Magnolia fell through the hole in the world.

The transition was not seamless, her senses overwhelmed with the curtain peeking that came from forcefully diving in her corporeal form into the astral proper. Her eyes could not bear the brunt of the information so she closed them and waited.

She waited until the sensory overload subsided and the nostalgic sounds of cicadas crescendoed around her.

Magnolia opened her eyes. She expected the world to look different but then there was this.

She was dwarfed by a tri-set of crimson pillars that craned endlessly towards the sky, no end to their peaks. Large runic grooves were carved in the frigid stone, their marks blinking with a dim white outline in random patterns across the monolith.

Magnolia was standing in an amphitheater or ceremonial house, walls busted open on all sides to have the dense foliage overrun the dilapidated columns with its pleasant greens and browns. The earth underneath her feet was soft, with the distinct imprints of shoe tracks leading south into a horizon of marshlands and stars.

Guess that’s where Bianca went.

Magnolia pulled her attention and body away from the monolith, the distinctive copper scent permeating the air around the stone inducing an unpleasant wave of nausea in the pit of her empty stomach.

“Let’s get going.” Magnolia whispered. She held back a lurch in her abdomen as she pulled out the compass.

The smooth round object had expanded slightly in her hands with the needle at the center unerringly pointed north despite her reorientations of the sphere. Smaller stars glittered in the sphere as well, although she wasn’t certain if this was merely a decorative flourish or an approximation of the other spells in the area. Their placement within the sphere remained static as she shifted it some more.

A mystery for another time.

Magnolia shook her head and proceeded to walk out of the ruins northward in search of her quarries domain.

The transition between the crimson ruins and the marshlands was stark, the unpleasant sound of squelching mud underneath her boots announcing the shift. What once was soft earth became mud and silt, with a clear film of water that clouded up as she walked.

She was in the Marshlands now and would take the necessary precautions. Rummaging through her bag of tricks, she pulled a small pouch of pebbles and continued on her trek. Magnolia made it a point to fling a small stone ahead of her path and walk amongst the ripples through the marsh.

“Dealing with water is so much more of a pain than anything else in the astral,” Her sisters advice echoed, “Shit like Visage Skimmers or abandoned holes in the world that led to somewhere else entirely are just at the tip of the fucking iceburg. Take it from me, your best friend in that environment are your ripples. Just be cognizant that the waves you’re making are your own when dealing with all that nonsense.”

Magnolia suppressed her disappointment, instead focusing on the pride her sister was sure to feel for her once she came out of this exam with a spell in tow.

She followed her sister's advice to the letter, traveling across the water within the ripples she helped create with her palmed pebbles and kept herself alert for other curiosities in the marshlands.

“Help!” The cry was distant and beleaguered, coming from behind her path. Magnolia didn’t hesitate to shift towards the tall grass and cattails at the edges of the marsh and crouch within the foliage. There were so many things that could be asking for help and she wasn’t capable of saving those that made genuine cries.

She held her breath as the cries grew louder and closer. She heard the person before they came into view, the panicked scrambling and splashing of legs across the water to maintain speed ahead of whatever might have been chasing behind them.

The student running across the marsh was gaunt with darting eyes and torn clothes caked in mud and grime. Her shrieks for help were shrill. Sections of her body had been torn into, trails of blue smoke emanating from the missing pieces of flesh as if whatever had taken a bite of the poor girl took every pound it sunk its teeth into, soul and all.

Magnolia wasn’t equipped to deal with something like this but at the very least she could attempt to inform the guides of the girl's whereabouts and rescue her from this nightmare.

At once, Magnolia froze. It slinked across the water with the easy predatorial gait of a cat. The monster had the height of a grizzly bear with about double the length, hindlegs bent in the way frogs would that indicated it could pounce for its prey at any moment. Its fur was a sleek black, water dripping on the underside so it looked like rippling curtains swaying back and forth as it moved.

The look in its membranous goat eyes told her it knew this and it would continue to play with its meal. The creature opened its mouth and a thin trail of blue smoke billowed from the sides, obfuscating the detail on its jagged teeth.

When the smoke cleared, Magnolia yelped. The creature was moving at a slower pace towards its prey but the two eyes on the side of its face had locked their sights onto her.

There was nothing behind her to attract its attention. It advanced further until the horizon blocked the view of the behemoth and at no point during its move did it feel like Magnolia was dismissed by the monster.

Her hands were shaking. Her knees were numb from being crouched among the underbrush. A part of her nagged that she’d wasted time but her safety was paramount. Whether the monster had let her live or not was irrelevant; she’d taken the proper course of actions that maximized her chance of survival and would continue to do so.

Especially knowing that creatures like that prowled through the marshes.

Magnolia brushed the water and mud on her knees and slowly rose from her crouched position.

Small blessings that her quarry was not trailing the same direction as that monster.

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It had taken what felt like an hour or two of walking but her movement had finally carried her to the threshold of the spell she was looking to overtake. The domain it had around the marshlands was strange.

Where she had expected an opaque black mass marking the borders between the outside and in there or something similar to it, she’d found a veil of frilly white drapes that overlapped with itself in a seemingly endless length of cloth.

Despite the fabric sitting in the water, it repelled all sources of muck to maintain the pristine white shine of the cloth.

“I’m a Winthrop. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.” Magnolia whispered under her breath.

She reached out with her hand and walked forward, pushing at the layers upon layers of drapes until she’d transitioned into the spells domain.

What came first was the gentle sensation of sunlight spreading across her bare skin. The earthy scent of silt and marsh water was subsumed with the pleasant aromatic scent of lilies and wildflowers that draped the rolling green countryside. The domain had made her presentable, replacing the clothes and equipment she’d brought with her on this examination for a cornflower blue southern belle petticoat with ruffles at the chest line.

It was like wearing two skins, her form of presentation taking precedent over the materials she could still feel in some capacity.

Magnolia shifted her attention to her quarry, who calmly sat in the distance in a white floral dress of her own. The creature was known as the Belle of the Ball within her notes, a slender creature with thin white fur that tapered off at her delicate fingertips and an angular black face veiled by a floral hat, small black horns poking out from the top.

Despite the veil and the distance, its orange eyes shone like miniature suns, their gaze constant and judgmental over Magnolia’s every move. She refused to be intimidated, taking measured steps towards the long table laid out with teas and small flaky pastries.

The set dressing for this party was immaculate and the formal wear her other guests had on matched the pristine quality, despite some of them having since passed on with only their slack jawed skulls remaining. Those unfortunate few still alive were emaciated rotting things who stared off into the distance with a vacant, dopey smile.

“Please,” the creature hissed softly, “Take a seat at the end of the table. I insist.”

The first move.

Magnolia curtseyed before moving towards the chair at the end of the long table. She grabbed the firm wood on both sides of the chair and lifted her seat up, shifting the seat of one of the desiccated guests to make space next to the Belle.

The rote memorization and adrenaline running through her veins would not let her forget the razors edge she stood on when dealing with a creature of this style of domain.

There was decorum to follow, a set of rules to proceed in their games that would see to the creatures binding if she was precise with her interactions. She’d chosen this spell, aside from the prestige of binding something her peers and professor considered above her station, precisely because this process would not devolve into a game of violence.

Indeed, one of the universal rules she was certain of was the clause on hostility, whether perceived or actualized, leading to a sudden exit for the Incant, with no hope of re-entry.

Magnolia did not give up her turn taking a seat next to the Belle with the presence of silence.

“What is your name?” Magnolia asked.

“My name is Mistress of the Mayflowers, precious guest.” The Belle replied in a silky falsetto. Their back and forth had started and just as Magnolia had expected, the Belle offered her a fake name.

“Tell me about your family, dear guest. I must know of your kindred and their dreams.” The Belle stated.

Magnolia chewed on her thoughts before answering, “I am Magnolia Winthrop and I’m attending the Scarlet Society of Sorceresses as a fledgling with the desire to make the world a better place.”

She’d answered the question honestly and with detail while sidestepping her family, instead maintaining the focus on herself.

The Belle gave Magnolia a toothy smile and waited for Magnolia to pass the conversation back towards her.

She’d been tee’d up for the first jab.

“I’d love to know what your rules for decorum are. What are the rules that manage this domain?” Magnolia asked.

She refrained from showing excitement, gripping her knees tightly to keep them from bouncing. There were certain rules of engagement that were universal amongst the various iterations of the Suggestion spell and her quarry was no different. They would value honesty of the sideways variety, an approach of speaking out of the side of ones mouth to answer questions pertaining to the conversation but not directly addressing the topic.

Any direct acknowledgement of the topic was grounds for subservience, the infringing party becoming a servant to the superior party. Half acknowledgements of questions asked or performing actions to the spirit of the behavior and not the letter fell within the purview of Magnolia’s allotted options for engaging in conversation.

She’d answered the question honestly, which meant her partner would-

“I will attempt to bind you as a permanent guest of this quaint gathering while you attempt to do the same to me. Our conversations will go back and forth until one of us forgets to mind our manners.” The Belle answered.

Her answer was better than Magnolia had hoped, the acknowledgment of the binding on the spells behalf the first condition of three she needed to meet before securing victory.

The Belle twirled her silver spoon in her fine ceramic teacup, “Dear guest, please pass the sugar bowl.”

Magnolia scanned the table for the bowl of sugar. She pulled open the lid and filled a spare cup with the white crystals before passing that cup along to the spell.

“Do you mind giving me something of yourself? I find this place and you to be so inviting that I simply must have something of yours to commemorate the occasion.” Magnolia asked, acting the part of an ingratiating guest for her humble and immaculate host.

The Belle of the Ball did not respond, instead snapping her clawed fingers with a surprisingly loud crack.

Magnolia turned her gaze to the emaciated guest opposite her and watched as the light returned to the man’s eyes.

She didn’t panic, merely gesturing at the increasingly panicked man with a shushing sign before turning her attention back to the host. Hopefully he had the presence of mind to heed her warning, or at the very least the absence of mind to still be subsumed in his stupor and not fuck up her chances of victory.

“It is done, my dear guest. I am curious, what of yourself? You simply must let me know something about yourself.”

“Why, I’m-” She held back her tongue and quickly recollected all of the information she’d divulged thus far, attempting to keep the story straight “I am an Incant of little repute with the expressed interest of binding you into my body.”

Another half-truth and an important one at that. The second condition had been met and she would not allow for the back and forth to spread out and have the foundation fall out from under her.

Magnolia pressed her fingers on the side of the dress and uncomfortably dug into the falsified flesh for her bag. After a moment of rummaging through her numerous pouches, she pulled out a simple ring of sterling silver.

“May I give you this as a token of my appreciation for your benevolent invitation?” Magnolia asked.

The creature carefully inspected the silver ring and raised an eyebrow, “Why of course I will accept your token of appreciation.” The Belle of the Ball had her claw encroach up to Magnolia’s elbow, her other claw fiddling to acquire the only other token she had in her possession.

The third condition for binding was met the moment the Belle took the friendship charm off her Grimoire.

This was it!

Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears and chest, skin growing clammy with anticipation for the next move.

“Thank you.” The creature whispered as it inspected the charm with relish.

“You’re welcome.” Magnolia replied reflexively.

Oh no.

The Belle of the Ball’s smile widened into a predatorial rictus, sharpened fangs bared to reveal its beastial nature.

“So close, my dear guest. So very close.” The Belle giggled, voice shifting between the falsetto Magnolia was familiar with and a growling howl.

She couldn’t move out of her seat, the flowers laying underneath her growing roots on her ankles. An immovable weight kept her from lifting her arms, kept her from gesturing at violence and escaping with at least her life.

The encroaching binding didn’t even give her the dignity to cry out and beg.

“Oh do not worry my dear thing. I plan to take extra special care of you.” The creature ran its sharp claw across Magnolia’s cheek. She could feel her face rip open with a minor cut, blood running down the Belle's finger.

“On my name as the Belle of the Ball, I bind this Incant under my domain. May they serve me for the rest of their existence.” The creature brought down the guillotine onto Magnolia’s head.

Magnolia’s wrist flared up in a wreath of green flames, heat uncomfortably searing her flesh with no possible recourse. She shifted her eyes to see the bracelet that Willow had given her was aflame. The roots binding her ankles withered and the immovable weight on her chest lifted to give Magnolia unhindered freedom.

The Belle was bewildered as it stared at the green flame and then perturbed as its essence began dissipating into the friendship charm Magnolia had crafted.

“What is this!” The Belle cried out, the cloudless sky of the domain rapidly becoming turbulent with dark storms and lightning. “You shouldn’t be able to do this! You’d dare break the rules of decorum!”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” Magnolia replied, equally incredulous with the circumstances of the situation.

The creature forcefully grabbed her arm and pointed to the wreath of green flame surrounding Magnolia’s wrist, “You would infringe on the spirit of our game by bringing this item into my domain? By wit or by trick, you would bind me with no recourse.”

The Belle of the Ball let go of the girl's wrist and turned its attention to the open space around her, “Clearly, you must understand that this was a farce to begin with! She came into this interaction with the expressed intention of undermining our game.”

Magnolia watched as the Belle argued her case to the cosmos beyond.

And the world responded with resounding silence.

The creature fell to its knees.

“Of course,” it whispered, “You couldn’t infringe on the spirit of the game. You had no knowledge of what you came into this game to begin with.” The creature turned its attention back to Magnolia, “Pitiful little thing.”

The Belle of the Ball disappeared into the charm.

Magnolia sat uncomfortably in the crumbling domain, the emaciated guests who yet lived growing conscious and fervent with panic and haste.

In the pit of her stomach she felt the weight of the world sink. That infinitely huge feeling she would succumb to when she slept in the embrace of the endless black expanse.

She felt the slot in her body stir for the first time.