Hecate was beautiful. Even shrouded in shadows, she seemed to emit an eerie silver glow that reminded Remy of a new moon in a clouded sky. It was difficult to look anywhere but at her, for she demanded everyone's attention—even the warlocks' and witches' who stood on either side of her like guards outside of the queen's palace.

Remy could not help but wonder why she was here, and brushed her clothes down self-consciously. Beside her, Hilda was as still as stone, her green eyes frozen on the woman in front of her.

"You must be Remy, the mortal girl," Hecate smiled. She had been sitting on a large slab of marble, but now she stood up politely. "And Hilda. It is nice to see you again. You look well."

"I am as well as I can be, thank you." Hilda sounded about as friendly as Remy had ever heard her, and if she was not standing in an underground tunnel that sheltered the goddess of witchcraft, she might have been surprised by it. "Thank you for inviting us. I must admit, I was surprised to have received your message. It has been a while since we last spoke."

"I hope you will forgive me for that. We live eternally, and yet there is never enough time to do all that is desired. It is nice to finally be reunited, though, even if it is under such dire circumstances."

Every word she said sounded musical. The way slivers of gold danced beneath the witch's dark skin was enough to hypnotise Remy, and she could not help but wonder how the key, which had caused so much fear and pain, could have been created by such a being as her.

Hecate stepped forward so that she was only a few inches from Remy and Hilda. All that stood between them now were a three steps where the platform she was on began, and a cool breeze seemed to radiate from her, though it did not shift her flowing robes or blow her hair out of place. It passed through Remy, though, causing strands of her hair to curl at the ends and float weightlessly behind her. The torchlight spattered painted silhouettes across the walls over and over. The only thing that remained unmoving and constant was Hecate and her braced guards.

"I believe you brought the key, young one?"

It took Remy a moment to realise that Hecate was talking to her, and she reached into her back pocket, nodding with urgency. "Yes. It's here."

She thrust the key out in front of her, taking a few steps forwards so that she could hand it over.

"I do not wish to hold it. I only needed reassurance that it still belongs to you." Hecate blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, Remy noticed how strange they were. They seemed to possess a whole galaxy, with swirls of purples and dark blues pooled around clusters of gold flecks. There were no pupils, and no whites surrounding the iris.

"I don't understand," Remy said, frowning and lowering the key. It was cold, icy cold—the opposite to how it usually felt when she encountered warlocks and witches. "This key never belonged to me. I wore it around my neck because I found it washed up on a beach in the Mortal World. Why would you want me to have it?"

"How can you say it does not belong to you after all it has done for you?"

"All it has done for anyone is start a war and put people in danger."

"That is not all it has done," she responded in a knowing tone, and descended the steps until she was face to face with Remy. She was much taller than her, even when they were stood on even ground, and she looked more like a painting than a real person. She was all golds and purples and silvers merging together like watercolours, and her skin gleamed where the light bounced off it. Remy had barely believed Maksim to be real with his beauty—how could she be? "It has saved your life on more than one occasion. It has protected you from unclean hands. It has given you a new source of life. Am I wrong?"

"How do you know about that?" she whispered, thinking of the time she was pushed into Nil Lake. Hecate was right; she should have been dead, would have been, were it not for the key she now held in her hands.

"When I discovered that the key still existed, I made sure to keep track of it. I know everything you have done since arriving in Refilyn."

There was a sudden anger that rolled over Remy and brought a flush to her cheeks. "And you didn't think to step in? There was a war. People were hurt. What were you doing—sitting here in your underground lair, enjoying the show with your pointless guards by your side?"

"Remy," Hilda snapped from behind her in warning.

"It is alright, Hilda," Hecate responded, flashing Hilda a quick, reassuring smile before her focus returned to Remy. Every movement and expression was slow and gradual, as though she was in no rush to react to anything that occurred around her. Remy could only wish she knew what such peace felt like. "You are right to be angry, but you should know that I did not step in because I could not. There is no place for me above ground anymore, and it is dangerous for people to know that I still exist, particularly if those who are hungry for power find out. I went into hiding a long time ago, young one. I was not prepared to come out of it when the situation was being handled well enough already."

"The situation isn't being handled at all." Remy scowled at her own bitterness. Talking to Hecate this way felt exactly like the first time she had talked to Hilda, with more bravery than she had expected to have. She knew by the unease she felt that she should not raise her voice to someone as powerful as her, but this was not her creator as it was Hilda's. This witch might have been superior in Refilyn, but in the Mortal World, she was nobody. It was this thought that helped her to maintain the strength in her voice. "Ackmard and Erika are still out there, I still have the key, and everyone is still in danger."

"And yet you and your loved ones are still alive—because of you."

Remy's eyebrows furrowed at this, and she shook her head in bewilderment. "I did nothing. I was pushed off the cliff."

"Yes, because you were valiant enough to risk your life for the sake of making sure that the key did not fall into the wrong hands. Remy, you are the reason that the Dark Ones have not already thrust chaos and blackness onto this realm. They do not have the power to do it, because they do not have the key. You are the Saviour of Light."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. You ignored a war because you thought I, of all people, was doing a great job of stopping it all on my own? I'm not a saviour, I'm a mortal, and this key isn't mine. I can't keep pretending like it is."

"You are a mortal, but that is not all you are."

Hecate glided past Remy to the far wall and pointed at a tapestry that hung there, spanning from one corner to the other. It was filled with a plethora of colours and images with a border of stars and crescent moons surrounding it, though much of the edges looked frayed and blackened. Remy followed, eying the smaller paintings etched onto the cloth. Though it was illuminated only by firelight, she could make out a few of the pictures: the key, with all of the same swirls on the bow, though it looked silver here; Nil Lake, and a boy with hair as black as the lake's waters, with eyes to match. He had the same complexion as Hecate, and the same face, though his was more chiselled. 

"Millenniums ago, I created the key for good. I wanted it to enhance light magic, that if it were ever needed, our people had the means to protect themselves. It was my brother, Thanatos, who filled it with darkness."

"How?" asked Remy, and without thinking, traced her index finger over one of the diagrams. It was of who she assumed to be Thanatos, the black-haired boy, holding the key and grinning at Hecate. He looked just as Ackmard had the night Remy had first seen him in the cells of Central Hall; determined to wreak havoc, with glittering eyes filled with shadows. The only difference was that Ackmard had never held the key the way that Thanatos had. Hopefully, he never would.

Remy's eyes flitted towards Hecate uncertainly to see if she was bothered by her touching what was clearly an ancient artefact. Hecate did not seem to be paying attention, though; her eyes were glassy as she looked at the same painting on the tapestry.

"I am glad you ask," she said, sounding a million miles away now. "The truth is that the key is not a key at all. There is nothing in this world that it can unlock, save for the door within oneself."

Something in Remy sank; all of that time she had spent looking out at the sea with the key in her hand, wondering what it might unlock to find that the answer was nothing. She had imagined solitary, haunted houses in the countryside and chests filled with another person's secrets, millions of doors that existed to hide the thing lying behind them. All of that was gone now. The feeling of holding something unknown, something that had the possibility to do anything, was gone. The mystery had been solved.

"We are but a Door of Darkness made to be unlocked," she murmured, tracing the words she knew were etched into the metal, even if they were not in her language. "If it wasn't intended for bad, why are those words on the key?"

Awe flickered in Hecate's eyes—it was clear she had not been expecting Remy to know the quote. "My brother engraved the quote when he took it from me. The only thing I ever etched into the metal was my name."

"Okay." She raised an eyebrow and unfurled her fingers so that the key was in clear view in the centre of her palm. "So if it looks like a key but isn't a key...What is it?"

"A mirror."

At some point, Hilda had moved to stand beside Remy so that she too could take in the tapestry. Now, surprise crossed her features. She had not known, either, even when it had belonged to her once.

Remy did not understand. She lifted the key before her face, searching for some evidence that it was a mirror as Hecate had said, but the key was as black as charcoal. "There's no reflection."

Hilda scoffed at this. "Do not be so literal, Remy. Not all mirrors are based on vanity."

Hecate pushed Remy's hand down until it was in front of her chest. Her skin was just as cold as the key and sent tingles through Remy's arm so that she almost wanted to snatch it away. The only thing stopping her was the fact that Hecate had already begun to explain.

"This is a mirror of the soul. It reflects the good and bad parts of you, and gives you the power to magnify these parts. It was good because I used light magic to make it so, but it was tainted by my brother. It reflected his darkness and then, when I tried to destroy it, the darkness of Nil Lake. It has been the same ever since—until you. You have made it what it was always supposed to be, what it was before it first saw evil. Your goodness is enabling the key to fulfil its true purpose again. That is why I wish for you to keep it; there is nobody more worthy of it than you, and nobody more capable of using it to restore the balance of light and dark in Refilyn. I must admit, I did not expect a saviour to come in the form of a mortal, but your physical form no longer matters."

"Are you asking me to fight the Dark Ones?" Her voice shook as it bounced off the stone walls, surprising even her. The thought of facing Ackmard again made her want to recoil into herself.

"Fight is not the word I would use. It is up to you to decide what to do, young one. All I know is that if anybody is capable of bringing this war to an end, it is you. As long as you have the key, it cannot be used for evil and thus will serve no use to those who have turned to dark magic."

"But I have to go home. I'm not allowed to stay here anymore. I'm a mortal." She gulped. Her throat was so dry that it made her dizzy. "There are thousands of warlocks and witches out there who are far more capable at this than I am. I can't stop Ackmard."

"The key chose you. I only wish to honour its choice." Hecate stepped away from the painting and sighed as though she was somehow disappointed. "Can you think of anyone better suited?"

Remy hesitated, though a name sprung to mind straight away. "Maksim."

Hilda and Hecate exchanged cautious glances. It was strange to see them this way, strange to see Hilda so close to another person that she needn't use words to express herself. That, and this was the quietest Remy had ever known her to be.

"Maksim is struggling with the balance of light and dark—another way, perhaps, in which you can aid him."

Hecate extended her hand. A moment later, the bare skin around Remy's collarbone and chest prickled with heat, and she looked down to find a ring of midnight blue flames sheathing her neck. The flames dissipated and left behind a single silver chain.

Remy was not sure how to react. She brought her hands to the chain and pressed the cool metal between her fingers, looking up at Hecate with wide eyes.

"So that you can put the key where it belongs again," she said nonchalantly. "Remy, I have seen the way it protects you. I have seen the way you care for it, the way you clutch it as though it is your only lifeline in times of distress. A normal mortal could not have the power to do as you have; you have proven yourself to be a warrior, one that is filled with light, and if this key cannot be placed around your neck, it is not worthy to be held by anyone else."

"You overestimate me," she said, pursing her lips.

"No." Hecate shook her head and placed a hand in the centre of Remy's chest. "I believe in you. I see you for what you are, even if you do not see it in yourself yet."

A heavy silence fell upon the three of them. Remy took a deep, ragged breath and unclasped the chain from her neck. Both of the witches eyed her wearily, as though they half-expected her to throw it on the floor and walk away from it all. Remy wondered if there was ever a time when she might have done that. Now, though, she strung the key back on its chain through the bow and let it fall onto her chest as she fastened it back around her neck.

"Okay," she said, trying to sound light-hearted. "But one of you better think of a good excuse to tell my mother if I end up wrapped up in all of this again. She wasn't very happy with my disappearance last time I was here."

Hecate ignored this. "There is something else. Something I have to offer you."

"Great," grimaced Remy. "It's not a gun or a sword, is it?"

"It is magic. Witchcraft. I could make you a witch, if that is what you pleased. Once the war is over, there is no reason why I could not give you everything you desire."

Remy opened her mouth to respond, but Hilda beat her to it. It seemed her reticence had worn off. "Absolutely not. You cannot bribe her to fight Ackmard this way. It is not right."

"I thought you knew me better than that, dear Hilda." Hecate was offended, and paced back up the steps with one hand lifting her robes so she wouldn't trip. Beneath, Remy saw that her leg was tattooed with symbols and runes much like the ones on the key and wished she knew what they meant. "This is not a bribe. I am merely being practical. Ackmard will not wait to strike again, meaning that Remy will not have time to undergo the ceremony before the next battle. It will be better if our current problems are solved first. My offer will still stand, even if you choose not to face the Dark Ones."

"You cannot just turn a mortal into a witch. It is unheard of." Hilda's eyes had turned to stone, and Remy was reminded of how cold she had been when they had first met. After all of this time, not much had changed. It was no surprise that two of her children had turned out as they had, and the other hostile to those who he did not care about.

Hecate let out a laugh, a strange, melodic sound that reminded Remy of wind chimes. "How do you think our kind were created? Magic has never been a given; it has always been a gift. There is no reason why Remy should not receive the same gift you and your people have. The necklace is already changing her. It is only a matter of time..."

"It is not practical. She would not be able to adjust—"

"Enough!" Remy cut in, her voice louder than she had intended. She raised her head, looking directly at Hecate for perhaps the first time. Her eyes stung and she resisted the urge to blink and avert her gaze. "You could do that for me?"

Nodding, Hecate pointed to the tapestry. In the new light of the raised platform, with the corner of her mouth turned upwards in pride and power, she was more a goddess than ever. "Look at the first picture on the tapestry. See for yourself, young one."

Remy obeyed, swaying reluctantly towards the beginning of the tapestry. It spanned across the entire back wall, but it did not take long for her to find the image she had been looking for. It was a group of people—warlocks and witches—and one of them was Hecate, wearing the same robes as she was now and looking no older, no different. They had their hands outstretched in unity, fingers splayed as their palms created walls of silvers, golds, greens, reds. And then there were the others, the people who looked just like Remy did, surrounded by a cloudy grey world that bled into the material of the tapestry as though it was infectious. Only, in the next picture, it had disappeared, and the people had brighter hair, brighter eyes. Beneath were words written in Refilyn's language. It didn't matter that Remy couldn't translate them, for Hilda spoke them clearly enough from behind her.

"And so, the Magic Ones were born, and with them, Refilyn was brought to life. It is true, then. We were born from mortals."

"That is an oversimplified version, of course," Hecate added. "The ceremony was far more complicated. Still, I could give you this gift, Remy. You could live for an eternity with the man you love, live—"

"How do you know about him?" She snapped her head around, her cheeks flushing. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't want me as I am. Don't try to convince me by using him against me."

"He thinks that he cannot have you as you are. He always wanted you. More than that, he needs you." Everything about Hecate was gentle and soft. Remy wondered if she had ever been a mother, for she would have been a good one. Still, something in Remy shifted and she straightened up, gaining a composure she did not know she still had.

"I'll think about it. Thank you."

"Remy—" Hilda interjected disapprovingly, but soon closed her mouth as both Remy and Hecate glared at her.

"I believe you are needed at Central Hall, Hilda. My guardians will lead you to the portal."

A young—or seemingly young, though Remy supposed she was not—woman with lilac hair stepped out of the shadows, away from the other three guards, and nodded towards a passage Remy had not noticed before.

"I will be in contact. Just remember that I am leaving you to your own devices because I know that you are capable of winning the war." It was clear she was talking to Remy now. "There is nobody that I entrust more with the key. Take care of it for me, young one."

"I'll try."

As they were lead out and into a narrow passage, Hecate and Hilda exchanged a look, one that Remy could not decipher. There seemed to be much that went unspoken between the two of them, though perhaps it was better that way; Hilda was much easier to tolerate when she was being quiet.

The passage was shorter than Remy had expected, and ended in a lacy white curtain that looked completely out of place against brown rock. The guardian pulled it back to reveal a swirling portal identical to Hecate's eyes. Hilda nudged Remy forward before she had a chance to hesitate.

"Go on. I have places to be, you know," she muttered in her ear.

Remy rolled her eyes and then took her last step before the world dissolved into incomprehensible colours. It felt different this time—easier, and much quicker. Remy remained upright and arrived in the middle of Astracia still on her feet. Hilda emerged a second later, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Well, it was nice not to have landed on my backside this time."

"Hide your necklace," she ordered without any hint of amusement. "Nobody can know you have it, and nobody can know why you were here."

Remy did as told, tucking the key into her shirt and adjusting her jacket quickly. She no longer needed it—Astracia was just as humid as she remembered it to be, and she could feel the weight of the air pressing on her; that, and the last few things Hecate had said to her. She had not time to ponder them now.

She looked around her, taking in the familiar fountain where water flowed soundlessly and glimmered in the sun, and the glass buildings that stole pieces of pink sky and claimed them for their own. Nothing had changed—well, nothing but the fact that everyone she saw was dressed in red.

A sudden wave of nerves rolled over her and centred itself in the pit of her stomach. She was closer to Maksim than she had been since she'd left, and it occurred to her now that she was completely out in the open. He could bump into her. What would he say?

"Remy?"

She almost jumped out of her skin, turning quickly and trying to ignore the disappointment she felt when she found Tykon towering over her. Hilda huffed from behind her, most likely irritated by the fact she had already been spotted.

"Tykon." She smiled, gathering him into a hug. His blue hair was muted against the red he was wearing and had not been styled as it usually was, instead falling loosely around his face. As she felt his arms surround her reluctantly, she felt that something was different about him. His arms were too tense around her shoulders, his torso too hard. 

Pulling back, she scrutinised him properly. His lips were downturned, his eyes watery and his face pale and drawn. 

"I did not know you were coming today. I am glad you did, though. It is nice to see you again," he said in a way that sounded forced. Tykon had never had to force politeness before.

"Yes," Hilda said, stepping in front of Remy quickly. "I hope you don't mind, Tykon, but I thought you would like her here. If it is a problem, she can go straight home."

Remy arched an eyebrow, puzzled, and Hilda flashed a glare at her just quickly enough that Remy noticed. She sighed, feeling a panic begin to bubble. Everything felt wrong. Being here, standing out in the midst of a sea of red, felt wrong. The way that Tykon looked at her felt wrong.

"No. Stay." Tykon gave a small smile that Remy returned as well as she could. "I would like you to stay."

I can't stay, she tried to say. I have to go home. I don't belong here anymore.

Perhaps it was the sadness in Tykon's eyes, or perhaps it was the feeling of the sun beating down on her face, or perhaps it was the conversation she had just had with Hecate, but the words would not come, and she was dragged back into Central Hall, and back into the world she could not help but get lost in.

[AN: guys this is over 4000 words I hope it makes up for the fact that I'm terrible at updating, and I hope you don't get bored halfway through haha.]