Seiren sat back with a sigh and wiped sweat from her forehead. The citizens, armed with yellow runes to light their way, orange runes to give them warmth, and enough violet runes to keep everyone waterproof until spring, disappeared before her eyes. The end of the corridor now opened into a dungeon room that lay empty, thanks to the violet runes she'd applied deceptively, the designs of which took another hour. To anyone passing by, this was an empty dungeon, but if they stepped beyond the threshold they would see the bewildered citizens making their way one by one down the half-frozen sewers to escape. She only hoped she'd magic-proofed it enough.

A year ago, you won't have been able to produce so many intricate runes in two hours. Nicely done.

Seiren grinned to herself. Guess I have improved.

She picked herself off the floor and dusted her cloak. Now to return it before anyone realised she was masquerading beyond her rank. She turned the corner and almost slammed straight into someone's shoulder.

"Well, if it isn't Seiren Nithercott."

Her blood turned to ice. She looked up into the scarred, disfigured face of Domic Butterworth. Her old abdominal wound started throbbing again.

What is he doing here?! said Madeleine, recoiling.

"Mage Butterworth." Seiren's voice was hoarse, but she managed to still the tremor at last minute.

"Are you not out carrying out the king's orders?"

"Of course I am." Seiren swallowed. "I've been searching for them in the southern sector. I haven't managed to find any of them yet."

"Interesting." His voice gave nothing away.

He brushed past her and eyed the end of the corridor. Seiren held her breath. If he didn't see through her runes -- he was a flash mage, and with their tendency to specialise so much into their own branch it was likely it had been years since he'd last touched a rune -- it should be okay. Unless he were to walk straight through her violet rune. Or maybe something would give it away -- maybe the piping was just out of alignment or the ground didn't appear to meet the wall.

"Why the south sector, Mage Nithercott?"

"I have to start somewhere."

Less of the snark, Seiren. If you get too defensive, he'll get suspicious.

He's suspicious anyway.

"It's interesting that none of the mages can find the people of Acrise."

Seiren bit her tongue.

"It's almost like they vanished off the face of Karma. One would even wonder if someone is... hiding them."

He's onto us.

Stay calm, Seiren.

"No-one would dare to go against King Pollin's command, surely," she said in a nonchalant voice. Butterworth turned around and Seiren felt as though every fibre of her being was being analysed by the single calculating hazel eye she could see behind the spectacles. The ominous air was suffocating.

"I should hope not. Treason is punishable by death, after all, mage or not." He smiled, making his features even more contorted than they were already. "It's fascinating, though. I'm sure several soldiers have mentioned you'd led a crowd of Acrise citizens in this direction. And suddenly, poof--" He splayed his hands open to mimic a cloud of smoke. "--they're gone."

"Funny, that."

His lips curled. "I would hate to think Kristen Harred's daughter would blatantly lie to the king's representative to his face."

"Maybe I've killed those people like you ordered us to already," she fired back without thinking.

His eye gleamed. "I thought you said you haven't found any of the citizens?"

Crap. Seiren gritted her teeth. He goaded her on purpose. He knew mentioning her mother would tick her off.

"What are you hiding, Seiren Nithercott?"

"Nothing." Her hands balled into fists.

"Remember what I told you? If you play the game right..." he said, approaching. Butterworth touched her cheek. She flinched; his skin was cold as ice. Overhead, the scream of an intruder alarm sounded, ricocheting off the walls and making Seiren wince. . "...you'll always get what you want."

She stared at him. The world spun in the background.

"Guess the fun is just about to start."

"Aren't..." Seiren blinked and steadied herself against the wall. "Aren't you going to stay and help?"

He raised his remaining eyebrow. "I am a king's mage. Fannying after citizens is not my job."

She glared at him.

"It's not yours, either."

"I beg your pardon?" she said in a frosty voice.

"You need to come with me, Nithercott."

"And if I refuse?"

Butterworth's eye glinted.

"There are ways of persuading you. You don't need your left arm, do you?"

Seiren whipped around and dashed away, heat rushing up her back and clashing with the arctic her head had just become. She almost expected Butterworth to leap on top of her, but he never materialised at the doorway she'd burst from.

What does he mean? What game?

I don't know.

Remember what he said? What did he say?

I said I don't know, Madeleine!

****

Domic watched the little brat tear off. Hope. She still had hope. Hope that humanity was still redeemable. Hope that despite war being on her doorstep, she could still avoid it. The difference between mother and daughter was like heaven and earth. It didn't matter. A plant without roots would eventually wither. Danaway was reduced to a shadow of its former self once resources dried up and taxes rose sky-high. A little girl like her would be no trouble. He had time to drag her out by her hair. Her little antics were getting irritating, though. It was trouble enough stopping her from getting herself killed. Halen Ashworth had put up a good fight.

He snorted to himself. And she was a terrible liar. One small jibe and she'd spilt the beans. With so many eyes on everyone in Acrise, did she really think she could hide a whole city's population without anyone noticing? He'd banked on the short Woodbead to do some heroic stunt just like he'd done two years ago, especially when faced with something that conflicted with his laughable morals. He wasn't surprised his prize student did the same. People with moral compasses were so easy to manipulate. All Butterworth did was approve the assignment of a barely-competent new mage, too eager to please and too naive to live, to a post he was unqualified for, against the advice of the graduation coordinator at King's. That gave more than enough fodder to bring Edgard Woodbead crashing down from his throne of interference. And the same trick worked twice. It was hilarious.

He eyed the empty dungeon room before him. He knew it wasn't empty. Nithercott wouldn't just be idling here looking for people. They must be hiding around here.

He blinked. Water eased out from between the cracks in the stones and vaporised before tearing straight into the room. Whatever hidey-hole they might have, they couldn't block air.

To his surprise, the steam met an invisible but solid wall, running along its surface before hitting the adjacent walls and ceiling on all four sides.

"The little bitch," he said. He studied the flow of steam before it dissipated. Smooth, faultless, sealed on all four sides. He couldn't see any runes lining the edges. She must have hidden them. He would never admit it, but this was somewhat impressive. Definitely Kristen Harred's daughter.

He blinked again, harder, this time. A rush of hot air flew past him before he gestured with burst magic instead; white-hot flames followed. Again, it hit the invisible wall at the same spot, the flames licking its surface before disappearing earlier than he'd intended. A magic block that absorbs energy as well. His face darkened. This was getting more and more annoying.

He wanted to see if this little magical wall could block the entire building if it collapsed. Spreading his hands, he cleared his mind, before conjuring up the memory of Edgard Woodbead being sentenced to exile two years ago. The familiar thrill and satisfaction came in a rush. No more snooping Woodbead. No more looking over his shoulders for one of his men eavesdropping on their plans. And the judges -- every single one of them under his thumb.

Magic swirled.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Irritated, Butterworth sighed and turned around, his eyes landing on a cloaked figure. The alarm continued to blare in the background.

"I hope you realise you interrupted one of my happiest memories just now. What do you want?"

"Your life."

A snap of fingers conjured up a small sandstorm in the narrow corridor that closed in on Butterworth. One blink and a torrent of water rushed up from the drainage nearby and burst into steam, dispersing the sand.

"You'll need to try harder than that."

"Tch." The mage snapped her fingers again. The ground shook. Dust fell from the overhead archway. Butterworth eyed the wall on either side. Some of the bricks were quaking in their little cubby hole, becoming looser. He stepped back just in time. One of the bricks shot out and would likely have broken his shin if it struck. It crashed against the wall and split into two.

Butterworth blinked, throwing out a hand. The water he'd summoned burst into steam and rushed at the mage. She threw out a hand, attempting to block it with a blast of air, but Butterworth was stronger. He followed up with another blast of steam. The impulse threw the mage's hood back and scorched her hand. She yelped, stumbling backwards.

"Well, well," Butterworth said, straightening up and using one hand to brush his floppy brown hair out of his eyes. A grin spread across his face, catching just above his lip on the right side. "Tesla Relish. Isn't this a blast from the past? How long has it been: ten years? Twelve?"

Relish scowled at him. "Fourteen."

"Has it been that long already?" Butterworth kept his words light. Relish was a flash mage, like him, and he recalled their sparring sessions back at King's. She was bloodthirsty and unwavering. "If you're here, I'm guessing the rest of your merry crew is here, too. I like what you've done with your hair."

She bared her teeth at him. She knew he was jibing at her. The waist-length brown hair she had back then -- now at chin-length -- coupled with a long face and prominent teeth had made her look horse-like. She even had the dark brown eyes with long lashes to go with it.

"Isn't it a bit pretentious to think you can come for my life? I'm not just any mage any more. You think you can take me on?"

"Crina managed, eh -- looks like she's burnt your face pretty good, eh?"

Butterworth's face darkened. He had no intentions of staying too long exchanging pleasantries, not when the invasion alarm was sounding and the Nithercott girl got further away. That was meant to be his cue to leave Acrise with her in tow.

Relish moved fast. A series of snaps echoed down the corridor and the bricks rippled along the way before firing in succession across the narrow corridor. Butterworth blinked. Rushes of steam from the ground hit the bricks as they emerged, changing their trajectory enough for them to collide into each other and avoid him. He threw a hand forward; a blast of steam followed. Relish threw up a wall of sand, negating any damage. The steam rose and disappeared through the new cracks in the ceiling.

He drew his hand back. To his surprise, the steam didn't follow.

"What did you do?" he barked. Relish didn't say anything; sweat glistened on her freckled brow and cheeks. The wall was covered in white sand. He tugged at the water vapour again. Nothing. He brushed his fingers on the grainy surface. It dawned on him and he snarled. Desiccants. Relish specialised in flash magic that manifested as sand. The last he'd seen of her, she'd managed to create tsunamis of sand and similar large scale attacks. It seemed like she'd mastered microscopic manipulation since.

"What will you do now, eh, Domic?" she said in a low voice. "Your magic isn't as amazing without water now, is it, eh?"

"Who said there's no water?" he sneered. "This is Acrise, the city of rain and snow. Of course there is water."

He spread his hands and summoned the familiar exhilaration of success. Magic erupted from his fingers, trailing along all the small nooks and crannies in the wall. The place shuddered. Outside, snow melted to become water and came down in a torrential pour.

Relish dropped the desiccant wall and with a snap of her fingers and a stamp of her foot, she drew up a solid wall from the ground. It crashed into the ceiling. The water poured around it but she sealed it with another clap. Water slammed against the surface on the other side. She whipped around.

A blast of steam hit her in the face. She screamed, clutching her face. Butterworth took the chance to slap the palms of his hands on the walls on either side and draw out all the moisture before releasing it as steam, drowning the entire area in white fog.

"I'll kill you, Butterworth!"

He grinned at the agonised, furious face of Tesla Relish before disappearing.

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