Book 5: The Final Leg

Chapter 1

"Maestro Nathaniel, to the combat room, Maestro Nathaniel to the combat room quick pace."

"Oh, Creator." Nathaniel dropped his spoon onto the table, his rapidly cooling food practically smirking at him as he tore out of his room. This was becoming a routine, and not a good one.

Nathaniel was one of the top witches in the academy, known in his youth for his extreme skill in combat. Witches were the warriors and guardians of the entire galaxy: strong, respected and feared. Most Maestro witches also had Tiros, students who trained with them until adulthood, when they began their own journeys.

Nathaniel's current Tiro, Prada, was assigned to him because she showed combat potential from a young age, far above her age group. She was stronger than almost him, but her magic was out of control. He knew when he was told to train her that she was the Princess of Powys, the only survivor of a planet that no longer existed. The trauma had caused selected mutism, the terror of such loss constantly waking her. And the anger of getting revenge often led her to blast magic that was unacceptable at school levels.

He knew that's why he was being called, even as he sprinted down the hall. This had happened before, and frankly, he was getting sick of it.

"Prada!" he roared as he pulled open the door to the combat room. At fifteen, she was more difficult than ever before. Some Tiros could take the final tests at fifteen, if they started young. Prada seemed to prefer spending her days doing damage to the classroom halls and other Tiros in class, even if she pretended otherwise.

The roar of her Maestro made her jump. He was the one authority figure in her life she actually respected.

She turned her eyes dark and stopped her magic. Nathaniel could already see her frightened opponent cowering by the wall, and the damage she had done to the walls in a circle around the room.

"Nathaniel, your Tiro is out of control," her teacher started, but Nathaniel put his hand up to silence her. He pointed to Prada, snapping his fingers to indicate she should come to his side.

She stared him down and he growled.

"Now," he said, and she agreed at last.

There was no point in trying to make her apologize. Outside of a very select few people, Prada spoke to no one. So, instead, he turned toward the door, withdrawing her from the class with a sigh.

They were alone in the hallway, classes in session all around them, when he turned to her.

"He started it," she said, referring to her opponent.

"I don't care who started it," Nathaniel cried. "You do not use your powers like that. Did you see the damage you did?"

Prada crossed her arms, looking away, and Nathaniel considered giving her a magical shock. But anger was not a witch trait, it distracted from the magic.

"Prada, I'm talking to you," he said. She didn't answer, and he shook his head.

"Fine. You are not fighting in tomorrow's showcase."

"You can't do that!" she cried.

"Forget it. I'm not sitting there wondering whether you're going to win or just kill someone," he said. "I better find you in your room in an hour, working on homework."

"No!" she argued. "I trained for months to—"

"Silence," he said. "Go."

Her eyes flashed, but eventually she went. It was only when he was alone in the hallway that he put his head against the wall with a sigh.

He thought he was prepared for this. After Sienna, he thought he was prepared for anything.

Sienna had been his first Tiro, and his previous one. In an unprecedented move, he and his former Maestro, Desmond, had both taken on Sienna as a Tiro. She suffered from the locust gene, which meant that her unrivaled power was consumed by her body. Her autoimmune illness meant that anything natural, including magic, attacked itself and nearly killed her. They thought that between the two of them they could find a way to harness her power and make her a great witch.

But instead, they found that her life was not compatible with magic. After years of battling, of caring for her, Nathaniel made the decision to block her magic with chemical infusions. She was healthier than ever, lively and rosy-cheeked, but she was no longer a witch.

Desmond had abandoned her as a Tiro not long after that, knowing they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. He retired from the academy, pledging himself to his long-time forbidden love, Mariah, and both of them now lived off-world, enjoying their retirement with each other.

Nathaniel had made the heartbreaking choice to end her training soon after. The Jurors, the body that governed them, had made him take a Tiro of their choosing, as was the promise when he took Sienna.

Sienna's future was bright, living on Jeffro with her own love story. Devon, another former witch, and her childhood sweetheart, lived with her in the palace of the Queen of Jeffro.

Eliza, coincidentally, was Nathaniel's childhood sweetheart. And every time Prada made him want to put his head through the wall, he considered retreating there for the rest of his life.

Eventually, he tore himself away from the wall, trying to keep his face serene. He was supposed to be sitting on the Jurors for the afternoon to review new initiates. Sitting on the Jurors was a lifelong dream of his, and it was finally starting to come true.

Having a difficult Tiro was not helping his case, even if they had chosen her for him.

He often wondered where he would be had he not been such a talented warrior. Would they say his mind was bright, his approach serene? Or was he just known because he could kill many in a single blow?

Not that he could do that so quickly anymore. He wasn't old, but he wasn't exactly young either.

He tried to keep his face serene as he walked toward the chamber of the Jurors. Of course, with the use of magic, they could sense anything that was wrong. But he hoped that they would have no reason to probe, to look for something that they didn't need to see. They had given him a difficult assignment and he wanted to be worthy.

Even if he wasn't sure that he was worthy of much, since abandoning his Tiro. Witches were taught not to dwell in the past, for it always distracted them. Nathaniel felt the weight of that lesson more than anything as he pushed open the doors to the Juror chambers.

To his surprise, only Thomas was there waiting for him. Nathaniel looked at his time piece in confusion.

“Am I late?”

“You are not,” Thomas confirmed. “But I have asked the others to arrive a bit later in order to be able to speak to you.”

Nathaniel’s heart rate rose.

“Have I done something to offend, Maestro?”

“No,” Thomas said. “But there is a delicate situation that I wish to assign you and your Tiro to.”

“Delicate?” Nathaniel raised his eyebrow with a chuckle. It wasn't a humorous one, unfortunately. “I'm not sure we are the best ones to tackle delicate, especially as of late. Mass displays of power and carnage, yes. But delicate?”

“It may require both,” Thomas replied. “There is a rebellion on Dramoon, and the weapons they have acquired threaten the galaxy. We have tried negotiation as long as we could, but it appears to be raging into a civil war.”

“Dramoon?” Nathaniel said in surprise “That's a lost planet. I didn't even know that we had anyone who could work there. The population is so hidden, so…remote.”

“And yet their weapons are advanced, and no one knows which allegiance they will choose. Our negotiations have been based on computer translation, but we have lost touch with the regime that governs. Their civilians are in great danger, and if they set their sights on the galaxy…”

“I know what remote planets can do,” Nathaniel answered. “Especially if they have been hoarding fire power for decades. You have reason to believe that it might escalate?”

“Yes,” Thomas said, without doubt.

“As I said, Maestro, delicate negotiation is not the strength that my Tiro and I brag about…”

“Not this Tiro…” Thomas said and Nathaniel paused.

“What?”

“Your former Tiro has the capabilities in language to communicate with them. Very few could with such a difficult language, but Sienna…”

“Sienna has left the order,” Nathaniel pointed out. “And even if she hadn't, she doesn't have the power to defend herself in such a situation.”

“You may see where my mind is headed, Nathaniel,” Thomas said and Nathaniel's eyes widened.

“Asking a former witch to return…”

“I'm not asking her to return, Nathaniel. I'm asking her to assist the order that she once dedicated her life to serve. And that she would still serve, had it not been for the fault in her stars.”

Nathaniel wanted to tell Thomas that it wasn't the only reason that she left, but he knew that wasn't true. Had he and Desmond trained Sienna better, told her to focus on her magic, and remained faithful even when her body failed, she would likely still be here. But instead, they had backed away.

“I can ask her,” Nathaniel said. “It's only right.”

“There's more,” Thomas said, and Nathaniel bowed his head. “Your former Maestro, Desmond, served on Dramoon for almost two years.”

“He did?” Nathaniel said, in shock. “When?”

“Before he took you on,” Thomas said. “But no one else has even come close to that kind of service there. With her language, his experience, and your fire power we should be able to contain whatever threat they are conjuring. You would spearhead this quest, of course.”

Nathaniel couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“You want me to ask my former Maestro and Tiro to join me on a quest?”

“I want peace in this universe, Nathaniel,” Thomas replied. “And you know what happens when a rebel, rural planet gets out of control.”

“I do,” Nathaniel answered, remembering many cases in history when countless lives had been lost.

“Are you opposed to asking your former team to work with you?” Thomas asked.

“No,” he replied. “I'm just…surprised.”

“They could turn us down,” Thomas answered. “But I have a feeling that they won't when they both know what is at stake. I would not ask this unless the situation is desperate. Where are they?”

Nathaniel drew a deep breath.

“Sienna lives on Jeffro, in the royal palace, that's easy enough. Desmond may take a bit more searching. He has been enjoying the quiet life, as far as I can tell. She'll know where he is, though.”

“And her health?”

“She has kept her magic blocked,” Nathaniel answered. “As far as I can tell from afar, and so her health should be strong.”

“So be it,” Thomas waived his hand. “Let nature guide you, Nathaniel, for this is a situation that some may not come back from.”

“Nature will guide me,” Nathaniel answered, as he rose. “I'll go to them at once.”

“One more thing,” Thomas said. “Your Tiro. I heard about her today.”

He shook his head.

“I wish I could say it was out of the ordinary,” he said. “But Prada's powers have always been more than any of us have known.”

“And yet she trusts you,” Thomas said. “She will learn the ways Nature can guide her.”

“Yes,” Nathaniel replied, although he felt like he was lying. His mind was also whirling into the future. Sienna and Prada had only met once, when Sienna was still a witch. After that, he had only visited without his young Tiro in toe, trying to keep his lives separate How would Prada, fiercely jealous of anything that ever held his attention, react to the Tiro he once had a strong bond with? And how would Desmond react when he saw what had become of the Tiro that the Jurors had forced on Nathaniel?

Chapter 2

“Two minutes,” Nathaniel knocked on the door frame of Prada's quarters. She was packing, but she didn't look like she was packing fast enough. “I want to get this transport to Jeffro, or this won't be another one for a while.”

“I don't see why we can't pilot ourselves,” Prada answered, throwing things into a rut sack “We've gone that distance before.”

“Not for many years,” Nathaniel said, not wanting to tell her that he'd rather not pilot for twelve hours by himself if she was going to have a meltdown and refuse to do anything. “Come on, Prada.”

“Nathaniel,” he turned suddenly as Sybil, his childhood best friend, came up behind him from the hallway. “I heard you were rushing off.”

“Top secret,” Nathaniel turned to Sybil, a weary smile on his face. When they were young, they were top of their class, ready to take on the world. And for many years, they had done just that, taking the peak quests and laughing all the way. Now, approaching middle age, they didn't work together as often, taking quieter quests. Still, their friendship remained strong, and Sybil often wished him well before quests. “Are you off, as well?”

“Not until tomorrow,” she replied. “Prada, how are you?”

Prada's eyes flickered up, but as predicted, she had no words, even for someone who had been in her life since she was a child. Her hands rose, and she signed quickly. Sybil no longer needed translation and her eyebrows rose.

“Well, transport is much better than flying yourself,” she said. “Besides, you'll probably pick up something lovely on Jeffro. The Queen Eliza has so many ships. You'll like it.”

“Out of time, Prada,” Nathaniel said, as he looked at his time piece. “Pick up your rut sack, walk out the door.”

But… her thoughts bounced off his head.

“Now,” he said, and she groaned, walking out the door. “Go, I'll meet you in the hanger bay. Go now.”

She glared at him, but obeyed. Only when she was gone did Sybil turn Nathaniel.

“She's cheery today.”

“Promise me you'll never take another Tiro,” Nathaniel answered, as he shut Prada's door. “Life is easier that way.”

“Nathaniel, you do know that without you, she would be sent to the colonies, banished from the Order?” Sybil said, her tone taking on a serious note. “There is no one else who can control Prada's power like you can.”

Nathaniel sighed.

“Then why do I feel like I'm failing?”

“Every Maestro feels that way,” Sybil replied with a soft smile. “Go on, you'll be late. Say hello to the others for me.”

“You should come,” Nathaniel said and she shrugged.

“One day. Go save the world like we used to.”

“Let Nature guide you,” Nathaniel said, by way of parting, and followed Prada down the hallway. There weren't many public transport ships that came to their hanger, so his other option was a cargo ship that was stopping on Jeffro. It would be comfortable enough, and he was glad that he didn't have to take Prada on a crowded ship. She did better alone, in open spaces where her powers could lash out without much recourse.

Once aboard, they were assigned quarters for the long ride. It was two bunks, and a sitting area, clearly meant for the crew. But as witches, they were often treated with dignity and respect, given the best arrangements.

Prada threw herself onto a bunk, pulling out her tablet. Nathaniel settled their bags by the door, seating himself on the couch.

“Do you have homework to do?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then you don't need to be constantly staring at your tablet,” he answered, looking around the room. The walls were reinforced, and the space was wide. “We could spar if you want.”

Prada glanced at him.

“Now?”

She loved anything to do with sparring, or to fighting in general. She was a miracle in combat, so much power coming out of a tiny body. Nathaniel had done his best to teach her everything he could, but she surpassed him in brute strength. It was technique, control, she lacked.

“If you'd like,” he replied, and she put her tablet down, getting to her feet.

“I'll knock you to ground,” she said and he stood, with a smile.

“Will you now?” he said, thinking back to what he was learning in combat classes at this age. “Have they taught you an arrow yet?”

“Wha—” Prada only got the first three letters out before he flexed his palms, and flipped them, sending her a blast of magic she was barely prepared her.

She blocked it, and then shot back a powerful, but wild stream back. Nathaniel grinned, tensing his shoulders, and squaring his feet.

In the end, both of them were left equally out of breath, their magic feeling depleted, and their room in tatters. It was easy enough to fix, levitation and repair spells were taught in first year. But as they picked up after themselves, Prada broke their panting silence.

“She couldn't do that,” she said and Nathaniel knew what she was getting at.

“No,” he said, picking up her thoughts. “When I took Sienna to Jeffro, we flew ourselves. And Sienna didn't spar, ever.”

“Why?” Prada asked. “Why couldn't you teach her? You are a warrior. Desmond was a warrior. Why did you not force her onto cargo ships?”

“Flying with Sienna was difficult,” Nathaniel replied softly. “We chose to fly ourselves because of how ill she was, we could manage on our own schedule if we needed. As for her magic, you know it made her sick. Once we figured out there was no sparring. But far more homework in other subjects.”

“She should not have been a witch,” Prada said, and Nathaniel tried very hard not to get angry.

“That is not up to us, Prada.”

“Had she not been a witch, you could have trained me sooner,” Prada said. “Maybe…”

“Woah,” Nathaniel had not heard these words from her before. “Prada, there was no way. No way I could have stopped what happened to you, even if I didn't have a Tiro.”

He knew, of course, that his young Tiro had experienced violence and horrors almost from birth. But even if he didn't have a Tiro, he hadn't been aware of her existence to save her.

“You don't know that,” Prada cried, and Nathaniel tensed his palm. She was either going to cry or rage and he had to be prepared for both.

“I don't,” he answered. “But we cannot change the past. I am training you now, and that's all that matters.”

Prada bit her lip, and looked away.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “What can I do?”

“You do not let me do what I am able to do, because of her,” Prada answered. “I am not fragile, I am not weak. I can be more than this.”

“You will be a great witch,” Nathaniel answered. “But you are still in training now, do not forget that.”

“What I am supposed to do?” Prada asked. “Around so many that aren't witches? She can't use magic, Desmond is old, and we are supposed to—”

“Prada.” He put his hand to his face. “Can you just trust me, that this quest will be all right? Please?”

He was the only person in the world that she remotely considered trusting, and he was aware that some days that wasn't enough. However, today, she nodded, falling silent.

“You should get some homework done,” he said, leaving her to the room. He needed to clear his head, before he said something that he regretted. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his Tiro because he felt like a failure.

Instead, he walked the ship, trying to occupy his mind; to come up with arguments of what he was going to say when he saw his old team again. He had spoken to them both, of course, but this was a different request. Sienna knew he was coming, but she didn't know why. And whether she had Desmond's updated whereabouts was a different story. Desmond checked in often, but he did not share any details of his life. Instead, he asked about his Tiro's lives, made sure they were well.

It was as close to a family as they would ever get.

When they finally docked, Nathaniel could not get off the ship fast enough. It was mostly shipping containers being unloaded in Jeffro, and very few people noticed them as they disembarked.

He remembered the days when they received a royal welcome in Jeffro, the Queen herself approaching them with a smile on her face. But now, not on official business and with a surprise in their minds, no one paid them much attention.

It wasn't until they found their way around to the hallways of the royal palace that they found Sienna.

She was clearly working in an official capacity. As a Baroness, a rank granted by Eliza so that she would always be safe, she was also one of the top translators in the world. Nathaniel always found it slightly ironic that she was brilliant in all languages except Basic. What was supposed to be the easiest most widely spoken language gave her difficulty, but the smaller, rural languages came as easy to her as breathing. He was proud of her though, for carving a life outside of the witches. She had wanted nothing more than to be a witch, and they had forced her to abandoned that path. Nature had done some of the work, of course, but he still often thought of the day he had walked away from her training.

He couldn't imagine, fifteen years ago, doing such a thing, living such a life. It was a reminder that life changed in a moment, an instant, to the exact opposite of what it used to be.

“Maestro,” Sienna's face lit up and she threw herself upon him. He briefly put his arms around her and squeezed her gently. Beside them, he felt Prada growl in his mind. This was not going to be easy.

“How are you, little one?” he asked, his nickname for Sienna. She smiled, stepping back. She looked well, now that her magic was blocked. He knew she had kept up with the regime, daily medications to make sure that there was no trace of magic left in her body. Without magic, she could thrive at last.

“I'm well,” she said. “Busy today, I miscalculated when you were coming. Hello, Prada.”

She had sat with Nathaniel the first time they had seen Prada in a tournament, her strong power reminding both of them of Sienna's power when she was a child. Unlike Sienna, though, Prada would not lose her power. Prada was stronger every day, learning to turn her gifted power into a well-respected weapon.

Before they blocked her magic, Sienna could barely learn how to breathe without magic interfering and running out of control.

Prada cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“The Queen is awaiting you,” Sienna said. “I can take you, if you want.”

“Of course,” Nathaniel said. “I wouldn't dare wander around Jeffro without saying hello to Her Highness.”

“This way,” Sienna said, indicating they should take a back passage way.

“Where's Devon?” Nathaniel asked and he saw her face flicker.

“He's just napping,” Sienna said. “It's been a long day.”

“Oh?” Nathaniel asked, and she shrugged.

“We'll see him later,” she said, closing the conversation. But Nathaniel had a feeling that something more was happening. This was not a good way to start a dangerous quest.

Chapter 3

“Witches of the High Order, Maestro Nathaniel and his Tiro,” came the announcement as they entered the throne room. Eliza was in full regalia on the throne. If they were alone, he might have embraced her, or kissed her beautiful pink lips. However now, he simply tugged on Prada's cloak, to indicate she should dip to her knees. It was very rare that they bowed to anyone, but Eliza was special. Her title alone meant that she ruled a whole system of planets, acquiring them as if they were new coats, it seemed. She was so powerful, and yet, when Nathaniel looked at her, he saw none of that. Prada was a Princess by birth, and she usually didn't bow to anyone. But Eliza was a Queen, one of the most powerful in the universe, and Prada dipped low reluctantly.

He saw the woman he had loved since he was barely a teenager. When he had first seen Eliza, as a young queen, just trying to figure out how to rule far sooner than she had anticipated. She may have been nervous, but she had always done it with grace and beauty, and he had loved her since the start.

Now, she quirked an eyebrow at him, accepting their bow. She didn't rise, and Nathaniel's eyes flickered to the empty throne beside her. He had sat there more than once, not in an official capacity, but everyone knew where their hearts lay.

“You present to me a new Tiro,” Eliza said to Nathaniel, knowing everything there was to know about Prada from afar. With Sienna, they had practically raised her together. With Prada, Nathaniel felt alone in so many ways. Keeping Prada apart from his old life had mostly been choice, to avoid so many things that had gone wrong last time. “I remember the last time you came strolling in here with a Tiro.”

She gave a small smile to Sienna, who was standing off to the side. Sienna smiled back, although hers smile tight.

“This is Prada,” Nathaniel said. “And she would be pleased to serve you , as the one before her has.”

Eliza rose, waving her hand. It was the signal for the throne room to empty. Her servants and those in attendance immediately scattered. Nathaniel was always impressed with how fast she could make people leave the room.

Once the room was mostly clear, Eliza walked down the few steps. She met Nathaniel's eyes , communicating with only a look whether she should embrace him the way they both wanted to. But he straightened up a bit more, taking a step closer to Prada, to indicate that she shouldn't, not yet. So instead, Eliza turned a kind smile toward Prada.

“It is nice to meet you, at long last.”

What does she expect?

Prada's voice rang in Nathaniel's head, and he was about to answer her when something caught the corner of his eye. Sienna's head turned toward Prada and Nathaniel, and her eyes gleamed.

He knew that look, there was no way she could hide it.

She had heard their thoughts.

It was completely rare that a witch could hear the bond of another. Sienna had been a very powerful witch, and she was the only one who could listen it at ease to almost anything she wanted. The fact that he was her former Maestro made a hearing slightly more likely.

However, there was no way she should be able to hear anything with her magic blocked.

She looked away immediately, but he had already seen it.

Maestro! Prada practically screamed in his mind, and he turned back to her.

“Sorry! I…”

Sienna used the break in the conversation to dip low.

“I'll take my leave, your highness,” she said, before Nathaniel could call her out. She scurried from the room, leaving Eliza confused.

“What…?” Eliza asked, and Nathaniel sighed.

“There's a lot to discuss,” he said. “Between all of us, I imagine.”

“There is,” Eliza said, but she tried to smile. “What would you like first? Dinner, perhaps?”

Prada shifted at that, and Nathaniel managed a smile.

“Yes. It's a bit easier to feed Prada than Sienna.”

“You've never had a true Jeffro feast,” Eliza said to Prada. She was trying to be kind, but Nathaniel could see a flash in her eyes.

He grabbed her wrist, warning her.

“Prada, you are a guest,” he said, through his teeth. “And you will behave as such.”

“Do you want to go to her?” Eliza asked, indicating Sienna's rapid exit. “I would like to get to know you, Prada, for I have known your Maestro for quite a while.”

“Uh…” Nathaniel glanced at his Tiro. He would like to find out what was going on, but he knew there was no chance, given the way Prada had been behaving. The last thing he wanted was her to lose control and destroy the Jeffro palace, only recently rebuilt. In addition, like Sienna's early days, Prada had no way to communicate with Eliza, and he had seen what damage that would do.

“No, it's all right,” he said. “Food sounds lovely. Come on, Prada, it will taste better than anything we've had on the plane. A moment of normalcy, and then we can work, I promise.”

We are here for the quest, Prada said back to him, although she did follow him on the way out of the throne room. Nothing more.

Stop, he warned her, his mind half-distracted. Normally, he'd be thrilled to have dinner with Eliza. But despite his attempts at normal conversation, he couldn't seem to connect with her over the noise of Prada's thoughts. Eliza seemed to understand this, and understand that she was secondary to their reason for being here. Nathaniel wanted to promise that he would see her that night, but he wasn't sure he would. He had so many questions for his former Tiro, and he wasn't sure where they would lead.

“Why her?” Prada asked him, as they walked down the hall to find Sienna's rooms. As a Baroness, she was afforded some grand rooms, with outer chambers, and enough space for almost an entire army to take up residence.

“Why Eliza?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”

It was an oddly tender moment.

“You just…know,” he replied. “You know your path, and once you know it...you can't deviate it from it. Even if you want to.”

“Do you want to?”

“Prada…” he said, unsure of whether she was able to handle such a mature view. “You know as well as I do that my relationship with Eliza is not exactly smiled upon by the Order. My Maestro was cast out for such behavior It's not a light matter.”

“I know,” she replied. “But if you know your path, you must follow it. Forcing someone off their path does not bode well.”

“I—” It was a surprisingly mature answer, and he wasn't prepared for it. She said no more, as he knocked on Sienna's grand door.

“Hi,” she pulled the door open, almost as if waiting for them. He raised an eyebrow

“How did you know we were here?”

“I was just about to leave, actually,” she said. “But you want to talk?”

“I do,” Nathaniel answered. “And you better sit down.”

“Oh?” she replied, leading them into her inner chambers. “Why? Have you come to ask me to rejoin the order?

Nathaniel winced, glancing to Prada. Sienna' s jaw dropped.

“What?”

“Not quite,” Nathaniel answered. “But we do need your help.”

Sienna took the request fairly well, given the surprising turn of events. She looked calm, which Nathaniel was proud of her for. She was once so nervous by every moment. Now, she took his news with grace, nodding.

“Of course,” she said. “I'm probably one of the only people who could do it. It'd be a challenge.”

“You are happy to work with them, then?”

“I am,” she answered. “We chose to leave them, remember? I harbor only good feelings, and memories. There's no harshness, no anger.”

“As we taught you,” he said proudly. “And speaking of we, do you know where Desmond is?”

“Do they want him, too?” she asked in surprise

“Apparently, Desmond spent two years on Dramoon, before either of us,” Nathaniel said. “And with it being so remote, there are very few experts in the field.”

“Huh,” she answered. “I didn't know that.”

“I don't think many people did,” Nathaniel said. “He kept it from all of us. I can only guess what he saw there, to never speak of it again.”

“But I never saw it in his mind...” Sienna started and Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.

“Were you supposed to be looking?”

“No.” She flushed, like she was still a school child, and then looked to Prada. “Does he yell at you like that, too?”

Prada tensed, and Nathaniel half hoped that she would answer her, just out of spite. But she said nothing, instead looking to her Maestro for help.

“It's okay,” Nathaniel tried to assure her. “Sienna understands where you are coming from.”

No, Prada rose defiantly, her face turning red. She does not.

“You can go,” Nathaniel didn't want to start a fight with her here and now. “You're tired, get some rest.”

His defiant Tiro didn't need telling twice. She stormed out of the room, leaving Nathaniel and Sienna alone in the echoing walls.

“Was I that difficult?” she asked him.

“You were…a different challenge,” he said. “But not one I regret.”

“Do you regret it with her?”

“I don't,” he said, sighing. “It's just as you said, difficult. And this quest is going to be above all that we've ever had. Do you know where Desmond is?”

“I do,” she said. “And it should be easy to get into contact with him. He's not too far away.”

“I'm not surprised he kept a close eye on you,” Nathaniel said. “Do you ask him about how to manage your magic?”

She grew pale at that. “What are you talking about? I'm blocked, I can't—”

“Sienna, it is no surprise to me that I was the stricter of the two of us,” he said. “And that I would not be the one you came to when you wanted to walk a gray line of using magic that you know might kill you. You've gotten good at hiding it, though, I couldn't detect it when we first met.”

“How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“You can hear my bond with Prada,” he said. “Which means you have found a way to use it at full strength.”

“Not all the time,” she said softly. “Just when Devon needs it.”

He softened. “Is he not well?”

“He'll die without my magic, Nathaniel,” she cried.

“And you'll die with it, little one,” he answered.

“We have left the Order and he is without a cure. Tell me, what option do I have?” she asked. “What if it was Eliza?”

“I would find a way,” he admitted. “But there has to be a way here, without you killing yourself.”

“There's never been a witch more powerful than me,” she said. “No one could heal like I did. No one can even dream of resurrection”

He paused.

“Prada could,” he said. “If her power doesn't destroy her we may be able to figure out a way to save both of you. However, if Dramoon declares war on all of us, there's no point in anyone being saved.”

“Of course, I will help,” Sienna said. “I just I need Devon to be all right.”

“I understand love, Sienna,” he said. “We will do what we can.”

Chapter 4

“Can you get away tonight?” Eliza asked Nathaniel quietly, that night as the official dinner feast ended. He hadn't eaten much, waiting for Sienna to tell him she'd made contact with the secretive Desmond. It wasn't that he was on bad terms with Desmond. His former Maestro checked in frequently. But he also enjoyed a quiet life far away from his old life.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “Prada's reasonably independent. But she isn't the most stable with her magic.”

“We'll be close by,” Eliza wiggled her eyebrows. “And awake.”

“Mm,” he said, reaching for a drink. “If I can keep my eyes open. We're not as young as we once were.”

Eliza ducked her head at that. “Speak for yourself,” she said. “Have you been to see Devon yet?”

“No?” Nathaniel asked. “Sienna keeps putting it off. I know he's been sick but…”

Eliza's eyes widened.

“Is that what she told you?”

Nathaniel felt himself grow pale.

“What is the truth?”

Eliza looked from side to side and then lowered her voice even more.

“Devon hasn't been conscious in nearly 6 months,” she said. “He slipped into a coma and we cannot bring him back. Truthfully, we...shouldn't be bringing him back, he's progressed far father than we can manage in this day and age. But she won't let him go.”

“Oh, Creator.” Nathaniel put a hand to his mouth. “That's why her magic is active.”

“Her magic is active?” Eliza asked, in shock. “But…”

“She's keeping it a secret,” Nathaniel replied. “She admitted to trying to heal him, but I didn't realize. She didn't tell me until I caught her. Creator.”

“I'm sorry,” Eliza apologized. “I should have been watching her closer. I thought you knew, and it wasn't my place to tell you. I—”

“It's not your fault,” Nathaniel answered. “But all of this is starting to make sense, at last. I thought he was all right, or at least getting along. Has she been sick?”

Eliza thought for a moment. “Not…maybe. If she's been keeping it a secret, she's very good at it. I've noticed a few things, but she's been working hard, and away. Ah.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry. I feel like I failed you on that front.”

“My love, you haven't,” he said, knowing exactly what she was feeling. Eliza felt like she had taken custody of them, all those years ago. “But I will speak to her.”

“Speak of the devil,” Eliza said, as Sienna entered the feast hall quietly. A few bowed to the new baroness, but most continued eating, as she approached, crouching down between Nathaniel and Eliza.

“He'll be here in an hour or so,” Sienna said. “He didn't react much when I told him about Dramoon, but…he's coming.”

“He was close then,” Nathaniel said and Sienna smiled.

“He was just on Teranon.”

“Teranon?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, a planet half an hour away. “Really?”

“He and Mariah were on vacation at the beach,” Sienna said. “Do you want to see him right away?”

“There's something I'd rather see first, little one,” he said. “Eliza has told me just where Devon is.”

Sienna actually took a step back and her eyes clouded.

“He's all right,” she said, and Nathaniel reached a hand out to touch her arm. Prada didn't miss the connection—the one she didn't have with her Maestro.

“He's not all right,” he said. “Do you want to take me to him?”

“No,” she said, although she had already decided that she would take him. Nathaniel rose, and Prada quickly joined his side.

They followed Sienna down long hallways , and into the Jeffro medical bay.

In the back, in a private room, lay a shadow of what Sienna's love used to be.

He was so thin he was practically skeletal, machines hooked up to every available space. A quick scan of the body told Nathaniel that Devon was not alive on his own. There were machines breathing for him, pumping his heart, flowing his blood through his veins

Medical science had come so far, done so much. But they were not immortal, not yet, and perhaps not ever.

“He can hear you,” Sienna said, sitting quietly on the bed beside him and holding his hand. She squeezed, and brushed some hair away from her lover's face. “If you want to say hello.”

Nathaniel paused, unsure of what to say.

Is he dead? Prada asked him, her face expressionless.

“No!” Sienna snapped, turning around. Prada looked positively terrified at that reaction, turning to her Maestro in shock. As far as Nathaniel was aware, there was no one outside of him that Prada had ever communicated with words since the destruction of her planet. Her trauma kicked in, the fear of speaking to anyone else throttled by the fact that she had. She went pale, her hands suddenly clenching at her side.

He knew that she couldn't control it. He knew she was powerless when her brain went into the vacuum of terror.

“Prada,” he said. “Prada, it's all right. It's all right. I need you to calm down.”

Magic played across her hands, as rage filled her. This invasion of privacy was such a shock, such terror, that her magic wouldn't stay in the rational part of her brain.

“Sienna, get down,” Nathaniel cried, and she ducked against Devon's body as Prada's magic shot from her finger tips.

He was able to block it twice before it did damage, blasting a whole in the medical bay wall.

He grabbed onto her wrists, pulling her to the ground quickly.

“Prada, STOP,” he cried, and at last, she managed to comply. Her breath came in gasps, and her eyes cleared. “She did not mean to liste , Prada, but what you said was rude. Do you understand?”

Prada glared at her, but he could see that she was under control.

And that was why he knew it was out of pure anger that she shot magic from her left hand as she got up. Sienna had no means to block it, and it tore in her upper arm, a shriek coming from her.

Nathaniel was aghast at this. He had seen her behave in anger and spite. But to intentionally wound someone defenseless, it was shocking.

“Get out,” he growled at his Tiro. “You will go straight to your rooms and you will wait for me. And if you dare disobey me, you will find yourself off this quest. Do you understand me?”

She didn't need telling twice, and rushed outs of the room. Nathaniel was shaking in shock, and in anger, but he tried to calm down enough to turn to Sienna.

“Are you all right, little one?” he asked, and she nodded, even though a tear traced down her cheek and she clung to her arm in pain.

He went to her, noticing that she had not let go of Devon's hand.

Ten years ago, he never imagined that it would have come to this. This was a nightmare scenario to be in, when it seemed everyone around him was in the wrong place.

“That exposure to magic is going to make you sick,” he said, as he looked at the depth of the wound and how much she had absorbed. “You are going to need an extra IV or two.”

“No,” Sienna said. “It's taken me five months just to get a level of magic back in my blood at all. The medication had such a long half-life that…”

“That you were quite healthy for a while,” he said. “Long enough to forget that it was killing you beforehand.”

“It's not like that…” she said. “I have to do this, Nathaniel. I've survived resurrection before.”

“And what if you don't survive it?” he asked. “And Devon awakes to find you dead? Have you thought of that?”

“She can do it, can't she?” Sienna asked. “That magic…she really can do it.”

“She can,” Nathaniel said. “It's whether she will or not. It's not been easy, as you have noticed.”

“Mm.” She didn't seem to care about her wound, checking on Devon's vitals. “Can't you make her? You're her Maestro.”

“The magical order does not take kindly on resurrection,” Nathaniel said. “We are not meant to play Creator, you are aware.”

“The magical order did not take kindly to me,” she cried. “And I didn't succeed, but we made strides, didn't we?”

“We did,” Nathaniel answered. “But this isn't a case of healing. If Prada did it, she could risk her life. And she is so powerful that…”

“That you wouldn't risk losing her,” Sienna answered. “Even for me.”

“If it was for you, little one, it would be in an instant,” he tried to assure her. “You were my first Tiro, I have a duty to protect you before the others.”

“Devon is a piece of me,” she said. “And if Dramoon blows this universe apart, I'm not sure it will matter in my heart without him.”

He said nothing for a long time, putting a hand on her shoulder. In the silence, the only thing left to hear was the beeping of the machines.

“Have you told Laura?” Nathaniel asked. Sienna shook her head.

“She's starting to ask, though. I can't put her off forever, she's his old Maestro. But she would know if he was gone, wouldn't she? She would feel it. He's not gone. He's still in there.”

Nathaniel considered that fact.

“Possibly. It depends how far the bond has gone,” he said. “You are always connected in some way.”

“Until death,” she said. “And he's still in there, I know he is.”

“We did teach you to never give up,” said a deep voice, and Nathaniel spun around to see Desmond standing at the door at long last.

It had been a few years since he had seen his old Maestro in the flesh. A bit grayer, with a few more wrinkles, Desmond still looked dignified, tall and imposing.

“Maestro!” Sienna said, flying off the bed to give him a hug. He put his arms around her, relaxing as he looked over her shoulder to Nathaniel. “I've missed you.”

“I've missed you both, too,” Desmond answered “But it seems that you've both gotten into quite a mess, haven't you?”

“Aren't we always in a mess?” Nathaniel asked. “The hole on the wall is courtesy of my Tiro, in case you are wondering.”

“Lovely.” Desmond glanced up at the wall, and then down at Sienna. Her wound was cauterized, but it must have hurt something fierce. “We need to find you a medic.”

“It's fine.,” Sienna said. “But we need you to help save the universe.”

“As usual,” Desmond said with a smile. “Sit down then. Hello, Devon.”

He had been here before, Nathaniel could tell. Whether or not Sienna was aware of the fact that he knew everything remained to be seen. But he knew Devon's state, even as he guided her slowly back to the bed.

“I think this may be a good time to admit,” Nathaniel said with no shame. “That I'm so glad you're here and I have no idea what I'm doing.”

“Somethings never change,” Desmond answered with a small smile. “You are an adult, now, Nathaniel, you've been one for a while.”

“Yes,” Nathaniel said. “But if you could yell at my Tiro, save Dramoon and the universe, and make our former Tiro smile again, I'd be forever grateful”

“How about,” Desmond said with a smile. “We start with a cup of tea and a chat? Sienna?”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxed. In between her Maestros again, she was transported back to her childhood. She finally felt at home.

Chapter 5

“I'm not opposed to the work,” Desmond said. “But Dramoon is not a place for the faint of heart. They are so far from any civilization that any of us have every encountered.”

“What did you do there?” Nathaniel asked. “And when did you go? None of us knew anything about it.”

Desmond took a deep breath.

“I was trying to start another school,” he said, and Nathaniel's jaw dropped.

“What?”

“Children born to Dramoon and similar planets had one of the highest birth rates of magic we had ever seen. They were more powerful at birth and with a higher magical ratio than anything else. But the society was so bent on war, on using magic to gain powerful, that it was impossible to work with. They only wanted witches trained as warriors, and wanted intelligence known. We thought we could build a warrior academy…perhaps you would have gone, had we succeeded,” he smiled at Nathaniel. “But it collapsed in on itself and the project was abandoned.”

“Similar planets?” Nathaniel asked. “Such as Powys?”

“It's possible,” Desmond said. “But there is only one survivor of Powys to ask that.”

“Does that mean we are dealing with more than advance weaponry and a threatening civil war?” Nathaniel asked, forgoing conversation about Prada for now. “We could be dealing with a planet full of powerful witches?”

“Who may or may not show us an alliance,” Desmond said. “They shut off all communication after I left, who knows what they have become.”

“Huh,” Nathaniel took a moment to take it all in. “That is not what I was expecting you to say.”

“It's dangerous, which is why you and your Tiro were assigned,” Desmond said.

“How powerful are they?” Sienna asked, and he turned to her,.

“Not like you, little one. No one was like you.”

“Until Prada,” Sienna said.

“Until Prada,” Desmond answered. “But this is a good opportunity, none the less. If we can succeed, we might be able to unite the universe once more.”

“And our chances of success” Nathaniel asked.

“Almost zero,” Desmond said. “They threatened Jeffro more than once, and you know that you need a lot of courage to threaten Jeffro.”

“Creator,” Nathaniel swore. “This is much bigger than I thought.”

“And if we don't go, they blow us all up,” Sienna said. “And no one has a chance of surviving.”

“That was how I heard the story,” Nathaniel answered. “So, the question is, are both of you up for it?”

“Yes,” they both said without so much as a blink.

“Well, that was easy,” Nathaniel said. “Now, all I have to do is get Prada to not blow us up beforehand.”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” Desmond said. “When do we leave?”

“Shortly, I imagine,” Nathaniel said. “Eliza, as usual, has offered so much support in terms of military assistance, but I think it's best we leave those here. We don't want to go in looking like a threat.”

“How long are the Jurors thinking?” Sienna asked. “I know it sounds odd, to rush in and save the universe...but I need to know when I'll get back.”

“Is Devon not stable?” Nathaniel asked. She looked away.

“He is,” she said. “But in case…anyone decides to interfere.”

“Why would anyone interfere?” he asked her. “Eliza is dedicated to your wishes.”

“Just in case...” she took a deep breath. “I know that...I know that it might drain Prada's magic for a short time...but could you ask her to try? To heal him? Even a bit?”

“I can't risk it, love, “ he said. “Not when we're about to walk into a combat zone and we have ...non witches to protect.”

“Is that what I am?” Sienna asked. “Is that what we are? Just non witches?”

“You don't have magic,” Desmond said, patiently. “And Nathaniel needs to keep you safe. If Devon is stable, he can wait.”

“I can't,” she said, but had already resigned herself to know that she had to. “I'll pack.”

“Make sure you are packed for several weeks,” Nathaniel said, without thinking about it. It was something he used to say to her when she was a child, and she smiled at that.

“Yes, Maestro,” she said, getting up and leaving them be. When she was gone, Nathaniel turned to Desmond.

“That boy is dead,” he said, to Desmond. “There is nothing natural happening anymore. It's harsh but…”

“I know,” Desmond said. “But she hasn't come to terms with that. Because she has resurrection powers, she doesn't quite understand death. She doesn't come to terms with it because she doesn't have to, in her world.”

“Surely, she understands her own death!” Nathaniel said. Desmond shook his head.

“But don't you understand what we did to her? How many times we brought her back from death? She has a feeling of immortality.”

“She knows she can die.”

“We taught her that she can't,” Desmond said. “That is something that has a lasting effect on a person.”

Nathaniel closed his eyes.

“And that's not even beginning to address…Prada.”

“Your Tiro actually reminds me of the types of Tiros we found on Dramoon,” Desmond said. “Powerful. Angry. Afraid.”

“Afraid?” Nathaniel asked. “Afraid of what?”

“Outsiders. Losing their culture. Losing their power. I'd never met a people so afraid of change in that way.”

“But that's not why Prada is damaged,” Nathaniel said. “Her family was slaughtered. She was terrified. She was tortured.”

“I'm aware,” Desmond said. “Children on Dramoon and similar cultures were often snatched and sold for their power. Their families, which would have shared their genres of magic, would be taken together, and if they didn't comply, they would have faced terrible lives. Until they were killed.”

“You think…you think that was her home?”

“I don't know,” Desmond answered. “But I'm willing to bet it was a similar situation.”

“Do you think it's safe to bring her there, then?” Nathaniel asked, unsure suddenly of his next move.

“I think it might bring her some closure,” Desmond said. “Your Tiro is very complicated though, I can't pretend to understand what might be going on in her mind. Only you can.”

“And I don't get very far on a good day,” Nathaniel said.

“Part of training your Tiro is exposing them to new situations,” Desmond said. “It has them grow as a witch. And if they can't handle it in training, they won't be able to make it on their own.”

“Harsh but true,” Nathaniel said. Both of them fell into silence for a while, until Nathaniel decided to change the subject. “How is Mariah?”

“She is well,” Desmond said. “Surprisingly, understanding about the sudden request. She told me to go without hesitation”

“Perhaps she wants a break from you,” Nathaniel teased. “That's why Eliza and I have such a relationship. It's easier to take breaks from each other.”

Desmond cocked an eyebrow.

“Is it?” he asked. “You don't long to be on that throne with her, yet?”

“Do you…Prada said something to me today that has stuck,” he said. “She said that when you know your path, you cannot deviate it from it.”

“That is true,” Desmond said. “She is wise, then.”

“Well, she may be wise, but right now, she's in trouble,” he said. “What happened with Sienna was not an accident. It wasn't trauma. It was anger. And she will not behave like that on a quest, not if she wants to continue it.”

“You're doing well, though,” Desmond said. “You have to believe that. You are doing well. You weren't given an easy task in life, Nathaniel, and you have handed it with grace and dignity”

“So, threatening to ground her for three months is not advisable?” Nathaniel half-joked. But Desmond was serious.

“Not everyone was meant to be a Tiro,” he said. “You've seen it with Sienna, with my former Tiro Reynolds. They don't all make it to the tests.”

“That's what the hardest thing about all of this is,” he answered. “She would make the perfect warrior. She would be in the textbooks, go down in history.”

“As we will,” Desmond said. “And as Sienna will. It's not always a kind thing.”

“All I can do is continue,” Nathaniel said and Desmond agreed.

“For now,” he said. “And I'm not encouraging you to suddenly give up. But I do think you should keep those things in mind.”

“Mm.” Nathaniel stood up. “You should get ready to leave. I'll see Eliza about a ship. We came in here on cargo, but I think it's pretty clear that we will need are own vessel…”

“Just like old times,” Desmond said.

Except it wasn't like old times, Nathaniel thought as he went down the hall.

He didn't appreciate scolding Prada, he really didn't. He felt like he spent most of their time together scolding her ,rather than teaching her. She loved magic, she loved fighting, like Sienna had. But it was in a much different way, and it was a way that frightened him often. He felt like her control was slipping through his fingers.

She wasn't in her room, which bothered him. He closed his eyes, pinging her.

Prada, he thought, strongly. Even though she didn't answer him, he locked onto her right away.

She was in the med bay.

He tore down the hallway, wondering what the hell she was up to.

What he found sent chills down his spine. She was standing over Devon's medicated body, watching his chest rise and fall. Her back was to him and he spoke quickly.

“Prada, what are you doing?” he asked, stepping through the door way.

She turned to him, and to his relief, there was no magic on her hands.

“I told you to stay in your room.”

“I'm not going to do it,” she said.

“What?” he asked. “You're not going to do what?”

“I'm not going to heal him,” Prada said. “I don't even know if I can, but I'm not going to try.”

How she knew he wanted to ask didn't bother him. She was so tapped into his thoughts that he often didn't have to form coherent ones in battle.

“That's not what we're doing right now,” he said. “We're leaving for this quest and we can deal with this when we get back.”

“But I'm not going to do it,” she said, and he sighed.

“Why not? Why would you not want to give someone their life back?”

“Because that's not his path,” she said. “He lived a full life, and he was probably happy when he slipped away. If I bring him back, who knows what horrors he might experience in life? This is his path, and he was not strong enough to survive the world. This is survival of the fittest.”

“That's…not…” he was at a los for words. “That is not for you to decide, Prada.”

“They chose their path, Maestro,” she said. “And now they don't want to live it. Just because you saved your Tiro a thousand times over does not meant I should do that same. I don't have to follow your path.”

“No,” he said. “You do not. But you do have to act with compassion.”

“I am,” she said. “My choice is compassion. Her choice of keeping him alive is not. I won't do it.”

He quivered with anger.

“Prada, you will do what I tell you,” he said. “As your Maestro, I make the choices for you until you take the tests.”

“I know,” Prada said. “I know.”

Chapter 6

“I thought you were staying the night,” Eliza said in surprise, when he went to say goodbye to her. “My love, you must exhausted.”

“I think even my twenty-year-old self would have been past exhausted at this point,” he replied. “But hopefully, this will be a large lead up with little to no excitement.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I need you to come back.”

“Of course, love,” he said, but she gave a little cough to get his attention. “Hmm?”

“I don't just want you to come back because I love you,” she said. “Although that is a reason.”

“Why do you want me to come back then?” he asked, thinking she was just teasing.

“I thought you might fancy being a prince,” she said.

His jaw dropped.

“I'm sorry?” he asked. “Eliza? What are you talking about?”

She sank onto the bed, glancing to make sure her grand bedroom door was closed.

“Having Sienna and Devon here...seeing Desmond and Mariah, all of them having took such courage for their love...it made me realize that marrying a witch would not be nearly as frowned upon as a mass exodus. My people would not like it...but they would get it over it and accept you. Life is short, and it grows shorter every day. I do not want to waste another day of it.”

He had nothing to say, sinking onto the bed beside her. “Are you serious? Do you know what I would have to do?”

“You would have to leave the order,” she said, as if it were matter of fact. “And I would risk my throne and change my bloodline, from Jeffro only to diversify, possibly providing the future Kings of Jeffro with magic, which means they could not sit on the throne. I am aware,” she said. “But I'd like to do it, anyways. If you would.”

He put a hand up to her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. She was so beautiful, with plump pink lips, perfect skin, and long blond hair that he loved to tangle his hands in. He had loved her since the moment he met her. What baffled him was he always thought that they were on the same page. Some days, they talked about this wishfully, and some days they talked about knowing it could never happened. They had long ago decided that they weren't going to take this route any time soon and probably not ever.

“I know you know it's time. It's now or never. If we want to have children, we don't have much time.”

“I know,” he said. “I know. I just...I can't decide right now. And Prada has another three years on her training…”

“Three years will be too late,” she said.

“I know.” He buried his head in his hands. “Oh, Eliza, my love. I want to say yes so badly. But...”

“Go,” she said. “Go on your quest, whatever you decide will not affect that. You have a universe to save.”

“I always have a universe to save.” He stood up, kissing her on the head. “But I promise you I will be back soon, one way or another.”

“I love you,” she whispered to him.

“I love you, too,” he said, taking every ounce of willpower to leave the room.

His head was spinning as he met the others in the hanger. He tried to put on a serene face, but Desmond knew right away that there was something wrong.

“Should we discuss it?”

“Nope,” Nathaniel said. “Not unless you want Prada to screech the whole trip and Sienna to talk about fairy tales”

“Works for me,” Desmond answered, indicating the gangplank. “Think of food.”

“What?” he asked.

“If you think of food, they won't dive any deeper into your thoughts,” he said, and Nathaniel managed a smile.

“That's your trick, is it?” Nathaniel asked.

“Works every time,” Desmond said, as the gangplank came up. “I've told Sienna that she should start the IVs to block her magic from the wound, but she doesn't seem to want to.”

“I'd really prefer she be strong for this,” Nathaniel said. “But she's not our Tiro anymore. We can't force her into anything.”

“You can ask her, though,” Desmond said. Nathaniel sighed.

“Perhaps right now, I'll just make sure she and Prada don't kill each other,” he said. “Prada's a decent pilot, so I'll see if she wants to take over for now. I'm exhausted, by the way.”

“Did you come in today?” Desmond asked.

“We did, and it wasn't the easiest journey. But when you have a one Maestro to Tiro ratio, you don't have time off.”

“Call me if you need me,” Desmond said. “I'll remind you that I'm just a consultant on this.”

“Thank you, Maestro,” Nathaniel rolled his eyes as he went to find his Tiro.

It was another twelve hours to Dramoon, and he was grateful for the fact that he knew Desmond could pilot, as well as the fact that most of the approach to Dramoon was easy flying.

Prada was up front, already in the pilot's seat. He didn't say anything to her as he sank into the co-pilot's seat, checking her navigation route. As usual, it was spot on.

She was so smart, and such a perfectionist. Her value came in more than just brute strength. She would make one of the best witches there ever had been, if she could learn control.

“It's fine,” he said, to her silent demeanor. “You can lock it in.”

She began the process of locking the ship down, and making sure everyone was inside before she began take off. He barely needed to touch the controls, leaning back as they went into hyperspace.

Only when they were cruising did he speak.

“You can't do that again,” he said to her.

“Do what?” Prada asked, playing innocent

“Hurt Sienna. Or hurt anyone who is unharmed. That's a cardinal sin, Prada, and you know it. You can never use your magic for such causes , unless you want to cross the line.”

“You spent ten years training a Tiro who amounted to nothing,” Prada said to him., staring ahead at the space flashed by. “And now my training is affected by her still.”

“Your training is not affected by her,” Nathaniel said. “I am telling you not to harm the defenseless.”

“But she is not defenseless,” Prada said. “Is she?”

“No,” Nathaniel said quietly, trying to understand where she was coming from. “She wasn't. But she had chosen a different life, and so she is right now. I don't want an argument about it. It's simply unthinkable that you would argue this.”

“I was defenseless when my family was slaughtered around me,” she said. “How can defend the universe if we operate on a different perspective from them?”

“Because we do not stoop to the lowest common denominator,” he answered. “There are thieves in this world, but it does not mean we shouldn't pay for our meals. We are not murders, we are not soldiers. We are the defenders, the peace keepers, the voices for those who cannot speak for themselves.”

“Ironic, isn't it?” Prada asked him, and he saw a glimpse into her soul at that moment. Here, alone with him, she was free, safe, confident.

If he chose to marry Eliza, he would take all of that away from her.

Unless she could find a path that she felt just as safe on.

He only lasted an hour or two in the co-pilot seat before his eyes started to close. He knew they could safety get six or seven hours of sleep before they needed to take over manually again.

“Come on, Prada,” he said. “Get up and get some rest, or we'll both be useless.”

“No?” she said. “I'm not tired.”

“Again, I'm your Maestro, and I call the shots,” he said. “I promise you no one is going to bother you.”

She gave in to this, getting up stiffly. He made sure they were set on autopilot, and then pointed her toward some of the sleep quarters Reaching out, he could feel that Desmond was asleep.

What was that life like? Without a Tiro to worry about? Comfortable in the knowledge of the next time he would see his love? Relaxing? Not following a strict set of rules that meant his every breath was dedicated to the magic.

It was a life he couldn't even dream of.

Sienna was curled up on a windowsill in the cafeteria, watching the dark sky go by. They were going too fast to see anything useful, but it was still a bit mesmerized

“I remember when you hated space,” he said quietly so as to not startle her. “It was cold, and you didn't like the vastness.”

“I still don't,” she replied. “But I've started to wonder what else is out there.”

“We know what is out there,” Nathaniel replied. “So many others, planets, universes.”

“But what's beyond that?” She asked. “Where do we go when we die? Into the magic, yes, but where? Is there other consciousness?”

“We just go into the magic,” he answered.. “We are all around.”

“Are we?” she asked, picking at a thread on her skirt. “Even for those of us who don't have magic any =more?”

“Sienna,” he said, softly. “We are not immortal.”

“We can be,” she said, her eyes dazzling as they whizzed passed a sun. “If I could have figured out how to contain my magic to...”

“No, little one,” he said. “We are not meant to be immortal. That goes against Nature.”

“So did I,” she said.

He sighed.

“You defied all the odds,” he said. “And now we're going to do it again in Dramoon, hmm?”

“Yes,” she said, after a moment. “If we can.”

“We will,” he assured her. “Think of it as another adventure. Another quest. But you have to stay strong, all right? We will all be in danger if you are weak. We can fight, Prada and I, but no one can communicate with them. We need you.”

“What do you think would have happened?” she asked. “If Desmond had set up a school there, for warriors?”

“I don't know,” he said. “Whether we would have had a whole generation of witches who were little more than soldiers or whether it would have united the galaxy. I guess is wasn't a path we were meant to take. How's your arm?”

“It's all right,” she said, pulling her sleeve down. It made him suspicious, and he reached out, pulling up her sleeve.

It was indeed, all right. Almost fully healed, which he knew was impossible without magical intervention.

“Sienna!” he cried.

“You wanted me to be strong,” she said. “Besides, I wanted to practice. Just in case you needed me.”

“That's not why you are practicing,” he said.

“Nathaniel, I'm fine,” she said. “Really, I feel fine.”

“That's because the meds are still in your system,” he said. “You may not remember what it was like, Sienna, you were young…but I remember how terrible it was.”

“I remember how terrible it was,” she said. “I remember throwing up throughout half my childhood. I'm not eager to repeat it.”

“Good,” he said. “Then trust we can take care of you, one last time.”

“One last time.” She smiled. “I will treasure that.”

Chapter 7

“MAESTRO!”

“AH!” Nathaniel sat bolt upright. “Sienna. Prada. What?”

Desmond was the one leaning on his door way, with a smile.

“I just thought I'd do that to you, and see what happened.”

“Have I mentioned lately that I despise you?” Nathaniel rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What do you want?”

“We're here,” Desmond said. “Landed a few minutes ago, in a field, and so far our presence has gone unnoticed. But we may want to exit soon to not look like we are doing anything suspicious.”

“Why didn't you wake me sooner?” Nathaniel asked, still groggy. “Ugh. I need to…Are they all right?”

“As far as I know,” Desmond said. “I haven't seen your new one in an hour or so, but Sienna was taking a shower and eating breakfast.”

“Remember when getting her to eat breakfast was a civil war?” Nathaniel answered, as he threw off the blankets. “Those were the days when life was simpler in a way.”

“Simpler?” Desmond said in surprise “I hate to ask what you are currently going through if that was a simpler time.”

Nathaniel ran a hand over his face with a sigh.

“I suppose that you should know,” he replied. “Eliza asked me to take the throne with her.”

“Of course, she did,” Desmond answered. “She's been waiting to do that for years.”

“No,” Nathaniel said. “We had an agreement and she's thrown everything up in the air now.”

“What are you going to do?” the older Maestro asked.

“I don't know,” Nathaniel admitted.

“Well, until you figure it out, there's no point in sitting around,” Desmond said, as if it was a simple choice. “Come on.”

“Can you—” Nathaniel felt like he'd never get enough sleep. “Make sure Prada's eaten and packed and is stable enough to go?”

“You mean make sure she's not going throw a tantrum?” He raised an eyebrow. “She's a bit old for that.”

“You'd think,” Nathaniel answered. “Please?”

“This one time,” Desmond said to his former Tiro. “Ten minutes.”

“Uh-huh.” Nathaniel resisted the urge to fall back onto the pillow, yawning as he got up. He must be getting old, because he remembered days when he go three nights with no sleep. Now, six hours felt like a catnap.

He managed to shower and put his rut sack back together in record time, before joining the others at the back door. Everyone else looked well rested and calm, although Prada found his other side quickly, avoiding Sienna. Nathaniel chose to ignore this, instead pointing Sienna to the middle, in between him and Desmond. It was a position she took often in her youth, in between her two warrior Maestros.

“There's no one out there,” she said, more of a fact than a complaint. “We scanned the area twice.”

“That's good,” Nathaniel answered. “But they could still be coming, so stay on guard.”

“Ready?” Desmond asked and Nathaniel nodded. He pressed the red button and the gangplank lowered.

Dramoon was a puzzling planet, with many different temperatures, depending on the rotation, all of them harsh. Nathaniel sucked in a breath at the cold they weren't expecting, and took the first steps down the gangplank.

It seemed like an easy enough descent There was a vastness that was unsettling to him as they walked onto the solid ground. It felt too empty.

“Do you think—” he started to Desmond, when he suddenly felt a disturbance in the magic.

Out of nowhere, beings began appearing. They had been using magical cloaking that was far advanced to any of them. It was a combat technique that Nathaniel had only dreamed of.

But right now, he dreamed of escaping this.

There were at least fifty of them suddenly surrounding them. And with shoulders tense, and hands up, they didn't come in peace.

“We're here to help,” Sienna spoke right away. She knew that her accent wasn't perfect, but she felt confident and fluent, and even elated to be using what she thought was a useless root language to learn. “We are witches.”

They stopped, staring at her.

“We are witches,” she repeated.

“You are keepers of magic without use,” came the reply. “You will not stray us from our path.”

And then the first one shot magic at them.

This was a level of magic and a strength that was not often seen. They didn't often fight other witches. In their combat training, while they did spar with each other, they usually fought technology, guns, weapons of destruction.

Nathaniel slammed his hand onto Sienna's shoulder, shoving her to the ground as he blocked the blast. Desmond moved to her side, his magic ready after years of lying dormant.

It came back to him like riding a bicycle. Fighting with Nathaniel was something he would never forget. They were two of the greatest warriors in the history of witches.

Prada, though, was something he was not prepared for. For every move that Nathaniel made, she made one twice as powerful. It was as if he could set her up for every single shot that led to a killing blow for her.

Prada, Desmond realized, with a sinking pit in his stomach, didn't need any of them. And she didn't feel any remorse, any emotion at all, from taking life after life.

They weren't supposed to take a life unless they absolutely had to. They were supposed to defend, and only kill when absolutely necessary.

Prada clearly thought every moment was a time to kill.

Desmond had never seen her power in action quite like this before. She and Nathaniel were clearly made to work together, and after a moment or two, he hung back, acting defenseless rather than offensively.

Wound only, he heard Nathaniel shout to Prada, who ignored him. WOUND, TIRO.

Prada got the message and pulled back at last, although she didn't seem happy about it.

It was over before Desmond even had time to judge what had happened. It was as if to Prada, they hadn't been in the middle of a life or death battle. It was as if they had just been in the middle of a normal day, and she had stopped to take care of a few bugs.

“Check which ones you left alive,” Nathaniel said, with a tone in his voice that told Desmond he had dealt with this more than once. Prada moved forward, checking pulses without blinking. Magic killed without a trace, if done right. And Desmond could see not even a scorch mark on them. She was an expert, better than those twice her age.

Being an expert in killing was not something that any witch should be proud of.

“Are you all right?” Nathaniel turned to Sienna, who shakily stood.

“I could have helped,” she said.

“No.” Nathaniel looked straight are her. “Your skill is languages, that is where we need you.”

“I was just as powerful as her,” Sienna said, and Desmond touched her arm gently.

“Focus, little one,” he said, softly and she quieted down.

Prada returned to Nathaniel, meeting his eyes. Her own were cold, as if she was not affected at all by the lives that she had taken, robbing Nature of them.

She held up her hand, indicating five fingers.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.

“You killed five?”

She shook her head.

“She left five alive,” Sienna said slowly, and Desmond looked down. Her fingers were twitching and he knew what she was thinking.

Sienna didn't like death of any kind. Not witches, animals or flowers. Healing was one thing, but resurrection was a whole different matter. Resurrection not only made her sick, but also opened portals to the dead. It was a dangerous game.

“They are gone,” Desmond said to her, quietly. “Send regrets to Nature.”

“Bring me to the ones who are alive,” Nathaniel said, and Prada dutifully led him forward. “Sienna?”

“Mm hmm,” she managed, moving forward.

One of the damaged witches was awakening, his eyes clouded. Sienna had trouble getting the words out, especially given the destruction they had just caused.

“We need to speak to your leader,” she managed. “We will speak for the universe about your plans for peace.”

“The age of the witches are here,” he spat to her. “We will bring this universe to a society that can operate together, under our rule.”

She paused, trying to think.

“We already do that…

“Your way of magic controls nothing,” he managed. “Ours will control all.”

With that, his eyes rolled back. He wasn't dead, but they weren't going to get any information out of him any time soon.

“What did he say?” he asked.

“He… they want control of the universe, like our version of witches have,” she said. “It sounds like they might be making plans. I'm not sure they have the technology that Thomas was alluding to, to be honest. I think they might be using their magic.”

Their magic is weak, Prada echoed in Nathaniel's head.

“Only compared to you,” he answered verbally. “We need to see where their headquarters are, and how many they are. We need to convince them to back down...to work in harmony Or we could be at risk for an age of war. Am I glad you're here,” he turned to Desmond with a smile. “Any tips?”

“Brute force wasn't the technique I used,” Desmond answered. “They do not deal with emotions. They speak very bluntly When I was here, I had a translator, and he only translated the facts. A very different kind of negotiation than we are used to.”

“It should be easier,” Sienna said. “Translating facts is always easier than emotion.”

“He seemed to understand you well enough,” Nathaniel said, and she shrugged.

“It's not a difficult language, actually. It's much like Desmond's description. Facts, easy and safe, clear words.”

“Well, keep doing that,” he said, as they straitened up. “I'm tempted to wait until those who are alive wake up and can lead us but…”

North, Prada said. North and then north east and through the passage.

“Or we could just read their minds,” Nathaniel answered, rolling his eyes. “You aren't supposed to do that without permission, Prada.”

What difference does it make? she asked. It's just facts, in their minds.

She led the way, showing no signs of cold or fear as they moved forward.

Nathaniel followed her, feeling her magical ping to bring him closer. She wanted him to stay close, in case they were attacked again, and so she could communicate if needed.

His Tiro did seem so cold and ruthless, but he knew that underneath she was lost, learning and frightened.

If he left her, there would be no one she could communicate with.

It wasn't something that lay easily on his mind.

But even now, he wondered what Eliza was doing, and thought about how much easier it would be to be sitting beside her.

It was more than just the warmth and the fact that he would be safer, quieter.

It was the fact that on that throne, he could potentially serve and save more lives than these individual visits. They did take on large quests like Dramoon, but sometimes they took on smaller, quieter quests that only affected a person or two.

Was his calling the high throne? He felt like he had failed with two Tiros now.

He didn't know, but he needed to make sure his head was here, keeping his team safe. Otherwise, there was no point in thinking about the future.

They walked through the cold, Prada leading the way from the directions she had gleaned from the warrior witches.

It was only when they came upon a huge gleaming building did they realize what they were dealing with.

“It looks like school,” Sienna said. “It looks exactly like the school.”

“They did build another one,” Desmond half-marveled “Without me, without our training, without our approval. So, what are they up to in there?”

“Only one way to find out,” Nathaniel said, approaching the door. “Let's invite ourselves in.”

Chapter 8

Walking through the front doors was easy for Nathaniel and Prada. But despite the fact that the doors were wide open and there seemed no one there to stop them. But Sienna stopped, as if there was an invisible force field.

“Ack,” she said. “Maestro?”

“It's a spell,” Desmond said. “It's barring those who don't have magic from entering.”

He was able to step back and force without difficult, and Sienna drew a deep breath.

“I can give them enough magic to go through,” she said, drawing her shoulders up.

“No,” Nathaniel said. “You will not.”

“Then do you suppose I just shout through the walls?” Sienna asked. “You need me. It's not going to hurt me, Maestro. And I need to practice anyways. For Devon.”

“Sienna…”

“Nathaniel,” Desmond, ever the voice of reason, spoke up, “she's with the two of us, we've dealt with this before. It's fine.”

“I'll be fine,” Sienna protested.

Perhaps I'll just go alone and you can stay here debating? Prada's voice came in his head. Are you here to work?

Prada, you will let me set the schedule for this, he whipped around. Her magic flared in her eyes.

We need to be vigilant, especially if we need to attack again.

This is a school, Tiro. We don't attack.

This is their school. They might attack if they see fit.

He turned back to Sienna, trying not to answer Prada.

“All right,” he said. “Minimal amounts. Come through.”

She closed her eyes, forcing her magic up through her veins It came through easier than Nathaniel thought it would, and it made him realize that she was not at all keeping up with her medication.

She was preparing for a full return to her magic, which would kill her in short order if she wasn't careful.

She stepped through the open door with ease, and he saw Prada's eyes widened slightly as she felt the power off Sienna.

His young Tiro said nothing, but he knew she was impressed.

Her feelings lasted only a moment, because Sienna only made it three steps before she wavered

Desmond and Nathaniel had spent years dealing with this kind of weakness. Desmond reached out to grab her before she fell, and Nathaniel stepped into her side, bracing against her.

“I'm all right,” she protested, breathless. “I'm all right. I'm all right.”

Prada snorted, turning around. She had no patience for those who were weak, that much was clear.

“And that is why you don't use magic, hmm?” Nathaniel asked, after a moment. “Prada, stop walking.”

She turned around, but she didn't do it patiently.

Finally, Sienna straightened, nodding.

“All right,” she answered, although she didn't seem too keen on responding to their inquires about magic.

“This is eerie,” Desmond said as they looked around. “It looks like ours, down to the last point.”

“Which means someone has been inside ours,” Nathaniel said. “And then came here.”

“Yes, of course,” Desmond answered. “There were many of us who worked on this project, before they made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with it.”

“Who else was here?” Nathaniel asked as they walked. It seemed as if no one was bothering them. No one even knew they were there. It was almost as if there was no one there.

“No one who is still alive,” Desmond answered. “Except for me.”

“Well, then…” Nathaniel said as they turned the corner.

There was a class room, as he knew there would be. As with their own academy back home, there was glass windows.

Inside, it looked identical as well. Young Tiros training in a combat class.

Except for the fact that they were not just sparring.

There were animals in the class with them, wild animals who looked terrified. They had a reason to be terrified, Nathaniel saw quickly, as the young Tiros advanced and then killed them. There used various techniques to end their life, but it was the same outcome. It wasn't long before there were bodies laid out and bleeding, life devoid of them.

The teacher clasped his hands and begun to speak.

“He's congratulating them,” Sienna translated.

“Do you notice they are not all from here?” Desmond said. “They are recruiting witches on their own.”

“It doesn't look like they are recruiting witches,” Nathaniel said. “It looks like they are training an army.”

The teacher looked up then, and his eyes locked on them. They were caught, and they realized they had little plan.

Bring me, Prada said quickly to Nathaniel.

“What?” he asked her in shock. “Bring you where?”

Bring me to them, as a student, she said. It's a good undercover way of moving forward without admitting we broke in. I'm older yes, but…

“I could try,” he said, quickly relaying their plan to the others.

“It might work,” Desmond said just as the door opened.

“What are you doing here?” came the strong voice.

“We are witches,” Sienna said. “And although it is too late for us, we bring you a student who may be of interest.”

The teacher glanced between them and Prada. She was small for her age, and Sienna sucked in her breath at the next question.

“How old is she?”

“Twelve,” Sienna said, pulling several years off Prada's age. The teacher didn't even blink, waiving into the classroom.

“Prove it to us,” he said, and Sienna translated. Desmond had been right. There were no feelings, no wavering. It was do or die.

Sienna had a feeling that it might be die, the way everyone was suddenly staring at them.

She had never been so grateful for her magic blocks as she was now. Despite the fact that she had conjured up a lot of magic a few moments ago, she had been on magical blockers for so long that it was quelled almost right away.

“They want Prada to go inside…They want her to prove that she is of their magic.”

“Do you want me to…?” Nathaniel started and then realized that would blow their cover. He couldn't ask whether she wanted him to come or not. He wasn't supposed to be her Maestro in this scenario.

Luckily, Prada showed no fear and waltzed into the classroom as if she belonged there.

One of the students seemed to understand exactly what was going on. Prada watched as he reached into a bucket, and out came a woofle. They were ugly creatures, with tusks and a rough skin quality. They were considered rodents, pests on just about every planet.

But it's appearance didn't mean it deserved to die.

The student placed it down on the ground and it squealed, panicking.

Prada watched it run in circles twice before she drew back her magic. There was no hesitation, no flicker of remorse.

Before anyone could say anything, all the remained of it were two spots of blood and dust in the air. She hadn't just killed it. She had obliterated it.

Desmond turned in shock to Nathaniel, who took it in stride. It wasn't the first time he had seen her do something like that. It wasn't a thought he treasured, but he had seen it many times before with Prada, and it no longer shocked him.

The things that he had gotten used to over the years almost saddened him.

“Where did you find her?” the teacher asked Sienna, who had to pause and think.

“She… found us. We are outcasts of society.”

His eyes narrowed and she wondered if she had said the wrong word. But then he relaxed and she realized he was simply thinking.

“You were witches?”

“We are magically adapt, some of us more than others. We are not witches,” she outright lied. She hated that she had to, but she didn't want them to think that they were connected to their school. From what she had learned during her training, negotiations were delicate.

Sienna retained enough magic to hide her thoughts for her mind, as he watched her. Then, he pointed to her face.

“You are bleeding.”

“Creator,” she swore out loud, putting her hands to her face. Her nose was starting to gush blood, a surefire sign that the magic was starting to affect her. It didn't hurt, but if she continued down this path, it wouldn't be long before it led to something else going wrong.

“Ask him if we can have access to the med bay,” Nathaniel said behind her. “Please.”

It took her a moment to find the words, but it seemed their permission was easily granted. She marveled at how quickly they had made this plan; and how quickly it had turned from battle to negotiations to undercover.

Of course, it wouldn't remain undercover for long. As soon as news of the witch attack got out near their ship, they would surely be fighting for their lives again.

They had to figure out what was being planned here, and how to possibly find a way to stop it before then.

Even the med bay looked identical Sienna recognized every nook, every crevice. Prada had been rushed along with them, watching everyone's moves as if she was going to sweep in any moment and rip their faces off.

She was terrifying, Sienna thought. In charge of such magic and knowing exactly what she could do with it. She remembered needing that much guidance, that much help. Of course, her life had been a different path, but she had more in common with the young Tiro than she realized.

“We will test your young friend,” the teacher said. “Unless you wish to be tested, as well, you will leave.”

“No!” Sienna cried, a little too swiftly. “We can't leave. She can't…she doesn't speak.”

The teacher raised his eyebrow.

“She doesn't speak?”

“She…” Sienna turned to Nathaniel. “He wants to know why Prada doesn't speak.”

“Any chance you can translate post-traumatic stress disorder?” he asked and she shook her head. “Well, that's why.”

“Trauma?” Sienna turned to Prada. “I don't want to offend. If you could tell me what you prefer…”

Tell her I can defend myself with or without my speech, Prada's words rang in Nathaniel's brain and he raised an eyebrow.

So you want me to go then? he asked. And leave you to get all the information and run the whole quest?

No, Prada was quick to answer.

I didn't think so, he replied, and turned back to Sienna

“Whatever works, little one,” he said.

“She was traumatized at a young age,” Sienna managed. “All she wants is the tools and weapons to fight back. But he is her…Father.”

Once upon a time, she would have said brother. But none of them were as young as they once were.

The teacher didn't think twice about that, and whether or not he believed a blood bond between the pair didn't seem to matter. He nodded.

“Fine. But I'm afraid you two must go.”

“Sienna, tell him we will comply,” Desmond said, obviously remembering some of his Dramoon from years ago. “As soon as you are well.”

“I think that's dangerous,” she replied, but complied with her former Maestro's orders.

They were going to have to split up, which was never recommended on a quest. Staying together meant the age old adage of safety in numbers. Sienna knew there was probably no way around this, at least not for now.

Chapter 9

As soon as her nose stopped bleeding, they were asked to leave. It wasn't with hostility, but Sienna had a feeling that it might be if they were going to stay. They couldn't blow their cover now, not with Nathaniel and Prada so deeply into things. She had no idea what was going to happen to her comrades, but she tried to not show too much emotion as they exited the building.

“And we did so much work to get into there,” she said to Desmond, who at least had the good sense to roll his eyes. “Should we go back to the ship?”

“No, we should stay in the city,” Desmond said. “The last thing I want is to lead them back to the ship. We left some alive, and they are going to remember what happened. We have hours, little one, to figure out what to do.”

“If we get an Inn, I need to call back to Jeffro,” she said.

“Sienna, you shouldn't be here if you are going to be distracted,” Desmond said. “Truly, you have to stay focused. You know what's at stake.”

“I know,” she said. “It just gives me peace of mind to know he's all right for a few more days.”

Desmond picked up on the tone in her voice right away.

“What did Nathaniel tell you?” he asked.

“Huh?” she asked, playing innocent

“What did Nathaniel tell you, about Devon? I know that tone in your voice, Sienna, you don't have to play pretend with me.”

“He said…” she paused. “That Prada could help him.”

Desmond let out a breath at that.

“And you think she's going to?”

“Why wouldn't she?” Sienna asked. “She's a witch, isn't she, and with that power? She'd be cruel not to use it.”

“In case you haven't noticed,” Desmond said. “Prada isn't exactly fond of using her magic for causes that aren't warrior-related.”

“Nathaniel is her Maestro, it doesn't matter what she is interested in.”

“Is that what you think?” Desmond asked. “That Tiros have no right to their own fate?”

“I— no,” she said.

“Was that your experience? Did we make you do things that you didn't want to do?”

“No,” she answered sheepishly. “But you did guide my hand.”

“I think he's guided her hand far more than he wants to,” Desmond replied. “I do not envy the position he's in. And who knows what will happen when they exit the school.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sienna asked.

“I don't know if you could feel it,” Desmond said. “But they were so much like her, in every way. She fits in there. And once she figured that out, Nathaniel may have more that just this quest to deal with.”

“Do you agree with their way of life?” she asked. “With their use of magic?”

He exhaled.

“I don't agree with their threats, certainly. Nor do I agree with the fact that they don't see harm in killing. But everyone sees magic in different ways. And many differ from what our school teaches.”

“Like you did,” Sienna said.

“Like I did,” Desmond answered. “Now, there is no point on dwelling on such a fact when our time is running low. You are our translator, we should focus on finding out information, gaining the locals’ trust. How Nathaniel and Prada will communicate on the inside is no longer in our hands.”

“I do remember the last time we were on a quest to gain local trust,” Sienna said, quietly, looking up at him. It had been the last quest they were ever on. Desmond had ended their training together at the end of it, creating painful feelings between them for years. He had believed it was best, but every once in a while, he wondered if he had done the right thing. Could Sienna become more than she was and they simply gave up? Or was it truly the best choice for everyone?

“As do I,” he said quietly. “I think of it often. But that time is not like this, Sienna. Our lives are separate now, and together in the moment. Shall we live in the moment?”

“We shall,” she agreed, although her mind lingered back to Jeffro. Desmond strode a few feet ahead of her to check the names of buildings, looking for an inn where they could settle their rut sacks down.

Sienna took that opportunity to flex her fingers, drawing magic into them. She knew it was dangerous, but this was a dangerous planet, and she could not walk around unarmed. She needed to be strong and defend herself, and return to Devon. She was his only hope, if Prada chose not to help.

“Here's one,” Desmond called out to her, and she followed him quickly, snaking her magic back up her veins and hoping that he wouldn't notice. She fell into step behind him, exactly as she used to. This time, though, she was braver, stronger than the last time they had been looking for an inn. “Do you want to take the lead on this, then?”

“What's to take?” she asked, shifting into the local language as she asked for two rooms, a meal and a place to meet and greet locals, to have a good time. She was so fluent that Desmond had to take a moment to stop and think. He used to be half-fluent before, when he was working here, but Sienna somehow knew more in her short life than he had picked up in two years of immersion.

“There's a bar or two down the street,” Sienna said, when they were pointed up to their rooms. “We might be able to find out more. But we'd have to make sure to clearly blend in. I get the feeling they aren't too happy about outsiders.”

“You aren't too old to pretend to be training,” he said. “And I know their Academy well enough to be training you.”

Her eyes widened.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “Does it not seem…treasonous to do that?”

“Treasonous?” he asked. “Sienna, we aren't bound by any law anymore.”

“I know, but I still feel like we are bound by their rules. I at least want them to approve.”

“To approve?” He smiled. “Where did I go wrong with you?” he asked.

She laughed at that, leaning against the door frame.

“Nathaniel wants to sit on the Jurors in his old age.”

“Yes, I've yet to figure out where I went wrong with that one, too,” Desmond said. They fell into silence for a moment, until Sienna asked him a difficult question.

“Maestro, do you think that what they are doing is so wrong?”

“What do you mean?” He searched her face.

“We've always been on about the fact that there are different paths that we could take. That different paths are not necessarily wrong ones. They are violent, Maestro, yes, but we can be so violent, too.”

“Sienna,” Desmond said, softly. “You couldn't have joined them. I know you wanted to be a warrior, but your health would not have supported either path.”

“I know,” she said. “I know, I wasn't thinking that. But Prada…has Nathaniel told you all the issues he's had with her?”

“I wouldn't call them issues,” Desmond said. “Nathaniel is doing the very best he can with a difficult situation.”

“Like you did with me,” she said softly.

“Like we did with you,” he said. “You think this could be the best path for Prada?”

“She just…seems so much like them,” Sienna said. “At their core. Obviously, I don't support threatening to blow the rest of the galaxy to oblivion”

“I'm sure she'd appreciate hearing that from you,” Desmond said, without sarcasm. “Prada is not having the easiest time adapting when she's different from everyone else. You can understand that.”

“She doesn't like me,” Sienna said. “She's made that clear.”

“She may not be kind to you,” Desmond said. “And that's what Nathaniel needs to deal with. But she would appreciate hearing it.”

“Mm,” Sienna said. “Why don't I put down my things and then we'll go out and see what information we can gather?”

“Look at you, planning a quest,” Desmond said. “You have come far.”

“Just too late,” she said, heading into her room and Desmond sighed.

But as he unpacked, taking a few items out of his rut sack, her words rang true to him.

Could it be that they didn't mean harm? That they had the message wrong? Were they just trying to walk a different path and be accepted?

It was impossible to know, at least right now. He wished he could reached out to Nathaniel, to check on him. He had to trust that his former Tiro knew what he was doing.

Neither of them had very many items with them, and they met a few moments later. Sienna had changed into leggings and a tunic, her hair up and her face bare. Desmond was overcome with memories, watching her as she walked down the hall. He remembered the early days, when they could barely get through a day without a medical emergency. He couldn't count how many hours he had spent holding her hair back as she threw up, catching her as she fainted, and running down the hallway with her limp body, begging Nature to let him make it to the med bay in time. He remembered the good times as well, her laughter, her triumphs with magic, with language and with acceptance. All of those years melded together to the young woman walking beside him, and it seemed a miracle that she was here at all, yet alone self-sufficient and happy.

Or at least, she was until Devon began slipping. Now, he was worried all those years would coming bursting back in one choice she might make. He would do anything to change that, to have her slip back to where she used to be.

“Maestro” she turned to him suddenly. “What are you thinking?”

“How to feed you,” he admitted and she laughed.

“I have figured that out,” she said. “How to eat in odd places. It's not as bad now that the magic is blocked. I'm sure I can figure something out.”

“Blend in,” he reminded me as they got onto the street.

“Do you think…that the threat is not to the universe at all?” she asked. Desmond raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“What would our school do if we heard about others using magic, but not in a way that we agreed with? We've been on quests like that before. Quests where we've stopped magical users when we thought their ways were wrong.”

“Like Reynolds,” Desmond said, reminding her of his old Tiro, that had chosen a dark path.

“Like Reynolds,” she said softly. “We went in and we stopped them.”

“You think they might be coming to our school?”

“It might be more than that,” she said. “They might have planned for Nathaniel and Prada to be here all along. Who else would the school send when there was such a threat, but the two greatest warriors in the system? And who else would they want, but Prada under their watch?”

“And you,” Desmond said. “You who had so much power.”

“I used to have that much power,” she said.

“You still do,” he said. “They may not be aware of the lifestyle you've chosen. And if they are smarter than we think…I'm supposed to be here, too.”

“Do you think we are being watched?”

“It's possible,” Desmond said, drifting closer to her. “Stay close.”

Chapter 10

“Her levels are off the charts,” said the robotic voice of the universal translator application, which spoke almost on top of the Dramoonian leader. “She is in the right place.”

“I thought so,” Nathaniel said, playing along. “But I am concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Prada is not so violent,” Nathaniel said, carefully. “She is very strong, and would be a great warrior. But the reason we stayed away so long…we heard rumors of what your ultimate quest is, to control the galaxy like the other witches, through war. Prada doesn't like violence.”

The Dramoonian looked between Prada and Nathaniel, for a very long time. Nathaniel felt his chest sink and wondered if he had made the wrong choice.

But then the Dramoonian laughed.

“You think we want to control the galaxy?” he asked.

“Isn't that what the threats are?”

“People say things they don't understand. We have to protect our own, with our lives, because they are so powerful, but we don't want total control. We want recognition that those born with such power are meant to live and die in war, that is the purpose nature gave them. And however we can serve—war, peace, intruders who mean harm who land on the planet…” He looked right at Nathaniel and Nathaniel felt his stomach sink. He knew what had happened with their ship. “We will fight to the last breath without a second guess. Because nature will take care of us after we die.”

“That is true...” Nathaniel said.

“So death doesn't matter, the pain doesn't matter, as long as we served nature.”

“Oh,” Nathaniel said, his heart pounding. And then the Dramoonian leader said the fatal words that made him panic.

“This is not the first Tiro of power you've had, Nathaniel.”

They knew his name. They knew his history. They knew everything. Had they planned this?

“What do you mean?”

“The one in here before,” he said. “Sienna was supposed to be the one to change everything.”

“Sienna is sick!” Nathaniel cried. “You saw that, you let her go.”

“Did we?” he asked. “Did we?”

He turned and went away without another word, leaving the two of them alone in the testing room. Nathaniel moved forward, but Prada grabbed his arm.

“Stop,” she said, now that they were alone. “What good will it do?”

“They knew. They knew everything.”

“They also aren't the bad guys,” Prada said. “Did you not hear them?”

“Prada, do you not understand what they want with you?”

“I understand what they want with me,” she said. “I don't understand what they want with Sienna. Isn't her magic gone?”

“It's not gone,” Nathaniel said. “It's blocked She could have it back in a flash if she stopped the drugs she's on. And she's going to do that, to save Devon. Which will kill her.”

“And what will they do with me?” Prada asked him, plainly. “Or does it matter to you?”

“Of course, it matters to me,” he said. “You're my Tiro, Prada, and I'm not going to let them take you. Don't worry.”

“What if I wanted to go?” she asked plainly. His jaw fell open in shock.

“No. This is not the way that magic, that nature, wants.”

“That's not for us to say,” she answered.

“How will you talk to them?” he challenged her and she rolled her eyes.

“I'm just saying that you're more concerned with the past right now.”

“They might be in danger, wherever they've been thrown,” Nathaniel said.

“So reach out, they know everything, anyway,” Prada said, and he realized that she was right.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the bond that he once had. He couldn't reach Sienna and he wouldn't dare try. But he could reach Desmond after an attempt or two.

They know who we are. They want Sienna.

I know, Desmond's thoughts came back. Are you safe?

Right now, Nathaniel managed. Stay safe. Don't come back.

We will do what we must.

Awesome, Nathaniel replied, breaking the link as he turned back to Prada. She was watching him patiently, and he noticed that she was a step away from him than she usually was. Her mind was calm, taking in her surroundings That was not normal for Prada. She wasn't physically clingy like Sienna, but mentally, she couldn't communicate with anyone else. She didn't feel comfortable with anyone else.

“They know already,” he said. “I don't know what they are doing, but they must have a plan of their own.”

“And what are we going to do?” Prada asked. “Because we may be great warriors but there are more of them, and they are at least on equal level with us. We can't win, Nathaniel. And I don't think they are going to let us walk out if they indeed to have us here.”

“There's only one thing to do, then,” he said. “Blend in. We need to meet them, talk to them, get a deeper understanding of what's happening.”

“That translator app is terrible, though,” she said, and he laughed.

“It's not so bad. When I was your age, we were lucky if every second word was right in a universal translator.”

“Still, understanding is very important in a situation like this.”

“Oh, you'd prefer a real life translator?” he teased her. “Like the one who had who walked away who you don't like.”

Prada glared at him, but only for a moment. Then, a question came through her lips.

“Was it always like that?” she asked.

“Like what?” Nathaniel asked.

“With Sienna, being sick?”

“Yes,” he said. “You know that.”

“I've never seen it though,” she said. “Why did you stick with it?”

“Prada!” he said in horror. “What a question.”

“But why?” she asked.

“Because she was my Tiro, Prada, and I wasn't going to walk away until she wanted it.”

“Oh,” Prada said, looking at her shoes. “I see.”

“I'm glad it took you that many years to see something I've been telling you all along,” he said. “And to see that it's the same with you, Tiro.”

She said nothing to that for a moment and then advanced toward the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To meet everyone,” she said. “They aren't going to let us leave, but they will probably let us explore, in the hopes that we like this place.”

“That's my problem,” he said, but followed her out the door.

The similarities to their academy were frightening, but Nathaniel managed to get over it soon enough as they walked. Prada was right about the fact that they wanted them to explore, he could feel it in the thoughts of everyone watching them.

They watched classes. They watched practices. They watched meal times. The differences were in the power, in the teaching. But if they just looked at the Tiros, at the Maestros, at the magic in the air, everything was the same.

What fascinated Prada was how comfortable she felt with that level of magic flowing around her. She no longer felt like an outcast, a stranger. No one was staring at her. No one was shocked at the amount of magic that ran through her veins. She was stronger than them, but it wasn't by much. Their thoughts flowed easily, their bonds coming as if it were nothing.

These were witches like her, who had been ostracized, told they didn't belong. But they did belong here. Here, she would be accepted.

And while they were violent, she didn't see it as any more violent than the warriors on their greatest quests. Nathaniel had been one of the greatest warriors, and Prada always thought that he had given up for Sienna. How could he give up this thrill, this power, to train such a weak little witch?

Weak and yet strong. Prada couldn't think straight, and tried to quiet her thoughts to listen to others. Her Maestro seemed deep in thought himself.

He couldn't shake the idea of a threat from his mind, but the more he watched, the more he thought that their words might be truth. Maybe they did just want their way of power recognized; in the hope that they would also get to serve Nature. But something seemed off, the more he watched.

Prada, he said, quietly with his mind. Prada, I think they are training for something.

They are, she said, reminding him that she was much more powerful than he would ever be. There is a threat. But it's not in the galaxy.

Prada… he thought, hearing the thoughts before they were fully formed. They want to take down our school.

Takeover, she said. That's what they want us for. Live or die, as long as you will serve the magic. And if we don't serve them...

She didn't need to finish the sentence. With two against a whole army, they would die if they didn't do as they said.

Why are Desmond and Sienna on the planet, walking free? Nathaniel urged her.

I don't know, she thought, searching the air. But he could see there was something in her face.

Prada! He threatened.

She sighed.

I think they won't be free for much longer, Prada said. It was a rouse, to split us up.

Desmond! Nathaniel broke his bond with Prada to reach out to his former Maestro. Desmond!

There was no answer and Nathaniel began to panic. He closed his eyes, pushing his thoughts, but there wasn't an answer. He had one last option, and he hated it.

Sienna, he tried.

Maestro, she answered right away. Nathaniel simultaneously wanted to yell at her and thank her.

You and Desmond are in danger. You will be hostages.

Over my dead body, Sienna's voice came and then there was silence.

“Do you like our school?” the Dramoonian leader asked, coming up behind them. Nathaniel tried not to jump several feet in the air.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “We don't want to fight in your war.”

“It's your war, too,” the alien said through the translator. “After all, Nathaniel, you've been contributing to it.”

“What are you talking about?” Nathaniel said. “I never—”

“These girls that you train, the boy that Desmond trained—”

“Reynolds?” Nathaniel asked. “Reynolds is nowhere near as powerful as these girls.”

“But he did choose a different path. As you will, when you see our power. When you see our way. Come this way.”

“What?” Nathaniel asked, stepping back toward Prada. She could blow this entire place to Kingdom Come at any moment, but despite being a warrior, he didn't resort to violence at a first resort. “We aren't going anywhere.”

“You don't want to go home?” the Dramoonian leader asked. “Back to your Academy?”

“I have a feeling we don't have a choice.”

“No,” he said. “But you will see it in a different way. The ship bay is this way.”

“Fantastic.” Nathaniel knew they didn't have a choice, not being outnumbered this much. “Sienna can't do magic. You need to leave her in peace. She and Desmond are not part of the order anymore.”

“That can be rectified.” Nathaniel had a feeling that they weren't going to be on this ship alone. Prada was right, it had been a ruse. Together, the four of them would be a force to be reckoned with. But by splitting them up and putting them on the ship separately, they couldn't launch an attack without bringing the whole ship down.

This was tactic at its most brilliant, something that he would have been praised for planning.

“Come on, Prada,” he said. “Do as the nice man says. Let's go.”

Or we could…

Or we could do nothing, because we are peacekeepers, Nathaniel hadn't thought it possible to think through clenched teeth, but Prada taught him every day that new things were possible. Prada rolled her eyes, but followed his lead as they were taken to the ships.

It was a large ship they were loaded into, practically as hostages, but that didn't worry him. What worried him was the amount of ships around them that were also being loaded.

They were planning a full-scale attack, indeed. Their quest was going to be considered a failure, unless they could figure something out in the air.

“How did you know Sienna had power?” Nathaniel turned around to ask. “How did you find her?”

The alien paused, listening for the translator.

“Rumors of Sienna's power have always been. But her signature appeared on Jeffro five months ago.”

When Devon had fallen ill, Nathaniel realized. By trying to save the love of her life, she had doomed herself.

Chapter 11

“Maestro…” Sienna started her sentence, but she could already see that it was too late. Before she could say anything, there was what seemed like half an army upon them. Sienna realized that they had been cloaked, which bothered her. She should have been able to sense that, had she had magic in full working order.

How many people was she going to put in danger because her magic wasn't in top form?

What did it matter if she died, if everyone else around her was going to die as well?

“Maestro, I can…”

“No.” Desmond knew that they couldn't win with a reasonable chance. This had obviously been planned. “No!” He grabbed Sienna's arm. “Stop. Stop. We will go and go peacefully.”

“Maestro, I can…” she tried again, but he tightened his grip, as a circle of witches surrounded them. They all had their hands raised. What Desmond noticed was that there was no one who stopped to look; stop to help. The entire planet was in on this cause, which was one of the most dangerous situations he had every seen. “But I can.”

“I know you can,” he said. “But you won't, because you're going to see the outcome of this.”

“Bah,” she said, but decided to listen to Desmond, only because she wanted to save all her magic for Devon. “We will go with you, without a fight.”

“Right this way, Madame,” said one of the alien witches, and Sienna noticed that they treated her with respect, as if she was one of them.

They were all of one faith. They all drew their magic from one place. It was the choice of use, and the amount they used that was different.

Maestro, she decided to call to Nathaniel. Maestro. They have us.

Join the club, listen to Desmond, stop using magic, Nathaniel's answer came back, as they were led through the city.

We have to alert to the Academy she sent to Nathaniel. They will be caught completely unaware.

We can't, Nathaniel came back.

We can, she suddenly realized and spoke up as they walked.

“ I work as a translator on Jeffro.” she said. “I am the rank of Baroness. It entitles me to the royal army. If you keep me safe, my Queen will commit her army.”

That stopped them in their tracks, and they looked up at her.

“Why would she do that?”

“It is Jeffro. We protect our own. In exchange for my safety, they will keep me safe. Let me call my Queen.”

There was shuffling between them, and Desmond raised an eyebrow. He was proud of her, for coming up with such a strategy, but he wasn't sure that it was going to be effective. It seemed like such a see-through excuse.

But it was so see-through that it apparently came full circle.

“You can call them on the ship,” came the word and they kept walking.

“Thank you,” Sienna said, looking up at Desmond. That was her plan for getting through to the Academy Eliza would understand the code words that she was using, without a doubt.

But she knew when they landed at the Academy, they would have quite a fight on their hands. And as soon as they were taken aboard the ship, she saw what kind of fight it would be.

The Academy's forces would be matched, probably outmatched. They would need every ounce of fire power to fight this, and there would be many deaths.

There was no pull, no allure of being around those as powerful as she had been. She didn't want to be around them. She didn't want to be a warrior in the way they meant.

As soon as she saw Prada, though, she knew that Prada did. The other girl looked like she had finally found her people. Her eyes were bright and she was taking in every word that they said. She looked more comfortable than Sienna had ever seen her.

“Sienna,” Nathaniel said, as they approached. They were being kept in comfortable quarters, which made Sienna realize that they were valuable hostages. They would either be traded for something as valuable, or forced to fight for this side. “Desmond.”

“This way,” someone grabbed Sienna, pulling her by the arm away.

“STOP,” Nathaniel said, but Sienna put her hand out.

“It's all right,” she said. “They are going to let me call Eliza and ask for the army to attend to me. I am a Baroness.”

Nathaniel's eye brows shot up through his forehead

“Right, of course,” he said. Prada took a step forward then, turning to her Maestro.

Jeffro's army will mean more death, she said.

Jeffro's army will even the playing field. With that kind of firepower, it's possible they will back off.

Maestro, they want recognition. They want peace. They want to serve.

“Prada!” he spoke out loud, snapping at her. Her eyes widened, and she quieted down in her mind.

Sienna was led away, and the three of them were left alone, inside the small room. It was sort of a private lounge, but looking around, anyone could see that it was heavily armored. They wouldn't be able to escape by any sort of force, and there was no doubt that there were several guards outside the door.

“Jeffro's army can only get there an hour beforehand at the most,” Nathaniel said, doing the calculation to Desmond. “And that's if they are half ready.”

“It's a good plan,” he said. “But it may not be enough. What did you two get up to?”

“We were treated to quite the tests and tour,” Nathaniel said. “ It was eerie, but they told us they just wanted to serve. The wrong way.”

Not the wrong way, a different way, Prada's voice came through and Nathaniel turned to her.

A different way, he said with his mind at last. Is that better?

Everyone is acting like this is the end of the world, Prada said. I think it could be a wonderful opportunity.

Because they all blast through the wall at a moment's notice? Nathaniel teased her. But Prada was serious.

Maybe.

That unsettled him, and they fell into silent, waiting. A couple of checks at the wall told him it would take more power than all of the ship combined to blow open the door, and even if they did, where would they go?

Sienna returned about an ten minutes later, and Nathaniel could see there was something wrong right away. She looked paler than when she left, and her feet were unsteady. Before she even made it through the threshold of the door, she stumbled.

He moved forward quickly, grabbing her. Her arm was bleeding, and he recognized the mark at once.

“They've taken the Cimeraon right out of her,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her, sinking to the floor. “Sienna, did they access your magic?”

She half blinked and he knew what was coming.

“Desmond,” Nathaniel said with a warning tone in his voice. It had been years since they dealt with one of her seizures, but it came back to them like an old enemy. This is what happened when she used her magic. Taking the magic blocking drugs out of her and forcing her magic through her veins at the strength it was when she was sick was cruel. But it meant that they intended her to fight, that much was clear.

They would be used as weapons, without a doubt.

“Just flip her here,” Desmond said, as he sank to the floor beside him, grabbing her shoulders to stabilize her. “There, you've got it. You remember.”

“Bastards,” Nathaniel said, as it began. “Bastards to do this to her.”

Prada said nothing, standing behind them. If either of them had turned around, they could see that she looked absolutely terrified, standing there. She had never seen the full extent of what happened to Sienna when she used magic. Now, in front of her face, she understood the full scale.

If Sienna was going to fight, on either side, she would die. If she saved her boyfriend, she would die.

No doubt Sienna knew this, and she wanted to do it, anyways. She wanted to do it to save any of them, including Prada.

It made the younger girl feel guilty for what she was considering. She would have thought that Sienna would want to fight with this new crowd of witches who were once as powerful as she was. Prada didn't really understand before why Sienna had banished her magic, why they had chosen to no longer train her. All she knew was their whole lives had been taken up with Sienna. She hadn't understood why, until now.

Now, she saw how much they tried.

Eventually, the tremors stopped, and Desmond's shoulders relaxed. Nathaniel winced and Prada suddenly felt a sharp pain through their bond.

Maestro? she asked, stepping forward. Are you all right?

Another notch on the belt, Nathaniel winced, looking down at his hand. Whenever she seized, her mouth fell open and it was more than once that her teeth used to take out a chunk of his hand, which he tried to make sure she wasn't choking. There was a small amount of blood on his knuckles, surrounded by old scars. But then, despite the fact that Sienna was on the floor, limp, he tuned to Prada. Are you all right, Tiro? he asked, putting his hand out to her. It's okay I know it looks scary, but it happens all the time.

Maestro, she can't possibly use magic, Prada said. She can't be alone.

It's okay, Prada, he thought. It's okay

Prada couldn't stand there helpless, it wasn't in her nature. She turned on her heel and bolted from the room.

“Prada!” Desmond called out, but Nathaniel put a hand out to him instead.

“It's all right,” he said. “It's all right. That's the way she deals with things sometimes. She's all right, she'll be back.”

“On this ship?”

Nathaniel had been tuned in to her thoughts, though, and let out a sigh.

“I have a strange feeling that she will be more all right here than she's ever been,” he said, looking up at Desmond. “She almost spoke when we were out there with them. I could see her mouth open, she didn't even think of it. She was comfortable. That's never happened before.”

“We all find our paths in life,” Desmond said, softly, and Nathaniel sighed.

“I know,” he said, looking down at Sienna. “That's what the worse part of this is. We had found our own paths, but everything went wrong. With Devon. With…”

“With Eliza. With the Jurors giving you Prada.”

“That's not what I meant,” Nathaniel said, but Desmond gave him a look.

“But it's what you are feeling. And there's nothing wrong with that,” Desmond said. “You've done a good job.”

“You're talking like all of this is over,” Nathaniel said. “Like everything is coming to an end. Do you sense something in the magic?”

“I sense a change in the magic,” Desmond said and Nathaniel’s heart sank. The last time they had this conversation, it was about leaving Sienna. Now, it felt just as serious.

Chapter 12

Prada had left as quickly as her legs could carry her, moving through the hallways. No one stopped her, no one even so much as looked at her, until she found herself outside the bridge.

Her heart was pounding, and her mouth was dry. She had seen so much in combat, and nothing had frightened her as much as the sight she had just seen.

It was because everything in her life suddenly made sense, and it was the most frightening thing she had even realized

Life had started off as incredibly cruel to her, frightening and activating her fight mode. The academy had rescued her, and Nathaniel had showed her kindness for the first time. He had given her years of acceptance and kindness, and she thought she would never be able to separate from her Maestro.

But seeing Sienna fighting against such a different set of circumstances, made her realize that she was strong and she was capable.

Prada wanted to fight, to serve the magic. Death happened to be a part of that, but she didn't have to purposely contribute to that. And witches like her deserved to serve just as much as peacekeepers, and diplomats.

If Sienna had truly gotten a hold of Jeffro, Prada knew what they would do. It was a well-known battle tactic, to take one side and switch at the last moment. Jeffro's forces would align with the Academy and threaten to blow this new witch coven to Kingdom Come if they didn't hand over Sienna. Nathaniel, Desmond and herself would be forced to fight against those they had grown up with, or they would die.

It would be a stand-off, until everyone was facing almost certain death.

She had to convince them to recognize this coven, to accept them, she knew that.

How she would do that baffled her. Speaking wasn't her strong suit, and diplomacy was her weakest skill?

She had felt like the entire world was on her shoulders before, but this was the true definition of the phrase. How was she going to do this?

She felt like she had aged twenty years.

She couldn't talk to them?

Or could she?

She pressed the button to let herself onto the bridge, where she felt the Dramoonian leader that had spoken to them before.

She was frozen, staring at him. He looked to her, and then reached for the universal translator.

Prada couldn't do it. She couldn't speak. She turned around and ran back to her safety, back to her Maestro.

She wanted to be brave, but she couldn't do it, not yet.

They had hours until they landed at the Academy She told herself it would be all right.

She knew that it wouldn't be.

Back in the lounge that they had been sentenced to, Sienna had been moved to one of the cots, curled up on her side. Her eyes were open, and teary, and Prada could feel her pain from the door, as she was let back in to the room. She didn't register anything as she moved forward toward her Maestro.

“You're back,” Nathaniel said, from his seat at the edge of the cot. “It's all right, Prada, she's fine. This is normal for what they did to her.”

Prada said nothing, drawing her knees up as she thought. She met Nathaniel's eyes to let him know that she was all right, but that was all.

“They did more than push magic,” Desmond said, looking at her arms. “Have you seen this?”

“Creator,” Nathaniel swore. “They fully activated her. Look at those marks. Ten minutes and they destroyed years of work.”

Sienna rolled over them, meeting Nathaniel's eyes and the whole room could hear her thoughts.

I can save Devon now.

“Little one,” Nathaniel said. “Don't think about anything else right now.”

“But Eliza will take me back,” Sienna said.

“Did you get through to Eliza?” Nathaniel answered in surprise “You were only gone ten minutes.”

“I got through to Eliza,” Sienna said softly. “And it won't just be the Jeffro forces.”

“Sorry?” Nathaniel asked confused. “She'll bring the rest of the systems?”

“She'll bring everyone.”

“Everyone?” Nathaniel asked in confusion. “Who’s everyone?”

“Ah!” She winced in pain, and gripped his hand, closing her eyes. They had been through this before, but it seemed to be getting worse. Nathaniel had feared this would happen when all of her abilities came back at once.

Can she die? Prada suddenly pushed into his brain.

Yes, Nathaniel said in no uncertain terms. She can.

Prada leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.

She had never wanted to save this girl before. She hated her, hated her for taking up Nathaniel's time and life.

Nathaniel came to sit with her a few moments later, cautious as he always was.

“What are you thinking, Prada?” he asked. “I know that look on your face.”

Who is everyone? she asked, referring to Sienna's earlier statement. Nathaniel shrugged.

I have no idea. Eliza controls a number of systems but nothing beyond there. Who else she would bring is beyond me. Although if Sienna dies tonight, Eliza will stop at nothing to…

Death, the word rung in Prada's brain. She will bring death.

Nathaniel paused for a moment and then his jaw fell open as he realized what Prada was suggesting.

“Desmond,” he stood up, startling his Maestro. “I know why she's getting worse. She's resurrected someone, she's opened a portal.”

“What?” Desmond asked, in alarm. He had been sitting off to the side, idly watching Sienna's vitals. “What are you talking about?”

“That's the everyone she meant. If they flowed that much power into her, she'd have resurrection at the tip of her fingers. She didn't tell us because she knew that it would do to her, but I'm willing to bet she pushed a life out and brought it back. A portal will be open…”

“An army of the dead,” Desmond said. “Which Eliza would bring.”

“Our enemies don't stand a chance,” Nathaniel said, his chest heaving as he realized what had been done. “This is going to turn into a mass slaughter.”

“And it may start here.” Desmond glanced down to Sienna, who was clearly in distress. “What would make her think that this was a good idea?”

“I don't think she was thinking…” Nathaniel answered. “At least…not about herself. I think she was trying to help Devon…”

“It’s a shot in the dark, to assume one resurrection will open that far of portal,” Desmond replied.

“But any of us would take that shot in the dark,” Nathaniel said. “If it were…one that we cared about this much.”

Maestro, Prada stood up. We have to warn them.

It's unlikely that they will listen to us, Prada, Nathaniel thought softly. They just want us to fight for them, to get them Reconstruction

Why can't we? she asked, with such strength that he thought she might have actually spoke. She stared him down, and he was reminded how different she was from Sienna, how strong she could be. Why can't we plead their case?

Prada, they are killers.

“THEY AREN'T!” The words came rolling out of her mouth, thundering through the room. Desmond raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, knowing that acknowledging might be enough to send her back into her shell.

Nathaniel straightened his shoulders, watching her.

“Why aren't they, Prada?” he asked carefully. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, and he waited patiently

In his patience, Desmond felt so proud of him. He had taught his Tiro patience, and calm, even in the stormy world they lived in.

“You're safe,” Nathaniel said. “You're safe here.”

“They are witches too, Nathaniel,” Prada said. “You have influence with the Jurors. We have a chance to plead their case rather than it ending in a slaughter. If we enter this war, everyone loses.”

“Will you fight with me?” he asked her. “At my side, with the Jurors? Will you help plead this case, then, to end this battle?”

She paused, and then nodded.

“Good,” he said. “I'm proud of you, Tiro.”

“Mm,” the amount of words she had said seemed to have been enough, and she clammed up, her palms shaking.

It was the first time in years she had spoken in front of someone beside Nathaniel, and it made her feel sick.

But it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She had nightmares about speaking in public, about instant death the moment she made a sound.

But to her surprise, she didn't die. She was also surprised that she wanted to defend them as much as she did.

Prada had heard of Stockholm Syndrome, but this was entirely different.

It was as if her entire world was different. And she had never wanted anything to be different until she saw the power these witches had. Suddenly, her perception on everything and everyone was different than what she was brought up with.

She had been jealous of Sienna, and she didn't have to be. She was strong, and she could be stronger than her. She had always felt out of place and she thought her place was with Nathaniel. But now she realized he was only the key to where she might actually belong.

He had always discouraged her power, they all had. She was encouraged to control her power, to look at other avenues besides fighting.

She was built to fight, some people were.

They didn't talk much on Dramoon. They didn't communicate with words, or emotions. They used their magic, exactly where she was comfortable.

She hadn't realized she ever wanted to be away from this place, until she saw another door.

“We might have another worry on our hands.” Desmond bent down to check Sienna's vitals. “She needs a proper med bay, and no doubt they will keep us here.”

Unless we offer a trade, Prada thought. Offer them me, that I will join them if they save her.

“Prada,” Nathaniel looked up in shock. “That's dangerous.”

“Not if I mean it,” she responded, meeting his eyes.

There was a long silence in the room. Nathaniel reached out to grab her hand.

“Are you sure?” he asked, knowing what it meant to be asking. She was suggesting leaving him, of fighting for a side that they thought was evil up until a day ago. “Because if we put you in that situation, we may not be able to remove you from it.”

“I know,” she grasped her hands shut so they wouldn't shake. “I know.”

Nathaniel glanced at Desmond, who gave him the slightest nod.

Nathaniel expected to feel shock, anger, and pain at her announcement.

But he felt relieved, like this was the correct path.

Different path, the words rang in his mind. He had never walked the same path as anyone else, not from the moment Desmond started training him.

There was nothing wrong with walking a different path. But now, they had to walk it.

“All right,” he said carefully. “Go ask for a medic. You can do it, Prada, you can talk to them.”

She nodded, although five minutes ago, she wasn't sure she could.

But every step toward the door filled her with a bit more courage, and a bit more strength.

Chapter 13

It only took her a few moments to find a Dramoonian guard. Prada knew that they wouldn't understand her, but she decided to push her magic and see if she could reach into their minds instead. It was high magic, and normally Tiros could only talk to their Maestros.

But Prada knew she wasn't a normal Tiro.

We need medical help, or Sienna will die, she thought. Please, she will be useless to you otherwise.

Sienna is no longer of interest to us, the guard answered, shaking his head.

If she dies…I will not assist you. Prada thought, trying not go into a full blown panic attack. This caught the guards attention. And I would like to assist you, always.

It took her a very long time to get the conversation out. The guard took her to the leader, the captain, and back again. Prada felt like she might pass out on the floor at some point, but she stayed focused. And every time one of them flared up with magic, she flared up as well, matching them.

It was the only time she had ever felt like she belonged. Her use of magic was considered out of control in the original Academy But here, they acted like it was completely normal.

The more she talked to them, the more she realized that she had found her place. It seemed so mind blowing, and yet so natural.

They agreed to take Sienna to the med bay. But Prada wasn't allowed to see her, to be with them. She had to stay out. They didn't trust her. They didn't know yet what she was capable of. Nathaniel straddled the line, talking to her outside in the hallway.

She is better?

“She at least has help,” Nathaniel said, leaning against the wall. “But she shouldn't have taken the risk. There were so many other ways she could have helped.”

Will the Jurors listen?

“What choice do they have?” he asked. “Be brave, little one.”

He had never called her that before, and Prada's head turned up.

“There is another answer,” he said. “To you leaving to work with them.”

“Mm?” Prada made a noise in her throat, watching him.

“You can take the tests. Then, you choice of work will be within your hands. You can help them, you can be assigned to them. It can be your whole life's work, if you choose.”

Prada choked on that.

You want me to take the tests? But I'm..

He had been older than most when he took the tests, and Sienna never did. She had nothing to compare herself to in her immediate circle. Her friends in her classes, had not begun to bridge taking the tests.

“You are young, yes,” he said. “But you wouldn't be the youngest. It isn't about age, Prada, it's about readiness, strength, maturity. And what you have suggested here today, tells me you are ready.”

You just don't want another one to not take the tests, her old anger flared up.

“Your success is not dependent on what happened to Sienna,” he said. “You are your own person. You can do this. I believe in you.”

She held his gaze, watching. Her Maestro had put up with so much, had been through so much in his life. He was frustrated often, but he was also patient and kind. And there was no one else who would have taken her on, she knew that. Nathaniel had not had an easy time as a Maestro.

What else do you believe, Maestro? she asked, her bond to his mind strengthening every moment.

She knew what he was thinking.

He sighed.

“If we get through this and you choose to stay, I will wait you out. But I've been thinking about how we talked of different paths…and maybe a different path is right for me.”

With Eliza? she asked.

With Eliza, he confirmed, If she'll have me. But not before you are ready, Prada. You are my duty, my legacy. The only one.

Her eyes lit up at that.

“I can do this,” she said, even though she wasn't sure that she could. Her voice made him smile.

“Prada…” he chose his words carefully. “Despite their power, they are still different, in their views.”

I know, she returned to their bond. I know. But I'm more powerful than all of them.

“That you are,” he said softly, thinking in more ways than one. “That you are.”

I will talk to them more, she said and he nodded.

“Go,” he said. “Tell them that she is no better, no worse. That she will have a long recovery.”

They wanted he,r too, Prada revealed. Her power could aid them.

She can aid no one like this, Nathaniel thought. “Only you can.”

Prada nodded and disappeared down the hallway. Nathaniel watched her go for a moment before ducking back into the med bay.

“Did I just hear right?” Desmond asked, as Nathaniel returned. His former Tiro looked down.

“What did you hear?”

“You are giving up the Order?”

“I—” Nathaniel sighed. “I've been struggling with this for a while. Not just with Prada, but with what I wanted, where I was best suited, where I could serve Nature best. I was only ever a warrior, Desmond. I wasn't a diplomat like you, I wasn't a translator, or a pilot. And I'm not the best Maestro.”

“You were given very difficult Tiros,” Desmond said. “ And you did a phenomenal job of both of them, given the situation.”

“But it may be that I have a different path,” Nathaniel said. “That I want a different path. And that this is Prada's path, this is what she was created to do, I think. She was not created by Nature to be this powerful without a reason and this could be it, to unite these two factions.”

“Is that what Nature is telling you?”

“I think,” Nathaniel said, meeting his former Maestro's eyes. “I think this is her purpose and if she can unite them with the power like they have, and the mind we have brought her up to have… it could be possible. Prada could do that…I just wonder…”

“Hmm?” Desmond asked.

“I wonder whether Sienna had the same purpose, and it went wrong. So Nature gave us Prada, a second chance. And it was under our care, as if it was all a plan.”

“As if Nature had figured things out,” Desmond smiled. Nathaniel snorted.

“I suppose so,” he said. “I suppose so. Anyways.” He leaned onto his elbows, against the edge of the bed. “This takes me back.”

“Do you remember when she was a child?” Desmond asked. “How often we'd stand here, in this same position?”

“I felt like I was a broken record,” Nathaniel said. “I only have three things I could say, over and over again. Eat your food, put on a sweater, go to sleep.”

Desmond laughed.

“I remember that,” he said. “I think you spent five years with those words on loop.”

“Thanks,” Nathaniel answered, as one of Sienna's monitors beeped. He hit the button to reset it, as if on autopilot. “Creator, I hate this. I can't watch her go through this. She was so close to having a normal life, and if Devon is gone from her, then…”

“Will Prada help?”

“It's possible,” Nathaniel said. “But we have to survive this first.”

By the time they landed, Nathaniel could feel the magic practically seeping through the walls. He knew that Eliza's forces were there, he knew that the Academy was on high alert, and he could feel magical signatures that felt odd.

The dead. The dead that Sienna had returned to life through the portal were lingering. Some from Jeffro, some from the Academy, every possible portal that she could access.

If she wasn't hanging between life and death, Nathaniel would have been proud of her. She would have been the witch that brought balance, but Nature had another plan for her.

There was a commotion outside, and Nathaniel barely moved, listening to the voices.

“I don't need to know the language to know what they are screaming about,” he said. “They have just realized they are outnumbered.”

“And so it begins,” Desmond said. “Except you and I are now on the other side of a battle we thought we'd never see.”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

Everything that he had learned, everything that he had taught Prada was now called into question. He could only hope that he had done right. He had taken the tests so many years ago, but this felt like the ultimate test for a witch.

Prada was standing at the doorway to the gangplank, in between two Dramoonian leaders, armed with magic flowing through their bodies. She had her magic working through her fingers, and everyone knew that she was the most powerful one of all. As the gangplank lowered and Thomas saw Prada standing there, he took a step back.

He had seen what damage this girl had done to the school, when she was out of control. Where was Nathaniel? Where was her control?

Prada took a deep breath, looking down upon the crowd that had gathered.

Eliza's Jeffro forces were in the background, and Prada could see beyond them, a mess of confused looking witches. These were those Sienna had raised, opened the portal for.

“Prada,” said Thomas, as she approached. “Are you held hostage?”

She swallowed, wishing Nathaniel was here. But in this moment, she had to stand alone.

These were her people. It didn't matter whether they came from the same planet, the same race. They had the same magic, they had the same power.

She shook her head, drawing up on courage to try and speak.

“Where is Nathaniel?”

“These—” her voice trembled. Everyone was shocked to hear her speak. “These witches want nothing more but recognition from the Jurors. They are like me.”

“You will release Nathaniel and Sienna.” Eliza pushed her way to the front of the crowd. “Or we will attack with such fury…”

We are outnumbered, she heard the Dramoonian leader beside her. Who are they?

They are the dead. Prada turned to him. Sienna raised the dead when you forced her magic.

You can do that, came the response.

I can protect you, Prada responded I can protect you or we will face certain death. We are warrior, but we are not wanting death.

There was silence in her head, and then she moved forward.

“They are witches ,too,” she cried out to the Jurors, who were tensed. “Peace, not war. Warriors, not killers. Dramoon is not what you think.”

She was shaking, terrified. But she kept talking. Prada felt like each step she took, she was getting braver. She was created for this purpose. She knew that now.

She just hoped that she lived through it.

There was the longest silence she had ever known, in which they stared each other down.

All eyes were on Prada before long. She could take all of them down if she wanted – if she was angry enough.

But it was clear she wanted peace.

At last, Thomas took a deep breath. “We are happy to talk, if you are. For the first time, we are happy to recognize Dramoonian forces within the Jurors chambers. We are happy to try and reach an agreement.”

“Only if…” The Dramoonian leader surprised Prada by speaking, slow, thought out basic. “Only if Prada remains with us. She is one of us.”

“I will,” Prada assured them. “But there are conditions”

They watched her, waiting, hoping.

“The three of them go free. And I return to Jeffro…to raise Sienna's Devon, to heal him once and for all.”

“Granted,” came the words, and Prada knew her life was about to change.

Chapter 14

“Is she here?”

“She's here,” Desmond said, barely through Sienna's door. How she had survived this recent fight with magic, he didn't know. But he had the feeling that being reunited with Devon was the thing that got her through, brought her back once again from the brink of death. “She's here and she's going to try, Sienna. But that is a lot of magic she is going to use, and I'm not sure I want you anywhere near it.”

“Maestro,” Sienna gave him a look. “You can't say that anymore.”

“I can't,” Desmond said. “But I have a feeling you'll listen to me, anyways, won't you?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You'll tell me as soon as it's done?”

“Yes, I will,” he promised. “But…there's no one besides you who has ever tried this.”

“I know,” Sienna said. “But Prada can do it. She was put in this galaxy to save people, I know she was. And Nathaniel was put here to guide both of us.”

“And now to be a Prince,” Desmond said. Sienna raised an eyebrow.

“It's odd, isn't it? He'll be coronated next week and the Order will be down one more witch.”

“But gaining so many in their alliance with Dramoon,” Desmond pointed out. “I'm sure they won't enjoy losing Nathaniel's mouth though.”

“His commentary got me through life,” she said, with a smile. “And now his Tiro will get me through the rest of it. Creator-speed.”

“I'll be back soon,” he promised her, heading down the hallway.

Prada and Nathaniel waited at the end of the hall. Without the confines of the Order, Nathaniel seemed more relaxed, his dress now Jeffroian. He would be married to Eliza and coronated soon, everything he had dared to dream for. And Prada, beside him, a full witch, the tests passed with the highest score ever, now stood with her head held higher and her eyes ablaze.

It was a rocky road, but Desmond thought it was the best outcome for everyone.

Now, if they could just make it the best outcome for Sienna as well, it would be a miracle.

Desmond wasn't sure Nature granted miracles much anymore, but he hoped for one, anyways.

“She's all right,” Desmond said. “But her usual impatience is dominant. If we don't tell her within the next 10 minutes...”

“I can do this,” Prada assured Desmond, as if she hadn't spent years not speaking to anyone else. “I've done it since we've last seen each other.”

“You have?” Desmond asked in surprise “On someone so…”

“On animals,” Prada said. “And I waited for portals, I waited for negative signs. So far, though, all is well.”

“Well,” Desmond's mouth twitched as he glanced at Nathaniel. “What a skill.”

“I think she can teach it,” Nathaniel said. “She's trying. But it could be that we've beaten death once and for all.”

“Let's focus on the task at hand,” Desmond said, pointing toward the room where Devon was held.

Prada squared her jaw, switching her focus.

“I need you to stay back ,though,” she said, as she advanced forward. “Just in case something goes wrong.”

“I thought that you did this before?” Nathaniel asked her.

“On birds,” Prada protested, and Desmond's confidence was shattered again.

Nathaniel stayed back at the door, watching his former Tiro as she approached Devon's body on the bed.

“She's doing well?” Desmond asked Nathaniel, who nodded.

“She is. But she's still…she's still reaching out, still second guessing herself. That will go away, I think.”

Desmond smiled, looking at Nathaniel.

“To a point,” he said. “Sometimes they still burst into your school room and eat the breakfast that you cook for yourself when they are still adults.”

Nathaniel smiled. “Point taken,” he said. “But she's going to be all right, I think.”

“She will,” Desmond said. “Nature does not make mistakes.”

“No,” Nathaniel said. “Nature does not.”

Watching Prada was almost memorizing, the way she moved forward, assessing the magic in the air, assessing the life force that was still left. She would have to make sure that she pushed and pulled at exactly the right moment, and she would have to close a portal as quickly as she opened it. She was focused as she put her hands on Devon's mechanically moving chest, closing her eyes.

“Prada!” Nathaniel suddenly said. “There's no danger that you—”

“No,” she said, her eyes still closed. “I'll be fine. I'm strong.”

“Ground yourself,” he said. “Reach out if you need to hep. Channel us.”

“Nathaniel,” she turned to him. “This isn't any scarier than any war we've seen. I'm all right.”

“You are,” he said. When he started training Prada, he had no idea where it would go. But now, he couldn't be more proud.

Prada drew the magic into her palms, reaching from sources that Nathaniel couldn't even try to feel. Prada was so strong, but she had needed to learn to stand alone.

“Oh boy,” Prada said under her breath, as she felt how far gone Devon was. There was very little life force left, and she wasn't sure she would be able to pull it forward.

Different path, came ringing through her ears as she tried and tried again. Everyone has a different path. Devon. Devon. Devon I know your girlfriend.

There was no answer, and she sighed, gritting her teeth.

Of all the things that she had been through, she didn't want this to be the one she failed.

Sienna is alone right now, she tried again.

There was no answer, and she growled, looking up at Nathaniel. He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Just…patience,” Prada said, and closed her eyes again.

Devon, Prada said. I'm a witch. I'm the witch Sienna was supposed to be. Come back and with the woman she is now.

She felt a stirring of life and she pulled harder.

Devon, she called again. Come back.

She felt a jolt and her eyes flew open.

“Oh,” she said, stumbling back slightly. Nathaniel moved forward.

“It's okay,” Prada said, leaning against the wall. “It's okay. Just wait.”

“I don't see any change,” Nathaniel said and she rolled her eyes.

“Do you know how hard that is? Give him a moment. He was dead, by the way.”

“He was clinically…”

“He was dead,” Prada said, looking him in the eye. “But I don't think death matters anymore.”

As if on cue, Devon took a huge breath, choking on the tube down his throat.

“Can I get some help?” Nathaniel called down the hall to a nurse, half in shock as Devon's vital signs rose. A few nurses rushed in, and Nathaniel stepped back, his jaw open.

“Prada…” he said, as Devon's eyes opened, and there was clarity in them. “Thank you.”

She looked at him like it was obvious

“Of course,” she said.

“Not of course,” he said. “Before this quest…”

“Before this quest I had a dark soul?” she asked. “I would not help others?”

“Before this quest, you were afraid,” he said, softly. “And now, you are not. You are brave. You didn't let fear rule your life and that is what I am the most proud of.”

“Not passing the tests?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Seeing you speak to someone else, seeing you stand on your own, that is where your challenge was.”

“We each have a different path,” she said softly. “This was mine.”

“I'm going to go and get her,” Desmond said, tapping Nathaniel on the shoulder. “All right?”

“Looks like it,” Desmond said. “I think you've done it, Prada. And maybe one day, you can teach us.”

“I was actually thinking.” Prada brushed her hair out of her eyes. “That I might be able to teach Sienna how to use other people's magic instead of her own. That's what this is, after all, pulling rather than pushing. If it never enters her bod, it would be fine.”

Nathaniel's jaw fell open.

“Really?”

“I don't know for sure,” Prada said. “But I think I could try.”

Nathaniel couldn't believe it. But if anyone could do it, it was Prada.

They had come so far from the Tiro that hated Sienna, that hated the world.

They had to go through a war and pain, death, for Prada to find her place, but she had found it and grown so much.

Sienna coming to the door was the trifecta Supported by Desmond, her eyes lit up when she saw Devon sitting up, without breathing tubes, without monitors The nurses had barely stepped back when Sienna grabbed his hand.

“Devon? Devon, are you all right?”

His voice was raspy, but he managed to get some words out before taking a breath. “Sienna, my love. Are you all right?”

“Oh, Creator!” She collapsed in tears, crawling into the bed beside him.

“Ironic that we spent half our lives pulling them apart,” Desmond said and Nathaniel smiled.

“And now we have our own loves,” he said, as Eliza came to the door. Her hand was on her mouth, and she smiled at Nathaniel.

“So it's true, then?”

“It's true,” Nathaniel snaked an arm around Eliza. “Devon will be at our wedding, as well, I think.”

“This is…” Eliza turned to Prada. “This is all because of you. Thank you.”

“This is because I found my path,” Prada said with a shrug.

Desmond leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold. After the coronation, he would return to Mariah, to continue to live their private, quiet lives.

When they had been warriors, and serving, he never thought they would all have happily ever afters. The only thing he cursed was being so blind that he couldn't have the happy life earlier. This was the path for all of them, blessed by magic, blessed by love.

“Thank you.” Sienna turned to Prada, tears rolling down her face. “Thank you for doing what I couldn't.”

Prada smiled.

“You were the trailblazer,” she said. “You were the trailblazer for everything here.”

“This is a fairy tale,” Sienna said, looking at all of them as she leaned against Devon. He grasped her hand, pulling her close. Fairy tale was the word she used growing up to describe the romances she didn't yet know were forbidden “It really is. And now you will be a Prince, Nathaniel.”

“That's because Eliza won't marry me without giving me responsibility,” Nathaniel answered. Eliza smacked him in the side and he chuckled. “See? Responsibility to save my skin, even now.”

“I'm quite happy to carry on the way we were,” Eliza said, teasing him, but he kissed the top of her head.

“No,” he said “I think we finally seal the deal and make each other miserable forever.”

“Forever,” Eliza said, looking up at him with a smile.

“Forever,” Nathaniel said.

They may not have walked the traditional path, but they had ended up happy. And as Sienna lay her head on Devon's chest, and Desmond looked on with a smile, Nathaniel finally felt like he had succeeded in life. And now, with death behind them, they had a future in front of them that was guaranteed to be happy.

“We should prepare for the coronation,” Eliza said at last. “Give the lovebirds some space.”

“Anything, my love.” He laughed. “Anything for you. But do I have to wear a crown?”

“Oh, Nathaniel.” She smiled. “You have no idea what you are in for.”

Epilogue

Eliza was Queen of Jeffro and many systems. It was the grandest wedding the planet had ever seen, and Nathaniel knew that it was going to be that way. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed at the front of the grand church.

“I was sort of hoping we could just have a quiet little ceremony with paperwork.” Nathaniel said to Desmond, who he had asked to be his best man.

“With the Queen of Jeffro?” Desmond asked. “That was likely.”

“You could have reassured me,” Nathaniel replied. “It's what Sienna and Devon did three days ago and their wedding was perfect.”

“Have you ever known Sienna to want attention like that?” Desmond asked. “Theirs was perfect for them. And your wedding will be perfect for Eliza.”

“Thank you so much, Desmond,” Nathaniel rolled his eyes. But then, the church doors rolled open, and his jaw dropped.

In true Jeffroian fashion, Eliza had on the largest gown that could possibly fit into the church. Her head dress with the crown on top was several feet tall, it felt like. But underneath it all, it was beautiful Eliza, the girl he had fallen in love with.

Walking down the aisle to him was something they had fought over, because she was Queen and he would be the one marrying in. But eventually, she submitted and he was so glad that she did.

Seeing her walk toward him was enough to set his heart aflame.

All he could think about was how many years he had spent wishing, hoping and pushing this moment away at the same time. He should have done this when he was eighteen years old, using his magic on the throne when he first fell in love with her.

He hadn't really thought of the words that he would speak after the marriage. The only thing he really cared about today was marrying the love of his life.

She reached him, outstretching her hand to take his. Sienna as her maid of honor stood to his right side. He winked at her before turning back to his bride, who smiled.

“Are you ready?” she asked, and he grinned.

“What if I said I was not?”

“Too late,” she answered, squeezing her hand.

“I guess I am here then,” he teased her. “Of course, I'm ready, Eliza. I've been ready for ages. It's you we were waiting for.”

“Mm,” she answered. “I may have gotten lazy in my old age.”

“Are you two ready?” the priest asked, used to them bantering between them. Ever since he met with them to start planning their wedding, Eliza and Nathaniel had bantered and teased each other. However, no one could doubt the love between them. They were two peas in a pod, meant for each other.

“Yes, sorry,” Nathaniel answered, giving him a guilty smile. “ Go ahead.”

The priest looked down and then cleared his throat, fulfilling the lines that he had to say.

“Dearly beloved, We have come together in the presence of Creator o witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by Creator. The union of husband and wife is intended by Creator for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given each other in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by the Creator.”

No one said a word. The grand church was completely silent, watching the historic moment between their Queen and future Prince. Because she was the sole ruler, he would outrank her as King, so he had to have the rank of Prince. But it didn't bother him. He knew they were partners, and if it ever came down to it, she was born into this role, and would likely be better at it then him.

“Into this union, Queen Eliza and Nathaniel now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now, or else forever hold your peace.”

Luckily, no one said a word. Eliza didn't think they would, especially after everything they had been through. The people of Jeffro had always liked Nathaniel, and they had always supported the two of them in public, even when it was unofficial

“I charge you both, here in the presence of Creator and the witness of this company, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be married lawfully and in accordance with Creator's Word, do now confess it?”

“No,” Eliza was fast to answer. “There is no reason why we should not be married.”

“And Nathaniel?”

“No,” he answered, according to the script. “There is no reason why we should not be married. There is about a million why we should, though, so could we hurry it up?”

There was laughter throughout the crowd and Eliza rolled her eyes.

“Queen Eliza,” he turned to her “Will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she answered. It was two simple words and yet it meant so much. Nathaniel gazed into her beautiful eyes, so stunned as always by her beauty.

“Nathaniel , will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?”

“I will,” he said, his voice quivering. After this, they would never spend a moment apart. He would wake up beside her every morning, and be able to hold her hand every day. That fact was mind blowing to him, and he couldn't wait to get started.

“Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?” the priest turned to the whole crowd.

“We do,” everyone answered.

“Bless, O’ Creator, these rings as a symbol of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other,” the priest said, and indicated that Desmond and Sienna should hand over the rings. They were intricate, twisted gold, and looked like the crowns they would wear.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, ” Eliza said, pushing the ring onto his finger. He stroked her hand, and then switched, so that he could put the ring on her.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you,” he whispered, sliding the ring onto his beautiful Queen.

The priest looked between them, satisfied that part was fulfilled.

“Now that Queen Eliza and Nathaniel have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife. Those whom Creator has joined together, let no one put asunder,” he said.

Eliza and Nathaniel held hands, knowing that it was almost over. In rehearsal, Nathaniel had blazed this part into his mind. He couldn't wait for the final words to be said.

“Bless, preserve and keep you; the Creator mercifully with his flavor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that you may faithfully live together in this life, and in the age to come have life everlasting. Amen,” the priest prayed over them.

“And also with you,” everyone echoed.

“Queen Eliza and Nathaniel, having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife. Nathaniel, you may kiss the bride.”

Nathaniel grinned and dipped her down, to the applause of the crowd. Everyone roared and cheered, as Nathaniel brought her back up.

But there was one more thing to do before they walked down the aisle.

“Eliza, Queen of Jeffro,” said the priest, as head of the church. “Now, that you are married to this man, do you name a successor?”

“I do,” she said “I name Nathaniel, my husband, as Prince of Jeffro, my heir and the future father of my children.”

“Then let it be known that Nathaniel, husband of Eliza, is to now be known as Prince Nathaniel, Regent of Jeffro. God save the Queen!”

“God Save the Queen!” came the cry as everyone dropped to their knees.

Nathaniel grabbed Eliza's hand, as they advanced down the aisle. They had to greet the public on the steps, as their first official duty. He felt Sienna at his back, not just as the maid of honor, but as the Baroness, to greet the public, as well.

And, as he came to the end of the church aisle, there was Prada, standing there. He had wanted her to come, but she had been on assignment, deep in Dramoon politics. However, it appeared that as always, Prada had found a way. She was dressed in field clothing, and she cocked an eyebrow at him, and then bowed.

“Oh, no, Princess,” he said. “You do not bow to me.”

“Maybe one day we can rebuild Powys,” she said with a smile. “But you focus on Jeffro for now.”

“Aye,” he said. “I'll see you around.”

“You will,” she said. “Congratulations”

He smiled and took Eliza's arm again. The church doors flew open, and he found them immersed in a crowd of what felt like the entire planet. The crowds cheered, yelled, wavered flowers, and bowed.

“Oh, my,” Nathaniel said, and Eliza gripped his arm.

“You get used to it.”

“I imagine you do,” he said. “But with you by my side, I'll get used to anything.”

“Did you mean what you said to Prada? About rebuilding Powys with her?”

“Today one planet, tomorrow an empire.” Nathaniel smiled as he turned to Sienna, at his back. “What do you think, little one?”

“You're always thinking about us, about others,” Sienna said. “We're okay , Prada and I. Enjoy your wedding day.”

“I am thinking like a Prince,” Nathaniel grinned, and Eliza squeezed his arm.

“You are,” she said. “But that isn't why I love you.”

“Do you love me because I'm a witch?” he asked.

“I love you because you're my soulmate,” she said.

“You're my soulmate,” he echoed, kissing the top of her head. This wasn't the way he had planned his career, but it was the happiest outcome he could imagine. They were safe, they were with the ones they loved.

“Then we will build an empire together,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“As long as we are together,” he said, “then we can do anything.”

Nature had a plan for them, he knew, and he believed that this was the plan all along. The intention of Nature could be nothing but having them together, for the rest of their lives. This was where they fit, where they belonged. This was the path that they walked.

*** THE END ***