Staring directly into the smug thief’s eyes, Rachel waited for his response while admiring her outfit’s handiwork—he barely fidgeted beneath the Living Denier’s woven coils.
Not bad, Captain Hops, she internally praised, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. Creative use of your unique talents. Think they’ll hold?
A flicker of amusement colored Nia’s mental reply. “I’m not totally confident. If he really struggles, the bonds might fray—it’s tied to our Defense stat, which isn’t the highest. Honestly, I’m surprised it’s holding this long considering he’s mostly muscle buried under fat.”
The man’s calm demeanor caused her ears to tilt to the left, listening intently to his heartbeat and every muscle twitch. His hollow eyes reflected a soul that was beyond fear. In the ensuing silence, she heard the clash of El Santo and Grace upstairs, Green and her party zeroing in on Ali Baba’s home. Yet, her focus was primarily centered on the thief’s cold stare, achieving something few did when looking into her eclipse eyes.
“…I see,” she whispered, a soft sigh puffing out of her lungs while searching his expression. “You want me to torture you…because you don’t feel a thing. Do you? You’re not like the others in this fabricated world as a member of the Forty Thieves. Are you?”
He sat back, muscles loose and laughter shaking his bulky frame; it didn’t touch his lifeless eyes. “I don’t care if it hurts, creature of reality… You will never understand. I’ll pay my weight in blood to feel my nerves wake up. Make me feel human.”
Nia’s brow furrowed, placing a hand on her hip as the tights coiled tighter. “He’s one of those masochists. Like those anime boys that Scarlet watches?”
Rachel’s head hung at the topic. We really need to lay down some ground rules for what your younger side sees. How is she even getting time to see these without me knowing? No, let’s try to stay focused.
“I was. I’m just trying to find a base here. Living Denier, remember?”
Letting the man’s statement sink in, she refocused and looked him in the eyes again. “So, Ali Baba took away your ability to feel unless you serve his ends…or is that something all people have in Fable realms?”
Green’s melancholy voice responded from a distance, showing she was paying close attention to their activities, as well. “All Fable entities have a severely diminished sense of feeling that can resonate with beings from reality. It’s why they tend to trust us more. It can be rather…predatory if you’re not careful. It’s not something they realize until they come into contact with us or understand they’re not real.”
“Spooky,” Nia internally mumbled, watching the thief watch them with his same smug smile. “It’s kind of creepy. What’s his deal?”
Their attention returned to the man as he said, “This changes nothing. All you’ve done is hasten the inevitable. Did I not tell you? I’ve been expecting you. Our glorious leader wishes to strike a deal. We have mutual enemies.”
Rachel tilted her head with her ears, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. “Blowing up someone’s family is a funny way of asking to be friends?”
He didn’t blink, yet his smile fell slightly. “Who told you we were the ones who planted that bomb?”
“Was it not?” she asked with a fake smile, fingers twitching at the misdirect as she reached out to grab him by the throat and press him against the stone wall. “I’m losing my patience, thief. Was it you, or was it not?”
His shrug made her fingers constrict slightly, not that it made the man flinch. Yet, his hoarse response gave her pause. “Fool. You think your strength means anything there? Accept the Vizier’s offer. If you do not accept it here, then you will never discover the truth. We will be made real. She has foreseen it. Your fate is sealed.”
“She?”
Grip loosening and rising slowly, Rachel followed his gaze to an ornate mirror beside the table of goods; the geometric patterns carved into its frame that shifted around each other were almost hypnotic. Her lips lifted slightly as she connected the dots.
Nia, did we steal any protective magical items from him?
“Two, but everything he has is single use, so far as I can tell.”
More than enough. Make sure to clean up the others real fast and be ready to activate one.
Straightening, she left the thief by Nia and went to stand in front of the reflective surface. “Unless I accept it here, hmm? She has foreseen my fate? You know…I’m not a very big believer in fate. I didn’t know we had an audience.”
Her reflection rippled as if submerged in water. A smirk crept across her lips, not her own, as she approached, her gloved fingers brushing the gilded edge. “Care to introduce yourself?”
The glass shimmered before shifting entirely, revealing not Abu Hassan, but a woman of breathtaking beauty. Her bronze skin gleamed like polished metal, adorned with cascading silk robes embroidered with crimson and gold. Reclined elegantly on a lavish seat, her legs crossed, the woman regarded her with a smile that didn’t reach her piercing brown eyes.
“No words?” Rachel showed a mocking smirk she knew would elicit a reaction, given her cadence. “What’s this? Abu’s favorite slave girl? His play thing when bored?”
The woman’s laugh was soft, like a serpent’s hiss. “Sharp words for a princess but I will forgive it. Vizier Abu Hassan is far too important making plans with my father to concern himself with…brutish women like you. I’d hoped to find something he found enticing about you. Alas, I am left…wanting. Reality is wasted on the likes of you.”
“Meow,” Nia snorted. “Someone’s jealous.”
The woman’s gaze burned with fervor as she leaned forward. “Oh, without a doubt, young bunny thing. When the time comes, the Vizier will bring us all into reality. You living creatures take your existence for granted. Even in death, you linger. Soon, very soon, we will be free of this mirage.”
Rachel’s sharp gaze flicked to the table as a ruby light illuminated underneath it, embedded in the underside. The crimson light became blinding, making her tail twitch.
What a snake-ass bitch. Nia?
“No problem.”
Rachel’s fingers flexed instinctively as she turned back to the mirror. “Nice speech,” she yawned, her tone flat as she held up her hand to wiggle her fingers, where the defensive ring materialized and activated on Nia’s command. “Shame you’ll have to cut it short. See you soon, Princess.”
A faint hum accompanying its activation. Nia dissipated into twinkling sparks as the rubies unleashed a torrent of flames. The inferno roared to life, devouring the room and thieves in searing heat.
When the flames subsided, the scent of roasted flesh twisted her nose, Nia materializing beside her with pursed lips upon seeing the blackened thief, now a smoldering pile of flesh. Not soon after, his body began to vanish as if it had never been there. The sight brought a certain question to Rachel’s active brain. Nia was concerned about another tragedy, though.
Kneeling beside the charred corpse, she snarled, “My thigh highs! That bitch destroyed some of my favorite pairs… I knew I should have used the checkered ones.”
Ignoring her complaints, Rachel reflected on the outcome. If they’re not real…how can Thalia and her sisters send their souls to Hades? Well, I suppose I can ask and find out. Now…
She turned her sight to the once-lavish chamber, reduced to molten slag. The mirror lay shattered, its surface warped and blackened. Ash hung in the air, clinging to her desert robe as she dusted herself off, scanning the destruction.
I’m not here to play games or figure out the deeper secrets of this place. Abu Hassan is with the princess and sultan in their palace? Then I know where I need to go next. But…
“Rachel?” Green said, slightly concerned by her tone of voice.
“I’m fine. Our next destination is the palace. Let’s go, Nia.”
“Wait!” Green sounded exhausted as Red reflected her desire to jump straight to the palace. “ We’ve found Ali Baba’s house. This is important. Can you please join us? I promise, it will be worth it. We need to know what we’re up against because Abu Hassan is on the same level as your Legend Quests.”
Scratching the back of her neck while navigating out of the hazy zone and trying to keep herself from coughing from all the smoke, she said, “I think you’d be shocked what I can handle…but I’ll trust you. We’re on our way.”
The air was thick with the smoke rising out of the secret hallway and the scent of scorched metal as she emerged from the hazy aftermath of the fight. Nia trailed silently behind her, a faint scowl on her usually cheerful face. The soot clung to their clothes, curling upward into the sky like tendrils of something alive.
Grace sat on Jim’s saddle, both legs crossed on the left side of her horse, the unconscious and exhausted bandit wrapped up in a neat bow with her lasso nearby. El Santo stood nearby, enjoying a tall glass of milk with the cowgirl that they’d taken from the nearby bar.
The brunette tilted her hat with a curious grin. “Well, if it ain’t the big boss herself, lookin’ like she walked outta the pits o’ hellfire! What happened in there, darlin’? Got caught in a little love spat with the locals? Or were you just too hot to handle?”
She motioned dramatically to her lassoed prisoner with a mock pout. “Meanwhile, I’ve got this one gift-wrapped for ya. Seein’ as you were busy playin’ with fire, figured I’d keep the milk churnin’ over here. You’re welcome.”
Rachel didn’t rise to the bait, Nia naturally repelling the soot off her. “Grace, I know you’re trying to keep things positive, but your jokes are as fresh as a week-old milk carton.”
El Santo chuckled, stepping forward with his booming laugh, a glass of milk raised in a mock toast that they’d pilfered from the nearby bar. “Ah, Señorita Grace, don’t listen to the sour hare; your wit is sharper than any blade these bandits carry. It is good to keep the spirits light in such times, though one wonders if all your inspiration stems from cows.”
Grace gave a mock gasp, clutching her chest. “Now hold on there, Santo, I reckon you’re tippin’ your hat at somethin’ mighty personal. You callin’ me a cow? What kind of image are you tryin’ to paint of a young lady? And not a single blade cut you, so how sharp could they be, hmm?” she asked with a pointed smirk.
El Santo shook his head, his grin wide as he sipped his drink. “Perish the thought, Señorita! You personify her beauty. A cow is a noble beast, providing sustenance to all. No, I forget myself. You are far too lively and unpredictable to be compared to such a steady creature. Perhaps…a wild mustang, running free.”
“Nice save, sugar,” Grace replied with a wink, hopping off Jim’s saddle with a jaunty swagger. “So, what’s the play, boss? Got time for a whiskey break? I got the flask! Oh, what do you think about our haul? Think we can get a bounty?” she asked, gesturing at the bound bandits.
Rachel exhaled sharply, cutting through their banter. “Captured or not, the guards will just let them go, Grace,” she reminded, her voice as flat as her gaze. “The whole world’s corrupt.”
El Santo frowned at that, his jovial demeanor dimming slightly as he lowered his glass. “That is…a rather bleak outlook, Señorita Rachel. Is there no way for justice to prevail?”
“Justice isn’t my concern,” Rachel bluntly replied, walking past them. “Talk to Gray or Green if you want to discuss justice. My priority right now is meeting them at Ali Baba’s house. They’re already talking to his wife and servant. Keep up. I want to finish this fast.”
Nia flicked her ears and leaped to the rooftops in one fluid motion, her illuminated figure stark against the darkness. Rachel followed shortly after, her steps light but deliberate as she mentally called inward.
Thalia, got a question for you.
A faint ripple of blue flame materialized beside her, the hellhound pup shaking her head as if annoyed while easily keeping pace on their rooftop flight. “You’re interrupting our game of Hell’s Dice with Nike,” Thalia grumbled, carrying a hint of mock indignation. “What’s so important that you had to call me out?”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. The soul issue. These Fable humans—how can you send them to Hades if they’re not real?
Thalia tilted her head with exaggerated patience, her tail flicking as she responded. “Pfft. I forget how clueless you mortals are. Simple. Tie off their souls and sear ’em into solidified beings. They’re already teetering between real and fantasy. All you gotta do is nudge them toward reality, wait for the scale to tip, and bam! Stabilized. Then, I chomp. One more happy customer for Lord Hades.”
Hopping from one rooftop to the next, Nia cast a sidelong glare at the pup. “You better not be chewing on my outfits again. I left you plenty of actual dog toys in a bag. Go sniff it out.”
Thalia gave an airy shrug, clearly unbothered. “Eh, my sisters like to try out new fashion, so don’t be surprised if the room is a bit messy, bunny girl. Nike likes to cheer them on. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Luck awaits, and I’ve got dice to roll.”
With that, the fiery pup vanished in a flash of blue flame, leaving Nia grumbling under her breath. “Just because they could rip me apart doesn’t mean I’m going to take shit or let my precious clothes get stretched, burned, or chewed up. Give me a second, Major, I need to set some ground rules.”
Rachel couldn’t even smirk as the bun vanished in twinkling light to confront the hellhounds. She kept her attention forward as they approached their destination, Grace and El Santo catching up on Jim below, racing through the alleyways like a whirlwind. The faint glow of lanterns and candles spilled from the windows of Ali Baba’s home below, their voices reaching her sharp ears.
She landed softly on the tiled roof of Ali Baba’s home, her silhouette framed by the faint lantern light spilling from the windows below. Nia had yet to reappear, likely having trouble with the pups or being drawn into a talk with Nike. The street below was alive with the murmur of wary eyes and the occasional flicker of movement as the populace avoided unnecessary attention in the foreboding night.
Rachel crouched low, her ears twitching as she listened; the buzz of flies flew around them, no doubt projecting their activities directly to the princess. Grace soon joined her, El Santo touching down beside them. She directed the cowgirl to a few flies rising up to circle them.
“Start killing the spies.”
The brunette’s face dulled for what seemed the first time in a while. “Great. I’m on bug swattin’ duty. I’m on it” she sighed, sharp eyes following one and slapping her hands together to crush it. “One down, a million to go.”
Rachel left El Santo to help her as she pressed a hand to the frame of the small skylight above and silently pried it open. Landing with the silence of a whisper, Rachel took note of the expansive manor, stripped of almost all of its lavish furnishings.
Red was the first one to look at her, leaning against a wall. Black didn’t even glance up from her position beside the drawn curtain, peering down at the street. Green was at a small, crude table with Gray, both sitting opposite Yasmin, Ali Baba’s wife, and Morgiana, his servant.
The servant woman’s petite frame hunched over, her bronze complexion catching the flickering lantern light as Rachel approached. Her dark curls were pinned back but wild, framing a face etched with both determination and exhaustion. Beside her, Yasmin clutched her delicate hands, worry lining her features.
Gray took a stand, arms crossed as she joined them, his tall frame relaxed but commanding, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“What you’re saying aligns with what we’ve pieced together. It seems you had a better grasp of what was happening than Ali Baba himself, Morgiana. The Grim Tale isn’t just feeding on chaos—it’s warping everything to further escalate it. If Abu Hassan has figured out a way to steal magic from the Sultan, being the principal authority in this realm…well, that explains the instability.”
Morgiana jolted in shock as she came into the dim light, focusing on her ears; the woman shivered upon spotting her glowing eyes, swiftly looking away. Yasmin stifled a gasp, shrinking behind Morgiana, while the servant’s fingers twitched toward a small blade at her hip. Her stance was protective, poised to shield Yasmin.
“Relax,” Gray smoothly reassured, his lips quirking into a small smile. “That’s Rachel Park, the one I mentioned earlier. She’s…a specialist in problem solving, I suppose you could say.”
Rachel tilted her head, her intense gaze sweeping over Morgiana before flicking to Yasmin, then back to Gray. “I didn’t catch everything. Where are we?”
Morgiana straightened, her hand easing away from her blade as her dark eyes searched her face. “You’re the one who’s been stirring the sandstorm in the market—the guards from the east?” Her voice was quiet but firm, tinged with an undercurrent of curiosity. “The tales don’t usually include…people like you, Ms. Green, or…” she trailed off, directing a glance at Black and Red.
The wolf gave a toothy grin and mock salute. “Finally, you show your tail, Rach. Can we crush some heads now?”
“I’d like that,” Rachel replied, crossing her arms and leaning slightly against the wall, her shadow sprawling over the flickering lantern light. “So, let’s cut to the chase. Green?”
The soldier puffed out her cheeks and directed her toward the pair. “Meet Morgiana—the loyal servant, the protector, the…‘key’ to this tale. The tale might be about Ali Baba, but without Morgiana, Ali Baba’s a fish out of water. She’s basically the heroine of this tale. She was just beginning to tell us her story after we convinced her we weren’t trying to steal the clothes off their backs…which is about all they have left at this point. You were saying, dear?”
Morgiana’s lips parted slightly, hesitation flashing across her face with all eyes on her, “I know I’m not real. Not like you, Lady Yasmin, Lord Ali…or Lord Kashma.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed at the name, catching a nervous flutter in the young woman’s heart at the name but didn’t interrupt.
“I’m…a thread in this fable, woven to serve a purpose. My existence revolves around protecting Lord Ali’s family, yet…when Kassim, Lord Ali’s closest friend…like a brother to him, told me about my…non-existence…” Her voice faltered for a moment, Yasmin shifting to hold her trembling hand.
“It’s alright, Morgiana. It isn’t your fault. He took advantage of your confusion.”
Rachel’s ears tilted forward slightly, expression unreadable. It took a second for her to collect herself, seemingly reflecting on her reality crumbling around her.
“Forgive me, but it isn’t alright, Lady Yasmin… I left the house when I should not have. I knew Abu was likely to attack… My heart and mind were so…torn. When Lord Kashma told me it was true…that I was merely a fable, I…could not deny it. My purpose felt so…hollow.”
Morgiana took a deep breath, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “For years, I’ve lived with them—tended to Lady Yasmin when she was ill, helped Lord Kashma laugh even when shadows lingered over this house. Supported Lord Ali in his search for the cave… And we found it.”
Rachel’s ears flew up, startling the others. “Years? How long has Ali lived here with you without leaving?”
Gray’s eyes darkened. “Too long. It’s likely a contributing factor that allowed Abu Hassan to gather all the needed power to become as powerful as he is. From what information I have, I surmise Ali mistakenly thought that his brother on the outside would be the person who would betray him, so he isolated himself inside his world since The Oscillation. In here…years have gone by. Am I right, Morgiana?”
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She nodded solemnly, her voice turning cold and losing its timid note. “Kassim shattered Lord Ali’s faith in everything. He didn’t just betray him to Abu Hassan, but took Lord Kashma as a hostage. He joined the Forty Thieves, leveraging the information to be initiated into their fold. He’s unraveling this tale, twisting it into something…unrecognizable.”
Yasmin’s soft sob broke the momentary silence, her voice trembling. “He wants to feed off of my husband and son…to become real. Ali Baba’s kindness means nothing to men like him.”
Rachel’s sharp gaze shifted back to Morgiana, questions peppering her mind with the holes that obviously stuck out in the story. “And why did they take your son and husband but leave you two? It doesn’t add up.”
Black’s soft voice spoke from the window, pulling her gaze. “Women are believed to not have souls in this world. They do not have voices, which is something Ali was trying to rectify, or so the rats tell me. All sins fall on the men for not controlling their women.”
“Damn,” Red mumbled, “reminds me of a few cultures we infiltrated back in the day.”
Unable to counter that logic by simply casting a wide net to identify the truth of it in conversations between men and women in the streets, Rachel’s mouth became a line. “And Abu Hassan’s connection to the Sultan and princess?”
Morgiana’s brow furrowed, looking up at her as if she’d just ripped off a veil of darkness. “The Sultan and Princess Layla… So that’s how he’s bypassed all law enforcement and no one will hear our pleas. The Sultan is a hero and the princess his only child… Lord Ali was trying to change public opinion of women with her as an example. Are you saying…they are in league with Abu Hassan?”
Yasmin swiftly shook her head. “Impossible. No. The Sultan is a great man. He is a man of justice. He was the most responsive to my husband’s council and pleas. Ali had secured a position within his inner circle. I cannot accept that when I have looked into his eyes and seen nothing but love and compassion for all people.”
“The Grim Tale…” Green mumbled, looking at Gray, who nodded. “If it feeds on betrayal, despair, and ruin… If it’s gotten this bad, spiraling out of control, then…”
Rachel exhaled sharply, her nose twisting as she connected the dots. “The real villain isn’t Abu Hassan… It’s Princess Layla, who is using Abu. What a twist.”
Morgiana straightened, her voice steadying as she locked eyes with her. “That’s… After all Lord Ali did to elevate her and build her up to be a standard for all women? That’s unforgivable! I may be nothing more than a construct—a fable—but my loyalty to Lord Ali and his family is real. If you’re here to stop Abu Hassan and Princess Layla, I’ll do whatever it takes to help.”
Green’s soothing voice added, “And we’ll do everything we can to ensure you see this through. Real or not, you’re making your own choices now. That’s what matters. This isn’t just about saving Ali, but the Sultan and this entire realm.”
Rachel rubbed her chin, reflecting on what Thalia said earlier but keeping her thoughts to herself for now. “All of you can do what you want. I just need a way to get to the palace, wherever it is since it clearly isn’t in this city. How far away is it?”
Morgiana’s eyes brightened, a flicker of hope breaking through her guarded expression. “Thank you. About that… I know where Lord Ali crafted a waygate that will take us directly outside of the capital city.”
“That’s convenient,” Grace cut in, jumping down from the skylight. “Don’t bother, big fella, you’ll break it! So… What’d we miss? Uh, by those looks, I’m not going to get an explanation. Am I?”
Morgiana firmed her jaw, setting with determination. “The Sultan’s magic—it’s beyond powerful—it’s earth shaking. He gained the power to protect our nation through a mighty djinn’s magic and vanquished many armies. If they manage to twist the Sultan into something evil…the entire world could be destroyed.”
Rachel pushed off the table, her hammer materializing in her hand with a faint hum of power. “I keep telling you. I’ll handle it. Just show me the way.”
As they prepared to leave, Yasmin stopped Morgiana with a quiet plea. With trembling hands, Yasmin unclasped the gold necklace from around her throat, its faint glow catching the lantern light as she held it out to Morgiana.
Her voice broke, heavy with emotion, as the older woman explained, “Ali enchanted this himself, so I could always find him if we were ever separated. It will guide you to him. It’s…all I have left—my last hope to bring him back.”
Morgiana’s breath hitched, her wide, dark eyes fixed on the delicate chain. Hesitantly taking the spelled item, her fingers brushed the metal, as if it still carried Ali’s presence. Her voice quavered, cracking as she asked, “Why…didn’t you give this to me sooner, Lady Yasmin? I could’ve found him. I could’ve brought him back to us… I could have brought Lord Kashma back.”
Yasmin’s tears welled over, streaming down her cheeks as she placed her hands gently over Morgiana’s. “Because I was afraid,” she whispered, her voice thick with regret. “I couldn’t bear to lose you too. You’ve been more than a protector or servant to us, Morgiana. You’re my family. You’re…the daughter I never had.”
The weight of Yasmin’s words broke through Morgiana’s composure. Her breath shuddered as she pulled Yasmin into a tight embrace, the simple gold necklace still clutched in her hand. Tears spilled freely from both women.
Yasmin whispered, “Be safe. Please, bring them back to us.”
The room fell silent, save for their quiet sobs, the raw emotion filling the space like a solemn hymn. Rachel stood nearby, her arms crossed, her glowing eyes betraying no sentiment as her ears twitched impatiently. Finally, she cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but if you’re done,” she murmured, her tone clipped, “we need to move. The clock’s ticking.”
Reluctantly, Morgiana pulled away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She secured the necklace around her neck, its faint glow settling against her chest, a renewed resolve burning in her gaze. Yasmin gave her a final nod, her lips trembling into a weak smile of hope. “Go, Morgiana. Find them.”
They departed the house and made their way to the portal Morgiana mentioned, tucked away in a hidden room in a second house Ali had purchased. The portal was a masterpiece of magical craftsmanship, its archway adorned with gold and lapis lazuli, etched with flowing Arabic calligraphy. The artifact shimmered faintly in the dim light, exuding an air of mysticism that seemed to hum with the power of countless fables woven into its design.
With Morgiana’s guidance, Rachel followed her instructions to activate the portal, the inscriptions glowing softly before erupting into a swirling vortex of vivid green and orange light. The air buzzed with a low, melodic hum.
As they stepped closer, without hesitation, they stepped into the vortex, Rachel leading the way. The interior of the portal was like a dream given form—a shifting tunnel of vibrant, shimmering light displaying flickering images of Arabian myths. The scent of exotic spices filled the air as they moved through the surreal passage.
Emerging on the other side, they found themselves at the capital’s outer wall, the magical symbols below their feet fading into oblivion as if never there. The towering structure cast an imposing shadow over the surrounding landscape. The faint sound of desert winds howled in the distance, but the city beyond was eerily quiet.
Rachel sighed, her ears tilting forward as she heard the gentle scuffle of feet all around them. Of course it’s a trap… They would know where this gate is and know it would be our fastest route. Not like it matters. She smirked, reflecting on the words the thief had told her. What did he say? Their fate is sealed.
She didn’t even need to say a word. Red giggled, her wolf tail flicking with delight as she vanished in rose petals and flash of light. Grace’s pistols were in hand, backing up as El Santo stepped in front of her to block an enchanted arrow with his body, the tip drawing a bit of blood before dropping to the ground.
Green raised her shield to protect Morgiana and Black as Gray stepped closer, whispering, “We’ll handle the welcoming party. Can you give us a way inside?”
Taking a deep breath, Rachel cracked her neck, the action bringing her head out of the way of another arrow. Nia materialized in a burst of light.
“What’s the play, Major?”
Rachel was done playing around. The heat rose in her chest and she stepped forward, muttered, “Like I said, I’ll handle it. Just stay out of my way. Nia… No holding back. I’m done.”
A wide grin spread across her outfit’s face. “Send it.”
A chill spread through Rachel as her hair dyed the color of blood:
[Lunar Spike: Blood Moon - Activated]
[Grade Advancement - Lunar Spike II Unlocked]
[60 Seconds Remaining]
[Curse of Ambrogio: Active]
[Divine Ultima Regeneration X - Selene draws the user’s spirit into Hades. So long as the user’s spirit remains with her, the user’s body will continue to regenerate endlessly from a single cell that survives.]
[Divine Creature of the Endless Hunt X - The user is capable of personifying the Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis, as her greatest hunter.]
[Divine Silver Vulnerability X - Wounds caused by silver will not recover.]
[Divine Sunlight Vulnerability X - Cursed by the god Apollo, any cell touched by sunlight will be utterly destroyed.]
As her spirit left her, a link between Hades and her actual body was created; those who joined in Ambrogio’s curse had their spirits ripped away to the underworld, severing emotion from thought. Fangs grew from her pearly teeth, fingernails dying crimson and extending.
The whole world around her opened up, every creature, every insect, every bacteria, before her sight as if a spotlight was shining down on them. Then, she heard her: the Greek Personification of the Moon, Selene.
Somber yet tranquil, and accepting of her sorrow. “You come and go in waves, leaving me in your wake…swallowing everything. When the curtains call the time, my darling, will we both be satisfied? Love…the death of peace of mind.”
In a pulse of ruby light, her blood red hammer materialized over her shoulder, Nia reflecting her demi-goddess transformation as all rage, guilt, and odium melted into Selene’s cold sorrow—then, the urges came. Athena was near, she could feel her drawing closer after her ascension to a demigod.
It’s time for the hunt.
* — * — *
The drive to the safehouse was tense despite the light-hearted banter in the SUV from Selvaria’s monotone voice and Cahira’s snickering jabs. Fiona sat quietly on Anthony’s shoulder, her wings deactivated as she watched the cityscape pass by through the mystical haze that surrounded them.
Across the river and mist, the Parliament building stood stoic in its old-world grandeur, but it was dwarfed by the massive trunk of the World Tree rising in the distance. The tree seemed alive, its bark shimmering faintly with the energy coursing through its towering form, roots sprawling into the city like ancient veins, despite how new it was.
Selvaria’s voice broke the silence, her teenage frame still notably putting pressure against the seat she sat in; her spinal spikes and her still, blade-like tail had already done quite some damage to the vehicle seats.
“I’m just saying, if I chewed on one of those roots, don’t you think I’d get superpowers? Maybe laser eyes or mystical breath. I could really lay down the smack on villains.”
Fiona glanced back, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile despite her anxiety. Selvaria was half-sprawled across the backseat, gesturing animatedly toward the window. Cahira leaned casually against the other door, the streetlights glinting off the pirate’s auburn hair as she laughed.
“Lass, ye’re barely keepin’ your spikes from tearin’ this car apart already. Maybe get super at sittin’ still first,” Cahira teased, leaning back to nudge the sea dragon’s side. “Besides, is bein’ a giant monster of the high seas not super enough for ya?”
“Not super enough,” Selvaria huffed, crossing her arms. “I want to fly into space and chew up planets. You’ll see. I’m going to stop the alien threats when they come.”
Where does she get these ideas? Fiona shook her head, the two’s antics momentarily distracting her from the knot tightening in her chest. She stared out of the window again, an uncomfortable pulse vibrating through her tiny frame. I’ve felt so…off lately. It’s like I haven’t fully fit into my own skin yet. Mariah mentioned the same to me…
Her thoughts circled back to Merlin’s earlier warning, making her fingers close around her squeamish belly. Why does the Scarlet Hand want me… Was Rachel and Scarlet simply too hard to go after, leaving me as an easy mark now that I’m away from Rachel’s Misfortune circle? Or…do they want to use me as leverage? I don’t want to think about it. I just want to know my family is okay!
When they arrived at the safehouse—a nondescript stone building across the river from the Parliament—Fiona took to the air. She lingered above the curb, noticing that the buildings nearby had been evacuated with how silent it was within the misty zone. Her gaze fixated on the distant tree, trying to find some comfort in its majestic mystery.
Anthony stopped beside her, his phone tucked into his pocket as he gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey. I know this is a lot. But don’t worry, okay? We’re not staying here long. The plan’s to get to Ireland. This is just a pit stop.”
Fiona glanced down at him, trying to draw strength from his calm presence as Cahira tried to help Selvaria out of the SUV without her opening the top like a can to escape. “Were you able to get in contact with Rachel? You don’t think something happened to them after she had that battle with Green?”
The fire-haired man’s mouth became a line as he shook his head. “The news says there was an explosion in the city but I can’t get in contact with anyone over there yet.”
“That’s scary,” Fiona mumbled, thinking about Maria and how her new unicorn friend was holding up. Erika was diving head first into her work, building connections and finding personnel for Omen, burying her broken heart after being dumped. “I just feel pulled in so many directions. Erika needs me. Rachel could have used our help. My family… Ireland…just sounds far away. And now this business with the Scarlet Hand targeting me.”
“It’s closer than you think,” he reassured, offering her a stable smile that did help a little. “We’ll figure this out. Together. We’re a team… A clumsy team,” he sighed as Cahira almost got flattened by Selvaria’s tumble out of the SUV.
Fiona managed a small nod, but before she could reply, Merlin materialized a few steps ahead of them, observing the pirate and leviathan grumbling over totally different issues neither would listen to the other about. His ghostly figure was slightly more defined now, his gaze sharp as it fell on her.
“I don’t wish to be the bearer of bad news, but it will take another three days to get the supplies you need to bring into Ireland for their relief,” Merlin noted, his tone carrying the weight of someone accustomed to delivering difficult truths. “With that being said… What would you say, Ms. Fairy, if we were to use you as bait in that time to lure out a member of the Scarlet Hand?”
The words hit her like a gust of wind, leaving her breathless. “Bait?” she echoed, her wings fluttering nervously and powder swapping to a dull yellow. She looked at Anthony, whose expression darkened, his jaw tightening as if ready to argue on her behalf. But before he could speak, Fiona raised a hand.
“Say I do it…” she began, swallowing hard to steady her voice. “If I let you use me as bait, will you help me save my family? Whatever you can do?”
Merlin tilted his head, considering her for a long moment before responding. “You have my word. I will issue you a knight of the Round Table to assist you in your quest.”
Fiona’s chest tightened as the enormity of the decision settled on her shoulders. But she knew the answer before she even finished weighing the risks. Her family was worth everything.
“Then I’ll do it,” she determined, her voice carrying an edge of resolve that surprised even herself when dealing with an organization like the Scarlet Hand.
Merlin gave a slow nod, his gaze drifting toward the towering World Tree as Anthony crossed his arms, his posture tense with unspoken questions. “There are a few cabinet ministers whose loyalty I need to test. Someone with significant financial influence is backing the Scarlet Hand as they consolidate their power. To uncover who that is, we must trace the flow of funds to the right politician.”
* — * — *
The sound of laughter and music hummed faintly through the thick oak door, the festivities beyond a stark contrast to the dimly lit study where Astra stood. Chewing a piece of gum with exaggerated snaps, he leaned against the glass table in the center of the lavish room, his current visual image that of a young boy in a crisp, nondescript outfit.
His gaze flicked between the holographic display—his holographic display—projected from the table and Adele, who stood nearby with a scowl etched deep into her otherwise regal features. Ever since her husband’s death, the soft charm that once bubbled beneath Adele’s surface had been replaced by a hardened, brittle resolve.
The hologram shimmered, Scarlet’s live actions showing the woman’s daughter with a glare as she stared daggers at Astra. The reaction was understandable, given how Rachel responded to him; the vampiric girl was practically glued to the hare at this point. A fact his mistress was not too fond of.
Astra directed dozens of dolls throughout the world, yet this one was of the most significance. Currently, he was on a tense journey to the Scarlet Hand’s secret bunker to extract information he didn’t carry on-hand—sensitive data kept isolated from his system about Babel.
Adele’s dark brown eyes bore into the projection, though her scowl wasn’t directed at her daughter but at the undercurrents of rebellion and the broken trust between them. He could practically hear her thoughts: It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
“Scarlet’s glares don’t bother you, huh?” Astra popped his gum and tilted his head, watching as Adele’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the sofa. “Must be nice. I mean, she looks like she wants to roast me alive and bury me next to the nearest upside down cross.”
Adele inhaled sharply but said nothing, her attention fixed on the data in front of her. Her voice, when it came, was calm but tinged with barely restrained frustration. “She doesn’t understand. Not yet. These are emotions you wouldn’t understand.”
“No kidding,” Astra said, shifting his weight as his gum snapped again. “But for the sake of efficiency, let’s cut the mother-daughter drama for now. This whole thing with Rachel—attacking her brother in such a brazen way—is beyond reckless. It’s why you told the organization not to go anywhere near her family, isn’t it?
“Maybe it’s time we feed Scarlet a little more information. Pin it on the Hanmaek out of South Korea since we’ve already confirmed they went after Rachel’s mother. Identifying the attackers and the fact they have some connection to Rachel’s grandparents will be a massive win in trust. Scarlet will lap it up as goodwill and might even stop giving me the stink-eye.”
Adele’s gaze flickered to him, her scowl deepening. “It wasn't Hanmaek that did this to her brother.”
Astra’s eyebrows furrowed, recalculating the outcomes and possibilities with his current data network. “Then who could it be? The Hanmaegak are the only ones who would be this bold against Rachel. You have me going to reveal data on Babel. Yet, it doesn’t line up with Babel’s methods, the Nazi party, USSR’s goals, or any of the usual players we deal with.
“Perhaps just a rogue Grim Tale, maybe?” he postulated, finding it on the more likely of sides. “Someone else trying to stir the pot? Sure, this does strengthen the USSR’s position and I’ve already confirmed that she already made contact with Red and got what she wanted,” he stated, not using her name so as not to draw her magical eye, “but this whole scenario feels like a misfire if it’s meant to be Babel. Rachel isn’t stupid and the divine backing she has… It makes no sense.”
Adele rubbed her temples, leaning against the arm of the sofa. The weariness in her posture momentarily softened her sharp exterior. “Take this as fact and run the numbers. Abu Hassan is working with Babel,” she said after a long pause. “I’ve already confirmed it.”
Astra raised an eyebrow, pressing the gum to the roof of his mouth. “He is… There’s nothing in my database about that.”
Her pointed stare silenced him. “Do not play games with me today. You know your database doesn’t encompass everything, Astra, and I am not going to give you access to it. Not even my husband had access to the full picture.” Her voice wavered just enough for him to notice, and his gaze flicked back to Scarlet’s distrustful glare in the hologram.
He caught it then—the flicker of pain in Adele’s eyes. The sadness of a mother watching her daughter mistrust her every move, seeing betrayal where there was only desperate love. Scarlet’s cutting words replayed in his processors: accusations of traps and lies, that he was no different than her mother, trying to use her.
He popped his gum louder than necessary, drawing Adele’s gaze back as he took her information and ran it through the most likely scenario. “Babel may have hired Abu Hassan, likely to steal the magitech bombs from us to reverse engineer them and put me in the hot seat with Fable, the US, and Mexico.
“However, they wouldn’t have wanted to touch Rachel with a ten foot pole, not yet, anyway, with Izanami and Hades’ eyes our hare. But what about their brush with Rachel during Elizabeth’s masquerade? The one where Neo Daemon interfered with them on Rachel’s behalf when one of Babel’s Vollstreckers rather boldly attempted to steal the Thorns of Christ and Saint Catherine’s legacy.”
Head tiling the opposite way, he glanced toward the door as he saw movement toward their room but maintained the conversation. “I could see it as a negotiating tactic with one of the China factions. Perhaps one of China’s budding rulers noticed Empress Wu’s interest in Rachel and did it as a statement?”
Adele’s lips tightened as he sought for further clarification. “That one action almost brought Neo Daemon down on everyone. If they’re trying to avoid an all out war, they’re doing a bad job of it. Neo Daemon’s interference has already set us back in Scotland. And now—” She stopped abruptly as the door swung open.
The festive noise from the hall beyond surged briefly, only to dim again as a group began descending into the castle’s basement. Astra shut off the hologram with a flick of his hand as the Legend of Aleister Crowley swept into the room—the owner of this castle they were borrowing.
Draped in a dark ceremonial robe adorned with intricate crimson and gold patterns, he seemed to float more than walk. A chain of gold hung around his neck, and symbols glinted in the faint light of the study, hinting at their arcane significance.
“My dear Adele,” Crowley greeted with a broad, amused grin, his voice rich and theatrical, “I trust you’re not brooding too much over your daughter’s latest tantrum? Come now, will you both join me for the ritual at the root? The stars are aligning beautifully tonight.”
Adele’s lips curved into a tight smile. “You know how much I adore your hedonistic gatherings, Aleister.”
Crowley’s laughter echoed, deep and infectious. “Then not at all, I see! Still, with a soul as potent as yours and that unique connection to Revilla…and your energy,” he mused with a twinkling eye, “you could halve the time needed for preparation if you’d simply indulge in the Ritual of Pleasure.”
“Two months is plenty of time,” Adele smoothly replied, her tone leaving no room for argument to engage in the licentious acts. “The future is far dimmer than I anticipated. Rachel is…tugging everything out of order, and not by herself.”
She turned to Astra, her composure steely once more. “Find the true culprit who put Rachel on this scorched-earth mindset. Someone isn’t just going after her—they’re targeting us all, using her to pry Babel into the light. I want to know who.”
Astra rubbed his chin, his youthful guise making the thoughtful gesture. “And Revilla hasn’t clued you in yet, my administrator?” he asked, his gum snapping again. “That says plenty. Whoever it is, they’re in deep. If Rachel’s tangled up in this tug-of-war, I say we help her win. Not just for her sake but for ours, by my calculations.”
Crowley clapped his hands with exaggerated delight. “While you two plot and brood, I’ll entertain our distinguished guest from Parliament—and her charming husband.” He added with a devilish grin, “You know, Adele, politics can be just as exciting as the occult…in the right setting.”
As Crowley swept back out with a theatrical flourish, Astra watched him go, his processors shifting focus back to Scarlet’s data. Adele was already moving away, taking out a phone which instantly applied protocols to turn off his audio devices—apparently, it was someone important.
With a sigh, Astra leaned against the table, chewing slowly. Let’s see what we can find, Scarlet, he thought, reconnecting his main systems to the Montana doll. It’s always the quiet ones stirring the biggest messes behind the scenes…but to think even Adele doesn’t know who did this is…quite perturbing. That’s on a level higher than the 8th dimension. Interesting.
His gum snapped sharply as he considered the bigger picture. Whoever it is, it was dangerous for them to bring the Limpid Hare of Misfortune into their crosshairs, but something tells me this wasn’t about Rachel alone. They’re doing this because of whatever is behind the Montana Crystal, he thought grimly. Perhaps they’re trying to force Rachel to grow strong enough to compete against it… But to go after her brother to elicit that response? That’s suicidal.
Astra’s lips curved into a faint, calculating smile. So many mysteries to solve, and Rachel knows I’m an AI. I’m sure of it. If that’s the case… His gaze drifted to his administrator, standing off beside a lit fireplace. Is Scarlet’s ire due to my actions…or the fact she knows her mother is watching through me? Very interesting times ahead.