Chapter 29: Just A Breath to Cause A Scream

Hello, lovelies! Welcome to 2024! Just a reminder that the entirety of ADSR, and the first season of MGES, are available for purchase from Itch! These ebook volumes are fully edited and revised for spelling, grammar, internal consistency, and just a little bit of flavor!

https://helena-heissner.itch.io/a-dream-of-summer-rain

https://helena-heissner.itch.io/magical-girl-exorcist-squad

And now back to your regularly scheduled angst and trauma! Enjoy!

***

50 Years Ago

As they drove south into Alberta, mountains overtook the horizon. They passed town after town, and each of them were full of people starving in the streets, people shivering in the cold, people lashing out in violence. The snow covered everything, everyone, in a white blanket that hid the blood that stained it all. They drove down the ice-road, getting closer and closer to this ‘civilization’ Alistair had heard so much about. The land rose and fell beneath the wheels of their car while Aunt Elleanor drove. She’d arrived a week prior, having heard what happened, announcing she was here to bring Alistair to her school in the lower forty-eight.

He’d been so grateful to see another human being it wouldn’t have mattered who it was. But it was Aunt Elleanor, who was always writing him letters asking him how he was, who always brought him books and took him ice fishing when she visited, who rescued him, and that made it exponentially better.

“How are you doing?” she asked as they drove through their sixth or so dying mountain town. People sipping from bottles in brown bags held in frostbitten hands lined a main street of houses with boarded up windows and crumbling walls.

“These people,” Alistair said. “Is there nothing that can be done for them?”

“The governments of the world have decided they’re not worth helping,” Elleanor said.

“Why do we let them be in charge when they won’t help their own people?”

“Because there are more of them than there are of us.”

“And why is that?”

“Because magic is dying,” Elleanor said. “Fewer and fewer mages are born to each generation. So it shall be, until the Great Prophecy comes to pass, and the Chosen One defeats the Dark Lord and magic is allowed to flow from the Pale once more.”

“And when will that happen?”

“We’re not sure,” Elleanor admitted sadly. “I suppose it doesn’t help that we’ve lost track of the Chosen One.”

The world grew dimmer as that sank in. “How did that happen, precisely?”
Aunt Elleanor gave a grim, almost fatalistic laugh. “We’re not sure of that, either. We got a tip as to his whereabouts, but by the time the Kishimotos got there he was long gone. I heard they killed his family out of spite.”

“Seems a bit tasteless,” Alistair said.

“Probably,” Elleanor said. “But that’s the way of magic- you either work with it or against it. From what we can tell, the Chosen One worked against it, so he had to be punished. Who knows what will happen now.”

Would his children be born without magic? His children’s children? How could he, how could they, honor the memory of their great House without magic? How could the world be fixed without it? That which lacked magic was broken, impoverished, pained. Weak. They needed someone strong to save them, to protect them, from themselves and from the rest of the world.

As the derelict town faded from the rearview mirror, Alistair told himself that something needed to be done.

They drove through the mountains several hours more until they came upon a town with its own inn. Night had fallen, and Elleanor’s exhaustion was evident from her constant yawning. The town was isolated at a mountain’s peak, built in a ring around its center. It was small, only a few miles all across- more a village than a town. The night was dark, and everyone must’ve been sleeping in their houses- which, given how many houses there were, meant there couldn’t be that many people. Alistair found it odd that a town this small and out of the way had an inn at all, but he was so exhausted he didn’t question it. And unlike many of the towns he’d come across, the houses didn’t have boarded up windows, and there wasn’t anyone laying in the cold street.

They booked a room with two queen sized beds, and fell asleep quickly. The room was Spartan, lacking the refinement and grandiosity the Castle had accustomed him to. But he supposed it would do for now. Not everything could be a castle, just as not everyone could be strong.

Alistair woke up some time later, his chest aching, his Star desperate for release. He knew he shouldn’t, but the fire in his chest wouldn’t diminish otherwise. He hadn’t used magic at all in the past week- the longest he’d ever gone sans. It was an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, a dimness in his vision he desperately wished to be rid of. So he tapped his chest, and the crimson Star emerged and circled him. Elleanor didn’t stir from her bed, and Alistair simply watched the Star dance, mesmerized. Warmth and bliss ran through his veins, and all was well.

Twenty minutes went by of Alistair simply watching his Star. Twenty minutes, after which a shifting sound reached through the closed door to their room. Then a clicking of the tumblers on a lock adjusting.

Someone was coming in.

Alistair only had time to say, “Aunt Elleanor,” before the door burst open and three ghouls charged at them.

Elleanor awoke, and did not hesitate to grab the shotgun from under her bed and blow one of the ghoul’s brains out. Then another. Then the third.

“Move,” Elleanor said.

And he did, and together they ran, jumping out the window and running from the front of the hotel. But when they got outside, they saw the entire town had gathered before them, all bearing fangs and claws, all baying for blood. They surrounded the inn on all sides, forming a circular mob in the town square through which Alistair and Elleanor couldn’t possibly escape.

There were hundreds of them, thousands- where had they all come from? There was no way this tiny village could support such a large population.

This couldn’t be the end. It wouldn’t be the end. And yet, trapped in a village atop a mountain, surrounded by a swarm of ghouls, nobody else around for dozens of miles, and only one gun between the two of them… The odds weren’t good.

Alistair breathed it in. He had a Star, at least. That would buy him a few minutes in a fight. He hoped.

And then the Star did something curious: it shot forward, past the crowd, into the small one-story cabin at the town’s exact geographic center. It swam through the wooden door, and Alistair knew a familiar sense of fear and abandonment. The crowd of ghouls began to close in on them, and Alistair found himself hyperventilating.

The ghouls stopped, the closest mere inches from Alistair and Elleanor. Elleanor did not lower her shotgun, did not stop loading new rounds into it.

“WAIT! WAIT A MINUTE!” a low, masculine voice called. The source emerged from the cabin into which Alistair’s Star had gone. He had red eyes and dark hair and dark brown skin, and he wore a simple blue and white robe. Around him danced a violet Destiny Star, and Alistair’s own red Star swayed about near him.

All the ghouls turned toward the man and bowed. All but one, the one nearest Elleanor, who lunged for her.

The man raised a hand, and a bolt of purple light shot forth and struck the offending ghoul in the back of the head. The purple flame erupted into a massive pyre, and the ghoul screamed as it turned to ash before Alistair’s eyes. Brimstone wafted through the cold night air, floating up to the sky. Alistair couldn’t move, could barely process what he was seeing. What kind of magic was this? That ghoul in the Arctic had used it as well- it seemed unique to their kind, but there was no way they could all do that.

“A little Entropy always does the trick,” the man said with a self-satisfied smirk, “Now everyone, that’s quite enough. We won’t be eating these two just yet. Leave us. ”
And that was enough for them. They all simply left, went back inside their homes, leaving the remains of their fallen brethren behind them to be swept away in the wintry wind. Only a young woman, somewhere in her early twenties, stayed and watched. She looked like this other man, perhaps a blood relative.

“My name is Saul Emory,” the man said, drinking in the red and purple Starlight. “To which of you does this Star belong?”

When Alistair saw his aunt was about to speak for him, he stepped forward and said, “Mine. My name is Alistair Albrecht, High Prince of House Albrecht, leader of all necromancers. And that is my Star.”

As if to validate him, his Red shot back over and hung above Alistair’s head.

Saul threw his head back and laughed. “Well isn’t that just perfect. I’ve been wondering when you’d show up. But I don’t think the time is right just yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Alistair said.

“You’re meant to kill me, boy,” Saul said. “That’s what your Destiny is. To slay the King of the Ghouls.”

Alistair shook as the full implications registered. If this was the King, and he was meant to kill him… This man, this king, this creature must’ve had a hand in his family’s death. Swelling with righteous fury, Alistair charged forward, but Elleanor grabbed the back of his coat and locked him in place. He tried to wriggle free, to no avail. “Alistair. No. You won’t survive.”

His rage tripled. Did she just call him weak?! No, no he wasn’t weak! How dare she!?

The King spoke: “I’d LISTEN to your aunt, boy. While I’d like for us to fight one day, it wouldn’t be much of a fight. It would simply be killing a child- which I’m far from morally opposed to, but after you’ve done it enough times it rather loses the thrill. What DOESN’T lose the thrill, however, is a PROPER fight. Come back when you’re older, and we’ll see if Destiny is what it’s cracked up to be. Now. I’ll give you five minutes to get to your car and get out of here. After that… Well, there are limits on how long I can keep my subjects at bay, so I’d get moving.”

“No,” Alistair said. “You killed my family! You die here, monster!”

He began charging up a spell, not noticing Elleanor bringing the butt of her rifle down onto his head until it was already making contact and robbing him of consciousness.

When he woke up, he was back in his aunt’s car, and it was daytime. Around him was more green than he’d ever seen in his life: green tree leaves, green grass, green bushes. He shook in the passenger’s seat, the sunlight harsh on his pale skin. “What- what happened?! What’s going on?” he said.

“I stopped you from doing something incredibly stupid,” Elleanor said, parking the car.

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

“Given that I’m your guardian, and that you would’ve died, it was. You’re welcome. Now. We’re here.”

Alistair gritted his teeth, and reluctantly looked outside. They stood atop a hill, overlooking a valley, in which laid the school of necromancy. “You won’t be able to stop me next time,” he said.

“I know,” Elleanor said with a sad smile. “All I can do is make sure you’re ready when that day comes.”

He sighed. “How much do we even know about ghouls? About this Entropy magic they can use?”

“Quite a bit. You’re in the perfect place to learn about all that.”
Very well then. He would learn. And he would be ready. For more than just his own Destiny, too- saving the world from ghouls would be pointless if magic died. He would avenge his family, and he would save magic, and he would fix everything. No matter the cost. He wasn’t strong enough yet, but he would be. He would make sure of it.

***

The wind snaked between trunks and branches and leaves as rain blasted it all from above. The patter of the precipitation, the shape of its noise as it met the town outside, was too familiar for Lacy not to recognize: she was home. Dresden, Michigan. She hadn’t been back in three years. She’d tried her hardest to never return. And yet here she was. Many things had, at least in their general appearance, stayed the same.

Other things, however…

Footsteps without accompanying heartbeats stalked through the town, marching like soldiers gone berserk across the wet dirt and pavement. Each home contained massive clusters of pulses and breathing, often four or five or six per house, but each day they grew quieter. Sometimes an entire house went quiet. Sometimes soldiers were added to the disorganized, wildly marching ranks that patrolled the town. The rain was the drumbeat to which they marked, but they had to eat quickly so that the raw meat didn’t spoil in the cold, damp weather.

Lacy sat on the floor of her cage. There was a cot behind her, a toilet and a sink to her left, a glass wall in front of her, and a red-glowing rune on the ceiling above. Her legs were folded together, and she sat up straight on the brick floor.

Every day, twice a day, Mrs. Woodrow brought her food and water, and then spent the next thirty minutes observing her. Just sitting there, in a wooden rocking chair she kept outside the cell. Refusing to say anything at all, no matter how Lacy tried to engage or provoke her.

The rest of the day, Lacy spent alone. Drew wasn’t there to talk to her any more- apparently Danny could see him now. How the hell did that work? Was Drew real? He must’ve been, but that didn’t account for what he was. The most logical explanation was that he was Drew’s ghost, but that still… Just didn’t feel right.

The food was always bland. Lacy’s ribs were starting to stick out of her skin again. She’d just gotten used to having body mass, too. The sheets were scratchy on her skin, and she’d been wearing the same top and skirt since waking. She wanted a shower. She wanted to stretch her legs, to… To see the sun again. She missed being outside. Never thought she’d feel that way, but here I am so I guess that’s that. I’ve changed. I wanted to change. And now I’m back where I started against my will this is just great just fucking great fucking great great great.

The rain fell, and Lacy tilted her head back and listened to it, reorienting herself to her hometown. Everything was still where it had been before, more or less. She might not know the game very well, but she knew the board and where the pieces were better than any of her opponents. She shook her head to stay focused- she couldn’t afford to space out right now. She needed to figure out what she’d do next.

The door opened. Mrs. Woodrow walked through. She put a tray of applesauce through the food latch, and sat down in her chair to watch Lacy eat. She wouldn’t leave until Lacy finished. She never did. Lacy finished her meal- the texture was horrendously slimy, so she tried to force it down to sate her hunger. She wiped her mouth, then she looked up at her jailor.

And then, to her astonishment and horror and confusion, Mrs. Woodrow spoke: “What is it that you want, Lacy?”

Lacy kept silent: it was her turn not to speak.

“Well?” Mrs. Woodrow asked.

Lacy blinked.

“It’s rude not to answer when someone asks you a question, Lacy.”

“Could say the same thing to you, bitch,” Lacy half-said half-muttered, then flinched as she realized she’d said that out loud. Dammit.

“So tell me, dear, what do you want?” Mrs. Woodrow asked. She wore a plaid tweed suit with a knee-length skirt, suspenders, a white blouse, and white high heels. Diamond studs filled her ears lobes, with a matching necklace around her throat. Her long brown hair hung flat-ironed down her back. Lacy could see a bit of resemblance to Gwen- the height and build, the small nose, the big eyes. More than that, though, was the way Mrs. Woodrow sat, the way her posture felt both practiced and relaxed as she crossed her legs and leaned forward and rested her chin on her clasped hands. Lacy had seen Gwen do it more than once, mostly when she’d first started training her.

Lacy looked down at the floor.

“Lacy. What do you want?”

“I want to talk to Danny,” Lacy said.

Mrs. Woodrow cocked her head to the side. “Very well! I’ll see what I can do.”

Lacy furrowed her brow. “Just like that?”

“All you had to do was ask,” Mrs. Woodrow said.

Lacy shook her head, then thought of a move. “And what is it that you want?”

Mrs. Woodrow drummed her fingers on her lap. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You in this for the same reason as your husband?”

Mrs. Woodrow parted her red lips and bared her big white teeth. “Do you even know the true reason he’s doing all this?”

“To take over the world.”

“Yes! But do you know why?”

“It doesn’t matter- there’s not a good reason to do something like that.”

Mrs. Woodrow sighed, and looked at Lacy with the same expression people always wore when Lacy asked questions they felt had obvious answers. “I’ll leave my husband to explain himself- he’d like to talk to you as well. As for myself, I believe in his cause, but more so than anything else, I believe in the Sovereignty. We have hidden in the shadows for far too long, looking at the world from afar when we could seize it for ourselves. It belongs to us.”

Disgust curdled in Lacy’s stomach. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

“Whatever do you mean, dear girl?”

“The world doesn’t fucking belong to you!”

“And to whom does it belong then? You?”

“Of course not! It doesn’t belong to any of us!”

“Then whom? God? If God opposed this action, He wouldn’t have given us magic in the first place! If anything He must surely be wondering why we’ve waited so long to pursue this course.”

“You claim to know how God thinks?” Lacy balked, fists balling.

“No. Just making an educated guess. No more and no less than you can offer. While Danny tells me you’ve studied the Good Book a fair deal, I’m afraid you have rather less experience than I in the ways of humankind.”

“You talk like a fucking crazy person, you know that?”

“Language, dear! Such profanity is unbecoming of a young lady. You’ve already so many disadvantages on that front, you ought to curb the ones you can control.”

Shame and self-disgust surged through Lacy’s chest and throat, and when she tried to open her mouth the threat of her too-low voice gave her pause.

Mrs. Woodrow stood up from her seat. “I’ll look into letting Danny see you. He’s tied up at the moment, but I think he can be let out for a small while in a day or two. Until then, you just… Wait here.”

She laughed at her own joke as she left.

Lacy buried her face in her hands.

The hours went by with little else to do but listen to the rain and think. Think about what she was going to do. Outside, people were dying, people were in fear and pain. This was her hometown, she had to do something.

At the very least, she had to get out, and she had to stop the Albrechts. She stared at the rune overhead. It was blocking her magic, blocking her Star from leaving her body. She’d tried to blow up the cell immediately upon waking, and found she couldn’t conjure even the simplest spell. All she had at her disposal was her ears; all she could do was listen. Listen to her home dying at the hands of these monsters. She would put a stop to this; she would kill Alistair, and its wife, and its…

Its son. That was what stopping all this meant. Its son, her best friend, whom it had pitted against her. She’d known it since Peoria- that was what she’d been hoping to accomplish. Danny had to die. But not without knowing the full consequences of what he’d done.

She started pacing the narrow width of her cell, desperate to move even a tiny little bit. Then, as the rain grew harsher and day faded to night, the door opened, and the King of the Ghouls entered the room.

It was the first time Lacy had gotten a good, close look at it without the hazy filter of horror and adrenaline. It was about as tall as its wife was in high heels, probably just shy of six feet. It had a lean, slender frame, and it looked fully human in spite of its lack of a heartbeat and its crimson red eyes. And if there were that many more ghouls hiding in town besides it…  They had to be getting food from somewhere.

Lacy’s stomach lurched, and her posture straightened. She stood before the glass and glared at Alistair Albrecht. It wore a black button-down under a long black cloak with a silver raven on the lapel. Its long white hair was tied back in a ponytail, and it breathed in through its nose and out through his mouth.

“Do you even need to breathe?” Lacy asked.

Alistair’s head tilted quizzically.

“You don’t have a heartbeat,” Lacy clarified. “Is the breathing just for show?”

“It’s muscle memory,” Alistair replied. “I do without even having to think about it.”

God, and I thought my voice was low, Lacy thought. “I see.”

“You know who I am.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“And what do you think of me?” Alistair said.

“I think you’re a monster,” Lacy said. “I think you’re evil. I think you’re going to hell.”
“I appreciate your candor,” Alistair nodded. It sounded… Sincere? No, no it couldn’t be. This had to be some kind of ploy. “What else do you think of me?”

Lacy stepped further toward the glass. “I think you ruined your children’s lives. Gwen and Danny are the only ones left, and look how they turned out.”

“Yes. They’re both so weak,” it spat.

“Not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” Alistair asked.

“That you hurt them. That they’re broken now, because of you and your insanity.”

“Insane? You think me insane?”

“You want world domination. That’s definitionally insane,” Lacy said with a manic smile.

Alistair let his hair down and ran a hand through it. “Do you know why I’m doing this?”

“I do,” Lacy said, mirroring his gesture. “And I don’t think it matters.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s a bad thing to do, no matter what the reason.”

“Ah, yes. Just like murder. Just like what you did to my daughter Elaine.”

Lacy flinched. “That’s different.”

“How so? You just said some things are wrong no matter what.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I didn’t mean to break my children, as you so put it. But I suppose in some ways I did, and as you’ve said that makes me a bad person regardless of how or why I did it, regardless of whether or not I meant to. So by that same token, you’re a murderer, and thou shalt not murder.”

“You’re a hell of a person to be preaching that, you bastard,” Lacy’s eyes bulged, and her fingernails pricked the flesh of her palms.

“And you’re a hell of a person to be judging anyone,” Alistair said. “You spend your whole life hiding away, afraid to make any choices, and you judge those who lack your cowardice. Never having to make a choice means you’ll never have to make any mistakes- that’s evidently your rationale. It’s really quite pitiful.”

Guilt and shame pricked Lacy like needles in a pincushion. That wasn’t true- that wasn’t why she… Wasn’t why she…. “Fine then. Let’s say intent does matter in the eyes of God. What the hell are you doing all this for? I wanna hear you say it.”

Alistair smiled. “To save the world, of course. To save magic.”

Lacy scowled. “Here we fuckin’ go.”

“What do you know about magic? Of its nature? Where it comes from?”

“Nothing. And I’ve got this feeling you’re about to start lecturing me, so I’d say I’m fine in not knowing.”

“So proud of your ignorance.”

Lacy’s hands shook and her breathing grew haggard. “Are you gonna monologue at me or not? Because if not, I’d like to get some sleep.”

Alistair’s blank expression rippled into rage, and it grabbed the chair in front of it and smashed it against the floor. Lacy jumped backwards, leaning against the wall once more.

“Do I have your attention now?” Alistair said, cackling, walking closer to the glass wall and putting its massive palm flat against it. “Or do you wish to keep offering your banal commentary?”

Lacy didn’t blink. She couldn’t afford to let this bastard think it had anything on her, that she was afraid of it. Couldn’t indicate to it just how much she was shaking inside. She could only hope it wasn’t obvious from her face and voice.

“Magic comes from the Pale,” Alistair said. Lacy’s eyes locked onto Alistair at the mention of the place. How did it know about the Pale? “It is the world between worlds, the way-station between our land and the Elvenlands, into the Cosmic West. But the gap between our world and the Pale grows wider with each passing year, and as a result-”

“Fewer and fewer mages are born to each generation,” Lacy recalled.

“Yes,” Alistair said, face softening. “Very good- Guinevere taught you well. Now, while we lose our magic bit by bit, the Elvenlands stay the same. They grow no further; they remain unaffected by Entropy. And one day, our magic will die, and their’s shall remain, and they will come for us. And they will kill us all.”

“So your solution is to steal the thing that could let the elves in before then?” Lacy said, flattening her tone to hide the fear. “You’re a genius, Al.”

Its eyes peeled wide, and its smile revealed all of its very sharp teeth. “You don’t even remotely realize that Star’s full potential. It has the ability to end worlds. It could end their’s while preserving ours and giving us more magic than ever before. In the right hands.”

“And those ‘right hands’ are yours, I’m guessing?”

“They don’t have to be.”

“Meaning?”

“Work with me,” Alistair said. “We can save the world.”

“Join you?” Lacy said. “Become a ghoul?”

“What? No. Dear girl, why would I ask you to become a monster when you do not have to. Look at me- I am a monster, as you have said. But you are already perfectly human and elf both. You must not taint yourself- you can remain pure.”

Pure? “Pretty sure that ship has sailed,” Lacy said, sitting down on her cot. This was getting to be a lot to take in.

“As you yourself have said, intention matters. You can save the world and your own soul at the same time.”

“I don’t think that's possible,” Lacy said, a hollow in her voice filling with unwept tears.

“How are you so young and yet already so fatalistic?” It said, putting a hand to its mouth as if in concern, as if something like it could feel even a shred of compassion.

“Why do you want to save magic so badly?” Lacy said, leaning against the wall and tilting her head to the side.

“To protect us from the elves.”

A spark ignited a tinder of outrage in her mind, evaporating the confusion and sorrow. “Bullshit,” Lacy said, hopping off the bed, stepping closer to the glass.

“Excuse me?”

Lacy gritted her teeth, letting the rage pour through her. This thing couldn’t be serious, and if it was, if it sincerely believed it was doing the right thing through all this… No. She wouldn’t stand for that. Fuck that. Fuck people like that- all they ever did was make everything worse. And this guy wasn’t a person, he was a creature. An it. “Did I stutter? There’s no way you actually believe that that’s what you're doing. The elves aren’t being held back by us, they’re being held back by something else, something way bigger. They have to be, or we’d have all been fucked to death by now.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not doing this because you think it’s right and just, you’re doing this to make yourself feel good,” Lacy said, putting her own palm flat on the glass. “Fucking admit it, and maybe I’ll consider helping you,” she lied.

Alistair rolled its eyes. And then it turned around, and said, “When your mind is clearer and your ego less bruised, perhaps we can further this conversation. For now, though, I’ll let you think about my offer. And perhaps reconsider your own nihilism. You can’t possibly believe in such an empty world, Lacy. If you do, the world will inevitably prove you wrong, and it will break you so much more ferociously than if you’d simply allowed yourself to accept it as it is. Not demand that it be the void of apathy you so desire. Such a place already exists, and it calls for us all. It is up to each of us individually to be strong enough to resist it. And the only way I know how is through the course of action I’m currently on. I shall pray for you, and perhaps you shall see the light.”

“Don’t fucking pray for me! You don’t have the right to ask God for anything- you’re not a person, you’re a thing!” Lacy screamed through the glass, her posture and monotone decaying rapidly.

Alistair said, without looking back, “Know that I feel sorry for you, truly. It has been some time since I found a creature as pathetic as you. But you will see reason eventually. They all do. They accept the responsibility the universe has bestowed upon as mages, to protect and elevate humankind. Before this is over, you will believe in the possibility of a better world.”

And with that, he went through the door and left, closing it gently behind him.

Lacy slumped to the floor, pressed her back against the glass, buried her face in her hands, and screamed. A flash of lighting outside caused her warped reflection to appear in the glass, and the image seared deep into her brain.

Day turned to night turned to day turned to night amidst the ceaseless rainstorm. Lacy peered through her fingers up at the runes on the ceiling. The rain hadn’t let up, so her excess power wasn’t being repressed so much as discharged into the surrounding area. It didn’t used to be like this- it didn’t used to be this dramatic when she kept her magic bottled up.

No going back. That was rule number one. No going back, no running away.

Alistair was completely sincere in his offer. That was what scared her about it so much- she hadn’t wanted to accept it, but he completely meant everything he said. He genuinely thought he would save the world by taking her Star, by conquering the planet with his army of ghouls and ushering in a new age of magic with himself at the top of the proverbial pyramid built with the bodies of everyone else. And he was just as sincere when he said he would pray for her.

Someone approached the attic, ascending the winding stairs. Danny had always said the attic was the most off-limits part of the whole house: he’d never been allowed up there as a kid. His mother had said his Uncle Lamont would come and skin him if he did. Lacy wondered whether or not that was literally true.

She stood up, folded her hands behind her back, and walked to the edge of the glass wall.

The door opened. Danny entered and let the door fall shut behind him with a gentle click.

“Wow,” Lacy said, “You look like shit.”

She meant it- any color he’d had in his skin had been stripped away, and his beard had grown back in greasy, uneven patches. The bags under his eyes were the size of pinballs, and the red light of the sigil shone off the slick layer of dried sweat on his skin.

Danny said nothing, just stared with half-opened eyes.

“Well?” Lacy said. “Do you want something?”

Danny breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting jeans and slumped his shoulders. “Why are you still holding out?”

Lacy laughed bitterly. “What?”

“You heard me. My dad’s made you a perfectly reasonable offer-”

“No, he has not. He’s made me a demonstrably insane offer. I categorically refused.”

“Lacy, come on-”

“‘Come on?’ Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’ll be easier if you go along with this. You won’t have to deal with anyone again. If you give up the Star, my parents will let you live out the rest of your life in the exact state of isolationist hermitage you’ve always wanted. So yeah, come on; we’re offering you your life’s dream.”

“It’s not my dream anymore,” Lacy said, cracking her knuckles one at a time. “It was, I’ll give you that. But things have changed. I’ve changed. My priorities have changed.”

“Oh really? And what are your priorities now?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Lacy said. Like Alistair had said, she was a murderer, plain and simple. She’d killed Elaine, and she’d killed all those ghouls. She’d killed at least two dozen of them at this point. The only consolation was that everyone she’d killed was a monster like her, a thing like her. If that’s what she was, if that’s what they were, then she may as well be the apex predator. And the first step towards that was backing her prey into a corner.

Danny’s head dropped, and he began to laugh.

“Something funny?” Lacy said.

“Not you, I promise. I believe you. I know you’re telling the truth,” Danny said. “I’m laughing at myself. I really should’ve seen this coming.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I dunno. Didn’t think it through. I was distracted.”

“Drunk. You mean you were drunk, you fucking bitch.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up.”

“Just a sloppy fucking drunk who can barely tell what’s going on around him-”

“Shut up!”

Lacy smirked as she said the words she knew would hurt most. “You’re just like my parents. I bet when they died, they were too sloshed to even tell what was going on. I bet they tasted beer-battered for your old man. And when he does the same to you, when you become more trouble than you’re worth, you’ll taste the same, you stupid bastard.”

“SHUT UP!”

Lacy slammed her palm against the glass. “I don’t think you get it, dumbass. You’ve signed your death certificate. But think of it this way- if I kill you, you won’t die from the withdrawal, and I’m given to understand that’s way worse.”

Danny gritted his teeth. Smoke and sparks shot from his hands. Lacy balled her fists. That’s it, you fucking moron. Melt the glass, let me out of here-

Danny shook his head, wiped the hair from his eyes. “Clever. You had me going there. You really did. But it’s not gonna work.”

“Seems to be working pretty well, dickhead.”

“It’s not gonna work! I can read you like a book, Lacy, I know what you’re planning- you’re trying to provoke me.”

“‘Trying.’ Yes.”

“Fuck you, Lacy,” Danny said, eyes wide as saucers, every syllable overpronounced and bellowed. “You’ve always thought you were better than me-”

“What?!” Lacy said, her hands shaking with rage.

Danny’s hands took the same position. “You. Think. You’re. Better. Than. Me. Hell, you think you’re better than everyone. Good little miss Catholic girl, always judging me and everyone else for wanting to live our lives-”

“Fuck you.”

“Thinking you’re fucking special, like the rules shouldn’t have to apply to you-”

“Fuck you!”

“And that’s why you get to just sit everything out, not have to deal with anyone or anything, not have to live up to any of your responsibilities while having the gall to judge me for wanting to live up to mine!”

“FUCK YOU!” Lacy screamed.

Danny screamed back, an incoherent shriek of ire. Behind him, smoke began to rise in curling plumes, and sparks once again shot from his hands.

Lacy screamed right back, plumbing the depths of her soul to search for the power kept at bay by the runes. And above them, the runes flickered, and for a moment a surge of energy saturated her being.

The door tore open, and Danny’s mother stomped through and grabbed her son by the elbow. They were both out of the room before Lacy could think of anything to say. She heard the collision of Mrs. Woodrow’s palm against Danny’s face, and she heard her say something about how he wasn’t ready yet.

The rune reasserted its wroth red reign.

Lacy kicked the glass and grunted before slumping onto the floor. She shook with fury and frustration, but as she stared up at the rune, she saw a sliver of hope.