After a decade of superheroics, KATE MORGAN finds herself in control
of strange and eldritch forces beyond all mortal ken -- and that
includes her own! Thus begins the

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# NUMBER 5 - "THIS DOOM MY PROUD HEART BREAK" #
# ------- [8F-218] ------------ [PW-62] ------- #

-------------- HOUSE MORGANA --------------------

Kate Morgan (SHIMMER), age 30. She/her.
The Queen of Cups. The ghost who never died. The darkness, reflected in light.

Pilar "Pill" Garcia, age 34. She/her.
Kate's protector. The collector. The knower. The laughter in the dark.

Bassina Bootblack, age 28. She/her.
The Knight of Cups. The red shield: the gold chalice. The doomed heart.

Melody Mapp (DARKHORSE), age 21. She/her.
Simon's lover. Kate's friend. The runner. The tower, reversed; the
pale rider, reversed.

Claire Belden (RAINSHADE), age 31. She/her.
Kate's enemy. Kate's friend. The light, reflected in darkness. The one
who borrows. The weaver of webs.

Cembalo, a kitten. She/her.
Kate's cat. The vicious teeth. The curled tail. The black in the night.

Kumari Starshell (CASCADE), age 30. She/her.
Queen of Lemuria. The storm at sea. The brave sword, the subtle knife.
Once Melody's enemy, and Claire's spy.

Terak Torvo, age 24. He/him.
King of Lemuria. The tepid pool. The prisoner. The guileless, beset by
intrigues. Once Melody's lover.

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

Kumari slumps darkly in the seaside throne and inhales deeply through
steepled fingers. "I do not like what I am hearing, friend Melody."

Her husband reaches for her hand in a gesture of comfort performed
with a studied wariness. She slaps him away. He glances sheepishly at
Melody.

"Only my king's regard for you keeps your head on its shoulders.
But know that my affection for my husband has limits."

"I'm sure it does," says Melody. "I'm not your enemy, Kumari."

"No?" says the queen. "You come to my kingdom in troubled times,
deceitful of purpose. You bring a pretender."

"She doesn't want your crown."

"No, she's brought one of her own. She makes my shield into her
knight, blessed with the magic of old Lemuria."

"That wasn't on purpose! That's magic destiny stuff."

"You said yourself she wants to sit upon the seaside throne."

"Temporarily," stressed Melody, exhausted. "Not to take it from
you! She sits in the chair and she'll remember whatever the original
queen knew so we can figure out what big bad we have to put the
mystical whammy on."

"And if she remembers that the throne is hers? It won't be on
purpose; it will be magical destiny stuff. Tell me, what comfort shall
that be to me and my house?"

Melody doesn't have an answer for that. "Look, I came here to warn
you. Kate sent me to warn you."

"And what shall I do with this warning?"

"I don't know," says Melody. "You're the queen! You have to figure
that out. But those are your people. You can't just butcher them."

"You think I don't know that?" says Kumari. "I answer their every
insult with fresh kindness, and they take it as weakness. And when
instead I stand firm, they call it tyranny. And you think I do not
know that I teeter at a precipice? Child, I think of little else.

"Yes, they are my people. But Kate Morgan is not."

"She is not your enemy. Neither am I." She threatens with a pause.
"Not yet, anyway. Kate is a victim here. She's one of those folks that
gets chosen by the mob against her will; she puts up a fuss, they're
gonna turn on her. You're really going to kill someone like that? An
innocent?"

Kumari is wide-eyed in disbelief. "Of course I would. How is that
even a question? Are you that naive?" She gives a sideways glance to
Terry. "And this was my great rival for your heart? How
disappointing."

()

Melody should be back by now, Kate thinks. She's not sure precisely
how much time has elapsed. As the noisy, angry throng behind her has
made its way toward the palace, pushing Kate and her hover-wagon ever
forward, time has simultaneously slowed and quickened, slowed in her
sickening belly and quickened in her desperate pulse. But it's
definitely been long enough for Melody to have warned Kumari and
returned to her side.

She tries to push it out of her mind, but then Pill says, "Melody
should be back by now, shouldn't she?"

"Yeah."

Pill seems a little worried, which Kate finds fascinating. Pill has
been so steady through this whole thing so far, has remained steely
and calm and plucky despite the dreams that aren't dreams, worms that
aren't worms, and shadows that aren't shadows. But Kate gets that, she
supposes. That kind of stuff, that's Pill's world, just like Kate's
world was capes and tights.

Supervillains and death traps, problems you can solve by punching
them: after ten years in the profession, that kind of thing is just
another day at the office for Kate. She doesn't crack under that
pressure, doesn't bat an eye at the gaudy costumes and ray-guns, just
like Pill isn't particularly bothered by eldritch horrors.

But marching (or, more accurately, being marched) at the head of a
bloodthirsty mob? That's something else entirely. Neither of them know
the rules, neither has any experience with this sort of thing.

The Claire in the back of Kate's brain is disappointed: it's like
you've never overthrown a government before!

It feels like Claire's attempt at a joke, which is perhaps more
disconcerting than the idea that Claire does have experience at this
sort of thing.

Bassina, who has by now joined them in the hover-wagon, sees Kate's
unease. "I will keep you safe, my lady."

"I'm not worried about me," lies Kate. "But what about them?" She
gestures to the throng beside and behind the wagon. This was a
mistake; they take it as a sign of encouragement and endorsement.

Once the joyous and terrifying cacophony subsides, Bassina
responds. "With respect, my lady. I don't think much harm will come to
them. If the queen," here, she falters a bit, "by which I mean the
other queen, who sits in your throne."

"I don't want it," says Kate in a low whisper.

Bassina nods. "So I've gathered. But if the queen were to command
her forces to move against them, I think it's likely they would pledge
themselves to your cause instead. Or," she shrugs awkwardly, "the
cause that's been declared for you."

"They really hate her that much," says Kate.

"No," says Bassina. "But look to the Red Shields. No one loves her more."

"That's not what I was told."

"By the king's slut?" says Bassina derisively. Then, remembering
her audience, she is appropriately mortified. She's about to apologize
when Kate laughs, shaking her head.

"She does kind of slut around," says Kate.

Pill rolls her eyes. "Prudes."

"The king and his house have no love for us." Bassina corrects
herself. "For them. But I would never have questioned their devotion
to the House of Starshell. Yet they march for you. Not for love of
you. But for fear of the mob. And fear of what comes after.
Revolutions are not kind to those that stood against them."

"And you?" says Kate. "You are a Red Shield, but you are with me.
Is it out of fear of them? Fear of, of me?"

"I." Bassina frowns.

"Be true with me."

"Of course," says Bassina, bowing with a nod. "I have been asking
myself that question all along. I cannot say that I have an answer.
Only that," she hesitates, as if trying to talk herself out of saying
it, but then presses on, "this feels right. You feel right."

"So do you," says Kate. At first she's not sure if she means it,
but the moment that the words leave her mouth, she knows that she
does. Bassina, her Knight of Cups: that feels right. So does Cembalo,
her familiar. Pill, her guide. And in her way, so does Claire.

It's not a "destiny" thing. Kate doesn't believe in that, and as
Pill told her, it's less about Kate being "meant" for this and more
about her being "right" for this, just as her protectors are "right"
for her.

What worries her, though, is that this -- the mob, the other queen,
the weak king -- it feels wrong. Melody being missing, feels wrong.
And after, once she's come to a deeper understanding of this sense of
things being right or being wrong, being in alignment or being
vaguely, tragically "off", she'll realize that the last time she saw
Simon, that too felt wrong.

()

Kate knows that the palace is protected by three concentric walls,
each with a magnificent and ancient gate, though in the reign of
Terry's grandfather, the three gates were thrown open in a display of
approachability, and have remained open ever since. This information
is disconcerting for a couple of reasons, the first being that Kate
doesn't know how she knows this. She's certain Melody didn't tell her.
The obvious candidate is the Claire that cattily nurses a drink in a
corner of Kate's skull, but this doesn't have the same resonance as
other Claire thoughts.

The second thing that bothers her about this is that the first gate
is closed. There is much clamoring from the crowd about how this gate
has never been closed, and how dare the royals profane this sacred
gate by closing it, when all the crowd wants to do is innocently put
the royal family's heads on some pikes. Never mind that the gate that
has "never been closed in thirty years" has in fact been closed
before, during previous crises. Outrage is best nurtured as a novelty,
as something fresh and unprecedented, regardless of how ordinary it's
become in practice. (And, again, Kate has no idea how she knows this.)

The mob becomes more cacophonous and agitated, little groups
shouting among themselves about how they might open the gate, and what
punishment is merited for the apparently heinous crime of closing it.

"Well," says Pill, "we can be reasonably certain that Melody got
word to Kumari."

Kate nods. "She should be back by now. Gotta hand it to Kumari.
Closing it off is the smartest move she can make."

"Forgive me, my lady," says Bassina, "but I am not so certain."

"Call me Kate. And speak freely to me, as to a friend."

Bassina doesn't seem entirely comfortable with this, but presses
on. "If the gate was open, either her guards would defect, or there
would be a massacre of her people. I think the first more likely. In
closing the gate, she hopes to avoid that moment of truth. That these
masses outside the gate will tire and wander off. And maybe at another
time, that would be true. But this feels different."

Kate nods. "She hasn't avoided the crisis, only slowed it. If
anything, it gives the guards more time to chatter. Makes defection
more likely, not less."

"Something like that, yes."

"I think she knows that." Kate closes her eyes, and behind them she
sees Claire slowly nod. She opens her eyes. "I know that she knows
that. And she knows that I know it. That's why she did it."

"Kate?" says Pill, not quite following.

"It's my job, Pill. When people are in trouble, I rescue them. She
closed the gate so I would want to come rescue her. She's done
something to Melody, so she can't come back, so that I would want to
come rescue her, too. She wants me to go in, but not them, and she
knows that I can do it."

Bassina looks perplexed, and so Kate demonstrates, phasing her hand
and passing it ghostly through her knight's shoulder.

"So," says Pill, "it's a trap, then."

"Maybe." She closes her eyes. "Probably." Claire raises an eyebrow.
"Yes." Kate opens her eyes. "Yes, it's a trap."

"So what do we do?"

Kate sighs. "Walk into it."

"I feel like this explains the high superhero mortality rate I hear
so much about."

"Walk into it, carefully," says Kate.

"Oh, that makes all the difference," says Pill, throwing up her hands.

Kate hands Cembalo to Pill, then places both of her palms on the
floor of the hover-wagon. It's not easy to phase everything (the
vehicle, its three human passengers, and the cat) so that Bassina can
drive it through the gate. But Kate's also tackled worse: a whole
space station made intangible, the entire internet made corporeal. So
while it's a strain, neither is it unbearable or unprecedented.

In this state, the wagon and its occupants become like extensions
of her. She feels their hearts beating, their blood pumping, the wires
and gears that propel the wagon forward.

"It's going to be cold," she warns them as they pass through the
gate, and the gate through them. But Bassina is still surprised by how
cold it is, and Pill by how different that cold feels when it's inside
you, and how long the feeling lingers after you're solid again. After
a decade, that doesn't surprise Kate anymore, but she can't say that
she's gotten used to it. All these years later, and metal is still too
cold, still unnerving.

They emerge on the other side and Kate sets to work bringing the
wagon and its occupants back into phase with this plane of reality. If
phasing can be described as like tensing a muscle that doesn't exist,
reversing it is simply an act of relaxing it. But when she's phasing
objects and people, Kate needs to take a moment to disentangle her
atoms from the others. If you're lifting a weight, you need to set it
down before you relax the muscle.

But as she starts to set their weight down, to carefully separate
Kate from Bassina from Pill from Cembalo, that muscle that isn't a
muscle suddenly weakens, and everything and everyone snaps harshly
back to solidity. The result could and should be messy, but as a
reflex Kate tightens the muscle again. She knows that this will only
last for a second. Instinctually, she knows what has happened before
she can articulate it. So she makes it count, forcibly separating the
wagon from her companions, and scattering its mechanical atoms. The
explosion of the wagon passes through them, hot and sharp rather than
cold, and that, too, will linger.

Kate and her companions snap solid once more, falling into the
dirt. Touching the ground, Kate feels the air tighten about her. She
knows what this is. She's felt it before. Before the smoke of the
explosion has cleared enough for her to see it, Kate knows that they
are bound within a circle of salt.

It's about ten feet in diameter, with its outermost rim abutting
this side of the gate. Bassina, being the only one of their number
unfamiliar with this simplest and oldest bit of magic, tries to step
outside the circle, but finds she cannot lift her leg. Neither can
Kate phase here, not in any meaningful way.

In this otherwise empty courtyard, Kate hears the jangling of
spurs. She turns her head toward the sound.

The woman is tall, lanky. She rests a long rifle across her
shoulder blades, held in place by lazy arms. Her gait is unhurried;
her face (angular, ruthless) is bemused. Her hair is black, her eyes
are black, and her costume, which covers everything but her face and
her bare left arm, is black.

A costume, Kate thinks. An honest-to-gosh supervillain. Thank God.
Eldritch whatnots and ancient whatevers she can't make heads or tails
of, but supervillains? She knows how to handle supervillains.

Not just any supervillain, says Claire perceptively. The daughter.

"The daughter?" Kate asks the memory of Claire. But she says it
aloud, and loud enough for the woman with the gun to hear her.

She smiles, a little surprised. "So, you know who I am." Hint of a
drawl. Southwest.

Kate doesn't, but she's not going to admit that. "You're the
daughter," she says simply.

The smile melts into something bitter. "Daughter of the man you killed."

"Flintlock," says Kate. She didn't kill him; Claire did while she
was wearing Kate's face, borrowing Kate's life. Kate's memories of the
encounter are hazy and secondhand. But one of the first things she did
when she got her body back was to read up on everything "she" had
done. "I hope you're not expecting an apology."

"No," scoffs the daughter. "He was trying to kill you, after all.
And I'm not going to pretend Pop was a good or kindly man. If
anything, I'm sore you killed him before I could."

"Lovely," says Pill.

This is a mistake. Blam! A bullet speeds toward Pill. Pill jerks to
one side, but isn't fast enough to avoid being winged in the shoulder.
She cries out just as the woman is putting the small revolver back in
her leg holster. Somehow, she had brought her arm down from the rifle,
drew the revolver, aimed it, and fired it with such speed that she
gave no warning.

"This is mostly professional," she says. "So long as you don't go
and make it personal like your friend here."

Kate nods, curtly. "With respect, if you're here to kill me, I
don't see how it makes a difference."

A flash of white teeth. A sadist's smile. Like mom's smile, at once
manic and cold. "There's a difference."

"So, what, Kumari hired you to kill me? She works fast."

"I happened to be in the area." She brings her big rifle down, idly
checking it over. "Thought I'd try to collect some money Pop was owed,
from when some Lemurian chuckleheads hired him to put a bullet in your
speedy friend. She did give me quite a tussle, by-the-by."

"She's not dead," says Kate. It isn't a question; somehow, Kate
knows Melody is alive.

"Oh, no, King Loverboy wouldn't stand for that. She's just taking a
nap. But he don't know you from Adam, so he didn't object when his
queen asked me to solve this little problem permanent-like."

"Kumari came up with the salt?"

"That's a little insulting." She holds her hand in the shape of a
spade, then twists her wrist. From the ground beneath Kate's feet, the
air swirls up and tightens around her legs. "You're not the only one
that knows her way around a spellbook."

Kate remembers that thing that Pill said earlier, about how it's
not destiny that Kate is the Queen of Cups, only that she happens to
have what was required at the time. Likewise, her adversary isn't
destined to kill her, but just happens to have the right tools for the
job.

"I know who you are now," says Pill. "Wetwork. Mystical assassin."

"It's nice to know my reputation proceeds me." She seems
legitimately pleased by this.

"Can't wait to tell the folks back home I got shot by Wetwork."

"Oh, sweetie," says Wetwork, shaking her head. "You won't be
telling anyone a blessed thing."

Again it only takes a split second for her to draw her pistol, aim
it, and fire. But this time, Bassina puts herself between Pill and the
bullet. The shield is thick enough to stop it, but the speed of the
impact wrenches her arm. Bassina swallows a yelp, and in that fleeting
moment of distraction and recovery, Wetwork pulls the trigger on the
rifle aimed at Kate's skull.

Can't move, can't phase.

But Bassina is fast enough and stupid enough to take the bullet,
not with her shield but with the small of her back.

No one is more surprised than Bassina when she climbs up to her
feet. "I'm alive?"

Kate reaches out with her hand, and from the woman's thin armor,
gingerly plucks a crumpled bullet. "The armor is invulnerable," she
says, and it's not a theory or a hope, but something she knows is
true. It is the gift that the Queen of Cups gives to her knight, the
gift that she has always given. It is old magic, almost as old as the
circle of salt, and just as unbreakable.

"The salt was mine, too," says Kate. They're not her words, and
she's not sure exactly what they mean, and it is utterly bizarre to
hear yourself speaking someone else's cryptic nonsense.

She steps forward, the air around her legs pulling back. "You," she
says, pointing at Wetwork. "You think this is a circle of binding. It
is not. It is a circle of summoning."

The soil beneath them rumbles. The salt glows green. Claire's
green, Kate's green. And then from the earth and the salt, there is a
great serpent, lithe and undulating like the waves, whiskered and
many-eyed, sharp of tooth, glittering scales, a thousand tiny wings
along its back, large enough to swallow them whole.

It lets out a cry, something beautiful like song and terrible like
winter. When it does, the great gate behind them crumbles like
shortbread. So too do the gates before them.

The mob rushes in, and somewhere in the confusion Wetwork is smart
enough to make herself scarce. Kate doesn't really pay any of them any
mind. Her focus is entirely on the sea-dragon twisting windlessly
above them. Already it starts to fade, drops of it falling like snow.
Childishly, Kate catches a flake on her tongue. "Salt."

For whatever reason, this at last brings her back, and it is with
some horror that she observes the mob storming the palace. "I didn't
want this," she says.

"I know," says Pill. "But in the end, magic must be terrible.
Otherwise it wouldn't be wonderful."

()

EPILOGUE ONE

First performed in 2044, "The Tragedy of Terak Torvo" would become the
most popular and widely-performed work of the Lemurian dramatist
Skalodenty. By most accounts, it is not his best or most interesting
work. The general consensus is that would be either "The Charming
Maid" or "The Death of Edvark Blackfin", depending on whether your
tastes inclined toward comedy or tragedy. It's not even the best or
most interesting play in what would become known as the Starshell
Cycle. (In fact, Skalodenty would later proclaim that it was the worst
of the six.) But it was the first Lemurian play to resonate with "the
surface world", which is what Lemurians call everything that isn't
Lemuria, despite the fact that by the time of the play's premiere,
Lemuria had been risen for over two decades.

The bit of trivia everyone knows about "The Tragedy of Terak
Torvo", of course, is that the title character barely appears, having
a scant sixteen lines; two less than the comic relief. More than half
of the play's seventeen hundred lines belong to Torvo's queen, and
perhaps that is the key to the play's longevity and appeal. Though her
tempestuous reign lasted only a few months, Kumari Starshell has had a
long and fascinating cultural afterlife.

It was Kumari's sword that slew the blue lady. Kumari's lips that
kissed the treason kiss. Kumari who doomed us; Kumari, who saved us.
But no one remembers any of that. Like Alfred who burnt the cakes, or
Cnut that fought the sea, Kumari is best known for the Breaking of the
Seaside Throne. This one act dominates depictions of her. Sometimes it
is cast as a heroic act, sometimes an act of petty villainy. In memes
and sketches, it was played for laughs, with an imagined Kumari
becoming enraged at the sight of any kind of furniture, and then
destroying it.

The Breaking of the Seaside Throne is the most famous scene of
"Terak Torvo". As the mob swarms the palace, Torvo flees for his life,
taking the unconscious Melody Mapp with him. Kumari, abandoned, sits
upon the steps before the throne, and wonders what will become of her.
Will the mob set upon her? And if they do, will she let them, or will
she fight her own people? Will the Queen of Cups find her first? And
if she does, will she bow in submission?

"Kate queen of witches seeks my throne to take,
But never will a Starshell bow her head!
No, never will this doom my proud heart break!
The storm at sea will break the chair instead!"

This English translation by Mark Sinclair and Ruby Stevens
(best-known for their version of the classic Badilaran comic novel
"Modern Ordinary Hilarious Saga of the Hikazar") is the standard for
English-speaking performances, but has it faults, necessarily trading
the complex rhymes-within-rhymes of the original Lemurian so as to
preserve the heightened emotions. That's one reason why Skalodenty
much preferred the adaptation of hip-hop poet Jesstrogen, despite the
many liberties she takes with the text. Which makes the other reason
Skalodenty despised the Sinclair-Stevens translation somewhat ironic.
After the four lines quoted above, they inserted a couplet:

Thus broken is her throne! Broken, her spell!
But how shall Queen Kate close the mouths of hell?

For Sinclair and Stevens, it was clear that Kumari knew that by
breaking the throne, it would deprive Kate Morgan of the bulk of the
powers she was to inherit as the Queen of Cups. If she had them during
her final confrontation with her ancient and eldritch enemy, that
contest may not have been so close and perilous, and Earth's victory
may not come at such a high cost. The addition argues that Kumari knew
what she was risking when she broke Kate's seat of ancient power;
"close the mouths of hell" goes one step further, implying that she
knew the nature of the threat Kate Morgan had been chosen to defeat.

Kumari of course had no way of knowing that, but the consensus
today is that she knew that in destroying the seaside throne she
risked the destruction of the earth. She knew, but didn't care. "If
this world ends, it ends," says the Kumari in the prestige television
melodrama series "Lemuria". "My world has already ended!"

Regardless of what the historical Kumari knew, Skalodenty thought
the Sinclair-Stevens couplet a betrayal of "his" Kumari, as it
rendered her redemption at the end of the cycle's final play unearned.
But Stevens, writing notes on the translation after her partner's
death, thought that was rather the point. "Redemption stories are only
interesting if you think the character is irredeemable. It's the
question that's compelling, the messiness of it, never the answer."

()

EPILOGUE TWO

The tightly-pressed mob must navigate narrow corridors and the rubble
of the broken gates, but Kate is able to walk through all of that,
heading in a straight line for the throne room. The door is locked and
barricaded, but she simply walks through that as well, coming face to
face with the remnants of the seaside throne.

"She destroyed the throne," says Kate.

"She did," says Claire. The voice sounds different. Clearer,
fuller. It doesn't surprise Kate, then, to find Claire standing beside
her.

"You said I wouldn't see you again until the solstice."

Claire nods, then approaches the broken throne. "Wasn't expecting
you to start a revolution. Or for Kumari to," she sighs, exasperated,
and waves her hand at the throne in disgust. "This complicates things.
Damn her." She sighs again, furious. "Damn her!" When she turns back
to face Kate, angry tears are rolling down her face.

Kate finds this extremely unnerving. "Are you crying? It's not like you."

"No, it's not," says Claire, swatting the tears away. "But it is
like you, isn't it? Only, you cry when no one's looking. Or, you used
to?"

"Yes, I used to."

"Parts of me are mixed up in you, and parts of you are mixed up in
me. It used to be so hard to feel things. I had to work at it, and
even then, it felt like," she searches for the words, "like I was only
feeling them kind of sideways. Through layers. Layers and layers, and
it felt distant and subtle, like I wasn't sure if it was real or not,
or if I only wanted it to be. And now it's real, and I feel everything
so immediately, so immensely."

"That must be a liability for you," says Kate.

Claire flinches. "You know, I think that's the cruelest thing
you've ever said to me?" She stares at the throne again. "You're not
wrong, though. And I don't have anyone to blame but myself. I knew
when we got mixed up, that this would happen."

"You knew?"

"I wanted it to happen," says Claire. "Wanted to know what it was
like to be normal. To be whole. And now I got it, and I don't know to
deal with it. Never had to before. So now I'm breaking down crying in
front of you like a child. I have so much I need to do."

"For the solstice?"

"Yes," says Claire.

"What happens at the solstice, Claire?"

A cryptic smile. "That depends on whether or not I pull it off. And
even if I do, you've still got your work cut out for you. Only without
the throne, without the old magic. Damn you, Kumari."

"I'd say you're not making a lot of sense," says Kate, "but that
seems to be par for the course for both you, and magic in general. I
don't suppose you're going to explain any of this, are you?"

"Haven't the time, I'm afraid. I just popped in to get this." It is
only now that Kate is aware that Claire has the sword. She doesn't
remember giving it to her. "And to tell you what you would have
learned if you had been able to sit in the throne. You need to close
the mouths of hell. That is your enemy. That is the threat greater
than dread Venus."

"How do you know that?"

Claire looks apologetic. "Because I'm the one that opened them."

"You what?"

"It will make sense at the solstice," says Claire. "You'll forgive
me, or you won't. I'm glad I did it, you know."

"You're glad you opened the mouth of hell?"

"Mouths, plural," corrects Claire. "That's what makes it tricky,
I'm afraid. And I'm not glad for doing that, though I don't think I'll
regret it either. That really depends on how well you do, Kate. Please
don't disappoint."

"I'm remembering now why I hate you."

"I never hated you." It looks like she's about to cry again, but
she swallows it down with an angry smile. "No, I'm glad I borrowed
your heart. Glad I can feel. I spent my whole life dead, and now I get
to be alive. Pity it's right before the end."

"What do you mean, the end?"

Claire looks pleased that Kate asked. "I'll see you at the
solstice. I mean it this time." Claire disappears, but Kate feels a
kiss upon her cheek. "Good luck."

COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND