"Oh, wow." Gwen choked up, conquered by a torrent of welling emotions. Before her very eyes, engraved onto the Tower's dark, marble floor, was a glowing Teleportation Circle. "I can't believe it's still here."

"I couldn't bring myself to disenchant it." Gunther's tone grew paternal as he patted Gwen's shoulders. "I had the Mandala preserved after we relocated. It's only one-way now, but very much still functional."

"That's fine." Gwen stepped around the old Teleportation Circle. Her grandfather had inscribed the one in Pokolbin, but her Master had engraved its twin in the Tower. "I'll go and visit Opa tomorrow. I don't think I can fly back in time for dinner if I go now."

"Maybe you should inform him of your arrival."

"Naw." Gwen shook her head. "I want it to be a surprise. Is he hale?"

"Your grandfather lives an interesting lifestyle," Gunther said, keeping a straight face. "If he's sick, I would have known."

"Even if Opa's not," Gwen joked, admonishing Gunther's stoicism. "I can bring him back from the dead."

Gunther coughed. "Let's not get carried away."

"How do I access the circle? Tomorrow, I mean."

"I'll arrange clearance for you." Gunther tapped his Message Device. "Look, I've got to get back to work. Alesia should return in an hour. Yue won't be joining us?"

"She's got the family to attend to," Gwen said. "It's been almost three months since she last saw her mother."

"How admirable," Gunther approved. "See you at dinner, Gwen."

"Will do." Gwen gave her brother-in-craft another hug. "Thanks for preserving the Mandala."

"No need." Gunther grinned. Before Gwen could speak, he patted her head. "To Alesia and I, you're the only family we've got left, so don't rush, you're still young. When you return from London and Sydney has settled, we'll go visit Master and Sufina together. Then, we'll find Sobel."

As the fiancee of Sydney's Tower Master, there was no particular reason for the Scarlet Sorceress to stay in her old apartment. Nonetheless, out of sentimentality and or stubbornness, that's what she did.

Located north of Lavender Bay and overlooking Wyatt Park, the former "Bay Lodge" of Nelson's Point had survived the Leviathan with no more than shattered shopfronts and flooded basements. The aftermath, however, saw Alesia's building playing home to the abruptly displaced refugees of the eastern suburbs. At her behest, the lower floors and the old commercial centre had turned into soup kitchens and its multi-story parking lot into temporary shelters.

But once the crisis passed, the once august locale had lost all of its well-to-do owners and tenants. Furthermore, its new inhabitants were no longer named Mages that graced Sydney's social circles. Instead, newly wealthy migrants filled the skyscraper's middle floors, while the lower levels were converted into restaurants and cafes catering to the new flux of foreign workers.

Alesia de Botton's residence in the penthouse suite, therefore, had become a fable of sorts. For a building located not so conveniently across the bay from Sydney's new Tower, it was difficult for the inhabitants to conceive that the premier Mage in Oceania and his wife lived a few floors up.

Presently, within the lodge, in a closeted chamber shielded from Divination, Gwen materialised.

With an irrepressible sense of nostalgia, she brushed the motes of sizzling Conjuration from her dress. Three years ago, she had teleported with Alesia into this very spot, knowing almost nothing about the world within which she had found herself. Then, after changing into a borrowed dress, they had gone to see her Master, Henry Kilroy.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

"Gwen— is that you?" Alesia's voice rang out before Gwen could even walk through the door.

"Alesia, it's me!" She called back. "Er… I can't open the secret door. Did you change the Glyph?"

"Ah— Gunther had new wards installed. One sec!"

There was a din of stomping feet, then the wooden panel slid into its hidden recess, revealing a familiar face. Compared to when Gwen had first met her sister-in-craft, the Alesia de Botton of today appeared older, more worn and threadbare compared to the vivacious woman Gwen had met almost three years ago.

"Allie!"

"Gwen!"

The pair embraced. Alesia delivered a mighty hug that wholly enveloped her sibling-in-craft. She kissed her twice, once on each cheek.

"You've scared us almost to death!" The sorceress pulled herself away. "A Lich! Who the hell fights a Lich?!"

"It had me pinned!" Gwen protested. "Did you watch the whole thing? I did my best to try and bluff it, but the damned thing wasn't afraid of Dragons. It was either fight or flight. I mean, it was tossing Disintegrates like confetti!"

"I saw— at any rate, no more Liches for our Gwen-Gwen." Alesia kissed her again on the head. "Gods, that was too close. Fucking Chinese organisers, I just knew they would be full of shit."

"No one anticipated a literal Lich."

"Well, I think you should have burned Gunther's Ring as soon as you saw the limp-dick bastard. Fuck the competition. There's no merit in celebrating dead champions."

Assaulted by Alesia's foul-mouthed kindness, Gwen melted in her sister's arms. Finally, here was someone whose reaction was entirely within the range of rational and reasonable expectations.

"Still, I survived!" Gwen intoned sincerely. Thinking of her future majordomo, she decided to test the tension between them. "Walken saved my life, you should know. I survived thanks to him."

"No—" Alesia wagged a finger rudely in her face. "Walken saved his arse. If you had died, Gunther would have reduced him to cinders. Hell, I would have scorched the bastard from inside out, starting with his marrows."

"He almost died saving me. I had to CPR him back to life."

"It was an act of desperation," Alesia insisted. "But enough about that snake. So, London, eh? Looking forward to it?"

"Oh, absolutely." Gwen grinned from ear to ear. "Cambridge and Elvia, what's not to like?"

Alesia laughed, inviting Gwen upstairs to the penthouse. As before, Alesia proceeded to her fridge, inside, as per Gwen's initial visit, were rows upon rows of beer.

"Jesus, Allie, that's no way for the First Lady of Sydney to live."

"Ha! Did Gunther tell you?" Alesia raised an elegant brow.

"Tell me what?"

"I am Missus Shultz now."

"WHAT!" Gwen almost crushed her can of stout. "WHEN?"

"When I got back from Shanghai." Alesia giggled. "After speaking to Ayxin, I decided it was time. Gunther and I, we're not going to find some else like ourselves. If a Dragon could find the courage to straddle the human she loves, why not me? It was a civil ceremony. We're both far too busy to organise a wedding and there are far too many young hussies in the Tower aiming to be Missus Shultz I didn't want to invite. That and I have only Yue and you, and Gunther his thousands of contacts..."

Gwen appeared devastated.

"Allie! WOE IS ME. The matrimony of de Botton and Shultz was supposed to be THE event of the decade! We're talking LORD GUNTHER von SHULTZ here! The King of Australia! You could have had an Opera House wedding dressed in white, with a train that stretches from Circular Quay to the Bennelong's lawn! The hair! The jewellery! The Vid-casts! The— THE CATERING! ARRRGH—!"

"Hahaha..." Alesia's laughter shook the window panes. "You're so funny."

"No, seriously!" Gwen almost tore out a clump of her precious hair. "I wanted to be your bridesmaid! O my God! How can this be? One of my most fervent dreams, shattered by inconvenient scheduling! How is Gunther okay with this?"

"Gunther preferred it. He was oh-so-relieved when I told him we should just get the Governor-General to come and officiate at the Tower. Fifteen minutes was all it took. Gunther zipped the old feller up to his office; then it was all over. I've got the certificate witnessed and sealed and everything. You want to see?"

"I do, but still—" Gwen felt physical pain. A civil ceremony? She could imagine the riot if William and Kate decided that a Westminster wedding was too much of a hassle, and so got notarised at the motor registry. "You have to give me time to digest this thing. I can't believe it. Gunther and Alesia, hitched! In an office! By the GG!"

"It's not so bad." Alesia drummed her tummy absentmindedly.

"Holy COWS—" Gwen's lips trembled, as did her fingers. "Are you…"

"No, not yet." Alesia smiled. "You know how it is. The more talented a Mage, the harder it is for us to conceive. That's why sorceresses marry young— and why you're so damn popular. As for us, we're trying, but nature is going to take a long while to get here."

"Well, you can give it a push! Are you menstruating on the regular? Have you counted your ovulation days?"

"What kind of question is that?" Now, it was Alesia's turn to splutter. With her expression suddenly reserved, she regarded Gwen with suspicion. "And what would you know about pregnancy?! Have you got a boyfriend yet?"

"What? No way."

"Then— HAVE YOU BEEN WITH A BOY?!" Alesia pointed a trembling finger toward Gwen's face.

"Allie, the only dudes I chill with are family, workers, and Dragons—"

"HOLY SHIT, GWEN!" Alesia quivered with disbelief. "IS IT A DRAGON?! GUNTHER is going to be PISSED. Are we talking about the Wyvern or the Thunder Dragon? OR BOTH? Two at once? Jesus— Look, it doesn't matter, they fry all the same—"

"No! No! No!" Gwen crossed her fingers to form an X, warding away Alesia' sudden hysteria. "Absolutely no boys! AND NO DRAGONS."

"You better not be lying to me—"

"Look, if you recall, my Babulya is the director of the Second PLA Army Hospital," Gwen declared with a straight face. "I am a girl, and she's an experienced medical practitioner. Naturally, in the course of our filial conversations, we've discussed such matters that pertain to female anatomy and fertility."

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Really…"

"YES!"

Alesia's shoulders fell.

"Then why aren't you dating?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "So, are you and Gunther having problems conceiving?"

"Not as such." Alesia squirmed. "It's just how it is. All older sorceress will run into the same problem. The more magic one possesses, the more problems a woman encounters. Some folks say since our lifespan increases, it's only natural for our fertility to decrease. For me, since I am a combat sorceress, I've sustained quite a bit of damage in my youth. If you recall, during that time we ran into your snake, Edgar and his goon took out a chunk of my gut. Then, during Sobel's invasion, I burned up half my conduits. All that healing takes a toll. Upper-tier mystic ingredients don't just fall from the tree, you know."

"Bloody hell, Allie." Gwen held her sibling's hand, feeling her cold fingers tense. "Don't you worry, you're still young…"

"Young?" Alesia snorted. "Now you're making fun of me. My body's probably all kinds of beaten by now."

"Nah, you don't have to worry about that." Gwen grinned mysteriously. "Injuries? Accumulated body fatigue? Pufft! That's nothing. Let's wait for Gunther. For you guys? I've got the good shit..."

"Gunther, you've CHANGED." Gwen stabbed her fork into the oily breast of a roasted Teak-beak Goose. "TAKE AWAY, really?"

"You have only yourself to blame." Gunther massaged his eyes. "I spent the whole afternoon reading those manuscripts you left me and lost track of time. It's going to take a few months to gather the personnel, but I expect we should be able to get a division of scribes up and running before the next financial year."

"You'll need to establish an Enforcer team as well, filled with Mages you trust. Folks will do anything to dodge their taxes and cheat the government of its rightful dues. Killing, I'd imagine, would be the least of your problems."

"I know."

"Still, that's no excuse for sub-par food!" Gwen hissed. "Look at this greasy skin! It's burnt! And this meat, it's dry! You think Allie will get hale enough to bear a baby if she's eating takeaway from Phat's on George St?"

"Can we not talk about babies?" Gunther grimaced, looking toward Alesia for help. When Alesia grinned, he disapprovingly raised both brows. "What do you know? You're a kid. Do you even have a boyfriend?"

"My Babulya's a doctor!" Gwen rudely waved her fork.

"So you keep saying." Gunther rolled his eyes.

"Bah!" Gwen turned aside with a huff. "Men! You can lead a Sleipnir to water, but you can't make it drink!"

"Gwen— leave the baby-making to Gunther and me." Alesia attempted to calm their youngest, who was both excited about the future and upset over the food. "So what's this big gift you keep hinting at?"

"I had other gifts prepared, but now that I know what you need..." Gwen walked to the end of the table, where the tabletop wasn't inundated by a dozen takeaway containers. "... BEHOLD!"

With a wave of her Storage Ring, she materialised a white-jade bottle of Maotai with a scarlet label.

"This is half-century-old Maotai, brewed by the masters of Guizhou from the rare Wildland Red Sorghum and kept sealed under the ley-line beneath the brewery for five decades. It was bottled before the Communists took China."

With another gesture, she materialised a sealed box radiating Enchantment.

"And is a half-millenium-old ginseng raised by Dragons." She opened the box. "Ta-da!"

"Kii—KII?" The Ginseng Sprite, again disturbed from its slumber, gazed up at Gwen with its faceless mien. As before, her Dragon-fear held it in place. Already, the Ginseng was missing most of its right limb, some of its left leg, and most of the tendrils. "Kii?"

"Don't worry bud." Gwen held the Ginseng down with one hand. With her other hand, she summoned a thin disk of Void, not dissimilar to the cutting edge of her Chakram. "You won't feel a thing."

"KII?!" The Sprite let loose a piercing shout. Its protest was fruitless, for Gwen soon snapped-shut the box and held within her hand a segment of its right-most extremity.

"Noisy little bugger."

"Jesus, Gwen." Alesia held a hand to her lips.

"I don't think you should be doing that." Gunther was equally aghast. "To my knowledge, certain groups of powerful Demi-humans may not find your usage... kosher."

"Not to worry," Gwen assured her siblings-in-craft. "It exists to be eaten, after all. The dude who grows these does it out of boredom. It walks and talks, but really, it's just a herbal supplement."

"That looks like a low-tier Spirit to me," Alesia pointed out. "A Draconic one at that."

"— and now!" Gwen ignored her siblings. "We apply some Essence to the herb in question."

Gunther and Alesia sat transfixed as a pool of viridescent Essence, unadulterated in its purity, collected on their sister-in-craft's palm.

"That's pure Druidic Essence." Alesia had seen Gwen feed her Familiars motes of the stuff, but had no idea Gwen could pump Essence outside her body like a liqueur from a bottle.

In her hand, the root from the Spirit Ginseng began to sprout little tendrils. Gwen exalted in the act, for here in Australia, Almudj's gift flowed far more accessibly than when she was elsewhere.

After absorbing the viridescent fluid in her palm, Gwen expertly unstoppered the bottle of half-century Maotai, then cupped the opening, forcing the struggling "herbal supplement" into the alcohol.

Instantly, a fragrant scent of alcohol combined with the bitter redolence unique to ginseng permeated the air.

At the final step, she re-stoppered the Maotai, gave the elixir a good shake, then presented the precious liquid with a winning smile.

"And there we have it. The panacea to all your ailments. Whatever injuries you have sustained in the past. Gone! Back pain? GONE. Work stress? NO MORE! Age lines. A thing of the past! Ailing libido—"

"Okay— okay." Gunther put up both hands in surrender. "Gwen, I know what I am looking at. Dare I ask how you got your hands on this, and how much it costs?"

"About four hundred HDMs for the bottle, which isn't terrible, considering a limited stock exists. The ginseng, comparatively, is priceless. I doubt there's more than a hundred of its ilk still cultivating in Huangshan. The gardener's a prude, or so I've heard. As for the Essence, that's all me— and Almudj."

"I see." Gunther eyed the bottle. "It certainly looks and smells potent. I can feel the vitality from here. Is it safe to imbibe?"

"I wouldn't drink more than a thimble a day," Gwen warned her siblings. "About a quarter of the bottle is enough for me to summon Caliban's Bird or Hydra form without needing to replenish. As for safety, my family in China can vouch for its potency. We've had it twice so far, everyone's doing well as a result."

"That's good to know." Alesia licked her lips.

"But that's not all!" Gwen made a second pass at the table. A whole stack of assorted goods materialised, some boxed, others bundles, yet more items were crystalised in Petra's cubes.

"This is from Fur-Peak, a tea that has absorbed the Essence of a Mythic-class Dragon. It likewise restores vitality and boosts vigour, but should be drunk slowly over a year."

"Here's some Dragon-carp meat from Gogo. He's been a good boy. Considering how virile he is, I suspect there's something in his favourite food. Did you know he knocked up a pheasant? They're not even the same species!"

"These are lamb-fat jadeite talismans. I've requested one for the each of you. It will ward away Negative Drain, protect you from evil, and bring good luck— or at least that's what my mate Ruxin says. As a five-century-year-old Thunder Dragon and the lord of Kachin, Nagaland and Manipur, I reckon he knows his jade."

"You still traffic with this Ruxin?"

"Of course, I am his financial advisor. Alesia's informed you I hope. Allie's mates with Ayxin, Ruxin's sister."

"Hold on." The Tower Master of Sydney wondered when his sister-in-craft would stop dropping one Fireball after another. "I know that you're involved with the Draconic Clans in China. I also know that your Uncle is 'involved' with one. Can you repeat the last part?"

"Sure. Alesia knows Ayxin. Ain't that why you guys got hitched?"

"No," Gunther said. "The one before that."

"My role as a financial advisor?"

"Yes, please explain?"

"What's there to explain? Dragon has crystals, and by supplying me with a commission-based salary, he now has more. It's win-win."

"And this Ruxin has invited you into his vault, has he?"

"Think of his treasure hoard as a bank." Gwen made a box with her hands. "I am working on multiplying the hoard rather than let it grow mould. In turn, I take a small cut for myself and use an otherwise static resource to benefit mankind. Currency is so named because it must flow, Gunther, you should know that. At any rate, this way, the more prosperous our cities become, the more crystal Ruxin accumulates both in his lair and on paper. Ergo, the humans leave the Dragon alone, and the Dragon sees the humans as beneficial."

"But a Dragon is a Dragon," Gunther pointed out. "To it, we're chattel."

"If Ruxin is any indication, Dragons are a decent sort, certainly no worse than the monsters in our midst. In my experience, they're creatures characterised by a love of land, crystals, and laziness. Satisfy all three, and a Draconic ally becomes a great boon."

Gunther and Alesia exchanged disbelieving glances.

"It's true." Gwen smiled. "For example, you know I've got some stake in Tonglv, correct? Soon, the old codgers are going to make a move on my cut of the action. Additionally, I won't be able to defend myself in their kangaroo court."

"I could pay them a visit," Alesia offered. "That'll sort them out."

"No need." Gwen smirked impishly. "I've arranged it so that Ruxin is now the principal benefactor of my portion of the Tonglv Fund. I've given him all my assets in China as collateral for his future financial support."

"So you're the advisor to Ruxin— and Ruxin is the custodian of your investments?"

"Bingo! Imagine what will happen when the Fund stops paying out to my accounts— which are now Ruxin's accounts. When the Thunder Dragon sees the pricks stealing from him, what will he do to those poor sods in their ivory tower? Ruxin's father is a Mythic Dragon, and Huangshan is only a hundred kilometres from Nantong. For a being that literally controls the weather over China's rice bowl, what would be the implications?"

"Strewth, Gwen." Alesia watched the goosebumps run up and down her arm.

"HA! What will the mighty Central Commission for Discipline Inspection think when news reaches them that a bunch of greedy bastards are taking China's largest city to the brink of starvation over a mere matter of a few hundred-thousand HDMs? Suffer in your jocks!"

Alesia turned her chin slowly to gaze at Gunther.
Gunther met his wife's eyes with a cocked brow.

"Are you really the Gwen we know?" Alesia placed a hand on her sister's forehead.

"I don't know whether Master would be terrified, pleased or both." Gunther exhaled. "Gods, Gwen, what a horrible scheme you've hatched. It's like a page out of the Grey Faction's manifesto."

Gwen allowed Alesia to squeeze her cheeks. Whether her sister was being proud or admonishing, she couldn't tell.

"Gunther, those crystals are rightfully mine," Gwen declared, her face pink thanks to Alesia. "I designed the Tonglv Fund from the ground up. I gave them the means! I trained those auditors and brought Professor Ma on board as well. The hours I poured into making the system work could have gone to my Spellcraft! If they wish to usurp my share, then they should be ready to pay the price. You said it yourself, didn't you? We have to be cruel to be kind."

"I think that was you..."

"Gwen." Alesia drew Gwen closer. "I think you're growing up a little too quick for my comfort."

Gunther, comparatively, appeared less worried and more so wary. "Gwen, tell me truthfully. Did Eric Walken instruct you to engage this ploy?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but the credit is all mine." Gwen met her brother-in-craft head-on. "I believe that this result is the culmination of opportunities I have cultivated in China— My father's family, the Dragons of Huangshan, Tonglv Canal, Professor Ma, the auditors, the Centurion Credit Program— and now, Legion Corp."

"Legion Corp?" Gunther and Alesia both raised their heads.

"YES! I was hoping you could give me a hand so that I can help Sydney help itself." Gwen's voice took on a peculiar and hypnotic cadence.

With a word, Gwen activated the Illusions she had practised for Ruxin. In front of her sister and brother-in-craft, a map of greater Sydney and its Green and Orange Zones materialised.

"What is that?" Alesia asked.

"THIS is the end goal of Legion Corp! Make no mistake, our motto is simple: _We're with you, and we're Legion_."

The next morning, Gwen awoke while her siblings slept next door.

For the first time in a long time, Gunther called in late for work. It couldn't be helped, for an all-night discussion of Sydney's future had taxed the man to exhaustion.

That and Gwen suspected from the Sound Ward on the second floor that the two may have too eagerly partaken her alchemical aids. As a long term imbiber of vitality-rich elixirs, she could only imagine what effects so much vigour could have had on two individuals in the prime of their lives. For sure, if Ayxin was confident in offsetting decades of Ash-usage, Gunther and Alesia should have no problems.

Gwen ate a can of heated SPAM with a spoon while her siblings napped, then wrote the two a note to say that she would Message from Surya's. With her Flight Licence and Gunther's gift of Glyphs, it wasn't difficult to cross the bay then take a taxi from the Ferry Terminal.

Once inside the Tower, two cadets respectably chauffeured her into the depth of the old Tower.

"Miss Song, please call us if you need anything." The guards bowed deeply.

Gwen returned their offer with a nod, after which the duo disappeared down the familiar levitation platform.

The room she once used still appeared as it always had been. In the past, she had come and gone from the Tower via this very Mandala, splitting her time between her Master's domain, Blackwattle High, and Surya's Estate. For a long while, she had thought that her quiet, routined life would continue until the end of high school, perhaps even the end of university.

But that part of her life was long gone.

Expertly, Gwen materialised an inscriptor in her dominant hand, carefully, she traced the outline of the Mandala. Now possessing the talent for Enchantment, the magical formulae no longer appeared mystical and unknowable. Within the circle, Gwen observed both the works of her Master and her Opa, each distinct in their execution of Weinberg's Parallel Conduit and Higgs' Parabolic Equaliser.

With her other hand, she materialised a dozen HDMs and slotted them into the dimples carved onto the floor. Power nodes, these were dubbed in the parlance of the Enchanters; designed to channel and consume the latent energies held within the mana crystals. For her present transit, however, the Tower's internal conduits would provide the necessary mana.

"Teleport!" Gwen spoke the final invocation.

With a stirring of dust, the Mandala activated, flaming with silvery Conjuration. In the middle, the Divination portion of the Mandala returned pure-white and vivified, verifying its linked-twin hundreds of kilometres away.

The room flashed.

Time and space lost all meaning.

Quicksilver Conjuration fell all about Gwen's body, swirling and swirling until the mana was spent.

Gwen opened her eyes.

She had arrived at her destination, and all around her was darkness.


For added insurance, Gwen conjured Caliban.

"Shaa?" Caliban scented the pitch-darkness, reporting nothing 'living' within her vicinity.

"Arcane Sight!" With her Familiar's assurance, she took a few precious seconds to activate her Divination.

Gwen's emerald irises glowed viridescent, dispelling the darkness. Not surprisingly, she was in a warehouse— one packed to the rafters with boxed and warded ingredients. Gwen recalled that the Mandala used to be in her Opa's workshop, though now it seemed that her grandfather's sanctum had been abandoned for some time.

With her enhanced vision turning the stacked boxes of materials phosphorescent, she stepped around the wards, then located the door. There, she found her exit locked with Transmutation and warded with offensive Abjuration. With her limited knowledge of Enchantment, dispelling the protection was impossible.

"OPA?" she called out. "HELLO?"

"Shaa—Shaa?"

"OPA? It's me, Gwen!"

Gwen checked her Message Device. Surya's Glyph was inoperative.

"OPA!!!"

Gwen hammered the ceiling after sensing no retaliatory Enchantments.

_THUMP!_

She recalled Gunther had said that there were NoMs living on her grandfather's property. Surely, someone would hear her and find her Opa.

"HELLO?" This time, she added Clarion Call.

"SHAA! SHAA!" Caliban aided its mistress as best as it could, rising on its tail to drum the roof with its tentacled tongue. “SHAAAAA!"

Surya Huang laid in his bed, watching a fly entrapped within the gossamer half-covering his bed.

Usually, the Enchanter possessed a carefree disposition. More and more frequently, however, Surya had found himself in what Tess dubbed "one of those geezer moods".

It wasn't that Surya wanted to be depressed. Sometimes, the deviation of his present circumstances from his hopes and dreams simply caught the veteran unaware. For a self-professed family man, few things were more demoralising than not having a family nearby.

After the Coral Sea War and after Agnes' rejection, Surya had settled down to build his Australian Dream. He had found himself a devoted young wife, engendered two lovely children, and thanks to his mate Henry, enjoyed both fame and fortune. The future of House Huang had looked bright, and the aspirations he nurtured for a grand estate crawling with dozens of grand and great-grandchildren seemed at hand.

Now, he slept alone in his enormous bedroom, thinking of two-dozen ways to fry a panicking blue-bottle while his once-manicured estate crawled with despondent NoMs.

Surya tried his best not to think of his children, but the memory of their sweet, smiling faces vying for their father's attention made him both nostalgic and upset. Kwan had always been ambitious, and Surya couldn't fault his son's appetite for wealth— for that had been the pie in the sky he had painted the boy in his youth. As for Helena, her marriage to Morye was the final straw that broke the camel's back.

And as for his grandchildren; he had seen Richard only a dozen times in his life. Percy, likewise, had always thought of Surya as senile codger. As for the one that was abducted, Surya sighed. When would he see his cute _cucu perempuan_ again?

"Mel?" Surya croaked.

No response came.

"Tess?"

His other Apprentice was away as well, likely working out yet another gripe for the NoMs.

"Hehe." Surya reached under the bed and produced a bottle of Bundaberg's finest overproof. Tess and Mel forbade him from drinking the strong stuff, but the girls were far too used to their Storage Rings to notice that the folds between the bed base and the mattress served as mundane storage.

Shimming up his fort of goose-down pillows, Surya groped for a glass in the gloom.

"Here's to you, my _cucu perempuan_ — stay safe."

In one swig, Surya knocked back the amber liquid, allowing the alcohol to suffuse his mind so that the bubbling bile of unhappiness could once again settle in its well. Soon, the sweet and sticky sugarcane rum suffused Surya's insides, warming up his stick-thin body.

"Opa?" echoed a muffled cry from below.

Surya squinted in the curtained light. Just in case, he turned the bottle over, making sure Tess hadn't replaced the damn thing with Cane Toad extract to teach him a lesson.

"Helloooooo?"

There it was again!
Surya broke out in a cold sweat.
How could Gwen be HERE of all places? Thousands of kilometres from China? If anything, shouldn't she be headed for London? And even if she was, why would she be in the walls? And if she was in the walls, why was she haunting him?

Gingerly, he sniffed the bottle, then swilled the liquid to check for impurities. Maybe Tess mixed in the toad-juice with the rum? That sneaky little witch needed to be spanked!

"SHAA!" came a spine-chilling shriek, this one straight out of Surya's fevered nightmares.

_THUMP!_ Something was striking the walls below.

_THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!_

Goddess! Surya felt his heart leap to his throat. Was this an indigenous spirit, come to punish him for building a house—

"Anyone home? I am going to Dimension Door out!"

Surya again tried to discern if the voice he was hearing was real or hallucinatory. He recalled something about the workshop beneath his bed, but the overproof rum was remarkably potent.

_VOOOMPH!_

A concentric ring of raw electricity ignited the air, materialising a feminine figure in a mini-dress. The room illuminated for a second, then without warning, his _cucu perempuan_ , the cutest, most beautiful granddaughter in human history, stood staring at him, her face a mask of horror.

"G-Gwen?!" Surya spluttered.

"SHAAA!" Besides the girl, her serpent, as black and phallic as the day it was born, screeched with delight, slithering onto the bed.

Gwen's eyes glowed with supernatural sight, her pupils capturing every detail in crystal clarity.

"Y-you're REALLY here?!" Surya spluttered.

A torrent of repressive, gut-churning, spine-wrenching terror radiated from the girl. Under that gaze, Surya felt his body transform into a boneless anemone.

"O-OPA! W-WHY-WHY are you NAKED?!"

"A man's home is his castle," Surya explained, nursing his old bones. Thanks to Gwen's Dragon Fear, he had fled his bed and dressed so fast he had sprained his back and shoulders. "I sleep naked because it's hot. It's a sauna this summer."

"You're an Enchanter!" Gwen glowered, rubbing her eyes. "There are cooling Glyphs in your room! On your bed! And also leather cuffs— why are cuffs—"

"A man's got needs—"

"You're SIXTY…"

"I am a servant of Eros," her Opa explained, pointing a thumb at one of his many erotic statues. This one appeared to be a poor woman kneeling over, submitting to two Calibans.

"Shaa?" Caliban appeared confused.

"Is that the only thing on your mind?" Gwen quickly retrieved her innocent serpent before it could be corrupted.

"Its art, and yes, I am very creative."

Gwen reformatted her long-term memory to hard-wipe the mental image of her grandfather reenacting "The Nude Maja", consigning her recall to Caliban's gullet.

"Okay, let's leave it at that." Slowly, her expression softened. Hesitantly, after checking her Opa's robes for stains, she opened her arms. "Now that you're decent. Come here, Opa."

"My _cucu perempuan_!"

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Gwen cradled the frail old man in her arms.
Two years ago, when she had last done the same, her Enchanter grandfather had felt larger than life. Now, her Opa appeared drained of all his vivacity. Even held against her bosom, the grinning old man barely reached her chin. Even his hands, one pressing the small of her back and the other gripping her arm, felt like bird claws.

"How's your health?" Gwen asked her grandfather. "Gunther tells me a lot has happened."

"Yes, indeed." Surya exhaled. "Too much…"

"Well." Gwen pulled up a chair. Outside and below the estate's elevated veranda, makeshift shelters stretched from east to west, falling away where Surya's boundary fence met the neighbours. "For once, I've got all the time in the world."

From Gwen's Singapore misadventure to her family in China, Burma, and elsewhere, Opa and _cucu perempuan_ exchanged stories of the past two years. When finally, the conversation fell to her deceased Master, her Opa fell silent.

For Surya, the fall of Sydney and the death of Henry Kilroy had come as a profound shock. Now, out of his original party, only he, Mark, Agnes and Elizabeth remained.

"To think Deathless Henry would leave this world before I took the long walk." Surya shook his head.

"Hold up." Gwen's brows knitted. "Chandler's not dead?"

"He escaped the Tower in the ensuing confusion." Surya breathed out. "Or so I've heard from Gunther. Your Brother-in-craft suspects that someone had to have aided Marc. It's a moot point, though. He's a Necromancer now, with a bounty on his head across all of the Mageocracy. What kind of life is that?"

"Did he escape into the Wildlands? Become a Rogue Necromancer?"

"It's possible. You didn't run into Marc in Shenyang, did you?"

"No." Gwen hesitated at the possibility that Chandler HAD escaped to Shenyang, and that one of the many faceless victims of her Shoggoth was a man responsible for her pain, shame and misery. "Not that I would know."

"A shame." Surya shook his head. "Although he was a companion, I would have preferred him deceased. With Henry gone, we need closure."

"Me too," Gwen concurred. Having experienced Necromantic magic firsthand, her desire to see their mass-murdering "Craft" scoured from the earth was no less constant than Gunther's or Alesia's. "How's Agnes and the ladies?"

"They're doing well." Surya grinned. "Agnes had the girls hide in the Black Cat when the city flooded. Thankfully, Surry Hills wasn't completely inundated by the Mermen tsunami. It's a hilly place, as the name suggests. She and the local militia managed to fight off the vanguards and establish a defensive cordon. For now, business is booming. She's expanded the business and the shelter. Some of the girls visit monthly to model for me."

"I didn't need to know that."

"It's nothing inappropriate. What's wrong with young ladies helping an old man find joy—"

"Please." Gwen handwaved her Opa into silence. "So, what do you think about Dad? Now that you know everything, I mean. The Song family, why he's in Australia, the works."

"I dearly wish my counterpart could beat the bastard black and blue every Tuesday," Surya growled. "Hiding his talent! Seducing my daughter and abandoning my _cucu perempuan!_ Leaving you to be abused by his new in-laws, then ploughing some hussy half his age and even having a son with her? There's no justice in the world, I tell you. If there is a God like the Christians say, that salty bastard would have eaten dirt during Sydney's siege."

"The communists are godless," Gwen reminded her Opa. "But I concur, Morye or Hai— he's a failure, much less a father."

"But his family seems a decent lot," Surya agreed whole-heartedly with Gwen's vitriol. "That Grandmother of yours seems like a decent sheila. And sweet Petra…"

"Won't be coming to Australia." Gwen almost regretted pointing out that the leggy Russian brunette in the IIUC footage was her cousin. "To change the subject, you haven't heard from my mother at all?"

"I'd imagine you would have heard from her," Surya returned guiltily. "I mean, she's in China and all, and so were you."

"We had a clean break." Gwen put together her hands; when she opened them again, a Vitae Fruit was resting on her palm. "I gave her back her youth. We're done."

"Ho!" Surya's brows arched with surprise. "Where did you find this?"

"I've collected this and more." Gwen smiled at her Opa. In her eyes, her grandfather looked far too old for a Magus of his station and skill. Considering individuals like Walken appeared perfectly youthful, no more than a dandy gentleman in his forties— why should her Opa look like something the cat dragged in? "Some wine, some tea, some herbal supplements, all of which will make you haler and younger."

"There's no need." Surya flexed his wiry-thin arms. "I've been like this for decades."

"The supplements I've brought are so potent that an Ash Mage with an affinity higher than tier 7 may be conceiving a half-dragon child as we speak," Gwen spoke as she laid out her gifts one by one. "I wonder what an artist such as yourself can do with such an infusion of life?"

"You desire another Uncle or Aunty?" Surya was incredulous. He took her fingers with an earnest look of disapproval. "I know Hai has neglected you, but I didn't think your problems were so serious—"

"Let me stop you right there," Gwen spluttered, slapping her Opa's wayward hand. "I mean your health! Don't be insulted Opa, but you look like hell. You look like a desiccated coconut!"

"I live in on a farm, looking after thousands of refugees! With no son, no daughter and no grandchildren!" Surya chuckled. "Why do I care about my looks?"

"You should because you're going to live a LONG TIME." Gwen pinched Surya on the thighs, making the old man yelp. "Ten, twenty, FIFTY years from now, you'll still be by my side, right? I need an Enchanter for my Tower."

"Your what?"

"My Tower."

"You're going to be a Tower Master?"

Gwen nodded. "I want to make life better for the people who helped me come all this way. If possible, I want to carve out a place for the NoMs as well, so they aren't just livestock for the Mageocracy."

Surya gawked at his little girl, now suddenly a giantess.

"Was this Henry's idea? The Noble Obligation thing?"

"It's Noblesse Oblige, and the idea was mine," Gwen said. "Master felt responsible for the NoMs— but to him, they're still just second class beings. I want to make their place in society worthwhile, at least economically."

"Really? And what are NoMs to you? From the position of the Mageocracy's future Omni-Mage, I mean."

Gwen pointed a finger toward the folk milling about below. There was now a makeshift community living on her Opa's estate. Considering the difficulty of relocation, Gunther had offered to gift Surya with a similar piece of land elsewhere.

"Opa, I am going to tell you something that I haven't told anyone yet. Not seriously, at least. Can I trust you to keep a secret?"

"Of course, if you can't trust Opa, who can you trust?"

Gwen smirked. "Okay, here I go—"

She took a deep breath.

"Opa, I feel that NoMs, our fellow human beings, possess within their multitudes a great and untapped potential. I am not speaking of NoMs who may one day Awaken as Mages, but NoMs with skills, talents, and gifts in their own right. Some may become great theorists of mathematics and physics. Others become traders, entrepreneurs, artists, poets, and writers. Within the untapped multitudes, we may very well uncover ideas and merits that will change humanity far more fundamentally. In my opinion, a million NoMs given proper training and education far exceed an Omni-Mage's greatest potential."

"Bloody oath." Surya sipped his rum, feeling flushed with warmth and vitality. "You're going to pull some whiskers. I'll tell you that. People will die."

"People die every day and everywhere as we speak. Nonetheless, that's what I believe in," Gwen continued. "Right now, we dig and dig and dig away at our Frontiers. Killing demi-humans, harvesting Wildland ingredients, mining for crystals. BUT what the humans don't realise is that the biggest bounty lies in themselves."

"The humans?" Surya snorted.

"Us, I mean."

"But resources are finite."

"And our planet is plenty." Gwen shrugged. "Opa, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that even if there are seven billion of us in this world, we would still be perfectly able to supply an excess of food, water and shelter to our species, dickheads notwithstanding. What's limiting us isn't Monsters or demi-humans— it's our irrational 'apartheid' for those who lost the genetic lottery."

"I don't know what to say," Surya confessed. "I am just an Enchanter. All I know is how to make Magical Items and sculptures. You must have met some great teachers in Fudan. Is this a part of their Communist Manifesto or something."

"Not really, but there are parallels." Gwen allowed the matter to drop. If her Opa believed that this was what she learned in China of all places, then so be it. "Now, on the matter of Enchantment— what do you think of my new talent? Can I carry on the House of Huang as you had envisioned?"

"Ah, yes." Surya rubbed his hands together, his face brightening at once. "NOW THAT'S WONDERFUL NEWS!"

Gwen remained at Surya's for three days, catching up with Mel and Tess, teaching them how to consume the Draconic-tea from Fur Peak and making sure that her grandfather wouldn't overindulge, causing his lower body to explode.

Concurrently, she spoke at length with Surya about her plans for the future. More explicitly, she had relayed the requirements she and Marong had discussed for Project Legion's fleet of Divination Stations.

To Surya, who had long lost the passion for the crafting of magical items and mandalas, the Legion Project appeared to ignite an old fire. That or Gwen suspected, her supplements had regenerated the gnarled synapses of her Opa's eros-addled brain.

According to the old Enchanter, Gwen and her partners would have to supply five critical components for her "Carrier Network" to manifest in reality.

First, they needed a steady supply of high-quality Creature Cores, ideally harvested from a plentiful, renewable source to ensure consistency. When Surya noted the impossibility of such a thing, Gwen immediately thought of Golos. If Ruxin or Gogo could arguably put some effort into subsuming Magical Creatures, then it was entirely possible to generate caches of middle to high-tier Cores consistently.

Secondly, "Legion Corp" needed to recruit a group of specialised Enchanters. These new-fangled Magitech-crafters must possess the capacity to engrave reactive Mandalas that interacted with the "datum" Gwen wished to traffic. Of greater difficulty was an even rarer breed of Enchanters who specialised in information algorithms and Crystal Cores. These individuals, Surya explained, originate from Palo Alto, a place dubbed the Crystal Valley— the birthplace of the Crystal Core commonly found in Data Slates and Lumen-Recorders. Upon hearing the name, Gwen blinked, thinking to herself that, OF COURSE, such a place existed.

Thirdly, Gwen needed to make contact with the manufacturing giants that made the Message Devices. Only by convincing the creators of these devices to use her private network could she arguably enact her plan. A caveat that would doubtless burden her goals was the fact that she was attempting to give NoMs the means to widely adopt Message Devices— a fact that may not sit well with manufacturers in Central Europe, Japan, and Korea. Gwen replied that those who do not innovate, stagnate; and that in time, the market would ensure her detractors fall in line. Her Opa shrugged. He wasn't an economist and could not comment.

Fourthly, as she intended to work with the Towers, a working relationship would have to be established with the Master of each region where her "Carrier Network" hoped to exist unmolested. There, she would have to deal with the unfortunate reality that Tower Masters followed Factions— and her benefiting the Grey Faction, for instance, may spoil her chances of planting Towers in another Faction's domain.

Fifth and lastly, the Legion Corporation needed to lease land. To start, Gunther and Marong had no complaints in supporting her hobby. Likewise, from Lima to Cuzco, Gwen was sure to receive a fair shake of the sauce bottle. In other locations and in dealing with less favourable individuals, however, the tithing and service paid to spiteful stakeholders may sink her profits entirely. Gwen's response to Surya's paranoia was that as with all business dealings, localities had to be dealt with on a geographic basis. She was well aware of the risks and would handle the rollout with the utmost care.

Of all of her Opa's advice, the ones she truly heeded were the ones on Enchantment. It would seem that her plans for the next five years now involved a trip down to "Crystal Valley". The reality of how specialised modern Magitech had become was no less arcane than the Renaissance of home computing in the early 2000s. For Gwen, to number herself among the likes of those groundbreaking, world-changing entrepreneurs was a daunting endeavour, offset only by her promise to Tao. Were the Jobs and Gates of this world Enchanters, or were they neglected NoMs awaiting discovery? Gwen shivered just thinking about the potential innovations she may yet make in Palo Alto.

And so it was, three days after her arrival at the tablelands, the Devourer of Shenyang kissed her well-rested Opa on the forehead, then once again said her farewells.

As for her next destination, it wasn't toward Sydney, but an encampment in the interior, a place where she had last met her kin.


More so than in her old world, the wide brown land was sparsely populated. It was a fact made apparent ten minutes Mage Flight from Pokolbin, for once the last vineyard ended, continuous leagues of stunted bush stretched monotonously from horizon to horizon.

"Ee!" Ariel performed a mid-air summersault. Against a limitless sky, her Kirin's appearance was so beautiful as to make Gwen's heart soar.

"Race me!" Gwen pointed in the general direction of Barrington Tops.

"Ee! EE!" Ariel performed and upside-down loop. "Eeeee!"

Leaving behind two rings of sizzling static, the two set off, twin meteors fulminating across a cloudless, cobalt sky.

As she edged toward top-speed, Gwen conjured a conical Shield to reduce the drag coefficient created by her blouse and jeans. The buffeting wind ceased at once, though she had a nasty vision that should she impact something; there was going to be a rather spectacular splatter.

"EE!" Ariel zoomed on ahead; its quasi-magical body unbound by laws of physics as its mortal Conjurer.

"Woohoo!" Gwen hooted, performing a corkscrew, paralleling a distant memory of Disney's Peter Pan. Ariel followed, slipping through the air like mercury.

"Ee! EE!" Her familiar warned her of impending danger.

In the distance, a few dots approached on a perpendicular course.

Gwen accelerated.

"SQWARK!" came the warning from afar. "SKARK!"

From where she hovered, Gwen could see that the intercepting creatures were sleek, missile-like birds with serpentine necks. With her Essence-focused eyes, she remarked that the avians possessed two pairs of wings. As the flock banked toward her and her Familiar, she spotted a distinct dash of black feathers running the length of the birds' forehead down to its spine, ending with long and elegant plumes the colour of obsidian.

"Bustards!" Gwen marvelled at her encounter. These were rare and precious birds, a real delicacy if Alesia were to be believed. In her old world, the Bustards were large and impressive avians. In this world of monsters, the aerial predator was the size of a Cessna.

"SQWARK!"
"Ee! EE!"
"SQWARK!"
"EE!"

Kirin and the bird engaged in a shouting match; from her Empathic Link, she recognised that they were in the bird's territory. It was one of the many reasons why air travel never took off— for Magical Monsters constantly waylaid the travellers.

"Tell it we're leaving." Gwen pointed their trajectory westward. "We'll take a detour."

"EE! EE-ee!"

"SQWARK!" the leading bird approached, rapidly increasing its velocity. At the very tip of its albatross-like frame, a keratin-sheathed beak protruded like a spear. Though the Bustard was only a tier 6 threat— for a Mage in-flight, Gwen imagined, its powers were well magnified.

"HMMPH!" With a grunt, she let loose a tendril of Dragon Fear.

"SQWARK!" Like Golos reacting to the Da-peng, the leading Bustard fell away, momentarily paralysed. The other two, shocked by their alpha's sudden retreat, followed their leader.

"EE!" Ariel mocked their challenger, swishing its tail to and fro.

Gwen chuckled, pleased by the peaceful resolution, wondering if Dragon Fear could be bottled.

Dusk.
Barrington Tops.

Gwen could not believe that despite following every direction and matching every landmark, she still got lost. Thankfully, at Mangrove Mountain, she ran across a party of very surprised Mages questing for ingredients, and it was they who walked her the two-hour-long trek to Lake Glenbawn.

"What business do you have with the savages, Miss?" The leader, a battler bloke, was a gruff Abjurer very keen on offering a hand to a perplexed sorceress descending from the blue.

"My business is my own," Gwen declined to comment, seeing that the party did not possess Storage Rings, she tossed the adventurers a crystalline credit stick for fifty HDMs. "This area isn't safe. I would leave as soon as you can."

"Yes, Ma'am!" The Abjurer checked the credit stick twice before pocketing the glowing crystal. He wasn't sure who the svelte sorceress could be, though the pressure she exerted indicated they should probably obey her command. "We'll head back. Your reward is already more than what we had expected to make on the trip, haha…"

"Goodman!" Gwen slapped the Abjurer on the back, sending the good-natured bigot sprawling against a tree. "Goodbye."

She blasted off, leaving the confounded Mages well-impressed.

Below, with the landmark in sight, she discovered Tommy's tribe's encampment at the lake's edge. With the setting sun painting the surface a dusky salmon, she skimmed across the mirror-like water until she caught sight of a familiar figure standing by the shore.

"Goolagong?!" Gwen landed with an unexpected splat, flinching as the muddy silt rode up her ankles to splatter her pants. There had been a drought, and from the looks of it, the once-enormous lake had receded significantly.

"Migloo girl!" the indigenous witch-woman, looking every inch an earthen fertility goddess, waved back with complete familiarity. In the dying light, Gwen could see that the wide-hipped matron was naked to the waist, her skin alive with mystic markings. "You're late!"

"I got lost." Gwen's cheeks took on a smidgen of heat. "How did you know I was coming?"

"This Spirit Walker may be old, but she still Dreams!" the old woman cackled, revealing rows of teeth the colour of corn. "Come! Have you eaten?"

At the invitation, Gwen's stomach growled. "I could eat."

"Then eat." Goolagong motioned for her to follow. "You are much changed, child. What happened to the clueless Migloo who came to visit Almudj many moons ago? You smell different, mixed."

"It's a long story." Gwen scanned the bank for signs of Goolagong's people. Against all expectation, there were no more than a dozen of the indigenous folk where there had been hundreds. "Where are the rest of the tribe?"

"Here and there." Old Goolagong cackled. "They've gone to Uluru to ask for the rain. The earth is red and dry! The lake, do you not see? It clings to you!"

Gwen looked down at the mud slathered over her ankle-jeans.

"You didn't go with them?"

"O— you give me eye?" Goolagong puckered her lips. "Maybe through the Migloo girl, old Goolagong save herself the Long Walk! Yes? It's not easy, the pilgrimage to Sing the Snake. I am no longer a young _koman._ No, Goolagong cannot walk the desert anymore. Here I will stay, maybe the rain comes, or maybe I go find the _aak oncham_."

The duo arrived at Goolagong's humpy, a sorry-looking thatched hut about half of Gwen's height.

"Rest! I bring you tucker."

"If you're short on food and water—"

"Nonsense! You are Almudj's kin! Sit and wait, girl. I will return."

With old Goolagong sauntering away, Gwen sat cross-legged on the thatched floor, looking at the dried-up lake. Her mind wandered as she folded her legs into the lotus pose. Reflexively, she circulated her mana, allowing the flow of Essence to seep into her conduits, inviting the mana of the world to suffuse her Astral body.

First came the scent of fecund clay, rich with decomposition and full of worms squirming through its depth. Then came the sound of eucalyptus swaying with the wind, its dry bark falling in sheets. On the wind was the smell of distant fire, and on the gothic trees, Scarlet Galahs burst into torch-song.

Within her mind's eye, her Astral Body glowed viridescent. It had been some time since she had so easily accessed such a clarified vision. As before, her dancer's figure held within its form both Lightning and Void, igniting and extinguishing, eternally in flux. Also mingled were scintillating motes of emerald, which she recognised as Almudj's gift, and the cobalt of the Yinglong's Draconic-Essence, half-married to her Lightning.

Compared to the extraordinary purity of Alesia's soul fire, her Astral Form was a chaos of colour.

_CLAP!_

Gwen opened her eyes.

"Migloo girl!" old Goolagong was holding a big basket of bush tucker. "Don't go off just yet! To Sing the Snake, not showing the proper respect is _ngench-thayan_! You may never return from the _tjukurpa katutja ngarantja!_ "

"Sorry." Gwen cleared her mind. Last time, she had to dance to circulate her Essence into her Astral Body. Now, with so much practice, it was as easy as a catnap. "What's this _tjukurp— rantja?"_

"Difficult to say." Old Goolagong squinted. "In Migloo words, impossible to know. _Tjukurpa katutja ngarantja_ is a place, but not a place. It is free from time, free from land! An unformed country where the old ones sleep!"

"The Unformed—" Gwen blinked. She could swear that someone somewhere had mentioned the word before. "The Unformed Land. What is it exactly?"

"Where the Dreaming happens, naturally." Goolagong's grin was expansive. "It is the season before there are seasons, the rain before water!"

"Is it a Plane of Existence? Like the Prime Material?"

"Old Goolagong does not know your Migloo Magic words." The indigenous woman shrugged. " _Tjukurpa katutja ngarantja_ is where Almudj sings the world into being, its mountains and streams, its wet and dry places. It is where the cheeky one dreams of rain."

Seeing that a non-cryptic response wasn't likely forthcoming, Gwen allowed the matter to drop.

"You have too many questions, Migloo girl," old Goolagong chortled. "Now, eat this, and take off your clothes."

"Again?" Gwen was just about to reach into the basket when she paused. "But I almost succeeded just then."

"Girl." Goolagong retrieved a blood-red quandong, crushing it between her palms. "We need to anoint you with the proper scent so that you can greet the cheeky one proper! Else Almudj may think you a usurper and gobble you up!"

Gwen wanted to contest Goolagong's claim that Almudj would respond to her poorly but knew next to nothing about the rites of her people. If the old witchdoctor said that she needed to be in the nuddy, who was Gwen to say no? Besides, other than a woven skirt, Goolagong herself was very much leading by example.

"Fine, fine." Gwen stood. She took a deep breath, then pulled her shirt over her head. A few pairs of eyes drifted her way; one of the men turned away, heaving heavily.

"Ah, Migloo girl, you are paler than a Witchetty grub!"

Ignoring the running commentary, Gwen kicked off her jeans, then stepped out of her socks and runners.

"Enough?" she asked.

Goolagong rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright." Gwen unbuckled her bra, leaving her wearing nothing but a pair of cotton knickers. "We good?"

"Get down, Migloo girl. Are you putting on a show?" Goolagong realigned several baskets of berries and fruits, most of which she did not recognise. Gwen recognised the ochre paste used for painting, as well as the crushed white powder which was ground bone. "Sit and eat. Goolagong will get you prettied up to meet Almudj."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"You don't need to beg favours this time?" Gwen asked just in case. "To be fair, I can probably take five Wankas at once."

"No need." Goolagong handed her a bushel of riberries. From the bush, she picked a few, mashed the aromatic, scarlet flesh with the quandong skin, then began to paint Gwen's back. "You come to see Almudj, and Almudj comes to see you. Don't move too much. Sit up straight. Almudj does not like this strange stench you have on you."

Discretely, Gwen sniffed her armpit, smelling nothing.

"What's this?" Gwen held up something that looked like a dark orb.

"Bush Bread," Goolagong said, now working on her shoulders. "Eat it with the berries."

The slow meal of mysterious ingredients took the better part of an hour, a period through which Gwen sat red-faced, watching the indigenous sorceress dab every inch of her lithe body.

Old Goolagong removed the band holding together Gwen's ponytail, then ran her voluminous tresses through the oil from the lemon myrtle.

"Better." The woman sniffed her neck. "But it is still there."

"Migloo girl?" Goolagong paused, her tone troubled.

"What's wrong?" Gwen felt a shiver.

"Where is Almudj's gift? You used to wear it on your neck."

Gwen blinked. She had not seen Almudj's scale since the incident at Rosebay. After gifting it to Henry and Sufina, it had disappeared.

Had it been spent and destroyed?
Was it lost in the fabric of space and time?
Did Sobel take it?
Her memory in the chaos was hardly reliable. Being half-eaten by Faceless, then becoming a vessel for Almudj was rather more poignant.

If the scale had remained active or connected to her in any way, Gwen was sure that she should have felt its presence. That she had not sensed the slightest smidgen of its existence, spoke sternly of her loss.

"I-I lost it."

"Oh, dear." Old Goolagong wagged a finger. "Migloo girl, Almudj is not so forgiving. It does not gift easily."

"Regardless, I don't know where it is." Gwen's voice took on a defensive tone. "I am not joking when I say there's an apocalyptic rationale behind its misplacement."

Goolagong finished by slapping a palm print onto Gwen's modest breast. "Other side!"

Gwen turned her body.

"I cannot help." Goolagong puffed, fatigued by her work. "You can beg Almudj for another, perhaps. While you're at it, you should ask Almudj for a bigger bum! Good for babies!"

Gwen winced each time Goolagong struck her buttocks and thighs, hoping the woman wasn't using the anointment as an excuse to spank her for losing Almudj's scale.

As a final touch, Goolagong adorned Gwen's cheeks with parallel white lines.

"Good!" Old Goolagong inspected her work. "I've done my part. When you are ready, come with me into the Spirit Circle. I feel that Almudj is keen to meet its kin."

The "Spirit Circle" was only a small distance away. This time, instead of a dance circle, Gwen sat in a ring of stones. Curiously, she noted that each pebble was a different hue that together, formed a rainbow circumference.

Swinging her arms, she danced an awkward jig, feeling her blood burn with embarrassment.

Goolagong snorted.

"No dancing today, not enough singers." The woman intimated for her to sit however she liked. From the basket, the woman produced a pair of clapping sticks, then cleared her throat.

"Meditate while I Sing, Migloo girl. Don't forget to ask for rain, and your scale!"

Without waiting for an answer, old Goolagong began her chant.

To interpret the Spirit Walker's "singing" was impossible, for the hums and whistles of the prehistoric dialect was beyond Gwen and her Ioun Stone. The melody itself was bone-deep, punctuated by the clarion clacks of the ironwood sticks. As the song droned on, thanks to a tummy full of fermenting native berries, Gwen grew sleepy as the staccato intervals drew longer and longer. Her lids grew heavy, and her consciousness gradually evaporated with the sweat streaming from her painted body.

Gwen opened her eyes, wondering if she was in another flashback. Last time, she had dreamt of old Tjupurrula and Kalinda, Almudj's "Kin" from another time. Would their story continue? Did Kalinda survive, or more particularly, did the colonists defeat or were annihilated by Almudj?

"Hello?" she implored a limitless horizon.

This time, she was standing in a dreamscape, ankle-deep in a vast stretch of water refracting a lilac-pink sky. Shockingly, she realised she recognised the place. In her old world, she had paid good money to visit its shores in the wet season. She was in Kati Thanda— Lake Eyre. A place that alternatively represented the single largest concentration of life in Australia's vast interior, and during the dry season, a vast plain of salt and death.

"Almudj?"

She was alone, that much was obvious. When Gwen looked down, she saw her topless reflection, still vivid with ochre and bone, staring back at her surprised face. This time, she wasn't borrowing the memory of Kalinda. This time, she was herself.

_Kin!_ A burst of rainbow erupted across the surface of her thoughts, reminding Gwen of the Skittles jingle.

The surface of the lake stirred, a meniscus of water expanded to accommodate an enormous head the size of a small island. Concentric ripples rang out, distorting the mirror-like lake as streaming white waterfalls cascaded from serpent's brows.

"Almudj!" Gwen squealed with childish glee, though she wasn't sure how one might hug a full-blown geographic feature. "How have you been? Have you recovered from your injuries?"

Almudj was at once distant and yet close. If she reached out, Gwen felt, she might just bop its snout.

"I've missed you." Gwen presented her Essence, allowing the emerald elixir to pool between her outstretched hands.

Gingerly, a rope-like tongue flickered from the snake's smiling snout. It tasted the air, then just as quickly as it had emerged, retreated into the mountainous maw. When Gwen looked down, the Essence-dew was gone.

"Kin?" Gwen opened her arms, anticipating recognition.

The serpent did not answer. Instead, it continued to rise until it filled the horizon.

"Almudj?" Gwen gulped. "It's me—"

_Invader!_ Came another unbidden thought, this one bitter with the eye-watering smoke of bushfires. As a psychic rebuke, the serpent's will lashed at Gwen, sending her tumbling into the water.

Kalinda's words from long ago echoed within the recess of her mind.
Almudj did not like strangers.
Almudj will attack strangers!

"NO!" Gwen cried out, pointing to the earthen powder and berry juices covering her body. From her hair, she rung fistfuls of oily lemon myrtle. "It's me! I am Kin!"

But Almudj would not listen.
When it opened its mouth again, Gwen stared upward at a solar eclipse. Then, without heeding her shrieking voice, it descended.

"STOP!" Gwen frantically called upon her magic. She screamed out her best Evocation, howled her Abjuration, begged the world for her Conjuration to activate— but here in the Unformed Land, no mortal invocation could help a tainted Migloo girl. "ALMUDJ! NO!"

"Almudj alive!" Gwen bolted upright, a female Frankenstein's monster, gasping for air.

"Migloo girl, are you alright?" Besides her, Old Goolagong's soothing voice never sounded so sweet.

Very carefully, Gwen propped herself onto her elbows.

"Ergh—" She winced. Every part of her body throbbed. She felt as though she had run an eight-hour marathon without rest, and now it was the morning after she had forgotten to stretch. "My bones are swollen."

"Here, some water." Goolagong placed a cup of water beside her lips.

Gwen drained the contents in one gulp. "Holy hell, Goolagong, I think Almudj's upset at me!"

"Ah— cheeky Migloo girl! I saw you in the dream! Our Almudj says you have been unfaithful!" Goolagong tsk-tsked. "I could smell it on your blood, in your bones. Who have you been sleeping with?"

"No one?" Gwen replied, earnestly. She wasn't about to proclaim her virginity. "I am serious."

"Are you sure?" Goolagong poked Gwen's belly, or more precisely, the whereabouts of her womb.

"Yes!" Gwen blushed, acutely aware of her present state of undress.

"Almudj does not like it when others spoil its seed." Goolagong chuckled. "How do you feel now? Has Almudj claimed you again?"

"What do you mean?" Gwen checked to ensure all her limbs were still in place. Her bodily markings had by now half dissolved from the sweat pouring from every pore, mixing into a kind of abstract art. She felt icky beyond belief. "I— allow me to check."

Warily, she circulated her Essence.
Thankfully, Almudj had not withdrawn its blessing.

Acutely, she smelled the sweet rot of the sunken mud, felt every pin-prick of the mat under her buttocks and saw every speck of milled pigment on Goolagong's painted face. When she kindled the Essence in her torso, all fatigue fell away. Where she could barely move a moment ago, now her bruised flesh sang songs of joy.

Her Almudj's blessing— or what Magister Wen mistook as Druidic Essence, had multiplied by magnitudes.

But nothing was ever that simple.

"Oh, no. Almudj, you didn't!" Gwen's blood grew suddenly cold.

Drawing on the reflexive breathing techniques Ayxin had taught her, she focused her mind, called upon the underlying currents of power in her Astral Body, then released a torrent of Dragon Fear.

Nothing.
Not even a fart.

"HRRRGGHN!"

Not a mote of the Yinglong's Essence remained.

Almudj giveth, and Almudj taketh.

Feeling a blind panic coming on, Gwen forced herself to stand.

"Don't rush, Migloo girl!"

"Shit—SHIT! ARIEL!" Gwen tapped into her Conjuration Sigil, flooding her body with motes of Lightning.

"EE!" Her pseudo-Kirin materialised in a flash, regarded its panicked master quizzically, then muzzled her thighs.

"Wa-hoo! This is one cheeky dingo!" Goolagong marvelled.

"Stag horns… scales, claws, hoof, mane— thank fuck…" Gwen hurriedly recounted Ariel's features, relaxing when her Familiar remained untouched by her patron's confiscation.

"Caliban!"

"Shaa!" Caliban coiled about her legs.

" _Koonhang AKAN!_ " old Goolagong jumped back, almost matching Wanka in its hasted form. "Back! Bad Spirit! Ooo this one proper cheeky! Very dangerous!"

As expected, Caliban remained altered.

"Shaa?" Caliban cocked its head.

"Cali, return! Ariel! Combat Form!" Gwen pushed her new-found Essence into her Kirin.

Spontaneously, Ariel grew iridescent, crackling with multi-coloured lightning. Its stag horns distended, branching until it formed a dozen points, while its body assumed the height of a horse. Where the Ariel from before was magnificent, it now radiated the ambience of something ancient and otherworldly. Each of its draconic features appeared subdued, and yet magnified, while distinctly, its scale-patterned fur now possessed a splendiferous, rainbow hue.

"EE?!" Ariel as well was surprised at its new chromatic characteristics. "EE?"

"What are you doing? Migloo girl?" Impressed as she was by Ariel, old Goolagong was keeping well away.

Gwen looked toward the lake.

"Migloo girl?"

"Ariel! _Barbanginy!"_

Her Kirin's horns glowed incandescent.

"EE—EE!" A line of lighting shot from between Ariel's horns, cracking across the half-dried lake until her Elemental Sphere manifested. Where her previous Barbanginy had doubled or tripled the maximised power of her magic, what it now achieved was nothing short of mass destruction.

The horizon lit up with a second sun, igniting the lake with an incredible display of azure, emerald and lilac.

_KA—CRACK!_

A crash of fulminating thunder raced the all-enveloping light. An explosion followed, rapidly displaced the lake's interior. Against the sloshing undulation, the Elemental Sphere's second-stage nova erupted, ranging some hundred meters from the epicentre.

And after the thunder, came the downpour.
Gwen suspected that had midnight been swapped for noon, a rainbow would have appeared.

The deluge lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to drench Gwen, Goolagong, her people, and a yipping Ariel.

"You are loved by many old ones." Goolagong wiped the water from her face. "But you are too cheeky by far."

"But…" Gwen wanted to protest that she had quintessential uses for her Draconic-Essences. Since consuming those creatures in Huangshan, she had fostered her control over her Dragon-juice, making it a crucial part of her growth in Spellcraft. Now, without Dragon-fear, without her Draconic-centric physical abilities, she felt weak.

A part of her fumed. Even if Almudj was the jealous type, did it have to take away something she had spent so long nurturing? Couldn't she just pledge her fidelity? The serpent never said their kinship was monogamous, did it?

But then again, Gwen recalled that the Yinglong did take a crack at her soul and that Almudj had sent it packing. Perhaps, unbeknownst to her, the powers she so dearly desired was merely the root of a bigger problem. After all, Almudj's Essence, not the Yinglong's, was the reason her body survived first the Soul Flayer, and then the Lich. She had to be thankful for that.

Gwen forced her balled fists to relax.
_Spilt-milk,_ she told herself. _Don't cry. It's stupid to wish to have your cake and eat it._

Like a greedy-gut spoilt brat, she had come seeking Almudj— partly to thank it for its unconditional aid, and partially also in the secret hope that her serpentine kin had more to give. As for the outcome, it may be a bitter pill for now, but who knew what new boons Almudj's blessing held? She would have to plumb its depth once she got to London. If Wen's research was any indication, she should find herself a handsome Elrond and beg for tuition.

"Can I talk to Almudj again?"

Old Goolagong shook her head.

"Did you ask Almudj about the scale?"

"Bugger—" Gwen slapped her forehead. "It all happened so quick. I didn't even ask about the rain!"

"No matter." Goolagong patted Gwen's muddy shoulders. "One day, when you recover the scale. Come and see old Goolagong. You and I, we go see Almudj in the flesh! You know where Almudj rests?"

"Yes," Gwen recalled the lake.

"Good. Do not worry about your lost endowment, girl. When the rain again comes to the great lake, we shall go and petition the old snake. This time, you bring the cheeky one's memento! Remember, Almudj will attack intruders!"

"I know. But what will you do now? The dry season has just started—"

"We survive, as always. Wet, dry, hot, cold, we have ways you Migloos cannot know."

"Sorry…"

"Not to worry." Goolagong sat back on the mat. It squelched unpleasantly.

"Sorry again." Gwen winced, her buttocks cold against the mud. "Its the Lightning. I get impulsive, especially when something unexpected happens. If I had lost both Almudj' blessing and my Draconic Essence..."

"Where will you go now?" Old Goolagong cocked her head. "To find scale?"

"I'd love to, but haven't the faintest idea where to begin." Gwen sighed. "I need to get to London to perfect my Migloo Magic."

"Can you return?"

"I will, in a year, two at most. I've got other continents to go as well."

"Ah, beware when you once again meet others like our cheeky one." Old Goolagong slapped Gwen's knees. "There is no cheating Almudj! The bearded snake is proper wise! Just look at me! An old wanchinth kath should have known better than to cheat the Long Walk, eh? The snake is cleverer than you or I!"

"I may need to work with the... others," Gwen confessed. "What if I take in more of their Essence?"

"Then recover Almudj's gift!" Old Goolagong huffed, growing upset. She waved her slapping hand dangerously, hovering over Gwen's buttocks. "Are you so eager to swallow the seed of other serpents? You're too indulgent, girl! How greedy must a Migloo be?"

Goolagong's unfortunate phrasing took the words right out of Gwen's petulant mouth. Abstractly, however, Gwen understood that trafficking in rival Essences was, as Goolagong's analogical cuckoldry inferred, in bad faith. "Look— fine, I get it."

To distract herself, she fossicked through her inventory for something to reward old Goolagong. All of her "supplements" where ill-gotten gains from Huangshan, which she was sure would just piss off Almudj more. Likewise, gifting bottles of high-proof alcohol to the indigenous wasn't something she dared contemplate.

"Would you like a Storage Device?" Gwen materialised a deactivated, medium-tier Storage Ring, one of the few she had purchased via Marong. "Trust me. It'll make keeping food much easier."

Goolagong shook her head. "No, no, no. That is an expensive thing! Old Goolagong knows. Sure, it brings convenience for now, but what if we run into your folk? Trouble is what it brings. Greed! Jealousy! Death!"

"How about Spam?" Unconvinced, Gwen materialised a few cans. "I've got… a lot. In different flavours too. You can eat it out of the can, mash it, pop it in a stew—"

"No need!" Goolagong pointed to the shore, where the members of her tribe that had remained now milled about, knee-deep in mud. Every few steps, they would drag out a large fish, whether stunned or electrocuted by Gwen panicked Barbanginy. "See? Almudj— the bearded one has not forsaken old Goolagong! Go to this London, Migloo girl— _but return with Almudj's scale_!"


"You want to go and see Sufina?" Gunther's knitted brows implied to Gwen that her request may not go over as well as she had hoped. "The island's a Black Zone, and its under Singapore's jurisdiction, not ours. Besides, who are you going to take with you?"

"Er…" Gwen stopped herself before blurting out that she would be visiting with Ariel and Caliban, maybe Golos. Instead, she weaponised her long lashes and vivid eyes. "I don't suppose either of you has the time to spare?"

Gunther sighed, not exactly exasperated, but assuredly not a happy-chappie.

"Alesia?" The Tower Master turned to his wife. "What's your take?"

Alesia sat on the sofa. Often, when the conversation steered to the deceased Henry, the sorceress grew absent-minded. "To Master's sanctuary?"

"Now Sufina's lair," Gunther corrected his wife. "For all intentions, it's a Dungeon. Escaping from the maze without killing its owner is improbable."

"I suppose it has been almost two years," Alesia agreed. "I wonder. Does Sufi retain her humanity still? She'll remember us, I am sure, but I don't think she'll be amicable. She'll be a living tomb-guardian by now."

Gunther drummed his fingers against the table, then turned to Gwen. "I can't let you go — not this time. We can't contact Sufina, and we can't accompany you. I could arguably call on Jonas and the boys, but they've got important missions elsewhere, supporting your friend Yue. We're short-handed as it is."

"Gunther, you're the Tower Master, surely…"

"I can put out a Quest, and we can pay with CCs, but who can we trust to enter Master's home? We can't Geas mercenaries, at least not legally. Besides, I refuse to allow a stranger to enter a place so intimate to our past. Not to mention you're there to dig for secrets. What if Sufina isn't friendly? What if she refuses to let you enter? Are you going to Consume the island? Consume Sufina or her Kin?"

"I don't think it'll come to that."

"There's no reason why it won't." Alesia played tag-team with Gunther. "It's a BLACK ZONE, Gwen. The creatures there are completely hostile, especially to women, for which they have no use. I mean, for a man, things could be worse, you get the idea. Either way, there will be no mercy. Dryads will fight to the death to defend their Grove, and you're more or less unstoppable in a jungle setting. Will you nibble away until they cough up the island's secrets? Threaten Sufi by eating her sisters one by one?"

"Bloody oath, Alesia," Gwen retorted, her tone growing tense. "Alright— what would you do?"

"Gunther?"

"If we were to force a meeting with Sufina in the future, it should involve a surgical intrusion into the island's centre. Pending on Sufina's response, we'll decide, as siblings, what to do." Gunther declared. "I should also mention that at some point in the next few years, I would like to recover our Master's remains. His mausoleum is still empty as we speak. I would prefer his remains safely interred and warded."

"You don't mind hurting Sufi?" Gwen's lips grew stiff.

"Now you're acting churlish. Don't put words in my mouth." Gunther's measured tone matched his command for Gwen to calm her farm. "I said we'll decide as siblings. TOGETHER. If leaving Master's body with Sufina is the final recourse, then that's what we'll do. If Sufina has gone completely off her rocks, then she's a danger and a monster. And we'll do what needs to be done."

"But Master's books—"

"May, or may not be in the Grot," Gunther reiterated. "Where did you get the idea that our Master would stow his tomes with Sufina? Master understood more than anyone that once his mutilated body waned, Sufina would be too powerful for other Mages to inherit. Keeping decades of research embedded within Sufi's abode is rather short-sighted, don't you think? How is any of us going to access them?"

"But—" Gwen's face grew scarlet.

Gunther cooly refilled his glass of water to the exact millimetre.

"And this 'Almudj's Scale'." Gunther sipped the ice-cold water. "Why did you visit a Mythic without informing Alesia or myself?"

"Does she need to?" Alesia called out from the couch. "Gwen's an adult."

"Her attraction to trouble notwithstanding, there are three million souls in Sydney and its regions." Gunther remained unfazed by Alesia's protest. "Allie, I am speaking in my capacity as Sydney's caretaker. Not as Gwen's brother. I am berating a Class VI War Mage; now more than ever, as AN ADULT, she is liable for her selfish decisions. Master would agree. Do you?"

"Fine, but get off your high horse," Alesia pushed back. "Gwen knows what's up."

"Does she?" Gunther's scorching gaze descended on Gwen's skin like the scorching sun. "Gwen— where is your Draconic-strength? Your Dragon-fear? Your Draconic-resistances?"

"Brother's right." Gwen deflated, wilting in her seat. Self-consciously, she gripped the hem of her dress. "I should have consulted with you both. I was following a gut feeling. I didn't know Almudj was the jealous type."

"Creatures that exist outside of mortality and time do not suffer human emotions," Gunther refuted her oversimplification. "But be your patron a Snake, Dragon or Land God, they're unequivocally possessive. Alesia's Elemental, if you recall, had refused to relent her body. As far as the Efretti was concerned, a Plane-touched body, once touched, was effectively a part of its being. Imagine being asked to—"

"It's not that complicated," Alesia interjected. "Gwen, imagine if a London Magister demanded you hand over Ariel."

"Stealing a Spirit? Is that possible?" Her complexion paled.

"Only if you are near-death or recently dead, and the Spirit is willing, AND there's a compatible Mage immediately available," Alesia explained. "But that's not the point, what would you do if someone tried to usurp Ariel. Try to imagine it, Gwen, put some gut feeling into it, be honest."

Sometimes, Gwen hated her overactive imagination.

"I'd Consume the fucker, wipe the bastard from the Material Plane," she confessed. "Is that bad?"

Alesia grinned. "I'd do worse, but that's the feeling. That's what Almudj should be feeling, assuming it has feelings."

"I am Almudj's Familiar?"

"An interesting analogy." Gunther appeared contemplative.

"Look, I get it." Gwen shivered, her arms and thighs covered in goosebumps. "I can see why Almudj was pissed."

"And thankfully, not interested enough to visit Sydney." Gunther pointed to the Illusion-empowered map of Sydney hovering in his office. "All things considered, the serpent is a well-mannered Mythic. I plan to leave it alone, where did you say it made its abode for now?"

"Lake Eyre."

"Good, I'll inform Adelaide to keep a wide berth. Are you able to communicate with it?"

"Not until I get my scale back." Gwen returned to her original request. "I last left with Master, if you recall."

"I wasn't there," Gunther replied glumly.

"I remember," Alesia said. "But then what happened?"

"I don't know." Gwen tugged at her skirt, crumpling the fabric. "I didn't see it after the battle. When I visited Sufina two years ago, I couldn't sense it either."

"Then where else could it be?"

"It has to be in the Grot," Gwen replied. "Unless Sobel took it."

"Hell's bells, I hope not." Gunther grimaced.

"I'll second that." Alesia raised a glass of Fur-Peak green tea. Since Gwen's return as a self-professed authority on pregnancies, she had been taking daily supplements.

The three sat in silence, each aghast at the worst-case scenario.

Ding!

"Lord Shultz," the broadcaster on Gunther's desk chimed. "Your next-next appointment is also here and waiting."

"Tell em to fuck off," Alesia shouted at the crystal on the table.

"Sir?"

"Tell them to wait," Gunther interceded. Turning to the women, the Tower Master of Sydney stretched his broad shoulders. "We're out of time, but here's my proposal. For now, go to London, and start your studies. I'll arrange for a recess before Michaelmas next year. If you remain convinced the scale is in the Grot and that Master hid his tomes with Sufina— then we'll visit her together. As your seniors, it is our pleasure and duty to accommodate your needs. Is that agreeable? Before you reply, I hope you understand that me being away from Sydney for a week is no mean feat. The city's ongoing restoration— including your proposals for both the new Port Authority as well as Legion, cannot be left to their own devices."

"I understand." Gwen bowed her head. "Thank you, Gunther. Sorry I was rude."

"Not at all, I do like it that you spoke your mind, Gwen. Your brother is not so thin-skinned as to be offended by a little sister."

Gwen grinned. "Thanks, Gunther."

"Good." Gunther stood to show them the door. "Now, both of you need to be on your way."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"When are you leaving?" Alesia gave Gwen a much-needed embrace outside Gunther's door. "Yue's going to miss you. Again."

"I know." Gwen sighed. "But we can visit one another now. It won't be like before."

"True." Alesia separated from her not so little sister. "For you, at least. I don't think Yue has a few thousand HDMs to spare. So?"

"After that meeting? Day after tomorrow," Gwen declared. "I hope to be in London before Christmas."

"Oh-ho!" Alesia appeared to have read her mind. "A white Christmas with Elvia?"

"That goes without saying." Gwen's smirk was positively predatory. "I'll be her present, and she'll be mine."

"Not to disperse your Cloud Kill, but it's only verified that Elvia's cohort will be in London," Alesia warned her sister. "As for Evee herself, she could be on a mission or working overtime in an away hospital. If she's religious, maybe secluded meditation? Nightingale Acolytes are a busy lot."

"That would be terrible." Gwen controlled herself, taking deep, lungful breaths. "But I'll track her down. First thing I am applying for in London is an Unlimited Flight licence."

"And how are you going to achieve that?" Alesia cocked her head.

"CCs make the world go round. I checked. It's seven hundred fifty for Limited and fifteen hundred for Unlimited." Gwen laughed haughtily. "I've got my references all lined up as well. One from Walken, one from Gunther, and one from Lady Grey, I hope."

"Gunther agreed?"

Gwen chuckled. "Would Gunther rather deal with Scotland Yard when they arrest an unlicenced Omni-Mage blasting across London's airspace?"

London.
Cambridge.
Peter's House.
Old Court.

Justine Maxwell Loftus, The Marchioness of Ely, "THE Lady Grey" to her enemies and "Lady Grey" to her friends, studied an iconograph of Peterhouse's crest.

Compared to the younger houses, the oldest constituent college of Cambridge University lacked a florid Coat. The simplicity couldn't be helped, for the arse end of the Dark Ages wasn't an epoch known for radical iconographers. Stoic in its plainness, the Arms consisted of four pale gules within a border of gules charged with eight golden crowns. For seven centuries, the Coat stood, unyielding to change, attested by the sad fact that Lady Loftus remained the sole female Master of Peterhouse since its inception, heedless of its astounding roster of women Magisters.

Nonetheless, Peterhouse remained a bastion of brilliance.

Among its exalted alumni was the Mage responsible for decoding multi-tier Dwarven Runecraft— the posthumously titled Meister Charlie Babbage. Likewise peering down on the Marchioness was the hung portrait of the honourable Meister Jamie Clarks Maxwell, grandfather to Justine's late husband, famous for his study of energy conduits. Beside Jamie hung the picture of Meister Thomson, more popularly known as Baron Kelvin, first of his name— for pioneering magical manipulation of climate events.

"All is well..."

Under the austere gazes of these world-changing men, Justine listened to the droning voice of Vice-Chancellor Butterfield.

"... the girl will be leaving tomorrow, hopping through Sydney, Brisbane, Townsville, Darwin, Singapore, and stopping at Yangon. On the 17th, the girl is scheduled to set foot in Istanbul via Mumbai's Inter-Continential Circle. Assuming she's in one piece after that jaunt, her next stations are Rome, Paris, then London. The Customs Office has sent out the paper works. The girl's Classification has caused a few headaches, but we'll manage."

"Will she be arriving at Cambridge directly?"

"Actually." Vice-Chancellor Butterfield's voice grew concerned. "She is going to stay in London until after Christmas. The missive from Lord Shultz said that we should expect her just before or after New Years."

"She'll be staying in London? Alone?" Justine Maxwell furrowed her brows. "We'll be on Michaelmas break, just what is the girl planning to do? Has she booked a hostel?"

"The girl is said to be unreasonably attached to an old friend," Alfred Butterfield replied. "An undergraduate at Nightingales by the name of Elvia Lindholm, formerly of Sydney. They survived the fall of the city together."

The Lady's expression relaxed. "Permissible, though I WILL see the girl as soon as she arrives. She must be inducted without mishap. Ensure she makes the trip down to Cambridgeshire. I'll take care of matters at Peterhouse."

"Certainly."

"And Lindholm— where have I heard that name? It sounds northern."

"The girl is Lady Astor's ward."

"Ah—" Lady Grey clapped. "I remember now. Lucy did mention she had a new pet project. Is the girl unique in any way?"

"She's a Spirit Healer with a juvenile Alraune. She's also unaffiliated. A complete independent."

"Really? How quaint."

"And another thing, Maxi—"

Lady Grey's eyes narrowed.

"— Justine. Lord Gunther has signed off on the girl applying for an Unlimited Flight licence. He has asked for your understanding."

"Are you our number three?"

"No, Magister Walken has that honour."

"Eric Walken? The idiot of Sydney? Why are they acquainted?"

"He did save her life in Shenyang," Butterfield expressed a grudging measure of respect. "Tied down and entrapped a North Korean Lich, he did— made us Oxbridge boys proud. What's more impressive, of course, was that by all accounts, he had effectively died, only to be brought back by the new technique Magister Jamison is pushing in Stanford. A shame. We could have used the technique for our Clerical faculty."

"I don't see why we can't." The Lady Grey glanced at the portraits hanging above the mantle. "It's a race to publish, after all. She who is cited most, is cited best, is it not? There's going to be so much work to be done. I am certain Miss Song will prove a potent dose of vitality for our ghoulish faculty. Under my watch, she shall bear the torch Henry had so abruptly left behind."

"I hope she won't disappoint." Butterfield adjusted his mantle. Of all the classical buildings in Cambridge, he disliked the Old Court the most. The decor used far too much heartwood, and the portraits tended to follow you with their eyes. "She is after all, firstly from a penal Frontier, and secondly from the Orient. I would not be surprised if she is uncouth, lacking in discipline, and possessed no idea of her place. I would remain cautiously optimistic, Justine."

"I think she'll make quite the splash." Lady Grey motioned for Vice-Chancellor Butterfield to leave her to her thoughts. "Go. Tell Gwen she must visit. And that when she does, Peterhouse shall hold Hall in her honour."

"Very well." Alfred Butterfield turned to leave.

"Wait—"

"Yes, Justine?"

"Have— her robe prepared. If she comes in wearing a gauche outfit..."

"Or brandishing adverts..." The vice-chancellor left the horror unsaid.

"Let's hope not." Lady Grey shivered. "Henry's ghost, I hope old Deathless isn't turning in his mausoleum. No one likes being accused of Necromancy."

Gwen's parting at Sydney Tower consisted of Gunther, who dropped by for thirty-seconds; Alesia, who kissed her on both cheeks; Yue, who held her like an abandoned joey; and her Opa, who wept like a woman.

"Come home soon!" Surya bawled. "Don't forget, your love child is safe in our hands! We'll nurture it with all my heart!"

"What?" Yue was just about to let go.

"Legion!" Gwen hissed under her breath. "He means the Divi-Tower project! Stupid Opa."

"It better be." Yue relaxed. "When you see Elvia, give her my love."

"I'll hug her until she passes out, then say 'From Yue with love'," Gwen promised.

"Okay, deal." The girls parted. "See you in a while, crocodile?"

"Yep. I'll be in contact! If you want to visit, just holler. I'll cover the ISTC tickets."

"Nah, I'll pay my way. Quit showing off, ya rich bitch." Yue chortled. "Seriously though, stay safe out there, watch out for those Ravenport bastards."

"I'll keep my eyes wide-open."

After another hug and a wet, slopping kiss from Surya, Gwen retreated behind the barrier.

"I'll call when I can!" Gwen waved a final time when the white-uniformed guards politely steered her toward the stage. "Stay safe, everyone!"

A blast of retina-searing Conjuration later, Gwen was gone.

"And just like that, she's on another adventure," Surya lamented.

"Like the wind." Alesia dabbed at her eyes. "She's a busy girl."

"I am hungry," Yue complained. "Hungry and sad."

"Alright!" Surya slapped his knees. Ever since taking Gwen's supplements, all of his old war wounds had ceased to ache. He felt like a younger man, one with a weekly appointment at the Black Cat. "Let's eat! Whatever you want, anything in the city. My shout!"

The thing with ISTC stations, Gwen realised, was that they were so uniform in their aesthetic that rapid transits felt like glitches in reality.

Her final stop on the first leg of her journey was Yangon, where she held a meeting with Marong to deliver the trade agreements Gunther had set up between the two nations. To Gwen's delight, Mayuree, who she had thought returned to Shanghai, had delayed her trip just so that they could catch up. Arm-in-arm, Diviner and Omni-Mage embraced for a long while, reminiscing the deaths, dangers and dares the duo had shared.

"Your body, its changed," Marong, professed expert in Gwen's physiology, spoke over iced cakes and sweet tea. "What happened?"

"Stuff." Gwen's eyes informed her ally that as much as she wanted to share, the information wasn't hers to tell. "What do you see that's different?"

"It's your smell— Sorry, I don't mean to be crude," Marong apologised. "It's no longer similar to Lord Ruxin's, at least not anymore. I am smelling something, older, or younger. It's strange, intoxicating even, but I don't know—"

"It's a blessing akin to the Yinglong's, but not like the Yinglong." Gwen gave all the hints to which she was privy. "I was hoping Ruxin would be here. I've got questions only he can answer."

"I can Message Lord Ruxin. If you like," Marong offered. "Believe it or not, the Master of Manipur, Nagaland and Kachin has taken to our Magi-tech like a Dragon to the heavens."

"Hmm..." Gwen pondered the prospect of litmus testing her Essence but ultimately declined. For now, keeping the status quo was preferable, especially as she was mid-transit. "Nah, let's not tempt fate."

"I tried divining your future, Gwennie, and as usual, its weal and woe in equal measure." Mayuree rested her head against Gwen's shoulder. "That said, Marong's right, you smell great."

"Ha." Gwen laughed awkwardly.

"Shall we head to the banquet?" Mayuree pulled at her hand. "Brother's prepared a feast fit for a royal."

Gwen sensed her tummy growling happily. If anything, her increased Void Affinity, the digestive prowess of Almudj's Essence and her lighting-charged metabolism, made her "Temple" the equivalent of a food furnace.

"Let's go." Gwen allowed herself to be tugged along. "Marong, you can brief me over dessert."

Past Yangon, Gwen's ISTC hopscotch felt like flipping through a Contiki brochure.

On her second leg, the first city on her itinerary was Mumbai, said to possess one of the largest ISTC station in the East Indies, second only to Singapore. In Gwen's earthly memory, she recalled a colonial city resplendent with old architecture but dense with smog, skirted by a brown-grey Arabian sea that alternatively smelled of brine and raw sewerage. In her contemporary setting, all she caught was a glimpse of the mana miasma; then she was whisked away by guards wearing red berets and crisp uniforms. When she grew paranoid as to why she alone out of the travellers had an armed escort, she was reminded of her Multi-Pass's new markings by a Custom's Officer.

_Class VI War Mage_

Feeling obtuse, Gwen apologised to the junior officer. If she was the Mayor of Mumbai, and a cruise missile wearing heels wandered through her airport, she would have taken the same precaution.

And so, without so much as a vindaloo, Gwen arrived at Istanbul, where an armed escort awaited her eminence. Not exchanging a single word, she was marched, with excessive politeness, to her next stop.

The denial of Turkish Delight was a glimpse of the life Gunther had foretold. For a girl of her age, lacking titles, backers, Faction and a TOWER to belong to, she was the dictionary definition of a loose cannon bouncing through someone's else's city.

At Rome, her "guide" was a Magister all too happy to talk. Their fifteen minutes together were enough to yield an invitation to Castel Sant'Angelo on a future date of her choosing, as well as her first European contact card— that of Magister Isabella Conigliaro.

"We owe him so much," the Magister had professed while holding Gwen's hand. "If you are in Rome, I'll be at your service."

In Paris-Charles De Gaulle, a stop that would have been wondrous had the ISTC Station not been built within what looked like a converted catacomb, more friendly faces graced her arrival. Her trio of hosts hailed from the infamous Tour Montparnasse— said to enjoy the most beautiful view in all of Paris because it offers the only vista without the Tour Montparnasse.

"I imagine you'll find generosity wherever the Towers are old." The lead Magister provided Gwen with a glimmer of optimism. "Lord Kilroy may no longer grace our presence in the light, but his achievements have cast a long shadow."

"Much like the one cast by the _plus laide_ Tower in all of _L'Europe,_ " a younger Magister added sarcastically. "Nonetheless, you are more than welcome to visit our hideous abode."

"Leon is joking. Renovations are being negotiated with the Dwarves of Mont Blanc." The leader of Montparnasse's trio flashed his junior a dirty in a way only the French could manage. "For now, please enjoy yourself in London. We await your coming."

"Oh, I'll be back." Gwen's credit-counting fingers itched just thinking of the fashion houses she had skipped for no reason other than sovereign borders and passports.

Waving goodbye to her "new friends", she once again stepped into the Teleportation Circle.

This time, finally, after an eternity of warping space and time and trading HDMs for distance, she had arrived at her port of call.

Elvia.