Crow sat with his hands on his lap and his back to the wall. He made no more noise than anyone else in his team, doubtful that any words he did say would even be heard by the others present.

It was, perhaps, pointless to have called a meeting with all of them in such a state. He supposed Astra’s motivation had more been for the comforting routine of doing so than to achieve anything specific in the process.

He had to admit there was definitely something to that, though the air of anxiety, unsurety and shock clinging to the room somewhat mitigated the effect.

After a while, Unity spoke.

“My handler hasn’t met with me since the… incident.”

He paused obviously, apparently not even he was entirely comfortable being dismissive about the matter of inepts being slain by magic. Almost reluctantly, he continued.

“I think it’s got all the organisers panicking. Both in terms of, well, organising, and the fact that the most powerful of them was just murdered. Not sure if they know anything though.”

“One Immortal was murdered,” Astra began, “and about a hundred thousand other people.”

Crow’s first instinct was that she was exaggerating, of course that many people hadn’t been killed. That was some hundred times as many as the entire population of Selsis.

And then he thought back to what he’d seen of the city. Those enormous buildings, streets stretching on for a thousand paces and completely packed with people. Enough peddlers to line entire sections of the place… The huge fissure he’d seen bisecting several city blocks and however many hundred structures.

God’s tear, a hundred thousand may well have been a conservative guess.

Unity scoffed, turning to Astra as he answered.

“Do you really believe they’d give a shit about that? The fuckers in charge care about one or two things, and if something isn’t their skin or their nation then I can guarantee it isn’t on their list of priorities.”

Silence met with that, lasting an uncomfortable stretch of time until Unity spoke again.

“What about you, Gemini? You’re close with Karma Alabaster right? Has she gotten in touch?”

Gem shook her head.

“If your handler hasn’t contacted you, she definitely won’t be reaching out to me for a while now.”

Unity grunted slightly in response, not sounding at all surprised. Crow found himself perplexed by the boy’s attitude. He seemed somehow… subdued. Whether it was to do with Bim, the disaster or both, he wasn’t sure.

“I know you all might not want to talk about this, but I think it’s important.”

All eyes turned to Xeno as she trailed off, apparently struggling to word her thoughts.

“With the Overseer’s death and the… other damages, well… there’s a real chance that the Sieve will be called off this year.”

Fear gripped Crow the moment the words registered to him. He’d fought tooth and nail to get as far as he had, and he’d been so worried about failing to get any farther that the idea of the Sieve itself ending prematurely hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Almost without thinking, he snapped. “That can’t happen.”

The girl looked at him apologetically, then gave a light shrug.

“It might, Crow. No Sieve’s ever been interrupted by something this big before. Not even close.”

“It won’t be cancelled,” Unity said, interrupting Crow before he could argue back. As Xeno turned to him, the boy arched an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, do you really think they’re going to go an entire year without crowning a “winner” of the Sieve? The organisers are almost exclusively made up of people with a vested interest in at least one of the participants beating out the others.”

Astra cut in, frowning in confusion.

“Wait, but we’ve all already qualified for the Gilasev Institute, right? So surely if they stop now it won’t make any difference.”

Her answer came from the quiet voice of Gem.

“It’ll make a lot of difference.” The girl almost-murmured.

“Getting into the Gilasev Institute is an opportunity, but what’s really important is forming connections to other mystics. Finding powerful tutors to teach you how to master certain spheres, people willing to invest the stars necessary to pay for someone to cultivate your talent, that sort of thing.”

Astra’s face creased even more. Crow could tell why. His sister had never been fond of knowing that mystics from noble families were so much more likely to find success, and she’d never been satisfied with the explanation that they were simply more talented on average, either.

It was incredibly upsetting to see her eyes drop to the ground, rather than harden with indignance and outrage.

Crow considered saying something to comfort his sister, but the moment was snatched away as Unity spoke once more.

“Yeah, so basically getting far in the Sieve and showing off your abilities is a great way to get sponsors. Sponsors can spend lots of money on finding you resources and educating you in magic even after the Gilasev Institute, and if you happen to win… Well, Sieve winners tend to get exactly what they want out of Mirandis. There isn’t a chance in the Pit that any of the Organisers are going to give up the chance to have their favourite take the win.”

It occurred to Crow, perhaps for the first time, that the Sieve was something which would set him up for a life of luxury. Even barely-trained mystics rarely went hungry, with the ongoing need for magic in the world they could always find work somewhere if they travelled enough.

If he won the Sieve, though… he’d be far more than simply secure. He’d be wealthy, incredibly wealthy. Thinking back to the reaction his strain had gotten, he realised he’d probably never have to worry about money again.

He hardened his heart against such thoughts. Crow couldn’t simply abandon Galad, and he wouldn’t live in the lap of luxury until his task had been accomplished. Apart from the Sieve’s lap of luxury, he reasoned that, as something he hadn’t actively obtained for himself, that didn’t count.

“If it continues,” he said, eager to distract himself, “then will this have any permanent effects on the contest? I find it hard to believe that the schedule won’t be changed at least.”

His question was not random. With Astra and Gem, their most powerful members, both unable to fight, a delay in the next task would be an extraordinary boon. More than that, it may well be the only thing capable of granting them victory.

Xeno’s response was a mere shrug, and Gem seemed to blanch at the very question. Before Crow could ask what was wrong, Xeno spoke up once more.

“I think it’s best to plan for the worst alternatives,” she said quietly. “In which case I’ll probably be the next of us to go up, right?”

Crow stared at her, and she hurriedly continued.

“What I mean is, I’m the one the other teams know the least about, so if we’re going to regain any momentum I’m probably a better choice than either you or Unity, for now that is.”

Her face reddened as she spoke, and not for the first time Crow found himself wondering how on Mirandis she’d gotten it into her head to try and enter something as violent as the Sieve.

Perhaps she was afflicted with the same stroke of madness he had been.

***

Karma worked through everything she knew as she walked. Each step served as the divider between one thought and another, every deep, forced exhalation working to ground her mind even as it threatened to spin off the rails.

She was going into a meeting of Immortals, that was all. Something she’d been doing for years, and been training to do for many times longer. The fact that their nerves would be frayed, their tempers as volatile as nitroglycerin, was no cause for concern. It was an advantage she had over them, and one she may well need.

Turning a corner, Karma felt her mind wander back to the sights she’d been met with the night before. The destruction, the ravine.

She quickly stifled such intrusive recollections. She had no time for wallowing in grief and disgust, not when there were far more important matters than her own emotions to handle. The clapping of her heeled boots against marble resounded from the walls of the abandoned corridor, producing a rather soothing rhythm.

Soothing, at least, until Karma found herself wondering why any corridor in the Crux would ever be abandoned.

She dismissed her worries yet again, this time with a flash of irritation at their regularity. Carefully smothering it, Karma inhaled deeply and began mentally working through her checklist. Ordering events and planning often served to steady her mind.

The Sieve had to continue. That was perhaps the only unshakable fact, the one goal which Karma could in no way compromise on. The Sieve needed to continue, and it needed to continue in its entirety.

The damages caused by Tamaias’s death would best be measured in the tens of millions. That, combined with the sharp increase of ambient magical energy in the area of his battle rendering huge sections of the city uninhabitable for years, would put immense strain on the Unixian Alliance’s resources.

If Karma could force the other organisers to continue the Sieve in spite of that, the money required to keep the event running smoothly while providing relief to the city would be dozens, perhaps hundreds of times greater.

Short-notice work was woefully expensive, after all. And it was a rare contractor who failed to notice desperation when their employer was as rife with it as Bermuda was.

The Jaxif Faction, and Olympus by extension, were not well liked in Unix. Karma herself was perhaps the only part of Dewlz that most Unixians had any fondness for, and even then only for the novelty of a foreign Princess to oggle entirely different parts of.

The Unixan Alliance may well eventually go to war with the Jaxif Faction, and Olympus would more likely than not be dragged into it if it happened. That meant it was entirely in her nation’s best interests to weaken the Unixian Alliance as much as possible.

Both to keep it from becoming confident enough to declare war at all, and to ensure that Olympus would win if the worst case scenario came to pass and battle was the choice the Xion and Zoric factions chose.

Karma very much hoped the worst case did not come to pass, bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed was something she found eternally and universally disgusting.

She made her way around another corner, eyes coming to rest on the door at the end. It was fairly normal seeming, at least by appearances. Certainly, it lacked the intense weight and ceremonious air of the entrance to the organiser’s previous meeting place.

That made little difference, though. The pressure exerted from the most stately door in the world would’ve fallen short of a cat flap, provided the flap in question was built into a building which contained a group of Immortals.

Steeling herself, Karma placed a palm on the oak surface and pushed it open.

There must have been magic used on the interior. That was the only way such a small section of wood could have sealed off the ungodly raucous which assailed Karma as she stepped inside.

Sins and Balogun were the worst offenders, both of them stood up and practically screamed at one another from across the round stone table. Lintona Riris and Elijah Sorafin were both making attempts to talk the Fables down, and yet the sheer volume of the argument was such that they themselves were forced to shout just to be heard at all.

They needn’t have bothered, neither woman seemed intent on listening to anything but the sound of their own voice.

Karma likely wasn’t even noticed as she came in and sat down. The Kin certainly didn’t bring any attention upon coming to a stand just behind her seat. They’d been content to wait outside in the last meeting, and yet when she’d ordered them to do the same once more, they’d responded by shaking their heads.

No words, nor other gestures. It was, of course, too much to expect that her body guards would actually explain why they were disobeying her direct orders. Deducing that they prioritised Hercules’ instructions to keep her alive over her own authority hadn’t been difficult, but it was more the principle of being forced to do so at all which needled her.

The arguing reached a new height, and Karma caught herself wincing at the sound. Glancing across the table, she took in the sight of the other organisers. There may not be a better opportunity to evaluate the situation, after all.

Lesifarz didn’t sit so much as slump. The man seemed different from when Karma had seen him last, and not in a good way.

The jovial flush of his cheeks had disappeared, replaced by a sallowness which made him seem more a hapless addict than a jolly drunk. His eyes seemed sunken into the sockets, affixed aimlessly on the table before him as though the world all around were inconsequential.

Karma had heard that Immortals, while typically empty in many aspects generally considered “human”, had a tendency to grow extreme attachments to the few permanent features in their infinite lives. Such was the reason so many of them dedicated centuries to bettering nations in place of seeking their own personal power.

The sight of the haggard Lesifarz made her wonder if such attachments could be towards other people, as well. Her information held that he and Tamaias had been friends for over a century, if that wouldn’t deepen a friendship then she didn’t know what would.

Packing such queries away for later, she focused instead on the man’s likely drive. Lesifarz wasn’t a fool, though he was slow by Immortal standards that merely made him intelligent rather than brilliant.

As far as Karma could tell, he didn’t particularly care about the Sieve.

Had he been stupid, she could have used Tamaias’s death as a way of making him fight for it to remain unchanged by making him think it would be finishing his friend’s work. As things were, she’d have to be more creative.

After a moment, Karma decided her best option was to make him instead focus on the one responsible for killing the Overseer. After all, there was almost a guarantee that their goal was to ruin the Sieve, given their target. If he thought having it continue would disrupt their plans, there was a good chance his apathy would quickly turn to passion aimed conveniently in Karma’s favour.

“I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO IN SUCH A WAY BY A SCATTER-BRAINED PRODUCT OF NEPOTISM!”

Karma turned to Balogun, finding herself somehow surprised by the new height to which the woman had managed to bring her volume. She wore garments similar to her previous wear, albeit with considerably less flowing fabric and baggy areas. Perhaps she was anticipating an attack, and selecting more practical wear as a result?

“MAYBE IF YOU WERE, YOU’D HAVE LEARNED HOW TO CUT YOUR LOSSES BEFORE YOU WERE HANDED RULERSHIP ON A SILVER PLATTER,” Sins spat back. There was a flush to her pale skin which made her seem almost embarrassed.

Karma, for one, was quite sure the cause was merely rage.

Loud though they were, the two women squawking at one another in such a way most certainly gave her some vital information. She’d assumed Balogun would want the Sieve to continue, as the first one Bârëi was having a direct administrative role in, she had a vested interest in it succeeding.

Of course if it did, a successful performance may well have been used against her for how it would reflect positively on the also present Jaxif Faction. She imagined that was Lae Sumi’s idea, the venomous bitch had a tendency to trick people into cutting their own throats.

The two continued hurling barbs, and Karma, though she was absolutely still listening, turned her eyes elsewhere. They came to rest on Zilch, and an unspeakably intense wave of spiteful satisfaction came to wash over her.

The professor looked worse than Lesifarz by far. His previously smooth features were lined and worn, great bags hanging under his eyes as though he hadn’t slept in days. The exhaustion and sleep deprivation seemed to have robbed him of his vitality so much that she wondered briefly if he’d decided to use magic to appear older.

Half a dozen men were crowded around the back of his seat, and despite the intense air of the room, their faces were stony and unchanging. Beacons, to match nicely with her Kin, save for their numerical advantage.

Zilch seemed to vibrate slightly as he sat there, his trembles so heavy and violent that she could scarcely spot a moment in which he was not taken by them. With a light smile, Karma recalled vividly his choice in magic. How the Quanturn demanded a user who not only chose abilities specifically to interface with it, but refused to choose any other.

It seemed the user in question was second-guessing his decision. Karma wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad, scared people could be malleable, but they could be equally irrational and unpredictable. If she was to bend a half-dozen Immortals to her will, she needed predictable.

“-DUTY TO ENSURE THE SIEVE PLAYS OUT AS SMOOTHLY AS POSSIBLE, CUTTING AND RUNNING AT THE FIRST HITCH IS NOTHING SHORT OF-”

“ENOUGH!”

Balogun’s newest tirade was flattened by the shout, deep, raw and coming from neither herself or Sins. All eyes turned to its source, Lesifarz, as he brought his eyes up, washing his gaze over each of the people sitting around the table, one at a time.

For several moments there was complete silence in the chamber, then Lesifarz spoke.

“I have just lost the oldest friend I have ever had,” he breathed.

There was a steadiness to his voice which undercut his appearance, and yet it wavered just slightly, too. Equal parts chilling calm and searing rage.

“If we are to discuss what is to come of this, I will not have you descend to the same childish patterns he worked so hard to rid you of. Not now, less than a day after his death.”

That remark redirected both Balogun and Sins’ anger, while Riris and Sorafin seemed to practically glow with relief at the sudden absence of screaming. Sensing that the lull in volume would not last, Karma chose that moment to cut in.

“Now that we’re all settled, could someone please brief me with what is currently known about Sir Tamaias’s death?”

Sins opened her mouth, whether to dismiss or snarkily answer the question, Karma wasn’t sure, however Riris spoke before the woman got the chance.

“I have been told that we are still waiting on another presence, we can begin when he arrive-”

The door was flung open, and every head in the room spun to face it. Standing in the frame was a man with a skin tone just one shade from Karma’s. His tan betrayed him as one from Dewlz, and the white of his hair narrowed that down to Jyptia. Besides that, however, he looked remarkably unremarkable.

Possessing a rounded face which lacked any sharpness or discernable edges, the intruder’s eyes were a light brown and seemed dull with boredom.

Karma had met many Immortals, she knew some chose to model their faces into masks of unspeakable revulsion, striking fear into the hearts of any that beheld them. Others selected unspeakable beauty, to sway the easily swayed and bask in the many advantages sensual appeal brought.

She’d never met one like him, however. His features seemed to have been designed to exactly average specifications, hand-picked to be impossibly standard. There was something quietly unnerving about it, and Karma doubted that eliciting such a response was unintentional on his part.

Without a word, the man entered the room and approached the nearest seat. She’d never seen his face before, and one of his description had certainly not been mentioned to her when she accepted the role of organiser.

No one stopped him, of course. With the power humming about his body, making the air around it practically vibrate as he passed through, there was no mistaking his identity. Besides Reginald Tamaias and Bob Danielz, Ra had been one of only three Demigods present in Bermuda.

As the man took his seat, Riris turned from him to address the rest of the organisers.

“Excellent, now we can begin.”

Karma found herself overwhelmed with the urge to inform the woman that she did not, in fact, decide when they could do anything. Such an impulse stemmed directly from her childish arrogance, however, and she killed it in its infancy.

“Why exactly am I here?”

The question was level and blank, delivered with a voice so flat it seemed designed to put children to sleep. Ra glanced at each of the Immortals across the table after asking it, even resting his gaze on Karma for a moment.

He received no immediate answer, and, seeing her opportunity, Karma spoke.

“Because a Demigod was murdered, and the only way any of my colleagues have of feeling secure is to stand as close as they can to one of two beings in the entire city with more magical power than him. It was either you or Bob Danielz.”

There was a sort of mad glee in bringing attention to the Immortals’ fear and insecurity, and Karma felt a rush as she kicked them down from a podium they’d likely spent longer than any of them could remember standing atop. The sight of their discomfort was icing on the cake.

It was far from her sole motivation, of course. Karma had wounded their pride and sewn the necessary seeds to make the Sieve’s ongoing status a matter of their own courage. Such a gaugh manipulation was unlikely to come to fruition, but if nothing else it would set the other organisers off balance.

Karma liked it when her competitors were off balance.

“Moving onto the topic at hand,” Sins cut in, “I think we should first go over what we know about the… incident.”

Zilch became the focus of every gaze in the room, save for Ra’s, at her words. The fae stared bug-eyed around the room, his nerves apparently frayed enough that the moment it took him to realise why he was receiving the attention was enough for him to begin trembling anew.

“As most of you know, it is my duty to interface with the Quanturn located in Bermuda…”

His voice shook as much as his body, each word rapidly wavering in tone and articulation as his vocal cords spasmed with fear. Gulping, the vaguely human-shaped mass of paranoid tendencies and manic anxiety continued.

“I was able to see the battle, or at least part of it, due to this fact. Most of the combat was… well, Immortal speed. As I have no enhanced reflexes or perception of time, I couldn’t register most of the images being displayed to me. However I was able to see the killer, and the killing blow for that matter.”

He swallowed.

“It was Bob Danielz, the butcher.”

***

Bermuda had not lined up with Flint’s expectations. Granted he’d never actually entered a real city, or at least not one without a row of sandbags bisecting each street, but the tales he’d heard of the place had made it sound like some fairytale utopia.

The cities were big, he had to admit, but there were no gold-paved roads. Perhaps more importantly, the air reeked of misery and fear. The kind which came from people who weren’t sure they’d survive the day. People who’d seen something awful happen to others and received no guarantee that they wouldn’t be next.

It was surprisingly comforting. There was no place like home, after all.

Making his way to the Crux had been difficult, though thankfully not impossible. The streets seemed emptier than Flint would have expected from such a huge place, and it occurred to him that the absurdly large and numerous buildings were likely packed to bursting.

He found his way around eventually through sheer, brute persistence. Having been informed on his trip that “crux” meant “centre” did, however, simplify things.

***

“And how exactly do you propose we arrest a Demigod? A butcher Demigod, no less!” Sneered Balogun, seemingly revelling in the absurdity of Sorafin’s suggestion. Before the man could reply, Sins made herself heard.

“We don't need to arrest Danielz ourselves. The Unixian Alliance need only be called, they can dispatch a strong enough force to bring him in. All that matters is that we remain alive until such time as that can happen.”

“I agree with Lady Sins,” Riris breathed coolly. “Our priority should be ensuring the truth makes its way to the Alliance. We must focus on defending ourselves from another likely attack, and contacting Prince Gangorah with what we know.”

That started another discussion about how best to do so in light of the monolith responsible for the functionality of Bermuda’s resonance stones having been destroyed in the clash, as well as no small amount of speculation as to whether or not that would have been intentional.

Karma found herself occupied with other details. Zilch had seen the finishing blow fall, he’d seen Danielz clearly, for moments. Why? Surely the butcher would have had nothing to gain from remaining so still, in fact it served only to… to make it easier for outside observers to identify him.

“And what exactly are we to do to keep ourselves safe from Danielz? Simply remain by the side of fifty other Immortals at all times?”

Once again, the question was from Balogun. Karma looked up as Sins shot back.

“The only way we can guarantee safety, or even come close to a guarantee, is if we flee Bermuda.”

The woman had a point, Karma had to admit. One didn’t dig their heels in and defend against a Demigod. From the feel of the room, she could see the other organisers begin to be swayed by the logic of her position.

She had to act fast.

“Before we make any drastic decisions,” Karma cut in, “might it not be best to make sure that Danielz is, in fact, responsible?”

Riris and Sorafin showed immediate confusion at her words, Sins and Balogun, contemptuous mockery, Lesifarz remained silent and withdrawn and Zilch paled even further. Ra’s head remained down, his expression hidden.

Perhaps predictably, the first to answer was Zilch himself.

“Of course he’s responsible, I saw him do the deed myself!” The bald man erratically barked, eyes practically bulging in his skull-like head.

Karma relished in taking a moment before answering, confident, for the first time in a while amidst such company, that she could afford to do so.

“Exactly, you saw someone capable of faster movement than an unaugmented eye could possibly track. I don’t know about anyone else, but I would prefer we not act on the assumption that Danielz was merely in the mood to take dozens of times as long to finish Tamaias off than was necessary.”

No immediate reply came from that, not even from Sins, but Karma noticed the sudden shift in each of the organisers, and the atmosphere around them. They were considering her words, if nothing else.

“And what exactly are you suggesting we conclude from this information, Alabaster?”

The question was from Riris, and it was as without barbs as it was mercy. Looking into those brown eyes was like staring down one of the obstacles courses she’d been forced to complete in order to earn breakfast in her youth.

“I am suggesting that there is at least one detail which is wildly inconsistent with the conclusion we have already drawn,” Karma answered, careful to keep her voice and face neutral and cool. “Such a thing compels me to investigate, rather than ignore it and act based on the vacuum it leaves.”

“YOU WOULD HAVE US WASTE TIME ON INVESTIGATION AND SPYING WHILE A BUTCHER IS AFTER US?” Zilch barked, finally showing colour on his boney face, albeit mostly burning red fear.

Karma paused a moment before answering, relishing the Immortals’ focuses.

“I would have us spend time to ensure that a butcher is, in fact, after us, rather than risk provoking him when he isn’t. Or have you all forgotten that the Danielz family have, for all their brutality, an exceptional record of professionalism and meticulousness when it comes to their contracts.”

The professor leaned back, eyes looking like they might burst free of his sockets. He began stuttering something, though the shaking of his voice made it impossible to tell exactly what.

“It’s all well and good to say the butchers will fulfil their contract,” Sorafin began, “but we all know they have a history of being… overzealous.”

He meant Balisphore, of course. Karma fully believed that the city’s destruction had been ordered by the Factions as a way of ending the war, but the official stance was that Jack Danielz had simply been given too much freedom and done so of his own volition. There was no evidence to dismiss or support the story.

If Sorafin wanted to use the official statement as his weapon, Karma would happily turn it against him.

“Yes,” she answered. “And that was the event which made the Alliance realise how important it was to keep their executioner restrained. Since then, no Danielz has strayed from their orders in any consequential way.”

Consequential, of course, meant killing those of high rank in the Unixian Alliance. Influential Immortals or regional Viceroys. It was true, none had died to rogue butchery in centuries. Many “smaller” people had, upon getting in their way. But she imagined that such individuals would fail to register in the eyes of her colleagues.

Sorafin seemed thoughtful at that, and Karma took the chance to press her advantage.

“Danielz himself mentioned to us that a butcher had registered in the Sieve, yes? We’ve seen the girl fight, and it seems she fully intends not to be a disruptive element-”

Balogun cut in.

“Unless she’s simply waiting for a greater opportunity to do so.”

Karma had no way to directly counter that, and so instead she chose to sidestep it.

“Which can neither be proven nor disproven, unlike the Butchery’s denizens historically having no interest in interfering with such events.

Besides, if Danielz had been planning on massaccaring the Sieve’s organisers, why would he go out of his way to place himself on our radar?”

“Perhaps he never planned to do so, and merely slew Tamaias on a whim.”

Surprisingly, the suggestion came from Lesifarz. As Karma turned to meet the man’s eyes, she saw something new in them. A great, trembling fury animating every cell in his body, as though he had enveloped himself in magic.

How close she’d been to forgetting that he had lost a friend, and was hearing discussion of the killer’s motivations. It was a wonder he hadn’t rushed from the room to avenge Tamaias himself.

Could the prospect of fighting a Demigod have stayed such a fury-tightened hand?

“Once more, speculation.” Karma shot back. “I would prefer investigation in the place of such futile mental exercises. If Danielz truly is the culprit, surely we will discover yet more evidence supporting the fact. The killer was hardly careful when hiding his identity, after all.”

“The killer?” Sins sneered. “You speak as though their identity is unsure, when we saw his face ourselves.”

A flicker of irritation sparked within Karma, burning and sizzling out after a few moments as she met the Fable’s narrow-eyed glare. Was she simply playing stupid to antagonise her?

“Appearances can be disguised,” she replied. “Against Zilch’s very human eyes, doing so would be a mere triviality. A candle of magic, compared to the bonfire wielded against Tamaias.”

Karma took no small amount of satisfaction as the blonde fell silent. She turned to the other organisers, meeting each of their eyes, one after another. Allowing the silence to solidify for seconds more, she finally spoke.

“I will volunteer to lead the investigation, if that is required of me. My only aim is to ensure that we act with as much information as we can obtain.”

She leaned back in her seat, telling them with body language in place of words that she had finished. There seemed to be a silent exchange between the other organisers before Balogun finally filled the air with sound anew.

“After considering, I agree with Miss Alabaster.”

Karma hid her smile, as she was sure Balogun hid her grimace. The woman seemed to distrust butchers more than most, and yet her eagerness to avoid jeopardizing Bârëi’s first and only Sieve had, apparently, won her internal battle.

Sins had regained her usual air of prickly indifference as she gave her own answer.

“I am wholly against the notion,” she said.

Apparently agreeing with the unspoken notion to turn the matter into a vote, Lesifarz answered next.

“Miss Alabaster has my full support.”

There was a darkness to the man’s expression as he half-whispered his decision, and Karma was stricken with the suspicion that he was very eager to prove Tamaias’s killer to be someone more viable a target of vengeance than Bob Danielz.

“I object to the suggestion,” Zilch muttered. He seemed to have withdrawn, the nervous energy that had so animated him having been replaced with a more subdued paranoia.

“I remain neutral,” Riris breathed. Her face betrayed nothing of her motivations for doing so.

Sorafin was the last to speak, and Karma felt herself on the edge of her seat as she waited for his decision.

“I support the notion,” he said at last. Karma’s lungs deflated in relief.

“It would seem a majority has been reached,” she noted. The looks of irritation on the other organisers' faces told her everything she needed to know. They would stay in Bermuda, and the Sieve would not be without its most integral staff.

Had they any genuine intention of leaving, they’d have shown desperation and rage at someone even slightly inconveniencing such action.

All Karma had to worry about next was ensuring the Sieve itself would continue as normal.