The flames burned brightly inside the fireplace, the crackling and popping with soothing nostalgia. It was an attempt at comfort, reminding Millie of cold winter nights huddled in the living room with her family, listening to stories or watching TV.

But none of that reached Millie now. She sat hunched in her large, leather chair in the middle of her dorm room, watching the fire dance while draped in a large, woolen blanket. It didn’t seem so long ago that her robotic servant had restored the chair after she’d ruined it with blood. An endeavor that still filled Millie with guilt, given the hard labor the servitor had to use, apparently lacking any cleaning magic.

So much had changed since then. And yet, so very little.

She’d had time to consider her talk with Katelyn, and figured out why the tall girl had been chosen to be the bearer of bad news. Not much time, to be fair, as the ‘sun’ was almost gone on the horizon and it was only a scant few M-minutes until the second night began. But it had been enough—it was a simple conclusion to reach, in the end.

Her friends had expected Millie to get angry. Why wouldn’t she? Katelyn had pulled her aside, dashed all her hopes, and introduced the stark reality that Millie might lose her child. If Millie had been the girl that CJ and Tanya knew from before her breakup with Liam, then their caution would have been justified. She never took things lying down, and she sure as shit didn’t let bad news stop her from trying. She could be a lot to handle.

She also always got back up. Always tried again. She did whatever it took—it was who she was. It was why those words had resonated so much with her when Raj gave them to her.

But it also meant her temper could get out of hand. Lash out at those trying to help. She could be…cruel. Ruthless.

They needn’t of worried though. That wasn’t who she was anymore. She knew she’d promised CJ she would try to be that person. She’d promised to put her pain behind her, to rise up and give it her all. And for a time, it had actually worked. It was like she was a whole person again.

But it was all an act. False bravado hiding how unstable she was, chosing to bury her emotions rather than face them. She’d almost believed the lie too. Believed in the CJ that believed in her. That was something he’d say, wasn’t it? She was pretty sure it was a line from one of the shows he liked, her enhanced clarity likely to blame for her remembering even that much.

However, revealing the truth was all it took to shatter her again. It showed how fragile she really was. Showed the issue with ignoring your problems and hoping they went away. A reminder of reality was all it took to bring her crashing down.

Besides, she couldn’t change like that, not really. Certainly not in such a short amount of time, and absolutely not in a situation like this. Magincia was horror. It was pain. Suffering. The strong rose and the weak fell—that was what this city was. Why did she ever think miracles could be found here? Why did she think she was strong enough to win?

In some ways, she knew this was coming. There were too many holes in her plans. Too many assumptions. Too many what-ifs. Not enough facts, tools, or proof. Just a wild hope stapled together with self-delusion that she’d done her best to spin into reality with sheer determination. But it wasn’t enough. How could it ever be?

She wished she could be the girl she was in the past. Stubborn and driven, the kind people relied on to get the job done, who would have taken the worst setback in stride and kept going. Not the scared woman, lost and alone. Crushed after discovering her life was a lie, crumbling to pieces when the one she cared for most tore her heart out and left. She hadn’t recovered from that. Even the mental healing of the Headmaster hadn’t affected it. If anything, Magincia had only made it so much worse.

Why did she think lying to herself about it would fix anything?

She’d wanted to be so much more in her life. Wanted to own her own garage, to make Liam happy, to fulfill their dreams together. To enjoy her time with her friends and her family and not work day after day, hour after hour…and for what? What had all the effort, all the jobs, all the determination gotten her?

A life lived in vain.

Maybe it’s for the best, a part of her thought. Did I really think someone like me could succeed at being a mother? Raising a child in a place like this?

Katelyn said the class would keep on trying, to keep looking. But Millie knew that was a comforting lie. When Millie had left the rec room, with a faraway gaze and shaking, she saw it in their expressions. It was only then that they’d had the courage to look at her. Only then that they were brave enough to try and comfort her. But the truth was clear. They pitied her. They were afraid.

Because they’d already accepted what was coming.

So she’d left without a word. Retreating to her room so she could be alone. She’d sat down onto her favorite chair, let her servitor fuss over her, and remained silent as she stared into the flames. Her robot eventually left too, withdrawing to her little room.

Deep down, Millie still wanted to fight. A small, distant part of her wanted so desperately to be the person CJ and Tanya thought she could be. She didn’t want to be the broken girl Liam had left her as.

But what was she supposed to do?

Teach them magic? She’d taught her class all they needed to know to get started and the rest would come with practice and the Archives.

Research an answer? She’d pushed as far as she could in the Archives, and it wasn’t like going any further on her own would matter. She couldn’t read the First Language, and all the Attainments she needed were on the highest floors, far out of reach.

Make more weapons? The shitty, improvised weapons she’d made for the others had already been replaced by the real ones awarded to them by Shaggy Breeches.

Consult her Tarot cards? What if using them killed her? She had no idea how dangerous it really was. It was a risk, and for what? Without the right questions, what answers would she get? The best Spells she could conceivably cast were too limited. Too weak.

Like her.

It was why the only thing she could do…was wait. Wait in her room until she had to take the remedy, or someone found a miracle to save her son.

Like a princess in a tower, needing to be saved.

She hated that, of course. When she was younger, she’d always wanted the princess to just climb out of the tower, and then to go forth to do something grand. She also found it increasingly annoying that the more stories she came across, the more the plots conspired to force the princess to be a damsel in distress. Instances like the princess having a helpless family member, or a kingdom that relied on her to be right there at all times, logic be damned.

Gilded cages, more elegant than stone, but towers to trap them all the same.

But she couldn’t climb out of her tower. She couldn’t leave, she couldn’t contribute. She couldn’t save herself. And even if she could, even if she succeeded at finding a miracle, what would she even aspire towards? Raising her child in a glorified war zone?

She was trapped, with only her misery to keep her company. The worst part were her thoughts. They twisted in her mind, like a force of nature she couldn’t control, stewing on the situation, refusing to give her peace. Trying to find ways out, but each idea felt more horrifying than the last.

The optimum time to take the remedy would be the beginning of the third day, those thoughts told her. It gives everyone one last chance to find a solution, and then plenty of time to catch up. I’d probably surpass them thanks to my vision’s knowledge of Runes.

Please stop, she thought. But the pragmatic side of her wouldn’t listen.

I could also wait until the ninth day. That would give everyone the most amount of time to search for a solution while allowing me a chance to make arrangements for the end of the Hospitality period. If there is a hidden trial, I need to be prepared.

‘Prepare yourself,’ Katelyn had told her. ‘You need to be prepared.’

I don’t want this, Millie thought. Please stop thinking about this. Please, I—

She’d never wanted to be a mother. It galled her that she’d confessed that to Katelyn in her shock, but it was true. She’d always been afraid that if she had kids, she’d fail them. What if she didn’t love them enough? Protect them enough? What if she got angry, or disappointed, and hurt them?

What if, by accident, she was cruel to them? Ruthless?

It was so easy to leave a lasting mark on a child. Even if you thought what you did was for the best. Every action of yours laid a foundation for the rest of their lives, and a single mistake could last a lifetime. Like with Liam.

Liam didn’t cry. Wasn’t that a funny fact? He seemed the type, didn’t he? Soft and sensitive, more pretty than rugged. Beautiful and dark.

When Liam was a child, his mother died. Millie had never learned the full details, but she suspected it was bad. After it happened, Liam had begun sneaking into her room. They were neighbors, so it wasn’t hard for him to find his way into her bed, and she’d held him and told him it would be okay. Told him to cry and let it out. To release the tears where no one would see. She swore to keep them secret, and she did.

The thing was, he wasn’t allowed to cry anywhere else. His father was a good man, but strict and traditional. Stoic, even in tragedy. And men didn’t cry—they did something about the pain. That was what he wanted to teach his son.

But Liam had never wanted to do something about the pain. He just wanted it to go away. For someone to tell him it would be alright.

When Liam’s father had found he’d been sneaking into Millie’s room, he’d given the boy the belting of a lifetime, conflating the problem with impropriety. Liam couldn’t sit for days after, and wouldn’t look at Millie. It took a long time to patch things between them, but he’d never been the same after that. He refused to cry. Or to open up. He’d get angry when she pushed him. So she stopped. His father’s actions, even with the best of intentions, had left a profound and deep impact on him.

She wondered now if that was why their relationship had failed. If that had contributed in some way she didn’t understand. But part of her wasn’t willing to blame him. It was still convinced the issue was her fault.

She’d tried as hard as she could for Liam. Tried to give him everything he needed to be happy. To support him in his failures, to celebrate with his triumphs. She’d loved him with all her heart. She’d thought that would be enough.

But it wasn’t. Nothing she did made a difference. Her entire life with him was a lie, and she didn’t know why. Where had she gone wrong? What had she screwed up? Why wasn’t she enough?

She’d have done whatever it took for him. She’d tried so hard.

But she hadn’t known how flawed, how broken, their relationship really was. How much he was. And if she didn’t know that, how could she possibly, in any way, think she could be a mother? Her, a girl with all the insight of a rock?

How could she ever think she’d be a good mother.

Maybe I should just take the remedy now and spare him a life of pain with a worthless failure like me.

Millie stood up and began to pace. The thoughts in her head were too much, the bitterness and doubt spiraling deeper and deeper. Turning into self-loathing and despair despite how much she tried to stamp it down.

The worst part was, she could remember what it was like. In her vision. Taking the remedy. Waking up the next day.

She’d beheld a flat stomach. Holding it, she broke down sobbing to the point of retching. Screaming in pain as the reality hit home. Agony, unlike anything she could have imagined.

And now she faced it again. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think about it. To feel this. She tried desperately to bury it. To ignore it. But a part of her worried.

Was it predetermined in some way? She thought. Was I destined to always fail? Could I have changed anything at all?

Her hands hurt. Phantom pain from a vision that was becoming reality, and she stared at her right one. It was where the anchor for her Force Shield had been. It was probably her free ‘tier-one’ Attainment, wasn’t it? That was, before the Goblins had chopped it off. Would she lose this hand later? Would she be gutted and butchered? Destined to die no matter what she did?

Would anything she did matter?

No, I can change that, she told herself. If I prepare sooner, gather more power, get more understanding of magic. Of Spells and of Runes, I can be ready.

I can make them all pay for this.

Millie paused in her pacing, realizing the bitter scowl her face had twisted into.

Make them pay? It became clearer now, the more she focused on it. She’d felt it after Catherine’s accident, and even more now that she faced the worst aspects of her vision. The bitterness. The hatred.

The rage that fueled the ruthlessness inside. The person Magincia was trying to turn her into. Bubbling up, no matter how much she tried to bury it.

Even if a solution is found, the feelings told her, it doesn’t change the fact that having a child in this situation is stupid. There’s nothing to be gained by it—the only reasons to have children are sentimental or to propagate the species. And do I really want to have his child? What if it’s a case of like father like son?

She hated that voice. That ruthlessness. It hated her in return. Self-loathing in all its glory. The price of her failures.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Katelyn had told her.

She knew that it wasn’t. She knew that this situation was beyond her control. That she shouldn’t be letting her feelings spiral like this, to hate herself like she was. But it was a bitter poison in a weakened system. Unending blows to a bruised ego that had long since succumbed to the onslaught.

She could tell herself it wasn’t her fault all she wanted, but nothing she did made her believe it.

“You told me I’d find a way,” Millie whispered. “Why would you lie to me like that? Why?”

Reaching for the case she’d left on a table, she pulled out a card. She’d expected to find the Empress. She wanted to scream at it. To rip it up. To toss it into the fire for giving her false hope. For lying to her. Instead, she found something else.

The Hanged Man.

“Is this a joke to you? Do you think this is funny!?”

Millie grit her teeth as she fought back the urge to tear the card up. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a bad card. It indicated that one was trapped in a bad situation, facing a dilemma, but it was also a reminder that you could change that. You had to release yourself, often by walking away or changing your perspective on a situation. Sometimes, it meant relinquishing control and looking for the correct course of action when the moment was right.

Absently, she wondered if it appearing wasn’t a hint of something more. As she thought about it, the way the cards tended to reflect her situation like this was very much like the description of the Spell Lesser Omen. But how was it was activating?

She wasn’t paying for it. It was a little hard to miss that given the blood. Of course, it was another example of a ‘Cantrip,’ something so weak that most barely considered it a Spell. But unless the cards were somehow providing the energy on her behalf, it should still cost her a point of Mana. Even then, items that did that still had limited charges. She’d be able to feel it in the cards. But she never had all the times she’d investigated them before.

This didn’t make sense.

Maybe there’s more the deck can do? She thought. I only know the weakest kinds of magic items, right? Tiers one through three? Surely there’s stronger stuff out there. Hell, there’s crap like infinite regeneration and invincible Spirit armor. That sure as shit doesn’t fit what I know.

What if her deck really could do more? She almost wanted to hope again. But it hurt so much in her chest. To dare even think that things could be better. That she could find a way through it.

And what happened if it failed? Found another dead end?

Would it change anything? She thought.

Is there a reason not to try? She countered.

Letting out a loud sigh, she decided to hell with it. She’d play with fire, and if she got burned, so what? It was just pain and failure. She had plenty of both.

First, let’s see if I can manipulate this at all.

Putting the card away, she pulled out the full deck and shuffled it. Taking a quick breath, she then drew a new card.

It was The Hanged Man again. Smiling cheekily as he hung upside down by his ankles, which were tied to a rope.

“…got it, no cheesing the system for free Lesser Omens,” she complained.

Maybe she should try one of the other tier-one Spells? Like Wheel Or Woe? But that only gave an indication of positive, negative, or mixed outcomes on a limited action. Like asking, ‘what will happen if I go through this door,’ kind of thing. It would give you that vague hint, but if there was another room after that one, you were still on your own.

What about Consult The Cards? It was likely that Consult The Cards would still cost a Mana. It had before in her fight with Strickland, so why wouldn’t it now? Unless that had changed in the interim?

Should she test it just to make sure?

“Do I have better options?” She mumbled. It was only a tier-one Spell, and she was likely to survive the Backlash. Likely.

“Fuck it. Wheel Or Woe just gives a heads up on something immediate, so that’s useless. Consult The Cards it is.”

She put The Hanged Man away and shuffled the deck once more. Okay cards, give me a way out of this mess. Help me find a path forward.

The first card she drew was…The Hanged Man. Again.

“Okay, I get it,” she muttered. Lesser Omen was a part of Consult The Cards formation, so it wasn’t surprising they played into each other.

Setting the card down on a desk, she drew the next one. Immediately, she felt the odd, phantom sensation of magic beginning to ripple through her body, like static through her nerves. Oh yeah, this is going to cost me. Yippie.

The second card was a boy. He had white hair down to his shoulders, and his eyes were faded, pupils nearly white, clearly blind. He was dirty and scuffed, his clothing ragged and torn, one toe poking out of a sock on his shoeless feet. He sat huddled next to a wall with five, Rune-covered Pentacles arrayed in a pattern. He looked puzzled, worried even, his hands tracing the wall searching for the Runes, desperate to find a solution he couldn’t see. He was the Five of Pentacles.

She set him down next to The Hanged Man and drew again.

The third card was more dramatic. Two massive hands stretched upward, joined together along the forearm, graying like a dying tree trunk with fingers splayed like branches. They held a burnished, golden crescent moon aloft, or at least a likeness thereof, for in the distant background was a lighthouse with the full moon silhouetting it.

On top of the metallic crescent, with her legs dangling, was a girl. She wore a rich, purple dress that flowed around her. Beneath her feet, the silken cloth wrapped the trunk-like arms, and above her, it fluttered in a breeze towards the lighthouse. Her hair was long and black, and joined her dress in drifting into the horizon.

But her face was distinct. Beautiful yet downcast, as though deep in thought. Her eyes were covered by a white mask and closed, while her hands held a pair of swords, poised to strike but uncertain in target. She was the Two of Swords.

Ready for it, Millie felt the pulse of sensation through her. That pulling at her being, that draining of her core. As though exhausted, and beaten, she looked down to see bruises forming along her arms, and felt warmth trickling down the sides of her face. She coughed lightly, the taste of blood in her mouth as she put the last card down with trembling hands.

“You’re quite impatient, aren’t you?” The Hanged Man joked. He swung lightly by his feet, smiling at Millie. “It’s understandable though. Sometimes you need to look for more answers. The kind that won’t come to you.”

“Sometimes you can’t see them even when they’re right in front of you,” the quiet, white-haired boy said, his hands searching the wall for Runes he couldn’t see, nor feel it seemed. “Many options are before you, many closed doors behind you. It’s not even your fault. If you had Sight, you could see. If you could tell your allies what to search for, what you seek would be yours. But that’s how the world is sometimes, isn’t it? Everything just out of reach.”

“A crossroads lies before you,” the girl said ominously. “Yet you seem determined to make it between your son’s life or your own. And yet, there is no circumstance where he gets to live and you do not, making that a meaningless choice. Are you sure you understand the options before you?”

“What does that mean?” Millie asked. “I know my choices.”

“Do you?” The girl challenged, her head rising though her eyes remained shut. “Tell me then, what are they?”

Millie pursed her lips. What the hell was this card getting at? “They’re…to take the remedy or not.”

“Correct,” she said.

“Then why would you—”

“Because you are conflating the issue,” the card interrupted her. “Thoughts and feelings that keep coming up only for you to run from them. Failing Liam, failing your child, failing yourself. You’d cut your legs off for fear you’d stumble. That isn’t what this is about, and ignoring the thoughts you abhore—letting your fear and anxiety drive you into despair—cripples you. You must tackle them, accept them, make them your own. Only then can you make your choice.”

“It’s alright to consider your options, Millie,” The Hanged Man jumped in. “Thinking through the pros and cons doesn’t make you evil. It doesn’t mean you failed. When you make your decision, it should be with the full weight of your conviction behind it. After you’ve looked at it from all angles, even the ones you oppose.”

“Commit to a course and don’t look back,” the boy added. “You’ll face impossible-seeming obstacles no matter which path you tred, so take the one that feels right. No hardship lasts forever, but don’t forget you’re not alone either. You have friends that can help in more than just saving your child. They can help you as a person. To be better, or stronger. It’s okay to need them.”

“If you choose to wait,” the woman said, “then set limits and don’t blame yourself for them. Deadlines will drive you forward, and those goals will keep you going. However, if you attempt to hide from fate, you may miss out when the time comes due to fear. If you act now, act swiftly and pounce on opportunities as they come. Don’t let fear stop you going forward or buried emotions hold you back.”

“You can do it, Millie,” The Hanged Man said. “You don’t have to wait in your tower for others to rescue you—you’re capable of more than you think. You just don’t see it yet. No matter which course you choose, don’t let this place decide who you are for you. Decide it yourself.”

“I…” Millie tried to say, but trailed off. I can’t do anything though, she thought. I’m not strong enough.

“You are,” the Hanged Man said, seemingly responding to her thoughts. “But there’s more to life than survival. And if this city won’t let you have the life you want, if you feel you aren’t the person you wanted to be, why not change both things?”

“How?” Millie countered. “You can’t just change things like that, it doesn’t work!”

“Of course it won’t,” The Hanged Man said. “Not with the way you’re trying it. The key isn’t in denial, Millie. Its in acceptance. Its in understanding what can be changed, and what you have to grow to accept.”

Millie stared at the card, chewing on its words.

“No matter how impossible it seems,” it continued, “you move mountains one stone at a time. So, focus on the little things you can control. Then, when you’re ready, start with the first step. A commitment. All you have to do is take it.”

“Find it,” the boy said.

“Accept it,” the girl replied, lifting a single sword above her head.

“And Millie?” The Hanged Man said. “Don’t let your pain blind you to the options around you. Of the future you can create. Good luck, okay hun?”

The Hanged Man gave her one more smile before the cards went silent.

No one questioned Millie when she entered the healing pools. They didn’t bother her when she asked for food, or pressure her to talk when she asked to be alone. And they left her in peace when she eventually returned to her room. Outside, darkness had fallen as the second Magincian night had officially begun.

It was here Millie expected to stay for the foreseeable future. To wait, and to decide. To make the hardest choice of her life. But, when she returned to her room something was waiting for her.

“Millie?” Her servitor asked. Her features were strained—she was worried but had been all evening. “You have a message. I’m not…familiar with its function though.”

Not familiar? Millie furrowed her brow as she accepted a small, black card from her servitor. Looking it over, it seemed to be metallic, like an expensive credit card heavy in her hands. Written on it, in an ink so dark it defied reason and was painfully visible even against the black background, were the words:

‘The Black Crystal’

Nothing else was on either side of the card.

“What the hell? Is this…” Millie paused as she recalled something Raj had said earlier. About invitations to a certain club.

The one where Liam got his crystal, she thought. That isn’t a coincidence.

“Is this from Liam?”

Her servitor nodded, which only made Millie grimace more.

“What did you mean when you said you weren’t familiar with its function?” Millie pressed her servitor.

Her robot shuffled on her feet. “As far as I can tell, it seems to be…coordinates for your portal. If applied, it should allow you to travel to a location without visiting it first.”

“And this is new to you?” She asked.

“It is,” the robot confirmed. “There’s nothing in the System like this currently. It falls outside the normal purview of the Academy.”

That seemed odd. While Millie had nothing in her vision that covered this, it had always just seemed arbitrary that students had to visit portals to ‘link’ them. Why would a shortcut be unexpected?

“Great,” Millie said snidely. “Thanks, I’ll…I don’t know. Thanks,” she said, dismissing her robot. She curtsied and withdrew.

Millie honestly didn’t know what to think of it. What was she supposed to do, waltz right in to some degenerate club? For what? Was Liam waiting for her there? Was this his way of telling her he wanted to meet up?

That he’d found a way to help?

Somehow, the thought made her furious. After everything he’d done, everything they’d gone through, was this the answer? Was he really the prince charming and she the princess?

Or was he just going to try and convince her to take the remedy again? To store her son’s soul in a jar and hope for the best later?

I won’t do that, she decided. I know where that road goes, and emotionally, I never recovered.

She paused as she considered that. She’d never recovered. Was there something different in her real timeline, compared to that vision, that changed that? Was she somehow going to be better now than she was then, if she took the remedy?

It was an interesting perspective she hadn’t considered. Mostly…because she hadn’t allowed herself to. Every time the painful memory came up, she’d tried again and again to bury it. To treat it like another blank patch of her vision’s memories. As though to say—it hadn’t happened to her. It had been someone else. It couldn’t happen. Not really.

But it could. And she was done denying it.

She let the emotions flow through her as the memory played in her mind in excruciating detail. In some ways, it felt like opening a door to a grieving friend. She could feel the sorrow, the bitterness, the pain of that future Millie wrapping around her and just…hurting, quietly. Like a crying woman, letting it all out. Accepting the loss that no potion could erase.

Silently, Millie made her way to the bathroom. Setting the card down on the sink, she rested her hands against the counter and looked in the mirror.

The Millie in the reflection looked tired. Beleaguered. Eyes red and puffy, hints of black still present in her sclera, her expression trapped in an anguished snarl. She could see the turmoil in her gaze. The soul twisting on itself, lost in the chaos, tortured by indecision and powerlessness.

With a sigh, Millie reached towards a set of shelves next to the mirror. On it, several products and medicines waited for her.

Including the remedy.

The vial was small, tapered near the top, bulbous on the bottom, but fit in her hand easily. The pill was visible through the crystalline container, appearing purplish due to the amethyst color of the vial. It floated in a mixture, Millie wasn’t sure what of. The vial’s top was capped off with a glass-like stopper, lightly fused with the vial. She’d have to break it to get it open. Her vision’s memories told her, however, that it would be a simple process. A firm pressure to its side would break the seal, and she could remove the cap.

It was blank in her vision’s memories after that. Blank, until the morning and everything that came with it. An experience that felt as real as though she’d lived it.

Millie stared at the remedy in her hands, trying to ignore the fresh tears that spilled out. The most horrid part, were the thoughts still running in the background. But she stopped fighting them too. She let them flow, mingling with the grief.

Even if I succeed at saving my child, I’m still doomed to fail.

In her situation, within the confines of Magincia, having a child was undeniably foolish. She had no idea how hard it would be to provide for him, but she knew how difficult it would be just for her to survive. He would grow up separated from the world, without children his own age to be with, in what amounted to a war zone where any day someone could leave on a quest, only to never return.

Perhaps, the real goal was to do exactly as Katelyn had suggested. To prepare herself. To let go, and not blame herself. She didn’t die in her vision because she lost her son, she’d just hated herself. Blamed herself. Let all her baggage coalesce around that trauma, and drag her into the abyss.

She could overcome that though. She could take the first step now. She could move towards acceptance. Make the right move for herself. Maximize her chances of success.

It was the right choice. Take the remedy, abort her child, and live for tomorrow.

Millie screamed as she smashed her head into the mirror.

Glass splintered, cracks spreading, shards tumbling down. Her forehead gushed blood. Slowly, she pulled back, a few more shards covered in crimson wetness falling into the sink to join the others.

She stared at the broken reflection, her blood cascading down her face, dripping down to her belly.

She was a storm finally set loose. Seething with vitriolic hatred.

At the city. At Liam. At herself. She’d never wanted this. She’d never asked for this. For any of it. To bear his child. To be shanghaied. And now her course was set, was it? The right choice was that obvious? Kill her child so she could live? For what? What would she live for? What would she accomplish in this fucking hellhole?

The fury within her swelled to such a point that all threatened to become red in her sight. And yet, when it hit that point—it just kept going as she stopped fighting it. She screamed and screamed as loud as she could, her voice echoing in the bathroom, tearing at her throat, deafening her ears.

And when she was done, panting through grit teeth, she stared at the girl in the mirror. She could feel the rage, like lightning in her veins, and her blackened eyes narrowed in the mirror, split by the river of blood still flowing. The very image of Bloody Millie.

She popped the vial’s cap. With her free hand, she grabbed the top, and dumped it into the sink, letting it rest alongside red-soaked shards. She could smell the contents, like an alcoholic solution. A chemical preservative. Medicinal, perhaps?

The little pill inside glowed with an inner light. Magic woven through it. A miracle to all save her.

If she took it, all her problems would be over.

It would only cost her everything.

So, she made her choice. The only one that she could.

She poured the pill down the drain. She knew it was stupid. She knew that she was condemning herself. When the week ended, and the miracle remained unfound, she’d need the remedy. She’d die without it, the only solution not calling for it the impossible one laid out by the Headmaser.

But the temptation was too great. The easy way out, too seductive. As long as she kept the pill, she’d never stop thinking about it. So, instead, she’d decided to make everything harder than it ever had to be.

“Just like you’d want, right Magincia?” She said, spitting blood as she ran the sink. Looking up, she glared at her reflection. “The harder this shit is, the more experience or whatever fucking bullshit we get, right? Tell you what—you find a way to kill me before I find a way to burn you to the ground.”

She tossed the empty vial into the trash and turned off the sink. Then, she walked away, a strange calmness filling her as she realized—there was no way out now. She was going to die unless the impossible became reality. But it didn’t bother her like before. Strangely, she didn’t hope to find a way out.

Hope was too flimsy. So easily lost when faced with adversity.

Instead, she accepted her inevitable end. It didn’t stop her from fighting on the way down. And that hatred, that loathing of the city, of her capture, of the life lived in vain, that gave her strength. Was this a worse way to go? Or was it better this way? Anger over hope?

She didn’t know. In the end, however, it gave her a sense of Peace, even in the midst of the fury. Like standing in the eye of a storm.

The dominos began to fall in her mind though. Other worries coming to the forefront, wanting their due consideration. So she gave it to them.

Do I want to be a mother at all?

Something finally clicked in Millie’s mind. She hadn’t ever accepted being a mother, had she? Oh, she’d accepted it was happening, but she’d never accepted actually being one. Just sought to endure it, and to dread it. To hope that somewhere down the line it would make sense and she could pull through.

Is it really over with Liam?

She hadn’t accepted her life with Liam was over with either, had she? She’d run out on him, sure, and even done her best to shut him out of her life. But she’d done that to protect herself. Because she worried she’d go crawling back to him. Collapse, and give in. Give him whatever she could to make him happy, even if it cost her everything.

Can I really live out my life in a place like this city?

She hadn’t come to terms with her situation, had she? Kidnapped by aliens and forced to learn magic? She was grasping at straws, trying to put out fires, but she had no real goals past basic ones. Just survival.

What if I actually do manage to succeed? Can I really raise a child here?

Her child would face horrors and situations that few could imagine. But that was how the world was, wasn’t it? Just because she’d been fortunate enough to be born into a good family, into a good country, didn’t mean there weren’t families going through worse. Situations not so different from Magincia’s, if one were to strip away the gold and the magic.

All that had really happened to Millie, was that she’d lost that prosperity. That safety. But—if they could do it, she could do it. She wasn’t alone in this after all. She had people who cared, and who would help her raise her child. Maybe that was presumptuous, and maybe it wouldn’t be perfect.

But it didn’t need to be.

She finally began to accept these things now. She understood she couldn’t be a perfect mother, but she wanted to try. She wanted to meet her son, the little bugger who kept kickign in her stomach. She knew what it would feel like to lose him, and she never wanted to feel that again.

She understood now that her relationship with Liam was over. She hadn’t failed him, he had failed himself. She couldn’t save him or give him what he wanted. He’d squandered their life together, and…it wasn’t her fault. Hadn’t Isabella said it succinctly, too? You can’t save someone who isn’t willing to save themselves. If he wanted to help, that was fine. But she was done shouldering the blame for his failures.

And lastly, she understood that she needed more in Magincia. Survival wasn’t enough. The city would stop at nothing to push her to the brink—that was how its curriculum was designed. Hardships, pain, and failure would occur over and over again unless she rose high enough, and went far enough, to stop it herself.

So she would. She would conquer this city or see it burn. It could enjoy having a shitty ultimatum.

“Mistress?” Her robot said, poking her head inside bedroom where Millie was standing, hands on hips. “Are you alright?”

Millie turned to regard her. Am I? She thought, before laughing lightly.

“Eh, probably not,” she confessed. “But…I feel better. A lot better.”

She felt it. That calm certainty of death, but also of a goal. A purpose beyond survival and reacting to the endless bullshit. She needed to reach higher, to go further. To pre-empt the problems. And she wouldn’t wait to find an answer—she’d make one happen. She’d carve her way into the infrastructure of the academy if she had to, tear through pipes and machines and build a solution with her own two hands.

No more playing their game. Adhering to their curriculum. She’d find a way to make the impossible, possible.

This was the choice the stubborn, angry girl she’d used to be would have made. You want to kidnap me and make me do your bidding? You want to murder my unborn child arbitrarily? Prepare to choke on it bitch.

And now, this was the person she would be. A pissed-off mother who was tired of alien bullshit. If she was a princess, trapped in her castle, she was burning her tower down and rebuilding it from the ground up. They really should have known better.

She would make a paradise out of this hell for her boy to grow up in, or make sure it never hurt anyone ever again.

“Whatever it takes,” Millie whispered.

“Um, Millie?” Her servitor nervously said. “Would you like me to remove the glass from your forehead? That…looks pretty bad.”

Millie blinked through the blood. “Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea, wouldn’t it? I’m bleeding a lot, aren’t I?”

She chuckled, only to have her mirth die off. The robot was pursing her lips, saying nothing, but her eyes drifted down to the puddle below Millie, and to the trail she’d left behind her. The crimson path led from the bathroom all the way to the middle of her bedroom, completely covering the large rug on the floor.

A rug that was now…most likely ruined. That the poor robot would have to slave over to restore, just like the leather chair.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes.”