Chapter illustrations by Spacepapaya_19

I looked very hard for a copy of The Crystal Mirror – the most reliable source on the Spell of Obtainment – but I failed to recover it. I am unsurprised – it's a banished text in Mystacor, and I have no reason to believe your mother would have it copied. I must rely on memory to recount the history of the Spell without this crucial scroll.

❂❂❂

Angella knew Micah wasn't the best dancer in the world. More bluntly, Micah was clumsy. Two hundred years ago, that alone would have disqualified him as a husband; a man who couldn't conduct himself with due grace did not deserve a queen as a wife.

But there was a certain charming grace as Micah let her lead the dance. Normally, he would have made light of his poor dancing abilities, and laughed up a storm as the other royalty gazed with a mix of disdain and pity. But tonight, he was oddly tense; a small smile rested on his face, but his dark eyes glinted with worry.

Angella felt it too – the way the air suddenly grew cold around them, the uncomfortable sensation on her skin. She looked back to where Shadow Weaver and her servant were dancing, only to find the Horde's second prancing alone daintily.

Her stomach grew cold. "Where did the felinetta go?"

Micah tensed further. "I don't know," he murmured. "Want me to go and talk to Shadow Weaver, try to get information out of her?"

"Isn't she mute?"

"Yeah, but she signs to me...sometimes."

Angella locked eyes with Shadow Weaver. She wore a beautiful ballroom gown, red and black, something that commanded respect. In her own sparkling blue dress, Angella felt almost...small next to the Fulminate.

Micah wouldn't get killed, would he? Shadow Weaver sent the two Force Captains on an errand, perhaps, and was just using herself as a distraction.

Micah hugged her. "Go find Carmen," he said softly. "I'll handle Shadow Weaver."

Angella's hand shot to her stomach, and her heart raced. What if Carmen kicked the baby?

It couldn't be worse than tangling with Shadow Weaver. So she nodded numbly, separating from Micah as he went to dance with his rival.

✧✧✧

"Damn it, Carmen," Tara huffed from Carmen's earpiece. "Couldn't you've done something to make this heist easier?"

Carmen crawled through the vents with a smile; she'd devised this plan precisely so that she and Tara wouldn't be trapped in close quarters - not that the beefy Silaxian could fit here anyway.

"Nah," Carmen said. "I ain't the one who came up with the plan. I come from above, you come from below, so we got two exits on hand. That's what my lady said."

"Your lady –" grunt – "sucks worse than a flipping vortex," Tara gasped.

"Hush up," Carmen said. "We're here." Flipping open her multipurpose tool, she unscrewed the vent lid and dropped down into the room. "You got that auto-alarm disabled?"

"Sure did, pussycat," Tara called back. A silver tile rumbled, and her fellow soldier popped up from underneath. Smoothing her buzzcut, she looked over the battery. "This it?"

"Yep," Carmen said, yoinking the thing into her pocket. Wiping her grimy hands on her uniform, she smiled. "Got the decoy?" she mouthed, just in case the room was bugged.

Tara snorted, nodding and rolling her eyes. "Yeah. Ready to go?"

"Hold it right there!" an old-Meyan accent called from across the room. Carmen jumped, hissing as King Micah's wife stood at the door. Angella conjured two handfuls of moon magic, scowling at both of them, unsure who to strike at.

Carmen crossed her arms. "We both got a battery," she said. "One's fake. One's real. Which one d'ya think has it?"

"I don't care," Angella snapped, scowling. "In five seconds, I will fire, unless you relinquish the property of Dryl."

Carmen stared the queen down, heart pounding. Of all the masters she could've had, she was serving a lady who encouraged adventure. If there was anyone in the world who could've inspired her, it'd have been Shads.

Angella began counting down. Carmen bit the inside of her cheek, hard. "Awright, guess I should give you a hint."

Then she pointed at Tara. "Get outta here! You got the real thing!"

Tara thankfully took the hint, dropping back into the passage. And Angella fired at Carmen's chest. Her body felt like it was on fire, and she grunted as she smacked the wall, the world becoming woozy around her. She never knew moon magic could make people so sleepy...

Angella banged on the alarm, and a piercing noise sounded in Carmen's ears. With a hiss, she pointed her death ray at Angella. But before she could fire, Angella gasped, hand going to her stomach. And in an instant, the queen teleported away, leaving her alone in the security room.

✧✧✧

Micah sighed in frustration as Shadow Weaver sat down at the bar. The woman was clad in an almost-opaque veil when she ate. He tried prodding her for information, but she refused to communicate with him. Not that either of them were that good at it – her signs were confusing, and she was frustratingly brief.

Micah waved for them to bring him some grape juice. Shadow Weaver cast him a glare behind the veil, and when she looked pointedly at him, he saw two shining spots behind it. Her eyes, he thought numbly as she donned her mask again. He couldn't see the rest of her face, but all he had to do was blow on the fabric with kinesis magic –

The alarm screeched, a piercing sound, and flashing red lights sang throughout the area. Ballgoers screamed, ducking for cover. The sirens let out a howl so loud that Micah's ears were deaf to all other noise, and he spotted Double Trouble shapeshifting into a monkey wrench to avoid danger.

Micah's head was a mess of rage and panic as he tackled Shadow Weaver, bringing her to the ground. She let out a grunt as her head smacked the metal floor. "What is your plan?" he snapped.

Shadow Weaver breathed deeply beneath him, clenching her fists. The Horde badge on her ballroom gown blinked. Too late, she signed dizzily.

Angella burst into the room. "Micah, the thief escaped!"

Princess Talyn had risen from her throne, and now stood above him and Shadow Weaver. "King Micah," she snapped. "Did you not read the invitation to the Prom?"

"No," Micah said honestly. "It was way too long. Surely tradition isn't worth –"

"Silence," Talyn commanded, her voice crystallizing. "This ball was held on neutral grounds. We may be a part of your alliance, but while you are in my kingdom, you will obey the ancient laws. We will deal with the thief on our own."

Micah looked back at Shadow Weaver, who had a smug expression on her mask. "Fine," he muttered, rising. He itched to lash out at the Horde's second, to force her to tell him where her felinetta went and what she stole. But Micah had to stay put. Otherwise, nothing would get solved.

"We will take the second-in-command into custody," Princess Talyn said primly, her prehensile braid moving as she gestured. "She has no reason to hurt you anymore."

Micah looked down at where Shadow Weaver had been lying. But she was no longer there. Instead, she was perched on one of the metallic overhangings, a bolt of dark magic in her hand.

No more time for games, Micah thought.

I. Must. Protect.

✧✧✧

Shadow Weaver stood at the top of the rafters, unhooking her staff from the folds of her dress. A new challenge presented itself to her: buy time for Carmen by dueling Micah in a ballroom gown.

She grinned, scars stretching behind her mask, and dropped down. Scarcely had Micah taken out his sorcerer's staff when Shadow Weaver struck, bringing her weapon in for a risky jab.

Micah parried the strike, twisting their weapons; Shadow Weaver kept a firm hold on her staff. Red lightning crackled beneath her fingers, but as she tried to overtake his weapon with the runestone's energy, light shone from Micah's scepter.

It was blindingly painful. Shadow Weaver heard herself cry out, and she was momentarily blinded, everything in her vision a pale pink. Her gut grew violently ill; she had to get away...

Micah stepped on her ankle. "Yield to me, and leave this kingdom, or I will hand you over to Dryl," he commanded. He sounded like an adult. Like a king. Shadow Weaver could barely hear – all noise was replaced by a dull fuzz.

But she could still sense his signature in the midst of the blindness. The Spell allowed her to feel the thumping of the magic he'd ingested before coming to this fight. She could even suck him dry of the trace magic that was in his system.

She hadn't attempted this since she killed Master Norwyn. Since she killed Norwyn...

Shadow Weaver needed his power to escape. So she concentrated, focusing only on the magic he'd drawn in from the outside. The power reached her, and as she flared it, her vision cleared. Micah sank to his knees, his face pale and sweaty. This skill could be useful with practice.

Shadow Weaver rose to a stagger. Their mission was accomplished; she had nothing more to do here. They needed to report to the Fright Zone and deliver their findings to Lord Hordak.

❂❂❂

Did you know...

- Every so often, an illustration was made by one of my readers. As a side note, if you make some high-effort fanart, please share it with me! It will be added to the story. 😃

- I tried very hard to have references to how Norwyn's murder haunts Shadow Weaver, but unfortunately, when I tried to go into detail I ended up having issues with the story's "center of gravity," so to speak. But I hope these little flashes of remembrance will suffice.

Tell me what you think...

- Why does Shadow Weaver still respect Micah in spite of all he does to thwart her plans?

- How long will her respect for him last?