The sharpening wheel in Nightfall Castle’s shed whirred, slicing micro-thin against the edge of a sword that Nyx had never used before but was willing to try.

It was long, but slender and light. Not the sort of thing that got Nyx excited, even though by all rights, their shadow and transformation powers should have given them a taste for subtlety.

But it felt so fragile in their hands, as if the twig might at any moment break.

The sword shed sparks, each one flying and fading and dying. Each one seemed to Nyx like a possible future, alike terrible and great. Maybe they all amounted to the same thing, in the end. Was that defeatist thinking? Or was it overoptimistic?

Nyx did not consider themself a great philosophizer. They chose not to pursue it, and instead just kept their nose to the grindstone...uh, grinding wheel.

***

A new person stood in front of the mirror. In a crowd behind her stood most of the underlings of the castle—Dodd, Felicity, Ethel, Darling, Agi—all curious. Agi’s eyelids hovered half-closed contemptuously, but he wouldn’t have been here if he, even he, wasn’t intrigued.

Nyx set a hand to their throat and felt the vocal cords shift beneath it.

Athalie DiPomme was a pretty halfling, dressed in sky blues and white with light armor. This persona's bodyshape wasn’t much different from what Nyx was used to, just shorter and somewhat less muscular. The physical weakness was certainly something to get used to. Nothing insurmountable when you’ve got magic—and Nyx wasn’t going to compromise on the strength of their magic.

She used light magic exclusively. No shadows and certainly no shapeshifting. When Nyx had asked Agi what the use of that handicap was, he’d answered, “On the one hand, it’s practice for your majesty’s weaker skillset. On the other, it gives you a way out—if a shadow should suddenly creep around, who will suspect the light user?”

“How’s this?” Nyx said, their voice a chirp.

Ethel tilted her head and squinted. “A little lower.”

“Ahem.”

“Great. Try some sentences.”

“The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain.”

“Um...try some sentences that sound like things Athalie would say.”

“You tell me,” groaned Nyx. Compared to Athalie’s, their voice was a lawnmower.

“We were thinking,” said Dodd, “that Athalie’s voice and personality should be more...pretentious.”

“Like a knight templar,” offered Ethel.

“So she’s haughty?” Nyx took a deep breath, shifted, and then Athalie began, suddenly with a British accent: “I hate monsters and demons with a passion! Nor will I tolerate such scurrilous behavior!”

“Where’d that come from?” Felicity muttered.

“You sound like you came from the next continent over,” said Agi.

“Okay,” Ethel said, “let’s make Athalie less fiery. We don’t want her to attract that much attention...”

Nyx took a deep breath. When she spoke, their voice was light and stern. Deep down, however, there was a slight tremble. “I have made monster hunting my mission in life,” she said, “so you can expect me, sir, to follow through on what I say.”

Ethel clapped once.

“She walks with her head high,” said Agi, “and stiff as a soldier.”

Nyx said, “I don’t think I need—”

Whoops. Hadn't changed their voice.

They coughed and went back to Athalie's. “I mean, I’m sure that I can refine those details myself.”

He frowned. “But my notes...I have so many notes.”

“Which is your fault. I asked you for an extended family tree, not walking strategies.”

And speaking of family trees, all the details of Athalie’s backstory were being refined by Nyx’s writer’s-room-like crew of handy servants, not only on paper and in a parcel of forged documents, but also in their minds at that very second.

Was manufacturing Athalie’s life in so much minutiae a useless, inconsequential mission? How could it be when any embellishment that made Athalie more lifelike could be lifesaving? ...Okay, maybe parts of it were useless, but like any project in the castle—like those recent times when they’d collaborated on hex-defending the castle—it gave them the sense of community, and purpose, that they all sought from the castle...if not as Nyx’s friends, then certainly as their employees.

After Nyx left the mirror (and began to walk, yes, like a soldier), Ethel handed her a short stack of fresh documents. Not the forgeries she would need at Farander, not even the precious letter from Athalie's fake Grandmother Karmddal they’d keep with her at all times. A stack of photographs, printed on parchment paper using ink from the twelve hells.

“We saw this in Nmita,” said Ethel.

“Nemita...”

“There’s no gap between the ‘n’ and the ‘m.’ You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

Nyx sifted through. The ink was fresh, smelled like oceanic grit, but had just dried. Village scenes in full color—the pedestrians, the bazaar, the beautiful water and the edges of the grove—exploded to life in their hands.

“Agi did it again,” they said, begrudgingly as ever. “He can’t find more mind jammer hex, but he can pull out mental photographs?”

“He said these are lower-quality from a busted machine.”

Athalie's head dipped closer to the photos. Amazed. “...You certainly can’t tell it.”

Seeing these was almost like flashing back to Earth. Hacking together ersatz video games was one thing, but these—they could have come from any good printer.

“I’m gonna cry.”

“Crying is good,” said Ethel. “For these photos, I mean. You want Athalie to cry over her homeland. It gives her another dimension.”

“I am...this close to telling you to shut up.”

“I understand. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Nyx said, rubbing their eyes with a stroke like a flash. “Just get ready to head out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s so soon.” But Ethel was lighting up. The way her shoulders rose by a hair gave it away.

“Do you know how soon Farander is?”

Ethel rubbed the back of her neck. “I know it’s fall, but I’ve lost track of time completely.”

“We’ll get a Gaian calendar...as if that’ll help.” Athalie smirked at Ethel, inviting her to do the same. Ethel did smirk back. “You did great today, Ethel. You’ve been helping me a lot. Don’t sweat anything...don’t worry about anything you did. I know you and you know me. We’re both trying, here.”

Ethel nodded.

Athalie said, “Good night, and take care.”