Applying to the Pinewood School of the Arcane Arts wasn’t going to be as simple as Luna was led to believe.

“I said nothing about it being simple; in fact, I told you it wouldn’t be easy. You led your own mind astray as you are wont to do.”

Snowman didn’t know anything about a school called Arcane Arts, so they’d decided it must not exist in his neck of the woods.

“Stop using that expression.”

It annoyed him because she thought it was a funny connection to the way she hung herself to see Snowman.

Donner didn’t.

Their senses of humor didn’t often align. Rather, he didn’t have one. Nothing was funny to Donner. Especially not if it involved dying, which was still a source of some anxiety for him even after years of the practice. Of course, she didn’t have the same experience as him or the lifetime he lived before dying and finding himself trapped in her head, so she tried not to blame him.

“Blame me for what, exactly?”

“Blame you for being annoying as heck sometimes.”

“As heck?”

She’d let slip a real curse once and Ant wasn’t pleased. The punishment was no more severe than a sharp, “Luna!”, but it was still better to keep some things to herself. Donner was all for that, constantly reminding her not to move too far ahead, which was difficult because she was so far past second grade that it wasn’t even funny but she regulated herself to matching Georgia most of the time to keep Donner happy. Or, as happy as he ever was; which wasn’t very.

“I hold myself to a higher standard now. I’ll be going to school soon, after all. Don’t you get demerits or something for stuff like swearing?”

“Close enough. You can be censured or given some manual labor punishment.”

“Like what?”

“Putting down manure in the garden.”

“Manure? That’s nothing!”

“For you. I’ll be shocked if any other children are attending without a magical background. Something else to remember, Arcane Arts isn’t exactly for the poor. You will have to take an entrance test. Not on paper, rather they will ask you to demonstrate your ability. If they are unsure of your worth afterward, they'll take your blood for a simple ritual to find out if you are of acceptable power. You must also present yourself well. If you pass, you will be offered participation in the rites.”

“How will we pay for school?”

“You will have to use your aunt’s mind again.”

She didn’t like that idea. The last time had unintended consequences

“I can make money.”

“Make or earn?” His tone was suspicious.

“Either. Both. However I can. You don’t care about the law. You think it’s all for the benefit of the bourgeoisie master race anyway. With their cool cars and sheeet.” She drew out the swear to savor it; she wasn’t stopping cold turkey, instead limiting herself to one a day.

“Don’t, don’t, say that word that way. Don’t.” She could see him putting his hand to his head. “And I have nothing against the actions of the bourgeoisie, their superiority was cemented and they act to retain power. I will, however, usurp that power and place myself on all the thrones they currently occupy.”

“So you DO want to rule the world!” He finally admitted it.

“Did I ever deny it? What I want is to let them live their small, pointless lives, believing themselves to hold the keys to life and death, and watch them waste away as they seek to live forever.”

A pause.

“That’s messed up, you know that?”

“Are you not the one convinced the cosmos is hurtling toward an inevitable disintegration? What I choose to do with the power I attain has no real meaning.”

“I mean okay, but still. The dimension is heading for ultimate destruction, but that doesn’t mean you have to help it get there faster.”

“Who said I would? I’m not looking forward to that, but because I know it’s reality I will act accordingly.”

“If everybody knew, do you think anything would be different?”

“No. They all at least have an inkling of coming demise, yet the vast majority remain scum.”

She looked to the night gasses above and opined, “The rich become famous for their money, and the poor become famous for their tragedies.”

Donner, in surprise, said, “That was rather insightful of you, if off-topic.”

“Yeah. I saw it on Twitter.”

Which ruined everything.

He started ignoring her then, even as she made plans to gather riches of her own.

The cell phone was no longer a source of overwhelming despondency and Ant didn’t know she used it at night. Truthfully, she didn’t like it. The internet, for all it’s holding the sum of human knowledge, was a pitiful place full of pitiful people and Luna didn’t suffer pity party throwers. She didn’t like fools and didn’t often burden herself with them just for the ease of searching for someone else’s answer to a question.

She was on social media once and then never again. The single nugget of wisdom wasn’t worth the bleach.

On the subject of getting to Arcane Arts, she'd have to forge her path, which meant she’d need some firsthand experience with the world in which it operated. The magical world she’d seen in Donner’s memories, what he allowed her to see at least, was different from the one she lived in, so if she wanted to make her fortune there she’d have to do some market research. Easier said than done, of course, because Ant was homeschooling them and Luna didn’t want to take another trip into her mind, but what else could she do?

She’d had a couple of ideas about how she could make money. Sticks might be big business.

“They have established sellers and while regulations are rather lax, I don’t believe a sudden influx of unbranded wands would go uninvestigated.”

“That’s why kids will want them. Overpriced and grunge or something. Back alley.”

“Exactly who do you think your market is?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out once I get into Society. I don’t even know if I want to sell wands. I’m weighing my options. It could work. There are literally trees everywhere. No overhead costs at all. All profit. Do they do taxes?”

“Not for everyone. Shops with a front pay to occupy the space and those who live in certain districts, renting property, are paying into the system as well. If you have an official store, registered with the government, you will pay taxes. There is no income or personal property tax.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“So, if I sold sticks out of the back of my car, by the bundle even, I wouldn’t have to pay the government anything? Do they use the same money as us?”

“No, Society has its own currency. They are a parallel civilization and the goal is to never interact with the world you’ve lived in thus far.”

“Why? Is it about witch trials and burning and drowning?”

“Not really. As I’ve mentioned many times before, they are insular. You will learn their history, colored in their favor though it may be, and find that they consider themselves superior. No doubt you will not agree and neither will anyone with half an idea of what else is in the world. Regardless, the main reason they retreated was to avoid being called upon, which was beginning to happen. That history is lost to the rest of the world, they’ve moved on, but at the time reliance was growing. With the plague, they took the chance to run and hide. I suppose the global pandemic caused a memory hole.”

“The Black Death was the reason Society disappeared from the world stage?”

“Not the reason. They had a desire for separation from the world at large, believing themselves exceptional among the human race and to be fair, at the time, they were. They were capable of more. They had abilities and potions and spells and the others did not. This bred jealousy and fear, eventually leading to arrests, though the populace was mistaken thinking they managed to kill any real users of magic.”

She supposed that made sense. It wouldn’t be so easy to kill a witch. Presumably, they could stave off fire and breathe underwater.

“So they went into hiding and eventually built up their own systems. Now they are far behind in terms of capabilities and technology, remaining in the middle ages.”

“Wait a minute,” she thought about it a moment longer. “Does that mean they don’t have toilets?!”

“Thank fuck, no. That invention was theirs as a matter of fact, though the rest of the world adopted, adapted, and brought it further. You will find them different from what you’re used to, though they function in the same basic manner.”

Well, that was something she supposed. “What about the overall bathroom situation?”

“The same. Running on magic rather than electricity.”

“Does that mean the shower goes down sometimes? You said they can’t even keep candles burning all night because they need to be awake to do it.”

“They use artifacts for long-term projects, like heating and moving water. Artifacts are better if they’re found, but can also be made. A piece that’s naturally collected power over centuries will last far longer than one artificially injected with magic. It’s not as potent.”

“Could I make artifacts? Do they sell?”

He hesitated. “They do, but it would be difficult for you to find any buyers. This is a more regulated sector of the economy. Fakes were once on every corner. Eventually, enough people fussed about purchasing arrowheads supposedly imbued with the blood of a thousand natives to find they lasted a day and a half keeping the ceiling fan circulating.”

“Yeah but mine would be real.”

The argument died before it began; he suspected she would be capable of producing a true relic. “Whether you can or not isn’t the issue. Selling without permits isn’t legal.”

“Can’t I just-”

“Do you think they can’t tell a forged document? Even with your unholy power, I don’t think you’d get away with it. For all the worthlessness of the government, they do keep meticulous records.”

“You’re telling me no one is out there on a black market?”

“There is a thriving black market, but it’s not easy to break into. No one is going to accept a random child hawking arrowheads, which is all you have access to.” She’d found a few during her jaunts in the forest. “You felt no power in those or you would have said something.”

“They don’t need any power, I can put some in myself. The problem is selling them and getting more. Or something else. Would people even trust little things like arrowheads? People want big-ticket items. The more it costs, the more they trust it.”

“Whether you have the goods or not doesn’t matter if no one will give you the time of day.”

“Hell, I could buy junk, make it magic, and resell it!”

“That’s a waste of time and effort if no one is buying. You cannot sell it yourself, no one will look at you twice. I won’t pretend that your age is the barrier, on that side of the tracks no one gives a damn about it, but you have no presence and no contacts.”

“You have the contacts, duh.”

She didn’t know for sure, he didn’t like talking about whoever his gang was or what he had them doing, but there was no way they were operating on the legal side of things.

“You want to co-opt my followers so you can sell manufactured artifacts? Are you out of your mind?”

For some reason, this was striking a nerve. “Yeah. You aren’t using them, right? And don’t you want to know what they’ve been doing since you’ve been gone?”

“You are not using my followers to sell anything for you.”

“All I ever try to do is help you and all you ever try to do is get in my way!” she shouted aloud, into the night. “Fine. I don’t need your help. I’ll figure it out myself.”

In dreams that night she left him, which wasn’t usually the case. Donner was the one who walked away. But he deserved it. Not that he cared, she knew he didn’t. She couldn’t hurt his feelings and she didn’t think he could hurt hers either. Despite his living in her mind, they weren’t close in that way. Their emotions didn’t align.

Making artifacts sounded like a good idea to her. Easy but not so easy that she’d get bored and give up out of frustration. It sounded like they wouldn’t accept random junk infused with magic, so she’d have to go out on adventures to find things worth her energy.

Which was fun.

Life wasn’t usually fun.

She didn’t think much about it and wasn’t that life in general? No one seemed to be having much fun. Even Ungle, doing his work, wasn’t having fun.

Luna didn’t think she’d ever had real fun before.

Walking in the woods was okay. Swinging with Snowman was fine. Doing all the hobby farm stuff was eh.

The buffet was the closest but that was ruined later in the day.

Putting it to scale she felt her life went from Royal Suck to Alright but no further. Seeing Pink die in a fire was the lowest point, finding out that Ungle was dead even after she saved him was next, and she wasn’t sure what the highest was, but it wasn’t that great. Maybe getting a mountain of presents from the ladies who read Ant’s blog on her birthday. That was the shock of a lifetime, especially since she didn’t even know when her birthday was at the time. August 20th as it turned out.

So she was six now, she hadn't paid much attention to her fifth birthday, and next year she’d be meeting Donner’s achievement of being accepted to Arcane Arts at age seven, but that left her with a year or so to figure out how to get there.

The artifact idea was a good one, she knew it was. They were items of limited availability and in high demand, no doubt. She could get things to use somehow, the problem was selling them. Donner claimed no one would buy from her because of the trust factor and, fine, he was right. There were sure to be established sellers already, but if she had volume, would that be enough?

The fact remained that she didn’t have any first-hand experience with Society and she needed it. But that meant messing with Ant's mind again and she didn’t want to do it.

Those unintended consequences were a bitch.

But it seemed like the answer. There was no way to tell her the truth, she wouldn’t believe it, and Luna thought showing her the truth might be more damaging than lying. She would never be able to tell anyone about it and who knew what Society would do if they found out her Ant knew about them. They sent that man to mess with Georgia’s mind after the nail polish incident, and she never did get around to continuing Operation Get Georgia Gold, because the government suspected something happened even if they didn’t know exactly what. That meant she was on a watch list which made things difficult, but it wasn’t like she did all that on purpose and she hadn't done anything else.

Except bringing Ungle briefly back to life.

“Do you think they know about that, too?” she asked Donner the next day as she hid out behind the shed.

“No doubt they do, but they also tend to underestimate issues like this. If you were an adult or even a teenager they would be riding your ass, but because you’re a child, and they have regulated themselves to certain parameters, they will not pay much attention. Regardless, this neglect will end once you enter school.”

All the more reason for her to make her debut in Society. She sort of wanted to have a ball and an antebellum dress, like she’d read about in Ant’s romance novels. Ant was writing now, too. Under a pen name.

Donner was very against dresses to this day, though.

“Shouldn’t you get over that? I’ll have to wear them or skirts at school, right?”

He ignored her and spoke on another topic. “If you’re serious about going out, the only option is to manipulate your aunt’s mind. There is no other way.”

She’d sort of accepted that during the night. She couldn't think of another way. If she couldn’t tell the truth, she would have to make an excuse.

“More than that,” Donner said. “You’ll have to come up with a whole story and make her accept it. I suspect you will like it less than going into her dream. You cannot use her own notions here, you must make up her mind for her. This is a complete lie and you will force her to accept it. There is no sugarcoating this. Even at Arcane, this is considered very Dark.”

“Have you ever done it before?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “When it was necessary. Your purposes are far more,” he paused, “benign, than mine, at least as far as any decent human being is concerned.”

“Are you not a decent human being?”

“No.”