Chapter 3

(In this chapter: mt/ft, mt/Fa, Ma/Fa, Consensual, NonConsensual, Light Bond, Petting, Safe Sex, Public Sex, Tentacles)

1 Valkyrie

This was Valkyrie’s favourite part of a day. After school, she could slip into hero mode; she could grow taller, bigger, stronger, with that sense of power coursing through her whole body. Best of all, she could spread her wings from her back, and fly. It didn’t feel like weightless floating, not the way Dynamo Dame described it. Valkyrie’s flight felt like gliding; like the giddy nervousness of her stomach dropping, tempered by the wind in her wings. She could absorb her whole mind into the rhythm of gliding and rising.

Then Adonis’ voice on her headset broke the peace. “Got anything, Val?”

She sighed, and her eyes opened to actually look at the streets below. “Stop calling me that.” The complaint gave her some time to scan, and she sighed. “Nothing on my end. You?”

“Not a thing, Val,” he said. “At least, nothing worth mentioning. I’ve had, like, one mugger and that’s it. Down in one punch. That’s no fun. And it was just some middle-aged guy getting mugged, so that’s no fun, either.”

She groaned. “If you paid more attention to your patrol and less to talking, maybe you’d find something you’d have more fun with? Or at least get more fun ... gratitude.”

“Nah,” he said. “Downtown’s been so quiet lately. How are things over on the waterfront?”

Valkyrie took her head out of the clouds, looking down at the city below. She took in a deep breath of the salty air. Sunbathers enjoyed the long stretch of coastline, broken up by docks that stretched from the water back to the streets. Colourful shopfronts stood along the street, with just a few stalls on the beach proper. Farther along the waterfront, the beach gave way entirely to docks.

“The usual,” she said. “Lots of people at the beach...” She smirked, and couldn’t help teasing him. “ ... lots of girls in bikinis, or less. Man, they really love that clothing-optional rule.”

“Aw man!” Adonis said. “I knew it. Trade patrols with me.”

Valkyrie laughed. “I dunno. As tempting as you make it sound to save middle-aged men from muggings...” She glimpsed movement in an alleyway. “Hold on, think I saw something. Going in for a closer look.”

Adonis went quiet; he knew better than to distract when something was actually happening, even if he kept listening.

She spread her wings to catch the air and slow her descent. Crouched on the rooftop, she peered over the edge to get a better view. At the alley’s street end stood a few preppy-looking teens, wearing designer-labelled swimsuits and fidgeting as they looked about, keeping wary eyes on their surroundings. Farther in stood a man in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and badly clashing set of big sunglasses and pinstriped hat. His suitcase, at least, looked more like what a beach tourist would carry.

The hatted man laughed at his customers’ squirminess. “Relaaax. There’s nothing to worry about. Now...” He rested the case on one forearm, and opened it with his other hand. From her angle, Valkyrie couldn’t see the contents, but she could guess. “Name your poison. Uppers, downers, all-arounders?”

“Um.” A short redhead was the first teen to speak. She lifted her expensive sunglasses up to rest on her brow. She pointed into the case. “What are those?”

“Ooh.” The hatted man grinned. He knew his stock well enough to know exactly where the girl was pointing. “Fine tastes. Those, my girl, are the very uppest of the uppers. Real, premium stuff. But, since this is your first shot at it, you can each get a dose for half price. Get you a preview, you know?”

While the man spoke, Valkyrie crawled across the rooftop. Normally, a little peaceful drug trafficking didn’t concern her, but the way he was talking...

Once she had a better angle, she saw the ‘uppers’: a series of clear vials strapped into the case. Each was filled with a clear fluid, tinted a variety of colours – green, grey, and blue were most common. Recognition made her heart skip a few beats. Talent tears. It was just what she’d thought.

Which made this drug deal absolutely her business. She dropped, landing hard in the alley, standing between the man and his customers.

Even without the drama of a smashing skylight, her impact and imposing stature sent everyone reeling. The teens turned and ran, but she focused on the dealer. Though it looked like a blind alley, he moved with purpose, ducking behind a dumpster.

She got him by the scruff before he could use whatever exit he’d planned. Even a grown man’s weight felt like a feather to her. She pinned him back against the nearest wall. “Where did you get those?” She kept her voice as brutal and cold as she could, but couldn’t help a quiver in her tone.

He grunted with the impact, but still put on a shit-eating grin. “Where did I get which? If you’re more specific, I can hook you up.”

She pushed him into the wall, raising the pressure until she heard the slightest bit of creaking. “Don’t play dumb. The tears.”

He gasped with pain, sharply enough to make her flinch and soften her force. “Easy, easy. A few tears is nothing to get weepy about, right?” The pun made her glare at him. Before she could change her mind about playing gentle, he added, “Look, I’m just small fry, right? Ease off, and I’ll talk.”

She grimaced. One of those types – a small-fry survivor. Holding him pinned felt like touching a cockroach. She let go, letting him drop into a heap, and shook out her hand. “Then talk. Where’d you get it?”

He found his fallen hat and put it back on. “It’s the Grimaldi mafia. Business hasn’t been so hot out in Circuit City, yeah? So they’re pushing north.”

“Ugh.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The protection rackets are bad enough; they’re bringing the tear crap here, too?” She shook her head. “I could have guessed it was Grimaldi from that ridiculous hat you’re wearing. I need more. How are they getting the tears into Northbeach?”

“Well.” Again, he gave her that shit-eating grin. “If you’re chasing them, you’ll be too busy for small fry like me, yeah? Make me a deal, and I can tell you what you need to know.”

2 Maximum

The Beacon of Vigilance stood tall, rising above its neighbours in the centre of downtown. Its squared structure spoke of solidity and reliability. Its colours, the Vigilants’ deep blue with red accent, represented trust and hope with a splash of bloody determination. No insignia labelled it, and no painted words named it. Its shape and colour alone marked it as a symbol of peace.

Maximum and April were nowhere near it. He peered out the car window. “We’ve passed that same taco truck three times now. Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“Of course we aren’t,” April said. “You don’t go straight to the Society. There aren’t even any entrances at ground level. Besides, I don’t want someone to just happen to see, oh hey look at that, April Greene is Lady Noctis. But I think we’ve smokescreened enough now.”

She made a different turn this time, heading into an underground car park. It had no windows; the only light came from overhead fluorescents. Another turn led down an asphalt corridor, just barely wide enough for her car. Twists and turns continued, like maze she had to solve to get them to the headquarters.

As they drove, she dug into her bag without looking, pulling out her pointed hat. “You should suit up before we get there. Spare mask in the glovebox, since you don’t have a ‘swimsuit’.”

“You’re not going to drop that any time soon, are you?” He found it: a little black domino mask. It adhered to his face as he pressed it down. “Man, so generic. I can’t wait for that costume.”

“Nightfall.” April had turned into Lady Noctis by the time he glanced over. Now he got a better look, he saw it wasn’t just the outfit and the shade of her hair and skin. Her curves adjusted, her body ironically looking less toned than before the transformation; her face had a more aristocratic slant to it, rather than her usual girl-next-door approachability. He could see the resemblance if he knew what to look for, but Lady Noctis looked more like April’s aloof sister than April herself. “Having a good costume is an important part of the gig.”

Max looked her over. That outfit was not designed to keep eyes off her. “Identity’s that important, huh?”

“Well, yes,” she said. “But more than that, costumes are just plain fun.” She looked to the side, smiling. “We’re here.”

The car pulled up to a blank wall, poised to drive right into it. She pulled a card out of her cleavage, and held it out the window. At first, it looked like nothing more than a club membership card. Then blue light shone from a pinprick hole in the wall. After a brief scan, it narrowed in on a blank point on the card. Max heard a click, and the wall opened, sinking down into the ground until it was level with the car’s wheels.

Lady Noctis drove forwards into the uphill tunnel. “Microchip in the card,” she said. “The card itself doesn’t even matter. Upgrade uses his old Blockbuster card, which I think is more suspicious than if he had a card labelled ‘hello I am a superhero’.”

“What’s Blockbuster?” Max asked.

“That’s my point,” Lady Noctis said. The tunnel opened up into a broad space. “And here we are.”

The Vigilants’ garage held a pillar at the centre, before broadening out into an octagon. Each corner led into a tunnel radiating outwards, to give the feeling of a spider web’s centre. As they got out, Maximum looked around at the other cars. “Huh. Kind of plain, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” Lady Noctis said. “This isn’t Circuit City, and most of us don’t have high-tech super-cars. For one, most of the locals can fly.”

She led him to the pillar and into an elevator big enough for a compact car. It hummed under their feet, but made no more noise than that. Maximum stood against the wall, his hands linked behind his neck. “Long way up, I’m guessing.” Truth was, with all the turns and tunnels, he wasn’t even sure if they were directly beneath the Beacon, let alone how far beneath.

“But that gives us time to talk.” Lady Noctis smiled at him. “And see how much you already know. Tell me, what is a talent?”

“That’s obvious.” Maximum had put it together maybe two seconds after she’d told him about Mister Wizard. “Talents are magic.”

“That answer is correct.” Lady Noctis’ smile turned cheeky. “But it’s also lazy. What kind of magic?”

Max frowned. “How would I know? I don’t know what kinds there are. Nobody’s ever even told me how magic works.”

“Most people don’t think it does,” Lady Noctis said. “I didn’t learn magic was real until I was sixteen, so it’s no surprise you need a crash course.”

Lady Noctis turned in a circle, her arms outstretched. “The potential for magic is all around us. Mana, metaphysical energy, trickles from the souls of living beings and fills up the world. Magicians learn to bend this energy field, and thus bend the world.

“But just as magic comes from the soul, it can flow back in. Magical exposure builds up, filling the soul like a capacitor fills with electricity. Most people just don’t know what to do with magical energy, don’t know how to put it to work. So it just builds and builds, towards a breaking point.

“Before it reaches that point, the presence of so much mana alters the soul. It adapts, discovers a way to offload the heavy power it’s been carrying. A spontaneous magical effect, a ‘trick’ particular to that person. A talent.”

“Alters the soul,” Maximum repeated, mulling it over. “So a talent is basically a mutation.”

“A supernatural mutation,” Lady Noctis said. “So don’t go hugging any nuclear reactors thinking you’ll get more power.”

Maximum sniffed. As if he needed more. “You said something about elements before.”

Lady Noctis nodded. “The six elements compose our reality. All magicians start their training with elemental magic.” She closed her eyes. “Mister Wizard has this flowery way he likes to introduce them, let me think...

“The first two elements are Space and Time, personified by moon silver and millennium gold. Together, these dimensions contain all other elements ... but on their own, they’re nothing but empty black and a void eternity.

“Next is Matter, personified by dragonbone brown. This governs the structure and form of all physical things, yet would still only create a universe of dead rock, still pools, and inert gas. Time may as well not exist there.

“Then comes Energy, personified by thunderstone blue. This is energy of all kinds – heat of both extremes, the spectra of electricity and magnetism, even the manipulation of raw magic itself. Now the world begins to take shape, with skies split by lightning and the earth roaring with fiery mountains. But for all its power, this world is still dead.

“So the last elements are Life and Thought, personified by quickemerald green and dreamvapour red. These elements can arise separately – the nearly-frozen lives of flora are Life without Thought, and spirits without incarnation are Thought without Life. But we know these elements as those of living, thinking beings like you and I, those who can perceive and appreciate the world, and strive for what it can be. Those who bring meaning to their existence, rather than simply ... being.”

Maximum let the silence linger, while he processed the full list. “And you said I’d be straight-up Time?”

“Like I said: millennium gold.” Lady Noctis pointed to her left eye. “All talents are based on a single element, a raw and instinctual expression of magic. Talents get more raw power, yeah – I’ve never heard of a magician stopping time. But magicians get more versatility; I’ve never heard of a talent making contact and contract with a spirit.”

“Man, this elevator’s taking forev–” Maximum looked over his shoulder, and stopped. “Oh.”

Lady Noctis grinned. “Yeah, we arrived about when I was telling you about Matter.” She walked past, leading him in.

3 Maximum

The Vigilant Society’s foyer was bigger than some ballrooms Maximum had been dragged to by his parents. They decorated the side walls with pictures of Vigilants, all the way back to founding members like DN Alpha. On the back wall, they’d hung newspaper clippings, describing the local members’ exploits – dismantling a counterfeiting ring two years before; the induction of Adonis and Valkyrie; someone had even put up the morning news about Lady Noctis and a ‘mysterious new hero’. Maximum liked the sound of that.

The floor was bare of furnishings; this room was made to move through, not linger in. In the floor’s centre, the carpet had been patterned into the coat of arms for the Vigilant Society: a blue field with a red upward chevron, bearing a bear that held a torch in one hand and a bell in the other. The motto read, ‘We Keep Watch’.

Lady Noctis strode in, smiling as she led the way. “Okay! The most fun tours always end in the infirmary, so we know the last point. But where should we get started?”

Max spent more time taking in the scene. He turned in slow circles. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Upgrade’s up in the hub, monitoring things,” Lady Noctis said, “And the others are all out on afternoon patrol. Gives us the run of the place.” She tapped her lip, and then smiled. “I’ve got it. We’re not supposed to show newbies, but I’ll make an exception.”

She led him up some stairs, down a steel-walled hall, and to a heavy, sealed door. Her card and a quick keypad code – 3412, he noticed – opened the door. Beyond, a red carpet formed an aisle between rows of pedestals bearing glass cases. Most were empty, but a few held exhibits as if from a museum.

Lady Noctis twirled, her arms held out. “Welcome to the trophy room,” she said. “Everything here is a souvenir from a victory for this branch of the Vigilant Society.”

Max could figure the drill: look, don’t touch. He leaned near one case which caught his eye. “Huh. What’s this?” A six-inch long, stiletto-thin dagger rested on a display stand. It was made of a yellow metal, paler than gold, and shone like it was coated with oil.

“The flash knife,” she said. “It was the signature weapon of a speedster assassin.”

He looked up. “You mean an assassin who targeted speedsters, or one who was a speedster?”

“Both,” she said.

He smirked. As he looked at her, he noticed a smaller exhibition, nothing more than a thumb-sized portable hard drive. “That’s a little plain, isn’t it? What’s on it?”

“The last copy of the Skeleton Key virus,” she said. “They never found a security system it couldn’t cack; they just brought in the guy who made it, and exterminated every copy.”

“But one,” he said. “Why do you still have this one?”

“Upgrade’s still studying it,” she said. “He wants to make security it can’t beat. No luck so far.”

He looked at the drive. “That little stick could open any bank vault...” He shook his head and moved on. “What else you got?”

Lady Noctis strode across the aisle. “This one is my favourite.” A handful of plain, white candles stood in the centre, with two printed cards behind them. “Candles that illuminate only the truth.” Before he could ask, she already had a wand in her hand. “Check this out.”

A wave of her wand lit one candle. The flame lit up one cord, reading ‘2+2=4’. The other remained dark, and didn’t even cast a shadow, as if the candle light passed right through. Max had to squint to read it: ‘2+2=5’.

“Cool, right?” Lady Noctis said. A wave of another wand extinguished the candle. “Mister Wizard made them to help fight a counterfeiting ring a couple of years back.”

Max stared at the candle, even with the wick gone dark. “How does that even...”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Lady Noctis said. “He made it, not me. He tried explaining it once, but that kind of thing is still well over my head.” She looked around the room. “I don’t know the stories for all of these, I’ve been with Circuit City since I started uni–”

A woman’s voice sounded over an intercom system. “Lady Noctis, come to the interrogation room. And bring one of those candles with you.”

4 Maximum

Through the one-way mirror, the interrogation room looked like something lifted straight from a police station. It was furnished only by one table and a few chairs, and occupied only by a garishly-dressed man with a pinstriped hat, handcuffed to the table.

Valkyrie stood by the door. Official profiles said that she was one of the Vigilants’ teenaged heroes, but Max wouldn’t have believed it. She stood over six and a half feet tall, towering over Lady Noctis. Her sable hair cut to shoulder length, and curled around her powerful and beautiful, Nordic features. Her eyes glowed green, with flecks of brown sprinkled throughout the iris.

Her size wasn’t just in height. Muscle packed out her broad form; in places, her pink skin seemed ready to burst from the power it had to contain. She exposed plenty of that skin: her upper half wore only a halter-necked blue bikini top. It cradled her breasts – slightly smaller than Lady Noctis’, but still an impressive size. Its cut freed white, feathered wings that sprouted from her back. Below, she wore a thigh-length blue skirt over three-quarter black leggings, and light, flat-soled boots. She had plenty of height even without heels.

Her arms folded under her chest. One finger tapped a rapid, agitated beat against her upper arm. As they came in, she strode right toward Lady Noctis. “Perfect, you’re here—” She frowned. “Where are the candles? And who’s this?”

“I can’t just take them out of the trophy room,” Lady Noctis said. “And this is—”

“Maximum,” he said, stepping forward.

“Right, the new guy.” Valkyrie turned back to Lady Noctis. “Look, we need to be sure that guy’s telling the truth. Can’t you grab just one of those candles?”

Lady Noctis grimaced. “That’s what you wanted them for? They don’t work like that. No written statement is as pure a lie as a counterfeit note. A counterfeit exists as nothing but a lie; a statement would have some grain of truth to it.”

“Then we don’t make him write it down,” Valkyrie said. “We shine the candle right in his face while he’s talking, and then we can see how shady his information is.”

“That’s even worse,” Lady Noctis said. “A single spoken lie won’t make a whole person show up as false, Valkyrie. He’s—”

“Hello?” called the hatted man. “These cuffs are totally unnecessary. I mean, I volunteered to be here.”

Lady Noctis palmed her face. “What’s so important about this guy? Who is he?”

“Just a no-name dealer,” Valkyrie said, “But he had these.” She produced a vial full of a transparent blue liquid.

“Shit,” Lady Noctis said, her face dropping right back into her palm. “Talent tears.” She knew Max would have questions, and cut him off at the pass. “That stuff contains the essence of a talent. Drinking it creates a surge of power. You get temporary talents, or if it matches what you’ve already got, you get stronger for as long as it lasts.”

Of course. Magic meant potions. “Where does it come from?” Max asked.

“It’s all in the name,” Lady Noctis said. “The eyes are the windows of the soul, and the tear ducts are its release valves. Not just any tears, but tears of emotion infuse with your magic.” Valkyrie’s nose wrinkled at the M word, but Lady Noctis continued. “On its own, it’s wild, unpredictable. With some refinement, it’s a hell of a drug. Euphoric, and a seriously dangerous power boost.” She looked across to Valkyrie. “And not just anyone can refine it. Where’d he get it?” She looked at the man and his hat. “The Grimaldis?”

“So he says,” Valkyrie said. “And if we let him go, he’ll tell us how they’re getting the next shipment in.”

“So that’s what the big deal is,” Lady Noctis said.

“That’s why it’s so important we know he’s legit,” Valkyrie said. “Or at least, telling the truth this time. And if the candles can’t do it, what do we do?”

“You could try asking him,” came a man’s voice. “He volunteered, didn’t he?”

Upgrade stood in the doorway. He was the Southport Vigilants’ most senior member: a tall, broad black man in a modern suit of armour, matte-grey and metallic. A riot-style helmet shielded his head, but the transparent visor still showed his warm smile, which extended upwards to his rich, brown eyes.

Valkyrie looked away from him, blushing.

Upgrade walked right past her and into the interrogation room proper, shutting the door behind him. “I hear you have some information for us, Mister... ?”

“Ooh, Mister,” the dealer said. “I like the sound of that. Very formal. I’d tip my hat, but.” He spread his hands. “Can’t quite reach.”

“Of course.” Upgrade produced a spare key from his belt, and the cuffs came right off. “Please, pardon Valkyrie. She can be ... excitable. The exuberance of the young, you know.”

“Whoa, whoa, how young?” the dealer asked. “I swear, I thought she was at least eighteen.”

“Fortunately for you,” Upgrade said, “we’re not here to discuss your attraction to Valkyrie.” His voice turned stern. “Talent tears. How are they getting into the city?”

“Slow down there, brother,” the dealer said. “Got to make sure you’ll play ball before I step onto the field. Same pitch as with the chick: I tell you what I know, we make this a catch-and-release kind of arrangement?”

Upgrade looked insulted. “Of course.”

“Then we’re good.” The dealer sat back, reclining his head onto his hands. “The tears come in by the waterfront. And it’s your lucky day, because there’s a shipment coming tonight. I can tell you when and where...” He patted himself down, and took a notepad from a pocket. “You got a pen?”

Upgrade had a pen out before the dealer even finished asking. In two minutes, he had a note in his clutches, and led the dealer out. “Valkyrie, take this young man back where you found him.”

“Ooh.” The dealer grinned. “Escort service, huh?” He’d apparently forgotten all his concerns about Valkyrie’s age. She looked like she’d be sick, but just let him away in silence.

Which left Max and Lady Noctis alone with Upgrade. The older man examined the younger with a critical eye. “So this is Maximum, eh?”

Max stepped forward. “That’s me. Nice place you have here.”

“Best Society in the country,” Upgrade said, full of modesty.

“Sounds like we have a mission tonight, sir?” Lady Noctis asked.

Upgrade opened the note, nodding. “7pm, on pier 18. He’s given some more details, including...” He frowned. “ ... his phone number, asking me to pass it on to Valkyrie.” He sighed, shaking his head.

Lady Noctis giggled behind her hand. “Seems like a straightforward raid.” She looked aside to Maximum. “A good place to—”

Maximum cut her off with a glare. He could speak for himself. “I’d like to join you,” he said. “Be a good way to meet the rest of the team, don’t you think?”

Upgrade gave him a shrewd look. “Had one outing yesterday, and you think you’re already good to dive into more? Are you sure you can keep up with my team?”

Maximum paused time, stepped around behind Upgrade, and unpaused. “I can keep up with anything.”

Upgrade jumped with surprise, but barked a laugh. “I’d see you prove it. You know the place and time. If you have a proper costume—”

“Swimsuit,” Lady Noctis said.

Upgrade looked at her oddly. “ ... a proper costume ready by then, come along. You can get yourself to the docks?”

“I’d prefer a lift,” Maximum said. “Appearances aside, I can’t teleport. I’d rather not walk the whole way, even if time’s stopped for everyone else.”

“Time’s stopped?” Upgrade repeated. “I’ll look forward to seeing that.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “By all means, get back to your tour. I’ll check in with Adonis and Dynamo Dame.” He turned to leave.

“Hold up,” Maximum said. “You realise he kept your pen, right?”

Upgrade stopped for half a step, but then walked away without another word.

Maximum smirked, turning to Lady Noctis. Before he could speak, his phone buzzed, and he grinned. “Actually, hold the tour. Take me home. My ‘swimsuit’ just arrived.”

5 Maximum

Maximum picked up his package and went straight up to his room. Along the way, he shouted a cursory greeting to his parents, and shut the door behind him. He hadn’t expected next-day delivery to be literal, but he wouldn’t complain.

He tried it on right away. It felt tight where he’d wanted it to, and had a sense of weight that made him feel all the stronger for carrying it. He turned and looked in his bedroom mirror.

Perfect. It started with a wrap-around, black mask. The wide, sculpted structure changed the look of his cheekbones, and the tinted lenses hid his eyes. On his upper body, he wore a black t-shirt with his insignia on the chest: an analogue clock-face, with the hands forming an M. A hooded, leather jacket layered over it, with steel studs running over his shoulders and down the sleeves. He’d always wanted a leather jacket, and this made as good an excuse as any. The pants matched: tight-fitting, black leather, showing off the muscle of his legs.

It looked good. It felt good. Much like his talent, he kept it as a naughty, exciting little secret; he boxed the whole thing up with his bat and hid it far back in his closet. He’d be ready for the night.

6 Lady Noctis (content advisory: inhuman, tentacles)

The talented had unfair advantages.

Their souls shone with magic – shone so brightly, it lit up the windows. Great power came easily to them, like the violin to a virtuoso, or speed to a rabbit. Training helped, but with how much a talent could accomplish right out of the box, so many treated it like any other kind of homework. A talent could have three hours until a mission; fuck around for two hours and fifty minutes; change into costume and psych himself up; and still have time for coffee.

A magician like Lady Noctis had no such luck. She couldn’t just pull magic out of a box in herself; she needed prep time. She didn’t have the raw oomph of a talent; she needed other sources of power.

As soon as she dropped Max at home, she went straight next door and upstairs to her old room. Everything, from the spread on the double bed to the band posters on the walls, was as pink and girly as she’d left it.

Which meant the secrets would be where she’d left them, too. She moved stacks off fashion magazines off the desk, revealing circles of white paint on the black wood. The interconnected circles were each the perfect size for one of her wands. With a few fresh chalk marks, she connected those arrays to the ones running down the desk leg and hidden under the carpet, ready to draw in the power she’d give it.

She went through the room, pulling up the loose carpet and connecting the bigger cells. Her hat, her bag, her broom – they all needed to recharge. Finally, she linked it all to her power source: the summoning circle she’d first inscribed under her bed when she was sixteen years old.

Deep breaths. Focus. Knelt on the bed, she folded her legs in a meditative pose. She reached inside herself, to the small spark of magic in her soul. Everyone had a little – but hers could barely warm a room, if she relied on raw power. So she fed that spark downwards, where her runic arrays could amplify and guide it.