My mouth worked through a series of shapes as I processed the statement. Looked down at Sphinx, and doubted every word that the secretary had said. They read my disbelief as it was cyclopean in its enormity. Tapped at their sorc-deck to project my medical chart before me. The ‘patient template’ already applied with its attendant highlighting and sidebar explanations.

“You’re not a true Baron, no, but the tests conducted show that you’re well within the range to be one if you so choose.”

I read, “‘Mass coefficient, two-hundred-and-fifty-five. Density, two-hundred-and-thirty-nine.”

“See, well within the range and if I might hazard, they’ve likely been there for some time now,” the secretary said. “You could attempt the graduation trial right now if you wanted. Of course the entity you’re after to replace your current one would affect the specific risk factors.”

I looked down to find I’d been petting Sphinx since I’d woken up. My fingers running through her raven black hair—calming me as much as comforting her. The idea that graduating would mean replacing her was a rancid thick grease in my throat. Even the verb used, “replacing,” as if it was the most casual thing in the world—some part of me knew that it should’ve been.

“No, I’m in no rush to graduate.” The admission was a surprise to me as much as it was to the secretary. Lodgemembers were supposed to be the reckless type. Graduating faster than even summoners from the collectives tended to do.

“Even so, if you change your mind please attempt all trials in the graduation chambers we have on-site. They’re completely free to use.”

“Why have chambers at all?”

“Sometimes the last refuge for survival is only reached through graduation,” they said. “The benefits are high enough to justify making on-site chambers for the inevitable failures that always occur.”

After I nodded, the secretary returned the sorc-deck to the forms that’d graced my return to consciousness only moments ago. They were release forms for my medical information to be stored in the restricted sections of the Public Record.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is the first time I’ve been to a hospital by myself. I never got sick much, and my parents normally dealt with all this.”

They glanced at the clock in the room and sighed. I was keeping them from something I gathered. Maybe another patient or form that needed filling and filing. Dealing with one girl’s first brush with New World healthcare as an adult was probably the job they hated the least. Though when I followed their glance I noted that it was twelve thirty p.m.—lunch. Their stomach growled in a dull admission of where their mind was already at.

“Quick plan comparison then. Sign the release, and the information is on the restricted section of the Public Record’s medical corpus. Anyone trying to access it would need to be a fully vetted member of a medical group held in good standing with O.P.R.”

The Officiators of the Public Record, the people who made it their holy mission to uphold a free-flow of information throughout the world. They were why anyone, no matter how disconnected from society, could walk into any random city, village, or town willing to let them use a sorc-deck and go from knowing nothing about entities to being fully capable of summoning and binding one from a number of Courts. Supposedly in the spirit of how the first poster released the Herald’s End grimoire on an Old Net forum revealing summoning’s existence.

From there it was just O.P.R. fighting the good fight in making sure collectives and cults—even the universities who were never that innocent, in the New World or the Old—could monopolize too much information. They were even headed by a Godtender that defended them and just sat in the NewNet to prevent anyone from destroying or defacing the information inside. Though going by Dad, godtenders weren’t infallible or always honest.

“They may just be people, but they’re why we were able to treat your mutant friend. In fact, if your information is there, any hospital capable of tithing to O.P.R.—and even a few who can’t—will be able to bring up your history and immediately treat you.”

“That’s a plus side,” I said.

“Never know where your duties as a Lodgemember might send you.”

“And if I don’t sign?”

They swiped the sorc-deck bringing up a different document. “Then you pay in tokens.”

“Three royal tokens,” I said, eyes bulging. “Was I that fucked up?”

“No and yes. No, because full body organ failure over an hour long period is rather trivial to repair with the right Courts on hand. The real issue was that you required a team of at least three Viscounts to treat you.”

“Viscounts,” I said, the word soft and unreal as a bubble on my tongue.

“We were forced to activate more than a few of our auxiliary formations to keep about thirty patients in three layers of medical stasis. That takes a lot of power.”

“So I pay in information or pay in energy.”

“Think of it as paying for the wounded soul that comes after you,” they said. “Whether it’s sorcerous technology or simple information, it takes a lot to save a life. Though if you aren’t the charitable sort maybe you’ll find a surprise. More than a few genealogical groups have access to the same information. Maybe you’ll find an aunt you don’t know about.”

Or a mother that didn’t know my dad was dead and his entity—the mom who raised me—kicked out of reality. Even the idea of finding an aunt would be amazing. Though if Dad was City Killer, the only City Killer, then it’d be more likely I’d get connected with some distant cousin. Did his side of the family know what he was? That was what moved me to sign the release form. All my information up on the NewNet, restricted or otherwise, for anyone to find. I hoped someone would find me.

“Have a good day then, Nadia,” the secretary said. “If you plan on undertaking any more dangerous actions do let me know, so I can have a proper team and bet in place.”

“Of course.”

Their need for professionalism packed away, the secretary scurried from the room in pursuit of whatever decadent meal was waiting in the cafeteria going by the scent. Amber, Melissa, and Ina entered the room.

“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Ina declared. Her voice a murder weapon dripping in sarcasm.

I said, “Just surprised. What’d they replace your arm with?”

“Brilliance and Cultivation largely,” she said. “Though Mel helped connect it all with Mutation.”

“Mel?” I asked.

Melissa nudged Ina—playfully—before gracing me one of her spirit soothing smiles.

“I was the first to be fixed up—”

Amber interjected, “Technically, I was the first.”

“You had nothing that needed to be fixed,” Melissa said.

“Love it when you compliment me, princess.”

Ina side-eyed Amber like she was some temerous party crasher for the banter. Which, by how her eyes sparked to life just saying Melissa’s nickname—a life I would’ve otherwise guessed Ina was born without, Amber was. On her part, Amber ignored the glare and settled into a chair by the window letting the light play across her melanin until she took on a bright radiance that complimented the summer-y raspberry of her locs.

Melissa said, “Anyways, after I was cleared I saw Ina moping because prosthetics aren’t really something Suppression can make on its own.”

Ina added, “And Suppression unfortunately is pretty common, so we don’t get rarity incentives on our phonemes when valuing our tokens.”

“So, I decided to help her out. She was the one with the actual plans.”

“Melissa had the know-how to make a rather foolish dream possible.”

“Afterwards, we just grabbed a few doctors and…”

“Banged it out,” Ina finished.

Ina held up their new arm like a trophy. It was a faded gold-leaf yellow on the outer arm with a more faded tan-yellow for the inner. Entire thing spotted with lapis rings. Tiny suckers marked out the sections of her hand. It was a tentacle mimicking the shape of a human hand. She curled her fingers backwards one by one into tight rolls with glee before unfurling them to close into a proper fist. A human hand with none of the downsides.

“The damn thing even produces Underink,” she said. “No more paper costs.”

Flourished in the air with her finger tracing a quick formation in the air. With an unseen twist of her spirit the formation hardened as a thin slice of air—the troposphere—became a talisman. She tossed it like mom would knives at the knife throwing booths during festivals. It sunk into the window before Suppressing some hidden aspect of itself before opening.

“That’s great,” I said, the words needing to be dredged up from within me. Hopeful that Melissa knew I meant the arm—it was legitimately a great piece of work—and less the hint of an idea that her and Ina of all people banged it out.

The sound of an active Brightgate stumbled over itself in a muddled discordance to enter the room. Riding the noise like a wave, however, was an elegant song being sung. Though it was voiced with Real words I could still hear its echoes in my spirit. From black bolts Tomorrow is sewn, and Freedom known as we once knew.

Sphinx stirred in my lap as she also recalled the song. Though hers was a more frantic twitching that paired with fear rather than the tune’s emboldening themes. In fairness we had encountered the song from different perspectives and contexts.

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I gently scratched her scalp stilling her twitching leg. Her eyes fluttered in worry until they opened to find my smile—and ideally concealed sorrow—ready to greet her. Her mouth stretched open in a yawn.

“What happened to ‘entities don’t sleep’?” I asked.

Sphinx’s smile curled playfully. “We don’t. I was in dormancy.”

I looked to my friends—and Ina—for an answer. Amber smirked around the information. Then pulled a bottle of some amber-hued whiskey from her storage-spell alongside a stunning crystal tumbler that bounced the light up into the drink. The whole thing visually aflame as Amber took a sip. Then glanced to Ina pitifully.

“Hmm, would’ve thought you’d know what with being the ‘diva of the Goetic Enclave.’”

Mentally I clenched my fist in a victory that wasn’t mine but one I’d claim. Ina stewed in annoyance at Amber while Melissa only rolled her eyes unaware that she was the territory dispute between the two of them.

“There, you’ve made fun of someone. Can we get an answer?” Melissa asked.

“If the price has been paid—sorry it was you, Ina—then I will.” Amber assumed her professorially affectation—I hadn’t heard it since I’d chased after the lindwurm.

“Dormancy, or the thanatonic sleep as some know it by, is the state in which entities attempt to preserve their hold within Realspace by ceasing function of any ego dominant actions or sorcerous operations,” Amber shifted back into her avuncular rhythm. “Say it simple, reality was trying to kick Sphinx out, so she shut down to stay beside you.”

“I didn’t die though,” I said. “Alls below, I got stronger.”

“What,” Ina said.

I framed the news with a grin. “I’m a Baron now according to my chart.”

“Pseudo,” Ina said. “Until you have that sphinx’s upChain form in your lap you’re not a true Baron. Alls below, I’m sorry you have to deal with this, Mel.”

“Deal with,” I said aghast. “I saved your life. Everyone’s life. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have that arm.”

“Wow, you want me to thank you for severing my arm. That’s your stance?” she asked.

Melissa hissed sharp and low. Her hair stiffening in a sudden threat display.

“We’re not doing this,” she said. “You promised you’d be good.”

“Sorry,” Ina said.

“And Nadia, I still love the confidence, but you did die. I clung to the side of the hospital just to watch them do their best to keep you alive after both soldiers and Barons couldn’t save you. They used three layers of stasis just to give Amber enough time to literally abduct some Viscounts who had the necessary specialties.”

My eyes sweeped to Amber for confirmation. She wobbled her hand noncommittally.

“It wasn’t a full death technically.”

“Her heart and brain stopped working,” Melissa asserted.

“But her spirit didn’t. Only two out of three, not a full death,” Amber said. “Means in my book, your record is still pristine.”

“Reality,” Sphinx said, “plays by different rules. Two out of three is enough to begin my eviction.”

“It was that bad?” I asked.

“Giving me a new arm only took a few soldiers,” Ina said.

“Why’d I need Viscounts though?” I asked.

“The Inviolate Star,” Sphinx answered.

Melissa said, “The doctors said you were too hot to touch.”

“Singed their spirits and melted spells when they tried,” Amber added. “If there were any Barons that could’ve still worked through all that then we didn’t find them. I figured someone up the Chain could get around that innate resistance you built, and I was right.”

Amber sipped her sunlit drink in an attempt to guzzle sunshine and the cheer that came with it.

“Glad I was,” she said softly.

“If this happens every time you use the spell that way then you have to stop,” Melissa said.

“Stop,” I said, incredulous at the directive.

“Temple, your spirit wasn’t dead but it was nearly a husk. A smoldering furnace-hot husk, but a husk. The fact that whatever it’s doing is fixing up your spirit to drive it even higher is impressive and terrifying. I haven’t seen anything like it.”

The gravity of Amber’s statement was lost on me in the moment. They wanted me to swear off of my own spell. One of my best spells. All because of their worries.

“Sure, and you’ve seen everything. Totally can’t be the fact that you get off on being the most secretive and cutting edge and knowledgeable person in the room. Are you afraid I’ll outpace you at this rate, or something? Toss you aside when you can’t keep up.”

“Alls below, what if you use it and there’s no Viscounts conveniently around, Nadia? I can’t help you, Amber can’t move you, you’d be done. Dead.”

“Why are you talking like you’ll be with me the whole way to even care? You’re dipping after the exam ends anyways. That’s what you told your mom anyways. Besides, what happened to not making decisions for each other? That we ‘didn’t have that kind of relationship’ anymore.”

Melissa backed away from the accusation, and inadvertent reversion of how far we’d come…toward whatever had been our destination before I spoke.

“It wasn’t the maiden’s idea nor the mummer’s,” Sphinx said.

“Then whose was it?” I asked. “Ina? Toby?”

“Mine,” she said.

In one word she’d skewered me. I looked to Amber and Melissa who’d faced the heat of my own petulant rage at having any of my power—my tools to avenge my parents—be stripped from me. Amber had only sad smiles for me. Melissa was tearing up which caused my star to fall even further in Ina’s esteem.

“You introduced me to it,” I said.

“An action I don’t regret insofar as it saved your life the first time.”

“You’ve done this before?” Melissa asked.

Amber had already put together a timeline in her mind from the way her brow rose and fell with the rapid calculation. I still only had eyes for Sphinx.

“It’s the only way I can get in touch with Mom,” I said.

“Nadia—” Sphinx started.

“What’s this have to do with your mom?” Melissa asked.

“My glaive,” I said, pointing it out where it rested in a corner—the bond between me and it, me and my mom, firmed up enough that even with my eyes closed I could’ve still pointed in its direction. “It’s the last piece of her I have, and when I use the star I can feel her again. Make strong all of those techniques she taught me.”

“Temple, I know you’re an idiot but conceptual weapons are made by entities or miracles of the Underside. Not provincial mothers to a no-name town.”

“All true,” Amber said, “but you made an assumption there Ina.”

“What?” she asked.

I cackled, “My mom was anything but provincial. She was a Sovereign. She was Ishisaga-no-Maturama.”

In my heated defense of my mother’s name I’d flexed my spirit as I stressed each syllable. Turned it from just a name into something in-between an incantation and a divine petition that paired power to soundwaves. Amber’s glass shattered. Ina’s ears bled as her eyes were dyed a foamy pink from broken capillaries. Melissa dropped to her knees with a wail of pain that iced my ego and introduced guilt into every cell that composed my body.

Everything else in the room untouched by us—unfilled chairs, the end table, even some of my monitors—were yanked up into the air. Flipping into a perfect mirror of their previous position. It was a complete Upheaval of the decor and the mood. Even the song from outside was silent.

Melissa whispered, “When did you find out?”

“What?”

Ina helped her to her feet. “When did you learn your mom was a Sovereign, a god?” she asked.

“Temple, you didn’t tell her?”

Melissa snapped, “You knew. You knew and you didn’t tell me either! How long?”

“Since I brought Sphinx home,” I said.

Melissa roared—literally she roared into my face like the pissed off lioness she was.

I stammered out excuses. “We’d just called off the engagement.”

“You were engaged?” Ina asked.

“And then we went weeks without talking. By then I’d forgotten about it—”

“You remembered well enough to assault Ina with your mom’s name,” she said.

“If it helps, I only learned that one on the train when Every Train and Sphinx told me…”

“The name?” she asked.

“And not to say it casually,” I admitted.

Melissa nodded. Clapped her hands together, and walked out without a word. Ina followed after her with all the gleefulness of a dog that didn’t know why she was getting a walk but was just happy to have one. She did, however, stop at the door to spare me a few more words.

“Know what, I hope you enjoy that glaive of yours. I mean, if it really is Sovereign made then you have excalibur right there. Gaebolg. The kind of weapon that could raise a nation or kill a Godtender if you were able to get in tune with it and bring out all that power,” she said. “Me, I never really needed power. Only love. Which is pretty spare back in the collective. They’ll cherish me cause I’m a diva, one of the best of the best they have, but they won’t love me. If I was struck by a rock and made dumb as you they’d politely kick me out. Whether I was or wasn’t a fifth-generation member. But Mel, that girl right there has so much heart she could love anyone. She loved you.”

“Your point?” I muttered wishing I could get across the room fast enough to decapitate her.

Ina smiled and said, “Thanks, I suppose. For making your priorities clear and tossing her aside so one of us other loveless assholes can treat her right.”

When Ina left, Amber sat with me for a few more minutes in silence. She stared at the remains of her spilled drink and shattered glass.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Amber said, “That was Venetian glass.”

“Is that expensive?” I asked.

“Hmm, not necessarily. Just rare. Not like Venice exists anymore, so the fact it was Venetian glass from Venice gave it a certain value. I hadn’t paid anything for it to be honest. Know the lesson in all that?”

“No.”

“Shame, was hoping for someone besides me to give me a bit of wisdom right about now. My siblings have the rest of the set—if they weren’t dumb enough to lose or break theirs.”

The way Amber spoke was heavy with age. She avoided looking at me, but couldn’t resist glancing back to the shards of the thing she hadn’t realized how much she cherished until just now. I couldn’t stop glancing at the door wishing Melissa would come back if only to hit me.

“Relationships are stronger than glass, Temple.”

“Are they?”

Amber laid a hand against me. Squeezed my arm tight like someone packing one more pair of panties into an overfilled suitcase. I turned to find her haloed by the sun. Features shadowed, but smile bright with promise. With her other hand she drew my head close until our foreheads touched in a primal communion.

Then she let go. Walked around my bed, and gave one last glance at the glaive.

“Temple, you said you were using her techniques with this thing?” she asked.

“Each one was one she’d taught me. Encircle the Moon, Bisect the Sun, and Blind the Heavens.”

There was no weight behind the names, but I felt throbbing within myself—the bond between me and the glaive? Amber turned back to the glaive. A quiet overtaking her again.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Amber raised a hasty smile. “Nothing, nothing. Just, during the Changeover there were a few summoners of Upheaval that ran around. I’d heard a lot of incantations in those days. None of them like that.”

“Okay,” I said, “it’s not like entities teach us every spell of their Court.”

“True. True. And as we established, I don’t know everything. I’d make less mistakes if I did.” Amber added, “What I do know is whether those are Upheaval spells or otherwise, conceptual weapons don’t let you use another Court’s sorcery. Bluntly, they’re just a physical metaphor you beat someone to death with.”

“Interesting,” I said as I felt then that the bed was made of sand, and I was sinking into it.

Amber made for the door. With one leg past the threshold and one still in the room—with me—I pushed myself to say something. To still hold onto her.

“Amber,” I said. On cue she stopped, half-in half-out.

“Hmm?”

“What I said, I…I was just mad. Scared,” I admitted. “I’d never toss you aside.”

And Amber said, “I know, Temple. You’re not that kind of person.”

“I’m not.”

She smiled, and peered just beyond the door before turning back to me. “I’ll go keep an eye on Melissa. Knowing her, she's just hungry and grumpy. She’ll come back.”

“She’ll come back,” I repeated.

And then Amber also left. I looked down to Sphinx in my lap—she’d waited patiently for my attention…so I had perfect notice of her walking inside of me to recuperate in my spirit. Leaving me alone with the Sovereign-made glaive that could raise a nation and leave a girl isolated.