JO DEPARTED FROM the recreation room and scooped her watch off the shelf, fastening it back over her wrist. The expanse of hall leading to the Four-Way was void of windows. It wasn’t until she was walking down the stairs and heading toward the common area that she even got a sense of time. Of course, she could’ve checked her watch, but that was just so logical and her brain was far too sluggish for such taxing solutions to life’s simple problems.

Dawn was just cracking over the mountains in the distance, rays of sunlight arcing over their peaks and shining brightly—blindingly—over the pool. It filtered in as vibrant streaks through the columns on the opposite wall of the entry to the common area. For once, the room was silent.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to make my own coffee,” she lamented dramatically to no one in particular. At least, she intended it to be no one in particular.

“I could summon Nico for you.” Eslar’s voice rose up from the couch, only to be followed by the man himself.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there.” The apology was half-hearted. She’d definitely prefer Nico’s brewing skills to her own. If Eslar insisted, she certainly wasn’t about to stop him.

“How did it go?” Eslar got right to business, forgetting mention of Nico entirely—much to Jo’s disappointment. “Wayne reported he saw you leaving a while ago.”

“Not that long ago.” Jo shrugged as she slowly fussed about the kitchen.

“You did not answer my question.”

“Yes sir, sorry sir.” Eslar didn’t seem to appreciate her joking, so Jo returned her voice to a less militaristic tone. “All seems to be well.”

“It must be, if you’re here.” He shifted back onto the seat of the couch, the back of his head to her, tilted down.

The television was off, which meant something else was occupying his attention. Jo strolled over, confirming her suspicions. “Hey—sorry, didn’t meant to startle you.”

“What else do you require, Josephina?”

“Josephina? What are you? My mother?” Jo leaned on the back of the couch. “Do you have one of those you’d recommend me? Preferably one not in. . .”

“Elvish?” he finished for her, confirming her supicions.

“Yeah.”

“You want to read?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” She walked back to the kitchen, hoping to hide the small amount of offense she took at the shock in his eyes.

“I do have one I’d recommend. I actually think you’d enjoy it. It’s one of Samson’s favorites, actually. . . But it is in Elvish.”

Jo poured herself a cup of coffee. “Bummer.” Well, there went the idea of cutting herself off from tech for a few blissful hours.

“Why does that bother you?” An offended tone took up residence in his words.

“I can’t read—oh.” Jo brought up her palm, smothering her face for a second with a groan. The elf had the audacity to give a low chuckle. “I’m exhausted okay! I forgot I had translation magic.” She leaned against the counter, cradling her mug, and clarified, “It’ll work on languages that. . .”

“No longer exist?” The words were steely, almost practiced, almost in a manner she’d expect to hear from Snow. “Yes.”

“Then pass over the words.”

Eslar stood, departing the room for several minutes (long enough for Jo to finish her cup and wash it) before returning with a tome in hand. There were a few runes stitched into the leather of the front. Jo blinked at it several times: nothing. Just when she was beginning to get paranoid that her mind was too taxed to mentally translate anything, they shifted.

“The Bow of the Goddess?”

“An old folk tale about a man who was gifted a weapon by the Goddess of the Hunt, making him her chosen champion in her war against the Goddess Oblivion.”

“Sounds like fun.” Jo shrugged.

“Does it?” He seemed skeptical.

“I want something that I’ve never seen before to cleanse my mental palate. And I’m fairly certain I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“The likelihood is slim,” Eslar agreed before strolling over to the couch. Jo started for one of the chairs by the pool that she and Nico usually sat out on, awash in the morning’s sun. She thought the conversation over, but then Eslar added, softly, as if debating if he wanted to say anything at all, “Keep it as long as you need. Let me know what you think when you’re finished.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jo mumbled, staring at the elf. It felt almost like… friendship? Closer than she’d felt with the man since their first wish.

Jo took up her seat, and a few hours passed in blissful silence. Her mind soaked up the words. All too soon, she no longer even saw the script-like runic language, and instead, became absorbed in the story that hailed from a time when magic was real and gods seemed just a little more possible.

What was shaping up to be a surprisingly peaceful morning was, unsurprisingly, ruined by Wayne. Jo didn’t even hear him come in, but he must’ve made a direct line for where she sat. “Wow, doll, you look like hell.”

Jo startled, nearly dropping the book. Her eyes drifted up to where he stood at the edge of her lounge chair. “Good morning to you, too?”

“I take it you were successful?”

“Right to business I see.” Jo closed her book and set it aside. “I’m trying to hold you in suspense, is it working?” Really, what Jo wanted to say was “turn on the damn TV.”

“Should I get Takako first?” Wayne posed the question loudly enough to be fielding Eslar’s opinion as well.

Jo stood, making a show of stretching, hoping she didn’t have to be the first one to speak. She didn’t know what the right answer was here. But something possessed Eslar to look her way. Why did this come down to her? She swallowed hard. “She’ll find out one way or another. I think she should be here. It could be a relief to wake up and see everyone evacuating.”

“I’ll get her then.” Wayne scurried off.

As he did, Jo made her way over to the couches, sitting diagonally across from Eslar in what had become her usual spot. She focused on situating herself on the cushions, looking at the elf from the corners of her eyes. Eslar must have come from a time with no notion of awkward looks, because he ignored her deftly. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Jo opened her mouth to speak, just as he did the same.

“How are you liking the book?”

“Oh, fine. . . I’m kind of a slow reader, so I’m only at the part where the God of Fortune is meeting with the Goddess of the Hunt to discuss crafting a weapon.”

Eslar hummed, nodding, flipping the page of his own manuscript.

The book wasn’t what she wanted to talk about, and he must know it. Jo swallowed, glancing toward the door. They were alone, but for how long? She had to chance it. Things were going well between her and one of the oldest members of the Society; this was as good an opportunity as any. “Should we get Pan as well?”

To his credit, Eslar was unrattled. “Do you really want to subject Takako to that again?”

“As she said, she can stand up for herself.”

“Can you trust yourself around her?” Eslar raised his narrowed his eyes, no doubt referring to the temper Pan brought out in Jo.

“Trust myself not to do what? Is there something I should be worried about?” The memory of the woman-child with a blood-red sky behind her flashed unbidden before Jo’s eyes.

“She brings out something in you.”

“And why do you think that is?” Jo knew why: it was because Pan was a barely tolerable twat, nothing more or less.

“Perhaps it’s because Pan is the oldest among us, and the closest to Snow,” Eslar said, almost nonchalantly. But the casual words were obviously loaded.

Before Jo could probe further on exactly what he meant, especially about the Snow bit, Wayne returned with not just Takako in tow.

“Good morning, Jo.” Nico gave her a cheerful smile, quickly crossing over. “How is it that you don’t have a cup in hand?”

“Because I’ve already had two cups.”

“Then I take it you don’t need a third?” he asked, heading into the kitchen.

“Blasphamy good sir!” Jo said dramatically. Nico chuckled, and gave a nod, already making espresso. It was the only spot of levity she could find before her eyes fell on Takako, who sat heavily next to her.

“How did it go?”

Jo opened her mouth to answer but Eslar responded by (finally) turning on the TV instead.

Everyone stopped all movement the moment a newscaster appeared.

It took a moment for Jo to properly hear the broadcast. She wanted to chalk it up to having focused for so long on translating Elvish. But that wasn’t the case.

It was her mind reeling as the words she’d expected to hear and the ones currently being spoken clashed in severe counterpoint with each other. She even found herself reading the notices at the bottom of the screen over and over again, as if maybe she’d discover that her magical, internal translator was somehow out of whack.

But no matter how hard she tried, the words continued on unchanged. The world went on unchanged. And that was entirely the problem.

“. . . Japanese Government has issued a statement explaining that there is no scientific evidence to support such claims and all scientific agencies responsible for monitoring potential natural disasters did not issue the warning either. Therefore, Prime Minister Nakamura has deemed the evacuation call a cyber-attack, and requested that all citizens ignore the recent evacuation requests as they look into the organization responsible for these hacks.”

Jo was on her feet. Her heart raced. Her hands balled into fists. Her face flushed not with anger but sheer horror.

“Currently, they are not linked to any terrorist group and appear to be a rogue attack set to strike fear into the populous and cause chaos. While the motivations are still currently unknown, the Prime Minister has sworn to uncover the truth, vowing to allocate emergency funds to the PSIA to ensure the safety of the citizenry. In light of the news of his swift and decisive action, Nakamura’s approval ratings have risen nearly 33 percent, a steep rise just before the elections. . .”

The newscaster’s voice faded to a static buzz. As if all language magic had worn off beneath sheer, appalled disbelief, Jo could barely understand the words at all anymore. Only one statement cut through the humming between her ears.

“Nice try, hotshot.”

She spun on her heel, staring down Wayne. “I did everything perfectly!”

“Clearly not.” Eslar looked up at her, as if challenging her to try to intimidate him. As if accusing her for spending so much time lounging when there was work to be done. Not that she’d known.

“The last time I looked in the recreation room not more than three hours ago, things seemed to be going smoothly. People were beginning to move. I-I set up the evacuation notices, I planted information in scientific databases—”

“Come on, doll. You didn’t think those scientists would try to validate where that information was coming from?”

“Do not take that tone with me.” Jo scowled, her attention returning to Wayne. “Do not speak down to me.” She felt her blood boiling. “Where were you and your flipping coin while I worked all night?”

“You told me you didn’t need—how did you put it? Me and my nickel?” he fired back with rapier-speed and accuracy. It was that thing between them again, a natural escalation that kept them feeding easily off of one another. Unfortunately, this time it wasn’t directed at a common enemy, but each other. “You chose the job and took it on for the team. Don’t pawn off responsibility.”

He had a point. The bastard had a point. Jo ran a hand through her hair, snagging on tangles. “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it,” she muttered.

“How?” Wayne asked. “You have more answers in that magic hacker bag of tricks?”

Her brain was on overdrive. It was running through everything she’d done the night prior, looking for a way to improve, looking for a fix. Simultaneously, Jo was looking forward. Even with the post-hack-a-thon exhaustion making her brain fuzzy, she desperately sifted through direction, information, viable courses of action.

And she was coming up empty.

Minus her little hiccup at the beginning (and, even then, everything had worked out just fine in the end), every other wish she’d touched had been a series of successes. Now, she was failing at the moment it mattered most. Jo dropped her hands to her sides and sighed. Her pride had gotten her in this mess. She’d been a fool for thinking she could do it all on her own. So she couldn’t assume more pride would get her out.

“I don’t know. . .” Jo confessed to them all. “I thought I did everything right. I was so sure I could do it.” Her eyes fell on Takako. Shame and guilt filled her stomach, pushing two words up past her throat and out of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

She looked back to the TV. Jo heard it for the first time again, but the words remained washed out. They were all repeats from before.

“I don’t think this is a total failure,” Takako said, finally.

“How?” Eslar stole everyone’s question from their halfway open mouths.

“They say scientists are looking for any foundation to the emergency being called.” Takako’s words were careful, clearly trying to draw the line between optimism and pragmatism. “We just have to make sure that they’re given a reason to find what they’re looking for. We need to prove to them that the emergency needs to be taken seriously.”

A ray of hope sparked in Jo’s chest. Perhaps there was a way yet to salvage the situation. On reflex, her mind immediately went to how she could hack and code her way to a solution.

But she pushed it aside.

“Let’s get everyone together in the briefing room.” She couldn’t do this alone. None of them could. Wayne had been right; she just had to learn it the hard way. “We need a new plan, team.”