I laughed as I ran through the forest, the dirt of the path squishing satisfyingly between my toes with every step. The setting sun filtered through the gold and red leaves, casting moving patterns on the ground ahead of me. A small doll-like automaton flew through the air, her porcelain-white face smiling as she glanced back.

"You'll never catch me, little Diamond," she teased, lounging on her back. "You have to run faster than that!"

"Come back, BB!" I called, giggling. My tiny five-year-old hands reached for her, brushing against one of the automaton's little red shoes. She easily floated out of my reach, taunting me with a wave. We continued on down the path, the leaves of the forest sighing in the evening breeze. This forest surrounding the mansion had once been my playground, but now the sight of it was bittersweet.

The light had nearly faded from the sky by the time we neared the mansion again. I was about to step out into the clearing when BB stopped me, placing one of her little hands on my chest. She turned to me, her purple eyes wide as she held a finger to her synthetic pink lips. I peeked around her shoulder, searching for the source of the automaton's unease.

Across the clearing from us, just appearing out of the trees, was a woman. Her hair was deep red, like the color of blood. The rest of her features blurred together, the memory of her face decayed with time. She creeped across the clearing, some sort of device in her hand.

"BB, who–" The automaton shushed me, her lips pressing together. The strange woman paused at a side door, device pressed against the door's electric security panel. She rapidly pressed buttons on it, glancing up from time to time, as though looking for someone.

"Someone up to no good," BB said softly. "Stay here, and stay hidden. I'm going to get a better look, and warn the mistress."

"BB, wait–" She had already moved out of earshot, staying close to the ground as she made her way toward the house. I stood there trembling, fiddling with my bracelets. Who was that woman? Why did BB seem afraid of her? BB had told me to hide, but I couldn't find it in myself to move.

Before I could make a decision, the front door opened–the click resounded through the clearing. A figure stood in the doorway, her long dark hair flowing in the breeze. Her clothes kept changing–a flowy white dress, overalls, jeans and t-shirt, hospital gown–and her face was nothing but blank white, the features blurred into anonymity. Her left wrist was adorned by a beaded bracelet, the leaf green glow highlighting the whorls of harsh lines of runes.

"Diamond darling, where are you?" the woman called. "It's almost dark!"

"Mom," I whispered. My breath caught in my throat as I looked back at the stranger with the red hair. She had paused in her work, and was cautiously making her way towards the front porch. Despite my innocence, something about the way she moved screamed bad intentions. I couldn't–wouldn't–let her hurt my mother.

"Mom, look out!" I screamed. Both she and the red haired woman turned to look at me as I bolted across the clearing. I had no plan. All I knew was that I had to help, somehow. I froze as cool steel flashed in the dying light. The woman had some strange object in her hand. It had a short steel tube that was pointed in my direction. What was that thing? It didn't look like an automaton...

The woman's finger slowly pressed down on some part of the machine. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as time seemed to slow down. My mother cried out my name, her hand outstretched. An explosion. I watched as a metal pellet whizzed my way, slowed down by my own imagination. Before I knew what was happening, the family car, surrounded in a green nimbus of magical energy, pulled in front of me. The bullet crashed into the metal plating, deafening me except for a ringing in my ears.

How had that happened? There was no one in the car, and none of my mother's automatons had been nearby. I looked over at my mother, wide eyed. She had collapsed to the ground, her outstretched hand still surrounded in that beautiful leaf-green energy. She panted as she let her hand fall. For a moment, her eyes solidified out of the haze. Beautifully leaf green, just like her dynami.

"Run," she gasped. "Run, Dia!"

The commotion had drawn the attention of the house automatons. My father's automaton, Detric, crashed through an upstairs window. He landed with a creak, rusted joints complaining at the fall. The falling glass rained down on him, pinging off his exposed metal chassis.

"Mistress Krystllo!" Detric exclaimed, his voice edged with panic. He rushed to her, shouting for my father and the others. BB wasn't far off, laying motionless in the grass. There was no answer from Mary-Ann, and my father was away on business. There was no one else.

I crept toward my mother, my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Buh-dum. Buh-dum.

"Mom...?"

I got the sense that she was smiling as the light faded from her eyes, her last breath escaping as a content sigh.

Buh-dum. Buh-dum. Buh-dum.

I opened my mouth in a soundless scream, the world around me fading to black.

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I jolt awake, my hair damp with sweat. The quiet beeping of the heart rate monitor beside me gradually slows down as I stare at the white of the ceiling. It had been a dream. I sigh to myself, bidding my muscles to slowly relax.

But it wasn't a dream. Not really.

Not a dream, but a memory. My eyes burn slightly as the sound of her last breath echoes through my head. I was five years old when my mother died. Out of desperation, she had used her own raw power to push that car in front of me. Magic feats of that magnitude are things of legend. No modern person can wield their own magic without a crystal. But she had, and in doing so, she had died. She had spent every drop of her power to save me. Had burnt out her very soul. It was my fault that she–

I shake the thought away. I had spent years blaming myself for her death, agonizing over whether my life had been worth her sacrifice. In the end, I had decided that those thoughts–whether true or not–caused more harm than good. She had chosen to protect me, and I was determined to live a life that would make her proud.

I close my eyes for a moment, centering myself. When I reopen them, I make the effort to sit up. I grit my teeth as my head pounds, sweat beading along my forehead. The heart monitor picks up for a moment, and then settles again as I lean back against the wall. The window of the small hospital room is open, presenting me with a view of swaying treetops and clear blue sky. The sheer white curtains lazily flow into the room, obscuring the guest I had already known would be waiting.

"You're awake," she says simply. Her silhouette behind the curtain is tall and humanoid. For a moment, I can almost imagine it was my mother sitting there, waiting for me to wake up. Then the breeze slows. The curtain drops, the illusion disappearing with it.

The automaton sitting beside me is bent over a book, her mouth moving ever so slightly as she reads to herself. Her absurdly long golden hair is loosely French braided, falling all the way down her back and just over the edge of her chair. She's wearing one of her many summer dresses, pink and floral patterned. From a distance, she would be perfectly human. This assumption doesn't hold up under close scrutiny.

Her "skin" has many small chinks in it where metal panels have been fitted together, and the paint over top of it has an unmistakably grainy texture. There are places where the color of the paint shifts ever so slightly, displaying the places where maintenance work has been done over the years. If I were to reach out and touch her, she would be cold. Her fingers have several obvious joints. Her hair is slightly too perfect, too heavy. Despite these differences between her and I, however, I still love this automaton with all my heart.

"Mary-Ann."

She closes the book with a satisfying snap and looks up at me, her eyes as blue as the sky beyond the window. Her face remains neutral for a moment as she studies me, her eyes glowing ever so slightly as she looks me over.

"Scanning..." she murmurs. I grin slightly, amused that she feels the need to verify my wellness against the many machines I've been hooked up to. "Scan complete. Your heart rate and temperature suggest that you are recovering well, but still need additional rest."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm well aware," I say, grimacing as my head begins to pound again. "It really isn't that bad though. I'm sure I'll be up and running again in an hour or two."

She hums thoughtfully and smirks at me, a glint to her eyes. Despite being my mother's faithful automaton and acting as my caretaker since before I was born, she will forever appear to be in her twenties. Combined with her mischievous nature, I'm often confused as to whether I should regard her more as a mother or a sister figure.

"What?" I ask flatly. She opens her book again, her smile giving little away. "Come on Mary-Ann, you're obviously hiding something. What is it?"

"You know, you were unconscious for over a day," she says, changing the subject. "That admissions exam must have taken a lot out of you. You're lucky they have a clinic on campus, or your recovery may have been much slower."

"Wait... we're on campus?"

The heart monitor mirrors my growing excitement, its beeping picking up its pace. I have to look out of that window. It was nearly unheard of for applicants to see the campus before acceptance. I look down at my arms, contemplating ripping off the various monitors and IVs.

"Don't even think about it," she says, crossing to my bed in two swift steps. I groan, letting my hands drop back to my sides.

"But I wanna see," I mutter.

"I know you do," she says, smiling serenely. "But I'm sure you'll see it soon. Nobody would turn down our little Diamond."

"I told you to stop calling me that," I say, pouting. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"You've been an adult for under twenty-four hours, and you no longer need me, hmm?"

"That's not what I said at all–"

"I know Dia, I'm only playing," she says, laughing softly. She sits on the edge of the bed and pulls out a comb. My pouting worsens as she starts combing through my hair... but I would be lying if I said I hated it. "Although I could do without the ruckus you produce in the garage... I fear the house is going to be very quiet once you've left. Too quiet. What will I do when my charge has left us? I find the lack of purpose... daunting, I must admit. So allow me to coddle you just a little longer, will you?"

I sigh to myself. When she puts it like that, there's no way I could argue.

"You can become whatever you want to be, you know," I murmur. "You don't have to be a caretaker forever. You're always reading–maybe you should try writing for a change?"

Her brush stills for a moment, as though she's contemplating the idea. Then it starts up again, in the same steady rhythm as before.

"That's certainly one idea," she says. "But you will always be my charge, Dia, no matter where you go or who you become. And I will always be your caretaker."

We sit in silence for a while, Mary-Ann brushing through my hair until it's practically shining. If I listen closely, I can hear distant voices from beyond the window. Butterflies appear in my stomach at the sound. I would really like to become one of those voices, but I'm afraid my performance with the crystal will have ruined my chances.

"Mary-Ann, have you heard anything about my acceptance? I mean... did they say anything about the incident with the crystal?"

That mischievous glint once again appears in her eyes.

"Oh, I was told that you caused quite a bit of trouble today," she says. I groan, pressing my face into my hands. Destroying school property had likely ruined my chances. "It seems your dynami maxed out their equipment. Although the cost of replacing such an enormous crystal is high, they seemed very impressed by your power. And as far as repercussions go... well. We both know your father has supported his Alma Mater for a very long time. I doubt they would do anything to jeopardize that relationship."

That didn't really make me feel better. If they accepted me now, after the shit show of my admissions–the one sentence essay, and destroying their property–I would always feel that it was because of family influence, and not my own skill.

"Speaking of your father, he should be arriving–"

At that very moment, the door to the room slams open.

"DIA!" a voice roars. I hardly have time to turn and look before I'm being enveloped in a bear hug. I wince a bit as my head starts pounding all over again, but I return the embrace with a smile. "My little Diamond, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

My father pulls back, looking me up and down. The years of shop work have made his fingers calloused, and they scrape gently against my upper arms. His once light brown hair is slowly turning white, and his face has deep lines carved near the corners of his deep brown eyes. The usual sparkle in those eyes was gone today, replaced by a quietly burning rage that made them look like coal.

"Dad, I'm fine–"

"I can't believe those academy idiots didn't take your disability into account. And on the only part of the test with no bearing on your score, to boot. I swear I'm going to pull their funding faster than an acceleration crystal through an oil-greased tube–"

"DAD!" The exclamation comes out louder than I intended, leaving my father dumbfounded. I clear my throat, trying to play it off. "I said I'm fine. No actual harm was done, so there's no need to make the university more angry than they likely already are."

He nods slowly, fingers trailing down my arms as he lets go. His expression is unreadable for a moment. Then he forces his expression into a smile, crossing his arms and taking a step back.

"Well in that case, how about we head home? If I remember correctly, I think I spotted an interesting piece of mail..."

"Who's it from?!" I shout, practically ripping the monitors off my skin. Mary-Ann looks vaguely amused, but schools her face into something sterner when she catches me looking.

"Who indeed," she muses, mouth twitching slightly. My father chuckles

My father calls a nurse automaton to help free me of the rest of the various tubes. The moment they've all been removed, I bolt to the window. The clinic appears to be several stories up, overlooking an outdoor courtyard. The trees I had seen from my bed were interspersed throughout the stone tiling of the yard, with benches placed here and there. The courtyard is surrounded on all sides by equally tall buildings. Unfortunately, it seemed I wouldn't be granted the sneak peak I had wanted.