Metaworld Chronicles: Here be Dragons
Date: 2024-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Here be Dragons

David J. Wuto

Mango Media LLC

Dedication

To Jenny

For reading my terrible first drafts

Blurb

An opportunity arrives. Following Gwen’s rediscovery of her family, she must find her Mage Path in the magical city of Shanghai, battling pressure from relatives, expectations from instructors, and her personal struggles with the Void. In Fudan University, she must ensure that she does not lose her wits, all the while finding a path to power that will not alienate her from the family she had acquired in her second life. Continue your adventures with Gwen as she and dearest Uncle Jun ponder the possibilities of poaching for Draconic fortunes, deep in the heart of the Huangshan Mountains, where the Yinglong, an old, ancient Dragon, slumbers...

Copyright © David Jian Wu 2023 produced by Mango Media LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher at admin@mangomediapublishing.com.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book cover by Sanwansen. Typesetting by Miblart.

Contents

1. Balance in All Things

2. Rest and Relax

3. Of Peaches and Men

4. Shadows on the Wall

5. For Thou Art with Me

6. This Far, No Further

7. Nighthawks

8. Great Anticipation

9. No Mitigating Nourishment

10. Nothing Quite like Loneliness

11. Pinky Promises

12. Detours

13. Laughing the Night Away

14. Tempus Fugit

15. Hai Five

16. Goats and Monkeys!

17. Frogger

18. A Model of You

19. Bush Meat

20. Happy Campers

21. Come A-Waltzing Matilda with Me

22. Her Beauty and Her Terror

23. Silencing the Lamb

24. Karma Comes Calling

25. Millstone

26. Calamity Gwen

27. Truth will Out

28. A Series of Unfortunate Events

29. The Black Goat

30. How to Make Gravy

31. Confessions of a Dragon-Kin in Hangzhou

32. How Much do I Love Thee?

33. How to Fold a Paper Tiger

34. Whetting the Appetite

35. The Undertow

36. Stick in the Mud

37. Curtain Call

38. Interlude -

Thank You

Glossary

Elements & Elemental Magic

Chapter one

Balance in All Things

Shanghai

Gouding B1

Before she went to bed, Gwen sent an LR Message to Elvia via the LRC device, petitioning for a conference on Sunday. Her purpose wasn't so much that she would reveal her direst secrets to Elvia. It was the solace she could gain by speaking to the Healer and bathing in her angelic light.

Likewise, she sent an urgent communication to Gunther, asking to speak to her brother-in-craft about the consumption encounter, concurrently requesting an opportunity to converse with Alesia or Yue.

After that, Gwen was due her morning session with Magister Wen. Together, they could obtain numbers, investigate a few possibilities, and go from there. Any plans made in haste would be purposeless if their knowledge were incomplete. Afterwards, she took another shower to cool her feverish mind and wash away the fatigue. Her body felt tense and vital, yet her lobes felt sluggishly strained by insomnia.

Towelling herself dry, she received a Message from Mayuree beside her ear. Ding! "Ah-Lei is making breakfast now. Come whenever—XXOO"

Gwen had to admit that the ending kissy noises were a little cringeworthy, but the Diviner meant well.

Petra was up as soon as Gwen had finished with the shower. Her cousin rinsed, slipped into smart casuals, and was ready and waiting by the time Gwen “made up” a confident face to face the world.

When the two girls arrived at the mezzanine of the lofty penthouse, Lei was busily plating a western-style breakfast of petite sandwiches, fingers of French toast and fresh butter-cream pancakes.

The Sword Mage siblings, Lulan and Kusu, moved from the long table, as Gwen entered. Together, they stood and bowed.

"No, don't do that," Gwen said, flustered by the formality.

"Told you so," Lulan complained to her brother.

"That doesn't matter." Kusu shot his sister a glare of vexation. "This is proper!"

"Please, you're making this awkward." Gwen walked past the pair casually, inferring she wasn't keen to stand on ceremony. "Come on, let's sit together."

"See?" Lulan scoffed.

They turned their eyes toward Petra, who introduced herself. "Petra Kuznetsova. I am Gwen's cousin and roommate."

"Miss Kuznetsova." The both of them tipped their chins respectfully. Petra was as infamous a second-year as they come. After all, the girl was The Flower—or, as some would say—the Ice Queen of Fudan.

"Pleased to meet you." Petra shook their hands. Like most people meeting Petra for the first time, the effortless intimidation given off by her Siberian husky eyes made her seem aloof and distant. From what Gwen could guess, Petra's incomplete training at the Moscow Tower had given her a cynical outlook toward folk she did not know well.

"Gwen, welcome! You're up nice and early." Mayuree descended from the second floor in a loose shirt and shorts. "Let me freshen up. I'll be down soon. Kitty's already up. She's such a light sleeper."

Kitty sat a little off the couch, facing the magnificent view of the Fudan campus below. She raised a slender hand and waved it flaccidly, communicating her ambivalence at Gwen's presence.

Gwen waved back as the Diviner disappeared. "Kitty, good morning."

Lei brought over a freshly brewed set of coffee and tea. "This is Lei, Mayuree's maid," Gwen introduced the Huashan siblings to the masterful woman running back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. "Don't underestimate her because she's an NoM. Her breakfasts are magical."

"Ah, you're too kind, Mistress Song," Lei simpered, softly sliding the beverages onto the table. "You and Miss Kuznetsova are looking so pretty, as always. Your skin looks amazing today, almost like a Healing Mage’s."

"I have a healthy appetite," Gwen said guiltily, mindful of how much she ate to satiate her Void-hunger. "It's all your nutritious cooking, Lei. You're spoiling me."

Lei allowed a happy smile to touch her lips, then returned to her labour.

Richard joined them a quarter of an hour later. Soon joined by Mayuree, the party poured over pancakes and coffee, discussing their plans for the immediate future.

"I am going to see Magister Wen for my check-up, and then I'll return to classes on Monday,” Gwen said.

"I'll be returning to Nantong for a short while." Richard sipped his milk tea. "For the next few weeks, at least, I'll be out of Shanghai four days out of seven."

"You need to relax a little, Dick," Gwen chided her workaholic cousin. She was a compulsive worker too, but her training at the range did not involve daily endangerments. Questing gave Richard practical experience, generate CCs and provide credit, but he’d left himself with no time to learn new spells or engage in Arcane theory. However, her cousin had said practical work with Lea helped him develop his skills the most. He exercised Conjuration constantly while employed under gainful employment and got to practice Abjuration, a School of Magic best practised in the field.

“That's all very good, Dick. But wouldn't Uncle and Aunty rather wait than have you risk your life?”

Richard thanked her but otherwise offered no indication he heeded her advice.

"I am with Gwen. Back to classes." Mayuree chopped into her pancakes, smothering them in Wildland beechwood honey. "That and I need to finish some family requests for Divination."

"Classes and practice." Kitty's answer was as cold as usual.

"We'll look for a place to stay first." Lulan poked her pancake curiously, obviously unused to such delicately made western food. "Then back to class. I am with Richard, though. Most of my classes will be for Questing credits."

Petra wasn't on the same level as the regular students and left herself out of the conversation. Gwen knew she couldn’t participate even if she’d wanted; her research with Wen on Gwen was classified.

"Where's Marong?" Gwen asked. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"As it should be," Kitty replied haughtily. Gwen wondered if this meant she was in a better mood than expected. "Brother has gone home for a while. There have been some issues with the family business."

"Anything serious?"

"Don't know." Mayuree shrugged. "I didn't have any foreshadowing visions, so it's either nothing serious or…"

"Or?"

"Or it's beyond my ability to foresee." Mayuree shook her head. "Worry not. My brother will take care of it. There's also a second sister to take care of things back at home."

Gwen had asked Mayuree about the family, but the girl's answers remained evasive. Not wanting to step on any toes, she figured Mayuree would tell her when she was comfortable enough to reveal the House of M's mysterious origins.

Breakfast continued until Gwen was full, which was only three pancakes. Lei had prepared three stacks in anticipation of her abnormally large appetite and became notably upset that her labour had been wasted. "Are you feeling well, Miss?" Lei regarded Gwen worriedly. "You usually finish the whole plate. No need for a diet."

"I am fine, Lei. Thanks for asking." Gwen firmly pushed the rest of the pancakes away. "All right, Petra and I better get going. Magister Wen is likely waiting for us. Mia, thanks for breakfast, as usual. Lei, it was delicious."

"Bye, Miss Song."

"See you in class on Monday. Call me if you want to do lunch, and let Lei know if you're coming for dinner." Mayuree's generosity was boundless.

"Will do." Gwen faced Lulan and Kusu. "Good luck. I know the rental market can be brutal."

"We should have enough to scrape by," Lulan assured her. "I'll take care of Kusu."

Should have. Gwen winced, reminding herself that she still possessed a thousand HDMs that had once belonged to the siblings. I should return it, Gwen thought. If she was going to help, a little more generosity couldn't hurt. It wasn't as though she needed the money immediately.

"One more thing. Kusu, I've still got your HDMs." Gwen produced ten 100 HDM currency cards from her ring.

Kusu's refusal to meet her eyes suggested he could use 1000 HDMs to get through the current semester and the next, but he was too honourable to take the cash. "No, I'll be fine," Kusu replied with eyes that longed for the currency cards. “I’ll live… off… my… sis.”

The sheepishness of the young man broke Gwen's heart.

She shoved the cards toward him. "On loan then, from me. I'll tell you when I need it back."

Kusu looked as though he was still going to refuse, but Lulan extended her hands and took possession of the currency cards. "We owe you again, Gwen," Lulan said, her voice taking on an affected tone.

"It's nothing. I also came to Shanghai from the Frontier, so I know how hard it can be without a steady source of income," Gwen said. "Anyhoo, I’ve got to go. Good luck."

Kusu bowed again, this time from the waist. Lulan hesitated for a moment, then mimicked her brother. Mayuree glanced from Gwen to the siblings, then back again.

Once the two were gone, Mayuree shook her head at Gwen. "You know, Gwennie," the merchant Diviner made a face, "how come no one thought of asking me for a loan? What's a few thousand HDMs to the heir of the House of M?"

Fudan upper campus

Shanghai’s mid-June turned unbearably warm, meaning the greenery encircling the Yi-Fu Spellcraft Building was beginning to fray and dry. The heat, however, failed to dampen the spirit of Magister Wen, who was waiting on the girls in front of the Cognisance Chambers.

“Gwen! Good, you are here.” Magister Wen's cold fingers felt like steel cables. "Oh, you poor dear. The Districts have been a horrid experience. Terrible, yes, but wonderful all the same."

"It was bittersweet, for sure." Gwen allowed the Magister to feign her sympathy. She was beginning to empathise with how blue-ribbon cows felt at the Sydney Easter Show.

"Nonetheless, I have full confidence in you." Magister Wen pulled herself away. "Think of the incident as a new chapter, if you will. You have my full support."

Gwen felt goosebumps crawling up her thighs. The magical haze over the city trapped the heat, but even so, her bare legs reacted as though a chilling wind had blown through the shaded avenues.

"How curious." Magister Wen curled her lips. "You have a very particular aura about you. A Cleric, perhaps. Can you write a report later, perhaps fill out a survey? How was it, on a scale of one to ten, that sort of thing."

"Sure thing, ma'am." Gwen wasn't sure if Magister Wen's academic disregard made her feel better or worse. The Magister's open admiration for murder, Gwen felt, was precisely the sort of dangerous thinking she should be avoiding.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" The scholar was all smiles. "I've booked the big one. This way."

The largest of the Cognisance Chambers was almost two tennis courts in size and took fifty HDMs to power a session lasting no more than an hour. Gwen had no idea why Magister Wen had booked such an exorbitant fare, only that she should be wary.

As the trio reached the threshold, they were accosted by two men in military uniforms. From the rank insignias on their collars, one was a PLA Major, while the other was dressed like someone from Top Gun, bearing a sky-blue lapel with three stripes. The major was Han Chinese and carried the ubiquitous sobriety typical of senior PLA. His counterpart was a dark-haired Caucasian man with a prominent Roman nose.

"Ma'am?" Gwen swallowed twice rapidly. It was a bit early to sell her out. Magister Wen hadn't even completed her papers yet.

"No need to fret, my dear." Magister Wen patted her hand, though Gwen noticed that the Magister had taken the opportunity to grasp her by the wrist. Was she afraid that Gwen was going to abscond? If so, where was she going to go? "These men are here for you. They're neutral observers informing the highest power."

"Observers of what?" Gwen enquired carefully. The implication made her knock-kneed. Her morning pancakes threatened to make an upward journey; she could almost taste the tart berries tickling the back of her throat.

"Let's speak inside, away from prying eyes." The Caucasian man opened the door. "I mean you no disadvantage, Miss Song, though I cannot say the same for our mutual friend."

"Humph!" The PLA officer grunted, proceeding through the threshold.

Inside the Cognisance Chamber, the vast, egg-like sphere of white tiles made a strange, spaceless spectacle. There were no definitive edges for the viewer to gauge the distance, giving the impression that they'd stepped into a place unconstrained by dimensions.

"It'll be okay," Petra assured her. "I don't know who the other guy is, but Commander Webber has connections to the Mageocracy, which means your siblings-in-craft in Sydney."

With a whisper, the door shut behind them. For a few seconds, the only audible sound was their collective breaths echoing faintly through the acoustic ambience of the chamber.

The man with the protruding Roman nose spoke first. "Wing Commander Derrick Webber, Miss Song. Attached to the Pudong Tower. I am currently assigned under the Second Specialist Aerial Mage-Wing of Her Majesty's Royal Forces. I am also a registered Magus under the jurisdiction of The Shard, London."

The PLA Officer scoffed at Webber's British verbosity. "Major Wong, PLA," the soldier announced stoically.

After a formal bow, Gwen extended a hand to shake. Webber took her fingers and gave her a cordial civilian's handshake. Major Wong shot the commander a look of disdain.

"Very good. I'll take it from here." Magister Wen came between them. "Gentlemen, you may stand there, and Gwen, there. Good. As you know, these men are from the PLA Tower and the Pudong Tower. Both Towers have been keeping an eye on your progress. News of your unique talent has reached some very high places."

"High places, ma'am?"

Wen pointed a finger upward toward the ceiling. "So they tell me," she replied, glancing at the two men. "At any rate, these men are not here to interfere with your life. They are here to confirm the contents of our paper. Please be at ease."

That's easy for you to say. Gwen slightly creased her brows. What was she to show and what was she to hide?

Magister Wen motioned to the operator hidden in the paned portion of the chamber. "Begin!"

The chamber dimmed. Space became indefinite as the illusion took place.

Standing at the chamber's centre, Gwen's astral form materialised below her, a sculptural spectacle of light and dark with motes of emerald appearing and disappearing. The two men produced data slates and began to scribe onto the transmuted surface.

"Gwen, cycle through your Schools of Magic, please."

Gwen nodded, then turned her mind inward.

Evocation.

Conjuration.

Abjuration.

Divination.

Transmutation.

The sigils flared one after another, made material by the Cognisance Chamber's illusory projection.

When she looked at her examiner for reactions, she saw that Magister Wen's wizened face resembled a ripening pippin. Petra remained stoic while the two military men scribbled furiously on their slates.

The entire room was basked in the glow of illusory sigils, from the silvery-white of Conjuration to the pale purple nimbus of Transmutation.

"Congratulations, Gwen." Magister Wen clapped her hands. Perhaps wanting to place more emphasis on the matter, she paused before continuing. "Or I should say, Magus Gwen Song?"

"I am sorry?" Gwen almost lost her concentration. "M-Magus?"

"Ha! Did that surprise you?" Wen chuckled, her hands touching the palm to make a happy clap. "By Frontier standards, you are indeed already a Magus. We're a little more discerning here in Fudan, though. I doubt you would pass muster in theory craft."

"So you're saying…"

"Oh, yes," Magister Wen gushed happily. "Both your Conjuration and Evocation look to have reached the mid-tiers, making you an unofficial Magus."

A part of Gwen knew she should be happy. Summoning the joy to celebrate her ascension, however, was another challenge altogether.

"Let's have a demonstration for our gentlemen observers," Wen instructed her. "What are your tier IV Evocation Spells?"

"Just Elemental Sphere, ma'am," Gwen felt almost embarrassed to say that as a “genius” Sorceress, her entire spell list numbered under twenty and was primarily preoccupied with low-level incantations.

"Go ahead, then."

Gwen nodded, turning to the far side of the egg-shaped dome. As she cycled through the necessary mental and somatic preparations, her observers again began their furious scribing.

Bit by bit, her astral form tapped into the Elemental Plane of Lightning, filling her mana conduits with vivid electricity. The mana coalesced in her torso, then flooded forth as the spell manifested.

"Elemental Sphere!"

Like a pressurised pool of liquid finding escape, the lightning-charged mana escaped from the crucible of her astral body, becoming a controlled arc of plasma that traversed toward its target destination, then imploded before rapidly expanding outwards, first as a semi-dome sphere, then as a burst of static electricity.

"That's Einar Larsen's signature spell." Wing Commander Webber raised a brow of approval. "I know this spell too. It is not easy to master."

"It's all I know," Gwen peeped modestly.

"You're only seventeen," Commander Webber informed her confidently. "When I was seventeen, I was suffering detention at Sandhurst for failing muster. A tier IV signature spell at seventeen, and you feel ashamed? You shame me!"

His counterpart tapped his slate. "It's impressive," Major Wong concurred. "Please continue."

"Are you all right to perform a Void variant?" Magister Wen asked her carefully.

"Yes, ma'am." Gwen was also interested in seeing what would happen if she should try to expend some of this excess vitality. Taking a deep breath, she resumed her labour.

Below, her astral form assumed a tenebrous ichor of sinister obsidian. She saw the gathered Mages step back from the vertigo as nausea assailed their physical bodies.

"Void Sphere!"

The spell manifested as an expanding bubble of sable ink that exploded outwards in a swirling pattern of Void matter. When the second stage finally sizzled shut, it had caused extensive damage to the self-repairing tiles below.

"How do you feel?" Magister Wen asked carefully as Gwen's astral body returned to its usual admixture of lightning, Void, and an occasional mote of fleeting emerald.

Both of her observers resumed their scribing.

Gwen checked her state of being. She felt fine. There was no feeling of Negative-Energy Drains anywhere on her body.

"Excellent! Very good," Magister Wen concluded after observing the spectrometics of her Astral projection. That was the thing with the Cognisance Chamber—there was no place to hide. For the lack of a better word, everything was in plain sight. "Wonderful, Gwen. Thanks to your incident, we've verified an answer for the self-consumption problem suffered by Void users."

Gwen shuddered to think what Wen could mean by that.

"I don't see any diminishment, though," Magister Wen tapped her chin. "Gwen, bring out your Familiars."

Gwen gave the command to her Lightning marten and Void serpent.

"Eeee! EEEE!"

"Shaa! Shaa!"

At the appearance of Caliban, the two men's expressions grew fantastic, with brows lifting to new heights and teeth tightly gnashed.

The Cognisance Chamber's mirror-like floors magnified the mana signatures of her creatures. Caliban was a roving mass of dense dark energy larger than its actual size in the Material Plane. Ariel, meanwhile, had a signature to match its diminutive size.

"How curious." Magister Wen walked around her Familiars, then beckoned Caliban closer for a better study. The two military were not nearly so keen.

Smugly, Wen produced a fist full of untreated HDMs, scattering the shards in front of her. Caliban snagged one with a tentacle, then munched away, slapping its tail against the floor as it did so. Ariel caught another with its little paws before nibbling at it, arcing electricity as the mana discharged.

Carefully, the Magister materialised a spell cube next to Gwen's Familiars. "Do you see the similarity?" she enquired of Gwen.

Gwen saw that beneath the unassuming-looking spell cube, there was a mass of glowing elemental fire in vivid orange. "Caliban is storing… Void mana?"

Wen nodded. "Something to investigate, for sure. There's so much we don't know. Your predecessor didn't exactly leave notes, and her husband was a very zealous protector."

Wen meant Elizabeth Sobel and Henry Kilroy. She wondered what Magister Wen knew. According to her Master, many in his confidence had known the truth, though now, they were either dead or held positions where such a thing was no longer of significant concern to them. Indeed, from what she recalled of Henry's tone, the upper echelon of the Mageocracy should have some clue as to the true nature of Elizabeth Sobel. Although the fact that for years she had been promoted as a war hero and one of the central figures in reclaiming a global front from demi-humans likely prevented widespread recognition of her current occupation as a terrorist.

Just in case, Gwen glanced at her two impassive observers. Neither of the men appeared to possess any misgivings about Wen's musing.

Magister Wen nodded. "Gentlemen, have you seen enough? Any more would violate our agreement."

Two sets of eyes fell upon Gwen. The PLA official appeared dissatisfied, but his protest was interrupted by his counterpart, who stowed his slate and inclined his head. "I will take my leave. Magister Wen. Miss Song. You shall have Pudong's support."

"Right," Major Wong grunted.

The trio watched the two men leave by the exit. Gwen wondered how they could find the door unerringly in the fantastical illusion of the chamber.

"That went pretty well, don't you think?" Magister Wen sounded happy.

"How?" Gwen's voice came across as a little more reproachful than she’d intended.

Petra came closer and touched Gwen's hand. Magister Wen waved her apprentice away. "Would you believe it if I told you that these men are not here for you? The drinking gentleman's heart is not for what's in the cup, so to speak."

"Ma'am?" Gwen did not understand the idiom.

Magister Wen chuckled. "They're here to ensure that each other did not unduly gain an advantage. The Pudong Tower and the PLA Tower are two sides of the same coin—rivals since China joined the coalition of nations. There's history there if you're interested. Petra can tell it to you sometime."

"So they're here to ensure we're not favouring one side over another?"

"Yes, dear," Magister Wen said. "I always ensure that both sides balance one another. They should contend with each other before they contend with you, don't you think?"

"I see, ma'am." Gwen considered the Magister's words.

"At any rate, this meeting wasn't supposed to happen for some time. I had originally scheduled it for the end of the year. If anything, your rapid progress is to blame."

"Ma'am?"

"You've attained a significant level of Spellcraft, Gwen. I know you're just seventeen, but you must consider the practical outcome of your growing talent. How could either Tower sit idle when you have progressed to a tier of destructive power capable of pacifying small population centres?"

Gwen felt her stomach lurch. Wiping out a town? Who did they think she was? Sobel?

"I know your concern. But if you wish to maintain a decorum of autonomy, Gwen," Magister Wen advised, "you must pay the cost of privacy."

"I'll be under observation?" Gwen asked.

"No, not as such." Magister Wen battered her hand dismissively. "No more than me, Petra, or any other Mage of significant note. We know that you're connected to Magus Shultz—the Lord Protector of Sydney had stated as such. We know you're similar to Elizabeth Sobel. Oh, don't look so surprised. After all, Kilroy's wife was one of the signature champions of the Coral Sea War and the most famous Void Mage of the latter century."

Sobel is also a significant example of how south things can go, Gwen muttered internally.

"Sufficient to say, stay away from factional politics. Once you choose a side, you will lose the protection you enjoy, unless you can find enough prestige and accord to stand on your own."

That would be Gunther's plans for the IIUC; Gwen acknowledged her Brother-in-craft's foresight. If the three of them stood together, and if their Master's old connections could lean in to put weight on the matter, it wasn't unreasonable for her to remain independent.

"Don't trouble your pretty head," Wen said. "Much of this is beyond what you can do personally. We're done for today, though. Klavdiya couldn't book the laboratory on such short notice. She will attend to you tomorrow around noon. Make sure you report to the hospital."

"Should I go home?" Gwen's thinking was still firmly stuck on the paranoia of a PLA panopticon.

Then again, she tried to convince herself, it wasn't as though “privacy” had been any more sacred in her old world. The government had had her tax records and medical records. Google and Facebook had her private likes and dislikes. A thousand and one companies had her address, phone, and emails logged to spam at their pleasure. Everything had been hidden behind gargantuan terms and conditions that no one, including herself, ever read.

"No. Relax, and have some fun. Go to a cafe or do whatever it is that young girls like yourselves go and do. Take Petra with you. Mao knows she needs a break too. You've had a long week, Gwen. Don't tire yourself out."

Magister Wen's advice was surprisingly lax, but the Magister was right. She needed to relax and rest her mind.

Magister Wen approached the exit, then paused by the door. "Have you changed your mind regarding our earlier discussion?"

"Ma'am?" Gwen enquired. Which discussion was that?

"About feeding your talents in a controlled environment. Death-penalty prisoners, demi-humans; lots of good there, remember? Now that we know how your consumption works, it would be a net positive outcome for all of us, not to mention society itself, no? Perhaps you have a preference? Rapists, murderers and slavers. I know you're squeamish, but give it some thought, all right? The choice is yours."

Every follicle of Gwen's hair stood on end.

"Shaa?" Caliban raised its head and looked toward her, feeling itself in its Master's horror.

"One more thing—no Spellcraft training," the Magister told her prized cow. "No duelling and excessive display of magic either. I want to see tomorrow's biometrics exactly as we've left it."

Chapter two

Rest and Relax

“In all the history of Fudan, you are the first," Petra told her cousin.

Gwen made a face, sipping miserably from her iced matcha latte.

Ariel was sitting on the table in its docile form. Gwen figured she would continue Instructor Chen's ongoing training, in which the students keep their Familiars manifested at all times. Below their table, the eight-foot body of Caliban in its obsidian serpent form coiled around Gwen’s ankles, wrapping a length of its torso against her heels as it shied from the summer sun.

Gwen had accepted that everywhere she went, the patrons would ogle at their pleasure. Maybe it was the local culture or mayhap, as a writer had once written, that a woman's beauty did not belong to herself alone. Either way, her mind was in too much turmoil to object to the uninvited gazes.

The two girls were waiting for Mina and Tao, who wanted to meet for a luncheon. The cafe they'd chosen was a new place renovated by the owner to resemble an extensive garden shed. Perennials, fed on a diet of quasi-magically enchanted water, bloomed heedless of the season, expending their vitality for a few precious months until finally, spent, they were replaced by blossoms of a different season. The shop was called The Language of Flowers and was located not far from University Boulevard in a rezoned district gentrified by sorcerers moving in from the suburbs. Its patrons were predominantly of the magical variety: young and old, acolytes and neophytes, joined by the occasional Magus. For students who had never left the CBD, they would have believed that Mages primarily occupied all human cities. Realistically, even in a district of 100,000 like D-35, no more than a hundred magic users and one Magus existed at best within each.

"First of what?" Gwen thought back to the two military men who'd parted less than amiably from each other, turning her attention back toward her cousin.

"The first Magus who has the spell list of an acolyte, ha-ha!" Petra chuckled, sipping her iced coffee.

An NoM waitress with bright eyes and a cute flower apron brought out shortcakes and petite fours. Petra dropped a few LDMs, telling the worshipful girl to keep the change.

"Well then, Magus Kuznetsova." Gwen leaned back in the elevated garden chair and stretched. "What do you suggest I should learn?"

"First, figure out what you're missing." Petra shrugged. "Maybe go adventuring or dungeoneering and get a feel for what spells you want to pick up."

"I have no time." Gwen tapped her fingers against the beading waters on the tall glass of her matcha latte. "I need to complete my theory classes first."

Somewhere in the back of her head, Magister Wen's latest proposal knocked against her chest like a drum. "Death-penalty prisoners, demi-humans; lots of good there…"

Nephres had said that Henry had started Elizabeth by feeding her prisoners as fodder. Was it true, then? Had her Master authorised such a thing? But then again, did they even share the same circumstance? Her Master and Elizabeth had been in the middle of the Coral Sea War. They’d been fighting to ensure the entire east coast colonies of Terra Australis survived. For them, life had been one war zone after another for almost a decade.

Yet, try as she might in rationalising Magister Wen's good intentions, her paranoia buzzed like the tinnitus susurration of a mosquito. That the idea possessed pros and cons frightened her with breathless horror. After all, what had the Affinity to all Schools of Magic cost Sobel?

Only her sanity.

Sensing itself in her thoughts, Caliban shifted from its resting position. Gwen felt the cold caress of her Void-creature's obsidian body against the warmth of her skin, simultaneously shuddering at the memory of Caliban's hunger.

Suppose she chose to subsequently “consume” all her enemies. What portion of her intent would lie in self-defence, what division would be given to ambition, and what share would be driven by the strange hunger that would surely awaken once her current store of vitality was spent? How steep was the slippery slope ahead? At what junction did the incline become free fall?

What makes a man if all he cares for is sleep and food? A beast! No more!

BEEP-BEEP!

A dark Audi sedan disrupted Gwen's internal philosophising. The door opened, the engine plinked, and two familiar faces emerged.

Tao “Peaches” Wang had a way of sauntering where the gait of his gangster strut made him appear mildly intoxicated at all times, wavering back and forth like he was ducking an invisible boxer.

"Yo! Mah bi-b… emm… eu… tiful ladies." Tao was instantly the ire of every patron in the cafe. "Gwen, you looking sweet-as."

"Eeeee!" Ariel greeted the newcomers.

"Wassap, mah cat-snake brother!" Tao fist-bumped Ariel's paws, bringing a broad smile to Gwen's lips. Lacking Elvia's divine presence, it took someone like Tao to divest herself from the ethical dilemmas that plagued her path every inch of the way.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban hissed its greeting from under the table.

"Sup, big dick Caliban!"

One of the patrons began a coughing fit. Another spilt her tea.

"Peaches, stop it." Gwen was already beside herself. There was nothing like Peaches to offset depression.

"Petra! Yo yo." Tao turned his attention toward Petra.

Petra's husky blue eyes were two orbs of pale crystal. "Hello."

"Good afternoon, Peaches. How are you?” Gwen waved.

"I am doing well," Tao replied solemnly, his fingers forming a gang sign.

"Pats! Gwen!" Mina bypassed Tao's stooping figure and embraced her cousins. "I hope you're feeling better, Gwen."

Tao sat, both legs splayed like a spatchcock. As per his unique style, his choice of all-weather Adidas, paired with a broad-billed baseball cap, cared little for Shanghai's latest trends.

"I heard from Babulya that you had a tough time at the districts," Mina began, her oval eyes glimmering with sympathy. "I am here if you want to talk about it."

"Aww, thanks, Mina. I appreciate that."

"Me too, dawg." Tao nodded. "If you want my advice, you should write a song about it and mix it up with sick beats. That way, you can expel yo demons, dawg. BOOM! Then you feel released like yo just laid a huge log, ya know?"

"Thanks, Peaches, I'll take your advice into careful consideration," Gwen said kindly, fighting the laughter arresting her chest. She couldn't dispel the vision of this log that Tao had driven into the recess of her mind.

"Don't think about it," Mina said, glancing at Petra's pained expression. "Instead, think about spell incantations. I find that reciting my healing mantras helps immensely. I don't know how he comes up with this stuff. Maybe he's a genius."

"Lyrical gee!" Tao worked himself again. "Dis bad boy's moonlighting at the Shan tonight. Gwen, Pats, treat yo-self and check out the boys and me down at the club making sweet noise."

"He means he and his friends are performing at the Waldorf Astoria Shanghai—basement B2," Mina translated. She looked as though she wanted to add something, but refrained from doing so. "I'd say it's the usual crudeness, but the Waldorf Astoria is a very nice hotel. We can stop by before or after and have drinks. They're famous for their cocktails."

"Mimi, you gotta stop stepping on mah log, bitch. Don't put the B-boyz and me down in front 'o kuz. That's not cool."

"Nobody calls me that, Peaches." Mina rolled her eyes expertly, evidently having had plenty of practice. "Besides, you're upsetting Petra. Stop talking."

Petra appeared thoroughly troubled by Tao's increasingly disturbing premise.

"Here's yo tickets, Gwen." Tao produced two golden slips, one for Gwen and the other for Petra. "VIP, backstage access, front row, whatever you need."

"Wow, you are putting on a show." Gwen took the tickets and passed one over to Petra, who took it dubiously. "There's going to be an audience other than us, right?"

"AHAHAHAHA, you funny!" Tao laughed nervously, providing a hasty addendum. "We got a fan club, bitches galore."

Both Petra and Gwen turned to Mina, who took on a troubled expression.

Bitches, huh? Gwen considered Tao's declaration. She supposed that the heir of Wang Xin Enterprise would naturally possess a fan club—the Gold Digger's Club.

"He's not lying," Mina said. "Don't look at me. I don't know how it's possible either."

Gwen regarded the ticket in her hand. “Battle of Rhymes”, the tagline said. “The Waldorf Astoria Shanghai, B-2”.

She wanted—no—she needed to blow off some stress: alcoholic refreshments, music, and good friends in a high-class hotel sounded like just the ticket.

"I'll go," Gwen said with as much fatalism as Lulan confessing her misdeeds at D-109. A hip-hop party? Sure. She had been a club regular in her old world. "Petra, do you have the time to escort me? I could go by myself if you're busy."

"I'll go," Petra said. "Magister Wen would not want you to get into more trouble. Tao, if one of your fans decides to get handsy, it's your funeral."

Mina shrugged. "I'll pick you guys up and take you home if you're coming," she said. "Peaches will pay all incurred costs, including unlimited drinks."

"Of course. Aww yeah!" Tao pumped a fist in victory.

Tao and Mina's drinks arrived: a spritzer for the sister and a beer for the Illusionist rapper. The trio talked, with Gwen stating that she'd save her adventure at D-109 for when they could speak in less public space with less commotion and more intimacy.

"Great idea," Mina said. "The Astoria once had the longest bar in the world. It's a relic from the old colonial days. You're going to love the cocktails."

Gwen pointed her finger at herself. "I am not eighteen yet." Saying that about herself made her incredibly self-conscious.

Mina chuckled. "We know the management, don't worry."

"Okay, you are the boss. Hoss!" Tao happily meandered off to pay the bill. "See you guys at the show."

Mina made sure that Tao was out of sight before she apologised. "He's getting better, believe it or not. He's been much more confident since Hengsha Island. Thanks, Gwen."

"I feel deeply suspicious." Gwen observed Mina's halting speech and guilty expression. "What's at this show? Why does he want me and Petra to attend so desperately?"

"Let's talk while we shop." Mina slid off the barstool. "If he truly upsets you, don't hesitate to give him a good beating. He'll be sore for a while, but whatever your choice, it won't leave a scar."

"Coming, Pats?" Gwen asked her cousin, who she knew did not have an interest in retail therapy.

"Sure, let's relax for the rest of the day." Petra stepped from the stool. "I suspect I shall need many drinks before the night's over."

The rationale why Gwen and Petra had to attend the gig, as Mina explained over a selection of party dresses at K-11, was that Tao had made a careless bet.

"Again?" Gwen spluttered.

"What is it this time?" Petra scowled.

"Please don't get upset," Mina said. "Peaches boasted to his circle of friends that he played a pivotal role at Hengsha, saving the two of you."

"That seems reasonable." Tao had made a good contribution to their hunting down of the Elder Gila. "I can accept that."

"Yeah," Mina said when Gwen had finished. "Naturally, he told them that the two of you are his… close acquaintances."

"We're family. I am cool with that too." Gwen held up a mini-dress and pressed it against her waist. The colour was beautiful, but the cut did not conform to her figure.

"Not his exact words, I take it," Petra added coldly, feeling the fabric of a sheer blouse between her fingers before letting it fall.

"No, not exactly."

"What did he call us? His whores?" Petra was relentless, cutting through the evasive euphemism with the keen edge of a crystalline shard.

Mina was visibly cringing.

"HE DID NOT!" Gwen was stunned by Tao's looseness, thinking of the ubiquitously annoying hip-hop clichés from her old world. "Really? We're related."

"I don't think he intended it to mean anything," Mina said before Gwen's opinion of Tao soured entirely. "More like, you know, helpers."

"We're his shorties?" Gwen jeered.

"We're his bishes." Petra's frigid tone rivalled Kitty's arcane ice.

Mina sighed. "Look, he means well."

"How exactly?" Gwen demanded as the trio left the shop and entered another.

"We all know Peaches," Mina said. "Or not. I guess you guys don't. But you know he doesn't mean half the things he says. They just come out of his mouth like an illness. Like his 'ill' rhymes."

"Tourette's Syndrome," Gwen suggested helpfully.

"I don't know what that is, but sure," Mina said.

"It's a neurological disorder where people fail to suppress unwanted premonitory urges," Gwen clarified. "Though saying the word 'bitch’ every other sentence is hardly a part of the spectrum."

"Is this disease recorded in a book?" Petra's attention perked up at her Gwenism.

"I heard it from someone in Australia once," Gwen lied. "There was a guy called Gilles de la Tourette, who had severe muscular and verbal tics that he couldn't help. He's dead now. His tic got him while chanting a spell, and he blew up."

"Oh." Petra seemed disappointed.

"I get what you're saying. I suppose it's Peaches being Peaches. So what happened?" Gwen continued.

"Some of his 'friends' doubted that this whole ordeal about Hengsha is real," Mina spoke with exasperation. "To be honest, I still can't believe we were first in the Dungeon competition. Anyway, Peaches got riled up, a fight ensued, he got his ass handed to him, and now they have a bet."

"Who and what is this bet about?"

"Well, if Peaches can prove you're his… er… helpers," Mina replied, "then he gets a favour from Sammy Gu and Sammy's limited-edition Ether-Engine Roadster."

"If he loses?"

"He has to give up the Battle of Rhymes by singing about himself being a filthy liar, and Sammy gets to keep Tao's car."

"Tao has a car?" Petra raised a sceptical eyebrow. Gwen also didn't know Tao could drive.

Mina pointed a finger toward her chest helplessly. "I have a car. It's 'our' car," she moped.

Gwen felt her sympathy pour forth like spilt soup. "Look, I'll help out," she declared sweetly. "To save your car, if nothing else. Petra, what do you say? We have to show up. He's not expecting us to do anything else, I hope."

"I'll break both his legs," Petra stated matter-of-factly. "Uncle Wang would probably thank us."

"Please do," Mina muttered.

"There, there." Gwen patted Mina, drawing her into her arms. "You poor little thing."

"I am older than you." Mina reddened, pushing Gwen away.

"I am bigger than you." Gwen grinned, towering over Mina in more ways than one. Mina was a year Tao's junior and the second oldest of Team Cousins. It was her ageless appearance that was misleading. Where Petra could easily be mistaken for her mid-twenties, Mina could be mistaken for a junior high schooler.

"Hmmph!" Mina turned her head, pouting.

"Well, let's pick something out, then," Gwen announced to the girls. "Party frock or something more subtle?"

Petra checked the price tag and then furrowed her brows. I wonder what would happen if Petra attended in her yoga pants, Gwen mused to herself. Certainly, who could complain?

"Pick whatever you want," their wealthy cousin said, making the offer with a mischievous smile touching her lips. "After all, Tao's paying."

The girls arrived back at Fudan B-1 just after four pm, where they could change into their newly acquired outfits for the evening. Gwen watched Mina longingly gaze at her Audi as they parcelled out the contents of their shopping, amused by the sudden sentimentality Mina felt for her sedan.

It was a stupid bet, not even Gwen could deny that. One that could only occur among adults whose IQ was disproportionately lower than their financial thresholds. There was such a word for it in Shanghai—the Fu-er-dai, or the progeny of the mega-wealthy. It was just as well that Tao's vice was his passion for music, not something nefarious.

As for Tao's family, Gwen knew well that keeping the siblings in her good graces would benefit her one day. After all, the patriarch was a self-made man. At fifty, he had established himself with the necessary connections and favours to leave the CCP administration and open his own resource extraction company, Wang Xing Enterprises. Under the Wang title, WX Capital extracted crystals from contracted Green and Orange Zones. WX Construction was a state-owned co-op company that built infrastructural projects for the state. Finally, WX Energy was a cooperative partnered with the Towers, serving the explicit purpose of searching for new resources.

Though Mina dismissed her father's exploits, Gwen understood that Bao Wang had succeeded in the rare Communist climate despite the odds. How was it that such a man had married Nen, Mina’s air-headed mother? Gwen was beyond curious.

According to Mina, Bao had met Nen Song, Gwen's aunty, at a charity gala. The unwary Nen had helped Bao with a spilt drink, kept him company, and then bade him goodbye. Even when Bao had arranged for repeatedly fortuitous meetings, she had recognised him as the poor man with the ruined shirt.

"You don't care who I am or what I do?" he had asked her on their third date.

"Why does it matter?" Nen had replied earnestly. "You're just Bao."

Bao Wang had been sold.

"I can't believe he doesn't have a mistress," Mina had remarked once, to which Gwen had responded by choking on her char-siu bun. "In Shanghai, among the rich, they say three's company, two is none. All my friends’ fathers, and sometimes their mothers, have a 'side dish'."

In his perfect middle life, it seemed the one regret that the Wangs possessed was Tao's desire to be a musician.

"I use the word 'musician' lightly," Mina gibed when Gwen asked what Tao would be performing in the evening. "That tongue-flapping western thing they do… I don't know."

Gwen didn't mind at all that Tao wanted to be a rapper. The phenomenon had changed the very landscape of music in her old world. She pledged that, given a chance, she would watch some of those banned American vid-casts and offer Tao some advice, plagiarised from the USA of her past.

The two-bedroom apartment was too small for the three girls to get ready at once, so they took turns between the two bedrooms and the one bathroom, conversing loudly with one another through open doorways.

Gwen's selection was a matt navy mini-dress with a plunging V-neck. Light and airy, the form-fitted fabric was enchanted to expand and contract, allowing the lining to stretch without hampering the wearer's movements.

Petra, who had a military upbringing and had a distinctly Eastern European perception of modesty, emerged in a denim skirt and black t-shirt, her face made up with naught but lip-gloss and the barest of eyeliners.

"Oh. My. MAO!" Mina's tone was equal parts jealousy, worship and awe.

Unlike Gwen, whose limbs were supple and refined, Petra was the definition of vivacity, like a ballet prima donna. Observing her cousin, Gwen grew increasingly smitten until her inevitable meeting with Petra's crystal-blue eyes. There was very good reason Petra had been hand-picked by the Moscow Tower to be their femme fatale. In her mind, Petra could have been a modern-day Lucrezia Borgia.

Her cousin was not amused by the attention. Instead, the girl redirected Gwen's gaze to Mina, whose defeated choice encompassed a loose varsity shirt that emphasised her bust, paired with shorts and dark knee-socks to create a very Asian appeal.

"Where's Richard?" Mina released the question she must have kept on her tongue all day, her face blushing adorably. "Is he next door?"

"Richard's away on errands," Gwen informed her. "He'd be over otherwise, even if it's just to check on us."

"Ah, all right." Mina appeared disappointed by the news. "Next time."

According to her schedule, Tao's so-called Battle of Rhymes was slated to begin around eight pm. The girls could get there around seven and load up on some drinks before they were subjected to Tao's music.

"You sure we're not going to be harassed?" Gwen tugged on her dress, bringing the hem a little lower. "I shouldn't expend any magic."

"Peaches' friends will be there," Mina assured them. "Dad is well known at the Metropolitan as well. If you're worried, I'll have a word with the management. The backers for the hotel are not the sort of people the average Guan-er-dai or Fu-er-dai can contend with."

"All right." Gwen nodded sceptically, uneasy at the prospect of yet another asshole whose frontal lobe became checkmated by an erection.

When she had spoken about her many terrible experiences with Petra, her cousin had been sceptical.

"I've been harassed now and then, but never like what you've gone through," Petra raised both brows. "Trust me. I've had enough training to know that you're not the type to drive men crazy. The occasional pervert I could believe, but all the time? Maybe you're just unlucky."

"It keeps happening!" Gwen had tried to rationalise the phenomenon. "The NoM on the train I could somewhat understand. But Richard's juniors at my uncle's were just gross, especially after I met them again, and they were perfectly fine. There's Dai, who lost his head, and those Mages in the dungeon. I mean, you were there too. Did anyone try to have a go at you?"

"Have a go?" Petra had snorted with derisive laughter.

"Ergh, you know." Gwen grabbed at the air with her hands.

"I don't understand," Petra smirked. "Have a go at what?"

"Never mind," Gwen had changed the subject.

For some reason, her mind always wandered toward the lumen pics of Elizabeth Sobel. It was impossible not to think of her Master's wife when her reflection in the mirror was pale and loitering.

Sobel had an allure about her—a kind of hunger that was infectious. She was beautiful but compared to Petra or even Alesia, she was only slightly above average. What the woman possessed instead, was an incredible presence, a kind of attraction and allure that was difficult to frame with words. A pang of hunger and madness, perhaps.

Feeling akin to standing at a perilous precipice and having a sudden urge to leap, Gwen blew a lungful of air through her lips. She looked at the clock; it was almost six-thirty. They had better—

BEEEP-AAAA-eeeeee-KERRRRRR From the table, the LRC device blared its unholy chorus.

Gwen bolted for the projector. Despite the cruel heels strapped to her thin ankles, her movements were akin to a female leopard protecting its cubs.

The call was from Gunther, not Evee. "Do you want us to clear out?" Petra enquired as the call connected.

Gwen considered that. She could bring Mina into her circle of confidence, but sometimes the truth wasn't worth the trouble. Mina's life was happily naive and carefree. There was no need to rope the healer onto her Raft of the Medusa.

She nodded.

"We'll wait for you by the lift," Petra informed her. "Come on, Mina. You don't want to hear this."

Mina followed Petra out the door. Gwen turned to the device as the illusory projection manifested.

"Gwen!" Instead of Gunther, Alesia's worried face appeared. "You said there's something dire and urgent? I got Gunther here with me, and… WHOOOOAAA, NICE! What are you wearing? Are you going out?"

Her desired tale of misfortune grew dubious in Gwen's mind. After all, how dangerous could her circumstances be if she was in a party dress and stiletto heels?

"The dress is for another matter. I've got something important to inform Gunther and yourself," Gwen said seriously.

"Oh, you look lovely!" Alesia gushed, her blue eyes twinkling. "What did you do to your complexion? What product are you using? Is it an Enchantment? Some fruit from the Wildlands? What sort? How much for a dozen?"

"Alesia…"

"Goodness, I can't get enough of my little sister. Such a beautiful child. How come you never dressed like that around us in Sydney? Bachelors would be beating down the door if—"

"Alesia!" Gwen waved hard enough to take flight with invisible wings. "Listen, my news is important."

"All right, Alex, come on, let Gwen speak." Gunther's voice could be heard beside Alesia.

"Fine, fine," Alesia relented, grumbling.

Gunther's face came into view. "I see you're doing well in Shanghai." He chuckled. "Boyfriend?"

"Not you too, Gunther." Gwen cringed. "Look, I got something to tell you. It happened. I ate a lady the other day and stole her talents."

"You did what?" Alesia pushed Gunther away from the cube's projection. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. "Like, with a fork?"

"Like in Blackheath, I mean," Gwen said. "I had Caliban take her in one gulp, though I am pretty sure that like before, you know… the brain, the heart and the offal."

"Was she alive?"

"And kicking." Gwen's hollow tone echoed her devastated conscience.

"Did she deserve it?" Alesia was naturally unperturbed. "It's fine if they deserved it."

"That's why I am calling," Gwen began. "It's about Elizabeth Sobel…"

Chapter three

Of Peaches and Men

“It's almost seven." Mina bit her lower lip, irritated by the delay.

"You can go first." Petra shrugged. Before Gwen had brought the party together, she had spoken to her second cousin no more than a few minutes per Chinese New Year.

"I'd rather not. The two of you wouldn't make it in time," Mina replied, anxious with agitation. "Tao's performance starts at eight. It'll be pointless if we arrive and he's already given up the match."

"Gwen is on an important call, be patient." Petra regarded Mina. It wasn't that she was looking down on Gwen's paternal cousin, though that was certainly true due to their height difference. She felt the wallflower wasn't on the same plane as Gwen and herself.

Since the island, Petra had Gwen's companionship because they were alike in many ways. They both came from difficult familial circumstances. They both had dealings that tied them to Towers. They both had coveted magical abilities. They both had futures filled with conflict and uncertainty.

Their parallel paths made them perfect comrades.

But Mina and Tao? Two greenhouse Fu-er-dai in a tier I city, not knowing wind, rain, hunger or pain. Their greatest trial would be who to marry and how many kids they should have; their violent reckoning was whether or not keeping a lover was a plausible balance between wanton desire and etiquette.

Mina stamped her feet, striding up and down the corridor. "These damn shoes are killing me," she hissed, clearly displeased with her luxury.

Petra shook her head imperceptibly. Even if Tao were to lose his bet, it was nothing she would consider worthy of her sympathy. The bruised ego of an Illusionist nobody, and the loss of a car. Who cared about a car—a quasi-magical device made for NoMs and Mages alike? In the future, Gwen and she would be free to use Flight as they pleased. On that note, Petra wondered if Gwen could fathom the value of the Regeneration Cube she had expended on Lulan. At the right moment, in the right hands, the spell in that cube could secure a whole demesne.

Human life, after all, was priceless. The higher the power one amassed, the more wealth one accumulated, and the more value one placed on life.

DING!

The levitation platform slid open, revealing a sprinter's figure in shorts and a tank top.

"Miss Kuznetsova!" Lulan's eyes swept over Petra as if dumbfounded by her revealing attire. "H-hello."

Speak of the devil. Petra hailed the Sword Mage amiably. Compared to Mina, Lulan was more on her level. "Hello, Miss Li. What's the matter?"

Lulan held several takeout boxes in her hand. "I brought some sweets for Miss Song." She tore her eyes away from Petra to greet Mina. "Greetings, Miss…?"

"Mina. Mina Wang. I am Gwen's cousin."

Lulan bowed hastily.

Petra's lips curled sardonically despite herself. Ten Mina Wangs would not be able to resist a single full-forced blow from Lulan Li.

"Gwen, Petra and I are all going out together," Mina stated, her tone possibly more churlish than she intended. "She's on a call right now."

"I'll wait." Lulan stowed the takeout boxes in her ring.

Mina's well-honed eyes of appraisal narrowed. "Nice. A large storage ring?"

"Yeah," Lulan said. "Where are you all going?"

"To the Astoria for the Battle of Rhymes." Mina's tone took on a less critical demeanour. Petra was sure she knew a girl with a rare ring couldn't just be anybody. "My brother's competing."

"Oh, a duel! I do love those. My brother and I often compete," Lulan boasted a little sheepishly, perhaps thinking of their loss to Gwen. "What's the Waldorf Astoria?"

Mina laughed. "It's a hotel, one of the oldest in Shanghai. It was built in the twenties in the International Quarter by British expatriate Mages who wanted it to be the grandest establishment in the Pearl of the Orient."

"Oh? That sounds amazing." Lulan's expression suggested that Mina's words were as cryptic to her as ancient sorcery.

"Why don't you come with us?" Petra cut in. She was bored with Mina's antics already. Perhaps Lulan could liven things up. "Gwen would love it if you could come."

"To the duel?" Lulan's eyes lit up, clearly misunderstanding the word.

Mina caught Petra's attention, then blinked rapidly.

"Something like that." Petra smiled cruelly. "Mina, you don't mind, do you? Lulu is our new friend. She's a brilliant Sword Mage and an important asset for Gwen."

"You're a clanner?" Mina's brows furrowed.

"Not anymore." Lulan shook her head stiffly. Compared to before, the girl appeared lucid and self-conscious. Petro understood the feeling well. A step into the unknown world was full of anxiety for a girl who had just lost all her familial connections. When she had left the Tower, she’d felt the same thing.

"It's complicated," Lulan replied uncertainly.

Thankfully, the group's awkwardness was short-lived.

"Lulu!" Gwen's voice called out as the door to 2204 clicked shut behind her.

Their Message devices currently measured seven-twenty pm. They could make it if Mina dodged and weaved through traffic.

"Let's go." Mina had no more time to debate the merits of including a fourth member. Together, the crew descended into the garage. "Come on, Lulu."

"It's Lulan."

"Whatever. Get in, Clanner. We're going clubbing!"

Shanghai

On the Second Orbital Ring, Mina's sedan cruised through the traffic, catching the splendiferous reflections from the neon illusory billboards.

Saddled in the backseat between her saviour and Magus Kutznetsova, Lulan felt her chest grow hot. Foremost in her mind was the fact that the sorceresses she had battled previously wore not battle garbs but something far more intimidating. Gwen was a Battle Mage, a summoner of friends, a flying avatar of lightning and thunder, sowing death amongst her enemies.

But a party dress? Lulan felt as though she was seeing her saviour for the first time. What was she wearing? Her footwear offered no protection. Those heels looked like chopsticks. Her thighs were dangerously exposed! Lulan's mind flared with confusion, simultaneously scandalised and over-stimulated.

Compared to the car full of perfume, Lulan had never been told to be feminine. The most daring thing she’d ever done involved a makeup kit she'd discovered in one of the servant's quarters. When Lulan had examined the result of her curious labour in the mirror, she’d quickly reached for a towel and wiped away any evidence of her experimentation.

"I am so glad you're coming with us," her saviour gushed.

“No-no-no!” Lulan said. How could she stand beside one so generous? By the Iron Sword! The very thought of it terrified her. It was incredible that Gwen and her cousins would witness a Mage duel in those shoes and that dress. What happened when a melee ensued? What if one of them received an elemental attack that penetrated their barriers? Lovely as their mundane clothes were, they were as flimsy as they were beautiful. Also, her wardrobe consisted entirely of exercise clothing, which was why Gwen had lent her magical clothing that refitted itself.

As dusk fell, the sleek Audi roared like a magical beast, punching its way through the traffic on a mission to save itself.

South of the Bund, bombastic beats reverberated through the basement of the Astoria.

"Yo-yo-YO, gonna give it up, son?" Sammy Gu, Big SAM, wordsmith extraordinaire, mercilessly mocked his rival, Big Peaches, AKA Peaches, AKA Tao Wang of Wang Xing Enterprise.

"Fuck you, I ain't no liar!" Tao retorted. "How about you pop some wicked rhymes and we battle it out like real men, huh? You wanna be the king or you gonna pussy out?"

"That's a bet you're trying ta worm out of, fool, don't play me with your third-grade bull, little man!"

"Peaches don't need no bitches to beat your ass down to a pulp. Your rhymes are so lame, ya choke on yer lyrical vomit, buta!"

"Ooooh!"

"Kick his ass!"

"Nice one, Peaches!"

The room was dim, hazy and filled with moving bodies. The air was rank with tobacco, body odour and a hint of forbidden medicinal herbs.

It was also a riotously loud.

He had wanted to show off, to prove is worth. However, things were not going as well as he had hoped. Thus far, Tao had been talking crap for almost ten minutes straight. Their match had begun nearly half an hour ago, but Sammy Gu had refused to participate due to Tao's poorly contested gamble.

Unless Tao could prove Petra Kutznetsova, the "Flower of Fudan", and Gwen Song, the "Mongolian Death Worm Handler", were his hardcore fans, Tao had to apologise and confess to his clowning.

"Come on, come on!" Tao was sweating buckets underneath his mocking demeanour. Where the fuck is Mina? She promised to bring the girls!

"Such a little bitch, Peaches." Sammy shifted his weight impressively. "I think you're lying about them cuz yo face is as ugly as Miss Petra's ass is FINE."

"Woop! Woop!"

"Yoga pants!"

"Sammy, you suck!" The crowd's boredom was growing palpable.

"TICK-TOCK, mother fucker! I have no idea how a fine thing like yo mama gave birth to a stain like you, Peaches. You so ugly, you went to the Northern Front and they mistook you for a ghoul!"

Tao's head grew hot. His brain felt as though two llamas were taking turns mounting each other inside his skull. His usual mastery over the lyrical had become a hodgepodge of stir-fried syllables. He could undoubtedly fire off a few more mudgrass horse insults, but those were the lowest common denominator. Looking at Fat Sammy there, his rival could probably KO him just by sitting on his chest.

"Peaches, what's the plan, man?" Mack-Daddy was balls out and still sweating profusely. "Is Miss Kutznetsova and Gwen going to come? If not…"

"You gotta have faith, man," Little-Dog insisted. "I believe in Peaches, who believes in Miss Song."

Tao felt unsteady, his knees weak and wobbly, wondering if he should vomit forth his mum's chashui-mien already. Come on, Mina! His perspiring eyes scanned the lift.

Then he saw the green light. The lift was moving. MAO's BALLS, it was opening!

"You look wonderful, Lulu," Gwen assured the Sword Mage.

"Lovely," Petra said. After a short pause, she added, "Don't let your brother see you in that if he's as tight as you say."

Gwen observed her handiwork. Lulan had been reborn. The Sword Mage was a pretty thing, but even the best gems needed polishing and cutting to bring out their lustre and shine. From the girl's eyes in the car mirror, Gwen could see that a new world was opening up for Lulan, one that would drive Kusu up the wall shortly. She had snuggled into a dress Gwen had lent her—a simple sundress that suited her clean-cut, athletic figure. Like all high-Affinity Earthen Mages, Lulan possessed a hard and lean musculature, with abs hard enough to shatter stone slabs.

With a whine, Mina's Audi pulled up in front of the Waldorf Astoria Shanghai parking bay. Several bell boys immediately approached the car, headed by a well-dressed concierge.

"Miss Wang," the concierge said to Mina with a bow as she escaped the driver's seat. "What may be your pleasure today?"

"We're late," Mina said to the handsome young man dressed impeccably in his vermillion vest. "Take my guests down to basement two."

"Where young Master Wang is hosting his friends? Of course, ma'am, right this way."

Lulan stumbled from the back seat, helped by Gwen and aided by a bellboy, struggling to balance on her wedged shoes.

When Gwen emerged, the staff's eyes lit up. Then Petra emerged and a respectful silence descended upon the parking rotunda.

"Come on!" Mina urged them, looking at the minute hand ticking toward its inevitable destination. "I've half a mind to have the two of you Dimension Door down there."

The girls made their way across the lobby, guided by the fleet steps of the concierge and drawing eyes from across the room. The grand foyer of the Waldorf Astoria was four storeys tall and lit by Daylight spells playing beautifully through a panoramic array of French window skylights. At the elevation platform bay, Greco-Roman statues in white marble added a touch of the classics to the otherwise Art-deco facade.

Ding-dong!

The lift was a brass and glass contraption that moved without sound. It was a relic of bygone days when master craftsmen built the elevation platforms, not prefabricated spell glyphs installed by technicians.

"Level B2," the concierge told the operator, who bowed, then returned to the stoic labour of cranking archaic ivory-handled shafts.

Gwen could hear the thumping of bone-throbbing bass as soon as the lift penetrated the wards. When the brass-wrought retro doors finally opened, Gwen and the girls found themselves amid a haze of dubious smoke.

"YOU'RE HERE!" Tao's voice could be heard projecting across the room via an empowered Ventriloquism. By his tone, Mina's brother sounded as though he had finally found Godot. "FUCK YEAH, MAH HONEYS HAVE ARRIVED! PEACHES IN DA HOUSE! HE AIN'T NO LIAR! BRINGING IT DOWN! SUCK IT, SAMMY G!"

The thumping bass reached a new high as a path opened between the stage and the girls. Gwen's eyes scanned the crowd, noting the entire show was a product of Tao and his gang utilising Illusionary magic.

BOOM-BOOM, chick. BOOM-chick. BOOM-BOOM…

Once her curiosity in Spellcraft was satiated, she craned her neck to inspect Tao's audience. As her hazel eyes took in the scene, her lips fell half open with growing dread.

Beside her, Lulan appeared to have entered a whole other realm of shock. The music! The thumping! The beat! Gwen brought the country girl forward with a steady hand. She felt the heat on Lulan’s skin. The girl’s blood was boiling!

"Mao," Lulan shouted in Gwen’s ear, "THIS IS AMAZING. I feel a melee is going to break out at any moment. Do you think there's a prize for the most Mages disabled? But why are there NoMs here? How are they going to defend themselves?"

BOOM-BOOM, chick

BOOM-chick. BOOM-BOOM…

Gwen, however, was noting something else entirely. There was a big crowd, sure. But where are the women? Were they the only women there?

"Mina…" Gwen reached out and shook her cousin by the shoulders. "It's a sausage party, Mina! Do you hear me? A sausage party! What have you taken us to?" Her trembling voice was choked out between gritted teeth.

Mina's watering eyes struggled against the smoke, which, unfortunately, was as much atmospheric Illusion as second-hand cigarette smoke, with a tasteful hint of Chinese herbal medicine.

"Peaches," her cousin's face twisted with malice, "I am going to kill you."

The beats grew quiet, starting with the peanut gallery closest to the levitation platform. One by one, their voices choked as the foursome of girls emerged.

First, a lovely but flabbergasted girl exited the lift with a stupefied expression. Then a short Asian girl with adorability dialled to ten, which many of the crowd recognised as Tao's famous sister.

Then…

Then the observers' heads went white with noise.

Slowly, the crowd parted like the Red Sea before a proverbial Magi.

Tao's boastful voice reverberated through the basement, adding to the ambient noise. Sammy Gu's face dropped, looking like he had been forced-fed spoilt sushi.

Gwen took Lulan by her hand and moved up the aisle. She’d wanted a flashy entry, but Petra had forbidden all magic. Their Sword Mage followed like a puppy, stopping at the stage's edge.

Beside her, the Flower of Fudan moved through the open lane like empresses surveying their domain, stepping over paper cups and smoking butt-ends. Those from Fudan who knew her reverently muttered her name, informing the others. Those whose knowledge had been lacking now branded the moniker upon their brain.

The spotlight moved from the stage centre and landed where the group stood, bathing them in white illumination.

The sound of breath being drawn echoed across the room.

Amazingly, Petra motioned for the vox phone. Obediently, the adjudicator MC handed her the ventrilo device.

"We're here," The Flower of Fudan stated flatly, her voice ringing across the basement. "Now battle. It's getting late."

Gwen figured she might as well play the part. Peaches' punishment would come later, but there was no need to embarrass him now. "You can do it, Peaches! We support you!" She made her best impression of a fangirl. Her voice echoed across the basement, punctuated only by the soft thump of bass generated by modifying Illusory Sound incantations. "Come on, Lulu. You do it too."

"Why is his name a fruit?" Lulan's face was aflame with shame and unspeakable embarrassment. "Is he going to battle now? Is this part of a ritual? Is someone being sacrificed?"

"Woooo!" Gwen's reply was lonesome and desolate. "We love you, Peaches! Come on, Pats!"

"I don't understand," Lulan continued, confused as ever. "Are they fighting? How? Their mana signature is less than novices. In Huashan, such individuals could only assume the role of menial labourers."

"Go on." Petra's voice was like ice dropping onto cold marble. "Get on with it. We're here to support you."

Finally, in triumph, Tao turned to Sammy, his rival, his face flushed with excitement. "Time to get it ON! BITCH!"

Tao launched into a bombastic beat-box rhythm to set the tempo of his Project IMage. His lips unleashed a torrent of cognitively dissociative bitten syllables clashing with deliberately mispronounced homophones. Mack-Daddy and Little-Dog soon joined in, dimming the lights and providing vocal backing.

"When the Firestorm clears, it won't be

So fuck'n difficult to hear,

'til then hopefully ya

Little gobos get over your fears

It's OK to be spooked, bitch.

The Magister said I'd trigger ears

My Illusions, ya see, they bring tears,
my whole career's

A stroke of tactical genius, Illusory magic,
pimp sorcery, year after year…"

Tao was good, Gwen had to admit. The Illusionist was riling the crowd up, distracting them from Petra long enough to start bobbing their heads and moving, itself an impressive feat.

Maybe, if she could recall some of the classics from her old world, she could push Tao in the right direction. If he could master higher-tier Illusions or parallel casting, he could combine his “show” with visual and audio spectacles, like Light Balancing or clones of himself breakdancing.

Being the victim of Tao's verbose spit spray, Sammy's jowls quivered.

To Gwen, Sammy’s expression looked as bad as his half-formed innuendoes. Each time he tried to fathom a connecting rhyme, the boy stared at Petra. When Sammy attempted to shift his eyes away, his ocular muscles revolted, telling him to keep staring. Even as he pinched his arms black and blue, all the man could do was shift his gaze to Gwen, then back.

Gwen felt her skin crawl. The man looked sick. From the way he gawked at them, he might as well be a starving wolf about to lose all reason, much less the cerebral means to form rhymes.

"I am sorry!" Tao said to the girls with a deep bow.

"Don't be. It was fun." Gwen laughed with genuine affection. "It was interesting to see you beat down that Sammy guy."

"Still, I had no idea that dawg was such a pervert," Tao confessed miserably. "I mean, Sammy's wanton, dude, but Mao, that was something else, even for him! Who'd thought he'd unbuckle and flash Petra the goods."

"Aha." Gwen had no idea what she should think about that incident.

Petra's expression was petrifying.

Following Tao's one-sided thrashing of his stunned “rival”, Sammy lost it. Maybe the idea that Petra and Gwen were Tao's fans had been too much for the prideful gangster, but the dazed bloke's low-riding pants had fallen to the floor, while he stumbled forwards.

Petra had immediately erected a crystalline wall that had caught the large man mid-stride, catching his crotch, crushing the poor sod's mouse between a crystalline block and a hard place.

Though hastily resolved, the incident had quickly turned into a riot of jeers and insults. Despite Gwen's best efforts to dissuade Petra, her self-proclaimed bodyguard had removed the girls from the scene.

Soon after, the party retired to the famous Bar Astoria.

"So they battle with words only? Like a debate?" Lulan was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that several hundred individuals got together in a dark basement, set up a stage, squared off, and then walked away after half an hour of shit-talking. "No spells? Could Even NoMs participate? Wasn't that man challenging us? I was going to use a Sword Wall."

Gwen winced. Tao crossed his legs.

"Stupid Peaches." Mina continued to lament that a family friend turned out to be such a pervert. She’d promised the girls that everyone in her social circle would know and shun Sammy from this day forth.

“… Let’s forget about it,” Gwen told her cousins. Forgetting Sammy, her eyes scanned the historical setting of Bar Astoria. During the day, the French windowed balcony doors were opened, offering a vista of the Huangpu River and the Bund. At night, the panes were shut, creating a cosy lounge. Beyond, the arc of the Bund's bay ran from left to right, paralleling the length of the white quartz bar that stretched the entirety of the bar lounge.

"Young misses, your drinks."

A bright-eyed young man with the standard red vest of the hotel staff bowed stiffly, lowering himself to allow the girls easier access to their drinks. When they each took their orders, there were two that remained—purple-orange creations with flecks of gold circling within.

"From the gentlemen by the window, miss." The waiter motioned subtly, drawing their eyes to the windowpane, where a suited young man seated with another male companion raised a glass.

"The second is for you, miss," the waiter spoke with a whisper. "From the other young sir."

Lulan's eyes sparkled. "Mao, Gwen! Isn't this what happens in dramas? I've seen this on Kusu's favourite shows."

Gwen shook her head. "Please return both drinks to the gentlemen and thank them for the offer. We're not socialising tonight." She smiled and placed an LDM on the tray as a tip for the waiter, intervening before Petra could dismiss their admirer with far less diplomacy. "Thank you."

"Of course, ma'am." The young man was very professional.

"Those Dragonfruit Daiquiris are four HDMs per serve, you know," Mina said.

Lulan took her Sunrise on the Bund and gingerly sipped the viscous liquid. "Oh my." Her eyes lit up. "Delicious! I've never had a drink like this before."

Gwen observed the bright-eyed girl sipping away happily but couldn't quite put her unease into perspective.

"So where did you dig this one out from?" Mina asked, distracting Gwen from her thoughts.

"There's a pretty good story there. Do you guys want to hear it? Peaches?" Gwen was now ready to deliver the story she'd withheld during lunch. Once certain elements were filtered for family-friendly listening, the tale would provide at least an hour of rapport and laughter.

"I am all ears. Maybe you can rap it out?" Tao pulled up a chair.

The wannabe hoodlum cut a strange figure in the bar. The girls were all delicate fabric and dazzling white flesh, while Tao was attired in white sneakers, Adidas tracks and a shirt two sizes too large. The contrast made his presence unique.

"Well, gather around, folks." Gwen crossed over her heels and straightened her spine, sipping her glass of Saffron gin and kumquat tonic, infusing her tongue with the tartness. “It all began when Kusu, Lulan’s brother here, asked me for a duel. Yes, Peaches, the real kind…"

The waiter left the four HDM beverages with their despondent buyers.

The young patron examined himself against the French window. He wore an Italian suit tailored to fit. In his reflection, he resembled a magazine model.

Looking over at the far table, he noticed that the single young man with the troop of stunningly gorgeous girls wore Adidas trackies and looked as though he should be squatting somewhere, bumming a butt-end.

Did I dress wrongly? he wondered. Am I doing the wrong things to attract girls of that grade? Has the trend changed that quickly? The yellow-teethed Adidas man had a face that looked like two soft-boiled eggs socketed into a bony skull. Maybe that is the new trend?

He turned to his companion. "Did you say they were having a battle in basement two?"

"Some American thing, yeah," his companion replied. "Why?"

The young man's eyes darted between his reflection, the chav and the girls. “Should… should we go and see what it's all about?"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Lulan hugged Gwen's arm against her chest as she snorted and shrieked hysterically. "That's FUNNY, Gwennie!"

Gwen was a little buzzed and had not noticed Lulan trying out half a dozen mixed spirits within the hour. The girl had no idea of her limits, which made an unfortunate cocktail combined with the bar's limitless concoctions.

When she had caught on, Lulan's cheeks had taken on the hue of the Moschino cherry she had gleefully suckled between her flushed lips.

Beside the intoxicated Sword Mage, Petra's ability to put away alcohol was as stoic as her stone-cold mien, packing away at least a dozen shots without a shade of scarlet touching her cheeks. Unlike the others, the Mineral Mage was a true Russian.

"A toast," Petra raised her shot glass. "Bottoms up."

Gwen wasn't sure if the vodka in this world was the product of magical Druid-grown potatoes or what, but if Petra extolled its virtues, then she wouldn't mind giving it a go. "Here's to the Void."

Toasting to difficult days to come, she slammed down the shot. The vodka was like a string of fire running down her throat. "Whoa!" Gwen took a second to master herself. "Strong." Her abdomen filled with a flush of warmth.

"I want to try!" Lulan eagerly offered herself as a tribute. As she reached for the shot glass, she stumbled and had to brace herself against Gwen's hip.

"She drunk as a goose, dawg." Tao chugged the rest of his beer, flaunting his iron liver and generous bladder. "She's tots wasted, cuz. She looks too young to be cruising, dawg."

Suddenly, the disquiet that Gwen had felt earlier came to her. HOLY SHIT! Lulan was still sixteen! Thanks to her capacity for ultra-violence, she had not once recalled that Lulu was a high school student. Gods! They’d taken a kid to a bar and allowed her unlimited access to the sauce bottles. What a crime!

Gwen sobered up at once. "I think we’d better go." She propped up Lulan's flaccid, limping body with one arm. "Someone get me a spare bag as well. If I know my alcohol…"

Despite the apparent risks, Mina offered to drive them home in her car. Tao left to rejoin his friends, boasting that he’d told them so.

Gwen's foresight proved fortuitous. A few minutes into the trip, Lulan failed her constitution save. "Bleeeeaarrgh! Oh… oh… I am dying. Gwen… Bleurgh! Tell Kusu… tell…”

All four windows were drawn downward, and an odour-filtering magical trinket was placed in the middle of the car. Even so, the volatile mix of fruit juice, alcohol, stomach acid and whatever Lulan had had for dinner was plain for all to experience.

Thankfully, real friends let their acquittances vomit in their Audi. Still, she felt sorry for her cousin, for she could see Mina wincing every time Lulan purged another Secret Peach and Tonic.

When they stumbled up to the sky garden, Kusu was waiting for them.

"Oh, my Mao!" He looked like she had never seen Lulan this vulnerable in his entire life. "Has she been poisoned? Did someone envenom your food? Are you all all right?"

"She's had a little too much to drink," Mina said.

Gwen figured she had better not let Lulan stay with Kusu. The sheltered clanner had never dealt with drunk teens before. If Lulan was left to her own devices, she could pull a Bon Scott of ACDC fame.

Lulan's brother nodded eagerly, his head bobbing like a nodding chook. The man most definitely preferred not to be the one who had to strip Lulan and wipe down his sister's vomit.

The girls took Lulan back to Gwen's apartment, with Mina bidding them goodbye after ensuring the Sword Mage didn't need medical attention. Petra asked Mina to leave a few minor healing spells with her, then bid Mina goodbye.

It wasn't until after Gwen and Petra dragged Lulan into the bathroom for another hour of purging that she resumed control of her faculties. "S-sorry." Lulan had lost her voice as well.

Having had some experience with the matter, Gwen rinsed the tub, ran a cleaning cantrip, then dispelled the stink.

Near the early morning, when Lulan reappeared before Kusu, she was pale and unsteady but lucid. Petra had popped a Healing Word from Mina to smooth out any physical ailments, which helped.

"Drink lots of water and sleep it off," Gwen advised them. "How did the housing situation go?"

"No good," Kusu admitted despondently. "We'll keep looking on Monday."

Gwen nodded and told them not to worry, then reiterated that Lulan should be kept under strict supervision and be given plenty of fluids.

Returning to her apartment, she found Petra running the filtration trinket in the bathroom again. Her cousin could be an incredible hypochondriac sometimes.

"Mayuree's maid is coming over tomorrow at noon to clean," Gwen informed her. "I'll be away at Babulya's at the PLA hospital. Do you want to come along? We can have lunch after."

"Sounds like a plan." Petra crossed her legs tiredly. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Much better." Gwen smiled weakly. "It was good to do something so… hmm."

"Mundane?"

"Ha-ha, that's it exactly. I needed that."

"You're the type to want to feel grounded, huh?"

"It helps." Gwen chuckled. "Magisters. Magic. Mages. Magi. Up, up and UP. There's not enough air up there. It's suffocating."

"But there's much more space up there too. The sky's the limit." Petra's smile was infectious.

"I know." Gwen tried to think of something else to say, but nothing came to mind. She needed to sleep off the buzz. It had been a good night. As for tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…

Tomorrow would be a long day.

Chapter four

Shadows on the Wall

Richard dropped in late morning after a quick breakfast with the girls, informing Gwen he would return by Thursday.

Lulan, meanwhile, was out like a light.

Meeting Petra below, Gwen felt refreshed and clear-headed, her mental fatigue erased by the riotous night.

Compared to Lulan, she felt perfectly in bloom. With her current constitution, another five shots of vodka would not have made a dent.

The girls took public transport to Wujiaochang and entered the hospital through the main gate. A fresh-faced red guard halted their progress, though a quick call to Klavdiya resolved the matter without further ado.

"Sunday shift," the girls' softly smiling babulya explained. "Most of our labs are shut, so they cycle in the recruits for the experience."

"What's the purpose of having NoM guards?" Gwen asked out of curiosity. It wasn't as though an NoM could stop a Mage from entering if they wanted.

"As witnesses to any incidents, and to ward off those who genuinely wander into the wrong place, as you may have."

"Besides, the labs are magically warded," Petra explained. "Just like Fudan's experimental laboratory. Do you think anyone can just come and go from my Master's domain? Master assigned your ID and mana signature to level two access after our first lesson."

Gwen thought of when one of Petra's admirers had aimlessly wandered back and forth in the corridor, too afraid to approach the door. She had assumed the man was just unusually shy.

Inside, the lab was as impeccably clean as Gwen's last visit, smelling faintly of sterility and bleach. She followed her grandmother to the changing room cupboard, where she had stowed a hospital gown that was large enough to keep her modesty.

"I heard you all went out last night. Is this true?" Babulya enquired, a gentle smile touching her face.

"Oh yes, with Mina and Tao," Gwen replied happily. "We went to one of Tao's shows. It was quite exciting. Afterwards, he shouted drinks."

"Shouted, hmm?" Her babulya wasn't familiar with the Aussie slang.

"To repay us for showing up to support him." Gwen laughed, eyeing Petra. "Pats is very popular on campus, you know. She must have turned his showcase upside down with her presence. There was this rival of his, Sammy, who was so enamoured he disrobed on stage."

"Oh my! I should have a word with this young man's family." Her babulya knitted her brows. "Yes, Petra is rather popular, hmm? Did you know that when she first arrived, I had to knock back two to three proposals a month, asking for her hand?"

"Babulya!" To Gwen's surprise, Petra blushed.

How cute! Gwen gabbled internally. She hadn't seen Petra acting like a young woman at all. Most of the time, her resting expression could lower the temperature of any room she entered. Her previous post at the Moscow Tower had made her incredibly jaded to love.

Gwen wondered if, without her “elderly” self as a guide, she would also become cynical.

"Ha-ha." Their babulya laughed. "I should count myself lucky, eh? I've received a few for you as well. You should know."

"You have?"

"Oh yes." Klavdiya's eyes twinkled. "Would you like to know from whom?"

"Do I want to know?" Gwen enquired of Petra, seeking wisdom from her predecessor.

"You don't," Petra advised. "Imagine running into someone at the university, then realising that the ublyudok had asked for an arranged marriage."

“Ah. Awkward.”

"Yeah."

"Ha-ha." Their babulya seemed amused by the prospect. The joy of having beautiful and talented granddaughters! "All right, enough talk. Gwen, you know what to do, yes?"

"Yes, Babulya." Gwen, now changed, fitted herself into the wall-mounted machine that measured, scanned, and recorded her biometrical data.

Klavdiya read out the script's data entries one by one, the octave of her voice rising with every record.

"Evocation, 4.21. Conjuration 5.02. Transmutation 2.10. Abjuration 1.65. Divination 1.11. My heart…" Gwen's babulya had to hold onto one of the protruding manipulator arms. Petra quickly rushed to her grandmother's aid, taking the opportunity to see the script herself. "Gwen, these numbers are astounding."

Though her grandmother knew what had occurred, Gwen elected to provide more explicit details of her cannibalistic act. When she had finished her story, Klavdiya touched her fingers against her thin lips. "Goodness, I'd presumed, but this is unimaginable!"

"My training should have taken me close to Evocation four and Conjuration five," Gwen explained. "As for the rest, I guess the statistics speak for themselves."

"Let's see your Affinity before we get ahead of ourselves." Klavdiya tapped the console. "There are more at play here than just numbers."

Gwen approached the spectrometric device and placed both hands on the orb.

"Begin when you're ready."

The stone glowed brilliant white for several seconds as Gwen poured her Lightning charged mana into its conduits.

“Hm, 4.82.” Klavdiya noted it on her data slate. "Again."

The next value returned 4.83. The one after that, 4.82.

"An expected increase. It's in line with the amount of practice you've been doing."

Gwen again placed her hand atop the orb.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." She took a lungful of air. The last time she had performed the same test, her grandmother had had to supplement her vitality with a Restoration. "Here I go."

The orb grew dark and inky. Gwen sensed the tenebrous tendrils of the void caress her conduits, raging against the oppositional forces of Almudj's Druidic Essence. Her vital force was enough to rebuff the negative energy drain.

Slowly, very faintly, the bulwark of her fortified vigour diminished. She ceased her channelling.

"That’s 4.22," Klavdiya said. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fine, Babulya."

Klavdiya held the scripts in her hand, wearing an inquisitive expression as she examined the scores. "One more station," she informed her granddaughter. "Then we can talk."

Gwen stepped into the chambered mechanism of a machine that resembled a chest-compression trainer. She grasped both handles and connected the device's mana circuitry with her conduits.

As before, she imagined herself pushing the mana in her body outward. Astral forces poured from the aether within her body, streaming through her mana channels. A free-floating mote of Divination entered, then quickly dissipated into her astral body.

The indicator rose and fell until it reached equilibrium.

"You're past your old record." Petra was watching over Klavdiya’s shoulders.

Gwen continued to channel, forcing everything she possessed into the machine.

“Enough!” Klavdiya had to catch the stream of scripts pouring from the data slot with both hands. “Take a rest.”

Gwen's chest rose and fell as she caught her breath. "How's it looking?"

"It’s 189." Klavdiya made a face. "Monstrous."

"That's about two Senior Mages rolled into one, if you're wondering." Petra's face was still recovering from the shock. "Gwen, you have three times the VMI I do."

"But your cubes hardly use any mana," Gwen protested.

"I don't think that's the point," Petra teased her. "You're a one-woman mana battery! They should send you to power the siege engines. Tell them you can jump an Iron Golem straight up."

"Well, Babulya, what do you think?" Gwen enquired. "Does this mean I am more proficient in my two major schools now?"

"I am not sure, to be honest." Her babulya held the scripts. "I'll need to consult with Magister Wen. Why don't the two of you get some lunch? I'll go and see Marie now. We'll eat and talk. We'll call you in a few hours and continue."

"All right, Babulya," Gwen replied, seeing how distracted her grandmother was. She hoped her Affinity increase wasn't something with a deadly side effect.

"Where do you want to go?" Petra asked.

Gwen changed into her sundress and rejoined Petra. She was feeling a little hungrier after that liberal expenditure of Void matter. "I know a little place where they sell Beggar's Chicken."

"A beggar's…?" Petra's expression was sceptical. "Is that hygienic?"

"Oh yes," Gwen assured her with eager eyes. "We can take one back for Babulya as well. Babulya, it's a wonderful dish! You have to try it. I can store the whole thing in my ring. Is that okay?"

"Sure thing, dear. I'll be sure to share it with Percy and Guo." Her grandmother was shutting down all the machines absent-mindedly while still muttering about the numbers on the scripts.

Gwen felt her enthusiasm doused somewhat at the mention of her brother and grandfather. Petra patted her shoulders. For now, they could only leave their babulya to her devices.

Magister Wen, Babulya, and to their surprise, Magus Kumiko met the girls at the training hall.

The Magister informed them that she had prepared a private chamber to continue investigating Gwen's newfound powers.

"Worry not, we'll get to the bottom of this yet," Wen confidently informed her, though Gwen wasn't sure what the “bottom” meant.

The training hall was about the size of an indoor soccer field, twice the size Gwen had hired for herself. In juxtaposition to the outer rooms, the inner chambers were reserved for staff and warded for confidentiality.

"All right, Gwen." Magister Wen held a slate with her updated biometrics. "Let's see some tier-five Conjuration, shall we?"

"I haven't tried it yet, ma'am," Gwen confessed. "I couldn't get the Conjure Elemental Swarm to complete its circuit before."

And it wasn't for lack of trying either. Gwen sighed. A tier V feedback was enough to give her a ringing headache and ongoing nausea for about an hour. Should the recoil be unexpectedly robust, she could be put out for half a day.

"Now's a perfect time then, go on," Wen urged her. "Klavdiya is here to take care of any mishaps."

"Marie's right. Have confidence, dear." Gwen's babulya informed her. "Even so, do be careful."

Besides the director and Magister, Magus Kumiko was scanning Gwen's scripts with her lips half-parted. "Gwen, this… this is incredible," the Positive-Conjuror said with awe. "I'd been debriefed by Magister Wen, but this just puts us to shame."

Gwen smiled awkwardly. Kumiko was the only one not entirely in the know. From the looks of it, Wen merely used the Japanese Magus for convenience. After all, they would need a constant supply of her Summon to feed Gwen's hunger.

"Gwen, you may begin. Tier V Conjuration, don't forget," Wen said.

Gwen walked some distance away until she was far enough from her observers that they could be safely shielded behind the Walls of Force, erected for the observer's protection. This essential convenience was also why they had chosen a training room rather than the Cognisance Chamber.

Watched by her seniors, Gwen slowly drew in her breath, relaxed her mind, and allowed her breathing to reach a comfortable, natural cadence.

Her fingers moved slowly through the air, like a conductor of some invisible music, weaving a spell through her inner world. Her lips invoked incantation after incantation, aiding in the mnemonic delivery of complex support sigils.

As the stacked incantations took form, she felt the stress placed upon her mind ratchet rapidly. Here was where she had failed before—when her mental capacity and trained expertise had been no longer sufficient to sustain the pseudo mandala formed within the recess of her astral form. Upon failure, the whole incantation stack would overflow, and the injected mana would feedback into her astral body. Without a VMI like hers, a lesser Mage could be struck dumb by the flood of excess mana, potentially sustaining extensive injuries to their conduits.

Bit by bit, she piled on the final components of the magic Magister Wen had tailor-made for her based on her Master's unique Conjuration technique.

The last part of the chant fell into place with the snugness of a final puzzle piece sliding into its final position.

Gwen's hands ceased.

Her lips spoke the last words.

A flood of lightning-charged mana entered the sigil from her Elemental Gate.

The researchers watched from the other side of the room. Both Kumiko and Klavdiya had access to the Clerical variety of Detect Magic, which allowed them to perform Spellcraft examinations, surveying the movement of Gwen's mana through her conduits. Lacking the diagnostic spell particular to Biomancy, Petra and Magister Wen perused especially modified Spectacles of Detect Magic, which replicated the effects.

"Fascinating," Magister Wen’s voice came across the tiny, embedded speakers. "She's like an incandescent font of mana."

"This is her first time?" Her grandmother enquired, likewise impressed.

Magister Wen continued writing on her slate.

"A smooth transition, uninterrupted incantation too. No external aids either," Their aid added to the data, hoping to make herself useful. "Though Gwen’s casting speed suggests she's a novice, how interesting—Oh!"

Gwen finished her last invocation. "Conjure Elemental!" Two bolts of white-hot Lightning cut across the space in front of her.

First came a pair of enormous cobalt horns, then a scale-covered reptilian face with incandescent orbs for eyes. In the next moment, both creatures freed themselves from the planar tear, transitioning from the Elemental Plane of Lightning into the material realm. Compared to her Familiars, however, these were wild and untethered.

"Arc Runners!" Magister Wen clapped impressively. "Wonderful!"

The two elementals noticed their observers immediately and dashed for the foursome, running headfirst into shimmering panes of force. As though dumb and deaf to their surroundings, the creatures continued the assault until they were spent.

As the hysterical electricity faded, Gwen felt her mana freely flow away. Excess elemental Lightning arced from her body onto the tiles, lighting up her reflection in the Walls of Force with concentric cobalt circles. Her hair stood on end, lifted into the air by the static.

Her grandmother chuckled at the sight of Gwen's electrified appearance, amused and proud all at once. "Gwen, come. Take a deep breath. Release any excess mana from your body. Let's discuss what we've seen so far." Klavdiya motioned for her to join them.

Unfortunately, the training hall was spartan and without detail. "Mai, can you bring some chairs and tables?"

Magus Kumiko was a Conjuror at a sufficient tier to Call Greater Objects. The Summoner walked a small distance away, then beckoned for a small round table and four chairs, engendering a burst of silvery Conjuration.

"Thank you, dear. The old bones aren't what they used to be." Wen said.

Gwen’s eyes quickly darted between the two women. It was true, while Wen looked to be in her fifties, her grandmother was no more than her forties.

The senior Mages sat. Like Gwen, Petra opted to stand.

“Let’s begin… One of the things I am most interested in,” Magister Wen explained as tea and shortbread were summoned, was how Consume subverted the existing dynamics of known Spellcraft. "You should have learned that 'quotients' for certain Schools of Magic refer to the Affinity one possesses in conjuring a particular type of arcane phenomenon. Transmuters modify existing things, Conjurors call for and summon creatures and beings, Abjurers generally have an innate protective instinct, and so on."

"As for tiers, there's another can of worms here. Tier IV doesn't mean one is 300 spells away from reaching tier V," she continued. "The scaling system is simply a metric developed to ballpark the expertise required to utilise particular spells of a specific complexity or magnitude. It is why you can train in higher tier spells to increase your overall 'tier'. Though if you're not careful, a particularly nasty mana burn could set you back years."

"In the Frontier, if you recall, the average Senior Mage had a cap of tier V to six. Those without talent, when pushing tiers, risk more than they gain. Likewise, training in lower-level spells has diminishing returns, failing to provide overall expertise once they become almost second nature."

Gwen concurred with a nod.

"As such, in the Path of Spellcraft, one must constantly risk one's cultivated faculties to push forward, endlessly learning new spells, adventuring, gaining alternative means to increase one's Affinity, and so on. It takes vast resources, risk, and time to break through the 'ceiling at six'. It's not a path for everyone, and very few make it."

The Magister sipped her tea. "Now, Gwen, for your particular situation, I suspect that what you're gaining is not what a 'tier' usually refers to, a Mage's expertise and experience within a School of Magic, distilled through a formalised metric system. I suspect that what you're gaining is the Affinity by which your astral body can process such specific types of magical phenomena. You, personally, have not gained greater knowledge or expertise, but you will experience less spell stress and fatigue."

Wen continued her rumination while Gwen digested the scholar's hypothesis.

"I am going to tell you something that's a few academic ranks above your means to know," Wen said. "The tier system, also known as the Imperial Metric System, is imperfect. The visual manifestations we have come to accept as the norm are merely numeric simplifications."

Gwen nodded. It was true that even in her old world, many natural phenomena had remained unexplained.

Magister Wen looked like she was expecting her to be baffled. When there was no expression of perplexity, she raised an eyebrow. "Can you explain?"

Gwen gave the matter some thought, then began to speak with great care. "I will try, ma'am. What you're suggesting is that current theory is something we know but do not understand, much in the way the ancients built their lives around the seasons but could not conjecture why the seasons happened, nor why each season was the way it was. By that same logic, what we see inside ourselves is a cognitive projection shaped by years of education and study, taken as fact and seldom questioned. Our view of Spellcraft, therefore, is a system rather than a description of its raw, explicit nature."

"Can you clarify?"

Gwen wet her lips, then continued. "It's about projection and visualisation. Much in the same way that when we think of a cat, we envision a feline in our minds and can even go as far as to interact and imagine ourselves playing with it—and so it goes in quantifying these astral and planar forces that do our bidding."

Magister Wen blinked several times before a broad smile touched her usually severe lips. "Very well, can you elucidate then? What constitutes a 'tier'?"

Gwen gave the matter some thought. "In circumstances without the variables of talent, bloodlines, Affinity and spirit links, a tier is a precise measurement of one's processing abilities. The capability to concoct and manifest a certain complexity of incantations within one's astral and physical body before the mind becomes overstressed. However, with those variables, one must also consider the compatibility of the individual Mage with the spells they are learning. The more one ascends the tiers, the more significant this Affinity becomes."

Lulan's woes came to mind. The girl had forced herself to learn an unsuitable style of magic, almost destroying her conduits and her sanity. Using sheer willpower to supersede one's limitations should be a calculated risk, not a rush of blood to the head.

"Correct." Magister Wen tapped her slate. "You are a very talented academic child. If all else fails, you will have a sterling career as an analyst."

Gwen's babulya beamed.

"Petra taught me well, ma'am," Gwen replied modestly. Petra's face went red for the second time that day.

Gwen also felt embarrassed. She had lifted the entire analogy from Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” and his “Other Dialogues”. In Gwen's philosophical reasoning, Mages saw the astral world as projected shadows on the wall. In this parable, therefore, one had to consider that someone had made the cave, fire and shackles. This 'someone' would be the Imperial Metric System, where one was ingrained in learning and envisioning arcane phenomena from an early age. She supposed that had she been an NoM; she would have been shackled to the cave for the rest of her life, never understanding that the shadows were a representation, a “tier” of understanding in itself.

"Which means, in the practical sense," Magister Wen circled back onto their initial discussion, "you are appropriating the 'talent' of those you consume."

"I think it's best if we picture it like this." Her cousin created a crystal lattice. "The bottom one is what you're born with." She allowed the first segment to stand on the table. "This next section is what you appropriate from others." Petra added another block atop the first. "Last, is the result of your training. " She put another block on top of the second. "Together, they make up your tier index."

Gwen walked the circumference of the demonstrative visual metaphor. "How many stolen talents could I train? I could currently use an Abjurer's Shield and Transmutation and Divination. Could I reach tier IX simply by stealing?"

"I think there have to be diminishing returns," Magister Wen said. "Otherwise, someone would be a demi-god by now."

Sobel. Gwen inclined her chin solemnly toward Magister Wen. The Magister does know about Elizabeth Sobel.

"But here's what's viable right now. You will be able to pick up spells easier, far easier, in your practical training. Unlike your peers, you won't ever experience bottlenecks in your Spellcraft progression, at least, not until the higher tiers," Wen proposed. "Unless you're thinking of Consuming every Magister you can lay your hands on."

"I don't intend to," Gwen replied somewhat sensitively, pivoting the subject matter. "What's a bottleneck?"

Both Klavdiya and Wen chuckled.

Magus Kumiko made a funny expression. "A bottleneck is when someone training in a school outside their natural Affinity. The lack of compatibility within their astral body is too much for the individual to overcome. For instance, I am at Conjuration six but struggle to get Evocation past tier V."

"For Mages who are not, well… you, Gwen," Petra said, "the more we practice a particular school, the more our astral form eases into that School of Magic. It's what we call specialisation, and Enchanters such as Magister Wen and me especially focus on this sort of phenomenon to stabilise our creation process. For the average Mage, it takes decades of practice in a single school to align body and mind. Likewise, this phenomenon impedes a specialist Mage from training in other Schools of Magic."

"Indeed." Magister Wen said. "What happens when a Mage has access to all the Schools of Magic from an early age? What does that do for one's physiology? What could it mean when each school reaches a particular tier of Affinity or expertise?"

"What happens?" Gwen asked.

"No one knows!" Wen's voice rose an octave and took on a life of its own. "Perhaps you're the answer. Thanks to Caliban, Gwen, we may open new chapters in Spellcraft theory."

Gwen tried to speak, but Magister Wen was too excited to let her interject. "Imagine, Gwen. A Mage versed in all schools, even ones we don't know about. You would be the ultimate Generalist. A Generalist-Specialist! Ha-ha!"

"That's too much," Gwen blustered, wary of where their conversation was headed. She hadn't intended to snap at Magister Wen, but the pie in the sky in the Magister's comment had touched a nerve. What was it that Nephres had taunted her with? Was that what had happened to Elizabeth Sobel? Had her Master's wife also begun her spiral of madness with death-row inmates?

Gwen wrung her hands nervously. Did it come to that? Would it come to that?

"Marie…" Klavdiya said, clearly noticing Gwen's face.

The zealous academic caught herself. "Of course, of course!" Magister Wen said. Her instructor appeared giddy with anticipation. "Now, onto our second agenda." She exchanged a glance with Klavdiya. "Now, my girl, are you ready to test the limits of your satiation?"

Chapter five

For Thou Art with Me

Wen's burning eyes made Gwen wilt. How could the Void know satisfaction? It was insatiable by nature.

When she had abused the Void precariously in Sydney, her weight had dropped considerably at one point, so much that she could count her ribs.

When finally, she had begun training with her Master, Sufina had been there with her vitality-enhancing Golden Mead. A single cup was to Gwen a gentle Restoration, nourishing her body and her mind and dispelling the residues of Negative Energy in her body.

And additionally, with the Kirin Amulet's mystical aid, her voracious appetite had been kept at bay. Even consuming Faceless, a creature many magnitudes above her aptitude, had not induced convulsions of mind-numbing euphoria.

Once she’d got to Shanghai, there had been Babulya's healing and the two Vitae Fruits she’d consumed, which had all provided ample buffers for her to remain relatively healthy. By that same measure, the vitality she now possessed was excessive enough that strangers mistook her for a Healer.

With the amulet gone, all of that had changed. The hunger that had awakened after her first encounter with Edgar at the Royal National had never known satisfaction.

Gwen searched for an honest answer for the Magister.

"Are you full now?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Gwen confessed. "I suppose I don't feel hungry."

"You've never described the hunger to us, Gwen." Magister Wen said. "Is feeding addictive?"

Gwen forced herself to relax her jaws. "The hunger of the Void… it's not hunger in the sense of a desire for food. Rather, I would describe it as a desire for completion."

"What is it like when Caliban consumes something?"

"It's akin to a man whose perpetual existence is one of voracious hunger. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming, driven to gluttony," Gwen explained. "Feeding is the satisfaction of that hunger."

"Addictive?"

"I am not wholly in possession of that knowledge." Gwen shook her head. "Yes, one could suppose. Addictive in the sense that a starving man desires to feed."

Magister Wen exchanged a glance with her grandmother, who appeared concerned. "For almost a decade, your infamous predecessor had no lack of resources to keep her satiated," Magister Wen said. "The world was at war. Humanity fought the demi-humans, fought the magical Beast Tide, fought each other. Mages galore; a perpetual buffet."

Gwen felt her spine run cold.

"No, we do not intend to send you into a war zone." Klavdiya's benevolent eyes advised Gwen to remain collected.

"However, we do need to make progress, Gwen." Magister Wen raised her voice. "You are currently ignorant of your limitations. You don't know the consequences of your magic. You don't understand the ramifications of your consumption. What if you disable yourself during an engagement? What happens to your party? How does the Void influence your mind? What is its longitudinal impact, both mentally and physiologically? Is it powerful enough to overwhelm your faculties? We need answers, Gwen. You need answers, answers too dangerous to be haphazardly gained in the field."

"The ultimate choice is yours." Her babulya drew Gwen closer to the table. She touched Gwen’s hand and massaged her fingers. “You walk a violent path. I do not doubt you need these answers.”

“I know.” Gwen returned her babulya’s gesture with a squeeze. “The greatest danger would be to do nothing.”

“Precisely!” Magister Wen looked pleased. “I am glad you understand. Let us proceed, then, by assessing our strategies from now on." She tapped the table. "In the last six weeks, Petra and I, with the aid of Magus Kumiko, have collated data on your abilities, studying how the Void talent expends, collects, and utilises vitality concurrently with mana. If you're wondering, Gwen, I have sent the data to Klavdiya for analysis. She is fully aware of the self-harm caused by your talent, which is why I have her support on the matter.

"As such, let me explain our findings. First, there are two aspects to Void consumption; both phrases we coined for our paper. One—the inundation of your body by the necrotic energies of the Void. Also known as Passive Negative-Energy Drain. Two—the expenditure of vitality to empower the vampiric effects of the Void to Vitae cost. We have observed that each manifests as a distinct outcome independent of one another. Both are harmful to your health. Gwen, when you use Void Bolt, a spell which you describe as lacking the vampiric effect of life-drain, the weakness you feel is the Negative Energy flushed into your mana conduits. I believe you can validate this, yes?"

Gwen acknowledged that, yes, her Void-based Evocations did indeed induce a Negative Energy Drain.

"Conversely, when you empower Caliban to Consume, you have described the effect as 'taking a pound of my flesh'. Our collated data from your feeding sessions with Mai suggest that there is a Vitae cost to activate Caliban's ability to take in the Essence of the creatures it feeds on."

"Essence?"

"Yes. The Elves called it one's life force. The Dwarves called it dasein; both refer to the abstract concept of 'being' that is peculiar to sapient creatures, from the smallest Faye to the most ancient Dragon. We, as scholars of human Spellcraft, call it Essence. Existing theory on it is incomplete, though Abstraction Theorem ABT3003, a third-year course, offers some answers."

Gwen tried and failed to imagine the content of those courses.

"Therefore, to account for Passive NED and VC, you require both a constant source of magical healing, which will repair your damaged conduits and negatively-drained body, as well as a source to replenish your lost vitality."

"That's going to be difficult," Gwen observed, "especially in the field."

"No doubt. We need to ready contingencies for your conflict-filled path. According to Petra, you fell unconscious when you Consumed Nephres Zalaam?"

"I did," Gwen confessed. "The vitality from that woman was too much."

"No doubt," Magister Wen said. "A tier VI Healer, even a rogue one, would have amassed a life force many magnitudes that of your average Mage. Though some of it appears to have been converted by your Familiar into Void matter."

"It didn't do that before," Gwen said. "When I was in the dungeon, the critters Caliban ate directly empowered my Void spells as vitality."

"Perhaps a condition of the Consume ability, then?" Petra noted. "You did receive it in the dungeon."

"Maybe," Gwen felt her skin crawl from the recollection.

"Putting that aside for now," Magister Wen said. "Here are your options. The first solution is to stop using Void altogether or employ no more Void as can be offset by your Druidic Essence. It means you can focus on acquiring items and Wildland rarities that will bolster your vitality.

"Solution two. We work on increasing your Affinity. We know that Caliban can consume magical creatures of the Air and Positive Energy variety to increase your Lightning Affinity. Concurrently, it may also be able to consume Void creatures to increase your Void Affinity. We have no idea how this will affect your physiology or mental state but suffice it to say it will greatly reduce VC. The added boon to this solution is that you can be satiated with magical creatures, which I believe you have conceded to Consuming."

"Yes, ma'am," Gwen said.

"Now for our third option. Prisoners on death row or demi-humans slated for disposal. Every month, the CCP executes up to twenty Mages for various crimes, from grand treason to repeat offenders of particular vices to battlefield deserters. Though rare, they may possess interesting Schools of Magic or very particular talents that can be useful to you."

"Magister…" Gwen began, understanding what she was trying to leverage.

It was an old managerial trick. Give someone three options: one is terrible, another is difficult, and the last is beneficial for the majority but morally ambiguous.

"I feel that is going too far." Klavdiya shook her head, her tone growing severe. "We didn't experiment on prisoners even during the Sino War. Do you think we'll go as far as the Japanese? Have you forgotten the atrocities of Unit 731? That path strays too far, Marie, even for you."

Magus Kumiko blanched. Even Gwen had heard that the infamous Nana-san-ichi Butai experiments had sullied Japan's relationship with their neighbours. Their attempts to create superior bloodlines through bio and necromancy using demi-human and human prisoners had shaken the Spellcraft community to its core. The refusal to publicly accept the existence of the unit had furthermore alienated Japan from its Korean, Chinese and South-East Asian neighbours. Even its Singaporean trade partners had snubbed the island nation as a result.

"Your granddaughter needs to know how her power works, Klavdiya. I guarantee you—these are dead men walking. They may as well benefit humanity one last time. Where's the fault in that? Gwen must ride the lightning or be utterly obliterated by it. Would you like to see that instead?" Magister Wen confronted Klavdiya's unwavering eyes, then turned toward the culprit of their conflict. "Gwen, you make the call."

The taste on Gwen's tongue curdled as Magister Wen, Magus Kumiko, Petra and Klavdiya expectantly awaited her answer.

She should make the call? Such an easy thing to say! Gwen had ruminated upon her dilemma through the night, allowing the fleeting visions of her projections and speculations to pass through her mind like hues of colour across a kaleidoscopic spectrum. Time and time again, she’d mulled over her visions and revisions, decisions and indecisions, which the next minute would reverse.

She couldn't go on like this, not with Elizabeth Sobel huffing and puffing after her. Not with her enemies clawing at the door of her stick-hutch home.

It wasn't as though her hands were white and sweet. She would be a fool to believe herself unsullied. Gunther's instruction during Blackheath. Her killing of Faceless at Rosebay. The pigtail girl in the Hengsha Dungeon.

The choice she’d made in D-109. This world was tainting her little by little, tinting her in its colours. How long could she remain unafflicted, believing herself above it all?

Didn't they say one had to break a few eggs to make an omelette? One day, she would take up arms against the elements. If so, why not prepare for it now?

Her eggs, her omelettes, her decision.

The others waited for Gwen to speak. When Gwen met their eyes again, she felt her resolve harden.

"I have given the matter much thought, Magister, and I realise that a decision must be made for all of us to move forward," Gwen spoke slowly and meticulously, as though she was ascending an increasingly steep set of steps. "Therefore, Babulya, Petra, Magister Wen and Magus Kumiko, please allow me a moment to explain."

She had to catch her breath to stifle the riotous rebellion in her chest.

"I did not ask for the power of the Void. I was at first naive and dismissive of what it brought and what it would do. I foolishly refused to acknowledge its presence, even as I abused it, used it, and revelled in the boons it brought. But as a great sage once said, though we may not be interested in war, war is interested in us. Though we seek no company with conflict, conflict loves company.

"With Nephres Zalaam, I made a choice. I have mulled the decision in my mind over and over, and still, I could not think of a single reason why I would have left the woman alive. She was too dangerous, too damaging to those I love. Therefore, I did it. I took a life to benefit myself.

"With my choice, I embarked upon the path Grandmother showed me when I first arrived in Shanghai. I now walk the Way of Asura, the Path of Violent Reckoning. With this step, I can no longer turn back. To regret is death. To return is to embrace failure. I would lose my freedom, my life, and most importantly, bring misery upon those I love."

Gwen wetted her parched lips. "I am not a religious woman, but I wish to tell you this—'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.'"

The uncertainty in her voice faded. "I will not fear because you, Babulya, are with me. Because Petra and Richard are with me. Because Uncle Jun promised he would help me. Because I have Gunther, Alesia and my friends here and in Sydney."

Her family's eyes brimmed with happiness and recognition.

“And you as well, Magister Wen and Magus Kumiko. You are my guides. Therefore, I give myself to you."

Magister Wen appeared lost for words. She raised a hand, touched her cheek as if to wipe away something, then opened her mouth to speak, only to recall that she was lost for words. Magus Kumiko also suppressed a shuddering sob, her youth and occupation making her far more sensitive to sentimentality.

Gwen repressed her own billowing emotions, then continued. "Let's do it. Whatever happens in the future, whether we defeat the Void's taint or whether I must be put down like a rabid hound, I want to have no regrets because I steered my sails into the sea of troubles."

Gwen bowed, forming a full ninety-degree arc, allowing her hair to fall past her shoulders. "For my selfishness. Thank you. Everyone."

Klavdiya reached out and embraced her granddaughter, then kissed her endearingly on the forehead. Gwen hugged her babulya tightly, then welcomed Petra into her arms.

When they finally separated, Gwen embraced Magister Wen, flustering the awkward academic. When Magus Kumiko looked on enviously, Gwen hugged her as well, enveloping the small Japanese woman against her chest.

"I will help you as much as I can," Magister Wen's voice rubber-banded back to normality almost instantly.

"I-I will t-too!" Magus Kumiko appeared drunk from the drama.

"I'll keep you on the straight and narrow." Petra squeezed Gwen's fingers, assuring her of her devotion. "How can you go insane when we have to attend more of Tao's godawful concerts?"

Klavdiya held her hand firmly.

Magister Wen coughed. The atmosphere seemed to be too stifling for the academic. "It's settled, then. Please wait for me to make the necessary arrangements. Both Towers will be informed, as well as Lord Shultz. I will consult with Dean Luo as well. Everything will be officially confidential. You will have nothing to fear."

"Yes, ma'am." Gwen sensed a weight lift off her shoulders. She felt like she was walking on air. "Let us both move forward with great strides. I must reiterate that I do not wish for unnecessary experimentation beyond what we require to acquire the knowledge we seek."

"Of course, Gwen. It's all for Spellcraft. I wouldn't have it any other way. Do you have a preference?" Wen inclined her head solemnly.

"Preference, ma'am?"

"Preference for your next meal," the Magister replied. "Man, woman, demi-human, Divination, Abjuration, something new perhaps, Illusion?"

Gwen suppressed the rising bile in her throat as a new weight crushed her short-lived positivity. She dearly wished that Magister Wen could at least feign concern for what their future held.

"Marie! Really!" Gwen's babulya interjected.

Gwen raised a hand to stop her grandmother. "At your discretion, ma'am. I would suggest a school I have yet to possess. Will these prisoners be fully vetted?"

"Absolutely." Wen nodded. "I will be judicious."

"When…"

"Next Saturday."

"I see. Very well."

The sudden turn in the atmosphere dispelled the last motes of sentimentality lingering in the air.

"In the meanwhile, let's proceed with our original plan. I wish to expel my excess vitality and ready myself for what is to come," Gwen said. "Magister Wen, is that all right with you?"

"More than all right. Let us Enchant when the iron is soft enough to be inscribed. I can't say I am not intrigued. Klavdiya, Mai, keep an eye on Gwen. Petra, lend me a hand."

"Yes, ma'am."

The two Healers retreated to one side.

"How shall we proceed?" Gwen enquired.

"Gwen, summon Caliban, please," Magister Wen commanded.

"Caliban!"

Her serpent slithered from the immaterial. "Shaa-shaa?"

"Stay," Gwen commanded.

"Shaa!"

With her increased mastery of Conjuration, the tug on Caliban's animus exerted by her will was on a new level.

Flushed with Void matter, Caliban's exterior was almost entirely jet, absorbing the light. An oily sheen reflected off the creature's smooth, faceless chitin as it coiled about Gwen's ankles.

Magus Kumiko moved a safe distance away to construct her Summoning Circle.

"First, let's not waste all that Void matter." Magister Wen materialised a dozen spell cubes.

"Your previous weekly threshold is twenty-seven VMIs worth of Void-infused mana." Magister Wen pointed to the cubes. "These are twenty-five VMI cubes. Fill in as many of these as you are able. Let's deduce a baseline index for what you have absorbed from the Healer for us to use as a control for the future."

Gwen knelt by the cubes and placed her hand on their runic surfaces.

Wen turned to her student. "Petra, Octagramic Warding, tier III. Enhanced stability and extended duration. Start the sealing process at nine-tenth capacity."

"Yes, Master." Petra moved a little distance away and began to inscribe the floor with crystalline shards, creating a magical circle warded with glyphs of protection and stability. It was an ability that only those who specialised in Enchantment could utilise. Even if Gwen were to acquire Affinity in the Enchantment school, she could not replicate the effect without years of schooling and experience.

Standing apart and again watched by three pairs of eyes ablaze with diagnostic magic, Gwen felt as though she'd been stripped naked. Magister Wen made an especially intimidating figure with her wiry-thin frame and glowing glasses, the very caricature of a scientist likely to affect a catchcry such as, “It's alive!”

Petra took a few minutes to finish up while Gwen shook the nerves from her body. Upon completing the circular ward, she activated the circle with a jolt of mana, her invocation setting the glyphs alight.

Magister Wen inspected her student's work and found it satisfactory. "Gwen, we will proceed in three stages. First, we will drain your excess vitality via Void mana. During this stage, keep a close eye on your health and report any anomalies as you experience them."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Next, assuming you can continue, you will expend your Druidic Essence to depletion. Again, I must ask that you report any anomalies, especially of your satiation."

Gwen nodded.

"Finally, at your discretion and judgement, you may experiment with what remains of your vitality. Know that Klavdiya and Magus Kumiko will be on hand to assist."

"Yes, ma'am."

The magic circle was now humming. As Gwen entered the ward, she could sense the circulating energies of the magical construct providing a protective barrier that soothed the flow of mana within her body, significantly offsetting her anxiety.

When the cadence of her breath plateaued, she turned her mind inward, commanding her Evocation Sigil to channel a torrent of raw Void matter through her conduits into the spell cube. Instantly, as though pervaded by inky water, the cube turned tenebrous. Within her body, she felt the movement of void-tainted mana like slivers of ice through her veins, prickling and tickling her mana channels. Through it all, her excess vitality both fed and protected her against the flood of Negative Energy manifesting through her physical form.

"Sealing," Petra said. "Switching to the next cube."

"Gwen, don't be afraid to let us know your limits," Klavdiya advised.

"I will, Babulya.”

Gwen began on the second cube. A third followed. Then a fourth. And a fifth.

Midway through the sixth, Gwen stopped. The excess vitality filling her physical form ceased. Triggered by the Negative Drain, her Druidic Essence activated, filling her mana channels with emerald energy.

"I am tapped out," Gwen said. "Give me a moment." She closed her eyes and inspected her astral body, envisioning its projected form, observing the motes of Lightning and Void interplaying within a sculptural silhouette. Already, she felt the buzz of abstract hunger hovering at the edge of her consciousness.

"I will now proceed with my Druidic Essence."

"Switching to a fresh cube," Petra announced.

Her babulya readied a Restoration and a healing jolt of Positive Energy.

Meanwhile, Gwen embraced the familiar sensation of raw Void matter ravaging her innards as her Druidic Essence diminished. "I am out of Essence." Gwen felt her innards take on a deadly chill as her Druidic Essence waned. She had filled a single cube.

"Gwen!" Kumiko enquired, looking worried.

"Are you all right?" Her babulya held off on the Restoration.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban cooed worriedly.

"I am okay," Gwen assured them. "Cali, I am fine."

Caliban laid its head to rest at her feet.

With her spectacles aglow with diagnostic enchantments, Wen inspected the interaction between Familiar and the Conjurer. "Curious, the stored Void mana within Caliban is independent of your conduits. Can you induce it into feeding you some of that energy?"

"Caliban…" Gwen demanded.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban rolled back and forth on the floor adorably, coiling and uncoiling as though it was trying to squeeze something from within itself.

"It doesn't know how," Gwen replied.

"Meaning it could, once Caliban attains a higher order of intelligence," Magister Wen noted. "Maybe coax it some more? Try to envision it."

Gwen exerted more pressure on Caliban. "Come on, Cali! Out with it!"

Caliban split its carapace, revealing its purple-skinned head with its lamprey's mouth. "Shaa—hurrrgh—hurragh!"

"Something's coming!" Perhaps a projectile attack? If Caliban could vomit forth a spray of consumptive Void matter, it would add a whole new dimension to its attacks.

Clang!

A dagger fell onto the floor.

Caliban's audience froze.

"Hurrrrggn!"

A torrent of familiar-looking implements emerged from Caliban's gullet.

Gwen stared.

"HUURRRRGH! Shaa—SHAA!"

Splat.

Caliban regurgitated a pile of wet, slime-covered hair. Gwen recognised the fist-sized hairball immediately and felt her heart sink.

Tink.

Something else landed on the Transmutation-enhanced pavement.

Her observers shifted their gaze toward the pile on the floor.

"Gwen," Petra called out, "don't touch that!"

"Mage Hand!" Magister Wen retrieved the object from the floor. A ring.

"Careful now, it's Warded," Wen warned. "Very potent as well."

It took Gwen a moment to realise what she was seeing.

A storage ring.

Nephres Zaalam's large storage ring.

Chapter six

This Far, No Further

“Petra, run a Dispel on this thing," Magister Wen commanded.

Petra approached the hovering ring eagerly, once again donning her diagnostic goggles. "A Pentagrammic Ward," she announced after a few seconds of focused observation. "It's a western style protection algorithm, Master. Outdated by at least a decade."

"I'd hardly think Nephres Zaalam was living large in the first world. Someone likely warded it for her some time ago."

"It's rigged to destroy the pocket dimension." Petra prodded the illusory glyphs, which only she could see. "Master, I am not confident enough to Dispel something of this level without risking the contents."

"I would very much like to see the contents of that ring." Gwen glanced again at the pile of hair on the floor before speaking with great care. "It may be of significance to Magus Shultz and me."

"Your ring, your discretion," Magister Wen said. "Let's see the warding first. Petra, I'll take over."

Gwen had never seen a Dispel performed on an enchanted object before. She activated her meagre Detect Magic, just making out the vague shapes of glyphs. Magister Wen pulled tendrils of energy away, like a woman meticulously picking away a clump of tangled twines for the loose string that would unravel the whole knot.

After a few more minutes, the Magister held the storage ring in her hand, its warding negated. "Here." She tossed it toward Gwen. "Your spoils."

That Magister Wen had not checked the contents of the ring first herself struck Gwen as an incredibly generous feat. Was it because her earlier speech had engendered enough rapport to allow for mutual respect? She found that unlikely. There had been a palpable distance between them even as they embraced.

Perhaps it was decorum? After all, the loot was from her enemy, whom she’d murdered, and now retrieved from her Familiar's gullet. Offering to unlock a chest didn't mean one could peek or keep what was inside it. To do so would be violating the unspoken norm. Perhaps one of Gwen's companions might have issued a challenge for the ring, but certainly not someone as unrelated as Wen herself.

"The warding…" Gwen tested the Magister's intention.

"Is dispelled; a trivial matter," Magister Wen informed her. "An outdated formulae indeed. Likely a Rogue Enchanter. It's not like those Wildland exiles could attend the latest International Conference on Advanced Warding Algorithms and Mandalas."

The group watched as Gwen donned the ring. She wore her Contingency Ring on her left ring finger, her Ring of Evasion on her right, her medium storage ring on her left index finger, and now her new ring on her right index.

A few more rings and she could rival Mayuree.

In general, Mages seldom wore more than one storage ring. The larger the ring, the more mana was required to stow items of a particular size and density. Therefore, a large storage ring was usually enjoyed by those with significant mana pools, such as a senior Magus or a Magister.

Gwen made a note to give her opa's ring to Richard, who had a modest storage ring. Her cousin would keep her keepsake safe, make good use of it, and return it to her in good time.

"Caliban, anything else you got in there?" Gwen picked up her obsidian serpent with some effort, hugged it to her chest, and then gave it a mighty squeeze, pondering if a Heimlich manoeuvre could coax some more mysterious items from its gullet.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban wiggled happily in her arms. Her empathic link told her that it enjoyed being hugged and smooshed. To prove her point, a rude tentacle attempted to give her a lick, splattering grey goo as it wiggled back and forth.

The rest of her party stepped back politely.

Gwen took a moment to collect twenty or so inscribed implements. When Gwen examined a slimy dagger, she realised that they were without pommels or handles, allowing the blades to interlock like scales when controlled en-masse.

"Let's complete our investigation before you inspect that ring," Magister Wen advised impatiently. "I hope that break was enough for you to catch your breath."

"I am ready." Gwen turned her attention back to the task at hand. Petra handed her the final spell cube.

"Be careful. You're draining your vitality now, right?” Petra asked.

Gwen nodded, then placed both hands on the crystalline cube. The cube began to fill.

Gwen gasped, shivering as she sought to endure the ice in her veins. The skin on her arm, torso and legs turned clammy and cold with sickly sweat. The complexion of her hands took on the hue of ash. Vertigo, like when she’d found herself alone and afraid in Hyde Park, made her body weightless.

"Oh, gods…" Gwen moaned, feeling the strength fade from her arms, refuting the command from her mind. the half-filled cube fell from her hands.

"Shaa!" Caliban slithered back and forth with agitation, its limited cognisance preventing it from meaningful action.

Petra caught Gwen by the shoulder, suddenly drunk on deathly liquor.

"Gwen! Restoration!" Klavdiya's Restoration struck her granddaughter, dispelling the Negative Energy consuming her life force. Magus Kumiko's healing spell came next, restoring her to lucidity as Positive Energy flooded her mana channels and revitalised her cold flesh. Gwen gasped for air and her eyes regained their focus.

"You've pushed yourself too far!" Her babulya took her frigid hands and warmed them between her palms.

"I am all right." Gwen leaned on her elbows, feeling the crystals digging into her flesh. "Thanks for the pick-me-up, Pats, Babulya, Magus Kumiko."

"Looks like that's your limit." Magister Wen ticked off a set of data on her slate. "I would be cautious, Gwen. If you inundate your body with excessive Negative Energy, permanent damage to your mana channels will be the least of your worries. Still. Very good, Gwen. I'll run these numbers and generate the numeric indices for you."

Her babulya pulled Gwen beside her protectively. "I hope we're done, Marie." Her voice had taken on a tone of distinct displeasure.

"Are we?" Magister Wen smiled. "I don't want to see Gwen hurt either, Klavdiya. But that doesn't mean I can infer her limits with guesses. Our actions are for her benefit as well. You of all people should know there are sacrifices for knowledge."

Gwen's grandmother knitted her brows, looking pensive. Gwen wondered if she regretted her consent. "I am sorry, Babulya," Gwen said. "Magister Wen is trying to help… in her way."

"Then I am sorry too." Her grandmother brushed a stray strand of hair from the arch of Gwen's cheekbones. She sighed defeatedly. "I understand, but it doesn't mean I wish it on my dearest grandchild."

The vast space of the oversized training hall made the moment bleaker.

"Shall we check the contents of the ring?" Gwen took the opportunity to pivot toward a pleasant distraction. Before the others answered, she swept her consciousness over Zalaam's—or rather—her new large storage ring, sensing it attune to her mana signature.

"I will now display its contents," Gwen announced. No one had demanded to see the ring's inventory, but she had read the curiosity in their eyes the moment the ring had tinked on the tiles.

Six banded metal boxes, elongated and rectangular, materialised beside her boots. She knelt, flipped the clasp, and then released the catch. A row of neatly embedded HDM crystal currency cards appeared. One hundred HDM in a row of ten. One thousand HDMs per box. Six thousand in total.

Gwen decided to split this with her party, especially Lulan and Richard, who could most definitely use the money. She then moved to the side, unleashing a knee-high pile of raw, unprocessed HDM and LDM crystals. If she had to ballpark, she'd guess about a thousand HDMs.

The director and the Magister exchanged glances.

Gwen moved on. A box of twenty-four healing injectors, still wrapped in cardboard packaging, appeared. A second box materialised, half-used. A crate of assorted potions.

"Oh!" Petra interrupted her cousin's selfless show and tell. "A Potion of Invisibility!"

"An item high on the list of alchemical contrabands," Gwen's babulya warned. "You should be very careful, Gwen. Hide or destroy it, but don't let anyone know you have it. Present company accepted, I would hope."

Gwen nodded, putting the crystal-clear potion aside for now. Magus Kumiko squirmed when Gwen's babulya shot her a sideways glance.

Next, her mind brushed over something substantial.

THUNK!

A crystal core the size of a medium-sized sofa materialised beside Gwen after consuming almost a quarter of her mana. An average Mage with only fifty VMI wouldn't even be able to store or retrieve the core. The higher the density, the greater the weight, the more magically inclined, and the higher the cost of an item's storage and retrieval.

"A Shielding Stone?" Magister Wen was the first to recognise the crystal core.

The Tower had criteria for the size, purity and clarity of cores, which were used to create resonance shields that could ward away Wildland beings and creatures. A deep-earth crystal mine generally only produced enough condensed cores to supply two to three shielding stations.

"Now, this is a rather dire development." Klavdiya stepped around the core. "Gwen, I don't suppose you have anything else in there that can pinpoint to whom this core is supposed to be delivered?"

Gwen took a few moments to scan the rest of the ring, then shook her head.

Next, she produced several crates of minerals in interesting hues. Her babulya's brows furrowed. "Five-Stone Powder." Her voice was very serious. "What else have you got in there?"

"That's a highly illicit alchemical product." Petra glanced at the ring on Gwen's finger worriedly. "Distribution carries a death sentence under the CCP."

Five-Stone Powder was a concoction made by Taoist alchemists from an infusion of ground realgar, sulphur, turquoise, ochre and amethyst. Each of the stones possessed elemental attributes. When catalysed by an injection of mercury, it created a highly addictive Affinity booster that considerably raised one's connection to the Elemental Planes for a short period. The downside was the potential for temporary insanity often caused in those vulnerable to mind-altering effects. As with all boosters, there were significant costs once the body acclimatised to the dosage.

Gwen brought out everything else of interest within the ring. Shoes. Clothes.

Dresses. Intimates. Cosmetics. Things that reminded her poignantly that the ring's previous owner hadn’t just been nutrient for Caliban. She’d been human. A person. A being who pursued the wild beauty of life, even if she had erred on the wrong side of their morality spectrum.

Silently, Gwen laughed at herself. In six days, she would follow in Elizabeth's proud footsteps. There would be a man condemned to die, and she would take his life in the most repugnant way possible. We're such fucking hypocrites, Gwen cursed herself. For a second, she fantasised about yanking the ring from her fingers and tossing it away like a fat spider.

"When I was on the Frontier, I found a shield station with the stone taken out." Gwen redirected her mind, thinking back to her misadventure with Debora and company. "Later on, Gunther told me that the same stone was used to cause a frequency overload that detonated and destroyed the outer segment of Sydney's Shielding Wall."

"I see. Rest assured, that would not happen here. Keep the currency and the crystals. The potions, too, including the Invisibility one," Magister Wen advised. "As for the stone and the reagents for the powder, I will have to get the dean to contact the MSS. It looks like there's much more going on at D-109 than any of us thought."

Gwen thought of Secretariat Choi's beady, weaselly eyes. "Hasn't Uncle Jun taken care of the admin there?"

"I wouldn't know, dear. That's bureau business." Klavdiya didn’t take the conversation any further. "Your grandfather usually deals with the aftermath of Jun's work. Speaking of which, Jun would like to speak to you sometime soon. He wants to chat with you regarding all of this."

"All right, Babulya, I'll call him," Gwen said. Circling the perimeter of the ill-gotten loot, she packed away her plunder, leaving behind the crystal core and the cargo of illicit reagents.

"How do you feel now?" Petra asked Gwen as she exercised the capacity of her new ring, distracting herself from her inner turmoil.

"I am good," Gwen replied, a careless white lie she doubted anyone believed.

"Hungry?"

Gwen touched a hand to her diaphragm. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I am ready," Magus Kumiko announced eagerly. "Bring Caliban into the Force Cage. Let's get you some vitality to ease you through the week."

Gwen was about to oblige when Magister Wen obstructed her. "Perhaps this is an opportunity to test exactly how addictive your desire for satiation may become. You can safely experience if it impacts your thoughts, your physiology, or make voracious a particular appetite, for food or otherwise."

When her babulya rose to protest, the Magister cut her off. "Gwen lives only a few minutes away. Should anything arise, both Kumiko and I can be made available immediately. She will be perfectly safe."

"Still, that's a little rushed, don't you think?" Klavdiya said. "She's only consumed a dozen beasties and a single… woman."

The awkwardness lingered like a floating feather.

"Gwen," Magister Wen said. "As I said, it's your talent, your body."

Gwen pondered the proposal. There was a certain gratification in getting these questions about herself off her chest. Whatever mechanic or trait her hunger would induce, there was no benefit in entertaining ignorance. "I am curious as well. I'll be all right, Babulya. Petra is with me as well. Let's give it a few days and see how it goes. As we say in the Frontier, she'll be right."

Klavdiya only nodded at her commitment.

"Master," Petra said as she stood by Gwen's side, "if you think we're finished for the day, then I wish to take Gwen home to rest. We have classes tomorrow."

"Very well," Wen concurred. "Gwen had consented to human trials, and we had gained invaluable data regarding the mechanical operations of the Void as an element. All that is left is to test the breadth and scope of the Void's impact on sentient and sapient beings, not to mention the caster herself. Rest well."

Klavdiya affirmed the consensus. "Rest well, child. Magister Wen and I will be going over your data. Some must be submitted to the committees to facilitate your next experiment."

Gwen nodded sadly at her grandmother. Sweet Saint Peter, she thought. We haven't even done the deed and our minds are already reeling from reality. For a second, Gwen wondered how Wen was coping with it, but one look at the apple-pink cheeks of her "instructor" told her everything she needed to know.

Watching the trio close the door behind them, Klavdiya turned to Wen. "You're really doing this?"

The two women met one another's eyes. "Yes. We are doing this."

"Marie, I respect you as a friend and colleague, but I won't forgive you if—"

"You can't keep Gwen under a rock forever," Magister Wen scoffed. "Someone's bound to dig her up and try to take her away. Would you rather she was taken kicking and screaming? Will you fight the world? Will Guo? At least with us, she gets to walk her path."

"A difficult path for one so young." Klavdiya studied the age lines on her hands, the most telling part of her body, feeling her age. "So many ways this could go wrong."

"What's the recourse? You could send her back to Sydney. I know you've got connections within the Foreign Affairs Committee. Now's the chance before the powers that be get involved. Send her away. Do it."

"Don't test me, Marie."

"Sorry." Wen's tone softened.

"I am sorry too. This business doesn't sit well with me." Klavdiya sighed.

"She'll be looked after. Eyes are watching."

"What's the news from on high?"

"Both Towers have promised to remain observers for now. But you know how it is. Guo survived the Second Purge, didn't he? Promises are only kept when practical and convenient. When did the CCP ever play by the rules? Only when it suits."

Klavdiya studied her hands. "How far do you intend to take this?"

"As far as she is willing."

"And if she is as strong as Shultz promised?"

Magister Wen's eager eyes had an ethereal, unsettling glow to them. One that was not empowered by any magic or mana but by conviction, belief and faith. "What if we create an Omni-Mage?"

"There's no such thing!" Klavdiya retorted cynically. "The deities are just planar creatures and god-kings, killable and mortal."

"Ha-ha!" Magister Wen laughed. "I should have expected such an answer from a godless Communist hospital director. Imagine, Klavdiya, a being who can tap into every School of Magic and whose ability allowed herself to steal from others the Essence of life." Wen's face became as pink as pippins. "Yet this Übermensch is thinking, benevolent, and full of altruism and compassion. How do you suppose history will perceive such a being?"

"I can't judge that."

The two women stood side by side.

"Will you go see Secretariat Shi now?" Klavdiya asked.

"Yes," Wen said. "Yourself?"

"I'll go see Dean Luo," Klavdiya answered. "He has to be involved for a test of such ethical ambiguity."

"Do you want me to perform the background check on our hapless participant?" Wen asked.

"We'll both do it." Klavdiya did not trust her friend at this junction. "I will brook no mistakes. I'll not have Gwen become a murderer of innocents."

With her final words, the Director of the PLA Second Hospital left the premises.

Magister Wen watched her peer close the door behind her, clearly entered by the task ahead of them. The elderly scholar took a stroll around the empty hall, stopping by the crystalline Warding, then strolled past Kumiko's defunct Summoning Circle.

Her mind brushed over the eight or so cubes stowed in her ring, brimming with Void matter. There was so much to analyse, so much data. Surely, after becoming the saviour of all Void Mages, there would be a possibility of Meisterhood for herself.

"Kilroy and Sobel…" Wen muttered to herself, her tone akin to one reciting a mantra. "And now Gwen. How strange is the way of karma."

"Oh, I've still got a beggar's chicken in my ring," Gwen said when she and Petra entered the apartment. "I'll give it to Babulya next time."

The pocket space of storage rings differed from one Enchanter to another. Her opa's master-crafted ring held non-magical items in stasis but allowed for thermodynamic changes. Hot food cooled, and cold stuff returned to room temperature. Curiously, non-magical food did not spoil, but mana-rich foodstuff did. As for her new ring, she would have to see what it did.

If she needed it, there were Absolute Stasis Rings, but those were ten times more expensive and used only by Alchemists and other professionals who dealt with fresh Wildland produce.

Though the clock only struck six, the summer sun glared fiercely into the apartment. The shut windows trapped the heat, making the two-bedder stuffy and uncomfortable.

Petra located the wall panel and punched a few glyphs into the climate control, activating the cooling glyphs inscribed into the ducting. As fresh air began to circulate the room, Petra made herself comfortable, then pulled out a bundle of pamphlets for local takeout.

"How hungry?" Petra enquired.

"Famished," Gwen replied. "The usual."

Petra Messaged the local Vietnamese restaurant and ordered enough for a family of four, prioritising soupy comfort food in the form of pho and rice rolls.

While they waited, Gwen checked the LRC Device for any replies. There was exactly one Message waiting for her.

"Elvia away on mission. Will return next week—SS," read a message.

SS? Gwen took a moment to realise it likely stood for Sylvie Stratford, Elvia's roommate.

Gwen turned on the vid-caster and checked the news.

"Prime Minister Tony Blair speaks out against the influx of migrants seeking access to London from the Frontier regions. Riding on a wave of anti-immigration movement and focusing on the internal development of the Britannic Mageocracy, the Prime Minister has successfully rallied—"

Click.

"The US and British Coalition expedition have ignored suggestions from the United Nations to push ahead with the retaking of regions lost to the Fire Sea, angering demi-human tribes in the Frontier region—”

Click.

Gwen switched to BBC Pudong.

"On the Northern Front, a new Undead Tide has emerged from Pyongyang, threatening Seoul and the Chinese port city of Dalian. In response, the United States held tripartite talks in Beijing on April 23 to 25. Multi-party negotiations with Seoul, Moscow and Tokyo to discuss aid stalled when the United States refused to give up interests in the South China Sea. The Central Committee has since withdrawn its support for an alliance, citing territorial tensions with Japan and South Korea—“

Click.

Gwen turned off the vid-cast. Just like in her old world, the news cycle was pure depression. The more one obsessed with the news, the more one understood that all was not right with the world and that things got worse.

At least in this world, without the internet, things like “fake” news had yet to become the norm.

The doorbell rang. Petra took delivery and the two girls sat down to eat, making small talk as they picked through the food. Petra stopped after one bowl of noodle soup, then watched as Gwen patiently packed away two bowls of soup, one serving of salad, half a dozen spring rolls, and a coconut sago pudding.

Gwen still had no idea where her food went. Her body absorbed it all. Her stomach could be so full as to be painful one moment, then fifteen minutes later, she was hungry again. When she’d discussed it with her babulya, the director had told her to consume more Wildland produce rich in mana and vitality.

"With the amount you're eating, if you overeat NoM foodstuff, you will get a very upset stomach. The human digestive system can only take so much, dear. You're not a Minotaur. Did you know they have four stomachs?"

Gwen could see where babulya was going. NoM food made her bloat.

After the meal, Gwen sat in a food coma for about half an hour, feeling infused with warmth. As her metabolism cooled, however, the hunger returned.

An addiction to Consume.

In her old world, addictions were an abstraction. There was always a gateway moment—a harmless bit of fun. Maybe a joint of weed at a party or a pill at a rave. Then harder drugs followed. Gwen might have been a problematic wreck in her teenage years, but she’d known better than to be sucked into that particular vortex. As a professional money maker, she’d had prescriptions to guide her foray into pharmaceuticals. When the Prozac she’d been prescribed had lost its edge, it had been replaced by its more potent cousin with half the half-life, Cipralex. That had been fun.

"Goodnight, Gwen."

"Night, Pats."

Once alone on her bed, Gwen scanned her new storage ring. In the morning, she would give the daggers back to Kusu, then split her loot with Lulan, Mia, Kitty and Richard.

Sweeping her hand across her bedsheet, she produced three data slates she had omitted from her show and tell. Glancing at the door, she picked up the carbon-coloured slate, checked its crystal battery, and then activated the device. Unlike the intelligent machines of her Information Age, the slates were glorified notebooks whose surface could be turned into parchment, then inscribed and stowed. Most were American-made, though China's manufacturing sector had long since appropriated the device, defying protests from the American Towers.

The familiar sight of tables and numbers appeared on the first slate. Gwen quickly scrolled through the sheets, over three hundred in total.

"Accounts paid… Accounts received… Inventory…"

The invoice segment made her eyes light up. It was a treasure trove of potential information, even if the client details were filled in with code, with annotations such as “E.M203-HZ45-003".

The second slate proved to be an inventory of business matters within D-109 itself. Through its details, Gwen spotted several instances where the recipient of casements of Five Stone Power, Mage stock, or crystals was explicitly addressed to Secretariat Choi.

Good, she thought. More fuel for the fire.

The third data slate displayed a profile page in a format familiar to her. There was the rectangular passport photo headshot. What sent shivers up her spine was that she was looking at a picture of herself.

Gwen Song

Public Practice of Magic ID: 9840598 001

Hair: Warm brown

Eyes: Hazel

Height: 181 cm

Race: Eurasian

Father: Hai Song

Mother: Helena Huang

Notable Members of the Family:

Guo Song, MSS Committee Chair.

Klavdiya Song, Director 2nd PLA Experimental Hospital.

Jun Song, Captain, PLA. Grey Ghost (retired)

SoM: Evocation (Min), Conjuration (Maj)

Elemental: Lightning/Void

Magic Class Permit: (A)

The data on the document was familiar because she had seen it before. It was what her grandmother had handed to Dean Luo. Gwen produced the carbon copy from her storage ring, then felt her jaws set grimly as the details and formatting matched perfectly.

What does this mean? The incomplete data sheet raised more questions than it answered. Why would Nephres Zalaam have access to something like this? A document such as this could have gotten away from Fudan's archive only if someone deliberately disseminated it. If so, why had her extended spell schools been removed? Especially as her dual-elemental talent was gloriously displayed.

Her head throbbed. She didn't want to think. She just wanted everything to go away. Luckily, there was a person she could count on for that to happen.

With a few touches of her Message device, Gwen made the call. "Uncle Jun?"

"Gwen? What a pleasant surprise! I wasn't expecting a call until next week. How are you? Did the examinations go well?"

"They did. Thank you, Uncle Jun," Gwen replied. "Listen, I've come into possession of Nephres Zaalam's storage ring, and there's some fascinating accounting information she'd kept which I think will be of interest to you involving her dealing in the city and with Secretariat Choi. Do you have time to talk?"

Chapter seven

Nighthawks

Acontemplative silence lingered between the two Message devices.

Gwen could imagine Jun having two expressions: one where he pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked up at the ceiling, another where he grinned confidently, unfazed. What she didn't know was which expression the man currently used. She had to admit that the first impression was something more readily attributed to her father, and Jun was the opposite of Morye-Hai Song.

"Where are you now?"

"I am at the apartment."

"Are you free to meet up? I am still processing Choi's case. If what you say is true, there will be a lot of trouble for Secretariat Choi and another round of CCs for our little spook."

"It's entirely accidental." Gwen chuckled at her new moniker as a femme fatale. "I can come out now. I'll let Petra know."

"Maybe she should escort you?"

"That's going to be awkward," Gwen said. "I hid the slates from her Master earlier."

"Petra's a good girl. She wouldn't have minded, I am sure."

"I was more afraid there would be sensitive material in there. I trust Petra, but we have an understanding. I don't want her to act against her Master's interests, not when we can avoid the issue altogether."

"Well, as a loyal member of the PLA, I must have misheard just now. Where do you want to meet?"

"Do you know a cafe called Caffebene? It's on Handan Road."

"I don't, but I'll find it. Is 2040 all right? I'll be leaving from Dachang Airbase. Signing out is going to take some time."

"Sure, I am just three blocks over."

"See you soon."

"See you, Uncle Jun."

Thirty-odd minutes later, Gwen opened her bedroom door. The Shanghai summer was coming on sticky and muggy, with the monsoonal air so humid as to cling to one's skin like a film. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Gwen picked out exercise clothing common on the streets. Seeing that it was late, she added a windbreaker, using its hood to hide her thick ponytail.

She knocked on Petra's door. "I am heading out for a sec. Seeing Uncle Jun for a bit; he wanted to have a pep talk. I'll Message you if anything happens."

Before Petra could emerge, Gwen was gone.

Caffebene was a little, out-of-the-way coffee shop that transformed at night into a dessert bar selling an assortment of cakes. The owner was an NoM young man in his late twenties who liked to follow the latest trends, fancying himself a bit of a fashionista.

He hadn't intended to open the shop for almost sixteen hours a day, but Fudan was a high-rent area with a lively nightlife. Its citizens enjoyed midnight strolls and xiao ye, meaning nighttime snacks, staying up as late as three am, playing cards, making small talk, and trading gossip.

His eyes scanned the horoscope section of the local paper. According to the columnist, they were written by sanctioned Diviners.

There may be a great deal of fuss over something you have thoughts over. Snake, try to see the beauty of everything around you. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Make sure you give enough credit to yourself. Good things await those who are willing to try.

The owner looked about his shop. Empty. What should he try, exactly? Caffebene did not have the best decor, though it was cute and clean. It did not sell the best coffee, though they were marginally cheaper. The chocolate-coffee cake his wife baked, though, was divine.

Should he make the shop into a coffee confectionery instead? What if the heavenly signs were different the following day?

Just as he began to doubt the contents of his horoscope, a figure pushed past the doorway, setting the bell to jingle. When he looked up, he recognised the familiar figure immediately.

Petra Kuznetsova's cousin. Guan something!

There was no one else around Fudan with a more recognisable silhouette. He had seen her jogging around campus every morning for six weeks. Every time she passed with her Mongolian Death Worm, it set the customers’ tongues wagging.

Mao, the girl was stunning, even in casual wear. The owner had to remind himself that he was a happily married, non-magically inclined husband with a wife who could bake like an Enchanter.

"Please sit anywhere you like, miss," the owner's voice choked out, an octave higher than he had intended. She was a celebrity! The word on the street was that she was a one-in-a-million Conjurer. Maybe she could bring business with her. Guan-something's favourite cake!

When the Mongolian Death Worm followed her in, together with a large ferret, the owner cautioned his fantasies. The girl nodded sweetly, her face pallid in the ambient light, her eyes seeking a discreet corner. The owner stared at her as she crossed her legs, looking like a magazine spread.

A strange sensation seemed to engender itself in his chest, a daring thought that he would have never entertained were they not alone in his shop. The visage of his wife dimmed. What was the girl doing out so late and alone anyhow? And what was this strange disorientation he felt? Vertigo? How curious.

The Mongolian Death Worm raised its head.

Tink.

The door opened again, shaking the owner from his thoughts. What is that? His head cleared, the sensation falling away. He could breathe again. He apologised to his spouse in silence, then looked up to greet the new customer.

"Gwen!" the man called out, raising a hand.

"Uncle!" The girl roused from her chair.

"Just us in here, huh?" The new patron turned his attention toward the owner.

This 'uncle' of the girl was a military man. A PLA officer? The owner knew that grunts were forbidden from leaving the barracks after curfew. Only select officers had that sort of leeway. The man wore blue-white military cargo pants that ended in dark leather boots laced far too neatly, with a tight, long-sleeve shirt that moulded around his broad pectorals and tapered waist.

The man moved with cat-like grace.

He threw something toward the owner. The owner caught it. Even as an NoM, he recognised the sliver of crystal. From the feel and weight of it, it was worth three to four HDMs, at least.

"Do you mind locking up for the night? We need privacy," the military man enquired with a tone that inferred this was not a request. "That's yours if you do. We can go elsewhere as well. Not to worry."

Who is this guy kidding? On a quiet night like this, the owner knew he was lucky to make half of what he'd been given. He sold coffee and cakes, for Mao's sake, not banquets.

"Sure thing, boss!" He quickly locked up, switching the sign from “open” to “closed”. "I'll be upstairs, doing accounts and preparing for tomorrow. Help yourself to the fridge. Let me know if you want mixed drinks."

"Gwen, do you want anything? I'll take water."

"Can I have the ten-inch choco-mousse cake?”

The owner reached into the cabinet and was about to cut a slice when the girl spoke again. "The whole cake, sir." The girl blushed, adding a hint of colour to her bloodless cheeks.

"Of course, miss." The owner averted his eyes. With his head freed from that shameful compulsion, he dared not forget himself again. An inner voice of wisdom, possibly from his ancestors, informed him that he should leave the cake, and then he would retreat upstairs and lock the door until the pair was gone.

Uncle Jun’s brow raised half an inch when the cake presented to them was placed on the table with an audible thud. Gwen watched her uncle stare at the icing on the cake.

The owner returned with glasses, a jug of cold water, forks and spoons, serviettes and even a bib, then retreated to some farther room, leaving uncle and niece to themselves.

"First things first." Gwen materialised the data slates and briefly explained what was in Nephres' ring, reiterating her experiences in Sydney and Edgar's incident.

Jun took the slates and carefully read through them one by one. "We know about the powders," Jun murmured as he browsed through the slate with Choi's name written in black and white. "Interesting. The secretariat was doing a little trading with the other leaders of the districts."

"Is that bad?" Gwen enquired. The lost districts were, after all, a semi-autonomous region.

"Oh, yes," Jun replied. "There are no Divination Towers in or near the area, meaning they must run things via some external network. Contact between the various zones is one of the foremost things forbidden in the lost districts. Secretariat Choi and his colleagues will be vacationing at the Sky Prison far longer than they had anticipated."

"Why would he send the slavers against us if Nephres had this much dirt on him?"

Jun shrugged, rolling his broad shoulders. He took a sip from the glass of water Gwen had poured out for him. "You have to understand that when a man like Choi sits like a king on the throne of his little abode for too long, it twists his head. He begins to think that he can do no wrong and that his choices are impeccably wise and immaculately planned. I've seen it all too often, not just in the PLA, but in places in the Frontier when a clan head or an official has all the power. There's madness that comes with having the power of life and death over so many."

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," Gwen chimed in with an adage.

"Yes. Very good, Gwen." Jun stabbed a small corner of the cake and took a bite. "Too sweet."

Gwen had held off out of politeness, but now that Jun had dug in, she was free to ravage the remaining 99.9% of the sugary treat.

"Choi is the blister and boil that inevitably appears when a beast as large as the CCP, with its PLA, holds so much power over every aspect of the citizens' lives. An interesting Chinese saying covers it well: the district bureaucrat is greedy for money, the regional bureaucrat is greedy for power, the state bureaucrat is greedy for stability, and the emperor is greedy for immortality. I guess Choi never graduated past the first rung. As for where all the money goes, let's say the vine extends far up the trunk."

Gwen nodded, her cheeks filling like a chipmunk's.

Jun watched her face, humoured by her self-professed ease in his presence. He looked through the third slate, the one with the student profiles.

"This one has our student records on it. I think they leaked from Fudan."

Her uncle paused at the profiles. "Incomplete. How curious."

"What do you think, Uncle Jun?"

Jun stowed away the slates in his storage ring. "Bait."

"Bait?"

Jun nodded. "I've seen that profile iMage. I think Mother took it when you first had your biometric Spellcraft measurements done. The only people who would have access to that specific iMage are your grandmother and the Fudan Administration Office, though I suppose Dean Luo could have had a copy. It's not the iMage used on your student ID. It's the one on your original application."

"How do you suppose Nephres Zalaam got a hold of it?"

"Do you want to know?"

"Do I…" Gwen read her uncle's eyes. Sometimes a little bliss was better than having too much knowledge. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. "I do."

"Wen gave Choi the records. Not an unusual thing, mind you. Quite within the expected standard of things. What's interesting is why there are omittances."

"Of my other schools?”

Jun chuckled. "Gwen, let me give you some advice. It would be best if you learned to open your eyes beyond your immediate world. Your record was incomplete, sure, but it remains an impressive read. Void, Lightning, two Schools of Magic, how wonderous and powerful! If I were in the trafficking trade, you would be a prize beyond compare—absolutely worth the risks of the Tower's and the PLA's ire! What's missing, then, is not your record."

Gwen scanned her memory of the others' records. Besides Kitty's profile, Mayuree and Richard's gave away nothing. "The others! They're depicted as nobodies."

"Nothing impressive or dangerous, yes."

"Which means the records were altered to engender temptation for the traffickers." The fog cleared. It all made sense!

"Always look at the whole circumstance. You must see beneath the beneath," Gwen's uncle advised. "You'll get the hang of it."

Gwen's face flushed. In the next second, though, her blood ran cold.

"Magister Wen…"

"Is a woman with an agenda."

That much was evident by now. The Magister had no idea who Nephres was, of course, or her relationship to Elizabeth Sobel or Edgar. Maybe the incident couldn't have been averted, but perhaps it could have. It was all muddled up now.

What was important was that, as Jun stated, the Magister was not her friend. Her designs were her own—Gwen Song was less an individual and more so a Wildland Beast Wen had to fatten up with carrion.

"I see that you now know. Choi told me already. I had a Mind Mage scrape him, though we might have to go deeper now."

Gwen inclined her head solemnly, thinking of the sensation of having someone invade the most private sanctum of your mind. She cut out a generous portion of the cake with her fork and crammed it into her mouth melancholically.

"As for the slate with the code, we have someone specialising in that sort of thing. I'll submit it and see if I can get some more CCs on top of the ones I promised you back in D-109."

That was one piece of good news, at least. Gwen thanked her uncle. CCs helped; she needed to pick up another two to three spells across three different Schools of Magic.

"So, Gwen," Jun began again. "I spoke to Grandmother before I came."

"Oh?"

"She told me about the decision you have reached."

Gwen met her uncle's dark eyes, within which the ambient light of the coffee shop refracted across his cold, charcoal pupils.

"I have to know how to control… my appetite," she said evasively.

"That may be." Jun's face came closer. Gwen could see his biceps balloon as he leaned in, elbows on the desk. "There's a better way, Gwen."

Gwen's fork paused on its way to the chocolate cake. "There is?"

"I think," Jun said carefully, "both you and Mother have been pulled too deeply into Magister Wen's world. That woman cares for nothing other than her data, her papers and her publications. That's what makes her so useful, but also dangerous."

"Then…"

"I understand that you've made a choice, Gwen." Jun's face, identical to her father's, made her queasy. The look of earnest devotion and care on Morye's ever-playful and never-serious face was screwing with her head. "Mark my words. There will be far more prisoners once she gets her initial data."

"I told her we were going as far as our fact-finding mission would take us," Gwen protested, feeling strangely defensive of her choice. It had taken her so much effort and will to make this decision, and now Jun was trying to dissuade her. If there was another choice, what was the point of her splattering blood all over her face to make that decision?

Jun must have caught the defiance in her eyes and put up a hand in protest.

"Whoa there, let me finish. Mao, you're like my mother in that regard. Once you set your head around something…"

Gwen stabbed the cake a little more violently than she'd intended.

"This is what's so dangerous about Magister Wen. The woman is offering you extremes delivered in logical and reasonable terms. There's no compromise. Tell me, Gwen, do you believe consuming another being would help your present condition?"

Gwen wanted to say yes.

"Do you believe you cannot control your appetite?"

She had no idea.

"Do you think consuming more people would make it easier for your future endeavours? That you will fundamentally change the nature of an element because of applied academia and repetition? That after the tenth victim, things will be different?"

Gwen honestly had no answer to that. Perhaps Magister Wen did.

"Can you not be satiated with Magical beasts? Do they not possess Essence, vitality and mana? Since when did the Void specialise in cannibalism? You think the PLA will leave you alone after that?"

"I could… maybe…" The impeccable logical scaffold constructed by Magister Wen floundered under Jun's assault.

"But knowledge is a necessity. Knowledge is control, especially as it may not be possible to avoid your condition," Jun continued. "I think there is a compromise here. I'll speak with Mother, and we'll figure something out. Get your puzzle piece, Gwen. A man will die. But Magister Wen will also know she can't just walk all over you."

Gwen felt a fuzzy feeling in her chest. It was nice to know that her uncle cared. She had not experienced that in her old world; not even a liberal dose of Cipralex could dispel her anxiety so readily.

"So here's what I am proposing," Jun folded his arms. "After your end-of-semester exams, you and I are going on a little trip."

"A trip? Where to?"

"An undisclosed region outside the capital city, a little way from Anhui, a Purple Zone."

"Oh?"

"Have you heard of the Huangshan Mountains before?"

Gwen nodded. The Yellow Mountain was one of China's five great mountain ranges, famed for its cloud-covered precipices jutting out from the cloud bank into the heavens. With its unusually high tree line, the mountain served as the visual inspiration for calligraphic silkscreen paintings.

"Good, then you should know that a Yinglong roams those ranges."

"I didn't know that," she confessed, then added embarrassingly, "What's a Yinglong?"

Jun chuckled. "In the Analects of the Mountain and the Seas, Gou-Pu described the Yinglong as a creature of up to seven li long. It is one of the first Chinese Dragons, most famous for his service to the Yellow Emperor, aiding him in the Battle of Zhuolu when he fought against the tyrannical Spirit King Chiyou.

“Named the Great Responding Dragon, the Yinglong would create a great storm to flush out the emperor's enemies. When the wind and rain deities, Feng Bo and Yu Shi, were causing problems, the Yellow Emperor summoned his daughter, the Drought Goddess, Ba, to silence them, allowing the Yinglong to unleash a storm. In the capture of Chiyou, the Yinglong hate him."

"That sounds mystical." Gwen felt her uncle wasn't very realistic. Then again, she reminded herself that Amuldj was several li long. "What are we going to do?"

"Not be eaten by the Yinglong, hopefully." Jun laughed. "I will give you some training, and you will discover a detour away from your current conundrum."

"How so?"

"Well, Dragons are wanton creatures of lust and when they inhabit a mountain region—"

"They have sex with everything!" Gwen blurted out, having heard it from her Bestiary trainer, Hufei.

Now it was Jun's turn to look flustered. "Well, yes, very good." Her uncle coughed. "We'll go to Huangshan and get you some Dragon babies."

"You expect me to dance the horizontal tango with a Yinglong?" Gwen gulped, wondering where this was going. Could a human even become the concubine of a Yinglong? What a suggestion! Was she going to return to Shanghai bearing an egg of some sort? Gods! How did the physiology of that sort of thing even work? Is there a Polymorph involved? Her voice took on a keener edge. Not even Amuldj would… Ergh! Unthinkable! "I don't think I am willing to go that far."

Jun stared at his niece for several awkward seconds, then broke into a rip-roaring snort of laughter.

"Uncle Jun…"

"No, you silly goose!" Jun rapped Gwen across the forehead. "We're going poaching."

"P-poaching?"

"Yes!" Jun snorted. "The Dragon's Essence infuses everything that walks, swims and flies, right? To use some western Spellcraft terminology, the Yinglong is specifically a Dragon of the air, water and Positive Energy. You get me?"

"Blue Dragon spawns." Gwen realised what Jun was suggesting.

"Indeed." Jun chuckled. "You and I, we're going to try and find you a Lightning Spirit. And collect Lightning Creature Cores. There's a whole mountain of spawns there. They're a plague!"

"Is it safe to hunt them?"

"Of course not!" Jun laughed. "Very dangerous, but I'll convince Mother one way or another. She'll see the need for it. In my opinion, Lightning should be your primary element. Let Void be supplementary. Some of the most powerful Magi in history were Lightning Battle Mages."

"But the chances of finding a spirit are so slim." Gwen wanted to say that they could be killing hundreds of Draconic spawns and it wouldn't be strange not to see a single core, much less a spirit. Not to mention a significant battle would surely attract the Yinglong.

"Oh ho, ho." Jun reached into his shirt and pulled out a familiar-looking heirloom keepsake.

Gwen's eyes widened. The second half of the Kirin pendant!

"There'll be no luck needed to find some cores." Jun grinned, showing the whites of his teeth. "All we need to do is survive."

"I see." Gwen's voice shivered. "A third path."

Her father's smiling face gazed back at Gwen, sending her bosom aflutter with unspeakable emotions.

"Who says that the Void is be-all and end-all? Why not build yourself up to oppose this Elizabeth Sobel with the one thing that would counter her? Why not… how do you say this? The second coming of Thor? The Nordic god of Lighting?"

"It's the second coming of the Nazarene," Gwen couldn't stop smiling.

Her chest rose and fell with anticipation. With a longing that she didn't know existed, she reached out and took Jun's rough fingers in her palm. "I'll do it, Uncle Jun!" she proclaimed with bright eye, her faith renewed. To express her confidence, she violently stabbed the cake with her fork. "For Dragon babies, I'll do anything!"

Chapter eight

Great Anticipation

Gwen promised Jun to keep the entirety of week fourteen of the semester open. Her final was in week thirteen, mid-September. After that, she could be away with Jun on their elemental poaching adventure.

What remained then was seven more weeks of the academic term, that and Gwen's impending trial by fire with the prisoner.

As for her impending trial-by-murder, that morbid reality remained immutable. As a future Battle Mage, Gwen couldn't risk becoming burdened by unknowns when the well-being of loved ones was at stake. She was thankful that Jun had offered a detour. If nothing else, the inhumane methodology required to feed her talent was no longer an albatross strung across her chest.

At the same time, her euphoria was joined by despondency. In taking Uncle Jun's guiding hand, she was reminded that neither her father nor mother had enquired after her since the semester began. It was no surprise, but the silence cut like a rusty razor. Her parents, in this life or the last, remained carefree in pursuing their individual happiness. As an adult, she couldn't blame them for that. Wasn't she also reaching out for that orgiastic green light across the bay? She was going so far as to murder a man to see how her brain ticked.

When she returned to the apartment, Petra's lights were out. Gwen hovered by the door apologetically for a few seconds, then left. She would rather not trouble Petra if Magister Wen was buttressing her agendas behind her and their babulya's backs. Her cousin's loyalties would be unnecessarily conflicted, especially as she already had a history with another Master in Moscow. If Petra should abandon yet another instructor, it was unlikely she would ever be apprenticed by a third. As Jun had said, Magister Wen provided a service and Gwen provided materials. It was an even trade. She was fine as long as she did not misunderstand that their relationship extended beyond give and take.

She wondered what Wen thought of Petra. Would the old academic risk her life to shelter her Mineral Magic apprentice?

Gwen struggled out of her casual clothes and slipped into bed, sliding between the silken sheets. "One Evee, two Evee, three…"

After a night of staring at the ceiling, she finally felt the coming of blissful, restful sleep.

Kusu stared at the twenty-odd implements in front of him. "How?"

"I don't know," Gwen said, making a hugging motion with her arms. "I squeezed Caliban real hard, and there they were."

"Brother, what a fortunate outcome!" Lulan gushed beside her sibling, hugging the young man's arm.

Gwen had met the duo in Mayuree's apartment, where she’d presented the loot of crystals from Nephres to her four companions. Kitty took her share of the fourteen hundred HDMs without blinking, swiping her hand across the stash and dematerialising the cards with absolute certainty.

Mayuree refused, saying she really had no need for HDMs, that it was barely pocket change to her. When Gwen insisted, she threatened to spend it all on shoes unless she or the siblings were willing to partake in her generosity.

More arguments ensued, each party trying to outdo the other in modesty.

In the end, Gwen split the surplus three ways, giving herself, Richard and Lulan Eighteen hundred and sixty HDMs per head. Kitty looked as though she was going to speak up about her share of the surplus, but a frown from Mayuree turned her intentions awry, leaving her sulking by the window.

"Thank you." The troublemaker appeared shocked she would receive such a generous portion of the spoils. "Thank all of you!"

"This means we can take up the vacancy in building fourteen," Kusu added with clear relief. "Your aid couldn't have come at a better time."

"Lulan did all the hard work." Gwen pictured the two scenes of carnage leading in and out of the tunnel section. The expression on the Abjurer's face as Lulan had crushed his shield and sent his head flying was an unneeded Kodak moment. "B14? That's close to us. Nicely done."

Lulan beamed.

Kusu incanted something under his breath, and the daggers began to float.

Was it magnetism? Or was it a combination of Levitation and some other secret magic algorithm? She had read that there was a Transmutation spell called Dancing Blade at tier IV that allowed one to command an unattended blade to attack, parry and defend on its own. Perhaps Kusu's Huashan Sword Magic was akin to this phenomenon.

"Still works!" Kusu announced, his face relaxing. "Thank you, Miss Song."

"Just Gwen," Gwen insisted. "Caliban did Consume your other daggers. Maybe they're in there somewhere."

"What you have returned is already several months of my work," Kusu bowed, then a little sheepishly, he added, “Gwen. I wouldn't dream of demanding more than that. Whatever else Caliban can retrieve, I leave it entirely to its discretion."

Kusu was an unusual clanner. Gwen nodded at the young man's diplomacy. Losing him was most definitely a bad deal for Huashan.

With the siblings taken care of, it was time for her to attend her classes again. If there was an unexpected benefit to Magister Wen's leeching of her Void matter, it was the loss of her Healer's aura. Now bereft of her excess vitality, she could resume life as Petra's “hot cousin” and not a fount of wellbeing that drew eyes like a second sun.

"I am off!" she informed the others, turning on her flats and calling for her Familiars. "Message me if anything comes up."

The others, Kitty notwithstanding, waved goodbye to Gwen's much-improved mood.

Conjuration was first, with Birch directing Gwen and her Familiars to their usual place in the front row.

"Gwen!" Lily, her fellow Conjurer, hailed her from across the room. "Wait up.”

“Hi, guys," Gwen greeted Lily and Pu of the unfortunate homophone, her peers from Evocation doing a double major in Conjuration.

"How're the districts? I am thinking of taking Management next semester."

"Quite the adventure." Gwen beamed at her acquaintances. "I'll tell you about it after, over luncheon. I am starving already, ha-ha."

"Are you okay?" Pu's eyes ran over her new fashion statement. For the summer, Gwen had layered up in a floral summer dress covered by a nice cream cardigan. Unfortunately, unless she went heavy on foundation, there was no covering up her bruised eyebags and pale, bloodless lips.

"Not enough iron," Gwen explained casually, dismissing Pu's concern. "Nothing a good steak and veg can't fix."

"Shaa!" Caliban nodded at the two.

"Hi, Cali." Lily patted it on the head. Pu kept his distance.

"Eeee!" Ariel whinnied.

Lily took the Marten with her hands and hugged it to her chest. "Oh, so cute!" The girl looked rapturously happy.

"Take a seat. Magister Birch is starting." Gwen moved her Familiars to her left as the other two sat.

Birch soon assumed his place on the podium. "Welcome back, students." He did his usual walk around the elevated platform of the lecture theatre, scanning over the sixty-odd students with his eyes until his gaze rested on Gwen. "We will now begin our new topic—teleportation circles.

"In our earlier lessons, we discussed the problems of translocation. For the next four weeks, we will discuss the single most important use of Conjuration—transporting Mages and other personnel throughout human territories."

"There currently exist three forms of Teleportation: personal, assisted and powered. Personal Teleportation involves translocation by Line of Sight. This includes spells such as Blink from the Transmutation School or Dimension Door from the Conjuration School. Upon manifesting the arcane phenomenon, the Mage is moved through the Astral Plane from one location to another with relative accuracy.

"Assisted Teleportation is translocation assisted by Divination, typically a skill acquired by translocation specialists, requiring a rudimentary knowledge of the School of Divination. By tapping into the Divination Towers' loc-by-loc triangulation, the caster can pinpoint a location for the spell to manifest. Recall your Ludwin-Clarkson formulae: the cost of translocation is proportional to the distance and the baseline cost of invocation. Make a note." Birch paused to take a breath. "In areas without Divination Towers, meaning non-human controlled regions, you will require a Diviner in your party to Teleport to unmarked locations. If you lack a Diviner, this can be offset by employing a Ranger Class operative. Typically, this is a Transmuter with Polymorph or an Illusionist with Improved Invisibility, who can plant translocation beacons."

"Finally, Powered Teleportation, such as that used by the Inter-State Teleportation Circle, commonly abbreviated as the ISTC, is connected by long-range Divination Stations. Rather than using the Mage's mana, these circles are empowered by HDM stores embedded within the mandala. Access to ISTC stations is heavily restricted, typically only utilised for military troop movement, or with a permit to visit other countries and inter-city Towers."

Gwen made a note to learn Teleportation Circle as soon as possible. The utility of the spell felt endless. If she could utilise her jack-of-all-trades talents, she could provide the party with the means of offence, defence and extraction. All she had to do was pick up some formal training in rudimentary Divination about the Message spells and the use of the Divination Towers.

"Now, the intricacies of the Teleportation Circle."

Gwen's ears perked up.

"The baseline mandala, available from the public library, is the Ludwin-Clarkson Octogramic Containment Circulation glyph. The preceding layers vary from caster to caster, though usually, we use a Stabilisation glyph as such—see here—and insert transfusion circles at the fourth layer—and here—at the inner circle—creating a circuit that allows for the consumption of HDMs placed within the axis."

The sound of pens scratching parchment and slate filled the lecture hall.

When Birch had finished, Gwen realised that using the spell as a combat tactic was a bit of wishful thinking. The original template of the spell was exceptionally fragile and easily disrupted. It also took two to three minutes to attune every individual beyond the inscriber of the circle. It meant that though she could insert allies into a combat zone, she couldn't extract people without someone holding down the fort.

When she raised her hand and asked the question, Birch answered that usually, an Abjurer formed a protective layer of shields and walls around the surrounded or besieged party. At the same time, the Translocation Conjurer worked on transporting the party to a safe location.

"Are there better variants of the Teleportation Circle?" Gwen asked.

"My personal Teleportation Circle can be attained for fifty-five CCs," Birch answered with a twinkle in his eye. "It takes three-quarters of the time to prepare a companion for translocation, and it has a built-in shielding glyph that your Abjurer can personally empower. For students in my course, there is a discount. The spell is usually traded for sixty-four contribution credits."

Gwen blinked. Despite Birch's dandy outfit and perfectly groomed beard, was he a miser? Teleportation Circle was a custom tier-five spell, not mangos at the market! Doesn't he feel embarrassed hawking his discounted spells to his students?

The lecture ended with Birch approaching Gwen and asking if her grandmother had asked after him. When she replied with a definite no, the Magister smiled bleakly, leaving her with her peers.

"Something going on with Magister Birch and your family?" Lily was a gossiper at heart.

"Nothing worthwhile, just an old pair of alumna and alumni waxing sentimental," Gwen replied offhandedly to offset any suspicion, not wanting to start any troublesome rumours. "Gran's past sixty, you know. I think Magister Birch might be mid-sixties. It's the age when people get nostalgic about their youth."

Lily nodded wisely. Pu shrugged.

"So." Gwen touched a hand to her growling abdomen, feeling hollowed out after just four hours. "Lunch?"

Evocation class.

On the practice fields, Magus Carol Young gave out the students' grades from the prior week, each report attached to a personal memorandum of advice.

Good control, limited AOE potential, recommendation on acquiring a low-level four hundred to eight hundred CC Spirit ASAP. More Adventuring and practicum experience should provide an increase in the performance index. Rank 47/302.

A- was the grade Magus Young gave her performance; a few tiers shy of S.

The comment continued on the back:

Gwen, as irresponsible as it is for me to suggest that you should “simply” acquire a spirit, I must stress that the ability to direct your attacks with IFF is central to Lightning Magic due to its inherent volatility. Once you reach tier V, keynote spells such as Blast Wave become severely limited without an ability to spell-shape, either learned or supernatural. Once you reach tier VI and gain the signature spell of the Lightning talent—Chain Lightning—IFF is essential if you wish to use it pragmatically in the field. Work up some CCs in the next twenty-four months as your tiers develop, putting out a Tower notice for a Lightning Spirit. You will be consigned to the artillery unit without this gift, limiting your immense potential.

Though the lecturer was relentless in delivering her lessons, she offered sterling advice. That said, Magus Young did not account for Gwen's Conjuration, nor her Void talent. Unsure of what she should show, Gwen had so far chosen not to demonstrate her alt-element, though her instructor was likely aware of it.

Gwen wondered what Young would say if she told her that she’d had an accident over the weekend. Now she was tier IV in Evocation, and in the future, there may be more incidents where she would very quickly come into possession of those tiers that her peers would take up to a decade to master.

However, Young was right. The prospect of large-scale AOEs, especially when exercised with identify-friend-foe, greatly appealed to her limitations.

In the other half of the lesson, Magus Young continued to extol the virtues of possessing a spirit. She explained that failing to make an A for most students was due to friendly fire in a dangerous situation. There was little point in having enough firepower to wipe out a building if one's collateral damage would kill more humans than they could save from a demi-human or magical creature infestation.

"Allow me to provide you with an anecdote," the Magus explained. "During the Sinai conflict, the Egyptian Jackal Cult deployed a forbidden spell, Corpse Scarabs, which quickly bred out of control due to the absurd volume of carrion left by both sides. Israeli execution of the temple Necromancer further devolved the situation into anarchy. The Scarabs bore into the carcasses of the fallen or buried themselves underground, then emerged months later as a voracious swarm that blackened the sky."

"These free Scarabs covered enemies, allies, everything and everyone when they attacked. In the end, the Tower brought in a spirit-attuned Fire Magister. This rare individual, with the help of the Israeli Heavy-Golem fourth division, managed to thin out the swarm enough for it to be dispersed, as well as decimate the enemy troops."

A few more anecdotes from the battlefield followed before the lecture ended.

"In week nine, I, as well as a member of the PLA twenty-second Aerial Division, will offer a demonstration. For those of you currently in possession of spirits, you will be asked to participate with the instructors. That is all. Dismissed."

Gwen left Evocation full of anticipation of her upcoming Wildland foray with her uncle. Refreshed with new funds, she treated herself to a buffet of Wildland cuts and vegetables at Uni Road Korean BBQ, reducing the proprietor to tears.

When she’d finally finished, feeling full, watched by the waiters and waitresses with stunned expressions, Gwen left a tip of five HDMs—two to cover the extra food and three to help the waitstaff overcome the trauma of seeing Caliban coiled beneath the table.

Thinking of Magus Young's advice as she walked home with her Familiars, she made a note to pay a visit to the Guanghua Towers to check on new potential spells for her spell list. Even with her monthly deductions from the LRC device hire, she still had ninety-three CCs remaining, plus whatever Jun could rope up for her from the Choi incident. Her savings meant she could potentially purchase four to five new spells at tier IV or one to two at tier V.

Utility or more offensive options? Or perhaps, she could train up her Transmutation to gain Flight?

The night was young, and her stomach was full. Petra should be home soon. There, they could mull over her spell list slowly over a nice pot of ginger-lime Tisane.

Chapter nine

No Mitigating Nourishment

“You've tiered up?" Instructor Chen's abilities of observation were sharp as a tack.

The moment Caliban had completed the obstacle course, ignoring the howling summoned creatures, delicious treats and abrupt stimuli, he’d confronted her with the question. When Gwen's usually disobedient Death Worm wiggled, crawled and squeezed itself through to the next stage, her instructor must have known he was right.

"Yessir," Gwen replied with a toothy grin.

"Too fast. You'll ruin your foundation." Chen furrowed his brows, screwing up his features until she could see a dozen lines on his weathered face. "What're you taking for supplements? Nothing illicit, I hope. One should never pull up rice sprouts to hasten the harvest. No good can come of that."

Bloody oath, supplements? She wondered how Chen would react if she told him she took her steroids in human sacrifice. "Nothing of the sort, sir. I had a lot of help from Magister Wen and am training diligently." Gwen hoped her vapid innocence was enough to deflect the instructor's suspicion.

"Baagh," Chen grunted, clicking his stopwatch. He checked her sustenance band. "At any rate, keep your Familiars manifested. You've got six weeks to pass the course. Remember, seven days straight, day and night."

"Yessir."

"And if you're doing as well as you're proposing, sign up for the Frontlines during the winter break, head up north and rack up some CCs. There's no replacement for real combat experience. Don't waste your talent by becoming one of those greenhouse 'geniuses' who are useless in the field."

Gwen was inclined to agree. Her precarious planning and subsequent inflexibility when dealing with Lulan's sudden intrusion spoke loudly of her need for more experience.

With the conversation over, Chen invited her to observe the others.

Not far from where she conversed with Instructor Chen, Eunae stood by her doe, ready to unsummon her forest Sprite, Luyi, should Caliban's docility fail.

Over the weeks, except for Wanli, the prideful Lighting Hawk who thought itself leagues above the rest, the other Familiars had formed a social club. Ariel and Caliban weren’t at the level of intelligence to possess speech with their human Master, but their “Shaa!” and “Eee!” could be partially comprehended by the other spirit Familiars such as Ahu, the Fire Tiger, or Feifei, the Water Crane.

Watching the Familiars make their adorable sounds at one another reminded Gwen of doggy daycares where hounds as diminutive as Ariel and as enormous as Ahu socialised through barks, whines and growls.

"Gwen." Lu approached the student and instructor with his majestic hawk perched above his shoulder.

So cool. Gwen sighed. In the Wildlands, she could have the hawk scout from up on high while sending her a stream of intelligence, trivialising the positioning of monsters and enemies so long as her familiar had a clear vision of what lurked below. "Hi, Lu. How was your weekend?"

"Good, very good. Brother Dai held a gathering at the Four Seasons with many families and heirs. He would have loved it if you could have attended as well."

"I was rather preoccupied, I am afraid." Gwen smiled affably. "Tell Dai I said hello."

"Will do." Lu made small talk. "How's training for Caliban coming along?"

"Grudgingly." Gwen studied the young man, watching his eyes. Lu seldom liked to meet her eyes while they conversed. Curiously, Kusu adopted the same body language. She wondered if they were that uncomfortable speaking to her or if some ingrained social-cultural aspects were at play. What she'd heard from Pu was that within the clans, hierarchy was absolute. An eye-level conversation inferred one was speaking with an equal.

Was she then Lu's superior? Why was Lu, the possessor of a Spirit of Lightning, afraid of her?

Gwen thought of Dai and how the young man had tried to have a go at her, only to be beaten back like an eager dog panting at her heels. She hoped the quick-witted young man didn't hold a grudge. As the sole male heir of the Police Commissioner and, by that extension, one of the most influential power progenies she had met, he could easily complicate matters while demanding unsavoury favours.

That Dai had not contacted her again or made his presence known except through Lu, spoke loudly of the young man's foresight and the comfort by which he navigated the upper echelon of society. Had he done so, Uncle Jun would have given his family a piece of his mind.

Caliban finished sizing up Luyi, giving it a lick with a tentacle tongue.

"Gods, I am starving." Gwen felt hollowed out by the three-hour lesson between breakfast and lunch. "Eunae, you up for some Sushi?"

"Sure," the girl from Seoul pipped up. The Healer had made good progress with her doe. Luyi was no longer running off without her express consent, even when troubled by Caliban. However, that may be because the Conjurer herself was acclimatising to the presence of her Mongolian Death Worm.

After offending Eunae with her gluttony, Gwen paid for lunch, then left for Advanced Spell Shaping. She decided that she would save her Tower visit for Wednesday. This food business that she'd thought under control was taking up more time than she had imagined.

Her almost exclusively mana-rich diet cost nearly seventy HDMs a week, a price unimaginable to her Blackwattle peers in Sydney. As for her bank, Gwen knew she was shy of three thousand HDMs, plus potions and raw crystals that could be traded in for another one thousand or so.

Still, she promised herself that she would investigate a sustainable source of passive income to feed her growing appetite, an appetite that might grow more exorbitant unless she could alternatively afford a steady diet of living things, large and small.

Advanced Spellshaping

Magister Michio Lee had on a shirt so tight his buttons strained for life.

As usual, a gaggle of giggling university girls sat at the front row, well away from Gwen's serpent and her Marten and as close as humanly possible to the handsome, wealthy and talented Magister, whose jawline possessed a personality of its own.

With his horn-rimmed glasses, Michio reminded Gwen of an Asian Clark Kent, one whose ego could probably bend steel. Michio also reminded her of Gunther. Both were hyper-competent, though Gunther, either because of his Germanic heritage or his time in Australia, had a laconic stoicism and ease of confidence which superseded Michio's peacocking.

Returning from the mid-semester break, Magister Lee continued his instruction of theorems which would ultimately, Gwen guessed, lead to the third-year courses that deconstructed existing magical theory.

"This brings us to the nature of hybrid magic, the most common of which, not surprisingly, is the Conjuration-Evocation Biomancy used by Clerics. As I annotated in week four, the existing Schools of Magic are pigeonholed by current proven theory. Though spells utilised major incantations specific to their sigil, many are supported by minor incantations tied to auxiliary Schools of Magic. For example, in Heal Moderate Wounds, Conjuration provides the matter, while Evocation supplies the power. In advanced healing spells such as the tier VI Full Heal or the tier VII Regenerate, Transmutation provides precision.

"Let's go back a little further. The Clerical—or in secular terms, the healing talent—is tracible back to antiquity. In the classical era, when magic was beginning to be discovered by humanity, 'healing' was the most useful and revered School of Magic. Among the recorded history of Spellcraft, healing spells remain the most preserved School of Magic. Not only that, the big three of the Apothecary colleges—Nightingale, The Acropolis and The Hospitallers of Saint John—have never withheld knowledge from other like-minded institutes. These religious institutions are why we have the Clerical Class, showing that for Spellcraft to exceed its current state, knowledge should be disseminated."

A few scoffs resonated from the back row. Gwen knew those to be the clanners, who, as a fraternity, always sat together.

Lee ignored them. "What most of you are not aware of, seeing that Healers have their hyper-specialised training, is that the Clerical School is a mixture of the common Schools of Magic, with each spell tailored for those with the Positive Energy talent. It is living proof that anyone could attain different Schools of Magic. Bless is an Enchantment-based spell. Healing Word is Evocation. Protection from Disease and Poison is Abjuration. Guardian of Faith is both Abjuration and Conjuration, and so on." Michio Lee leaned forward for dramatic effect. "What if I told you that one of the most important spells of the Clerical School—Revivify—is a form of Necromancy?"

Shocked murmurs rang through the classroom. Even Gwen felt the hair stand on the back of her neck.

"Ha! Yes. Though Necromancy is banned, many of our most stable Healing spells are indeed Positive Energy variations of their Necromantic foundation spells. Do you think Resurrection, one of our rarest magic in existence, is Evocation? No!"

Michio Lee appeared to enjoy watching his students chatter nervously. His lectures were as theatrical as they were opinionated. "Shocked? Don't be! What I am telling you is common knowledge. All you have to do is keep digging and keep reading. Necromancy, in the end, is just another form of Spellcraft. It's not the knowledge we fear. It's those who use it to nefarious ends. No, no, quieten down! There is no need to fear censure. Mr Hong. I said DOWN! We'll have none of that in my lecture. Most of you, the vast majority, will never have the chance to have Resurrection performed upon you. The exception among you would be…" Michio's eyes scanned the crowd. "You, you and you."

The crowd followed Michio's fingers through the multitude of faces. Individuals pointed out by the attention-seeking Magister either straightened their spines proudly or hid their profiles behind their notes. Lu Fung, with his spirit, Wanli, was among those indicated. Finally, Magister Lee's eyes fell upon the front row, where the girls held their breath. "And you, most of all."

A hundred or more pairs of eyes converged on Lee's final target.

Gwen wondered if she could have grabbed Ariel and used its furry body to cover her face. She felt like a Magical Monster put on an official campus exhibition.

"Of course, there are problems with our pedestrian variety of Resurrection. Unless one looked to true Necromancy used by the Death Cults, the Resurrection of the Clerical School suffered from many flaws, the chief of which is the partial loss of one's astral body. At best, you'll retain your sanity and lose half of your powers and talents. At worst, you could be resurrected as a drooling idiot."

Magister Lee amusedly looked over at Gwen, making her play with the cloth of her dress. His gaze then shifted to the back row, to the clanners. "What the degradation doesn't impact, of course, is one's ability to pass on or engender the next generation of uniquely talented Mages. That's why you, Mr Hong, would likely be resurrected. Useless as you are, you'll make an acceptable stud for your relatives."

An uproar rang out over the lecture hall. Lee shot back a derisive snort of laughter. "So take good care of yourself," he announced loudly. "Don't die. Resurrection is a fool's game. Dismissed!"

Wednesday

Gwen suffered through Supplementary Conjuration with Magus Kumiko.

She had slept through the alarm and had to forgo breakfast for a glass of cold milk and lukewarm coffee. At first, she felt fine, confident she could fight the hunger. By the second hour, her agitation had transferred to Caliban, busily tasting everything from the floorboards to the door handle to other Conjurers, who fled from the obsidian worm in alarm.

"I need to eat," Gwen confessed to her instructor. "I need something right now."

"I can help, but…" Magus Kumiko offered to feed Caliban after the lesson.

"I'm going to grab a bite quickly," Gwen replied vaguely. "I'll be all right. I'll be back if I am able."

Gwen barged through the door of the training hall. Magus Kumiko appeared to want to give chase, but she had twenty students waiting on her help and instruction.

Outside, Gwen forced herself to endure the five famished minutes it took to walk back to the apartment.

The hunger, for the lack of a better word, could be split into two distinct stages. The first was a feeling attributed to a physical sensation of desiring nourishment and fulfilment. It was equal parts physiological and psychological, a trend Gwen knew well from her earlier days of fooling around with low-tier Void spells. It wasn't so much reliance as a need, a desire for sustenance rooted in the survival instinct. Gwen could consciously subdue this psychosomatic component with the force of will, as she wasn't a stranger to crash diets.

But beyond her conscious strata of the Freudian iceberg was the incessant mewling of a subconsciousness demanding to be satiated. Gwen was beginning to learn first-hand the unpleasant aphorism that hunger could change everything one thought one knew about oneself.

"Lei, can you make me some chow real quick? Something hot and filling?" Gwen stumbled into Mayuree's apartment to see a shocked Lei cleaning the place. "Just give me something, anything, Lei, quick."

While on the levitation platform, she had thought about materialising a packet of instant noodles, chomping straight into the snap-dried gluten. That or open a can of the ten or so allotments of spam in her ring.

It took a least a few minutes to prepare a clarified-broth noodle soup, so Lei brought out the cold cuts first. Gwen thought nothing of the fact that she was supposed to dump the toppings onto her soon-to-arrive hot noodles, digging in with a passion. Her tongue first encountered the cold, hard meat with delight and disgust, the solidified fat and salt meeting in her stomach in an all-consuming ecstasy.

"You're going to choke!" Lei's eyes were two wide orbs as Gwen took the noodle soup and almost dumped the scalding hot contents into her mouth.

Gwen kept cramming. And then, as expected, she choked, exchanging gluttony for regret. When finally she swallowed, she felt the gnashing of her organs storming against the furious hunger as though two Magisters were galling one another with fire and ice.

"Water." Gwen pounded the table.

Lei returned with a jug and a glass. Gwen drank, then felt a sudden upheaval.

She ran toward the open kitchen, grabbed the bin, and then hurled her guts into the metallic can.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban slithered toward her crouched form and nudged her sides.

"Ee-ee!" Ariel ran in circles, screeching worriedly.

Lei’s eyes became alarmed. She promptly dialled Mayuree with the self-powered Messenger Device in the living room.

When Mayuree dodged her next class and arrived ten minutes later, she looked at an exhausted Gwen, makeup smeared and clothes soiled, nursing a jug of hot water against the kitchen bench.

"Mao! Are you all right? Should I call your grandmother?"

"No, no, I am fine, Mia. I am fine now."

Lei had been kind enough to make plain porridge, which blunted the worst.

Gwen had spent the last few minutes trying to convince herself that it wasn't a total loss. There was a lesson here—when suffering from supernatural hunger, do not consume solid food: soup, congee, porridge, gruel and meals that were easy to consume in large amounts.

"God, you're a mess." Mayuree wrung her hands helplessly. "Lei, help Gwen to the bathroom and help her wash."

"I am good. Get me to the apartment," Gwen insisted.

"Are you drunk? Did you get drugged?" Mayuree asked.

"Likely an aftereffect of the Friday event." Gwen pointed out. "I've been experimenting with my limits with Magister Wen and my babulya."

"Oh." Mayuree now appeared even more concerned.

"There'll be a resolution on Saturday," Gwen stated a half-truth. "After that, everything should be fine for the foreseeable future."

"Of course," Mayuree replied, clearly disbelieving Gwen's assertion. "Let's get you to your room first."

Gwen struggled off the barstool. Aided by Lei and supported by Mayuree, the trio deposited her in her bathroom. Lei helped Gwen out of her soiled clothes while Mayuree waited in the living room. The NoM servant wiped her down, then left as Gwen showered.

When Gwen reemerged in a new t-shirt and shorts, her friend breathed a sigh of relief. "Goddess, don't scare me like that." She glanced upward as if to appeal to some unseen force.

"I didn't know you were religious." Gwen felt amused by the fact.

"It's an old custom from home… when we had a home," Mayuree answered melancholically. "The worship of mythical beings is not banned there."

As to where home was, Mayuree hadn't been forthcoming. The only clue Gwen had gotten from the girl regarding the origins of the House of M was that of a lost country, perhaps, or a destroyed township. During the Beast Tide, many nations had been displaced. Every time a human region fell, all the Mages, NoMs, clans and houses had to find a new home. Sometimes the loss of things, homes and land was enough to diminish a people so significantly that they ceased to exist within a few generations.

Gwen sighed with misery. More training was out, but she'd hoped to visit the Tower.

"You should rest," Mayuree suggested, touching a hand to her forehead.

"No rest for the wicked." Gwen smiled weakly.

Thanking Mayuree and Lei profusely, she convinced the duo to leave her alone so she could nap. After a short shut-eye, she snacked on Spam toast, then departed for the Guanghua Towers. She needed sustenance, but more than anything, she needed a constant distraction from the idle fantasies of the Saturday only three days away.

Chapter ten

Nothing Quite like Loneliness

Lulan caught Gwen as she passed through the lawn leading up to the Guanghua Towers. It was easy to spot the girl because no one else had a Mongolian Death Worm with a ferret riding on its head trailing behind them—that and the fact that she parted the crowd like an icebreaker through a frozen sea.

"Gwen!" Lulan called out, then instantly regretted her cavalier familiarity. Gwen looked like she had somewhere to be, not to mention she looked dog-tired.

As the Void Mage came closer, Lulan noticed that her saviour's distinct aura had changed from brimming confidence to that of a burnt-out NoM ending a long day at the Manufactorum.

"Lulu, finished your classes?" Her saviour asked. "You and Kusu settled in yet?"

"Almost." Lulan fell in step beside her. "It's not like we had anything to move."

That much was true. She and Kusu had decided to forgo all their belongings, which included some bedsheets, a dozen changes of clothes, and assorted things from the clan. They’d been officially excommunicated by Huashan, including Luwei, their father, and the alliance of clans.

"I am sorry to hear that." Gwen patted her shoulder.

"Enough about me. How about you?"

Lulan studied her saviour's face intensely, observing Gwen's puffy eye bags and the fissure of blood vessels surrounding the whites of her hazel irises. "Saviour, are you not sleeping well?"

"Something like that," Gwen replied vaguely. "Hopefully, once my Essences regenerate, I'll be as right as rain."

"If there's something I can do for you," Lulan wanted to help but knew not how. She hadn't had a chance to look after anything, ever. Kusu usually pampered her, even as the red mist made her brother's life a waking nightmare. Thanks to Gwen, though, those days were behind them.

"I am just tired, that's all." Gwen's voice was a little distant. "You want to come up with me? I am browsing for new spells and checking to see if my uncle's CCs have come in. There should be some for you as well, I assume."

Lulan fell into step beside her.

It felt good to have someone to follow. Lulan knew she had been the clan's pariah, but she was still a cog in their collective. As a sterling footsoldier, she had always been surrounded by juniors and seniors. As a wayward drone estranged from the hive, she felt the sting of isolation like a rusty nail.

Her isolation wasn't so bad when Kusu was with her. Her brother's presence calmed her anxiety and reminded her she wasn't alone. But now that the semester had begun and she was without a companion, Lulan felt directionless. Without immediate access to a clan-sponsored quest, she had to wait to be assigned to a pick-up group for Questing.

She recalled how she used to pass the time when the red haze had still held her mind hostage. Endless training. That and adventuring for credit, purging Green and Orange Zones with the other members of the sects. She recalled eating at the long table, watching her fellow clanners mock the “upstarts”, deriding talented Rogue Mages like Gwen and Kitty, or break out alternatively in peevish admiration and jealousy for their “betters” like the Fungs of Nantong.

There were less pleasant memories, too: being scolded by an elder for one trespass or another, real or imagined. The frequent public beatings and the laughter of her peers as yet another bamboo rod broken against her back.

A few days ago, when she’d first sat alone with a takeout box in the middle of the Guanghua Tower's famously scenic lawn, listening to the sound of sycamores swaying in the summer wind, what she’d felt wasn't the romanticised tranquillity written on the silk-screen scrolls.

She’d felt, instead, a paralytic loss, a diminution, depletion, an impoverishment of her being.

The freedom. It frightened Lulan.

When she’d seen Gwen coming by, she felt like a woman swept into the open sea, finding a sudden length of rope extended from a passing vessel. As for the ship's destination, she wasn't inclined to know. For Lulan, the mere promise of land was enough.

The duo arrived at the administration level, took a ticket at the spell list counter, and then studied the list of spells available for exchange with CCs.

When they consulted the front desk, Gwen was informed that she was sitting on one hundred and sixty-three CCs. It meant Uncle Jun had come through in the matter involving Choi.

"What are you on, Lulu?" Gwen asked, feeling smug.

The receptionist took some time to retrieve Lulan's records, emerging from the back room after some time with an apologetic smile. "Three hundred and seventy-two CCs, ma'am."

Gwen's smugness shattered like glass.

"I did a lot of questing," Lulan explained, "but there was nothing really to spend it on. The Iron Heart technique is unique to Huashan. All my other spells are mundane versions you can acquire from the university's public records."

Three hundred and seventy-two CCs! Gwen wanted to berate Lulan's unthinking naivety. This entire time, she could have demanded medical treatments! How simple was this girl not to even know that? Had her clan withheld that information from her? Did Kusu know?

But then, Gwen was no stranger to naivety. They were both doe-eyed Frontier girls, unknowingly wandering into the deep dark of the sinful city. The journey from pup to she-wolf was long and hard, but hopefully, they were halfway there.

As for Lulan's CCs, the system had sheltered her. Despite Huashan usurping the girl's assets, the Tower had ensured that no one could take away her contributions. From now on, any injury from training could be offset by medical care paid for by the Tower. Not to mention that Gwen could beg her grandmother for a favour.

Satisfied, Gwen's attention now turned to her resources. Emboldened by her unexpected windfall, she discussed with Lulan what would benefit her current repertoire, with Gwen liberally informing Lulan of her spell list, a revelation that clearly made Lulan stoked to be of aid.

"I am using a specialised version of a shield by Magus Shultz," Gwen answered when Lulan asked how she managed to block her sword strikes without a hard-point shield. "If Gunther permits, I don't mind teaching it to you guys."

Lulan shook her head vigorously. "I can't. The clans hoarded such secrets, often kept by the Master from the apprentice until their deathbed. It is not unusual to hear that a Clan Master had died without passing on a technique."

The girls were then directed to a small private room where they could peruse the Tome, a catalogue of spells the Tower has on record.

"How about this one?" Lulan pointed to a page gilded with a golden edge. The girls were hovering over a section with several entries on Lightning magic. Unsurprisingly, the Nordic Lightning-Evoker Einar Larsen, the Magister generous enough to offer his intellectual estate to the public, was chief on the spell list. Gwen scanned the entries, thinking of what Petra had suggested over tea and biscuits. Jun had said she could be the Second Coming of Thor, had he not? Maybe she could try to be the Second Coming of Magister Larsen?

The page displayed a tier V Evocation Spell.

Ball Lightning

Evocation (5)

Casting time: 50 major, 31 minor incantation

Range: Seeking, LoS, 100M

Components: Somatic, verbal

Duration: Instantaneous + persistent.

Magister Larsen's mid-tier signature spell remains one of his most sought-after incantations. The spell manifests up to (N) plasma orbs of lightning which function independently as Magic Missiles. With a somatic command, the orbs strike (Y) targets within the caster's line of sight. Each orb generates a small explosion dealing electrical damage.

(N) The number of orbs may vary.

(Y) The number of targets must be one or above.

The spell was impressive, but it was tier V, just beyond Gwen's current proficiency. As Larsen's masterpiece, the cost was seventy-two CCs, more than double the tier-four Elemental Sphere. She could purchase it now and begin training, then grow into it, as Petra would say.

The girls continued their browsing, favouring Petra's recommendations.

Grey's Warding Shield

Evocation (4)

Casting time: 20 major, 7 minor incantation

Range: Self

Components: Somatic, verbal

Duration: Persistent + sustained.

A modified Fire Shield allows casters of different elements to make use of the shield's reactive capabilities. Composed originally by Magister Charles Grey, Sydney University, the spell creates an offensive barrier that retaliates against Melee and close-range Foes with 360-degree semi-dome coverage. While the spell is active, all soft-point projectiles are nulled by reactive bursts with an additional elemental bolt counter—a popular spell for pinpointing invisible or hidden attacks.

The supremely useful spell reminded Gwen of Yue's early experiments. She felt tempted by its utility, though she was satisfied with her Non-Newtonian variation. With her absurd VMI, she could weather hard-point assaults for hours.

With some effort, she shifted the catalogue's encyclopaedic entries to another section, scanning through the index until she found the Conjuration-Familiar section. A familiar name greeted her.

Morden's Bloodhound

Conjuration (5)

Casting Time: 48 major, 33 minor incantation, preparation

Range: Close

Components: Somatic, verbal, glyph

Duration: Persistent, 24–72 hours

Another signature spell of Magister Morden, Conjurer Supreme. A continuation of Morden's lifelong preference for quasi-magical hounds, the spell conjures forth a bloodhound capable of tracking a target through any terrestrial terrain. The hound is capable of combat, varying from tier III to tier IV. This spell is best paired with Morden's other signature spells, as intended by its creator. As with many of Morden's magic, this variation remains incomplete due to damage to the original manuscript. Elemental Shift is not a part of this spell.

Thinking of Henry's teaching in her “complete” Morden's Faithful Hound, Gwen quickly located the other spells in the series.

Morden's Bloodhound Pack

Conjuration (6)

Casting time: 201 major, 42 minor incantation, preparation

Range: Close

Components: Somatic, verbal, glyph (M)

Duration: Persistent, 24–72 hours

Another signature spell of Magister Morden, Master Summoner. A continuation of Morden's lifelong passion for quasi-magical hounds, the spell conjures forth up to a dozen bloodhounds. Each hound possesses the equivalent combat ability of tier IV and five magical creatures. The hounds are telepathically linked and are capable of employing pack tactics against single enemies. Morden originally designed the spell for the hunting of Trolls in his homeland of Scotland. A hound pack accompanied by a Creature Mage versed in support magic would have no trouble dealing with a tier VI to eight Troll, Hill or Stone Giant, and other demi-humans of the giant subclass. As with many of Morden's spells, this variation remains incomplete due to damage to the original manuscript. Elemental Shift is not a part of this spell.

Gwen imagined herself commanding a dozen handsome hounds, exhausting a ten-meter giant. Even as a speculative projection, the scene set her heart to quicken with anticipation. The cost of the spell was a whopping one hundred and eighteen CCs.

She flipped the page. There was one more, a spell Gwen had seen Elizabeth Sobel use once before.

Morden's Sword

Conjuration (7) Evocation (5+) Transmutation (5+)

Casting time: 512 major, 217 minor incantations

Range: Close

Components: Somatic, verbal, material

Duration: Persistent

The famous signature spell of Magister Morden, Master Summoner. This spell creates a blade of compressed force, which is near-invisible. The sword possesses a Vorpal edge capable of passing through most non-magical constructs. The conjured implement can be commanded to attack one's enemies, equating a Dancing Blade with the indestructible attribute. Morden famously used this spell to behead the Stone King of Dunsinane in a single stroke, breaking the morale of the giant-kin's army during the Battle of Perthshire in 1922. As with many of Morden's spells, this variation remains incomplete due to damage to the original manuscript. Elemental Shift is not a part of this spell.

Sobel had used a Void version, Gwen recollected. It was so sharp that not even Whetu's thousand-latticed Punamu Shield could withstand more than a few blows. She shuddered to think that the sword could persist for hours in combat, striking every few seconds.

As for its purchase, the cost of the spell was not only astronomical, it also required an application for a face-to-face interview and three referees to satisfy some place called the "Greyhawk Citadel" in Suilven, Scotland.

The girls pressed the book against the table. It was a hefty tome.

Wasn't this just like window shopping? Gwen amused herself with the delightful realisation. She was with a girlfriend, they were looking at costly spells of mass destruction and fantasising about using them on their foes while being too frugal to afford the goods.

Amused, Gwen turned to another section of the spell list and found what Magister Birch had noted earlier.

Shielded Teleportation Circle

Conjuration (5) Abjuration (1)

Casting time: 70 major, 11 minor incantation, preparation

Range: Translocation

Components: Somatic, verbal, material

Duration: Persistent

Created by Magister Luis Birch of Fudan University, Shanghai, this variation of the Teleportation Circle spell has an additional component that allows a Party Abjurer to directly protect the circle's glyphs by expanding a half-dome shield toward the extremity of the magic circle. An improved mandala algorithm likewise has given this variant a shorter activation delay.

The spell was listed at sixty-four CCs, implying that Birch’s fifty-five CCs was a sizeable discount for his students.

She also browsed the utility spells for lower tiers. Divination had a suite of Detection spells she could pick up from between five and twenty CCs.

Enchantments had several self-buffs, from Heroism to Strengthen Body. However, the spell she'd likely covet was the tier II Hold Person. Lulan had said that even she had been the victim of such an Enchantment. The problem was that such spells were sanctioned and required Mind Magic licences.

As for Illusion, a simple command of Phantasmal Sound allowed her to create music like Tao, while Illusion staples like Invisibility hinted at almost limitless opportunities for abuse. Another spell of great interest was Disguise Self, which allowed one to change one's appearance subtly. Both Invisibility and Disguise Self required a registered practice licence grading of M, meaning Military or Para-Military.

Abjuration likewise offered keen options for defence or dispelling.

At five pm, Gwen felt again too hungry to continue. Escorted by her Familiars and joined by Lulan, she discovered a congee-hotpot joint and ordered for the table.

When the small cauldron of congee arrived, she piled in Wildland wood-ear mushrooms, a South Sea seafood platter, and other ingredients. When the admixture was cooked into the congee, she dug in with a ferocity that frightened her companion.

Lulan herself was bloated after two bowls, making small talk as an excessive amount of mana-rich congee flowed into Gwen's stomach. As Gwen sucked out the creamy filling of a prawn head, she noticed Lulan staring.

"Did you er… want one?" Gwen felt her cheeks redden.

Lulan shook her head. The girl had eaten her usual diet of grains, pickled vegetables and steamed flesh of magical beasts.

"I am just…" Lulan seemed to be searching for a word. "Happy?"

"That's nice." Gwen stretched out her arms. "You had enough, Lulu?"

"I am full, thank you."

At first, Lulan demanded they split the bill, but as Gwen had eaten enough for four, her friend grudgingly accepted Gwen's generosity.

The girls returned to B1, where Lulan bid Gwen goodbye, then returned to her new abode in B14, clearly happier than when she'd left it.

As for Gwen, she felt the urge to retreat quickly to her apartment. The congee had been as delicious as anything, but it appeared to disagree with her somewhat fiercely.

Gwen didn't show up for Transmutation Utility the next day.

When she did not answer her Message, Mayuree was worried enough to truant, returning to Guoding Road B1.

She knocked on the door of 2204, then became supremely surprised to be greeted by a kind grandma with an aura of benevolence. It took her a moment to acknowledge that this was Klavdiya Song, Gwen's grandmother, as the woman had a white doctor's coat and wore her hair in a tight, severe bun.

"Is Gwen…?"

"She's inside, dear. Come in. You are Gwen's friend from upstairs. Mia, am I right?"

Mayuree nodded. The woman had a face with Gwen's likeness, though she lacked the height and the natural arrogance. As a Healer, the grandmother appeared youthful everywhere except for her neck and the skin of her hands, as well as a slight sag to her shoulders, which betrayed her real age.

When Mayuree entered the bedroom, she saw that Petra was there too, looking worried. As for Gwen herself, she was propped up on pillows, looking deathly.

"Oh, goddess." Mayuree swallowed, her heart catching in her throat. "Gwen! What happened?"

"Argh…" Gwen appeared to be in pain. Her once shining eyes formed two thin lines, and her whites were wholly bloodshot.

Caliban was coiled up in what looked like a laundry-basket baby carrier, while Ariel was purring softly by the end of the bed, warming Gwen's feet.

Mayuree touched Gwen's clammy hands. Unexpectedly, Petra chuckled.

Mayuree shot Gwen's cousin an annoyed look. Gwen's life is not a joking matter! If the Void had consumed the sorceress, she could have died then and there. If Gwen were to perish, what would happen to herself? Who was going to fill the gap in her prophesy?

"I…" Gwen grimaced, unable to speak. "Petra, explain.”

"Gwen!" Mayuree urged her friend to remain in bed. "What can I do? I can get anything, Ancient Ginseng? Life Lotus? Just let me know. I’ve got crystals!"

"Calm down, Mayuree." Petra rose from her seat, her face devoid of worry. "Gwen's not sick from her magic. She's got food poisoning."

Mayuree looked from Gwen to Petra, then to Gwen again.

"Too much junk food too quickly. There's not enough vitality even in Wildland ingredients, so she over-ate. Her body couldn't take all the gunk she was stuffing into it. The food around Fudan has far too many NoM ingredients—sugar, salt, oil and soy sauce. Lord knows what else. I'd dare say she ate the seafood in that congee a little too soon, or maybe it was the mushroom. Who knows?"

"Oh." Gwen groaned. "It's like two roos are boxing in my gut."

Mayuree felt like ten bags of rice had been lifted off her chest. "What does she need?"

"Essence, for the lack of a better word. She needs to feed the Void."

"Like…" Mayuree looked over at Gwen. "You know."

"Yes, I know about it," Petra said. "That or survive on a steady diet of Wildland fruits, the rare ones."

That would be several hundred HDMs a meal, assuming one a week, Mayuree calculated. It was a fair upkeep for such a preciously rare talent. Maybe, if she put up the HDMs, she could keep Gwen on as a retainer?

While her friend schemed, Gwen was in pain for herself and her piggy bank.

She needed money and a sustainable income.

Perhaps, as her babulya and Jun had stated, it was time to diversify herself into Adventuring or Dungeon Crawling. There was a verdant buffet out there, one which she could partake at her leisure. The minimum attendance for a course to pass was ten out of thirteen weeks, though further absences could be negotiated, pending a student's final results. With her grades, it shouldn't be difficult to take a week or a day out of Economics or Management to ravage the Wildlands.

When Petra had discovered her faint-headed and famished in the morning, The Mineral Mage had immediately infused her cousin with a Lesser Restoration. Serendipitously, it was the one she'd initially kept for Lulan after the girl returned from the Astoria vomiting seven ways to Shanghai.

Nonetheless, the ordeal had been an experience and a valuable one. Gwen now knew the extent of the debilitation brought by her deficiency in Essence.

Thanks to a further infusion of Healing energies from her babulya, Gwen's deficiency of vitality was momentarily replenished, kicking her Druidic Essence with the necessary agitation to multiply. If there was a valuable lesson learned here—it was that she could not sustain herself by eating non-stop unless she was willing to live, like the fabled Elves, upon the fruits and produces of the Wildland.

The destructive and volatile nature of oily stir-fry, hot rich soup and icy dessert only contributed to her woes.

"She needs a healthier diet." Her babulya motioned for Petra. "Dear, you keep an eye on Gwen. She is only allowed healthy and hearty food until after Saturday."

Petra stood to attention.

Klavdiya then turned to Gwen. "Call Kumiko, dear. I don't care what Wen thinks. We're getting you fed."

Chapter eleven

Pinky Promises

When Klavdiya's youngsters came, Magus Kumiko was ready to go. After everything had been prepared, her grandmother called their researcher out of courtesy.

"I am having Kumiko nourish Gwen," Gwen’s grandmother informed her friend and colleague.

"Of course, we all want what's best for her." Magister Wen's reply came after a few minutes. "I am in a meeting. Do you need me to observe? I can be there in an hour."

"No need, we'll take care of it." Klavdiya's tone lost some of its tension. "Thanks, Marie."

As Gwen was too exhausted to move, Petra expended a cube of Enhanced Strength, then effortlessly princess-carried Gwen, sweatpants and all, down to the levitation platform. The parade drew amused and curious looks as they moved, trailed by a mewing ferret and a Death Worm herald.

It was after they’d arrived inside the training hall, Gwen reddening like a beetroot from head to toe, that Petra finally allowed her to stand.

"That was entirely unnecessary." Gwen was still a bit woozy.

"If you eat all that junk again and have another episode, I'll do that again," Petra promised mirthfully yet entirely seriously. "I am taking Babulya's advice to heart. Fair warning, Cousin. Hope you like your lightly salted meat and vegetables."

Gwen groaned. It wasn't as though she had intended to OD on street food. Bloody oath, she still had a Beggar Chicken in her ring!

"Walls of Force are in place," Magus Kumiko notified them helpfully. "We can begin anytime."

"Gwen?"

"Babulya, can you give me a pick-me-up before I feed Caliban?" Indeed, if she was sufficiently diminished, the vital cost of Consumption might wipe her out before Caliban could be empowered.

Her babulya provided the extra shot of Positive Energy.

On the far side, Magus Kumiko called out incantations quickly, filling the Force Cube with a flaring burst of silvery Conjuration. When the light solidified, the gathered Mages stared at a befuddled Wildland boar.

Caliban audaciously rubbed up against the invisible panes of the wall, causing the boar to go berserk. It rushed the Wall of Force and struck the pane with enough force to split its nose and break off a tusk, sending a splatter of dried mud against the surface.

Cunning worm, Gwen thought. "Caliban!"

Gwen re-summoned Caliban inside the Force Cube, giving it the command to assume the Gila form.

In the next moment, Caliban teleported in as a giant nine-foot-tall bipedal Gila, its skin dark and tenebrous and its foreclaws each ten inches long. When Gwen readied herself for the backlash, she found that her vitality had not diminished, not even by a single mote.

Caliban's internal stores! She recalled what Magister Wen had pointed out during their first session with those two men from the PLA and the Pudong Tower. Caliban could store excess vitality as Void matter within itself. Does this mean it no longer uses my life force as a battery?

A sudden bout of action disrupted her inquisitiveness.

With neither her explicit instruction nor command, Caliban launched toward the cowering boar. With a single swipe, it tore inch-wide gashes across the boar's mud-caked hide, splattering the panes with fresh arterial gouts of vermilion.

Incensed by the injury, the boar became enraged, entirely ignoring its flesh wound. It dug in its heels and charged, trying to cannonball Caliban with its heaving mass. Caliban waited until the last moment to suddenly frog leap, urged by Gwen's rather purposeless cry of "Dodge it!"

As it sailed over the charging beast, its limbs impossibly twisted as though they possessed no cartilage, then dug into the spinal ridges atop the mud-covered swine. When the boar further attempted to dash Caliban against the floor, Gwen's creature landed, tearing out a chunk of flesh from the swine's neck so large as to make the audience wince.

A torrent of thick blood poured from the creature, sending it crashing against the further wall, leaving a bloody skid mark several meters long.

"Shaa-shaa!"

Caliban roared once or twice, then opened its maw impossibly wide.

Even as the oinking creature defecated in terror, Caliban's contracting tentacles crammed the boar headfirst into its open mouth, swallowing the swine wholesale.

"Bravo!" Magus Kumiko applauded.

Gwen stared slack-jawed and sick to her core at her Familiar.

What the shit? Her mind reeled and spun, a thousand and one paranoias playing across her standing hair follicles. She had not given Caliban a single command! Of its own free will, it had executed an Onslaught and then finished off the boar with a Consume. The whole time, she hadn't given it authority. She hadn't! She had been thinking it, but no explicit instruction had issued from her lips. What did that mean? Did Caliban feel no need to obey her if she was no longer its battery? She felt like a jilted bride!

Cali's autonomy was a serious thing. A freelance Caliban was more dangerous—

Her mind grew blank.

A wave of ecstasy struck Gwen's depleted body. The rain after a prolonged drought. The vitality from a tier III Tusker-Charger was nothing compared to Nephres Zalaam, but it was palpable. She held on, riding the wave of delight without being swallowed by the sensation. The euphoria came and went after several heartbeats, allowing her to gather her wits.

"Caliban, return!" she commanded, expecting the worst.

To her complete and utter surprise, Caliban came bounding back like a nightmarish Labrador Retriever, its goofy toad face sagging as its jowls drooled. As it approached, it even turned back into its docile serpent form.

Caliban coiled itself against the barrier, purring, happy that its stomach had experienced nourishment so soon.

"How do you feel now?" her babulya asked, watching Gwen's face.

In her reflection against the Wall of Force, Gwen saw that her hazel eyes reclaimed their lustre. Her dermis was once more tender and soft, her hair glossy and dynamic. From a wilting anaemic, she had taken on the likeness of one in the bloom of youth.

“Once a week,” Klavdiya notified Magus Kumiko.

"Hai, once a week." The Magus bowed reflexively toward the senior director.

"No more diets," Klavdiya sternly informed her granddaughter. "This elastic vitality of yours, coming and going every other week, surely can't be good for you."

Gwen was then advised to return to bed. Having lived an evil diet, Gwen could only hope that her revitalised Druidic Essence could provide the remedy she required.

For now, the rooting hog of gluttony had been put to rest.

And Gwen would forgo Economics.

As her babulya had said, "You've done enough for today."

Friday

Gwen felt well enough to attend Professor Ma's class.

Richard had returned from his quests in the Hangzhou region, happy to receive his share of HDMs and the loan of Opa's medium storage ring. The young man was ecstatic when she further informed him of the additional CCs they’d received from Jun.

"I'll have to thank him," Richard said. "What do you think he would like for a gift?"

Gwen honestly had no idea. It seemed Jun knew far more about her than she did about him. Maybe on their trip together, they would get to know one another more informally as uncle and niece.

By the end of the lecture, Professor Ma issued new homework—the students must produce a six thousand-word report on their experiences in the districts, reflections on what they had learned and gained through walking and working in a place where NoMs were the norm.

Though a groan emitted from the crowd, the report was no trouble for Gwen. She could likely hammer out the sixteen-page document in a single night.

While she was in thought, a pair of hands slid around her waist in an overtly friendly gesture. Gwen turned to see Mayuree blinking her chestnut eyes, her fake lashes meeting like two petals of a Venus Flytrap.

"Can you help me with the report?" the Diviner begged. "I foresee I will fail without your help."

For the sake of academic conduct, Gwen knew she should have refused, but she owed Mayuree so many dinners and lunches. Sometimes, Gwen felt like an ungrateful cat, returning nightly to Mayuree's loft for watering and feeding, only to disappear after the meal. Surely a little ghostwriting could go a long way in repaying the girl's generosity. She would make sure Mayuree understood every word.

"Okay," she said, catching a dirty glance from Kitty. "But you're the one doing the handwriting."

"Pufft, handwriting," Mayuree scoffed, hugging her tightly. "I've got a Dancing Pen!"

Mayuree laboured through her report, watched jealously by Gwen as her Dancing Pen produced flawless and florid scripts across the parchment, until Lei approached.

"Gwen, there's a call for you." Lei's hand-held Message Device announced. “From an Elvia Lindholm? Your friend in London?"

"Dimension Door!"

And just like that, Gwen teleported through the floor.

"JESUS!" Petra jumped when Gwen appeared next to her in a flash of Conjuration mana. "Gwen, use the lev. It's dangerous to Dimension Door indoors!"

That much was true. There was too much clutter, and the spell wasn't exact. If Gwen had materialised into something, the shunt of her physical form to the closest displaceable point could cause significant injury. At worst, she could twist or sprain a limb from the whiplash.

"ACCEPT!" Gwen punched the glyphs on the incoming call. "Sorry, Pats. Won't happen again."

The illusory projection began to manifest. Petra retreated to the kitchen to make them both a cuppa. Elvia's projection began to move as the pleasant scent filled the living room.

The blonde girl appeared even more angelic than the last time Gwen had seen her. Against all improbability, Evee's aura could be palpably felt even across time and space.

"Gwennie!"

"Evee!"

The girls exchanged “phantom” hugs.

"How are you? How're things? What 'mission' did you go on?"

"Oh, it was incredible! Horrible, but also incredible. How about you, Gwen?"

"I've got a story to tell," Gwen informed her erstwhile companion. "How are you doing for credits? These calls ain't cheap."

The Long-Range Messages were double-charged. The telecommunication division must be up to their necks in HDMs.

"I am doing lots of good. I've worked plenty, earned lots, and never spent the stash Alesia loaned me." Elvia’s ocean-blue eyes were alive with happiness.

Petra left the tea, then left for the bedroom. In her cousin’s words, boundaries didn't have to be pragmatic. Rather, they should be respectful.

"You go first." Gwen adjusted the projector so she could sit without the sensors cropping off her forehead.

"Okay." Elvia leaned in closer as well. The girls were now seated as though they were sitting at a coffee table. "I told you last time that Miss Rothwell—that's Emily Rothwell of the er… Rothwell family—took me under her wing. Well, I started my work for the Student Representative Council."

By her admission, Elvia's charmed life had continued under the shelter of Emily Greyson Rothwell, the darling daughter of Lord John Rothwell, the Duke of Somerset. Having taken on the duties of secretary and personal assistant to the “Lady Duchess” of Nightingale, she’d enjoyed unfettered access to the considerable resources of the third most prestigious Healer's college in Europe.

For the semester, Elvia had attended classes without incident, enjoying the friendship of peers she had acquired since arriving in London. She’d passed her exams with flying colours with a little help from her instructors, who took pity on the fact that she’d had to suffer through a Frontier public high school.

When the time had come for practicums, Elvia had been assigned to the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children, one of the most coveted placements in London. As its name inferred, the fabled GOS was the premier hospital for the care of children anywhere in the world's capital cities, with an impressive roster of one Meister and nine Magister-level Clerics presiding over its board of directors and department heads.

Those who interned at GOS would graduate not only with references. It also came with a network of connections that extended as far as the House of Lords, which sponsored the hospital.

"Wait, let me guess," Gwen tried to extrapolate what may have taken place, mindful of Elvia's prior history. "One of the directors took a fancy to you?"

"How did you know? Are you a Diviner?" Elvia cooed, giggling with glee as Gwen returned a meek smirk. "It was Lady Astor who found me wandering around the ward. She's a viscountess. Gwen, you should have seen her house at Cliveden. It's HUGE! I mean, it's beyond huge. There are ten bedrooms on the upper level, a French dining room and a library with all kinds of spells and first edition manuscripts, and there's an entire lower level for the NoM servants, and the butler was a Magus who cooks…"

Following ten minutes of Downton Abbey, Elvia edition, the girl finally moved on to her placement. After several weeks in the hospital serving as assistant to one doctor or another, she had been sent out with a crew to the Frontier counties to assist in repelling Demi-human invaders.

Gwen had no idea what the ethnographic makeup of England was, but from Elvia's tales of Trolls, Hobs and the Träälvor, commonly known as the Wood Elves, she guessed they had a lot of demi-humans.

"We got to meet one of their Healers. It was incredible. Amazing! Kiki took to the Druidess right away. They're so beautiful, all of them look like models. They have these incredibly cool tattoos on their faces, which turned out to be Enchantments."

The story was quickly moving beyond Gwen's comprehension. As every minute was another HDM, she opted to nod and smile as Elvia delivered her fantastic tale. After twenty minutes of her superlative OOOs and Ahs, Gwen could discern that Elvia had served in a field hospital safely embedded in a Green Zone for almost a week while the benign demi-humans, aided by the humans, pushed back the savage demi-humans called Fomorians.

"In the end, only two of our Mages died," Elvia announced proudly, her voice growing more distant and hollow.

"That's wonderful," Gwen said. "I am sure you did all you could."

"They were brought in too late. All we could do was ease their pain." Elvia's smile waned. "Did you know only Mages ranked Magus and above meet the criterion for deploying higher-tier Healing spells in a triage centre?"

"Now I know," Gwen affirmed Elvia's jaded address. According to her lessons, reagents for advanced healing were finite, with a bottle-necked supply restricted by trade with the Wildland Elves. The exception was Faith-based Healers from the church, an extremely rare existence.

"YEEE—Kiki!"

Elvia's floral sprite made an appearance without warning. It looked sturdier than when Gwen had last seen it. With its folded leaf resending a skullcap and its white stems forming its limbs. In the future, it would make a fine Dryad.

"Shaa-shaa!"

"Ee-EE!" Caliban and Ariel made themselves known.

"Kii! KI!" Kiki fell out of sight.

"It's scared of Caliban." Elvia reappeared, the petal of her mouth issuing forth a delirious string of laughter.

"Evee, I miss you and Yue so much," Gwen confessed, thinking how the girl was so close yet so far away. What she would give to give Elvia a flesh and blood hug just then.

"I miss you too, Gwen." Elvia's eyes became misty. She swallowed hard, then perked up. "Tell me about what you have done since we last talked."

"All right, prepare yourself. My story isn't going to be nice." Gwen delivered her recent adventure, readjusted for PG viewing.

"I am sorry." Elvia's eyes were swollen after Gwen had told her the truth. "I didn't know."

Unlike Yue, who shared a link with Alesia and Gunther, Elvia had never been privy to the depth of Gwen's depraved talent. When Gwen finally told her that she had Consumed a human being, Elvia was stunned for the duration of an HDM.

"It's okay if it's you. I know you'll do the right thing," Elvia finally managed to say.

Gwen then reminded Elvia about Edgar, expanded on the Ravenport ordeal, and of Elizabeth Sobel and their connection to Nephres.

"Oh my God!" Elvia touched four dainty fingers to her peach-hued lips. French tips, Gwen noted; life was good in Europe. "Lord Ravenport? Mycroft Ravenport? He's a duke in the House of Lords!"

"What do you know about him?" Gwen felt her hands clench.

"I don't know much," Elvia confessed, crestfallen. "I've only ever seen him in the papers and on vid-casts. I can ask Miss Rothwell, though."

"What's he like in the British media?"

"The London Gazette had a picture of him just a few days ago. Tall and dark, I suppose. He looked really gaunt, kind of scary and miserly too. The papers said he was a part of the Tories—the Conservative Party. I think one of the articles said that he was all for the Commonwealth to return to the old days of the Britannic Empire."

"That's about what I pictured too." Gwen bit her lip worriedly. "Is he influential?"

"I think so." Elvia saw nothing in politics, though a reasonable education wasn't out of the question. "He's on the papers a lot. Always looming over someone and looking upset. The cartoons often make fun of him and his party."

“Roo's balls,” Gwen swore under her breath. When someone could only be insulted in satire, you knew they were dangerous. That couldn’t be good, especially when Ravenport Sr got the message that she was responsible for Ravenport Jr's demise. Hadn’t Gunther hinted that her father had crushed his balls? Bloody oath. She was floating up shit creek without a paddle. Was she safe in Shanghai? From what she knew, the tier-one capitals loathed Mages from other cities barging into their territory. She just hoped that China had enough tension with London not to offer the lord a reprieve in the form of an extradition treaty.

"Well, shit," Gwen replied dejectedly. "I guess I'll see what happens after tomorrow. I guess there's no point worrying about Ravenport Sr when I gotta murder a guy in cold blood tomorrow for Spellcraft."

"I don't care," Elvia announced suddenly, her blue eyes defiant and glowing. "I don't care what you do. You're always going to be the Gwen I met from Blackwattle."

Hearing Elvia's shrill proclamation of irresponsible affection immediately turned her frown upside down. "Thanks, Evee. You don't know how much that means to me. I'll do my best to keep myself sane for you."

"I'll visit. I'll be your Healer. We'll never be apart again!" Elvia promised idealistically, her aching heart clearly clouding her judgement. "Wait for me. Three years, right? I should graduate in under three years. I'll come to find you in Shanghai."

"Okay." Gwen reached out and touched her fingers to Elvia's phantom appendages. With a hook and pull, the two girls made a pinky promise across space and time. "That's a promise."

Elvia nodded fiercely.

"All right, time to go. I got a helluva day tomorrow," Gwen announced. "If possible, I'll Message you and let you know the results. I'll think of you when I murder… er, maybe not. Either way, knowing you're around, I'll be fine."

"You have to. I'll be waiting. I am not going anywhere until you do." Elvia's white face filled the projection.

"I promise. Goodnight, Evee. I'll call or Message."

Elvia kept nodding, mumbling promises until Gwen hung up.

Gwen stared at the projector as though in a trance.

"You all right?" Petra met her at the bedroom door in her nightie, ready to sleep.

Gwen turned her gaze upward, then nodded.

"Rest well. I'll wake you at oh eight hundred sharp," Petra announced. "Master Messaged me earlier. Everything is arranged. We'll be going to Tilanqiao Prison first thing."

"The…" Gwen felt her scalp crawl. "The Blue Basket Prison?"

"Yeah." Petra reached out to touch her increasingly clammy hands.

Tilanqiao Prison.

Even Gwen knew about the infamous prison located in the Hongkou District. The compound had been built by the British Mageocracy during the Colonial Occupation and had later been taken over by the Ministry of Public Security. It serves as a nightmarish symbol of the shadow cast over Shanghai by the Ministry of State Security and the Internal Security Bureau. The stories that escaped from the prison were pure nightmare fuel. False imprisonment, extortion, torture, the murder of political prisoners, organ harvesting—there was little that escaped Tilanqiao Prison. It was a five-star fortress of atrocities worthy of Orwell's Mini-Luv moniker.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Petra urged her.

When Gwen finally came to clarity and self-awareness, she was already in bed and Petra had returned to her room. Shivering, she slid her body snugly into the silky cotton.

“Evee… Evee… Eve…” Gwen invoked the mantra of peaceful sleep. But try as she might, Hypnos refused to give his blessing.

Chapter twelve

Detours

To her shame, Gwen fell asleep on her babulya's shoulders. She had been kept awake by a wild night of increasingly anxious speculations until her babulya's care brought on what ten hours of darkness had failed to provide.

When was the last time I felt so nervous? The HSC perhaps, the Australian University Entrance Exams. Gwen recalled swallowing her vomit as she’d sat at the exam table.

Now she was nearing another test.

The killing joke was that Gwen herself was the executor of the murderous scenario, arguably more challenging than writing three thousand-word essays on Tess of the d'Urbervilles and W.B. Yeats.

They were about to enter Tilangqiao Prison—a place synonymous with living hell.

Inevitably, they arrived.

When Gwen looked up, she became oppressed by the infamous gate of the Tilangqiao Prison, five meters tall and three meters across, looming over their vehicle.

Once inside, the word that came to mind was austere. The gate was concrete and sandstone, with several layers of square tiles in scarlet making up the threshold, weathered to the hue of dried blood. What was imposing was the thickness of it, the weight of the high walls that stretched until a corner bent it out of sight. Above, four sentry towers marked its perimeter, with a fifth central building watching over the rest. From the ground, the tallest building was only five storeys. As for its depth, Gwen had read once that no one but the highest officers of the MSS and ISC knew the true extent.

The sedan pulled away. Magister Wen had said she'd meet them inside, while Magus Kumiko had stated she would not join them. As a Japanese national, she had no desire to visit the famous prison.

The guard at the gate examined their papers before Messaging his superior. His eyes lingered first on Petra, then on Gwen.

As a Mage prison, Tilanqiao was unisex, though the two genders were housed in separate areas and overseen by gender-segregated staff. However, the token attempt at curbing abuse did not prevent certain rumours from escaping from the prison and into the public.

To her immense relief, the giant gates did not boom open to swallow them. Instead, a side gate, near invisible, pushed itself open. A short, balding man with a greasy forehead emerged, scanning the three women with deadened eyes.

"My name is Ji Tongli. You can call me Warden Ji. Good to see you again, Director Song," the unassuming man said before shaking their hands. Gwen noticed his fingers were so calloused that they felt like toad skin.

The women introduced themselves in turn.

"I will take you to Professor Wen." The stoic official offered them neither small talk nor an attempt at amiability. "You may follow me. Keep your hands against your torso. Do not speak to anyone. Do not touch anything. Ms Song and Ms Kuznetsova, you will be scanned by diagnostic Scrying, but you will not be physically searched. That is the greatest courtesy I can offer. Should you betray my confidence in Director Song, a cell will be your abode until further notice. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." The girls stood to attention.

As per Babulya's instructions, the girls were fully attired, preferencing tight, non-magical clothing without pockets. Only their hair and faces remained exposed for identification. The girls had also been advised to leave everything at home or in their storage rings except for passive-effect magical items.

The foursome soon entered the side corridor. Above, multiple Daylight spells were in full effect, with sterilising light erasing all shadows.

At the end of the corridor was another set of doors presided over by two guards. Gwen detected that one was likely a Transmuter, while the other was an Enchanter. They were low-tier, at least, lower than her. She noted the wands they carried on their thighs.

Warden Ji conversed with his guards in low murmurs.

"It's all right, dear. We're perfectly safe." Their babulya comforted her granddaughter and grand-niece. "We're not going by the prison blocks. We're going straight to the middle chamber, where the interrogations happen."

The glow of glyphs faded. The double door opened. The foursome proceeded.

Gwen noted that the Warding Glyphs reactivated instantly as the doors slid closed. As their party penetrated the prison, an oppressive presence, palpable and tangible, lingered in the corridor, growing more ominous with each successive section.

"Magic dampening," Petra informed her cousin, giving the physical repression a name. "Nothing but basic cantrips can activate here without explicitly excluding your mana signature."

To test Petra's theory, Gwen attempted a faux summon of her Familiars. When she activated her sigil and channelled her mana, a heavy sluggishness prevented her spells from completing the arcane circuits.

"Unpleasant, isn't it?" Petra said.

Gwen agreed. She felt numbness at the sensation of helplessness, a crippling sense of confusion from losing one's agency. A Mage without arcanistry was a king without his army, a carpenter without his tools, a NoM bereft of his limbs. It was why her grandfather had put her in a cell with anti-magic warding when she had first arrived in Shanghai.

The current corridor ended. Another set of doors. Another pair of guards followed, looking identical to every other guard and junction. The prison was intentionally built like a maze.

"This way," Ji directed the trio.

Though Gwen's babulya seemed at ease, Gwen was beginning to sweat, her nerves fraying as eyes, both physical and arcane, canvassed their bodies, likely examining them for potential.

The girls soon crossed a courtyard. It was their first sight of the open sky since entering the compound. Ten minutes in, Gwen felt like a lifetime had passed.

They were now in a wire cage section—the exercise yard, where the girls had their first glimpse at the prison population.

Having watched Oz, Prison Break, and, for her guilty pleasure, Orange is the New Black, Gwen was pretty sure she was an expert in prison stereotypes. Though she and Petra were demurely dressed in clothing that hid their figures, she did not doubt that Petra at least would cause a riot. After all, Tilanqiao was a prison—a mill of the human soul. Fresh meat was the only thing that could drive a man or a woman wild with anticipation in a place like this.

Instead, she met an eerie reality.

To their right, they saw the male prisoners. To their left, the smaller quadrant reserved for women was empty. A barrier separated the larger and lesser half of the prison from the space between the sections. It was evident the two genders did not mingle.

One of the scenes Gwen had been contemplating was the infamous incident from Silence of the Lambs when Clarice Starling copped a hair full of bodily fluids from the psychotic Migs.

But here, there was no hooting. No shouting or jeering. There wasn't the stomping of impassioned feet or the aggravation of violent men shaking the bars, frothing at the lips. There was only a sullen silence and the soft susurration of labouring men clinging to life.

There weren't nearly as many prisoners as Gwen had expected. A mere thirty or so Mages of various ages, almost exclusively Han-Chinese, sat at the benches or stood against the exercise bars, beyond which were shimmering Walls of Force. They stared at the girls with shrunken irises swollen with pink vessels, but the inmates did not move or make a sound.

They watched like dumb statues as the girls passed, led by the warden. To Gwen, the identically dressed men resembled flesh golems deprived of their scripts, awaiting command.

"Your stewardship is as steady as always," Klavdiya said to the Warden of Tilangqiao.

"My job." Warden Ji snorted. "I do it well."

"That you do," her babulya confessed. "No deaths this month."

"No." Warden Ji's lips curled. "Thanks for your help."

Klavdiya's Healer's aura seemed to relax the tone of Ji's body language. Above them, the twenty-story concrete block in faded hues endearingly called the "The Blue Basket" sapped the sun's warmth as they stepped into the shade.

More guards met them at the door. They scanned the girls layered clothing with a wand.

Finally, after an hour of aimless wandering, the foursome entered the basement of the main building. The B1 was hollow at its centre, creating a long rectangular descent extending downwards in a double-helix spiral. The wind blowing from the interior had a strong scent of antiseptics.

"Gwen, Petra, you can close your eyes if you want," her babulya said after a moment of deliberation. "Nothing here of interest will do you any good."

Gwen and Petra regarded one another. Gwen thought nothing could be worse than being eaten alive by a Faceless skin changer. She couldn’t imagine what Petra was comparing it to.

The foursome waited for the levitation platform, which arrived a few minutes later, delivering a troop of four guards armed with lethal-looking implements on their thighs.

"Sir!" The guards saluted.

Ji inclined his head. "LG-24, Interrogation and Observation Chamber."

"Sir!" the operator hailed the command.

The platform began to move.

The familiarity of the transit system filled Gwen with a weird nostalgia. It reminded her of Sydney. Standing to attention beside Master Kilroy, she had traversed the Sydney Tower in this exact manner, guided by the Tower's staff. For the first time in a long time, Gwen pondered what had happened to those guards she had befriended, wondering if they had survived.

The girls saw their first “VIP” after twenty meters.

A gruff old Mage in orange overalls sat in a cell with nothing but an iron slab for a bed and a stainless-steel toilet bowl. The cell was too small for the man to fully stretch out his body, forcing him to use the bowl as a seat so he could fully extend his feet. As the party passed, his eyes widened. The man launched himself at the transparent pane, plastering his whole face, trying to get a glimpse of the two teenage girls.

"Dissident." Ji had been warmed up enough by Babulya to start playing the tour guide, speaking like a man describing the local fauna. "He tried to rile up the NoMs in Jiangsu against the local secretariat. After the local security forces lost him in the mountains, the Aerial Division stationed in Jiangsu caught him gifting his 'supporters' to the Jueyuan to garner their support."

"What's that?" Gwen couldn't help her curiosity. "Jueyuan, I mean."

"Humanoid apes," Ji replied. "The Jueyuan elders know how to use magic. The most distinct aspect of their society is that there are no females."

"How do they—" Gwen reflexively began. Petra stopped her right there.

Ji continued to explain, seeming humoured by the girl's interactions.

"When a clan of Jueyuan gets out of hand, they become a force of reckoning. A small outpost is no match for a troop of a hundred Jueyuan. Even a teenage one can rip your arm off with its bare hands. Not to mention their shamans can use primitive Clerical and Druidic magic. They need to multiply, and they're fond of humans."

The girls said nothing. The levitation platform descended. The party continued past a dozen other prisoners, with Ji providing them with what passed for entertaining anecdotes.

"That last one, the one with her pants off? She's a real piece of work." Ji's voice remained entirely flat and unassuming, even as the girls' faces were crimson from the last encounter.

The moment Gwen had met eyes with the deranged female inmate, it was as though a strange compulsion had overcome her senses. The crazed woman had torn away her prisoner's uniform and spread herself against the invisible pane. Then her babulya had forced the girls to turn away from the obscene sight.

"Forbidden magic, that one." Ji chortled coldly. "Some lost clan or another. Her magic involves a forgotten yin-yang witchcraft where she drains her victim's vitality through coitus. It was a thing, I am told, back in the dynasties. The self-styled emperors used such methods to prolong their longevity, going through dozens of concubines a month. She looked your age when she first came in. Without replenishment, she's gone back to her real age."

Gwen had taken a good gander before Babulya had thwarted their curiosity. The woman had looked to be in her forties, looking like a meth addict from her old world.

"Filthy wretches, the lot of them." According to Ji, no one imprisoned in Tilangqiao was “innocent” or undeserving. Gwen chose to take the man's words with a grain of salt.

The bottom of the LG-24 was where they finally arrived. More PLA correctional officers secured the room beyond.

"After you." Ji motioned to the women.

The party entered.

Gwen felt a trickle of ice puckering the segments of her spine. As they entered the rectangular chamber, Gwen felt the magic Dampening fall away, though she was sure it could be reactivated at any time.

She looked up from her lead-like feet.

There he was. Her victim.

In the middle of the desolate room, dressed in bright orange, was a man brass-bound to an anchored chair. The man sat without sound; his body slumped and passive. His face was hooded, with a section in breathable mesh.

Gwen approached the man in a trance, as though her body was no longer hers. She was a marionette pulled by stubborn strings.

"Gwen, I am glad you're here," a voice issued from above. The party chased the source until they faced the far-right wall. The wall was Illusory, Gwen realised, something akin to a one-way mirror. "I am here with a few officials from the ministry and the Pudong Tower. You've met them before. We're ready to proceed when you are."

The voice was Magister Wen's.

A thrum of magic could be sensed flowing through the walls. From the prickling on her skin, Gwen knew it to be the activation of the diagnostic spells particular to the Cognisance Chamber.

She forced herself to face the hooded prisoner. So what now? She'd do the deed, then leave for lunch? Should she talk to the man? Or look him in the eyes? Could she explain why he must now die?

"What was his crime?" Gwen asked. Magister Wen had promised that her victim would be thoroughly vetted.

"Terrible and heinous, I assure you. A mass murderer. It's all confirmed." Magister Wen's voice came from somewhere indistinctly above. "Warden, if you will?"

Warden Ji moved to discard the man's hood.

"That's not what we agreed on," Babulya moved to stop Ji. "What's the point of seeing his face? Just get this over and done. We're not here for sadism. We're here for knowledge."

"It's all right, Babulya," Gwen intervened. "I want to see. I need to see. I am taking this man's life. How can I not give him a final measure of respect? Warden, may I have the honours?"

"Gwen…" her babulya's face was equal parts concern and fatalism.

Annoyed by the delay, Ji stepped back. Gwen took a deep breath, then approached. The hood came off. The regret she felt was immeasurable.

"There she is. Is she ready?"

Magister Wen affirmed that Gwen was indeed ready as Warden Ji led the party into the room below them.

A troop of military men stood beside the Magister by the observation window, with a fourth leaning casually against the far wall.

Far from Wen was Wing Commander Derrick Webber, standing ramrod straight and looking downwards toward her specimen with benevolence and goodwill. Major Wong of the Internal Security Bureau was adjacent, more relaxed than his western counterpart. Tilangqiao was, after all, Wong's home ground.

The man closest to Wen was the Committee Chair of the Ministry of State Security, her specimen's grandfather, Klavdiya Song's husband, Guo Song. The man's face was a mask of unknowable impassivity.

Then there was their fourth, an uninvited guest.

Jun Song. The Ash Bringer. A man who had outlasted all expectations of his volatile elemental talent to become the Hero of the Northern Front.

Decades ago, Marie-Roslyn Wen had offered to dissect Jun's talent in return for research that would preserve his body against the Ash talent. The family had refused. Not even her friend and confidant, Klavdiya Song, then only a department head, had consented to her offer.

For a long while, Wen had wondered if someone from the PLA had considered scrutinising Guo's bloodline for signs of demi-human ancestry. Guo was Salt. Hai was Salt. Jun was Ash. And now Gwen was Void and Lightning. They were a group of very talented people with a rare genealogy.

Thankfully, the old dog's loathing of his granddaughter was an act of serendipity, a convergence of stars that had driven Klavdiya to her for aid. Were it not for fate, Magister Wen could not have imagined that, in her remaining lifetime, there would be an opportunity to investigate the incomplete research abandoned by Henry Kilroy and Elizabeth Sobel.

As for why Guo loathed the girl, Wen had a theory. She believed, notwithstanding imperfect evidence, that Gwen must be a bastard. The eldest son absconded, had he not? And now he returned with a teenage daughter. She had uncovered that Gwen's “mother” was a worthless Fire Mage! Two tiers from an NoM. Who was Hai kidding? How would a Salt Mage and a Fire Mage produce a Lightning-Void progeny? What freakish miracle was that?

So she’d dug deeper, sending out feelers into the Commonwealth's Towers the more she uncovered. She found that information on Gwen was censured! Not only that, it was at the behest of none other than The Morning Star, Gunther Shultz! When Wen had further enquired with the desperate Klavdiya, she’d learned Gwen had been attached hip to hip with Henry Kilroy before he’d died.

The puzzle pieces were falling into place.

Sobel was the single most accomplished Void Mage in modern history. Kilroy was her spouse, the pioneer of research on Sobel's talent.

So what did that make Gwen, the only Void Mage to flourish thereafter? Coincidence?

Wen did not believe in coincidence. With the data gleaned from Gwen's Negatively Drained body, Wen was sure she would be hailed as the premier academic of her generation, the progenitor publisher of an original theory. Meister Marie-Roslyn Wen would be the godmother of a new branch of elemental magic, to be recalled, remembered and referenced ten thousand times over, immortalised in the appendices.

Whenever she thought about the future within her grasp, Wen felt an insatiable hunger, an unquenchable drive to push the girl just a little bit further. She had done well so far.

The incident at D-109 had been just the beginning, a touchstone. The persuasion of Klavdiya had followed. Now, the Towers from the PLA and Pudong had pledged their support. Both sides had offered her unfettered liberty in exchange for a means to generate Void Mages. As dangerous as such beings might prove, the potential to cow the demi-humans as Sobel had done was immensely appealing to men like Gunther Shultz.

But why was the Ash Bringer there?

Even now, Wen couldn't comprehend why the Ash Bringer weighed her with an annoying smirk. To her knowledge, the former Grey Ghost was no longer a part of Internal Security. Has he taken on a more covert role? Or was the man there in the capacity of an uncle? Her imperfect knowledge irked Wen to no end.

The victim she had chosen for Gwen was perfect. Lu Bing was a clanner from the Frontier District of Qingcheng with a taste for Mage blood. The boy had awoken as a Dust Mage, then succeeded as a Conjurer-Illusionist. It was unfortunate that the young man had acquired a Scroll of Drain Life from the Rogue Mages, outlaw practitioners of Necromancy, learned the spell and transformed into a serial killer. For years, Qingcheng City had been convinced that a Ghoul was loose in the sewers. It wasn't until Bing's gluttony had outgrown his caution that he’d been discovered. A chaotic melee had ensued, resulting in the death of two acolytes and a Senior Mage.

Since then, the man had been imprisoned in stasis for almost two years.

Would devouring the Dust Mage increase Gwen's Affinity to the Void? Would Gwen acquire Illusion as a school? Were there diminishing returns on how many tiers she could steal from others? How about the girl's VMI? Did that have a limit?

These were legitimate questions for herself and her specimen.

Wen was also interested in the mental and physiological aspects of the Void and its impact on the user. Was the hunger an addiction or was it madness, as Sobel had shown? Could it be controlled or was it more akin to a gradual transformation?

The more Gwen could be pushed, the more accurate her statistics. Then the girl would break, but that was also important data. As with Material Spellcraft, the breaking point was crucial knowledge. Hadn’t Gunther Shultz once boasted that the girl couldn't be broken? Gwen had only herself to blame if she did.

But none of her considerations addressed why Jun Song now bothered her.

"Welcome, Gwen," she stated to those below. "We're ready to proceed when you are."

Klavdiya had wanted the man's face covered. It was a stupid sentiment, but Wen had allowed it.

"I want to see," the girl said.

Wen almost snorted. The girl was entirely uptight and self-righteous! Maybe she was Guo's granddaughter. That part of them was practically identical.

The hood came off.

Wen's mind grew blank.

Beneath it was a familiar face. A face Wen had never seen in real life but whom she knew from an exchange a little more than a week ago. "Choi?" She let loose a shrill scream, then immediately regretted her tale-telling outburst.

Her eyes darted to Jun and then to Guo. Cold sweat oozed across her back, drenching her linen blouse. She had to circulate a sliver of Mineral-tinged mana through her body to steady the pounding of her heart, forcing her skin to retain its unflushed paleness.

How the fuck is Choi here? Her mind rioted with speculations. What is the meaning of this?

"Secretariat Choi?" Gwen could hear the blood pounding her skull.

"Choi?" The voice that came from above suggested that the Magister was no less surprised than Gwen.

Secretary Choi's beady eyes were now two dilated orbs staring into the middle distance. It took only one glance to know that the space between the man's eyes was devoid of all discourse.

Gwen was unpleasantly reminded of Magister Lee's mockery of the Resurrection spell, where he’d ridiculed the idea that the body could be utilised even if the mind was gone.

Forcing herself to breathe again, she leaned in closer to the secretariat's face, watching her pallid appearance reflected in his glassy orbs.

"Where's Lu Bing?" Magister Wen snapped at her audience before realising that she had trespassed protocol. She was a civilian; they were the PLA Towers. If anything, they should be the ones dressing her down. "Please accept my apologies. I was merely surprised that my candidate had been replaced."

She felt her skin prickle with goosebumps when she met their mocking eyes. They're all in on it! The thought struck Wen like one of Gwen's Flashbangs. The bastards!

"Miss Wen," Guo began, his choice of title inferring just how little he thought of her. "Let me make a point very clear for you. Gwen is a Void Mage, and a Void Mage is a Calamity waiting to happen. Unfortunately, others, like my colleague here, are in disagreement."

Guo's bulldog face barely moved as he spoke, giving the MSS hound master the impression of an inexpressive statue. The filtered glow from the Illusory wall further cast an indifferent light across his hawk-like nose.

"For this reason, I understand that rumours have circulated of my dismissal of Gwen. Not true. Yes, I do not trust the girl. She is an anomaly, an impossibility made flesh. And I resent her allegiance with the late Henry Kilroy."

The old hound's presence seemed to grow as his voice fell lower. Though Wen stood perfectly still, she felt cornered by an ancient beast. That was the difference between an academic against one who had survived a global conflict and a civil war, followed by a political purge.

"But my dislike, my loathing, my repudiation of my granddaughter are private matters—a personal preference. If Klavdiya wishes to aid Gwen, that is her choice, her undertaking. I have to respect her decisions. If Klavdiya believes her actions are for the best, I will not interfere, just as she has not intervened in mine."

The MSS secretary's voice dropped an octave. Magister Wen was sure her shirt was now drenched.

"You, on the other hand, who do you think you are, Miss Wen? You're an ex-pat, not even a member of our Communist Party. You're from the Commonwealth, are you not? Your parents fled to England. That's where you received your education. Your loyalties are only to yourself. You don't respect my wife. You don't respect the girl you're using. You don't even care for my grandniece, your apprentice, who thinks the world of you. They're just pieces of a puzzle to you."

Magister Wen did not offer a rebuttal. Even if she could, she had to wait until her body resumed its full faculty. She was reminded of the rumour that Guo was a Mind Mage. Wen was no slouch against charms, but the man's mental pressure was immense!

"Jun."

When Guo turned away from Magister Wen, his son approached. "Observe the fate of Secretariat Choi." Jun tilted his head in the direction below. "Magister, you're a researcher, a damn good one. But even the best researcher can't write her papers from a cell in Tilangqiao."

Wen felt her spine twist when the prison's name played across Jun's lips. Her eyes drifted toward Wong and Webber.

"We fully support your research, Magister." Wong inclined his head. "This is a private matter between you and the Song family."

"I am inclined to agree." Wing Commander Webber furrowed his brows. "Certainly, Pudong would prefer a more organic approach to Miss Song's Void talent. I must inform you, madam, that there exists a long-standing request from Magus Shultz that Pudong ensures the safety and freedom of Miss Song in Shanghai. Had I known that today and the district incident were begotten by yourself, I would have advised patience."

Neither rebukes nor agreements, Wen noted. She wouldn't die today. "I would hardly think it's fair to—" she protested.

"Klavdiya was upset. Very upset," Guo interjected suddenly. "I hadn't seen her so stricken since the purge when her friends were accused."

The man's voice made Wen wish she had shut her mouth.

"I see what you're trying to do. I do not condone what you are trying to do." Guo's eyes were now observing his granddaughter. "But I suppose a Calamity is called as such precisely because it cannot be avoided."

Wen decided remaining silent was likely her best option for the time being. They watched the girl break over Choi's mind-cleansed appearance.

"Magister." Guo's decision to use her proper title filled Wen with immense relief. "Do your job. Nothing more."

Magister Wen forced her fingers to curl into a fist. The Path of Spellcraft never ran smoothly. These militant meatheads would never understand. Like the old Faustian allegory, the ends justified the means as long as knowledge could be gained. Who could judge a Meister after the fact?

Desist? She had run this far without pausing for breath. How could she stop now?

"Gwen, please proceed," Magister Wen's command called out from above after an uncomfortably long silence.

Before Gwen could summon her wits, a familiar figure appeared beside the three women and the warden.

"Uncle Jun." Gwen's greeting had a tone of ambivalence. She did not want to see her uncle when she was in such an immature state. That said, much of her present circumstance was beginning to make sense now.

"Gwen." Jun grinned at her. "I've prepared a dossier of Choi's inglorious service to the state. The secretariat could have died ten times over, and his sentencing would have been insufficient."

"It's all right, Uncle." Gwen had mixed feelings about her uncle's intrusion. "I trust that you—"

"Don't." Jun halted her flattery and then handed over a data slate. "Trust yourself first and foremost. Please read it, then make a decision. If you choose to quit, I support that as well."

Gwen turned her attention to the slate, where the magic parchment showed MSS records for Choi's confessions extracted via a cocktail of Compel Truth and Enfeeble Mind.

"Jun." Her grandmother hugged her son.

"Uncle." Petra shook his hand.

"Mother. Petra," Jun greeted the others in turn. "Let's give Gwen some space."

Above, there was only sullen silence from Magister Wen.

Distribution of Illicit Substance. Human Trafficking. High Treason.

The jargonistic “state” crime list for Choi made little sense to Gwen, though career highlights such as the trafficking of underage Mages stood out to her.

According to the transcript, Choi had been running 109 like a dynastic bureaucrat-scholar, making the locals fight and quarrel for stability and amusement. As for treason, Choi had confessed to trading state-sanctioned magic tools, glyphs and materials to Wildland rogues in exchange for precious ingredients and exotic fauna.

The verdict from Internal Security was “summary execution”, followed by reducing the man's remains to ash to prevent Necromantic tempering.

Choi was a dead man walking. And she was to be his deliverer.

Gwen returned the slate to Jun.

"Gwen, don't fret. Choi was such a babbling lunatic by the third reading that we had to Mind Blank him to prevent him biting off his tongue."

So I am executing not only a condemned criminal but also a vegetable. She knew it was ungrateful to resent her uncle, but having her resolve deflated in such a manner felt like a slap.

She approached the man formerly known as Secretariat Choi until she was an inch from his face. "Mr Choi, do you know me?" She gazed into the man's empty eyes once more.

"Nurrrgh."

"I am Gwen Song," she declared. "I was there in D109. You sent Nephres Zalaam after me. I Consumed her with my Void abilities. In a few moments, I will consume you as well. If you want to say anything, you can make your peace now."

Choi drooled, his eyes unblinking.

Gathering her wits, she put some space between them. "Caliban!"

The netherworld worm slipped into the material plane. "Shaa-shaa!" Anticipating what was to come, Caliban opened its head carapace to reveal two tentacles, one cobalt and the other crimson.

"I am proceeding," Gwen informed the assembly above. The thrumming floor increased in pitch, its diagnostic magic cranked to full.

As Caliban came closer, Choi's body began to shudder, shivering as though he was cold, then with greater violence as the netherworld worm coiled around his torso. When Caliban came as close to his face as Gwen had, Choi thrashed in his seat. "NEeeaaagh! Neaaaagh!"

The sound from his lips was like that of a bleating goat. The ex-secretariat struggled with such ferocity that the skin of his wrists broke, opening a vein on his cubby-white forearm. A spurt of arterial blood escaped as the man strained against the brass manacles, sending a dash of crimson to splash onto Gwen's white runners.

Jun's expression soured. "Gwen, just do it."

"I need to see this," Gwen's voice drifted across the room. "I can't avert my eyes, Uncle Jun, not now. Not ever. No matter what Secretariat Choi has done, he isn't a side of veal we're feeding to Caliban."

"Gwen." Her uncle's jaws set displeasingly.

"I am sorry." Gwen redoubled her focus. "Please bear with my wilfulness for a little longer. Caliban!"

Before its observers, the serpent engorged, its carapace splitting until the formerly six-foot snake became a nine-foot pulsating monstrosity of chitin and bruised flesh. Two lamprey-tipped tentacles shot toward Choi, one ramming into his throat while the other penetrated his abdomen.

Choi's body shook; a hint of hysterical terror came and went. His eyes rolled upwards as muscle and ligament distended.

Gwen stood only half a meter away, her shoes spotted with gore, her pearly teeth gnashing fiercely until her gums bled.

My choice, my responsibility, my remorse. Gwen had to burn this moment into her mind, or else she was no better than her Master's estranged and insane wife.

CRACK!

The grotesque onomatopoeia indicated that there was now enough of Caliban inside Choi's chest to overburden the ribcage. If the man could scream, Gwen felt she could forever kiss the sweet innocence of sleep goodbye.

Without warning, Choi's stomach ballooned as though the man had become instantly pregnant. His bloodless mien lost all expression. There was a final twitch, and Choi's limp head hung against his spine.

The heart, the liver, the brain—Gwen suppressed the repugnance rising from the pit of her stomach.

She would burn this vision into her skull.

"Hurrrgh!" Petra first lost the fight against her body's rebellious revulsion. The Mineral Mage materialised a crystalline cube and deposited her breakfast.

Gwen meanwhile, patiently anticipated her tithing of Caliban's harvest. It came.

The euphoria that struck her was between a tier III Tusker Boar and half a Nephres Zalaam. Akin to the Schmidt Pain Index, Gwen figured she should mentally compile a Caliban Index, with Nephres at ten and the small fry at one. With an arm holding onto Babulya for support, she weathered the grotesque tide of pleasure gnashing her innards, perceiving herself as a standing stone amidst breaking waves. Her limbs shook even as Gwen's fingers gripped her grandmother's shoulders, clenching until it was pale and bare-knuckled.

But she held on, conscious and lucid.

"Enchantment and Illusion," Jun informed her, clearly disapproving her pigheadedness. "Those are Choi's Schools of Magic. Tier IV Illusion was his natural talent. Tier IV Enchantment was what he chose as his minor, though I'd dare say Enchantment was the more skilful of the two. It took us quite some time to get through his mental shielding. As for his element, I believe it was Water."

Gwen opened her eyes. She could iMage what the others must be seeing, a girl whose orbs were alive with vivid vitality; with her irises a brilliant emerald and citrine-topaz.

"Gwen, how do you feel?" Magister Wen's voice resounded from up on high.

"I feel… myself."

The perpetual hunger she had endured for the week had entirely disappeared, making her wonder if all her suffering had been a waking dream. Her hand’s complexion became rosy and flushed, her limbs brimming with potential. She stood straighter and felt taller; her stoop disappeared and her swan's neck held her aloft effortlessly.

Petra packed away her Vomit Cube. ”Sorry." Her cousin looked away. "I thought I could stomach it, but in hindsight, I was weak."

"Gwen, can you activate Enchantment and Illusion Sigils now?" Compared to Petra's introspection, the voice of Wen from above was breathless with curiosity.

"I don't know how," Gwen said. She’d never had the choice to learn any spells from those schools. "Caliban might take a while to transfer those talents."

"Unsummon Caliban," her voice suggested. "Perform your usual meditation. As I said before, all the necessary components for recognising sigils are part of a theory by indoctrination. You couldn't miss it if you tried."

Caliban returned to its docile form entirely of its own volition. Gwen reached down and picked up the bloody worm bodily.

Her babulya and Jun gave each other another worried look. Gwen starkly smiled. Calmly, she wiped Choi's bodily fluids from Caliban's seamless face, then gazed at her bloody hands.

"Shaa?" Caliban struggled in her arms, nodding its faceless mien and wagging its spear-like tail.

"Return."

Caliban dematerialised.

Gwen turned her mind inward until she was within her inner world. Wen was right. The recognition of sigils was ingrained knowledge. Through her mind's eye, she saw past the glowing beacon of Evocation, beyond the silver brilliance of her Conjuration and a multitude of others, until she caught the pale-blue illumination of Illusion. There was no Enchantment. She saw nothing of the school's ochre-gold glow.

Gwen opened her eyes. "Illusion." She breathed out. "I feel it."

A pair of janitors had been called in to clear away Choi's body. The corporals came in with impassive faces, zipped up Choi's corpse in a dark polyester bag, leaving with numb expressions. When they passed Gwen, she sensed the fear radiating from them like a stench.

"Very good, we're done here." Magister Wen's voice had such relief that one might have thought she had been compelled to be present by coercion. "We'll be having another biometric session Sunday midday, twenty-four hours from now."

"Yes, ma'am," Gwen replied.

With a flick of the wrist, Gwen produced a cleansing cube. A single LDM later, she was once again pristine. The irony did not escape her as she snorted mockingly at her particular regard for cleanliness.

Gwen then turned to her silent family, who'd been watching her ritual with mild alarm. "Babulya, everyone, shall we?"

"I don't suppose lunch is out of the question?" Jun half-jokingly suggested. "Maybe vegetarian?"

Petra's pale face indicated that lunch was the last thing on her mind. Gwen gave her a brief hug, squeezing Petra against her arms and telling her not to worry.

The role reversal seemed to have caught the prideful girl off-guard.

"Dessert and ices, I think," Klavdiya suggested. The director then turned to her son with a bemusement expression. "Jun, can you tell me why your father is up there?"

Gwen froze. Has Grandfather been watching?

"Ah. You knew?" Jun scratched his head. "I thought those walls hid everything, even Detection spells."

"I know now." Their babulya chuckled mischievously. "I was wondering why Marie had suddenly become so timid. I take it Guo's poured cold water over her?"

"Grandfather…" Gwen glanced up, imagining his coal-like eyes looking down. Gods! He saw me feed Caliban! The blood! The gore! The monstrous nature of it all! He must think that she was bat-shit insane by now.

"Don't fret." Babulya touched a finger to Gwen's cheeks. "Let's have tea first. Then we can talk."

"I'll leave Gwen in your careful hands, Mother. I am going back to base," Jun informed them. He bowed toward his mother, then turned toward his niece. "Remember what we discussed. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

"Thank you, Uncle Jun. For looking out for me." Gwen hugged him gratefully.

Remorse, she reminded herself, thinking of her boastful promise to Henry and Sufina. The day she no longer felt remorse was the day she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the woman who’d murdered her Master.

Watching Jun depart with a wink and a grin, Gwen put a hand to her chest, searching for the oppressive presence of conscience.

Her heart was calm. Disquietingly calm.

Chapter thirteen

Laughing the Night Away

In stark contrast to the prison, the rest of the afternoon was spent in quiet relaxation at an open-air garden café.

Extraction from the prison had been more convenient, with Jun and the warden escorting their guests through uncomplicated side passages.

"No Teleportation Circles exist for going out," the warden informed them, friendlier now that her uncle was the shepherd.

Gwen figured she wouldn't want to be Teleporting in either.

Though the grotesque execution remained a recent memory, their desire to discuss Choi's mercy-killing was extinguished once the group exited Tilangqiao's austere interior. Jun parted from the girls, and they caught Klavdiya's chauffeured sedan toward the Bund.

Once the smell of blood had been sufficiently diluted by a precisely brewed pot of Buddha's Tears, Babulya griped that both girls did not yet have boyfriends.

"Gwen's still a lass, but Petra, you've been here for almost three years. You're nineteen and then some!"

"I am not interested in relationships." Petra shrugged, sipping her high-grade Jasmine.

"Dear St Peter. I hope Wen's asexual obsession with Spellcraft isn't rubbing off on you."

Despite the lack of hilarity, the trio laughed and snickered. There was a foolish hysteria about the cheer, for it felt like Gwen and her family were drunk on laughter.

"No, Babulya, that's not it." To avoid spilling the tea, Petra had to return her cup to the table. "I am more interested in finishing my thesis on the spell cubes. The project belongs to me now that Magister Wen is no longer keen on its completion."

"I saw a guy asking after you. Baili, I believe? He looked like a top bloke. Why not give him a chance?" Gwen poked at her cousin mischievously.

"How about you?" Petra poked back. "There are lots of rumours, you know. I can dismiss Kusu. That guy's a sister-holic, but how about Dai? His cousin was very upfront about how much the Princeling of Nantong asked after you."

"Dai is merely a bloke who owes me a favour." Gwen brushed Petra's riposte aside with a deft parry. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"The Fung Clan has a good reputation," Babulya said. "They shouldered the cost of developing Nantong and even opened up their clan's secrets to the Towers. A very progressive group of clanners; a new wave, if you will. Nothing wrong with being nice if they're courteous."

The girls went on talking, and Babulya chimed in now and then. They paraded around the prickly perimeter of the morning's events like women circling a barrel cactus.

The tea was refilled by an NoM waitress several times. The triple-tier of petit fours disappeared, as did the black-sesame chiffon cake, a house special.

"I’d better head back," Babulya informed the girls. "I bet Guo's got a long list of grievances to launder."

"I understand. Thanks for everything, Babulya." Gwen offered to pay for the meal, but their babulya would not have it. "Thank Grandfather as well."

"Take care of her, Petra. Gwen, take care of Petra as well."

"We will, Babulya," the girls replied in unison.

The military saloon arrived a minute later. The girls watched their grandmother go.

"It's still early," Petra tried to read her face for an outbreak of sudden distress.

"I want to learn Illusion spells." Her conviction surprised herself, as she had originally planned to mope and simmer in misery for a few days at least.

"To the library then? Reserved access offers common incantations from tier I to III."

"You beauty! We'll go there first and then to the Henglong Laboratory." Gwen stood from the chair and unwrinkled her clothes. "I want to surprise Tao."

The girls first returned to the lab to receive Gwen's results.

Gwen and Petra discussed viable Illusion spells as Magister Wen did the necessary measurements on Gwen's new biometrics.

Though not at the level of her babulya's lab, Wen had loaned an indexing engine from Klavdiya's hospital to save Gwen from continually moving between Henglong and the Second Experimental.

"I am seeing 1.81 to 1.85," Magister Wen noted, scribbling into her data slate. "Congratulations, Gwen, you're an Illusionist now."

"Thank you, Magister. I appreciate your patience and experience."

"It's my job." Gwen detected a sarcastic ring to the Magister's voice, though she chose to disregard her passive-aggressive displeasure. A line had been drawn in the sand and now the proper thing was for the both of them to respect their distance. As Jun had said, give and take, nothing more.

"VMI—two hundred and twenty."

Gwen thanked the Magister for her work.

"I'll be drafting my reports to the Towers. Goodnight." Wen told Petra to lock up, then left the girls to their devices.

"Too bad you're not quite tier II," Petra waited until her Master was gone. "The good Illusion spells are all seven to nine major incantations or more. Invisibility, Mirror IMage, Magic Mouth, the works."

"I think I'll have my hands full," Gwen smirked. "Can't believe there was a spell called Invisible Familiar."

"I feel so sorry for whoever has to deal with Caliban now more than ever." Petra grinned, shaking her head. When her cynical laughter ceased, her cousin shook her head in wonder at whoever would now face Caliban.

Gwen thumbed the spell page she wanted to purchase.

Invisible Familiar

Illusion (1)

Casting time: 7 major, 2 minor incantation

Range: Close

Components: Somatic, verbal

Duration: Persistent

You wrap your Familiar in a shroud of invisibility. This spell functions as a Lesser Invisibility when applied to one's Conjured Familiar. The Familiar is nearly impossible to spot until it enters combat form. When in docile form, the spell remains active until the caster dismisses its effect or is OOM.

Combat functionality aside, having Caliban invisible was the most useful thing Gwen could imagine. Likewise, the spell would do wonders for her interactions with others if she wished to have Caliban manifested out of sight.

As with all Invisibility spells, she needed to register an application at the Tower to be sanctioned with its possession. Should she be discovered with an illicit possession of Disguise Self, Invisibility and other similar incognito-type incantations, she may be paying a more meaningful visit to Tilangqiao.

Besides Invisible Familiar, Gwen requested Clarion Calls, Ventriloquism, Auditory Hallucination and Disguise Self.

Disguise Self, in particular, she was keen on adding to her repertoire. The spell allowed for minor alterations to her attire, the colour of her hair and eyes, and allowed her general “aura” to be more eye-catching or discreet. It was questionable, however, if the spell would be allowed. As with Transformation and Polymorph Self, the CCP and the Mageocracy discouraged any magic that would complicate individual Mages' identification.

Week 8

Elvia had been informed of her new status as a murderess, as had her siblings-in-craft in Sydney. Alesia, in her usual bravado, told Gwen not to mind.

"Shit happens," the callous Battle Mage informed her. "Unless you're on the Frontier, all the tier I big wigs rise to the top by stepping on human corpses. Don't sweat it. Fuck ’em. Just so long as you're all right."

Gunther berated his hot-headed half of the household, then held a serious heart-to-heart with his Master's youngest. Her paternal brother-in-craft explained with great patience that her choice had shown great maturity and that he was proud of her decision to face Choi head-on.

"I am actually far more worried about Yue. I hope she doesn't take after Alesia too much." Gunther sighed, clearly exhausted from his work as chief administrator. "Look, we should get going. Gwen, you're the one who enlightened Master about Noblesse Oblige and Militant Pacifism. As we are your siblings, we're behind you. Do not doubt your choices, do what you think is necessary. Master trusted you because he saw something in you. You're not going to become Elizabeth Sobel."

Thank you! Gwen's fear of her Sydney family's disapproval vanished like snowmelt. Thank the guiding stars for Gunther and Alesia, even if her sister-in-craft possessed the emotional quotient of a yam.

As for the absent Yue, Gwen was told her friend was "living it up" on the Mermen Front, kicking ass and taking names. Already the soldiers were calling her "Little Red". The moniker alluded to Yue's Master, but the title amused Gwen.

"She is almost at tier V Evocation," Alesia said proudly. "Her Transmutation is coming along as well. Nothing like death and danger to get your tiers up."

Having thus received both confirmation and affirmation of her milestone, Gwen threw herself into her studies with a frightful passion. In addition to her classes, she practised and trained in the early morning and late afternoon across all her Schools of Magic.

Illusion proved to be a mixed bag. The spells she had acquired for utility worked perfectly. As for the ones she had learned to impress Tao, they proved far too challenging without a tutor.

Clarion Call was an easy spell she learned in a day, projecting her voice until she could be heard almost a kilometre away. She had nearly deafened herself when she’d tried it in her private training chamber.

Ventriloquism was more difficult. At higher levels of expertise, it was used explicitly in conjunction with other Illusion incantations, creating real and falsified sounds. All Gwen could do was throw her voice a dozen meters, which made for little more than an impressive party trick.

Auditory Hallucination was the spell that proved to be her first hurdle. As the chant manifested, she was meant to visualise, for the lack of a better word, the sound she wished to generate. However, she could not translate the "sound" within her mind into spells. It was as though she was feeding analogue signals into a digital system. After a few dozen attempts, she’d managed to mimic her speech. As for the music within her mind, the spell either failed or produced a jumble of sounds that jarred her ears.

On Thursday, she received the green light for Invisible Familiar but lost her appeal for Disguise Self. The reason was that the board did not deem her request productive and that the spell was unnecessary for a Fudan student. Furthermore, a supplement suggested that she was welcome to re-apply once she had "chosen" a career path, likely with the PLA.

The operative clauses did not escape Gwen. It was unlikely that the Towers would consent to disguise spells for someone in her shoes. They probably had their hands full just tracking her Teleportation Ring, for all she knew. Never mind that these Illusion spells would easily fail muster under a pair of diagnostic goggles or a Dispelling Ward. Any measure to aid her evasion was a measure too far.

Of course, she could ask for help from Gunther or Jun, but Gwen declined the temptation. There was no need to rock the boat… yet.

With Gwen's courses entering their final weeks, her workload drastically increased.

Magister Birch began introducing elements of Divination into his curriculum, dividing the class into those doomed to rely on devices and those gifted enough to progress to the next stage. Gwen took to Divination like an Undine to water, making the Magister whistle happily as she Dimension Doored to and fro, masterfully displacing herself from beacon to beacon.

As for Evocation, Magus Young made good on her promise of showing off Spirited Evocation. Each student received a chance to experience the IFF possessed by the lucky few. Lu volunteered when it was Gwen's turn, skilfully arcing blue flashes of plasma around her person to strike targets behind or beside her. When she enviously fluttered her lashes at Wanli, the hawk's Master demonstrated a new mastery. Unlike his first lesson with Instructor Chen, he could utilise the hawk's AOE without harming allies caught in its range.

For Gwen herself, she worked on pushing her Evocation toward tier V. Without Caliban's aid, it would take her at least until the middle of next year. For now, she would focus on the efficacy and speed of her Evocation incantations.

As for new spells, Magus Young recommended the late Magister Larsen's Ball Lightning.

"Until you get a spirit, seeking spells are likely your staple within a mass-melee," the Evoker advised.

The spell's cost was seventy-two CCs, not to mention that Gwen lacked the tiers necessary for the time being.

"You'll grow into it," Young informed her. "Think of it as loosening the tier-five bottleneck."

And so, the days whizzed by in the blink of an eye. If there was a solace to her workaholic ethic, the hectic schedule had driven any thoughts of Choi entirely from her mind.

After a few weeks, Gwen uncovered an unexpected boon proffered by her supernatural vitality. Gwen found that she never suffered from true physical exhaustion. Haggard as she might be after an eight-kilometre campus circuit, Gwen was up and ready five minutes later. Her only limitation was mental fatigue, which could be cured through sleep and meditation.

By week ten, Gwen had successively kept Caliban and Ariel manifested for eight days. She submitted the results to Instructor Chen, upon which she received his congratulatory accolades.

"That's the end of my course." Chen spread his hands. "You're welcome to keep attending, but if you want to progress further, go to the Front. Congratulations on passing."

Gwen insisted there was more to learn, but Chen shook his head.

Ariel had been a sterling example of obedience in the obstacle run. Caliban had also scored above average. Gwen thus considered Chen's words, taking to heart the military man's advice. The Front loomed large on her list of places to visit, but she would consult with Jun about whether the real experience was necessary for her to participate in the IIUC.

Economics moved from Macro to Micro as the term progressed, shifting from the resource trade between the cities, enabled by the mass-freight services between the Frontier and the tier-one hubs, to individual power brokers.

Cities such as London, with its proximity to friendly demi-humans, thrived not on mineral wealth, but on essential ingredients and reagents for spells, having access to the only trove of amicable Elves in the western world.

Other cities, such as Paris and Rome, thrived on lingering vestiges of soft power left over from their dynastic history, retaining unrivalled influence through their institutions.

A particularly interesting place that made her ears perk was the Vatican.

"The ultimate seat of Faith Magic," her instructor had blatantly stated as though reciting hypnopaedic dot points. Gwen had raised her hand, but Professor Jiang wasn't a Mage and couldn't explain the subtler definitions of Faith Magic.

Faith? The moniker smacked of mysticism. Her babulya had remarked more than once that there was no such thing as gods. If so, what constituted a deity? Even in Australia, religion was just that—a public spiritual service. It wasn't as though the cardinals and the bishops flew through the air at the behest of higher powers. Then again, the Frontier had gone so far as to censor Spellcraft textbooks. Lord knows what else the ordinary people of Sydney were kept from knowing.

Finally, when she asked Professor Ma, the academic provided some clues.

"Ha! Not even your average Magus would know the answer to that question." Ma chuckled. "What we know about Faith Magic is that it taps into the collated animus of those who believe in a particular doctrine. It's an ancient sort of magic; some say the Egyptian god-kings were the first pioneers, or the Israelites, though both of those 'faiths' have now reduced themselves to more orthodox forms of Spellcraft. I suppose the Christian Church has retained a stranglehold on Faith Magic for some time since they never lost their seat of power. No conquest, no diaspora, no loss of home or hearth. There were a few civil wars, Luther and all that, but they've kept together for the last two thousand years. The Knight Orders under the Britannic Mageocracy are famous for using Faith Magic."

"How come Fudan doesn't have a course on Faith Magic?" Gwen enquired.

"What a silly question!" Ma said. "Isn't it obvious? There are no state religions in China. All forms of organised faith are seen as a challenge to the CCP. Do you know what I think? All magic, in the end, is just Spellcraft. Any phenomenon that can't be explained is always seen as divine providence. That's why we have Spellcraft, to take us out of mystical antiquity and into the modern world of reason and rationality. Observable and replicable—that's our motto."

"I see, sir. Would you happen to know the mechanics behind Faith Magic?"

"You're barking up the wrong tree." Ma collected his lecture notes. "Don't overthink. Focus on what you do know. Your finals are coming up, yes? Don't get distracted. Excellent essay, by the way. A+. Keep up the good work."

"How come you know so much about Spellcraft, sir?” Gwen felt puzzled that neither Birch nor Young had answered her enquiry. Petra knew little to nothing about it either. She had said that Moscow Tower was ambivalent about Faith Magic, though religion held palpable influence across the Russian Frontier, especially in the Faith capital—St Petersburg.

"I came from a lineage family." Ma snickered tragically. "What can you do? If the gods do exist, they're cruel bastards. I suppose I did pretty well, though. Still, we can't all be Void and Lightning. Yes?"

The professor departed after that, leaving Gwen to regret that she had grazed an open wound.

"Dai would be very pleased if you could join him." Lu held an invitation for the heir apparent's twenty-second birthday in his hand.

The looks she was getting from those who had seen Lu's invite were palpably hostile.

"Tell Dai I won't be able to make it," Gwen said loudly. More quietly, she said she would thank Dai personally should a future opportunity arise. "I have a very important excursion and training for the IIUC tryout. I hope Dai can understand."

Lu seemed disappointed. The invitation was gifted regardless, in case Gwen "changed her mind".

Gwen was determined not to be tempted, though. She had no confidence in the people at these high society gatherings. So far, her encounters with assholes were almost one hundred percent. Either she lived under a blighted star or needed more clout to make herself irreproachably unapproachable, especially to those wooing her with questionable designs.

The weeks thus rolled by, and soon the time for examination was upon them.

Gwen prepared her mind and body as the countdown struck the final day of August. She had trained with Petra, sparred with Lulan and Kusu, and further polished her skills with Richard and Lea blocking her endless assault of Evoked and Conjured Lightning.

From a Paper Tiger… Gwen was confident she had graduated to become a Paper Dragon! She just hoped there wouldn't be Kusu and Lulan 2.0 waiting to challenge her during the practicals.

Chapter fourteen

Tempus Fugit

“You're telling me you've done… nothing? Not a single quest completed?"

Gwen felt unbound sympathy for her new friend.

Lulan sat on Gwen's living room lounge, her knees held against her chest, her expression glassy and miserable. The Sword Mage was impressively flexible, Gwen noticed. Though unemployed right now, the girl could find alternative employment as a contortionist.

Petra, Lulan, Kusu, Richard and Gwen had enjoyed a celebratory dinner in her apartment before Monday's Finals. As the Mages took turns discussing recent events, Lulan confessed that she hadn't been questing.

"What happened?" Gwen enquired, curious as to why someone with Lulan's skills would be excluded.

"Eh, I joined a purge party around week nine," Lulan explained. "But…"

As it turned out, the clan-organised party had been instructed to isolate her. After entering the Jiangxi Orange Zone, her party members had immediately snubbed the Sword Mage. Having brought only a week's supply of rations, she’d had to forage for food and water and make her shelter. When she’d accused the party leader, the man turned the rest of the party against her, citing her violent past and infamous reputation as a traitor. No longer clouded by the red mist, Lulan had been lost as to her next course of action, knowing that if she killed or maimed them, she would probably never again return to Shanghai.

When she’d returned in week eleven, she’d fallen into depression and slept in the apartment for about a week.

"Those bastards! You should have come to us immediately." Gwen gnashed her pearly teeth. Caliban stirred beside her, licking its chops. "Who are they? We'll visit them right now."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Kusu said, ever the cool-headed one. "Lulu and I, we need to keep our heads down. Maybe it's best to get pushed around for a while. This way, they can 'forget' about us. We're just going to be glaring targets otherwise."

"Huashan has a stick up their arses." Gwen's complaint was low and grumbling. "Should I talk to Uncle?"

"It's not our clan." Lulan shook her head. "It's everyone else."

Clanners, then. Clanners in general.

"Maybe I should drop out? Take six months of leave?" Lulan wondered aloud, watching Gwen's face. "I could be in the same year as you and Kusu then."

That was more like dropping two years, Gwen explained to her. It was too much time wasted for what was essentially a problem resolvable with a little tenacity and a lesson delivered via an Iron Sword.

Gwen was almost considering whether she could speak to Dai for that favour when her cousin chimed in his two cents.

"Look," Richard said. "Why don't you join my party? We're all second years. My guys are all independent contractors so don't expect anyone fancy, but we’ve got no baggage either."

"You have a regular party?" Gwen felt slightly envious that Richard already had a crew. She knew he had a few people who regularly sought him out, but a party?

"You know, the Nantong guys from the bridge project, plus a few strays we've picked up since."

"I don't know about that." Gwen pouted. "You've never introduced them formally."

"They're all eager to meet you, ha-ha," Richard chuckled. "Remember when my boss spat the dummy? He's accused me of keeping our 'beauty' of a cousin hidden."

"Can I join then?" Lulan perked up. "They won't dislike a clanner?"

"They wouldn't care. We're mostly doing construction and clearing work, though, so don't expect us to be doing much purging. We're on the defensive nine times out of ten. You can transmute metal, right?"

"I conjure iron, and yes. I can Transmute all kinds of metal, though iron is my forte."

"Perfect." Richard clapped his hands. "You have no idea how helpful that's going to be. It's dirty work, lots of water, sand and mud every day, every inch of the way. Lots of merfolk to fight as well. Think you'll be all right with that?"

Lulan nodded eagerly.

"Great!" Richard reached over with his hand. The two shook on the deal. "The boys will be thrilled."

Kusu watched the exchange. His eyes were increasingly uncertain.

"How many women are in your group?" he asked casually.

"Just one."

"One?"

"Yep, Lulu." Richard broke into rancorous laughter, slapping Kusu's thighs with casual intimacy. Lulan laughed as well. Kusu looked to have drifted into space.

A vision of Lulan in shorts and a spaghetti singlet, covered in construction dust, hammering away at bedrock, flashed in Gwen's mind's eye. There were so many men, their eyes green, glowing, and watching as her iron sword pounded away.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

Then Lulu would wipe away a brow full of sweat. She could see why Kusu suddenly looked violently ill.

The Conjuration practical exam involved a graded demonstration. There were duels galore, but not so for Gwen. One “Shaa!” from her Mongolian Death Worm was enough to dissuade anyone eager to consider contesting the Void sorceress. The Bestiary students had spread the word that should a Familiar be consumed by Caliban, “It's gone forever!”

Additionally, a rumour had circulated that Dai Fung owed Gwen Song a favour, and that was a Warding Glyph no one wanted to step in.

Evocation came and went as Gwen had anticipated. Without access to her Familiars or the convenient IFF of a spirit, she had initially scored in the low eighties. It took a manifestation of Ball Lightning, consecutively creating three self-seeking orbs that unerringly demolished their targets to attain the ninety needed for High Distinction.

Though higher grades were not necessary for her inclusion in the IIUC team, Petra had informed her cousin that team members seldom possessed a weighted average mark below eighty-five.

As Gwen wished to participate in the 2004 October tryouts, a top percentile mark served as insurance.

Tuesday followed with Bestiary, a course Gwen had already passed with flying colours. She went anyway, giving Eunae and others moral support as Luyi ducked, dodged through obstacles, and fought summoned creatures.

Advanced Spellshaping was next.

The sixty percent weighing project for Magister Lee's course was the alteration of a "spell" that the students must present for a glorified show and tell. Gwen hadn't thought much of the project as the assignment involved “an original alteration of an existing spell”. Thus far, her peers had proved woefully unoriginal.

It was fortunate that Gwen had several. Flashbang was almost entirely original, though nine-tenths of it had been Alesia's design. She also had a spell she had named Taser. In hindsight, it was useless against monsters because meleeing a land shark was foolish. It was also meaningless against Mages because casters possessed shields. What it was good for was NoMs.

Gwen cringed. Those days of playful innocence were behind her. To think she had thought NoMs a force to be feared.

Then there was Blast Bolt, another spell Alesia and Henry had designed. Finally, she had the Elemental Shift variety of Faithful Hound and the Blast-Radius variety of Dimension Door.

Now that she thought of it, she hadn't created any new spells for a long time. Was it because of time and resources? Or that it was easier to buy than discover? In truth, her human resources in Sydney had been over the top. She’d had unilateral access to the battle-prodigy Alesia de Botton, her brother-in-craft Gunther Shultz, and the late Master of Oceania, Henry Kilroy. For most of her early career, she had been tutored via a Cog Chamber, with her mana guided and her incantations perfected by Tower-tier teachers.

Some are given silver teaspoons, Gwen reflected with a bittersweet melancholy. In hindsight, she had been fed with a platinum escargot fork.

Michio appeared interested in her Flashbang but snorted at her other spells. "Seventy-five, Distinction," the man noted, flexing his chest unconsciously. "I am frankly disappointed. I expected more."

Well, shit. Gwen gave the Magister her best smile to hide her flustered nerves. Averaged against her previous assignment, she was sitting on eighty-two.

"All right. My next demonstration might take a while, Magister Lee. But please observe."

Gwen drew a low-tier summon circle on the floor with her finger, then began to incant her sole warding spell. "Morden's Faithful Hound!" It took her just over a minute to finish—a personal record.

With a thunderclap, a blazing burst of cobalt electricity erupted from the circle, then disappeared for all but Gwen. While her observers grew confused, Gwen knew that only the owner of the guardian hound could see its presence within the AOE perimeter.

"Incredible! How?" Magister Lee stood from his chair with enough force to send the fold-out chair clattering across the training hall.

"Sir?"

Michio strode across the floor as Gwen frantically tried to dispel the hound. Her lack of expertise, however, provided time enough for the Magister to approach with the specific intent of “testing” her ward.

A blaze of Tyrian-cobalt fulmination erupted, and then an enormous Great Dane leapt from the summoning circle. Michio's mana shield sparkled and sizzled as a pattern of red-orange light erupted, keeping Gwen's tier-four guard dog at bay, scraping and snarling at her intruder.

"Dismiss!" Gwen managed to dispel the hound. It was the first time she’d had to undo her spell, and the effort made her heart race.

Michio's shield glowed for a second longer, then dissolved, leaving a scent of sunkissed bedsheets.

My instructor is a Radiant Mage! Gwen thought immediately of Gunther. No wonder the two men resembled each other—the overbearing presence, the aura of authority and the endearment they engendered effortlessly.

"WONDERFUL!" Michio reached out with his massive hands, catching her shoulders and pinning her at arm's length. "I am very pleased."

"Thank you!" Gwen hollered back, her mind awash with his awesome presence. Gods, why were they both shouting? "Can you let me go, sir? I have no wish to lose a kidney to one of your fans."

Michio released her.

Gwen shot a suspicious glance at the dozen or so students throwing daggers with their eyes. She stepped back in case Michio again became enraptured by The passion of Spellcraft.

The Magister was glowing.

Bloody Radiant Mages! If Gwen had been a teenager, she might have fallen in love with Lee right there and then. The man had far less control over his aura than Gunther, for her brother-in-law never leaked his charismatic colours all over innocent bystanders.

"Who taught you this variation?"

"My instructor," Gwen answered vaguely.

Michio studied Gwen's eyes with an intensity unbefitting an instructor. "Are you willing to offer the variation to the Tower for CCs? You will be amply rewarded if you are in the rightful possession of these spells. You will contribute to the greater good of the Spellcraft community. What say you, Gwen Song?"

Gwen did a double take. Sell the spell? Offer it to the public? Could she do that? The variation belonged to her Master. But of course, her Master was cold and preserved in Sufina's Grot. Not to mention that his estate belonged to Gunther and Alesia more so than herself.

"I will have to consult with the er… other stakeholders," Gwen replied expertly. "I will give you an answer as soon as possible."

"You must!" Michio came closer, his aura making her eyes water. "If you do, you shall receive a perfect grading."

Gwen turned red, looking like she had been facing a furnace. There was that smell of freshly sunned bedsheets again. These Radiant Mages are insufferable.

"I need to go." She pulled herself away. Jesus Christ. She tried to imagine Gunther pulling one of these light shows of personal charisma. People would fall to their knees and kiss his shoes even if he’d stabbed their mothers.

For now, with her booties clacking against the wooden floorboards, she fled the scene.

Wednesday

Gwen drifted through the air, following their instructor's lead. Lesser Flight was the last station for Utility Transmutation. Ahead, Magus Luo, the dean's nephew, led the group of about twenty or so Utility Transmutation students who had mastered enough of their secondary School of Magic through the air.

Gwen followed without effort, though she received no praise from her instructor.

Luo had learned from the dean that Gwen was a natural Transmuter, meaning her genius for her third school was the equivalent of a native speaker masquerading as a foreigner learning the language.

When the flight finished, fourteen students remained. Kanto Luo gave Gwen a ninety-five out of one hundred, marking it down on his data slate before bidding her leave to enjoy her winter holiday. Though it was almost hitting thirty-five degrees Celsius daily in mid-August, the university's extra-curriculum circuit meant students would remain busy in Shanghai well into November until daytime temperatures dropped to sub-zero.

As for Gwen, freedom was at hand.

Economics on Thursday was a cinch. Searching through the three dozen economic models seared into her memory by week-long cram sessions, she re-imagined a watered-down revision of the Keynesian economic model by the late John Maynard Keynes.

In her assignment, she appropriated a few golden rules offered by Keynes as a solution to the Great Depression, mainly that there was a way to stimulate the economy via an incentive to invest, substituting the arcane class for the capitalist class, and the NoMs for the working class. She advocated opening the Shanghai Central Bank to low-interest loans for NoMs seeking to erect small and medium enterprises, with the CCP serving as the gatekeepers of monetary policy.

Her essay furthermore explained that should interest rates for lending be reduced, many investments previously not seen as viable or profitable would manifest. Loans would finance long-term debt purchases such as houses, automobiles, and the spread of magical appliances. In this manner, the stimulation of the NoM economy directly fed into the circulation of currency and assets in the Mage economy, drawing the two together to create an overall apportionment of goods and services across the two previously segregated spheres of economic development.

As for the potential rise of buccaneer enterprises and Fordian moguls, Gwen wasn't worried. She wrote that crystals were naturally resistant to hyperinflation and that the Towers would punish anyone whose greed threatened to undermine the system.

Assuredly, in this world, even if the NoMs were living like Steinbeck's Middle America in a literary cross-over with Orwell's Air Strip One, things could hardly get worse.

Management was another easy write-up. As this world forsook political science in favour of outright violence, Gwen decided to address Ma's question of "Problems of Equality in a Society of Strata" with stolen transcripts from Amartya Sen, a Harvard resident, on Human Development Theory. In the eighties, the professor had posed a formative question regarding the emergence of neoliberalism, citing the problem of distributing limited resources equally. Gwen contributed one of her old essays, proposing the question of "Equality of What?", moving through topics such as welfare, aid, capability and opportunity. Following Sen's theory, she linked these with key humanistic themes of individuality and responsibility, then worked in an entire section on the concept of noblesse oblige, arguing for a more balanced approach to the social strata, emphasising a convergence of liberal and socialist receptions to equality among the classes that linked in with her earlier economic essay.

After the last call for “pens down” was met by the clattering of writing implements, Gwen gathered Kitty, Richard and Mayuree around her, then paraded her compatriots toward the local Korean barbecue, where she shouted them dinner.

"Sure, put it in the registry. I don't mind." Gunther shrugged. "Alesia will likely need some of those CCs. She's been trying to auction up a Fire Spirit for months now."

"Thanks, Gunther."

"Tell you what." Her brother-in-law tapped the cleft in his chin. "Leave it with me. I have Master's notes in a spellbook somewhere. I'll submit it from my end to Pudong under your name. The negotiation with the Towers usually takes a while. You're not ready for that, not as a first-year student."

"I have full confidence in both of you." Gwen smiled, showing her pearly whites. "I'll ask Mayuree, my friend, if they know anyone selling a Fire Spirit. Her family runs the House of M."

"Sounds like someone useful." He nodded approvingly. "Whatever happens, keep your Contingency Ring on."

By Saturday, the semester was officially over.

Gwen went by her babulya's laboratory to receive another check-up, confirming with Jun that he would pick her up on Sunday morning.

"Evocation, 4.61. Conjuration 5.12. Transmutation 2.70. Abjuration 1.85. Divination 1.34. Illusion 1.95. 230 VMI."

Klavdiya looked stricken all over again, holding the scripts to her heart like she was clutching a precious great-grandchild.

"Babulya, you're embarrassing me." Gwen tugged at the script in her grandmother's hand.

"Be careful out there with Jun. Don't overextend yourself. When you return, we'll have a big family dinner."

"I will, Babulya. And thanks, dinner sounds wonderful."

"Percy will be there, I promise." Her grandmother watched her expression intently.

Gwen did her best to smile. Her younger sibling had not called or spoken to her since she had last visited him. It was as though the boy had fallen off the Material Plane. Were it not for a stream of updates from Babulya, she would have thought him a phantom from her previous life.

At least Percy 1.0 called every other week. Gwen sighed inwardly. Hopefully, their forced encounter would bring any misgivings or misunderstandings to light.

Sunday

Gwen laid out all her gear on the bed, from smallest to largest.

Twelve healing potion injectors.

Four Remove Disease injectors.

Four Cure Poison injectors.

One potion of Invisibility.

One potion of Giant's Strength.

One potion of Night Vision.

Most of these were her loot from Nephres.

One portable habitat returned from Kusu.

One thousand HDMs in assorted HDM and LDMs.

Assorted cosmetics, body wash, shampoos and conditioners.

Cantrip cubes—from insect-repelling to laundry to those that produced water and fire.

Assorted intimates.

Shorts.

Pants.

Shirts—twenty assorted.

Ten pairs of socks, from ankle, knee to thigh length.

One skin suit, military issue.

One Enchanted Boots of Flying, as well as an assortment of runners, heels, wedges and sandals.

One Chameleon Cloak, half-body.

And so it went.

Her ring was barely half-full, even with two weeks' worth of Korean instant noodles and Spam. For this, Gwen congratulated herself on the joys of owning a large storage ring.

She was up at six am, unable to sleep for the excitement. She was a child again, waiting for the campout at Cockatoo Island with her Blackwattle friends. In the intervening time, she had dressed for style and comfort, knowing that Jun would advise her once they were on their way.

Wanting to impress, she slipped into the laced-up magical boots Alesia had loaned, pairing them with a skort—a kind of tennis wear made for mobility and comfort. Casual tops completed the look, with a duck-billed cap Tao had given her enchanted to soak sweat and keep cool.

Her Message device rang.

"Uncle?"

"I am downstairs."

"Coming!"

Petra met her in the hall. "Going?"

"Yep, take care, Pats. I'll bring back some Dragon meat."

"Take care." Petra embraced her, pressing her cousin against her cheeks. The Enchanter had been paranoid and worried about Gwen's journey to poach Dragons.

Richard had fared her well last night, wishing her good luck and promising that he would likewise return from his extended CC-gathering quest in Nantong in one piece. He further informed her that Kusu and Lulan had both joined his party. The brother could not leave his sister alone after Lulan had met with Richard's crew and instantly become their beloved mascot.

Gwen had likewise promised Tao and Mina at Friday dinner that she would see them at the big family reunion after her return and that they would spend plenty of time together during the winter break.

Of all her friends and family, Mayuree loathed Gwen leaving the most. "I am going to hide in my room and not come out until you return," the Diviner had informed her. "Come back soon. Please!"

"I'll try my best. Maybe perform Augury for me? See how my trip will go?"

Mayuree returned about ten minutes later, her face flush with excitement. "Awesome. Everything is going to be great. My Augur says great success!"

"Wonderful!" Gwen hugged her friend and gave her a peck on the forehead. "All right, I'll be back in one piece, I promise. Wish me luck!"

Outside Gouding B1's lobby, Gwen met her uncle parked beside his Wrangler-styled Jeep, back against the door, one foot over the other. Jun wore his military casuals. He had an enormous wristwatch on his right wrist, which Gwen assumed to be a Magical Device, and an assortment of rings on either hand.

Her uncle must have recently cut his hair, for his military crop was shaved close to his scalp, giving him a more masculine look than usual. Perhaps out of habit, Jun had kept his beard, which formed a dark halo around his lips, culminating in a villainous goatee.

When he saw her, his eyes lit up. "Looking lovely there." He grinned. "Your father would be happy to see you doing so well."

Gwen had been skipping happily toward Jun when she paused mid-stride. Had she been holding a handbag she would have dropped it like a weight. "My… father?"

Jun laughed, opening the car door. "Jump in." He slid into the driver's seat effortlessly, then slipped on a pair of cool aviators. "Dragons await, but we'll see how Hai's doing first. I bet he misses you like nothing else. I know I would."

From the penthouse, Mayuree watched Jun's Jeep enter the main boulevard. she followed Gwen with her eyes until she disappeared in a forest of sedans, trucks and rickshaws.

She held her inscribed augury implements in her hands—two lengths of Dragon teeth from her homeland. When she had attempted to roll the bones, her decahedron Theravāda Mandala had steadfastly refused any foretelling of the future, expelling the bones. When she’d changed to a less potent octogramic Mandala, the mulberry fibre upon which the Divination glyphs were inscribed had begun to smoke.

When her next attempt caught fire, Mayuree knew better than to tempt fate. Such things were beyond her ken; any more prying would invite calamity.

Chapter fifteen

Hai Five

Gwen was familiar with the scenery on the Second and Third Orbital Highway. As the city centre shrunk into the distance, giant billboards empowered with Illusion gave way to humbler ones, just as commercials transformed into state propaganda. Curiously, one could almost estimate the distance from Shanghai proper by the phrasing of the long red banners spanning the six-lane girth of the Fourth Orbital.

Happy Community—CCP and You—Hand in Hand.

Joy in Labour—Prosperity in Harmony.

Hard Work—Happiness—Peace—Socialism.

There was a poetic simplicity in the increasingly stupefying slogans. Gwen reckoned that given the number of times she had been distracted enough to read the damn things, she was already subconsciously subscribed.

"Four hours to Hangzhou," Jun stated cooly. She could see from the ease and pleasure on his face that her uncle loved driving. She loved a long drive. There was freedom in the distance, open skies, the road moving under one's feet, the trees whizzing by, the cattle lowing on the hill.

There were no cows in China. The countryside was entirely utilised for the growing of grain. In front of the duo spread an endless green, yellow and brown vista, which Gwen assumed was a crop rotation.

"Jiangnan is the rice bowl of Shanghai." Her uncle caught her staring glassily at the emerald expanse. "Biggest aquaculture region in the world. Shanghai eats surprisingly little of it. Most of the grain is exported to Frontier cities."

"The Frontier can't hold its own?"

Jun chuckled. "Expecting NoMs to defend their farms against River Merfolk, Jueyuan and Goblinoids, do you? Take up pitchforks and carry large sticks? Even armed and trained NoM militias have to be supported by Mages."

Her uncle had a point, but still, Gwen gazed toward the fields sullenly. Was the Frontier useful only as cannon fodder and resource collection? There were fifty million souls spread across the outer reaches of Shanghai!

They travelled without speaking for a short while, the stuttering breeze prolonging the contemplative silence.

Despite the cooling glyphs blowing cold air, Jun's topless Jeep meant the dark interior leather heated considerably. Gwen's Boots of Flying became increasingly stifling until she felt her skin slipping against the suede lining. Finally, she unlaced and let her skin breathe.

"Those are meant for flying, not fashion. Just take ’em off if you have to." Her uncle's expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses.

Gwen pushed the seat back and wiggled free of her boots. Instantly, she felt cooler.

"Sunblock." Her uncle tossed over a tube. "We're outside the city. There's no mana miasma; you'll get burned."

Gwen gingerly applied the ointment with her fingers while Jun continued to speak. With her Druidic Essence, it was unlikely. As an Aussie, however, she knew the sun's torturous abuse all too well.

"We're going to see some very interesting things on our trip," Jun continued. "Here's our projected itinerary. We're going to see your father in Hangzhou first. He's working with the local militia, helping clear the land for more aquaculture. Then, we're going to detour toward the Anhui Frontier. We'll meet the garrison stationed there, then leave for the Huangshan region controlled by the Yinglong on foot.

"Once we're away, we will be cut off from the cities—no Message spells, not even with long-range devices. Don't worry; your Contingency Ring should still function without fail. It's keyed to the Tower's beacons via a whole other system."

"You know about my ring?" Gwen glanced toward the nondescript iron band on her finger.

"Of course. You think the Pudong Tower will let you out just like that?" Jun chuckled. "If Mother, Grandfather and I had not vouched for you on the PLA front as well, the authorities would have never agreed with Pudong to let you out of the city."

"Grandfather?" Gwen paused in her application of sunscreen and looked toward Jun.

"Yes. Your grandfather. I know you guys are not fond of each other. But Dad is not an entirely disagreeable man," Jun explained. "He's a conservative. Being risk-averse comes with the job and the title. Subtle and steady are the watchwords of the MSS. You are anything but subtle."

"He's also suspicious and paranoid," Gwen added reflexively.

"Well, I can't argue with that." Jun shrugged his shoulders. "There's a reason why the ministry and my branch, Internal Security, tend to be iron-handed. Maybe one day you'll see. People are not nice in general, Gwen."

"I'll see?"

"Sure, it'll be a lesson. The word from Professor Ma is that you're hoping for a demesne of your own?"

"I am?" Gwen ran her palm down to her ankles, then up again, lathering the cream. She was reminded of the academic essay she had written for Ma. On paper, she appeared to have big ideas.

"I suppose—WHOA, what is that?"

Gwen became distracted by an enormous buffalo, or at least what she thought was a water buffalo. It was well over three meters tall by her reckoning, almost six meters from head to tail. A boy was steering it through a length of rope tied to a nose ring.

Jun ignored her outburst. "You ever read Mozi's Analects of Fa?" he asked after the buffalo had disappeared in the distance.

Gwen had heard of the name, though she couldn't say if she knew or understood the Mohist school of philosophy. Asian Studies was an elective, after all, one that was worth only three out of six credit potential points.

"He's the pioneer of Chinese legalism, isn't he?"

"I guess these days we would call him a Magi, but yes, he was the Sage King of Xia's advisor, a Mage-Scholar. He spent his entire life fighting the rise of Confucian philosophy, but his works were burned when the Qin dynasty collapsed. I guess we're lucky that some of his compositions survived.

“Rather than obedience, he believed that human society should emphasise self-restraint, self-reflection and authenticity. He advocated 'Ai'—universal love, as early as 420 BC, long before the west came up with any concept on democracy or human rights."

"What happened to him?"

"The Confucian Sage-Kings had him tied to a brass pole, then stacked it with coals."

"All right." Gwen felt her skin writhe.

"Do you want to help the NoMs, Gwen? Improve their lot?"

"I do," she replied without much thought. "At least I can do better than people like Choi."

Jun glanced at her, then snorted. A derisive chuckle escaped his lips.

"I am serious!" Gwen shot back cattily, challenging her uncle.

"Back to what we were talking about before." Jun kept his eyes on the road. "Here's a question for our future Secretariat Song. Mozi argued that the natural state of man is one of ‘Lī’, rationality or propriety. His student, Hanfei, famously appropriated his master's teachings to mean that all men were beings of Lì, meaning profit or self-gain. What do you believe, Gwen?"

Gwen thought of Niccolò Machiavelli, wondering if this world had a Magister from the fifteenth century who’d tried to suck up to Lorenzo Medici. Machiavelli had written that goodness in man never existed, that in politics, as in life, it was every man for himself. Powerful men desired to be loved alone, without loving back.

"I suppose it's easier to say people are greedy," she replied. "There's altruism, right?"

"Of course," Jun replied. "Though altruism is a luxury for those with power and excess. I think the demi-humans are much more honest than us in this regard."

"Demi-humans, Uncle?"

"You'll see," Jun again responded mysteriously. "You'll come away from this trip with more than just a Lightning Spirit, I hope."

"In that case, I'll keep my eyes peeled." Gwen wondered what her uncle had in store. She was confident that Jun wouldn't drop her into a pit of snakes to teach her that not all snakes were poisonous, unlike Gunther.

As the distance wore on, Gwen's thoughts turned to that of Hai, her father. What is he doing now? Is he safe? The last time she'd spoken to Morye—AKA—Hai, he had appeared almost ragged with tiredness. What could the man be doing now?

The aquaculture landscape eventually ended after what seemed like hours, with the sighting of mountainous buffalos becoming more frequent as the road tapered. From the twelve-lane two-way freeway, the road narrowed into a four-lane rural strip.

When they reached their final checkpoint, a troop of PLA guards examined Jun's papers, regarding Gwen with interest.

Soon after, their destination loomed.

Hangzhou, a Frontier city of the Jiangnan geo-block, was a satellite region attached to Shanghai.

Together with Anhui, Jiangxi and Zhejiang, the three Frontier regions formed the Green Zone immediately south of the Yangtze River, creating a fertile delta known widely as the rice bowl of China. The region had been occupied by humans since antiquity, having remained in human possession for over four millennia. During the Han Dynasty, it had famously formed the nation of Wu during the Three Kingdoms. In AD 1204, during the Mongolian invasion, it had been the last part of China to fall to the demi-human incursion from the Northern Steppes. Later, the Ming Dynasty had had Nanjing as its temporary capital. Three centuries later, the Qing dynasty sacked the region when it came into power.

Despite its historical turmoil, the temperate climate, the scarcity of demi-humans, the lack of predatory magical monsters and the wealth of ley-lines made the region quintessential to Shanghai's continued prosperity.

After the Cultural Revolution, the region had expanded. When the bureaucrat Deng Xiaoping, the paramount leader of the CCP after the death of its founder Magi, Mao, had opened the country to the international Tower system, the regions had blossomed.

At the southwestern extremity of Jiangnan was the Anhui Frontier. Anhui, including the “Yellow Mountain” of Huangshan, was the border of China's southern Black Zone. Arguably, the apathy of the mountain's Yinglong made it closer to a Purple Zone—an area with intelligent creatures who saw humans as a food source.

Before one reached Anhui, three human cities made up Shanghai's Western Frontier. Wuxi to the northwest, Suzhou to the west, and Hangzhou to the southwest.

Wuxi, known for its beautiful Taihu north, sat beside an Orange Zone—a zone suitable for human occupation but prone to the formation and habitation of intelligent magical creatures and demi-humans who saw humanity as competitors but not a food source.

South of Wuxi was Suzhou and then Hangzhou. Most famously, it was Hangzhou and Suzhou that gave birth to the aphorism, "Where there is heaven above, there is Su-Hang below."

Next door, Hangzhou was an ancient and cultured city famous for producing poets and ancient Kenshi. To Gwen's surprise, her uncle began to hum a short poem as they passed by a picturesque estuary upon which a pagoda temple was attached.

"The river flows beneath a stone bridge—

One listens to the pattering rain,

Dreaming of soft willows."

Her Ioun Stone took its best shot at translating her uncle's romanticism.

According to Jun, verbosity was the common disease of all those who came to the land of silk and willows. The northern emperors had often said that the Jiangnan was a womb whose tepid weather, flowing streams and pale women milled away the ambition of northern kings.

From their vantage point, the city of Hangzhou stood tall and gleaming in the distance, mirage-like in the haze of the Jiangnan summer. A few minutes later, their Jeep pulled into what Gwen could only describe as an idyllic landscape painting produced in the late Song dynasty.

Compared to the ancient and venerable architecture of the siheyuan, the concrete parking bay outside the riverside garden home was jarring to the extreme.

"We're here." Jun popped the locks and invited Gwen to disembark.

"We're where?" Gwen put on a pair of runners, stretching her languished body.

"Your father's temporary abode, so I am told." Jun's expression was one of surprise and delight as well. His eyes scanned the whitewashed walls of the siheyuan, marvelling at the ancient lichen-covered terracotta. The door was deeply set into the covered porch, the eaves opulently inscribed with weather-beaten lacquer. "Mao, this place is as incredible as I recall."

"Have you been here before?"

"I have. Once, a long time ago. We were both fresh out of military school. The house belonged to the local magistrate back then. Oh, he's probably the district official now.”

Jun approached the door, lifted the brass knocker, and tapped it several times. Gwen, meanwhile, inspected the Chinese watercress and lotuses growing in the moat surrounding the impressive facade of the homestead. There was always something wonderful about the lotus flower that soothed the viewer's mind with its gentle arrangement of pastel carmine.

The door opened a sliver. "Young Master Song," an elderly Chinese man greeted them. "Please, the side door. We are expecting you."

The servant's entrance? Gwen had at first believed themselves victims of a conspiracy. However, when they reached the side, she could see that it was a modern door with a mechanical lock. From its well-worn step, she deduced that this was more likely the usual entrance used by the venerable home's residents.

Inside was a small rock garden that led to a gallery, where the duo was politely asked to switch to inside shoes. The old butler patiently waited on them, neither introducing himself nor greeting them formally.

"This way."

Inside, the quadrangle garden terrace was exquisite, with an eye-straining volume of detail painted into the alfresco murals of cranes in flight. The compound was likewise enormous; the corridors endlessly extensive, while the galleries and gangways looped through river-stone outcroppings and slow-moving pools of bean-green water spotted with lotuses. When Gwen came to a ledge, she saw a school of florid koi lazily combing the surface for fallen seeds and insects.

When they finally came to a central pavilion circled on all sides with water, she caught sight of two figures lounging on cushioned benches. There was a stained mahogany coffee table by the wayside, upon which a pot brewed gently. An assortment of fruits and flowers had been laid on the low table. Silk shawls filtered the harsh sunlight.

The scenery was exotic beyond measure—a silk-screen painting where life imitated art. All that was missing was the gentle plucking of a guzheng.

"Beautiful," Gwen muttered. "What're we here to see?"

"Hai…" Jun paused beside Gwen. There was a sharp intake of breath. "BROTHER! Great Leader's ghost! What are you doing?"

Gwen caught herself mid-stride. Uncle Jun couldn't use Mao's name in vain without meaningful agitation. Jun swore again before he began moving.

As they came closer, Gwen saw what Jun had seen. "Fuck a duck!" she said under her breath. Following Jun's cue, her mouth felt suddenly full of ash. "Jesus, Dad, you gotta be shitting me."

She wasn't sure if her uncle understood the slang, but the sentiment was conveyed.

Morye, AKA Hai Song, the number one son of the House of Song, lounged in the lulling arms of a woman who may as well have been liquid.

Hai looked far better than when she had seen him at the last family dinner before university began. His complexion, which had been peeling and cracked, had been restored. He was topless but for a robe that hung from his shoulders. When her eyes dared drop lower, she thanked the gods that her father had pants on, though the glimmering silk left nothing to the imagination.

Gwen resisted the urge to stab her eyes with two chopsticks so that she could pull them from her bloody sockets and feed them to the koi.

She shifted her attention to the woman. A young woman.

The most salient part of her was her pale-petal lips set upon her flawlessly white face. Next were her eyes, two long slits tipped with wings that made them seem overlarge and juvenile, a style preferred by women of the region. She was feminine beyond measure, radiating an air of motherliness, her body as soft as a swaying willow.

Her heart-aching face sat atop an elegantly arched neck, below which two narrow collarbones met in harmonious alabaster. Her arms enveloped Hai in a secure embrace, wrapping around his face and neck. Her father's head rested on the snowy globes of her breasts, which were doubly superior to Gwen's endowments. Beneath a Mandarin mermaid dress, a pair of white feet with red nails playfully hung over the gold-trimmed lip of the lavish cushions.

Hai slowly took notice of his brother and his daughter. "Gwen!" He shot up as though someone had jammed a wand up his bung-hole. "Aya…"

The woman lost her balance; her father instantly turned and caught his lover by the waist, helping her to stand. When they both recovered, Hai's face was scored with rouge. Beside him, the woman's white face was petal-pink.

"S-sorry." Her voice was both soft and demure. "Hai said you wouldn't be here until the evening."

The servant who had brought them abruptly turned and left, shooting Hai a disgusted glance.

"Hai, what in the world?" Jun's voice sounded just like their father's. He faced the girl. "Qin, is that you? Xiao-Qin right? Qin Liu?"

"I am," the woman became flustered. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Second-Brother Jun."

"Hi, I am Gwen." Gwen extended a hand. "Gwen Song."

"Hello, I am Qin Liu," the girl reached out uncertainly, then shook Gwen's fingers. Gods! Gwen's fingertips touched Qin's flawless hand. The woman's hands felt boneless and tiny; she was as tender as a ripe peach.

Hai coughed. "Yes, very good." He regarded Gwen distractedly. "This is Gwen, my daughter."

Jun still appeared to be in shock. "Little Qin? Qinnie? How did you find Hai? I thought it was a coincidence when he told me to come here. Hai, shouldn't you be at the base? Why aren't you at the base?"

"Well, Qin's father's the district secretary now, so…" Hai smiled innocently.

"Father is not going to be pleased, Brother," Jun warned him.

"Oh, he'll have his plate full." Hai's laughter had a touch of insanity to it.

"Why?" Jun became immediately suspicious. "What did you do?"

Qin's face looked as though she had become intoxicated. Uncle and niece shifted their gaze from Qin to Hai, then back again. Gwen wondered if the School of Divination had a Meister Murphy who had laid down some laws.

"Can we speak in private?" Hai motioned with his hand toward a farther pavilion.

"I am sorry, Qinnie." To maintain amiability, Jun switched over what Gwen assumed to be a pet name. "Can you give us a minute?"

The girl nodded. She had seemed fascinated by the sandstone floor the whole while.

The two men walked a few corridors away, then began an animated conversation, with Jun striking his temples and gesticulating as Hai shrugged and chuckled. The reaction seemed to set Jun off into a wilder display of despair.

Gwen rigidly turned to her father's new lover. "So er…" She tried to think of something to say. In the past, she had always ignored her father's girlfriends. She didn't mind playing the cold, bitchy daughter; it wasn't as though he kept the same woman for a few months. "How long have you guys been together?"

"About three months." Qin's lips barely moved.

Gwen nodded in what she hoped was a friendly manner. She inspected her father and uncle in the distance, then caught Qin studying her face.

"You're very beautiful," Qin observed, her voice strangely sour. "Your mother must be very beautiful too."

Gwen wondered if there was a correct response. Thinking of her absent mother and her father's feelings, she chose diplomacy. "You're a sight to behold yourself." Then, with a measured tone devoid of criticism, she asked the most pivotal question on her mind. "How old are you? You don't look a day over twenty."

The compliment appeared to have pleased her father's latest squeeze. "I am thirty-two," Qin said proudly.

Gwen breathed out a sigh of tremendous relief. She felt more cathartic than when Choi had finally breathed his last. Thank fuck! she cried internally. Thank the gods that her father wasn't a total cradle raider.

"You're a Healer?" Coming closer, Gwen sensed a familiar aura of gentle vitality, not too dissimilar from Elvia's, though far less intense because Qin was more sensual than adorable.

"Yes, I am a Cleric." Qin nodded, a lock of hair falling over her face. "I was assigned to work with Hai at first, and things happened."

I bet they did. Gwen thought numbly. "So, are the two of you going out?" She decided to do her mother a favour and gather some data. When she'd last heard, Helena had been doing well with her fabricator husband, who had taken up a new position thanks to some new contracts their house had established with the House of M.

"Oh no, we're not going out." Qin shook her head vigorously.

A casual fling?

"YOU WHAT!" Jun's voice could be heard from far away. "YOU IDIOT! You're insane!"

Gwen turned to Qin, who responded by placing a hand on her abdomen matronly. White noise filled Gwen's mind. NO! NO! NO! NO! SHIT-SHIT-SHIT! Number three? After Percy, they were going to have a sibling?

"Yes. We're engaged." Qin reached out and pulled Gwen closer so that her hands were held captive. "We're going to have a baby."

There was a ring on the woman's ring finger, a simple metal band. Gwen felt too tired even to swear internally.

"Oh, Gwen!" Qin pulled herself from her, then took up her hands and held them close to her lips to be kissed. Her eyes were feverish like those of a woman who'd been praying for salvation all her life and then, one day, God answered.

"Yes?" Gwen gave her the most capable smile she could muster, hoping it didn't look too forceful.

"Gwen!" Qin said seriously, her eyes glassy and happy. "You may call me Mother, but I would prefer Sister…"

Gwen embraced the woman just so that she could avoid her gaze. Her fucking eyes! The woman was an intensity and a half! Why, oh, why did her father have to stick his dick in crazy? Was it for the thrill? Why was his pull-out game so weak? Why was someone with an astronomical Salt Affinity so goddamned fertile? How was that fair to Uncle Jun?

She turned her head to regard her father with wilting despair. Beside Hai, Jun was oscillating with impotent anger from head to toe. Her father winked at Gwen happily.

"I told you, Gwen's fine. Just look at her," Hai boasted to his brother. "You think I'd fall for some hellcat like Helena again? Ha! Not on your life, brother."

I should set Caliban on him, Gwen thought seriously. Wen would love it if she returned with new data. Her father was tier VI Transmutation. Maybe she could hit tier III in one fell swoop.

Chapter sixteen

Goats and Monkeys!

Qin “Qinnie” Liu settled her step-daughter and brother-in-law into the guests' suite while she and Hai returned to the bedroom to get changed. As much as their Emperor Moth silk robes suited the decor, parading around in bedroom garbs was hardly going to make an impression on their eldest daughter.

There is a son as well, isn’t there? Qin wasn't fussed. According to Hai, the mother was a Frontier woman, some local labourer's daughter. When Hai had been banished to the Frontier, he must have been heartbroken and weak-willed. That was why a man as great as he had picked a low-hanging fruit.

Her father, the district secretary, would soon be home for dinner. Her old man had been in a good mood as soon as he’d heard that the Ash Bringer himself was going to visit their humble, millennia-old abode, though he was less than thrilled to hear that Qin's groom had invited his daughter.

"I'll be next door." Hai kissed her expertly, sliding a hand onto her waist as their lips met for the third time. Her lover's kiss felt like hot brands, causing Qin's heart to quicken. Her body turned liquid. She guessed they were both feeling it.

"Not here," Qin chided the man of her dreams. "The servants will talk."

"Let them talk." Hai laughed. She loved that about Hai; he was so confident all the time.

For now, the two of them had to live in different rooms. Qin's father would not have the two of them under one roof until they were married. She was sure that her father knew that Hai had taken her weeks ago when they’d been together on an outing to the waters of Taihu, then again and again when he had been away. The servants gossiped like anything. When Hai became the young master, he had to exert some discipline.

Happily, her father had pretended not to know. His "mienzi", his face, wouldn't be able to take it.

Parting from Hai, she opened the door to her room.

One of the problems of living in a venerable siheyuan was that any modern decor ruined the atmosphere. The open roof was chalked matt-black, offset by the wine-red lacquer of the beams. The windows were glass, though a subtle Illusion kept the facade faithful to its original paper-screen aesthetic. Qin's bedroom was spartan by twenty-first-century standards, consisting of several chests and cupboards, a double bed, and an area where she could sit and sip tea. Beside the window, she could engage in reading or meditation while listening to the sound of flowing water.

There was another room a short way to the side, an old storage section; it was there that Qin now went. The alcove wasn't a secret, though Hai hadn't seen it yet. She wanted to keep it a surprise for their wedding night.

Several semi-permanent Dancing Lights lit the small shrine she had built within its alcove. A leather-bound book full of newspaper clippings from two decades ago was atop a table with several blocks of pinkish salt.

In the middle of the room was a life-sized wall-scroll silk painting. It depicted a young man, handsome and chiselled, encased in a pinkish layer of crystalline armour that resembled articulated plate mail. The young man within the iMage was smiling gently, his eyes dark and gleaming, full of confidence and intelligence.

It was here that Qin felt at peace. Here, she could calm her mind and dispel the dread of finally meeting Hai's daughter. She had no idea if Hai's eldest child was willing to see her as a mother. She knew that Gwen was particularly striking and uniquely talented.

A threat.

Her hand fell to her abdomen. She was with Hai's child.

As the Head Physician of the Anhui regional hospital, she knew every inch of her body, inside and out. Life was engendered within, a life that belonged to her and the man she loved.

After all these years of waiting, hoping, despair and then desire, she would give birth to a child. Her father would have an heir. The Clan of Liu, the first of those who called Jiangnan their home, would have an heir!

Gwen and Jun sat stunned in the guest room, sipping tea and staring blankly over the vista of the artificial lake. A pair of swallows alighted on the eaves; they regarded the two humans sullenly basking below it, then flew away amidst a bell beat of wings.

"I still can't believe it," Gwen said at last. "Why are we here again?"

"Your father said he wanted to surprise you," Jun replied miserably. "Maybe we should have gone straight to Huangshan."

"Bloody oath, we should have." Gwen sighed.

Jun patted his jacket for a cigarette, tried his storage ring, then looked forlorn.

"Who the hell is this woman?" Gwen asked.

"Qin is…" Jun's expression looked like he was trying to grasp some distant memory, "a childhood associate. We were both in our late teens when our father spent a summer working with hers. We would have met no more than once or twice. I wonder why she's so obsessed with Hai. A childish infatuation? I seem to recall Qin's mother died when she was very young."

A psychological complex? Hai just happened to scratch an itch? Gwen was herself no stranger to mental complexes. The human psyche remained infinitely obscure and mysterious. Humanity could collide atoms at sub-light speeds to create new matter, but they struggled to fathom the depth of human insecurities.

The two sighed together, the tranquil view of heavenly Jiangnan mocking their unsettled hearts.

"Sorry," Gwen said.

"We're both sorry."

"I feel sorry for Babulya."

"Have you ever seen Mother angry, Gwen?" Jun asked. "You will."

The two sipped the high-grade Tisane provided by their new in-laws. A jade dragonfly alighted on a lotus. Golden cicadas heralded the stifling summer.

The dinner banquet was fit for twelve, though the table only sat five: Gwen, Jun, Hai, Qin and her father, plus dozens of attendants.

The District Secretary of Hangzhou was no paper tiger like Secretariat Choi. He was the bona fide number one chair in the region, a "central office" man directly overseeing the region's administration. As Hangzhou was one of the most central rice bowl regions of the entire Chinese food economy, his position as acting official between the CCP governing branch and the local Frontier's provincial government made him supremely influential on both ends.

"How fares Guo? I heard your father had dislodged a few notable names from the ranks in recent weeks," Sumei Liu, Gwen's new grandfather-in-law, was putting on a friendly face for his guests.

There was no doubt what they were here to discuss. The man sounded out Jun, who was Guo's most regarded progeny. What Sumei and her uncle were doing was an etiquette Gwen internally entitled the waltz of words, a ritualistic social decorum the bigwigs in the CCP had mastered. It was the ability to say and demand something without ever saying anything.

"He's very pleased with the MSS's recent progress," Jun replied carefully. "You've heard about the incident regarding the late Secretariat Choi, yes?"

"Oh yes, public disbarment." Patriarch Liu raised an eyebrow. "Messy business, that one. Who'd have thought the man was so depraved? We went to the same academy, you know. He was always the quiet one. You know what they say. Watch out for the quiet ones. The dog that bites doesn't bark."

"It's over. Thanks to that," Jun remarked offhandedly. "Father's schedule's open. I kept telling him to take a break. The family could revisit Jiangnan. It'll do him and Mother good. You know how she loves the region."

"It's a beautiful season, a bit hot. Still, the flowers are out; plenty of fresh produce to sample. Does your family have a place to stay? I have an abundance of room here."

"Hangzhou's fine. He'll be eager to see an old friend, I am sure. Mother misses Hai as well."

Gwen listened to the conversation, mesmerised by the subtlety of it all.

"So, you're Hai's daughter."

Unexpectedly, the conversation had shifted to her. She had no idea what had passed between the two men, but it felt as though an agreement had been engendered.

"Uncle." Gwen inclined her head respectfully.

"You're a lucky man, Hai. I am sure your daughter will marry well," Sumei said offhandedly. From her father’s confusion, she was sure Hai had been playing footsies under the table with Qin and was caught off-guard. Sumei's expression darkened.

Taking the razor-filled compliment, Gwen shot her father a glance of irritation. The least he could do was stomach a few razors for her.

"How old are you, Gwen?"

"Seventeen, sir."

"Almost a fully grown woman! Have you any requests for your hand?"

"No, sir." Gwen felt ire colouring her cheeks. What kind of small talk is this? Was the man hoping that she could be fucked off somewhere so that they wouldn't have to take care of an unmarried daughter? She wondered if insulting the Sumei would dent her father's new marriage prospects, but the thought of the innocent child in Qin's belly doused her fury. Her cheeks flushed. She did not like this conversation.

"We're on our way to training, Secretary Liu," Jun interjected. "Gwen is a very talented sorceress. The Tower expects good things from her in the future."

Gwen noted that Jun had failed to mention which Tower.

"Oh, are you a Salt Mage as well, Gwen?" Sumei seemed surprised that a Gweilo girl had inherited the Song family trait. "Your grandfather must be very proud."

"I am…" Gwen glanced at her uncle. Jun dipped his head. "I am a Void Mage, sir."

Sumei Liu looked toward Jun. The Ash Bringer nodded.

"And Lightning."

Sumei's superior expression grew as rigid as Taihu's famous caesar stones. Beside Hai, Qin's countenance likewise blanched. Had her father said nothing? It was very "Hai" to omit important information just for shits and giggles.

"A once-in-a-century talent." Sumei's tone grew unhappy. "Hai, explain yourself."

Hai looked as though raked over by hot coals. "Gwen is a special girl," he replied carefully. "Her abilities are… a product of chance."

"Absurd!" The patriarch was now very unhappy.

"He's telling the truth." Jun came to his brother's rescue despite his clear annoyance and misgivings toward Hai. "Helena comes from an Enchanter family, but she's a Fire Evoker. She's remarried now too. Who knows? She might even have more children."

That much was true. Gwen had not contacted her mother since the gift of the Vitae Fruit. Assuming it made her a decade younger, it wasn't impossible that Gwen might be looking at a pair of half-siblings by next year.

Qin collapsed against Hai's arms. Gwen felt a sudden sympathy for her mother, who was now a mere conversation piece.

"Fine." Sumei sipped his rice wine. He had ordered a three-decade-old bottle of Maotai opened for the occasion. Gwen tried a sip; the spirit almost gave her a coughing fit. When she managed to swallow the crystal-clear liquid, it was the smoothest thimble of fire she had ever consumed.

"So, Qin, how did you and Father meet?"

"It's Qīn," Qīn's father corrected her pronunciation. "Like the guzheng harp. Though I guess you would have to call her mother in the future."

Gwen made sure her facial muscles channelling Guo's impassivity.

"Our fathers are acquainted with one another." Jun was the one who chimed in, thawing the glacial atmosphere. "We trained near Fuyang when it was still an Orange Zone. It was 1983, I think. We were both stationed at the Huangshan outpost."

"Yes, I remember it fondly." Sumei's face grew softer with the remembrance. "The two of you were busy making a name for yourself. The Song boys, rising stars of the PLA."

"I was just a little girl then." Qīn's milky complexion grew warmer, her eyes dark and liquid. "We were on a boating trip through Taihu. Some Riven Merfolk had slipped through the barrier shields. Our boat was attacked. At first, we were okay; our teacher did her best to fend them off. Then one of the Merfolk scuttled our ferry."

It was with great fortune then that Hai, Jun and a troop of fresh cadets had been on border patrol. The girl's instructor had sent out an SOS, and they had been the first to respond.

"Hai was incredible. He came down from the heavens just like that and turned the water's surface into sheets of solid pink salt. Hai looked so amazing in his crystal armour, just like a Tian-Jiang. We all thought a land deity had answered our calls for help!"

Qīn's impassioned articulation made Gwen think of evangelicals selling their saviour. She'd seen the same enthusiasm before, especially during product seminars for new iPhones.

Jun shifted toward Gwen, then leaned in until his lips were an inch from her lobes. "While the others and I were busy fighting the Merfolk, Hai went to save them of his own volition. Our protocol states that saving civilians is secondary to the extermination of intruders. Honestly, I think the girls would have been fine. Their teacher was a Water Mage. That would have been a spectacle if someone drowned under her watch."

"Was the teacher…"

"Yeah, she was a real beauty."

"Did Father…"

"For sure. Brother was bow-legged when he returned after curfew. Received a week's confinement for his dereliction."

Gwen's head felt groggy as she returned to Qīn's "astounding” tale. Fucking Morye Song, she grumbled internally. Goats and Monkeys!

"I couldn't forget him, the man who saved my life," Qīn continued. Qīn's father's eyes glazed over. He must have heard the story a thousand times. "I was heartbroken when I heard Hai had passed away on the Front, so I vowed never to marry. In my heart, I already belonged to Hai Song."

Gwen felt a pricking of her thumbs. Something wicked this way comes.

"So imagine my delight and surprise when I went to work at the Hangzhou Military Hospital. Guess who I saw?"

"My father?" Gwen answered the rhetorical question politely, feigning interest.

"Yes. HAI. Oh, Mao! I was so happy I burst into tears right there in the hospital. To think he was alive. Thank the ancestors! They must be looking down on us from the heavenly court."

"Or turning in their graves," Sumei muttered unpleasantly. "At this rate, we'll be accused of Necromancy."

Qīn appeared not to notice her father's foul mood. She continued the tale with her bird-song voice, trilling against the taut tension in the room. By her account, Gwen's father hadn’t known who she was at first but wasn't opposed to giving her a chance. Qīn had thus gotten to enact her childhood dreams from ground zero.

"That was when he professed his love. It was very romantic, so western! We were in the middle of the lake where he saved me. How fortunate was that? It was fate, I tell you. I broke down and wept like a child." True to her words, Qīn broke down and began to weep like a child.

Gwen and Jun sat like dumb statues, joined by Qīn's father. Hai laughed happily, hugging Qīn to his chest. Sumei looked as though someone had stabbed him in the liver then spat in his face.

"Try the fish," Qīn's father said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "It's a speciality here. The Vinegar Sturgeon of the West Lake has the most tender flesh of any fish in China."

The ingredients in their banquet were indeed something else. Au naturale and entirely different from the semi-processed food in the city, each bite seemed to contain some form of elemental mana or subtle vitality within the flesh.

Dinner concluded with Swallow's Nest in Wildland Osmanthus and Heart of Pear, a dessert and a palate cleanser.

Sumei insisted that Gwen and Jun should sleep over in the guest rooms, but the pair had already booked a hotel room in Hangzhou. At any rate, they were both in silent agreement that the sight of Hai and Qīn hot in the heat of their steamy passion was too much for their mental health.

"All right, but you're welcome to stay anytime." Sumei materialised a glyphed plaque, then handed it to Jun. "My authorisation for entering the Purple Zone. Ensure it is confirmed by the commander there when you reach Anhui."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the trouble."

"It's no trouble." Sumei regarded Jun thoughtfully. "We will be troubling you, I think. When do you expect to be back?"

"A month at most, sir."

"I see." Sumei sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Qīn needs to be shown respect before… things begin to show."

Qīn hid her face against Hai's chest.

"I will speak to Mother tonight. I expect you will get a call from Father tomorrow."

"Good." Secretary Liu's bearing alternated between that of a father and a district official of the highest order. "Our houses joined will become greater than either. There will be great things for this child. Your father has no heir nominated, yes? Our union will be a good thing for all of us. For both of our houses."

Gwen kept her mouth shut. Jun's face was unreadable as the two men shook.

Gwen shifted her eyes with great deliberation toward Hai, who saw nothing. He was busy sweet-talking his new bride, making her giggle and laugh, the picture of a perfect fiancé.

Hangzhou CBD was an hour away from Patriarch Liu's lakeside estate.

The city's centre had re-developed much of the surrounding landscape, keeping many of its old dynastic facades. Rather than neat rows of streetlights, the city's suburban sprawl floated on dark water, lit by Dancing Lanterns, forming a mirage-like reverie of floating reflections.

Hangzhou's reputation as the city of lakes and fishes was a misnomer; the CBD was instead built on a network of estuaries. It was famous for its canals, not large masses of water. Conversely, the inland penetration of seasonal streams resulted in many pseudo “lakes” of various sizes, giving the city the illusion of being situated on the water.

At ten to ten, uncle and niece arrived at a hotel that was neither lavish nor modest. It was one of the taller establishments in the city, offering a view of the city's north, beyond which one could see a shimmering sheet of light illuminating a massive body of water in the far distance.

"Aqua-farming operation." Jun pointed toward Taihu's surface. "Big quasi-magical fishery."

"What's the plan from here on out?" Gwen spread her toes, allowing the cold air to infuse her moisture-drenched skin. She had sweated non-stop the entire drive from the Liu estate.

Jun looked already exhausted. "Originally, I was going to request that Hai join us in the city. We can try out local delicacies, tour the lake for a day, and then visit the administration office. We were then going to see Secretary Liu." Jun pulled up a cantilever chair and fell into it heavily. "Now, I propose we go straight into the mountains."

"Sounds good to me," Gwen said. "Regarding Dad?"

"I'll call Mother now. Why don't you get ready for bed? We'll leave at 0600. I'll inform the base we're on the way."

"Thanks, Uncle."

"Don't mention it."

Gwen felt unbound sympathy for her uncle as he hunched over and Messaged Gwen's grandmother.

"Wei? Mother? Yeah, it's me, Jun. Can you hear? Okay, yeah… look, er… I met Hai today. We need to talk."

Gwen entered the bathroom, turned the lock, and then laid out her pyjamas and intimates. She took a cold shower, the only activity that could provide solace against the clinging humidity, then dried her hair, tying it into a loose ponytail for sleeping.

When she emerged in a silk bathrobe and a white face mask, Jun almost spat out the tea he'd made. "Not going to say I've never seen a facial mask before," Jun replied depreciatively. "But that scared the ghost out of me! Did you know the Banshees we get up north sometimes wear the faces of their victims just like that?"

Was her uncle unused to the feminine company? Surely a hero like him would go through multitudes of girlfriends? Then again, her uncle was infertile. If one was infertile, did that impact one's libido? If the Ash Element's Negative Drain took away the victim's desires and passions, as it had done to Lulu's Huashan uncle, how did it impact Jun, its wielder?

Jun did not appear flustered by her liberties beyond her face mask. "I've spoken to Mother. She will sort it out with Father." He rested his mug against the glass worktable. "You finished?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Great. Lights out at 00:00. Don't wait for me."

Gwen slipped into the rough sheets, glad she'd brought her silk robe. She listened distractedly to the sound of the shower next door, thinking of what creatures they would soon encounter. When the opportunity arose, she had asked her Bestiary instructor, Hufei Chen, about the variety of Dragon spawn commonly found within its demesne.

"It's easier to go from the top down." Chen had taken her line of questioning as innocent curiosity. After all, Dragons were very rare and very interesting and charismatic creatures, especially to the Chinese. "One needs to follow the food chain. We mentioned before that Dragons, intelligent or otherwise, thrive on two core instincts—eating and fucking. A Dragon goes to a mountain and takes over one of the peaks. The first thing it will do is kill the alpha magical creature there. If it's a buck or a bull, it'll likely kill it. Occasionally, it might fuck it—"

"Wait—" Gwen had stopped the instructor. "Dragons can be gay?"

"What does that matter?" Chen gave her a dirty, disgusted look. "Ignorant child! Dragons are protandrous hermaphrodites. You can't just presume a Dragon's sexuality, Gwen."

"Sorry."

"As I said, sometimes, when Dragons see a creature they think is useful, they might mate with it. The Kunlun Range, for example, is full of pseudodragons because the original alpha there was an enormous Wyvern. There are Draconic thunderbirds too, amongst a dozen other species—the Shenglong ain't fussy.

"So anyway, as I was saying. Start from the top. The biggest thing that used to live in those mountains will be the basic template of whatever Draconic alpha you're likely to run across. Then go down the food chain. Rocs and Wyverns tend to feature a lot, after that, downgrade to terrestrial hunters like bears and wolves. It might not sound like much, but when you consider that the Draconic blood empowers these spawns to live for up to a millennia, all they do from day to day is eat and fuck, fuck and eat. They're a plague."

"I get the picture."

When Jun emerged from the bathroom in shorts and a t-shirt, he gazed at her paternally, then quietly laid himself on the second single. "Night, Gwen."

"Night, Uncle."

Jun's right hand moved to encompass the Kirin Stone. After quietly invoking mystical incantations, the man was fast asleep.

Gwen closed her eyes. Tomorrow was going to be another long day.

Chapter seventeen

Frogger

The hotel offered a decent breakfast the next morning at daybreak, consisting of congee and preserved vegetables, after which uncle and niece were on their way.

In the Jeep, Jun continued the education of his niece. "Our first stop is the Anhui Guard Station, after which we're going dark. I've brought a full set of optic-camo for you on loan and some survival basics. Hai tells me he brought you a set of self-preserving intimates, yes?"

Gwen thought she’d heard wrong at first. Then she remembered her father's questionable gift. Her friends had roasted her over the incident. "Yes."

"Good. I am similarly provisioned. We can't leave behind anything that might attract predators."

"Right." Gwen kept her eyes on the road. She still had it in the original box.

The freeway from Hangzhou was a narrow and tapered stretch of bitumen in a significant state of disrepair. Gwen was beginning to see why her uncle bought his army Jeep, not some cosy sedan. Even with the lifted suspension, the patches of water and erratic vegetation made for a teeth-chattering experience.

"Hangzhou is the last Frontier city of its size this far west from Shanghai," Jun addressed her dismay at the road's growing dilapidation. "This far out, it's not uncommon to see demi-humans and magical creatures. Huangshan would have been perfect for a barrier, though the PLA never got to penetrate that far. The Yinglong keeps to itself, and we have to respect its boundaries by keeping to ours. A Shielding Station would disrupt that unspoken agreement."

"So what happens when magical monsters sneak in?"

"More like saunter in, right through the glaring gap between Nanking and Hangzhou." Jun chuckled. "We have two battalions stationed in Anhui, including three mid-tier Mage Flights on rotation tours. If the Yinglong empties the Three Heavenly Peaks one day and comes roaring… well, you were in Sydney, you get the idea."

"Would it be better or worse?"

"Worse. Hangzhou has no Tower, much less Magus Shultz. That man is a world wonder when it comes to strategic-class artillery," Jun confessed more candidly than Gwen liked to admit. "Assuming the Hangzhou Frontier holds up for twenty-four hours, the PLA or the Pudong Tower could teleport to its aid. The PLA Tower was built for Mythic-class engagements. Its superstructure can provision up to two thousand active Mages up to the rank of Magi. The Dragon is as good as a pile of priceless ingredients."

"You make it sound painless." Gwen regarded her uncle, watching the passing scenery refract from his cool aviators.

"Nothing's that easy, of course. Four million NoMs are living in Hangzhou. Maybe half would survive an attack of that scale. As for moving the superstructure, Hangzhou will semi-permanently entertain the PLA Tower for the next decade."

"Would the city ever recover?"

"Sure. Two or three decades? It will be shorter if we can migrate citizens over from Shanghai. But you know what won't recover? The Yinglong. It'll be gone for good. Forever. Humanity can finally expand the Anhui Frontier. Terraform it into an Orange Zone. The resources alone are going to keep Shanghai going for a decade."

"But that's not going to happen."

"Of course. A pyrrhic defence against a Yinglong is a necessary act of survival. Attacking a Yinglong while it's in its lair? I don't think we have enough Mages in Shanghai to invest in a conflict of that magnitude. Assuming we fight all-out against the Yinglong and its children, total war and all that, I’d say we’ll be down anywhere between a thousand rank-and-file Mages, a hundred or so Maguses, and at least a few Magisters.”

“That’s—"

"Potentially a whole generation wiped out," Jun said. "Sure, we'll be fine for now. Dead Dragon and all. What about the next Calamity? Suddenly, there's a generational gap. Shanghai is missing a hundred Maguses. That means potential Magisters. Maybe a Meister. Then there's the lost potential that at least one-fiftieth of those acolytes would have survived to become something greater. That's why humanity cannot persist in protracted wars. Humanity neither possesses the lifespan nor the personnel. Without the rank-and-file, how do we keep the demi-humans out?"

"Does Hangzhou have a magical creature problem? In Australia, they're a constant menace. Most of the military budget is spent on purging the east coast; that and the Saurian tribes up in Queensland."

"It's done seasonally here. We'll be heading through the lowlands, where it's spawning time. As for types, in South-East China, we get all sorts. Mermen from the ocean, Mountain Merfolk from the Changjiang, cannibalistic little River-gobs that swarm; it’s the diverse geography."

"Are the ones here as strong as our Mermen?"

"Not inland, and especially not individually. Only the South Pacific can throw up Siege and Titan-class threats. The River folk are more like vermin, impressive when they reach a critical mass. Habitually, they're the Dragon-kin's primary food—"

The Jeep struck a patch of caked mud. Gwen had to hold onto the rails to endure the crumbling, half-solid silt.

Her uncle continued unabated, enjoying the rough ride. "The main problem is how long it takes for them to mature. That's why we have to keep purging the local population. It's endless. How long do you suppose it takes to train a Mage to the right tier of magic?"

"Ten years?" Gwen replied carefully. "Well, twenty from birth?"

"More like thirty, if we're talking about mastery of a single School of Magic. Most Mages are capped around tier V, give or take. Thirty years, Gwen, to produce a Mage capable of holding their own. There's another caveat—how many of us are Combat Mages?"

Gwen shook her head, feeling the moisture of the lowland clings to her hair. A stink of decay in the air hinted at swampland and stagnant water.

"Ten to one in tier I cities. A little over five to one on the Frontier."

"Oh?"

"How long do you think it takes to pop out a combat-ready Water Gob?"

"Six?" Gwen recalled good-sized Barramundi took that long to mature.

"Three," Jun remarked. "They're fish. They spawn, meaning broods are usually ten to twenty thousand per, once per annum. At around two years, your average Water Imp is fully functional. For a Riven Water Priest, the rarer variants take longer, just under a decade. They don't have institutional guidance either; Merfolk magic is innate. The eggheads at the academy think it's an evolutionary trait or some form of endemic memory ingrained in the bloodline."

"T-Ten thousand? How are we not swamped with fish-faced mermen?" She could believe it if it were the ocean, for the Pacific was a big place, far deeper and wider than any terrestrial landscape.

"One, we purge annually. Two, the tribes are cannibalistic. Three, they're food—for Dragon-kin and us. Caught between a rock and a hard place." Jun chuckled. "Remember that famous Vinegar Fish? Now you know why it's so tender."

"You mean…"

"Well, as I said, it's spawning season."

Gwen first felt ill, then she felt guilty, followed by remorse. It was man-eat-fish versus Dragon-eat-fish in a "Hey, that's my fish!" world.

The car rocked again, shaking her from her thoughts. They were entering a sort of lowland floodplain. The road itself was inundated by patches of water left by episodic showers.

Just as uncle and niece came to a lull in their conversation, a cacophony of commotion came from beyond the hill. From the sound and the mana signature, it felt like Evocation was being used.

"Is there a fight ahead of us?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah, sounds like they're in the thick of it; at least one Evoker. Not uncommon along this stretch of the road. The Merfolk need food for their young, and humans are growing copious amounts of food."

Jun slowed the Jeep to a halt. The engine plinked beside an algae-covered milestone. "We'll proceed on foot," he commanded with casual confidence. "Your call. Show me what you can do."

"Yessir." Gwen deployed her Familiars. "Caliban! Ariel! Invisible Familiar! Invisible Familiar!"

Watching the Marten and the Void worm fade from sight, her uncle whistled.

"That is an evil spell. Now. Lead the way."

The two made it over the crest, gliding above the ground via their flight spells, bypassing the mud and grime. A battleline of human soldiers pushing against a swarm of amphibian frogmen came into view.

"URRGH'ug! Kreee!"

The most salient spectacle in the chaotic melee below was a frog giant the size of a water buffalo. Conversely, the unfortunate victim of the frogmen's ambush was precisely one buffalo. From the looks of it, the frog things had been trying to get away with their loot of flesh when the human patrol had caught them red-handed.

"A Frogger alpha," Jun remarked. "Big bastard. The smaller ones are Spawllings."

"Really?" Gwen turned to the frogs, pondering how the swarm managed to cross the road, evading the traffic. Three dozen of its spawn accompanied the great brute, tadpole men covered with mucus armour, carrying bladed reeds on poles that reminded her of a half-pike.

To Gwen's astonishment, the human unit fighting the frog folk were NoMs backed by two Mages. One of the casters was an Abjurer, while the other Gwen guessed to be an Evoker-Transmuter.

NoMs, equipped with armaments! Gwen felt taken back. It was the first time she had seen Chinese NoMs fighting magical creatures. The infantry looked to be armed with staves enchanted for elemental damage. With a command, the pole extended and retracted. Whenever the head struck an enemy, the pole weapon sent out a brilliant burst of deadly energy from the business end.

"A Frontier militia, likely from the local agricultural garrison."

"No wands?" In Sydney, the militia all used range weapons.

Jun said nothing. Instead, he folded his arms, waiting for her to act.

Gwen studied the battle below. The Merfolk were retreating, but neither side had casualties. The sticks wielded by the militia were having a hard time penetrating the mucus of the amphibian men, while the van-sized frog giant kept the Merfolk battle line from crumbling by holding off the two Mages. Occasionally, it spat a glob of viscous white glue, disrupting the battleline.

Despite being outnumbered, the militia was doing well. The Abjurer, in particular, was keeping his men safe with timely shields. It was ten against thirty, but thanks to what Gwen assumed were buffs from the Transmuter, the NoMs held their positions.

"Do they even need my help?" Gwen asked.

Jun crossed his arms. His expression was unreadable.

Gwen turned back to the scene. "All right then. Here I go."

"Shield!" Rurong Peng wondered if his sergeant had a plan other than trying to grind the Merfolk's morale, hoping that the frogmen ran out of stamina before they ran out of mana.

The squad was doing well, perhaps better than he had anticipated.

When they had arrived and disembarked, no one had vomited, and no one had complained. The men had formed, made two rows, and awaited their buffs.

They’d found the frog folk raiding party not far from the location described by their first intelligence report. A local farmer had been accosted while taking his buffalo out to forage. He’d fled, abandoning his charge to inform the garrison of the raiding party.

When it was clear to the frogmen that they could not escape from their quarry, they’d attacked.

Li's squad had fallen into formation, with Rurong at its centre and the sergeant himself hovering behind them, forming a V-wedge.

With the melee joined, Rurong's work began in earnest. The attacks from the smaller of the Merfolk were not difficult to deflect. It was the big bastard duelling Sergeant Li that took out his mana by increments, pulverising his shields one by one.

His sergeant was doing well, gouging chunks of its demi-human flesh with fire. As for the NoMs, they performed better than last; prior, half had fled during their first engagement against a Mud Salamander.

Sergeant Li flitted backwards, drifting through the air as another globular of glue flew overhead. Rurong altered the projectile's path with a Deflection Shield. Still, the viscous liquid adhered to the earthen crust, remaining in mid-air until Rurong could be sure no unfortunate NoM was going to get caught below. The extra second was vexatious, a waste of mana.

"Careful," his sergeant advised via Message. Rurong hailed back an affirmative.

"Scorching Ray!" Sergeant Li let loose his favourite spell, blasting three beams of fire into the frog spawn's hide, turning a chunk of its flesh into char as the surrounding mucus boiled, sending up a great stink smelling of rotten reeds and fish.

Before the sergeant could load up another, the giant frogman reared up on its hindquarters, rising to almost four meters in height.

"Cao!" Rurong swore. He had seen the ability before in similar creatures but hadn't accounted for the frog to possess enough of its bile still to execute the AOE.

'GLUUUARRRRGH!' A torrent of sticky liquid poured forth from the frog's lips in a viscus, semi-circle arc.

"Shield! Earthen Wall!" Rurong was proud of his simultaneous casting. It was a staple ability of the Abjuration school. The conjured wall caught half of the viscous vomit while his shield prevented the NoM closest to the strike zone from becoming enmeshed.

The same could not be said of Three NoMs further down the battle line.

"Curse your ancestors!" Rurong growled. "Sarge!"

"Hold it steady!" Sergeant Li shouted back. "Cover me! I'll try to cut them loose."

Not even Enhanced Strength was enough to allow the NoMs to escape the suddenly solidifying gloop. Furthermore, a mild acid within the creature's phlegm immediately began its terrible work.

"Cao, it burns!"

"Don't come. I think it's poisonous!"

"Save me, Sarge! Save me! ARRRRRGH!"

Rurong felt a cluster of annoyance clench in his chest. The NoMs were drilled not to panic. Mass panic would impact morale and could lead to a rout. Without the platoon holding down the little fuckers, how could he and Li focus on fighting the big bastard?

Sensing the Abjurer's preoccupation, the amphibian giant launched an attack, unrolling a corkscrew, arm-thick length of pink flesh from its mouth to snare one of the hapless NoMs.

"No! Please help me! I don't want to die!" It was L4, the coward of the bunch, always the first to panic.

Rurong swore under his breath; he felt no compulsion to risk his sergeant's safety to preserve the useless meat bag. Even if L4 returned safely, the er-bi would be whipped within an inch of his life for failing to maintain discipline and endangering the platoon. The commander had reiterated that it was best if useless conscripts were weeded out naturally. He had called it social Darwinism, a term coined by an old British Magi who had studied magical beasts, theorising that natural selection made Wildland Creatures superior combatants.

"Caliban! Onslaught! Ariel! Ball Lightning!" A shrill female voice echoed across the clearing.

Rurong whipped his head toward the voice's source. He spied two human silhouettes floating above the steep rise. Mages? Senior ones at that! Rurong's heart grew glad.

His hypothesis was soon answered by screaming orbs of crackling cobalt striking three frogmen quickly. The self-seeking bolts sizzled the thick mucus on contact, then burst into a hysterical brilliance, resulting in an eruption of flesh, amphibian gore and snot.

The startling ultra-violence forced a pause in the combat, followed by an even lull of silence as an enormously hideous humanoid toad materialised from thin air.

A Gila? Rurong had graduated from technical college and thus knew the likeness of Hengsha Dungeon's signature monster. From the icy prickling of imminent death engendering in his spine, Rurong knew he might be in deep shit.

A wave of revulsion and vertigo permeated the battlefield with the Death Gila at its epicentre. The NoMs fell backwards, a few becoming violently ill. Others screamed insensibly. L4 became incontinent.

Shit! Cao! Rurong looked toward his sergeant, whose expression was ashen, suggesting he was likewise affected by the Death Gila's necrotic aura.

The sudden appearance of the three-meter amphibian also smote the Merfolk. The lesser ones fell to the floor and began to thrash and convulse, while the larger ones turned to flee. Their giant leader appeared as though it was facing down a cobra. It halted where it stood, its haunches frozen, too terrified to move.

"Sarge! Now's our chance!"

"Corporal! Get back! Get everyone back now!"

The sergeant's response flipped a switch in Rorong's head. What if these were rogue Mages? Rurong's hope grew dire. "Back! F3! S4! Get back! C11, you take point! MOVE YOUR ASSES!"

The NoMs, as was traditional, were too terrified to obey.

“CAONIMA! You bastards want to die? SHABI! MOVE IT!”

With Rurong's abuse ringing in their ears, the NoMs came to. The first was F3, then S4. Finally, the others began to mobilise. "FORMATION! FOR MAO'S SAKE! FUCKING SPELL FODDER! STAY IN FORMATION!"

The idiots! Rurong growled, wishing he could dispatch one to motivate the others. Supposedly, during Mao's unification campaign, the commissariat system had worked wonders to encourage the NoMs. When a squad had failed to exercise order or delayed the speed of a battlefield manoeuvre, the presiding officer had executed the slowest member, thereby saving the rest of the team from annihilation.

Heedless of the humans panicking, the Death Gila began to move. Terrified, the Frogger alpha spat a globe of sticky residue toward it.

What would the Gila do? Rurong couldn't look away. He had heard that the Death Gila could use Necromantic magic, enfeebling the enemy before tearing it apart.

Without even slowing, the Death Gila opened its maw. A Death Beam? Rurong's heart hammered at his throat.

In one swift motion, the Gila caught the spitball in its mouth-pouch, swallowing it whole.

Rurong vomited a little in his mouth.

"Caliban can perform complex actions independent of my commands," Gwen explained carefully to Jun; she had no desire for her uncle to be surprised in their Dragon-poaching journey. "It leaps, jumps, uses abilities. Caliban even attacks and retreats of its own volition."

"Yet it's not a spirit." Jun tapped his chin. "How curious."

Gwen located three more targets. She made the mental iMage in her mind and then executed the necessary somatic components to activate her newest incantation. "Ball Lightning!"

Three orbs flew from Ariel, some hundred meters away, seeking their targets. Ariel itself was busy mauling a frog spawn with gleeful bloodlust.

"Why aren't we exterminating them?" she asked.

"The Merfolk possess low cunning." Jun indicated to Caliban moving in on the adult alpha. "You should leave the small ones to tell the tale. An overwhelming force always discourages the tribe from sending out larger raiding parties. This way, they're encouraged to raid their own."

Meanwhile, Caliban's claws dug into the giant Frogger's torso with a terrific force, vivisecting the creature in a horrific onslaught, cutting through its exterior without apparent effort.

"Did you figure out how Caliban gathers morphic forms yet?"

"No." Gwen shook her head. "I thought it just took whatever it ate at first, but now that I think of it, it probably has something to do with Affinity, preference or cores."

"Speaking of cores." Jun took her hand. "Let's test that hypothesis. Come."

One Dimension Door later, the two of them were face to face with the dying Frogger. In its final moments, the Merfolk alpha recognised the origin of the creature that had been its undoing. Its intelligent eyes bulged with hate and despair just as Caliban raised a bladed appendage and dashed its brains out, forcing a tennis-ball-sized eyeball to pop from its socket.

Jun stood casually beside the corpse as its assorted organs failed. The creature was almost three hundred kilograms of flesh and bone, and its amphibian offal died sequentially, gurgling and popping as spleens ruptured and vessels deflated.

"Ariel, Caliban!" Gwen retrieved her Familiars.

Jun dug through the body, kicking it apart with his combat boots. With a triumphant expression, he retrieved a small core the size of a fist with Mage Hand.

"Unimpressive, tier III at best," remarked the Ash Mage disappointedly upon closer inspection. "Element's all muddled up too."

As uncle and niece picked about the body for potential loot, the Abjurer and Transmuter approached them. By then, it was self-evident that they were on the same side.

"Sir!" The Transmuter saluted. "Sergeant Li, Anhui Twenty-second Militia, may I petition that you identify yourself?"

The Abjurer fell into step behind his superior officer. Behind them, the troop of frightened but unharmed NoMs regarded the duo with dreadful expressions, clutching their staves with white-knuckled fear. A few of them were covered in their own sick. One man stayed away from the rest, his pants heavy with toxic cargo.

Jun returned a salute. Gwen bowed, then smiled. The men relaxed, then tensed up when they looked at the mountainous carcass that was her accomplishment.

"Jun Song. Captain. Internal Security."

"The Ash Bringer?" The sergeant raised an eyebrow. A moment later, recognition dawned.

“Captain Jun?” His Abjurer companion was beside himself. PLA propaganda must have made a strong impression. "Sir, can I have your autograph?"

"Corporal!" Sergeant Li snapped at his subordinate.

"It's no trouble." Jun materialised a scrapbook. "Your name?"

"Rurong Peng, sir. The boys won't believe it!"

Jun wrote something nice for the young man, signed the page, and then neatly tore it from the book.

"Thank you, sir!"

"You did well, Rurong." Jun patted the man on the shoulder. "We need more men like yourself and Sergeant Li."

"It's our duty." Li beamed.

Gwen watched the proceedings with great interest, marvelling at her uncle's charisma.

"May I enquire as to the young miss?" Li turned to Gwen, bowing deeply.

"My niece. We're in Anhui for business," Jun replied cryptically. "I know the protocol. Here are our passes."

"Of course, sir. Sorry for asking." Sergeant Li checked their passes, then respectfully returned the tablet. "May we be dismissed?"

"You may, Sergeant."

"Thank you, Captain, Miss Song."

"Sir! Ma'am!" Rurong saluted both of them.

"Sergeant. Corporal."

"Bye," Gwen said.

"That went well," Gwen said to Jun, wondering if she’d done well enough to receive a pat on the shoulder.

"I am frankly impressed." Jun warmly patted her shoulder. "Caliban held his own against a tier V monster without endangering others. So Ariel can displace and extend the range of your Evocation, hmm? Very useful indeed."

"Thank you, sir." Gwen mimicked the militiamen, knocking her heels as she touched her fingers to her forehead.

Jun laughed. "Good, keep your spirits up," he replied ominously. "We'll be trying our luck with the quasidragon spawn soon. They're going to be tough customers."

"A real challenge, Uncle?"

"Naturally." Jun nodded. "The ones we're after are immune to Lightning. Besides, the Dragon-kin possesses universal magic resistance. The purer the bloodline, the harder to score a clean hit. We'll visit the local garrison to check in, after which we'll proceed on foot. Hopefully, you'll get your first taste of Dragon flesh by tomorrow night."

Gwen nodded her head, her heart rich with eagerness. Dragon spawn, eaten like free-range chicken!

Chapter eighteen

A Model of You

Jun chose the scenic route, venturing off-road into a patrol trail to acquaint Gwen with the particulars of the local geography.

"Look up," he told her as they moved through the valley, where occasionally a glimpse of the yellow mountain could be seen in the distance, surrounded by clouds and obscured by mist. "The peak you're seeing is the Lotus Peak, about 1864 metres from base to tip. That's where the Yinglong has its lair. Behind it, just visible, is the Celestial Peak, about 1800 metres. There could be something else living there, but we haven't seen it.

"There's a third rise out of sight, the Bright Peak, aka Guanghua Peak, verily the moniker used for the Fudan Towers. Together, the three peaks form a natural ley line called the Three Heavenly Reaches. The locals suspect an open tear into an Elemental Plane exists somewhere in between because the volumetric thickness of Elemental Air is visible even with the naked eye. Look."

Gwen looked. When she squinted against the sun, she saw the tropospheric cloud banks. In streams and eddies, they swirled and traversed from peak to peak as if moulded by some unseen hand.

As they approached a tree line, Jun slowed the Jeep to a stop. "This is the unspoken natural boundary, marked by the Dragon Pine. Back before the PLA left Anhui, they used to call it the 'Welcoming Pine’."

"I can guess why the name changed."

"Yep, the Yinglong wasn't very welcoming, at least not to the PLA." Jun chuckled. He turned the Jeep around and began to retrace their route. Gwen had no idea how her uncle could navigate using nothing but his head. They would have driven off a cliff if she had been the one performing the orienteering.

"You know what's the most famous produce here in Anhui?"

"Lumber?"

"I wish." Jun slowed the Jeep, then turned into another fire trail. "It's tea. The best green tea in South China. It's called the Maofeng Cha, the Tea of Fur Peak. That name has also changed, by the way."

"Oh?" Gwen was the sort of girl who drank fancy, fashionable fruit tea.

"We call it Dragon Peak Tea now. The main plantation is within the Dragon's territory, and we trade them for it."

"Sounds better than furry tea." Gwen grinned, wondering if her uncle was in on the joke. "Does the Dragon tend to the tea?"

Jun laughed. "I don't know if the Dragon is rubbing the tea trees or dribbling its Dragon juice into the ground or what, but you'll see what I mean once we get back to Hangzhou. There are only a few select places that sell them. Anyway, the circulating currents of Elemental Air up on the Three Heavenly Peaks means the place is permanently clouded. The cloud coverage is good, perfect for hiding. Once we're over the thirteen hundred mark, there's very little visibility past twenty to thirty meters unless a freakish gust clears the bank."

"A Sea of Clouds," Gwen said, thinking of Casper David Frederich's Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. Would she be Gwen above the Sea of Clouds? Indeed, the vista above was of sufficient sublimity to stir the romantic soul. Maybe there was a lumen recorder she could buy or borrow from the base. In all her time flitting from one magical place to another, she hadn't thought about taking any pictures. After all, without Insta or Facebook, what was the point?

What was curious, however, was that the mountain was dark-granite, emerald pine, blue sky and white cloud. There wasn't a spec of yellow to be seen.

"I've been thinking for a while, Uncle," Gwen said. "Why is it called the Yellow Mountain? There's nothing yellow here, not even mustard."

"It's a wordplay. It's said to be the birthplace of the first sage-king, the Huang Emperor. The word 'yellow' and 'Huang' are homophones. Huangshan is also where the forging of the Pill of Immortality took place, so the name caught on. As for how the moniker spread, we have the Sage Li-Bai, the Jade Lotus Wanderer himself, to blame."

"Who's Li-Bai?"

Jun cleared his throat, slowing the Jeep until they faced the mountain and the Sea of Clouds.

"Thirty-six immortal peaks,

Their blades touch heaven.

Morning sun strikes the darkening trees,

Here in this sky-mountain realm.

Men of Han! Raise your mien!

A thousand springs and autumns,

The cranes have come and gone.

Far off, I spy a travelling swordsman,

Plucking clouds from the stone crevice."

Uncle and niece sat in the now-silent Jeep, watching the clouds descend onto the distant mountaintops. The breeze was temperate and pleasant, dispelling the oppressive humidity of summer. Wild and thrilling birdsong filtered through the trees, joined by the chirping of cicadas. Leave rustled, diffusing a minty scent of pine wax.

After an indeterminate passage of poetic silence, Jun restarted the engine. "Welcome to Huangshan." He beamed at Gwen. "Let's go."

The duo reached the Anhui Garrison by late afternoon.

The garrison commander had gotten wind from his returning soldiers that the Ash Bringer himself was in the area and would likely visit them. In anticipation, he had set up a tremendous banquet.

Jun thanked the commander for his hospitality, then bid Gwen join him and the garrison's unisex officer corp for dinner. Upon arrival, they had been given generous accommodations in the officer's quarters. Wanting to make an impression, Gwen changed into something semi-formal, taking her uncle's advice that all the men and women they were liaising with would wear their dress uniforms.

The banquet itself kicked into gear once Jun arrived. He wore his army captain uniform, though his clandestine rank within Internal Security would likely place him at the same level as the base's commander, if not higher.

The next morning, the two were back in their hiking garb, ready to roll out. Jun had acquired an updated map for their perusal. He had consulted the garrison's rangers, updating his knowledge on the local fauna, their whereabouts, and the current occupation of the Yinglong.

"No sighting for two months and three weeks so far," the ranger sergeant said. "If it's not sleeping—that's how Dragons cultivate—it is safe to assume the Lord Dragon isn't active."

Jun thanked the man, then motioned for Gwen to follow. He left the Jeep with the quartermaster, after which the pair embarked on foot. There were no trails into the Three Heavenly Peaks, much less the Sea of Clouds. Aided by Expeditious Retreat and Enhanced Constitution, the pair had to bushwack and trek through the shrubland, using the scenery above and Jun's compass as orientation.

Though forty-something, Jun remained at peak physical condition. Gwen, meanwhile, was buoyed by her good physique, her Druidic Essence, her youth and the stolen vitality of her hapless victims.

"You hike like an army ranger." Jun was sweating when they reached the tree lines at eleven hundred meters above sea level, appearing embarrassed that Gwen was more refreshed than exhausted. "All right, equipment check. No more fun and games after this point. Discovery by the Yinglong could be life or death."

"I understand."

"Here, take these." True to form, Jun had thought of everything. Gwen's uncle produced all the necessary magic items for their "poaching" adventure from his large storage ring, appropriated from the Internal Security quartermaster.

One Optic-Camouflage Cloak, full size.

One pair of Soundless Boots.

One Hide Presence bodysuit, reinforced.

"I know you've got Habitat and potions, so I forwent on those. Babulya informs me that you're able to use Teleportation beacons now?"

"Yes, Uncle."

"Good. You're our Translocator from here on out."

"I am? But you Dimension Doored us earlier."

Jun tapped his wristwatch. "Allenberg's Portable Translocator. Usable three times per day. Takes HDMs as well, though the rearming process is rather fiddly."

"You're not a Conjurer, Uncle?" Gwen had assumed that Jun was a Transmuter-Conjurer.

"I dabble here and there." Jun smirked. "Nothing like your legitimate Schools of Magic. My major school is Evocation. Transmutation is my secondary school. I also know most of the utility low-tier spells from Conjuration, Abjuration, Illusion and Necromancy."

"Wow, that must have taken a while." She thought about her Schools of Magic. Her methodology was cheating the system. She counted the number of schools her uncle knew against her own: Conjuration, Abjuration, Illusion and Necromancy…

When she looked up at Jun, she caught her uncle grinning. Necromancy?

Her tongue became caught on a barb-wire snare. Her uncle was visibly trying to keep a straight face. Is it a joke? The cavalier manner in which Jun had dropped the truth bomb seemed to suggest that Ash Bringer was not joking. If it was true, Jun was now sharing something extraordinarily intimate and delicate. They were now crossing a dangerous threshold of faith.

The trust that Jun delivered made her feel shameful. She had refrained from informing her uncle of many things: Almudj's possession, Henry Kilroy, Elizabeth Sobel, and the ultimate secret that she was a twin-souled cross-dimensional migrant thrust across space and time to usurp his niece's body.

A little alarmed, Gwen tested the waters for buoyancy. Far more accustomed to the crumbs of intimacy, Jun's generosity frightened her, setting her mind on edge. "I must have misheard."

"I don't think so. I meant what I said."

"Seriously though, Necromancy?"

"It's an old family secret. A necessity. I suppose my father wouldn't have told you, and it seems Hai never shared that secret. His selfish instinct for self-preservation astounds me sometimes. But to answer your question, Yes. Necromancy."

If knowledge could induce vertigo, then that was what Gwen was feeling.

"Can you clarify? Sorry, Uncle, it's just a lot to take in… in a place and time like this."

Jun pulled out his half of the Kirin Amulet. "You activate this—" he met her hazel orbs with his charcoal irises. "—with Necromancy. That's our clan's secret."

Gwen couldn't help feeling that Guo would jump out from behind a pine tree and start screaming at her. Her brother was using the amulet, was he not? "S-should you be telling me this? Does this mean Percy…"

So Percy's a bloody Necromancer?

"Oh, yes." When Jun saw that she was beginning to hyperventilate, he gave her a confident smile. "Let me stop you there. Don't fret! The magic may be Necromantic, but it isn't a spell to raise the dead. There's nothing overtly illicit about it other than the political."

"Oh, that makes it all better," Gwen replied with unintended sarcasm; she was still trying to catch her wits from escaping through her ears.

"Watch." Jun produced the core they had seized from the Frogger alpha. "Ready? Stand back. A little further. A little more. There you go. Normally, the rite is much more subtle. I am going to show you the full extent of it to vindicate its reputation."

Gwen nodded, her eyes as wide open as humanly possible. Necromancy! Now that she had calmed herself, she could rationalise that it wasn't so bad. Magister Lee had gone on and on about this. To think he’d been mocking her clan as well.

Her fright stemmed more from social stigma from the indoctrinated learning that Necromantic magic was the worst thing to have ever happened to the human race. But this was her uncle.

"Drain Life!"

There was a sudden dimming of the sunlight surrounding Jun, as though something invisible had distorted the spectrum. The area around Jun's feet turned instantly to decay, with every living thing within half a meter radius turned to Elemental Ash.

The Frogger Core cracked. Gwen could feel a presence, a palpable life force akin to her Druidic Essence, escape from the misshapen orb and enter Jun's body. Her uncle took the life force without blinking, then casually stowed the remains.

"Drain Life, the staple spell of the Necromantic school. The transference of the life energy of another to empower one's Negative-Affinity incantations. Though considered Necromancy, it's perhaps truer to say that it's a form of latent biomancy. In conjunction with the Kirin Amulet, the Necromantic infusion of Drain Life syphons drained Essence, living or undead, into the Kirin stone as pure Essence. I can draw forth this purified Essence to fuel my casting. Though my Ash is more volatile than your Void, I can remain combat-active for a long time. My single longest bout of combat was fourteen thousand VMIs’ worth of continuous spell-casting, all thanks to the stored Essence I had collected. That battle made me famous. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.” Gwen stared at the Kirin Amulet, thinking of Percy’s other half. “I want to hear it, though.” Gods, fourteen thousand VMIs’ worth of spells? That must have been some battle! She was surprised there wasn't a book about it.

"I am surprised you haven't heard it. Another time then," Jun teased her. "All I can tell you now is that I managed to spend six years' worth of accumulated Essence in twenty-two hours of continuous combat."

"The Kirin Amulet," Gwen cut in, suddenly sad now that she knew the truth. "I gave mine up."

"I don't know about that." Her uncle smirked.

"Is it possible to make an amulet?" Gwen pulled her eyes away from the dazzling presence of the solution to all her problems. "Are there Kirins here we can kill?"

"No. Kirins are near Mythic Class." Jun batted away her romantic fantasy.

"Not to mention, if we did possess a core, where are you going to find an Enchanter of antiquity at the eighth tier versed in the old magic of the Song dynasty?"

“Oh." Magister Wen was said to be close to eight, but Gwen could hardly trust the knowledge-crazed academic, not to mention her less than pure interest. Her opa was at tier VI, but the wizened oldie was unlikely to progress any higher in his craft. In fact, with the onset of dotage, his proficiency would slip rather than grow. "Maybe with CCs?"

"Impossible." Jun shook his head. "A world-class Enchanter would be needed, one that is Chinese and well-versed in ancient magic. You can't tell anyone of this at any rate, else the greatest secret of our clan would be known to outsiders. The MSS Secretary and the Ash Bringer, Necromancers? Gwen, we wouldn't have enough heads for the CCP to chop. What would happen to Grandmother if either of us carelessly blabbed?"

"Does the CCP know?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Jun shrugged. "I've been told no, at any rate. The rite of the Kirin's Blessing remains an heirloom secret."

"But you just told me."

"Indeed, I've told a member of my family, a dear member."

Gwen hesitated. The taste in her mouth was bittersweet.

"Gwen," Jun leaned inward, his presence looming over her. Her uncle's closeness made her flush with a strange heat. She had never confronted a family member who’d opened their heart. She forced herself to face Jun's paternal gaze, feeling abashed by how differently they felt. Internally, her thirty-something spirit clashed with the teenage oxytocins firing away inside the hemisphere of her brain.

When Jun spoke again, it was with absolute sincerity. "If and when I am no longe—"

Her uncle's fatalistic words splashed over her feverous rapture like a bucket of ice-cold water. "No. No. NO. NO," Gwen heard herself say. "I don't want that. Ever."

"Let me finish. Gwen, I am a soldier. A good soldier doesn't die in a retirement home. In the probable event that I perform the ultimate service in Mao's name, I have instructed in my will that the Kirin Amulet will go to you."

Gwen felt a sudden and grotesque loathing for the Kirin Stone. She wanted to pull it from Jun's neck and dash it against some rocks or launch it into the sky and consume it with a Void Bolt.

"Don't say that!" The voice that issued from her lips felt not her own. She felt suffocated, her breath parting raggedly. "Fuck the amulet! I'll stick to Consume. I'll eat every bloody one of my foes: man, woman, Dragon or otherwise. I don't need it!"

Jun touched a hand to her quivering cheeks. "I have no children. I want it to go to you."

"You don't know that!" Gwen said. "Maybe there's something you haven't tried. The Elves might have something. Wen said they have Druids. I've got Druidic Essence! I can consult with Almudj, a mythic being, if and when it wakes up. If it can bring life to the dead clay of Australia, it can help you conceive children. Hell, ask Dad for one. He's probably got bastards everywhere!"

Gwen could barely breathe. How did it come to this? They were just about to enter the forest, then Jun made a joke about Necromancy, and then it wasn't a joke. How the hell had they arrived at this morbid bullshit fucked up conversation?

Her uncle brushed a lock of wayward hair from her face, one that had fallen out of place in her excitement.

"My Affinity is seven, almost eight, and I don't even have a spirit," Jun said. "I cannot have children because the Ashen Mana has made me its vessel. With a touch, I can turn even the undead to ash. Not even the greatest Necromancy can raise what I have laid to rest. That is why I am the Hero of the Northern Campaign.

“Gwen, you see, oblivion and I, we're old chums. We've walked side by side for far too long. I am not a man capable of bringing life. That was the price I paid for power. There is balance in all things, Gwen. A man such as I cannot be greedy. Else the Ash would bring calamity to everyone I love."

"Uncle…" Gwen touched her chin. Her cheeks were wet. Am I crying? Jesus Christ, she scolded herself. My internal chemistry must be a hot mess.

She opened her mouth to speak, to find soothing assurances, only to discover herself in the rare circumstance of being lost for words. Her estrangement from her old-world family had meant that never had she entertained the possibility of a loved one being consigned to the Void, never to be seen again.

"Uncle, I…" Caliban swallowed her tongue.

She watched Jun's calloused hands move from her face, mesmerised by his slow, articulate fingers. Suddenly, in a swift gesture, Jun pinched her nose.

"Uncle!" Gwen protested, her adult soul feeling bruised and ashamed.

It was as though a spell had been broken.

"Nobody is dying, you silly goose of a girl," her uncle said. "Such morbid thinking! I am going to live for a long while yet. So will you, and so will father and mother. Hai's going to have another child. You're going to have a baby sibling. You will have children one day too. We'll be four generations sitting at the banquet table."

Gwen stared at her uncle, stunned by the sudden change in tone.

"Why should anyone be dying? I am hale and healthy thanks to the Kirin Stone. Your biometrics are fine as well, far better than mine. Caliban is doing God's work, or at least the work of some deity-like power that resides in the Void. Some dark, old god, maybe, who knows? You have a balancing force, Gwen, which makes you precious. My path is not for you."

"A dark power, you say? An old god?" Gwen scoffed, thinking of Caliban.

With her sentimentally dashed, she felt at a loss. She felt a little hurt. Why can’t Jun play the doting father for a little longer? She was really feeling it! It was warm, fuzzy, sour, sweet, and bitter all at once. Just a little longer would have sealed up something that had been leaking since she’d left home at the age of sixteen.

Gwen sighed; instead of an internal retreat, she felt an ill humour rising to the fore, a reflexive response to the blues. "Uncle, there is a god in the Void. What if I told you his name is Yog-Sothoth? The Hungry One? The Lurker at the Threshold?"

Jun's expression grew earnest. In response, Gwen opened her arms and raised her hands to encompass the vista of the mountains, just as Jun had done the day before when reciting Li-Bai.

"Great is HE, the protoplasmic flesh that flowed blackly outward to join together and form that eldritch, hideous horror from outer space, that spawn of the blankness of primal time, that tentacled amorphous monster—the noxious one—who froths as first slime in nuclear chaos beyond the nethermost outposts of Void and time!

Lä! Yog-Sothoth!

Lä! He who lurks in the dark!"

"Mao!" Jun's expression transformed into a mask of concern. "Great Leader's Ghost! Are you serious?"

Gwen kept her face serious for as long as she could. When her uncle's severity proved too much, she burst into laughter. Her uncle joined in nervously, studying her face for signs of madness. When Gwen met his scepticism, she doubled over with a joy that was half-choked laughter. Only when she became almost blue in the face did her uncle concede that her jest was genuine.

"Oh, Uncle." Gwen wiped away ambivalent tears. Her makeup was ruined.

But the time for that was over. Up ahead was the imminent business of the tree line and a sojourn in the Sea of Clouds.

"I'll be changing into the suit. No peeking."

Jun scoffed. "Wouldn't dream of it. You're too skinny anyway. What's there to see?"

Gwen snorted derisively at her uncle. She seized her boots, cloak and bodysuit, then loudly rustled her clothes to inform her uncle that she was slipping out of one gear and into another.

Jun kept his eyes on the horizon, meditating.

"Yog-Sothoth," he mumbled to himself, mincing her joke. "The Lurker, the spawn of blankness… blackness? Darkness? The toxic one."

Chapter nineteen

Bush Meat

The military-issue bodysuit from the PLA was a wonder compared to the mass-produced variety rationed to Gwen by the Melbourne Tower.

Its Hide Presence Enchantment soaked up all scent and sweat, was resistant to heat and cold, and helped her skin breathe through its porous fabric. The suit was semi-plated and magically fitted, protecting her bosom and abdomen. It possessed a stocky collar made from Magi-tech, with a slot for inserting raw or processed HDM crystals.

When she asked her uncle to check her equipment, Jun's reaction gave Gwen a smug thrill, knowing she had paid him back for that too-skinny remark.

"It's American." Jun noticed her fiddling with the artificer's tag. "Only the States make stuff like this. They're known for it."

The Soundless Boots were of Chinese construct, a copy of the Elven variety known to deaden all sound of the wearer's passage. A fashionista at heart, she noticed that despite its parallel magical qualities, the boots were hideously tailored.

"The CCP tried its best." Jun shrugged. "For now, our Manufactoriums can only copy, not create."

The Optic-Camouflage Cloak was the last layer, a Japanese creation. The tag read "Sumitomo Heavy Industries", sporting a four-diamond petal flower as a logo.

With the cloak activated, Gwen and Jun could spot one another due to an inherent design included in the product. To outsiders, they appeared as grass, stone, bark, foliage, and all but invisible when remaining still.

"Keep Caliban and Ariel out," Jun advised. "Apply your Invisibility spell. Get them used to the woods. Ariel should have a scent like most of the creatures here. As for Caliban, I suppose we should be glad it's scentless."

"I'll get it to roll around and pick up the ambient odour," Gwen suggested. A presence without scent was just as notable to the right pair of olfactory organs.

"Sure, we'll be taking some time to get acquainted with the landscape and the fauna."

The party of four moved out.

Soon, an adorable Marten, a spawn of Yog-Sothoth, the Ash Bringer and the Girl Who Eats lined up at the tree line formerly known as “Welcoming Pine”.

Jun bunched a fist, raising it beside his ear.

Gwen halted, holding her breath, not making a sound. Her first foray into a Purple Zone had her walking on tippy toes as soon as they’d stepped past the first set of gnarly trees.

The visibility within the mountain was horrendous. The massive cloud bank that moved and shifted with the currents from the Elemental Plane of Air sent down mist and gusts almost ceaselessly, pelting the duo with light showers of pine needles.

After the first three hours and fifteen kilometres, Gwen understood precisely why the magical equipment was essential. It was the micro-climate.

The region's flora consisted mainly of Pinus and strobus, punctuated by the occasional magnolia and interrupted by unexpected groves of enormous bamboo. The conifers did not grow straight but burst from granite outcroppings, twisting and turning like the proverbial Dragon until finally erupting into waxy umbrellas of dark jade.

Whenever a wayward gust stirred the leaves, a shower of pelting pine needles fell upon uncle and niece, sliding from their durability-enhanced cloaks in glistening sheets. When the rain passed through the region, it filled the surrounding area with a freezing mist that chilled the bone. Yet, walking through the muggy fog was a warm, wet and bedraggled affair. Had they not been wearing their American-made bodysuits, the alternating heat of the stifling summer and the cold bursts from the Elemental Plane of Air would have sapped their mortal bodies before long.

Another hour in, they heard the crashing sound of ponderous lumbering. Their first victim arrived, crawling on all fours. A goanna?

No, Gwen corrected herself. A Pangolin. A Draconic Pangolin.

"Check it," Jun commanded.

Gwen incanted a Detect Magic, relying on the suit's enchantments to muffle her sound and movement.

The Pangolin was six meters long and just over two metres tall. It didn't look particularly ferocious, though the scales on its back suggested an imperviousness to physical assaults. In the zoology of Gwen's old world, Pangolins protected themselves by curling into impenetrable balls. In the cryptozoology of this world, Gwen felt she could assume an educated guess of the same. Indicatively, the ridges on its scales inferred a Draconic origin, though it was visually evident that the thing was more Pangolin than thorny-drake.

The element that radiated from the creature was a dull ochre.

"Earthen," Gwen passed along the silent Message, their devices operating via LOS and radius.

"Care for first blood or let it pass?"

Gwen considered Jun's offer. The creature looked reasonably powerful. Maybe Caliban could pick up a new form? Her Void worm already possessed a lizard-amphibian body morph, not to mention Caliban was primarily immune to physical damage, presuming infinite access to vitality. Having armour plating on Caliban was akin to adding nipples to a bat suit.

"It's all right." Gwen felt no desire to kill gluttonously. They allowed the creature to pass.

"Let's see where it's going," Jun suggested. “Creatures like these do not roam without reason. Follow my lead."

As a novice tracker, Gwen could only do her best. Her agility and natural fitness, combined with purpose-made magical items, however, more than made up for her inexperience. Their quarry, likewise, was supremely confident in its safety, paying no heed to Gwen's potential blunders.

The duo pursued the Draconic Pangolin for half a kilometre until it stopped.

A buzzing sound that had been barely audible before grew louder as they climbed. Soon, the winged thrum grew to encompass every audible spectrum as the duo came within visible distance of the Pangolin's prize.

The beehive—at least, that's what it resembled—was enormous; it hung three meters tall from zenith to nadir, hanging from the side of a pine tree with such weight that its growth had yielded to the unwelcome burden. Bees the width and size of two of Gwen's fingers caught sight of the Pangolin. Within several seconds, they began to swarm.

"We're in luck." Jun motioned with a glance. "Wildland Sting-blossoms. Their honey is good enough to extend your life and restore youth. There's the queen inside as well. That's what the Pangolin wants. We should gather the honey. One portion can be for my mother and the others you can use as gifts. It's a fairly sought-after youth elixir for women."

"Sounds good. Anything for Babulya! So do we keep watch for now?"

"For now, yes. We must intercept it before it eats the queen when the time comes."

"Are we saving the queen?" Gwen hadn't figured Jun for an entomological conservationist.

"You're going to eat it." Jun was likely smiling underneath the cowl.

Meanwhile, the Pangolin strolled toward the nest, possessing no consideration for the thousand or so bees swarming its face, eyes and nose.

"Armoured eyeballs?" Gwen marvelled at the resilience of the creature.

"Probably immune to poison too—Draconic constitution."

The Pangolin stood on its rear two legs, climbed the nest and began to pound away at the shell-case exterior. Chunks of sticky honey fell from the nest in golden globs, filling the air with sickly sweetness. Watching the spectacle, Gwen felt nostalgic for the running commentary of a certain British naturalist.

“Hmm, this is not good.” Jun urged Gwen to remain hidden. He pointed a finger upward. The Pangolin's efforts continued unabated.

A rustling sound came from a treetop.

The two looked up to see a feathered silhouette outlined against the mist-diffused sky. Gwen adjusted her magic. It took a great deal of concentration to focus Detection spells in a place like this.

"Another predator!" she informed her uncle, her voice eager and hungry.

"Good for us, but wait and see," Jun advised. "We need to ground it with Void or Ash; it's likely highly resistant to Lightning. It's interested in the nest, likely the queen itself."

Jun's hypothesis proved correct.

The Pangolin also noted the intruder. It turned to the bird-like creature and began to bark. The bird ignored it. As far as it was concerned, the terrestrial-bound Pangolin was harmless.

What a waste of a Draconic bloodline, Gwen grumbled. At least have a Dragon breath or something. How unimpressive.

Without a reply from the bird-thing, the Pangolin returned to the nest and continued digging. By now, the bees were in a frenzy. Had Gwen not seen the process, she would have thought the Pangolin was naturally armoured with a buzzing layer of living chitin.

"It's making a move. Get ready. Lightning Sphere on the bees. Avoid the nest. Void on the Pangolin. Go for the eyes. I'll clip the flyer."

"Yes, Uncle."

The avian silhouette began to move. When the bird creature came into view, Gwen realised it was a winged lizard. The spectacle of the chimeric creature was as strange as it was awe-inspiring. The scales were rainbow-hued, a dark oily obsidian with a petrol sheen. Its wings were like the Macaw's, a brilliant emerald and vibrant orange burst with just a touch of cobalt at the tip.

It swooped for the exposed queen.

Splat!

To their surprise, the Pangolin was waiting for it.

Clever bastard! Gwen's lips parted in surprise. The stupid-looking, ponderous Pangolin launched a glob of honey toward its assailant! The delicious golden liquid caught the lizard entirely by surprise, smacking it face-first and crashing it against the ground.

Suddenly, the bees that had made their new nest on the Pangolin's hide found a new target.

"Good God!" Gwen grimaced. The lizard was instantly carpeted in bees with stings the size of surgical needles. She didn't need to be a biologist to know that the rainbow bird lizard did not have armoured eyes.

"Huuu huuu huuu." The Pangolin laughed. It was laughing!

Fuck. Gwen thanked the gods for her uncle. It was fucking intelligent! The fucking thing was sapient! What did that mean?

"Well, that kicks it up a tier or two." Jun seemed relieved they had waited as well. "We're swapping targets. I am on the Pangolin. You take care of the bees. As for the queen, you'll have to retrieve it by hand. Use your Void Skin; your gear should be elementally-shifted."

The Pangolin turned back to the hive.

"Ashen Spear!"

A bolt of white ash struck the creature's head, hitting it just below the right eye. There was a sickening crunch as the armour plating crumbled, filling its head with Negative Energy.

The Pangolin slumped, losing all interest in the nest. The unique attribute of the plane of desolation and destruction sapped its will. It turned around apathetically, uncaring of what had penetrated its scaly dermis. It wanted to flee, but its instincts were brutally suppressed.

"Ashen Smite!"

Blasts of Necrotic fire, burning invisibly, consumed its limbs until only stumps remained. The Pangolin fell onto its belly, barely bothering to move, patiently awaiting death.

Gwen, meanwhile, stepped into the open, clad in midnight.

She moved like tenebrous ink, her feminine figure shifting with the alien articulation of ferrofluid. A frenzied swarm left the lizard and assaulted her as she approached. When the bees made contact, a sizzling sound of corrosion signalled the futility of the insect's actions. Gwen's Void Skin hadn’t been enough to stop Lulan's blows, but it was perfect against swarms.

After the first two hundred bee kamikazes, Gwen could feel her vitality stores beginning to falter. These were large and heavy insects, and they kept on coming relentlessly. The good news was that she had future provisions in the form of a lizard and a limbless Pangolin.

She reached the nest, crushing mounds of half-consumed bee corpses underfoot.

There it was—the queen. It was easily distinguishable by its golden buttocks, aflame with whatever passed for hair in insects.

Jesus Christ. Gwen felt her skin crawl. The bee monarch was the length of her forearm! She reached out with a blackened arm as the buzzing intensified. The dive-bombing of the bees continued, covering the floor with carcasses.

"Erect a half-dome shield, keep the workers at bay, then eat the queen. Snap off the abdomen. That's where the important parts are," Jun said.

Gwen knew her uncle meant eating in the literal sense.

The queen writhed in her hand. Its abdomen curled suddenly; a pale-white egg ejaculated from its ovipositor. The creature's compound eyes regarded Gwen's Void-smothered, featureless mien with insectile eyes begging for mercy. She could let it go, but this wasn't that sort of adventure. She wasn't there to Disney princess. Gwen was there to eat.

"Shield!" Gwen retreated the portion of Void Skin protecting her face.

Goodbye, sweet sanity! Fare thee well, noble queen!

She took her supplement like a bitter pill. The queen was stingless, but it was too large for her mouth. Gwen had to take it in recurring bites.

The insect died, hopefully without pain. In her mouth, the innards exploded, filling the cavern of her mouth with the thankful scent of royal honey. She munched and munched, dreaming of deep-fried soft-shell crabs with salt and pepper.

Gwen must have drunk about a litre of water as they waited for the bees to disperse. When finally, the last bee wandered off, the two collated their loot.

Jun stowed a dozen portions of the honey, ate a length of honeycomb, and then cleansed the area with ash.

Her Familiars gluttonously polished off the remaining molasses, with Ariel stuffing its mouth pouches full of the sticky liquid as Caliban took up entire slabs—dirt, bee and all—sliding whole lattices into its bottomless maw.

"Let's test your hypothesis." Jun checked their misty surroundings. Visibility remained poor. "Time for a Lightning Affinity boost."

"Caliban, enough playing. It's time to work!" Gwen called for her pet.

Caliban came slithering forth, slathered with honey.

The winged lizard, disappointingly, turned out to be a unique species. Lacking the resilience of the Dragon-kin, it had unfortunately perished in the bees’ assault, having had its eyes and soft parts pumped full of venom.

Jun flipped the thing over. He sliced it open only to find a shattered core of no value.

"Well, that's a shame," he said. "Maybe we should have moved sooner."

Beside the corpse of the winged lizard, the Pangolin watched the two humans without emotion or distress. Until the Negative Energy Drain from Jun's Ash faded, it would remain utterly indifferent, disinterested in anything and everything.

When Gwen touched her hand to the Pangolin's snout, it merely regarded her with deadened orbs awaiting death.

"Uncle, this is the effect of all Ash attacks?" Gwen was curious, thinking of the Huashan Elder whom Jun's Disintegrate had struck. He seemed to have lost all will to live.

"Indeed." Jun inclined his chin in affirmation. "As one of the four Negative Quasi-elementals, Ash removes an individual's seven passions and six desires. I would have been deadened to the world were it not for the Kirin Amulet. Ash users are comparable with Void Mages, though our malady tends to be of the mind rather than the body."

"Are there others like you, Uncle? Ash Mages, I mean."

"Oh, yes," Jun answered. "The ones who survive have all found ways to deal with the side effects, one way or another. Unlike Void Mages, we have an abundance of time. An insensible, uncaring Ash Mage can still be studied. They make excellent specimens, considering how little they care about their wellbeing."

The two hid for another half an hour, waiting for more scavengers.

"Right, I guess nothing interesting is going to show up. Let's finish up. Not bad for our first day. At least we found a Draconic-something."

Gwen regarded the Draconic Pangolin. The creature watched its captors.

"Steel your resolve, Gwen." Jun gave her a prod on the shoulder. "If this thing escapes, we're both going to be hunted until we get back to Shanghai."

"Sorry, big guy," Gwen said to the Pangolin. "Caliban, you're up."

Her serpent performed its terrible duty, starting at the tail. Inch by inch, like a python working its way up the body of a saltwater croc, her creature slid its victim into its gullet. Empathically, Gwen could feel that Caliban was enjoining its meal very much.

When finally only the head of the Pangolin remained, it suddenly appeared to have regained some of its lost lucidity. The Ashen mana must have worn off.

A sudden look of fear and desperation entered its eyes.

"TAILUEN VE!" An enormous sound emerged from its lips, echoing through the mist and bouncing off the trees.

It can speak? Gwen's mind grew blank.

"Kill it now!" Jun commanded.

"FOO! SIA KIN WI—"

"Caliban!" Gwen jolted her familiar with a shot of vitality. Caliban convulsed, and the engorged body of the Void serpent expanded suddenly outward, then violently contracted. The motion was enough to pull the rest of the Pangolin into Caliban's maw.

"Bad luck." Jun pulled the cloak over his head. "Dismiss Caliban. Cloak up. We got to get moving. Send Ariel out to scent up the place."

Caliban's carapace clicked shut.

"What did it say?"

Her uncle shook his head. Maybe the man knew, but he said nothing.

Receiving no confirmation from her uncle, Gwen dismissed her Void worm and her gluttonous Ariel. She activated her cloak.

The vitality hit came a moment later. On the Nephres index, she would register it as a six, just enough to keep her disabled but conscious.

"I'll need about five minutes," Gwen spat out between clenched teeth, her face as strained as baked beets as waves of vitality battered her astral and physical body. "The life force of this thing is enormous!"

Her uncle laid her beside him and covered both of them with his optic cloak, forming the shape of a lichen-covered boulder.

Ariel helped by dashing here and there, leaving its scent to confuse potential pursuers. As a creature of Air and Positive Energy, Ariel's trail of Lightning residue would hide the presence of its human masters. When the Marten was half a kilometre away, Gwen retrieved her Familiar. She couldn't move, but she could do that, at least.

Uncle and niece thus waited, Gwen's breath coming in quick bouts.

The answer to their opportunistic ambush arrived as a thunderous swooping. A vast shadow covered the area of the now ravaged nest, after which a serpentine enormous flying dinosaur alighted. Gwen stared despite the Pangolin's Draconic Essence pouring in, sending her mind into a euphoria-induced tailspin.

The intruder hovered midair with the grace of a falling feather, its wings churning not wind but Elemental Air itself. It then landed tail first, balancing its overlong frame before touching down, at which point the length of its rear legs coiled to take the weight of its body.

An Amphiptere? Gwen guessed between the convulsions. No. A Wyvern. The Amphiptere did not possess any limbs and resembled more so a winged serpent. This thing had two pairs of hind legs and bat wings that could be folded to support the fore of its body.

What Gwen found alarming wasn't so much the size of the creature nor its imposing presence.

It was that the Draconic Wyvern was a mount.

The rider looked like a bona fide Dragon-kin, a rare offspring between a humanoid and a Dragon. Invariably, these Dragon men were the result of females coupling with Draconic beings. Unlike the egg-producing reptilian partners, mammalian creatures rarely, if ever, survived the child-bearing agony of gestating a child far more substantial, powerful and more demanding than that which the mother's physiology could bear.

How could a womb of warm flesh survive a child of teeth and claws? How does a mortal mother provide the necessary Essence and nutrients for an offspring who would outlive its birther by magnitudes measured in centuries?

The alternative was likewise unthinkable. A Dragon kind, subjecting itself to be impregnated by a lesser creature? Absurdity!

The Draconic humanoid stood just over three meters, with iridescent scales more serpentine than draconic. That was expected, for the Yinglong was a creature of the air. Only terrestrial Dragons favoured heavy plating. The thing's face had a casual sophistication, a smooth reptilian head ending in an elegant snout. As for whether it was male or female, it was impossible to tell.

Gwen tried to stifle her convulsions, her chest rising and falling violently. Furrowing his brows, Jun gently placed a hand onto her diaphragm, then channelled into her channels a sliver of Ash-tainted mana.

Beneath her uncle's calloused hand, Gwen felt her interminable sensations abruptly cease.

Such was the power of the Ash Mage, an assault that was both mental and physical, peerless against any sentient creature capable of longing and agitation. Once she was calm, Jun lifted his hand from her abdomen and cupped her mouth, reminding Gwen to remain still.

No more than fifty paces from where they’d taken the guise of granite boulders, the pearlescent Dragon-kin was rubbing the ashen mixture of dirt, honey and dead insects between its scaly fingers. Its eyes were glowing with what looked like Divination magic.

Unlike humans, Dragons attained abilities with age and bloodline and could train in almost any form of magic. Be it human Spellcraft or demi-human, they were the apex existence in a world of creatures immeasurably more powerful than humanity. Were it not for the Draconic races' loathing of each other and their few numbers, the world would have turned into the Dragons' plaything.

As for their optic obfuscation, her uncle was confident in the Japanese artificer's craft. When static, the Transmutation Enchantment transformed the surface layer into lichen and stone; it was only in motion that Illusion came into play, exposing the wearer to keen eyes and low-level divinations.

"I smell human equipment," The Wyvern spoke through rows of dagger teeth. "Ayxin, you see anything?"

Her uncle translated the speech into Common through their Message devices. He had come equipped with a Ghost-spec Ioun Stone.

"Si keefum munthrek equip, Ayxin, re wux ocuirir?"

Comparatively, Gwen's ears registered a syllabic string of what sounded like Cantonese mixed with tongue clicks and a hacking cough. Unable to comprehend their new circumstance, she closed her eyes and focused on circulating her new-found Draconic vitality.

"We lost one of our young ones. I think it was Angkar-Molis; this is his domain."

"Bah, a weakling of no import."

The one who scoffed was the Wyvern. Tyrian-purple scales covered its tree-trunk, serpentine neck. On its massive head, over its eye ridge, a few bright cobalt feathers jutted from its horned crest, giving it a refined dignity. Its eyes were hungry and cruel, a single reptilian slit that scanned its surroundings hungrily, a dark gash amidst the sky-blue iris.

A Thunder Wyvern, Gwen noted apprehensively.

The creature was the jackpot Jun and Gwen had sought, though they had no hopes for its subdual. Her uncle whispered that they would be evenly matched, but he was confident he would eventually win out if he liberally consumed the stowed Essence in the amulet.

"The queen's gone." The pearlescent one called Ayxin kicked what remained of the bee's nest. "Lots of human magic residue here. I don't know, though. Something's not right. Angkar's a resilient child. I would have expected more collateral damage."

"He was a pup." The Wyvern cocked his head arrogantly. Jun's translation wasn't exact, but it worked. "Now likely someone's armour."

"Don't be like that." The humanoid Dragon-kin gave his mount a cold look.

The two looked to linger for a bit longer, checking the area, but a shift in the wind meant the region would soon be smothered by fog and mist. Watching the haze thicken, the two made one last round through the site.

"Let's return to the peak," the pearlescent one advised.

The humanoid Dragon-kin mounted the Wyvern without a word. The pair took flight amidst a great bell beat of bat-like wings twenty meters from tip to tip.

"Gwen, keep meditating. Don't move," her uncle whispered.

After a few minutes, they heard beating wings pounding the air above their heads.

The Wyvern snorted. "See? Told you. So much for that prized head of yours."

"Shut up, Golos."

The sound of wingbeats faded once the Wyvern reached the necessary altitude, where it caught a slipstream of Elemental Air.

Her uncle's arms stirred.

"Hee hee, the mind of a Dragon is formidable, but a man's mind is far more suitable to ploys and schemes. As creatures of absolute power, it was difficult for the Dragons to position themselves from the perspective of the meek. Remember that, Gwen."

Underneath him, Gwen raised her head and shoulders, putting herself onto her elbows.

"How do you feel?" Jun asked.

"Wonderful." Gwen met her uncle's eyes. "Uncle, I am feeling on top of the world."

Chapter twenty

Happy Campers

Jun suggested they penetrate deeper into the Yinglong's territory before extracting to an outer region to lay low; it would both throw off their pursuers' expectations and provide opportunities to Consume higher-order lifeforms.

"Resource raids are the norm here," Jun explained to Gwen as she stretched, too full of energy to remain static and standing. "There are no resonance crystals between here and Hefei, the capital of the Anhui Frontier, or any surrounding regions. When tensions are high, it's a free-for-all."

"That means we won't cause a stir?"

"No, not if we remain discreet. There should be thousands of beasts like the one you just Consumed. As long as we avoid the pure-bloods, like that talking duo, I doubt the Yinglong would care." Jun inspected Gwen's gear again. The next portion of their poaching adventure would be doubly more dangerous, and any equipment failure would result in mission failure. "Let's find a place to rest for the night. You still need to process the queen's latent life Essence."

At the mention of the poor insect, Gwen forced down her priceless cargo even as the revolting remembrance threatened to expel the queen's mangled carcass. Soft-shell crab, Gwen told herself. Nori-avocado wrapped in sushi rice from Sushi Hub down on George Street.

"It'll do you good." Jun seemed hellbent on seeing her finish her food. "A creature capable of spawning tens of thousands of younglings almost indefinitely until its death. Imagine the primal Essence contained in something like that!"

Gwen would prefer not to imagine anything.

As night fell, the temperature dropped considerably. Even sheltered by their bodysuits, Gwen felt a chill permeating her skin.

The two reached a sheltered outcrop and then employed Transmutation magic to form an isolated one-meter escarpment unreachable by creatures without considerable arboreal or flying capabilities.

Gwen set up her Portable Habitat, then laid down a Lightning-based Faithful Hound. The subtle mana signature would not seem out of place, giving them plenty of warning to buff up before clearing out.

Once inside, the duo finally relaxed. The need for constant vigilance had had niece and uncle walking on a tightrope all day.

Gwen freed her Familiars in the living room. She had grown accustomed to their presence. Caliban coiled up under the coffee table to contemplate its next meal while Ariel raced around the habitat in a frenzy, scenting every inch of its new abode.

"Can you cook?" Her uncle asked while checking the pantry and the cooler, finding both empty. Kusu had meticulously cleaned the cottage before returning it to Gwen. "I've got military rations if you can't."

Gwen produced a small mountain of Korean instant noodles and a dozen cans of Spam.

Jun regarded the volume of “food” presented in front of them. "Military rations it is. We'll hunt and forage something edible tomorrow."

Gwen hadn't wanted to trouble Jun with domestic duties, but her woeful home economics prevented her from exercising high school home economics bewitcheries. She could strut, she could kick ass and she could talk, but cook? Neither of her lives in either world had equipped her for culinary craftsmanship. She’d forgotten to turn off a boiling pot of pasta water once. Two hours later, the plastic on the lid had caught fire. She’d become henceforth known by her neighbours as the woman who could set water on fire.

"Go freshen up. Run a Cleansing Cube over your gear." Jun ran a hand across the length of the table and produced a dozen silvery packets without labels.

"Those are?" Gwen eyed the bars.

"Military rations," Jun announced. "Tonight, we're having Aurok Stroganoff, Shandong Chicken, Coconut Rice and Custard Pudding."

Oh my God. Gwen glanced at her mountain of Spam. There were ready-to-eat military rations that could be heated up with magic and immediately consumed. What the hell am I doing? Why didn't anyone teach this at the university?

"It'll take a few minutes to plate them. Go. I'll find us cutlery."

Gwen retreated from the living room, feeling better that Jun didn't have to waste more time.

Perhaps a little inconsiderately, she took the main bedroom. Once inside, she unhooked the cloak from her neck, inspected the fabric for damage, and tucked it on a wall hanger. The bodysuit was harder to remove. Even with the zipper down, a contortionist's level of flexibility was required to disrobe.

Would it be too much to ask her uncle? God, that would be awkward.

Suddenly, she slapped herself on the forehead. An ingenious Mage Hand solved her problem, allowing her second skin to be productively peeled.

She turned to the mirror doors of the built-in cupboard to inspect her post-draconic Consumption body.

No tail.

No horns.

No scales.

To her hypercritical eyes, her unusually pallid complexion appeared to have acquired a warmer hue. She slowly twirled, arching her neck, inspecting any nooks and crannies for scaly growth. Very carefully, she studied her eyes. The most evident change to a Mage's physiology almost always began with the irises.

Like her flushed dermis, her amber-speckled emerald irises appeared warmer. Gwen wondered if there was something particular about Draconic Essence that paralleled the effect of Druidic Essence.

Satisfied, she took a long shower.

Her Decanter of Infinite Water had been left in the habitat some time ago, providing the place with hot and cold water. Gwen towelled off, then slipped something comfy. She exited.

Outside, Jun had finished making the food. On her plate was a strange collection of multi-coloured gloop. There was a brown one. And an orange one. And a white one. A small dish held what looked like cold custard.

There was no fork and no knife. A spoon had been placed next to her plate. Just one.

Gwen looked around, bewildered by the lack of solids. What the hell was this? She checked the oven. Was there food in there waiting to be heated up? Where was the Auroch Stroganoff Shandong Chicken? Don't tell her the gloop was—

Click!

The door to the secondary bathroom opened. Jun emerged with wet hair. "Dig in if you're hungry." Jun indicated her plate, a second towel hung over one shoulder.

For a few seconds, Gwen forgot all about the un-food. Where her father had an arguably well-formed masculine frame, Jun's looked like something chiselled out of marble and put in a museum. Even with a t-shirt, his skin was stretched taut across every detail like an anatomic model of human musculature.

He had no scars, which was a shock. Then again, knowing their babulya was close at hand, it was unlikely the good son would be without cosmetic care.

SNAP!

Gwen looked down. She had snapped her wooden spoon.

"That's some impressive grip strength. Did the Draconic Essence increase your physical abilities?" Her uncle studied her. "You're growing up quite quickly."

After a half-laugh, a new spoon was proffered by her uncle, who watched Gwen with amusement.

The matter then turned to dinner. "Let's dig in!"

Her worst fears came true. Indeed, the gelatinous gruel was the military rations. It was real food, powdered, remixed with purified water, and filled with nutrition and vitality. But for a girl who had spent the last six months eating herself to death in one of the most food-obsessed cities in the world, it was torture.

After dinner, Jun placed his elbow on the table. "Wrestle me," His dark eyes gleamed. "I want to see if you've got stronger."

Gwen obliged by taking her uncle's hand. The two seesawed back and forth, with Jun gauging her strength.

"Pretty strong," he remarked. "Stronger than your average male cadet, I'd say."

"Do you think this strength is permanent?" Gwen enquired. What if she became incredibly strong? A semi-permanent Enhanced Ability could do wonders. "Will I become stronger the more Draconic Essence I consume?"

"Maybe. You might experience some physical changes, though. You did say your Cleric Aura came and went when Nephres' vitality was spent, right?"

Gwen nodded.

"Well, you have to understand the distinction between vitality and Essence," Jun said. "Vitality is the life force, an abstract concept we don't understand. Only experts like Mother have insight into how it manifests independently like a resource. On the other hand, I can tell you about Essence.”

Gwen touched the space between her collarbones, where her amulet had once sat. "Magister Wen said that my Druidic Essence is an arcane-compound spell shaped by a mythic being's will and intent."

"And she's right. Though in my experience, I favour an older, more obsolete term. It's the soul of a being."

"The soul." Gwen felt a few goosebumps engender. She thought of Mark Chandler's ghostly sister. Her insane screaming had gone on and on.

"Or something like it. As we know, Essence is neither mana, vitality or element. If so, what could it be?"

Gwen had no answer to that.

"Well, no use worrying. Just letting you know how it is. You're human. Nephres Zalaam was human. That sapient Draconian was certainly not a human being. When you take in so much alien Essence, there are bound to be some changes. I mean, didn't Almudj's Essence change your physiology?"

What if I OD on Dragon juice? Gwen wondered. Am I going to start hoarding gold and kidnapping young maidens? Having Elvia to herself in a castle wasn't too bad. She could invite her friends, build a Tower, and have a slumber party.

"As for your strength, I'd wager it's not permanent. It's a nice temporary buff, though. I am interested to see how long you can keep it. In prolonged conflicts, the ability to acquire certain traits could trivialise certain disadvantages and obstacles. Oh yes, speaking of morphic Essences, can Caliban turn into a Pangolin yet? That would be something."

Gwen called for her serpent. "Can you do it, Caliban?" Gwen focused on the iMage of the Pangolin they had seen earlier. "Do the Pangolin?"

"Shaa?" Caliban rolled onto its belly and wiggled.

"Caliban! Pangolin!" Gwen pictured the creature ponderously moving through the woods.

"Shaa? Shaa!" Caliban performed a bellyflop. The feeling she got from their empathic link was that it understood.

"Hurrrrughk!" Its carapace contracted.

Thunk!

Caliban regurgitated a jagged, egg-like shard of crystal in burnt amber. The Pangolin Core.

"Oh, very nice." Jun retrieved the core and scraped away the grey goo. After a moment, he disappointingly shook his head. "No spirit. Sorry."

"No worries," Gwen dismissed her uncle's unrealistic expectations. Most people struggled to see a core, much less a spirited core.

"Still, it is worth quite a bit." Jun hefted the crystal in his hand. "Tier V core like this, Draconic lineage—twenty-five thousand HDMs? More if there's the right buyer. It would probably make an incredible elemental bangle for the right Earthen Mage. More funds for university?"

"Surely you'll take a cut, Uncle."

"What am I going to do with crystals?" Jun scoffed. "Is this a bribe?"

"No."

"I am a government official and an officer of Internal Security." Jun tossed her the core. "It'll do me no good. For a man in my position, austerity is security. You know a girl from the House of M, right?"

Gwen nodded.

"Problem solved. Do that thing you do and shout me a few fancy dinners if you feel bad about it."

Gwen bit her lower lip thoughtfully.

Caliban wagged its tail, expecting praise for doing the “Pangolin”. Still caught up in her contemplation, its Master retrieved it bodily, then gave it a mighty squeeze. Caliban exerted a squeal of gleeful pleasure as its carapace split, oozing a joyful grey goo.

"Eeee!" Ariel raised a paw in protest; it received Gwen's apology in the form of a belly rub.

Caliban objected and hissed at Ariel. Its brother had done nothing. It deserved nothing! The Marten nipped the serpent in return.

"No!" Gwen scolded both of them. "Down. Hand. Roll over. Kisses."

She ran through the routine Chen had taught her. Nightly discipline was not to be missed, and she had already skipped a few nights thanks to their travel time. For a Creature Mage, obedience from Familiars must be active and subliminal.

Jun watched his niece toy with her creatures. "You know, it's strange that you would treat your Familiars with such familiarity. In our doctrine, most Conjurers saw Familiars as little more than phenomena manifested from the spell of the same name. Those in the PLA especially often used Familiars as spell-fodder."

"They're my babies." Gwen grinned.

Jun shrugged, then sat on the couch. Gwen soon joined him. There was no vid-cast and no fireplace, but the antics of the two Familiars provided plenty of entertainment.

Is this what a family is like? Gwen wondered. She thought of Hai, of the girls Hai dated and more often than not, left in tears. She did not want to think about her mother.

Her uncle turned to regard her. Gwen grew strangely aware that she was a young woman, a lonely one. Watching her uncle's gentleness, Gwen reminded herself that she was Hai's daughter, not his. "Are you all right, Uncle?"

"I am fine," Jun murmured, averting his gaze. The man studied the ceiling for a moment, then patted her head. "Sleep early. You've got a Queen Bee to digest. Remember, we're leaving at first light."

"Father."

The all-powerful presence of the Yinglong atop Lotus Peak shrouded the Draconic Palace with miasma and mana, illusion and obfuscation, making its location impossible to scry even with the most powerful of Divination magic.

"Speak."

"Angkar is dead, Father. His presence is gone."

An eye opened within the uncertain mist, enormous, almost the size of Ayxin's torso.

"Angkar…"

"The Earthen child, Father. He was born two decades ago, blessed by the permeation of your Essence into our land."

The Yinglong exhaled a stream of vapour.

"Father?"

The single-slit pupil within Yinglong's eye made Ayxin shiver. What emotion was engendered there? Not even after two centuries could Ayxin tell. He had arrived to serve his father at the behest of his clan, but that had been a lifetime ago. He didn't even know if his relatives still existed. Likely not, as humans were woefully short-lived. The world had changed drastically since then; the human world especially had transformed more abruptly in the last fifty years than it had in the previous five hundred.

The silence proved too oppressive for Ayxin to bear.

"He was weak, Father, but he was one of us. Another decade and he would have gained the ability to morph himself. You need to—"

The white-jade palace, an enormous cavern of granite smoothed out by the wind until it was pearlescent and achingly beautiful, shook as Ayxin's father extended a limb. An eagle's claw with serpent's scales, adorned by brilliant cobalt-emerald peacock feathers, solidified from the mist, its foreclaw as tall as Ayxin himself.

Ayxin knelt to kiss the claw, then prostrated himself. "Please admonish me for presuming your wishes, Father."

"You will assume your original form until the culprits are brought before me for questioning. One wonders what it is about the matriarchal lineage that you loathe."

An ill-humoured punishment. Ayxin tried not to let the displeasure reach his, or, as it were, her face. A true spawn of the Yinglong, Ayxin could change his gender at will. Both forms had advantages and disadvantages, though as their father preferred the male form, so did all his children. Therefore, assuming the female form showed others that Ayxin was in disfavour. It further attracted unwanted attention from the lower ranks, especially those whose intelligence was tied to their mortal lineage.

When Ayxin had been a wyrmling, he had spent decades as a female. There had been yearly contests to “woo” her, as the humans would put it; a futile endeavour which had given her a feeling of ambivalence. Dragons were wanton by nature, though Ayxin had found no one worthy to bear her brood.

"If it pleases you, Father."

Outside, Golos was waiting for her. The Wyvern was surprised to see Ayxin in her fairer humanoid form.

The Thunder Wyvern was one of the foremost powerful creatures within her father's demesne, though his intelligence made him a blunt instrument.

"You looking to lay?" Golos tilted its head, mocking her.

Ayxin's response was glacial.

"I am right here." Golos smirked with teeth. "I told you we should have stayed put. Angkar was a snivelling fool. The heavens will not rain for his passing, and the earth will not shake. He was an insect, nothing more."

Ayxin gnashed her pearly teeth. Her siblings felt nothing for each other. If so, why was she bothered? Was it because of the lesser half of her heritage? Was that why she was prone to these sentimentalities?

"We're going on patrol," Ayxin declared, annoyed. She would have to give Golos another sound thrashing if he tried anything. Her half-brother combined the worst of Draconic chimaeras: the savagery and impulse of the lascivious Thunder Wyvern and the prideful, compulsive desire of the Winged Dragon.

"I am hungry," Golos complained.

Ayxin sighed. She looked at the palace, where her father had slumbered since time immemorial. Before Ayxin had been born, her mother…

The pearlescent Dragon-kin shook her head, swallowing her all-too-human feelings.

She had wondered about Father's original mate, the first of her line. But all that was left was the dusty dowry, an emperor's tithe, and a time-faded silkscreen painting composed before the humans learned to recreate personages realistically. Ayxin's name was also unique amongst her siblings, consisting of a human syllable in place of the draconic tongue. "Ay" was Draconic for “air”. Its homophone meant "love". The second syllable, "xin", derived from the human language. Read as "prosperity", it was formed from three pictograms for "gold", though according to her father, the archaic phonic was "xùn", meaning vessel.

So am I a vessel of air? Or was her name a phonic for love and prosperity? Or maybe, she was a lover's vessel?

That possibility was too crude and morbid to entertain.

"I could do with a dozen goats," Golos said. In her brother’s mind, she spent far too much time thinking and far too little time eating and doing what came naturally to Dragons. "Maybe a carp. Think Ryxi dares to complain?"

Ignoring the Wyvern's grievances, Ayxin mounted her half-brother. She dug her claws into his flanks, striking sparks from the azure scales. Golos grunted, then lifted into the air. Once he reached a viable altitude, his wings unfurled, running their full length, bristling with bright feathers. For the spawns closest to their progenitor's bloodline, reptilian scales and bright plumage featured prominently.

Finding the humans would be difficult, assuming they had not retreated. They were diminutive beings, their presence almost negligible.

She would return to Angkar's demise and try her best to retrace any tracks.

Uncle and niece were up just before the first light. Gwen hadn't slept a wink, though she was abuzz with energy.

True to Jun's prediction, her body had begun to absorb the vitality held captive within the Queen Bee. She could feel her Druidic Essence activate mote by mote, multiplying rapidly until its primal fecundity was spent. Sweating profusely and unable to sleep, she had sat on the bed and meditated until the alarm went off.

"You're looking refreshed," Jun pointed out.

Gwen told him about her swell of Druidic Essence.

"Good," her uncle said. "We should not forsake any potential paths you could take to master your Void abilities."

Gwen thanked him. "Where do we go from here?"

"We head towards Lotus Peak. The higher we go, the more likely we will find something with Lightning as its base element. We'll camp out until we can capture something, ideally several things, then immediately retreat for the outer regions. Luck pending, we'll be here a week, maybe two."

"What if those intelligent Dragon-kin find us? Do we fight them?"

"We can negotiate or we can escape. At worst, you'll be activating your contingency beacon. Don't worry about me if that happens. Unless the Yinglong shows up, nothing will prevent me from making a bolt for it. They'll give up pursuit once we're south of the Dragon Pine."

The two emerged into the sickly daylight of the permanently overcast mountain, ready to move on.

Transmuted Flight was out of the question. It ruined the Transmutation function of their optic cloaks, and the magic left a jet stream of mana distinct to humans.

By mid-morning, Gwen and Jun penetrated the Sea of Clouds.

True to its name, the cloud sea circled the three peaks of Huangshan like a cat, enveloping the granite tops and its draconic-silhouetted pine trees like a shroud. Occasionally, the two caught glimpses of blue sky, affirming their orientation via revelatory confirmations of Lotus Peak. Most of the time, the misty haze made orientation difficult.

When the peak came into view again, Gwen felt slivers of ice stabbing her spine.

"I think the Yinglong is up there," she said to her uncle. "My Divination is acting all funny."

"We're here to avoid it," he assured her. "Don't stare at the peak too intently or anything. Let's not tempt fate."

More than once, they almost ran headfirst into the local fauna. The first time it was a harmless mountain goat. When they hid and made their observations, they could see that it had claws for feet and that its teeth were tooled to rend flesh. Not knowing if it was a part of a herd, they left it alone.

The next monster to encounter them wasn't so lucky. The duo's first victim was a bird creature, a mere head shorter than Gwen from head to tail.

While Ariel distracted it with Lightning sparks, Caliban snuck up in its spider form, made invisible by her new spell, and ambushed the creature by pinning it to a tree with its forelimbs. The bird was then pulled, kicking, flapping and screeching into the Void spider's all-consuming secondary maw.

The commotion meant that they had to relocate. Carrying Gwen on his back, Jun pushed upward for another kilometre, then turned downhill for another two before moving up again, forming a zig-zag trail as the duo made for Lotus Peak. She recovered a minute later, citing that the bird, for all its pretty plumagege, was lacklustre on all accounts.

When the sun reached its zenith, the duo arrived at the saddle of Lotus Peak.

"Let's get a lay of the land first. Pass me the map." Jun produced a Divination-enhanced compass, a device that unscrambled the influence of leyline interference. Gwen watched and listened as he marked out three locations: a Sky Lake where magical creatures frequented, a grove that looked to be a prime nesting place, and a gorge where Mermen were reported to have Lightning-based abilities.

Now that they were above an altitude where less hardy plants could grow, the pine coverage thinned, making progress easier thanks to the hard granite underfoot. Newly vitalised with the Pangolin's Essence, Gwen made easy progress, outpacing even Jun, who became out of breath after an almost sixty-degree climb that lasted forty minutes.

"Okay, take a break." Her uncle regarded her with a critical eye. She had leapt from rock to rock like a mountain goat. "I am an old man, you know. Have some respect for the elderly."

Gwen laughed, berating her uncle for his dishonesty. Jun elected to self-buff, reinforcing himself with Enhanced abilities from the Transmutation school before they continued.

The Sky Lake came into view an hour later after the two had eaten their military ration of nutritious un-food. From a distance, the "billabong", as Gwen would know it, was formed between two outcroppings that created a wide wedge. One end appeared to have been dammed by fallen debris from a shattered crag, suggesting that the lake had likely been made intentionally rather than naturally formed. Drawing on her recollection of National Geographic, Gwen knew that Huangshan lacked the altitude for glaciers, adding to her suspicion that the lake was a thing of design.

The two remained cloaked and hidden as they surveyed their new hunting ground. Beside the watering hole were various creatures, each bearing a hint of Draconic ancestry. Goats, the likeness of those Gwen had seen before, roved in herds of a dozen and more. From a further edge of the lake, predatory fauna such as Owl-faced Bears warily watched the roving herd of omnivorous goats.

The larger of the Owl-faced Bears particularly caught Jun's fancy, who noted its pelt could be converted into elemental-resistant battle armour. "The Americans prefer their Golem Plates, but us traditionalists always value mobility and flexibility," he said, the ethos of his achievements speaking for themselves.

The Owl-faced Bear they eyed was of the Asia Major species, more agile than stocky, reaching a little over the size of a full-grown man and weighing half a ton. The Draconic variant retained their hawkish facial features and cumbersome body, though their reptilian claws looked formidable.

"Look over there." Jun pointed. "Draconic macaques."

Goats and macaques! Gwen's eyes widened at the sight of what she’d first thought were a dozen harmless fur balls hanging from trees. Now that she could adequately put into perspective what she was seeing, the damn things were numberless. They were so numerous that the enormous, heaven-piercing metasequoia beside the lake was drooping with the weight of their bodies!

"I think we're in luck." Jun's voice turned hopeful, pointing to a herd of snow-white deer led by a massive stag. "Check those out."

Gwen activated her Detect Magic, distinguishing that those were indeed Lightning-based creatures. The stag looked a little like a Kirin, with jutting antlers, a draconic face, scales covering most of the body, and hooves like jewels.

"Beautiful." She felt a pang of guilt.

"Don't dwell on it," Jun said. "Just one herd of those things could take out an entire season's crops. That hoard of monkeys could probably dismantle half of Hangzhou."

"There's something in the water as well." Gwen registered the peculiar refraction. "The surface is brimming with motes of Lightning."

Just as Gwen began to doubt her eyes, one of the goats approached the tranquil edge of the lake. It watched the surface warily, then, with great deliberation and care, began to lap. The motes of Lightning instantly condensed. The goat rose into the air as though stepping on invisible stones. It had made it a dozen meters when the water's surface exploded, revealing the head of a fish-cum-serpent creature with a cumbersome, armoured head, saliently characterised by two whiskers.

A Magical Carp! One whose dumb-founded expression was almost comical.

A jolt of Tyrian purple lightning lashed the goat from the fish’s whiskers, paralysing it midair. With another powerful swish of its tail, the nine-meter creature lunged into the air as though swimming through water, took the goat in distended lips, and then dove back into the lake.

"A Dragon Carp!" Jun placed a hand on Gwen's shoulder. "That's no lake. It's a pool of condensed elemental mana. We're in luck!"

Uncle and niece spent the next hour marking down the traits and habits of fauna they could observe.

"We can start by isolating the smaller creatures. As for the larger ones, caution before action. We need to doubly affirm their numbers, intelligence, social groups, allies and enemies. One strike—that's all the chance we're getting each time. We take our prey and leave no traces. The more discreet our poaching, the more shots we can get at core harvesting. Hopefully, one of them will retain a Lightning spirit."

"All right, Uncle." Gwen turned to the map and studied it carefully. The updated map was overlayed with keys and guides, with colour-coded annotations for all the different creatures, their routes and territories.

"If you want some meat tonight, though," Jun grinned, "I doubt anyone would miss one of those goats."

Chapter twenty-one

Come A-Waltzing Matilda with Me

The Dragon Goat was lured with a can of half-opened Spam.

Uncle and niece located a sheltered space between two crags, Transmuted a thin ledge, and then set up their Portable Habitat. Once they were snug and secure, a length of Everlong String and a can of processed meat managed to isolate a wandering goat looking to forage.

When the bleating omnivore came close enough to the entrance, an ambushing Caliban in its spider guise materialised from its invisible pretence and pierced the creature with its foreclaws.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban deposited dinner at Gwen's feet, waving its scythe-like limbs.

"Thanks, Cali." Gwen patted her pet's head, careful to avoid the forelimbs.

They were outside the house proper, in the grey zone that extended twenty meters in a radius around the bungalow. The pocket dimension had been empowered to afford extra storage, though anything outside the dwelling was stowed at the owner's risk.

"I am going to show you how to dress your kill." Jun instructed Caliban to hang up the goat. "But first…" He held out a bowl and collected the blood.

"A pint of the fabled heart-blood of a Draconic-something. It'll be fortifying. Go on."

Gwen stared at the bloody gloop in horror. "I'll pass."

Jun wagged a finger at her picky eating. "You down a full-sized Healer kicking and screaming, and now you're squeamish about drinking some blood? Just think of it as medicine."

Gwen had no retorts. She took the bowl, held her nose, and then slammed the shot like a Bloody Mary. To her surprise, it did not taste too disagreeable. If anything, it had a hint of oxidising iron in an old factory. The flavour was a strange synaesthesia, nostalgic too; the blood's olfactory stimulus reminded her of the abandoned St James Station in Sydney, with its rusted rails.

As with the Queen Bee, Gwen soon felt a heat roaring in her torso. Hopefully, it was the fire of vitality and not the water of dysentery.

"We'll have as many pints as it takes for the diminishing return to hit." Jun nodded happily, drinking a bowl himself. "Oof! That's the stuff."

After a few more bowls, they got down to work.

"All right, Caliban, take the hind legs. Yep. Just like that. Now spread them. Good. Forelegs too. Very good. Okay, Gwen, you're up."

As a born and bred city girl, Gwen wasn't entirely sure what dressing an animal involved, though she could guess it didn't include bowties.

By then, the Dragon Goat was mercifully deceased. Caliban held it like a rack, rearing on its hind legs by locking its chitin-plated joints. The carcass was thus splayed like a cheerleader jumping in mid-air, in the likeness of "Gimme an X!"

Jun passed Gwen a bowie-knife. "Cut here and here."

Gwen sawed away, striking sparks.

Jun raised an eyebrow. "Tough customer. All right, draw me a mote of Void onto your fingertips."

Gwen concentrated for a second, then carefully raised a stark-white finger with a dash of darkness at its extremity.

"Try again."

She did as she was told, with Jun giving the instructions slowly and meticulously. Where her fingers touched, the skin and flesh quickly fell apart. The unconventional use of her element gave Gwen an idea, though the execution of it was a little terrifying to entertain.

"Right. So the belly and bowel contents are high in contaminants and must be removed promptly to avoid contaminating the flesh. The body's organs need to be removed as soon as possible. Yes, that means everything from the throat to the anus."

Gwen held back her military rations as bundles of stuff emerged, splattering the ground with obscene noises.

"You see that? That's a scent gland. Mature male goats and deer have pungent scent glands. Do you see those? Balls. You don't think an animal of this size would have balls bigger than its brains, no? That tells you a lot about these Dragon Goats, ha-ha."

Her uncle's jocular manner made her both pale-faced from the gore and blushing from the brusqueness. Indeed, the Dragon Goat's member was like a bloody eel.

Before Gwen could riposte her uncle's ill humour, Ariel dashed from the porch, snatched up the foot-long wang, and then fled.

"Ariel!" Gwen felt a rush of blood reddening her face. She willed a jolt of Conjuration mana into compelling Ariel's obedience. "For fuck's sake!"

"Ha-ha! It looks like your mongoose has a craving for snakes!”

"Arrrgh! Ariel!"

Her uncle took over sentry duty, giving Gwen the opportunity for a good night's sleep. As Caliban was an existential insomniac, she instructed the creature to keep Jun company.

She found that whenever Jun patted the Void serpent, she could feel a phantom sensation upon her astral body. The strangeness kept her from sleeping, like a caress in her bones that she couldn't scratch, subtle but infinitely distracting.

When morning finally came, she felt more tired than ever, while Jun appeared fully refreshed.

"Blood not agreeing with you? I heard it could act like caffeine for some people."

"Something like that." Gwen had to rinse and gargle multiple times; her morning breath might have been because of the blood, but more likely, her restlessness was to blame.

When the two re-emerged, the rising sun had cast a deep shadow across the valley, punctuated by geometric rays of burnishing coral that lit the peaks with fiery contours. Gwen found the splendour breathtaking until the cloud banks rolled in, making the majestic surreal. The valley's temperature, especially before it could receive the sun's consecration, was single digits at best. Cooling currents of elemental air and water flowed down the mountain, epic streams of lazy mana, pooling and congealing, swirling in eddies and streams until they reached the bottom, collecting in the Sky Lake.

"Magnificent." Gwen had seen Life of Pi in IMAX, but the view exceeded even that.

"Yeah." Her uncle stood beside her, happy and refreshed. "All right. Let's buff up. Fresh crystals for all your gear."

As they marked a perimeter for their hunt, the duo placed Teleportation beacons here and there for insurance.

"I suggest we proceed opportunistically," Jun said, satisfied that they had several routes of escape planned. "The goats and the small fauna will help, accumulatively at least. A little Draconic Essence here and there. Even a mosquito has meat if you're eager enough. Wen said there should be diminishing returns on your Consume. I say let's find out its limits."

The duo's ultimate target was the deer herd.

As expected, the Thunder Deers were guarded by a massive buck the size of a people-mover van. In addition to emitting AOE Lightning, it made a cacophony when charging, creating a thunderclap on impact. Gwen had witnessed one such attack when a civet-like predator tried to have a go at a fawn. The resultant sound from the stag had been like rolling thunder, echoing from cliff to cliff, refracting from the surface of the Sky Lake.

Their secondary target was the Dragon Carp—a voracious, vicious and mindless species willing to eat anything. Watching the dumb fish, Jun suggested that they could likely fish one by using Ariel as bait.

"EEEEeee?" Ariel presented itself eagerly, happy to serve. Her innocent pet had eaten half of the goat member, forever losing its innocence. When she made it vomit, the bitten parts were gone as though atomised.

"Both of your Familiars are strange, to say the least," he noted. "Caliban's on a whole other level, of course. Ariel is likewise unusually salient or I should say, 'invested' within the Material Realm. It has taste, it can feel, it knows pain."

"Is that weird?"

"I am not a Master Conjurer, so I can't offer any educated advice." Jun shrugged. "But let me remind you that you are running a Signature Conjure Familiar unique to Kilroy."

Jun's reminder made Gwen think of her deceased Master, engendering a tightness in her chest. She thought of the last time she had seen him, asleep beneath Sufina's Lifetree, presided over by the expressionless face of his eternal guardian, Master and Familiar, silent in the cold dark grot.

Was her Conjure Familiar yet another legacy from her Master? Her Master had drawn the Summoning Circle himself, had he not? Her opa had likewise said the duo spared no expense. There was even a mention of Griffin blood, powdered Mithril…

Now that Gwen had received a practical education, the remembrance astounded her. Griffin blood? Where did one acquire Royal Egyptian Griffin blood in Australia? Powdered Mithril? That stuff was from the demi-human Dwarves, from the depth of the Glocknergruppe range, east of Brenner Pass.

And me? She had been just a fledgling Conjurer.

Now that she was educated, those medium-tier Warding Glyphs looked suspiciously like Conjuration Glyphs. According to the instructions given by Magister Birch, the ones in her memory matched that of a Twin-Radii Octogramic Summoning Circle.

An upper-tier circle formula used for a tier I Conjuration spell? Nothing made sense.

"Hey, focus." Her uncle nudged her. They were lurking not far from the edge of the lake, two mucky cats eyeing the fish in the pond. "So, Ariel lures the carp when it clears the water. We'll both Alpha-Strike. I'll go for the limbs and fins, you go for the tail. We only need the head and torso. Caliban will collect, and then we'll make for Safe Point Alpha. We'll extract to Delta or Epsilon if anything goes amiss to regroup and assess."

"Yessir." Gwen performed a salute. She ran the map locations through her head again, then commanded Ariel to go and drink.

They had earlier discovered that allowing her Lightning Familiar to bathe in the hyper-condensed mana increased its constitution little by little. Were it not for the fact that the waters were filled with tier V Ariel-eating Carp, Gwen would have happily allowed the little furball to soak.

After a minute of Ariel's full monty bath show, the first fish happened upon them.

The early carp gets the weasel!

With a burst of Elemental Air, Water and Lightning, the glassy-eyed carp emerged in its six-meter glory. The front of its body resembled a koi, while the rest resembled a predatory Arowana crossed over with a sea snake.

"Elemental Sphere!"

"Ashen Spear!” Her uncle followed.

Jun's spell struck first, executed with both finesse and precision, severing the creature's tendrils, which it used for elemental attacks. The main body proved far too resistant even for Jun's penetrative potential, disabling only one of its four frontal fins.

More importantly, Jun's Negative Energy Drain filled the struggling fish with Ashen thoughts of despair and apathy.

Whoomp!

Gwen's Void-empowered orb imploded upon the petrified carp, striking its lower torso, first shrinking, then expanding into a two-meter sphere before erupting again as a concentric ring of necrotic ink, severing the creature in twain.

As the carp's initial momentum brought it forward, Caliban emerged, first hooking into the front half of the still writhing Dragon Carp, then fleeing for Safe Point Alpha.

"Gwen, you're up."

Jun had informed her that it was best they save his translocation device for emergencies, meaning that it fell upon Gwen to act as their Dimension Door to and from the sheltering recess of the twisting pine grove.

Once inside, her uncle checked the surroundings for danger. Ariel aided the Ash Mage by sniffing out potential adversaries while Caliban laid out their quarry.

The two Mages inspected their still-living prey. To their relief, the Dragon Carp was a creature of Lightning and Air. Its eyes were glazed over, two giant yellow spheres that reflected the faces of its assailants. It opened and closed its mouth like a landed fish even though it could breathe the air as easily as it did the Elemental Water of Sky Lake.

From lake to plate, the poachers had a window of several minutes. These Magical Carp were hardy creatures. Without Jun, Gwen would have struggled to keep her prey from fleeing into the depths. Even with two-thirds of its body missing, its Draconic constitution could likely keep it alive, mayhap even regrow its lost lower half.

"Consume!"

A fraction of the creature's elusive Essence became absorbed by Jun's amulet, the other portion by Caliban.

Gwen sat crossed-legged on the pine-needle-strewn floor, anticipating the rush. The ecstasy arrived a minute later, filling her with supernatural vitality, hitting four or five on the Nephrism index.

As before, the pair cleaned up their murder scene, then waited. When no pursuers appeared, they snagged a few Draconic goats, whose attraction to small furry animals scurrying for cover far exceeded their capacity to process caution and safety in numbers.

While they waited for the Thunder Deer herd, the pair continued their Ariel Dragon-noodling. There were a few close calls when the Marten was nearly swallowed, but Gwen found that she could unsummon her familiar, even if it had entered the gullet of a four-hundred-kilogram carp. Any injuries Ariel sustained quickly recovered once her pet returned to the pocket dimension of her spell.

The second day thus came to an end, three carps and a dozen goats stuffed into the Lurker in the Dark's limitless gullet without the slim creature showing so much as a bulge.

Caliban coughed up three fist-sized cores of various clarity. The carps’ cores were without hosts, but at least they were Lightning. On the other hand, the goats’ were a mixture of primary elements that made them seldom more useful than low to mid-level materials.

"Feed them to Ariel?" Jun suggested. "How desperate are you for crystals?"

"Not overly much," Gwen handed the loot to her pet. "I am flexible."

"Wait, don't feed Ariel now. What if it goes to sleep? You said that's what happened last time."

"Oh yes, of course." Ariel had been out of action for almost a week after the eland core. She needed her Marten with her just then. Any potential boosts for her Familiar would have to wait,

"The Dragon Carps are dumber than I anticipated," Jun said once the duo retreated into their den. "You know what they remind me of?"

"Pets?" Gwen thought of the koi she had seen in Qīn's pond.

"Cattle." Jun dug his chopsticks into a leg of roasted Dragon Goat. Another reason for dressing the animal was to release the leftover Essence and residue mana so that mundane heat could be used to cook it. In high-class restaurants, magically-trained chefs prepared chomps of vitality-filled Auroch hinds with arcane fire in enchanted kitchens. There were rarer, higher-class restaurants where actual Mage chefs prepared rare and exotic magical creatures, crafting alchemical cuisine with magical properties.

"They milk the carp?" Gwen tried her best to imagine how such a thing was possible. Did reptile fish even produce milk? Maybe they excreted gloop, one which could be synthesised into something edible.

"For meat," Jun said, clearly bemused and amused. "Did you notice how they kept to the Sky Lake even though they could swim through the air however they pleased? Maybe it's a pen to fatten them up."

"Hmm…" Gwen knew all about the dangers of stealing livestock. The greatest Australian folk song of all time was about an old swagman thrifting an escaped jumbuck until the troopers chased the poor bastard into a billabong, where he joined the fishes. Even now, they say one may hear the winds singing "Waltzing Matilda". As for why the story made a popular children's limerick, it spoke volumes for the morbidity of Australian bush humour. "Should we relocate?"

"No, not at night." Jun carved out another generous portion for himself. "We'll check on the Thunder Stag and its herd again tomorrow. Whether it's present or otherwise, we need to move out."

With dinner done, Gwen washed up. From the kitchen sink, she watched Jun undergo the rite of drawing Essence from his Kirin Stone. Her uncle wasn't even bothering to hide his Necromancy now. He gratuitously masticated, for the lack of a better arcane metaphor, the Essences captured in the heirloom at every opportunity, keeping himself in peak condition.

Thinking of Jun's proposal, Gwen felt full of disquiet. How long could they remain hidden, poaching the magical beasts?

Now that they were in the thick of it, her optimism that a Lightning Spirit presented itself miraculously seemed ever more dubious. What was the tipping point where risk outweighed the reward? She was too inexperienced to know. Nonetheless, she trusted Jun absolutely to make the right decision, regardless of the tinnitus buzz pinging her Divination Sigil, whispering that all of this was hubris and folly.

"Ryxi, it's not Golos." Ayxin halted her two half-siblings by placing her body between them. "He took one carp. I was there when he caught it."

Ryxi snarled, his serpentine form sleek and slender as he coiled and uncoiled with barely contained rage, his ivory scales glimmering. "Those were meant for Father. They were a gift!"

Unlike his siblings, Ryxi was the descendant of the White Serpent, one of the original residents of the Three Heavenly Peaks. Unlike the Yinglong, the spirit serpent lacked the Draconic vitality to survive past its second millennium, choosing instead to spend its final few centuries hibernating until its children could find something to prolong its life. Celestial Peak was where it made its home, though it was more accurate to say that the peak was its form, since the great serpent slumbered in the guise of a skyward block of pure white granite. Over the years, Dragon Pine and other flora had taken up residence on its body until it resembled a part of the original landscape.

Of all their siblings, Ryxi was the oldest, though not the most powerful. Ruxin was the most powerful, though the Thunder Dragon rarely came home, preferring to wander abroad and consort with their oceanic cousins, the Hailong. Ryxi took after his mother, possessing a scholarly soul that had found joy in rearing rare butterflies for half a century.

Both brothers knew that Ayxin was the favourite—she had the most clout when any issue was presented to Father, and therefore it wasn't worth it to anger her.

"I am missing five Dragon Carp," Ryxi snapped. "Goats too. Nothing else within Father's demesne has an appetite like this greedy, insatiable lizard."

"There should be other tracks."

"What tracks? The only tracks I could find was this fat lizard trailing carp-scales, blood and guts all over my territory."

Golos's temper flared. "I don't like your tone, brother. When was the last time you shed your skin? I hope it won't take another century for your scales to grow back," the Wyvern threatened his sibling smugly. Their youngest knew the spineless Ryxi couldn't stand up to him, not before and certainly not now. To Golos, it was just a carp. Their father was barely awake these days. When would he even have the time to eat?

"Shut up, both of you!" Ayxin spat, her body sparked with annoyance. "We have an intruder in the realm. I believe they took Angkar."

"Who? The earthen whelp? He's useless." Ryxi seemed confused about what possible use anyone could have for something as diluted and un-Dragon-like as Angkar. Hundreds, if not a thousand, beings like Angkar were in the lower reaches. True spawn like Ayxin wouldn't even consider them Father's spawn, for they were merely mundane magical creatures who had taken up aspects of their father's immortal Essence as his slumbering spirit permeated the mountain. “Worth less than my precious silk worms. If they died, what would you wear, sister?”

“Maybe one of the others ate him?" Ryxi shrugged. “Here, the list of culprits could go on virtually forever. Recall that Angkar's primary defence was to become a tasty, crunchy ball. Golos could arguably swallow Angkar whole. Maybe he did…”

"No, this is different." Ayxin put a finger to her lips, making the others stare. "It's the intruders, I know it. They have no scent and leave virtually no tracks. All I found was Elemental Ash and something else."

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Ayxin couldn't put it into words. It was truer to say that she detected an absence. However, Angkar had ceased to exist. Where his scent had been everywhere at first, it had suddenly disappeared as though their sibling had evaporated. "Look, forget about Golos. Keep an eye on your flock. Stop playing around with your insects and miniature trees and stay near Sky Lake. Tell me as soon as you find something. Hold them down until we can arrive."

The three Dragon-kin were perched, coiled and seated on a rocky crag overlooking Sky Lake below. The moon hung high in the sky, though only a little pierced the thick banks of Elemental Air circulating to and fro from one peak to another.

"Fine," Ryxi muttered, his face unhappy with the unsatisfying outcome. "I shall be as watchful as my originator, a veritable stone sentinel."

"We're in luck!" Jun hollered.

After more than two days at Sky Lake, the Thunder Stag and its herd finally returned. They were there as soon as uncle and niece had emerged from the habitat, each animal carefully taking turns drinking from the liquefied Elemental Air of the lake.

The buck, a big brute well over four meters and zinging with excess motes of Lightning, stood guard while the females drank one after another, guiding their fawns to sup at the condensed mana.

"We'll have to take down the buck first," Jun said. "As for the rest, how ambitious do you feel?"

"Very."

"Heh, all right. That means we'll try to corner the whole pack—the females, fawns and all."

Gwen fought down the thought that she was mass-murdering innocent beasts. Though the Thunder Deer had Draconic facial features, they remained gentle creatures with a clear emphasis on herds and family. The old Gwen of Sydney would have surely revolted at so much slaughter.

The current Gwen was hungry in more ways than one. "All right, what's the play?"

"Distract with Ariel, alpha strike the buck, disable, not kill, until you can Consume. I'll construct a Blade Barrier to the left and right in a triangular arc, pinning them against the water. Assuming they can't fly, they should be trapped. Start Consuming as soon as it is safe to do so. Once barriers are up, I'll help you with the rest."

"Are we giving up being discreet?"

Jun nodded. "Calculated risk. The stags are too skittish to hunt one by one. Here is an opportunity, Gwen. A docile, high-tier, Elemental Spirit. It's too good a chance to pass up. There are potentially two dozen cores here."

"No risk, no gain," Gwen said.

"That's right. Keep an eye out. Remember, stick close if we run into the demi-humans from last time. Extraction via point beta to Epsilon."

"All right, Uncle." Gwen stilled her guilty heart.

Indeed, the prospect of a high-tier spirit drowned her protest. By God! If she could get her Affinity to eight, her spell volume and damage would be immeasurable! For the IIUC, she could keep casting without pause until the opposing Abjurer was OOM, then continue unabated until victory was all but certain.

She thought about Lulan's speciality, that spell-flurry of ceaseless strikes. If she could perform the same with Lightning or Void, they could make a ridiculous range-melee combination.

Gwen felt shivers up her spine. All she could do was ask nature to forgive her transgression. I am sorry, deer fawns. To doe, or not to doe, there was no question.

It was time to crash the stag's party.

Chapter twenty-two

Her Beauty and Her Terror

Ariel again played the Judas Goat, making itself visible as it sashayed toward the Sky Lake’s edge to partake in nature’s bounty.

Initially, the Thunder Stag regarded the unexpected intruder with wariness. By instinct, its caution was quickly dispelled by curiosity as it noted an ancient, emerald presence, more alluring than anything the stag had ever encountered in its half-century of existence.

The source of the glow was a viridescent light held in the Marten creature's mouth-pouch.

The stag ventured closer, followed by a few braver females, licking their Draconic snouts. Others soon followed, perceiving that it was safe when the alpha began sniffing the minuscule predator.

Soon, the herd formed a small semicircle around the Marten.

"Hrrmph!" The stag nudged Ariel, demanding that it give up whatever prize it held, greedy for the delicious fecundity withheld by the Marten.

Bullied and harassed, Ariel dropped the crystal at the buck's feet. The Marten was gone in the next second, remembered only by a streak of silver.

"Neerrrgh?" The stag made a sound of curiosity.

The crystal cracked.

BUNG!

Though Thunder Deer were no strangers to a good racket, the Flashbang that struck the herd seared their eyeballs and jarred their brains. The resultant din echoed far and wide across the misty sound, sending the lake's surface to churn.

"NEERRRRGH!" The stag panicked, swinging its mighty sixteen-pointers to and fro, knocking aside doe and fawn in its frenzy. Its eyes became dark, its ears rang with tinnitus. All it could smell was fear, the scent of blind terror from its herd, with the females shitting and pissing as they hysterically scattered.

Whirp! Whirp! Whirp! Whirp! Whirp!

There was a strange metallic vibration in the air, so loud as to be audible even to the stag's impaired sensory organ. It inhaled the redolence of blood, tasting the iron in the air. A female had died! Then another! And another!

"EEEAARMF!" the Thunder Stag Buck roared, gathering lightning into electrified horns. It would envelop its entire surrounding with a lightning field, bypassing its herd and injuring its enemies.

"Conjure Elemental Void Swarm!" A series of chants concluded somewhere near it.

Vertigo overwhelmed the herd, sending the weaker creatures tumbling to their knees. The stronger ones buckled and bolted, only to run into a wall of scything blades formed from scalding ash, severing limbs and heads. Those that survived the dismembering sank limply onto the grassy knoll, choosing instead to bleed out, losing the will to flee.

“Shaa-shaa-shaa.”

The buck was cunning enough to wait until the sound of crawling intruders could be palpably felt within the perimeter of its electro-sensitive fur. As the charge in its horns peaked, it unleashed a semi-dome blast of lightning and thunder, forming a circumference of crisscrossing electricity twenty meters across and expanding rapidly.

With its reserves spent, the stag snorted the scent of charred grass, ionised air, and lingering ozone. "Neerrrgh!" It warned its females not to stray too far.

“Shaa-shaa-shaa. Shaa-shaa-shaa. Shaa-shaa-shaa.”

The strange noise came on again. The stag circulated a jolt of lightning through its body, fortifying its fur with an electrified charge capable of instantly killing lesser creatures.

All around it, the insane bleats and neighs of its females tempted the stag to flee. Within its hormone-induced brain, self-preservation and herd instinct fought for dominance.

Its vision returned as its wounds healed.

The buck raised its head proudly, its electrified irises contracting, ready to ignite the first enemy it spotted.

The first and last thing it saw was two tentacles, one red and the other blue, a fraction of a second before their lamprey's lips, lined with thousands of grinding teeth, kissed its eyeballs.

"SHAA-SHAA!"

A three-metre Death Gila brought the stunned stag to its knees, its jaws distended impossibly, ready for the feast to come.

Caliban needed no coaxing from Gwen to execute the dazed stag with two direct strikes to the eyes, instantly causing its body to go limp.

When her Void Familiar had been caught in the Lighting AOE, Gwen had felt her heart skip. Even in its thick-skinned Gila form, the energy had been enough to de-glove Caliban from faceless mien to bladed digit, stripping away its obsidian toad skin to reveal pulsating purple flesh beneath. Had Caliban been a creature with actual biology, it would have died from the shock.

Chock-full of usurped vitality, Caliban recovered in the next instant, drawing upon its stores to replenish its physical presence within the material realm. Gwen gave up her excess without reserve, willing her creature to gorge itself.

Meanwhile, her previously repelled Void Swarm again manifested, fuelled by carp and goat. Her error had been a product of inexperience; she couldn't hold onto the final incantation and had blown the spell's payload too soon.

As for her long-anticipated Void Elementals, courtesy of Magister Wen's extensive research on her Master's signature incantations, the result had proved spectacular and terrifying. She had presumed scarabs or even long-limbed netherworld aberrations, but she got lampreys—slick, slithering lampreys—roving as an oily, oozing mess of hungry mouths, moving en masse.

Thousands of lampreys swarmed over one another in an eager bid to reach the feast before them. What was worse was that, like Caliban's serpent form, the things had no eyes.

Worse still, Gwen had seen the spectacle before. Though she had no dark egg to house her swarm like Elizabeth Sobel, her inadvertently identical manifestation hinted at their undeniable link.

"Mao, that's a terrifying sight!" Her uncle also felt the Void's impact, growing paler as he maintained both Bladed Barriers. "At this rate, we're definitely going to have company. Get Consuming!"

Gwen needed no encouragement from her uncle. Caliban was already at work. It sucked in the four-meter stag with a single gulp before turning upon the hapless females.

Meanwhile, her swarm had reached the weakened herd members too hurt or injured to thrash and kick. The lampreys slithered up the bloodstained coats of horrified deer as they bleated in hysteria, lapping up the scarlet dew. Except for those made insensible by Jun's Ash, the rest began an insane shriek that echoed around the valley, filling Gwen's ears with madcap, child-like wailing.

Gods! She was going to be sick! Gwen willed herself to steel her proverbial spine. I can't relent now! The slaughter must continue. She was doing this for a Lightning Spirit. To stop would be an insult to her uncle's endeavour.

She scanned the horizon. Gwen knew it wouldn’t take long for reinforcements to arrive. That Druidic Essence empowered Flashbang, the Thunder Stag’s AOE, the slaughter within which they were now engaged; each one was enough to draw the Yinglong’s ire.

“MEeaaaaaah!—Meeeeeh!—EEeeaa—Baaeeah!”

"SHAA!"

Unlike Caliban's Master and her uncle, her pet had no qualms. Young and old, large and small, wounded and maimed, the Void worm had never known a more celebrated orchestra in all its life. The feast was endless. It leapt from creature to creature, Consuming one after another, shrugging off Lightning strikes that would strip off its hide, shatter its carapace or displace its limbs.

Somewhere, a fawn tried to hide by digging into the carcass of its mother.

Caliban cared not. The more it fed, the haler it became.

By its third doe, the Void Swarm had joined the slaughter; prey ceased struggling altogether as a swarm of dark and unspeakable things smothered their bodies and delved into every orifice, natural or otherwise.

"Careful." Jun hid behind Gwen, safe from her hungry, hungry lampreys. "Good god, that is a lot of Essences. My Kirin Stone is hot with absorption. Another minute, then we DD. Exfil to designation beta."

"The Cores…" Gwen said.

"Don't be greedy," Jun said. "Caliban already has the buck stowed inside and a dozen others. Besides, you'll be out like a candle."

It was true. Gwen had been so concerned that she had neglected that she wasn't consuming one or two of these things but dozens.

"Caliban, we're leaving." She drew up her next spell effortlessly. "Dimension Door!"

She left the swarm manifested as they made their escape, taking as much of the biomass into her as she could. Like Caliban, each lamprey was returning to her tiny slivers of health; en masse, they added up.

Like the wind, the pair blasted through the cloud forest on her Dimension Doors, moving faster than she had ever accomplished in all her career as a Mage.

Two kilometres into the mist-shrouded pine forest, Caliban delivered its payload.

"Uncle! Help!" Gwen let loose a cry more embarrassing than anticipated, stifled by forcibly clenching her jaws. She had commanded it to hold on, but there was a limit to her Familiar's proverbial bladder.

Jun caught her as she doubled over. Her breath was coming in pants; her eyes rolling back into her skull. Gwen hid her face against Jun's chest. The alternative was too upsetting.

A quick manipulation of the Portable Habitat opened up its near-invisible entrance, allowing Gwen to slip through without a sound.

Ryxi had never been gladder that he wasn't the combative sort of Dragon-kin.

The lineage of the White Snake were intellectuals of Elemental Air. They were scholarly beings, creative and interested in the world. When met with an interesting stimulus, their first instinct was to study the thing, a world's difference from, say, its Thunder Wyvern half-brother, whose preference would be "Can I eat it?" followed by "What if I mated it?" When one failed, Golos chose destruction.

When the culprits had appeared, he had been meditating in the Sky Lake, well-covered by the clouds.

A first, Ryxi felt cheated. If he had caught Golos bloody-clawed and gore-toothed, there would have been a case to make in front of Father.

His first instinct was how to toy with the two humans. After all, Ryxi was a master of mirage and illusion, and these were puny mortal beings. He watched with great interest as the creatures ambushed his animals, waiting for them to expend their mana before he could strike.

Ryxi relished his herd; he often milled their horns to make alchemical medicine for himself, crafting pills for his father and mother. He disliked the buck; Ryxi had a strange suspicion that the boisterous brute might be a spawn of Golos.

One of the Mages passed a viridescent crystal to its pet, a ferret.

The gem was of great interest to Ryxi because there was a familiar but also alien energy within it. He watched it being delivered to the stag.

BUNG!

An incapacitation spell! How wonderful!

His scholarly curiosity lasted until the larger human manifested a dark fire, heat without matter, an all-consuming force that sapped all life.

"Heavenly Father above!" Isn't that the power of the Drought Goddess? Ryxi would have opened his eyes wider were they not set into his skull by bone plates. A second barrier went up and ashen blades reeking of desolation and destruction cornered his herd.

Ryxi shook head to tail, all fancy of fighting fleeing from his mind. It was a cowardly thing to do, but he wasn't about to go tail-to-toe with a descendant of the thrice-damned Drought Goddess. His ancestors, the original occupants of the Three Peaks, had learned that the hard way. Now only his mother remained.

Just as the White Serpent thought things couldn’t get worse and he should probably report to Ayxin, he felt an aversion strong enough to turn his gullet.

A horrid beast was ravaging his stag! It was eating his deer alive! Yinglong above, he saw it penetrate the buck's skull with… tentacles? WHY IS THERE A DEATH GILA? ARE THOSE NOT FROM THE FAR PLANES?

Ryxi had had no idea his race—the divine White Cloud—could regurgitate into their mouth without prior abdominal contractions. Now he knew. He had inhabited this body for almost five centuries and was still learning new things.

Then a swarm of dark things began to consume everything in sight. The White Serpent held the goat carcass in his mouth, afraid to provoke the condensed mixture of Air and Water that made up the Sky Lake.

"Caliban, we're leaving."

Thank the Dragon-father! Ryxi thought. He waited another minute to ensure the poachers didn't double back to catch a delicious White Serpent guiltily slinking away.

Ryxi knew he had to find his half-siblings as soon as possible. If the Mages were to escape the mountain range, he would lose track of their whereabouts.

The serpent lifted effortlessly into the air before speeding toward Ayxin's territory, adjacent to their father's White jade Palace.

The Drought Goddess had returned! Ryxi baulked. And her attendant controlled a Death Gila!

Gwen dreamt of a white jade palace. A palace sculpted from granite, shaped by wind and will until it was perfect.

Nine mystical thresholds led from the saddle to the mount's zenith, for thereupon Lotus Peak perched the White Jade Hall, within which sat the Nephrite Throne.

Within its vaulted hall, a mighty presence slept, slumbering the years away, bathing in a concourse crisscrossing with Elemental Air, Water and Positive Energy. There, amongst the throne room pillared in white, in the midst of which sat an enormous lotus, she saw Master and mountain both bathed in incandescent light.

The peculiar synaesthesia induced a wave of déjà vu. There had been a time when she, too, had experienced the intimacy of land beneath one's feet, entwined body and soul. The old Dreamer, Goolagong, had slapped her chest, thighs and buttocks with earthen handprints, dabbed her forehead with ochre and red earth and painted her abdomen.

"Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!" uttered old Goolagong, slapping her thighs.

Gwen had slapped her belly, following awkwardly.

The landscape beneath her feet shifted.

As in a lucid dream, she travelled where she wished. Red earth, blue skies. Short, stunted trees sighed at waterless creeks. A flat and vast expanse now stretched before her, extending from nowhere to infinity, its distance maddening.

Here was the Dreamtime, conceiving a continent rich and untouched.

Gwen blinked; she was back in Huangshan again, her face wet with dew as she stood upon a Dragon Pine, watching the cloudscape unfold as a silk-screen painting.

The mountain called to her. It compelled her. She had taken so much of it inside her already. Why not join it?

She could be the land, as unmoving as the three Heavenly Peaks. She could be the air itself, wandering and weightless. She could bathe in the light of the risen sun. She could shower in the rain cascading from the crags, awash with white water; she could delve into depthless gorges below.

But the vastness frightened her and threatened to overwhelm her, so she dreamed of more familiar places.

Within herself, Gwen saw the intimate glow of Almudj's Essence, forming the contour of a multi-hued serpent coiled and slumbering.

The outward world pressed in. Almudj's will rolled outwards like a tide.

Her world folded inwards, pulsing like a heartbeat. She was straddling two worlds, disorientated to the extreme.

Like a retreating tide, the two visions flowed into each other; the ebb and flow of life and land, living in one another, falling apart, coming together. She felt homesick for the native flame trees, the blood gum, the iron-oxide earth.

She saw a Dragon Pine wilt, fighting the dry, foreign wind. She saw, from the misty peaks awash with rain, bushfires of the black north choking the blue sky, she saw a harsh horizon rimmed with red drought. How could a tree from a temperate land withstand such a thing? Gradually, the arched, gnarly pine growing from a granite crag withered. In the next moment, it was abloom with flaming galahs, fuming with wild wings!

The pine needles, the wet squelch of fecund southern soil, were overpowered by the scent of blooming dogwood under the stark moon, sweet from the hint of thunderstorms crackling over cane fields.

From a red-stone throne in a vast desert, she saw the ponderous form of Almudj staring out, its obsidian orbs iridescent amidst the scintillating colour of its rainbow scales.

From the triple-silhouette of an eastern mountain, she saw the shape of a winged Dragon, its wingspan stretching from peak to peak.

Gwen gasped, her breath catching in her chest; the pressure from the two beings was immense.

A thick-fingered pair of dark-skinned hands took her by the wrist.

"Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!" came the voice of old Goolagong, slapping her thighs. "Come, girl. The corroboree is this way!"

"Almudj!

The rainbow snake
see it take wing
the wind
and water fills the rivers and gullies
and billabongs!

"Migloo girl! Did you know that Almudj dislikes strangers?"

Gwen tried to speak, but she was in the grip of a power far greater.

"Yes." old Goolagong pointed at the winged Dragon haughtily. "Almudj will attack strangers. It is known."

Gwen's fist smacked into Jun’s solid chest.

"Ooomph! Careful now." Jun's face hovered over his niece, wincing. "Are you all right?"

Dazed and nodding, the girl straightened her camisole and then pulled her legs closer to her body. Her eyes swiftly studied the room before returning to his face.

"I am okay now, Uncle Jun." She saw him nursing his ribs. "Sorry."

Jun retreated, wondering if he should imbibe a healing potion. His ribs felt like someone had rammed them with a small truck.

When he had heard the commotion, he’d burst into the thankfully unlocked bedroom to find her writhing on the bed, grinding her teeth with a dangerous intensity. Failing to wake her even with a slap, Jun had run to the kitchen, fetched a wooden spoon, and shoved it into her mouth. Bodily wounds could be healed, but a severed tongue could spell the end of their poaching adventure.

Still, the girl was unnaturally strong! Too strong, in his expert opinion. She could rival a buffed Transmuter! Was the Draconic Essence to blame? There was plenty of it in his amulet, but the girl's Consume had never interacted with human nor demi-human Essence before, such as those of the bipedal Gila or the Merfolk.

Unsure of how to proceed, he’d kept her grappling before resorting to more drastic measures, like flushing her body with his Ashen mana. It would have alleviated her struggle, but they had neither access to a medical facility nor a healer who could offset the drain. It would be disastrous if he’d accidentally triggered her priceless Contingency Ring.

What would Magus Shultz think if Gwen disappeared and reappeared in the Pudong Tower, raving mad, frothing at the lips?

Perhaps more terrifyingly, his mother's wrath would be unthinkable! Klavdiya had been against the trip herself, preferring Gwen to travel with her peers to well-explored Dungeons.

Thankfully, the girl had recovered. Unthankfully, she had then punched him.

“Sorry,” she said, her expression full of mortification.

He told her not to worry.

Perhaps it was best he injected the Healing potion out of sight.

“I’ll be in the kitchen. Come out and explain what’s happening to you, if you can. If you can’t, we’re going home. I’ll have breakfast ready.”

He felt his terms were a little harsh, but there were no maybes when a Yinglong hung over their heads. If Gwen suffered an episode while they were hunting, the best he could do was trigger her ring and run for the woods.

In silence, he made breakfast: nutritious ration soup and toast with milk and Wildland honey.

His niece emerged ten minutes later, hair slicked back in a ponytail and padded up in her sneak suit. She seemed taller, or was it her presence that had changed?

“Uncle.” Gwen turned to face him seriously, ready to explain.

Jun took a sip of his military coffee. The acrid taste must have been modelled on the philosophy that what couldn’t kill you woke you up. “I am listening.”

His niece took a deep breath before opening her hands, cupping the familiar glow of her Druidic Essence.

Jun leaned toward the brimming liquid. It was different somehow. The energy felt alive, wilful, possessed by a commanding presence.

A Draconic presence.

Had all the Dragon souls she’d inadvertently consumed joined with the Druidic Essence? Or had the girl always been capable of assimilating Essence as an innate ability?

When he dipped a finger into the mana, he felt goosebumps.

Jun had fought Dragons before. Staring down an adult Dragon gave one the feeling of facing down a storm front stretching across the horizon, a tsunami drawing back the tide, or a forest fire that blackened the sky.

Spellcraft may have allowed humans to harness the energies of the planes, but nature easily reminded them that she was effortlessly more potent. That was the feeling he got from the dancing viridescent mana within Gwen’s hands.

“Uncle Jun.” Gwen’s face was equal parts apprehension and excitement. “My Druidic Essence… I think it has taken on a new nature.”

Gwen was very sorry she’d punched her Uncle Jun.

The first few seconds of her groggy wakefulness had been punctuated with irrational fear, especially as a man had been pinning her arms. Though Faceless and Edgar were a lifetime behind her, some things refused to be forgotten.

Her precious clothes were drenched and tattered. There was something in her mouth that she’d been biting, which turned out to be a cooking paddle swaddled with a pillowcase.

The guilt of punching her uncle was overshadowed by the lucid vision she had just undergone.

When was the last time she had sung the Snake, dreamt the Dreaming? Not since her Christmas adventure with the girls, when they’d fought Wanka. Had Almudj awakened? Have I awakened it? She recalled seeing the red rock of Uluru; there was something else—the Three Peaks. Lotus Peak! There had been a white jade hall and the Yinglong!

“I’ll be in the kitchen. Come out and explain yourself.” Uncle Jun understood, as always. He was always worried for her.

Once she was alone, Gwen turned her mind inward. Last time, when the Rainbow Serpent had left, a part of it had remained in her, a spark of primordial divinity that had made her special, giving her a way to combat the hunger of the Void.

This time, Almudj’s intervention was born from anger and possessiveness.

Calming herself, Gwen rationalised the phenomena. Almudj was an old and natural existence, a mythical being from times immemorial. Dragons, for all intents and purposes, even Chinese ones, were largely the same thing—creatures of magnificent elemental Affinity intimately linked to land and legend.

Assuming she was Almudj’s kin, wouldn’t that mean that her possessing its Essence made her an extension of Almudj’s domain, sharing its presence and being? If so, in her voracious consumption of the Essence of creatures engendered by the Yinglong, would she not offend Almudj?

After all, she had been cramming Draconic vitality into her body intemperately for days. Just in the last twenty-four hours, she had Consumed at least a dozen deer, including a buck.

Oh no. Gwen bit her metaphoric tongue. Did that count as cheating on Almudj?

She switched to her mind’s eye.

Within her astral body, she saw that the fortifying vitality stolen from the Draconic creatures now nourished her Druidic Essence. For Gwen, her limited understanding of the mystical phenomena could only be clarified by the imperfect analogy that Almudj, a native fauna, was subsuming the invasive species. After all, her rainbow-scaled kin hated usurpers and invaders more than anything.

For now, her “Amuldj” Essence swelled with vigour, floating beside raw motes of Lightning and Void. As for her astral body, it glowed a bit brighter but otherwise remained the same.

As for what her Druidic Essence 2.0 portended… she had no idea. If nothing else, her Divination Sigil remained as quiet as a church mouse.

Chapter twenty-three

Silencing the Lamb

“Ryxi…”

Ryxi’s sister pinched the centre of her brow ridge. In her draconian form, she had a single horn—a little protruding ivory tooth forming a distinct and aesthetic addition to her androgynous appearance. However, she had grown glacial with displeasure, the ultramarine of her vivid orbs resplendent against the obsidian slits that formed her irises.

Golos spat a glob of phlegm at their eldest sibling. The viscous gunk splattered on Ryxi’s emperor moth silk robes. Their eldest took the insult with measured dignity.

“I don’t know what to say.” Ayxin shook with emotions she didn’t know she still possessed. “The Drought Goddess. You expect us to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Ryxi had chosen to bypass the stage of haughty denial, arriving straightaway at despairing defeat. Their eldest had presented himself in his Draconian form—a slender male with a feminine silhouette—the equivalent of showing one’s belly. It was degrading, but it drew sympathy from Ayxin.

Ryxi knew he had humiliated the lineage by not attacking the intruders, but what had his siblings expected him to do? The last time he had struck an outsider was two decades earlier. The last time he’d fought Golos, the Wyvern had stripped off half his precious scales, after which Ayxin had had to intervene. “It was terrifying. They were slaughtering my stock like Merfolk. There was a hideous creature eating them alive. Alive, Ayxin! Swallowing them whole! The Death Gila stabbed the buck in the eyes with its members!”

Golos shifted its impressive bulk. “It kills with its penis?” he demanded. “How big are we talking?”

Ryxi measured the dimension with his hands.

“That’s nothing. Are we talking prehensile or what?”

“I think it had a mouth on one end.”

Golo’s reptilian face took on a contemplative air.

“Lined with teeth!” Ryxi added.

“This thing is an abomination,” Golos declared, snapping his maw and shifting his barbed tail. “We have to kill it.”

“You two idiots,” Ayxin snarled. “Silence!”

“Grrrr!” Golos snapped back. Their youngest always hated it when Ayxin treated him like a wyrmling. They were almost the same age, and he had twin Draconic lineages.

“Hissaaaak!” Ayxin’s face contorted, extending a forked tongue.

“Aaeeeee!” Ryxi bolted for cover.

With a twist of its densely muscled back, Golos swung its tail across the plateau like a whip, stirring dust, pebble and lose plants unfortunate enough to be caught in its path.

“Jilg Soti!” Ayxin spat from her petal-like lips, invoking the bloodline magic gifted from their mutual father. Though Golos was the better brawler, it was no match for the most prominent of the Yinglong’s endowment—the ability to invoke magical effects via sheer will and Dragon Tongue. Few Dragon-kin could develop the power of the pureblood, and even fewer could master it. Ayxin was an exception. That was why she was her father’s favourite.

A few inches from her face, Golos's spiked tail halted.

“You cheat!” Golos gnashed its teeth. “Try fighting me with your body. Your real body!”

“We need to apprehend the assailants.” Ayxin’s scales bristled with malice. “Fighting me is only going to delay Father’s wishes.”

“Fight me, pissant!”

“Vataka!”

Golos knelt, crashing against the granite and sending up another dust cloud.

“Guuaaarrgh!” Golos opened its muzzle.

“Don’t you dare!” Ayxin glared at her brother coldly.

“Huurrrgh!” The shriek of thunder and lightning rose to a crescendo.

“Saut coi!”

Before the rumbling blast of superheated plasma could emerge, Ayxin commanded Golos to close its mouth, catching his breath attack halfway. Golos’s eyes bulged as thunderous lightning travelled up its sinus and blasted out its nose and ear holes.

Hammered by his breath, he slumped onto the plateau.

“Tut-tut.” Ryxi watched Golos’s suffering with evident glee. “Idiot!”

“Can you find them?” Their sister turned her wrathful mien against their eldest sibling. “Your answer better be yes, else I am feeding you to Golos.”

Ryxi’s retort choked in his mouth. “Y-yes.” His uncertain answer was full of apprehension.

Why the hell were his siblings so strong? Their youngest, Golos, was reasonable. His mother had been the alpha of the southern range for half a century before the Yinglong had taken an interest. As for Ayxin, the Dragon-kin had shown up one day at the mount demanding to see Father. Ryxi had taken Ayxin, who had only known her human form, to see their esteemed patriarch.

It had been at least two centuries since. The mountainous realm of their father remained as immutable as the three peaks themselves. When the humans had come to parley half a century ago, Ayxin had taken care of their affairs, with the humans conceding the entirety of the territory they called Anhui. Of course, the constant skirmishes continued.

Though the humans were not genuine, it was impossible to know the patriarch’s magnificent mind, so Ryxi could only guess what the Yinglong would want with these poachers. He was sure his father had no interest in punishing the humans for stealing deer. As for Angkar, Ryxi couldn’t recall who the Pangolin was supposed to be.

“Doton Szcy!”

Ryxi activated the bloodline magic of the White Serpents, a form of greater Clairvoyance tied to the mist that permanently surrounded the land.

“I asked the mists to distinguish their passing,” the Draconic Sprite explained. “They have no scent. That’s why you couldn’t find them. Their equipment makes them almost invisible.”

A large pool of water appeared in front of the two humanoid Dragon-kin. The two leaned in closer, jostling for space against the unconscious Golos. Dragon form was great and all, but there was only so much space on top of the peaks. If they all took their natural states, at least one of them would have to hover by the edge awkwardly.

“Nothing,” Ayxin hissed. “There’s no one there!” The scrying pool showed an empty patch of forest. Ryxi wasn’t entirely sure if White Serpents could sweat, though his scales did secrete a slimy substance.

“They may be in a pocket dimension. The humans often hide in such spaces.”

“Bah! Keep an eye out.” Ayxin approached the unconscious body of her half-sibling Wyvern. Golos’s breath was shallow and feeble. Cobalt oozed from every orifice on his face. “You are not to rest or sleep until they are found.”

“I obey, Ayxin.” Ryxi’s prideful Draconic heart bled blue blood as he bowed.

“Irisv!” Ayxin touched a finger to Golos’s face. Healing energy infused his head. The restoration continued for half a minute as Golos’s torn scales mended, his eyes returned to clarity, and his serpentine neck again rose into the air.

“What happened?” He looked around confusedly.

“You lost consciousness.” Ayxin folded her arms. “Rest, Golos. You’re on standby. We’re moving to intercept as soon as this ‘Drought Goddess’ appears.”

Their youngest glanced at Ryxi, who meditated with a swirl of mist entering and exiting his nostrils. The memory of their last exchange came flooding back as the Wyvern rose. The idiot could always ambush Ayxin, of course, but that would be meaningless, not to mention Father would be very angry indeed.

“Fine.” Golos shook its massive head. Ryxi guessed their youngest would have to take it out his anger on their prey. “I obey.”

Gwen emerged into the heavily shaded pine forest, slipping from the grey space of their Portable Habitat’s pocket dimension. Jun followed shortly after, then Gwen retrieved her habitat, stowing it within her ring.

“This way.” Jun led with his peerless orienteering sense.

Their destination was six hours away by foot, including shortcuts undertaken via Flight, Feather Fall and Jump.

“The gorge should have some fascinating fauna as well.” Jun spoke of the marked map they had received from Anhui’s rangers. “Draconic Mermen. Some may even be Lightning, although those would be the elite warriors.”

More Lightning Affinity. Gwen felt her lips curl. “Do you think Consume has a limit?”

“It must have,” Jun said. “There is balance in all things. Even if it can take you beyond tier VII, there has to be a cost.”

“I don’t feel any different,” Gwen assured her uncle. Though she was inclined to agree, there had to be a limit.

Once her fevered celebration cooled, she was forced to acknowledge the unnatural state of her Affinity. Jun had informed her earlier that possessing a tier VI Lightning Element put her in the top five per cent of all Elemental Casters. Additionally, that she was only seventeen meant she had room to grow. Unilaterally, she gained raw power; abstractly, she gained future autonomy and respect from her institutions.

Just like that, her IIUC selection appeared closer and within reach.

For the prospect of her ultimate freedom, she wept. For her uncle’s paternal generosity, she cried.

In a way, Jun’s warning was more superstition than fact, but Gwen trusted her uncle’s intuition because her Divination Sigil had been buzzing like an alarm clock since they’d left for the gorge. When she’d mentioned this to her uncle, they had stopped, hidden, and then set an ambush. When nothing had appeared for almost an hour, they’d begun their trek again.

“Perhaps something in the gorge?” Gwen asked. “We might get swarmed by Mermen or ambushed.”

“We’ll be cautious,” Jun assured her. “Does your Divination pertain to yourself or our quest?”

“Just me,” Gwen replied. “Mayuree said that our trip was going to be fortuitous. She’s been right so far. Bang on the dot. Gods, I still can’t believe it, tier VI!”

“Yes, yes, tier VI.” Jun chuckled. “All right, let’s keep going. We’re just getting started.”

“They’re headed for the Buxian Gorge.” Ryxi displayed the vision for Ayxin and their half-sibling, refracted from his conjured scrying pool.

“There’s a female.” Golos licked his lips. “She looks delicious.”

“That’s the Drought Goddess.” Ryxi pointed to the male Mage.

“Brother…” Ayxin wondered if Ryxi had spent so long holed up in the Sky Lake that he had become a carp.

“Pretty masculine for a goddess,” Golos grunted. “Looks tough.”

“I’ll take the male.” Ayxin pointed at the vision in the pool, rolling her eyes. “You can’t handle him.”

Golos’s scales bristled.

Ayxin waited until her half-brother had finished stroking his machismo, glaring at Golos until he averted his gaze.

“Ryxi, I don’t want them seeing us until we’re close. I am going to separate the girl so Golos can have fun. My Misty Realm needs to catch our ‘Drought God’ by surprise, or else they’ll teleport away.”

“Then I shall coax the sea of clouds.” Ryxi lowered his head. “There shall be rain and thunder to mask our approach.”

“Good. Golos, take care not to break the girl. She has to be brought before Father alive. No eating her.”

“Blargh!” Golos hesitated. “Alive is fine?”

“Be careful.” Ayxin scrutinised her half-brother, ensuring that his wounds were healed. “No one will help you if you become fodder like Angkar. From the sounds of it, she’s got a Death Gila as a Familiar. If she’s a full-fledged Necromancer, flee.”

The gorge came into sight.

The sheer drop was best traversed via a free fall from the cliff using Feather Fall, though that would expose the two of them to sharp-eyed spotters wary of churning shrouds and cascading mist.

Gwen and Jun discreetly made their way down the mossy crag, avoiding the gruel-like slick and the occasional block of deceptively anchored mud. She slipped once or twice, though Jun always caught her, once by the scruff, another time by the wrist.

They arrived twenty minutes later at a metasequoia bursting from a fissure, forming an umbrella over the scene below. The duo rested above a Merfolk village, a sizeable one with a hundred huts and what looked like extensive warrens dug into the granite. It was the first time Gwen had seen a demi-human village. She studied the layout intently, noting with disquiet how much it resembled those rural communities she had seen on her previous travels.

“Map.”

The two stretched their cloaks between them, forming a hidden canvas. As always, the Japanese-made military equipment astonished Gwen with its versatility.

Jun produced a pair of binoculars. He jotted down notes on the map of the gorge, marking down patrols, numbers, and types, explaining the legend.

“Here, you try. It even works with Detect Magic. It’s a Carl Zeiss AG 70—300 mm, made in Germany.” Jun kindly informed her of the maker of the ocular device. “It was a gift from your grandfather.”

His niece adjusted the nosepiece, placing the device over her eyes.

The Merfolk below looked almost human. The males stood just over five foot, discounting their crest-fin, with a slick dermis that suggested they were likely descended from eels. The females were smaller, with thinner frames and proportionally longer limbs. Despite the familiar silhouette of their bodies, the males had a larger upper torso, while the females had wide birthing hips. As with most Merfolk, their faces were horrendously ugly, with wide lips that looked like open sores and milky eyes with indistinct pupils. Despite their eel-like nature, their foreheads had scales that resembled markings.

The ones Gwen could spot radiated a strong presence of Elemental Water. When Gwen willed the device to zoom in upon an abnormally large hut, she caught the distinct glow of Elemental Lightning, its motes of mana sharp and precise.

“Four or five of them.” Gwen marked their locations on the map.

“Good.” Jun tapped the cartographic chart. “You plan and execute the operation this time. I’ll be back up. The younglings are tier I at best, their warriors about three. The Lightning Warriors would normally be general class, an equivalent of tier V, but I wouldn’t worry about their chances against you.”

At the sound of Jun’s suggestion, Gwen regarded the village.

“Can you do it?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Gwen met his eyes. Strangely, her’s looked mortified. Was this the same sorceress who had just cornered and slaughtered all that deer? He placed a firm hand on her back, feeling the tension in her spine.

His niece flinched. He could tell her heart was racing.

Jun reminded himself that the girl was seventeen and green and hadn’t Purged a village before. She was a survivor, but one warzone did not make a warrior. It took the death of teammates, friends, and acquaintances, again and again to make a man or woman stone-hearted. He had no desire to wish calamity on his niece, but she had to acclimate herself to walking the Path of Violent Conflict.

In the Wildland, mercy to one’s enemies was cruelty to oneself.

The secondary objective of their poaching adventure was to whet the girl’s edge and hone her killing instinct. Jun hoped the girl recalled his promise that she would walk away from this trip with more than just a spirit.

“They’re only fish,” he assured her, finding her hesitation endearing. “You can’t make a Jiang Bing without breaking a few eggs. No sushi roll without fish-men roe. If we leave them, they’ll grow to be a menace.”

His banter did not appear to sway her.

Jun waited while she stared into the middle distance, contemplating her options. When she opened her eyes again, they were clarified with renewed purpose and determination.

“I don’t want to kill beyond our objective,” the girl answered.

“So be it. If that’s your choice, then we’ll wait.” Jun was not opposed to his niece’s strange ethics.

When he and Hai had been boys, Guo had taken them to the Wuxi Frontier and made them slaughter Merfolk until their mother had threatened Guo that she would take her sons home with or without him.

For now, he would bear her tender burden and buy her the time she needed to come around. That was the fatherly thing to do.

He pointed a finger toward the darkening clouds. “Rain is coming.” He instructed her to observe the volumetric increase in Elemental Water. “Always remember people, time, and place. Without the congruency of all three, you will always be at a disadvantage. Let the rain obscure everything, then you begin your mercy mission.”

Gwen appeared to calm herself.

His niece observed the Merfolk below, some by themselves, others in twos and threes. Her breath sounded heavy, for the atmosphere was full of moisture. Her body language looked rigid despite the Enchantment embedded in her skin suit. She glanced at him. He nodded back.

Side by side, the hunters waited for the first drop of rain.

The spawning pool simmered, warmed to perfect brooding temperature by quasi-magical firestones.

Beside it, a sleekly shaped Merfolk, a female, decorated the sides with precious gems. Her name was Glugurp, meaning the ‘gleaming of silver streams at midnight’.

Glugurp’s mate, Bhu, was the best warrior in the village. Bhu had been blessed by the Dragon God of Lotus Peak and could use the endowment of heaven to punish the tribe’s enemies.

His lineage made Bhu desirable as a mate, and he had since spawned with many females.

But Glugurp knew herself to be special to Bhu. Every time Glugurp set up her spawning pool, Bhu brought her insects, sweet fruits, and even flesh from creatures he had hunted.

That night was special because the rain would be plentiful and the thunder would be loud. The Water Priest had said that children hatched during this time would receive the blessing of the Master of the Mount. It meant that maybe some of her spawn would be like Bhu.

If enough of them survived, it would make Glugurp very influential in the village. She may even become a Sacred Mother. One day, her children might invade the village across the gorge and usurp their hunting ground. When the tribe became large enough, they could leave the Dragon’s Mountain.

Thinking about this made Glugurp very excited. It also made her angry and upset.

Hairless ape-men ruled the outside world. Not the ape-men of the woods by the Sky Lake, but ape-men wearing exotic skins and wielding terrific powers. The elders had said that these humans were all blessed by their gods. They had the means to control fire, water, earth, everything, even the heavenly thunder.

Humans are scary, Glugurp agreed. But they were a future threat. What they endured here and now was what troubled her mind.

Half of her little ones had been offered to the Dragons during her last spawning. The village elder had even offered her most beautiful daughter, Gui, whose scales were blessed by the golden sun, to the Thunder Wyvern. The Elder had hoped that, perhaps, the indescribable beauty of Gui would entice the Wyvern to spawn with her, thereby empowering the village.

Glugurp had been sure that Golos would mate with Gui and plant his seed in her pool, a thing her daughter had meticulously decorated for the Wyvern, lining it with all the precious baubles in the village.

Then the Wyvern came, but not to spawn. The thrice-cursed Golos had eaten her daughter. Gui had screamed just once. Then, she had become two halves. Glugurp wasn’t sure what she had expected. Why hadt the elders said that Wyvern had lusted after Gui? There were plenty of others the Wyvern could have eaten.

Then came the famine. Winter was unseasonably cold. Only a dozen of her children survived. Then came the fire. They said a Dragon started it. Or humans. Or it was an accident. No one knew the truth. All she knew was that she had lost more of her precious ones. Then there were raids. Some against them, and some they orchestrated against the other tribes.

After many summers, Glugurp had been left alone. Her pretty ones had died, all of them. Her chest had grown sore when she’d looked at the other females’ elvers. But the village survived. It was the wet season again. It was time to spawn again.

Bhu would have to do his best; she hoped his body would keep up. He was no longer a young fish, and there were many females. Though she alone would be the first.

Thunk!

A strange sound. A fallen cone, perhaps, from one of the Dragon trees, dislodged by the rain. Glugurp went to investigate. The gorge resounded with the pitter-patter of rain. But where were the frogs’ songs? What happened to the night birds trilling from the shelter of their bowers? The lack of nature sounds frightened her.

Bhu, she told herself. I need to find Bhu, my Dragon-hearted love.

“What has happened?” Her neighbour. Though not as beautiful as Glugurp, a young female came to see if Bhu had arrived. Glugurp did not like the upstart, whose only worth was her youth. Bhu had visited her a few times, though not as often as Glugurp.

“Nothing, go back to your hut,” Glugurp snapped at the young female. Glugurp hoped that Bhu wasn’t on his way to see her now, for they might miss each other, then that young one would receive his seed first.

Nonetheless, she was afraid; she had a gut feeling. Glugurp was very good with her gut feelings. Were she not so fertile, she would have become a Water Priest.

Glugurp made her way to the Elder’s hut. The largest building in the village.

During the tribe’s glory days, it had held over two thousand warriors. Now they had only a hundred. It was one of the reasons why Bhu was so important. The Elders knew this; they had asked Bhu to become an Elder, even though he’d lived a mere twenty summers.

The other females were busy preparing their huts and decorating their pools.

A few of the young males gawked at Glugurp. She was very attractive.

Glugurp had silvery, shimmering scales and very supple limbs. Her abdomen was very large for a Merfolk of her size, meaning she could produce many eggs.

Glugurp bared her teeth at them; the young men gurgled shyly. They would not receive a chance to spawn with Glugurp, not while Bhu was around. hey knew this. Still, they were young warriors, useful in their way.

She made it to the large hut. Where are the guards? Glugurp wondered.

There were usually two burly warriors standing guard. Kar and Vurg. One season, she’d spawned with Kar. He was a good eel but not as good as Bhu.

The ground was soft with mud. Glugurp saw misshapen footsteps leading into the Chief’s hut. The squall was heavier now; the air was growing electric. Should she enter without an announcement? The Chief would beat her. Or not. Not if Bhu had anything to say.

“Glugurp is coming in,” Glugurp said to no one.

The inside of the hut was dark. Too dark. Where was the light? There was usually moss or magic, just enough to see.

Clack!

Pottery shattering. A drinking vessel. What was that? Glugurp felt her heart jump. She walked forward slowly.

“Guards?” She raised her voice. The rain drowned it out.

The hut had many rooms.

She proceeded to the guard room. Many of the warriors had designs on her. This pleased Glugurp. She could persuade them to do things for her, even though they were afraid of Bhu.

“Jukl, Fup, Dui, are you here? Where is Bhu?”

She smelled it before she saw it. Blood. Merfolk blood, the colour of bruised cerulean.

Jukl was slumped forward. His head and torso were missing. Fup was missing his chest and right arm. Dui’s head was attached, but it looked like something had chewed through his lower abdomen and attempted to decapitate him.

Glugurp felt her blood run colder than usual. She began to secrete a milky ooze all over her skin—a defence mechanism.

She turned around.

Only darkness.

“Guards!” she called out. “GUARDS!”

A flash of lightning.

CRASH!

Then the sound of thunder rolled in.

The rain was falling harder now.

For some strange reason, she felt a sensation like the time Bhu had taken her up onto a cliff and they had dared each other to dive into the depths of the pool far below.

Glugurp quietly exited the guard room. The second room did not burst open with burly warriors. There was ash on the floor. The dark motes stuck to her feet.

Maybe out of morbid curiosity or perhaps the courage given to her by Bhu, Glugurp approached the double door of the Chief’s meeting room. She hesitated at the threshold, then pushed.

The door opened.

Glugurp saw a huge frog… no, a toad, was trying to swallow Bhu!

No. NO!

It was swallowing Bhu whole. That flash of lightning and thunder, had it been from Bhu?

Her Chief lay to one side, mangled. His skin was charred and his eye sockets smoked.

Bhu hadn’t done this. Bhu wasn’t that powerful.

Four other warriors like Bhu, one of whom was Bhu’s spawn from another mate, lay here and there, unmoving. One of them even looked awake, though his eyes were wide and vacant.

“BHU!” Glugurp couldn’t help herself. “Let go of Bhu!”

She spat a glob of gastric acid at the giant frogman, conjuring a water missile to attack its face.

She’d once had the potential to be a Water Priest. It was known.

The toad’s chest convulsed. There was a sucking sound.

Bhu was gone.

Glugurp stared, disbelieving. Her Dragon-hearted Bhu, just like that?

“Get out. Go!”

“Gwen, that’s a female.”

“Uncle…”

“Gwen, do you know how much that one female can spawn? Our combat doctrine prioritises the females!”

Strange language came from the limbless dark. Glugurp did not understand the voice calling her.

“Void Bolt!”

Glugurp recognised the sound of human magic. It was extremely distinct, the melody of its incantation like nothing that could exist in nature.

A dark shadow consumed her lower limbs. Glugurp lost her balance and fell to the floor. The pain came. Her legs were gone!

“Wuaah, whuaaah!” Glugurp flailed. “It hurts… ah… Bhu…”

What was happening? Why was this happening?

The monstrous toad plucked another Dragon-blessed warrior from the floor.

WHY! Glugurp felt the warmth drain from her lower body. Why this cruelty? What had they done to deserve this? The Dragon Gods, why weren’t they there to defend Glugurp? Protect their people? They had sacrificed so much and lost so many of their children to appease the powers that be!

Elsewhere, her spawning pool glistened. It was supposed to be filled with eggs by that night.

“GUUAARRGK! DAMN YOU!” Glugurp cried out, only to have her cry drowned out by thunder.

Her pretty Gui. All her pretty ones are gone. Gone forever. The gods were cruel, and they didn’t care. “WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU, LORD GOLOS?”

CRACK-CRASH!

A blast of thunder erupted overhead. The hut’s roof splintered, flying every which way, scattering all over.

The sound was so loud, its eruption so intense, that Glugurp was sure she might never hear again. Not that it mattered now. Glugurp was dying.

The rain cascaded into the room, splattering over the bloody floor, over the stunned warriors, over two vaguely humanoid silhouettes, over the tenebrous form of the toad, over Glugurp’s body.

Glugurp’s eyelids enfolded her orbs, wiping away the blurry vision. There were two humans there, now exposed by the thunder blast.

Then came a flash of lightning. One of the human silhouettes disappeared.

“UNCLE?” the female cried out.

Next came a thunderous bell-beat of wings. Glugurp could barely keep herself conscious. The rain was freezing. Had it always been so cold? Wasn’t it summer? It was spawning season, she was sure.

A familiar shape landed atop Glugurp. A cruel face Glugurp would never forget, not even as her world grew too dark to see.

Lord Golos.

Their god was there. He was there to avenge Bhu, to avenge all her pretty ones, doomed to never be born. A petty master who came to avenge the theft of his livestock.

The gorge was lovely, dark and deep. It was only now that Glugurp could sleep.

But she as happy. The gods had listened, after all.

Chapter twenty-four

Karma Comes Calling

Ayxin, Golos, and Ryxi watched as the interlopers descended into the gorge.

“We should take them now,” Golos snapped impatiently, his voice low and vulgar.

“Silence,” Ayxin said. “We shall observe their abilities and cantrips.”

Golos grumbled, emitting a thrum of louring thunder.

“This is your territory, isn’t it?” their eldest declared mockingly. “Your people are in a shocking state. They look half-starved.”

“Yes, you have taken too little care of this place.” Ayxin furrowed her brow ridges attractively. Her territory was flush with fat Merfolk, building entire theologies surrounding the Dragon of the Mount. “Father will hear of this.”

Were it not for the fact that they were about to ambush two intruders, Golos would have taken a chunk out of Ryxi. Tattletale Snake! The Wyvern visibly fumed, sending up two streams of blue smoke from his nostrils.

“Hee hee.” Ryxi knew he would pay for it, but not before Father berated Golos. The White Serpent remembered fondly the time Golos had been so intimidated by their father’s Dragon fear that he’d taken a dump right there in the middle of the White Jade Hall! Oh, that was the day! The putrid stench had been worth it. Golos had been nest-ridden for a month afterwards, denied all healing as his body mended bone by bone.

The two humans, one male and the other female, stopped to study the village. As their quarry waited patiently, so did they.

“Ryxi,” Ayxin said. “Hurry it up.”

“Subtlety takes time,” Ryxi replied with a sibilant whisper, barely audible. “It’s almost here.”

Possessing both the blood of the White Serpent and the Yinglong, their eldest could persuade the rain, fog and snow to fall wherever and whenever he wished within their father’s territory. The cost of moving elemental Air and Water from their natural formation was no simple feat. It took incredible volumes of mana and unimaginable concentration to coax even a single cloud to move against the course of nature. As Ryxi was a horrendously incompetent combatant, he chose to contribute to the obfuscation of their enemy.

The rain began, first with the gentleness of soft archery, then growing with strength until Dragon Pines bent from the sudden inundation.

A flash of lightning rolled across the sky.

“I feel strong.” Golos cracked the many ligaments in his neck. “This is good.”

CRACK! The fulmination of thunder soon followed a low rumble that matched Golos’s chuckling.

The Dragon-kins watched as their quarry skulked into the village.

“Sneaky rats,” Golos puffed with growing agitation. The village looked vaguely familiar. He recalled feeding there. The eels here were not as fat as the ones in Ryxi’s territory. “I will make them pay.”

“Caliban, do it now.”

Under cover of rain and thunder, uncle and niece moved from shadow to darkness without fear of detection. Ariel streaked from hut to hut, cover to cover, with impunity, while Caliban stalked in its spider form. Until they engaged in combat, both of her Familiars were invisible to the naked eye, courtesy of her new Illusion talent.

As the rain fell, an air of celebration seemed to take over the village. The males, slick with milky gloop, seemed to take on new vigour. When Jun had said it was spawning season, Gwen hadn’t imagined they would be stalking past spawning pools swimming with transparent egg sacks. Some of the eggs were enveloped in creamy gunk. Gwen shuddered.

The two skirted around the village until they reached a point where it was easier to switch to Flight. Caliban and Ariel soon followed, skittering and creeping into place.

Two guards stood in front of the Chieftain’s hut—ugly humanoids with wet neck slits for breathing gills and fat lips that rolled in and out as the eel-folk breathed, savouring the moisture in the air.

A low rumble began to build. Gwen waited.

CRACK! “—d Bolt!”

BOOM! “—en Lance!”

Two headless bodies struck the floor. One head turned to ash. The meagre magical resistance of Merfolk warriors was no match for the duo’s notoriously corrosive elements.

Caliban, perched atop the hut, pulled up both carcasses with its foreclaws before packing away its humanoid cargo wholesale.

“All right, Uncle, as we discussed.”

Jun nodded.

The two entered the Chief’s abode. Despite the smaller height of the eel-like Merfolk, it was impressively large and served a dual purpose, likely as a place of ceremony.

“Three guards on the right, one on the left. Uncle, can you take the lone one?”

Jun made an okay with his fingers. The two pushed inward.

Gwen waited at the door, a stick straw barrier that would prove no obstacle. The guards appeared to have been drinking. There was a sickening smell of alcohol in the room. From the festive atmosphere outside, she guessed that they were likely having a gala to celebrate the breeding season.

Another thunderbolt began to swell. On her right, Jun emerged. He was done.

She turned her attention back to her quarry.

CRACK!

Caliban pried the door open, surprising the guards inside. Gwen let loose the incantation she’d been nursing. “Void Orb!”

Her elementally-shifted Ball Lightning sought out their targets unerringly.

Thunk!

Psuwark!

SPLAT!

One guard lost his face. The next took a hit in the right shoulder, with the spell expanding to consume his chest and arm. The final guard took it in the abdomen. He looked up at Gwen and opened his mouth to scream.

With a wet, piercing schwark, Caliban sunk his foreclaw into the wood behind the Merfolk’s neck. The head fell, tethered by a flap of slimy skin.

Gwen suppressed the acrid taste touching the cavern of her mouth. She stalked from the room, her nostrils distending from the scent of gore, half-digested fish, and failing organs.

Before Caliban could consume the corpses, a stirring commotion came from inside the hut’s main chamber.

“Rbmrgr mrmrll grrbmrgrmrgllbaba?”

“Ml mrllmrmgrlrl glrllrlrbrmrgllbaba!”

The smell! Gwen cursed herself. The stink of these creatures’ carcasses was immense and impossible to hide! Unlike her uncle, her spells did not entirely consume the bodies of her enemies.

“Ariel, like last time!”

“EEEee!”

“Cali! Onslaught the Chieftain.”

“Shaa!”

The double thatched doors opened. Ariel shot into the room, between the Merfolk’s legs. The surprised warrior was one of their desired quarries, with a strong presence of Lightning. Inside, Gwen could detect her remaining Affinity-boosters scrambling to act.

BUNG!

Ariel escaped right before the Flashbang payload filled the room with the rolling coil of lightning and thunder, mixing well with the sound of the pelting rain outside. Gwen allowed her mana to flow freely.

“EE-EE!” Ariel grew into its mongoose form. It re-entered the room, a living streak of Lightning. The mongoose barrelled into a large Merfolk, ripping out a chunk of his throat.

“Shaa—SCREEEEEEEE!” Caliban burst into the room, knocking the first ell-man onto his back.

“RBLLR MRRRLRRR! Grmlllgrmrgllbaba!”

The Chief was the first to act. It let loose a syllable of warnings before Caliban erupted into a full-fledged Onslaught fed by the collective death of three dozen Draconic deer and a stag. The Eel priest managed half a spell, raising a wall that barely covered its waist, before Caliban hacked off its limbs, stabbed two rending pincers into its chest, and then shot a tentacle into its gaping mouth.

“Ashen Chains!”

A lightning bolt wreathed in dark ash appeared for a split second, making a sizzling sound akin to fat pressed against a red-hot grill.

Jun’s Ash-shifted Chain Lightning scored its first target, then leapt quickly to a second, third, fourth and fifth. The Merfolk warriors slump to the floor placidly, drained of will and fortitude.

IFF without a spirit? Gwen wondered how her uncle managed such a thing.

Was it because of his absurdly high Affinity?

“Caliban!” Her Familiar threw the rag-doll body of the dying Chieftain away from itself, splashing its audience with a slick spray of slimy offal. It then turned to the first Merfolk, effortlessly assuming its toad-form; unlike the spindly spider shape, the bipedal Gila allowed for an expedient Consume.

“Looks like everything’s under control.” Jun scanned the room. “They should be stunned for at least five minutes. Better hurry. They’ll be spent before long.”

Gwen followed her uncle’s advice. She ignored the fish-stink assaulting her nostrils, fortifying her mind for the butchery to come. These demi-humans were the enemy of the human race, she reminded herself. It’s a fish-eat-man-eat-fish world out here. Like her uncle had said, you couldn’t make sushi roll without Mermen roe.

The downpour continued unabated, filling the room with the dull thud of pellets pelting the thatched roof, killing the clamour caused by their atrocity.

“That one first.” Gwen directed her Familiar to the biggest of the bunch.

With a smooth strike from its left, Caliban skewered the humanoid-eel like an unagi-slab at an Izakaya restaurant. It then distended its mouth, enclosing the victim’s upper body.

Creak.

The double door opened. A womanly Eel-folk stood at the threshold, its milky eyes wide with horror.

A female? Gwen’s stomach lurched sideways. The Merfolk pointed to the male stuck halfway in Caliban’s gullet.

“BHUERRH? GHMMMRRL LR BHERRH!”

“Get out! Go!” Gwen hissed at the wretched thing. She had promised herself there would be a limit. This matronly aberration was that limit. They would be done soon; they could afford to let one go, surely?

“Gwen, that’s a female, and it’ll give us away.” Her uncle appeared to have a different idea.

“Uncle, she’s pregnant.”

“Gwen, do you know how much that one female can spawn? Our combat doctrine prioritises the females!”

Her uncle waited for Gwen to act. When she did not, he raised his hand to strike the Merfolk.

Gwen caught her uncle’s arm. Jun’s unconscious attempt at cleaning up her mess came so naturally that it made her heart sore. A spell uttered from her lips, accompanied by a dreaded sense of guilt far more compelling than her initial remorse. “Void Bolt!”

Her attack shaved off the female’s lower body. Jun gave her shoulder a reaffirming squeeze.

Gwen felt an immense wave of relief. A muffled cry of inner turmoil chided her hypocrisy, but now was not the time for a performance re-evaluation.

Gwen crushed the ambivalent feeling rising in her chest and urged Caliban to hurry. If she were foolish enough to abandon her objective after all that, the wretched female would have died for no reason.

“Wuaah, whuaaah.” The damned thing flailed. It was crying! Milky tears were flowing from its eyes! Her hand reached out again. “Burl… ahrr… Bherrh…”

She attempted to finish it, but her invocation choked as it escaped her lips.

“GUUAARRGK! GBBBLRH! HURR!” the female let loose one last cry, her voice drowned out by the coming of rolling thunder. Gwen thanked the weather, for the thunder should mask the hateful thing’s voice, after which there would be blessed silence.

“WWARRRRBL ARRH HURRR? GOORRRLOOOOTH!”

CRASH! BOOM!

The thankful thunder came. Gwen turned away from the sorry sight of the pitiful thing, her conscience numb with self-loathing. She would have to take up her issues with the woman in the mirror at a later appointment.

“Wha—" A jolt of Divination struck her spine.

“UNCLE!” Gwen cried out. Her voice was drowned by the rolling rumble filling both of their ears.

“ROAR!”

That’s no thunder! Gwen’s mind barely had time to register the shock before they were struck. In a mocking parallel of how they had stunned their enemies, now they were the ones being stunned, rendering uncle and niece incapacitated and disorientated.

It was only a split-second. But it was enough. The roof splintered. Rain poured in.

An enormous Draconic shape began to descend, its advance far quicker than Gwen could believe possible for a thing of its size.

A puff of mist and vapour appeared beside them. Jun was about to recover, his hands already in the motions of invoking a spell. There was a burst of colourless mana mixed with air; then her uncle was gone.

The Thunder Wyvern landed in front of Gwen. She could smell its stinking breath.

“Imputak munthrek nak!” the Thunder Wyvern spat at her. “Hur-hur-hur!”

Desperately, Gwen circulated a violent jolt of her Almudj’s Essence through her body, defeating her deafened and stunned state. Her mind was running ten thousand paces a minute, trying to catch up to reality. Where is Uncle Jun? Where did he go? Was it an attack that took him?

“Where is he?” Gwen spat back at the Wyvern. Her chest felt tight. Her face flushed with blood. A strange heat was quickly consuming her rationality. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Shaa… Shaa…” Caliban swallowed its victim. It snarled at the Wyvern and bared its teeth-lined maw. Two tentacles, one red and the other bright blue, distended from the recess of its bottomless gullet.

“Ee-EE!” Ariel likewise flattened itself in its combative mongoose form, having dispatched its victim.

The Wyvern taunted them. “Fogah shafaer ir! Si hefoc wer odat!”

Gwen’s vivid irises grew bright with encircling Lightning. There was a terrible sensation in her bosom, an unspeakable emotion that harkened back to when she’d seen Sobel standing over her Master at Rosebay when her friends had disappeared along with the Grot.

When Gwen next spoke, she too possessed the baritone of rumbling thunder.

“You will give Uncle Jun back, or I will fuck you up from the inside out, you oversized flying maggot!”

“Fiesk! Origato ui|ulph ocuir sjek wux retalk huena kes red dout hoinpic! Huhuhu, si inglata wux geou ergriff scivarn!” The Wyvern had a lascivious glare in his eye that would have usually made her nauseous, but Gwen was beyond such sensitivity.

Gwen felt her mind glowering with white rage. Everything had happened so fast; her comprehension couldn’t keep up with the chemicals bombarding her amygdala. All she knew was that she wanted to kill the fucking thing in front of her.

“Sho ve svabol wux tepoha itrewica!”

“YEAH, WELL, FUCK YOU TOO! Elemental Sphere!”

The Wyvern tensed. An unruly smirk took to Gwen’s lips. Her spell emanated not from herself but from Ariel’s horns.

The Lightning Sphere caught the Wyvern entirely off-guard. It stuck his flank, crawled up its scales and then exploded into a blast of cobalt energy more potent than anything she had ever manifested in her entire life as a Mage. The power and efficacy of tier VI Affinity! The second eruption was palpable enough that the Wyvern’s body shifted half-a-meter in the mud.

I can do this! And she was far from done.

“Void Bolt! Lightning Sphere! Warding Bolt! Void Bolt! Conjure Storm! Void Bolt! Blast Bolt!”

Before the Wyvern could recover, she let loose as many incantations as her rage-induced mind could weather before a temporary spell fatigue set in. By the last spell, her mana reserve dropped to three-quarters, her vitality to a lesser extent.

“Shochraos shud!” A sheet of blue-white lightning emanated from within the Wyvern, shrugging off her assault with its absurd constitution.

Her hopes for a quick kill faded as her spells slid from its neck and torso. Her lightning ripped through the Wyvern’s scales but failed to penetrate its tissues and ligaments as it had done for her usual monstrous enemies. The Void matter was likewise limited. Though it consumed some of the Wyvern’s keratin, her opponent’s leathery hide was warded by an unseen, supernatural force, weathered by the Wyvern’s Draconic vitality, his inherent Affinity for Lightning, or both.

Gwen’s heart sank. Now that she had gotten her immediate feelings out of the way, she began to realise the size of the shit-show which starred herself.

“Durrhop riika!” The Wyvern seemed to grow larger the angrier it became. Suddenly, it launched itself forward.

“SHIELD!”

“SCREEEEEE!”

“Gaurrrowl!”

Ariel and Caliban propelled themselves into melee attacks. Ariel latched onto the Wyvern’s flank and dug into its back with tooth and nail. Caliban dropped back into its spider form, then leapt into the air.

THUNK!

“SHAA—" It was met by a lashing tail that instantly crushed two of its forelimbs, slamming into its thorax. With another sickening crunch, the Void spider tumbled into the mud and the darkness. Some distance away, it connected with a hut, crushed the thatch wall, and then spiralled into the interior.

The Wyvern entirely ignored Ariel’s assault and pushed forward into Gwen’s Shield.

“FEEBLE!” it roared in a human tongue as it brought its massive jaws to bear. Looking up and seeing the splattering rain against Gwen’s opaque Shield, Gwen flashed back to the original Jurassic Park. Never in her life had she imagined that the T-Rex scene would be played out for her so intimately.

There was a moment of uncertainty as a toothy maw connected with the Non-Newtonian Shield. Both attacker and defender were caught off-guard. Gwen hadn’t expected the Wyvern to be capable of actually biting a semi-dome shield, while the creature had clearly not expected a Mage’s fragile mana barrier to be so impervious.

The Wyvern's head twisted awkwardly as its teeth failed to penetrate her shield. This miscalculation brought forward the awkward momentum of its body, making it stumble.

With a grace that seemed improbable for a creature of its size, the Wyvern brought its rear to bear, twisting and turning until its wing tips dug into the muddy earth, allowing him to stomp the shield with both hind legs.

CRACK!

The thunderous noise that followed was not issued from the cloud-strewn heaven. It came from a semi-trailer impact, from claws the size of Gwen’s arms raking against her double shield.

Her shield broke.

There was too much force, much too quickly, exceeding what her N-N Shield could maintain at her current tier of Abjuration. Without more complex barrier-patterns such as those employed by Whetu, her shield was only so strong against an overwhelming force.

A shield break.

She hadn’t experienced such a thing since Wanka had struck a claw through her semi-dome in Australia.

Its remaining momentum sent the Wyvern sledging into the mud and dark, though not before its lashing tail, its most deadly apparatus of bodily harm, struck her across the chest.

All the air was pressed from Gwen’s lungs at once. Her vision faded to black.

Gwen was vaguely aware that she was flying backwards. She observed a sudden shift in her bodily fluids as a sudden G-force accelerated her from zero.

Smothering rain splattered her face as a portion of her cloak disintegrated against the abrasive caress of the barbed tail, her American-made armour thankfully taking the brunt of the appendage’s scaly hooks and nooks.

The ground kissed her shoulder, setting her on fire. She rolled in the soft mud, a doll sprawling across the earth, skidding and sliding until she found herself face down in a pool of filth.

Gwen tried to cough, but her chest was aflame. All she could hear was the sound of Ariel snarling. That and the thudding rain.

“Aaaaaaaaah!” she screamed.

Not because her body was broken, but because Caliban finally delivered its payload of stolen Essence.

“Ashen Spear!”

Ayxin battered away the eldritch force with one hand, forming a protective barrier preventing Necrotic Energy from touching her body. It was a nuanced and modified version of the Abjurer’s crude shield magic.

“You cannot defeat me.” Ayxin flared her nostrils, her ivory horn glowing with unidentifiable magic. “This is my domain. I control the space here.”

Her hand felt numb. Not all of the Ashen mana had been parried.

So that was the power of the Drought God that had made Ryxi flustered. Ayxin flexed her fingers, flushing them with healing energy to purge the ash. Their eldest had been right to avoid the human Mage; if Ryxi had fallen under the blight’s influence, he would be a sitting snake awaiting slaughter.

Ayxin readied herself for another attack. The human Mage appeared flustered when she’d first forcibly pulled him into her pocket dimension, yet he had grown calm and collected very quickly.

Strangely, he hadn’t attacked her immediately. But just as she’d been about to speak, he had.

“What do you want, Ayxin?” the man asked.

Ayxin felt a sudden unease in her chest. How did the man know her name?

“The name’s Jun, Jun Song. I am also known as the Ash Bringer.”

Ash Bringer? The name brought no recollections to Ayxin’s mind.

Was it a nickname or a title? During Ayxin’s time, all Daoshi and Kenshi had officious titles.

“I am a member of the CCP. I hold the rank of captain in the PLA. I currently serve as a member of the Internal Security Bureau, holding the position of Inspect Secretary.”

Ayxin had spoken to representatives of the CCP before. They were the ones who had succeeded the dynastic rule of the clans. It had been almost five decades since she’d heard of their rebellion. Did the CCP even exist still? Were they still farmers?

The man furrowed his brows. “Now that we’re acquainted. Let’s get on with business, then. Where is my niece?”

“My brother, Golos, is entertaining her.” Ayxin was relieved that the conversation returned to a familiar setting. “Do not fret. He has been instructed to leave her alive.”

She raised both hands to show her peaceful intentions. “Skryig jillepse!”

The mist cleared, and they were now hovering above the village. Below, Golos, mongoose, spider-demon and niece engaged in a grand melee of Void and Lightning, tooth and nail.

“She is performing admirably, but Golos will have her soon,” Ayxin observed the man. “Do you yield peacefully and place yourselves under our guard?”

“And be at your mercy? I don’t think so,” Jun replied sardonically. “I suggest you let me out of here. I’ll take my niece, and we’ll peacefully retreat from your territory. You may lodge an official complaint with the local garrison.”

“Absurd!” Ayxin snapped. “Do you think you can waltz into our territory?”

“You certainly take your liberty with our lands and people,” Jun snapped back at the Dragon woman. “Look, how—"

The sound of a shield shattering interrupted her opponent’s speech. They observed Golos crushing the girl’s shield. Then she was sent flying.

“It’s over,” Ayxin sneered at the man’s arrogance. She would break his will yet. “Do you yield? Golos will make that girl wish she were never alive if you refuse. You know the depraved appetite of the Dragon-kind, do you not? Your niece appears to be a fertile female, no?”

The human warrior grimly watched as his niece skidded across the ground like a ragdoll. The girl landed shoulder first, then sledged onward for several meters before resting in the mud.

Ayxin studied Jun’s expression carefully, watching his jaws set, his eyes growing bloodier by the second. A smile touched Ayxin’s lips, flushed raw by the violence. Now was the time to push the descendent of the Drought God over the edge.

“Vataka!” With a will and a word, Ayxin brought the power of her blood to bear. Dragon fear radiated from her body, filling the limited space of her pocket dimension like a haze, thick as molasses. If Golos had been there, he would have dropped on all four knees and whimpered.

The human Mage tensed. His face grew white as ash. Good. Ayxin felt vindicated by the outcome. Now they could negotiate.

One should always negotiate from a position of power.

But the man did not kneel. “Avatar of Ash!” What answered her was a burst of Necromantic mana.

A prickle of instinctual panic struck the Dragon-kin, bone-deep and likewise born from the blood. It was the dread of desolation, the fear of destruction, an anxiety shared by all living beings.

Her opponent stood no longer as a man. He was now a humanoid fount of death.

No, not death, Ayxin realised. The sooty fire smothering the man’s physical form was worse than death. Tenebrous flashes of netherworld fire the likes of which Ayxin had never seen licked at the edge of her vision.

Her unassuming opponent had become the embodiment of eradication and extinction. In front of the terrifying visage of absolute destruction, all beings and things material could be made immaterial.

“A year from now,” Jun’s voice came across with searing intensity, sending shivers up her spine. “The Yinglong will mark the passing of his children.”

“Insolence!” Ayxin simultaneously activated the latent powers of her Draconic bloodline just as Jun delivered his threat. Instantly, her Dragon soul repressed any feeling of dread and panic.

A single stag horn sprouted from Ayxin’s ivory stump, crackling with incandescent motes of sizzling Lightning. Her pearlescent scales took on a delicate shade of ultramarine as her irises became iridescent and cruel. Her garb, complexly stitched sheets of emperor moth silk woven by Ryxi, immolated as she abandoned her orthodoxical Draconian form, sprouting feathered wings of scintillating jade shimmering with metallic citrine.

She willed herself to attack.

To Ayxin’s disbelief, her opponent proved the faster combatant. A ripple of stark-grey mana erupted from where Jun stood in a concentric ring, flaying every inch of Ayxin’s pocket dimension with the destructive embrace of Ashen obliteration. Her mind was suddenly aflame, as though her brain had ballooned twice its size and was now rebelling against her skull. She fought the agony, her Draconic constitution suppressing the pain.

The man was trying to escape!

She again called upon the bloodline of her progenitor, invoker of thunder and lightning, lord under the blue heaven, who answered the first Jade Emperor. “Kepesk!”

Incandescent sheets of lightning ionised from every direction, converging on the human warrior. If caught, Jun would become the epicentre of a hundred lightning bolts, each capable of reducing a man to cinders. No matter how powerful the man’s shield was, no matter how well he weathered the elements, Ayxin was confident her opponent would be lashed and whipped into submission.

Her vision blurred. The Ash Mage disappeared! But he hadn’t made an incantation! Ayxin spun her head, flaring her wings out with the violence of a gale. She was sure that Jun would try to close in on her, exploiting the one glaring weakness of her Misty Realm—the invoker herself.

Unlike the originators of her magic, she wasn’t a human Mage. Her physical abilities, gifted via her father’s lineage, made her capable of crushing a man’s skull with one hand. Besides, she was near-imperious to most magic. As far as Ayxin was concerned, her talent had no weakness. Only a higher-order existence could suppress her control over the pocket dimension, space she could command to shrink and expand, enveloping her enemies or ejecting them.

Her wings caught something. She instantly capitalised on her good fortune.

Ayxin’s lips curled cruelly. The Ash Mage, for all his bluster, was only human.

Then her smile faded.

“Enervation!”

The Ash-smothered Mage wasn’t sent flying. He instead held onto her wings, one in each hand. Instead of being buffeted by the force of her blow and falling to his knees, he had caught her. There was a sound of creaking sinew; the Mage’s right hand crushed the metacarpus of her right wing, while his left had snuck between her shoulder blades and was placed behind her back, against her heart.

Was it the Transformation? Did his spell strengthen its user? Or had the man been this strong all along? Father above! He could rival Golos when the Wyvern took on his brutish, humanoid form.

But Ayxin did not need words or gestures to control her magic. Dragon Sages had no such drawbacks. With her eyes, she directed the sheet of Lighting toward her assailant.

She heard a snap. Then she felt something as alien as the Ash Mage itself—pain.

“AAARRRRRGH!”

The pain was unreal because Ayxin had never sustained an injury like this. She had been raised with a silken cord, first in the Forbidden City and then by her father. The sensation was fresh and hot and so new that Ayxin wondered if it was possible to escape the torture by blacking out for a second.

At the same time, her concentration held. Her Lightning Field converged, licking the Ash Mage, gouging his body with white-hot plasma claws.

The man wasn’t finished. Her whole body suddenly grew rigid. Necrotic mana poured into her wound, into her back. With a grunt of supreme effort, Ayxin activated her Draconic blood yet again, driving back the Negative Energy, expelling it from the divine sanctuary of her body.

No! She forced her mind to focus, isolating the pain. This bastard! She would show him the power of the Yinglong’s daughter! An Avatar of Ash? How would the Mage’s human body fare against the living embodiment of Lightning itself?

She would abandon her human form entirely, a prospect she did not cherish, but there was no helping it now.

Her will focused—the Lighting converged.

Dragon-kin and Ash Mage, the two became wreathed in lightning, glowing white-hot with explosive discharges of erratic electricity.

Another bout of ash-tainted mana invaded her body, disrupting her concentration.

Ayxin felt the man’s mocking breath inches from her neck. She desired to turn her head and snap at the man’s face, though rationality dictated she would lose a mouth full of teeth as opposed to the man losing the tip of his nose.

Another explosion of plasma licked the two as they danced the waltz of death. Ayxin felt the hot lick of electricity ripping at her scales, dancing upon her and Jun’s exterior before grounding themselves like hysterical eels.

How is the human still alive? Ayxin felt herself growing weaker, her vital reserves draining. The man’s mana was becoming more and more invasive, more forceful, pushing its way into her body, his fingers dug into her broken wing, scattering multi-coloured feathers that turned to ash the moment they left her body.

His grip grew stronger.

“Impossible!” Ayxin felt her legs falter. The man pressed in on her. How could it be that she, a Dragon-kin, could be overpowered by a human Mage?

“Cease your Lightning,” a voice rang out beside her earhole. Had Ayxin been human, she would have visibly flinched. “I can’t stop the Enervation if you don’t stop your Lightning. At this point, you’re just killing yourself.”

It suddenly struck Ayxin why the man wasn’t taking damage.

The spell the man used—it was Necromancy! He wasn’t trying to invade her body with Ashen mana. He was feeding his spell with her life force, with her vitality!

A boot struck the small of her back. Ayxin fell forwards, stumbling and slipping, landing on her hands and knees. Her broken wing sent up another bout of searing pain, making her curl into a ball instinctively as she broke her fall with a roll, just as the man’s niece had been sent skittering into the mud by Golos.

Ayxin found her balance. She stood, propping herself upward.

“You want to die, be my guest,” the human stoically stated as lightning continued to bathe his Ashen form. “Three seconds and I will resume my assault.”

“One.”

Why did he let me go? Had they not been in an embrace of death, seeking mutual destruction?

Ayxin looked down and found her answer.

The girl stood up from the mud, clothes torn and armour in shreds.

“Two.”

Unharmed! The human girl was unharmed? Who was this duo? When had human Mages become so capable at physical combat?

“Thr—"

Ayxin willed away the sudden deluge of Lightning. She felt her Draconic constitution working to repair her twisted wing, restoring tissue and bone. She placed a hand awkwardly where it bent. The bone mended, the feathers regrew; her tissues reconnected.

“No wonder.” The Ash Mage chuckled. “A demi-human incapable of channelling Positive Energy would have lost their will by now. Look, I’ll meet your Master if the Lord of the Mountain insists, but…”

“But what?” Ayxin’s words emitted grudgingly. Dragons respected the strong. This man was strong. Ayxin couldn’t deny that.

“Well, I was going to say you had to let my niece go, but now we wait.”

The dark fire withdrew into the Ash Mage’s body, though Ayxin was confident it could flare up at any time.

“Wait?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “For what?”

The barbaric male tapped his feet, indicating the scene below them.

“We wait for my niece.” The Ash Mage folded his arms. A cruel smirk touched his lips.

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

Chapter twenty-five

Millstone

The mixture of slow-building agony and orgiastic rapture was exquisite, a serendipitous convergence dulling all sensation.

Gwen took advantage of her pumping adrenaline and circulated Almudj’s mana throughout her battered body, mending her beaten flesh and bruised ligaments. There was damage there, she could feel it, but at least there was no pain, and her system wasn’t in shock.

She spat out the awful taste of fish and mud from her mouth.

A dozen meters from where she’d crawled on all fours, the Wyvern tried to snap at Ariel. The mongoose proved too fast for the serpentine creature, but it couldn’t penetrate the damned thing’s armoured scales.

Her Opti-Cloak was in tatters; it hadn’t been built to withstand the abrasion delivered by a Thunder Wyvern’s barbed tail. Her sneak suit had been torn from the collar down to her left breast, holding together only under cross-sectional straps and slings.

Quickly, she tied the tattered cloak over the left side of her body. Unlike the Wyvern, she would find fighting semi-disrobed infinitely distracting.

Her opponent’s form was barely distinct in the downpour. The rain hid all the potential damage her spells might have caused, giving Gwen imperfect knowledge of how to proceed.

“Uncle Jun?” she called out.

Nothing. No answer but the rain and the low rumbling of swelling thunder overhead.

The rainwater stung her eyes and ran into her suit’s torn collar, making it clammy and uncomfortable. Uncle Jun had to be all right. She had to believe that. He was the Hero of the Northern Front, right? He was the fucking Ash Bringer. No way would he fall, just like that.

With the fire in her head put out by the Wyvern and doused by the rain, she decided to have faith in Jun. If the Dragon-kin had such means, they would have unconditionally ruled this region, usurping the verdant paradise of Suzhou and Hangzhou with impunity.

If so, there was only one thing left to do. She had to mangle this Wyvern, then force its owner to confront her. She could hold it hostage. Once Jun was back, he would know what to do.

Her lips formed a grim, thin line. “Caliban!”

Caliban leapt from the rubble, revitalised by Gwen’s and its internal stores.

“MAGGOT WITH WINGS!” Gwen howled, utilising the projected voice of her Illusion talent to penetrate the rain. “COME ON! I’ll MAKE A VEST OUT OF YOU YET!”

Her cat-calling caught the Wyvern’s attention. “Si siofmea wux loreata!” it snarled. “Nomeno ui gethrisjir kes qe diwhaf!”

Gwen knew she couldn’t tank the bloody thing. It was big and it was fast, not to mention too strong for her shield. She would have to kite it around the village and wear it down. If one Void Bolt wasn’t enough, how about twenty? How about a hundred? So long as she could keep her vitals up, she was confident she could mill it down to the stumps. She had her Conjured Storm up, she had her Warding Bolt. It was just a matter of time.

As for her vitality and mana…

Gwen’s chest grew dark and cold, her aura faded to pitch as the Void inundated her body. There was a whole damned village there. How tough could the flying fucker be?

Ayxin pursed her lips.

“A girl’s gotta eat,” the Ash Mage’s nonsensical inference made her heart skip a beat.

“What is that girl?” Ayxin furrowed her scaly brows. “Is she human?”

“That’s not for you to know,” Jun answered. “Though if she had died just now, I can guarantee that two of your three peaks would have ceased to exist. One destroyed by me and another by her ward in Sydney. Lucky you then, huh?"

Ayxin glared at her quarry. She regretted underestimating the human Mage. The damned human was at least her equal. He reminded her of the Elders in her long-perished clan. They too, had been powerful beyond belief, but unlike her, they’d grown old, their power had waned, and then they’d died.

Their will had seemed insurmountable when they’d sent Ayxin away to meet her maker. Ayxin vaguely recalled that when her mother had died, she had wanted to visit vengeance upon her maternal clan. But in the end, her zealous ambition was laughable. Before she’d even matured into her Draconic powers, her enemies had died of old age, consumed by the shift of dynastic power, and had become dust in the wake of history. How fragile these humans were! How transient their mark on the world! How bright and brief was the candle of man?

"We can continue if you like." The Mage shrugged, utterly relaxed now that his niece was worse for wear but otherwise unharmed.

Ayxin wasn't the combative kind. Unsure of how to proceed, she turned her attention to the battle beneath them. She would dispel the Misty Realm and expel both of them if need be, though the chant would require significant concentration.

Below them, Golos charged the girl again.

Her boisterous brother better not play the fool now of all times. The uncertainty oppressed her, stifling her breath. She was confident she could subdue the Ash Mage, though Ayxin was ashamed to admit the subjugation cost was higher than she was willing to pay.

"Suit yourself." Her opponent scratched his head. For some reason, the man's gaze made her uncomfortable. The cloak he had been wearing had been disintegrated by her Lightning, though his body armour remained intact.

The Mage coughed. Curiously, he retrieved a crude linen garb from his ring. It was large enough to cover the upper and lower body.

"Look, Miss Ayxin. Mr Ayxin? I know you're a talking, walking lizard, but how about putting something on?"

Ayxin looked down. Her destructive melee against the human Mage had shredded the silken garb that Ryxi had woven for her. It should have been durable enough to resist elemental damage, though not, as it appeared, the Negative Energy fire.

The Draconic side of her couldn't care less. Her body was a wonder of natural beauty. Who wouldn't be proud to be a descendant of a Dragon with scales to show for it?

Her human side screamed blue murder.

Ayxin rigidly turned halfway away from the Ash Mage, hiding her profile.

She couldn't think of an appropriate curse in Draconic. Nor was she in possession of another item of clothing.

Below, the duel intensified.

Golos was surprised by his vehemence. There was something in the air that made him oddly stimulated.

His first attack had been a ground assault, covering the space with his powerful legs, guiding his strike with perfect poise, balanced by a pair of prideful wings and delivered via his thick, muscular neck.

One snap of his jaws and the girl would be bereft of a limb. Then he could take his time.

He was confident because the Mages he had fought in the past had all been glass cannons. This female, however, had both powerful shielding and offensive magic, which confused Golos. She appeared to possess the same blessing of Lightning that he had. More worryingly, the girl wielded a Negative-aligned power potent enough to penetrate his resistance.

It was with this foul element that she’d tarnished his scales.

The very notion of such an idea of being wounded by a female he could eat or mount at his pleasure was the greatest insult. He had to call upon his father's constitution to resist the painful permeation of the tenebrous matter into his otherwise impervious Draconic body.

Then there was the matter of the two strange beasts that accompanied the female.

The first was an existentially inconsequent rat twice the size of one of Ryxi's goats. It couldn't touch Golos, but it was absurdly agile. For Golos, the effort he had to expend to catch the thing was more troublesome than just ignoring it.

As for the second creature, Golos had sensed a tingle in his thirty-foot spine when it had made a horrendous noise and charged him. He had experienced a strange sensation of falling, followed by the urgency one felt when urination was imminent. Alarmed, he’d dealt with it more seriously than he would have liked to admit. It was just as well that the insectile thing was as fragile as glass. Father knows what would have happened if it had latched onto him.

According to Ryxi, that thing had a prehensile penis with teeth.

The girl was screaming at him now. "I'LL MAKE A VEST OUT OF YOU YET!"

Golos had thought the girl had perished. It wasn't every day he was pleasantly surprised.

"I thought you died!" he roared with glee, speaking in Draconic. He saw no reason to talk to the girl in the tongue of her apish ancestors. "This is going to be fun."

If the girl could survive a strike from his tail, it must mean she was immensely durable at taking abuse. He had been worried earlier, as Ayxin had explicitly stated that Father wanted the girl alive. Now that the human female was proving to be such a good sport, his blood boiled. After the interlopers met with their father, he would ask for her as a reward. If he could populate the place with demi-Ayxins, he could happily vex his half-sibling.

WHOMP!

With a single sweep of his wings, Golos lifted into the air. If a ground assault had proved too weak to hinder the girl, then an aerial one would have to do. A pinpoint dive was a force multiplier, a talent every Wyvern mastered. Even Ruxin, the purest of Father's blood-spawns, could be brought low by a well-aimed dive bomb.

But first, a greeting for the girl was in order.

Golos opened his jaws and let loose a line of Lightning that cut through the rain, vaporising water droplets and carving a channel into the earth.

"Dimension Door!"

The female teleported.

Golos tried to sense the girl's elemental aura. Previously, she had blazed like a thunder-struck Dragon Pine. Disappointingly, he found none. The strange dark energy she had emitted must be shielding her presence.

"Void Bolt!"

Another splash of corrosive muck struck his flank, removing yet more scales and soaking into his skin.

There! He caught a glimpse of the sorceress. She was using a spell to hide her presence, taking advantage of the darkness brought by the storm.

The sorceress was covered from head to toe in the same dark substance she had used to attack him, hissing as the rain struck. Were it not for Golos's highly developed prey sense, he would have missed the slim silhouette shifting between the Merfolk's buildings.

"ROAR!" A thunderous shockwave, concentrated into a conic blast, flattened the building behind which the Mage took cover.

There was a splash of ink as his breath attack struck.

But the girl was gone.

Curses! Golos flapped his wings. The damned ape sure could hide.

From up on high, the demi-Dragon surveyed his domain. His Merfolk livestock had begun fleeing in droves as soon as their combat had begun, elevating chaos into full-blown anarchy. The pelting rain did not impact Golos's line of sight. Still, it diminished the efficacy of his kinesthetic vision, which specialised in hunting smaller creatures, especially in hot pursuit.

A commotion caught Golos's eyes. The spiderling! It was alive, and it was hunting down the Merfolk.

Golos scoffed. What use would the slaughter of useless eel men accomplish? He could kill them by the dozen any given day, a hundred even. Once, he’d eaten one with golden, shimmering scales, believing she would taste better. While not as good as Ryxi's carp, the eels possessed a fatty but delicate taste; they were one of Golos's go-to snacks.

"SCREE!"

The spider turned itself inside-out, then consumed one of the Merfolk. Others fleeing beside it fell to their knees and began convulsing and retching.

"Void Bolt!"

Before Golos could register what the thing was doing, another assault struck his right wing. The sudden pain spreading across his dactylopatagium felt like stinging ice. Golos inspected his limb for damage and noted that several of his most precious feathers, the likeness of which father possessed, were gone.

"DISGRACE!" He felt his head aflame with thunderous rage. The girl was spitting in his face. Her attack was an insult to their sacred progenitor!

"Ball Lightning!"

Three blasts of enormously destructive lightning cascaded off his breast, chipping a few scales and bruising his flesh.

With another mighty roar, the Wyvern dipped below, the wind pressure of his dive so great that nearby huts were sent rolling, their roofs blasted open by the jet stream of Golos’s passing.

A flash of lightning lit up the darkened gorge with a hysterical light.

Crash!

There were two sources of crashing cacophony. The first was the rumbling storm sundering the valley with ear-splitting sound. The second was Golos, smashing into huts and Merfolks, flattening shelters and storehouses as he snapped at the space where the spell emanated, where he could still taste the girl's lingering Lightning aura.

Instead, he was greeted by a fleeing mongoose. "EE-ee!"

BANG!

A blast of light and sound disorientated Golos for a mere tenth of a second, but it was enough for the mongoose to escape.

Where is the female? Golos swung his tail in a wide arc and cleared a whole row of huts, sending a cloud of dust, debris and Merfolk. All around him, his people begged him for mercy in their grotesque fish-speak.

"COME OUT, COWARD!"

Golos had lowered himself to speak the human tongue. His frustration knew no bounds!

"Void Orb!"

The voice came from further than Golos had expected. As he lifted into the air, another three blasts of the dark matter struck his leg, chest and neck. More precious scales disappeared from his dermis. Golo’s brain was white-hot, for his once beautifully patterned scales now resembled the fur of an eclectically shaven cat.

"ROAR!" Another thunder blast, this time catching the culprit.

A half-dome shield foiled Golos's hopes, then the girl was gone again. He could do nothing else but lift into the air, searching for yet another opportunity.

There!

Golos caught the silhouette and began his dive. This time he would not stop until everything within range and beyond was ploughed and annihilated!

"Lightning Sphere!"

The expansion of a Lightning-charged explosion intercepted the trajectory of his flight.

WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? The Wyvern felt as though he was going insane. Was the girl an Illusionist? Was he trapped in an illusion? Ryxi could weave illusions, but Golos never fell for those. Was this girl more adept than even a scion of their father?

Before he could pivot and turn, he was struck again.

"Void Sphere!"

WHAT? Golos felt his world go dark as a blast erupted right in front of his face, consuming his head.

Instinctively, his scaly lids protected his eyes. The Wyvern quickly channelled vitality and Lightning, protecting his sensory organs, emerging better than he had expected from the exchange.

The darkness ended. Golos opened his eyes. Collision with a hut was imminent.

"GARRRGH!"

Golos smashed head-first into the hut, completely demolishing the exterior structure. Something must have been hiding inside because he heard bone crunch and blood smell. From the stink of crushed roe, he knew it not to be the human female.

CURSES! Golos whipped his neck back and forth, clearing the space around him. WHERE IS SHE NOW?

"Your pet's not doing so well," Jun taunted the Dragon Mage.

"Golos is my half-brother," the Dragon woman answered.

Jun regarded the absurd sight of a Draconian wearing a pink t-shirt with an anthropomorphic cat at the front with the words, "Hello Kitty". He had bought it for Gwen after the salesperson promised his niece would love it.

However, when he’d seen her usual fashion, he’d realised the design was for far younger girls.

Would Ayxin try to murder him if he took a lumen pic? The boys at the barracks would never believe such a thing. But then again, few would believe he was face-to-face with a Dragon Mage.

Dragon Mage was the designation the PLA had for Draconic demi-humans who could use human magic. From her appearance and Spellcraft, the stupendously garbed Draconian must possess human blood within her, or else how she could possibly manifest this Misty Realm of hers?

Spatial magic was a lost art, or perhaps, some would say, a deliberately forgotten art. These days, Enchanters could recreate its effects with mandalas and glyphs, but the school itself no longer existed, at least not in the sense of a curriculum.

He eyed the Draconian as she squirmed, alarmed by the battle below. Gwen was doing very well, using mobility and cover and her Familiars as distractions. The two-legged Wyvern might be impervious to her spells, but as long as she could keep her vitality up, it was a matter of time.

As for his Hello Kitty companion, he had heard of Ayxin. She had received an honourable mention in the archives. What he hadn’t expected was that she used human Spellcraft. It meant the demi-human had been around since before Mao's Great Revolution in the forties, before the fall of the Qing Dynasty.

The Dragon woman caught him staring. Her castigating expression amused him; it wasn't every day you pissed off the equivalent of a demi-goddess. From what he could discern, she could use Lightning magic innately with impunity and near-limitless capacity, and she had access to Spatial Magic. Her body possessed Draconic constitution, meaning she could live for millennia, and she was highly intelligent.

If she had been a Mage, the Towers would be grooming her to be a Magi. But as she was a demi-human, he should be seriously considering killing her. But neither of them had chosen that path because mutually-assured destruction was overrated.

Instead, they stood in the space of her Misty Realm and watched the battle below. Is it curiosity? Jun wondered. Or was it that they both lacked the necessary bloodlust for senseless victories? He had known peaceful demi-humans, but Dragon-kin seldom counted amongst that number. Perhaps this Ayxin was a sentimentalist? One for whom violence was the means and not the end?

If so, he was in luck. Each second he maintained his Ashen Avatar, the spell set his soul ablaze. All these years, he had paid for it with the Essence from his amulet. Sadly, his reserve wasn't infinite.

Either way, pending the outcome below, he would have to coax her into diplomacy. With words… or with dark fire.

Falling rain turned to steam against Golos's obliterated dermis. His once proud armour was wounded, cracked and corroded.

The running streams of water cooled him—a pleasant sensation amid the agony. He would normally enjoy such a thing, but not so now.

Instinctively, he knew that his pretty plumagege, those rare ornaments that had once framed his skull like a lion's mane, like the ones Father wore, was gone.

The exchange had gone on for almost half an hour, with his attacks missing the girl every time. During their last dozen melees, he hadn't even bothered trying to spot her. He merely hovered, demoralised and stunned by the turn of events, tanking her attacks until he was sure of her whereabouts.

But he was wrong. The girl stayed just ahead of him, again and again.

It was madness! Did the girl have an infinite mana pool? He was being ground down by monotony and indifference! The ceaseless impediment was making him question his sanity. Frustration, loathing, impotent anger. He couldn't flee, he couldn't lose and he couldn't win.

The Wyvern preferred to be beaten to the ground. At least then there would be an end to the misery.

As Golos surveyed the desolated village, half-strewn with corpses of Merfolk, the female Mageling was still nowhere to be seen.

FINE! Golos congratulated his opponent. He would give her what she wanted.

With a flap of his leathery wings, he took flight until he was above the gorge.

If the girl wanted to play the coward, he would destroy everything. From this day forth, this region would be nought but shattered stone, a memory of what once was.

Riding the currents surrounding the storm, Golos found a spot to hover that allowed him the necessary space to manifest one of Father's most destructive abilities.

There was no name for the power he was about to employ. Golos knew it only to be the manifestation of his father's wrath. He would call upon heaven, offering his vitality and spirit to the skies, then call down a sweeping deluge of thunder and lightning.

That in itself would not be enough, of course.

Golos grinned, his cracked and bleeding reptilian lips forming a toothy curl.

The thunder and lightning would destroy the crags, the cliffs, the trees and the granite—the very substance that formed Huangshan. The falling debris would build momentum until a flash flood of logs, rubble, granite, and white water consumed the entire valley.

Then the girl would have to emerge. That, or die below.

Once above, Golos unfurled his once magnificent wings, now torn and spattered with blighted scales, bloody membranes, and feather stumps.

The winds changed. The air began to form a vortex. The already dark sky became lightless, plunging the gorge into a deep pitch.

As his assault intensified, Golos noticed a little green mote below. It grew brighter, then brighter again.

It was coming closer.

Golos felt his muscles tense. His vertebrae trembled. What is this feeling? It was as though Father was watching!

He glanced about him, bewildered, wondering if the Yinglong's all-seeing eye would suddenly appear and scold him.

The green silhouette piercing the darkness became fully visible as it came closer. It had been scaling the cliff face at a terrific speed.

A serpentine form. Four limbs. Two long, protruding horns crackling with emerald energy.

A Kirin? Golos's jaws hung open. No divine beast could look as ridiculous as that thing. It appeared almost like that mongoose he had encountered below.

But that creature couldn't fly. And this creature swam through the air, albeit with its paws waddling like a dog paddling through the water.

Golos wondered if the world had gone daft. He was exhausted, and the Wyvern had taken at least three dozen bolts of both elements to various parts of his body. The damned sorceress and her cowardice had sapped his patience and sanity.

Is it a Kirin, then?

Its aura was palpable. Old was the impression Golos received. Older than anything he had ever seen or felt, perhaps older than Father. Was it an emissary from the Great Mount?

"Lord Kirin?" Golos asked as the creature finally managed to lift itself to his eye level. "Why do you visit us at this hour?"

The Kirin opened its mouth to deliver its edict…

"EE! EE! EE!"

A Barbanginy Elemental Sphere exploded in Golos's face, illuminating the gorge, the heavens, and the cliffs, painting the cumulonimbus formation above in a blinding blast of viridescent light. The explosion expanded violently, engulfing Golos's body, then erupted again as a supernova, scattering the clouds above.

The rolling thunder could be heard as far as the horizon.

From within a shroud of superheated steam, Golos fell. A Draconic shooting star, fallen from heaven.

Chapter twenty-six

Calamity Gwen

STUPID GOLOS!

Ayxin hadn’t known panic in as long as she could recall, not since she had been a human girl trying to awaken her wyrmling powers.

An Ashen Bolt flew past her face.

“What are you?" Ayxin was in the middle of dispelling Misty Realm when the Ash Mage disrupted her incantation. The bolt had been too weak to harm her but enough for her to flinch. "Don't you want to leave?"

"Not right now." The man grinned. "Give it time."

"I am getting us out of here!" Ayxin felt her ire smoulder like coal. "Golos is subdued. Your niece is safe. Father had no desire to maim you; he said he wished to hold an audience."

"That's hardly fair on the girl." The Ash Mage became once again cloaked in dark fire. "You weren't going to let me out to help my niece, no? Why should I let you out to help your brother?"

"You…" Ayxin wasn't sure how to respond. "You insolent, arrogant ape!"

A blast of lightning struck the Mage, more purposeful than harmful. He took it unflinchingly.

"I know it's not fair, but I took the opportunity to inject a Greater Resist Elements potion," the man explained. He seemed amused by her frustration. "You've paid too much attention to the fight. I could have sneak-attacked you a dozen times over. Miss Ayxin, you don't get much fighting up on these mountains, do you? Nice and peaceful up here, no? Are you not getting enough action around here?"

"I get enough!" Ayxin's face would have flushed if she had possessed the soft dermis of her human form. As she was, her Draconian scales merely bristled.

"Tell me, how old is that Wyvern? Would he leave behind a core? I need to be down there for the core to be preserved. The more powerful a creature gets, the more likely the Core shatters on death, unless he's over a century or two. Which is it?"

Ayxin felt her throat choke with rage. "Do you have a Core? A half-human like you?"

Dragons were warm-blooded creatures. Even so, Ayxin felt her blood run cold.

Below, the girl was approaching the fallen Wyvern, her eyes glowering with murderous intent.

"Well, I am not going to stop you if you want to save Golos. As I said, I need to be present for Gwen to retrieve your brother's core. So if you're happy to let us out, go ahead. I am just as happy to duke it outside."

"If she kills him, I will destroy you and your niece," Ayxin spat.

"No, you will not," the man retorted in an almost friendly manner. Such was his confidence. "You're a powerful being, sure. But your combat experience is laughable. You've never fought a contest of life or death, ever."

Ayxin trembled with frustration. Her hands wrung the hem of her Hello Kitty t-shirt. WHERE THE HELL HAS RYXI GONE?

She could guess. Their eldest was either hiding somewhere, shivering with fright. Or hiding somewhere, giggling with glee at Golos's abuse.

"So, what will it be?"

Was the Mage right? Could he be bluffing? More importantly, dared she test his hypothesis?

“Either way, the fight’s over.” The Ash Mage pointed to the scene below. “Gwen’s getting ready to eat."

Gwen watched the Wyvern fall from the sky.

Her Draconic vitality was spent. A dozen tier V spells, two dozen tier IV attacks, and an endless number of Void Bolts and Dimension Doors had drained her reserves. Her head throbbed and her brain felt inflamed; the mental drain from spell fatigue was tremendous.

When she tried to breathe, her chest ached. Without the Draconic vitality, she could not sustain the intensity of the Void mana ravaging her body, much less the injury she had sustained. Even walking the distance to engage the Wyvern made her breath rip out in rags. No matter how hard she gasped, she couldn’t get enough air.

Additionally, she felt ravenous despite a sumptuous feast of two dozen Merfolk. Given a choice, Gwen would have chosen the warriors, had the males not been the first to flee. Unluckily for both her and her victims, only the females and the elvers were left.

But she couldn't afford the sentimentality now. Her body was vitality-poor, and beggars couldn't be choosers.

The final choice of expending her Almudj Essence had been a significant gamble. Without the Rainbow Serpent's breath of life, she couldn't use the Void variety of Dimension Door without corrupting her constitution.

The Wyvern had flew out of range to launch a massive attack. The downpour had soaked the gorge. Even from a diminished vantage point, Gwen could see what the brutish Wyvern was trying to accomplish.

Therefore, her gambit involved feeding Ariel all of her Essence, allowing it to climb the cliffs until it was within a hundred meters of the Wyvern. From there, Ariel could launch a volley of positive-charge Lightning Orbs that would hopefully disrupt the Wyvern's ultimate attack.

Then Ariel exceeded all of her expectations.

After Almudj's altered Essence had infused her Familiar, it lifted into the air, growing to multiple times its standard size. Its Eland horns, two twisted spirals, grew large and protruding, splitting into stag horns. Her mongoose Marten's mammalian face likewise distended, taking on a strange Draconic shape.

When Ariel furthermore levitated by dog-paddling through the air, Gwen had reach an epiphany; the sort one gained when moments away from extinction. Her intuition was right—and victory was now hers to lose.

"Enhance Constitution!" To remain upright was the best Gwen could manage for now.

SPLOSH!

For all its terror and bluster, the Wyvern landed with a comical splat, cushioned by the soft mud. Gwen had hoped that, like in the movies, it would fall on pailings or spikes, skewering itself. Real life, it seemed, seldom provided such serendipitous clichés.

Elsewhere, Caliban continued the hunt.

When the Wyvern did not move from its muddy crater, Gwen took the liberty of waiting until she was jolted by a surge of meagre vitality from an eel woman before she approached the great beast.

"Caliban! Ariel! On me!"

The three of them converged.

Twenty meters from the Wyvern, it suddenly twisted its head in a last-ditch effort, letting loose a clap of thunderous air.

Gwen's Non-Newtonian Shield manifested instantly with a speed that would have made a Master Abjurer applaud. Her barrier weathered the blast without strain, splitting the palpable force in twain. Around her semi-dome, a V-shape, formed in the muddy ditch, then sloshed inwards as the breath faded.

"Where's Uncle Jun?" Gwen stated the first thing on her mind, enhanced by her Illusion.

The Wyvern regarded her with fierce eyes. two blue-white orbs split with dark slits. Its maw snapped; just one of its fangs was the size of her forearm.

"You will never see him again. Ayxin has taken care of him," the Wyvern laughed cruelly as its body convulsed. It tried to rise.

"So you do speak my language." Gwen's nostrils flared, a block of icy despair engendering in her bosom at the Wyvern's boast. The rain ran from her pallid face in clear streaks, washing away the mud and grime. Her fist clenched.

"Dark Tentacles!"

Gwen’s lightning aura dimmed as vitality from her final Merfolk drained into her Conjuration staple. Four writhing tentacles wrapped around the Wyvern's neck and wings, pinning it to the ground. Where the dark matter touched its scales, it scorched the skin and ate into its hide. A tiny trickle of vitality began to feed into Gwen, far from sufficient to keep her standing. The Wyvern's natural resistance was beyond her Affinity and her tier of magic.

"GNNNARGN!" the Wyvern howled. "BITCH! I'll mount you! I'll skewer you!"

"I hope you'll generate a sizeable core." Gwen's voice lost all emotion at the threat of violence, growing hollow and cruel through the cascading rain. "Caliban!"

Caliban skittered toward the Wyvern. The Wyvern writhed and struggled, dangerously whipping its tail.

Gwen materialised two healing injectors and jammed them into her thigh. She was well past the limit for alchemical fatigue, but every mote of Positive Energy helped.

"Dark Tentacles! Lightning Tentacles!"

Her guts felt hollow and emptied. Against the dark leather of her armour, she appeared almost like a Wraith.

Caliban! She commanded her pet. Yum yums!

Her spiderling skittered beside the Wyvern and struck at its sides with its forelegs. Despite striking sparks, it couldn't penetrate the leather. The difference in tiers was too great.

"You cannot get past my armour. Your monster is worthless," the Wyvern mocked her. "When I recover, I am going to tear you apart!"

Gwen parted her lips to deliver a riposte. Alarmingly, she realised that her consciousness was waning. Her sneak suit was torn; the water ingress had lowered her body temperature significantly. With her vitality running on fumes, she was likely coming down with hypothermia.

Her tentacles tightened. The Wyvern chuckled arrogantly. She had to finish this soon; the Wyvern grew stronger by the minute.

"You probably have no idea what I am talking about, but once, I watched a movie called Stalingrad where these Germans had to fight tanks. They couldn't get through the armour, so they had to hide and stick explosives onto the tank's engine blocks, jamming sticky bombs into exhausts."

Golos glared, its eyes uncomprehending. The rain was clearing up.

"Anyway—Caliban!"

Gwen commanded her spider to revert to its serpent form, long and sleek, torpedo-headed, translucent and obsidian. Within its carapace, purple muscles and sinews writhed like worms.

"Enter from its anus."

The rain stopped. The Wyvern remained as still as a Draconic statue, as if making itself appear as a rock. It was because rocks, for all intents and purposes, lacked an anus.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban began to move.

"MMMMM! GHMMM! GGGGGMNNNNNNN!" The Wyvern was in a frenzy now. It managed to open its maw, forcing apart the tentacles in an adrenaline-fuelled rush of teeth-gnashing, eye-twirling desperation.

"YOU UNCLE IS ALIVE. Ayxin has him! We were told not to kill either of you!”

"Too late, fucker!" Gwen willed Caliban to hurry the fuck up. Her body was a hot mess; she doubled over in pain and could barely breathe. Once she lost consciousness, there was no telling what this half-Dragon-half-maggot would do to her. "You wanna live? Give me Uncle Jun now! Caliban, get the fuck in there!"

"NOOOO! GGNGGNNMMM!"

"I WANT ITS CORE!"

She fell forward. A pair of arms took her by the waist and picked her half-flailing, half-wrecked body up from the ground.

Shit, Gwen immediately regretted her grandstanding. Her mind was a chaotic mess of shell-shocked noise and sound. Reinforcements for the Wyvern? She needed another vitality injection ASAP. Caliban, hurry the fuck up!

She spun, her backhand striking a human face.

"Gwen, calm yourself." The familiar face had a five-fingered mark over the right cheek. "It's over. You're safe now."

"Uncle Jun?" Gwen blurted out.

The man was smiling, albeit awkwardly.

"UNCLE JUN!" A cathartic utterance exploded from her lips. Her knees folded. Before she struck the mud, her uncle's hands caught her, one arm wrapped around her knees, while another first slid around her waist. The next moment, she was lifted from the ground and cradled like a child.

"I am glad you're okay." Jun held onto her tightly. "There's no need to keep fighting. Miss Ayxin and I have arrived at a compromise."

Over? How could it be over just like that? Gwen's mind was immediately suspicious. Uncle Jun would never spare the demi-humans. They were harvesting cores, for fuck's sake. Why would the Dragon-kin negotiate now?

Was she in a delusion? Is this an Illusion?

"AYXIN!" A screeching voice cried out beside them in the human tongue. "TELL HER TO RETRIEVE HER THING! IT IS INVADING MY G-GUTS!"

Ah, Gwen thought. Now that isn't an illusion.

"Lady Song," a woman's voice sounded beside her. "Do you mind retracting your creature from my brother's anu… insides? Your uncle and I have agreed to negotiate with my father."

"Gwen, do as the lady says." Her uncle's voice was the same low and assuring tone she'd heard all week, certifying the authenticity of the man who now held her. "Do it now; else we'll seriously be in trouble."

"Okay." Tension drained from Gwen's body in torrents. A horrid fire erupted over her right lumbar and solar plexus.

“Caliban… Ariel…”

Gwen's head rolled against her uncle's bicep, free-falling into uncertain darkness.

Round and round the corroboree went, circles within circles.

She was there, amidst the ring, moving her body wildly, a Migloo ghost swaying to the beat of the thumping cadence. Sweat trickled off her chin, soaking into the body paint. Below, the earth clung to her thighs, covering her feet and warming her sole. Faster and faster they went, following the pace set by the clapstick.

"Kapi! Kapi! Kapi!"

The material world became less defined. The figures blended into one space. The rumbling of distant thunder joined the didjeridu. Above, the snare-drum sibilance of wind-tossed blood gums splattered dewdrops over the frenzied figures below.

She was in the middle, singing the Snake, inducing the tempest. Its waters came from the oldest place, Uluru, from a hole where all the world's waters originated. That was its home, the cheeky snake, the Old One who came when called by the singing, pleased by its sound and rhythm.

When the snake spoke, its voice filled every crevice in her head.

"KIN!"

Gwen opened her eyes, her irises adjusting to the brightness. The scent of hibiscus was heavy in the air. There was also the melody of a gentle guzheng, adding to the ambience.

She was floating. Don't panic, she told herself. A dungeon does not smell like a five-star day spa at the Shangri-la.

Slowly, her pupils focused. Indeed, she was in a spa.

Everything was white. Alabaster walls, ivory floors, porcelain pillars. Even the mineral-rich bathwater was white and milky. On the ceiling was a carved fresco, a scene of women bathing. The water was warm and buoyant, and pink-lilac hibiscus petals were floating here and there. Amongst the visage of naked women, there was a Dragon with wings.

Shit. That can't be good. Was she imprisoned in a Draconic seraglio?

Something was slithering up her thighs and caressing her toes. Her eyes scanned the tranquil pool. Was there something in here with her? It had felt like a hand or at least an appendage. Could it be a woman? A man? A fish-man-woman?

Another tactile sensation, indistinct, rubbed her shoulders, kneading her neck. The richly mineralised water lapped between her breasts. As more of her faculties returned, Gwen realised strange hands were in the water, massaging her calves.

The massage felt good. Very good.

As a long-time patron of her Swiss masseuse, she could differentiate between a hydro-massage and an assault. It was just that the disembodied experience was creepy as anything.

Carefully, she channelled a mote of Almudj's Essence through her body and found that she was in perfect health. Not as hale as her halcyon days of Draconic constitution, but as hale as could be for a woman who had gone vis-a-vis with a Wyvern.

"Don't fret. Those are Water Elementals," a soft voice emitted from behind Gwen.

Gwen slowly turned her head. A woman was there. Or a man, she couldn't tell. She had rarely seen anyone so androgynous.

He or she had a perfectly symmetrical face, Asian, but mixed with something unfathomable. Her face, an aesthetic masterpiece, was angular but not sharp, long but not intimidating, masculine but not oppressive, and feminine but not delicate.

"You are…" Gwen scanned her memories. "Ayxin?"

The being nodded.

"This is my human form." Ayxin followed her eyes, arriving at her chest. Indeed, there was a gentle swelling there. The woman's chest was barely noticeable, much less protrusive. Her waist as well was slender but not waspish. Some features hinted at her inhumanity. She had a small horn jutting from her forehead. Her hair, which fell to her waist, was silvery platinum.

Her eyes were the most obvious giveaway. They were impossibly blue, speckled with snow, possessing a single slit in place of a round pupil.

"Are you finished with the healing pool?" the woman enquired impatiently.

Gwen had never bathed in public, much less in an open hall with Water Elemental masseuses and a Draconic voyeur. When it was clear that Ayxin had no idea what privacy entailed, she steeled herself and lifted herself from the water, streaming milky minerals over her porcelain skin.

One of the formless Water Elementals accosted her for the final time.

When it departed, her skin and hair were bone-dry. "Convenient," Gwen remarked.

The room was a little chilly. "Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"Do you not have any in your item ring?"

Gwen turned away to mask her faux pas. Of course, she had her rings. If the Contingency Ring had been forcibly removed, she would have Teleported to Shanghai by now, perhaps in the nude.

Amazed she was still being watched, Gwen grudgingly materialised intimates and slipped on her bra and panties.

"May I see one of those?" The Dragon woman appeared interested in her briefs. Gwen wordlessly handed over a spare, a mundane pair constructed of fine cotton, wondering if the Chinese had worn briefs a century ago.

While Ayxin hefted the garb, inspecting its every detail, Gwen slipped on a porcelain-pattern Mandarin dress, seeing that whoever ruled this place had a craving for white and blue. She then produced her wedge sandals, hoping the cork would soften her footfalls and make walking on the granite less conspicuous.

"Is there a mirror here?" Gwen asked.

The Dragon-kin stared at Gwen's shoes intently as she muttered a word Gwen couldn't even begin to pronounce. In the next moment, one of the Water Elementals formed into what could only be described as a reflective pool suspended in mid-air.

"Thanks, love."

"I am not your friend, nor your love."

"Okay." Gwen tipped her eyes with wings and applied a pink-petal gloss to her lips. She had a pretty good idea what their next meeting would entail and showing up to meet the mountain's owner looking like a pale, colourless undead certainly wouldn't do.

"Can I see those?"

Gwen passed over the makeup kit.

"Those shoes, they look uncomfortable, and yet…"

Gwen passed over a spare pair of platform pumps.

"Why does that dress cover so much of your body? Is it religious garb?"

Gwen gave the woman a new dress she hadn't yet worn—a white and floral number that reached the knees. If anything, Gwen had never worn it because she felt it was a little immodest. When she regarded Ayxin, however, she realised the Dragon lady was wearing a single layer of silk, like a kimono, and nothing underneath. She wasn't leaving much to the imagination.

The Dragon woman held her treasures thoughtfully. "Thank you for the gifts. Come, your uncle awaits."

Thank you for what now? Gwen blinked. Those are my clothes. I bought them with my money.

But the woman was already walking away. Gwen felt a strong dislike for this Ayxin.

"Uncle Jun!"

Gwen stifled the desire to run to her uncle as they entered a grand hall with an impossibly tall ceiling. The carved architecture was seamless, polished with a blinding gleam that made orientating one's eyes a chore. A sort of sanctified music played as they walked, but after a pillar or two, Gwen realised it was the wind playing through the vaulted roof, creating a gentle echo that resembled voices in prayer.

Her uncle was still garbed in his sneak suit. His equipment appeared relatively unharmed, unlike her own, though his Optic Cloak was missing.

What was surprising, however, was that they weren't convened in a throne room. Instead, the white palaces' corridors led to an outdoor garden overlooking the breathtaking view of Huangshan.

Even more incredibly, Gwen acknowledged from the dozen or so gates in view that this was the exit.

That's it? What had happened to the Yinglong kicking their asses? Where was her grand meeting? She’d had a whole speech in her head!

"Uncle?"

Her uncle assured her that, indeed, they were leaving. Gwen turned to Ayxin, whose demeanour was as unwelcoming as ever.

"Your uncle will explain, child." The Dragon-kin pointed toward the descending stairs. "You must leave now. The Sacred Mount is not for the likes of humankind, vessel or otherwise. Your presence here has already taxed my father's generosity and sullied the White Jade Hall."

"Gwen, let's go." Jun reached out to Gwen, taking her fingers in his palm. "I'll explain later."

The trio flew through the mountain range, taking in its majesty.

Below them, above them, beside them, Huangshan's magnificence revealed itself as fog and mist parted, revealing thousand-year-old life-size bonsais contorting from cliff-sides and crags. An occasional waterfall added to the breathtaking scenery, cascading until the stream turned to vapour, fuelling the mystic realm below.

With Ayxin leading the two, the conversation was kept strictly to business.

Gwen still couldn't believe they were leaving just like that. What about all the animals they’d hunted? That talking Pangolin? The Wyvern that she’d defeated?

"Miss Ayxin," Gwen ventured an enquiry. "The Lord of the Mount has forgiven our transgression?"

Ayxin scoffed. "Father's interest in worldly matters has significantly diminished as he has grown ever wiser with age," the Dragon-kin replied cryptically. "You will do well not to venture into our realm again. Father has decreed that you are a force of Calamity, and I applaud your expulsion."

"A Calamity for whom, though?" Jun interjected. "Lord Yinglong was not specific in his prophecy."

"What calamity?" Gwen recalled that her grandfather had said something similar as well. A peevish annoyance crept into her chest. “I am the 'Calamity'? That's hardly fair. You make it sound like I have no freedom or will, that I'll harm those around me simply because I exist. What am I? A tsunami?"

Ayxin slowed until she flew beside them. With her diaphanous shawl and silken garb, she looked like one of those mystical women from ancient legends. Gwen was reminded of the mythos where a mortal kept a Heavenly Maid who had lost her shawl as an unwilling bride until she stole back her clothes and fleed her husband.

Gwen doubted Ayxin would have that problem. She'd probably nuke the whole village from orbit.

"Of course, dismissing the ageless wisdom of infinitely greater beings is also a very human thing to do," Ayxin riposted smugly. "Father does not wish to consult with you because to do so would disrespect an elder. Our race is very particular about seniority."

"Do you mean Almudj?" Gwen did a double-take.

"You dare speak the Old One's name?" Ayxin snapped at her. The woman's eyes were suddenly ablaze with fury. "Your audacity knows no bounds, human girl! One wonders how you have lived so long. Or what the Old One sees in you!"

The winds picked up. The moisture crackled with static. Dragon fear washed over the landscape below. The sound of lesser creatures fleeing filled the valley. Birds rose from the treetops in splendiferous colours, scattering in all directions.

Gwen bit her tongue. Her uncle shivered, his fists balling. Without their magic active, they had to endure the brunt of Ayxin's Draconic presence with will alone.

Thankfully, once the shock passed, she regained herself, feeling more like a girl scolded than a lower being whose existence had been threatened with extinction.

"Never say the Old One's name without the proper respect," Ayxin warned her, probably displeased she didn't panic and fall from the sky. "Do not enunciate that name, especially not to your fellow humans. An Old One is a special existence."

Gwen nodded. There was no point contending how much respect she felt for Almudj. It would appear that the relationship shared by the Indigenous people of the wide brown land with their deity was far more intimate than that of the Yinglong, who had marketed himself as a deity to be worshipped and feared rather than loved and admired.

The flight continued in silence until Gwen could no longer withhold her curiosity. "What's happened to the Wyvern?"

"Ah, about that," her uncle piped up. "I tried my best, Gwen. But no dice. I am afraid there is no Dragon Core."

"Imprudent!" Ayxin jeered her uncle. From the look on her face, she had recalled an unpleasant memory.

Jun smiled broadly at the Dragon Mage, then turned to Gwen. "Conversely, I have spoken with the Lord of the Huangshan, and he has informed me that there will be reparation for losing your victory spoils."

Ayxin lowered her eyes, glanced at Jun, and then turned her chin away.

Gwen regarded the atmosphere between the two. She was very good at reading people, and what she read now made no sense to her. In her human form, Ayxin was extraordinarily beautiful, albeit aesthetic and abstract. There was tension between the two, but it wasn't sexual. If there were, she would know. Gwen was confident she could read sexual tension like a violinist tuning the tautness of her strings. No, what the two shared was a kind of cross-species admiration, which made it worse.

"And what may that be?" she asked.

"Golos owes you his life, though no doubt my brother would prefer death to indentured servitude, so your uncle here negotiated your terms with Father in your stead."

"Oh?" Gwen reminded herself that there were still a dozen or more cores held captive within Caliban, which she had not examined. Whatever spoils she could receive now would be in addition to the surety of her secret stash.

"Yes, Golos shall save your life—THRICE—in the coming years, even if it means he expends his own in the process. Should he survive the endeavour, he will be allowed to return to his former position."

"That's…" Gwen mulled Ayxin's words in her head twice over, only to find that she couldn't comprehend a single word.

"Gwen," her uncle came to Ayxin's defence, "the Yinglong is well-known for its prophecies. I believe it's a good offer. Think about why we're here. Despite everything, we're leaving unscathed. As for saving your life, if Ayxin says her father is to be trusted, then that's three times you will cheat death!"

My uncle is playing the devil's advocate for the Dragon lady? The nerve! Gwen fought down a sudden soreness in her chest.

Suddenly and unbidden, she felt Almudj's Essence come alive.

Ayxin regarded her with wonderment, then matched her unconscious projection with one of the Dragonkin’s own.

Caught between two opposing waves of Draconic Fear, her uncle appeared hen-picked. "Ayxin…" He spoke the woman's name with such familiarity! "Gwen…"

"I am not doing anything," Gwen snapped.

"Ayxin," her uncle again turned to the Dragon-kin, "can you teach Gwen how to control that? I am afraid we'll have incidents back home if she keeps leaking."

"Control what?" Gwen confirmed she was safely provisioned underneath her skirt. Her maxi dress was bone-dry. Her face took on a darker shade. "What's leaking?"

"Your aura, your presence, or rather, I should say, the presence of the Old One."

"Almu—" Gwen stopped herself.

"As a vessel—" the Dragon woman began.

"What's a vessel?"

"You presume to be too familiar with me!" Ayxin chided her. "I am older than your ancestors. Learn some manners, girl!"

Gwen chose diplomatic silence.

"Please continue," her uncle urged.

"Your niece is a vessel, meaning she has been chosen to contain a portion of the Old One's being. As for what it means, Father would not say."

"Surely you know something?" Jun coaxed the Dragon-kin.

"Maybe I do."

"Well?"

Ayxin shrugged; her lips were pressed.

Jun sighed.

"Why am I leaking? What am I leaking?" Gwen grew disconcerted with the idea that she might be leaking anything.

Jun looked exhausted already.

Gwen turned to her least favourite Dragon-kin. "Can you answer the question, ma'am?" she said sweetly; her voice tinged with tartness. The sound of her tone surprised her. Why was she so peevish? She touched her chest uncertainly. It wasn't like her to be like this.

"Miss Ayxin. Allow me to apologise." She controlled herself.

"Hmm…" Ayxin slowed their progress. "Come here, girl."

Gwen drifted closer.

Ayxin placed a finger to her forehead, then withdrew a mote of light from it. The rarified substance condensed until it formed a small trinket, not unlike an Ioun Stone. Upon closer inspection, she noted that it was a Dragon scale.

"Father foresaw and instructed me to give you this." She turned to Jun with a knowing look before returning her judgemental eyes to Gwen. "Wear it like one of your magical items. It will help you temper the Draconic Essence within your body. Eventually, it will teach you to perform the meditation unconsciously."

"Thank you."

"Good, take this." The woman placed the scale in her hand, then smirked at Gwen. "Now go over there. Your uncle and I need to speak in private before I leave you both."

Gwen surveyed their whereabouts. Indeed, they were at the border. She could see the line of Dragon Pine standing at the base of the mountain.

"A moment please, Gwen," her uncle requested. "I'll be with you soon."

Gwen took the scale ungratefully and drifted far enough to be out of earshot.

She would talk with her uncle at her earliest convenience!

"Sorry, she's young."

Ayxin shook her head. "She is not young." The Dragon Mage's expression softened. "You know this. Father told you so."

Jun breathed out, sighing deeply.

"She will be a Calamity. Father is never wrong."

"I don't believe in predeterminism." Jun shook his head. "I only believe in choice and consequence."

"Father's offer…"

"No. I am sorry."

"But the girl isn't who she says she is," Ayxin protested. "Your niece is no longer; what inhabits her body now is an aberration. A being that should not exist."

"Doesn't matter." Jun met the concerned woman's single-slit eyes, like pale water amidst the soft light of the mid-morning. "Did you know that I had previously not known she existed? I never knew this 'original'. It makes no difference to me. Gwen is Gwen."

"You're wasting—"

"Enough, Lady Ayxin."

The Dragon woman lowered her eyes.

Jun took a quiet moment to wipe the expression of vexation and conflict from his face. "I am sorry." He felt sorry for the woman.

The two listened to the lilting melody of Dragon Pine swaying below their feet.

"I will remember you," Ayxin said at last.

Her candidness surprised Jun; such a promise was not easy for a near-immortal to declare. He thought of the Yinglong's offer, the conversation he had shared with the demi-deity about the Drought Goddess, family secrets, and the amulet. The Yinglong had also bestowed upon him a prophesy, just as it had given his niece.

A lock of Ayxin's silvery-flaxen hair blew across her face. Now was the right moment to touch her hand and speak softly, but he was neither Hai nor happy with the Yinglong's meddling.

Humans took fate into their own hands. "Thank you."

Jun drifted away from her. He liked the Dragon woman, but she was a Dragon, and he was merely a man.

"And goodbye."

Chapter twenty-seven

Truth will Out

Uncle and niece returned on foot, travelling in sullen silence, each buried in their ruminations. Gwen tried to reignite the conversation, but her uncle responded with scant and sodden interest, extinguishing any small talk.

Sighing inwardly, Gwen excused herself, found a secluded area, let out her Familiars and then changed out of her dress. She first switched to her Flying Boots, finding the leather more suitable for trekking, then attired herself with a plain t-shirt and the skort, lamenting her missed opportunity to see a living, breathing mythical Dragon from yore. She had anticipated the encounter, wondered at the physicality of a being possessing every chimeric animal part, and fantasied about how inferior to Almudj the creature would be.

As she laced up her boots, she observed Jun in the distance, casually leaning against a tree, resting his eyes.

Was he thinking, perhaps, of Ayxin, the Dragon woman?

A tenderness in Gwen's chest made her diaphragm cramp uncomfortably. Jealousy was a useless emotion, she knew, and this was her uncle Jun, a man toward whom she should be infinitely grateful. Try as she might, subconscious longing and rationality rarely made bipartisan partners. If anything, her peevish pettiness surprised her. For a woman weaned on the parable of the green-eyed monster that doth mock the flesh it feasts upon, she was eating it up.

Was it an Electra-complex thing? Gwen attempted some self-imposed Freudian psychoanalysis. She had paid her psychologist enough to learn a thing or two. Or maybe, she was merely a terrible sharer, a hoarder of affections, a proverbial, selfish bitch?

They had made it about halfway when the two ran smack into an “ambush” by a pack of Merfolk. These were the classic bipedal kind, fish-faced and brightly-scaled, wielding crude spears with sharp obsidian tips that worked wonders against naked flesh and animal hide; omnivorous, vicious, and possessing a dangerous low cunning.

Her uncle stood back, giving her a chance to expend her peculiar frustration, testing her powers against regular foes who didn't possess near-immunity to Spellcraft magic.

Having spent all of her vitality stores, Gwen opened up with Lightning. A single bolt pierced three Mermen in a row. The first disintegrated, blown clear apart, the second had electricity gushing out of its eye sockets and the third fried. Behind the trio, a conifer caught fire.

"No! My vitality food!" Surprised by the potency of her spell, Gwen switched to her Familiars. Caliban and Ariel stalked through the forest, plucking up the escaping Merfok one by one. Compared to a week ago, she felt completely vital as her arachnid aberration hunted down the fleeing opponents.

The ease of her hunt, both physically and psychologically, startled Gwen. After the prison and their poaching adventure, her mental state had crossed a threshold for using Caliban's most grotesque and unnatural powers.

She pursued the Merfolk for about half a kilometre, harnessing about a dozen individuals’ worth of life force. After returning with a portion of her hunger sated and a spring in her step, she rejoined dear Uncle Jun, and the two went on their merry way.

By evening, they’d arrived at the outpost. Immediately, the two were accosted by a PLA patrol.

"Sir!" It was a man and a woman leading a group of about ten NoMs.

Jun approached, hands in the open, his ID visible.

"Captain Song." The woman's eyes burned with worshipful intensity. "Welcome back, sir. The commander told us to look out for the two of you and to inform him immediately upon your return."

Jun thanked the troop and commended them for their hard work.

The magic users in the group bristled with conviction while the NoMs gave Jun apathetic looks.

The soldiers' eyes looked over Gwen, who paid them no mind. She was far more interested in her next meal. The crass vitality of the Goblinoid Merfolk had hardly been sufficient after the Draconic feast.

Another hour of magically-assisted trekking took the duo into the vicinity of the Anhui Military Outpost.

Having received word of their arrival, the commander put on yet another banquet. A second officer's dinner ensued. Again, the female officers broke out the distilled spirits, though Gwen had wizened up to their attempts at loosening her lips.

After eating everything on the table that wasn't utensils or plates, the dinner ended in high spirits. They stayed the night at the commander's behest, opting to leave by early morning.

Gwen informed Jun that she wanted to account for their loot, but her uncle advised patience until they could obtain privacy. Cores, particularly from Draconic creatures, might cause a riot. One core was fine, two were a surprise, and three pushed the narrative. A dozen cores at once, all of the same type? A recipe for disaster.

The next day, after a pleasant breakfast with the commander, the two were again on their way. They had been absent from Shanghai a week by then, about half the anticipated time they would be away.

"It's like I've got a new car," Jun joked as he started up his Jeep, fully fuelled and polished inside and out by enthusiastic grunts.

As the two drove out of the base and hit the main road, the real world came flooding back, not just in the sense that they were on bitumen, finally seeing signs of human habitation, but the surreal unreality of Huangshan was finally behind them.

"I am not looking forward to checking my Messages." Jun adjusted his Message Device and changed the setting from LOS to roaming.

Oh yeah, Gwen reminded herself. The trip was done, the voyage was over; she was back on land and all the things she had left in frozen now wanted thawing.

The matter of her training for the next few months. The mind-blowing absurdity of her father's marriage. The machinations of Magister Wen.

The displeasure of her grandfather. The designs of her unseen enemies, such as a certain Lord Ravenport, Spectre, Outsiders, Rogue Mages, or whatever they called themselves.

But there were more pleasant forecasts as well.

Dates with Mina and the girls around downtown. A jam session with Tao just as soon as she could learn how to make music with Illusion. Spellcraft studies with Petra. Luncheons with Babulya. Maybe an adventure or two with Richard and his crew. Checking up on Lulan and Kusu. Mayuree, who was probably worried sick after a week without a peep from her 'fated' Gwen. Calling her friends overseas.]

Aping her uncle, she likewise activated a glyph on her Message Device, a discreet bangle, switching the Divination to roaming.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Gwen cherished the din. It was the sound of civilisation. Birdsong was nice and the pines were pretty chill, but she was a big city girl, and nothing comforted quite like the sound of a mass communiqué from friends and family. As any Instagram addict would know, there's nothing quite like a full inbox and a list of notifications that fell off the screen.

She tapped through the messages.

"Gwen, it's Petra. How are the woods? I hope you're keeping safe. Master asked for you, and I told her you're still with Uncle Jun. All the best with those cores. Spirits are rare for a reason. Don't worry, you can always save up on CCs to get one. The main thing is to stay safe. It's strange coming home to an empty apartment."

Gwen played the next Message.

"Yo! Cuz, it’s the big T with the big P, PEACHES! Hey yo listen, er, last time you guys made a real-good impression at the show, and I was hoping that you and Pats could like, come to another show you know? This time for real there'll be hunnies there, not just homies. By the way, Mina misses you too; she be so HIGH if you could come down to the next show!"

Gwen bit her lips amusedly, then pressed the glyph for next.

"GWEN! Don't LISTEN TO PEACHES. He's got nothing. It's another one of those stupid rap battles. I am not even going—HEY! Give that back to me! PEACHES, GIVE IT BACK! You're asking for it, you little ass—!"

Chuckling until her abdomen hurt, she pressed next.

"Gwen. Got a Message from London for you. Elvia called. I don't know when you're back, so that's what I informed her. She said she'll wait for you to get back. Petra."

Next, a familiar voice drifted out from the Message’s recorded audio.

It was Hai.

"Gwen! I have excellent news. After speaking to your new soon-to-be mother, she decided you should be her bridesmaid. WONDERFUL. Right? You're a maid, I hope, and you happen to be at a perfect age. It's a rare position. You have no idea how many beautiful girls were jostling for the hono—"

Gwen turned off the device. Her cheerful mood was drawn and quartered.

"Uncle." She turned to Jun, who had been listening to his very own Messages as they sped along the winding pass back to Hangzhou. "I just received a terrible piece of news from Father."

Jun's expression suggested he had also received the “good” news.

"You can listen for yourself." Her uncle pressed another glyph, and an audible Message from Guo began to play.

"Ah-Jun, where are you now? Could you return to Hangzhou? Leave the moment you receive this Message. If your niece protests, tell her the Dragon-spawns are not going anywhere. I have just met with Sumei Liu. Your Mother and I are currently at his estate, trying to salvage what's left of our mien. The wedding needs to proceed as soon as possible. Your brother has requested you to be his best man. This whole thing is moving faster than expected. Qīn's pregnancy will be showing soon. Your mother is upset. Let me stipulate, return as soon as possible…" Then there was a brief silence followed by a grudging postscript. "The both of you, be safe."

"I guess we're headed back to Hangzhou?"

"Don't think we have a choice."

Gwen sighed. Jun sighed. They sighed together. Their synchronicity was such that they both chuckled.

"Okay, let's make the best of it," Jun said. "You could dress up again."

"No, no, no!" Gwen advised her inexperienced uncle. "Father just asked me to be a bridesmaid, meaning I cannot dress up. I need to dress down. It's taboo for a bridesmaid to have better makeup, hair or a better-looking dress than the bride. I'll be wearing flats and making my hair as flat as possible. Then I'd have to hold her dress and follow her around all day; there's going to be a lumen-pic Illusionist following us around, recording the whole thing. There's going to be the ceremony, the reception, the dance, the line-up and farewell, speeches… my God."

"You know awfully a lot about weddings," Jun marvelled. "I've been to a few, but never… well. You know."

"Not even as a best man?"

"Not even once."

"Wow, that's hard to believe." Gwen raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"The guys I graduated with, not many of them left," Jun's tone took on a more serious edge. "As for the guys I work with, the Ghosts, let's say we're usually not the kind to marry, much less have a life outside work. One of the guys got married while under deep cover, and let me tell you, that was one hell of a situation."

"Oh?" Gwen rather liked her uncle's stories of the “dark side”.

"Yeah. So, as a 'best man', what should I expect? From the sounds of it, it's going to be a Western-Eastern wedding. It's all the rage these days, and I suppose Hai spent most of his life overseas."

Gwen had no idea, but she could make a few educated guesses. She had been to numerous weddings in Australia. All her friends and colleagues were in their thirties, meaning most of them were married.

Chinese, Indian, Thai, Anglican, Christian, Hillsong; she had been to all sorts, taking on roles such as the MC, multiple times a bridesmaid, and once as the maid of honour. Weddings were fun, even if they were highly stressful. More often than not, her purse would be bulging with cards and numbers by the night's end. Once, she’d even taken a girl home.

"Well, as you said, it's a Western wedding with an Eastern reception. There's probably going to be a ceremony, walking the aisle and all that. I don't know if there will be a priest, but probably not, as we're in China. There's probably a celebrant who will do the rites and say a few interesting aphorisms. They'll exchange vows, then we walk out under a shower of rice and flowers.”

Jun listened, clearly fascinated by the strange details of the matrimonial world.

"Then there's the reception, which I can guess is going to be a Chinese one. It means the family had to do the tea ceremony, kowtow the heavens, the earth and the parents. The Eastern ones are pretty good for bridesmaids because we don't have to do anything other than help the bride get up and get down in her dress, pass the tea, fill the pot and all that.

"As best man, you have to organise a buck's party, though I doubt Qīn will like that, knowing Dad. Not to mention this is a shotgun wedding whether we like it or not. You'll need to coordinate groomsmen, assuming there will be…" Gwen paused. A disgusting and resentful reality struck her cerebrum.

"Wait a second. Why am I a bridesmaid? Doesn't Qīn have female friends? Relatives? Who is going to pair with you? Who is going to pair with me?"

Gwen recoiled; if she were to pair with some stranger, she would prefer to be absent.

"How do you know all this?" Jun grinned at Gwen through his visors. "Feeling your age? Do you want to get married? Getting the jitters?"

The question caught her off-guard. "Me? Marriage?"

"Sure, it's every girl's dream, isn't it?" Jun laughed, nudging her defensive silence.

Marriage. She had entertained the prospect in her old life, but an opportunity had never presented itself. The concept of matrimony was both the norm and the status quo, but like her literary heroines, she had wanted to enter into sacrament for love with a friend who was also a lover. The problem was that though there was no shortage of willing men, she had never felt secure. Though potential partners were willing to give in to her demands, she wouldn't wish a union like that on anyone, much less her spouse.

Dr Monroe had once told her that it was her fear of trust. And that she needed better role models.

Role models? Gwen had snorted with laughter. Certainly, her father's apathy and her mother's screeching bipolar psychosis did not paint a pretty picture of married life. Gwen recalled having fantasies when she had been an adolescent that her parents weren't her own, that she was adopted, or that she was a foundling, anything to suggest that her abnormal family life was no fault of her own. Her mundane-world childhood was already traumatic enough; what the Gwen of this world had to go through appalled even her jaded sensibilities.

"I don't know…" She fell into a contemplative silence.

"Look, sorry I asked."

"It's okay."

Jun fell silent for a moment before popping up once again. "Say, you ever watched a movie called Stalingrad?"

"The German World War II film?" Gwen remarked. What a strange pivot. Did her uncle realise he’d touched a nerve? She felt insulted. Sure, she wanted to get married one day, but it wasn't as though she could marry anyone because her ovaries were ticking down.

"Yeah, that's the one. The one with the tanks and the suicide platoon."

"Sure, it's a classic. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I have no idea what a tank is, and I've never seen a sticky bomb either. Can you elaborate?"

"What, a tank? You're the military man."

Something in her mind clicked. A sensation of numbness manifested, first from her toes, then travelling up her calves and into her thighs. The tingling continued until it became a sliver of ice, travelling up her abdomen, chilling her spine and twisting her diaphragm until it cramped. It crawled up her neck until her scalp itself was paralysed with paranoia.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. The emptiness within her mind could rival the Bolivian salt flats.

"You tell me," she finished ten seconds too late.

"Gwen." Jun kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable behind his aviators. "Would you like to get something off your chest?"

It took her battered brain another half a minute to catch up.

What does my uncle know? How did my uncle find out?

Her body relaxed. Stirred to defensive wakefulness by her cerebral agitation, Almudj's Essence grew alive and animated, filling her mana channels with its blessing. Unlike the previous morning when she’d been upset by Ayxin, her body inhaled, then exhaled profoundly, then in expeditious successions. A pin-prickle from behind her neck activated simultaneously. Though she had doubts about the true purpose of Ayxin's scale, she allowed it to induce in her body a cadenced meditation, expanding and contracting Almudj's Essence, massaging the passage of her emerald mana until the turbulent current calmed. After a few moments, she found herself relaxed and no longer held in the grip of crisis.

With her mind returning to lucidity, Gwen took note of the paths before her. She could confess to her uncle and hope for the best, or she could play the fool and hope for the moment to pass. In this instance, she faced two divergent paths, two trails that bent in the undergrowth, preventing her from seeing past the woods that wend.

In times like this, Gwen wished her Divination had been rarer, like what Mayuree possessed.

To tell or not to tell; that was the question.

How deeply did she trust Jun?

Jun kept his eyes on the road as Gwen's leaking Dragon-fear subsided. He was beginning to regret breaking the news to his "niece" so soon, but his thoughts had been suffocating with the disturbing knowledge ever since they had left the Yinglong's domain.

Maybe that was the purpose; Jun questioned Yinglong's gift of wisdom. Secrets had a way of festering and fermenting. If he kept this from Gwen, it would inevitably affect his feelings for his niece. First, he would see her differently and then notice her abnormal behaviour—the strange maturity she had exhibited since they’d first met in the Sky Prison would become more prominent and self-evident.

Each time she attempted to hide her identity, it would sour their bond. Then, one day, he would tire of her, perhaps even grow to loathe her.

Indeed, now that he thought about it, the Yinglong's actions felt increasingly more malicious. The Yinglong might market itself as a demi-god transcending mortal concerns, but in the end, it was still jealously guarding its rice bowl. The Dragon wanted to retain its territory but was wary of the human neighbours next door. Fifty years ago, it could have wiped out Shanghai if it had been willing to risk its life. Now, with two Towers, especially the PLA super-structure, the Yinglong had no chance.

Though humans only lived a short lifespan, they were ingenious. Though Dragons were wise and ageless, they were ruthless, millennia-old mafiosos who ran century-long cons.

If so, why did the Yinglong choose to remain in its hole, knowing that humanity was only biding its time? One day, Jun was sure, humans would spread across the Northern Steppes, defeating the undead and conquering the oceans. Even before the Spellcraft Revolution at the turn of the twentieth century, humanity had carved out its niche in the world. Now with the human cities inter-connected by trade, Spellcraft and the Tower System, the demise of the demi-humans was only a matter of time.

Unless, of course, humanity, or at least Shanghai, received a considerable setback.

That was where Gwen came in, and the Yinglong's vapid, vague prophecy reared its ugly head. Jun wasn't a man to believe in fortune-telling. The CCP had long since alienated China's mystic Diviner Clans, choosing instead to follow the global trend of Spellcraft-driven Divinations.

A Divined warning, even from the Oracle of Delphi herself, was to be taken with a grain of salt. The Yinglong had called Gwen a Calamity, but what did that even mean? A Calamity, by Jun's standard, had to be an all-consuming disaster that enveloped all without discrimination. In the past, the calamities predicted by the Oracle had been self-evident enough: tsunamis caused by Merfolk, incursions of undead, and natural disasters. If Gwen were to be a “Calamity”, would she trigger an event of catastrophic proportions?

More importantly, what did Yinglong intend for him to do? What did it expect anyone to do?

Was his niece a Calamity? He recalled seeing Gwen sleeping, curled on her single bed, pale against the moonlight. The girl had breathed softly at first, then nearing midnight, she bemoaned something about "Evees", then snored thunderously before fitfully returning to silence.

How in Mao's name could that be a Calamity?

Jun had replaced her blanket, despite knowing his niece couldn't catch a cold. The simple gesture was another paternal fantasy ticked off his bucket list. Therefore, it had to be a ploy.

Indeed, Jun grew troubled as he drew out a hypothesis. He could have returned to the city to inform his superiors, or his father, that Gwen was indeed a Calamity. With confirmation from Yinglong, the PLA could ensure the city's future prosperity by keeping the girl iced via indefinite stasis deep within Tianlianqiao.

As for the Dragon's motivation…

Hadn’t Gwen boasted that she had connections to an older, more powerful entity dwelling in a Black Zone at Australia's centre? It was entirely plausible to Jun that the Yinglong feared this Almudj.

He felt invested in the theory because it explained Ayxin's concession and the circumstance of their unscathed exit from Huangshan. There were more unearthed secrets the Yinglong had given him as well, which he had to return to Hubei to rediscover via the house's archives before he could even begin to believe the Dragon's information on the origins of the Song family's Kirin heirlooms.

Now all that remained was to see how Gwen reacted. How much does the girl trust me?

In Gwen's mind, she had already confessed to her beloved uncle. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish trying to breathe on land. She felt Prufrockian, marked by weariness, regret, embarrassment and longing, a mess of emotions.

Summoning a bout of courage from Almudj's blessing, she tried again. "So… the German soldiers were being punished for desertion," she recalled expertly from the film. "They had to fight the tanks because it was both punishment and a means to prove themselves loyal soldiers of the Reich."

Fuck. Gwen wanted to bang her head on something. That's not what she meant to say at all! What the hell was she doing?

"I see." Jun's face was unreadable.

Gwen gave her cheeks a gentle squeeze. She was burning up.

Jun did so much for her. He had risked his life. He was like a father to her, not an imaginary one either. Surely, she could tell this man the single most critical secret of her second life, right?

“I… er…” She felt a strong desire to flee. Fuck. If only Dr Monroe were there to mediate. "I… want… to say that…"

"Gwen," Jun interceded. "Just say yes, or no."

"Okay."

"Are you the same Gwen Song I met at the Sky Prison?"

Gwen considered this question without a truthful answer. "Yes."

"Are you Hai Song's daughter?"

"Yes."

"Are you a doppelgänger?"

"No."

"Are you an undead spirit or a being who has died and come back to life?"

That was a more difficult question. "No. I don't know. I don't think so. I never died as far as I know."

"Okay, that takes a weight off my chest, ha-ha. Did you kill the old Gwen?"

"No!" It was true, as far as Gwen knew. As far as she knew, the old Gwen likely fell victim to a Void-awakening.

"Can you leave this body?"

"No."

"Do you have a spare body or an original body somewhere?"

"No! I don't know."

"Did you 'willingly' occupy your current body?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I've grown into it now."

"Do you wish to destroy humanity? Do voices speak to you from the Void?"

"WHAT? No!" Gwen protested. "I'm as human as anyone! I am… I don't know. I don't know anything, Uncle Jun."

"Do you know a Yog-Sothoth?"

"No! It was a joke. I made it up. Yog-Sothoth is fiction! An excellent fiction, but pure fiction nonetheless."

Jun snorted.

Gwen listened to her uncle's deep-throated mirth. The ridicule made her feel better; the pressure lifted from her bosom. If Jun could laugh, then everything might be okay.

"Let me tell you what I told Ayxin." Jun's voice came across as full of seriousness. "I told her that it doesn't matter who you are. I told her I knew nothing about this 'Gwen' that is now gone because I wouldn't have known you existed anyway. The 'niece' I chose to help is you, and it is only you—the girl sitting beside me now. You are Gwen, the one and only Gwen. Do you understand?"

Gwen understood every word, and the comprehension made her feel so light that she could take to the air and drift away.

Yes, she could trust this man. With her life story. With her life. "Thank you, Uncle Jun. If you're willing to listen, I want to tell you my story."

"I am listening," Jun replied.

"All right." Gwen took a deep breath. "Here goes…"

Chapter twenty-eight

A Series of Unfortunate Events

By the time Gwen had finished her tale, her lips were parched and the duo was within Hangzhou's city limits. She had told all, from her rebirth in the Forrestville apartment to her mind-meld with the old Gwen, to her adventures in high school, her Awakening with the Void, then Edgar, Almudj, her Master Henry Kilroy, Gunther and Alesia, Mark Chandler, as well as her embroilment in the feud between Elizabeth Sobel and her remaining siblings-in-craft.

There was only one innocuous detail that she had left out. Her original age.

A woman lying about her age was acceptable in any meta-universe, surely? Not even an elder god spawned from nether space could blame her for that!

If Jun knew that a thirty-year-old broad with hardwired daddy issues had been thrillingly calling him “uncle” this whole while, the cringe alone would prevent them from speaking again. By her recount, she was a graduate who had just built her career, a fresh-out-of-university adult who had left home at sixteen and had lots of experiences while living a worldly life.

Her story had been acceptable to Jun, so Gwen left it.

What followed were more cans of worms.

"What's the other world like? Was there Spellcraft? What's an iPhone?… What do you mean there are only NoMs? You're telling me humans have wiped out every other demi-human race on the planet? You must live in Utopia!… How does one destroy Nagasaki without Japan having a Magi retaliating strategic spells of its own? You said their emperor was alive, no?… A bunch of zeroes and ones connected the whole world?… There's a library of all human knowledge for anyone—anyone to read, at any time, called Wikipedia?… Can you explain again what global warming is?… The Theory of Relative to what?… President Trump? Never heard of anyone by that name. This NoM-science business sounds sketchy, ha-ha."

Gwen struggled to explain basic concepts from her old world, especially science. It was like describing the colour red to a deep-sea dweller at a depth where long wavelength spectrum did not reach. She had always been an arts student with scant interest in science other than math and therefore lacked the nuance of knowledge herself. Had she known that she would be born again into another world math, physics, chemistry and engineering would have made excellent choices.

After several confusing bouts of jargonistic, nonsensical nomenclature, the conversation turned to the fact that she was the third officious disciple of Henry Kilroy beside the Morning Star and the Scarlet Sorceress.

"No wonder the Pudong Tower made it very clear that they wouldn't condone any interference with your studies." Jun slapped his thighs. "At least now we know why Pudong is so polemic."

"Would you mind if I joined the Pudong Tower?"

"As long as we won't be pitted against each other," Jun warned her, foreshadowing a most undesirable prospect. "You should always have a choice, though. The Western Towers employ free agents, unlike us military grunts trained and fed by the PLA."

"You can't ever leave the PLA?"

Jun shrugged. "They gave our families everything we had after the Great Revolution and again after the Purge during the Cultural Revolution. The Juche Undead would rule the entirety of Northern China were it not for the defence put up by the PLA in the fifties and again in the eighties."

Gwen wanted to ask about the undead, but Jun interrupted her with a sudden chortle. "I wonder what they will call you," he snickered. "The Devourer? Gwen the Voracious Eater?"

"Why not Lightning Gwen or something like The Flash?" Gwen fired back. What kind of bloody moniker was the Devourer? Was she a terror at the buffet, the consummate consumer of roasts? The emptier of the oyster tray? If they were going with nonsensical names, why not something that sounded terrifyingly cool, such as The Lurker in the Void? The Tempest-tress?

"Well, the most memorable aspect of a Mage makes the moniker. Think about it. Gunther's powers manifest as Radiance, so it goes to show that he's the Morning Star. Your sister-in-craft is well known for her scarlet fire, and she always wears red, so she's the Scarlet Sorceress. On the other hand, I don't think anyone will remember your Lightning spells after one look at Caliban."

An approaching structure loomed in the near distance. It was a sentry gate, after which they would be within Hangzhou's city limits.

As Liu's manor was on the outskirts, they didn't need to enter the city. Following the Orbital Ring Road Highway around the estuaries that marked the city's crawling watery progression was sufficient to deliver them to their destination.

"Gwen, your secret is safe with me. I am on your side," Jun assured his niece.

"I know." Gwen channelled her inner Han Solo.

"Great. You can tell me more about your world at your leisure. I am very interested in this science business. Though I fear we shall have to keep it to ourselves."

"Sure thing, Uncle, of course. Should… I tell Babulya?"

To her surprise, Jun shook his head. "No, Mother has enough on her plate. The shock and disappointment aside, it would drastically complicate your relationship with Father."

"All right," Gwen replied, her voice a little hollow from the loss.

"On to a more immediate matter, then. What do you think about this wedding business?"

Gwen sighed. "To be honest, I think it will be a shit show. Excuse my French."

"Aha." Jun chuckled. "Go on."

"Uncle Jun, I don't know how well you know Dad. He is not a one-woman man. Qīn is the most feminine woman I have ever seen, and she's very much in love with him, but that hardly compares to Dad's history. He's a free spirit."

"Why do you think he's choosing to settle down?"

"God knows." Gwen shrugged. "Maybe he is in love with the woman. Maybe he wants to have a normal family again. I mean, I am a pretty shitty daughter."

"No!"

"It's true. I am bitchy, I am ungrateful, I am judgmental. Dad couldn't wait until I was out of the house."

"Oh, Gwen, that's not true."

"Well, it's spilt milk now." Gwen puckered her dry lips, wetting them with her tongue. "As I said, Dad likes women like I like food. I can't imagine eating hotpot every day, no matter how spicy and awesome it might be, and Dad can't f—sleep with the same woman. It's in his blood. Sorry, Uncle."

"That's all right, keep going."

"That's it. Dad's not a bad bloke. He took care of Percy and me materially and minimally, and I am not ungrateful for that. He's the sort of a guy who makes a far better mate—that's a friend in our Aussie lingo—than he is a father or a husband."

"I can see that, yeah."

"What I am worried about, and this is what you should tell Grandfather, is what happens when Dad sleeps with the maid? Or one of Qīn's colleagues, or a female something with two legs, a gash and happens to be in the local vicinity?"

Jun winced. The respect Gwen had for Hai made her uncle’s eyes water. "Father believes Hai is a changed man."

"Because of Qīn?"

"The House of Liu is an old family with strong ties to the CCP. We're not clanners, like those Sectarian Sword-Mages, the old Daoshis, or the Monks, just old families that have done well in the new China. The Lius are a decent clan, as far as power progeny goes. A little nepotism in the ranks, but well within norms. The older generation is well-deserving of their reputation."

"That makes it worse, right?" Gwen felt a sinking feeling in her chest.

"Unfortunately, yes. I suppose we should be glad that Hai is a divorcee to a nobody. Sorry, Gwen. On the other hand, Qīn is way past the usual age for marriage but is well-regarded as Chief Physician. She is a gifted Healer, certainly better than Sister Nen, Tao's mother."

"Wait up." Gwen thought of an unpleasant projection. "Was Dad ever a mummy's boy?"

"Of course, he was always her favourite. He's extremely good at squeezing adoration and affection from her, you know."

"Was Babulya famous for her beauty, youth, motherliness, wonderful personality… classic Oedipal and all that?"

"What's Oedipal?"

"It's when you… love your mother very much."

"That goes without saying, Gwen. We all love Mother, right? At any rate, Klavidya was the most eligible bachelorette in the CCP's Medical Spellcraft Division. She was probably more famous than you or Petra when she studied in Fudan. They called her the czarina from the Harbin Frontier."

"Did the two of you get a lot of affection from Babulya?"

"Yes and no. She was working as much as Father. The military raised us. But Mother used to shower us with affection every chance she had."

"Absent mother, huh?"

"Gwen, what are you getting at?"

"So Dad is marrying a Healer who is soft-hearted, kind, beautiful, and dotes on him unconditionally."

"Oh, Mao…" Jun pinched his brows.

"Surely Dad won't cheat on his mother?"

Jun's fist gripped the steering wheel. "Is this the 'psychology' you spoke of?"

"Yeah."

"Don't ever be a Mind Mage."

"Okay," Gwen promised.

On the horizon, the quiet outskirts of Hangzhou came into view, a shimmering sheet of haze hanging over a mirage-like waterscape of dynastic terraces sitting over the city's tributaries and estuaries, wilting in the summer haze.

The same servant they had seen last time led uncle and niece into the courtyard.

Babulya was there, as well as Gwen's grandfather and Gwen's aunty, Nen, whom she had seen only twice. The younger generation was missing and likely would not be present until the wedding day.

Her father was present, naturally, along with the Liu brigade.

"Ash Bringer, welcome back. Miss Song, I am glad to see you are safe." Sumei, the patriarch, opened his arms expansively and welcomed the two into his abode.

Not wanting to take her chances, Gwen curtsied expertly. Jun bowed, then bowed again toward his parents. Gwen quickly moved to the other side of the aisle.

"You look as lovely as ever, Gwen," Qīn remarked.

Gwen wasn't sure if her comment was a genuine compliment or yet another jab at her mother, so she took it with as much grace as possible, putting up a smile as synthetic and illuminating as the daylight lanterns brightening the courtyard.

"Gwen is very pretty, isn't she?" Nen said. "She's famous in Fudan, you know. Even I've heard about the Deathworm Beauty of Guoding Road, ha-ha! Tao and Mina have nothing but praise for you, Gwen. My husband thinks the world of you as well."

"Thanks, Aunty." Gwen played the coy waif.

"Gwen." Her babulya made a come-hither with her hands. Gwen carefully approached, cute as a button and meek as a kitten.

“Grandfather." Gwen bowed.

“Sister." Percy did not.

The sound of the familiar voice gave her a start. It was deeper than she'd recalled, more mature, but also worn and weary.

Behind Guo was her brother. "Percy! I've missed you!" She let loose a genuine yelp of jubilation before recalling how they'd parted last time, with unspoken bad blood. "How are you? The training is going well, I hope."

"I see you have done well for yourself," Guo interjected before her brother could reply. A dull glow in his eye suggested some Divination. The effect was subtle and Gwen had only noticed because every time she felt “scanned”, the follicles on her arms and her legs broke out in goosebumps. "The trip went well?"

"It did, Grandfather,” Gwen replied carefully. “Uncle Jun has taken great care of me.”

“As he should.” Guo inclined his head, his expression unreadable, as usual.

When Gwen persisted in looking behind him, the old man annoyedly sidestepped.

"Percy."

"Sis." Her brother was as cute as usual.

"How have you been?" she asked.

"Good, good."

Percy looked paler than Gwen recalled, though it was no surprise if he had spent his time indoors, training in his private gym.

While the youngsters talked, the oldies moved to occupy more comfortable seating in the east wing.

The manor was tranquil and beautiful, especially as subtle manifestations of Dancing Lights played across frond-filled ponds that surrounded the pagoda pavilions, joined by frog song and the sibilant water trickling.

With the two left alone, Gwen attempted to thaw the ice. "So, how's the training?"

Percy looked sheepish. "Coming along. I am filling up my second tier in Evocation. Grandfather hopes I can concurrently train with another school, but learning meta-school Spellcraft is very taxing."

"Oh, yes." Gwen nodded sagely. She vaguely recalled her Generalist days. Learning anything had been a chore until she had properly Awakened to Conjuration and Evocation, cognitively conjoining her astral and physical bodies. "The headaches you get from mana burn can get pretty disgusting. Don't push yourself too hard, hey?"

When she looked up, Percy had a sarcastic smirk on his face. "Do you really have trouble with meta-school spells, sis?"

"It's only natural," Gwen said reflexively.

"Which school, exactly?"

"Well," Gwen placed a few indignant fingers against her collarbone, "I would certainly struggle to learn Enchantment, for example."

"But not Evocation, Illusion, Abjuration, Transmutation or Divination?"

Her next words became tongue-tied. Did Percy think she was humble bragging? In hindsight, the boy was right. What she had said was exactly that.

Of course, Percy would know the true extent of her schools. Her grandfather had watched as she’d dissected Choi for his Illusion talent.

Percy snorted. "So how was the trip?"

"The trip? Oh yes, the trip. It was fascinating! Jun and I had many encounters with Wildland magical monsters. Ran into a Dragon-kin, the most intimidating Pangolin you have ever seen. Started shouting when we tried to kill it. Then there were bees. My God, so many bees! Bees the size of your hand."

Gwen launched into an endless tirade of relative half-truths, detailing what had happened on the mountain. She couldn't possibly tell Percy about her harvest of Draconic Essence, nor was she about to reveal the existence of Ayxin or Golos. Instead, Gwen focused on hunting the Dragon Carp and the Draconic Deer.

"So did you find a core or a spirit?" her brother asked.

Ah, Gwen snickered internally. You sneaky little rascal. That was the million-HDM question. Gwen puffed out her chest.

"You did?" Percy's chest rose and fell. His face grew flush with crimson.

Gwen almost felt sorry for teasing him. "Nope." She laughed, slapping his shoulder. "I got nothing. We did find a core, though—an earthen one. Going to hawk it for crystals to pay for rent, ha-ha."

Her brother laughed awkwardly. From the looks of it, he rightfully doubted her story.

But there was one more thing on Gwen's mind. If Percy wanted to test her, it was only right that she prodded him back with the information that Lulan had told her. "Percy, tell me about the young man from the Huashan Sect called Pei Li." It wasn't a question. Gwen wouldn't let her brother off without at least twisting his arm.

Percy's demeanour palpably shifted toward the defensive. "He's a classmate." Percy was visibly sweating. The young man was too green, Gwen mused, though it was endearing that her brother immediately thought he was in deep shit. Their grandfather must have informed him that she'd made up with Lulan. If so, Percy should have expected that Lulan would have told her everything. From the looks of it, Grandfather was leaving Percy to deal with his cock-up.

"Are you close friends?"

"We're acquainted." Percy couldn't meet Gwen's eyes.

"Did you ever talk to Pei regarding my circumstances? About things like…"

Percy appeared hesitant.

"About, you know, like…"

She could hear Percy audibly breathing now. The boy looked as though he was being racked! The schadenfreude was intoxicating, but she had to stop. "… how pretty your sister is?"

Gwen wrapped an arm around Percy, pulling him closer until his face was against hers. She blinked her eyes coquettishly, clowning with her brother.

"Are your friends interested in the infamous Deathworm Handler of Fudan? I am rather infamous, you know. They say that Petra and I have become the most well-known faces around University Road."

"Let me go!" Percy struggled feebly, caught off-guard by Gwen's aggressive body language.

Gwen kept Percy captive under one arm. Despite the growth spurt her brother had enjoyed, he was no match for her Almundj-Essence-empowered body. Even without the Draconic Vitae, she was far sturdier than her lithe arms suggested.

The kinship felt good, as did the skinship. It was the sort of thing she had done with Percy in the old world.

When Percy finally escaped, pressing against her with all his might, Gwen had to let go. "Hey, you're crushing my you-know-what!"

"Am not!" Percy's face had become scarlet pork liver. "That's your rib."

"Ah, boys, they grow up so fast. Did you get to know any girls from school? Xiangming Metropolitan is co-ed, right?”

Percy nodded, fixing his ruffled hair.

"So you got a girlfriend yet?"

Percy shook his head.

"What? FOR SHAME!" Gwen scolded her brother. "Loser! Look at Dad. How can you continue your father's legacy if all you do is sit around on your ass, not having a girlfriend?"

"Grandpa forbade me," Percy muttered.

"Pufft!" Gwen spat out rancorous laughter. "Why?"

"He said that, er… we need to preserve our… purity because of Salt."

"Are you for real? You're celibate?" Her mind was a riot.

Percy growled, looking as though he wanted to find a hole and crawl into it.

"Ha-ha, you need to preserve your… ha-ha." Gwen slapped her thighs. "What kind of Fengshui logic is that? If your father had done that from the start, we wouldn't exist. Can you imagine Father having enough temperance for that sort of thing?"

"Okay! Jeez." Percy shot her an annoyed look.

Gwen wiped a tear from her eye.

Percy sighed.

"Bloody hell, Percy, so morose. What are you, Vincent Price?"

"Who's that?"

"Ah, never mind." Gwen giggled.

"Okay."

"So what do you think about Dad's wedding?" she asked.

"I don't think," Percy muttered, his voice sullen and affected. "It's not like my opinion matters."

That means he hates it. Gwen recognised the rebellious tone. Well, it only stood to reason. Their father was indeed having another child, and Percy was right to feel paranoid. Replacing the heir was unlikely, though. Grandfather had gone to great lengths to set up his new grandson, and a bird in the hand is always better than two in the bush. She was confident their patriarch wouldn't give up Percy in exchange for the great unknown inside Qīn's belly.

"Well, what do you think about your soon-to-be baby sister or brother?"

"My what?" Percy shot from where he'd sat as though a pin cushion had materialised on the wooden bench.

Oh, shit! Gwen mentally slapped herself. He didn't know? Had no one told Percy? The boy must have known, right? That's the bloody reason for the shotgun wedding!

"Well, it was a secret? Or should I say, an open secret? Can you pretend to have not heard?"

There was no salvaging the shit show that had been unleashed. Loose lips sink ships, Gwen berated herself.

Percy sat down. She took her brother's hand and Gwen felt his skin boil, then rapidly cool until it was icy.

"Percy, seriously, are you okay?" she said, putting a hand on his forehead. Her brother's skin became clammy with sweat.

"I… I…" Percy looked as though he was intoxicated. His eyes grew wide, then he doubled over.

"Percy? What's happening?" Gwen tried slapping his back.

“I’ll be okay.”

Then Gwen felt it—that familiar aura of Jun subsuming Essence. The Kirin Amulet—something was happening within the Kirin Amulet. Not only that, her own Almudj's Essence was agitated.

"Percy, it's the amulet. What are you doing with it?"

"NOTHING! I'll be fine!" Her brother spat defensively. "Leave me alone."

"You're not fine. You bloody idiot. Let me see."

"NO!" Percy battered her hand away, jarring her fingers.

The audacious act filled Gwen with a sudden bout of righteous fury. She felt such resentment and annoyance that any feeling of sentimentality was drowned out by a sudden wave of all-consuming vindictiveness. How dare Percy refuse her generosity?

"Don't be shitty with me, you little shit!” The words escaped her mouth before she could even think of them. "Let me see the bloody thing before you kill yourself."

Even though the words had engendered from her mind, she hadn't had the slightest intention of expelling them. That her diatribe had escaped her lips, unbidden, shocked them into stunned silence.

Percy glared at her with a fierceness that made her flinch.

"Shit, Percy, sorry. Look, I didn't mean that."

Percy clasped his amulet protectively. "I am fine!" He stood up, his neck throbbing with purple veins. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"All right, all right. Jesus.”

Gwen backed out of the pagoda pavilion. She wasn't sure how to deal with Percy's outrage. Not even in the old world had her brother ever screamed at her.

"Dad! Uncle Jun?" she called. If Percy refused her help, maybe someone else could help her. "Mr Liu? Anyone?"

"Shut up!" Percy hissed at her. "SHUT UP! GODDAMN IT!"

A few of the servants came running. Jun and Guo materialised from the east wing.

"What's happened?" Jun turned to Gwen. Her uncle's face was a mask of concern.

"Percy's not feeling well," Gwen said.

"She wants my pendant!" Percy almost howled out his accusation. His face was a mask of blind anguish. "She tried to take it!"

"Grandson!"

When Guo stepped into the pagoda, Gwen felt the moisture drain from the air. As the old man held up his precious heir, he gave Gwen a cold and dangerous glare full of suspicion.

"What? No!" Gwen protested wildly. "It's a misunderstanding." She begged her uncle with her eyes.

Jun looked to be far more worried about his father, who appeared on the verge of popping a gasket.

"I'd never!" she stated again. "Brother was in pain. I was trying to help. I gave him the amulet. Why would I want it back?"

"Gwen, we believe you," Jun interjected. "Let's all just calm down."

"Grandfather…" Percy held onto Guo's shoulder. "I don't feel well."

"Bring your grandmother!" Guo snapped at Gwen. "Go now. She's attending Qīn. The east wing!"

Gwen ran. Her heart felt like it had been dashed on the floor and stomped. Her brain was a jumble of mixed emotions—indignity, impotent fury and wilting betrayal all mixed into a volatile cocktail.

Of course, she wanted the fucking thing, but she would never take it from her brother, goddamn it! She swore internally, gnashing her teeth. As she ran past the terrified NoM servants, her chest felt so constricted that the pressure against her ribcage felt rigged to blow.

SPLASH!

Below her, the koi in the pond began to boil, writhing as though they were trying to escape the water itself. A few of them became driven into such a frenzy that the fish started attacking each other.

Shit! Gwen caught herself before the commotion spread too far. She was leaking Dragon Fear, now of all fucking times. Calm your tits, girl! she scolded herself as she activated Ayxin's scale by directing her seething Essence toward it. Harmony! She had to remain calm and collected. She had to be placid like a summer billabong.

An indistinct passage of minutes passed. Her heart had returned to its usual cadence when she opened her eyes. Her unruly Essence was under control.

That and two dozen priceless koi were dead, floating belly-up after tearing themselves to bits.

Fuck! Fuck a duck! It doesn't fucking end! Her zen shattered as the tranquil green water below broke into silvery fragments, refracting the Dancing Lights hovering over the pond, hinting at the violent demise of yet more koi.

I have to get out of here! She had to get somewhere where her leaks wouldn't murder the pet fish Qīn had likely raised for a decade.

Gwen fled the sight of the carp holocaust, only to run into her uncle coming the other way, two pavillions away, catching her on the narrow bridge where there was no avoiding the anxious-looking man.

"Gwen." Her uncle looked surprised to see her. "You try to find Mother, yes?"

Gwen froze. Had she gone to get Babulya? Of course, that had been the plan.

"Yeah."

"You were gone for almost ten minutes. Mother found us by herself."

"Oh."

"Where did you go?"

"I leaked."

"Mao! Did you get it under control?"

"Yeah, I mean, no, I…"

She couldn't continue because, in the next moment, they were no longer alone. Her grandfather was accompanied by her brother, who looked pale but otherwise restored. Her babulya flanked them.

"Gwen, I had requested that you find your grandmother." Guo's expression spoke of one whose patience and kindness were running on fumes. "What did you do instead? Where did you go?"

"I was looking," Gwen told the half-truth.

"I find that very difficult to believe." Her grandfather saw her lies.

"Gwen." Her babulya tried to intervene. "Guo, let it go."

"Klavdiya! Stay out of this!" Guo growled at his wife, clearly unhappy her babulya would take the ingrate's side.

Watching her babulya's crestfallen expression, something snapped inside Gwen. "Well, I did, old man! What's so hard to believe?" she said, her voice vivid with barely contained passion. "Whether you believe it or not, I did. That's the truth, take it or leave it."

The resultant silence was as though a magical debuff had descended upon the crowd. Not even the frogs dared to croak. Gwen pressed her terrified and vague fingers against her lips, wondering if slapping herself loudly and humiliatingly across the face would salvage the moment.

Her grandfather's demeanour suggested the situation had escalated way beyond that. "Jun, with me. Gwen, do as you please."

"Father…" Her uncle was helpless.

"Guo…" Klavidya's face showed her pain.

Gwen lowered her head. Her grandfather's glower was enough to make their blood run cold.

"Jun, you have disappointed me. Is this disrespect what you hoped to accomplish by risking yourself? Is this what you've been teaching her?"

Her uncle lowered his head as well. In Gwen's eyes, the transpiring act became a physical pain stabbing at her chest.

"I am sorry, Father," Jun said.

At that moment, Gwen would have gladly tested the hypothesis of whether their grandfather could tank an Affinity six Lightning Sphere to the face and if her babulya could put fuckwit McGuo back together again. But her uncle and Babulya were watching, so Gwen held her tongue.

"I am sorry, Grandfather." Gwen bowed deeply. It was all she could do right now.

Her hair fell over her face and shoulders, blocking her forward vision. All she could see were the feet of those who shuffled past.

Guo.

Jun.

Percy.

Then finally, Babulya.

An elegant pair of embroidered sandals stopped just below her eyes. "Gwen, you don't have to like your grandfather, but you do have to respect him. Can you at least do that for me, dear?"

“Yes, Babulya. I am sorry.”

"It's all right, dear. Now is a sensitive time. You grandfather doesn't want to lose face in front of the Liu family."

"Yes, Babulya."

"We'll talk once this is all over, all right?"

"Yes, Babulya."

The troop moved on. Gwen was left alone. She felt sick. She felt exhausted. She would rather fight two Golos.

"Oh, Mao!" The shriek from the koi ponds made her cringe.

"Great leader's ghost! Someone killed the koi! Mistress's favourite koi! Who would do this?"

That was the final straw. She had run out of the necessary willpower to deal with even more shit after a world of shit had just descended upon her shit-filled moment.

"Flight!" Gwen incanted her Lesser Flight spell. She lifted herself into the air, then pointed her face toward the lights in the distance.

She needed a fucking drink, a quiet place to sit, and time to think.

Chapter twenty-nine

The Black Goat

Gwen had never bought alcohol in Shanghai. Bad as things had gotten, she had been too busy with new friends to desire chemically-induced leisure.

Luckily, the first shopping street she found had a local mini-mart selling booze. She filled her basket with a six-pack of Tsingtao, a bottle of what looked like soju, and a sparkling flask of peach-flavoured mystery. Usually, Tequila was her poison of choice, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

The store clerk, an NoM, stared at her with such intensity that he may as well tear out his eyes and toss his orbs onto her legs.

That was when Gwen realised she was still wearing her black skort, easily mistaken for a salacious minidress. When she had left the military base, she had thoughtfully tossed on something that allowed her to survive the humidity of Hangzhou.

Concurrently, she was open-bloused and did not give a shit. Her hair was also wild from the late-night Flight, plastered to her face, having picked up every mote of condensation rising from the West Lake.

"Can I see some ID?" The clerk swallowed.

Gwen glared at the poor NoM. Mayhap it was the Dragon Fear, or maybe she looked pissed off enough to skin a man alive; the clerk apologised profusely for daring to question her age.

Ashamed for terrifying the hapless NoM, she left him the change, whatever it was.

Not wanting to try her luck with opposite-sex encounters, she flew over the rural farmlands, where presumably no-fly restrictions were not in play, until she found a rather attractive location on the uninhabited shore of the West Lake, dotted with lotus flowers, glimmering with muted moonlight.

She descended on what she had thought was a floating deck but turned out to be an enormous water lily leaf almost four meters across. The platform first wobbled but quickly stabilised as Gwen lowered her centre of gravity.

When she further tested the buoyancy of the flora, she noted with wonder that it was quite unsinkable. The furry surface felt like carpet, not to mention hydrophobic.

Confident in the plant's ability to keep her above the tepid, weed-filled water, Gwen sat crossed-legged in the lotus position and tried to come to grips with what was happening.

Breath in. Breath out.

It had all begun when her uncle had found out about her origins. That particular crisis had turned out fine, the drama was unwarranted, and she could trust the man unconditionally. The revelation was more cathartic than it was traumatic.

Then her father had called.

After that, they’d arrived in Hangzhou, and there was a big family reunion. She’d spoken to Percy and tried to rile him over his snitching. It was harmless fun, and the boy seemed to take it in stride.

Then she’d revealed that their father had a new child on the way.

Percy had freaked out and something happened with the amulet.

She felt it activate—that distinct tingle, just like her uncle manifested when the Ash Mage fed on the Essence captured in the Kirin Stone.

Her brother had then had an asthma attack and she’d tried to help. Percy had batted her hand away.

Then what? Then she’d snapped at him.

That little shit! The thought was most definitely her own. Even now, she felt upset over the rebuke.

She had demanded to see the amulet. Ah, fuck. Gwen cringed. Freudian slip? Or was it? They’d been doing so well, making a connection, getting along, and then the amulet had dispelled the illusion, bringing the two kicking and screaming into the real world.

Percy saw her as a competitor. And the Kirin Amulet remained a point of contention.

Feeling that she needed something to ease the kick-boxing kangaroo in her chest, she popped a bottle of Tsingtao. With Almudj's unconditional aid, she had no idea if she could still become intoxicated.

"This one's for you, Uncle Jun!" Gwen threw her head back, allowing the ice-cold fluid entry into the temple of her body. She persisted through another bottle despite the likelihood that her buzz was a placebo effect.

"Puuwa!" She continued her rumination.

After an unintended trespass, Percy had freaked out.

Had she leaked her Dragon Fear then? Gwen wasn't sure. If she had, the koi would have gone nuts right below them. The fish always congregated where there were people, expecting to be fed.

She’d then called for help, anxious that Percy had been gripping the amulet and crying blue murder, which had brought their grandfather and Jun.

Then what had happened? The little shit had snitched on her! That fucking weasel! I ought to fry his lily ass.

A spark of electricity zinged across her vision. It must have escaped from somewhere on her person.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Gwen caught herself yet again. Her Almudj Essence was immensely agitated, and with it, her thunderous Lightning mana. Why was she uncharacteristically upset, so out of control and impulsive? Her “grin it and bear it” demeanour was arguably world-class. She had been less upset when some guy had grabbed her ass on the train! She hadn't even felt this intensity of emotion when her father had pulled a whole alt-life story out of his ass, then doomed her to being stuck in Shanghai, taking her away from Yue and Elvia.

She closed her eyes and tried to mediate. Almundj's Essence revolved around her body, again and again, diffusing the alcohol. Gwen topped up with the soju.

Wait up. Her mind clicked.

What the hell had Instructor Chen said? It was during that conversation they’d had about the Dragon Cores.

"You two should learn to temper yourselves, as Quasi-Elementalist Mages. The more Lightning Affinity you possess, the keener your physiological and mental metabolisms will become. Your temperament will worsen."

An irrational sense of pride and possessiveness came with high Affinity.

Her Affinity?

Six. Six sexy tiers of Lightning, as Whetu would say in his Kiwi Kant.

Gwen chuckled to herself. The narcissism was real, but she had to give herself credit for grinding down a tier ten Thunder-Wyvern, then fucking it in the ass with Caliban. A girl had to know her worth; there was a difference between humility and ignorance of one's excellence. Why, she ought to inform those twats at the House of Liu that…

Gwen stepped on her mental brakes before her fantasy roared down reality highway and ran someone over.

"An irrational sense of pride," she repeated to herself, tasting the words on her tongue. "And excessive possessiveness."

How awful, Gwen thought. Was she to become like Ayxin or Golos? Transformed into an insufferable, stuck-up, better-than-thou Machiavelli-Draconian? In her old world, the sociopaths with psychopathic disregard usually got ahead. That was one of the reasons she’d dreamt of working for herself. She had always been prideful, else she would not have left home at sixteen. The problem now was that the face she had prepared to meet people was cracking like poorly applied makeup.

In all honesty, Gwen found her Affinity-induced PMS hard to swallow. That somehow she was not in control simply because she had grown more powerful was abhorrent to her. It made no sense that she couldn't dig herself out of this hole. How would she fight her “Calamity” if she couldn't uproot something as simple as a little chemical alteration of the brain? Where there's a will, there's a way, isn’t there?

Feeling the space around her, she desperately desired someone like Yue, Elvia, Richard and Petra. Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, she punched in the glyphs and did exactly that. Richard should be with Lulan and Kusu, Gwen recalled. They had gone Questing roughly the same time she had gone off with Jun.

"Hello? Gwen? You're back?” Richard said.

"I’m back!" she replied cheerfully. "How's everyone?"

"We're all in Nantong at the moment, though, Gwen. I heard from Mina that your father is getting remarried?"

"Yes. And guess who's a bridesmaid? It's a me. Gwen!"

"Bloody oath. Uncle Hai, he's such a fuckwit. It's like he can't help himself. I mean, who'd want you as a bridesmaid?"

"Hey! Are you saying I'll make a terrible bridesmaid?"

"It doesn't take a Diviner to know that." Richard laughed.

The joy was infectious, and Gwen felt better already.

"Ah, bloody hell. Strewth. Gwen, not that I care about Aunt Helena or anything, but if you want someone to talk to, I am here with Lulu, Kusu and the crew. Do you mind if I put us on audible? Lulu is keen to talk to you."

"Sure. Hi, guys!"

"Hi, Gwen!"

"Miss Song, I am glad you've returned safely."

"So how was the trip?" Richard asked, perhaps wishing to divert her from becoming further depressed by the woeful wedding. "Regale us with your adventures."

The voice of her cousin and friends worked its magic like a much-needed dose of Celexa. Gwen felt the taut tension in her body unwind as though the rack she'd been stuck on had released the screw.

"The trip was good, very good. We ran into all sorts of interesting Draconic animals, then ate all of them, ha! Uncle Jun was amazing. I love him to bits!"

Gwen's voice took on a hysterical edge. With great enthusiasm and flourish, she told them the same version she had narrated to her brother. As for Richard, her cousin and Petra would receive a private revision once reunited.

"Wonderful." Richard's voice bellowed across wherever the crew was gathered. "I look forward to seeing your new Affinity and Caliban's new form."

"Oh, his new form is terrible," Gwen boasted guiltily, reminding herself to consult with Caliban after the call. What would a Void Stag resemble? A living nightmare, she would wager.

"Caliban has yet another monstrous form?" Kusu's voice was equal parts anxiety and nervousness.

"Kusu, don't interrupt. So, Gwen, how was the peak of Huangshan? I've only ever seen Huashan. Is it as awe-inspiring as they say?" It was Lulan who spoke up.

"Lulu, Huangshan was beautiful. Deadly, but also pretty as a painting."

"That sounds wonderful. I'd love to climb Lotus Peak one day."

Assuming you don't run into a Dragon! Gwen mused. "So Lulu, how's working with Richard?"

"Richard is amazing." Lulu's response was worshipful. "I feel like such a frog in a well."

"The siblings are both doing great," her cousin butted in jovially. "Kusu helped as well. He's our level-headed strategist."

"I didn't do anything worthwhile," Kusu interjected humbly. "Those two are insane."

"Ha-ha," Richard chuckled.

"So what did you guys do?"

As Lulan sounded far too drunk on happiness and excitement to tell a lucid story, Richard obliged in her stead. According to her cousin, they’d ventured to Nantong with his old crew to participate in the construction of Tonlv Canal, a major infrastructural project connecting Nantong to the Yellow Sea, enabling maritime trade between Seoul, Nagasaki, Qingdao and upper Shanghai, forming a quadrangle trade route.

Richard's party had initially cleared wildlife ahead of the construction Mages and NoM labourers. However, after Lulan started to KO every other river-gob they came across, the presiding official had recruited the party for Purge requests across the Dayang peninsular.

With almost triple the pay and double the CCs, the party had immediately made a name for themselves, with Richard acting as Abjurer and support. Naturally, Lulan served as the primary offensive damage dealer.

On the fourth day, the party had uncovered many Merfolk warrens. Before the party official had even issued a proclamation, Richard's party had cleared the entire Dungeon, bringing back a half-dozen cores and the head of the Merfolk chief, a fifty-stone humanoid catfish.

"We stood back while Lulu did her thing. I kept her Shielded and Kusu had our backs. The other guys spent the whole time digging for cores and mining water crystals."

"Sounds like you guys had a great time."

"Indeed it was. Smooth as butter. We're on a break right now, on government expense, ha!" Richard boasted. "It's a state-sanctioned hotel, but the buffet is wonderful. Wish you were here. The water's beautiful and Merfolk-free."

"How's Lulan dealing with the boys?" Gwen asked. As she recalled, Kusu had been very nervous.

"Ha-ha!" Richard broke into rancorous laughter.

"Richard!" Kusu complained bitterly, evidently triggered by Gwen's query and Richard's mirthful mockery.

"Lulan brought a risqué swimsuit to enjoy her R and R, but Kusu has forbidden her from wearing it."

"It shows her—"

"Kusu!" Lulan's voice cried out shrilly. "I can wear whatever I want."

"Gods, Kusu, it's just a boob tube. Mate, calm your tits, not that the ones on display are yours to withhold, ha-ha!"

The Message Device became inundated with snickering laughter.

Gwen shared in the merriment even as her chest became punctured by disappointment and resentment, a feeling worse than checking Facebook during the end of the fiscal quarter and seeing people on holidays in Santorini or Hokkaido. She felt hollowed out, as though all sensation of joy had been consumed by gut-wrenching, maddening envy.

Why couldn't she be in Nantong with Richard and Lulu, kicking ass and eating on the government's dime, living life however she wanted?

Of course, Gwen knew the answer to her rhetorical question; it was the source of her grievous upset. She was such an ungrateful bitch, moping about her teacup drama when Uncle Jun risked his life to gift her with tier VI Lightning.

With the shame of her churlish egocentrism crushing her mood, the bounty of happiness her friends provided no longer felt nourishing. Instead, their carefree laughter grated her ears.

"Okay, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the laughs, Richard. I'll Message you again later or see you guys in a week."

"Laters, Gwen."

"Bye."

"Stay safe, Miss Song."

With the call ended, Gwen called forth Caliban and Ariel. Her serpent and Marten weighed down the discus-foliage of the water lily. She needed something else to cheer her up, and a little loot could do that.

"All right, Cali, let's see what you got." She commanded her serpent to do its thing.

"Shaa!"

She squeezed Caliban between her arms, pressing the obsidian serpent against her ribcage.

Caliban heaved. Out popped the first core, then another and another and another.

Plop! Plop! Plonk!

Thirteen Draconic Deer Cores of exceptional clarity were steadily milked from Caliban, adding one Merfolk core of indistinct quality.

Gwen likewise released the three Carp Cores from her ring, as well as the pangolin's Earthen Core. The larger orbs joined the pile of smaller cores in the middle of the lily pad.

By her inexperienced appraisal, the Deer Cores would likely fetch four to five thousand HDMs, while the Carp Cores were slightly higher at six thousand. Jun had said that the sapient Pangolin's core could be worth twenty-five thousand to the right buyer, especially as Earthen Mages were numerous and Abjurers especially were highly sought after. She wasn't sure why there was such a price disparity. Perhaps it was because the core's owner was capable of speech? It was an answer that only an experienced crafter like her opa could give.

The fact that the small pyramid was likely worth up to one hundred thousand HDMs improved Gwen's mood immensely. It was like looking at a six-digit figure in one's bank account, basking in the monitor's glow. Her breath became audible pants as she ran a finger over the stockpile, feeling a secret thrill run through her coiled body.

The moment of truth had descended. Gwen activated her Detect Magic, then picked up the first core and ran a mote of Lightning into its interior. It lit up dimly, humming with Elemental Lightning.

But it was without spirit. Disappointed, she placed it into a separate pile.

The second, the third and the fourth followed. Some cumquat-sized, others a small orange. The alpha's core was the size of a grapefruit.

It was an impressive thing of superb clarity, as potent as the Eland Core that Mayuree had given to Ariel, likely worth a solid eight thousand HDMs as well.

A mote of mana left her fingertips and made its round inside the core, projecting such a light that it was as though a Daylight spell had momentarily irradiated the lily-filled lake.

Gwen cursed her indiscretion and surveyed their surroundings.

The light faded. She was still, as far as she could tell, thankfully alone. This late at night, NoMs respected curfew, while Mage patrols would be visible from kilometres away thanks to their Daylight lanterns.

Greedily, she cupped the alpha core and examined it.

Nothing.

Just a Core.

Shit. Gwen prevented herself from stomping the lily pad and sending her collection tumbling. No spirit, after all that. After Uncle Jun risked his life for me!

Should she have killed Golos? Made Caliban consume the bastard from inside out, heedless of the Yinglong's retribution? She was confident there was a core inside that Wyvern she could use.

"EE-EE!" Ariel nudged the stag's core in her hand, begging her with its big button eyes.

Gwen had known Ariel's desperate desire and wantonness in only one other instance. It was at the auction when Mayuree had tossed her the Eland Core. This time, Ariel's whining was even more intense, possessing such urgency that her empathic link tickled her bladder and gave her an urgent desire to visit the ladies’.

Should she give the core to her Familiar, though? She could trade it away for CCs or sell it for HDMs. Who knew what projects in the future needed one or the other, or both?

But then again, she corrected herself, isn’t Ariel a significant investment? Hadn't its Eland ability helped her immensely, almost single-handedly upped her damage and strategy potential?

Sensing her thoughts, Ariel cried a thankful "EE—EE!" Receiving her mental permission, it bit into the core, crushing it within its jaws.

There go at least eight thousand HDMs, maybe even ten thousand. Gwen allowed the dust to fall from her fingers, enough to pay for her entire tuition were she not a scholarship student.

She had Babulya to thank for that.

"EE-ee!" Ariel swallowed the rest and then indicated to the Carp Core.

"Sure, go ahead." At this point, Ariel was a sunk cost; the wiser option was to commit her resources fully.

And so Ariel then treated itself to a second.

"Cali, you want in on this action?"

"Shaa!" Caliban wagged its tail, stating no.

"All right, I guess not."

Gwen examined the last Merfolk Core. She mused that it would be ironic if this one were pregnant with a spirit. A mote of mana later, she was left making a face, chewing one side of her lips contemplatively. Nope, she sighed despondently, no luck.

Having ravaged two creature cores, Ariel licked its chops and surveyed the rest of the loot pile.

"Oh no, you don't," Gwen warned her gluttonous Familiar. "The rest has to be split with Uncle Jun. You got those other two because you worked for them. They're coming out of my share."

"Ee-ee! EE!"

"All right, get back in there."

She unsummoned her Familiar. Ariel was already getting sleepy. Whatever was in those Draconic Cores, they were very quickly inducing her Familiar to undergo another metamorphosis. Gwen wondered how long Ariel would take this time and if she would need it in the week or so to come.

With Ariel gone and her loot failing to cough up a spirit, she packed away the pile of assorted cores and tapped into another beer, feeling the still-cold liquor dispel the summer haze that hung over the West Lake. Occasionally, a breeze came through, borne upon a crosswind, lifting her hair and chilling her legs. Those moments were both rare and tranquil, allowing her to forget, if only for a moment, her grandfather's displeased face and Percy's fearful eyes.

"Oh yeah, Caliban, what else you got?"

"Shaa?"

"Any new forms?"

"Shaa!"

"Well, let's see ’em. Whoa!"

Drained of its stores, Caliban returned to its old tricks, taking a pound of flesh from Gwen's body. It was fortuitous that she had earlier had a meal of Merfolk grubs. Otherwise, she would have been bereft of a significant chunk of vitality.

Standing on the lily pad, framed by the silver of the moonlight, Caliban began to bloat, twisting into its new form. First came the stag horns—an anticipated addition—then limbs, long and tangled, stabbing outwards until they formed arm-thick double-jointed needles. A serpentine neck distended from Caliban's bone-frilled skull, framed by its massive shoulders. Below, its torso tapered into a narrow waist of darkest obsidian, supported by bulging hindquarters. Upon closer inspection, Gwen noted she could spot scales just beneath the smooth exterior of its semi-opaque obsidian dermis.

"Good boy, Calib—Oh, Jeez Louise!"

Just when she’d thought Caliban's horror-filled growth spurt had ceased, it launched itself upward, sprouting two long and elegant hind legs half-a-length longer than its front limbs, likewise armed with needle-point hooves.

"Christ, Cali," Gwen breathed in the tepid air of the West Lake. That is not a PG-13 morphic form.

"Shaa-shaa!"

Like all his forms, Caliban was faceless. His skull was Draconic-shaped, with a hint of the stag but without distinguishing features.

"Where are your tentacles, Cali?" Gwen glanced at Caliban, hoping that thick, prehensile tentacles wouldn't sprout between the stag's legs. If so, Caliban's new power was going to be X-rated. If so, she would soon miss the days when people called her the Devourer.

"Shaa!"

Caliban stood on its hind legs.

"Bloody hell, you can be bipedal in that form?"

Caliban's pointed hooves stabbed into the water lily's membranes. Fully erect, her monster Familiar stood well over four meters, including its sixteen-pointer. Eerily, the night sounds were filled with slithering, accompanied by a mass of lamprey-lipped tentacles dipping low to scent her, touching her hair and cheeks.

Its friggin’ stag horns turn into tentacles! Sixteen points, sixteen tentacles?

What would happen if she commanded it to attack?

"Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban turned, sending all of its appendages to assault the air, snapping as though each was bestowed with a life of its own. The effect was awe-inspiring and terrible, akin to the stop-motion Medusa Gwen recalled seeing in Clash of the Titans.

Her Master had once said that the nuance of a Familiar's forms was associated with a Mage's deep psyche. As such, Gwen wondered if she was digging through old literature to fuel Caliban's nightmarish appearances. If one was asked to think of a Magical Stag, wouldn't the Forest Spirit from Princess Mononoke come to mind? Why did her creation look like Lovecraft and Geiger had a love child—a thousand-young-cum-xenomorph black goat?

Retracting its tentacles and returning its horns to coral-like branches of obsidian bone, Caliban dropped to all fours and stalked toward her. The lily pad swayed as its bulk shifted its centre of gravity, forcing Gwen to balance herself.

"Caliban, enough." She recalled her Familiar, instructing it to refrain from shifting into the horror stag unless given express consent.

Ding! Her contemplative privacy was interrupted by an incoming Message. "Dad?"

"Gwen, where are you now?"

"I am still in Hangzhou if that's what you mean," Gwen answered chirpily, her mind dizzy from the trace of alcohol still in her blood.

"Where in Hangzhou exactly?"

"I am at the West Lake," she confessed. "Enjoying the moonlight."

"There's no moon out tonight; it's clouded over."

"Enjoying the darkness then."

Hai sighed. "Mother wants to see you. Are you coming back?"

"Yes, I am coming back."

"Well, if you do, remember to take the servant's entrance, the one by the carport. The side entrance door is locked."

"It's all right. I flew out. I'll fly back in."

"Bloody hell, Gwen," Hai spat in English, switching to the Australian dialect he had acquired in his years in Oceania. "Just because there are no bleeding patrols doesn't mean Hangzhou is a fly zone. It's a major food bowl district! What made you think you could use Flight in a place like this? Why do you think the estates all have walls?"

"Hangzhou is a no-fly zone?"

"Yes!"

"But I flew to the convenience store, and I flew to West Lake."

"Oh Goddamn it," Hai cursed. "You flew out of Secretary Liu's house. You and the family are registered as VIPs. Of course no one is going to intercept you! Your step-grandfather will likely cop an earful tomorrow. What else did you do? No boys, I hope?"

"No, just a few drinks."

"You're FLYING DRUNK?"

"No!"

"Were you drinking?"

"I guess."

"How many?"

"About six beers and a bottle of soju?"

"Fuck."

"It was a small bottle. I'll be home soon."

"Walk, for God's sake!"

"All right! Jeez, Dad, I am not a child."

"You're a minor who is drinking and flying in a no fly zone!" Hai hissed with impotent anger. "You don't even have a Flight licence."

Gwen's agitated Almudj Essence sobered her up. Her father had a point. "I'll run home then. See you soon."

Hai muttered a few grudging pleasantries, then hung up. Huffing unhappily, Gwen packed her garbage. She might be selfish, possessive and prideful, but she wasn't a tosser.

Her late-night excursion had gone as Gwen had expected. She had given herself time to think and now had a general idea of what was happening. As the holder of six tiers of Affinity, Gwen would have to do her utmost to keep her electric blues in check. For now, she would apologise to Percy for her unintended and poorly-worded expression, help her father with his wedding, and play nice with her grandfather.

For one week, she would do anything to keep her babulya and uncle de-stressed and content.

"Okay!" Gwen slapped her cheeks with both hands. "Come on, you can do it."

It was time to go home and face the music.

Hai sighed, tossing his Messenger Device onto the pile of clothes on the floor.

"Hai, I am worried about Gwen." Qīn's breath was pleasant and ticklish against his ear. "Going out to drink at a time like this, she's going to ruin herself. Such a pretty and talented girl as well. What a shame."

"She'll be fine, dear." Hai brushed a lock of his fiancée’s hair from her cheeks. "Gwen's a good girl. It's just a phase. You were young once. Heck, you're young still! Just look at those cheeks—softer than ripe peaches."

Qīn laughed, her voice trilling like a nightingale's through the winding corridors of the pagoda.

Hai had thought his wife would be livid over the dead koi. Instead, Qīn had told him that it was no big deal. What was important, his wife had stipulated, was that both Gwen and Percy were safe.

What a wonderful woman! Hai couldn't believe his ears. Had this been Helena, the decibel of her voice would have shattered the transmuted glass in the courtyard. His soul would have escaped his skull.

"You don't think it's a mistake asking her to be a bridesmaid, do you?" Qīn asked uncertainly. It was only natural. Any woman would want their wedding to proceed swimmingly.

"No, of course not, dear. Gwen might be in a bad mood now, but she always comes through in the end."

"All right, I trust you, Hai."

"The feeling is mutual." Hai tasted his fiancée’s flushed lips, held captive by her tenderness.

"So what do you think of my earlier proposal?"

"Ah." Hai felt his passions wane.

"I think this is a wonderful opportunity for Gwen to meet some of the young men in the local bureaucracy," Qīn continued. "I think she'll be far less troublesome if she can settle down with someone to look after her and teach her the ways."

"Umm…" Hai pulled away. "I don't know about that."

"Is Gwen not interested in boys? Well-mannered, good-looking boys from prominent families?"

"Em…" As a father, Hai wasn't sure how to respond. He couldn't exactly critique Gwen. In the past, he had brought hundreds of women home. From when Gwen was young, the girl had developed an especially hostile attitude toward men, particularly flatterers.

He was also reminded of her running home yammering about a train molester. Had that been a big deal? She'd just gone to her room after. Well, it wasn't as though Gwen had lost a piece of her flesh. Sometimes, an ass grab was just an ass grab. After all, Hai had grabbed plenty of buttocks in his time; understanding the context was important. From what the Railcorp officers had said, the man was likely going to gaol—an apt punishment for a man incapable of reading the situation.

"Hai, I need you to be on my side. Can you do that for me?" Qīn nibbled his earlobes, making his whole body quiver.

"I don't think Gwen would enjoy meeting young men like that," he mumbled. "I don't even know what kind of men Gwen is attracted to. As I've said, we're not the closest, ha."

"She needs someone to ground her, Hai, just as I need you." Qīn ran a hand against his abdomen and injected Positive Energy. "Hai?" His future wife worked her magic.

"You have my consent." Hai pulled his fiancée’s milky body closer. "But tell the youngsters not to be so pushy. Gwen doesn't like that. Agreed?"

"Of course, dear." Qīn was already straddling him like a jockey at an El Caballo Blanco horse show, cantering into a comfortable cadence.

"I was going to speak to Gwen." It took Hai several attempts to complete his sentence. "My father's still angry as well."

"Don't worry. Daddy will deal with Magus Guo." Qīn sealed his lips with her own, her eyes melting into him like liquid.

"Yeah, Gwen's a big girl," Hai's breathless voice added as an afterthought. "She'll be fine."

Chapter thirty

How to Make Gravy

Gwen ran full tilt through the side doors and into the courtyard, expecting to see an inquisitional court assembled for their Gwen hunt, racking her over the coals for the dead koi.

Instead, she was greeted by her babulya, seated beside a brewing pot of Maofeng Cha, the tea from Fur Peak. "Gwen, come."

Like a shy kitten, she made her way across the cold cobblestones. Despite sprinting for thirty minutes, she wasn't at all tired. At one point, she’d even made a four-meter leap between two estuary banks without incident. By the last stretch, she’d been overcome by a runner's high, where a strange euphoria, coupled with the vigorous circulation of Almudj's Essence, washed away all fatigue and anxiety. She’d felt so good that she’d opted for a second lap around the manor, trying to capture the trigger that had precipitated her chemical elation.

And so it was, almost twelve kilometres later, Gwen stood facing her grandmother, her trembling legs perspiring in the moonlight. "I am sorry, Babulya," she began.

"It's all right, child. I believe you weren't trying to take Percy's amulet." The warmth in her voice startled Gwen.

"I wasn't," Gwen said. "He was in pain and I thought I'd help. I didn't know that he had developed a complex about it."

"Percy has his circumstances," her babulya explained patiently. "Can you blame a boy for having a big sister he may never catch up to?"

"I see." Gwen lowered her head even as she felt a secret, vindicating thrill.

The truth was often stranger than fiction. She had suspected Percy's grievance but had doubted the extent to which her brother was under the green-eyed monster's spell.

"Well, I just wanted to know you were all right." Klavdiya took Gwen's hand and warmed her fingers. She then patted her granddaughter's cheeks, arranged her blouse, and brushed her skort. Russian grandmothers were very tactile people. "Can you spare an old woman a few minutes?"

"Of course, Babulya, anything you need."

"Just a few minutes will suffice, dear."

Grandmother and granddaughter found a cosy spot within the private pavilion. The water below was, unfortunately, empty of koi. Gwen sipped from the cup her grandmother passed over, awed by the Fur Tea's refreshing invigoration. Her babulya waited until she had settled before continuing.

"How are you feeling?"

"Awful," Gwen replied honestly, though the running had improved her mood drastically. "Babulya, can I say something you're not going to like?"

"Of course, dear."

"Morye, Hai, Dad—he's a terrible father. I can't stand his selfishness and I don't want to be a part of his wedding."

Klavdiya patted her hand. "I know that, dear."

"But I can't leave, can I?"

Her grandmother shook her head.

Gwen sighed. Her grandmother was nice, but she wasn't without baggage.

"Gwen, your father is, in many ways, still childish. I am afraid Guo has been too harsh on him since he was a boy."

"Sounds like Grandfather was too lenient," Gwen griped cattily.

"Oh, the number of times I had to heal Hai because Guo had beaten him within an inch of his life."

Gwen winced.

"I don't know what to do about Hai either," her babulya confessed, her face looking like she'd tasted a bitter lemon. "We had wanted the best for the boys, but Jun and Hai… Sometimes I wonder if things could've been simpler if we had stayed in Hubei or if I had stayed in Harbin. But then, of course, if all of us had neglected our duties on the Front, there might not be a China left. We would have scattered into the wind—a broken family—and you, my dear child, would not have existed."

Gwen wasn't sure how to respond. She had never had a doting grandmother, much less one who poured her heart out.

"Your grandfather is angry, Gwen, but he is not unnecessarily hostile because of you. This business with Hai has lost him a lot of respect. Secretary Liu's daughter is no shrinking violet. We could have called the whole thing off were it not for the fact that Qīn is with child. Our family has always stayed neutral to the politics within the CCP, but with this union, we've been pulled into Liu's Faction—the conservative faction. Do you see what I mean?"

Gwen felt a sense of déjà vu, thinking of Master Kilroy and his troubles with the factionism in Sydney. What did that portend if her family here were to be drawn into the CCP's internal politics?

"That's ominous," she muttered, not entirely understanding the context but wise enough to speculate.

"One would think so," Klavdiya said. "The CCP doesn't have factions in the traditional sense, like the Tower Mages, who share different worldviews. The factions within the party are simply power-hungry wolves banding together as much for safety as the acquisition of territory.

“Liu's faction falls under the banner of General Secretary Won Liping, and they have been aggressively seeking out allies. Your grandfather's position as the committee chair and secretary of the Confidential Communications Department must remain neutral; he holds too many secrets of the upper echelon to belong to one faction or another."

“Jesus,” Gwen muttered under her breath. Does that mean the family may fall from grace just because of my father's wayward dick?

"Babulya…" Gwen wanted to help, but she didn't know how. If she was Gunther or someone like her brother-in-craft, she could offer the family a haven in Australia. But she was just a student. "I don't know what to say."

"Guo wanted to cut ties with Liu, regardless of the child in Qīn's belly." her babulya spoke very quietly so that her voice was audible only to Gwen. "But that would put us in another dilemma—we would then be seen as a part of the Central Committee Chair, Yi Jinhua's faction."

"Bloody hell, fucking Dad." Gwen gnashed her pearly teeth. "Sorry."

"I hope you understand why Guo is so quick to anger," her babulya added. "The koi, the insult, the commotion with Percy, all of it weakens his position when negotiating with Liu."

Gwen couldn't accept her babulya's justification as a viable rationale. Having a fuckwit son was no reason to rag on the fool's perfectly estranged granddaughter.

"I see." Her babulya continued massaging Gwen's fingers. "You are right to be upset, Gwen. I can't deny you that."

"So what does Grandfather have in mind?"

"He doesn't know either, dear."

"There are things he doesn't know?" Gwen scoffed.

"There are too many things Guo knows. He knows Secretary Liu wouldn't free us from the hook that easily, especially now that the fisherman has unexpectedly snagged a mighty sturgeon."

"He should be careful. Maybe there’s a Dragon underneath the water."

"If only, my dear. Nothing is ever simple when there is the temptation of power involved. Guo and I agree that we don't want you to be involved. It may be too late to refuse your father now, but I promise things will be better from here on in. You won't have to do anything other than show up, walk the aisle, and then sit quietly until the banquet ends."

"Okay, Babulya." Gwen squeezed the old woman's hands. Even now, she was thinking of campus life and how removed it was from all this unwarranted drama.

The futility of it all grated on her. She might be able to whittle down a Thunder Wyvern, but she couldn't prevent her father from marrying the woman of his dreams and fucking his own family over in the process.

Or could she? The temptation was astoundingly poignant.

"What about Percy? Is he all right?"

Her babulya put on a complex expression that was difficult to read. "Guo has set a tightrope for Percy to walk, and your brother refuses to get off." Her grandmother took a long draught of the scalding tea. "All I can do is be there to catch them when they fall. Do you know what I mean?"

Gwen bit her lips with annoyance. She understood, but her babulya's martyrdom filled her with indignity.

"You have your own life, Gwen." Her babulya brushed back a lock of hair from Gwen's grim face. "After the IIUC, whether Fudan emerges victorious or otherwise, you will enter the service of the Commonwealth Towers. You may serve yourself or join a Tower Faction, as your Master had done. We will be at odds, even if not entirely, but at odds. These days that we have enjoyed in each other's company, and indeed the days to come, will all become pleasant memories as our paths divide.

“I want you to remember us fondly. We were absent grandparents, and in many ways, we're still incapable of being here for you. Guo and I, we're imperfect people compelled by circumstance, and I hope you can forgive us for being so selfish."

Gwen felt a convulsion of hurtful passions wrecking her chest. Her babulya's kindness was the cruellest cut. What could she say after that? All she could do was hold the old woman, thinking of the alternative.

Would it have been better if she had never met Klavidya? Then what?

No Babulya.

No Petra.

No Mina or Tao.

No Mayuree.

No Uncle Jun.

The alternative prospect was too terrible to bear.

She shivered, feeling goosebumps crawl all over her body. Her babulya noticed and channelled a mote of positive mana into her body. Gwen's Almudj Essence reacted, pushing the foreign element from her mana channels.

Klavdiya raised an eyebrow. She looked as though she wanted to comment but shook her head instead.

"Your skirt is a little too short, don't you think?" It was a very grandmotherly thing to say.

"Oh no, Babulya, this is a pair of shorts." Gwen rose and spun for her babulya. "It's a skort."

"All right, dear." Her grandmother chuckled. "I guess we should both go to bed. Can you think about what I've said?"

"I will." Gwen leaned in and kissed her cheeks. "Oh yeah, I also have a gift for you from Uncle Jun and me." She produced ten jars of Wildland Honey straight from the hive and a Beggar's Chicken still in its clay casing. "This is for you. The chook is from a while ago, from my and Pat's favourite joint on University Road."

Her grandmother opened a jar and dipped a finger into the honey. She savoured the taste of life force contained therein. "Thank you; this is a wondrous gift."

"You're going to get younger and younger, Babulya. We'll be seeing each other and having luncheons for eons," Gwen declared, her voice breaking on the last few syllables. "Soon, Aunty Nen will wonder when she had a sister."

The two women chuckled, each thoughtful with their private thoughts.

"Goodnight, Gwen."

"G'night, Babulya."

Her grandmother left.

Gwen made for the guest rooms, where she and her uncle had stayed. To her dismay, she was alone. Her uncle was staying in the west wing, together with the family, while Gwen—the black sheep of the Song Clan, was accommodated on the south side.

Other guests were also staying when she returned, but as it was well past midnight, they were already behind closed doors.

Her double room felt larger without Jun; the bleak seventeenth-century architecture felt far older and more dilapidated now that whitewashed walls were her only companion. There wasn't even an ensuite in the outdated design of the guest room, and she was no longer in possession of Hai's gift of underpants.

Feeling bloated with thoughts of separation and mortality, she resolved to change out of her clothes and wipe herself down with a damp cloth. She switched to a pair of cotton shorts and singlet, then slipped into the soft silk covers of the single bed, the only twenty-first-century amenity within the room.

“Ariel?”

The Marten appeared beside her, still asleep, gently snoring as it digested the cores. She hugged her Familiar against her chest, buried her face into its fur, and rested her mind against the darkness.

Ayxin sat in her section of the White Jade Palace, pondering the possibilities associated with the attire held out before her.

It was an anthropomorphic iMage of a cat. There were two small love hearts, one pink and the other scarlet, on its left and right. At the bottom, just above the navel, was printed in carmine the nonsensical words "Hello Kitty".

She sighed, feeling like a set of mystical manacles held her captive. Her heart, not to mention her core, had pounded at her ribcage when her father had offered her life to the Ash Bringer.

Reaching into a pocket space she had created to mimic the effect of the human's storage rings, she produced the makeup kit that Jun's niece had given her.

Within the self-contained box was a cheap mirror, beneath which were three brushes, one large and two small, a tube of something called “mascara”, and a palette of mineral powders.

Ayxin recalled that Gwen had made up a face, thinking she would be granted an audience with her father. How foolish these humans were, inefficient and lacklustre, that they had to use such mortal substances to make up for what the heavens had not given them.

Ayxin looked into the mirror, examining her not-entirely-human face. She blinked. Her eyes took on the thick outline Gwen had painstakingly drawn over a minute, not daring to move or sneeze.

The effect was… interesting. Her sky-coloured pupils became more pronounced. The winged tips and deep eye shadow reminded her of the mountain cats they had in the lower reaches. Did this mean humans were attracted to felines? If so, what did they think about demi-human Leonines?

She blinked again, cycling through the colours. Ayxin chuckled to herself, making her lashes longer, thicker, curlier, until her face became ridiculous.

"Ayxin?" Golos's grunt sounded behind her.

The makeup kit snapped shut and disappeared into the pocket space. She turned angrily to regard her unannounced visitor.

"Father's teeth! Did Ryxi assault you? I wouldn't have thought he had the gall!" The Wyvern visibly shivered. Golos was likewise in his human form. Prophetically, their father had instructed herself and Golos to exercise their humanoid appearances; as usual, neither of the siblings had questioned the Yinglong's wisdom.

Her brother pointed his forefinger at her bruised, black-purple eye sockets. "Your eyes, they loo—"

“I said I AM FINE, Golos!”

"All right."

In his human form, the Thunder Wyvern resembled a barrel-chested and long-limbed bouncer with a tremendous silvery beard across wide square jaws and a butt chin. His eyes, poorly formed by inexperience in changing his morphic field, remained reptilian and alien, with a high bone ridge where a bushy brow should be, running up either side of his temples until they formed a secondary ridge down the back of his skull.

"Why are you here?"

"Thought I'd say goodbye. Father says I will be leaving for Mandalay. For now, I am to search out Ruxin."

"I see."

"When are you leaving?"

"Leaving?" Ayxin raised a ridged brow. "Why would I leave the mount?"

Golos glanced at the shirt with the kitten. Ayxin snatched it from the marble table and stowed it away. She was the only one who could access her pocket dimensions. Not even their father could pry when Ayxin desired privacy.

"You're not very honest," Golos said. "You in heat?"

"How's your anus, Golos?"

He growled.

"I thought as much. Get out."

She watched as Golos swaggered elsewhere. Her half-sibling would have been more convincing if he had not suffered nightmares since that day. She had even heard that he'd stopped harassing creatures in his domain.

With the bullish buffoon sent away, Ayxin re-materialised the Hello Kitty t-shirt, then ran a hand over the cotton fabric.

The turmoil she felt was painful to put into words, even Draconic ones. The Ash Bringer was a mere human; his race was short-lived and transient. Yet, listening to the man extolling his faith in his niece, the Calamity foretold by her father’s prophecy, she’d felt… longing.

That and resentment, confusion and discontentment. She couldn't understand why a mere mortal girl, especially one so calamitous to those close to her, could receive such devotion and care from her kin while she sat alone, loitering in a cold palace as her father slumbered and Ryxi pruned trees, with Golos rubbing ointments into his swollen nether regions.

Dragons were covetous beings, and Ayxin was just as much a benefactor of their bloodline's blessing as a victim of its curse. What the girl possessed she would have as well. Not to embrace her inferior human side—Ayxin excused her mental weakness—but a girl wants what a girl wants.

Much more a Winged Dragon.

Gwen awoke to the sound of commotion from outside her room. The walls were wood and clay, while the windows were transmuted glass made to look like paper parchment. Neither provided a solid barrier against noise.

Rubbing her eyes, she opened the double doors to see what the uproar was about.

The entire courtyard of the south wing was a hive of activity, and from the racket, it was evident that decorative renovations were happening. NoMs were applying fresh stains to everything that could be seen, especially the faded red pillars. All around her, workmen and lesser Mages were lifting plaques and installing giant red "DOUBLE LUCKY" pictograms hung upside down on every visible window and door.

Gwen shut the door and wondered why no one had come to wake her. She checked her device and saw that it was nine am. Tossing on a tunic, she washed her face and brushed her teeth.

"Where's everyone gone?" she asked one of the scurrying servants from the window slit.

"The family is taking breakfast in the east wing, main hall."

"Gotcha."

She threw on a halter-neck maxi and strapped in her wedge sandals, then followed the maid through the winding corridors until they reached the scene of a breakfast banquet.

The family, both the Songs and the Lius, were already eating. She bowed before finding her seat at the table, intuitively seating herself beside Jun.

Breakfast consisted of fried dough and six-treasure porridge, a local speciality made from Wildland nuts and fruits, combined with the famous Jiangnan rice to form a thick gruel that warmed the stomach and filled the body with energy.

"Uncle." Gwen waited for a servant to fill her bowl.

"Gwen, how was your sleep?"

"Well enough," she replied sweetly.

"Good." Jun sipped his congee. The military man worked at the gruel before placing the bowl conclusively onto the table. "I need to head back to the base for a week. Hai has requested that you stay here to help with the wedding. I'll be back first thing on Sunday."

"No buck's party?” Gwen felt suddenly hollow. Jun was leaving? So soon?

"No, thank Mao." Jun shot a glance at Guo and Patriarch Liu. There was Qīn next to her father as well. "I don't think either of those three would have wanted to see Hai in that condition."

She chuckled uncomfortably. Did Mage-world Shanghai even have strippers? Knowing the precarious status of NoMs in this world, Gwen had no desire to witness the debasement of women whose only worth was a pretty face. Was her father even capable of enduring a hands-free lap dance?

But maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Surely no one could blame the Song family if Hai sabotaged his wedding. Nonetheless, the dismissal of the buck's party was agreeable to Gwen, for it meant uncle Jun wouldn’t be surrounded by harlots.

"I am going to miss you, Uncle," she muttered despairingly. With Jun gone, she would be left with only Babulya, but her grandmother's affections weren't Gwen's alone.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," Jun announced. "I promise."

Gwen wanted to reply, but the violent upwelling of longing for her uncle to remain beside her had caught her by surprise, catching her tongue in a snare of confusing emotions.

"There, there." Jun patted her shoulder clumsily, awkward in his public affection.

Her uncle's fatherliness proved too much. Not even the shame of her thirty-year-old self could dispel the meniscus of emotions ballooning her chest like a Xenomorph. She turned and hugged him, wrapping her arms around Jun's waist, then kissed him on the cheeks.

From across the table, Hai stared at Jun, his expression one of disbelief.

In her uncle's arms, Gwen grinned guiltily.

"She's very close to your brother," Hai’s fiancée remarked to her husband-to-be once they were in the privacy of the east wing. Many invitations were awaiting the penning of personal greetings.

"I'll say." Hai licked his parched lips. His heavy-hanging eye bags indicated a shortage of restful sleep.

"You don't suppose Gwen has…?"

Hai raised a brow.

"Grown fonder of her uncle than you?"

"Well, I wouldn't know about that," Hai grumbled defensively, scratching his nose.

"She's growing up with or without you, Hai," his lover advised with great sagacity. "I am worried your rare flower might be plucked from the horrors by some vagabond or a scoundrel. You, of all people, should know how bad it gets in Shanghai, dear.”

“Gwen’s capable of taking care of herself,” Hai muttered, thinking of the time he’d flown into Rosebay to save her, only to see her brutally massacring her assailant, some gloop creature constituted of black slime, all while in her birthday suit. It was the unfortunate young men of Hangzhou who should be afraid.

"Don't fret. Gwen will have plenty of options," Qīn continued. "I've got an impressive line-up of eligible bachelors for her to browse over at her leisure, not to mention her groomsmen is one in a million."

"Look, I don't think this is the best idea."

"I've got it taken care of." Qīn kissed his collarbone, massaging him with soothing motes of positive mana.

Hai could hardly tear himself away from his fiancée's almond eyes. Here was a woman who was madly and deeply in love. What if Qīn could find a partner for Gwen, just as she had discovered him? Gwen couldn't fault her father for thinking of her happiness, surely?

Jun left as soon as breakfast had wrapped up, disappearing out the door before the warmth of his hands on her back had even faded.

What remained were duties for every member of the family.

As the wedding was being undertaken on short notice, many of the elderly members of the Liu Clan intended to visit friends and family with gifts and invitations. Secretary Liu himself would be visiting his associates as well, leaving the running of the reception to Qīn.

As Qīn's mother was unfortunately deceased, Hai's parents, older than her father by a decade, would double-duty as her elders, receiving guests as they arrived over the next few days.

Babulya was right; the ordeal was a vortex of “guanxi”—an undertow of filial and political ties that sucked the Songs into its depths, willing or otherwise.

When it came to Gwen, her grandfather came through as promised. A fierce "Gwen is busy" was enough to prevent Qīn from further employing Gwen's time. She had only one job that required her presence—get fitted for her bridesmaid's dress.

It was a position she was more than happy to occupy.

"Go enjoy yourself around the city, see the sights. Go for a boat tour around the West Lake," her father informed her. "You just came back from a gruelling trip. Unwind. I could see you were very tense yesterday."

Then where the fuck were you yesterday? Gwen suppressed the words hammering at her lips. She was surprised no one had mentioned the koi, least of all her father. Poor koi. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

As Jun had done, Hai reached out for a hug, but Gwen shrank away, leaving her father hanging. "I'll go see about this dress, then."

"I'll send Ah-Bei with you," Qīn chimed in. Her siren's voice possessed a husky timbre mellow enough to melt the bones of any man. It was the sort of hyper-femininity Gwen could never affect, even if she tried. "He knows the city like the back of his hand."

"Thanks, Aunty Qīn." Gwen dipped her head.

"'Mama' will suffice, or Nīang, as we say in the Wu dialect," Qīn annunciated expertly, biting the assonance.

You're my age and look like you're in your twenties! Gwen screamed internally. I'll call you mother over my father's dead body. "Thank you, Aunty." Gwen held her tongue.

The two women smiled at each other warmly.

Her father looked at his goosebumps. "Is it cold in here or what? It's hot as ever today."

A servant presented himself in front of Gwen, bowing deeply. It was the same man Gwen had seen on their first meeting with Qīn. "I am Liang Bei." The man dipped his head. He had the bearing of a man who awoke tired. "At your pleasure, Mistress Song."

Gwen shook the man's hand. It wasn't just a touch, a gesture from a superior to encourage a subordinate. It was a proper greeting, palm to palm, applied with force and intent. "Good to meet you, Bei. I'll be in your hands."

Bei bowed a little deeper.

"Father, I am off."

"Stay out of trouble, Gwen."

"You know I won't!"

She knew her fate far too well to joke.

Bei commandeered a vehicle from the underground garage, playing guide and chauffeur. Once inside, Gwen changed her heels for pumps. If she was going to take five days off from “life” and stay out of trouble, she wanted to shop, jog, and experience the heavenly sights around Hangzhou.

First stop, the dressmaker’s.

"Hangzhou is one of the best places in the world for Wildland silk, Mistress," Bei advised her. "We will go to the city's largest silk market, Fengqi Road number 273. It is a very expensive locale. Even mundane dresses cost thousands to tens of thousands of RMBs. If you wish to purchase Wildland silk, the vendors only accept HDMs."

"How expensive are we talking about?" Gwen packed her slippers, slipping a foot into the sky-blue pumps she'd acquired in Shanghai. It was too bad there was no Instagram. She would have had an entirely different career path if she had been in her seventeen-year-old body with unlimited fashion funds in her old world.

"The vendors will try to rip you off, Mistress, because you are a foreigner and a Mage from another city, not to mention a young girl. Sometimes the greedy merchants ask for many times the value or even sell you fake products."

"Then why are we going there?" Gwen asked quizzically.

"Because they need the secretary's support to continue their business," Bei informed her, his cracked lips curling on either side. "Mistress has said to spare no expense on your bridesmaid’s dress, so long as it is appropriate. Her only request is that you purchase in a particular shade of cream. I have the sample fabric right here."

Gwen examined the slip, rubbing the fabric between her hands. It was smooth beyond belief, gliding between her thumb and forefinger without friction. The silk was the real deal, a fabric that felt like cold water. "Very nice."

The stimuli made her recall Ayxin, whose entire garb had been mythical gossamer. At the thought of the Dragon woman, her Divination Sigil tingled. Without formal training, her sigil was less definitive than her daily horoscopes, not that Gwen needed premonition to know that the woman was bad news.

"Hmm." The vision of an anxious face entered her mind. Didn't she have a Diviner on a lifeline?

She dialled Mayuree. "Mia, it's me, Gwen."

"Gwen! Oh, thank the goddess, you’re back!"

"My favourite Diviner. How're things?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know. I haven't left the house for a week."

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm serious. What do you think? You have no idea how happy I am to hear from you. Are you back?"

"Sorry, not yet," Gwen said. "Next time, we'll go Adventuring together."

"You bet," Mayuree answered sweetly. "So are you close? Are you within reach of a tier-seven Teleportation scroll?"

"Er, I am in Hangzhou."

"Oh."

"My father's getting married," Gwen took a moment to explain her situation to her Diviner companion. "I was wondering if you could do an Augury for me. I want to know if the wedding will be a shit show."

"Gwen, that's terrible!" Mayuree replied, sounding scandalised by her shocking proclamation. In response, Gwen detailed the context for her paranoia, then further explained that she had accidentally killed the bride's prized koi.

"Oh, Gwennie." Gwen could almost see her friend scowling, clenching her jaws adorably as she grimaced. "All right, give me a few moments."

The Message disconnected while Gwen waited.

"Mistress, we're here," Bei informed her.

Indeed, the car was stationary. "Bei, where are you from?" she asked.

"Me?" Bei seemed surprised.

"Yeah, you've known the Liu family for long?"

"All my life, Mistress."

The two made small talk. According to the manservant, Bei's family had served Qīn's for as long as he could recall.

Ding!

Ten minutes later, her Message Device pinged.

"Mia?"

"Hi, I am back."

"So, how is it?"

"It's hard to say."

"How hard to say, exactly?" Gwen replied, disappointed.

"Well, according to my Augury, there will be weal and woe on the wedding day."

"That's to be expected, I suppose."

"So I tried a higher-order Divination and sought specific outcomes. Do you want to hear them? Do you recall what happened to me?"

Mayuree's rhetorical question reminded Gwen of what the Diviner had said—knowing your future was like hammering the final nail in your coffin. "Do you think I should know?"

"No," Mayuree answered honestly.

Gwen relented. "Okay, I'll deal with it myself."

"Phew, ha-ha. I wasn't going to tell you anyway." Mayuree's voice was relieved.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Mia."

"So when are you expecting to be back?"

"Six, seven days at worst?"

"All right." Mayuree's tone relaxed, which informed Gwen more than she had desired to know. If she were going to be in danger, Mayuree wouldn't just sit on her hands. "See you then. I can send a car to pick you up from Hangzhou if you don't have a ride back to Fudan."

"That's good to know." Indeed, if she had to be cooped up in a van with Guo and Percy, Lord knows what would happen if she started leaking Dragon Fear.

The link broke off. "Bei? I am done."

To her embarrassment, her patient manservant was already waiting beside the passenger door. "All right," Gwen spoke to no one in particular. "Let's see about this dress."

Chapter thirty-one

Confessions of a Dragon-Kin in Hangzhou

Hangzhou.

Once the Dragon Mage passed the Dragon Pine, she began to feel the oppressive resonance of humanity's Shielding Stones pounding at her chest. Her core hummed unpleasantly, hinting at the violent end that awaited Ayxin should she persist in approaching the city.

So this was the infamous shielding magic employed by the humans to keep out demi-humans and magical monsters. She scoffed, displeased by the sensation. The strange frequency disrupted the flow of elemental mana within her body, giving her an impression akin to being underwater.

Ayxin circulated her spatial magic until the throbbing in her chest ceased.

Her progenitor was truly all-seeing and all-knowing. Humanity's “shield” was beyond Ayxin's archaic knowledge of human Spellcraft. But as a coincidence two centuries in the making would have it, she was uniquely equipped to negate its effects.

Was that why her father had not stopped her from performing her fool's errand?

The resonance was a form of highly attuned spatial Abjuration magic, and Ayxin possessed the talent to defuse its disruptive focus. She felt a strange thrill, knowing that Ruxin, Golos, and even her father could be stopped once enough shields overlapped.

With a few careful incantations, she tied off the elaborate Enchantment mandala encircling her core on all six sides. The full force of her Draconic powers would be suppressed until she released the seal, but what prowess remained was sufficient to uproot a small township.

As for her appearance, Ayxin had conveniently assumed Jun's niece's skinny form. One reason was because she had meticulously studied the girl while she’d bathed, trying to fathom the Ash Bringer's preferences, and the other was that they shared a minute resonance thanks to the girl utilising Ayxin's scale to temper her Draconic Essence.

Though Gwen's likeness proved no obstacle, some physical elements remained immutable, such as Ayxin's sky-blue eyes and a certain air of androgyny.

Then there was a more pragmatic reason. The only modern attire Ayxin possessed was the one the niece had given her. That and the "Hello Kitty" tunic, an item she dared not risk on an uncertain, covert journey.

Thus attired as Gwen's simulacrum, clad in wedge heels and a white tunic-sundress, Ayxin-Gwen approached the way station that marked the boundary into Hangzhou. Once inside the city, her scale would guide her to Gwen and, as such, Jun.

In her pocket dimension, she had brought several treasures desirable to humans and the old documentation she had imprinted in blood with the human regime. The problem was she had no idea if the same regime still ruled the human world.

If she was wrong, she would have to negotiate with the humans' cumbersome bureaucracy. If she was right, the contract compelled the regime to at least heed her request. Unless she were to wipe out a human settlement, there was no reason to anger the direct descendent of the Yinglong.

Having thus mused between presenting herself in an officious or private capacity, Ayxin chose the latter. She was there to see about a man, not to cause an incident. She wondered if it was possible to demand Jun Song from the city's rulers, though that may well sour her relationship with the Ash Bringer.

Empathically, if the Yinglong offered Ayxin, his beloved vessel, to another Dragon, she would likely fight the snake spawn. Therefore, she had to take matters into her own clawed hands.

"Halt!"

The border guards, two frail-looking humans with barely detectable innate mana, stared at Ayxin with disbelief.

"Isn't that Miss Song, the one travelling with the Ash Bringer?"

"Didn't she pass by two days ago? There shouldn’t be another gweilo girl in a sundress in the middle of a Purple Zone."

"Maybe she went out on her own again."

"She doesn't look like she's dressed for Questing, though."

"Don't look at me." The first shrugged. "I am not in the business of presuming what our betters do for fun. Straighten up, Corporal.”

The girl strolled toward them, struggling to balance on her shoes. "Here are my documents." Ayxin's eyes glowed with the subtle light of Enchantment, her tongue delivering a Draconic incantation as she held their gaze captive.

"Everything's in order, ma'am." The first guard nodded at the handkerchief she had handed him. "It's a long way from here to the city if you're going on foot."

"I'll fly," Ayxin cooly replied.

The second guard saluted her for some reason.

"Where can I find the Ash Bringer?" she demanded, her voice empowered with old magic as a persistent Suggestion.

"The Liu Manor, ma'am. The word from the top says that the secretary is finally marrying off his daughter. The groom is Captain Song's brother. Lots of the brass will be attending, as well as the prominent local families."

"Where is this manor?"

"West Lake, western quarter, ma'am. It's the largest complex there."

"Thank you, Corporal Du."

"At your service, ma'am!"

"I wasn't here, and you saw nothing."

"Yes, ma'am, we saw nothing.”

Satisfied, she went on her way.

Far from the outpost, Ayxin flew, her voluminous hair billowing behind her shoulders. The torturous shoes the girl had given her required more concentration to muster than the magic she had used to confound the soldiers. Also, the unergonomic angle of the heels grated on her ankles and the peep-toe tip made her pink appendages arch uncomfortably, forcing her off-balance.

Once the Dragon Mage was away from the checkpoint, she lifted herself into the air, freeing the weight on the ball of her foot.

Upon reaching a suitable height, Ayxin accelerated, making for Hangzhou city. If she flew at a low altitude to avoid detection, the journey would take several hours.

Ayxin contemplatively hefted a handful of crystals in her hand. She had about a hundred LDMs and a dozen HDMs. Her cache of human currency had been solicited from a man who had accosted her, complimented her on her physical beauty, and then offered to take her to see the Ash Bringer.

Ruminating profoundly, she attempted to trace the last few hours of chaos.

When she had arrived at the city's outskirts at night, she’d become immediately disorientated by the horrendous butchery the humans had executed upon the once natural landscape. In her memory, Hangzhou was a beautiful city of rivers and estuaries, seated in a floodplain, surrounded by an extensive network of walls that shielded its population from Wildland Magical Beasts.

Instead, Ayxin had been mortified by the sight of a human city stretching from horizon to horizon, utterly obfuscating every natural landmark, sprawled across every conceivable space, stripping out all but small tuffs of greenery from the once verdant land.

Then there was the mana miasma. She had taken a lungful of it as soon as she’d reached the city proper, and the thickness of the spent mana fog had almost sent her tumbling from the sky.

These humans—they were a parasite! A blight upon the world!

She couldn't even tell where West Lake was! A concrete jungle so tightly packed stretched out in front of her that it was impossible to discern where one township ended and another began. It was as though the city centre was a fat, fleshy spider perched on the floodplain, while all around it, silk threads in the form of highways burst like an erupted cocoon across the once virgin land.

She had felt stricken by unbidden nausea, unsure if it was because of the smoggy pollutants in the air or if the reality of humanity's usurpation exceeded her wildest nightmares. As primordial beings, Dragons were given life by the Prime Material Plane. As a race, they were especially sensitive to the changes in an area's elemental composition.

No wonder humans had such short life spans! If she could persuade Jun to leave the human city, there would be hope for the Ash Mage.

Lost and heady with sickness, she alighted somewhere discreet, then made for the town centre, wondering if someone would know where the Ash Bringer was.

And that was when she’d met the man who’d deceived her.

"Of course, I know him! He's famous," he had announced boisterously. "Right this way, miss, I'll give you a ride straight to his house by the West Lake."

The liar was an ugly man, apish and small, not unlike the Canhu monkey-men who inhabited Huangshan, only this one was wearing a suit.

He directed her to a vehicle, one that, to Ayxin, looked to be in bad shape. Two other young men were in the large cargo vehicle with him. Both appeared shocked that their companion had not only returned but had brought Ayxin with him.

The men said nothing while the monkey-man drove, their faces remaining incredulous as they wantonly gazed at Ayxin. Skimming their minds, Ayxin affirmed that Gwen Song possessed very desirable physical traits, as she could taste the lust oozing from the men's brains.

After some time, the vehicle stopped. Then the men told her that they were not going to West Lake. The bold proclamation confused Ayxin, who could hardly fathom why these apish, low-life existences would deceive her. It was as ridiculous as a Merfolk offering Golos its young, only to pass it off as a joke when the Thunder Wyvern arrived, hungry and anticipating a fulfilling meal.

"Are you saying that you do not know the whereabouts of the Ash Bringer?" Ayxin asked, her voice raising an octave.

"Bitch, are you slow?" The men laughed at her.

Ayxin laughed as well. The situation was novel indeed. It was a refreshing experience to interact with these strange and mortal creatures in such a manner. The Dragon was rapidly learning about the duplicitous nature of Man. It was odd because when she’d resided among the humans some two centuries ago, they’d come only in two types—dangerous or grovelling.

"Maybe she is slow," one of the others commented.

"You are wrong," Ayxin informed the liar's companion. "I can be very fast if I want to."

The men grinned at each other. One of them reached out to touch her thighs.

To prove her earlier point, Ayxin reached out simultaneously. She was faster—much faster.

“Wha—ARRRGHH EEEEERAARRR!”

She plucked out the man's eyeballs, using Gwen's thin fingers as hooks, then tossed them at the screamer's wide-eyed companion, who juggled the orbs comically in abject horror.

The monkey-man who'd led her here must have been uncannily intelligent because he kicked open the vehicle door and immediately fled.

"Pok!" she spat from her soft lips. The Draconic was less effective because the fleshy flaps of her human mouth impeded her enunciation.

The man froze, his face a mask of agony as every muscle obeyed Ayxin's command.

The remaining human attempted to stab her with a metallic implement. Her flesh proved impervious, but Gwen's dress was less study than Ayxin's Draconic body.

"What are you?" The man's eyes widened, finally realising that they were not dealing with a breathtakingly beautiful simpleton who had wandered into the wrong part of town.

"Take me to the Ash Bringer." Ayxin instilled a little Dragon Fear into her voice.

The man's eyes bulged, then made a gagging sound before hurling his last meal over the floor. Ayxin watched the yellow fluid splatter onto her shoes. A vein beneath the dermis of her temple throbbed. Now she knew she had indeed been deceived. Her Draconic Mind Magic couldn't compel a victim to confess that which they did not know.

"Don't kill me!" the man begged. "We'll give you everything we have. All the money and crystals we've got on us!"

A Dragon never said no to crystals. The blinded man continued to wail even as his companion searched him. The monkey-man, held by command, was more compliant.

Ayxin was expediently presented with an assortment of paper and crystals.

She tossed the paper bills and kept the crystals. With a casual backhand, she knocked the man who had vomited on her across the forehead, sinking his face into the glass pane of the vehicle. As for the liar hung by her incantation outside, she broke both of his legs with a swift kick, crumpling the man like paper. Her final assailant responded by throwing himself into a passionate and bloody series of kowtows that polluted the pavement.

Such frail beings, these humans, Ayxin mused. There was no sport in killing them.

Leaving the men, Ayxin tried to orientate herself, to no avail. The mana haze was too thick, and the elements would not heed her call. Short of wiping the human blight from the earth, she would have to navigate as the mortals did.

When she emerged from the alleyway, another male immediately accosted her. This older man professed to be the proprietor of an eatery, the front of which she now occupied, drawing an audience.

"Mao! What happened to you?"

The man had been so surprised upon seeing her cut dress that his cigarette fell from his lips.

"I am fine, sir," Ayxin replied. "I am looking for the Ash Bringer. If you could point me in the right direction, I shall reward you."

"The who and what?" The old man regarded her critically. "You feeling all right, miss?"

"Jun Song, the Ash Bringer," she repeated herself. "I need to find him."

"Why are you looking for the Hero of the North?"

Ayxin considered the man's question carefully. She was in Gwen's form, so saying that she was looking for her future mate would be grossly unfair and somewhat off-putting. Dragons could be incestuous, but she was human, for now.

"He is my uncle," Ayxin noted matter-of-factly.

The old man raised an eyebrow, showing no indication that he believed her.

"You can't walk around here like that. It's not safe. Hooligans and hoodlums are all over the place. The PLA doesn't give a shit about the districts."

"Please point me in the right direction. I am not afraid of bandits and brigands. I lack currency."

"I don't think they'll want your money, miss."

"That is acceptable. I would like theirs."

An awkward silence passed.

"Look, at least come in and clean yourself."

"Not necessary, old sir, though I thank you for offering it."

The human snorted derisively at her dismissal, shaking his head.

"Nartok!" A burst of Elemental Water erupted from thin air, enveloping her body and soaking the dress. The old man's eyes grew as large as a hen's eggs. Though the elements were rarified in the NoM district, she could still summon magic through the gate within her body. It took a minute for the Water Elementals to finish their task, leaving her dress, face and hair spotless and dry.

By then, a small crowd had gathered.

"Mao! Why didn't you say you're Mage? A Water Mage at that! Sorry for asking." The old man seemed to Ayxin to be uncharacteristically offended. There was a scent of fear that now circulated his body. The man turned to leave.

"Do you know where the Ash Bringer is?" Ayxin said, forcing the old man to answer her against his will.

The man's eyes glazed over. "No, why would I know that? He's a national hero. They don't come to NoM districts. Try the West Lake. That's where all the Mages live."

West Lake. Where in this light-polluted cesspool of human habitation was West Lake?

Should she, perhaps, perform an aerial survey? But suppose she glaringly flew through the city. In that case, she might immediately give herself away, ruining the surprise of her future meeting with Jun and informing the local authorities that they had an esteemed guest that required immediate chaperoning. In the worst case, the ruler migh expel her before she can attend this “wedding”.

Luckily, a crowd of humans was at her beck and call. "You people," she edged her voice with an irresistible will. "Show me the way to West Lake."

"This way!" The crowd of humans stood to attention. Immediately, they began to walk in different directions, each supremely confident in their knowledge of where West Lake might be.

Ayxin stood stunned, staring at the dispersing crowd. What in my progenitor's name is wrong with these humans?

Ayxin hadn't slept for two, maybe three days.

Dragons cultivate by sleeping. The more one slept, the more their natural prowess grew. With their limited lifespans, humans lived every day as though it was their last moment on the Material Plane. At least, that was the impression Ayxin got when observing those she’d enlisted to aid her progress.

The motes of mana from the planes grew thinner the deeper she ventured into the human territory, meaning she had to find sustenance in more mortal forms. When she got hungry, she ate, asking vendors and passersby for food, spending all her crystals. Later, the humans became upset when she could not front up the necessary currency.

Thirst was easier. There were plenty of estuaries with clear water for Ayxin to wander into and slake her thirst. Her actions always drew an audience, which Ayxin found humorous, noting with irony that the humans themselves were constitutionally too weak to enjoy the bounty of nature.

Her haughty practice lasted until she saw a child urinate into the river.

The crowd gathered around her drinking from the stream almost simultaneously pissed and shat themselves when Ayxin endured a regret never before felt in her two centuries of life.

She then tried summoning fresh water directly from the Elemental Plane, but the water was likewise polluted by whatever the city was pumping back into the plane. After several such occurrences, she acquired bottles of purified water.

By the second day, Ayxin had lost count of how many times these humans had tried to deceive her, lure her to strange places, and misdirect her quest. Inevitably, she left them broken and abandoned somewhere.

How quickly human society has changed in only two centuries, Ayxin reflected in dismay. When she’d been a child, she had never seen the outside world. She had only been taken from the interior courtyard and onto the streets when she’d left the household and made her journey to Huangshan. As she’d passed, elevated upon an elaborate palanquin, the peasants had dropped to their knees in worship of Ayxin's Daoshi entourage.

After six days, her escorts had left her at the threshold of the Hundred-Thousand Terrace. That salient memory of lowered heads and stooped shoulders had thus shaped her idea of humanity.

Even when the emissary from the humans had come to see her father some five decades ago, they had lowered their heads and spoken in soft, polite tones. None had dared to meet her eyes, much less demand anything of her. Of course, Ayxin knew she’d been borrowing her father's terror, but her prejudice remained.

Yet here, everyone glanced at her, stared at her, and watched her every move without fear. People came up to her to ask questions, followed her, and even offered her food and printed iMages on sheets of paper! One daring male even offered her crystal currency, blurting out that he wished to mate with her!

Of course, she wasn't in her Draconic form. But still, Ayxin was both thrilled and disgusted. How bold the human race had become!

She could feel the avarice and greed drooling from their psyche like a palpable slick. Was this what her father was afraid of—that the humans were a greedy, gluttonous parasitic existence that consumed all matter within reach of their grubby digits?

When she finally reached West Lake, she felt like a year had passed, not three days. She appeared to be in a reserved area, thankfully cleared of the debris-like buildings the humans used for habitation. There, the resonance of the Shielding Crystal was strongest, hinting at the presence of the central station somewhere within the middle of the lake. However, the mana within the region was purer, allowing her to rest.

There, at the park, she ignored the passersby, found a bench, sprawled herself on top of the stone surface, and promptly fell asleep.

"Hey, cutie, you looking for a place to sleep? How come you're not jogging today?"

Ayxin opened her eyes. She was surrounded by humans, about a dozen of them.

"I didn't think you were a local but, damn, who'd have thought you were homeless? You need someone to take care of you."

The speaker was a human male.

She must have slept for a whole day, judging from the pale light of the risen moon.

Rubbing her eyes to clear the mucus, she found that twelve hours of rest was not nearly sufficient to dispel the mental fatigue she felt. The elemental mana there was too thin, too displaced from the planes to cultivate. She had been tempted to surround herself with the densely packed crystals the humans used for currency, but she knew well enough not to entice trouble.

But what was this circle of young men and a few women doing standing beside her?

The smell of sex was rank as her gaze swept her observers. Several of them were in heat, both the males and the females, though the heaviest stink was the acrid stench of yellow-bellied fear. They reminded Ayxin of the scavengers on the mount, especially the crows. When the birds found an abandoned young animal, they pecked out their victim's eyes, then waited for the panicking sufferer to tire.

Fear of what? If they were afraid of Ayxin, they would not have accosted her like this.

She traced their eyes until their line of sight converged on the speaker, who looked to be in his late twenties. The man had the bearing of an alpha male—broad-chested, well-muscled, confident, possessing a cruel, crow-like glint in the recess of his small, beady eyes. Ayxin recognised the bearing—the man was an opportunistic hunter.

"I was resting until you disturbed me," Ayxin stated the facts. "Go away."

"You don't have to sleep here." The young man grinned with an opaque expression of dangerous arousal. "I'll give you a place to stay, a warm bed and food. You'll never be cold or hungry again."

It must be because of the restrained virility of the human reproductive systems, Ayxin thought as she moved one pale leg after another from the stone bench, brushing the dust from her dress. Self-preservation, procreation, and currency seemed to be the modus operandi driving these humans, a triplicate of natural inclinations that Ayxin, as a Dragon-kin, empathised with perfectly.

Still, the desperate display was pitiful. This particular human's appetite was far more substantial than his ability and worth as an existence. A snake with an appetite for Dragons.

Then, to her surprise, the man reached out and touched her in an overly friendly manner. Not only that, he took her by the arm.

She stared at the fleshy appendage attaching to her limb, frowning unpleasantly. With a word, she could strip the flesh from the man's bones or command his minions to tear him to pieces with their teeth. But Ayxin would give the man a chance to redeem himself. She wasn't bloodthirsty like Ruxin or Golos; she was a pacifist.

"Do you know where the Ash Bringer is?" she demanded of the young man, throwing him a lifeline even as he stared at her chest.

The question seemed to catch the human youths off guard. They laughed at her before the young man answered. "I know where the man will be." The young man seemed puzzled by her fearless naivety and perplexing response. "He'll be at Liu's wedding this Sunday. It'll be the biggest event this year. His brother is marrying the only daughter of the clan. We're family friends. Why? Are you a fan?"

"I am not a fan." Ayxin pondered what her next course of action should be. "I am a human, like you. You are not an astute observer."

"Er…" The young man seemed less confident in his interest now.

"I am hungry." Ayxin carefully removed the young man's hand cautiously to avoid breaking something off by accident. She still needed him if what he said was true. "Bring me some food."

Ayxin announced her desire, and her observers felt a sudden urge to bring her sustenance. It was as though her voice filled every nook and cranny of their brain.

"Of course!"

"What would you like?"

"We can get take out."

"No, we’ll go to Papa Lau's."

"To the Hyatt. Full banquet!"

However, the young man who had touched her seemed unaffected by her Suggestion. A small, barely visible halo faded from his head, and then her assailant stepped back, his face ashen. "You're an M-Mind Mage," he uttered, tongue-tied and stuttering. "Everyone! G—"

“Munthrek! Tyrtrol ve!”

Something around the young man's neck shattered, barely audible and invisible underneath his shirt. The young man fell to his knees and performed a kowtow. "I, Chen Pao, am at your command, Mistress."

His friends ceased their banter, stared at their leader and broke into hilarious laughter. Their voices were silenced when the young man kissed Ayxin's feet without an ounce of unwillingness.

"I desire nourishment," Ayxin commanded her newly-dominated peon.

"Right this way." Pao stood, bowed, and then opened a path for Ayxin. He turned to the rest of his companions. "The rest of you, follow the Mistress. We are going to Louwailou. Jo, Message ahead and tell them I need a private chamber overlooking the water. Full banquet, spare no expense."

The crew looked at each other.

"Wiilirk!" Ayxin injected Pao's followers with a jolt of motivation.

She was feeling peckish.

"Let's go!"

"I know the manager there."

"Full Banquet."

"Beggar Chicken."

"I'll go ahead and prepare!"

"Ah-Xi, bring the car. I am taking the Mistress down to Louwailou," Pao informed his house servant through a Message Device. "Bring me the limousine in my dad's garage."

Her sycophants sat in respectful silence as Ayxin worked through a small mountain of dishes.

West Lake Fish in Sweet and Sour Sauce

Shallot Stuffed Pancake

West Lake Water Shield Soup

Dongpo Pork

Deep-fried Bean Curd Rolls Stuffed with Minced Tenderloin

Beggar Chicken

Victory Cake

Three “Savoury” Soup

A pound of fried rice with freshly peeled river prawns in a white seafood sauce.

A dish, Shelled Shrimp with Dragon Well Tea, caught her interest. Pao carefully explained that the Longjing tea came from the village of Longjing and was a Gong-Cha, or the tea drunk by the Kangxi Emperor during the Qing Dynasty, the last and final dynasty of China's tumultuous change through the twentieth century.

"I may have met him. Kangxi was the snot-nosed brat who killed off his generals when he was twelve, right?" Ayxin dropped a casual truth bomb as she masticated the prawns, shell and all, savouring the herbal taste of rich, elemental water.

Her followers appeared unsure how to respond to such an audaciously made-up statement.

"Bring me that wine."

Pao passed over a thirty-year-old Maotai bottle worth many currencies. Ayxin slugged down the delicious, crystal-clear liquid. "Find me lodgings with clean air and water, somewhere discreet and without people. I wish to rest until the wedding."

"The wedding, Mistress?"

"You will be escorting me into the wedding."

"Yes, Mistress."

Ayxin had kept the man's mind intact. Within, a small part of Pao would have screamed and screamed, but the larger portion of his psyche was wholly besotted with her, whose every word was law and whose smallest whim was a mandate. His friends, likewise, had quickly transformed into her most ardent worshippers.

Whenever he laid eyes upon her, every cell in his body cried out to worship her presence—to fall before an existence infinitely more significant than his mortal self.

In watching her sycophants, Ayxin wondered if this was what her mother's scholar-bureaucrats of old must have felt when gazing upon their emperor.

Ayxin examined herself in the hotel room's mirror.

She grudgingly agreed that Gwen's figure was made for wearing these fabulous artisanal creations. Though Ryxi could command the silkworms to spin seamless tunics and shimmering shawls, the aesthetics of the White Serpent had been firmly entrenched in the sixteenth century.

The problem was that Ayxin had no sense of style, and her followers could not resist the compulsion of her dominion long enough to tell her the truth. Even though her sycophants brought up dress after dress, she rejected them all, finding that none had the charm of the simple cotton shirt which Jun had given her during their heated exchange.

In the end, Ayxin settled on a dark green skirt and the Hello Kitty t-shirt, imagining how surprised her Ash Bringer would be when she showed up at the wedding.

By the same measure, she couldn't attend in the guise of Jun's niece. Pao had said that the girl would be there and was, in fact, the objective of many of the young men attending. The Dragon Mage thus allowed her original appearance to overlay that of the human niece, giving herself deeply set eyes, a sharper jawline, a more pronounced noble nose, and a head full of flaxen, platinum hair. For shoes, the pair Gwen had given her had been ruined by excessive use, so she had Pao find her a replacement in albino snake leather from a place called Italy as a homage to her useless brother.

"Pao, am I beautiful?" Ayxin knew the answer but felt compelled to request an affirmation.

Pao was wearing a tuxedo-style mandarine jacket. The young man looked good, Ayxin had to admit, even if his faculties had long since been ground down by material excess.

"Oh Mistress, I am drunk on your distant looks and frequent smiles, sweet and real. I dream of your delicacy of complexion and symmetry of form in silken dresses embroidered with golden peacocks, riding on a silvery Kirin, dazzling in the sunshine of springs and autumns…"

Even Ayxin blushed a little at the young man's addled obsession. She recognised the poem, stolen from the Analects of Du-Fu, the poet-sage of the Tang Dynasty. Ayxin's father had kept a complete collection of Du's fifteen hundred poems, often joking that no second copy existed outside his treasury.

"Enough." She had to stop the young man. Dufu hadn’t just been a sage of poetry. He’d also been the patron saint of whorehouses during the Tang Dynasty, overshadowing the bureaucratic and magical genius of the great sage.

Ayxin patted the young man's head, not unlike one's affection for a large dog. Pao wept with joy.

"When do you think we should attend?" she enquired of her servant.

"Any time you please, Mistress. Though I would suggest soon. We must sign in our wedding gifts and be seated. My father has reminded me that I will meet with the groom's daughter and several other potential suitors. I have already rebuked him, Mistress. You are the sole object of my devotion."

"No, Pao, go meet Gwen. I shall be occupied once we are at the wedding itself. Pay no mind to me."

"Yes, Mistress."

"You have taken good care of me in the last few days, Pao. I am not unkind. Though you may not remember me, I will reward you nonetheless."

"Your presence is reward enough, Mistress."

"Nonsense. Here, this is yours."

In Pao's outstretched hand, she deposited a ceramic pot welded shut by Enchantment. Within its pocket dimension was a supply of yearling Fur Tea, plucked at first bloom by Air Elemental Sprites. The Yinglong bartered no more than a hundred jars of the life-extending tea leaves, capable of bringing vitality to the elderly, dispelling disease and injury in the young, and temporarily infusing the drinker with motes of Draconic vitality.

Even as Pao wept freely over his impending freedom, Ayxin turned to the mirror to examine her striking features. She had never known that with a little touch of make-up, a change of colour to her eyes and a subtle shift in her bone structure, she could be so breathlessly beautiful, even in her own eyes.

"All right, Pao, ready the car," Ayxin informed her companion. "The wedding awaits!"

Chapter thirty-two

How Much do I Love Thee?

“That's the dress she ordered?" Qīn spread the cream-coloured horror across the dining table before regarding it critically. "She'll look like a pink pancake wrapped around a fried dough stick."

"Yes, Mistress." Her servant confirmed her scepticism. "Miss Gwen has said that the bridesmaid should never overshadow the bride. Her intentions are for you to take centre stage."

Qīn felt perplexed. The elderly NoM had been in her service since she was a child. Rarely had he spoken out of turn, especially in defence of someone other than herself.

"I see." Qīn clicked her tongue thoughtfully. "It's hideous."

Bei lowered his head.

"And afterwards, you helped her make her other purchases? The ones for her friends in Shanghai?"

Bei nodded.

Qīn chewed her lips thoughtfully, looking right through her manservant. "Has the contingency dress arrived?"

"It has, Mistress." The man brought a package out of his storage ring.

Qīn spread the dress before her, examining it critically. "What do you think of the cut, the design?"

"Mistress?"

"Speak candidly."

"The dress is… immodest, Mistress."

"It's what they call fashion, Bei."

Her usually softness grew suddenly cold. Murder my koi? Beguile my manservant? THE BRAT! Her precious, priceless koi that she'd taken care of since she’d been a little girl. Murdering her auspicious creatures right before her wedding, what had the girl been thinking? Did she disapprove of her union with Hai that vehemently?

“You are dismissed, Bei.”

Qīn watched the man disappear. Hai was hers alone. Not the Songs’, and certainly not his daughter's.

Gwen had spent the last few days exploring Hangzhou at her leisure, putting the wedding behind her.

On Wednesday morning, she spent three hours watching a man materialise a life-like scene of the Qiantang River with nought but three paintbrushes and a four-colour palette of dark ink. Watching the artist at work, she was soothed by the sound of whispering willows, sinking into the softness of the fine turf covering the riverbank.

Her luncheons proved equally enterprising and adventurous. Unlike the heavily-salted and sugared cuisine typical of the tier I city, Su-Hang dishes were more subtle, based on the plentiful resources provided by the city's lakes and estuaries. In particular, she fell in love with a textured gloop made from West Lake lotus root, a richly sweet gravy possessing a fortifying vitality.

Given the freedom to explore the city proper, Gwen grew partial to jogging along the banks of the West Lake and the river. The exhaustive exercise allowed her to stretch out her limbs, while the runner's high made her feel less anxious about the wedding ahead.

Her favourite route was the descent of the blue hour when the crystalline water became awash with mauve and sometimes orange light as the sinking sun diffused its splendour over a dusky horizon.

It was a short but tranquil lull in her otherwise turbulent life. The calm before the storm.

On Thursday, Gwen began her morning run from the Santai Yunshui monument, built to commemorate a noble scholar-bureaucrat of the Song Dynasty, detoured via the Leifeng Pagoda, then joined the walking trail encircling the West Lake Municipal Reserve.

The whole route was almost twenty kilometres of blissful greenery.

The more she ran, the better she felt. Her Almudj's Essence sang out as she moved through the temperate Jiangnan waterscape, comfortably falling into the rhythmic breathing dictated by Ayxin's scales. The more she ran, the more mastery she felt over the willful power bound within her mortal body.

As milestones fell by the wayside, she felt the mental grime gripping her consciousness flaking piece by piece, mote by mote, until only the feeling of fleeting distance remained.

Occasionally, a passerby or a suspicious-looking fellow would call out to her, but she blasted past them without a pause. On one occasion, a Mage joined her, presumably a Transmuter, and the two ran side by side until the man gave up chasing her skort.

As the day wore on, Gwen ventured further and further into the reserve, visiting temples and sightseeing from tall pagodas, bathing in the heady scent of sandalwood incense. She even caught the tail-end of a funeral procession, allowing her to watch demurely as the white-clad family filed from the grand pavilion in rows of twos, as a monk attired in saffron and gold swished a willow branch back and forth, sanctifying the path ahead.

Feeling moved by the display of human frailty, she entered the grand hall of the Lingyin Temple and lit three pieces of incense for her grandmother and her uncle, wishing them good luck and less interesting times ahead.

Friday

Gwen noticed several pedestrians giving her strange looks as she jogged back toward the manor. There was a particular quirk about the Chinese which had always grated on her nerves—they liked to point. In Australia, finger-wagging at someone was very rude.

In Shanghai, people had pointed, but understandably, as Ariel had been riding Caliban rodeo-style.

Here, they could only be pointing at her because she was tall and attractive. If there was any saving grace, it was that the Chinese hadn't acquired the dog whistling habit enjoyed by Mages and NoMs alike in her old working-class suburb of Forrestville.

Still, Gwen felt offended enough to change her route. Along the way, she discovered a quaint hole-in-the-wall place selling individual Chongqing hot-pot portions and readied her body for a gut-churning experience as delicious as it was torturous.

Afterwards, she called Richard again, thinking that the crew was likely taking time out for some R and R. She was again received with merriment and joy, becoming privy to enticing accounts of Lulan's exploits and her soaring reputation as the Nantong Ripper.

Fuck. Gwen bit her lower lip. What a cool moniker!

On Saturday, the Lius held a rehearsal.

One boon of the tedious rehearsal was that she met Jun's partner for the wedding, a mousy woman from a neighbouring house. Her name was Jingweng Yi. She appeared thoroughly intimidated by Gwen's impassivity, spending the entire time hiding behind Qīn. Their other bridesmaid was Qīn's younger cousin, a girl with a hyper-feminine, doll-like mien, who seemed to take offence at her indifferent demeanour.

The reception wasn't at a restaurant or hotel like the Hyatt Regency or the Hangzhou Four Seasons. Instead, it was held at the Liu estate. The practice, called the flowing water banquet, allowed anyone who wanted to wish the couple well to join the outer banquet, while the inner circle held their private function in the interior courtyard.

The sheer volume of guests frightened her, but there was no rescinding her final act of kindness for her father. She convinced herself that no matter how tedious the wedding, it would pass like a bad meal of hot pot eaten too quickly and with too much pepper oil.

Gwen smiled for four hours without rest. Afterwards, she fled from the manor, avoided the riverbank and proceeded upward until she reached Zuanyuan-Fan, north of Chi-San Hill, a historic garden abandoned by the Qing invaders, then restored by the CCP as a monument to the Battle Mages who’d given their lives defending the Northern Front.

After a long walk, she felt an unexpected quickening of her Lightning mana as her Almudj's Essence circulated, now with far greater mastery than when she'd first returned from the Yinglong's mountain.

Out of curiosity, she double-checked Ariel. The Marten was still fast asleep, cocooned by Essence as a flow of Lightning channelled from her Conjuration Sigil nourished its growth. When she mentally nudged it, Ariel made an "Eeee!", informing her that it would soon be ready for duty.

In less than twelve hours, the wedding would begin. Gwen would stand like a marionette and be pushed to and fro by strangers directing her to sit, stand, hold the teacups, pour for her father and mother, and smile at guests.

Then, she would be back to Fudan. Back to academia. Back to honing her six tiers of Elemental Lightning. And finding a way to introduce the horror-stag Caliban to polite society.

Sunday, zero six hundred hours.

W-Day. A day that might very well live in infamy.

Gwen hadn't slept and had to compensate for her lack of REM with a fifteen-minute meditation. Almudj's bounty wouldn't keep her entirely alert, but she wouldn't crumple while serving tea.

She dressed in slacks, then ventured toward the dresser to prepare her face.

With her flawless dermis, she didn’t need to apply the copious layers of concealer she’d had to use in the old world. She instead began with a thin layer of spot-cover, highlighted with dashes of easy-glam, dabbed in some eye-shadow paste, then used a number two to draw thick, voluminous wingtips. Some contouring followed, highlighting her forehead, cheekbones, and chin. A wet-look lipstick in peach, sharpened with a pencil, completed the look.

The result was agreeable to Gwen—fresh but dazzling, subtle but coy. As for hair, she opted for a low do.

At seven-sharp, she made her way across the south wing, through the central courtyard with its sprouting spectacle of dining tables.

A familiar-looking triangular platform caught her attention. "Are those Force Barriers?" Gwen stopped a servant.

"Yes, miss. There will be Spellcraft demonstrations after the reception."

Not a conspiracy device then. Gwen rolled her eyes at her paranoia. Duelling was the most popular activity amongst junior Mages, as demonstrated by the fact that the largest and most popular association at her uni was the Fudan Competitive Duelling Club. When a large coalition of houses, clans and notable folks had a gathering, they bragged about themselves by showing off their children.

The servant left before she could apologise for stopping her.

The groomsmen's party was set up elsewhere, at another family estate. The idea, Gwen had gathered from the rehearsal, was that the groom would arrive to welcome the bride, persuading Gwen, Jingwen and Fei to let them through. The weird part was that Hai was marrying into the bride's family, which meant the palanquin would return to the main house from whence it came.

Gwen was tempted to defend the door to her death. "Over my dead body!" she would declare. What would her father do then? But then she would have to fight her uncle.

She was still musing when Fei, the China-doll cousin, approached with her dress. "Gwen, you seriously going to wear this thing?"

Of course. Gwen grinned at the cousin. She had picked a burrito dress that made her look like a soggy Mexican takeaway luncheon on purpose. God knows what Qīn would do if she were to overshadow the bride in any form.

Then she pulled up something light and flimsy. Her immediate reaction was, What happened to the other eighty percent of the fabric?

"Aunty Qīn?" Gwen blinked innocently at the bride.

"Wear that one, Gwen." Qīn made a guilty face. "Your original one was lost."

"Lost?"

"Bei slipped and it fell into the pond."

"Really?" Gwen felt a spark of annoyance and tried to keep it from her face. If Qīn couldn't be bothered putting effort into a lie, why bother lying? Was she testing her?

"Yes, Bei was devastated."

Gwen's scalp crawled with phantasmal premonition. The dress wasn't excessive by Australian standards. She could easily wear it to the races, where the ladies would have nothing but praise for her excellent taste.

Yet she shivered. There wasn't enough material to cover most of her.

"Gwen, we have no time. Put on the dress." Qīn's Healer's presence pleaded with her.

The emotional blackmail was glaringly obvious. For a brief moment, Gwen fantasised about throwing the dress in the pond. But she thought of Babulya, of Jun, of her father's stupid smitten face.

And the fact that it was this woman's wedding day. A woman who had waited twenty years to marry the man of her dreams. She had to give Qīn a chance as a fellow single.

She put on the dress. Or, as it were, she slipped into half a dress. If she was going as a wrapped burrito before, she was now wearing only the lettuce. Qīn had picked out a knit flare dress with a backless design, a full circle skirt and a weighted hem, all done in pinkish pastel silk. The hem was at least three inches above her knees, dangerously exposing her thighs, while her entire back was nuddy thanks to superficial ribbon ties tethered to make a cute little “H”.

Just as she was about to complain that the dress was too loose and she could have a wardrobe malfunction, the bloody fabric tightened.

A fucking magical dress. Her evil stepmother had spared no expense.

On one hand, the dress was both elegant and youthful. It put Gwen's best attributes on display. On the other hand, why would Qīn go the extra mile to draw attention away from herself?

"You look like a real treat, dear." Qīn's eyes flashed lovingly. "Here, put these on. They're a gift from me."

"Hermès?" Gwen stared at the golden buckle embossed with a horse-drawn duc's carriage. "For me?"

"Yes, try them on," Qīn said in a friendly voice. "The shoes are self-cleaning, self-sizing, and resistant to almost all forms of wear and tear. It will also attune you to your element once you complete the ritual. The instructions are in the box." She passed over an orange box.

The surreal moment caught Gwen off-guard. Qīn had scored a critical hit on the weakest part of her psyche. Even in her old world, the most she'd ever spent on shoes was outlet-priced Jimmy Choo or Burberry's. A pair of ankle-strap Hermès sandals were over two thousand dollars. In-season varieties were often well over four thousand! For that price, she could be buying work-related oxfords from Louis Vuitton.

It wasn't that she couldn't afford Hermès. It was the unbearable thought of scuffing a two-thousand-dollar pair of shoes, especially ones she would only wear to parties or races once in a blue moon. She had promised herself that perhaps, in another decade, when she could comfortably retire, she would casually purchase a pair a year, the newest of the season, and cycle through them.

What would something like this cost in the Mage world? As a magic item crafted by one of the world's most esteemed artisanal accessory workshops, what price did it command? In Australia, they had designer goods, but the products were rarely enchanted. It was like buying from the budget section of a designer store versus purchasing from the top-shelf, in-season range.

"Cat got your tongue?" Qīn broke into scandalous laughter, studying the stunned expression on her face.

"Thank you, Aunty Qīn." Gwen suddenly felt incredibly depraved. One could not look a gift of Hermès in the mouth! She put her new shoes on and walked around in them. The strap was calf-skin soft, and the shoes were weightlessly attached to her feet. Despite the high arch, she felt no discomfort; the heeled sandals were perfect.

"This is incredible," Gwen blurted out, still in disbelief that she had a pair of Hermès casually gifted to her.

"We all have a pair," Qīn informed her. "Daddy got them for me from the Paris Tower. He has acquaintances there."

As was tradition, the other girls showed off their shoes, which absolved some of Gwen's guilt.

Fei wore a version of her dress with ample fabric at the back, though she had a plunging neckline that showed off nothing in particular. Jingwen, meanwhile, was wrapped from shoulder to knee. When the three stood together, it looked like they had a whole, three-quarters, and half a dress.

"Mao, your legs are so long." Fei's gaze could not be moved. Qīn's cousin was about five-foot-four, an average height for a local girl. The diminutive Jingwen was only five-foot-one and looked like a New Zealand Halfling standing next to Gwen.

"It's the shoes." Gwen awkwardly made herself smaller. The shoes added another four inches to her height, pushing her just over six-foot-four.

"Gwen's standing on the far end, so it won't matter," Qīn informed the other bridesmaids. "Come on. The men should almost be here."

"They won't get past us," Fei announced readily.

"I'll do my best," Jingwen muttered.

"I'll kick my dad's ass," Gwen declared.

The other bridesmaids fell about with laughter.

"Gwen." Qīn took Gwen's hand, her eyes forming two smiling half-moons. "I am counting on you."

Gwen nodded. For the shoes’ sake, she better not fuck this up.

The women's collective attire was finalised with jewellery. The bridesmaids wore crystal jewellery in sterling silver, while Qīn wore gold and diamonds.

"No bangles and necklaces for you?" Gwen asked quizzically. Qīn's first costume was a big red number that covered her from neck to ankle. Its flared sleeves begged for jewellery. A massive headdress rested on a coffee table beside them.

"You'll see after the tea ceremony," the other girls chimed in, giggling with anticipation.

Gwen opted to use the cheap, non-enchanted jewellery she had kept since Singapore—a crystal necklace and a water-crystal bracelet. On her hands were her rings, and on her ears, she wore her two Ioun Stones—the Clarity of Thought and her Translation Stone—as earrings.

A trumpet blast outside the main house suggested that the men had arrived.

"How long?" Fei turned to her cousin.

"At least an hour."

"Ha-ha, no problems."

Thus buoyed on her Hermè's high, Gwen turned away, insensible to the curling of Qīn's crimson, sanguine lips.

BEEEEEEARRRRNNNNN!

The blaring cacophony was emitted by a suona, a kind of miniature trumpet that made a loud, ear-tingling whining. Gwen suspected the player must have been an Illusionist, for the bloody thing could be heard for miles.

Together with the trumpet, a giant gong joined in the festival of noise, followed by the thunder blast of firecrackers created by a second and third Illusionist, filling the path with red petals for good fortune as the procession passed.

As the party descended to the front gate, now once again shut for the occasion, Gwen looked through the iron-wrought windows and spied her father, Uncle Jun, a young man she'd never seen before, and a fourth, someone she recalled seeing at the Liu banquet, a man in his thirties.

The groomsmen approached the gate and then knocked on the brass rings.

"I am here for the bride!" Hai declared. "Open says me!"

"Why should we open the gate?" Fei retorted from behind the wooden threshold.

"For your cousin's happiness," Hai shot back.

"She'll be happy, sure, but what's in it for me?"

"I don't suppose you're willing to take some candy?"

"What am I, a child? I would not open the door unless you pass three tests to prove yourself worthy of Qīn's hand in marriage."

"I will accept any trial," Hai declared expansively, oozing charisma. The crowd gathered outside began to clap, adding to the festive atmosphere.

"There are three of us, and you must defeat all three bridesmaids."

The doors swung open, and the groom's party filed into the outer courtyard, accompanied by almost a hundred spectators.

Each of the trials had been pre-planned by the girls. Jingwen was unexpectedly in charge of the Martial Trial, Fei was in charge of the Wisdom Trial, while Gwen was in charge of the Trial of Love. Thankfully, the ominously titled festivity was just a poetry recital selected for maximum cringe as the husband-to-be professed his love for Qīn, with Gwen acting as the judge.

The Martial Trial involved knocking Qīn's protectors into the water. With Hai and Jun, it was evident that the female guardians would have no chance. Nonetheless, the maiden guards put up a good show of force, eliciting cheers as they deflected spell after spell, buoyed by Water Walking. Jingwen surprised Gwen with her skill and Affinity as a Water Abjurer, holding out against the Song brothers and the Liu cousin until the very end, when Hai destroyed the platform she was using, forcing her out of the watery arena.

When the girls finally relented, they were greeted with thick red envelopes filled with currency cards to reward their labour.

Watching the exhibition, Gwen wondered if she should have volunteered and if her father could break through her Non-Newtonian Shield before she was OOM. If Hai ran out of mana, would the wedding be off?

The trial of wisdom was essentially a slapstick Q and A, with the bride asking questions Hai had to answer, selecting from a list of answers. Hai thankfully got most of them right, inciting jeers and laughter every time he struggled. It was just as well that the Liu cousin was a part of his entourage, for Gwen could discern from the girl's vantage point that Hai knew far less about Qīn than she thought he did.

Finally, it was time for the trial presided over by Gwen, and she presented herself to her father with a big smile and a sheet for him to read out loud.

With her entrance, however, a hush fell over the spectators. A few of the elderly covered the eyes of their children. Jun's eyes glazed over while Hai looked like a frog was caught in his throat.

It was the dress. Was it too scandalous? Gwen felt a chill. She couldn't wiggle the hem down anyhow. The bloody dress was magical and could resize itself.

She scanned the crowd. It wasn't the length of the skirt. There were plenty of female guests wearing minidresses and cocktail skirts. Some of their cheongsams had leg splits that were far more revealing than her A-line ruffles.

Was it the backless part? Did the Chinese not wear backless dresses? But it was too late to repeal her fashion faux pas. She was committed, and the sensibilities of attire would have to wait.

"Here you go, Dad. I could only write in English, but Qīn translated it for you. She liked it very much when I showed it to her."

"Gwen." Hai averted his eyes as he took the sheet from her hands. "You are going to attract a lot of attention. Are you sure that's wise?"

"I didn't pick the dress." Gwen stood half a head taller than her father in her new heels. "Aunty Qīn gave it to me."

"She did, did she?" Hai looked guilty.

Gwen regarded her father. Was my old man in on this? There was palpable remorse in his body language. It was the look of a father who suddenly realised his little girl was a woman and that wolves were all around them.

"Uncle Jun." Gwen flashed her pearly whites at her uncle. She struck a pose. "What do you think?"

"Gwen, you're breathtaking, if a little disreputable, ha-ha."

"You're looking like a treat yourself, Uncle." Indeed, the Song brothers were good-looking blokes whose august appearance was improved by their suits. Hai had on a tapered Mandarine jacket in crimson silk, a riotously eye-catching colour that suited him well, while Jun was in a western three-piece with a red and gold embroiled vest, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Amusedly, the two standing together reminded Gwen of the Hemsworth brothers, Australia's great export to Hollywood.

Perhaps a little comically, the third groom and the Liu cousin resembled pedestrians when standing beside the two Songs, invisible but for the corsage. She could see from the glowing eyes of the women in the audience that her uncles were stealing hearts and winning minds.

"Come on, Dad, start reading. Loud and clear."

"All right, all right." Hai cleared his throat.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of spring and winter.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and Dancing Light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

I love thee purely, as crystal mana clear.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my humanity, with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

Growing with lost years. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if heavens choose,

I shall but love thee better—after death."

With the final words delivered, Hai didn't seem so confident. "Hell of a speech," he muttered, staring at Gwen nervously. Jun likewise appeared contemplative.

"'Til death do you and Aunty Qīn part, Dad." Gwen met her father's dark eyes with her hazel orbs. "There's no backing out of this one. Babulya, Grandfather, the whole Song family needs you to commit."

Hai nodded solemnly, visibly stunned by the promise of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's timeless sonnet. Gwen wondered if it was the beauty of the sonnet that had brought Hai to heel or the fact that he had made the promise in front of such an esteemed gathering.

The crowd was already roaring with approval for Hai's boundless devotion.

"You pass!" Gwen declared, embracing her father. Hai’s hands hovered, probably thanks to her tasteless, backless dress. He settled on patting her shoulders instead.

Gwen's attention then shifted to Jun, who nodded appreciatively at her gesture of support for the wedding and the unfortunate path ahead for the family. The better Hai could act as husband and consort to the Liu heir, the more influence he could exert over Qīn. If so, Secretary Liu's sway on the Songs could be mitigated somewhat. Ideally, their house could remain neutral even as they were forced to perform inconsequential favours.

With the three trials over and the maids’ tasks completed, it was time to welcome the bride.

Penetrating the inner courtyard, the groomsmen dispensed copious amounts of red packets, each with arbitrary amounts of currency cards. When enough of the women in the yard had been “bribed”, Qīn was led out by her maids amidst thunderous applause, clothed in red and gold—a humanoid tapestry of embroiled silk.

The palanquin made its round from the east wing before the party eventually entered the west wing, where the elders had been waiting.

Holding the train of Qīn's dress, Gwen followed after the vermillion-garbed bride with her head down. Qīn's other two bridesmaids cleared the path as Qīn's headdress, consisting of a heavy red cloth, prevented her from seeing beyond her feet. Hai walked beside his bride, unable to touch her before the most important ceremony of the day.

As the bride and groom entered the west wing, Gwen spotted her grandparents seated at the head of the ceremonial table, with Qīn's father, Sumei Liu, standing beside them.

First came the nuptial rite, where the couple faced each other, followed by Hai removing the veil and headdress, revealing the ravishingly beautiful bride. Hai and Qīn received a golden goblet tethered with red string, filled with honeyed plum wine. An ovation resounded across the inner courtyard as they drank from each other's cups, followed by a crash of trumpets and gongs.

Looking away, Gwen spotted the Illusionist recording the whole thing, standing outside the crowd, manipulating incantations with his fingers like a puppeteer. The convenience of magic impressed Gwen to no end. Wedding photographers in this world had it so much easier! There were no guests with iPhones trying to be amateur photogs and no danger of backing away for the perfect shot only to step on the flower girl, trip, then break their wrists trying to protect equipment and toddler.

In front of and below the elders, the bride and groom knelt on cushions placed under their knees by the bridesmaids while a servant brought a jug of tea with a dozen cups for Gwen to hold.

The almost-newlyweds knelt on both knees as tea was poured by bridesmaid number one and carefully passed to Hai and Qīn via bridesmaid number two.

Guo and Klavdiya were the first to receive the honours, being the eldest and the groom's parents.

"Do us proud, Hai." Guo patted Hai on the shoulders. "You have no idea how long I have waited for this day. I am truly happy for you."

"Thank you, Father." Hai bowed deeply.

"Welcome to the family, daughter." Klavdiya was glowing with Positive Energy as she spoke, filling the room with warmth. Qīn regarded her mother-in-law with tearful eyes, perhaps thinking of her deceased parent, then sobbed as she received the old woman's benediction.

"Here, this is for you." Gwen's babulya slipped a heavy gold bangle onto Qīn's wrist and gifted her with a pair of diamond and ruby earrings in mithril. Gwen could tell the earrings were enchanted but didn’t know enough about magic items to say what they were.

The next to receive the tea ceremony was Secretary Liu and his sister, serving as Qīn's mother. The tea was exchanged, wisdom was given, and more gold was given to Qīn.

Another set of Liu's relatives followed. And another. And finally, the eldest member of the Clan of Liu, an ancient Magus aged a hundred and twelve, gave her his benediction, followed by yet another heavy-gold bangle.

Gwen wasn't sure if the Lius were showing off, but Guo looked less than pleased when Qīn tried to rise and was almost taken off balance by the three or four kilograms of gold and mithril she now carried on her person.

By then, it was almost four pm. Between the waiting, the games, the ceremonies and the gifting, Gwen had been attending to Qīn for almost eight hours. She had eaten copious amounts of gut-filling fried dough for breakfast, but without Kimiko's nourishing weekly feeding of Caliban, her hunger grew increasingly more urgent. If she couldn't get something in her stomach soon, everything around her might look like food.

The reception, thankfully, was immediately upon them, after which Gwen was free to eat the night away. It was the western portion of the wedding, with an MC introducing the bridesmaids and their groomsmen. From the looks of it, she had been paired with the unassuming Liu cousin, a companion Gwen didn't mind, as the man was apparently in his thirties.

As expected, being the third bridesmaid, Gwen was the first to take to the stage. Purposefully strutting across the pavement, she walked arm in arm with the Liu cousin into the courtyard.

They were losing daylight, but that was precisely the magic of the banquet. Sparing no expense, Secretary Liu had purchased thousands of floating lanterns, embroidered individually with silhouettes of good fortune and pictographs for luck and happiness in every shade and colour. They floated above the wedding reception, swaying gently, forming the most spectacular outdoor wedding Gwen had ever seen, casting the entire inner courtyard in mystical, ambient light.

As they entered the banquet, the Liu cousin placed a hand against the small of her back. The man's hand was heavy, trembling, hot and sweaty. "Sorry." His unassuming voice was filled with tension.

"Is something wrong? Are you feeling all right?" Gwen leaned in closer.

The man was sweating profusely. "I am fine. Please, let's finish the walk. I am afraid your attire is a little too scandalous."

So that's why the man kept averting his eyes. Gwen didn't know whether to laugh or cry. At least the guy was a good sport—a man who knew better than to entertain improper thoughts for Qīn's daughter-in-law.

"It's all right, I understand," Gwen replied sweetly, giving credit where credit was due.

As the two made their rounds, Gwen felt a tingling on her neck, where the scale was buried at the base of her hair. She scanned the audience quizzically, unable to locate the source of the resonance.

What she received, however, was tumultuous acclaim from a group of young men all lined up like ducks waiting to be fed, applauding her as though she had just completed a runway. The exaggerated gesture made her break out with a broad and friendly smile.

On the way, she spotted her cousins seated in the junior section far from the bridal table. Gwen wanted to run over and embrace Petra, but she still had at least two more hours of bridesmaid duties to execute. After completing their circuit, her guilty companion abandoned her on the maids’ side of the bridal table.

The tension drained from her taut body when her buttocks touched the soft, padded chair. Despite their wonderful craftsmanship, her designer shoes were not meant for nine hours of walking and standing. With meticulous subtlety, she circulated her Almudj's Essence, feeling her mana channels bathed in the healing Essence's restorative embrace, relieving the knotted muscles in her feet. Beauty was pain, and as much as she loved those shoes, a day standing on tippy toes was torture.

The others were soon seated, as were the bride and groom. Plates of food, steaming famously, entered the banquet. A plate of Peking Roast Duck Crepe arrived. What? She blinked, snatching up the crepe and finishing it with two bites. Where is the rest of the duck? The other tables had a WHOLE DUCK!

She looked at her companions, who nibbled at their food, careful not to ruin their makeup. Gwen dabbed the hoisin sauce from her lips.

The next dish arrived—one small bowl of shark fin soup, barely two ladles full.

Why do the other tables get a whole Goddamn winter melon filled with soup? She was so hungry she could cry.

Uncle Jun was no help because she would have to leave her seat to beg him, not to mention she had no desire to eat his share of the food. By the same measure, she couldn't just leap from the platform and demand one of the guest tables hand over their duck, could she? They were barely touching it!

The next dish, and the next, and the next arrived.

One cut of Australian-Auroch in the mandarin sauce.

Two stuffed crystal prawns.

Half an East Sea Coral Lobster tail in ginger and shallot, with one mouthful of noodles.

Watching the others eat with meticulous slowness, Gwen wanted to reach over with her chopsticks and steal the meal from their bowls. The cuisine was delicious, which made it all the worse. A Void was opening inside of her.

"Ah." Jingwen, the quiet Abjurer, dropped her chopstick.

"I'll get it."

Both of them reached down.

When their heads came up, Gwen noticed Jingwen was sweating. Her face was flushed, and she was panting slightly.

"Are you all right?" Gwen poured the woman a glass of water.

"I am fine." The poor girl squirmed, likely suffering from dehydration from all the talking and walking she’d had to do. She looked as though she had heat stroke. "Hang in there!" Gwen said.

But the woman was looking at Jun with a glazed expression, an act which immediately soured Gwen's opinion of the whore.

Inexplicably, her Divination pinged. The scale at the back of her neck vibrated. Gwen scanned the banquet alarmingly, looking for a face she should recognise.

"It's time!" Qīn suddenly rose from her seat, her crimson cheongsam hugging her hips. "That's it for the main banquet. Let's get down there and start the greetings. Hai, tell the boys to get their kidneys ready. Jing, Fei and Gwen, bring the Mao-tai. One bottle each. We're starting the toasts!"

Jingwen slipped her arms into between Jun's elbow and his waist.

Ayxin's scale bristled. Gwen stood as dreadful premonition poured over her like an ice-bucket challenge.

"Gwen!" Qīn called out. "Come on, you're pouring!"

Chapter thirty-three

How to Fold a Paper Tiger

“Happy wife, happy life, Mr Song. Gānbēi!"

Gwen poured the wine distractedly, far more engrossed in seeking out the source of her dreadful premonition. Her surveillance, however, was limited to the table-by-table meet-and-greet where, as is tradition, people were trying to get Hai as drunk as humanly possible.

At each table, they had to toast the guests with thimble shots of baijiu sitting at a heart-stopping fifty-three percent purity. It was, therefore, the groomsmen's job to help the groom by acting as the Abjurer. Likewise, as the bride's companions, it fell to the bridesmaids to take one for the team to ensure the bride was sober enough to complete her nocturnal nuptials.

The bridal party greeted their immediate elders at the main table front and centre of the inner courtyard. Klavdiya touched Gwen's hand and thanked her for acting competently while her grandfather knitted his brows at her unnecessarily revealing attire. Secretary Liu, conversely, immediately complimented her on her beauty, raised a toast, and then congratulated her grandparents on possessing such a treasure.

All in all, there were ten tables in the inner courtyard, twenty in the outer yard, and another thirty outside the estate, under an external pavilion. The bridal party needn't visit the outer assembly—it was filled with mundane guests and servants, consisting principally of NoMs.

"Petra!" Gwen squealed when they reached her cousins. She had been hoping to converse with her Shanghai crew all day but had been too busy to tear herself away, even for a minute.

"Gwen, you looking sweet as!" Tao gave her a thumbs up. "Please wear the dress to my show. Bring some sugar."

"Are those Hermès?" Mina knew what was up and what was truly important.

"I am happy you're safe and sound." Petra nudged Mina. Gwen found it no surprise that the first words from the girl's lips after a week-long absence were about branded shoes. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks, everyone,” Gwen relaxed. “Please come and join me after it’s all over. We only have another thirty tables or so. Yes, Mina, they’re a gift from Qīn. But I’ll tell you what, these shoes are killing me! Tao, I'll consider it, but only you can convince Petra. Pats, how long did it take you guys to get to Hangzhou? Did Mina drive all of you?"

Mina did not answer Gwen but looked in a trance, likely still thinking about Gwen's shoes.

"Sorry, Gwen," Tao looked at his sister with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it," Gwen replied.

"S-sorry!" Mina stammered, appearing as though she had broken free of some charm. "I am feeling a bit unwell. Maybe it's too stuffy here."

The banquet was outdoors. "No worries, Mina, have some water," Gwen said. "The humidity here gets to everyone."

As the bridal party left the table, Gwen became hyper-conscious that the guests were staring at her shoes, which were unfortunately attached to very exposed legs. If she had been wearing her burrito dress and not Qīn's scandalous number, immodest exposure would not have been a problem. Alas, her meagre fabric just managed to cover her frontal torso, hips and upper thighs.

The rest of the inner circle were Liu's friends and family, notable local houses, and a few prominent Clans between the Hangzhou Frontier, Suzhou, Shaoxing and Anhui. The guests ranged from polite and friendly to displaying undisguised concupiscence. One middle-aged bloke even sniffed her arm as she poured.

After another half-dozen tables, Gwen camouflaged herself behind the other two bridesmaids. It was just as well that their dresses were identical shades of pastel pink.

"I would like to toast Miss Song!" a voice called out from the table.

Gwen looked up and saw a young man with a square face and bushy brows lifting a shot of Maotai toward her.

The wedding party turned to Gwen with looks of great expectation.

Jun met her eyes but said nothing. Her uncle knew enough to leave the matter to her discretion.

Gwen lifted a shot glass, then sculled the liquor in one gulp. The rice wine entered her throat like a fire, burning her tongue with its delicious scent. The enormously vital baijiu, distilled from rare Wildland sorghum harvested from the Orange Zone south of Chongqing, meshed well with her Draconic Essence.

Gwen found, to her surprise, that her hunger had abated.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then the table and its neighbours burst into applause.

"HAO!"

"Cao! That girl can drink!"

"NICE!"

"The Songs are northerners, right? Those northerners can drink!"

"She is half Russian. Well, her grandmother is from Harbin."

"You know what they say. The Ruskies prefer vodka over water."

Gwen licked her lips. She could do with another. Maotai was famous for its distilled life force. The purer and older the distillation, the more potent. She wondered if the rice wine, like the Fructum Vitae, had diminishing returns. She licked her lips again, savouring the scent, watching her audience squirm.

"Thank you," she replied sweetly. "Right back at you. Fill her up."

Jun’s gaze met her own, guessing at her intentions. Qīn and Hai regarded one another quizzically, but the exchange was beyond them now.

One of the uncles happily filled up Gwen's glass and the young man's. "To your health." Gwen took the shot without even blinking, savouring the taste.

"HAO!"

"Wonderful!"

The young man sipped his second drink so as to not choke and embarrass his family. The table cheered the young sorceress and jeered her competitor, filling the festive air with jovial mockery.

Thanks to Gwen, the toasting had taken on a less formal and far more familiar air, cries of “Good!” and whole-hearted “Gānbēi!” filled the air.

At the next table, Jingwen turned to Gwen. "Gwen," the diminutive woman was slurring a little. At one point, Jun had to hold his partner steady lest she tripped over her feet. "Can you still drink?"

Again, Gwen's spine tingled, and again she failed to locate the source. "Sure." She gave her a thumbs up. "Hit me up." It wasn’t every day that she got to drink decade-old Maotai as spring water, not to mention the distilled sorghum that appeared to nourish her hunger.

Another of the young men, a fellow whose eyes hadn't left her face since she’d arrived at the guest table, raised a toast to Gwen. "Gānbēi!"

Three shots and the young man was turning a whole new shade of human.

The next table came and went, with Gwen taking the shot for Qīn and the bridesmaids. Very quickly, she gained a group of followers who couldn't believe what they saw, following her group from table to table, cheering as she took another hit for the bride.

“Gānbēi! Gānbēi! Gānbēi!”

Her father was sweating even as Jun continued with a mirthful expression readable only on his curled lips. Uncle must be cracking up behind his stoic exterior. Gwen mused, flashing Jun a happy grin. He was the only one who knew that so long as she kept her Essence cycling, she couldn't become intoxicated.

To the raising brows of the whole banquet, it was her uncle Jun who couldn't hold his rice wine at the next table.

The bridal party was doing the last rounds of the inner courtyard when an ethereal beauty greeted them. She raised a glass, then toasted the Ash Bringer.

Gwen's uncle raised his glass, sculled the shot, noted as Gwen did, the Hello Kitty shirt—then spattered the poor woman with a conic blast of high-grade alcohol.

The spontaneous spittle shower drew every eye from across the courtyard.

Like Gwen, the guests sucked in a collective breath of air.

The young woman was so strikingly stunning that even Gwen's heart grew sore with sympathy at her bedraggled state.

The Ash Bringer coughed violently.

The young lady's appearance suggested she was in her late teens, about Gwen's age. Spit and Maotai dribbled past a set of bright blue eyes, a high-bridged nose and deeply set features, which marked her as a foreigner. The dead giveaway was her platinum-blonde hair, plastered across her face in sticky strands of sun silk. One would have figured that the girl was older than she looked, but she uncharacteristically wore over her slim body a Hello Kitty t-shirt now covered with rice wine still dribbling from her chin.

The crowd regarded the new girl—then Gwen—then shifted their attention to Gwen's grandmother. Gwen could see from their varied expressions that each instance was adding more adventurous guesses as to their connections.

Gwen too, realised just how similar they looked. Their facial structure, long, lithe limbs, demeanour, and body language were similar.

That shirt. Gwen's mind clicked. I know that shirt.

The guests’ curiosity converged on Hai. Her father, she knew was for once, earnestly confused by the Dragon-kin’s familiar yet alien countenance.

Jun made a sound as though he was drowning. The wedding guests migrated their gaze toward the Ash Bringer, who had become slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

Her scale—or rather, Ayxin's Scale, tingled.

Fuck me dead! Gwen felt her cerebellum perform a double somersault before landing awkwardly with a sprained ankle.

AYXIN? Gwen screamed internally. What the hell is the Dragon Mage doing here? Could she even be here? Why isn't she imploding from the shielding resonance?

Was the PLA aware that a thermo-nuclear warhead had snuck itself into a city of four million people? Most importantly, should she tell anyone?

But she needn't make that call, Gwen realised. She was in the presence of a higher-ranking officer possessing far more intimate knowledge than her wild speculations. If anything, it was Jun's call to make, his Dragon to lay.

Ayxin's expression was one of complete devastation as well, though her distress seemed directed at her alcohol-ravished Hello Kitty shirt.

"I am sorry," Jun stammered, his face growing as red as a beet. Gwen figured her uncle was likely shitting himself as he spoke. The man had ruined the Dragon-kin's one-of-a-kind shirt, despoiled the remembrance of her affection and ravaged the romance of her surprise visit.

Ha! It serves you right! Gwen smirked even as she deliberated the possibility of the Dragon Mage erupting into an all-consuming fount of living Lightning.

Her uncle turned to Hai. There was no time to explain. Gwen could guess why. Suppose anyone should get the wrong idea about why a Dragon-kin had wandered into a shielded city without a self-decaying Resonance Sigil? In that case, Hangzhou could play host to the PLA Super Tower for the foreseeable future.

Ayxin opened her mouth to speak. "Jun, I want a b—"

"Brother, I need to go."

"You go for it, man." Hai offered his straight-shooter brother a bro-fist. Gwen knew he had misread the situation and was likely happy only because the girl hadn't pointed at him. "Do what you gotta."

Jun ignored Hai's fist bump, took Ayxin by the arm, and pushed the girl behind him. With a single, scandalous gesture, the Dragon-kin wrapped her arms around his waist and dashed the hopes of women in the courtyard, young and old.

Jun's constipated expression insinuated someone had stabbed his reputation in the kidneys with a broken chopstick.

Gwen winced.

"Gwen, stay out of trouble. I'll be back if I am able."

"Where are you going?"

"Far from the city, for now. You never know…"

"Gotcha." Gwen nodded. "Be careful. If need be, what should I tell Babulya?"

"Everything."

"I'll try."

Jun produced a Teleportation scroll. The two de-materialised with a flash of silvery Conjuration mana worth over seven hundred HDMs. The guests erupted into wild and audible speculation.

Gwen glanced back at the Songs’ table and saw that Guo had transformed into an impassive stone statue, not unlike one of those granite lions outside Liu's estate. Her grandmother must have received a Message from Jun, for Gwen could see that the old woman was cupping a hand against her ear.

Gwen's heart sank. Her precious Uncle Jun had been taken.

Beside Gwen's grandfather, Secretary Liu poured a cup of tea for Guo. The man's palpable schadenfreude was visible almost half-a-dozen tables away.

Already the Songs owed the Lius because their wayward son had knocked up his only daughter. And then their granddaughter had lost face by causing a scene with her belligerent brother, then showed up as a bridesmaid wearing an entirely un-maiden-like attire.

Now even Jun, the golden boy who could do no wrong, was slinking away after splattering a guest in the face, perhaps to get her a new change of clothes, but more likely dealing with a lover's dilemma. Jun's only grace was that the beauty had not burst into tears and made a scene. To think that the Ash Bringer, of all people, had been panicked enough to burn a tier VII Teleportation scroll. It made Liu wonder which family the lass could belong to, though the answer would have to wait until after the wedding.

Unexpectedly, events had progressed so well that Secretary Liu felt he had previously consulted with a state-sanctioned Diviner from Pudong. After tonight, the Songs won’t have enough face left to slap! As if guided by a divine hand, the pieces kept falling into place of their own accord.

Earlier, he had received conflicting reports that Gwen Song had been seen marauding through Hangzhou City, making trouble for the locals, going as far as hooking up with the son of Assistant Secretary Chen at the Ritz Carlton. When he’d questioned Qīn's servants, however, they’d reported that the girl had returned to the estate regularly, bathing and sleeping in the south wing.

The inconsistency was puzzling, but to Liu, the actuality hardly mattered. With Ash Bringer gone, a rare opportunity had presented itself.

And Liu was nothing but an opportunist.

A few tables over, Gwen was still trying to think of a way to put together a contingency plan or, at the very least, clear the guests should the Dragon Mage return with less-than-peaceful intentions in mind. With her Spatial Magic, it was difficult to say if anyone in Hangzhou could hold her down, Jun included.

"Let's take a break." Qīn licked her lips. She couldn't drink because of her pregnancy, and all the Maotai was giving the girls a heady fatigue. "Hai, take me back, then get me some water."

"Of course, dear." Gwen caught the split-second glance that passed between them.

The bridal party moved as one. Yet, when Gwen followed, her stepmother stopped her. "Go see your friends, Gwen. Mingle with the crowd. Hai and I will be fine. We'll do some catching up on my side of the family. I think Jun should be back soon; we'll wait for him. What do you say?"

"Sure, I'd love that."

The woman put on a sympathetic smile to assuage the her growing paranoia, but Gwen had bolted, not wanting to engage. Gwen made for her babulya, feeling an urgent need to impart critical information for near-future contingencies. It was just as well that she could see that the oldies had hardly touched their bottle of Maotai.

Gwen had made it no more than three tables when she was surrounded. A dozen young men from the various families had been waiting almost two hours to address her vis-a-vis.

"Miss Gwen!"

"Gwen…"

"Song Xiaojie"

"Another toast!"

"Come have a drink with us."

The attention was flattering, but there was something in their eyes that reminded Gwen of Caesar's paranoia, that "Cassius over there has a lean and hungry look". She hoped they weren't expecting to stab her in the back, in a euphemistic manner of speaking, especially as she was quite exposed.

"Let me through." She forced a wan smile to her lips. "I'll be with you soon. We'll hang later, I promise."

To her dismay, the men closed ranks. Their boisterous voices overpowered her feeble protests.

Gwen's spine stiffened with displeasure. Are these guys fucking with me? Goats and monkeys! She bit her tongue, taking a moment to ponder the acceptable amount of minimal force necessary to dispel the Wall of Lust. Judging by the looks on their faces, this wasn't their first rodeo. From how her stepmother had left with the bridal party, the men's actions would appear premeditated.

"My Uncle, the ASH BRINGER, is going to be very upset if we come to any unfortunate misunderstandings." Gwen raised her voice an octave. "Let me remind you that he is an Internal Security operative."

Name-dropping Jun seemed to have made it through their system, penetrating the spirit and the hormones ruling their judgement. Seeing that her wayward suitors had become sufficiently cowed, she lifted her hand to part the crowd.

Gwen had made it about halfway through the group when her Divination tingled. She sighed. What was it with her uncanny gipsy’s luck with molesters? Can't I meet normal people for once?

Gwen swung her hand across her buttocks with extreme prejudice as though swatting at an annoying gadfly. The edge of her knuckles grazed a wandering pair of fingers going for a squeeze, a pinch, a nab or a grope targetting whatever her attire had exposed.

"Arrgh! Tama-de!" There was a yelp. A scream cut short. Then a burst of expletives.

And they said chivalry was dead. Gwen rolled her eyes.

One of the young men Gwen recalled having shared a drink with was nursing his right hand with a painful scowl. Two of the would-be groper's fingers were twisted in a strange direction.

SHIT. Gwen shook out her right arm. A little too much force.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Gwen turned to regard the source of the uproar. One of the young men charged her.

Are you shitting me? Her mind reeled. Goddamn alcohol! Crap like this is why bars are so dangerous.

Gwen sidestepped the crimson-faced buck with ease. She readied herself to push the man away, wondering if crying out for Petra, Tao, or God-forbid, her grandfather, would salvage the situation.

But she wasn't the young man's target. The bloke passed her by, wound up a right hook, then king-punched the molester in the face. Gwen suspected the young man must have been a Transmuter because his victim was sent flying in the literal sense. A clatter of teeth scattered over the pavement, joined by a striking arc of crimson.

"WOCAO! What are you doing, Pao?" someone screamed.

A wall of protests erupted.

"Is this guy trying to show off?"

"Back off, Chen. Who the fuck do you think you are? Your dad is only the Second Chair!"

"Buhaha! Playing the hero. You think she'll spread her legs for you?"

"So fake, not even trying!"

Gwen stared slack-jawed at the young man who stood in front of her, sharing the shocked expression of her astonished assailants. A white knight? A real-life, true-to-form white knight?

She was impressed. Not that she wanted to know the guy better, nor did she desire to butter the guy's toast, but she was impressed nonetheless. It was one thing to talk the talk, but this Pao guy walked the walk!

"I love her!" Pao declared his loyalty with such passion that Gwen's heart rate shot to a hundred. Pao then turned to the assembly of amazed assholes, then blew her away with yet another audacious announcement. "I'll die for her."

Gwen's heart sank. It was too much.

The rest of the guests appeared equally astonished.

"Are you two in cahoots?" One of the young men stated with a fiery face full of injury. "Why in Mao's name would you put up this charade if the two of you are already an item?"

"That's bullshit!"

"Do you know how much I gave to your father's wedding registry?"

"Chen Pao! Shut up!" The protest came from the floor.

The youngsters parted. Pao's victim had recovered from his tumble and was returning with a mouth full of blood and eyes full of retribution.

Gwen swore and tried to back away from the scuffle, but a wall of bodies kept in place by spectators and rubberneckers pushed her back into the ring. The scent of fear, excitement, sex, and alcohol all seemed to mingle and feed into each other until she was reminded of music festivals where youths had to be put down by security.

"Pao! You’re dead!" the groper had recovered after using a potion injector, attesting to the extent of his injury. His teeth, however, would require professional help.

But the man's outburst became halted by a second cry from beyond the ring of spectators. "Great leader's ghost! What in Mao's name do you rascals think you're doing?"

The crowd parted as the Red Sea.

Guo, Babulya, and Patriarch Liu descended upon the riotous kerfuffle. Gwen knew that it was proper that the bride and groom remained absent and out of sight, leaving the dirty work to their elders. The expected outcome was the expulsion of the troublemakers, though her inclusion among that number infinitely complicated an otherwise easy deliberation.

"Young lady," the patriarch began, "what is the meaning of this lover's spat?"

For a moment, Gwen thought she was hallucinating. The meaning of what?

A lover's spat? Hers? What the hell? he trained her eyes on the secretary, whose nose barely reached her chin. "I am afraid you are gravely mistaken, Magus Liu," she riposted critically. "I am an unwitting victim. These men have taken offence entirely of their own accord."

"From where we stand, all I can see are young bucks butting heads over a doe." Liu grinned, putting on a show of sagacity. "What do you think, Guo? Your granddaughter is a rare beauty. To think she possesses such beguiling powers at such a young age. What will you do when she enters society?"

Her babulya's face became torn between ripping the man apart with her bare hands and keeping the peace. Gwen was reminded of that old saying that even Buddha has a temper. Behind her grandparents, she could see Petra's face fuming with quivering rage, while beside the Russian girl, Mina kept a hand firmly on Tao's shoulders.

"As I very clearly stated, Magus Liu, I do not know these men."

"Am I to presume these young gents spontaneously decided to accost you?" Secretary Liu scoffed.

"That is correct, sir," Gwen replied chillingly, channelling her inner Guo. She raised her voice so that everyone could hear. "They appeared uncalled for and unsummoned from thin air to block my path. They have no respect for you or my father's matrimony. If you have any sense, you would expel them from the wedding."

The retort from a girl a quarter of his age seemed to catch Liu off guard. For a brief second, the secretary appeared entered by her commanding presence.

But then the man's face soured with annoyance. Liu's eyes swept over Gwen's livid face. His expression was frosty as he cynically regarded her “beau” and his toothless victim. "Pao, Hu, explain yourselves."

"I am in love with Miss Song." Pao's admission blew Gwen's mind to kingdom come. "I've spent the last few days and nights with her in the city, sharing in her company. I cannot allow animals like Hu the chance to place his dirty fingers on the girl I adore."

S-Spent the last few days and nights… PLURAL? FUCKING PLURAL?

Gwen felt dizzy.

"I dnn no such fing!" Hu retorted vehemently, his missing teeth slurring his protest. The man's unbridled anger was lending strength to his cunning. "The Song girl is a tease, and she's also insane. She attacked me when I offered her a greeting. Ben and Pei-Jai, and Suqee can all attest."

"That's right!"

"Unprovoked!"

"She broke his hand!"

"The girl's out of control."

"There are some girls you take to a hotel but not your home."

Secretary Liu turned to Gwen, spreading his hands as though he had received all the needed evidence.

With a critical eye, Liu admired her frustration. Watching the man's curling lip, Gwen felt a subconscious longing to Consume Liu's smug face right here and now and damn the consequences.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Song? What's your game? Why the garb, and if so, why turn away the young men you set out to attract?"

"That's not true—"

"Don't play games with me!" Liu snapped at her, making her flinch. "Do you believe me so easily swayed? This is my daughter's wedding!"

The last statement was intended to ricochet elsewhere. Both Gwen and the secretary turned to look at Guo and Klavidya. Her grandfather maintained his stoic-statue countenance while her babulya's face became as vivid as pippins.

Gwen's head buzzed. Every ounce of her depleting will was spent suppressing her raging Essence. She was sure that if she blew her gasket now, she could be on an examination table by next week, having Draconic Essence leeched into a bucket.

"As I was saying," Liu continued, clearly enjoying the shameful attention he was bringing to his in-laws. "Gwen, it is improper for a young lady to lie so readily. Young Master Chen knows you in an intimate capacity. By his own admission of guilt, you have shared his companionship for many days, and indeed, my servants can attest that you have been absent from my home from morning to evening."

The patriarch's accusation hammered her like a mallet. She could refute, but the age-old quandary of "he said, she said" put her at a distinct disadvantage.

From the wedding guests’ perspective, Gwen supposed it looked like she had become stunned by the patriarch's judicious revelation.

Gwen's grandmother moved to interject; Guo held her in place.

Secretary Liu continued. "I can see why the young Chen is so obsessed with you. With talent, beauty, intelligence, and a good family, you lack nothing. However, it would appear that your frontier upbringing has limited your understanding of how our society functions—its basic rules of modesty and dignity. I cannot blame your esteemed grandparents. They are the most wonderful people I know, but one wonders."

"Patriarch Liu…" Pao interjected on her behalf. "I am willing to take any punishment. Please leave Gwen out of this."

"Now, Mr Chen, we're not done with Miss Song yet."

Gwen was an inch from going nuclear and hitting the Mutually Assured Destruction button when she detected her grandfather eyeballing her. She blinked back angrily.

Her grandfather looked over at the bridal table, shook his head, and then shot a sideways glance at Liu before narrowing his eyes dangerously. Liu could see something was up, but the secretary was too far along in his oration.

"Now, knowing what you have set in motion, Miss Song, I want to know how you wish to resolve this. If you have nothing to say, perhaps Secretary Guo can provide some wisdom to share with us. No one wants a spectacle at their son's wedding, no?"

So that's it, Gwen realised. It would appear negotiations over the allegiance between the Songs and the House of Liu had yet to be settled. Gwen glared at her grandfather, her eyes fiery and demanding.

"Gwen," Guo's voice filled the room with its sonorous timbre. "I want to hear what you have to say."

The unexpected olive branch surprised Gwen as much as it clearly startled her grandmother, who stared at her husband with astonishment.

Gwen stepped forward. By now, a ring of rubbernecking guests had gathered around the commotion. Many of the non-factional members remained seated, likely afraid they might anger the Chair of the Confidential Communications Committee. Others, members of Liu's faction, took up an audience to lend the secretary their clout. If someone like the infamous Secretary Song, the old “hound dog” of the CCP, could be taken down a peg and brought to heel, it would do wonders for their factional influence.

Gwen smoothed out her dress, her calves lifted by the Trojan gift of Hermès. Mindful of her hostile audience, she struck a power pose. Let them look, she mused sardonically. May your eyes rot.

To Gwen, Qin's purpose, intentional or otherwise, was now clear. Whether Secretary Liu had premediated the event no longer mattered. What was important was that her grandparents had been cornered because she’d fallen for a pair of shoes, among other things.

Secretary Liu's intent, she discerned, was to show that the Songs had diminished since the heydays of the Ash Bringer.

Though Ayxin's presence was entirely unanticipated, Jun's absence had set something unexpected into motion. She doubted Patriarch Liu would push her grandfather like this if Jun could step in. Whatever his plans, Liu was honour-bound to give face to the Hero of the North or risk ire from the PLA's military.

"Secretary Liu." Gwen stood with her shoulders squared and legs slightly apart. Her Draconic Essence filled her veins and mana channels, giving her an air of effortless supremacy.

The change in the atmosphere was immediately notable as the crowd ceased murmuring.

"What I am about to tell you is the truth and nothing but the truth. Listen well. I do not know Mr Chen. I have never met Mr Chen in my life. My dress…" She slowly turned, her gaze sweeping past the silent crowd, shivering spines and silencing small children. "Was chosen for me by Qīn, your daughter. I do not personally have an issue with it. I am grateful she gave me such beautiful attire to attend her wedding. If you feel scandalised, take it up with her."

"You can't expect me to—" Liu moved in to cut her off. Unfortunately for the patriarch, Gwen’s performance was far from over.

"Let her finish." Her grandfather moved a hand in front of Liu's face—a supremely offensive gesture. But Guo was the elder, and the old man held a higher, far more sensitive position within the CCP.

The two men gazed upon one another like two tigers sizing their opponents. One was an old veteran of the jungle, the other an ambitious intruder looking to expand his territory.

Liu relented, for now. To Gwen’s understanding, the man could not publicly break with the patriarch of the Songs.

"Mr Chen?"

Pao appeared bewildered by Gwen's outright denial of his existence. "Y-yes?"

"I am not the girl you are looking for, Mr Chen. Let it go."

"But it was you!" Pao protested desperately, his face scarlet from sweaty brow to the throbbing neck. "I know it was you. How could I forget your face? All my friends were there." He turned to his friends in the crowd.

"That's her!"

"Yes, she's the one!"

"We even have lumen pics!"

One of them waved a Pic-recorder.

"What do you say to that?" Liu grinned wolfishly. The secretary immediately commanded the young man to approach. A moment of tinkering later, an iMage became visible, projected via an Illusionary Enchantment embedded into the device.

There was a picture of Gwen in her white sundress, standing beside Pao. She stood like a queen surrounded by her sycophants—arrogant, proud and beyond reproach. The boys were cowed by her demeanour, clearly subordinate to her presence.

A thunderous clamour broke out among the audience; a few of the guests began to chuckle. Voices jeering at Gwen rose above those restraining themselves to polite mirth.

Gwen could almost hear their thoughts. The girl was a liar, and she had been caught red-handed. What a moment of shame for her elders! What a thing for the granddaughter of the Songs to do! The apple had fallen far from the tree indeed. Perhaps the girl was insensible from her excessive drinking? Mayhap she had been raised as a greenhouse flower and had thought the world her oyster because of her uncommonly pretty face?

"The woman in that picture is not me!" Gwen's voice rang out over the courtyard.

But there was no one to hear her.

Granddaughter and grandfather stood in the middle of a circle of wedding guests, bearing the cross of humiliation. To Gwen's wonderment, her grandfather reached out to her. She reflexively responded by offering her grandfather a hand, which Guo took.

Her grandfather drew a few pictograms in her hand.

Gwen blinked rapidly at Guo. She didn't understand Chinese.

Her Ioun stone couldn't translate secret handwriting.

Guo blinked back.

The two regarded one another as the clamour persisted.

Secretary Liu raised a hand. The laughter ceased.

It was a clear demonstration of power and influence, one that said to Guo and Klavdiya that he could make all of this go away if only they'd listen to his proposal.

"I want compensation!" The Hu boy cried out, breaking the silence as if on cue. "Now we know the girl's a liar. She attacked me first. She owes me an apology and a favour. The Songs owe the Yuan family an apology!"

Before Gwen could retract her hand from Guo's grasp, Chen Pao, the unwittingly involved young man, lost his shit entirely.

“Shut it! Shut the fuck up!” The poor fool's eyes were glazed over with rage and unrestrained passion. "I challenge you! I challenge you to a death match! You fucking liar! How dare you sully Miss Song's name! I'll KILL YOU!"

"PAO!" A voice pleaded from the crowd. "Don't be a fool. Apologise and go home! You're no match for Young Master Yuan."

"I can't, Uncle." Pao gazed at Gwen longingly, his voice choking as he spoke. "I must defend her, even if she doesn't care or remember me."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Gwen felt her temple throbbing painfully. You fucking simpleton. She glanced over at the bridal table, hoping her father or Qīn could salvage the situation.

The bridal party was gone. Her father was fucking gone.

Within Gwen's mind, the final puzzle pieces fell into place. Secretary Liu must have begun the night with hopes of humiliation to push the Songs in the right direction.

What blew her mind was that Hai, her father, left with his cunt of a wife instead of standing up for his own family. But then again, what the fuck had she expected? As for her uncle Jun, he'd probably have to offer his body to the Dragon witch, quelling her wrathful lust. She imagined her uncle lying on his back, thinking of China as Ayxin did what came naturally to Dragons.

Just as the two hot-headed youths were about to leave for the duelling arena in the other courtyard, her grandfather walked between them. "You two, a moment before you shame yourselves."

Guo turned to face the wedding guests, studying the faces of those who had mocked and laughed at a chair of the CCP's inner circle as if carefully remembering their faces.

Her grandfather stepped beside her, joining her precious babulya. "I believe my granddaughter is telling the truth." His voice was penetrating, empowered by Suggestion, enhanced by Illusion, skills which Guo had squirrelled away over the years.

Gwen felt her skin shiver.

She was sure she had misheard. Guo was taking her side? Had the Para-Elemental Plane of Ice taken over the Plane of Fire?

The old man appeared to grow in size as he addressed his audience. "Two truths are presented before us. If you do or do not believe the words of Guo Song, that is your choice, though I tell you now as the chair of the Chinese Communist Party's Confidential Communications Committee, my granddaughter is not a liar."

Guo reminded Gwen of an old lion, finally angry enough to work up its former power. "Who among you will challenge me? Speak up now. I welcome it."

The crowd fell silent. She could feel the sudden and uncomfortable reminder that this man knew their secrets, perhaps better than themselves, like a slap to their faces.

Guo's mien remained ironclad, though his timbre dropped an octave as his voice rang out once more. "So you hold your peace," Guo said. "Good. But the Songs do not require another to defend their honour."

He turned to Gwen.

Gwen puffed out her chest, taken by her grandfather's uncharacteristic outburst. Was this what they meant when they said that a dangerous dog rarely barks because you'd only hear it after it had torn off your face?

"Gwen, show these whelps why you have no interest in them and why their accusations are false. A toad may wish to take a bite of the swan, but the immutable truth is that toads are toads! Do what you will. You have my support."

Suddenly, the thin veneer of politeness hiding the hostility between the two families was torn. Mina, Tao, and Petra broke through the crowd to stand beside Gwen.

"We believe our cousin," Tao declared, defiantly looking around at Hangzhou's collective Guan-er-dai and Fu-er-dai. "Peaches will fuck ’em up for you, Gwen. They all know who my dad is. Let's see ’em try! These motherfuckers are gonna be bankrupt before the weekend's out! You er-bis want to honour your house? I'll buy your dogshit house and kick you out. You're homeless, you hear me?"

Gwen fought to suppress a snort of inappropriate laughter. Tao's boast was just that, but didn't they say one had to fight poison with poison?

"I'll act as your Abjurer in Richard's absence," Petra declared, giving Gwen a curt nod as she flashed her storage ring. "I always bring a full complement of Spell Cubes. By the way, I’ve got a tier VI Blade Barrier loaded for emergencies."

"I'll heal." Mina sounded peeved that Tao had just dragged her out here without her consent, though for once, her brother had tossed her under the bus for the right reason.

Gwen turned to the young man from the Hu family. Her body felt light, her conduits were alive with mana. "You still insist that it was my fault?"

The young man appeared paralysed, which meant there was no forthcoming apology. Watching Hu's face twisted in anguish and self-righteous indignation, she lost the last ounce of her sympathy.

"Well, are you going to apologise?" she demanded.

Hu's eyes were wildly eyeballing Secretary Liu.

"This is absurd." Patriarch Liu scowled as events escalated nonsensically. You can't get away with this, Miss Song."

"Sumei." Her grandfather intervened. The old man's countenance suggested he was browsing turnips at a market, not facing the disintegration of his family's reputation. "Care for a wager?"

"What do you have in mind, Guo?"

Her grandfather's reply filled the courtyard. "If a single one of your clan's juniors can defeat my seventeen-year-old granddaughter tonight in a duel, I will join the House of Song wholeheartedly to your faction and labour toward whatever cause the Conservative Party wishes. Furthermore, your male or female grandchild will become the inheritor of both our houses."

The world felt Liu's heart skip a beat. The guests ceased their eating, drinking, and merry-making. Duels were a common feature of any good social gathering. The after-dinner entertainment allowed the elders to show off their young people.

And contest egos.

"And if she survives the contest?" Liu’s mask was cracking.

"If Gwen should prove the victor, the House of Song and I shall cease all obligations toward the House of Liu. Your future grandchild will not only have the last name Song, but they will belong to my household."

Liu stared at Guo, his mouth half-open. Gwen wondered if the old dog dared to test her grandfather's resolve.

"You ask for a difficult wager."

Guo turned to Secretary Liu. For the first time, a smile touched his lips.

"It's true what they say. Paper Tigers don't bite."

A few of the guests snorted. His idiomatic phrase was enough make Liu’s face turn bright red. The Secretary of Hangzhou closed his eyes for a brief few seconds to cool his feverish mind. "Very well, Secretary Song."

The two men's hands met in a firm and unrelenting shake. "I applaud your confidence, Secretary Liu.”

Guo nodded at his granddaughter, who felt finally, genuine respect for her grandfather.

Receiving the confirmation from Guo, Gwen patted Pao on the shoulder, feeling commiseration for the addled sod. "I'll take it from here, buddy. Thanks for the save. Too bad I am not her, eh?"

Pao's lips trembled as he sank to one knee. "Anything for you."

Gwen sidestepped his attempt at kissing her, careful not to reward the man with a knee to the kisser. She then turned to the assembly of “suitors” gathered in front of her. She stuck a thumb in the direction of the outer courtyard. A blue-white spark zinged from her shoes and grounded itself on the stone pavement. She placed a hand on her hip. Their insults, lies and humiliation had left welts on her mind that could only be soothed by tier VI Lightning.

"All right, kids. Like my grandaddy said, it's fuck or walk time."

The men stared. Her expletive was rather explosive.

"Don't you bastards dare go soft on me now."

Chapter thirty-four

Whetting the Appetite

As an international sport, Mage duels were forbidden in the West, though they had existed amongst the Chinese elite in an unofficial capacity since antiquity.

Compared to grand displays of power and ego, the Tower's system had brought a code of conduct upheld by adjudicators and participants from the moment they stepped into the sacred space of the arena.

Commonly, Acolytes and Mages duelled for practice and to settle grievances. Maguses often participated, but were restricted to a lower tier of Spellcraft. Magisters, however, were strongly discouraged from dangerous and excessive demonstrations of their powers. Past the middle tiers, spells were far more likely to result in fatalities.

In general, duels to the death were illegal and frowned upon as a waste of human resources. However, when contests were held in unofficial capacities, "accidents" tended to be a fact of life.

By the time Gwen and her toothless groper entered, banquet tables had already been shifted to the side and an impromptu area about the size of two tennis courts had been boxed in with portable Force Barriers. Below the transparent "box" was the koi pond, though the fish were now absent.

A wave of nostalgia assailed Gwen's memory. When she had visited Elvia's mansion in Sydney a lifetime ago, Evee's extended relatives had duelled over the water. The Frontier Aussies hadn’t had access to Force Barriers and had to instead rely on floating docks and the bay itself to displace wayward spells.

The news had circulated that the two patriarchs were betting the honour and the future of their houses on the contest, drawing all eyes to Gwen as she stood with her family on the sidelines, awaiting the opening act.

"Gwen, we're all behind you." Petra gave her cousin a long-overdue embrace.

"Yeah, girl. Any ho who even thinks of trashing you better watch their bank!" Tao announced a little too loudly.

"Thanks, Peaches. I appreciate the gesture." Gwen ruffled Tao's hair, flustering the young man. Tao was her senior by almost four years, but Gwen always treated him like he was the younger one. "But no threatening my opponents with bankruptcy, you hear? You're going to ruin Grandfather's plan."

"What plan?" Mina scoffed. "Throwing you to the wolves?"

As her father's spoiled little jewel, Mina had rarely had to stomach Guo's discipline. Whenever the old man grew grumpy, she scoffed and left. It was one reason the Wangs and the Songs had grown apart over the years, that and Tao's insistence on his career in music and entertainment instead of military, politics, or commerce.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Gwen stifled a smile. "They may be wolves, but I am the Lurker in the Dark."

"Ha! Is that a self-prescribed nickname?"

"How about Black Widow?" Peaches suggested. "Now that's a bitch'n moniker."

"I don't think so," Gwen said. That name is copyrighted.

Petra placed a hand on Gwen's shoulders.

Gwen looked up inquisitively, meeting her cousin's startling, husky-like eyes.

"Gwen, may I?" Petra enquired.

She gave consent. Petra focused her mind, sending an inquisitive diagnostic glyph into her cousin's body.

Gwen forced herself to relax as Petra called up her current status, gauging the change in her sigils, Affinity, and biometrics.

"Jesus." Petra breathed in. "You're…"

Gwen put a finger to her lips.

"What is it?" Tao leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Did Uncle Jun leave Gwen with some killer item?"

"Something like that." Gwen laughed.

"Where is Uncle Jun, anyhow?" Mina looked around.

"He's preoccupied, I'd wager, pounding away for the motherland," Gwen answered more cattily than she would have liked, wondering what her uncle could be doing with Ayxin. If her uncle could return at a convenient time, it would make the Songs’ victory doubly assured. But then again, if Jun threw his reputation around bullishly, the Lius may launch everything they had.

It would be total war.

With the barriers assembled and tested for rigidity, an older gentleman in a mandarin jacket presented himself.

"Good evening all. For those who do not know me, I am Magus Owen Ly, Registered under the PLA Tower in Shanghai, holding the rank of major in the PLA. I have been asked by Committee Chair Song and District Secretary Liu to oversee the proceedings of this auspicious duel celebrating the wedding of Magus Liu and Mr Song. If there is any among you who desire to question my impartiality as arbitrator of the duel, please speak now."

A moment of silence reigned, followed by polite applause.

"Excellent. I shall now proceed. From the House of Song, we have Gwen, a first-year student from Fudan. She is the daughter of Mr Hai Song."

Gwen walked forward, watched by her family.

Klavidya turned to her husband, who held his wife's hand. "You're not nervous?" Gwen felt the congealed sweetness between them like syrup.

"While you spoke with Gwen a few nights ago, I spoke with Jun." Guo's face was impassive, but there was a hint of gentleness in his eyes. "For weal or woe, Gwen has become powerful. I have every confidence in her ability."

Klavdiya blinked for details. Guo said nothing.

Upon on the duelling dais, Magus Ly continued. "First to challenge Miss Song is Cadet Zheng Hu, from the Branch House of Cheng, serving the House of Liu."

One of the spectators indignantly offered his upset. "They're pitting that poor girl against a military officer? What's Patriarch Song thinking?"

His companion shrugged. "You mean what's Patriarch Liu thinking."

Magus Ly seemed unsure of the proceedings as well. "Miss Song, may I obtain a confirmation? Do you intend to proceed? This is not a contest until shield break. You may very well receive grievous injuries."

"I am ready."

"Very well. Duellists, enter the arena, please."

The walls became immaterial.

"There is to be no item usage, nor any offensive or supportive magical armaments. The match is to first 'yield'. Until then, I shall not intervene."

Both contestants affirmed their willingness to follow the Magus's guidance.

"You'll be sorry, you little minx. The world will see what kind of woman you are."

Gwen ignored Hu's shit-talking. Any action not contributing to the bastard's decimation wasted her time. Above them, the Magus levitated until he was behind a section shielded from the combat below, standing just above the cage. He could erect new barriers to protect a defeated combatant from additional injury at a second’s notice.

“BEGIN!”

Cheng’s half of the arena grew suddenly hot. "Flame Str—" the man began.

"Lightning Bolt!" Gwen was already done.

Where Hu had desired to use Flame Strike, smothering the better half of Gwen's court with fire, Gwen had only one goal—the first-strike advantage. A blue bolt of raw plasma issued from thin air, connecting the space between herself and her target with an arm-thick concatenation of ionised air.

Hu's shield activated at once, forming a semi-dome wreathed in orange.

Krink!

With a sound like crushed glass, his shield cracked.

"Shit!" Hu halted the spell on his lips, switching to defence, weaving another shield into place. Basic Abjuration was a staple of military training, even for Elementalist damage dealers.

"Fire—"

"Lighting Bolt!"

A second bolt joined the first, blinding the audience with its intensity.

"Shit!"

"Lighting Bolt!" Gwen's first bolt diffused only when her third bolt issued forth. To the audience, it seemed as though three lines of lightning had tethered Hu to Gwen, preventing him from repositioning himself.

"Mao! What's her Affinity?"

"How much mana is that girl channelling into those bolts?"

"Maximised Lightning Bolt?"

"Looks empowered."

Hu's shielding failed yet again. "Blink!" A bolt grazed the Fire Mage just as he disappeared. The man was already half-paralysed and smouldering with static when he appeared behind Gwen.

Gwen had been waiting. She knew that her opponent's only recourse was to close in. Fire Mages tended to have many low to mid-level short-range AOEs with high damage thresholds, such as Flaming Hand, Flame Toss, and Wall of Fire. Close-quarter elemental combat was where certain Elementalists shined.

"Lightning Whip!" Her “whip” caught the man as he emerged, sizzling his half-formed shield before it could expand to protect his body.

"Flaming H—"

"Lightning Bolt!"

"Aarrrrgh!"

Crack! Crack!

Again and again, she flayed away at Hu's arrogant mug, watching his face fill with fear and panic.

Spak! Spak! CRASH!

Hu's shield failed yet again. Her whip struck the man's flesh.

A sudden crackle not unlike a thunderclap resounded across the courtyard, followed by a nostril-distending stink of burnt flesh. A welting gash of strikingly salient blood ran from the man's temple, down his nose, and across his chest.

"Do you yield?" Gwen halted. Her whip hand trembled. Her brain took a moment to catch up with her thrilling body. Holy shit! She had almost maimed a man! A man whose crime had only been aborted sexual harassment. Her heart pounded, white-hot adrenaline dangerously pumping through her systems, demanding gratification.

"I… blurrgh." Hu appeared more robust than his demeanour suggested, caught between honour and self-preservation. His voice was cut short as a paralysing agony wrecked his nervous system.

"VICTOR, Miss Song!" Magus Ly shook his head, declaring Hu's loss.

Gwen diffused her whip. She shook out her fingers. A portion of her brain chemistry urged her to continue. The rational part of her discourse issued a red card to the psycho persona who wanted to administer another twenty lashes.

"What? No!" Her assailant rose from the floor. "I haven't yielded. I haven't even completed a single spell. This is not fair! She's using an accelerator, a spell booster ring. You said no offensive items. She cheated!"

The wedding guests burst into boos and jeers. Hu's face grew three shades darker.

A dark and tenebrous mask of rage overruled Hu’s calm. "Stinking biaozi!" he screamed at the audacious girl. "HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

Gwen narrowed her gleaming eyes. Enough was enough.

Something equally dark within her mind answered the young man's call to combat. A surge of Draconic Essence circulated violently through her body as she focused her will upon the screaming imbecile.

Her whip materialised instantly. She raised her arm menacingly, ready to deliver the maiming blow.

Up above, Magus Ly felt observed their battle.

Below, Hu stood dumb as a statue, his body frozen in place by an instinct for survival Gwen knew all too well. A trickle of yellow liquid began to seep from between his legs.

"That's it for the Chengs. Good riddance," someone said.

Gwen's disciplinary intervention paused mid-air. She had no desire to whip an incontinent man.

"Mercy! Miss Song! Mercy! Hey, let me through! MERCY, MISTRESS!"

A man, presumably a relative of the young Hu, banged against the Force Barrier with all his might. Magus Ly prevented the man from entering. "Miss Song?"

Gwen lowered the whip when she saw Cheng's follower on his knees, banging his head on the pavement outside the duelling box. Her anger deflated. The pity she felt was overwhelming. "Let him in." She motioned to the wall.

Magus Ly complied.

The intruder ran toward the young Master Hu before bodily picking up the mortified young man from where he had spread his foulness over the floor.

"I… I yield." The declaration came too late and too inconsequentially. The Chengs’ good name had been pissed away, and all the magic in Hangzhou couldn't put it back in his bladder.

"Make way!"

The audience made way. There was no point in continuing to shame or jeer the young man. He had already pissed his future into the wind by losing to a seventeen-year-old girl.

She caught sight of Chen Pao, the man who'd mistaken Ayxin for her. The poor sod appeared more convinced than ever that she was "the one", his eyes earnest enough to burn holes into her dress. Turning away, she averted her eyes from the man's gaze. Those were a stalker's eyes. When would Ayxin be back? How long was her uncle going to work his magic?

"Hit me!" She signalled Tao. He tossed her a bottle of Maotai she had commanded him to scrounge. Gwen didn't need Divination to know that she would soon need to draw upon her vitality-empowered abilities.

"What was that you hit ’em with?!" Tao's eyes gleamed with marvel. "A new spell? Was it Enchantment? Did you finally pick up Enchantment?"

"Naw." Gwen slugged the bottle like mineral water, savouring the warmth soaking her mana conduits. She recalled the last time she and Tao had had a similar conversation. She put down the bottle and coolly informed her cousin that she'd been training her “killing intent”.

"Woo." Tao's mouth hung open. Her cousin gripped his hands in tight fists, sharing in her victory.

Meanwhile, the crowd gave their condolences to the Cheng family.

Gwen turned to see Guo and Sumei. Both old men wore their expressions like Noh masks, revealing nothing.

Who would crack first? Gwen wondered, looking forward to the next match.

"Got what you wanted?" Guo asked his companion.

Liu ignored him. Guo's taunt was as arrogant as it was confident.Liu knew he had been baited. Gwen's prowess had been revealed, but her depth remained unprobed. The miscalculation didn't mean Liu didn't have a contingency of his own, though the foul taste in his mouth was undeniable. The House of Liu had gained local prominence by absorbing, allying, and marrying into the local clans, and Jiangnan remained the birthplace of many of China's most celebrated scholar-sages.

The question was how many of their young folk he could afford to throw at Gwen without invalidating the gambit Guo had goaded him into. If he resorted to grinding Gwen down with trash before assaulting her with their most talented Magus, the amount of face the Lius would lose would be immense, nullifying the whole purpose of subjugating the Songs into the Conservative Faction. Most importantly, the underhanded tactic would anger the Ash Bringer, who could then have an excuse to step in.

Liu Sumei measured the pros and cons of sending out his trump card immediately. There were still too many unknowns. What if the girl had a spell that happened to counter the prodigy he had in mind—the pride and joy of the Suzhou branch of the House of Liu? Liu was confident that within the confines of the arena, it was impossible that his nephew, Wonsoo, could lose.

Still, it paid to be careful. Guo was an old dog, but even a decrepit mutt could crush one's hand if given the opportunity. Should the Lius lose, all the investment they had put into the Songs’ first son would be forfeited, not to mention that he would lose his daughter and a future heir of the Hangzhou bloodline. As the parable goes from the Three Kingdoms, he had no desire to lose the army and then the bride.

Three more challengers—Sumei affirmed the limit of his conviction—then he would send out Wonsoo.

From the looks of the girl's Lightning Affinity, she was at least above a five—marking her as a rare breed. No wonder Guo was uncannily confident.

If he should fail…

No, Sumei tapped his chin. It was unthinkable that the girl could defeat Wonsoo.

"Ji-an," he called out to the crowd.

A young clanner in her early twenties stepped forward. The girl had a wisp-like aura that gave her the appearance of a swaying willow. Her hair, her limbs, everything about the girl seemed weightless.

"Please demonstrate the famous Spellcraft of the White Crane School to our guests."

"Yes, Uncle Liu."

As before, the two combatants were invited into the arena. A group of NoMs had cleaned the place thoroughly, ensuring that neither Gwen nor Ji-an would accidentally slip or step on the shameful display left behind by Gwen's last contestant.

Ji-an bowed toward her patriarch. Gwen hastily performed the same gesture for her grandfather, eliciting a few awkward laughs from the audience, defusing the tension somewhat.

From above, Magus Ly asked if they were ready.

"Yessir."

"I am ready."

"Begin!"

"Air Step!"

“Lightning Bolt!” Liu had thought the girl would catch his second contestant again with a fast-chant offensive, but Ji-an’s opponent eluded her assault by using a signature form of Blink.

Sidestepping Gwen's line-based elemental onslaught, Ji-an appeared half a meter to Gwen's right, then swung her hand in a broad, sweeping gesture. A Melee Mage? Gwen mentally adjusted her strategy. The wispy-looking girl was a Melee caster?

“Shield!” Gwen's barrier manifested in the blink of an eye, springing from her body as a semi-dome.

TSsszzz!

A horizon slash turned the frontal lobe of her shield stark white. Fast! Gwen immediately fortified her Non-Newtonian Shield, anticipating the follow-up.

Tssshing! Psshing! Tzzwing!

Ji-an's Air Blades were a tier-one chant, but her spell flurry was pumping out almost three scythes in the space of one of Gwen's Lighting Bolts.

For the observing Liu, the Aerial Mage's plan had worked brilliantly against the Lightning Sorceress, who had no idea what to expect. She was caught flat-footed in the same manner as the Cheng Fire Mage. However, the question his mind was now how long his candidate could hold out, for the Mages of Air seldom possessed strong stamina.

Outside the perimeter of the duelling area, Liu turned to Guo. "Your granddaughter appears to be using westernised Spellcraft. Have you taught her nothing?"

"She received her education in Sydney." Guo sipped his tea.

"Western Spellcraft is predictable." Liu smirked. "What will she do now? Her Abjuration is only tier I, is it not?"

Guo glanced at his rival. Is the secretary showing off his intelligence network? What a laughable and stupid display from a bureaucrat playing at espionage.

"I wonder." Guo pursed his thin lips, forming a grey line. "It would be laughable if your Affinity four Kenshi with Transmutation and Evocation at tier IV couldn't even break through Gwen's paltry tier I Abjuration Shield."

Liu snorted with derisive mirth as Guo continued to nurse his cup.

Guo drank his tea. The duels would speak for themselves.

The front part of Gwen's Shield had become almost entirely opaque. The Air Blades were barely penetrating the first layer. But she paid it no mind, for she could top up her shield faster than Ji-an could diminish it.

Compared to Kusu, who had assailed her with a hundred daggers at once, the Air Mage's blades were barely a chicken scratch. Correlated against Lulan's spell flurry, whose blades could crack the first layer of her shielding with a single strike, the force from Ji-an's was laughable.

What troubled Gwen was how she would nail the speedster without giving away too much of her ability. Ariel was still asleep. Caliban Gwen wanted to save for a tight spot. Without Cali's pants-shitting, PTSD-inducing initial impact, the melee monster had limited utility.

She considered a large-scale AOE. Ball Lightning? But that too was one of her trump cards.

Something akin to a bluff that could unbalance her enemies would be best. Gwen wasn't sure how many contestants there would be, though five or six wouldn't be out of the question. If the Lius kept throwing fodder at her, could she also call for a proxy while she took a break? The only other Song who could fill in for her was Tao, though no one wanted to see that happen, least of all Tao himself. Perhaps Petra could fill in, but her position as Magister Wen's disciple and her lack of affiliation with the House of Song could be used to contest her eligibility.

Perhaps Percy could participate. Gwen searched the crowd and saw her brother standing behind Tao and Mina. By then, the assault had slowed and her shield was restoring its clarity faster than Ji-an's attack could make its surface opaque. By Gwen's count, the girl must have fired off thirty blades. Even someone with enhanced mental fortitude would have to endure spell fatigue sooner or later.

To Gwen's surprise, she and Percy's eyes briefly met; her brother responded by giving her an encouraging nod and a thumbs up. The gesture filled her with good cheer.

"Flashbang!" Gwen generated an over-charged crystal, humming dangerously in the palm of her hand.

Outside her shielding, Ji-an launched an AOE clearly in the hopes of draining her mana pool. So far, the Ice Mage had been hewing away at a mountainside. "Ice Storm!"

Being an Air Mage, Ji-an lacked the impact and penetration of Ice Mages when using the spell. "Air Lance!"

Thunk! A battering ram of ice and air slammed into Gwen's shield. The eastern quadrant turned entirely opaque as the projectile struck.

Inside the dome, Gwen was ready. "Dimension Door!"

"Air Step!" Ji-an was relentless, tailing Gwen's movements even as she appeared on the far side of the duelling arena. It was a testament to the girl's talent that she was tracking Gwen's Conjuration-based teleportation with naught but Transmutation.

What greeted Ji-an, however, was a blast of lightning as they both materialised.

Gwen felt sorry for the girl, for few knew that Dimension Door was uniquely taught by Henry Kilroy and could be used as an offensive tool. Her opponent erected a hasty shield as she attempted to reposition herself Instead Gwen made sure the sound of a clicking crystal greeted the girl.

After which she instantly disappeared behind yet another shield, one consumed by a dark membrane.

BUNG! Her opponent’s world filled with light as the sonic blast concussed her brain. Unlike her Void Shield, the Air Mage's defensive barrier was transparent and paper-thin, suitable only for deflection.

The sound rattled the Force Barriers and sent Gwen’s opponent off balance, falling to her buttocks. Disoriented and stunned, the Air Caster staggered, struggling to rise. As an Aerial Combat Mage, evasion and avoidance were their staple defence.

"Lightning Bolt!” Gwen was keen to end the match.

"I fo—" Ji-an was too late. Gwen had no intention of letting things end without pain.

CRACK!

A lightning bolt sizzled past the Air Mage’s face, filling the air with ozone. The plasma had ripped through her shield and would have sent her straight to Hangzhou's ICU had Gwen not altered the trajectory of her spell. The female Mage fell to one knee, her entire body visibly quivering with exhaustive fear as she took in the reality of her unexpected survival.

"I forfeit!” She pushed the words from her bloodless lips.

“VICTOR—MISS SONG!” Magus Ly landed beside Ji-an and examined the status of the her foe. The blindness and deafness would soon wear off. Gwen hoped she was otherwise unharmed.

"Good work." The adjudicator nodded appreciatively at Gwen with an expression of immense relief. "Most excellent control, Miss Song. You should be proud. I'd thought you would have struck the girl for sure."

"Nothing to it." Gwen smiled at the Magus before helping Ji-an to stand. “You alright?"

"I thank you for your mercy." Ji-an bowed deeply.

"Hey, we're just pawns in someone else's game. It's nothing personal." Gwen gave the girl a thumbs-up and a hug. "I am glad you're okay."

Ji-an accepted Gwen's embrace, a gesture that met with applause from around the courtyard.

Gwen turned to regard her grandfather, finding the old man golf-clapping. When she smiled at him, he cleared his throat and stoically returned to nursing his tea. Waving her opponent off, she descended the dais as naturally as she could muster.

Her heart was racing over a hundred and fifty. What had the instructor said?

Most excellent control? Control? She had never possessed the ability to twist her lightning! That she had done so could only mean one thing.

"Ariel!" She internally called out to her Familiar.

"EE-ee!" Ariel responded with a resounding squeak.

"Did you redirect that Lighting Bolt?"

"EE!"

"YOU BLOODY RIPPER!" Gwen gushed audibly.

As she was among her cousins, her outburst surprised Tao, who’d been about to high-five her. "I didn't do nothing!" her cousin protested.

"Ha-ha, Peaches, sorry, I intended that to be silent."

"Gwen, is that what I think it is?" Petra must have seen what she had done as well. "You got one? You and Uncle Jun found one?"

Petra and Mina were both equally excited.

"No, but close enough. Yes!" Gwen gave the two of them a round of high-fives, so giddy that she was having trouble expressing herself.

"Congrats on the spirit, sis," a quiet voice rang out from behind Tao.

"Oh, Percy." Gwen felt taken aback by her brother's unwieldy propensity for misunderstandings. She had told him the truth—that they had found nothing. Now Percy was sulking. "It's complicated."

"No, it's fine. I am happy for you, sis." Percy took her hand, but his fingers had no rigidity to them; she may as well be holding flaccid Korean rice cakes.

A wave of annoyance came over her. Here she was, fighting for the honour and continued existence of the House of Song, a house that had rejected her as an “heir” and yet her brother was moping about some immaterial detail.

She blinked. Fighting for the House of SONG? Had her grandfather roped her into the whole ordeal without her even noticing that she was now fighting for the very house whose continuation she had rejected?

She turned to glare at Guo. That conniving, sneaky, weaselly old man!

But then Gwen saw her babulya standing beside her grandfather, and her peevish ire melted away. Klavdiya's face appeared far more relaxed than she could recall in the last few days, prideful and happy. The heart-gnawing sensation of watching her babulya losing hairs over her wayward son was a wretched sight Gwen never wanted to see again. For babulya, she would do this. Not for Guo.

Jun was away dealing with Ayxin. Hai was pussyfooting about. Guo was too busy trying to worm his way out of their firstborn's blunder. Percy was acting like a selfish little shit. Who would look out for their grandmother?

She would. It was up to Gwen to protect the meagre blessings of an unfortunate mother worn threadbare by her boundless devotion to family.

The Worm Wrangler of Fudan flexed her fingers. She would be the champion of her babulya's fragile happiness.

For Klavdiya, she would slay Dragons.

Chapter thirty-five

The Undertow

“Awonderful match."

Guo averted his eyes when Gwen turned to glare at him. The girl was uncannily mature but easily caught up in her emotions. For all her talent and her mysterious resistance to Enchantment, a pathos-driven prod in the right direction was all that had been necessary to get her blood boiling.

In all honesty, Guo admired Gwen’s reflexive, dog-like willingness to attack anyone threatening her loved ones. His problem was that the girl counted dangerous individuals such as Schultz and De Botton among that number and that her loyalty could never be monopolised.

Opposite Guo, Secretary Liu appeared to share doubts of his own.

"Yes," the man muttered. "I did not expect that. How could an offensive Elementalist tank over twenty exchanges without refreshing her guard even once? There must be something amiss with my informers."

The secretary wasn't alone in his bemusement. The same queries dominated the conversation beside and behind the two patriarchs, with the wedding guests likewise marvelling at the supernatural rigidity of Gwen's immovable and impenetrable shielding.

"I say," a voice meditated from somewhere in the crowd. "Anyone recall the Morning Star, Magus Shultz, the Paladin of the Sydney Tower?"

"What of it?"

"He's a Quasi-Elementalist Offensive caster, but he possesses a hard-point shield."

"But Shultz is from Oceania. This girl's from the Song family."

"Who knows? Isn't the girl half-Russian?"

"She's half Commonwealth."

"That's not a country."

"She looks like a full-blooded gweilo to me."

"No, she's from Oceania. I am sure of it!"

Liu slowly turned toward Guo, an unpleasant premonition openly showing from his tightening lips. "Your granddaughter isn't… acquainted with Oceania, is she?"

"No, more so joined at the hip. You may think of Gwen as a sister to the Morning Star, heir to the late Magister's Kilroy's seat on the Oceania Council of Ten, and current Master of the Sydney Tower."

His long and deliberate range of titles hammered away at the patriarch.

Guo kept the mirth from reaching his mouth. Liu was a District Secretary—a stranger to foreign affairs. Though he may act as the master of his domain, the realm outside his principality loomed, dark and dangerous, full of unknowns the secretary could not know. Despite lording over ten million souls across the rivers and lakes of Jiangnan, the secretary, in Guo's honest opinion, remained the idiomatic frog in the well.

It had been a common disease of the Chinese since antiquity. Even the CCP, hoping for a larger slice of the pie on the global stage, suffered from this collective malady.

How unfathomable someone like Gunther Shultz must seem to a man like Liu. The existence of a Mage whose name was known worldwide, whose individual capability could make or break treaties with demi-humans, was as strange and distant as the Yinglong on the mount.

What was terrifying was that Shultz was only in his late thirties. If one considered that Radiant Mages had one of the longest natural lifespans bar Healers, who would dare to anger a man like that? A man who, given time and the right political climate, would undoubtedly assume the mantle of a Magi?

What was more curious was that Liu had so many details missing from his intelligence. It seemed that whoever had ensnared the secretary was likewise an opportunist, one who stood to gain regardless of the outcome.

As for Gunther Shultz… When he’d first known the girl's connection to the Sydney Tower, he’d weighed the possibility of sending Gwen to the north.

Perhaps her siblings-in-craft would follow their wayward sister. If a Mage of the Morning Star's calibre could lend the PLA his support on the Northern Front…

But Guo had banished that fancy to the abyss, nipped the idea in the bud.

The risks did not outweigh the rewards, not that Klavdiya would have allowed it. There were lines not even he dared to cross, and his wife was one of them.

"Who will be your next candidate?" Guo sipped his tea.

"Your confidence may be tested yet." Liu adjusted his posture. "So she has a spirit? Did she receive it in the Purple Zone in Huangshan? You understood the risks of sending your son and granddaughter there, yes?"

"Speak for yourself." Guo met his opponent's eyes, sensing Liu trying to wiggle his way out of the predicament. "You authorised Jun's pass."

"Only to venture past the Dragon Pine." Liu curled his lips. "If they murdered one of the Yinglong's children for its core, or perhaps a great number of the Yinglong's flock, it would be a diplomatic incident of significant proportions."

"Perhaps Gwen's spirit is a goat with the Lighting attribute. You can surely see how horn-headed she can be." Guo shrugged. "If the Yinglong assaults Hangzhou on behalf of goats, I'll go and negotiate with it myself."

"Oh, I am confident they had quite the misadventure." Liu rapped the table with his nails. "The Anhui commander reported quite the commotion from the mountain. Lotus Peak was storming for days."

"The weather on the mount changes as often as a woman's mood." Guo chortled. "Who's the next carp on the chopping board?"

Liu grunted. "It's true what they say about northerners." Liu turned back to the match. "No tears until you see the coffin, eh?"

"Competing for the House of Liu, hailing from the Five-Lake Alliance, Sui Xì of Suzhou!"

Gwen's third match was against a young man who'd been a part of the heckling crew. She studied the man with Detect Magic as he stepped onto the stage, sensing Abjuration and Conjuration. When Sui caught her eyes, the smug Elementalist's immediate reaction was to send Gwen a cringeworthy wink, then give her a once-over with his beady eyes, like a butcher inspecting a choice cut.

Gwen averted her eyes, fighting the revulsion threatening to overthrow her store of rice wine. Something about the guy made her think of swamps and sewers, and his flirtatious behaviour hardly helped matters.

"Duellists, are you ready?" Magus Ly had taken up his usual residence above the duelling arena.

"Ready!"

"I am ready!"

"BEGIN!"

Gwen cranked her dial to eleven. She wasn't sure if Ariel was a spirit, but the fact remained that Ariel could bend and redirect her Elemental Lightning, something she could use to its full potential. "Flashbang!"

"Wall of Water!"

Her stunning assault was caught by a sudden swell of brown, salty liquid, smothering the explosion before it could fully form.

"Lightning Bolt!"

"Water Shield!"

"Lightning Bolt!"

"Water Armour!"

The wall of water had grown to twice its size by the third exchange, enveloping the right side of the duelling arena. When Gwen's Lightning Bolt struck the fast-moving liquid, the plasma induced a localised explosion of superheated steam, then diffused harmlessly as the electricity grounded itself.

Shit! Gwen readied a shield in case Sui had a counterstrike ready.

"Resist Elements!" The man did not attack.

You're shitting me, she cursed. The bastard's a turtle-specced Abjurer! But she should be glad that the bastard was only tier IV. Higher chants, such as the tier VI Greater Resist Elements, would cut her effective damage by as much as eighty percent.

"Call Lightning! Warding Bolt!" She continued her assault. She wondered how long it would take for the Water Abjurer to OoM or if it was possible to ionise the water to such a degree that her electrical attacks permeated the man's shielding, electrocuting him through this triple-layered defence.

"Water Missiles!" Six slivers of water, each the size of a pilum, were launched from the wall of water. The prick didn't even have to lower his shield or his wall! Gwen fumed. Water Mages had a versatility that few other elements could match.

"Shield!" The half-hearted barrage clattered harmlessly against her barrier.

Water Mages had woeful damage potential until they could command the volume and degree Richard had obtained with the help of his Undine Spirit. Speaking of her cousin, Gwen realised that Sui was what Richard aimed to be—a Utility-Shield Mage whose versatility could suit a multitude of roles within a party.

"Lightning Bolt!"

ZAP—PAKI—CRACK!

A second and third blast of ionised electricity struck the Wall of Water, evoking a profusion of Lichtenberg figures in vivid cobalt. Before her charged particles could spread, they quickly circulated back into the Elemental Plane.

"Sleet Storm!" The man continued to sling mud.

"Shield!" Gwen formed a semi-dome barrier above her. Rather than a hailstorm, it was more accurate to say that a localised downpour of bone-chilling water pounded down on her protective barrier. She gnashed her teeth. A turtle-specced Mage indeed!

"Blast BOLT!" She channelled a good chunk of her mana into the continuous blast.

After the initial explosion, her attack reached the shield, but no further.

Gwen cursed.

"Stinking Cloud!" A volley of brackish water made for her shield.

Stinking WHAT? Gwen reflexively chose to dodge the cannonballs.

The fetid-smelling water had impressive mass, if nothing else, and Gwen wasn't sure how well her Non-Newtonian Shield dealt with such wide-area impacts. The last thing she wanted was to be drenched by an attack with the prefix "stinking".

"Dimension Door!" When she landed again, her priceless shoes splashed into algae-filled, odious liquid puddles, foul enough to turn her stomach. Her sinus first wrinkled, then wilted, assaulted by what could only be the refined fart of an ageing dog mixed with week-old prawn.

Was the man attempting victory by stench? His command of the "water" elements was nothing she had ever seen before. Usually, Water Mages conjured crystal-clear water from the Elemental Plane. On the other hand, Sui appeared to draw his power from the local storm drain.

GOD! MY SHOES! Gwen's mind rioted. They were self-cleaning, but GOD, the Hermès were peep-toes! And the water was getting in between her piggy-wiggies! They were violating her sole!

Just as she was considering whether feeding Ariel a mote of Almudj's Essence would kill Sui outright, her opponent made his move. "Murk Ghosts!"

The puddle of water, now trapped within her semi-dome shield, suddenly came to life. Forming into dozens of flatworms about three-foot long and about two inches wide. Due to the muffling effect of the Wall of Water and her shield, Gwen had entirely missed the Conjurer's invocation.

Her Divination Sigil pinged her spine. The warning came too late, for it was immediately answered by the sensation of something squirming about her toes. As one, the semi-translucent flatworms slid up for her unprotected body, plastering their cold and sinuous torsi onto her dress, her unprotected legs, and her feet.

"FU-ARGGH!" The assault was so slimy and disgusting that Gwen instinctively let loose a blood-curdling cry natural to the fairer sex.

"Ah-Nu! Strangle her! Do it now!"

She heard the frantic voice of Sui calling for her blood. The worms tightened their hold.

The physical sensation was like being restrained by silk. The worms were only minutely more powerful than a man, but Gwen's revulsion made her want to quit the world because they stank.

One made for her neck, while another tried to move under her skirt. CHRIST! One of the fucking things just touched her. What kind of fucking magic specialised in this bullshit?

Circulating her Almudj's Essence, she dug her finger into one of the flatworms to try and pry one off her thighs. She removed a length of worm about ten inches long by hand, but the rest of the damned thing split into two.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

One of them reached her neck. It reeks! Her brain was hammering at her body to do something, threatening a union strike over hostile working conditions.

Gwen was reminded of Caliban's screaming, revolted victims. Was karma a bitch, like they said? Was public humiliation what Sui had hoped?

She had to calm down. So what if slimy parasites were trying to dig under her skin? No big deal.

She would take a hot shower later and cry it out under the bed.

Her mind raced.

"Dimension Door!" Gwen displaced herself to the right, allowing her body to be enveloped by electricity.

A few of the worms disintegrated. The rest continued their gleeful molestation.

ARRRGH! The AOE from the short-ranged teleport did not manifest from her skin but as a blast ring around her body. No shit, her brain quaked. If the electric nova came from her body, it would burn away her clothes during manifestation.

"Barrage!"

More foul water came her way.

YOU LITTLE SHIT! Gwen swore internally. To think she would be pushed to this extent by a Turtle Mage. Richard's choice of Conjuration and Abjuration with water was a broken skill set.

Despite her struggling concentration, Gwen managed to shield herself. More flatworms emerged from the displaced water. A slithering worm slid across her thigh, tightening around her calves and forming goosebumps all over her legs.

Gwen's scandalous dress was soaked. Its silk fabric wasn't intended to be worn wet under the best of circumstances. A hush had gone out over the audience, and parents had covered their children's innocent eyes. Lord knew what the fuck the wedding guests were seeing as she stamped and squirmed, tearing out worms and throwing them against the Force Barrier.

She took a deep breath. The words "fuck it" flashed neon-hot across her brain.

"VOID SKIN!" Gwen had wanted to avoid the most obvious solution. She became clad with midnight.

A silken silence descended upon the stage. The dress was gone, consumed by the Void Skin. As for her shoes… Gwen held her breath. The peep-toe platform sandals were untouched. Viva la hermès! her heart sang out. Had the shoes been destroyed, somebody would have been vivisected live on stage.

But in all honesty, she was now in a killing mood. If a temperature gauge existed for how pissed she was, the bulb end would have blown several exchanges ago.

The Void Skin masked her features, but its protection consumed excessive vitality when defending its caster. Her Almudj's Essence protected her mana conduits from manifesting Void, but not from the expenditure.

Tapping into Ayxin's scale, she willed the Draconic Essence into her mana channels. Dragon Fear radiated from her in torrents, blessedly dulled by the Force Barrier protecting the audience.

"Hiiieeeeee!" The excess water displaced about her body suddenly formed into a single pool of collated, murky liquid, then promptly fled for the Wall of Water.

A fucking spirit! Gwen felt a sudden gladness. So it was a spirit and not Sui.

But a flatworm? Who the hell slays flatworms? Those things were harmless bottom-feeders that consumed algae and grime. How many flatworms would a guy need to kill before one dropped a core? How many cores before there was a spirit? Could it be that Sui's clan “raised” flatworms?

If nothing else, she had to admire their tenacity. No wonder the guy gave off a slimy, smarmy, sticky feeling.

But enough of that. She was in a precariously shameful position now.

It was the very same dilemma Alesia had endured—either wear the same elementally attuned uniform day in and day out or risk exposure on the off-chance she had to assume the form of a flame-clad avatar. That, or drop upwards of ten thousand HDMs on outfits imported from European Enchantment Workshops.

A rip-roaring clamour exploded across the observing audience, filling the courtyard with utterances of disbelief and shock. Gwen quickly double-checked her person, ensuring that her Void coverage had sufficiently preserved her modesty.

"She’s a VOID Mage?"

"Dual-element!"

"The Songs have a dual-quasi-Elementalist?"

"What the hell are the Lius doing?"

"I don't think she's wea—"

"Since when did Fudan have a Void-caster?!"

"That's the one? Who'd have thought it was a Song?"

Had she not earlier used a Void Shield? It must be the Flashbang, Gwen realised. With the amount of power she had put into it, the whole courtyard would have been blinded. Furthermore, she had immediately dispelled the Void Shield as the tenebrous membrane blocked LOS.

Her Dragon Fear had worn thin. While she had taken the liberty to attune to her squid-ink attire, her opponent had taken the same opportunity to meditate.

Her opponent was a Turtle, and Lulan had already shown her the universal weakness of Water Mages. If Richard couldn't pressurise the flow of his Water Shield enough to ward off Lulan's sword strikes, then she needn't worry that Sui could ward off her Caliban strike.

She would have to play it by ear.

"CALIBAN!" Gwen picked a point somewhere behind the Wall of Water. "Anything but Stag."

"Watery Tendrils!"

Gwen knew better than to let Sui's crushing manifestation mug her person. The Void Skin would absorb water like crazy and tank her vitality. She expertly Dimension Doored out of the tendril's range, sundering the brackish appendages with a burst of electricity.

Meanwhile, her Caliban sneak attack became offset by a clamorous burst of horror from the audience, screeching at the sight of her Lovecraftian Familiar. Sui turned, took one look at the twisted fiend, suppressed a gag, and then commanded a dozen tendrils to intercept the obsidian beast.

Among cries of “Void Beast!” and “Mao!”, Sui's Flatworm Spirit enveloped Caliban in a watery cocoon, lifting it from the floor and suspending it in mid-air. Gwen recognised the spell as Watery Prison, one of Richard's favourite ways to abuse Lea's Affinity.

"SHAA!" Caliban's empathic link informed her that it wished to transform.

"Do it!"

Caliban still had a portion of vitality from its consumption of a dozen Draconic Deer, giant carps, belligerent goats, and Merfolks. Unlike Gwen herself, its abilities did not require an excessive quantity of life force, at least not yet.

"Use your reserves," Gwen mentally urged her Familiar, praying that Caliban understood her meaning. During their poaching adventure, Caliban had grown gluttonous thanks to the abundance of biomass.

Caliban’s carapace split. Its size ballooned. The watery prison made by the Flatworm Spirit burst like a ripe sausage as Caliban leapt.

A fresh wave of antipathy visibly spread through the audience. The Force Barriers hindered the aura of vertigo. However, it couldn't shelter their eyes from the aberrant form of a serpentine carp creature with two pink-purple tentacles for whiskers, possessing no face, but a two-foot-wide disk of teeth in the guise of a lamprey's mouth.

Caliban carp slithered through the water.

"Mao!"

"Bleurgh!"

"Dreadful! HORRIBLE SIGHT!"

"I YIELD! I YIE—!” Sui raised both hands.

The moment Caliban crashed into Sui's shield and its corrosive, Void-tinged slime penetrated his water barrier. If they had kept fighting, not even Gwen couldn’t fully control what would have happened upon Caliban reached her opponent.

But surrendering was one thing. Stopping Caliban was another. Gwen's Familiar balled into the Water Mage with the force of an out-of-control, hydroplaning mini-van.

Half a second later, a Wall of Force was erected. Sui struck the opposite wall before sliding into the floor like a sack of half-empty potatoes.

The Wall of Water was the first to dissipate. Then the Water Armour. Then the shield.

Were it not for the fact that the Water-Abjurer had three layers of protection, Gwen was sure Sui would be lamenting the absent half of his upper body.

With the conjured water suddenly dissipating, Caliban fell to the floor. After a resounding splat! it began to writhe like a landed eel, splashing its grey goo all over, sizzling the Force Barrer with its void-tinged slime.

"VICTOR—GWEN SONG!" Magus Ly finally announced the result.

Gwen leapt from the platform before the crowd could recover. As a distraction, she left Caliban gloating over the terrified young man.

"Shaa-shaa!" Caliban began to sing.

The crowd went wild with cries of “Mao!” and “Disgusting!”

“That's not edible, is it?”

“Why doesn't it have a face?”

"Petra! Mina! Peaches!" Gwen had bigger fish to fry.

"On it!"

"I got you covered!"

"I CAN SEE YOUR—"

Petra materialised an oversized robe. Mina likewise had a towel ready to wrap around her cousin. Gwen slid out of her Void Skin and straight into the awaiting attires before activating her next spell.

Petra kicked Tao aside.

"Nice save. Dimension Door!" Gwen was gone in a burst of silvery Conjuration. A scream came from the women's bathroom. The water closet wasn't as unoccupied as Gwen had hoped. A moment later, a terrified guest who had been inside exited, pants around her ankles. As a private residence, the guest bathrooms did not possess cubicles.

"Sorry!" Gwen's muffled voice was barely audible above the din.

On the elevated platform, Caliban de-materialised with a final “Shaa!”

Watching the girls falling about in their celebratory joviality, Guo tempered the cadence of his breathing. When the worm spirit had almost taken his granddaughter, his heart had skipped a beat. However, his silent outbreak of arrhythmia was nothing compared to his opponent's wild and buckling ride.

When Sui had managed to ambush Gwen, Liu had grinned. When Gwen had panicked, the secretary had chuckled, revealing his teeth.

When Caliban had appeared, Liu half-stood, then sat, groaning.

The man's amateurish display was beginning to grate on what little patience the Chair of the Confidential Communications Committee had left.

"A close match," Guo stated mildly.

"Excuse me." Liu rose from his seat.

"Take your time. Gwen's changing outfits."

From his body language, Guo could see that the secretary was ready to double down on his wager. The next match was likely going to be the last. The Lius had to demonstrate a show of force or else they would lose face and influence. A list of potential candidates scrolled through Guo's head. A few worried him, but they were either too senior or already deployed at the Front.

Klavdiya approached her husband as Patriarch Liu made for the east wing. "Guo, perhaps this is enough. Gwen—"

"Gwen will be fine," Guo replied with confidence. "The reputation and fame she gained will contribute to her IIUC selection. She has little to lose besides her pride, but we have staked much."

"I am worried."

"Worry not." Guo patted her hand. "You're here, aren't you? She'll be fine."

"We'll owe her so much after tonight."

"That we will. Next year, assuming Gwen applies, I will call in a favour from the Central Education Committee. Magister Guang owes me for the Nantong incident back in ninety-three."

Guo waited a moment, then relayed the main reason for his changed opinion of the girl. "Look, there's something else. Jun told me that he wanted Gwen to inherit his half of the amulet, if and when the time comes."

"That's…" His wife searched the crowd for her absent sons. Not finding either of them, she sighed.

Guo rapped his knuckles on the wooden chair, warding off the portentous evil that had escaped his lips. "I can give her anything, but not that. Jun is too close to the girl. Even knowing the dilemma, he chose her."

His wife’s mind was still on their children. "Ah-Jun is too willful," she declared with a wounded voice. "I don't know if Gwen truly needs the amulet, but if the time comes—"

"One can only hope Jun changes his mind or that Gwen overcomes the need," Guo interrupted, ruminating on thoughts his wife could never genuinely know.

There were good reasons why Gwen could never inherit. Indeed, if a girl heir should learn the secret rites of utilising the amulet, would she teach it to her daughter, her daughter's daughter? Would that daughter possess the last name Song? More importantly, what happens when a mother knew their child needed the Songs' Necromantic secret for her kids to live?

What happened when more than two drought-cursed children possessed the means to use the amulet, but only two halves could be shared? Which branch would live and which would wither? Would a father or mother risk all to save their child, even if it meant the murdering of kith and kin?

Could Gwen watch Qīn and Hai's future child die in slow agony, drained by the Negative Energy in their body?

Perhaps she could. Maybe she could not. Void, Lightning, Draconic Essence, egotism, pride and a desperate desire for validation; the internal forces driving the girl forward were powerful indeed.

For now, all Guo could do was petition the ancestors with an earnest wish. "Please let Hai's child be mundane." Or else calamity would befall the House of Song.

Chapter thirty-six

Stick in the Mud

“Wonsoo," Secretary Liu called for his great-nephew.

"Grand-Uncle," came a reply from the dim interior of a large bed chamber.

The low voice issued forth from a face with an unkempt beard blanketing the speaker's mouth and chin. Likewise, although the man was in silk robes, his lounging on the divan and the bedraggled state of his undress affirmed his undutiful slovenliness.

"Light!" Sectary Liu illuminated the room. To his displeasure, the once pristine studio was a mess of discarded clothing. Feeling a throbbing in his temples, the secretary regarded his nephew.

Wonsoo Liu was a prodigy—the product of purposeful lineage. Unlike the clans, the Su-Hang Houses did not possess the bloodline diversity to preserve Elemental Affinity safely. As such, they drew their talents from a pool of local aristocrats, with many descending from the dynastic houses banished to the Frontier by the CCP after the Cultural Revolution. They had been scholar-bureaucrats in the age before the Communists had reforged the social strata of China, possessing enormous ambitions for returning to a period when the Confucian gentry had held dominion over everyone from the lowest farmer to the child emperor.

Today, theirs was a common enough narrative. Dispossessed gentry, such as the Lius, existed throughout China and its territories. For the scholar-bureaucrats, the European Spellcraft Revolution had been a disaster of existential proportions. Within two decades, their monopoly on the pedagogy of magic, the source of their influence and the ladder that elevated them above the masses, had been pulled out from under them.

First came the peasant rebellions. Then came the Communist Revolution. After that, the threat of the undead.

Then a new status quo descended. New China did not need the old gentry, for the CCP elevated hundreds of thousands of Mages from NoM stock. The new state desired quantity to fill its administrative, manufacturing, territorial, and military ambitions, not prodigies.

But that didn't stop the scholar-gentry, who had mastered patience, subservience, and subversion for two millennia. When the Song Dynasty had fallen, they went on to serve the Centaur Horse Lords. When the Ming Emperor had wiped out the Mongol demi-humans, the gentry had immediately prostrated before the new world order. When the Manchurian Tribesmen had taken the heavenly throne from the decrepit bloodline of the Mings, they’d ingratiated themselves into the new dynastic government. With the CCP, it would be no different. What the scholar-gentry possessed was knowledge to rule, to keep the proletariat dumb and pliable, and to ingratiate themselves as the bureaucratic sword arm of those sitting on society's apex.

In time, they’d forged alliances, controlled government sectors, and sent their feelers into the CCP and the PLA, into the universities, the manufactoriums and the military tribunals.

That and the gentry had refined their Spellcraft and bloodlines.

Wonsoo was the product of that particular ambition. A para-elemental Mud-Mage—a rare existence among rare existences. A Conjurer and Abjurer, trained from birth by the best instructors, fed more precious Wildland floral and fauna than most NoMs had eaten rice bowls.

At only twenty-seven, Wonsoo had already made a name for himself on the Northern Front. A young man whose future was immeasurable and restrained only by time, it was with serendipity that he was even in Hangzhou. After a Purge mission had gone awry, he had been given time for rest and relaxation. Paranoid that the PLA would send his nephew toward riskier missions, Liu requested that Wonsoo "sow his wild oats" before setting off again.

Had the Song girl been pliable and obedient, Liu would have entertained the notion of setting up the two for what could potentially be an incredibly potent union. If the girl could give birth to three or four children, there were bound to be quasi or para-elemental talents among that number. But Guo had refused his best efforts at an inter-house alliance, and now Liu must demonstrate to the old dog that the millennia-old gentry of Jiangnan wasn't just for show.

It was almost sickening how talented the man's gweilo granddaughter was, especially considering the common stock from which she’d emerged. The Songs were an old house, but they weren't scholars or bureaucrats. In Liu's esteemed opinion, the House of Song, originating from Hubei, was akin to peasants. Peasants elevated by the Communists. The very thought was an insult.

"You have been watching the match, yes?"

Wonsoo nodded.

"What do you think of the girl?"

"A bother," Wonsoo confessed readily. "That Familiar of hers is bad news. Mao knows what other forms it can shift into."

"Can you do it, though?"

Wonsoo grunted. "Grand-Uncle, I don't mean to be forward, but I am a lieutenant in the PLA's Elite Northern eleventh Battalion and I'll be promoted to captain by the end of the year. Do you think I should be duelling girls too young for me to date?"

Liu's jaws stiffened. "Why, you want to date the girl?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"She's a lovely thing."

"Stop it."

"I've sent you a few promising candidates, didn't I? Where are the girls?"

"Sent them home." Wonsoo shrugged his shoulders. "I did my duty, if you must know. Now I am trying to get some sleep. Between that and the wedding, I've had a busy week."

"Your laziness is legendary," Liu chided his nephew. As a Mud Mage, slothfulness was par for the course. "Those girls are counting on you. A child with your talent would set them up for life."

"Being a father is a bother as well," Wonsoo lamented.

Liu hid his growing irritation. "I am out of options here, Ah-Won. Tell me one thing, can you beat the girl or not?" he asked the only question that mattered. "For the house, for Jiangnan, I need the Songs under my thumb."

"Yes." Wonsoo yawned.

"Good. Also, use this for the Familiar." Liu passed Wonsoo a spell scroll.

"This is?"

"A tier VII Banishment—it'll deal with her Familiar."

"I don't need it." Wonsoo pushed the scroll aside. "Too much bother."

"You will." Liu threw the scroll at his nephew's chest. "Activate it before the match. It's got a trigger algorithm built in. You're an Abjurer. No one would notice."

Wonsoo took a deep breath before exhaling deliberately. "Whatever you say, Grand-Uncle."

"The girl can be yours, if you prevail. I can make it happen," Liu promised.

Wonsoo regarded the clan's patriarch. "Uncle, as a military man, I am both revolted and impressed by your pragmatism. I must also remind you that you have dragged me to marriage meetings before this. Now you want me to beat down a lovely girl and humiliate her. These reasons are not why I am here."

"Finish this, and you can return to your beloved base," Liu declared.

His nephew appeared to be dozing off.

"Pay attention!" Liu slapped Wonsoo's knees. "I am counting on you, Ah-Won."

Gwen emerged from the ladies' room wearing her old skin suit from her Singapore trip, overlaid with cargo shorts and a tee. For her next match, she wasn't going to take the chance that Void Skin was off the menu and risk unnecessary exposure again.

Murmurs of disappointment and disapproval rose from the crowd when she returned fully clad from neck to toe. She resisted the urge to give the wedding guests the bird.

"Okay, I am ready to rock." She stretched out her hammies and calves, flexing the stiff leather of her combat boots. Her jungle set was elementally attuned, though the build quality was strictly frontier. Her hair had been tied into a thick ponytail, double knotted to avoid whipping her own eyes should the combat require acrobatic manoeuvres.

From across the courtyard, Liu returned with his next combatant.

"That's a 'young' Mage, is it?" Gwen looked over at Petra

"He looks old, not from our generation." Petra shook her head.

"Mina, any ideas?"

Her cousin, who knew everyone, did not.

The new guy appeared as though possessed by the spirit of The Dude from The Big Lebowski, only with dark hair and an Asian face. He had a stooped posture and yawned as he walked. Everything about him seemed tired and devoid of life. Even the man's hair lacked vitality, plastering his face in oily, disorderly locks.

Am I going to fight a hobo now?

The secretary conversed with Magus Ly, who glanced up at the “young man” with an expression of surprise.

"Our new and final challenger!" Ly returned to the arena before announcing the next duel. "From the House of Liu, Magus Wonsoo Liu."

"Gwen." A Message spell from Guo blossomed beside her ear. "You'll need to use every trick for this one. Wonsoo is an Abjurer and a Conjurer who uses mud. It's a terrible Elemental matchup for you. Please don't stay in one spot for too long, and don’t let him trap you. Remain mobile at all times. All I can tell you is that his signature move is entrapment magic, not unlike Watery Tomb, but virtually impossible to escape. He doesn't have a spirit, but his Affinity is at least a five."

Gwen nodded in her grandfather's direction before turning her attention toward this unassuming opponent.

As Wonsoo wandered into the arena, the crowd began to protest.

"How is this a fair fight?"

"Wonsoo's a captain now, isn't he?"

"No, he's still a lieutenant."

"Didn't Wonsoo go to the Northern Front?"

"Still, for him to be back now, the patriarch sure put some thought into this."

Petra took Gwen by the arm. "Mud is a bad matchup for you," Petra said. "However, Mud Mages are weakest during the first few spell exchanges. The longer you fight, the worse it will be."

"I can intimidate dat bitch if yo like," Tao proposed, scratching his head. "If he is a good Abjurer, u gonna be in for a long grind, Gwen."

"I concur. You should alpha-strike," Petra insisted. "Don't stop until you're spell-fatigued or OOM, or both. That's how I would do it. If the guy's capable of continuing after that—forfeit."

Gwen surmised the situation and found herself in agreement with her family. She was running tier VI Lightning. She had a VMI of over two hundred.

And she had a trump card as well. Two of them. Caliban's Horror Stag form and Ariel's Barbanginy, which she dared not use for two reasons. One, she would like to save it for a life or death situation like Golos, and two, she had no idea what Barbanginy plus tier VI Affinity would do. Could Ariel even control something at that level of power? What if her AOE shattered the portable Force Barriers and maimed the wedding guests?

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. "All right, wish me luck."

"You won't need it!" Mina called out with confidence.

Petra thumbed Gwen’s storage ring and took account of her spells. "I've got healing spells from Babulya." Her cousin reminded her.

"OI! YOU!" Tao called out to her opponent. "DICK-SOO! YOU KNOW WHO MY DAD IS? LET ME TELL YOU MANG, YOU—OW! Damn it, Mina. I am shit-talking here!"

"Zip it, Peaches! Gwen will be fine."

For the fourth time, Gwen stepped into the duelling box. His opponent stood a little shorter than she did. His stance, however, suggested he was completely relaxed. If anything, the man reminded Gwen of someone browsing the university's canteen menu.

"Look, no hard feelings." Wonsoo caught Gwen's attention with a wave of his hand. "You're young; life will have lots of other opportunities."

"I'll be the judge of that," Gwen riposted tartly. "Do your worst."

"I always do my worst." The man appeared amused by her enthusiasm. "Let me guess—you're the valedictorian who always does her best?"

Gwen's temple throbbed. It would appear that she and Wonsoo were indeed poorly matched.

"BEGIN!"

Magus Ly wasted no time in getting the show on the road.

"Dimension Door!" Gwen decided to take Petra's advice to heart. She would close in with an AOE, then dance around her opponent. An offensive barrage from start to finish.

"Shield!" The Mud Mage's reaction, unlike his languished manner, was instantaneous.

Gwen appeared beside the Abjurer, triggering a burst of tenebrous ink. Her Void matter splashed onto the Mud Mage's barrier, though her consumptive motes of mana corroded no more than an inch of Wonsoo's considerably impervious semi-dome surface.

"Void Bolt!"

HISS!

To her surprise, the impact failed to penetrate the weakened barrier. Wonsoo, too, appeared to be surprised by Gwen's offensive potential.

“Terracotta Guardians!” Two semi-opaque chunks of mana broke off from his enormous, fractured shielding.

Gwen didn't need Divination to know she had underestimated the Mud Mage's defence. "Dimension Door!"

She reappeared to the man's right, about five meters away. Her lightning burst caught one of the golem things as it emerged. "Lightning Bolt!"

A line of arm-thick lightning surged across all three targets, with Wonsoo caught in the middle. The foremost guardian exploded, while the further one escaped with missing limbs.

"Mud Slide!"

"Dimension Door!" Gwen escaped the conic, AOE barrage. She revved up an Elemental Sphere.

"Marching Mud!" The viscous mud mana disbursed by her magic began to collate. Be it the mud from his shield, his Sleet Storm, or his summoned guardians, they all began to form into vaguely shaped humanoid elementals.

A shot of adrenaline straightened Gwen's spine. SHIT. To think her opponent combined the resilience of an Earthen Mage with the regenerative versatility of a Water Mage. "Elemental Sphere!" With tier VI Affinity, her imploding-then-exploding sphere encompassed the entirety of the second half of the duelling area.

"Caliban!" Before the secondary explosion began, Gwen summoned her nether worm to her side. As her serpent materialised, her spell reached its second stage—a radial burst in the form of an electric nova. The resulting energy was enough to destroy most of the terracotta soldiers, though Wonsoo's mud had spread everywhere, plastering every surface.

Fudgesickles! Gwen felt the engendering of a terrible premonition. The man's Mud Shield smoked with tears and rips, but ripples of fresh elemental mud instantly replaced the damaged exterior. Furthermore, when Wonsoo exchanged the volume-metric ratio of water and dirt, it became translucent.

Clap. Clap. Clap. "Not bad." Wonsoo grinned, striking his palms in appreciation. "You're a greater prodigy than me, that's for sure."

Was the man mocking her?

"You're not too shabby yourself," Gwen retorted. "CALIBAN!"

"SCREEEEE!"

Caliban sped toward the Mud Mage as though launched from a catapult, transforming halfway into its spider form. Gwen figured that since the man's shield was unusually resilient, Caliban would perform best if it harassed the guy while she loaded up on buffs and turret spells to up her damage per spell exchange.

"Barrage!" More conjured balls of semi-translucent slime flew her way.

Weary of what had occurred with the Water Mage, Gwen immediately erected her semi-dome shield. The mud splattered all over, obscuring her line of sight.

Meanwhile, Caliban raked the Mud Mage's Shield with a flurry of sword strikes from its forelimbs. "Mao, what a fantastic beastie." Wonsoo whistled. "Almost like a Shambling Horror crossed with an Arachne."

"Warding Bolt! Call Lightning!" Gwen, meanwhile, loaded up on persistent Conjuration attack spells. For all his resilience, the Mud Mage appeared to cast one or two spells every time she managed three or four. If so, the man must be used to opponents going OOM long before penetrating his defences. Hoping to test Wonsoo's limits, she began a chant for Ball Lightning, simultaneously giving Caliban a mental order to play interference until her incantation finished.

The Mud-Mage took a step backwards. Is he bracing for impact? Gwen pondered.

"Jump!" To her surprise, Wonsoo utilised a low-tier Transmutation spell.

The man launched into the air like a human cannonball, catching Caliban by surprise as he balled into her creature, Mud Shield and all. "Adhesion!"

Gwen almost lost her spell when Caliban slammed into the soft and wobbly shield like a cockroach caught in a sticky trap. Her Familiar squirmed and screeched, crying out "Shaa!" as it attempted to free itself.

Had only three first-tier spells disabled Caliban? Gwen felt her confidence falter. The versatility of the Mud Mage was ludicrous. Shield. Jump. Adhere.

To think someone could defeat her thing by using a human-sized cockroach trap. John Carpenter would be spewing.

Gwen was four incantations from finishing her Ball Lighting when Wonsoo turned his attention toward her. "Jump!"

The Mud Mage charged her, using Caliban's stuck body as a battering ram.

"YOU'RE SHITTING ME!" Gwen swore. She had no time to finish the spell; even if she did, Caliban would be the one tanking her explosions. "Dimension Door!"

With another Jump, Wonsoo reached her within a second or so. Confined within the arena, Gwen was incapable of using the one-hundred-meter-plus range she had exploited in her fight with Golos. "Caliban!"

Her fiendish Familiar turned back into its serpentine form, secreting grey goo all over its obsidian carapace to free itself from the adhesive shield.

She was slipping up. Gwen knew this and yet had little recourse. Her reactive tactics painted her as a monster hunter, while her reactions were unused to catching Mages off-guard. Unlike magical creatures, a Mage duel was akin to a game of Go—one had to plan three moves, where no action was performed solely for the act alone.

"Barrage!"

Gwen resumed a defensive stance, warding off the globs with her Non-Newtonian shield. “Lightning Bolt!” Her lightning arc obliterated a few mud clumps, though the rest splattered over her shield.

"Adhere!" What remained of the sticky mud Gwen had teleported into suddenly grew liquid and slime-like, glueing her feet to the floor.

"Void Skin!" Gwen fumed she had to use such a dangerously double-edged spell so soon. The sticky slime fell away, sizzling as her vitality-draining body armour absorbed the offensive substance. Her t-shirt and shorts disappeared, but at least she had her skin suit.

Caliban harassed Wonsoo with a few tentacles, punching small holes in the man's semi-liquid shield even as they self-replenished. But the momentary gap created by Caliban gave Gwen an idea.

Did Mud Shields have a convenient crack through which Caliban could slither? She could get her Familiar to burrow downwards in the wild, but they were surrounded by Force Barriers while in the arena. Furthermore, from what she could discern, the man had restrained himself to low-tier spells while she had been nuking the guy with tier III Lightning Bolts and above. Perhaps the man was trying to disgrace her as she had the Fire and Air Mage, but if they kept going like this, even with her massive mana pool, she would be OOM before long.

Crack! Thunk!

"Lightning Bolt!"

Splat!

Gwen's Warding Bolt, Call Storm, and Lightning Bolt barraged Wonsoo's Shield again, turning a portion of it opaque before the Mud Mage allowed it to fall from his barrier. The process reminded Gwen of reactive tank armour, only these grew back.

"Ready to give up?" the man called out from across the room. "There's no shame in it. We're not well-matched, and I've got almost a decade on you. Don't push yourself too hard. Old men talk and drink their tea while young folks like us are given the butcher cleaver to carve each other up."

"Lightning Bolt!" Another chunk of shielding fell away from Wonsoo's shield. Gwen felt her frustration buzzing like a hive of angry bees.

"Almost forgot about that. You high-Affinity Lightning Mages, always tripping up on your ego." Wonsoo sighed. "Barrage!"

More mud built up around Gwen's Shield, hinting at more dire circumstances. Wonsoo's accurate assessment of her mood pissed her off. She suspected the hobo-looking prick was trying to undermine her determination. If so, all Wonsoo had achieved was piling fuel on her bushfire.

It was time to up the ante.

She recalled what Alesia had once told her—if your opponent's defence appeared impervious, change gears. She could target the environment, their defence spell, and do whatever was necessary to expose a chink in the armour. An opportunity always presented itself, for no such thing as a perfect defence existed, only insufficiently applied offence. As an anecdote, her sister-in-craft professed to never Fireball a Mermen Water Priest when collapsing a building on top of them would do just fine.

As for her immediate dilemma…

Her Warding Bolt and Call Storm fired every other interval, tinging her mana channels before they activated. The man's shield was reactive, meaning there was a play she could make if she were willing to put herself at risk.

"Caliban," Gwen mentally commanded her Familiar. "Slip in when you get the chance."

"Shaaa!"

CRACK! BOOM! Her Conjuration spells fired their payload.

"Barrage!" Wonsoo was building the density of Mud mana around her, readying a finisher. According to her grandfather, it was likely an entombment-style AOE.

Gwen timed her assault for the split-second the Mud Mage was distracted by her bolts. "Elemental Sphere!" Her vitality dropped like a stone.

A blob of tenebrous darkness appeared just behind the semi-opaque mud clumps, forming a phenomenon akin to a micro-blackhole against Wonsoo's shield. Having expected another Lightning blast, Wonsoo's eyes narrowed just before the dark dot imploded, rapidly expanding into an all-consuming ball of jet-black, swirling ink.

"Caliban!" Caliban leapt into the void created by the exploding sphere.

Whomp!

The secondary explosion triggered. A Void-nova rang out, a dark disk splashing against the sides of the Force Barrier.

As one, the audience retreated.

The wedding guests fell atop one another to find some cover. The Force Barriers held, but the visual impact of the attack amplified its metaphysical stimuli.

Secretary Liu shot up from his chair. "Guo! Y-you've been keeping something of this magnitude from the PLA?"

Guo sipped his cold tea, frowned, and motioned for a servant to refill it. The pale-faced servant obliged with a trembling hand.

Liu recalled a vid-cast attached to the report he had received—particularly the effects of the Void mana—a dark lightning that consumed rather than electrified the target. But the Fungs’ intelligence had mentioned nothing of the fact that Void could be used with signature spells such as Elemental Sphere, nor how absurdly devastating the attack could be.

Liu's back became drenched with cold sweat. Nothing better happen to Wonsoo, or else there would be blood.

Elevated on the stage, the tenebrous burst of ink faded.

A clay semi-dome shield remained in the duelling arena. Wonsoo Liu was presumably inside, safe from the Void-empowered Elemental Sphere.

"Where's the Familiar?" a spectator's voice broke through the silence. "The Void Beast, I mean."

A hundred pairs of horrified eyes converged on the muddy dome.

SUCCESS! Gwen mentally punched the air as Caliban slipped between the gap that had been created. As she had suspected, the self-replenishing Mud Shield had the same problem as Richard's Shield of Water—it could be disrupted when an equal or greater force was applied. Of course, she didn't have the force, but she could “disappear” enough of the shield for Caliban to pierce it. Cloaked with its Void-tinged goo and filled with Void matter, Caliban should be impervious to the Void blast generated by her spell.

As the orb erupted, she could sense Caliban striking the raw mana below the elemental ooze. She held her breath, anticipating failure—then confirmation arrived from her Mongolian Deathworm.

"Do it now!" Gwen willed Caliban to intimidate the Mud Mage, maybe take a nip out of the man if he refused to yield, though her Familiar should take care that its blow wasn't fatal.

Caliban landed with a plop, faced its opponent—then shifted into its centipede form. Gotcha! Gwen grinned smugly, happy that her spontaneous plan superseded her expectations.

Then she stumbled. There was no warning from her Divination Sigil.

Whatever happened, it wasn't targeted at her. From standing tall, she was suddenly freefalling.

It took Gwen a split second to catch herself, dropping to one knee as the feedback of losing her Familiar washed over her.

Caliban was gone—banished by a counterspell, back into its pocket dimension, incapable of re-materialising anywhere between an hour to a day, depending on the tier of the expulsion.

A forced unsummon had only happened once before in all the time Gwen had fought other Mages. When Xiao Huyi ambushed Petra and herself in the Hengsha Dungeon, the young Master had used some clanner gobbledygook to send Caliban packing.

The jubilation of victory bled from Gwen's systems as though Wonsoo had opened a vein. The crowd began to clamour in confusion as she spat out a mouthful of Maotai-infused bile.

Thankfully, the expulsion cleared her head. The Mud Shield collapsed.

A guilty-looking Wonsoo stood in front of her. "Sorry." The Mud Magus's chest rose and fell. "That caught me by surprise."

Gwen picked herself from the floor, her bosom likewise heaving.

"So, call it a tie?" The man scratched his head. "You can't win, and I'd feel guilty if I won now."

Is he taunting mer? Gwen wondered if the man was as thick as molasses. Why hadn't Wonsoo taken the opportunity of her disorientation to floor her? Was it to keep her on the back foot?

A truce? Or a bluff?

Either way, she couldn't quit with a straight flush in her left hand. "We continue," Gwen declared.

Wonsoo scowled, clearly irritated. Her opponent looked around the arena, noted the lead-coloured face of his patriarch, then turned back toward the teenage girl standing thirty feet away. "You're not making this easy on yourself." The man's voice took on a condescending tone.

"Well, tough luck. Life is hard," Gwen riposted with a catty twang.

The Mud Mage snorted. "Very well, ladies first. That's how you westerners do it, right?"

Gwen took no heed of the Magus's mockery. She had another Familiar and another means of breaking through the man's barrier. "Warding Bolt! Call Storm!"

"Mud Amour!" The Mud Mage became encased in semi-opaque globs of mana that flowed around his body, levitating him into the air. From her point of view, it seemed as though the man had become suspended in a vaguely humanoid ooze.

Crack!

"Lightning Bolt!'

THUNK!

Three chunks of the Mage's liquid erupted, and the resultant electricity grounded itself, ionising the barriers on the floor.

The man finished his invocation. "March of the Terracotta!"

By now, the room had been thoroughly splattered by the translucent mud. To Gwen's dismay, the clumps of the stuff which had formed here and there now transformed into little mud men. The impromptu army then sprang from the floor and began to converge on her position. When two or more mud men met, they formed into slightly larger variations that reminded Gwen of claymation.

"Dimension Door!" Her vitality was holding up, but Gwen had to use her health sparingly. The AOE Void-burst from her short-range Teleportation spell cleared the space where she landed, affording Gwen a renewed appreciation for the signature spell her Master had left her.

"Ariel!"

"EE—ee!" Gwen summoned her second Familiar. Fighting while partnered with her Familiars was now second nature to her, so much so that the moment Caliban had been banished, she’d felt incomplete, frustrated, and furious. It was as though she had been made to fight with an arm tied behind her back.

A meter above her head, Ariel materialised, though not in the way she'd expected. Where the Marten usually performed a twist before landing with a flourish, it emerged directly in mid-air.

A strange hush fell over her audience, including the Mud Mage.

"Eeee?" Her Familiar haughtily surveyed its surroundings, whipping its bushy, fan-like tail. Upon its head were two elongated stag horns, branching out before spiralling into sharp tips. Its mongoose face had also elongated, taking on a strange hybrid appearance that was neither mammalian nor Draconic but something in-between. Two tendril feelers struck out from where its whiskers used to be in the guise of a carp or a catfish, and Ariel’s new pale-blue fur shimmered with a strange pattern that resembled fish scales. Around its neck grew its old pure-white Marten coat, giving it a faux mane.

Most importantly, its front paws were two maned hooves, while its back legs were predatory claws from its original body.

“Is that a Kirin?” a voice in the crowd whispered audibly.

A murmur radiated through the crowd.

“Horn of a stag, the scale of carp, the beard of a catfish, hooves and a fish’s tail with a lion’s mane.”

"Well, if it looks like a Kirin, sounds like—"

"EEEE! EEEee!" Ariel turned its handsome, whiskered jowl toward Gwen, demanding validation. Gwen was enraptured with equal surprise and suspense. She knew Ariel wasn't a Kirin. She would bloody well know if her Marten was a Kirin. It was a Lightning Mongoose that had eaten an Eland antelope's core, a Draconic Stag's core, and a Draconic Carp's core. Ariel had taken on some faux-Kirin traits, sure, but they were superficial, possessing no ability. A true Kirin, according to her research, could Command Weather, Plane-Shift, Shape-Shift, use Telepathy and Illusion at will, and speak. Her Marten creature was restricted to "EE-ee", face nuzzling, and shooting Lightning.

"Hear that cry?" a voice ratified the crowd's presupposition with complete incompetence. "A true Kirin neighs like a horse. This is a young Kirin, so it goes 'Eeeee.'"

Gwen felt like she should thank the bullshitter personally.

"Leader's ghost, that's amazing."

"Holy shit, the girl killed a Kirin and absorbed its core?"

"Maybe she found a young one."

"Maybe she's a Mythic Whisperer."

"Most people would be dead."

"They eat human flesh, you know, like Dragons."

"An adult Kirin could obliterate Hangzhou by itself."

"Oh, Mao…"

When she looked to her grandfather, she saw Liu addressing Guo with his mouth open, all composure thrown to the five winds. The regional administrator was visibly trembling.

"Are you insane?" her grandfather's foe blurted out. "Your son went and killed a Kirin for your granddaughter?"

Chapter thirty-seven

Curtain Call

Gwen watched as her opponent put up his hands, motioning for her to look instead at her elders. Equally weary and wary, Gwen instructed Ariel to keep an eye on her opponent while she turned to Guo and Liu.

"Ee-ee!" Ariel flittered through the air, swishing its tail and twirling its prehensile whiskers. Pointing its buttocks toward Wonsoo, it wagged its tail tauntingly. Gwen reached out with a hand to stroke the creature's mane, simultaneously materialising a block of raw HDM crystal.

Ariel took the opportunity to fly around its Master in a figure eight, tickling her face. When it passed her outstretched hand, it nipped the crystal gingerly from her fingers and crushed the mana-rich material in its jaws, using the second whisker as a grasping tentacle.

Below, the audience watched, mesmerised.

Besides the livid Secretary Liu, Gwen's grandfather put on a contemplative expression. The appearance of the Kirin had caught him flat-footed as well.

His eyes strained as he divided his attention between Gwen and the Familiar, his irises glowing subtly with Divination, unsure of what to make of their present circumstance.

The Kirin was a mythical creature tied to the Songs’ history. The amulet that his sons shared was said to be crafted from the core of one such being their ancestor had slain. The Analects of Song Rou had stated that due to their progenitor's transgression against the heavens, their family bloodline had been cursed with drought, resulting in male heirs awakening with Salt or Ash, elements that would render them infertile. However, after many years of cultivation, the progenitor uncovered a way to circumvent the affliction by utilising the core of the creature that had cursed his progeny. Consequently, the line survived, growing weaker but persisting, until the family had left Hubei and joined the Cultural Revolution.

But that didn't explain to Guo why Gwen had a Kirin with her. He recalled Jun's debrief; his younger son had informed him that Gwen had bested a Thunder Wyvern in single combat. That knowledge had been the source of Guo's confidence. Not having anticipated Wonsoo, he doubted the Lius had a candidate who could measure up to an impervious Draconic Wyvern capable of obliterating the outer city of Hangzhou.

Jun likewise had not mentioned a Kirin. Assuming uncle and niece had encountered a Kirin, why would they monopolise the knowledge? For one, Guo knew better than anyone that Jun's reputation preceded his ability, that much of his son's legendary competence was attributed to widespread propaganda. Much to his regret, Jun was no Gunther Shultz, and there was no way that a Lightning Mage and an Ash Magus could even begin to harm a Kirin without supporting magic from a Tower.

Was it Gwen, then? Did the girl possess yet more untapped potential? Had his granddaughter's association with Henry Kilroy given her yet more secrets to be unearthed?

If the reports were accurate, Kilroy could have hunted down a Kirin. The man had done no less during the Saurian Sea War and on the Eastern European Front, aided by his Void Sorceress wife and his Dryad Familiar.

Kilroy and Sobel. Gwen and Kilroy.

At any rate, it was improbable for Huangshan to house both a Kirin and a Yinglong. By nature, Dragons were highly territorial and usually hated those of their kind with a passion. There was only one exception to the rule—when one of their kin fell to lesser beings. Retribution was the only banner under which Draconic kindred banded together, forming cabals capable of erasing cities.

What if they subsumed a young spirit? Perhaps Gwen had stolen an egg and somehow Jun managed to hatch it during their Huangshan trip.

Guo found his second hypothesis equally unrealistic. He had begun entertaining a third when Liu's incessant squawking grew to such a pitch that it derailed his train of thought.

"Guo, you're a fool! Do you hear me? Your sons are nothing but troublemakers. I can't believe it. Mao! My poor Qin-Qīn, what have you done to my precious child?"

Guo could read Liu’s thoughts and what he suspected. The mournful secretary regretted inviting the Songs into his house. He regretted letting his daughter near that playboy Hai. He lamented, more than anything, signing his name on the pass that had allowed Jun and Gwen to access the Anhui province. When Internal Security came looking for heads to chop, his name would be penned in red next to the Songs.

Dragons were quick to avenge their kin. What if the Yinglong issued an edict that banished all rain from the region? Would the PLA capitulate, give up Jun and Gwen Song? Or would the PLA follow the Militant Faction's doctrine of no mercy, no negotiation, and directly assault the Yellow Mountain?

What ghastly enterprise had driven Liu so low as to think of allying with the peasant House of Song? What cursed coincidence had tempted him? Now the Lius and the Songs were mutually doomed! No faction mattered when their immediate future involved being mind-read, mind-wiped, and then offered to the Yinglong with less ceremony than a suckling pig on Chinese New Year.

"Guo, say something!" His rival looked like he wanted to grabbed Guo by the collar and rattled down the answer like a pepper shaker.

Abruptly, Guo rose from his seat. "Guo!" Klavidya's Silent Message bloomed beside her husband's ear. "This has to be a mistake. Gwen knows better. Jun knows better. Her Familiar is a mongoose. Look, you can still see part of its original form."

"I am aware of that." Guo gave his wife a reticent expression fraught with cautious confidence. He had suspected that Gwen might bring a calamitous destiny to the house, though this wasn't what he’d been expecting. Not to mention that his wife was right. Jun was too wise to make a mistake of this magnitude. Whatever this was, it originated from Gwen—which meant he could divert their present predicament to Gunther Shultz or perhaps the late Henry Kilroy.

But first, it wouldn't hurt to receive confirmation.

"Gwen…" Guo sent a Silent Message directly to his granddaughter.

"Grandfather!"

"Don't move, and don't look around. Tell me one thing, is Ariel a Kirin?"

"No. Hell no! Ariel just ate some bad cores, that's all."

"Good. I believe you."

"You do? Tell them that I—"

Guo suppressed a smirk. Liu's would be an error that he could use to his advantage.

The wizened old hound of the CCP turned to his counterpart, catching the stench of the man's fear like a Stinking Cloud to his dog nose. "Secretary Liu. Do you forfeit the match?"

"What?"

"If you do, I shall assume all responsibility for the Kirin."

Liu stared at him, gobsmacked by Guo's declaration. "Guo…" The secretary looked caught between hope and despair "Have you lost your mind?"

Gwen's grandfather looked toward the stage.

"You heard Gwen when all of this started, no?" Guo made his face as blank as a piece of paper, an expression that exacerbated his mockery. "It's over, Liu. It was all over the moment Gwen stepped onto that platform. We can still finish the banquet amiably. Do you wish for bad blood that fervently? Are our children not lovers? What would they think?"

Liu's voice caught in his throat dangerously. “Guo. You… our… families would need to work together and pool our connections at a time like this…”

DING!

A Message spell blossomed beside Liu's ear. "Wonsoo?" Guo had not expected Liu’s grand-nephew to Message him now, of all times.

"It's not a Kirin," Wonsoo's voice came across from the duelling area. "This thing's a paper tiger. It looks like a Kirin. And another thing, the girl most definitely got blooded on Huangshan. We're all thinking her Familiar is a Kirin because it's exuding Dragon Fear! That thing's been fed on Draconic flesh!"

At the mention of the idiomatic origami tiger, Liu's face ignited. In a fury, the decretary turned to Guo, his complexion now the scarlet passion of raw pork liver.

"We continue! The match will continue!" Liu said with a petulant intensity, sending out a spray of spittle.

Gwen's grandfather dabbed at a spit spot with a finger, unmoved by Liu's sudden passion.

His opponent tapped the still-open Message.

"HURT HER! Crush the girl! I want the Songs to regret everything! Listen to me, Wonsoo! Do your worst!"

Gwen watched as Wonsoo grumbled under his breath, then looked toward the ceiling with an expression that read I regret everything.

"What's wrong with you?" She sized him up with her eyes.

"Nothing," Wonsoo lamented. He stretched both of his arms, then shook loose his fingers. "Fair warning, I won't be holding back this time."

"The feeling is mutual." Gwen stood with her off-hand resting on her hips. Her other hand stroked Ariel, purring and swimming here and there with adorable swishes of its tail.

"The match will continue!" Magus Ly resumed his position atop the cage.

Wonsoo cracked his neck. "Last offer—we tie, what do you say?"

"Nice try."

"Song mei-mei." The man groaned, referring to her youthful age. "Are you always this difficult?"

"Try me, Big Brother Liu."

The Mage regarded her to see if she was serious. The man sighed when he read that her serious demeanour was entirely genuine.

"Look, I am finishing it with my next spell," he declared. "If you're serious, stop screwing around. Come at me with everything you got."

"Fine!" she retorted.

The two parted.

"BEGIN!"

Wonsoo moved behind his barriers, then began an incantation.

"Ariel, to me." Gwen pulled Ariel closer to her torso. Discreetly, she transferred a flow of Draconic Essence to her fingertips.

"Ee-ee!" Ariel indicated that there was no need. "Eeee! EE!"

"Oh?" Gwen felt only wonder at her creature's newfound ability. She released her Familiar just as Wonsoo began his chant.

There was no need to feed her Familiar because Ariel had just requested her Draconic Essence like Caliban. Having gotten accustomed to Caliban's liberal consumption of her vital force, all she had to do was channel her Draconic Essence toward her Conjuration Sigil for Ariel to subsume the usually inoperable resource.

She quickly glanced at her opponent. Wonsoo had his Mud Shield, Mud Armour, and a shitload of Mud mana stacked here and there. Whatever the Mud Mage had planned, he was confident she couldn't do shit to him.

That would be his mistake.

From the length of his incantation and the mana radiating from his body, Gwen suspected it was at least a tier VI spell, a tier withheld from Gwen until her Spellcraft knowledge had caught up with her Affinity.

"EEEE!" Her Familiar was loaded up and ready to go.

"ARIEL!" Raw lightning-mana flowed from Gwen's Elemental Gate, channelling into Ariel's body, activating the Draconic Essence encircling its centre.

"EE-ee!" Her Kirin Marten expanded to full size. Ariel's neck distended, its mane whipping the air. Long, stag-like limbs spiralled from its stumpy, infantile form, and its fur shone so brightly that Ariel seemed like a descending divine comet.

"LORD KIRIN!" someone cried out in the crowd.

"So she does have a Kirin for a Spirit!"

"Forgive us, Lord Kirin!"

"It is trespass to kill a Kirin!"

Her Dragon Fear, dulled by the Force Barrier, rolled over the audience like an undulating tide. A portion of the guests fell to their knees.

Some wept. Others began to whimper.

"WONSOO!" Patriarch Liu cried out, half-choked with rage. The man’s voice sounded on the verge of a paroxysm, igniting every mote of his mana to make his desire known. "DO IT NOW!"

"Seven Li of Swallowing Earth!" The Mud Mage completed his attack.

Gwen recognised the manifesting phenomena. Her father had used a similar spell! She had seen him use it on Sufina's island. In an instant, Hai had turned an entire twenty-meter radius of his strike zone into a world of sparkling white salt—destroying all hostile flora and fauna in a single strike.

Her Divination tingled. With added urgency, Gwen willed Ariel forward.

"EE-EE!" Ariel swished through the air, then made a beeline for the Mud Mage.

Gwen wasn't sure how potent Wonsoo's AOE would be, nor did she have time to gauge Ariel's new abilities. Whatever Wonsoo's plans, she had to finish it first.

With one word, she sang the snake. "BARBANGINY!"

Ariel's horns blazed, incandescent and viridescent. Inside the humble, mortal realm of Liu's wedding banquet, an emerald-hued celestial object, and Elemental Sphere, entered the Prime Material. A cacophonic CRACK, not unlike Golos at the apex of his insane wrath, washed over the wedding guests with the bone-thrumming intensity of rolling thunder.

But Gwen's wasn't the only spell in motion. Mud wasn't a flashy element.

From above and below and all around, Wonsoo's oppressive, ooze-like mana enclosed her being. Gwen was standing unassailed one moment, then unexpectedly, she was underwater—or more precisely, under a deluge of semi-opaque mud.

The force elevated her globular barrier from the floor, swallowing all light. Within the protective shell of her Non-Newtonian Shield, the undertow of an obscure current tossed her about like a snow globe in a washing machine.

SPAK! Crack!

The weakness of her Non-Newtonian Shield became immediately apparent. The all-encompassing crush of mud rendered her impact-resistant insulation worthless.

Her world went dark.

The mud was now entirely opaque.

Gwen became shrouded in pitch-black darkness, her world illuminated only by the glow from her iris, weakly refracted from the glass-like interior of her shield.

CLACK! Her shield shattered.

The walls pressed in, first enveloping her feet and hands, then her thighs. The mud mana was coarse and cold, with a texture like high-grit sandpaper. Claustrophobic panic inundated her mind, paralleling the viscous liquid filling her shield. The compressed air was making her head swell.

Her ears popped. She couldn't breathe.

Outside, Guo saw his granddaughter’s scheme reached its target.

"EE-EE!" her payload left her Familiar.

Not one but two Elemental Spheres issued forth from Ariel's horns—twin emerald suns bright enough to illuminate the entire courtyard, turning night into a smogless summer's day.

A volatile cocktail of destructive energies washed over the Force Barrier, sending the generators into a hysterical whine.

Wonsoo's para-elemental quagmire had held the energy of the Emerald Lightning captive, and now the whole duelling area was filling up with immense pressure, threatening to escape via the only logical means.

It was an unexpected outcome. Guo had not anticipated that Wonsoo would take advantage of the arena to fill the room instantly with his Mud mana, incapacitating Gwen by assailing her on all sides. On the other hand, he had also not foreseen that Gwen could squeeze out an artillery-class AOE capable of taking out Liu's entire manor.

WHOOOMP! The Elemental Spheres forcefully expanded to their maximum allowance. The entire duelling arena became an incandescent, rectangular light block, blinding the audience and obscuring the combatants.

The Force Barrier warped. A shockwave rang out.

The manor rocked as though an earthquake had struck. Pavements cracked. The pond water churned. A stone bridge collapsed. Eaves fell from the fascia and roof tiles clattered, falling over the panicked guests.

The wedding guests hid, scattered, or fled, averting the green suns that may be the call to some higher purpose.

Then the secondary blast hit. A Lightning nova swept across the arena unimpeded. The barriers grew white-hot, then dimmed.

Then Guo came to his senses. What had happened to the quagmire? The only beings who remained in the duelling arena were the girl, looking dazed and confused, and a Kirin handsomely dog-paddling above her head, vainly showing off its mane.

Guo turned to see if Liu had figured out the outcome.

Their eyes met. Liu shied away, his lips ashen.

A flush of unbidden pride and joy rippled across Guo's chest, even as he fought to control his uncharacteristically stony face.

Gwen had defeated Liu's prodigy. Wonsoo's plan had backfired.

To think that the combination of an enclosed space and highly-compressed mana would amplify the power of the girl's Elemental Sphere.

Guo searched the arena, wondering why there was no Magus Ly to announce Gwen's victory. A sudden realisation made the corner of his lips twitch. If he had been Ly, would he have stood on top of the duelling box, waiting for it to blow?

Shaking his head and turning to Liu with undisguised loathing, Guo stepped away from his in-law. "A well-fought match," he declared to Liu, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "I would have contested that curious Banishment but let us not dwell on such trivial dishonours. My family and I will leave for Shanghai once the banquet is done. The air of Hangzhou, Secretary Liu, is far too humid for a Northerner peasant like me."

For Gwen, the period after Ariel's double Elemental Sphere passed as though she was in a trance. She had seriously thought she was going to die.

When Ariel's attack filled the entire arena and electrified the mud-like mana, she knew she had fucked up. The AOE had been too much for the barriers to handle.

Furthermore, the invigorated Positive Lightning had ignited the mana that Wonsoo had used to fill the room, much like it had done before in the enclosed sewers under District 109.

But who'd have imagined Ariel could double up on her spells? She had felt the increased drain on her mana pool and thought the phenomenon a part of her empowered casting.

Her dark world had suddenly become white. She had wondered if the pressure exerted on her body would pop it like a blood sausage.

And then she recalled that she owned a Teleportation Ring. The Contingency Ring had been a gift from Gunther, a surety that she would be safe no matter where she ventured. As long as she was close to a Tower, her survival was assured.

How could she forgive herself if she had expended Gunther's ring on an ego trip, especially after Wonsoo had explicitly offered a truce?

Gwen reflexively dispelled Ariel, much to the crowd's clear relief. Caught in a haze, she descended the stage, swallowed by a sea of noise and sound. There were pats on the back, cheers and congratulations, death stares, and jeers and boos born full of anger and disappointment. The chaotic stimulus grew until it was white noise.

"Good work," a familiar voice cut through the static. A large towel wrapped around her shoulders, covering the spectacle of her immodest skinsuit.

Gwen looked up.

Jun's face grinned back at her, his arms folded across his chest.

"Uncle Jun!" An unbidden surge of passion choked the cry of relief from her lips. Her immediate reaction was to embrace him. Next, she carefully inspected the complexion of his neck and collarbones for hickeys.

Just as she had finally rested her cheek comfortably against his shoulder, she caught Ayxin staring.

"Ayxin." Gwen pulled herself away.

"Gwen." The Dragon-kin inclined her head.

The air between the two women sizzled.

"So are the two of you an item yet?"

"Gwen, not now," Jun cleared his throat. He cautiously warded off the curious faces of Tao, Petra and Mina with broad smiles. "The short answer is no."

Ayxin growled, visibly flustered by Jun's confession.

The sound emitted from the Dragon-kin's vocal cords carried a suggestive purr. It was a strangely erotic reaction, especially considering her exquisite and alluring choice of form, so much that even Gwen felt a tingle in her diaphragm.

Gwen wanted to say something witty, but her exclamation was interrupted by an uproar from the middle of the courtyard.

"Don't you understand, Guo? We're in this together now. Your grandchild and your son have killed the Yinglong's flock! They're going to bring calamity to Hangzhou and, by extension, Shanghai! How will you explain that to the National Assembly? To the Security Council?"

"Excuse me a moment." Her uncle left, followed closely by Ayxin.

Before Gwen could follow, her friends closed in on her.

"Gwen, are you all right?"

"How are you feeling?"

"What was that spell?"

"Is Ariel a Kirin?"

"Can it turn back into a Marten?"

The barrage of questions made her head throb. She noted that the assembly of wedding guests who had enjoyed the death match were now also craning their necks to hear what she had to say to her friends and family.

"Yes, I am okay. That was an Empowered signature spell. Ariel is not a real Kirin, and I am sure it could turn back into a Marten if it wanted to."

With the euphoria of seeing Jun now displaced, her muscles ached as though each piece had been individually racked and screwed.

"Overextended your mana channels, I'd wager," Petra said. She moved behind her cousin and began massaging her shoulders. "You'll need a week's worth of bed rest and healing from Babulya. Assuming you're continuing with Master, we're probably looking at a whole new body scan too."

"Yeah." Gwen closed her eyes and sunk into the sensation of Petra's fingers kneading through her bruised and battered flesh. Her commitment to Magister Wen had to continue, less so on Petra's account and more so out of necessity. According to Jun, so long as Pudong and the PLA Tower had equal access to Wen's research data while Gwen remained in China, they would abide by their unspoken agreement to leave her be. Should that teat of knowledge dry up, all would suffer.

"My Lady!" A not-so-familiar voice caught Gwen's attention. It was Chen Pao, and the young man had accosted Ayxin, separating her from Jun.

Holy moly, Gwen tugged at Petra. This she had to see.

Pao stared at Ayxin with his eyes as wide as quail eggs, possessing the same ferocity he had previously garnered for Gwen. However, as he came closer to the Dragon-in-disguise, the young man appeared to grow less sure of himself.

"You…" Pao stuttered. "I…" Then to Gwen’s surprise, he backpedalled.

"Miss? Do I know you from somewhere?"

Looking at Ayxin strutting around in her laundered Hello Kitty t-shirt, something clicked between Gwen's ears. Ayxin must have borrowed her likeness!

The Dragon-kin had asked for a change of her clothes back on Lotus Peak. Assuming the woman ventured into the human world searching for Jun, the only garb the Dragon woman would have possessed was Gwen's gift of mundane, non-magical clothing. To enter the human world, it would have been best to assume Gwen's likeness, not to mention the Anhui border guards had seen her prior.

Bloody hell, you snake bastard! Gwen spewed internally. You violated my copyright! A Dragon wouldn't download a teenage body, would it?

But of course, the Dragon-kin had done just that. Ayxin was arrogant, entitled, and perfectly happy taking people's shit without regard for them. Not to mention that getup. God, how old was the woman? Two hundred? Parading around like she was sweet sixteen. Did Dragons know no shame? How thick was their skin?

To her surprise, Ayxin did not rebuke the young man. "Your suffering was my oversight, young Mage. I shall now clear your mind. Go and sleep off your sorrows. Tomorrow will be a better day and all your woes will pass like a summer storm."

"Yes, Mistress," Pao said. The young man turned toward the exit, catching Gwen and her posse eavesdropping.

Gwen swallowed nervously as their eyes met. Chen's orbs were bloodshot.

Oh, Lordy. Her heart ached with second-hand pity. The poor sod.

Pao bowed deeply. "I am sorry I mistook you for someone else," the young man said. "Please forgive my blindness."

"Look, it's not your fault." Gwen waved her hands defensively, fanning the wretched misery drifting from the young man like a stench. "We all make mistakes."

"I will do everything I can and beyond to exonerate your reputation."

"That's not necessary." Gwen was serious. She wanted to put this episode behind her. Being slut-shamed in front of half of Hangzhou's high society wasn't the sort of experience one cherished.

But before she could continue, Pao walked away, clearly compelled by a greater force than Gwen's mortal presence.

With the young man gone, she approached Ayxin. The two were the same height, with near-identical figures, creating a curious visage for Gwen's cousins to digest.

"Don't expect me to thank you," she addressed the Dragon woman cattily. Rather than a beauty that felt real, Ayxin's comeliness appeared as though she’d sprung to life from a silk-screen painting.

Team Cousin joined the two. "Gwen, who is this?" Petra examined Ayxin, puzzled by the likeness.

Gwen introduced her uncle's Dragon d'amore. "Ayxin, Petra. This is Tao. This is Mina. Guys, this is Ayxin. She's a demi-human Dragon-kin."

Ayxin snubbed Gwen's cousins.

"Ai's got an attitude, eh?" Tao chuckled. He straightened himself, then threw a gang sign up in Axyin's face. "Sup, Ayxin! You wanna party, you come to me, gurl. I show you the best beats in town, real culture, with a capital C."

Mina was a far better listener. "Umm, Where's she from?"

"Huangshan." A mischievous smirk touched Gwen's lips. "Lotus Peak, to be specific."

"But that's where…" Petra traversed her eyes until they landed on an answer. A flicker of Divination passed behind her orbs, and then the Russian girl audibly gasped.

Petra retreated a step and bowed. Mina quickly followed suit.

Tao appeared confused. "What's wrong with chu?"

"Peaches, shut up and bow!" Mina insisted.

Ayxin waved them away. "I am here on a private matter," she said. "There is no need for ceremony."

"Dangerous though she might be, she's a cool sheila." Gwen tucked a hand against Ayxin's narrow waist. "Did I mention she's got the hots for Uncle Jun?"

Mina shot Ayxin a look that was shock-horror.

"Child, you have been very liberal with me," Ayxin chided Gwen. "Your overfamiliarity displeases me."

"You came uninvited," Gwen fired back at her. "What did you do with Uncle Jun? The two of you were gone for a long time."

"I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"My business? Oh ho ho."

"Gwen…" Petra touched a hand to her forehead as if suppress a sudden migraine. She pulled Gwen away from the Dragon-kin. "How is this possible? Ayxin shouldn't be here. She can't be here!"

"I wouldn't know." Gwen studied the Dragon-kin, hypothesising a few potential possibilities. "She's here, though, so I'd say it's a bit late to worry about shielding loopholes."

"What about her C-O-R-E?" Petra whispered warily. The vast majority of the guests had cleared out by now. The place was filled with servants cleaning up what remained of the banquet. "You know…"

"That's a good point." Gwen turned to Ayxin. "So, how is it that—"

"Ayxin!" Jun's voice called out from beside Liu and Guo. "I need you for a moment. Can you spare a minute?"

"I can." Ayxin's voice effortlessly carried over to Jun.

The cousin crew watched Ayxin depart.

"She got a nice ass." Tao smacked his lips. "She hollering from the Anhui Frontier, you say?"

That's my ass. Gwen resisted the urge to punch Tao in the arm. She could feel her Draconic Essence trickling back now, unknotting her muscles one by one.

Mina and Petra regarded Tao with distaste. There were terrible listeners, and then there were awful listeners.

"No, Peaches." Gwen mimed a flying Dragon with her fingers. "She's a Winged Drake, a Dragon-kin. Half-human, half demi-god, and she's over two hundred years old."

"She's over two hundred years old?" Tao suddenly looked up. "If dragons live for thousands of years, does that make Uncle Jun a cradle robber?"

"Naw, she's an old goat looking to tuck a young ram." Gwen snorted spitefully. "Say, where's Percy?"

Mina and Tao both shrugged. "I saw him leave right after you won," Petra informed her cousin.

Gwen exhaled deeply before surveying the desolate courtyard, now empty of guests. Only the NoM servants remained, scrubbing grease and vomit from the tiles, mementoes left over from her inexpert Dragon Fear.

"Come on," she notified the others. "Let's see what the oldies are doing. Maybe we can leave for Shanghai tonight. I don't think I've ever missed my apartment as much as I do now."

"Jun, I signed you a pass through to the Anhui Frontier because you said your niece needed training, not so that you could slaughter the Yinglong's flock!"

"Magus Liu, it's a little disingenuous to backpedal. Both you and I know the rules. Why raise a fuss after the fact?" Jun had on his usual affable grin. From the looks of it, her uncle was trying to dissuade Liu from weaselling out of their gambit.

"Because he lost his gambit, and now he wants to reclaim face," Ayxin interjected before Liu could continue. "You can see it on his face."

"Excuse me, who are you?" Liu snapped, his eyes narrowing with annoyance. From the secretary's palpable frustration, this wasn't the first time Ayxin had spoken up while the men had been talking. "I have been nothing but courteous to you, young lady. I suggest you take your wisdom and leave my estate."

"I refuse," Ayxin scoffed. "If Jun stays, I stay."

"Guo, this is your son's guest. Are you going to let her insult me in my own house?" Liu's tepid attempts at dragging her grandfather into the muck no longer escaped Gwen now that she was over her shoe euphoria.

"I think our esteemed guest can do whatever she likes." Guo met his son's eyes.

"Oh yes," Klavdiya informed Ayxin. "You just be yourself, dear."

"Yes, I intended to." Ayxin eyed Jun's parents happily. "I was told that mothers-in-law are frightful beings. But you are nice."

Klavdiya nodded.

"Guo!" Secretary Liu's voice took on a higher pitch and volume. "This disrespect is unbecoming! Do you think that just because you have defeated Wonsoo you can walk sideways all over the House of Liu? Did you know crabs are a Hangzhou delicacy?"

"Secretary, there's no need for that kind of language," Jun stepped between his parents, his in-law, and his Dragon girl.

"Let's just part amicably, shall we? Where are Hai and Qīn, anyhow? Shouldn't they be here to acknowledge how… er, 'events' will go forward? Our families are now joined, are we not?"

Jun's diplomacy seemed to encourage the desperate secretary. The man's face suddenly grew grim. "If you think I will hand over my grandchild just like that, Guo, you've got another think coming. You uncultivated peasant farmers—"

"How dare you insult Jun!" Ayxin tongue-lashed the unsuspecting secretary. "Chastise yourself!"

The Dragon-kin's words reverberated through the air with a fantastic force. With the deliverance of the last syllable, something overcame the secretary, crushing his being until only crumbs remained.

To the horror of the Songs and the remaining servants, Liu prostrated himself before Jun and Ayxin. In Gwen's opinion, the word “prostrate” could hardly do the man's actions justice. What Liu performed was a full-body, Manchurian kowtow, one in which the sycophant threw oneself on the floor, flattened one's body while on hands and knees, and then slammed one's head against the floor.

Too bad for Liu, his estate had used solid granite for the flooring.

THUNK!

Gwen winced as Liu fell face-first on the pavement, pancaking his facial features. A bloody tooth went flying.

"FUCK ME!" Tao muttered audibly.

The spectacle lingered, as did the awkward silence.

"Master!"

"Protect the Master!"

"Defend the patriarch!"

Abruptly, guards began to converge from the shadows, the doorways, and the roof. All in all, a dozen Mages of various seniority surrounded the outer courtyard.

Jun shook his head. "Peaceful Hangzhou isn't just for show," the Ash Bringer chortled sardonically.

Guo chuckled.

Ayxin stood unmoved. Her visage was that of an empress who could command the death of Liu's men at a whim.

She turned to the secretary. "You dare?"

The bleeding Secretary Liu was a stone statue. His cracked lips appeared welded shut by some external, compelling force.

"Father!"

To Gwen's dismay, the beleaguered secretary was saved by the bell, for his helpless acquiescence was interrupted by the sound of Qīn's harrowing shriek from the eastern gate.

Liu's bleeding mien darkened considerably. Even Gwen could see that losing face in front of his beloved daughter was a fate worse than being beaten half to death.

Qīn ran across the courtyard, silk robes streaming behind, her white-jade flesh dancing against the pale light. She fell to her knees, heedless of the muck, then scooped up her father with both arms.

"Cure Wounds!"

A flow of Positive Energy suffused Secretary Liu, who became putty in his caring daughter's hands.

Hai then appeared at the threshold connecting the inner and outer courtyard.

"Jun, what is the meaning of this?" Gwen winced when Guo glared at him with an expression that could only be matched by the frigid hostility exhibited by Jun's libidinous little minx.

But the girl's anger was different. Her body language was that of a woman in love defending her beau.

"Father, can you get up?" Qīn pulled at her father desperately.

"Ayxin. That's enough," Jun pleaded with his Draconic companion. "Secretary Liu wasn't serious."

Ayxin lifted her chin imperceptibly.

Liu gasped, his lips finally loosening.” Qīn, get away!" he yelled out. "The girl's a Mind Mage."

"You'll be sorry!" Qīn screeched at Ayxin. To Gwen's complete delight and amazement, the willow-like woman turned to her new husband. "Hai, do something!"

Gwen felt as though something inside her had finally ignited.

Hai almost tripped over his own feet.

Do something? That was his brother, the fucking Ash Bringer and his mind-warping Grey Ghost escort standing there, and the Salt-Mage-without-a-catalyst-pendant should do something?

Not to mention Gwen was glaring at him judgementally, though that was expected. And his whole bloody family, including his little sister, Nen, his mother, Klavdiya, and his nieces and nephews, all waiting for him to play the silly bugger.

Do something? Qīn may as well have asked him to shove a wand up his arse and do a fucking Tripak routine.

Hai scratched his head. His wife began to sob. FUCK! What the fuck was his wife thinking? Should he fight his fucking father? Fight Gwen? Fight Jun's Hello Kitty?

But Hai instinctively knew he had to do something. In a situation like this, the greatest danger was doing nothing.

"So…" Hai swept his gaze over those critically observing every hair on his head, groped the air for something to say, then sighed with exaggerated resignation.

"Look," he began. "It's my wedding, fellers. Maybe ease off on the politics? Have some tea. There's still the cake left. Can't we all be friends?"

A curious silence descended among Hai's audience. Hai breathed out.

Did it work? That was easier than he'd imagined.

"FUCK YOU, DAD!"

An F-bomb echoed across the desolate courtyard.

An empty bottle of Maotai flew toward Hai's general direction.

Gwen's father ducked. Behind his head, the Enchantment-strengthened ceramic bottle bounced against a wall, fracturing the sandstone before rebounding from the granite floor and into the pond with a plop.

The two hundred and fifty millilitre rebuke had come from his daughter, who was reaching for another bottle even as Petra was restraining her.

For Gwen, watching her father putting on a self-satisfied smile finally broke something inside her. One childhood marooned with Morye Song was one thing. Two childhoods lost at sea with Morye-cum-Hai was more than a girl could grin and bear.

Feeling her chest ache, a curious revelation gripped her. Gwen discovered that she wasn't mad at Qīn, Secretary Liu, or even her grandfather. They were people with an agenda, with goals that were, in their twisted way, admirable. Men and women like her grandfather worked toward their single-minded objectives with an ego-centric amorality that, at the very least, implied devotion.

But her father. Hai fucking Song. All he cared about was his own goddamned happiness. Her father couldn't even meet the most basic metric she could imagine in a human being—to do no evil, to leave one's family out of one's cock-ups.

"How dare you? How can you laugh?" The banshee shriek that rang out across the courtyard was enhanced by Illusion. "You got us into this mess! We're only here because of you! Fuck you and your careless bullshit!"

Her face had become an outburst of bubbling rage from every orifice.

"You hung me out to dry! Again! Some fuckers tried to have a go at me! Again! Where the fuck were you, asshole?"

As usual, she saw that Hai's first instinct was to get the fuck out of the way, but Qīn's presence tethered him to the emotional cluster-fuck, wearing his daughter's face like a ball and chain.

"Gwen, calm down! Whoa… Bloody…" Hai stammered. "Hey! Calm down! You won, right? Everything worked out. What's the problem?"

"FU—" Gwen's hazel eyes glowed bright blue. A cascade of Dragon Fear leaked from her body.

Both Petra and Mina stood frozen in their tracks.

She saw her uncle Jun rushed toward them as she dragged her two cousins bodily across the floor, dead set on finding another Maotai projectile.

A surge of electricity arced from Gwen's body.

"Arrgh!"

"Gwen…"

The two girls jumped back. Petra, being a Mineral Mage, circumvented the accidental assault readily. Mina proved less resilient. She swore and nursed her hand with a mote of Positive Energy, then again tried to help her.

"Bastard!" Gwen spat, propelled by superheated jets of repressed anger. “I swear to Al—if Caliban was still around, I'd-"

Jun reached out and pressed her to his chest, burying her face so that her cries became muffled. "There, there…" her uncle comforted her awkwardly.

"Uncle Jun, you can't let this go, not this time. This fucker…"

"It's okay. I get it. Shush. shhh…” Jun’s arms were vice grips.

Arcs of electricity fired from her hair, body, and fingers. She was on the verge of explosion when suddenly, a jolt of Elemental Ash entered her.

Her dearest uncle Jun held her captive until her limbs ceased their struggle.

The front of Jun's shirt was soaked. Her meticulous makeup was ruined, though she was sedate, calm, and no longer reaching for bottles.

A chilling breeze swept the outer courtyard, rustling the willows. The screaming, the shouting, the crash of bottles and the sob of human misery ceased.

Her father stood awkwardly to one side, facing his family, watching her hugging his brother's waist in a daze. Slowly, he averted her gaze.

Not far from her husband, Qīn had recovered from Gwen's sudden hysteria, her right hand firmly resting against Liu's back while her free hand dabbed the blood from her father's face. Her eyes persisted in begging her husband to make the unhappiness go away.

Secretary Liu remained kneeling, his face contorted with despair.

Guo stood beside her babulya, one hand gripping the hand of his wife of over four decades. Her babulya slumped against her husband's rigid body, overwhelmed by disappointment and an indescribable sense of shame.

Nen hugged Tao and Mina to her sides, her body language announcing that she thanked Mao's lucky red stars for marrying the right man. Her kids likewise stood intimately beside their mother, looking at Gwen and then Hai.

Petra stood alone, thinking thoughts Gwen could not know.

Opposite Petra was Ayxin, who studied the humans to her left and right like an anthropologist having found the last tribe of the anthropophagi, trying to document emotions and interactions.

DING! A Message spell bloomed beside Jun's ear, breaking the spell of silence.

"As I was saying," Jun turned to Secretary Liu, "before I was interrupted, there's going to be someone from Central coming."

"C-Central?" Liu stammered. His eyes watered. The man looked terrified.

"Why would someone come from the Central Committee of the Party?" Liu's hands gripped the air as if there was invisible aid.

Almost as if on cue, the air hummed. Gwen had seen high-tier Teleportation once before—when Gunther had come to her rescue in Blackheath.

A flash of silvery Conjuration engendered in the air. A silvery mandala laid itself over the floor, burning the pavement with its white-hot mana, ensuring no obstructions impeded the traveller's arrival.

At its conclusion, a spatial tear opened as though someone had unseamed space and time with a scalpel.

The first to emerge was a handsome woman in a standard off-white military blouse, dark tie, pencil skirt and black heels. The badge and lapel on her collar and shoulders indicated she was from the Central Confidential Communications Bureau.

The next two were men in their thirties and forties, each exuding palpable auras. One had the build of a close-combat Transmuter, the other the stocky form of an Earthen Abjurer. Both of the men carried with them a stock of wands strapped to their thighs. The Transmuter furthermore had a four-foot sword strapped to his back.

The last man to step through the portal was an old gent with greying hair. He wore a cotton mandarin jacket with knots for buttons, paired with pants and hand-stitched coarse cotton shoes. As the man dusted himself off, he gave off the air of a farmer having arrived home after a long day at the fields. His eyes were hidden behind two thin lines that hid his orbs, made prominent by a profusion of crow's feet.

"Guo, you old hound! How are you? It's been a year since I last saw you at the National Congress." The man was surprisingly friendly.

Guo, Jun and Klavdiya were already bowing before the portal had fully formed. The younger family members followed suit, as did Secretary Liu and his daughter. The guards fell to one knee. The servants lowered their heads against the pavement.

Ayxin furrowed her brows. "You?" The Dragon-kin glanced at Jun before turning to the stout, smiling gent.

"Do you remember me?" the silver-haired gentlemen chuckled.

"Miao. Yang-Bò?" Ayxin did not take long to recall the man. Dragons possessed eidetic memory. "You're Secretary Miao."

"It's Secretary-General now." To Gwen’s surprise, Miao bowed, lowering his head respectfully.

Liu's complexion was now the colour of freshly laundered bedsheets.

"You look different, Lord Ayxin."

"As do you, Mr Miao. You look like an old man."

The man didn't look a day over fifty, Gwen observed from behind her uncle. In truth, he appeared younger than her grandfather.

"Ha-ha, Lord Ayxin, you're as ruthless as ever." Miao chuckled, his sonorous voice pleasing to the ear. "I am eighty-two, can you believe it? Now, if you would excuse me a moment, we shall negotiate the terms of your unexpected visit shortly. I assure you, Lord Ayxin, you will not be disappointed."

"Do as you wish."

Secretary-General Miao extended a hand. Ayxin raised hers. Miao clasped the Dragon-kin's appendage and shook it vigorously. "Welcome to Hangzhou, Lord Ayxin. Come to Shanghai later. I am sure you will find Pudong to your liking."

He then turned toward the humbled assembly. "The Chinese Communist Party welcomes Her Eminence, Lord Ayxin of Huangshan, scion of the Yinglong, an ally to mankind and now our state-sanctioned VIP, the first of her kind in fifty years."

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP. Miao's bodyguards broke into a standing ovation.

Guo clapped. Liu clapped. Jun clapped. Swept up by the moment, Gwen clapped as well.

Every pair of hands in the room followed suit, including the guards and the NoM servants.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

The calm had passed, and now a tempestuous ovation filled the once-quiet courtyard, signalling the swelling of the next act.

Chapter thirty-eight

Interlude -

A Pricking of the Thumbs

When enough of his faculty returned, Percy Song found himself near the outskirts of the Lake District encircling the Liu Estate.

Taking a moment to gather himself, he surveyed his surroundings.

He was in an old, abandoned place of worship, possibly Taoist, maybe Buddhist or Confucian, for the decrepitude of the ancient pagoda made it impossible to know. There was a half-shattered statue of a headless figure lying on its side, but the visage of the Chinese gods, with their long flowing robes, was indecipherable to a boy who had grown up in Sydney.

There were bundles of straw strewn here and there, old newspaper, disposable cups and plates, and scrunched-up bags of spoiled food that reeked. A dozen baijiu bottles, empty, lay to the side.

An acrid scent of urine further informed him that the dilapidated temple wasn't as abandoned as he had initially thought. However, it was certainly devoid of human presence at the moment.

But none of that bothered Percy, at least not now.

Touching a hand to his Kirin Amulet, Percy searched the spirit well within the Kirin Core like a man noodling for catfish in the muck. Usually, it was dormant, mingling with the collated Essences within the core, providing him with vitality and raw Spirit Essence for his training.

Other times, it seemed to take on a will of its own. Whenever it happened, Percy would be forced to flood the ritual with his Salt-tinged mana. He would ultimately succeed in subsuming the damned thing's Essence. But then he would be left OOM and vulnerable—a most undesirable set of circumstances, both for the present and the future.

It was the only way to ensure the amulet was his and his alone.

The temple was foul and filthy, but there was no helping it. "Thunder Wave!"

A ripple of clear mana blasted away the grime and debris from the centre of the room. He listened for the sound of commotion or alarm.

Good. There was no one else.

Percy seated himself in front of the headless statue. The Ritual of the Kirin's Blessing had four steps: meditation, harmonisation, circulation, absorption. Percy crossed his legs, forming the lotus position, then took account of the last half an hour or so. Before beginning the circulation phase, his mind must be harmonised and untroubled.

His quandary was that he had a lot on his mind. After all, his sister had summoned a Kirin. Bloody Caliban was already a thrice-damned shapeshifting abomination, horrific enough to turn supporters away from his sister, but now she possessed a demi-god spirit?

At first, he’d been unfazed. He had immediately recognised it as Gwen's Familiar. Despite its pseudo-Kirin appearance, its gait and that ubiquitous “Eeee!” was a sight he had seen many times prior.

But as the battle had climaxed, Gwen had injected her Familiar with a dose of what could only be described as the single most rarified Essence he had ever felt. Ariel's appearance changed from a Kirin-like creature to a semi-divine being.

Feeling a peevish ache in his bosom, a sense of self-loathing caught Percy in its grasp. Shouldn't I be happy for my sister? a voice whispered from somewhere in his chaotic mind. Logic inferred that his sister's boon was his gain, that her growing influence served as his pillar of support, and that her mightiness would elevate his position.

But that would be lying to himself, and Percy was too smart to fool himself with benumbing platitudes.

The truth was simple enough—he was resentful.

Ever since Australia, a slow-building, gut-wrenching envy had culminated into deep-seated jealousy, an unshakable feeling that Gwen had somehow usurped his destiny. Why wasn't he up there with the Kirin Familiar, battling it out with a famous Magus? Why hadn't Uncle Jun offered to take him into Huangshan? After all, Percy had a Kirin Pendant—he would be the bigger beneficiary by far.

High above on the stage, Gwen and Wonsoo had exchanged spells. Her emerald Lightning then filled the duelling arena. Concurrently, his Kirin Pendant had gone apeshit. Percy couldn't think of another word to describe the sensation.

It was as though a Mage Hand had gripped the Kirin Core, tugged it from the red string around his neck, then made a beeline straight for his sister's radiant presence.

Percy had felt caught in the grasp of an unexplainable panic. FLEE!

An unbidden thought had flooded his adolescent faculties—a shoal of white water over a tidal flat. Turning away from the stage, he had fled, unseen and unnoticed, while all eyes had stayed glued to the explosive forces unleashed between the duellists.

He’d bolted past the guards, who had paid him no heed, then vaulted over the walls with a well-timed Jump. Thanks to his grandfather's gruelling training, he had gained steady mastery over simple, utilitarian Transmutation.

When he’d hit the pavement outside, he’d buffed himself with Agility and Expeditious Retreat, then ran from the estate, pursued by the urgency of the burning pendant searing his flesh.

Upon reaching the edge of the West Lake, he’d dived into the thrush, hoping the frigid pool could temper the scalding stone.

But there had been no hiss nor sizzle when he broke through the murky surface. The heat had been an illusion—or perhaps more mockingly—a delusion.

Percy had thumbed the cold exterior of the Kirin Core. For a split second, he’d envisioned tearing it from his neck and hurling it into the dark water.

Percy's mind returned to the present. When did it all go pear-shaped?

Two years ago, he had watched his clueless sister go off on her Awakening Day at Blackwattle. She had returned home, distraught and confused, almost comically so, and told him that she was a Generalist.

A Generalist!

What the FUCK? She had to have been shitting him!

He recalled that his pity had struggled to overwhelm his amusement and that it had taken everything he’d had to keep his face straight. Their mother had always stated sagely that Gwen's only worth was her face, and his sister had splendidly proven their mother's prediction. Having attended a selective high school, even at the tender age of thirteen, Percy had known better than anyone what awaited his sister—a loveless marriage, the bearing of children who would be her hope, amiable in-laws if she was lucky, an apathetic and neglectful husband if she was not.

He had promised himself that when he became a Magus in the Sydney Tower, he would help her out.

A few weeks later, he’d heard the shocking news that there had been a mistake, and Gwen had awoken instead as a Lighting Evoker. The electrifying shift in her fortunes had caught Percy flatfooted, but he had felt happy for his sister, whose life could now take a less tragic slant.

Then events had begun to happen around Gwen, seemingly without rhyme or reason, escalating without cessation. Names Percy had only heard or seen on the vid-casts began to circulate in his sister's life. Alesia De Botton, Henry Kilroy, Gunther Shultz—men and women in positions that an adolescent Percy could not even begin to describe filled the rare conversations he held with Hai and Helena. Even their opa, the weird old patriarch who had been estranged from the House of Huang since Percy could speak, became obsessively fond of Gwen, going so far as to leave her his share of the estate, leaving Percy to eat dust.

That had been yet another shock to Percy, but one he could take in stride. After all, there had been no expectation that their opa would have left anything to his children, especially knowing the old man's vitriol toward his two ungrateful scions.

After that, the Mermen Leviathan crashed into Sydney Harbour. His schooling at Prince's, his life in Sydney, and his future had ended abruptly. Even his uncle, the arrogant Kwan, had lost everything to the city's sacking, forcing his prodigious cousin, Richard, to seek his chances elsewhere.

As for Percy, he had become disoriented and had been numbed by the destruction. For weeks, he had followed his mother and stepfather without question. Followed them like a zombie, not knowing what the future held.

But Lady Fortuna had had other plans in store for him.

Suddenly, a grandfather he didn’t even know existed had made his presence known to Percy. Guo Song had taken Percy from the refugee hellhole that was Frontier Sydney and brought him to Shanghai, a tier-one city. He had also told Percy he would be heir to the House of Song.

His sister was in Shanghai too, but strangely, the old man loathed his sister with a passion Percy couldn't even begin to understand.

But no matter. He was saved.

Orgiastic relief and joy had swelled from Percy's heart and scoured every inch of his cankerous depression and doubt. Finally, he had found his place in the world; he could fill the shoes of promised destiny.

After that, he barely heard Gwen's subsequent grandstanding, though he recalled that she had upset his grandfather.

When Gwen had passed over the Kirin Amulet, the same one their father had given her on the day of her Awakening, he’d felt such giddiness that his hand had trembled. Percy recalled that he could scarcely breathe when Gwen had slipped the amulet over his head. The still-warm Kirin pendant had sat against his bosom and Percy had known all was right with the world.

His sister's eyes had become misty, and the natural amber-emerald hue of her orbs had become clouded, but Percy hadn’t worried about that. He would somehow make it up to her later, but this had been his moment.

After the short ceremony, Guo had left for the study. His grandmother had departed as well.

Percy had sat alone under the ambient light of the dimly lit hall, thumbing his new pendant, dreaming of the bright future that awaited him. Sometime later, he had heard a commotion from the west wing, from the training hall. There were shouts of encouragement, laughter, and a few choked sobs. Driven by curiosity, he had peeked through the faux windows separating the practical section of the estate from its living quarters.

Voices had filled his sister's temporary abode. Gwen. His father. His grandmother. Uncle Jun. Petra. Tao. Mina. Richard.

Laughing, cheering, belonging.

Standing alone, separated by the flimsy barrier in the dark, a caustic panic had gripped Percy's heart, just as it did now. The amulet grew hot and heavy around his neck, more akin to an iron-wrought manacle than silken strings.

Should I have taken the Kirin Stone? The tinnitus of doubt thrummed in his ear. That was when he had first felt the presence in the amulet. He had felt a pressure, a touch, a finger on the soft membrane of his brain.

"Thank you all! Thank you for supporting me!"

The clarion voice of his sister had rung through the courtyard, and Percy had found himself fleeing toward his room, his lungs fighting for every desperate gasp of air.

What happened after that? Percy pondered. His memory of the event was fuzzy and uncertain.

A few days later, Grandfather had laid out privacy wards in the training hall, sat him down, and told him the family history. There was some gobbledygook about Chinese spirits and an old Kirin, as well as blood curses that sounded as mystical as it was divorced from modern Spellcraft, but the point made by his grandfather was clear.

If he, a Salt Mage, wanted to carry on the family line, he would need the amulet. If he ever wanted to catch up with his sister, he would need the amulet. Most importantly, if Percy ever wished to wield the power of Salt with impunity, he would need the amulet.

"Both your father and your uncle begin their training shortly after Awakening, but to my knowledge, only Jun fully utilised the Kirin Amulet's power. As for your father, I can only assume he did enough before he left, considering that you and Gwen are living proof of his mastery over the element."

Percy had no idea, of course. His father had never mentioned his past, family, or half of the amulet.

"I will now teach you how to cultivate using the Kirin Stone. Percy Song, I now bestow the Kirin's Blessing and the Rite of Essence Transfer upon you."

The rest of the lecture had been both a threat and a warning.

The training had been difficult and fraught with physical and mental pain. More than once, Percy had regretted taking on the burden of the amulet and its Necromancy-tainted application. As the Essence from the Kirin Core had nourished his body, his training had progressed in leaps and bounds, far quicker than replenishing his reserves with HDM crystals. His astral and his physical body had felt impervious to the Negative Drain from his Salt talent, meaning he was limited only by the extent of his willpower.

For the first time, Percy had become confident he could catch up to Gwen.

Slowly, the jade pendant had lost its emerald exterior, turning translucent and white like salt. He took it as a sign that he had successfully converted the Kirin Core to his use. Later, Guo confirmed that the core took on different hues when reacting with users. Unsurprisingly, Jun's half of the Kirin Core was white, dull and ashen.

Shortly after that, he’d felt the presence again—a schizophrenic existence.

Sometimes, it sought to reject him, even attack him during meditation.

Other times, it was inviting and hungry, drawing in more and more of his Salt-tinged mana. That and the indescribable sensation of drowning in darkness whenever he entered deep meditation with the amulet active.

He felt cast out to sea, alone and abandoned in these moments. He was a drowned sailor, sinking into the murk while painfully aware that something indescribably large waited for him below—a poetically apt phobia for a boy who had survived a Leviathan crashing into his city.

Then one day, unbidden and unexpected, Gwen had come to visit him while he’d been contending with his inner demons. The pendant had gone “apeshit” a few minutes into their conversation. He’d realised then that there was something inside the amulet which desperately wanted to join its former possessor.

After shooing her away, he’d taken a cold shower and returned to the training hall. Then with masochistic glee, he had poured his desiccating mana into the damned thing, suppressing whatever "thing" stirred within the Kirin Core's depth.

After that, Percy had tightened his training regime. There had been additional incidents where the amulet had rebuked him, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Furthermore, he had questioned his uncle, who had disputed the existence of a presence inside the amulet.

"Gwen went through a warzone, so there's probably any number of spirits in her stone," Jun had replied offhandedly. His lack of enthusiasm for Percy had been poorly disguised on his face. "You should be so lucky to be the benefactor of her woe."

Jun's reaction was enough. Percy had decided it was safest to keep the complication close to his chest. His Spellcraft training was coming along well, and that was all that mattered. He felt he was progressing far better than his sister at just fifteen. Having received formal preparatory training since the age of eleven, he knew the theory, the practical methodology, and his abilities far better than Gwen knew hers.

Not only that, his new school, Xiangming Metropolitan, provided Cognisance Chamber readings on a fortnightly basis.

Seeing his statistical data increase point by point, month by month, was the greatest satisfaction and the most ardent vindication of his resolution. Things at his new school likewise fell into a routine. He made new friends, mostly among the Guan-er-dai, power progenies such as himself, and founded friendships with well-to-do clanners.

Midway through the semester, he’d met Pei Li. The two had got talking, and Pei had asked him if Gwen Song from Fudan was related to the Songs. Percy's answer had remained evasive, and his new friend had accidentally discovered Gwen's precarious position in the family. Later, another mutual friend had told Percy that an elder from Pei's clan had been discharged and that the Huashang Lis had lost two promising young Mages in a confrontation involving Gwen. When he’d confronted Pei, the young man had shrugged, stating that it was the work of renegades who were now excommunicated from the clan's inner circle.

Not wanting to rock the boat, Percy had accepted the explanation, even though the thought of his sister chasing him down and demanding to know the truth haunted him.

But there was nothing he could do, so Percy had delved headlong into training.

Then news came of his father's new bride.

Percy had initially thought a new mother would have bothered him, but having met his new family, he liked the Lius and what they had built for themselves in Hangzhou. In Percy's eyes, the Lius' history was a good roadmap for his ambitions in China—to secure House Song's position, branch out via powerful allies, and build himself a legacy.

He imagined himself the master of an estate like the Lius and fancied it. NoMs would quake as he passed, men and women would bow if they were subservient or dip their chins if they were compatriots. People would refer to Percy as "patriarch", "Master", "sir", and perhaps in time, "Secretary" and "Magister".

Then, of course, Gwen had arrived. As before, the amulet had gone apeshit.

This time, Gwen had reached for his amulet, something she had never done before. The act had rattled him to his core, for he knew with absolute certainty that had Gwen laid her hands on the pendant, she would have yanked it from his neck and forever laid claim to his heirloom.

So Percy had panicked—again. He’d vindictively accused her of having designs on his inheritance, driving his sister from the house.

Good riddance. Percy thanked the gods for a grandfather like Guo. He had no idea why Guo disliked Gwen, just as he couldn't fathom why Jun had taken to Gwen so strongly.

After that, he’d retreated to the privacy of his guest room and circulated his mana into the amulet until it had ceased the damned rollicking.

He had avoided his sister after that… until tonight.

Percy thumbed the Kirin Pendant again. "Little shit," he said to no one in particular. The insult had come from his sister. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but it had stuck with Percy, grated on him, and ate away at his innards.

A little shit…

Percy scoffed. For some reason, the bland and uninspiring insult sat in his kidneys like a stone.

"Fuck you too!" he announced to the decapitated statue.

The stoic form of the half-shattered ornament informed him that his insult was not very effective.

"Ha-ha.” Percy chuckled, hearing his mocking laughter reverberate around the sky well of the shattered atrium, returning the mockery to its sender.

He shook his head. He had to return to the wedding. Win or lose, he had to be there, or else Guo would be upset.

Percy relaxed. The soliloquy felt good.

He felt much better now that his head wasn't cluttered with angst and repressed solicitudes. There was nothing like an open-air F-bomb to clear your system.

Collecting himself, Percy rested the pendant between his hands, looking as though he was cradling a miniature Kirin, then began the rite.

"Drain Life!" The stowed Essence within the Kirin Stone began to flow into his body, strengthening his vitality and fortifying his astral body. When the pendant wasn't acting up, the process was almost pleasurable, like being bathed in warm milk.

"ARRRRRGGH!" A shriek echoed across the courtyard. A vaguely female humanoid figure burst from the remnants of the broken statue, struck the floor, and then began to writhe and twist, scratching and clawing at her throat.

It took Percy half a second to register what he was seeing. "Shield!"

He tumbled backwards across the filthy floor and came up in a defensive stance, ready to run if his opponent was an ambusher or a Mage he couldn't overcome with his meagre tiers of Spellcraft.

With his Drain Life disrupted, the female figure rolled onto her belly, then onto her hand and knees. His assailant raised her head.

Hidden behind a crow's nest of filthy, matted hair, a pair of dark eyes looked up at Percy.

A woman? No, a girl. Percy felt his blood run cold. She had seen him!

She had seen him exercise the Songs’ forbidden magic! He raised a hand toward her face.

"Don't kill me, Lord Mage! I am… I am an NoM! I live here. I got scared when someone came. Please." The voice was coarse, pitiful and weak.

Percy paused. The woman, or girl—it was impossible to tell—was stick thin and covered in dirt, muck, and grime. Her wild hair was tangled in unpleasant knots, falling over her back and neck like a filthy rope. Whatever was in that statue had furthermore stuck to her rags and exposed skin, making her more akin to a Night Goblin than a human being.

Now that his shock had passed, Percy furthermore noted that the source of stench he had noticed earlier belonged not to the locale but to the vagabond.

His gaze softened. "No, I should be sorry," he replied, breathing gently. "Do you live here? In such a horrible state? Where are your parents?"

"I…" The girl appeared caught off guard by the visage of a pleasant young man in a tuxedo, standing in the moonlight, speaking amiably to her.

"Can you stand?"

"Y-yeah." She made an effort to stand.

Percy waited until the girl was unbalanced. "Salt Bolt!"

A fist of weighed salt launched itself toward her head. It was his most efficient spell. Percy had practised the incantation until he was out of mana, his lips bled, and his tongue was raw and parched.

"Shield!" The girl did not appear to have formalised instruction beyond mandatory vocational training. Her Water Shield was paper thin, barely a membrane of semi-opaque liquid.

His bolt cut through the girl's shield, scalping her shoulder. "Arrrrrrgh!"

In a blind panic, she charged him. Percy sidestepped, too well-trained to fall for such a bullish assault. He tripped the girl, seized her skeletal wrists, twisted her arm, and then sent her reeling toward the floor, where her profile connected with the brickwork.

The fluid motion was almost subconscious, resulting from Guo's relentless, repetitive training. As his grandfather said, "If you need to think about how to defend, you've already lost."

With the girl on the floor, he drove a knee into her back. The girl screamed and coughed, struggling to breathe.

"Are you a spy?" he asked. It was a stupid question. He wasn't that deluded. Rogue Mages were not unheard of, especially in the frontier.

The Chinese government conscripted children from the NoM masses every year by the tens of thousands, throwing them into training to create fodder for the insatiable revolving door of the District Militia. Those who survived and thrived were then relocated to the military. Those who proved a little more talented than mana batteries became spell fodder on the Northern Front. If so, knowing that one's demise was inevitable, desertion should be no surprise to anyone.

A Rogue Mage, then. No wonder the poor tramp lived by herself in an old, worn-out temple.

"Oi, are you a Rogue Mage? A deserter? Answer me! What are you doing here?"

Now exposed under the bright light of the moon, he could see the girl more clearly. He could see that she was bleeding. A shallow wound was caught between the folds of her torn shirt. Furthermore, blood seeped from her nostrils and the corner of her lips where her face had struck the floor.

He knelt. Not knowing why, Percy dabbed a digit into the girl's wound, touching the scarlet gauze and rubbing the hot, sticky glob of gory ejaculation between his fingers.

"Arrrgh! It hurts! Please! Let me go. I'll do anything, anything," The girl moaned.

Percy felt a rush of blood to the head. Reflexively, he gripped the Kirin pendant with his off-hand. For Percy, the stone had become a fetish, one he found himself holding whenever he felt anxious or unsure.

I should finish her. She's a Mage, and she saw me use Necromancy.

But she's innocent, his rational half protested. It's human decency to show mercy.

No! The girl's a deserter! She will die sooner or later anyway; the punishment for desertion was a televised execution.

Percy bemoaned his fortunes. Just his luck to run into a deserter. Who the fuck hid in a hollow statue?

He thumbed the Kirin pendant. As the girl's blood smeared across its surface, a discolouration polluted the purity of the Kirin Core's lamb-fat complexion.

Percy tucked the pendant beneath his shirt. He took a deep breath.

He wondered how many people Gwen had killed. Dozens, probably.

"If I let you go, if… who's there?"

Creak.

The sound of rusty gates opening from afar punctuated the tranquil air.

Shit! Percy's ears perked. Does she have allies?

"Lifan!" the silent girl suddenly began to scream with a vitality that surprised Percy. "Lifan! Help me! He's got me! He's an evoker!"

Percy placed a hand over the girl's head, then pressed her face into the pavement, silencing her with a resounding crack!

A spell came to his lips with unerring clarity. "Drain Life!"

The girl's face contorted with agony. Her gurgling scream ceased as though a faucet had been shut. What little vitality had remained in the girl's battered body filtered into the Kirin Amulet, then circulated into Percy's body.

Percy's hand came away with a fistful of greasy, rancid human hair. In the undulating ecstasy of the life drain, he had pulled at the girl with more passion than he had intended.

He caught his breath as it ripped from his chest in rags. The communion between himself and the amulet was like nothing he had ever felt. It was as though the Kirin Core had finally become one with his flesh and accepted him as its sole Master.

With renewed vigour, Percy gripped the deserter girl by the back of the neck.

"Drain Life!"

But there was no more euphoria to be squeezed from the limp and flaccid carcass. The vagabond was dead.

"Shit." Percy stepped back, feeling hungrier for his unexpected satiation. Like a man who'd just finished an astonishingly appetising entrée, he was now lusting for the main course.

Gods! He felt invigorated! He felt invincible!

No, more than that. Percy turned his mind inward. Something had changed.

It was different this time. Different from when Percy had worked the ritual with only the pendant.

Unlike his once-timid sister, he had been trained within an inch of his life since he had exhibited the promise of magic. He knew his body and his capabilities like the back of his hand.

Seeing that no intruders had come to rescue the dead girl, he turned his mind inward, searching through his sigils until he found the source of the disturbance.

"Shield!" A Salt Shield sprang into existence. Percy retracted it.

"Shield!" A semi-dome shield was erected around his person, semi-transparent and glittering with blue-white crystals.

Abjuration. It was an Abjuration Shield.

A wild fancy came to Percy. A puzzle piece had fallen into place.

An epiphany. EUREKA!

"So that's how she did it!" Gwen had six Schools of Magic.

SIX MOTHERFUCKING SCHOOLS! And two elements! From none!

But they weren't hers. She had stolen those schools, just as he had done now.

Stripped them from her victims' astral souls, pilfered via illicit magic. That selfish, immoral whore! She must have figured out a way to abuse the Songs’ Necromantic legacy!

"HAHAHAHA! I KNEW IT!" Percy paced back and forth, shaking with uncontrollable glee. "Gwen! GWEN! Gwen! You knew the whole time, yet you kept it all to yourself. You bitch! You selfish, conniving little shit."

Was this why men like Kilroy and Shultz lined up at her door? Had they thought she was a one-in-a-million genius? A Meister in the making? The fools! If only they knew!

Who else would know?

Jun. Uncle fucking Jun. Percy saw the way Jun had looked at Gwen. He had heard him say that he wanted a daughter on multiple occasions.

That was the reason he had gone on the trip with Gwen. Her Kirin must have something to do with the cannibalistic powers of the amulet. Maybe it could consume demi-human magic as well. Or Transmute their souls? Uncle Jun had his half of the amulet!

And Guo as well. What was it that the old man had said to Liu? "If a single one of your clan's juniors can best Gwen, I will join the House of Song wholeheartedly to your faction. Your grandchild, male or female, will become the inheritor of both our houses."

Guo had gambled his—Percy Song's future—on his sister! HIS SISTER!

A FUCKING GENERALIST! THE BASTARD! That decrepit, senile old bastard! HE WAS THE FUCKING HEIR! To think he had trusted the old fart with his future.

"Shield!" Instantaneously, his shield sprung into place.

It was not a dream. The shield was real. He had plucked Abjuration from the Rogue Mage! He was sure of it! For months, his Abjuration had lingered at a pitiful index of 0.45. From what he could gauge now, it was at least tier I!

His new magic proved it.

He had always known that Gwen had cheated and now he had found her out.

Most importantly, now he could catch up to his sister fair and square. If she could drain hapless Mages in District 109 to account for her lack of talent, then so could he! If he could attain her level of power—no, if he could surpass her power, where would it take him?

To what heights could Percy Song ascend? Magus Percy Song? Magister Percy Song? The greatest was behind!

"We're alike now! Hahaha!"

Not knowing why, he kicked the girl's body, sending her tumbling into the headless statue, shattering its terracotta exterior.

"Gwen! I am going to catch up! We're going to be together. One way or another!"

In the middle of his euphoria, there here came another rude interruption.

"WHAT IN MAO'S NAME DID YOU DO TO LI-HUA!"

Percy curbed his manic passion. He's been expecting their visitor.

A haggard-looking woman stood by the doorway, a shattered bottle of alcohol rolling at her feet.

"What did you do?" she uttered in disbelief and shock. The woman saw her companion's goose-skinned, saggy corpse draped over the statue like a ragdoll.

Percy circulated a full contingent of Salt-tinged mana through his body, supercharging his physical attributes. His heart hardened like Elemental Salt, desiccated of all pity.

"Oh no." The woman swallowed, stepping back, trapped between fleet-footed flight and bewildered intoxication.

Percy took a gander at the intruder's paralytic panic. Who'd have thought he could affirm his hypothesis so soon? A sadistic, uncharacteristic cruelty touched his lips as though dredged from the darkest depth of his soul.

"Oh no?" Gwen's little brother sniggered. He was fully willing to sacrifice a little integrity to advance the human knowledge of Spellcraft, not to mention he was performing a social duty.

“OH, YES…”

End of Vol 5

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Glossary

Sanctioned Schools of Magic

(Sigils by Lampshade)

Evocation

The most commonly awakened school in modern Spellcraft, Evocation is a school that manipulates energy. Evokers become the mainstay of the citizen soldiers, wielding spells of Fire, Earth, Water and more exotic elements such as Lightning or Radiance.

As Evokers mature, they become more specialised in a particular elemental affinity, taking up specialist equipment, attunement and contract spirits. In the media and propaganda, the Evoker is the archetype Mage, the spell slinging, fireball blasting sorcerer of yore, tapping into and drawing limitless power from the elemental planes.

Abjuration

Abjurers weave spells that protect, block, dispel or banish. An Abjurer is a common but highly sought after profession. Abjuration makes shielding stations possible. An Abjurer possesses the unique ability to utilise restoration spells such as De-curse and the ability to dispense protective AOE combat buffs. Specialists in this field typically contract elementals of earth, ice and water, all of which are relatively common.

Conjuration

Conjuration is a school that materialises creatures or materials for the caster. A Conjurer becomes a one-man army after mastering higher tiers of magic. Through familiar rituals and/or contracting magical creatures, Conjurers gain lifelong companions that grow with the Mage in power. Due to this advantage, it is not uncommon for Summoners to become several magnitudes more powerful than Mages of equal tier. The disadvantage of Conjuration is the persistent mana drain caused by most of its sustained effect spells and crippling loss of combat potential to specialised Abjuration such as Banish. Certain Conjurers choose to focus on the summoning of items or beings. These valuable individuals are also responsible for the teleportation circles around the cities.

Divination

Diviners reveal information. They are highly prized for their cognisant abilities in detection and foretelling. Many Diviners go on to become telecommunication specialists, becoming key intelligence and strategist operatives who serve a multitude of critical roles. Other schools of Divination focus on disaster deterrence by reading the threads of time and fate.

Despite their lack of offensive capabilities, it is said that the most influential Magi on the United Nations Council is the Oracle of the Acropolis. Though the Divination school has no preference for elemental afflictions, it is a school that synergises well with subsequent studies of other schools. Many Diviners go on to become Magus or Magister.

Enchantment

The school of Enchantment remains the most difficult and expensive to train of all schools. Capable of imbuing items and buildings with protection, strengthening materials and extending persist phenomena, Enchanters are essential to humanity’s cities. The world's most successful manufactoriums and artisanal workshops are all operated by skilled Enchanters. Unlike regular Mages, many Enchanters seek to master additional schools such as Transmutation or Abjuration for the creation of magical items. A dangerous school within-a-school of Enchanters are those whose abilities allow them to control, manipulate and glamour the minds of others. Mind Mages are closely watched by government forces for the misuse of mind-altering effects on others could lead to life-imprisonment or banishment.

Illusion

Illusion is the magic of mirage, the altering of perceptions to create false visions. Many Illusionists go on to become involved in espionage if they choose the path of the militant. Many others, however, have elected media and entertainment, creating spectacles for adoring audiences, becoming superstars of immense prestige. Illusion spells which deal damage attack the mind directly, creating what is known as psychic feedback.

Transmutation

Transmutation is an unusual school in that it changes the caster and the objects they touch, manipulating the properties in powerful ways. In the present world, Transmuters become builders, architects and creators, working hand-in-glove with Enchanters. In combat, some Transmuters choose to specialise in manipulating life itself, changing plants, creatures and even themselves to become deadly and proficient in the art of war. It is said that Transmuters possess the most versatile school of all and enjoy the most lauded status after that of Evokers. An overall well-rounded School of Magic.

Biomancy

The Clerical School of Healing Magic has always existed in human history in one form or another. Some say that this was the original “school” of magic. In modern Spellcraft, Clerical magic exists between Conjuration and Evocation and is considered a hybrid school of magic. Exclusively, Biomancy requires mages attuned to the Positive Energy Plane. The combination of Healing Magic and Positive Energy often shrouds the Biomancer with a “halo” of sorts.

Necromancy

The dreaded School of Necromancy was banned after WWI following the Geneva Convention. Currently, the school is studied only by sects authorised by the U.N., arguing that the study of souls and the afterlife is inseparably connected to matters of faith, culture and religion. For many scholars, the irony of the matter is that Necromancy is most likely the most ancient school of magic in the world, dating back to the Egyptian pharaohs, in an age when man first uncovered magic. As such, it is more accurate to say that the summoning, raising and animation of the dead is strictly forbidden, as much of the old world turned into ash and cinder following The Great War with the Undead.

Other Schools of Magic likely exist but lie beyond the reach of the ordinary Mage. These include Faith Magic, ancestral worship, old world shamanism, naturalism, animalism and so forth. By the same measure, rumours of humans learning the magic of monsters, magical beings and Demi-humanoids, or Demi-humans learning human Spellcraft abound.

Elements & Elemental Magic

The Prime Material Realm

The primary elements of the material plane are what astrologists propose our world is made from. It is the very stuff of existence itself, existing in perfect harmony. It is suggested that when a Mage is attuned to a certain element, it is because an excessive element is present within their body. Though exceedingly rare, there exist individuals who are born capable of tapping into all four ary elements, becoming mages capable of manipulating wood and other natural phenomena, hypothesised by eastern Spellcraft as an individual element.

Prime Energy Planes

The Positive Plane—The Plane of Positive Energy is a place of pure life force. It is where the healers draw their power to heal and mend one's broken bones. The undead are fearful of this energy and the unwary caster should be as well. Too much positive power without the ability to channel it may lead to strange mutations and cancerous tumours.

Negative Energy—Where Positive is life, Negative is death. The undead are tethered to this plane, drawing their undead lifeforce from this domain. When living creatures utilise Negative energy, they suffer Negative drain—rapidly diminishing vitality. In the old days, the Mage world saw the Negative energy as just another source of power. After WWI, Necromancy became highly controversial, gaining a dangerous reputation as a forbidden craft.

Prime Elemental Planes

Earth—Earth is one of the most useful and common elements awakening in human Mages, it is the element responsible for most of our industry, mining for mana crystals, building our cities and so on. It is said that one-fifth of Mages awaken as Earthen Mages.

Air—The Elemental Plane of Air, as the name suggests, is a place of gases and open space frequently filled with thunderstorms, blizzards, microbursts, tornadoes and all manners of interesting weather phenomena. Of the four common elemental affinities, Air is the rarest.

Fire—Fire is another common element Mages manifest. Ancient legend has it that Fire was stolen from the gods themselves. With Fire, man has created many useful tools and beaten back tides of monstrous creatures. Fire is another common element for Mages to possess and the mainstay of Combat Evokers, Transmuters and Conjurers.

Water—Assumed to be a near-infinite volume of water, this elemental plane is pivotal to the survival of modern magical cities. The plane provides human cities with its supply of fresh water. Likewise, human cities pump their wastewater back into the elemental plane. It is theorised that the oceans are directedly connected to this elemental plane. Water affinity is exceptionally common among coastal communities.

Para-Elemental Planes

Ice—Ice is the most common para-element to Awaken in Mages. It is a supremely useful element that creates drops in temperature, being a combination of Air and Water. The Plane of Ice is said to be a tumbling expanse of frigidity with islands of glacial ice. Ice provides good defensive and offensive capabilities, as well as chill and slow effects against water-based enemies.

Ooze—Ooze is a stranger element, scarce and virtually non-existent outside of isolated magical bloodlines. Ooze Mages are specialists, depending on their school, with spells that focus on entrapment, debilitation, poison and other strange and mysterious effects.

A speciality of the Ooze Conjurer is the ability to summon creatures that exist within that elemental plane—Oozes. It is theorised that some oozes are virtually indestructible except by other specialist Mages. Ooze is a combination of Water and Earth. Mud is a derivative of Ooze, though far closer to the Elemental Plane of Water than true Ooze Mages.

Magma—The Magma Mage is unique indeed; a rare combination of Fire and Earth. These Mages are typically found where there are volcanic islands or fjords. Their power combines the physical prowess of the Earth Mage with the damage potential of the Fire Mage.

Smoke—Smoke is the marriage of Air and Fire. Smoke is an element that is said to only exist in legend. Very little is known about Smoke Mages or the Para-Elemental Plane of Smoke.

Positive Quasi-Elemental Planes

Mineral—Mineral Mages take their capabilities from the form of specialised mineral or metal to which the caster is attuned. As such, the element creates distinct abilities that differ from Mage to Mage. A Mage capable of summoning volcanic stones, for instance, would generate obsidian shards which are brittle and fragile but possess dangerous offensive capabilities. Jedite Mages create powerful super-dense defensive layers. There are rumours that King Midas was a Gold Mage.

Lightning—Existing between the Air and Positive elemental planes, Lightning is the most penetrative of all elements due to its electrical nature. Lightning causes stun and paralysis, in addition to manifesting instantly and delivering payloads in a fraction of a second. Lightning Mages are preferably Evokers, Conjurers or Transmuters. The Quasi-Elemental Plane of Lightning is said to be a place of plasma, ozone and endless thunder.

Steam—Where the Positive and Water elemental planes meet, one gets Steam. Steam is a rarely seen element. Only a handful of Mages are on record as having tapped into a Goldilocks zone where two elements meet in harmony. There is little known about the plane and its elementalists.

Radiance—Radiance is formed from Fire and Positive energy. Often mistaken for the power of Light. In theory, it should be useless—too scattered to be used offensively, too dispersed to be used defensively. It takes a special Mage, therefore, to change something so immaterial into a powerful projection of destruction.

At a certain intensity, Radiance is capable of melting through solid steel, boiling blood, searing flesh and severing matter. Not much is known about the Elemental Plane of Radiance.

Negative Quasi-Elemental Planes

Ash—A derivative of Negative Fire that manifests corrosive ash and black flames, Ash is the most destructive element in the array of elemental planes. Ash Mages rarely live long, as the element eats away at their minds. It is said that Ash Mages exist as tortured existences whose ruinous powers wrack their bodies with unbelievable pain. If one is Negative drained by an Ash Mage, one loses one's seven emotions and six desires.

Dust—Dust is the most stable of the Negative quasi-elements, next to Salt. It doesn't have any offensive capabilities of its own but enjoys the same corrosive ability drain as Ash. The most annoying part of fighting a Dust Mage is their ability to deaden all elemental damage. Due to its abrogating nature, Dust consumes Fire, Water, Air, Lightning, even Ash. It is said to be the most stalwart Abjuration Affinity next to Mineral.

Salt—Salt is a stable Negative quasi-element with the additional ability to form into a range of crystalline shapes. It's capable of dealing extreme damage to Slimes and Oozes, as well as an assortment of creatures composed mostly of water, including humans.

The desiccation caused by the Salt Mage draws out elemental water from the bodies of their enemies. Elemental Salt is different from mortal salt, found in oceans and sometimes in rocks. It is formed where Negative energy and Water meet. Salt is the least destructive of Negative quasi-elements.

Void—As the name suggests, the Elemental Plane of Void is a place of vast, perpetual darkness where strange, forgotten things lurk in a vacuum darker than black, always hungering. It is a plane consisting of the very idea of nothingness, a place where forgotten things end up. When manifested in the material plane, Void consumes matter, then disappears. Like Steam and Smoke Mages, very little is known about Void Mages. Arguably, the most famous Void Mage in Modern History is Elizabeth Sobel.

Spellcraft and Metaworld Lexicon

Astral Body—The cognitively generated projection of one's connection to the Multiverse, visualised via indoctrinated Spellcraft. Typically manifests as a humanoid silhouette with abstract details pertaining to the user's sigils and elemental affinity. Elements are perceived to be within the astrophysical body, while sigils manifest externally. Only Mages possess astral bodies.

Physical Body—No matter how powerful a Mage may be, they are still biological creatures that need to eat, crap and sleep, subject to Eros and Thanatos, life and death. The physicality of a Mage tends to reflect the degree of their elemental affinity. Most infamously, Earthen Mages have rock-hard physiques, Air Mages are frail and flighty, while Lightning Mages have quickened metabolisms.

Anima (Animus) —Drawn from the theory of the Meister Sigmund Jung, the psyche, the anima (male psyche and common vernacular) and animus (female psyche) inference a being's subconscious self-awareness. Only sapient creatures are classified as capable of possessing anima and animus.

Mana—The gurus of Hinduism refer to this as spiritual energy or Prana. Chinese Doshi denotes this spiritual energy as Qi. Early western theology referred to this energy as Faith or Zeal. Modern Spellcraft unified the term as mana, a generic word for mystical energies of any kind. The astral body produces mana as it interacts with Glyphs and gates, channelling mana into conduits of the physical body.

Mana Pool—The maximum amount of mana which a Mage can produce. When the astral body is no longer capable of producing mana, this is referred to as OOM or Out of Mana. VMI—Volumetric Mana Index—is the official nomenclature for measuring a Mage's mana pool.

Mana Channel—Often confused with the concept of a Mana Conduit, a Mana Channel refers to metaphysical pathways by which mana produced by the astral body enters the Mage's physical body. A Mage's Mana Channels can never be damaged without injury to their astral body.

Gate and Conduit—A gate refers to nomenclature describing the effect of non-elementally attuned mana becoming suffused with the Mage's element. This elementally-attuned mana then feeds back into the physical body. The pathways through the Mage's physical body are referred to as Mana Conduits. Damage to the physical body damages one's Mana Conduits.

Essence—A metaphysical form of energy derived from a being's existence. Referred to commonly as one's soul or spirit in ancient Spellcraft, contemporary Spellcraft sees essence as a hitherto little-known form of energy, separate from mana.

Creatures possessing great magical power and ego possess higher degrees of essence. Likewise, sapient beings typically possess greater essence than their non-sapient peers of the same subtype. NoMs, in general, possess little essence. human and demi-human Mages possess immense essence, a fact profoundly valuable to the study of Necromancy. Theoretical Spellcraft proposes that essence is tied to a Mage's ability to access particular Schools of Magic.

School of Magic (Imperial Metric Schools) —Since unifying the study of magic under the IMS during the Spellcraft Revolution at the turn of the twentieth century, seven Schools of Magic exist—Evocation, Transmutation, Conjuration, Abjuration, Divination, Enchantment and Illusion.

Hybrid School of Magic—Rarely, some Mages awaken with magic in between the Sanctioned Schools of Magic, belonging to no school. Of these types of magic, Biomancy, the manipulation of Postive energy and Necromancy, the manipulation of Negative energy, reign supreme.

Awakening—The term is loosely used to describe an Acolyte coming to terms with their first School of Magic and their affinity for an element. In Frontier cities, NoM civilians are filtered, with potential Mages tested for aptitude. In tier one cities, Mages naturally grow into their powers, training from an early age. A stimuli crystal may be used to induce an Awakening, circulating mana into the recipient as to jolt their astral bodies into existence.

Spellcraft—The study of magic. The Imperial Metric System (IMS) splits spells into nine Tiers.

Advanced Spellcraft Theorems—Spells whose theory and manifestation fall outside existing methodology. Most universities study advanced Spellcraft to push past the current boundaries of human knowledge of magic. Those who contribute significantly to this study are awarded the title of Meister.

Sanctioned and Unsanctioned Magic—Sanctioned magic may be purchased by Tower Mages with LDMs, HDMs and CCs. Unsanctioned magic may only be acquired through petition. If a Mage is found practising unlicensed unsanctioned magic, they are subject to severe punishments and even disbarment.

Sigil—A spiritual manifestation of one's affinity for particular forms of magic, tied to the generation of one's astral body during Awakening. Each School of Magic possesses a unique sigil under the IMS visualisation doctrine.

Glyph—Sigils exist only in one's mind. When Mages wish to manifest the concept of sigils externally, they turn to glyphs. Glyphs vary but may be thought of as symbols of power capable of channelling magical energy as though a man-made conduit existing outside the Mage's body. Magic items and enchantments such as wards rely exclusively on complex glyphs and mandalas.

Mandala—Originating from Tibetian mysticism, Mandala refers to large-scale, complex glyph arrays used to support complex Spellcraft manifestations.

Spell—A series of incantations both somatic and verbal which triggers magical phenomena when exercised with mana from a Mage's astral body.

Rite—A spell requiring time, preparation and setup. Typically includes meditation, ritual and complex external components. Rites include city-wide strategic-class spells.

Incantation—Invocations with somatic and verbal components. These are mnemonics which manifest magic through sigils. The higher the tier of magic, the more complex and convoluted the number of major and minor incantations. Senior and experienced Mages may specialise in particular spells so that they become “silent”.

Shield (Mage) —Shield refers to the mental ability of Mages to form a barrier of mana around their physical bodies. Even without training, Mages are capable of manifesting a membrane of mana projected just outside their physical body, which displaces hostile mana and foreign objects. Abjuration specialises in forming persistent shields and shields that can manifest on Mages other than the caster.

Acolyte—Neophytes and Acolytes are the colloquial names for beginner Mages. The moniker of Mage or Senior Mage is given to those with mastery over at least one School of Magic, meaning access to spells over tier IV.

Magus—A Magus is an arcanist who has gained multiple Schools of Magic through talent or laborious study. To be called a Magus in public, the Mage must undergo examination within a Tower.

Magister—Likewise, a Magister is a peer-reviewed, publically-sanctioned Magic Caster. Unlike the moniker of Magus, Magister is a title that comes with the weight of public service and responsibility of upholding the Tower's interest.

Meister—A Meister is a Magister, but not all Magisters can become a Meister. A Meister is a Mage who has contributed significant advancement to Spellcraft, and whose work benefits all of mankind. Claude Van Saint, the famous healer who pioneered modern magical medicine, is a Meister. Philo R. Farnsworth, the man responsible for proving that Illusions may exist as a form of media stored in capture crystals, is a Meister. As powerful as famous individuals like Henry Kilroy have been, his preference for keeping his studies wrapt and secret excludes him from the title of Meister.

Magi— A Mage whose power and command over Spellcraft exceed sanctioned limits, going beyond the nine tiers. A Magi rarely concerns themselves with worldly affairs. They are seen as humanity's greatest deterrence against demi-human and magical creature incursions. It is unfortunate that Magi are typically old and venerable.

Sanctioned Mage—A Mage registered under a Tower, beholden to its laws, codes of conduct, and ethics for the public practice of Spellcraft.

Rogue Mage— A Free Mage that is not registered, practices magic freely and therefore is perceived as dangerous to society.

Tier (spell) —Tier I to IX of Spellcraft. Tiers – I to III is accessible to almost all Mages. This tier is capable of combating individuals, as well as groups of Monsters. Tiers – IV to VI exists within the realm of all Maguses as well as most Senior Mages with a single School of Magic. This tier is capable of wiping out monster lairs and demi-human villages. Tier –VII to IX is open usually to Magisters for reasons of both academic access as well as state sanction. High tiers of magic can act as strategic class spells capable of wiping out cities.

Tier (Affinity) —The attunement of a Mage to their element. The higher the affinity, the higher the efficacy for damage and mana cost. As Affinity grows, damage increases by a magnitude of ten percent for every observable tier. Likewise, mana cost for spells decreases with higher affinity. Though damage increase appears to be on a linear scale, mana cost suffers from diminishing returns. As such, a spell will never be “free”.

Higher affinity likewise involves physiological and psychological changes for the Mage in question. Some examples are provided below, taken from the story-in-progress. Fire Mages are often hot-tempered and over-zealous, possessing a short fuse. Physiologically, they gain resistance to cold and heat. Air Mages become fragile and whispy, becoming airy and flighty in their mannerisms. Earthen Mages undergo the most profound physiological change, becoming taller and more robust, with enhanced musculature, increasing both strength and fortitude. Water Mages are known to be pliable and easily convinced, with personalities that like water, and are capable of fitting any vessel. Lightning Mages gain increased metabolism, becoming prideful and possessive beings. Ash Mages are known to become apathetic. Their emotions become dulled by the continued practice of Ash Magic until they waste away. Void Mages are rumoured to exhibit extreme hunger, both physiologically and in terms of their psychological demands. Ooze Mages are said to be slothful and lazy, unmotivated and uninspired. Mineral Mages become dispassionate and pragmatic, often their eyes take on the likeness of their attuned mineral element. Positive Energy Mages are ubiquitously known to be amiable, friendly and full of life and vigour, possessing a halo of likability.

Tier (Creature) —A generic classification system used in common parlance to ratify the danger level of a particular creature. Goblins usually have a tier of I. A raid of goblins may be up to IV or V, an adult dragon up to XI. A leviathan with a swarm of mermen may be up to –twenty-five to thirty, requiring the mobilisation of a Tower or Towers.

Class (Monster) —Military lexicon for the number of Mages needed to pacify a threat. Soldier Class infers a single Mage. Lieutenant Class infers the need for a Magus or two or more Mages. General Class requires a Magister. Usually, a party of Mages may subdue a Lieutenant-Class magical creature. A party of Senior Mages lead by a Magus may defeat a General-Class creature. Some creatures, such as titans (overlarge monsters) and mythics (land gods) are likewise a part of this denomination. Class systems differ from nation to nation and are not an official Tower designation.

Wildlands—Lands not occupied by human cities, separated into zones.

Green—relatively safe for NoM habitation.

Orange—unsafe for occupancy, safe for Mages to traverse.

Purple—dangerous for both Mages and NoMs, contains hostile creatures that will disrupt human habitation.

Black—extremely dangerous for human habitation. Zone includes creatures that predate on humans. Environmental factors may also play into codified zoning.

Demi-Humans—Humanoid races that share the Prime Material Plane with humans. Friendly species include Nordic and Bavarian dwarves, Celtic elves, German gnomes and hobbits from New Zealand. Hostile races include goblinoids, dragonoids, harpies, serpentfolk, merfolk, mermen (Oceanic), lizardmen, dryads and other sapient beings capable of speech. Like most magical creatures, these beings possess a core. Some demi-humans are capable of interbreeding with humans. The majority of human cities are highly xenophobic and racially homogeneous.

Magical Creatures—Creatures generated by nature where the veil between the prime material and the elemental planes are weak. Current theory infers they are elemental creatures that manifest into the Prime Material. Magical creatures possess cores, which are condensed mana that serve as the anchor of the creature's essence to the prime material, giving it life.

Cores (Creature) —From the lowest Gobs to the highest ancient dragon, all magical creatures possess cores. Upon death, the core shatters, releasing the wild energies contained within. Interesting fact—ancient creatures have highly condensed and compact cores that are virtually impervious to damage.

Spirit (s) —When a creature possesses a high level of anima, its core may contain a spirit. Spirits are potentially found in all forms of creature cores, though typically, it is exceedingly rare amongst lower order magical creatures. For spirit-Seekers, the irony lies in that billions of low-tier creatures exist with a lottery's chance of possessing a spirit. While beings with a high probability of retaining a core upon death, as well as possessing both ego and anima, are exceedingly rare, they are more often than not incredibly powerful.

Spirit (Mage) —Mages dream of augmenting their elemental powers with a spirit. A spirit may be acquired through directly killing and harvesting cores, then bending the will of the anima of the creature contained therein to the mage's service. When successfully attuned, the spirit is absorbed into the Mage's astral body, becoming a part of the Mage's ability to channel elemental powers.

The alternate method of gaining a spirit is through taming existing magical creatures and opening one's astral body to the foreign spirit. This methodology is considered highly irregular and potentially fatal for an unsuspecting Mage incapable of melding with the entity.

Familiars—Typically, the Conjure Familiar spell is responsible for bonding elemental entities to a Mage's psyche or anima. Such creatures are manifested from the psyche of the caster. When a spirit is partnered with the Mage, the anima of the spirit usually takes the form of the familiar. When a spirit is bonded with a Mage already in possession of a familiar, it usually subsumes the form of the familiar and replaces it with its own. It is not known if familiars can become spirits through gaining ego and animus.

The Frontier—Originally a term denoting cities which were cut off from logistical support after WWII, the term has grown to encompass all human territories lacking geodynamic ley lines. Some Frontier cities such as Merauke, Darwin, Chittagong and Izmir are little more than human havens eking out a living in the wilderness, serving as little more than trading ports and supply stations. Prosperous Frontier cities such as Sydney, Singapore, Naples and Las Vegas, have a quality of life nearing tier one cities in all but name, lacking the geography, natural resources and political power to ascend into the status of a tier one city. With exceptions akin to continental hub cities like Singapore and Istanbul, the vast majority of Frontier cities have limited access to Spellcraft and Magitech.

Tier One Cities—Cities built around powerful convergences of ley lines are considered tier one cities. These cities have the near-perpetual energy to supply to their internal and external shielding stations. To apply for tier one status, a city-state must pass muster with the Commonwealth Towers, joining the network of tier one cities.

Shielding Station—A stationary mini-tower built to withstand the elements, manned by abjurers and a patrolling team of Mages. At the heart of the shielding station is a Resonance Crystal which projects a frequency harmful to all beings possessing cores that are not attuned to a Mage. A Shield Generator Tower creates the resonance, visually manifesting as a shimmering wall or barrier, and additional, smaller station refract the shielding.

Tower—A robust structure with inbuilt Enchantments. A Tower can vary in size, function and power. In most cities, the Tower functions as a way-station, a bastion and a nerve centre for all magical matter. Even the most basic Tower includes the ability to amplify the manifestation of Spellcraft of its stationed Mages, the levitation of its structural body, long-distance teleportation and displacement, and the ability to act as a mass-communication Divination array. A tier one city's ley lines usually provide power to the Tower. For Frontier cities with limited geodynamic supplies of mana, a significant cargo of HDMs is required.

The Towers—The United Nation Council of Towers (UN) refers to a coalition of all Towers from around the world formed after World War II's Beast Tide. Akin to the UN in Gwen's old world, the Towers sanctify and ratify the regulation of Spellcraft, the status of city-states, and mediate the conflicts of interest between human nations.

Tower (Commonwealth) —Towers belonging to the old British Mageocracy, said to have conquered more than fifty percent of all human lands in its golden age. The Commonwealth forms a loose factional coalition through a shared ideology of social democracy, English as a primary language, and mutual defence pacts.

Tower (Independent) —Towers not beholden to any specific faction and are wholly independent (on paper). Singapore, Istanbul, Tel Aviv and Hong Kong are examples.

Tower (State Owned) —Towers that are a part of the global network of towers but are beholden to their city-states or nations. Almost all non-independent towers belong to this category.

NoMs—Non-magical human beings, also derivatively known as No-Magic. In the Frontier and tier one cities, NoMs serves as a labour force. The majority of NoMs work in agriculture and manufacturing, with a small percentile working in administration and other white-collar positions. Most NoMs, whether because of indoctrination or the social climate, see the possibility of becoming a Mage or introducing a Mage to their bloodline to be a way out of a life of oppression, poverty and mediocrity.

House (Mage) —A bloodline of Mages usually with a powerful or influential progenitor. A House usually includes three or more generations of Mages. A Branch House is when a potential heir, usually a sibling, starts a new House with the same bloodline.

Table of Contents

- 1. Balance in All Things
- 2. Rest and Relax
- 3. Of Peaches and Men
- 4. Shadows on the Wall
- 5. For Thou Art with Me
- 6. This Far, No Further
- 7. Nighthawks
- 8. Great Anticipation
- 9. No Mitigating Nourishment
- 10. Nothing Quite like Loneliness
- 11. Pinky Promises
- 12. Detours
- 13. Laughing the Night Away
- 14. Tempus Fugit
- 15. Hai Five
- 16. Goats and Monkeys!
- 17. Frogger
- 18. A Model of You
- 19. Bush Meat
- 20. Happy Campers
- 21. Come A-Waltzing Matilda with Me
- 22. Her Beauty and Her Terror
- 23. Silencing the Lamb
- 24. Karma Comes Calling
- 25. Millstone
- 26. Calamity Gwen
- 27. Truth will Out
- 28. A Series of Unfortunate Events
- 29. The Black Goat
- 30. How to Make Gravy
- 31. Confessions of a Dragon-Kin in Hangzhou
- 32. How Much do I Love Thee?
- 33. How to Fold a Paper Tiger
- 34. Whetting the Appetite
- 35. The Undertow
- 36. Stick in the Mud
- 37. Curtain Call
- 38. Interlude -
- Thank You
- Glossary
- Elements & Elemental Magic