Naomi sat in the hospital waiting room, flipping through her fourth magazine. How long were they going to take? Her patience only went so far. John and Miranda had been in there for hours. She wanted to at least see her sister before she passed. She touched the small satchel by her chair, almost wanting to slip her fingers inside to feel the paperwork. A little reassurance wouldn’t hurt.

Instead she felt for the clasp, finding it secured tightly. She fidgeted. John didn’t like her much, so Naomi only ever got to see Michelle every few months when they got together for lunch. Now and then Miranda would tag along when she was younger, before school started. Ever since the illness… She wasn’t even sure what it was. Greg hadn’t told her, but it was vital for her to see Michelle alone.

Finally, her brother-in-law and niece walked past, chatting happily to themselves, discussing what to get for dinner. It must’ve been a pleasant visit, then. Good. Hopefully Michelle would be up for one last visit from her sister.

When she got to the room, a nurse was helping Michelle back into the bed. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. Her sister looked like death warmed over, pale and thin, her frailty alarming. Her hair had fallen out in patches, though clearly she’d tried to make it look nice for her daughter.

“Hey sis,” Naomi said, gripping the curtain to Michelle’s half of the room.

“Naomi,” Michelle replied, trying to smile. “John and Miranda just left.”

“I know, I waited for them to leave. I didn’t want to rob you of their time.”

“Nonsense, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, you could have come in,” Michelle spoke slowly, her voice cracking. The nurse handed her some water. She drank it with care, her trembling hands struggling to keep it from dripping down her chin. She laid back and beckoned her sister closer.

“I’ve missed you, Naomi,” she said hoarsely. Naomi set the satchel down and clasped her sister’s thin hands. At least they felt warmer than they looked. It wouldn’t do for her sister to catch her death from chill hospital air, of all things.

“Likewise. Look, I’m here more on business than anything and can’t stay long,” Naomi explained. “Greg asked me to have you take a look at these,” she said, retrieving the documents from her satchel.

“You’ve cosigned these,” Michelle observed as she leafed through them.

“Some lawyer thing. The firm will get them notarized on my word,” she promised. Naomi’s muscles tensed with nervousness as Michelle started reading closer. Her sister was no intellectual slouch, and even if not as versed in legalese, she’d know what was going on.

“There’s no mention of John or Miranda here. I can’t sign away my rights without them getting compensated.”

“This was Greg’s dream. And ours by default. They were never a part of it and can never be. Please, just sign. Father wanted to make sure the inheritance fell to me alone with your passing.”

“Naomi, I-” A coughing fit seized Michelle. The nurse waved her back and injected something into her IV drip, then adjusted her oxygen feed. Michelle fell asleep.

***

Malika stood at the top of her tower, waiting for the glitter glider to arrive. Looking down over her kingdom, she could smell the sweet scents of her flower garden wafting up, lilac and mints, and other things besides. It could all rot, for all she cared. Every time she returned here, she found her sister took control of more of her land. This would not do.

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“Mistress,” Aldreal said, landing behind her. How does he sneak up like that? “There is news.”

She turned to the glitter glider and smiled, caressing his head. “Aldreal, my pet. Please share.” He prostrated himself, folding his wings along his flanks.

“She has enlisted the Neverborn to her cause.” Aldreal cringed. “She brings ruin to us all.”

Sighing, Malika returned her gaze to the landscape. “The Neverborn. Damn her. Greedy fucking bitch. She will destroy us all. I can’t fight her, the Tai, and the Neverborn.”

“Oh, my queen, there is more! The conjunction comes. It is unlooked for, yes. Perhaps even early. But we can hasten its arrival further still.”

She looked down at him. “I don’t see how having the conjunction earlier will help us,” she replied, but even then Malika considered new possibilities. Other ways to fight this war. Every day, new creatures came into existence, driving a spiral that further eroded her sense of control.

“The Making Place, my queen. Our answer is there. Born of a different conjunction, there is a child of both worlds. Your child.” Malika thought of her daughter, soon to be left alone with just her father. Miranda. That’s what she was in her dreams, anyway.

“That is a fantasy life, Aldreal. She’s not real.”

Aldreal’s size changed, and he perched on her shoulder, whispering. “Is that what your dreams tell you every night? Do you not remember the passion you spent with her father? The pain of her birth? Your dreams are every bit as real, just as the Making Place is real. Come back to us, my queen. Come back to us whole, and we shall bring her here, to us.”

“No, she belongs there,” she reasoned. “If she’s real, that’s her home. I can’t bring her into this conflict.”

“But mistress, she is something new, and nothing like her has ever been seen before. There is a fire in her soul that can unmake the Neverborn. Say the words, and we can make it so.” Aldreal nuzzled her neck, his words so soft she almost didn’t mind the chill of his beak. That was the shape of his face today. Shapeshifters.

She liked the idea, but didn’t want to admit it to him just yet. It was a perilous last resort, but she could not discard the idea, not when the Neverborn had entered the equation. Malika had a few months now before she would sleep, and had to best make use of her time till then.

***

Naomi stared sightlessly at the ceiling in a chair next to her sister, holding Michelle’s hand. She focused on the warmth there, squeezing lightly to feel the warmth of her own pulse beat in time with her sister’s. Above them, seen only by her, their father Greg floated, waving his fingers and moving Michelle’s free hand like a marionette. Each document Naomi brought was signed in turn with Michelle’s neat, steady writing. Michelle wept in her sleep, seemingly aware of the possession.

As each page was signed, a faint glow outlined it, then it vanished silently, on to the next. Ten pages went in moments, and Greg was satisfied. Naomi’s eyelids flickered, just as powerless as her sister when their father exerted his whim. Fiery heat flooded her chest, digging deep, scalding her insides with only the barest whimper to indicate her pain. Each woman’s grip on the other tightened, bruising flesh. Naomi shook, convulsing helplessly as Greg pressed his fingers to her temple.

Her mouth widened, and a foul smelling black mist poured forth, dissipating in the air. Naomi thrashed, kicking her legs even as her back locked rigidly. Pain grew and grew as her muscles dissolved underneath her flesh. Her hand gripped Michelle tighter still, and she felt bones break, not knowing in her pain whether they belonged to her or her sister.

An ecstasy filled her as well, a new sense of purpose as darkness filled her sight, the black misty cloud swelling all about her. She choked, gagging on her own blood, her mortal shell consumed by the power of the contracts she’d signed with her sister.

Greg watched with curiosity as his daughter dissolved into nothing and vanished. He nodded, picking up the discarded satchel off the floor near Michelle, and gently kissed her lips. “Finally, things will get interesting,” he whispered, then departed.