* 

Eydis shoved through the common-room door of Bloomingrose boarding house. Again. Since Primrose had closed for quarantine, this dorm for Years 8-10 had served as a temporary refuge.

But this was no reality. Every sprint along a hundred timber corridors curled back to the same shabby sofas and coffee tables, as if the building were a circular trap designed only for her. 

Somewhere in the varnished labyrinth Lust was hiding; somewhere behind identical doors Astra’s mind waited, locked tight.

Inside Astra’s mindscape she moved as if underwater, one arm bound by rules she dared not break. She could obliterate Lust, shatter the illusion, snap every dream-bone in the parasite’s body, but the host would fracture with it. 

And that, she could not allow. Precision, she told herself, precision.

Still, she could find no way to escape the loop without resorting to violence. How much longer could she afford to be a scalpel before the hammer became inevitable?

With a sigh she collapsed onto a sagging couch and flicked through a teen fashion magazine abandoned on the low table. The cover date caught her eyes: 22 April 2048, first day of Term Two at St Kevin’s. Astra had enrolled late, so this must mark her arrival. 

This was Astra’s memory, that much was certain. But why this one? The absence of an exit suggested that, perhaps, this place had always been a kind of prison to her.

Maybe the way out wasn’t a hallway at all, but a choice Astra had never made.

The thought tugged at something deep in Eydis but she pushed it aside, rose, and slipped back into the corridor once more.

She searched each section of the shared dormitory until she found one of the four cubicles that stood out in its refusal to stand out: academy-issue bedding, no boy-band posters, not even a single photo.

A room that hinted its occupant had always kept one foot out the door, never intended to belong, never truly felt they did.

The wardrobe, though, held clothes chosen with the flawless taste she knew by heart. This was no doubt Astra’s cubicle. At the far wall a window glowed with autumn light, the courtyard blazing orange beneath swirling maple leaves.

Eydis remembered the countless times Astra had gazed out those windows, the way the wrought iron traced mesmerising shadows across her flawless face, how her eyes always seemed distant, as if… 

Without another thought, Eydis slid the latch, slipped through.

And landed on polished marble.

Black-suited figures hurried past, half flesh, half illusion, beneath a glass dome that soared six, maybe seven storeys into a cerulean sky. The current of ghosts pushed her into an elevator, lifted her to the top floor.

Chief Advisor Dmitri Romanov, the frosted nameplate read. She knew the name; he’d liaised with Thomas Blackwood during the crusade to capture Greed. So this was the Council’s headquarters, another fragment of Astra’s memory.

Inside, papers lay in disciplined stacks. One slim folder bore Astra’s name. 

Codename: The Blade 

Designation: Spear-Class Operative - Group 3

Gift Type: Weapon Conjuration (Metal) 

Kill Count…

Eydis’s fingers clenched around the folder before she set it down with more force than intended. Then she saw another file, this one labeled The Blade.

Assignment 

Target codename: Ashen Vulture 

Status: suspected terrorist, Gifted, highly dangerous 

Location: Times Square, New York 

Date: 4 July 2047 

Directive: Neutralise

A kill order.

She lingered at the edge of the desk, staring at the folder far longer than sense allowed. From scraps of conversation torn out of Astra’s guarded silence, Eydis had gathered that the Council kept order with clean, wordless eliminations. Paperwork first, blood later.

Was this really what they pressed into Astra’s hands?

Behind all that cold precision lay a heart softer than most, one that bruised quietly and easily. Eydis had seen silent tears track those perfect cheekbones. She had wanted to brush them away with her lips, wanted to set every continent ablaze for daring to hurt her.

So this was the escape? Out of one prison, the dormitory, and into another, larger cage. 

Gilded, glass-walled, but still a cage.

The building answered such thoughts. Beams groaned, plaster sifted down like dirty snow. With a flick of her wrist the ceiling peeled back. 

Black feathers burst from her shoulder blades, slicing clean through the satin of her midnight gown. She soared upward. The sky began in cerulean, then deepened into cobalt, bled into indigo, and at last ignited in molten orange. 

Not sunset, but fire.

The world burned.

She descended, though “descended” was generous. The ground raced up to meet her heels, and suddenly she was standing in a city of ruins.

Not Alchymia, she noted, recognising the mangled spire of the Empire State Building. Giant billboards flickered across every façade, some frozen, some glitching, shards of colour strobing over broken glass. 

Times Square?

Astra didn’t talk much about her years here. But looking at the devastation, the cracked glass, the fire, Eydis knew she’d hated every damn minute of it.

A towering hologram fizzed above the square, a news anchor droning about a Fourth-of-July attack, about cancelled fireworks, cancelled concerts, cancelled hope. 

A successful attack? How had Eydis never heard of such?

Unless this was not memory at all.

This was rage. Tranquillity had been a cell; this fever-dream was worse. A nightmare meant Astra was losing control, which meant—

Damn it.

“You’re supposed to be the stable one,” she shouted, hoping her voice would thread its way to Astra, wherever consciousness sheltered. “Hang on. I can’t lose you now.”

The street replied by rotating ninety degrees, then another ninety, until she was walking upside-down above cobblestone.

Hair streamed earthward, then floated outward, as though she strolled through a sullen sea. Sirens howled, or maybe they cackled; hard to say when the world itself was drunk. 

She had always believed Astra untouchable. Yet here they were. Because of Lust.

Eydis swallowed the fire rising in her throat and sharpened her thoughts instead.

Never, not in her darkest foresight, had Eydis imagined it would be Lust. 

Lust, an inconsequential pest, could fester into havoc beyond measure. 

She walked through the ruin, though her feet never touched the ground, dark violet mist trailing behind her. The world tilted once more, then grudgingly, righted itself.

Smoke and embers hung in suspension; fire crackled from the charred skeleton of a school bus. One jagged panel spun toward her brow. It stopped inches away.

Eydis raised one brow. “Try harder.”

The panel quivered like it sought to breathe, then crumpled and ricocheted elsewhere.

Wind pulled at her dark brown waves. Another pest. She smothered that too. 

Clicks followed, then the whir of tiny motors. One by one, the street’s white security cameras twisted in her direction, blank-eyed, red-lit, watching. 

Tracking. Listening.

This wasn’t Astra anymore.

She stepped beneath the nearest pole and craned her neck. A slow, mocking smile curved her mouth.

“Nice to see you again.”

The red eye blinked.

“Oh, don’t be shy,” she said sweetly. “Voyeurism can’t be your only kink.”

Silence answered.

“Fine. Watch. I’m about to give you a front-row seat to your own exorcism, bitch.”

The Queen of Shadows tasted for the first time a distant note of burnt sugar, Lust’s scent. Close. It threaded through Astra’s dreams, not as a conquering presence but something…

Diminished.

Had Astra beaten it back? Then why hadn’t she awakened? Unless Lust had left its claws somewhere deeper, subtler.

Unacceptable.

Her golden eyes ignited. Street cameras sparked, cracked, and burst into glitter. Gravity, offended, flipped upside down, sulked, gave it another shot to fling her off the board. 

Eydis slipped free of the street, floating calmly, already planning a punishment this parasite would never forget.

Blink.

The world slammed into winter. Blizzards clawed at mountainous drifts, yet snowflakes circled shy of her heels. Above, a crescent moon the colour of dried blood tilted in private amusement.

The wind howled, sounding like laughter.

Amused?

I’ll show you amused.

A lone figure waited. Silver hair lashed her cheeks; trench coat snapping. Astra stood rigid, eyes glassy with frost.

Eydis stepped once, and the frozen plain collapsed into a single heartbeat; suddenly they were close enough to share the same breath.

Astra.

She scowled. “Here you are again.”

Eydis lowered her gaze. “You don’t sound thrilled to see me.”

Her fingers slid through Astra’s silken hair, a gesture she had repeated a hundred times. Yet this time she tightened her grip and yanked. Hard.

A surprised gasp. “What are you—”

Astra’s protest dissolved against lips pressing to her throat. A gentle graze first, then incisors pierced soft skin. Illusion folded beneath a helpless moan.

The gale blinked out, replaced by candlelit silence.

They tumbled onto an enormous bed Eydis had never seen. White sheets tangled around Astra’s limbs. She wore only a sapphire nightdress, hem riding high on bare thighs.

Eydis straddled her hips, never breaking contact with that frantic pulse.

“If you think biting proves you’re real,” Astra murmured, pulse thundering.

Warm breath fogged space between them. Eydis traced lazy loops over taut muscle, fingers drifting lower with unbearable patience.

Astra’s moan betrayed her.

Eydis’s chuckle skimmed skin. Crimson eyes darkened to wine. 

“A flawless…” A thumb swept across Astra’s sculpted cheekbones. “…magician. But every trick needs a believer. And I see through every sleight of hand.”

Astra’s eyes widened. “You’re calling me an illusion?” Something cold traced her ribs, coaxing a gasp she couldn’t contain. “S-Stop.”

Eydis dragged the blade of shadow toward Astra’s throat. “So unlike you to protest, Lust. Did you actually believe this pitiful masquerade would pass for her?”

In a blink, that reluctant, near-serene mask cracked and replaced by something feral, slick with desire. 

Astra’s lips deepened to a scandalous red, eyelids heavy with desire. Her bare feet slid slowly up Eydis’s calf.

“Oops,” the Sin purred, lips parting in a smile too wet to be innocent. “A masquerade is only pitiful when the audience refuses to dance. Indulge me, Queen of Shadows, and the mask becomes the face. But you caught on quickly. I’m almost impressed.”

“Indulge?” Eydis tipped her head, curious.

Lust sighed, the patient tutor of slow students, and combed through the dark waves at Eydis’s nape, nails teasing scalp. “Virgins. So rigid. Who’d imagine the sovereign of nightmares could be prudish, and frankly, almost dull?”

“Interesting assumption,” Eydis replied.

“Oh? Darling, your little girlfriend has already confessed everything to me,” Lust whispered, breath hot and thick with caramel and honey. “How you wouldn’t fuck her, how you have no idea how to.”

Eydis’s eyes darkened. 

Lust giggled, pleased. “Ahh, poor thing, so… helpless. Maybe I should teach you how to please her. She is the kind of woman men would trade their souls for.”

The air shimmered. A second Astra strode into being, knee-high boots creaking, leather jacket gleaming, lace choker snug against her throat, scarlet eyes sharpened by black eyeliner.

She tore the shadow blade from Eydis’s grasp and hurled it across the room, where it vanished into smoke on impact.

“Now… imagine you could do anything you wanted to Astra. Anything. I could make you feel things you’ve never dared whisper.”

A third Astra emerged, skin bare beneath dream-dark light, yet Eydis’s stare never left the first. They crawled across the mattress, circling her like predators playing prey. 

Satin voices layered over one another:

“I can be anyone you want.” 

“However many you want.” 

“My Queen.”

Shadows curled around Eydis’s wrists, knitting into crimson silk that bound her arms behind her back. “Adorable that you think this could restrain me,” she said, testing the binding.

“Oh sweetie, do you still imagine you have the advantage in our domain?” the leather-clad Astra asked.

Hands touched her shoulders, her waist, her spine, her thighs. 

“Submit, and I will let you drown in sweetness,” another whispered into her hair.

A slow, dangerous smile curved Eydis’s lips. She leaned into the bodies and whispered, “Go on. Teach me.”