[Freya]

Ansel Bauer is a kind man. When something troubles him, he infuses his quest with the whole of his heart.

I was seated in meditation atop the table of Conference Room Nine, Shroud Augmented to Wind. Life breezed through the air and whispers of many and few thrummed in my heart. I am a Scion of Stahl. These are my charges. I will shield them with spearhead furor or die for them.

The northern air kicked up a storm; my Shroud reached to embrace it. Ansel's running. Away? Toward? In search? Search. What? Whom? Me?! Why? 

I replied with a Tell of one word: Wherefore?

Sharp horror pierced my Mind, thrusting me clear into the wall. Through the pain, I saw it all: Ansel's Terror, and Scion Adams' as-

The fell screech reverberated within me. My stomach leapt to my throat and plummeted to crater the nothing below. 

Someone had afflicted Lord Adams' Son with an Umbral Curse.

I wasted no time. Shouldering Calmarrow's sheath, I glided out of the room. It violated decorum to sprint, much less skate, indoors, but there was no time. This incident would make it back to Lord Adams, and soon.

Wind carried me down the stairs to the Ground Floor and over the halls to the rear exit. It stung that Ansel would miss me, but I hadn't the time to check on him. He's resourceful; we'll work in tandem.

I circled the College of Water and slipped through the front door. I darted through hallways and upstairs. I let my feet kiss the floor at long last before Classroom 235. I pressed open the room's door to find a space empty save a few students sharing books. On the opposite corner stood a second open door bearing the name of FAYT, ANGEL.

I brushed past the student desks, acknowledging my peers with nods as I passed them.

I knocked on the door of Ser Fayt's office, despite it being open. It was simply polite, especially for the audacious request I would ask of her.

"Come in," she beckoned, to which I did. "Oh, Scion Stahl!"

I curtsied before her. "Good Noon, Ser Fayt. May I close the door?"

She tilted her visage aside, her Shroud just barely above her flesh. "Wherefore?"

"I have dire news and an equally dire request."

With a snap of Ser Fayt's fingers, the door slammed shut. "If a Scion of the Triumvirate came to me with such urgency, it must be for a reason. I would hear you speak."

My lips rose in a smile. "Thank you, Ser." They then fell back. "Someone wielded Umbral Magick against Scion Adams, likely to strike an unshakeable fear in his Soul, and eventually Lord Adams will learn of it, and then Hells betide us."

Her body twitched, trembling under the force of my words. "A-are you serious?!"

I nodded.

"You realise Umbral Magick isn't something Magi can access?!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, neither is Astral Magick, yet they're in our House Lores, hence why I came to you and not the Headmaster. Not only do we have Lord Adams on the attack, but also whoever could Call such a potent Demon."

Ser Fayt buried her face in her hands with her elbows on her working desk. "We're going to enter lockdown and civil war, aren't we?"

I struck my heart with my fist and lowered my eyes in a moment of silence. "Lockdown, certainly. War depends on who the Caller was."

"... I don't exactly want Lord Adams here."

"Neither do I, but that's inevitable. We need to prepare an answer to him."

Ser Fayt raised her head to regard me. "What do you propose?"

I dropped to my right knee and fist. "My request. I apologise in advance."

Ser Fayt rose with a start. "Nonono you don't have to-"

"Please. Translocate me to Castle Stahl."

She froze. "I... how did you- and why would I do that for you!?"

I stayed kneeling. "You are Angel of House Fayt. You're a legend among legends. Even discounting that, your Æther is turbulent, and I know you're a Healer."

A hum departed her lips. "That may be, but you are extremely audacious to ask this of me when you know I'm a woman!"

"I know the pain of womanhood." I sniffled audibly, a tear falling free. "We die in the dark so men can live in the light. Believe you me, I won't let you suffer alone. I intend to beg for Mother's aid, but I cannot reach her timely on my own. My Squadmate, Selene. There's someone whom she loves, named Emmett-"

"Say no more." Ser Fayt's feet wheeled her to the door and out into the classroom. "Hey, Solaire, Caden, Rogers, O'Neil, Evanson! I'm sorry, but I'm closing the classroom. I have an urgent matter to attend to. Thank you for your excellent behaviour!"

"Of course!" "Good Luck!" "Thank you for letting us study here!" The higher-year students rose and orderly left the room.

Ser Fayt followed the last of them, Evelyn O'Neil, to the classroom door, locking it shut behind her. She jogged back toward me, locking her office door behind her. "Rise, Scion."

I obeyed immediately, standing at attention before the Two-Spirited Professor. "May I ask why the mention of Emmett swayed you?"

"You may."

I waited about twenty seconds for an answer before my palm knocked my face out of its confused stupor. "Tricksters, the lot of you! Fine, Why did the mention of Emmett Sinclair sway you before a breath could fall?"

Ser Fayt veiled her lips with her hand, a vain effort to cloak her amusement. "Well, a few months back, Destiny married a spitfire of a woman named Cherish Gardner."

My breath dived into my esophagus. "Wha- Pardon? As in-"

"You are correct," she replied with a theatrical bow. "Emmett threw himself against Chancellor Breckenbale, fully expecting to die, to save a woman from his vile wants. That woman is my niece. As far as I'm concerned Em is kin, so if Lord Adams is coming here and you have a card to answer, then you bet your arse I'm helping you play it."

I placed a palm to my heart. "Thank you so much."

Ser Fayt threw her arms in the air, Æther swirling as wind around her seizing claws, the emerald glow darkening into the bright royal violet of Translocation. Her voice howled in a pained and deepened yell. She crossed her left foot with her right, circled to face her back to me, and swung down her claws, tearing a rift of blue tinged with red in the space before her eyes.

My Shroud alit before me, Attuning in its freedom. It recognised its own in Element yet howled in opposition in Aspect, for mine was Light, even if I wasn't ready to cultivate that next level of myself.

In the shadowed light of her Magick sniffled Ser Fayt, her voice warbling. "I don't wanna be a man I don't wanna be a man I don't wanna be a man PLEEEASE don't make me be a man please Please I BEG OF YOU."

I placed a hand on each of her shoulders and kneaded them gently. "I won't let anyone call you a man, Ser Fayt. You have my word."

She turned around and pulled me into a gentle hug. "Thank you, Scion Stahl. You know not how much that means to me." She released me and gestured to the portal. "Let us be off."

I smiled and stepped through, Ser Fayt at my side. Distortion, perversion, and transversion wracked us both. My Soul balked, having kissed the outer membrane of the Umbra. Everything felt foreign, wrong in the way that paint drying was a wrong skin texture.

Not many people know this, but every Concept bears its connection to the Astra or the Umbra, depending on which Aspect is in play. Forging uses a touch of Lifeforce to forge Æther into matter. Communion uses the divine swiftness of Light to send an Astral message through the Matra. Healing is literally the gift of life, while Arbor returns Life to the World. Meanwhile, Calling summons beings from the Umbra and Gravity transposes the forces barring our flight. Transmutation warps the essence of Matter through the Umbra, while Translocation, as seen here, alters its presence. Naturally, these are all facets of Astral and Umbral Magicks, yet it is only through these abstractions that Magi can even approach those infinite vertices.

In a moment that stretched into minutes, the swirling colours sifted themselves orderly, painting a picture of sunkissed grass flanking the marbled entry road of the steely Castle Stahl. Even with the sun glaring proudly above, a dampening darkness always loomed over my ancestral home.

I did not intend to return for a long time, but this was an emergency. I took my first steps toward the outer portcullis, my right arm thrumming with Æther.

"Shall I follow you?" asked Ser Fayt from behind.

I shook my head. "Nay, this I must alone. Please, face away and stand guard until I return." I placed my faith in my teacher and hopeful friend before placing my last footfall at the portcullis ahead.

Castle Stahl's forward entrance is an elaborate ruse, betraying severe traps for any who are either unaware or not of House Stahl. Attempts to touch it lance your body with ancient Magicks, slaying you on the spot. Magicks and blows to destroy the gate are reflected threefold, using momentum absorbed from attacks on the outer walls. Hailing to be let in allowed House Stahl to unleash its stored Magicks upon you, and it is the tradition of House Stahl that only those escorted by their House may approach. Those guests not permitted by the Head to enter must turn their back to the Gate as a coded confirmation of approach permit. While the Castle is more like a small fort, its impregnable defences more than earn it the title of Full Castle.

The manner for entry varies subtly for Wermen and Wifmen of the House; namely, in opposition to traditional expectations, Wermen are to pray to the door and Wifmen to strike at it. At no point is the Gate to be touched. The Enchantments on the Gate would determine that you were a Soul of Stahl, and permit your entry. Thus, even a trespasser with perfect knowledge of our rites would be slain.

And that was what I would do. Checking my measure one final time, I shifted my footwork and chambered a straight punch, gathering my focus for one full burst of Wind. I struck forth, my fist mere centimetres from Death, and my Magick surged without relent. The gale kicked at least my hair up, probably Ser Fayt's as well, and the Portcullis revealed its true visage of a pane of stained glass shattering from the blow.

I stepped into the killing fields, and the glass repaired itself behind me, shifting back into the Portcullis façade. A solemn aura immersed the air. House Stahl was one of Battle Magi, some of the finest in the nation. As such, we were oft to wars called with no reason to fight, and many died in service of Can Vahs, or House Adams.

To be born into House Stahl is to command great strength yet live a short life.

I passed the Great Hall, greeting the sentinel on post with a curtsy before opening the back door. A smaller chamber awaited me, with two spirals of stairs, left descending and right ascending. I chose the option on the right, climbing up the swirling staircase to the left stairwell of the First Floor, then again to the Second Floor.

The Second Floor was abnormal in that the floor doubled as the roof of Castle Stahl, covered only by a ring of parapets. There stood one metal-clad structure, right beside the exposed stairwell, that contained the antechamber, some private rooms, and the throne room, but other than that, it was completely open to the outside.

Oh, and just in case you thought an Air Magus could dive onto the Second Floor, there's an Enchantment there too. We leave naught to chance.

I pivoted left and marched to the Noble Chambres. I slammed the underside of my fist into my heart and punched toward the armoured figures of Elder Sister Beatrice on the right and Cousin Once Removed Liam on the left, rendering upon them the House Salute. Straight Punch. Never Straight Poke! The Straight Poke Variant was the former Strikers' Salute of the Sleepless Seminary, which was not only desecrated by the Crusades, it also signaled submission with the open palm.

House Stahl represents the bulwark of the Triumvirate, shielding the citizenry against threats inside and out, including rogue Nobles. For this reason, the House Salute never submits to anyone.

Beatrice tipped her shield to me. "Sister Freya. Why now, of all times?"

I pulled back the salute and nodded. "I need to see Mother. It's important.

Liam tapped the pommels of his twin blades, giving me the stern regard only an elder cousin could. "Go." The door swung away to grant me access within.

I advanced past my kin, over the soft carpet, through the unlit halls, past the doors on either side, ignoring the branching deltas in favour of Mother's Throne Room ahead and the blonde-haired woman who guarded it.

"Mother is busy, Freya," said Artemis, holding her Chosen Destined in hand at her side, the lance that inspired my Calmarrow.

I would not be deterred. "This is important! It concerns Can Vahs as a whole. Let me through, Aunt Artemis!"

She thumped the pommel of her armament atop the cold iron floor. "Negative."

"Lord Adams is en route to CVAC and we need to mobilise-"

"Enough."

If it were for any other calling, I would have yielded. This time, however, there was no option. I opened Calmarrow's sheath with Magick and she flew to my hand.

We spearwomen rose, bringing our lancets to stance. Shrouds alit, hers of Light and mine of Wind.

"To think you would be so treacherous." Her tone rang a positively haunting chord.

"To make the hard choices takes steeled resolve!" I lowered myself to a lunging stance.

The throne room swung open. Our Spirits snapped back their strifes. A fully-clothed man walked out, escorted by Aunt Artemis. Before me, within the room, stood a matronly woman of brown and silver hair, skin paled and fully bared, so exposed we could see the glisten of the fur on her vulva. This woman was Lady Temperance Stahl and had at one point given my birth. "Freya."

I willed Calmarrow back to rest and stepped before Mother, rendering the House Salute to her. "Mother, if you would hear me."

"We never resort to weapons against our own." She kept her gaze taut against mine. "So tell me, prat, why you defy Us." That she stood fully stripped subtracted nothing from her terrific presence.

"I had no other way of getting to you, and this is vital!"

Mother stayed silent, her presence ushering me onward.

"Someone cursed Scion Adams by Umbral Magick, and Lord Adams will be soon en route! I know the rules; I accept the punishment! Please, Mother!"

"This would certainly complicate the matter of the Sleepless Seminary greatly. But your voice betrays a personal concern. Speak."

I pried my teeth away from myself and forced a breath through the shaking fibres of my muscles. "There exists a transcaster named Emmett Sinclair who has defied the will of Chancellor Neil Breckenbale of Stormingcalm. Lord Adams will most definitely wish vengeance upon him."

"I have heard of this." Mother folded her arms across her breasts. "You interrupted the forging of an alliance to beseech me the assistance of some boy on whom you're sweet?" She drew forth her Shroud, Earth and Dark melding to a smoke-like grey. "I raised you to hold better judgment."

"He holds the favour of House Fayt." I mentally cursed myself for relying on dropping a Name, but I had no choice if I were to stop a total War Of Magi.

"Hence their Two-Spirit's presence outside our doors." She focused her Shroud about her hands and charged it with a certain malice. "I will intercede, but you still broke our rules, girl."

I held my fist steady. I had an idea of what would happen and braced myself for it. "I know the code. I know what I did. I'm not running."

She seized my right wrist with her gravitas-infused left hand and clenched. In a flash, Magick perverse and inverse to mine took hold and ground the bone in my wrist to dust.

Agony swelled my throat, and I drove my teeth into each other to blunt out most of the pain. Tears lashed my face; my legs wobbled to the side.

Mother stepped forth, chest high and drowning the room in Magick. I dropped to my knees from the pain, avoiding pieces of her gilded armour soaring to her true as an arrow, locking in place and clothing her in totality. A small shield snapped onto her right arm, and her Falchion, Fate Defied, swam into her left grip.

I staggered across to the door to watch her caped and armoured self promenade into the open floor beyond, pulling herself out of Castle Stahl with her Gravity Magick.

I howled my agony several moments longer, finally mustering the courage to stand. As the wind blew, walking proved far more troublesome when your wrist was structureless and every little wobble blinded your vision. I had two full flights of this to endure, plus the Great Hall and Killing Fields beyond.

"Freya, are you alright?!" I heard my brother, Alvin, call.

Without wasting valuable movements on sighting him, I merely called, "I'm fine! Just got in big trouble with Mother. I'll be fine."

"You'd better be!"

I smiled through the torment. Alvin wasn't skilled or strong, but he was always kind. If he were not of House Stahl I'd have courted him in a heartbeat. Alas.

I forced my march all the way to the entrance, where I could freely step through the façade and out of the Castle.

Ser Fayt spun and rushed to me in alarum upon my arrival. "Freya, the Heavens and Havens happened to you?!"

"Nothing-"

She held her left hand around my wrist and willed Healing Magick through, pushing it into me. Her face contorted into a rage, however, when Mother's will retarded her Spell. "Who the fuck did this to you."

"Mother-"

"What filthy excuse of a person would dare Necroturgy against her own child?!"

"I drew a weapon-"

"Silence, Freya." Her voice carried an ire that I had never seen from anyone before. "Your Mother may rule this land, but upon our return, I have governing authority as a Healer, and you are getting Healed."

"Ser, you might rouse my House to anger if you-"

"The malicious injection of Lifeforce upon one kin is a mortal violation of spirituality. With all due respect, your Mother has already run afoul of House Fayt." With a huff, she about-faced and gathered a mass of Air Magick around her, slowly Aspecting to Dark Transmutation.

"You conniving, no-good, arrogant, elitist WHORE!" She swung down and tore a rift through space, pushing me through without a moment of hesitation.

I stumbled into the Infirmary, bumping against Ser Larsen's musculature holding a wooden pad with paper atop. "S-Sorry?!"

"Scion Stahl?! What are-"

Ser Larsen's words were cut short by Ser Fayt entering the room. "Scion Stahl is battered by persistent Necroturgy and requires your expertise."

Ser Larsen snarled. "Who-"

"Her mother."

Ser Larsen nodded sternly. "Understood. I'll stay out of your way. Freya, you're with me." He slowly walked toward the Healing Baths.

"What if-"

"No ifs, ands, or buts, young lady."

"What about Mo-"

Ser Fayt patted my shoulder. "Let us worry about her. You get healed, Scion." An unnatural protective fondness in her voice. Was Ser Fayt a human or an angel?

I sighed and followed Ser Larsen.