***

In the aftermath of the Moonbreaking, the Black Door became more active, causing frequent peaks of theta activity. Its presence became unbearable even to most non-mages, and in the chaos following the Storming of Landfall, in 2616 it was hastily decided to seal it with silver and concrete.

Infrequent, but strong theta peaks were detected through the following year, then fell sharply in the summer of 2617. After that, the Door’s activity fell below the detection threshold of detectors available back then, and the site received little attention for thirty more years, until…

“Private Cerical, could we have a word?” someone asks, making me jump out of my skin. Is there a prize for creeping on me while I’m reading?

I look up from my tablet - Sergeant Gehat is sitting across my table in the R&R room. Her brow is furrowed, and there are shadows under her eyes. She’s always grim, but she looks particularly troubled. She’s holding a glass full of some violet drink.

“Of course,” I say. It’s past midnight, and we’re the only ones in the room. I’m tired, but Kaelich and Althea are watching a movie about warrior nuns in our bunk room, while loudly remarking on how attractive every character is, and that was driving me mad in several ways.

“Care for a drink?” Gehat asks, offering a flask of the same violet fluid.

“I have my cocoa, thank you,” I say, pointing at my half-empty cup.

“A stronger drink would make this easier,” she says. “But you always take the hard path, don’t you.”

What does she want from me? Is this going to be her variant of Sareas’ threatening talk? I’m exhausted and worried, and if another officer starts that kind of bullshit, I might scream, or stab her.

“What is this about?” I ask.

She takes a sip from her cup, and I smell alcohol even across the table.

I never gave Gehat much thought. She’s lazy and sloppy. But I remember Quicksilver’s words - she had a great academic and service record, before some mess in Zelenia. Which is where she got the scar going from her forehead to the cheek, I suppose - a scar she chose to keep, since we have access to regenerative surgery.

I guess she’s really going for the grizzled veteran look. And admittedly, it works, she could star in a thriller sim as the tough cop.

“You spend a lot of time with your team mage,” she says.

Lady of Life, why does everyone say that? We spend a normal amount of time together, appropriate for two co-workers.

“That’s unavoidable, given we have the same job and share the same room,” I say. “Actually, the fact that we split during our deployment at the University is against regulation. We should ask an officer’s approval for that.”

Gehat looks at me, with a blank expression. I stare at her nose.

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or you’re really like that,” she says. “But I used to wonder the same about Sorivel and Kaelich, and they’re actually like that, so I guess they send the crazy ones to Team Blue, as a policy.”

“Kaelich and Sorivel are competent and loyal,” I answer, before I can even think about it. I barely stop myself before adding unlike your team.

“They surely have your loyalty,” she says. She sounds appreciative, and I realize just how quickly I jumped to defend my teammates, for all their flaws.

“And so does Althea,” I add. “She’s a valuable team member.”

Gehat rolls her eyes. “Yeah, valuable team member, that’s definitely how you see her,” she snorts.

I blush, but force myself to look straight in the eyes. Well, straight on the nose. “Our personal relationship is irrelevant, since we’re not in the same command chain, and anyway has never exceeded the bounds of…”

“I don’t care if you fuck her,” she says, matter-of-fact. “Queen of Life, if she were just another agent, I’d cheer for you, because holy fuck she’s hot. But that’s not the problem. I… have to warn you, about getting too close to a mage. Even if I doubt you’ll listen.”

“Having a close friendship with a mage doesn’t change my dedication to the Agency. Anyway, Althea is more loyal to our cause than most ThauCon agents,” I say.

“I don’t doubt it,” Gehat says, and I expect something like Sareas’ tirade about mages not being really part of the team, but she stops, and when she talks again, the voice catches in her throat. “My team mage - not fucking Jaeleri of course, the one before him - was loyal to the cause. She was also my best friend.”

I startle. This…isn’t going the way I expected. Is she cautioning me against mages because she had a bad breakup, or friend-breakup? That would be extremely unprofessional, our personal grievances should not influence our professional judgment.

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Gehat drinks from her cup. Her hands shake, and she winces, as if in physical pain. I have to reassess. Whatever this is about, it looks more serious than a breakup.

“Did… something happen to your team mage?” I ask, tentatively.

She doesn’t answer. She puts down her cup, and the clink is deafening in the silent room.

“I don’t usually care to justify myself,” she says. “But you won’t take me seriously, if you think I’m a lazy freeloader waiting for an honorable discharge. So, know that I meant to have a career within ThauCon. So did Mage Kalaith, and so did our friends - An Koi, who is still with me, and Deralit, who isn’t.”

An Koi is her cold, distant drone controller, the one who spoke about demons in Saevin. A shiver runs down my spine.

“It’s not like I don’t believe in the Agency anymore,” Gehat goes on. “Fuck. I’m more convinced our job is important. I just don’t have much left to give. I lost my two best friends, there in South Zelenia, and An Koi... isn't who she used to be. And in the end, it was because I let myself become too close to Kalaith.”

“What happened?” I ask.

She winces.

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to spell it out,” she says. “But if I didn’t want to talk about it, I guess I should have stayed silent. So, here’s my sad story. My friend, the mage, started hearing voices. She thought she could deal with it. I trusted her, because she was smart, and loyal.”

Suddenly, I don’t want her to go on, I don’t want to hear the rest, but telling her to stop would mean conceding that she might be right, and admitting that would put a wedge between me and Althea that I’d never be able to remove. So I clench my hands, letting the nails cut into my palm, and say nothing.

“Kalaith became paranoid,” Gehat says. “And even as she railed against shadows, even as she raved about the Lady in White, I thought we could help her. Until it was too late, and she attacked us, mistaking us for demons. My best friend killed Deralit and badly hurt An Koi. Then I shot her with five silver bullets.”

That’s not what Quicksilver said - that they had fought a demon. But they said the information was scarce and contradictory. Probably, the official records were altered so that Kalaith’s family would receive benefits for a death on the line of duty.

I focus on that, because if I consider anything else about Gehat’s story, I’ll scream.

There’s a pause, then she adds, her voice emotionless. “I’m not sure that would work with Althea, she’s stronger than Kalaith. Maybe you should start keeping a theta grenade under your bed.”

Part of me wants to snap at the Sergeant - Althea would never do that, Althea has perfect control, this won’t happen to us.

But I’ve sworn to stand against the Dark Power, and platitudes won’t protect me from it. Also, I realize belatedly, if I said anything like that, I’d be basically insulting Gehat’s dead friend.

“Mages are dangerous,” Gehat says. “I don’t enjoy telling you this. And there’s too much bullshit about distrusting mages because they’re sinful, or not really human, or because the Council has some shadowy plan. But that’s not it at all. Kalaith was as good a person as I ever met. She would never have hurt us - she’d have protected us to her last breath. But the thing that attacked us, the thing I shot in Saevin, wasn’t Kalaith anymore.”

She takes another sip of her drink, and looks away as she speaks, her tone softer.

“You can probably trust Althea. She’s not like Jaeleri, who should never have been allowed to leave the Glass Tower. But you can’t trust her power. The reason Council Mages aren’t part of the Agency is that part of our duty is to keep watch on them, for everyone’s sake. And if we get too close, we can’t do that. If I…”

Her voice catches, but she clears her throat, and she goes on, slowly, as if forcing out every word.

“If I had reported Kalaith as soon as she developed symptoms of Else-madness, she would have been furious - she would have been dragged back to the Glass Tower, willing or not. She would probably hate me. But she and Deralit would be alive.”

She looks at me, and I try to speak, to say something, but I can’t. I feel like I’m stuck between two huge gears that are grinding against each other, squashing me, because I can’t dismiss what Gehat says - I know this is a serious, important warning, and it cost her to voice her. But I also can’t tell her I’ll keep a distance from Althea, because I know that would be a lie, and I can’t change that more than I can stop the snow from falling.

Lords and Ladies, give me wisdom. For the first time in a long time, I find myself asking for their advice, as I was taught to do as a child.

Lord of Skies, lord of justice and strength - no, there’s nothing just about a situation where friends kill friends, because of a madness they can’t control.

Lord of Sands, lord of survival, and fortitude, and patience - he’d tell me to wait and see, but that never worked for me. I need to say something, to have some solution, or I’ll be torn apart by doubt.

Lord of Seas, of victory and power, I know his advice. To steel my heart and do what I need to win and uphold my duty.

Lady of Life, of healing, of love - curse be upon me, I know her advice too.

Lady of Light, Lady of righteousness, protector of the weak, what am I supposed to do? Why is righteousness so tangled, sometimes? It all seemed much easier in training, when mages were shadowy, evil figures.

Lady of Pains, of death, suffering, and sacrifice. Of oaths and retribution.

For all my parents’ dismay, she was always the one I felt closer to. And with a sigh of relief, I realize that in her teachings, I find an answer. Your oaths bind you, but guide you too. Death and suffering can’t be avoided, but they can be directed where they do the most good, or the least evil.

“I see,” I say. I wonder if I took too long to answer, but the Sergeant is just sitting there, saying nothing.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” I say. “This was… important for me to hear.”

“Will you keep some more distance from Althea?” She asks, sounding surprised.

“No,” I say. “I’ll trust her, as a team member and as a… friend.”

I pause before the word friend. Not because I hope to be something more, but because I’m not used to calling someone a friend, and mean it deeply.

“But I’ll keep your words like water,” I say, even if I realize the idiom doesn’t translate well in Fallish. “I will trust Althea, but not her powers. I’ll remember that she can’t be sure her control will always hold. And if she starts losing it, I’ll do what I must, without flinching. No matter if that means writing a report to the Council, or running a silver blade through her heart.”