When Melisande had received notice that Emika and young Durand had met, her mind blanked out.

On one hand, their friendship had always been on a timer. On the other hand, she wished that timer had ticked a while longer. The one thing giving Melisande solace was that Emika had promised to go with him. Durands were hesitant to kill. As long as she behaved and didn’t make herself seem unpredictable — as long as she seemed manageable — she would get to live.

It took Melisande about five seconds to understand the error of her ways.

There was never in a million years any way that Emika would act predictably or be perceived as manageable. Especially not in serious situations. That girl had no concept of danger…

Damn it, Melisande thought. She sent a few more messages to Emika in hopes of finding out what had happened, but even after two hours, there were no more responses. Either she had tried to fight and gotten killed off, or she had gone with him without her phone.

Melisande stared at her doll-in-the-works. What a pointless thing to do, sitting here making money for someone else while Emika was in the most dangerous situation she had probably ever been in. Was she scared right now? Probably not. Angry, more likely. Which was much worse.

The fundamental issue with this situation was that if Melisande ran out right now, trying to find and free Emika, not only was it very likely she’d be picked off before finding the place — even if she managed to free Emika, the both of them would just be killed right after. This was not a situation that Melisande could navigate in this state, especially with how low her tea reserves were. The magic had been running out for dozens of years — of course, probably by design, because they very much didn’t want her to get any ideas.

Currently, Melisande was probably weaker than even an average human. Any exertion could be her last, and cause her to faint. All things considered, there was no way she could make any dent at all. This situation was totally hopeless.

And yet, she couldn’t let things end this way. Maybe she’d walk out and lose consciousness right there on the street in front of the shop. Or maybe she wouldn’t. However, there was at least one bit of preparation she could do before going on this forlorn endeavour.

She picked up her phone and dialled in a number. She hadn’t ever used it before, but that person wasn’t one to make changes to her life, so it was very likely that this number still worked.

After a few rings, nobody picked up. Typical. Melisande would have to be persistent to reach her. Amagdala, Witch of the Eternal Sunset — the first human Melisande had ever seen. Her maker. One of the oldest witches still alive, obsessed with her own immortality.

That person was not someone whose help Melisande called upon lightly. The whole ‘making-of’ endeavour around Melisande hadn’t gone all too well.

However, Amagdala did have something that resembled a conscience, giving Melisande some leeway to cash in on a little favour. Right now, just before embarking on a journey she’d likely not return from, was all in all the best moment to actively make use of this connection for the first and last time.

It took dozens of tries and several hours until Melisande could get through. It was a long time to just give up on, considering Emika’s remaining life was on the clock, but there was no helping it. Without Amagdala’s support, she’d not be able to do this.

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When it finally happened, Melisande already started to regret things, but pushed the feeling away.

“Amagdala. Remember when you told me you owed me one? Well, now’s your time to pay up.”

A laugh belonging to an old woman echoed from the other side of the phone. “Somehow doesn’t surprise me that this is what you tell me after, like, a hundred years. I’m glad you had my number. Was starting to worry that I failed back when I tried to slip it to you. I was feeling lonely without my dear child ever reaching out.”

“Fuck you. Anyway, I need you to scramble my presence” Melisande explained. “As hard as you can.”

A short pause. Eventually, Amagdala replied, “Okay. Well. I won’t ask you what that’s for. God. Couldn’t you have had a cheaper need? How taxing. You realise I’ll die if I funnel too many resources away from my longevity potions, right?”

“I couldn’t possibly care less,” Melisande scoffed. “Isn’t it some dream of yours to die trying to save me? I’m sure you can muster some narcissism for that. You’re not gonna be happy if your greatest creation ends up in a toy dump somewhere.”

“You’ve developed a foul mouth,” Amagdala remarked. It didn’t sound like a reproach at all, though. More like curiosity.

“I spent too much time on the internet, I guess,” Melisande replied. “It’s you who made my speech patterns conform to my surroundings.”

“Well,” Amagdala interjected, “By default, yes. Although you should be able to override those parameters. So, in a way, you talking this way is by choice. It’s just fascinating, don’t mind me.”

There it was again — that woman was completely unable to interact with Melisande in a way that wasn’t just hidden praise for herself. Melisande was long done being annoyed at this, though. Just one of the facts of life. In a way, it was reassuring that nothing had changed these past many decades.

“Anyway, we are getting distracted,” Amagdala then declared, as if it hadn’t been her who initiated the distraction in the first place. “Scrambling. I can do that. Give me two weeks.”

“One week,” Melisande said.

Amagdala laughed. “That’s not how this works, dear. Of course, I will start working on this right away. But the more time and resources I spend on it, the more likely it is that the scrambling will work. Two weeks, and I can pretty much guarantee you won’t be detected for another two weeks after that, unless they spend a ridiculous amount of resources trying to break the encryption.”

Melisande tried her best to befriend that fact. Having two weeks of safety was huge. But, waiting two weeks to get there was a big risk. “So, you rec’ two weeks even if I’m in a hurry?”

“Oh? Well, let’s say, ten days, then. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Amagdala immediately hung up. Apparently, declaring the issue as time-sensitive had some effect.

Melisande took a deep breath. Not that she needed it, but it was one of those functions the old witch had added to make her seem more life-like. As with all defaults, Melisande had the option to override them, but for the most part, she kept things that made her seem human intact. To the extent that Amagdala had been able to even create something comparable to a human, given how botched of a wretch she was herself.

Overall, this was good news. Once she was scrambled, young Durand would not be able to locate her with divination.

The other few issues were that she needed to make a plan on what to do the moment she was out. She would need to confirm whether Emika was even still alive. Ideally, confirm that quickly enough to return to her prison in time before even being detected missing, because if Emika was already gone, there was no point in running away.

Ever since being confined, Melisande had shut off parts of her subroutines that would make her care or empathise with herself, because it would have been impossible to live this way otherwise.

But, Emika was different. Emika was someone else. In addition, she was someone else who actually acted like she cared. The first friend Melisande had made in a long time, if not ever, depending on the working definition of friend.

And now, this friend was in the hands of these human pieces of garbage. Sure, the other Durands were dead by now, but she saw this entire family as just one entity. And other Cursebreakers too, for that matter.

Anger. Anxiety. Fear. Those routines ran wild within her tea leaves, and they all pointed to one clear and immutable decision. Melisande would leave this place behind, and save Emika.

Even if she had to burn down the world trying.