“Figure what out!? What do you know about Camelia?”

  Beatrice grinned from ear to ear, her abyssal eyes growing even wider, almost as though they were about to merge into an all-consuming black hole. Yet, even with the exaggerated, disturbing expression, no emotion could be garnered from her visage. She was just as doll-like and lifeless as ever. “This is an act I haven’t witnessed from you in quite some time. Did she whisper in your ear? Did she give you false hope? Was it in the first dream? The second? The last? I wonder…”

  “How…? Have you been stalking me? Watching me?”

  Her face relaxed into her usual gloomy, expressionless side. “The Nye Inkorpt aren’t the only ones capable of keeping a close eye on those they are interested in. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ does not matter. Keep walking forward. Continue down the path.”

  The person known as Beatrice Blackthorn, Ma’at decided, would never give her the answers she desired. She would only tease her, lead her on with mysterious words, sow seeds of doubt in her heart. She wouldn’t have it. “Forget it. You can keep your secrets.” Except one thing. Her head still pulsed and throbbed incessantly. White hot spears of pain shot through her skull with every passing second. The source of the debilitating torture had been the nightmare that she forgot entirely. The dream may have been nothing but a facade and an illusion, but the pain was very much real. “Tell me. What did you mean by ‘that elusive place’. What was it I saw? Why can’t I remember? It’s barely been half an hour since then, and even now, I can’t remember a single thing about it. Can’t you give me a straight answer just once?” She was nearly pleading now.

  Beatrice studied her in silence. She didn’t move a muscle. If she hadn’t been blinking, Ma’at would have thought she’d been suddenly petrified. Finally, she opened her mouth and spoke. “Intoning its name would be like generously gifting you its key for no good reason. It is a place of immense beauty and unfathomable suffering. A place of absolute suffering can only be reached by those who have truly suffered. Thus, it is not yet open to you nor the others.”

  The clouds shifted. The sky darkened. Night had been approaching for some time now. To reach their destination would take a couple days at least. Shadows crept, grew, and began to engulf the Cloudstriker in an icy grip.

  Ma’at thought on it, and pondered the situation at hand. Camelia had never mentioned anyone named Beatrice nor anyone of the Blackthorn lineage. This woman couldn’t have known her before, so perhaps she met her recently? It wasn’t an impossibility. She hadn’t seen her for years, and when they had fallen out, the witch had ventured into the vast unknown in search of worldly mysteries. She was a timid yet thickheaded girl, determined to the end even if her goals were selfish and naive at best. She wanted all the knowledge the world could offer. She sought an understanding of everything including the very foundations of the world, to her own detriment. Never once did she think about the consequences her quest would manifest. Never once did she consider that there were others beside herself that cared for her, perhaps even more than herself. A faint memory from not so long ago surfaced as the sky dimmed from an infinite azure blue to a sultry black dotted with wondrous stars, but it vanished all the same as Beatrice’s grin re-entered Ma’at’s field of view.

  The stars glimmered endlessly behind her, cloaking her pale frame and gothic dress in an ephemeral light. She shut her parasol, tucked it somewhere behind her back, and just like that, it disappeared completely as if she had pocketed it. Though, it was much too large for that. Ma’at guessed her pockets had magical properties similar to that of Tien’s briefcase. “Allow me a suggestion while I have you here. The real reason I called you.”

  Ma’at looked over her shoulder at the deadbolt door leading back into the airship. While they talked, Noth had walked back out onto the sky deck without her noticing and stood guard in front of it. An eerie thought crossed her mind, but she dashed it and turned back to Beatrice. “What kind of suggestion? I’m not really in the mood. Honestly, I’m dead tired.”

  “Oh? Certainly, after such a nightmare, the mind would be stretched and warped. I suppose such a thing could be mistaken for tiredness…” She spoke as if she didn’t understand the concept of sleeping at all. “Here is my suggestion: a bout.”

  “A bout?”

  Beatrice nodded, her silky black hair wavering in the brisk wind. The air had grown much colder since nightfall. “The Frostlander you have met, my companion, taught me a great deal about how his kind come to understand one another. They fight. They duel to near-death. He describes it as physical communication. In other words, I believe we will understand each other better after a duel.”

  “What? A duel? Where the hell did that come from? I already told you I don’t have the energy for something like that.” Refusing Beatrice’s call, she spun on her heel and started to make her way back to the door where Noth stood resolutely. Before she could take even a couple of steps, however, her battle sense warned her of imminent danger.

  The strange girl had leapt toward her armed with something Ma’at hadn’t seen before. With just one hand, she held a monstrous blade made out of an almost otherworldly crystalline substance. And at its core, a mysterious amber-colored light shone deep within. Crystal thorns, spikes, some like needles made up the weapon’s whole.

  She held up one of her noctite blades to deflect, and that she did, but Beatrice spun around weightlessly and kicked her backward. Still, she managed to stay on her feet. “Kah… What game are you playing? I don’t understand what you want from me!”

  Beatrice returned to a neutral stance, the black greatsword held at her side. “What I want? Hehehe… that’s funny. I don’t really want anything. Didn’t I tell you already? It’s my goal to point your nose up to the petrichor so that you may know the arrival of rain. Take my existence as a warning from the world. I am the calm before the storm, so to speak. My aims are little more than my will… instead, they are simply what must happen so that you will be prepared for that gaudy ball.”

  “Again with that…? The Scarlet Masquerade… Why is the Writer interested in something… so… regal?”

  “Hehe. Everything is related to objects. A state of affairs, in this case the Masquerade, is simply the combination of objects. The possibility of its occurrence in atomic facts is the form of an object. Objects are simple. Objects make up the substance of the world, that is why they cannot be composite.”

  Beatrice spoke in circles and in riddles most couldn’t fathom, but for some reason, Ma’at felt as though she had begun to understand the enigmatic girl’s words for once. “Objects, huh? You mean the Writer is looking for one particular object? Or a collection of them?”

  Beatrice’s grin faltered slightly. “He is neither ‘looking’ for one particular item nor a combination of objects. He is simply being taken by the flow of time and reality’s countless idiosyncrasies. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he is taking advantage of them?” As if they hadn’t just conversed peacefully, she ran up to Ma’at and swung her massive blade at her with reckless abandon, as if she hadn’t ever wielded a sword in her entire life.

  Even so, Ma’at struggled under the sheer force of the heavy weapon slamming into her raised blades. How could such a frail-looking girl wield such a weapon? It was just one more mystery atop the endless others that made her what she was. After the last slam, Ma’at jumped backward in an attempt to retreat and catch her breath.

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  “Don’t run, Ma’at. A duel is a duel until it’s over. There is no running from it.”

  “Why are you holding back, then?” It was true. Even if Beatrice’s brute strength seemed to far outmatch her own, it was obvious she wasn’t applying any techniques or fighting style to her blows. She was just swinging the sword around as if it were a foam toy. As if they really were playing a game.

  Her sunken eyes narrowed at Ma’at’s question. She hit the nail on the head. But just as she thought she had her figured out, the girl in the black, frilly dress giggled yet again. “Because… I don’t want to kill you.” For a moment, she appeared more inhuman than normal. Briefly afterward, though, she returned to her ghostly look. “Hehe. Am I stronger than you thought? Did you perhaps misunderstand me when we spoke back at the Port of Aerodynamics? When I said Reville’s view of me was flawed, I did not mean I was weaker than a dragon. The opposite, in fact. Class A is much too low, but I understand why they would choose that for me. They don’t understand my peculiarities. Or they choose not to understand.”

  “S-Stronger than a dragon? How is that possible? You’re just…”

  “‘Just’ what? Isn’t there a saying? ‘Don’t judge a book based on its cover’, right? A simple phrase that carries a profound meaning. Not everything in the world can be understood through human sight alone. There are things that the senses fail to perceive. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Ma’at shook her head, regaining focus. Surely Beatrice only meant to scare her. Surely it was no more than a nonsensical boast. Even then, the pale lady held the monstrous manifested sword with but one hand. Now she saw why Noth respected her as much as he did. Even he would grow intensely tired after wielding his greatsword with one hand only. So, instead of pure strength, it had to rely on magic. It was the only logical explanation. She panted and thanked Asophi that Beatrice had given her time to rest. “Haah… is that your magic, then? Is all Blackthorn magic like that?”

  Beatrice tilted the blade in her hand and peered down at it ponderously. “They are all similar in form, yes. But my spells are much more graceful and refined than that meathead Darriel’s, or many other members of the family for that matter.” As if to demonstrate her power, she opened her sword-hand and the weapon dematerialized instantly, shrinking into abstract geometrical shapes until vanishing into thin air. Then, she raised her palm upwards in a seemingly pointless gesture. However, directly following it, massive jutting spikes filled with the same amber ichor shot out of the ground Ma’at stood upon, carving minor scratches and wounds into her body before she ran to the other side.

  That was enough to anger her. She couldn’t stand feeling like some toy being played with. Though she wouldn’t admit it, the fact that Beatrice was of a higher standing doubled the ire building in her chest. She wanted to humiliate the nonsensical girl and put her in her place. She hadn’t seen the things she’d seen. She had never been faced with the terrors of war, the true horrors magic could conjure. Other unfounded conjectures about the woman filled her mind, though she didn’t know her well enough at all to know if even half were true. Yet, the anger continued to build and build until it welled up in her throat. She gripped her blades and lunged at Beatrice with bestial fierceness.

  For many minutes and up to an hour, the two continued their duel under the night sky. The clangs of black steel against Beatrice’s crystalline creations rang out almost ceaselessly, drowned out by the harsh wind and the rumbling of the airship’s engines. At last, when Beatrice seemingly had her guard down, Ma’at sent forth her blades. They careened toward the woman in black’s exposed neck with no sign of stopping.

  Even Noth’s statuesque form faltered for a moment as a slight twinge of worry shot through his heart. But what happened next immediately calmed him and put a grin on his face, though it couldn’t be seen through his mask.

  The split second before the blades could make contact with her moonlit flesh, the same crystalline pattern formed in tiny specks to protect her, and with them, Ma’at’s blades struck dead and were thrown to either side of her.

  Astonishment and exhaustion claimed her, and so she fell to her knees. She didn’t even have enough energy to move her blades anymore, let alone stand and continue to fight.

  But Beatrice did nothing. She stood and stared at the Sirithisian, then glanced at the bright moon above, then stared at her again. After what felt like another grueling hour to Ma’at, the girl began clapping. She clapped for her. Not an ounce of hatred nor sarcasm was in the action. Beatrice simply clapped her hands in congratulations and a tiny smile formed on her lips. “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. What did you think, Noth?”

  “She is a fine warrior worthy of the pack,” the gruff man called out from the other end of the sky deck.

  “I agree,” Beatrice said while walking toward her. She stopped in front of her kneeling foe and held out a hand.

  Bewildered, Ma’at took it and sluggishly rose to her feet. Every one of her limbs ached, and her headache had only gotten worse.

  “You and the others will be fine allies in the coming event. Why do I think this? Because I believe I have come to understand you truly, just as you have started to understand me. Am I wrong?”

  At this point, Ma’at decided that she’d go along with whatever the woman said, even if her heart didn’t quite align with hers. All she wanted to do was sleep. “Sure…”

  “Even though I didn’t quite describe it well, I assure you it will be fun, in a way. It is a great gathering of many different objects, all painted in a variety of hues and reflections. The Masquerade will be more akin to an art piece in the end rather than simply a state of affairs. Though, to the naked eye, it may just appear as one color and one color only. Hehe.” The pleasant smile changed back into the same grim, sardonic grin she always wore.

  Tired of it all, Ma’at nodded and trudged back to the airship cabins for some much needed rest.

  Outside, Beatrice flashed Noth a sinister smile, then pulled it back into an eerie grin. “Humans are barely any better than animals. A little praise, a bit of coddling, and they become so greatly trusting.”

  “Are you okay, Ma’at? You look awful. Worse than before,” Sato said as Ma’at entered their room.

  “Thanks a lot,” she replied sarcastically. The weight of exhaustion pulled her to her bed.

  Tien tried to stop her, examining her arms and legs. “You’re covered in wounds. What happened?”

  She crashed onto the mattress face-first, her mind already retreating into a sweet slumber. Her voice was muffled by the wool blankets and sheets. “Nothing.”

  “Did that Blackthorn lady do that to you?” Sato asked, unconvinced.

  Her caring inquisition was met with muffled snoring. Ma’at’s back softly rose up and down in a calm rhythm. She had finally found some quality rest. This time, she wasn’t assaulted by the usual nightmares nor the torturous dream she’d had before. She simply slept and enjoyed succumbing to sleep, her mind blank and uncaring for the world moving around her.

  Sato and Tien sighed, shaking their heads in unison.

  “She really hasn’t opened up yet, huh?” Tien mused while organizing things in her case.

  “I wouldn’t say that, but… she doesn’t talk about her at all.”

  “Who?”

  “Camelia.”

  “Ah, that name she mutters in her sleep, yeah? I was wondering about that.”

  Sato eyed Ma’at with some apprehension, then continued anyway. “She doesn’t talk about Camelia or anything about her past. I tried asking her about the Relic War… but she wouldn’t budge. I guess I started to get carried away. I thought she could talk to me about anything.”

  Tien looked up at Sato with a wry grin, then returned her attention to her countless belongings. “Just give her some time. We’ve got a long road ahead of us, after all.”

  Sato’s face brightened as she imagined the coming future. “Mhm. I think I’m ready for someplace new. I’m ready to leave Reville behind. For the time being, at least. Some new sights will help set me at ease.”

  “True, I feel the same. I can’t wait to discover new species, new locales, new relics…!” Tien hugged her dimensional suitcase with spastic glee. Her eagerness to collect even more magical junk was plain for all to see. “Well, we should get to bed then. Don’t want to wake her.”

  “Right…”