“How many twos fit into fifteen?”

“Seven.”

“Alright, put a seven there. Seven times two?”

“Fourteen.”

“Good. So put a fourteen there. Fifteen minus fourteen?”

“One.”

“Nice. Now bring that zero down and do that over again.”

“This is taking up too much paper.”

“Yeah, I know. There’s a shorter version, but it’s harder to remember.”

Elliot had, so far, spent a good hour or two directing pencil scratches across lined paper. This morning, those lines had happened to form numbers. Business hours only opened at ten o’clock on weekends, but the same could not be said for Iris’s home-schooling.

“Iris?” Elliot asked.

“Wait.”

“…”

“Okay, finished. What?”

“Do you like studying?”

“Do I like studying?” Iris asked genuinely, in place of the all-too-common guttural sigh.

“I mean, most people don’t like studying. It’s work you don’t get paid for, and it’s boring.”

“But it’s something I have to do,” Iris said, returning to her workbook. Not wanting to put notions of rebellion in her head too early, Elliot decided to drop the topic. The curriculum was made available to the public for cases not dissimilar to Iris’s, yet Evalyn had managed to distil it to its core fundamentals.

By only studying topics considered prior knowledge in secondary school, Iris progressed to third grade almost immediately, showing little sign of slowing down.

Elliot watched her diligently solve problems that would have little bearing on her life beyond the next thirty seconds. It was strange, uncanny almost, to see such a child do something so regular. Strange, yet something to be cherished.

“It’s not that I like studying,” she began, “it’s just that training scares me.”

“More than before?”

“Mmm.”

Elliot looked up at the clock hanging in the hallway.

“You’ve got a session in twenty minutes,” he said.

“I know,” Iris muttered. Elliot pouted, unsure of what to say in ways of encouragement. He always advocated for a good day off. But in her more time-sensitive situation, each day off was another day wasted.

“I’ll go talk to Evalyn, see if we can’t do anything about it. Keep doing your problems.”

“I’m almost done. Come back soon.”

“Just do the next page,” he instructed, hauling himself from his chair. He shuffled down the hallway, his socks gliding along the wood like an amateur ice skater.

“Evalyn,” he murmured, knocking on the door to their bedroom.

“I’m changing,” she called from the other side.

“Yeah? When has that ever stopped me?”

“Before we got married, I hope.”

Elliot opened the door, finding Evalyn fastening the last button on a white collared shirt. The usual work outfit, minus the trench coat, was altogether complete.

“Changing my ass,” he complained.

“What is it?” she said. “How’s math going?”

“Math’s doing fine unless you ignore the fact that she’s going to run out of material soon.”

“That’s fine,” Evalyn said, doing a once-over of herself in the full-body mirror. She fluffed her hair before pulling it backward, “I’ll get her started on whatever’s next.”

“You’ll be teaching a thirteen-year-old calculus at this rate,” Elliot noted, sitting on the bed.

“It’s not like I’m forcing her. She’s just a fast learner. She’s picked up everything I’ve given her pretty well.” She then thought for a moment. “Except language. I don’t know what happened there, but that wasn’t me.”

She walked over and sat beside him, her hair now pulled into a ponytail. Her favourite hairstyle, although Elliot preferred the looser nighttime look. Or rather, the relaxed state she'd be in when she wore it. “So,” she said. “If it’s not that, then what is it?”

“It’s the training,” Elliot sighed. Evalyn’s face drooped in response, and she leaned backwards.

“I thought so,” she admitted. “She’s been doing better lately, but she doesn’t seem to be enjoying it.

“I can’t blame her,” Elliot said. “No one likes what they can’t control, especially if it’s that.”

“Me neither. But I can’t afford to let her give up on it, especially now.”

She swung herself upright and began to pace up and down the length of the bed, her hands on her hips.

“The Queen’s approval, a full demonstration of power, and a confirmation of a Mind Palace. Only reason she’s still with us is because they could have never produced those results in a lab.” Her feet stopped, and she let out another tired sigh, although it did not seem to loosen her anxieties one bit. “I hate to admit it, but the power she’s so scared of is the only shot she has at a normal life.”

“And us, of course,” Elliot said, taking his wife’s arm and pulling her closer. She smiled at him wistfully, sitting down again.

“Says the Army Pilot to the Witch,” she noted. Elliot chuckled but only squeezed her tighter.

“When do you start work today?” Elliot asked.

“Ten on the dot, same as always."

“Give her a day off, will you?” he pleaded, “I’ll take care of her if you want me to.”

Evalyn thought. Guilt clouded her eyes as her characteristic empathy got in the way of her judgement. “Today, then. I’ll be back by six, then we can have dinner somewhere. How does that sound?”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“First as a family?” Elliot asked, a knowing grin on his face. She returned it, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“I hope you’re okay with those replacing our dates for a while,” she baited, hoping to get some witty response.

“It’s you we’re talking about. I can’t complain when living with you is a dream come true,” he said, his voice levelled and face sincere. He had refrained from his habitual grin, and the effects of such showed on her face.

“I forgot you could flirt,” she said, sitting upright.

“No, it’s nothing that fancy,” he said, meaning his words. He did not believe himself to be so good with words. “It’s just a reflection of you or, I guess, the effect you have on me. It’s a good one, most of the time.”

“And yet you take those faults in hand,” she said, standing. “I guess I love that side of you.”

“I’m great, aren’t I?”

The telephone rang, its metallic bell needily chiming them out of their warm bubble.

“Elliot! Evalyn!” Iris called from the living room. “Phone!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Evalyn called back, moving towards the door. She reached the door frame and turned. “Yes, you have your good points too,” she admitted. Little remained of the smouldering scowl a younger Evalyn would fling reluctant compliments with. But a nostalgic bashfulness remained, one that never failed to make Elliot smile.

Evalyn left the room, drifting to her home office. Elliot could barely hear Evalyn’s words from behind two walls, but she sounded happy. The sound a proper, restrained adult would make when they were happy to see someone.

“Must be Marie,” Elliot noted, standing up and walking to his seat across from Iris. The girl had finished another ten or so problems in a short minute or two.

“What did Evalyn say?”

“Mum said you get the day off today, so after you’re done your problems, you’re free to do what you like.”

“What I like?” Iris asked. “What’s that?”

“…shit we forgot to give you hobbies. Uhm….” Elliot thought while the pressure of the big purple eyes mounted on his shoulders with each passing second. “Board games are kind of your thing, aren’t they?”

Iris’s face lit up with a grin.

“That’s fair enough. Let’s play a different one this time, though. Something less…lopsided.”

“I could beat Elvera now,” Iris strutted. She returned to her problems as Evalyn stepped out of her office, swinging the door shut behind her.

“Speak of the devil, Elvera just called.”

“Another mission?” Iris groaned as Evalyn walked over, pulling a chair out beside her.

“No, not this time. Asked if she could stay with us for a few days. Gotten sick of being alone on her days off, it seems.”

“We just occupied the guest bedroom, though,” Elliot said. “And I don’t want to put her on the couch.”

“I said the same thing, but she said she didn’t mind it. Better than falling asleep at her desk, apparently,” Evalyn said, leaning over to watch Iris write. “Your handwriting’s getting better. Have you been practicing?”

“Sometimes. You told me to keep a journal, so it’s helping with my letters.”

“And you’ve gotten pretty good at drawing,” Elliot mentioned. “I take a look at your work sometimes. It’s really good.”

“Maybe you’re the artistic type,” Evalyn suggested, grinning.

“Is that good?” Iris asked.

“Sure it can be. Being artistically inclined just means you’re more a thinker than a doer. It’s good to know what you’ve got going for you early, y’know?” Evalyn said.

“Just don’t think too hard, you’ll end up a party pooper,” Elliot added, rather unnecessarily. He yawned as his wife rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I forgot,” she started, checking the time. “I have to set up shop soon, but Elvera wants someone to pick her up at the station and let her in the house.”

“I volunteer Iris,” Elliot said, much too fast.

“Come on, Elly,” Evalyn pleaded weakly, but Elliot did not budge.

“It’s a good opportunity. The city is safe, and the station is only a few blocks away. You remember the way, don’t you?”

Iris meekly nodded.

“Then that’s that. I’m going to sleep,” he said, concluding the argument before it had even begun.

Evalyn stared at the now absent chair across from her, a mix of frustration and astonishment. She knew he was correct in his thinking. Letting Iris outside by herself was a good opportunity. Excala at mid-morning was as safe as could be, and the venture was not exactly an epic undertaking. Yet, her and Iris had been inseparable since their first meeting. Unless otherwise forced, the two had been practically attached by the hip. Safety, more often than not, demanded it.

She was a fledgeling Witch, but still a girl nearing puberty. She could walk a few blocks by herself.

And even still, the idea did not sit right with her. Evalyn had not had the same opportunities at Iris’s age, but she knew her upbringing to be intensely flawed.

“Well, I should probably trust the guy with the normal parents,” she said, giving into herself. “You alright with doing that, Iris?” she asked.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Iris muttered.

“I’m sure it’s safe. Does the station still scare you?”

“No. I think the thing in my head has gone away for a bit.”

Iris had been saying the same thing for the past few weeks. The notion that whatever lay dormant in her head had teased her enough for now. It had won a battle of the war yet to be fought, and was now taking a step back, beckoning Iris to find it herself.

“That’s good, then. The rush is over now, so you won’t be caught in the bustle. I’ll pack your bag, so get your shoes ready.”

“Okay,” the little girl muttered, closing her book and standing.

“Are you wearing your jacket?” Evalyn called as Iris went to her room, fully accustomed to the fact that her field jacket was no longer hers.

“Yeah,” Iris called.

Evalyn walked over to the coat hanger by the doorway. A brass skeleton, its harsh bars bent into gentler shapes, flowering at the top and bottom. The field jacket hung by its collar on a lower branch, roughly matching Iris’s height. Higher up were an assortment of garments and hats, both Evalyn’s and Elliot’s. They were so few in number that Evalyn could confidently recount the story behind each one.

Elliot’s white woven fedora he had bought on a trip to the coast, which they had both worn over the years. A sunhat Evalyn had purchased not long after their marriage, chosen for its bold red ribbon. The summer and spring assortment were always Evalyn’s preferred aesthetic, but the comfort the thicker head wear reminded her of was undoubtedly where her favourite memories lay.

“Here’s to new ones,” she whispered, raising the thick jacket to her face. “You’ve given yourself big shoes to fill.”

Nestled in and amongst the selection were two pieces that stood out. Black in an assortment of colours, like rot on an apple. Even if describing them as such was never Evalyn’s intention, they nonetheless fit the metaphor ominously well. Two black berets, adorned with the regal antlers of Her Majesty’s Royal Special Operations. Awarded to both of them at the conclusion of the Aether-Diesel war, Evalyn had not worn hers since she had received it. It hung there like a freshly executed death row inmate. Some…ugly reminder that the civilian life she tried to lead would forever be undercut by the deeds required of her.

A benevolent Queen, Amestris was, yet she was paranoid, and calculating. Evalyn and Iris lived under those antlers day in, day out. It was by her grace they did not live elsewhere, reside in worse conditions, get treated like mere weapons.

Iris approached the front door and lifted both her arms, turning her back towards Evalyn. She slipped both sleeves onto the girl’s arms before brushing the hair out of the collar.

“Ready?” Evalyn said, turning back to the hanger to grab her overcoat. “I’ll walk you to the end of the road.”

“Ready,” she said.

“Deep breath. One, two, three, and…go!”

Iris strode to the station doors as fast as her growing legs could take her. After crossing the road three times, the gates of the station should have seemed like nothing. Through cars, past alleyways and between strangers she had travelled, yet those doors still scared her.

She dared a tentative step forward, passing the gate’s threshold. It welcomed her, but she did not feel any gratitude. Around her were cafes, souvenir stands, and corner stores, almost as if the streets of Excala continued into the enclosed space. She looked upwards, and the glass roof of the arcade shone back with a brilliantly clear blue, the fluffy clouds forming distinct lines and shapes. Ten thirty, they said. Elvera would be waiting for her.

Everywhere she went, the people around her were taller. Although they were not as suffocating as she had imagined them to be, the crowds still moved at a disorienting pace. Rushing from one platform to the next. Iris started forward, eyes now fixated on the ground before her.

“International line is…is green,” she hastily recalled. A green line ran from the tips of her shoes onward, following a blue line until they split off, each going in their own direction. Iris began to speedwalk with a newfound sense of direction. She had gained back a modicum of control. The green line turned left, where more crowds, more stores and more lines greeted her.

“Platform three…platform three,” she muttered again. She searched through each line for any symbol—any sign that might inform her of a third platform. Platform three, P3, she did not care.

The lines were numerous, numbering from one through to six. She found three, yet it trailed off into a smaller, quiet area devoid of passengers or commerce.

“Was it platform three?” she said, panic and frustration infecting her voice box. “What if she was wrong?”

The crowds shifted around her, paying no heed to the troubled little girl in the centre of the walkway. She began to search around her for anything, any information or timetable. She could not read well yet, but it was better than nothing.

“Boo!”

Iris jumped as a pair of hands coiled around her shoulders. She whipped around, her hair standing on its ends, already primed for battle.

“Wow wow!” Elvera said, “It’s me, calm down! Wait, no, hey, don’t start crying!”