“Your name is Pavlo, right?” Ceyda asked.

The servant who replaced Danette looked at her. “Yes? What do you need?”

“A few weeks ago, I was in town and got lost. A few locals helped me, and I wanted to send a letter to them. I was just wondering how well you knew everyone in Bricketfriar,” Ceyda said brightly.

Pavlo stroked his beard. “Do you know who the locals were that helped you?”

“A boy named Gilbert, a boy named Aster, a boy named Lyle, a girl named Danette, a girl named Natalia, uh--”

Pavlo nodded. “Oh, yes. I know of them.”

Ceyda nodded, beaming. “I would like to thank them!”

Pavlo shifted his weight. “What do you want me to do, exactly?”

Ceyda held her hand out, with a few random coins she had stolen from her father’s wallet. “Please tell them that I live here, as well as a written letter.”

Pavlo stared at the money for a good long minute, but eventually pocketed it. Ceyda had no idea if she had underbribed him or overbribed him, and she wasn't about to ask.

“The letter?” Pavlo asked.

Ceyda took out a crumpled piece of paper from a small maroon pouch hanging from a thin belt.

“This isn’t sealed,” Pavlo said.

“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t expect it to be useful to anyone but my friends. In fact, feel free to read it, so if it gets lost, you can just tell them,” Ceyda replied.

Pavlo unfolded the piece of parchment paper, and took a few moments to slowly go through the words.

“The gem Opal is actually a noble, and it won’t help me,” Pavlo recited.

“Yes,” Ceyda said.

Pavlo shrugged. “Sure, Miss Lucrece.”

“Thank you, please don’t tell my parents, or anyone else about this!”

Pavlo awkwardly nodded and pocketed the paper. There was a sudden silence as Ceyda tried to figure out if there was anything else she could say. Based on her past experience and what Doc told her, asking this person for a favor was possibly already a great deal more of an issue than she realized, so she was going to leave it at that and not impose further.

Ceyda waltzed off to partake in the utter boredom that was her life. She didn’t want to expend energy on trying to figure out how to break free. For one, she didn’t want to give any of the mages a reason to think she was a problem, without at least a few people with her.

For another, she had some research to do.

She had to figure a way to learn the floor plan of the Blanche mansion. It was far away--further than all the other’s mansions. She wouldn’t be able to sneak off and check it out.

She also wanted to continue learning geography. If there was a rebel group out there, she needed to figure out where it could be, regardless of what her father implied.

There were of course, some obstacles.

The sporadic wounds had become more frequent. At any point in the day, a bloody gash would split Ceyda’s skin, before sealing back moments later. One time, her entire hand popped off, and it took all she had to not scream as she watched her hand grow back, completely as it was a few moments ago.

She had to bury her old hand in the garden. That was something she hoped to not have to do again.

She no longer dreamt of Esterath’s domain, and it had instead been replaced with nightmares of her being trapped in a dark, musty room, completely and utterly paralyzed. There was never any serial killer, or a volcano that was going to swallow her up, but it provided her with a great deal of terror all the same. There was a terrible noise that filled her ears like a rhythm, but it was something she couldn’t quite explain whenever she woke up.

Ceyda couldn’t help but wonder if it was the place Doc was being enclosed in the abyss. In some terrible little room with nothing to see, with some sort of evil, buzzing magical wall stopping anyone from touching them.

Then of course, there were the obstacles to the actual goals she had. Such as finding floor plans to Blanche mansion. Apparently these weren’t something that just existed for public use. She’d have to do something dastardly clever, or possibly convince her family to show up there for no reason.

She couldn’t even try and cast a spell. Occasionally a single spark of light would emit from her fingers, but all that would happen afterwards is she would be overcome with a strong desire to sleep.

Her parents had been thankfully quiet to her. They were most likely focused on preparing to see Mehdi. It was a few days away, and Ceyda couldn’t help but feel bitter knowing that she would most likely be leaving Nevan just as Doc was being taken there.

If the beacon in the basement was still there, it was possible she would be able to use that to enhance her own spell casting. Perhaps she could even use it to summon Doc. That was the only possible solution she could think of, and if there was any chance of it working, it probably would not work if Doc was in Nevan.

The amount of options were dizzying. Nothing was stopping her from just climbing out her window, trying to break the fall the best she could, and walking to the Blanche manor right now! Absolutely nothing! She could do it right now!

Right now.

Where there were mages. Who could rip her heart out.

She could of course, hypothetically survive that. But visualizing the image of her still beating heart in Rembrandt’s hand made the imagery worse. It had felt like death, and instead of it ending, it had lingered. Pain wasn’t supposed to last, not like that.

She traced her finger along her blanket’s covers, muttering each Avatar’s name under her breath.

Dorskina. Avatar of Power. Sphere of Strength. Gretian. Avatar of Life. Sphere of Nature.

She would need to keep those danged names memorized. It was the only way she was going to be able to recognize the magic she might end up seeing. Karani, Avatar of Sight. Sphere of Fate. Yore, Avatar of Protection. Sphere of--sphere of--

Shit.

Bzzt.

“Ceyda.”

Ceyda looked up from her bed to see her mother.

“Yes?”

“You’ll be meeting with the doctor tomorrow,” her mother said.

“Doctor Halls?”

“No. Doctor Verdell.”

Ughhh. Verdell lived in Haverdam, which was an hour long car ride from Bricketfriar.

“I expect you to be dressed and ready in the morning,” her mother continued.

Ceyda nodded vaguely.

“And do not claim I did not tell you about this, as I am telling you now.”

She would need to bathe tomorrow. She would probably need to bathe today, so as to prepare her hair for the process. Each one would probably take an hour in full, so if she gave herself two hours ahead of time… there was also setting out clothes. If she did that tonight, she could cut her time getting ready tomorrow in half, assuming her mother didn’t send her up to change.

Two baths. Time to take care of hair both times after that. Clothes. And then mentally preparing herself for a long drive. And she still would need to pack for visiting Mehdi afterwards. It was almost noon, so it could probably get done, she would just need to start moving now.

“Lunch will be in ten minutes,” her mother reminded Ceyda, before leaving her alone.

Right. Food. That was probably a thing she should do. For some reason her mother was on a broth kick, and all their meals had consisted of thick, oily broth, with no real side dishes. It was essentially tasty salt water, which Ceyda wasn’t complaining about, but it certainly wasn’t entirely filling. Granted, she usually despised the mushiness that accompanied the vegetables that were so often placed in the broth, so perhaps it was for the best.

Today was no different. A week and a half of broth and thin bread. Had it really been that long? It was like Ceyda had fallen asleep and suddenly all this time passed.

Had she always felt like this at home? That time just kept moving faster and faster, whether she liked it or not? Had she just never noticed until adrenaline coursed through her veins and every moment mattered?

She stumbled down into the dining room, where a green broth greeted her. She wrinkled her nose. This one looked far less appetizing. Did it have a pea base? Why would anyone do that? The point of good soup was that it was clear, but still had a savory taste. She could already tell from the subtle lumping of the soup she would not like it one bit.

“The Montilyets said they need it by the end of the month,” her mother said to her father.

Nothing important. Ceyda sat down, slumped her shoulders and rested her elbow on the table. Her mother didn’t say anything. She didn’t know how long it would last, but being kidnapped had its perks.

She tapped her spoon idly against her napkin. Did she dare even bother? She could just wait until it was night, sneak into the kitchen, and steal whatever food had been left out. Surely there was something better than this travesty against all of divinity.

“It will get done,” her father said.

“Is it going to get done on time or just get done? Because--”

“--I said it will get done, it’s going to get done--”

“You said that last time--”

“--and I finished it last time. You just don’t remember.”

“Well Thoreau complained about it.”

“I never received any complaints. When did this happen?”

Ceyda chewed the inside of her cheek. If her father was leaving for a business trip, would that be a good time to sneak into his demesne? If she got caught, she could probably pass it off as her brain still being addled but--

Her stomach churned. She had already been in one person’s demesne. And she hadn’t spontaneously combusted into flames. And if locii were anything like demesne’s, then she had also intruded on Reiner’s.

She wished toxic ruminations worked the way her mother said they did. If just visualizing things made her actually do it, she would have done so many things by now. She would also possibly be dead, but that was besides the point.

"Twenty percent loss on a shipment isn't even cause for alarm, I just don't see the issue," her father said.

"The issue is that people will talk Aloysius. Thoreau was furious!"

“I’ll go after Ceyda’s nerve cleansing, how about that?”

“Please, do so,” her mother responded.

“What’s a nerve cleansing?” Ceyda asked, not looking up from her terrible soup. If it involved a syringe, she would riot.

“A type of lobotomy,” her father replied without missing a beat.

A silence overcame the table.

Ceyda slowly lifted her eyes up at her parents. Her father’s jaw hung agape in shock. Her mother was staring at her father in horror.

“What?” Ceyda rasped, fairly certain she had misheard something grave. Her bracelet started to softly vibrate, almost as if in anticipation for her spiked heart rate.

“Aloysius!” her mother snapped. “What is wrong with you?”

“It--it just slipped out--” her father sputtered. “Uh--I mean I’m not wrong.”

“Aloysius!”

“Wait, is that my appointment with Doctor Verdell?” Ceyda sputtered. “Is that--”

Her voice hitched, her bracelet shocked her. Lobotomies were for criminals and coreless, which now that she thought about it, was possibly not a good thing at all, maybe. But that would be something she could unpack later, when she wasn’t being told that she was getting one!

“Ceyda, dear,” her mother said. “It’s a simple, harmless procedure. You have an overabundance of miasma from the trauma.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ceyda,” her father said kindly. “Overreacting to it just because of the word is like if you thought about thinking of killing someone was the same as hating someone’s dress. Both are toxic ruminations but one leads to you getting arrested and the other does not.”

“Then you get one!” Ceyda yelled, standing up. Her bracelet shocked her, and Ceyda hissed in pain. Stupid fucking bracelet.

Bzzt.

Stupid fucking bracelet.

“Ceyda!”Her mother cried out, slamming her hands on the table in anger. “Sit down right now!”

“Absolutely not!” Ceyda hissed.

“You were gone for several days! Do you have any idea the stress you put us under? What we had to do?” Her mother yelled, pointing at Ceyda.

“You can tell me if you wish, but I do not care!” Ceyda yelled back. “I care about what is happening to me!”

“You selfish little girl, don’t you see we’re doing all this for you?”

There it was. Ceyda was being selfish. Again. And she didn’t care. Not now, and certainly not from them.

“No, you are not!” Ceyda hissed, she angrily slammed her chair into the table, and her father sighed, put down his utensils, and stood up. Ceyda’s heart froze.

The dining room had gone silent. Her father walked towards her, a pained, annoyed smile on his face.

Ceyda took a step backwards, waving her hands in defense. “Stay back, father.”

“Ceyda…” her father said quietly.

“No! I am serious! I am not-- I am not--”

Her father closed the gap, grabbing her hands. She tried to wrenched away, but his grip held strong. A brief scream escaped her lips.

She broke free with a single hand, and hit him across the chest in protest.

He responded with a slap across her face.

“Ceyda!” her father yelled, shaking her by the arms. “Listen to me! Look at what you did to your mother! Look at the pain you caused! You are sixteen years old! You’re a lady! You need to start acting like one! Instead of a child--”

“I don’t want to!” Ceyda yelled desperately, her face reddening from the stress and pain. “I would rather act like a child than whatever you want me to become!”

Her father’s face darkened. “Fine, then.”

He grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her upstairs. She could have dropped her weight to slow down his pace, like she used to do when she was younger, but that struck her as a bad idea.

Instead she followed, her mind racing at what happened next. Ultimately this was just another fight, each one worse than the last one, but nothing different or new. But what happened tomorrow…

Her father opened the door to her room, and Ceyda stepped in, folding her arms in anger. He shut the door, and there was the distinctive noise of a lock clicking.

“If you want to be a child, you’ll be treated like one,” her father said quietly. “And maybe you’ll realize we’re just trying to help you.”

“Help me?” Ceyda spat. “You wish to help me? You’d be better helping me if you never spoke to me again! You’d be better helping me if you just turned all your attention to Mehdi--I know that’s what you really wanted anyway!”

There was no response. Her head was woozy. The words kept pouring out. If she said enough, her mother would inevitably get mad and open the door to most likely break something Ceyda owned while screaming about how cruel Ceyda was. Fine by her.

“Why not just lock me here for all eternity?” Ceyda continued. “I could starve and grow frail and become the ghost you deny exists! I would much prefer that than ever having to look either of you in the face ever again!”

Silence.

Ceyda screamed, clawing at her own hair. Perhaps if she screamed loud enough someone would think she was being murdered and come check in on her. But all that greeted her afterwards was a ringing in her ear, a hurt throat, and an armed numbed by her bracelet.

Ceyda staggered woozily. She felt sick, like she was about to throw up. Perhaps antagonizing her parents further was not a good idea in this state.

She had been so hoping Doc was wrong about toxic ruminations, but here she was, speaking vile words, and now she wanted to faint. Her mother had been right. Damn. She hated that. Maybe it was all fake. Maybe this was all an elaborate dream. Maybe that’s why she needed a neural cleanse. Doc was fake and magic was fake and everything was fake.

That would really suck if it was true.

Unable to stand, Ceyda drifted to her bed, and collapsed, not a further thought in her head.

There was a thud.

Ceyda jumped and looked around wildly in her now very dark room. As she did, she saw a rock hit her window, before thunking off and falling to the ground.

Oh no. Axe murderers. Here to axe murder her.

Ceyda grabbed the first weapon she saw, a metal rod from the fire place, and edged towards the window. In the dark was two figures--Lyle and Danette.

The two waved their hands frantically, and Ceyda waved back. She went to the window and tried to figure out how to open it. After a few moments of pushing on the heavy wood, it creaked open.

“You found me!” Ceyda said quietly.

“We thought you were dead!” Danette said. “What happened to Merlin? What happened to Opal? What did you mean by your letter?”

“Danette, chill, let’s rescue the damn girl first,” Lyle cut in.

Ceyda paused. Did she want to leave now? She had been planning on doing more research and possibly scoping out the Blanche mansion at a party but--

Merlin was still missing.

That meant he was decidedly not okay.

Her parents wanted to get her lobotomized.

The grimoire was to be shipped off to Nevan, shortly, a city Ceyda knew nothing about, except that it was very large and very filled with mages.

Which meant they had to find Doc now.

Ceyda nodded. “Yes please. Meet me at the front gate--”

“Uh,” Danette said. “We sort of brought a ladder.”

Ceyda’s eyes widened. That was so kind of them! “Oh, okay! I’ll go by ladder then!”

She returned to her room and grabbed her glasses, and some other relevant things she’d need, and threw them into her pillowcase.

This time she was at least partially prepared.

When she returned to the window, sure enough, a rickety ladder had been set up, with Danette and Lyle holding the bottom for stability. The front gate would have been a lot easier than this, but who was she to turn down an opportunity to climb out of her window on a ladder?

She touched the ground, and was accosted by two tight hugs from Danette and Lyle.

“Opal is really a noble, like me. Only--way richer, and a lighthouse. Her real name is Amber Blanche. Which means she’s the daughter of the noble family you tried to rob the grimoire from,” Ceyda said breathlessly.

Danette and Lyle froze mid hug.

“What,” Danette said.

“Do you need me to repeat anything?” Ceyda asked. “Did you not get my message?”

“We did! But--the Blanche’s--” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Are you fucking with us?”

“Opal said she was a servant at the Blanche house--” Lyle cut himself off. “She made it like she had moved here or something.”

“And we never even saw her fucking parents--fuck! I just assumed they were dead or some shit--” Danette was muttering.

Ceyda was surprised they trusted her so easily, and then it occurred to her that they might think she was too stupid to lie, if they had been listening to Opal these past days. Well, it worked to her advantage at least!

“As for Merlin--I--I don’t know. When I was leaving the basement, a mage named Rembrandt had him. And I passed out immediately afterwards,” Ceyda said.

“...so my brother could just be. Dead,” Danette said flatly.

Ceyda swallowed dryly. “I. do not know.”

“Shit,” Danette muttered, kicking over a rock. “Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen--it wasn’t supposed to be like this--shit!”

“Where’s your stupid magic book?” Lyle asked.

“Not here. I suspect it’s back at the Blanche mansion. I was looking into ways I could get it back. I could probably use it to find Merlin if he’s still alive,” Ceyda said quietly.

“Then lets go now, we know the layout, we have maps from when Opal--or whatever that lady’s name is,” Danette said.

“Merlin’s probably dead. You realize that right?” Lyle said wearily.

“The fuck he is!” Danette hissed.

“Why don’t we have this conversation while we walk towards the town,” Ceyda suggested brightly.

The three started to walk in silence.

“Fuck. Wait. Is Opal the reason you were ganked?” Lyle asked.

“I… don’t know,” Ceyda said truthfully. “I only found out she was a noble when she showed up at a party. And she said she didn’t but--well I want to believe her.”

“She wouldn’t have done that. She was planning a rebellion. Why would she get rid of our one chance at revolution?” Danette asked.

“Opal told me her end game and it seemed like she enjoyed being a rebel more than actually, er, rebelling,” Ceyda said. “I don’t know, to be honest. Every time I asked her a question she just treated me like an idiot.”

“Well, you’re not an idiot,” Lyle said, placing a hand on Ceyda’s shoulder.

Ceyda beamed. “Thank you!”

“You’re actually annoyingly smart, just uh--in a weirdly specific way,” Lyle said. “Granted, we’d probably be weirdly smart too if we had been born into nobility.”

“Did Merlin look injured when Rembrandt had him?” Danette asked abruptly.

“...no. I don’t know. It’s a blur by this point. Just adrenaline. To be honest, part of me doesn’t even remember Merlin. I just remember remembering Merlin. Or maybe I remember that I remembered that I remembered--”

“Yeah, okay, we get it, chill,” Lyle cut in. “Look, Merlin’s one of my best friends, but--”

He stopped talking, and stopped walking momentarily.

“Fuck, I dunno. There’s nothing I can say here. This fucking sucks.”

They were sad. Sad in ways Ceyda couldn’t fix.

She hated this.

She knew what she had to do. Whether they agreed with her or not, she was breaking into that mansion tonight.