Part VII

The Girl Who Would Be Queen

Chapter 01 — Of Melody and Magic

In a living room somewhere near Tacoma next to a roaring fire, a god and his lover were having a fight.

"I told her no!"

"But you still want to."

"Is it a bad thing now, to want to save people's lives? Even with the alert, even with the news media on our side and everything, people are still idiots. They're trying to awaken."

"And you can't persuade Beverly to change her mind?"

"She's fixed on the idea that it's better if she doesn't give them false hope. I don't know if it's true or not, but what she wanted isn't happening. Like I said, they're still trying, and it's not just because they're stupid. There's bad actors out there, people convincing them it's actually okay. It just takes one rumor, one meme, one convincing comment on the internet, and we've got another body in the dirt."

"So what do you propose?"

"That we get out there! If we make it clear there's a proper way, the rumors lose power. Right now, everybody's in a lurch, since they've never been totally clear on how to awaken anyway. The closest anyone's gotten to a full explanation was the leaked version of Cinza's diaries floating around on torrents."

"A lurch?"

"Are you serious right now? You're going to criticize my diction?"

"I was—"

"You two are both being insane. Yes, I told her exactly what we always believed, but I can't believe that's really best anymore. Can't there be a way to help people without making myself out to be some sort of god? Hailey's doing it."

"Hailey is being treated like a goddess anyway, despite her words."

"Sure, but she's not acting like one. So why can't I do the same? We're letting the world slide into chaos, and I might be able to do something about it."

"You wanted to stay out. What changed?"

"People are dying, that's what changed! It's not just internal anymore, either. This isn't just Omega attacking the other awakened, Cinza trying to overthrow the council, or any of the other squabbles. We had a terrorist group of mundane people trying to commit genocide."

"And—"

"And that creates feuds. Blood feuds, the kind that people never back down from. We saw it at home, too. The Harrisons and the Prices. You can't ever take back or forgive death. Cinza's preaching peace, but it's not going to stick."

"...So what do you propose to do to stop it?"

"Haven't you been listening? I should already be out doing something right now! I've got authority, I have influence, and I can awaken people. We can save them. We can help restart the new world."

"Or we can stay back and let them handle it. The new world is already in motion. Natalie saw to it."

"You'd let a thirteen year old girl carry that kind of weight?"

"Haven't we already?"

"I'm trying to say I'm not okay with this anymore. Why can't you hear me?"

"So do something about it. You're an adult. Why do you need my approval?"

"Because I… I still love you. We're in this together. Aren't we?"

"Right."

"...That's it? You're just going to… brush me off?"

"I think you're being irrational and failing to see the bigger picture. We forecasted this. You knew it was a possibility. Perhaps not at this scale, but after you and Omega destroyed the book, Beverly was always going to be the final point of failure. Nothing's changed."

"How can you say that?"

"How can you be so foolish?"

"I… I can't do this anymore."

"So leave, then."

A door slammed. The fire crackled away, but in that room in Tacoma, everything was suddenly much colder and darker than only a few minutes before.

On December thirty-first, two thousand eighteen—the same day as Felix Wieczorek's bail hearing, though none in the camp would hear of it until the next round of mail came in—Zoë Portman felt love for the first time.

At least, she assumed it was love. Zoë was twenty-one years old, and despite several relationships since fourteen, none of them had ever quite clicked. There was some unnameable quality, some immutable trait which defined a close loving relationship, and Zoë had just never recognized it with any of her partners.

As the New Year approached, there was a tingle in the air. It wasn't just the aura of magic, either. Zoë was very familiar with the aura by now—everybody awakened in the Olympic Forest could tell instantly when they'd entered the blackout zone, as the public was now calling it. Zoë preferred the "Hendricks Zone", though. The forest wasn't blacked out, not even slightly. It was alive, more alive than it had ever been, with magical power filling every stone, every branch, every twig and leaf, butterfly and squirrel.

No, the tingle in the air wasn't just magic. It was excitement. This was the first New Year celebration, and everyone knew the Greycloaks were coming to celebrate it.

"Come on!" shouted one person, rushing past Zoë in their haste to the north end of the camp, where a wide open area stood. Zoë briefly reminded herself to come up with a better name for their home than simply "the camp", though of course, that was what they'd stuck to. "We gotta get a good spot!"

Since the Ritual—again, Zoë couldn't bring herself to call it a blackout—the Greycloaks had begun to show themselves more frequently in the camp. First, it was Cinza herself, accompanied by her two lieutenants as always. She mostly came to see the National Guard commander, rarely joined by the non-Greycloak Josh Miller. Zoë liked him a lot, that Captain Hoskins. He'd put a lot of work into improving their home, well past his original mandate to root out Brian Hendricks' group.

As the weeks went by, more of the Greycloaks filtered through, usually just to spend time with the pilgrims. Zoë always meant to get their names… but she'd never dared to approach any of them. Normally, Zoë didn't have a problem with social situations—her current fling could attest to that—but something about the Greycloaks kept her at bay.

Maybe it was because she didn't consider herself a pilgrim. After all, Zoë had already awakened before she came to the camp. Hell, she hadn't even wanted to come. When the guns started firing, she'd had a few words to say about that.

Nah, she decided. It's because they're still really creepy.

Zoë was a skeptic, through and through. She hadn't believed in magic for a single moment all year, no matter the rumors. The videos of Hailey Winscombe? Obviously fakes. Lakewood? There were explosives found, and nobody actually recorded Hailey flying there. Cinza's leaked diaries? Who wasn't trying to push their own conspiracy theory about what happened to Rallsburg?

And then, quite suddenly toward the end of November, Zoë Portman was a very firm believer in magic.

"Hey," she said aloud, poking the other occupant of her tent. "Sleepy-bones."

"Nngh."

"Didn't you want to go to the thing?"

"What thing?"

"The show. The Greycloaks are gonna do a New Years thing."

"I'm sleeping."

"It's the first ever Magic New Years," said Zoë, grinning slightly. "You wanna miss that?"

"Oh, okay," she said finally. Her voice was floaty and soft, and it wasn't just because she was so tired. "...Where's my bra?"

Zoë rolled her eyes. "Come on, just go without. It's not gonna be that long."

"But I—"

"You'll be under a blanket anyway!"

She twisted around under the sheet to look up at Zoë. Her long eyelashes fluttered, dark brown eyes alight with mischievous excitement. "Will you be under it with me?"

Zoë's face heated up. "Yeah, I will."

"Okay, okay." The other girl started to move, gathering up her clothes one by one—but still far too slow for Zoë's liking.

"Come on," she said impatiently. "Nobody knows when they're going to start."

"Could use some incentive..." said the girl pointedly.

Zoë winced. "Okay, umm…" She thought for a few moments as the girl very slowly, very carefully pulled on a t-shirt. She's gonna make me do something crazy if I don't pick fast. "If we leave in the next thirty seconds, I'll… I'll be naked under the blanket with you."

In an instant, she'd thrown on the shirt and jeans. Her belt was already around her waist before Zoë could even blink. By the time she'd caught up to what was happening, the other girl was the one dragging Zoë out of the tent by her arm, thick camping blanket already in hand.

She grinned. "No take backs!"

Zoë laughed. She didn't really mind. In her years at college, Zoë had done crazier things. There was just something… different about the camp. Ever since they'd arrived, most of her exhibitionist qualities—though they paled in comparison to her companion—had completely died off.

Maybe it's 'cause they call themselves 'pilgrims'. Makes this place feel kinda religious. I hear they used to have a preacher who lived near here, way back. Wonder if he was Presbyterian.

She'd never been actively religious, but Zoë did believe in God. It was one of the few things she had in common with her companion. Sometimes, it made her laugh—one of the few connections they'd made had been over the one thing everybody assumed would keep them apart. Old religious precepts died hard, after all.

God knew better though. Zoë was grateful she'd met her.

"So what do you think it's gonna be?" asked her companion, as they neared the gathering crowd to the north. Zoe looked up at the clocktower—a hastily constructed heap of stone and metal, atop which a clock in magically illuminated digits displayed the current time, based on some of the purely mechanical watches owned by the camp. It was getting toward midnight, but not there just yet.

They slowed down, and her companion made a beeline for an open space toward one side backed up against an overgrown RV, where they could have at least a little privacy.

Zoë shrugged. "No idea."

"Didn't they tell you anything?"

"I just heard it from somebody else." Zoë glanced over her shoulder at one of the tents they'd just passed. "While I was out… you know."

"Chatting up the bar?"

"Learning." Magic, she added mentally, though she knew better than to say it aloud.

"Learning about a handsome guy?"

Zoë sighed. "I told you I'm not bi anymore."

She laughed, and it was a sweet laugh which sent little bursts of warmth straight through to Zoë's toes. "Have I corrupted you that much?"

"Says the one who didn't like girls."

Her face lit up with a pure, innocent smile. "Well, we hadn't met yet!"

"You weren't the first girl I dated, you know."

"Ooh, do tell."

"Back when I was in a band—"

She dropped the blanket dramatically—though in truth, they'd really just reached the spot she'd picked out. Her hands slapped to her cheeks. "You were in a band?"

"Yes?"

"What did you play?"

"The hurdy-gurdy."

She froze. "...What?"

"The drums, duh," said Zoë, rolling her eyes. "I don't have any talent. At all."

"Don't say that," she said as Zoë sat down next to her and huddled close. It was deep December, after all, and while the camp was unusually warmer than had been forecast, it was winter. Her companion's voice had gotten softer, more serious. "You have talent. It takes skill to play drums, too."

"Eh." It was just… boring.

"Well, what about your art?"

"I was gonna drop my major anyway."

"What? But I thought you were doing really well!"

Zoë sighed. "I dunno. It just… doesn't feel like me anymore."

Her companion put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry. You'll figure it out. I believe in you."

"Pull the blanket tighter," said Zoë, trying to change the subject. "So I can make it warm."

"Huh?"

"It's really hard to do," she said patiently. Her companion couldn't really understand it, of course. "So if the blanket's tight and we don't let air escape, we can trap the warmth in and I don't have to keep the spell going."

"Oh. So, physics."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Don't you have something to do first?" she pointed out, smirking.

Zoë sighed exaggeratedly. She slid under the blanket, then—as best she could—stripped off every piece of clothing she was wearing, down to nothing but skin. Next to her, she could feel her companion doing the same. They took the two piles and set them against the base of the RV, to use as makeshift pillows.

"Now will you pull the blanket in?" asked Zoë, trying to suppress a giggle. Between the chilly air and the fact they were both naked behind the crowd of people, she felt an odd giddiness to the whole thing. She was having trouble taking anything seriously.

"I could just make you warm myself," said her companion. A finger traced its way across Zoë's chest, weaving circles before descending down her stomach.

"The thing's starting," said Zoë frantically, before she made a more… involuntarily sound. To her relief, it wasn't a lie, either. Something was happening.

"Later," she breathed into Zoë's ear, promising all sorts of pleasant feelings that night after the festivities. As she settled down, her voice returned to normal. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you!" she said cheerfully, and suddenly, her whole body was pressed into Zoë's grasp. Zoë was quite a bit taller than her companion, and she fit perfectly into the space made by the curve of Zoë's body. "I wouldn't want to be here with anyone else in the whole world."

She didn't answer aloud. I wish I felt the same. But, of course, Zoë hadn't ever felt love. Not yet, anyway. Her companion was certainly the closest she'd ever felt to someone, but there was still some enigmatic quality yet to be found.

Instead, Zoë wrapped her arms around her companion tight, and together under the blanket, they watched as a faint light began to appear from within the trees.

It was just a single light at first, plain and unremarkable, except that it had no source. It wasn't fire, and it obviously couldn't be electric, so the only answer was something chemical or otherwise produced in nature. But, of course, this was nothing natural. Like Cinza always said, magic wasn't natural, and there was no reason to want it to be.

The light grew, moment by moment, sliding forward through the trees. As the crowd noise died away from the hundred or so people gathered across the field, they heard a faint noise drifting through the trees. A flute sang alone, played with masterful skill, though none of them recognized the tune. It was joined by another, and then another. The light danced in tandem with each note, getting brighter and larger as the music hit a crescendo.

A crash of a cymbal somewhere. Strings joined the flute. It might have been a violin, or maybe a cello, she wasn't sure. The light burst, becoming hundreds of tiny individual specks. They shifted in color, a kaleidoscope in the air, filling the field. Fog rolled through the illuminated space, white despite the many colors of the lights surrounding it.

As the music swelled, the fog began to take shape, flowing as if a faint wind blew through the space, though the air was quite still all around them. A huge stage formed above them, with smokey curtains over a wide open floor. Every single light converged on the stage, filling the borders with twinkling spots of color, while the center became brilliantly illuminated.

In time with another crash of the cymbals, the curtains pulled open wide—and behind them, a huge image appeared, like a movie projected into the sky itself, though of course, this was no movie.

How the hell are they managing to do this? Zoë wondered to herself. Nobody in the Greycloaks is a true awakened. Last we heard, Hailey was on the other side of the country, so it's not her either. This is incredible.

Wrapped in her arms, Zoë's companion was thoroughly enjoying the show. She squirmed pleasantly around, twisting her head to try and catch the whole dazzling spectacle above them. Zoë might have enjoyed it quite a lot, if her head wasn't stubbornly caught on trying to solve the mystery of how it was cast in the first place.

She considered sending out her own essence to test the spell, but she'd just learned that technique only a day before. If she screwed it up somehow, interfered in the big show… yeah, that'd really suck.

The stage performance was underway. It wasn't a movie after all—this was a full three-dimensional performance. Actors, outlines wreathed in smoke, spun and danced across the stage, while the backdrop displayed incredible pieces of artwork. It took a minute for Zoë to understand the story, for there weren't any words, just the ongoing orchestra medley swelled to fill the whole space, though she knew there weren't possibly enough Greycloaks to surround the whole camp.

"It's Rallsburg," Zoë murmured.

"Huh?"

She went on, since her companion hadn't really done much research on the history of the place. Zoë had—mostly with the intention to disprove the whole conspiracy as a farce—and now it paid off, as she could explain the story Cinza was obviously trying to convey.

"Back when they were first discovering magic. Those three are the original Three Gods."

"Alpha, Omega, and Grey-eyes," said her companion, nodding slightly. Her chin tapped against Zoë's arms with each movement.

"Right. They're fighting over the Grimoire." As Zoë murmured the story, the figures of fog up on the stage moved in perfect time to her words, as if Cinza could hear her and was enacting the very scenes she described.

A huge burst of fire shot through the sky, projected from the outstretched hand of Alpha. It took a brief moment for the heat wave to crash down into the crowd below. The fight continued, though the electricity strikes Zoë expected weren't recreated perfectly, just approximations by a flash of light and a jagged line through the air.

On the opposite side, Omega created his golems—and more than a few people gasped. It may have been a month prior, but the memories were still fresh in their minds. Several had lost loved ones to Brian Hendricks, after all.

"This is the Council of the Awakened," continued Zoë in her companion's ear, hugging her close. "That's Rachel DuValle, and Natalie Hendricks is there in the corner."

"And there's Cinza and Josh," added her companion, pointing.

Zoë squinted. "Doesn't really look like him."

She giggled. "It's smoke, Zoë. Give them a break. It's close enough."

"Fine. For you," said Zoë, and kissed the top of her head.

The play continued, through the entire story of Rallsburg as told by Cinza. Zoë had heard some of the Greycloak leader's recollections weren't accurate, or were missing important bits of information, but she had to admit, the cultist-in-chief was an excellent storyteller, and a master of the dramatic presentation.

As the town—represented in the sky by a dozen boxy buildings surrounding the recognizable town hall and old library—suddenly lifted from the stage, the lights surrounding the whole stage shifted to an eerie dark red. Zoë tensed, expecting something truly spectacular, and she wasn't disappointed.

As the music played on, the stage burst into a huge firework explosion—and to her shock, it was a real firework. The play had gone without sound, beyond the musical accompaniment, so the sudden loud boom rippled through the crowd. More followed, until finally, as the crescendo of music and explosions reached its peak… everything froze.

A single beam of light shone down onto the field, where a platform had been erected. Must have done it while we were all looking up, Zoë mused, impressed. Another light appeared, and then another, until the figure on the wooden stage was made clear.

Cinza pulled back the hood on her head, lifted her eyes to the crowd, and raised her voice. Magic amplified it a dozen times over, echoing in her typical ethereal style, perfectly audible yet totally unnatural.

"Welcome to two thousand nineteen," she proclaimed.

Nobody was quite sure how to respond. After all, the Rallsburg story hadn't ended with the victory, but with the destruction of the town, the lowest point where everything started to truly fall apart and all hope seemed lost, before Rachel DuValle killed Omega.

"I chose to share this story not to entertain, but to remind. Our memories are often weak, our recollections faulty. The story of Rallsburg was one of chaos and confusion, of schisms which wrought betrayal and wreaked havoc in a once quiet community. We survived, but only through unity."

Cinza gestured to the trees behind her. The lights illuminated the treeline beyond, and one by one, the Greycloaks emerged—some holding their instruments, others simply wreathed in their cloaks, sentinels for the forest beyond.

"Our community has grown. We welcomed all of you into our forest. I do not regret that decision. Any who wish to stay in this camp are free to do so, and so long as it remains within my power, you will be cared for. If you believe as we believe, you may find a more permanent home in the Greywood, living among those who follow her and await her return."

She cleared her throat. "Do not think this means you are any less for not taking our cloaks. Each of you is equally important to our world, Greycloak or not, awakened or otherwise. Everything that has ever happened to us, every death and tragedy, was brought about by the hate of division, the fear of the unknown, and the cruelty of prejudice."

Cinza raised her hands out in front of her, as if to grasp someone else's, though she stood quite alone. "Let's change the story. It's a new year and a new world. Let's build a new world. A better world. Together."

She smiled. "Thank you all for being here. Happy New Year."

Someone began to clap. Another joined them. Soon, a dozen people were on their feet, and more joining them every moment. Even the soldiers were starting to cheer and holler, though they'd usually expressed skepticism about Cinza and her people.

"Kinda wish we weren't naked right now," muttered Zoë.

"Sorry," murmured her companion. "Here. Let me make it up to you."

She twisted around in Zoë's arms. As another firework burst above them and the huge clock towering over the camp read midnight precisely, Melody pressed her lips against Zoë's.

In absolute secret, Zoë was a hopeless romantic. She was secretly a sucker for the big gesture, the sappy ending, the huge waves of emotions crashing in after endless buildup. In that moment, with Melody kissing her after a huge spectacle, after the relief of a nightmarish year finally come to an end, pressed against her skin as literal fireworks burst above them mixed in with displays of real magic… Zoë finally felt it.

She kissed Melody back, and for the first time in her life, Zoë Portman was in love.