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aila awoke with a gasp, her lemon chiffon negligee entirely drenched through. She feared it was saliva, though as the claws of her nightmare receded she would come to understand it was from sweat. In her dreams, she was plagued by visions of herself as a blonde rabbit being eaten alive by a large black wolf. He had eyes like a limpid sky; a long tongue like a sash of red velvet. The wolf ate her slowly, his red tongue slathering over her warm flesh, lapping away at the blood. She could feel the moisture of his hot exhalations as he savoured each chewy squelch of fat and hollow crunch of bone. All the while her pink nose flared and her legs kicked until softly, almost sweetly, she fell away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to cling to the soft oscillations of shallow consciousness. But it was too late. The sun pierced through her eyelids and hauled her into the saturation of morning with all its screeching demands of colour, scent and texture.

Laila whimpered softly as she burrowed into her lavender-scented pillowcase before confronting the distinct, intuitive sense that she was no longer alone in the room.

One of her guards stretched out on her bed beside her, ankles crossed, a long braid of pale, diaphanous hair sleeping soundly on her shoulder.

“Good, you’re awake,” said Lyra de Lis as she thumbed through the pages of the grimoire. She was not in her Lightshield uniform. Instead, she wore a purple satin coat and breeches with a floral-printed vest. “You seemed to be having a rough one.”

Laila scoffed. “Away with you Lyra, I haven’t the time for your nonsense.”

“How cruel you are to me when you promised we would visit the iceman today.”

Occassi, Laila’s mind corrected, its true name burrowed into her cranium like a maggot.

“Yes, but only when the scholars have arrived.” Laila propped herself up on her elbows, her face a picture of princess petulance. “What time is it?”

“The clocks have struck its first quarter.”

“Then we have hours before then!” She picked up her pillow to thwack Lyra with it before she glimpsed the grimoire. “Wait- you can touch that?”

“Of course I can touch it.” Lyra’s brow arched as she flipped a page. She waved the book for effect. “I’m doing so now, aren’t I? Though for an ancient and creepy spellbook it is a surprisingly dull read. Necromancy, body possession, familial curses, plague conjuring… how pedestrian!”

She twisted the book to and fro, as though hoping for more oomph to be found within.

“Well, it is only that your uncle would hardly go near it. You should’ve seen the look on his face when I held it out to him, I’d never seen a sprite so pale!” And their colouring was lacking enough as it was. “It’s why I brought it here with me.”

“His concern isn’t misguided, there is a very strong… essence that isn’t quite like aether.” Lyra’s brow furrowed. When handling items of magical origin in the past, she could always count on her sprite senses to detect the aether it exuded like a perfume. The grimoire was scentless. But more than that, it appeared to be deliberately pulling its energy from external sources around it.

“I can’t quite describe it, but it’s almost like I’m holding the abyss in my hands. Though it doesn’t affect me much so long as I skim.” Lyra glanced over at her in concern. “How have you been feeling since you’ve had it in your presence?”

“Strange.” Laila recalled the faint tendrils of her nightmare. “There’s almost a compulsion it holds, like the more you read it the more it wants to be read.”

“Best to put it away in the Chamber along with the others, then,” Lyra advised, “there’s an anti-magic field around it.”

“I’ll see to it later.” Laila waved a hand in dismissal. “For now, I am famished. Come, join me for breakfast.”

With that, Laila peeled away the silk cocoon of her sheets to slide her feet into her velvet slippers awaiting at the edge of her bed. She went to her serving bell next and rang it to alert the kitchen to serve breakfast.

On sultry summer days like this she always took breakfast on her balcony and, after her night terror, she found the current spread being set across her table to be a welcome sight. Soleterean pastries vied for attention beneath glass domes, enticingly smothered with powdered sugar, lavender honey, and rosewater cream whilst coils of white steam exhaled from silver pots of coffee and drinking chocolate.

Laila helped herself to a raspberry and rose religieuse and took a large bite, indulging in the melange of flavours—the tart berries, the delicate wisp of rose crème that melted so light on her tongue. For a solarite, a meal was to be a sensual experience and they would often give their food the same meticulous attention to detail as they would all else.

She told Lyra of her nightmare whilst eating.

“Well, that’s certainly disturbing,” Lyra said, taking a sip of her frothy coffee, “have you considered going to the oneiromancer about it?”

“What do you think?” Laila replied, her upturned nose wrinkling in distaste. She stopped attending consultations with the oneiromancer when she realised the contents of her sessions would always end up finding their way back to her mother. “No, I shall spare myself that ordeal. Besides I’m not entirely certain if it means anything. It may only be the influence of the grimoire. In which case, locking it away should remove the initial cause.”

“Still, being eaten alive by a large black wolf…” Lyra tapped her ringed finger absently against the porcelain. “Do you not suppose it may have something to do with our… What did you call it again? Occassi?”

“That is what I fear,” Laila admitted. She took another bite from her pastry, her bow-shaped lip coming away smudged with fondant. “Other than my nightmare I could barely sleep a wink for thinking he would break through the ice.”

“Perhaps we ought to break it out.” Lyra’s brows waggled in daring. “See if it’ll move.”

“Lyra.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you aren’t in the least bit curious?”

“I am not a slayer like you, Lyra,” Laila sighed, “my first thought when I hear the word monster isn’t one of conquest.”

“Then perhaps you ought to broaden your perspective,” Lyra teased, her blithe laughter echoing generations of swashbuckling sprites that preceded her and died bleeding for their hubris.

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Dr Isuka arrived when the morning was still new, ushered in by a fine layer of sea mist that rolled up from the shorelines. She exited the carriage alone, having rushed an injured Dr Hariken to the healing springs the night before.

The wounds she’d inflicted on herself had not been severe, and she thankfully hadn’t lost too much blood, but the morning after had seen her bedridden with fatigue. She’d been delirious, cheeks flushed with fever, ranting about how He had requested her blood and body in order that she might be worthy of being his cartographer—to map a path to the Shadowlands.

Rest, Dr Isuka had insisted, dispelling any requests her friend had made to come with her. She had not seen that level of mania in her before and the sight of Hariken’s sunken cheeks and black-patched eyes still permeated long after she’d left.

Princess Laila was already awaiting her in the audience room when she arrived, Lyra beside her. She wore a tulle dress in aqua blue fastened with ribbon straps at the shoulders, a plunging neckline baring her glistening skin to the sunlight.

Dr Isuka greeted her with a bow. “Your Radiance.”

“Hello again, Dr Isuka,” Laila replied, looking briefly behind her shoulder. “Only one of you today?”

“Yes, Dr Hariken has been taken ill I’m afraid,” Dr Isuka replied, before adding with feigned mirth, “I suspect it was something she ate.”

She kept her expression as poised as possible, having heard rumours that solarites could detect an untruth. Fortunately for her, such a power could only function under physical contact.

“How terrible, please send her my regards.” Laila and Lyra exchanged a look. “I’ll have to send you away with a little something to see to that.”

“Thank you, Your Radiance. You are very gracious.”

“Please,” Laila said, keeping her smile firmly accessorised. “But if you’d like to follow me we can discuss this more on the way to the Chamber of Chaos.”

They departed from the audience room into the stuccoed hallway where a gaggle of giggling starlets in swishing silks darted past them.

“Did Dr Hariken at least have a chance to look into what I asked?” Laila asked, stepping swiftly out of the way of the younger solarites. She watched them as they passed, their wildness instilling her with a certain longing. Her mother would never have allowed her to run amuck in such a fashion.

“Yes, we did,” Dr Isuka confirmed, “and as it turns out there are indeed more occassi than our lone case.”

Laila’s brow raised. Clearly that was not the answer she had been expecting. “Could you tell me more? How many? Where might they be found?”

“Dr Hariken will need a moment to fully translate what she’s been told.” Dr Isuka hastened to add.

“Let us hope she reaches much healthier spirits then.”

Dr Isuka swallowed as she thought back to Hariken piecing together that crude invention. Perhaps she ought to have paid better attention. Perhaps she ought not to have let it get this far. “But to answer one question: we do believe we’ve discovered a map to Calante’s dwelling place. Odds are the occassi originated from there.”

“How is it that you intend to uncover these lands?” Lyra asked.

“Well, we were hoping we might request your permission to charter a voyage north.”

“I am most certainly curious enough to want to see what is truly going on out there.” Laila gave it some thought. “I’ll discuss it with my mother.”

“How was it that you even became involved with all of this?” Lyra asked.

“My mother was a priestess,” Dr Isuka revealed with a shrug, “I grew up in a very devout sect of Caelestis. Throughout that time we would hear prophecies of Calante’s doom and how to best prepare for it. Dr Hariken and I were raised together and when we came into our aether sensitivity we both showed proclivity for aeromagic, the element of our home country.”

“And the interest in chaos magic?” Laila asked.

“That came later. We were never really able to shake our upbringing in that regard. Dr Hariken handles the artefacts, I was always more interested in monsters.”

“Monsters are for slaying, Dr Isuka,” Lyra asserted sternly, “not for study.”

“Spoken like a true forest sprite,” Dr Isuka quipped in response, “however even you cannot deny studying monsters makes them that much easier to be slayed.”

“On that, I would likely have to agree with Dr Isuka,” Laila said, despite talk of slaying unsettling her. “Though surely as a woman of academia you cannot possibly believe in prophecies?”

Dr Isuka closed the cryptograph and slid it back into her pocket. “I see no separation between my faith and my education, Your Radiance. For me the two are very much intertwined.”

Laila acknowledged this with a nod. “Fair enough.”

“Though as a woman of academia I have learned the merit of proof as a means of validating my assertions.” There was nothing like spending years amongst intellectual sceptics who thought themselves more rational than thou to grow a thicker skin. “For that reason alone I do hope some heliographs or perhaps even some biological material akin to our iceman can sway you more.”

They reached the antechamber where a hidden lift resided; the only means of accessing the lower levels. Laila cast an enchantment upon the wall to reveal it and the three of them huddled inside as it delivered them into the bowels of a pristine white hall.

Dr Isuka blinked blearily before it, like she’d been exposed to pure, naked sunlight.

“Beyond this point there will be an anti-magic field until we reach the vault,” Laila explained as they walked through the hall. No aether would be able to thrive inside the meteorite wall panels, nor the unknown dark matter that settled amongst the artefacts. “You may therefore feel slightly disoriented.”

The walk to the bolt door was mercifully a short one. Lyra stepped forward to steer open the bolt lock and the sealed door opened with an audible gasp.

Dr Isuka found herself unprepared for what lay inside. She walked in with her mouth ajar, eyes starred like a child in a toy shop whose fingers were spoiled for choice.

The Chamber was an underground vault where sprites and solarites alike catalogued various items of suspected chaotic origin. It had since become home to prohibited grimoires, cursed objects and even unidentified corpses of those with the misfortune to have contact with corrupting forces.

“My goodness…” Dr Isuka exhaled in surprise as she surveyed the tomes and ornaments beneath their glass cases. “Where did you find all of this?”

“From various places scattered throughout the continent,” Laila said, “I’m currently in charge of overseeing its curation but this collection has been building for centuries before I was even born.”

“Some of these items I wasn’t even sure existed,” Dr Isuka exclaimed, stepping near to view the crystal decanter labelled distilled ectoplasm and an hourglass full of black essence labelled reservoir of the abyss. She brought out a spectacle case that held a pair of amber goggles which she promptly slipped on.

“What are those for?” The sudden apparition of Lyra behind her caused Dr Isuka to jump.

“Please, ser, have some consideration for this human heart,” she cried, adjusting the goggles on the bridge of her nose. “These goggles help make aether visible to the naked eye. Perhaps not necessary to a sprite or solarite but for us—”

Dr Isuka lifted up a hand and saw the charged golden particles that surrounded it. Aether conferred around every living thing and settled in higher concentrations around those who were magical. Though none were quite so enveloped in it as a solarite who, as celestial beings, emitted aether themselves. Before the lens of the goggles Laila had all but disappeared from Dr Isuka’s view, swathed in golden light.

“That’s fascinating,” Laila said, left once more in awe at the resourcefulness of humans.

“That’s not all they do either.” Dr Isuka turned back to the display cases and saw that the objects too were enveloped. Though instead of aether, there were black particles that swarmed like flies. “They also show me the dark matter that surrounds all objects of chaotic origin.”

“Ah, that explains why I couldn’t sense it earlier,” Lyra said, eyes alight with understanding. “Chaos magic doesn’t use aether, it’s an entirely different essence altogether.”

“Precisely.” Dr Isuka raised a finger for effect. “And that is precisely what frightens me so much about it. All magic we use relies on aether, all of it, from elementalist to solarite, and yet here is a type of power that is more maverick—that doesn’t abide by our rules.” She stepped over to the velvet shroud draping the occassi and tugged it free. Inside, he was obscured by blackness in almost identical contrast to Laila. “It’s why I think our iceman is still alive in there.”

“What—” “—Alive?” Lyra and Laila cried in unison.

“It’s only a theory but aether doesn’t surround the dead, and if we were to look at one of the corpses presented here—” Dr Isuka moved next to one of the mortuary chambers and withdrew one to look at it. “You can see here that there are no dark matter particles surrounding it either.” She took off her goggles and held them out for Laila to take.

Laila received them with caution and slid them over her eyes to confirm Dr Isuka’s supposition. She turned back to the occassi and saw the black miasma that surrounded him. Her lips parted in awe as she reached out towards the particles, watching the way they repelled against her golden dust like the meeting of opposing magnets.

“How is this possible?” Laila wondered aloud. And what’s more, what was she to do with such information? To leave a corpse suspended in eternal captivity was one matter... but a living being? Even if he was, for all intents and purposes, a malignant one?

“We should inform the impératrice of this,” Lyra told her.

“Yes.” Laila scrunched her lips to one side, uncertain. If her mother knew there was even the slightest possibility that the occassi lived then she would not hesitate to have his body destroyed.

“It’s what’s best for everyone involved, Laila.” Lyra rested a hand upon her shoulder, already sensing her thoughts. She knew her friend had a strawberry heart that was too tender and too soft, too predisposed to bruising at any sign of hardship. “What would be the alternative?”

“You’re right.” Laila nodded, swallowing thickly. “I shall have an audience arranged so I can inform her of our findings.”

Dr Isuka’s back went straight as a rod in alarm.

“We should probably depart,” Laila said, withdrawing her goggles to hand them back to the scholar before she turned her attention back to the occassi. She closed her eyes, seeing flashes of her nightmare in a flurry of images like leaves kicked up by the wind. Was it a herald? Some kind of ominous sign of what’s to come? Ironic for her to consider, what with her earlier dismissal of prophecy.

Her mind wavered on the ethics of a preventative kill as the entry of the grimoire taunted alongside it. In the end, she knew it was no use. She couldn’t kill it, but neither could she spare it from its inevitable fate.

“Well, I suppose this is where you and I part ways, my fearsome friend.” Laila sighed as she pressed her hand briefly against the ice. The ice crackled in response and she pulled away with a gasp. “What’s happening?”

She took a step back in alarm, colliding into Lyra as she did so.

They all watched in horror as the ice splintered into a spidery web of fissures that slowly, piece by piece, began to crack and fall away.