When enough of his faculty returned, Percy Song found himself near the outskirts of the Lake District encircling the Liu Estate.

Taking a moment to gather himself, he surveyed his surroundings.

He was in an old, abandoned place of worship, possibly Taoist, maybe Buddhist or Confucian, for the decrepitude of the ancient pagoda made it impossible to know. There was a half-shattered statue of a headless figure lying on its side, but the visage of the Chinese Gods, with their long flowing robes, was indecipherable to a boy who had grown up in Sydney.

There were bundles of straw strewn here and there, old newspaper, disposable cups and plates, and scrunched-up bags of spoiled food that reeked. A dozen baijiu bottles, empty, lay to the side.

An acrid scent of urine furthermore informed him that the dilapidated temple wasn't as abandoned as he had initially thought. However, it was certainly devoid of human presence at the moment.

But none of that bothered Percy, at least not now.

Touching a hand to his Kirin Amulet, Percy searched the spirit well within the Kirin Core like a man noodling for catfish in the muck. Usually, it was dormant, mingling with the collated Essences within Core, providing him with vitality and raw Spirit Essence for his training.

Other times, it seemed to take on a will of its own.

Whenever _it_ happened, Percy would be forced to flood the ritual with his Salt-tinged mana. He would ultimately succeed in subsuming the damned thing's Essence. But then he would be left OOM and vulnerable—a most undesirable set of circumstances, both for the present and the future.

It was the only way to ensure the amulet was _his_ and his _alone_.

The temple was foul and filthy, but there was no helping it.

"Thunder Wave!"

A ripple of clear mana blasted away the grime and debris from the centre of the room.

He listened for the sound of commotion or alarm.

_Good_. There was no one else.

Percy seated himself in front of the headless statue.

The Ritual of the Kirin's Blessing had four steps:

_Meditation._

_Harmonisation._

_Circulation._

_Absorption._

Percy crossed his legs, forming the lotus position, then took account of the last half an hour or so. Before beginning the Circulation phase, his mind must be harmonised and untroubled.

His quandary was that he had a full plate on his mind.

After all, his sister had summoned a Kirin.

Bloody Caliban was already a thrice-damned shapeshifting abomination, horrific enough to turn supporters away from his sister, but now she possessed a demi-god Spirit?

At first, he was unfazed. He had immediately recognised it as Gwen's Familiar. Despite its pseudo-Kirin appearance, its gait and that ubiquitous 'Eeee!' was a sight he had seen many times prior.

But as the battle climaxed, Gwen had injected her Familiar with a dose of what could only be described as the single most rarified Essence he had ever felt. Ariel's appearance changed from a Kirin-like creature to a semi-divine being.

Feeling a peevish ache in his bosom, a sense of self-loathing caught Percy in its grasp.

_Shouldn't he be happy for his sister?_ A voice had whispered from somewhere within his chaotic mind. Logic inferred that his sister's boon was his gain, that her growing influence served as his pillar of support, and that her mightiness would elevate his position.

But that would be lying to himself, and Percy was too smart to fool himself with benumbing platitudes.

The truth was simple enough—he was resentful.

Ever since Australia, a slow-building, gut-wrenching envy had culminated into deep-seated jealousy, an unshakable feeling that Gwen somehow usurped his destiny. Why wasn't he up there with the Kirin Familiar, battling it out with a famous Magus? Why hadn't Uncle Jun offered to take HIM into Huangshan? After all, Percy had a Kirin Pendant; he would be the bigger beneficiary by far.

High above on the stage, Gwen and Wonsoo exchanged spells.

Her emerald lightning then filled the duelling arena.

Concurrently, his Kirin Pendant had gone apeshit.

Percy couldn't think of another word to describe the sensation.

It was as though a Mage Hand had gripped the Kirin Core, tugged it from the red string around his neck, then made a bee-line straight for his sister's radiant presence.

Percy felt caught in the grasp of an unexplainable panic.

_FLEE!_

An unbidden thought flooded his adolescent faculties; a shoal of white water over a tidal flat. Turning away from the stage, he had fled, unseen and unnoticed, while all eyes were glued to the explosive forces unleashed between the duelists.

He bolted past the guards, who paid him no heed, then vaulted over the walls with a well-timed _Jump._

Thanks to his grandfather's gruelling training, he had gained steady mastery over simple, utilitarian Transmutation. When he hit the pavement outside, he buffed himself with Agility and Expeditious Retreat, then ran from the estate, pursued by the urgency of the burning pendant searing his flesh.

Upon reaching the edge of the West Lake, he dove into the thrush, hoping the frigid pool could temper the scalding stone.

But there was no hiss nor sizzle when he broke through the murky surface.

The heat had been an illusion—or perhaps more mockingly—a delusion.

Percy thumbed the cold exterior of the Kirin Core.

For a split second, he envisioned tearing it from his neck and hurling it into the dark water.

Percy's mind returned to the present.

_When had it all gone pear-shaped?_

Two years ago, he had watched his clueless sister go off on her Awakening Day at Blackwatte. She had returned home, distraught and confused, almost comically so, and told him that she was a Generalist.

_A Generalist!_

_What the FUCK?!_ She had to be shitting him!

He recalled that his pity had struggled to overwhelm his amusement and that it took everything he had to keep his face straight. Their mother had always stated sagely that Gwen's only worth was her face, and now his sister had splendidly proven their mother's prediction. Having attended a Selective High School, even at the tender age of thirteen, Percy knew better than anyone what awaited his sister—a loveless marriage; the bearing of children who would be her hope; amiable in-laws if she was lucky; an apathetic and neglectful husband if she was not.

He had promised himself that when he became a Magus in the Sydney Tower, he would help her out.

A few weeks later, he heard the shocking news that there had been a _mistake_ , and Gwen had awoken instead as a Lighting Evoker. The electrifying shift in her fortunes had caught Percy flatfooted, but he had felt happy for his sister, whose life could now take on a less tragic slant.

Then events began to happen around Gwen, seemingly without rhyme or reason, escalating without cessation.

Names Percy had only heard or seen on the Vid-casts began to circulate his sister's life. Alesia De Botton, Henry Kilroy, Gunther Shultz, men and women in positions that an adolescent Percy could not even begin to describe filled the rare conversations he held with Hai and Helena. Even their Opa, the weird old Patriarch who had been estranged from the House of Huang since Percy could speak, became obsessively fond of Gwen, going so far as to leave her his share of the estate, leaving Percy to eat dust.

That had been yet another shock to Percy, but one he could take in stride.

After all, there had been no expectation that their Opa would have left anything to his children, especially knowing the old man's vitriol toward his two ungrateful scions.

After that, the Mermen Leviathan crashed into Sydney Harbour.

His schooling at Prince's, his life in Sydney, and his future ended abruptly. Even his uncle, the arrogant Kwan, had lost everything to the city's sacking, forcing his prodigious cousin, Richard, to seek his chances elsewhere.

As for Percy, he had become disoriented and numb by the destruction. For weeks, he had followed his mother and stepfather without question.

Followed them like a zombie, not knowing what the future held.

But Lady Fortuna had other plans in store for him.

Suddenly, a grandfather he had never known existed made his presence known to Percy. Guo Song took Percy from the refugee hellhole that was Frontier Sydney and brought him to Shanghai, a tier 1 city.

He had also told Percy he would be heir to the House of Song.

His sister was in Shanghai too, but strangely, the old man loathed his sister with a passion Percy couldn't even begin to understand.

But no matter.

He was saved.

Orgiastic relief and joy swelled from Percy's heart and scoured every inch of his cankerous depression and doubt. Finally, he had found his place in the world; he could fill the shoes of promised destiny.

After that, he barely heard Gwen's subsequent grandstanding, though he recalled that she had upset his grandfather.

When Gwen passed over the Kirin Amulet, the same one their father had given her on the day of her Awakening, he felt such giddiness that his hand trembled. Percy recalled that he could scarcely breathe when Gwen slipped the amulet over his head.

The still-warm Kirin pendant then sat against his bosom.

And Percy knew all was right with the world.

His sister's eyes were misty, and the natural amber-emerald hue of her orbs had become clouded, but Percy couldn't worry about that now. He would somehow make it up to her later, but this was HIS moment.

After the short ceremony, Guo left for the study.

His grandmother departed as well.

Percy had sat alone under the ambient light of the dimly lit hall, thumbing his new pendant, dreaming of the bright future that awaited him. Sometime later, he had heard a commotion from the west wing, from the training hall. There were shouts of encouragement, laughter, and a few choked sobs. Driven by curiosity, he had peeked through the faux windows separating the practical section of the estate from its living quarters.

Voices filled his sister's temporary abode.

There was Gwen.

His father.

His grandmother.

Uncle Jun.

Petra.

Tao.

Mina.

Richard.

Laughing, cheering, belonging.

Standing alone, separated by the flimsy barrier in the dark, a caustic panic had gripped Percy's heart, just as it had now. The amulet grew hot and heavy around his neck, more akin to an iron-wrought manacle than silken strings.

_Should he have taken the Kirin Stone?_ The tinnitus of doubt thrummed in his ear. That was when he had first felt the presence in the amulet. He had felt a pressure, a touch, a finger on the soft membrane of his brain.

_"Thank you all!"_

_"Thank you for supporting me!"_

The clarion voice of his sister rang through the courtyard, and Percy found himself fleeing toward his room, his lungs fighting for every desperate gasp of air.

_What happened after that?_ Percy pondered. His memory of the event was fuzzy and uncertain.

A few days later, Grandfather had laid out privacy wards in the training hall, sat him down, and told him the family history. There was some gobbledygook about Chinese spirits and an old Kirin, as well as blood curses that sounded as mystical as it was divorced from modern Spellcraft, but the point made by his grandfather was clear.

If he, a Salt Mage, wanted to carry on the family line, he would need the amulet.

If he ever wanted to catch up with his sister, he would need the amulet. Most importantly, if Percy ever wished to wield the power of salt with impunity, he would need the amulet.

"Both your father and your uncle begin their training shortly after Awakening, but to my knowledge, only Jun fully utilised the Kirin Amulet's power. As for your father, I could only assume he did enough before he left, considering that you and Gwen are living proof of his mastery over the element."

Percy had no idea, of course. His father had never mentioned his past, family, or half of the amulet.

"I will now teach you how to cultivate using the Kirin Stone. Percy Song, I now bestow the Kirin's Blessing and the Rite of Essence Transfer upon you."

The rest of the lecture had been both a threat and a warning.

The training had been difficult and fraught with physical and mental pain. More than once, Percy had regretted taking on the burden of the amulet and its Necromancy-tainted application. As the Essence from the Kirin Core nourished his body, his training progressed in leaps and bounds, far quicker than replenishing his reserves with HDM crystals. His Astral and his physical body felt impervious to the negative drain from his Salt talent, meaning he was limited only by the extent of his willpower.

For the first time, Percy had become confident he could catch up to Gwen.

Slowly, the jade pendant lost its emerald exterior, turning translucent and white like salt. He took it as a sign that he had successfully converted the Kirin Core to his use.

Later, Guo confirmed that the Core took on different hues when reacting with users. Unsurprisingly, Jun's half of the Kirin Core was white, dull and ashen.

Shortly after that, he felt the presence again.

A schizophrenic existence.

Sometimes, it sought to reject him, even attack him during meditation.

Other times, it was inviting and hungry, drawing in more and more of his Salt-tinged mana.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

That and the indescribable sensation of drowning in darkness whenever he entered deep meditation with the amulet active. He felt cast out to sea, alone and abandoned in these moments. He was a drowned sailor, sinking into the murk while painfully aware that something indescribably large waited for him below—a poetically apt phobia for a boy who had survived a Leviathan crashing into his city.

Then one day, unbidden and unexpected, Gwen came to visit him while contending with his inner demons.

The pendant had gone 'apeshit' a few minutes into their conversation.

He realised then that there was something inside the amulet which desperately wanted to join its former possessor. After shooing her away, he took a cold shower and returned to the training hall. Then with masochistic glee, he had poured his desiccating mana into the damned thing, suppressing whatever "thing" stirred within the Kirin Core's depth.

After that, Percy tightened his training regime.

There were additional incidents where the amulet rebuked him, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Furthermore, he had questioned his uncle, who had disputed the existence of a "presence" inside the amulet.

"Gwen has been through a Warzone, so there's probably any number of Spirits in her stone," Jun had replied offhandedly. His lack of enthusiasm for Percy was poorly disguised on his face. "You should be so lucky to be the benefactor of her woe..."

Jun's reaction was enough. Percy had decided it was safest to keep the complication close to his chest. His Spellcraft training was coming along well, and that was all that mattered.

He felt he was progressing far better than his sister when she was just fifteen. Having received formal preparatory training since he was eleven, he knew the theory, the practical methodology, and his abilities far better than Gwen knew hers.

Not only that, his new school, Xiangming Metropolitan, provided Cognisance Chamber readings on a fortnightly basis.

Seeing his statistical data increase point by point, month by month, was the greatest satisfaction and the most ardent vindication of his resolution. Things at his new school likewise fell into a routine. He made new friends, mostly among the Guan-er-dai, power progenies such as himself, and founded friendships with well-to-do Clanners.

Midway through the semester, he met Pei Li. The two got talking, and Pei asked him if Gwen Song from Fudan was related to 'the Songs.' Percy's answer had remained evasive, and his new friend had accidentally discovered Gwen's precarious position in the family. Later, another mutual friend told Percy that an Elder from Pei's Clan had been discharged and that the Huashang Lis had lost two promising young Mages in a confrontation involving Gwen. When he confronted Pei, the young man shrugged, stating that it was the work of renegades who were now excommunicated from the Clan's inner circle.

Not wanting to rock the boat, Percy accepted the explanation, even though the thought of his sister chasing him down and demanding to know the truth haunted him.

But there was nothing he could do, so Percy delved headlong into training.

Then news came of his father's new bride.

Percy initially thought a new mother would have bothered him, but having met his new family, he liked the Lius and what they had built for themselves in Hangzhou. In Percy's eyes, the Lius' history was a good roadmap for his ambitions in China: to secure House Song's position, branch out via powerful allies, and build himself a legacy.

He imagined himself the Master of an Estate like the Lius and fancied it. NoMs would quake as he passed; men and women would bow if they were subservient or dip their chins if they were compatriots. People would refer to Percy as "Patriarch," "Master," "Sir," and perhaps in time, "Secretary," and "Magister."

Then, of course, Gwen arrived.

As before, the amulet had gone _apeshit_.

This time, Gwen had suddenly reached for his amulet, something she had never done before. The act rattled him to his Core, for he knew with absolute certainty that had Gwen laid her hands on the pendant, she would have yanked it from his neck and forever laid claim to his heirloom.

So Percy panicked— _again_.

He vindictively accused her of having designs on his inheritance, driving his sister from the house.

_Good riddance._ Percy thanked the Gods for a grandfather like Guo. He had no idea why Guo disliked Gwen, just as he couldn't fathom why Jun had taken to Gwen so strongly.

After that, he retreated to the privacy of his guest room and circulated his mana into the amulet until it had ceased the damned rollicking.

He had avoided his sister after that—until tonight.

Percy thumbed the Kirin Pendant again.

" _Little shit,"_ Percy said to no one in particular. The insult had come from his sister. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but it had stuck with Percy, grated on him, and ate away at his innards.

A _little shit…_

Percy scoffed.

For some reason, the bland and uninspiring insult sat in his kidneys like a stone.

"FUCK YOU TOO!" he announced to the decapitated statue.

The stoic form of the half-shattered ornament informed him that his insult was not very effective.

"Hahaha…" Percy chuckled, hearing his mocking laughter reverberate around the sky well of the shattered atrium, returning the mockery to its sender.

Percy shook his head.

He had to return to the wedding.

Win or lose, he had to be there, or else Guo would be upset.

Percy relaxed.

The soliloquy felt good.

He felt much better now that his head wasn't cluttered with angst and repressed solicitudes. Nothing like an open-air F-bomb to clear your system.

Collecting himself, Percy rested the pendant between his hands, looking as though he was cradling a miniature Kirin, then began the Rite.

"Drain Life!"

The stowed Essence within the Kirin Stone began to flow into his body, strengthening his vitality and fortifying his Astral body. When the pendant wasn't acting up, the process was almost pleasurable, like being bathed in warm milk.

"ARRRRRGGH!"

A shriek echoed across the courtyard.

A vaguely female humanoid figure burst from the remnants of the broken statue, struck the floor, and then began to writhe and twist, scratching and clawing at her throat.

It took Percy half a second to register what he was seeing.

"Shield!"

He tumbled backwards across the filthy floor and came up in a defensive stance, ready to run if his opponent was an ambusher or a Mage he couldn't overcome with his meagre tiers of Spellcraft.

With his Drain Life disrupted, the female figure rolled onto her belly, then onto her hand and knees.

His assailant raised her head.

Hidden behind a crow's nest of filthy, matted hair, a pair of dark eyes looked up at Percy.

A woman? No, a girl.

Percy felt his blood run cold.

She had seen him!

She had seen him exercise the Song's forbidden magic!

He raised a hand toward her face.

"Don't kill me! Lord Mage! I am… I am an NoM! I live here... I got scared when someone came... please..."

The voice was coarse, pitiful and weak.

Percy paused.

The woman, or girl, it was impossible to tell, was stick thin and covered in dirt, muck, and grime. Her wild hair was tangled in unpleasant knots, falling over her back and neck like a filthy rope. Whatever was in that statue had furthermore stuck to her rags and exposed skin, making her more akin to a Night-Goblin than a human being.

Now that his shock had passed, Percy furthermore noted that the source of stench he had noticed earlier belonged not to the locale but to the vagabond.

His gaze softened.

"No, I should be sorry," he replied, breathing gently. "Do you live here? In such a horrible state? Where are your parents?"

"I…"

The girl appeared caught off guard by the visage of a pleasant young man in a tuxedo, standing in the moonlight, speaking amiably to her.

"Can you stand?"

"Y-yeah…"

She made an effort to stand.

Percy waited until the girl was unbalanced.

"Salt Bolt!"

A fist of weighed salt launched itself toward the girl's head. It was his most efficient spell. Percy had practised the incantation until he was out of mana, his lips bled, and his tongue was raw and parched.

"Shield!"

The girl did not appear to have formalised instruction beyond mandatory vocational training. Her Water Shield was paper thin, barely a membrane of semi-opaque liquid.

His bolt cut through the girl's shield, scalping her shoulder.

"Arrrrrrgh!"

In a blind panic, she charged him.

Percy sidestepped, too well-trained to fall for such a bullish assault. He tripped the girl, seized her skeletal wrists, twisted her arm, and then sent her reeling toward the floor, where her profile connected with the brickwork.

The fluid motion was almost subconscious, resulting from Guo's relentless, repetitive training. As his grandfather said, "If you need to think about how to defend, you've already lost."

With the girl on the floor, he drove a knee into her back.

The girl screamed and coughed, struggling to breathe.

"Are you a spy?" he asked.

It was a stupid question.

He wasn't that deluded.

Rogue Mages were not unheard of, especially in the Frontier.

The Chinese government conscripted children from the NoM masses every year by the tens of thousands, throwing them into training to create fodder for the insatiable revolving door of the District Militia. Those who survived and thrived were then relocated to the Military. Those who proved a little more talented than mana batteries became spell fodder for the Northern Front. If so, knowing that one's demise was inevitable, desertion should be no surprise to anyone.

A Rogue Mage, then.

No wonder the poor tramp lived by herself in an old, worn-out temple.

"Oi, are you a Rogue Mage? A deserter? Answer me! What are you doing here?"

Now exposed under the bright light of the moon, he could see the girl more clearly.

He could see that she was bleeding. A shallow wound was caught between the folds of her torn shirt. Furthermore, blood seeped from her nostrils and the corner of her lips where her face had struck the floor.

He knelt.

Not knowing why, Percy dabbed a digit into the girl's wound, touching the scarlet gauze and rubbing the hot, sticky glob of gory ejaculation between his fingers.

"Arrrgh! It hurts! Please! Let me go... I'll do anything... anything..." The girl moaned.

Percy felt a rush of blood to the head.

Reflexively, he gripped the Kirin pendant with his off-hand.

It was an unconscious habit. For Percy, the stone had become a fetish, one he found himself holding whenever he felt anxious or unsure.

_I should finish her._

She's a Mage, and she saw me use Necromancy.

_But she's innocent,_ his rational half protested. It's human decency to show mercy.

_No! The girl's a deserter!_ She will die sooner or later anyway; the punishment for desertion was a televised execution.

Percy bemoaned his fortunes.

Just his luck to run into a deserter.

Who the fuck hides in a hollow statue?

He thumbed the Kirin pendant.

As the girl's blood smeared across its surface, a discolouration polluted the purity of the Kirin Core's lamb-fat complexion.

Unnoticed, Percy tucked the pendant beneath his shirt.

He took a deep breath.

He wondered how many people Gwen had killed.

Dozens, probably.

"If I let you go, if... who's there?!"

_Creak—_

The sound of rusty gates opening from afar punctuated the tranquil air.

_Shit!_ Percy's ears perked.

_Did she have allies?_

"LIFAN!!!" the silent girl suddenly began to scream with a vitality that utterly surprised Percy. "LIFAN! HELP ME! HE'S GOT ME! HE'S AN EVOKER!"

Percy placed a hand over the girl's head, then pressed her face into the pavement, silencing her with a resounding _Crack!_

A spell came to his lips with unerring clarity.

"Drain Life!"

The girl's face contorted with agony. Her gurgling scream ceased as though a facet had been shut. What little vitality had remained in the girl's battered body filtered into the Kirin Amulet, then circulated into Percy's body.

Percy's hand came away with a fistful of greasy, rancid human hair.

In the undulating ecstasy of the life drain, he had pulled at the girl with more passion than he had intended.

He caught his breath as it ripped from his chest in rags.

The communion between himself and the amulet was like nothing he had ever felt. It was as though the Kirin Core had finally become one with his flesh and accepted him as its sole Master.

With renewed vigour, Percy gripped the deserter girl by the back of the neck.

"Drain Life!"

But there was no more euphoria to be squeezed from the limp and flaccid carcass.

The vagabond was dead.

"Shit." Percy stepped back, feeling hungrier for his unexpected satiation. Like a man who'd just finished an astonishingly appetising entrè, he was now lusting for the main course.

_Gods!_ He felt invigorated!

He felt invincible!

No, more than that.

Percy turned his mind inward.

Something had changed.

It was different this time. Different from when Percy had worked the ritual with only the pendant.

Unlike his once timid sister, he had been trained within an inch of his life since he had exhibited the promise of magic. He knew his body and his capabilities like the back of his hand.

Seeing that no intruders came to rescue the dead girl, he turned his mind inward, searching through his Sigils until he found the source of the disturbance.

"Shield!"

A Salt-Shield sprang into existence.

Percy retracted the shield.

"Shield!"

A semi-dome Shield was erected around his person, semi-transparent and glittering with blue-white crystals.

_Abjuration._

It was an Abjuration Shield.

A wild fancy came to Percy.

A puzzle piece had fallen into place.

An epiphany.

_EUREKA!_

"SO THAT'S HOW SHE DID IT!"

Gwen had six Schools of Magic.

SIX MOTHERFUCKING SCHOOLS!

And TWO Elements!

From none!

But they weren't hers.

She had stolen those Schools, just as he had done now.

Stripped them from her victims' Astral Souls, pilfered via illicit magic.

That selfish, immoral whore! She must have figured out a way to abuse the Song's Necromantic legacy!

"HAHAHAHA! I KNEW IT!" Percy paced back and forth, shaking with uncontrollable glee. "Gwen! GWEN! Gwen! You knew the whole time, yet you kept it all to yourself. You bitch! You selfish, conniving little _shit_."

Was this why men like Kilroy and Shultz lined up at her door? Had they thought she was a one-in-a-million genius? A Meister in the making? The fools! If only they knew!

Who else would know? Percy couldn't help but wonder.

Jun.

Uncle, fucking, Jun.

Percy saw the way Jun had looked at Gwen.

He had heard him say that he wanted a daughter on multiple occasions.

THAT was the reason why he had gone on the trip with Gwen! Her Kirin MUST have something to do with the cannibalistic powers of the amulet! Maybe it could consume Demi-human magic as well? Or Transmute their souls? Uncle Jun had his half of the amulet!

_And Guo as well._

What was it that the old man had said to Liu?

_"If a single one of your Clan's juniors can best Gwen, I will join the House of Song wholeheartedly to your Faction. Your grandchild, male or female, will become the inheritor of both our Houses."_

Guo had gambled _his_ —Percy Song's future—on his sister! HIS SISTER!

A FUCKING GENERALIST!

THE BASTARD! That decrepit, senile old bastard!

HE WAS THE FUCKING HEIR!

To think he had trusted the old fart with his future.

"Shield!"

Instantaneously, his shield sprung into place.

It was not a dream.

The shield was real.

He had plucked Abjuration from the Rogue Mage! He was sure of it! For months, his Abjuration had lingered at a pitiful index of 0.45. From what he could gauge now, it was at least tier 1!

His new magic proves it!

He always knew that Gwen had cheated and how he had found her out.

Most importantly, now he could catch up to his sister, fair and square.

If she could drain hapless Mages in District 109 to account for her lack of talent, then so could he!

If HE could attain her level of power—NO—IF HE COULD SURPASS HER POWER, where would it take him?

To what heights could Percy Song ascend?

Magus Percy Song?

Magister Percy Song?

The greatest was behind!

"We're alike now! Hahaha!"

Not knowing why, he kicked the girl's body, sending her tumbling into the headless statue, shattering its terracotta exterior.

"Gwen! I am going to catch up! _We're going to be together. One way. Or another!_ "

In the middle of his euphoria, there here came another rude interruption.

'WHAT IN MAO'S NAME DID YOU DO TO LI-HUA!'

Percy curbed his manic passion. He's been expecting their visitor.

A haggard-looking woman stood by the doorway, a shattered bottle of alcohol rolling at her feet.

"What did you do?" she uttered in disbelief and shock.

The woman saw her companion's goose-skinned, saggy corpse draped over the statue like a ragdoll.

Percy circulated a full contingent of Salt-tinged mana through his body, supercharging his physical attributes. His eyes became twin orbs of pure white, so alien as to be devoid of pity.

"Oh no…" the woman swallowed, stepping back, trapped between fleet-footed flight and bewildered intoxication.

Percy took a gander at the intruder's paralytic panic.

Who'd have thought he could affirm his hypothesis so soon?

A sadistic, uncharacteristic cruelty touched his lips as though dredged from the darkest depth of his soul.

"Oh-no?"

Gwen's little brother sniggered.

He was fully willing to sacrifice a little integrity to advance the human knowledge of Spellcraft, not to mention he was performing a social duty.

“OH, YES…”


By the second minute of the unceasing applause, Gwen's hands were beginning to hurt. The ovation had continued unabated as though they had concluded a concerto and the audience refused to leave without an encore.

Miao raised a hand.

The Inspector-General's impromptu humility caught Gwen by surprise. While a sudden cesura reigned, she kept clapping for half a second.

'Clap! Clap! Clap....'

It didn’t help that her envigorated approval was at a decibel hitherto unreachable by those without draconic-essence.

Horrified, she made herself smaller, hiding behind Jun.
Catching sight of her ashen complexion, the Secretary-General snorted with good humour.

Gwen's apprehension was voluntary.
Unlike when she had first arrived in Shanghai, she had studied up on the organisational structure of the CCP in the half-a-year since she had been at Fudan.

Secretary-General Miao Yang-Bò wasn’t someone whose name and title she could afford to lose to inconvenient amnesia.

Within her head, Gwen had painted a picture of the confusing separation of powers within the CCP. At the nerve-centre of the Chinese Communist Party was the General Office, an organ which held the Central Committee of Twelve. Attached to the General Committee was an independent oversight body - which was the Central Commission for Discipline and Inspection. The head of the CCDI and its Secretary-General was Miao Yang-Bò.

She knew of the man because, quite simply, Secretary General Miao was the boss of Jun’s boss.

The watcher who watched the watchers who watched the state.
How's that for a mouthful? Gwen thought. It would be funny if not for the fact that every word from the man's mouth could be enforced as an edict.

“Lord Ayxin, I hope you will forgive us for our neglect of your august presence. That Secretary Liu has insulted you was an unforgivable trespass.”

Boom. Gwen winced. There goes Liu's career as a statesman.

“I BEG FOR YOUR CLEMENCY! LORD AYXIN!”

Liu threw himself into another prostrating kowtow.
This time, it was of his own volition.
The CCP had long since banned the use of Imperialist gestures like the 'full body kowtow,' but Liu had mastered the form after only one attempt. The man was amazing in ways Gwen could never replicate; his skin was as thick as dragon-scales.

Qīn fell to her knees as well, bowing until her forehead touched the cold pavement, knowing that only humility could save their family from disgrace.

Hai stood awkwardly behind the two, unsure of whether to kneel or remain standing. After a moment of stiff-jointed hesitation, he implored Jun, his eyes swimming with unspoken desperation.

The corners of Ayxin’s lips twitched.
It was amazing how such a worm-like being could be the blood-relation of the male she desired. But then again, Ayxin recalled with reproof, wasn't she related to that scholarly coward, Ryxi? There's one in every family, it seemed.

Erasing Liu would please her, but she had a feeling that exercising the liberty afforded by her position and prestige would sour Jun’s opinion of her. But as a dragon, she also hungered for satisfaction.

Echoing Hai's dilemma, she allowed the matter to fall to Jun.

“Lord Ayxin, please have compassion for Hai’s father-in-law” Jun bowed, reminding his companion that they were at a wedding. More specifically, a wedding Ayxin had intruded upon uninvited and unwanted. "The man did not know of your august presence."

“I do not like that you are so distant,” Ayxin recoiled at Jun’s formality. “Speak normally.”

Jun awkwardly looked toward Secretary-General Miao for instruction.

The old man was watching the siblings and Jun's draconic-charge with great interest.

“Be at ease, Captain Song,” The Secretary-General chided Jun with a tone of great mirthfulness. “You will assume the role of our Ambassador while Lord Ayxin remains in Pudong. I am sure you're aware of how having an ancient land deity who has protected the yellow-earth for millennia as an ally would affect our borders. Maybe the Japanese will think twice about our South Sea territories then, eh?”

“My only interest here regards Jun,” Ayxin stated bluntly, furrowing her brows. “I do not have my father’s permission to engage in political barter.”

“Then let our city be your shelter and sanctuary,” Miao answered without skipping a beat. “You are welcome to stay for as long as our cities stand.”

“Sir, I have duties in the North…” Jun coughed, politely rejecting the General Secretary’s too-generous offer. Listening to the man’s increasingly grandiose diplomacy, he was getting goosebumps over parts of his body hitherto untouched by nervous premonition. “My next tour begins in February.”

“Lord Ayxin is free to go wherever she pleases.” Miao inclined his chin in a way that made him seem infinitely agreeable. “If it pleases her to tour the North, we will make that accommodation as well.”

“I see.” Jun stepped back. He was beginning to comprehend the scope of the CCDI’s vague intent. Whatever Jun desired was now out of the question. As a soldier, orders were absolute, be it trench-charging a troop of Corpse Gatherers, or the escort of a Draconic-Mage to the Front. "I shall perform my duty."

Hidden behind Jun, Gwen gritted her teeth, feeling a sincere desire to pinch her uncle.

“Perfect, Captain Song. You are a smart man and an even better soldier. Now, let us not stand on ceremony,” Miao stretched his arms behind his back. “I am an old man, Eighty-Two years old! Guo, is there a good place to sit down for some tea? Lord Ayxin and I have much to discuss.”

“Please allow me to offer my home!” Secretary Liu quavered from the floor. “Qin! Bring me my store of yearling Da Hong Pao!”

Qīn remained unmoving, but the implication was clear enough.

“Lord Ayxin?”

Ayxin dismissed the pitiful sight of Secretary Liu.

“You are forgiven,” she stated beside Jun. “Next time, know your place."

Qīn and her father remained on the floor, the very picture of humbleness.
Hai moved to retrieve his wife, but she battered his hands aside.

Caught by the awkwardness of her rebuke, Hai finally took a knee beside his spouse.

Klavidya turned away from the pitiful sight of her son, as did Guo, who was grinding his teeth with enough vehemence to require new molars.

"This way, Secretary-General.” Guo didn’t so much as glance at his first-born son as he led the way back to the west wing.

“Oh, one more thing.” Miao paused mid-stride.

The gathering collectively ceased their shuffling.

“The young Miss over there, I have some questions for you, but lacking the time, Xiao-Kú will act in my stead.”

The crowd parted to reveal Gwen, still wearing her skin suit, covered only by a towel.

Gwen pointed a trembling finger at herself.

She had been singled out like a drunken Sheila at a Friday night alcohol-stop.

A resounding series of 'Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!’ resonated through her mind. On the surface though, she kept her passions contained.

“Sir?” She dipped her head just low enough so that she was eye-level with the Secretary-General; her makeup was a mess, but Gwen figured her guise of juvenile vulnerability was to her advantage.

“It’s nothing serious, Miss Song.” Miao was already on his way out. “Kú, I'll debrief you later.”

"Sir!"

The woman in her early thirties known as Kú lowered her gaze until Guo, Klavdiya, and Miao were out of sight. Walking side by side with Miao was Ayxin, the state VIP, followed closely by Jun, who paced beside his father. Trailing the group beside Miao’s two bodyguards were Qīn and Hai, with her father lagging slightly behind. When they reached the end of the corridor, Hai and Qīn went their separate ways, evidently lacking the seniority to participate in whatever discussions that now took place.

With the senior party gone, all that remained in the spacious courtyard were troops of servants, Gwen, Kú, Mina, Tao, and Petra. The sibling's mother, Nen, accounted for her children, then quickly excused herself.

Kú turned toward Gwen with eyes the clarity and hardness of rock-quartz. Attired in a hip-hugging pencil skirt, the woman was the definition of corporate cool, though Gwen suspected her blouse & dark skirt combo was something akin to a departmental uniform.

“This way, Miss Song.”

The woman indicated to a pavilion beside the water.

Gwen pinged her Divination Sigil to no avail. Its silence wasn't a bad thing; it meant Kú wasn't going to knock her out and take her back to Central for vivisection.

Her cousins reached her side.
Petra especially, having seen such incidents in her previous line of work, raised a hand to Gwen's shoulder.

“I’ll be fine guys, the worst is over,” Gwen assured them, though she wasn’t so sure herself what Kú, and by extension Secretary General Miao, wanted from her. “Miss... er, Kú?… appears quite amiable, I guess.”

“It’s Kú Tēng, Senior-Assistant to Secretary Miao. I hold the rank of Assistant Chair within the Central Confidential Communications Bureau, Ist Division, Beijing branch. I assure you, your cousin will be safe with me. My business with Miss Song is conducted at the behest of the Secretary General’s office. All non-affiliated personnel should make themselves scarce, lest you are charged with espionage.”

Tao and Mina were the first to leave, being far more in awe of Kú than Petra, who was more accustomed to officious grandstanding from public officials.

“Gwen, be careful.” Petra lingered for the rest of their short walk, at the end of which Gwen urged Petra to go.

Walking into the pavilion, Kú materialised a wand that suspiciously looked like one of those butt-thermometers. It was, however, the width of two fingers.

“What’s that for?” Gwen stayed a step behind the woman, readying herself for a series of rapid Dimension Doors if the Assistant Chair’s next response was to ask her to lie down.

“Samples.”

“For?”

“Your Familiar.”

“Oh, thank God...” Gwen simpered with relief.

“Your Kirin, please.”

“It's a marten.”

"We'll see."

Kú waited impatiently by the table.

Gwen glanced at the instrument one more time, then once again brought forth her Familiar.

“Ariel!”

Ariel materialised mid-air.
In its passive form, Ariel's draconic qualities were far less pronounced. Without an empowering flow of Lightning-mana, her Familiar remained closer to its marten form. Two little stag-horns peeped out from its forehead, while its tail more closely resembled that of fan-tailed fish, forming a fluffy pad perfect for stress-relieving molestation.

“Eeee?”

Ariel swished through the air a few times, then landed on Gwen's head.

Ooo~, WARM! Gwen kept her face straight. Minx-scarfs aren't just for show!

“Hold it steady.”

“Ariel, be strong.” Gwen held her Familiar with both hands. “Look at me. Focus.”

“EEE?”

Kú passed the wand over Ariel.
She then punched the numbers into a data slate.
Gwen blinked.

“That thing’s not for sticking?”

“Sticking what?”

Ariel’s butthole? Gwen stopped herself from blurting out the obvious. Why are you aiming it at my Familiar’s ass if all you wanted to do is wave it like a metal detector?

“I am detecting a trace of Draconic Essence,” Kú prodded Ariel’s fur. "I need some samples."

“Okay,” Gwen scratched Ariel’s tail. “But Ariel dematerialises when I unsummon it.”

Kú handed her a pair of nail shears.

“One lock of hair and clippings from the front hooves and the back paws, if you please. As for your enquiry, Familiars with highly developed Ego - ergo - a Spirit, retains their existence in the Prime Material. The samples will degrade. That is the point. The degradation itself allows us to gouge its authenticity.”

“I see... Ariel, hand.”

It was a shame that Ariel’s front paws had become hooves, though they were cute in their own way, with a thick bushel of furry mane covering the pastern bones. The hoof-wall was a polished jet, more akin to obsidian than keratin. When Gwen took hold of its hoof, she noted that the frog was thickly fleshed, like an overlarge paw-pad of a dog or cat; immensely satisfying to squeeze.

'Clack!'

A chunk of the keratin parted.

“EEeee!!” Ariel retracted a hoof, pawing the air.

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

“It’s okay buddy, come on, one more!”

Reluctantly, Ariel settled back into her arms.

Cradling her Familiar like a baby, she retrieved one of its hind legs. Hidden under the snowy fur was a mightily fluffy paw with four meaty beans so pink and springy one could play with them for days.

Gwen dug her fingers into the luxurious tissue, tickled by the soft down.

“May I?” Kú's eyes followed Gwen's joyous, exalted digits. “Inspect your Familiar, that is.”

Hmm, Gwen felt her old instincts kick in. Maybe there was a play here. It was always good to bond with your clients before talking shop. Asking about their day, their holiday, their latest venture, that relative they had once mentioned, their new car, their dog and cats.

“Help yourself.”

“Thank you. Ariel?”

Ariel regarded the woman warily.

“Eeeee…”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Eee~!”

The Assistant-Chair retrieved the other foot, with Ariel now floating belly-up.

“Mao… Ariel is certainly a divine specimen.”

“Not divine enough to be a Kirin, I hope.”

“No… that much is evident. The physiology of a Kirin is far more complex.”

Ku gingerly lifted Ariel’s tail.

“EEEEE?!”

Ariel covered its butt with its swishing, flap-like appendage.

Rude! Its scowling face seemed to say.

Gwen couldn't help but notice Ariel now possessed 'expressions'.

“As you can see, your Familiar has no sex.”

Gwen made an 'O' with her lips.

“Through the Kirin is a chimeric creature, it nonetheless possesses universal underlying traits. Your Familiar is lacking dragon-scales, or ‘Fish-scales’ as we say.”

Kú then parted Ariel’s mane.

“Additionally, the mane should extend from under the keratin, but Ariel has an undercoat with a herringbone scale-pattern. Furthermore…”

Kú tapped on Ariel’s horns.

“Young Kirin sport ‘ròng’ or fuzzy horns. This creature possesses what looks like a warped stag-horn, even unempowered.”

“You're very observant,” Gwen marvelled at the woman’s expertise. Was she a cryptozoologist?

“Well, observant enough to see that it’s a low-tier Spirit. What did you feed it?”

“Assorted Cores? I was given some by Uncle Jun, and then we found one in Huangshan imbued with Draconic Essence.”

Kú paused in her molestation of Ariel’s paw before continuing.
Gwen looked up.
The two women met one another’s eyes.
Gwen averted her gaze, using Ariel's back paw as a distraction.

“Out of respect for Inspector Song, my colleague, I will give you an opportunity to be forthright with me,” Ku replied amiably. “You should know that I am a Bloodline Diviner. I am not very good at foretelling the future, but I can tell with fair accuracy whether someone is telling a lie.”

“EEE!!”

Gwen clipped into Ariel’s back-paw with more force than she had intended.
When she looked up, she caught a glimmer of Divination refracted from Kú's dark, amber eyes.

Her Familiar escaped the women's grasp, slithering away like greased lightning. It hovered just out of reach, swishing its tail, taunting the pair for their trespass.

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Only if you want it to be.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Then think of it as an interview. I would endeavour to make a good impression if I was in your position. With a rare talent, come dire complications.”

Gwen shifted her position so that she wasn’t so intimately seated beside the Diviner; it was bad enough that the woman could affect her with a touch spell. As for her response, it would seem cryptic answers and Divination were mutually symptomatic. Mayuree too suffered from the affliction of using half-truths as answers to common queries. Admittedly, Gwen wondered if she was still in the grasp of Mayuree's foretelling of weal and woe.

“Then I shall endeavour to do my best.”

“Good, who is the originator of your Summon Familiar?”

“Henry Kilroy, he was my mentor.”

Gwen had omitted the fact that Henry was also her saviour and her Master. She wasn’t sure how many people knew of her position as Kilroy’s No.3 apprentice, but the information was best kept covert until such time that Gunther could announce her presence to the world.

“I see. What is your Familiar’s original form.”

“A Marten. With mana, it transformed into a Mongoose.”

“May I see your second Familiar? The Void Beast?”

“I am afraid not.”

Kú's pen paused above her slate.

“Wonsoo sealed it,” Gwen added helpfully. “I can’t call for Caliban right now.”

“Back to our original question. What did you give your Marten?”

“Three Cores. An Eland Core I bought from an Auction. A Draconic-Carp Core, and a Draconic-Stag Core.”

“Retrieved from where?”

Gwen gave Ku a wane smile which said ‘nice try’.

“I see.” Ku tapped her slate. “Are you able to empower Ariel right now?”

“Yes.”

“Please do so.”

“Ariel!”

Up above, Ariel grew into its combat form, transforming into a magnificent pseudo-Kirin.

“How wonderful. I need Lumen-Pics from all angles if you please.”

Gwen coaxed Ariel to come closer, then paraded her Familiar like a show-dog at Crofts. She lifted its tail, struck out its chin, and lifted its paws for close-ups.

More samples were collected with Ariel in its combat form.

“You are a fortunate young woman.” Ku brushed a hand over her Familiar's back, startling motes of static electricity which leapt from Ariel's fur. Grimacing, the Diviner retreated her hand gingerly, shaking out the numbness. “There are stories of Familiars becoming Spirits, of course, but no replicable sample exists that we know of. Certainly, your Familiar's changes are tied to Kilroy's spell.”

“The State’s not going to want Ariel for invasive tests, is it?” Gwen inquired worriedly.

“No, Magister Wen of Fudan will take care of that. She has been given broad jurisdiction over the matter of reporting on your progress.”

Gwen’s heart sank.

Magister Wen wasn’t a malicious sort, but the woman was utterly amoral when it came to filling charts with numbers. Given the opportunity, the scholar would likely jump at the chance of dissecting Caliban or Ariel to figure out what made them tick.

“Jun mentioned Draconic-Essence.”

"Ah, of course.”

Still thinking of Petra'a Master, Gwen funnelled what little Essence she had collated in the meanwhile into Ariel.

Again, her Familiar took on the radiant form of the full-maned Kirin with the elongated fork-pronged horns and shimmering fur-scales.

“Beautiful.” Kú breathed in. "It almost feels like the real thing, especially its presence."

Ariel modelled for another round of Lumen-pics; before Ku was done, however, Gwen’s Familiar shrunk back to her marten form.

“What happened?” the Assistant Chair demanded.

“I am out of juice,” Gwen confessed. “It takes a long time to coalesce Draconic-essence.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” Kú noted the flaw down on her pad. "You're only human."

“So, what’s going to happen with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask." The woman packed away her implements.

“Well, I am asking now,” Gwen fired back.

“What do you think will happen to you?”

“Again with the rhetorical questions.” Gwen’s patience was wearing threadbare. If the woman wanted to play the fortune teller, she could do it on a day when Gwen wasn’t so damned tired. “Assistant-Chair Tēng. I know Gunther has a thing going on with you guys, and that I've got limited options, so why don't we be 'forthright' with one another?”

“That’s a bleak way of putting it.” Kú crossed her legs, though older, the woman rocked her pencil skirt; she reminded Gwen of a female CFO she had known from Westpac. “Let us be blunt then. The Secretary-General’s position is to ensure you do not become a point of tension between ourselves and the Mageocracy.”

Gwen nodded.

“Our only expectation is that you actively avoid putting yourself into a position which would flare those tensions. Territorial disputes; Political posturing; sabotaging Lord Ayxin's interest in your Uncle. Jun has informed you of the treaty we have with the Pudong Tower, yes?”

The snide insert about Ayxin hadn't escaped Gwen's notice.

“Wen’s research data?”

“Yes, so long as both sides have equal access, you are free to do as you please.”

“If I wish to leave the country?”

"Go ahead. Jun is a loyal member of the CCP and the PLA. Your grandfather and grandmother are both our countrymen, so is your father and now your brother. You're welcome to return to the fold at any time; so long as your interests abroad does not conflict with ours."

"Is that a threat?"

"Are you going to be a threat?"

Gwen sighed unhappily.

Kú leaned forward, studying the young woman's vivid irises as the saturation of Gwen's hazel orbs reflected her lifting emotions.

“Look...” Gwen took a deep breath. In Kú's eyes, the girl visibly squared her shoulders and arched her spine so that she sat upright and poised. “As you know, I came from Australia, an old British Penal Colony. I was a nobody - hell, in a place like the Oceania Frontier, I was meat. But as luck would have it, I awoke to rare talents I had no idea how to control, literally winning the bloodline lottery. During that very uncertain period of Spellcraft infancy, I was picked up like a stray cat by Magister Kilroy and his apprentices, Magus De Botton and Lord Shultz. They gave me a home in the Sydney Tower, taught me how to use my magic, and set me on the right path.”

Gwen waited to see if Kú would interrupt her, then continued.

“Until I had found allies like Magister Kilroy, my babulya, my friends in Sydney and my family here in Shanghai, I had no idea what I wanted, nor what I was going to do with my talents. Crystals? Sure, I could do with a mountain or two. Buy a big house, have a nice life, place by the Ocean, sans the Mermen; that sort of thing.”

“Sounds nice. A good aspiration.”

Ariel turned in Gwen's lap.
Positing her Familiar, Gwen offered Assistant-Chair Tēng Ariel's super-soft belly. Gingerly, Kú dug her fingers into the luxurious fur.

“And that would’ve been it. But Magister Kilroy told me that there are bigger things in this world than just sitting on your ass sipping a Tequila Sunrise, watching the surf at Bondi. A great man once said ‘With Great Power, comes Great Responsibility.’ My benefactor himself believed in Noblesse Oblige, the idea that Mages should take it upon their shoulders to elevate NoMs above their mediocre, poverty-stricken lives, or at the very least, show compassion and empathy for our fellow man.”

“The Great Leader stated as much in his Manifesto,” Ku added, squeezing Ariel's beans. “I am in full agreement. Go on.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it." Gwen wetted her lips quickly. "What Magister Kilroy gifted me was more than Spellcraft, more than his Signature Conjure Familiar. It was a goal that extended beyond myself. A goal that, with every tier of magic I master, I feel inching closer. As my power grows, so does the burden on my shoulders, and that’s why I strive always to surpass myself. For my immediate future, I want to represent Fudan in the IIUC. I’ll finish my degree here. I’ll graduate a Magus. After that, I want to help Gunther rebuild Sydney. If China wishes to be a part of that, you're welcome. If not, not my problem. THAT'S my honest opinion. I hope the Secretary-General is not going to think lesser of me.”

Kú played with Ariel's tail.

Got her! Gwen exalted internally.

“What about Magister Kilroy’s killer?” Kú asked casually.

Gwen stiffened.

Kú smirked.

“Well, given a chance…" Gwen licked her lips again. "I would like to see her returned to the Void."

“I will pass on the sentiment.” Kú nodded, her face revealing neither agreement or malice.

Gwen swallowed. Assistant Chair Tēng seemed amiable enough. It was time for a few questions of her own.

“May I inquire as to the Secretary’s desire?”

“Status quo.” Ku waved a hand over the samples, stowing them in her ring. “The country is in a good place at the moment. The past decade has seen minimal insurgency, and the Undead has been kept from the Xian-Beijing Front. It’s times like this that we need to build up our forces for the next big calamity.”

Gwen nodded, a little unnerved by Kú's choice of words.

'The next big calamity?'
Her grandfather had called her that when they first met.
Ayxin had stated likewise, as had the Yinglong.

“I understand,” Gwen answered. “I’ll keep out of trouble.”

Ariel coiled again, its serpentine marten's body offsetting the tension. Without speaking, the two women listened to the bone-thrumming purr of Gwen's Kirin-like marten as they worked over its head, feet and tail.

“Very well,” Kú replied eventually. “This concludes our meeting. I will inform the Secretary of my findings. Oh, and one more thing, young one.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Don’t be so trusting, especially of those wearing a uniform.”

“Ma’am?”

Kú's chuckle broke into a laugh.

What was that all about? Gwen wondered.

“It was a pleasure speaking to you, Miss Song. I look forward to your progress.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I’ll not disappoint."

“I have every confidence you won’t.” Kú took one last gander at Ariel, then picked herself from the seat. “An official announcement regarding your pseudo-Kirin will be sent out to relevant stakeholders, though I would personally advise keeping a low profile. It would be a fortuitous day when half of those under our jurisdiction believed in official notices. Never underestimate what people are willing to do to get their hands on a piece of semi-divinity.”

"I'll be careful, Ma'am."

‘Ding!’

As though preplanned and divined in advance, a Message bloomed beside Kú's ear.

“Sir? Yes, I am done here as well. I understand... Very well.”

Kú turned toward Gwen amiably.

“Looks like we’re all wrapped up. Your family is seeing off the Secretary-General. Shall we?”

“Yes,” Gwen followed.

Back in the outer courtyard, the party had reconvened. From the looks of it, the group had already bespoken their farewells when Gwen and Kú approached.

"Xiao-Kú, allow me a good gander at our future Magus." The Secretary-General beckoned.

Gwen bowed deeply.

“I am flattered by your recognition, esteemed Sir,” she replied sheepishly.

“Don’t mind the formality.” Secretary-General Miao approached. Strangely, it was as though the man had no aura at all; she may as well be addressing a NoM.

Miao extended a hand.

An opportunity! Gwen contemplated the unexpected prospect. First impressions were important!

She had a split-second to react: years of ingrained professionalism took over. Gwen straightened her body, looked up with bright eyes, and gave Miao the most sugary smile she could muster under the circumstances.

The two shook.

Gwen had long since discovered the power of a submissive handshake, a poise uniquely exploitable by women, particularly attractive women. She lowered her shoulders, dipped her head, then took Miao’s hand with both hands. The ‘double-cusp’ it was called, delivered underhand, almost like a hug. Miao’s hand felt coarse and hard, rigid and skeletal; hers were soft, tender, and warm.

“Thank you for looking after our family, Secretary General Miao. It put me at ease knowing that Grandfather has a reliable superior and that Uncle Jun is working under your esteemed guidance.”

The Miao's mien took on a generous and expansive expression.

“A fair flatterer!” the old man marvelled, smiling so much that his face became a mass of weathered lines. “Guo! You have a wonderful granddaughter; I am jealous!”

“Please don’t mind her.” Guo awkwardly chuckled next to his superior. “Gwen, show Secretary Miao the proper respect.”

“Please forgive my insolence.” Gwen bowed again, this time with her hands on her knees and her long hair cascading from her white neck. Her makeup, she mindfully noted, was still in ruins.

“Nonsense!” The Secretary appeared pleased by her demure humility. Behind Miao, Kú fought back her mirth.

“Sir.” She coughed. “We need to go. You have to be back in Beijing at 23:15.”

“Of course.” Miao turned toward Ayxin, who stood with Jun. “Lord Ayxin, I hope Captain Song and yourself will usher forth a new era of cooperation between the PLA and the Lord of Huangshan. For now, please enjoy your stay in Pudong.”

Ayxin remained attired in her Hello Kitty shirt, cutting a curious figure beside Gwen.

“Thank you for the reception, Yang-Bò. I am sure Pudong will be a very interesting experience.”

It was the first time that Gwen and Ayxin had stood side to side; the apparent similarities had not escaped the Secretary General’s sharp eyes.

“Fair well.” The Secretary dipped his chin.

The gathering saluted, bowed and curtsied.

Meeting Gwen’s eyes, Kú began an incantation.
A silvery Conjuration mandala formed on the floor of the outer courtyard.

SHE WAS A CONJURER? Gwen baulked. Suddenly, the woman's advice made so much more sense. Kú had played her like a fiddle! Seeing her dismay, Kú Tēng, Assistant Chair to the Secretary-General, winked at Gwen, then moved aside as a portal connected Hangzhou and Beijing, where presumably a massive ISTC array fed power into the translocation spell.

In the next moment, the Secretary and his men were gone.

All that remained was the scent of burning silver in the air, sizzling away where the mandala’s reagents had eaten into the granite floor.

The gathered members of the wedding party breathed out a collective gasp of relief.

Magus Liu turned to Guo.
The man bowed deeply.

“Secretary Song, can you forgive a fool who was blinded by greed and ambition?”

Gwen’s grandfather sighed.

“We’re family now, Liu. Lets put this behind us, shall we?”

“I cannot possibly repay you for your generosity,” Liu’s voice choked.

The two old men held each other's hands and shook on the ceasefire agreement. It was a foregone conclusion, one that had been set the moment Miao arrived. The head of the CCDI wasn't going to allow his Chair of Confidential Communication to have a shit-fight with the man responsible for supplying Shanghai with grain. It would create chaos for his precious ‘status quo’, as Kú had so generously informed Gwen.

Gwen felt a wave of revulsion.
The two old crooks had been at each other's throat an hour ago!
Bloody politics!

“Gwen…”
It was Qīn who now turned to Gwen.

“I am sorry, for everything. My intentions weren’t pure. Can you please forgive me?”

A blast of heady perfumed washed over Gwen’s nostrils, Qīn was inches from her face. There was a musky scent of old sex as well, one that Gwen as an inexperienced teenager could not have known, but as a veteran, prickled her nostrils.

What the fuck? She glanced from Qīn to Hai, then back to the woman again. They had been gone an hour at most. To think that in a time like this, her father and step-mother still mustered enough libido to get it 'on' like they do on the Discovery Channel.

“Of course,” Gwen replied, stepping away. “As grandfather said, we’re family now. We’re on the same team. Right? Not to mention I love those shoes, hahaha.”

Qīn's face trembled with happiness, even though Gwen could feel the rigidity in her fingers. She was a woman being forced to put on a show, but Gwen couldn’t blame her stepmother. Qīn had her circumstances, such as being stuck with her asshole of a father, and that in itself would be torture enough. Why add insult to injury, especially as tomorrow, she would be back to Fudan.

“Well, I am glad that’s resolved,” Jun interjected. “I’ll be taking Lord Ayxin-”

“Jun~.”

“...Ayxin. Back to Pudong first thing in the morning. They’re readying her accommodations, as well as a Shielding Key capable of supporting a being of her seniority.”

Ayxin growled.

“Uncle, such poor choice of words,” Gwen intervened. She took the opportunity to separate from Qīn, not wanting to think about where the woman's fingers had last been. Walking beside Ayxin, Gwen offered the Dragon-kin her off hand. Reflexively and a little perplexed, Ayxin took it. The two then shook in full view of the audience, two near-identical figures standing side by side.

“Ayxin, I hope you enjoy Shanghai as much as I did. There’s lots of cuisine to eat, tons of interesting places to visit, clothes to buy, shoes to try. Let me tell ya, sweetheart, the number of outfits you could buy could fill up that cavern of yours up in Huangshan and then some. That Hello Kitty shirt? That’s just the beginning. I am sure Uncle Jun's company Currency-Card has no limit, right?”

“I suppose.” Jun shrugged helplessly, feeling a terrible premonition, both for himself and the Operations Budgetary Office.

“That sounds wonderful.” Ayxin tugged at her shirt, then looked toward Jun.

“Yes, Ayxin.” Gwen smacked her lips. She had seen how Ayxin looked at her clothes on the Mount. The dragon-lady was strong, but not even a dragon-kin could escape the curse of vapid consumerism. “In the mortal world, we call it Retail Therapy. Endless shopping, unlimited budget, with Uncle Jun by your side, holding your bags. Every other woman, staring at you with nail-biting envy! You, my girl, are going to have a blast!”

"Gwen-" Jun warned his niece.

“I think I will.” Ayxin beamed, her eyes sparkling. “Yes, I would like that.”

Jun groaned inwardly.
Shopping? Endless shopping?
He would rather face an endless Undead hoard.

Beside her uncle, Gwen beamed - an innocent flower with a serpent's tongue.
Jun felt an outbreak of cold sweat soaking his dress shirt.
Was this Gwen’s revenge for his indiscretion with Ayxin?
The girl's pettiness could rival a Dragon's!


Percy wondered if anything in the world could hurt more than walking with a gash in his gut. But the wound couldn't be helped. It was the first time he had fought anyone to the death.

His instructors were right.
When the shit came down; one should never underestimate an inferior enemy. That his opponent would struggle until her final, dying breath was a concept Percy understood intellectually but had never encountered in real life, much less vis-a-vis via a live spell exchange.

The second assailant had been a Transmuter, though unlike the Abjurer, she had reached at least tier 2. Drunk on the acquisition of his new School of Magic, Percy had attempted to tank a Rock Shard, a sort of home-brew Barrage, only to have the obsidian spike pierce his Salt Shield, then slam into his abdomen.

In the first split-second, he had thought his injury manageable with a little grit, his brain still in shock and denial. Then the pain hit, and Percy reeled, coiled over like a cooked prawn, gasping for breath as a white-hot wave of agony washed over his shell-shocked brain.

‘FUCK!’ he’d howled internally, forcing his eyes to open. So much for the power up. So much for discovering the greatest secret of the Song’s lineage. He was going to get murdered by a hobo in a temple, and it would take them days to find his desecrated corpse. He bet Gwen never got wounded by hobos, not even that time she supposedly Quested in the Blackheath slums.

At any rate, by the time his brain moved past denial, the anguish was unreal.

As the deserter-woman closed in, Percy's life flashed through his feverish brain. He thought about Gwen, his mother, Helena, his father, Hai, his babulya, and even his Grandfather, but most of all, he thought about his aborted future: his titles, his House, his position in the PLA.

“Stone Spike!”

“Jump!”

Percy wasn’t too sure how he’d survived the fight, but he figured that it must have been the ingrained training from Guo kicking in. He vaguely recalled that he maneuvered away from the blast of spindly stone, then fired off two Salt Shards in quick succession while in mid-air, a feat he’d hitherto never accomplished, taking the astonished woman in the gut.

As she fell, choking on her own blood, leaking excreta, he had rushed toward her, bowled the vagabond over, caught her by the throat, then activated another ‘Drain Life’.

‘Holy crap I am good,’ he remembered thinking.

Was it the adrenaline?
Enchanters had a spell called Heroism that could temporarily lessen pain and increase physical and mental alacrity. Transmuters had a spell called Unyielding Body which performed a similar function. For Percy, the feeling was akin to a training-trance when one pushed past the pain and entered a kind of nirvana-like state, awakening only when the timer blared.

Usually, it took him almost fifteen minutes of concentration to activate the Blessing of the Kirin, but just now, he had used the elaborate Necromantic ritual as though it were a Salt Blast or a Chain of Salt.

By the time his second victim became desiccated, Percy had restored enough vitality to regain a clarity of mind, though his wound oozed, it was no longer dire.

Searching through his Storage Ring, Percy produced a Healing Potion.

“Tssss~!”

While the potion staunched his bleeding, an unbidden insight blossomed within the chaotic recess of Percy’s stimuli-addled Astral Soul, bringing with it an acute awareness of just how far up shit creek he had inadvertently paddled.

'You fucked up,' Percy's brain declared mercilessly.

Without a doubt, he had just violated some major-tier manifesto regarding both the preservation of the House of Song’s secret and the non-proliferation of Necromancy.

What would happen when someone inevitably found out?
Would he be sent to that infamous prison near Hongqiao, the Tianlanqiao?
How could the future heir of the House of Song, one who sought to resurrect the House's bygone glory, be the very one to bring its demise?

Percy’s temples throbbed.

He was most definitely up shit creek.
And HOLY FUCK he just lost the paddle.

Panic germinated from the pit of the boy's stomach, twisting and turning, gripping his heart with skeletal fingers, pinching his arteries and wringing his chest with sadistic intensity.

What should he do?
Who could help him now?

Gwen?

His sister's face was first and foremost on his mind.

When Hai was out playing with women, Gwen had made him breakfast. When Helena was too upset to show up for their weekly dinner, Gwen had taken him down to the local RSL for phó. When it was New Years, and neither of their parents were around, Gwen had taken him to see the fireworks at Darling Harbour; she even bought him a Big Mac with her part-time money.

She had always given him her things, while he had gotten used to taking them.
And now, Gwen had given up their father’s amulet.

A new agony seized Percy’s breath; it was like that proverbial trope where an angel and a devil duked it out within one's conscience; only within Percy's head, there were two devils - Guilt and Envy, jostling for dominance.

Out of habit, he thumbed his amulet.
The smooth texture of the stone, its all-too-familiar design, comforted him.

Going to Hai was a joke.
Going to Jun was an unknown.
Going to Guo? It was social and filial suicide.

Going to Gwen for help?
Percy was surprised that he found the prospect plausible.

What was the alternative?
Bury the bodies?
Never use his newfound power again?

A spark of hope flickered within the darkness of his despair.

No.
Gwen was living proof it could work.
His sister had kept the family secret and thrived, hadn't she?
There was no reason why the Songs couldn’t accommodate another. He was sure that Uncle Jun, or at least his Grandfather, would be more than happy to provide him with the means to become the most potent heir the House of Song had ever seen, elevating House Song beyond its mundane strata.

As for his sister, his beef with her was irrelevant.
It was a problem of his immaturity and his insecurity.
An issue of her overwhelming excellence.
But those barriers were no longer applicable.
He was just like his sister now.
They could fight together.
Adventure together.
Be together.

The ‘Dynamic Duo!’ the Mage-world would call them.

“Haha!”

Percy sniggered, his choking chortle sounding strange and hollow. He tried recalling where he’d heard the idiomatic phrase, except the laughter brought a new wave of agony.

“Ergh…”

Percy popped another healing potion, but the Positive Energy diminished by his Salt-corrupted constitution. Despite his self-medication, the wound continued to weep.

With nought but pure grit, he 'cleaned up' the scene, then limping and staggering, Percy wandered back to the manor.

As a guest residing in the West Wing, he possessed a Warding Glyph which allowed him passage through the siheyuan’s perimeter. Seeking discretion, Percy entered from the south side’s servant’s quarter via a Jump, then ducked between the artistically landscaped faux-ponds and granite mountains.

With his sister's guestroom in sight, he stopped to catch his breath.
His abdomen was now smarting something fierce, while his brain remained conflicted about his decision to trust Gwen.

“Ooo~, so good…”

Gwen's voice came through the window.

“Oh~ yeah, that IS nice…”

Petra’s soft moaning followed.

“Squeeze this part…”

"Oooh!”

Percy hesitated.

Was now the best time to break the news?

* * *

“Where do you suppose Percy’s gone?” Gwen asked Petra.

After the fiasco, the girls had retired to their guest quarters in the south wing.

Most of the wedding guests were gone, though a few stragglers elected to remain overnight. Taking advantage of the vacancy, Petra had moved in adjacent to her cousin, desiring to catch up on recent events. As for Mina and Tao, their mother had preferred Teleportation, seeing as crystals weren’t a concern for the Wangs, and that the woman had no desire to stay in the Liu’s estate for a single minute longer than necessary. After a brief goodbye, the siblings promised to organise a catch up once they were back in Shanghai, bidding Gwen and Petra farewell.

“I have no idea.” Petra’s husky-blue eyes flashed with displeasure. “From what you’ve told me of his deeds, I fail to comprehend why you’re so hung up on the little twat.”

“Well, he’s my brother, for one,” Gwen stated as though she had delivered an exhaustive response on the matter.

“I'd be careful. Percy's belly might be full, but his eyes are always hungry.” Petra jeered. “You won’t see me inviting him on July the 8th, there's no family and certainly no faith in the boy.”

“That's a little harsh?” Gwen nudged her cousin jovially, causing her to almost slip from the single bed. “He’s just a whiny kid who wants his piece of the world. It’s a perfectly normal response for someone undergoing his developmental stage. He thinks he's a Judge, but he's just a kid with a wispy wig, haha- ouch!”

Gwen bumped her head.

Petra half-sighed, half-groaned, rolling her neck to work out a kink. The post-framed single bed was somewhat cramped, barely boxing in two six-foot women and a four-foot pseudo-Kirin.

But the girls didn't mind. It was cosy, not to mention they were playing with Gwen's Familiar. Ariel’s meaty feet-pads had become divine objects of orgiastic tactile worship, pink-fetishes capable of setting off oxytocin in the most stout-hearted cynic.

With conversation at a standstill, the duo focused on molesting Ariel, digging their long white fingers through the soft rush of its undercoat, manipulating its body this way and that.

"Eeee... eEE... Eee." Ariel wiggled.

“Ooo… Ariel's new fur feels so good, such softness."

“Oh~ yeah, that IS nice…” Petra squeezed the frog of Ariel's hoof, splaying the fur. They were two perfect stress-pads, warm and springy, with just the right amount of tension.

“Squeeze this part…”

"EN-HUGNN..."

The moan was a little TOO masculine to belong to Petra.

‘Knock! Knock! Knock!’ Came the sound, thrice at the door.

The girls ceased their lallygagging.

“A visitor?” Gwen turned to Petra, her face full of bemusement. “At this time of night, tapping at my chamber door?”

"Who could it be?"

“Better not be a bloody Raven.” Gwen turned to command her Familiar.

"Don't you mean a Jackdaw?" Petra asked, recalling a famous poem.

“Ariel, can you check it out? If it starts rhyming, eat it.”

“EE!”

Ariel floated from her arms, drifting toward the door.

The sight of Gwen's flying pseudo-Kirin still filled Petra with wonder. Lacking wings, whatever Ariel was using to fly was supernatural, an ability tied to the Elemental Plane of Air.

“EEeee?!” Ariel be-screeched the door.

The silence outside remained unbroken; the stillness of the air gave no token.

“!”

Gwen felt a curious tingle in her bosom.
Gauging the intensity, she determined that whatever was outside wasn't dangerous. Taking Mayuree’s advise, she had elected to ignore minor 'tingles', as ‘avoiding every mishap,’ would make her abnormally 'interesting' life impossible. Back in Fudan, every Mage frightened by Caliban could tickle her spine.

Sensing no physical danger, Gwen opened the door.

“Hey, Sis,” a young man's voice called out to her.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Gwen spun on her heels.

There was Percy, her brother, the very devil they were ragging on just a second ago, laying half-slumped on the floor.

“PERCY! What are you doing here!”

Gwen knelt, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulders as to help him sit.

“Shhhh~.” Percy groaned. “Sorry Sis, I fucked up.”

“W-what did you do?” Gwen quickly inspected her little brother. Following the blood trail, she spotted the wound near his abdomen. “SHIT! You're bleeding! Oh my God! PETRA!”

“On it!” Petra put a hand to her Message Device.

“No!” Percy raised a trembling hand. “Please, no Grandfather. No commotion.”

Gwen halted Petra’s Message.

“Percy, what the hell happened to you?”

“I swam up shit-creek, Sis. I am sorry.” Percy’s face was as white as a sheet. “Have you got… a Healing spell? My injectors' are on cool-down.”

“I got better,” Petra tsked. “Here, stay still.”

She produced a Spell-Cube.

“Cure Moderate Wounds!”

“Ooo! That prickles!” Percy rolled to one side, gasping for breath. Visibly, his flesh mended, the nerve endings flaring as though ten thousand ants ate away at Percy's injury.

By now, the commotion had attracted NoM servants.

Gwen shooed them away, then gingerly pulled Percy into her guest room, hoping that none of the other guests had decided to have a sticky-beak at 2 AM in the morning.

“God you're strong,” Percy marvelled at the ease by which his sister picked him up with both arms then placed him upon her bed. He was almost six-feet by now, athletically muscled, weighing in at nearly seventy-odd kilograms.

“Shut up, fat ass,” Gwen chided her brother. "Don't move! You'll agitate the wound."

The girls laid Percy on the bed, then settled by his side.

“What happened?”

Percy caught his breath as the healing spell finished its run.

“Sis…” the boy looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him; his visage was so pale and loitering that Gwen’s heart melted.

“I killed someone.”

“…”
“…”

It took several seconds for the news to register.

“Like, a person?” Gwen inquired, wondering if her ears were deceiving her.

“You heard him right.” Petra finally breathed out. “How did you receive that wound, Percy?”

“I am sorry,” Percy repeated the phrase like a mantra, his eyes hunted by dark thoughts.

Could the boy be suffering from post-traumatic stress? Gwen wondered, playing the armchair psychologist. She had read about the infamous disorder in the Goodweekend Magazine when they interviewed ASDF soldiers returning from Iraq.

“It’s okay, we’ll deal with it,” Gwen assured her brother. The important thing, the article had said, was helping the victims understand why the trauma happened, and that they could control their unbidden episodes. “Just tell us what happened.”

Percy took a deep breath.
Gwen's gentle demeanour as she knelt beside him was exceptionally compelling.
The boy's words came slowly, reluctantly.

“When I saw your Kirin…”

“Eeh?” Ariel flittered around Percy, then patted his head. "Eee!"

“… I felt this... insane jealousy,” Percy muttered, his face a mask of shame and misery. “The idea that you found a Spirit of all things ate me up. It was the last straw, and I guess something snapped inside my head and I sort of just… ran like an idiot.”

Poor sod, Gwen patted Percy's hand, mimicking Ariel.
The green-eyed monster had almost claimed another victim.
Jealousy was like that; it could turn virtue to pitch, brother against sister.

“I didn't mean it, Percy …” Gwen moped.

“Percy, get to the point.” Petra felt a natural dislike for Percy's simpering. The boy was usually such an arrogant little 'young master' that his sudden demureness rubbed her the wrong way. She had seen plenty of whelps who thought themselves too good for the world in Moscow, but she had never seen a single one of them overcome with remorse because they took a human life. In their world, it was undeniable that life was cheap. NoMs died by the tens of thousands from starvation, predation, and human causes, what's another corpse if it was no one important?

Of all their relatives, Petra disliked Percy the most. Tao was annoying, but the young man was usually well-meaning; Mina was vapid, but she had a good heart; Richard? She liked Richard - as for Percy, Petra possessed an earnest desire to punch his teeth out.

“Out with it! What happened?”

“Pats! He’s in a fragile state of mind!” Gwen growled like a young leopardess defending its young. “Percy, you can tell us anything. Pats is worried, just like I am.”

“O-Okay…” Gwen's brother swallowed. Percy steadied himself, then began to tell his tale.

“So… like an idiot, I ran from the Estate. I was upset and super pissed. I wanted to blow off some steam by going to West Lake and fire off a few Salt Bolts into the water.”

“Go on.”

“I felt better, so I wandered around. Eventually, I got to this abandoned temple complex. At first, I thought it was empty, so I did some angry yelling…”

“Oh, Percy…” Gwen placed a hand on his thigh. “Understandable, keep going.”

Petra scoffed.

Gwen shot her cousin a look that said ‘come on, Cuz, cut me some slack.’

“...After a while, I got tired. It was stupid because I knew I had overtaxed myself. That means I had to use this-”

Percy took out the pendant.

“WOAAAA…” Gwen stood between Petra and Percy. “Percy, we’re with… good company. Maybe you should speak to Grandfather or Father about this. Also, I might not be the best person to consult about 'the pendant'.”

“Someone saw me.”

"WHAT!" Gwen almost leapt from the side of the bed. “SOMEONE SAW YOU?!”

“They were ROGUE MAGES! DESERTERS!” Percy petulantly protested. “They attacked me first! I defended myself!”

"Bloody hell, Percy..."

“I think they were living there,” Percy blubbered. “They wouldn’t let me go because I would have reported them. I couldn’t bluff them either, because I was wearing this…”

Indeed, Percy was wearing a very expensive looking tuxedo.

“So you killed them?” Petra asked in Gwen’s stead.

“Yes!” Percy groaned.

"Just like that?" Petra interjected. "Also, you said they. Earlier, you said 'one'. What's happening, Percy?"

"Pats, Percy's confused. We've both been through this. We know how bad it can get in the heat of the moment. Give the boy a chance to explain."

“Numbers and specs, Percy.”

“An… Abjurer.” Percy breathed out. “As for the other one, I think a Transmuter.”

“Sanctioned?”

Percy shook his head.

“Tier 1 or 2? Were they Chinese?”

“Yes, they were Chinese; they were barely tier 2.”

“How did they get through your Salt Shield?”

“I panicked. I tried to take out the Abjurer first, and couldn’t keep my Shield up.”

The girls looked at each other.

"How did some vagabond Mages wound you?" Petra frowned. Usually, deserters fled when confronted. What made them want to stay and fight a properly trained Mage?

“It’s the first time… I had to fight someone seriously,” Percy confessed. “I still can't believe I killed them. They were just two women.”

“A woman?” Gwen raised her head. “TWO? You killed TWO women?”

“Vot der'mo!” Petra swore.

For Gwen, the reality of Percy’s confession struck her like a bolt to the brain.

Her brother, a killer?
He was just a boy.

What a fucked up world.

Then again, were her hands so clean? There were accidents, such as those poor sods at Blackheath and that poor pig-tail woman in Hengsha. Then there were those she had willingly murdered, like Faceless, Nephres, and then Choi.

She felt as though she had to do something. What had she desired after the deed? After stepping back, her feet inch-deep in blood and her hands scarlet with coagulated gore? What could she give Percy that no one had given her?

Compassion, perhaps.
Empathy.
Someone who didn't think killing was no big deal.
Someone who understood.

“Oh, you poor thing.” She enveloped her brother with both arms. “It’s okay Percy. We'll get through this.”

Surprised by her unconditional affection, Percy dug his face against her collarbone, breathing heavily, as though taking in a part of her.

“Thanks for understanding, Sis, but I’ve got bigger problems.”

“Bigger… problems?”

“I used… 'you know what' on one of those Deserters.”

‘The... erm... Amulet?’ Gwen took a moment before she digested the full extent of Percy’s doubly horrid confession.

“Yeah, the Kirin Stone…”

“Holy shit, Percy…” Gwen looked over at Petra.

“Should I leave?” Petra inherently understood that this was ‘one of those times’.

“I am sorry, Petra,” Gwen apologised guiltily. “This isn't something I have jurisdiction on.”

“It’s fine.” Petra picked up her jacket. “I’ll be in my room.”

Gwen wanted to apologise, but her cousin was far too a consummate professional to linger. Families had their secrets. Petra knew the Songs' had theirs. If she was to know, Gwen would tell it. No mere secret could drive a wedge between them.

“Gwen.” Percy waited until Petra audibly entered her room. “I life-drained one of them.”

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” Gwen hissed, thinking of uncle Jun, thinking of babulya and the family. If anyone should find out, it would be the end of the Songs. "How is it even possible? The spell is incomplete! It's not supposed to be Nec- the N word. Its just a part of the ritual, right?"

“I got scared… I was low on vitality. They caught me in the middle of the ritual. I was almost OOM, and it just… happened.”

Her brother groaned; a wail of abject misery tinged with desperation.

“Fuck’n oath Percy.” She leaned back, but soon changed her mind. Instead, Gwen wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Gods, we’re a fucked up duo, you and I.”

“Not only that,” Percy continued, his voice barely a whisper. “I think I stole her Abjuration talent.”

Gwen's arm turned rigid.
Talent Consumption?
Percy wasn't a Void Mage, so how was such a thing possible?
Shivering, she thought of Edgar. The young man could use his Dust Devil to drain the vitality from its victims. He had done it to Debora, or was it Faceless? She knew for sure he had done it to her. But it wasn't as though anyone knew how Caliban's Consume worked, it was just an observable phenomenon.

“Its true,” Percy muttered guiltily. “Look.”

Her brother got off the bed and stood in the centre of the unfurnished room.

“Shield!”

A semi-dome consisting of a thin layer of Salt spontaneously appeared.

Gwen recognised the tell-tale signs of Abjuration.
It was nothing impressive. Almost every Mage at Fudan could manifest a split-second Shield, but Percy had just begun his training. Abjuration was one of his secondary schools, one that required time and dedication.

“I could barely reflex-cast my Shield before, and the lag was usually half a second,” Percy explained. “But now… you know.”

Gwen did know. She had walked the same well-worn path. Gwen's recollection brought memories of the aftermath of Blackheath. Though her knowledge of Spellcraft had been dog shit and she had a terrible understanding of theory, she could sudden Shield herself like a bona fide Abjurer, going as far as to undertake Gunther's Signature non-Newtonian Shield.

“Tell me again what happened.” Gwen attempted to retrace Percy's steps.

Percy explained as before: he was almost OOM when the two attacked him. He tried taking down the Abjurer, but the Transmuter got him. In desperation, Percy ended up breaking through the Abjurer’s Shield, used Drain Life while wounded, then used his replenished vitality to overpower the second attacker. Unfortunately, his vitality and his mana weren't holding up, so he ended up using the AOE effect of Drain Life to nail the Transmuter.

“Where are the bodies?” Gwen loathed the prospect of having to go and clean up Percy's mess.

“In here.” Percy flashed a Medium Storage Ring.

“I am sorry? You mean-”

“They just fit,” Percy explained nervously. “They were both very short and very… skinny.”

Gwen stared at Percy's ring finger in horror.

“Percy… God! Eurgh... why?”

“I just-”

"Just... think of a way to dispose of it."

“What should I do?” Percy choked. “I got scared. I wanted to go to the authorities, hand myself in, I believe I am justified in defending myself. But if they find the Necroma-”

“SHUSH! SHHHH!” Gwen cupped his lips. “Don't speak the N-word.”

Her brother nodded obediently.

Gwen wracked her brain for a logical outcome.
Her brother had killed in self-defence.
His victims were vagabonds and deserters, according to Percy.
Usually, that meant they had to file a report.
With Percy’s connection and the Lius now under their thumb, her Grandfather could easily prove his innocence.

BUT - what if the coroner detected Necromancy on the corpses?
How the fuck were they going to explain that?
What if someone else used Percy's crime as an excuse to play silly buggers with the Songs, as the Lius would have done?

Perhaps they should bury the bodies, smite the evidence.

No, that wouldn’t work either.

How the fuck do two teenagers hide evidence in a world with bloody Divination? What if some someone ‘dousing’ upped a corpse or some shit?

Cremate the cadavers?
Where the fuck are they going to find a crematorium?
Get Uncle Jun in on this?
Did she REALLY want Jun to play clean-up while Ayxin watched? What the hell are they would they say to the Dragon-kin? Hey, let me borrow uncle Jun for a bit, we need to turn some bodies to ash, you want in on this action?

Percy moved his hand over the floor.

Two corpses materialised.

Both were dressed in rags.
The first one was barely five-foot-two, skeletal and gaunt, with yellow skin that sagged from her bones. The second was likewise slumped over, but there was a wound on her gut, its jagged wound suggesting a Salt Shard.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Gwen hissed, overwhelmed by the sight and stench. “PERCY! WHY would you dump them HERE of all places?!”

Percy stared at his sister, dumbstruck.

“I thought you wanted to see…”

‘Creak…’

The noise may very well have been the innocent swaying of an unlocked door or window, but to Gwen, with the evidence of her brother’s kills fresh on the floor, the noise may as well be a SWAT team bursting through the window.

A flush of scarlet washed over Gwen's ashen face.

“Caliban!”

Nothing. Caliban remained dormant.

“SHIT!”

Should she force Percy to stow the corpses again? She could stow them herself, but the thought of having her Ring play home to fresh cadavers, especially ones that reeked like rancid cheese and old, mouldy rags, petrified her.

She would have to do this the hard way.

“Percy, stand back.”

Percy did as he was told.

Forcing her mind into painful focus, she channelled a glob of Void matter, then deposited the tenebrous mass onto the horrid shapes below her.

To Gwen's relief. It worked.

There were now two craters in the middle of the room. Blood, hair and clothes, even the pavement below had been sent into the Void.

Bloody oath, I would make an excellent Season 1 and 2 Dexter, Gwen studied her handiwork, then felt immediately overwhelmed by the reality of what she had just done.

FUCK, I just became an accessory to Murder!

She looked over at Percy.

Her brother was staring at the missing granite slabs as though in a trance.

Gwen sighed.

“Percy, come here.”

Her brother came to her, his feet like lead, his dazed orbs the eyes of a haunted man.

“It’ll be okay, bud.” She kissed him on the forehead.

That’s what Gwen would have wanted when everything had gone to shit. Someone to hold her, to tell her everything was dandy and that life would go on as before.

She mustered her best smile for her brother.

Percy's eyes were like their father’s; two dark hazel orbs hidden behind long slits that softened an otherwise angular face. His mouth, and his nose, however, were from Helena, a little overtly sensuous for a boy, giving Percy a permanently sulky expression that Gwen knew some girls would love.

Percy.

The Gwen of this world had loved her brother as well, even knowing that their vastly different magical talent would drive them apart. Was it genuine affection? Or was it a condition of her loneliness, Gwen would never know. In her old world, she had fancied herself a mother to her adolescent sibling, taking him out to dinner when neither of their parents came home, helping him with homework, buying him study guides with her part-time job money.

In Percy's eyes, she saw hope, desperation, awe... and hunger.

It was good that Percy came to her, confessing his jealousy, looking to her to save him from himself. She had thought the boy gone down a Path she couldn't follow, but now his prodigious return made her giddy with happiness.

Like Pope said, "To err is human; to forgive, divine."

Percy had learned to accept her help; his coming to her of all people after a singularly traumatic event was all the proof she needed that she meant something to him, that he trusted her enough to rely on her, and that alone drowned out the noise from becoming an accomplice.

In the secret court of her heart, she had acquitted Percy on all accounts.

“Sis…”

Her brother nuzzled her shoulders. His hair had a scent of brine, like the ocean.

But the time for sentimentalism was over. It was time for action.

“Percy, we can’t keep this from the people we love,” she advised, dispensing the foresight of her adult mind. “You need help, and I need help. We need to tell Grandfather. He was the one who taught you the Rite, yeah?”

“The 'Secret' Rite,” Percy noted with a hint of sardonicism.

“Look, I’ve 'heard' of it,” Gwen continued. “That’s not important right now. We need to fortify your secret with as many trustworthy custodians as we can. Should we tell Uncle Jun and Dad?”

“… Probably not Dad.”

Gwen tittered, her sniggering bitter and full of disappointment.

“Alright… Jun and Grandfather then. I’ll Message them now.”

“Sis?”

Gwen paused in the process of activating her Message Device.

“Thanks.”

“Hey.” Gwen flicked her hair cooly. “No worries, Champ. I got your back.”

Percy laughed.
It was a sound thrilling to her ear, a sound she hadn't heard since Sydney.

It was good to see that her brother still had a sense of humour, though now she had a far more harrowing task at hand. She hoped to God that Jun wasn’t doing the horizontal draconic-fandango when she rang.

She made sure that her Message was on silent.

“I’ll be back, stay here.”

Gwen made the calls outside, leaving her brother in the bedroom to ruminate on what he would say to Guo and Jun.

“Hi, Uncle Jun? You asleep? Er, is this a good time? Is it? Okay! Good! Ha! Thank God, phew! Hahaha- anyway, we got a situation here…”

* * *

Percy watched his sister through a gap left by the door.

Curiously, after his 'bonding' with the amulet, The Kirin Stone no longer ‘went ape-shit’. It had remained dormant the whole while they had conversed, even when she hugged him.

“Ariel, come here,” he commanded her Familiar.

“Eeee?”

Ariel drifted closer.

Percy ran a hand through its mane, feeling its luxurious coat run through his fingers.

“Beautiful.”

“Eee!” Ariel coiled itself around its mistress’s kin, sensing her familiar scent about his body, his hand, and his hair.

“But you’re imperfect.” Percy allowed Ariel’s tiny whisker-tentacles to play with his fingers. “You have lots of room to grow yet.”

“Eee! Eee.”

Ariel's draconian nose sniffed Percy's hand.

"EE?!" it recoiled, seemingly confused.

"Ariel?" Gwen pushed through the door of her bedroom. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Percy carefully slipped his hand into his pockets. "I was playing with Ariel. He's gotten cuter!"

"Isn't he?!" Gwen beamed.

Her expression said to Percy that the Guo and Jun would both be joining the two of them.

“Righto jackaroo." His sister slapped his back. "Saddle up; you and I, we're in for a wild ride."