In a cold room at the top of a 38-story hotel, I gaze into a mirror—one eye of green and another of silver stare back.

It’s been eight days since Constance entered hibernation, so at least seven days remain until she awakens and the Tower appears. Yet the city has already significantly changed. It was five days ago now that a portion of the city’s sewers changed after dense white steam began flowing through its tunnels. Since then, all kinds of oversized bug creatures have been appearing. There have even been horror stories of those creatures crawling up through toilets. I heard one story of a woman that poured cement down her toilet to hold back the flow of bugs that were making their way up.

Uncapping a tube of lipstick, I trace my lips while being mindful to keep it within the liner I placed a moment earlier.

I lean back, checking that the dark red matte lipstick looks as I hope it does. In the mirror, a young woman who has a fair complexion, silver hair, and a face half-stitched in cloth examines herself with a flat, indifferent expression. I bend forward and continue applying the lipstick.

That face is the face of Galtry.

Galtry is not simply the leader of a crime syndicate, and it’s not just the eye, hair, and cloth that people think of when they hear her name. Galtry, in and of herself, is an icon. She rules in a vicious part of society that young, strong-willed women rarely involve themselves with, and some people absolutely love her for it.

Except being so public means that people have a lot of preconceptions about Galtry.

I once stumbled upon an article that tried to sum up Galtry's personality. The article went something like: “Contrary to her delicate veneer, Galtry is cold. She is strongly apathetic yet also aggressive. People also believe Galtry is fair, reasonable, and maintains a graceful poise no matter what. Above all else, people know she can be ruthless.”

The public has romanticized Galtry’s person, and for now, I must live up to what has been made of her. If I do so, then it wouldn’t even matter if the Hex Church came out and told the truth. If Galtry is acting precisely as Galtry has always been said to act, then it would just make the Hex Church look like liars.

I recap the lipstick.

Checking to make sure my appearance is appropriate, I notice a stain of blood on my sleeve. I turn my head to the right, pull the sleeve back, and inspect the cloth beneath. There I find a piece of cloth around my collarbone is bleeding from where a stitch is missing. This stitch is one that probably came loose while I was buying Constance time during her engagement with that wicked rat.

I click my tongue and shake my head. “Need to keep yourself together, Galtry,” I whisper to myself.

As I remove my tome from a burgundy handbag, a few sheets with drawings on them are pulled with it. These are from the children in the Hex Church’s school. The children there are the ones who gave me the courage to do what I am doing. They are who I will protect from this cruel world to come—them and whomever else deserves a life free of brutality. Though, a certain woman of haze has driven my courage and resolve even further recently.

I pick up the papers, glancing at each one as I do so. ‘Not too much longer now. The day that I’ll be able to retrieve them is quickly approaching.’

I return the drawings to my bag and then set the tome upright, so it’s standing on its spine. Reaching behind the tome’s pages, I use my fingernail to tug at a small protrusion, and once I get a firm grip, I pull. What slips out is a bright silver sewing needle. I pull it higher, and a silky silver string is drawn from the tome’s spine.

Not many outside the Hex Church recognize this, but the stitches that run along the outside of our cloth are actually the bindings of our own tomes. This allows us the freedom to cast some hexes without the tome, at least until we run out of stitches. The range on those is usually pretty limited, though, but I have plenty of stitching, and it grows back anyway. Still, it’s faster to fix it yourself, if you’re confident enough in your skills, that is.

I place a hand towel beneath my collar, run the needle through the cloth, and then tilt it upward to pull it out again. A few drops of blood leak with each stitch, but they stop only a few seconds later.

A screen appears.

Achieved Novice Sprightly Ka Sewing [Grade 9]

I nod while managing the needle’s movements. ‘I see it, system.’ The system’s screen closes.

Several stitches later, I pull down my sleeve, return the needle to the tome’s spine, and place it back in my handbag.

I glance out the wide hotel windows.

In the distance, the Statue of Liberty stands with her iconic torch held above her head. This hotel room is a special one that includes a telescope for tourists to gaze at the statue. I’m in this particular hotel for this reason because there is something at the foot of the Statue of Liberty.

At the foot of the statue are tents, boats, a helicopter, and people, all of which are under the umbrella of the Consortium. I thought the Consortium was joking when they said Liberty Island was one of the locations where they had discovered a Kiln’s roots. But after thinking about it more, big national monuments have been closed with all that has been happening. It makes sense that a Kiln would settle on an island that was basically deserted.

My eyes drift to the television where a virtual conference call is taking place. Tapping the unmute button on the television remote, I start using a tissue to sharpen the lipstick’s edges while listening in on the call.

Some paper shuffles around, and the rundown voice of a woman starts to speak. “Wherefrom, wherefore, whereupon, or FFU is an acronym that has become popular among some of the park’s adolescents. The name seems to be a play on the way ‘Fairy’ writes, but it’s basically just a compatibility game for boys and girls. However, it has begun spreading amongst older groups to ask where they are from, why they are here, and when they chose to come to Central Park. This is why I want to make the suggestion that we hand out FFU questionnaires to learn more about the type of people in the park.”

‘That could be useful. We could use it to help keep people’s spirits up. Oh, and those tokens we are handing out. We still have a few hundred of those to pass out.’

The people in the conference call right now are from a consultant firm I hired to take care of some minor things for me. It really is fortunate that most people are still trying to continue life as usual. Thanks to that, I can keep using these types of services for a while longer. These types of businesses are great at establishing basic facilities for large-scale events. This particular firm handles disaster relief and is a Consortium subsidiary. Thanks to our new connection with the Consortium, I was able to get them to take care of our needs immediately.

They will be handling things like shower facilities, portable toilet rentals, warming tents, equipment rentals, and community building projects. Of course, we’ll never be able to get enough of any of that. It’s simply impossible. There are too many people and not enough resources, time, or leeway to operate.

Tossing the tissue into the trash, I walk to a table near the window and take a seat in front of my laptop. To either side of the computer, there is a personal and business phone. The personal phone only has two numbers: my butler Caldwell, and my maid, Victoria Toussaint, whom I haven’t seen since I failed my driving test around four years ago.

Victoria was a French woman who started as just someone to make sure I didn’t starve to death in my bed of feathers and silk because I was too young to understand what ordering out was. Over time both she and Caldwell turned into more than that. Victoria is the one that taught me to do my makeup, which is also why I have a fondness for red lipstick. Many French women love red lipsticks, and she was no exception.

A senior consultant in the conference call knocks against something and then says, “Ah, I almost forgot I have an update. We were able to procure over half of the industrial fencing requested by the client. Meaning, we have around a mile of fencing at this moment. That’ll be delivered later this afternoon.”

I nod and look out over the water. The fencing the senior consultant mentioned is for Central Park’s reservoir. In the future, I’ll erect it around the reservoir as a last line of protection. As far as I am concerned, that fence is worth its weight in gold if only because the water is worth its weight in diamonds.

My personal phone vibrates. Its screen displays the name “Caldwell Flax.”

Muting the television, my gaze softens. ‘Constance hasn’t ever spoken to him, and I’m sad to say, she never will.’

I take the phone in hand and answer. “Caldwell.”

“Miss! Your father is coming home tomorrow morning, and I can’t keep this up anymore! I’ve hardly seen you at all, and I don’t even understand what you’re doing!”

My lips purse as I ask, “Caldwell, who do you work for?”

“I work for you, of course, which is why I’m worried about your safety!”

“And why are you worried about my safety?”

“Oh, Miss, I’ve watched you for years. Victoria and I both know what your true nature is, but no one else does, so who knows what can happen if you run into the wrong person.”

A frown spreads across my face. “Is that so?”

“Of course, and that’s also why I agreed to help you with your bodyguards.”

“Ah, yes. You can go ahead and let the bodyguards out of that room later tonight. They’ve been locked in there long enough. Thanks for using the dumbwaiter to feed them.”

He gasps. “Did… Did you just thank me?”

“I guess,” I respond, my frown fading away, replaced by a smirk.

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much, Miss.” Things turn quiet for a moment before he asks, “And… and did you find the person you were looking for? The one you said you had to talk to.”

“I did. Things went well, we seem to have a lot of things in common, and I like them a lot.”

“That’s so good to hear, Miss. I’m so glad.”

Leaning back in my chair, I sigh. “…Caldwell.”

“Yes, Miss? Do I need to pick you up?”

“No, no, but how are your grandchildren doing? It’s been a while since you went back to the UK, hasn’t it?”

“Well… it was the Christmas before last, I think. They’re doing well as far as I’m aware, however.” His tone becomes cheerful as he says, “Little Julia started primary school a few months ago now, and Aidan is still working to get his head around his new secondary classes.”

I nod. “That’s good to hear; I hope they continue doing well.” I start to knead my fingers, taking another deep breath. “Caldwell… what I’m about to say to you, I need you to listen very closely.”

“Of course, Miss. Is something wrong?”

I ignore his question. “I just want to say I appreciate everything you’ve tried to do. I know it must have been a lot for you to take in when you first arrived in the United States eight years ago.”

“It certainly was a bit odd at first.” His tone is uncertain. “They told me I would be serving a seventy-year-old woman who talked using a voice box. How could I have guessed that it was actually an eleven-year-old girl?”

I stifle a laugh. “I remember, Caldwell. Victoria pulled a shotgun on you because no one had ever knocked on our door before.”

“I… I remember that too. It was my “welcome to America” moment, and from a French woman too.” He chuckles stiffly and then clears his throat. “Fortunately, you stopped her. If I remember, you hired me because you wanted someone to watch television with.”

“Yeah, something like that…” I pause, gathering my thoughts, and then say, “But what I’m trying to get at, Caldwell, is that I appreciate everything you’ve tried to do, but you aren’t my father and I’m not your daughter. That’s how you and Victoria treated me when I was younger, and I appreciate it all tremendously, but the truth is I’m not; I’m just your employer.”

Glancing at the television screen, I notice the image has changed. This is something I installed an application to do when major news is breaking. Instead of the conference, there’s now the image of an empty podium with American flags to its sides and the U.S. Presidential Seal hung prominently above it.

Caldwell sounds genuinely hurt as he stutters, “I-I understand—”

I bite my lip and then interrupt him. “Let me finish.”

“Yes, of course,” he whispers.

“You’re a good person, Caldwell, and you’ve seen a side of me that very few people ever have or ever will.”

“That’s true, Miss…”

I take a breath and say, “That’s why you have two choices. The first is you can go into the kitchen, take the plane ticket and check I left for you, and go back to the UK to stay near your grandchildren.”

“Mi—”

“Or you can stay here, watch the city crumble, have little hope of ever going back to the UK, and finally, learn to work for Galtry, not the girl who hired you.”

He stays quiet on the other end of the line.

“You’ll need to make a decision by the end of the day, or the world might make it for you.” On the television, a man everyone knows well walks up to the podium. This man is President of the United States of America, Samuel K. McCracken. “I have—”

“I’ve already been thinking about it.” He pauses, and then says, “I’m going to return home, Miss. Back to Chester.”

Wondering if I’ve just been punched in the stomach, I bite my lip and force out some words. “Then goodbye, Caldwell, you’re no longer under my employ. Please, take good care of yourself.”

“Yes… Goodbye. Please, be safe.”

“Yeah.” I hang up and drop the phone into a glass of water. It bubbles and sinks to the bottom of the glass. For a moment, I sit in silence, staring at the phone screen that is still lit in the glass. It vibrates, sending ripples through the water.

Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths, rein in my emotions, and then open my eyes to watch the screen fade to black. I glance at the second phone which I use for business and then back at my personal phone as the last bubbles leave its casing. ‘Constance, what do you think will be left of us in the end?’

My gaze drifts to the television screen. President McCracken is shuffling through papers and giving some opening words.

McCracken is young for a president, I think forty-seven or something. His suit is black, and his dark brown hair is a bit out of form and exhibiting signs of graying. This is counter to the platform he ran on of being a ‘young and hip’ president that will decriminalize all drug use. As far as presidents go, he’s been fine. He’s a decent person, an okay legislator, a good speechmaker, and an average president. Unlike many ‘end of the world’ presidents in movies, he’s just a guy that many people hate because the economy is in shambles, and he has to make lots of hard decisions.

Taking one more breath, I hit the unmute button on the remote, lean back, and cross my arms.

President McCracken clears his voice, looks at the camera with a look of seriousness, and begins to give a speech. “It’s been two months now since the shocking and tragic incident in Anchorage. Yet what many weren’t aware of is that at the same time this was happening, people all over the globe were finding themselves suddenly transported somewhere else. Many people have described it as the day their eyes were opened and simultaneously the worst day of their life.

“Why?” He straightens his back and narrows his eyes. “Because they believe it was the day humankind lost their place in the natural world and that the apocalypse is just around the corner. It was on that historic and terrible day that what experts believe is a natural and primordial force of nature known as the ‘Cosmic System’ once more made itself known to these people.”

The room remains quiet. ‘Hmm, this isn’t a press conference. It’s just a speech in front of a camera. I wonder where he is, right now?’

Elevating his voice, he points at the camera. “I, as the president of this great country, want to reassure the American people that this is not an apocalypse, nor is it the end of civilization, nor is it some kind of extraterrestrial invasion, and finally, that this is not the end of the American way of life!” His hand sweeps across the air as he states, “This is a new chapter; a new opportunity! As we always have, since time immemorial, humanity will adapt, overcome, and flourish.

“But! We still need to be prepared for anything.” Resting his hand on the podium, he continues, “For three weeks now, both Congress and the Senate have been in and out of closed-door sessions. It was in those sessions that some difficult decisions were made. A new Selective Service Act has been passed.”

He glances at a paper on the podium and then goes on to say, “Beginning three days from now, all men and women who have been incorporated into the Cosmic System are to report to their local recruiting offices by the end of this year. These people should prepare themselves to serve their country, defend their local citizens, and help lead the United States of America into this new chapter of its existence.

“I have three other major announcements, and then I need to return to meeting with military officials. More information on everything can be found online on the Homeland Security and White House websites.”

He once more clears his throat. “I am implementing a mandatory evacuation order for New York City and the surrounding cities effective immediately. Finally, Pennsylvania and all states northeast of it are to be placed under martial law until further notice.”

President McCracken goes on to discuss his third announcement, but it is in regards to Anchorage. After that, it’s all cliché patriot-speak and a bunch of reassurance that everything will be fine.

‘So it seems the president is a believer now. I guess the recent toilet bug incidents have woken up lots of people.’

A day ago, I published another one of Constance’s videos. This video warned of the rise of the other Kiln in New York City and the surrounding area. In the same video, she also firmly urged those that weren’t prepared for anything to leave the city.

The Consortium and the Feds knew the city was in a bad state, but I’m not sure they realized just how soon it would be. No one would have believed Constance before either, but every single thing she’s said has come to pass. Though, she made a show of doing some of them.

Which has led agents from the Department of Homeland Security and even some National Guard officers to begin searching and seeking information about her. They won’t find her, and the sheer number of people in Central Park makes it challenging to search, but we really need these other Kiln to hurry it up.

Someone knocks on the hotel room door. I sit up and wait for the designated password. After playing Galtry for so many years, I’ve had it drilled into my head that I shouldn’t approach a door when I’m alone without a password being given. Firing a high-powered shot through a closed door is a common tactic.

The person on the other side breathes heavily. “The… the Fairy has no wings,” Summer’s voice says in between huffing for oxygen.

I wait a moment until I hear five consecutive knocks. This is a second part of the password and each knock means something different: one knock means ‘unexpected, unarmed guest,’ two means ‘they have a blunt weapon,’ three ‘they have a gun,’ four ‘escape, it’s hopeless,’ and five ‘all clear.’

Standing, I walk to the door and open it. There stands the escort, Summer, alone with bandages dotted here and there on her face and arms. Her face is red, and her breathing heavy. This would be because people are being discouraged from using elevators due to rolling blackouts plaguing the city. Meaning she just finished walking up the stairs to the 38th floor of this hotel.

I gesture for her to follow and turn. “Come,” I say curtly. “There’s water bottles on the nightstand over there.”

She closes the door, makes sure it’s locked tight, and then hurries toward the water bottles. I take a seat and motion for her to sit on the bed nearby. Summer has been following up on some leads in the organization. She believes we are weeding out potential traitors, but in reality, we’re performing a takeover.

“Did you manage to find the lieutenant or the street captain?” I cross my legs. “I need one of them for a little demonstration I want to put on.”

She shakes her head and sits on the bed with the water bottle held tight. “I think I’m close to the street captain, Osvaldo, but there’s nothing on the lieutenant.”

I take a deep breath and glare at her.

Her eyes look away. “Did… did you hear the news? They’re going to begin drafting the awakened.”

Uncrossing my legs, I return to scrolling through local news stories. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. It’ll be good for us in the end.”

“Good for us?”

“Yes.”

I type in the URL for the WGN news site. The top headline reads, ‘Two Orphaned After Squirrel-sized Fleas Attack Single Father.’ Opening up my email on the laptop, I paste the article into a message, address it to the Helping Hands, and add, “Find and add the children’s names to the file.”

The bed creaks as Summer shifts her weight. “…May I ask how the draft helps us, Miss Galtry?”

“How many people are in the park right now, Summer?” I reply.

“I’m not sure.” She thinks for a moment and then asks, “Twenty thousand, maybe?”

“A hundred.” I press the send button on my laptop. When the email shows it was sent successfully, I turn to stare at Summer. “There are a hundred thousand people spread around Bethesda Terrace right now. Almost all out-of-towners too. So tell me, Summer, what’s going to happen when things get bad, and there are very few safe areas?”

“…Everyone who can’t escape will bum-rush those places. Especially the park since Fairy and her message are well-known by now.”

“Exactly. This draft will dissuade more passive people from wanting to awaken. Besides, they’ll go after the awakened outside the city first.” I return to reading the article on my laptop with a long-drawn sigh. “And don’t even get me started on the evacuation order; that makes me feel like I won the lottery.”

My business phone rings, displaying the words “Consortium - LF”.

‘That’s Lincoln. I’ve been waiting on him.’

“I’m taking this,” I say, turning in my chair to look toward the Statue of Liberty.

Answering the phone, I ask, “Any updates on Locality Liberty’s Star?”

“No.” He lets out a long breath, suggesting he lit a cigarette before making this phone call. “Locality Gansevoort’s Brisket seems closer to popping in my opinion. Either way, the Consortium is pulling out of New York.”

“They’re leaving before even seeing the climax?”

“Pierce and I have been told to stay and monitor the situation from Locality Central Tortoise, but the other localities are being recalled to Chicago.” He laughs and then sighs.

‘Stuck here with the rest of us then.’

“So first the Feds issue an evacuation order and now the Consortium is just plain leaving.” I also sigh and then look toward the glass of water. The water ripples, but the phone screen remains black. Raising an eyebrow, I add, “Like rats from a sinking ship.”

“Yeah, well, the Consortium’s contract is up, and no one wants to stay here anymore anyway. Hell, since our little photo op, it’s not even safe to use the toilets in this city any—” There’s an abrupt pause, and then I hear Pierce’s voice yell, “Lincoln, get to the helicopter!”

My cell phone beeps as it loses connection. I tilt my head and set the cell phone down.

Behind me, I hear Summer murmur, “What is that?”

My gaze drifts to the water off the coast of Liberty Island. The water that surrounds the southern portion is turning a light pink. I grab the telescope, pull it close, and place my eye over the eyepiece. As I adjust the focusing knob, the image sharpens and clears.

I can see around three groups of Consortium employees. Two groups of ten rush toward boats docked on piers at the island’s southeast and northeast. Then a third group of six runs toward a helicopter parked on a red plaza to the island’s northwest end.

‘The group of six is Lincoln and Pierce’s group.’

The pink water bubbles as dark shadows begin to move beneath its water. Just as the people arrive at the docks to board their boats, they take on water and start to sink. One woman jumps into a boat and manages to crank it somehow, but it’s too late. The vessel has taken on far too much water. Realizing this, the woman tries to jump back onto the dock, but she can’t get there in time. She and the boat sink into the water’s depths.

‘God, that poor woman!’

Not wanting to watch the fates of the poor woman’s coworkers, I return my attention to the two Solicitors.

There I see the third group with Lincoln and Piece jump in the helicopter, and the blades start to gradually revolve. As they rise into the air, the foundation beneath the red brick plaza is made crooked as branch-like protrusions rise. A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes. ‘At least Lincoln and his numbskull partner are going to be fine. Thank goodness, they aren’t actually that bad for Consortium lackeys.’

“Miss Galtry, do you know what’s happening?” Summer asks.

“That depends on who you ask. President McCracken would say you’re witnessing a new chapter in American history.” I remove my eye from the telescope. “As for the Fairy, I’m sure she’d call this the end of an era.”

I look into the telescope once more and watch as one of the pink protrusions hooks the helicopter’s landing gear. Frowning, I lean away from the telescope’s eyepiece.

Summer stands, moving closer to the window, and watches as the water and earth surrounding the Statue of Liberty become distorted.

Debris rises into the air, clouding the island and swallowing up the helicopter. I stand and begin packing my things. ‘Lincoln, Pierce, I better see you two back in the park!’

“What… what would you call this?” Summer murmurs.

“The Fairy and I think a lot alike, so I’ll put my own little spin on it.” The hotel begins to shake as I close my laptop, slip it under my arm, and wrap my burgundy handbag around my shoulder. My heels tap against the floor as I step toward the door and answer Summer’s question. “I think I’d call this the end of a prelude.”