Chapter 88

When Katarina returned to her apartments, she was briefly frozen with shock. Just down the hall from her, Olivia’s apartments were blocked by six guards in lacquered maroon armor. More, the moment she was spotted, hands went to sword hilts.

After several seconds of mutually sizing each other up, Katarina pointed at herself and then at her door. The guards nodded, and sword hilts were released, but their hands hovered over the hilts, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. Katarina stepped into her own apartments and found Sawyer waiting for her.

Katarina, already on edge, reached for her knife. Nobody should have been allowed in her rooms, least of all Alayne’s personal maid. Katarina extended her anti-magic field to disable the listening device.

"Lady Alayne sends her regards." Sawyer reported, seemingly ignorant of Katarina’s readiness to fight. Katarina nodded slowly.

"She wishes to know when you will be retrieving the package she picked up for you." the maid added.

Katarina felt a smile creeping across her face and she leaned in, releasing the handle of her knife and interposing herself into the maid’s space.

"As soon as you consent to marry me." Katarina murmured, and Sawyer laughed and pushed Katarina away.

"The way I hear it, you have your hands full with the Lady Cardinal, Mistress Katarina." She remarked playfully. Katarina nodded at that, and stepped back. "It’s true, I guess. She’s certainly a handful."

Sawyer nodded. "I’m sorry, but you’re much to frivolous... and female... for my tastes." She replied apologetically, still smiling.

Katarina nodded. "No time like the present." Katarina replied, returning to the matter at hand. "Let me get my coat and summon a coach and we’ll go together."

Sawyer nodded at that, and they departed to the Caine estates.

Katarina stepped into the parlor of Alayne’s manor, where she was greeted by Sawyer, who swept her a graceful curtsey. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but one of her hands remained beneath her apron.

In retrospect, it’d been that way since Alayne had drugged her. Sawyer was perpetually on guard against the Witch Hunter, as if she might suddenly attack.

"Oh my dear Katarina." Alayne announced, stepping into the parlor, "It’s been so long! Have you been eating well? Getting enough sleep?" She prodded, and Katarina laughed.

"I’m eating well. Probably not sleeping as much as I should be. " She replied with a wry twist to her smile.

"You mentioned leaving soon?" Katarina offered, and Alayne nodded.

"Oh yes. Most certainly." The older woman gave her a calculating look. "The paradigm is shifting, and I think I’ll be taking a comfortable, relaxing trip." She gestured, and Katarina followed her deeper into the house.

"You know, I’ve killed people simply for doing their jobs?" Alayne asked causticaly.

"I’m sorry?" Katarina offered, baffled.

"Normal, everyday people, doing normal, everyday jobs, doing what they should, just to keep secrets. That’s the onus of an Inquisitor, Katarina: sometimes a few need to be sacrificed so that the rest can go about their lives, blithely and blissfully unaware of things that would tear them apart."

Her voice was frustrated, bitter, and filled with pain. "Ten years ago, I killed a Confessor, because she saw something in you." She began, but Katarina immediately grabbed Alayne’s arm and pulled her back. "You what? Why?"

"We saw you pray to the Goddess to heal your Master, and we saw Her answer." Alayne replied. "Ten thousand priestesses couldn’t do what you did, and so I had to make a choice: Allow the Confessor to report that she’d witnessed heresy, or take her life." She paused. "You broke the rules: You didn’t follow the Seven Prayers to the Goddess." She shook her head. "A minor infraction, but it would have meant invalidating what you did. What the Goddess did. For the first time in..." she shook her head, "Who knows how long? The Goddess answered a prayer. So I had to." She finished.

"I didn’t- I mean," Katarina began, confusion warring with shock.

"When we had our little Inspection here in my house, I had to kill the priestesses and clerics to keep your secret." Alayne’s mouth twisted at that, and she glared at Katarina with bitterness. "Your body and soul have been extensively modified by the Goddess, Katarina. To protect that secret, to keep them from spreading the word that a Living Saint had emerged for the first time in nearly eight hundred years, I killed them, Katarina. I killed them for you."

Katarina was dumbstruck.

"Why?" She asked. It was barely a whisper.

Alayne snorted bitterly. "Why else? To protect a secret." She reached out and touched the tip of Katarina’s nose with a fingertip. "I’m telling you this, because when I saw what was in those crates..." She hissed, "I wanted to tear your head off, Apostle of the Goddess or no." She finished.

Katarina let out a sigh, but Alayne shook her head.

"You’ve got your reasons, and I can guess why you’re hiding them." Alayne stated flatly, "and I know I can trust you." she added, "But I want you to know, just for a moment, how much I hate you right now."

it was explicitly obvious that Alayne was still blindingly furious with her. There was no going around it. "You know this from your little Interrogation already, probably, but it was my intention to leave the relics of the saints and the Emerald Tablets in my apartments to be discovered after I left." She replied. "If they were found before, they’d never let me leave."

"No shit." Alayne replied flatly. "I’ve got more than half a mind to blow your little fantasy away anyway." She warned.

"I’ve gotten some freedom, so I intend to spend that time wisely." Katarina replied, ignoring the threat. "Can’t very well do much at all when I’ve got a Lady Cardinal over my shoulder."

Alayne nodded and gestured for her to follow.

"I’m fairly certain you were taught the value of sacrifice, Katarina." Alayne murmured. Katarina nodded. "Indeed. There are times when there is no other recourse but to sacrifice yourself for a greater cause."

Alayne glared at her pointedly as they went down the stairs.

"Now is not the time for sacrifice, Alayne." Katarina replied calmly.

"No?" Alayne argued, and Katarina shook her head. "No." She repeated calmly.

Alayne, Katarina and two of Alayne’s servants helped load two crates into the coach, at which point Katarina was able to return to her rooms, crates in tow.

Olivia was beside herself with numbers and charts and thick blocks of dry, flavorless text that spoke facts and figures and incidents, but had no poetical or romantic flow. It was like reading a dictionary. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Whoever they were, the Cultus Sancte left no detail unearthed. Additionally, they also refused contemporary turns of phrase, or any form of easy communication. Everything became overwhelmed in long, dry explanations. Olivia groaned, and checked the time on the water clock on the mantle. Katarina should have finished her drake lesson for the day.

She waged a war with herself, and lost. She wanted to go to Katarina’s quarters and have a dinner and a bath with the woman, but she just couldn’t.

She looked at the stacks of reports and groaned. Each one was at least forty pages. She sighed, and opened the next one, and began to read.

In her opinion, Katarina decided, taking ‘lessons’ from the Lady Cardinals was a horrible idea. She eyed Celeste from across the Lady Cardinal’s sitting room.

"Once again, explain it to me." The auburn-haired woman demanded angrily. "Omit nothing."

"I’ve told you everything already." Katarina repeated. The Lady Celeste’s apartments were done in pastels and ivory, with few furnishings. Under every window, fragrant plants grew. Her rooms were the exact opposite of her character: Katarina liked the woman’s choice in decorations and colors, but couldn’t say the same for the Lady Cardinal.

She closed her eyes and focused her mind on the armlet that cuffed her left arm. When she wore it, a great lassitude, a overwhelming feeling of peace and calm strength would fill her, and she was overwhelmed with the feeling that everything would turn out for the best, just as long as she was patient, calm, and didn’t allow her emotions to run rampant.

She opened her eyes. "Is there something specific you want to know?" She asked, and Celeste grimaced.

"How did you push back the blightstorm?" Celeste asked. Katarina snorted. "I told you, it was not me. It was the work of the Im Adad. She pushed it back."

Celeste grit her teeth and rolled her eyes. "Fine. How did you find the mages that caused it?"

Katarina rolled her eyes. "I told you that, too. It was a magical storm that left an explicit path. I followed the magic back to the castle they were at."

"How?" Celeste demanded.

"Sense magic and auravision." Katarina replied in a monotone. "Every Witch Hunter that survives training leaves Darnell with those abilities." She replied. "Plus, the storm left an obvious path of corruption that could be followed with the naked eye." She eyed the Lady Cardinal. "Do you have any questions I haven’t yet already answered?" She asked gently.

"Yes." Celeste stated decisively. "I want to know about your relationship with the Cardinal Priestess Frederika Edelweiss, since I saw her leave your apartments the other day." She stated hungrily, leaning towards the Witch Hunter. "Also, I want to know what you brought to the Alstroemeria from Lady Caine’s estates."

Katarina jolted at both requests, but she was speaking her answers before the Lady Cardinal finished. An idea, half-formed, sprang into her mind just then.

"No law, no proclamation, no edict, and nothing in the Books of the Golden Lady obligates me to tell you anything of the sort." she replied calmly, and played her hunch. "You could turn me over to the Inquisition like you tried last time I suppose, but I wonder how well that will work." She mused, and smiled when Celeste jolted.

"Seems I was right." She declared, a smile spreading across her face. "To answer your questions, though, I’ve been friends with Frederika since we attended the Preux Academia together. That’s in my file." She added confidentially. "And I retrieved some books from Alayne I had asked her to hold onto for me."

"Get out." Celeste growled. "I’ve had it up to here with your insouciant attitudes. Go. Get out. Your ‘lesson’ is over."

Katarina’s flying lessons for the day weren’t lessons on flying at all, they covered keeping the drake healthy, happy, and how to spot signs of sickness and disease.

When she returned to her apartments, she found a letter tucked in the doorframe. The letter was a simple missive; Katarina would be taking a lesson with the Grand Cardinal the day after tomorrow.

The Grand Cardinal’s apartments were luxurious to the point of lavish opulence. Thick curtains heavy with gold brocade hung everywhere. Ponderous furniture, deeply carved with whorls and waves with heavy gilding, mounded with thick cushions of the softest velvet.

The massive fireplace was heavily decorated with ornate detail, bas relief carvings, and rare and priceless artifacts from all five continents that the Anglish Empire had a foothold on. The sitting room had its own chandelier.

"Have a seat by the fire, dear." The Grand Cardinal indicated as she was escorted in by the Grand Cardinal’s personal guards.

Katarina eyed the ostentatious wealth with a jaundiced eye, feeling her feet sink into the thick, pillowy carpet.

Katarina took her seat, and the Grand Cardinal waved over a maid with a glass of wine.

"So the former High Lady Inquisitor has left the city, and strangely, nobody knows why... or where." The Grand Cardinal mused as Katarina first sniffed and then sipped at the wine she was given.

The portly woman smiled craftily at Katarina. "The way this is supposed to play out is this: You either say nothing, or you deny knowledge of it happening. Then we go around and around." She raised a finger to indicate she wasn’t finished.

"Now you tell me that you’re a Witch Hunter, and that you don’t play at politics." She sipped her own wine and set it down.

"But we both know you’re no ordinary Witch Hunter." She finished. "So let’s not fuck around."

Katarina’s eyes widened at the vulgarity. "Alayne’s secrets are not mine to tell, Francesca." Katarina replied.

The Grand Cardinal chuckled. "Very good." She approved. "But you hesitated too long. You need to be quicker with these sorts of things."

Katarina didn’t reply, and so the Grand Cardinal took another sip of wine.

"One thing I can’t figure out is how you managed to remember my name. When I met you I was but a Cardinal Cleric and you were six." The ponderous woman remarked.

"I remember the day you came for Alsabet, and the day you came for me." Katarina replied.

"If I had been the Grand Cardinal then, I would have had enough authority to leave you with your mother until you were eleven." The Grand Cardinal mused. "Things would have been so different for you. Perhaps your mother wouldn’t be as cold to the Church as she is."

The Grand Cardinal let out a despondent sigh. "I like you, Katarina. You’re everything the Anglish used to be: Fiery, passionate, eager to serve the Golden Lady. You’re like one of the old crusading knights of legend."

"And the Church has transformed from the ‘Church of the Golden Lady’ to the ‘Church of the Anglish Empire’." Katarina finished for her. "There’s no love, only the endless parade of greedy sycophants and the great ponderous engine of bureaucracy." she condemned.

The Grand Cardinal glared at her. "You’re going too far, there." She warned. "Rein it in."

Katarina chuckled at that, and after the chuckle faded they each sat in their respective silences for a while.

"You know..." The Grand Cardinal murmured quietly.

"Mmm?"

"As ‘Francesca’, I like you. You do your job." She explained. "I don’t have to keep an eye on you. But as Grand Cardinal of an Empire that spans five continents, I have a much larger responsibility, and that means you don’t get what you want, despite how much I like you. You’re going to stay here."

"No I’m not." Katarina replied immediately.

The Grand Cardinal laughed. "You don’t have enough leverage to swing that." She replied.

"We’ll see." Katarina replied, and rose to her feet. "I’ve got important work to do, and it can only get done while Olivia is distracted with... whatever she’s doing."

The Grand Cardinal nodded in her seat.

Katarina surprised herself by entering one of the larger chapels that evening. She was filthy, she was tired and what she really wanted to do was take a luxurious bath and sleep so that she might recharge for the next day, but her feet carried her to the chapel.

Katarina was never one for public displays of ardent faith. There were plenty that she had witnessed who would make long and flowered prayers in public, or burst into song on a streetcorner, or any number of things that they did to publicly demonstrate their faith. No, hers was a quiet, solid faith that she kept as a solid, immovable core inside. Oftentimes she intentionally missed the weekly devotionals, preferring a quiet prayer to her holy symbol, or the reading of a few lines from one of her holy scriptures.

There was a young woman practicing on one of the massive organs, she glanced at Katarina and went back to her practice without interruption. Katarina stepped past the altar and to the statuary behind the pulpit; a wondrously worked rendition of a woman with a shield on her back, kneeling to cup a lily. The hair flowed down in long, wavy locks of rosy marble.

The Golden Lady was known by many titles, but never her true name. To utter her name was the highest of blasphemies, and so she was referred to as the Kneeling Woman, the Golden lady, the Defender, The Lily of Spring, or any number of other superlatives.

A deep, calming peace stole over Katarina and she turned to the woman who was practicing.

"Do you know ‘O Lady’?" The girl jerked her head up at Katarina. "O-of course, My Lady." She stammered. Katarina nodded and asked for her to play it.

As the woman played, Katarina sang. She hadn’t sang in a church choir since she was scarcely a child herself, training to become one of the churches’ weapons against its most powerful foes. It didn’t stop her from singing in the hills and mountains and valleys of the myriad forests she trekked through, but she did not sing in churches, ordinarily.

The girl sweated and did her best to play the hymn without missing a note.

As she sang, her mind went away. It was the only way to describe the feeling; it was like her mind drifted away while her body sang and swayed slightly from side to side.

As the song ended she came back to herself, and she blinked several times.

"That was beautifully sung, my Lady." the girl gushed. "I’m sorry i wasn’t able to play as well as I should have for you."

Katarina shook her head. "it was fine, girl. Keep practicing." She waved absentmindedly and left, already imagining the bath she would take.

Lady Cardinal Phoebe’s quarters were much like Katarinas’: reminiscent of wealth, but bearing no character of the owner. The paintings that hung on the walls were simple flowers, bowls of fruit. There was a modest shelf of books in the corner. The mantle of the fireplace held no decorations.

Katarina herself was glancing suspiciously here and there; she had been awakened by one of Phoebe’s servants in the early watches of the morning with the demand she attend her lesson immediately.

Phoebe herself gestured indifferently to a chair at the table in the sitting room. Next to the table was a cart from the kitchens that wafted the tantalizing aromatics of eggs and sausage, bacon and biscuits.

"Sit, eat." Phoebe gestured. "There is no lesson I could teach you that you’d be capable of learning, so we’ll just have breakfast and we’ll call the lesson done." she said by way of explanation, notes of indifferent arrogance in her voice.

They ate in silence for a while, each in their own respective minds, Katarina dwelling on her flying training, her mission to Norn, whether or not she would have to kill her sister, whether or not she was in love with Olivia, and the foreknowledge that something was going to happen soon.

"Why do you insist on wearing trousers in the Church?" Phoebe suddenly spoke up. "And why, by the Goddess, do you have to carry that" the disgust in her voice was palpable, "wherever you go?" She gestured at Katarina’s gun, placed close at hand on the tabletop.

Katarina glanced at Phoebe. The woman was only a handful of years older than she herself was and yet carried herself as if she were somehow far superior to her.

"Preparedness is the best and most effective tool for a Witch Hunter." Katarina replied indifferently, and added, "And trousers are comfortable."

"There are no Witches here." Phoebe replied.

Katarina took a long minute before she answered. Phoebe Capulet was from a distinguished noble family, with a great deal of authority, not just as a member of the Book of the Golden Lady, but also as a Noble House that commanded influence across the Empire.

"I killed the last Witch found in Darnell ten years ago." Katarina agreed. "A man that had ensorcelled the minds of everyone around him for decades before he was discovered." She explained. "Even now, even after so many years have passed since his judgement, people whisper and worry about his influences." Katarina explained pointedly, watching Phoebe bristle. "And it was only thanks to the Golden Lady and my gun that he was rooted out."

Phoebe nodded reluctantly. There was no other response she could give. He had been related by blood to her house.

"In the old days, back twelve hundred years or so," Katarina began as she buttered a biscuit, "it was believed that being a mage was a hereditary trait, passed down from parent to child." She tapped her face with the knife she was using, "Like eye color. And so if a Witch were discovered, all the remaining family members were likewise put to the torch." She set the knife down and used her biscuit to push her eggs onto her fork.

"We know better, now. The mage talent expresses itself independent of inheritance." Katarina finished, setting her fork down on the plate and wiping her face with her napkin. "But other things certainly seem to be passed along the bloodlines, else why would the Golden Lady say, ‘I will visit my wrath upon those that betray me unto the seventh generation.’?" Katarina mused. She forked some egg into her mouth, and then gestured with her fork at Phoebe.

"Lord Cardinal Verona, for example." She offered, and Phoebe gave her a puzzled look. "A thousand years ago, he ordered Alicia, called ‘Silverthorn’, to the stake when she revealed his corruption." Katarina offered by way of explanation. "Angland learned that lesson well; no man has held a position of significant authority since." She paused. "His House objected, but only until the point where Alicia was canonized as a Saint of the the Church." She explained. "Only then did they do whatever was necessary to distance themselves from that... including changing their name."

"What are you babbling about, Witch Hunter?" Phoebe complained.

Katarina rolled her eyes. "They changed their name to ‘Capulet’." She stated flatly. "Your family killed Saint Alicia a thousand years ago, and ten years ago your family tried to kill me." Katarina explained. "Of course I would come armed to a breakfast with you." She finished as if the information were self-evident.

Phoebe’s eyes widened in shock and horror. "You- you dare?!" She sputtered, hot with afronted rage. "You accuse-!" She tried again, and Katarina nodded.

Remembering her conversation with the Grand Cardinal, she smiled at the Lady Cardinal across the table from her. "This is where you threaten me and tell me that whether I live or die is solely up to your sufferance."

Phoebe never batted an eyelash. "What is it that you want, Witch Hunter?" She asked tiredly. Smiling, Katarina told her.

After her ‘lesson’ with Lady Cardinal Phoebe, Katarina left the Alstroemeria and headed to the Garrison, the fortress-citadel where the fighting forces of the Anglish Empire trained. She’d been there a few times since arriving in Darnell, the last time was because she’d needed to work off some stress. Today was the same.

No sooner had she finished her breakfast and left Phoebe’s quarters than she was accosted by an acolyte with a letter from her family. Her mother had quite a bit to say about her newly-arrived cousins, her younger brother, and the situations that had started developing as a result. The long and short of it was a not-so-subtle, "Katarina, come home, get married, and have babies. Lots of babies. We need you to cement this family’s authority and keep it from those scheming upstarts from across the ocean."

She agreed with that to some point. Shortly after meeting her cousins from Ardeal, they’d tried to kill her. The only viable way of succession for Bianka would be for Katarina to have a child. Even if Alsabet wasn’t an apostate, she wouldn’t be able to do anything; as a mage she’d lost all inheritance rights. Her brother might be able to hold onto the house by marrying beneath his station, but if the first issuance wasn’t a girl, the cousins would have a stronger claim to the House of Pavlenko.

Katarina found herself a training sword and one of the deputy instructors, who eyed her askance.

"Lady..." He began hesitantly, eyeing her in her full dress with high waist, scooped bustline, puffed sleeves, and practice longsword.

Katarina eyed him challengingly. "I’m a Justicar Witch Hunter. I’m in need of longsword training." She replied curtly, and raised her sword in a saucy challenge, blade flat and parallel to the ground, point level with his eyes.

He grimaced. "As you wish." He lunged forward, and Katarina parried.

Nadette caught Katarina and Kerran sparring a handful of minutes later. As Nadette approached, she watched the Witch Hunter, picking out details.

First, her form seemed a lot better than the last time the Witch Hunter had made an appearance. She’d heard Katarina had made several visits to the baptistery, so it was likely that helped.

Second, it was amusing to see the woman fighting in a dress. Not unheard of in the slightest, but she’d grown accustomed to seeing the Witch Hunter fighting in trousers. She was giving Kerran a good workout from the looks of it.

The only unusual thing she observed was Katarina using a longsword, instead of her usual saber. In fact, the blade she was using was a hand-and-a-half sword. Nadette raised an eyebrow at that. What use would she have to relearn that? She figured Kerran would be disarmed in a moment just a scant second before Katarina gave Kerran’s blade a circling flick, catching his crossguard with the point of her blade and twisting it out of his hand.

"Bravo, Justicar." Nadette called out in her gravelly voice. "You’ve defeated someone eight years your junior." She mocked. Katarina glanced her way and barked a laugh and grounded the point of her blade in the training yard indifferently.

"He nearly got me three different times." Katarina replied. "I’m not as good with the longsword as I am with the saber." She added.

Nadette nodded, and took up Kerran’s blade from the dirt.

"So why learn?" She asked, and gestured with it at Katarina, who sighed, shook her head, and raised her own.

"I’ve..." She began, and a thoughtful expression flickered across her face for a moment. "Come into a longsword. I need to be worthy of the blade." She explained. Nadette snorted. "Would be better for you to put the blade aside and stick with what you know."

Katarina shook her head, and met Nadette’s probing attack with her own. "I can’t do that." She replied, stepping to the side and flourishing her blade with a corsair’s twirl.

Nadette sneered at this, stepping into Katarina’s guard and bringing her own blade up, intending to lay the blunted edge against the Witch Hunter’s throat. Katarina interposed her blade between Nadette’s and turned the blow aside. They went back and forth several times until Nadette upset Katarina by savagely hooking the other woman’s foot with her own. Katarina’s feet tangled in her skirt and she fell, and Nadette brought her blade around to point at Katarina’s upper chest.

"Not bad, Witch Hunter." Nadette admitted. "If you hadn’t been wearing a dress, you might’ve bested me."

Katarina laughed freely at that, and accepted the other woman’s hand up. "That’s bullshit. You’d’ve just found another way to drop me on my ass." She replied comfortably, to which Nadette nodded in agreement.

"Are you done?" Nadette asked, and Katarina shook her head. "I need to be better than this, if I’m to use that blade." She replied, and Nadette nodded. "Then let’s get started."

When Katarina entered her apartments, all she could think about was sleep. She spent hours drilling in the stables with her drake trainer, and then almost immediately followed with several hours of longsword practice with Nadette.

She opened the door to her bedroom, already shrugging out of her vest, when she saw the other person standing next to her desk, back to her.

Katarina extended her antimagic field to its max and leapt at the woman without hesitation. Suddenly, the air solidified around her. She couldn’t move. She hung in mid-leap, arms out. The air was thick and supported her without allowing her to move.

The woman turned around, and her lips pursed with amusement. She was a pale beauty, with eyes like thunderclouds, and glossy black hair that tumbled past her slim shoulders and hung to her waist.

If Katarina could have taken back her assault, she would have. If she could somehow rewrite reality, it would have never happened. Dread and terror warred in her body as the woman sized up Katarina ostentatiously.

The woman wasn’t a woman at all, but an Angelic Spirit, a fragment of the Golden Lady’s own divine power given form and will. All of the Golden Lady’s angels were humans raised to the Celestial, but the Angelic Spirits were splinters of the Golden lady’s power, granted authority. Those spirits were represented in disaster and chaos. The sudden storm at noontime, the earthquake at dawn, the volcano belching fiery clouds and liquid rock in the dusk. This one was known in the ancient tomes as Simurgh, the Herald of the Storm.

At some point in the past, Simurgh had possessed a segment of mythril chainmail, which in turn her late master, the Justicar Witch Hunter known as the Wolf of Alastor had picked up, and hidden in a secret compartment in his gun, the gun that Katarina now possessed.

Further, that Angelic Spirit, fickle and mercurial as it was, had taken an uncommon interest in Katarina. And now, for the first time since she’d wandered the lands of the continent of Rothgar, the Angelic Spirit stood before her once more.

"You have work to do, Katarina." Simurgh spoke as if Katarina were not hovering mid-pounce in the air. Simurgh gestured at the crate that rested next to Katarina’s desk.

"Do you remember my name, Katarina?" She asked the frozen Witch Hunter.

"Simurgh." Katarina replied instantly. The Angelic Spirit smiled. "Eight thousand years ago, it was your people who called me that." she disputed, holding a finger aloft. "That isn’t my name." She murmured.

"You want me to speak the Divine?" Katarina asked warily.

Simurgh smiled. "You could, if you but remembered my name." the thunder angel replied. "If you think to call SACH DE AUAUAGO," a hard thunderclap outside punctuated this, "That is as much as title as Justicar, Daughter, Lover is to you." She advised.

Katarina’s ears were filling with a high, sweet whine. The cost of hearing- or speaking- the Divine Language was high. Without the proper protections, a listener would lose their senses at minimum. At worst they could find themselves irreversibly petrified, in part or in whole. One story, known to those few who studied such things seemingly avoided that fate for months. When he died and his remains cremated, his bones were said to have been petrified into solid emerald.

Simurgh frowned at Katarina. "You still do not-" She muttered in a voice filled with frustration. She cut herself off abruptly. "Listen, Katarina." She commanded. "Feel your strength within you. Gather your will. Exult in the wonder of your life, the life given you by Inanna." She glared at the Witch Hunter. "Hurry!"

Katarina closed her eyes. Exult in her life? What did that mean? Was she to feel proud? After a moment of thought, it seemed she was.

Look at all the things I’ve accomplished, she thought to herself. She’d lived for ten years, when the expected life of a Witch Hunter was two. She’d killed Witches beyond counting, an endless parade of mutants, blasphemies, freaks and abominations. She’d traveled to another continent. She’d accomplished the impossible. She’d found the ancient keep of the original Witch Hunters, she’d found the remains of not one, but three saints. She’d found the first capital, the ancient city of Osk, the first capital of the Anglish Empire, founded eight thousand years ago. She’d found the mythical Emerald Tablets and slew an immortal.

I am not perfect, she thought, but I am strong. Araya’s delighted laugh, Sasaki’s hungry looks, Frederika eyeing her from across the room.

"If that’s what you think is right, Katarina." Frederika replied to something Katarina had said to her ten years ago, "Then that is what we’ll do." No doubt, no fear, only trust.

If I am strong because they believe in me, how much stronger am I with my own belief in the Golden Lady?

Warmth suffused her limbs, her heart burned in her breast. She breathed in cool air and breathed out fire. Katarina lifted her arms, exulting in her strength, in the warmth that flowed in pulses from her heart, suffusing her body.

It was just like the time in the pool of the baptistry. Once more she felt the great mass of all of creation pressing down on her. Once more she pushed back, once more she was crushed beneath its weight. This time though, she burned. She reached down, deep within herself, deep into that searing pulse of fire at her heart, straining, willing, fighting.

Suddenly her mind filled with strange numbers, variables, incomprehensible equations and figures. The walls of the entire Grand Cathedral were crystalline; she could see through them with ease. She could see the other woman at her desk. She could point to her. She suddenly understood what Olivia was doing, and with that, the fire in her breast vanished, leaving a gaping hole swiftly filled with sickly dread.

Katarina hit the carpet with a thump, and was immediately wracked with convulsions. As she gasped and flopped around, helpless and powerless, the Angelic Spirit of the Storm knelt at her head.

"You have impressed me, human." She murmured, as she soothingly stroked Katarina’s brow. "Don’t let it go to your head, though." She warned peremptorily.

Katarina let out a weak chuckle at this, and Simurgh leaned down and kissed the Witch Hunter’s forehead.

"My truename is ZIZ." She whispered, and then suddenly she was gone. Katarina couldn’t do anything but lay on the plush carpeting of her bedroom as the convulsions ran their course.