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TO Rewrite: B3 — 15. A Misty Key
🕑 Added 2024-10-22 23:23:12 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Rachel Park (Our Lunar Hare!)
2. Soldier?
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Rachel’s bare feet left faint imprints in the mix of snow and ash as she landed on the deck of the Mexican airship, her hammer resting against her left shoulder. The howling storm swirled around her as she straightened, her illuminated, eclipse-like eyes lifting to sweep the deck.
Her braid billowed behind her, her sports bra and shorts dusted with snow, as she silently assessed the chaotic scene around her—crew members shouting orders in Spanish, their movements panicked but methodical, flitting between their stations.
The airship’s sleek hull, once a gleaming symbol of Aztec artistry, was now dulled by frost and ash. Ornate designs etched into the metal flickered beneath a semi-active, struggling force field, casting eerie shadows in the snowstorm; certain systems were still in flux, causing loose parts of the ship to rattle in the icy wind, and the wooden stairs leading to the navigation quarters were slick and treacherous with ice.
Rachel’s breath fogged in the cold, but the chill didn’t faze her. Her body was a furnace of suppressed energy, the residue of the Greater Moon of Abundance in her system still resonating in her core, fueling her resolve.
It starts to get annoying when all your enemies are hiding. I guess I need to sniff them out… Where are you at, bitch? Sneaking off when I wasn’t listening. If this is how you want it, fine. I don’t feel like dancing to strings, though. I might kill him just for fun at this point.
Fighting the manic feelings welling up within her, she followed her ears to the left. Through the swirling haze of snow, she spotted him: the man who Scarlet had been following.
So many snakes, trying to lead me by the nose. Well, I’m not playing.
The tall man stood by the railing, his coat flapping in the wind, nervously fiddling with his camera while staring off in the direction where her brother laid. He snapped picture after picture, his gloved hands shaking slightly, either from the cold or the tension.
His wide, New York-accented voice cut through the storm as another engineer stood nearby. “What was that inferno?! I’ve never seen that type of supernatural magic—oh?”
He paused, and noticed her approach and snapped a picture.
Rachel didn’t slow her pace as she neared him, thick flakes falling around her. The crew barely noticed her, too caught up in their frantic attempts to stabilize the ship’s recent power troubles.
“Well, if it isn’t the Omen CEO! I…”
“Legend of William H. Mumler?” Rachel’s voice cut through the wind and his greeting like a blade, calm yet carrying the weight of command.
He almost dropped his camera. “Yeah, yeah… How did you know my Legend? What’s this about?” William blinked, a nervous smile pulled at his lips. “Are you mad I took those photos? I just wanted to see the unique forces around you! I didn’t mean anything about it.”
Tone cold steel, her sharp gaze flicked toward the captain’s quarters, and she turned on her heel to walk toward the stairs leading up to the navigation room. “A lie but I’ll let it slide for now… Follow me.”
William fixated on her hammer and hesitated, his chuckle betraying his unease. “Right… I do need to make a living. Umm. What do you need me for?” He clutched his camera tighter as he jogged after her.
Ignoring the photographer for now since she only needed him for one thing, she kept her focus ahead. The stairs were half-obscured by the worsening snowstorm, and the glowing hammer she carried pulsed with energy. She could feel the tension in the air growing, the fear of the ship falling out of the sky hot on the engineers’ minds.
However, Rachel was tired—so tired—of chasing shadows, tired of being manipulated by people. Gripping the threads of fate, she tugged hard.
Twilight’s manipulations were bad enough. Mom gaslighting me… Astra. This time, I’m getting answers. One way…or another. They want to rattle the cage? Then don’t be scared when something breaks out.
Her steps toward the captain’s quarters were measured, her hammer’s hum pulling men and women’s confused eyes as she swung it off her shoulder. Reaching the stairs, she tightened her grip and slammed the hammer against the wooden wall. The force field flashed blue and red. Another slam, the points biting into the wood, sending a tremor through the interior.
The ship creaked under the weight of the storm and her blows, its force field flickering in and out of existence. Snow swirled around her like a living entity, William snapping pictures of her as she moved, trailing behind her, his gaze darting between her and the chaotic crew, now stopping to watch her.
Rachel’s eyes were locked on the door above the captain’s quarters as it swung open, a giant of a luchador exiting with a furrowed brow. She gripped her hammer tighter after delivering a more powerful blow upon reaching the navigation room’s door, feeling the heat of its kinetic energy build in her hands, her body vibrating to let loose.
“¡¿Qué diablos nos está pasando?! Aye—”
Without hesitation, in full view of the man, she gripped it with both hands and with all her strength, slammed the hammer against the door, snatching his attention.
The ship’s flickering force field field strengthened, yet it still sent a reverberating shockwave through the airship, dispersing the force through its metal bones. Drawing her weapon back again, the second blow pierced through the barrier, fracturing the wooden door with a resounding crack. Splinters flew into the storm, the door shattering under the force of her strike.
As the door blew inward, the man jumped the full way down to loom over her: the Legend of Enrique Ugartechea, standing shirtless and grinning from beneath a wrestling mask.
“What is this?” he asked, grinning beneath his mask. “You looking for a fight, conejito lunar?” His muscles rippled in the cold, eyes gleaming with the thrill of battle.
Rachel’s expression remained unchanged. The wind howled, whipping icy tendrils of snow around the towering figure of Enrique Ugartechea. His muscled frame barely swayed by the storm as he stood between her and the open door, movement and shouts coming from inside.
“You’ve got some nerve,” he sneered, voice dripping with arrogance.
Rachel’s glowing eyes remained fixed on the navigation room ahead. She didn’t flinch at his mocking tone, her grip on the hammer tightening.
“I don’t have time for this…” she whispered.
Enrique chuckled, stepping forward and into her space, flexing his impressive muscles. “Scared? You sure you want to pick this fight when so small, little bun?”
Her gaze lifted to meet his, struggling to see red. Her lips barely moved, but her voice carried through the storm with icy calm. “Don’t play games with your life. Move, or I’ll move you.”
His booming laugh was almost lost in the roar of the escalating storm. “Let’s see if you can back that up. Go ahead, make the first move.”
Without hesitation, Rachel’s hammer vanished in a flash of moonlight, drawing a confused snort from the man towering over her. He didn’t have time to react. Her form shimmered, disappearing from her spot in front of him with a flash of lunar light.
[Lunar Grace: Activated]
Rachel reappeared behind him. In one swift motion, she grabbed his waistband and launched him over the edge of the ship, leaving the crew frozen in shock.
The air seemed to rush in on itself as Enrique disappeared into the swirling snow below, his startled cry lost in the storm. For a brief moment, silence hung over the deck, punctuated only by the howl of the blizzard and the faint thud of her bare feet.
William, staying on his toes, snapped a few pictures to capture the moment as she moved over the wooden debris, hammer reappearing in her hand as she faced the stunned room. His hands shook slightly from the intensity of the moment.
“That…was something. You’re on a warpath.”
Rachel didn’t respond, her focus entirely on the navigation quarters ahead. But just as she locked onto her target, a new figure stepped into her path: the Legend of El Santo, from the whispers among the engineers.
“Wait,” a man said in the back, making El Santo pause. “Let’s not escalate things.”
Again… This one won’t be so easy, though, and I have to push if I’m going to force them out of the shadows, she grumbled to herself, looking up at the large figure stepping up to her; [Bestial Instincts] sent a cautionary pulse through her. He’s smaller than Enrique…but with a lot more power.
Unlike Enrique, this man radiated calm, noble strength. His iconic white mask and disciplined stance made it clear he wasn’t here for games.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise? You’re powerful, Omen’s hare,” he said, voice steady, carrying none of Enrique’s arrogance. “But you’re also reckless. What is it you seek here, with such force?”
Rachel’s grip on her hammer tightened. He’s more on Green’s level…possibly a tad stronger. It won’t be easy to get rid of him if I use force.
Her breath fogged in the cold air that rushed in as she sized him up; she wouldn’t need to fight now that she made it inside, William hovering nearby, snapping photos.
Rachel’s feet shifted slightly to find better footing in case she needed it, the howling wind buffeting her bare arms. Snow swirled in thick, blinding gusts that entered the cabin, carrying the faint scent of machinery mixed with something more.
An underlying current of fear rippling through the crew or caution from the Legends surrounding her target: Rafael Ortega, the commander of the ship.
If El Santo wasn’t enough, Enrique used some kind of conjured rope ability to launch himself back onto the flying vessel. He landed behind her with a heavy crash and she could feel the steam rising from his massive frame as he recovered from being tossed into the white.
He snarled, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in movements, a hint that he wasn’t so sure about charging at her again. But before he could act, the air nearby shimmered, swirling in an unnatural way. A crimson portal tore open, and from the swirling vortex of blood jumped Scarlet.
Right on time, Rachel thought, keeping El Santo in her sight.
Scarlet’s heels clicked softly against the deck, her glowing blood twisting around her. The crew immediately tensed at her otherworldly aura. Her eyes lingered briefly on Enrique before turning to Rachel.
“These guys do it, Rachel?” Scarlet muttered, an edge to her voice, a quiet readiness for violence beneath the surface.
Rachel shook her head, still focused entirely on the man in front of her, and Scarlet wasn’t alone. As the vampire stepped closer to enter the confrontation zone, the portal behind her shimmered again, and Grace emerged, stepping through with an almost casual swagger.
Her hand rested lightly on the handle of her revolver, her blue eyes sharp beneath the brim of her cowboy hat as she swept the scene.
“Helluva night for a showdown, huh?” the brunette muttered, her breath fogging in the cold air. She cast a quick glance at Enrique, then Rafael, then back to Rachel. She had a half-smile on her face, but it was tight with tension. “What’s the play, boss?”
She shifted her weight, ready to draw her gun at the first sign of trouble. Rachel had to acknowledge the decision to instantly follow her lead; the girl had trust in her, which went a long way in her book.
“Feels like somethin’s about to pop off,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else, her focus flicking to Scarlet. The blood portal still rippled faintly behind them, casting a reddish glow over the deck. “These bastards that took shots at your fam?”
“Attacked your family?” El Santo whispered, flexing his fingers and calmly waiting for someone to make a move. “Clearly we need to discuss this. Sinor, Rafael?”
The tension on the deck escalated as more crew members began to gather, their eyes wide and wary, weapons at the ready. Some murmured in Spanish, clearly unnerved by the sight of Scarlet’s floating blood and her unrelenting stance. Rachel only needed a little more pressure before he’d break, she could feel the misfortune swirling like a cloud.
Enrique remained where he’d landed, watching them carefully, but not making any sudden moves. The man wasn’t dumb; he knew he’d been outmatched once, and she hadn’t even been trying. A second attempt would likely end worse for him.
Then, to further put pause in the Mexican crew’s action, out of the swirling snow, Green appeared, dropping out of the sky. The hare’s entry was quieter, more deliberate, as if she were trying to walk the line between both sides without escalating things further.
Her ears leaned to the side, approached with calm neutrality, her posture careful, hands slightly raised in a non-threatening gesture as she stepped between El Santo and her.
“Easy now,” Green said, her voice carrying a soothing, diplomatic tone that contrasted sharply with the tension on the deck. The Fable glanced at her, her brow furrowed slightly. “Let’s not turn this into a bigger mess than it already is. I get you’re pissed, Rachel, but this is going to get you and your people in a lot of trouble.”
Rachel didn’t respond; she didn’t need to. Her tail stiff and ears tilted forward, her focus shifted to Rafael as El Santo took a step back. The commander stood firm beside his many bodyguards, his eyes locked onto hers, the silent negotiation between them unfolding without words.
He knew she wasn’t going to back down and they stood to lose a lot more if they took the heat of her ire. After all, this was a huge political problem just waiting to come out. However, there was still an underlying confidence in his stance—a man used to control, but not foolish enough to provoke an unnecessary conflict.
The wind howled again, whipping snow across the deck, and for a moment, it felt like everything could explode with the wrong word. Scarlet’s blood gradually inched outward beside her, Grace’s fingers twitched near her revolver, and even Green’s calm approach couldn’t erase the thick tension wrapping around them.
Do it, Rafael… Bite the bullet, Rachel internally snarled. Take responsibility. You won’t be the main focus in anycase. I just need to expose them. Good choice.
Finally, Rafael raised a hand, signaling to his men to stand down. His voice was low but firm, his eyes never leaving Rachel’s. “We’re not here to fight, people. We’re here to cooperate and take down the Crystal threat.” He gestured to his crew, some of whom visibly relaxed but kept their weapons close.
Scarlet’s scowl softened just a touch, but her radiant red eyes still commanded a nervous edge from the crew; the young woman had gained a backbone since the masquerade. Grace, meanwhile, kept her attention divided between Enrique and the crew, hand lazily resting on one of her pistols she could whip out in less than half a second.
“And yet,” Rachel’s voice cut through the wind, cold and unwavering as she brushed by El Santo, the man moving with her to remain closeby, “I didn’t come here to talk or negotiate… Take me to the armory.”
The demand hung in the air, the storm seeming to pause for a moment as the weight of her words settled over the deck. Several crew members exchanged uneasy glances, some muttering about the ‘Omen hare’ and hares being insane. More than a few hissed curses in Spanish that she’d heard Maria mumble, but none dared make a move now that their boss was talking.
Green exhaled softly, stepping further into the middle, still trying to play the peacemaker. “Rachel, maybe we should—”
“I said,” Rachel cut her off, her eyes narrowing as she took a single step forward, El Santo half moving between them, “take me to the armory. You know what I want to confirm.”
“What is she talking about?” Green pressed, and a new voice entered the room.
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
All eyes shifted to the shattered door, where a few figures entered: General Tom Dallas, with a few men and women beside him, including Barbara. “Rafael, I trust Rachel’s instincts…and there was an attack just made on American soil.”
The deck went deathly silent, a lump dropping down several Legends’ throats as they glanced at each other. Rafael Ortega’s gaze didn’t waver, but the hesitation was clear. The tension hung like a blade between them, waiting to drop. And then, after what felt like an eternity, Rafael nodded slowly.
“I would like an answer myself, General… Stand down,” he ordered his men, more firmly this time. “We’re not here to fight. The Magitech Development Corporation is here to cooperate. Let her through.”
Just a little more.
El Santo hesitated but Rafael’s command held weight. Slowly, they began to lower their weapons, the tension easing just enough to let them breathe again. But the storm still raged outside, and the undercurrent of conflict hadn’t disappeared—merely shifted, like a predator waiting for its moment.
Grace’s fingers relaxed slightly on her gun, but her eyes stayed sharp, tracking every movement around them. Scarlet gave a satisfied hum, her blood still swirling faintly at her fingertips as she stood beside Rachel. Green, looking between them all, let out a soft sigh of relief but didn’t drop her guard completely.
When they parted, Rafael maintained eye contact with her; he was a normal human, unlike most of those who surrounded him. “Fine. But everyone else besides El Santo, Rachel, and General Dallas remains—”
Rachel cut him off. “Scarlet, Grace, William, and Green come.”
Rafael’s mouth tightened at her demand, but a look from Tom made him tilt his head. “Very well, but you are not providing a good first impression, Ms. Park.”
“I don’t have the luxury to,” she growled in return, stepping aside to allow him through. “You messed up. Now I have to fix your problem.”
The man strode forward to meet Tom with a tight expression. He knows… At least he can bite the bullet instead of playing politics and hiding behind diplomatic immunity or running back to Mexico, leaving a mess in his wake.
Rachel’s gaze remained icy and focused as she brushed past El Santo, who held no animosity while stepping aside, his massive arms crossed over his chest. The crew, now gathered around the entrance, watched her with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Scarlet, Grace, and William trailed closely behind as they left the navigation room to the lower levels, the tension in the air palpable between them.
Don’t give me that look, Barb, Rachel sighed while passing the woman. It would have caused more headaches to add you.
“You’ll get your chance soon enough,” she whispered in passing, catching the auburn-haired woman’s eye.
Grace and Scarlet gave her an apologetic smile in passing, the cowgirl practically bouncing at the calamity they were leaving in their wake.
They followed Rafael Ortega deeper into the bowels of the ship, the narrow metal corridors bathed in a flickering, eerie glow from the failing magitech systems. The hum of energy running through the vessel was erratic, matching the uncertainty of everyone on board.
Every now and then, a distant shout or muffled conversation in Spanish echoed through the halls, the crew members busy dealing with the storm or mechanical issues. Issues not naturally created.
Rafael led with quick, purposeful strides, his demeanor controlled but betraying an underlying concern as they moved toward the ship’s armory. Rachel could hear it in the rigid set of his shoulders. As they approached a heavily reinforced door, Rachel’s sharp eyes locked onto the intricate patterns of Aztec glyphs and brightened magitech symbols, woven into its surface.
Scarlet’s eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching at the sight of the glyphs. “It’s really hard for me to see beyond it,” she muttered under her breath. “It changes colors and blurs shapes.”
Rafael keyed in his credentials with practiced precision, muttering a soft phrase in Spanish that sent a ripple of energy through the door. Rachel’s senses prickled at the hum of power, her ears catching the faint shift in the air. Every layer of defense and magic buzzed against their skin, like a warning.
She gripped her hammer a little tighter, the Greater Moon of Abundance having shown her quite a few details about how the explosion was caused, which brought her here. The final lock disengaged with a heavy, resonating clank.
The door slowly creaked open, revealing the heart of the ship’s armory.
Rows of towering shelves lined the walls, each compartment secured with intricate locks and magitech seals. The soft blue glow of containment fields illuminated the room, casting an almost serene light over the dangerous contents stored inside.
Rachel’s attention immediately fell on what she’d been after: a sleek, cylindrical design, roughly the size of a large thermos. Its surface was made of a smooth, reinforced material, with a translucent window that revealed swirling, dense liquid inside—deep red, like blood, with a faint glow that pulsed rhythmically, almost as if alive.
They were neatly arranged along the walls…identical to the one found under Nam’s bed. She knew it based on the blast type and vortex inferno it had created, cycling back in the magical flames to provide an even more deadly internal cyclone. The sight stirred a cold fury inside her, her hand shaking against the hammer, her knuckles whitened.
But it was the empty slots on the shelves that drew her focus, several canisters missing from their designated spaces. Her blood simmered beneath the surface, but she kept her expression impassive, not willing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her anger.
Everyone fell into a tense silence, broken only by the faint hum of energy vibrating through the armory’s walls.
El Santo lingered by the doorway, his towering figure blocking part of the exit. He leaned against the frame with a thoughtful grin, crossing his arms over his chest while examining the space. “Well, what is it that drew you to our armory? Perhaps you wish to run a few laps now that you have seen it, conejito lunar? I can join you to burn off all that aggression?”
Rachel didn’t so much as glance in his direction, her focus locked on Rafael, who stepped forward with a grim expression. Tom could sense the weight the other leader was feeling, as well. Rafael’s face reflected the pressure of the situation his hired muscle didn’t grasp, lines of frustration and concern deepening around his eyes.
“I feared as much… Some of the MT-Cyclones are missing. Hmm… Stolen, would be a better word,” Rafael admitted, his voice low and steady, yet tinged with frustration before . “But I suspect you’re not here to blame us for what happened, are you?”
Finally, time to quit running and hiding. I know you’re listening and think I don’t know…
Rachel’s gaze snapped toward William, who hovered nervously by the entrance. His camera was still clutched tightly in his hands, unsure if he could take pictures again.
He swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable with the tension in the room, but he knew better than to speak after being dragged into this mess. His camera had captured more than just moments tonight—it was a window into the past—something the Abundant Moon had given her upon reflecting on the information she had.
Rachel’s voice was calm, but the unyielding authority in it left no room for argument; she’d have her moment to let loose soon enough. “William. Use your camera to look back and see who took the bombs.”
Scarlet’s lips curved into a half-smirk, a hint of amusement flickering in her crimson eyes. “I knew it the moment I saw that gold hair… You know who he is now. He’s connected to all of this, isn’t he?! Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding, huh?”
Not quite following, Scarlet, she internally sighed, motioning for him to continue. Sure, he’s working for someone who is looking for data on Myths and Legends, but he’s likely not connected to this.
William gulped, his hands trembling as he fumbled with the settings on his camera. “How do you know so much about me? This is freaky! Do you speak to spirits or something? Maybe we could sit down for an interview later. And I… Uh. Mmm. I can only look back an hour at most.”
Rachel’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. His fingers worked quickly, adjusting the dials as he raised the camera, aiming it toward the canisters. A faint blue glow shimmered around the lens as its flash bathed the area in light, rippling through the air in front of him.
The room held its collective breath as William pressed the shutter, the soft click of the camera echoing through the stillness. The photo slid out and began to develop, slowly revealing a moving image: a shadowy figure moving through the armory.
Suddenly, the sound of rushed footsteps echoed down the corridor behind them. An engineer stumbled into the open door, his face drained of color, eyes wide with panic, and breath coming out in ragged bursts. His words tripped over each other in his frantic attempt to speak.
“Rach—”
Before he could get a single coherent word out, Rachel’s hammer swung to the side with lethal precision and force that left a vacuum in its wake, the spike stopping just an inch from his face. The air around it buzzed with kinetic power, the room falling deathly still.
“Not another word, Astra,” Rachel said, her voice deadly quiet and eyes lighting with her buried fury. “Not…a word.”
Astra’s face contorted with panic, his hands raising in surrender as Scarlet reacted the moment his name was mentioned. Her blood swirling ominously around her fingers, ready to strike at a moment’s notice as her vampiric eyes burned into not the doll, but her mother behind it. The crimson tendrils hovered just over her fingertips, waiting for any signal to lash out.
As the picture came into full view, William’s face paled, his voice shaking with disbelief as he held it up. “It’s…him.” He pointed at the engineer. “He’s the one who took the bombs.”
A chill swept the room, but none more than around Scarlet. Rachel’s ears twitched, catching the subtle shifts in her labored breathing, rage boiling up; Rachel knew what the girl must have been thinking: you’re trying to kill Rachel’s family because you’re jealous I’m with them and not you!
Once again, you’re jumping the gun. Rachel’s eyes locked onto Astra, cold and unwavering as Scarlet’s blood snaked around the fake magitech engineer. Believe me, I want it to be your mother more than anyone…but this is a red herring.
Astra’s breaths came in shallow, real panic starting to set in, which wasn’t an easy feat for an AI. Yet, even he’d been caught off-guard by this development. He’d been played.
The room was thick with tension, every eye locked onto him, waiting for an explanation. Rachel’s hammer hovered near his face, the kinetic energy crackling in the air.
Scarlet’s blood swirled more aggressively, the tendrils closing in, reacting to her growing rage. Her voice was low, barely above a whisper, but each word dripped with venom. “You betrayed us! You’ve betrayed me.”
Astra’s hands trembled, his wide eyes flicking desperately between Scarlet and her. “I…I didn’t! I swear it, Scarlet, I didn’t set off the bomb. I… I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. They were stolen from me. Please, listen, I—”
Rachel didn’t move, dropping her hammer and using a hand to disperse Scarlet’s blood, causing the fanged girl to look at her in confusion.
“Was it…not them?” she asked, more referring to her mother than Astra.
“No… They were an ignorant accomplice. I believe you, Astra,” Rachel muttered.
Astra let out a shaky breath, relief beginning to wash over him, but Rachel’s livid expression quickly smothered any hope of escape.
“You didn’t come to me; I had to force you out,” she said, her voice low but lethal. “You would have had me running circles around you, chasing my own tail for hours.”
Astra opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off , stepping forward to enter his personal space, the weight of her fury pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.
“I could’ve treated you like Aella—dragged your face down the pavement, slapped you black and purple for wasting my time, until you saw a light at the end of the tunnel.” Rachel’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “I could’ve snapped, took it past logic, and killed you.
“I squared up ‘cause I’m sick of running circles around these clowns trying to call me out…” Pressing forward until her chest met his, her wide eyes burning with a cold fire, she breathed, “This is your one chance. Give me the Fable Key, and pray I don’t lose my patience if you hesitate.”
Astra visibly swallowed, sweat beading at his temple as his shaking hands fumbled in his pocket. The room was silent, Astra’s stammers the only thing above a whisper.
“I-I didn’t—”
Rachel’s ears tilted forward, her gaze icy and unrelenting. “You don’t think I know that? The moment you didn’t come to me, you lost trust. The key, Astra. Now.”
Panic flared in Astra’s eyes as he finally pulled out a small, glowing artifact—a misty silver artifact. Rachel snatched the key from his hand, her expression cold and calculating. That was everything the Abundant Moon gave her.
She stepped away, done with the AI and Adele, for now. The Fable Key wasn’t about Astra anymore—it was about something far larger.
Green, who had been watching silently from the corner, stepped forward, apprehension taking the woman upon seeing the item. “Wait… Is it real?! Rachel, that’s—why do you want something that can access any of our Fable Realms?! You don’t think…”
The hare paused as Rachel turned to her, disbelief dawning Green’s face. “You don’t think Red, Black, or Gray have anything to do with the attack on your brother, right?”
Having remained silent throughout the discussion, Tom’s deep voice joined them while staring at the mythical artifact Fable had wanted to get its hands on since leaving the Scarlet Hand. “A mole inside of Fable is a hard thing to swallow, considering the tight ship White runs.”
“It’s not for them,” Rachel coolly replied, noticing the intense eyes and questioning looks on everyone present. “…It’s for Abu Hassan.”
Every person excluding Green and Astra blinked before turning to Green as the weight of her words settled in for the pair. The AI was the one to respond, though, his eyes wide, realization dawning on him as he no doubt ran all the calculations.
“Of course… Not every Fablekin got their fairy tale… Red still struggles with hers. Some ended in grim tales.”
Green crossed her arms, a shiver running down her frame. “You don’t mean… The Fable of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves was corrupted… The leader of the thieves won.”
Rachel’s eyes gleamed for combat. “This rabbit hole runs deep…and I’ll get to the bottom of it by the end of the night. I’m not about to waste my time chasing shadows anymore. If any of you want to storm a Grim Kingdom, you’re more than welcomed to join me. There’s plenty of treasure to be plundered.”
Before heading for the mountain near the city, she grabbed Astra by the coat and pulled him in, nose twisting with anger. “We’re done. The fact that you didn’t come to me the moment this happened? That puts us on thin ice.”
Without waiting for a response, Rachel shoved him back, turned, and strode out of the armory, leaving whoever wanted to join her to follow. Grace and Scarlet were close behind, while William pulled out his camera, capturing the moment with a soft click.
His voice was filled with awe as he muttered to himself, “This is going to be…legendary.”
* — * — *
The snow fell steadily, casting a quiet, blanketing veil over the hunting cabin nestled deep in the wooded mountains outside of Billings. The landscape was still, the pine trees weighed down by the thick frost, and only the distant howl of the wind broke the silence.
A figure stood just outside the cabin, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, a folder tucked under his arm. The soft glow from the cherry end of the cigarette punctuated the darkness, illuminating the man’s sharp features and blonde hair, hidden beneath a standard-issue American military officer’s cap.
He took a deep drag, exhaling a plume of smoke into the crisp, cold air. His breath fogged in the bitter chill, mixing with the cigarette haze, but the cold didn’t bother him.
Dressed in camouflage fatigues, he appeared to be just another US soldier, but there was something in the stillness of his posture, the precise way he stood, that spoke of a deeper purpose. He wasn’t just waiting—he was calculating, watching.
The snow crunched faintly in the distance, subtle but deliberate, almost too soft for anyone else to notice. His pale blue eyes shifted, barely moving as his gaze focused on the source. A woman appeared through the swirling snow, her dark hair stark against the white landscape. She was walking slowly, holding her elbows behind her back, her posture relaxed, and her gait graceful. It was as though the cold wind and heavy snowfall weren’t affecting her at all.
She approached with a lightness that belied the blizzard, her figure seemingly untouched by the harsh environment, no trace of frost or chill on her black overcoat. Her lips curled in a smile, eyes gleaming with mischief. There was a timeless quality about her, something that felt ancient, despite the charm she exuded.
What has this world come to? I suppose when you have powers like hers, the higher ups take what they can get. Still, we need more information on her motives at the end of this operation.
The man took one last drag of his cigarette, watching her approach with measured disinterest. As she drew closer, he flicked the cigarette to the snow and ground it beneath his boot. The flakes hissed where the embers met it, the sound swallowed by the wind.
“You're early,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, his Russian accent long since erased, replaced with a perfect American drawl. “Rachel discovered the bomb makers sooner than I anticipated.”
The woman’s lips twitched, a small, playful laugh escaping her. She tilted her head slightly, as if amused by the very notion. With a slow, deliberate motion, she brought her hands in front of her, revealing nothing but the faint shimmer of snowflakes in her palms. Her fingers were delicate, but there was an odd, almost unsettling elegance to them.
“Oh, darling,” she cooed, the wind carrying her voice like a soft melody, “why would that matter? It’s actually helping us.”
She moved closer, her black hair whipping around her in the gusts, yet she remained unbothered. The way she moved, so fluidly, so effortlessly, made her seem less like a woman and more like something from a story—something old, something with deep roots in folklore. Her eyes sparkled with an ageless wisdom, and her presence carried a quiet, dangerous confidence.
He didn’t react to her words, not outwardly. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with steady, practiced hands. He took a drag, considering her for a long moment before speaking again.
“You think Rachel’s meddling helps?” he asked, his tone skeptical but controlled. His breath fogged the air as he exhaled again, smoke swirling like a ghost around him. “She’s not one to be easily fooled from what information we have on her. It is better to keep her occupied, but this could draw her more toward us in the end.”
The woman’s smile widened, and she stepped closer, her muddy-brown eyes locking with his. She didn’t blink, didn’t flinch at the cold or the gravity of the situation. Instead, she gave a little shrug, as if it were all a game to her.
“Oh, she’s formidable,” the woman purred, her voice a sultry whisper. “Her supporters are quite terrifying. But what is she going to do? She’s following a trail I’ve laid out for her. The more she uncovers, the more she plays into our hands and our opposition takes her ire.”
She paused, tapping her chin with one elegant finger. “Speaking of which…” Her smile took on a coy, knowing edge as she studied him. “Do you know who hired Abu Hassan to assassinate the Lunar Hare’s brother? I still haven’t discovered that little detail which could make for some…tantalizing twists. You would be the one to know, Mr. Informant.”
His hand paused midway to his lips, cigarette held between two fingers, his expression unreadable. He let the silence stretch between them before finally exhaling and dropping the cigarette to the ground, once again crushing it under his boot with a slow, deliberate motion.
“I don’t,” he muttered flatly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Not that you’d believe me.”
The woman’s smile grew wider still, almost cat-like, her amusement deepening as she watched him. There was a flicker of something darker in her eyes, something dangerous beneath the mask, as if she were constantly weighing every word, every action, calculating the outcome of this intricate game.
“Perhaps not,” she replied with a lilting laugh, stepping so close to him that their breath mingled in the cold air. “But isn’t that what makes this so much fun?”
Her fingers brushed his shoulder before taking the folder in his hands. With that, she turned, walking back into the storm with the same eerie grace she’d arrived with. The wind howled around her, but she seemed to glide through it effortlessly, as though the elements themselves parted to let her pass.
He watched her go, his expression impassive, though his mind worked furiously behind his icy gaze. Fables made real… Not real people, but imagination made reality. It will be interesting to see how much Rachel uncovers and how deep this conspiracy runs… Information is power.
Walking toward the military vehicle parked in the wooden cabin nearby, he started it and returned to the city.
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Comments
Opala
📸🤖
SME
Who knows, maybe Relica did. ;)
Andy
Astra probably had circumstances that prevented him from running to her until now. Oh man, I sort of thought it might have been relica who was orchestrating the whole bomb fiasco but apparently not. Wonder which fable that did it. Thanks for the chapter.
