One of the three-headed Soot’s tongue lashes struck Vora in the hip. She snatched up that pain and retaliated with a burst of crystal pupas. They acted like shotgun pellets and blew off one of the heads. Gray blood splattered the walls of the astoundingly clean butcher shop.

The Soot jumped, stuck to a wall, and lashed its tongues again. One nearly peeled Vora's sweaty mask off and then some. She summoned twenty butterflies, and they tore the Soot to ribbons at her commanding arm wave. Her opponent became appropriate for the building, falling into gray and white meaty chunks.

“Twenty at a time is the limit, now. Can’t keep control beyond that. Releasing Eoa from my body is liberating. If I could use it all up, it’d be like I never had my curse.” Puggly went over to the chunks and began eating. “Cannibalism isn’t cute, Puggly. It smells so foul in here,” she realized.

Vora departed the butcher shop, held back a dry heave, climbed up to the roof, and savored respite with cool air. She frowned at her torn threads. It wasn't enjoyable to stitch and patch. Most of them were inflicted through snags and such.

I should leave a calling card. Something that says, ‘You're welcome for protecting you from Soot,’ or something.

The teen peeked over the edge and visually explored the commotion below. It was ladies' night on these pub-filled streets, and they were wooing over a man. He was not just a man but a Chime: Honeydew.

Honeydew was gorgeous with a thin, defined face like a limp-wristed prince, a frilly open shirt, dashing golden eyes, and vibrant, long red hair. Vora often saw him arm in arm with pretty women.

As he entered the bar, Vora wondered what precisely adults did with each other. She figured it was just hours of kissing and hugging. Before she could delve deeper into theories, a bang came from the pub, and a woman ran out the door and fell on her butt.

Vora squinted. “That’s my elementary teacher. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

Honeydew followed after. His voice was smooth but displeased. “How dare someone as ugly as you touch me. I only service the beautiful, not the plagues.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see who you were. You were just—”

Vora held her scream as a beam of light emitted from Honeydew’s finger and went through her former teacher’s chest. She lay there dead, and no one was inclined to help. In fact, they looked away and pretended nothing had happened at all.

No one going to help? No. No one, aside from the Dowsers, would dare stand against the Chimes and the Burning Bell. But this is open murder.

“My night is ruined,” Honeydew wined while he looked at a fresh stain on his shirt. “All of you, leave my gorgeous vision.” He paused when a dressed like a butterfly came from the alley in front of her. Then, with quick disinterest, he said, “I need a drink.”

“Why did you kill her?” Vora asked with force, pointing to her teacher. “What did she do to you?” After being ignored, Vora screamed, “Answer me.”

“I have no time for you and your costumed play, child. I am a Chime, and we Chimes do as we please, and humans shall be ever grateful. I gave this woman a head-start chance to go to heaven.” A butterfly streaked at Honeydew and cut his cheek. Goggling, he touched the seeping brass blood and cracking flesh. “What was that devilish blade that struck me?! You must be a Dowser.”

Vora dodged the beams of light sent her way while those inhabiting the street ran away frightfully. She flicked her hand, and five more butterflies manifested. They struck through Honeydew's knee.

He threw out a hair-raising scream. “Why does it hurt so bad? This isn’t Fallite at all. It’s some sort of dark magic.”

“It is, I guess. You see, I’m a witch. Straight out of the fairy tales. You can call me Monarch.”

She summoned twenty butterflies: her limit. A swirl of sharp crystal wings flew at Honeydew. Wisely, he moved out of the way and struck Vora with hot light, burning the hand she guarded with. She ran, ducked, and dodged while commanding the butterflies to return with the plan to attack Honeydew from behind. Honeydew evaded, and the butterflies returned to Vora’s body. Frustrated, she made a pretty Eoa sword and charged at Honeydew.

“You destroyed my face, you insect!” Honeydew disarmed Vora, lifted her, and drove a knee into her gut, sending her flying into a newspaper box. “I’ll show you true pain. Your magic is nothing.”

Vora’s back was devastated, and the glass from the view window stuck in her ribs. She breathed carefully and turned her injuries into Eoa. She smiled at this accomplishment.

If the injury is not life-threatening, and I have a fast enough reaction, I can heal my wounds while absorbing the pain.

As Honeydew ran fingers through his hair and fabulously kicked an HC at Vora, he declared. “Be squashed. I’m very busy.” He assumed by the crash that his opponent was paste, but he moved the car to see failure. “You’re annoying.” A stinging hit his legs, and he watched crystal caterpillars burrowing into him. “Ahh!”

As painful decay infested Honeydew’s legs, Vora, who’d snuck up a fire escape, lifted her arm to launch some pupa, but a beam shot through the left of her chest, destroying her lung. She collapsed, fell over the metal guard, hit the ground, and harshly inhaled and ex. This time, she was dying. While helpless, Honeydew came over to Vora and unmasked the purple-haired teen.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Vora Snihde. My memory only serves for those nearly equal to my beauty. “Such a waste.” He placed her mask back on and said, “You’ll be with the Bell soon enough.”

With a smoldering hole in her chest and a strained, raspy voice, Vora said, “I’m sorry. I believed I could do it on my own. I’ll admit I’m a fool. Let me do it. I couldn’t save that old fart, but I’ll protect my world. I’ll… I’ll do what I must for normality.” Vora took a harsh breath and demanded, “Just let me take control!”

“What are you talking about?” Honeydew screamed with frustration. “Just die.”

Honeydew shot beams of hot divination from all his fingers, decimating the area where Vora lay dying. His brass heart sank to his toes while Vora slowly stood, healing every shot instantly.

“I’ll make it beautiful.” Vora's voice was restored. It was still posh but icy. “You nearly wrecked my mask.” Monarch removed the damaged mask Klev made, wrapped it, and secured it in her clothing.

Monarch’s left eye had become white and glassy, and the skin around it was cracked like a mirror. This time the cracks made it to her upper arm. A slow gathering of Eoa crystals vortexed, with Monarch as the storm's eye. Hundreds, then thousands of crystals filled the street like a storm. Her Eoa didn’t take the shape of adult butterflies this time, but relatively tiny eggs. They pelted and drove through everything they touched.

“Godless witch,” Honeydew screeched as he was battered by crystalized pain. He was no longer a beautiful creature, as Eoa's decay ravished his body. “The Burning Bell will peel your flesh away.”

Monarch frowned at Vora’s teacher’s body and held out a hand. Agony in death.

A purple, stringlike energy was extracted from Vora’s former teacher. Forming another egg, it shot into Honeydew’s throat, and he became statuesque. After the decay consumed his whole body, Monarch clenched her fist, and Honeydew exploded, releasing a cloud of butterflies and spraying tainted brass liquid on the street.

Monarch began to weep and said sadly, “This beauty I’ve been granted since birth must be shared.”

She shifted her attention to the pub where patrons had hid during the whole fight and walked toward it. The storm followed her, whipping the wind and cracking the environment.

She entered the pub and asked the cowering people, “Do you know how it feels?” When the man she asked shook his head, her arm approached his chest with daggered fingers.

If you're in pain… just smile.

The storm stopped instantly, and the Eoa entered Vora's back. Her flesh was fresh and shining smooth. She pulled back her arm and dabbed her leaking eyes.

Deep within, there was a lifetime of suppressed sorrow. That’s what Vora needed to tame, less she lost herself till death.

***

Rudolf came out of his study with a big grin in his blonde beard. He locked the door and grabbed Madeline, who was passing by. He twirled her, embraced her, and gave a smooch.

“Rudy, what’s going on with you?” Madeline asked with a blush. “You’re being so wild.”

“I was just thinking that we never had the house to ourselves at night since Vora was born. Now that she has a job and won’t be back for hours—”

“I’ll grab some wine,” Madeline agreed frantically. She fixed her hair and went into the kitchen. “The good stuff,” she said, moving away from the cheap wine she hovered above to a white, glowing bottle.

Rudolf rearranged the living room, brought out the phonograph, and grabbed their LP. Madeline came out with glasses and handed one to Rudolf. He sipped and set it aside while Madeline sucked a puddle from hers. They danced wildly to the pop-jazz and ended with a slow-dance to a love song.

With her pale arms wrapped around her husband, Madeline asked, “How long has it been? Truthfully, I can’t remember.”

“Twenty years. I’m supposed to be the one losing my memory.”

“Elderly man.”

“Distinguished gentleman,” he corrected. He guided her to lie on the couch and held his body above hers. “That’s how I tricked you in the first place.”

“Tricked me?” She hit him with a pillow and laughed. They repositioned to sit on the couch naturally and supported their heads on each other. “Won’t be long before it’s like this every night.”

“She’s growing up quick: My little girl.” Rudolf turned on the MP to a halfway-finished movie.

“Did you ever…” Madeline became serious. “Did you ever want another?”

“Maddie… does it still bother you?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“That’s just your mother speaking. One is the perfect amount. God must have thought so too. You’ve been in remission for a decade.”

“Yeah,” she said softly and cuddled closer. “Nothing will stop me.”

A newscaster suddenly interrupted the movie and spoke about a conflict between Dowsers and Chimes on the other side of the country.

“I don’t understand how Nigel was caught up in this Dowser stuff.

“Considering how he lost Patty, I can.”

“Sorry, Rudy. I forget sometimes.”

“Bah, push that out of your mind. This is romance time.” He gazed at her lovingly. “I have something upstairs to show you. In the bedroom.”

“I can’t wait to see it…” She fixed her black hair, took Rudolf’s hand, and vanished up the stairway.

***

In the central church of O’Landra, Maiden Sympha was reading a book at her appropriately-tall desk. The stories humans wrote tickled her. They have entertained her for many hundreds of years. Her upward lips became mild when she sensed a quickly approaching Chime. She closed her book, left the room, and went to the church's main room.

Cherub came flying in, landed in front of Sympha—nearly falling over upon doing so—and placed a hand over her heart. She undid the bow in her hair and transferred a scroll fastened by it to Maiden Sympha.

“I’ve visited all the Bearers, not once, but twice. Only four, I repeat, four have decided to answer. I did well? Did good? I went quick.”

“Yes, Cherub. Thank you,” Sympha replied while kneeling and patting Cherub on her crimson hair. “You are free to go.”

“Bye then. Farewell. Goodbye. Bubye—”

“Will you leave already, Cherub?” another Chime demanded.

“You suck,” were Cherub’s last words before zipping out the door.

Light came from Sympha’s palm, and she waved it over the sealed scroll. After a blast of yellow flames, the scroll opened.

“Such precautions shouldn’t exist,” Sympha sighed. As she read, she returned to her study and sat at her tall desk. “Zaqiel, Gadreel, Sachiel, and Phanuel all agreed to come.” She grinned. “Time to prepare a parade!”

Sympha went to the central hall and gave jobs to her Kindlers to get a celebration set up. She was giddy as a schoolgirl before a big dance. The Kindlers scattered, leaving Sympha alone.

“It’ll be fun and peaceful. Isn’t that right, Hasmed? I know you’re there, so quit hiding.” Awkward silence inhabited the room.

“He’s not here,” Gretgle said matter-of-factly. “You’re not as perceptive as you think you are,” he laughed hoarsely.

Sympha bit her lip, embarrassed. “I was certain he was here.”

“You’ve gone senile in your old age. He’s several towns away.”

“We’re the same age.”

“You were the first daughter of the Burning Bell.”

“I’m going to my study,” she stated, wholly defeated.