[Grace]

I covered my breast as if to ward a devilish presence fifty metres out.

That's what I told myself, anyway. To Call a Devil was contemptuous, but that's not what seized me.

It was Emmett. He conducted himself in a beautiful Shroud. This man, a transcaster who couldn't manage a simple Lapse a month ago, now bore a fierce Aura bristling my robe.

Squad Leader's gruff timbre shattered the moment. "Maybe he won't be useless after all. Sinclair, you wanna soften this thing up so us real Magi can drop it dead?"

Something about that irked me.

Emmett's Shroud grew brighter, as if in answer, yet the emotion faced something else.

A figure dipped into view from the distant left. That must be what prompted Emmett's response. Rags tattered its body, a skull covered its face, and a long ebon sword protruded from its right talon of a hand.

Squad Leader's question perturbed me in a manner eliding description. Whatever, Grace: you have more important issues ahead. I breathed life into my own Aura in turn.

Samael stepped one pace back. "A Devil? Maybe a Demon? No matter. Sinclair, make yourself useful!"

The murderous notion returned, whispering of Samael arranging Emmett's death, which was beyond absurd, so I waved it away.

The hellspawn lifted the point of its slender sword to seek Emmett's heart, Æther bellowing to match his. Its voice grated as if immolated. "Silence, impotent windcaller. You dare subjugate your only hope against me in pitched war?"

A Demon, then. Devils were pure manifestations of the subconscious. Demons were the intelligent sort. What's more: this one spoke the modern tongue. No "Thou" or "Ye" or anything else. This Demon was Called enough times to adapt, and someone with enough gall to oppose Ser Lienne knew its Name.

Samael opened his mouth to speak, but Emmett cut him off with a raised hand and a falsetto. "You wish me to reconnoiter her capabilities." It rang of mocking insult, though not on purpose: Emmett had to have required a mnemonic to maintain such an intimately feminine affair.

The Demon was far more outspoken in its reaction. "Thou art chained! The claw of Werman hath into thine heart sunk!" Yea verily it doth the old ways know.

Squad Leader gazed dead on the skull helm. "What are you talking about? He's-"

A ball of Shadow swatted Samael well out of view. "Thou wouldst so brazen be, this dame to misname?!"

What just happened? Why'd it retaliate so harshly against Samael? Did it think he had misgendered Emmett? Did Demons even care about that?

Patrick stepped forth and broke my train of confusion. "What do you me-"

"Demons don't know facings, Patrick!" In hindsight, it was far too obvious: Magick only cared for the shape of one's Soul. Insofar as the hellspawn's concerned, Emmett was a woman, the same as I, socialisation be damned. But of course it would see Squad Leader's remark as the height of offence. It'd have smitten Patrick just as well, and unlike Samael, I cared somewhat for him. Please take the hint.

Patrick's eyes faced me with the glaze of exposure to madness, but Emmett broke the silence.

"You'll pay for that." His voice chorded in finality, Magick blazing as she lowered into a sprint.

The Demon held its blade in an obscure guard, turning sideways and lunging into the weapon with right hand on hilt and left hand on spine.

Emmett kicked off in a charge, our Shrouds overlapping at that moment. Two visions eclipsed my sight.

The first was a black-haired skirted woman in what appeared to be a ruined village visited by several Deans and a- Jade. Her name was Jacqueline Jade. "Five years and all you can produce is that? Are you fucking with me? You realize how basic that shit is?!"

Blood boiled. Tears threatened my eyes. I didn't even know this bitch beyond my sorry excuse of a father abandoning Mother to run off with her, but I felt no trace of his presence.

To think she chose that as her sendoff. No wonder Emmett said naught good of her. I wouldn't, either; just how heartless did one have to be to neglect talking about gendered casting?!

Emotions roiled, my heart opened, and the second voice spoke through the past.

"Okay, Emmy."

My heart skipped. I knew this voice. She was very close to Emmett if she could get away with calling her that.

"Take a slow breath in, and I want you to imagine breathing in the energy you need to make your eyes glow. Okay? Good. Now, when you breathe out, let the Magic split off and rise into your eyes- like that! See! I knew you had it in you!" 

Celeste-

"Sir, one day you will meet a girl... You'll want to shield her with your life. How? That Magick you have, that's how! Your spirit is strong, like my sister's... I know you'll be a great Magus someday. I can't wait to introduce you to her!"  

My nostrils plugged. Jacqueline may have terrorized her - him, how am I getting this wrong all of a sudden?! - to treat women as dolls instead of people, but fear would never lead someone to face down a Chancellor. Jacqueline was never his teacher; it was Celeste. He imprinted her code, her drive, in a show of absolute faith in her. In the truest sense, he became her Apprentice and carried her flame to this-

Did Emmett even know Celeste died?

A contest of Magicks sundered the dream. Emmett had just punched into the weapon, and it was only by their Æthers buffeting each other that he kept his hand.

Em's strike carried force. It didn't kick me off my feet the way it did in Stormingcalm, but my stance widened nonetheless.

There was, however, a problem: he performed his late Mistress' style verbatim, suggesting a Fire Attunement, yet the result fell shallow. I saw Emmett's power firsthand, and this was feeble. A Fire Magus of even half his strength should have knocked it into the next block with that passion.

My breath stilled and died. Emmett's Element isn't Fire! His Soul is replicating Celeste's, but he doesn't have the Attunement to back it up!!

The Demon huffed and swiveled its blade to the horizontal. It brought its left foot forward, choked its left hand to the hilt, and swung wide, shuttling Emmett further away. She thrust her sword into the sky and Lightning arced the heavens. "Catch!" its voice rasped.

My legs swept me off my feet, each step Strengthened without care for the Demon at all. In morbid hindsight, I only lived because it saw and honoured my intent.

That and Patrick assailing it with a beam of Fire gave a distraction to suppress with Darkness painted from the sword.

Still, I was too late. The Lightning from before crashed down upon- That idiot just tried to catch it barehanded.

I froze, my fury resting upon the thing that just hurt the final remnant of my late sister. It must have read the shift in my Shroud, for with another slash, a wall of ice engulfed me. 

I survived only by trained instinct and a globe of Water. 

Do not interrupt, I heard a darkly feminine voice boom in my head, She is far from done. Can you not hear her lust?

Lust? Was it toying with me?! I shattered ice around me with my own. Then I heard it.

Emmett was panting, every breath a moan with quite disgusting implications. Furthering the insult, her Magick had waxed and-

How many times has it been today?!

[Patrick]

Get your head in the game!

I sprinted the road with rustic constructs on either side, shoes pounding dust 'till I got to Grace. I knew not what this Demon nor its goals were, but it held a duelist's candor, only fighting those attacking it (unless someone pissed it off) and never once backstabbing.

Case in point: now that I held eyes just for Grace, it left me alone. In fact, the beast kneeled, plunging its sword into the dirt and... praying?! "I swear on my Name, sweet child of void, that I shall break you free of what this hell upon thee wrought hath."

I took Grace's wrist and pulled her aside to regroup. "We need a plan-"

A clash of Magicks thundered where we'd just been. I pushed Grace from the front and turned to shield her. What awaited me, to my awe, was Emmett Sinclair, wreathed in Lightning, binding two Æther-forged scimitars against the Demon's sword, pushing it down the road.

"You'll have... to try harder than that!!" Soon as friction took back its hold, Emmett planted his feet and flurried inhumanly against the enemy before him.

The Demon desperately rebuffed every strike with no room to retake the attack. Didn't Emmy just take a full column of Lightning to the- 

Heavenly Fucking Shite. This madman pulled the enemy Magick into himself, then subjugated it through his own Vessel!

It's theoretically possible for a man to do this but no one ever actually tries! One screw-up and your Magick's gone!

And as if thieving a human's Magick wasn't enough, Emmett Fucking Sinclair pulled that stunt on a Demon made of the stuff. In other words, the empty Squadmate absorbed the power of a hell and returned it to sender!

To further show that this was not his Magick, Emmett jumped and kicked at the black sword with his foot, detonating Æther to launch it backward and himself into the air. From this new vantage point, he compacted his right-hand weapon to Lightning and hurled it like a god passing judgment.

The Demon lunged, channeling Æther along the blade to draw in the Lightning. At any time this thing could switch to Water Magick or Dark Magick or something else new and drop Emmy flat. That it didn't, meant one thing: it wasn't fighting Emmett. It was testing him. But then why'd it say he's the only one who could chance it in a straight fight?!

Emmett raised his remaining weapon overhead two-handed. That blade is far too short to cover that range!

Apparently the Demon disagreed because it raised its own in turn.

The two swung their arms, sending sharp crescents flying at the other's heart. The two collided in a blink, but the Demon's won out, slicing through Emmett's with ease and gouging deep into his chest.

The Fire in me chilled as Emmett descended, depositing to ice when he hit the ground.

[Grace]

My right fingers sharped and tensed. Æther seeped through them, amalgamating into pitch tar. My eyes latched onto the Demon who just tried to take my Squadmate from me - again.

"Drown," I commanded. The jet ichor answered, swirling into a leaden ball of shade and cannoning away.

My target passed its sword to its left hand, coating it in violet Magick. It sliced through and dispersed my Spell. Before I even recognised what happened, it spoke. "I went too far. I will set this right and mend her wounds. You have my word."

Patrick snarled. "Her?!"

Staggering as if having Overdrawn, I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let the Demon heal Emmett." I turned to address the Demon. "If you lied to us, I will paralyze you and open every capillary as slow as I can manage." I held myself awake in fear of the worst. Why did one Spell drain me this thoroughly? I'm better than this!

The Demon bowed and leapt in a bound to Em on the ground, violet glazed into her blade. Then it plunged the sword deep into his chest.

I reached within for more Æther to eviscerate it, but it was Patrick's turn to comfort me. "Grace, look."

I turned my eyes to the scene of purple Magick rushing through Emmett's body. Royal violet pulsed and the wounds evaporated. The Demon even sealed the entry wound of her sword.

A god-sedating cocoon of relief whelmed me to faint.

[Patrick]

Grace Gardner is scary.

She would try to beat herself up later for overdrawing on "one simple spell", but I would set her straight. What she did was anything but.

First thing's first, however: follow the example Samael refused to set.

I stepped to the Demon who peeled and healed my peer under Jacqueline. I seized power from the air and willed it to Flame.

My foe inclined its skull-covered head, its voice strained and burned as ever. "Be at ease. I have no will to harm the woman behind you."

I took it with caution. Jacqueline always said Demons were fickle and changed their minds often, but they typically didn't lie. What confounded me was that this one would, being Called to steal Ser Lienne's grimoire, spare and even heal the Students she sent to retrieve it. "Alright. Riddle me this: Why'd you heal Emmy?"

The fur-clad flesh construct twirled its weapon in its charred hand, advancing calmly toward me in return. "As I said, I went too far. I sought to free her Soul from the torments she received hath, but lost myself in her fervor."

Her? Her?! After everything he just did to it?! This went beyond personal squabbling between the empty and me. I marched toward the slanderer. "You will not emasculate a man who went above and beyond obligation multiple times in defence of others!" I felt the singe of flame lick at my arm and punched out.

Before my arm could fully straighten, my foe was upon me, blade sluiced with Water. With a strike, she doused and washed me against a building. "I commend your loyalty but you live in delusion! It is not I who strip the masculine, but thou who the feminine bindest!"

I snarled, willing twin bolts of flame at the bitch. I'd known Emmett a lot longer than anyone, sword-slinging Demon included. No way in hells.

She twisted her body into a cart's wheel, weaving past the spell and expertly dancing into fisticuffs' range.

I met her downstroke with an uppercut, blasting it away. Then I focused a blaze straight to its chest.

To my surprise, the Demon accepted the strike, twirling clockwise as it slid back. A wall of black Magick swallowed a spear of Air from the right. She dropped to a stance and sliced upward, erupting an icy fault line clear at-

Samael. Samael reached for Æther but was too late; the stalagmite barrier dug into his right shoulder, blood spurting throughout.

Sanguine on ice was not my favourite aesthetic. I interposed myself between Emmy and the Demon, covering its left flank for a pincer maneuver. Can't cover both at once, bitch!

It could and it did. The Demon pointed a Water-tipped blade to me in its left hand while the right drew another Dark wall before Samael.

Of course the Demon cheats. I grabbed fistfuls of Æther and rattled a volley of Fire right at it.

Every flick of her sword splashed away my bolts. She was holding the damned thing like a rapier when it so clearly wasn't.

Looks like I have to switch it up. I stepped forward and let my arms flail like whips, the idea being to overwhelm her with an alacritous barrage, opening her up to a strong sustained burst.

The Demon matched my pace, taking light jabs at every flare I threw.

Twin Wind scythes assaulted her front and back. She fluffed the blanket of Darkness to swallow the left scythe and pirouetted to a breakneck slash, shattering the right scythe and leveling a full diagonal of taverns, homes, and shoppes with frost.

I ignored the obscenity of that demonstration and chambered my right arm as if drawing a bow. I snapped a hard punch, driving solid fire straight into its ribcage. Assuming it had one.

And then it purred. "Well met, son of flame."

Complementing me mid-fight? What the fuck?

Samael stepped out from behind one of the newly-minted ice sculptures, his right arm still limp with a deep shoulder cut. "I am Samael, heir to House Michaels and Leader of this Squad of freshies. I am more than enough to wipe your bloody-"

Our foe flicked its sword upward, forcing Samael to dodge another wave of frosted Æther lest he lose that arm for good. "You are no one and command nothing. Shall I amputate that arm of yours?" She held her sword in a high stance, ready to make good on her threat.

My foot moved forward for me to interrupt whatever it had planned, myself interrupted by an airborne icicle seeking its back.

The Demon coated her weapon in Darkness again and spun it downward, twisting her body to swat the barely-awake Grace's snipe attack.

Samael opened his mouth to speak, not that I would wait.

I kicked a burning wheel at the Demon and followed with another onslaught of flames.

"Damnit, Peterson! On my mark, you sh-" Samael jumped to avoid a shadowy lancet the Demon mixed in between parries.

If Samael was too busy pretending to be Leader, then I'll do his job for him. "Triangle spread, continuous fire! Don't yield a moment's respite!" I only mildly slowed my roll so I could speak while keeping the pressure on. Practicing what I preached, I paced until I was about 240 minutes clockwise of a Grace who struggled to hold a watery veil-shaped organ gun.

"You're not the Leader, freshie!" Samael kicked away from me, holding condensed Wind out to the Demon in his other arm.

The Demon, for her part, broke into an erratic dance, spinning both body and blade in a pattern I'd find alluring if it weren't parrying my flame shrikes, Grace's repeating ballista, and whatever avian shrapnel departed Samael's Wind ball simultaneously.

My deepest worry in all this was Grace. Emmy was fine with only Samael, an ally, having a line to him. Grace, however, was on her last legs and I needed a plan for when she tired again. There was also some weird anger I felt whenever I imagined anyone hurting her, but that wasn't important.

[Grace]

My Vessel was strained far past its limits. Everywhere hurt, my eyes stung, and my knees shook. It was all I could do even to manage this, and I knew it knew it wouldn't even do anything.

Even so, it dutifully included me, parrying my useless attacks.

I radiated gratitude for it pretending I was a threat. Not just me, either: it Transmuted Em's body whole again and masterfully at that. It would be trivial for it to wield Water and Darkness at once. We would be defenceless: Elements and Aspects alone fell to both together, so why bother pretending? Was it taunting us? Given it stole from Ser Lienne, it had no reason to let us live. Not only did it spare us, it even defended Emmett to the extent of apology and reparation.

What was this Demon, Who Called it, and Why?

I dropped to a knee, yet my Vessel held fast.

Patrick was rapidly showing admirable leadership. He took the lead when Emmett went down and quickly put the Demon on the defencive, saving Squad Leader whom it tried to kill, and preventing any pins to Emmett. I found myself miffed that he didn't move Emmett to safety, but he wasn't the brightest candle in the chandelier, judging by my memory of dampening the dust in Iron By Right to keep us alive.

In fairness to him, the Demon held a code of honour and regarded Emmett so highly as to declare him the only legitimate threat to it.

Speaking of which, how? I knew he had Yangside Magick, but not only had he never used it consciously, Light still lost to Transmutation.

My Vessel expired; my Spell collapsed. I dropped my hands on the grassy soil and gasped for air.

"Grace, take cover!" Patrick shouted.

"Gardner, get it together!" Squad Leader barked.

"What's your plan now that she is helpless?" The Demon taunted.

Anger and wrath flooded the air in blazing ire. "Don't you fucking touch her!"

"Peterson!"

"Try to stop me!" The Demon raised its blade as if to execute me.

Terror froze me to the bone. I knew this was a test, but to be utterly exhausted before a stronger enemy... Not to mention, what if it sought to hurt the others by killing me?

I hissed and spat at the Demon in a futile effort to scare it off. My eyes weren't even focusing.

"GINSENG-"

Emmett's Æther detonated out of her body for the second time.

[Patrick]

Ætheric force staggered me. I shook the Fire from my left arm so it wouldn't get mangled for a spell that wouldn't land. The scald inside hurt like fuck, but it was fifty times less than if I followed through. Not to mention I got to keep it this way; I was blind with rage until a split second ago.

I looked to my right and there stood Emmett with Magick flooding out in all directions. Where'd he even pull it from?! How is he not dead?!!

The Demon held up her blade in a neutral stance. "Why? You have already proven yourself."

Emmett held his hands up to either side. "Those... are my Squadmates..."

Samael hummed. "Alright, let's see if Emmy here can give an opening."

I shook my head. "You don't get to call him that."

Grace joined me with an icy scowl, not even bothering with politeness. With her last drop of stamina, she willed her voice into our minds. "Samael, back the fuck off." She probably didn't even have enough in her to isolate it.

Emmett crossed his hands in front, his ignited Magick billowing above like a bonfire. He uttered a deep yell, though it lacked the guttural bass. "If you're going to hurt them, make sure I'm dead first!!"

I scrambled away with haste. There was no denying it. Emmett Sinclair, somehow, jumped from impotence to being on par with some of the Professors! And this was after the exhaustion from doing the impossible the first time!

"SAPPHIC! GUARDIANESS!!" The azure pyre erupted above his head, blazing into a well-breasted womanly silhouette. Emmett's arms uncrossed, and the goddess-sculpture drew a pair of giant sabres from its breasts, tips facing the Demon like wicked pincers.

Sadly, even the unyielding juggernaut that was Emmy must yield to physical reality. The spectral form was unstable and distorted by Lightning with Emmett's body creaking from the strain.

The womanly silhouette distorted even further, pulling her arms back in tandem with Emmett's own. The Æther comprising the spectral woman flowed as magma into the weapons.

Emmett forced his arms further, digging into and threatening to snap his shoulder blades. The Lightning sparked harsher with the silhouette boiling away. "Viper... Offen...ci-"

The silhouette thinned, presumably to condense itself into the sabres, but instead fizzled away, leaving behind a shallow wisp. The loose Æther glided toward the Demon, not that it would matter. Emmett had fizzled his spell from overexerting himself. To be honest, it was a miracle he didn't shatter his skeleton.

The Demon, for her part, ignored the blunder and held out her sword to receive it. She even kept her Æther Unattuned.

Unfortunately for her, I was not so kind. I willed an explosion at my feet to close the gap. Ginseng Cannon wouldn't cut it: I didn't have the anger now, and it put out too much collateral damage. I needed an inward focus to concuss this bitch with the entire force of a spell before she knew what hit her.

She glanced toward me, her wrists bending slightly when whatever that Sapphic Viper thing was met her sword.

"CENTRIFURNACE!" Instead of an explosion, I gathered my Fire around my hands, cupped them around her head, and sent all of it imploding into her skull. It landed perfectly, but I was still flying forward so I took quite a facial burn from my own Magick. I didn't care about that, nor that I landed face-first in the dirt. 

That Demon was reeling and Samael had my back.

[Em]

My last-ditch effort to keep my Squad alive failed.

Save your strength, the feminine voice in me had said.

What good was saving your energy when your friends were on the chopping block and now they were going to stay there?!

I was exhausted to the hells and back. Everywhere felt dull and tired. Despite all that and despite having been cut open, I had not one bruise or scar on me. My robe was even in perfect shape.

I was just glad that Patrick could do something despite my last-second slip-up.

Alas, I was spent. Everything was up to Samael now, maybe Patrick if he still had anything. I just needed a place to hide and recover-

My Shroud alit of its own volition, drawing Æther I knew I didn't have. By the time I noticed, I'd already cartwheeled away from a horizontal bolt of lightning. The smell of rain on a sunny day told me this lightning was natural and not Ætheric.

I didn't even know that could happen.

LunaSoltaer

*running around as if injected with far too many ccs of caffeine solution*

I GOT TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

Okay Luna, calm down... calming... good.

Speaking of happiness, I think I have another book to talk about, 'cause this one inspired me in a rather unorthodox fashion.

The book is Anna's Dream by Seaspecter. It is a slice-of-life adventure comedy featuring what is essentially a rainbow-haired spawn of Cthulhu romping around like a kid who leveled their JRPG character to 99 before leaving the first dungeon. Normally I'm nervous with overpowered protagonists, but the real focus here is Anna learning about the world through exploring the different races and cultures, an undertaking facilitated by her party members who are far more world-wise than she is. It's a book for relaxing and silliness and it knows that and it plays to its strengths. Fair warning, the humor can get rather quite explicit, which, well, it's a functioning medieval fantasy world that's not afraid to touch on LGBT and polyamory themes (Which it does well and without trying to shame monogamy as reprehensible which is an incredible plus.) so it's kind of expected.

As for how it inspired me? For the longest time, the Demon was supposed to be a fairly generic demon boss fight for the Upstarts to beat and get experience out of. Well, that all went out the window when I wrote the Interlude last week. Seriously, the only things that stayed the same were the general appearance and Lienne arranging for it to have the book. I wondered how this plot device morphed into a full-on character before remembering I spent a while reading a book that did exactly that as its central premise.

And thus the gender-affirming Demon duelist was born.

Thank you for reading this far in my book. I'm anxious to hear what you think.