Alice was out of place, in every sense of the word.

The castle was a dead thing, a stone necropolis that was yet to remember that it was dead, and she had no business being there. Sure, the maw of its gates had opened and let her in as a member of the public for a party, but…

She looked forward to going home. She looked forward to being through with this night.

Of course, she had no way of knowing how long the night would truly drag on for…

Regardless, she went up to Bailey, in her Sorceress getup, and hissed, “Emma just said some really concerning shit and stalked off.”

Bailey’s expression flickered, like a pilot light in a heating system. She then gestured for Alice to follow her out of the ballroom.

They found a quiet spot in a storage room, just down the hall from the ballroom, and Bailey let out a heaving sigh.

“How does everyone see through this disguise?”

“No offense, Bailey, but it would take a lot more than a nice outfit and some haughty mannerisms to fool me. I practically raised you, if you’ll recall, when times got tough and Mom and Dad got overwhelmed.”

Ugh. Bailey hated it when Alice was right. Did she have to wag her finger around like that? It reminded Bailey of her mother, and that was a stabbing ache in the gut.

“Right. Damn it. Okay. What’s this about Emma?”

Alice recounted, in broad terms, her encounter. She mentioned that Emma looked pretty sick and also quite drunk, and the mention of ‘Dorian’ and ‘a machine’. Bailey took all that in with a grim expression and a furrowed brow.

“She was talking like she’d never see me again,” Alice said, “Like she was going to… die. Or move away forever. She insulted my hair before she went.”

“Yeah, that’s Emma alright.”

A moment passed.

“I think this party is sufficiently ruined. We’d better go and stop her,” Bailey said.

“Yeah. You scoop up your partners and go after her, I’ll sneak over to her… what, she’s got a tower?”

“Yeah. Big old tower looming over everything, you can’t miss it. Watch your ass, though-- Dorian is dangerous and tends to hop around time and space and stuff.”

“I will. Stay safe, sis.” And then Alice gave Bailey a hug.

 

***

 

They split up; Alice going down the hall, marching like a woman on a mission (because that’s what she was. She was indeed a woman on the mission). Bailey went back into the ballroom and--

Huh.

The party was clearing out extremely quickly. Some of the noble patron types were gathered about the three leaders of the Order, wearing cross expressions.

“I’m afraid, Lord Gaius, I am taking my money elsewhere.”

“What kind of joke is this party? Poisoned wine? Showy performances from Sorceress impersonators? Your Order used to be doing good work. Sir Frederick here, he used to be a hero! What’s all this nonsense been about?”

Sir Frederick wore a mask of stone at that. Was this contrition, or shame? Or… was he even capable of contrition? Bailey doubted it. There was a good chance that he was immune to regret, or contrition, or pain. Even if he could feel all those things, there was no way he could ever be sorry enough to match his crime.

“I assure you,” Lord Gauis said, through clenched teeth, “none of these things were in the plan. It’s all under control and--”

Funny how the only thing that could make the Lord of the Order sorry was being yelled at by rich people.

“Under control? Under control? I vomited out several quarts of wine, and you have it under control?”

The cadre of no-longer-prospective donors was beginning to split up. Only the most pissed off of them remained. Bailey watched this all with a knotted-up brow, until she remembered why the hell she had come back into the room in the first place.

She cast her gaze over to Henry, who was clustered by the remains of the snack table with Lillian and Hannah. He was hard to read under the helmet, but she could watch the twitch of his hand and know that he was grinning under it.

Lillian wore no mask, and grinned openly. Her teeth were sharp and she was ready to watch the carnage of an old Order’s firmament begin to crack at the pillared foundations.

Hannah seemed less excited, and in fact seemed pretty exhausted. Maybe she was more of a party girl for sexy queer parties, less so for uptight austere functions.

With all this in mind, Bailey approached the three of them, and spoke up.

“Listen. Emma said some cryptic and frightening shit. I’m going to check it out. Our work here is done, I think.”

“How cryptic, how frightening, how soon can we be out of this room?” Hannah asked.

“Cryptic like she’s going to do something dangerous to herself and maybe all of reality. Dorian, that guy you ran into in that other space? He’s involved. I’m going to stop it.”

Lillian’s face had changed; she was watching something behind Bailey.

“’Ian, what’s up?” Bailey asked.

“Now would be an excellent time to leave. Let us get a move on.”

Bailey turned around; a mass of Order men, brandishing swords in hand, were oncoming. It was a wall of grey armor, silvery blades, and drunkenly cruel expressions. The turrets of their heads, the rise and fall of stone that was their shoulders and necks, they were all poised to wrap around the four of them and hold them in place.

But that was where the Old Sorceress, Bailey’s predecessor, spoke up through Bailey’s mouth. Or… was Bailey also saying it, along with her? It was a hard thing to define.

“We will not be pinned.”

There was old, old magic in that statement. Older than Lord Gaius and his shitty great-whatever, older than the Order, older than the stone floor of the ballroom. It felt caustic on the inside of Bailey’s mouth, like biting a lemon, like sticking her hand in the Golden River and pulling it out, covered in river-filth and filmy loam.

That old magic bowled the encroaching human-weapon wall over. Weapons clattered onto the floor, armor clanked against stone, and people went ‘oof’ and ‘augh, damn it!’

“Holy shit! How did you--”

“I didn’t,” Bailey said, still tasting the sour film in her mouth; “let’s get a move on.”

Some of the heartier men were already back on their feet, blades back in hand.

“Split up,” Lillian said, “I am the only one of us who knows how to fight properly. Unless, Hannah, can you?”

“With my fists, but not with weapons.”

“Right. Do not die, my loves. I will be very cross with you if you do.”

And then Lillian and Henry’s eyes met; they looked out to the doors to the distant kitchen, and made a break for it.

“Out the front doors, then,” Hannah said, “let’s move. On the horse?”

“On the horse. Let’s move.”

While the weapon-people, sharpened by the Order’s whetstones and violences, recovered and stood up, Hannah and Bailey ran for Apple Sauce, and mounted up.

“Alright, girl,” Bailey said to her horse, “let’s go.”

And they went!

 

***

 

Alice found Emma’s tower to be an unnerving architectural presence, like a great frown made of stone and mortar. Not only that, but it seemed to be made of two different towers spliced together; one ancient, one new, one weathered and ground down, one fresh and as vibrant as the day the stone was quarried.

It was a snowy night, and Alice was a rotten climber, so there was no going through the windows. She just had to push through the front door.

Alright. There was no point in dawdling. She opened the door.

No one was on the first floor; it was just a circular foyer with no other rooms. Good. She went up the spiraling stairs.

Beyond them was a common room, unloved and left in chaos. A couch was overturned, bottom up, and dining chairs were in pieces on the floor. She could hear Emma’s voice, then.

“--finishing touches, Dorian. Are you ready?”

“Of course I’m ready, Em-em. You’re the one who’s been holding us up.”

Alice stuck her tongue out in abject disgust. Em-em? What a childish thing to call Emma. She mourned what scrap of dignity her unfortunate twin had left, because after a nickname like that that scrap was ashes and the smell of smoke on the daylight sky.

“Well -- Whatever. It’s just about ready. Don’t rush me, okay? I’m already rushing as is, before Bailey or someone gets any ideas about following me. The sooner we’re rid of this cul-de-sac of a reality the better,” Emma said.

“Yeah. Maybe in the new one you make your sisters can be a little more put together!”

“For Bailey, maybe. For Alice? No. Whatever reality I’m in, I’d bet Alice is my shitty spare.”

Alice’s hands were in fist shapes. When did that happen?

She crept along, to the stairs leading up to the next level. The sound of a tool interacting with metal, a squeak, a clank, was echoing from upstairs. Whatever this thing was, it was almost ready. This was Alice’s one shot at preventing whatever the fuck was going on from getting worse.

“Is making a new… what’s the word?”

“Timeline.”

“Is making one of those hard?” Emma asked, as she worked at some part of the nightmare machine upstairs.

Dorian made a noise. “Hmm. No. Once we’re set up on the other side of the door, it should be pretty easy. I’ve made dozens! Hundreds!”

Alice made her way up, stair by stair, until she had a view of the next floor. It was a massive workshop, a mess of wire and metal, copper and lumps of gold, arranged in piles.

She could now see Emma and Dorian; Dorian sat on a table, with the affectation of a cat watching a bird through a shut window. Emma, on the other hand, was flitting about, picking up tools and materials, putting them down, going back and picking them up again, and so on.

“You’re going in circles,” Dorian said.

“Shut up! I’ll go in circles as much as I want. I’ll walk in circles and retread the same ground till I drop dead if I want.”

“If you die there will be no one to get me out of an endless expanse of nothing,” Dorian replied, “so please. Walk in more useful circles, at least.”

Emma stopped walking in her circle, and picked up a glass bulb shape.

“Alright. Yeah. I’ll install this, close up the cover, and--”

Oh, so this was Alice’s one shot. Well…

She could walk away, and let Emma get herself in whatever trouble. She would receive no thanks for interrupting and stopping this. It was a rational choice; it was the path of least resistance. Whatever she tried would be met with Emma-brand stubbornness and insults, more pain, more destruction. It would be a good choice to let her do whatever this was and walk away.

So, naturally, Alice stepped into the workshop and announced her presence.

“Stop right fucking there,” Alice said, “stop whatever it is you’re doing. Whatever the fuck is happening, just. Stop. Before you pull some really dangerous shit that gets you in trouble.”

Emma turned to Dorian.

“Can you deal with her? I have a headache.”

“Uh… yes. I can deal with… Alice here. I can do that. Definitely.”

A deep sigh escaped Emma, “What’s this? What is this hesitation? What’s--”

“She zapped me with a spell, and based off that look on her face, she’s itching to do it again. No thanks. You deal with her.”

Alice took this opportunity to walk straight up to Emma and grab whatever glass bulb thingy that she was holding. This solicited a shrill noise from her unlucky twin, a possessive sound that could break glass.

“Give it!”

“Listen.” Alice held the bulb away from Emma’s reach. “Let’s review what you’re doing. You’re doing the bidding of a guy, who…

“One,” she held out her pointer finger, “was a shitty boyfriend and/or lover;

“Two,” the middle finger joined the fray, “stole your work and got you expelled.”

Emma ground her teeth together, making grist of her own enamel.

“Three,” ring finger showed up to the counting party, “disappeared? Died? And now… is here. Getting you to do mysterious work that seems super fucking weird. What the hell does this machine even do?”

At that, Emma snarled and snatched the bulb back.

“What does it do? You really want to know? It opens a door to better worlds. Ones where our little family isn’t a fractured mess. One where Bailey doesn’t make a villain of herself, where you and I aren’t on the verge of wringing out each other’s necks!”

Alice exhaled, and squeezed at the edges of her forehead.

“I’m not trying to wring out your neck,” she said. “I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Don’t bother. I can look after myself; where I falter, my dad and the church will patch up the holes.”

Emma considered the bulb; it was an incandescent, electrical thing, multicolored and multifaceted. From one angle it was a deep, bloodied red, and from another, a soft pink, blue, and white, twisting into one another.

“Your dad, who you’re leaving behind, here? The church, that would crumple you up and throw you out the second you cease to be useful?”

The sharp twin, the dull razor, the rusted-shut scissors, Emma, turned away from Alice and stomped towards the big machine in the center of the room.

“Oh, hit a nerve, did I?”

“Dorian, come on, get ready,” Emma said; “it’s time to cut ourselves loose from these cobwebs.”

Alice, not one to let this lie, shadowed behind Emma, just out of hitting range. She followed behind Emma, mimicking her every gesture and expression, exaggerating it all.

“Quit it.”

Emma said it without turning around, like she already knew what Alice was doing behind her back.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“You are so fucking annoying, Alice. You’re a blight and a pest, you’re a fly in the ointment, you’re a day-old cup of tea left to go vile.”

“Just doing my job as your sister!”

This triggered a locked-tooth growl from Emma, and an evil smile from Alice.

“Savor the moments while you can, Alice. When I’m gone off to a new reality, you’ll be stuck tormenting Bailey and only Bailey with your silly little whims… and she’s a bigger pest than you.”

Alice snatched the bulb back from Emma and said, “Want to bet?”

“That is mine. Give it b--”

And then Alice felt awfully loose, out of nowhere. Her body felt like a massage, like a steam bath, like counting sheep. The glass bulb slipped out of her hand, and her body joined it on the floor.

“Dorian, what the hell?”

“I got bored of your bickering. I’ve been waiting, Emma, for a long time, to be able to have my physical body leave my hell.”

“So you -- what kind of spell was that? Why--”

“Paralysis spell; every motor muscle in her body is forcibly relaxed. It’ll wear off soon enough.”

Emma fumed.

“Look, the stability bulb is barely cracked. We’re good to go. Let’s make this magic happen.”

“I had that under control,” Emma said.

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Whatever you say. Go fix my machine.”

She rolled her eyes, and went over to the machine. Dorian squatted down, and grinned at Alice. When he spoke, he spoke in a soothing voice, like how someone would speak to a child after a nightmare. This made the actual words he said sound even more fucking sinister somehow.

“Poor, poor Alice,” he patted her on the cheek, “when you can move your body again, I will be a king and your sister will be in hell in my stead. It was a good, valiant try.”

He paused, and looked Alice over, really sized her up.

“When I am ruler of all reality, I’ll think about this moment, this moment someone almost beat me, and I’ll go… ‘heh’.”

And then, he stood up, and left Alice unable to move.

“Emma,” he called, “let’s get this show on the road!”

 

***

 

The kitchens were just as much of a nightmare labyrinth as when Henry was last working in them. He and Lillian dashed in heedless lines through servant’s passages and kitchens full of people, servant’s quarters and laundry rooms and--

Henry knew how to more or less spring across this whole plane of existence, this endless loop of utilitarian rooms. They were colorless, save for the little scraps of life the staff added themselves; a painting here, a collection of rocks set against a nightstand there, jugglers’ balls or a musical instrument laid in a stand, a painting done by a staff member and hung up in the kitchen as decoration.

All that said, though, Henry bumped right into Belladonna, who was also going full speed. Both toppled to the floor of the staff quarters and came to painful halts.

“Ow!” Henry said.

“Henry!” Belladonna said.

He was on the floor, legs splayed open, ass to the ground, and still a little unsure how he got there. Lillian offered him a hand, and he took it.

“Thank,” Belladonna said, as she pulled herself up to her feet, “goodness. I was worried -- nevermind. You’re, you’re alright. Yulia and I have been running around trying to find you…”

She looked around the room.

“Where’s… Bailey? And Hannah?”

“We split up,” Henry said, “they took Apple Sauce and made a break for it.”

Belladonna took that like a bitter spoonful of medicine.

“Shit. Okay. Okay. Fine. Uh… we need to get you out of here, like, right now. You went and kicked the hornet’s nest, and now they’re swarming.”

“We cannot leave until we stop whatever Emma is up to,” Lillian said.

“Yes you can. Fuck her. She’s bought into the Order --- she didn’t even flinch when Sir Frederick confessed to all that horrible stuff. Who cares about her?”

It was a rhetorical question, so when Henry and Lillian both said, “Bailey cares about her,” Belladonna looked exhausted, like the most put-upon human being to ever be born.

“Alright.” She dragged her hand across her face, like nails across a chalkboard, like metal squeaking and groaning against stone.

“We’ll get to Emma’s tower, deal with whatever’s there, and then we can go. We can handle this,” Henry said.

“Uh, no. Like I said; the hornets are swarming. You, really, really, really need backup. We’ll collect Yulia and--”

At that moment, through the very door Henry and Lillian had entered the staff quarters from, Yulia burst in at a dead sprint. She locked and bolted the door behind her with an expression twisted in terror.

She only stopped to inhale a new breath of air when she was sure the door was locked.

“Okay,” she exhaled, “okay,” once more, she breathed out, and in, “okay. Hi. Where are Bail--”

“Doing something dangerous,” Belladonna said.

“Oh, good.”

Yulia stepped into the room; she took in the bunks, laid out in a rectangular grid, and sniffed at the air. The mildew and sweaty sheets hung in the atmosphere, held in place by the stagnant air.

“We need to leave, right now. His Lordship is, how do I put this, hot on my tail. I don’t know if he recognized me, but he seems to think--”

The door and its many deadbolts strained against the pressure of an unseen force trying to get the door open. Bang, it went, when said force realized that the door was locked.

“Open up, serving girl. I know you know where they went!”

It was time for the four of them in the staff bunks to leave. With great purpose, they made their way towards the door on the opposite end of the room.

Bang.

“I know you’re in there!”

Bang, bang. The door wasn’t looking so good. For all its locks and deadbolts, the wood of the door was not built to hold. Wasn’t the castle supposed to be a place of defense? Why wasn’t it built to--

Bang. The wood splintered and fell away, and now Henry could see Lord Gaius, and Lord Gaius could see all four fugitives.

“Ah hah!” Lord Gauis said.

“Run,” Henry said, “like hell.”

They did.

 

***

 

Hannah and Bailey rode out into the courtyard like the stone walls of the castle were the halls of hell itself.

Apple Sauce was fast; faster than Hannah was prepared for. It was only because Bailey was holding the reins that she felt any sense of security.

“So how do we save your sister?” Hannah asked.

“Good question!”

Hannah waited for Bailey to elaborate. She didn’t.

It was a frigid winter night; snow was an inverse blanket, drawing heat out from everything and everyone. It fell down hard over them, it overwhelmed and clung to them. White flakes of solid cold clung to Bailey’s hair, Apple Sauce’s fur, Hannah’s dress.

Bailey sighed, and stopped Apple Sauce’s gallop.

The wind was crying out an angry frenzy. Emma’s tower, despite being so close, seemed to grow more distant and remote as the weather stewed.

“We need to get to some shelter,” Bailey said; “Apple Sauce isn’t taking this well.”

“Neither are we.”

“That’s--”

A blast of wind and ice hit Hannah and Bailey straight in their faces.

“Yeah. Uh…”

Bailey looked around, and Hannah tried to look with her. Grey clouds festered, and great flakes of frosted pain were coming down even harder than before. They could only just barely see Emma’s tower, with a strange light shining out its windows.

“Oh, fuck. That doesn’t look so good,” Bailey said.

“Are we too late?”

“Probably. Let’s find out.”

Bailey went to get Apple Sauce moving again, but something whistled past Hannah’s ear, and fell to the ground.

Hannah looked down. That ‘something’ was an arrow, with a barbed point at the end of it.

“Get us moving, and -- fuck. Get us to cover, I guess? I’ve never been shot at before!”

Another arrow whistled past, and similarly fell to the ground. The chill wind was good for something, after all!

“Go! Go go go go go!”

It was fair to say that Hannah, well, was freaking out a little bit. Her chest felt tight, her breath sharp and painful, and her muscles taut and sore.

Without a word, Bailey got Apple Sauce moving again. Neither Hannah nor Bailey uttered a single word while they rode, fast and dangerous, as the sound of weapons-men marching under a frigid sky echoed behind them.

More arrows were fired; none hit, since the wind blasted away and knocked them to the ground. It was like a shield, like someone was twisting the elements themselves to protect them.

The light of the tower, shining a pale and otherworldly blink, called to them. They were aboard a ship, sailing straight towards a lighthouse. They were moths, flying right towards a flame. They were two women, riding a horse to a bad omen.

The geography and geometry of the castle was uncoupled from any sense of space or location. They were in a nowhere of ice; an everywhere of bad weather.

That nowhere gave way to none other than the labyrinth, the mess of stone and plants and whorling vines.

“Okay, this is cover, at least,” Bailey said.

“Yeah.”

Bailey directed Apple Sauce into the maze. She made a reluctant horse noise, a sigh of a whinny.

“I know, girl, I’m sorry. We’ll get you warm,” Bailey said, patting Apple Sauce’s flank, “You’ll get a hundred carrots when we’re through.”

 

***

 

The weather was less harsh, somehow, in the maze, which Bailey thanked her lucky stars for. It was still cold, it was still snowing, it was still biting in the wind chill. It was at least an improvement from before!

“So, how did you do that thing?” Hannah asked.

“What thing?”

Hannah snorted.

“‘What thing?’ she says. That spell, you bowled those guys over and saved our asses.”

“Oh,” Bailey looked down, “that.”

It was nice and quiet in the maze, which meant that Hannah could hear the gentle click of hoof against snow, and Bailey’s sigh.

“I -- I’m…”

Bailey sighed again. How was she supposed to explain it? It was so…

Just tell her what happened, said her new brain roommate. Or, not new, but new to Bailey, even if she was there before.

“There was a dream last night. But it wasn’t a dream, exactly. I talked to… I talked to what was left of my past life… and that past life was The Sorceress. The previous one, I mean.”

They kept on plodding along, atop their snow-covered steed. Bailey awaited her roommate’s input, but none was supplied.

“As it turns out, the Sorceress, she… did something. She and her three lovers, they’re echoing across time, I guess, reincarnating over and over, and I’m the latest iteration of the Sorceress…”

Hannah made a ‘huh’ noise, and spoke up.

“Wow. Does that mean me, Lillian, and Henry…”

Bailey nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“But there’s a piece of her left. And she’s with me,” Bailey tapped her head, “here. That was her, doing the spell…”

Bailey turned her attention to the shared mindscape between her and her roommate… head roommate? There had to be a word for that.

That wasn’t me, by myself. It’s your body; I just supplied the knowledge for the spell. We both made that spell happen. I’m a consciousness in this body as you are; all I have to my name is my history and my glittering personality.

Bailey then looked back to Hannah.

“She says… oh, why don’t you tell her? Why do we have to do this secondhand?”

Bailey bit her lip, or rather, the frost at her lip, and sighed.

I categorically refuse to speak up through your mouth or to use your body unless in an emergency.

Well, Bailey shot back mentally, I would call it ‘our’ body, ‘our’ mouth, but we can work on that. Just… ugh. Fine, I’ll do it.

“She refuses, and I quote, ‘categorically’, to speak up unless necessary,” Bailey said aloud.

“That’s annoying.”

All Bailey could do was shrug.

“She’s not been in control of a body for over three hundred years. I can forgive that.”

Can you?

Oh, hush, Bailey said back, I’m trying to be nice.

The conversation was cut by a sound -- boots crunching against snow. Lots of boots crunching against snow. Orders given, weapons at the ready… in the snow.

Fuck.

Bailey looked behind them. The snow was coming down, but slowly, and…

Ever since they’d entered the maze, they had been leaving behind a trail of Apple Sauce’s hoofprints. It was still snowing, but it wasn’t covering the prints quickly enough to hide their presence.

“We’re about to be attacked. I give us two minutes to live,” Bailey said.

I give us an hour, said the Sorceress, helpfully.

“Oh,” Hannah said, “good. Excellent.”