“What do we do?” Tanya asked, voice shaking. “We don’t have access that high up in the Stacks. We can’t get to them in time!”

She isn’t wrong, Millie thought, staring at the dull communication stone. The distance separating her from her classmates was simply too great to bridge. So, she activated Eyes of Fate, trying, in vain, to get some sort of read on Katelyn. All it got her was a sense of tension through the sympathetic chain, which vibrated, almost like it was throbbing in pain. Like an inflamed limb snapped at the joint.

Was that real, or imagined though? Could her anxiety manifest itself through this power? There was so much she didn’t know. She did, however, notice something. There was a similar pressure, without the possible ‘pain’ vibrations, that was present with her other classmates. They were all in danger, weren’t they? She wasn’t sure how she knew, but her gut told her she was right about that.

“You two need to leave,” Millie finally whispered. “Go and start the race before it's too late.”

“And just leave the others?” Braylon said, standing up suddenly. There was no sign of his earlier timidness, the bashful giant was gone—replaced by a man with a cold light in his eyes, someone who had faced loss and refused to let it happen again. Distantly, Millie remembered how he’d charged armored warriors without hesitation. I wonder if that’s Raj’s influence, she thought, or if that’s who Braylon is deep down. Either way, her respect for the man rose.

“Like Tanya said,” Millie answered slowly. The words hurt to say. “We don’t have access that high up. The closest anyone has, is me up on the sixth floor. And let's face it—I’m not going to make a difference by myself in a fight.”

Not to mention how long it would take me to reach them, she silently tacked on. She was all but useless on the puzzles until she could expand her soul enough to read at a regular pace.

The large man grimaced, his worry reflecting in Tanya’s expression as well. Even her familiar, Bartholomew, had a grim look on his little bird features. Spirits, even animal-looking ones, were surprisingly expressive it seemed.

“That doesn’t mean we’re abandoning them,” Millie explained. “I’m going to see if there's anything more than Fate readings I can pull off. Maybe I can call up the Fortune-Teller and see what terrible price I can pay this time.”

She’d tried to say it as a joke, but her smile came out as a scowl. The connection she had with Katelyn kept vibrating, kept throbbing, kept demanding her attention. She felt like she was just sitting here, listening to the tall girl’s anguished cries and doing nothing. Perhaps she was. Focus, she told herself. One thing at a time.

“If you two want to help,” she said, noting how her two classmates perked up eagerly. “Do everything you can to win, okay? Whatever it takes.”

“But…we can’t do nothing,” Tanya protested. “They need us.”

“We’ve said it before, haven’t we?” Millie explained. “Even one more Seed Gift could change everything. So go get one, okay?”

In truth, she was loath to send them out, given the danger. However, of everyone in the group, she was most confident that Tanya stood a chance to win. Surely the Weaver’s vision meant something? She had to believe that.

Perhaps Tanya came to the same conclusion. After a moment of thought, she exchanged a glance with Braylon, before turning back to Millie and nodding with conviction.

“Okay,” Tanya said. “We’ll get the prize and come back as soon as we can.” With that, she spun around in her skates and made her way to the door.

Shit, I forgot. “Crap, your breaks, we—”

“Fuck the brakes!” Tanya yelled, disappearing into the hall. A second later, Braylon followed, shooting Millie one last glance and a wave of goodbye. Now alone, she prepared to—

“Mistress,” a voice said, making Millie jump. She turned to see her robot had returned, having apparently rushed out in the chaos. As she walked in, Millie saw she was carrying the Crystal Ball.

“Good job, miss robot,” Millie said, smiling though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll need that.”

That and a miracle.

Catherine prayed for a miracle as she ran through the Stacks, tears streaming down her face, Katelyn’s shouts echoing in her mind.

Run, her friend had told her. Run. We’ll meet up again, just get out of here!

“She’s getting away!” One of her pursuers shouted. A student, with a dark robe-like uniform and a strange shadowy glint in his eyes. There’d been a small squad of them when they’d come out of nowhere. Them and their demons.

Catherine felt an expenditure of Mana behind her and ducked just as it came sailing past. This one missed her, thankfully, though she’d already taken some hits and her Mage Armor was nearly expended. She still didn’t know why she could feel their casting so easily, though she’d come up with a simple theory in the chaos. She suspected it was related to how they were breaking the rules—seemingly casting magic without end.

She dodged preemptively to the side, throwing herself down a passage as another blast came, slamming into the stone and showering her with chips. Even as she ran on, a late shot came by, off its mark and smashing into a nearby bookshelf, which flared with light over her shoulders. The puzzle-locked shelving had barricades that protected them. She ran further, hearing them round the corner, and she knew they were lining up more shots even as she took another turn to break line of sight. Light from their Spells zipped behind her as she kept running.

It’s like they have Dungeons and Dragons Cantrips, she thought, her mind racing in a different direction than her body. It was trying to distract her, to hide her from this moment as instinct piloted her. She had a habit of doing that when under stress.

Perhaps they’re like Warlocks? She mused. Can binding to Spirits grant the ability to cast unlimited low-tier Spells? Or is it their wands?

Did it matter? She glanced behind as the leader of their group came into view again, hot on her trail. He was fast, feet blurring with some sort of magic, so she suspected it might not just be their wands—white, bone-like things that gave her an inherent sense of wrongness just to look at. Ironically though, he was barely keeping up with her. Catherine suspected there was a large difference in their physical Attributes. In fact, of the dozen that had ambushed them, only a few were following her now. The rest simply couldn’t keep up.

Or maybe, they’re too busy with Katelyn. At least they went to capture her, rather than kill her. Was that a good sign?

Virginal sacrifices to dark gods? She theorized, ducking through another doorway. No, that’s nonsense. That would work for me, but Katelyn was married and was with child before the incident. But why attack us then? Why capture us? Blood sacrifices for later?

In all honesty, she didn’t care about the answer. It was meaningless, and as the man got sight of her again, he lifted his wand, wobbling it in the air as he ran chanting his next Spell. She screamed as she took another hit, barely avoiding stumbling, unable to dodge properly this time due to a narrower corridor. Pain flared in her shoulder as her Mage Armor had finally fizzled out. A sense of wrongness spread into her flesh from the wound.

Her mind went blank. Before he could land another shot she spun, brandishing her practice wand, a Formation already called to mind as a numb determination took over. The Spell had been forming intuitively in the back of her mind, even as her conscious thoughts spun in circles.

“Expelliarmus!” She shouted, and a small globe of red light shot from her wand.

Why am I doing this? Her mind pleaded, coming to. How can I be this cruel? Why—

A part of her had predicted her opponent’s reaction, capitalizing on it. Harry Potter was one of the most widely known book series ever written, and as expected when the man heard the Spell, he clutched his wand tightly as his eyes widened in recognition.

They’re like children, she realized. Playing with magic. They don’t get it at all.

Nothing said the trigger word had to match the Spell. It was just a matter of concentration.

The modified Fire Bolt hit the man’s wand. She’d elevated it to a tier-two Spell, adding to the base Components one of Duration as well as an almost liquid-like property. Turning Fire into Napalm.

The orb splashed against the wand, his arm, and half his body. He screamed, not from pain but from fright as the sudden, unexpected heat covered him. His Mage Armor was protecting him, but he didn’t understand its limitations like she did, did he? You had to deliberately force the armor to cover held items, it didn’t happen automatically. Spells were simple things, really. Like programs, they only did what you told them to do. And in this case?

“You bitch, you—!” The man dropped the blackened, charred mess of his wand, which continued to burn on the ground. Then, like a fool, he tried to stamp out the fire covering his body. He only succeeded in spreading it, even flinging some onto his allies who’d caught up, nearly running into him.

“Get it off me! Get it off, m—” his voice cut out as he began screaming. His Mage Armor had run out, eaten away quickly by her Immolation Spell.

He…he just needs to use his Mana to smother the Spell, she thought to herself, doing something similar to the wrongness in her wound, expelling the foreign Mana by expending one point of her own. His Spell was weak, so it didn’t take much, and a second later, she was through a doorway and out of sight. But she could still hear him screaming, still smell the charring in the air.

It’s not my fault. It’s n-not. I’m just defending myself. I’m just—

He deserves to die. I hope it hurts. I hope he screams in pain until—

Her mind went blank again as she continued to run, the intensities of her emotions disappearing in a flash. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t hard to dispel a hostile Spell. It didn’t matter that it would only last a Magincian minute. It didn’t matter that she might have just killed someone because he didn’t understand basic magical theory. It didn’t matter that she knew exactly what it felt like to burn alive.

She struggled to feel anything as she ran, a few empty tears falling down her face. Her mother would have called them crocodile tears. An attempt at manipulation. She apologized, under her breath, to the man. Not for hurting him, ironically, but for crying. Only whores played with people’s emotions by displaying false emotions like this.

Was that what she was? A dirty little whore?

She trembled as she ran. Her mind constantly smothering itself, desperate to avoid memories that would have led to more tears. More punishments. She focused instead on running. She had to run. Pumping her arms, breathing steadily, she continued sprinting. She could run a six-minute ‘mile’ now, thanks to Raj. She could also run up to three ‘miles’ at that pace without stopping. She didn’t like the US customary units though. They were so awful. That, at least, brought a semblance of her mind back into focus. That was something safe to think about, so she did.

Five thousand two hundred and eighty feet in a mile, she thought, turning down another hall. She had no idea where she was or where she was going. That’s fifteen thousand eight hundred and forty feet I can run reliably. These units are terrible. Why do the Americans keep insisting on using them?

She much preferred to think about how she could run four thousand eight hundred meters. Roughly five kilometers when quickly converted, which she might as well do. After all, did that last two hundred meters mean anything? She knew she could run it—she could likely run a ten-k marathon, even at this blistering pace. Considering how a month ago she couldn’t have run a hundred meters, that change alone was almost more shocking than magic itself.

Why am I doing this? Distracting myself? Why am I always like this? Hiding, even in my own mind?

She’d physically grown thanks to the remedy, so was this new running ability truly so shocking? She was now several centimeters taller and had even filled out across her body, dropping dozens of kilograms as her fat melted away. I look like a whore. When asked, Catherine had said it was from nutrient deficiency, and that wasn’t technically wrong. Magic had healed years of forced fasting from her mother, and whatever side effects the woman’s often erratic diet or medicinal trends had subjected Catherine to later in life. To make me fat. To cover up my whorish body.

Do I even have a plan? Where am I going? Should I…fight? Go back and rescue Katelyn?

She thought she could smell burning flesh. A memory flashed before her, her hands burning. Agony as she screamed. She hadn’t been able to run from that, couldn’t hide in her mind. The pain had wrenched her awake and forced her to watch the bones of her hands expose themselves. Flesh curling back as ivory turned black.

Then the memory became something more. A voice, childlike and scared, begging her mother to stop, to please stop hitting her as pain blossomed on her back, hot wetness running down her bottom. Blood. I’ll be good. I swear I’ll be—

“Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven,” she breathed out quietly, as the memory began to fade. Had she been counting bookshelves as she ran? No, stop that. I need to focus.

What were her options? She needed to get out of here, Katelyn had said so and she needed to do what Katelyn told her. She was the one who had freed her from her mother, and she would listen to what Katelyn told her. She had to listen.

Get out of here.

Somewhere on the floor was a staircase leading down. They’d taken it from the eighth floor, but elsewhere she could find a staircase to the tenth. Scattered around, hidden behind tapestries, movable bookshelves, or even carpets would be hidden rooms with special puzzles for extra scrap. Cathrine liked the puzzles. Sometimes, the hidden rooms included portals, but that didn’t matter right now. Finding them without references to draw on was virtually impossible—that left two ways out: up or down.

Just have to find one, she told herself, then perked up when she heard something, a spike of adrenaline surging through her body. A rushing sound, accompanied by heavy breathing and deep impactful steps. Like her mother coming to her room. One of them.

She skidded to a halt, barely avoiding a demonic-looking ape that crashed into the wall in front of her, leaping down an intersection to catch her. The hairless, long-armed muscled beast smelled of burning blood. Or was that in her mind? Looking about, dazed, the demon turned to her, beady black eyes narrowing as it bared a mouth full of red-stained serrated teeth at her. Opening its mouth to roar, it revealed layers to them, like a shark.

She was already fleeing back the way she’d come.

How did it find me so easily? Are they tracking me? How?

Her mind flipped through possibilities, then pulled up a Formation she’d previously planned, even as the hot breath of the demon behind her tried to strangle her. She was pulling away from it though—it ran much like a gorilla, using its arms. Despite its likely superior strength, great enough to shatter stone, it struggled to keep up by pure form alone.

Formation ready in her mind, Catherine lifted her Initiate wand and channeled a Spell silently. A wad of shining grease shot out with a spray, arcing down the hall and splashing down. With a burst of speed, Catherine sprinted forward, leaping into the air. She soared over the puddle, the demonic brute too dull to think to do the same. Instead, it slipped on the simple trap, slamming into the ground, howling in anger as it splayed out.

Landing on the other side, Catherine flicked her wrist, casting out a small candle flame. It alighted the grease trap, and the demon screamed behind her, more in fury she thought than in pain. Glancing back, the fire did seem to hurt it, but she didn’t see any real evidence of anything other than light burns, but a heartbeat later she’d pulled significantly ahead and lost sight.

Doesn’t matter, she decided, continuing to flee as she pulled out a Mana potion and drank it down. Isabella had insisted Catherine have three of them, which had perhaps been wise. She’d spent one Mana cleansing herself, six Mana on the Immolation Spell, three Mana on the grease trap, and one on the candle. The last one had been a waste, but when she’d first planned out the ‘classic’ strategy, that had been a part of it. As such, she’d followed through without thinking about it. Still, she only had seven Mana left and needed the recovery. In a few minutes, she’d be nearly back to max, but she wasn’t done yet.

“Detect Undead,” she said, invoking a Necromantic Practice. This trigger phrase was impossible for her to change—while she’d studied the Spell’s mechanics in depth she was relying on the ‘shortcut’ (as she thought of it). It had been easy enough to memorize, and cost her only one Mana casting it this way, though she couldn’t modify its more compressed, streamlined state.

Instantly, however, she got a hit. Something in her shadow—specifically a shade. So we can detect them, she thought. They’d wondered about that, but by the time they’d thought to test it the shades had all been pulled back. That or the Wards in the Weaver’s Hall kept them out.

Pointing her wand down, angling with the lantern light to make sure it lined up, she drew in a deep breath.

“Holy Light,” she intoned loudly, her wand glowing with an otherworldly, white light. Immediately, she saw the shape hidden in her shadow ripple and flee like its life depended on it. The thin, wispy form sailed down the hall, wailing, ironically drawing the demon towards it and away from her. Odd.

If she was capable of feeling amusement at the moment, she would have. She hadn’t come close to figuring out Holy Runes, despite extensive study. That had simply been a light Spell and another false trigger phrase. Another trick, another lie. It had cost her two Mana though, despite the low tier. One for the Spell, one for the dramatic flare. Inefficient.

She continued to run.

Mana began to fill her from the potion, trickling in. Physical exertion may speed up metabolization? Interesting, she thought. It had only been about a minute, so it hadn’t been that much faster. Still, I’ll need it for what comes next. Taking the Glyph she devised with Raj, based on ‘motion detection,’ she combined it with a few other components to improvise another Spell. In some ways, it was like Detect Undead, but only in that it was a ‘detect X in range’ type Spell. However, she didn’t settle for simply detecting motion in range. Its default range was too limited for what she needed.

Instead, she forwent the basic emanation component and made a series of Points of Casting, all centered around her head like tiny lines shooting off from her. The Glyph was simple to make, given its repetitive pattern, but she needed it to repeat its effect during the Duration at regular intervals, which was trickier to pull off. In the end, she could tell this would take a lot of Mana, so she preemptively drank another Mana potion. One left.

However, her improvised Spell, which she deemed Rays of Detection in her mind, went off at the horrid cost of ten Mana. It took her almost a solid ten seconds to cast it safely.

Instantly, however, the invisible lines shot out from her head, bouncing off walls, shelves, and decorations, heading off into the distance. Soon after, over three hundred meters away, she got her first response from one of the Rays, so she took a tunnel heading away. Periodically she got more responses, particularly from what she was sure was the demon, and continued to reposition herself accordingly. She wished she could see a readout from the effect though.

It could be like ray casting, she mused. A simple rendering technique used in computer graphics to create an illusion of three-dimensional space across a two-dimensional map. What she was doing could be construed as a crude attempt at that in some ways. Perhaps if she’d paired this with an illusion of some kind? The Rays were bouncing off solid objects, so they clearly could be used for mapping. That would probably be very complex though. It would honestly work best with multiple Spells layered on one another. Was that even possible though? Otherwise, such a Spell would easily fall into tier-three, possibly tier-four. The Potency required to safely cast that would be—

She got a big response. A large cluster quite far away. It had to be Katelyn and her capturers.

Deep inside, something stirred. In truth, it had been this whole time, but her mind kept fleeing it. Rushing in circles, focusing on facts, trivia, and problems in an effort to keep it away. Like a caged beast, rattling the bars, it screamed to be let free. Unbidden, Catherine’s fear began to change. First into indignation. Then, into anger.

Finally—fury.

Demon worshipers are taking Katelyn. Whore worshiping Satanists, hellbent on caustic designs by a corrupt enslaver. Liam. Tempter. Foul spawn of the devil. They should die. All of them. Die. DIE!

A scream of rage came to her lips and she almost stopped running. Almost turned around, almost let the feeling take her, direct her to attack. To fight back. To hurt them.

Like the one time she’d slapped her mother.

As fast as the anger had come, it disappeared. She whimpered, running faster than before. She couldn’t save Katelyn, she couldn’t do anything. All she could do was run.

Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, she mentally recited, her mind going blank to all else. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

She ran desperately, continuing to recite the Angelic Salutation, begging the blessed Mother’s aide, looking for an exit. Casting magic that her mother would have claimed tainted her soul, just to avoid those with actual corruption. Hoping for a way out, hoping her friends were safe. Hoping, in word, but not in heart.

Inside, she was empty as she fled down the labyrinthine halls. Lost and alone.

Raj raced through the labyrinth, CJ at his side, a monster just behind them.

“You sure that’s him?” Raj said, between panting breaths.

“He wasn’t this ugly before,” CJ quipped. “But I’d recognize Strickland anywhere.”

Raj grunted as they turned down a darkened hallway, CJ’s wand, burning like an ephemeral white torch, the only illumination in the Undercroft. It wasn’t the wand the lad had gotten from Shaggy (CJ had tossed it to Raj to use if needed), but an Initiate’s wand he’d bought after seeing how useful Catherine’s was. Distantly, however, they could hear anguished howling, followed by the sounds of stones smashing. They only had three Mana potions between them and had chosen to run when it quickly became apparent that what Spells they had available did nothing to slow the creature chasing them down.

No, not a creature, Raj reminded himself. A person.

Raj had never met Strickland, yet he struggled to accept that the monstrosity now on their heels had ever been the scrawny cretin that had dueled Millie. At nearly eight feet tall, covered in twisted, sinuous muscle, built like some sort of Frankenstein’s monster, the one time enemy of his classmate had become something else entirely.

“There’s another one, closing in on our left, following close,” Raj said, Detect Undead pinging. He’d dropped his previous improvised Spell—its short-range wasn’t worthwhile, especially as Strickland was easy to hear coming. No, he’d suspected and found exactly what had set up the ambush in the first place. I should have thought of this first, seeing Bonnie look at her shadow.

“Got it,” CJ said, biting down on his wand, clenching it between his teeth. With his hands now free, he pulled out a bottle of glistening, crystal-clear blue liquid and unstoppered it. Then, grabbing his wand he dipped it in the vial.

“Separation,” he intoned. The waters shimmered, almost looking to boil. “Conjunction.” The wand’s light suddenly took on a strange glimmer, even doused in the vial as it was. “Projection!”

CJ shouted, tossing the vial aside as he lifted his wand. Dripping wet, but blazing gloriously, the wand's light flared revealing everything nearby. Oddly, the light didn’t blind him. His heart also pounded in his chest, as though to some unseen, distant rhythm, the light feeling somehow warm against his skin. However, a shadow following alongside them, plastered on the dark wall screamed as it suddenly burned, like parchment over a fire. Falling to scraps, its wails quickly faded as it dissolved into ash.

“That’ll teach the prick,” CJ said, taking on a more normal runner’s stance. Strickland wasn’t far behind, and whatever trick of the light CJ had done didn’t stop that beast.

“Right,” Raj agreed, half distracted. He didn’t know why, but the light of CJ’s wand when it had flared had felt…no, this is no time to be distracted. “We need to contact Millie. Get advice on where to go.”

“What, running randomly isn’t working for you?” CJ said, huffing along.

Raj rolled his eyes as the two darted down another path. “It’s only a matter of time before—”

Light poured down the end of the tunnel, catching them off guard. Running out in the open, they suddenly found themselves in a large, empty area, doors lining the walls interspersed with more corridors. It wasn’t the first chamber like this they’d seen, but the sudden materialization of several people inside it was new.

Three women, one man.

“Fuck, it’s—”

“Miss me?” Thomas said, dropping a burned-out scroll to the ground. Surrounding him, his three ‘harem’ girls took up battle stances as Strickland rushed in, coming to a stop as he entered the chamber. “You know, it’s very rude to just run off before we even had a chance to talk!”

The sociopath laughed as he stepped forward, gesturing broadly. He looked much the same as he had before, though he now had a green and gold uniform, much like a martial artist’s Gi. The biggest difference in Raj’s opinion, however, was the shaved side of his head sporting an unknown anchoring tattoo. A new Attainment, but for what?

“I thought you ditched Liam,” CJ said accusingly. “It was his shadows you were using, yeah?”

Thomas just shrugged. “The asshole had a change of heart, and I guess you could say we see things eye to eye now. Helpful that everyone thought we were enemies though, wouldn’t you say? Now, why don’t you—”

“Save it,” CJ said, slowly backing away. “We aren’t buying what you’re selling, creep.”

One of the girls stepped forward, growling. The effect was quite pronounced, given the folded back wolf ears, furry head, and tail sticking out behind her. Even her teeth were narrower than normal, giving the bestial girl a truly feral appearance.

Christ almighty, did he do that to them? Raj thought. All the girls of Thomas’ little ‘harem’ had beast traits, the other two being cat-themed and bunny-themed. They also sported obviously augmented, overly sexualized features, and the distant haunted look in their eyes made Raj seriously doubt they were willing participants.

“Easy girl, easy,” Thomas said jokingly, brushing the girl’s hair back, her ears folding submissively as she stepped back, shivering in sudden fear. Raj’s eyes narrowed. “Now, before you two start running, again, why don’t you just make this easy on yourselves? Come quietly, yeah? There’s no reason to—”

CJ shot Raj a glance, and the two immediately took off.

“Oh for fuck’s sakes, fucking after them then!” Thomas yelled.

Strickland roared, first to follow, but Raj immediately spun on his heel and brought his ax down in a surprise strike. Strickland’s eyes, nearly hidden in a bulbous face covered in overgrown beard hair, bulged out, but he failed to respond fast enough as Raj’s weapon split open his face. With a sickening thunk, the steel sank in, halfway splitting his skull open before Raj grunted and kicked the oversized body away, watching it fall to the floor, twitching.

Thomas, however, saw it and laughed. “What a loser. Anyway, kill the Indian dude but get me CJ. Alive, but you can play with him a little.”

Raj considered facing off against the three women, even as they drew weapons, snarling like animals, but a sudden shifting by his feet caused him to withdraw. Strickland was getting up, the wound on his face stitching itself rapidly.

“Oh yeah, didn’t you know?” Thomas said. “I can share my gift. Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll—”

Raj turned and ran for his damn life.

“Damn it. Lucie, come here and carry me. Everyone else? Sick ‘em.”

Isabella was fighting for her damn life.

Ducking to the side, thrusting her spear, she hit her opponent, but the Spirit-infused girl just took the blow to her guts and tried to claw her face off anyway.

“Fuck!” Isabella cursed, falling back, whipping her spear around her to try and bully Okimi to the side. It somewhat worked, but the girl was a lot beefier than she’d been previously. At over seven feet tall, with bulging muscles and tiger stripes, the girl had become a mesh of human and feline, like a werewolf but for cats. Weretiger? Is that a thing?

Okimi snarled, swiping again, leaving trails of light in the air that Isabella barely avoided. Thankfully, the previously small area of the tea house had expanded, giving the two combatants plenty of room to maneuver. Judging by the confusion on Rebecca’s face, however—and the smirk on the Oni’s—Isabella was pretty sure the shop’s owner had provided this effect.

“Just die already!” Okimi shouted, voice as twisted as her body. She charged forward, forcing Isabella to leap to the side. The girl loved pouncing, it seemed, and so far Isabella hadn’t had much trouble avoiding it—the difference in their combat ability was immense.

“Maybe later,” Isabella said, panting. The problems she was facing were numerous though, the least of which were her quickly depleting endurance, and the fact that her damn spear couldn’t leave a permanent injury on Okimi. Even as she watched, the tiger-girl’s gut began to heal.

Damn it, I knew I should have gotten a Spirit-slaying weapon. She’d done her research, so she knew what was happening—the girl’s Spirit was simply restoring her. The only way to hurt a multi-faceted creature like this was to hurt both the girl and the Spirit at once. A tricky thing to prepare for, and while Isabella did have some options prepared, she hadn’t had unlimited funds. She’d had something else in mind, after all.

“Did you get them?” She heard Rebecca say from nearby. She didn’t risk glancing over—she didn’t need to. One of the students grunted in acknowledgment, and as Isabella dodged again, taking another meaningless swipe at her opponent, drawing blood that faded shortly after, she saw several more students distributing scrolls in the crowd. Rebecca had sent them to buy more dueling scrolls.

How the fuck am I going to get out of this? She wasn’t even thinking of turning this around anymore. Her brother was standing to the side, looking extremely uncomfortable as Rebecca’s goons filled the tea house. This was all going tits up.

“There’s still a chance to give up,” Rebecca cried out. “You don’t have to die in a death duel. Not if you offer me your life.”

“Eat shit!” Isabella replied, wincing as she got clipped by Okimi’s strange Spirit-claw attack. Her Mage Armor absorbed it, but it was running out. “I thought you wanted to give up anyway. Why are you even fighting this? I can set you free you stupid cunt!”

“Free?” Rebecca shouted back. “You can’t separate Solarus from me, not while I’m alive. The best you can do is to temporarily split us to leave me vulnerable. And that was your plan, right? Split us and kill me?”

“So?” Isabella squared off, slowly circling Okimi. She looked to be preparing yet another pounce. Fucking cats. “I heard about what you did, not just to your classmates, but on your first day after getting Solarus. Fucking jumped off the fourth floor of the Shopping District, head first. You were trying to kill yourself. Just think of me as assisted unliving yourself.”

She didn’t see the girl’s reaction, as she charged forward, catching Okimi off guard. With a sweep of her spear, she took the feet out from under the girl, following it up with a devastating blow to the throat. She heard her brother whoop in a cheer, but it died off when he saw the girl just struggle under the spear tip, the blood refusing to flow from what should have been a fatal wound. Isabella had to give up the attack as another swipe came out, nearly getting her legs. Okimi was up a heartbeat later, the only sign of her injury a gurgling, wet growl from her lips.

“You’re right,” she heard Rebecca say. “I did try to kill myself. For a while, I really wanted to die, but Solarus…Solarus wouldn’t let me. Even if I had succeeded, it wouldn’t matter. Death doesn’t free us, Isabella. It’s just the next stage of torment in this place.”

What the fuck is she talking about? Isabella thought, setting her spear, catching Omiki in another charge. This time, the weight of the infused girl was too much, snapping her spear, forcing her to fall back. Isabella scowled, pulling out a Repair Talisman and slapping it on, restoring her weapon with a flash of light and dance of wooden shards. This wasn’t going to work though—as prepared as she was, she couldn’t keep this up.

“You know Okimi tried to kill herself too,” the Golden Girl suddenly said. Isabella started, eyes glancing away.

“What—” she said, before shouting in alarm, a claw scoring against her Mage Armor. Stupid fucking idiot, don’t take your eyes off her! Isabella managed to parry the follow-up blow, then kicked Okimi backward to free up some space. She felt wetness on her chest and saw blood on her opponent’s claws. Fuck, armor’s out. She chugged a health potion before resetting her stance, not that it would help. She’d probably be dead before it took effect.

“All the Bound are like that actually,” Rebecca said. “Not all of them took those measures, of course, but all of them gave up. Hid in their rooms, or wasted their time playing around instead of training. Solarus helped me find them. Helped me give them purpose. I…I can’t stop him anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Excuses!” Isabella said, coming to terms with what she had to do. “So the fuck what? You gave up? And want to force everyone to keep going because some Spirit made you do it? Grow some balls, tell it to shove off, and then fix shit.”

“It doesn’t work like that!” Rebecca replied. “You don’t understand what it's—”

“Oh spare me the fucking pity party, door greeter!” Isabella spun her spear in front of her, warding Okimi off. “Do some damn research, get some real allies. You had options but fucked it all up. You don’t deserve the gift you got, and I will make you answer for that. But first? You’re fucking cat dies.”

I didn’t want to do this but fuck it. It was this or die, after all. Her mind connected to the Jade Exorcists Gems studded in her ears, cycling through the Formations stored within. They were a powerful Foci set specifically engineered for the opponents she faced. The problem was, she didn’t have enough Mana to fight all of them. Not even close.

Okimi snarled, sensing the building energy, and moved to pounce again. Isabella glided to the side, one foot tracing on the ground. Light appeared where she’d drawn the line, and Okimi winced when noticed, backing away, startled. Realizing what it was, she tried to leap back, but Isabella swept her spear down, catching the side of the light, and striking it.

Instantly the light shot out, curving as it went. It encircled the Bound girl, spinning around until it found its way back to where she’d started it, finishing the circle.

“Jade Prison of Spirit’s Lament,” Isabella said, speaking the dumbass trigger words. Instantly, the light grew brighter, almost seeming to drift up like a wall. Okimi tried to escape, leaping over the line, only to slam into an invisible force. She rushed around, clawing and bashing to no avail as Isabella panted, wiping blood from her nose. Backlash, she realized. Great. Gonna get my use out of that stupid healing potion I guess.

“I knew it,” Rebecca said. She was glaring fiercely at Isabella, who turned to look at the crowd. She counted no less than six additional scrolls as she chugged a Mana potion.

Fifteen Mana for the Spell, she considered, though she had no idea why such a low-tier Spell was so damn expensive even with Foci. I’ve only got a tank of sixteen, so even if I get all the Mana back from the potion that leaves me with eleven. It costs ten for the Spiritual Essence Rending Stance, which won’t last long. I don’t have enough. Not fucking enough.

She drank a second Mana potion, wincing at the strong medicinal taste. She could feel her body buzzing—she’d taken several alchemical boosters earlier in preparation so she was obviously nearing a limit for toxicity for the day. How was she going to get her and her brother out of this? The only reason she could imagine they hadn’t attacked him was because it could count as interfering with the duel. And if her classmates showed up now they’d just get swarmed by Rebecca’s goons.

Isabella had no idea what to do.

Millie had no idea what to do.

Her crystal ball was laid out in front of her, Tarot cards splayed out. Yet, as furiously as she flipped through her book, she couldn’t find an answer. The potential Spells in the book were just too simple. The three tier-one’s she knew; Consult the Cards, Lesser Omen, and Wheel or Woe had their uses, but she’d tried Consult the Cards and it hadn’t given her anything useful!

Similarly, the more advanced spreads weren’t much better. Like before, she didn’t even have a reason to think these would be Spells, she just assumed they’d do something like the others had. Further, she was making her best guess as to a ‘name’ for what they did based on the loose descriptions given.

For example, she had Read Person, which was a tier-two spread that gave generalized information about a person’s past, present, and future. Technically, it could be cast as a tier-one but if the diviner did that then the answers were super vague. It was designed with nuance in mind, requiring the Spellcaster to supply other Tarot cards to frame the nature of the reading and focus on what information was presented. The three cards drawn after would then supply the past, present, and future in the framework created.

The second option she found had seemed promising at first, but she wasn’t sure how to get it to work. Examine Outcome was also a tier-two Spell, aimed at helping a diviner flush out the details of a course of action. The problem was, it didn’t tell you what courses were available—it only lets you explore theoretical ones you created with the cards. While that certainly had its uses, it was all but worthless to her now given her ignorance of what was going on. She needed information!

Which had brought her to her last tier-two option: Spiritual Awareness. It actually sounded mildly interesting, all things considered, but she also knew it was an immediate bust. The spread focused on examining the mind, body, and soul of a target for determining imbalances and ailments. Her Eyes of Fate was giving her plenty of that.

“Prognostics: everyone’s fucked and I’m wasting time being useless,” she muttered. Come on, she thought. There has to be something. What about tier-threes? Anything? I have to be able to…

She paused as she realized something. One of the examples discussed at the end of the book didn’t fit. She’d tried many of the spreads out before when she’d had some time to dabble, that was how she’d verified the existence of these tier-two Spells after all, but many of the spreads in the book were simply repeated. Listed again, but with suggestions on how to focus the reading, like alternate versions of the same Spells.

The reason the last one stood out to her now was that it was, in many ways, just a tier-four version of Read Person. Just more aspects to it, deepening the reading. Specifically, several spreads within the layout itself. She realized now, looking at it, it was a lot like how Spells had Components.

Was it possible that spreads could be combined into more complex readings? Could she build Axiom Spells using what she already had? It seemed impossible without something to refer to, but wasn’t that all improvised Spellcasting was? As she explored the possibility, she suddenly realized she’d overlooked something so damn simple, she wanted to scream.

She set the Six of Cups in the middle of the table, forming the beginning of a Celtic cross. It was the card she most associated with Katelyn, but now she needed to begin setting up Read Person from it: only she was going to completely change it. Rather than continuing the normal cast, she interrupted herself by placing a card, sideways on top of the one she’d already placed down. Lesser Omen.

The card was not what she expected. It was the Three of Swords, showing its bleeding heart held by chained hands. There was only one person she associated with that.

“Liam,” she whispered. Then, she felt the magic of the Spell was taking shape. She knew now what to do, the Eyes of Fate practically laying out the spread before her, as though impatient.

The third card, placed under the cross, was The Devil. A liar or trickster had set this up, set Katelyn up, or set Millie up? Hell, maybe it set all of them up. To the left of the cross, the fourth card was the Ten of Swords. While she associated that with Catherine, she could tell that wasn't what this represented. This was an event in the recent past, and the card suggested…betrayal? Something she had trusted in or didn’t expect to be an issue had turned on her.

Above the center, she set the fifth card down. It represented potential, not for the outcome, but for the people involved. She stared, momentarily chilled, however, as she gazed at Death. Thankfully, in the Tarot this card wasn’t as macabre, but it did suggest strife and change. Mostly spiritual or mental in nature as a harsh lesson was learned.

The last of the cross, on the right, was the future. What would happen if steps weren’t taken. Almost predictably, it was The Tower. I’m really starting to hate that card.

To the right of the cross, however, she set out more cards. Four, top to bottom, channeling Examine Outcome, because now she actually had something to target. Cards for the target's current attitude on the problem, how the environment was influencing them, what hopes and fears Katelyn had right now, and, of course, the most probable outcome to her situation.

Ten cards in all. It was as complex as the Spell she’d cast to commune with the Weaver, but something was different about it. Even as the Spell took shape, drawing mostly from her Crystal Ball, it didn’t feel like a high-level Spell. That was probably a good thing though; Millie’s Potency was so low that she should have been suffering severely for overextending her weak Soul on something so intense. But no, strangely enough, it felt more like she’d layered Spells together, chaining them together to make something complex but not as strong.

Is that really possible? She thought, as the Spell slowly took shape. Her resonance could only handle a few rounds of this, but she could gauge the Spell well enough: it’d be done in less than twelve seconds. That was a very long cast time, and yet despite the low tier of the Spell, she saw it drinking in ten Mana—about one per card. Either I’m stupidly inefficient here, or this really is multiple Spells going off at once. Fuck, how much about Magic do I still not understand? Is this Ritual Casting then? What even is this?

Her distracted mind, left unburdened thanks to her Tarot cards handling the bulk of the mental strain, eventually got back on track as the Spell finished casting. She sighed in relief when she felt the tension give way; she hadn’t taken any Backlash and her patched-up Soul held. Then, it lit up as a flood of information filled her mind.

Bizarrely, she saw the information not just inside herself but projected onto the Crystal Ball as well. It was easier to parse, she could tell, though she wasn’t sure why this was happening. Perhaps, with the eyes being the windows to the Soul, her reflection cast on the Crystal Ball was showing her that window, making it easier to understand?

She saw darkness at first. A swirling, misty abyss, with an even greater darkness within. Shard. Whispers came out, followed by familiar screams. Liam. The image changed, flickering to his club, showing his writhing form on the ground. He stopped suddenly, slumping like a corpse before his eyes opened. While the pupils remained that distressing black of his, the sclera had changed color. Red. It didn’t look like Liam at all anymore.

Next, the scene shifted, like shadows flickering through the Academy. Several hovered outside the Weaver’s Hall, which in the image showed up as a brightly lit building, almost like a snowglobe in the way some transparent barrier covered it. Was that the Wards?

But soon people left, and the shadows followed, one flitting up to some unknown man in a dark robe. He smiled sickeningly as it whispered to him, calling to several others as they entered the Archives. Once inside, he made gestures and chants until demonic figures appeared. Most were bestial looking, though some were humanoid. One, in particular, stood out, hunched over like a crone but with the aesthetics of a vulture. With glasses and a book, it smiled with a beak-like mouth filled unsettling with teeth. In the corners of the vision, Millie saw blades, ten in total dancing at the edge. What the fuck?

The image returned to Katelyn, with Catherine at her side. They climbed the Archives, and she watched their progress with a growing pit of unease. She could see the blades in the background, weaving a dark net that hung overhead. When the two reached the ninth floor, the net fell and bodies threw themselves at the two of them. Catherine got away, but Katelyn didn’t.

She could feel Katelyn’s pain now, spiked with fear as they dragged her away. They stripped her down, taunting her and mocking her, into the muggy, rancid pit that was Liam’s club. She wasn’t sure what had changed about it, but it was different—the very atmosphere had a wrongness to it that made her skin crawl. They dragged Katelyn into it, throwing her in a cage hanging above the dance floor as people and demons partied below, several engaging in carnal activities. They fed Katelyn drugs, made her breathe in their stench, and she watched in horror as a dark tendril pierced her, planting a seed that took root in her friend.

This is the future, she realized, sensing it with the Eyes of Fate. If I don’t change anything, this will happen several days from now. I have to—her thoughts were interrupted as she watched the seed bear fruit, blackness filling Katelyn’s veins as she writhed in agony. Mille clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream, as she saw Katelyn’s deepest wish mutated into a dark parody of her prayers as her stomach swelled.

Seething in fury, she watched as the person she knew, the Godmother of her child, had their soul torn apart from the inside out by that seeping corruption, cracking it open like an egg and drinking its contents. Only a twisted echo of her friend remained as a darkness moved in to fill her, wearing her face. The creature that was left stared at her with red eyes.

The blades at the edges of the vision finally drew back. She heard Liam’s laughter echoing as the image faded, the last view of him making a beckoning gesture towards her. He captured her to lure me in, she realized. But as it disappeared, she could finally see the one pulling the strings.

The Fortune-Teller.

“You? Why would you…” She trailed off. “Is this more Karmic rebalancing? How much are you going to take from us? How can you—”

She cut off as she felt the Spell end but the Fortune-Teller remained, his visage vivid in the Crystal Ball. He smiled, lifting his mandibles as he splayed his bladed hands. Ten swords for fingers. That was a damn hint of his nature, wasn’t it?

“Hello, Initiate McArthur,” he said calmly. She wanted to scream. “To answer your question, and speed this along, I can assure you that this time, my actions have nothing to do with your Karma.”

“Then why?” Millie demanded. “Why are you orchestrating this?”

“Orchestrating? Me?” He covered his chest demurely, the sound of knives scraping metal ringing through the orb. “You mistake what the cards show you, my dear. I didn’t create this situation, I simply stepped in to help…coordinate its effectiveness.”

Millie felt her teeth grinding. “Fine. Why are you stepping in, fucker, if this has nothing to do with my Karma?”

The Fortune-Teller smiled again. She was convinced the bastard had two smiles: one for genial effect, and then one wide-brimmed one for unsettling her. Like the damn Cheshire cat. Did that make her Alice?

“Because, Initiate. You get so few opportunities like this, you know.”

“Opportunities?”

“Of course,” he insisted. “This is a learning opportunity for you. Your friends are in grave danger and Fate conspires against you. Do nothing, and several of them will die. And those that do survive, well…let’s just say what’s left of them won’t be on your side.”

His smile shifted back to genial. She knew now what it really was: him mocking her.

“The mother of all understanding,” she whispered. Eden had told them, hadn’t she? Magincia put its students in life or death situations because it spurned learning and growth. “So what, you’re my fucked up tutor in this?”

“Ah, and now you finally understand,” he said warmly. “I told you I would act against you, but I may have misled you by letting you think it was just to help deal with your negative Karma. In actuality, I exist as a catalyst to assist in your growth. Speaking of which, your next manual should be arriving now.”

Even as he spoke, an unknown Servitor entered the room. Millie’s robot tensed, but the courier simply came in, set down a wrapped book-shaped item, then withdrew without a word. Millie’s robot stepped up, opening the cover warily as Millie watched.

The book had an image of the Fortune-Teller on it, bladed hands hovering over a Crystal Ball as cheap-looking mist billowed around him. In bold, obnoxious lettering the book’s title read: Tarot for Dummies, A Reference Manual for Millie McArthur!

Millie couldn’t help it—tears of frustration formed in her eyes. “Why are you like this?” She said quietly.

“Oh? And I went to so much effort to put this together,” he said, mandibles raising back into the cruel, sadistic smile that unnerved her.

“I’m going to kill you,” Millie whispered. “One day, somehow. I’m going to kill you.”

“Yes, Millie. You will,” he said, his words shocking her. “I look forward to that day. That, however, is the future. For now, let us focus on the present. Open your manual to the Table of Contents and familiarize yourself with it. After that, your first lesson will be on simple Clairvoyance Spells to gauge distant situations properly, then we’ll move on to the manipulation of hostile Fate Weavings and long-range hexing. I trust I don’t have to motivate you, Initiate, to stay focused. The lives of your friends depend on it.”

Oh, you can count on it, asshole. She wiped away the tears and opened the book.