

Naia didn’t like his tone. It sounded entirely too much like, “I don’t like what I’m doing right now, but I have my orders and I’m in too deep to stop.”

She retracted her arm and gripped the shawl. Its protection spell came easily into her hand and control. She nudged it, and the shawl lengthened and molded itself to her body. The rushing power of water protected her, misty against her skin, fierce and roaring on the other side. When she waved her spell-gloved hand in front of her chest, she felt its kinetic rush, a brutal thing that would hurt any punch or kick that landed upon it.

With Argenta’s power she could take on the brute. “Bring it on,” she said, dropping into a fighting stance.

Hooya bunched his hands into meaty fists. Naia tensed, waiting for the attack.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Hooya planted his feet wide, flexed his arms, and grunted.

Lightning crackled around him. His fur stood up. His eyes glowed.

Oh no. Alarm flared through Naia. It’s the lightning guy. Her stomach churned. Memories flashed through her: Lisette standing tall, an arm stretched up; the dazzle and crackle of slamming electricity; Lisette falling to her knees; the scorched scent after.

She had only an eye-blink of time to ready herself. Hooya held up a fistful of lightning.

His fingers opened.

Water, Argenta whispered in her ear, will fall or flow, no matter what. You can guide it, direct it.

Create a channel.

Lightning hit water, and water swept all the charge, all the angry destructive energy of it, across Naia’s shoulders. The current flowed down her right arm and gathered at her hand.

She flung it out and the lightning bolt, magnified by Argenta’s power, arrowed straight into Hooya’s chest.

She caught the look of surprise on his face as it hit. The impact sent him flying backwards. He landed with a thud, a bounce, then lay still.

Naia didn’t need to go over to check on him. The scent of burning flesh and the impact crater in his chest told her everything. Even if it hadn’t, the black bubble of Chaos eating away at Hooya would’ve clued her in.

Her lips peeled back from her teeth. Bile scoured up her throat. It left a sick taste in her mouth. But she had no time to recover, because another dark shape bounded out of the forest. Snarling, it launched itself at her. Naia threw up her forearm to protect her face, and salivating jaws closed around her wrist. She caught a far too up-close view of mad yellow eyes, bloodstained muzzle, and canine teeth.

The wolf-thing yelped and darted backwards. The great grey head swung back and forth, lips wrinkled, long black tongue wiping its teeth.

“Didn’t fancy having your teeth knocked out by the force of a hundred waterfalls, did you?” said Naia, facing the Chaos-formed creature squarely.

A low whine emitted from his throat. The wolf-thing stood on two legs, short skinny arms hanging down at his side. Patches of leather and fur covered his hide, a bushy tail swiped behind him. Incongruously, silver ringed his throat like a collar.

“A walking wolf?” said Naia. “Now that is really disturbing.”

A growl rumbled in the creature’s chest. His ears went forward. Snapping sounds came from around him. Spikes rocketed through the air and hit Naia. Most of them deflected off the rain armor, but one clipped her cheek, drawing a stinging cut.

The mutter of the rain-spell had died to a soft hiss. It wouldn’t protect her much longer.

She half-turned and sent a wave of water behind her, knocking the silver bullets out of the air as they pelted towards her back. The water arced in a circle around her, clearing space, before wrapping whisperingly around her body.

Wolf raised his muzzle in a howl. His hide rippled, his fur bristled.

“Now what?” asked Naia, exasperated.

Silver burst in spikes from inside him, making him look like a porcupine. Myriad needles, sharp and silver, stained with blood and Chaos, stuck out all over him. He made a grunting sort of whine, half agony, half defiance.

The message was clear. He was going to take her down, no matter what the cost.

Looking at his eyes, Naia thought he was beyond all rational calculation.

He charged.

Her body tensed, ready to brace.

No. That was the wrong move. Water parted. It flowed.

You couldn’t hit rain, could you? Naia relaxed her muscles, loosened her grip, opened her suns.

Argenta’s spell soaked into her. Like thirsty soil, her suns gulped it up.

A sudden lightness came over Naia. She felt buoyant, like she could shoot up in the sky, in a way that air magic had never been for her. With this, I can…

Wolf hit.

… be rain.

Naia scattered.

***

In the delicate dawn of the next morning, all pale gold and blush tints, the woman calling herself Argenta turned around in her chair.

The girl Amber stood in the doorway of the cabin, one hand on the jamb, leaning heavily for support. Her color looked better, though the bruises still stood out against her fair skin. Her eyes were clear and focused and narrowed in suspicion.

A skeptical one, thought Argenta, without surprise or disapproval. Well, soon she will see for herself.

“I know you,” said Amber abruptly. Her voice was still hoarse. “At least, I think I do.” Her gaze turned inwards, as her mind searched for something that was buried deep inside her, hidden from her grasp.

She wasn’t ready yet.

“You do,” said Argenta tranquilly. “But now is not the time for you to know it.”

Amber’s grip on the jamb tightened. “Where’s Naia?”

Argenta transferred her gaze back to the forest. “I’m bringing her back right now.”

A mist, no, a low cloud, drifted out from among the trees and hovered above the ground. Argenta raised her hand and made a twisting motion. “It’s time to return, child.”

The mist coalesced, shivered, withdrew.

And in its place, crouching on a damp patch of grass, was Naia. Her clothes were damp, her face pale, her eyes the color of rain.

Amber ran to her, bare feet thumping across the porch and down the steps. She bent over the Kaidan girl. Naia grabbed her sleeve, tugged her closer. “Amber,” she whispered, “I danced.” And then she began to laugh, long and loud and joyful.

Amber glared at Argenta. “What did you do to her?”

“Showed her the possibilities.” Argenta stood up, a small silver-haired woman with a graceful, erect carriage. “I think, my dear,” she said to Naia, “you will find things easier from now out. It will be a while, though—if ever—before you will be rain again.”

Naia sobered, dark color returning to her irises. Understanding flashed between the two of them. Amber looked on, biting her lip.

Argenta tilted her head in Amber’s direction. “Give my greetings to Viridius, when you see him. Farewell, children.”

The name tickled something in Amber’s memory. She began, “Who is–?” But Naia tugged at her cloak and demanded, “Help me up, Amber, so I can say goodbye properly. My legs are all wobbly.” In her exhilarated state, she was more likely to pull Amber down, and it took a few moments and a sharp comment or two before both girls were on their feet.

They turned to the cabin. Amber drew in a sharp breath.

Argenta no longer stood on the porch. And the porch itself and the cabin behind it were quietly dissolving to mist.

Author’s Note: Ooh, mysteries. What is Amber not ready to know? Who is Viridius? I’ve been wanting to tease these for a while. Along with the Red Dawn from last time, they’re part of the overarching plot of the Heartwood Chronicles. Also, writing magical fights is a stretching experience for me. Luckily I have lots of anime-watching to draw on, ha ha. 

If you’re enjoying this arc so far and want to support this serialization, you can donate here:

Chaos looked like a cloud, but it moved like a tiger. Scarcely had the shout gone up than it bunched like a sleek predator and sprang across the treetops. Hovering above the village, Lisette thought it had taken on the shape of an enormous cloud cat, green fire in its eyes, grey shadows rippling across its grey hide.

Though it was far deadlier than any cloud cat.

Lisette drained the magic from her wings and dropped to the ground, a safe distance away from the enemy combatants, the meeting hall behind her. From this vantage point, the Chaos boiling towards them through the treetops looked even more menacing.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Come on!” she shouted to the mages. “We’ll give you shelter!”

That was the rule: You always gave anyone shelter from Chaos.

For your own sake, as well as theirs.

Acidia was half-turned towards the Chaos, staring up at it. A throaty laugh bubbled out of her. “Now it comes. Better late than never, I suppose!” She flung her arms out as if to embrace it.

Ominous crackles came from the forest. Lisette felt things shift, change, as Chaos engulfed trees, plants, animals.

“Don’t be an idiot!” Lisette yelled. “You need to get to safety! You have no idea what it could do to you.”

“Don’t I?” Acidia called back. “I’ve spent years studying Chaos. Now that it’s here, I’m finally ready for it.”

Yellow Mask folded his arms and stood still, stoic waiting in every line of him. Wolf Mask bounced on his toes. The eyeholes of his mask flickered as his gaze darted from the Acidia to the leading edge of Chaos coming over the last line of trees.

“Uh, I don’t know, Acidia,” he began, backing away towards Lisette. “Maybe we’d better…”

Sticky tentacles shot out from the woman, wrapped around his waist, legs, arms. Her mouth curved up in a hard smile. “You’ll stay.”

In one savage movement, Chaos pounced upon the three mages. Lisette didn’t wait any longer. She sprinted for the open door of the meeting hall, her wings chiming behind her. Jonquil waited in the doorway, her face white and strained. She reached out her hand and caught Lisette’s as she ran up the steps.

At the top, Lisette whirled around. The cloud of Chaos engulfed the mages. She could barely make out their forms in the clinging greyness, dark forms writhing in the wild magic.

Shrieks of agony rang out, torn from twisted throats. Enfolded by Chaos, the mages shuddered, clawed at their faces, beat at their limbs.

Jonquil tugged Lisette’s wrist. “Don’t look,” she whispered, as if Lisette was still a small child. “Come away.”

But Lisette couldn’t tear her horrified gaze away from those silhouettes. The Chaos shrank around the mages, becoming denser, more compact. It wrapped around them in wet, shining plates of obsidian It pried open their mouths and poured itself into their bodies.

And then it changed them.

The mages’ forms swelled and rippled, engorged with Chaos. Wings burst out of one of them—Lisette thought it was Acidia. She threw her head back with a ringing cry, her neck elongating rapidly, her face lengthening to end in a sharp beak. Her body grew to the size of a horse or a cow, and kept growing. A scaled tail lashed behind her and her feathered wings swept wide.

“O, Protector,” whispered Lisette, just as Jonquil said, low and hard, “Snoutbeck.

One of the other mages raised his head in a howl. His height had not changed but his body was far more muscled, his shoulders rounded, his chest huge. Fur covered his entire body and his hands had clenched into paws. He dropped to all fours and bounded away, into the forest, a tail streaming behind them. The second man, now grown to an impossible height for a human, also covered in fur, arms and legs thick as tree trunks, lumbered after him.

Chaos clung to them all.

The Snoutbeck, her eyes glowing yellow, craned her long neck. Her eyes met Lisette’s, the beak opened, and the creature sprayed acid over the nearest house.

It disintegrated in moments.

Jonquil gasped.

A knot tightened in Lisette’s stomach.

Fear. Resolve.

The Snoutbeck swept her tail, smashing into yet another Cloud Village home.

Lisette knew the creature would not leave until it had destroyed everything—even the meeting hall and the villagers inside it.

She stepped forward.

Jonquil’s hand tightened around her arm, holding her back.

Lisette turned and met her mother’s eyes. “She won’t stop, you know. I’m your best chance right now. I was trained for this.” Her gaze shifted to the mass of people in the hall, to the impenetrable Wulf, to Olina worrying her lower lip with her teeth, to Tamsin who could not meet her eyes at all.

“I’ll keep the Snoutbeck busy,” she said, raising her voice. “I’ll lead her away if I can.” She looked back at Jonquil. “You should get them to safety.”

Jonquil gave a stiff nod. Her hand fell away from Lisette’s arm.

Without that pressure she felt…somewhat empty. Alone. Lisette banished that fleeting thought.

They both had work to do.

They turned away to their respective tasks. Lisette heard Jonquil’s voice give orders, but the distinct words were lost as she sent magic into her wings and launched herself upwards.

She flew over the Snoutbeck. Acidia’s beaked face, now all eagle, tracked her, twisting her sinuous neck.

Lisette called down, “So you think you’re all superior, now that you can fly?” she mocked. “I can still beat you in the air.”

Acidia gave an enraged cry and shoved off the ground. Her great wings flapped, she shot up into the air, faster than Lisette had anticipated. Whiffs of Chaos, crackles of wild magic, brushed against Lisette’s face.

She turned and sped away from the village, Acidia following close behind.

***

Up above the forest, Lisette dodged. The Snoutbeck’s acid spray, now more powerful and longer in range, missed her by inches. The long arc of it fell into the trees and across a clearing with a scorching sizzle. The acrid scent nearly choked Lisette. She half-whirled away and caught sight of a rectangular building, all straight lines and sharp corners, by itself. It looked out of place, nothing she’d seen in a Frejalander settlement…

No time to think about it. Lisette zoomed above Acidia—she was the more experienced flier, faster and more agile than the newly-formed Snoutbeck. Acidia craned up her neck as Lisette targeted her wings with blades of light. If she could ground the beast…

Her attack glanced off the Chaos-made wings, making no cuts, no scores. Acidia’s mouth opened in a sneer. Her enormous wings beat the air, her body rising rapidly to Lisette’s position.

Lisette’s teeth clenched. She was almost out of magic, and she couldn’t pull light from the great blank moon face that stared down at her. She blurred herself, darted up to the Snoutbeck. Acidia snapped, her aim thrown off by the blurring. Lisette had a great up-close view of the sharpness of her beak as she sliced across her neck with bladed fans. Black blood bubbled and steamed out of the cut. Acidia shrieked and thrashed. A wing caught Lisette and sent her tumbling through the sky and into a tree top.

Lisette hit canopy and fell through leaves and branches. She fed magic into her wings and slowed her fall, landing on her feet with a jarring thud. Up above, the Snoutbeck circled, trumpeting a taunting cry.

Lisette could easily curl up and hide herself, but then Acidia might get bored and return to the village.

She couldn’t let that happen.

With a twist of her suns, Lisette sent out a pulse of light. The flash momentarily gilded the trees around her. With a shrill cry, Acidia plummeted down, talons extended.

Lisette sprang back, and Acidia hit the ground. Her huge talons clawed earth, throwing up clumps of soil. Fire jetted out of her open beak.

Lisette ducked and rolled. Trees went up in flames, twists of light and heat and smoke.

Lisette greedily sucked the meager light, but it could barely replenish her supply.

It’ll be enough.

She concentrated her magic and shot a flare of light into Acidia’s eyes. An agonized shriek tore out of the creature’s throat—Lisette knew the attack felt like twin stabs to the brain.

No time to waste. Lisette sprinted for the Snoutbeck’s side, vaulted up to her back, climbed up the neck. Under Acidia’s scaled and feathered hide, Chaos twisted and sparked. Lisette’s hands hurt, but she got herself into position behind the Snoutbeck’s head. She summoned the last of her magic into her closed fans. They sang out with vicious gladness, each a stabbing line of sun-dazzle.

There. Right behind the head, where the scales gave way to feathers. A joint line, a weak place.

Lisette took aim and stabbed.

Acidia bucked. One fan drove through hide and flesh, hit bone. The other slanted sideways, away from the creature’s brain.

Chaos mushroomed from the wounds, right into Lisette’s face. She shut her eyes just in time; it prickled against her skin. She took in one quick, shallow inhalation. Faintness came over her. Her grip slipped, her head felt dizzy…

Lisette fell.

No magic came to her aid this time. No light bloomed inside her, to buoy her up.

She hit the ground with a heavy thud, a metallic crumple.

Her muscles tensed. Move!

Something big and heavy slammed into Lisette. Pressure on her chest. Heat and animal reek in her face.

Acidia peered at her out of globular yellow eyes, pupils narrowed to slits. Her foot pinned Lisette to the ground. Lisette made a feeble movement, and the claws tightened, pressing in from all sides.

A sullen glow limned the Snoutbeck. Dark, stringy stuff oozed out of the wound and down her neck. Lisette saw one of her fans, still buried behind her head.

She had no idea where the other was.

Acidia bent her head, retribution in her eyes. There were so many ways the snoutbeck could kill Lisette here, right now.

Desperately, Lisette scrabbled in her suns for magic and came up empty. She heard the crackle of the fire, smelled the smoke of it, but its light slipped away from her grasp.

Blood pounded in Lisette’s ears. Her heart beat like a drum. Her vision narrowed until all that existed was Acidia’s cruel head. The Chaos-stuff from inside the creaure’s body splattered near Lisette’s head, raising smoke.

An ice-coldness seized Lisette. Shadows pressed in on her. She was back in the caves, weaving in and out of darkness, while nameless things chittered at her.

Inside her.

Lisette thought, I don’t want to die. The puncture wounds in her neck burned.

Her desperate, grasping mental reach found something, tangled in it, pulled.

Darkness rushed into Lisette’s body. Its leading edge pierced through her skin, sank into her chest. Something cold and hard and heavy burned above her heart. Lisette breathed shards of ice. Agony was a ball of lead behind her sternum—one of her suns, overfull with something she can hardly stand.

Darkness swept across her vision. Forest and fire and sky vanished. Acidia’s body sprang out at her in fluorescent colors, in eerie purple, ice blue, vibrant green. Inside the Snoutbeck’s chest spun a ball of glowing yellow, tangled in Chaos stuff.

There.

Lisette didn’t think. She grasped the dark energy inside her throbbing sun. It slid down her veins and into her fingers in a wave of pain that left her gasping. A solid shaft of darkness formed in her hands.

Acidia’s head swung down, beak open.

Lisette flung the spear into the snoutbeck’s chest. It pierced through the glowing yellow sphere.

Acidia screamed. The foot holding Lisette down was wrenched away. The thick darkness and the fluorescence disappeared. Lisette was back in the forest, and the Snoutbeck thrashed in agony nearby, leaking magic and fluid.

Lisette half-scrambled, half-crawled away from the creature’s throes. Her chest hurt with every movement. Her aching arms trembled.

She wanted to be sick. She thought about throwing up darkness and her stomach heaved, twisting dryly. There was nothing left in it but bile. Lisette choked and spat in some nearby bushes as the Snoutbeck’s thrashing grew weaker and stopped.

After a while, Lisette stood up on shaking legs and staggered to where Acidia lay, smaller than she had been, neither human nor Snoutbeck. One of her arms was a shriveled limb to her side, the other outstretched was a limb that did not belong to her frame, a long thin arm with a fringe of feathers dangling from it. Her eyes were human again, staring blankly up at the canopy. Something wet and dark spread from the back of her head.

Lisette was glad she couldn’t see her body clearly. It would make her sick again.

Acidia’s eyes focused on Lisette face as the girl crouched beside her. Her mouth, human again, twisted. “So strong,” she whispered. “Frejalanders are so strong. So resistant to Chaos. I wish”—she coughed—“that I had dissected more of you.”

Lisette’s nostrils flared.

“They wouldn’t let me,” she continued on a fluttering sigh. “They wanted the children for the camps.”

A pit opened up in Lisette’s stomach. “What do you mean?” she rasped. “What camps?” Which children?

Was Micah one of them?

But Acidia was fading away, lost in her own thoughts, her own world. “It would take so long to raise them up, provided you could even do so properly. My way was faster, more efficient,” she insisted. “I was on the right track, I know it. If only I could adjust the serum, just a little more…”

Lisette grabbed the woman’s shoulders. “Tell me about the children. Where are they?”

Acidia twitched. “Not my department.” Her smile twisted. “They closed me down too early. I knew I was so close…”

Frantic impatience fluttered inside Lisette, almost banishing the pain in her chest. She had so many questions. “Who is they? Tell me!”

Acidia’s wandering gaze came to Lisette’s face. Recognition crept into her eyes. “Half-baked mage girl,” she whispered. Something thin and dark dribbled out of her mouth. “You cannot stop what’s coming.” Her breath hitched. “You cannot stop”—she gasped—“the Red Dawn.”

The malicious spark died from her eyes. There was no tension in the shoulders Lisette held. She let go of the dead woman and wiped her hands on her trousers. She felt the Chaos drain out of Acidia’s corpse, felt tree roots and small burrowing things reach for it, as they had for centuries. The inhabitants of the Spines, flora and fauna, could handle the periodic incursions of Chaos.

Supposedly that included the people, too. People that Acidia’s group—this Red Dawn—had stolen away to study—dissect—or put into camps.

That building she’d glimpsed above the forest. The one that looked out of place in the forest. Was that Acidia’s base?

Lisette planted her hands in the soil and pushed herself to her feet. The forest was wet from all the rain; Acidia’s fires had died down to smolders. Good. She didn’t need to worry about that now. She could find that building and…

Lisette swayed. A fist of ice rammed into her chest and stayed there. Cold and darkness swept over her. She felt herself falling, this time into unconsciousness.

She thought someone reached out and caught her before she hit the ground.

Author’s Note: I’m finally done writing the first draft of this arc! Three more episodes after this one will wrap it up. I also finally picked a name for the shadowy nefarious group behind some of the odd goings-on we’ve seen so far. Red Dawn was not on my original list of names, but I like it so much better than Cabal and Conspiracy and New Order (yeah, I clearly needed to clear away all the terrible, no-good names before I got to something good.) 

All three mages wore masks. Lisette scanned the two in front, both of them men. One was short and wiry, dressed in leather and fur, face hidden behind a snarling wolf mask. Silver bands encircled his arms and legs, chains looped around his waist. The other was larger, bulkier, shouldering something that looked like a hand-held cannon. An electric hum emanated from him. His yellow mask leered at Lisette.

But the one at the back, a woman with loosely-bound dark hair, was clearly the leader. Her entire body was coated in a thick pearlescent substance that came up to her neck. She wore a half-mask over her eyes, a bronze thing fashioned like an eagle’s head, fierce and beautiful.

“Who are you?” Lisette demanded. “What do you want?” A taut energy filled her body, hot and bitter at the same time.

Something had happened to her in the caves, when she’d been bitten. She couldn’t worry about that now. Couldn’t worry about Naia and Amber. Couldn’t even worry about Micah. Not while facing down these unfriendly masked mages.

Under the beak of her mask, the woman’s lips curved into a smile. “So, this miserable village found a half-baked little mage girl to protect it. How truly pathetic.”

Jonquil strode past Lisette. Lisette put out a hand to stop the older woman, but Jonquil ignored it. Her mother faced down the mages, her arms folded and her gaze narrowed. “You are the mages who destroyed Misthollow and Bern’s Landing.”

Lisette drew in a breath. Both were nearby settlements.

The woman shrugged, dismissive. A ripple went down the thick substance covering her arm. “Their people got a little too nosy. You should’ve learned their lesson and kept to yourselves, but then you had to go and allow other mages into this area. And we can’t have that!”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Lisette demanded. “Who are you with? What are you doing out here?”

The woman wagged a finger at Lisette. “Tut-tut, dear. You don’t want to know. Then we’d really have to kill you.”

Wolf Mask snickered. “Why wait, Acidia?” He gestured with one hand, and Lisette jerked to the side as a silver arrow darted past her face from behind. The silver smacked into the man’s upraised arm, shivered into two blobs which curved into two bracelets.

Silver manipulator. Lisette’s gaze flickered to Yellow Mask. Lightning mage. Then to the woman named Acidia. I can guess what she is.

Jonquil said, “We may not be mages, but we don’t go down without a fight. You won’t find us that easy to beat.”

Lisette caught movement off to her side. Figures darted in the shadows of houses, flickered among trees.

They’d have magic-resistant arrows, tipped with suppression heads. But three mages would still be too strong, unless she could even the odds a bit.

That same energy still churned inside her, restless, demanding. Do it, do it, it seemed to say.

Sorry, Master Zoya, Lisette thought, even though you told me that spell isn’t ready yet. I have to try.

Lisette unloosened her magic. It flooded her entire body. Her toes and fingers tingled; she was suddenly light and untethered.

Now!

Lisette flung herself forward. Everything else slowed down; she caught the minute shift of Yellow Mask’s body, the slow movement of Wolf Face’s eyes behind his mask as she flashed past them, inhumanly fast.

A twist of her magic and Lisette slammed to a stop behind the woman, her bladed fan at Acidia’s pale throat. Pain flashed up her leg, stabbed into her torso. She grimaced. She hadn’t mastered that magic-induced super speed yet, but at least she wasn’t writhing in pain or bleeding from the inside.

Arrows flew from the shadows. Wolf Face’s silver bracelets broke apart into scatter shot; lightning crackle streamed off Yellow Mask. They stiffened with surprise. Lisette’s lips twitched into a grim smile.

Charmstone tipped the arrows. They attracted magic to them, drawing it out of the mages.

The next instant came the suppression arrows. The two mages ducked and weaved, but there were too many to dodge. One buried itself into Wolf Face’s calf, another dug into Yellow Mask’s shoulder. They yelped.

Held fast by Lisette, Acidia sucked in a gulp of air.

She chuckled.

Lisette threw herself backward. An arc of liquid jetted from the woman’s body, clipped Lisette’s wrist, burning as it drew across the skin. Lisette hissed, then jumped into the air as another acidic whip swept where her knees would’ve been. Gold-black magic poured into her wings, leaving trails of soot in her veins.

Acidia tipped back her head. “You can fly, but you can’t escape.” The thick substance covering her body rippled again. Whips lashed at Lisette; she dodged and flew out of range. On the ground, the two men had recovered; even with the suppression burning ice-cold in their flesh, they sent magic all around them in an abundance of destruction. Silver bullets smashed through wooden doors and oiled-paper windows. Electricity danced upon roofs, blackening tiles.

Wulf had pulled Jonquil away from the scene, right up to the entrance of the meeting hall. Lisette sent a barrage of light darts—edged black—at the three mages. Acidia swept her arm, and a wave of viscous substance absorbed the darts. Droplets scattered across the grass, hissing as they landed.

Pain throbbed in Lisette’s neck. Her body felt heavier than she was accustomed to, and her muscles leaden and tired. Her super-speed spell had drained her almost dry. Light and dark magic warred inside her.

In the growing gloom, Lisette could no longer make out the enemy mages’ features. They were just sinister, dark figures with magic coming off them in waves, destroying the place she had grown up in.

Acidia flicked a tentacle across a wooden façade, scoring a deep line across the house that the village healer had lived in. Still did, if he hadn’t died. “You won’t be able to do anything, little girl,” she called. “This village is doomed.”

Jonquil stood at the entrance to the meeting hall, still stubbornly staying outside. Wulf was recognizable next to her, and that slighter figure had to be Olina. Every now and again, archers shot arrows at the mages, who brushed them off as if they were flies.

Anger bubbled up inside Lisette, buoying her for just a little longer. How dare they? The magic that rose up in response was all restless shadows, but she would take anything that would help her now…

Someone shouted from the trees, loud and alarmed, “Chaos! Chaos is here!”

***

Naia and Amber stayed on the bank for a long time after the mules had passed by. Long enough for the golden afternoon to shade to a greyish dusk, before they cautiously climbed down to the track. By mutual, silent understanding, they turned down the road, following the hoofprints, instead of the way the lone mage had gone.

The track slipped them down the mountains and into yet another hollow. The clouds rolled across the sun as they walked, and soon it was dripping again. Amber clutched her shredded cloak to herself and walked with her head bowed. She looked as wet and miserable as a half-drowned cat. Every now and again, she swallowed back a cough. The bruises on her face stood out lividly and the knuckles of the hand that held the cloak were very white.

Naia frowned. Amber was cold and exhausted. She needed rest, and soon. Naia found herself mentally explaining to an image of Kael how they’d let Amber get in such a bad state, and shook her head. No, she didn’t really want to do that.

Naia herself was in better shape, but then she had always liked the rain. Had always loved the water. While her peers had been tumbling around in air currents, Naia had preferred playing in a pool or going on a long, hard swim. She loved the feeling of being in water, of being light and buoyant the way she wasn’t in air. In the air, she always felt heavy, the air currents so slight and on the verge of slipping out of her magical grasp. A teacher had once described her magic as “ponderous”; even after all this time and the dedicated practice that made her a good air mage, a squirt of embarrassment ran through her at the memory.

Something to their left caught Naia’s eye. She stopped. “Look.” She pointed at a thread of a track running in that direction, through some trees. Despite the haze of rain, she made out the dark, damp side of a building. The mules’ hoofprints continued down the main track—they hadn’t turned off in that direction. Naia thought that was a good sign.

Amber raised her head and took on a listening sort of look. “I don’t sense anyone in that direction. It’s abandoned—I think.” She gave a little shake of the head. “I’m sorry. I can’t sense much right now. Everything’s a muddle.” The gesture seemed to be too much for her, for she stumbled and Naia took a firm hold of her arm.

“We need a place to rest for the night,” she said. “Somewhere dry.” She had to get Amber out of the rain. She had a fleeting wish she was a fire mage. Then she could’ve offered the other girl a chance to get warm.

Naia sighed, feeling useless. The sensation pressed on her, too familiar. She pushed it away. She would take care of things as they came. First, get the tired pattern mage into shelter.

Still holding on to Amber, she headed down the winding track. Water dripped from leaves overhead, pattering onto her bare head. Droplets ran across her scalp and down her neck. A rushing sigh filled the canopy overhead, the world seemed to hold its breath, the rain came down harder.

The girls broke into a stumbling run. The building Naia had seen before loomed ahead of them, but it was no good—it had lost half its roof, and huge holes gaped in its walls. There were other huts around, all in ruins and just as depressing. Naia’s heart sank. She would rather sleep under a tree than in any of them.

Wait. Naia’s eyes were drawn to a shape on the far edge of the settlement, washed with a weak light from a break in the cloud cover. It was small, but seemed whole, with a thatched roof, sturdy walls, and a covered porch.

There was a rocking chair on the porch, and someone sat in it.

A shiver of strangeness ran over Naia. An old woman knitting on the porch would’ve been a common sight in Carradia, but was out of place in this desolate settlement. And not only that, but the light-bathed house and the area surrounding it were completely dry.

No rain fell upon the roof.

Beside her, Amber coughed. Naia felt a tremble go through the pattern mage’s body. Her concern for the other girl won out over her wariness. The old woman might be a foe, she might be a friend. Naia wasn’t going to find out which one by hanging back.

She strode towards the house, towing Amber with her.

They broke through a curtain of rain and into the sphere of dryness. The old woman’s needles went on busily clicking. Her knitting was only a faint shimmer in her lap, and Naia caught a sense of magic, a deep magic that existed in a behind-everything-sort-of-way.

It was magic that was familiar in a strange, exhilarating way. Something inside Naia rose up in glad recognition, but she couldn’t think why or how.

And then the woman looked up. Her eyes were a glowing, vibrant blue, and Naia knew.

Amber said, soft and sighing, “Ohhhh.”

She fainted.

Naia caught the other girl before she fell to the ground, surprised by the sudden deadweight. She stood uncertainly, not knowing what to do. Should she lay Amber on the driest patch of ground? Or…

“Hey,” she called to the woman. “Can I put her on the porch?”

“You’d better bring her inside,” said the woman placidly. Her voice was murmuringly musical, like the susurrus of water. Her silver needles still flashed as she worked, though her bright gaze was on Naia’s face. “It’s warm and dry. Put her on the bed.”

Naia half-carried, half-dragged Amber up the steps and to the open doorway. The old woman bent her silver head over her knitting. It was still mostly invisible up close, made of clear, fluid strands.

Naia peeked into the house. It was only one room, with silvery wooden walls and whitish wooden boards. There was little furniture in it—one chair, one table, one chest. On the far side was a pallet, covered with a quilt in hues of blue. It added a homey touch to the room.

Naia brushed aside the quilt with her foot, and eased Amber onto the pallet. She tried to remove Amber’s cloak, but it was in such bad shape, she was afraid she would rip it. Besides, it was already dry and Amber’s clothes underneath it only a touch dampish. The pallet itself was warm, as if it was being heated in a way Naia couldn’t make out. She tucked the quilt around the pattern mage, and felt a far-off brush of magic. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought the quilting blocks flowed into each other, in constantly shifting blues. Waves of silver stitchery stood out across the quilt.

Naia looked down at Amber. The girl had stopped shivering and lay in relaxed sleep, the color returning to her face and her lips slightly parted. She seemed to be breathing fine, and her forehead, when Naia put the back of her hand on it, was cool.

Naia returned to the porch and asked, “Will she be all right? Should I fetch some water to bathe her face? I’ve never had anyone faint on me before.?”

“Oh, yes,” said the woman absently. “She had a trying day, and then a shock. It was kinder to put her to sleep. She will wake up much better rested.”

Naia turned over the implications in her head. “Are you going to put me to sleep?” she demanded.

“No. I want to talk to you.” Having said this, the woman seemed to be in no great hurry to continue. Her needles moved on, though slowly now, and her gaze was fixed upon the rain-blurred forest.

Naia decided, in a rush, that the woman meant her no harm. And even if she did… well, Naia wasn’t planning on borrowing trouble. Right now, both she and Amber were far better off than they had been ten minutes ago. She sat down on the top porch step and put her arms around her knees.

“I recognized your magic,” she remarked to the woman, not looking at her. Those bright eyes were intense. Even Ainsley’s purple eyes were easier to meet. “It’s the same as under the mountain.”

The woman nodded. “My bones rest there,” she said matter-of-factly.

What are you?  Naia opened her mouth to say. At the last second, she changed it to, “What’s your name?”

“You can call me Argenta.”

Naia craned her neck to look at her. The woman’s hands rested on her lap, still for once. Something shifted into those blue eyes, not a quick flicker of a small darting thing, but the turning of a leviathan, a giant shadow falling across the land…

Naia blinked, and the woman’s eyes were eyes once more. Once again, she took up her knitting. It flowed across her hands and lap. The needles flashed. Naia smelled rain. The swell of water filled the air, as if a cloud had come visiting.

Across the clearing, the rain thinned.

Naia sat up. “It’s the rain,” she said. “You’re knitting the rain.”

“Indeed,” said Argenta.

There didn’t seem to be anymore to say. Naia had never heard of—never suspected—such a technique, but there was such as sense of rightness to it. It was right for Argenta to be sitting in her rocking chair, knitting rain.

“I wish I could do something with the rain,” said Naia. “Anything at all.” She sighed.

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it’s so slippery,” said Naia gloomily. “I try to hold it, and it slides right out of my grip. I try to cup water in my hands, and it falls through my fingers. I thought it would be easier than manipulating air—and it was at first—but now, I can’t seem to figure out how to control either. Every time I try, it goes awry.” She sketched gestures in the air with her hand and let out a frustrated sound.

“You had to work hard to control air,” said Argenta, stating not questioning. “It didn’t come easy to you.” Her blue gaze pierced Naia’s.

“No, but I got good at it. Not brilliant, not like Mahoe and Troi and others, but good. But to see me now, you’d think I was some hamfisted novice.” Tears pricked her eyes. Naia sniffed. “A ponderous blunderer.”

Argenta did some looping things with her barely-there yarn. The sky above was clearing rapidly, clouds dissolving into the blue.

After a while, Naia said in a tired way. “I always felt like my winds were on the verge of slipping out of control. I always had to fight them, to bend them to my will. Like I was bossing them around—no bullying them.” Her vision swam, but she raised her chin, inviting Argenta’s reprimand.

It didn’t come. Instead, “Water,” Argenta mused, “will fall or flow, no matter what. If you try to hold it tight, it’ll always slip your grasp. But you can guide it, direct it. You can create a channel. You can be a channel. If you’re willing to let go and let it carry you.” That unsettling gaze pierced Naia, seeming to peel back the layers of her mind.

Naia sucked in her breath. She opened her mouth, but Argenta shifted, leaning forward a little, her gaze on something in the distance. “It comes.”

Naia followed her look. The tall mountains in the distance were covered in thick fog, grey with lightning flickers of green and purple. She felt an electric crackle in the air, one that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Within the fog was something blind, restless, devouring.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Argenta replied, “Chaos.”

Author’s Note: The rain-knitting woman, finally! I had this image of her since the beginning of the arc. I’m glad she could give Naia some advice about her water magic. Hope it’ll help her–especially with Chaos descending down the mountains!

Cloud Village had barely changed in the eight years Lisette had been gone.

There were still the same wooden houses with weathered boards and pitched roofs, brown all over, doorways facing dirt streets and the scraggly common. The same huddle of goat and sheep pens to the west, the same long gardens behind every house stretching into the forest’s shadow. The meeting hall stood on the eastern side of the common; it was the largest structure in the village, and the only one made of stone.

The same smell of livestock hung over the place. The same feel of magic suppression pressed down on Lisette from all sides. The bracelets on her wrists felt like manacles, despite the catch she could undo at any time.

The only thing that was different was…

“Where is everybody?” Her voice rang out, directed at Wulf’s back. Tamsin, who’d been talking to one of their escorts, stopped. The other men in the hunting party, all youths Lisette had known as boys, faltered as well.

Wulf said nothing. He didn’t turn, didn’t change stride. On he went, towards the meeting hall. After a moment, everyone trailed after him. Tamsin gave Lisette a pleading look, mouthed, “Come on,” and followed.

Lisette clenched her fists. That was Wulf, unhelpful as ever. What had she expected from the man who invariably found her when she used magic illicitly and took her back home to her mother?

“Lisette,” said a young man next to her. “Please come. You’ll see.” It was the first time any of the villagers had acknowledged her by name, the first time anyone had shown signs of recognizing her.

She narrowed a glare at him, but he stood his ground and met her gaze with a direct one of his on. His eyes were brown and concerned.

Her memory twitched. “Aiden, right?” she said.

He nodded, then ducked his head. “Olina and I were married last year.”

Lisette stared at him, speechless. He was now her brother-in-law. Of course, Olina would marry some time. Why had she never considered this? And Micah…he would be almost old enough to go on hunting parties.  Her head whirled, trying to assimilate all these changes.

“Congratulations,” she said finally, lamely.

Did his cheeks redden? “She wants to see you. Please come. Dusk falls, and there have been attacks in the village.”

“All right.” She had come this far, she should see it through.

But… Olina wants to see me? Lisette snorted. Not likely!

***

Everybody turned out to be inside the meeting hall. Lisette’s nostrils flared at the reek of cooped-up bodies. Nut candles burned inside lanterns, adding their own pungent aroma to the odorous atmosphere. Wavering pools of yellow light dotted the hall. Shadows gathered in between, thick as cobwebs.

Lisette had forgotten how meager light in the village was. At Heartwood, in Carradia, in big cities and small villages elsewhere on the continent, people used rune lanterns freely. They didn’t spoil their eyesight squinting in the dimness.

She felt a stab of anger. My people, stuck in the past. They’d rather be proud and primitive than accept that magic is not evil after all.

Suppression was built into the very bones of the hall, milk-white veins snaking through stone blocks. Its presence gnawed against Lisette and fanned her ire.

She was almost the last into the hall. Behind her, Aiden closed the door, shutting out the cool dusk and the fresh air. Lisette fought down the wild urge to hit him with her collapsed wings, wrench open the door, and run screaming into the night.

Instead, she lifted her chin, folded her arms, and waited as the people in front of her edged out of her way and into the rustling crowd. In her periphery were dim figures with pale faces. She refused to look closely enough to recognize anyone.

A small space cleared in front of her. Tamsin and Wulf stood in the middle of it. A tall, broad-shouldered woman strode forward to greet them. Her gray-gold braid swung behind her.

Mother. Lisette’s stomach clenched.

Tamsin smiled at the headwoman of Cloud Village and said something Lisette was too far to make out.

Jonquil turned. Her blue eyes met Lisette’s. Something flashed in them. Lisette steeled herself. The stares of a hundred people prickled her skin. The room seemed to hold its breath.

Jonquil said, “Daughter.”

Bile churned in Lisette’s stomach. A painful lump stuck in her throat. She couldn’t have said a word even if she’d wanted to.

She jerked her chin downward. The gesture was curt, ungracious.

“Oh, come now, Lisette.” Tamsin hurried over, took her by the arm, dragged her forward. “Everyone wants to see you. Don’t be shy.” She smiled at Jonquil. “It’s awkward for her, you understand, after all this time.”

“I suppose,” said Jonquil, still looking at Lisette. Her eyes were heavier-lidded than Lisette remembered, but still keen. Her eyebrows rose. “You are here unwillingly?”

“I have no fond memories of this place.” Lisette spoke through stiff lips, held herself tall and tight. Her neck ached, her head pounded. She looked past Jonquil, to the table behind her laden with food. She recognized the layered cake that was a staple of all Cloud Village celebrations. Had her coming interrupted a wedding feast or coming-of-age rite?

Jonquil nodded her head, accepting. “Still, I am glad you came.” She turned to Tamsin. “Thank you for bringing her.”

“Oh, no, well, I…” Tamsin stammered.

“Wait.” Lisette’s eyes narrowed. “Have you two met before?”

Surprise flickered in Jonquil’s eyes. “Did Tamsin not tell you?”

The pieces clicked into place. Jonquil’s lack of surprise at seeing Lisette. Tamsin arriving at Heartwood and asking Lisette to come along to the Spines. Her airy assurance that they wouldn’t go near Cloud Village, her insistence that Lisette get over what happened in the past.

The vial that Tamsin had held earlier, the one with the label: C.V.

Cloud Village.

Tamsin was speaking, very quickly. “Oh, for goodness’s sake, Lisette, I had to get permission from every village chief to survey their territories. It’s not a big deal—”

Her words nibbled at Lisette’s hearing. She only half-comprehended them. Lisette watched Tamsin’s mouth move and her hands flutter, and all she could think was how much the other girl resembled a puppet. A puppet with desperate impatience in her eyes, while her hands and mouth moved in meaningless ways. A puppet whose veneer of sophistication covered only self-interest.

Her chest felt tight.

“Frejalanders,” said Lisette distantly, “have nothing to do with magic. They wouldn’t allow strange mages to just dig in the area. What did you offer Cloud Village, Tamsin?”

Tamsin’s mouth remained open, but no more words came out.

It was Jonquil who answered. “A chance to meet my daughter again. A chance to…mend bridges. It was not my intention to trick you into coming here.”

Lisette gave a bitter laugh and held out her hands, showing the suppression still upon her wrists. “Is this your idea of mending bridges?”

Jonquil gazed at her steadily. “It is still the best way to protect our people. Magic use attracts predators. It attracts Chaos. That has not changed, though since you left, our thinking on other matters has.”

The bands around Lisette’s heart melted to fire, ran molten into her veins. She welcomed the heat. “Lies,” she snapped. “I have no idea why you dragged me back, but I’m not going to play happy families with you.”

“Lisette!” appealed Tamsin.

“Don’t talk to me.” Her words flashed with anger, but Lisette couldn’t even bring herself to look at the other mage. “You used me. Bringing me to the Spines was only a part of your business deal. You don’t care a jot about Amber and Naia, about rescuing them.” She snatched the bracelets off her wrists and hurled them to the floor. They landed with twin thuds.

A blaze ran through her entire body. Good. Anger was better than…the other thing.

“I’m through here.” Lisette whirled on her heel, her wings flaring and sparking behind her. “I’m finding Amber and Naia, and we three are going home.” She glared at Aiden, frozen by the door. “Unbar that door right now, before I smash it into splinters myself.” Magic snaked through her veins and whispered in her suns. It wasn’t the glad goldenness she was used to, but something with a burning and venomous edge, like the bite of a copperhead.

Aiden’s gaze flickered beyond Lisette’s shoulder. Lisette gritted her teeth, her fingers twitching with power.

“Wait!” The voice wasn’t Jonquil’s, but younger, higher, more ringing. And also familiar.

Lisette took in a breath so sharp, it hurt.

“Wait,” said Olina again. Lisette didn’t—wouldn’t—turn around to look at her sister. Let Olina be just a voice in the darkness behind her. She was leaving, and they couldn’t stop her. She was a trained mage now. They could no longer cage her.

So why was she still stuck to the floor, her body shaking with rage, dangerously close to tears?

“You’ve been gone for eight years,” Olina went on, steady, controlled. “Things have happened, things have changed. Don’t you want to know about them?”

No! yelled Lisette inside. But her traitorous lips were locked tight, her treacherous ears wouldn’t stop listening.

“Almost two dozen people were taken by Chaos. We’ve had three successive years of bad harvests. Papa died—we sent a letter. Did you receive it?”

Yes, Lisette had. She’d had no answer to make. With Papa gone, there was more, not less, reason to stay away from Cloud Village, away from the people who had rejected her. He had been the only one to give her his blessing when she’d left with Master Zoya and the rest to go to Heartwood.

Her voice throbbing with controlled emotion, Olina continued, “And yet people got married and had children.” She recited a list, the names falling on all of Lisette’s raw places, filling her with a swelling ache. “I got married, too. I’ll thank you not to explode a door all over my husband.” Wry amusement touched her tone.

The next moment, it was gone. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “How is Micah? At least tell us that.”

Those few words broke through the horrible immobility smothering Lisette. She swung around, the movement jerky, unbelieving. Her eyes met her sister’s for the first time in eight years, clashing against Olina’s blue gaze, so like her own. “What do you mean by that?” Her voice was a strangled whisper.

Olina stood there, gold to Lisette’s dark. Her head was held as proudly as ever, her face smooth and unlined, but something crept into her eyes.

Trouble.

Jonquil, at her older daughter’s shoulder, said, “A year ago, Micah began showing magic, the same as you. It was bad. We couldn’t control it, not without burying him in suppression. A mage was passing through, and we spoke to her. She agreed to take Micah to that school of yours, and we sent Wulf’s grandson Raoul with them. We had a letter from Raoul saying they had gotten there safely a month ago. We haven’t heard anything since. Raoul hasn’t returned.”

Lisette felt all the blood drain from her face, rush to her feet. The world tilted.

She said, still in that tight whisper, “He never came.”

The air seemed to grow thin in the aftermath of a collective inhalation of breath. The candle flames wavered, casting flickers all over everything. Tamsin made a move, checked. Olina’s mouth and eyes rounded.

But Lisette’s eyes were on her mother. Jonquil’s expression hadn’t changed, but all of a sudden, she looked older, heavier, grayer, as if the sun had hidden behind clouds and taken away its gilding warmth.

Lisette opened her mouth, snapped it shut. A sudden pressure shoved against her back. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Urgency thrummed in her bones, shook her out of the moment.

Outside the hall was a buildup of magic.

Lisette whirled and lunged at Aiden. His mouth gaped open as she shoved him to the side. “Everyone, get against the walls and get down!”

The thick oaken door exploded.

Time seemed to slow down as magic surged out of Lisette. The flesh around the puncture wounds in her neck burned.

A wall of light, dark gold, its edges streaming black, sprang up in front of her. Wooden debris and metal bullets crashed against it. Lisette’s insides flared; she fought to stay planted, keep from reeling back.

The spell rippled, held just long enough to stop the barrage.

The wall disappeared. Lisette took a staggering step backward. Her entire body felt as if she’d been mercilessly pummeled.

The gaping doorway opened into a grey dusk. Three figures stood in it, out on the tiny common. Magic pressed against Lisette, including a familiar, ominous crackle. Her muscles twitched, remembering electricity jolting through them.

“Stay back, everybody,” she ordered, and strode out of the building.

Author’s Note: This scene was troublesome. I wrote it, moved it to a different place in the sequence, added stuff to it, revised it. There’s so much going on with Lisette’s emotions, revelations and betrayals. And now Lightning Guy is back. Urk.