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2.12 Patreon Release
🕑 Added 2025-01-17 12:20:09 +0000 UTCI cannot talk about Dad’s death without discussing infernos, and it is difficult to discuss infernos, especially those of the firestorms, without first explaining free ripple, or ambient ripple. That’s the stuff that brings uncontrolled magical effects, be it from natural sources or as the runoff of flamebearer magic. Though the exact effects are myriad, on the whole, there is an obvious analogy to radiation.
In nature, both can be found in relatively trace quantities, and indeed, there is strong evidence of a link between the two: like how Earth’s magnetosphere shields us from the majority of the sun’s constant barrage of radiation, ambient free ripple also flows from the earth’s geomagnetic North Pole. This is believed to be why flamefall generally travel from north to south—though it’s not known why all colors of ripple seem to obey this law instead of just blue, the color typically associated with such physical phenomena. This northward gradient of ambient ripple had also been speculated to be the reason—or at least a reason—for the Spire’s location in the North Atlantic.
The resemblance to radiation continues into the effects on the human animal. The body can cope with the quantities found in nature in the short term, and even adapt in the long term; just as the skin will produce melanin in response to UV, prolonged exposure to ripple causes the bone marrow to produce ripple-reactive agents, microscopic-scale natural glyphs that convert ambient ripple to green and thereby cause the mild mutations that are common at the higher latitudes and other regions that happen to be hotspots of free ripple. This marvelous phenomenon of biology was one of a precious few glimpses at the natural principles underlying glyphcraft that had yet been observed, back when I was meeting with Hikanome in that mirage of Yoyogi Park.
As with radiation, when we step from the natural world to the works of man, things get far nastier. High intensities of free ripple or radiation will rapidly degrade tissue; past a certain threshold, both will kill you in minutes, if not seconds. Near an inferno—the flamefall or magical disaster kind, not the politicized VNT kind—reality begins to break down. If you’re lucky, you die quickly from having your pieces rearranged and split as space and matter lose cohesion. If you’re not, you die slowly and painfully from a mix of spatial, mutagenic, and matter-altering effects while the qualia and basic information of your existence get shredded and put back together in a ransom-note collage of suffering that may extend far beyond where reason would normally dictate you are entitled to the sweet release of death.
In this, the chaos of ripple, magic run amok, far outstrips even the wildest comic book notions of radiation. It is a worse way to die than anything that existed before the Frozen Flame arrived.
It’s what happens to a flametouched who goes infernal. It’s what happened to Dad.
—
“No.”
“Ezzen,” Hongo began, spreading his hands reasonably, “this is not an attempt to make you relive your trauma. We both want to better understand what happened on the first day of the firestorms.”
“What’s in it for you? Your interest isn’t scientific,” I spat. “What are you even hoping to find? He was killed by a force of nature, and he suffered. I suffered.” I raised my burned hand, blinking away the tears threatening to well in my eyes. I couldn’t show weakness in front of these jackals. “If you have as much respect for me as this whole reception implies, then how could you even suggest putting me through that again? And if you can bring back some fragment of the dead—” I gestured at the too-empty facsimile of the park that surrounded us. The branches overhead might have been covered with leaves now, but that didn’t mask the feeling of being caught in a net “—which I can’t possibly verify is anything more than a parlor trick when you’ve got me isolated like this—then you’d be putting him through that too. It’s sick.”
My anxiety had boiled over into defiant frustration. In a way, this was worse than outright hostility or a physical attack; it was an insult to Dad’s memory. My interest in magic had begun in an attempt to understand, scientifically speaking, what had happened to Dad. I wasn’t going to let these charlatans convince me that his death had been for some “higher purpose.”
I searched their faces for any sign of contrition. Kimura avoided eye contact, looking down, lips pressed together in a thin line. Hongo seemed frustrated, almost imperious—good. Miyoko met my eyes, face level. Her voice was still soft, but not gentle.
“We know why the dragon sent you. We know what she wants from us. This is what we ask in exchange: a chance to learn truths about the Light from you.”
Hongo picked up after her before I could rebut. “Suppose we’re right, little Heron. If the Flame you carry now is connected to both that day and to the Spire—think about what that would mean. Think about the leverage that could give you in going there, in escaping the PCTF. The Vaetna are avoiding you and the others who carry your blessing, when they should have been the ones to save you. Don’t you want to know why?”
“Escaping the PCTF,” I repeated. “You sold Amane to them.”
That at last got a rise out of Miyoko. Those creepy eyes with the space behind them began to glow, flickering pink. I was glad to have gotten under her skin with that—now we were talking about something other than the worst day of my life. Hongo also bristled, but Kimura raised his hand to stay them both.
“We did not hand over one of our own to those butchers. Sugawara did, and that is why we helped Toudai destroy him.”
His voice was angry in a distant way, disinterring memories of a dark time. Served him right. “They said you helped him,” I countered.
“Coercion. He was going to hurt somebody I loved.”
“And that stopped you? Some gods you are.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “It was too dangerous to oust him. Too costly. The only reason we survived was because we only faced his supporters, not the military men he paid. That was Takehara-san’s job.”
“Mahou shoujo don’t fight wars,” I quoted, but I couldn’t put any acrid bite into it; I knew it was hollow. My stomach dropped as I remembered how the girls had gone along with my plan, aided and abetted the idea of an artillery strike while carefully dodging the facts of what we had been going to do to the human beings aboard Thunder Horse. The person I’d watched melt—I had inflicted on him the same degree of horrible death that the wild Flame had done to my dad, because I had thought it was the right thing to do. And so had the team of magical girls I now called roommates. “O—okay, yeah, I hear it. That’s bullshit,” I admitted, sobering, guilt tempering my anger. “But I still trust them more than you.”
“Hm.” Hongo was examining me in a way that made my tattoo itch. “So you’ve seen something of what they do.”
“They want us to face the PCTF directly,” Kimura continued, “and Takehara-san knows that will be far more costly. That is why she’s offering you. It is a fair trade.”
“She didn’t know you were going to pull this stunt.”
“You really believe that?” said Hongo, smirking. “Arranging for you to meet us separately from Miss Ishikawa and Miss Hirai? The dragon knew we would know your history, the things that make you unusual and exceptional. She knew we would do this, and trusted us enough to allow it to happen. So you can keep thinking we’re monsters and wonder why she would allow it, or you could trust her and us, but you cannot mistrust us without also mistrusting her judgment.”
I swallowed, remembering how Alice had been so pushy about me attending, how I’d been kept relatively in the dark about what to expect from this meeting. “My—my answer is no.”
Hongo’s smirk shifted into a more genuine smile and an approving nod. “Backbone is important for our kind.”
“As you wish,” Miyoko affirmed, impassive once more. She rose to her feet, robes draping around her, though they still fell below her shoulders and chest. I found that I was already pretty numb to the nudity. “We will not ask again, not today. We only ask you to spare it some thought as you enjoy the festival. We will not give Toudai our full support without understanding the circumstances that brought you here, from the beginning. It could inform much about what is to come.”
Hongo stood as well. “They say the Peacies are going to make their first moves soon. I don’t suppose Miss Hirai gave you a timeline?”
I bit my lip. I’d overheard the three-week number Yuuka had given, and it had been four days since then. I wasn’t supposed to leak information—but they obviously already knew about Yuuka’s foresight, and it was mutually beneficial for me and Todai if Hikanome knew how long we had, right?
“…two weeks, give or take.”
“Then we’ll ask again on the first of March.” Ten days from now. He checked his watch. “The ladies are about to wrap up their entrance. Thank you for your time, little Heron. Miyoko-san?”
Miyoko nodded. The space around us began to glow. I smelled woodsmoke as the bubble of private reality began to fizzle away and the true space of Yoyogi Park began to bleed in. Kimura stood as well.
“We are not the cult you think we are, Ezzen. This festival is a celebration of light and warmth, not a show of power. You are welcome to walk the grounds and see the way we live. But first, come eat with us. There are many things we would like to discuss with you, things that are not so dark.”
—
It was a palpable relief to see Amane. Yuuka too, begrudgingly, but it was especially reassuring to see Radiance Amethyst’s towering form raise a crystalline arm to wave at me as she approached the true VIP section.
When Miyoko’s illusion or pocket dimension or whatever it had been had fully dissipated, the priests’ handmaids and staff had quickly moved in to upgrade our seating arrangement. Bamboo mats had been laid over the tarp and more sitting pillows had been procured, and a long, low table made of beautiful, wine-dark red wood had been placed in the center. Despite the grander displays of wealth, I definitely preferred this to being three on one on their turf. The bare branches and pale winter sky also helped dispel that feeling of being in somebody else’s territory—proof that whatever the cult might claim, reality would ultimately win out. And now it was three on three.
Amane and Yuuka dropped their mantles as they made their way to the table. The glimmering mecha was replaced by the straight-backed, raven-haired girl with piercing green eyes, wearing a polite smile and a purple sundress; Yuuka’s impractically layered outfit of dark belts and laces was replaced by a slightly more reasonable corset, blouse, and skirt, long bangs shrouding her eye. The five flamebearers exchanged a long series of greetings in Japanese, including stiff bowing from all parties. The conversation sounded friendly enough, or at least polite, though there was a moment where Kimura and Yuuka glared at each other in a way that suggested a lot of history.
Waitstaff appeared around us as the introductions concluded and people took their seats. We flamebearers sat three on three at the head of the table; myself, Amane, and Yuuka facing Kimura, Miyoko and Hongo. To our left, down the remaining twelve seats of the table, was an assortment of both groups’ staff, as well as people who looked like representatives of other organizations involved in the event. Todai’s people and the third parties were fully dressed; Hikanome’s people were not. I was distantly relieved that Yuuka didn’t subscribe to their nudism; Like Miyoko, Amane was slender enough that I could have mostly filtered the exposed breasts from my peripheral vision, but Yuuka would have been intolerably distracting.
“Hey, Ezzen.”
“Hi.”
Amane had her phone out, already typing into her translation app.
How did it go?
“Well enough,” I muttered. “They made me an offer. Not to join, but they have conditions for helping us with the…stuff.” I didn’t particularly want to discuss the details of it in front of them, and the three had said they wouldn’t bring it up again today. “I didn’t realize they’d isolate me. Felt a little ambushed.”
Amane winced.
I was hoping they wouldn’t. You’re alright?
“I’m good.” I was actually pretty proud of how I’d handled myself; no big secrets given away, as far as I could tell.
“Yeah, you’re good,” Yuuka verified. “We told ya they wouldn’t hurt ya, no matter how bad you fucked it up.”
“We would never,” Hongo cut in. “And so far, he’s exceeded expectations when it comes to propriety.”
“Nah, really?”
Hongo winced theatrically. “He must have set a truly awful first impression with you if your prediction was so far off the mark.”
To my surprise, Yuuka laughed. “I mean, he’s fucking Hina, ‘course my expectations were low.”
Amane elbowed her teammate, hard, with her mechanical arm. It didn’t make contact; Yuuka’s hand had already been moving to catch the blow, and Miyoko exhaled a rather unladylike snort at the roughhousing. “He does look somewhat like her, no?”
“Mhm,” Yuuka replied, twisting to flag down a waiter.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked. I certainly didn’t look like Hina—wrong sex, wrong race, wrong height, wrong hair. They must have meant in a more magical sense; was there a connection between Yuuka’s eye and Miyoko’s? Perhaps Miyoko’s too-deep irises were pink- or white-ripple equivalents of Yuuka’s, though they were obviously structurally different. Yuuka’s looked almost prosthetic, like an intrusion or growth, whereas Miyoko’s seemed more supernatural.
“You’ve paid in blood quite a few times for someone blessed only eight days ago,” Hongo pointed out, and I frowned.
“That’s not…”
But it was definitely true at this point. Between my spear, my foot, when I’d struck Hina, and of course last night’s impulsive, full-body epilation, I really did seem to be developing a troubling propensity for blood magic. “My abilities to design complex lattices are much stronger than my practical ability to weave them, for now,” I hedged. “And done carefully, sanguimancy is still safer than fully unbound magic.”
Hongo gestured at me as though presenting me to Yuuka. “See? He can make decent excuses! Though I do take some issue with the idea that glyphcraft is the only way to safely utilize magic, and I contest that you’ve been particularly careful. Removing all the hair from your body the night before an event like this is bold. Some would call it reckless, or pain-seeking.”
I was annoyed and a little alarmed that he’d identified exactly what I’d done, but stood my ground. “It was worth it.”
“Your hair really is beautiful,” Kimura said quietly, sipping from a tall glass of beer. A waiter offered me a slightly different glass which I accepted hesitantly. “I’ve never seen something like it.”
I gave the drink an investigatory sniff and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was ginger ale rather than beer. Amane nudged me. I looked back at her. “What?”
She mouthed something. I frowned, not sure what she meant. Yuuka groaned. “Ezzen, say thank you for the compliment.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I reddened, shrinking into myself, feeling too exposed and unable to hide from Yuuka’s counter-gesture indicating my fuck-up to Hongo. This thin shirt provided no protection, no armor; a hoodie might have been sweltering to wear in the magically adjusted temperate weather, but it would have given some security, helped hide that I didn’t know what to do with my hunched shoulders. The weight of my hair draped over my back helped a little, sort of emulating the feeling of a hood hanging behind my neck, and I tried to focus on that; at least my back was covered.
Should I say something more in response? He’d already complimented my hair earlier; I wasn’t sure why he was bringing it up again. Normally, I’d talk about the interesting magical implications of my possibly cyborg nature, but Hikanome had expressed enough distaste with that topic that I wasn’t sure if it would make me look more like a fool. Better to just say nothing at all?
Amane rescued me by raising her glass and calling down the table. The toast was in Japanese, so I don’t know exactly what was said, but whatever it was, it was cheerful and confident, delivered in her bright, strong voice. Something she said got a laugh from the table, then everybody raised their mugs, and the first plates of food began to hit the table.
“Thanks,” I whispered to Amane as a plate of chicken skewers was placed before me, charcoal-smoky and glazed in soy sauce.
“No problem.”
—
The food was exceptional. The theme was flame-cooking, and sure, that meant skewers and steaks, hot dogs and burgers—but it also meant brick oven pizzas and flatbreads, raclette and octopus all sharing the table. There was an entire row of grills, griddles, and ovens set up parallel to the table, which constantly brought new delicacies and interesting twists on more familiar foods. I crunched down on a piece of duxelles that had been broiled to a crispy, chip-like consistency on extremely hot cast iron and washed it down with ginger ale. The drink was arguably the highlight; it had an intense, spiced edge to it without tasting of alcohol, and it was nice and cool to refresh my palate after eating food that had come off of open flame moments prior.
We didn’t make much conversation for the first few minutes, mostly consumed in the universally human act of savoring really good food. Normal human or flamebearer, we all could take some enjoyment from it. To my right, I was happy to see that Amane was enthusiastically digging in; it would have been a shame if her stomach condition had prevented her from partaking.
Conversation began to resume around the third course. I twirled a fork in my small bowl of assassin’s spaghetti while Amane and Hongo discussed something in Japanese. Foreign policy, if I had to guess; my Japanese was still awful, but I was definitely picking up “America” here and there. Yuuka cut in in English—for my benefit? That didn’t seem like her.
“They keep making offers to Ai. They can’t buy her out, but they’re trying. Nervous about the new patterns we saw last month in Taiwan, feel like they’re losing the arms race with China. ‘s stupid, she’d never help make exos.”
Hongo nodded. “It’s the principle of it. If they offer and she refuses, they have it on paper where she stands. They’re not going to make an offensive in the South China Sea, though, not with the situation with the Spire.”
“Situation?” Yuuka bit down on a slice of mayo pizza, one of the few things on the table I wasn’t willing to try. “It’s the same shit as ever. Vaetna make a clusterfuck in some other country, don’t clean it up properly, the big boys reach for their guns, and then when they’ve fully pivoted to face the Spire, they get stabbed in the back by one of the others.”
Finally, a conversation I actually felt qualified to participate in. I took another swig of ginger ale, then spoke up. “I think that’s uncharitable. Er, to the Vaetna’s interventions.”
“Oh, do ya? Really. ‘Course you would gobble their knobs.”
“They do clean up their messes.”
“Only when the big guys actually get scared and don’t try to escalate, and that’s happening less and less. So more escalation, more messes.”
Here we go. I braced; I’d heard this line of argument before, and it always ended back at Dubai.
“Sometimes—”
“—you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette. Shut the fuck up.”
That earned her another elbow from Amane. Miyoko spoke up, leaning forward as she twirled a chicken skewer in her fingers.
“Ezzen, you believe the Spire’s humanitarian efforts outweigh the consequences of their interventions?”
“Yes.” The response was automatic.
“Why?”
“Because it’s a net good. Toppling petty warlords, clearing droughts, pre-empting superhurricanes and taking point on infernos—those directly save lives! And that’s not even counting the Spire itself; there’s a reason their quality of life is the highest in the world, and it has everything to do with their medicine and hydroponics.”
“Quality of life,” Hongo repeated approvingly. “For the average person. That’s what communities should do.”
“Says the cult leader,” I noted dryly.
“I’m agreeing with you! We believe the same things the Spire does. Magic should be used to create a better world for everyone living in it, not hoarded for one’s own interests.”
I blinked. “Clarify? You think the Vaetna should rule the world?”
“You think they should not?”
I sighed. “That’s—it’s complicated. In a world where the average person knew what was good for them, yeah. In practice…I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m uncomfortable with anybody ruling the world, Vaetna or not. And when it comes to them specifically, so many people don’t trust the Vaetna. For faulty reasons, you know?”
Hongo smiled. “Please go on.”
“Well…alright,” I said, mentally gearing up. “Do you know the story The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas?” I got some nods, but Kimura shook his head. “It’s—almost fifty years old now, so pre-firestorms, pre-Raising, pre-magic. It’s about a utopia that runs on the torture of a single child, basically, and whether that trade-off is worth it. I think we can all see the parallels to the real world these days, yeah?” More nods. “My problem with it is that…well, people assume that any utopia, any place where people are happy, has to have a catch, a dark side. It’s why people accuse the Vaetna of blood magic or ruling the Spire with an iron fist, all that bosh. They refuse to believe that people with that much power can create a society that’s unambiguously good, no catch. And I just think that’s—such a backwards, 20th-century way of looking at the world.”
“I would say the same argument applies to Hikanome.”
I snarled; how could they say that when Amane was sitting literally right here? “What? No, you demonstrably based your success on child slavery—”
“And we destroyed that side of us,” Kimura interrupted. “No more, never again. Now we heal the sick and shelter the homeless without keeping bodies in the basement.”
“And more than that,” Hongo picked up once he swallowed a bite of his overloaded hot dog, “we put our thumb on the scales of policy to end those problems at the source. We fund housing and lobby to keep rent down rather than merely sweeping homeless people out of sight.” He gestured at Yuuka. “Miss Hirai is here today because we are lending our blessings to environmental groups to help reduce pollution. Make no mistake—we could rule Japan if we wanted to, but that is not what we were given these blessings to do. How are we different from the Vaetna, Little Heron?”
“I’m not interested in arguing what you do for your tax write-offs.”
“Fuckin’ oath, ‘Little Heron’, do you not see your hypocrisy here?” Yuuka sneered. “It’s the same shit. And the Vaetna didn’t help me find Amane. Get off your high fuckin’ horse.”
I deflated, looking guiltily at the cyborg girl between us. She was clearly having trouble keeping up with the conversation, but when her name came up, she seemed to understand what it meant. She sighed something at Yuuka, who shook her head angrily.
“It seems to me,” Miyoko said, looking between the three of us, “That you see something divine in the Vaetna, Ezzen. You may not worship them, but you recognize their higher calling.”
“Well—they’re not omnipotent,” I begrudgingly admitted, shamefaced. I had no rebuttal for Yuuka.
“But you wish they were. That is faith.”
“Everyone believes in something,” Kimura added. “You think we are not deserving of the same trust you extend to them, because you believe that they are ordained to do good and we are not.”
I felt I had to push back on that—then my skin crawled. The hair on my neck would have stood on end if I still had any. Instinct had me look straight up, guided by some perception of my Flame. I realized all five other Flamebearers had done the same. Yuuka swore.
“What?” I couldn’t pin down exactly what I was sensing.
Amane pointed, and I saw it. An ultramarine dot was moving across the pale-blue sky, vivid and aglow, brighter each moment. My heart leapt. My phone buzzed, and I scrambled to get it out.
Hina: I FIGURED IT OUT
Ezzen: figured what out?
Hina: the stalker. she’s with hikanome i can smell her somewhere down there with you
My blood ran cold, eyes darting around before they locked on Miyoko. Amane and Yuuka both put fingers to their ears, then a change passed over them. They both tensed, looking at the Hikanome flamebearers with the same suspicion I had, but with warriors’ poise rather than my prey-animal panic.
Ezzen: What do we do? We’re literally sitting across from the leaders right now.
Hina: sit tight cutie
Hina: the girls have your back
“Ezzen,” Yuuka said slowly, injecting casual friendliness into her voice. “Wanna walk around the park? There’s plenty of stuff to do.”
“Y—yeah, that sounds good.”
Ezzen: and you?
Hina: what do you think
Hina: im going hunting
Ezzen: Uh. Maybe this should wait until after?
The blue dot in the sky was getting bigger.
Ezzen: Hina?
“Ah,” breathed Hongo. “I don’t suppose any of you can stop her?”
“Stop her from what?”
“She’s gonna break open the whole white ripple bubble,” Yuuka explained, alarm in her voice. “What the fuck is this—ittatata—fuck!” She clutched the side of her head, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, then whipped around to stare at—Kimura, who had risen to his feet, looking up at the approaching sapphire fireball. She growled. “What the fuck?”
The middle-aged businessman met Yuuka’s eye, then looked at me. Was he—but he couldn’t be, right? I frantically went back to my phone.
Ezzen: DONT
Ezzen: youll amke an inferno. its not worth it, im not in danger
Ezzen: just come down normally and we can talk
Hina: yuuka will get it
Hina: stay safe, love you
The others at the table, the humans, had taken notice, and gasping turned to yelling as it became clear Hina wasn’t going to stop. Hongo and Miyoko were asking Kimura frantic-sounding questions, but he just shook his head. He looked at me one last time, then shattered into glass, splintered fragments that burned away into smoke. Like before.
Certainty took root in my stomach. He’d been the one providing the magic for my stalker, whomever she’d been. That was why Hina was here—but her response was still wildly disproportionate. Why did she seem ready to go to war? I turned to Amane and Yuuka, who were both staring at where Kimura had been. Rage was written on their faces. What was I missing?
“What the fuck is going on?”
Yuuka barked something at Miyoko. The high priestess scowled at the place where Kimura had been, pristine and delicate features twisting with fury.
“Traitor.”
Then the sky split open as Radiance Sapphire cracked Hikanome’s eggshell of false summer.
Comments
Akashic Archivist
Thanks for the chapter!
Ophelia Magos
The optics on this are going to look GREAT. I'm honestly surprised it went as well as it did. I expected Ez to break something irreparably but getting served up a little taste of hypocrisy is interesting. I'm sure the nascent inferno will be seen as completely justified,
