-oOo-

  Chapter 14

  -oOo-

  For the first time in twelve months, the sun had set.

  Darkness drenched the world. The sky was filled with sparkling stars and shadowy clouds. A great moon sat on the horizon, casting the ship’s deck in silver light. The pale, celestial body was pock marked with visible craters, reminding Sylvia of Luna back home.

  On most planes, the sky was no more than an illusionary echo. A remembrance of the frame from which the ethereal realm was wrought. Earth held life for a billion years. In that time, countless souls had passed into the nether. Their thoughts and expectations had shaped all six-hundred-and-sixty-six planes.

  Below lay a city lit brighter than the night. Orasul Lunii. Long, winding streets were illuminated by lamp posts. Ether light orbs shone in front of houses and shops with a spattering of festive color. The roads throbbed with life. People were bustling over the smooth tile in thick crowds. The largest city in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness had swelled with the onset of the Festival.

  Boom. P-pop, pop.

  The sky flashed. Sparkling fireworks cascaded, light flickering on the ship’s sails. Below them, faeries danced. Their fluttering forms high above the rooftops, shedding glitter and pulling stunning streamers. Melody hung in the air, still faint and distant. An orchestra playing for the masses.

  “The music is my favorite part.”

  In the shadowed moment, Ingrid appeared. The succubus leaned against a rail next to Sylvia. Her ruby eyes looked down at the city, wistful.

  “When I lived in Helheim, come the festival the streets would fill with song. It was magical. A band on every corner. Shopkeepers would sit outside their door, playing instruments for the crowd. Even the passersby would casually join in. An old plane has old demons. Everyone there knew how to make music. Some would even take the time to teach us.”

  The purple haired woman showed a small smile, turning so she faced Sylvia.

  “Slave. Criminal. Prostitute. It didn’t matter. Not during the Festival of Light.”

  “Miss it?”

  “Helheim?” Ingrid questioned. “No. It was cold, dark, and miserable. I have too many bad memories of that place. But the Festival of Light here just can’t compare.”

  “Right now, I’m glad for the dark,” Sylvia commented. “I used to be fond of the cold but….” The silver-haired witch looked down at her body. “I had a lot more fat on me back then.”

  Though not quite so much hanging off her chest.

  Ingrid huffed a laugh, her ruby eyes dancing.

  “Do me a favor and give big tips for the whole of Men-Lux.”

  Sylvia raised a brow.

  “Hell has an ancient law that no one can be forced to work during the festival or the month that follows,” Ingrid explained. “To comply with the law, businesses pay their slaves. It was the only time I could get money. So it’s important to me.”

  The purple haired succubus pushed off the banister. Ingrid walked away, her alluring rear showing a perfect sashay. Sylvia snuck a gander at the woman’s sexy legs and killer heels.

  “So, what’s the best thing to do during festival?” Sylvia asked before the succubus could leave.

  Ingrid’s head turned, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes held a strange smolder.

  “Well, there was a tradition among the girls at the brothel. Every festival we’d go out and take our pick of the men.” Ingrid’s smile was sly and smoky. “If you want to join, I can show you the ropes.”

  Sylvia’s expression turned uncomfortable. Nearby, the cheeks of a petite brunette puffed angrily.

  “Mmm!”

  “I’d rather not,” Sylvia answered quickly, and not because of Emily’s prompting.

  “To each their own,” Ingrid said easily. She paused, shifting her hips sexily. “A bit of advice. Don’t be a prude. It’d be a shame if a girl as beautiful as you never indulged.”

  With a slight smirk, the succubus left. Complex feelings roiled in Sylvia’s heart.

  “Sylvia’s not a prude! She’s pure,” Emily argued angrily after the demoness.

  …

  Given the piles of porn Eric had consumed, Sylvia felt she was very much the opposite of pure.

  “Where’s Riley?” Sylvia asked, changing the subject.

  “She was too excited and took off on the second boat,” Emily griped. “Kyna flew after her.”

  That sounded like Riley, alright.

  Sylvia’s gaze swept the deck. The tender drifted away from the ship, carrying the succubus to the field below. Lady Vallenfelt remained at the helm, in deep discussion with the ship’s captain. A heavy chest lay at her feet. In it were the phylacteries of each tournament participant. A jar containing their mortal ashes which served to accelerate resurrection.

  It was also a fatal weakness to any witch.

  Sylvia was a little nervous to have hers removed from the Academy’s well defended grounds.

  The ship’s deck was quiet and empty. Of the fifty students that boarded, seven remained. Professors Wright and Fischer had already descended to wrangle the witches and keep them from running off. Now there were only the stars, the moon, and the creak of wind and wood.

  A sharp division from the festival playing out below.

  “The boat left,” Sylvia commented. “At this rate, we might be the last ones down.”

  “I don’t mind,” Emily said sweetly. She joined the silver-haired witch by the rail. “It’s very pretty up here.”

  “It really is.”

  Sylvia gazed at the infinite stars. A bright swath cut across the sky, filling it with milky light. Having lived in the city all his life, Eric had never witnessed such a celestial phenomenon. She wondered, was it like this on Earth too, far away from the urban light?

  At that moment, she regretted her failure to explore the world in which she’d been born.

  Then, her pastel pink eyes trailed down. A sudden, crazy idea popped into her head. She trembled. Fear. Frenzy. The world seemed to spiral beneath her, primordial terror clawing at her gut.

  “Want to do something insane?” the silver-haired witch mustered.

  Emily’s pure, emerald eyes met hers. In them twinkled a galaxy of stars cast in shadowy green. “Is it fun?”

  “Maybe.”

  Sylvia reached up, grabbing a rope to stabilize herself. Then she jumped. She landed atop the rail with stiletto heels. If she were a human, it would be a challenge to stand with such precarious footwear. With the waltz of flowers, her ki flowed, grasping the wood with invisible petals.

  She released the rope, fighting against the rising panic. She was stable. She was stable. With her ki, she’d always be stable.

  It helped.

  A little.

  But if Sylvia stood for another minute, she was sure she’d vomit.

  Leaning down, Sylvia offered Emily a hand.

  “How adventurous,” the brunette breathed, reaching up to take it. “So wha – eeaaa!”

  Sylvia hoisted Emily onto the rail then promptly jumped off.

  Arm wrapped tight around the petite girl’s waist, the two of them plummeted. Cold wind whipped clothes and dress. Sylvia held onto her hat by gluing it to her head with a flow of ki. Energy whirled in her body, blossoming in a shower of petals.

  The deep dive slowed to a quick descent. Emily sank into Sylvia’s arms. The silver-haired girl adjusted her posture, so her body led at a twenty degrees angle. The brunette’s weight pressed into her own.

  Emily tightened her grip.

  As the fear abated, the brunette peered around, eyes filled with the dazzle of pink petals. Sylvia blushed. She could feel Emily’s warmth. Her soft body. Her trust. She could only hope the brunette didn’t notice the signs of Sylvia’s interest.

  “■■, ■■”

  Sylvia whispered four syllables. The spell, feather-light, wrapped the pair of them. The fall slowed into a magical drift.

  It was dark. Just the wind, the stars, and the celebration below. The ship was a dark shadow overhead. The city of lights beneath spread its arms in embrace.

  “Fun?” Sylvia questioned, breaking the quiet.

  “No, it’s lovely,” Emily breathed in wonder. Then she squeezed tighter. “But, hmph! That was mean scaring me like that.”

  “I was afraid I’d lose my courage,” Sylvia admitted. “■■, ■■.” Wind ether gathered. She renewed her spell.

  With the waltz of flowers, Sylvia could walk on air, if her strength attribute was ten points higher. Right now, it was all she could do to slow her fall. As for carrying Emily? That was impossible with the potency of her ki. But what the art could do was control their flight, allowing them to remain upright in defiance to wind and gravity.

  “Mmm, you’re afraid of heights.”

  Sylvia set them into a slight spin. The land beneath swirled, taking a full minute to complete its circuit.

  “■■, ■■. It’s not so bad when I’m in control,” Sylvia professed.

  “If only I knew the waltz of flowers,” Emily mused, dreamily. “Then we could dance in the starry sky.”

  “Which dance are you thinking?” Sylvia asked, letting the brunette float a bit to indulge her. “The high seelie caper?”

  Emily giggled. “Mmm. It’d be so romantic. Two magical princesses waltzing in the night, surrounded by a swirl of flowers.”

  …

  Sylvia’s eye twitched. She was suddenly reminded of how girly the waltz of flowers looked.

  The two of them drifted down. Soon, Sylvia could see the witches gathered. Life breathed ether, casting out wisps of energy. A faint illumination, caught by her pure starlight eyes. It made it seem as though her fellow witches were haloed by magical beauty.

  Finally, they landed.

  Emily let go, emerald eyes shining in the dark. The brunette stepped away from her. Sylvia immediately felt the night’s chill replacing Emily’s embrace.

  “Next time, we’ll dance,” the brunette decided with a gentle smile.

  “Sure.”

  Sylvia found she wasn’t against it. How could she say no to a girl as cute as Emily?

  “You two!” An angry blonde growled, pushing through the crowd. “How dare you jump off the airship without me!”

  There were a few giggles from the surrounding witches. Sylvia looked around to see several beautiful ladies peering in their direction. Feeling uncomfortable under all their scrutiny, she decided to trudge to where the greater crowd was gathered.

  The grounds they had settled on belonged to Baroness Vallenfelt.

  Orasul Lunii was the center of government for the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. Two to three months out of the year, the nobility would be summoned to Castel Lunii to hold court. The nobles, of course, would not deign to live in a shabby inn or tavern.

  Thus, the noble quarters.

  Seven barons and a score of devils owned property here. The streets were patrolled by Viscount Vilhelm Codrin’s vampires. Vallenfelt’s lands covered five acres enclosed by brick wall. The mansion was kept by Zoe Marshall, one of Lady Vallenfelt’s retainers. Zoe was the witch responsible for the baroness’s local interests.

  “I think Riley gave us her answer to the question: If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?” Sylvia joked, once the attention wavered.

  “Mmm, mmm,” Emily sounded in agreement.

  “Ha ha,” Riley fake laughed. “Don’t think I’m going to forget about this.”

  “You’re the one who ran off without us,” Sylvia retorted, rolling her eyes.

  “Tell me you had fun on my behalf,” Riley pleaded to the brunette.

  “It was magical,” Emily breathed, pressing her hands together. “I think Sylvia’s girly heart is blooming. I’ve never done something so romantic in my life.”

  With a teasing smirk, Riley’s bright green eyes veered to the silver-haired witch. “You might be onto something there.”

  “Tch, there’s no such thing,” Sylvia retorted. She patted her hat twice in emphasis. “See. I’m wearing my newsboy cap today. News-boy.”

  Which was proof that there was nothing feminine about her. It was even a nice, dark navy that matched her school robes. Not a single touch of pink on it! Perfect proof of her inherent masculinity.

  “And you look so cute in it,” Emily praised.

  “Like a teen idol who screwed up her disguise,” Riley commented, twisting the knife.

  Emily giggled.

  Sylvia lifted her nose, ignoring the ignoble traitors she called friends. Try all you want, after twelve months of charm club, she was immune.

  Immune.

  Not corrupted. Immune.

  “Ladies! Ladies!”

  Professor Wright shouted, summoning a circle of witches around her. The brown haired professor looked over the group, waiting for the last few stragglers.

  “I know everyone’s excited,” Abigail said as the desired quiet set. “But first, I need to lay down a few rules.

  “Always travel in groups. The locals don’t ascribe to the same rules of harassment you’re used to. Sticking to a group will help discourage incivility. On that note, juniors, I want you to pair yourselves with a senior at all times. Seniors, do me a favor and keep an eye on your juniors.

  “Next, nightclub rules apply here. Keep an eye on your food and drinks. On Earth, they have rohypnol. In the netherworld, they have love potions. We have starlight eyes,” Professor Wright reminded, pointing at her own. “Check everything for psychic energies and don’t accept random gifts and especially don’t wear anything offered by a stranger. Magic tools are expensive, but they are also a lot more subtle.”

  “Lastly, I want you all back here an hour after the festival ends. We’ll do a head count in the morning and Professor Fischer has promised to kill anyone who shows up late. And I’m pretty sure she means it.”

  Oh, she meant it. Glenda definitely meant it.

  “Enough talk,” Professor Wright declared, clapping her hands. “School is now officially adjourned. That means you’re free to run wild and wear whatever you want. Go. Have fun. Enjoy the Festival of Light. But don’t forget to watch out for each other.”

  The crowd cheered. Riley joined in with her own whoop. The boldest girls began to strip on the spot. Sylvia’s eyes went wide, shocked by the audacity.

  “Mmm,” Emily hummed with annoyance. “Shameless.”

  Sylvia coughed and pointed.

  Riley was no less daring. The freckled blonde peeled off her navy blue robes then threw on a new dress.

  “What?” Riley questioned.

  Emily’s cheeks reddened. “Riley is such a tomboy,” she stated. “Thu-ma-hu…”

  Mist shrouded Emily’s embarrassed form, conjured by her short chant.

  “She says that like it’s a bad thing,” Riley groused, not caring that the brunette was in earshot. “You going to change?”

  Riley was wearing a black dress with green trimming. Emerald earrings twinkled on either side of the blonde’s face. Her chin length locks delivering messy elegance. Beneath, were black leggings that clung tight, showing the curve of her calves. A pair of green ankle boots finished her ensemble.

  “I already did,” Sylvia said, proudly patting her newsboy cap.

  “Surprised you didn’t lose the shoes.”

  And challenge Lady Vallenfelt’s authority? Sylvia sneered. Did Riley think her a fool?

  “Accept it, you’re shorter than me.”

  “I have two inches on you,” Riley growled.

  “My head is higher than yours,” Sylvia sang.

  For a period, the height of Riley’s heels had chased after her own only to sink back to a sensible seven centimeters a month later. Somewhere along the line, the blonde realized that she wasn’t willing to wear shoes tall enough to surpass Sylvia's inflated height.

  “Tada!”

  The misty veil parted. Emily twirled. The brunette’s uniform had been replaced by a frilly, yellow dress. The hem ended just above her knees, her legs covered by white stockings. On her feet, Emily wore a pair of blocky heeled mary janes adorned with adorable bows and ribbons.

  The outfit was completed with a white witch’s hat, the cone wrapped with yellow ribbons then augmented by a puff of flowers.

  The brunette stopped in a pose, her shoulder-length brown hair teased out in cute perfection.

  Sylvia flashed a thumbs up. “Nice hat.”

  “He he,” Emily laughed happily, tugging at the brim of her hat. “Ah! Where’s your dress. You said we’d wear matching dresses.”

  “No. You said we should wear matching dresses,” Sylvia explained slowly.

  “She also scoffed. Loudly,” Riley supplied helpfully. “And you look adorable.”

  “I wanted to look adorable with Sylvia,” Emily complained, her dark emerald eyes gave the silver-haired witch a gaze of utter betrayal.

  “I’m not falling for it,” Sylvia deadpanned.

  Sylvia had already given Emily her grand moment. If she yielded an inch, Emily would take a mile. Then, the next thing Sylvia knew, she’d be wearing a pink magical girl costume with her hair tied up in cutesy, girly-girl twin tails.

  The silver-haired witch shuddered.

  The real horror, though, would be if Lady Vallenfelt saw it and loved it. If that happened, Sylvia would be dressed like that forever.

  “Enough talk,” Riley cut in. “I want to see the festival.”

  “Mm,” Emily hummed in agreement. “I’ll dress Sylvia up tomorrow.”

  On those ominous words, the trio set off.

  Once they escaped the noble quarters, the streets were bustling.

  Denizens of Hell flooded the causeways. Beast-kin were in abundance. Hogmin pressed through the throng. All manner of demons were seen. Those with scales, fur, and feathers. Many indistinguishable from humans, others sporting additional limbs and features.

  Vampires and werewolves were common. Orasul Lunii was home to the blood sucking beasts. The werewolves flowed in from the southern city of Loge Sombre. Rarer were the oni and ogres, their heads well above the press. In the distance, Sylvia even spotted a lone cyclops wading through the crowd.

  Booths lined the main thoroughfare.

  Sylvia happily emptied her pockets.

  The silver-haired witch feasted on treats while Riley emptied a bottle of beer, against Emily’s scolding. After being cajoled by the brunette, the two of them tried their hand at a few carnival games. In the end, it was Emily who won all the prizes.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Finally, the three of them gathered at the square.

  Music filled the air, magnificent yet solemn. Wooden stands had been erected to hold the orchestra. Demons carried a dozen instruments, playing in unison. Three witches flew above, weaving magic to amplify the notes, sending the echoes throughout the city. The sound of the symphony reverberated through Sylvia’s bones, filling her body with melody.

  “I miss music,” Emily murmured.

  The brunette spoke as the band fell into interlude.

  “I know what you mean.”

  Every week day, morning and night, listening to the radio. Music was everywhere in the modern world. Eric had listened to it while playing games on his computer. He heard it on TV and in movies. It was there when he ordered food at various restaurants.

  Omnipresent.

  The absence was like a deep, hollow pit. For all its wonders, the netherworld lacked so much of what the material had in abundance.

  “What about you, Riley?” Emily questioned.

  “I miss a lot of things. League games. Showers. Family.”

  “I want to take a bath,” Emily sighed. “Warm water. Clean skin. Relaxing while the heat takes away all your worries.”

  “I want to take a shit,” Sylvia said bluntly.

  The brunette’s nose scrunched. “Ew.”

  “No really. A few days ago, I had a dream where I was on the toilet. I’ve had the urge to use the bathroom since.”

  Riley punched Sylvia in the arm. “Don’t you dare talk about it.”

  “Right. Beat those disgusting boy thoughts out of her,” Emily said, shaking her fist adorably. “Sylvia is too cute to use the bathroom.”

  Riley was happy to oblige. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Sylvia ignored her. Without ki, the repeated thuds were less dreadful than the threat of tickles.

  Phuit phwoo!

  A wolf whistle interrupted her thoughts. Sylvia looked back to see a scaled man openly leering at her ass. Soon, the demon vanished into the crowd. Mood soured, Sylvia spoke.

  “Let’s go back.”

  “At least this time he didn’t try to talk to us,” Riley agreed. “But yeah, I think I’ve had enough partying for the night.”

  “It’s because Sylvia’s shoes are too naughty,” Emily lamented. “The boys can’t help but go wild for her.”

  “It’s not my fault they were picked by a succubus,” Sylvia grumbled.

  “Don’t complain to me about heels until you’ve spent an entire night in them. On Earth. Where they hurt,” Riley sniped.

  Sylvia gave the blonde a glower. Emily giggled at her plight. Tilting her head, the brunette set a cheek in her palm while gazing at the silver-haired witch’s rear.

  “They do make Sylvia’s legs look very sexy though,” Emily pondered. “If only they were pink. And had cute ribbons and bows.”

  Friends. Sometimes they were the worst.

  The streets grew quiet as they left the Festival of Light behind them. In the air, fireworks popped and crackled sending out sprays of colorful embers. The airship had long left, heading toward the city’s docks. As they stepped through the gates of the mansion, they spotted a few witches heading back out.

  “Tournament in the morning,” Riley reminded, slapping her on the shoulder.

  “After Sylvia tries on her armor,” Emily inserted. “Mmm. I can’t wait. You’re going to be the cutest girl in the tournament.”

  “How bad is it,” Sylvia squeezed out, looking at the blonde.

  Riley’s smile was smug.

  “See you in the morning,” the blonde said, turning to leave.

  Emily giggled then waved. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Sylvia.”

  The silver-haired witch raised a hand in her own goodbye.

  The trio split. Riley and Emily went to the guest house. Alone, Sylvia headed toward the mansion.

  The mansion was lit with a welcoming yellow light. The interior was rich. Vases of flowers. Paintings. Couches and lounge chairs. There was even a small library for the guests to peruse. After querying a maid, Sylvia headed to her room.

  It was big.

  A king-sized bed dominated the center, huge compared to Sylvia’s mortal form and even more so to the tiny body of a witch. The door to the side led to a closet, in which she found several dresses. One in particular caught Sylvia’s eye. It was a frilly, pink dress adorned with black ribbons. Beneath were a pair of pink, platform heeled mary janes set to match the ensemble. On the shelf above was a witch’s hat, the cone wrapped with ribbon then augmented by a puff of flowers.

  The silver-haired girl stared. She scowled. She slammed the door closed.

  Sylvia dropped onto her bed heavily.

  Seconds ticked away. Silent. Empty. Sylvia felt a stab of loneliness. The room lacked the liveliness of girls preparing for the night. The changing of clothes. The conversations. The rustle of covers and the silly arguments. There was neither a gentle brunette nor an energetic blonde.

  How long had it been since Sylvia had a room to herself?

  Twelve months and a lifetime ago.

  “I’ve changed.”

  Sylvia fell back, gazing at the ceiling. Eric had always been alone. Sylvia had never been. Not really. Not even now. Her friends were just a building away. They’d be there in the morning. For the tournament, win or loss. They’d be with her next year and the year after.

  Maybe they’d still be with Sylvia when the storm took the nether.

  That dress….

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  A question cast into the void and left unanswered. The person wasn’t here. Even if they were, would she dare to say it?

  Sylvia’s stomach twisted.

  Time was ticking away. The decision loomed before her. Could she face her master’s clone and speak the truth? Once the deed was done, Sylvia’s life would change. Relationships and priorities would be re-sorted. These days at the Academy would be gone forever.

  Then again, if things were as Sylvia suspected, the same would occur regardless of her actions.

  “Fuck,” she cursed, sitting up. “I’m going for a walk.”

  -oOo-

  Orasul Lunii was a beautiful city.

  Vallen had a small town feel, the wealth concentrated on the main street and the Academy. The rest of the city was a mix of middle and low income housing. In comparison, Orasul Lunii was rich in art and architecture.

  Stone houses fit in neat rows, sporting ether light lamps. The illumination fell upon the stone walkways, giving a bright cheer that fought against the gloom of night. Here and there were small parks with fountains, benches, and the occasional statue. Small gardens of trees and flowers were set around, bio-luminescence fighting against the dark.

  Sylvia traversed the back roads, avoiding the hustle and bustle of the festival. A few pedestrians wandered here and there, some drunk from the night’s celebrations. So far she’d avoided harassment, perhaps because of the staff she held in hand.

  Weapons were always a fine deterrence.

  In the distance, the orchestra played. The sounds were muted, characterized by faded cheers and chatter.

  Orasul Lunii was a sleepless city. The Academy had its bell, classes, and curfew to hold its witches to a schedule. The capital had no standardized frame. In a space of forever night and eternal life, time slipped away easily. The denizens slept and worked as they willed, with the slaves expected to fill in the gaps.

  Today though, all were drawn to the capital’s core. So the emptiness of the side streets was especially deep.

  Sylvia came upon the docks.

  There was no water, no river, and no ocean. The wharves extended into the starry void, juts carrying their own weight. Three astral ships were at port, their silhouettes like that of a fish crossbred with a boat. Fifty meters inland, stone arches rose. On the flat top, four airships were anchored. At each tower’s base was a wooden elevator. Hand cranked to hoist or lower passengers and goods.

  The netherworld used ships for bulk transport. Airships carried materials between cities. Astral ships hauled goods between ports planar and interplanar.

  These ships could also carry passengers, subject to local laws and statutes of course.

  Walking along the harbor, Sylvia peered with curiosity. Instead of sails, the astral ships bore tails and fins. The witch knew from her reading that they swam as much as sailed through the starry void using the magics of space instead of wind.

  Drawn by her fascination, Sylvia walked onto a wooden pier. With each step she could feel the ether density drop. The primordial elements grew thinner while the density of chaos rose precipitously. She gazed, for a moment, into the abyss. The shimmering stars below were half hidden by the white ripples created as the bottom of the plane brushed across Unus Mundus.

  Chattering voices called her attention.

  “Don’t be stupid, girl. Nothing good is happening if you hop a ship to another plane.”

  Looking past a few crates, Sylvia caught a pair of sailors confronting two witches. The girls in question had dumped their Academy uniforms, but Sylvia recognized them in an instant. Classmates. The blonde, Valerie Baker. Next to her was Margret Rivera with pale green hair that all but shone white under the moon’s light.

  “We can pay!” Valerie insisted.

  “What’cha going to pay? A few hundred soli. You think we’d be takin’ a risk on a couple of runaways for just that?”

  The speaker was a dog-eared sailor. He had dark, mossy green hair. Ruddy red splotches covered the man’s skin. Beast-kin. The lack of symmetry was a dead give away. The demon’s chimerism was clearly derived from the beryl blood wolf.

  “We could make a hundred thousand if we sold the two of them once we reached the other side,” the second sailor mentioned, voice urbane.

  The second sailor was a catman. Black fur covered his face, eyes blue and slit. They gleamed against the night. The catman played with the knife in his left hand. All ten digits were present, following the human norm. The skin was pale peach, with dark fur growing on his forearms.

  “’Xactly. If we be riskin’ illegal passengers, then why not be sellin’ slaves?” The dogman tapped the side of his skull. “You gotta be thinkin’ about these things.”

  Valerie deflated.

  “Th-thank you,” Margret said politely.

  “No need be thankin’ us doll. Just setting you right.”

  Whoof, whoof. Heavy wings beat. A birdman descended, landing on the ship’s rail. The newest entrant had talons instead of feet. His wings were white. The feathers bled into red as they spread up his back, transforming into a mane of hair. The birdman’s face was human, though his nose was long and hooked resembling a beak.

  “What’s going on around here?”

  “These two girls were trying to buy passage,” the catman explained.

  “Chenzira wants them gone,” the birdman said.

  “You heard ‘em,” the dogman spoke up, directed at the witches. “Scat before you get into real trouble.”

  Margret and Valerie started to scurry away. Feeling the situation was resolved, Sylvia turned to head off too. Before she could make it a step, the birdman suddenly spoke up.

  “Wait. Those two weren’t poking around the ship, were they?”

  The two girls froze.

  “We didn’t,” Valerie said quickly. “We only stepped onto the deck when looking for someone. Not even five seconds.”

  “Five seconds, huh,” the birdman questioned. His head turned. “Where did you see them?”

  “They were shouting hello near the cabin. We sent them out before they could touch anything,” the catman said, sheathing his knife.

  “Y-yes. We only saw your lamp collection in the cabin window, it was very….”

  Margret trailed off. A deathly silence hung in the air. The catman stood. The dogman’s friendly expression vanished. The birdman’s eyes were as cold as death.

  “You saw the lamps,” the birdman said.

  Margret took a shaky step back. Valerie stepped forward, defensive.

  “It’s just a few lamps. What’s the big deal?”

  “It seems you girls are in luck,” a new, deep voice interjected. A tall naga slithered off the deck, his humanoid top armored with bone and leather. Instead of legs, his bottom was that of a scaled serpent. “You will be traveling with us, free of charge.”

  With a terrifying smile, the naga drew a lamp from his soul. No wick. No light. The lamp was nothing more than a glass orb set inside a wrought iron cage. At the top was a chain so that it could be hooked to a belt.

  A horrible, sinking feeling grew in Sylvia’s gut.

  Shunk.

  In a blink, the naga drove a gladius straight through Valerie’s heart. Ki blasted through her demonic core, spreading through her torso. Blood essence crumbled. The blonde jolted as though electrocuted.

  Still not understanding what or why, the two witches stared in shock.

  Then, Valerie’s body unraveled. Without essence, flesh dissolved into mist. Mist scattered into ether. She fell, her foundation so ravaged her corpse dissipated into motes before it touched ground.

  A second later the lamp lit, filled with a soft yellow glow.

  Oh fuck.

  Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  It was a soul lamp.

  Known for their light and appearance, soul lamps were the netherworld’s answer to demonic immortality. Ordinarily, a soul would sink into Unus Mundus before being drawn to its anchor. Invisible, intangible, and untraceable. It was difficult to stop a demon’s resurrection. Given form by their code, they were immortal creatures in the truest sense of the word. Demons knew not age, nor disease, nor the touch of death. Even without a resurrection pool, a soul would slowly aggregate the resources necessary for rebirth.

  In such a world, how could the law enforce its justice? How could the creditor make the debtor cough up his cash? How could an immortal be strong-armed into obeying the rules?

  By threatening the soul itself.

  A soul lamp was a tool which manifested the soul then trapped it in a cage of metal and glass. Thereafter, the captured demon could be dealt with at the lamp owner’s leisure. The soul could be forced to anchor at new points. Cursed objects could be slipped, victim unwilling, through the soul's outer membrane. The lamp itself could be cast into the starry void to be carried away by the currents.

  For a demon, only that which touched the soul was truly feared.

  Soul lamps were controlled objects. The common lamp could be bought by licensed hunters, but those could only capture loose souls which lacked the depth of code. A ‘black lamp’ was needed to seize the soul of a proper demon. This equipment was tightly regulated. Simply possessing one without a permit was highly illegal.

  Which meant these ‘sailors’ were criminals of the highest order.

  With a slow, casual ease the naga hooked the lamp to his belt. The gentle illumination, reflected off his sword. In a macabre way, the glow matched the festivities.

  “The lamps, as you might have guessed, are quite a big deal,” the naga continued conversationally, drawing a second lamp from his soul. “But don’t take my word for it. Here, I’ll let you experience one yourself.”

  System, purchase feature: Observe Opponent.

  Sylvia had no time to waste. With a thought, she burned 200 merit points. A blue window flickered, appearing as an icon at the corner of her vision. The System grasped her rush.

  There was a three-second delay, then text appeared over the heads of the sailors. C-I/High, C-I/High, C-II/Low, C-II/Mid. The labels were colored green, green, yellow, and orange respectively, indicating the strength of her opponents.

  This was the netherworld’s Class/Rank system. A technical measure of strength based upon the flux imposed upon the world by a creature. Class related power to mutation and consolidation, while rank defined the relative strength within that classification. This much Sylvia had been taught during Armed Combat.

  The silver-haired witch let out a breath of relief. No Class III or greater demons. In theory, she should be able to handle them.

  “W-why,” Margret tried to say, backing away.

  The naga didn’t answer. Shink. His sword swept through the witch’s neck. Her head spun through the air, pale green hair fluttering like an angel’s wings. Her body fell. As it crumbled, Margret soul was sucked into the second cage filling it with pale green light.

  Quietly, Sylvia chanted. “■■ ■■, ■■ ■■.”

  One plane of ice formed after the other. Sylvia drew the water ether from her palace, weaving it with the wind stored in her staff. She had to be careful. Ether drawn from the world created a detectable disturbance. Mages were at their weakest when ambushed.

  And they were also the most horrifying opponents when completing one.

  “Take a look around,” the naga ordered. “I don’t want any more surprises. And block all the windows in the cabin. I don’t want a repeat of this catastrophe.”

  “Yes, Chief Chen – ”

  Sylvia stepped around the crates. Her staff crackled with electricity. “– ■.” The last runes of her spell fell from her lips. White light flashed. Lightning split the night. The streak jittered, crossing the ten-meter gap before piercing the highlighted weakness between the naga’s hips.

  Bang!

  The serpentine core splintered.

  “■■■.”

  Three syllables followed while the group stood stunned. Fourteen runes melted into mana natured by earth. The ground rumbled. A tsunami of dirt exploded from the wooden docks, swallowing the three sailors.

  Earth bulwark was a defensive spell. Its function was to erect fortifications and enact control of the battlefield. It could be easily shaped into a wall, dome, or anything in between.

  It could also be used as an impromptu prison.

  The dogman and catman dove to the side. Too late. Mud and rock flowed over their heads, sealing them in. The birdman was a step faster. He leapt back. With a beat of his wings, he blurred out from under the wave. Separated from the three, the naga, Chenzira, staggered.

  A single second was not long enough to recover from Sylvia’s strike.

  Sylvia tilted forward, then dashed.

  Ether churned, drawn into her staff with great gulps. Ki flashed beneath her feet. She charged forward, a wake of petals behind her. One step. Two steps. Runes were drawn in her mind, cast into the world by way of her lips.

  “■■, ■, ■.”

  Three blades of wind rippled. The first crashed into the gaping wound between Chenzira’s hips. Dense air cut through ravaged flesh. The fractured magic expanded, tearing through the naga’s guts. Blood essence ruptured. The demon’s sputters drained into death.

  The remaining blades went high. They curved in toward the birdman, forcing him into an aerial dance.

  Sylvia spun past the collapsing naga. With her left hand, she ripped the soul lamps from the naga’s belt. As she turned, her heeled shoes landed on the earth bulwark. Her legs compressed.

  Then she jumped back.

  A lance of air exploded against rock. Magic tore through stone and dirt, earth evaporating as the elements earth and wind canceled. A second lance fell from above, targeting the silver-haired witch. Sylvia caught it with one of the two frost shields she’d prepared. A single crack spread through the ice. The birdman fell from the sky like a meteor. His spear smashed into Sylvia’s defense.

  Chink.

  Only to be stopped cold.

  “■■, ■, ■”

  Leaning on her most familiar spell, the silver-haired witch released three more blades of wind. The birdman jumped back, a single beat of his wings sending him two meters into the sky. His spear spun, swiping through condensed air with contemptuous ease. Sylvia sent the other two spells into a nasty corkscrew curve, before dashing toward the end of the pier.

  A catman shot from a pool of shadow.

  “■■~■.”

  A dagger flashed toward her neck. Sylvia caught it almost lazily, wrapping the sailor’s arm with a sudden wall of water. Then, with a casual flick, the water shield exploded. A fluid pillar flung the demon off the wharf’s edge and into the starry void.

  Nice try, but with her pure starlight eyes his ambush was as stealthy as a torch in the dead of night.

  Crack!

  As her foot landed on stone, Sylvia’s frost shield caught a hammer of wind. The damaged frame shattered, sending evanescing shards scattering. In the brief second, the birdman had cleared all three wind blades. In the next, he flickered forward, spear at the fore.

  Chink.

  Only to glance off Sylvia’s spare shield. The shock made Sylvia slide, but with smooth expertise she transferred momentum into motion. Her second frost shield remained, ready for the next strike. At the same time, Sylvia chanted, ten meters from the alleys.

  “■■■ –

  Electricity crackled. The birdman aborted his charge, flying for cover.

  Too late.

  “ – ■■!”

  A bolt cut the dark.

  Every element had its use. Lightning was famed for both its speed and power. The spell streaked through the night, traveling a kilometer a second. Far slower than physics demanded. Far faster than the amped up reaction speed of a demon.

  The birdman jinked. Lightning jittered. Magic was driven by intent. Sylvia could hit a bullseye one-hundred times out of a hundred.

  On a still target anyway.

  The last second dodge threw off her aim. Instead of passing through the System highlighted weakness, the bolt hit the birdman’s right wing. Space shattered. An invisible barrier broke. Electricity ripped through flesh and feather like a hungry beast.

  The blast threw the birdman into a wild spin. Sylvia ignored him in favor of the stirring shadows.

  The catman leapt from a pool of darkness. His dagger glinted white, surrounded by a shell of steel ki. Shink. Sylvia’s frost shield met it.

  The tip punched through. Hardened ice peeled away as the catman drew back his dagger. The demon dove to her left. With a twist and a skip, Sylvia turned, pointing her emptied staff in the furred man’s direction.

  “■■”

  Wind tore through darkness. The catman melted into the black, flowing like fluid to her opposite side. Sylvia spun, skating across stone as though it were ice, a trail of petals dancing behind her.

  “■”

  A second wind blade. The catman dodged. Without missing a step, the silver-haired witch dove into the alley.

  Shadow paused at the entrance.

  Alone in the dark, Sylvia continued her flight.

  -oOo-

  Lightning Bolt

  Runes: 31

  Mana: 50 to 150, 1/5

  Attack: 200 to 500

  Penetration 50 pierce, 100% multiplier

  Max Range: 1500 meters

  Velocity: 1000 m/s

  An attack spell that touches upon the threshold of advanced magic. The dense rune structure allows for a stable bolt with long range, solid penetration characteristics, and flawless accuracy. In most scenarios, a lightning bolt will not miss so long as the target remains within the one-degree cone of redirection.

  Unlike its more advanced formulations: lightning lance and chain lightning, lightning bolt splinters upon hitting its target. This means it lacks the ability to cleave through multiple foes. A skilled enemy can take advantage of this, intercepting the spell so that most of the power is lost.

  Like most fire derived spells, lightning bolt has poor efficiency and a high ether ratio. Only 20% of the spell’s cost must be paid in mana.

  Wind Blade

  Runes: 12 initial, 7 chain

  Mana: 20 to 40, 1/3

  Attack: 140 to 220

  Penetration 30 pierce, 200% multiplier

  Life: 1.5 seconds

  Velocity: 50 m/s

  A simple attack spell that forms a blade of wind. The rune structure provides a certain degree of sharpness, but if the armor is too thick the blade quickly loses its power. The greatest strength of wind blade is its agility. The blade has enough curvature to complete a full circle every half second, meaning it has the potential to hit again even after a miss.

  Wind blade is a chain spell. The first rune formation creates a simple ring that supports shorter incantations for any repetition that follows in the second after. This makes the casting speed quite high when launching multiple blades.

  Wind blades home according to the caster’s intent. No mental effort is needed. Additional direction can, however, improve the spell’s performance.

  Frost Shield

  Runes: 19

  Mana: 20 to 50, 1/3

  Hit Points: 160 to 280

  Defense: 100

  Duration: 60 seconds

  Creates a floating shield of ice. The size of the shield is slightly larger than a kite shield, but smaller than a tower shield. The shield is transparent, allowing the caster to see through it and track their enemies. Frost shield is innately animated and can be positioned anywhere within two meters of the caster. It is fast enough that it can shift from front to back in half a second.

  Compared to water shield, frost shield is harder and longer lived. However, its crystal structure is somewhat more fragile. Further, it cannot be chained into water burst. For lower level foes, the increased hardness means substantially improved performance. Against stronger opponents, frost shield may underperform water shield.

  Water Shield

  Runes: 10

  Mana: 10 to 60, 1/3

  Hit Points: 120 to 420

  Defense: 0

  Duration: 20 seconds

  Creates a floating, amorphous, barrier of water. The spell can be stretched into multiple shapes but cannot provide an effective defense for an area larger than a kite shield. The spell is transparent and can move quickly, intercepting attacks from front to back in three-quarters of a second.

  Water shield can be chained into water burst, a 3 rune construct that provides shock and knock back. This is also a highly effective parry technique. Most low level spells lack a solid runic structure and thus will fracture upon forceful contact. Higher grade spells might endure, but risk being deviated by the burst.

  Because of this, water shield remains a highly prized counter spell even for high level mages.

  Earth Bulwark

  Runes: 14

  Mana: 25 to 100, 1/3

  Hit Points: 300

  Defense: 100 to 250

  DR: 0% to 15%

  Duration: 10 to 40 minutes

  Summons mud and dirt to create a fortification within ten meters of the caster. This can be in the shape of a dome, wall, or other simple structures. This spell does not require that earthen materials be present in the area of the casting. Rather the necessary dirt emerges from the earth as a figment. Earth bulwark cannot float and will fall or crumble like any compressed earthwork once created.

  Compared to most low level defensive magics, earth bulwark lacks mutability and transparency. However, it is much tougher and longer lived. This means earth bulwark is by far the superior spell when generating cover for a cooperative team. It can also be used to temporarily imprison an opponent, provided the enemy is close and fails to evade.