Camilla looked so furious when Grandma was in the room. They hadn't spoken since... well since the night of the attack. That's what we called it, back then. Or what my grandmother and I called it, anyway. When Camilla, according to my grandmother, tried to kill her fiancé. But they didn't need to speak, not really. When Camilla was home Grandma wore a mask of contempt and disgust. Camilla herself was simply furious and her eyes showed it. Looking back, it wasn't a dissimilar look from the one the Quieted wore when they came back. It was almost the same but... more directed. Like she had a target the Quieted lacked.

As I sat on that fountain, I remembered one particular occasion during this silence between my sister and grandmother. A day when Grandma left and the rage melted away from Camilla, leaving weariness and concern in its wake. I didn't want to remember this conversation we had. Not just when I was starting to feel alright with being me again. I had only had a day to feel like I was worth something, and this conversation would be the first step in tearing that down. I tried to focus on the woman next to me and the moment I was in. I wanted to force my mind out of the past and into the present.

But the teal sparks rebelled. A teal aura sparked around me and focused around my grimoire, casting 'Still World' without a single word leaving my lips. Everything stopped and I felt as if fingers were peeling my eyes open and forcing me to watch the memory play out before me. My lip trembled and I wanted to fight it, but the traitorous aura, previously such a source of comfort, was unrelenting. That scene, in our warm living room, played out before my eyes.

Camilla looked at me with tired eyes, but she wore a smile on them anyway. It was only on her eyes, but I could see it nonetheless. It wasn't there to express happiness, but to welcome me in. To let me know she was safe, and warm, and I could trust her. It covered her fatigue and her sorrow, but it was, in a way, just as true as both of them. I could see that now. At the time all I saw was a lie. She sat next to me and looked kindly into my eyes.

"Can we talk, Mars?" she asked. I nodded gently, failing to find words for the sister I thought had changed so much. "It's about... tomorrow. About the tribunal..." she trailed off as she saw my expression sour.

"You're still doing that, are you?" I dismissed. "I was hoping all of this would blow over." I saw hurt in her eyes and, as I watched the scene again years later, I realized it was accompanied by concern.

"I know, you don't understand. And I'm not here to convince you. I just... people are going to want you to be there. They are going to want to interrogate your life, our life, and they may not be kind about it. They are going to try to get you to say something about either grandma or me and-" she started but I interrupted her.

"And you want me to back up your version of events?" I guessed, failing to keep the hostility from my voice.

"No," she answered. "No, I want you to know, you don't have to. You don't have to be there at all, if you don't want. Grandma and I... we are both going to say some things that are going to hurt to hear. But you shouldn't have to, not in that setting at least. You shouldn't have to be... dissected like that, in front of all those people. You have been nothing but a bright, brilliant mage, and I want you to be allowed to stay that way. I want you to keep your memories of both of us, without the poison of this tribunal interfering."

I looked at my sister in confusion. "You... wanted to tell me I don't have to do anything for the tribunal? That's all?" I asked.

A slight frown tugged at the corners of my sister's lips. "I just want you to keep yourself safe. Just... promise me you won't do anything if you think it will hurt you, alright? That's all I wanted to ask," she explained quietly. I gave her a blank stare for a minute, then a small nod.

"Alright," I agreed, "I promise. I'll stay home, you don't have to worry about me. Thanks, Camilla." She pulled me into a hug, but I didn't hug back. I was irritated. It felt so condescending. I was young, yes, but I didn't want to be treated as a child. To be protected. This tribunal was about the person I had always admired the most. The person I desperately wanted to be. I didn't want to hear what she had to say about my grandmother, she was right. But just because I couldn't hear her saying them didn't mean they couldn't hurt me. Still, it was an easy promise to make. It would get Camilla to leave for the moment, at least.

I was pulled from the memory before I could watch Camilla's response. The world resumed and again I was watching the bereaved woman next to me. "What's your name?" I asked, suddenly realizing how wrong it felt that I didn't know it. She paused for a moment, then sighed.

"Sisen," she answered. She didn't elaborate at all but I didn't blame her. She also didn't seem to notice the spell that had been cast right next to her.

Stolen story; please report.

"It's nice to meet you, Sisen. I'm Mars," I introduced. "I do know what you mean. Sometimes, anger and grieving look the same to strangers. I don't know why..." I trailed off and Sisen looked up at the sky before answering my unspoken question. There was a clear hitch in her voice when she did, and I could tell the name was all she could get out.

"Cyri," she answered and I nodded.

"I don't know why Cyri was feeling what she was feeling. I don't know how, even. Maybe... maybe something was left of her after all. I don't know yet. But I'm going to try to find out," I finished. I wanted to keep talking. I wanted to say everything would be alright, I'd find the solution, but I didn't know that. All I knew was that I would try.

"You were right," Sisen responded. "Whatever that was, it wasn't Cyri. She couldn't do that. She is so... she was so gentle. But she was there, with it. It was like she was wearing it but... she was there. I don't know much about magic, or souls, or Aethon above truth be told. But she was there." I didn't have a response for this, so I just sat with her. We watched Cyri's body together until she was too weary to stay any longer. So, I promised to take care of Cyri, for now. Until a funeral could be arranged. I promised, and sent her home, then started a walk back to the graveyard where I hoped the grave keeper could help me.

But as we parted ways and Sisen left, teal footprints marked the road where she walked. I crouched and gently touched one. The flood of aura that assaulted me was magnitudes more powerful than the first time I had tried to save her. Staying with her, talking to her, learning her name and the name of the dead... these changed everything. Again I felt the warm arms wrap around me. Again I felt like I was with Camilla, except instead of feeling the need to emulate her, I just felt an old desire boiling up. The all-encompassing need to be with my sister again. To see her smile at me. For a moment, it felt like I was. Like she had her arms wrapped around me. I could smell her magic in the air, the green and the fruit and the flowers.

Then it was gone again and I was alone. Alone and on my way to the cemetery. It felt like losing her all over again, but I was encouraged anyway. I had been right. I needed to do this my way. The way only I could. I needed to give everything to every person. I needed to take the time only I had to give each person a chance to talk. I couldn't save their lives and move on. I needed to care about them. And with my magic, I could. So even though the warmth was gone... even though Camilla was gone, I felt hope.

Sisen's earlier words had stuck with me as well. 'It was like she was wearing it but... she was there.' That resonated with me. The idea of wearing someone else's rage... The idea of lashing out against someone who didn't deserve it while wearing the image of another person. Another soul. I was deeply familiar with the idea. Because Camilla's weren't the only ill-fitting shoes I had worn, and they weren't the most painful. The entire conversation crawled across my mind like a spider weaving a web, in fact.

My magic could bring back the dead in a way healing magic couldn't. It could do this because it didn't just heal the body, it reversed the damage. It turned back the clock on both body and soul. So why did it affect the Quieted the way it did? It took the new life away but failed to restore the old one. And it only removed the new one if it had taken the body in the required amount of time. If 'soul' was a possible magic focus, my magic should still reverse its effects. No matter what someone did to control a soul, reversing time on it would undo their spell. So I never considered it, despite the Quieted looking so lifeless.

They were killed without injury, and without warning. They were left a lifeless body without a soul. I knew this, but of course, a 'Soul Mage' didn't make sense. Because even if such a thing existed, they wouldn't be able to fight time. But there was something about the disparity of how my spell worked that I couldn't let go. It worked as expected, but only halfway. I would have to ask the grave keeper if there was a library in town. There was something I was missing. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense that somehow, the soul was involved.

Unfortunately, the more I thought about it, the more the rest of my memory descended on me. The more the thought of wearing someone else's soul reminded me of my grandmother. Because you don't need magic to force that sensation on you. I didn't have the excuse of magic for what I did in service of the mask I so desperately wanted to wear. No, admiration was enough for me. Admiration and love for the woman who raised me. And just like that, I failed to keep the rest of the memory from my mind.

Again I was in my old living room. It was the night before the tribunal. When people would decide who was telling the truth, Camilla or my grandmother. Camilla had smiled when I promised not to let it get to me. But she wasn't the only one who wanted to talk.

"I'm so proud of you, Mars," Grandma said as she took the very same seat Camilla had chosen, not half an hour before. Her words warmed me like fire on a cold night. I felt ten feet taller whenever she said something like that. "You are so mature for your age. So smart. Which is how I know you can handle what I need you to do." My heart soared, and I was eager to hear what she asked.

"Of course, Grandma, what do you need?" I asked.

"It's about the tribunal tomorrow. Your sister... I just want what's best for her. But she is trying to tear apart everything we have built as a family. I don't know why. I think somehow, deep down, she could always tell that I favored you. But she is, and I need your help to stop her. Just tomorrow... just so she can't ruin all of our lives. Once all this blows over, we can start to rebuild the bridges she burnt. But They won't listen to me alone. So I need you to go, and I need you to tell the truth. Can you do that, Mars? Can you make me proud, and tell the truth?" she pleaded.

I looked at her seriously and nodded energetically. "I promise, Grandma. I'll be there."