Michael pondered as he strode forward, his steps coming to a halt at the gatehouse to Berwick Castle. 'Is it an Ability? a Spell? A remarkably keen intuition? Or does she simply possess more Magick Ions than Agent Mitchell?'
A cold breeze cut through the air, its intensity lacking the force of the wind that had whipped his face when Mibuki rolled down the windows during their drive. This breeze felt prickly against his nose, and as he inhaled, he sensed a nearly imperceptible charge of Magick lingering in the air.
Glancing back at Grace, he noted her anticipation of his performance far exceeded Agent Mitchell's, a sentiment he understood well. 'She wants to witness the Grace Period in action,' Michael finally deduced, sharing her anticipation. Shifting his focus back to the gatehouse, he found himself wondering, 'Agent Mitchell can't perceive it... Could Grace and I be attuned to it due to our stronger Magick?"
A transparent veil of Magick enveloped the gatehouse, its presence more sensed than seen by Michael. 'It's as though I'm peering through a clear window and can discern the thickness and resilience of the glass...' he reflected on the mantle. 'Should I proceed cautiously, given your lack of reaction?' he mused, redirecting his thoughts to String. 'Confident because we share the Grace Period?'
String remained silent. In fact, for the past couple of days since David's departure, It had been lethargic. With Michael preoccupied with joining the Bureau and David's recent exit, he hadn't found the time or reason to delve into String's role in the upcoming two years.
"Well-" Grace began but faltered.
Michael refrained from advancing, hesitant to disrupt the integrity of the mantle. Any action he took could introduce unwanted variables into the testing of the Grace Period.
A faint "Ting" resonated, lingering in the air.
Grace and Agent Mitchell observed as Michael entered the gatehouse, only to find himself suddenly surrounded by a web of cracks. A surge of Magick emanated from the disintegrating fragments of the web, now visible enough for even Agent Mitchell to sense – the very signature he had been pursuing since his arrival at Berwick.
"How?" Agent Mitchell was dumbfounded by Michael's seemingly simple act of walking, which had inadvertently toppled a Magickal mantle. It puzzled him deeply; even though he had lost his memories twice, he was certain he would have noted such an occurrence in his records.
As shards of Magick showered down around him, Michael managed a strained smile. "I have a G-"
"Michael is unique," Grace interjected firmly. "He was recruited with an already established Pool of Magick Ions. The full details are confidential. Consider him as valuable as any Rank 0 Agent, and that's all you need to know."
Agent Mitchell reassessed Michael. 'As valuable as any Rank 0, Michael? As though all Rank 0 Agents are equal…' he acknowledged the implication, as did Michael.
Without pausing, Michael continued his stride from the gatehouse to the courtyard, where an intriguing scene awaited him, drawing Grace and Agent Mitchell to follow in haste.
Nine slender, androgynous figures with silvery hair glided gracefully, clad in tunic and surcoat, with snug-fitting hose adorning their legs and pointed velvet shoes completing their attire. Eight of the nine engaged in playful giggles and laughter as they twirled in circles, exchanging partners with seven ghostly companions, while the air resonated with the strains of music. The ninth figure, adorned in the center of attention, led a woman in her twenties in a dance, her nightgown shimmering under the starry canopy above.
Abruptly, the dancing ceased, the music fading away, causing the seven specters to dissolve and the woman to slump, released from the grasp of the lithe dancer. With their revelry interrupted, the joyous expressions on the faces of the nine turned to ones of terror and dismay, their laughter replaced by shrill cries.
"Eleven o'clock!" Grace's urgent cry pierced the air as she dashed towards one of the nine positioned like the hour hand on a clock, beckoning Michael and Agent Mitchell to follow suit.
Agent Mitchell reacted swiftly, though struggled to keep pace, while Michael remained entranced by the enchanting scene unfolding before him, a manifestation reminiscent of fairy tales and waves of Magick that shaped reality. This was the Magick he had always envisioned – a stark contrast to the destructive kind he was introduced to. While he had sought greater power when making the Demonic Contract, his intent was not for perpetual warfare.
The nine figures waved their arms, manipulating the surrounding stone, earth, and air, hurling them toward the trio before retreating in a haze of agitation. As the first figure melded into the walls of Berwick Castle and the second dissolved into glittering dust, Michael snapped out of his reverie and lunged towards the figure Grace had singled out.
Agent Mitchell struggled to keep up and was forcefully pushed back by the onslaught, while Michael pressed forward, enduring the assault despite being grazed by sharp pebbles. He pondered, 'Why didn't the Grace Period shield me from these Magickal attacks? Was it because I initiated the confrontation, or did it somehow diminish their potency?'
Grace muttered a command and thrust her right arm forward. Wherever her palm pointed, an invisible shield intercepted the onslaught of stone, earth, and air, deflecting their trajectory.
"Got you!" Grace exclaimed triumphantly as she reached for her target's arm. But the moment her hand closed around it, the androgynous figure vanished beneath its clothing, leaving her only with a torn sleeve from its tunic.
A heavy silence descended upon the courtyard, followed by the rumble of the earth as the chaos wrought by the Magick of the nine dissipated, restoring the courtyard to its former state, with only Agent Mitchell, Grace, Michael, and the unconscious woman remaining.
"What were they?" Michael breathed, breaking the silence.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"I have some theories," Grace replied, turning around and clutching the torn sleeve firmly as though it might vanish too. "We'll know for certain once we analyze this fabric."
"I recognized the ghostly figures," Agent Mitchell added, stepping closer to the other woman. "They were the people who had previously disappeared and returned. She's breathing. I believe she was meant to be the eighth victim, and we interrupted whatever kind of ritual those creatures were in the midst of performing."
"You've changed your stance on referring to them as 'victims'?" Grace inquired as Agent Mitchell lifted the woman.
"My initial assumption was that this entire ordeal was merely an inconsiderate yet playful game orchestrated by ancient Spirits. However, their sinister demeanor upon encountering us and their apparent connection to the victims have altered my perspective," Agent Mitchell redirected the conversation, focusing on the woman in his arms. "We have a few options regarding her. It's unlikely she'll be summoned to a random location, especially since the Magick in this area has dissipated. Bringing her to the police station poses challenges; it would be unprecedented for someone who disappeared to return accompanied and conscious. Additionally, she may recollect the events of the night, which could provoke a hostile reaction from the locals, depending on how she articulates her experiences."
"Another option is to wait for her to awaken, create a scenario where we found her wandering, and question her before escorting her back. Alternatively, we could leave her somewhere in town, but securing an interview with her later would be challenging – a missed opportunity given the uniqueness of her situation..."
"I prefer not to flash my badge on a low-Rank 0 mission," Grace remarked casually, smoothing down her hair. "We'll proceed with the second option. Any thoughts, Michael?"
"The second option sounds like the most reasonable course of action to me," Michael replied, understanding that Grace sought his input more to involve him in the mission rather than for genuine insights. He was content with that arrangement.
"Since we're all in agreement, let's relocate," Agent Mitchell suggested.
Less than ten minutes later, they arrived at Castle Vale Park, where Agent Mitchell gently placed the woman on a bench.
"This park is open 24 hours. They close it at night until the situation in Berwick is resolved," Agent Mitchell informed them.
"How soon do you think she'll awaken?" Grace inquired.
"Can you confirm that there's no lingering Magick affecting her?" Agent Mitchell asked.
"Do you know how to assess a person for residual Magick?" Grace turned to Michael.
"I haven't attempted it before. If it involves manipulating Magick, I can give it a try," Michael hesitated momentarily, mindful of the potential consequences. 'I trust you to stay composed, right?' he silently addressed String.
String remained silent.
"Control and a certain level of Magick. Yours is high enough; it surpasses mine, and I already have an answer. I'm just seeking a second opinion," Agent Mitchell explained.
"What exactly do I need to do?" Michael inquired.
"Simply infuse your Magick into her body. First, ensure she doesn't possess a Pool of Magick Ions, as none of the other victims did. Then, carefully distribute your Magick throughout her body, with particular emphasis on her head, considering she was in a trance," Agent Mitchell instructed, raising the woman's hand for Michael to examine. "If you encounter any Magick within her, withdraw to avoid triggering it."
Michael bent down and grasped the woman's hand, gently sending his Magick into her body. The examination was relatively straightforward, albeit accompanied by the peculiar sensation of glimpsing into another person's essence. Ultimately, he detected no trace of Magick within her, and to his relief, String remained nestled within his chest. He released her hand with care.
"There's nothing," he reported.
"Her pulse appears normal as well," Agent Mitchell confirmed. "Let's give her an hour or two. If she doesn't awaken by then, I'll rouse her."
"In that case, would you mind keeping an eye on her for a while? Michael and I need to have a discussion," Grace requested.
"No problem," Michael replied as they began their stroll. Grace remained silent for a while, allowing Michael a brief respite from the intensity of the mission to appreciate Castle Vale Park.
Illuminated pathways wound their way through ancient oaks and past a tranquil pond where the graceful silhouettes of ducks glided across the water's surface, accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves providing a soothing backdrop. Crossing an arched bridge, Michael marveled at the gentle babble of the brook beneath, its waters reflecting the glow of the moon. Climbing a rise, they reached the castle ruins where ivy-clad stones whispered tales of bygone knights. There they came to a halt.
"It wasn't my idea," Grace began, breaking the silence.
"What?" Michael was puzzled.
"To single you out and label you as unique. Department Manager Tamara wanted to gauge your awareness of your situation. You can handle it better... While it's acceptable to discuss the topic of your Demonic Contract with select individuals at HQ, the dynamics with those in the Branches are different. You'll come to realize that in time," she stated firmly, refusing to elaborate further.
"Wouldn't it become obvious as I undertake more missions?" Michael countered.
"The inevitable shouldn't be rushed. Instead, use this time to prepare yourself," Grace advised cryptically.
"Can the inevitable harm me while I have the Grace Period?" Michael pressed, seeking reassurance.
Grace remained silent.
"I need- I need and want power, Grace, and I only have two years to attain it. Without facing everything all at once, I'm uncertain if I can achieve the level of power I desire in time," Michael confessed.
"That power, is it for when the Grace Period ends?" Grace guessed, her tone thoughtful.
Michael nodded.
"It was a wise decision to join the Bureau. Of all the Magick-related organizations out there, it is the least likely to sell you out once the Grace Period is over," Grace affirmed.
"What do you mean?" Grace's response surprised Michael, who had expected her to advocate for the Bureau, much like Agent Peiss.
"We are Partners, aren't we?" Grace smiled softly. "Above all else, we have to support each other. I'm not implying that the Bureau is untrustworthy. I'm suggesting that it is the lesser of all evils... Although, most of what I knew about the Magickal world was ingrained in me through the Bureau's training program. Consider my previous remarks as food for thought, served with a dash of charm from a cute MP."
"Then I'll do just that," Michael agreed.
"Now, shall we enjoy a private tour?" Grace proposed, changing the subject with a glimmer of anticipation.
The tension dissipated, and Michael's spirits lifted. "Lead the way," he said to Grace, his voice buoyant with newfound optimism.
...
It was 23:05 in Castle Vale Park, Berwick.
Agent Mitchell contacted Grace, requesting her and Michael's return.
As they approached the bench, about twenty meters away, Agent Mitchell signaled for them to halt and join him instead, leaving the woman behind.
"Don't get too close. She's coming to. Let's pretend to stumble upon her outside the park," Agent Mitchell suggested quietly.
Before long, the woman began to stir. She groggily lifted herself, massaging her head with a pained expression.
"Where...?" she muttered in confusion, glancing around. "Castle Vale Park?" she murmured. "How did I get here? Did I... disappear?" Her voice trembled with fear as she hurriedly exited the park. Still in a haze, she froze when three silhouettes emerged from the darkness, about a hundred meters away from where she left the park.
"Hey! Who's there?" a young man's voice called out.
"Don't shout, Michael," a woman materialized next to the young man, accompanied by another man. "Ma'am, are you alright?" she asked with concern.
"I- I-" the frightened woman stammered.
"Agent Mitchell, call an ambulance. Something's not right with this woman. Ma'am, we're with the police. Take a deep breath, everything will be okay," Grace reassured her, easing her distress. "Come with us, and tell us what happened."