Novel Everyone's a Catgirl!

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Chapter 282: Rotten Heresy and Chocolate

Alia watched in awe as Tristan effortlessly poured his myana into the sapphire on the ground before him. The tendrils of his magic were at their strongest thus far, escaping the palm of his hand as if skipping across a pond. He was able to keep his eyes open now as he worked. A good sign that he wasn’t allowing external factors to distract him.

Tristan exhaled, then shook his hand. “I think that’s it.”

With a smile, Alia bent and picked up the stone with her pointer finger and thumb, straightening to observe it in the light of the moon on her balcony. She rotated the sapphire to the left, then to the right. The stone caught the light, the edges glowing and sparkling brightly. She let the stone fall into her palm, then closed her hand over it to form a fist.

The stone is very cold. Much colder than I had anticipated.

Tristan had learned so much in the last three days. Where there was unsureness to his voice prior, there was now confidence in its place. Alia admired the man’s desire to learn, but more than that, she loved his modesty. Whenever he made a mistake, he would apologize and ask how he could improve. It was rare he made assumptions. Alia could think of very few catgirls, student or not, who bore such traits.

Alia turned around and clasped her hands behind her back. “Congratulations, Tristan. I think we can safely move past this portion of your training.”

Tristan let out a relieved exhale tinged with laughter. “Thank you.” He leaned back on his palms and stared at the ceiling of her room, particularly at the garnet which kept it lit. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Alia’s cheeks burned, and she curled a thick lock of dark hair around her finger. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I was beginning to wonder for a while if I could do this, but…” He cocked his head forward, and his expression changed. “Is something wrong?”

Alia quickly shook her head and released the hair from her finger. “N-no, nothing at all.”

You’re such a liar. He’s a man. Just ask him. It’s their duty. He would never say no.

Tristan hummed, then tilted his head to one side. A brief silence passed, and he returned his gaze to the garnet, his lips forming a straight line. “So, where do we go from here?”

Hoping that Tristan hadn’t grown wise to her desires, Alia stepped away from him and slipped the charged sapphire into one of the inside pockets of her robes. “You have learned how to transfer myana and detect its sources within stones. Next, you will need to learn how to amplify myana.”

Tristan cricked his neck to one side, then the other. “Alright. I’m ready.”

Alia gaped, then shook her head. Why was that so attractive? “R-right.” She pointed to a garnet on the floor in the middle of the pile of stones. “Pick up the garnet.”

“Okay.” Tristan adjusted his posture, crossed his legs, and then put the stone in his palm. “What do I do?”

“This part can be a bit tricky, as it’s not something [Mage]s can normally do.” She glanced at the moon behind her. It would soon wax full. The time in which it would be easiest to amplify one’s Spells. “Focus on the sensation you experienced when you poured your myana into the stone. Once you’ve found it, you’ll want to force that same feeling into the stone and then send it outward using your own myana.”

Tristan closed his hand over the stone. Silence. The tendrils that came so easily earlier were now nowhere to be seen. Intermittent flickers of blue seeped through the gaps of his fingers, but the average onlooker wouldn’t have noticed.

Come on, Tristan. You can do this.

Alia crossed her arms and watched as Tristan strained. It was clear he knew how to control the flow of myana; well, his own myana, at least. She’d made sure that the garnet was filled with his alone. Such stones were much easier to use. The energies would feel more familiar, seeking to bond with their original vessel more readily. This method worked well for her, as well as other catgirls she’d met in her lifetime.

The idea was to learn how to force the stone’s myana out for a burst of power. Amplification would feel slightly different, but the means were the same.

Usually, they can get something out of it, so why can’t Tristan? Is he still too new to this?

Alia wasn’t expecting him to run before he could walk, but learning to control the flow of myana was the walking part. Now, they were running, and she began to wonder if she’d made a mistake somewhere in her mentorship.

“Stop.” Alia knelt with her palm extended toward him. “Give me the stone.”

“Why?” Tristan asked with a cocked brow.

“I wish to try something.”

“Sure.” Tristan carefully placed the stone in her palm.

“Pay attention.”

Alia curled her fingers over the stone. Rising to her feet, she returned to the balcony and enunciated, “[Robe of Heat].” Swirling wisps of red and orange emerged around her as if they had been invisible until now. A warmth overcame her, slowly waking her tired muscles and bones. Myana began to trickle from her skin.

And now, for the amplification.

Just as she had instructed Tristan, she concentrated on the stone and beckoned the myana outward, using her own myana as a propellant. Dusty blue light emanated from the stone, seeping out of the crevices of her fingers as if in search of something. The wisps coalesced in a space in front of her, then burst into a flash of white and yellow.

The [Robe of Heat] changed. Yellows turned to orange, orange to red, red to white. The amplification would be weaker since she was using a garnet and not a ruby, but it would still serve its purpose well. Her myana began to escape at a more rapid rate. With one quick hand gesture, the Spell dissipated.

Nothing wrong with the stone, then.

Alia turned around to see a wide-eyed Tristan. “That was amazing to watch,” he said. “So, the amplification made the Spell hotter?” Alia nodded, and Tristan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Then I’m working to amplify the myana’s power, not the amount… Alright, I think I understand now.” He jumped to his feet and dusted off the back of his pants.

The stone was half spent, but it would still serve the purpose of what amplification was supposed to feel like. “Then give it another try,” Alia said as she extended the stone to him.

Tristan took it, clasping it in his hand again. Seconds passed, and Alia fought back a gasp when she saw the first wisps of myana escape the garnet. Sweat covered Tristan’s face as he took in slow and steady breaths. He stared blankly, his mind no doubt preoccupied with how the energies felt against his skin.

If I could be that stone for an evening…

Tristan exhaled, then chuckled. “I think I spent it.” He opened his hand, and Alia retrieved the garnet. Sure enough, there was nothing left within.

“Let’s move you up a grade,” Alia giggled and knelt down, placing the garnet on the floor and picking up an amethyst. “I think you’re beginning to understand.” She stood and then put the purple stone in Tristan’s hand. “If not, then I’ll find another garnet for you.”

“Thank you, Alia.” He gripped the stone, resuming his steady breathing.

Like clockwork, myana rose into the air. Alia watched in silence, arms crossed. Whether Tristan knew it or not, he was commanding the myana into a centralized point just beneath the lantern in the ceiling, which held the garnet that illuminated the room.

With a gasp, Tristan suddenly let go of the stone, chuckling and panting. “That feels, uh, kind of fun,” he breathed.

Alia fought back the perverted thoughts that invaded her mind—

Much how I’d like him to invade me—

“So, this is what it feels like to amplify a Spell?” Tristan asked, breaking Alia free of her reverie.

Alia blanked. “Y-yes.” She averted her gaze. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why?”

Saoirse, help me, why did I say that? “N-nothing.”

Tristan frowned and leaned in. “Are you feeling alright?”

Alia breathed deeply and gestured with her hands, taking a step back. “I’m feeling…great.”

As Tristan opened his mouth to speak, he flinched. “Oh, uh, hang on.”

“Hm?” What’s he doing?

“I think it’s my iPaw,” Tristan said as he procured a small handheld object from his back pocket. It was silver in color, bearing a familiar pair of cat ears at the top.

That’s the mystical iPaw? Is that really how the men distribute their points? Alia had never seen an iPaw before. Sure, she’d heard of them, but she imagined them to look more like tomes with scrawling paragraphs and glowing golden words. From the way other catgirls described it, they made it sound as if nothing could be holier. So why does it look like a toy?

“Ik soma kha kala dan?” Tristan said as he looked at the magical device.

Alia winced. “W-what are you saying?”

Tristan looked up. “Oh, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “From what my friend Matt told me, catgirls can’t understand us when we speak to the iPaw.”

“That’s…interesting.”

Tristan nodded and hummed his affirmation.

“Are you actively using that language?”

“No, actually. That’s what’s really weird.” He looked up and tapped a finger to his lips. “Say, why don’t we try something? Watch what I say, and see if my lips match up with my words. I’ll try to phrase things in such a way that uses every part of my mouth.”

Every part of your mouth, huh? “Uh. O-okay,” Alia stammered.

“Alright, here goes.” Tristan returned his gaze to the iPaw. Unintelligible words spewed from his lips, and Alia watched them carefully. It took immense effort not to picture them being used for…other methods. Then he looked up. “So?”

Alia sighed. “Your lips matched perfectly.”

Tristan frowned. At least, it looked like a frown. Though, a part of him seemed more…scared than anything. “Huh. Well, that’s good to know.”

“What was the iPaw saying to you?”

“Oh, right. I completely missed why I pulled it out to begin with.” Tristan’s finger scrolled across the screen, and a sentence of strange words spilled from his mouth again. Then he stopped. “I can change to [Wizard] now.”

Alia blinked. “No, that can’t be. You cannot change to [Wizard] without extensive practice. One can only change once the stars and moon have deemed you worthy.”

Tristan shrugged. “That’s what Ai says.”

“Who?”

“Sorry,” Tristan said, sighing and shaking his head. “That’s the name of the catgirl that helps us assign our points to Stats and Skills. Her name is Ai.”

Alia nodded and hummed. Something was wrong with her. She should’ve been excited for him, elated that he had made it to [Wizard] so quickly. Instead, she felt envy. Animosity.

For the first time since she’d met him, she made an active effort to picture him in sexual ways. Perhaps it would dispel the disruptive feelings of pride and jealousy she was experiencing.

It did nothing to ease her disdain.

I spent weeks—months—to become a [Wizard]. I had no one to help me. And he did it in less than a week. Do all men have it so easy?

“Ravyn’s going to love this,” Tristan said with a grin. “The two of you have been immensely helpful. I can’t thank you enough, Alia. Truly.”

“Yes.” Alia nodded. “Right. Think nothing of it. If you need anything else or any…advice, just let me know.” Would you even need it? She had no will to congratulate him, no will to smile. But even so, she forced the smile onto her face and proffered her hand. For his sake. “You were a fine student.”

Tristan’s smile somehow grew wider, and he clasped her hand in a firm handshake. “This means a lot to me. Thank you again.” When he let go, he brought his hand to the iPaw and pressed his finger against the surface. Moments later, a circle of blue-white light formed beneath him. The threads of his robes billowed on a phantom wind, and his hair was bathed in the circle’s light. The effects subsided seconds later, and when the circle was gone, he let out a satisfied sigh.

“I feel it,” Tristan said with clear excitement in his tone. “I’ve become a [Wizard]!”

Alia made an active effort to keep her smile on. “Congratulations, Tristan.”

“Aw, this feels amazing! I can feel so much more myana in my body than before! Hang on! I’ll be right back! I gotta tell Ravyn!”

Tristan was gone before Alia could protest. Not that she had any intention of stopping him. She bit her bottom lip, then turned around and approached the balcony. Her arms hung limply at her sides. She gazed up to see the moon, and a breath of hot air blew forward as she exhaled. There was so much more she wanted to teach him. So much more he needed to learn.

And yet…

The iPaw, huh?

 

Chapter 283: Senbonzakura

Zahra woke early, far earlier than she was accustomed to. The tent was still pitch-black, but the moon’s glow had vanished. The overwhelming fear of her nightmare gripped her chest, and she wiped the resulting sweat from her brow.

Sanrai continued to haunt her dreams nearly every night, killing their mother or killing Zahra. The Ejderha succeeding in their pincer beneath the final wall of Rājadhānī and Sanrai slaying them all. Her smile was sharp and twisted as she cut them down one by one.

Zahra dwelled on her sister’s intentions without reprieve. What had brought Sanrai to such violence? She was Krethik’s daughter, just as Zahra was, and yet…

A stirring outside of their tent called her attention. Kirti still slept soundly beneath her pile of blankets, but Cailu was nowhere to be seen. Zahra’s ears twitched toward the disturbance. Swift footsteps cut through grass, and sharp exhales followed.

Zahra stood and whispered, “[Combat Mode].” Her sleeping clothes vanished, replaced with the familiar weight of her silks and armor. She summoned her katana to her hand and tip-toed over Kirti to leave the tent. If it was trouble that would greet her, she refused to arrive unprepared.

Instead, she found Cailu’s shadow mirroring his body in the gentle light of a nearby lantern. He’d left his shield behind in favor of wielding his sword with both hands, and he moved through a series of forms that Zahra didn’t recognize. She watched, entranced, as he positioned his feet with the assuredness of a warrior and the grace of a dancer.

Ishani, her mother, had once told her about stances that Krethik would practice each morning. Naeemah often joined him, she said, but Ishani herself had never learned them. Zahra wondered if all men practiced the same movements.

Cailu halted mid-step and dropped his elbows so his sword was at the ready. He whipped toward Zahra with a frown; his stance prepared for combat. She sheathed her sword and tucked her tail between her legs.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t sleep,” Zahra admitted.

“Mm. Nor could I.” Cailu paused to fish a waterskin from his [Cat Pack].

Zahra struggled to find what to say next. She wanted to be more open with Cailu, but the man was so very intimidating. She still had an achingly long journey ahead if she hoped to fill Naeemah’s shoes.

“I don’t think I’ve had the chance to see you train outside of combat before.” Zahra approached where he stood, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the others. “Do all men know such formations?”

Cailu finished his drink. “From my experience in Nyarlea, there are those who may practice similar routines, but each depends on where they come from.” He shook his head. “It seems there are many other worlds beyond my own.”

Zahra had guessed as much after seeing Cailu, Magni, Tristan, and Matt in one room together. Tristan and Matt had shared a previous world, but Cailu and Magni looked very different from either of them. “I know my father had a morning routine with martial formations, but I never had the chance to learn.”

Cailu replaced the waterskin in his [Cat Pack], then studied her face. Zahra feared she’d said the wrong thing and was about to excuse herself back to the tent when Cailu said, “Would you like to learn?”

Zahra swallowed the excitement that blossomed in her chest and threatened to overcome her like a sandstorm. She brought her fist to her chest and bowed. “That would be an honor.”

“Draw your blade,” Cailu instructed. Once she had, he pointed to the ground at his left. “Stand there. Alright. Now, position your feet like mine. Straighten your back. Chin up. Good. Watch me first, then move as I explain.”

All remaining thoughts of sleep vanished as Zahra carefully followed Cailu’s movements. He explained the four openings of the drill, and each direction called for a separate striking pattern. It seemed simple at first but grew in complexity as he added additional strikes to each corner.

“Now alternate between strikes with the flat of the blade,” he said. “Knowing when to parry is just as important as knowing when to strike.”

Sweat trickled down Zahra’s back, and her arms ached with the constant movements. But the tension in her muscles was a welcome reprieve to the tension in her mind.

Cailu’s directions were short but easy to follow. Zahra could picture him as the head of a command like the Ejderha. He exuded the same authority and layers of experience as Lady Naeemah, and his patience in teaching her was a surprise. More than once, he stopped his own stances to help correct Zahra’s posture or help adjust the grip on her sword.

The sun crested the horizon, and the caravan’s attendants rose with it. They continued to train until Zahra had memorized the striking patterns in all four directions.

“I believe this would be a good place to stop.” Cailu paused and retrieved his water. “You learn quickly. That is well.” His nod of approval made Zahra’s heart skip.

“Thank you, sir.” Zahra searched out her own waterskin in her [Cat Pack] and slowed her breathing as she stole a drink.

“If I recall, you wish to train for [Samurai], correct?”

Another jolt of glee ran from the tips of Zahra’s ears to her tail. She assumed her musings were beyond his notice while they were still on Ichi. “Yes, it is.”

“You will need to reach Level 50 of [Myrmidon], then. Appear, iPaw.” The enchanted device Zahra had witnessed only a handful of times appeared in Cailu’s hand. He brushed his finger against its screen, then hummed. “You are currently Level 22. We should expedite this process.” He asked the iPaw something, but his words were a jumble that Zahra couldn’t comprehend.

A different language? Zahra wanted to ask but didn’t want to interrupt him.

“Hm. That settles things. It seems I can be the one to train you, and then appraise your skill to deem you worthy of [Samurai].” The iPaw vanished from Cailu’s hand.

Zahra’s eyes widened. “You can?”

“If the woman in that device is to be believed, yes.” He crossed his arms. “However, my training regimen will likely be far more difficult than a traditional catgirl—”

“I accept.” Zahra clasped her hands at her waist and bowed deeply. “There can be no greater honor in Nyarlea. Please, allow me to be your student, sir.”

He made a sound Zahra had never heard from him before. Did he chuckle? When she straightened her back, he was smiling. “Consider it done.”

Matt and Ceres emerged from their tent, and Cailu’s gaze snapped toward them, his smile wiped clean from his face. It was a shame; it was an expression she would prefer to see him wear more often.

“Will Ceres be permanently residing on Shi Island when we return?” Cailu asked Matt.

Matt looked from Ceres to Cailu and blinked. “What? No. We’ll meet up again once I’ve hit [Battleguard]. That hasn’t changed.”

Cailu rolled his shoulders. “You disrupted our sleep and Ceres is not with child?”

Zahra felt her face burn as fiercely as Matt and Ceres’s cheeks. She had heard them but assumed it was impolite to question a man’s…activities.

“S-Sir Cailu, my sincerest apologies!” Ceres clapped her hands together and bowed until her braid dropped over her shoulder and nearly touched the ground. “I did not mean— W-we did not wish to impede on your rest! Please, if there is anything we can do—”

“See that it does not happen again.” Cailu waved at the lead of the caravan. “Break your fast, and let us be on our way.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Okay, yeah. Sure.” He touched Ceres’s shoulder, pinched the fabric of her dress, and tugged her back to standing. “Come on. Let’s grab something to eat.”

“Of course,” Ceres squeaked, her face in her palms, and followed in Matt’s footsteps.

Cailu shook his head and turned back to Zahra. “We will continue to rise before the sun and train together. There are Encroachers closer to Ronona that will suit your Level, and we will hunt them as we travel. In the next three days, should you maintain your enthusiasm, you should reach [Myrmidon] Class Level 25.”

“Three Levels in three days?” Zahra breathed. It had taken her over a week to reach her last one.

“Yes. Though, as I said, this will not be a simple task.”

She shook her head and grinned. “I promise. I will not disappoint you.”

“Good.” A fragment of Cailu’s previous smile returned and he glanced over his shoulder. “I have enough of that to deal with.”

“Have you ever considered not being so hard on the boy?” Kirti appeared at Zahra’s shoulder, toying with a glimmering stone between her fingers. Magni’s stone.

“Not until he’s a man,” Cailu snapped.

“You judge him too harshly, Cailu. But this is nothing new.” Kirti shrugged, then snaked one arm around Zahra’s elbow. “Shall we fetch breakfast, precious one? I believe you’ve earned it.”

Zahra wasn’t sure if she’d ever be accustomed to Kirti’s otherworldly knowledge, but the grumbling of her stomach urged that now wasn’t the time to comment. “Yes. Please.”

“Consider joining us, Cailu. It may raise your spirits,” Kirti suggested.

Cailu replied with a tepid grunt and then followed Kirti and Zahra back to the tent.

Zahra glanced behind her, smitten by Cailu’s offer. She would fall on her own sword before she disappointed him.

 

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Full NSFW Chapter 284 on Patreon

Chapter 284: Hm? Ah, Yes.

Alia clicked her tongue while she paced the length of her room. After the previous night with Tristan, she was desperate for answers regarding the men and their iPaw. She’d run hundreds of scenarios through her head, pored over dozens of her tomes, and still, she could find nothing explaining how men could advance their Class so much easier than catgirls.

Does Saoirse truly value the men that much more than her kin?

It hurt, to some degree. Men had always been viewed as beings of greater power, used as the example of what it meant to be a hero and to see that the next generation was strong and healthy. But Alia had assumed the men had to go through the same trials and difficulties as anyone else when it came to understanding their Class.

Some Classes took months or years to reach. To see the iPaw so readily change Tristan from [Mage] to [Wizard] felt like a kick in the teeth. Would he be able to switch to Third Class with just as much ease?

“No, it won’t do me any good to think like this,” Alia whispered to herself.

No one could change what had happened. It didn’t matter what she thought or how she felt. This was simply the way of the world. No amount of research could close the gap between them. Not if this was Saoirse’s will. She knew this. And even so, her mind wandered once again.

I need to walk, or I’m going to stay stuck in my head all night. Her head pounded. I still haven’t had breakfast.

Alia tossed the book in her hands onto the bed and stood. As she left her room, her cloak got caught in the door. She grunted angrily and shoved the door back open. Her hands shook as she undid the fastening of her cloak, then bundled the fabric into a ball and threw it against the far wall of her room. She snatched the knob and moved to slam the door but caught herself before she could commit.

Goodness, she was angrier than she thought.

After adjusting the pleated skirt and corset she usually wore under her cloak, she made her way down the hall and descended the staircase. She resided on the second floor, where noise was minimal. Acquiring books, tools, and equipment was easy since most of the important items she needed for study shared the same floor. Emberlynn never minded Alia’s curiosity so long as she stayed off the third floor. That floor was meant for the mistress alone.

Alia came to the base of the stairs on the first floor just in time to see Tristan exiting the sitting room where many of the estate’s servants ate.

He’s still awake?

A complicated emotion filled her chest. Sentiments of anger rose to the surface, then were quickly buried by the thought of Tristan’s fingers under her clothes. Her tail writhed behind her with wicked curiosity, her ears tingling with excitement. Her mind began to wander, as it often did when he was around, and she snapped herself out of the trance.

Tristan saw her and offered a casual wave.

A satisfied hum escaped Alia’s lips, and she leaned her weight onto one leg and reciprocated his wave. A stupid grin tugged at the corners of her lips, and she cursed herself for the gesture. How did this man worm his way into her mind without so much as a word from his precious, succulent lips?

Saoirse above, what was that you just did? You see him, and you melt? Are you a kitten?

“Hey, Alia!” Tristan approached without a hint of hesitation, smiling warmly as he so often did. He still seemed in high spirits. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little red.”

Curse my skin! “I-I’m fine, thank you. How does the night fare?”

“It’s nice. You have me on a night owl’s schedule now. I had a hard time sleeping, so I thought I would grab a snack and step outside for a bit.” He held up a meat bun and waved his hand back and forth. “The air here is so crisp and clean, I swear I could eat it.”

Do you have to use such a word? Are you doing this on purpose? “N-night owl?” Alia wasn’t familiar with the term.

“It’s a phrase to mean someone stays up late. I used to be a bit of a night owl, but that was a long time ago.”

“I see.”

An uncomfortable silence swept by.

“So, what did Ravyn say? About your Second Class change?” Alia asked. Tristan seemed so enamored with Ravyn that Alia wondered how many times he’d bedded her. The thought bothered her. “Did she approve?”

Tristan sucked the air through his teeth. “Uhhh. In a way. She did offer her congratulations, but she threw a book at me shortly after.” He bowed his head and scratched the back of his scalp. “She wasn’t too thrilled to be woken up.”

You wouldn’t be a terrible thing to wake up to— No. Stop this. Damn him. The anger resurfaced, and Alia brushed past him. “I need to eat.”

“Oh. I’ll come with you.”

Alia spun on her heel and pointed at him. “No, you… No thanks.”

Tristan blinked. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You seem a bit off.”

“I’m fine,” she said after drawing a deep breath. She resumed her march. “But if you must attend, then it isn’t as if I can stop you.” And still, you let him walk all over you! Come on!

“Alia…”

She ignored him. There had to be something she could do to take her mind off of him. She threw open a freezer box beneath the counter—an item Emberlynn had enchanted years ago to provide a cold environment to keep food from spoiling too quickly—and procured a brown substance in a wooden container. She set it on the counter, then popped it open.

“What’s in the box?” Tristan asked. At some point, he had ended up right beside her, craning his head toward the container.

Alia stood on the balls of her feet to retrieve a large wooden spoon. She cursed how short she was. “Curry.”

“Oh, we used to have that back in my world,” Tristan said, chuckling. “Looks good.”

“Y-yes.” Curry was a favorite of hers. The servants were exceptionally good at making it. Several tough and chewy vegetables—just the way she liked it—and cuts of tender meat were marinated overnight and spiced to perfection. A bowl of it never failed to make her feel warm and cozy.

Once her meal was complete with utensils, she put the freezer box back under the counter and took her bowl to the table at the center.

Tristan took the chair across from her, perching his perfect chin atop his palm. “Do you eat it cold?”

“No.” Alia extended her palm toward the bowl and willed the heat around the area to expand and intensify. She tapped the surface with her finger to test the heat, stirred the food with her spoon, and then continued to heat the area. She did this several times until the food was warm.

“Can I do something like that now that I’m a [Wizard]?” Tristan asked.

Alia had to stop herself from pounding the table with the bottom of her fist. “Yes.”

He nodded.

For a time, neither of them said anything. Alia wasn’t interested in talking, and she wasn’t about to tell him why. If he’s such a strong and smart man, then he should be able to figure it out.

She was halfway through her bowl when Tristan finished his snack and spoke. “Something’s up. You’re usually a lot more talkative than this.”

Alia sighed.

“You’re angry.” He crossed his arms. “Did I do something wrong?”

He needed her help on this one. And, try as she might to push him away, she wanted answers. “I have a question for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Do all men have such an easy time switching Classes?” she snapped.

“I’m…sorry?” He shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I spent months learning how to become a [Wizard].” Alia set her spoon down and gripped the edge of the table. “I spent entire days buried in books and scrolls and gems and the moon.” She looked up at the garnet which lit the room. “The moon and stars didn’t see fit to honor me with the privilege of becoming a [Wizard] for a very long time.” She leveled her gaze on Tristan. “And yet, you know so very little, and you were acknowledged in less than a week.”

“Oh,” Tristan muttered, brushing a hand over his mouth, “that makes a lot more sense.”

“Oh?” Alia hated being this short with him. She wasn’t short with anyone. Most of the time, she’d crack under the pressure, return to her room, and practice more magic. It brought her more joy than anything else. “Is it always so easy for you?”

Tristan drew a deep breath. “I don’t know, I’m afraid. I can’t speak for the other men, but from how Cailu described it, it sounds like most men go through a similar process.” He drummed his fingers across the table’s surface. His shoulders deflated. “Alia, I—”

“It’s frustrating,” Alia admitted, bowing her head. “It’s frustrating knowing that all you had to do was swipe your finger across that…thing, and it made you a [Wizard].” Her cheeks burned, and she turned her head away. “It’s frustrating to see my efforts demolished so promptly. And it’s especially frustrating to hear Ravyn’s name on your lips all of the time.”

“Hang on, Ravyn?” Tristan blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I hear the way you talk about her. The way you describe her.” She sighed. “I should have been the one to show you how to better manage your myana, but no. She was the one to do it. I’m your teacher. That should have been me.

“I know I— I’m not as tall, or as”—her cheeks burned like fire as the words touched her lips—“as voluptuous as she is. I-I’m sure you have fun with her every night.”

Tristan snickered. “Ravyn? With me?”

Alia looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Yes! With you! Why do you laugh? What’s so funny?”

He shook his head. “No, Alia. You have it all wrong.” He waved his hand through the air. “I look up to her as a teacher and a good friend. She’s from Matt’s Party—that’s Ni Island’s man—so I don’t believe the thought’s ever crossed her mind.”

Alia blinked rapidly. “So, then… You two haven’t…?”

Tristan shook his head. “Nope.”

“Ah.” I am so embarrassed right now!

“Besides,” Tristan continued, “I don’t think she realizes it yet, but I’ve seen the way she looks at Matt. That’s who she really wants. Not me.”

Alia swallowed the building lump in her throat. “I… I see.”

“I’m sorry, Alia.”

“For what?” she stammered.

“I was so excited to hit Second Class. I didn’t realize that I trampled your feelings.” He shook his head. “I think I would feel the same way if I was in your position, and it was never my intention. So, I apologize.”

Oh, you sweet, succulent little— “T-the moon will rise again,” Alia muttered.

She took a scoop of her curry and chewed on it for a time. Afterward, she stood up and brought the bowl to the sink, rinsing the remaining contents. She set the bowl aside, brushed her palms across her skirt, and offered Tristan a curt bow at the neck before walking past him. “Well. Good night, Tristan.”

“Hey,” Tristan said, catching her wrist. Alia turned to face him, admiring how the locks of his curly blonde hair settled on his forehead. Those unassuming eyes, and those gentle hands. How could any catgirl not appreciate them? “Can I make it up to you?” A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I-I-I don’t know what you mean,” Alia said.

“I think you do.” Tristan kept her wrist in his hand the entire time while he stood. He pulled her closer until their chests were touching. He reached around her waist and cupped her closer. “I won’t break if you touch me. Promise.”

Alia’s thoughts ground to a halt. All she wanted was to burn this memory into her brain. “W-we— Hm, that is…”

“Hm?” Tristan leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “You said it yourself. It should have been you.”

The anger she’d held in her chest only moments before swelled to a passionate greed. Yes. It should be her. “Come here,” Alia hissed as she shook off his grip and pulled him away from the break room by the neck of his shirt.

It was a quick journey up to the steps and to her room. She threw open the door, divested his shirt, then shoved him onto her bed. Procuring the key to her lock from her skirt pocket, she shut the door behind her and turned the key. Spinning around to face him, she tossed the key to her side. “You’re mine.”

(NSFW Version)

---​

Alia caught her breath and licked her lips. “Yes. You’re very good at this,” she hummed. “What I wouldn’t give to sire several daughters.”

Tristan grinned and let his hand rest on her hip. “Am I hearing that you wouldn’t mind a return visit in the future?”

Alia leaned forward. His hair curled in front of his face, the tips riddled with sweat. She lapped a droplet of sweat away from his nose. “I would mate with you over and over again until the stars themselves have burnt out.” Her tail swayed side to side behind her. “I want as many children as your seed can provide.”

“Then I have some work ahead of me. I’ll give you as many daughters as you desire.”

Alia’s smile widened as she eagerly devoured him with her gaze. She was not yet sated. “Until then… Might I request a second tryst?”

“Hm, well...” Tristan laughed and snatched her wrist. “The night is still young.”

Let us be night owls together, my darling student.

 

A note from DoubleBlind:

A huge thank you to our new Patrons, WarptheSynth, ObeseStrayCat, and Aaron A!

---​

Side Quest: Odwracać Kota Ogonem

Six months passed more slowly than all of Janusz’s years in Nyarlea. Hanna grew distant with Ceres’s absence, and finding an equal replacement for Celestia proved challenging. It was by complete luck that Jaqulin had found them in Sorentina one foggy day. She was a Ni Island expat and a skilled [Hunter].

However, even with their new companion, Hanna didn’t have the same fight in her. She was distracted, oftentimes in perilous situations; however, he was hesitant to leave her behind and seek out a new healer. Hanna was an excellent [Celestrope], and their time together had blossomed into a relationship akin to that of husband and wife.

She may still call him ‘Master’ in the presence of others, but Hanna was kind to him behind closed doors. She was the one who kept his bed warm at night and set his mind at ease. More than seven years she’d spent at his side; more than any woman had in Olsztyn.

The strange blue-haired girl in the iPaw device he’d been charged with was quick to remind him of the laws they would break should he ever consider an exclusive bond. There were physicians on the mainland dedicated to ‘curing’ such feelings. The thought pierced his chest like a dagger.

Now, in an effort to cheer up Hanna, they stood together in Venicia at the doors of the School of Etiquette that Celestia had so desperately wanted to foster.

“Master Janusz! It is an honor to see you again.” Celestia cradled her hands over her apron and bowed deeply at the waist.

“Celestia,” Janusz replied. “This is Jaqulin, and I expect you remember Hanna.”

“Of course! And it is a pleasure to meet you, Jaqulin.” Celestia offered a second bow to the violet-haired [Hunter] at Janusz’s left.

“I assure you, the pleasure is mine.” Jaqulin returned Celestia’s bow with a smile.

Celestia straightened and smoothed her apron over her skirts. “Please accept my deepest apologies. I did not expect your visit, or I would have been more adequately prepared.”

“Don’t worry yourself over us. We can manage.” Janusz glanced to his right and caught Hanna’s wandering gaze. He sighed and crossed his arms. “Is Ceres around?”

A tiny smile twitched at Celestia’s mouth, and she adjusted her glasses on her nose. “She is. Allow me to fetch her.” She stepped aside in the doorway and gestured for Janusz to enter. “I shall have Ceci make you tea.”

She moved gracefully toward a side table where she lifted a small bell and jingled it from side to side. A few heartbeats later, a young dark-haired girl in a similar black and white uniform emerged with a silver tray. Celestia nodded in approval and vanished down one of the many hallways branching from the main room.

“Goodness, how kind! I’d heard stories about this place, but it’s far more elegant than I could have ever imagined,” Jaqulin remarked. She took a seat in one of the plush chairs around Ceci and the tea set, then lifted the porcelain cup and studied it. “I don’t think there’s anything like this on Ni.”

“That may be for the best,” Hanna murmured. She wandered toward a series of small paintings along the far wall and traced the frame’s edges with her fingertips. “Manners and elegance aren’t what keep us alive.”

Ceci hummed as she poured three cups of tea. “Perhaps it is not my place to say, but Mistress Celestia and her teachings give many of us hope.”

“Is that so?” Janusz asked as he took the seat next to Jaqulin. The craftsmanship in the designs of the small table and all four chairs was impressive. He recognized many of the techniques from his prior life and lamented that he’d never had a chance to pass them on to his children.

“Yes. She says that if all we do is fight, then we lose ourselves and who we truly are.” Ceci placed a sugar cube in each cup. “Knowing nothing but battle would make us no better than Encroachers and Defiled.”

A strained word of disagreement sounded from Hanna, and Janusz caught her chewing her lip just as she turned to look at the paintings once more. Her tail flickered behind her in furious ticks.

Dobry boże, woman. You are your daughter’s mother.

“That’s an interesting view,” Jaqulin said. She carefully lifted her saucer and teacup, then took a sip. “Oh! This is delightful. Hanna, you should come try it!”

Hanna shook her head and waved her hand in dismissal. Janusz opened his mouth to encourage her to do the same but was interrupted by a high-pitched squeak of excitement. Ceci excused herself from the room.

“Mother! Father!” Ceres squealed when she entered the room and skipped forward. Celestia clicked her tongue, and Ceres froze, her eyes searching between Hanna and Janusz. “A-ah. Right.” Ceres lifted her silk skirt in both hands and slid one foot behind the other before bowing forward and performing an awkward curtsy. “W-welcome to the Venicia School of Etiquette.”

“Remember, do not bend your back, Ceres. Only bend at the knees,” Celestia instructed.

“Sorry, Madame Celestia.” Ceres straightened her shoulders and realigned her balance before bending at the knees. “Like this?”

“Good. Much improved.”

It was odd to see Ceres in the finer silks of Shi Island. While many of Janusz’s daughters treasured their wardrobes, Ceres had torn and ripped her clothing so often that Hanna had purchased a full series of lower-quality dresses from the merchant ships. But, so far as he could tell, this one was finely pressed and still intact.

Ceres nodded and released her skirt. She looked at Janusz, then at Jaqulin. “Are you Father’s new Party member?”

“Yes. My name is Jaqulin.”

Ceres’s sapphire eyes went wide, her ears twitched with excitement, and she bounded forward, tail and skirt fluttering behind her.

“Ceres!” Celestia snapped.

Janusz covered his mouth with one hand, hiding the smile that threatened to split his lips. It seemed even the Great Celestia couldn’t get his kitten under control.

“You’re so pretty!” Ceres remarked. She touched Jaqulin’s knee and pinched the folds of fabric that made up her flowing pants. “I’ve never seen clothes like this before!”

Jaqulin giggled. “This is my [Combat Mode]. This is called a ‘Hakama,’” she explained, pointing to her pants. “My mother was from San Island.”

“Ha-ka-ma…” Ceres repeated slowly. Another hiss from Celestia made Ceres snap to attention, and her cheeks burned furiously red. “M-my name is Ceres. It is an honor to meet your aquintsense.”

“Acquaintance,” Celestia corrected behind her. “You must never impede on a stranger’s personal space, Ceres. We have spoken of this before.”

“I know.” Ceres squirmed beneath Celestia’s glare. “But just look at her purple hair! And her beautiful armor! And—”

Celestia clicked her tongue. “No excuses. You—”

“Perhaps Ceres can give us a tour of the school, Celestia?” Hanna interrupted. Her expression was dark, and her hands were balled into fists.

“Yes, I believe this would be an excellent teaching opportunity for Ceres—”

Hanna raised her hand and shook her head. “Alone.”

Celestia opened her mouth to retort, and Janusz stood. She and Hanna still went together like an ox and a cart. “Let Ceres show us around, Celestia. You’ll still have her at the end of the day.”

“O-of course, Master Janusz. As you wish.” Celestia bowed again, her twin braids dangling from her shoulders. “Simply ring one of the bells should you require an attendant.” She left the room, and they remained silent until her footsteps could no longer be heard.

Ceres rushed to Hanna and leaped into her arms. “Mother! I’ve missed you so much!”

“Goddess above, I’ve missed you, too.” Hanna laughed and held her daughter tight. Janusz couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her genuinely smile. “Have you been a good girl?”

“Yes. Only the best!” Ceres leaned back and looked between Hanna and Janusz. “Want to see my room?”

“Of course, kitten.” Hanna set Ceres down and held out her hand.

“You too, Lady Jaqulin?” Ceres beamed up at the [Hunter].

“I would be honored.” Jaqulin smiled and stood.

“Yay! This way!”

Ceres led them all down a hallway, pointing to various doorways as they passed. “I learn sewing in there with Mistress Edith, and cooking in there with Mistress Ishna. Oh! And Mistress Catherine teaches us all about Saoirse in there!”

Hanna was an attentive listener, asking Ceres about her various lessons and schedules. Janusz lagged a few steps behind and Jaqulin with him.

“Might I ask you a question?” Jaqulin murmured.

“You just did.”

She exhaled through her nostrils, then continued. “I’m sure you have many kittens by now. Do you grant them all such quality time?”

“No.”

“Then—?”

“For her.” Janusz gestured to Hanna. “It’s the least I can do for her.”

“Hm.” Jaqulin’s lips spread into a wry smile. “You’re sweeter than you look.”

Janusz grunted.

“Here we are!” Ceres opened a door and hopped inside. Janusz and Jaqulin followed behind Hanna as they entered the small, tidy dorm room. “I share a room with Molly! She’s from Catania. She’s really nice.”

“You’ve kept it nice and clean,” Hanna remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so organized.”

“Yes! I’ve worked very hard!” Ceres clapped her hands together. “That means you’ve come to take me home, right?”

Hanna’s smile faltered and Janusz shook his head. “No, Ceres. This is the best place for you.”

Ceres puffed her cheeks out and her ears drooped flat against her head. “That’s not true.”

“It is, sweet,” Hanna murmured, to Janusz’s surprise. She knelt and swept the stray hairs away from Ceres’s eyes. “You’re learning all the things that I could not. And look! Not one hole in your skirts.”

Ceres lowered her gaze. “I’ve taken really good care of it. And everything else. Really. I promise.” She clasped her hands and her shoulders slumped. “I promise I’ll be good…”

“I know you will. And I promise that we’ll visit as often as we can.” Hanna touched Ceres’s face and looked at Janusz. “Right?”

Janusz frowned. Still, Hanna insisted on spoiling this girl. And yet… “Yes. As often as we can.”

Hanna’s face lit up, and Janusz looked away. “I’ll keep writing to you, too, sweet,” she said to Ceres. “I’m never very far away.”

Ceres stared at her polished shoes for a long time and then nodded. “Okay.”

Jaqulin stepped forward and touched Ceres’s shoulder. “Why don’t we all have dinner together at the inn? My treat.”

“Really?” Ceres brightened, and her ears perked up. “That would be wonderful! Thank you, Lady Jaqulin!” She took Jaqulin’s hand and steered her out of the room. “Are you from San Island, too?”

“No. I was born on Ni, actually. My mother moved there when—” Her voice faded with Ceres’s as they made their way down the hall.

Hanna joined Janusz’s side and slid her hand into his. She perched on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, my sweet.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “You’re welcome, kochanie.”

 

Chapter 285: Tell Your World

Sylva was waiting by the cave’s entrance when Keke exited. A gentle rain rippled through the [Hunter]’s dark hair, droplets of water flecking the tips of her fur cloak. There was a serene stoicism about her. The same kind of strength Keke had seen in her mother when she was still alive.

“Were you waiting here the whole time?” Keke asked. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but she knew she’d been in the cave for a while.

Sylva nodded. “I was.” She pushed away from the rocky wall with the heel of her boot and turned toward her, sniffing at the air. “You passed.” Just as Keke was about to speak, Sylva raised her hand and shook her head. “Tell me not of who judged you. It’s a personal journey. One fit for you, and you alone.”

Keke glanced at the ground, then nodded. “Okay.” She turned the medallion over in her hand. A warmth wrapped around her body. The light that had encompassed the thread was gone, but its presence was still there.

The wolf was watching her.

She fought down the urge to jump for joy; to cry. For the first time in years, she felt like her mother was standing beside her again, witnessing her journey just as the wolf did now. She’s still with me, after all.

“Are you alright?” Sylva asked.

“Yes.” Keke looked up at Sylva and smiled. “I’ve never felt better.”

Sylva chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” She flicked her head behind her. “Come with me, and we’ll discuss the task that comes after.”

“Right.” Keke sped up her pace and walked with Sylva.

“Do you have any experience in [Alchemy]?” Sylva asked as they began their descent down the mound.

“I do. My mom and”—she paused as a tinge of hatred swelled in her breast at the thought of Granny Nauka—“an old acquaintance taught me.”

Sylva hummed. “Good. All [Scout]s looking to become [Hunter]s must pass an exam that will test her knowledge of fauna and tinctures.”

“What does that look like?” She mostly asked because it sounded like the right answer, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t help but note how soft and wet the ground was. Shards and twigs bunched and buckled under their combined weight, but rarely did they snap. Never had she been somewhere so full of life and yet so quiet.

“That’ll depend on what the spirit values. Some prefer potent healing herbs, others poisons.”

“And the spirit will tell me?” She was making an assumption, but it seemed to her that this test was less based on what the [Hunter] believed she should do and more on how the forest viewed her.

“Yes,” Sylva said as she pointed to a cabin. “Are you hungry?”

Keke frowned. “Didn’t we just have breakfast?”

Sylva stopped and blinked. Then she snickered. “You don’t realize how long you were in there, do you?”

Keke shook her head.

“Four hours,” Sylva said.

Keke furrowed her brow. “Is that normal?”

“Quite. Come. Let’s get something to eat.”

“Won’t we need to catch and cook it ourselves?” Keke wondered. They’d made it very clear that inns and taverns weren’t available in Khasstead.

“There’s a gathering hall for those of us who live here,” Sylva said. “We take turns keeping food on the fire. That will be a conversation for later,” she added before Keke could ask.

Sylva took her to a cabin situated between two identical structures. Another woman walked out as they approached, pausing to offer a curt nod to Sylva. Sylva mimed the gesture, beckoning Keke inside with her.

“I haven’t seen the others rever you like that,” Keke noted.

“Because I told them not to. It can feel overbearing,” Sylva said. She patted the surface of a nearby table and took a seat at one end. Keke sat down in the chair across from her. “Your mind is wandering.”

Keke nodded. “Yes. I’m just thinking about everything I’ve experienced so far.” She drummed her fingers on her thigh, clinging to the sensations that seeped into her inside the cave. “I’m ready to continue. I want to learn more.”

Sylva smiled. “You sound a lot like Elona.”

“Please,” Keke said, shaking her head. “Compared to her, I’m just a novice. I have so much to learn.”

Sylva nodded and motioned someone over from the back. “You’ve only just arrived. Focus instead on what you can do to help. We’re family here. The spirits of the forest will take care of the rest.”

“Right,” Keke said. She was still trying to comprehend what Sylva meant by the forest’s spirits. It was a noble belief to think that the forest was its own entity—its own consciousness. If she hadn’t looked upon the spirit of the wolf herself, she wasn’t sure she would’ve believed it.

A woman with white hair and blazing red eyes set two hearty bowls of soup on the table, then quickly spun on her heel and left to tend to a heavy pot dangling from a tripod.

“This smells incredible,” Keke said as she neared closer. Chunks of tender meat and tough vegetables floated in the delicious broth.

“One of my favorite meals,” Sylva said, smiling. “I usually have it for breakfast before the morning hunt. We keep it simmering for hours.”

“The morning hunt?”

“Yes. We create a small hunting Party every morning and locate meals for the days to come.” She pointed her spoon at Keke’s bowl. “The food in your bowl was collected yesterday.”

“Oh.” She poked and prodded at the soup, feeling stupid for the next question she was about to ask. “Is there a set time I should complete my first task?”

Sylva set her spoon in the bowl. “That’s between you and the spirit. No one’s pinning you to this spot, so feel free to enter the forest at your leisure.”

Perhaps after lunch, then. I need to locate this furlocke.

They ate in silence until they both licked the last drops from their spoons. Sylva pushed her bowl forward and stretched her arms above her head. “So, how do you like it here so far?”

“I love it,” Keke said. “It takes me back to when my mom was still alive. I used to capture small Encroachers when I was a kitten. I saw how fast and strong my mom was with a bow, and I wanted to be just like her.” She rubbed her thumb along the ridge of her bowl. Elona’s image was just as clear now as it had ever been. “I’d catch Encroachers in boxes and ropes that I made myself and bring them home. My mom would get so angry with me. Some days I wish I could go back. Just for a day.”

Sylva hummed. “It sounds like you had a wonderful relationship with your mother.”

“The best.” Keke laughed as she recalled another memory. “Eventually, I got tired of always being scolded and resorted to [Fishing]. She had trouble getting angry at me if I brought home dinner.”

“I think you’ll find many of us in Khasstead are the same way.” Sylva smiled and withdrew a small pouch from her [Cat Pack]. “I collected these spices during your trial. I’ll be leaving them with Kemna in trade for the meal.” She gestured to the white-haired catgirl at the tripod. “Be sure to make a habit of carrying items of use in your [Cat Pack] for times like these.”

“Understood.” Keke drew a deep breath and rose to her feet. “I’d like to get started on my task.”

“I admire your tenacity. Just return before nightfall.”

“I will. Thank you, Sylva.”

Sylva waved, and Keke strode out of the cabin onto the porch. The door shut behind her, and she took a moment to admire the petrichor. The gentle scent of fresh rain always reinvigorated her senses. Satisfied, she hopped down from the porch and looked around.

Before she took off into the woods, she’d need a way to get back to Khasstead in case she got lost, and now seemed as good of a time as any to acquaint herself with more of the village. She spotted a woman with vibrant green hair speckled with red tending to a pot beneath the safety of a veranda. An enormous gray wolf’s pelt lay draped over her shoulders, its edge hanging mere inches above the ground.

When Keke got closer, she noted several pouches and bottles on a table next to the pot. “Excuse me.”

The woman turned around to reveal a patch over her left eye and a long scar that spanned the length of her face and down her chest. “What?”

“My name is Keke. I’m looking for markers I could use so I don’t lose track of where I am in the forest.” A vial filled with white liquid on the table caught her eye, and the woman followed her gaze. “Do you have anything like that on hand?”

“Got something better.” The woman shuffled between the bottles on the table and lifted a scroll. She carefully unrolled it and held it up for Keke to see.

Keke’s eyes widened. “A map,” she murmured. And an extremely detailed one at that. Tiny X’s and careful scrawls detailed Encroacher locations and trapping opportunities. More importantly, it featured plenty of landmarks to reference.

“Mhm.” She grunted and rolled it up.” I don’t recognize you. Are you the new [Scout]?”

“I am. And you are?”

“My name’s Thorn.” Her eye was so dark—no, obsidian black—that it was unnerving. “I will give you the map on the condition that you bring back a lover’s snare.”

Keke frowned. The name sounded familiar. “Can you describe it?”

Thorn paused. “Eight petals. A yellow stigma. Stands knee-high; pink colors. The barbs that grow on the petals are extremely fine.”

Ah. That’s right. I remember now. The lover’s snare—monikered Saoirse’s Claw by some—was a very rare flower feared by many. Keke remembered the night Elona and Aurora had tended to Bella, a Ni Island native who was conned by a San Island merchant. Bella bought it with the intent of giving it to her daughter, only to brush her hand across the petals. Hundreds of barbs too small for the eye to discern lodged themselves into poor Bella’s palm, and she called upon Ni Island’s [Sniper] and [Bishop] for help.

It was a terrible night.

Elona and Aurora did everything they could to ease the pain, but without a [Hermetic], their options were limited. Since the risk of transferring the barbs to another person was too great, Elona carefully flayed the skin from Bella’s hand, and Aurora worked tirelessly to heal the wounds left over. While much of the pain eventually subsided, Bella’s hand would flare up on occasion, and Elona would flay another layer of skin in hopes that she finally got rid of all the barbs.

The lover’s snare was not a flower to trifle with.

“I’m not a fool,” Keke said, irritated. “What do you want with such a dangerous flower?”

“My mark.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“No.”

Keke clicked her tongue and sighed through her nose. “Sorry, but that’s a steep price for a map.” She looked from side to side, wondering who else around she could ask.

“I’m Khasstead’s cartographer,” Thorn said. “My price is the best price.”

Damn. Keke chewed on her options.

“Or map it yourself.” Thorn blinked her one eye, shrugged, then turned back to her pot. “Burn your own daylight, not mine.”

“Alright.” Keke sighed. “I’ll find your snare in exchange for the map. Deal?”

“Deal.” Thorn passed Keke the map and three ivory-filled vials. “Here. Some waterproof paint, too. Get me that plant.”

One by one, Keke put the bottles in her [Cat Pack]. When she was about to offer her thanks, Thorn had already turned around and resumed her activities with the pot.

Not much for small talk, I guess. Well, at least I got what I needed.

Keke browsed the map, then let her gaze travel to the edge of Khasstead. She started her march toward the woods. Her body itched to hunt again. To become part of nature and take in all the sights, sounds, and smells around her.

If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll find the furlocke while I’m out there.

When Keke came to the village’s edge, she paused and looked up at the canopy of trees that protected them. The rain was much denser in the distance.

“[Combat Mode].” Her clothes disappeared in an instant, replaced by the garbs Matt had given her. The cloak felt natural around her shoulders, and her muscles brimmed with newfound [Energy]. She curled and uncurled her hands a few times and ensured her bow hung firmly around her shoulder.

Procuring the first small bottle of white from her [Cat Pack], she dipped her finger into the substance, then brushed it against the tree immediately to her left.

Watch me, Mom.

 

Chapter 286: Declaration

The rumors about the Defiled were becoming unbearable. Whispers followed Ravyn’s every move whenever she left the Emberlynn estate. Oftentimes she couldn’t make them out, and she had to ask Bally to stop passing her the information. Unless it was paramount that she heard it, Bally had nothing more to say on the matter.

Tristan offered on a few occasions to discuss the matter with Emberlynn, but Ravyn was adamant about speaking to her alone. She didn’t want Emberlynn to worm her way through his heart and use her debilitations as a method to manipulate him.

That boy is much too soft.

Ravyn stood in front of a full-length mirror, observing the changes Yukari had made to her [Combat Mode] attire. Where before the dress fell down to just above her ankles, much of the fabric had been trimmed, creating a skirt more in line with what she wore before.

She bent over, viewing herself from the side, and noticed a subtle flash of her undergarments. “Keh. Can’t wait to tease Matt like this,” she muttered. Gone were the sandals, replaced by thigh-high stockings that matched the red and gold theming of her new clothes. And what a relief, too. Those sandals were a pain in her tail to walk around in. “Yeah. This is more me.”

She put a hand on her hip, wriggled side to side, then clicked her tongue. The chest piece could use some adjustments as well. In fact, the entire outfit was still much too demure—too modest—for her liking. But altering much more and she’d risk ruining the Enchantments. As much of a cunt as he was, it was a decent enough gesture from Cailu, and she couldn’t argue with a boost to her magical prowess.

Can’t believe he’s slithered his way into my family. She crossed her arms. Breathe. Focus on the tasks at hand. You can burn him alive at a later date.

“[Civilian Mode],” Ravyn said. The new silks disappeared in a flash, replaced by her traditional Shulan attire. She stepped out of her room, raising her arm. Bally swooped down from a nearby lamp filled with a bright garnet, tilting his head. “Good morning, Bally.”

Bally nuzzled against the crook of her arm, and she scratched him between the feathers on his neck. Life in the estate with Sophia and Emberlynn was going to take some getting used to. Her time spent going to school, making friends, and being a foolish teenager had ended over a decade ago. The amicable relationship she had with her mother was now little more than a strained acquaintance.

And it’ll only get worse once Tristan leaves.

Ravyn started downstairs, using the palm of her hand to play with Bally’s face. The familiar hummed and leaned into her touch, and she offered a hum of her own in return. Silverware clinked in the distance from one of the guest rooms down the hall. She took a deep breath and strode forward, peeking around the corner to see Tristan seated with Destiny, Lara, and Yanni.

“Oh, hey, Ravyn!” Tristan said as he waved to her. “Come on over.”

“Wind had a lot to say about her this morning,” Lara hissed to Destiny.

Ravyn rolled her eyes and took the seat across from Lara. “Mou ii. It’s too early for this shit.”

“May I provide you with a delightful cup of tea?” Yanni offered as she rose to her feet.

“Yeah, fine.” Ravyn gestured her arm forward, and Bally hopped off, plucking a peanut from a bowl at the center.

“How are you holding up?” Tristan asked.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Don’t worry, Ravyn. We’ll return as soon as we discuss our plan with Melody,” Destiny said, her brow furrowed. She’d seemed awfully determined as of late, and she and Tristan were spending more and more time together. Ravyn had her reservations, but she liked to believe her mother’s vote would sway them to at least hear Tristan out. “We’ll make you proud!”

Ravyn worried about them. Tristan was smart, but he couldn’t learn all of San Island’s roachshit in a day. Destiny and Lara mean well, but it’s clear they can’t keep up with the complexity of the conversations. And Yanni… She looked at Yanni, and the woman returned her gaze, blinking. Fuck, I don’t think she cares, so long as Emberlynn stands to gain something from this.

How detestable. She was worrying over them as if they were her kittens. Groaning, she crossed her arms and bent one lengthy leg over the other.

“She doesn’t trust us,” Lara whispered.

“I can hear you,” Ravyn said.

“Worry not,” Yanni said. “I will be with them. As Madame Emberlynn’s ambassador, I will see to it that your plan is properly represented.”

“I’m sure.”

“Squawwwwwwk!” Bally cried. “More peanuts! Squawwwk!”

The breakfast continued like this for some time. Platitudes filled the air, and Ravyn struggled to stay awake. Occasionally, Destiny would chime in with more words of encouragement, and Ravyn would nod and smile. Bally munched on peanuts until the very end when Tristan and his Party rose to their feet.

“I think we should get going,” Tristan said with a hint of sadness in his voice. “Will you see us out, Ravyn?”

Ravyn leaned her chin into her palm and drummed her fingers across her cheek. “Someone who isn’t out to make a profit should see you off, I suppose.”

Chairs squeaked and screeched as each person rose from the table and walked toward the hallway. Servants bowed and offered their thanks as they passed, stopping only when an airy cough caught their attention.

“Mother,” Ravyn muttered as Emberlynn approached from the end of the hallway. A servant walked her down the corridor with her hand on her back. Unbelievable that she still refused to use a cane.

“That glower ill suits you,” Emberlynn said. Even now, as sick and useless as she was, she still had the nerve to look down on her. “Straighten your back and see our guests off with a smile.”

Ravyn snickered. “Sure, Mother.”

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. “Uh, thank you for your hospitality, Madame Emberlynn.” He proffered his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Emberlynn met him with a smile and shook his hand. “You will forgive me for being as harsh as I was.” She eyed Ravyn. “My daughter and I call it ‘the dance.’”

Tristan kissed the top of Emberlynn’s hand. “Thank you for teaching me the steps.”

Emberlynn raised her brows. “You will make a fine man when you are older.”

“Implying he isn’t a man now?” Ravyn said.

“Not everything is a game, daughter.”

Liar.

“I apologize for how my sister and I acted,” Destiny said as she offered a bow befitting a Shi Island maid.

Emberlynn shook her head. “Think nothing of it, child.”

“We should leave,” Yanni suggested, then directed her attention to Emberlynn. “Madame Emberlynn, you have done me a great honor by selecting me as your ambassador. I will see to it that you are properly represented and that Tristan and his Party are given the respect they deserve.”

“I know you will. Now, off you go.”

“Tell Sophie that I loved meeting her,” Lara said. “It was wonderful to meet someone else who can talk to the Elements.”

“I shall.”

Yanni pushed the doors to the estate open and gestured to Tristan and the others to follow. Waves were shared and goodbyes were said on their way out, and once the doors were closed, Emberlynn met Ravyn with a sharp gaze.

“You wish to say something, so out with it,” Emberlynn snapped as she shook away her servant’s hands. The servant flinched and took a step back.

The mask drops. “I want answers.” Ravyn looked at the servant. “Some privacy? This is between us.”

“Y-yes, mistress,” the servant said, bowing before leaving.

When they were alone, Emberlynn glanced over her shoulder, then tilted her head as she studied her daughter. “This is about the Defiled, is it not?”

“What do you think? For starters, how in the fuck did something like that live under the ground without your knowledge?” Ravyn hissed. “Do you know what they’re saying out there? What they think of you? Of us?”

Emberlynn cackled. “Since when did you care what others thought?”

“Don’t change the subject, Mother. Answer me.”

“It matters not what they say. I’m in control here. It will pass. It always does.”

Ravyn's eyes widened. “It will pass? Mother. People are dead. Does that not mean anything to you?”

“Am I to weep for every death Zhuli suffers? Every miscarriage? Every Defiled that entrenches itself here?” She scoffed. “You know nothing of our lineage.”

“Maybe you’re the one who forgot.” Ravyn ground her teeth. “What happened to you? I thought we had something. I thought I had a mother who loved and cared about not just her daughter but her people as well.”

“And I thought I had a daughter whom I could trust to carry on our family legacy. But then she abandoned me.” A twisted smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “It seems you and I aren’t so different after all, are we?”

Ravyn balled her hands into fists. She wanted so desperately to burn this entire fucking place to the ground. Watch the smolders glow and laugh as the ashes rose into the sky. The very woman who was supposed to protect Zhuli’s people—ensure their success and livelihood—saw them as little more than a means to an end.

“I am nothing like you,” Ravyn said.

Emberlynn coughed into her elbow. A line of drool followed as she drew back to wipe her mouth.

“You still haven’t told me,” Ravyn continued. “Answer me as to why this Defiled lived for as long as it did. It killed dozens of catgirls.”

Emberlynn paused. “Do you have proof that it was responsible for every disappearance?"

Ravyn scoffed. “Did Yanni tell you nothing?”

“She gave me a detailed report of the events.”

“Are you deliberately ignoring her report?”

Emberlynn’s eyes narrowed. “Only certain citizens are accounted for. ‘Dozens’ is a bold statement, Ravyn.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now,” Ravyn said. “Yanni’s friend died. She’s dead. Does that mean nothing to you? Did she even tell you?”

“No. She did not.”

Ravyn gawked. Her body trembled with fury. “Un-fucking-believable. The trust she has for you.”

“The Defiled was well hidden, from how Yanni explained it to me,” Emberlynn said. “How were we supposed to find a beast who does not wish to be found?”

“I won’t accept an answer like that.” Ravyn shook her head. “Not from you. Not from [Arbiter] Emberlynn. I know what [Arbiter]s are capable of, Mother. I’ve watched you my entire life! You…” A chill suddenly swept over her. Her head felt heavy, and goosebumps covered her arms as the realization set in. This was no accident. “You could have prevented all of this.”

Emberlynn sighed and bowed her head. “Any answer I could provide would be insufficient. I am not the woman I used to be.” She wrung her hands. “I will double the guard duty for the time being.”

“And what about the victims’ families?” Ravyn snapped.

“I will see to it that they are remunerated.”

“That… Fine,” Ravyn relented.

“Oh? Where did your vim go?” Emberlynn cocked a brow.

“Nowhere,” she lied. “I’m just tired.” She shouldered past Emberlynn, raising her arm as she passed the guest room. Bally flew and landed on her forearm, glaring behind her as they walked away.

When Ravyn was back in her room, Bally fluttered away and perched on one of her bedposts. Ravyn’s heart pounded against her chest as a bizarre and cold sinking feeling settled in.

Something’s wrong. Something’s seriously fucking wrong here.

There was no proof that Emberlynn was responsible for anything, but Ravyn knew. She’d seen the Spells her mother had weaved, the decisions she was capable of, the calculating nature of her being. A woman like Emberlynn would have sensed a Defiled in their midst months ago. Even as sick as Emberlynn was, she danced as well as she ever had during their conversation with Tristan. [Arbiter] Emberlynn was a woman with few equals.

“Ravyn?” Bally asked. “What’s wrong?”

Ravyn sucked in her lips, then looked up at her familiar. “I smell roachshit, and I’m going to find out where it’s coming from.”

 

A note from DoubleBlind:

A huge thank you to our new Patron, Joachim F!

Chapter 287: Essence

Two more days passed, and Cannoli settled into her classes with a comfortable rhythm. She remained wary of Muzhira, but Rozalyn’s demeanor softened from loathing to a cold neutrality. At least when they cooked dinner together on her third night in the temple, Rozalyn didn’t reel when Cannoli asked her a question.

The studies were vigorous, and Cannoli often collapsed with exhaustion at the end of each day. It wasn’t just the Spells she practiced or the prayers she learned that sapped her [Energy]; it was the constant supervision of her own footsteps, the careful balance of hiding Buttons from wandering eyes, and the sense that Muzhira was always waiting for her next opportunity to strike. But showing weakness wasn’t an option, and Cannoli remained determined to leave Saoirse’s halls a [Priest].

Cannoli shivered against the morning chill. She wasn’t wearing anything outside of her sleeping silks, and she felt uncomfortably vulnerable. “Should I switch to [Combat Mode] now?”

Cora shook her head. “No. Sister Frejya says that we should cleanse ourselves while we clean our gowns. Which means more skin showing than usual, I guess.”

They stood alone in the dorm room just after Sister Allegra’s morning instruction. Cora had reminded her that morning prayer was replaced every third day with washing their gowns, and Cannoli carefully folded hers on the bed while Cora watched.

Buttons pawed at a corner of one of the sleeves, then licked the smooth white fabric.

Cannoli stroked his head with her fingertips. “I can’t hide Buttons dressed like this.”

“I know! That’s why I’ll take him now and then go wash mine when you’re all done,” Cora replied brightly. “We have a full hour, and you can change into [Combat Mode] while your robes dry.”

Cannoli sighed with relief. “Thank you, Cora.”

“Of course! I’m sorry I haven’t found a safer place for him yet. I really want him to be okay.” Cora held her palm out flat, and Buttons hopped into it without hesitation. She grinned. “He’s just so cute I could die!”

“He likes you a lot.” Cannoli giggled and ruffled Cora’s hair. “You’re a wonderful friend.” Satisfied that Buttons was in good hands, Cannoli collected her robes and strode to the door. She was surprised by how quiet her footsteps had become in just a few days’ time. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“If Sister Sahzi comes in, I’ll be here, um…praying.” Cora touched her chin and winked.

Cannoli nodded and slipped out into the hallway. Dozens of other initiates in their sleeping clothes streamed from the dorms, holding their robes to their chests and speaking in whispers. The halls were always so quiet, filled only with practiced footsteps and gentle voices. Sometimes, she found it calming; other times, when the whispers vanished, it felt like a cemetery, and it froze her heart.

She followed the flow of initiates outside, where more of them knelt by a crystal clear body of water overseen by a silver statue of Saoirse herself. Sister Frejya stood beneath the goddess’s likeness, reciting a single prayer repeatedly as each new row of initiates approached the pond.

Rozalyn stood from the water’s edge and turned to face Cannoli as she approached. Her eyes flashed, then flickered to Cannoli’s hands. She took three steps and was just about to pass when she hesitated.

“Did you bring your soap?” Rozalyn whispered.

Cannoli blinked, then looked from side to side. Glass vials caught the sunlight in the other initiates’ hands, and empty bottles rested in the grass beside the girls kneeling on the bank. “N–no.”

Rozalyn shifted the damp garments on her arm, then pulled a bottle filled with clear liquid from a small pouch on her hip. “Here. They’re in the box by your bed.”

“Oh! Goodness, thank you!” Cannoli squeaked as she accepted the bottle.

Without another word, Rozalyn made her way back to the temple.

Cannoli took the place Rozalyn had occupied moments before and watched how the others gingerly submerged their robes, then lifted their vials of soap and allowed one or two drops to ripple on the water’s surface. She followed their lead and did the same, listening to Sister Frejya’s rhythmic chanting.

“Lady Saoirse, bless our hands as you have blessed our waters. Cleanse our flesh and our spirits as we wash away our trials and tribulations to begin anew. Guide us in your light and wisdom, and help us remember the purity of your ways. May we return but a crumb of the gifts you have given us.”

After a few swirls of her hands, Cannoli lifted her robes from the water and furrowed her brow. The fabric should have been heavy and soaked, but they were little more than damp—as if she’d already laid them out in the sun for a few hours. The breeze carried the sweet scent of the soap, and the ivory fabric gleamed as brilliantly as the morning she’d received them.

She puzzled over the magic of the blessed waters until she reached her dorm room once more.

Rozalyn perched on the edge of her bed, fingering the pages of a leather-bound book. She wore a deep violet gown with a black cincher around her waist.

Cora skipped up to Cannoli with a grin. “Sister Sahzi didn’t come. We’re all clear.”

“Thank you again, Cora,” Cannoli said, then murmured, “[Combat Mode].” Once her armor had settled, she accepted her blazard from Cora and tucked him away in her top.

Rozalyn’s gaze remained fixed on the pages throughout the blazard exchange and when Cora left the room. Cannoli fretted at her lower lip and rolled the glass vial between her fingers. With a deep breath, she approached Rozalyn and held the bottle forward.

“T–thank you so much, Rozalyn.” She tried her best to keep her hand from trembling, but the glass still shook between her fingers.

“I thought Cora would have told you.” Rozalyn looked up to accept the bottle, and her eyes widened. “Is that your [Combat Mode]?”

“Yes.” Cannoli smoothed the long silks beneath her armor and blushed. The intensity of Rozalyn’s stare was too much, and Cannoli searched the floor for her response. But she found her tongue too tied to say anything.

Rozalyn broke the silence. “What did…? Mm.” She hesitated, then pocketed the bottle. “Don’t worry about the soap. Just remember to bring it next time.”

“Right. Of course.” Cannoli nodded vehemently and turned to march back to her bedside.

Neither of them spoke another word.

“Today will be a difficult lesson for all of you,” Sister Allegra announced.

Cannoli and Cora exchanged worried looks. Muzhira grunted. Rozalyn nodded, always staring straight ahead.

“Truly, you are the quietest initiates I have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” Allegra sighed. “Perhaps it speaks to your listening. However, I digress. Today, the four of you will perform [Beseeching Chant] while under pressure.”

Cora slowly raised her hand and murmured, “Under pressure? Like from Encroachers?”

“Perhaps. But not quite.” Allegra moved to the far right of the room and pulled one of the songbooks from a small bookcase. The wall beside the bookcase quivered, then vanished, revealing a pitch-black passageway. “You will enter this room one at a time under my observation, and you will have half an hour to attempt to cast [Beseeching Chant] without being interrupted. Yes, Rozalyn?”

“Apologies, Sister Allegra, but how do we cast a Spell outside of our Class?”

“This chamber is Enchanted to allow you to cast [Beseeching Chant].” Allegra narrowed her eyes. “Should anyone attempt to cast any other Spell, I will have you removed from this temple immediately.”

Cannoli nodded in tandem with her peers.

“What’s inside?” Muzhira asked.

Sister Allegra shook her head. “It is best if you find out for yourself. Cannoli?”

“Yes, um, what happens if we can’t cast it?” Cannoli squirmed in her chair. The fear of failing her first real test slithered down her back.

“Another excellent question. This is an exercise we will repeat every day until all four of you can successfully cast [Beseeching Chant] without being interrupted.” She looked pointedly at each of them in turn. “It would behoove you to lend a comforting shoulder to one another in the interim. Perhaps share what you found most successful in your trial.”

Cannoli swallowed against the building lump in her throat.

“Who will go first?”

Muzhira stood. “I will.”

“Very well, then. As for the rest of you, I ask you to choose one of the prayers we’ve learned and rehearse it until it is your turn.” Sister Allegra gestured to the passage. “Come with me, Muzhira.”

They vanished into the darkness, and the others waited in silence. Rozalyn opened her songbook and mouthed the words to one of their recent hymns.

“What do you think’s in there?” Cora whispered.

“I don’t know.” Cannoli thumbed through her book until she found one of the hymns that had resonated well with her. “I think it’s best to listen to Sister Allegra and practice, though. It’s all we can do right now.”

“Right.” Cora nodded and opened her book.

Saoirse, guide my hands to good. Guide my heart to pure, Cannoli read silently. Cleanse this vessel within and without so that we may continue forth in your name.

The hymns used for [Beseeching Chant] felt shorter than the incantations Cannoli heard Ravyn use when casting her Spells. However, she’d learned that even two seconds in a battle felt like a lifetime. When she imagined trying to heal their Parties through the fight with the [Necromancer] Defiled, her stomach turned.

When Sister Allegra returned, Muzhira stood at her side with trembling hands clutched to her chest. Her gaze searched for something far, far away, and a thin line of blood trickled down her chin where she bit her lip.

Cora gasped. Cannoli’s heart skipped.

“We will try again tomorrow, Muzhira. Do not worry.” Sister Allegra touched Muzhira’s shoulder, then looked at the other three. “Who will go next?”

Waiting and dreading whatever awaited her inside the room would only make it harder to control her focus. Cannoli stood up before Cora or Rozalyn could. “Me. I’d like to go next, please.”

“With me, then, Cannoli. Muzhira, you may return to your dorm for the remainder of this lesson.”

Muzhira nodded and slowly lowered her hands. She glanced at Cannoli, her red eyes soaked with fear. Cannoli wanted to offer consoling words, but Sister Allegra ushered her into the dark hallway before she had the chance.

“[Illuminate],” Allegra murmured as she extended her wand. A soft glow lit the stone pathway as they walked, and Cannoli did her best to keep her breathing steady and even.

At last, they reached a room of…mirrors? Cannoli blinked. An unbroken circle of glass wrapped around the circular room. Silver metal wrapped and twisted around the glass’s top edge in an elaborate design, imbued with dozens of glittering sapphires that returned the glow of Allegra’s wand. However, while Cannoli could see the blurred reflections of their hair and robes in the silver, the glass remained empty.

Allegra guided Cannoli by the shoulder to the center of the room. “Kneel here.”

Cannoli did as she was told and sank to her knees. “Can [Beseeching Chant] be cast while standing?”

“Yes. But, for your first test, kneeling is less…strenuous,” Sister Allegra said.

“Okay.”

“Whatever you may witness in this room will remain with me in confidence.” Sister Allegra stepped back. “Are you ready?”

“I believe so.” Cannoli worked to keep her voice calm. She clasped her hands at her chest.

“Begin casting.”

“Saoirse, guide my hands to good.” Something in the glass moved. Cannoli focused her gaze on the ground. “Guide my heart to pure.”

“Cannoli,” a voice that crawled down her spine and raised the hairs on the back of her neck crooned. “Playing at [Priest] like Mommy again?”

Kirti. “Cleanse this vessel within and without…” The warmth of Cannoli’s Spell surrounded her being. She just had to concentrate.

“Do you really believe you can save people? Even though you refused to save one of your closest friends?” Kirti laughed. “Pathetic.”

“S–so that we… So that we may…” The words evaded her, replaced by Kirti’s mocking. The warmth vanished, and Cannoli gasped.

“Start again,” Sister Allegra said calmly.

Cannoli hissed in a breath and restarted her prayer. “Saoirse, guide my hands to good. Guide my heart to pure. Cleanse this vessel within and without—”

“I didn’t want to come back for you.”

The words locked in Cannoli’s throat. Her toes curled, and a cold panic slid from her ears to the tip of her tail. “S–Saoirse, guide my hands to g–good—”

“I wanted to stay with him.” Aurora sank to one knee, and her voice projected as if she were inches from Cannoli’s ear. “Other kittens do just fine raised by their nyannies, but not you. No, you sent Elona after me.”

Tears welled in Cannoli’s eyes. Fear, panic, anger, and frustration clutched her chest, and it was impossible to breathe. “S–Saoirse… Please…”

“You’re the reason Keke lost her mother.”

Cannoli buried her face in her hands and screamed.

 

Chapter 288: Implication

Ravyn stomped down the ramp, away from the Emberlynn estate. Thunder boomed in the distance, but her gaze was glued to the smooth streets of Zhuli. She bumped into someone and then quickly sidestepped them. The woman barked her frustration at Ravyn as she passed. The words didn’t register.

“Ravyn, what’s wrong?” Bally asked. “You haven’t said a thing all morning.”

Ravyn came to a halt in an alleyway between two shops. On the off chance that she was being followed, she peered around the corners to ensure no one was there, then withdrew into the alley and pressed her back against the wall.

“My mother is up to something, and I have to figure out what it is,” she whispered.

“Talk to me. I don’t understand.”

She crossed her arms and rubbed the back of her biceps. It did nothing to alleviate the cold, sinking feeling in her stomach. “I…think my mother is to blame for the Defiled.”

Bally narrowed his eyes into slits. “What would she gain from that?”

“I don’t know yet.” She shook her head. “But there’s no way a Defiled would go so long without being discovered. Not in Zhuli.”

“Ravyn. Your mother is deathly ill. Perhaps if—”

“Bally,” Ravyn hissed. “Sick or not, she is a Third Class. Not just any Third Class, either, but the [Arbiter] of Zhuli. Her name travels well beyond San Island. Even Destiny knew who she was.” She slid down the wall until she was seated, then pulled her legs close and wrapped her arms around them. “She has toppled foe after foe without so much as blinking. The Spells she weaves, the minds she’s bested”—she coughed a laugh—“this has her fucking hands all over it.”

“What do you intend to do about it?” Bally tucked his wings and landed on the ground in front of her. “I wish you would’ve said something while Tristan was still here.”

“No. I’m not roping him into this. He doesn’t deserve it.” She leveled her gaze on the opposite wall. Her eye twitched with how clean it was. “Besides, I may have an edge with him gone. She may let her guard down.”

Bally clicked his beak. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I.” She rose to her feet and dusted herself off. “Let’s do some investigating.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Interviews.”

To begin, she’d need to dispel some assumptions about the Defiled. Anyone who looked at it would have noticed the numerous faces and voices it mimicked. Such magic was rare and dangerous; the only example that came to mind was the scroll of [Impersonate Soul] that she had used on Matt. However, that alone would not be sufficient to prove that the Defiled had eaten or come into contact with the faces it displayed. Defiled magic was unlike any other.

But if she coupled interviews with research, it was possible she’d be able to explain how the Defiled performed such misdeeds. Or at least build a working theory.

“I feel like I’m back in school,” Ravyn sighed. “Well, we need to compile a list first. [Combat Mode].” Her Shulan attire disappeared, replaced by the robes Yukari had made changes to. She felt a surge of [Magic] fill her veins, and the urge to burn Emberlynn’s mansion to the ground came with it.

“Don’t burn Zhuli to the ground,” Bally said as he perched on her shoulder.

“I won’t. Just my mother’s estate.” She stepped forward and turned. Even from here, she could see the lavish buildings. She clicked her tongue. “Fucking eyesore.”

“You’re getting distracted.”

“Right.” Ravyn dug into her [Cat Pack] and extracted a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink. She set them on the ground, then plucked a quill from Bally’s wing.

“Ow. I wish you wouldn’t do that.” He puffed up and shook his feathers. “A familiar’s feather isn’t like a normal bird’s.”

“I know. That’s why I took it.” The magic behind familiars was temporary in nature. Within a few hours, the feather would disappear, and with it, any evidence that it had existed. Bally was helpful to a [Sorcerer] like Ravyn who was in need of quills from time to time. She dipped the quill into the ink bottle, then wrote a short heading labeled ‘Names.’

“There.” She rolled up the parchment and returned it to her [Cat Pack], along with the ink. She rose to her feet and then walked out of the alleyway. “Time to get our list.”

Marching back to the gates that led up to the Emberlynn estate, she waved over one of the guards.

The woman jogged over to her, her armor clinking. “Yes, mistress?”

“I need the names of all citizens reported missing from the last six months.”

The woman—a newer guard from the looks of it—frowned. “Missing reports?”

“Yes. Mother—Emberlynn should have kept a report of anyone who may be missing. I would like to see the list of names.”

“Hm. That may take a bit.”

Ravyn crossed her arms. “I’ll wait.”

A few minutes later, the guard returned with a rolled-up parchment. “This is our sole copy. I hope you understand that I can’t give this to you.”

“I figured. I came prepared.” Ravyn procured her ink bottle and parchment, then found a section of the wall with a groove large enough for her ink bottle to rest. She placed the bottle, then readied her quill. “Go ahead.”

Penning down the names took time, but it was worth the trouble. To her relief, the guards had recorded the descriptions of the missing girls and the name and description of the person who had reported them missing. Considering the weight of the requested information, there was a chance that her meddling would find its way back to Emberlynn. But it was a risk she had to take. She just hoped that being Emberlynn’s daughter would cast away suspicion.

“Thanks,” Ravyn said. She penned the last name and returned her writing supplies to her [Cat Pack]. “You’re doing good work. Keep it up.”

“Y-yes, mistress.” The woman saluted.

Ravyn offered her a curt nod and carried on her way. The first name on the list was Serenity, the granddaughter of Kasira.

Locating the woman who matched Kasira’s description didn’t take long. An older woman bearing streaks of white and black hair was tending to a pen of chickens outside the Zhuli gates. The pattern extended to her tail and ears, and a small chunk of skin was carved out of her left ear. Modest robes of brown and white clothed her, tied tight with a dark sash around her midsection.

“Excuse me, Miss Kasira?” Ravyn approached and pitched her voice higher, as was customary in Zhuli when speaking to those who were older than you. The woman glanced at her over her shoulder, wiped the snot from her nose, and then turned around to face her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I wanted to ask you some questions regarding the Defiled attack.”

The woman scoffed. “Now you come to talk.” She tossed away the seeds in her hand. They clanged against the sheets of metal that made up the chicken coop, and the birds screeched. “It has been how long, and only now you are doing a proper investigation?” Her voice was thick with the old Zhuli accent, and her word choice put Ravyn on edge. She spat on the ground just short of hitting Ravyn’s shoe.

This was going to be a bad day. “I’ve lost dear ones, too, so I understand what you’re going through. But I need your help to figure out how this happened.”

The woman’s breathing was erratic. Her wrinkled face contorted and twisted into a myriad of emotions. Ravyn felt like she was watching the entire grieving process take place on her face. Eventually, she nodded.

Ravyn drew a deep breath before continuing. “Thank you. Just to confirm, what was your granddaughter’s name?”

“Serenity.”

“And when was the last time you saw your granddaughter?”

The woman sniffed, then coughed into her elbow. “A few months ago.”

Ravyn nodded and procured her parchment and ink from her [Cat Pack]. Bally sat on her head the entire time, preening himself while she wrote. “I know it might not sound important, but how long have you lived on San Island?” She bore a traditional San Island name. Something of a rarity nowadays outside of Zhuli.

Kasira’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “My whole life. I have lived in Zhuli since your grandmother was alive.”

That would’ve been before she was born. “When your granddaughter left, where did she say she was going?”

“She told me she wanted to meet a friend of hers in Shulan. Promised me she would not be gone for more than a couple of weeks.” Tears threatened to fall from Kasira’s eyes. Her cheeks were already as red as nyapples, and Ravyn’s toes squirmed and curled. Kasira waved the air in front of her face and licked her cracked lips. “Months passed, and I worried.” She bowed her head. “When I heard the rumors, somehow I…I just knew.”

Ravyn chewed her tongue while she penned Kasira’s tale of the events. “When you started to worry about where your granddaughter must be, did you tell the guards?”

Kasira nodded. “Of course. But she was young and stubborn like most girls her age, so the guards did nothing.” She sighed. “At the time, I could not blame them. It is not uncommon for one to go to Shulan and never return.”

Which makes it an easy story to lean on when you have something to hide. Ravyn nodded, and glanced up from her notes. “Thank you. Can you give me a description of what your granddaughter looked like?” While the guards had taken it down, it was better to hear things from the source.

The woman laughed, and it sounded forced. “Imagine me but much younger. Serenity has vibrant green eyes, white and black hair, and a smile to light the streets of Zhuli.” Her voice trailed. “She is… She is thin. Short. Freckles. Brimming with life.”

Ravyn shut her eyes, and her blood boiled. Not at Kasira, but at Emberlynn—sick or not—for dragging their name through the mud and refusing to give this woman the closure she needed. Kasira would never see her granddaughter again.

With another deep breath, Ravyn opened her eyes, carefully rolled up the parchment, and placed it in her [Cat Pack].

“Thank you, Kasira.” She bowed at the waist. It felt awkward and stilted, and it felt as if Zhuli’s tempered fingers crawled over her skin. But she was willing to show a shred of traditional decency to Kasira if it would bring her some semblance of peace. “I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened.”

Kasira nodded, then turned back to her chickens and apologized for upsetting them. Ravyn turned and made her way back to the main street of Zhuli. She glanced at Kasira on her way back. The woman was quiet and unmoving.

Ravyn ground her teeth. “This isn’t right,” she hissed as a group walked by.

“Bunch of roachshit, bunch of roachshit! Squaaawwwk!”

The women quickened their pace away from Bally, and Ravyn snickered. “Very good, Bally! That’s right!” She reached up and scratched her familiar behind his head. “What a good boy you are!” When the women were out of earshot, she whispered, “Mother’s going to pay.”

“Take great care,” Bally whispered just loud enough for Ravyn to hear.

By the time Ravyn had finished her interviews, she was on the verge of tears. Hearing the stories of mothers, daughters, and close friends losing one another was enough to reopen old wounds and stir memories of Finn and Yomi. Her mind invented new scenarios where Matt or Cannoli died next.

The world began to spin, and her breathing hitched in her throat. I can’t do that again. I can’t. She slumped against the wall of a shop and hid her face behind her knees. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. How the hell was she supposed to calm an entire village when she could hardly move past her own memories? Tears edged into the corners of her eyes, and she wrapped her tail around her calves.

“The living still need you, Ravyn,” Bally whispered against her hair. “Let the dead rest.”

Ravyn nodded and slowed her breathing.

“You promised to stop running.”

The pounding in her ears died down. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bally.”

“You don’t have to.”

The spiral slowed to a stop, and her mind began to clear. No one else could help Zhuli. This rested on her shoulders. She steeled herself and stood.

Now that she had spoken to the friends and families of the victims, she was sure that the Defiled was responsible for the deaths of these women. Of the twenty-two names on the list, five of them had returned. The other seventeen, however, had all conveniently disappeared on their way to Shulan. When their disappearances were combined with the emergence of the Defiled, it was clear what had happened.

Even so… That still doesn’t prove my mother was responsible. Only negligent.

What remained was the mystery of the Defiled’s lifespan. None of this would matter unless she could prove that the creature was permitted to live due to her mother’s machinations. She needed something from the creature. Something important and indisputable.

“Karaka,” Ravyn mumbled as the realization hit her.

“Ka—?”

Ravyn spun around and marched in the direction of the restaurant. Bally clung to the hem of her dress with one talon, squeaking and squawking as she walked. She swung open the door to Karaka’s restaurant, then held her palm upward and summoned a glowing ball of fire, illuminating the room. She held the flame to her left, then to her right, then shut the door behind her.

“What is your intent here?” Bally hissed as he resumed his station atop her head.

“Quiet,” Ravyn said with a finger to her lips.

The restaurant was even creepier than she remembered. The scent had somehow worsened from before, and the way the wood squeaked beneath her weight gave her pause. When she entered the main dining room, she approached the wall and carefully leaned the ball of flame closer to where they’d found the black tendril.

A dark brown stain in the shape of the tentacle colored the wall, just above the remnants of a puddle at the corner where the floor and wall met. Ravyn used her free hand to tug at the mat that covered the floor, but the adhesive held firm.

“You’re up,” Ravyn whispered and raised her hand to her head. Bally shifted to her hand, and she guided him to the floor.

“You’re joking.”

“We’ll be here all night if it’s just my nails.”

The familiar rolled his eyes. “Not one of my prouder moments.” Bally tore through the mat within seconds with his powerful beak. By the time he was done, the mat was in shreds tossed to the side to expose the floorboards underneath. He hopped back onto her shoulder when he was done, and Ravyn leaned over.

“What is that?” she murmured. A hole roughly twice the width of her arm had been torn through the wood. The edges were stained with black. What followed seconds later was a scent like no other. “Saoirse’s tits, what the fuck is that smell?”

“Don’t,” Bally warned as he hopped forward. “Let me.”

“No,” Ravyn hissed. “I will not let you do that.”

“I can come back. You can’t.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m your master, and as your master, you will do as I say.”

Bally sighed. “Ravyn, this—”

“No. End of discussion.” As she leaned forward to get a better view inside, she slowly dropped her hand to illuminate the area. Her body trembled. She kept her brow knit, tightened the muscles in her fingers, and breathed slow and steady. It worked; she stilled.

At first, she couldn’t see anything. Much of the hole was lit by the flame, and from what little she could see, it seemed to continue down. It could hardly be classified as a hole. There was an expanse down there—a tunnel.

Ravyn’s mouth dried, and a sense of hesitation stilled her when the familiar shape of a catgirl’s ear came into view.

“Ravyn,” Bally hissed.

Ravyn lowered the flame, and the rest of the figure came into view as her eyes widened. Inside was the rotting half of a catgirl’s skull. Ravyn’s breath hitched, and her hand continued to lower, revealing more and more of the corpse. As its body became more defined, she saw that bits and pieces of the catgirl were missing. A bone here, a muscle there. Spatters of acid pocked the rim of the girl’s skin where flesh was missing, and the smell…

Ravyn covered her mouth with the back of her hand, gagging and averting her gaze.

“Do you feel that?” Bally asked.

“Yes,” she said after a pause. The faintest trickle of Myana snaked through the air around them. It flowed upward with an almost sentient desire to be acknowledged. Even the gentlest Spells used more Myana than what she felt crawling out of that pit.

She concentrated on the sensation, following it with her free hand and stopping short when she felt it slithering out of the hole. The thought of the corpse coming back to life occurred to her, and visceral images of her time spent on Shi Island returned.

She shook her head. Her knowledge of necromancy was rudimentary at best, but even she knew that reanimating a corpse would take a substantial amount more Myana. She constantly reminded herself of that fact while she reached into the hole.

“Careful, Ravyn,” Bally warned, “we don’t know what that magic might do.”

“I-I know that,” she stammered.

With the bonus [Magic] granted to her by her new robes, the intent of the Myana became clearer as she neared. Yes, indeed, all it wished for was to be noticed, to be seen. This Spell was nothing more than a beacon. She dug her hand into the dirt, squirming and hissing through her teeth.

As her fingers dug deeper, the flow of Myana became stronger until, eventually, her fingertip grazed something tough. “I think I found something.”

She scooped her hand around the object and pulled it free. She swept away what remained of the dirt, then held it at eye level. Her breath caught.

“Ravyn, that’s—”

“A garnet,” she finished for Bally. “A fucking garnet.”

 

A note from DoubleBlind:

A huge thank you to Jack for sponsoring this chapter!

---​

Side Quest: Blood in the Cut (NSFW)

Magni circled the ring, watching Sanrai fall into step and do the same on the opposite edge. He’d exchanged his armor for a loose tunic and tight-fitting pants. She donned her Ejderha leathers, as usual. The sun barely crested over the horizon, and the cool desert air lingered on Magni’s skin.

“I still do not see the urgency to this sparring session,” Magni called.

“If the whelps return, you must be ready,” Sanrai replied.

He adjusted the grip on his sword and sneered. “I must be ready? Was it not you who begged me for the chance to cut them to ribbons since they arrived?”

Sanrai launched off her back foot and shot toward him, spear held at the ready. She roared, and the ground beneath them trembled. She never was much for banter.

Magni silently called on a chain from the void and clutched it in his fist. “[Void Grip],” he murmured. A portal opened beneath Sanrai, and a shadowy hand reached up to snatch her ankle.

“[Refuse to Kneel]!” Sanrai growled. The hand shattered into a hundred tiny black fragments, and she continued her advance.

Magni frowned. He despised that Skill. The chain he held would be of no use for at least a few seconds.

The moment Sanrai was in range, she thrust her spear forward. Magni parried it easily with the flat of his greatsword.

“[Upheaval]!” Sanrai slammed the point of her spear into the ground. Shards of rock and a cloud of sand burst from the pitch, followed by inky black tendrils that exploded into a thick mist meant to blind her enemies.

It was impossible to see her next movement, but he knew her footsteps better than any in his court, no matter how carefully she stepped. Amongst the falling rubble and blinding fog, the fast-approaching footfalls behind him caught his ear. [Refuse to Kneel] should have run its course.

“[Inescapable Judgement]!” Magni spun on his heel and whipped the chain forward, fishing for Sanrai in the darkness. The end snapped around its target, and he yanked back.

As the mist cleared, the tip of Sanrai’s spear pressed into Magni’s throat. His chain had wrapped around her waist, still allowing her free movement of her arms and legs.

He furrowed his brow. “That was meant to bind your legs.”

“I know. I compensated.” Sanrai flicked her wrist, cutting a tiny line into Magni’s skin. “You are too sure of yourself.”

“And you are too bold,” Magni snarled and touched the incision. He drew his hand back to find fresh blood painting his fingertips. No female creature would have dared harm him in this world or the last. Never had Sanrai acted so brutally in their training.

“What if they return with reinforcements?”

“Reinforcements?” Magni released the chain and laughed. “The Chikara will rend those children without mercy. Their time in Rājadhānī is at an end.”

Rage glittered in Sanrai’s sanguine eyes. “Your complacency will be your undoing.” She snapped her spear in a curve that resolved to the left of his torso.

A second cut burned over his ribcage, and blood trickled down his scales. Fury boiled in his veins. “Who do you think you are, læn’shi?” It seemed there wasn’t a word befitting of the curse in the Nyarlean language.

“The only one you trust, my king.” She moved the spear’s tip to the center of his chest. “One who doesn’t deserve to be called anything less than your second.”

Sanrai was a constant test of his patience and his mettle. More disturbingly, she was a test of his emotions. Her cold, calculating nature and obsession with battle paralleled Magni’s peers in his first life. She was his second; he’d named her as such years before. But the term and position seemed to carry a hidden weight between them that never breached the surface.

“What does that mean to you, Sanrai?” Magni watched the edge of her weapon slowly move south, slicing through the threads of his tunic.

“I am your weapon, my king. Deployed to keep you safe—”

“No. Not the words you’ve memorized. The ones you bury.”

The corner of her mouth twitched in a sardonic smile. Her anger continued to burn in her gaze. “Those are reserved for a man with less arrogance.”

He snatched the leather wrappings just beneath the spear’s head with a mind to snap it in half. “What if I agree to your overcautious training regimen and prepare for their unlikely return? Would you have different words for me?”

In two lightning-strike movements, Sanrai jerked the spear down so that the two points on the back end dug into his hand and then twisted the handle. The metal carved two new wounds, and Magni let go.

He opened his mouth to bellow a string of curses he thought he’d left behind in his first life. His thoughts were stopped short when Sanrai threw her spear to the ground and snatched his wrist.

“Words are empty.” She splayed his fingers and brought his hand to her mouth. Locking his gaze, she swept the beads of blood away with her tongue.

Magni’s curses died in his throat. Her smile widened, and her ears flicked forward. The cut sang beneath her warm tongue, and his heart raced. This catgirl. This creature. He’d watched the thrill of the hunt mold her features countless times, but he was never her prey.

He was no one’s prey.

Magni rotated his wrist, bringing her hand around with it, then caught her by the wrist. He dropped his sword and summoned a new chain, snapping it around her neck. “Must I bring you to heel?”

Sanrai gasped, but her smile never wavered. “Why? Because I understand you?” She reached forward, touched the cut on his throat, and then brought it to her lips. “Because you enjoy this?”

Magni worked his jaw. The others on his island demanded his flesh, while Sanrai demanded his very essence.

“What do you wish to do to me, my king? Hurt me?” Sanrai whispered.

Heat spread from his chest to his fingertips. Provocative visions danced just beyond his reach, and his hand tightened around the chain. The dragon he’d kept at bay since his rebirth roared and crashed against his inhibitions.

She licked her lips. “What’s stopping you?”

Magni laughed, and the dragon broke free. He ripped the chain downward, forcing Sanrai to her knees. She hissed in a breath of air and snagged her fingers in his tunic, tearing it open on her way down. Excellent. He’d expected nothing less of her.

He raked his claws over her back, slicing through the leather straps of her top and leaving red ribbons over her black tattoos and tan skin. She made a sound between a moan and a laugh, adding tinder to a roaring flame.

“This is what you want?” he purred.

“More.”

Dropping the chain, he wrapped her tied-back hair around one hand and her tail around the other, then dragged her forward so her hands hit the ground and the pitch bit into her knees. He bent forward and sank his teeth around one of the fresh claw marks. Sanrai’s blood teased his tongue, and her cry powered his desire.

She buried her fingers in the ground and arched her back. Magni grinned, she would—

“[Clawing Advance],” she whispered.

His grip loosened as he moved to react, but she was far too close. A circle of rock surrounded her fist in an Enchanted glove, and she struck the chain, breaking the Spell and her leash. With the remaining strength granted by the Skill, she drove herself into Magni’s chest, knocking him off balance and bringing him to the ground. She straddled him at the hips and curled her tail around his thigh.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Sanrai growled.

“You clever minx—”

Sanrai scratched her nails down his chest and pressed hard into the wound above his scales, simultaneously grinding her hips into his. The mixture of pain and pleasure won her a groan he failed to dissolve in his throat.

“That’s a title for your feeble court, my king.” She leaned down and traced her tongue over his scales, following the trickles of red back to the cut. “Not for me.”

He hissed in a breath. “What must I do to force your submission?”

She sat back and grinned. “Expect disappointment.”

Magni grabbed the severed straps of her top and ripped it away.

Sanrai’s sharp smile only widened as she flexed her shoulders backward, allowing him complete access to her bare breasts. “And what will you do now?”

“Accept your offering.” Magni thrust his hips upward and rolled to the side. Without the additions from her Skills, she couldn’t hope to match his [Strength].

A cloud of dust enveloped them as she hit her back. He pinned both wrists above her head with one hand and wrapped the other around her throat. Shifting his weight to his lower body, he positioned himself on her upper thighs, fixing her in place.

Before the dust settled, his teeth were around her nipple, biting and sucking her skin until he felt the gooseflesh flare around his mouth.

“[Break the—”

Magni clenched his palm around her throat, choking the words from her lips. He bit down hard, and a strangled moan vibrated against his hand as her back arched. He moved to trace the taut arc of her stomach with his tongue, ending his journey at her second breast.

He loosened his grip on her neck and relished the sound of her fighting for air; her rasps were tinged with laughter, pleasurable exhales, and jagged hisses of air.

Had Sanrai always been so magnificent?

“My king—”

He choked her again, moving his mouth from her chest to her lips. “Magni,” he corrected against her skin.

Sanrai leaned into his grasp and bit his lower lip; her gaze exuded a challenge that her words could not. He closed his eyes and plunged his tongue between her teeth, stealing what remained of her breath from her throat. Then he let her writhe against him for just a few… more… heartbeats…

When he released her throat entirely, she sucked in air through her nose and fought for it inside of their kiss. Her nails dug into the back of his hand, but it was a minor inconvenience in exchange for seizing her control. He lowered his free hand to her trousers and snapped off the buckle, tearing the remaining strip of leather from its confines.

Sanrai forced her head to the side and hissed air between her teeth. “Coward.”

He hesitated at the fastening of her pants. “What did you say?”

“You take your pleasure with all of Ichi Island.” She turned back to face him, never flinching. “But you fear letting me have mine.”

Magni’s eyes widened. His yearning to hold her down and fuck her senseless beat inside his ears like a thousand drums. He struggled to recall the last time he’d felt so passionately about another person. He slowly lifted his hand from her wrists.

She launched upward and pushed him back, aligning her body to his as they fell. Her kiss was starved and searching; her hands tore his tunic away from his arms. Despite him lying beneath her, the beast within him savored the sensations of her bare chest against his and her desperate kiss.

He mapped the lines of her back with both hands, spreading what flowed from her wounds over her tattoos. She shivered and reached for his belt, unhooking it with impressive agility before whipping it away. He unhooked the fastenings of her trousers and dragged them down to her knees.

Sanrai stood to strip the rest of the fabric down her legs, then kicked them off to the side. The muscles in her thighs tensed as she dropped back down to straddle his hips. She pulled his pants down just far enough to free his erection, then ran her lithe fingers across the full length of his shaft. He gasped.

“Being your second means I’m yours, Magni.” She raised her flank and positioned the head of his cock at her center. “And you’re mine.”

“Sanrai—”

She lowered herself, stealing the words from his lips. So many others had hesitated and often complained that he was too much. But not Sanrai. Her body welcomed his without resistance, slick and searing with the same burning that rushed through his veins. She sank her fingers into his chest and wiggled her hips. “This is—ha—better than I imagined.”

Magni smirked and rested his palms on her thighs, just barely thrusting into her. His heart skipped when she whimpered. “Take your pleasure, Sanrai.”

“Mmh.” Sanrai rolled her hips forward, then sat back, another low, breathy hum escaping her lips. The morning sun reflected off the sweat on her chest and face. The scorn she wore like a second skin began to vanish from her expression—her furrowed brow relaxed, her eyes widened, and her lips shifted from a scowl to a delicious gape.

Her pace was slow but deliberate, and with every rotation, Magni felt her spread wider, molding and fitting around him as if her body was made for his.

Magni fished Sanrai’s tail out from behind her and fingered it from base to tip. Her cries grew more desperate, and her twitches reverberated through him.

“I-I’m close.” She caressed his throat. “How do I bring you with me?”

He repositioned his hands on her thighs. “Let me move.”

“No.”

Magni snarled. “Then go faster.”

Sanrai grabbed his shoulders and used him as an anchor to speed her thrusts. Her tension grew as she drew closer to orgasm, and watching her work him with such determination fed his pleasure.

“Just like that,” Magni groaned and grabbed her wrists.

It took every modicum of self-control not to disobey her command. But inside his relinquished control was something new. Something dark.

Magni would give Sanrai anything she asked.

Her name melted inside his climax-soaked cry just as her convulsions locked down around him.

She bucked against him, but her eyes never left his face. Always watching him. Just as he did her.

Sanrai’s onslaught slowed, and her hands quivered. Her wry smile returned, and she licked her lips.

“What am I to you, Magni?”

Lying in the arena’s center, bared to the world, Magni marveled at his second in command. Not a minx. Nor a læn’shi.

This merciless, terrifying woman was his queen.

 

A note from DoubleBlind:

A huge thank you to our new Patron, Obbs!

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Chapter 289: Root

A drizzle wet the fabric of Ravyn’s [Combat Mode] attire as she marched up the streets of Zhuli toward her mother’s estate. Her blood boiled at the thought of Yanni’s friend being partially eaten by the Defiled while Emberlynn played the fool. She balled her hands into fists, and the hair on her tail and ears stood up. Her lip twitched as Bally whispered to her.

“Ravyn. Ravyn, stop. Listen to me.”

“No,” she hissed.

“I know you’re upset, but I implore you to stop and think for a moment.”

She could barely hear him. Her thoughts were devoured by images of the estate up in flames, the soil salted, and the people evacuated in case her mother had any other malicious plans.

“Please, Ravyn. If you go in there right now—”

“Then what?” she snapped.

“Who will take your side?”

Ravyn’s march slowed. Blood mingled with rain in the palms of her hands, her nails having dug fine points into her skin. The tension in her shoulders dissipated, and her sense of reason gradually returned.

“Take my side?” she whispered the words like a statement. Not a single soul within the estate would listen to her. They had no reason to. Emberlynn was the mistress of the household, not her. “Nobody.”

Bally sighed, then spun his head around when a woman walked by, seemingly making a point to keep distance between her and Ravyn. “Back off, bitch, squaaaawk!” The woman hurried on her way, and the familiar leaned closer to Ravyn’s ear. “If we go in there, we need to go in with a plan.”

Ravyn slowly nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” The last conversation between her and Emberlynn was a tumultuous one. Surely, Emberlynn must have detected the fear in Ravyn’s voice, her tone…her body language. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide it all, and Emberlynn would have noticed the slightest change in her approach. Emberlynn must have been aware that Ravyn suspected her of the Defiled’s attacks.

The determination left her as if swept up by the wind. She swallowed hard, and where there had initially been feelings of fury, hatred, and bottled-up words best left for a final farewell, she struggled to move. Her body began to shake, and the sudden feeling that she was being watched washed over her.

“Ravyn. Ravyn,” Bally hissed. “Come. Let’s go somewhere else for a time.”

“R-right. Let’s get the fuck away from here.”

The rain worsened, and Ravyn plucked an umbrella from one of the community bins—it rained often enough in Zhuli that it was easier to share. Popping it open, she scratched the back of Bally’s neck while she looked for a corner where they could speak in private. She picked out one of the smaller districts of the village, where the lights of a few tiny shops glittered in the rainfall. She took refuge beneath a veranda and put her back against the wall, twirling the umbrella while she contemplated.

“What do you want to do?”

Ravyn blinked. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “My mother is quite possibly the most powerful [Arbiter] in all of Nyarlea.” She reflected on the numerous visits from the Queen’s Guard when they were in need of powerful Enchantments, though the queen had never personally made the journey. “She has decades of possible Enchantments at her disposal.”

“Ravyn, are you suggesting she would hurt you?” Bally’s tone hinted at disbelief.

“I’m not sure anymore.” She nudged her shoulder forward. Bally took the hint and hopped down so that he stood in front of her feet. “She’s a master manipulator, that much has never changed. But I was always certain that she would never do anything to hurt me.” She sighed and used her free hand to retrieve the garnet she found in Karaka’s home. “Thanks for stopping me.”

Bally shook the water off of his feathers and stepped onto her foot. “Of course.”

As Ravyn rolled the garnet between her pointer finger and thumb, she considered her options. Bally was right that going in there right now would do nothing for them. In fact, it could hurt her position and destroy any chance of bringing her mother to justice. Even if Emberlynn’s Myana was held within the stone, that wouldn’t be enough to prove that she’d done anything. Besides, Emberlynn was a sickly woman, and she would use that to her advantage.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m wondering if we made a mistake in coming here.” Rolling the garnet helped her concentrate. “I’m not sure Yanni or my mother’s word will do much of anything.” Little Myana remained in the stone, but it felt warm to the touch, like a burnt-out coal. “Even if it does get Melody and the others to agree to work with Shi Island, I worry that my mother will just see it as another business opportunity.” The anger returned and she clenched the stone in her grip. “Fuck, I hate the games she plays.”

“What if she isn’t responsible for the Defiled?”

Ravyn shook her head. “It’s too convenient, Bally. You don’t know her like I do. You didn’t see the way she talked to others. How she wormed her way into conversations. Thanks to her dealings, Zhuli has always been the safest place to live on San Island.” She scoffed. “She’s demented. Countless catgirls fell at her feet for a chance to work together. A woman like her is always three steps ahead.”

“Then, if we return, they’ll likely keep a close watch on us. Assuming they haven't already.” Ball preened a feather from his wing and tossed it into the street. It landed in a small puddle, floating across the surface. “We don’t have the evidence to damn her.”

“There has to be somebody who knows what’s going on here.”

“Is there someone she would trust with such delicate information?”

Ravyn shook her head. Emberlynn would never have been so foolish as to share her misdeeds with another. Anyone who worked with her to accomplish her goals would likely have done so without knowing.

If Ravyn was going to ask someone about the possibility, she’d need to choose her words carefully. She looked at the estate.

“There may be one person we can trust,” Ravyn said. She returned the garnet to her [Cat Pack] and pushed away from the wall.

Ball Gag flew up to her shoulder and nuzzled his face against her cheek. “Who?”

“Yukari.”

Ravyn wasn’t looking forward to greeting the icy-cold catgirl again. Their prior conversation during tea time had warmed the air somewhat, but Yukari’s expressions put her on edge. There was always a chill in the air, and she had a creepy way of predicting what was going to be said before it was stated. In many ways, that trait reminded Ravyn a lot of Yukari’s mother, Sachiko. Just a lot less talkative.

Sliding the santo door to the side, Ravyn entered just as Yukari turned sideways with a “Welcome in!” The tone in her voice was so uncharacteristically cheery that Ravyn almost felt bad for entering her home. Almost. Yukari’s face fell when she saw Ravyn. “Ah. You again. Were the clothes not short enough?”

“Mou ii.” Ravyn rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her. Bally flew away and perched on a room divider. After putting her umbrella in a bin by the door, she removed her shoes and stepped forward. “Is this a bad time?”

Yukari exhaled through her nose. “Still no manners. You must need something.”

This fucking woman. “Yes, fine. I do. Can you please hear me out? It’s important,” Ravyn said.

Yukari tucked her arms into the sleeves of her robe. “Very well.” She flicked her head toward the door. “Turn the sign and lock up.”

Ravyn turned the sign outside to say ‘Closed,’ then shut the door and flipped the lock at the center. She turned around and stepped into the living room, stopping short when she heard labored breathing and wheezing upstairs.

Yukari glanced up. “A moment.” She made her way up the stairs against the back of the room and called down, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“As if I could ever get comfortable here,” Ravyn muttered.

Ravyn listened to muffled footsteps and the pattering rain while she waited.

“Have you given thought about what happens afterward?” Bally whispered.

Ravyn crossed her arms and glanced at her familiar. “I’ll figure it out when we get there.” The truth was, she had thought about it quite a bit. If Emberlynn was usurped from her position, then that would leave two others to take her spot, and Sophia was much too young.

“There.” Yukari’s voice broke Ravyn free of her thoughts. She pointed down a hall across from the stairs and strode forward without another word.

Ravyn paused, then followed. As she turned the corner, she watched Yukari open the door to another room—the same one they’d used to speak during tea time—and enter. Ravyn beckoned her familiar over on her way toward the room, and the bird took flight before perching on her shoulder.

Yukari was already seated on the floor at the far end of a table by the time Ravyn entered. She gestured to the spot opposite.

“What is it you wish to discuss?” Yukari asked.

Ravyn shut the door and seated herself. She wasn’t sure how to start. In fact, she wasn’t even sure how Yukari could help her. But she could think of no other person in Zhuli who might trust her. “It’s about the Defiled attack.”

Yukari hummed, then tilted her head to one side. “What of it?”

Ravyn bowed her head to avoid Yukari’s icy gaze. Her fingers writhed beneath the table. Speaking with her felt oddly similar to talking with her mother. Bally hopped onto the table, standing at the edge beside Ravyn. “Did you feel that it was…”

“Strange?” Yukari finished.

Ravyn looked up, then nodded.

“I did,” Yukari continued. “I find it difficult to believe that such a creature lived beneath the soil of Zhuli without Mistress Emberlynn’s knowledge.”

Ravyn’s heart pounded against her chest. A faint hope tugged at the fibers of her being. But more clarifying questions would need to be asked first. She had to be sure that Yukari could be trusted. “Why do you say that?”

Yukari raised a brow. “You have seen the numerous garnets placed around the village, have you not?”

Ravyn felt like she was being treated like a child, but she swallowed her pride and nodded. “Yeah. Of course. My mother has been placing those around the village since I was a kitten.”

Garnets were a part of Zhuli as much as magic was a part of San Island. Emberlynn and the generations before spent their livelihood Enchanting the garnets and placing them around the roads to light the villagers’ way during the evening.

“And you are aware of the warding Enchantment she places on them as well, are you not?”

Wards? This was new information. “No,” Ravyn admitted. “What do you mean?”

Yukari paused. “I suppose it has been some time.” A rare smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I do not know the specifics as to how they work or what they do exactly, but the garnets are Enchanted with more than just light. They have been useful in locating escaping Encroachers and keeping the peace between residents.”

Ravyn frowned. “When did she start adding wards?”

“I believe it was when she fell ill. She expressed concern over the possibility that she could not defend Zhuli from Defiled attacks.”

Ravyn and Bally exchanged glances. “I see.” A brief silence passed while she thought of another question. “So, Moth—Emberlynn fills the stones with Myana for light and Enchants them?”

“It is not Emberlynn who fills them with Myana, but Alia, her [Wizard].”

“How do you know?”

Yukari’s smile widened. “You are not the only one looking into this.”

Ravyn shook her head. Pinning the Defiled attack on her was going to be harder than she thought. Being as sickly as she was, expending Myana could prove dangerous to Emberlynn’s health. [Wizard]s, however, were exceptional when it came to the transferring of Myana from person to stone.

Fuck! This still proves nothing!

Emberlynn had covered her tracks. Confronting her regarding the stone Ravyn had found put Emberlynn in a perfect spot to pin the blame on Alia. Exhuming the corpse under Karaka’s home wouldn’t do any good, either. All it would prove was that the Defiled hadn’t finished its meal. Even the stone’s presence in the restaurant meant nothing. Anyone could carry a garnet on them.

“Ravyn,” Yukari said, “speak candidly.” Seconds passed, and the tension in her shoulders evaporated. “We are friends, are we not? Or have I misunderstood our relationship?”

Perhaps it was time to come clean. “Fine.” She drew a deep breath, then slowly released it. “I…believe my mother is responsible for the Defiled attack.”

Yukari blinked. “Of course. So do I.”

Ravyn cackled. She had no idea why. Maybe the stress of the situation was finally getting her to crack. “You fucking believe me?”

“It is not you who I believe. I arrived at the same conclusion with my own findings. Besides, it is impossible to believe that such a large monster went unchecked for so long.” Yukari adjusted her posture and tucked her arms beneath her sleeves. “Unfortunately, unless you have found something more, there is nothing that points to her as the culprit.”

Ravyn retrieved the garnet she found in Karaka’s home and placed it on the table. “I found this in Karaka’s home, but if what you’re telling me is true, then it’s useless.” Yukari picked it up and rotated it in her hand. “Saoirse’s tits, I was sure I fucking had her.”

Yukari licked her lips. “Where…in Karaka’s home did you find this?”

“Under the foundation. I…found Karaka’s corpse, along with that.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t tell the guards. I couldn’t risk having the information getting back to Emberlynn.”

“A wise decision.” Yukari looked at the stone for a while. Her expression was difficult to read. While her gaze remained fixated on the stone, her mind appeared to be elsewhere. She furrowed her brow, pursed her lips, and placed the garnet on the table. “What I am about to do could change Zhuli forever.” She sighed. “I may be able to give you the evidence you need.”

“Oh? Now who’s keeping secrets?”

Yukari hummed. “I am an [Arbiter]. If this stone was Enchanted before, then I may be able to detect the Desire that was placed upon it. Given, I am still a fledgling—only Level 30, in fact—but discerning prior Enchantments is a base Skill of the [Arbiter].”

Ravyn’s eyes widened. “I thought my mother was the only [Arbiter].”

“She was. Until last month.”

“Yukari. You could bring my mother to justice. Please tell me what Enchantment is on there.”

The icy catgirl cocked a brow. “Are you not concerned with the idea of arresting your sickly mother?”

“Of course I am.” Ravyn’s voice lowered, and Bally hopped over to her to nuzzle his face against her forearm. “Why the fuck would I take pleasure in destroying her name? Our name? I’ve thought about how this will change Zhuli—hell, San Island—forever.” She shook her head. “But I can’t condone this. No matter why she did this, no reason is good enough to take lives.”

“I agree.” Yukari brushed her thumbs against the tips of her fingers while silence surrounded them. Minutes passed, and Yukari recited, “[Combat Mode].” Plates of armor dyed silver and white dressed her left arm. A [Samurai]’s breastplate covered her chest, and a mask in the visage of a white fox hid her face. She took the mask off and placed it on the table, then picked up the garnet. “I’m going to identify the Enchantment now.”

Ravyn nodded.

“[Unlock Potential],” Yukari said. A blue-white glow surrounded the stone. Waves of Myana pulsed off of the rock, raising the hairs on Ravyn’s skin. “The remnants of an Enchantment are still here.” She cleared her throat. “[Project Desire].” The blue-white glow faded, giving way to a pale green light that was barely visible to the eye. She hummed, then said, “[Invoke Law].” Green gave way to red, and the red faded away seconds later. The garnet began to sparkle, and tendrils of Myana reached toward Yukari. She breathed deep, then clenched her hand.

The tendrils disappeared.

Yukari wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “I was able to locate the Enchantment.”

“And what was it?” Ravyn leaned forward with Bally.

“...An Enchantment of Puppeteering.”

 

Chapter 290: Purpose

“—nnoli?”

You’re the reason…

…Elona…

“Cannoli.”

Cannoli’s shoulders twitched, and she blinked back tears. Sister Allegra sat across from her, and their surroundings were unfamiliar. She opened her mouth to ask where they were, but no sound came. Her throat was dry, and her tongue parched.

“Drink this.” Sister Allegra carefully placed a warm teacup in Cannoli’s hand, ensuring her grip was secure before letting go.

Cannoli sipped the floral brew as her eyes wandered the room. A short bookcase stood behind a modest desk, its three shelves filled with leather-bound tomes. Two framed pieces of music notation hung on the wall just above the shelf and the desk, along with a portrait of the goddess herself and a clock with a ticking pendulum.

When had they moved to Sister Allegra’s office? “What happened?” she managed after a few swallows of tea.

“I wish there were an easy answer to that question.” Allegra crossed her legs and rested her clasped hands in her lap. “But I fear you’ll have to assist me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, the Enchantment in the mirrors is meant to reflect the greatest fear in your heart. For most first-time initiates, I see Encroachers like spiders or serpents.” Allegra’s tone was gentle. Like she was talking to a frightened kitten. “Perhaps a Defiled that threatened their homes.”

Cannoli stiffened. “I-I just hadn’t expected something so… so…” She struggled to find the words and fight back the tightening in her chest. “So difficult. That’s all.”

“I’m not here to admonish you, Cannoli. The burdens you carry are vast, and Saoirse would not wish for you to suffer them alone.” Allegra reached behind her, taking a teacup for herself from her desk. “In order to heal and nurture those around us, we must first heal and nurture ourselves.”

“I…” Cannoli dropped her gaze to her tea. She wished she could curl up in the small golden pool and vanish. Her hands were shaking. More tears welled in her swollen eyes, and an exhausted laugh escaped her lips. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Let’s discuss your second vision, then. That was your mother, was it not?”

Cannoli nodded and took another drink of tea.

“She wore the clothing of our goddess, I believe.”

“She was a really well-known [Bishop]. But… I believe everyone’s tried to forget her.”

Allegra frowned. “Were her words a memory or of your own creation?”

“A little of both, I think.” Cannoli’s voice cracked, and she looked to the ceiling. “She hid away with another island’s man.”

“Your father?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But when I was younger, I heard her tell my friend’s mother, Elona, to take care of me instead.”

“And Elona…?”

“Elona did take care of me, but she tried to bring my mother home. But I n-never asked her to do it.” Two new streams of tears trickled down Cannoli’s cheeks. “A-and then, one day, Elona never came back. And my mother was taken to be rehabilitated shortly afterward.”

“How old were you, Cannoli?”

“I-I was sixteen, I think.” Cannoli closed her eyes. The image of Aurora sitting at the window at all hours of the night, clutching a stack of blasphemous letters by the light of a single candle, haunted Cannoli with perfect clarity. She inhaled a long, ragged breath and choked on a sob. “I never wanted to hurt Keke. She used to sing all of the time and smile all of the time, just like her mom. She stopped singing, and she stopped smiling. Some days, I feel like my existence makes everything worse.”

Allegra’s warm hand closed around Cannoli’s. “We are all here to carry out the will of Saoirse, Cannoli. She grants us the power and will to do so. There are those who take advantage of her generosity for their own selfish desires, but that does not reflect on the innocent lives around them.” She squeezed her hand. “Elona was clearly very brave and cared for both you and Keke very much.

Cannoli fought to lower her eyes to Allegra’s face and clung to the gentle kindness she found waiting. “I loved Elona, and I see Keke as my sister.”

“Of course you do. I believe Keke was not the only one to lose a mother the day she vanished. What happened isn’t your fault. Your mother’s actions and decisions were not your fault.” Allegra awarded her a gentle smile. “Your tender heart and fear of harming those you care for speaks volumes to your character. Has Keke truly not sung or smiled since then?”

“She sings when she thinks no one’s listening.” Cannoli sniffed and couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Keke singing when she was [Fishing] or bathing. “And she does smile now. A lot.”

“Healing is a path that winds differently for all of us. Keke is healing, and you should allow yourself to do the same.” Allegra moved her hand to rest between Cannoli’s ears. “Now tell me of the first vision.”

For the first time since the tunnel collapse happened on Ichi Island, Cannoli let the story flow free. Ceres’s near-lethal wound from the wicked Ejderha, Kirti’s soul-stealing rocks, Matt’s decision to trade one life for another. Allegra was an attentive listener, only pausing her tale for small clarifications. Her eyes darkened when the [Witch Doctor]’s Class was mentioned.

“Those are dark arts indeed,” Allegra murmured when Cannoli was finished. “While [Necromancer]s were banished, Saoirse’s devout and the royal council do not have proof enough that [Witch Doctor]s are truly capturing the souls of the departed. Nor should any catgirl or man take the life of another.”

“Do you think Matt was wrong to do what he did?”

“I don’t think it is so simple. He made a difficult decision, and possibly one with great cost. However, the consequences will forever weigh on him, and it is Saoirse’s judgment he shall face. Not yours.” Allegra drank the last of her tea and set her cup aside. “Do you think Matt is a bad person?”

“No! Not at all…” She imagined the sleeping fluffpuffs in her lap and ran one hand across her thigh. “He thought he was doing what was best.”

“As did you. We have a unique position in life as [Priest]s, Cannoli. We guide others with our light and carry the blessings that allow our companions to remain in good health. It can be difficult to disagree with those we care about, but, like Matt, all we can do is our best.”

Cannoli nodded. “I want to be more open-minded, Sister Allegra. And I don’t want to be scared anymore.” She passed her empty teacup forward and blushed. “I want to be a [Priest] that everyone can count on.”

“And so you will be.” Allegra set the cup beside her own, then ran her fingers over a long tendril of her hair. “Your faith and dedication are both to be admired. Your fellow initiates would be wise to follow in your footsteps.” She brought her hand forward, palm up. In the center lay a single, sparkling sapphire. “I want you to have this.”

Cannoli’s jaw dropped, and her eyes went wide. “R-really?”

Allegra laughed. “Yes, really.”

“Oh my goodness. It’s an honor!” Cannoli gingerly accepted the stone from Allegra, then fastened it in her hair near her right ear. “Thank you, Sister Allegra. I’ll keep working hard!”

“I know you will.” Allegra touched Cannoli’s cheek. “It suits you well.”

Cannoli beamed.

“I do have one request of you, if you would hear,” Allegra began.

“Anything.”

“You and Cora seem to fare well together, but I’m afraid Muzhira and Rozalyn feel isolated from your number.”

Cannoli knew what was coming, but Allegra’s show of confidence warmed and encouraged her to tackle what seemed impossible. Her smile didn’t falter. “I’ll talk to them. I… I want us all to be friends.” It was true for Rozalyn, at least.

“Thank you. That would gladden me to see.” Allegra glanced over her shoulder. “Now then. I fear I’ve kept us from prayer. Let us go to the dining hall together, and I will speak with Sister Freyja while you enjoy lunch.” She turned back to Cannoli with a smile. “This conversation will remain within these walls. If there’s anything else troubling you, please come to me?”

“Yes. Of course.” Cannoli stood and bowed deeply. “Thank you so much, Sister Allegra.”

“Continue to walk in Saoirse’s light, Cannoli.”

Cannoli bowed one more time and turned to leave. Despite her excitement, her practiced steps kept her slow and light on her feet, and the sound of her slippers on the tile was nearly imperceptible. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and butterflies flooded her stomach.

For the first time since she was a kitten, she felt free.

 

A note from DoubleBlind:


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Side Quest: Practice Makes Perfect (NSFW)

Tristan sat at the easel, sketching…something. Maybe. The paper had a lot of chaotic lines and varied textures, and his hands were covered in charcoal, but the drawing didn’t really look like anything.

Well, that wasn’t true. It looked like a culmination of his present thoughts and feelings. A jumbled mess of anxiety, excitement, fear, and curiosity.

“Master Tristan, has anything at all not been to your liking?” Celestia asked beside him.

After just two weeks in Nyarlea, Tristan had regained the weight he’d lost thanks to three hot meals a day delivered by Celestia herself. He slept every night soundly in a bed with a roof, and he didn’t have to wonder if he’d wake up to a knife in his gut. The first time he said he enjoyed painting, Celestia brought in dozens of mediums to practice with. When he mentioned he liked books, two shelves were installed and filled the next afternoon.

She’d done everything for him. And yet, what she asked of him now felt impossible.

“Everything is perfect, Celestia. Really.” Another thick line across the page. It seemed to scream, Liar!

“I wish to understand your apprehension, Master Tristan.”

“I-I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Celestia knelt beside his chair and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. Her voice softened as she watched him draw. “You started this piece moments after I asked if you were ready to receive your first catgirl.”

“I know.” Two swirls here. One ‘X’ there.

“I have never seen you interrupt our conversations this way.” She shook her head. “Are you afraid of coming to harm? I would never allow that to happen—”

“What if I’m awful at it?” The words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Will I have a whole school of catgirls giggling at me behind my back?” His voice broke, and so did the charcoal between his fingers.

Celestia shook her head and rested a hand on his knee. “No one will laugh at you, Master Tristan. This is not a task to be graded and measured. You are doing a great service to Shi Island and Nyarlea as a whole in its performance.”

“I’ve… I’ve never…” even kissed a girl…

“I painstakingly selected one of my very best students for you, Master Tristan. I would only ask for you to trust me.”

“I do trust you.” It’s me that’s the problem. He closed his eyes and inhaled. This was part of his job. Celestia had told him on day one. He’d had plenty of time to come to terms with it. God, what’s wrong with me? How many guys on Earth would kill for this? A wry laugh threatened to tear out of his throat. He swallowed it down. “Alright. Send her in.”

“Only if you are certain.” Celestia brushed Tristan’s bangs away from his eyes. “I admit, it pains me to place you in a situation that brings you such discomfort.”

Tristan closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. His own mother had never been so gentle with him. Celestia’s warmth and constant doting on him was…nice. “I’ll be okay.” If nothing else, he had to be strong for her. To thank her for all she’d done for him. He opened his eyes and smiled. “I’ll wash my hands and be ready in a few minutes.”

Celestia returned his smile and rose to her feet. “Please do not hesitate to alert me if there is anything else I can do for you.”

“I won’t.” Tristan tore away the drawing and rolled it up. He considered asking Celestia to throw it away, then thought better of it. Maybe he could turn it into something later. “Oh, um, what’s her name?”

“Lilith.”

Tristan blinked. That seemed strangely ironic. “Thank you, Celestia.”

“Of course, Master Tristan. She will be here soon.” Celestia bowed and excused herself from his room.

Tristan moved to the washbasin and scrubbed the charcoal from the sides of his hands and his fingers. His heart pounded against his chest, and his breathing came in quick spurts.

He felt like a wimp. He should have welcomed the chance to have sex with a beautiful catgirl with open arms. But the hundred different scenarios that played out in his mind all ended badly. Like only lasting a few seconds. Or her looking at his scrawny body and snickering. Or worse, he screwed up and hurt her.

He jumped out of his skin when the knock came at his door. The pads of his fingers were wrinkled from how long he’d been washing. “C-coming!”

Tristan dried his hands and ran them through his hair. His jeans were patched and clean thanks to Celestia, and his shirt was Nyarlean-made. It wasn’t a great outfit for a special occasion, but for now, it was all he had.

With one last prayer to whoever was listening, he answered the door. His breath caught. She was gorgeous. Dark, auburn hair spilled free over her shoulders, and her emerald eyes pierced into his with a tempting curiosity. Her high cheekbones and full lips were immaculately sculpted above her slender neck and shoulders. Instead of the usual maid uniform, she wore a black silk robe.

She had to be at least ten years older than he was.

“Master Tristan?” Her voice was rich and smooth.

“Y-yes.”

“I’m Lilith.” She smiled, and it illuminated the room. “May I come in?”

“Oh! Yes. Of course! S-sorry!” He hopped back and cursed himself for it.

Lilith was the picture of grace and elegance. She glided from the door to the small dining table in the middle of his room. He closed the door and followed her, embarrassed by his uneven gait compared to her sure steps.

She looked around his room, smiled, then lifted one of the chocolate candies that rested at the center of the table. “Would you permit me to be candid with you?”

“Please do.” Tristan silently patted himself on the back for not stuttering.

Lilith brought the chocolate to her lips and took a tiny bite. Tristan’s heart skipped when he caught sight of her tongue testing the candy’s edge. “First, I want to set you at ease as much as possible. I wish to refrain from using titles and simply call you ‘Tristan.’”

Tristan nodded, and the first licks of heat teased his skin. She was the first catgirl in the school to drop the ‘Master’ honorific. “I’d like that, actually.”

“Very good.” She closed the distance between them in three flowing steps, stopping when her chest touched his.

She’s taller than me…

“Second.” Lilith raised her hand and caressed his cheek, then brought the other hand to his mouth, sliding the second half of the candy between his lips. Tristan’s eyes widened as he accepted, letting the chocolate melt on his tongue. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I wish for you to remember me fondly.”

The room suddenly felt very hot. She smelled incredible. Tristan fought to breathe. “I… I would…” He’d sworn he had at least three good responses, but they all died in his throat.

“I know, Tristan,” Lilith purred. She pulled her face away just far enough to nibble on his lower lip. “Third, I will continue until you tell me to stop.” She brushed her lips over his, sealing his first kiss with a delicacy he hadn’t expected. “Are my terms acceptable?”

“Y-yes,” he murmured.

Tristan’s fear dissolved when her lips returned to his. They were so soft and supple and perfect. He didn’t know how he should move his mouth, but it didn’t matter. She guided him like a dance, gradually opening him up until she slid in her tongue to meet his.

He gasped and wrapped his arms around her back. Still, Lilith continued her intoxicating rhythm, teaching him how to move his mouth, urging his tongue to reciprocate, exploring him just as much as teaching. He felt dizzy with her need and tasted the chocolate from both of their halves. Goosebumps peppered his arms and the back of his neck, and heat rushed through his veins.

When she pulled away from their embrace, Tristan whimpered, then caught himself. His face flushed, and he covered his mouth with one hand.

“You are delectable.” Lilith untied the sash around her robe and fingered the hem. “I had Notch craft something special for me. Would you like to see?”

“I would. Please.” Tristan yearned for anything she could give him.

Her smile was as sensual as it was beautiful. She pulled the hem back. Black lace clung to her ivory skin, hugging her hips and waist. It cut high on her thighs, enveloped her generous breasts, and clung to a laced choker around her throat. Everything about it enhanced her magnificent form. Her slender tail flicked behind her as she watched the robe fall to the floor, then looked up to meet Tristan’s gaze.

She didn’t feel real. Surely, this goddess wasn’t standing here for him.

“Can I touch you?” Stupid! Seriously?!

“I would like that, actually,” Lilith teased. The hunger in her eyes echoed her response.

Before he could have second thoughts, Tristan stepped forward and mapped the lace with his fingertips. It was like the floral pieces were painted onto her body. The tease of her skin between the sections of fabric was maddening. She hummed and stroked his hair. The latent heat beneath his skin flared and consumed him, and all logic was cast aside.

He kissed every inch of skin he could find, tasting her with tiny licks of his tongue and memorizing the curves of her waist, hips, and chest. She tipped her head back and curled her tail around his thigh.

“I’ll give Notch your compliments,” Lilith murmured. “But now we must tend to you.”

She reached for his shirt and tugged at it until it joined her robe on the floor. His belt, underwear, and pants came next. There wasn’t time to worry about what she thought of him naked—she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and slid them to the base.

“Hah!” Tristan’s whole body trembled in response.

“Does that feel good, Tristan?”

“That’s… Ah!” She repeated the motion and guided his forehead to lean against her shoulder. “Y-yes!” He swung his arms around her neck and held on as she carefully set a pace that earned her gasps on every rotation. How did she know exactly how to touch him? She’s… she’s so— “Ahn… mhn…”

“You’ll share yourself with me, won’t you?”

“Yes! P-please!” He bit her shoulder. Whatever she wanted. Lilith could do whatever she wanted with him.

“Very good.” She continued to pump him as she guided him backward, then took a seat on top of the table. “Because I want to feel you. Terribly.” Reaching for another chocolate, she slid it into Tristan’s mouth as she moved the tiny patch of lace between her legs to the side.

Chocolate coated his tongue as she positioned his shaft to her heat and urged him to lean forward. White bursts exploded in his vision when he slid inside of her. Her body offered no resistance, welcoming him with a tight heat that sheathed him whole. When his hips met hers, he hugged her waist and breathed in her scent.

“Mmh… You’re even better than I imagined,” Lilith said from somewhere far away.

Sweat trickled down Tristan’s neck and back and teetered on the brink of ecstasy. No. Not yet. “I’ll move?”

“Please do.” Lilith tongued his ear, and he cried out. There were so many sensations at once. He couldn’t choose where to focus. Her tongue, her chest, her hands, her heat. Every inch of him was trembling.

With a quivering breath, he drew his hips away, then plunged back in. Oh, God. “I-I’m already so c-close…”

“Then take your pleasure, Tristan.” Lilith tilted her forehead against his as she wrapped her legs around his lower back. “Don’t hold back.” She kissed him and parted his teeth with her tongue.

Tristan grabbed her hips and thrust into her hard, retreating and returning with as much speed and intensity as he could muster. Her kiss intensified as her bliss-filled moans filled the room’s space.

There was no way he could last when every ridge and bump inside her massaged him like she was made to fit him. Pleasure prickled his fingers and lips, and his orgasm rolled over him with a delicious ferocity he’d never felt before.

Lilith gasped, and her tail clung to his thigh. She raked her nails down his back.

His groans joined hers, and he lived on the air she breathed as his thrusts slowed. His heart pounded in his ears, and a haze framed his vision. As he came down from the high, he broke their embrace and brushed his fingers over the lace on her chest, tracing the intricate outlines.

Right now, there was nothing else in the world that mattered. Just her.

“What promising beginnings.” Lilith grazed her fingertips over Tristan’s spine, and he shivered. “I wonder, would you be interested to learn how to please a catgirl?”

Tristan blinked away some of the haze and met her beautiful eyes. “You’d teach me?”

“I would be honored.” She kissed his forehead and licked her lips. “Let us move to the bed.”

Tristan started to turn, hesitated, and then kissed her.

A delicate pink touched Lilith’s cheeks. “And what was that for, my sweet?”

“Thank you, Lilith.” He grinned before heading to the bed. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

Lilith sauntered to his side and touched his cheek. “You'll be my finest student.”

 

A note from DoubleBlind:

A huge thank you to our new Patron, Mister Drake!

Check out his new science fiction, Universal Lady Aya!

The year is 2084 AD. Magic users known as Justices have existed since the dawn of written history. However, many distrust Justices and see them as an aberration of the human race. Designated as Anti-Magic Faction groups, these xenophobic militants of humanity have spread worldwide to eradicate Justices and those who support them.

Aya Masayoshi is a middle school student on Arahi, an island encroached by AMF influence, as crime and corruption run the country. Her life changes upon meeting a young girl on the run from the authorities while releasing an alien threat as old as the Justices themselves. Now a Justice herself, Aya rises to the challenges ahead of her, whether it be overcoming her issues at school and home, confronting this ancient menace, or triggering a revolution to end the tyrannical world order for good.

Universal Lady Justice Aya © 2025 by Mister Drake is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/4.0/

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Chapter 291: Incision

The air grew cold, and it had nothing to do with the frigid catgirl sitting across from Ravyn. Yukari carefully placed the stone on the table. Ravyn bit the nail of her ring finger, her gaze glued to the garnet. A tornado of emotions threatened to overwhelm her as she tried to think of her next move. Bittersweet memories of time spent at Emberlynn’s soirees resurfaced.

She couldn’t.

Despite Ravyn’s conviction that her own mother was responsible for the deaths of these women, she hoped that if Saoirse really was up there watching, that she might show pity. Show mercy. Show her that her suspicions were wrong. They’d had their differences, but in the end, they still loved one another and would do anything to help each other… Right?

“—vyn? Ravyn?”

“What?” Ravyn gasped.

Yukari was leaning over the table, waving a hand in front of her face. “Did you hear what I said?”

Ravyn blinked. “No.”

Yukari paused, then sighed. “This warrants further investigation. You know that, right?”

Slowly, Ravyn nodded. “Yes.” The determination she’d felt earlier was quickly evaporating. Her fury burned out, and her sense of justice squashed. All she could picture now were those nights spent together with heart-to-heart discussions on their future. “I know.”

“[Civilian Mode].” As Yukari’s robes returned, she resumed her position and looked at the garnet. “Admittedly, this still does not prove anything.”

Ravyn shook her head. She was barely paying attention. “Understanding my mother’s webs would take a lifetime. I’m not sure that even she knows where the strands end.”

Yukari put her hands on the table and drummed her fingers. “Much of this is still circumstantial. We need something that puts these pieces together.”

This sucked. Ravyn was no longer in any shape to brainstorm ideas. Here Yukari was, being the helping hand she hoped she’d find, and she couldn’t get her own emotions under control. Fuck, I’m getting sick of this. Things were usually so much simpler than this. If she saw an injustice, she fought it. If a Defiled was destroying the town, she burned it to the fucking ground. So why the hell was this so hard?

“Ravyn. Are you listening to me?”

“Mou ii. Just let me think for a second.” Ravyn leaned on her elbow and perched her chin atop her palm. Bally nuzzled against her arm, and she used her free hand to scratch the back of his neck. Yukari’s sharp gaze returned, and Ravyn averted her eyes. If looks could kill. “Scrolls. We need scrolls for this.”

“Perhaps. But we need to choose our purchases carefully. Rumors may start if we purchase suspicious-seeming scrolls.” Yukari pressed the middle of her pointer finger between her lips and bowed at the neck in thought.

“Then we buy everything in the shop.”

Yukari frowned.

Ravyn huffed a sigh. “Does Emberlynn know you’re an [Arbiter]?”

Yukari’s eyes moved up to look at her. “She does not. The only one who knows is my mother. I have been very selective with whom I give this information to.”

“Why?”

“Things have changed for the worse as of recent. When Mistress Emberlynn fell ill, her demeanor changed. Many were convinced you would never return home. I am sure she harbored thoughts that you may be dead. I know I did.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“Thank you. In any event, bit by bit, the village began to change. Emberlynn was more erratic and sharp-tongued. My mother used to visit all of the time. Then suddenly, she was no longer welcome for reasons she would not say.” She shook her head. “Perhaps it is paranoia which guides my thoughts, but I found it peculiar that my mother came down with a similar illness months after Mistress Emberlynn.”

I doubt that’s a coincidence.

Yukari drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled, balling her hands onto her lap. “I digress. She fired much of the staff soon after she became ill. There are few she trusts now, and almost no one is allowed inside anymore. Despite how Zhuli may appear, word travels, as you well know.”

Ravyn nodded, recollecting the few unfortunate incidents when she still lived in Zhuli. The populace was quick to blame Emberlynn for the smallest mishaps, and it was Ravyn who bore the brunt of her frustrations. It drove a wedge between them on the worst of days, but Emberlynn always had a way of bouncing back and arriving twice as strong.

“Does she always ignore the problems in Zhuli?” Ravyn asked.

“No,” Yukari said, shaking her head, “most times she does not. However, suspicions have been rising with her declining health, and I would be lying if I said there weren’t others who spoke behind her back, especially with regards to who will succeed her.”

Emberlynn had always expressed her desire for Ravyn to inherit the family business, so that aspect didn’t come as a surprise. “I’m worried about Sophia,” Ravyn admitted and clasped her hands on the table, shuffling her thumbs.

“Sophia?”

Ravyn frowned. “My sister. My mother’s new daughter.”

Yukari returned her frown. “Ah, yes. The one with red and blonde—”

“Yeah, that one,” Ravyn said, quick to cut her off at the mention of ‘blonde.’ She’d have to pay Cailu back for that someday. “Do you know if she was born before or after my mother became ill?”

“After, I believe. It’s hard to say, though. Emberlynn is so much more private than in years past. There are few who know, and even fewer who would be willing to divulge that information.”

Ravyn scratched her forehead, fearful that Sophia might be involved in whatever sinister threads their mother weaved—or at least could become involved if this escalated. The thought that her sister could get hurt didn’t sit well with her. “We need to get back in the estate.”

“Why not just return and investigate privately?”

“Because my mother and I…had a bad conversation before I left.”

Yukari clicked her tongue. “Does she know?”

Ravyn shook her head. “No. But I bet she suspects that I know. That’s why I’m afraid to go back in without a plan.”

“You should not have done that,” Yukari chastised. “You may have—”

“Could have, should have!” Ravyn snapped. “What’s done is done. Can we just focus on the present? I’m sick of being told that I could’ve done something better!” Then she hissed, “Saoirse’s tits.”

Yukari poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Fine. Then, we will need to devise a method to sneak in. I do not suppose you know of any secret entrances to the estate?”

Ravyn thought, then shook her head. “No.”

“That will limit our options.” Yukari looked at the scroll hung on the wall to her left. It depicted a snowy-topped mountain. At its peak was a great dragon, with long whiskers, scales as white as the snow around it, and eyes as blue at the ocean’s depths. The creature bore several pairs of legs along its snakelike body, which wrapped around the mountain. The beast glared down as if it were examining its prey. “Hmm. I have an idea. Can your familiar use magic?”

“Bally? Of course he can. He’s a master of fire magic like me.”

“Bally the [Wizard], Bally the [Wizard], squawwwk!”

Yukari flinched and plugged each of her ears with a finger. “Wretched thing.” Bally narrowed his gaze on Yukari and the two glared at one another. “Well, good. We may need him for this plan.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You are a [Sorcerer], are you not?”

Ravyn crossed her arms. “That’s right. Spill it. What are you plotting?”

A rare smile tugged at the corner of Yukari’s mouth. “Then you have learned [Displace].” When Ravyn nodded, she continued. “Good. For this to work, I will need you to let me Enchant your familiar.”

Ravyn snatched Bally into her arms like an overprotective mother. The bird squawked, sending feathers into the air. “You’re not planning to do something funny with him, are you?”

Yukari snickered. “Well, you are awfully protective of a creature that can be dismissed and resummoned at will. Why is that?”

Ravyn’s expression darkened. “That's none of your business.”

Yukari shrugged. She held out her hand, palm up. “What I will do is Enchant him twofold. As I am sure you are aware by now, familiars and their summoners share a link between one another.”

“Yeah, yeah, very good, I know all that. Just get to the point that matters.”

Yukari sighed. “I will Enchant Bally with an invisibility Spell.” Ravyn didn’t like the idea of sending Bally in without protection, but she waited to see what else Yukari would say. “Additionally, I will Enchant him with an ability to boost the effect of your [Farsight] Skill.”

“Who says I’ve learned it?” Ravyn asked, becoming suspicious of Yukari’s assumptions.

“Because as rude and uncouth as you are, you are not stupid.” Yukari lowered her hand until the back touched the table. “Unless you wish to prove me otherwise.”

Ravyn growled. “Yes, I’ve learned both.”

“Excellent. This Enchantment will allow your familiar’s [Farsight] to see through walls. However, the effect will not last more than two seconds, so you will have to be quick.” Her smile returned. “I am sure you know what happens next.”

“[Displace],” Ravyn said, realization dawning on her. [Displace] could not be used on two targets unless there was a line of sight. With the ability to see through walls, however, such a limitation would be removed. At least, that’s how it sounded. “I’m not going to [Displace] through the wall and kill myself, am I?”

“No, no, no,” Yukari said quickly, waving her hand through the air, “I have had practice with other similar Spells, and no such thing happened.”

[Arbiter]s were terrifying. Of any Class Ravyn could think of, they were perhaps the most time-consuming yet highly rewarding Class out there. The fact that Yukari knew an Enchantment for invisibility was powerful enough on its own. But to see through walls?

“I’m liking this plan,” Ravyn said, snickering. Her urge to see the estate burned to the ground was swiftly returning. Her talk with Yukari had emboldened her. “Let’s do it.”

“Just to make sure we understand one another,” Yukari said just as Ravyn was standing up, “you are to [Displace] into the estate using your familiar to sneak in. We will need to wait for the doors to open.”

“I get that.” Ravyn stood up the rest of the way, cradling Bally like a newborn in her arm. “Let’s find us some real evidence.”

 

Chapter 292: Therapy

Ceres marveled at how smooth the road leading up to Ronona was. Save for the occasional bump or misplaced rock on the path, she could barely tell that they were moving.

She maintained a proper posture en route. Hands clasped in her lap, back straightened, ever stalwart, ever wary in the event of dangerous Encroachers or Defiled. They were approaching high-Level areas, and while she knew the [Crusader]s employed by the queen kept a watchful eye, all it took was one slip, one miscalculated effort to lose a life.

“She is not with child?” Cailu’s voice chided her in her mind.

I am so ashamed! How am I to re-earn Sir Cailu’s trust now?

Ceres swallowed the building lump in her throat. While Matt always remained at the front of her mind—and of course, that meant his safety as well—she couldn’t help but think back to the night she shared with Matt, and wonder if perhaps they should have waited until their arrival in Ronona. Then again, it was entirely possible that they would not be afforded the time.

How strange, Ceres thought. What is this sensation that I am experiencing? Is it longing?

Countless catgirls had fallen at Ceres’s feet during her time as a [Magic Knight]. Each one of them was a friend, a confidant, a fellow knight who understood the value of chivalry and justice, and further, the heavy weight that they carried. Yet, in all her time serving as a loyal knight, not once had she experienced this yearning, clinging sensation that possessed her.

“Hey, Ceres,” Matt said. She jolted in her seat, half-ashamed and half-delighted to hear his voice. To their fortune, Cailu and his Party had taken the other stagecoach, which left them alone. Under such fortuitous circumstances, she should’ve torn his clothes off to savor the salty taste of his skin and the beads of sweat he collected when he labored. “Are you feeling alright?”

Ceres blinked. “Y-yes, Sir Matt. I am fine.”

“You just haven’t said a peep, so I wanted to make sure.” He glanced between her and the window beside him. Since her journey with him, he’d filled out the shirt and jacket he wore in his [Civilian Mode] well. The shape of his biceps, the way his muscles shifted when he turned his neck, the knowing look in his eye, all of it set her skin on fire and raised the hairs on her skin. Yes, tearing his clothes off in a moving wagon did have its own appeal after all. “It’s weird to think that we’ll have to split up pretty soon.”

“Do not concern yourself over the future, Sir Matt,” Ceres said easily, locking her stare with the finest man she had ever laid eyes upon. “It is not written, so it would do you well to assume. I will return to your side posthaste.”

Matt returned her smile. And this time, she could tell it wasn’t forced. Gone was the shadow of a great Defiled looming over him. There was vigor in his gaze, a lilt to his voice that said he believed the words spilling from her mouth. The man she so adored was at last returning to form, and it would be glorious.

“I know you will,” he chuckled. “I’ll be a different person when you see me again. Well, no, I shouldn’t say that. I’ll be a better person when next you see me.”

“I look forward to it. Truly.” She balled one hand and placed it against her chest. “Though, admittedly, if I may be so bold, Sir Matt, I am quite smitten with you. It is my belief that any catgirl who accompanies you would be lucky.” She waxed nostalgic, reminiscing on the battles and heartfelt conversations she’d shared with him. “I consider myself very fortunate to be in your company. I know that when I return to you, you will be a man I can proudly stand beside in the heat of battle.”

Matt gaped. “Thanks, Ceres. That…means a lot to hear that. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just stupid or insane.” He laughed. “Maybe a bit of both. But I’m trying, and I like to think that I’m finally starting to understand my role in this world.” He looked out the window, then at the floor. “For better or worse.”

His last comment concerned her, but it was not her place to question the role of men nor to claim that she understood the terrible burden they carried. Theirs was a lofty and bloodriddled journey. She only hoped she could provide the shoulder he needed from time to time.

“That is good,” Ceres said with the hope that her words would maintain his positive outlook. “Every man’s journey is different.” She looked up and imagined Cailu’s carriage ahead of theirs through the walls. While she respected him, there was a sharp gaze and a cutting tone that had clearly taken their toll in his years of protecting San Island. “Sir Cailu is a man of exquisite power and prestige. However, I would not be comfortable serving under him if he were my commander.”

“Why is that?”

Ceres was unsure how to say it without tarnishing Cailu’s good name. Speaking ill of him sat like stones in her stomach. “Sir Cailu strikes me as a man who sees the needs of the many over the needs of the few. While I believe that to be a proper outlook, most particularly in the heat of combat, it is my belief that his history may be…affecting his judgment negatively.”

Saoirse, forgive me. He is a fine man. I should not speak so brazenly of him.

“That’s interesting to hear coming from you, Ceres. I have to admit, it makes me feel a little bit better.”

“My apologies.” Ceres sighed. “That was uncouth of me. Pray, do not repeat this conversation.”

Matt laughed. “My lips are sealed. Don’t worry.”

“You have my thanks.”

Cailu was a respectable man. He had spent their mornings fine-tuning Zahra’s stances and expediting her Experience gain. With his permission, Ceres joined in during a few of the bouts with Encroachers as well, gaining one Base Level and Class Level. She wanted to wait until she saw what the threat looked like on Shi Island before deciding where to put her points.

Initially, [Force of Will] sounded like a fine selection. It would offer her an amount of [Strength] equal to the base value of her [Magic]. Combining that with [Magic Armor] would offer her a substantial advantage in combat—especially skirmishes.

Time will tell.

“Hey, I think we’re coming up on Ronona,” Matt said. He gasped. “Oh damn, that’s huge.”

Ceres blinked rapidly, then leaned toward the opposite window. Her breath caught.

Spires of white speckled with gold stretched up as if they were challenging the clouds themselves. The wall that surrounded the city stood so tall that Ceres was convinced that you could stack any three buildings on Shi Island on top of one another and still they would not reach the top. Wagons passed them by, filled with catgirls wearing expensive fabrics of any color one could imagine.

As their wagon pulled up to the portcullis that barred them from entering the resplendent city, Ceres had to fight down the urge to kick the door out from excitement. Fortunately, the door opened moments after the wagon came to a stop, the catgirl in charge of their carriage flicking a thumb over her shoulder.

“Out you go!” she said as she stood to the side to allow Ceres room to exit.

Using the wagon door for balance, Ceres stepped out of the carriage and rounded the coach, looking up in awe at the city of Ronona. “Oh my goodness. Saoirse be praised.”

Matt exited moments later on the same side, gently brushing her shoulder with his hand as he moved to stand beside her. “Okay. Color me impressed. That’s…a lot.”

“Yes. Quite.”

The sudden slam of the wagon door snapped Ceres out of her daydream, and the catgirl coach nonchalantly hopped back up into her seat. Cailu’s voice sounded from the unseen side of the wagon, the coach’s voice following shortly after. Ceres couldn’t hear the details, but imagined it had something to do with her pay.

“Take care!” the coach said just before snapping the reins of her horse. The wagon moved, and before they knew it, she was gone.

“Queen Nehalennia awaits,” Cailu said as he gestured toward the path leading to the portcullis. “Let us make haste.”

“Right,” Matt said.

“Of course,” Ceres said, bowing at the neck.

After a brief conversation with Cailu, the guards welcomed them in.

Ceres nearly lost her footing once the gate closed behind them. Ronona was every bit the majestic city that many claimed it to be. The cobblestone pathway was clean and well-kept. The homes were square-shaped, with finely tiled roofs and decorated arches for the windows. Most of them were white, with nary a fleck of missing paint.

Excited kittens dashed past them. Their clothes were clean, their smiles wide, their laughter loud. Ceres gaped, befuddled by their apparent lack of concern. They were free-spirited, as kittens should be, and her heart hurt for those poor girls who still suffered on Shi Island.

That’s it. That is what I am fighting for.

“Come,” Cailu said, gesturing down the path.

Cailu led them into the market square next. The queen’s castle loomed in the distance, sparkling and immaculate. The multi-pointed spires and stained glass could be viewed even from this distance. The smaller details were difficult to make out, but anyone who was a devout follower of Saoirse—may her name always be praised—would recognize the symbology.

Catgirls peddled wares from their storefronts in a circle, with several feet of space between each stall. The stalls bore intricately decorated awnings, and the catgirls bowed as customers approached. At the center of the square was an elaborate sculpture of Saoirse herself, her palms upright and pressed together with water flowing out into the basin below.

It seemed Ceres could go nowhere without her mouth hanging open. Each time she turned around, there was a new sight to see, another person to fight for, another cause worth living for. The city tickled her knightly senses, and for a brief time, she imagined what living a life in such a privileged city would be like.

“Damn, this markets gives malls a run for their money,” Matt said.

His comment elicited a glance from Cailu, but he said nothing. Kirti giggled at his side, and he shot her a glare.

“Malls?” Ceres asked.

“Yeah, malls were these really big structures that had all kinds of shops inside. Mostly a place for teenagers to hang out at. They kinda fell out once I was old enough to enjoy them.”

“That’s so sad.”

He shrugged. “Nah, it’s not a big deal or anything. Just kinda nostalgic.”

Ceres smiled. She’d never heard Matt talk much about his old world. According to Saoirse’s scriptures, the men of Nyarlea were not unlike her children. Bequeathed unto the world to ensure future generations, their ways of life were often foreign and difficult to understand. Many men struggled to acclimate to Nyarlea’s harsh environments, but those who could would find immense satisfaction.

“Tell me more,” Ceres said. Eager as she was to return to Shi Island and protect her birthplace, the sense of longing she experienced earlier was growing stronger as they neared the queen’s palace. “Please.”

“Not much to tell, I guess,” Matt said as he scratched the back of his neck. Ceres observed how the muscles in his neck and arms moved, and for a moment, her mind vacated their current conversation and retreated to their prior moments of intimacy. “How do I explain this? Uh, so imagine a bunch of boxes or… is alcove the right word?”

“Perhaps?” Ceres giggled. The way he explained things was haphazard and unrefined, but she admired that quality about him. It was raw and unapologetic.

“Okay, I’ll use that word. So a bunch of alcoves were situated inside the walls of a big building. Like if you took all of these stalls and put them down a hallway. You could buy clothes, food, play games, all kinds of stuff.”

“That sounds wonderful! I would love to visit a mall with you.”

Matt blushed. “That’s kind of you to say, but I doubt the mall of Nyarlea is a thing.”

“Well, it should be.”

“You’re amazing, Ceres. Really.”

Don’t fidget. Don’t stammer. You are the picture of grace.

“Your compliment means a great deal,” Ceres said. “Thank you.”

“And at last, we arrive,” Kirti said with a tone that suggested amusement. “The queen’s castle. Just as gaudy as I remember.”

“You would do well to watch your tone in the presence of the queen,” Cailu warned. “She has cut the tongues of others for less.”

“I must admit, I am quite nervous,” Zahra said, adjusting the scabbard around her shoulder.

“Take care with your words, speak only when you are spoken to,” Cailu continued. “So long as you follow my lead, the queen will see fit to bestow you her hospitality.”

“I understand.”

The stairs leading up to the castle were enormous. Stones of alabaster led up to an arch that dwarfed the fortress of Rājadhānī. The steps were at least a foot high each, giving Ceres the impression that they were designed more for giants than for catgirls. At the top was the castle, made up of several spires interconnected by walls of exposed battlements. The front was guarded by a large portcullis and four guards—two flanking the gate and another pair up in the towers. Those who approached the castle did so at a gradual pace, their hands revealed the entire time.

The castle was nothing short of beautiful. In fact, Ceres felt there was no word that could appropriately describe the intricacy of the structure before her.

Matt drew a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Ceres grabbed Matt’s hand. “I will be beside you the entire time, Sir Matt.” She rubbed the skin between his pointer finger and thumb. “Rest easy.”