Ivy peered out of the window of Rose's home, straining to see past the rows and rows of multi-story buildings that made up the district where she now lived. Out just past where her vision failed her lie the dockside slums. There, at the center of her old life sat her next goal. She had yet to be back dockside since returning to Atrican, but she wasn't going to hide forever. In fact, her plan was to go as big as possible. She had already patronized the royal smithy for a weapon, so why not try for the headquarters of the Bloody Flag.

The Flag held by far the most power of any criminal organization in Atrican. The rumor was that their leader had been a lord of some far off nation across the Great Sea, and he had created the symbol of his guild from the ruined remains of his country’s standard, soaked in the blood of his father who had been king. It made for an awe inspiring story, but she wasn’t sure how many people actually believed it. What mattered was the Bloody Prince’s iron rule, and the fact that nobody questioned him. Since Ivy had been alive, he had been the de-facto ruler of the Atrican underground, and therefore the entire harbor district.

This was the man she now had to impress. If the other rumors about him were true, he hardly left his headquarters, and no one other than his most trusted lieutenants ever saw him. Should be easy, right? Ivy was a witch. She had bested a pair of hunters. What could be hard about a few street thugs? She kept telling herself that, but had yet to get her butt off of Rose’s sofa and make the attempt. Rose’s disapproving glares whenever she returned home hadn’t helped. The older witch had glanced many times at Ivy’s new pointy accessory bound at her hip, but said nothing.

Ivy knew that if she was going to target the Bloody Prince himself, she would have to utilize her power in some way, yet keep it hidden at the same time. Her particular power could achieve that, the trouble was finding out how. Her plan started and ended at sneaking into the Prince’s private chambers which she hoped would be enough to prove herself to him, it was just figuring out how to put that into action.

Stepping through the witch world would allow her to get inside. She didn’t doubt that after escaping from the hunters. But when she had ran from them, her movements were random and reactionary. She had simply panicked to get as far as way as possible. Pinpointing a location—one of which she didn’t even know of—was beyond her.

Day after day she spent just trying to understand Rose’s couch in the witch world. She had spent many days passed out in its fluffy embrace. Today would likely be no different. She was on her knees in front of the couch without her power activated. Slowing her breathing, she dropped into a trance, one hand over her chest, listening.

The witch world came faster and faster these days, and soon the colorless madness rewrote the world in her eyes. Her once beautiful, plush napping area bent into something that would definitely be painful to lay down on. Its once pillowy cushions warped into mounds of spiky fingers. She tilted her head, and the new perspective shifted all the blurred lines of the spikes, flattening them into concentric, overlapping ovals that extended to either side of her for what seemed like miles. The scene brought about a pain that started at her temples and spread to her forehead. Yet Ivy kept studying the thing, imprinting it into her mind. If she could just recognize—

“Ivy?” Rose’s voice broke through the witch world. “Are you here?”

“The couch,” Ivy said.

“Again?”

Ivy let go of her power, and the natural world returned, her eyes level with the edge of the middle cushion.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?” Rose asked.

“Hey, come here a second.”

Rose sauntered over, leaning down over Ivy.

“What is it?” she asked.

Ivy pointed to the crisp line that made up the top boundary of the cushion.

“What do you see here?”

Rose said nothing for a moment.

“The cushion?”

“Yes! This is a couch!”

Ivy forced herself into the witch world again, and Rose let out a small squeal. The alien form of the couch returned, and though it didn’t quite appear the same as before, it did look like a couch to her. It really did. Finally. Finally at least one thing about her power made sense to her. There was only one question left: could it be comfortable if she sat on it like this regardless of its appearance? Hm.

“This is a couch,” she said again, and then let her power go a second time. “This is a couch!”

Rose was staring down at her with her brows raised.

“Have you been drinking?”

Ivy inclined her head up and pointed a finger at Rose.

“That was one time. And it was your fault for bringing home wine!”

“Ivy you’re maybe a hundred pounds,” Rose said, shaking her head, “and you drink like a dock worker.”

“That’s not my fault either! I was indoctrinated at a young age!”

“You’re still a young age. Don’t worry, we can fix you.”

“I’m not broken!”

Ivy climbed aboard the couch and curled up on the first two cushions. Tomorrow she would go. She would use her power of the knowledge of the couch to conquer the Bloody Prince of the Bloody Flag.

Ivy’s steps kept getting slower and slower as she neared the guild house of the Bloody Flag. What the hell was she doing? What had she been thinking? A couple of years ago the Bloody Prince was like a god to her. The mythical ruler of the Atrican underworld said to rival the governor’s own strength. What would Thom, Quick, and Jack think of her now? She had not thought of her old friends much at all anymore with everything else that had changed in her life, but getting back into this life brought them to the forefront of her mind unbidden.

She shook her head. There was no use getting distracted now. The three-story guild house rose above her on the crowded street at the heart of the harbor district. Most people—dock hands, sailors, slum residents—stuck to one side of the road opposite the guild house, while more shady elements approached or outright entered the ominous structure.

Architecturally it was unimpressive—little more than a drab, dirty inn—but the massive, six foot by twelve foot standard draped across the top floor gave the building another meaning. Stained crimson from its top left corner down an uneven line to about halfway across at the bottom, the otherwise pure white flag held the image of a black lion stitched at its heart. Ivy knew of no such nation’s flag, but this was supposedly the actual flag surrounding the legend of the Bloody Prince.

She had seen it before, of course, but staring up it at now made her wonder if the story was all true. It also made her question yet again why she had resolved to do this. There were any number of guilds she could try. This was crazy just for crazy’s sake. Why was she really doing this? To test her witch powers? There were better ways than committing suicide.

Her mind kept making arguments against her actions, but her body never listened. She followed the road around the perimeter of the building, looking for a weak spot to activate her power. Really just a place where no one was around. If she could enter the witch world undetected close enough to the guild house, she would hopefully find a way inside.

After a couple of circuits of the guild house, it became clear that her conditions would not be met. Not in daylight. There was an alleyway that led to the rear of the structure, but Ivy held no illusions that it would not be guarded as well as watched from above via rooftops. The Bloody Flag did not gain its position through carelessness.

Deciding to wait until sunset, she stopped in a local diner she had once been to when she had lived in the city as a child. She remembered it being one of the better meals she had eaten back then, but when the plate of salted fish and dry rice came to her, she found herself disappointed. The tables were unwashed like the customers, and the whole place stank like old fish. Despite everything, her life had actually improved since becoming a witch. Maybe that just showed how bad she had had it before.

Vowing to hold back on wine for tonight, she passed the time in boredom, periodically ordering more snacks from the waitress to keep her seat. Men came to talk to her as usual these days, but flicking a hand to her blade seemed to ward them off easier than normal. It was a good thing they didn’t know she had little idea how to use it. Eventually the darkness of night came, allowing Ivy to go for another pass at the guild house.

The streets were mostly empty now, workers having gone to taverns to drink their wages away, and thieves out to find new scores. Of course, the Bloody Flag house still had its number of men guarding both high and low, but that wouldn’t matter to Ivy. She just needed to find a deep shadow and slip into the witch world.

Before that, though, she took a look back at her past and compelled herself to consider whether or not she was making the right decision. The memory of the witch hunter’s prison grated at her confidence and she shuddered at the thought of being captured again. Was this really worth potentially exposing herself? Surprisingly, the answer came fast and easy as a resounding “yes.” What good was it possessing the powers of a witch if she could never use them? She ought to get something out of being what she was.

Under a hanging roof of a storage warehouse across from the guild house, she started to count her heartbeats. One, two…ten…twenty. At fifty, her heart filled with strength, and the witch world broke through the boundary keeping reason to her vision. It was the first time since her initial awakening that she had perceived the city through the lens of her power. That had been a mistake. She should have practiced.

Outside, there were simply too many stimuli. Too much information flowed into her; information that threatened to break her mind rather than expand it. Worst of all, there were too many things moving. A stationary scene she could get some handle on. The most she had to deal with previously had been the two witch hunters chasing her. But this?

All the movement kept gnawing away at her sanity, the twisted lines and blurred, broken forms assaulting her from all sides. Dizziness threatened to overtake her, as she spun in several circles, searching for meaning behind anything she could see. The shape of any building, much less the guild house had long been lost to her, but something did stick out. There were more than a dozen quivering figures huddled in close proximity right in front of her. She squinted, concentrating on them as they were the only things keeping her grounded amongst the chaos. Her head pounded with every second, but she leaned forward, and heard a voice. Yes! Her ears still worked just fine. She was too far to make out words, but the idle chatter and occasional laughter had to be the thugs outside the entrance to the guild house. All she needed to do was—

And then she saw it. There it was. The greatest sight of all. Couch. Above and behind the squirming masses of insectoid monster humans sat her greatest and most comfy friend. Mister Couch. There he was, waiting for her in all his fluffy glory. All she had to do to reach him was follow the lines that led to him. Easy.

She strode along the twisting curves of the witch world, hearing voices of the guild mates as she passed.

“The Prince has—”

“…new woman tonight—”

“How’s the—”

“God damnit!”

In only a few moments she stood before Mister Couch and looked down. It wasn’t right. The lines of the cushion were all wrong. This wasn’t her couch. It was a cheap imitation. How dare it lure her in like this. It deserved to be—

“Place more men in the markets,” a deep voice said, “income is low from that district. We need more. We’re close now.”

Ivy turned her head and saw a new pair of vibrating forms. There was no way she could recognize them or even comprehend what they might represent, and so she decided to test her theory of the witch world couch, and took a seat. She grated against the hard, uneven surface, frowning at its inadequacy.

“I’ll find the men, your highness,” a second voice said, and tottered out of sight.

Ivy studied the remaining man for a minute, her head pounding from the extended exposure to the chaotic witch world. She could make no sense of his shape or form, and gave up, dropping her power. Color slammed back into her, and she caught herself before staggering to the floor.

Maybe ten paces from her in an unadorned office, an older bear of a man with graying hair sat with his head down at a desk, peering over some papers. Several candles placed haphazardly along the surface of the desk lit up a pair of sharp eyes above a stern, bearded face. Two wall mounted torches lit up the rest of the room. Behind him dark curtains were pulled tight over the windows set into the wooden frame of the repurposed inn.

“Hello,” she said, crossing her legs as she did since it made her feel like this was no big deal. She had borrowed a dark, oversized pair of pants and tunic from Rose for this, and she hoped it would make for an imposing visage as opposed to one of her dresses.

The man’s head jerked up.

“What the?” his eyes found her sitting on the couch. “Who are you? How did you get in here? That’s impossible.”

So far he hadn’t reached for a weapon, so Ivy kept herself calm.

“Not for me.”

His gaze traveled along her body, though not in the same way she had caught other men doing the same.

“So who is it now,” he asked, “that idiot Karamine? I do hope you know how to use that thing at your hip or this will be boring.”

Still he did not make a move, and Ivy mirrored him.

“Oh I am confident I could kill you just as you are now, but why would I take such a risk? You’ve seen how easily I can breach your stronghold. If I wanted you dead, I would come to you in your sleep.”

Oh god. Why was she saying these things? To the Bloody Prince of all people!

The man bust out laughing for some reason.

“Well,” he said, “true on that point! But with a boast like that, I may want to test your claim.”

“If I draw my blade, it doesn’t see its sheath again until it tastes blood.”

Where was this all coming from!? Ivy’s heart was slamming in her chest, but her words kept coming out so sure of herself. Was that you talking, fancy dagger?

“Ha! Fine then, little girl. Who sent you? What do you want?”

“You seem to have me mistaken, Bloody Prince, I’m here to join the Flag.”

The Prince stared at her with a blank expression.

“Try harder next time, girl. You expect me to believe someone as talented as you hasn’t been swallowed up by one of the guilds by now?”

“I didn’t really have any expectations of you. This is the first time we’ve met.”

A silence hung over the room, and neither of them moved. Ivy remained content to hold the peace as long as he did. This whole plan of hers was ridiculous to being with, and at the first sign of trouble she would activate her power again. It should come much faster after already having harnessed it so recently.

“Come here,” he said, finally.

Okay, she could do that. She uncrossed her legs and strolled over to the desk, taking her time like she could make him wait on her whenever she liked. Yet another behavior she couldn’t understand coming from her. She was about to come face to face with the Bloody Prince. What if he was just drawing her in to cut her down? Aaaa! This was insane!

When she stopped opposite him on the table, she noticed the papers he had been perusing were all a series of maps marked with all manner of…things. The Bloody Prince frowned at her.

“Oh god,” he said, “you're just a baby. No wonder you were spouting lines from a bardic tale earlier.” What? She thought it had sounded pretty good. “Okay, maybe I believe you. But why now? I imagine you could take practically whatever you wanted. So why join us now?”

Her genuine feelings felt like the best in this moment.

“Because I want to belong somewhere,” she said.

The Prince sat back in his chair and rested his chin on one fist.

“Huh. Not what I expected, but an honest answer. Okay.” He fished around on his desk for a moment, then grab a small square of parchment, holding it out.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“You can read, right?”

“Of course.” Not. She snatched the paper from his grasp in an attempt to hide her trembling fingers. She wouldn’t show any weakness now.

“Fetch what’s on the note,” he said, “we’ll talk after.”

“You’re testing me? After I’ve already made it this far?”

“Infiltrating my inner sanctum does not prove your loyalty.”

“And this does?” she waved the slip of paper through the air.

“We’ll see.”

He made backhanded waving motion in her direction and went back to studying his maps.

“What was that?” she asked.

He looked up.

“I trust you’ll have no issues leaving on your own?”

“Did you just shoo me? Maybe I will go to a different guild that’s less rude.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. What in the world was she doing? Before today she had never imagined ever speaking to this man. And now she was scolding him? He had to be at least three times her age. Yet somehow, the man who’s reputation for bloodlust knew no bounds, had kept his patience throughout their whole conversation.

The prince sighed and got to his feet, passing her and grabbing her wrist as he walked. Ivy let out a little yelp, but he ignored it. His grip felt as strong as the irons that had once held her in the witch hunter’s prison cell. He had to be more than double her weight, and she could barely even see his face it was so high up. He dragged her forward like a children's toy. When they reached the far wall, he threw open a door revealing another man just beyond it. The prince thrust Ivy past the threshold, causing her to cry out again.

“Hey!” she said. “What was that for?”

“This girl is doing a job for me,” the Prince said to the other man, “you know what that means.” He looked at Ivy. “What can I call you, girl?”

Before she could stop herself and prevent the oncoming death due to embarrassment, her mouth opened on its own.

“Dragonfly,” she said.

He rolled his eyes and slammed the door in their face. Ivy was left staring at the shut door with her mouth half open.

“Can you believe that guy?” she asked the second man.

Like most people—men in particular—this new man towered over her, and was giving her a strange look.

“I have so many questions,” he said.

“How about you answer mine instead. What did he mean, ‘you know what that means?’” She lowered her voice in a failed attempt at reproducing the Prince’s baritone.

The man shook his head, pulling out a circular wooden tablet from his jacket instead of answering. On its face was a carved representation of the Bloody Flag. He extended his hand toward Ivy.

“This will give you access to all the resources of the Bloody Flag,” he said.

Ivy took the piece of wood and turned it over. It wasn’t even polished.

“This looks pretty easy to fake,” she said.

“People have tried.”

“So…”

“His highness has granted you his limited authority, for god knows what reason. Let me know if there is anything you need Miss…Dragonfly.”

Ivy's cheeks burned at the mention of her Alias. Stupid dagger giving her stupid ideas. It was the dagger, right? Was it a special witch dagger or something? The way she had been drawn to it had been one thing. And now it seemed to offer her a character to play. The beautiful, deadly night stalker assassin Dragonfly!

Wait, she hadn’t said any of that out loud, right? The Prince’s man was still watching her, and she shrank under his scrutiny.

“Uhh,” she started, “I think I’m all good for now.”

“The Prince’s authority lasts for three days. Return by then.”

“K.”

She looked around the hallway they were in, the worn floorboards at their feet matching the walls in a way that made the whole thing so monotonous that it would be hard to distinguish one corridor from the next even if she had been here before. The Prince was not big on decoration.

“Which way to the stairs?” Ivy asked. “This is the third floor, right?”

The man stayed silent for a moment.

“Who are you?”

“The…Dragonfly?”

It was more of a question than a statement. She couldn’t come to say it with conviction. The man took in a big breath.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Yes, please! Lead on!”

She followed him around the corridor and down a flight of stairs to where a bunch of other men and women were sitting around tables drinking and talking. All the attention shifted to her and she held up the Prince’s token high. Yeah look at that! Most sets of eyes went wide at the presentation of the Prince’s authority.

“Hey, can I make these people do stuff?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Hey you,” she pointed at a random guy, “wine, immediately!”

Her target looked to her escort for support, who just shrugged.

“Awe forget it,” Ivy said, “let’s go.”

People shouted after them, but she didn’t mind. They went down another flight of stairs to the ground floor where more people were milling about amongst more tables, and this time she ignored them. Straight ahead sat the entrance to the guild house. The set of double doors out of the building might be the only extravagant piece of furniture in the whole place. Twice again as tall as her, they were carved with the scene of a great battle spanning across both doors. For a guild so rich, the Prince held almost no luxuries.

“Serve the Prince well, Dragonfly,” her escort said and pushed the doors open.

She stepped out into the night air and when the doors shut, the guards outside eyed her with double the suspicion of those inside. Several unsheathed weapons.

“Bam!” she thrust out the wooden token. “Prince’s authority. Prince’s authority here. Prince’s authority coming through.”

Everyone was too confused to react, and she ran past them out into the street. Once clear of them, she just kept running, a big smile on her face. That had gone so well! She didn’t know what she had expected, but it was better than anything she could have imagined. Not only had the Bloody Prince accepted her—kind of—he granted her permission to use his guild for the task he had given her. What could it possibly be? She rushed home as fast as she could, hoping with all her heart that Rose knew how to read.

When she burst open the door to Rose’s place, the witch was already waiting for her atop Mister Couch.

“Ivy,” she said, then paused, “you look different.”

“Huh?”

Rose smiled.

“It’s just, you seem like you’re…enjoying yourself like a young girl ought to. You’re…happy.”

Ivy rushed up to Rose and flung her arms around the woman.

“I-I think I am,” she said, “maybe for the first time ever.”

She wouldn’t admit to the reason why as she did not think Rose would approve, but it had all been made possible because of Rose. Her heart felt so full in a way that had nothing to do with witch powers. They hadn't lived together for that long, but Ivy…loved the older witch. They were sisters, in truth now, no matter what anyone had to say.

Rose returned the hug, patting Ivy gently on the back.

“I’m so glad, Ivy,” she said, “you deserve it.”

“Oh!” Ivy said, pulling away, “I almost forgot.”

She pulled out the slip of paper the Bloody Prince had given her and held it out.

“Can you read this for me?”