The lights faded slowly into darkness, and Malou closed her eyes as she remembered Haddou’s story from only a few nights ago. I want you to become aware of your body—aware of how your body is being supported by the cushions, the cushions supported by the floor, the floor supported by the ground, she’d said. Clear your mind and be present in the moment. Become aware of the magic inside of you and all around you. Feel how you are alive. Take deep breaths. Feel your chest expand.

The feel of her mother’s bed reminded her of the one her mother had at Eleusis House. The silken feeling of the sheets, the weight of the blankets, the soft scent of lavender accompanied by the softness of the mattress and pillow beneath her. She could only recall having climbed into her mother’s bed a few times. Malou had only slept in it with her once—the day after her father’s death.

Malou sucked in a deep breath. Why did she have to remember all of that right now?

Haddou had said to focus on feeling the balance, the cycle, the relaxation. Allow yourself to be present in this moment. Centered. Experience the here and now. Peaceful and calm. Malou recalled the stairs she’d envisioned before with the door at the bottom. She matched her breathing with each step, trying to ground herself in the feeling of the wood beneath her feet, the light beneath the door below. What’s behind that door is a place you feel safe and loved. Picture that place in your mind.

Would her father be there again? Would she have to say those same words to him again, watch his back as he left her room again, hear the door close again with a finality she hadn’t known back then? The breath she released on the final step was more of a sigh than anything.

“Laure,” Malou whispered, “is Haddou’s way the only way? Do I have to go back to Eleusis House?”

“Just think of it as falling asleep,” Laure offered quickly. Then she said more slowly, “Just think of it as falling asleep. As you’re drifting to sleep, imagine where you want to meet your ancestor. You don’t have to go back to Eleusis House if that’s not where you want to go. Just imagine somewhere else. Imagine it in vivid detail. What it’d look like. What smells or sounds would be there. What it’d feel like to be there. Somewhere you’ll feel safe, where you can move freely and speak freely. I’ll be there with you.”

“Thank you. I’ll try. Worst-case scenario, at least I’ll sleep?”

Laure gave her an unconvinced huff as Malou turned on her side, staring out of the window. It’d stopped snowing, but usually, once it started in Dorenheim, they’d have snow for a few weeks. She’d always loved Tousieux in the winter. Everything was pristine in white—the gardens, the parks, the roofs, the walkways, the tree boughs slouched with snow.

Malou grasped at a vague memory of making countless snow people in her backyard with her father and Gavriel. They’d laid down in it, fanning out their arms and legs to make an impression that’d only last until the next snow. Sometimes they’d roll around a packed snowball until it was big enough to support another stacked on top.

With one more big breath, she let her eyes shut again. “Can you count down from ten for me?”

“Of course.”

For each number, Haddou had said, take a step down. Know that when I reach one, you’ll reach that door, it’ll open for you, and one of your many ancestors will welcome you.

•••

Back in bed at Eleusis House, Malou opened her eyes to find she was already sitting up, already watching her father’s back as he left again. She should be thankful she didn’t have to see that smile of his again, but she tore out of bed and just missed the door handle as it closed. Why was he here again? Why did she have to keep replaying this day?

“Laure?” she whispered as she hurried after the specter of her father down the hall.

“I’m here,” Laure answered, her voice as clear in her ear as ever. “I’m always here.”

Malou thundered down the stairs, and this time, when she reached the bottom, she’d caught up enough to see him glance back for a moment before closing the door behind him. Had he glanced back that night? Had he been hoping she’d followed him down to stop him?

She opened the door as soon as she touched the handle, but outside, there was only endless snow fading into the darkness past the dull glow of the lights inside.

“I’m guessing you didn’t imagine the yard,” Laure said. “I thought you didn’t want to come back here?”

“How are you even here?” Malou countered.

“So you did imagine the yard? Very inspired. And it’s because I’m magic. We’ve been over this. Are you going to step back inside? Didn’t you want to meditate?”

She shut the door and pressed her back against it, only to face her mother again. Maybe her mother had been downstairs that night after all. She stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe between the entryway and living room. She wore an amused expression that Malou hadn’t seen on her mother’s face in a long time.

“You’re not my mother,” Malou said.

“Correct,” her ancestor said, their voice almost jarringly husky compared to what Malou was used to hearing out of her mother’s mouth. “Your name?”

Why couldn’t it be her father? “Malou. What can I call you?”

“I’ll tell you if you manage to win against me. Let’s talk in the living room. I want to know you better before I decide what we’ll do here.” Her ancestor gestured Malou to follow and strode across the living room as if familiar with the place. Their gait exuded certitude, each step deliberate and assured, rather than the regality her mother held.

Since her ancestor sat in the nearest armchair, Malou took the far one across from them. “This is my first time, so I’m not sure how this all works. I heard that we’ll play some kind of game that’ll help me practice using magic?”

“Every time will be as if it is your first because every ancestor is different, and we choose to leave different legacies behind. We will eventually play a little game, but for me, I like to start with a little chat.” They crossed one leg over the other and relaxed in the armchair. “First, you were talking to someone. Yourself?”

Malou took a big breath. There was no point in lying to this person because they couldn’t pass along any secrets anyway. She tugged on her ear. “No, I was talking to Laure. She’s an artificially intelligent personal assistant programmed into my earring. Though she’s more than that now. She says she’s magic.”

Laure scoffed. “The way you just said that was very uncalled for.”

Her ancestor’s eyebrows lifted. “I’ll have you elaborate on that in a moment.” She circled her finger in the air. “Where is this, who came down the stairs just now, and why am I here in your mother’s image?”

“Should I make us some tea?”

“So this is, in fact, your first time.” Her ancestor balanced an elbow on the arm of the chair and rested their head against their hand. Their tone was ridiculously flat. “This is all your imagination. Even I’m a figment of your imagination. Just imagine some tea for us if you want it. Now, answer my questions, Malou.”

She entwined her fingers tightly in her lap. Her ancestor reminded her more of Professor Haddou than her mother. “This is my childhood home. I haven’t been back here since my father died. That was who came down the stairs. The reason you’re my mother I’d suppose is because she was also here. The last time I meditated, Laure was the one looking like my mother.”

“That is how it works, generally, with sahiri—what you call magic—still sealed away,” her ancestor explained. “Less ambient sahiri to support the longevity of imprints left by ancestors like me upon our deaths. Your imagination does the rest of the work.”

Maybe this was what Haddou had meant. Ancestors like your dad, yes, she’d said, but many, many others who have left an imprint through magic in your blood or on your soul. It’d be him but not him. Except that her father also appeared in this house, so didn’t that leave some hope?

“So why your mother?” her ancestor continued. “What is your relationship with her?”

“Terrible,” Malou answered. Then her ancestor motioned her to keep going, so she turned her attention to her fisted hands. “She’s always leaving me. After my father died, she moved us to Tousieux University, and I don’t think she spent the night more than a handful of times there. She left for another region last week without me as well, though I suppose I turned down her invitation to go with her.”

“Why? Why is she always leaving you and why did you turn her down when it bothers you so much that she left? About how old are you?”

Malou gave them a dry look. “I recently turned twenty. Why did she leave? Apparently, Mother Dearest has been off leading a criminal organization she started with my father that I didn’t know anything about until my best friend told me recently. She thought it was dangerous for her to stay here. Not like she was wrong about that. But I couldn’t go with her. I had to return something—” She clenched her jaw. “I had to return half of the Teir to Tousieux.”

Her ancestor blinked hard, uncrossed their legs, and sat forward. “Is the Teir still at Tousieux?”

Should she tell them? Malou hesitated for a moment, listening for Laure to stop her from saying, but her personal assistant stayed quiet. “I have it—her. The Teir is Laure.”

Her ancestor studied Malou with a hard, sharp gaze. They set their elbows on their knees, pressed their fingertips together. “What did your mother think made it so dangerous to stay that she fled to another region? Does it have to do with Laure?”

“Indirectly, perhaps. She didn’t tell me what made it dangerous. She only implied that we had no protection at Tousieux or with our family from whoever was responsible for my grandfather’s untimely death.” Raking her fingers into her curls, Malou stood and started to pace.

“Surely, you have a guess. Or at least Laure has one.”

Malou nodded, though she wanted to ask how this conversation was relevant to the training she came here to do. “We think she may have been talking about this senator who’s both possibly after the Teir and my family’s political influence. We’re assuming he wants the Teir to craft the perfect plan to usurp the throne, but his attempt to steal it from Tousieux failed because of me.”

“Another one of those types.” Her ancestor’s gaze wandered from Malou, and they slid their tongue across their front teeth. “So you and this senator are from patrician families?”

“Yes,” Malou confirmed. “My aunt engaged her thirteen-year-old daughter to a twenty-six-year-old man with a poor reputation tonight. So whatever plan he currently has likely includes assassinating the Crowned Consul then using his connections—including his new alliance with my family—to support his ascendance. My mother’s supposed criminal organization intends to prevent this from happening, so she probably left so that he couldn’t go after her easily. This is a man who possibly killed my grandfather.” She stopped pacing to grip the fireplace mantle as a harrowing realization dawned on her. “And even possibly my father.”

Why was this hitting her so hard now? She’d already connected Senator de Klijn to Professor Brosch’s death, so concluding that he was responsible for her father’s murder and the disappearance of all the other professors who’d been protecting the Teir was only logical. Her mother had said Tousieux wasn’t safe, which meant she’d had some idea that the senator was after the Teir along with his plan to assassinate the Crowned Consul.

“This bothers you,” her ancestor observed, “quite a lot.”

“Of course,” Malou said. “Wouldn’t it bother you? The senator has taken two people from me now, not to mention countless professors whose duty was only to protect the Teir. They didn’t deserve to die. Murdered by some back-room conniving megalomaniac without a single significant achievement to his name besides being born into a patrician family. At least Grandfather Claude worked tirelessly for the welfare of the empire’s people. And my father—he dedicated his life to keeping the Teir safe from such a foul, loathsome person.”

“What is death, though?” They leaned back and crossed their arms over their chest. Malou had never seen her mother assume this position, nor had she ever seen this openly scrutinizing expression on her face before. Their head was lowered a fraction, their eyes piercing even in the low light of the fireplace’s false flames.

She sat again and held her arms, diverting her attention to the fireplace. “Death is the end of someone’s life and the taking away of that person from those who love them.”

“Death is natural,” her ancestor said. “Death is as natural as life. When you die, your body returns to nature while your soul is reincarnated. Your grandfather and your father are alive, just not in the flesh right here and right now. The sahiri that gave them life, however, is all around you all the time. We live within you. I’m here, after all. Do you not know this?”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I want someone I love to die or to be the cause of someone else’s death.” Malou swallowed hard, pinching her eyes closed. “I’ve already killed two people. I don’t want more death in my life.”

“So?” Her ancestor grunted. “You’re speaking with a dead assassin, Malou. You don’t want more death in your life? What are you so afraid of? Why is it that you’re here?”

“I want to protect everyone I love.” Malou tightened her hold on her arms. “Is it so bad that I don’t want to kill? Is it so bad to be afraid? Is it so bad that I’m here to prevent more death?”

“So you’re afraid the people you love will die like your father and your grandfather.”

“No,” Malou said. Too quickly that even she knew it was a lie. She clenched her jaw. “Maybe. I don’t know. For my cousin, I’m just worried she’ll be made an adult before she’s ready. For Laure, I’m worried that she could be taken from me.”

“But you’re not willing to do whatever it takes to protect them if you’re not willing to kill for them. Who is it that you want to protect the most? Laure, perhaps? Or this cousin of yours?”

Her mind flashed to Gavriel, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. He could take care of himself, but she couldn’t let him get hurt or die from something she dragged him into. She’d promised her father. She’d promised Gavriel. They’d promised each other right in this very room, in front of this same fireplace.

If her father and her mother were here, didn’t that mean Gavriel would be upstairs sleeping in his room? She glanced at the ceiling where his bedroom would be. The furthest room from hers in the front of the house. A bed, an armoire, a desk in dark wood. Had her father woken him up to say he was leaving as well? Had he fallen back asleep like her?

The stairs creaked, and dread coiled in her gut. She stood without thinking when an eleven-year-old Gavriel with bed hair peeked his head into the living room. His small face was all soft lines—rounder cheeks and a rounder jaw—and he hadn’t yet grown into his eyes, nose, and lips. Why did he look smaller than she remembered?

“Your imagination is quick to respond,” her ancestor said. They locked eyes with her, and they smirked. “I suppose this can be our game. You must kill me, or I’ll kill him.”

Malou was moving toward Gavriel before she could process exactly what her ancestor had said, but her ancestor was closer to him and faster than her. What game was this? Haddou had said it could be something like Rojagat or hand-to-hand combat, but this was essentially a death match. If only she could stop time. If only she’d practiced making someone else as immaterial. The only thing she could do was throw up a shield and hope it’d be strong enough to defend Gavriel against her ancestor.

Recalling the feeling of magic surging through her, that heightened feeling of awareness and familiar power enveloped her instantly. Not warm or hot—just a sharp static against her senses that she branched outward into white threads like lightning. She managed to weave them together into thick bands around Gavriel just in time to take her ancestor’s fist. Then she closed the distance between them, tackling her ancestor when they went in for another punch.

“Run!” she ordered Gavriel as her ancestor shoved her off them as if she weighed nothing. Her back hit the first stair hard between her shoulder blades and sent a shock of pain down her spine that made her growl.

“Are you alright?” Laure asked, concern tense in her voice. "This isn't what I'd hoped for your first meditation. You don't have to do this—"

“I'm fine.” Malou scrambled to her feet with magic pulsing through her with a vengeance. Her ancestor was already up, already racing toward Gavriel who’d fled to the dining room. They had to be using magic to make them stronger and faster, and they were better at it than she was.

“Any injury you get while meditating will linger in the real world,” Laure told her, “even if the injury isn’t visible. If you're determined to play this game, please be as careful as you can.”

How could she be careful? There may be no winning this game, but she couldn’t stop herself from flinging the shield around Gavriel again as her ancestor drove her fist toward his head. He looked terrified, helpless. Even if he was just an image conjured from memory and imagination, her entire being ached to protect him.

The shield caved in from the force of her ancestor’s punch. Gavriel’s frightened scream seemed to pierce through to her soul. They must’ve reinforced their strength even more in an attempt to break through it to get to him. Unless she could quickly calculate how much stronger it needed to be, it probably wouldn’t hold up for a third hit.