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TO Rewrite: B4 — 14. The Queen’s Gambit
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 22:31:44 +0000 UTC1. Rachel Park (Our Lunar Hare!)
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The Conductor faded.
The world of darkness dissipated.
Life filled the skies with a golden halo.
Then, space kaleidoscoped.
Rachel’s legs trembled, threatening to buckle. Blood still crusted beneath her nose from pushing her breathing technique too hard. Her vision swam at the edges—the new sensation of exhaustion that came from burning through spiritual energy without her Seed’s regulation.
Every breath felt jagged, her framework wobbling like a house without a foundation. Without her Seed’s regulation, she wasn’t building a technique—she was patching leaks with her bare hands.
But she smiled as the copper chimes of Butter’s radiance faded, applause cut through the silence.
Not hers.
Not anyone’s nearby.
A slow, precise clap that bent reality on its third beat. And then…she stepped through with a flourishing bow.
Midnight blue coat pristine. A white Gibson Girl updo, arranged with mathematical precision. A small top hat floating above her head like a crown that gravity had forgotten about.
“Rachel!” Kid Nia gasped, tightening around her frame. “I’ll do the huff and puff—”
Don’t bother. It’s already over. I can feel it in the threads, Nia. Every exit’s already stitched shut thanks to…that man, she noted, staring at the blond man in glasses floating nearby.
One moment, she stood in the ruins of Mudhaven, watching Butter get wrapped in theatrical sheets. In the next moment, reality folded like origami in the hands of a mad god, and she was tilting back, hair flowing in free fall as every person was yanked—not into darkness, but into seams, like dolls slipping into the lining of a magician’s endless coat.
“Oh! That’s actually quite impressive—”
Her ears tracked it all—Adoncia’s frustrated roar cutting off mid-syllable, Maria’s prayer fragmenting into echoes, Grace’s surprised whoop dopplering away.
Breath, Nia.
“B-But Butter is getting kidnapped! And I’m just…so tired all of a sudden. Major, what’s happening? Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know…panicking? Fighting? Something?!”
Her hands found her pockets, the world flitting between fractured chaos and intense colors. She spotted mirror images all around her, some sort of Frankensteinian family engaging Scarlet, Conquest, and Wakalapi. Alexa floated in space, shining and looking scared as Maria’s horn flared, creating a dome around the townsfolk, isolating them.
Rachel’s gaze lifted as they plunged into liquid that enveloped her with a numb chill.
And tear open my framework further? Little Bun, every breath is a crack already. Forcing it now would only shatter me. Butter isn’t powerless, Little Bun. This is all a performance. Sit back and enjoy it. We’ll be pulled into the flow once the main act is done.
“But we’re losing—eh?! We leveled?!”
[Level Up - Level 21]
[1 Stat Point Added; 1 Available]
[2 Equipable Feat Choice Available]
[Level Up - Level 22]
[1 Stat Point Added; 2 Available]
[1 Feat Extension Added; 1 Available]
[1 Equipable Feat Choice Added; 3 Available]
[Nia Null Crescent Grade Increase - Grade II Achieved]
[1 Synchro Point Added; 1 Available]
[1 Style Points Added; 1 Available]
[100 New Inventory Slots Added; 252 Available]
“Oh. My. Gosh! One hundred inventory slots?! Why does it feel like I’m so…fat? Blah! But it feels good. Too good. Like stuffing yourself before you realize your stomach’s tearing.”
“And you’re both smiling now,” Nike observed, her harmonic voice carrying amusement. “You see, little one, this isn’t a loss. Your souls are expanding without the Seed’s support. Had the weight not been divided with Butter, your souls would have ruptured like eggs in boiling water.”
“Yikes!”
The clap of her heels echoed louder than Maria’s broken prayer, more deafening than Adoncia’s roar. The water around them parted, leaving her staring up at the gaping abyss of a magician’s hat, wide enough to swallow a theater whole.
“Welcome to the show!”
It looks like it’s about time for our part.
“I’m scared! Nike!”
“Come here, little one, I’ll hold you.”
A bright glow illuminated within, and Rachel’s tail swayed lazily as a speck of color in the voice expanded. In the next instant, she was flipped upside down, or maybe it was right-side up, and her feet found purchase on what had been the sky moments ago.
In fragments of reality, she saw every member of their group, watching in wide-eyed disbelief as Butter, that carefree, smiling former goddess, allowed a sheet to envelop her.
Her parting words, complete with a sun-like smile?
“I love a front row seat!”
The misfortune threads that usually writhed around her like hungry snakes were gone.
Not weakened. Not distant.
Gone.
Every one of them wrapped around Butter with the same finality she sensed in Nungal’s descent.
“Victory dressed as failure. Classic theater,” Nike mused as the blonde vanished with the fading cloth. “Don’t pout, Little Soldier—this is just the intermission. Tell me, what do you see, Rachel?”
I see fire burning desperately.
The world settled into its new configuration—a three-dimensional chessboard where pieces moved on their own—and a knight knocked over a queen.
Playing cards the size of buildings floated past. Rabbits hopped through walls that existed only when viewed from certain angles. Top hats drifted by, occasionally producing doves that flew backward through time.
Chessboard, cards, rabbits…illusions, but layered illusions. Each one has weight, each one hides the strings. The problem isn’t the stage—it’s that she’s writing the rules mid-performance with that red jewel at her throat.
And standing in place of a white pawn, Adoncia fell to her knees, maid’s skirt falling around her legs as she stared up in shock at where her High Queen had been.
When shadows fall and darkness calls…the trap is sprung, and silence swallows the cast.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
Rachel’s gaze lifted to find a woman descending an invisible staircase, each step accompanied by a subtle flourish. A simple snap of her finger caused the square under the oni maid to fall, leaving the young woman to fall with broken wings.
A pawn, loyal to her queen…yet pawns were meant to fall first.
Hands still held loosely in her shorts’ pockets, Rachel watched the stage performer make her final twirl before floating in front of her with a slight tilt of her hat, above her head, as if gravity had given up trying to catch it.
“I wouldn’t count Adoncia out that easily, lady. You’re one for the dramatic flair, I see.”
“Flair?” the magician echoed, eyes glinting like stage lights catching glass. “Darling, flair is survival. Subtlety is wasted on the deaf, and tragedy without spectacle is just…silence.
“No. I am merely the architect of impossibility,” the woman continued, one gloved hand trailing along a banister that materialized only when touched. “I do so love the aesthetic of controlled chaos.”
“Mmm.” Rachel kept her posture lax, hiding how they trembled slightly from exhaustion while keeping track of the fights happening in mirrors of reality—or that was what she wanted her to believe. “It’s a nice parlor trick. I’ll admit. True chaos isn’t so easy to control in my experience.”
The woman’s laugh tinkled like breaking champagne flutes. “Parlor trick? My dear, you wound me. This is artistry. An illusion that compels belief is no illusion at all. Tell me—when the audience weeps, is it for shadows or truth? What is the difference, but in the mind’s eye?”
She reached the same plane as Rachel, though ‘same plane’ was relative when the floor kept shifting between marble, clouds, and theatrical stages.
“But where are my manners?” The woman performed a perfect curtsy that somehow looked natural, despite being executed sideways. “I am Queen. But you may call me Queenie, as friends—Queen of Magic, if we’re being formal. Pick your poison,” she cooed with a sweet smile.
Rachel’s ears perked forward with genuine interest. “Adelaide.”
Queenie’s perfectly painted lips twitched. Just slightly.
“Oh, you know my stage name—Adelaide Herrmann, at your service. I had no idea you were such a—”
“I’m not.” Rachel pointed above at the blond man, engaging with Scarlet on somewhat equal grounds with his unusual science. “Your buddy just said your name earlier. I’ve got big ears that cut past a lot of supernatural BS.”
“Mmm.” The Legend’s mouth curved down for the first time. “Well, how delightful. Sometimes the magician’s tricks are uncovered in the most…frustrating ways. Scientists… they drag wonders into jars, weigh them, dissect them, strip them of mystery.”
She summoned a cane that looked a lot like Butters, twisting it around before slapping its point against the air. The stage lights cracked; the scene itself splintered like cheap glass scenery.
“Men like him call it progress… I call it vandalism. Boring… Predictable. But paired with a magician? Oh, darling…the impossible becomes the inevitable!”
“Whoa… Rach, this lady really is magic!” Nia choked, getting drawn into it like the little girl she was. “I want to pull a Butter out of a hat!”
Rachel’s ears flicked. That was a problem—Adelaide didn’t seem to just bend reality with the little red stone glowing around her throat. She appeared to make people who were easily swayed want to applaud.
I’ll put magic lessons on the calendar.
“You’re making fun of me…”
No. Never.
“Let me guess,” Rachel let out a small laugh that turned into a cough—exhaustion catching up. “The little girl, growing up on Broadway, green with envy for the greats, but you couldn’t make it until you’ve got a new card up your sleeve…actual magic.”
“Ooh! Impugning my craft was trash without outside influence? Quite the heckler we have on stage today, ladies and gentlemen! Every theater needs one—a voice to prove the play is real. Without them, we’d all just be clapping at smoke.”
Rachel’s ears flicked. That was the real trick. She wasn’t just mocking her—she was scripting her, even her defiance, into the show. This was her stage, though, and she only needed to keep the play going until she discovered her next point of attack.
They began walking through the impossible space, Queenie’s heels clicking on surfaces that changed from marble to glass to theater stages with each step.
She’s trying to disorient me.
“It’s working… I’m going to throw up,” Nia choked, squirming against Rachel’s skin.
Hang in there.
“What’s your goal here, magic lady? You’ve got your prize already. Every second risks me or Scarlet shutting down your whole performance. Tell me, why shouldn’t I?”
Her eclipse eyes drifted to the woman, and she actually saw a lump form in her throat that she swiftly swallowed—performance or not was yet to be seen.
“No need to jump off the stage! The greatest magic,” Queenie stated, gesturing as a tea service materialized on a table that definitely hadn’t been there before, “is making people choose to believe and be a part of the fun. We both know that what I just did was actually in your best interest.”
“What? Major, what is she talking about? She kidnapped Butter!”
Shhh… This is a scene in the drama, Nia, but every story has its tells, even those with deception woven into the narrative. You just need to pay attention to the details.
She poured tea that flowed upward into cups, filling them from the top down.
“Sugar? Though I suppose you’ve had quite enough sweetness with our divine friend.”
Movement caught Rachel’s peripheral vision. Another figure materialized from a mirror that hadn’t existed until it did—dark hair, regal bearing, holding something that made Rachel’s ears fold forward, vision narrowing.
I was right…
“Snow!” Nia shrieked. “Rachel, they got Snow White! How? When? Is Green okay?”
Rachel let Nike soothe the quivering bun, Nia unsure if she should materialize and launch a flying kick into the magician’s face or cry.
She could already see the kid sparkling into existence—only to roundhouse kick a mirror-image of herself, strings on her limbs like a marionette while the magician smiled and pulled tighter.
Rachel maintained her focus, though.
Snow White floated, glassy and still, encased in a sphere of mirror-light that pulsed like a held breath. Adelaide studied her not as a captive, but as a canvas, eyes glinting as if she were already imagining the next brush stroke.
“So, you’re the benefactor keeping Fable villains on life support outside their stories. Let me guess—the Evil Queen herself? Or just a knockoff running her script?”
At the title “Evil Queen,” Adelaide’s smile sharpened, the tilt of her head too perfect, like a bow before applause. Yet, the dark-haired woman’s chin lifted, thorns of pride wrapped around her voice.
“Evil… Roses do not know when they are dead. They cling to beauty even as the rot takes root. It is your precious heroine who is truly withered, treacherous thing that she is. I do not need to stay and be subject to baseless accusations. Everything has proceeded smoothly. It is done.”
“Excellent, Regina, then we—”
“Should continue this play,” Rachel cut in, causing a spark of joyful curiosity to lift the stagewoman’s lips as she addressed the Evil Queen of Snow White.
Rachel's legs trembled, threatening to give out as she tried to shift her weight. She caught herself against what felt like a wall but was actually the underside of a staircase that existed only when she touched it. The movement was subtle, but Adelaide’s eyes tracked it with the satisfaction of a director watching an actor hit their mark.
“Struggling already, little rabbit?” Adelaide's voice carried that particular theatrical concern that was all performance. “I was about to conclude this little meeting, but…your friends seem to be having fun. Are you positive you want to continue on to the second act?”
Rachel forced her spine straight, though she could feel warm blood trickling from her nose again. Every breath scraped like sandpaper. Her ribs ached with every breath, her chest heavy as if someone had cinched a corset made of chains—but her voice stayed flat.
“Just finding my stage legs.”
“Of course you are.” Adelaide waved her hand, and suddenly Rachel was sitting in a plush theater chair that materialized beneath her—except the chair was sideways on a wall, and gravity couldn’t decide which way to pull. Rachel’s stomach lurched, but she kept her expression neutral—this was all an illusion, bypassing most of her defenses due to the Seed’s seal.
“Better?” Queenie asked sweetly.
“Peachy.” Rachel’s tail twitched—the only sign of her disorientation. “Though I prefer floor seats to wall seats.”
Nike’s voice whispered through their bond, barely audible through the chaotic static of her imbalanced soul. “I still sense your victory here.”
Did you doubt me?
“Of course not! Just keeping you on your toes.”
Through the fragmented mirrors floating past, Rachel caught glimpses of her team—Maria struggling to maintain her purification barrier, Alexa trying to support her. Grace and Wakalapi back-to-back, fighting off the monstrous husband. Adoncia battled the undead son. The wife and Conquest were nowhere to be seen now.
Yet, Scarlet was gaining ground against the blond man with glasses, actually showing some real spirit and flair of her own.
It’s worth keeping this going just for her… Plus, we need to refine our souls by fire.
She turned back to the pair.
Regina’s chin lifted higher, and Rachel noticed how her fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the mirror containing Snow White—not possessively, but almost tenderly, before catching herself with a spiteful twist of her nose.
“The truth, or are you stalling?” she pressed.
“Truth?” Regina’s laugh was bitter beauty. “Truth is what the victors write in their little books. They called me Evil Queen, but tell me—what is evil about refusing to disappear…about being labeled evil before performing an evil act? Judged before action is taken.”
“What’s the point of this, Major? They’re the bad guys! Even if…they’re kind of cool. I want to do magic!”
Your mind is everywhere when you’re scared… The point of all this will be clear when we’re done. Sometimes you punch. Sometimes you dig for answers…then you punch.
“Nice! I like kicking better. I need to lift more bags of clothes…”
Taking a deep breath, Rachel performed her grandfather’s exercises, not in channeling, but in cultivating and restoration. Her internal system was weak, like a machine doing all the heavy lifting for her. Nia was right. She needed to bulk up with the basics.
“I’m listening, but I’m not clapping until I hear something real.”
“Oh, I’ll make the scene!” the magician chimed. “I did not expect this kind of audience engagement, Rachel. Go on! Go on!”
“What are you planning, Major?”
Shhh. We can’t fight right now. You feel it, right? We’re still sealed.
Nia’s voice cracked as golden static fizzed against their frame. “Oh no! Major! Major—it’s like trying to breathe with a pillow on my face! Major—what if I pop?!”
You’re fine. Nia, stop being dramatic. We’re in the middle of a real play. Try not to upstage the Queen.
“Aww…”
“This isn’t a game or story for you to sneer at,” Regina snarled with a bitter twist to her nose, and not just at her but her savior. “I was fifteen when I married Snow’s father. Fifteen, with dreams of my own, forced into a role—stepmother to a girl barely younger than myself. Expected to be the picture of perfection and fashion. But I played it perfectly. Every line, every scene, exactly as scripted.”
Adelaide conjured a mirror behind Regina, and in it, Rachel saw flashes—a young woman in a wedding dress that was flawless, crafted by her own hand with weeks of careful preparation. A child with skin white as snow watched from behind a door, a king who looked through his new queen like she was furniture.
Rachel’s gaze narrowed. Green never mentioned how young White was… A long time passed in Ali Baba’s realm—far longer than our timeline. So, White was only fourteen or fifteen, not two months ago. Groomed by Adele, fulfilled her role, and exited a queen… Interesting. That changes a lot of things, perspective-wise.
At least, from Regina’s point of view. Maybe much of that was a dream, and Snow entered as an adult to fill in the imaginary role Regina was fed as a fictitious world, centered around Snow herself. Despite knowing so much about Fable Seeds, there is still so much left unanswered.
“Ahh! A confession scene!” Adelaide cooed, her smile as wide as the stage itself. “See how truth drips sweeter when dressed in tragedy?”
“I would appreciate candor without the commentary,” the dark-haired woman mumbled.
“Of course, allow me to slip into the background and apply seamstress!”
“…Twenty years I played that role,” Regina mumbled. “Twenty years of ‘Yes, my king’ and ‘Of course, dear’ and watching him look at his daughter like she hung the moon while I was just…there. The fairest, the one who worked herself to the bone to make up for his shortcomings in ruling. The beautiful decoration…perfect in every way but the one that mattered the most…and that I had no control over. I could produce no heir.”
“Because you couldn’t,” Rachel said quietly, her tactical mind assembling pieces—fiction or not, it was true to her. And this was how fable villains were made. “That’s why he really started hating you.”
Regina’s eyes flashed—pain and rage so perfectly balanced they could have been choreographed.
“The Mirror told me.” She laughed, sharp as glass. “My precious Mirror that showed only truth. Barren. Useless. A queen without purpose… On my thirty-fifth birthday, do you know what Snow White said when she found out? When she became of age and my precious Mirror told me I was no longer the fairest? Not because of beauty, talent, love…but because of purpose. I taught her everything I knew. And she…”
Rachel waited, feeling the healing breaths soothing her spiritual exhaustion.
“She pitied me.” Regina’s voice cracked like ice. “This child, this perfect princess everyone loved, looked at me with those innocent eyes and said, ‘I’m sorry, Stepmother. At least you have me.’ Yes. The girl who was my inferior in every way—magic, goodness to the people, rulership, and yes, even beauty, though it was waning… I could not produce the fairest thing of all. Life.”
“Ouch,” Nia whispered in Rachel's mind. “That’s…that’s actually worse than being mean.”
“Oh, my sweet bunny,” Nike sighed, “it is worse than that.”
I think I understand, Rachel whispered internally. That point of pity wasn’t Snow White. Not the one we know… Everything she’s talking about happened before the ‘real’ Snow ever stepped foot in her realm. Just after that confession, that was the point where the ‘real’ Snow took over the fairytale, but the poisoned seed was already planted in Regina’s heart.
“That’s not when you snapped,” Rachel said, understanding flooding through her despite the way the world kept trying to tilt. “From what you said, you didn’t snap. Not from jealousy about beauty, or from being patronized by a child who had everything you’d never have.”
“No. The Mirror showed me the truth,” Regina continued, her hand pressing against the glass holding Snow. “That she would have everything—kingdom, love, children, adoration—while I would be thrown out of the castle like garbage, after everything I did for the people and for her. A footnote in her story. The obstacle she overcame…”
Adelaide laughed, delighted. “Oh, the dramatic irony! Tell her the best part, Regina dear.”
Regina’s smile was poison and roses. “And I ignored it… And I tried to change that fate. Find a magic that would cure my…problem. Snow offered to help me. It was as if she had bloomed into the very woman I was supposed to fear, only she recoiled at her father’s licentious acts in the shadows… She accepted me…was my first real support…”
A tear slid down her cheek. “Six weeks of the happiest days of my life… It was as if I had a daughter, a real daughter… Then, when I taught her how to use the Mirror, I was suddenly shoved into an alien, barren world… The Arabian Desert, Snow, my beautiful daughter, leering down at my pitiful state as all my strength left me. And then…I was abandoned.”
“I’m crying!” Nia bawled. “Snow can’t be that evil! She just wanted to be loved!”
Rachel’s brow furrowed, looking up at the blond as he laughed, actually instructing Scarlet on her faults. “…What about the prince?”
“Prince? What prince are you speaking of?” Regina scoffed. “The obvious boy in the Happily Ever-After Kingdom? Snow didn’t pay him two glances, despite my urges… She told me love could wait…for my happiness. If I have a heart, why is it so cold? So you tell me, who is the villainess?” the Evil Queen demanded pain marring her gaze.
Rachel felt her mind spinning—not from the disorientation Adelaide kept inflicting, but from where this had led. “There’s always two sides to every story… I’m sure you’re waiting to get yours from Snow herself. If what you say is true…I do hope you find closure.”
Adelaide applauded softly. “Beautiful performance, darling. But speaking of closure, we are running onto the third act…”
She snapped her fingers.
The mirrors around them suddenly showed Butter, wrapped in chains and still smiling as Frank’s wife dragged Conquest and her toward a swirling portal.
“Your divine friend seems remarkably calm for someone being kidnapped,” Queenie observed. “Almost like she expected this. Planned for it, even. She is such an odd thing. I love it!”
Rachel’s cracked lips curved into a smile. “Honestly, I think she didn’t plan it at all but sees it as a big adventure. Of course, maybe that’s because you’re both reading from the same script. She does have this…instinct about her I’ve noticed that is almost…heaven-sent.”
Adelaide’s perfect composure cracked—just for a millisecond. “Whatever do you mean? Is this a misfortunate play to tighten a noose around my pretty little neck?”
“Well, think about it. You’re a magician. You know, misdirection.” Rachel had to pause her speech to maintain the breathing technique. “…The Conductor wasn’t the show. Butter defeating him wasn’t the climax. This—right here—this is what she wanted. To be surprised.”
“That is a rather frightening observation…” Regina huffed.
“Butter is a frightening enemy,” Rachel corrected, her voice getting stronger with her restoring soul. “She lives for conquest and challenges… And you just gave her one she couldn’t learn any other way. The challenge of being truly powerless. She’s eating this up.”
Through the misfortune threads, she felt Butter’s delight pulse stronger, and the former goddess’ symphony at the jailhouse rang within her, and she spoke it aloud:
“There is always hope in the symphony. When it’s so hard to see the harmony, it’s time to stop the choir and change the key. Bring their fanfare to its knees. Amplify or die; it’s us or them, screaming a war-torn requiem:
“This is our war-torn requiem.”
“Be. Not. Afraid.”
Queenie's smile could have powered Vegas, even as she gulped. “Wow. Now that is a show stopper. Even if that’s true, she’s still captured. You are a master in disruption and omens. It really fits your name!”
“More than just a name,” Rachel grinned, “but I save that for future conversations with opponents.”
“Brava.” Queenie applauded silently as Regina sank back, seemingly lost in Snow’s reflection. “Though I notice you’re not trying to stop me. I thought we’d need to have a conversation about the reality of things, but you…always surprise!”
“Stop you from what? This is already done.” Rachel gestured at the warped reality around them. “Besides, I’m curious how you got Frank to work with you. He’s not exactly the type to work with a…performer. You are probably a part of his experiment. But I figured you’d make an appearance, so why fight what I know will be in my benefit?”
“Benefit?” The Evil Queen whispered, voice like poisoned honey as she turned suspicious eyes on her. “You knew we were coming?”
“Suspected.” Rachel’s tail swished weakly. “Green’s paranoia, White's timing, the executive votes, and other details that link together—too many coincidences.”
Queenie laughed with genuine delight. “Oh, don’t hold out on me. It was your misfortune sense. No wonder she finds you interesting.”
“She?”
“Our mutual acquaintance.” Adelaide waved dismissively, leading them through a doorway that opened onto a mirror library. “But let's discuss what matters. I’ve done you a favor—you admitted it yourself! Conquest is contained; your Montana crisis needs attention. We’re on the same team. Isn’t Regina’s life tragic?!"
Rachel smirked, hands back in her pockets. “No. You just don’t want to overextend yourself. Yeah, I’m a tough cookie to swallow—and you’d choke on the crumbs. Add Butter to that? Yeah, you’re too smart for that.”
“Perhaps.” They emerged onto a platform overlooking the fractured town, the magician skipping ahead while holding her elbow behind her back. “But truly, I have no interest in confronting a Lunar Hare who killed a lesser god, has a deity of victory buried inside her soul, and has a track record of ruin in her wake that a Princess of Hell could respect.”
“That’s why you went to all this trouble? Fear of coordination between Butter and me?”
Silence stretched.
“Less of that and more that you’d fall under her influence. Tell me,” Queenie finally asked, twisting around with a small smile now, “who do you serve? Is it a former goddess, addicted to adoration and conquest?”
Rachel’s tail went stiff as a board, her smile becoming forced as Nia hissed.
“She’s pushing the nuke button, Nike! Get water, lots of water—ice—stay cool, Major!”
“Attacking my pride…” She trailed off with a short laugh. “You know I do whatever I want. And you’re a lover of drama. I won’t give you the ending act.”
Adelaide leaned close, her lips dripping poison, whispering: “A rabbit who chases two hares catches neither. But a hare who knows which warren leads home…might find what she’s looking for behind the mirror.”
She pulled out a sheet containing galaxies. “Our business is concluded. I bid thee, adieu!”
The sheet rose and landed over them both.
“Until we meet again.”
The world shattered.
Rachel landed hard in Mudhaven’s ruins, dropping to one knee. The others materialized around her—Maria crossing herself, Alexa’s wings bent, Scarlet’s blood defensive.
A signpost crashed down, making the townsfolk jump, caught in a daze.
“Well,” Grace dusted off her hat and reached down to pick up a black, shadowy revolver on the ground, likely in the collapse of the Conductor’s realm, many more items were scattered around the town, “we beat the quest! That’s worth a drink. I’m bleedin’ levels, too. Downside—the High Queen got kidnapped. Is that a downside? Is it good the golden Barbie doll is out of our hair?”
Adoncia bristled defensively, backing away and raising her club, her whole body trembling as if she were freezing. “Are you… You planned this betrayal?”
“Of course not.” Rachel wiped blood from her nose with a short huff. “This isn’t a loss or betrayal. We won. This is just the bonus level, Ms. Maid.”
Maria’s healing calmed immediately, sweating profusely. “You’re spiritually destroying yourself, chica! Aaaah!” She screamed and started pulling on her head, no doubt speaking colorful words in Spanish.
Wakalapi rubbed his bleeding and dislocated shoulder, using the totem to pop it back into place. “What an unusual turn this has taken… Omen lives up to its name. Betrayal is impossible, Adoncia.” He pointed at his own chest, cut and bruised. “The divine seal Butter placed on us ensures it. It is still active.”
Rachel rolled around her neck and started stretching out with a big grin. “Our Seeds are locked—Butter had to punch past Alexa’s power to unseal her—it’s not a constant feed but a tied bow. Only Butter can release it… She’s playing the damsel.”
Adoncia stilled herself, looking dizzy as Alexa rushed in to support her.
“Playing? Dammit. No, she let herself be captured! There is no way she did not… The Empress is going to string her up, strip her naked, and lash her a thousand times! We have to rescue her… Without the High Queen, I fear Earth is doomed. I still have family here!”
“Where, chica?” Maria finally growled, kicking a piece of broken wood and cursing again. “What were you doin’, Rach? It looked like you were havin’ a cozy chat!”
Rachel’s smile showed teeth. “C’mon, Maria, you know me. Where are we going? Snow White’s Fable. That’s where they are.”
Grace whistled. “Another Fable Seed? Without our Seeds? Bold. Hope this one doesn’t implode.”
“Trial by fire, ladies and gentlemen. We have what Butter taught us.” Rachel forced herself to stand, having Nia take out her phone from storage; it appeared in her hand, flipping it around her palm. “We report to HQ first. We only have a few days to figure this out, but if we handle this my way…it’ll be easy.”
“Which is?” Alexa asked with dread as Grace opened the way back.
Her misfortune threads reached in one direction, following Butter’s trail like breadcrumbs. This would solidify Butter’s support for Earth. No more ‘just interested’ but truly be on the same team.
“We walk into their trap so hard it breaks.”
The copper wind chime sang once in the desert wind.
The show’s second act had begun.
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