"Petra, run a Dispel on this thing," Magister Wen commanded.

Petra approached the hovering ring eagerly, once again donning her diagnostic goggles.

"A Pentagrammic Ward," she announced after a few seconds of focused observation. "It's a western style protection algorithm, Master. Outdated by at least a decade."

"I'd hardly think Nephres Zaalam was living large in the first world. Someone likely warded it for her some time ago."

"It's rigged to destroy the Pocket Dimension." Petra prodded the illusory glyphs which only she could see. "Master, I am not confident enough to Dispel something of this level without risking the contents."

"I would very much like to see the contents of that ring." Gwen glanced again at the pile of hair on the floor before speaking with great care. "It may be of significance to Magus Shultz and me."

"Your ring, your discretion," Magister Wen affirmed both girls' concerns. "Let's see the Warding first. Petra, I'll take over."

Gwen had never seen a Dispel performed on an enchanted object before.

She activated her meagre Detect Magic, just making out the vague shapes of Glyphs. Magister Wen pulled tendrils of energy away, like a woman meticulously picking away a clump of tangled twines for the loose string which would unravel the whole knot.

After a few more minutes, the Magister held the Storage Ring in her hand, its Warding negated.

"Here." She tossed it toward Gwen. "Your spoils."

That Magister Wen did not check the contents of the ring first herself struck Gwen as an incredibly generous feat. Was it because her earlier speech had engendered enough rapport to allow for mutual respect?

She found that unlikely.

There had been a palpable distance between them even as they embraced.

Perhaps it was decorum? After all, the _loot_ was from her enemy, whom she murdered, and now retrieved from her Familiar's gullet. Offering to unlock a chest didn't mean one could peek or keep what was inside it. To do so would be violating the unspoken norm. Perhaps one of Gwen's companions may have issued a challenge for the ring, but certainly not someone as unrelated as Wen herself.

"The Warding…" Gwen tested the Magister's intention.

"Is dispelled, a trivial matter," Magister Wen informed her. "An outdated formulae indeed. Likely a Rogue Enchanter. It's not like those Wildland exiles could attend the latest International Conference on Advanced Warding Algorithms and Mandalas."

The group watched as Gwen donned the ring. She wore her Contingency Ring on her left ring finger, her Ring of Evasion on her right, her Medium Storage Ring on her left index finger, and now her new ring on her right index.

A few more rings, and she could rival Mayuree.

In general, Mages seldom wore more than one Storage Ring. The larger the ring, the more mana was required to stow items of a particular size and density. Therefore, a large storage ring was usually enjoyed by those with significant mana pools, such as a senior Magus or a Magister.

Gwen made a note to gift her Opa's ring to Richard, who had a modest Storage Ring. Her cousin would keep her keepsake safe, make good use of it, and return it to her in good time.

"Caliban, anything else you got in there?" Gwen picked up her obsidian serpent with some effort, hugged it to her chest, and then gave it a mighty squeeze, pondering if a Heinrich Manoeuvre could coax some more mysterious items from its gullet.

"Shaa-Shaa!" Caliban wiggled happily in her arms.

Her empathic link told her that it enjoyed being hugged and smooshed. To prove her point, a rude tentacle attempted to give her a lick, splattering grey goo as it wiggled back and forth.

The rest of her party stepped back politely.

Gwen took a moment to collect twenty-odd inscribed implements. When Gwen examined a slimy dagger, she realised that they were without pommels or handles, allowing the blades to interlock like scales when controlled en-masse.

"Let's complete our investigation before you inspect that ring," Magister Wen advised impatiently. "I hope that break was enough for you to catch your breath."

"I am ready." Gwen turned her attention back to the task at hand. Petra handed her the final Spell-cube.

"Be careful. You're draining your vitality now, right?"

Gwen nodded, then placed both hands on the crystalline cube.

The cube began to fill.

Gwen gasped, shivering as she sought to endure the ice in her veins. The skin on her arm, torso and legs turned clammy and cold with sickly sweat; her complexion took on the hue of ash. Her irises took on the likeness of two bottomless, deathly orbs. Vertigo, like when she found herself alone and afraid in Hyde Park, made her body weightless.

"Oh, Gods…" Gwen moaned, feeling the strength fade from her arms, refuting the command from her mind; the half-filled cube fell from her hands.

"Shaa!" Caliban slithered back and forth with agitation, its limited cognisance preventing it from meaningful action.

Petra caught Gwen by the shoulder, suddenly drunk on deathly liquor.

"Gwen! Restoration!" Klavdiya's Restoration struck her granddaughter, dispelling the Negative Energy consuming her life force. Magus Kumiko's healing spell came next, restoring her to lucidity as Positive Energy flooded her mana channels and revitalised her cold flesh.

Gwen gasped for air, her dilated irises regaining their focus.

"You've pushed yourself too far!" Her babulya took her frigid hands and warmed them between her palms.

"I am alright… "Gwen leaned on her elbows, feeling the crystals digging into her flesh. "Thanks for the pick-me-up, Pats. Babulya. Magus Kumiko."

"Looks like that's your limit." Magister Wen ticked off a set of data on her slate. "I would be cautious, Gwen. If you inundate your body with excessive Negative Energy, permanent damage to your mana channels would be the least of your worries. Still. Very good, Gwen. I'll run these numbers and generate the numeric indices for you."

Her babulya pulled Gwen beside her protectively.

"I hope we're done, Marie." Her voice had taken on a tone of distinct displeasure.

"Are we?" Magister Wen smiled. "I don't want to see Gwen hurt either, Klavdiya. But that doesn't mean I can infer her limits with guesses. Our actions are for her benefit as well. You, of all people, should know there are sacrifices for knowledge."

Gwen's grandmother knitted her brows, looking pensive. Gwen wondered if she regretted her consent.

"I am sorry, Babulya," Gwen apologised. "Magister Wen... is trying to help in her way."

"Then I am sorry too." Her grandmother brushed a stray strand of hair from the arch of Gwen's cheekbones. She sighed defeatedly. "I understand, but it doesn't mean I wish it on my dearest grandchild."

The vast space of the oversized training hall made the moment bleaker than either Gwen or Klavdiya intended, amplifying Gwen's fatalistic choices.

"Shall we check the contents of the Ring?" Gwen took the opportunity to pivot toward a pleasant distraction.

Before the others answered, she swept her consciousness over Zalaam's—or rather— _her_ new Large Storage Ring, sensing it attune to her mana signature.

"I will now display its contents," Gwen announced. No one had demanded to see the ring's inventory, but she had read the curiosity in their eyes the moment the ring _tinked_ on the tiles.

Six banded metal boxes, elongated and rectangular, materialised beside her boots.

She knelt, flipped the clasp, and then released the catch.

A row of neatly embedded HDM crystal currency cards appeared.

100 HDM in a row of ten.

1000 HDMs per box.

Six Thousand in total.

She would split this with her party, Gwen decided. Especially Lulan and Richard, who could most definitely use the money right now.

She then moved to the side, unleashing a knee-high pile of raw, unprocessed HDM and LDM Crystals. If she had to ballpark, she'd guess about a thousand HDMs.

The Director and the Magister exchanged glances.

Gwen moved on.

A box of twenty-four healing injectors, still wrapped in cardboard packaging, appeared.

A second box materialised, half-used.

A crate of assorted potions.

"Oh!" Petra interrupted her cousin's selfless show and tell. "A Potion of Invisibility!"

"An item high on the list of alchemical contrabands," Gwen's babulya warned. "You should be very careful, Gwen. Hide or destroy it, but don't let anyone know you have it. Present company excepted, I would hope."

Gwen nodded, putting the crystal-clear potion aside for now. Magus Kumiko squirmed when Gwen's babulya shot her a sideways glance.

Next, her mind brushed over something substantial.

'THUNK!'

A crystal core the size of a medium-sized sofa successfully materialised beside Gwen after consuming almost a quarter of her mana. Given an average Mage with only 50 VMI, they wouldn't even be able to store or retrieve the Core. The higher the density, the greater the weight, the more magically inclined, and the higher the cost of an item's storage and retrieval.

"A Shielding Stone?" Magister Wen was the first to recognise the crystal core.

The Tower had criteria for size, purity, and clarity of Cores, which were used to create resonance Shields that could ward away Wildland beings and creatures. A deep-earth crystal mine generally only produced enough condensed cores to supply two to three Shielding Stations.

"Now, this is a rather dire development." Klavdiya stepped around the Core. "Gwen, I don't suppose you have anything else in there that can pinpoint to whom this core is supposed to be delivered?"

Gwen took a few moments to scan the rest of the ring, then shook her head.

Next, she produced several crates of minerals in interesting hues.

Her babulya's brows furrowed. "Five-Stone Powder." Her voice was very serious. "What else have you got in there?"

"That's a highly illicit alchemical product." Petra glanced at the ring on Gwen's finger worriedly. "Distribution carries a death sentence under the CCP."

Five-Stone Powder was a concoction made by Taoist alchemists from an infusion of ground realgar, sulphur, turquoise, ochre, and amethyst. Each of the stones possessed elemental attributes. When catalysed by an injection of mercury, it created a highly addictive Affinity-booster that considerably raised one's connection to the Elemental Planes for a short period. The downside was the potential temporary insanity often caused in those vulnerable to mind-altering effects. As with all boosters, there were significant costs once the body acclimatised to the dosage.

Gwen brought out everything else of interest within the ring.

Shoes.

Clothes.

Dresses.

Intimates.

Cosmetics.

Things that reminded her poignantly that the ring's previous owner wasn't just nutrient for Caliban. She was human. A person. A being who pursued the wild beauty of life, even if she did err on the wrong side of their morality spectrum.

Silently, Gwen laughed at herself. In six days, she would follow in Elizabeth's proud footsteps. There would be a man condemned to die, and she would take his life in the most repugnant way possible. _We're such fucking hypocrites,_ Gwen cursed herself. For a second, she fantasised about yanking the ring from her fingers and tossing it away like a fat spider.

"When I was on the Frontier, I found a Shield Station with the stone taken out," Gwen redirected her mind, thinking back to her misadventure with Debora and company. "Later on, Gunther told me that the same Stone was used to cause a frequency overload that detonated and destroyed the outer segment of Sydney's Shielding Wall."

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"I see. Rest assured, that would not happen here. Keep the currency and the crystals. The potions, too, including the Invisibility one," Magister Wen advised. "As for the stone and the reagents for the Powder, I will have to get the Dean to contact the MSS. It looks like there's much more going on at D-109 than any of us thought."

Gwen thought of Secretariat Choi's beady, weaselly eyes. "Hadn't Uncle Jun taken care of the Admin there?"

"I wouldn't know, dear. That's Bureau business." Klavdiya avoided taking the conversation any further. "Your grandfather usually deals with the aftermath of Jun's work. Speaking of which, Jun would like to speak to you sometime soon. He wants to chat with you regarding all... of this."

"Alright, babulya, I'll call him," Gwen promised.

Circling the perimeter of the ill-gotten loot, she packed away her plunder, leaving behind the crystal core and the cargo of illicit reagents.

"How do you feel now?" Petra asked Gwen as she exercised the capacity of her new ring with an expression of permeant distraction.

"I am good," Gwen replied, a careless white lie no one believed.

"Hungry?"

Gwen touched a hand to her diaphragm. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I am ready," Magus Kumiko announced eagerly. "Bring Caliban into the Force Cage. Let's get you some vitality to ease you through the week!"

Gwen was about to oblige when Magister Wen obstructed her.

"Perhaps this is an opportunity to test exactly 'how' addictive your desire for satiation may become. You can safely experience if it should impact your thoughts, your physiology, make voracious a particular appetite, for food or otherwise," the scholar declared.

When her babulya rose to protest, the Magister cut her off.

"Gwen lives only a few minutes away. Should anything arise, both Kumiko and myself can be made available immediately. She will be perfectly sound."

"Still, that's a little rushed, don't you think?" Klavdiya intervened. "She's only consumed a dozen beasties and a single... woman."

The awkwardness lingered like a floating feather.

"Gwen," Magister Wen retracted her decision. "As I said, it's your talent, your body."

Gwen pondered the proposal. There was a certain gratification in getting these questions about herself off her chest. Whatever mechanic or trait her hunger would induce, there was no benefit in entertaining ignorance.

"I am curious as well," Gwen informed Klavdiya. "I'll be alright, Babulya. Petra is with me as well. Let's give it a few days and see how it goes. As we say in the Frontier, she'll be right."

Klavdiya could only nod at her commitment.

"Master," Petra intoned as she stood by Gwen's side. "If you think we're finished for the day, then I wish to take Gwen home to rest. We have classes tomorrow."

"Very well," Wen concurred. "Gwen had consented to human trials, and we had gained invaluable data regarding the mechanical operations of the Void as an element. All that was left was to test the breadth and scope of the Void's impact on sentient and sapient beings, not to mention the caster herself. Rest well."

Klavdiya affirmed the consensus. "Rest well, child. Magister Wen and I will be going over your data. Some must be submitted to the committees to facilitate your next experiment."

Gwen nodded sadly at her grandmother.

_Sweet Saint Peter,_ she thought to herself. We haven't even done the deed, and our minds are already reeling from reality. For a second, Gwen wondered how Wen was coping with it, but one look at the apple-pink cheeks of her "Instructor" told her everything she needed to know.

Watching the trio close the door behind them, Klavdiya turned to Wen.

"You're _really_ doing this?"

The two women met one another's eyes.

"Yes. _We_ are doing this?"

"Marie, I respect you as a friend and colleague, but I won't forgive you if—"

"You can't keep Gwen under a rock forever," Magister Wen scoffed. "Someone's bound to dig her up and try to take her away. Would you rather she get taken, kicking and screaming? Will you fight the world? Will Guo? At least with us, she gets to walk her Path."

"A difficult path for one so young." Klavdiya studied the age lines on her hands, the most telling part of her body, feeling her age. "So many ways this could go wrong."

"What's the recourse? You could send her back to Sydney. I know you've got connections within the Foreign Affairs Committee. Now's the chance before the powers that be get involved. Send her away. Do it."

"Don't test me, Marie."

"Sorry." Wen's tone softened.

"... I am sorry too. This business doesn't sit well with me." Klavdiya sighed.

"She'll be looked after. Eyes are watching."

"What's the news from upon on high?"

"Both Towers have promised to remain observers for now. But you know how it is. Guo survived the Second Purge, didn't he? Promises are only kept when practical and convenient. When did the CCP ever play by the rules? Only when it suits."

Klavdiya studied her hands. "Marie, how far do you intend to take this?"

"As far as she is willing."

"And if she is as strong as Shultz promised?"

Magister Wen's eager eyes had an ethereal, unsettling glow to them. One that was not empowered by any magic or mana but by conviction, belief, and faith.

"What if we create an Omni-Mage?"

"There's no such thing!" Klavdiya retorted cynically. "The deities are just planar creatures and God-Kings, killable and mortal."

"Hahahaha!" Magister Wen laughed. "I should have expected such an answer from a Godless Communist Hospital Director. Imagine, Klavdiya, a being who can tap into every School of Magic and whose ability allowed herself to steal from others the Essence of life."

Magister Wen's face became as pink as pippins. "Yet, this Übermensch is thinking, benevolent, and full of altruism and compassion. How do you suppose history will perceive such a being?"

"I can't judge that."

The two women stood side by side.

"Will you go see Secretariat Shi now?" Klavdiya asked.

"Yes," Wen affirmed. "Yourself?"

"I'll go see Dean Luo," Klavdiya answered. "He has to be involved for a test of such ethical ambiguity."

"Do you want me to perform the background check on our hapless participant?" Wen asked.

"We'll both do it." Klavdiya did not trust her friend at this junction. "I will brook no mistakes! I'll not have Gwen become a murderer of innocents."

With her final words, the Director of the PLA Second Hospital left the premise.

Magister Wen watched her peer close the door behind her, clearly entered by the task ahead of them. The elderly scholar took a stroll around the empty hall, stopping by the crystalline Warding, then strolled past Kumiko's defunct Summoning Circle.

Her mind brushed over the eight or so cubes stowed in her ring, brimming with Void-matter. There was so much to analyse, so much data. Surely, after becoming the saviour of all Void Mages, there would be a possibility of Meisterhood for herself.

"Kilroy and Sobel…" Wen muttered to herself, her tone akin to one reciting a mantra. "And now, Gwen. How strange is the way of Karma."

"Oh! I've still got a beggar's chicken in my ring!" Gwen realised when Petra and herself entered the apartment. "I'll give it to Babulya the next time."

The pocket space of Storage Rings differed from one Enchanter to another. Her Opa's mastercrafted ring held non-magical items in stasis but allowed for thermodynamic changes. Hot food cooled, and cold stuff returned to room temperature. Curiously, non-magical food did not spoil, but mana-rich foodstuff did. As for her new ring, she would have to see what it did.

If she needed it, there were Absolute-Stasis Rings, but those were ten times more expensive and used only by Alchemists and other professionals who dealt with fresh Wildland produce.

Though the clock only struck six, the summer sun glared fiercely into the apartment. The shut windows trapped the heat, making the two-bedder stuffy and uncomfortable.

Petra located the wall panel and punched a few Glyphs into the climate control, activating the cooling Glyphs inscribed into the ducting.

As fresh air began to circulate the room, Petra made herself comfortable, then pulled out a bundle of pamphlets for local takeout.

"How hungry?" Petra enquired.

"Famished," Gwen replied. "The usual."

Petra Messaged the local Vietnamese restaurant and ordered enough for a family of four, prioritising soupy comfort food in the form of pho and rice rolls.

While they waited, Gwen checked the LRC Device for any replies.

There was exactly one Message waiting for her.

_"Elvia away on Mission—will return next week—SS,"_ read a message.

_SS?_ Gwen took a moment to realise it likely stood for Sylvie Stratford, Elvia's roommate.

Gwen turned on the Vid-caster and checked the news.

"—Prime Minister Tony Blair speaks out against the influx of migrants seeking access to London from the Frontier regions. Riding on a wave of anti-immigration movement and focusing on the internal development of the Britannic Mageocracy, the Prime Minister has successfully rallied—"

_Click._

"—US and British Coalition expedition have ignored suggestions from the United Nations to push ahead with the retaking of regions lost to the Fire Sea, angering Demi-human tribes in the Frontier region. The Middle East has long been a hotbed of religious and sectarian conflict, and the intrusion of New World Human forces into this biblical landscape is critiqued by its Chinese allies. The US has accused the PLA of undermining peace and stability in the Kazakhstani region—"

There were only seven ' TV Stations' on Chinese Vid-cast streams.

CCVC-1, CCVC-2, Shanghai-ONE and BBC Pudong were undoubtedly filtered for the Chinese audience, largely focused on producing propaganda Vid-casts about a particular historical event or a contemporary piece on spreading human hegemony across the South China Sea. The remaining three channels, Shanghai-PEARL, Shanghai-Media, and Huaxing, offered mass entertainment, music, and other shows crafted by Illusionists. There were other regional channels, an official government channel showing snippets from parliamentary meetings, a classical music station featuring Chinese opera, and an emergency broadcast band overrode the others.

While the West touted Vid-casts as something akin to illumination, the CCP saw Vid-casts as an easy way to brainwash the impressionable and the vulnerable, especially the NoMs, who are impoverished and bored, and were often obsessed with icons. After all, many actors, musicians and idols were NoMs, offering the masses a lofty and unreachable dream of fame and fortune.

Gwen switched to BBC Pudong.

"—On the Northern Front, a new Undead Tide has emerged from Pyongyang, threatening Seoul and the Chinese port city of Dalian. In response, the United States held tripartite talks in Beijing on April 23-25. Multi-party negotiations with Seoul, Moscow and Tokyo to discuss aid stalled when the United States refused to give up interests in the South China Sea. The Central Committee has since withdrawn its support for an alliance, citing territorial tensions with Japan and South Korea—"

Gwen turned off the Vid-cast.

Just like in her old world, the news cycle was pure depression.

The more one obsessed with the news, the more one understood that all was not right with the world and that things got worse.

At least in this world, without the internet, things like 'fake' news have yet to become the norm.

_Ding-Ding!_

The doorbell rang.

Petra took delivery, and then the two girls sat down to eat, making small talk as they picked through the food. Petra stopped after one bowl of noodle soup, then watched as her Gwen patiently packed away two bowls of soup, one serving of salad, half a dozen spring rolls, and a coconut sago pudding.

Gwen still had no idea where her food went. Her body absorbed it all. Her stomach could be so full as to be painful one moment, then fifteen minutes later, she was hungry again. When she discussed it with her babulya, the Director told her to consume more Wildland produce rich in mana and vitality.

"With the amount you're eating, if you overeat NoM foodstuff, you will get a very upset stomach. The human digestive system can only take so much, dear. You're not a Minotaur—did you know they have four stomachs?"

Gwen could see where babulya was going. NoM food made her bloat.

After the meal, Gwen sat in a food coma for about half an hour, feeling infused with warmth. As her metabolism cooled, however, the hunger returned.

An addiction to _Consume._

In her old world, addictions were an abstraction. There was always a gateway moment—a harmless bit of fun. Maybe a joint of weed at a party or a pill at a rave. Then harder drugs followed. Gwen might have been a problematic wreck in her teenage years, but she knew better than to be sucked into that particular vortex.

As a professional money maker, she had prescriptions to guide her foray into pharmaceuticals. When the Prozac she was prescribed lost its edge, it was replaced by its more potent cousin with half the half-life, Cipralex. That had been fun.

"Good night, Gwen."

"Night, Pats."

Once alone on her bed, Gwen scanned her new Storage Ring.

Tomorrow, she would give the daggers back to Kusu, then split her loot with Lulan, Mia, Kitty and Richard.

Sweeping her hand across her bedsheet, she produced three data slates omitted from her show and tell.

Glancing at the door, she picked up the carbon-coloured slate, checked its crystal battery, and then activated the device. Unlike the intelligent machines of her Information Age, the slates were glorified notebooks whose surface could be turned into parchment, then inscribed and stowed. Most were American-made, though China's manufacturing sector had long since appropriated the device, defying protests from the American Towers.

The familiar sight of tables and numbers appeared on the first slate.

Gwen quickly scrolled through the sheets, over three hundred in total.

"Accounts paid…"

"Accounts received…"

"Inventory…"

The 'Invoice' segment made her eyes light up.

A treasure trove of potential information, even if the client details were filled in with code, with annotations such as 'E.M203-HZ45-003".

The second slate proved to be an inventory of business matters within D-109 itself. Through its details, Gwen spotted several instances where the recipient of casements of Five-Stone Power, Mage-stock, or Crystals was explicitly addressed to Secretariat Choi.

Good, she thought to herself—more fuel for the fire.

The third data slate displayed a profile page in a format familiar to her.

There was the rectangular passport photo headshot.

What sent shivers up her spine was that she was looking at a picture of herself.

**Gwen Song**

**Public Practice of Magic ID:** : 9840598 001

**Hair** : Warm Brown

**Eyes** : Hazel

**Height** : 181 CM

**Race** : Eurasian

**Father** : Hai Song

**Mother** : Helena Huang

**Notable Members of the Family::**

Guo Song. MSS Committee Chair.

Klavdiya Song. Director 2nd PLA Experimental Hospital.

Jun Song. Captain, PLA. Grey Ghost (Retired)

**SoM** : Evocation (Min), Conjuration (Maj)

**Elemental:** Lightning / Void

**Magic Class Permit (A)**

The data on the document was so familiar because she had seen it before. It was the one that her grandmother had handed to Dean Luo. Gwen produced the carbon copy from her Storage Ring, then felt her jaws set grimly as the details and formatting matched perfectly.

_What did this mean?_ She wondered. The incomplete data sheet raised more questions than it answered. Why would Nephres Zalaam have access to something like this? A document such as this could have gotten away from Fudan's archive only if someone deliberately disseminated it. If so, why were her extended Spell-Schools removed? Especially as her Dual-Elemental talent was gloriously displayed.

Her head throbbed. She didn't want to think. She just wanted everything to go away. Luckily, there was a person she could count on for that to happen.

With a few touches of her Message Device, Gwen made the call.

"Uncle Jun?"

"Gwen? What a pleasant surprise! I wasn't expecting a call until next week. How are you? Did the examinations go well?"

"They did. Thank you, Uncle Jun," Gwen replied. "Listen, I've come into possession of Nephres Zaalam's Storage Ring, and there's some fascinating accounting information she'd kept which I think will be of interest to you involving her dealing in the city and with Secretariat Choi. Do you... have time to talk?"


A contemplative silence lingered between uncle and niece.

Gwen could imagine Jun having two expressions: one where he pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked up at the ceiling, another where he grinned confidently, unfazed: what she didn't know was what expression the man currently used.

Gwen had to admit that the first impression was something more readily attributed to her father; Jun was the opposite of Morye-Hai Song.

"Where are you now?"

"I am at the apartment."

"Are you free to meet up? I am still processing Choi's case. If what you say is true, there will be a lot of trouble for Secretariat Choi and another round of CCs for our little spook."

"It's entirely accidental." Gwen chuckled at her new moniker as a femme fatale. "I can come out now. I'll let Petra know."

"Maybe she should escort you?"

"That's going to be awkward," Gwen confessed. "I hid the slates from her Master earlier."

"Petra's a good girl. She wouldn't have minded, I am sure."

"I was more afraid there would be sensitive material in there. I trust Petra, but we have an understanding. I don't want her to act against her Master's interests, not when we can avoid the issue altogether."

"Well! As a loyal member of the PLA, I must have misheard just now. Where do you want to meet?"

"Do you know a cafe called Caffebene? It's on Handan Rd."

"I don't, but I'll find it. Is 2040 alright? I'll be leaving from Dachang Airbase. Signing out is going to take some time."

"Sure, I am just three blocks over."

"See you soon."

"See you, Uncle Jun."

Thirty-odd minutes later, Gwen opened her bedroom door. The Shanghai summer was coming on sticky and muggy, with the monsoonal air so humid as to cling to one's skin like a film. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Gwen picked out exercise clothing common to the streets. Seeing that it was late, she added a windbreaker, using its hood to hide her thick ponytail.

"I am heading out for a sec." she knocked on Petra's door. "Seeing Uncle Jun for a bit, he wanted to have a pep talk. I'll Message you if anything happens."

When her cousin dressed and emerged, the apartment door had clicked shut, and Gwen was gone.

Caffebene was a little out-of-the-way coffee shop that transformed at night into a dessert bar selling an assortment of cakes. The owner was an NoM young man in his late twenties who liked to follow the latest trends, fancying himself a bit of a fashionista.

He hadn't intended to open the shop for almost sixteen hours a day, but Fudan was a high-rent area with lively nightlife. Its citizens enjoyed midnight strolls and _Xiao-Ye,_ meaning nighttime snacks, staying up as late as three AM, playing cards, making small talk, and trading gossip.

Currently, his eyes were scanning the horoscope section of the local paper. According to the columnist, they were written by sanctioned Diviners.

_There may be a great deal of fuss over something you have thoughts over. Snake, try to see the beauty of everything around you. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Make sure you give enough credit to yourself. Good things await those who are willing to try._

The owner looked about his shop. Empty.

What should he try exactly?

Caffebene did not have the best decor, though it was cute and clean. It did not sell the best coffee, though they were marginally cheaper. The chocolate-coffee cake his wife baked, though, was divine.

Should he make the shop into a 'coffee' confectionery instead? What if the heavenly signs are different tomorrow?

Just as he began to doubt the contents of his horoscope, a figure pushed past the doorway, setting the bell to jingle. When he looked up, he recognised the familiar figure immediately.

Petra Kuznetsova's cousin! Guan something!

There was no one else around Fudan with a more recognisable silhouette! He had seen her jogging around Campus every morning for six weeks. Every time she passed with her Mongolian Death Worm, it set the customer's tongues wagging.

Mao! The girl was stunning, even in casual wear. The owner had to remind himself that he was a happily married, non-magically inclined husband with a wife who could bake like an Enchanter.

"Please sit anywhere you like, Miss," the owner's voice choked out, an octave higher than he had intended. She was an actual celebrity! The word on the street was that she was a one-in-a-million Conjurer. Maybe she could bring business with her. Guan-something's favourite cake!

When the Mongolian Deathworm followed her in together with a large ferret, the owner cautioned his fantasies.

The girl nodded sweetly, her face pallid in the ambient light, her eyes seeking a discrete corner. The owner couldn't help but stare at the girl as she crossed her legs, looking like a magazine spread.

A strange sensation seemed to engender itself in his chest, a daring thought that he would have never entertained were they not alone in his shop. The visage of his wife dimmed. What was the girl doing out so late and alone anyhow? And what was this strange disorientation he felt? Vertigo? How curious.

The Mongolian Deathworm raised its head.

_Tink—_

The door opened again, shaking the owner from his thoughts.

_What was that?_ The owner's head cleared, the sensation falling away. He could breathe again. He apologised to his spouse in silence, then looked up to greet the new customer.

"Gwen!" the man called out, raising a hand.

"Uncle!" the girl roused from her chair.

"Just us in here, huh?" The new patron turned his attention toward the owner.

This 'Uncle' of the girl was a military man. A PLA officer? The owner pondered. He knew that grunts were forbidden from leaving the barracks after curfew. Only select officers had that sort of leeway. The man wore blue-white military cargo pants that ended in dark leather boots laced far too neatly, with a tight, long-sleeve shirt that moulded around his broad pectorals and tapered waist.

The man moved with cat-like grace.

He threw something toward the owner.

The owner caught it.

Even as an NoM, he recognised the sliver of crystal. From the feel and weight of it, it was worth three to four HDMs at least.

"Do you mind locking up for the night? We need privacy," the military man enquired with a tone that inferred this was not a request. "That's yours if you do. We can go elsewhere as well. Not to worry."

_Who was this guy kidding?_ On a quiet night like this, the owner knew he was lucky to make half of what he'd been given. He sold coffee and cakes, for Mao's sake, not banquets.

"Sure thing, boss!" The owner quickly locked up, switching the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed'. "I'll be upstairs, doing accounts and preparing for tomorrow. Help yourself to the fridge. Let me know if you want mixed drinks."

"Gwen? Do you want anything? I'll take water."

"Can I have the 10-inch Choco-mouse cake?"

The owner reached into the cabinet and was about to cut a slice when the girl spoke again.

"The whole cake. Sir." The girl blushed, adding a hint of colour to her bloodless cheeks.

"Of course, Miss." The owner averted his eyes. With his head freed from that shameful compulsion, he dared not lose himself again. Now that he had divorced himself from her allure, she was beginning to make his skin crawl. "Right away, I'll bring water. Please help yourself to anything you like in the cold cabinet."

Jun made a face when the cake presented to them was placed with an audible thud on the table. Gwen watched her uncle stare at the icing on the cake.

The owner returned with glasses, a jug of cold water, forks and spoons, serviettes and even a bib, then retreated to some farther room, leaving uncle and niece to themselves.

"First things first." Gwen materialised the data slates and briefly explained what was in Nephres' ring, reiterating her experiences in Sydney and Edgar's incident.

Jun took the slates and carefully read through them one by one.

"We know about the Powders," Jun murmured as he browsed through the slate with Choi's name written in black and white. "Interesting. The Secretariat was doing a little trading with the other leaders of the Districts."

"Is that bad?" Gwen enquired. The Lost Districts were, after all, a semi-autonomous region.

"Oh, yes," Jun replied. "There are no Divination Towers in or near the area, meaning they must run things via some external network. Contact between the various zones is one of the foremost things forbidden in the Lost Districts. Secretariat Choi and his colleagues will be vacationing at the Sky Prison far longer than they had anticipated."

"Why would he send the Slavers against us if Nephres had this much dirt on him?"

Jun shrugged, rolling his broad shoulders. He took a sip from the glass of water Gwen had poured out for him.

"You have to understand that when a man like Choi sits like a King on the throne of his little abode for too long, it twists his head. He begins to think that he can do no wrong and that his choices are impeccably wise and immaculately planned. I've seen it all too often, not just in the PLA but in places in the Frontier when a Clan-Head or an official has all the power. There's madness that comes with having the power of life and death over so many."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," Gwen chimed in with an adage.

"Yes. Very good, Gwen." Jun stabbed a small corner of the cake and took a bite. "Too sweet."

Gwen had held off out of politeness, but now that Jun had dug in, she was free to ravage the remaining 99.9% of the sugary treat.

"Choi is the blister and boil that inevitably appears when a beast as large as the CCP, with its PLA, holds so much power over every aspect of the citizens' lives. An interesting Chinese saying covers it well: the district bureaucrat is greedy for money, the regional bureaucrat is greedy for power, the state bureaucrat is greedy for stability, and the Emperor is greedy for immortality. I guess Choi never graduated past the first rung. As for where all the money goes, let's say the vine extends far up the trunk."

Gwen nodded, her cheeks filling like a chipmunk's.

Jun watched his niece, humoured by her self-professed ease in his presence.

Jun looked through the third slate, the one with the student profiles.

"... this one has our student records on it. I think they leaked from Fudan."

Jun paused at the profiles.

"Incomplete. How curious."

"What do you think, Uncle Jun?"

Jun stowed away the slates in his Storage Ring.

"Bait."

"Bait?"

Jun nodded.

"I've seen that profile image. I think mother took it when you first had your biometric-Spellcraft measurements done. The only people who would have access to that specific image are your Grandmother and the Fudan Administration office, though I suppose Dean Luo could have had a copy. It's not the image used on your Student ID. It's the one on your original application."

"How do you suppose Nephres Zalaam got a hold of it?"

"Do you want to know?"

"Do I..." Gwen read her uncle's eyes. Sometimes, a little bliss was better than having too much knowledge. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. "I... do."

"Wen gave Choi the records. Not an unusual thing, mind you. Quite within the expected standard of things. What's interesting is why there are omittances."

"Of my other Schools?"

Jun chuckled.

"Gwen, let me give you some advice. It would be best if you learned to open your eyes beyond your immediate world. Your record was incomplete, sure, but it remains an impressive read. Void, Lightning, two Schools of Magic, how wonderous and powerful! If I were in the trafficking trade, you would be a prize beyond compare—absolutely worth the risks of the Tower's and the PLA's ire! What's missing, then, is not YOUR record."

Gwen scanned her memory of the others' records. Besides Kitty's profile, Mayuree and Richard's gave away nothing.

"The others! They're depicted as nobodies..."

"Nothing impressive or dangerous. Yes."

"Which means the records were altered to engender temptation for the traffickers!" The fog cleared. It all made sense!

"Always look at the whole circumstance. You must see beneath the beneath," Gwen's uncle advised. "You'll get the hang of it."

Gwen's face flushed. In the next second, though, her blood ran cold.

"Magister Wen..."

"Is a woman with an agenda."

That much was evident by now.

The Magister had no idea who Nephres was, of course, her relationship to Elizabeth Sobel or Edgar. Maybe the incident couldn't have been averted, but perhaps it could. It was all muddled up now. What was important was that, as Jun stated, the Magister was not her friend. Her designs were her own; Gwen Song was less an individual, and more so a Wildland Beast Wen had to fatten up with carrion.

"I see that you now know. Choi told me already. I had a Mind-Mage scrape him, though we might have to go deeper now."

Gwen inclined her head solemnly, thinking of the sensation of having someone invade the most private sanctum of your mind. Unconsciously she cut out a generous portion of the cake with her fork and crammed it into her mouth melancholically.

"As for the slate with the code, we have someone specialising in that sort of thing. I'll submit it and see if I can get some more CCs on top of the ones I promised you back in D-109."

That was one piece of good news, at least.

Gwen thanked her uncle. CCs helped; she needed to pick up another two to three spells across three different Schools of Magic.

"So Gwen," Jun began again. "I spoke to grandmother before I came."

"Oh?"

"She told me about the decision you have reached."

Gwen met her uncle's dark eyes, within which the ambient light of the coffee shop refracted across his cold, charcoal pupils.

"I have to know how to control… my appetite," Gwen announced evasively.

"That may be." Jun's face came closer. Gwen could see his biceps balloon as he leaned in, elbows on the desk. "There's a better way, Gwen."

Gwen's fork paused on its way to the chocolate cake.

"There is?"

"I think," Jun said carefully. "Both you and mother have been pulled too deeply into Magister Wen's world. That woman cares for nothing other than her data, her papers and her publications. That's what makes her so useful—but also dangerous."

"Then…"

"I understand that you've made a choice, Gwen." Jun's face, identical to her father's, made her queasy. The look of earnest devotion and care on Morye's ever-playful and never-serious face was screwing with her head. "Mark my words. There will be far more _prisoners_ once she gets her initial data."

"I told her we were going as far as our fact-finding mission would take us," Gwen protested, feeling strangely defensive of her choice. It had taken her so much effort and will to make this decision, and now Jun was trying to dissuade her. If there was another choice, what was the point of her splattering blood all over her face to make that decision?

Jun caught the defiance in her eyes and put up a hand in protest.

"Whoa there, let me finish. Mao, you're like my mother in that regard. Once you set your head around something…"

Gwen stabbed the cake a little more violently than she'd intended.

"This is what's so dangerous about Magister Wen. The woman is offering you extremes, delivered in logical and reasonable terms. There's no compromise. Tell me, Gwen, do you believe consuming another 'being' would help your present condition?"

Gwen wanted to say yes.

"Do you believe you cannot control your _appetite_?"

She had no idea.

"Do you think consuming _more_ people would make it easier for your future endeavours? That you will fundamentally change the nature of an Element because of applied academia and repetition? After the 10th victim, things will be _different_?"

Gwen honestly had no answer to that. Perhaps Magister Wen did—

"Can you NOT be satiated with Magical Beasts? Do they not possess essence, vitality and mana? Since when did the Void specialise in cannibalism? You think the PLA will leave you alone after that?"

"I could... maybe..." The impeccable logical scaffold constructed by Magister Wen floundered under Jun's assault.

"But knowledge is a necessity. Knowledge is control, especially as it may not be possible to avoid your condition," Jun continued. "I think there is a compromise here. I'll speak with mother, and we'll figure something out. Get your puzzle piece, Gwen. A man will die. But Magister Wen will also know she can't just walk all over you."

Gwen felt a fuzzy feeling in her chest. It was nice to know that her uncle cared. She had not experienced that in her old world; not even a liberal dose of Cipralex could dispel her anxiety so readily.

"So, here's what I am proposing," Jun folded his arms. "After your End of Semester exams, you and I are going on a little trip."

"A trip? Where to?"

"An undisclosed region outside the capital city, a little way from Anhui, a Purple Zone."

"Oh?"

"Have you heard of the Huangshan Mountains before?"

Gwen nodded. The 'Yellow Mountain' was one of China's five great mountain ranges, famed for its cloud-covered precipices jutting out from the cloud bank into the heavens. With its unusually high tree line, the mountain served as the visual inspiration for calligraphic silkscreen paintings.

"Good, then you should know that a Yinglong roams those ranges."

"I didn't know that," she confessed, then added embarrassingly. "What's a Yinglong?"

Jun chuckled.

"In the Analects of the Mountain and the Seas, Gou-Pu described the Yinglong as a creature of up to seven Li long. It is one of the first Chinese Dragons, most famous for his service to the Yellow Emperor, aiding him in the Battle of Zhuolu when he fought against the tyrannical Spirit King Chiyou. Named the _Great Responding Dragon,_ the __ Yinglong would create a great storm to flush out the Emperor's enemies. When the wind and rain deities, Feng Bo and Yu Shi, were causing problems, the Yellow Emperor summoned his daughter, the Drought Goddess, Ba, to silence them, allowing the Yinglong to unleash a storm. In the capture of Chiyou, the Yinglong hate him."

"That sounds mystical." Gwen couldn't help but feel her uncle wasn't very realistic. Then again, she reminded herself that Amuldj was accurately 'several Li' long. "What are we going to do?"

"Not be eaten by the Yinglong, hopefully," Jun laughed. "I will give you some training, and you will discover a detour away from your current conundrum."

"How so?"

"Well, Dragons are wanton creatures of lust, see, and when they inhabit a mountain region—"

"They have sex with everything!" Gwen blurted out, having heard it from her Bestiary trainer, Hufei.

Now it was Jun's turn to look flustered.

"Well, yes, very good." Her uncle coughed. "We'll go to Huangshan and get you some dragon babies."

"You expect me to dance the _horizontal_ tango with a Yinglong?" Gwen gulped, wondering where this was going. Could a human even become the concubine of a Yinglong? _What a suggestion!_ Is she going to return to Shanghai bearing an egg of some sort? Gods! How does the physiology of that sort of thing even work? _Is there a Polymorph involved?_ Her voice took on a keener edge. Not even Amuldj would—Ergh! Unthinkable! "I don't think I am willing to go that far..."

Jun stared at his niece for several awkward seconds, then broke into a rip-roaring snort of laughter.

"Uncle Jun…"

"No, you silly goose!" Jun rapped Gwen across the forehead. "We're going poaching!"

"P-poaching?"

"Yes!" Jun snorted. "The Dragon's Essence infuses everything that walks, swims, and flies, right? To use some Western Spellcraft terminology, the Yinglong is specifically a Dragon of the air, water, and positive energy! You get me?"

"Blue Dragon spawns!" Gwen realised what Jun was suggesting.

"Indeed!" Jun chuckled. "You and I, we're going to try and find you a Lightning Spirit! And collect Lightning Creature Cores! There's a whole mountain of spawns there. They're a plague!"

"Is it safe to hunt them?"

"Of course not!" Jun laughed. "Very dangerous, but I'll convince Mother one way or another. She'll see the need for it. In my opinion, Lightning should be your primary-Element. Let Void be supplementary. Some of the most powerful Magi in history were Lightning Battlemages."

"But, the chances of finding a Spirit is so slim." Gwen wanted to say that they could be killing hundreds of Draconic spawns, and it wouldn't be strange not to see a single Core, much less a Spirit. Not to mention a significant battle would surely attract the Yinglong.

"Oh ho ho." Jun reached into his shirt and pulled out a familiar-looking heirloom keepsake.

Gwen's eyes widened.

The second half of the Kirin Pendant!

"There'll be no luck needed to find some Cores." Jun grinned, showing the whites of his teeth. "All we need to do is survive."

"I see." Gwen's voice shivered. "A third path."

Her father's smiling face gazed back at Gwen, sending her bosoms aflutter with unspeakable emotions.

"Who says that the Void is be-all and end-all? Why not build yourself up to oppose this Elizabeth Sobel with the one thing that would counter her? Why not...how do you say this? The Second Coming of Thor? The Nordic God of Lighting?"

"It's the Second Coming of the Nazarene," Gwen couldn't stop smiling.

Her chest rose and fell with anticipation. With a longing that she didn't know existed, Gwen reached out and took Jun's rough fingers in her palm.

"I'll do it! Uncle Jun!" she proclaimed with bright eyes glowing with renewed faith for her Path ahead.

She violently stabbed the cake with her fork.

"For dragon babies! I'll do anything!"


Gwen promised Jun to keep the entirety of Week 14 of the semester open. Her final was in Week 13, mid-September. After that, she could be away with Jun on their Elemental poaching adventure.

What remained then was seven more weeks of the academic term: that and Gwen's impending trial by fire with the prisoner.

As for her impending trial-by-murder, that morbid reality remained immutable. As a future Battle Mage, Gwen couldn't risk becoming burdened by unknowns when the wellbeing of loved ones was at stake. She was thankful then that Jun's offer had offered a detour. If nothing else, the inhumane methodology required to feed her talent was no longer an albatross strung across her chest.

At the same time, her euphoria was joined by despondency. In taking uncle Jun's guiding hand, she couldn't help but be reminded that neither her father nor mother had enquired after her since the semester began. There were no surprises, but the silence cut like a rusty razor. Her parents—in this life or the last—remained carefree in pursuing their individual happiness. As an adult, she couldn't blame them for that. Wasn't she also reaching out for that orgiastic green light across the bay? She was going so far as to murder a man to see how her brain ticked.

When she returned to the apartment, Petra's lights were out.

Gwen hovered by the door apologetically for a few seconds, then left. She would rather not trouble Petra if Magister Wen was buttressing her agendas behind her and their babulya's backs. Her cousin's loyalties would be unnecessarily conflicted, especially as she already had a history with another Master in Moscow. If Petra should abandon yet another instructor, it was unlikely she would ever be apprenticed by a third. As Jun said, Magister Wen provided a service, and Gwen provided materials. It was an even trade. She was fine so long as she did not misunderstand that their relationship extended beyond give and take.

She wondered what Wen thought of Petra.

Would the old academic risk her life to shelter her Mineral Magic apprentice?

Gwen struggled out of her casual clothes and slipped into bed, sliding between the silken sheets.

"One Evee... two Evee... three..."

After a night of staring at the ceiling, she finally felt the coming on of blissful, restful sleep.

Kusu stared at the twenty-odd implements in front of him.

"How?!"

"I don't know," Gwen confessed, making a hugging motion with her arms. "I squeezed Caliban real hard, and… there they were."

"Brother! What a fortunate outcome!" Lulan gushed beside her sibling, hugging the young man's arm.

Gwen had met the duo in Mayuree's apartment, where she presented the loot of crystals from Nephres to her four companions.

Kitty took her share of the 1400 HDMs without blinking, swiping her hand across the stash and dematerialising the cards with absolute certainty.

Mayuree refused, saying she really had no need for HDMs, that it was barely pocket-change to her. When Gwen insisted, she threatened to spend it all on shoes unless she or the siblings were willing to partake in her generosity.

More arguments ensued, each party trying to outdo the other in modesty.

In the end, Gwen split the surplus three ways, giving herself, Richard and Lulan 1860 HDMs per head. Kitty looked as though she was going to speak up about 'her' share of the surplus, but a frown from Mayuree turned her intentions awry, leaving her sulking by the window.

"Thank you!" Lulan couldn't believe that she, the troublemaker, would receive such a generous portion of the spoils. "Thank all of you!"

"This means we can take up the vacancy in Building 14," Kusu added with immense relief. "Your aid couldn't have come at a better time."

"Lulan did all the hard work." Gwen pictured the two scenes of carnage leading in and out of the tunnel section. The expression on the Abjurer's face as Lulan crushed his Shield and sent his head flying was an unneeded Kodak moment. "B-14? That's close to us. Nicely done."

Lulan beamed.

Kusu incanted something under his breath, and the daggers began to float.

Was it magnetism? Gwen wondered. Or was it a combination of Levitation and some other secret magic algorithm? She had read that there was a Transmutation spell called Dancing Blade at tier 4, which allowed one to command an unattended blade to attack, parry, and defend on its own. Perhaps Kusu's Huashan Sword Magic was akin to this phenomenon.

"Still works!" Kusu announced, his face relaxing. "Thank you, Miss Song."

"Just Gwen," Gwen insisted. "Caliban did Consume your other daggers. Maybe they're in there, somewhere."

"What you have returned is already several months of my work," Kusu bowed, then little sheepishly, he added a 'Gwen'. "I wouldn't dream of demanding more than that. Whatever else Caliban can... retrieve, I leave it entirely to its discretion."

Kusu was an unusual Clanner. Gwen nodded at the young man's diplomacy. Losing him was most definitely a bad deal for Huashan.

With the siblings taken care of, it was time for her to attend her classes again. If there was an unexpected benefit to Magister Wen's leeching of her Void matter, it was the loss of her healer's aura. Now bereft of her excess vitality, she could resume life as Petra's 'hot cousin' and not a fount of wellbeing that drew eyes like a second sun.

"I am off!" she informed the others, turning on her flats and calling for her Familiars. "Message me if anything comes up."

The others, Kitty notwithstanding, waved goodbye to Gwen's much-improved mood.

Conjuration was first, with Birch directing Gwen and her Familiars to their usual place in the front row.

"Gwen!" Lily, her fellow Conjurer, hailed her from across the room. "Wait up!"

"Hi guys," Gwen greeted Lily and Pu of the unfortunate homophone, her peers from Evocation doing a double Major in Conjuration.

"How're the Districts? I am thinking of taking Management next semester."

"Quite the adventure!" Gwen beamed at her acquaintances. "I'll tell you about it after, over luncheon. I am starving already, haha."

"Are you okay?" Pu's eyes ran over her new fashion statement. For the summer, Gwen had layered up in a floral summer dress covered by a nice cream cardigan. Unfortunately, unless she went heavy on foundation, there was no covering up her bruised eye bags and pale, bloodless lips.

"Not enough iron," Gwen explained casually, dismissing Pu's concern. "Nothing a good steak and veg can't fix."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Shaa!" Caliban nodded at the two.

"Hi, Cali." Lily patted it on the head. Pu kept his distance.

"Eeee!" Ariel whinnied.

Lily took the marten with her hands and hugged it to her chest.

"Ohhh! So cute!" The girl looked rapturously happy.

"Take a seat. Magister Birch is starting." Gwen moved her familiars to her left as the other two sat.

Birch soon assumed his place on the podium.

"Welcome back, students." Birch did his usual walk around the elevated platform of the lecture theatre, scanning over the sixty-odd students with his eyes until his gaze rested on Gwen. "We will now begin our new topic: Teleportation Circles."

"In our earlier lessons, we discussed the problems of translocation. For the next four weeks, we will discuss the single most important use of Conjuration—transporting Mages and other personnel throughout Human territories."

"There currently exist THREE forms of Teleportation: 'Personal' 'Assisted' and 'Powered.' Personal teleportation involves translocation by Line of Sight; this includes spells such as Blink from the Transmutation School, or Dimension Door, from the Conjuration School. Upon manifesting the arcane phenomenon, the Mage is moved through the Astral Plane from one location to another with relative accuracy."

"Assisted Teleportation is translocation assisted by Divination, typically a skill acquired by Translocation Specialists, requiring a rudimentary knowledge of the School of Divination. By tapping into the Divination towers' loc-by-loc triangulation, the caster can pinpoint a location for the Spell to manifest. Recall your Ludwin-Clarkson formulae: the cost of translocation is proportional to the distance and the baseline cost of invocation. Make a note." Birch paused for the students to catch up. "In areas without Divination Towers meaning non-human controlled regions—you will require a Diviner in your party to Teleport to unmarked locations. If you lack a Diviner, this can be offset by employing a Ranger Class operative. Typically, this is a Transmuter with Polymorph or an Illusionist with Improved Invisibility, who can plant translocation beacons."

"Finally, Powered Teleportation such as that used by the Inter-State Teleportation Circle, commonly abbreviated as the ISTC—are connected by Long-Range Divination Stations. Rather than using the Mage's mana, these Circles are empowered by HDM stores embedded within the mandala. Access to ISTC stations is heavily restricted, typically only utilised for military troop movement, or with a permit to visit other countries and inter-city Towers."

Gwen herself made a note to learn Teleportation Circle as soon as possible. The utility of the Spell felt endless. If she could utilise her jack-of-all-trades talents, she could provide the party with the means of offence, defence, and extraction. All she had to do was pick up some formal training in rudimentary Divination about the Message spells and the use of the Divination Towers.

"Now, the intricacies of the Teleportation Circle."

Gwen's ears perked up.

"... The baseline mandala, available from the public library, is the Ludwin-Clarkson octogramic containment circulation glyph. The preceding layers vary from caster to caster, though usually, we use a stabilisation glyph as such—see here—and insert transfusion circles at the fourth layer—and here—at the inner circle—creating a circuit that allows for the consumption of HDMs placed within the axis."

The sound of pens scratching parchment and slate filled the lecture hall.

When Birch finished, Gwen realised that using the Spell as a combat tactic was a bit of wishful thinking. The original template of the Spell was exceptionally fragile and easily disrupted. It also took two to three minutes to attune every individual beyond the inscriber of the circle. It meant that though she could insert allies into a combat zone, she couldn't extract people without someone holding down the fort.

When she raised her hand and asked the question, Birch answered that usually, an Abjurer formed a protective layer of Shields and Walls around the surrounded or besieged party. At the same time, the Translocation Conjurer worked on transporting the party to a safe location.

"Are there better variants of the Teleportation Circle?" Gwen asked.

"My personal Teleportation Circle can be attained for 55 CCs," Birch answered her question with a twinkle in his eye. "It takes three-quarters of the time to prepare a companion for translocation, and it has a built-in Shielding glyph which your Abjurer can personally empower. For students in my Course, there is a discount. The Spell is usually traded for 64 Contribution Credits."

Gwen blinked.

Despite Birch's dandy outfit and perfectly groomed beard, was he a miser? Teleportation Circle is a custom Tier 5 Spell! Not mangos at the market! Doesn't he feel embarrassed hawking his discounted spells to his students?

The lecture ended with Birch approaching Gwen and asking if her grandmother had asked after him. When she replied with a definite no, the Magister smiled bleakly, leaving her with her peers.

"Something going on with Magister Birch and your family?" Lily was a gossiper at heart.

"Nothing worthwhile, just an old pair of alumna and alumni waxing sentimental," Gwen replied offhandedly to offset any suspicion, not wanting to start any troublesome rumours. "Gran's past 60, you know. I think Magister Birch might be mid-sixties. It's the age when people get nostalgic about their youth."

Lily nodded wisely.

Pu shrugged.

"So." Gwen touched a hand to her growling abdomen, feeling hollowed out after just four hours. "Lunch?"

Evocation class.

On the practice fields, Magus Carol Young gave out the students' grades from the prior week, each report attached with a personal memorandum of advice.

"Good control, limited AOE potential, recommendation on acquiring a low-level 400 - 800 CC Spirit ASAP. More Adventuring and practicum experience should provide an increase in the performance index. Rank 47 / 302."

'A-' was the grade Magus Young gave her performance, a few tiers shy of 'S'.

The comment continued at the back. "Gwen. As irresponsible as it is for me to suggest that you should 'simply' acquire a Spirit, I must stress that the ability to direct your attacks with IFF is central to Lightning Magic due to its inherent volatility. Once you reach tier 5, keynote Spells such as Blast Wave become severely limited without an ability to Spell-shape, either learned or supernatural. Once you reach tier 6 and gain the signature spell of the Lightning talent—Chain Lightning—IFF is essential if you wish to use it pragmatically in the field. Work up some CCs in the next 24 months as your tiers develop, putting out a Tower notice for a Lightning Spirit. You will be consigned to the Artillery Unit without this gift, limiting your immense potential."

Though the lecturer was relentless in delivering her lessons, she offered sterling advice. That said, Magus Young did not account for Gwen's Conjuration, nor did her Void talent. Unsure of what she should show, Gwen had so far chosen not to demonstrate her alt-element, though her instructor was likely aware of it.

Gwen wondered what Young would say if she told her that she had an _accident_ over the weekend. Now she was tier 4 in Evocation, and in the future, there may be more incidents where she may very quickly come into possession of those tiers that her peers may take up to a decade to master.

However, Young was right. The prospect of large-scale AOEs, especially when exercised with Identify-Friend-Foe, greatly appealed to her limitations.

In the other half of the lesson, Magus Young continued to extol the virtues of possessing a Spirit. She explained that failing to make an A for most students was due to Friendly-Fire in a Danger Close situation. There was little point in having enough firepower to wipe out a building if one's collateral damage would kill more humans than they could save from a Demi-human or Magical creature infestation.

"Allow me to provide you with an anecdote," the Magus explained. "During the Sinai conflict, the Egyptian Jackal Cult deployed a forbidden spell _, Corpse Scarabs,_ which quickly bred out of control due to the absurd volume of carrion left by both sides. Israeli execution of the Temple Necromancer further devolved the situation into anarchy. The Scarabs bore into the carcass of the fallen or buried themselves underground, then emerged months later as a voracious swarm that could blacken the sky."

"These _free_ Scarabs covered enemies, allies, everything and everyone when they attacked. In the end, the Tower brought in a Spirit-attuned Fire Magister. This rare individual, with the help of the Israeli Heavy-Golem 4th Division, managed to thin out the swarm enough for it to be dispersed, as well as decimate the enemy troops."

A few more anecdotes of the battlefield followed before the lecture ended.

"In Week 9, I, as well as a member of the PLA 22nd Aerial Division, will offer a demonstration. For those of you currently in possession of Spirits, you will be asked to participate with the instructors. That is all. Dismissed."

Gwen left Evocation full of anticipation of her upcoming Wildland foray with her uncle.

Refreshed with new funds, she treated herself to a buffet of Wildland cuts and vegetables at Uni-Rd Korean BBQ, reducing the proprietor to tears.

When she finally finished, feeling 'full', watched by the waiters and waitresses with stunned expressions, Gwen left a tip of 5 HDMs: 2 to cover the extra food and 3 to help the waitstaff overcome the trauma of seeing Caliban coiled beneath the table.

Thinking of Magus Young's advice as she walked home with her familiars, she made a note to pay a visit to the Guanghua Towers to check on new potential spells for her spell list. Even with her monthly deductions from the LRC Device hire, she still had 93 CCs remaining, plus whatever Jun could rope up for her from the Choi incident. Her savings meant she could potentially purchase four to five new Spells at Tier 4 or one to two at Tier 5.

Utility or more offensive options?

Or perhaps, she could train up her Transmutation to gain Flight?

The night was young, and her stomach was full. Petra should be home soon. There, they could mull over her Spell-list slowly over a nice pot of ginger-lime Tisane.


“You’ve tiered up?”

Instructor Chen’s abilities of observation were sharp as a tack.
The moment Caliban completed the obstacle course, ignoring the howling summoned creatures, delicious treats and abrupt stimuli, he had confronted her with the question. When Gwen's usually disobedient Death Worm wiggled, crawled, and squeezed itself through to next stage, Chen knew he was right.

“Yessir,” Gwen replied with a toothy grin.

“Too fast. You'll ruin your foundation.” Chen furrowed his brows, screwing up his face until she could see a dozen lines on his weathered face. “What’re you taking for supplements? Nothing illicit I hope. One should never pull up rice-sprouts to hasten the harvest. No good can come of that.”

Bloody oath, the man was keener than a razor, Gwen reflected with renewed respect. Supplements? She wondered how Chen would react if she told him that she took her steroids in human sacrifice.

“Nothing of the sort Sir. I had a lot of help from Magister Wen, and I am training diligently.” Gwen hoped her vapid innocence was enough to deflect the Instructor’s suspicion.

“Baagh,” Chen grunted, clicking his stopwatch. He checked her Sustenance Band. “At any rate, keep your Familiars manifested. You’ve got six odd weeks to pass the course. Remember, seven days straight.”

“Yessir.”

“Look, if you’re doing as well as you’re proposing, sign up for the Frontlines during the Winter Break, head up north and rack up some CCs. There’s no replacement for real combat experience. Don’t waste your talent by becoming one of those greenhouse ‘geniuses’ who are useless in the field.”

Gwen was inclined to agree.
Her precarious planning and subsequent inflexibility when dealing with Lulan’s sudden intrusion spoke loudly of her need for more experience. If the District episode proved anything, it was that the more she wished to do things ‘her way,’ the more foretelling her tactical decision needed to be.

Not far from where she conversed with Instructor Chen, Eunae stood by her doe, ready to unsummon her forest-sprite, Luyi, should Caliban's docility proved to be a farce.

Over the weeks, except for Wanli, the prideful Lighting Hawk who thought itself leagues above the rest, the other Familiars had formed a sort of social club. Ariel and Caliban weren’t at the level of intelligence to possess speech with their human Master, but their ‘Shaaa!’ and ‘Eeee!’ could be partially comprehended by the other Spirit-familiars such as Ahu, the Fire-Tiger, or Feifei, the Water-Crane.

Watching the Familiars make their adorable sounds at one another reminded Gwen of doggy-daycares where hounds as diminutive as Ariel and as enormous as Ahu socialised through barks, whines, and growls.

“Gwen.” Lu approached the student and instructor with his majestic hawk perched above his shoulder.

God damn. Too cool. Gwen sighed at her peevish saltiness, observing Wanli with the same discrimination that Lu observed Gwen in her tank-top and denim skirt. What she wouldn't do to get a piece of that lightning Spirit, Gwen pouted. Why it looked so charismatic that she could just run her fingers through its electric feathers. Gwen pictured Wanli lifting off her shoulders. Or, she could be riding a horse, and while galloping, Wanli could alight on her arm! In the Wildlands, she could have the hawk scout from up on high while sending her a stream of intelligence, making trivial the positioning of monsters and enemies so long as her Familiar had a clean LOS.

“Hi Lu, how was your weekend?”

“Good, very good. Brother Dai held a gathering at the Four Seasons, lots of families and heirs. He would have loved it if you could have attended as well.”

“I was rather preoccupied I am afraid.” Gwen smiled affably. “Tell Dai I said hello.”

“Will do.” Lu tried his best to prolong their small talk. “How’s training for Caliban coming along?”

“Grudgingly.” Gwen studied the young man, watching his eyes dart about her body subtlely. She couldn't help but notice that Lu seldom liked to meet her eyes while they conversed. He preferred to focus on her chin, her navel, or her legs. Curiously, Kusu adopted the same body language. She wondered if they were indeed that uncomfortable speaking to her, or if there were some ingrained social-cultural aspects at play. What she’d heard from Pu and Lily one time, was that within the Clans, acting in accordance to hierarchy was absolute; eye-levelling inferred one was speaking with an equal.

Was she then Lu's superior? Why was Lu, the possessor of a Spirit of Lightning, afraid of her?

Gwen thought of Dai, and how the young man had tried to 'have a go at her' only to be beaten back like an obtrusive dog panting at her heels. She hoped the quick-witted young man didn’t hold a grudge. As the sole male heir of the Police Commissioner and by that extension, one of the most influential power progenies she had met, he could easily complicate matters while demanding unsavoury favours.

Certainly, she couldn't imagine life would have been easy for her if Dai had pursued the matter.

As well connected her babulya and Magister Wen might be, she couldn't envision the two of them confronting the city’s most prominent para-military civil servant to complain about harassment. The matter would be resolved, of course, but it would be lose-lose for all parties, with 'face' lost all-around and grudges becoming embedded.

That Dai had not contacted her again, nor made his presence known except through Lu, spoke loudly of the young man’s intelligence and the comfort by which he navigated the upper-echelon of society.

Thinking of the 'favour' Dai still owed her, she recalled that Lu too had immediately apologised to Chen after his beatdown by the Instructor’s Magma-Salamander. Whatever it is they’re teaching the kids in the Clan of Fung, it was a damn sight more useful than whatever education the other Clanners were receiving for high-society.

Caliban finished sizing up Luyi, gave it a lick with a tentacled tongue, then returned to Gwen.

“Gods, I am starving.” Gwen felt hollowed out by the three-hour lesson between breakfast and lunch. “Eunae, you up for some Sushi?”

“Sure,” the Korean girl pipped up. She had made good progress with her doe. Luyi was now no longer running off without her express consent, even when troubled by Caliban, though that may be because the Conjurer herself was acclimatising to the presence of her ‘Mongolian Death Worm’.

After offending Eunae with her gluttony, Gwen paid for lunch, then left for Advanced Spell Shaping.

I better save my Tower Visit for Wednesday, Gwen mentally rescheduled her imaginary calendar. This food business that she’d thought under control was taking up more time than she had imagined. Gwen wondered if any of the instructors would consent to her snacking in class.

The cost of her almost exclusively mana-rich diet was nearly 70 HDMs a week, a price unimaginable to her Blackwattle peers in Sydney. As for her inventory, Gwen knew she was just shy of 3000 HDMs. She was also in possession of an assortment of potions and raw crystals that could be traded in for another 1000 or so.

Still, she promised herself that she should investigate a sustainable source of passive income to feed her growing appetite.

An appetite that may grow more exorbitant yet, unless of course, she could alternatively afford a steady diet of living things large and small…

Advanced Spellshaping.

Magister Michio Lee had on a shirt so tightly that his toned pectorals strained at the buttons.

As per usual, a gaggle of giggling university girls sat at the front row, well away from Gwen's serpent and her marten and as close as humanly possible to the handsome, wealthy and talented Magister, whose jawline possessed an animus of its own.

One reason for the girl’s audible panting, Gwen could reasonably guess, was for the Magister’s choice of a narrow-waisted, closely tailored attire. The summer air outside was unbearably sticky and hot, and the Magister’s urbane choice of clothing served his triangular figure well.

With his horn-rimmed glasses, Michio reminded Gwen of an Asian Clark Kent. One whose ego could probably bend steel.

In a way, Michio reminded her a little of Gunther. Both were hyper-competent, though Gunther, either because of his Germanic heritage or his time in Australia, had a laconic cool and ease of confidence which superseded Michio’s peacocking.

Returning from Mid-Semester break, Magister Lee continued his instruction of theorems which would ultimately, Gwen guessed, lead to the third year courses that deconstructed existing Magical theory in favour of free-form doctrines drawing from multiple sources, including that of Demi-human magic.

“… Which brings us to the nature of hybrid magic, the most common of which, not surprisingly, is the Conjuration-Evocation ‘Biomancy’ used by Clerics. As I have annotated in Week 4, the existing schools of Magic are pigeon-holed by current proven theory. Though spells utilised Major Incantations specific to their Sigil; many are in fact, supported by minor incantations tied to auxiliary Schools of Magic. For example - in Heal Moderate Wounds - Conjuration provides the matter, while Evocation supplies the power. In advanced healing spells such as the tier 6 Full Heal or the tier 7 Regenerate, Transmutation provides precision.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Let's go back a little further. The Clerical - Or I should say, the 'Healing Talent' - is tracible back to antiquity. In the Classical Era, when Magic was beginning to be discovered by humanity, 'healing' was the most useful and revered School of Magic. Among the recorded history of Spellcraft, healing spells remain the most preserved 'School' of Magic in existence. Not only that, the Big Three of the Apothecary Colleges: Nightingale, The Acropolis, and The Hospitallers of Saint John, have never withheld knowledge from other like-minded institutes. This is why we have the Clerical Class. It shows that truly, for Spellcraft to exceed its current state, knowledge should be disseminated!”

A few scoffs resonated from the back row. Gwen knew those to be the Clanners, who, as a fraternity, always sat together.

Lee ignored them.

“What most of you are not aware of, seeing that Healers have their hyper-specialised training, is that the Clerical School is a mixture of the common schools of Magic, with each spell tailored for those with the Positive Energy Talent. It is living proof that anyone could attain different Schools of Magic. Bless is an Enchantment based Spell. Healing Word is Evocation. Protection from Disease and Poison is Abjuration. Guardian of Faith is both Abjuration and Conjuration, and so on.”

Michio Lee paused on the podium for dramatic effect.

“What if I told you that one of the most important spells of the Clerical School - Revivify - is a form of Necromancy?”

Shocked murmurs rang through the classroom.
Even Gwen felt the hair stand on the back of her neck.

“Ha! Yes! Though Necromancy is banned, many of our most stable Clerical Spells are indeed, Positive Energy variations of their Necromantic foundation-spells! You think Resurrection, one of our most precious spells, is Evocation?! No!”

Michio Lee appeared to enjoy watching his students chatter nervously. His lectures were as melodramatic as they were opinionated.

“Shocked? Don't be! What I am telling you is common knowledge. All you have to do is keep digging and keep reading. Necromancy, in the end, is just another form of Spellcraft. It's not the knowledge we fear, it's those who use it to nefarious ends! No, no! Quieten down! There is no need to fear censure. Mr Hong! I said DOWN! We'll have none of that in my lecture. Most of you, the vast majority of you, will never have the chance to have Resurrection performed upon you. The exception among you would be…”

Michio’s eyes scanned the crowd.

“You - you - and you…”

The crowd followed Michio’s fingers through the multitude of faces.
Individuals pointed out by the attention seeking Magister either straightened their spines proudly or hid their profiles with their notes. Lu Fung with his spirit, Wanli, was among those indicated. Finally, Magister Lee’s eyes fell upon the front row, where the girls held their breath.

“…and you, most of all.”

A hundred or more pairs of eyes converged on Lee’s final target.

Gwen wondered if she could have grabbed Ariel and used its furry body to cover her face as a ferret-beard. There was no point though. Petra's cousin with the 'monster' was an official campus exhibition. One did not bring a Mongolian Deathworm into class without becoming the ire of every student who either broke out in peevish jealousy or who felt slighted at her preferential treatment by Magister Lee.

“Of course, there are problems with our pedestrian variety of Resurrection. Unless one looked to true Necromancy used by the Death-Cults, the Resurrection of the Clerical School suffered from many flaws, the chief of which is the partial loss of one’s Astral Body. At best, you’ll retain your sanity and lose half of your powers and talents. At worst, you could be resurrected as a drooling idiot.”

Magister Lee amusedly looked over at Gwen with great interest, making her unconsciously tug lower the hem of her dress. His gaze then shifted to the back row, to the Clanners.

“What the degradation doesn’t impact, of course, is one’s ability to pass on, or engender the next generation of uniquely talented Mages. That's the prime reason why you, Mr Hong, would likely be resurrected. Useless as you are, you'll make an acceptable stud for your relatives.”

An uproar rang out over the lecture hall.

Lee shot back a derisive snort of laughter.

“So take good care of yourself!” Lee announced loudly, looking pleased with his performance and the student’s reactions. “Don’t die! Resurrection is a fool's game!"

"Dismissed!"

Wednesday.

Gwen suffered through Supplementary Conjuration with Magus Kumiko, dizzy with hunger.

She had slept through the alarm and as such, had to forgo breakfast for a glass of cold milk and lukewarm coffee. At first, she felt fine, feeling confident she could fight the hunger. By the second hour, her agitation had transferred to Caliban, who was going around tasting everything from the floorboards to the door handle, to other Conjurers who fled from the obsidian worm in alarm.

"I need to eat," Gwen confessed to her instructor. "I need something right now."

“I can help, but...” Magus Kumiko offered to feed Caliban after the lesson.

“I'm going to grab a bite real quick,” Gwen replied vaguely. “I'll be alright. I'll be back if I am able.”

Gwen barged through the door of the training hall.
Magus Kumiko wanted to give chase, but she had twenty students waiting on her help and instruction.

Outside, Gwen forced herself to endure the five famished minutes it took to walk back to the apartment.

The hunger, for the lack of a better word, could be split into two distinct stages. The first was a feeling of hunger that could be attributed to a physical sensation of desiring nourishment and fulfilment. It was equal parts physiological and psychological, a sensation which Gwen knew well from her earlier days fooling around with low-tier Void spells. It wasn’t so much reliance as it was a need, a desire for sustenance rooted in the instinct for survival. This psychosomatic component was something she could consciously combat, subdue with her force of will. Growing up being taught by her mother that appearance was paramount, she wasn't a stranger to crash diets.

Beyond the 'conscious' strata of the Freudian iceberg was the incessant mewling of a subconsciousness demanding to be satiated. Gwen was beginning to learn first hand the unpleasant aphorism that hunger could change everything one thought one knew about oneself.

“Lei! Can you make me some chow real quick? Something hot and filling?” Gwen stumbled into Mayuree’s apartment to see a shocked Lei, who was cleaning the place. "Just give me something, anything, Lei... quick."

While on the levitation platform, she had thought about materialising a packet of instant noodles, chomping straight into the snap-dried gluten. That or open a can of the ten or so allotments of Spam in her Ring. It was only the thought of Lei's cooking that prevented her from becoming a culinary savage.

It took a least a few minutes to prepare a clarified-broth noodle soup, so Lei brought out the cold-cuts first. Gwen thought nothing of the fact that she was supposed to dump the toppings onto her soon to arrive hot noodles, digging in with a passion. Her tongue encountered the cold, hard meat first with delight and then disgust, the solidified fat and salt abrading her taste buds. When Lei returned with hot soup, Gwen was already half-way through a mana-rich length of braised Aurok, the unhappy and the happy meeting in her stomach in an all-consuming ecstasy.

“You’re going to choke!” Lei’s eyes were two wide orbs as Gwen took the noodle soup and almost dumped the scalding hot contents into her mouth.

Gwen's eyes went wide, almost as if a part of her was somewhere within watching her reflexive gluttony in horror. For a moment, watching Gwen cramming the butt of beef into her mouth and pressing her palm to her lips, Lei had thought Gwen was feeding on her own flesh.

“Miss Song!” Lei stepped forward worriedly, afraid that Gwen would somehow injure herself. What sudden madness had overcome her usually prudish self? Why was Gwen like this?

Then Gwen choked.

For such a slender woman, there was only so much food Gwen could orally engulf at once. When finally she swallowed, she felt the gnashing of her organs storming against the furious hunger as though two Magisters galling one another with fire and ice.

“Water…” Gwen pounded the table.

Lei returned with a jug and a glass.

Gwen drank, then felt a sudden upheaval.
She ran toward the open kitchen, grabbing the bin, then hurled her guts into the metallic can.

“Shaaa!” Caliban slithered toward her crouched form and nudged her sides.

“Eeee! Eeee!” Ariel ran in circles, screeching worriedly.

Lei became so alarmed and frightened that she promptly dialled Mayuree with the self-powered Messenger Device in the living room.

When Mayuree dodged her next class and arrived some ten minutes later, she was looking at an exhausted Gwen, makeup smeared and clothes soiled, nursing a jug of hot water against the kitchen bench.

“Mao! Are you alright? Should I call your grandmother?”

“No, no… I am fine, Mia. I am fine now, really.”

Lei had been kind enough to heat up some plain porridge, which blunted the worst of it.

Gwen had spent the last few minutes trying to convince herself that it wasn't a total loss. There was a lesson here - when suffering from supernatural hunger; do not consume solid food. Soup, congee, porridge, gruel, meals which were easy to consume in large amounts as well as being gentle on the stomach was vital.

“God, you’re a mess.” Mayuree didn’t know what to do with herself. She wanted to help her friend but had no experience looking after anyone or anything. “Lei, help Gwen to the bathroom and help her wash.”

“I am good, just get me to the apartment,” Gwen insisted.

“Are you drunk? Did you get drugged?” Mayuree asked the crucial questions.

“Likely an aftereffect of the Friday event.” Gwen pointed out. “I've been experimenting with my limits, with Magister Wen and my Babulya.”

“Oh.” Mayuree now appeared even more concerned.

“There’ll be a resolution on Saturday,” Gwen stated a half-truth. “After that, everything should be fine for the foreseeable future.”

“Of course,” Mayuree replied, clearly disbelieving Gwen’s assertion. “Let’s get you to your room first.”

Gwen struggled off the barstool.

Aided by Lei and supported by Mayuree, the trio deposited Gwen into her bathroom. Lei helped Gwen out of her soiled clothes while Mayuree waited in the living room. The NoM servant wiped her down, then left as Gwen showered.

When Gwen emerged in a new t-shirt and shorts, Mayuree breathed a sigh of relief.

“Goddess, don’t scare me like that.” She glanced upward to appeal toward some unseen force, as though issuing an apostrophe in a play.

“I didn’t know you were religious.” Gwen seemed amused by the fact.

“It’s an old custom from home - when we had a home,” Mayuree answered melancholically. “The worship of mythical beings is not banned there.”

As to where 'home' was, Mayuree hasn’t been forthcoming; though she did extend an invitation for Gwen to visit during Winter Break.

That was the only clue Gwen had gotten from the girl regarding the origins of the House of M. A lost country, perhaps, or a destroyed township, was Gwen’s guess. A displaced people, seeking to return home.

If her hypothesis was correct, then Mayuree’s family may be another example of the mass diaspora experienced by those who lived on or near the Frontier. Everytime a human region fell, all the Mages, NoMs, Clans and Houses had to find a new home. Often, the survival of the bloodline did not naturally imply the continuation of a Clan or House. Sometimes, the loss of things, of homes, and of land, was enough to diminish a people so significantly that they ceased to exist within a few generations.

Gwen applied the addendum to her Mayuree memory-logs, then fell onto the couch exhausted.

Training was out, but she’d hoped to visit the Tower still.

“You should rest,” Mayuree suggested, touching a hand to her forehead.

“No rest for the wicked.” Gwen smiled weakly.

In the end, thanking Mayuree and Lei profusely, she convinced the duo to leave her alone so she could nap. After a short shut-eye, she snacked on some Spam Toast, then departed for the Guanghua Towers. She needed sustenance, but more than anything, she needed a constant source of distraction from the idle fantasies of the Saturday only three days away.