Time flowed like water. The summer heat lingered into the cool autumn nights where it gasped its st breath before giving way completely to the colder months. The leaves turned and fell from the trees; they covered the streets like crunchy red and yellow carpets. Halloween passed and November arrived. Scale continued her work of closing high-ranked Gates, but she remained out of the public eye as much as possible. Eventually the eyes of the paparazzi, much like the temperature, cooled off, and Scale could finally return to her home. Her awkward stay in Sarah’s hideout came to an end. She wouldn’t miss it.

  “Ah.” Scale stood stunned in front of the snowed-in path leading to her door; the unshoveled white mass was so high it made eye contact with her. She grumbled under her breath at a new concept of home ownership she hadn’t considered during her rental years: having to do the shoveling herself. It wasn’t the physical aspect that irked her so much as being out in the cold weather in general. Dragons typically, much like the lesser varieties of reptiles, weren’t particurly strong against the cold.

  “This sucks so much,” said Scale as she shivered beneath about four yers of scarves and coats. Her magic energy alleviated the problem but didn’t remove her instinctual discomforts. She would occasionally gaze longingly at the Tomtoms’ house in the distance—between Harper’s ability to grant environmental adaptation magic and the plethora of servants to handle menial tasks, their family home looked genuinely attractive. The knowledge that she wouldn’t be welcomed there did temper her thoughts. She would only be turned away by Harper but that would still make the atmosphere awkward. Both of Harper’s parents were quite happy with and supportive of Scale.

  “Maybe I should just see if I can pay a kid from the neighborhood to shovel for me next time?” She wiped her red nose and pulled her wool hat down tight over her ears. A cutting wind made her move faster.

  Thankfully, due to her physical ability, it didn’t take her long to chew through the mountain of snow with the wide pstic shovel. The inside of her home remained warm despite cking occupants for the st few months because she paid her bills on time. The oil furnace had full tanks because her utility company was fairly competent.

  Scale shook off the snow and peeled off her extra yers. She scoured her cupboards and eventually found some packets of cocoa. She warmed up a mug and sat in her living room, watching the gentle snowfall through the window.

  The holidays were coming up soon and she realized that she needed to prepare. She sipped her hot chocote and pondered. Outside the gray sky stretched endlessly.

  “We’re at a dead end,” said the investigator. He set a stack of papers down on the table and sighed. “Tomtom’s girl still isn’t pying ball and obviously the returnee can’t be touched. The Association is backing her with all they’ve got.”

  “I heard our civil case is progressing well.”

  “It is, but the Association doesn’t really care about that. They have more money than they know what to do with. They won't throw away the Princess over this. She’s worth more. There’s a limit to the damages we can cim.” The investigator pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth unlit. He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in a long time. His clothes were disheveled and his movements were desynced. He looked like a dead man walking.

  The executive leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. He rubbed his temple. “The CEO,” he said, “Is furious. He’s considering extra-legal action—”

  “I wouldn’t advise that.”

  “I know.” The executive sighed. “The fact is, the Returnee is too strong. Not just personal power, either. A sibling retionship with Portal and Watergss…”

  “I’m pnning to drop this investigation.”

  “Aren’t you the Unwavering? A man who cares about justice more than his life?”

  “Maybe if it was only my life on the line.” The investigator pulled out an envelope and spped it down.

  “What’s this?”

  “I found this on my office desk a few days ago. No sign of who put it there. The door was still locked. Go on—open it.”

  The executive pulled several photos from the envelope and subsequently dropped them between his shaking fingers. “T-this is—”

  “Portal is fucking scary as an enemy, man. I see now why the Russians want her dead.” The investigator scoffed and lit his smoke. It took two tries for his lighter to ignite. He took a long drag. Despite his stoic demeanor, there were signs of nervousness breaking through the facade. “Turns out, if you can truly go anywhere in the world at any time with just a thought…” He didn’t finish the sentence. The pictures said enough.

  The executive’s pale face shuddered. He looked up at the investigator with deep eyes. “You know who my boss is.”

  “I do.”

  “Caroline is all he had left of Marcy. You understand if you do this it’s a death sentence?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why not—”

  “I hid my kid away, you know,” said the investigator. He tapped the ashtray. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away. Not even you corpo fucks could have found her.”

  The executive stood up from his desk. His pale, resigned face glowed in the low light of the office. He turned around and pulled a bottle from the shelf in the corner. He poured two drinks. In the gss’s reflection he could see the investigator reaching into his coat. His voice wavered as he asked, “Then how did they?”

  “If I knew that then her picture wouldn’t be in that fucking envelope.”

  Thunder cracked in the small office.

  “Well done, Harper.” The professor handed back the written exam with a smile.

  “Th-thank you,” said Harper. She looked down at the page with a high number written at the top. It was the highest grade she’d ever gotten since her freshman year. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to smile.

  It didn’t make sense to her. Harper’s grades climbed every day ever since— She crumpled the paper’s edges. Her hands shook. She looked up. An empty seat caught her eye—a seat that only she seemed to care was empty. She gagged on her own tongue.

  “Can I be excused?”

  “Sure.” The professor waved his hand dismissively. Harper stood up and sprinted down the hall to the bathroom. She couldn’t hold onto her lunch. The feelings in her heart were twisting her stomach. She left the stall and met her own eyes in the mirror over the sinks. Dark circles on her face made her look like a panda. Her ribs showed through her shirt.

  “Dad, she kidnapped them!” An old conversation echoed in her mind.

  “She saved you, Harps.” Her father wore a stern but gentle expression. He wasn’t smiling.

  “We have to tell someone—”

  “We’re not telling anyone.”

  “D-dad but that’s…”

  “Sometimes the right choice isn’t always the righteous one.”

  Harper gagged again. The memory faded and she met her own cowardly eyes. She wanted to punch the mirror. She had admired her father more than anyone in the past, but now she hadn’t spoken to him in months. Now she wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Perhaps she could have stayed true to herself and denied both her father and Scale…

  Perhaps she could have denied them—

  “Only if,” her soft voice echoed in the empty bathroom. “Only if everything hadn’t gotten so much easier.” Her eyes reddened.

  Without her bullies holding her back, her academic performance ascended to an entirely new level. No one pulled her out of practice sessions anymore. No one tore apart her homework after copying it anymore. No one beat her until she couldn’t move and made her practical scores drop anymore. Everything became so easy. And all it cost was—

  The image of her father’s face as he left the bunker all those years ago overpped with the expression he wore in their st talk. The malice in the world had shattered her innocence. She stared into the eyes of an accomplice—into her own eyes. She punched the mirror. Gss shards and blood filled the sink.

  The CEO of Green Stone Securities watched the camera footage with an unchanging expression. The investigator showed an envelope to the executive. Both men spoke in hushed voices. Then —Bang— and immediately after all the papers and pictures that were brought vanished into thin air. The CEO smmed his desk. He picked up his phone and made a call.

  “I’ll do it. Send me the wet team.”

  “... Good.” The person on the other end of the line replied in a thick Russian accent.

  “I’ve got the address to Portal’s safe houses.”

  “We’ll also be sending you something better than the wet team.” The Russian voice ughed. “We’re sending Anatoly.”

  Anatoly the Fist, commonly known as the world’s strongest awakener, boarded a ship and looked down at a dossier with a smile. Behind him, seventeen men in bck suits kneeled.