The experiments largely consisted of Stella performing various tasks while Feathers recorded data and took notes in several different notebooks, and some even in different coloured pens.

  “Interesting,” Feathers mumbled before making some more notes in some sort of shorthand scrawl that didn’t look like any language Stella knew.

  Stella had done her best to flirt with Feathers all throughout the experiments but Feathers was too focused on whatever story the data was telling.

  “So, am I going to live?” Stella teased when one particular page of squiggles had been stared at so intently she thought it might catch fire.

  Without missing a beat and in complete seriousness, Feathers replied, “Oh, you, you’ll probably live for thousands of years yet. Remember when I took some of your blood. Not only does it not show any signs of degradation, I used it in a spell and... well... it’s amazing. It’s like if I keep the spell small enough and regulated, it can just keep going. It doesn’t run out. It’s like your you’re own little perpetual motion machine or something, except real. I mean, healer blood in known to have longer lasting properties but yours is amazing. It makes no sense. I need to run some more tests.”

  Stella was glad that Feathers didn’t have a commercial mind anywhere in that lithe and lively body. All Feathers cared about was the research. The pursuit of knowledge was the founding principle behind sorcery after all and if you didn’t share that view, you’d never get into the school in the first place. Then again, most warlocks had been students of magic at some stage and that was a group whose focus lay very much on the financial.

  Eventually she gave up on trying to flirt and instead focused on what she had come here for. Playing it casual, Stella asked, “What do you know about time-locked spells? Is there anyway to reverse them?”

  Feathers laughed. “The point of a time-locked spell is that you’re not supposed to be able to reverse them.”

  “So..?”

  “So of course somebody found a way. It’s stupidly simple. You just reverse the time-lock first. Of course reversal spells are tricky things in and of themselves. Some people stack them because the chance of getting multiple reversals right in a row gets real tricky, but those are the same kinds of people who put several locks on their door and leave two unlocked. It’s insanity.”

  “What makes it so hard?”

  “Well most magic works on a state of mind right. To reverse a spell you have to recreate the circumstances that created it, including the state of mind, or least close enough to. Some people are good at it but not many.”

  “What if it was a spell done by multiple people?”

  Feathers snorted and gave a shake of the head, drawing Stella’s eyes up to that soft white hair. “Well then, good luck.”

  Stella considered it. Technically they were reversing two spells but with Murphy reversing the time lock was the only one that really mattered. Maybe they’d get lucky and find out that part had only been done by one person.

  Feathers frowned before giving Stella a sly smile. “Was that the trade you were after today or were you looking for something else? Because I was hoping to get some more of your blood so if you wanted something else I can probably help.”

  “Well...” Stella matched that sly smile with a sexy one of her own and with gentle touch she graced Feathers’ hips with her fingers.

  “Except that,” Feathers replied quickly with an apologetic smile. “Not today anyway. I’ve got far too much to get done.”

  “You have zero deadlines,” Stella protested with a pout, “Other than those you set for yourself.” But she withdrew her hands and shrugged. She could see she wasn’t going to get anywhere today.

  Feathers smiled. “Maybe if you come back on Monday.”

  “Maybe,” Stella answered, but her own mind had distracted her now, with an image of a book. She couldn’t quite make out which one, only that the room was brightly lit by natural light. “Are there books on it?” Stella asked, unsure what to make of this vision and whether or not it related to Murphy’s request.

  Feathers shrugged. “I suppose there must be. But it’s a niche field. It generally requires high skill in all five pillars.” Feathers ticked them off finger by finger. “Power, efficiency, control, malleability and not being a fucking idiot.” I mean, good sorcerers are usually reasonably proficient in the first three at least, and the last one was more of a joke but then it got added for real because well, honestly, being an idiot’s what kills most people. And I don’t mean in general. All it takes is one fuck up and even sorcerers have their idiotic moments. There’s some debate among the archmages about adding a pillar for ‘diligence’ but nobody wants six pillars for some reason. Apparently there’s also a group who want ‘creativity’ and ‘adaptability’ but both of those are kind of covered by ‘malleability’, and then some people want to remove the one about ‘not being an idiot’ but I think that’s the most important one you know. But malleability is the one most people really struggle with and that’s the one you need for reversals. That’s all about making your brain think the right kind of way to suit the situation. But even the first three there’s usually a trade off. People can be taught and improved but they’re rarely naturally good at all three. Like you, you’re super efficient and powerful but you can’t even turn your healing off and I mean I guess you are relatively well controlled for a psychic but the relative comparison in that case is not a high bar. Psychics never have good control, just like a lot of elementals. And of course those with stronger powers tend not to survive into adulthood anyway...”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Mmm,” Stella agreed as Feathers continued talking. It was common for child firestarters to accidentally burn to death, for teleporters to accidentally teleport somewhere fatal, for telekinetics to stab or pin themselves with flying objects and so on and so on. But not all childhood deaths were the result of magical accidents. Some of them were Murphy’s doing. Selective removal of the young made things more peaceful and what was a handful of lives for a lot of extra peace? Stella wasn’t sure she agreed with that but then she didn’t have to see it happen. Murphy and Bambi took care of the young ones and supposedly they took only those whose deaths made the world better. Stella still didn’t like it, not the way they did it. Stella didn’t kill, she only saved.

  That didn’t mean she didn’t still exercise some measure of choice. Who she saved and who she didn’t. Sometimes she thought about it, those lost lives, who they might have been. But there were many like that, lives that might have continued onward if they had been nudged down just a slightly different path, some which were impossible to exist on the same timeline, but each one a life. She imagined them as if they were her children, so many possibilities. Evey day she foresaw people’s lives and their deaths, too many to save, and even if you did save some of them it wasn’t like it was forever, all it ever bought them was a little more time. What was 150 more years of life in the grand scheme of things? They all died eventually. Sometimes it threatened to overwhelm her until she shut them all out and reminded herself that she was and did not have to be anything but an observer. It was enough just to sit down and watch a show at the theatre, to enjoy it and in that joy bring a little more value to the world. Only after she did that could she find she was capable of stepping up to save anyone at all.

  Stella envied Feather’s single-mindedness. Despite all the outer shapeshifting, Feathers was always the same comfortable, introverted soul. Feathers didn’t go out much because Feathers had little interest in social affairs, maintaining appearances, or any kind of fakery. Feathers only cared about the truth of things. No one but Bambi knew exactly how hard Stella had to work to maintain the image she presented to the world. Not even Gabby could read that deep. Stella enjoyed Feathers company for that reason. Feathers met no expectations and expected none in return.

  She was a little sad when it was time to go but there was yet more work to be done. Feathers had suggested the library, which was deeper into the mountain, but Stella’s instinct or perhaps her magic was telling her to head upward instead. Following a path of hallways which she had never walked before yet which felt intimately familiar, Stella wound her through narrow passageways and out along sky high walkways, with nothing but her own balance to keep her from tumbling into the clouds below.

  It was up among the clouds that she came upon a garden, neatly manicured with round rose bushes, small hedges, and perfectly trimmed lawns. From a few rows over she could hear voices.

  A man was speaking quickly. He sounded annoyed. “I don’t understand why you can’t just wipe her memory, why this one gets to be the exception. She violated our rules and she wasn’t exactly sorry about it. Left as she is she is a threat to the very foundation of this entire order.”

  A woman replied in a more tempered tone. “She is no threat to us and she’s useful.”

  “I don’t see how,” he whined in a high pitch. His words flew just as fast as before.

  “That’s because you don’t see much.” The woman’s reply was curt and far too peppy for the bard she’d just made. It had been an intentional one though, that much was clear. She appeared to be enjoying rustling her talking partner’s feathers.

  His voice grew smoother and slower. “Oh, I see plenty. I see that this has a lot more to do with your relationship with her than-”

  “There is no relationship with her. We are old acquaintances and nothing more and the council agrees with me so it would do you well to hold your tongue.” Her tone had turned more serious now.

  “You might have them fooled, but you cannot fool me.”

  Stella peered between the leaves, trying to gauge who it was that was speaking. The man was tall with brunette hair and a finely trimmed goatee. He wore glasses just a tad too small. The woman wore glasses as well but hers were on the more oversized side. Her hair was blonde and tightly curled into perfect ringlets. She was shorter than the man but her posture no less assertive.

  At the sight of them Stella quickly left the rose garden out a side exit, glad that she hadn’t been using any of her powers too actively during her eavesdropping behind the rose bush. She was pretty sure she knew who that was, who both of them were, archmages. Worse than that, Eden Brooks, the woman who had been speaking, was a binder, one of the best. Bambi had warned of her seemingly sweet nature which hid a ruthlessness that rivaled many an aristocrat. Such aptitude for politicking was rare among the sorcerers whose very mission usually went against such things. Too much ambition beyond a yearning for knowledge was usually squashed out early in young mages if they were ever grated entry into the school in the first place.

  But there was Eden, master manipulator. It wasn’t even her binding magic that Bambi had primarily warned Stella about. Rather, it was the woman’s immense skill with empath infusements which was the danger. Stella had always been weaker against that kind of magic. Thought control she’d mastered, but emotions, they were much more difficult. It would be for the best that she kept a wide berth around people like Eden.

  Despite the warnings and a desire to quickly leave this place, Stella somehow soon found herself standing right outside the door to a room which she knew to be Eden’s office. Her visions had somehow taken control of her feet while her mind had been distracted.

  “Oh, curse the fates,” she mumbled, and went right on inside.

  The door was surprisingly unlocked. Whether or not Eden had some way of notifying her that someone was in her office was completely unknown but something drew Stella forward and she had learnt long ago it was usually best to listen to her instincts.

  The office matched the image she’d seen in her head. It was well lit and filled with plants and books. One book in particular caught Stella’s eye.

  As she walked toward it one word made itself known in her mind. Reason. With it came an entire mass of visions of Coal talking to a woman, a woman with red hair tied up in a braid, a woman who wanted this very book.