Colors of gossamer. Webs of pure gold. A garden vast and rich. A tip of a blade. A throat exposed. Hard eyes stared at me. Calm ones stared back. My finger touched the cool metal, and I pushed it back, away from my flesh.

“You’re not supposed to interfere with the story.” Fable stared at me, his dagger remained pointed at me. I rolled my eyes. Of the two, he was the one I could stand the least. At least Fox avoided me like the plague, even when he clearly wanted to confront me.

If anything, I figured it would have been him here, not Fable. Fable didn’t break the rules. Fox could care less about them. Maybe what stopped him was the girl. He’d handpicked her, after all.

“Why did you tell Cinder about her?” He gritted his teeth. “There’s no reason to drag the old into the new.”

“I think she deserves to know about it. Besides, the Headmaster gave her the journal, didn’t he? She was going to find out either way. She’s a lot more curious and determined than you give her credit for. It’s pretty cute, Fox has good taste—”

“Cut the crap, I know you have other motives. You never got involved like this before.”

“Well, I didn’t have a role before. Aren’t these supposed to be exact renditions? How did I end up being her guardian? I’m not complaining, I think being a character is fun once in a while. You should try it—oh wait. You did. Remind me how that turned out again?” He swung and I ducked. It caught the side, a sting radiated along the side of my neck. Warmth dripped down. “Now, how am I going to explain that one to everyone?”

He lunged again, but I danced away. There was no sign of him stopping. I threw out my hand, and a deep red met a vibrant one. Fable’s magic was always too sharp. Too defined. It was easy to counteract when I knew each component of how it functioned. It was why magic with no rules or system was superior. Harder to control, easier to burnout, but more effective.

Fable swore, thin red lines crawling down his arms. He was out of practice. Cinder’s main character had made him weak, complacent. A startled laugh escaped me, the dark red of my own magic seeping around us in a low fog.

His eyes burned the same color, alight with magic, “Who would you prefer to stop you? Me or the Headmaster?”

“The Headmaster doesn’t care nearly as much as you think. If he had, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I’ve done. Don’t act like this is for the sake of the story. This is only for you.” He lunged again and I ducked away from him. His magic cut into me, thin as thread. I flinched at the small cuts, harvesting my own magic and wrapping it around me like a shroud.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The extra threads melted as my mist touched them. Fable was still on, pressing forward, “This is for the sake of everyone. She can destabilize everything if we’re not careful. You willingly giving her information about the past is—”

“But is it the past?” I needed to unarm him. It was impossible to get close when he had a blade on me at all times. I called the red mist to circle around his hand. It festered, but he didn’t let go. “The scene was set and the world was created at a certain point. Everything that’s being filled in was done retroactively. The past and future both come after a set point in time.”

He drove forward again, magic surging with it. I skidded against concrete, feet reaching the edge where it gave way to dirt and grass. The gardens grew thicker around us. A reaction to his magic. Blood dripped from his hand, but his magic was wrapping around it now to form a protective layer. The threads weaved together.

“It’s irrelevant. Once everything is finished, there will be no need to see it that way. Now, you’re just avoiding the question. Why did you tell her?”

“Does it irk you so much? I’m not Fox at least. I don’t have a preference between her and Abigail. I think what they’re capable of are very different from each other. And if it helps, I’m sure many of them prefer Abigail as well. Cinder excels at running away, and it’s far less entertaining to watch than someone willing to jump into everything.” I kicked out, catching him in the hip. He stumbled back, sending out threads to dissipate the fog. “Ah, but I’m still avoiding your question right? Easy, it was a whim.”

He snapped. The concrete cracked, the region around us vanished. The sudden upheaval caused my knees to give out and I went down. It was white. Blinding white. A pocket space, separate from everything else, like the Headmaster’s garden. He stood over me.

“You nearly ruined everything because of a whim?” The blade was steady.

“Is that really so hard to believe?”

“I find it impossible to believe you don’t prefer Abigail. That they’re equal.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that.” I rolled out of the way as the blade came down. His magic sunk into white marble, bleeding it red. I wasn’t getting out of this unscathed. “Maybe if you did your job, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

“Cinder isn’t mine—” He coughed. Choked. The world was white, like it’d all been fake. The world was green, like the garden had always been there. The world was cold, as wooden floorboards met my hands. Fable was on the ground, spitting up blood. I stared for a long time.

“I think I need to have a conversation with each of you.” The Headmaster folded his hands on his desk. The curtains were closed, and the only light provided was an orange glow from his desk lamp. He didn’t acknowledge Fable. Our eyes met, my skin grew cold.

I glanced back at Fable, curled up. “What did you do to him?”

“I cut off his magic supply. He’s been quite a bother throughout this, I apologize.” I stood. Convenient for me, depending on how this went. Fable was slowly recovering on the ground. He didn’t move, but he grew quiet. “Feel free to ignore him for now. Treat him as though you would the bookshelves.”

My magic was still intact. I felt it coursing throughout my bloodstream. Still, I let the mist curl around my hands, as proof it was still there. “Do I want to know why you’re meeting with me?”

I had a good idea. He inclined his head towards the chair in front of him. I obliged. This was going to last a while.