It was her. 

How could it be her?

It wasn’t possible- she was dead. Elaine died. Gwen had seen the body.

Did I? She thought. She’d seen an arm, a leg, a lock of hair. She hadn’t seen a whole body- she’d taken her father at his word-

Well there’s the problem right there. 

The night spread around her in a thick, cloying mass. Rain fell in a brutal rhythm, pouring back out the drain pipes and sewer grates and forming puddles in the muddy grass. A commercial area of Grand Rapids spread out underneath a dark canopy of spring rain. Buildings of brick and stone were washed clean by rain and dried by harsh artificial lights. Inside her, another light burned brightly. She wanted to drown it out with the rest. She drove by a liquor store and tried not to think about it.

A red light appeared before her, forcing her to stop, forcing her to halt. She clenched her jaw to the point of soreness. She stared directly ahead, listening to the rain and trying to shut out the urge inside her. 

Green light.

Foot moved from brake to gas. 

Forward.

She could breathe again.

She passed another liquor store. Then a bar. Then another bar. Then another liquor store. Then another- God, this city is depressing. Her hands shook, and blissful, treacherous memories of drowning flooded through her. She sat at another red light, at a four-way intersection that gave no indication that turning right on red was not an option. She did so, and drove down into a residential neighborhood. She pulled over and parked the first chance she got, and she propped herself against the window and shook. 

Five years, she reminded herself, clutching rings around her neck. 

She retrieved her cell phone from her purse and called Quentin. Her heart stopped between rings. 

“Gwen?” came the voice from the other end. 

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?”

“Trying to fight off the temptation. How about you?”

“... I’m fine. Where are you right now?”

“Parked in a residential neighborhood in Grand Rapids.”

“You’ve been there over a month now- you’re sure you’ve found him?”

“Her, actually. Isabella was right about that part.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear that- she loves being told she’s right.”

Gwen chuckled. “Yeah, she does. That’s not all, though.”

“What happened?”

She told him, and when she finished, she said, “It was Elaine. I’m sure of it.”

“How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Gwen said between choking tears. “I don’t know how it could be her but her face and her voice and her eyes- it was her. God, it was my baby sister.”

“Did she recognize you?” Quentin asked. 

“She said my name. She tried to kill me,” Gwen said.

“She must have been working for your father.”

“That's the only explanation. It’s just… That opens up more questions,” Gwen said, clutching the necklace ever tighter.

“Like what does your father want?”

“Like who else is alive,” Gwen whispered. 

“I thought you saw all the others-”

“No. I saw Arthur die, I saw Iseult die, I made Morganna and Tristan die. And now I’ve seen Elaine die. I didn’t see Percival die, and I never saw my mother die either.”

“...”

Lightning flashed overhead, a golden bolt stark against the black sky. The thunderclap came nearly a minute later. “Please say something,” Gwen said.

“I’m not entirely sure what to say, I must confess.”

“Fffff… Yeah, fair enough. I’m not either,” Gwen said, rolling down a window, retrieving a cigarette and lighting it. “I, uh, I think you guys are gonna meet Lacy soon.”

“That’s the girl’s name?”

“Yeah. She’s a real sweet kid. I think maybe in a few weeks, a month at the outside, we’re all gonna need to meet and start making some long-term plans about what we’re gonna do.”

“I agree. There’s… An incentive on our end as well, it seems.”

Gwen gulped, winced, said, “Oh God.”

“Gosh.”

“Fff. Just tell me what happened, please?”

“Are you sure? You seem stressed as it is, my love,” Quentin said.

Gwen took a long deep drag on her cigarette, feeling the hot smoke drift down her throat and into her lungs. “It’s gonna stress me out a lot more if you leave me hanging on vital intel.”

“... There was an attack tonight in Duluth. Ten ghouls, out in the streets. We were stealthy and took out most of them, but a few wound up being taken by the police. One of them is in custody now. And I believe the Federal Bureau of Investigation is getting involved.”

“Fuck!” Gwen said, punching the roof of her car.

Silence.

“Sorry,” Gwen said. “I owe you a quarter. Anyway, how bad are we talking here?”

“Bad,” Quentin said. “The Guild is using its contacts inside the Bureau to attempt damage control, but I don’t know how much they’ll be able to do. Civilians saw the ghouls. Children were there.”

Gwen took another long drag. “How many casualties?”

“None so far. But I feel something is on the rise, Gwen.”

“Yeah. So do I. I think… I think the Sovereignty is making a power play.”

“On what scale?”

“The biggest one possible.”

Silence. Rainfall. Thunder. A single flickering streetlight illuminated the windows, casting a dull golden glow that refracted off the water streaming down the glass. The odd car drove past her, trying to get out of the rain. Get home. Get safe. 

“And the ghouls?” Quentin asked. 

“I think they have a new king.”

“I see,” Quentin said. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel… Better? I think. I feel less on edge now that I know what’s going on.”

“And the urge?”

“Still there. Gonna need to buy a few more packs of cigarettes, I think.”

“Just so long as that’s all it is,” Quentin said.

“Do you… Do you trust me not to relapse?” Gwen asked, hands clenched.

“I trust you with my life, with my heart, and with my soul.”

Tears welled up in Gwen’s eye. “Thank you. I… I love you.”

“I love you too, my dear. We’ll talk again tomorrow?”

“Yes, definitely. Now get some rest.”

“You too.”

She hung up, and she smiled through the tears as she watched the lightning flash through the sky. She turned her car back on, and drove through the rain-soaked streets back into the commercial district. She passed a fish market, bought a half-pound of freshwater bass, and stood in line next to a shelf of hard liquor. Sweat pooled on her brow and soaked her hair, and her hands shook as she handed the sales clerk the necessary cash. “And a few packs of brown Nats,” she said to the clerk, who obliged. 

She made it out of the store, and back to her car, and back to her cabin, without relapsing. She felt as if the water was pooling around her ankles, clinging to her with each step, rising up and trying to consume her like an amoeba. Only by propelling herself forward could she stymy the growth, keep herself from drowning in the devil’s water. When she set foot inside her rented home, she began to breathe more normally again. She cooked the bass in her skillet with ginger and soy sauce and onions. She leaned back in her wooden chair at the kitchen table and stared at the ceiling and contemplated her life, her family, Quentin, Lacy, Joshua, Isabella…

Elaine. 

Percival.

She tapped her chest, and the white Star emerged and danced across the ceiling. She stared at it, reached for it, let it touch her fingertips and let the firestorm of magic surge through her. Everything came more alive, every sensation in her body and thought in her head amplified to the highest possible intensity. A white pyre that would consume her if she was not careful. 

The dual-pronged Prophecy of the Witch From the Far North echoed in her mind: You will mentor the Dark Lord, and with their help you will usher in a new age. 

Like every instance erstwhile, the odious words were broken glass in her throat.

Gwen reached for the Star and stored it back inside her heart. She fell asleep on the floor of the cabin, and when she woke up, the rain still fell, but there was a new intensity to it. 

One of her windows exploded inwards, and Gwen leapt out the way of the shrapnel. 

She summoned her Star as ghouls burst through into her cabin. They charged her, and she reached for a massive pulse of Starlight. It burned through her as she cried, “TOTER ENGEL!”

The death angel spread its wings over the entire cabin. When it was gone, seven ghouls laid dead at Gwen’s feet. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath, desperately clinging to consciousness. 

She wanted a drink. She wanted to rest. She wanted this all to be over, because it had been going on so terribly long. The devil’s water gathered again around her ankles, and she wanted to let it rise, envelope her, force its way down her throat.

Instead, she rose to her feet and ran to her car and floored it in the direction of Lacy’s house.