After much deliberation, Sybil finally decided that she knew what this rune was. The cryptic one that Patterfall had carefully scribbled sideways within his notebook. He had said that it had been dug out of the furnace, and was the only remaining notebook of the students who had built the golem that murdered Lydia Larkin.

There were sensory runes that the golems in Carapace used to know when they were leaving the edges of the mist region. It was so they knew when they were at risk of losing power. Each mist region had a rune attuned to the mist within it. “Corpse of the Hollow,” was the translation for Carapace, while “Fumes of the Shattered Heart,” was Fogbloom’s.

Sybil had etched this design on a thin coding plate that she had inserted inside one of the library golems. She watched it shutter to life on her desk. Without hesitation, it scuttled towards her and began to paw and pry at her fingertips. When her hand shifted into mist, the beetle started to make a whirring noise, practically going berserk where her hand once existed.

“Child of Dying Dust,” whispered Sybil.

She knew a rune existed for detecting prophets of Bellia. That’s how they had chased away her assassin grandfather before. It looks like they took the detection rune and used it to create a golem to track down other prophets. Either they already knew that Lydia was one, or they hoped one would be found in Carapace.

If somehow Sybil could get the blueprints for that golem… She picked up the golem, deactivated it, and pulled out the plate. It would be everything she needed to prove her father innocent. He would have his status as an inventor back… That was something that both of them had secretly wanted.

Sybil began to thunk her head against the table. It was better for her father to just get out of Carapace completely. Maybe, if she truly had Patterfall on her side, she could use this information to get her father a position at the university. Other than that, it was completely useless.

As long as she was stuck being Margret, and as long as there were people out there after her life, she was useless. She couldn’t be with her friends, or help her father, or even become a knight. Delay after delay of hunting down the truth was starting to take a toll on her mind.

With a heavy sigh, Sybil put the notebook away and retrieved the drafting paper that Patterfall had gotten her. No one at the golem research club did manufacturing. Apparently, Sybil also had to teach Patterfall how to write up drafts that blacksmiths would understand. Part of their problem was that they had no master plans for their pieces, and getting replacement parts that fit was a lengthy and tiring process.

Sybil was used to drafting for Chickadee. Chickadee also understood how to read her blueprints, but it shouldn’t be that much harder to dumb it down a little so it’ll be foolproof for any blacksmith to make.

There was a loud knock at the door. “Margret? Are you almost ready to go?”

“... Eh?”

Sybil glanced down at the drafting paper she had just started on… It was completely covered in work. Did she do it again? Did she black out concentrating so hard that she forgot to sleep? Her eyes flicked over to the clock, where she realized that’s exactly what happened.

“I’m sorry, Valerie! I-I’ll be ready in ten minutes!”

“Make certain you wear your best uniform today! Prince Duxton is visiting!”

Sybil scrambled to hide everything under her bed and yank on her uniform. The women were responsible for decorating their skirts. Many chose flowers from the flowered noble families, hoping to catch the attention of one of their single men. Meanwhile, Sybil’s skirt was covered in leaves, because she couldn’t be bothered to learn any other designs. She had also only bothered to decorate one skirt, because she only needed one nice one.

She finished buttoning on her shoes, fixed her wig on her head, and raced downstairs. Not that Sybil cared about seeing Duxton, she just wanted to know if he had found out anything useful. His appearance in the city was supposed to be the launching point of their subterfuge mission, but it didn’t seem like any progress was being made.

But it didn’t look like today would be a useful visit. Her feet dragged behind her during Duxton’s tour of Women’s Studies. He let Valerie do most of the talking, merely content to put on the polite face that Sybil had seen him do so many times before. The one he made whenever he was eternally screaming from boredom.

“Now, what’s this right here?” Duxton paused by a quilt hanging on the wall.

“That’s our autumn quilt,” replied Valerie. “We make one every year to celebrate our sisterhood. Each of us contributes a square to it.”

Duxton’s gaze drifted to the bottom row, where one square lay. There were three triangles that had been clumsily stitched on next to a crooked, misshapen diamond. “... And who did that one?”

Valerie hesitated for the briefest of moments. “Miss Margret Miller. She is the one you rode your carriage with during your last visit, my lord.”

“Ah… I see,” said Duxton apathetically. He tossed a sneer at Sybil, but his eyes… His eyes were desperately trying to hold back his laughter. “Let’s carry on.”

Time and time again, when it came to the group displays, Duxton was keen to point out and criticize the worst. A short poem that lacked rhythm, a minimalistic flower arrangement that had dying twigs in it… Strangely, Sybil was oddly good at watercoloring, but only if it was in black and white.

Finally, Duxton believed he had enough evidence to make his point. “Why is this girl here?” He gestured to Margret, sneering again while he asked.

“Well, my lord, she was granted a literary scholarship,” replied Valerie. “I know that she has struggled a lot since she first arrived, but I believe that she’s a vibrant gem that is, perhaps, in dire need of polishing.”

“Yes, the girl who compared the duties of a woman to that of a horsefly in her poem is the one who won a literary scholarship?” Duxton turned to Sybil. “Margo.”

“It’s Margret,” she whispered back.

“Phillip Watermint authored 'Two Men's Dismal Bluff.' What did you think of the theory that the two men referred to in the title were, in fact, the deuteragonist’s daughters?” Duxton folded his arms and raised a brow.

There he goes. Playing tutor once again. Duxton was asking about one of the last books listed in the curriculum that Lady Till wanted her to read. Due to the summer events, Sybil hadn’t gotten a chance to get to it yet, and Duxton absolutely knew that.

Sybil began her reply in a soft voice, mumbling in hopes that no one would make her out clearly. “Though the theory has merit, one must look at the book as a whole. The symbolism hidden in a title isn’t everything.”

“That novel is a main staple of modern literature and you haven’t even read it.” Duxton didn’t bother to ask her to repeat her statement. He already knew she was making something up. “Miss Valerie, I applaud the efforts of the women here, but this one blemish has done nothing but stain the traditions you lot have so carefully tended. Name at least one thing she is good at.”

Valerie looked at Sybil, who started to violently shake her head back and forth. “We have been letting Miss Margret linger behind in some of her studies in exchange for allowing her more time to work on her… Uhm…” Sybil was now slashing her arms in the air. “She’s quite extraordinary when it comes to theater.”

“Theater?” Duxton had to bite onto his bottom lip for a moment to prevent himself from laughing out loud. “She does theater?”

“It actually isn’t all that impressive,” muttered Sybil.

Valerie stepped over to Sybil’s side and grasped onto her arm. “She’s very talented. You should hear her sing. We were all surprised when we first heard it in music class.”

The only reason why Sybil had volunteered to sing was because Tabitha had already called dibs on the triangle.”

“And her rendition of the Ebbing Iris is unlike anything I have ever seen before!” Valerie exclaimed. “It’s not like traditional ballet, but it’s still quite beautiful.”

“You should show it to him,” said Tabitha, who was trying to be helpful.

“I wouldn’t want to waste Prince Duxton’s time,” said Sybil through her teeth.

Duxton grinned. “Oh, but I have plenty of time, Margo. At least enough to spare to see you demonstrate something you’re actually good at.”

There was plenty that Sybil was good at, especially slapping Duxton across his face. It seemed like Duxton was in dire need of a slapping demonstration right at this very moment.

“Please perform the Ebbing Iris,” pleaded Tabitha. “It’s been so long since you’ve let any of us see how your progress has come along.” Behind her, the other girls were now making quiet requests that Sybil perform.

“... Fine,” grumbled Sybil. She bowed her head. “It would be my honor to…” Her voice drifted off as the sound of tinkling metal drifted through the air. That sound… It sent shivers up her spine and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Excuse me, but this place is closed off to visitors. Men need special permission to enter.” Valerie stepped forward, placing herself between the newcomer and the group.

“I have permission,” replied Udell apathetically. He had a man next to him, but his face was hidden behind a mask.

Duxton brushed Valerie off to the side. “He’s one of my men.” He then gestured for Udell to come closer. “You’re late.”

“I had trouble entering the university grounds.” Udell pulled out his Braytons’ identification and held it out for Valerie to see. The crossed pair of hooks lit up on it. “Udell Tardivel. Squire of Braytons. This is Odd, my family’s manservant.” He gestured to the masked man behind him.

Valerie’s face went pale. She took a step back and nodded her head. “My lord…”

“What’s with the fishing hooks?” Tabitha didn’t notice that Valerie had shirked back.

“They’re for catching large fish,” replied Udell in his usual monotone manner. “Is there a Miss Valerie in this group?”

Valerie partly raised a hand up.

“Odd,” said Udell as he raised a hand. He waved two fingers in Valerie’s direction. The masked man behind Udell took out an envelope and held it out for her to take. “I am being knighted in a private ceremony this Satyrday.”

“Congratulations,” said Valerie as she took the envelope.

Duxton put on half a grin. “Am I wedding you at the same time?”

“If it is not an inconvenience for my lord,” replied Udell.

“Eh? I was joking when I said that,” grumbled Duxton as he scratched the back of his head. “I’ll grant you a bonus in your first payment. Make sure she has something nice to wear.”

Udell bowed. “Thank you, my lord. Will your tour be over soon? I am eager to start my duties.”

“Margo was going to perform a little bit of theater for us.” Duxton tilted his head towards Sybil. “We’ll leave shortly after that.”

Sybil felt everyone’s eyes drift towards her. She politely bowed her head. “I will get ready now. Tabitha, will you please prepare the stage for me?”

Tabitha grumbled something about how the men should be the one preparing the stage, but all she did was earn herself a glare from Sybil. “Yes, of course.” She gave Sybil the thumbs up. “I know exactly where everything needs to go.”

Sybil thanked her and excused herself. She headed towards the practice hall and to one of the backrooms. The uniforms in women’s studies consisted of a white blouse with a green dress over them. The stockings underneath made it so that no one would see anything if the skirt, which ended at her knees, flipped up.

All she really needed to do was change her shoes. That, and convince the girl inside of her to pay attention. Sybil rested her hands on the vanity and stared at the mirror in front of her. This was it, this is what she had been practicing for.

Sure, Sybil never wanted to work on most of women's studies, so she did what she could to avoid them. Dancing and singing had just become one of those ways. This wasn’t about perfecting her art. This was about trying to come to terms with the crazy priestess who had been forced inside her body.

“We work together.” Sybil’s eyes flashed blue for a moment. “This is my body, but we have to work together for this.”

The priestess was a dancer. Sybil could tell as much from the shoes that were on her shield. There was something about the Ebbing Ibis though, it drove the priestess mad and forced her to come out to play.

Sybil couldn’t help but see the irony in it. This song was the one that Alton had taught her. Now it was her strongest connection to the monster that was inside of her. Once again did Sybil’s eyes flash blue. It seemed to be an agreement. Sometimes she tried to do something during women’s studies, but dancing seemed to calm her.

She gave a nod to herself and the priestess and entered the hall. The stage had two tall poles with a tightrope stretched between them. Sybil nimbly climbed the pole and gently rested one foot on the rope.

“Together now,” she whispered.

Valerie was the one sitting at the piano. Even though she was nervous about performing in front of Udell, she was still a professional. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she played a song about betrayal, heartbreak, and regret.

The Ebbing Iris was the last song within The Coral Prince. It begins with a maid who overheard a plot to kill the royal family of the Coral Kingdom. Before she could warn them, she is murdered by the conspirators.

Once in the underworld, she pleads with Tria to send her back. Tria agreed to help, but is unable to return her to human form. The maid is turned into a scarlet ibis and sent back to the world of the living. She desperately cries out until her voice cracks, yet she cannot find anyone who can understand her.

Their plan was to assassinate the prince during his usual evening walk, so the ibis plans to intervene. As the assassin steadies his bow, she cries out a warning. Surprisingly, the prince understands her song and manages to save himself.

The prince goes on to save his family. He begins to search for his savior, eager to give her a reward. A village girl lies and says she was the one. When the prince asks what reward she would want, she says that she wishes to marry him. He agrees, saying that they will be wed by the end of the month.

However, the plot to end the Coral Kingdom is not over. The ibis, who chooses to continue her watch over the prince, learns that the village girl has been bought out by representatives from the mainland. They will dissolve the kingdom and unite it with the newly formed Lustro, headed by the Fogbloom family.

The ibis continues to try to warn the prince about his upcoming assassinations, succeeding in saving him several times, but he always mistakens the village girl as his savior. Finally, the day of his wedding comes, and the bride-to-be hears the ibis crying out. She asks the prince to shoot the bird down so that she can use its feathers to decorate her dress.

Not one to say no to his beloved, the prince fetches a bow from his guard. The first arrow strikes true, leading into the melody of the Ebbing Ibis. She tumbles to her death in the air, wondering why she has given up her second chance for this fool of a man. In her last moments of life, she admits to herself that this was nothing but a tale of greed.

The prince was a man she loved. That’s all this was. Everything she had done was for the sake of love, but she was to never receive a reward for her devotion. Her cries of agony and despair are recognized by the prince. He rushes in to catch her and attempts to stop the bleeding, but is unable to tell the difference between the red of her feathers and the red of her blood.

That’s where the story ends, but history states that the last prince of the Coral Kingdom was locked up for insanity. He claimed that he was in love with a swan that had saved his life. His real wife was a village girl he had mistakenly believed to be the one who saved him. After his death, the royal family was dissolved, and she was made the first Duchess of Coral.

Sybil’s role was to display every emotion that the ibis felt in her last moments. A wounded bird who questions her purpose in life and the foolishness of her heart. Acting was never her forte, but the priestess within her thrived on it.

Her voice quivered with agony as she sang. Each of her limbs twisted with nimble dexterity, as though they were broken. Below her, the girls of her audience gasped. It looked as though she was about to slip and fall at any moment, but her leg would catch herself and spin her back upward. Sybil truly looked like a dying bird.

“A bit obvious, isn’t it?” Udell muttered under his breath.

Duxton’s face had hardened. Not a hint of amusement lingered on his features. “... That is the other woman,” he whispered back.

The melody ended with Sybil dramatically falling, dangling by one foot from the tightrope. This was where the prince was supposed to pull the ibis down, but Tabitha often filled that role. To Sybil’s surprise, she felt masculine arms wrap around her as Duxton eased her off the rope.

“Put her away,” he whispered in her ear.

Sybil at least had partial control over her body, and the priestess was easily satisfied with just one song. “... Right,” she muttered back.

Tabitha was applauding loudly. “You’re absolutely going to steal all of the attention at the university performance!”

“You shouldn’t be doing this again,” whispered Duxton.

“It’ll be more suspicious if I refuse,” grumbled Sybil as she eased herself out of Duxton’s arms. “Thank you for assisting me, my lord,” she said with a curtsy.

“... Anytime. Is there someplace where we can speak in private?” Asked Duxton.

“The garden!” Tabitha immediately replied.

Valerie stood up and shook her head. “We got in so much trouble for letting her go off in private. Apologies, my lord, but it is unwise to let her go off without an escort.”

“Udell will do it.” Duxton gestured to Udell, who nodded. “We won’t have any issues as long as there is a third member of our party. Now, where is this garden?”

Valerie shooed away the other girls, telling them to carry on with their duties so the prince would have his privacy. She then led them to the garden, where Udell instructed her that Odd will be giving them the details of their upcoming wedding and marriage. Odd then bowed politely towards Valerie, and waited for the prince and company to leave before speaking to her.

Duxton sat down on a bench and waited for Sybil to join him. Udell stood nearby, within ear’s reach, but not to close that he seemed to be intruding. The prince kept his voice low, not wishing for anyone other than Udell to overhear our conversation.

“I know that you have your complaints,” he began.

“Because that man is crazy,” hissed back Sybil. “Hooks! He uses hooks! They even let him bring those hooks on university property, where weapons are supposed to be forbidden.”

“I told them I was a fisherman,” stated Udell in a matter of fact manner.

Duxton wouldn’t be swayed from his decision. “I told you that I need a man who can trust and one that would not raise suspicions. Udell can act as my guard and as our liaison. He will be visiting often to converse with his wife and to pass information between us.” His tone darkened. “And you need to keep that priestess quiet.”

“I thought that’s why you were wearing that ring,” snarled Sybil.

“And if I could keep you by my side at all hours of the day, I would,” he spat back. “You may have a point in being forced to perform. The women here are desperate to give women’s studies a purpose, and you are capable of being their shining star.”

“Or you can get me out of here before our Eatha Day performance,” replied Sybil.

“Udell is here now. My work will go much more quickly and smoothly, but it will still take time. We gather leads, we follow them. I have no idea how fractured or tangled this web is. All I can do is tread carefully until I find the right thread.” Duxton put his hand on top of Sybil’s. “I promise you that I will bring an end to this.”

Sybil chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t like Udell, but she did believe that he was absolutely loyal. One way or another, he was going to get the job done. “... Alright.”

“Another thing,” said Duxton as he leaned forward. He grasped his hands together and glanced over to Sybil. “I need all the information you have in order for this to work. No secrets between us. Isn’t that what we agreed to?”

Sybil nodded her head.

“Good,” replied Duxton as his tone became serious. “Now I need you to tell me everything you know about our dear friend Vex.”