It was closer then, so much closer than before.

Olive stared into the sleek motions of the flowing ribbon, the vivid line of material that spanned the outer surface of his dream.

“I still don’t get it.” He sighed against his hands. Olive laid himself somewhat near beside the blurry image. His eyes watched the oddly rippling presence as it played and swirled and spun over the hazy outlines of his imagined realm. “Dreams are so weird.”

The thing glinted when it stretched further, reaching far across the horizon of everything and anything that existed inside that uncertain space. All Olive’s mind could truly comprehend was how the fluid surface shifted and curved, bending until it seemed to wrap the entire world in its strangely intangible grasp.

He wondered if he was dreaming of such things because of the unusual new realm he’d found himself in, the lush wetland valley he and his new companions stumbled upon. Water, however, was actually not so unusual to his memories.

Even years beyond the smoke-streamed night he’d left his homeland behind, the hazy yet tactile sensation of submersed dreaming was more than familiar enough to the corners of his mind by then. But Olive half-expected to see the ocean rising high and flowing there instead, not some long stretch of narrow, uncertain color that had definable boundaries on each side.

Despite it all, just the same as the coursing roar and crash of ocean waves, the resounding and utter force of the sea’s fierce embrace: those starry, dreamlike waters had no beginning, end, or discernible depth of nature, at least not any his soft little gaze could find.

“I miss how it was.” Olive tried to close his eyes. It did nothing to stop the strange vision unfurling out before him. “I... I miss you.”

The furthest horizon prickled with a faint spread of light.

Olive squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “No-”

Fire, he remembered: firelight slipping along through the tallest branches as his mother grabbed at his hand and pulled him stumbling, dragging her son right along with her through the brambles while she ran.

The voice that rippled at his memories that time was calm and soft, yet resounding all at once. “They can’t hurt you.”

Olive squeezed his eyes shut. He choked a stifled cry. “But, they..!”

“They aren’t here now.” The words were somehow everything he already knew and a fully bizarre stranger all at once. “They’re miles away. You’re only dreaming.”

“Gods, I...” Olive felt his tears streak quietly into his hands. His whole body trembled when the harsher, stronger glow of unyielding orange crept forth and seized over the quiet liquid ribbon, claiming it piece by piece.

But he had to look at it then: the surface coiled, flickering apart and curling inside that hungry blaze, how it thrashed and bent and struggled and screamed, fighting and grappling and writhing in utter futility against the roaring force of light.

Olive felt the image itself sear in the backs of his eyes, the way the strange ribbon was dragged to utter shreds before him, even when he tried to look away. “No, gods-!”

The voice began anew. It echoed too quietly for him to fully discern any words; undefinable, only an odd, intangible thing he could not name; some bone-deep murmuration Olive’s mind had never heard before, yet knew from the very depths of the blood coursing through his veins.

The tone within his thoughts hummed to him in the same song his mother once brushed beside his ears under the shelter of the coastline trees, beneath charred branches swaying in the bitter midnight winds.

Line Breaker [https://nautiluca.com/wp-content/uploads/Line_Breaker.png]

Amiela knew she was not awake before the walls could even become solid around her.

Because there were no cobbled paths out in the wildlands, she knew, just as there weren’t any tall gabled buildings that spanned a sprawling labyrinth between the endless frozen streets. There was no hotel room with silken bedsheets and expensive chocolate mints perched along the side table, not to mention any soft plumes of candlelight casting a rich glow over her half-bare skin.

Her body itself felt so bizarre then, phased in place somewhere between two distinct points at once. Her mind could still feel the sharp aches and weariness from her own more current state, an entire realm of pains and pressures still lodged deeper than anything in the back of her mind. But when she peered down at the flicker of firelight in the slightly fingerprint-smudged travel mirror resting there atop her bedside counter, it was a soft, clear-eyed adolescent face peering back at her, reflected hazily in the polished shine.

Amiela blinked. Her own self blinked right back at her. She looked down a bit further, towards herself. A thin metal bracelet glinted over the curve of her wrist, a subtle sheen in the dim light. It felt somewhat cold against her skin, over the silken pillow, despite the warmth of her body and flesh.

It was not a temperature that stung, no; like a tang of gelato tingling her mouth, the sensation could be ignored more than easily, even if more sour than saccharine. Amiela’s eyes slid halfway shut. It wasn’t like she ever preferred it different, anyway.

And the memory of her voice stung even more so sweet. “Amiela, are you getting ready?!” The words still felt just as clear as the mirror glass, so deeply etched in her mind that it felt like she’d heard them only yesterday.

Eulalie’s face, the vision that she was, suddenly peered right out there for her, peeking in from beyond the blurry surface of the nearest doorframe. But her smile dropped faster than ice from the windowsill when she saw what was waiting there before her. “Gods, Amiela! You aren’t out of bed, even!?”

“Sorry, I-” The words began to tumble and leave her lips before Amiela even realized she spoke them. “I...”

The world around her, even then, was slowly taking hold, grasping itself over the swirl of bleariness, true to memory: she drew in a shaky breath and allowed it to unfurl, curling like skin and flesh over sharply easing bone-shards, to grip down tight over herself and all the rest of the space around her, to let the tall beams of walls and ceiling and slanted marble creak solidly over the inner foundations, settling into place as even the hazy rafters and uncertain whorls of waxy candlelight became so much more stable and real.

And Amiela, the girl she once was, all too awkward and faltering, merely rested there beneath the cover of her bedsheets and stared. “I, um. I just-”

But the figure who stared back at her began to look far less like a girl who’d just stepped down from a doorway frame in the hall steeped in watercolor: a living shape born from deep within a lush portrait. Eulalie was walking, even then, with such daintily graceful yet precise footsteps, drawing her way ever closer towards reality, though she was no less lovely for it.

Amiela’s lucid self closed her eyes towards it all. She trembled just once and felt her consciousness slip, drifting itself right down to fade deep beneath the haze of uncertainty, cast aside like crumpled paper from the dust-smeared corner of a desk, allowing nearly all of that stiff, gripping mindset to meld right off and disappear in the span of her own imagined dreamscape. “I don’t think I slept that well last night.”

“Oh. Poor baby.” Eulalie stuck out her tongue and winked. “You’re just travel-lagged. Come on! We’re going to miss out on everything if you don’t get up right now!” She pranced right along to venture even further into the room, throwing the window blinds open with a swift whoosh of air.

“Agh-” Amiela winced and blinked beneath the sudden wave of total brightness, not to mention the all too unsubtle chill stirring in further from beyond the glassy windows. Amiela’s arms prickled and shook with a slight raise of goosebumps. “Gods. Um. I mean, I sort of think it was more the show last night that really did me in..?” She groaned aloud and rubbed her forehead, massaging her temples and eyelids with each of her tensing fingertips.

But Eulalie afforded her no mercy, shoving at the second set of window-blinds that draped even closer beside the bedside. Amiela merely leaned away and squinted even tighter against the flash of brilliant sun. She gingerly peered into it, the sunny eastward side of the room, where the balmy light graced the snow-frosted windows. The sheets of glass twinkled beneath the pale morning glow.

Off beyond the slope of the curved metal rooftop, Amiela could already glimpse the early crowds of ornate horse-drawn carriages and dozens upon dozens of different figures all walking through the streets in thick cashmere and fair silks. A tall woman wearing a full fur coat strolled by the furthest sidewalk path, turning gazes wherever she did so.

Eulalie’s sudden voice at her ear jolted Amiela right out of daydreaming. “If I promise to buy you a mink stole, will you get out of bed?”

“Mink’s cruel... Hey-” Amiela yelped a short little laugh and tried her best to writhe and struggle away when Eulalie practically tackled her right down to the bedsheets. She choked out a giddy breath when Eulalie mimed a clear threat in the air to tickle her ribs. “That is not fair; you wouldn’t-!”

“I just might if you decide to laze around in here forever!” Eulalie stuck out her tongue again, slapping her hands down in succession against the bedsheets. “We’re in one of the greatest shopping and entertainment districts in the world and I know you’d just rather slug out and order cheap pizza here in bed all day!”

Amiela muffled yet another tiny peal of laughter, evading her pursuer with a somewhat graceful backwards shuffle across the sheets. “It really wouldn’t be so bad-” She drew a deeper breath to help calm herself. Amiela glanced back towards the frosty window panes. “It does look beautiful. Even from here.” She sighed and yawned a quiet little tone, before she reached back in another futile attempt to rub away the last of her throbbing headache. “We should really get some breakfast first, at least.”

“Sure. But no greasy pizza. And not at the hotel.” Eulalie scooted over to sit right beside Amiela. “It’d be such a waste. They always gouge you for room-service, really.” She flipped a stray lock of hair over her shoulder and delicately reached for something from her pocket: a small, engraved metal flask with a dark sapphire inlaid over the stopper. “‘Hair of the dog,’ as they say?”

Amiela winced at that, but she accepted the offer. “Yeah. I guess they say it...” She leaned back to settle herself against the headboard and uncorked the flask, lifting it towards her face even when Eulalie leaned in close to bump their shoulders together and rest there beside her. Amiela’s nose wrinkled at the sharp scent wafting out from the hidden liquid. But she tipped her head back anyway and inhaled deeply to ready herself for a swig. “I still can’t believe you slipped booze past my aunt.”

“Hah. I think she’s still way too busy with all the gathering stuff to pay much attention. Not like the Mantilla were around, either.” Eulalie made a less enthused face. “You’d think they’d try a little and make it less obvious they weren’t creeping around, being all busy with their ‘day jobs’ instead, like... Ugh. Assign a few of them to hang outside and watch all the ‘kids,’ at least?” Eulalie only began to grin again when Amiela abruptly doubled over and gagged on fierce coughing fit from the bitter liquid. “I mean, we snuck right out and even your aunt didn’t realize.” Eulalie shrugged against the headboard. “I was half-expecting her to come crash the whole place and drag us both here back by our ears.”

Amiela coughed even louder. She grabbed wildly at the bedside counter for a handkerchief, where she spat out most of her sip. The potent fluid seeping through the cloth was an eerily vivid, greenish-teal. “What the fuck is this..?!”

“Oh, right. They call it absinthe.” Eulalie smirked and pointed directly at Amiela. “You should know! It’s not even originally from here, or anywhere in Werna.” She let her hand flounce right back into her lap. “I’m surprised your aunt doesn’t have any. Where’s her pride in local products?”

“Ugh. Gods.” Amiela tried to spit out as much of the lingering flavor as she could. “She’s got all sorts of weird shit in the workshop cellar. I just don’t tend to go around in there drinking unidentified substances.” She wiped her mouth and tongue with a second square of clean cloth. “This... Barely even passes as potable.” Amiela’s gaze wandered away from the open flask. “What happened to the rest of the cognac?”

“‘Rest of?’” Eulalie slowly mimed her fingers between the both of them. “We made good use of it before midnight, wouldn’t you say?”

Amiela could feel a heated prickle creep down slowly over the back of her neck, rising faster into her cheeks. She wasn’t usually such a lush, she swore, but being in Eulalie’s presence always sent such a thrill racing down her spine.

She felt the same, even then. Amiela blinked a few times and tried not to grimace at her own silent admission. In that similar sense, her inhibitions would always inevitably slip, tumbling just as far afield as they always did, as if she was skidding forth over icy cobblestones rather than any solid stretch of ground.

“Anyway! Absinthe is supposedly the ‘fairy’s drink.’” Eulalie continued with an even slyer grin while she capped the flask tight and lightly shook it around in the air. The liquid inside swirled with an audible stir. “So it might even interest your friend-”

“Hey- We...” Amiela felt herself blanch. “We really shouldn’t talk about... You know.” She tightened the grip of her hand over the dry corner of the handkerchief. From the furthest part of her gaze, she eyed that one other shadow stretched out far across the sheets between them.

It looked so much paler than it had once been. The faded shape of an outline was mostly hidden away there, nearly indistinguishable against the folds of blankets unless a keen set of eyes actively tried to sift out and seek it.

Amiela reached down for the little bracelet on her wrist instead. She rubbed her fingertips over the surface in a practiced sort of pattern. “I just mean... We’re here to have a good time, right?”

“Sure.” Eulalie smiled, but the look did not quite reach the glimmer in her eyes. She began to ignore the silent presence resting between both of them again. “But we really won’t have much time of it at all unless you actually get dressed and moving.”

In the moment that slipped by before them, Amiela began to smile back for her. She wasn’t so sure about that. Just being there beside Eulalie always, always made something deep inside her chest feel all warm and tingly.

“Careful.” Eulalie’s voice became a touch more gentle then. She reached up to brush her hand at Amiela’s cheek, touching her fingertips just over the softest curve of her face. “I know this is fun, but your eyes...”

“Oh.” Amiela felt her skin prickle. She shied away from Eulalie with a quiet bout of blush. “I can-”

“Do you need me to make you another glamour? Oh, the one last night was my best yet!” Eulalie grinned wide and preened over her own claim. “I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it, really, with all that crap at school. Gods, you wouldn’t believe how satisfying it is to see those stuck-up pricks not even realize it’s you-!”

“Um. It’s alright.” Amiela shook her head. “My aunt got me something to help, too. But I took them out before bed.” She reached up to touch the skin around her own eyes. “I guess normal people use them to correct their vision, sometimes? I’ll put them back on before we go.”

Eulalie glanced back down at the oddly faded shadow. “Is the bracelet not helping with your eyes?”

Amiela tried not to fidget. “I just forget to help control it sometimes.”

“Well. Then we’ll just have to be extra careful today.” Eulalie winked once more, clapped her hands together, and then hopped right up from the bedside. “Now, go and get dressed! Oh, right: there’s this super cute little cafe on the street corner just a few blocks west I’ve been dying to try! I saw it on the ride in here and it just keeps calling to me even now. Amiela, I mean it, I do not want to spend all day cooped up when we could be anywhere else! So go and get ready quick, please!”

Amiela watched Eulalie flounce off yet again and leave.

Soft brown eyes blinked a few times in the sudden wake of that girl, her boisterous yet melodious sort of presence. Amiela slowly moved to tease her fingertips over the edge of the sheets, trying not to breathe too fast over her jittering, fluttering nerves.

But there, just in the background of her periphery, the presence stirred. Silent, only a trace of a distant, rustling whisper, yet ever so firmly prodding over the back of her mind with the sensation of blurry talons, gentle pawpads and teeth.

Amiela just shook her head and dismissed the sensation from her thoughts, dimming it all in one swift hush.

“No.” Amiela forced herself to stand decisively from the bed without even really wobbling. Her head swam only slightly from the richly tinged alcohol swirling without mercy through her belly and veins. “Don’t do this. Please... Not now.”

Because that day, that one, perfect winter vacation with Eulalie, was not going to be interrupted by anything less than amazingly fun, Amiela swore it. She squeezed her eyes shut and stalked right off into the bathroom.

Time swirled with a blur of getting washed up and dressed, forgoing the precious seconds it would have taken to brush her teeth in favor of a few of those fancy little chocolate mints, which Amiela nearly choked to death on in her haste to get ready for Eulalie.

Before long, the young witch managed to hack out a ragged cough and tremble, shivering there as she finally cleared her throat before the pitiful sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. “Fuck...”

The odd presence pressed only the barest form of touch to the surface of Amiela’s neck, as if soothing a steady, tender chill into the awful ache of it, yet it felt all too much like some ethereally forked tongue was licking her throat there from inside it, tending to the residual pain.

Amiela shuddered and swore. “Gods! Stop. Please?”

The coils tightened, still remaining as half-tangible as they ever could possibly be.

“Just go back to sleep. Please.” Amiela dipped her head low to watch the thin, beady thread of saliva from her lips tremble and break, disappearing into the metallic curve of the faucet drain. Her voice became even softer. “Va-t’en et dors, minou. I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to try and stop me from being a total idiot-”

Amiela cursed again under her breath. She glanced at the toothbrush waiting faithfully from the little wooden travel cup by the soap dispenser of the sink. Somehow, it felt like she’d already spent enough time making a fool of herself over those mints.

She got busy taming her snarled hair with a wide-toothed comb instead, rubbing some sweet scented oil into it before washing where it dripped over her hands, then carefully applying the glass set of ‘contact lenses’ over her eyes, as her aunt had described them to her.

It seemed to Amiela as if such delicate little objects were only available for wealthy people who could afford them, or to clever witches who could replicate such a uniquely human invention with a certain additional twist of their own.

Amiela blinked at the sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. The small glass discs did make the color of her eyes look much too dark for her own self-recognition, but it was the price she paid for concealing them. Her second shadow laid as only a pale, uncertain outline looming over the cabinet door behind her.

She remembered stepping out from the bathroom, grabbing for her room keys and satchel bag, then nearly grasping at the flat little music player covered in floral stickers and the tangled set of earbuds resting beside it on the nightstand.

Amiela blinked at them. She recalled her aunt’s initial confusion over the purpose of the device, yet regarding it as a worthy successor to the tall old living room radio anyway after prompting Amiela to explain what the device even was, the way Eulalie had gotten one for winter solstice and would not stop raving praises on it in her letters and latest visit.

The dawn of the next midsummer festival, Amiela had found a little paper box tied with ribbon tucked between the plates of honey-coated strawberry waffles at the kitchen table.

Each time her aunt took her along on town errands or business meetings after that, she would gently prompt Amiela to bring the little ‘mp3’ player along, (her aunt quietly refused to call it such, referring to it only as: ‘that little radio of yours,’) lest her niece find herself as bored and listless as she usually seemed whenever things got tedious between the more interesting snippets of conversation or shopping in each venture.

Amiela remembered the look in her aunt’s eyes when her niece glanced up from zoning out to the sounds from her earbuds one day, only to find the tall woman handing her a little sticker book after purchasing an armful of new novels for herself. Amiela still recalled the way her own eyes widened so fast when she realized the soft, fuzzy felt did indeed smell like roses the moment she gently dragged her fingernail across it, making the entire music player feel like a tiny, delicate garden in her hands until the scent faded a few days later. The memory remained far longer than such a chintzy aroma ever could.

Her fingers curled closer to her palm when Amiela remembered the way her aunt peered up from the crisp words of her chosen book, when the woman let her lips tug higher when Amiela’s head drifted to rest against her shoulder in the dim light of the midnight rail-car lantern, one earbud having fallen to her lap in her half-dozing state, drifting from the wire whenever the gentle rumble of the train nudged them both.

Amiela realized she had not even thought of her actual mother in that small, somewhat long-ago moment. A fierce twinge panged at her heart and squeezed.

The young witch turned away. There was surely no need for such a thing, Amiela reasoned, not when she had the entire day with Eulalie to look forward to. She retracted her hand and left the entire thing behind, tugging her sweater on instead as an afterthought while she moved to swiftly leave, almost forgetting to lock the door behind her, actually forgetting the pair of gloves and hat hung from the wall-rack inside entirely, before she hurried down the winding stairwell to find the corridor beside the grand reception hall, where Eulalie promptly scolded her for not putting on warmer clothes.

Amiela only pulled a tired smile and shot right back that Eulalie hadn’t been complaining nearly as much during their trek to the hotel the previous night, particularly the moment when she’d huddled up close against Amiela for warmth when the frigid midnight air became too much to endure.

A few pedestrians strolling the walkway outside the hotel glanced over and blinked at the somewhat muffled commotion ringing from the windows when Eulalie pretended to be utterly outraged, hurling a soft woolen hat at Amiela’s face.

Amiela just grinned a little wider. She moved to pull the fluffy hat on over her head, if only to make her companion feel somewhat better by doing so. Amiela did mutter under her breath and complain about having to put mittens on, before Eulalie pointed out the fact that they were a matching set with her own. Amiela stopped fussing much after that.

They both had to assert their way past the clamoring bluster in the winter streets. There were so many people out there along the promenade, all crowded together and moving in dense waves and speaking aloud all at once in one terribly ceaselessly din, waiting and weaving and pacing one by one in mazelike lines to board carriages or reach icy trolley steps, not to mention the closer, rowdier coach stations in a massive bustle of activity.

Amiela practically balked beneath the sheer and overpowering spectacle, frozen stiff in the midst of the blaring crowd. But Eulalie merely grabbed for her mittened hand and led her away from it, trekking down a much less chaotic street.

It was no less busy there in the narrower side roads, but the casual crowds became far more manageable. Amiela felt her heartbeat slow the longer Eulalie led her forward, though only as much as it could. A tiny, narrowly-angled corner shop stood at a pointed intersection between the junction of three sweeping streets.

The chipped sign above the doorway still bore delicate brushstrokes. It displayed a pale old cat curled up in gentle slumber, resting close against a painted basket of fresh baked bread and dark bottled spirits.

Before long, deep within the cozy swirl of wafting rye and wheat, finding the warmth of refuge in such a blithely cramped little cafe, Amiela’s lucid presence drifted back to the forefront.

Her dreaming mind took the chance to more closely examine that languid winter memory, particularly the way Eulalie looked while she wore that deep blue and cream knit sweater beneath her heavier winter coat, all wrapped up in a fuzzy wool scarf as white as freshly fallen snow.

Amiela could recall the precise way Eulalie’s eyes looked beneath the dim candlelight, that soft gleam of beautiful hazel gray, only just hinting at a few sharper tones of blue. Eulalie always had such a tiny button nose. Amiela remembered being so wildly envious of it at first, at least before the time when Eulalie, just as blithe, revealed the way she admired Amiela’s more distinctive features as well.

It was the thought that mattered, really. Even if Amiela never was entirely sure if she ever truly believed her.

Snowflakes still rested over Eulalie’s loosely braided hair. The pale flecks each melted slowly in the faint chill beside the cafe windows. Her locks were a rich auburn hue, melded somewhere in between deep, vivid scarlet and a much darker shade of brown; it all conjured the feeling of a warm cup of cider cradled between Amiela’s hands. Or maybe, she considered, she only really felt that way because of what they’d both ordered that morning.

The spirits swirling in their mugs were somewhat mild, though well-spiced due to the early hour. The locals were clearly not the slightest bit apprehensive over their average rate of alcohol consumption.

“I knew it. This really is just right.” Eulalie slowly sipped her drink, leaning forward in her chair to rest her elbows over the weathered table, gazing around from the tiny spot in which they were seated, what passed as the ‘quietest’ corner of the shop. She reached for a small wooden dispenser near the windowsill. Eulalie squinted in a vague attempt to translate the language scrawled over the label. “Oh, this has cinnamon in it. Nutmeg too, I think. Want some?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Amiela nudged her own drink closer to let Eulalie grind some of the fresh spices into her mug as well. “Do you think we should go back to the counter once the food is ready?”

“Nah.” Eulalie shook her head. “I saw some waitstaff bringing plates and stuff to the table behind you.”

Beneath the gentle bustle of the sunlit cafe, Amiela tried her best to relax in her chair. At least it was not as much as the previous night, she tried to reason beneath some lingering sense of feverishness. The sheer commotion of symphonic noise had grown only in magnitudes, wildly loud and consuming, more vastly powerful than anything she’d ever once felt push and tremble over her skin.

Amiela swore it had been like stepping into a whole different universe, feeling countless stars drift through the air at her touch and water ripple with each pulse in the air around her, a place entirely unlike the world she thought she knew before.

Beautiful, terrifying, and yet so incredibly exhilarating once she had finally let her apprehension fall away and not shy back from being led deeper into the throng of cheering crowds. She remembered the way the noise of the music itself seemed to shake past her skin, thrumming right down into the contours of her bones, the glint of Eulalie’s giddy excitement flashing past the lights and color and blare of rising music, the way she had passed Amiela a much stronger drink, and then all of it, everything, even dancing with every last breath she could draw became so fluidly easy.

Eulalie swiped forth to wave her hand right in front of Amiela’s face. She snapped her fingers aloud into the air between them. “You had better not be falling back asleep on me!”

Amiela startled. “Sorry-” She blinked several times. “Just... Thinking about last night.”

“Oh, right! That was amazing, wasn’t it!?” Eulalie leaned forward even further to give Amiela a brighter grin. She did a little tip-tap dance on the floor from her chair; the toes of her shoes clicked a swift rhythm over the worn stone tile. “I’ve never, ever seen lights at a concert like that! How in the world did they make it look like a waterfall was going right down over the stage..?! Gods, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it had to be magic!”

“Hey-” Amiela nearly choked over a small sip of cider. She lowered her voice down to such a soft, growling hush that she was not sure if Eulalie could even still hear. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

Eulalie whispered back over the table. “Nobody’s paying attention.” Her voice fell even softer. “It’s just regular people here. The Mantilla aren’t even-”

“Still.” Amiela tried her best to give the rest of the crowded cafe a discreetly narrowed glance. “We should talk about normal things...”

Eulalie shrugged. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.” She reached into her coat pocket for a few small sheets of foiled paper and a pair of embossed tickets. “Right. These are for the festival tomorrow. So we’re going to need to find other stuff to keep busy with today, which shouldn’t be hard, you know, given that it’s winter tourist season and there are more than enough places to hopefully find you a warmer coat somewhere, you absolute maniac-”

Amiela let her apprehension ease back into a quiet smile. She rolled her eyes as fondly as she could manage while she sipped again at her drink. Amiela slowly shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“You are going to freeze to death.” Eulalie tried her best to look utterly cross and serious about the whole ordeal, but her mouth just kept twitching up as well into a softer smirk. “We’ll find something you like, okay? It can be whatever you want, just as long as it’s warm!”

Without preamble, a young waiter approached their table with a steaming tray full of breakfast. He only spoke the local language of that particular province of Werna, so Eulalie fumbled through her tourist guidebook to try and clumsily thank him for bringing their food.

“Wow. This looks great.” Eulalie reached over to sample a small taste of her meal. Her eyes widened at the flavor. “Oh! Here, try this.” She held out a full spoonful of the sugared rice dish. “It’s sweet, like oatmeal.”

Amiela glanced all around once more. Despite how bustling the interior of the tiny cafe truly was, it still did not look as if anyone there was paying even the slightest bit of attention to either of them. She quietly leaned closer and tried to accept the bite of food with as much discretion as she could.

“Good, right?” Eulalie slowly waved the empty spoon back and forth. “I think it’s fruit syrup. No idea what the real name translates to, but the chalkboard said it was ‘sweet porridge.’”

With a silent hum, Amiela nodded. It tasted like many types of woodland berries and chopped figs all mixed in with a sweet, milky flavor from the steamed rice. She turned her gaze back towards her own meal. It was a dish from the translated board that had seemed mostly foolproof for her to order: a plate of griddle-cooked potatoes and various roasted breakfast meats.

Amiela was not quite sure which spices were tucked inside the array of little pie-shaped dumplings on the third platter (more than enough for both her and Eulalie to share,) but the delicate pastries smelled rich and savory.

Her senses blurred with the countless scents and flavors, drifting along through time and speech and shared little bites of food, so much that it arrived as a quiet shock to find herself standing suddenly elsewhere.

Amiela did not truly wake from the realm of dreaming, even though it was similar to the jolting sensation a person felt whenever they did so, as if falling away in a rapid sharp rush from atop a high place, only to suddenly lurch upright from slumber in a startled daze.

“You okay?” Eulalie waved her hand in front of Amiela’s face again. “Gods, don’t tell me breakfast put you back to sleep!”

“No, no. I’m fine. Really.” Amiela blinked her eyes to settle herself. She yawned and hurried to stretch out her arms. She nearly knocked over a coat rack while doing so. With a muffled exhale, Amiela stiffly stumbled away from it and blushed. “Just waking up a bit, still...”

“Right. Sure.” Eulalie rolled her eyes high when Amiela ambled a few more wayward paces away. “Walk it off already. Gods know you’ll burn right through the calories.” Eulalie smirked to herself and returned to browsing through the practically labyrinthine racks stuffed full with coats and shawls and knitted sweaters. “I’m glad you liked the dumplings, though. Way better than all that crappy hotel food.” Her voice echoed from within the wall of garments when she leaned deeper. “They were awesome. Even if, uh, well-” Eulalie discreetly swished one of her hands beside her own abdomen. “Can’t really say it’s the pie’s fault when it busts your diet to sad little pieces, can you?”

Amiela felt herself smile as well and shake her head before she truly knew it. “It’s not like you actually need a diet.”

Eulalie only leaned back somewhat from the coats. She almost looked as if she might protest, but then something about her stance slightly withered, gaze tipping down towards the floor. “It’s all anyone talks about at school, sometimes. Not me, I mean. Just not getting fat in general. Like it’s some social death sentence if you do. I guess it’s kind of hard not to think about what would happen, if, uh, you know.”

Amiela’s smile faded. “One day of not watching what you eat isn’t going to-”

“I know.” Eulalie forced herself to grin instead, trying her best not to look at all dejected. “Amiela. It’s... Different, in school. Most people act so nice to your face, but the moment they think you can’t hear things..?”

Amiela almost began to speak, but Eulalie kept on before she could form whichever words her mind struggled to summon.

“It’s not even trash-talk, really. Most of the time. Just what they honestly think about people. Good or bad.” Eulalie pushed a smaller smile past the lingering look of hurt, erasing it all away with an easy sort of chuckle. “I’m actually kind of glad you still live with your aunt, you know. Because I’d have to beat up anyone who got even a little bit mean to you.”

Amiela forced herself to look less serious as well. “You talk like I’m some pushover.”

“Because you are.” Eulalie shook her head decisively and reached back into the coat rack. “You let all those ‘old family’ twats walk all over you like they’re not just kids, still, playing pretend that anybody actually gives a shit about them..!” She hissed and shoved a few of the fluffier sweaters aside. “Gods, I’m so glad we don’t have to be there today. We should do this every time, really. I cannot wait until I’m old enough not to have to deal with that crap at all.”

Amiela considered her next words with a sidelong gaze through the lonely clothing aisle. “They don’t ‘walk all over me.’” She inhaled the scents no ordinary human could truly catch, the earthy tones of linen and long-dead pelts, nose twitching at each recent trace of humanity, ears primed for any small hint that her words could be overheard. “Ignoring them doesn’t count as letting them get their way.” Amiela closed her eyes for a brief moment and breathed in deeper. “My aunt says the people who lose the most always think they’re winning. Sometimes, they never even look up and realize it.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’d go and beat them up, if it wouldn’t...” Eulalie’s eyes flashed with regret. “You know.”

Amiela spoke nothing else for a time. Her mind could not help but focus on the scents of dust, of flaky newspaper clippings framed high and fashion photographs far older than either of them hanging proudly over the walls between rows of scarves and feathered trimmings. Her gaze honed in on the sensation of delicate eyes peering placidly from the swirls of ink that depicted them.

In which way, Amiela wondered, had her younger self ever managed to picture herself there, as if she could have truly grown enough to slip back into the guise of true humanity, to become anything more than some odd, gawky witch unremarkable by even her own people’s standards. If she could truly call them as such. “It really doesn’t bother me anymore.”

Eulalie scoffed. “Ugh. I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.” She mostly ignored the soft look Amiela tried to give her. “Well. Does anything stand out to you from these, over here?” Eulalie fluffed up one of the more puffy winter jackets. “I mean, you’ve always looked good in blue and green. Red, too, because of how light your hair is.” She tilted her head. “Hmm. I still think you could rock the blonde look if you decided to bleach it.”

“Blonde? Gods. My aunt would disown me.” Amiela grimaced a bit, but the look was not serious at all. “I already look like the black sheep of the ‘family.’”

“Hah! No way. If anything, it’s the opposite-” Eulalie wagged her finger high and peered back over her shoulder. She pointed right at Amiela with a wry smirk. “You... Oh, you’re just some sweet little toffee-brown lamb looking all soft and lost around a bunch of scary looking freaking giraffes with jet black hair.” She grinned even more. “You’re a real oddity. Sure.”

The twinge of mirth faded from Amiela’s eyes. “It’s only my aunt now, really.”

“I know.” Eulalie smiled much more gently for her then. “She... Looks like them.” Her gaze began to soften as well. “All of them. But so do you, in your own way.” Eulalie peered back ahead to quirk an eyebrow at one of the jacket price-tags. “I mean, she barely did anything when you rocked up with your ears pierced way back then. I doubt she’d really care if you got highlights or something, at least. Just a little color to start.”

Amiela tried her best to not mumble. “I don’t think I’d look good blonde.” She tilted her head aside with a slight frown when Eulalie lifted a scarlet-plum jacket with light gold trimming. “And, um, no. Not red.” She hesitated even more at the sight of it, but then shrugged. “It’s not bad, I mean. I just don’t like it on me much.” Amiela yawned a quiet sound and moved instead to peer back and forth and wander a bit further into the snug little clothing shop.

Despite it all, the plush softness of fabric and the familiarity of each garment style, no matter how foreign-fashioned they were, something else about that cozy realm of space began to coax a faint coil of unease the longer she walked in it. It was a feeling that stirred deeper through herself than most things ever did, from the tender beat of her heart to her uncertain mind, as if some long forgotten instinct was straining towards it, yearning for it, despite being clutched so tightly beneath cloying layers of spiced cider and years of learned composure.

Amiela’s gaze tracked back and forth. She found herself, with only the weakest twitch of her nose, searching for the air of woodsmoke, the distant image of a face lost somewhere in her surroundings, a sharper scent among the tones of leather-oil and warm ermine furs, one she could not quite truly recall.

But the walls around her were merely lined to the brim with luxury coats and silken clothing, with scarce few other people strolling around between. Amiela’s keen eyes peered past the displays of woolen pants and sweaters, socks, even long silken underclothes, but she could find no one else other than Eulalie with a face or scent she recognized.

A dim touch of half-tangible sadness finally lifted from her heartbeat with a weary squeeze. Amiela slowly blinked away the veil of uneasiness. She reached out to brush her fingertips over a narrow brimmed hat instead, one with a feather tucked neatly in the cap.

Amiela took a moment to steady her nerves and breathe deeper. With the tiniest of summoned smiles, she placed it right atop her head and turned back towards Eulalie to step forth and strike a somewhat exaggerated pose when she stepped past.

“Ooh, stylish.” Eulalie gestured for Amiela to spin around. “I’m not kidding! You look sharp in that.”

“Yeah, sure. I look like my aunt.” Amiela huffed a quiet laugh when she nudged the hat back atop the display. Even so, the air of praise still felt like butterflies leaping around inside her chest. “My hair doesn’t look good with hats.”

“No, no, it does!” Eulalie waved her hands at the wavy locks resting beside Amiela’s shoulders. “It’s a bit curly at the ends, so it frames a hat just perfect.” She tipped her head to examine them a bit closer. “I guess the only real bad part is how it hides away the rest of your hair.”

Amiela almost wanted to pick up the hat again. But one glance at the rather weightily numerical price tag kept her from reaching for it, much less giving the thing another look.

“Okay, okay! You can’t distract me anymore from finding you a proper jacket!” Eulalie stuck out her tongue at Amiela as she returned to the racks, digging deeper and deeper like some madly enthused archaeologist. “Hush up and let me work my magic.”

Amiela did not quite have the heart to scold her friend for uttering that one particular word again. She simply wondered if she might need to start dodging away from stray bits of scarves and flying coat sleeves if Eulalie kept going on like that. Luckily, at least, the clothing itself looked durable enough to survive the flurried bout of abuse just long enough for Eulalie to finally go stock-still and pause.

“Oh. Look at this one... Woah. The lining’s wolf, it says.” Eulalie gingerly lifted the silkily-lined coat away from the rest to hold it up between the two of them. “So it was hunted. Not farmed, like mink.”

“Is that any less cruel?” Despite Amiela’s best efforts to sound skeptical of the idea, much less refuse to even glance at the jacket held out before her, she could not help but smile at the simmering glower fixed on Eulalie’s face. “They still had to kill it.”

Eulalie pretended to scowl. “You’re not even a vegetarian.”

“Mm.” Amiela held up her hands in lazy surrender. “I guess we’re all sort of arbitrary about these things.”

Eulalie shoved the entire thing into her arms. “Try on the coat.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Amiela moved to drape the ‘offered’ jacket over the nearest spare coat-rack so she could tug off the thin woolen sweater she was wearing. When she finally lifted the proper coat over herself and pulled each fitted arm snug against her shoulders and chest, the fur lining of the hood tickled her neck and jawline. Amiela blinked a few times at the odd sensation. Despite her initial worry, it really was not an unpleasant feeling. “How does it look?”

Eulalie’s expression became infinitely harder to read. “Wow.”

“Alright.” Amiela started to pull the jacket off.

“No, no! No, not a bad ‘wow.’ No. I mean... A ‘wow,’ wow.” Eulalie stepped forward, pacing all around the point where Amiela stood. She leaned in closer to inspect the fabric’s fit. “I’ve just never seen you like that before, you know? With fuzzy lining by your shoulders... It looks really good.”

Amiela shrugged. She moved to step towards the floor mirror just to humor her; she fully intended to entertain Eulalie with just a little more window shopping, then slip right out and drag the girl away to find somewhere much more fun without buying so much as the slightest bit of anything. That was, at least, until Amiela finally set eyes upon herself in the depths of her own reflection.

It may have been the first time in recent memory Amiela could recall herself as looking particularly pretty. But the sudden change of it was not even just the jacket, she came to realize in the dim glow of the sunlit tailory: her features themselves were in some way far lighter than she could recall in any notable sensation.

Even beyond the film of her contact lenses, the darkened glass that hid away the true nature of her eyes, there was still some strange, immaterial spark she had never once witnessed there for herself before.

The surface of the jacket was a rich dark green, lined with soft, silvery gray, colors from the vast reaches of a forest unknown. She looked somehow like she was lost in it, framed between the leaves of brambles and tufted fur, yet unafraid; at ease within the untamed wilderness, as if it was where her image truly belonged.

“See, you look good! It makes you look really adult, too. Way more than that crappy old sweater.” Just behind her shoulder, Eulalie murmured beside Amiela’s ear and reached up to run her hands over the fluffy lining of the jacket collar. She brushed her fingertips closer over the pelt that framed Amiela’s face, as if she was slowly petting the animal it once was. “And this way, it’ll even match your new shirt.”

With the slightest wince, Amiela’s thoughts wandered back to that particular little spur-of-the-moment purchase. She’d chosen it on a whim when they were both stumbling off from the tail end of the midnight concert. Their steps, clumsy as they were, were each washed beneath the light of the stars, tipsy and giggly and impulsive. The boardwalk had still been lined past capacity with vendors hoping for just such a reckless young customer, eager to make even one more sale after the concert excitement began simmering down.

Amiela blinked at her own hazy stir of recollection. Her mind only somewhat returned to the moment where she stood. With a milder sigh, she rubbed her fingertips over the soft lining beside Eulalie’s touch. “Vilkos isn’t a wolf, though.”

Eulalie gave her a shrug. “He sure looks like one.”

Amiela could still recall waking that morning in a jolted whirl of anxiety much earlier on that particular day, gazing over blearily at the empty bottle of cognac dripping slightly atop her hotel room dresser with the brand new t-shirt draped all around it, cursing at herself aloud while hoping she hadn’t really paid that high of a price tag for what was quite potentially knockoff merchandise.

But when Amiela had rolled over enough to examine the shirt a bit closer, the fabric did indeed look rather high quality. Even if it might have been a possible bootleg, at least the material was not cheaply fashioned. The somewhat heraldic-looking beast leaping beneath the band logo letters was printed with crisply clean lines, layered in a fine way between each patterned beam of pastel color.

Amiela had almost considered wearing her new shirt that very day. But she decided she really should wash it first, just in case it was not pre-rinsed to remove any hazardous dye residue. She remembered her aunt always insisting on such things. Curse her knowledge of proper clothing treatment, Amiela supposed.

Eulalie stepped back a few paces to gaze at the deep green coat. “Wow. I really think this might be the one... But we could try on a few more, if you’d-”

“No. I like it.” Any possible excuse to get out of clothes shopping, Amiela’s racing mind rationalized. But that time, she could admit herself, at least in private, she did not even need to claim it as one. Amiela forced herself to coax out a smile, to make her demeanor and gaze become once more dry and keen and utterly, blithely deadpan. “You know Aunt Genevieve’s going to absolutely flip if I blow through all my spending money in the first couple of days, right?”

With her own smile and easily formed laugh, Eulalie shook her head at the notion. “I dragged you here. I’m treating you.”

Amiela’s expression faded faster, tugging down. “No. No way.” She breathed each word in disbelief. “It’s way too expensive-”

“Yeah. But I want to.” Eulalie gave her a warmer smile. She reached out and squeezed Amiela’s hands with her own. “Come on. Who knows when we’re ever going to get another vacation like this, all by ourselves, until we’re really, actually adults...” Her gaze wandered all across the lonely, dusty store aisles. She began to swing her arms ever so slowly, tenderly, along with Amiela’s, swaying them each back and forth. “It’ll be a way to remember it ‘til then, right?”

Still, Amiela hesitated.

“Let me?” Eulalie hushed her voice down softer. “Come on, Amiela. It’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy in... Gods, I can’t even remember. Please?”

The seconds slipped by with the flakes of snow brushing over the windows of the tailory. Amiela closed her eyes, squeezing them shut so tightly to escape the delicate reaches of that most gentle, hazel-blue gaze. “Okay.”

It did turn out to be an exceptionally warm coat. Just a touch too warm, in fact.

They strolled side by side across the promenade of the bustling shopping district. Amiela quickly came to realize that her own inner energy kept reflexively heating her body up by a significant degree from such snowy weather, despite the silver bracelet laced tight around her wrist.

The northern breeze was unyieldingly fierce. Even beneath the constant cozy glow from the storefront windows, a more solid, steady chill swept along with the rapidly gusting winds, settling deep into the bones of every pedestrian in its path.

“I think this is blowing in from the sea.” Amiela blinked a few times against the whirling air. She led the way further along the cobblestone road, following the path that branched out to the boardwalk. “Could be the last gasp of that storm, the other day.”

“Probably, yeah-” Eulalie’s entire body trembled hard when she swiftly rubbed her mittens together. She whined under her breath at the mere sight of the wide open footbridge spanning towards the tourist quarter of the harbor. “Gods. Ugh, don’t tell me you really want to go look at the beach again, do you?! On a day as windy as this?! Frigging maniac.”

“The boardwalk is how you get to the history museum.” Amiela lifted her gaze towards the distant seaside cliffs and smirked a bit against the full brunt of bitterly frigid wind. “You’re not the only one who’s been looking at travel guides, you know.” As her path continued onward, over the first length of

the weatherworn ramp that led towards the river bridge proper, Amiela turned around and stepped a few paces backwards, amused at the sight of her desperately shivering friend. “And you think I’m the one who needs a warmer coat?”

Eulalie forced out a laugh despite her constant shuddering. “S-shush! Gods, we’re not all so lucky to be built like a freaking furnace inside! Ugh, it’s not fair...”

Amiela paused in her tracks then. She stood there, poised atop the highest point of the sloped archway bridge, waiting above the river that spilled forth in a quiet rush of icy foam, easing on towards the boundless sea. She tried not to think of the abundance of magic swirling within her bloodstream, that vast open well of inner flame. Were it not for that, Amiela wondered, would she be feeling just as cold as Eulalie?

Before too many moments could slip by in the space between them, Eulalie stepped up close beside her. She smiled again to try and show Amiela how much her words were only offered in jest, reaching out to wrap her arms all around her and squeeze Amiela tight, or perhaps more to share in her warmth. “I’m fine. It’s just so much colder out here.”

Amiela nodded once against the hug. She ever so tentatively lifted her arms as well, but her hold was far more loose. “It’s... It’s not like I can’t feel it, either.” She mumbled her words against Eulalie’s shoulder, more keenly feeling the scant few inches of height her friend had gained over her in those past few years. Even then, the mere fact of it somehow made Amiela feel immeasurably small. “It’s just usually not uncomfortable for me in winter, this way.”

“I know. So it’s a good thing, isn’t it? You’re always here whenever I get too chilly. Hm. My cuddly little toffee-lamb.” Eulalie giggled at that. Her breath fogged a glittering mist between them. She leaned back a short ways to grab Amiela’s hands again. “There really is nothing wrong with you for it.”

But all around the two of them, the intangible touch of a few too many lingering glances felt all too much like the harsh prickle of judgment, some silent glare of firelight lapping a hair too close.

Amiela lowered her voice. “We shouldn’t.” She broke eye contact and turned herself aside from Eulalie, nerves failing her all at once. She tried, gently, to pull her hands away as well. “People here don’t really seem like the public-affection types...”

Eulalie scoffed without even looking. “What? We’re only being friendly.” Regardless, she let go of Amiela’s mittened hands. “Ugh. Northerners are such prudes.”

Amiela did not turn back. She kept her gaze fixed on the path ahead and that alone. Her head dipped slightly as she walked, however. Indeed. Only friendly. Then why did the mere sound of those words feel like icewater stabbing inside her stomach?

The road that led to the history museum trailed past the concert venue from the previous night. Amiela and Eulalie discovered the scattered remains of thousands of colorful posters there, countless papers coated in thick layers over every last street lamp and bench. The day-old pages were topped only beneath a few hundred newer listings for the upcoming festivities.

But when Amiela glanced up to skim the nearest poster printed in common text, she realized her favorite band in particular would not be returning for at least a few more days, not until after the upcoming festival.

“Do you think we should go and see Vilkos play again?” Eulalie hurried to grab a loose flier drifting around the windy street. “Sheesh, wait up!”

When she finally caught it, dodging past the path of a few other idling tourists and snatching it right out from the air with a deft grab and a few graceful steps on her tiptoes, Eulalie held it up high to examine the design, gazing at several colorful geometric symbols arranged to create a singular clawed footprint. The name of the band stood scattered in messy letters printed across the design.

Eulalie turned the poster around for Amiela to see. “Looks like they’re doing an earlier evening show next week. Maybe they’ll change up the set for it... Or maybe, like, a preview for the new album?” She grinned and raised a sly eyebrow at the idea. “Ooh, we could use that to explain all the merch we got last night without anyone even finding out we broke curfew!”

“Maybe.” Amiela exhaled and stretched her arms high above her head. She yawned when she felt the last few pangs of her headache fade down into a duller sort of soreness.

The cold ocean breeze ruffled deeper into Amiela’s open coat and gusted all across her arms and abdomen, cooling her body down significantly. A panging wave of relief crossed her heart to not feel so stifled and sweaty inside the fur-lined jacket anymore.

Eulalie smiled more gently at the sight, though no less envious of her inner warmth than before. “Just saying, it could make things go a lot more smooth. Especially with everything going on.” She carried the poster over to stand closer beside Amiela.

“I guess so.” Amiela simply stood by the edge of the boardwalk for a brief while, where she could gaze out at the wide open sea. “Do they really expect us to behave here without supervision?”

“Pfft. Well, I mean, yeah. Your aunt kinda is supposed to be keeping tabs.” Eulalie hummed at the feeling of cozy heat billowing softly from within Amiela’s open coat. She ambled closer and gestured back towards the snow-covered heights of the city. “Not that I’m complaining, or anything.”

“She does seem really busy with all this gathering stuff.” Amiela tipped her head forward with a low mutter. “She told me not to worry, either with... You know. All of that, or the-” She hushed her voice. “The Mantilla, even. But everything she’s said about this, the stuff happening now... It makes me feel like she’s trying to hide how frustrating it is. Or something even worse.” Amiela grimaced and reached forward to button up her jacket again. The frigid bite of the ocean air was becoming too much, even for her. “What she said on the ship that night, it sounds like they’ve barely even gotten people to attend this time, much less agree on anything. Even your parents weren’t going to come at first, were they?”

“Right.” Eulalie paused to try and recall the details. “But, um. They said something about coming to save face with your aunt, and everyone, or the usual bullshit..?” She scoffed aloud and leaned nearer beside Amiela, practically resting against her arm. “Ugh. They’re the worst. They really are. I wonder what they’re even doing right now.”

“Something about a unification proposal? I don’t know the specifics.” Amiela watched the icy ocean waves lap and crash down into thick white sheets of froth against the slick stones of the shoreline. She edged her gaze sidelong to peer at a few younger boardwalk-goers chasing the stray posters around the walkway. “We shouldn’t say too much, anyway.”

“Right.” Eulalie leaned forward to prop herself against the railing of the pier instead, crossing her arms ever more casually. “Not like anyone here would ever know who or what we’re even talking about.”

“Still.” Something about the mere sound of it made a nervous little pang twinge mercilessly into Amiela’s chest. “Aunt Genevieve always says it would be ‘only inviting trouble right in through the front door’ to even bring this sort of stuff up publicly in the first place.”

“Well, sure. She’s not the biggest deal around these things for nothing.” Eulalie rubbed her mittens together and breathed a foggy little shiver. “You keep worrying about the Mantilla, lamby, but if even your aunt said..?”

Amiela’s sharp gaze glanced around one more to make sure they were well and truly alone enough there beside the open walkway, where the whirling snow and the steady, salty air of the sea whipped around them like a royal white cloak. She tipped her head further forward, forearms wearily braced against the sleek iron railing, as if withered in quiet defeat. “Elanor called them toothless. Gutted. And my aunt agreed.” Her eyes slid back to find the sight of seafoam crashing over the icy cracks of the distant rocks. “Like nothing they ever were before. Even if there’s more of them around now than they ever had, years ago. Even if they’re stronger, together, than any of us could ever hope to be.”

“I’m... Not saying I don’t believe her.” Eulalie’s gaze slipped downcast for only a moment. “But I don’t think my parents would agree.”

“My aunt said this is why it’s so important, this time.” Amiela’s hands tightened down into fists through her mittens. “‘Join, or bleed out.’ There’s too many cracks in the veil, now. If the veil is even a concept we can defend. And the ley. I’ve never seen it, but I’ve felt it, the times she’s taken me there, and my aunt always says-” Her gaze hardened and lifted towards the windswept sky. “All of our days, they’re numbered. The Mantilla even more than us, she thinks.”

Eulalie lifted her arms from the rail. She paced closer with her own slight dip of posture. “What do you think?”

“What do I know?” Amiela’s voice scoffed before she could stop it. “Who... Even am I, when it comes to all that? Do I get an opinion on it?” She felt herself smile in a bitter way without truly meaning to. When she finally glanced over at Eulalie, she found she really did not mind the sensation of that old, familiar pain splintering through her own heart as much as she would have ever first thought. “You’re the only one other than her and Elanor, or Elanor’s kids, who would actually care. Or even pretend to.”

“I... I don’t think that’s true.” Eulalie looked very much like she wanted to reach for her hand again, but she refrained. “But you, um. Aren’t totally wrong.”

Amiela’s gaze softened for her. “You’re still shivering.”

Eulalie smiled. She gritted her teeth against the whirling cold. “Let’s get to the museum?”

The winter world swirled forth with the gradual passage of scenery and time, blurring along the winding, snowy trek up towards the grand stone building atop a cliff by the sea.

Amiela could already sense that in times far apart, through the much warmer months, the terraced path to the museum would have been lined tall with stately gated gardens and sleek waterway founts. But beneath the heavy blanket of snow, the various outdoor attractions were all covered up, hidden beneath thick tarps and protective cloth with rope binding.

Admission fare was not ridiculously expensive, at least. The new coat warming Amiela’s body, as nice as it felt, must have certainly lodged a rather serious dent into Eulalie’s pocket change. Though Amiela knew Eulalie’s parents were quite affluent, that did not mean their daughter was not given a strict budget from them.

With that wisdom, Amiela insisted on paying for both of their museum tickets, as well as a special pair of passes to see the ‘exclusive exhibit’ on a recent paleontological excavation from the northern wastes of the world.

“Ooh, I wonder what it could even be! The brochure isn’t really saying much.” Eulalie practically hopped up and down while she skipped past the ticket stiles and red rope barriers of the lofty marble entryway, dancing on her tiptoes into the massive reception hall. Eulalie’s footsteps echoed loud and clear over the grand old tile, even beneath the sheer din of bustling noise from the numerous other museum visitors. “If they made you pay extra, then it’s got to be really cool, right?!”

“It had better be.” Amiela trailed along after Eulalie while she stared down at the printed booklet in her hands, meandering her way through the crowds of quiet chaos. The admission attendant had stapled the little pamphlet to the set of regular museum passes. “If it’s just some old polar lion bones, or leaf imprint fossils, I’m asking for a refund.”

“But a lion would be so cool, though!” Eulalie tapped her chin with her fingertips to make herself look very thoughtful, wandering off to glance around at a nearby modern pottery exhibit. “Not worth as much as you paid, but still cool.”

Amiela scoffed without looking up. “No way. They already have tons of taxidermy and replica anatomical models over on the public floors.” She flipped through a few more pages. “I want to see the copper swords they found in Tanica. And there’s supposed to be some of the oldest arrowheads ever discovered, too.”

“Boring.” Eulalie grinned and sauntered right up to nudge her elbow into Amiela’s ribs. “Let’s go see the lion!”

Amiela shot her a wry smile. “Flip a coin?”

Even then, they found themselves ignoring the outcome of such a wager to spend their time freely wandering the lofty halls instead, looking at whatever they came across first.

The museum boasted multiple floors filled with local cultural exhibits and fine art displays, not to mention an entire sprawling wing filled with ancient archaeological statuary. The pair of them brushed past most of the various art galleries, however, having already seen most of the same copies in prior visits to different museums.

But when they finally came across a massive display hall filled with utterly impeccable taxidermy, the sight of a rearing polar lion that looked as real as if the beast stood frozen, brandishing fierce jaws and dagger-length claws in the air before it, Eulalie nearly looked as if she’d seen the face of a god itself.

She absolutely insisted on taking a picture. Amiela had to rush off to go and find the gift shop at the front entrance to buy a disposable camera just to keep Eulalie from making too much of a scene.

“Okay, okay. Pretend it’s chasing you.”Amiela offered a silent word of thanks to whichever museum curator was in charge of the lighting design in the bio-science wing of the natural history floor. She tried not to fumble with the tiny camera, switching off the flash setting in particular so as not to disturb anyone. Despite that, none of the people nearby were giving the two of them even the slightest of odd looks, certainly not for just being a silly pair of teenagers. “Come on, look really scared. Make it convincing.”

Eulalie pretended to press her hands up close against her face and silently wail at the mere sight of the giant lion. “Are you taking it now?”

“Yeah. Hold still. I just don’t want to have the flash on. The signs say not to.” Amiela snapped a few more pictures from slightly different angles. “Oh. Wow. This is even a color camera...”

Eulalie blinked in slight surprise. “How much was it?”

Amiela paused to retake another shot over the one where Eulalie had blinked. “Not even expensive, actually. I think there’s a place to get the photos developed back in the gift shop.”

“Oh, cool. But that’s probably where they get you!” Eulalie grinned and wagged a single finger. “I’ll bet there’s a nice ‘little’ convenience fee to have the pictures printed...” She lowered her voice down to a conspiratorial hush. “That’s how these places make all their money back, you know.” When Eulalie saw Amiela lower the camera, she stepped up to take hold of it instead. “Your turn.”

Amiela glanced around, peering up at the various examples of preserved fauna nearby. She could see several more species of unusual wildcats, a number of bears and extinct ursid relatives from all corners of the discovered world, a far larger array of feral canines, and even a few exotic animal genuses from far across the wide open seas.

“Okay.” Amiela stepped forward to one in particular that caught her eye: an animal taller than even the white snowy lion when reared upon both hind legs. Amiela stared up at the sleek features of the beast. It was a species of wild nomadic equine, though it possessed a tail much more like that of a lion than anything resembling a true horse or donkey. From the very center of the creature’s forehead, two fiercely scaled horns bloomed skyward, while its elegant cloven hooves and muscular legs were each locked in a powerful prancing pose. “I like this one.”

“Of course you would.” Eulalie rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “Okay, pretend it’s some fantastical animal you’re seeing on safari. Look amazed, or shocked.”

Amiela quirked an eyebrow and merely stood there, staring back at her.

“Or would you rather get up on top and ride it?” Eulalie held the camera ready. “That would definitely make a better picture.”

Amiela just placed her hands in her pockets and slipped into a more relaxed sort of pose. She kept her expression entirely neutral. “I am not going to get arrested for vandalism over breaking a priceless museum exhibit.”

“Sheesh. You’re no fun.” Eulalie began to snap a few photos. “At least smile for these.”

She did smile, though it began to feel quite different from any picture Amiela had ever been asked to take. It nearly began to remind her of the more candid shots her aunt sometimes took and fawned over in her numerous stacks of photo albums, little moments of life caught and cherished whenever Amiela wasn’t really expecting it.

Amiela remembered peering over each of them together, the way her aunt would smile with such a wistful air and show her each of them, countless times, year by categorized year. The pages would span all the way back until Amiela herself had been scarcely more than a little toddler at the kitchen table staring into the depths of the camera lens, face flecked with tiny bits of morning breakfast cereal as if she could not even slightly fathom the strange contraption her aunt held high before the two of them.

The camera clicked. Amiela found herself staring at how Eulalie focused every shot at just the angle suited for her. Somehow, though she could not see what her friend could find inside that mirrored glass, Amiela came to realize it did capture something just as natural as those days years ago: a far more easy, unforced smile that slowly crept across her lips and settled there, a look that did not make her heart feel as if was sinking miles beneath the solid floor. She might as well have been floating on air.

“Hey. Scooch over a little so I can get the identification plaque in this one.” Eulalie squinted to try and read the tiny letters through the camera lens. “Oh, it’s a qilin? That’s cool. It’s so weird and patchwork, though. Like some little kid doodled it to life.”

“I’ve never seen a living one. I doubt many people have.” Amiela looked over to admire the way the unusual beast’s soft white fur became sheets of pale blue scales instead, melding together around the point where the hind legs met the torso. “That would be... A once in a lifetime experience.”

“Yeah. Too bad they can’t keep a live one in a zoo.” Eulalie snapped one more picture before she lowered the camera and stepped up to examine the smaller scrawl of translated text on the plaque. “It says... They’re extremely elusive and clever animals, that this one was only ever caught because it was already wounded.”

Amiela stepped over to peer at the other side of the massive animal. There was indeed a point where one of the hind legs looked somewhat odd and twisted beside the lower flank, as if the taxidermist had been required to improvise greatly and conceal a massive flaw in the body.

“Poor qilin.” A deeper, much sharper pang filled Amiela’s heart. It was not the first thing she ever began to think of when observing such colorful preserved animals. Somehow, it felt all too easy to forget the fact that the numerous walls of posing beasts must have all once died, been gutted, sewn up and stuffed to ever have been displayed there.

Amiela closed her eyes. The sound of the milling crowds chattering all around her felt far louder than it ever truly was in that moment, weighted and stifling in a way her mind could not describe. But just when it all began to feel like the sound was ringing all too loud inside her ears, that the noise itself might just drag at her bones, drag her into the earth, or even swell up high and strike her, she felt only a soft touch at her hand instead. It was hidden there, behind the little disposable camera, the barest brush of Eulalie’s fingertips moving slowly against her own.

They waited in that place, among more people than either of them could count, lost within a moment that felt silent from all the world around them, miles apart from everything in some impossible way.

“It’s alright.” Amiela slowly opened her eyes again. “It’s just.. Sad, for something like that to end up like this.” She stared back up at the rearing image of the once-wild beast. “It must have really been something else.”

Eulalie smiled for her then. “I’m sure it was.”

Amiela peered her way further around, observing the masses of people who each went by in their way, wandering none the wiser of how she might have lamented the spirit of a proud beast lost to time.

She watched the little groups of children chase each other around the roped-off section that held an entire pack of sleek gray canines, proud beasts perched on slabs of rock to overlook the display just across the walkway, a herd of tiny antelope frozen in perpetuity, unaware of the glass eyes as dead as their own watching ravenously over the crowds.

Amiela spared one more glance for the towering quilin, that posing, tailored husk set out among so many others like it. She tore her line of vision away from the hall filled with so many animals, looking out into the adjacent corridors with a near-empty, shrouded gaze. “Maybe we should go find this ‘exclusive exhibit’ before the crowds get any worse.”

“Sure.” Eulalie eased her hand back from where it lingered, but not without ever so gently reaching up to pat over Amiela’s nearest shoulder. She looked around to try and find any navigation signs. “Didn’t the ticket lady say it was somewhere in the exclusive floors?”

The two of them roamed a while longer. But neither of them saw many signs at all for such a special exhibition, and the scarce few they could find did not exactly advertise much hint that it actually, presently existed. In fact, Amiela began to realize that the only reason she’d ever purchased the special passes in the first place was given the way she’d asked the attendant at the ticket counter if there were any exclusive upgrades available.

“Weird.” Eulalie yawned a soft, breathy little note while she walked. “Mm. Man, shouldn’t there be banners, or little kiosks around to get access tickets for it..? Or something, at least.” Her eyes searched back and forth, peering all around as she traveled with Amiela through the various exhibits, hunting for any faint scrap of information. “If it’s open for the public, you’d think they’d be falling all over themselves to sell upgraded passes.”

“Maybe it isn’t entirely finished.” Amiela held the information booklet closer to squint and search over a more detailed map of the museum floors. “It could be like an early access preview? That kind of thing.”

“Hm. I guess so.” Eulalie pretended to shuffle her feet and kick at the air with a dejected sigh. “If we ever actually find it...” She halted all at once when she realized precisely what was waiting past the space where she’d just kicked at, the shining blue sight of a far more open view than she could have ever imagined a museum might hold. “Oh.”

Amiela’s gaze slid up from the map in her hands. And just like that, a most tiny, hidden spark in the hollow depths of her eyes kindled, ever so softly, and spun.

The dome towered high over the concrete walls, elegant and stark. Sheets of fine glass shone nearly as clear as air between them, braced far aloft by sleek steel beams that reached skyward in some way that conjured an image of delicate birdcage wire, arcing high over the grand curvature of a tremendous observational telescope.

“Gods, Amiela, look!” Eulalie’s words rose high and almost faltered. She stared up at the vast, sprawling arc of the translucent dome. “It really is just the sky, like it always is, but..!”

“Can you imagine what they can see through there?” Amiela’s gaze was fixed instead on the lines of glass-encased metal and forged brass, the roped-off portion of the room beside the main viewing apparatus. “The stars... The moon. Even other planets.”

Eulalie let her eyes settle over the sight of the moon itself, the broad horizon of pearlescent, cratered white and chalky blue resting just over the boundlessly churning sea. “You’d almost think part of it was swimming, the way it looks right now.”

Amiela finally turned to see the ‘half-submerged’ moon as well, but she found herself looking more at the pale streak of pastel color that curled above the topmost horizon. “You can sort of see the orbiter.”

“Mhm. It’s a clear day, yeah.” Eulalie hummed and stepped forward to smile and lean against the railing of the upper observation deck, a wide marble overlook perched far above the telescope platform. “Have you... Ever thought about getting back to it?” She gently nudged her elbow into Amiela’s side when she heard those quiet footsteps approach. “I mean, I know it’s not the same, really, astronomy and-”

“No.” Amiela’s gaze became hard, but then scattered. “No, I-” Her words nearly shied away with the rest of her. “It’s not for someone like me.”

Eulalie frowned. “Are you sure?”

A long silence gripped her. “I can’t get what I want out of it, Eulalie.” Amiela slid her hands into her jacket pockets and sighed. “I’m... Selfish that way. I just can’t.”

Eulalie merely kept leaning against the banister, staring out at the distant waves that lapped beyond the glass in the wide open sea. The further coastline was just visible in the midday light: yet another icy, glittering city mirrored from so many miles over the inland stretch of water, distorted by the haze of mist from the sea and the sheer span of distance in between. Further off to the south, those dark, ceaseless waves might as well have been all that there ever was, as if they continued into infinity.

From the nearest edge of her gaze, Eulalie watched how Amiela leaned back against the rails instead, refusing to even look at the shimmering windows and all they could allow her to see.

Amiela’s voice became soft yet strained, a more waveringly nauseous manner of speaking. “Ranya wanted to help, you know.”

Eulalie’s eyebrows lifted high. The rest of her expression did not change. “How long has it been since the two of you talked?”

“Hah... Too long.” Amiela forced herself not to choke over such words. She gripped her hands tight inside her pockets. “But what can I even do about it? What’s another month, with all the rest? Another year?”

“Amiela.” Eulalie made her tone fall more gentle. “It’s... Look.” Her voice hummed with the slightest hint of a testy note. “Listen. I know you don’t like talking about it. Even with me.” Eulalie’s eyes briefly glinted towards what hid behind what she spoke. “But burying things down like that doesn’t help. It doesn’t... Make them go away. Even if you still don’t see eye to eye with her, you have a life of your own, now. She can’t be mad at you for wanting to live it. But the two of you... Gods, you’ve always had something no one else can ever understand.” Eulalie’s faint smile began to look a bit more presently clear. “That’s special, even if your aunt, or my parents, or whoever else would tell me off and call me nuts for saying it.”

Amiela’s shoulders bristled, but she forced herself to be calm. “It’s more that she lied. For so long.”

“Mm. I wouldn’t exactly be happy about that, either.” Eulalie reached out to touch the arm of Amiela’s jacket. “Just think about it, okay? You’ve always been so close. If anyone can figure things out with each other, it’s the two of you.”

Amiela still closed her eyes, pressing them shut as if it pained her. “It wasn’t war, Eulalie.”

“I know.” Eulalie gently took hold of Amiela’s shoulder and squeezed. “But we weren’t around for it. You never even met them. Neither did she.”

The full and honest brunt of it hurt more than the way in which Eulalie said it. Amiela tried to ignore the way her eyes stung, the way her heart weakly twinged.

“Come on.” Eulalie patted Amiela’s arm once more and tried to smile the same as she did before, the broad, grinning gleam of adventure to seek and newfound mystery to uncover and follow. “Let’s keep looking. If I can’t find this ‘special exhibit,’ then I hereby renounce any and all claims I have to being the greatest investigative journalist this side of the Lusantic!”

“Oh.” Amiela could already feel the first frail hints of humor creep back into her own voice, the dry smile that pushed against her clinging melancholy. Her ears listened to the sound of swiftly tapping footfalls descending over burnished stairwell steps. Amiela gradually followed after Eulalie, past the main mezzanine platform overlooking the enormous bronzework telescope. “It’s serious, then.”

“Of course it is. I take my extracurriculars very seriously.” Eulalie nodded assuredly to herself while she ambled right down the sloping balcony stairway that led further into the lower deck of the observatory. “There’s really not a lot of things better than seeing your name under a headline, Amiela, I can tell you that much for certain. Even if it’s just some silly campus newspaper.”

Amiela smiled to herself just a bit more. She could certainly recall the way her aunt’s letterbin looked that day, back when a certain someone had mailed over more copies than could ever possibly be crammed to fit inside the poor little straining mailbox.

But Eulalie paused then, even in the clamoring bustle of the midday crowds, when she caught sight of a small, half-hidden glimpse of a long, winding stairwell leading down. There were no visible barriers or signs placed in front of the steps. “Look, those will probably take us back far enough to see every floor.” She stared at the way the stairwell itself was comprised partway between glass and concrete, all polished and sleek in a similar way to the observation dome. “Then we can figure out where the heck this place even is.”

Amiela looked at her informational booklet. The printed map had definitely not been updated to include the more recent stairwell construction. She bit back the tiniest frown.

Eulalie started off without an ounce of hesitation towards the spiral flight of stairs. “You still have those tickets, right?”

Amiela gently waved the booklet without looking up from it: four pairs of tickets were fixed to the back. The first set, a pair of basic museum access slips, were printed with a colorful flourish of sepia ink. The designs even depicted a few motifs of the more prominently featured current exhibitions. But the second pair of tickets were simply plain black and white, without any decorative accent at all, not even a description of what they were actually passes to grant access for.

Eulalie descended the narrow winding walkway. Amiela trailed along behind. With each floor they passed, the glass and steel gradually became stone and mortar. They could see nothing else beyond it.

All of the cheery clamor and bustle of the museum halls began to gradually fade. In time, there were no more sounds of guided tour groups or people chatting together left to hear, not even the echoed sounds of numerous little children running around laughing and playing.

“I think we’ve already gone past everything. Shouldn’t we-” Amiela could feel the slightest prickling sensation creep over the surface of her skin. She felt like her footsteps kept dragging the further she dared to walk.

Eulalie was practically skipping down over the stairs ahead of her. But then the young woman halted for just a moment to grin up at Amiela from beside the smoothest angled corner of the stairwell frame.

She realized then that she really would go anywhere for that girl.

“It must be down here somewhere if it isn’t up there.” Just like that, Eulalie continued along. Her voice chimed faster the more she wandered down the stairs. “They’d have blocked the place off if we weren’t supposed to be in it, right?”

Amiela shrugged. Her pace had already slowed to a gingerly taken pause. She looked out from the last of the stairwell windows, gazing at the calmly churning sea. Amiela watched the foggy plume of a massive steamship leaving the harbor from the neighboring coast, beyond the icy waters to the west. The craft looked even tinier than the little model sailboat her aunt once fashioned for her from a fallen orchard bough. Amiela peered back down at the stairwell. Eulalie was already almost out of sight.

In the passing minutes, the windows faded as well. All that remained to them there was the sight of bare concrete and the occasional electric bulb, dimly lit lights that hummed a low, droning buzz over the dusty architecture.

Amiela blinked a few times against the darkness. “I didn’t know they had public basement floors.”

“Look, there’s a sign!” Eulalie called out from up ahead. “Hm... ‘Findings from the Savage North?’ Sheesh.” She gave the unembellished posting a somewhat dubious look. “Well. It’s printed in common, so it must be public access.”

Amiela exhaled a humorless tone. “By that logic, the electrical rooms and supply closets are all up for grabs...” She tucked the paper booklet away in her jacket pocket and lifted her arms to briefly rest them behind her head. “Just wait. They’re going to be dragging us back upstairs in handcuffs any minute now.”

“Oh, shush.” Eulalie gave her a dry smirk and kept prancing right down the stairs. “If they do end up kicking us out, I’m blaming you and all your pessimism.”

But it began to feel towards both of them as if it took far longer to reach the lowest corridor than the amount of steps it actually took. Time itself seemed to ripple differently in such a place, flowing and easing without hurry over the walls and stairs and spiraling on and on, sinking so far away and below the main exhibitions and crowded display halls.

The deepest of the basement floors did not reach below sea level, given how Amiela recalled the museum was perched high atop the point of a massive, oceanside cliff. Even then, she did begin to get the distinct impression that she and Eulalie were each traveling someplace very deep and very, very silent, almost just as mysterious as the empty floor of the sprawling sea.

Finally, in the furthest passageway, past the last stairwell junction that led down into a dusty, bare corridor, they both caught sight of a desk seating a rather sleepy-looking boy not much older either of them. He sat browsing a magazine on the uncluttered reception counter, seemingly bored out of his mind.

“Hi!” Eulalie called out and flashed the young man a bright smile. “Hey, could we ask you something? Are we, um, ahah-” She glanced down at herself and blinked a few times to seem more flustered than she really was. “Are we in the right place, here? We have some special tickets...”

The young man looked up at her and blinked as well. “Oh. Right. Didn’t realize it was open to the public yet... Unless, uh, you guys are with all those big-shots from before?” When he received no response besides a pair of confused glances, he merely slid his magazine aside and reached for an authentication stamp. “It’s all good. I just need to check your passes for a sec.”

Amiela stepped over to set the booklet down on the counter. She found she really did not quite care for the way the boy quickly eyed the general area beneath Eulalie’s face before he slid the tickets closer to himself. He stamped each pass with a crested seal of regal navy ink.

Eulalie spoke up again with a halting little laugh. “So, um, we aren’t even sure what these are really for. There were no signs around..?”

“Yeah, no worries. It’s actually pretty cool.” The young attendant handed back the booklet with a smile. He gestured towards the wide corridor ahead. “Sounds like one of those big ice shelves way up north got busted and fell away into the sea. It gave them a chance to really dig around in there, get way past the permafrost and everything, so there’s some pretty gnarly stuff they brought back.”

Eulalie giggled at the young man’s choice of words. “Ooh, what kind of stuff?”

“Ah, well. It’ll be way more fun if you see it without me spoiling it.” He winked at her and smiled, leaning forward to rest his arms against the ticket desk. “Let me know what you think after, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks!” Eulalie waved at him while she picked up the booklet with the pair of stamped tickets. She hurried off to catch up with Amiela down the hall.

The two of them moved along in relative silence for a while, walking side by side until they were out of earshot once more.

“Hmm. A little weird. But, well, not as creepy as he looked at first.” Eulalie peered around to examine the dim blue lights inlaid over the floor of the corridor. “I bet he’s probably really bored, sitting all alone. They ought to at least wire a radio or TV down here for him, or something.”

Amiela only shrugged. It was not, she told herself, that she did not get along with boys. She was just not quite sure if she would ever understand why Eulalie always humored their more awkward attempts at small talk.

“It’s got to be pretty cool if they need a whole new floor for it.” Eulalie stepped over a loose scrap of construction tape. “They sold us the passes in the first place, so it has to be officially open, right?”

Amiela glanced at the official seal of ink emblazoning the tickets. “I suppose so.”

Finally, once the two of them finally came upon something that actually resembled a reasonable entrance to the lonely new exhibit, they found a much stronger peal of light reaching out from deep within the tall stone entryway. An oddly arched structure was immediately visible above the entrance.

The entryway led out into a vast domed area much like the telescope observation platform, only the place they found themselves wandering through was fully shrouded beneath the gloom of the underground. As they walked further beneath the jaggedly curved shadows of the wide open display room, bewildered by what in the world their eyes could have ever possibly been looking at, Amiela abruptly glanced up. She reached out on reflex to grasp for Eulalie’s arm.

Eulalie followed her gaze. “What?” Her voice became hushed, then so soft and high. “Oh, gods...”

But they were already standing there beneath it, that utterly gargantuan something, the angular structure that loomed long-dead against the unyielding concrete beams braced below. It could not have even been called a true skeleton; it was not bone or keratin that formed those bodily shapes and curling horns, but a semi-translucent layered encrustment that could only be identified as calcified cartilage.

The ancient ligaments stretched forth, yawning out towards their utter limits along either side of the enormous hollow face; its fossilized jaws stood wide enough for an entire herd of cattle to amble through with ease. A pale, most luminous sheen glinted all along the stratified surface of the preserved being, as if some inner force of life still lingered there just as stubbornly.

Amiela found she could only stare out into the quiet void, the skyward pit of a gap where a colossal eye once waited and watched. “How... How in the world did they find this..?”