Madeline was in a hall distant from where she’d started when she heard the bell.
It sounds like we’re being called.
But…
But she didn’t immediately turn back. She stood in the hall, staring at the expanse before her. Pristine silver walls, floors, ceiling, with ornate arches every twenty feet, until the hall curved out of sight in the distance. Bracketed in the walls on either side were lanterns glimmering with white light.
I…
“You feel it, too.”
Madeline took a step back, gasping at the sudden voice. There, just five feet in front of her, stood a young boy. He couldn’t be older than six, with a shock of curly red hair, fair skin, and simple white tunic, pants, and slippers.
But Madeline couldn’t read his expression. Aside from his mouth, set in a thin, expressionless line, the upper half of his face was covered by an eyeless silver mask, not unlike the one the Silver Star Matron wore.
“You…” Madeline started, staring at the boy. “Where did you come from?”
“You feel it, too,” the boy said again. “Don’t you?”
Madeline paused, and a moment later, nodded. “There’s something…” She looked past the boy, down the long corridor. “Something heavy. A… presence. A presence that… shouldn’t be here.”
She struggled to put her feelings into words, because, well…
This isn’t ordinary. This sensation… it’s like something out of an anime, or a fantasy novel. Being able to just “sense” things, presences and magic and the like, without using magic to do so…
It was Madeline’s secret, like the magical drawings were Fae’s secret. Something strange, something unexplained, something most mages would make fun of at best, dismiss as lunacy at worst. But she could feel things like that often. She knew when people were near, and she knew when people were using magic, and what types of magic they used.
As soon as she’d started exploring the Silver Star Sanctuary alone, she’d felt this… presence. A heavy, huge force, some kind of being unlike anything she’d ever felt before, deep within the Sanctuary. Curiosity had spurred her on, drawn her deeper through the winding corridors and down grand, spiraling staircases, through impossible rooms the likes of which she’d never seen before.
But it wasn’t just curiosity.
There was something… dark about this presence. It felt dangerous, and in a place that the Star sisters had sought so long, that Fae had sought so long with them…
Madeline couldn’t allow danger to ruin what should be a monumental victory for them.
“So you know,” the boy said. Though his mask covered his eyes, Madeline could tell he was looking straight at her. He turned. “Follow.”
And then… he faded into nothingness.
Wha—…?
Fifty feet down the corridor, the boy faded back into existence. He turned around, staring at Madeline. “Follow,” he repeated.
How did he…?
No. Now’s not the time for questioning everything strange that pops up. There’s plenty stranger that I’ve already passed without questioning.
Just follow, like he said.
But as she took a step forward, the boy held up a hand. “We mustn’t be pursued,” he said.
So Madeline turned back, peering out the door to the corridor. Seeing no one, she turned back into the corridor…
And gasped, leaping back in surprise.
The boy was right in front of her.
“We’re… not being pursued,” Madeline said.
“Good,” the boy said. He turned away. “Follow.” Once again, he faded out into nothingness, then faded back in fifty feet away.
It’s gonna take a bit to get used to that. That’s not Blinking — Blinking is instantaneous. So what kind of magic is this?
Well, at least he’s waiting for me and not outright disappearing.
Madeline followed, and once she reached the boy, he pulled his vanishing act again, fading back into existence at the curve of the corridor, then walking around the turn and out of sight.
“Hold on a second!” Madeline called after him. She ran down the corridor, and as soon as she turned the corner — “Whoa!”
The boy was right in front of her, so close she’d barely been able to stop herself from crashing into him. She let out a sigh. “Listen,” she said. “You’ve gotta stop popping up right in front of me when I’m not ready for it. Startling me over and over again isn’t good for either of us.”
The boy stared at her, silent for a long moment. Then he bowed his head. “Sorry,” he said. Then he turned and vanished again, reappearing farther down the corridor, at another bend. This time he waited until Madeline caught up with him before walking a bit. There was no need for the teleportation trick, it seemed, as the hall’s exit was just a few feet beyond this last turn. Madeline and the boy emerged onto a balcony, a balmy, salty breeze tossing Madeline’s hair.
This place really is way too strange.
She’d passed through other rooms like that, complete outdoor environments, and each one was different from the last. She’d passed through a snowy garden, a steaming hot spring, an autumnal grove, and now…
She saw the ocean.
She’d descended quite a ways in her journey through the Sanctuary, and yet she was still so high up on this balcony. Down below a sheer drop of white cliffs was the ocean, stretching out endlessly ahead towards the distant horizon.
“There,” the boy said, pointing. Madeline had to squint, but she finally realized what the boy pointed to: an island, tiny in the distance, so that she couldn’t make out even the faintest detail.
“How are we going to go so far?” Madeline asked.
“Not far,” the boy said. He touched the edge of the balcony’s wall, and it melted away, and then…
Madeline couldn’t grasp exactly what happened. The entire world seemed to warp, twisting and spinning in a wild whirl, colors and shapes blurring and melting together.
And then…
It all came back into proper view. But now, though the ocean was still so vast, the island was suddenly just below them, no more than twenty yards out from the cliffs. The wall of the balcony was now a staircase descending down to the island, on which a wide stone gazebo stood.
“Will you still come?” the boy asked, looking up at Madeline. There was worry in his tone.
Does he really think I’d turn back now?
“Yeah, let’s go,” Madeline said. She started down the stairs, while the boy faded away, fading back into existence at the bottom and waiting for her there.
Down on the island, the sand wasn’t at all soft like Madeline expected. It turned out it was just the thinnest layer of sand, a light dusting over what was really a solid, rocky ground. Despite this, four trees grew around the gazebo, their flowering branches stretching out as if to shield the gazebo’s roof from the sun.
“It isn’t here,” Madeline said.
“No,” the boy said, striding into the shade the gazebo offered. “But she is. And we won’t be heard here.”
Madeline entered the gazebo, looking around. But it was just her and the boy. Until…
She’d turned around in a full circle, and suddenly someone else was standing beside the boy. It was a young girl, the same age as the boy, dressed like him. But she didn’t wear a mask. That, and her distinctive hair color and style, made Madeline pause. She’d only ever seen one other person with that hair color and style before…
“Hello,” the girl said, gazing up at Madeline with a curious, thoughtful stare.
“Hello,” Madeline said. “Who are you?”
The girl nodded once, a strange response to that question. But then she spoke, confirming Madeline’s suspicions even as she made things more confusing: “My name is Neptune Star.”
——
“Here we are,” Toryu said, gesturing to a pair of large double-doors. “After you.”
Fae nodded, stepping up to the doors with Olivia and Sonya. She pushed the doors, and they swung inward with little effort. And inside…
“Fae!” came the cry from Mercury, standing up from the table she, her sisters, and the Matron were sitting at. At the sight of that perfect smile, the sound of that enthusiastic call, Fae’s heart lifted.
“There is a darkness here,” huh? I don’t doubt it — I won’t brush off that boy’s warning.
But there’s light. Right there, right in front of me.
She smiled, and she, Olivia, and Sonya came to sit with the Star sisters, Mercury excited to sit next to her, with Olivia on the other side. Across from them sat the Matron, while Toryu sat off to the side, puffing lazily on his pipe, watching everything with that unceasing bemused smile.
The room they sat in was spacious, with a crystal chandelier overhead, and silvery-white walls, floor, and ceiling that disguised the features of the room. It took Fae quite some time to realize there were two grand pianos in the room, silver like the walls instead of the usual black, and the piano benches were the same color, blending easily into the room. The same went for a huge, gorgeous drum set of the same color, and racks of guitars and bass guitars along the wall.
Silver and white for everything, huh? It felt more inviting out in the garden, but I guess this is okay. The sisters look perfectly happy.
Mercury was beaming as always, but Jupiter was also grinning, and Neptune had a light, pleased look in her eyes, a small smile playing at her lips. Across from them, however, the Matron looked stoic.
Strange after her excitement to see the others. What’s going through her head right now?
“The Star sisters told me of all you did for them, Fae Greyson,” the Matron said, nodding to Fae.
Why does everyone in the Dominion insist on calling me “Fae Greyson?” It feels weird to constantly get that. Just call me Fae.
But she didn’t make that argument. She’d told others to just call her Fae before, but with the Matron, she was all ears.
The masked boy wouldn’t come with us in here. The “darkness”… does it have to do with the Matron?
“I must extend a heartfelt thanks to you,” the Matron continued, rising from her seat and bowing low. “Thank you, Fae Greyson, for helping these girls find their way back to me.”
“ ‘Back’?” Fae asked.
“There’s still a lot of questions we haven’t had answered,” Mercury said. “But apparently we were here up until we arrived in Grimoire with most of our memories gone.”
“After you told me your story,” the Matron said, “I thought I should have Fae here as well for a proper explanation of things. It seems it pertains to her, in some small way, at least. And I hoped that —” She paused, cocking her head to the side as she seemed to stare at Fae through her eyeless mask. “Wasn’t there one other in your number?”
Fae hesitated. She’d noticed Madeline wasn’t here, but…
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Is she investigating something important? Or is she in trouble?
“Ah, I understand,” the Matron said. “She’s at the Deep Shore. Though I wonder why…? No matter. She is in no danger, and the answers I have to provide do not pertain to her. The Silver Star Sanctuary is a vast place unaccustomed to strangers — it’s not at all surprising she would seek to explore as much as she can.”
Be safe, Madeline. Us being apart might be the best thing right now — assuming you’re okay, and you’re learning important things.
“So…” Mercury started, looking across the table nervously. “I’m… well, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. But I’m guessing from how things have been so far… you’re not… well, you know… our…”
“You’re not our mother, are you?” Neptune asked. Jupiter ducked her head, closing her eyes as if bracing for the impact of the truth.
“I am not,” the Matron said. “I… am sorry to have to say it. But I… did have a large role in your upbringing. In a way… I have served as your mother for most of your lives.”
“You’re the only one here, right?” Jupiter asked. “I mean, aside from Dragon-turtle over there. Which means…”
“That is correct,” the Matron said. “Toryu and I are the only ones here — not counting the seven of you, of course. And so you wish… to know of your parents. Yes, that is understandable as the first question.”
“They didn’t suffer, did they?” Jupiter asked. Mercury and Neptune both shot her sharp glares, which Jupiter withered under, but she didn’t back down from her line of questioning. “I just… if they’re not here, and they’re not in Grimoire, then they’re… dead. Right?”
“That is… correct,” the Matron said softly, bowing her head. “I am sorry. Your parents have been dead for a long time.”
“Ah…” Mercury said softly, leaning back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. Neptune stared at the table, her hair shifting forward to hide her eyes from Fae’s view. “So that’s… how it is, huh?”
“They did not suffer,” the Matron said. “Not in death. They suffered quite a lot in life, a trail of suffering and pain that led them to my door. Your parents arrived here, the most surprising visitors I have ever had, battered and broken, exhausted from travel and conflict they wouldn’t speak of. Your father… he asked only for sanctuary for his wife. For when they arrived here… you three had come with them, too.”
“We… were here with them from the start,” Mercury said, staring.
“Quite literally,” the Matron said. “Your mother was pregnant with the three of you. She gave birth mere hours after arriving here.”
“The Matron and I thought we were going to lose her,” Toryu said. “But your mother clung to life fiercely. She wanted to make sure she held you girls, at least once. That she could see your faces, feel your skin. That she could give her precious children the perfect names.” He had a wistful look in his eyes, his usually mischievous smile one of wonder. “Neptune, Mercury, Jupiter. That’s the order she held you, the order she named you. But she didn’t die, even then. Indeed, she made a full recovery, as did your father.”
“We were… born here?” Jupiter asked.
“And our parents were here with us,” Mercury said. “But then… what happened to them?”
“Their pursuers had done something to them,” the Matron said. “Shortly before they escaped to my door… their deaths had already been secured.”
“Poison, of a kind I’ve never seen before or since,” Toryu said. “It’s a miracle your mother survived to give birth. But even more a miracle that she and your father still lived another five years.”
“They had anticipated such an attack,” the Matron said, “though they never explained why. They knew effective Healing Magic for such a toxin. Or… so they thought.”
“It was a most sinister venom,” Toryu said. “When they thought it had been purged, it had merely gone into hiding. Waiting, biding its time. All it took was a simple catalyst — illness.”
“Illness is common among young children,” the Matron said. “And… it easily spreads to the parents. Though not normally life-threatening…”
“It served as a trigger to awaken the poison,” Neptune said, still looking down. “They caught something benign from us, and it led to their deaths.”
“Swift and painless though they were,” Toryu said, “…yes. That is what happened.”
“Then we…” Mercury started, her voice trembling.
“You must never blame yourself,” the Matron said. “Not for this. Not ever. A child has no control over whether they catch a cold or run a fever. And none of us had ever seen or heard of a poison like the one that struck your parents. It was not something any of us could have anticipated, and when it struck… there was no time to treat it.”
“But they didn’t suffer,” Jupiter said, her voice hollow
“Died in their sleep,” Toryu said. “With nary a nightmare or tremor.”
“So… they died right next to each other,” Jupiter said. “And at the same time, in their sleep…”
“Kind of peaceful,” Mercury said. “Kind of… romantic, in a way.” But she didn’t speak more, wiping at her eyes and shaking her head.
Neptune pulled out the locket and opened it. “Five years…” she said softly. She held up the locket to show the picture of the triplets as children to the Matron. “Were they alive for this?”
The Matron nodded, a small smile on her lips. “They were,” she said. “And if you’re wondering why they aren’t in the picture, they insisted on taking it. You three were inseparable since you were in the womb, and that never changed. Your parents took many pictures of the three of you together. But there are some pictures here of all five of you together.”
“Pictures of our parents?” Mercury asked, staring through teary eyes. “And us with them?”
“Indeed, my dear,” Toryu said, nodding. He stood, tottering towards a different door than the one they’d entered from. “I’ll go find them, shall I? There’s still plenty for you three to ask and hear, after all.”
“Th-thank you,” Mercury managed. She met Toryu’s eyes when he glanced back at her, smiling.
“You’re quite welcome, Mercury,” Toryu said. “And, if it isn’t too presumptuous of me… welcome back, Star sisters. Welcome back.” He turned away, exiting the room.
“We kept living here even after that, correct?” Neptune asked. “We were here… until we awoke in Grimoire. That’s nearly two decades.”
“Correct,” the Matron said. “In that time… well, it would be better with pictures to tell all the stories I long to tell. But the great central core of your relationship with each other and your parents, and eventually with me, was always music.”
“Music…?” Mercury asked.
“All the way from the beginning?” Jupiter asked.
“Oh, yes,” the Matron said, smiling the first full smile Fae had seen. “While you were here, music filled these halls night and day. It was nearly impossible to keep you girls away from instruments, to get any words out of you that weren’t set to some melody.”
“Music was all we had when we woke up in Grimoire,” Jupiter said, Conjuring up one of her drumstick Talismans and twirling it. “So it’s… always been with us. Like it’s in our blood.”
“But I don’t understand what happened,” Mercury said. “Why did we ever leave? Why Grimoire? Why did we lose our memories?”
“Long stories, to be sure,” the Matron said. “But I will tell all, I assure you. Your memories… perhaps that is where we should start. That, truly, is one thing I did not ever expect to happen.”
——
“You’re… Neptune?” Madeline asked, staring at the little girl who couldn’t possibly be Neptune… but couldn’t possibly be anyone else. She’d seen the picture of the Star sisters in the locket, and while this Neptune was a little older than in the picture, there was no mistaking her.
But… how?
“That’s correct,” Neptune said with a short, business-like nod. She looked aside at the masked boy. “You didn’t notice the difference.”
“Difference?” the boy asked, cocking his head to the side. “Her memories…”
“Are intact,” Neptune said. “She is not Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth?” Madeline asked.
“Elizabeth Crowley,” the boy said. “She came before. A friend. We sent a message… she should have…”
But Madeline was struggling to listen to him.
Elizabeth Crowley? They know…
“You met my mother?” she asked, staring wide-eyed at the children.
“Ah, so that’s it,” Neptune said. “Why you feel the same, but not.”
“Mother-daughter,” the masked boy said. “You are… Crowley?”
“Madeline Elizabeth Crowley,” Madeline said. “My middle name… was my mother’s first name.”
“Past tense,” Neptune said. “Then Elizabeth… is dead?”
Madeline let out a long, slow breath that held emotions she couldn’t convey. She nodded. “She… died when I was very young. But you… you’re saying she’s been here? You know her?”
“Yes,” the masked boy said. “You have the message?”
Madeline nodded, pulling out her message-in-a-bottle. She’d kept the bottle, not just the message, and dumped the paper into her palm, carefully unfolding it. She noticed it, then — on the corner was written “Crowley,” but nothing else. She’d thought it was for her because of that, and clearly Oliver had as well, but now she saw a faint smudge in front of the last name — a smudge that, on closer inspection, could never have been “Madeline.” “Elizabeth,” on the other hand…
It would fit perfectly.
“So you’ve seen it,” the boy said.
“But I don’t understand it yet,” Madeline said. “I… I’ve been to the Hall of Reflections. Is this there?”
“You’ve been to the Hall?” Neptune asked.
“Very few can enter,” the boy said.
“Meister Roderick never said anything,” Madeline said.
“The Cartographers never say everything they know,” Neptune said. “But they would have noticed right away that you could enter.”
“The Key is there,” the boy said, pointing to the drawing on Madeline’s message. “Very important. Don’t lose that.”
“I won’t,” Madeline said, putting the paper back in the bottle and using Conjuring Magic to put the bottle in safe, untouchable magical space. “So… you thought I was my mother. I still don’t understand. She was here? But how? When? And… how can you be Neptune? I’m sorry, but I know Neptune, and she’s upstairs, and much older than you. This is all… there’s so much. And it’s all too confusing.”
“One at a time,” Neptune said. “Yes, your mother was here, and we met her, on multiple occasions. There’s much to tell about her. As for me… the older Neptune is me. We’re the same, but not.”
“What does that mean?” Madeline asked.
Neptune bobbed her head from side to side for a moment, pondering. Then she nodded that brief, serious nod again. “The older me doesn’t remember. She doesn’t have my memories. Ultimately… that’s why I’m here.”