[edited: 04/06/2018]

The next day, Remy found herself in a room that she had been in only once before, when she had been locked in the cells for a night and a trial was held to decide what the Council would do with her, a mortal girl stuck in a world that was not hers. All of that seemed a million years ago now, though the room still looked exactly the same, with its hand-painted pictures and marble floors.

The bright orange sun was high in the mid-afternoon sky and cast rays of light into the room, turning everything unbearably golden. She and Maksim had slept until noon, and had risen out of bed only when Hilda ordered them to, saying that another trial was to be held. Remy was quite certain that this trial would have a much different outcome to her first one. Hilda had said it was to decide what to do with her and Sarah now that the Dark War—that is what they had named yesterday's battle—was momentarily over. Of course, it would not really be about them, but the key. Still, she was nervous. A part of her already knew what was to come, and what it would mean for her and Maksim. It seemed he was thinking the same thing, too, for he had barely spared her a glance since she had left his bed.

He was sat beside her now on a well-cushioned chair, his lips pursed and his eyes focused on the Principle Warlock as he stood up by way of beginning the trial. Sarah was on the other side of her and she was receiving a similar silent treatment from her, too, though that might have been because of the strange new environment she was in—or at least, that's what Remy told herself. She remembered what it felt like to be surrounded by warlocks and witches for the first time and was surprised to find that she had grown accustomed to it now. It was quite a shame that soon she would no doubt be erased from this world and sent back to her own and none of this would matter anymore.

"We shall begin the trial." The Principle Warlock's voice echoed through the hall just as it had the first time she had been here. She did not feel any more comfortable with the Council's eyes on her now than she had then, though now the scrutiny was shared with Sarah, another mortal girl who did not belong. She might have been grateful if she did not feel so guilty.

"As I am sure you all know, Remy Morgan and the Opal family were involved in the Dark War last night. Remy is currently in possession of the key that the Dark Ones so desperately want, and they have proven that they will stop at nothing to get it. I have called this trial in order to decide what we shall do next; the mortal girl has shown great bravery and protected the key despite the danger it has entailed, but this is not her world and she cannot stay here forever."

"There are no specific laws against it, sir," a yellow-haired witch said from behind the long table of Council members. Remy did not recognise her and was surprised at how things had changed; before the battle, there had been no one who had wanted her to stay, and now it seemed as though they were defending her, trying to stop her from leaving. "Of course, it is against our people's beliefs to keep a mortal here, but might we make an exception that the girl may stay or leave as she pleases?"

Remy noticed Maksim's posture change from the corner of her eye. He had straightened his back and was now leaning forward as though he was watching a particularly tense scene in a movie. She wondered whether it was what he wanted, for her to stay. She hoped so.

The Principle sighed, crossing his arms solemnly over his black robe. "I am sorry, Mrs. Cromwell, but I cannot allow a mortal to portal frequently between this world and her own. It would be careless and far too much of a risk. The Mortal World must not find out about us, and I fear that allowing the girl to come and go as she pleases might allow this to happen. It is simply not an option."

He paused, his grey eyes falling on Remy. She couldn't help but notice how tired he looked, his skin paler than usual and the lines in his face more deeply etched than she remembered. He did not seem harsh or stony as he had during the first trial, though, when the very idea of a mortal was enough to make him bitter. Instead, he appeared almost welcoming, but that did not stop Remy from shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Which is why," he continued finally, "I propose that Remy may visit once a month, mortal time. It is clear relationships have been built, and Remy has done a great deal for Astracia. She deserves to have a place here, too, even if it cannot be a permanent one."

"Once a month?" Maksim questioned, uttering his first words since the trial had begun. His voice was hoarse and his skin still inflamed from the battle, though there was much more life in him today. "It is not enough."

"Maksim," Hilda scolded from behind the table, her eyes narrowed into slits. Remy supposed that she still wished to make a good impression on the Principle, and Maksim's confrontation might have prevented that, though why it mattered now she did not know; her son and daughter had started a war and was responsible for many deaths. That hardly provided one with a good reputation. "Once a month is merely a matter of days, weeks, for us. Do not be ungrateful."

"Ungrateful?" he repeated disbelievingly, standing up with clenched fists. Remy sighed, her hands clutching at her key. Of course she wanted more, but she knew as well as everybody else that it was impossible. She could not build a life between realms, not when she had her family to return to, not when sooner or later she would need a stable life. "Do any of you have any idea what this mortal girl has done for us? She might have died yesterday, and the most you are willing to give her is a flying visit once a month? I do not think it is I who is ungrateful, nor do I think it is fair how you all sit there behind your table dictating our future, our relationship, while it is us who have fought so hard. How many of you fought in the war yesterday? How many of you sacrificed yourselves the way that Remy did?"

"Show some respect, boy!" It was a green-haired warlock that was shouting, his face red with anger. Remy could not understand why at first, not until she noticed that the seat next to him was empty, and many of the Council had cast their heads down sadly. Some eyed the empty place at the table, and Remy wondered who it had been. A mother or father like Hilda, perhaps? Remy had been so busy facing Ackmard that she had not even thought about all of the deaths that might have occurred on the other side of the lake. 

Maksim sensed his own mistake and his expression softened into one of guilt.

"Sit down, if you would, Maksim," the Principle ordered quietly, and Maksim hesitated before obeying. Still, he would not look in Remy's direction. She longed more than anything to be able to hold his hand throughout this, or at least get a reassuring glance from him. Last night, in his arms, she had never felt more at home, and now she had never felt more lonely. It would always be one extreme or another with him—another reason why it could never work. "There have been enough battles of late, I think. I ask that all of you would keep from arguing. This trial is not being held in order to see who might scream the loudest, or voice their opinion with the most passion. I would simply like to figure out the best plan for all of us."

He glanced at Maksim and then at Remy, pacing around the hall. His shoes squeaked against the shiny glass floor, and it was the first time that it did not seem as though he was floating rather than walking. It seemed as though war made everybody a little more human—or, in this case, warlock.

"I know that there is something between the two of you. I will not embarrass you and ask what that is, for I am sure it is natural to develop something after spending so much time together, and fighting against darkness together." Remy felt her cheeks heat up at this, though she tried to appear nonchalant. "I know that you would wish to see each other more often, but I cannot condone that, and I certainly cannot risk the Mortal World finding out about us because of it. I am sorry, Mr. Opal, but once a month must have to be enough. Take it or leave it."

"It will never be enough," he muttered, and then before anyone could predict it, he was marching out of the room, pushing the door so hard that it continued to swing in and out of its frame moments after he had disappeared.

Remy squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry, trying to keep her breathing steady. Of course she felt the same, but what was she to do? She could not stay. She could not ask for more, because already she was being given so much more than she was expecting.

"Now there is just the small matter of the key."

There were a few mumbles among the Council now as people shifted awkwardly in their seats. It made Remy wonder how such a simple object had caused so much trouble.

"The key should be destroyed." It was Hilda who spoke, her green eyes darkening as she eyed the piece of metal hanging just beneath Remy's collarbone. The thought made her stomach drop, and she clutched it again, memorising the curves and edges of it before it was taken away for good, for it might have caused destruction, but without it, she would not have met Maksim. It was becoming something of a comfort to her to feel its weight around her neck, and as she unclasped it and let it drop into her hand, she realised that she felt unusually light and empty without it. She remembered how it had pulsated in the black waters of Nil Lake, how it had saved her life, and she found herself wanting to defend it as though it was a person. She didn't, though. She was too tired of fighting a losing battle and now simply wanted to go home.

The Principle picked up a small wooden chest from the table and made his way back over to Remy. His grey eyes bore into hers as he opened the lid and held it out expectantly. This time, it was clear that he would not risk the burn that the key could cause. "Agreed," he said.

Remy nodded and let the key fall into the chest, closing her eyes so that she would not have to watch it being taken away from her, because she knew that if she did not have the key, she did not have much at all; with it, she was leverage against Ackmard, and she had power that had overridden his. Without it, she was just a mortal girl with no need to involve herself in any of this. Without it, there was no reason for her to stay.

"I would like to thank you, Remy. You have been a great help and a valiant warrior. You have taught us much about your people and we will not forget that."

"I doubt that," she said, just loudly enough that the Principle must have heard, though he did not react. Instead, he turned to Sarah, acknowledging her for the first time. She had been so incredibly silent and still throughout the whole ordeal that even Remy had forgotten she was there—but then, that wouldn't be the first time.

"I believe apologies are in order. You should not have been involved in this fight."

"No, I shouldn't have." If she was intimidated by the Principle, she did not show it. Sarah had always been rather good at masking her true feelings, though. Unlike Remy, she was unemotional, always able to compose herself no matter what the situation. It was one of the only things that Remy envied about her.

"In normal circumstances we would use a simple memory-wiping spell, that you may forget all of this ever happened and go back to your normal lives," he continued as though she had not spoken at all.

"No!" Remy shouted, fear greater than she had ever felt, even when facing Ackmard, welling in her stomach. She did not realise how loud she had been until a few members of the Council jumped, taken aback. "You can't do that. Please."

The Principle held a steady hand up, a small smile on his face as though he found Remy's response rather amusing. "Do not worry, mortal. These are not normal circumstances, and I would not be so cruel. Just know that should you change your mind, the possibility is there."

"It needn't be," Remy replied. "I don't want that."

There was a light scoff that seemed to come from Sarah, and Remy glanced uncomfortably at her. Sarah was not looking at her, though; Remy didn't think she had looked at her since last night, when they had found her in the main hall with another warlock. Her brown eyes were cast straight ahead, unblinking. Her detachment scared her. Sarah had been a lot of things, but she had never been this indifferent. Remy found herself wishing that she might have been angry or hysterical, for anything would have been better than nothing at all.

"Then there is no use in prolonging the inevitable. I believe the portals are ready for you downstairs," the Principle sighed finally, crossing his arms behind his back and looking sympathetically at Remy.

"I think that perhaps it is time to say your goodbyes, dear mortal."

[A/N: dedicated to @moonforest1124 because she's been so helpful with advice and I really appreciate the support. thank you!!]