Fulcrum

[El Nuevo Diestro]

The conclave had just about wound down when the presence made itself known. It was a polite tug, the equivalent of a rap on the door. Those present looked at each other, surprised. Who would disturb them now?

They soon found out. Loosening the barrier around the conclave, they peered at the indistinct form of he who had come to inquire. Seeing who it was, they lowered the barrier completely, allowing him to manifest among them fully, before once again raising it with him included. “You are recognized, O Sen Rei. We welcome you to our conclave. What brings an honored Old One?”

“Saúdos. Teño preguntas, e non moito tempo. Por fin o raparigo escolleu a Adivíñaa?”

At those words, a distinct discomfort descended upon the present Diestros. A few were nonplussed, but several knitted their brows, and others looked about as if wishing they had not heard, or shuffled in place. Perhaps two or three fervent monarchists frowned openly despite who O Sen Rei was. Finally, a faction leader spoke up. “With all due deference, Old One, it would be best if you could use Castilian to speak, as we all are?”

“Se me recordo correctamente, eu construín o noso castelo, pero non foi en Castela. Eu llo que falo, e vós sabedes o meu nome.”

“Yes, O Sen Rei, we know where our castle is built, and we know your name. Still, that is not a battle you will win now by sowing division or continuing in a way in which not all will be able to follow well, or at all.”

“Que magoa. Pero son quen eu son, e nada mais.” The flat refusal was obvious to even those who could not follow the words in that language, and the level of discomfort, even annoyance or anger, rose. None, however, spoke up further to the Old One. “Agora, dá me respostas á miña preguntas. Escollina, ou non?”

The tone of the reply was resigned. “Yes, Old One. It does appear he has chosen to be with the Seer.”

“Bo, esperaba a iso. Xa que esta cumprido, é necesario asegurar o seguinte. Podemos metela no circulo do, si?”

A pregnant hush descended on the assembled Diestros as the minds behind the souls worked furiously. While those not fully able to follow worked furiously to keep up, or looked about for an ally to lend aid, those fluent in O Sen Rei’s chosen tongue worked to get past surprise and fully realize the implications.

“Is….is it not too soon? Things are, well, volatile. And uncertain. It might be best if a step like that with her were delayed perhaps? For now, Old One?”

“Apuñalando con resolución cando as cousas están incertas é bo método a chegar ao corazón. E non sodes preocupes, non estou só nisto. Estas son as palabras de nós. Dos vellos.”

“We...ah...understand, O Sen Rei. We will discuss this, then, and…”

“Non hai moito tempo.”

“Right…of course. We will discuss but briefly, then, and then speak with the boy about this. He will have reservations, and we do have limited ability to coerce in these particular matters.”

“Fagades caso a eles, claro, pero nós cremos nisto. O necesita fixar ao que dixemos.”

“Of course, Old One. With the right phrasing, it shouldn’t be altogether difficult to get them to take this step towards each other….”

[Mercy Strike]

Aura settled in the chair and tried to look attentive.

Normally that wasn't much of a problem. He was, well, Sunstorm. While she didn't know exactly what he did, it was obviously very important and she just happened to be one little part of it. He never failed to impress the socks off her, what with the pyrotechnical glow and how tall and alien graceful he was and the fact that she could just smell the ozone charging around him all the time. She'd decided the first time she'd met him that it was possibly the sexiest smell ever, all that repressed power roiling around in any closed room that he happened to be in.

Not that Aura would ever admit it, of course. The Kheldian merge was some sort of cross between a homeroom teacher and Mercy's boss so she kept her thoughts strictly to herself. She usually spent these sessions in rapt contemplation of just how wonderful he was while Mercy talked, especially in the padded spandex that molded just about everywhere. Her contributions usually consisted of a lot of squeaking whenever he turned his radiating attention to her specifically.

This time though, she had more important problems than listening to yet another lecture about her and Mercy's progress on learning to merge.... well, their lack of progress for the most part. She tried to plaster something on her face that would serve and tried to keep one ear open for any question where she'd have to do something more than nod in reply.

How could Bethany just say that? Out loud and everything? She was not a hypocrite. So what if she'd repeated a rumor that turned out not to be true? Lots of people did it and it wasn't her fault that Bethany got talked about that way. Everybody knew she'd do anybody - look at the way her and Luke flaunted it. And it certainly wasn't her fault that other people had said she'd been doing Diego too. She'd just repeated it - okay, maybe at entirely the wrong time but she'd been mad. Nobody could keep their temper when they were mad.

And it wasn't like she'd been trying to get Diego mad at Bethany over it either or anything, not really. She'd just wanted to hurt him, that's all, and if that was mean and petty and small, she'd worked on making it right again. Why, if Bethany hadn't been so full of herself and flaunting all the stuff she did, she'd never have been able to say anything at all! So where did she get off with that stuff last night? As if Aura was wandering around filling Diego's ear with how terrible Bethany was. As if she was so special that that was the only thing Aura had to talk about.

Sunstorm said something on a rising note and Aura nodded furiously. She mumbled something about having practiced her exercises really hard, honest.

And she certainly hadn't accused Bethany of trying to get between Joni and Diego. She hadn't. Had she? Aura tried to remember, shying away from the other memories, the stricken look in Diego's eyes as they'd sprung apart. No, she was pretty sure she hadn't although she wasn't truly and completely sure. Bethany had been so convinced then that Aura had been trying to bust up her friendship and she hadn't been. She hadn't even thought about it! She'd just wanted Diego to know how much it hurt, that he'd do... well, that.

Although why it had been such a big thing then when she hadn't been anything but his adivina and it was Joni who should have been upset, only Joni hadn't actually known what was being said in the locker room because nobody would say anything mean to Joni when she'd been walking around with that smile on her face all the time. And she had apologised until she was blue in the face for repeating the rumor which had turned out not to be true anyways. So it really made no sense that Bethany was still all prickly about it, as if Aura had done something wrong. It's not like it had anything to do with Bethany anyways.

She squirmed in her seat though, telling herself fiercely not to feel guilty. The argument had been horrible, with Bethany going all flame-y and Diego trying so hard not to look at either of them and Luke standing there and then Bethany had run away and Aura didn't want to feel responsible, not even a little bit for that. That had been Bethany's bad decisions and she'd hurt Brandon too before she'd disappeared instead of staying and working on fixing the things she'd messed up. And so what if she'd come back and Diego was with Aura now, instead of Joni? It wasn't like that. Bethany could think whatever ugly little things she wanted but it hadn't been like that.

Did she have any idea how much it hurt sometimes when she looked at Diego and she didn't even know who was looking back - or why? Or that somewhere deep inside she couldn't help but wonder if all the amazing, whispered things he said were lies and Aura had no way of knowing? And she'd just stood there with her new blonde spikey punk haircut, getting all sneer-y about it and then just flat out saying she didn't care anything about Aura at all except that to make sure she understood that she had to stay out of the way of Bethany's friendship with Diego. As if the world had just stopped, as if Aura cared about what Bethany wanted, because of course Bethany was the most important thing.

It just wasn't fair. It was finally going the way it was supposed to; so fragile and perfectly right, just like a fairytale if she just refused to worry about the rest of it and what right did Bethany have to just show up and be mean and terrible and ugly about it? She had no right at all. Aura clenched her fists and fiercely resented the intrusion that she hadn't asked for.

--------------------

Sunstorm narrowed his eyes, more alarmed than he cared to admit. The attention of his charge was elsewhere, had been elsewhere the entire time which wasn't exactly unusual but the power currently bleeding under human skin was new. Surprisingly, alarmingly new. Aura King was glowing in random lines, faint but unmistakable and even as he watched, collected light dripped from one hand to splash harmlessly on the carpet.

No coherency, but the ease of the pulse told him this wasn't the first time.

Human bodies weren't built for power leakage. Sunstorm cleared this throat.

"Aura?"

For a seond he wasn't sure he'd been heard. The girl's eyes were still turned inward, a vaguely disgruntled look on her heart-shaped face. But when she snapped her attention forward and smiled brightly, it was to flash him an expression that wouldn't have fooled anyone who'd ever had to deal with a teenager. "I'm sorry, gosh! I zoned out there for a second. What was the question?"

Sunstorm revised himself, watching as the glow subsumed into her skin as if it had never been. "I think you've been doing a great job so far. Can you channel Mercy for me now though? I just have a few things for her."

He wasn't sure what to think when Aura shook her head. "Wow, I'm sorry Mr. Sunstorm. That's really tough, you have no idea and it gives me the most amazing headache afterwards. I'll just get out of the way and let you talk to her directly."

That was something he hadn't expected and he hesitated. Aura seemed to take that as acceptance though, bouncing to her feet, still with that smile on her face. The flashover of change was a long heartbeat as one became the other but only the faintest flicker of true connection was apparent to his senses. He could almost see the grateful escape of the human as the kheldian form built itself out of concentric waves of light. Never lost, never to be forgotten.

"You rang, master?"

He just stared at her. Anger rose unbidden and it beat against the walls. There was no apology forthcoming but the color of her form did damp a little, which was probably about as much as he was going to get. He hadn't made liasion by being distracted by non-essentials and while technically he was the ranking form in this room, some things were relative.

"Have you learned anything new?"

Her tail lashed, a slight giveaway. "No," was the reply. "Shimmer's got nothing, I have nothing. There've been... problems."

"Do your problems have anything to do with power channels in your host?" The accusation was hostile, as he meant it to be.

The light ramped up, then cooled. "Don't go there because you do not want that argument from me. Aura's been... difficult lately. There've been problems. I'm doing the best I can."

"Your best isn't good enough. She's bleeding hard. Do you want her to go into arrest?"

"It's not like I have much to say about it." The frustrated snarl echoed in two frequencies, causing interference along his auditory nerves. "You try controlling a feedback loop. I'm doing the best I can."

"Can't you block it?" The question slipped out before he thought about the implications. Mercy just waited, disgust coloring the air a pale orange. "You can't block it."

"I not only can't block it, I can't even brake it."

"True merge?" Sunstorm accepted the loss instantly.

"Not if I can help it - and so far, I can. She's a powerful psychic, the best we could find, remember? But she's only sixteen and what she knows about Kheld merges, she got from reading comics, we've both made sure of that. But this damned boy she's messed up with...." The light shifted in a rapid pulse, agitation and something else. "...she's barriered and still pulling power through no matter what I do. The resonance is like nothing I've ever felt before. Nothing."

"She'll arrest."

"Possibly. Probably, maybe. I'm trying to work on it."

Duality moved through his blood, alien and human priorities subsumed into a greater, better whole. "Abort the mission. Get out. We can do this another way."

"No. We're close, I can feel it. If that last recon hadn't fallen into a gravity well and imploded... Aura's precognition was on the money, we just didn't look far enough. We won't make that mistake again." The recognition was bittersweet. They had been so close and they might not get that chance again for months. So much careful positioning, blown in an instant of cascading consequences.

He shook his head, making the decision. "Get out, Merciful. We can find you another, less dangerous host." The implication hung in the air that the next one wouldn't be as suitable but that was always the trade off. And an uncontrolled feedback loop? He didn't even want to think about it. The fact that the host was still walking around was testiment to power balancing on a level he wasn't even sure he would want to attempt.

"No. This is my call and this host can get us into the right place, at the right time, faster than anything else we can possibly set up. It's not a lost cause yet. I just need a little more time." The tone was grim enough, wavering on several levels of meaning. "If I can manufacture a break in her feelings for the boy, I can get us more breathing space. Just give me a little longer."

"Your call," he finally agreed reluctantly. It was. Light flashed in apology and acknowledgement, and he took a deep breath. "When should I bring you in again?"

"I'll let you know when I have anything new. Aura might start wondering if we're in here every couple of days." The humor was dry. "She's doing her best to not pay any attention to anything I do, but that only goes so far."

"As you wish."

There wasn't anything else to say. Mercy Strike wavered in the air, a sketchy bow of sorts.

Sunstorm waited for the human to re-emerge so he could send her on her way. He had a lot to think about.

And contingency plans would need to be made in case of the worst.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

“As above, so below.”

“As above, so below,” Diego echoed his instructor, standing in the grey plain that is his training ground for the day.

“The Lord our God created the Earth and the Heavens. The stars were placed in the great circle of sky and set to motion as He ordained; to glimpse the signs behind their travels is to glimpse an aspect of a facet of God’s will.”

Diego nodded, silent as the lesson began in earnest. He stood in a small circle with a radius of one step; the Minor Circle. It intersected a larger circle, and its radius was the distance from his guard to the tip of his sword; the Major Circle. Combat range. Another Minor Circle intersected the Major directly across from him, representing the inevitable opponent.

“Thus the stars hold power beyond themselves, because God’s will is creation; it is the universe. Their movements relative to us and each other are ordained and described in mathematics, in lines and curves, in angles and shapes.”

Other patterns and lines were inscribed inside the Major Circle. Their nature was esoteric, but even the most uninitiated could sense, if not see, there was purpose in the inscriptions, the mathematically precise shapes and angles.

“But there is more in this universe than stars that can perform God’s will. Man, created in His image, can also do so. And because he is in His image man can learn and apply the mathematics inherent in His hand, following its dictates.”

Diego began to move now, slow and methodical. This was new, and the full equations behind the designs and his movements among them still above his level. Still, sometimes rote memorization could suffice, and it did here.

“Or, of course, forging them. We are not helpless. Set the will of God in your soul, and wield the mathematics. Create the shapes, the patterns. Not even the heavens in the circle of the sky can deny the will of God if properly enacted by you within the Major Circle. From below, to above.”

“From below, to above. “ Diego again echoed the Diestro who was his instructor, continuing the movements, committing them ever deeper into memory.

“Yes, good. Now, guiding combat this way, fating your victory, is the epitome of the True Art and Skill. Of those who can achieve it, Colibrí is acknowledged as the greatest, and he is no mean mathematician. This, of course, is many many years beyond you yet, assuming you posses the talent and remaining life-span. But there are some immediately relevant applications.”

“Ah, what are those, Diestro?”

“Rituals of the Order, of course. For example, that of Alignment.”

“Alignment?”

“Yes. It has been, in fact, a common one with Diestros who have truly bonded to a Seer, though that isn’t technically any kind of requisite. In essence, it synchronizes the stars which govern you and another, bringing you closer, strengthening bonds, tying fates.”

“T-truly? It will do that?”

“Its hardly a be-all-end-all. It works much better at improving what is than at combating it. But yes, young knight, truly.”

**************************************

The lesson continued for a while yet, but eventually it ended, and Diego took off his mask and went about his activities. On the grey plain, a figure manifested next to the one who had been the instructor.

“I presume things went well?”

“Not the most subtle case of implanting a suggestion, but in this case, why be cryptic?”

“As you say. Especially with the Old Ones so eager to tie them closer. Aligning them in his Major Circle will certainly do the job.”

“Let us hope so.”

“No need for negativity. Our wishes feed into their own current desire for closeness. What could possibly work against us in this?”

Having no other answer, the instructor could only shrug.

[Mercy Strike]

I love my mom. I do. But she drives me nuts.

"Aura, please. I know you might think I don't realise these things, but I'm not unaware." This from the woman who didn't notice when I wore the same sweater for three weeks running. It's all I can do not to roll my eyes. "Your meditations aren't something you can just... just ignore. You need to focus on what's truly important here."

I hate it when she flutters at me. Problem is, I'm wedged on the opposite side of the fold out card table which is all that will fit in our tiny kitchen so it's not even like I can pretend I'm engrossed in something else. Even worse, she keeps moving back and forth between her chair and the counter where the needle tea is steeping and while you'd think there'd be no room for it in here, she always seems to manage. She checks the pot for the millionth time and I guess the tea is still not the right color because she clinks the chipped porcelain lid down.

"Wow, mom, would you just stop? I am focusing. I swear, I meditate every day. Well, every second day. Twice a week definitely, no matter what else is going on so really, things couldn't possibly be in any better alignment if I tried." She turns to look at me with narrowed eyes and the little bells in her ears chime with the announcement. "Could we please get back to my question? I kind of have to be somewhere soon."

As soon as it leaves my mouth, I could shoot myself. That probably isn't going to go over well. Sure enough, she sits in a swirl of caftan and the new smokey aromatherapy scent she's bathed herself in puffs out like a cloud. In the close confines of the trailer I really do have to breathe but wow, I sure wish I didn't. I suck air in through my mouth, hoping it will help.

"...and don't be in such a hurry all the time, I've warned you about trying to rush. Always rush, rush, rush, everywhere you go. Things have to flow, Aura, they have to unfold at their proper pace in order for understanding to occur, for the hidden mysteries in the mundane to be revealed." Her hands describe arabesques in the air, probably because it impresses her clients that she's Doing Something while she makes these pronouncements. Still, even for her, that was obscure. "Why, I don't even have to channel through my third eye to see how disturbed your colors are this morning. Don't you try and tell me that things are 'better'. Really, just what is that school teaching you..."

She leans forward and for a second, I think she's going to touch me. Her fingers twitch anyways so I squish back in my chair just in case. The last thing I need is to have mom pronounce me jumbled beyond belief and I end up spending the next three hours in the re-done bedroom that serves as a combination therapy and spiritual treatment center getting some sort of emergency realignment. "You can't just ignore your exercises like this. I've told you over and over again about needing to keep your energy balances flowing smoothly, what with... your situation."

And that's actually sort of funny. She still can't say Mercy even after a year of me being stuck like this. She's even stopped saying that horrible leech-demon that's feeding on your inner energies, which was what she'd settled on after about six months. Now she's just erased the whole messy problem from her world-view and stopped talking about it. And she doesn't even know a thing about Diego.

Wow. Diego. I can feel my colors turning about sixteen shades of harmonious with knowing that he's waiting for me; we'll be together just as soon as I can get out of here. If I could squoosh back any further, I would, because while I love my mom, I sure don't want her channeling that.

I mean, I'm not supposed to have a boyfriend. I'm not apparently even supposed to notice that the human race comes in two different flavors, maybe three if you count Matt, and it's been like that since, well, ever. If you ask me, I think it's because my mom doesn't want to me to ever grow up. Whenever the subject of school comes up, I always have to creatively not mention the parties and the dancing and kiss-me games and all the rest of it. I mean, I want my mom to know I'm having a good time and I'm fitting in, but there's only so much even I can talk about homework and the nature walks in the quad. Of course, those have been getting sort of interesting lately too so I might just be down to the homework.

Anyways, no boys, no kissing, no dates, no anything. It's like my mom seems to think that if I wear makeup and go out with someone, the universe is going to implode. Diego might be an utter dragon about some stuff but wow, even he doesn't pretend that I'm still stuck at twelve and horse-crazy. Well, at least not anymore.

"Yes mom, I know. I swear I meditate every other day at least." Okay, so fine. The meditating has mostly been an excuse to fantasize so that even when I do get around to straightening out my chakras, svadisthana is about the only one I can concentrate on. Also something I'm not confessing, no matter what. "Could we please get off this totally not-important subject? My inner alignment is just fine, I'm a rainbow of harmony even considering the dumb amount of homework I get and my grades are even pretty good." Well, good for me anyways, but who's she going to compare them to? My invisible siblings?

She sighs at me and I get another waft of the current experiment in scent politics. It's all I can do not to sneeze. "Aura, please pay attention. If you're not in harmony with yourself, you can't..."

"...I know, I know, balance the world's interactions at the base level, absorbing them and transmuting the energies into positive flows. I got it, mom, would you just trust me? My energies have been positively flowing just fine." If my energies were flowing any more positively, I'd be all melted like ice cream on the boardwalk which is where I hope to be very soon. "All that stuff is perfectly under control and if there's anything out of harmony in here right now, it's probably just the furnace acting up again."

She looks affronted, like I just called her professional skills into question and maybe I sort of did but my mom takes this stuff way too uber seriously sometimes. I push the tarot card on the black square of cloth across the table with my forefinger, nudging it closer. "Could we just focus on this, please? My question? That I came here to ask?"

Now, my mom doesn't do tarot readings usually. She mostly does stone therapy and healing energy sessions and holding meditation workshops on Saturday afternoons at the store. Still, just because she doesn't, doesn't mean she can't. Her deck is really old too and the pictures are very different, with lots of greens and browns and golds. The edges are dirty from years of handling.

She gives me a look that tells me we're not done with this topic yet and I'm still going to have to sit here for awhile, but finally she looks down. Progress at last. "Why this card?" She taps it, her finger covering the sun-staff that her version carries. "The Major Arcana are very strong, very sure of themselves, and Emperor is certainly not a man to trifle with. The reading is going to be charged unbearably."

I find myself nibbling my lip out of nervous habit. "Well, sure, I'm not a dumb b... I mean, I know, mom. But it kind of.. I mean, I just think it ought to be that one."

Along with every other thing I'm trying not to tell her, I don't really want to admit stuff about the dream or nightmare or whatever it is that I can't remember when I wake up. She'll freak out about my lack of control some more. And then I'll get the lecture on how to direct my unconscious lucidity and then I'll get some book or other to read, even though it's Saturday and I have other things... six foot tall, brown haired things... to do.

But all I can remember is this one stupid card and it doesn't make any sense, not without context. The worst part is that I've tried to do readings for myself and they just come up gibberish. I mean, it's not, they're not, the tarot doesn't work that way. But whatever it's trying to tell me I just can't figure it out. So my mom is, strangely enough, my only hope. Maybe she can tell me the story of what's happening so that maybe I can understand what's going on.

It occurs to me a couple of seconds later that maybe I shouldn't have said that either. My mom picks up on weirdest things. "Well, okay, it's not that big a deal but it really ought to be that card for the significator, I'm not sure why. It's like - a hunch. That came to me in a dream." That was actually pretty honest, which is great. A good honest vibe is a great place to start and I smile at her in encouragement.

She doesn't say anything but finally, finally she picks up the rest of the deck and starts shuffling. My mom puts a lot of stock in dreams which maybe is what finally got through. The tea on the counter is probably the right vibration now but I'm not going to remind her, letting go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. The sharp look in her eyes softens almost immediately as her lips move, saying the words that clear her mind for receiving. It's kind of like a prayer to not guide badly. I usually skip that part myself.

I really hate waking up in the middle of the night over and over, not knowing what my mind is trying to tell me. I'm tired of constantly needing to keep Mercy locked out, because otherwise my days are filled with argument and hard to resist logic. Diego isn't trying to use me. I won't believe it, no matter what. And even though I hate that I'm stacking up sins of omission like they're so many pancakes so me and Diego can be together, I'm not going to stop.

I love my mom. I do. But there are some things she just really doesn't need to know.

[Mercy Strike]

Even in the heart of the city, with the walls rising hundreds of feet in the air to block both enemies and sunlight, the birds always seemed to know when it was time to wake up. Religiously in the never-quite-dark, first one, then two, then the chorus started to sing; reassuring themselves perhaps that they had survived what passed for night in the city and that they were all looking forward to the coming day.

Today it hadn't been her slightly unwelcome alarm clock. She'd been sitting awake for hours.

It was unease, she decided. Prickling, unhappy, frightened unease.

She lifted the mug to her lips but the tea was stone cold and bitter, so she put it back down on the table to tighten the robe around her shoulders. She continued to stare out the window that from this angle only gave her a view of the distant wall. It was easy to imagine there was nothing else out there but the green glow, the radioactive warning that flickered and melted. Not for the first time she wondered helplessly if she just concentrated, truly tried to focus on the mesmerising canvas, if she could See what to do next. The path of things to come, the shape of a future written maybe in alien script in the energy pulses, an undiscovered form of divination unique to living in Paragon.

False, tempting hope. She hadn't had the Sight for sixteen years. Looking would only give her a headache.

She ran her hands over the patchy surface of the table, wanting to reassure herself suddenly of stability. She'd done everything she could think of, hadn't she? She'd left that long ago night, hadn't hesitated at the necessity; she'd gotten both of them out of there. Run all the way across the country with the baby a weight at her breast, crossing water over and over again to obscure the trail, casting wards behind her like flowers.

And it had worked; out of all expectation, it had worked. For fifteen years they'd been left utterly alone and she had guarded and loved and prayed to a God she didn't believe in anymore.

Nothing should have touched them here - only, something had.

It had crawled up to her daughter's window, utterly unexpected and somehow started things in motion, she was convinced of it now. Her thoughts turned in circles in the dim darkness like an unsettled dog. Was there something else she could have done, something she'd missed? Should she have insisted more, no matter the damage? The school had been a godsend then, a place to turn to for help. They'd seen this before, uncompleted bondings, human and alien learning to work together. It had been wrong but what could she have done? Should she have torn her daughter apart to remove a danger she couldn't even voice?

So she had accepted, because pain came back three times like everything else and even once might have been enough to destroy the thing she needed to save. So her daughter lived doubled now, with assurances given by the Others with light in their eyes that this was normal, this was natural, her daughter blessed by this new oversoul when she knew, knew down to the depth of bones that Fate was still trying to find a way.

Her hands curled uselessly on the cheap vinyl.

She hadn't brought them here, carved them a new life away from every comfort, every support, to see it come apart. Just a few more years, that's all they needed. They just had to make it past the day of that last, terrible prediction. Maybe she should have enlisted the oversoul... but no.

It all came down to her changeling child with messy brown curls now turning with the seasons to winter snow, the spring hazel eyes so like her father's fading irresistibly to icicle blue. Each day her daughter moved farther and farther away into something fey, closer with each hour to the warning of her name. So slowly that she hadn't realised it for what it was. Hadn't, oddly enough, wanted to see.

It was the cards today that had opened her eyes; she hadn't understood them and even if that wasn't terribly uncommon, something in it had whispered of hidden changes. The cards had been so muddled as if even they didn't know what was to come. The Three of Swords, sharp blades piercing the central heart to denote sorrow and loss, overriden next by the Four of Wands, the joyous dancers? Certainly her daughter hadn't seemed any more at ease afterwards. And maybe it had been Aura's reaction - at once eager and disappointed and a little too much of both that had her sitting here, wondering on old questions and might-have-beens, should-have-dones.

The tarot often showed what the querent already knew; warned of dangers ahead if certain paths were followed. Were the cards contradictory because Aura had asked the wrong question in her heart? Were the paths divided because everything was still in flux?

She watched the sun rise behind the glowing walls, cupping a cold cup of tea between her hands.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

I’m not going to fight. Not even a Diestro, one of The Diestros, can fight everything. Right? That’s what I’m telling myself, and I have to believe it. And if I can't fight everything, this is one thing I won’t fight against. Instead, I will fight for it. Fight to preserve it, fight to sustain it, fight to advance it.

It’s like a tide, a current, the rush of waves. There's just no way to win. They’re not going to stop no matter how much you want them to, fighting against them just makes the end come faster. So why fight at all? Ride them…surf them, do it just right and you can take them all the way to the sand. Well, sure, the best ones are probably going to drown you way before that, but if that’s all you can think of why even bother going out into the water?

So waves. A wave of heat on my skin, so it feels like I’m on fire, like I have to be glowing bright red. I can hear the rush of blood in my ears, it makes them almost tingle, but my pounding heart is louder, louder than any surf. A wave of…feeling, rushing forward and pulling back and crashing again over and over and never stopping. Who could want it to stop though? And smell and taste, sweet and salt and warm smooth flowing…

And that’s just the first kiss, the tremble of her arms around my neck, her weight in my arms. It grows from there. Oh yes it grows. Why hasn’t it been like this before? It should always be like this. It’s a force bigger than me and her or us combined. It’s pushing and she and I are just two small pieces of something so much more that we are, but it doesn’t feel wrong at all. It feels like we don’t have to worry about doing something we’re not supposed to, even if we are, even if we do, because we’re part of something more. Riding a wave, you can steer, but you can’t change the direction of the destination, if you’re going to take it all the way. So why question the direction? Why not make the most of the ride, make the most of the time on the board? The dark swirling water takes us all sooner or later.

So why not try what the Diestros taught? Align our stars…it sounds like some old song, some old story, like the ones I’ve heard all my life. Our destinies are already linked anyway, right? I can’t hurt anything…and if it can keep her with me, keep me feeling that feeling, those kisses...

I can’t do that math on my own, not for all the constellations that would need to be in the Major Circle. The Diestros can help, though, with all that, if they are willing. If I ask the right ones, put it right…I can talk them into it. Some would even be eager, I’m sure. I’ll do it. I’ll talk to them, and then…I’ll ask her. I’ll ask her under the stars, the ones that will keep us together from then on.

[Mercy Strike]

Talos is one of her favorite places.

Not that it's all that special in the grand scheme of things. There are other places that have nicer beaches or at least beaches that are less expensive to get to, being that Talos is a two train trip. There are certainly places less full of camera-wielding tourists and the high prices on hot dogs that go with them. There are definitely less crowded places.

Still, for all of that, she decides she really does like it best because even with the mask, Diego smiles when he's by the ocean.

"You ever notice how pretty the water is, when it curls up at the bottoms of things?" Aura stands precariously at the top of a jumble of rock, staring down with her hands on her knees. So far all the little tidal pools they've found haven't had much in them, but she hasn't given up hope of a discovery. "It changes color and gets all frothy."

"Ah," he replies. He's been following quietly behind, letting her choose the direction. So far her meandering path has led them away from the open beach to the tumbled strip of land that rises upwards to the broken cliff-steps. At the moment he's balanced easily with one foot on separate rocks, his arms folded as if there is all the time in the world while he watches her explore. "Sí. Is second most pretty thing here."

She looks up through the curtain of her hair and smiles. The answering quirk of his lips is warm, the antique bronze of his hair barely ruffling in the breeze from the water. If the ghosts in the mask think anything at all, they don't manifest to chide her for it, for which she reminds herself to be properly grateful. She's decided, among other things, that they can listen in all they want as long as they don't actually do anything.

"Well, I think you're pretty too. Although I guess the proper word is handsome." She tries to remember, straightening. Against the backdrop of flicker-tipped water, she shimmers suddenly in soft counterpoint. Any emotion calls forth light, tiny diamonds on her skin, and she can't look at him and not feel. "Beau. Tu es beau," she says simply. "You make my heart ache."

"Eh? I... do?"

She turns away though, shy as a deer to clamber over the next jut of stone. She's careful not to put a sneaker in any of the small crevices as she hops to the next rock.

"Of course you do. I look at you and it feels like .. well, like I'm going to break open with it." She glances back. "I really do like you."

He follows but doesn't answer; under the mask its hard to tell what his expression is. He takes a different line of attack than she does, going higher into the scree and the muscles of his legs bunch with the reach. She turns away, trying to ignore the prickle feeling. The constant awareness of proximity is new and distracting and she's not exactly sure what to make of it.

She chews her lip instead, eyeing the next jump. She doesn't want to turn an ankle because while being carried out might be sort of romantic in the storybooks, it's probably much less exciting in real life. She leaps the gap though after that small hesitation, smiling as she lands with only a small wobble. She shoots him a triumphant look. "Your turn!" she carols.

It's as much of a dare as anything else and a small smile flashes across his face. He takes it and jumps down to her; smooth, silent. His knees flex on the landing but that's all.

"Wow. So not fair," she grumbles. He makes everything look effortless. His eyes are dark in the shadow of metal as he looks down from the vantage of height, shrugging in answer.

"You ask for it," he points out dryly.

"I did," she agrees and winds her arms around his neck because now she can; relishing the closeness, uncaring that their perch is somewhat precarious. "You are a very good jumper." She really doesn't like it when he's distant; physically, emotionally. "You ever wonder if maybe you're part mountain goat, from way back?"

He stills but there's no rejection, not this time. A moment later she feels his lips brush against her hair. She rests in happy quiet, soaking up the slight heat of his skin to hoard against the cool breeze from the water.

"I no do all that training for nothing, Aura," he finally replies. An arm curves around her waist slowly, pulling her in and she sighs. She puts her head in the hollow of his shoulder. There's no sin in this, she tells herself, nothing for God to forgive. It's okay that she loves the way he smells of sun and salt. She's allowed to hug her boyfriend, even if her boyfriend is currently wearing something that probably has all his dead relatives grading her hugging performance.

"I love water," she says eventually, more to hear a voice than to have anything to say. "And the little fishies that you find by the pier. And the things that get stuck when the tide goes out. And you're right," she admits, "you probably don't have any mountain goat anywhere. If you can climb trees so well, I guess rocks aren't all that hard."

Recent memory evokes itself; fifteen feet in the air and deliciously frightened of falling, caged by the green gold leaves and the strength of his arms. His kisses with their own dazzling vertigo. She's suddenly too shy to ask if he's thinking about it too, unsure with the mask if asking him for another kiss now would be okay. She wants to though, even if she gets graded on it, and her arms tighten.

Perhaps he is. His lips grace her hair again and suddenly the world is much smaller, air a little more difficult to find. She curls a hand against his chest then, fighting the urge to stretch her fingers out to touch his collarbone, compulsively curious. She's suddenly too nervous to do more than stand still.

He takes a breath, she feels it against her cheek. "I es like you too," he says unexpectedly. "Aura." Her name is a caress in his mouth, something deeper and richer then previous. He shifts and she looks up.

The mask is gone, vanished away. Just Diego, just like that, and his eyes are still shadowed but warming fast. The difference is always startling.

His arms link in sudden tightness around her waist and for a heart-stopping moment she thinks he really is going to kiss her now that the Others are gone. She sways forward into the embrace with expectation.

"Niña, look up. What do you see?" He tilts his head and she follows his gaze. Far above in the blue, a single summer star winks down on them.

"Starlight, starbright... " she repeats immediately, the oldest rhyme she remembers. "First star I see tonight." She blinks at him then, feeling vaguely cheated. It's pretty enough but he's the one she wants to look at.

"And what is you wish?"

She doesn't even have to think. "To be with you, just like this." Color stains her cheeks at the honest admission but she doesn't take it back. It is, after all, true.

His hands settle tighter around her waist and his gaze sharpens. "Esstars can give that. Esstars is have designs. Like you project? Esscorpion chase Hunter, Hunter chase his dog, dog is chase rabbit. Is all mean something, and mean of pattern is show what can be." There is more than warmth in his eyes, an odd yearning. "I learn how to do something, Aura." Just the way he says it makes her think of secrets.

"You did? What kind of something?"

"Some can make pattern of esstars what we want." He hesitates. "To make our wish come true."

"Our wish?" The sound of the waves is far away, locked as she is in the circle of arms and the intensity of whatever he is trying to say. "You want to.. you want to be with me too?" She wonders then if it's some sort of code speak for getting to second base. Somehow she doesn't think so.

"I say over and over and esstill you no believe me. So I prove to you. Esstay with me, Adivina." The formality chases itself across his face. "I will draw esstars for us both. The great Pattern is possible to create in essmall, to put you and me in... always chase. You for me, I for you." The words are half stumbled and she's not sure exactly what he means. She pulls back, staring up in confusion. His grip instantly loosens but he doesn't let go.

"I don't understand. What pattern and what stars? Diego?"

"Is something I find out in... ah, last lessons. Is possible to bring you into Circle, into my Circle, create... join of esstars. Make luck." His frustration is palpable, she can see him trying to find english words for whatever it is he's trying to say. A stray breeze drifts hair across her mouth and his hand lifts hesitantly to brush it away. "Esstars would see us as one," he says finally.

"Wow, that sounds sort of... nice."

"More than nice. Is something I wish to do, if is something you want, too." His fingers link again around her waist, pulling her back so carefully that she knows he's waiting for her to resist. "Is no be easy, Aura. I is sure I have to convince Diestro for help with math, for draw proper shapes." His lips pull at the implied admission that this is beyond him. "But I find a way. If... if is really you wish."

She's still not sure what joining stars is. Make lucky? She decides it must be some sort of ghost magic and she thought he hated that stuff. Still, she finds herself remembering her angry, frightened words from so long ago - although not so long as that, really. A month, maybe more? So much has changed and not changed at all. It's clear enough that this is yet another kind of binding, closer and tighter than any other. And isn't that what Mercy keeps telling her will happen? Warning her about?

Her teeth bite her lower lip, indenting the flesh. She reaches out to touch the half-hidden wards bound into his hair, the faintly barbaric talismans at once smooth and sharp to her fingertips. They react, not with warning to her, but with recognition. Isn't it.... isn't it already happening? Her wards should have become his, her field fading as his asserted. Instead they have balanced.

Her to him... but this time, him to her too. Some dark corner of her whispers. Isn't that exactly what she wants?

His gaze is only a little unsure, she can see the impassioned arguments locked behind his lips. She finds herself staring at his mouth.

Isn't that exactly what she wants?

Starlight, starbright. Something teases at the edge of memory, a light far above, a sense of darkness. Her skin shivers in reaction but it's gone as fast as it came, even as her fist closes over the wards. Yes. Oh, yes. She was afraid before. She won't be afraid now.

"I should very much like the stars. To see us together."

[Mercy Strike]

The chime rings as the door to the store closes behind another customer.

She brushes hands over her arms, smoothing the hair down yet again and the silver bangles at her wrists clink together. It's an oddly loud sound in the briefly empty shop.

The drag of the few hours of sleep can be felt in the scratch behind her eyes. All day she's felt it, like a change of pressure that means there's rain around the corner. Should she close the store early today, go home? The day has been full of people looking but not too much in the way of serious interest. There are advantages to being her own boss, she's found, including creating holidays.

She runs her fingers again over her arms, because the bleached down is once more trying to rise. Static? The itch of her eyes makes it a little difficult to focus.

She takes the rag from under the counter and the spray cleaner and starts the downtime ritual of cleaning all the glass cases. The smell of lemon and chemicals is familiar and soothing. There are a lot of flat panel displays for things that shouldn't be touched so she makes a project of the area nearest the front window. She starts to buff the smudges out, wondering muzily at the positioning on a few of them.

The Emperor. The Three of Swords. The Four of Wands. The images from Aura's reading float up from the depths to rest across the surface of her mind. Obviously it's a puzzle that she's been trying to solve somewhere. A domineering man, sure and confident. Loss, heartbreak and sorrow. Joy and contentment, simple pleasures, the love of home. But why did Aura choose a Major card to underly the question? And why that one? It might have made sense if the Emperor had appeared in the spread, the instigator or the resolution. Instead, his influence seemed to show both paths.

For the first time, she regrets not asking what the question had been, even though that is not her way. Just what had her daughter wanted to know?

The hair on arms rises so sharply as to be dagger fine, as if something dangerous has just brushed against her back. The sharp scent of citrus floods the air as her finger tightens convulsively on the spray trigger.

The wrong question?

The bottle goes down on the case, the rag is discarded. She has a working deck in the little office and she moves with fumbling haste, digging it out of the drawer. Holding the silk wrapped bundle in both hands, she walks back to the main counter to lay out the square. She picks up the oversized cards and starts to shuffle. Her daughter's question wasn't, isn't hers. What does she want to know?

Everything.

"Aura," she asks out loud, firming her will.

Three cards; past, present, future. They flash down on the dark blot of cloth, spelling out their story.

Knight of Swords. Nine of Swords.

Magician, Reversed.

She finds herself clutching the edge of the counter without any memory of spilling the deck. The unfolding, living confirmation of disaster stares right back at her.

[Mercy Strike]

The swirl and scuffle pushes them into a corner where a series of lockers ends. Break time between classes; eight minutes to get new books, new papers, think up excuses for undone homework. Two minutes to charge up a flight of stairs for a fast series of kisses.

"Today?" she asks, trying not to feel the butterflies in her stomach like airplanes. He burrows into the side of her neck and she giggles with the tickle. She doesn't understand and she doesn't care to. Once a decision is made, she just wants to feel it. His excitement burns into her.

"A miña Raíña, Major Circle is no fall from tree." His hands settle firmly on her hips and she takes the opportunity to plant some almost-on-target kisses of her own. "Ah, tomorrow? My last class is no so late as yours, I can go and prepare. In the little kingdom? You and I and all the esstars in the essky."

She melts with the romance of it all. Wow. How did Joni stand it? She fists her hands in his hair and kisses him again on tiptoes.

"I'll wear something really nice." Maybe she can borrow something from Brianna.

"You is always look nice. You is always smell nice." He punctuates the words in a trail down her neck. She shivers into goosebumps. "I esspect that you..."

The words are lost in the bell. Already? She jerks her head up and yes, everybody is running for class. She squirms out from the corner, hauling her bookbag back over her shoulder. He kisses her hands then, swift as a hawk but the look in his eyes is oddly serious.

"Tomorrow, Aura?"

"Tomorrow," she promises. Tomorrow and always.

[Mercy Strike]

Her fingers tremble on the buttons, the phone number a glowing line of light on the ancient computer that serves as both cash register, solitaire partner and rolodex. Two rings and a half a third before the sound cuts off and a crisp voice answers.

"St. Joseph School."

"Good afternoon. This is Hope, Hope King. I'm Aura's mother." She whets her lips, clutching the receiver to her ear. "I'd like to speak to my daughter, please."

"Please hold." The voice is not unkind but it's not terribly welcoming either. She listens to the music. The click back is a little startling.

"I'm sorry, Ms. King, but your daughter is out of classes for the day. Would you like me to put you through to the dorms?"

"Yes, please. It's urgent that I talk with her."

"Is everything okay?" The voice does thaw a little at that, suddenly a little more human.

"It's fine, everything's fine." It's not fine at all but how would she explain? "I just... need to talk to her for a minute. Can you put me through?"

"Certainly, hold on a moment please." The voice pauses. "The transfer's a little cantankerous sometimes so if you get cut off, just dial 228 when you call back and MEG will put you right though."

"Fine, thanks."

There's a pause, then a series of clicks. Another voice answers, deeper like rocks. "Girls' Dorm."

"Hi. I'm looking for Aura King."

"The glowbug? I'm not sure... hang on."

Glowbug? There's a clatter as whoever it is puts the phone down. A door opens somewhere and there's a rush of noise, chatter. Faintly she hears anybody seen Aura? before the sound cuts off as the door likely swings closed again. She taps her fingers nervously on the counter.

The growly voice comes back on the phone a few minutes later. "Sorry." Whoever it is doesn't sound all that sorry at all. "Aura's not in her dorm and Sam says Zorro picked her up so they're probably out for awhile. Want me to leave a message?"

Zorro? Brown hair, brown eyes, a figure both clever and brave. She looks at the picture of The Knight, staring up at her from the tarot. Her fingers convulse on the twisted cord, threatening to cut off the sound. "Yes." She clears her throat and speaks up a little more firmly. "Yes, please. Tell Aura to call her mother just as soon as she gets back. Absolutely just as soon as she walks in the door."

-----

Aura hums, skipping up the stairs. The butterflies are still there, still the size of airplanes and it's starting to feel like she can fly on them without benefit of Mercy's help. Tomorrow, they'll do the Ritual and while she's hazy on the details, it sounds perfect. Just like in the fairytales, with a kiss and a promise. If Diego wants to do this, then that has to mean he's okay with the rest, right? Every day they're together, it just gets right-er. Any more right and she'd just float off. Which would be bad but still, it's a fun image.

"Hey, glowbug. Message for you." The green skinned girl pops her freckled face out of the little mini-office by the door. The scribbled piece of yellow paper has a suspicious looking stain on it. Aura tries not to touch that part.

"Oh. Thanks, Barrier!" She holds it by the corner and squints at it, trying to read as she bounces up the stairs to the second floor. Call her meringue? No, call her mom. Urgent.

Aura groans under her breath. What, another shift? This is so unfair!

Entering the dorm, she crumples the slip and tries to hit the trashcan from eight feet away. It's not even close and she has to go chase it under the battered little couch because littering is bad.

If she calls now, she'll get roped into working for sure. Petulantly she decides to wait; she'll call her mom in the morning before class.

[Mercy Strike]

"Mom, wow! Would you just ... I can't... slow down!"

Aura holds the receiver away from her head. The spate of words doesn't really let up so she gingerly puts it back to her ear.

"I can't, not today! I have to meet Di...somebody. Wow, mom. It's just.. um, Di-ana, we were going to uh, study. And stuff. After school. For this really big test." She listens, face scrunching. "Right after school? Mom, I can't, I promised, I can't possibly.... wow, okay, okay, don't have hysterics, gosh. No, I didn't say anything just then."

The sigh is deep, heartfelt and silent. Her mom is making no sense at all, something about absolutely having to come over, do not pass Go, do not collect anything, not even a sweater. She interrupts eventually, deciding that compliance is the better part of valor. "Okay, okay, fine, I'll stop by the trailer, all right? After school, no problem. Right, mom. Right after my last class, I swear. Yes, for sure. No, I won't forget. Bye. Yes, I will. No, I promise. Bye, already."

She hangs up and puts her head against the wall. A moment later she bangs it a few times.

"My mom. Drives me. Nuts."

-----

She can't catch up to him. She has his schedule taped to the back of her eyeballs but there's a fight by the gym doors and by the time she gets past, he's already in class. She tries for the lunch period, darting through the cafeteria crowds but he's not there, she searches the room twice. Maybe he's already gone to the park? Maybe he skipped his last period.

She agonises for what feels like forever but there's nothing she can do. Her comm is broken from the last time she dropped it in the bathroom sink and she hasn't gotten around to confessing it won't work with all the water in its little inner workings. She decides she'll leave a message with MEG; the next time he checks into the comm system her big computer friend can let him know she's going to be a little late.

[El Nuevo Diestro]

He doesn't even realize it at first. He's too busy contemplating the necessary steps, the placement of proper footwork on the proper line, shape, pattern. It always comes down to patterns. But this time, this time the pattern will be right, will be the one he wants it most to be. The immaculately drawn Magic Circle, with its intersections of Major and Minor, keep drawing his eye, pulling at him. If he stares too long, it feels like he could fall in, amidst the symbolic stars and fall forever....

Then he looks up at the sun, furrows his brow. She's late; sunset will be any minute. He shakes his head. Of course she is. Something always happens, always comes up, always distracts. But today is for them, today and ever onward. She'll be there. He checks the comm and sure enough, a message comes, her voice chirping brightly if somewhat frantically that she may not be quite on time. He shrugs and waits in the lee of the large stone in the park.

As the first dusting of stars appears in the sky he waits still. He checks the comm again; nothing. Why isn't she here yet? he thinks. She should be here. Should have been here.

The moon begins to rise, slow and stately, cold and distant for all its brightness. He waits. She promised. She wants to be with me. She does. She'll be here.

The full panoply of the night sky shines down on him, on the circles. Constellations both evident and obscured by city lights, man's artificial answer to the glittering gems above, present themselves to those who would see. The moon is high now, but still uncaring. An ache begins inside him, mind working at empty reassurances, all of them ringing hollow. Something happened. Something had to. Why hasn't she commed? Why hasn't she called? Something had to have happened. But why isn't she here? She has to come, she said yes, she promised, she has to, she has to...

Finally the moon reaches its zenith, queen of all she surveys. Watching as a lone, anguished figure stands. He had cried when the news of his family had first reached him in the hospital room where he had been recovering from pneumonia. He had cried when the Mask had welded itself to him and his soul had been shattered and pieced back together by all the King's men. He had cried not a single tear since. Till now, as one razor-sharp thought cuts through him, into him. She isn't coming.

There is a flash of light reflecting from old, old steel as it hacks downward over and over, chopping into lines rendered carefully, lovingly. Tears fly haphazardly at the frenzied movements. In a final stomp of magic boots and a cry of despair, the lone figure is gone. Only the moon sees him.

[Mercy Strike]

"Mom, I'm here!"

The door bangs behind her as she bounces into the living space. It's not actually a living room since her mom has it pretty much cleared of everything but oversized pillows.

She's wearing a borrowed dress since she doesn't own anything nice enough of her own; pale green like new spring leaves, a sprinkling pattern of cut outs plays peek-a-boo over her shoulders. She just had time to change after class, scrambling to catch the bus to Kings and the trailer park. The next one is in twenty minutes going back the other way so she won't even be all that amazingly late if she can just get her mom to get to the point of whatever has her all freaked out. One of her clients must be on the cusp or something.

"Mom?"

"Aura Sunshine King."

Today her mom is wearing a head scarf that's a really pretty sea-green and blue, ocean colors against the waves of blonde hair. California tall and perfect, she's always kind of thought her mom resembled Aphrodite in that clam shell picture; albeit a goddess with a standing Friday appointment at the tanning salon in the mall three blocks over. The flowing cream linen caftan even sort of completes the image.

Today however she looks a lot more like a pale, vengeful Kali, stalking from the kitchen area.

"M... mom?"

I called the school yesterday. Three times." Aura opens her mouth but doesn't have a chance to say anything. "Somebody named 'Zorro' picked you up and you just absolutely couldn't be found."

Oops.

She struggles to control her expression, not sure exactly what's on her face but it can't be good. Calm, cool, collected. Her mom can't possibly know anything.

"And you didn't call me back until this morning."

She thinks frantically, telling herself not to step back. Just what is her mom trying to say? Bad enough that she has a boyfriend she's not technically allowed to have but it's not like she was out all night with him! Still, she'd better come up with something, fast.

"Um. Zorro. Oh! Wow, sorry. Boy, I haven't heard that name in a while. It's just a silly nickname for Di..Diana, because she has this thing for um, masks." She plasters a bright smile on her face, willing her mom to buy it. "I told you, we've been studying awful hard for this test all week."

She doesn't want to. She doesn't. But she has to take a step back then in an aborted movement of fright. Her mom's expression is terrible, all twisted up. She's never, ever seen her look that way before.

"Don't. Lie. To me." Her mom holds something up, a brown and gold rectangle. It's a tarot card and as soon as she sees the picture, her betraying breath stops. "Who is this?"

Aura runs the tip of her tongue over her lips. "The Kn..Kn..Knight of Swords?" It doesn't work.

"Who is this, Aura? What's his name?"

Her hands are shaking so bad she has to wrap the fingers of one around the wrist of the other. "D..Diego."

"Zorro?"

"B..because he's sp..spanish. And has sw...swords." She has never hated the stutter more than she hates it now. She wants to be strong. She is strong. It's really none of her mom's business, absolutely none of her business. But she can't look at her mom's face, only stare mutely at the card. She firms her will though. "He's my n... novio." Let her mom chew on that.

Except it doesn't seem to matter. "Not anymore he's not. You're not going to see him. Ever again, Aura."

"Mom, no!"

"I've told you and I've told you and I've told you a thousand times Aura, no boys, no dating, no anything!" Her mother almost seems twice her size, frazzled and gold and blue. "You are going to march yourself right back to that school and you're going to tell this Zorro boy that you are much too young, much too young for... for anything, that it was all some silly... that you weren't thinking." The voice is implacable, but it's her mom, her mom isn't like this, not ever before has she spoken in that tone of voice. "And starting tomorrow, you're going to work in the store after school. After school, every day." The implication is until she dies.

"No!" Her mom is being utterly unreasonable, utterly draconic about this whole thing. "You can't do this to me! I am not too young, I am not a baby and I haven't been a baby in forever!" Not fair not fair not fair. "He loves me, I know he does!" She doesn't know that he does but she's too carried away to stop, stomping her foot to work up courage. "I didn't c..care what Joni said and I don't care what Mercy says and I am sure n... not going to c... care what you say! I want him and he's mine and I'm his and I am not going to march back to school and tell him anything like that at all because we're going to hitch our stars together today and be lucky forever!" She struggles to control the panic, the heart struck fear of loss. "I won't! I just won't and you can't make me."

For a gut wrenching moment, she thinks her mom is actually going to hit her. She flinches, raising her own hands.

Fingers sink into her shoulders, right to the bone and her head snaps back with the force of the shaking. Everything breaks apart into white, the hair spilling across her eyes. She's as stunned by the violence as anything else. Her mom has never touched her in anger before.

"You will! You silly fool! Don't you know what you're doing? Never, ever see him again!"

She cries out in shock, at the essential unfairness of the demand. Tell Diego what? Never to see, never to touch, never to kiss him again. She shakes her head with equal violence, negating the command with everything she is. It must be written on her face, the emphatic denial carved in the tension of her bones.

Her mother makes a sound of something that could be frustration, could be fear. The grip on her shoulders become unbearable.

For the first time, she sees what her own eyes must look like. The dark soundless rush fills her mom's face as blue eclipses to black. The expression is stark and terrible, bright as any ecstacy.

"Then See what's coming."

There are pictures, a cascading gestalt. Vision not her own floods her eyes.

Love. Joy like flowers and and yes, and yes. Diego with all the complications laid quiet. Stars, a darkness that is comfort. Children. An ocean, a sand castle, a flash of gold.

It whirls away like a tide. A maelstrom because there is sudden, aching absence, and still there is Diego, a church. There is cold and gray, a haze of rain. What is wrong? Something is horribly wrong. No no no. Diego should never cry, his face should never look like that.

Time plunges, a waterfall of pain. Twisted, angry, corrupt, closed. The mask dominates. She understands that he never takes it off.

The world spins on, sweet words, a murmuring swell, a rise to power. Only power. Encompassing power, amassed to fill a void. Ill thoughts, ill words. Ill deeds, oh, so many ill deeds. There is darkness, without comfort. Escalation, a fight. War.

Death. Many many manymanymanyma

Dimly she feels her mother still shaking her. She is rag doll limp.

"Never see him again, Aura." Each word is a punctuation mark, scrambling through her brain. "Ever. You're the catalyst."

But she has to tell him. She has to go to the Ritual and tell him what's coming, tell him to lose the mask somehow, some impossible way. It's all their fault, those ghosts, it's all always their fault with everything they want and all the arguing and the horrible sneaking lies they tell, she'll tell him and they'll figure it out, there has to be a way to stop it. She won't let him turn out like that, all... all blasted and destroyed and hateful and ugly. Not Diego, not her novio, oh no no no, she has to tell him right now.

It's still on her face, it has to be. Her mother makes a sound then, tight. Final. Says something she can't hear for the panic in her ears, she has to go. She pulls against the prisoning grip, trying to turn.

"....sending you to your grandmother. Tonight."