- Sébire -

Lady Sébire cradled the infant Roland, singing a soft, ancient tune from her family's original homeland. Roland's deafness had remained permanent, much to Sébire's despair. Sébire's voice, however, seemed to reach him at a deeper level, as if her rare magic allowed Roland to understand her alone. Her azurite shakujou was propped neatly against the nearby wall. Sébire's porcelain face was marred only by a scar from her cheek to her jaw, the lasting evidence she had sustained in her fight with the daemonis. Adept Élysées had healed her wound, but the healing had not been complete. Sébire, proud and vain, hated her new appearance, but as she smiled down at the infant in her arms, she forgot about the tightness where the mark scarred her.

"It's strange," she whispered, looking into Roland's face, "how he ever managed to love me. But I'm glad he did. And in the end, he was right, wasn't he?"

She smiled. As Sébire finished her song and Roland was fast asleep, she was interrupted by a single, loud word, filtering through her azurite staff: DAEMON!

Her staff flared to bright life, and she hurriedly shielded Roland from the light. When the staff's light dimmed, she ran to it. It was Shashi's voice, she recognized it immediately. As she waited for a second part of the message to come through, she felt, somehow, that it would not come.

"Master Mélissa," she called, and she felt the chiming voice of her anima connect with the crackling one of Mélissa Rayne. "Master Mélissa, what's happened?"

"Daemon, obviously. From the looks of it, a blue one, the same one from last time. We didn't even see it! There's no telling how long it's been sneaking about, but it's incredibly bright."

"What of the team, what of Yvain and the others?" Sébire demanded.

"Don't know, it's absolute chaos. We're able to make adjustments now, but our readings still aren't perfect. At least we're not offline again."

Sébire wanted to smash her staff against the wall, but instead she disconnected with Mélissa and called another name. "Yvain!" Sébire cried, holding her staff, but she could not reach him. She tried a different tactic. "Amélie!"

Within moments, the frantic, hurried footsteps of Sébire's young cousin, Amélie, were heard outside Sébire's door. Amélie, besieged with epilepsy, was a quiet, mousy girl. She had always been very attached to Sébire, and never far away. While inept with her Gift, she was an invaluable help to Sébire and Yvain with Roland.

"Lady Sébire? What is it?" Amélie said as she opened the door, her glasses askew and her usual braid undone. In a fluid motion, Sébire handed Roland to Amélie and pulled on her embroidered Mage Second robes. Amélie was easily excitable, and it would not do to make her worry unnecessarily, despite Sébire's own dread threatening to drown her.

"I will be going to the Old World to assist Master Yvain," she said, keeping her voice steady. "Amie, please look after Roland while I am gone."

Sébire could see the fear on Amélie's face. She turned her dark blue eyes to the door as Amélie fussed over Roland, carrying him to his small bed. The infant slept soundly, making only the smallest noise of protest as Amélie placed him in his small bed. Sébire tied her sash and made for the door.

"B-but, Lady Sébire," called Amélie, but Sébire was already moving out the door.

She ran as fast as she could to the nearest key that would take her directly to the main island; only to find it had been disabled. Sébire let out a cry of rage as she tried to activate it. Her staff blazed as Master Mélissa connected with her.

"Sébire, you are not authorized to go to the Old World," she warned. "Stay where you are!"

"What makes you think I can sit by while Yvain is in danger?"

"We have already sent the reserve team, including three Healers. Stay where you are," Mélissa repeated.

Sébire ignored her. How dare she! Eru, Sébire's anima, chimed in her thoughts, reminding Sébire that Mélissa was her Mage Master. Sébire ignored Eru, too. Mélissa could not stop her. Let her try! Sébire turned on her heels, her eyes scanned the grand estate, the forests that lay even further west. Did the old border gate in the forest still work? If it did, could she activate it herself? Her ancestor, Michi, was one of the first Communications mages to arrive in Lutèce. Michi had built a series of gates along his route, the final one being in the sixteenth district. It was Michi's portals which led to the methodology needed to construct the seven Bridge Gates.

She was rarissime, and a Communicator. Sébire could use it, and completely bypass the Île de la Cité. Sébire clenched her fists. She was wasting time! If that portal did still work, it might only link her to a specific area where Michi lived or traveled. She had no way of knowing where in the Old World it would take her. She would lose time if she went to find it and it did not work, but she would risk almost as much time if she was held up on the island by Mélissa. With a frustrated shout she continued towards the island, on foot.

Either way, she decided, I am running out of time now!

"Communication: Mouvement silencieux," she whispered, and her staff went dark, and no move she made created any sound. Let Mélissa try to find her now. Let anyone try to stop her from getting to Yvain! 

***

- Sébire -

 Getting past the Communicator at the Bridge Gate was easy for someone of Sébire's ability. Mélissa must have trusted Sébire to follow orders and not posted extra guards. A small feeling of guilt passed through Sébire, she was disobeying her Mage Master, after all, but it dissipated when she thought again of Yvain. It might have frightened her, how powerful such a simple spell of suggestion could be, had she not been in such a hurry to care. She took no one with her when she went to the Old World. There was no time.

 From the moment she stepped out onto the wet grass, she realized she was too late. The Communicator who had come with the reserve team lay at the foot of the gate, robes ripped and blood splattered. The gruesome scene was nothing compared to the other two bodies Sébire discovered. One stood, staring blankly into the sky, mouth open in a silent scream. Its body was almost mummified, but as Sébire came closer, it turned slowly in her direction. She gasped and screamed, backing up and tripping over the second mummified body, which crumbled to dust when she touched it.

 Sébire looked around frantically. Where were the others who had come with Yvain? "Enara! Adept Élysées!" she shouted. No one answered. "Shashi!"

 Sébire walked among the bodies. She counted eight bodies out of fourteen. This was only the reserve team. Had the others fled? She could not see well; it was raining hard, and she was soaked through in a matter of seconds. Above her, Sébire heard laughter. She looked up and saw a female daemon, not blue like the ones she had encountered on her last visit here. This one glowed bright orange, and in her claws hung another Élu. Sébire's eyes widened as the daemon grinned. Her marks burned brighter and brighter and the mage in her claws writhed in pain.

 "Yvain!" Sébire screamed.

 Sébire did not know what happened after that. Rage blinded her and she activated her magic with such speed the daemon could not react.

 "Communication: Explosion supersonique!" Sébire called without thinking.

The fight lasted only long enough for that one spell to take effect. Sébire tapped deeper into her magic than she realized ever possible. The sound of bells paralyzed the daemon, forcing her to drop her prey. Sébire drove the spell harder, shouting as she did. Reacting to the sheer pressure of Sébire's sound-based magic, the creature's own magic collapsed in on itself and imploded. Sébire collapsed from the expenditure of magic, unharmed and uninjured. Her anima shouting warnings inside her mind and soul, mixed with fear and concern and dread. Sébire had not realized an anima could feel such things so deeply and intensely. It threatened to consume her.

 Her hearing was sharper than normal. Every sound reached her and was like an agonizing noise inside her mind. Every drop of rain as it hit the grass was like a drumbeat. She heard a sharp, pained inhale and she looked up, her eyes full of tears even as the rain washed them away.

 "Yvain!" she called, and scrambled towards where her husband was.
He lay in the grass, still alive, though barely. Sébire slid to a stop, leaning over him. Her hair hung down, thick and heavy with water. He coughed once and blood spilled down his chin.

 "Bijou," he gasped.

 "I'm here, Yvain," Sébire whispered, stroking his wet hair. "I'm here."

 "I wasn't dreaming, then," he sighed. "I thought I heard your bells. I knew you would come. I tried to wait for you."

 Sébire's voice caught in her throat as she moved his head gently into her lap. He cried out in pain, and she saw the extent of the wounds. His body had been shredded and broken as if he had been a mouse captured by a fox. She should have brought another Healer with her, but she knew with a glance nothing could be done for him.

 "I don't know why," he rasped. "It couldn't absorb my magic. Like it had, with the others."

 "Shh," Sébire soothed. "Don't try to talk anymore, Yvain."

 "Bijou," Yvain croaked, "let me hear your voice. I want it to stay in my mind."

 Sébire could only nod, and she leaned forward, closing her eyes tight. She pressed her forehead to his and took a shaky breath. She began singing the lullaby she had been chanting for Roland only a few moments earlier. Yvain's mouth twitched. Beside her, Sébire's staff was glowing brightly, and Sébire found her own memories entwining with all the ones Yvain held. As she sang, her magic sifted through Yvain's memories, only allowing him to see the best, happiest ones of his life. Of their life together. It was all she could do. At least his passing could be as peaceful as possible.

Why couldn't I have been a Healer? she asked herself.

 "Thank you, Bijou." Yvain's gasping breath grew fainter. "I love you."

 Sébire pressed her forehead more tightly against his.

 "I love you too, Yvain," she whispered.

 Her magic had drained from her, leaving her dizzy and lightheaded. Still cradling Yvain's head in her lap, she collapsed from exhaustion. Beside her, a shimmering, translucent figure appeared. She saw it out of the corner of her eye, but Sébire could not bring her vision into focus. The Bridge Gate reopened nearby, slicing through the human realm, and Sébire's eyes closed as a team of Élu came rushing towards her.

***

- Sébire -

When Sébire woke, she was screaming, and pain was erupting inside her head. She heard jumbled voices rushing around her, but they made no sense. How could there be so many people in so small a small space! Then she heard a child crying.

Roland! she thought and frantically tried to sit. She felt hands grabbing at her and holding her down.

 "Lady Sébire, calm down," ordered a voice.

 Sébire recognized it as Chikondi, but the sound of her voice was unbearable. Sébire twisted and jerked, trying to free herself. Finally, she felt hands on either side of her head, pressing over her ears, and everything was quieter. Sébire took several deep breaths and looked around. She was tied down with Inscribed cloth, and there was no one in the room except her and Chikondi.

Am I in the Hôtel-Ange? she wondered. What happened?

She felt the warm magic of Chikondi's healing hands course through her head. Everything around her seemed much quieter, now. Sébire closed her eyes, feeling complete relief. Chikondi stroked her hair gently and moved around to the side of Sébire's bed to sit down. Sébire opened her eyes and turned to look at the Healer.

 "Can you hear me?" Chikondi asked.

 Sébire arched an eyebrow and nodded. "Yes, why-"

 "Do you know where you are?"

 "Clearly I'm in the Hôtel-Ange de Lutèce," Sébire answered, growing irritated. "I don't understand. What's happened?"

 Chikondi looked at Sébire. "We brought you here early this morning. Do you remember anything that happened before you woke up just now?"

 "No, I," Sébire began, trying to recall the last memory in her mind. "I was singing. To Roland. Then I received a distress call from Shashi."

 Sébire's eyes widened, and she looked at Chikondi, whose expression remained frustratingly neutral. "No, I wasn't singing to Roland. I was singing to Yvain. Where is he? Where is my husband?"

 Chikondi reached for Sébire's hand and squeezed it. "Sébire, you were found in the middle of a massacre in the human realm. You were unconscious."

 "Where is Yvain?" demanded Sébire.

 "There were only five survivors, including you," Chikondi continued.

 Sébire shook her head, eyes wide. She was beginning to remember. The bodies, the blood... Yvain... "No. No," she gasped. "No, no, no!"

 Chikondi stood and placed her hands on Sébire's head again. "Guérison: Apaiser," she murmured.

 Sébire immediately calmed, unable to fight the anesthetic power of Chikondi's Gift. She was floating, half asleep, but aware of another voice nearby. Chikondi stood and left Sébire's side but did not leave the room.

 "When will she be awake?" The voice sounded like Grand Master Emyr.

 "She is awake now, but I have only just told her what happened. I will not have you barging in here with your questions and accusations!"

 "No accusations, Chikondi," Emyr assured the Healer. "But we have to know what happened."

 "You know what happened," hissed Chikondi. "You have four other witnesses, Emyr. Four!"

 "All of whom were comfortably unharmed in the sanctuary of a Déchu cathedral," protested Emyr.

 Emyr did not seem pleased. Sébire's heart raced. What did he mean, unharmed? Inside the Déchu's barrier? While her husband and the reserve team were slaughtered?

 "I have already told her about Yvain, do not make me describe my autopsies of the others again!"

 "No one is asking you to do that, Chikondi. Bon sang I don't think I could stomach hearing it again. But the Archmage is furious. She used a Bridge Gate without authorization, used her Gift on a fellow mage!"

 "Her husband was dying, Emyr!"

 "I know! Trust me, I will try to protect her. But it gets more complicated with each new bit of information. The only missing pieces are Sébire's side of the story, and we need to hear that."

 "She would not be able to explain why Adept Elysees was not there," Chikondi scoffed.

 "Maybe not," continued Emyr, ever patient, "but you yourself saw what I saw, her anima had manifested in the physical world. That has never happened in our history, Chikondi. We can't let that go!"

 "Not until she is well! Not until I say you can. Until then, leave. I outrank even the Archmage within the walls of the Hôtel-Ange, do I not, Grand Master?"

 Emyr sighed, and the receding footsteps informed Sébire he was indeed leaving. She had so many questions in her mind, but each time she nearly grasped on a thread of consciousness it slipped away again. Chikondi leaned over her, smiling softly.

 "You will be fine, Sébire. I will have someone bring Roland to you."

 Sébire's body was numb. Chikondi patted her softly, like a mother comforting a child.
"Who else survived?" Sébire asked, her voice hoarse.

 "Most everyone who went with Master Yvain. They were found inside the cathedral along with a Déchu child, who had raised a healing barrier over them. Every single one of them, healed and whole."

 "But not Yvain," Sébire sighed. "Why? Why did they hide like cowards while my husband was tortured to death?"

 Chikondi opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it again. Sébire lay her head back and closed her eyes.

 "They said he ordered them to the cathedral," Chikondi finally said. "Would it have been better to lose them all? Yvain is a hero, Sébire."

 "What good is a hero who's dead?" Sébire responded, a sharp edge to her voice. Chikondi nodded her head in acknowledgment. "What's this about Adept Elysees being missing?"

 "Ah, well. We are still trying to piece together everyone's testimony. It's fractured, and some of them were unconscious at different times. All we can surmise is the daemon came, specifically it seems, for Kassandra. We found no body, only a heap of bloodied robes and fragments of her staff, turned to limestone."

 "She's dead?"

 Chikondi sighed. "No one knows if she is alive or dead. Lady Thérèse was the only one awake when she saw the daemon stab her through the heart, a wound which matches the tatters of Kassandra's robes."

 "When I was there," Sébire said softly, "the daemon had drained some Élu of their Gift so completely that one turned to dust when I touched it. Only their robes were left."

 Eyes wide, Chikondi swallowed as if holding back a sob. "Then we should inform her family. You, however, need rest. You need to process everything that has happened. The rest of the Mastery wants to hear you speak, but I will hold them off for as long as I can."

 "What did Emyr mean, my anima manifested in the physical world?"

 "Ah," Chikondi shook her head, waving off Sébire's question. "A trick or illusion, surely."

 This did not appease Sébire, and she glared at Chikondi until the Healer explained further. "When we arrived, there was a figure dressed in rags and carrying a large bell. It was translucent, but the same color as your azurite staff. It looked at us, then disappeared, as if running away to return to your staff."

 Sébire's breath caught in her throat. That description was exactly how Eru looked. How had that happened. She wanted so badly to ask more questions, but Chikondi stood up and pressed her hand to Sébire's forehead.

 "Sleep now. I will block your dreams as best I can so that your mind can be silent."

 Sébire could not argue. Her tongue and eyes were heavy, and she drifted off into the quiet, promised sleep.