1.01 - M

“Oh, but the breeze is just divine, isn’t it? By the Gods, if there’s one thing the Children know how to do properly is tend to nature – just smell the air, c’mon. Ah… sublime.”

Lissandra walked down the street with the gait of a curious ambassador exploring a new kingdom. The Lamia had changed her tail into a pair of legs, some manner of spell Malina wasn’t privy to – or knew where she could possibly use – and now the Dark Muse was traversing through town like a storm as the night grew deeper.

Malina struggled to keep up with the pace, the long legs chosen by Lissandra making her have to take two steps for every one she took, and her excitement to learn what the Muse had promised was making her hop like a rabbit and constantly risk tripping as she tangled her own legs. Still, the girl wore a grin wide enough to rival Nintrakilous’s own – though it was beginning to look a bit strained by the time they left the upper, richer area of Pleariss.

When Lissandra pointed at the third new food stall in the commercial district, eyes shining as she bought a skewer made of some unknown meat, Malina couldn’t help but ask.

“You are going to teach me, right?”

The Lamia took a big bite out of a piece of braised meat, her longer fangs shining with the city lights, and waved a hand to dismiss Malina’s concerns.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just… it's been so long since I’ve been out to town. I swear, I think we spend more time cooped up in that house than actually living. And everything looks so different than I remember – wait…”

Her orange eyes seemed to focus on something far in front of them, a quaint little building set up in the corner between two streets and enjoying an oddly privileged space in the busy streets of Pleariss’s central commerce. Malina struggled for a second to read the painted words above the door.

“The Loving Dough.”

Lissandra squealed in genuine excitement, forgetting about her meat skewer entirely.

“Mother above, I can’t believe that still exists!”

“A… bakery?”

Malina asked tentatively, and Lissandra shot her such an offended look the girl almost took a step back. The Muse pointed a finger at the dimly-lit establishment.

“Not just any bakery. They have the best pastries in Pleariss – don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them.”

“I… can’t say I have.”

“Ugh. Younglings nowadays. C’mon – I’ll show you something you just can’t forget. I swear, not even in Weningrad did I find more delicious strawberry scones. And so mundane too!”

Malina felt herself being pulled by the Lamia, having to invoke all her balance not to fall as the woman walked without stopping towards the bakery. Her soft protests were met with no response, until the Muse stopped abruptly right in front of the door, frozen in place. In the shadow beneath her feet, Malina could hear Nin sigh.

Lissandra read the little plaque like an execution order.

“Closed? But – they are still inside.”

And indeed, Malina could see the workers closing shop – organizing tables and chairs, cleaning the counters, checking their revenue… The girl gave a forlorn look at the downcrest Muse.

“I think it’s over for the day. We can come back tomorrow if you want to.”

“Tomorrow? But I want a strawberry scone.”

“And they’ll have it, see?”

Malina pointed at the counter inside the store, where the desired pastry was being removed and placed into a box of some sorts, the runes inscribed on it gleaming as it closed. A preservation enchantment perhaps?

Lissandra’s eyes shone, and Malina patted the Muse on the arm.

“So… how about we leave and you teach me that spell you were talking – what are you doing?”

A soft, but insistent knocking sounded down the street as Lissandra tried to call for the workers, her once sad face having shifted into a dazzling smile – bright enough that, when coupled with her already extraordinary beauty, made the Dark Muse reflect all the allure of her title.

Still, Malina saw a couple of the workers sighing at the scene, and the female clerk counting the money seemed to say something to one of her male colleagues, who quickly scampered towards the door when he saw Lissandra. He passed a hand through his hair as if trying to comb the blonde mess atop his head, and Malina gave up trying to pull the Muse’s arm back.

The poor worker actually froze after opening the door, jaw slacking and blushing so hard Malina wondered if he had any blood left on his limbs. The young man gulped, loud enough for the street to hear, and spoke with a cracking voice.

“Uh, what can I do for you, Miss?”

Lissandra’s smile hid her slitted eyes as she pointed at something behind the clerk.

“I want a pastry.”

He blinked at her, a little confused, then checked the small plaque at the door to see if it was positioned correctly. Malina sighed.

“Um, sorry, Miss – but we are already closed for the day. You… could come back tomorrow morning. We pride ourselves in making warm bread before the sun can warm you.”

He puffed his chest at what seemed like some manner of slogan of the bakery, and Malina found the moment to interject.

“See? Now let’s go, c’mon. We have to solve that… little problem, remember?”

Lissandra pulled her arm from Malina’s grip, her smile unaffected despite the denial. Once more, she spoke to the clerk.

“But I can pay. Won’t you sell me one of the scones? Maybe a parfait, even.”

“Yeah… um, I don’t think that’s possible.”

He scratched his neck at the insistence, oddly disconcerted. When he had seen the beautiful woman this wasn’t what he expected.

Lissandra’s smile waned for a second, turning into a confused pout.

“You would deny me what I want?”

She asked, almost softly, kindly – and the poor clerk once again looked at her as if she was mad. So did Malina, for this was a facet of the Dark Muse that – despite all the years of them leaving together – she had only heard about, but never seen. The only one who knew what to expect was Nintrakilous, who had been with the Coven for longer, and his only response was a pained whisper.

“Oh no.”

The server boy nodded, hesitantly, but too scared for his own job and his boss to actually indulge Lissandra. It was a mistake.

The Dark Muse, a Siren if you really knew the roles each member of a Coven had, frowned. Slightly – a faint appearance of wrinkles right between her eyes. Then she blinked, and her pupils melted into spinning spirals, making the orange irises rotate and swallow the world with the slow pattern of their movement.

“Then heed my Whisper: Tonight you shall work until you exhaust yourselves. Your smiles will be large and your joy true for as long as the moons reign above. And you will give me what I desire.”

Malina’s eyes widened at the display of Sorcery, her mouth opening to stop Lissandra when the clerk blinked, then nodded in absolute silence – his mouth stretched to its painful utmost as he gave a bad, nightmarish impression of what a smile was. He stepped aside for them to enter, and Lissandra did so with a brisk step, her frown already gone and replaced with anticipation for the food – which only grew more when another clerk took her to a quickly set up table and proved ready to take in her request, the same horrific smile on their face.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Then, the younger witch’s words disappeared from her throat and she understood. Lissandra had charmed the entire bakery. All of the staff was suddenly working with diligence compared to the start of the day, tables being resettled and the kitchen already a hubbub of conversation as bakers reignited ovens and prepared doughs without a care, the muscles on their faces stretched until painful.

As if they had no home to go to tonight. As if they were not tired after a day of work. As if they were happy to serve.

The young woman didn’t feel herself entering the establishment, her legs moving on reflex after the older Muse. Weakness. Behind her, the plaque on the door was turned around, and the sound of it hitting the glass door was one of the loudests Malina had ever heard.

Open would the bakery be until the first ray of dawn appeared on the horizon.

So was desired. So it would be.

***

There was something about being surrounded by mind-controlled folk that sent shivers down Malina’s spine. It wasn’t the arching smile on their faces, stuck in place even as the effort to maintain it made drool fall from their lips or their cheeks spasm – oh, that was terrifying, don’t get her wrong, but it was more than that.

It was the realization that this was possible at all that scared her. She had been raised with the stories of Sorcerers and, yes, Dark Muses – Malina knew they were imbued with powers so great they were almost demigods when compared to mere mortals. But she had never really seen Sorcery.

Only caught snippets of it. Clandestine glimpses at what was beyond the veil – short looks into what she was fated to become. Still, seeing Kassia summon a sword out of thin air was very, very different than watching Lissandra dominate an entire building with only her voice.

And the casual cruelty of it all? Malina watched as the server brought up a plated strawberry scone and a glass of cold orange juice, his expression joyful even as his face cramped, and shivered.

Lissandra took one big bite of the pastry and gave a low moan at the sweet taste of perfectly-made jam.

“Ah, Gods. Perfection. Are you sure you don’t want something, Mal? I know you don’t like sweets that much, but I believe their lemon tarts are quite famous as well.”

Malina’s eyes still lingered on the server, her attention only brought back when Lissandra called, and the simple idea of eating right now left her feeling nauseous.

“I’ll pass. Sorry.”

The Siren shrugged, taking another bite out of the sweet. She took a delicate sip out of the orange juice and placed the cup back, her nails suddenly drumming on the table. Malina focused back once again – and this time the older woman had her attention fully on the girl, who averted her eyes away from those orange depths in a fearful reflex.

“You are afraid.”

A simple statement. Casual enough that if Malina wasn’t actively trying to stop her heart from beating so fast, she would have laughed. The young woman swallowed.

“I… am. Was it really necessary to do all this?”

Malina knew better than to lie. She could deceive a few of the others in the Coven, but Lissandra? The woman read people like one did magazines. And right now, Malina was an open book.

The Siren hummed, still drumming her fingers on the table.

“Necessary? No. I could have waited until dawn. I could have also exploded their brains for the audacity of denying me something. All would be appropriate responses to our kind – and no doubt, if we hadn’t gone so close to extinction, many would have answered differently. But I did what I thought was right and fair. There was a slight, there was what I wanted, and they could not stop me. So I win.”

Simple as that. Malina struggled to find a retort, her mind running through what felt like molasses. Fear was making her slow – and so was the truth behind the curtain.

“But – They are still people, Lissandra. We can’t just barge in their lives and do whatever we want… Can we?”

Malina wasn’t certain. Was that what being a Dark Muse was? No one had ever explained it to her and it showed. So clear was it that even Lissandra hesitated for a second, and sighed sadly.

“I do miss the Castle sometimes. If you had grown up there… no, nevermind that. I don’t deny these people their rights to exist – but I know my place, Malina. I’m not a mortal like them. So I can bring them consequences for their ignorance, and be kind when doing that.”

Kind? Malina watched the clerks moving between tables, cleaning the bakery until it was spotless and then more, all with that smile on their faces – and she couldn’t see it.

So she stayed quiet, head low as Lissandra gave her a sad look, but not regretful – and did not react when Nin spoke from his hiding place.

“Then what about the attention, Mistress? It surely can’t be good to have customers notice how… peculiarly the staff is behaving.”

A demon trying to be thoughtful. Malina saw how strained Nin’s grin was on her shadow, and raised her face to hear the answer – but Lissandra’s expression was once again indifferent.

“No one will notice, Nintrakilous. Look at that if you don’t believe me.”

She pointed at the entrance behind Malina, and the girl watched as a couple entered. Two Cheshires, a man and a woman. their tails swinging behind them and their cat-like ears alert on top of their heads – and still, the moment they passed the threshold their chatter died down and they gave one long blink, before their lips stretched wide.

And with Cheshires, it was a large enough grin that it almost reached their ears, the entire species having a flexibility to their smiles that made them uncanny – but that was perfect to display their sharp teeth.

Malina took a deep breath, trying not to show in her face how the grip on her heart had tightened at the display of further power. Meanwhile, the Siren finished her drink and pastry, patting her mouth with a napkin like a poised lady.

“See?”

Neither the demon or the witch had a response.

“Now, let’s focus on the true task at hand. You have made an undead through the most crude of methods, simply filling its remains with magic. How much energy exactly did you put into it?”

The young woman’s mouth was still dry as she answered, words rising from her throat and leaving gashes behind.

“All – um, all I had? From my Core and the Crystal Ball.”

Malina pulled the orb from her Bag of Holding, an opaque sphere that could store about three times the capacity of her Core. It was overkill in all the ways that mattered, yes, but one really shouldn’t maintain their magic unused for so long – so the Coven taught her the only trick she knew before delving into magic by herself: how to circulate mana.

It eased the cramps she’d feel if the magic grew stale. Lissandra nodded.

“Alright. That’s… a lot – especially for such a tiny vessel. I’m amazed the mouse didn’t just explode with how much power you were placing into it. You got lucky.”

The girl’s eyes widened in alarm.

“That can happen?”

“Of course! There’s a limit to how much a material can absorb magic before it goes wild and blows up. Gods, now I wish we had a corpse so you could show me how you did it. Maybe it was a clear Will?”

Lissandra muttered to herself, and Malina shivered at what the Siren said.

“Please, please don’t kill anyone just so I can bring them back.”

“Hm? Oh, no need to concern yourself with that–”

The girl heaved a sigh of relief as Lissandra waved her concerns away.

“--I was actually thinking of graverobbing instead of murder.”

“Not that either.”

Malina half-shrieked, half-whispered, eliciting a sigh from the Siren.

“Alright then. Let’s think about that later. Considering how much magic you filled it with, the little mouse won’t start to feel hungry until it can digest all that – which means, it has yet to actively hunt for other animals… or people. However, considering it wanted revenge, then it could very well be after its killer right about now.”

“You mean…”

“The cat, yes. That will come in handy later on. Nevertheless, here’s what I think we should do. [Illusional Tale].”

The table in front of them began to glow with Lissandra’s spell, taking Malina by surprise. On its surface, the wood seemed to ripple like water before quickly settling back to its seemingly-solid state. The spell was still there, she knew that, but it waited for instructions.

“Our main objective here is to locate and capture the mouse. As long as we can do both without garnering attention from any of the other powers in town, or at least before it commits too many unspeakable deeds, we win. To do that, I will teach you two different rituals. Not spells, but proper witchcraft.”

There was an abyss of difference between the two. Malina knew that. Rituals were from the realms of witches – they were time-consuming, sometimes expensive, but largely advantageous due to their malleability.

A spell operated under different rules. They needed gestures, incantations and even a real understanding of things like arcane schematics and other things Malina was not privy to. Lissandra’s [Illusional Tale] was one such, invoked through well-practiced spellspeech and shortened moves.

“You said you’d teach me a necromantic ritual. What’s the other one?”

“Divination. So that you can find where your little friend is scurrying about.”

Lissandra’s smile was soft – which did not reflect what Malina was feeling as she heard those words. She was gonna learn real magic. Not fake rituals or arcane theory – but real, meaningful ways to change the world.

Were her hands shaking? The girl looked at her lap and even tightly closed her hands were trembling with excitement. Her heart was beating fast, too fast, and her anxiety was keeping all the sleepiness she should be feeling at bay. She managed to put out a few words, though her voice cracked oddly through it.

“How do – ahem, how do we begin?”

Lissandra’s smile widened at that, and the woman gestured to the table, the surface once again rippling to reveal surging illusions from the wood. Malina watched the show with a slack jaw, and the Siren gave her a teasing wink as she spoke.

“With the basics, of course.”