Mina stared at the place that Carl had been sitting a moment earlier. The suns shone brightly over her head, causing her to squint despite it having been night only a second prior. Where…

"Carl, I have triumphed," said a voice she'd never heard somewhere behind her.

Mina looked down. What's happened to me? Where am I? Why… Is this blood? How…

She turned to her left and smiled with relief when she saw Carl standing at her side and looking towards the rear of her steamcar. Somehow, she felt that having him near would prevent misfortune from befalling her again, as it so often seemed to have done. She prepared to open her mouth to give thanks again, to attempt to convey some amount of the gratitude she felt towards him for the inexplicable feats he'd performed in the course of saving her, but her gaze moved farther backwards until she saw him.

Normannus had found her.

Her mind went blank.

Her fears, foolishly thought to be gone forever, had simply been waiting.

She thought to conceal herself, to delay the inevitable, but that had never succeeded in the past.

She knew how this would end. How it always ended. Better to yield sooner, to at least attempt to avoid further harm to herself.

She had no wish to die.

She only wished to be let alone.

To not feel fear.

"Isemeine Charus," a voice resounded in her head, breaking through the weight of her terrors.

She whimpered.

"Normannus is dead," the voice stated. "I personally tore his head from his body. He cannot torment you any longer."

Dead?

He…

But he was a Hero!

Could it…

A Hero had not been killed in centuries!

Surely not…

She turned her head to the side, taking a shuddering gasp as some of her vision returned. "Truly?" she stuttered, staring at a crouching, armored creature next to her.

"Yes," the strange, blue-skinned creature said, nodding with what seemed to be complete confidence.

Mina's eyes turned further to the side, and it was then that she realized what she had seen had been the head of Normannus.

Only the head.

Severed from his body.

She felt as if she were awash in an ocean of joy, of relief, of hope. "He…" She felt tears welling up in her eyes. "He won't return?" she asked, needing to hear the confirmation.

"Never," said the creature, looking down benevolently upon her.

Gone.

The Hero was gone.

Forever.

Never again would she be subjected to many of her fears.

Mina watched the head, half-expecting it to come to life somehow. When this didn't come to pass, she began to feel something different.

Something she'd not felt in a very long time.

Something she'd been too afraid to feel.

Rage.

Mina stood quickly, heedless of her posture or how lady-like she was behaving, and stamped down on top of the severed head with all of her might.

Her mind again went blank as she vented an entire lifetime of pain and anger on the remains of one of her greatest oppressors.

For the way in which her own mother and father had treated her as a thing to be of use to them instead of a person, she screamed her feelings as loudly as she was able.

For the way in which her favorite tutor had been hanged to death before her eyes for the crime of thinking, she kicked the object of her rage with all her might.

For the way in which her own sisters had hated her because it furthered their interests in succeeding the throne or gaining power, she beat her untrained fists against the head, heedless of the damage she incurred.

For the way in which she had not once been capable of possessing a friend because every member of the court had feared being seen with someone who'd been tainted, she raised the head up and smashed it down on a rock over and over.

For the way in which she had been ogled and lusted after by countless suitors who saw her as nothing more than an ornament for their beds, she kicked the head against that same rock repeatedly.

For the way in which she had been betrothed to a monster who used her over and over without even a care for the injuries he caused, she did her utmost to burn the head to ash with what feeble amounts of fire energy she was capable of drawing upon given her lack of magical proficiency.

None of these acts were sufficient, however.

The head was her fear, and she was not strong enough to defeat it alone, no matter how she struggled.

Isemeine Charus had not been raised to be strong.

Isemeine Charus had been raised to be obedient.

To be weak.

To be used.

She was no longer Isemeine Charus, however.

She was Mina now. Weak though she may still be, she was no longer subject to the whims of her mother and father or the so-called will of the people.

To Mina, this was the first step. This was the first of many shackles from which she must break herself free.

Mina brought the head back to the purple-haired creature who was strong enough to kill even a Hero—a feat known to be impossible. "Destroy it," she begged the creature, "please!"

The task was not one she could accomplish alone.

No, eighteen years had passed, and she knew well enough from her time with Mister Godfry that the knowledge learned as a child was the most difficult to unlearn. She was truly weak—too weak even to crush the object representing her every fear beneath her booted heel.

She had resolved herself, however. She would become strong. No matter whether she must request help from others, no matter whether she would need to change herself, this would come to pass.

She would not be used again.

She would not be weak.

"How?" the blue-skinned creature asked simply, seeming to understand her thoughts.

"Violently," Mina growled. She needed to see the manifestation of her fears not destroyed, but brutalized.

The creature nodded. "We are of the same mind," it said in its oddly soothing voice.

Mina's fears floated off the ground, and she stepped back, standing beside the blue-skinned creature. She watched, unblinking, as her fears moved away, then were crushed so powerfully that they exploded outwards.

She felt a rush, a surge of energy flow through her at that moment, and it was as if she'd been truly reborn. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the sensation.

She was free.

Truly free now, with none to dictate the manner in which she would live her life.

Time passed as Mina reveled in this next chapter of her existence.

Then she recalled her manners.

Her eyes opened, and she looked again to the blue creature on her right. "My apologies, I've been quite rude. I once was Isemeine Charus, but now I am simply Mina," she said by way of introduction.

The creature inclined its head in a regal manner. "I greet you, Mina. I am Ir'alith, protector of the southern forests. I have heard of you from Valgud Flintbrow."

Mina stared as she took a couple steps back, feeling hands come to rest on her tensed shoulders in a way that reassured her.

Carl was here. He cared. Surely he wouldn't…

"You're," she began, struggling to get the words out as she stared into a pair of bright green eyes. "Ir'alith? The Ir'alith?" she pushed ahead incredulously. "The d…" she trailed off when she saw the creature's—Ir'alith, the Demon Queen's—sharp teeth open in a cruel grin. "Oh."

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Mina's thoughts whirled. How… Why is she here? And… Does she not hate humans above all else, to the extent that she seeks to kill us at any cost? Her gaze sought out the details of the Demon Queen that she had been taught of for so many years, the living nightmare creature that was known to anyone in Charus City.

The Demon Queen she had been taught of had black, pitiless eyes that could steal the soul of any who met them.

Ir'alith had green eyes which seemed fairly normal, even if they did have a slight glow to them.

The Demon Queen's maw was ever overflowing with the blood of slain humans, her only means of sustenance.

Ir'alith's terrifying, pointed, white teeth were shining brightly in the light of day, with no sign of blood in evidence.

The Demon Queen she had been taught of bathed in the blood of the humans that she killed in order to retain her eternal youth.

Ir'alith… Well, she had just killed a Hero, so it was logical that there would be blood from the no doubt impressive battle that had taken place. Whether she was young wasn't something that was easily determined.

The Demon Queen garbed herself enticingly to distract human men and lead them to their deaths.

Ir'alith wore a set of glowing armor that was most certainly not form-fitting, nor was it in any way enticing, though it seemed likely to help with facilitating the deaths of any who fought with her.

The Demon Queen's skin was red, a product of the blood that she had bathed in for countless years.

Ir'alith's skin was most certainly blue.

"She's a friend of mine," Carl said at that moment, the first words he'd spoken since matters had changed. "A close friend."

If his words hadn't been enough to further stagger the mind, the reaction of Ir'alith, the being feared by all of humanity as the terrifying Demon Queen, was a blow that sent Mina's thoughts scattering in every direction.

She blushed.

Not simply a light blush of the cheeks, either, but a uniform blush that tinted every part of her visible skin to a dark purple.

"Y-yes, I am!" Ir'alith said in a certain manner of tone.

Mina had witnessed the manner in which her sisters had behaved when being courted, and she recognized fully the signs of a woman who was fond of a man, even if that woman happened to not be human.

He's mentioned his daughters, which must mean he has a wife… Mina stared. Surely not… No, they don't seem to be quite familiar enough. She turned around, and Carl seemed to be focused entirely on her rather than admiring the blush of Ir'alith, who seemed to quite obviously be fond of him. "You," she began, wanting to ask whether Carl was fornicating with the Demon Queen, but she quickly changed her tack as she realized how potentially disastrous such a question would be if she were wrong, "know her?" she finished, trying to subtly imply her intent with her eyebrows.

"I do," Carl replied immediately, and with a certain lack of nuance that she felt meant he had not quite grasped her meaning.

Mina's imagination threatened to spin her thoughts entirely out of control, and she was forced to abandon a majority of fantastical ideas for the sake of not wishing to upset Ir'alith, who seemed to not quite match up to the Demon Queen she'd been described as, yet was undeniably a person of unfathomable power. She returned her attentions to the person in question. "I…" This was foolish of me to consider so quickly after we've just met and in addition to everything else. "I've been rude once again," she acknowledged, hoping neither of them had understood precisely what she'd been truly rude about. "It's a pleasure to meet you, um, Your Majesty?"

"Ir'alith is my name," said the Demon Queen in a tone that could be perhaps described as not hostile. "We have no such titles."

"Ir'alith, then" Mina corrected herself, not wishing to offend. Is she truly the same Demon Queen I've been taught about for so many years? Upon whom Mister Osteler laid any number of unprovoked atrocities during my history lessons? "You…" No, I shouldn't… But if it's true… "You seem much more friendly than I'd heard," she said, affecting the indirect manner of questioning used by the nobles.

"I am never otherwise without cause," Ir'alith said in the same tone she'd used previously, which Mina now recognized as being amused.

"That…" Mina turned back to gauge Carl's expression, but he was nodding along in agreement. And he did say he regards her as a friend. Even if he's an outworlder, he's still human, is he not? If the stories of Ir'alith were true, then she would certainly not be a friend to him.

She began to stroke her chin, her thoughts roiling. Yes, it makes sense. It's just as Mister Godfry said. Nothing can be believed without seeing it with one's own eyes, without considering it on the basis of known facts. What reason would a being who can slay a Hero with her own hands have for hating humans to the extent that I've been taught? If she were truly as bloodthirsty as it's been said, with that sort of power she could surely kill any number of us with ease, leaving none of our cities remaining.

Then she grew depressed. Has it all been lies? The so-called betrayal of treaties, our campaigns for vengeance and extermination to prevent foretold horrors, even the words of the Churches which claim the devilspawn sought to destroy us from the shadows? But… If that were so, then where do the lies end? Do the long-ears not seek to reclaim their lands at our expense? Are we not at war with the dwarves for failing to uphold their part of our trade agreement?

Are we the true evil of this world?

It was a distressing thought which had no simple way of being answered at this time.

"—Mina, of course," Carl said, interrupting her ruminations.

Mina started, realizing she'd become engrossed in her considerations. She looked at the first thing she saw, which happened to be her steamcar. How… It must have been driven all this way? But this… Surely this is not somewhere in the Charus Kingdom! And yet my steamcar is…

She approached it nervously, again forgetting there were others nearby in her single-minded concern for the creation into which she'd invested nearly every "free" moment she'd had for over a year. Her hands brushed over the familiar metal, feeling the heat of the near-midday suns on it, and she walked around it, reaching out with her slight capacity for channeling earth energy in order to perform deeper inspections on the parts in order to ensure their integrity.

Her eyes widened at the results of her searching. "What…" She felt around further. No! The glyphs, they've all been damaged! "What's happened to the glyphs?!" she called out, feeling her meticulous work crumbling around her with the changes she was detecting in all the magical glyphs that she had spent weeks begging and cajoling old Balan to inscribe upon various components, even being forced to beg her wretched mother for her aid in gaining the old mage's reluctant assistance.

"I repaired them," said Ir'alith.

She's done what? Does she have even the slightest comprehension of the time that it took to create such perfectly-drawn runes, and how many days it took Balan to manage it with how they sapped his mana? Mina glared at the blue-skinned devil who stood on the other side of the car, suddenly feeling that the term was apt. "You've done what?!" she exclaimed, feeling her stomach clench painfully at the knowledge that the steamcar she had so arduously created had been ruined by the whims of the Demon Queen. "But…"

Abruptly, the car ceased to be on the ground and rose up before her open-mouthed face. Once it had reached a sufficient height, it rolled over and then lowered to hover, motionless, over the ground.

"The glyphs I found on the car were improperly crafted," Ir'alith said, having appeared next to Mina as she gawked at her steamcar, the weight of which should have been too great for any but the strongest mages to lift. "I mean no offense, but you humans are not suited to the use of magic. The little you gleaned from my ancestors has truly been wasted."

Before Mina's stunned eyes, the underside of her steamcar lit up as dozens of glyphs began to glow simultaneously with a purple light.

"These are basic glyphs of durability," Ir'alith continued, her tail reaching out to point at a few of them for emphasis. "This," she said, a different, more familiar glyph drawing itself in the air with not even a gesture or flick of her hand, "is a flawed version of the glyph, which imparts only a fraction of its potential."

"But—But…" Mina stared, unable to even complete her protestations as she attempted to comprehend the fact that she was witnessing so many distinct uses of magic, from the way the steamcar was being held perfectly in place, presumably with impossibly precise use of wind energy, to the manner in which dozens of glyphs were being illuminated, presumably using again the same level of precision with managing fire energy, and then again using fire energy—somehow once again in the color purple, which was not a natural color of flame—to casually draw in the air as though using pen on paper.

She'd never heard of a mage who could manage this level of skill and technique. And maintaining it all without even the slightest strain? Conversing while doing so?

Mina turned her stare to Ir'alith. Is she a deity?

"I had wondered at the strange use of magic by which you heated the engine," Ir'alith remarked. "I added a glyph of fire onto it, and it will remain heated now without the need for—"

"I've been such a fool!" Mina said, her thoughts feeling as though they would explode from her head. "Of course!" I'd thought myself so clever being able to channel fire energy down through the steering column that I never considered—

"Perhaps at another time we could combine our thoughts," Ir'alith said. "Your car has brought me great joy, and with our skills joined—"

"Yes! I feel now that ideas are positively bursting out of my head," Mina agreed, her imagination exploding with possibilities.

"Collect them," Ir'alith said. "When next we meet, we will further the improvements."

"Okay, yes…" Mina said, stroking her chin as she looked down at the car, the diagram of its blueprints turning over in her mind. With the lessened exhaust as a result of the improvements made to the condenser and the increased durability from the glyphs, there's no reason why I shouldn't have done this to begin with! I was too set in thinking of maintaining the same functions of the steamcar's mechanics that I never considered… Could the turbine be spun directly using some sort of glyph? Certainly nothing I could create, but if it were someone extremely knowledgeable and skilled with magic…

Is there a need for an engine of this sort at all? Surely I could—No, then I would have no means to control it. But perhaps what I require now is not an engine to produce force with which to spin the wheels but a mechanism for controlling wheels that can be spun directly by magic.

Her eyes widened. Or, perhaps if Ir'alith were to lend her magical expertise, would it be possible to create a steamcar without wheels at all? One capable of flight? I suppose it would no longer even be powered by steam once it reached such a point, but—

A flickering at the edge of her vision drew her gaze, and her mouth fell open once more as she watched a portal appear almost instantaneously, unlike the ones she'd seen multiple mages create which tended to take several minutes to stabilize at a minimum.

Ir'alith walked through, and the portal closed immediately after, leaving no doubt who had created it.

"Did she just create a portal?" Mina asked, dumbfounded. And with such ease! And I questioned her capability for creating simple glyphs to enhance the durability of—

"Yes?" Carl said, as though it should be obvious.

A sudden exhaustion overtook Mina. "I'm going to sit," she said wearily, slouching into the passenger seat of her steamcar in an unrefined manner that she knew would have upset her mother. But sitting in her steamcar brought back the realizations she'd been on the brink of when first she discovered the distressing anomalies in her situation. Her mind recounted them deftly.

In Charus City prior to leaving, Percevale had referred to Carl as a deity, claiming this as the reason why he had survived a Trial of Faith despite so obviously speaking blasphemy.

Carl had certainly done nothing to dissuade the man from his belief, seeming only to encourage it.

He'd then blown a massive hole in the city's magically reinforced wall with his spear, creating a track in the ground as far as she could see.

Soon after driving through that same hole, she had suddenly been here.

Some time seemed to have passed, too.

And there was a significant amount of blood in her steamcar, which had not been present when last she recalled. Additionally a small piece of something with a couple strands of reddened blonde hair sprouting from it. Also a few small bits of what seemed as though they might have originated from a brain.

Possibly… Possibly her brain.

"Hey, we're pretty far out of the city. Good place to drive and test out your car's upgrades," Carl said cheerfully as he walked up on the driver's side of the steamcar.

Mina looked up at him. "Carl…" I shouldn't even inquire. "Have you revived me?"

Carl shrugged as though it was no great achievement before nodding. "Yeah, but don't tell anyone, okay?"

The knowledge that she had died was less troubling than she'd expected.

In a way, it was what she'd expected: Isemeine Charus could never leave Charus City.

It was impossible.

She could not even imagine such a thing happening.

But now, at last, Isemeine Charus was well and truly dead. There were none who would search for her, there would be no bounties set, and she would have no need to live in fear of being captured and brought back to that terrible place where her fears lived.

And it was all thanks to Carl.

Mina felt a warmth suffuse her, and a sense of safety accompanied it. At last, seven years after the unjust demise of Mister Godfry, she had found someone who cared.

She felt that perhaps…

Perhaps this was what home felt like.