[CURRENT] Renewal

[Melancholies]

Oliver watched the display of magic with a certain sort of awestruck. For as tired as he was with magic, for as much as it impeded his life, this... was magnificent, really. Odal was not someone he wanted to incur the wrath of, his jovial and kind disposition aside. Now was the important part. Now was the time to cast. His hands went to his front as he focused, his eyes drifting shut as everyone's magic manifested to his senses. What would be less disorientating; this, or walking into a Yankee candle store? It was hard to tell.

Shall there still be differentiation?

"Yeah." He said resolutely, "There should be. It's the balance of things."

Shall the spirit-bond be reborn?

"To those who wish to seek it. Who am I to argue?" It was never something he'd want to pursue himself, but he could understand those that sought it. A power that could threaten the stability of the cage... it sounded immense.

Shall the Court remain a space within these walls?

"On behalf of my brother, it should. On behalf of everyone else who wants a space in this realm devoted to their affiliations, it should. For the fetches, it should. Why tear it down?" He shook his head. There was no need to destroy it.

Shall the noble geas be destroyed?

"No." This is where his tirade from earlier bore itself again, "The Court is dangerous. Nobility is dangerous. In the same breath, we can be dangerous too, and the Wargs can be dangerous, and the spirit-bound can be dangerous too; but we don't last through the cycles. We don't need those checks. What we need is something more refined. Something that isn't policed by any one individual. Something that is unbiased and ruthless in morality. We don't need the geas for that, not how it stands now." He laughed, "Let there be trials—real trials—and let this be a Court in the legitimate sense. Let people have a say. Let us come to our own conclusions. There are better forms of justice. There are better punishments too."

His thumb burned with phantom pains.

Shall we limit the time for which nobility serves?

"Yes. No one needs to live forever. And for ******** sake, we don't need another Burning Man."

Shall we elect new nobles with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?

"Yes. Let this new document be built on the foundations of consent. Nothing dubious. Nothing forced."

Shall the moonwalkers be selected with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?

"Yes."

Shall the wargs be selected with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?

"Yes." He breathed.

And shall those whose explorations of magic have brought them to a new state of being be protected and safeguarded by those who take upon themselves these responsibilities?

"Until now and forever, let this Charter reserve a place for everyone."

Will you swear to create a pathway for those who wish to return to the life of a nonmagical human?

"If they wish for it. By all means."

And so it was sealed. Oliver had no other thoughts. He had no other concerns. My magic is mine to do with as I please. I lend it to this Charter under that circumstance. The second the magic I've given is led astray, I will fight to take it back, and I will win. I won't be used anymore. I won't be guilted. And I'll make sure the people who try to take that away again— His hands lowered to his sides—I'll make sure they pay.

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Temperance was tired, but the combined pull of their magic refreshed her, twining through her like an infusion of energy. She smiled to watch Kaleb and America and Leila work. She remembered how selfless Kaleb was, how he offered of himself each time, wanted to be, above all, useful. She wanted to talk to him later, although she felt apprehensive about what would happen after they were all done. She breathed in deeply, watching the wend and weft of the hair around the frame, like some homunculus. Was there even a better word for it? It was what replaced Melany, the container for magic.

She thought of the girl's arm and felt her magic stretch between her fingers like fine threads. But Odal was speaking and it was time. Temperance breathed deeply, and when she spoke, she pushed the intent behind her voice, sending it out - roots threaded in the syllables of her voice.

"Yes" Limitless potential and the paths it would tread. And more, more, always.

"Yes." Why not? They were torn asunder once; let them be made whole.

"No." The geas was a tool and, like any other tool, dangerous but useful.

For the next question she remained silent, unsure what to feel. She'd begged and scraped to be a part of the nobility here. Temperance did not want to stripped of that.

The next question received a simple 'yes', though. Kidnapping, unawareness - these were not viable methods of obtaining new nobles.

The following two questions garnered a 'yes' from her again. Temperance acknowledged, though, that the magic could, and like would continue to choose it's own people at random, regardless of the best laid plans of them all in this moment.

Protection, of course, got a resounding "Yes." And for the fetches, she could only respond in the affirmative. She clasped her hands in front of her. And her hands. And her hands. Sometime, while he's been concentrating so fiercely, she'd summoned forth her arms. Temperance welcomed the weight of them now as they laid in front of her abdomen. So, she thought. My magic.... Take it from me... Take me. That the magic be a guiding force instead of something to be caged. That no abuse should be perpetrated, that unnatural death be writ out and no longer required. She took a deep breath.  

[The Semblance of Unity]

Preacher figured this was it. If there was a moment where the song 'The Final Countdown' was kind of appropriate, this was it. She was just kind of glad everything had stopped convulsing around them. The magic's death throes, she guessed, and this was them reviving it somehow. Necromancers of magic. She barely resisted the urge to snort. Well, if this all worked, maybe she and Chester wouldn't have to get all wrinkly and corpsified. It wasn't that she was vain, really, but living forever seemed daunting, even if she didn't wanna repeat.

She supposed she should be focusing on the way those people at the center were doing their magic thing. And Odal was speaking too, and as people answered it sounded like some sort of ritualistic chant.

Differentiation? "HELLA," Preacher said loudly. There were a lot of people and she was entirely too short and needed to be heard.

Spirit-bonding?"ONLY IF A BODY WANNA. I DON'T." Preacher held no desire to mire herself any further in the sphere of weres and wargs. She liked being a mink and that was pretty much it.

And, then the court's space. Let the court be all courtly, even if the magic there had funny ******** ideas about dress. "WHY THA ******** NOT?"

Nobility limits.... why wasn't it like any other political office, anyhow? "SURE."

More noble s**t. Preacher didn't necessarily care, but she answered all the same. "YEAH N' STUFF."

The next two questions about moonwalkers and wargs were met with the same answer, a shouted: "HELL YEAH." Her throat was beginning to hurt, but she continued to glare orangely at the center of the circle.

"YEAH, SURE." Be a guide, or something. Help people out, blah blah blah - the standard, wasn't it?

Did she swear? "EVERY DAMN DAY, YEAH."

No emotions pilin' in m'head that ain't mine. Sonny to be let out n' about. Like, they should live normally. Choice. In everythin'. ******** pack touch with a ********' splintery broomhandle. For nobles ta not be enforcers, but a resource. Like a person library. For weres n' wargs ta know what tha hell we supposed ta be doin'. Police force or whatever. I guess for old corpsey fetch folks to go 'bout n' get another go. Did I say '******** pack touch'? Tap tap tap went her fingers.

Don't ********' manipulate me.  

[Grey Dragon]

Kaleb's voice was barely a whisper as he too responded to the questions Odal posed for them. Somehow he knew it wasn't the volume that was important, his gentle voice would never overpower anyone in a crowd anyway, but the intent and honesty in which his answers were given. Saying it out loud, even in a whisper, would bind those words into the magic he was drawing from the room.

"Yes, everyone's worked so hard for their skills and bonds..."

"Yes, let those who want it have something more to aspire to."

"Yes, we all ended up here to make things better, please let this continue to be a place where things can be made better."

"Yes, nobody..." Kaleb's voice broke. "Nobody should be forced to harm themselves or another. There has to be a better way, one that can't be used with malice."

"Yes, forever is far too long. Let them have peace when they are ready, before they have to break, before they have to become bitter, or insane, or tired of this world."

The rest were yes as well. Although Kaleb was not a warg or a were or a noble, he thought about all the people he had met who had taken one of those three paths. None of them deserved to take on a burden they were not ready to accept. Nobody did.

While balance and justice might have weighed heavily into some of the caster's thoughts, Kaleb's own hopes for the future were driven by compassion. He desperately wanted good to come out of this new charter, he wanted to see his friends smile, he wanted those who were even smaller than himself to have the chance to thrive. The magic around him was so bright and beautiful to his senses, he wanted others to have a chance to see it as something this awe inspiring as well, not a source of fear or oppression.

Please... let there be new hope... He focused on his own gentle thoughts at the end, humbled by the sheer volume of magic that passed through his fingers. Please let us keep each other safe under this new charter, and move forward in a way that is not guided by hate, or fear, or pain. Please give us the chance to to be kind...  

[Smerdle]

The only thing Theo could think of as the magic was coming to its height was how grateful he was that Temperance had started him out small. It was both amazing and slightly uncomfortable to find himself tied together with so many, but the good thing was, nobody would likely pay him any mind while he muttered his answers to Odal's questions.

Shall there still be differentiation?
"Damn straight." Without Toto he would have still been lost.

Shall the spirit-bond be reborn?
"Sure." It wasn't for him, but some people seemed to be in favor of it.

Shall the Court remain a space within these walls?
"Yup." Though Theo didn't feel particularly strongly about a number of these questions, he tried to put as much intent behind his answers as he could. The Court as a physical space wasn't hurting anyone, and once again, other people seemed to care.

Shall the noble geas be destroyed?
This response was harder. After seeing what nobles were capable of in the Burning Man, Theo certainly thought that it would be beneficial for there to be a way for everyone else to stop them from committing atrocities with a choice couple of words. But if their terms were shortened, as had been discussed, maybe they wouldn't go crazy? He gave a tentative, "Yes," on this one, since the current nobility didn't seem all that murderous.

Shall we limit the time for which nobility serves?
And then his fears were soothed. That helped. "Yes."

Shall we elect new nobles with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?
"Yeah."

Shall the moonwalkers be selected with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?
"Yup."

Shall the wargs be selected with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?
"Yes, they should." He felt more strongly about that, and therefore, it got a longer reply.

Shall those whose explorations of magic have brought them to a new state of being be protected and safeguarded by those who take upon themselves these responsibilities?
Stupid question. Odal got a nod.

Will you swear to create a pathway for those who wish to return to the life of a nonmagical human?
Again, Theo hesitated. He hadn't really known this had been on the docket, and given what he had experienced he doubted they actually had any say on who the magic grabbed onto or gave up. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to try, but he wasn't all that optimistic about their success. Another nod, this one more brief.

When left to his own devices, Theo reiterated his thoughts on Toto's safety and longevity, then fell silent, bowing his head.  

[The Semblance of Unity]

He took a deep breath. His hair was given and now it was being woven into the new body along with everyone else's. Their will, their magic, their desire for something new and better and safer... Horace hoped Melany was okay.

Odal instructed them all to speak as one - a strange combination of both individuality and togetherness. While he certainly wanted to know why Odal disliked him, and he wanted to ask Silk things, and he had questions about the fact that he could feel both Oliver and Elliot in the back of his head... Horace pushed that all away for now. If was time to use his perfected 'I don't have time for anxiety so I will use tunnel vision' mode. This was it. His hands worried each others, fingers tracing round and round the scar at the base of his left ring finger.

'Speak your minds', said Odal, and Horace obliged. Each question was answered with a short, simple yes. His motives he would embed in his magic, his desires, his hopes for the future. Differentiation was so important; it allowed hope and specialization and was a culmination of sorts for the limitless possibilities for the undifferentiated. Plus, he really adored Nugget.

The spirit bound he didn't exactly understand, but he wanted all options available. The court's space (how could he vote to destroy a space so many fetches made their home?), the geas, the limits of term for nobility.... No one should be forced to persist forever. That was how the Spinel Lady happened, the Burning Man, that was how Silk got so tired she wanted to stop. Horace swallowed, his lips dry.

Intent, intent, intent - he said yes, but he wondered if he would have ever chosen Nugget. Perhaps it was best that the bat chose him, even if it had been frightening at first. How could he not say yes to a protector's pledge or to a way to free those people who didn't want the magic? Horace thought briefly of Oliver and the way some of his magic weighed on him like a burden. He swore that maybe he could feel the magic, too, maybe. It was weird.

He exhaled, unaware that he'd been holding his breath.  

[Smerdle]

He held his breath until he nearly whited out, regaining his focus as the fetch started asking questions. Rabbit answered yes to every one, wavering only on the complete erasure of the geas and the election of future nobles, still secretly convinced that his own abduction and harsh tithing had been one of the most positive experiences in his life.

Well, in hindsight.

Okay fine, it had been fairly traumatic, both for himself and the people Mynn had touched, but what he had now had been worth the pain. If everyone had to choose nobility in the future, instead of having it abruptly thrust upon them, eventually things would end up just like the government. Magical career politicians. They seemed about as ideal as kidnapping.

As far as the geas was concerned, Rabbit's desire to rid himself of it was entirely selfish and for the good of his children first and foremost, but from the decent amount of support doing away with it seemed to be receiving, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the motivations of others. He tried to focus on that courtroom thing America had proposed, the ability to compel those who had done wrong to a trial of sorts, but he wasn't sure he was being clear about his intentions at all. At the very least, he was certain about putting an end to the possibility of forced self harm and harm toward others. The hope that he held in his heart with regard to stopping the violence the Court had been built on topped all else, and he concentrated on that through his uncertainty, fairly sure that such intent wouldn't irreparably harm anything.  

[saedusk]

There were three things Jamie felt as he watched the weaving and lent his focus to it. One was pride, much like Shiloh, for their mutual friend who was doing his very best. Another was a weird balance of power that resonated somewhere between a calm breeze and a wild wind whipping through his hair. The magic was very there, very palpable, and shifted with the differing opinions in the room. It was just like everyday life.

The final thing Jamie felt was Shiloh—their hands held tightly together, their minds sharp and focused and one. He absolutely could sense the give in their headspace, what felt like a collapse, but the support system they'd built kept things steady. If there was something to address, they would address it in private later, in a space where they could worry only about themselves.

Right now, here with everyone else, they had other pressing things to worry about. When the questions came, Jamie answered them softly and honestly. There was no room for doubt.

Shall there still be differentiation?
"Yes." It was all that needed to be said. Jamie may have worried long ago about being a monster, but he was far beyond that now.

Shall the spirit-bond be reborn?
The answer on the tip of his tongue was bolstered by Shiloh's, by the fact he knew the support was for him and him alone. "Yes," he said, "but it should be something that's earned. If it's really as powerful as people have said, then give it to those who are willing to work for it and act responsibly."

Shall the Court remain a space within these walls?
"Yes, for everyone. Especially fetches so they'll always have somewhere to go."

Shall the noble geas be destroyed?
"As it is, yes, but I hope there can be some sort of fair system to keep people from stepping out of line, even if it's for all magical beings and not just nobles."

Shall we limit the time for which nobility serves?
"Yes, to make sure leadership doesn't stagnate, but also to make sure no one lives on longer than is healthy for them..."

Shall we elect new nobles and shall moonwalkers and wargs be selected with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?
"Yes," and this particular yes was poignant for Jamie. Becoming a moonwalker without warning and without any help had made accepting himself for who he was extremely difficult. Even worse, his absolute favorite person had been kidnapped and tortured and forced into his own role. Things like that were disgusting. Things like that should never have happened.

"Oh, um, and I hope for the wargs that... there's a way to keep them from being separated from their familiars, should they die. Also... it might be nice for some people if the moonwalkers' pack touch was optional...?" Was this the proper time to bring up such things?

And shall those whose explorations of magic have brought them to a new state of being be protected and safeguarded by those who take upon themselves these responsibilities?
"Yes."

Will you swear to create a pathway for those who wish to return to the life of a nonmagical human?
"Yes, because there are people I know who deserve a second chance..."

And that was that, or close to it. In his head he could hear Shiloh's wishes, could feel them. They resonated with Jamie on a level he wasn't certain anyone else would understand. Maybe it was naive to think living out a piece of eternity together was viable, but it was something he'd fight for, something he wanted.

Me too, he thought, mirroring Shiloh, Where he goes, I want to be with him. For as long as time flows like this, I want to be together.

They'd find a way.

I'm okay... he replied to Shiloh, a smile in the sound of his mental voice. I'm... hopeful. It was a risk, but Jamie took it.

Melancholies

 

[lizbot]

The first time America had felt her being tighten until she'd all but disappeared, three inches tall and treated to a new world, she laid on Taym's chest and found the cathedral of his ribs, the beat of life thumping its own steady prayer. The beating hearts and flowing magic merge with the chorus of their intent; America's sense of purpose, her trust and determination swell with it.

When she answers her voice is solemn and firm, but her smile is loud as anything.

"Yes." Let there be differentiation. Let there be guardians. Let there be guides. Let there be consequences beyond revenge.

"Yes." Let the spirit bond reborn. Let them grow to their fullest potential.

"Yes." Let the court remain. Let there be a central area where thoughts and magics are gathered with purpose.

"Yes." Let it be remade into something cleaner, something meant to protect all.

"Yes." Let no one be trapped, alone, their self diminishing with every turn of the cycle.

"Yes." Let them choose and let them serve the purpose of their role.

"Yes." Let them choose and let them serve the purpose of their role.

"Yes." Let her choose and let her serve the purpose of her role.

"Yes." Let magic be good to people and let people learn to be good to each other.

"Yes." She swears, because she loves magic and the people she's walked this other path with. She loves them both enough to do her utmost to create a path going the other way. Let people live their lives. Let them grow in the ways they wish. And let them walk away from this world intact and of their volition.

The smile was still there when Odal took her hands, even though there were tears streaming down America's cheeks. She's never heard the word kavanagh in her life, but there's a weight in its syllables that feels right, hitting the chest and gut just so. With a nod, she waits a few breaths until the feeling is complete, when it's ready to exhale and exult in one another.

The Charter was something that had haunted them all in one way or another for over a year now, whether they had known it or not. There were tragedies in its making and throughout its existence. And now it was gone and they've taken the responsibility to try again, a new start and a wiser one, a more caring one.

It was good, Odal's words ring like a bell through America's mind as she clipped the thread and ended the casting.  

[cibarium]

The hair becoming the thread of power wasn't something Leila had expected -- how could she, not knowing what form the consent would take until now -- but it was a coincidence that made the real work even easier than the practice and testing she had done with Kaleb and America. She quickly got lost in the process of it. She was always at her best when she was busy with something, knowing what she was doing, working towards a goal, and had never had such an experience with magic until now.

Everything else that was occupying her mind previously was now far, far, away, lost in the currents of the task at hand. Take the hair, weave it together, make it seamless and silver; repeat, repeat, repeat. She just about missed the questions entirely.

Differentiation? Well, she liked being a warg. The spirit-bond? That mattered more to Eve than it did to her. Her breath caught momentarily while she did her part to steady the silvered thread. The Court space? It needed improvement, but that's what they were all here for.

The Noble geas? Yes, yes, yes. Leila wanted to see America's suggestion come to fruition: a way to address the underlying problem instead of enabling more of the same kind of violence. Term limits? Of course. Among the other problems it could lead to, it was obvious to her that immortality was bad for people, and she didn't want to see Jeremiah or Algernon or Lady or anyone else suffer.

Intention, consent, and responsibility -- for those who differentiate? No brainer. Yes.

Breathe.

Two more yeses, and suddenly the end of the thread slipped past her bare fingers. And the sensation of being more faded along with it. And the ritual room, the people in it, returned to her awareness. Part of her was a little sad to be finished. But she returned to herself with a smile for America, and Kaleb, and Odal.

This time she could believe their work actually was good.  

[Smerdle]

As their power rose and combined once more, the first thing Chester tried to do was pull away. This didn't feel cooperative or communal or supportive to him, it felt like someone was trying to get him to join a cult. He searched for Preacher in the sea of magic, turning to make sure she still stood beside him when he couldn't separate her from the others. Finally, he gave in, the entirety of his struggle outwardly defined by nothing more than clenched fists and a single sharp turn of his head. Inside, he felt a touch more frayed than he would have liked.

When Odal asked if the magical masses supported differentiation, Chester almost laughed. He hadn't expected anyone to voluntarily give that up, and from the response it received, it was in no danger of being repealed. He affirmed it as well, certainly not opposed even if he didn't want any of it for himself. Everything else got his support to varying degrees, the revival of the spirit-bond receiving the weakest backing. It seemed like a bad idea to return the power that sundered the world to one side, or maybe that was just him.

Left on his own to reflect, Chester directed his thoughts toward the casting, unsure as to the difference his voice alone might make.

Whatever we do here today, let it not stand in the way of breaking the sigil from my world before the end. Nothing is more important than living as we were intended. All of us, through a single, endless cycle. I want to be old someday. Me. Not some strange man wearing a copy of my face. Chester swallowed, folding his hands and looking down at the floor.  

[cibarium]

It was perhaps inappropriately self-indulgent given the serious work being done, but Eve couldn't help but watch her wife admiringly as she wove the magic threads alongside Kaleb and America. Leila didn't care much for magic, and with that knowledge Eve wouldn't have expected the process to be so graceful. It almost looked like a performance instead of a spell. She was enraptured and proud to watch it. Good thing Odal was there to direct the intent of the new Charter casting... otherwise she might have forgotten there was a contract to decide the terms of.

Eve still indulged in a happy sigh before the questions began. She was here hoping she could be a moonwalker again, and perhaps become something more someday, so the first two questions were easy.

The ones about Nobles were answered with a bit more reluctance on her part. Part of her still didn't want to see any version of the practice continue. Eliminating the geas, adding term limits, and bringing consent and communication to the tithing would help things, but it would take time to determine just how much. She decided to trust her friends and peers for the time being. Magic like this, constructed from a group effort, needed trust to work, and she didn't want to undermine that.

What about the fetches, though? Leila had mentioned them being a topic of conversation at the Conference, but there hadn't been any questions specific to their future at all. Especially after working with Felt and meeting Odal, Eve wanted to see them have more autonomy and influence in their own world. Protection in exchange for loyalty and service probably hadn't been a good deal for them in previous cycles. She hoped -- no, trusted -- that they would be getting what they wanted out of this as well.

It had been a spectacular work of magic. Inspiring, even.

The spirit of it was something they could all take pride in. The execution of it absolutely had to lead to a better outcome. Not a disaster disguised as an improvement, like with the new sigil and all the lives that had been irreparably disrupted from it. Eve had long since grown tired of all the well-intentioned mistakes.  

[saedusk]

If he were completely honest, part of Elliot felt out of place preparing to answer Odal's questioning. Not everyone here had differentiated, sure, but he was so new to magic, so out of the loop. Everything he'd learned he'd learned nearly overnight. Did he have a right to give his input on shaping things he didn't fully understand? It didn't make sense to stop now, not after everything they'd done, not after how far he'd come, but he had to continue fighting back the doubt.

Yeah, stopping now wasn't an option, not really. He was already here, already offering his magic to their casting, and to back out now just didn't feel right.

"Yes," he answered short and sweet to most of the questions, at least until the geas was mentioned. "That... is something I believe should not be fully eliminated. In its current form, sure, but we've all seen what people can do when they're left to run out of control. A trial, then, since so many people seem inclined."

Following that, more yeses and his own promises to help those who needed it. If he could, of course, he certainly wasn't the most magically inclined or useful of the bunch. Still, he'd been able to fulfill his promise to Horace if nothing else. Working together with him and Oliver had gone surprisingly well.

"I don't believe I have anything else to say," was what he ended with. All he wanted from this was protections for those he cared for. Consent and protection. As long as there was something, he'd be content with the outcome of their ritual.  

[AMItotic]

Lily sank into the magic and it's bonds like she was tucking herself into bed. It eased the aches from the battle before, the soft sting of where she'd pricked her finger or the tenderness from the blistering that had not quite healed yet. In this circle, she was more than just her physical body, she was part of a collective, like the pack but somehow more complete. It was moonwalkers and wargs and nobles and those with the potential to become any of them, working towards a single goal. With a soft exhale she sloughed off the pains of the individual and let herself be one with the casting. It was real ******** zen, she would remember later.

She closed her eyes as Odal began to speak, responding as prompted:

"Shall there still be differentiation?"

"Yeah."

"Shall the spirit-bond be reborn?"

"Yeah, for the people who want it." She wasn't sure if she would ever qualify for such a dangerous role, but there were others with whom she would trust the responsibility.

"Shall the Court remain a space within these walls?"

"As long as it's not a murder clubhouse, then yeah." No repeats of the Faerie Ball.

"Shall the noble geas be destroyed?"

"Change it to something less harmful."

"Shall we limit the time for which nobility serves?"

"Yeah."

"Shall we elect new nobles with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?"

"Yeah."

"Shall the moonwalkers be selected with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?"

She nodded her head with this answer. "Definitely." No repeats of Blackfriar's.

"Shall the wargs be selected with intention, with consent, and with the desire to take responsibility for both worlds in which they walk?"

"Yeah."

"And shall those whose explorations of magic have brought them to a new state of being be protected and safeguarded by those who take upon themselves these responsibilities?"

She thought of those she'd failed to protect, and her voice became softer. "Yes."


"Will you swear to create a pathway for those who wish to return to the life of a nonmagical human?"

She thought of the starchild, who had felt so lost. "Absolutely."

Lily opened her eyes to watch as Odal completed the working with Leila, America and Kaleb. Please just let this work, Lily pleaded wordlessly. The people of Ashdown were not perfect, plenty of them were assholes, but they at least deserved a better chance. Refamiliarizing herself with the sensations of being herself, of having fingers and toes, she breathed in and felt the thrum of the magic and breathed out as it dissipated, off to work its changes on the world. Lily hoped, with everyone else, that it would be good.