The good news was Lester had found some female clothes. There were two walk-in closets in two different rooms at the end of the hall filled with mini skirts and blouses and crop tops and jeans and leggings, all of them no doubt belonging to Katarina.
The bad news was the mini skirts were too "mini" and the crop tops too "crop" for Julika.
Luckily, Sal had a few of his clothes in the room opposite Julika's so Lester picked out a black hoodie and grey sweatpants and gave them to Julika, avoiding the glare in her eyes, before racing down the stairs and calling Sal again.
"Hey Sal," he breathed into the phone, after hearing that same recorded message for the third time. "I'm sure you're really busy wrestling a gargoyle or something and I'd hate for you to be distracted while doing something as important as that, but please, PICK UP THE GODDAMN PHONE!"
He pushed down hard on the red "end call" button and tossed his phone to the couch, raking his hand through his hair and moving to the stairs to check up on Julika.
She stood at one of the steps looking down at him. To Lester's surprise Sal's clothes fit her almost perfectly, in them it didn't look like she was being swallowed or like they were resting on her frame. She looked warm and comfortable, the sweatpants stopping just below her ankles, her feet white and bare, her short damp hair skimming the hem of Sal's black hoodie in silvery strings.
"What?" She asked, folding her hands, her stare evolving into a glare.
Lester met her eyes and squinted at her challengingly.
"You clean up nice." he said.
"Says the guy with ash in his hair." She shot back.
She scoffed and traversed the remaining steps soundlessly, her feet basically skipping over them until she passed him by and moved to the sofa. She still smelled like shampoo, but it was mixed with the smell of Sal on the hoodie; fragrance and electricity.
Lester grumbled and dusted his hair, then grumbled again as flecks of ash showered down to the floor.
"I see you made the smoothie," Julika said, the rustle of polythene bags following. "I hope it's as good as you claim it to be."
Lester turned, restraining the tick in his jaw, and walked towards the sofa. Julika had torn through the bags and now sat in the lotus position on the sofa, grasping a cheeseburger and sinking her teeth into it.
Lester watched her eat, just standing and staring, not very sure what to say.
She didn't seem to care. Her sole attention was on her cheeseburger, she took bite after bite without pausing for a break. The girl ate like she'd been hungry for decades.
When she'd nearly devoured her cheeseburger she reached for the pink smoothie in the glass and took a sip.
Her eyes went wide.
Lester couldn't help but smile.
"Oh wow," she whispered. She turned to him, eyes shining with bewilderment. Then she cleared her throat and dropped the glass defiantly. "Not half bad, Chester."
Lester rolled his eyes but moved to the couch. There was his opening for a conversation.
"The name's Lester," he said as he sat and sank into the softness of the cushion. "To my friends anyway, I'm not sure what to make of you yet."
"Neither am I," She said, though her words were muffled by the food in her mouth. She swallowed and took a long drink from her glass, licking her lips as she set it back down on the table. "I did just meet you today after all, and not in the most pleasant way."
"Yeah," Lester replied chuckling. "I'm sorry I read you diary, curiosity gets the better of me sometimes."
"I guess it's okay," She said. She fiddled with the ropes on Sal's hoodie. "I'm sorry I almost killed you."
"No worries, I'm used to it."
She smiled, a pure unblemished smile that lit up the room like a soft light.
"If you don't mind me asking," he said. "Those things you wrote in your diary, about fire and ash..."
"I don't want to talk about it." she snapped defensively.
"I'm sorry, I should probably just mind my business." He leaned back and shoved his hands in his pockets. The room was starting to get cold.
"I didn't mean it like that, I just..." She looked up at him. "I don't understand myself enough to explain myself to you."
Lester recalled the fire that pulsed through his veins, the light that had filled the room, the angel Uriel speaking to him at the point of his death.
"I get that," he said. "Up until a few weeks ago I'd been in a sort of paralyzed state, hearing everything but seeing nothing, feeling nothing."
"Like you were asleep?" She asked softly.
"If I'd had the privilege of dreams I would've called it sleep." He said.
"That's awful." She said sympathetically.
"If you think that's awful, my best friend tried to help me and in the process ended up killing me, resulting in my becoming this....thing that apparently can shoot fire from his eyes, which is pretty cool, but also..."
"Terrifying." She completed.
"Yeah, terrifying." He whispered. "I was just a guy who loved watching romcoms and listening to Alessia Cara and going to church on Sundays, and now I'm a supernatural being trying to learn about a world that's been hidden in plane sight from the beginning of time." He sighed and shrugged. "So if it makes you feel any better, I don't understand myself either." He said with a smile. "But I would like to, with a little help."
She considered him thoughtfully, her face set in contemplation, her eyes searching him like they'd done in her room earlier.
"What?" He asked, looking away. Her gaze had a certain effect on him, like she was stripping him down, clothes and skin and bones, looking at the depths of his soul. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. The cold was getting worse.
"Nothing," she replied. "It's just nice to not be the only confused person in the room, I would also like to understand myself, but Sal isn't giving me the help I need."
"What has he given you?"
"Books, scrolls, knowledge, all of which we destroyed."
"He'll get new ones." Lester said,
"Yeah, he will but they're not helping."
"What do you think will?"
She didn't answer for a while.
"You're not going to like it." She said.
"Maybe, but I'm still going to listen."
Her lips quirked up in a smirk.
"Let's get out of here and have some fun."
Lester gave her an inquisitive look.
"And by "fun" you mean?"
"Nothing destructive, just a nice a walk outside or a trip to some mortal establishment, or we can just sit on the front porch for all I care." Julika leaned forward, eyes pleading. "Please Chester, I have been confined in a bed for months, I can't remember what the sun looks like anymore or what it feels like to have air caress my skin or what it's like to perceive smells other than wood and clothes and cheeseburgers," Her eyes grew wide, like a mad woman's. "I need something new, Chester."
Lester considered her. She looked like she was about to go crazy, and being plagued with dreams like she'd described without any sort of distraction must have made everything much worse. What was the harm anyway?, Sal said he'd be gone for a week, and neither of them had anything to do but wait for him, he could take her outside, just for today, they'd go for a walk, he'd take her to the parts of Philly that weren't that bad and he'd let her feel like a normal person.
Just once.
Just today.
"I'll tell you what," Lester started. "We'll go outside on two conditions."
The plea in her eyes rapidly transformed into a glare.
"What conditions?" She hissed.
Lester gave a smile of his own.
"First, while we walk, we talk, without reservations, I'll tell you all you want to know about me and Sal, and in turn you'll tell me all I want to know about you."
"That hardly seems fair," she said, her glare getting harder. "It's basically extortion."
"Deal or no deal?"
She squinted and Lester swore her eyes glowed a brighter red, like she was about to conjure another magical fire storm.
None of that happened though, she just nodded and hissed a "fine".
"Good" he replied.
"And what's the other condition?"
"Right," he said. "My name is Lester, not Chester."
She gave a smile that looked cute and innocent, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"I know."
***
Casmir suspected coronations to be grand and lavish ceremonies, with food and processions and confetti and, possibly, certainly, an ice sculpture.
The Fey didn't seem to share his sentiment.
It was a simple ceremony. The Fey Folk of the Capital and the Forests gathered in the fields between. Casmir had never seen so many of the Folk together in one place. There were regal looking elves and scruffy looking gnomes, sharp-toothed goblins and broad shouldered orcs, tiny brownies that jumped and skipped and cackled like hyena, jolly pixies that left trails of glittery light as they zipped by his face and left the faint taste of sugar in his mouth. The sirens that had braved the weather to see the event walked around with scales that glimmered purple with Fey Land's unique lighting, a lot of them were naked but Casmir made it a point to focus solely on everyone's faces to avoid any unnecessary visual contact.
The women were dressed in splashes of gold and the men were dressed in shining white, others were dressed in both colours, and despite the snow the field was a glare of brightness.
Unfortunately, there was no ice sculpture.
The weather was only mildly cold today. There were no blizzard like winds and the snow fell in little powdery flakes, like a shower of the confetti Casmir hoped he'd see today. There was still snow covering the field, but in some places you could see little specks of green where the grass peeked out to see what all the fuss was about.
There was a raised platform in the center of it all, a solid stage made of transparent ice, conjured by a Wild mage. Side by side and looking down at the rest of them was Bloom and Melchior.
Bloom was seated on a makeshift throne of ice, a dress of gold rested on her body like a piece of sunlight made into fabric, milky green eyes darting across the crowd forlornly. Casmir could tell she would miss ruling her people, but he could also tell that she was relieved to take off the crown and pass it on. It sat on her head right now, a crown of golden vines, and Casmir wondered how heavy it weighed and how long she'd had to endure that weight for.
Beside her stood Melchior, looking all serious and official. He wore all white armour that covered his whole body in the form of a general's jacket that started from the top of his neck and stopped at his waist, extending further down in trousers that stopped just below his ankles. His arms were bare, and so were his feet, and a long white cape flowed from his shoulders, sweeping the floor of the stage of ice. He'd tucked his hair behind his ears, letting his ocean eyes stand out.
Ocean eyes that flicked and met Casmir's.
Casmir felt his heart skip a beat, a sensation that he still wasn't familiar with. Melchior smiled and nodded in greeting. Casmir didn't know what to do, should he nod back?, or wave?, give a peace sign?
He attempted to do all three but suddenly forgot how to raise his hands and ended up slapping himself.
He swore and glared at his hand, and when he raised his eyes he saw that Melchior was chuckling and trying hard to suppress it. Bloom noticed and shot a glare at Casmir.
"Enjoying yourself I see," came Katarina's familiar voice. She stepped in place by his side and focused her gaze on the duo. "Can you and Melchior please behave it's a big day for Bloom."
"It's not my fault I'm a bundle of fun," He said.
She rolled her eyes and gathered her dark hair so all of it rested on one shoulder. It was so black it reflected the purple light. Like all the other women she wore gold, her outfit being a gold top that stopped above her belly button and a long, golden skirt that hid her feet and touched the snow, a shoal of a paler shade rested on her shoulders.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" She said, still looking at the pair.
Yes, Casmir thought, looking at only Melchior whose hand rested gently on Bloom's throne and whose soft smile sent another jolt of warmth through Casmir's chest. Beautiful.
"I really wish we didn't have to drag them back with us." Katarina was saying.
Casmir faced her and saw the worry plain on her face.
"It's for their own good," He said. "And for the good of their home, they know that." He smirked for good measure. "Besides, they love the Mortal World, Melchior likes how different it is and Bloom likes how challenging it could be. Strange woman, that nymph."
"If that's so," Katarina said, not the least bit amused, "Then they should be visiting, not running to hide from some potential danger." She wrapped her arms around herself and played with the hem of the shoal nervously. "I didn't think we'd be facing another crisis all of a sudden, it all seems so soon, too soon."
He pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing her to his side. She rested her head on his shoulder willingly. Casmir was reminded of a time before he'd Turned, the memory of nights when their dad took more time than usual to come home and Katarina was scared something bad had happened to him. Casmir would hold her close the way he held her now, whispering "it's okay" repeatedly into her ear until she fell asleep.
"It's okay" he whispered now, rubbing her shoulder. "Everything will be alright."
A long, low sound erupted from somewhere and spread throughout the fields, the Fey Folk erupted in shouts and claps.
The ceremony was starting.
"Hey guys!"
Casmir and Katarina turned to see a tall, blonde figure squeezing through the teeming crowd of Fey. It took Casmir some time to register who it was until they finally emerged.
Marcus was like a statue hewn from gold and marble. He wore a white hoodie and joggers, which was out of place amongst silk dresses and cotton suits and naked people, his hair was a radiant gold bound in a ponytail by a silver band, and his eyes were golden spheres of excitement as he came to a stop in front of them.
Casmir didn't really know Marcus as much as the rest, in fact according to Katarina he'd been a twelve year old boy last year which made no sense to Casmir cause he looked about seventeen years old right now, still it was easy to adore him. He didn't know if it was a fox thing or a kitsune thing but he was glad he found it easy to relate with him, especially since he hadn't really experienced everything the way the others had experienced it.
"Do you know where Sal is?" Marcus asked, over the near thunderous sound of clapping.
Casmir felt Katarina tense in his arms.
"No," she said. "I haven't seen him all morning."
"He's probably on his way here." Casmir said.
The Fey started to cluster together, leaving a space that split right down the middle of the crowd and led to the platform of ice.
"Sal's notoriously punctual," Katarina said. "If he were coming he'd be here by now."
The sound of clapping ceased and everywhere fell into silence as Selina descended to the ground in a silver chariot pulled by a pegasus with a gleaming black mane. She wore neither gold nor white, instead her dress was icy blue, made of shimmering silk and transparent lace, star-like jewels dotted her arms, and her wings appeared as if they were made of webs.
Quite an entrance, Casmir thought, as he watched the fairy land in the snow.
"Casmir, focus." hissed Katarina.
"It's Sal we're talking about," Casmir whispered, looking down at his sister's worried eyes. The gathering had gone deadly silent and the Fey around them were shooting reproachful looks their way. Heathens, their eyes seemed to say. "He's going to be fine, okay, he's strong, resourceful, and definitely not stupid enough to willingly put himself in danger."
Katarina didn't look convinced.
"Just relax, I'm sure wherever he is right now he absolutely needs to be there."
***
Do I really need to be here right now?, Sal thought as he looked up the ragged side of the mountain that loomed before him.
The top was shrouded in thin, black smoke, molten lava slowly spilling down the side like a river of fire, the ground around him was ashes and only ashes. In the distance he could make out the Crystal Palace, the blue ocean waters, the Forests that stretched as far as his eyes could see, all of the beauty stopped at a line a few miles from him, the line where life ended and death began.
He'd been Called out here early this morning while preparing for the Coronation. In fact, he still wore the white tunic Melchior lent him, it was long and flowed from his neck to his feet, like a kaftan, with priceless Fey jewels hand-sewn into the fabric along the arms, chest and torso. Though the hem of his garment had been stained with ash the rest of it remained spotless.
Ju chi...
There it was again, the Call, the pulse of his identity spoken from the mind of another mage, was brief and faint, nearly inaudible. Meaning whoever it was that searched for him didn't know his real name, they only knew an echo of the person he was.
But they knew him.
That was enough to send him reaching for his wand and jumping through a portal instantly, using the lingering magical energy in the Call to Find whoever it was that needed him.
He'd landed here, miles away from Fey civilization, at the foot of the Fiery Mountains, or as the Fey like to call it...
Hel.
Ju chi, came the Call again, soft and coarse at the same time.
"Hold your fucking horses will you," muttered Sal. He could feel the magic of the Call grating against his mind. It was old, and had the ghost of pure power in it, but it seemed weakened by whatever sinister magic ebbed from the ancient stones of Hel.
They were in there, somewhere in the fire and suffering, and against his better judgement, succumbing to the part of himself that yearned to discover more, he would find them.
He reached his hand out, feeling the rocky surface of the mountain. It was steaming hot but Sal didn't mind, he was used to pain far worse than this. He stretched out his magical senses into the mountain, Feeling around for any forms of resistance. It wasn't a prison for nothing after all, there could be wards, landmines of magic waiting to be activated, ready to annihilate potential prison breakers.
Or intruders.
And he was right.
Hel was a nuclear bomb of magic.
Wards were wrapped around the mountain like a snake coiled around its prey. They pulsed with magic of all kinds, energies that were familiar to him from all his months of study; Norse runes from Freya's fingers, incantations from Belial's lips, charms forged from Gaea's blood and nails.
He pulled back his hand, his mark searing with heat, every hair on his body standing, his skin erupting with goosebumps.
There was no way he was going in there. It was madness. It was suicide.
But then again...
He couldn't die.
"By the fucking gods, I must be going crazy," He whispered, pushing hair out of his eyes and looking up to the top of the mountain once more, staring at the halo of darkness and then the purple sky above it.
He laughed, gripped his wand hard and closed his eyes.
For months Sal had studied runes and glyphs and sigils of all kinds, but none of them were like his. His glyphs were a manifestation of his intent, unique to his magical energy. He'd consulted various high mages across countries, even some Elder druids of Wild magic, they all said the same thing, that some of the glyphs he drew had never existed, that he created them on the spot depending on what he wanted to achieve, that it was the nature of his blessing from the Egyptian god Anubis; the magic of glyphs.
Now as he stood before ancient stone he thought of hidden passageways and secret entrances, of loopholes and gaps and cheat codes, he thought of chinks in metal armor and cracks in concrete walls. He thought of Moses parting the Red Sea and the Father making ways in the Wilderness.
Lines imbued with magic spiraled out of him and unto the black surface of the mountain, flowing out the way it always does, like ink ebbing out from the nib of a pen. They connected and locked like lovers parted from each other, unable to wait another second for their reunion.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the glyph he'd created pulsing blue against the black mountain rocks; a line, cutting through a tapestry of spaces woven together like the corridors of a maze.
The Way glyph.
Suddenly he felt a pull, several pulls, like ropes of gravity fastening on to him. It wrapped itself around his arms, his legs and his stomach, then it wrenched outwards in multiple directions.
Sal's first thought was to fight it, to pull against, but he recognized the feel of his own magic and realized that would be fighting against himself. So, he let it pull him apart.
Damn was it painful.
The sound of all his atoms disassembling was a series of pops and crackles and whirs, the feeling of slowly being dismantled by the chords holding together your DNA was complete agony. He wondered if this is what Lester had felt when he blew apart, then decided not to think about it as the world disappeared and was replaced by blackness.
Is this it? was he dead? Had he lost?
The world came rushing back between one moment and the next.
The first thing he felt was the heat coming at him from all sides, especially from below him.
He looked down and saw that the floor was literally lava. He also saw that his feet didn't touch the ground, it hovered slightly above it.
Holy crap, I'm floating.
He looked up.
He found himself enclosed by charcoaled walls gone hard from heat and cooling. The only light in the room was the lava that bubbled from corners of the floor. It flowed like thick boiling water, bubbles of heat popping and steaming and melting the lower parts of the walls.
He was inside.
Sal laughed hysterically. He couldn't believe it, he'd done it, he'd actually done it.
"By the fucking gods, I am going crazy," He whispered as he laughed.
"You do not know the half of it," drawled a coarse, tired voice. "Beautiful entrance by the way."
Sal turned to the source of the voice and squinted into the darkness. Two thin circles of gold stared back at him.
"Transmuting your body into pure magic is clever, plus you've brought much needed color to the room."
He moved closer, walking on air as though it were land, squinting into the pitch blackness.
The Fey lying in the darkness was as black as night, blending with the wall, which was why Sal hadn't seen her at first. She sat in a circle untouched by lava, curling into herself to hide the shame of her nakedness. She was scarred too. Little strands of silver - what probably used to be hair - lay flat and sparse on her head, probably shaved off by the dull end of a crude blade, and the tips of her ear that were pointed once were cut off, all that remained were blunt stubs. The ears of a mortal.
"You mortals have a thing you say in situations like this," drawled the Fey. "My eyes are right here."
"I know, impossible to miss amongst all the black and red," Sal replied. "The lava is a nice touch, really warms up the room."
She chuckled dryly, like she wasn't used to jokes or laughing.
"That tongue of yours, sharp and quick as a blade, it is one of the only things I admired about you, ju chi."
"And who, pray tell, might my admirer be," Sal demanded. "I seem to have a lot of them these days."
"As expected, Phantom Killer, I admit I did not expect you to remember me, time and choices they change us all, though some of us bloom and others wither away."
"Withering suits you," Sal said as he moved closer. The blue glow he emitted fell on the Fey woman, illuminating the contours of her face, the small and sinister smile on her lips. She looked familiar.
"You still cannot recall? Quite a shame, I expected more from a being as powerful as you, though it is in the nature of men like you to forget women like me, women whom you have controlled and put to scorn by using words as sweet as honey."
It was then it clicked, but the memory that resurfaced was of a woman sitting on a throne that depicted night itself, her hair long and silver like his, a dress of crow's feathers falling to her feet.
"Titania," Sal whispered.
She seemed to sigh in relief, her smile only growing wider.
"Ah, what relief, it has been years since I heard my name spoken from the lips of another who breathes, say it again for me, please."
"Thirsty much?" Sal said.
"You dare judge me? You have no idea what it is like to dwell here, a Queen of Winter and Night, confined to a space of only fire and burning." She wheezed. "Forgive me if I have learned to crave simple things like the sound of my name on another's lips."
Sal crouched to take a better look at her. He saw the jagged edges of nails that had been as sharp as talons once. He instantly felt pity for her.
"When Bloom said her parents had been exiled I didn't think they'd sent you to Hel."
"We? Not we, I, I alone was brought here to suffer, Gaddiel was only demoted to a Gentry Knight, an advantage of being born of Poseidon, the lucky telkhine."
"What happened?"
"Choices, ju chi, the wrong ones," She adjusted so that her head swiveled up, Sal could see the other part of her face, it was molten, misshapen, no longer beautiful. "How is Bloomera? She doesn't visit anymore; her royal duties must keep her busy."
"She hands over today," Sal said.
"As it should be, she was never the ruling type, she is like her father, born for danger and adventure, which is why the gods brought you to her, you Phantoms are the depiction of living danger."
"As much as I love all the compliments I need to know why you Called me here," Sal said impatiently. "There are issues I must deal with immediately and the Coronation I am currently missing is one of them."
"Ah yes, I know of your issues," she smiled a crooked smile. "Word gets around, even here in Hel. The denizens of the Other World speak of an evil that has awakened, an evil being protected by you, ju chi."
Julika.
"Yes, it shows on your face, you have knowledge of what I speak of, all the realms are shaking at the thought of such an alliance, the Child of the Serpent and the Phantom Killer, an alliance that will end worlds as we know it."
"Get to the point, Titania." Sal hissed.
"No need for hostility," Titania said, she closed her eyes, as if she were tired, but the smile remained on her face. "You may have the tongue of Satan but your heart is of pure gold, of clear crystal, you are simply incapable of true evil." She opened one eye, teasing him. "The other one though, I doubt, which is why I am presenting you with gifts."
Yeah right.
"Fey don't give gifts, they give the burden of debt through the illusion of a gift."
"Perhaps my gifts do come with a burden, but it is one you bear already, hear me out and you will see that I speak no lie."
Sal peered down at the eyes of the desperate ex-queen, what is it that she would want? Her freedom? Revenge on Gaddiel? The crown on her head again?
"Speak," Sal said.
She sighed in relief again and closed her eyes once more.
"There is a ring buried at the foot of a lone rowan tree not far from the edge of the Forests. It is charmed to suppress excessive magical energy, take it and do with it as you please, that is my first gift to you."
"Noted, and what next? A magical sword at the bottom of the ocean?"
"Something much more powerful," she said, opening her eyes and sitting up. "Fade? You may come out now."
Something bright red slid out of the lava, molten rock cascading down the length of its serpentine body. Its scales glistened like hot coal as it curled all the way up Titania's arm, sending steam up into the air as it rested on her.
Sal would remember those scales anywhere. They were the scales of the first dragonling he'd set his eyes on. He remembered how small it had been then, how beautifully gold it's eyes had glistened as it crawled up Sal's leg.
It was larger now, nearly the full length of a python, two long gold horns erupted from its head and twisted backwards, it's wings rested on its back, lines of gold webbed across it like veins, intelligent golden eyes staring at Sal with fascination and anticipation.
"Fade is my Familiar, and he is my last gift to you." Titania said stroking the dragon's spine but keeping her eyes on Sal.
"But the familiar chooses its owner, you cannot just give him to me."
"He did choose you, on your previous visit he imprinted on you, but you both cannot be fully bonded unless I sever my bond to him, therefore I will, for both his sake and yours. He cannot remain bonded to me, it will do him no good, and you will need a mighty creature such as he to fight by your side in the battles to come."
"If it is his choice to be bonded to me then I'll gladly agree."
She smiled, her eyes shifting from him to Fade. For the third time she showed relief, and, it seemed for the first time in a while, she expressed joy.
"Good, very good, I have a feeling the both of you will enjoy each other's company, and sharing each other's power will prove beneficial indeed. Yes, it is very good."
Sal moved back, he could sense the effects of his glyph fading, the magic slowly vanishing. And yet...
"Let me help you get out of here, I'll make a bargain, I'll control whoever I must, I'll persuade the new Queen to release you from here."
"And why would you do that?" Titania said, not taking her eyes off Fade.
"Because I want to, because I think I can."
"There is no need, I am somewhat content with my place here, and you have given me more than what I have received in years."
"Then what is the burden?"
She looked up, eyes suddenly serious.
"Keep Bloomera safe." she said. "That is all I want."
"Keep my friends safe is not a burden."
"It is," she closed her eyes again. "But it is one you bear with ease."