---

Connie was much more focused on the wound she was tending to over the conversation. She caught parts of it. Enough to know that this accident had been caused by the book Cal had picked up. The book was their group’s mystery. Connie absolutely loved that her group wasn’t the only one risking death - sarcasm. She was pissed. Livid. True she didn’t know Cassie or Willow very well, but she was fond of Cal. Even Nicholas was endearing enough. They should not have been hurt. Especially not this badly. She could tell that she was not the only one who was angry. Even Nicholas and Barty seemed pissed. In a way she had not expected from the pair. That was interesting.

“Your hand was removed in a magical backlash. I couldn’t find it nor could I grow it back. I apologize. I will attempt, with help from Frankie maybe, to replace it with something suitable. That may take some time though. Hopefully it was not your dominant hand. Please eat something high in iron for the next few days as your body recovers. Also, please see Professor Ravoux to ensure everything has been done correctly, I will escort you there later. Now that you are awake I will tend to Willow.” Connie patted Cassie gently on the shoulder and stood up joining Barty at Willow’s side on the couch. Her voice was fairly flat, but she was attempting with her words to sound comforting. She held herself stiffly. As if she was trying to step away from the blood that had covered her during the process of healing Cassie.

“Barty, when I request it, please remove the shard.” Connie normally tried to avoid requests around Barty, Nicky and Finely. However, healing was the one area where she was in control. She was the only one in the upper classes with healing magic, and it had been her primary focus other than transformation magic. The two were close enough together as anatomy was necessary for both, that she had never felt stretched. She was painfully specialized in her opinion.

Again, Connie started chanting, the words belonging to a language she did not know. The words were different shapes than the ones she had used when healing Cassie, but of the same ancient tongue. The predecessor to several languages including her French and the Gaelic the Macleods spoke. These words spoke of diagnostics, of checking what was wounded, of sensing for unseen or unknown damage.

Connie’s magic sensed the poison. Her words shifted and focused on the poison, isolated it, then broke it down, neutralizing it. She gave a small sideways glance to Barty. Something only he would likely notice. Something that told him she had taken care of it.

“Willow, try not to breathe for a moment,” Connie requested before she returned her attention to the wound, her words changing slightly again. Her words now beseeching the wound to heal, to close, to knit the wounded veins and return Willow to wholeness.

The wound wouldn’t close. Her power pressing into it, but not knitting things together. Connie wasn’t sure if it had been because of the poison or because of the shard of magic, or worse her own magic failing her. She was afraid to have Barty remove the shard before the healing started to work. Afraid that Willow would bleed out if the shard was not there.

She reached deeper into her magic preparing to start anew and hopefully heal this wound.

---

“Hmm the lightning eyeballs would be very different from usual. The extra spark upon biting into them would be for a new sensation,” Finley commented as they started walking, nonchalantly, toward the cabin. Dysphoria did not seem to be stressed so they were unconcerned.

“Most do not appreciate being asked that. Though, she is a strange enough being that she may not find it as disturbing as others.” Finley stepped gingerly onto the porch, testing their footing ever so slightly before peering through a window to see what was inside the cabin. If there seemed to be a person in there they would be polite and knock. If not they’d enter.

Inside the building was a single open room. Finley smiled at the image of it. Reminiscent of the single family homes they had seen long ago. There was a metal stove, their smile dropped into a frown, a long pipe stretched into the ceiling. There was a lidded pot on the stove with steam curling out from under the edges of the lid. The fire was built up with wood. There was also a wood table, with three chairs - interesting exactly three - and three sets of porcelain tableware. In one corner of the room was a futon rolled up. From the ceiling several glass baubles hung. Finley assumed they may have magical concoctions within.

As they did not see a person, they went to the door and entered the building, not waiting for the other two.

---

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Jake was alone.

He did not mind it. He spent much of his short life alone. There was no one to talk to in the middle of the night when he could not sleep. It was part of what he adored about Frankie - that when the world felt small, his friend was there to brighten it and chase back the shadows and the cold. Any other moment, Jake would not have rushed off after Connie and Barty as they left him without a world, content instead to examine the change to his body - the light had dimmed away now and he felt much the same. He might have sat at the base of the statue and waited for them to return. But he felt something tugging at him deep, something intense and demanding and frantic.

He was needed.

S̴̷̸̛͖̖̖̼̭̭̭̰̟̲̬̮͓̤̟̼̼̗̝̀̎ͧ̒̍ͮ̇ͨ̎͛̀͊ͤ̋̃ͧ̓͘͘̚̚͢͟o̡̗͓̳̱̣̝͇͓̼̘͇̲̺͇̠͆́͌ͨͮͨ̂ͩ̄̂̒͒̿͛̍ͣͧ̎͞͠m̢̞̫̣̜͗͗̆ͩ̆e̴̢̦͓̣ͬͬ̓͊ơ̙͚ͩ̅̾͐ͬ͆̄͗̌̋n̖̣̂́͌̔̔ͪ̌ȩ̵̵̨̢͎͈̬̪̮̠͈ͪ̆͑̋̓̂̈́͂̾́̄ͅͅͅ ñ̝̙̙͐ͯ̕͝ḙ̸̢̛̥̟͚̙͉̟̰̗̳̫̩͖̜̗̘̗̻͈̽̋̾͛͋̃̽̎ͨ̀ͨ̈́̊̈́̊̀̏͑ͧͬͭ̚͟͢͜è̢̢̛͍͍̼̀̌̄̒̄ͮ̅͊ͤ̕͟ͅd̨ͣ͝_̛̛̜̘͔̬̝͔̺̟̞̯̫̲͆̀ͫ̽̓ͫͩ̅̊͂̅͊͆ͥ͐̈̎̚͠ͅę̢̛̞͚͓̜͚̭͕̞̻͖͔̦̭̼̱̣͍̟̓̐͐̇̍ͯ͑ͥͤͬ̽͛̐̅̆̔̀́ͨ̄̒͗̆͜͟d̦̪̲͔̈̓̑ͥ h̳̿̎̕͜ì̴̺̥ͬ_m̵̶̼͔̥̰̱̝̬̹͍͔̓ͫ̀͌̏̊̔̑ͤ̉̂͟͡

His breath hitched in his throat and the next thing he knew, he was rushing into Mikhail's office.

His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, his body stiff until it wasn't, slow until he was rapid, his face almost frozen in a single expression, before rapidly fear and concern rippled across his features. Nicky was unharmed and relief filled him, but that same driving force continued to prompt him, as he slid to a halt beside Willow. Connie was here - but something told him that Connie wasn't enough, as he looked on at the wound with someone else's eyes, someone else's fear. "I can," he hiccuped "fix this." He didn't know any healing magic, he didn't know what he was capable of - but certainty filled him as he knelt down next to Willow, looking at her injury and taking a deep breath, before he suddenly stilled.

He didn't flash with light this time nor did he dim - instead, he became transparent, translucent as a ghost yet still tangible. He didn't say a single word, didn't move, didn't have a single thought in his head as a tendril of pink-purple magic snaked its way out of the ground. It slowly slithered its way up Willow to her injury, before attaching itself to her and yanking suddenly, the wound transferring from Willow to the tendril. It snaked its way back to the ground, slipping between the floor boards, before vanishing from sight and color returned to Jake, sweat and exhaustion gripping him.

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"A̸̢̙̠̝̤̠ͤͧ̃̀͑ͯ̍̅̈́ͦ b͖̓h̷̛͔͙̦̪͚̼̼͈̬̖̮͓̦̳̟̠̃̓̊̾͋̐͑ͫ̍̌ͪ͑̓̇̀͛͂́̊̕̚ͅͅẹ̸̗̄̅͋̉̇͗͢i̴̪̓͞ļ̵̶̷̨̻̩̰̞̼̹̜̮͎̙̯̗͔̹̱͕̓ͮ̈́̅͂̐͒̑̐̔̂̉̋ͬ̀ͦ̌ͯ̈́̊̕̕͞͡͡ͅ t̻̙͋͊ͫ̉͘h̪̝̥̳͓͕̳͍̲͚̞͑ͯ̾̐ͤͮͩ͆ͪ́̉͝ͅu͓ c̨̙̞̠̮̬͎̠̘͗͆̇͊ͤ̇ͭ̄ͭ͜͠e͙͐a̴̛̜̹̮͔̫͚̰̞̥ͧ̎̀̏̑͆̉ͦ͐̔̊̿̕͟͞ͅr̸̡̛̜̠̗̣͚̠͔͙̯̜̖ͦ͛̎̋̆ͧ͛ͤ͗̆̃̈̈͊͌̾̌̏͑ͩ̀̒̈̕͘͢͟͠͞͞ͅt̸̵̵̢̤͙͙̘̘͈̣̹̲̼͍̝͍̹͇̲͆̅̽ͨ̐͒̽̄̇̊̀ͩ̏̾ͪͮ͛͒́̋̅̈͊̚͟ g̮u̞_̷͇̠̙͕̫͙͍̥̪͎̘̩̠̀̃͂͋͐̽̄̀̇ͩͭ͞ͅ l̛ͥ̍ͣͥ̚͢ȩ̷̡̠͕̫̑ͦ̈̓ͧͤ̄̌ͧ͜͡ò̸̢̢̨̤̫̟̫̜̱̲͇̬̩͉͈̥ͦͯ͒ͣͥ̇̅̌̀̽ͮ͛̀̀̃͐͛͋ͫͫ́̌͊͒͜͟͠ͅͅr̶͍̫,̷̢̡̡̨̰̤̬͈͎̩͇͈͇͑ͥ̆́͂̍̄̂̓̓́ͥ̇̊̾͋͜ P̵͕̹ͫͭ͌͝ą̻̦̪̮̼͈̺͚͔͔̀̏͊̎̽ͥ̕͢͞͝e̷̡̡͇̤͖̖̖̻̝̯̣͓̻̼̺̣̻̖ͥ̈́̅ͣ̽͂͒̓̃ͮ̒ͫ̊̌̕͜͟͜͢͞͞d̙͖̠̀ͮŕ̸̷̩̦͕̟̠͈̭͖̲̤̞̩̮̳̜̙̣̔̉̔̏̒͂͊̓̓́͑͂̈́̆ͦ̃̀͐ͨͨ͋͌̀̉͡ͅų̵͍̮̖̞̙̺̼̭̝͔͇͖̳̖͖̯̓̉̌͛̔ͭ̽̿̈́ͪ̊̍ͦ̇̔͘s̨̧̳͕̜̞̣̣̖̥͆̂ͩ̾̇̀̌_̛͇ͦ̒͊͒̅ͫ̔̓ͧͨͤ̚͟͝?͓̭̅ͫ̋̏ͦͦ͡_̦̮͔͊̎"


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Willow looked up at Barty as he came over her and offered him a small smile. "Long time no see." She muttered to him and chuckled softly, trying to get her mind off of the pain, and the liquid leaking down from her shoulder. Pain was nothing new, but there was so much else going on, and there was utter chaos, which felt apt. She was worried about Cassie, and she was glad that Connie was tending to her first. Her roommate, so kind, so tender... she was so glad that she knew her.

She let out a cry as he pulled out the shard, and pressed harder on the wound to keep it from bleeding more at that point. She let out several pained breaths, as she watched as Barty threw some herbs into his mouth and started to chew. She was familiar with this kind of spell work, as her Tia had done a lot of herbal spell work in front of her, but not quite like this. Usually she had used a mortar and pastel but the moment didn't call for those. They didn't have the time.

She hissed softly as the paste hit her bare skin and she looked at Barty. "Thank you....augh!" Something was wrong. It burned, and she could feel something fill her veins like it was trying to slither into her body. She gasped as Barty ripped the paste from her skin and hissed as something else was used to clean it quickly. It stung, but soon another paste replaced it and the bleeding was halted for the moment. At least she wouldn't lose anymore blood, there was that, even if the wound was still open... and something else was trying to harm her from within.

As Connie came over to her, she had to chuckle a bit. "Hey... Connie. Is Cassie going to be alright?" She whispered softly as she looked at her and leaned more against the couch. She watched as she worked with Barty, and closed her eyes, and bit her lip softly. She halted her breath as instructed and could feel the stuff within her veins start to dissipate. She let out a sigh and then gasped as the wound refused to close. Was... was she just going to have an open wound forever. She looked around in worry until...

"What the... Jake?" The savior of the day was not really the one she had expected. Luna's wings fluttered rapidly as he went translucent, and a tendril of magic appeared out of the ground, and then the wound transferred from her to the tendril before it slipped back between the boards. "...Well then... thank you. Uh... does anyone need help? Or do we need to still go hunting?"

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The space around Rohan seemed electric, tense with some unnamed entity. As the group started to inch forward, Annika’s eyes scanned the surrounding forest. It didn’t seem wrong to her, but she hadn’t seen this Rohan alert yet. Was this normal behaviour for him? Or something they all needed to be healthily aware of? Annika stepped closer to Rohan, looking over at him.

”What’s wrong?”

Once the group reached the cabin, Annika took in its surrounding structure. It was simply built, but Annika figured it was sturdy enough to withstand nature’s temperament. Nochella hovered at the door, pacing back and forth until Finley opened it. Nochella raced inside, quickly disappearing from view (which was interesting considering the home had only one room). Annika wasn’t concerned. Noch constantly explored and disappeared. She had gone weeks in the Everdark without ever seeing Nochella, only for the cat to appear on Annika’s headboard or lying by the fire. This behaviour was nothing new; besides, Noch seemed content to Annika.

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Cal cocked his head at Nicholas’ request. He frowned. Cal’s eyes drifted to the ice shard wedge that had penetrated the wall behind when Nick had been standing. His own shoulder throbbed from the memory of it, but it was nothing now. A combination of Barty’s magic with Cal’s own enhanced healing aided in the dragon’s well-being. He shook his head and nodded at Nick.

”Of course. Look after them, and a favour from me you will be owed.” He bowed his head slightly, out of respect and thanks, before Cal refocused on Willow. His nose twitched from the herbs Barty was reapplying to Willow’s wound, and he sneezed.

Cal growled at Barty, not happy with the witch’s tone or words. ”I will not have more of my coven come to harm because of that thing.” If his professor entrusted him with this task, then Cal would carry it through. He would glean what he could out of the wretched journal before he removed its vile filth from the earth.

The sound of a voice that had remained absent for too long finally entered the conversation. Cal shifted his attention to Cassie and walked over. He stood near her awkwardly, assessing his position before he knelt down. Cal looked at the missing hand before he rested a hand on Cassie’s thigh and met her eyes.

”Forgive me.” He scooped the girl into his arms and carried her over to Willow before he set Cassie down next to her friend. He leaned forward and kissed Cassie’s forehead before he stepped back, just as Jake entered the room.

Cal tensed as the strange boy reached the wounded of his coven. His eyes narrowed as he watched Jake fade slightly before his magic filled the space. Cal shifted his stance, half-blocking his two weakened coven members, but whatever occurred next led to more of Willow’s healing. He relaxed for only half a second when the boy spoke Gaelic. Fire erupted in Cal’s eyes. Only he knew of the twins speaking that language. Perhaps a few professors. But now this creature spoke to them in a language Cal considered sacred.

”What did he say?” Cal demanded, his fiery gaze trained on Nicholas. Cal remained standing in front of Willow and Cassie, refusing to let anyone closer to them. He could consent to Connie taking them to Ravoux, but no one else. Not now.

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Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia, Barty, Connie, Jake

The token caught Nicholas off guard. He expected a scolding at best from the shifter but his agreement had Nicholas’s magic whispering and in his palm, a gold disk with ouroboros lines around the edge shimmered into existence. Staring up at him was a dragon’s eye and when he flipped it to the other, a tendril pale blue smoke wound across the surface. Nicholas stared at it for a long few moments, before he tucked it into his shirt pocket above his heart. The bargain was struck, which meant now he was responsible for the fools Callaghan cared for so deeply.

His impulsivity got him into the strangest messes.

“Nach neònach am mearachd seo. Dè an seòrsa droch ghaoth a tha air do phlàigheadh ​​cho mòr, a bhràthair?” Nicholas sent to his brother silently, nearly taking a step forward to inspect Cassie’s stump after Cal settled her next to Willow but one strange event after another had him halt in his tracks. Jake entered as if he was besotted by drugs, the strange start and stop in all his movements erratic and alarming, and although his manner of assistance certainly lent itself to a few more creative corners of Nicholas’s mind, the simplicity in which he healed a wound Connie struggled with and then what stumbled from his mouth caught his full attention. Nicholas had watched the march of time longer than he cared for and he could not claim to have seen a wound simply taken, like it was a decorative adhesive the younger folk care for so much these days.

“Tha mi ceart gu leòr. Tapadh leibh airson ar cuideachadh. Is dòcha gum bu chòir dhut do chathair fhèin a lorg agus fois a ghabhail. Tha coltas sgìth ort, a charaid. Nicholas suggested, keeping himself calm as he did. His heart was racing at yet another person using that name, a name he’d thought struck from the annals of history when their village burned down and they’d scattered the survivors to the four winds but here it was, spoken as if it was not something that carried a power Nicholas would not care to offer another. He nodded at one of the now empty arm chairs for Jake to sit in and crossed the short space to Cassie, laying a hand on Cal’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly.

“Nothing threatening. He is a friend; the only thing that cares to hurt us now is the book in your pocket. But should your offer from last night still stand, I would avail myself to it at your convenience.” Nicholas knelt in front of Cassie, and gently lifted the wrist with no hand. He soothed a thumb over the recently healed skin.

“You may experience phantom pains. You too, as the method of your healing is quite unknown to me.” He glanced at Willow’s once open gash. “Should you need something to dull the pain, we grew rather adept at concocting a tincture for respite from it. So oft a round did not explode, a cannon caught the elbow of a man, or an infection lingered more than alcohol could help and the survivors of such gristly amputations found themselves plagued with suffering they could not name. They claimed demons, but the only demons was the loss of their autonomy, an affliction their mind could not cope with.”

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Annika

The warmth of the fire seeped into the tatami mats and the warm, earthy, sweet scent of redwood burning in the stove curled through the space welcomingly. The faintest rumble of thunder shook the glass baubles hanging from the ceiling, each holding a different colored liquid ranging from rich amber to a faint pink, and at the entrance was a small shoe holder. Interestingly enough, a well worn leather notebook sat on the table; somehow it went unnoticed when looking in from the outside, and a few instruments were hung on the wall: a koto, a sho, and a tsuzumi.

The light outside dimmed and clouds gathered far above the canopy.

Dysphoria’s tongue flickered out. “We taste no lingering presence of a creature, so either it is safe or it is magicked. Oh, perhaps there will be a secret trap. This would be fun.” The baubles caught Dysphoria’s eye and they swayed in tandem with them. “Oh, Darling, these are delightful. Do you think our Dewdrop would like a shiny like this? They like shiny things.”

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At last, Rohan and Root joined the others on the porch. The sky was getting dim, as if to encourage them to walk in. Up off of the ground with his bow still out, he looked around and didn't see much. It was empty, and that made him visibly relax a little. The shoe box caught his attention, they had walked through the wilderness for a moment to get here. Their feet would surely drag in dirt or bits of grass. But then, the Neverish wasn't Earth. So why...?

He sighed. It reminded him of home. There was a little pang in his warped chest. Rohan could remember places like this, before the Forest got him. His grandparents lived in a house a bit bigger, though theirs was better kept. An old habit kicked in, and he put his bow and arrow away, then removed his shoes. They were a mix of wood, hide and some strange adhesive he'd made from animal horns and wood ash, and they lasted longer than most things people wore. Nothing fancy. He didn't want to dirty up the floor. Even if there was something chaotically unknowable about this realm, shelter was shelter, and in the infinite possibilities one might associate with the Neverish, Rohan wouldn't rule out other travelers winding up here.

It was warm inside. He looked around. The glass baubles strung up overhead probably had something in them that would hurt the group if broken somehow. So he moved carefully with the owl on his shoulder. He saw instruments on the wall.

A koto, a long board with strings that one played sitting down. A sho, a handheld organ of pipes that could be played similar to a flute. And a tsuzumi, a small drum. Seeing those, the look on Rohan's face went from feral outside, uneasy inside, and now it was spite. Back in the old days, he had an aunt who loved to play the koto. She was pretty damn good at it, said her parents left the city with it when she was young.

"Kono basho wa watashitachi o chōshō shite iru nodeshou ka?" He quietly asked Root, whose only answer was a low-pitched mrp and a rustle of his wings.

Right, how would he know any better than the rest of them.

Rohan turned and slid the door shut. It seemed as if the weather could turn to rain and thunder here. Besides, shutting out the natural world helped normally, maybe it'd help here. He then unslung the pack holding his bow, quiver, and most of the things he brought in. The gentle thunk of his artifacts against the wall was easy to hear in the quiet of the building.

He noticed something on the table. A leather journal, it looked old. Did things age here?

Rohan sat down at the table and opened it up. The writing inside was written in gold ink. Somehow, he could tell it was meant to be read from top right to bottom left, and he found that curious because he didn't recognize the language. It wasn't English, and if it was Japanese, it wasn't any form he knew or was raised with. He squinted, trying to identify what language, if any, it could've been. The longer he did, the more Rohan felt something creeping into his mind.

So he kept reading, kept staring at the words. And then there came a sound no one but him could hear.

The thunder growled outside, and the wind seemed to go silent. Between the rumbling, he heard a voice far beyond the dimly lit walls of the Coven's shelter. Neither masculine nor feminine, in any way he could discern. It was easy to hear, because it was neither near nor far.

His skin felt stiff.

"For whom weeps the storm,

Her tears on our skin

The days of our years gone,

Our souls soaked in sin

These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow..."

"What-"

Creak.

Rohan heard the sound of cracking bark. Splinters creaking and twisting, the hum of wood bending in the wrong ways. A hand flew to his chest, and he heard screams.

The clang of metal against metal. The shouting of men over one another to be heard. Burning.

Fire. Fire. Fire, more fire. Everything ablaze. His body felt as though it was burning. They carried torches, they screamed, as if the end of the world were upon them. Just burning, everything BURNED. Rohan's hands scrabbled all over himself to put out flames that weren't even there. He was burning, the demon had to die-

Rohan fell backwards, and-

Snap.

The journal slammed itself shut, closed by some unseen force.

And Rohan was back in the real world.

He was sweating, but the pain and the flames weren't real. A trick of the mind, a trick of the Neverish, he didn't know. His throat felt dry. The wood in his chest ached, and Rohan took a long breath.

It was at that moment that he decided he hated this place.

He stared up at the ceiling and laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh.

"...Kono ba- Heh, this place has a sense of humor," He commented, pulling himself off the floor. The dark look in his eyes betrayed the cool grin he put on. "Be careful with that. I don't know what that language is, but it doesn't like being read. We might as well start taking notes. Dysphoria's right, we're alone. For now, anyway."

Root tilted his head at Rohan, and then stared up at Annika.

Rohan got comfortable in front of the table and withdrew his own journal, made from deer hide and... Something in place of paper. He withdrew a pen from a pocket and set to writing in silence.

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Cassie's mind was still a fragile battleground as she felt her pulse in her temples and was still reeling from the...was it a vision? Surely she didn't just dream that. Whatever deity or god or whatever had contacted her had wanted her to see those visions of her past, from the point of view she didn't see. As if it was confirming to her what she had known as a child, she was a victim. But she didn't have to remain one. After all, she fought to come here when the opportunity presented itself.

And wasn't that interesting? Was it fate that got her to come here, or was it the force in the background willing to step in and get her out of her cage. But didn't the being tell her that she was in danger of falling into another? No, she needed to explore this.

But she was weak. Her eyes drifted to Connie, who had been helping her, and she told her the unfortunate news. She dared not look at her hand, or lack thereof, for fear she would pass out again, but she trusted the girl. Before she could speak, Connie was gone, but another figure took her place. She didn't need to see him in full to know the dominating presence of her favorite dragon as he scooped her up. She felt comforted, the fear of recent events edging off of her. She was settled into the chair next to Willow, who didn't look good either. What had she done? She was the cause of this.

Jake was there too, bustling in like a storm and her heart settled somewhat. Seeing him, one of few people here who provided immediate comfort despite all of the unknown that threatened to overwhelm her still, gave her some strength. She felt sore, but she could still feel, and that was enough.

The brothers grim were there also, but, oddly enough, they weren't the annoying presence she came to know. Nick had come to her, going on about how she would feel and offering aid in case she needed it. That was, essentially, the straw that broke the camel's back. She couldn't fight it off any longer as she began to weep, tears streaming down her face. "It's my fault. It's my...fault. I am so sorry....so sorry..." The weight of it had hit her. She nearly put her coven in danger.

But...once the sadness got through, she felt something else. Anger. A rush of it. For it was her fault, but not fully. It was the journal's. She looked around to see where it was. What had happened to it? She felt unsure, but still....if you could bleed, you can stand. And if you could stand, you could fight.

"Where's the journal? I want to get all I can out of it before I fucking destroy it!"

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The darkness outside deepened, allowing the shadows to play. Annika’s chest felt tight while she watched. Shapes disappeared as quickly as they formed, giving the illusion that something was out there, but nothing came forth. She sighed and turned away from the window.

A foreign language tickled Annika’s ears, and she looked at Rohan. Japanese? Interesting. Annika felt her cheeks warm and turned quickly away, busying her hands by looking at what bubbled in the stew pot. She knew she liked Rohan, but she didn’t realize she was starting to like Rohan.

A delicious smell of rabbit, pork, and chicken hit Annika. She inhaled, her stomach grumbling in response. Vegetables bobbed in and out of view, tempting Annika to have a taste. However, she knew that was a stupid idea. Sort of.

Slam!

The sudden noise in the small room made Annika jump back and spin around. She looked around frantically, finally seeing Rohan on the ground with the book he had been looking at firmly shut in the middle of the table. She swallowed, approaching the table.

The last time she had read a book that had a mind of its own, it almost killed her father. Her hand shook as she reached out to touch the cover of the journal, ignoring Rohan’s warnings.

The whispers of a long-dead language she couldn’t place filled her ears. She shut her eyes, cocking her head as she strained to hear the sorrowful sound, tinged with longing and regret. Annika’s chest ached. Whoever wrote this had once lived a full life, perhaps full of strain and misery. Annika was sure of it.

She opened her eyes and pulled her hand back. ”Should we bring the book back with us when we go?” Would it willingly leave this world? And if it did, what would they bring into the next?”

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Cal (or was it the dragon within?) grumbled at Nick’s reassurances. He stepped aside, unblocking Cassie and Willow. He turned to look at them, but not in a way that left his back exposed to Jake. He was on edge with all these people around his injured coven members. As for Nick’s comment about the night before, Cal simply nodded once.

Cassiopeia’s sudden shift in her reactions had him kneeling at her side, ensuring the book was out of her reach and Jake’s. He doubted the others would try to take it off him.

”Cassie, my love, this was not your fault,” Cal said, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. ”I asked you to do something you might not have been fully comfortable with, and we stepped into that risk willingly. Those of us accepted into Strange Academy are made of sterner things. We can handle pressure, we can handle pain, and we can handle things when they do not go our way. I admire your fire and your need for revenge.” The fire in Cal’s own dragon eyes continued to burn even as he spoke tenderly to Cassie. ”But this journal has answers we need. I will not ask you to take this task on again. I will take it to Mikkail’s tower and glean what I can. After that, if the book remains, we can destroy it together. This is the best I can offer you.”

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Jake’s head cleared as he collapsed into the chair Nicky had indicated. There was still that ache deep inside of him, his hands shaking and his body trembling, as well as an odd burning sensation in his lungs. He didn’t understand any of it, but that heavy weight pressing down on him made it hard to care. All he cared about was seeing that all of his friends were alright. Willow was fine, her wound cared for. He didn’t know how he’d done it, everything had been a bit of a blur from leaving the statue behind to now, and he didn’t know what had happened to cause the injuries. He didn’t see any threats, there weren’t any foes in the room.

There was only…

Jake’s eyes widened as his gaze fell on Cassie, on his best friend. “Cassie!” he yelped, jumping up from the chair. She didn’t have a hand. Where had her hand gone?? People didn’t just lose hands, did they? He knew Frankie had extra hands but those were from people who were dead and when he had seen Cassie last this morning, she had both her hands. She was crying - and - and there was something about a journal? What journal?

Cal knew whatever this journal was - had the journal hurt Cassie? Hurt Willow? Was that why she was missing a hand? Jake maneuvered around Cal without a glance. He knew Willow was okay and he needed to know that Cassie was okay too. If anything happened to her - if he could have done something and he wasn’t here - he didn’t know the word for the emotion that filled him, but it hurt.

“How can I help you? What happened? I felt I was needed here and that must have been you, did you call out for me, maybe?” Jake didn’t understand how their magic worked, not in a way he could explain to another, but they were both connected to wild, chaos magic. “Did the journal hurt you? Can I help you with it?” He felt such an urge to hug her but he couldn’t make his body respond, instead just wringing his hands, nervous energy fueling him.

---

Connie stared at Jake - Jacob. She blinked. What? Connie kept herself from staring mouth open. She finally blinked and looked back at her patients.

“For now Cassie will be fine. She, and you, should both be looked at by Professor Ravoux. But neither of you are going to bleed out. Thankfully.” Connie stood up. She looked at the group. These were two of the covens. Not everyone, but a good portion of the Coven students.

“The journal is your Mystery then? What is your plan? If you cannot solve the Mystery you’ll be removed from the school. Destroying the book would make that difficult.” Not that Connie didn’t believe that sometimes destroying something powerful was the correct choice. Their hour would pass soon. They wouldn’t get their full allotted time to examine the statue. Unless the hourglass automatically stopped when they left the room? Maybe they could help the Book group solve their Mystery and then they could return the favor?

---

Dysphoria was correct. The baubles hanging from the ceiling were beautiful. Finley looked among them for one that caught their eye.

“Oh, these are delightful.” Finley reached up, taking one that was orange down. They did not hold it for more than a second when the glass shook in their hand and shattered. Finley stepped back avoiding any of the bubbling liquid or glass. The liquid seeped into the mats on the floor. The building made a strange noise.

The noise was not similar to a human, it was more like a building settling. A quiet groan. There was no emotion behind it. No pleasure or pain. Finley could not decide if that was a good thing or not. If it had had meaning behind it then they could react to the unordinary. Unfortunately, it was a mundane noise.

“Well, I suppose we will not be taking this back to our Dewdrop. Unfortunate.” Finley sighed lamenting the loss of the bauble. “Maybe we can recreate it?” With that suggestion they turned their attention to the others.

“Do we continue to search this building? Our instructions have been very vague. I do not understand what our goal is here. Is there something for us to hunt?” If they were still back at the school maybe they could be helping look for the head’s killer. Here there did not seem to be anything to do but poke around in the cupboards of someone’s home.

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As the danger began to subside, slowly but surely Barty’s cold and callous self began to creep back in. Upon the sleeping princess decidedly asking ‘what happened?’ He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. ”She’s being too kind. What happened was that you tampered with magic you did not understand and almost got your entire Coven killed in the process of it. If you’re going to act like an idiotic toddler then I would ask that you please not do it around my only living relative. If anything were to happen to him there would be no place in any of these gods forsaken planes that you could hide where I wouldn’t chase you until the ends of your days die out in a torturous cacophony of pain.” Barty was very well equipped at multitasking, typically it was used when hosting for multiple partners at once, but in this case it was to aid Connie in medicine while spitting vitriol to Cassie, after all a biting tongue from him was a free action. Connie's magic slipped into Willow, but it acted strangely, twisting in a way he hadn’t seen nor that he could fully understand. It seemed that instead of healing Willow, she had made it so that magic itself could not aid her, only natural remedies. He gave Connie the same look she had given him when he accidentally poisoned the damned moth. They were even.

Barty’s attention from Connie’s odd speech was one of curiosity, but when Jake had encanted, speaking not only his mother tongue, but calling Nicky his original name, something snapped within him. He got up from the ground with ferocity, quickly making his way towards Jake as herbs and stones left his person and wound and burned with such finesse it was as if watching a master caster at work. A magic circle appeared beneath Jake, and with each word Barty spoke and with every ingredient he had added, more and more sigils appeared around the inside of the circle until finally chains sprung forth from the floor and manacled the boy. A dog collar appearing around his throat as magic bound him to the place where he stood so that he could not move if he even dreamed of it. Anger burned inside of Barty, but he knew his brother was fond of this idiot. ”You live only because of my grace and that of my brothers, do you understand me?! But that infraction you just committed must have consequences, if you wish to every move again you will make a pact with me. Magically binding and sealed in blood. You will not harm my brother in any way. You will not allow harm to come to him in any way. If you are the result or reason as to why any harm so much as touches him, then may you experience his pain ten fold.”

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As Willow took in what the others were saying she could feel something stirring that she had not felt in a long time. As she turned to look at Cassie, her dear friend, and the lost of her limb, she could feel that something stirring more as it fought to get to the surface. Something she had long let take hold of her since that night the men with those awful machines came and tried to destroy her home, so she had destroyed them first. She could feel it pressing against the surface, as if she was the surface of frozen water, and it was slamming itself against the ice, testing for weakness and cracks. She put a hand over her facial covering as she tried to keep it at bay, and steadied her breath.

If they were being hunted, and if their own mystery was set to hunt them, it wanted to hunt first. It did not wish to be hurt again, as the fading dull throb in her shoulder reminded her. She was healed yes, and she would once again have to visit Professor Ravoux, and well, she still had to bathe as well.

She took a deep breath and counted to four, then did so again, as she tried to focus, even as Connie asked about the journal. "It is not our full mystery, but a key to it, so we hoped. It has caused nothing but headaches and pains, but this rate... I would take burning it over trying to read from it more. Especially you, Cassie. You have already lost enough, dear friend. I thank you all for your assistance, but if something is hunting us..." At that point the moth's voice changed. Her normally friendly and cool tone was gone, replaced by something that didn't sound of this earth, "Then let the hunter become the hunted."

She seemed to snap back to whatever normal was as she watched Barty seemingly bind Jake and offer him a pact. She tilted her head curiously, to see what path he would take. She admitted to herself she barely knew Jake, but he had helped her. A pact was binding yes, but it had worked out so very well for her. It was due to one that she was sitting on that very couch next to Cassie, and in her human form. For the moment, she said nothing. It seemed there was something going on between the three of them that they needed to figure out.

"...Perhaps we should inform the Professor of what has happened. After all, his sitting room is a mess now."

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Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia, Barty, Connie, Jake

Passions flared and arguments simmered, blame and guilt slung like mud rather than discussed with intent. Nicholas sighed as he pushed himself from where he was once kneeling in front of Cassie and rubbed his temples. He could feel the headache building and smoke sounded delightful, but he didn’t want to risk his smoking pipe with so much volatile magic still hanging about them. Instead, he fished out his flask and took a quick swig, stashing it back away, and took inventory of the room. Cassie demanded the book of Cal, the shifter offered some soft reassurances but maintained his resolve it would not be hers, Jake fretted aimlessly over Cassie, Connie suggested they die rather than leave the academy, his brother rightfully bound the immediate threat… Nicholas’s eyes roved Jake’s bound form and hummed appreciatively. If only he was wearing a little les-

The bubbling heat in his veins drew his attention to the moth as a voice unexpectedly rumbled from her. Large as she was, she was soft spoken and sweet - he hadn’t expected such intensity from them and he found it was quite the welcomed change. He wondered if that was something they could channel intentionally or if it was a change when their emotions were charged because he could certainly think of a few ways to draw that out. He licked his lips as he stared at Willow and considered what it would take to draw that out again; after all, it was only the other night they’d been introduced to the variety of experience Nicholas was considering now. Perhaps it would be too forward for her, or Cal. It was something worth considering, perhaps discussing with the shifter since he’d obviously laid claim to her that night, and instead turn his attention back to the bound man who held secrets he should not rightfully hold.

He had no intention of chastising his brother for his behavior. His approval hummed loud and clear across their minds and wrapped thoroughly in his brother’s magic, Nicholas felt no fear as he circled Jake and trailed his fingers alongside the chains. “Pointed fingers offer no solutions. Still these petty arguments all, and focus forward on solutions.” Nicholas spoke, the softness shown earlier shuttered back behind his bored, nonchalance. “Our most pressing issue is the matter of my two covenmates’ health. Skilled as Connie and my brother may be in their trades, an expert eye ‘cross their wounds would offer assurances against further concerns.” Nicholas played with the hem of Jake’s shirt, fingertips dipping beneath it to feel the flesh beneath. “The next concern is the journal and, as Connie so kindly pointed out, how we move forward. As I so aptly pointed out when we were offered this quest, we ought abandon this line of inquiry and persuade our kind professor another avenue may well be best for us. The journal should be obliterated - offered no magic, nor solace, nor kindness. Simply burned from the face of time as far as we can. I have an avenue that would achieve that - gone forever with nary a struggle. Tis simply not here and inconvenient to move.” Nicholas stepped away from his examination of his brother’s prisoner and instead knelt at Cal’s side, tilting his head away from Cassie so he could claim a moment of his attention.

“You have tasked me with keeping our covenmates safe and while I wish I could say that should we be assaulted, my skills would suffice in ensuring their survival, I would not offer you a lie. Their presence I may conceal and their noises I may muffle, I may even confound and confuse with more than who stand in this room now; however, I can not fight tooth and claw like you. I can, however, deal with this threat.” Nicholas pleaded softly, a conversation just meant for him, and offered him a pleading look, his fingers tracing the strong jaw of the man he’d learned to respect and care for over the years. “And in return for your trust and the knowledge you may lose, I would offer you a secret I have told no one through the ages if you’d care for it. I simply ask for the opportunity to close a wound from my past that I had not realized was still bleeding. Would you permit me this kindness?”

Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Annika

“We believe bringing back things from this realm a good idea. It would help in the discovery of what this place is, yes? More things for witches to examine, more puzzles for those interested in such things. That is the goal, no? Just information?” Dysphoria made a worried noise as the bauble broke in Finley’s hand, tendrils immediately petting over their hand to soothe any sting but they hummed happily when it seemed their Darling was unharmed. “It seems these baubles do not wish to be cla-” Dysphoria cut off as the spot where the bauble fell bubbled with light, yellows and blues and whites bubbling up and popping rapidly, building on one another.

Dysphoria shifted, taking control of the body, and hopped back, watching it carefully. It grew, further and further and further pooling like water. Dysphoria hopped up on the table, tendrils snatching at Annika and Rohan and dragging them up with them. It seeped from the bubbling spot further and further and further, slipping under the door and traveling out into the oncoming darkness. The house shuddered as lightning flashed and thunder roared and rain poured down in a torrent.

The floor rippled once, twice, and suddenly, sunlight poured up on a partially cloudy day and warmth radiated through the house. The roof creaked and buckled and plants grew down towards them, the building stretching as the plants grew from tiny sproutlings to fully matured orange trees in a matter of minutes. The roof opened up and grew further and further and further, an orange grove growing above their heads right before their eyes. The table began to sink into the floor and the stove and instruments vanished in the wind as the walls turned to dirt and fell up towards the grove and settled as a loamy soil.

The table shuddered and shifted, breaking apart at the edges and the wood pieces fell into mulch. The porcelain dinnerware shattered and the pieces flew together into three tall glasses and three heavy pitchers, one full of yellow liquid, another of orange liquid, and the last full of black liquid, that drifted daintily down onto a table that grew in the center of the grove. A sunburst tiled mosaic covered the table top and deftly drawn lines form a series of glyphs and circles within the sunburst. The sound of a fountain gurgling could be heard from afar and a wooden sign could be seen on the horizon, although the wording was too distant to read.

And then gravity reasserted itself.

Dysphoria tried to keep the three together, but their tendrils disappointed around the other two as they tried to use an orange grove to control their dissent, but crashed shoulder into the ground with a groan. They shifted back, their Darling unharmed, but pain lingered in their bond. Their healing factor would take care of it, but in a moment.

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All of this was just pretty words to Cassie. She barely clocked Cal referring to her as "my love" which would have sent her heart pitter-pattering before. Instead, she felt coldness. She was angry. The journal may have unleashed a massacre on them, but she felt the pull. Cal held the journal on him, safely tucked away and out of reach of anyone. But she could still sense her spell from before remained. She had it under her control. Sending it off to Mikhail would ruin that chance.

Jake came to her though, worry plastered on his face. His genuine care tempered her anger and she felt it recede. "I'm okay Jake. Connie and Nick helped. I'll go get further aid later once we are done here." She wanted to hold him, hug him, if for no other reason than to comfort herself, to know there was someone there truly looking out for her. She would have said Cal was one of those people, but there was something underlying there. Was it genuine care for her or was it just to see thir coven leader's task done? There was Willow, but even that relationship seemed strained. There was something going on between Willow, Cal, and the brothers. And since Cassie didn't fully trust Nick or Barty....

And as if the universe knew her thoughts, Barty decided get up on his high horse and have the nerve to chastise her like a child. It wasn't enough she had suffered a loss after doing what was asked of her, but now this. Cassie's anger returned, burning inside. She felt that being, the deity she spoke to, inside of her; a reminder that she was not some caged songbird. She was at this school and she earned her spot here, whatever everyone else thought.

So Cassie stood up. It took her a minute, but she managed. She stepped past Cal and Nicky and their private conversation held in front of her as if she wasn't there. She made her way over to Jake and Bart and planted herself in front of Barty, a protective stance in front of Jake. "I have just about had it with your condescending attitude. Whether you like it or not I have earned my spot here and I will not continue to have you try to diminish that. Your brother asked me for help, so I helped. If you nor he cannot stand the heat of learning the secrets of magic and the universe then maybe it is you who no longer belongs here. Perhaps if you took your head out of your own ass for a few seconds you would recognize what you have at your disposal: an assortment of people whose experiences and knowledge can help. Instead, you would rather threaten and slink back whenever something happens you do not like. I no longer care to earn approval from people who do not deserve mine so with as much kindness as I can muster in this moment...Barty, go FUCK yourself!"

"Jake, whatever he is saying, do not believe him. Do not accept whatever he offers. There are people in the world who do not have your best interests at heart and will tell you whatever you want to hear to get you to do what they want. He," she said pointing directly at Barty, "is one of those people. If you lay a finger on him, Barty, I will break another. And this is me being reasonable."

She remained in front of Barty, but looked over to Cal. "The jorunal is under my control still. I can get what we need from it and then it can be destroyed. Either way, I am involved. And I will see it burn with my own eyes."

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Jake didn’t resist as chains sprung up around him, manacles materializing around his wrists and legs, and a collar at his throat. He was immobilized, trapped in place as sigils danced at his feet - and all he could do was stare at the magic in wonder. Barty was incredible. Breathtaking, even. He’d seen people cast spells before at Strange Academy, but never anything like this. It was like - Jake didn’t know what it was like. He’d never witnessed anything on this level before. What else could this wizard do - what other miracles could he craft?

The bewildered smile faded from his face though as the prettiest boy he’d ever seen yelled at him. He opened his mouth, about to explain that no, he didn’t understand - all he had done was help someone, he didn’t know why Barty was mad at him. What was the infraction? What was an infraction? But the boy continued on, anger lacing his words, and Jake felt smaller and smaller the more he spoke. He thought he wanted to harm Nicky? It didn’t make any sense to him. All he’d ever done was try to protect others - he’d kept Nicky from being crushed by the dragon on their first night, and as much as he felt Cassie had called him here, he was here to keep everyone else safe, too. There was something wet in his eyes. He couldn’t wipe them with his hands bound, so he blinked to try to clear them, and the wet shifted to his cheeks, trailing slowly down his skin.

But there was a dueling sensation to the smallness, as Nicky circled him, the chains clinking where the other prettiest boy in the world walked. He tried to get a sense of Nicky too, to see if he was upset with him, to help him to understand what he’d done wrong… but there was an expression on Nicky’s face he’d never seen before. And something inside of him felt warm when he caught his eye, something that sent sparks through him as those long, delicate fingers brushed the skin under his shirt, something that burned. But it burned in a way that felt good. And as soon as it was gone, as soon as Nicky ventured over to Cal, its absence strangely ached.

What was happening to him? What was this feeling?

He opened his mouth again to ask, only to again be cut off as Cassie forced her way on over, standing between him and Barty. She seemed… protective? Why? He didn’t understand as she yelled at Barty, as she told him he was condescending, that someone who made such beautiful spells with such ease somehow wasn’t able to be part of this, as she informed Jake that Barty didn’t have his best interests at heart. But all he wanted was assurance that Jake wouldn’t hurt his brother and Jake would never hurt Nicky or Barty, so what harm was there to him? And the pact wasn’t with Barty, it was one for Nicky. Cassie hadn’t said anything about Nicky.

“I don’t know what I did. I thought I was helping. I just want to help protect everyone. Would you tell me what I did wrong? I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt Nicky. I like Nicky a lot. I kept him safe when the dragon tried to hurt him the first night, I helped him with his plants, I held his hand at dinner. I like him almost as much as.“

“If it would help him to make this pact, then I’ll do it. I’d never hurt him.”

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Rohan had little time to react to Finley breaking something in hear and accidentally flood the place. When he saw the gunk rising up, he reached out with his staff and hauled his bow sling towards him, right as Dysphoria got everyone up onto the table. Thunder outside seems to be shaking the damn ground, and if that wasn't the worst part, the sky was shining down on them. The roof was peeling away, the table was buckling, foliage was coming down- Fuck, Finley had royally pissed the place off, hadn't they?

"Alright..." He slung his things over his back and drew his sword, trusting Dysphoria and Finley to pick themselves up off the floor. "It's not safe, we can't get out without risking ourselves. We aren't learning anything in here like this. Let's get out of here and try again later. And let's bring a few things back with us."

Internally, he told himself that this wasn't his Curse. It didn't behave like it, and there was no monster that they could easily point to. So there wasn't much to be afraid of. Those instruments offended him in a personal way. He damn sure wasn't bringing something like that back, where he'd have to study it for magic and be reminded of things he didn't like thinking about. Instead, Rohan raised his sword and took a mean swipe at one of those trees rapidly growing around them.

The metal bit into the wood, and a chunk of bark no larger than his palm was knocked loose. Good enough.

"Root."

The owl flew around and grabbed it in his beak, dropping it into his master's hand before landing on his shoulder. Rohan knelt on the table and held his sword close, pocketing the sample.

"Use the Heart, and get out."

He shut his eyes and listened for its beating rhythm. The gentle thunk, thunk, thunk of his curse flowing through it. The connection to the Earth... And when Rohan open his eyes, everything around him was going up in smoke. Everything turned to black, and the cold seeped in. Rohan, his things, and his familiar were all that remained.

For a moment, all was silent. This was the way the two of them had fallen in. His body felt numb, as if he were going to sleep for a long, long time. He knew Root felt it too.

Deep breath in, and then out.. Rohan willed his body to move.

"We need to keep moving."

It was sluggish at first, but sure enough, he got to moving. He turned, and in the black, there was a light far away. It looked to be the arch they had gone through, the First Gate. And luckily, Rohan saw his damn shoes floating about in that direction. Root got his body to function, and he flew out to grab them. His master kicked them back on- Last time he showed respect like that again- and started walking.

"Okay... Let's get out."

The walking turned to running. Root flew to keep pace with him, the light growing brighter and brighter as they neared. The light reflected off the steel of his blade, he refused to sheathe it until he knew for a fact they were safe. Up ahead, he felt the cold get stronger and seep further and further into his bones.

Root disappeared.

Rohan jumped.

He landed on a stone floor, on one knee, surrounded by tables and runes etched by their Coven's "leader." He was back on Earth, and his body was riddled with frost from the passage.

Root landed the floor, shaking flakes of ice off his body.

"Annika! Finley! Come on!" He called out into the swirling void under the archway. As if they could hear him.

Fuck, it was cold in here.

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Annika was still trying to decide whether to risk the stew when she was suddenly grabbed and pulled onto the table.

”Whoa! What the—” The floor started to flood with some strange substance, and that wasn’t even the only bizarre thing happening to the cabin. ”Umm, yup, time to go,” Annika scooped the book off the table before it was lost and yelled for Nochella. The same voices from before greeted her, but Annika was a little preoccupied with other things.

The cat meowed from the trees outside before shifting and appeared on Annika’s shoulder. ”Good girl.” Annika kissed her cat’s shadowy head before looking at Rohan.

Who had completely vanished. ”Uh, that’s definitely not good. Finley, Dys, let’s go.” Annika grabbed onto Finley’s hand and channelled the image and feeling of the heart they all created to get them out of this nightmare.

Just as Rohan called, the four of them appeared. Annika stumbled slightly and shoved Rohan. ”What the hell?! You just poof! Disappear on us?”

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Cassie seemed gone. Lost to the book and what it had taken from her. Cal didn’t blame her. He wanted to destroy the thing, watch it wither and burn. He would incinerate it, but he needed to get as much knowledge as he could from it before then.

Cal shifted away when Barty came after Cassie. Cal glared at the twin. ”I asked her to look at this book. I put us in danger. Cassie simply desired to help. You do not speak to a member of my coven in this way. No matter what we have shared. If you wish to turn your ire on someone, turn it on me.” Fire danced behind Cal’s eyes as he shifted to stand between Barty and Cassie. But already the fickle twin had moved to turn his anger onto Jake.

Jake was Barty’s coven. Cal had no ties to Jake and felt no desire to protect the boy.

Cal moved closer to Willow, their changed tone making the dragon within him smile. The power drew them in as much as the opportunity to gain new knowledge. As did the power Barty exerted, despite Cal’s earlier warning to leave his coven alone.

Cal watched the entire thing unfold. His cheek feathered, jaw tightening with impatience. Cal wanted to be gone from this room, in Mikkail’s tower, destroying this book. It seemed he would not be allowed to do it alone, no matter how he wished to be the one to take the final hit. To destroy what tried to ruin what was his.

Every year, Cal would take on the role of protector—sometimes leader—with his coven. It was within his nature. The twins constantly tried to wean him off that habit, to turn inward and protect the self over others. Every time, Cal refused. His life was enriched by the creatures he met, and the knowledge he gained from them would be passed on for hundreds of thousands of years. If they survived that long.

Cal’s vision changed, and he found himself no longer staring at Jake chained to the ground, but into Nicky’s eyes. The colour shifting as it so often did. ”You ask the impossible. The journal could hold clues to our mystery. This journal hurt all of us because I asked each of you to look at it. Cassi the worst, and her need for vengeance is great. How do you plan to deal with the threat? What can you do that I cannot?”

---

Connie was used to Barty. She ignored him until he started to try to bind Jake. She turned to address the situation. To warn Jake off from accepting such an offer. It seemed that Willow was more concerned with destroying the book, and challenging whoever was hunting them. She was rather intense about it. In a way that made Connie wonder if she was all herself or if there was something else there.

“Barty, Jacob did nothing to deserve your ire here. If anything he helped. He has shown no desire to hurt anyone since we met him. I wouldn’t call him harmless. No one is. Least of all someone with magic, and especially one who cannot control their magic. But Jacob clearly doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He has put himself more in harm's way to protect than intentionally done anything.”

Cassie stood up against Barty and Connie smiled. That was well done. She had grown well over the last couple of days to be able to do that. “Do not take the deal Jacob. Deals with Barty are dangerous ones. It will hurt you. It could kill you. If you are dead you cannot help.” She figured playing to Jake’s desire to protect and help might work. He was already saying he would take the deal though.

“Since the book isn’t your only lead, it is your choice as a group to destroy it. However, we really should get Cassie and Willow to see Professor Ravoux.” She looked over Willow, her clothing damaged. Connie had begun to notice that Willow only wore the one outfit. “Willow, do you have any other clothing? You’ll want to change. If not we can see if something of mine fits for now.”

---

When the world shifted and Dysphoria took over Finley watched with interest in what was happening. The glyphs were of particular interest. They made a mental note of it. Only wincing slightly as they took back control of the body.

They weren’t particularly interested in fleeing yet. They wanted to see what the place was doing. However, it appeared dangerous enough that it might be prudent. Rohan suggested they grab something to take back with them. Finley looked around and grabbed (something?).

Rohan left, and Annika grabbed them (and the book, good). Together the trio fled back to the lab. Upon returning to the lab, Finley gently kissed Annika’s fingers, both their lips and her fingers icy cold from the transition.

“That was not necessary, but we see your kindness.” This was as close to a thank you as Finley was going to get. They did not owe Annika, but they privately swore to return the kindness at some other point.

“Allow me to use some of your paper to transcribe the glyphs we saw. It should be done as quickly as possible while the image is still fresh.” Finley held out their hand. Their memory tended to be good, as a long lived creature that was a necessity. Rohan handed over a few blank pages. That would do. Finley started to sketch out what they remembered of the glyphs, breaking them up slightly, but with obvious joins, to prevent any true power. More importantly to prevent the possibility of these things having been a gateway and being used by something from the Neverish side.

Can I join?What fandom is this?

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Barty offered Cassie nothing more than a sideways glance as she interposed herself between him and Jake. She talked about heads in asses yet she herself didn’t even know who it was that kept her health at bay. The reason she even still stood. ”You thought you would earn some approval by doing what exactly? You say that I fear new discovery, when that could be further from the truth. Learning the secrets of magic has nothing to do with risking ones life nor those of the lives around them. Only a selfish and self centered witch would dare to think like that. To be a witch and have this power is to understand community and the practice. It is not leaping off of building on a broomstick in hopes that you can fly. I do not care if you believe me to be deserving of your approval or not, because that was never an item that I was seeking.” Barty walked next to Cassie, shoulder to shoulder with only a breath of space between them as he faced Jake. ”Oh, and while I’m at it, I was the one who healed your wounds and ensured no infections took place before a magical means could mend it. I was also the one who brought forth a witch with the power to heal even in a manner of which I knew neither of us would agree to fully. But I did so because aid was needed and I asked for no token in exchange. That is what a witch does. That is how community works. And That is why I hold respect for Winthrop and her abilities, because she understands the work needed to be done in order to master the craft.” Barty’s tone remained neutral the entire transaction. His voice never once raising or wavering as he spoke to Cassie. There were a myriad of things that he had considered doing, ways to tarnish her name and image before all those peers she seemed to hold dear. But in the end he decided she wasn’t even worth the spells.

Barty made note of Cal’s attempt at interference, and he would be lying if he said he ever wanted to take the draconic witch on in a fight. He cared not for his ire, so when he left to be by Willow's side, he was more than grateful and decided it best to not even reply. His back still turned to Cal, he offered these few words. ”We have ways, means, and magic far greater than you are aware of Cal. Should Nicky wish it I believe we have the means to rid the world of that book without any of us being injured. I, however, would hate to use that means and thus offer a new avenue. Allow me to aid you in the books destruction and recovery of knowledge. My magics twist fate and bend the world to my favours when allotted the time and materials. It could aid you in what you seek, but you will owe me for the aid and for the danger you have placed my dear Nicky in.” his attention now fully on Jake, both posture and demeanor indicating it to all around, he spoke to him and him alone. If you want to protect my brother then never utter that name again. He is Nicholas to you unless he deems otherwise. Beyond that, we have a pact to make.” Jake had agreed to make the pact, and Barty wouldn’t allow him to change his mind later. He took Jake’s hand, the chain on it breaking, clasping it in a Roman grip as he began to encant.

”Le snàthainn an dàn agus an lagh naomh

Tha mi a’ ceangal do làmhan bho bhith a’ dèanamh barrachd

Gun chron le smuain, gun chron le gnìomh, Gun chron ann am facal, gun sìol cronail

Leis an Talamh agus an Teine, a’ Ghaoth agus a’ Mhuir,
Cha bhean do dhorchadas ris a-nis

Na chuireas tu a-steach cumaidh e nad shlighe,
Ceangailte ann an tost, oidhche is latha.

Le corda toil agus sgiath an t-Solais,
Tha do chron air a stad le còir naomh.
Chan ann airson peanasachadh, chan ann le fuath,
Ach airson a dhàn a dhìon agus a sheulachadh.

Mar sin a chanas mi e, mar sin bidh e.”

As Barty spoke, golden threads began to wind around both their arms and hands, a binding ritual for a severe pact, and one he did not use lightly. A ring of magic encircled the boys with his words etching into the floor in light before finally it all coalesced and bound itself to Jake's dog tags that had been around his neck. The magic shifting it into a dog collar as the tags were now affixed to the leather wrapped around his neck. The chains and spell that bound Jake fell, dissolving into aether before Barty removed his hand from Jake. ”The bargains struck. I hope the others prove me wrong, truly, and that this pact will remain meaningless. But I am nothing if not a cautious man when it comes to my kins survival.”