#200fc

Brandon stepped out on the balcony, his loud breathing and clunky steps having no impact on the unnatural stiffness of the evening air. “Stella-”

“You should go to the Hall of the Universe, Brandon,” her voice was hard like a concrete wall smacking into him.

The yellow glow disappeared into her skin but it took her chest a concerning few additional seconds to kick into motion. Her eyes remained on the gardens surrounding the palace as if she was taking in the view one last time.

“Let me come with you. Your mom can handle-”

“No!” Stella sidestepped him, his fingers brushing nothing more than the chilly evening air. Her eyes only found him after his arm dropped by his side like a meteor in the ear-splitting silence. “She needs you more.”

“I can’t help with the stellar eclipse,” he clenched his fists, trying to tackle his voice and rein it in. He wouldn’t be yet another thing making her fidget and tremble. “I’m useful in battle.”

Shadows darker than the creeping dusk were swirling in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind. His grinding teeth and the furious shaking of his shoulders with every quaking breath could only throw Luna’s focus off. Stella needed this spell, clouding the stars, to work this one time when they wouldn’t be on her side. She was named after them and yet the enemy had effectively weaponized them against her. All she’d have to count on was the sunlight she’d absorbed to add to the shine of the Second Sun in her veins and her underdeveloped moon powers.

“I can’t take you, Brandon,” her voice was a stone skipping on the surface of a pond. The second it sank, he would drown in the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “This isn’t supposed to be a battle.”

No, they were going to cut her open like a sacrificial lamb and drain her blood so that they could infuse themselves with the light of the Second Sun. It would somehow complete their cult to the constellations and give them even more power. And they’d already successfully threatened to make the stars rain upon the whole solar system and decimate every planet in it.

Stella grabbed his hands and squeezed them until he lifted his head to look at her. “You have to look after my mom, Brandon. You have to help ground her. I need this spell to work and only the two of you can ensure that.”

“You can’t go alone!” Brandon choked on his tongue, on the love confessions tripping over each other only for him to swallow them back. They were all stained with so much pleading desperation for her to stay. He might as well tell them both he believed she would die out there.

“I have to,” Stella cried at him, frustration suffocating her voice but she only clutched at him harder. Her nails were digging bloody crescents into his flesh. “I’m the queen.”

Her head bowed under the weight of the sorrow and grief over her father’s passing. A crown she could never put down.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be queen!” Brandon spat out, his features twisting into a grimace. The impact resonated in his bones when the mangled distortion of his love sliced right through Stella’s fingers.

“What?” she bounced back as if scalded, arms wrapping around her middle in a hug he should have given.

Brandon ran a hand through his hair, a loud sigh whistling between his teeth.

“Time and time again,” he started slowly, eyes trained on the little lines her smiles and laughter had left in the corners of her mouth, “I’ve watched Sky evade death by sheer miracle. My presence was supposed to make a difference, to keep him safe. And if all those near-death situations are the difference, maybe no one should be royalty.”

Brandon licked his dried lips, his tongue scraping itself raw on the cracks in Stella’s brave front. All he wanted was to wrap her in his arms. He’d carry her on his shoulders for the rest of his life despite the heaviness already weighing on them from the memories of his failures and uselessness in the face of looming doom.

“Maybe no one should be subjected to constant threats to their life. Maybe you shouldn’t have to bet your safety on desperate measures. Maybe I wouldn’t have to worry so much that one day this ring on my finger,” his wedding band was nothing more than cold metal, hard to make out in the absence of the sun, “will mean nothing because death has taken you where I can’t follow.”

Stella raised her chin, her jaw clenched so hard that the tendons in her neck bulged out. Her eyes were blazing in the enveloping dusk. “The only thing that can rob this marriage of meaning is you not wanting me.”

Brandon stumbled back like she’d blasted him square in the chest. His lips parted but nothing came out through the heart that had jumped in his throat to evade a fatal blow.

Just a couple of steps bridged the gap between them. His palms cupped Stella’s face perfectly like they’d been made to do it. Lifting her head cost no effort unlike carrying the load on his own shoulders. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. She was facing a horrifying end to her life. He wouldn’t pile up on her frame the imaginary corpse of their marriage as well. She wasn’t losing him as long as it depended on him.

Stella’s mouth opened for him like she wasn’t afraid he’d infect her with his breathlessness or bite his pain into her lips. Her arms locked around his neck to pull him into her, their bodies fitting together. Every breath only brought them closer instead of throwing off the harmony of their love. The sun would burn out and die before he let anything come between them.

Breaking away was slow like the melting of snow and Brandon brought their foreheads together. No darkness could veil the warmth of her skin or that of her breath on his.

“Of course, I want you,” Brandon rasped, fingers weaving through her golden hair. The burn in his lungs from the lack of air only sealed there the feel of Stella and their life together. “I want you more than my own heart. I’d rather live without it than without you just because of fear.”

“I’d rather not live than live without you,” Stella’s whisper rippled through the night around them like she was manifesting her will.

Just another perk of returning magic to Earth. Most of the people she met were swiftly engulfed into their childhood wonder of magic as soon as they saw her powers. Later attempts at rationalizing it aside, the instantaneous joy they radiated was a compelling incentive to stand up to the Wizards of the Black Circle and return the dreams and reality they'd taken from the people of Earth. Stella could even multitask and spread the belief in fairies all over town while she was out shopping for cute outfits and matching accessories for her and the girls' next band performance.

The full weight of the heavy glass door fell exclusively on Stella's muscles. Her magic was carrying her bags to leave her free to hold Brandon's hand but he was nowhere to be found.

Stella snapped her fingers to put away the shopping bags in her pocket dimension. Her phone was in her hand as soon as she wasn't struggling with the unwieldy door anymore but there were no text messages or missed calls.

Stella's magic was already gathering in her fingertips in place of her phone. She didn't have to channel as much for a tracking spell as she would for teleportation but her energy was slipping through her fingers and sinking in the pit of her stomach.

It wasn't like Brandon to leave her behind. Whatever had pulled him away had been too urgent for him to even run back inside and tell her in person. He wouldn't have stepped aside even to take quick care of something without using the excuse to get a goodbye or good-luck kiss from her.

Stella herself shrieked and jumped at the blood-curdling wail that vibrated through her whole body. She whipped around, eyes scanning the alarmingly empty street. Her ears strained to catch every little rustle or whisper of footsteps.

Another high-pitched screech drew her gaze to a ramshackle house surrounded by fences and warning signs. The muscular form on the half collapsed roof was painfully familiar.

Stella's voice bubbled in her throat at the sight of Brandon inching towards a hissing and screaming cat caught in a crevice between the roof tiles.

Both dissolved in a flash of light to reappear on the sidewalk next to her.

The cat scurried off as soon as there was solid ground under its paws again. Teleporting had to have felt like falling to its death.

Brandon only blinked in confusion, his sturdy body meeting Stella's momentum without stumbling when she launched herself at him. His arms around her were warmer than the fading glow of her retreating magic around her body.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Stella grumbled with her face buried in his neck. Her fingers curled into his shirt as she breathed in his scent. Her heart had shot up in her throat to suffocate her and he hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Stella, I'm fine," Brandon stroked her hair, his rhythmic breathing lulling her and her own erratic heartbeat back into calmness. "I would have been fine anyway, I promise you that. I was only trying to help the cat, not hurt myself, and you as well.”

Stella snapped back, eyes locking with his. "It was dangerous! You don't even have your equipment."

"I like to think my skills stand regardless of that." The corner of his mouth turned up but that was as far as his humor reached. He wasn't making light of her worry.

"You should have come to tell me. I would've simply used my magic and spared you the trouble. Not to mention the life-threatening stunts."

Brandon cupped her cheek, thumb stroking over her skin. "I can handle myself. I've been in more dangerous situations and come out just fine."

"I know," Stella's voice was so small, her lower lip trembling. She grabbed at his wrist with both hands, holding on for dear life. "I know, Brandon. There's hardly a day when we're not facing some colossal threat. I treasure every moment that I don't have to spend worrying about your safety."

Brandon paused to look at her as if he'd just seen the sun for the first time. His free hand covered hers where she was still grasping at him. "I know you give the mission everything that you have. I didn't want to push you on one of the rare days off that you get."

"Nonsense," Stella kissed the inside of his palm before giving him her 24-carat smile. "Your kind heart could never inconvenience me. Now let's go see if we can find that cat and make sure it isn’t hurt.”

Her particle manipulation powers and her prowess with magic relating to all manner of heavenly bodies had raised more than concerns as soon as she’d altered the trajectory of the biggest meteor shower in the known universe.

The Dragon Scales rained harmlessly over the Magic Dimension, riding the ripples of space currents believed to be the Great Dragon shivering and shedding her skin. Over thousands of years no scholars, scribes and astronomers had succeeded in deciphering the pattern behind the phenomenon.

Griffin had not only predicted it successfully this once, but also influenced its course. To the point where the meteors had blazed through the atmosphere of several planets leaving behind a fiery trail in the sky, small craters and hard rock on the ground, and not a shred of mysticism.

Griffin’s appointment as the newest addition to the Cloud Tower faculty had stirred unrest all over the Magic Dimension, all of its leaders left to ask what would happen if she decided to repeat her magic show but this time take it further. Marion suspected that had been the whole point of it – to make all the monarchs aware of the force they’d be facing if they decided to go against witchkind. The effect had rippled further, of course, other dark magic users who shared Griffin’s views witnessing it as well.

Learning who’d reached out to her would be of great use to Marion in light of her mother’s refusal to consider anyone else’s power but their own, given to them as a birthright. Even in the face of a magical show that would’ve exhausted Marion’s own powers to the point of inducing magic depletion syndrome for the next few days.

Instead of examining the pattern of odd and worrisome magic thefts all over the dimension, the Queen of Domino had preferred to focus on Marion’s interest in Griffin and had set out to present it to anyone that noticed it as dutiful yet unfounded concern over state affairs, as overzealous protectiveness. She may as well have called it paranoia to Marion’s own face. In doing so she’d only left Marion one option – pursue it to the very end.

They’d descended deep into the castle – on the cusp of the caverns running under it and out to the nearby surroundings. If Griffin was headed out, Marion would have to go back to the auditorium where Headmistress Annora had welcomed the Domino delegation. Her mother would have already noticed how faint the presence of her Dragon Fire had grown but she couldn’t afford the risk of being seen somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.

Getting caught sneaking after a member of Cloud Tower’s faculty into the crypt of the castle would be just as disastrous for Domino’s image as being spotted out in the open on Magix. The crypt wasn’t restricted to witches only but any visitors not affiliated with the college required an official permission to enter. Especially someone with as much influence and diverging self-interests as herself.

The staircase leading into the crypt was swallowed by swarming, pitch-black darkness that appeared to be its own realm even compared to the murky hallways throughout the rest of the castle. She had to slow down and carefully feel for every next step unless she wanted to give herself away. Only her wings would be able to catch her in the opaque nothingness and the faintest pulse of light magic would rumble through the crypt stirring an avalanche of all the looming negative energy.

At least there was nowhere to lose Griffin now. This path only led to one place.

A heady current of magic billowed through the air like smoke tingling at her nose, her eyes, her fingertips. She startled and would have tripped if not for the power itself acting like a beacon. Almost tangible, it enveloped her, mapping out every inch of her body and the path of her steps down the stairs as if she’d walked them her whole life.

There was a nostalgic note claiming the air alongside something colder making her heart shudder and retreat further into her rib cage. She held her breath in anticipation of chilling fingers clawing their way through her chest to pluck it out, still beating and quivering, but the air remained stiff in the emptiness around her.

Somehow that was worse. She could feel the lingering stares on her form, magic hanging heavy in the air, just waiting for a sudden, gasping breath to flurry through the crypt and kick it into motion. Still, there was nothing but quiet stuffed with building tension that rose and rose with nowhere to go. It would’ve crushed her by now if allowed to bleed back into a dimension lost to all the souls draped over the stone walls and lingering overhead.

Knowing the phantom shadows couldn’t touch her did nothing to settle her stomach. In the back of her mind a familiar energetic voice prickled like a cold draft biting into her tender flesh.

Marion had to clench her teeth together to keep them from chattering. She couldn’t reach for the obliterating heat of her flames now that she’d caught a glimpse of the tall, slender figure she’d stalked throughout the castle.

She halted on the winding staircase, back pressed tightly to the freezing stone wall. Even Griffin’s golden eyes wouldn’t spot her there, amidst the cloying shadows clinging to the place like a mantle.

Griffin’s form was bathed in the firelight flickering from the cresset on the wall. The shadow she cast stretched all the way to the darkness cloaking Marion as if it would merge with it and slither up her legs to drag her into Griffin’s field of vision.

It was impossible to tell what she was doing, the table in front of her obscured immoderately by her lithe body. All Marion had to go off of was the acrid air redolent of burned thread. Not an outcome that could be achieved through ordinary fire, though.

A spell had been used to fray the very fabric of existence and the edges of Marion’s own thoughts. It almost camouflaged the warm breath tingling at the tiniest expanse of naked shoulder peeking between her dress and the thick curtain of her hair.

Marion’s head snapped to the offender, a rush of power gathering in her palm and prickling painfully to be ignited.

“Ready to add more offenses to the list?”

Griffin’s voice and the cool fingers circling her wrist made the magic fizzle out in her fingertips. It was her loud gasp that lured the fire from the cresset towards them.

She had to scramble to catch it with her free hand to avoid setting Griffin ablaze... Or herself.

The flames dancing in her palm illuminated the witch towering over her, blocking her escape back up the stairs. The light spilled into the suchlike sea of her irises to drown out any emotion from them. Only Griffin’s straightened shoulders spoke of haughtiness and the upturned corners of her mouth – of amusement.

Marion swallowed, her gaze just as gripped by Griffin as her wrist was. She didn't have to look over her shoulder to confirm that the figure she'd been watching had evaporated. The magical pressure in the air had lessened an iota. Though not even remotely enough to balance out the tension building between her and the real Griffin.

"You need permission to be here and you wouldn't be sneaking around if you had it."

There was an edge to Griffin's voice that was hard to pinpoint. She wasn't frustrated per se but the emotion in her words was just as unyielding as her fingers on Marion. It would run her through, hollow her out until there was nothing left in contrast to the vise-like grip keeping her in place.

"Cloud Tower doesn't take kindly to intruders, princess. I'd hate to be demoted further to the position of your babysitter."

There it was. The derision that had been held at bay by Headmistress Annora’s presence. Griffin would only censor herself for the woman’s sake. From what Marion had gathered in the couple short hours they’d known each other, Griffin refused to compromise with herself in any other way. She was just what Marion needed, no matter how counterintuitive it seemed.

"You don't have a choice," Marion fired out before her tongue could betray her and start shaking in lieu of her occupied fingers. "I'm already here."

Griffin's eyes narrowed, leaving behind a cutting coldness where her bright gaze had shone in the firelight. "Very well."

The air stirred around them, space itself thinning on the edges of the vortex of power conjured by Griffin. The ground opened underneath Marion's feet to swallow her heart. It almost tore from her chest when she jerked her hand from Griffin's grip. Her own magic was gathering in every little pore of her skin, threatening to turn them all into volcanoes spilling liquid fire. It would set space itself ablaze if she let the flames scatter and surge, stoked by the violent currents of Griffin’s spell.

"What are you doing?" she rasped, just barely teetering on the edge of the stairs once the whirl of magic died down.

Griffin didn't reach for her or her own magic in another teleportation attempt and Marion's lungs started to settle.

As if to undermine them, Griffin said, "Just doing my job – babysitting you. What are you doing? Why did you follow me?"

Abandoning all hope to do so inconspicuously, Marion swallowed. Griffin wasn’t impressed by her like everyone else that approached her with admiration and even awe, having heard the tales of the ancient and sacred power she wielded like a part of her. Marion would have to be the one to win her over.

“I’m perfectly convinced that you only agreed to this collaboration”–Griffin had done everything herself–“in the hopes of catching everyone’s attention.”

“And what caught your interest? My magic or I?” Griffin lowered herself to the step where Marion was standing.

The distance between them was now only perpetuated by their will. Marion didn’t even have to move. If she left herself to the pull of Griffin's body heat–palpable in the desolation of the crypt–and the push of urgency from the flames raging under her skin and in her palm, she’d stumble right into the crook of Griffin's neck. It seemed like the safest place in the crypt, Griffin’s own heartbeat hidden securely and not revealing anything from her pulse point.

“I wasn’t aware that they came separately so both, I suppose,” Marion held her ground.

Griffin smiled, the show of teeth just as sexual as it was menacing. “So you didn’t take your eyes off me in the meeting, ran away from your duties and followed me all the way here before you were even aware of my plans to cast a spell just so that we could find ourselves perfectly alone in the darkest, most remote part of the castle outside anyone’s knowledge where we are?”

It was hard to believe that Griffin had done her research on Marion, too. All public knowledge on Marion was not just readily available, but forced upon even the rare individuals that had no investment whatsoever in Domino’s royal affairs or even peripheral curiosity. She’d probably reached her conclusions after they’d met. Watching Marion like everyone else did but seeing considerably more if she’d figured out the correct buttons to push.

Her gaze skirting Marion’s mouth didn’t help the closing of her throat – like invisible fingers choking her. Alas, it wasn’t Oritel – just his striking absence, still so fresh even years later. He’d been the only one who’d seen through her facade. He’d helped her see through it as well and learn to tear it down when it’d been ingrained in her mind, made a part of her.

She needed to disappear into the image of Domino’s Crown Princess now – the only face she’d allowed herself to wear since she’d put Oritel to rest. Instead, her fingers only brushed against the bursting flames in her palm, licking fervently at reddening skin, her blood rushing to the surface of her body as if to spill along with her magic. The very fire in her core should have been snuffed out by now by the potency of the stale, stiff air only reaching her lips for years on end, yet the one in her palm still burned. Just like the thrill of Griffin's eyes on her bare skin scorched her cheeks and the sides of her neck.

“Everyone made sure I was aware of your reputation before this visit was even arranged. They all warned me to stay away from you and your... radical understanding of magic,” she decided on the truth.

Throwing Griffin off her game wouldn't be an advantage when she was just as shaken herself but at least it would level the playing field.

“And yet, here you are,” Griffin inched closer, leaving so little space between them that a full, deep breath from either of them would leave their chests brushing.

“Here I am,” Marion croaked.

Radical was necessary, good even. Griffin already agreed. Marion just had to convince her they were working towards the same goal – dissuading the tension inching closer to escalation every time an obscure but powerful magical artifact or spell disappeared and the finger was pointed towards dark magic users.

Her confession gave Griffin pause. The golden eyes rose back to Marion’s own and whatever she saw in there made her call off the attack.

She brushed past Marion, the whirl of air around her swiping the fire blossom out of Marion’s palm.

It was out before it could hit the cold floor, extinguished with the might of her heart seizing in her chest. She startled at the possibility of its wailing echoing through the crypt to be caught there forever like the rest of the ghosts haunting the place.

“You should listen to them, Princess,” Griffin concentrated her lack of respect in the title, letting none of it touch Marion where she was standing vulnerable in the flesh. “Who knows what I could do were you to give me a weakness to attack.”

Marion's steps echoed in the very core of the castle as she approached Griffin. The bait was outright offensive but she had to settle for only figuratively slapping it out of Griffin's hand. Otherwise, it would be the same as falling for it.

"We all witnessed what you can do, Griffin," Marion bit into the name, refusing the witch the satisfaction of startling at the taste of it.

She could swear she'd bitten through her own tongue. She had to have for the familiar metallic odor to choke her so viciously.

All her blood could spill and it would mean nothing. It had no value. She came from the bloodline with the greatest heritage and she had nothing to leave to Daphne, only grief. Oritel had died protecting her Dragon Fire, the thing she’d taken pride in every time she’d heard her title announced – Crown Princess of Domino. The thing that had led her to Griffin – by failing.

“Then you can imagine what could happen to a princess in my company. Even one with all of your gifts and abilities.” Griffin tilted her head, allowing the light to emphasize the seriousness in her eyes, “You’re not the beginning and end of all magic.”

Marion licked her lips but no words came out despite the coaxing heat from the fire still blooming in the cresset. She couldn’t disagree, especially after Griffin's thorough demonstration earlier. But she couldn’t agree either. Not even here where the only ones that would hear were Cloud Tower and Griffin. And herself.

She hadn’t had the will to leave the prison she’d called home before Oritel’s warmth had overwhelmed that of her inner flames. She hadn’t had the power to protect Oritel from the dark magic twisting his own until it’d frozen in his veins and killed him. She hadn’t had the heart to leave Daphne’s side and incinerate his murderer lest her daughter figured out that her presence didn’t amount to much more than her absence did. Her mother had seized the opportunity to take over Daphne’s schedule and life when Marion hadn’t had the presence of mind to care for her own child. She didn’t even have the voice to speak up and reassert herself as the only parent Daphne had left.

Marion raised her chin. “You won’t hurt me. Your job is to keep me safe.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she saw the error in them. It was the truth, and yet, a grave mistake that had been made eons ago. She was just doomed to repeat it or find herself stranded beyond the limits of the Dragon Fire.

“We do live in your world,” Griffin seemingly conceded but her hand closed around the lone golden chalice on the table and raised it against Marion like a loaded weapon. “We follow your rules.”

Griffin held her gaze, inserting herself into her chest with an even more frigid demand for her attention than the hole she’d been nursing there for years.

Marion swallowed, her breath coming out in short puffs through her nose. All she could focus on was not crumbling with each one and not letting her gaze drop to the challenge in Griffin’s hand like a shot bird.

The liquid inside the chalice was blue – the color of a flame burning too hot, ready to reduce her insides to cinders. The light coming from the cresset glimmered on the surface like a flickering sun blinding Marion. She couldn’t tell if her fingers would brush cold metal or colder magic but running away was not an option. She had to pass this test, had to come out on the other side despite feeling like a small speck of ash drowning into the sea of a potion held up against her.

“You gain nothing from this.”

Marion grabbed the chalice and chugged it down in a most undignified manner. The liquid glided down her throat more like a fabric than a drink. Loamy notes and a whiff of ink underlay the needling taste of ozone.

Griffin pried the chalice from her grasp and set it aside. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

She took Marion’s hands in her own and laced their fingers together. Hers were so cold on Marion’s feverish flesh. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she was touched by a ghost.

“Don’t lose me. I’d hate to have to explain how you were erased out of existence,” she was dead serious behind the teasing tone and Marion grabbed on for dear life.

Her palms were slick with sweat and her curls were sticking to her damp forehead, little hairs tickling her already strained sensibilities. Her face was burning – both with the magic soaking every fiber of her being and the fear of charring Griffin with her breath alone. It heated up as soon as it formed in her lungs as if she was preparing to breathe fire, yet it did nothing to free her from her clothes wrapped around her like a snake’s skin. Her chest strained fruitlessly against the invisible threads cocooning her to weave her into an incomprehensible tapestry.

The fire in the cresset burned too bright. She had to scrunch her eyes shut.

The darkness exploded in her every cell with a million different sensations. There was moisture around her, oozing into her pores concurrently with streaming rays of light – the heat of a burning star inside her core. Her taste buds were assaulted with the putrid stench of dead, rotting meat and the wispy scent of fresh raspberries. Wind caressed her – first gently, then so aggressively she felt herself bending, fingers and lips brushing against moist soil. Something weighed on her, pressing her in a vise as if her mind was a coin flipped and now she was the earth underfoot.

Griffin's body slammed into hers and knocked her to the ground. Her lithe frame threatened to crush Marion’s empty lungs without a single protest coming out through her breathlessness.

Cold prickled over Marion’s skin where Griffin’s weight disappeared. Her eyes could barely focus on the blurry nighttime blue of the sky above but something carved each of Griffin’s movements into her mind even amidst the cacophony in there.

Her insides swished around like she was an ocean crashing against the shore containing it. She was weightless, free-falling despite the hard ground under her back only to be swept up, stomach dropping into her heels as if she was a fallen leaf caught up in a gust of wind. Heaps of bugs crawled over and inside her body, their tiny legs moving over the same grass, leaves, bark and soil Marion’s skin brushed against almost tangibly as if she was both the insects and the environment. There were echoes to her breath, warped reflections of it following different rhythms altogether as if there was a buzzing swarm of creatures inside her, each living its own life but with her life force.

Only Griffin stood out, her magic sizzling in the air and seeping into the breath Marion drew in her lungs to distinguish it from the phantom organisms latched to her senses. There was no mirror image of Marion herself making the same steps as Griffin, feeling what she did with every footfall. She was only the ground under Griffin’s soles, the air writhing around her form, the glass transmuting into sand with the barest whisper of Griffin’s magic.

Griffin flashed out of existence, only a flow of energy left behind her that slithered between the atoms of matter around. Out of it, Griffin’s body materialized again – kneeling on the ground next to Marion, her fingers clasping tightly at Marion’s bicep before panic could replace the different patterns of life pulsing through her chest.

Marion hurried to mirror the grasp on her.

The soft earth unraveled underneath her back that slammed into the stone floor of Cloud Tower’s crypt again. The rest of her body poured back into its shape like she was made of ink. The taste of the potion finally rang a bell in her head.

Lifting her head took too much effort. She had no energy to spare on glaring at the witch, already on her feet, or slapping away the offered hand. She could swear she had sweated out her magic, the well of it in her core barely flickering with leftover sparks.

It was mostly Griffin pulling her off the floor and supporting her weight until she was steady on her feet again. The stiff coldness of the crypt was like a solid wall around her that wasn’t swayed by the timid motions of her chest. Her breath was once again the single force moving it – so faint in the absence of all the surrounding life that had been a part of her.

“Did we just change time?” Marion shivered, the power of the spell they’d used still rattling her bones.

“Of course not,” Griffin set the crystal cube in her hand on the table next to a small leather-bound book. “We created a fragment of an alternate universe based on a change I made in one of the journal entries detailing the history of the Startrap.”

Her fingers stroked the pages absentmindedly yet gently.

The dim light starting to flicker out in the cresset wasn’t the reason why Marion couldn’t spot telltale signs of alterations in the open journal. Griffin's work was just that skillful.

“We took it from a moment when no one would have missed it and brought it here so now our universe stirs to catch up. All it does is remove the little cube from where it’s supposed to be locked away since it’s right here with us. It’s just as though we conjured it out of its little prison by going around the impossibility of that.”

“By doing something else that’s impossible,” Marion’s head was spinning at the realization that the word probably meant nothing where Griffin was concerned.

They’d altered the natural course of the universe. Whether they’d changed time or manipulated their reality through a parallel one. It was still black magic. Forbidden magic. Unfamiliar magic. And Griffin had used it like it was second nature.

“Not when you add a little Dragon Fire,” Griffin smirked, all boldness despite having had to rely on Marion’s power.

Everything inside her was quaking, the tremors visible in her hands. The will of the power inside her, the warmth of her flames, had woven together a whole universe. A small universe but filled with life moved by her magic. It had been at her fingertips, under her skin and soaking her mind. She had the power to be one with anything, anyone. Maybe even...

She eyed the Startrap with vitriol. It had been designed by a witch, who had spent her whole life walking the very corridors of Cloud Tower, to store unlimited amounts of starlight. Before it could have been thoroughly tested, the Council had confiscated it out of concern that it could plunge the whole universe in darkness. It had been sealed away–along with the political leverage it would have given Cloud Tower–in an impenetrable trap of magic and void on a remote island centuries ago only for Griffin to rewrite history, shaping it like it was hers to mold and doing the same with Marion’s magic as well.

“Don’t look so wary,” Griffin leaned back against the table, hands braced comfortably at the edge. “The Startrap belongs here. As I said, Cloud Tower doesn’t like intruders – regardless of their kind of magic. We can make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Take it off the list of magic you’ve been trying to safeguard.”

The need for air slipped from Marion’s mind. Griffin had researched her, in detail. There was no other way she’d know about Marion’s mission – started nearly a decade ago with Oritel’s ardent and unwavering support. Her own mother remained more or less uninformed on the matter, though not through effort on Marion’s part.

Her voice grated against her parched throat, “You should have asked permission to use my magic.”

Performing black magic aside–Griffin wouldn’t risk drawing more ire towards dark magic users and the theft could never be traced back to them once it was noticed either–she could have been erased out of existence like Griffin had warned. Or lost her mind from the overload of sensation. Or gone mad chasing the high of pulling off a feat none in her family could have dreamed of.

The multitude of sensations was already fading from her mind but every lick of heat in her fingers sent her heart soaring – up in her mouth and outside her body to the depths of space. Her magic had expanded past the limits of her being and the very fabric of reality. The life of an entire universe sat inside her chest to kindle her inner flames furiously any time they might falter. And in the core of all that was nestled the firm grip on her hands, the warmth of Griffin’s touch on her skin.

“I didn’t make you drink the potion.” Griffin pushed off the table to come face to face with Marion, “Why did you?”

The question startled with the lack of smugness in it. Marion would have expected it to be teeth gnawing at her ribs to reach the flames inside her core and tear them apart as well. The gentle push of the words was unforeseen, like a caress through her curls unraveling her feverish thoughts. They’d spent too long rotting in her head. She had spent too long rotting in there.

Marion closed the gap between them, the warmth of Griffin’s breath guiding her to the witch’s lips. The kiss fell together, their lips fitting in one whole so naturally. The taste of it had Marion fighting the smile threatening to pull them apart yet growing wider at the rush of having caught Griffin off-guard, short-lived as it was.

Griffin’s teeth nibbled on Marion’s lips that parted leisurely to let her tongue in. It was her own heart bursting out and landing in Griffin’s mouth, following her withdrawing body. Marion stumbled after it blindly to stay locked between the warm arms around her. Her chest only settled once she was flush against Griffin, both of them braced against the table which had been the plan all along.

Griffin’s hands wove through Marion’s hairdo to ruin it like even the most monstrous of days and responsibilities couldn’t dream of doing. The wisps of hair falling out were like ribbons of fire tickling Marion’s neck and teasing her mind with visions of what else her powers could achieve in Griffin’s proximity. The sparks in her core flared anew, striving to erupt and rain around in a meteor shower of their own.

Griffin's magic answered her searching touch. It gathered on Griffin's skin where Marion could run her fingers over it, draw patterns in it and move it around like it was hers too. Like she could dip her fingertips into Griffin’s soul, unfettered.

For one glorious moment stretching past Marion’s expectations but still ending too soon Griffin was the only thing in the world. Griffin and the barest hint of a moan at the brush of Marion’s fingers against Griffin's pulse point, the heartbeat underneath racing faster as if to entice her into further strokes.

It slipped from her touch to be replaced by the need to hear the full sound blazing through her nerves.

Griffin's ragged breathing anchored her in the moment. The air in the crypt was dancing around them, moved by the passion continuing to spill from their parted lips and into the auras of magic around them – still touching despite the distance between their bodies. There was no loss for Marion to mourn.

“Should I assume we’re done with the attempts at persuading each other of the benefits of a partnership between us?” Griffin arched a brow at her dramatically but the corner of her mouth twitched up.

“I should hope so. I’d be afraid of discovering your other techniques of persuasion if your favored approach is hijacking someone’s magic,” Marion had to suppress the laughter bubbling behind her scandalized act.

It was pure joy bursting in her heart and kindling not just her flames, but her very soul.

“Maybe you should stay home with your daughter then, Princess,” Griffin teased, hands smoothing her skirt where it had bunched up against the table.

Marion couldn’t help the wistful smile clawing at her face. "I think that between the two of us Daphne would be more successful in acting the part of a caretaker."

Griffin considered her for a moment before sashaying past her, "Let me show you the way back. That way we'll both have an alibi in front of Her Majesty."

"And Headmistress Annora," Marion chimed, a quick touch of magic bringing order to her hairdo again.

"She doesn't want to know what I do. Lets her keep some plausible deniability." Griffin smirked at her over her shoulder.

The hint of teeth made him smile. It was nothing more than a playful graze on his soft flesh but his lips instantly parted for her as if she had the key to his heart.

She did. From the moment he’d seen her in flight, carried by the strength of her own wings. The wind born out of her velocity had made a mess of her hair, locks of it falling in a curtain over her eyes. It hadn’t made an impact on her sense of direction or the exhilaration charging every pulse of magic carrying from her. Strong enough to scorch the air right out of your lungs but lacking hostility. It was simply a force of nature, the very power that had created it.

Having her this close made his head spin. She didn’t need him, yet he was the center of her attention. Not needed, but wanted.

He could weep over his love for her, collect the tears and make them into crystals with his magic to adorn her hands, her head, her neck with jewelry. It would still fail to convey the depth of his feelings so he tried with kisses. Warm skin on warm skin as his lips trailed down her jaw and throat.

Marion pressed herself further into him, sighing at the feel of his erection against her hip. She tilted her head to give him access, a shiver running through her from where her own hair tickled her shoulder.

Reaching for it, his fingers brushed against the strap of her nightgown. A spark burst from the contact setting the fabric on fire.

It spread viciously, ashes raining from the white silk swallowed in flames. They didn’t look right – all red and golden. Not ashes at all but scales. Dragon scales.

Everywhere they fell, flowers sprouted, covering the stone gray of the palace in a thick blanket of their leathery petals. Like a wildfire they devoured the building and the garden bellow. Every crack and crevice in the walls was bursting with them to suffocate the screams blooming on the lips of the palace inhabitants, swallowed along with the stone. He might as well have imagined them – just a cruel echo of the warnings he’d been slapped in the face with and the mocking whispers behind his back.

A pawn. Means to an end. Entertainment. Prey. Boy toy. That’s all he was to Marion in everyone else’s eyes. She had everything she wanted at her fingertips, could have anyone to marry. Why pick a prince that was all but useless to his own family? Even his political influence was a cruel joke thrown in amidst people’s warnings about her lack of noble intentions. If she had a political maneuver in mind, she would have surely chosen one of his older brothers to date, someone more suited to her stature. He was nothing more than a way to pass the time, acceptable to have fun with without offending any potential future spouses.

The hand cupping his cheek startled him. Marion’s touch was feverish, just like his thoughts, yet decidedly not as dreadful. Her eyes were breathtaking, glistening like emeralds in the light of the flames dancing along her body. The heat stung his eyes but any tears evaporated before they had the chance to fully form. He’d have to find something else to offer her as worship.

Oritel turned to kiss her palm only for his lips to brush stiff, singed air. Marion was gripping the balustrade and hoisting herself over it, her momentum launching his heart into his throat.

He grabbed for her but his fingers sank into the flames her dress had become and closed into nothing. She was a breath away, and falling backwards.

Her wings caught her in the air. The draft that their furious fluttering stirred whipped him in the face and forced him back. She was up high and soaring like a free bird his magic couldn’t catch up to.

He slipped on the leathery blossoms claiming his home and landed among their red and gold with a dull thud. The shedding tears crystallized on his cheeks and cut through his flesh before slipping into the plush carpet of petals and leaves already cocooning him to disappear forever. She didn’t need them or the heart that was the only thing he had to his name, the only thing he had to offer her.

He’d caught a glimpse of his fate – same as that of the statues in the garden. Covered from head to toe in flowers, they were indistinguishable from one another. Indistinguishable from the living people engulfed by the vegetation smothering the palace. Only their eyes were left untouched, framed by the petals. A silent terror.

Music cut through the quiet from the distance and grew louder by the second. His heart seized the familiar tune, his mind screaming one name. Marion.

Oritel started in bed. His breathing was erratic but nothing, compared to his fingers feeling around for the source of the ringing.

It was his phone. Marion’s name was on the screen.

He answered but his throat was too tight to let his voice through.

“Good morning,” her greeting came from the other end of the line to fill the empty air of his chamber. The polite pitch was undermined by the little rough edges cut into her voice by emotion. Like her heart was skipping beats but you could only make that out if you’d spent the time getting to know its usual patterns.

“It is now,” Oritel rasped, the joy racing through him stealing all of his breath.

He had to swallow a downpour of love confessions to save them. Give them to her only when she wanted them.

“For me as well,” Marion’s smile carried in her words just like the warmth of the sun caught in her eyes.

The slashes and jabs he’d practiced with his sword until they’d become second nature were useless against the frost that had come to life under the sound of their footsteps. Their mere presence had steered the environment to violence and their number did nothing in their favor as the rest of the Specialists weren’t faring any better than him. Watching Red Fountain crumble under the coils of Icy’s magic hadn’t paralyzed him so thoroughly when his classmates and teachers had fought by his side against the regenerating decay monsters. Here the hissing blocks of ice with needle-sharp teeth were limited in number but the white of their bodies stretched all the way into the horizon. There was no end to the curse of Dyamond.

The reach of Stella’s light was the only safety around except for the ship orbiting the planet at Timmy’s command. Yet, the wobble in her arms had sneaked all the way into her voice despite the steady stream of warmth covering his back unlike the brief explosions of heat announcing Bloom’s movements over the battlefield.

Even her power was failing against the ice monsters that learned it no differently from the attacks of all the other girls. Once a spell was used against them, they collectively gained immunity to its particular structure. Something about water being proven to have memory according to both Tecna and Layla.

The creature in front of him raised its arm to make him stumble without a counterweight. Right in the way of the swooping ice claw ready to smash his skull.

Thin threads snaked around him and pulled him back. The ice claw tore the air where his face had been and shattered the frozen earth. The clamor shook Brandon where he hit the ground, his ribs threatening to crack from the force knocking all the air out of him. The cold burned his stiff fingers that clutched pointlessly at the hilt of his sword as he failed to brace himself.

He couldn’t even groan, only lift his head for Helia’s concerned face to come into focus. He managed a thumbs-up to thank him for his timely use of the power glove before he scrambled to push himself up to his feet.

Both he and Helia jumped at Nex’s scream and the flickering of the light dome covering them. One of the monsters pierced through the magical barrier, only a breath away from Nex’s face and the chills he had to feel in the proximity ran down Brandon’s spine as well. Stella’s shield that was still a “magic in progress” was impossible for the creatures to adapt to until complete but her energy wasn’t endless.

A laser beam out of Timmy’s new blaster severed the ice claw where Stella’s light made it vulnerable. The protruding limb crumbled to the ground under the creature’s shrieking.

“Thanks, Timmy,” Nex grinned, seemingly unfazed by the blood-curdling sound.

“No problem.” The wariness in Timmy’s voice only reverberated in the lack of a smile or at least the hints of one.

“Hey, Sky,” Brandon yelled out in no particular direction, “falling back might be the only strategy we have left here.” He used his sword as a crutch to steady himself on his feet.

“I hear you, buddy, but if the ship gets destroyed... we’ll be stuck here,” Sky’s response barely made it over the wind.

It was difficult to tell where it came from with Bloom flying Sky all over the place wrapped in fire. Her powers left her the only one able to counter the magical winds the ice creatures caused. She just had to keep the flames away from everyone else to avoid burning them.

“I need you all to form a circle around me,” Stella’s voice was loud and clear despite the strained micro pause following every word. “Timmy, get the ship right above us at the edge of the atmosphere.”

Brandon scampered to her to watch her back. If she covered them in a sphere of light, that could allow the girls to fly the Specialists up to the ship. If it were possible with her wings quivering from the exhaustion seeping into them from her muscles.

The others flocked back under the protection of the shield with the monsters stabbing through the air and the dome of light after them. Everyone circled him and Stella, fairy next to a Specialist as if they’d had his idea.

“Done,” Timmy’s voice had Brandon focusing on a speck hovering above their heads that could very well be a figment of his imagination.

“What’s the plan?” Tecna looked to Stella instead of bothering to double-check on Timmy.

“Hold them back while I refocus my magic.”

Brandon’s stomach twisted and he nearly lost his balance from the rush of blood pounding in his ears. If anyone else was as shocked as him, their body language didn’t betray them. They all turned around, following Stella’s instructions while his eyes widened to the size of stars still not getting a clear image of her.

“Stella, no!”

Arms trapped him in a vise grip, the friction of his strength against the other person’s scorching through him to do nothing for his numb fingers. The hilt of his sword was digging in his skin to bruising but he couldn’t reach for Stella.

“You’re too exhausted,” the words stuck to his throat like he had to swallow ice blades and his tongue was frozen.

“We have no choice,” Stella gritted her teeth as a wave of magic flowed from her under her direction to sweep over the rest of them.

“Do it, Stella,” Bloom’s words burned in Brandon’s ears.

It was a flash.

Stella’s shield vanished.

The monsters surged at them.

Musa’s sonic waves boosted by Tecna sent them flying back.

Layla’s morphix and Flora’s plants held the creatures down.

A blinding light spilled from Stella and through his body to wash away everything else.

The wind wasn’t stinging his cheeks and lips. The snow didn’t fill his vision. The arms around him weren’t crushing his chest. His own body was erased. There was only the weight in his mind.

His feet hit the ship’s deck and he stumbled with the momentum of the body next to him. Riven grunted an apology in his ear and pulled him to his feet as Timmy dashed to the controls to get them out of there.

Stella’s body crashed into his sight lowered down to the floor by Musa and Sky. She was motionless even as Bloom’s magic flamed around her body like an aura seeping into her skin to melt away the danger.

He made a shaky step back, the voices of his friends mashing together. He slapped away the hands holding on to him, eyes trained on the glow dissipating around Bloom’s hands as Stella’s body absorbed the healing magic to no reaction.

Bloom wavered and fell into Sky’s arms freeing the space at Stella’s side.

Brandon’s knees hit the floor but it was the faint movements of Stella’s chest that were like a gut-punch. His fingers grabbed at her arms and the sparkling orange top that had replaced her Bloomix outfit to move her into his lap as he heaved for breath. Her skin was burning from the effort that had drained every last spark of her magic.

“Stella.” His eyes blurred with tears to keep the horrible stillness gripping her body out of his sight.

Someone knelt on Stella’s other side. There was a quiet rustling before he caught a flash of magic out of the corner of his eye.

“She’ll be fine, Brandon,” Flora’s voice and the warmth of her fingers next to his on Stella’s shoulder reached him. “I’ll need a minute to ground her energy and tie it to the roots of my plants but she’ll wake up as soon as I’m done. You’ll see.”

Flora waited for his reaction but when she didn’t get one, she scooted closer to Stella’s feet and started spreading bright pink pollen around Stella’s body.

“I’ll repeat the healing spell,” Bloom’s feverish heat plowed into him with a wave of nausea as she reached to concentrate the leftovers of her magic.

“No!” Brandon held out his arm to keep her away. “You already did enough.”

Bloom shuffled back as if he’d slapped her until she hit the sturdy body behind her. Everything was a blur in Brandon’s vision but he made out the movements of an arm wrapping around Bloom’s shoulders protectively. Sky.

“Brandon.”

“First you sneak off after the girls and almost get yourself killed and now Bloom drags us on a second mission to a dead and frozen planet. Wasn’t one enough for a lifetime?”

Sky had acted as if almost drowning had been a fever dream. He’d still foolishly mobilized them to go to the surface of a forbidden planet. A cursed planet that they knew nothing about. A dead planet.

Dyamond wasn’t like Domino. The witch that had cursed it was still there, her incantations almost audible in the wind swiping across the whole planet. Her life force made her monsters impervious to both physical weapons and magical attacks. She’d died for her revenge so that her lingering spirit would ensure the rest of Dyamond was forever caught in a death trap as well.

A quiet, trembling voice only ignited his fury further as it whispered, “Brandon.”

“A leader is supposed to do the necessary prep work, not push their teammates past their limits. A simple desire to do good is not enough.”

His teeth ground together like he was biting through ice. He wouldn’t refuse Icy help despite how, similarly to Dyamond’s curse, her magic had been on the verge of killing them countless times. But he wouldn’t offer assistance at the price of their own lives.

The image of Sky prostrated on the floor with a freezing heart was just as much of a slippery slope in his mind as that of Helia becoming an ice statue after turning on all of them, including Flora. Falling down that rabbit hole was chilling with the reminders of Bloom’s near fatal first encounter with Icy and the coldness looming over all of them with Bloom’s Dragon Fire at the witch’s disposal. He wouldn’t watch Stella be unable to light up the way Bloom had been stripped of her magic.

“Brandon.”

His head snapped back to Stella’s still form in his lap at the brush of her hair against his fingers. He blinked back tears, his eyes widening to sneak a peak past the water curtain blocking them.

The familiar warmth of golden irises greeted him as Stella lifted a slow hand towards his face.

He clasped her fingers and brought them to his mouth pressing soft kisses to them. New tears stung his eyes like the relief was poking his lungs to release all his air. “Stella.”

“Go easy on our friends, Brandon. I’m not the only one who fought but the decision to do it was all mine.” She stroked a fingertip over the cracks in his lips from the cold.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I...” he cupped her cheek, his heart leaping to reach her when she leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, a small content smile adorning her face. “We’ve already lost too much... We can’t afford to lose anyone ever again.”

He hadn’t been there when Tecna had fallen into Omega but he knew just like the rest of them that the only thing that had been able to fill her absence had been the loud happiness of finding her again. He’d seen Riven push himself in harm’s way to save Musa from Darkar’s spell when he himself had been unable to move. He’d witnessed Stella’s bravery as she’d gone down against one of the dragons he’d ridden dozens of times. He couldn’t watch her push herself until she couldn’t recover from the loss of magic. He wouldn’t recover if he had to lose her or another one of their friends after they already lived every day without Nabu’s smile and the ease of his presence to ground even the jumpiest of them.

Stella gasped as if his thoughts had leaked into her and lifted her head to look past him.

The sound of footsteps was so clear in the dead silence that he didn’t startle when a hand grasped his shoulder. He didn’t turn to look at Layla but squeezed her hand, the returned gesture finally freeing his stomach from the knot it’d tied itself into.

“Let’s get Stella to Solaria. The Second Sun should boost her like nothing else,” Sky suggested.

“No, I’m fine,” Stella waved her hand before reaching to offer Layla her touch. “I can catch a tan once we’ve returned the summer to Dyamond.”

A clicking sound took over the silence only to fade in the background as Tecna spoke, “Brandon has a point. We have to do some research first before we head back to Dyamond.”

“To Alfea then?” Timmy was already fiddling with the ship’s controls.

Brandon nodded, eyes locked on Stella’s fiery gaze as she used Layla’s help to sit up an inch before Layla focused on assisting Flora with undoing the tangle of roots around Stella’s ankles.

“Actually, perhaps Domino’s library would have better records of Dyamond’s past concerns for national security as a former Dominian colony?” Helia asked.

The feud with the Shaman Witch predated Domino’s fall, that much was clear. Bloom’s parents could have obtained the key information needed to break the curse of Dyamond. They’d updated their books after Domino’s restoration.

“Course is set to the Roc then,” Timmy confirmed the change in plans.

“I’ll call my parents to see if they have something as well,” Layla patted Stella’s hand and stepped aside to where Nex was scrolling on his phone. Probably to pull from his old contacts from his time as a paladin.

“I’ll ask Daphne for her expertise. She can also see what Alfea has and whether Ms Faragonda can offer some assistance,” Bloom extracted herself from Sky’s embrace.

“I’ll do that,” Flora rose up from Stella’s side. She smiled at Stella and headed to an empty corner of the ship to have the conversation undisturbed.

Bloom caught Brandon’s gaze while she was checking on Stella from a distance. She murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Watching her bow her head in defeat sent a pang of guilt through Brandon. “I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t right to blame you.”

“No, I... was abusing Stella’s effectiveness,” Bloom waved her hands, pointedly looking at Stella to keep her from interfering. Or to keep from looking at Brandon now that she had no more excuses to occupy her. “You were right to call me out.”

Sky wrapped an arm around her waist for support and pulled her back into him. He placed a kiss on her forehead as Bloom nuzzled into his side. He gave Brandon an imploring look booking a conversation for later before leading Bloom to sit down for the first time in hours.

Helia had joined Tecna’s research team and was folding some origami according to her instructions, possibly deciphering some clue.

Musa and Riven were the only ones still standing awkwardly a little ways to the side.

Riven shifted, grabbing on to Musa who had his hand clasped in both of hers. “I was thinking... maybe we’re missing one of the most important sources.”

“Icy,” Stella startled all three of them.

Brandon nodded. “You think you can contact the Trix?”

“Between my sound waves and Darcy’s psychic powers, it shouldn’t be too hard,” Musa almost wrapped herself around Riven who responded in kind to her silent reassurance.

If Icy would be willing to reveal personal information to her sworn enemies, they could very well end up having to work with the Trix. That would require a whole lot of reassurances across the board even if Icy had helped against Valtor.

“We’ll get on to that,” Riven shifted again, avoiding everyone else’s gazes.

“Thanks.”

Riven waved Brandon off and slowly walked away with Musa who winked at Stella and smiled at him, eyes darting towards Stella to give Brandon a push before she turned to kiss Riven’s cheek. It was a relief to see him melt into her after the death of his best friend had been thrown in his face like that. If the flashback had been too potent for Brandon, he would’ve hardly been able to imagine the force with which it had hit Layla and Riven even if he weren’t trying his best to avoid it.

At least he wasn’t alone in that, everyone else busying themselves with work to focus on the successes waiting for them, not on the failures they’d had to swallow.

“Brandon,” Stella laced their fingers together, pulling him back into the moments when she’d been out of commission to leave him stranded outside her touch. “I’m sorry I worried you. But I have to be in the center of the action to watch your back, and the girls’, and the guys’.” She worried her bottom lip but continued, “You understand.”

All too well. Wherever one of them went, the others followed. And they’d never sit by instead of working on making sure no one else had to lose a friend, a loved one. Even at the price of their own lives.

“I know. I freaked out.” He scrubbed his hand over his face as if he could erase the past to keep it from tainting Stella’s smile and the faint but insistent spark in her eyes.

“I know. I did, too,” Stella grabbed his hand for dear life, her other palm cupping his cheek. “I would never leave you behind willingly. Any of you.”

"What's the point of a partnership if your partner's left behind?" Griffin folded her arms over her chest discreetly brushing over her bruised ribs. The magic bleeding from her fingertips washed over the injury to leave it a minor discomfort in her mind as she gulped a breath to dive into the depths for Valtor’s meaning.

Where she’d attack Callisto’s Palace of Culture from a tactical point of view, he’d attack the royal palace to cause panic. Neither strategy was good on account of him going alone, however.

Griffin shook her head at herself. The Palace of Culture was the center of the capital’s community and arguably the most important–and therefore most protected–building in the realm. And the royal residence had its own guard, high in number enough to stand even against Valtor.

“What’s the point of a partner that risks adding on to a preexisting injury?” Valtor’s voice echoed around her as if trying to leave her unharmed in the eye of his storm.

His gaze pinned in both their focus the little charges of healing magic her fingers were spreading over her ribs. He pointedly refused to look away from the reminder that her vulnerability far exceeded his.

He’d taken the fall in front of the Ancestral Witches. He always did. That wasn’t something she was ever allowed to help him with. They were unyielding about it.

Griffin sighed and closed the gap between her and Valtor. She laid her palms on his chest. “And an equally responsible partner wouldn’t let you go alone.”

If anything, Fallat had been her failure. They’d gone in equally unprepared for the bioluminescent humanoid creatures not just surviving but thriving in a planetary system without a sun. She’d been the one who’d reacted instinctively and gotten herself injured in her lack of planning. Valtor had pulled her out in one piece only to freeze at the inconsequential amounts of magic she was using to alleviate the sting of her mistake.

He hadn’t acted out of panic. He’d seen her take harder hits from Marion and Saladin, even Hagen and Oritel. It had been deliberate defiance. He’d chosen to care more for her and their future than the immediate success of the operation. She’d kiss him senseless if that weren’t most of his incentive to wrap up his solo mission as efficiently as possible and come back to her.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you doubt me.” Valtor grabbed both her wrists in his hand like he did in lieu of restraints–magical or otherwise–keeping her pinned to the bed. His fingers slipped between hers, letting her grab on tightly as he placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I got this, Griffin.”

"And what if you run into the Company?”

They would expect her to show up as well. With that much she could still help him. It could be enough if he used it along the deception magic and brute force the Ancestral Witches had taught him. But they’d also taught him their impatience and intolerance for repeat failures. He wouldn’t come back to her without the magic he was after even if he could.

“You'll need me," Griffin pushed through the dryness sticking to her throat like cotton. Almost as if he was using his fire on her in fear of the tears of pain–emotional or physical–she might shed.

Valtor cupped her cheek and she leaned into him, letting him hold her hands, her words, her breath. “You should rest. There will be other jobs that require your expertise.”

His intent oozed through her skin at the feel of the magic lingering under his. He only channeled all of it where it would burst out at the first movement he hadn’t accounted for when she fought against him to keep both of them sharp. Or when he had to face the Ancestral Witches and their habit of controlling bodies that didn’t belong to them. Only when her presence was of no help to him, even worked against him.

“I’ll be working on our side project while waiting.” She lifted her chin, away from the warmth of his palm, and steeled her spine in resistance against the stabbing pangs shooting from her chest all the way to her fingertips with every breath. “No sense in wasting the opportunity.”

She worked faster without his frustration to manage and his presence to distract her with the fantasies of a job well done. Every day she failed to free him from the voices in his head, he was in danger of believing their cruelty. He would never be self-sufficient with them listening in on his every heartbeat and shaping it to their liking.

Valtor’s fingers twitched between hers and he let her hands drop from his grip to shake off his own weakness and her keen gaze, mapping out the contours of it in his mind. “Griffin-”

Her fists closed in the lapels of his coat and she crashed her lips on his.

He met her momentum without stumbling. Instead, he only leaned into her and let his breath fill her lungs to bursting. It carried the faint scent of smoke as if he’d caught fire from the explosion of power at the collision of their magic. The sizzling energy ran up her veins and wrapped around her to bind her to him. His fingertips ghosted over her ribs before trailing the side of her breast.

Griffin’s whine broke their tongues apart. Running her teeth over his lower lip pulled it into a smirk threatening to interrupt the kiss. It was her voice that did that as it spilled between them at the tingles running over her scalp when he combed his fingers through her hair.

“Griffin.” Her name was a love confession as he brushed his fingers down her neck and over her cleavage as if to make her breasts rise with a new breath after she’d gifted him hers. “You should save your energy to celebrate this victory when I come back.”

A grin broke out on her face.

Her victory. Over the voices in his head.