She once heard it said that of all of the places in this forsaken world, the cities of Europe were the safest from Calamities. Ignoring the sinking of Venice, the meteors that laid waste to Dublin sixteen years ago, the Great London Storm, and that large crater in the south of France, the wisdom mostly held true. European nations ranked high on the Calamity Preparedness Index, the Netherlands especially with their knowledge of maritime Calamities and history of land reclamation from the sea.

The lack of a roof on the building they were in said otherwise.

Mihira was holding onto her—this body’s—left hand as they slinked through the abandoned building. Arinya was holding onto Mihira and occasionally whispered a few words in Thai. Her injury was healing well. Good enough for the journey ahead. The carp watched her. Did it know this body was a puppet? She couldn’t dwell on it, not when they needed to leave.

The winds howled as they stepped outside. In the distance, a few lone skyscrapers were sheared in half. Where the top halves were, she had no clue. Wreckages of what she assumed were once homes awaited them at an intersection. Someone’s arm was sticking out of a wall, unmoving. She continued. When they passed by a woman sobbing with a makeshift splint on her leg near the river, Mihira drew closer to Arinya and grimaced at the scales she was holding in her spare hand.

Did Mihira want to cast them away after all that had happened? She wouldn’t blame her. The blade at her side itched to drink, but she quelled it. In her current condition, she could only control one at a time—and after what Mihira had gone through, her control was not what she needed.

Pain erupted at her side.

“...are you alright N—” Mihira started before clamping down.

She must have winced “That’s someone else’s name. If it’s this face,” She drew a circle around this body’s face. “Call me Sophia.”

Mihira nodded. They were close now…to the meeting place. This body, ‘Sophia’, wasn’t a law-abiding citizen. She had met her trying to rob a man in a dark alleyway. One nick to her arm was all it took to bring Sophia under her control. Her fingerprint unlocked her phone, and a useful contact.

A sleek black car was waiting for them, with its driver lounging on the side.

“Sophia, Sophia!” He clapped his hands together. “It’s been a long time.”

She knew his occupation. “Three people out of the city, no interruptions.”

“The typical evasive manoeuvres?” He put a hand on this body’s shoulder.

She knew there was an intimate connection between her current body and this man, but she brushed him off. “How much?”

“Three thousand euros, and you know me. No negotiating.”

Fucking porters and their jacked up prices. “That’s awfully expensive.”

“It’s either that or you can wait for the evacuation teams.” He pulled out a phone. “Who are about six hours away. There’s also reports that the dikes have broken so…”

She looked at Arinya and Mihira. Mihira looked confused and Arinya’s stoic expression told her that she didn’t understand what the man was saying. She pointed at her palm and tried to mime holding paper money. That caught the woman’s attention, quickly getting a fat stack of euros from her jacket. The porter took it from her, counted it, and squirted counterfeit checking ink on one bill.

“Looks good.” He opened the door. “Get in.”

All three filed in.

Her left side was burning—

A hand touched her arm. Mihira looked at her with concern. She simply nodded and closed her eyes, letting the darkness overtake her—

—She awoke in bed.

“So you’re awake.” A man opened the door, sporting blue medical gloves. “Good to see that.”

She looked at her body—the real one. The one bruised in almost every area. She could thank the Lady for her not being injured, but she wasn’t in a grateful mood today. She tried to move her left arm, but it ached.

“Hm, I’m surprised that you weren’t badly injured based on your description of what happened. I’ll run a second checkup on you just in case, but I doubt your recovery time will be long. Let’s say a day or two?”

She grunted. The doctor nodded and closed the door behind him.

He didn’t ask too many questions. That was why she had checked herself in. Dr. Hamdi was well known for his discretion, especially since along with his daytime practice he also serviced…less than optimal patients. The last time she had seen him for a broken leg, she asked him why.

He simply smiled and said: “The same reason why you travel.”

That was good enough. All of her books were here and he was kind enough to leave the remote within arm’s reach. She quickly grabbed it and turned on the television. Unfortunately, the newscaster was speaking in Dutch, and the damn settings were in Dutch. She eventually got the television to display Arabic captions.

“...reports of a mysterious Calamity striking the western coast of Holland. Many residents have gone missing since news broke out. The Ministries of Justice and Security, and the Interior and Kingdom Relations have reportedly been cut in half by the Calamity. No accurate death toll has been released to the public, but likely to be in the hundreds.” The newscaster stopped for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, but we are currently receiving more reports. The Zuiderzee Works have been significantly weakened by the unknown Calamity. All residents of South Holland and Zeeland—”

The porter was telling the truth. Most of them liked to lie about how dangerous Calamities really were. It was easier to wring more money from panicking people than those still in control of themselves. This time though, it wasn’t a Calamity.

She reached for a worn volume, brushing off the cover and tracing her fingers along the black calligraphy perfectly preserved through the ages.

Burj al Mizan. Libra.

She flipped through the pages, stopping at a lengthy description of the Scales of the Four Winds. Refreshing her mind, she relearned it all. The Scales were a benefic force—or malefic, depending on what the Lady of the Clouded Courts judged you to be. Its power over the wind was without peer, the book said, able to pound the mightiest of mountains into submission or calming those coursing with aggression.

The book extolled the virtues of the Lady, how she was discerning and graceful.

Nothing about her love, nor her fleeting passions, nor her—

She blinked. Checking on her still blood red dagger, she slept soundly.

The next day, she was ready. She sent some commands to ‘Sophia’: to keep Mihira and Arinya out of harm’s way and using lethal force only when necessary. Dr. Hamdi opened the door, checked her vital signs, and assessed for further injuries. After determining that she was completely healthy, he gave her two suitcases. She opened the first one. Inside were detailed blueprints, a fake ID badge for one Layla Nazari and scrubs, a working schematic of security cameras, a list of who was on rotation, and an Arabic to French dictionary.

“...”

“Yes, you do need to speak French.” He sighed. “And young lady, you will not be rolling your eyes at me.”

“...” She frowned.

“Now, coming off of the heels of breaking into United Nations property, why do you want to infiltrate one of the most well known hospitals in Geneva?”

She stared at Dr. Hamdi—and reached for a newspaper article. The headline boldly stated in German: “Missing Scientists Found After Three Weeks Long Search”. The article promptly detailed how they were suddenly discovered in front of Hôpitaux Universitaires de Genève. Fifteen scientists were immediately admitted, especially since one of them was discovered to be comatose. Although, the article said all of them. The official website on the project listed sixteen contributors.

When she read it, she felt vines slinking through her stomach. Her current theory was that the disappearance was no accident. Whoever orchestrated it had both deep pockets and connections. A puzzling enigma, one she could only solve if she interviewed the source—

“There’s an issue.” Dr. Hamdi took back the security camera schematics. “These are now outdated.” He slid a manila folder to her. “These are the new versions.”

She took them, read through each and every file, and dropped them into the folder.

“...full body recognition software?”

The doctor adjusted his glasses. “After that dreadful attempted robbery, the hospital installed new cameras. Ones instantly connected to the databases of the local police, the cantonal police, and Interpol. Your control over them is phenomenal, but unless you can accurately mimic their exact body language, you can’t send one in. And then there’s the matter of your eyes.”

She knew what he was talking about. As long as she had someone under her thrall, her eyes turned dark red. The person she was controlling would share her eyes too. A deeply unnatural colour.

“Contacts then.”

He handed her a box.

“You have the artefact?”

He brought over the second briefcase. She took some medical gloves from him, completed the lock combination, unlatched it, and opened it to peek at the contents.

“That’s a fucking gun.”

“Yes.”

“Her price is a fucking gun? And she wants me to smuggle it into the country?”

“She is an avid gun collector, and she promised you information in exchange for, as you say it, that fucking gun.”

She closed the briefcase. “And she was fine with me looking at this? It’s not a trap?”

“The woman is surprisingly forgiving considering her line of work. The meeting place is at 2100 hours near the Jet d'Eau de Genève in two weeks’ time. Don’t be late.”

The next two days were filled with her reading through the Arabic to French dictionary, studying the hospital blueprints and camera positions, and working out. Occasionally, she read through the seventh volume. She only had three volumes. The broker promised her four.

Before she left, she peeked through the door. The good doctor was sleeping. On his desk was a photo of himself grinning with his arms wrapped around another man.

She knew the other man all too well.

His eyes stared back at her whenever she looked in a mirror.

She quietly slipped out the door.

She was on the road now. The older roads, the ones the governments decided to let overgrow in lieu of lack of funds and too many Calamities. They built new roads that avoided more Calamity-prone areas, but those were too high traffic. She slept during the day and travelled at night. She could justify it for secrecy reasons, but she always hated being awake during the day. The Sun hurt her eyes.

Tonight, she stowed away in an old farmhouse. Half of it had buckled under the weight of a massive black meteor. An old Calamity she figured. Whatever it was, its occupants were long gone and she needed shelter. It started raining in the middle of the day, little drops rolling off of the exposed timbers.

A flash of lightning, the cold chill of the wind, little snowflakes, rolling clouds—

She curled up tighter. These impressions were too intimate to be mere memories.

Setting off, she found herself in a field devoid of all vegetation. The culprit lay sleeping in the field. Another black meteor. She kept finding them in places of death and desolation. When she was under a more stable roof, she consulted the eighth volume.

Nothing helpful. No traces of ‘Calamity’.

She kept travelling. Carrying a backpack filled with four volumes, one briefcase with a gun, and her steel amulet hidden on her person, she was making quick progress compared to her load. A dirt road opened up and she walked along the side. It was peaceful—

Until she saw that lorry.

It was rare enough to see one on a dirt road. It was even rarer to see one on the same dirt road you were travelling, and in the same direction. She regarded it as a curiosity—until her nonexistent tail threatened to pop out of her spine and she keenly sensed someone being acutely aware of her existence. Two people in fact.

Swirling colours in fantastical bubbles, terracotta mixed with a strong scent—

She nearly dropped her two briefcases in surprise.

Once she had found a secluded location, she unsheathed her dagger. Glowing blood red under the sunlight, she channelled her consciousness into ‘Sophia’...

…she opened her eyes to the night and a makeshift campfire crackling. Embers floated through the air as Arinya stared at a papery map. She got up and walked to look at the map. The map was written in Thai, but she could recognise the outline of China. Her Chinese was passable, but she’d rather watch without acting.

She had slipped into the Peace Palace as a shadow, closely following them but never interacting. She observed Arinya’s careful examination of the Chinese vases in the Japanese Room. It was likely that the placement of the vases were no mistake considering Mihira’s heritage. The vases’ origin was suspect. Why the Chinese artifacts specifically? Unless it was a hint towards the Door. If the Door was in China—it had to be the Lady’s choice. The Key in a palace dedicated to justice and peace, the Door in a temple? What locations would be attuned to the Seventh House? Rites of law and order—a natural landmark. Many emperors had ceremonies on the mountain to affirm their rule, and the most well-known mountain was—

“Mount Tai.”

She blinked in surprise as Arinya turned to face her.

“Are you surprised? I’m not a pretty face, I know when someone is staring over my shoulder.” She looked at her arms. “Do you have anything to say~ Or do you want to share any helpful knowledge~”

“...”

Arinya stared at ‘Sophia’s’ body. “Am I talking to you, or an empty headed puppet?”

“...”

She returned to her map. ‘Sophia’ scanned the clearing. Where was Mihira? The rustling bushes answered her question. She peeked overhead—and found a sobbing Mihira with her head buried into her legs. She moved next to her immediately.

“H-hello?” Mihira looked up, tears brimming in her eyes. “Sorry you have to see me like this…I feel awful.” She continued to sob.

She stayed by Mihira’s side. Behind them, the fire flickered and Mihira looked away.

“---I should’ve known better.” Mihira buried her head in her knees. “I thought if I surrendered to her judgement, she would know better on what to do and how to use the Scales—” She looked at the bronze Scales forlornly. They were quite far from her. “What happened to everyone…Hua-san…Urantsog-san…Noortje-san…because of me...look at Sinaka-san…” She looked behind her, the lenses on her glasses fogging up. “She’s so graceful…but sometimes when I look at her…”

“You see her sins.”

Mihira turned to look at her. “Her…sins?”

“‘The Scales balances the soul with the feather of harmony. If the soul is deficient, the Scales tip in the feather’s favour and those judged unworthy bear their sins.’” She ran her fingers through this body’s short hair. “I know this, and I know that the Lady is an alien being. Her judgements are fair and reasonable to her only.” She…knew the Lady better than she knew herself. “It was your sight for an exit.”

Mihira nodded. “But…I could have…” She sputtered out between sobs.

“The Seventh House is associated with balance. Breaching the domain would have required power beyond our means. That offer was better than expected in this dying world.”

“So I messed up.” Mihira hung her head in shame.

She wanted to say more, but she knew that if she did so, Mihira would cry. With a last command, she commanded the body to sleep with Mihira and…find a way to help her.

Sleeping through the day and trekking through the night, she found herself in Geneva under the cover of night. She hadn’t heard much of the city, other than it being the site of the Geneva Conventions. Everyone had the same vacantly happy expression and lightless eyes. Like they were going through the motions.

She wondered what she, a ghost among the living, looked to them.

After she found a secluded room, she changed into white scrubs, adjusted her scannable name tag, concealed her knives, and headed out. She stowed away the briefcases and the backpack within a secure location. For now, ‘Layla’ was late to work. No one would question a frantically sprinting woman late for her first shift.

She made her way to the entrance when some passersby started looking at their phones and chattering in French. She only caught snippets of the conversations, but she recognised one word.

Calamity.

A fleet of ambulances sped out from the hospital while a few nurses rushed out of the main entrance. In the confusion and the panic from the bystanders, she weaved her way through the crowd. Scanning her nametag and making her way around the nearly deserted hospital, she found a dispatch on the computer. All police officers and emergency medical staff were redirected to the site of the incoming Calamity. A small shift was here to monitor the patients. If anyone asked, she would simply state she was assigned to the observational shift.

There were quite a few cameras. She avoided them out of habit. Many of the patient rooms were empty in the building she entered. They might be in another building.

Entering another building, she searched the rooms methodically. In a darkened hallway, she bumped into someone.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone at this time.” Whoever she bumped into had a feminine voice.

“Me neither.”

Judging by the lack of a reaction, her French was passable. She couldn’t search with someone at her side, so they walked in silence for the length of the hallway. One of the windows had a street light shining through, illuminating the other woman’s uniform.

A police officer. Her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t remember you being on rotation for the observation shift. I always check the schedule in my spare time.”

“It’s an observation shift, I can’t abandon the patients.” She stared hard at the other woman. “But then, aren’t all police officers supposed to be responding to the Calamity?”

She was prepared for the first punch thrown. Grabbing onto the outstretched arm, she flipped the other woman on her back. Jumping above the leg swipe, she was caught off guard when the other woman suddenly grappled her. She kicked the fake police officer in the groin area, only to receive a baton blow to the head. Dazed, she couldn’t resist when the “officer” pushed her out of a square window. She blinked, looking at the city lights before her attacker dragged her back in. One swipe, and she hid a glass shard in her sleeve. When the woman rushed at her, she drew her shard and drove it hard into her left shoulder. While the woman was distracted, she grabbed an AED and whacked her in the chest. She was on the verge of opening the AED case when she was tackled to the ground by the brunette woman. Both of them struggled to gain dominance over the other—until she grabbed hold of her amulet.

A long time ago, she had it modified to suit her better. Now, she was glad she did so.

Drawing the long steel chain, she waited for an opportune moment. That came when she was pinned chest first to the ground. As she sensed the woman’s breath near her neck, she looped back her chain around the woman’s neck and pulled hard. Getting up and tightening the steel chain around her neck, she held the amulet attached to the chain in her left hand while keeping her grip.

“Those that whisper in the dark, those with locks on their hearts, I know your secrets. I claim my inheritance of night and blood and vow to use it against those that bring oblivion.”

Darkness consumed both of them. She felt her tail spring out of her spine while she was cloaked by the night. Her hair was braided and her white uniform was transformed into a black skin tight bodysuit. She felt the familiar weight of her throwing knives and her whip at her side. Vitality rushed through her veins as the other woman began her death throes. Once it was done, she stood tall over the other woman’s body crumpled against the floor. Her head was lying on her tail before the woman in black let down her head gently on the floor.

She nudged the woman’s head. Drained of blood as usual. A shadowy tendril unzipped the woman’s jacket and scavenged her pockets. A fake ID, fifty euros—a photo of the woman with a man slightly resembling her. She lingered on the photo.

Muna, Muna! Look what I found! It’s a shell!

Stolen story; please report.

She dropped it. A crash resonated through the hallway. She focused her eyes, letting it naturally adjust to the darkness. Roughly ten metres away, one of the rooms was shining brightly. She narrowed her eyes and advanced forward, toggling her mask to cover her dark red eyes.

Lurking behind a corner, she observed the room.

A man in dark blue was standing over a comatose man. The EKG monitor was beeping all the while. In his right hand was a syringe about to inject into the patient’s IV. A nurse was slumped on the floor, one bullet hole in her forehead and eyes wide open. Readjusting her eyes, she spied the man’s chart. Elias Brunner. One of the scientists she was wanting to meet.

There was an audible clunk before a dagger broke the window and killed the lights. She immediately kicked the man in the head, her eyes readjusting to the natural darkness. He swung at her, but it didn’t land. Grabbing a nearby metal tray, she bashed it on his head and smacked him across his right arm with her whip. The syringe was caught by her—as a bullet whizzed by her ear. She dodged it easily and struck the man in the face with the whip. His neck was exposed—perfect. She jabbed the syringe into his exposed skin and injected the liquid straight into his throat. Draining him, she let the blood from his throat solidify into a makeshift rapier and parried at a fast pace. Despite his blood loss, he kept up with her, deflecting almost all of her blows with his own weapon until he suddenly faltered. There, she struck with her tail, poisoning him with one sting. After he was dealt with, she moved to the nurse and closed her eyes.

It was that moment the washroom door opened and one of the unbroken lights turned on. She was briefly blinded by the brightness before shielding her eyes. A woman with short cropped hair was in visible shock, her feet wet in the leftover blood. Enveloping the room in darkness, she cupped the woman’s mouth.

“Don’t scream, don’t panic.” She tightened her grip over the woman’s stomach. “I’m not here to hurt you, I need answers. Do you understand?”

The woman nodded slowly.

“When I let go, you will not call for help or attempt to run off.” She showed the woman the man’s dead body. “Do you understand?”

The woman nodded, shakingly.

She let go. The woman gasped.

“I–I can’t see anything. Can you turn on the lights?” Her French was shaky and not the best.

She let one light shine through. Any more, and her eyes would hurt. “What’s your name?”

“Laura Bianchi.”

“You worked on a project for the University of Zurich. What was it and what was your position?”

“It wasn’t on behalf of the University of Zurich, but a collaboration between several universities. Most of the research grants were from the University of Zurich though. As a microbiologist specialising in the soil microbiome, I was asked to lend my expertise to the project, especially after the head of the project read my recent paper on the adaptations of nitrogen fixing bacteria to Calamity caused weather patterns. The purpose of the project was to engineer more Calamity-resistant strains of common cereal crops and create a suitable environment. If you studied the effects of the first ten years of Calamities on the global food supply, you would know why.”

It was before her time, but she remembered the tales of farmers starving in their homes as their fields were devastated by Calamity, the crops that survived being left to rot because the ships supposed to transport them were sunk by an errant storm.

“We each had our own roles. I was meant to assist in seeding the soil with bacteria involved in maintaining soil nutrients. Elias—” She gulped and struggled to hold back tears. “Elias was an epigeneticist. He wanted to help others, especially his twin sister. She listens to gossip all day—”

“Did you notice anything unusual about the project?”

“No, except when Signorina Wald approached me. She’s a nice kid, but she gets worried over everything. She was worried about a disturbance outside of the building. I told her that I would take care of it. I was expecting it to be a stray moth or a cat, but Signor Müller, the project head, was talking to a mysterious person in the rain. He was tall, well-built, and I couldn’t recognise his face. I eavesdropped, and Signor Müller kept referring to him as ‘our dear benefactor’.” She pursed her mouth. “I knew every financier personally, and I didn't recognise him. They were discussing a special ‘shipment’ and the man asked Signor Müller to inform him if anything happened on a Wednesday.”

Slithering vines, a great tree growing amidst a well maintained forest—

“I never thought about the shipment, I was too busy with my work. Signorina Wald was restless that entire week. Later, we were kidnapped.” Laura drank water from a nearby cup. “We escaped and Elias is still in a coma. Did you kill the nurse?”

“No.” Wald… “There was no mention of anyone named Wald at this hospital.”

Laura stopped drinking. “They told me not to tell anyone. They erased all traces of her presence, deleted her digital footprint, and made her a ghost.”

“Who?”

Laura pointed at the EKG monitor. It appeared normal—until the monitor flickered and electric blue static took over. She noticed two faint blue waves.

An interconnected digital collective focused on the future—

“They check in and make sure that Elias is alive. I don’t know why. Ava thinks that they were watching over us in our prison. How did that man slip through…”

“Anything else? Especially about Signorina Wald?”

“Other than two identical teenagers freeing us, no.” Laura squinted. “You don’t look much older than Signorina Wald.”

“She had a carbon amulet the day they took you all and the teenagers were identical twins with control over sound and silence.”

“How—?”

“I have my ways.” That was all she needed to know.

Before vanishing, she dispatched five stalkers looking for the scientists. She wasn’t alone in her interest. Looking at the cream, she wondered.

She found her way back to the warehouse and grabbed…almost everything.

The briefcase was gone.

“Fuck.”

Canvassing the warehouse, the area around the warehouse, and nearby alleys, she concluded it was missing—and she needed a replacement fast. Fuck.

Asking to purchase a gun without an ID card or any identification would have been an immediate red flag to Swiss authorities. She knew that there was a thriving underground 3D printing market: many charged to use their 3D printers to print anything. From banned foods to gun components, all she needed to do was to set up an appointment.

Discreetly paying a courier for information, she was to meet in a pharmacy tomorrow at 2300 hrs. It was almost dawn, the Sun’s rays stinging her eyes. Hiding in the abandoned warehouse, she let her mind seize control of ‘Sophia’---

—where she was greeted by a sleeping Mihira on her lap. A stray sunbeam crossed across Mihira’s chest. They appeared to be resting in an abandoned shack. No sight of Arinya.

Slowly, Mihira’s eyes began to flutter open. Brown. No transformation…

How badly was she rattled by the Scales? The Scales were a tool according to her books. When she was judged…she heard a distinctly masculine voice. There was no animate spirit in any of the Keys and the Scales were described as “without breath or wind”.

White feathers, a sharp beak, a raspberry scented kiss—

“You’re awake?”

Mihira was sitting up, wiping her eyes with her fingers. She wondered how much Mihira could see at this point. If she held up four fingers, would Mihira be able to recognise them?

She answered: “Yes, where’s Arinya?”

“She wanted a bath.” Mihira opened her amulet and frowned.

The Scales were sitting on a small mound. She dared not to touch it. Based on her impressions and the manner in which the voice conducted himself, she would end up imprisoned in her own mind.

Mihira was more important. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“You’re lying to yourself.”

“Yes.”

In any other situation, she wouldn’t be aggressive. “You need to overcome it.”

“I’m unworthy, the Scales said so.” Mihira cast a forlorn glance. “It should find a better candidate to hold it.”

“That’s impossible.”

You will never escape it, not until your blood is spent and your breath is reduced to nothing.

A slight chuckle escaped her…she still remembered after all these years—

“Sophia?”

Snapped out of her daze, she turned to Mihira. “There will be other candidates—but a century is nothing to them. You would need to be dead for another candidate to arise, and who fucking knows when that will be.”

Mihira stopped holding her amulet. “So it’s only me?”

‘Sophia’ nodded. “Yes.”

This girl is the sole vessel…to the Seventh House. She mentally traced the words. Associated with balance…and cooperation.

“Give me your hands.” She extended her left hand.

Mihira took it.

“Transform.”

Grasping her copper amulet, Mihira recited: “Take my hands and grant me the power of justice in this unbalanced world.”

The amulet burst into pastel colours and she held tightly onto Mihira’s hands.

Habibti, if you meet the vessel of the Seventh House, you must know these words—

“I call upon the claws of the scorpion sundered from its body! Let the power of the Seventh House be shared with the scorpion it split from! By gods and men, I’ll surrender it once justice is served!”

The words reverberated in the air as black tendrils seized the amulet. She screamed once the winds started battering her body, but she remained while the darkness overtook her.

Once it receded, she looked at her hand surrounded by translucent pink and black rings. Mihira’s right hand was clasped within hers.

Mihira gingerly picked up the Scales. “I don’t feel anything.”

You dare pick me up after what you have wrought!?

“Go fuck yourself.” Whoever the animating spirit is, he was a sanctimonious motherfucker. “You know that she’s the only one who can use this amulet.”

Being of the Eighth House, you should know about the cycle.

“I don’t have time to deal with you. Give Tenhou Mihira control. We don’t have time to wait for everyone to die to get your perfect candidate.”

One must be willing to shoulder the duty of upholding the Seventh House’s tenets.

The books did not prepare her for how tiring it was to talk with those of the Seventh House. “Fine then.”

She raised Mihira and her hands and attempted to seize control over the Scales.

Her dark will clashed with the spirit’s defenses. With no blood, she was at a disadvantage, but Mihira’s inner power made up for the power differential. The spirit stood stoically against her lashes of force, but she found impressions of a true body once. Sharp stings battled against blustering gales. The ground beneath them shook as the atmosphere grew darker.

“What are you doing?” asked Mihira.

She ignored her. She needed complete concentration. Dominating an incorporeal being was harder than a flesh and blood being. The spirit had tremendous reserves, but she knew the barriers people kept. The light of the Sun was blotted out and terrible gusts of winds pounded against the earth. The dirt beneath them collapsed under the weight of the air, but she was unrelenting. Within seconds, she penetrated his walls.

Orange and black, pale pink and light blue, a swirling array of feathers—

“Stop.”

Mihira faced ‘Sophia’. “I think that I can get through to him.”

She released her hold over the spirit’s mind. “I’ll give you one chance.”

Mihira nodded and knelt so that she was eye level to the Scales. “I know we had our disagreements, and I know that you don’t think I’m good enough to be the Seventh House’s representative. I can prove it to you.”

The Scales remained still.

I’ll allow you to resonate with the Scales. If you prove to be unworthy, I will relinquish our connection. Justice has been served.

The rings around their hands dissolved. Mihira held the Scales in her right hand. She extended her left hand to Mihira, who took it.

Mihira took a deep breath and concentrated. At once, she felt at ease with herself. The bond between them shifted, releasing energetic waves that vaporised as quickly as they were related. A halo was forming over Mihira’s head, accompanied by two white glowing wings and sharpening into four points.

“Oh!” Mihira shouted. “I know what to do now! Arinya!”

‘Sophia’ turned to face Arinya, her body coiled around a hill.

“Splendid~” She hissed out. “How nice of you to keep Kun Mihira company.”

The Sun was rising now. ‘Sophia’ stood up. “I completed what I needed to do.”

“Indeed.” Her eyes fluttered. “You seem to be a pure being.”

‘Sophia’ grunted. She cared not for pretty words, especially not as the sun rose, but something made her stay.

“Your interest in us is intriguing, especially since the last time we met—” Arinya glanced at her dark red eyes. “Ah~, we have the same eyes.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing much.” The vertical slits in Arinya’s eyes deepened. “I just want to know how you seem to know so much about Kun Mihira—in fact, I don’t even know your name.”

You will never find out, she thought. “I’ll see you later.”

Arinya remained poised. “If you so wished, Sophia—wait this isn’t Sophia is it? I’m talking to the puppet master. Makes me wonder…are there others?”

“There’s a reason the Scales found you guilty.” She needed to be free of this chatter.

Darkness overcame her—

—as she awakened underneath a starry sky.

Any aspiring astronomer found strange comfort in a Calamity: most countries have a policy of focusing energy to emergency efforts and less on street lights. Thirty years ago, seeing the night sky in a busy urban corridor was unthinkable. Now, she walked under a tapestry of lights.

The pharmacy was on her left. According to the electronic sign, they were closed, but the door swung inwards all the same.

“Layla Nazari?” A voice called out.

She sheathed her tail and put her hand on the window. The full moon shone brightly through the blinds.

A petite woman stood on the other side of the counter. “No lights? Odd condition.”

“You have the parts?”

The woman nodded. “I’m almost done. You’re welcome to look around.”

She glanced around. The typical pills, drugs, and balms—there.

A thick black book.

She knew this. The eighth. Scorpio.

“Yamo!” She held it in her hands. “Can I?”

A chuckle. “It’s going to be yours one day. You should get to know it.”

“You’re interested in that?”

She must have lingered on it.

“It’s my maternal grandfather’s. He had only one daughter, so he passed it on to her, and now I have it.” She looked at the woman. “I’m surprised you can see it. It’s the middle of the night and I can barely see you.”

She looked down at the cover.

Yuè. That was how the Chinese character would be read.

Mortar and pestle, liquid flowing into a bottle, the moonlight—

The dark green cream felt heavier in her pocket. Without thinking she put it on the counter.

“Turn on the light here.”

The woman did as asked—and gasped at the dark green container.

“How did you find this?” She grabbed the container instantly and studied it. “No one should be able to have these!”

“What are they?”

“Uh...most of the time I would say it’s a family secret, but if you had this, you know more than the average person.” The woman placed reading glasses on her nose. “It’s a special container. My maternal family has a tradition of practicing medicine, even if it has…an otherworldly origin. This is used for special medicines.”

“It can instantly heal any injury, why?”

“I can’t divulge the exact method, but it has a faster onset of action than any analgesic in existence.” She looked around. “How did you get this…I’m not sitting with a murderer, am I?”

She thought about the mansion in Morocco and the damned security guards. “No comment.”

The woman sighed. “They have different effects depending on how they are prepared—Ah, I think they’re all printed.” She left through a door in the back.

Turning around, she emptied her backpack. Her own black book, but in curling Arabic calligraphy. She compared the two books after retrieving the woman’s book with a shadowy tendril. Hers was narrower, but thicker. Opening both of them made them resonate with her.

Twelve books, twelve Houses—

The door opened. She rapidly shoved her book in the backpack while the woman set a briefcase identical to hers on the glass counter.

“As you requested.”

She moved a thousand euros to the woman, who took it. She turned around and strolled to the door.

“Thank you for your business, and have a good night—Your backpack’s open.”

She tried to close it from behind her, but the light was on her back before she could blink. On instinct, her tail sprung out of her back.

“You’re—you’re part of a Guardian family too?” The woman adjusted her glasses. “Would I know which one—”

“Don’t ask.” She bit her tongue.

“...that explains a lot.” The woman tapped her fingers on the counter. “Your accent screams the Middle East…wait you’re one of the L—”

“They’re dead.” She looked at the other woman with her dark red eyes. “And they should stay dead. Don’t ask after me. I was never here.”

With that, she left.

Even in midsummer, the wind was chilly. She shivered slightly as the stars taunted her with their cold shine. Near a fountain, she looked at the sky. The claws of Scorpius hung low. Her eyes traced the bright outline of the body. Somewhere, she heard the distant call of sirens and lights flashing.

She opened her steel amulet. There were small etchings in a concentric arrangement at the centre. She toyed around with the rings. Rarely, they glowed dark red. If Mihira was here, she might have been able to decipher them. She had determined that the writing on the dark green container and inside her amulet, but she hadn’t been able to match any words.

Two men, one of them drunk, were lounging behind her on the opposite side of the fountain.

“Come on Peter! She was nothing, there’s other fish in the sea!”

“We’re inland.”

“It’s a metaphor!” The other man threw an empty bottle over the fountain. “Fine, what do you want to talk about?”

“Work, that last job.”

“Oh that.” Another bottle chucked into the fountain. “That was a weird one.”

“It was a dome…in the middle of nowhere.” A dome?

“The supervisors wanted a rush job with the way they were hurrying us. I heard one of them talking about needing to avoid any nosy journalist.”

This conversation was getting interesting.

“Do you remember the article about the missing scientists? They mentioned they were close to Geneva…and the dome was close to Geneva—”

“They told us to keep our mouths shut and the payments sealed the deal! We’re not even supposed to mention it to the Swallow!”

The Swallow was the name of the broker she was supposed to meet.

“I still have that slab.” Pierre pulled out a small fragment. “See how it drinks the light?” He touched it, causing subtle ripples.

Null, the void, standing at the edge of oblivion and ecstasy—she knew all of it, the secrets it held, the mystery, what was forbidden for her to know! She must! If only for—

“Excuse me Madame? Are you alright?”

She blinked. The two men were staring at her and her hand was on the now black slab.

“Yes.” Of course she was…but what happened to her?

The two men looked at each other and shrugged. “Are you lost?”

She snuck off into the night.

The city was dead at midnight. Probably because of the Calamities.

Once in Dubai at one of its underground bars, she was listening to a conversation about the Calamities. About when they would end, when life would go back to normal, when they can finally expect consistent shipments without worrying about a freak Calamity wrecking the ships or grounding the planes.

She coughed. They would never end, unlike what her amulet said. They’ve been here for more than thirty years. No one knew the answer, and her fantastic powers were just that. Fantastic, not world changing.

One day, habibti, you will have powers that will transform the world.

Powers to transform the world…but not enough to save them.

She grabbed her dagger. It was low on Sophia’s blood. All she had to do was fascinate the mind—

—And she was there. At the top of the mountain. She could already feel her control over Sophia waning. Mihira’s halo glowed as she approached a stone platform.

“You’re here again!” Mihira cried out.

She nodded.

“I think I need you.” Mihira stood on a small circle inscribed with the Chinese character for yang. “The Scales said I needed someone equal to me, but also my opposite.”

Coming from the Scales, that was more of a stealth insult. She took her place in the yin circle. The platform was arranged in an octagon with trigrams on each side—all of which started glowing. Blue-green, red, yellow, white, and black lines traced activated more stone platforms.

“They look so pretty!” Good to see she wasn’t losing her sight.

Twelve reliefs rose out of the ground. She recognised the one with pink spinel eyes. The Pig’s fat belly laid low as it—he gorged on what she initially assumed was grass. A closer look revealed that it was demonic beings sporting elongated tusks and horse-like ears in the Pig’s mouth. Mihira was entranced by the Dog accosted by similar looking beings. One of them seemed to have a spear. The other ten signs encircled them while blue and pink strings fell around them. She received six sky blue strings. Each seemed…short. She looked at each relief. The Ox’s nose had an indent, the Rabbit’s elixir had a small indent at the top, the Snake’s string instrument had one, the Goat’s paintbrush, the Rooster’s scroll, and the Pig’s nose. The other six had a small hook sticking out at certain spots.

“Attach the pink strings to the hooks, I’ll put the blue strings in the indents.”

Mihira nodded and started connecting the pink strings. She decided to start putting the blue strings inside the holes.

A glacial bridge across the length of the heavens, standing still while the world—

Jade eyes, twitching ears, always ready to flee, the moon waxing—

The melody of a thousand vibrations, vertical slit eyes whispering sweet nothings—

Bubbles of colour bursting at the seams, the world in reverse—

A bright piercing cry pierces the sky, metal blades cutting deep—

Pearls hung in the air, the sweet taste—

With each blue string attached, she looked at the pink strings—the exact same length. Mihira and her attached the blue and pink strings together until they were standing in a makeshift six spoke wheel—which started to form a small portal. Wind erupted forth, blowing Mihira’s two coloured hair back. She felt calm and content…even the emerging personality of Sophia.

“It’s…beautiful…” Mihira looked into the portal. She held up her hand to Sophia, but the woman stood there. “Can you come with me?”

“I’m losing control as we speak.” She winked at her. “I’ll see you again, angel.”

Before she relinquished control back to Sophia, she heard Mihira calling for her.

“Najwa.”

Mihira smiled. “Thank you for everything.”

And as she entered—

—She returned. It was still night. She returned to the meeting place and waited. A small van pulled up, dark enough to hide any distinct colour. Someone put a bag over her head and stuffed her into the trunk. Two in the back with her, one driving.

About twelve minutes later, she was carried out, strapped to a chair, and had the bag over her head taken away.

A metallic gun barrel greeted her.

“Hello Layla, or is that your real name?” The woman on the other side undid the safety. “You’ve made quite an entrance.”

She stared at the woman.

“I thought you were known for your stealth and secrecy.” The Swallow kept her finger close to the trigger. “I was surprised to hear that seven people have been murdered under highly suspicious and unusual circumstances—I doubt any hitman knows how to drain anyone of their blood with one scratch.”

Did she know about the gun?

“And I expected that I would have the original gun, not a 3D printed copy.” Click. “I let you look at the gun to understand the task I gave to you.”

It happened in an instant. The trigger was pulled, blasting the mirror behind her into smithereens. Her black scorpion tail lashed instinctually.

“Well shit.” She holstered her gun. “I had an odd feeling that you weren’t a normal person. You didn’t even flinch? Ever been shot at close range before?”

A few years ago, she thought, with a whirlwind spy and a sharp drop off a Riyadh skyscraper.

“No answer?” The Swallow chuckled. “Ah, your discreteness is a virtue in this business. No matter, my informants told me everything. Since I doubt I can truly intimidate you, I’ve given you what you desire.”

Four books were laid out before her.

Taurus. Leo. Aquarius. Pisces.

She reached out for the books, only to be stopped by a gloved hand. Immediately, the stinger moved closer to the Swallow’s face.

“Put that away, I want you to know something. I’ve always believed myself to be the one tapped into everything, knowing each and every operation taking place in Europe. I can’t surpass the Norns, but I liked to think I was their equal. Until this.” She placed down a newspaper article, the same one the woman tied to the chair read this past week. “When I learned that someone kidnapped sixteen scientists and put one of them in a coma, I was livid. How could I have missed that? So I started investigating them, and that’s when the evidence started producing unexpected results. Like how they used a material unknown to science to build their black site. Some of my men were discreetly hired as part of their wrecking crew.” She looked through the woman in black. “One of them was asking about the books you wanted.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I usually would have sold it, but I have my qualms.” The Swallow smiled. “Like not putting a relative in a coma.”

Now that she mentioned it, there was a slight resemblance between her and the comatose man. Laura mentioned he had a sister—

“You’ll have more on one condition: Track down their base. I’m sure you’ll agree.”

She nodded. She could sting the Swallow and take the books, but she’s in an open space and judging by everyone’s hands, none were unarmed. Better to cooperate.

“Good. One of my informants photographed two of them. I’ll let you look.”

She slid over a manila folder. The woman’s bonds were undone, allowing her to open the folder. A few photos of a man and a woman talking, one of them smoking. Nothing unusual…there.

A tablet with a logo.

A Latin U with a wavy line through it.

A symbol she knew all too well.