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Chapter Text

Dor bit her lip nervously; Sister Mary Margaret loomed over her, lecturing in a scolding tone about the dangers of imagination and straying from God and encouraging others to do the same. She’d heard this lecture before. Sister Mary Margaret, headmistress of St. Bridget’s Orphanage, was emphatic on staying true to God’s will. For orphan girls like Dor, God’s will meant reading the stories of the Bible and eschewing the stories of Shakespeare; it meant keeping her head out of the clouds and her feet on a righteous path; it meant ignoring her imagination and focusing on reality.

“Are you paying attention?” Sister Mary Margaret demanded.

Dor jumped and nodded, though she hadn’t been.

Sister Mary Margaret sighed and grumbled. “You must be a test directly from the Lord Himself. Never has a girl in my orphanage been so caught up in her own head. You are thirteen years old now. You should have outgrown such childish dreaming, and you will learn to respect God, if I have to spank you every day to make sure of it.”

“Oh, please, Sister Mary Margaret,” Dor said. “I try to be good, I promise, but I can’t help my dreams. They just happen.”

Sister Mary Margaret took hold of Dor’s shoulder firmly. “You can control your thoughts. You’re just not trying hard enough.”

“But, Sister—“

“Dorothy Alice Wendy!”

Dor winced. She hated it when Sister Mary Margaret used all three of her names like that. She loved her name. She thought it sounded fantastical and adventurous. It sounded like a trio of girls who actually visited far off lands rather than just imagining them. But when Sister Mary Margaret said her name in that tone of voice, it sounded shameful.

“That is enough!” Sister Mary Margaret pulled Dor to the far corner of the room where stood a thick, sturdy chair with a straight back and no arms. Every girl at St. Bridget’s Orphanage knew the spanking chair. Dor knew it better than most. Sister Mary Margaret sat with a thump, her ample frame filling the broad, sturdy chair.

Dor knew better than to resist. Even so, she couldn’t help but squirm as Sister Mary Margaret pulled her firmly to a thick thigh and forced her to bend over her broad lap. Dor put her palms flat on the floor to brace herself even as her tiptoes left the floor. Her vibrant red hair fell past her shoulders to lie in a pair of braided crumples on the floor. She knew her pale, freckled cheeks were already flushing with embarrassment, her bright green eyes shining with unshed tears. For all that she was experienced in being spanked by Sister Mary Margaret in this very chair, Dor couldn’t help but be embarrassed, couldn’t help but cry, couldn’t help but hate it.

Sister Mary Margaret hiked up Dor’s skirts to bunch them on her back revealing her plain white drawers and her pale, skinny legs. She untied the knot at the small of Dor’s back to loosen the drawers and pulled them over her bottom, letting them fall to Dor’s ankles where they promptly slipped off her feet and to the floor.

Dor gave a little sob.

“Yes, well, we’ll have you crying for real in no time,” Sister Mary Margaret said as she slapped Dor’s thigh sharply.

Dor squeaked.

Sister Mary Margaret thought Dor carried on far too much during a spanking, that it didn’t really hurt all that much, that the girl was playacting, but Dor couldn’t help it. She had tried, many times, to moderate her reaction, and every time she failed.

Sister Mary Margaret was a thorough, efficient, and experienced spanker. She spanked Dor’s bare bottom, alternating right, left, right, left, making Dor’s whole body burn and squirm. Dor tried to bite back her tears but was, as usual, unsuccessful. Within moments she was sobbing, which seemed only to encourage Sister Mary Margaret to spank her harder. Dor wailed and apologized and promised, but Sister Mary Margaret had none of the mercy she so often preached in sermons.

When it was done, Sister Mary Margaret deposited Dor upon her feet. “You’ll get no supper tonight,” she said. “For your caterwauling.”

Dor sniffled and sobbed. “Oh, please, I haven’t hadn’t had anything since breakfast.” She knew, immediately, that was the wrong thing to say. Sister Mary Margaret’s gaze turned fearsome.

“Shall I fetch my cane, young lady?”

Dor’s eyes went wide and she shook her head frantically. For all that she was commonly spanked by the sisters of St. Bridget’s Orphanage, Dor had only ever been caned twice and it was such a miserable experience she did everything she could to avoid it.

“To bed with you,” Sister Mary Margaret said.

Dor scurried off.

The orphans’ bedroom was on the top floor of the orphanage, a single large room with several beds arranged in rows. It was empty for the moment, which Dor preferred given her still burning bottom and damp cheeks. She hurried to her bed and pulled a small trunk from under it that held her spare clothes. She pulled off her dress and chemise, realizing with cheek-burning humiliation that she’d left her drawers in Sister Mary Margaret’s study. She pulled on her nightgown and, with no one to hear her or tease her or chide her, sobbed into her pillow.

She should have known better. She should have known when Elmira Gulch asked her what sort of dreams she’d had, the girl hadn’t really wanted to know. Elmira had only wanted to tease her, as the other orphans at St. Bridget so often did. She’d hoped, since Elmira was new, that she might be different. So, Dor had told her about the frozen town of Christmas on the world of Trenzalore and the old toymaker who defended it from monstrous aliens; she told her of the corn fields of Iowa and the spirits of long-dead ball players who came to play again; she told her of Narnia, a land filled with talking beasts ruled by four human children and watched over by a great lion.

Dor knew she had a tendency toward earnestness. She knew others thought her silly for it. Nonetheless she couldn’t help but think the best of people, to assume they saw the same potential in imagination she did, to assume the beauty of the world inspired wonder in them all.

But Elmira had laughed at her.

“That ought to be good for a trip to Old Mary’s spanking chair,” Elmira had said. Dor had pleaded with Elmira, but it did no good. As she sobbed into her pillow, Dor sobbed as much for that deliberate betrayal as she did the throbbing burn radiating from her spanked bottom.

She woke briefly when the other girls filled the room with their chatter, coming to bed after dinner, but they didn’t bother her and soon she drifted to sleep again.

She awoke with a start in the middle of the night. The room was filled with the quiet breathing of sleeping orphan girls. The pain of the spanking was gone, though she ached faintly, like after a day of hard chores. She didn’t know what had woken her. She thought it might have been her dream, but couldn’t remember it. Her heart thudded painfully and she lay on her back, staring at the dark ceiling, taking slow, careful breaths in hopes the anxiety would pass. After several minutes more, the ache in her chest eased and her heart slowed to its normal pace. She closed her eyes and tried for several minutes to quiet her mind so she could return to sleep, but quieting her mind was a skill Dor was particularly bad at.

So, after several minutes more, she rose from bed and crept to the window at the far end of the room. It was the only window in the orphans’ bedroom. It was large with leaded panes and an arched top. The orphans, of course, were strictly forbidden from opening the window and though Dor tried hard to follow the rules, for this one small freedom she flouted them.

But only at night when she was certain she’d not be caught.

She knew how to unlatch the window in just such a way as the metal would not scrape or clink. She knew how to open it, not too slowly so it would creak, but not too fast so it would squeak. She knew just how far to open it so she could slip her thin, pale frame through. All this she did with practiced ease and slipped onto the wood-shingled rooftop.

The angle of the roof was steep enough she had to be careful, but not so much she couldn’t traverse it with careful steps. Dor closed the window behind her, leaving it open just enough she could open it again from the outside, then took her usual spot with her back to the brick wall of a chimney that ran to the sisters’ quarters. It was warm through the fabric of her nightgown.

The night was cool with late summer chill and a hint of coming autumn. She smelled rain on the air and looked to the horizon where a smudge of cloud was lit faintly by a moon overhead and behind. She knew from experience, rain on the horizon could be upon her with deceptive celerity, so she kept her eyes on the distant clouds while her mind wandered.

She tried to remember what had awoken her. It wasn’t the first time she’d been woken by a bad dream and she wasn’t usually interested in remembering the scary ones, but it was rare she didn’t remember one. No matter how she tried, it wouldn’t come to her. He mind drifted to other dreams, dreams of benevolent monks who wielded swords of light against evil, dreams of a mermaid who’d fallen in love with a ship captain, dreams of soaring over mountain ranges on wings sprouting from her back. Her musing was interrupted by the squeak of the window. Someone had opened it too quickly.

Dor yelped and looked to the window where an unfriendly face cloaked in heavy moonshadow sneered at her.

“What are you doing out here?” Elmira Gulch asked.

“Nothing,” Dor said quickly.

“Oh, the sisters are going to be so mad. Old Mary will cane you for this. She’ll probably do it in the refectory in front of everybody. Perhaps that’ll spark you.”

“No, please, you can’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, you weakling. Nobody tells me what I can and can’t do.”

Elmira was right. No one wanted to cross her. But she was still just an orphan girl, like the rest of them, and Dor knew a moment of indignant frustration.

“Except the sisters. We all saw Sister Ruth spank your bottom this morning. You squealed just like the rest of us.” Though the light was dim, Dor could see Elmira’s expression turn ugly and knew she’d let her mouth get her in trouble again.

“Maybe I’ll lock you out on the roof and the let the storm deal with you,” Elmira said.

Dor turned her attention to the horizon and chided herself. She’d meant to keep an eye on the storm, but while she’d been distracted in her own head, the storm had grown closer. She looked back to Elmira.

“No, please, I’m sorry.” She stood and made for the window carefully even as Elmira started to close it. “Please, you can’t,” Dor said, raising her voice, hoping someone inside would hear. For all she would be in trouble, it would be better than being locked out.

She got to the window just before it closed and stuck her fingers in the crack to keep it open. The window closed on her fingers and pinched them hard. Dor yelped and Elmira snickered.

“Maybe if you say you’re sorry, I won’t break them.” Elmira’s voice hissed through the narrow opening.

“I’m sorry,” Dor said quickly, pleadingly. “Really I am. Please.”

Elmira snickered, keeping her voice pitched low. “What was that, Dor? Say it again.”

“I’m sorry,” Dor repeated. “Please let me in. You can tell on me and I won’t deny it. Please let me in.” Dor pulled hard on the window and opened it several inches before Elmira pulled back. The metal frame pinched her fingers so hard she feared they’d be cut off.

“I’m not sure I heard you,” Elmira said.

Dor groaned with fear and humiliation. She leaned back, grit her teeth, and jerked at the window. There was a moment of resistance and Dor despaired. Then the resistance was gone and the window swung open. Dor lost her grip on it and stumbled backward. The pitch of the roof was too much. She slipped, landing hard on her back and slid across the shingles. There was nothing to grab on to. She knew a moment of weightlessness, her body suspended upon nothing as she went over the edge.

Stunned, Dor couldn’t scream; she could only stare at the fat, yellow moon overhead. Her shoulders flared with pain, and her world exploded into mind-numbing, sense-shattering, body-crushing chaos.

Chapter Text

The first thing Dor noticed was she wasn’t dead. She was sore, she was shaken, but she was not dead. She spent several moments trying to determine how best to confirm her living status, as though breathing, hurting, and thinking weren’t enough. Eventually, she decided to open her eyes.

Her gaze was met by a pair of large, deep purple eyes set in a delicate equine face covered with soft, lavender fur and topped with a spiral horn. It was a unicorn. Dor let out a high, sharp scream. The unicorn snorted in surprise and backed up several paces. Dor sat up and blinked her bleary eyes in an attempt to coax the truth from them. Despite her attempt, the purple unicorn remained.

“Where am I?” Dor said, even as she looked around.

Dor had never been in a forest before, but she’d read about them. This one was deep and dim. The trees had trunks bigger around than a man could have encircled with his arms. The leaves were broad and the canopy painted everything in a greenish grey light.

“This is the Everfree Forest,” said the unicorn.

Dor blinked at the creature again, certain she was going mad. It was definitely a horse, though a small one, only about three and a half feet high at the shoulder, so a pony perhaps? Not that Dor knew a lot about the differences between horses and ponies. The unicorn had purple fur and a dark purple mane and tail shot through with a bright pink streak. She was definitely a unicorn and she had definitely spoken in English.

“Um, hello?” said Dor. “Are you talking to me?”

“You did ask me a question,” said the unicorn.

“Yes. I suppose… I suppose I did. Um… I’m sorry, is this real? Are you really a talking purple unicorn?”

The purple unicorn cocked her head, “I am a unicorn, and my fur is purple, and I can definitely talk, so yes. Yes I am.”

“Of course, my hallucination would say it exists,” Dor said.

The unicorn laughed but not in a derisive way. Her laugh was high and cheery and genuine. “It sounds like you’re having a tough day. Why don’t we start over? My name is Twilight Sparkle. What’s yours?”

“Dor.”

The unicorn’s eyebrow quirked in question. “Door?”

“It’s short for Dorothy. Actually, it’s short for Dorothy Alice Wendy, but you can call me Dor.”

“Nice to meet you, Dor. Next question: what are you?” The unicorn smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, that’s rude, but you don’t look like anypony I’ve ever seen or read about. And I’ve read a lot.”

“That’s all right. I’m a human.”

“What’s a human?”

“I am.”

The unicorn laughed. “Right. Of course. Princess Celestia told me there were would be some unexpected phenomena on this assignment. I suppose you’re one of those phenomena.”

“I suppose so. Uh… who’s Princess Celestia?”

“Are you serious? You’re really not from Equestria, are you?”

Dor bit her lip and shook her head.

“Hmm.” Twilight Sparkle cocked her head. “Well then, I guess you’ll just have to come with me. I can’t send you to Ponyville on your own; the Everfree Forest can be a bit treacherous. If you come with me, I can protect you and you can keep me company. What do you say?”

Dor smiled. She pushed herself to her feet and winced as the fingers of her right hand ached. She’d been so engrossed with meeting Twilight Sparkle that she’d forgotten Elmira Gulch had closed her fingers in the window. She stretched her fingers and clenched them. They were sore and bruised, but nothing seemed broken. She brushed dirt from her nightgown and nodded at the unicorn. Twilight Sparkle had been more friendly in five minutes than anyone Dor had known her whole llife. A real friend paired with an actual adventure was too much to pass up.

“You can explain to me about Equestria and I can explain to you about humans.”

The unicorn smiled at her.

Twilight Sparkle led the way through the forest. Occasionally her horn would glow and she explained that Princess Celestia had sent her on a quest to retrieve an item causing something called ‘planar ripples’ across this region of Equestria. Planar ripples were magical in nature and Twilight Sparkle, being a unicorn especially attuned to magic, could use her magic to detect them.

Dor explained that where she came from humans were the only sapient species and that unicorns were creatures of myth and legend. She explained that yes humans typically wore clothes and they didn’t have cutie marks and, until now, she would have said magic wasn’t real. She explained that she was an orphan, that she had an overactive imagination, and that she loved to read.

“Me too,” Twilight Sparkle enthused. “I live in Golden Oak library in Ponyville.”

“You live in a library? How wonderful. There’s a small library at St. Bridget’s, but the sisters don’t really encourage reading.”

“Why have a library if they don’t want you to read?”

Dor had never considered that, but Twilight was right. It was strange. “Huh. I don’t know.”

“Well, when we’re done here, you can come and read as much as you like,” Twilight Sparkle said.

Twilight Sparkle explained that Princess Celestia ruled over Equestria with her sister Princess Luna. She explained that there were three kinds of pony: unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies. She explained that cutie marks manifested on a pony’s flank at coming of age, that they were unique, and displayed personality, talent, or proclivity. Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark, Dor noted, was a pink, six-pointed star surrounded by five, smaller, six-pointed stars. She supposed it represented magic. Dor rubbed her right hip with her bruised fingers through her thin nightgown. She wondered what her cutie mark might have been had she been born a pony on Equestria.

After hiking for nearly an hour, Dor was winded. She wished she’d had time to prepare of her impromptu adventure as bare feet and a nightgown made for poor hiking attire. Her feet were sore, her fingers ached, and she was beginning to think she wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing.

Dor was about to ask Twilight Sparkle if they could rest for a while, when she caught a shadow slinking through the trees from the corner of her eye. She stopped and looked, but saw nothing.

“Um… Twilight?”

“Hold still,” Twilight whispered, voice urgent.

A trio of creatures stalked onto the path ahead of them. They looked like a kind of dog with dark brown, treebark-like hides. Their eyes glowed an unearthly green and they growled low and menacing.

Dor gasped, sore feet all but forgotten.

“Timberwolves! Stay behind me, Dor,” Twilight Sparkle said.

Dor nodded and edged to the side so the purple unicorn was between her and the wolves.

“Listen up, you three. I’m on a mission for Princess Celestia. Stay back!” Twilight Sparkle said, her voice ringing through the forest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The lead timberwolf approached slowly while the other two spread out, flanking the unicorn and Dor from either side.

“I don’t suppose secretly you’re some kind of superhero or battle mage?” Twilight Sparkle said.

Dor swallowed hard. She often dreamed of being a hero, like Sherlock Holmes or Tarzan or Jane Eyre, but here, confronted with danger, she found she was nothing but a scared little girl in a nightgown.

The middle wolf leapt and Twilight Sparkle lowered her horn. A bright beam of purple light burst from it. The light struck the timberwolf on its wood-hide chest and knocked it away like a doll tossed across a room. It yelped piteously and Dor winced. The wolf on their right took the opportunity to dart in, sharp teeth snapping. Twilight Sparkle pivoted and kicked out with her hind feet. The timberwolf tried to dodge back but was caught a glancing blow and stumbled away.

The third wolf lunged at Twilight Sparkle, and for a moment Dor thought the wolf would sink its terrible fangs into the unicorn’s breast, but there was a crack of magic and the unicorn disappeared in a blink of light, reappearing several feet away.

Dor felt a tingle along her shoulders that flowed up her neck and coalesced at the base of her skull. She felt a fuzzy, expanding awareness that reminded her of the moment just before waking. It felt like something new, something learned.

Twilight Sparkle lowered her horn and another burst of energy slammed into the wolf, knocking it back, tumbling it over the forest floor.

For several moments, nothing happened.

Then Twilight Sparkle let out an explosive breath and shook herself, purple mane scattering wildly. Dor shivered.

Twilight Sparkle stood up straight. “Come on,” she said, faintly breathless. “I think we’re near the anomaly. Timberwolves are attracted to the scent of magic.”

But the second wolf, the one Twilight had kicked, suddenly burst from the shadows. Dor reacted before she could stop herself. She snatched up a rock from the forest floor and flung it with all her might at the creature. With luck, she struck it upon its flank. Bits of bark-hide splintered. It grunted and staggered, surprised, turning its attention to Dor.

Twilight Sparkle pivoted and pointed her horn at the last wolf threateningly.

The wolf looked from Dor to Twilight and, with a growl of frustration, scampered away.

“Thank you,” said Twilight Sparkle, still looking where the timberwolf had fled, cautious.

Dor nodded.

Twilight and Dor hurried through the forest, Twilight’s horn pulsing with urgent purple light as they grew near. After a few minutes more, Dor noticed a subtle shift in the woods. She didn’t know much about woods or trees or nature in general, it was more like a feeling, a tingle at her shoulders suggesting something was different, something was new, something about the Everfree Forest had changed.

“Up there,” Twilight whispered. “I can feel it. Its… foreign magic.”

“Is it dangerous?” Dor asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s go find out.” She shot Dor a grin and Dor grinned back.

In a hollow of a tree trunk, they found a silver diadem. The hollow was at head height for Dor, but Twilight had to go upon her hind hooves and put her fore-hooves on the trunk to see in.

The diadem was silver with a bright blue, many-faceted gemstone at its center. On a silver chain, dangling from the central gemstone were two paler blue gemstones that would rest upon a wearer’s forehead. Filigree supported a swirl of bright, clear diamonds on either side of the central stone. Inscribed upon the diadem was a phrase:

Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.

Dor reached for it without thinking.

“Don’t touch it,” said Twilight Sparkle. “It could be harmless, but you should always be careful with magical artifacts.”

“Right,” said Dor, pulling her hand back. “So, how do we retrieve it for your princess?”

“Like this.” Twilight Sparkle’s horn flared and purple magic enveloped the diadem and lifted it to hover just over the unicorn’s right shoulder.

The sun set as they trekked back through the Everfree Forest. And though the shadows and sounds of a deep, dark forest at night were frightening, Dor had the bright light and warm company of Twilight Sparkle to keep her fear at bay. Twilight Sparkle told Dor all about her friends, cheerful Pinkie Pie and bashful Fluttershy; proud Rainbow Dash and elegant Rarity; down-to-earth Applejack and loyal Spike. She told Dor about their first adventure together, confronting the evil Nightmare Moon only to free her from her bondage to darkness, revealing she was Princess Luna, sister to Princess Celestia.

By the time the story was done, they had left the forest behind, and Dor could see the lights of a town ahead. A grateful wave of exhaustion overcame her. She hadn’t had time to prepare for the unexpected journey. Her bare feet were scraped, bruised, and sore from trekking through the forest, and though she was used to long hours of hard chores at the orphanage, she was not used to walking all day or being attacked by wolves.

“Um, Twilight, I don’t suppose I could stay with you this evening? I don’t know how to get home and I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Of course,” said Twilight Sparkle. “You just helped me on a quest assigned by Princess Celestia herself. You can stay with me, as long as you like.

Dor blushed. “I didn’t do all that much.”

“You acted at just the right moment. More importantly, you kept me company, showing friendship to someone you’d just met” said Twilight Sparkle. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Spike. I told you about him, he’s my dragon assistant; he lives with me in Golden Oak library. Then we can get a bite to eat and get some rest.”

Dinner and bed sounded wonderful. Dor felt she might faint from the anticipation of the opportunity to rest.

They were nearly to town when, with a creek of ropes and a groan of timber, a great shadow descended upon them. Dor gasped and backed up several steps. Twilight snorted and reared in surprise. As it settled, Dor realized it was a hot air balloon. She’d seen one once, from a distance.

There was no one in the basket of the vehicle, so Dor presumed it was propelled by magic. Even in the moonlight, she could tell it was brightly colored. The basket was upholstered in soft pink fabric, the balloon itself was purple and decorated with swirls and stars.

“Oh,” said Twilight Sparkle. “This belongs to the princess.” She approached the basket, Dor right behind her. A note was pinned to the side of the basket, and by the light of Twilight Sparkle’s horn, they read it.

My dearest student, Twilight Sparkle,

Please bring the object you have recovered to me at once. The object itself is not dangerous, but its existence upon this plane is disrupting the local magic. Please also invite the young planeswalker to come along. I would like to speak with her.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

Dor swallowed hard and her backside tingled unpleasantly. “Am I in trouble?”

“What? No, why would you be in trouble?”

“It’s just that, when Sister Mary Margaret calls me to her study, that means I’m in trouble.”

“Dorothy, you’ve done nothing wrong. If necessary, I would be happy to speak on your behalf.”

A muted flash of pale green light caught their attention. Writing appeared upon the note in green light, slowly fading.

P.S.

There’s dinner and blankets in the basket. I know you’ve had a long day.

“How nice,” said Dor.

“The princess is quite thoughtful.”

Dor pulled open the basket door and they climbed aboard. Suspended upon an array of poles was a metal cylinder. Once they were on board and the door secured, a gentle roar of flames erupted from the metal cylinder. Dor shrank back but relaxed when she realized the heat from the flame gave the balloon lift. The balloon took flight with a gentle sway and they were off, all without Twilight Sparkle or Dor having to do a thing.

“Magic,” Dor whispered.

“Of course,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Even after everything that’s happened today, I can hardly believe… it’s just incredible.” 

There was a picnic basket filled with piping hot savory vegetable pie, fresh apples and carrots, and honeyed oat cakes. Folded neatly under the picnic basket was a pair of thick comforters.

They ate hungrily and the food was quickly gone.

“How long will it take to get there?” Dor asked.

“It generally takes a few hours,” said Twilight Sparkle with a yawn. “We’ve got time for a nap.” Her horn sparkled and the bright pink comforter unfurled and draped over her back as she settled to the floor.

Dor pulled the purple comforter over herself as she leaned back against the wall of the basket. She stared past the edge of the balloon to the clear night sky beyond. She couldn’t have differentiated the stars of this world from her own, but she knew they must be different. She wondered if, out there somewhere in that star-spangled void, her own sun, her own world, drifted peacefully through the cosmos. 

Dor had never before woken in such a luxurious bed. The mattress was soft and deep, the covers were thick and cool, the pillows were fluffy and numerous. She thought at first she must be dreaming, that at any moment her narrow, threadbare bed at St. Bridget’s would appear beneath her. But after several moments of blinking away the sleep, she remembered the Everfree Forest, Twilight Sparkle, and the silver diadem. This, she realized, must be Canterlot and she was in the palace of the princesses.

She pushed the covers back and sat up only to realize she was not dressed. She had fallen off the roof of St. Bridget’s clad only in her nightgown and though it had proven inadequate adventuring garb, it had, at least, been clothing. She blushed furiously even as she realized Twilight Sparkle had been naked the whole adventure, that perhaps it was common for the horse-like folk of Equestria, to go about naked all the time.

As she cast her gaze about, Dor found her nightgown folded neatly on the end table. She pulled it on and noted it felt soft and clean and smelled faintly of citrus soap.

At a knock at her door, Dor shrank back but caught herself.

“I have to stop doing that,” she whispered. “I can’t flinch at everything. There’s no reason to be afraid. Nobody here wants to hurt me, and if they do, I’ve got a magical unicorn on my side.” She took a deep breath, trying to convince herself of her own words.

With another deep breath, to bolster her courage, Dor opened the door.

A horse stood on the other side. It was white with bright blue mane and tail and a stocky, squarish face, implying masculinity. Golden armor hid his cutie mark. He was taller than Twilight Sparkle, about four feet at the shoulder and had neither wings nor horn. This pony was clearly a royal guard.

The guard looked her up and down critically, then said, “You are Miss Dorothy?”

Dor swallowed hard and nodded. Despite her mental talking to, she couldn’t help but be nervous.

“Princess Celestia will see you now. Follow me.”

The halls of the palace were richly appointed: bright white walls and colorful stained-glass windows and a golden carpet. There were busts and statues of ponies with plaques, presumably to describe who they were and what they’d done. Dor didn’t have a chance to examine any of it, though she’d have loved to learn more about this land of talking ponies. The royal guard set a brisk pace and she hurried to keep up. Eventually, they came to a large door adorned with a golden sunburst.

The earth pony lifted his front right hoof and knocked politely. After a moment, the door opened to reveal a library with floor to ceiling shelves. The pony entered and Dor followed. “Your Majesty, I present Miss Dorothy.”

The pony who turned to face them was taller than the royal guard. At least five feet tall at the shoulder with a slim, regal bearing, Princess Celestia had bright white fur, horn, and wings, and a sunburst cutie mark upon her flank. Her mane and tail, rippling in an unseen breeze, was like a sparkling, pastel rainbow. Her wide, kind eyes were deep purple. She wore a golden tiara and collar, both adorned with amethysts.

“Thank you, that will be all,” said the princess.

The earth pony bowed to Princess Celestia and left, closing the door behind him.

Dor swallowed hard. Twilight Sparkle had insisted she wasn’t in trouble, but being alone with the princess certainly made her feel like she was in trouble.

“Oh, there you are,” chirped Twilight Sparkle from somewhere to her right.

Dor looked around and found the purple unicorn carrying a stack of books with her purple magic. Dor sighed, relieved.

“Princess, this is Dorothy Alice Wendy. She helped me recover the diadem.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dorothy Alice Wendy. I am Princess Celestia.”

Dor nodded and bowed, swallowing hard. “Yes, ma’am. You can call me Dor, if you want.”

The princess chuckled. “How entirely appropriate. Come join me. I have a few questions and I imagine you have many more than that.”

Bolstered by Twilight Sparkle’s presence, Dor joined the princess. The table was dark and well-polished. In the center of the table rested the silver diadem.

“Dor, do you know what this is?” the princess asked.

Dor shook her head. “I mean, it’s a diadem, a sort of crown. Kind of like you wear, but I’ve never seen one in person. I’ve read about them though. Certainly I’ve never seen this specific one before. But Twilight Sparkle said it’s not from here.”

The princess nodded. “Not only is it not from Equestria, it’s not from this plane of existence.”

“Ooh,” said Twilight. “You’re talking about the multiverse theory.”

“Precisely,” said the princess. “The multiverse theory says the plane of existence in which we reside is not the only one. Beyond our planet are stars and around some of them orbit other worlds. All of which exists within our plane of existence. With enough time and energy we could travel the space in between. But traveling between planes of existence is altogether different. Walking between planes requires a specific spark of magic. People who have that spark are called planeswalkers.

“Twilight tells me you come from another world, Dor. A world without magic.”

Dor nodded. “At least, I think so. I’m pretty sure if magical talking horses existed in my world, I’ve have heard about it before now. Also, I think I dreamt of this place once. Is that possible, Your Majesty?”

The elegant winged unicorn shrugged. “Perhaps. As far as I know, nopony of Equestria was ever a planeswalker. Though luminaries like Starswirl the Bearded theorized the existence of a multiverse, no one I’ve ever met or read claims to have experienced or confirmed it.”

“Until now,” said Twilight Sparkle.

Princess Celestia smiled. “Right. Until now.”

“What about the diadem then?” Dor asked. “Was it brought here by a planeswalker?”

Princess Celestia shook her head. “I don’t know. All I can say for certain is there was a strong magical disturbance when it arrived. Now, secure in my palace, the havoc it might have caused has been contained.”

“If it was my fault, I’m really sorry,” said Dor.

“Not at all,” said the princess. “It seems to me you are caught up in magic and circumstance with which you are unfamiliar. I sense that you are honest and kind, and I take you at your word.”

Dor gave another sigh of relief.

“Now, if there is no magic on your world, I suspect you don’t know how to get home. Is that correct?”

Dor nodded.

“I’m afraid I have matters of state to attend to, but Twilight Sparkle is my best student. She can help you.”

“Me?” said Twilight with a blush that darkened her purple-furred cheeks. “But I don’t know anything about traveling between planes of existence.”

Princess Celestia smiled and nodded. “Do you remember our earliest lessons? The most basic of magic is driven by mental focus and metaphor, instinct and imagination.”

Twilight Sparkle nodded. “I see.” She turned to Dor. “I can walk you through the basics and maybe your instinct of planeswalking will kick in.”

Dor nodded. “All right then.”

Princess Celestia left them and Twilight Sparkle led Dor to the back of the library and a small room with bare wooden floor and walls and with no furniture. When Twilight closed the door behind them, the room was dim, quiet, and close. Twilight settled herself on the floor, crossing her front hooves. Dor likewise sat cross-legged, facing the unicorn.

It was close and comfortable. Dor felt more comfortable in this world of talking ponies than she ever had at St. Bridget’s. Though the adventure had been unexpected and scary, Dor would rather go on a hundred more than return to the orphanage.

“Twilight? I… Would it maybe be all right if I didn’t learn to planeswalk?”

Twilight Sparkle gave her a quizzical look. “Why? Think of all the amazing places you could go and people you could meet and books you could read.”

Dor nodded. “It’s just… I don’t want to go back.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

Dor shook her head. “The orphanage isn’t really home. Not the way you read about in books. Sister Mary Margaret is… unkind.” Dor blushed.

“Well of course you don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. You can stay as long as you like. But you need to learn to use your magic. If you don’t, it will leak out, uncontrolled, and that can be dangerous.”

Dor nodded. “All right then.”

Twilight Sparkle smiled at her. “Let’s get started. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes, clear your mind, and focus. It’s common for those new to magic to take weeks, months even, to learn to take hold of their magic, so there’s no pressure to learn it on the first try. Take a deep… breath…”

Dor did as the unicorn told her, closing her eyes and taking deep, even, breaths.

“The basics of magic use are mental focus and imagination. Now, imagine a room in your mind, a safe place, a personal place, a place only you can access.”

Twilight Sparkle’s voice was soothing, like a cool drink on a hot day. Dor could feel the unicorn’s power tingling along her shoulders. She could feel the unicorn’s mind, bright and kind.

She imagined the room around them, wood-paneled walls, floor, and ceiling. Dim and quiet. No furniture. It was easy. Dor had always had a good imagination.

“Now, imagine a desk.”

There were desks in the orphanage classroom, a wooden plane on rude wooden legs accompanied by a bench where a pair of orphans sat to take notes and do school work. The image came readily to the imagined room.

“Do you see it?”

“I do,” Dor said, voice slurred.

“Very good. You have a strong imagination.”

“Is that important?”

“Yes. Anyone with the potential for magic can learn the words and the calculations and be a perfectly serviceable mage. But magic is driven by metaphor, and the better the imagination, the more powerful and creative the magic.”

Dor beamed.

“Now, I want you to imagine your magic. It can take whatever form you like, but it should be something important to you. Something with personal symbolism. Some see their magic as a bowl of water. Some see it as a blooming flower. I prefer…”

Dor immediately knew what symbol she would choose. For all that the sisters didn’t encourage reading, for all that she was spanked for her imagination, Dor always felt best when she was reading.

“… a book,” Dor and Twilight Sparkle said at the same time.

And it appeared on the floor of the room in her mind, a book bound in deep brown leather. There was no title, no marking of any kind. Dor opened the book and a spark of light spilled into her. In a sudden rush she could feel a connection to… everything. The multiverse spread before her, around her, through and among her. It was tumbling, mind-shattering chaos; it was cool, soothing nothing. It was speckled with points of… planes of existence she supposed.

“Goodness,” Twilight Sparkle murmured, “I’ve never seen…” Dor felt the unicorn mage looking through her like a telescope at the Blind Eternities and what might lie beyond.

The spark that lit the room in her mind filled her with confidence, tingling along her shoulders, and she reached for the space beyond. It pulled at her suddenly, and before she was ready, Dor fell through.

Chapter Text

Dor gasped into her self and found she sat on the roof of the orphanage, her back to the brick wall of the chimney. It was midmorning, the sky clear, the sun bright. Dor took several moments to assure herself she was where she seemed to be.

“Is that it?” she whispered. “I’m right back where I started. Was it real?”

Her shoulders tingled and the tingle spread down her right arm to her hand and when she looked, she found she held a playing card. It was a rectangular piece of thick, flexible paper. Except it wasn’t paper. It was too heavy to be paper, too smooth, too substantial to be a normal playing card. It felt both heavy and light, smooth and deep, pliable and magical. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before.

Displayed prominently upon the card, within a white border, was Twilight Sparkle, her whole body shimmering with magic, her horn glowing bright purple. At the top of the card was a title and below the art was a description.  

Twilight’s Blink

Cost: W

Type: Tribal Sorcery – Unicorn Instant

Text: Exile target creature you control, then return that creature to the battlefield under your control.

She didn’t understand it.

She could read it, knew what all the words meant, but she felt she was missing context. Even so, her shoulders tingled and she knew one thing for certain.

“It’s a magic spell,” she whispered.

The sound of the girls of the orphanage vibrated through the building. Dor realized, it was midmorning and she, having been gone for who knew how long, was in some pretty serious trouble. She made her way carefully across the roof to the window to find it closed and secured. She put her hands to either side of her eyes and peered in. She was both relieved and terrified to find Sister Ruth conducting her morning inspection of the orphans’ bedroom. Any orphan who had not made her bed, had not tidied her spot, would be in for a spanking before lunch.

Swallowing her fear, Dor knocked firmly on the window.

Sister Ruth startled.

After several moments of shocked indecision, Sister Ruth hurried to the window and opened it, making way for Dor to climb in.

“So this is where you’ve been,” Sister Ruth said, her scolding tone no less than Dor expected. “We thought you’d run away. Were you out on the roof for two days?”

Dor shook her head but didn’t know how to explain.

Sister Ruth took her by the shoulder firmly and marched her across the orphan’s bedroom. She smacked Dor’s backside several times as they crossed, and Dor yelped and cried no matter that she tried to be brave.

“Please, Sister Ruth, I didn’t mean to—“

“Didn’t mean to? You’ve been hiding on the roof for two days. How could you have not meant to?”

Dor bit her tongue. She wanted to defend herself but knew it was futile, so she let Sister Ruth hurry her to Sister Mary Margaret’s study without further comment except to cry out when Sister Ruth spanked her again.

Sister Ruth opened Sister Mary Margaret’s door and entered without knocking. Sister Mary Margaret looked up, annoyed, and for a moment Dor thought Sister Ruth was about to find herself on the end of a tongue-lashing. But then Sister Mary Margaret’s eyes lit upon Dor and went wide then turned firm.

“Where have you been, young lady?” Sister Mary Margaret’s voice was cold and hard, a veneer over the coming storm.

Dor took a breath to explain, but the explanation caught in her throat. How could she explain to Sister Mary Margaret about Equestria, Twilight Sparkle, the diadem, Princess Celestia, planeswalking, the multiverse… She couldn’t. Not without confirming to Sister Mary Margaret that she was a flighty dreamer who couldn’t stay on the righteous path.

Sister Mary Margaret slapped her palm against her desk. “Answer me, child!”

Dor sniffled and tears tracked down her cheeks. “Some of the other girls were teasing me. So I hid on the roof.” It was an explanation sure to get her spanked, but she was going to get spanked anyway.

“On the roof? You climbed out the window against express instruction?”

Dor nodded and cried harder, pale cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“No it will not.” Sister Mary Margaret emphasized each word with a slap at her desk. “Sister Ruth, fetch the cane from the cupboard.”

“No!” said Dor, desperate. “Please, I meant no harm.”

“Hold your tongue, child.”

Dor didn’t say anything as Sister Mary Margaret came out from around her desk and took her by the shoulder. She didn’t say anything as Sister Ruth went to the cabinet in the corner and retrieved the long, pale yellow cane. She didn’t say anything as Sister Mary Margaret pushed her down over the desk and pulled her nightgown up to her armpits.

“Your rebelliousness is an affront to this institution, to me, and to God. You will learn to behave and you will learn to obey. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sister,” Dor said through her tears.

The cane whistled as it cut the air. Dor flinched before it struck her. She cried out, throat raw, as the line of fire marked her naked backside.

“A proper penitent submits herself to the chastisement of God,” Sister Mary Margaret said, as she swung the cane and lit another stripe of fire.

Dor wailed.

“A proper penitent does not resist. She need not be held down and she does not cry out.”

Sister Mary Margaret caned her again and Dor bit back a sob though she couldn’t help but try to squirm out from under Sister Mary Margaret’s heavy hand on her back.

“You will learn, child. You will learn if I must cane you daily!”

She brought the cane down again and Dor wailed. Her whole body was afire and she could do nothing to quell it. Her mind was broken, her soul shattered. She felt each blow of the cane keenly, and though she knew Sister Mary Margaret wanted her to take it submissively, quietly, she couldn’t help but try to escape, to make it stop.

Amid the broken, fiery chaos of her thoughts, there was a pinpoint of soft light. A spark of pale purple magic. She clung to it. She brought it hard to her chest and tried to cover herself in it. Unbidden, the image of the room came to her mind, the room where, only minutes ago, she had sat with Twilight Sparkle, her friend. The room was dim and quiet, contrasting the fire of the cane.

That spark of magic reminded her of the card she’d held on the rooftop. She wondered what happened to it. Her nightgown had no pockets and she didn’t remember setting it down. But clearly she no longer held it. And as she thought of it, the card appeared in her mind, laying upon the floor of the imaginary room.

[Twilight’s Blink].

Her mind filled with that spark, that magic. Her chest blossomed with it. Her skin vibrated with it. And in the next moment, the magic spilled from her and the mental playing card shone in her mind before disappearing in a shower of purple sparkles and a crack of magic.

Dor blinked and looked around herself. She was still in Sister Mary Margaret’s study. Sister Ruth stood against one wall, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with horror. Sister Mary Margaret stood at her desk, left hand braced upon it, right hand clutching the cane. She too stared at Dor, stunned.

“What was that?” Sister Mary Margaret hissed.

“What?” said Dor. “What happened?”

“Don’t mock me, child. What did you do? Was that magic? Are you in league with the Devil?”

“I didn’t do anything,” said Dor.

“You’re lying! You ran away to consort with demons, and you’ve come back with magic.” Sister Mary Margaret brandished her cane like a sword. “Get out!” she screeched. “Get out demon, foul witch, devil’s whore!”

In a blind panic, Dor backed to the study door, groped behind her for the handle, twisted it open, and fled.

She sprinted down the hall to the stairs and thumped down them, bumping into the wall with her shoulder where the stairs made a hairpin turn. She was nearly to the bottom ready to burst out the front doors and run away forever, when Elmira Gulch suddenly stood in her way. Dor came to a scrambling halt. Her reversal of momentum landed her hard on the stairs, her bottom aching from the blow atop her cane-stripes.

Elmira grinned at Dor under her hooked nose, black eyes aglitter.

“So, you finally sparked, did you? What plane did you travel to?”

“What do you… how do you…”

“My master will want to see you now. Will you come quietly, or are you going to put up a fight?”

Dor scrambled to her feet and backed up the stairs as Elmira stalked up after her.

“I very much hope you’ll put up a fight.”

Dor turned and fled, Elmira’s cackle chasing her up the stairs. At the top, she met Sister Mary Margaret coming down after her. The headmistress of St. Bridget’s Orphanage was shocked when Dor came around the hairpin turn and charged up at her. She backed up, eyes wide, and Dor took the opportunity to squeeze past her, shouldering her aside when there wasn’t enough room.

Sister Mary Margaret screeched as she toppled.

Dor sprinted down the hall to the next set of stairs leading to the orphans’ bedroom. She passed other orphans on her way, girls she had known for years, but who she’d never made friends with. Dor was the weird one, the dreamy one, the one who was spanked for her imagination, and they feared being caught up in her strange, impassioned, dreaming.

She hurried up the stairs to the attic bedroom, feeling Elmira close on her heels. She slammed the bedroom door closed behind her. She knew it wouldn’t stop the other girl for long, but maybe it’d be long enough.  A desperate idea had caught hold of her and she just needed a little time.

Elmira screeched with rage that shook the building.

Dor ran to the window and wrenched it open, looking over her shoulder as she lost precious seconds.

The door opened with a bang, and Elmira Gulch stalked in, eyes glowing a furious orange, teeth bared in a manic grin. Elmira looked like a regular girl, but Dor knew there was more to her. She’d spoken of a master, she knew Dor had planeswalked.

The window came unlatched. Dor pushed hard and threw herself over the sill onto the roof where she tumbled. She didn’t try to gain her feet. She let herself roll down the shingles, clamping her eyes shut, reaching through the room in her mind for that spark of power that would throw her between planes, back to Equestria and the only friend she’d ever made.

Chapter Text

The sand shifts constantly, moved by the tide and the wind, but also by creatures scurrying across or burrowing beneath. Subtler effects—compression, temperature change—also make their mark. Sometimes the grains cling together, weathering as a single stone until broken apart.

Now, imagine each grain of sand is its own plane of existence, and you begin to get a picture of how Dominia works. Dominia is a Multiverse, a collection of universes. Usually, the inhabitants of a particular plane have no interaction with the other universes; they live out their lives believing that their homeplane is the ‘One World’, that their universe is the ‘One Universe’.

A small number of the Multiverse's inhabitants, however, are fully aware of the existence of worlds, universes, planes of existence outside their own. They have learned to travel between planes and to tap their resources.

They’re called planeswalkers.

The simplest form of planeswalking is to travel between touching planes, moving through the space between, the Blind Eternities. If two planes in the Multiverse touch, a planeswalker familiar with both can usually travel from anywhere on one to anywhere on the other. Of course, experienced planeswalkers can control where they arrive better than less experienced ones. A planeswalker can also travel between worlds that don't touch through experience, guidance, or luck. However, if the region is unfamiliar, or the paths between planes unstable, the planeswalker may travel astray.

Anything you can conceive of can be found in the Multiverse—but it is as hard to find a specific plane as it is to find a specific grain of sand on an ever-shifting beach.

Chapter Text

Dor stumbled from the formless Blind Eternities onto a broad, smooth intersection of roadways. Massive towers surrounded her on all sides, buildings of stone and glass and metal. They stood silent and colossal, lit from within, under a dark, overcast sky. Dor turned slowly, taking it in. The towers were ten times as tall as any building she’d ever seen. Brightly painted metal carriages stood silent and waiting along the sides of the roadway. Metal poles stood at regular intervals, topped with glass cages, casting light upon the roadway. A cacophony of sound babbled about her, the sound of a city refusing to sleep.

It was like Asgard or Olympus, a great city of massive towers.

Dor wiped the tears from her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Her bottom still throbbed, but the fire of the stripes paled compared to the wonder of the city around her.

A scuffle and a grunt drew her attention from the grandeur of the city to a dim, dingy, alleyway on her left. Dor stepped up to the alleyway threshold and wrinkled her nose at the smell of damp rot.

“Hey, psst! Over here.”

Dor looked around, but there was no one on this stretch of street but her.

“No. This way.”

Dor peered into the dark of the alleyway and could just barely discern the outline of a person peeking from behind a large metal box in the indirect light of the streetlamps.

“Are they chasing you too?” the shadowy outline asked. It sounded like the voice of a girl. “The robots, are they chasing you?”

“The… the what?” Dor stammered.

“Come on. They’ll see you out there.”

Spurred by the fear in the other girl’s voice, Dor hurried into the dark alley way. On the other side of the metal box, she found a slim girl with dark hair and threadbare clothes.

“You’re a mutant, right?” said the other girl. “I saw you appear out of thin air. Is that your power?”

“I don’t really…” Dor trailed off.

“It’s okay. I’m new to this too. I didn’t know I was a mutant until just last week. Next thing I know I get home from school and there’s a robot spider in my bedroom.”

“Robot spider?” Dor didn’t know what a robot was, but she wasn’t fond of spiders.

“They’re horrible, aren’t they? I was only able to get away because my powers worked all of a sudden. First time they did something useful. What about you? Do you know how to control yours?”

Dor shook her head. “I was just starting to learn.”

“I hear there’s a place upstate. A sort of school where they teach mutants how to use their powers. That’s where I’m gonna go.”

Dor nodded. She didn’t know where she was or who this girl was, but she understood having to run away. After several moments of silence, Dor felt the other girl relax.

“I haven’t seen any for a while. Maybe we lost ‘em. My name’s Jubilation Lee, but you can call me Jubilee if you want.” Jubilee stuck her hand out.

“Dorothy Alice Wendy. People call me Dor.” Dor took Jubilee’s hand and they shook firmly.

A horseless carriage rolled to the entrance of their alleyway. Jubilee and Dor peered around their metal box to see it stop, blocking the way. Jubilee gasped and darted out of sight. Dor followed her lead just before a beam of light, bright as day, pierced the dim alley. Dor pressed her shoulders into the brick wall, hoping the metal box was enough to hide them.

“Police,” Jubilee whispered.

Dor knew a moment of relief. The constabulary should be able to help them.

“We can tell them about the spiders.”

Jubilee grabbed her wrist. “No. They’re with the Sentinel Services. You can’t trust the police.”

Dor shivered at the thought. The authorities were meant to help average folks. That here, in this world, Jubilee was afraid of them, made Dor think she’d come to a terrifying world. She trusted Jubilee’s caution and stayed hidden.

After a while the light shut off and the carriage rolled on.

“Come on,” said Jubilee. “This way.”

Dor let Jubilee lead her further down the alley and was quickly lost in the twists and turns. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a bus station over here somewhere. I’ve got fifty bucks. That’s enough for a ticket to Richford.” She looked at Dor. “Do you have any money?”

Dor shook her head and blinked back tears, feeling woefully unprepared for her misadventure.  

Jubilee shrugged. “Well, twenty-five is enough for two tickets to Kingston.”

“You’d take me with you?”

“Of course. Us muties gotta stick together.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dor. “But I’m not really from around here. What’s a mutie?”

“You know, a mutant. People born different. Like us.”

“Oh.”

They walked in silence for a while. Dor’s bare feet were sore and the hard pavement of this city was rough against them. She had so many questions. How had she ended up here instead of Equestria? How had Elmira known about planeswalking? What was she going to do now?

The creature dropped on them without warning.

It was many-legged with a spherical body and a piercing red eye of light. Its metal skin reflected what little light made its way to the ally. Dor leapt with fright, arms tight to her chest. Jubilee yelped and stumbled back, but the spider snatched at her and caught her ankle. Jubilee fell to her knees, crying out. Dor reached for her and their hands closed over one another. Dor pulled at the other girl, but the metal spider’s feet dug into the pavement, holding fast.

“Help me!” Jubilee cried.

Dor’s heart hammered, her chest ached, her bottom throbbed from a spanking less than an hour gone and farther away than possible. It reminded her of the magic spell in the guise of a playing card. [Twilight’s Blink]. The card sprang to mind and she could see it, heavy in her thoughts, as though she stood in a bare, quiet room without distraction. She took hold of it with mental fingers, shaking from fear and excitement, and she felt it respond.

Her shoulders tingled.

With a crack of magic, Dor and Jubilee teleported several feet away. Jubilee scrambled to her feet, clutching Dor close, breathing hard. The metal spider stumbled and whirred, its red-light eye spinning about to find them.

“Stay back!” Jubilee warned, thrusting one hand at the creature. Sparks danced along her fingertips, blue and yellow and pink, tiny explosions lighting the alleyway.

The metal spider sprang at them.

The sparks at Jubilee’s fingertips leapt to meet it in a shower of bright lights and whistling explosions. The metal spider tumbled to the pavement in a cacophony, legs twisted. Its red-light eye sparked and winked out.

A tingle tickled the base of Dor’s neck and the image of a white-bordered card flickered in her mind.

Jubilee’s Dazzler

Cost:    1W

Type:    Enchantment – Instant Aura

Text:     Enchant non-land permanent

Enchanted permanent cannot attack, block, or activate abilities.

Vanishing 2 (This permanent comes into play with two time counters on it. At the beginning of your upkeep, remove a time counter from it. When the last is removed, sacrifice it.)

“Wow,” said Dor. She shivered and shook her head, blinking the afterimage of sparks from her vision.

Jubilee let go of Dor like she’d been burned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Dor shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. That was amazing.”

“It was?”

“Of course. You’re marvelous, Jubilee.”

Jubilee swallowed hard, then gestured at the metal spider. “That won’t last long, and there’ll be more of them. We need to hide.” Jubilee grabbed Dor’s hand. “Come on, this way.” She hurried them down the alleyway to a rusted metal door in the brick wall on their left. There was a handle and Jubilee tugged on it, but it didn’t budge.

“Shit,” Jubilee muttered.

Dor blushed at the language.

A screech and a whirr just behind them pierced the shadows and a blood-red light painted the wall in front of them, leaving their shadows in stark outline. Dor didn’t need to turn to realize another metal spider had found them. In her moment of panic, [Twilight’s Blink] flickered through her mind again. Before she could think, with a crack of magic, they were on the other side of the door.

Jubilee yelped and spun around then gave a shaky sigh of relief. “Nice job, Dor.”

Their victory was short lived. The metal spider pounded at the door hard enough to leave a dent as big around as a head.

“We have to hide,” said Jubilee. Dor let the other girl lead her though the shadowy hallway. The floor under her feet was smooth and cold and dusty.

The metal spider continued to pound on the door, spurring them on.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Dor asked.

“Just need to find a spot to hide. Hiding worked last time.”  

After several more twists and turns, they found what looked like an old office, with an L-shaped desk, a dusty chair, and a narrow door that looked like a closet.

Jubilee looked at Dor. “What do you think?”

Dor shrugged in the darkness. “No idea.”

Two loud bangs in quick succession told them the large metal door they’d teleported past had been knocked off its hinges. Dor closed the office door while Jubilee opened the closet door. They hurried inside and closed the door. It was absolute darkness in the closet. Dor put her back to the closet wall and slid to sit, whimpering faintly. It hadn’t been more than an hour since Sister Mary Margaret had beat her naked backside with that horrible cane, and though recent events had distracted her, it still hurt. Jubilee sat next to her and took hold of her arm. They tried to breathe silently, to make no movement.

After several minutes of straining to listen, they heard the clicking footsteps of the metal spider, slow and measured. Jubilee squeezed Dor’s arm tighter as the footsteps approached, then eased off as the footsteps receded.

“Should we make a break for it?” Jubilee whispered, barely above a breath.

Dor shook her head. “What if it comes back?”

A few minutes later it did. The meticulous clinking footsteps approached and receded, approached and receded. Several minutes later they heard it on the floor above clicking away in monotonous rhythm, then again, then again.

Eventually Dor felt herself fighting to stay awake. Jubilee’s grip on her arm had gone slack and her head rested on Dor’s shoulder. When she could fight it no longer, Dor braced her feet against the door of the closet, rested her head on Jubilee’s, and let sleep take her.

She jerked to when Jubilee whispered, “I think it’s gone.”

“How long have we been asleep?”

“No idea. I left my phone at home. I’ve heard Sentinel Services can track smartphones.”

Dor blinked at that. “Your… phone? Like a telephone?” The orphanage didn’t have a telephone, but she’d heard about them. They were rare, expensive, and had nothing to do with telling time.

“Yeah. You know, my smartphone?”

Dor shook her head. “When I told you I’m not from around here…” she hesitated a moment before reminding herself she was trusting Jubilee with her safety and vice versa. “I’m… I’m not from this world. This plane of existence.”

“Really? Then why do you look human and speak English?”

“Oh. Um. Well, I am human. And English is spoken where I come from too.”

“Where’s that?”

“St. Bridget’s Orphanage in Wakefield, Quebec.”

“Quebec. Like in Canada?”

“You know about Canada?”

“Sure. We’re in New York City. Do you know it?”

“Of course, but… but this city is so big and... and tall. It’s like something out of a Jules Verne book.”

“Oh. Maybe you’re a time traveler. What year is it?”

“Nineteen-o’eight?”

Jubilee chuckled. “Try Twenty-fifteen.”

Dor shook her head. She was over one-hundred years in the future. Was this her homeplane? Perhaps she was on another version of Earth.

“Well I definitely went to a world of talking horses before I came here,” Dor said.

“Wait, what?”

Briefly Dor explained Equestria, Twilight Sparkle, and their little adventure.

“Wow. Really? You’re… you’re not just teasing me?”

“I would never do that,” said Dor. “I mean, I’m all for making up stories, but not in a situation like this.”

Several moments of silence stretched between them.

“What’s it like, being an orphan in Canada a billion years ago?” Jubilee asked.

Dor hunched her shoulders. “Miserable. I mean, we’re not starved, we’re not slaves—I’ve heard that happens in some orphanages, but Sister Mary Margaret, the headmistress, she hates imagination and I’ve got more than enough for ten girls. She thinks everything I do is an affront to God, and she spanks really hard. She keeps a cane in the cupboard in her office.”

Several more moments of silence filled the darkness. Dor felt Jubilee shift uncomfortably. She worried she’d shared too much, that Jubilee wasn’t interested in her personal travails.

“How can anyone hate imagination? Imagination is the best,” said Jubilee. She nudged Dor’s shoulder companionably.

“I’m glad I met you, even though our circumstances are dire,” Dor said.

“I’m glad I met you too.”

“What about you?” asked Dor. “What was it like before the metal spiders came?”

Jubilee sniffled. “I’m an orphan too. I was put in the system when I was six and I’ve had thirteen foster homes since. There’ve been some good ones and some bad ones. Mr. Peterson, he spanked us pretty hard too. Used to pull my panties down. Mrs. Stockert was a bit of a slave driver. The most recent ones, the Bookcliffs, they were pretty good. No spankings, reasonable chores, helped me with my math homework, but I don’t think it was going to work out.”

“Why not?”

Jubilee shrugged. “Nobody wants to keep me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal,” said Jubilee. “Once we find our way to the school upstate, everything will be better.”

Another stretch of silence filled the space. 

Dor’s tummy grumbled audibly. Jubilee giggled, then her stomach rumbled to rival Dor’s. For several moments they tried to control their giggles, at once amused and terrified. When they had their giggles under control, Jubilee shifted and shimmied until she pulled a crinkly object from her pocket.

“I’ve got a strawberry poptart. Do they have strawberry poptarts where you come from?”

Dor shook her head. “I know what a strawberry is, and I know what a tart is, but I get the impression this is something different.”

“Here.” Jubilee tore open the package and pressed an item into Dor’s hand.

Letting hunger drive her, Dor bit into it. It had the consistency of a thick cake and was far sweeter than anything Dor had eaten before. It tasted vaguely of strawberries, but mostly of sweetness.

“What do you think?” said Jubilee around her mouthful.

“It certainly is different,” said Dor. “Thank you for sharing your food with me.”

“No problem.”

Eventually, Dor said, "Do you think it's safe?"

Jubilee sighed. "It's that, or hide in this closet forever." 

Quietly as they could, trepidation dogging their every step, the girls slipped from the office past the battered down door and into the alleyway. It was dark, but pre-dawn lightened the sky. 

"So far, so good," Jubilee said. She looked around for a few moments, then pointed. "The bus station is that way. I think." 

"Excellent. Let’s make haste." 

Before they'd taken a step, clicking metallic footsteps scurried over the side of a building only a few yards away. Metal spiders scampered down the wall, red-light eyes training on the girls.

"Shit," Jubilee muttered. “They were waiting for us.”

“Run,” Dor whispered. 

Jubilee spun but took only a step before she put her back hard against Dor’s. “We’re surrounded. Can you teleport us again?”

Dor tried to focus, tried to reach for [Twilight’s Blink], for the room in her mind, but she was tired and scared and couldn’t focus. She swallowed hard. “I don’t think so. Can you blast them?” She felt Jubilee shake her head.

The spiders slowed, cautious. But there were dozens of them.

“Duck!”

The voice shouted in their minds, and Dor flattened herself to the pavement before she could wonder who had shouted and whether or not to trust them. In the next moment, ruby light streaked through the darkness, cutting an arc through the metal spiders, knocking them back and breaking them apart.

“Get up, hurry.”

The mental voice was kind but firm, calm but insistent. Dor and Jubilee stood. They looked back the way they’d come and found their saviors. The man was tall and svelte, with wavy brown hair and a ruby red visor over his eyes. The woman was slim with long auburn hair. Both were clad in form-fitting, black uniforms.

“This way.” The auburn woman gestured.

Dor looked at Jubilee who looked at her.

“What do we do?” Jubilee said.

“Well, at least they’re not metal spiders.”

Jubilee nodded. They sprinted for the pair in black.

The man pressed his finger to one ear and backed up several steps to look down a cross street. “Storm, this is Cyclops. We’ve got them, but there’s sentinel activity. Can you meet us on a rooftop?”

Dor and Jubilee stopped in front of the auburn woman, breathing hard. The auburn woman knelt before them, smiling encouragingly. This close, Dor could see her dark uniform was detailed with blue at the waist and cuffs. A blue X inscribed in a circle stood prominently on her left breast. The man’s uniform was similarly detailed in red.

“My name is Jean Grey,” she said aloud in the same voice that had spoken into their minds. “Scott and I are with the X-Men. We can take you somewhere safe for mutants.”

“You’re from that school.” Jubilee said.

Jean smiled and nodded.

Dor was uncertain. Jean seemed kind and she was grateful to be rescued, but she wasn’t a mutant, at least she didn’t think so, and she didn’t know how the X-Men would react when they found out.

The man, Scott, stepped toward them. “Storm will meet us on the roof of that apartment building.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Come on.”

Dor let Jean chivvy her along with Jubilee across a dark street to another alleyway. Scott pointed at a metal stairwell on the outside of the building a story and a half overhead

“Jean?” said Scott.

Jean looked up at the stairwell, putting one hand to the side of her head. A clank preceded a screech of metal as a ladder fell from the stairwell down the side of the building. It bounced with a clang but held firm to the brick wall.

Dor yelped and jumped back. Jubilee grabbed her hand and squeezed gently. “It’s all right Dor. These are the people I was telling you about before.”

Dor nodded.

“Jean, you first. Make sure the rooftop is clear. I’ll guard the rear,” Scott said.

Jean climbed the ladder until she reached the first landing and hurried up the stairs. Jubilee followed as soon as Scott nodded at her. Dor waited until Jubilee’s feet were clear before following. She tried to make no noise, but the metal stairs made that nigh impossible. They bit her bare feet, but she refused to cry out. She breathed a sigh of relief after clambering onto the rooftop next to Jubilee.

Jean touched her finger to her ear. “Storm, we’re here.”

A wind kicked up, sending Dor’s frazzled braids to swaying, her nightgown to flapping. She felt pressure from above and ducked instinctively.

The pre-dawn rooftop was lit with a burst of flickering orange fire. A javelin of fire arced suddenly toward them from the other side of the rooftop. Dor could only stare, eyes wide with fear, as the javelin streaked toward her from the other side of the rooftop, and a moment of disorientation rocked her as an image of a red-bordered playing card flickered in her mind.

Elmira’s Javelin

Cost:     2/R 2/R 2/R

Type:    Instant Elemental Sorcery – Fire

Text:     This deals 4 damage to any target.

Then Jean was in front of her, hand outthrust, and the flame crashed against an invisible barrier.

“Dorothy! Surrender to me or I’ll fry you and your friends!”

Dor gasped. Elmira Gulch strode from the darkness. She was still clad in her grey orphan dress, but her wavy brown hair was unbound and expression manic, eyes glowing orange. She gestured and a lash of fire leapt from her hand, flicking toward them like a whip. Dor cringed back even as Jean took a step forward.

Elmira’s Whip                                     

Cost:     1R

Type:    Elemental Enchantment – Fire Aura

Text:     Enchant creature you control (Target a creature you control as you cast this. This enters the battlefield attached to that creature.)

Enchanted creature has “T: This creature deals 1 damage to any target.”

Sacrifice this: This deals 1 damage to any target.

“Whoever you are, back off.” Jean took a steady stance and thrust her hands at Elmira.

Elmira stumbled, struck by an invisible force. She glowered and struck out with her fiery whip. Jean gestured and gasped when fire scattered across her invisible barrier.

“Hey!” Scott’s shout drew Elmira’s attention even as he let loose a beam of ruby light at the girl. Elmira dodged aside and the beam scarred the rooftop, scattering gravel. Elmira flung her hand at Scott and another javelin of flame streaked at him. He just managed to dodge aside.

Elmira laughed, high and manic. A second fiery lash erupted from her other hand. She swung her arms in an intricate pattern and advanced, driving the four of them to scatter. Small fires erupted upon the rooftop.

“Storm says she can get close enough!” Scott shouted.

Dor squinted through the heat and fire at the girl who had pursued her between planes. What did she want? How had she known Dor was a planeswalker? How had she known where to follow her?

“Wait!” Dor shouted. She stepped forward, one hand out to Elmira. “I’ll go with you, just leave them alone.”

The fiery lashes slowed, then stopped. Elmira smiled at her, expression distorted by the flicking of the fires in her hands.

“You want me, right?” Dor said. “Your master wants to see me?”

“Dor, no!” Jubilee shouted. She stepped next to Dor and took her hand. She pointed her other at Elmira.

Elmira smirked.

“You don’t have to go with her,” Jubilee said, voice cracking.

Dor squeezed her hand. “Jubilee, I’ve only just met you, but you’re already one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Thank you for helping me.” She pulled her hand from Jubilee’s and stepped forward. The heat from Elmira’s lashes made her wince. “You’ll leave them be?”

Elmira shrugged. “Sure. They mean nothing to me.”

Dor took several more steps until she was an arm’s length from Elmira. “You’ll have to show me how. I’ve only done it on accident.”

Elmira smirked. She held out a hand and the fiery lash fell away to sparks.

Dor put her hand in Elmira’s. It was hot, like a sunburn. Elmira gripped her tight, smiled, and took a deep breath. Her eyes glowed like coals.

Dor looked over her shoulder. Jean stood just behind Jubilee, hands on the younger girl’s shoulders. Scott stood by Jean, expression grim. Jubilee had tears on her cheeks. Dor felt herself about to cry. Twice now she’d made friends on other worlds and twice she was leaving them just after having met them.

“Like this,” said Elmira. She withdrew a small metal box with a circular blue button. She pressed it and a line of pale blue light pierced the space between them and the others. The line grew to about seven feet high, then appeared to rotate until it was a doorway.

The sight of it sparked that feeling along Dor’s shoulders that was becoming familiar. She grabbed for it, but it slipped from her metaphorical grasp. Elmira pulled her to the door of light.

“If you hesitate, it’ll only feel worse,” Elmira said. She pulled Dor up beside her and put a hand on the middle of her back. Dor felt her tense to push. The tingle at her neck persisted. She grabbed for it again and felt the tingle spread across her shoulders and up her neck. She held it tight as Elmira pushed her through the doorway.

Chapter Text

Dor gasped, a screech of fury echoing in her ears, as she stumbled from nowhere onto a muddy thoroughfare. A quick look around showed her she stood at a crossroads in a city of tents. People hurried about with the purpose of organized chaos. Most were clad in leather armor with metal plates sewn on. Some wore tabards displaying coats of arms. Dor had read about coats of arms, but she didn’t recognize any.

A coterie of armored soldiers bearing pikes marched down the thoroughfare from her right, their yellow tabards stained with mud at their hems. They didn’t look about to stop for her benefit, so Dor scrambled to make way, pulling her feet from the ankle-deep mud. She slipped, landing on her knees, but managed to crawl out of the way before she was trampled. She watched them pass, noting that not all were human, and not all were men. A hunch-backed hulk with a reptilian head marched near the center of the block. A man on her side of the block had leathery wings on his back and a serpentine tail. A tall woman at the back had long limbs and tall, upright ears.

“Are you one of my new girls? What are you doing out here?”

Before Dor could identify the speaker, she was grabbed by the arm and hauled out of the mud to her feet. The woman’s grip was tight. Dor winced. The woman released her only to smack her backside. Dor yelped and stumbled away, both hands on her bottom, trying not to trip in the mud. She blinked away tears and glared at the woman who’d smacked her. The woman had her fists on her hips, her plump lips in a firm line. Her soft-pink hair was held back in a loose braid. She wore a white robe hemmed with a red triangle pattern under a heavy, mud-spattered cloak. She looked young, early twenties at most.

“I gave explicit instructions you were to come straight to the healers’ tent, not wander about in the soldier’s barracks.”

Dor shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t fib to me, girl, or I’ll have your backside. I can feel the magic in you. You’re my new apprentice. And just look at the state of you, mud-caked and in naught but a shift. People will think I’m derelict in my duty. I ought to spank you just for that.”

Dor took a cautious step backward. It had been only a few days since her fingers had been bruised in the window, only several hours since her bottom had been marked by the cane, and only moments since her hand had been burned by Elmira’s touch. She wasn’t about to let this woman spank her.

The woman sighed. “Well, done’s done. Come along, girl.” She turned to leave, then looked over her shoulder. “Unless you’d like to join the camp followers? I hear some girls earn a coin or two warming soldiers’ beds.”

Dor felt herself blanch. She scampered after the woman, pulling her feet through the mud and making certain not to fall. They came to a large tent of mud-spattered white with that same repeating red triangle pattern around the bottom. The woman pulled aside the flap and waved Dor in. The tent was filled with two rows of beds on either side, one of which was occupied.

The woman came in after her, lifted the hem of her robe, and kicked off a pair of muddy wooden clogs, revealing worn white slippers. She looked at Dor and pursed her lips.

“I can’t have you tracking mud through my ward.”

“Soldiers don’t track in mud?” Dor asked before she could stop herself. She didn’t like this woman’s attitude.

“You’re awfully fresh for an apprentice.”

Dor bit her tongue on an apology. She didn’t want to be timid, to flinch at everything, to do what she was told just because she was told. She felt a bit of confidence well in her chest. She tried not to scare it off with the thudding of her heart.

“Wait here. I’ll fetch a robe.”

The woman hustled to the end of the tent and through another flap. She reappeared a moment later with a robe and a towel. Dor cleaned the mud off her feet and hands as best she could with the towel. At the woman’s direction, she pulled off her muddy nightgown and handed it over before donning the robe quickly, tying to minimize her nudity. Despite her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she appreciated the softness of the robe.

The woman folded Dor’s nightgown and draped it over one arm. “They didn’t send you with underpanties?”

Dor’s blush burned harder. “I departed in a hurry.” She wasn’t inclined to trust this woman with her full story.

“I’ll see what I can requisition. In the meantime, I’ve got a patient here who could use a dose of healing magic. Let’s see what you can do, girl.” Dor hunched in on herself, and the woman paused. “You can cast healing magic, can’t you? I can feel it on you.”

Dor shook her head. “It’s… complicated. Maybe if you showed me first.”

The woman gave her a funny look before leading her to a man with brown skin, dark eyes, and a shaved bald head, reclining on a bed

“Minwu.” He smiled at the woman in the white robe as he set aside the small book he’d been reading. “Have you brought me a visitor?”

“My new apprentice,” the woman said. “She’s… observing today.” She gave Dor a look. “Are you paying attention?”

Dor nodded, though she had no idea what to do.

The woman, Minwu, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and murmured quietly; a pale blue glow haloed her form. Dor felt the familiar tickle along her shoulders and at the base of her skull. The blue light faded from Minwu and emanated from the man on the bed, who sighed gently.

Dor watched him relax. In her mind flickered the image of a white-bordered playing card. For a moment, it was ethereal, faint, unlikely. The tickle at her shoulders slipped down her spine and though the caning had faded, she could feel the sensation pulse along those marks.

Minwu’s Cura                                     

Cost:    1W

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Cleric Instant

Text:     Prevent the next 5 damage that would be dealt to target creature, player, or planeswalker.

It was gone in a blink.

“That’s better,” the man said. “How long before I’m mission ready?”

Minwu frowned. “Are you so eager to get yourself injured again?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “There’s no sitting on the sidelines in the War of the Lions.”

Minwu looked at Dor and her frown deepened. Dor resisted the urge to shrink back. “You’ve seen what I can do. Now, are you going to show me what you can do?”

Dor bit her lip. She closed her eyes and imagined the room in her mind. It shook with the thumping of her heart. She tried to focus, to quiet her mind, but she could feel Minwu’s judging glare. She grabbed the image with her mind and tried to hold it still, to remember what Twilight Sparkle had said about metaphor and imagination. It shook harder. With grit teeth, she tried to remember the white-bordered playing card that had just flickered through her mind. For a moment, she saw it, it flared, bright and clear, thick with magic and cool as a breeze. Minwu stood in the art of the card, serene and blue-haloed.

Dor felt the tingle in her shoulders and she pushed that tingle hard as she could through the card and into the man lying on the bed. The card shattered in her mind and the room clattered apart. Dor collapsed before she knew anything was wrong.

She came to when the large man lay her on one of the beds. She blinked and gasped, a sweat breaking upon her brow.

“By Ultima, what foolishness was that?” Minwu shouted.

“Easy,” said the man. “You said she’s new at this.”

Dor blinked away the fuzziness from her vision. The man she’d healed was naked from the waist up, well-muscled, and handsome. He had a small smile on his face and held his hands up and out, as though trying to calm a skittish animal. Minwu was flush with fury.

“What happened?” Dor asked.

Minwu turned her angry glare on Dor. “You only have so much mana within you, girl. You can’t use all of it or you’ll kill yourself. Surely they taught you that in Mysidia?”

Objections scattered through Dor’s tired brain: I’ve never been to Mysidia; I’ve had less than an hour of training; I already told you I don’t know what you’re talking about. But what she said was, “My name is Dorothy. Dor, if you like.”

Minwu frowned harder.

Dor faded from consciousness.

When she was roused, her shoulders throbbed and her head ached but her other hurts: bruised fingers, burned hand, beaten backside, were gone. She sat up. The tent was dimly lit by a lantern at the far end. Minwu stood and hurried to her. There was no one else in the tent.

“You were sent her to assist me, not become a patient.”

Dor bit her tongue.

“Can you stand?”

Dor swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She didn’t feel dizzy, so she stood.

“Good.” Minwu took her by the elbow and led her to the back flap of the tent. She gathered her lamp in the other hand and led them through the back flap. The backside of the healing ward was hard-packed earth, cold on Dor’s bare feet, but at least it wasn’t muddy. Minwu knelt before a small, personal tent only a few steps away, and held aside the flap before waving Dor in.

Dor crawled in and moved aside when Minwu came in after her.

“I requisitioned you a bedroll and an extra set of clothes.” Minwu gestured at the neatly folded stack in the corner. Minwu’s own bedroll was already unfurled. A small wooden chest stood at its foot. “You won’t be issued your own tent, so we’ll have to share.”

“Thank you,” said Dor.

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Minwu. She took a deep breath. “My master would have spanked me half a dozen times today if I behaved as you have, and I can’t have it getting back to the commander that I can’t control my apprentice.”  

Dor shrank in on herself. She wasn’t who Minwu thought she was. But, for the moment, she felt safe. She didn’t want to risk Minwu turning her away by admitting she wasn’t her apprentice.

“This is my first command of a healing ward. I have to do a good job and I can’t have you interfering with your ignorance,” Minwu continued.

Dor swallowed hard, but she nodded. She reminded herself she was the veteran of many spankings, that there was no way Minwu could be harsher than Sister Mary Margaret. She reminded herself that though Minwu was preparing to spank her, she was also offering clean clothes and a place to sleep.

Minwu regarded Dor for several moments, head tilted, then cleared her throat.

“All right then. Lay out on your tummy.”

Dor stretched out on the canvas floor of the tent. There was plenty of room for her short frame. She folded her arms and rested her forehead on them. Minwu knelt at her side. She put one hand on the small of Dor’s back and rested the other lightly on her bottom. Dor shivered, but knew a moment of relief when she realized her spanking would not be bare bottom. Then Minwu pressed on Dor’s back and Dor tensed as she felt Minwu shift her weight.

Ten crisp smacks later, Dor’s bottom stung and her eyelashes were wet, but she was also tingly and warm.

“I expect better behavior going forward,” Minwu said as she sat back.

After several moments, Dor pushed herself to her knees, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

They changed from their robes into their nightgowns in silence. Dor found her nightgown amongst the stacked laundry, still faintly damp. Minwu let her borrow a hairbrush after undoing her own braid, and helped Dor lay out her bedroll and thin pillow. Tucked in, it felt not unlike her bed at St. Bridget’s, except her spanked bottom didn’t ache. It stung to be sure but did not ache. The spanking hadn’t felt good, but neither had it felt mean.

Minwu blew out the lamp and snuggled into her bedroll.

Dor stared at the sloped canvas ceiling of the tent while her eyes slowly grew used to the darkness. The sounds of camp going to bed murmured around them. There were probably soldiers on watch, officers developing strategies, and if Minwu was the only healer, as Dor had gotten the impression, they might be called on at any moment to tend wounds.

Her thoughts drifted.

She wondered about Jubilee and hoped she’d gotten away safely with Scott and Jean once she and Elmira had left. She thought about Twilight Sparkle and hoped the kind unicorn understood Dor hadn’t left on purpose. She thought about Sister Mary Margaret and the girls under her care, and she wondered which of her fellow orphans had been spanked today, were going to bed with sore bottoms and sore throats and sore hearts.

She dreamed of the room in her mind; it was quiet and peaceful and stable. The dark wood paneling leant a cozy atmosphere. She knelt in the center of the room and at her knees was a book bound in dark brown leather. It was her book, she knew, and she opened it to reveal not paper, but a sheet of transparent material for which she had no name. It was smooth and cool. The sheet was made up of nine transparent pockets, the top three of which were filled, each with one of the playing cards she’d seen in her mind’s eye: [Twilight’s Blink], [Jubilee’s Dazzler], and now [Minwu’s Cura].

“It’s a spell book,” she said aloud, her dream voice delighted, “a sort of grimoire.”

She reached into the top right pocket, holding [Minwu’s Cura], and withdrew the playing card. It slid free easily. It felt warm and heavy in her hand. Thick and real but light and ephemeral. She could feel the healing of the magic and knew if she channeled that tingle she felt along her shoulders though the card, she could heal wounds. Now she knew, though, she had to be careful, and the thought made her ache as though she’d overused a new muscle.

She replaced the card and withdrew [Jubilee’s Dazzler]. In the art of the card, Jubilee stood proud and confident in a black uniform much like Jean and Scott had worn. She wore a bright yellow jacket overtop and a pair of bright pink spectacles on her small nose. Sparks danced from her fingertips and a smirk decorated her expression.

After several moments of feeling its heft, she returned the card and withdrew [Twilight’s Blink], upon which the purple unicorn glowed brightly, confident in her power.

Light filled the small room in her mind, brightening the dim corners. Dor felt the Multiverse open before her. She nearly reached for it, but stopped herself. Despite the spanking, or perhaps because of it, Minwu made her feel safe. She’d given Dor clothes, bedding, and a place to sleep. Dor had learned from her as she’d learned from Twilight Sparkle and Jubilee. And, so far, Elmira hadn’t found her. If Dor knew what she was doing, if she could be certain she could get back to Equestira and Twilight Sparkle, she would have planeswalked in a moment. But it was still new to her. And while every plane she’d visited thus far had gravity and air and language similar to her own, she feared stumbling upon a plane with an uninhabitable environment. It would be better, she reasoned, to stay with Minwu and the stability she offered. For now anyway.

Dor woke to the patter of rain on canvas. She lay on her side. She made to get up when she realized a warm, comforting presence at her back. Reaching behind her, she found Minwu curled up behind her. Minwu stirred at the touch and rolled onto her back.

Dor got out of her bedroll, braided her hair and changed into the clothes Minwu had procured for her: chemise, brief shorts, socks, slippers, and a robe much like Minwu’s but without the red triangles along the hem. She brushed and braided her hair in two braids, rolled up her bedroll, and was ready for the day when Minwu took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

Dor opened the tentflap on the gentle rain. She let it speckle her face while Minwu brushed and braided her hair and got dressed. They stepped lightly across the narrow way between their tent and the healing ward. Once inside, Minwu showed Dor around the cupboards at the back of the tent and the neatly ordered healing supplies therein.

“I don’t suppose they taught you anything about practical healing in Mysida,” Minwu said. Without waiting for a response, she explained the use of each item: bandages and ointments, herbs and tinctures, sutures and three vials of rare healing potions. “We haven’t a chemist on staff anymore,” Minwu said. “So these are only for dire emergencies. Understood?”

Dor nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Her gaze lit upon a staff leaning carelessly against the cupboards. Made of a pale yellow wood, it was slim and straight but for a half-circle crook at the top.

“What’s that?” Dor asked.

Minwu gave Dor a piercing look. “Surely you’ve seen a mage’s staff before. Don’t white mages in Mysida use this kind of staff?”

Dor shrugged and bit her lip. She should have known better than to ask a question that would reveal her ignorance.

“I can’t tell if you’re being thick on purpose or if you really don’t know,” Minwu said, eyes narrowing.

Dor reflexively put a hand on her bottom.

Their conversation was interrupted by the man she’d healed yesterday pushing open the flap of the healing ward tent. He was clad in a dark blue vest and loose pants held with a black belt. A group of people hurried in behind him, tracking mud along the canvas floor, shouting in cacophony, dripping rain and blood. Injured soldiers helped each other to beds, those who could move under their own power. Three were carried on stretchers, unconscious. Some had bandages inexpertly wrapped around oozing wounds. One man had lost his right hand. The sudden chaos threw Dor into a panic and she pressed herself to the back canvas wall of the tent, trying to stay out of the way, trying to stay unnoticed.

Minwu stepped to the center of the room. She spoke with a firm, calm voice, directing patients to beds with sure gestures. She snapped her fingers at Dor without turning to look at her.

“Bandages and tincture, quickly.”

Dor blinked for several stunned moments, uncertain what to do, afraid to be wrong.

Minwu snapped at her again and Dor hurried to the cupboards, opening doors until she found what she’d been sent for. She took them to Minwu who stood over a man still clad in thick leather armor, the one missing his right hand. Minwu undid the man’s belt and pulled it though the loops with a swish. She cut away the straps holding the bracer to his forearm. She wrapped the belt around his arm, just below the elbow and tightened it, slowing the blood loss.

Dor handed over the bandages and tincture, and Minwu set to work. “The black mage needs immediate attention. Be careful with your mana this time,” she said, words clipped.

“Who?” said Dor.

Without looking up from her work, Minwu grabbed Dor by the shoulder, turned her around and smacked her backside sharply.

Dor yelped and took a few hurried steps away before she realized Minwu had sent her in the direction of a short man in a black jacket with brightly striped green and yellow pantaloons. Her bottom tingling, warmth flushing her, Dor hurried to the man’s side.

He wasn’t human, but a short, white-furred humanoid with cat-like ears and a furry, scarlet, pompom upon his forehead. Dor didn’t let herself get distracted by his alien-ness. He was a person and he needed her help.

“Carefully,” Dor told herself under the chaos of the room. She put her hands on the black mage’s arm and took a deep breath, trying to focus. She reminded herself of Twilight Sparkle, who’d told her she had a good imagination, critical to magical talent. “You can do this.”

The wood-paneled room eased into her mind’s eye and she knelt at its center. She felt a tingle along her shoulders and rather than grasping for it, she took another deep breath, trying not to scare it off. The feeling intensified and the leather-bound book appeared on the floor at her knees. She opened it to reveal three playing cards in smooth, transparent sleeves. She put her fingers to the card in the upper right pocket: [Minwu’s Cura], and she let the tingle in her shoulders ease through the focus of the card. She felt the energy shape and take hold. She felt it focused by the spell, then she remembered the black mage’s arm under her hands and she let [Minwu’s Cura] heal his wounds.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped and heard the black mage do the same. He stirred and shifted and blinked at her, then smiled wanly.

“That’s better, kupo. Thank you, miss.” His voice was soft

Dor blushed. “Are you all right?”

The black mage nodded, though his dark eyes were sunken in his white-furred face. “Well enough. I’m sure there are others who need your attention.”

He was right.

At Minuw’s direction, sometimes with a helpful swat, Dor scurried from patient to patient bringing ointments and bandages and sutures. Only occasionally did Minwu briefly glow blue and she did not direct Dor to use her powers again. In the course of three frenzied hours, they tended the wounded party and Dor grew inured to the sight of blood, the smell of it, the feel of it staining her clothes.

When the worst was over, two of them were dead. The man she’d healed yesterday returned to haul the bodies off. Dor didn’t ask where he was taking them. When he came back, he carried a large ceramic decanter and a pair of small, ceramic mugs. He took them to the back of the tent and waved for Dor to follow him.

“Minwu hasn’t cleared me for active duty,” he said, handing Dor a mug of water. “I’m on porter duty for the time being.”

Dor accepted the mug and drank quickly.

“I’m Li, by the way.”

“Dor.”

A grumble of thunder startled her and she jumped. Rain fell on the healing ward in a muted roar.

“Has it been raining long?” she asked.

“All day,” said Li. “You were a bit busy to notice.”

Minwu joined them and Li poured her a cup of water.

“I’m not putting you back on active duty without at least another week of observation,” Minwu said.

Li nodded and handed her the mug with a gentle smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

They stood at the back of the healing ward tent, letting the intensifying storm drown the restless shuffling of the wounded.

“You’ve done well today,” Minwu said without looking at Dor. “This would have been harder on my own, Dorothy.”

Dor flushed.

After several minutes, Minwu directed Dor to clean the floor of the tent, giving her a cake of soap from the supplies, a bucket to collect rainwater, and showing her how to heat it over a small brazier near their tent out back. Dor didn’t mind the work, though she got wet in the rain and dirty from the cleaning. After an hour or so of working at it, she had the canvas floor clean of blood and mud except for where it had stained, which Minwu said was unavoidable. Just as she was putting away the soap and bucket, another group came into the healing tent.

Dor tensed, ready for another flurry of work, but none of them appeared to be injured. The woman in the lead wore a sky-blue tabard over well-worn platemail. She was accompanied by a pair of soldiers in that same blue tabard.

Minwu hurried up to her. “Commander.”

The woman nodded at Minwu. “I see you’ve done your work well. We only lost two units.”

Minwu bowed her head. “Their deaths weigh heavily.”

“This is war, sister. I know you white mages take death hard, but it’s unavoidable. I wanted you know the losses were acceptable, and your good work today was instrumental in that.”

Dor felt her throat tighten and her chest clench. She thought she might be ill, but swallowed hard on the stinging bile at the bottom of her throat. She didn’t want to have to clean the floor again.

Minwu bowed. “Yes, commander.”

The commander’s eyes lit upon Dor. Dor hunched her shoulders before she could stop herself.

“Who’s this?”

“My new apprentice from Mysidia.”

The commander looked to the man on her left. “Did we receive notice of incoming personnel?”

The man shook his head. “No, commander. But messages from the west have been spotty of late. I’ll check when we get back to the command tend.”

The commander grunted. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Uh… Dorothy,” she squeaked, wishing she could be more confident.

The commander grunted again. “Do you think me callous for considering the deaths of those two units acceptable?”

Dor flicked her glance to Minwu who pressed her plump lips tight. Dor cleared her throat nervously. Li put a hand on her arm and she glanced at him. His expression was inscrutable. For a moment more she considered how to respond, how uncertain she’d been even in telling the commander her own name. All her life had been spent wishing she could be more like the heroes she’d read about and now, in the last few days she’d walked between planes, learned to channel magic, and still she couldn’t manage to stand up even for her own name. She took a deep breath and insisted on telling the truth.

“Yes, ma’am.” Even just those two words were difficult. Her vision fuzzed with fear and her throat tightened on anything else she might have said. But the commander smiled.

“I admire your pluck, Dorothy. But understand this, I know the names of everyone in this camp. Every monk, every mage, every knight, every solider, every squire and cook and camp follower. All of them. I know where they come from, why they’re here, and what they can do to help me do my part to win this war.”

Dor swallowed hard.

“I feel each causality, each fatality, but I need you to understand that the survival of this nation depends on us winning the war, and us winning the war depends on each unit doing his or her job. And while it pains me, I will do what is necessary for the greater good, even if some must die for it.”

Dor bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Because their patients needed to be monitored, they had to keep watch throughout the night. Minwu offered to keep first watch. Dor accepted gratefully. Exhausted as she was, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer. She crawled into their shared tent across the way, brushed out her hair, changed for bed, and was just about to snuggle into her bedroll when Minwu came in. Dor hunched her shoulders before she could remember not to.

“Are you going to spank me for talking back to the commander?” Dor asked.

Minwu gave her a curious look before shaking her head. “I would never spank you for telling the truth. I just wanted to say again that you did a good job today.”

Dor blushed and smiled and felt warmth suffuse her. She climbed into her bedroll and Minwu tucked her in before she bent and kissed Dor’s forehead. It was a quick peck and Dor might have convinced herself she’d imagined it except for the tingle lingering upon her skin.

Minwu cleared her throat. “Sleep well. I’ll wake you for your shift at midnight.”

Once Minwu left with the lantern, plunging the tent into darkness, Dor’s mind lingered on the kiss. It almost seemed automatic, as though Minwu hadn’t thought about what she was doing before she did it, an innocent act of affection

Dor blushed, pleased.

Chapter Text

Minwu crawled into the tent. She hung the lamp on the hook and touched Dor’s shoulder gently.

“It’s midnight, Dorothy. Time for your watch.”

Dor snuffled and yawned and stretched before sliding from her bedroll. Though it was far too early, she felt rested enough to get up and stand her watch.

“The patients are resting easy, except for Fynn. He’s the archer who lost his hand. He doesn’t seem to be able to sleep, so I gave him a draught to help him along. It should be a quiet second watch.”

Dor nodded. “Do you need the lamp or can I take it with me?”

Minwu pulled her robe over her head. She wore a thin chemise much like the one she’d given Dor, and a pair of pale grey pantaloons that had likely been white once. She shucked off her pantaloons with a practiced ease leaving her in brief shorts that settled loosely on her wide hips. Dor blushed thinking how pretty the older woman was. She looked away before Minwu could catch her looking.

“Take it with you. And if anything dire happens, wake me immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dor entered the healing ward. It was quiet and warm, though thick with the pain of the injured. She walked the length of the ward, looking at each patient in turn, making sure they were still breathing. She lingered at the man who’d lost his hand, Fynn, Minwu had called him. He slept, but his expression was pained. She lingered also at the non-human black mage, whose name she didn’t know. He was looking better than the last time she’d seen him.

After completing her round of checks, she sat on the stool at the back of the ward and tried to figure out how she was gong to stay up until sunrise. She’d just decided she needed to do another round of checks when Li came in carrying a metal pot and two ceramic mugs. He sat on the floor beside her.

“I brought coffee,” he said.

Dor had never had coffee before. It was a luxury. At the orphanage, only the sisters were allowed it. Even so, she accepted gratefully. The hot drink warmed her instantly and the pleasant buzz infused her, perking her thoughts and giving her hope she might stand the watch without dozing off.

“So, how have your first couple days in Ivalice been?” Li said, tone nonchalant.

Dor paused, mug halfway to her lips. “What do you mean?”

Li shrugged. “Call it a hunch, but I don’t think you’re from around here. And I don’t just mean you’re not from Mysida.”

Dor shrugged. “Today was awful. All that blood and the wounded… But at least here I’m not personally persecuted. Plus, I’ve been useful.”

Li nodded. “Self-actualization is important.”  

They sipped at their coffee silently for a while.

“Li, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, little sister. What’s on your mind?”

Dor blushed. She really wanted to ask about Minwu, but now she had the opportunity she hesitated. Instead she said, “What’s the War of the Lions being fought over?”

“Ah. That is a difficult question. It depends on who you ask. According to Marquis Highwind, the family of Lord Gestahl is abusing their authority over common folk. Marquis Highwind convinced Duke William Cornelia to claim his niece the rightful heir of the Adamantine Throne of the Empire. Duke Gestahl, whose son had already been proclaimed heir to the aging Emperor Matius Palameica, objected. Duke Richard Gestahl, Lion of the South, invaded the province of Marquis Alexander Highwind. Duke William Cornelia, Lion of the North came to his ally’s defense. Various other landed nobles took sides. Emperor Palamecia seems willing to the let them settle who will succeed him in their own way.”

“Oh. That seems… complicated. And wasteful.”

“Maybe so.”

Dor knew the history of her world was filled with wars. She’d read about them. She’d read about the Hundred Years War, the Napoleonic wars, the American Revolution and Civil War. Each conflict had its cast of players, some who seemed heroic some who seemed villainous, but by the time she was finished reading them, she couldn’t help but think all the fighting and killing never actually solved anyone’s problems.

“So wars here are just as futile as back home,” Dor said with a sigh.

Li shrugged. “I suppose that depends upon your outlook. Marquis Highwind is not related to Duke Cornelia’s niece. He stands to gain little in this war. To hear him speak is to be convinced of the rightness of his accusations against Duke Gestahl.”

“Were you convinced?” Dor asked.

Li nodded. “Refugees from Duke Gestahl’s lands tell stories of magical experimentation on sapient folks. Gestahl needs to be taken down. More than that, there’s talk of a constitution of sorts. Of a grand experiment in guaranting the rights of common folk. Maybe even electing leaders through popular vote.” He shrugged again. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is futile, but I do believe in what we’re fighting for.”

Dor considered. She wasn’t from this land, Ivalice, he had called it, but her reading had convinced her that, though imperfect, democracy was a good form of government. Then she remembered that if the last few days had been any indication, she wouldn’t be here in Ivalice much longer. Her actions, one way or another, would amount to little in this conflict.

Her thoughts drifted back to Minwu.

“There’s something else on your mind,” Li said.

“How do you know?”

“You’ve started to take a drink of that coffee twice now and twice forgotten to drink any.”

Dor blushed and took a big swig. It had cooled, but was still tasty. She decided she liked coffee and hoped whatever plane she traveled to next had it.

“Do you think Minwu likes me?” Dor asked.

“Hmm. Why do you ask?”

“Well, yesterday…” Dor blushed but pressed on. “Yesterday when I… showed up, she was mad at me.”

“Because she thinks you’re her apprentice from Mysida and you didn’t follow her instructions.”

“Right. And then I might have talked back to her a couple times. Then I was… I suppose I was careless with my magic. When I healed you. And then… before bed… she spanked me.” Dor blushed hard. “And it’s most assuredly not the worst spanking I ever got, but still I didn’t like it.”

“I shouldn’t think so, no.”

“But it also… I don’t know… It felt protective. And then, tonight she told me I did a good job then kissed my forehead.”

“What was it like, where you were before?” Li asked.

“Terrible. I’m an orphan and Sister Mary Margaret doesn’t like it when I speak my mind, or have an imagination, or just about anything else. She spanks very hard and never kissed my forehead.”

Li nodded. “Minwu is compassionate and protective, but she also brooks no nonsense. I understand you’re not who she thinks you are, but if she says you are her apprentice, she will protect you and guide you and discipline you. And I have no doubt she will do so lovingly, fairly, and firmly.”

“Why? How well do you know her?”

“Well enough. We served under the same master in the Adamantine Temple near Samite Falls in the north. I as a monk and she as a white mage. She had a family when we were both still apprentices. Her parents were killed when Altair was sacked by the Lion of the South. Her little sister survived, but had little to offer the army. She served as apprentice quartermaster to the Samite Falls contingent on a mission when we were attacked by bandits. She refused to give up the key to the supply wagon and was killed. 

Li’s voice was gentle and quiet and Dor detected a note of affection.

“Have you told Minwu how you feel about her?”

Li cleared his throat and portioned the last of the coffee between their mugs. “We’ve had a… conversation. Even so, I’d appreciate if you kept that to yourself.”

Dor nodded.

The rain persisted.

With only brief breaks for a hint at the sun, the next three days were dim, cloudy, and wet. Dor generally liked the rain. Back at the orphanage, when she wasn’t occupied with lessons or chores, she’d sit next to a window and stare out at the rain from the comfort of indoors. She would watch the drops streak through the air and splash to the ground and run down the windows. She would imagine each drop of rain was its own little world on a journey to the Earth where it sank into the ground and became part of something new and different and extraordinary.

But this rain was persistent and soggy and miserable.

Dor worked at Mwinu’s direction. When she was particularly slow or inattentive, Mwinu would smack her backside, but the sting didn’t hurt, not really, and that bit of encouragement helped her learn quickly. By the end of the day, Dor could predict what Minwu would need before she asked for it. Between their combined magical efforts and Minwu’s practical knowledge, by that afternoon most of their patients were up and about, released to their own tents.

Only three remained. Mogven, the moogle black mage whose broken ribs were still tender, Maria a human knight whose toes on her left foot had been crushed and needed delicate attention, and Fynn the elvan archer who’d lost his hand and couldn’t seem to shake an infection.

Dor was counting their supplies when a girl in wooden clogs came in, carrying a stack of folded sheets and tracking mud down the center of the tent. Dor looked at the trail of mud then turned a furious gaze on the girl, who quailed. Dor took a breath and bit her tongue on an angry reprisal.

“Next time, take your clogs off at the door,” Dor said.

The girl blushed and looked down. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What do you need?”

“I’m here to deliver and collect laundry. Mama says the healing tent always has a lot of laundry.”

“You’re Kimberly’s daughter, right?” Minwu said from across the tent.

The girl looked at Minwu and nodded shyly.

“Help us strip the beds that aren’t being used.”

Dor took the stack of clean sheets from the girl, only slightly damp, and set them on the cupboards. Between the three of them the beds were stripped in quick order. Then Minwu brought a pair of what looked like bathrobes that opened in the front and belted closed with a cloth belt.

“Kimberly can get our personal laundry back to us by morning,” Minwu said. “She’s the best laundress in camp.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully.

After a meal of beans and rice in a light broth, brought to them by and shared with Li, Dor and Minwu went to bed. Li had arranged for himself and a couple others still waiting for active duty to take watch in the healing ward so Minwu and Dor could get a full night’s rest.

With their clothes at the laundry, damp from the rain, and full from a plentiful dinner, Dor and Minwu slipped nude into their bedrolls shoulders only an inch apart. Dor had tried to avoid staring at Minwu’s full breasts, large pink nipples, ample hips… She blushed and tingled, trying so hard not to think on it, to let her mind wander.

Dor dreamed of the room in her mind. She knelt in its center, the brown leather book at her knees. She knew she was dreaming, but so far her dreams had been the easiest place to sit quietly in the imagined room, to summon the spell book, to examine the spells. In the heat of the moment, she found magic slippery to grasp.

She opened the book. The now familiar smooth, transparent material of the nine-pocket page sent a tingle up her fingertips as she ran them along its surface. She pulled [Jubilee’s Dazzler] from its pocket. Her brief friend was depicted in a cocky pose, confident smirk, and the same kind of uniform Scott and Jean had been wearing. Dor hoped that meant Jubilee had gotten safely to the school.

The room in her mind warmed with the glow of the Multiverse but she pulled back. She was safe with Minwu. It was nice to be somewhere she could do some good, to be appreciated. She did miss the books though. Even though the orphanage didn’t encourage reading or imagination, at least there was a small library. Dor wondered if the camp had a library. She’d have to ask when she woke.

A tingle tickled across her shoulders, that feeling she’d come to associate with magic, with the mana within her, as Minwu had put it. She let it tingle on her shoulders, picking its way down her arms to the fingers of her right hand, holding the playing card. She felt the magic take shape as it approached, focused by the card. She pulled the magic back, slowly, then let it trickle toward the card again, pulled it back, let it go, getting a taste for how the magic felt. The back and forth made her buzz with anticipation, holding the magic back, though it yearned to be released. Suddenly, with a wrench, the magic pulled from her grasp and launched through the mental playing card.

Dor was jerked from sleep by an explosive light and a booming crack. She sat up and looked around only to find her vision filled with buzzing, disorienting speckles of white. She called out to Minwu, but could not hear herself through the ringing. She panicked, grabbing her bedroll and pulling it tight to her.

A pale green light filled her vision, draining away a moment later, taking with it the impairments. Dor took a deep breath as her senses returned to normal. She stared at Minwu, wide-eyed. Minwu stared back, gaze stern, fists on ample hips, kneeling upon her bedroll.

Dor blushed. “I… I tried to…”

“What in the name of Ultima was that?” Mwinu’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. “You’re not my white mage apprentice, are you?”

Dor sniffled but couldn’t stop tears tracking down her cheeks. “You… you just assumed…”

“Are you even from Mysida?”

Dor shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Someone tugged at the tentflap, but it was secured from the inside. “Minwu? What happened? Are you all right?” It was Li.

Minwu took a deep breath then turned to the tent flap and untied the straps. Dor pulled her bedroll to her chest to hide her nakedness. Minuw seemed unconcerned, her soft-pink hair doing nothing to hide her bare breasts.

“We’re fine, Li. There was a magical accident, but I’ve handled it.”

Dor heard Li clear his throat uncomfortably and mumble incoherently.

“Thank you, Li. Let me know if I’m needed in the ward.” Minwu tied the tent flap closed without waiting for a response. She turned back to Dor.

Dor swallowed hard. “What now?”

Minwu crawled to her bedroll and sat on it, cross-legged. She opened her trunk and withdrew her hairbrush. Dor felt her skin tighten. “I concede I may have been hasty in my assumptions when we first met. But you’ve had plenty of time to tell me who you really are.” She pulled her hair over one shoulder and pull the brush through it gently. “Did you tell Li?”

Dor nodded.

Minwu pointed her brush at Dor. “I should spank and turn you out. I trusted you and you lied to me. But… It’s my own fault. I… I had a little sister. Sarah. Her hair was pink, like mine, but she put it in two braids, just like you. She had your pluck too. She was kind and shy, but her chin would jut when she was getting stubborn, just like you.” She took a long, shaky breath. “Tell me who you are, please.”

Dor unclenched her teeth. She took a careful breath and said, “My name is Dorothy Alice Wendy. I’m an orphan and I’ve run away from St. Bridget’s in Wakefield, Quebec. And that’s worlds away from here. Where I’m from, there is no magic, but several days ago I… I sparked and planeswalked to a world of talking horses.” She told Minwu about her travels and about Elmira Gulch, who had pursued her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I tried at first, and then… I was useful to you and it’s safe here, or safe enough anyway.”

Dor glanced up at Minwu, blinking away tears. Minwu’s expression was still hard.

“I… I didn’t have a plan,” Dor said. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage. But I can’t go back to the orphanage and I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry Minwu.” Her lip trembled and she couldn’t stop it. She looked down again, clutching the bedroll tight and drawing in on herself. When Minwu sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, Dor leaned into her. She was soft and warm and Dor spent the next several moments crying into her embrace. After a while she shifted to lay across Minwu’s lap, the white mage rubbing her back, combing her fingers through her hair, and humming gently.

Without looking up, Dor said, “Are you going to spank me?”

“Would it help?”

Dor shrugged. “Maybe. Did you use to spank Sarah?”

“Often.”

“Sister Mary Margaret spanked us at the orphanage. She’s mean and awful and horrible. But… but you’re not those things. And I did lie to you…”

Minwu braided Dor’s hair gently and set it aside before putting a hand on Dor’s waist and one on her bottom. Dor wiggled, settling into Minwu’s lap. Minwu patted her bottom gently, then a bit more firmly, then a bit more, and a bit more until she eased into a skin-stinging spanking that encouraged the last of Dor’s tears free and unknotted the ache of fear in her chest.

Later, they slipped into their bedrolls. Dor turned on her side and Minwu cuddled up close behind her.

Mogven was cleared to leave the healing ward the next day. He thanked them both and gave Dor a shy smile before leaving. Maria was cleared a couple days after that. Fynn’s infection persisted, but eventually he too left the healing ward with explicit instructions from Minwu on how to clean and dress the lingering infection.

Dor and Minwu spent a quiet day organizing the healing ward while the rain dissipated and the sun made its first appearance in the week and a half since Dor had arrived. Li had been sent on a mission and Minwu was subdued.

They sat on the floor at the back of the tent.

“What is magic like for you?” Dor asked.

“An inner well of mana, like a bowl of water. I channel the mana through the spells I spent years learning and memorizing. Most white mages I’ve talked to describe it similarly. Most black mages talk about it like a candle flame. The more mana I channel into spells, the weaker I feel, as you learned firsthand. What’s it like for you?”

“A tingle at my shoulders, and I channel it though the playing cards in the book in my mind.”

“Playing cards?” Minwu quirked an eyebrow at her.

Dor nodded. “Sometimes when I see someone do something… magical I suppose, a playing card sort of… manifests in my mind. I watched Twilight Sparkle teleport a short distance when she was fighting off those wolf creatures. Same with Jubilee and those metal spiders, and you healing Li.”

Minwu nodded faintly and Dor could almost see her taking mental notes.

“I don’t really know how it works,” Dor confessed. “Twilight Sparkle can fire a beam of magic from her horn and I watched Scott fire a beam of magic from his eyes, and neither of those actions turned into playing cards. I don’t know when something I see will become something I can do. For that matter, I’ve seen you cast a dozen different kind healing spells, and I only learned the first one.”

“Hmm.” Minwu looked thoughtful. “I usually only cast a variation of the same spell: Cura. It is the most common spell a white mage casts. But, perhaps we can take a tour around camp. There’s a training ground the black mages use. And if you set off one of those explosions again, I can show you the Esuna spell.”

Dor giggled. “Should I wait until you’re asleep so it’s more exciting?”

“Only if you really do want to feel that hairbrush on your bare backside.”

The threat, Dor realized, didn’t frighten her. Not only because she knew it was a joke, but because she knew if Minwu did spank her bare bottom with a hairbrush, she wouldn’t do it meanly or without cause.

Their giggling was cut short by shouts outside. Even as they stood, a soldier wearing a blue tabard came in, supporting the commander Dor had talked back to several days before. The commander was barely moving under her own power and had suffered a deep, red wound low in her abdomen. Her armor was dented and rent at the site of the wound. The soldier in the blue tabard pulled the commander to one of the beds and tried to heave her onto it, but the commander suddenly went slack and they both fell.

While Minwu hurried to the commander’s side, Dor hurried to the cupboard to fetch the tools she knew Minwu would want: tincture, ointment, bandages, suture, and she grabbed the three vials of healing potion, just in case. As she turned back, she found the commander laid out upon the canvas floor, and Li pulling the soldier away. Li and the soldier argued loudly, but the words were garbled to her, she was focused on Minwu. She hurried to the woman’s side and set the supplies neatly in front of her.

“This is bad,” Minwu said. “I can heal the wound but the armor is torn in such a way it will do little good. We have got to get it off her, but I fear doing so will cause enough shock it will kill her.”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll die anyway, right?” The commander’s voice was strained but steady.

Minwu nodded. “Yes, ma’am”

“Then do it.”

Before the conversation had ended, Dor sprinted back to the cupboard to fetch a pair of large, sharp scissors and was back a moment later. Minwu cut the straps of the commander’s armor. Dor watch the commander’s face go pale as she grit her teeth and tried not to cry out.

“Dor, I need you to help me lift it straight it up.”

Dor went around to the commander’s other side and grabbed the edge of her breastplate.

“On three,” said Minwu. She counted a slow, steady beat and they lifted together. The commander cried out, high and sharp and her breath gurgled. “Stop,” said Mwinu. “Stop, stop. If we move it any more, I’m not sure magic will be enough.” She picked up one of the potions and held it to the commander’s lips. The commander swallowed though it pained her.

“I could teleport it off her,” said Dor. “It won’t move, not in the regular way.”

“Are you sure?”

Dor bit her lip and shook her head. “No.”

Mwinu considered a moment, then nodded.

Dor closed her eyes and pictured the room in her mind. It came readily. Despite the situation she felt calm, confident even. The book appeared in her hands and she opened it to the first page, and there in the top left was [Twilight’s Blink]. She felt the tingle at her shoulders and as she touched the playing card that feeling shot down her arm and though the spell. She made sure to hold tight to the armor. With a crack of magic, Dor appeared a few feet away, the commander’s rent and bloody breastplate in her hands. She tossed it aside and hurried back to the commander who gasped and shuddered.

Minwu glowed blue and the healing spell flowed into the commander who stilled and breathed evenly for a moment and then a second, and then her breathing stopped all together.

“Fetch my staff,” Minwu said, voice tight.

Dor did as she was told, taking hold of the pale wooden item with its perfect half-circle crook. It was warm in her hands and tingled much the way her shoulders did. She carried it to Minwu who took it up without looking, settling it on her thighs.

“I’m might need you to catch me.”

Dor didn’t understand, but she knelt behind Minwu even as the white mage glowed a brilliant gold. Reddish-orange wings flicked for a moment from her back, as though she were and angel, or a phoenix. Dor’s own shoulders itched mightily and a knot built at the base of her neck. She knelt behind Minwu just as the power fled Minwu and into the commander. Minwu exhaled and collapsed into Dor who held her around the middle.

The commander gasped, her eyes snapping open. She put a hand reflexively to her middle where the wound had been.

“Are you still in pain?” Dor asked.

The commander nodded. “I don’t… I’m not sure…”

“Lie still.” Dor said. She eased Minwu to the floor, unconscious then knelt to the side of the commander, scissors in hand. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to cut this off to see if you’re still injured.”

“Get on with it.”

Dor cut the armor padding off the commander and peeled it back, the caked blood cracking. The commander’s skin was scarred but smooth and unbroken. Dor ran her hands slowly up and down the woman’s torso as she had seen Minwu do. She didn’t know what she was feeling for, but when the commander gasped with pain, she closed her eyes, opened her book, and touched [Minwu’s Cura]. She let the power flow through the card and into the commander at the point of pain. The commander eased under her touch.

Dor opened her eyes. The commander looked at her.

“Do you hurt anywhere else?” Dor asked.

The commander shook her head.

“Let’s get you into bed. When Minwu wakes, she’ll want to take another look at you.”

“I haven’t time to be in bed.” The commander struggled to sit.

“That’s not really for you to say, is it ma’am?” Dor said, even as her cheeks flushed.

“What did you say, Dorothy?”

“It’s up to Minwu to decide when you’re ready for active duty, right? If I let you walk out of this ward, she’ll have my backside. You understand, don’t you?”

The commander grinned ruefully.

Dor nodded. “I’m sure whatever orders you need to give can be given from in here. Let me help you into bed, then I’ll see if Li will let that soldier back in.”

Despite her insistence, the commander did need Dor’s help to get up, get undressed, and into bed. Then Li helped Dor put Minwu onto the neighboring bed. Finally, they let Corporal May in to see the commander, who did, indeed, begin giving orders.

Minwu woke an hour later. She, too, insisted she was fine but between Dor and Li they made her stay in bed until she promised all she would do was inspect the commander for further injury.

The in and out of officers and runners reporting to the commander made the day hectic, but there were no further injuries except for Mogven the black mage, who had mistimed a fire spell and burned his hand. Dor treated it with ointment and bandaged it, earning a word of praise from Minwu for a job competently done.

Minwu insisted on staying the night in the ward to be near the commander should something happen. There were plenty of guards standing watch around the ward, so there was no need for Dor to stay up. She was making sure the supplies were put away correctly so she could turn in for the night when Li put a hand on her shoulder.

“A couple things I thought you should know,” he said. “There’s a letter I’m to deliver to Minwu. I’ll give it to her in the morning. It says three apprentice white mages are on their way from Mysidia. Their departure was delayed. Apparently there are bandits on the highway.”

“These are the girls Minwu thought I was,” Dor said.

Li shrugged. “I can only assume. Also, someone’s asking about you. Most of the camp doesn’t know you exist yet. But I overheard a conversation in the laundry, about a girl with auburn hair in two long braids. After today, with the commander, the whole camp will know who you are and where you are. Apparently, an old friend from home is looking for that girl with the two braids.”

“I have no friends from home.” Dor said with a sinking feeling. “Did you get a look at the person who’s asking?”

Li shook his head.

“It’s Elmira, almost certainly. Elmira Gulch. She was at the orphanage, but I don’t think she’s actually an orphan. She’s after me and I don’t know why. Her master wants me for something.”

“Who’s her master?”

Dor shrugged. “We didn’t get that far into the conversation.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

Except she did know. She couldn’t stay. She didn’t know how Elmira compared to Minwu in power, or Mogven, or any of the other mages in camp. But she did know Elmira was relentless and dangerous and if she let Elmira find her, there would be a confrontation, and if there was a confrontation, people like the commander would want to know why Elmira was after her.

She went into the tent, but did not secure the flap. She folded the clothes Minwu had gotten for her and rolled them up in her bedroll. A clever harness stitched into one end of the bedroll, allowed her to carry it on her back in a neat little package. She felt bad about it, but she wasn’t about to planeswalk in nothing but her nightgown again. She hoped Minwu would understand. Maybe Li would explain it to her.

She sat in the center of the tent, cross-legged, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and slipped into the room in her mind. At a thought, her spell book appeared in her lap. She let the magic tingle at her shoulders, and she thought about the spark of light, the light of the Multiverse, lighting her mind bright as summer and warming her deep in her chest. She let the magic reach out to the Multiverse and let the Multiverse reach out to her. She tried to focus on Equestria and Twilight Sparkle or maybe on Jubilee and a school upstate, but the Multiverse shifted under her like a pile of loose sand, and she staggered through the Blind Eternities.

Chapter Text

Dor stepped from an alleyway.

This city reminded Dor of Jubilee’s futuristic New York City. There were massive towers, but they were closer to the center than where Dor had emerged from the Blind Eternities. She could see them though, a skyline scraped by towers. The buildings in New York City had been edifices of stone and glass, these buildings, even the humbler buildings near her, were tile-roofed with bright colors, white-washed, and less rigid in their facades. The street was quiet, only a few folk about on business.

A thick, savory smell attracted Dor’s attention, and she followed her nose to a two-story building with glossy red tile shingles and a wide, open window with a counter. Five wooden stools stood at the counter, three of which were occupied. Through the window, Dor could see a tall, heavy-set man working at a long stove. He was frying something in a large pan, the source of the smell.

The food in camp had been plentiful, if plain. Beans and rice and stock, for the most part. It was enough to keep her from going hungry, but it was nothing like the heavenly smell coming from the window. She approached before she knew it, standing to one side of the window, trying not to take up room.

“Hello there, dear. Can I get you something to eat?”

A small, thin woman with black hair, blue eyes, and a small nose, approached the counter. She looked a little like Jubilee.

Dor smiled but shook her head even as her stomach rumbled. “No, thank you. I, uh… I don’t have any money.”

The woman appraised her gently but shrewdly. “Have you run away from home?”

Dor shook her head. “Not really. I left the orphanage. The headmistress didn’t really want me there anyway.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was easier.

The woman gave a wry half-smile. “Did you learn any useful skills at the orphanage?”

Dor considered. She’d been taught to read, write, and figure. She’d been taught to scrub tables, sweep floors, and do laundry. She nodded. “Some.”

“Well I’m happy to take on a little extra help in exchange for a meal,” said the woman. “I’ve got a pantry that needs cleaned out and re-stocked. Are you up for it?”

Dor nodded. The thought of being fed making her eager. “Absolutely.”

“Come around to the front door and I’ll show you what needs done.”

Dor walked around the right side of the building to what was obviously the front of the house. The front door was sheltered by a tiled awning and was painted bright green. A terracotta pot with yellow flowers stood just to the left of the door and the stoop was well swept.

A trio of men approached the door. They wore sharp, expensive suits with red ties and pin-striped jackets. They wore brimmed hats with red hat bands. They had a sinister, aggressive look about them. They took no notice of Dor, but she balked nonetheless. The shortest of the trio had whispy facial hair, and he stepped forward and hammered at the door while the other two flanked him, like bodyguards.

A moment later, the woman opened the door.

“Mrs. Chen, so good to see you again.”

“Toshi. You can knock on the door. You don’t have to pound on it.” The small man looked chagrined. “Now, what do you need? We’re busy here.”

Toshi smirked. “Busy? Three customers is busy? My father’s restaurants seats sixty at a time.”

“Congratulations. Now, if you’re here for protection money, tell your father we already paid this month.” She made to close the door, but Toshi put a hand on it to stop her.

“That’s not the way it works, Mrs. Chen. I don’t tell my father what to do. And you, you don’t tell me what to do. The price of protection has gone up. You owe us another fifty yuan to ensure the safety of this lovely establishment.”

Mrs. Chen snorted derisively. “Another fifty yuan? There won’t be an establishment to protect if you take all our money, little Toshi.”

The short man stiffened, his face turning pink from embarrassment.

“Watch yourself, old woman. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of the Agni Kais.” He moved as though to grab Mrs. Chen.

Someone from inside the building, presumably the man working the stove, said something in a deep tone Dor couldn’t make out. Toshi hesitated then looked past Mrs. Chen. “Watch yourself, fat man! You don’t scare me.”

Mrs. Chen put her fists on her hips. “Now, hang on, Toshi. I’ve known your father for…”

But Toshi shoved Mrs. Chen. She shouted in surprise as she staggered back.

Dor reacted.

She thrust her hand at Toshi and the tingle in her shoulders snapped through her arm to a dazzling display of light and sound that exploded on Toshi’s chest—pink, green, yellow, blue—that sent him tumbling to the street, shouting wordlessly and rubbing at his eyes frantically. The two larger men turned to face her, and Dor’s heart leapt. She’d never been prone to confrontation, she wasn’t any good in a fight, and as the two men approached her she was certain she was in for it.

Dor backed up slowly, her shoulders tingling. She knew she could cast [Jubilee’s Dazzler] again but she didn’t know how many times before she exhausted herself.

A lash of water wrapped around an ankle of one of the men and jerked, pulling him to the street. The second thrust his fist at Dor, as though punching from afar, and a gout of flame launched at her. Dor dropped to the street with a squeak. The fire sailed over her head. She rolled to her feet awkwardly, trying to picture her spellbook. Another lash of water struck the man from behind and he stumbled forward just as Dor let loose another Dazzler. He cried out and fell to his knees swinging his arms about madly, unable to see or hear.

Dor looked about and found a girl with brown skin and flowing brown hair and bright blue eyes in an elegant stance, a stream of water suspend around her like a metaphysical liquid scarf, ready to strike at her command. The girl looked at Dor and smiled impishly.

“Enough!” Mrs. Chen shouted from the doorway.

Toshi staggered to his feet, shaking the last of the lights from his vision. “My father will hear of this!” he shouted. He swung his arm at Mrs. Chen but his fireball went wide and struck the side of the building. A big, black scorch mark marred the white-washed building. A moment later a splash of water hit the building and it steamed.

Five people in black uniforms under metal armor suddenly dropped from above, suspended on metal cables, surrounding them. As they landed, the cables retracted into devices on their wrists with high-pitched whirrs. They had golden badges on their left breasts, a sign of some office.

“All of you, on your knees! Put your hands on your heads, you’re under arrest!”

Dor immediately did as she was told.

Toshi spun in a quick circle before realizing he was surrounded. He hurled flame at one of them, a woman with dark curly hair and a pair of scars on her right cheek. Dor ducked and closed her eyes, even though the flame was nowhere near her. When she looked up, Toshi was bound in metal cabling, squirming on the street. His compatriots knelt, hands cuffed behind their backs. The girl with the water powers, faced with two of the people in armor, raised her hands and dropped to her knees. The water around her splashed to the street.

A horseless carriage, came around the corner and rolled toward them. One of the men in armor opened a pair of large, double doors and the large men in the suits and red ties were herded in.

The woman with curly hair and face scars approached Dor. Her expression was grim. “How old are you?”

Dor cleared her throat. “Thirteen.”

“Great, another minor. I haven’t seen you in this neighborhood before. Where are you from?”

“Wakefield.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s, uh, in the north.”

The woman grunted. “You a waterbender?”

“A what?”

The woman sighed. “If I let you loose, are you going cause any further trouble?”

Dor looked past the woman at the girl in blue who was being led to the carriage where the large men were already sitting on a bench on one side. The girl had her hands secured behind her back with metal cuffs.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Dor asked.

The woman didn’t even look. “Kya Chen is under arrest for disturbing the peace and public brawling. She’s done this before.”

Dor watched Kya as she was pushed up into the carriage. She sat across from the large men. Dor looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Chen, still standing in her doorway, hands on hips, expression furious but also worried.

“Those men attacked Mrs. Chen. Kya was just defending her.”

The woman held up a hand. “An officer will be by to take your statement. Stay out of trouble, kid.” She turned away.

Dor looked back at Mrs. Chen again, then at the woman in metal armor. “No.”

The woman stopped. She turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“I… If you let me go, I won’t stay out of trouble. I should go with Kya.”

The woman considered for a moment, her gaze flickered behind Dor, then she nodded. “Right then. You’re under arrest for disturbing the peace. Put your hands behind your back and turn around.”

Dor slung her bedroll off her back and turned around. Mrs. Chen was watching Kya, but she looked at Dor when she turned around. Dor set her pack on the street, and Mrs. Chen hurried forward.

“Don’t worry dear. I’ll have you out by this evening. Shall I keep this for you until then?”

“Yes, please.” Dor put her hands behind her back. “I’ll tell them what happened. And I’ll keep an eye on Kya for you.” The woman in the armor snapped a pair of metal cuffs around her wrists. Dor remembered what Jubilee had said about the police in her futuristic New York City. She hoped the police of this city could be trusted.

Mrs. Chen smiled. Then she looked behind Dor. “Sergeant Beifong.”

“Mrs. Chen.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any talking you out of arresting my daughter?”

“She’s had her share of second chances. You can pick her up at the prescient on 37^th street.”

Sergeant Beifong put a hand on Dor’s shoulder and steered her to the carriage. Dor climbed in and sat next to Kya on the metal bench, facing the two large men. Up close, Dor could see their suits, while nicer than anything Dor had ever worn, weren’t as nice as those she’d seen on the rich men who occasionally visited St. Bridget’s Orphanage looking to adopt a child.

“Hi. I’m Kya,” said the girl in blue.

Dor nodded. “I’m Dorothy Alice Wendy. You can call me Dor.”

“Thanks for standing up for my mom.”

“I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“You should have,” said one of the large men. “Mr. Sakaguchi won’t like it you interfered. You two should have kept your noses out of it.”

“That’s my mother you attacked!” Kya stood, smacking her head on the metal ceiling of the carriage. She sat with a wince and a thump.

Their conversation was interrupted by a squabble and scuffle in the street. All four of them craned to look. Toshi was refusing to get to his feet willingly. Two of the police officers were trying to get him up while he squirmed and shouted obscenities. Eventually, Sergeant Beifong thrust her hand at him, and a cable shot from her wrist. Dor watched, fascinated, as a pair of wheels upon her back spun, unspooling the cable from a pack built into her armor. The cable attached to the cable already binding Toshi. With a casual flick of her wrist, she lifted Toshi with her cable and flung him into the carriage. He landed with a thump and a groan.

Sergeant Beifong gave them all a look. “Behave.” With a gesture, she slammed the doors closed.

The carriage grumbled to life and began moving. They weathered the ride in silence, except Toshi who grumbled and complained the whole way. Ten minutes later, the doors were opened. The two large men were directed to exit first, then Toshi was dragged out, and finally Sergeant Beifong appeared.

“Come on you two.”

Dor and Kya stood and shuffled out of the carriage and into the backside of a building. They entered a large room filled with desks and police officers and criminals and regular folks. Dor felt her shoulders tighten. So many people in one room was off-putting. She looked around for Toshi and the others, but didn’t see them. Sergeant Beifong put a hand on their shoulders and steered them through the room to a metal desk with neatly ordered stacks of papers in folders, writing utensils, and other items Dor didn’t recognize. She sat at the desk, pulled out a folder and a piece of paper from the folder. She took up a pen and looked at them.

“Kya Chen, I already have your information, you may sit.” She nodded at a wooden stool beside her desk.

“What if I don’t want to sit?” Kya said, tone defiant.

Sergeant Beifong’s jaw clenched before she said, “What if I put you in general lock up with those gangsters you defied today?”

“I’m not afraid.”

Sergeant Beifong sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just sit down. Please?”

Dor looked at Kya, who looked at Dor. Dor shrugged. Kya grinned, but she sat.

“All right. You, what’s your name?”

“Dor.”

Sergeant Beifong growled and tossed the pen and paper on her desktop. She stood and planted her hands on the desk, leaning toward Dor, barely containing her fury.

“Don’t play games with me, girl.”

“I… I’m sorry. My name is Dorothy Alice Wendy. Most everyone calls me Dor.” Despite her spike in fear, Dor didn’t think Sergeant Beifong would hurt her. Even so, she didn’t want to make the woman angry.

Sergeant Beifong took a deep breath, sat, and wrote for a moment. “Place of birth?”

“I don’t know.” Before Sergeant Beifong could growl at her, Dor hurried on. “I’m an orphan. I was raised at St. Bridget’s Orphanage in Wakefield, Quebec.”

Sergeant Beifong wrote this down, then said, “I’ve never heard of any of those places.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s, uh, very far away from here.”

“Huh. Are you a bender?”

“A what?”

Sergeant Beifong raised an eyebrow at her, slowly.

“Uh… no.”

Sergeant Beifong wrote for a few minutes, looking up at Dor every once in a while. When she was done, she stood and withdrew a few items from her desk. She unlocked the cuffs holding her, then, one by one, pressed her fingers onto an inkpad and then onto a chart. Despite herself, Dor was fascinated. She’d read of using fingerprints to identify criminals in Doyle’s Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, but had never thought she’d see it firsthand.

When she was done, Sergeant Beifong stood. “Follow me.” She led them down a hallway to a closed door. She knocked at a metal panel and a few moments later, the door opened. Dor realized the sergeant had neglected to replace the metal cuffs. She wondered if it was a mistake.

“Uh, sergeant? I, uh, you didn’t put the cuffs back on.”

Without looking back, she said, “You gonna cause me any trouble?”

“No ma’am.”

Sergeant Beifong turned right down a long hallway, on either side of which were cells with metal walls, fronted by metal bars. The people in the cells looked up as they passed, but one look at Sergeant Beifong and they kept their peace. Sergeant Beifong stopped in front of an empty cell and gestured with both hands. A section of the bars slid aside. Dor walked in while the sergeant un-cuffed Kya, who followed, rubbing at her arms.

“You two behave.”

There were two metal platforms topped with a thin pallet on either side of the cell. Otherwise, it was empty. Kya sat on the one on the right, so Dor sat on the one of the left.

“First time being arrested?” Kya asked.

Dor nodded. “Not you though?”

Kya shook her head. “Fifth time. I got off with a warning a few times. Mom and dad are popular with the beat cops. Last couple times though, I got brought in.”

Dor cleared her throat nervously. She’d thought Kya was just defending her home, her mother, but the way she talked about being arrested, Dor wondered if she’d been incarcerated with a hardened criminal.

“What for?” Dor asked.

“Tangling with the Agni Kai. They’re a gang of firebenders causing trouble in my neighborhood. Mom and dad say I should keep my head down, that the gangsters aren’t so bad, but I hate how they extort my parents. I’m getting better with my bending skills, so I stand up to them every chance I get.”

Dor nodded. She could understand where Kya’s parents were coming from, but she understood Kya too. She didn’t want to just keep her head down anymore, and the blue-eyed girl’s confidence was infectious.

“So, that sparkly light thing you did, are you some kind of special firebender?” Kya asked.

Dor shook her head, then shrugged. “I don’t think so. I don’t really know what a firebender is.”

Kya laughed before she realized Dor wasn’t kidding. “Wow. You must be really isolated where you come from.”

“Not really.” She debated whether or not to tell Kya her story.

“Well, what’s that mean? Everybody knows about bending.”

“I could explain, but you probably won’t believe me. I can hardly believe it myself.”

Kya grinned. “This is a joke, right? Some kind of elaborate prank? I’m not sure we know each other well enough to play pranks.”

Dor shrugged again. “Maybe you want to tell me why those guys were harassing your mother?”

Kya stood and started pacing the length of the cell. “Because the Agni Kai gang thinks they can expand their territory. There used to be another gang who claimed the neighborhood, the Soggy Bottoms, but they were really zen. They didn’t extort my parents for protection money. They just tried to keep the peace when the metalbender cops couldn’t. Since Avatar Aang died, it’s been a little chaotic in Republic City.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Dor.

Kya stopped her pacing and looked at Dor, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t know who Avatar Aang is, do you?”

Dor shook her head.

“Are you from outer space?”

“Something like that,” said Dor.

“Really? No, this is a joke, right?”

“So, how long do you think they’re going to keep us here? Will there be a trial?” Dor asked.

“No, no, no,” said Kya. “You have to explain that.”

“You sure?”

Kya nodded.

“What I told the sergeant is true. I’m an orphan. I don’t know who my parents are. I don’t know where I was born. I was raised at St. Bridget’s Orphanage in Wakefield, Quebec, a province in Canada. But I’m pretty sure you’ve never heard of any of those places.

Kya shook her head.

“That’s because they’re not on this world. They’re not even on this plane of existence. Where I come from, there’s no magic, no, uh… what did you call it?”

“Bending?” said Kya.

“Right. No bending. But one day I was…” Dor cleared her throat uncomfortably. “One day, a new girl arrived. She’s awful. One thing led to another and I fell off the roof of the orphanage. Rather than falling to my certain doom, I ended up in a forest, the Everfree Forest, in Equestria, and I met a talking purple unicorn named Twilight Sparkle.”

Kya guffawed but after a few moments she sobered. “You’re telling the truth.”

“I am.” Dor told Kya about her adventures and about Elmira Gulch.

“Well, if she shows up here, I’ve got your back. You defended my mom, and nothing’s more important to me than family.”

Dor smiled.

“So, this thing you can do, it’s magic?”

Dor nodded.

“I always thought magic was just a story.”

“Your bending isn’t a form of magic?”

Kya shook her head. “Bending is a way of moving with your chi and connecting to the natural world. A person with the right predilection can then bend one of the four elements: earth, fire, air, or,” she gestured at herself, “water. I’m a waterbender. Grandma was a bender from the southern water tribe. Dad’s grandparents are from the Earth Kingdom, but he doesn’t have any benders in his ancestry. Grandma taught me some bending before she passed on.” Kya sighed sadly. “Mom doesn’t like it when I waterbend. She thinks it’s going to get me in trouble.” She got up and started pacing again. “She’s always on my case about things like that. She thinks I should just keep my head down and work hard and help the family. And I want to help. I love my parents. But I just… I don’t want to work in a foodstall the rest of my life, you know?”

Dor thought the idea of working in a quiet food stall sounded nice, but she nodded supportively.

“And I don’t mean to cause trouble. I don’t want to get arrested, but gangsters like those Agni Kai need to understand they can’t just push people around. Eventually, someone’s going to push back.”

“And that someone is going to be you?”

“If I have to,” Kya said. She gave Dor an aggressive look.

Dor held her hands up. “I’m certainly not going to try to tell you want to do.”

Kya sat back on her cot with a sigh. “So, if you’re not a firebender then what are you?”

“I’m not sure. A planeswalker I suppose, except I don’t know how to planeswalk anywhere specific. And if I see someone do something fantastical, sometimes it becomes a playing card in my mind. But not always.”

“What have you learned to do?”

“You remember I told you about the girl in that big, futuristic city?”

Kya nodded enthusiastically.

“Her name is Jubilee and she can shoot sparks from her fingers to stun things.”

“Like the mechanical spiders?”

“Right. And that’s what I did to Toshi, I hit him with [Jubilee’s Dazzler].”

Kya whistled. “Not bending, but real, actual magic.”

Dor took a deep, back-popping breath. Her vision fuzzed and she yawned hard. “Oof. Pardon me, Kya. I’m exhausted. I left Ivalice just before I was going to go to bed. I’m a few hours into when I should be asleep.”

“No problem. You can sleep if you want. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Dor lay on her back on the cot. She closed her eyes and focused on the room in her mind while trying to let her body relax. The room came readily. She sat cross-legged and the book appeared on her lap. She opened it and, to her surprise, found a fourth, white-bordered playing card had joined the others.

Minwu’s Lifa                                      

Cost:     2WWW

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Cleric Instant

Text:     Return target creature you own that died this turn to the battlefield under your control.

The art depicted Minwu, holding her staff in both hands, eyes closed, expression peaceful, surrounded by a bright, golden halo, the barest hint of fiery wings behind her.

A clang of metal on metal and incoherent shouting woke Dor. She sat up quickly and looked around. After a few breaths she calmed her racing heart. Whoever had shouted wasn’t in the cell with them.

Kya stood in the middle of the room, stance wide, arms upraised, moving slowly from stance to stance as though dancing. Dor put her back to the metal wall and drew her knees to her chest. The shouting down the hallway continued. There was the sound of a scuffle, and more people joined in the shouting. Dor hunched her shoulders before she caught herself. She forced herself to relax, watching Kya’s slow, sure movement. She made herself take a deep breath, and then another. She let the image of the room in her mind enter her thoughts, though she did not close her eyes. She kept her eyes on Kya, her graceful movements, her flowing hair, her serene expression, and though the shouting grew, her shoulders relaxed.

When she was finished, Kya turned and bowed to Dor. “How’d I do?”

Dor shrugged. “You looked amazing to me. What is it?”

“It’s the first form grandma ever taught me. It’s just the basics, but it’s how I learned waterbending.”

“Was there supposed to be water?”

Kya shook her head. “You can’t bend an element if it isn’t already present. That’s why I keep a flask on me at all times. Those metalbender jackboots took it though.”

“But Toshi and the others…”

“Firebenders create fire from the passion of their souls. Or maybe it’s their body heat. I’m not sure anyone knows for certain.”

“That’s fascinating.”

Kya shrugged.

“Do you think you could teach me?”

Kya nodded. “Sure. Do you think you can learn waterbending like you did those other things?”

Dor popped off the cot. “I don’t know. But, I don’t move that well. When those men came toward me, I just flailed and ducked. But you, you’re so graceful. If I could learn even a tenth of that I’d be much better off.”

Kya grinned and Dor blushed.

Dor stood in the center of the room and let Kya show her how to stand: feet shoulder-width apart, arms loose at her side, relaxed. That took the better part of ten minutes. Dor was too stiff, and found it awkward where Kya put her feet. Then Kya showed her how to move into the second stance, hands outstretched, pulling her left foot close but not quite touching her right. And then the third stance with her right foot stretched out back and her right arm arced over her head. All of this was to be done slowly, as slowly as she could manage. Dor hadn’t realized how difficult it was to move slowly.

They made it through the stances and started again, and Dor couldn’t remember which stance came after the first. Kya, with all the patience of a guru showed her again, step by step.

“I’m really bad at this,” said Dor.

“Yeah, you’re pretty bad.”

Dor snorted and giggled. Kya laughed loudly.

“Well, I’m so glad you’re having fun.” Mrs. Chen’s voice snapped into the cell.

Dor and Kya turned to face the bars wide-eyed and guilty. Dor felt herself blush furiously, her eyes watery with shame. She willed herself not to cry. Mrs. Chen stood with hands on hips, next to Sergeant Beifong. Both women looked stern and disapproving. Dor’s backside tingled uncomfortably.

“Mom,” said Kya. “I… I’m really sorry. Thanks for coming.”

Sergeant Beifong slid the cell door to the side with a gesture. Dor had assumed it was magic, now she understood it was metalbending. The Sergeant pointed at Dor. “The Republic City attorney won’t be filing charges against you, considering this is your first offense and your age, but stay out of trouble”

Dor nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She pointed at Kya. “You are released under your family’s supervision. This is your fifth offense, Kya Chen. You won’t get many more chances, but as you were acting in self-defense, I got the Republic City attorney to forego charges. This time. Understood?”

Kya nodded. “Yes, sergeant.”

“Come on you two, we’re going home,” Mrs. Chen said, voice firm. Kya followed her mother meekly, posture at great odds with the restless confidence Dor had seen the last few hours. Dor hurried after, skin atingle with excitement, uncertainty, and a lack of sleep.

Chapter Text

They left through the front entrance, a pair of large, metal double doors, onto a wide street filled with horseless carriages rumbling along the way and pedestrians hurrying about their tasks. It was busy and crowded and Dor found herself uncertain. Perhaps it was time to planeswalk again, before Elmira found her.

“You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” said Kya.

Dor blinked at the other girl. Mrs. Chen was already walking down the street, back strait, shoulders firm.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Dor said.

“It’s not any trouble. You defended my family and my home. I’d like to invite you to dinner. If you want.”

Dor’s stomach rumbled and she smiled shyly. “I would very much appreciate that.”

It was about a twenty-five minute walk from the police station to the Chen’s house. Mrs. Chen led the way. She didn’t look at them or speak to them. Kya walked close to Dor, as though sheltering from her mother’s ire.

When they got to the house, the tall, heavy-set man Dor had seen working the kitchen, was outside the front door with a pail and a brush, white-washing the scorch mark. When he saw them, he put the items down, hugged Mrs. Chen, and kissed the top of her head. They murmured to each other briefly before she went inside. Then he stepped up to Kya and hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head as he had her mother’s.

“Daddy, this is Dorothy Alice Wendy. Everyone calls her Dor.”

Dor stuck her hand out, but he bowed to Dor and she returned the bow as best she could.

“Thank you for what you did today.” His voice was deep and soft. “You are always welcome to eat at our table.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Kya heaved a great sigh. “Time to face the dragon, I suppose.”

She led the way inside. Mrs. Chen stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed. Her stern expression had softened during the walk home. Now she looked more disappointed than anything else.

“Kya, we have talked about this. I do not want you getting involved with gangsters.”

“I’m not involved with them mom, I’m trying to stand up to them.”

Mrs. Chen held up a finger and Kya’s mouth clacked shut.

“Any entanglement with these people is bad—bad for our business and bad for our family. Now, I had a talk with Mr. Sakaguchi.”

Kya gasped. “You did what?”

“He needs to understand we’re not trying to challenge his authority. Homes are burned for less, Kya. Sometimes worse. Mr. Sakaguchi said he understood the recklessness of youth and assured me the protection payment has not increased.”

“So it’s all right for you get involved with—“

“That’s enough! I have known Mr. Sakaguchi for decades. You are impetuous. You’re going to get hurt if you don’t stop.” A tear fled down Mrs. Chen’s cheek and she cleared her throat roughly. “Upstairs. Now.” She snapped her fingers and pointed up the stairs.

Kya hurried to obey.

Dor stood awkwardly, watching Kya. When Mrs. Chen’s gaze turned to her, she swallowed hard.

“Your name is Dorothy?”

Dor nodded. “You can call me Dor.”

“I appreciate what you did today, for my daughter, for my home. You didn’t have to do that.”

Dor shrugged uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to cause you or your family any trouble. Honestly, Mrs. Chen, Kya was only defending you.”

Mrs. Chen’s expression turned stern, but she nodded. “Even so, she must learn subtlety and control. She’s far too reckless.” She took a breath to settle herself. “Would you mind helping Po in the kitchen?”

“Not at all.” Dor bowed to Mrs. Chen as she had Kya’s father and turned away as Mrs. Chen went up the stairs. It wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. The smell of frying food was thick in the house. She found the large man opening the shutter over the long window with a winch on the side.

“Mrs. Chen said I should sweep out the pantry,” said Dor.

“Hmm.” Mr. Chen nodded and gestured at the far side of the kitchen where a doorway led to a room inside of which were mostly empty wooden crates of vegetables and bags of flower and dried meat, and other ingredients Dor didn’t know. There was a broom in the corner and she set to work.

She’d only gotten started when she heard the unmistakable sound of a bare-bottom spanking. For all the toughness Kya had shown in prison, she sounded just like every other girl Dor had heard getting a spanking. She yelped and cried and wailed and promised to be good. Mrs. Chen seemed a thorough spanker; the chastisement held a steady rhythm.

Dor blushed and cringed.

She stacked the bags and crates on one side and swept out the other, then swapped sides. She took the sweepings to a dustbin outback, directed by Mr. Chen, where she found a cart stopped by the gate and a man disembarking. Dor fetched Mr. Chen, and when the new crates of ingredients had been signed for, she hauled them in and stocked the pantry.

Mrs. Chen joined them as customers began to arrive, lured by the tantalizing scent of Po Chen’s cooking.

“Po put you to work already?” Mrs. Chen said, a forced lightness to her tone.

Dor looked up from where she bent over a crate to unload it. Mrs. Chen looked a bit flush, a bit sad. Dor had never seen Sister Mary Margaret look sad after spanking her.

“That was the deal,” Dor said.

“You don’t have to do chores for us,” Mrs. Chen said. “That was before all this trouble.”

Dor shook her head. “Honestly, ma’am, I’m not sure I’m any more innocent of troublemaking than Kya in all this. If you wanted to spank me too, I would absolutely understand. Either way, we made a deal and I’d prefer not to go back on it.”

Mrs. Chen considered for a moment, and nodded. “You’re not my daughter, and I don’t think you deserve a spanking. I appreciate you helping out.”

Dor knew her way around a kitchen well enough, though she wasn’t much of a cook. After a while, she realized there was a similar rhythm to things in the Chen’s kitchen as there had been in Minwu’s healing ward and she was soon able to predict when he would want which tool or which ingredient, when it was time to serve a plate or chop a vegetable. As the sky darkened, demand increased. Mrs. Chen lit lanterns on the outside of the building.

To Dor’s surprise, Kya joined them not long thereafter, eyes red and expression meek, but confident and helpful in the kitchen nonetheless. She shot Dor a rueful grin and Dor smiled back. She was glad Kya wasn’t resentful or angry or heartbroken after her spanking.

Hours later, after the last customer was gone, the window was closed, and the four of them had cleaned the kitchen and organized the pantry, they all sat in the Chen’s cozy dining room around a circular table and ate the most amazing meal Dor had ever had. There was chicken dumplings and wanton soup and fried rice and chow mein, and even though Dor didn’t know all those words, the food was amazing and she had two servings, helping Kya to eat all the food Mr. Chen had cooked. It was the first meal she’d ever had where she was encouraged to eat as much as she liked, where the companionship was palpable, where there was open laughter and smiles.

Dor helped clean up after dinner while Mr. and Mrs. Chen played a game on a cross-hatch board with black and white stones.

When the cleanup was done, Kya said, “You’re welcome to sleep in my room as long as you’re staying with us. Or you can put out your bedroll in the living room if you prefer.”

“I’d be happy to stay in your room. Thank you.”

Kya smiled and took her hand. “Come on.” She led Dor upstairs and down a hall to her bedroom. Dor knew the sisters at St. Bridget’s had their own quarters, but other than the room she’d woken in at Princess Celestia’s palace, she’d never seen a private bedroom before. It was cozy, but big enough for a wardrobe, desk, armless chair, and a bed beyond luxurious by orphanage standards. It had a thick wooden frame and four posts with curtains. She counted five pillows and there was at least enough room for three orphans.

On the floor was a pallet inexpertly made up of blankets and pillows.

“You can take the bed. I’ll take the floor,” Kya said.

“What? I can’t take your bed. That would be beyond rude.”

Kya shook her bed. “It’d be rude if I didn’t offer, and I’ve had my spanking for the day, thank you.”

Dor blushed but Kya giggled.

“Well it’s a pretty big bed. We could share if you like,” said Dor.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

Dor’s bedroll was in the corner by the desk, and she unrolled it enough to collect her clothes. She stripped shyly, but Kya had no such reservations, she pulled off her shirt and pants to reveal a pair of high-cut, bright blue drawers with a white waistband and a matching blue brassier. Her dark skin was smooth and unblemished, muscles shifting gracefully on her lithe body. Kya caught Dor looking at her before she could look away, and she grinned. Dor pulled on her night shirt and Kya dressed in a pair of loose pants and shirt.

After some squirming and jostling and snuggling, they found a comfortable arrangement, Dor on the left, Kya on the right. The window was open and the room was cool, but they were warm under the comforters.

“Dor, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Have… have you ever been spanked?”

“Many, many times. At the orphanage, all the sisters were allowed to spank any girl at any time for any reason. Sister Mary Margaret, the headmistress, she was the worst. She always spanked bare bottom and sometimes with a cane.”

“But, you’re so well behaved. What did she spank you for?”

“My imagination. She thought it was an affront to God.”

“What’s god?”

Dor’s bottom tingled at the blasphemous question. “Where I come from, He’s thought to be the creator of the world and all life. I… I’m not sure I believe it though.”

“So, he’s like a spirit from the spirit world?”

Dor shrugged. “Maybe. I imagine things are different here.”

“I suppose you don’t really approve of spanking then?”

Dor sighed. “I told you about Minwu, the white mage, right?”

Kya nodded.

“She spanked me too. But… she only did it when I did something dangerous or when… when I asked her to. And her spankings never felt mean, they never hurt as deeply as Sister Mary Margaret’s.”

“So, you don’t think my mother is awful for spanking me?”

“No. I think your mother is wonderful. She cares about you and… and I know you don’t want to hear it, but my brief experience with the War of the Lions made me think fighting isn’t the best way to solve a problem. That said, I understand being unable to stand aside when people are being hurt.”

Kya sighed. “I wouldn’t fight if they didn’t start it.”

Dor yawned, the length of the day catching up with her. She yawned again, harder.

The Chens easily incorporated Dor into their domestic rhythm. She helped with the food stall and did laundry and swept, all of which she’d done at the orphanage, but on a more personal scale. Mrs. Chen said Dor was a good influence on Kya and Kya agreed.

“All this stuff is much less boring when you’re here,” Kya said.

And when the chores were done, Kya showed Dor the waterbending forms she knew. Mrs. Chen didn’t object, though Dor could tell it made her uncomfortable. That first day, at midmorning, before the lunch crowd, Kya walked Dor though the stances she’d taught her in their cell. The third time through, Dor remembered all the motions, even if she was still awkward. Kya cheered her on enthusiastically.

On the second day, Dor managed the form without prompting. And when she came to the last stance, pulling her feet together and her hands in front of her as though in prayer, there was a tingle at her shoulders and a playing card flickered ever so briefly in her mind’s eye. It was blue-bordered instead of white, and her surprise scattered it from her mind.

“What was that?” said Kya. “Your expression just now, it’s like you saw something unexpected.”

“I… I saw a card. For just a moment.”

Kya smiled broadly. “You’re learning to become a waterbender, aren’t you?”

“Maybe? As I’ve said, I don’t precisely understand how my powers work.”

Kya smiled exuberantly and fetched a pail of water from the cistern. With a careful movement she pulled a streamer of water from it and went through the motions of the basic form.

“You have to feel the water around you. It’s everywhere: in the ground, in the air, even in ourselves. You must be at one with it. Water is formless. With it you can adapt to any situation. You can make your opponents into allies. You can make their strengths your strengths.” She moved through each stance with fluid grace and when she came to the end, she poured the water back into the bucket.

“Now, you try.”

Dor closed her eyes and moved to the first stance. She could feel the tingle at her neck as she moved through the form. She could taste the water on the air. But there was no playing card and the water didn’t move.

“That’s all right,” said Kya. “We’ll just have to keep trying.”

And they did.

Whenever there was a free moment, they went to the backyard and practiced. Kya showed her more advanced forms, snapping water like a whip, flinging it like a dart, even freezing and unfreezing it.

“That’s extraordinarily impressive,” said Dor.

Kya blushed. “Nah, I’m only a beginner.”

And on the fifth day, Dor managed it.

She went through the basic form, eyes closed, shoulders tingling and when she came to a stop, there was a splash and her feet were soaked. In her mind’s eye, a blue-bordered playing card rippled into existence.

Kya’s Waterbending                            

Cost:     1U

Type:    Elemental Enchantment – Water Aura

Text:     Enchant a creature you control (target a creature you control as you cast this. This enters the battlefield attached to that creature.)

UU: Enchanted creature gets +1/-1 or -1/+1 until end of turn. This ability cannot be used if it would reduce enchanted creature's toughness to less than 1.

The card was bordered in blue rather than white, and featured Kya in middle of practicing the basic forms, a ribbon of water about her shoulders.

Kya whooped with glee and grabbed Dor in an enthusiastic embrace. Dor knew Kya was more fit than she was, but she hadn’t realized how strong the other girl was. Dor smiled broadly and hugged her back even as the other girl lifted her off the ground and spun her about. Dor squealed. Kya put her on her feet.

“You did it! I can’t believe you learned to be a waterbender.” And she kissed Dor soundly on the cheek.

Dor gasped and Kya let her go and backed up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Dor touched her cheek. “You didn’t?”

“No. I mean it was just…”

Dor smiled shyly. “It’s okay.”

“Really?”

Dor nodded. “It was nice.”

That evening, at dinner, Kya proudly told her parents of Dor’s accomplishment.

“I’d have said it was not possible had I not seen it myself,” Mrs. Chen said.

“You were watching us?” Kya asked with a hint of trepidation.

“Occasionally.”

“It must be because I’m not from here,” Dor said. On her second night with the Chens, she’d told them about her planeswalking. She didn’t know if they believed her, but they didn’t challenge her on it. “I’ve learned other things too, like I’ve told you.”

Mr. and Mrs. Chen exchanged a look.

“I think we should keep this between us. I don’t know how others would react and we don’t want any undue attention,” Mrs. Chen said.  

That night, when Kya and Dor changed for bed, Kya didn’t put on her customary pajamas, instead getting into bed in only her brassier and short drawers. Though Dor was fastidious with her laundry, Kya offered to loan her extra clothes and Dor accepted for sake of variety. Kya was larger around the hips and bust than Dor, so Kya’s shirts and pants hung a bit on her, but she was too grateful to complain. Most commonly she’d borrowed Kya’s pajamas. When Kya didn’t wear any, Dor wore just her nightgown instead.

They snuggled close under the comforter. Kya turned on her side and put her arm around Dor’s waist. It felt comfortable, natural, and Dor did not object. Instead she kissed Kya’s cheek.

“Thank you for teaching me,” Dor said.

“Thanks for being such a great student,” Kya said.

Despite the excitement of having Kya so close, the work of the day had Dor soon asleep.

Dor was surprised when the day did not begin with preparing the kitchen.

“Our fine establishment takes Sunday off.” Kya said.

“Oh, it’s Sunday? Where I come from that’s also a day of rest.”

Kya was not as enthralled with the etymological similarities and differences between their worlds. It only seemed natural to her that they speak the same language, even though Dor had tried to explain to her how unlikely that was.

Kya shrugged. “Anyway, mom and dad like to take the day to wander the city. They say it’s romantic.”

“That’s sweet,” said Dor.

“If you say so. I thought we might do something too.”

Since arriving, Dor had not left the walls of the Chen’s property. The thought made her nervous. What if Elmira was out there somewhere, looking for her? What if they ran into the Agni Kai? What if any number of bad things happened? On the other hand, Kya was asking her out, and she wasn’t about to say no.

“Like what?”

“Oh, there’s a market a couple neighborhoods over.”

Before Mr. and Mrs. Chen left, Mrs. Chen handed Kya a small purse of coins and gave another to Dor. “Five yuan apiece.”

“Thanks, mom,” said Kya, kissing her cheek.

“You’re paying me?” said Dor. “The deal was food for work, not payment.”

Mrs. Chen made a dismissive sound. “That’s the deal I make with travelers who need a bit of help. You are a friend of the family so get treated like family.” She gave them both a stern look. “Speaking of which, you two behave today. If I have to bail you out of jail again, you won’t sit comfortably for days. Understood?”

Dor felt a small thrill of fear, but as with Minwu, she was confident Mrs. Chen would never spank her unfairly or meanly. Kya rolled her eyes.

“We’re not gonna get in trouble. Dor will keep an eye on me, right Dor?”

Dor nodded. “Yes, ma’am. No trouble here.”

“Good girls.”

Mr. and Mrs. Chen left, hand in hand. Kya led Dor the other way.

It was a twenty minute walk to the market. Dor tried not to gawk. Republic City was like New York City in its bustling crowdedness, but was so unlike it in its architecture. The buildings here seemed much more in tune with their natural surroundings. Even so, it had its futuristic trappings: motorized vehicles, satomobiles, Kya called them, and the metal cables strung above the streets, and the massive hot air balloons wandering the skies, and the evidence of everyday bending. There were the earthbenders fixing a street, the waterbenders unclogging a storm drain, and, when they got to the market, firebenders cooking at stalls and doing street performance.

“What about airbenders?” Dor asked.

Kya gave her a look. “I forgot you didn’t know. A hundred some years ago, the Fire Nation nearly wiped them all out. Avatar Aang was the last, but now his kids and grandkids, some of them anyway, they’re airbenders too. They live on Airbender Island, out in the bay. She waved vaguely in a direction.

They wandered the market through a variety of stalls: clothes and jewelry, food and trinkets, so on and so forth. Kya bought a pink scarf to hold back her hair for two yuan and bought them both grilled steak and on stick for half a yuan. Dor bought them lemonade, but didn’t know else what to buy so decided to save her money. They wandered the market, watching the performers and examining the wares for an hour or so before Kya suddenly put a hand on Dor’s arm.

“I don’t want to worry you, but I think I see some Agni Kai.”

Dor stiffened, then forced herself to relax. “Where?”

“Don’t look, but behind us”

They walked a little before turning casually. Down a small side street, a man in the rough clothes of a workman stood beside a non-descript door. A man in an expensive suit and a brimmed hat with a red hatband just disappeared through the door, giving the man guarding it a short nod.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Dor asked.

“Nothing good. Come on.” Kya led them down the block and turned down a different side street to the backside of the building. “It’s a warehouse,” Kya mused under her breath, looking at the building. Her gaze stopped upon a window lit from within.

“What are you doing?” Dor asked.

“I just want to take a peek. If nothing’s going on, I’ll forget it. If something is, I’ll let our friend Beifong deal with it.”

Dor bit her lip. “This is a bad idea.”

“Look, there’s a balcony there, across the street. We can climb up there and then look through the window. The street’s narrow enough we might see something.”

Before Dor could object, Kya leapt, caught the bottom of the balcony, and pulled herself up easily. She leaned over the railing and held her hand out to Dor. Regretting it, Dor jumped and caught Kya’s hand and let her haul her up. From their vantage, they could see through the window, but all they could see was that it was well lit within.

“Huh,” Kya muttered.

“I have an idea,” said Dor. “But you have to promise all we’re going to do is look.”

Kya grinned at her. “Promise.”

Dor took Kya’s hand, closed her eyes, and opened the spell book in her mind’s eye. The playing cards had re-arranged themselves. There were five spells now, the four white-bordered cards organized in alphabetical order, top to bottom, left to right, followed by the single blue-bordered card:

[Jubilee’s Dazzler]

[Minwu’s Cura]

[Minwu’s Lifa]

[Twilight’s Blink]

[Kya’s Waterbending]

Dor channeled the mana tingling at her shoulders into [Twilight’s Blink]. With a crack of magic, she and Kya teleported from the balcony, past the window, into the building.

They stood upon a wooden balcony overlooking a large room. The room was lit with electric lights hanging from the ceiling, a marvel Dor had only ever heard of. Satomobiles were parked in a line along one wall. Men in coveralls worked on the machines with a variety of tools. There was a lot of conversation and the sound of machines whirring. The room was filled with the faint haze of machinery running in an enclosed space.

“Look there,” Kya whispered.

Toshi stood at one end of the room, talking with a man in coveralls. Dor’s chest tightened at the sight of him.

“Any chance this a legitimate business?” Dor whispered.

“Like what?” Kya whispered back.

Dor shrugged. “Satomobiles need to be repaired, right?”

Kya shook her head. “This is a chop shop. They steal cars and take them apart to sell the parts.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard a rumor they might be operating in this area.”

Dor frowned. “Is that why you brought us here? To hunt Agni Kai?”

Kya cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Come on.” Dor held her hand out to Kya. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” said Kya. “Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The water in the pipes. There’s some big ones under the building”

“Kya, no.”

“Dor, we could stop them.”

“Kya, you promised me.”

But the other girl closed her eyes, stood, and took a stance. She swayed back and forth, back and forth, moving her arms in a way that evoked undulating waves. Dor looked anxiously over the railing, but no one seemed to have noticed Kya. Not yet. A faint groan vibrated the air. Dor looked at Kya, who sweated with the effort. With a sigh, Dor stood and closed her eyes. Even through her fear and frustration, Dor summoned her spellbook and opened it.

[Kya’s Waterbending] depicted Kya mid-movement, long brown hair flowing, blue eyes shining, brown skin glowing, a streamer of water poised at her command. Dor touched the blue-bordered playing card.

She could feel the water. There was a lot of it. The awareness filled her and she added her motion to Kya’s. The pressure built. The pipes rumbled. Something, somewhere, snapped. With a crack that echoed over the noise of the place, it burst. Water poured into the building, splashing over the satomobiles and onto the floor. Then there was another, and another, and within moments there was an inch of water on the floor.

Kya put a hand on Dor’s arm. “That’s good enough. Get us out of here.”

Dor nodded. “Right.”

The shouting and carrying on from below made her heart race, but she concentrated on the spellbook and it came to her readily.

“Hey look! Up there!”

The crack of teleportation filled her even as a streak of fire blasted past. They stood on the side street outside. Kya hissed with pain.

“What’s wrong?” Dor opened her eyes. It was immediately obvious. Kya’s left shoulder was burned, the shirt charred away, the skin angry red and blistering fast.

“I’m fine,” said Kya. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dor let Kya lead her down the side street to an alleyway to another side street until finally the pain caught up with her. She collapsed against the side of a building, breathing hard, damp with sweat.

“Let me,” said Dor. She called upon the mana at her shoulders, imagined [Minwu’s Cura], and channeled the power into Kya’s shoulder, healing the burn. She hadn’t cast so many spells in such quick succession before and she felt exhaustion creeping up her neck. “That might be as much as I can do. If I use too much magic, I might faint from it.”

“I think we’re well out of it,” said Kya, rotating her shoulder gingerly. “But let’s not linger.”

Before long they were walking into the backyard of the Chen’s residence. Dor immediately felt better. Kya stripped off her burned shirt and buried it in the trash bin.

Dor had seen Kya’s brassier many times now, but it still made her blush.

They went inside and up to Kya’s room and collapsed side by side on the bed. For several minutes, neither of them said anything.

“Well,” said Kya eventually. “That was exciting.”

Dor sat up and looked away. “Certainly not what I thought was going to happen when you asked me to go to the market with you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Is that why you invited me? So I could help you attack the Agni Kai? I promised your mother I’d keep you out of trouble. I thought… I thought we were friends.”

Kya sat up. “Dor, we are friends. I… I admit I heard rumors about Agni Kai in the area, but I really do like that market and I really did want you to see it. I asked you to come because I thought you’d like it too. Please, you have to believe me.”

“What about deciding to flood the place after you promised we’d just look around?”

“It was too good and opportunity…”

“No. You promised me!” The emotion welled in her throat as she voiced her frustration. She feared she would cry in front of Kya.  

“Are you going to tell mom?”

Dor sighed. “No.”

“Do… do you want to spank me?”

Dor looked at her, surprised. She couldn’t fathom spanking anyone, let alone her friend. It was unthinkable. But she remembered she’d asked Minwu to spank her, and she’d told Mrs. Chen she would submit to a spanking. But still, they were both adults, authority figures, Dor was just a girl, like Kya. It wouldn’t be appropriate. And yet, the idea made her skin tingle and her heart race and, after all, Kya deserved it.

“You do, don’t you?” Kya’s voice held a hint of accusation, a hint of playfulness. “You want to spank me.”

“No, no. No. That would be inappropriate. Besides, I went along with it.”

“But I pushed you to do it. Maybe it’s only right. Maybe you should spank my naughty little bottom.” Kya’s voice went high and playful at the end.

Dor frowned at her. “It’s not a game, Kya. We could have gotten hurt. How would I explain this to your parents if that had happened? I… I’ve never had a home like this and I nearly lost it, lost you, because you just had to poke at a bunch of firebending gangsters.”

Kya swallowed and looked down. “I… I’m sorry, Dorothy. I don’t want you to be mad at me. If… if you think I deserve a spanking… No, I think I deserve a spanking.” Kya stood and pulled her pants down to her knees, then pulled her shorts down as well. Dor stared. Kya had beautifully lithe legs and the tuft of curls growing just below her navel was at eye-level. Dor took a deep breath and the scent of Kya made her heady. She didn’t say anything and Kya lay over her lap, stretching out on the bed, her pert, firm bottom ready.

Dor put a hand on Kya’s back, but she hesitated. She was certain Kya had earned a spanking, she just wasn’t sure she should be the one to give it. It didn’t feel right. After all, she had abetted the mischief. If anything, she felt she deserved a spanking too.

“What are you waiting for?” Kya demanded, looking over her shoulder at Dor.

“You’re sure?” Dor asked.

Kya nodded firmly.

For so long, Dor had hated and feared spankings, but Minwu had shown her spankings could come from a place of love and protection. She only hoped she could do the same. Heart hammering, breath shaking, Dor raised her right hand. She slapped Kia’s bottom, square in the middle of her left cheek. It stung her hand and jolted her chest. Tears sprang to her eyes despite she was on the giving end. She spanked her again, her right cheek this time, and Kya whimpered. She spanked her again and again and again, sharp smacks that bounced her friend’s bottom alluringly, slowly painting it from brown to deep pink. She kept up a steady rhythm, pouring her frustration and disappointment with Kya into each spank. She took a deep breath and it was shaky. When she let it go, she could no longer hold back her tears and they slid down her cheeks even as she spanked, watching her friend squirm and yelp and moan from it.

When Kya’s whimpering cries were a steady stream and her bottom was a spanked shade of red, and just as hot, Dor stopped. Kya stayed as she was, stretched out on the bed, crying quietly. Dor rubbed the tears from her cheeks and sniffled what remained. Then she rubbed Kya’s bottom gently with one hand and her back with the other. Her fingers caught on the strap of Kya’s brassier and she ran her fingers along its edge.

Eventually, Kya pushed to her knees.

“Are you crying?” Kya asked as she wiped away her own tears.

Dor blushed. “A little.”

Kya laughed, a throaty chuckle, and kissed Dor’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“For spanking you?”

“For coming with me. For helping me even when you knew better. And yes, for spanking me yourself rather than telling mom. I’m not sure she could handle it if she had to spank me twice in a week.”

Dor smiled and turned to kiss Kya’s cheek in return, but Kya turned just a bit and the kiss touched the corner of Kya’s mouth. Dor blushed and pulled back.

“Sorry. I…”

“It’s fine.”

“It is?”

“Dor… I was wondering… could I maybe kiss you? For real this time?”

Dor’s breath fled and her thoughts scattered. All she could do was nod. Kya slid from the bed to kneel in front of Dor. She put one hand on Dor’s waist, and the other on her cheek and leaned in, eyes half-lidded. Their noses bumped and Dor tilted her head to one side and closed the gap.

Dor had read Jayne Eyre and Pride and Prejudice and she still didn’t know what a kiss was supposed to be like. She hoped she was doing it right. All she really knew was she felt tingly and faint and uncertain.

When Kya pulled back, she was smiling at Dor, eyes shining. Dor smiled back.

“Was that all right?” Dor asked.

“It was much more than all right. I wasn’t sure you liked me like that.”

Dor nodded, but swallowed hard. Back at St. Bridget’s there were rumors of girls who kissed, who liked each other more than was proper. It was well known that Sister Mary Margaret saw it a sin for girls to show too much affection for one another, that God required a woman fall in love with a man. She wondered if it was different here.

“Um… Dor? Are you going to let me go? Or… do you want me to kiss you again?”

Dor hadn’t realized she’d put her arms around Kya’s waist. She let go quickly and Kya stumbled back, laughing. Dor laughed too, a note of hysteria to it. With a sigh, she stood up and felt the exhaustion of the events wash over her. She yawned expansively, stretching her arms above her head.

“You know, mom and dad won’t be home for a few more hours. Maybe… do you want to take a nap?”

Dor nodded.

Kya stripped off her brassier with a sigh. Dor expected her to put on pajamas, or at least underwear, but she slid under the blankets nude and Dor’s heart raced with excitement, quivered with it. She undressed, folding her clothes neatly with shaking hands, and forewent her nightgown. Kya turned on her side as Dor got under the covers and Dor slid in beside her, the front of her hips firm to Kya’s still warm bottom. Kya wiggled, settling in, and sighed contentedly. Dor put her left arm around Kya’s waist, just under her breasts. She put her face at Kya’s neck and breathed deeply.

Dor didn’t know if she dozed, happily floating in a haze of warm fuzziness, feeling her body warm and her loins tingle, her nipples harden and her heart swell. She thought she might have.

Then she smelled smoke.

It wasn’t the good smell of cooking she’d grown used to in the Chen house, but smoke, like something burning that wasn’t supposed to be burning.

“What’s that?” Kya said dreamily.

Dor snapped out of bed as a horrid thought filled her. She went to the window, still open, and looked out over the backyard. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except that the smell of smoke was stronger. Behind her, Kya got out of bed with a rustle of fabric.

“Is someone there?”

Dor shook her head. “But something’s on fire.”

They got dressed in a hurry, Dor in her robe from Ivalice, Kya in a pale blue nightgown, and hurried downstairs. There they found the front door on fire. Kya shouted and reacted, pulling water from somewhere in the kitchen and dousing the door. The fire was mostly subdued, but smoke filled the room and they could hear laughing from outside.

Dor recognized a manic shriek in that laughter.

Her blood ran cold.

She sprinted through to the backyard and around front where a knot of men in suits with red ties and hats with red bands stood in the street, laughing. At their center stood Elmira Gulch in a suit, tie, and hat to match.

“Dorothy! There you are. I’ve been looking all over this city for you. And look at the new friends I’ve made.”

A great wave of water arced from the backyard and doused the front of the house, putting out any lingering flames. Kya hurried around to stand next to Dor, drawing the remaining water off the street.

Elmira stepped forward, grin widening. A red-bordered card flickered through Dor’s mind. She’d seen it before, on a rooftop in the futuristic New York City.

[Elmira’s Javelin]

“Catch!” Elmira screeched.

Her spellbook opened in her mind, but the tingle at her neck was subdued. It didn’t want to respond to her call. She’d exhausted her mana. Her mind raced as the world around her slowed. A spear of glowing red and yellow flames spun toward her. She pulled hard at her mana and shoved it at her spellbook. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t choose a spell, and when the javelin struck her chest, her body screamed, her mind shattered, and her world went dark.

Chapter Text

The world swam back slowly. Her hearing first.

“If you’ve killed her, your punishment will be slow.” The voice was deep and cultured, careful and clipped, that of a man who’d studied words for a long time.

“Oh, she’s fine. She healed herself the moment the javelin hit her.”

“Javelin? My standing orders are non-lethal. I need them alive. Especially this one.”

Elmira scoffed. “What’s so special about her? She’s an orphan from a backwater, nothing-plane that barely has any mana.”

Her feeling came next. Her whole body was alive with pain, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out, couldn’t react.

“Even if I explained it to you, you wouldn’t understand. All you understand is pain and fire.”

Elmira made a sound, somewhere between a sneer and a pout. “I thought you liked that about me.”

The voices faded away.

Her vision came next. She blinked when she realized she could see beige fabric paneling on the ceiling. One of the panels was of textured glass through which shone a soft white light, filling the room. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes to the hair just above her ears. Her peripheral vision eased into sight and she saw the back of a couch she must be laying on at her right and the top of a bookshelf on her left.

The pain eased, like draining from a bucket with only a pinprick in the bottom. And with it, coherent thought returned. She sat up gingerly, expecting every movement to hurt, but it didn’t. She took stock. Her robe had a large charred hole in it, exposing most of her midriff. The skin there was pink and shiny. She sat upon a comfortable, beige-upholstered couch in a small room made of bookshelves.

“Ah, you’re awake.” It was the careful, cultured voice she’d heard before.

Dor stood and spun about.

A man stood at the entrance to the room, clad in grey slacks and a beige button up shirt with the collar undone and sleeves rolled up. He had a well-groomed beard with a bit of white just below his lip, a pair of academic-looking spectacles, and long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. He held a small stack of clothes and smiled at her innocuously.

“Who are you? Where’s Elmira?”

“To answer the second first, Ms. Gulch is off on an assignment. I assure you, you have nothing to fear from her, or anyone else, here. As to the first, my name is Silas Quillon, and I’m the librarian.”

His voice put her at ease, but Dor kept her guard up. If he was Elmira’s master, she didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I see Elmira burned your clothing. I brought you some.” He came into the room and set the clothing on a small table by the couch. “The circulation desk is just through there and to your left,” he said, gesturing at the entrance. “That’s where I’ll be when you’re ready to talk.”

After he left, all Dor could hear was a faint hiss of air.

Dor went to the entrance to the little room. There was no physical door, just way though the bookshelves, either side of which was labeled with a series of numbers. She peeked around the way Mr. Quillon had gestured and found a long, curved hallway of bookshelves filled with books, tagged low on their spines, all neatly shelved. Every once in a while the shelves were broken with another doorway. Several doorways on, the hallway opened into a larger room she could barely make out around the curve of the hallway but most of which was hidden.

Dor turned back to the stack of clothes Mr. Quillon had brought and examined them. A beige button up shirt and matching pleated skirt; a pair of beige, ankle high stockings and slip on shoes; a beige brassier and matching high-cut drawers, much like Kya had worn, but with a stretchy waistband. All the clothes were sized for her. She wondered how Mr. Quillon knew what size clothes to give her. The thought made her skin crawl. She didn’t want to put them on, but even more she didn’t want to continue wearing the burned robe.

Peeking up and down the hallway again to make sure no one was coming, Dor pulled off the ruined robe, folded it neatly as she could, and pulled on the clothes she’d been provided. They were a perfect fit and comfortable. She picked up the robe and looked again down the curving hallway of bookshelves.

Dor considered fleeing the other way, but she had no idea where she was or how to get anywhere else and felt fairly certain if she tried to planeswalk, she’d end up somewhere else entirely new. Besides, this was an opportunity to find out why Elmira had pursued her. For all she didn’t trust him, Mr. Quillon was, so far, much more kind and reasonable than Elmira Gulch. Maybe she could learn something from him.

Steeling herself, Dor walked the way Mr. Quillon had indicated, passing more nooks with identical couches and end tables, until she came into a large, circular room. This room was filled with couches, end tables, desks, and chairs, all neatly arranged, spaciously organized. From the room ran twelve hallways like the one she’d emerged from, equidistant from each other. At the center of the room was a circular desk, hollow in the middle. Mr. Quillon sat at the inside of the desk, a thin tablet propped up in front of him. He looked up as she approached, and smiled benignly.

“Thank you for coming, Dorothy.” He stood up and put a black basket with a sort of lining she didn’t recognize on the desk. “You may dispose of that unfortunate garment here.”

Dor wasn’t inclined to keep the robe now it was ruined, but it had been given to her by Minwu, and she didn’t like the idea of giving it to Mr. Quillon. Even so, she swallowed her trepidation and threw it away. Mr. Quillon put the wastebasket back under the desk.

“Now. I’m sure you’ll have many questions for me.”

Dor nodded.

Mr. Quillon gestured behind her as he sat. Dor turned to look and found a chair at a nearby desk. She pulled it up to the circular desk and sat across from him. He steepeld his fingers and looked at her patiently.

Dor cleared her throat. “Why did you send Elmira after me?”

Mr. Quillon frowned, and Dor kept herself from shrinking back though her heart raced.

“Ms. Gulch is new to my organization. I thought I could teach her to control her impulses. I fear I was incorrect. I am sorry for what she did to you. But, to answer your question, I send my agents through the Multiverse to find young people whose planeswalker spark is about to ignite. Sometimes my calculations are off and their sparks do not ignite and my agents come back alone. But usually I am correct, the target does spark, and when they end up someplace wildly new and different, they are grateful when my agents find them and explain to them the nature of planeswalking and of the Multiverse.”

“You sent Elmira to help me?”

“I’m afraid the choice of Ms. Gulch was an error on my part. I assure you, it will not happen again.”

Dor nodded. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but talking with Mr. Quillon put her at ease. “I have another question.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“How do you know my name? How did you find me?”

Mr. Quillon smiled, pride evident. He picked up the tablet propped on his desk, tapped at it, then brushed his finger across it with a dramatic flair. Colored lights sprang from the tablet to the air and Dor reacted by springing to her feet and taking a defensive stance. She needn’t have worried. The light formed itself into a three-dimensional map.

“I have created a spell that trawls the Multiverse and a second spell that recognizes a lifeform with the spark for planeswalking and a third spell that calculates how likely that person is to have their spark ignite. This is the result.”

Dor stared at the slowly rotating map of lights. Most of them were a pale, off white, almost pink, but some pulsed with one color or another. None of it meant anything to her.

“Here, allow me to demonstrate.” Mr. Quillon tapped at his tablet and the map shifted, then narrowed upon a single point of light, pulsing yellow, that grew bigger as though rushing toward them. When the sphere of light would have grown too large for the space, it turned translucent, like looking through a window. The image showed them a top-down view of a neighborhood of houses.

Dor felt a faint sense of vertigo.

“Yes, here we are, a version of your world, Earth. There are more versions of Earth than any other plane of existence in all the Multiverse. Most of them have some form of supernatural activity: magic, psionics, metahumans or the like. This one is known for its monsters.”

The window lowered slowly as Mr. Quillon spoke, focusing on a particular house and its backyard. Soon Dor saw a girl cavorting in the grass, playing some game by herself. Dor wondered if Mr. Quillon had observed her like this. She shivered.

“Even now, the various world governments of this Earth are developing the robots they’ll need to battle the monsters. In the meantime my spells have found Marnie Kim, an eleven-year-old girl. She has the spark and lives in a fairly dangerous world.”

“Wait,” said Dor. “This is a version of Earth? Do I exist on this Earth? Do my parents?”

“Ah. Clever. Very good. Unfortunately, no. This Earth is in the year twenty thirty-five. It could be there was a version of you and your parents and that there are birth records. Some Earths are parallel as opposed to alternate. My guess, though, is there isn’t. We can look later if you’d like.”

Dor considered. Now she had the potential opportunity, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. What if her parents turned out to be awful people?

“Maybe later.” She turned back to the window.

“Very well.” Mr. Quillon returned to his explanation. “The closer a person with the potential is to becoming a planeswalker, the further along the spectrum the lights glow: red at unlikely, purple at highly likely. You were blue leaning to purple when I sent Elmira.” Mr. Quillon tapped at his tablet and the vision faded.

Dor turned back to Mr. Quillon. “I have one more question. Now I’m here, what do you intend to do with me?”

Mr. Quillon smiled his bland smile. “Well, Dorothy, I suppose that is up to you. Some of the young planeswalkers I assist choose to work with me on some of my acquisition projects.”

“Acquisitions?”

“Items. Come. I will show you.” He stood and walked to a section of counter that he lifted on cleverly hidden hinges, allowing her to enter the circle. At the center of the circle was a railing and a set of stairs spiraling down. 

Mr. Quillon gestured for her to go first and though it made her shiver to have him at her back, she began down the stairs. She found herself in a large, circular room to match the one above. Instead of couches and desks, there were display cases. She put her hands behind her back carefully, remembering Twilight Sparkle’s warning about magical items, and approached one of the display cases.

The case had a thick, wooden base smoothly polished and finely detailed in whorls and patterns. It was topped with a glass cover several inches tall and held together with metal bindings at the corners. Within the case were six brightly colored boxes: from left to right they were blue, pink, red, green, yellow, and black. Upon a velvet cushion within each was a golden coin. Embossed upon each coin was the bust of an animal. Two of them she recognized, the elephant and the great cat. The rest were strange beasts of mythology she’d not read.

“The six power coins,” said Mr. Quillon, his voice taking on a professorial tone. “Supposedly destroyed by Rito Revolto in Angel Grove in nineteen ninty-six. The thing about power coins, though, is, given time, they will rebuild themselves. At least, according to some theories.”

Dor turned. Mr. Quillon was closer than she’d thought and she took a few steps to the side.

“It seems the theories are correct,” said Dor

Mr. Quillon smiled and nodded. “Sometimes.” He gestured to his left, at another display case. “You enjoy reading. I’m sure you’ve heard of Excalibur.”

Dor’s eyebrows shot up. “The sword of King Arthur?”

“Many think the sword in the stone was Excalibur.”

“But that’s the one that proved he was king,” Dor said. “It was a different sword.” She hurried to the display case he’d indicated. Under the glass, upon a bed of samite, lay a long-handled great sword. It was smooth and polished, gleaming in the light of the room. 

“Precisely, very good. Though, it should be noted, some versions of the story conflate the two.”

“How did you get it?” Dor asked. “You said there are multiple versions of Earth. Does King Arthur exist on one of them? Are there multiple versions of King Arthur?”

Mr. Quillon nodded. “Yes and yes. Very good, Ms. Dorothy. I knew you’d impress me.”

Dor blushed, pleased despite herself.

“The Multiverse contains every universe. Sometimes that includes multiple Multiverses. Sub-Multiverses if you like. Some versions of Earth are parallel. That is, they contain largely the same history and the same people. Some versions are alternate, a major event will have come out differently like Napoleon uniting all of Eurasia, or the Nazis winning World War II, or the moon having never been destroyed.”

Dor bit her tongue on her questions.

“So some versions, most in fact, have some version of King Arthur. In most versions, Excalibur is returned to the Lady of the Lake upon King Arthur’s death. In one of those versions, I convinced that rueful nymph to loan me Excalibur.”

“And she let you?”

“I can be extraordinarily convincing.” Mr. Quillon gestured at another display case. It was empty. “This is the one I’d meant for Ravenclaw’s Diadem.”

Dor looked at him, eyes going wide. “Is it silver with a big blue stone?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’ve seen it,” said Dor. “It was in the Everfree Forest, on Equestria.”

“I thought as much.”

“How did you know?”

“As I said, your light was blue to purple, which meant I was keeping an eye on you. At the same time, I was researching one of my acquisitions, which is vastly different from how I research potential planeswalkers. For that, I use the Infinite Library. Every story ever written, every story that will be written, every version of every story, can be found, somewhere, in the Infinite Library.

“To give you an example: Mr. Harry Potter. Harry Potter was born on a version of Earth on July 31^st, 1980. Soon thereafter he was marked for death by the dark wizard Voldemort. But, when Voldemort tried to kill him, the spell backfired, inadvertently turning baby Potter into a horcrux. A horcrux is much like a lich’s phylactery, it holds a piece of a being’s soul and so long as that piece of soul is alive, so is the being.”

“That sounds dreadful,” said Dor.

“Oh, it is. I won’t tell you how it ends in case you decide you want to read it. Pertinent to this discussion is the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders of Hogwarts School of Wizardry. Voldemort stole the artifact from Hogwarts and turned it into a horcrux. Harry Potter, in his quest to defeat Voldemort, had to find and destroy all the horcruxes. But the diadem was not created to be a horcrux; it had a different intended purpose, granting its wearer enhanced wisdom. As an academic, I, of course, am interested in such an item.

“But I couldn’t simply send one of my agents to Hogwarts to take it before Voldemort could turn it into a horcrux. Can you think of why?”

Dor considered. “Well… You learned about the diadem in a book about Mr. Potter. Right?”

Mr. Quillon nodded.

“And in the book, the diadem played an important part. But if you take the diadem before it can become part of the story…” Dor hesitated, uncertain.

“Go on.”

“If you take it before it becomes part of the story, maybe it doesn’t end up in the story at all and you never read about it. But if you never read about it then you can’t acquire it. But if you don’t acquire it, then it remains in the story. So…”

Mr. Quillon clapped his hands together happily. “Thus, a paradox. The Infinite Library detests a paradox. One of the fundamental rules of utilizing it is not to create paradox, not to disrupt causality. Fortunately, there are parallel universes.

“The Harry Potter series was written by the detestable J.K. Rowling, and those seven books are considered the Prime Universe of the Wizarding World. The films based on the books are considered Prime Beta. After that are the secondary universes, the video games and stage plays and whatnot. Tertiary universes are those based upon fan works. The closer a fan work is to the Prime Canon, the more stable it is. My aim is to find a universe that’s stable, but not too stable. The Infinite Library is much more forgiving of potential paradox in fan fiction.

“It took some doing, but I found a tertiary universe focused on Rowena Ravenclaw, hundreds of years before Harry Potter was to be born, in which her diadem would never be found by Voldemort because the Grey Lady never told him about it. And so, after Ravenclaw’s daughter stole and hid the diadem in a hollow tree in an Albanian forest, it’s free to be acquired. Thank Dominia for fan fiction.”

“So, why didn’t you?” 

“That’s where you come in, Ms. Dorothy. I was keeping an eye on you at the same time I was finding this particular version of that Albanian forest. Then your spark ignited and there was a…” he shrugged with one hand, “A glitch, I suppose. And that portion of the Albanian forest planeshifted into the Everfree Forest for you and Twilight Sparkle to find. I must admit, I was very put out with you, young lady.” His tone grew stern as he explained.

Dor felt her backside tingle apprehensively.

Mr. Quillon sighed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to spank you for an accident that wasn’t your fault. I do, however, to answer your question, have a request.”

Dor grit her teeth and nodded. She didn’t want to help Mr. Quillon collect magical artifacts, but here, in his library, she didn’t feel she was in a position to defy him. Her skin tingled nervously.

“Research Ravenclaw’s diadem. Not much is said of it in the books, only what’s necessary to the plot. But if you can go to the source and gather as much research about the item as you can, then perhaps I can find another tertiary universe to exploit.”

“The source?”

“The Prime Universe of the Wizarding World,” Mr. Quillon expounded.

“What about the Infinite Library and paradoxes?”

Mr. Quillon waved his hand dismissively. “You won’t need to worry about that. I’ll send you to after the Wizarding War. It’s a quiet few years by all accounts. There’ll be no causality to disrupt. There will, however, be some preparation needed…” He trailed off as his thoughts caught up to him.

Dor waited patiently, but his gaze was fixed somewhere far off.

“Mr. Quillon? Should I… um…”

He frowned at her before putting on his bland smile. “You’ll need a place to stay while I write a suitable letter. Come on, up you get,” he gestured at the staircase.

Dor went up the spiral stairs deciding as she went that she would not point out she hadn’t agreed to do as he asked. She felt vulnerable here, in his library, in the clothes he had given her. She didn’t want to do anything to incite his ire. He hadn’t done anything to suggest he might hurt her, but there was that overheard conversation as she’d woken on the couch. She felt he was putting on an act for her.

Mr. Quillon led her down one of the twelve curved hallways off the large circular room, indistinguishable from any of the others as far as she could tell, until they came to a sharp left turn and up another set of stairs.

At the top of the stairs was a common room with a hall leading off from the left. There were three couches, the same she’d seen in every reading nook, and a low, flat table. The walls were all a pale brown, the ceilings the same beige with textured glass panels for light. It was neat and tidy, as though no one had ever used it.

A girl, wearing the same button up shirt as Dor, came into the room from the hall. She froze when she saw them. Her expression, while not exactly fearful, was certainly cautious.

“Ah, Ms. Hook. This is Dorothy. She’s our newest member. If I’m not mistaken, room 107 is empty yes?”

Ms. Hook was a tall girl with broad shoulders. She had plain brown hair pulled back in a simple tail and a crooked nose. Though her shirt was the same as Dor’s, she wore a pair of loose pants tied close at the ankles. They were dark grey and had likely once been black. She wasn’t wearing socks or shoes.

She nodded once. “Aye, sir.”

“Ms. Dorothy will be taking it. Show her the way, will you?”

Ms. Hook nodded again. “Aye sir.”

“Off you get then, Dorothy. I will send for you when I’m ready.”

Mr. Quillon smacked her bottom before turning down the stairs. Dor grunted in quiet surprise. It had been a mild spank, as far as spanks went, yet it made her uneasy, ill almost. If he had spied on her as he had spied on Marnie Kim, perhaps he had seen her spanked at the orphanage.

Ms. Hook smirked. “I’m Jill. So you’re the new one, huh?”

Dor nodded.

“The others are all out and about, so introductions will have to be later. Come on then.”

She led Dor down the one hallway from the common room. The walls here were also plain and bare, painted the same pale brown. There were doors on either side marked sequentially, odds on the left starting with 101, evens on the right, starting with 102. It wasn’t had to find 107.

Jill gestured. “The doors don’t lock. Q doesn’t like the idea that we might try to lock him out and he has a tendency to come in unannounced. So… there’s that I guess.” She slapped Dor’s shoulder entirely too hard. “Good luck, new girl.” Jill ambled back down the hall.

Dor entered 107 and closed the door behind her. She sat in the center of the room, closed her eyes, and pictured the room in her mind. The spellbook appeared in her lap, but she didn’t open it. The Multiverse warmed in her chest, but she didn’t reach for it. She knew Mr. Quillon could find her wherever she might flee.

And that bothered her. He didn’t seem dangerous, and he’d apologized for Elmira, but Dor couldn’t bring herself to trust him. Something about him felt off. Perhaps it was his smile. Perhaps it was the way he collected items. Perhaps it was the way he collected people. Perhaps it was the way he’d smacked her bottom. It had only stung, but it had an air of familiarity, the way one might pat a dog, or perhaps remind an errant child to behave.

Certainly she didn’t trust him the way she’d trusted others on her unexpected journey. Thinking of her friends made her chest pang. Though she’d only barely met her, Dor missed Twilight Sparkle, her kind smile and gentle humor. She missed Jubilee and her pugnacious confidence. She missed Minwu, her warm smiles and stern looks. She missed Li and his quiet companionship. And, perhaps most especially, she missed the Chens, being part of that family, even though it’d only been six days. She missed Kya, having the strength and warmth of her friend beside her.

Only hours ago at most, Dor had spanked her friend, had lain with her loins next to Kya’s hot bottom, had held her and breathed in her scent. She had questioned everything she’d learned from the sisters about what was appropriate between girls.

And now she was gone. They were all gone.

Finally, with nothing to do and no one to talk to, Dor slipped off her shoes, pulled back the covers, and lay on the bed. Mindful of Ms. Hook’s warning, she didn’t undress in case Mr. Quillon decided to call upon her. The soft, white light of the room was pervasive, even after she’d closed her eyes, so Dor put her arm over them to block it out.

When the door slammed open, Dor sprang to her feet, falling into a defensive stance, spellbook open in her mind, yellow, pink, and blue sparks streaking at the interloper

“Fuck!” Elmira staggered back and crashed into the wall opposite the door. Dor stood, ready to hit her again, but Elmira held her hands up, looking this way and that through wide, unseeing eyes. “Stop” she shouted. “I’m here to fetch you for Quillon.”

Dor stopped short. What had he been thinking sending Elmira for her? Or maybe Elmira was lying. That seemed likely. Raucous laughter from down the hallway stayed her hand. Elmira slid down the wall to sit, hands still outstretched, eyes still wide and unseeing.

Jill Hook stuck her hands around the doorframe. “Don’t shoot. We come in peace.”

“What’s going on?” said Dor.

“Q is ready for you. He sent us to come get you.”

“Yeah,” said Elmira, louder than necessary, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. “Yeah, what she said.”

Jill grabbed Elmira by a hand. Elmira squeaked as she was pulled to her feet, then stumbled until she could lean into the wall. It was strange seeing Elmira so vulnerable. Dor knew she shouldn’t, but she felt mild joy in it.

“All right then,” said Dor.

Elmira took a deep breath, shook her head again, then blinked at Dor blearily. “What the fuck was that?”

“You burst into my room unannounced. What did you expect?”

“She has a point,” said Jill.

Elmira growled. “I won’t forget this, Dorothy.”

Dor clung desperately to any bit of confidence she could muster. She tried not to let fear show.

“Let’s go, ladies,” said Jill. “You lead the way, Elmira. I’ll stay between you and your new best friend.”

Dor followed Jill down the hall and through the common room to the stairs. It was a short walk down the curved hallway to the large, circular room where Mr. Quillon still sat behind his circular desk.

“Ah, excellent. Dorothy, Elmira, I’m sending you to Hogwarts School of Wizardry, circa twenty oh-one.” He held a folded piece of paper out to each of them.

“You’re sending us both?” said Dor.

“It’s always good to have a backup plan,” said Mr. Quillon. “Now, when you arrive at the school, you must immediately find the library and hand this letter to Madam Irma Pince. She will help you in your research of Ravenclaw’s Diadem. Do you understand?” He held a folded envelope of beige paper out to both of them.

Elmira sighed. “I hate research projects.”

“I’m well aware,” said Mr. Quillon. “Your job will be to protect Dorothy.”

“Oh, so I’m protecting her now?” said Elmira.

“What do I need protecting from?” Dor asked. She took the letter

Mr. Quillon shrugged. “Hard to say. Hogwarts is secure, but not always safe.”

Dor looked at Elmira who sneered at her.

“I’ve already calibrated the teleporter.” Mr. Quillion held a blue box with a silver cover out to Elmira who snatched it up as though worried Dor might try to take it. Elmira turned away from the group and took a few steps away before pressing the button.

A white line of light cut the space before them and rotated slowly to form a door of light. Elmira gestured.

“After you, Dorothy.”

Dor took a breath, grit her teeth, and plunged through.

Chapter Text

The portal didn’t feel the way planeswalking did. Her teeth were on edge and her skin itched. There was none of the warmth that filled her chest when she planeswalked.

Dor staggered into the great hall of Hogwarts School of Wizardry. The room was immense. Four long tables stood lengthwise down the room. At the far end, upon a raised dais, was another long table oriented widthwise, the head table. Above her, floated thick, white candles, enough to light the room, and above that the great arched ceiling faded into the pale blue of a morning sky. The room was filled, each long table packed with students in black robes over school uniforms. The head table hosted an eclectic group of men and women in eclectic robes.

Only the few students near her in the center of the hall noticed her. They started, agog. Then a woman at the head table, tall and thin and severe, wearing a pair of square spectacles, stood, and the hall quieted. The woman focused her gaze on Dor and the rest of the great hall did the same.

“How did you gain entrance to this castle?” the thin woman demanded. She had a distinctly British accent and a firm tone to rival Sister Mary Margaret. Her voice filled the room and any hint that anyone might not be paying attention evaporated.

“I… I’m sorry to intrude. I didn’t mean to. I’m not from here, but I don’t mean any harm.” Dor clutched her letter nervously. She hesitated to bring it up. She didn’t know what it said and still didn’t trust Mr. Quillon. The woman fixed her with an intense gaze. The silence of the dining hall hung on that gaze. Dor felt her throat go dry.

“What is your name?”

“Dor… er… Dorothy. Alice Wendy. Dor’s cheeks reddened as she stumbled over her own name.

The woman turned her head slightly while keeping her gaze on Dor. “Horace, if you would please, fetch the Sorting Hat.”

“Of course, headmistresss,” said a large man with a big, bushy moustache. He got up from the table and hurried through a side door near the staff table.

Dor felt her blood run cold. What was the Sorting Hat? Why would it be fetched in this situation? Was she about to be questioned in front of the whole of this school? Was to be punished for intruding?

“If you truly mean us no harm, the Sorting Hat will know,” said the woman. “Come sit here, please.” Though the headmistress had said please, it was not a request. She withdrew a wand from her pocket and flicked it precisely. A stool popped from thin air and clattered to the floor.

Everyone in the Hogwarts dining hall stared at Dor as she walked down the center aisle of the great hall, her slippered feet silent on the stone floor. She couldn’t make out details of the people around her, it was all a blur. She thought she’d pass out for certain. She swallowed hard and stepped up to the head table and sat upon the stool, staring out at the students without really seeing them.

The crowd of students murmured, like wind over the plain. Dor took a slow, deep breath, and felt her shoulders tingle.

It wasn’t long before the man with the bushy moustache returned, carrying a dusty, battered old hat. He approached Dor and the headmistress. The old woman gave him a nod, and the Sorting Hat was set upon her head, falling over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.

A flurry of images flashed through her mind: her earliest days at the orphanage, learning to read, being scolded for sharing her outlandish imagination, her many, many spankings.

“Hmm… not particularly courageous are you?”

Dor started at the voice of the Sorting Hat in her ear. She griped the stool beneath her. A new set of images flashed before her, the images of her journey thus far, her adventure with Twilight Sparkle, running through alleyways with Jubilee, working to heal the wounded with Minwu, living with the Chens.

“Not very ambitious either. You’re smart enough, good imagination, but… but you’ve a loyal heart, and it will serve you well, Dorothy Alice Wendy.”

Aloud, to the gathered, the Sorting Hat shouted “Hufflepuff!” “Let them figure that one out,” it muttered smugly just before it was whipped off her head. The assembled students whispered; the susurrus filled the dining hall.

Dor looked up, fearing the Headmistress of Hogwarts would again fix her with a fearsome gaze. Instead, the severe woman’s glare was for the Sorting Hat.

“I don’t… I’m not…”

“Hush. We’ll sort that out later,” the woman said quietly. Then she turned to the head table. “Pomona, she’s been claimed for Hufflepuff. This is irregular, but not without precedence. It’s your house and your decision.”

A short, round woman with curly grey hair stood and looked Dor up and down before giving a small smile. “Helga Hufflepuff believed in hospitality for those in need, strangers and friends alike. She welcomed all comers. I’d be remiss if I turned this girl away, especially when the Sorting Hat has made it clear there’s a place for her here.”

And that settled it.

The short round woman came around the head table and held a hand out to Dor. Dor took it and let the woman lead her to one of the long tables. “I am Professor Pamona Sprout, head of House Hufflepuff and Herbology teacher here at Hogwarts. I get the impression a lot of that won’t mean anything to you?”

Dor swallowed hard and shook her head.

“Well, don’t worry, dear. We’ll get you sorted after breakfast. You look about twelve years old, is that right?”

“Um… actually…”

Professor Sprout turned her attention to the students at a nearby table. “Isabel, would you take Dorothy to the second years’ room in Hufflepuff basement after breakfast? The house elves will already be setting up her bed and uniforms. Then take her to the library please.” She looked at Dor. “I’ll meet with you there, dear.”  

“Of course, Professor Sprout.”

A dark-skinned girl whose hair was so crinkly it poofed from her head, nodded at Professor Sprout then moved aside to make room for her. Dor sat, as nervous about joining a bunch of kids she’d never met a she’d been about facing down a gang of firebenders.

“I’m Isabel Legrande,” said the girl. This is Aelf Erin and Sandra Morales.” Isabel held her hand out and Dor took it firmly.

Aelf Erin was a blonde with bright blue eyes and a scattering of freckles to match Dor’s. Sandra Morales was a brunette girl with large brown eyes and dimples. Both shook Dor’s hand heartily.

“We’re the second year girls of Hufflepuff. Didn’t expect to gain a fourth,” Sandra said.

“Are you friendly?” Aelf asked, her voice high and lilting. “I was so glad when Isabel and Sandy turned out to be so nice.”

Dor didn’t know how to respond, but Isabel intervened. “I’m sure she’s friendly. The Sorting Hat wouldn’t have put her in Hufflepuff if she wasn’t friendly.”

“Where do you come from?” Sandra asked, wide eyes genuinely curious. “You sound American. I’ve never heard of an American attending Hogwarts before.”

“Are you Muggle born?” asked someone else at the table.

“Did you get a letter?”

“Can you already do magic?”

More and more of the students at the Hufflepuff table leaned in, asking questions and waiting for answers.

Isabel stood up, standing on the bench. “All right, that’s enough. She hasn’t even had breakfast and you know how seriously we Hufflpuffs take our breakfast. Leave her alone. There’ll be plenty of time to pester Dorothy with questions at dinner.” She winked down at Dor who smiled, grateful. And to Dor’s surprise the other Hufflepuff students left her be.

Isabel plopped back on her seat. “You hungry, Dorothy?”

Dor nodded and looked at the food presented on the table. There were pitchers of orange juice and chilled milk, pots of tea and coffee. There were steaming rolls and still-sizzling bacon and piles of scrambled eggs. There were pots of butter and jam and jelly.

“You can call me Dor, if you like.” Dor said as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a helping of bacon and eggs. Back at St. Bridget’s bacon was a precious commodity hoarded by the sisters. The food was nothing like what she’d had at the Chens, but the wealth of it, and the easy comradery of the Hufflepuff table, made her teary-eyed. She took a deep breath over her coffee before having a sip. It was thick and rich and sent a relaxing tingle down her spine.

Dor examined the students around her as the babble of conversation washed over her and the food filled her. There were all kinds of people here, of all shapes and colors, all talking and eating and laughing together. The orphans and sisters at St. Bridget’s had all been of fair European stock. Dor hadn’t thought about how she must have stood out with the Chens or even in the military camp in Ivalice. Here she only stood out thanks to her beige clothes among the black robes, a dusty dove among corbies.

The Hufflepuffs wore charcoal grey vests with black and yellow trim over white shirts and black and yellow ties all under a black robe with yellow lining and the Hufflepuff crest, a badger, on the left breast.

After breakfast, Isabel took her hand and led her from the great hall, Aelf and Sandra following close behind like an honor guard. They passed through the entry hall and down a set of twisting hallways, along which were framed paintings and, to Dor’s amazement, the beings depicted were moving about. Dor would have stayed to gawk, but Isabel led her to a set of stairs leading down two flights to a basement, fronted by a round door with a central doorknob. The common room put her in mind of the coziest home she’d ever read of. There were large, cushiony chairs and couches, an eclectic array of tables and desks, bookshelves and hanging plants, thick rugs and tapestries. One corner was home to a set of bookshelves overflowing with books.

Down a wood-paneled hallway lit with burnished copper lanterns, Isabel pushed open a door with a carved wooden plaque reading “Second-Years”. Inside was a cozy room with two four-poster beds on the left and two on the right, each accompanied by their own freestanding wardrobes. At the foot of the room was a large fireplace with a polished, carved wooden mantel piece. A round table stood in the center of the room holding a pot with a nice smelling flowery plant at its center.

“There’s already a fourth bed,” Aelf said with quiet delight.

“House elves are extraordinarily good at their jobs,” said Sandra.

“What are house elves?” Dor asked.

All three girls gave her a funny look.

“You muggle born?” Sandra asked.

“It’s okay if you are,” said Aelf.

“Uh…” Dor shrugged. “I’m an orphan.”

“There will be time for explanations later,” said Isabel. “Let’s get you to the library so we can get to class. Change into your uniform so we can get going.”

Dor opened the wardrobe and found it filled with Hogwarts school uniforms in her size, complete with black and yellow ties and scarves and socks and brassieres and elastic-waisted drawers: black with yellow trim and yellow with black. There was even a pale yellow nightie.

Dor changed quickly. She wasn’t terribly comfortable taking off her underwear in front of a trio of girls she’d never met, but neither did she want to keep wearing those given to her by Mr. Quillon. She dressed in the school uniform and felt more at ease, but when she got to the tie, she was stymied.

“Here,” said Isabel. She took the tie, looped it over Dor’s head and tied it for her. “Do you prefer it loose or tight?”

“Loose, please.”

When she pulled on the black robe with the Hufflepuff crest, the girls led her out of the basement and to a massive stairwell packed with moving paintings.

“You’ll have to watch out for the stairs,” said Isabel. “They change without warning.”

“I’m already lost,” said Dor. “How will I ever find my way around?”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Sandra.

They got her to the library where Professor Sprout was already waiting for her.

“Good luck,” said Sandra.

“You’ll be fine,” Aelf said.

“Professor Sprout is one of the nicest professors here,” Isabel said. “But Madam Pince can be a bit…”

“Mean?” said Aelf.

“Bitchy,” said Sandra.

“Intense,” said Isabel, shooting Sandra a look. Sandra blushed.

The girls left and Dor went to where Professor Sprout stood talking with a tall, thin woman with a large, hooked nose and papery skin.

Dor only barely noticed. She was struck by the library.

The library at St. Bridget’s had been a single room with a desk, chair, and two bookshelves. There had been fifty-three books last time she’d counted. This library was immense. It stretched as far as she could see, almost as though the twists and turns of the shelving was larger than could reasonably be held by a room in the castle. Compared to the Infinite Library, the library at Hogwarts, while neat and orderly, was much more homey. The Infinite Library had seemed sterile and bland and lifeless. This library felt lived in and used, if meticulous. She felt at ease here, rather than on edge.

“Here she is. Dorothy, this is Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian.”

Dor brought her attention to the two women.

Madam Pince fixed Dor with a judging look.

“Let’s find a place to sit and you can tell us what brings you to Hogwarts.”

“My office?” Madam Pince suggested, her voice thin but hard. Madam Pince led them to a small room off the entry of the library. It was a square room with a half wall on one side so as to allow her to see into the library. Her desk stood at the door, making an L with the half wall and was as meticulous as the rest of the library. Every bit of wall space was covered in bookshelves and stuffed with books, except for one which held neatly ordered items: pots of glue and ink, brushes and quills, brightly colored ribbons and other items she was unfamiliar with.

Madam Pince sat in her desk chair while offering a pair of high-backed well-cushioned chairs Dor would have loved to curl up in to read late into a night. As she sat, Dor could not help but notice, leaning in a corner behind Madam Pince’s desk, was a long-handled, wooden paddle. The sight of it made her chest clench and she had to force herself to take a deep breath.

“All right now, dear,” said Professor Sprout. “If you would please, tell us who you are, where you’re from, and why you’re here.”

Dor considered. She’d been sent here to research Ravenclaw’s Diadem so Mr. Quillon could steal it from a parallel plane of existence. It seemed a poor way to make her introduction. Instead she decided to start at the beginning. She told them briefly of the orphanage, of Elmira Gulch, and of falling off the roof. She told them of Equestria and described the diadem.

Madam Pince scoffed. “That’s impossible.”

“Which part?” said Professor Sprout. “The part about traveling through planes of existence, or part about the talking purple unicorn?”

“The part about the diadem, Pomona,” said Madam Pince, unappreciative of the other woman’s light tone. “We’re now all well aware what happened to that particular item.”

“Yes,” said Dor, earning a stern look from Madam Pince and a small smile from Professor Sprout. “I’m getting to that.” She told them of New York City, Jubilee, and Elmira’s pursuit. She told them of Ivalice and the War of the Lions. She told them of Republic City and the Agni Kai and the Chen family. Finally she told them of the Infinite Library, parallel planes of existence, and Mr. Quillon’s request. She pulled the letter, now well crinkled, from the inside pocket of her new Hogwarts robes and handed it to Madam Pince.

“I don’t know what it says. He said it was for you, that you would understand. But, I’m not interested in helping Mr. Quillon getting his hands on any version of the diadem. I don’t know what he’d do with it. Perhaps he’s just a collector, but…” she shuddered.

Professor Sprout cleared her throat. “In my experience, dear, it’s best to trust your instincts about some people. You may not always know why you have misgivings, and you should always allow them to prove you wrong if they can, but oftentimes those initial feelings are spot on.”

Madam Pince took the letter from Dor and placed it on her desk. She opened a desk drawer, removed a thin, straight wand, and a pair of smoky-lensed spectacles with golden rims. She put the glasses on and tapped the paper with her wand. The folded paper smoked faintly and crackled with electricity. Madam Pince tapped the paper again, hurriedly, and it stopped. She looked over her glasses at Professor Sprout.

“Pomona, this letter has been enchanted with a jinx. Shall I destroy it or read it?”

“Did this Mr. Quillon seem a persistent man to you?” Professor Sprout asked Dor.

“He sent Elmira to chase after me on three different planes of existence. Seems persistent to me.”

Professor Sprout nodded. “If you’re willing, Irma, I’d like to be able to tell the headmistress what’s going on.”

Holding the paper so neither Dor nor Professor Sprout could see the writing, Madam Pince unfolded it, skimmed it, and folded it again. She then withdrew a wooden box from her desk, put the paper inside, closed the lid and tapped it with her wand. The seam flashed white. Madam Pince took off the spectacles.

“The letter is simple enough. It is addressed to me by name. Mr. Silas Quilon requests I assist you in a research project, assuming I will help as we’re both librarians. The jinx is coercive. It’s meant to compel any who reads it to do as it says.”

“I didn’t know,” said Dor. “Honestly.”

Madam Pince looked at Professor Sprout skeptically.

“The Sorting Hat would not have put her in Hufflepuff if she weren’t honest.”

“A fair point,” said Madam Pince. “So, what then, shall we do with her?”

Professor Sprout looked at Dor. “Your name is not in the book, which means you’re not technically a Hogwarts student. But the Sorting Hat claimed you for Hufflepuff which mean you are, technically, a student. It is rare, but not unprecedented. And precedent dictates an independent study, which is why I asked you to meet here in the library.”

Dor had never thought she’d go to school, and the idea appealed to her. Especially a magical school where the paintings and staircases moved, and the meals were feasts, and the other girls were kind. Going to school in a magical castle was a dream come true.

“I’d be thrilled to. Ecstatic. Overjoyed.” said Dor.

“And what would you study?” asked Madam Pince. “I’ll not have you wandering aimlessly about my library.”

Dor considered. The opportunity to study whatever she wanted was daunting. She considered what she wanted most in the Multiverse: to see her friends, Twilight Sparkle and Jubilee, again, to tell them she’d not abandoned them. To see Kya again. To ask if, perhaps, she could have another kiss.

“I’m not very good at planeswalking,” Dor said. “If it would be all right, I’d like very much to study that: the nature of the Multiverse and how one might travel through it with purpose.”

Madam Pince pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well now. That sounds interesting indeed. Very well, I accept your premise for independent study and will guide you in your research. As proof of your study, you’ll need to write a term paper.”

“What’s a term paper?”

“An essay explaining what you’ve learned and what conclusions, if any, you’ve come to, due at the end of the term. I can teach you how to write it.”

Dor smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, Ms… I’m sorry, I don’t believe I’ve heard your last name.”

Dor blushed and looked away. “I’m an orphan. I don’t have a last name.” She cleared her throat, embarrassed.

“There’s no reason to be ashamed, young lady,” said Madam Pince, her stern voice taking an edge of softness. “As a matter of fact, in this regard, I consider you most fortunate.”

“To not have a last name?” said Dor.

“Indeed. It means you have the opportunity to choose whatever last name you feel suits you. Few have such an opportunity.”

Dor’s eyes widened. Madam Pince was right. There was nothing and no one preventing her from choosing a last name. It was worth considering.

There were study rooms scattered throughout the library. Madam Pince took her to one at what seemed to be the very back of the library.

“I have found this one to have the least amount of distractions,” Madam Pince said, opening the door.

With a flick of her wrist, Madam Pince lit the lanterns on the wall. The room was paneled in dark wood. The room was still dim, but it was close and inviting. In the center of the room was a square table and a pair of simple chairs. In one corner was a high-backed, cushioned chair suitable for curling up in and reading for hours at a time. Against one wall was an empty book case. It reminded her strongly of the room she and Twilight had used, of the room in her mind.

Madam Pince looked at her. “Unless you prefer something else?

“No. No, it’s perfect.”

“Have you any supplies?” Madam Pince asked.

“None.”

“Well then, we’ll need to fetch some.”

After several trips back and forth, the table was stacked with sheets of paper, pots of ink, and quills. Dor had never written with a quill before. At the orphanage they used charcoal pencils when they were afforded writing utensils at all.

“What about a wand?” asked Madam Pince. “I should have thought to ask earlier.”

Dor shook her head. “Do I need one for research?”

“Perhaps. Is wandless magic common where you come from?”

“Until recently I’d have said magic doesn’t exist at all where I come from. But the places I’ve been, no one used a wand. Minwu used a staff once for a particularly powerful and important spell.”

“It would be interesting to see if you can use a wand,” said Madam Pince. “Perhaps I’ll arrange it.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of students moving through the halls.

“I suppose it’s time for lunch,” said Madam Pince. “Follow the crowds and you’ll find your way to the great hall. I will see you afterward.”

Dor attached herself to the back of a group of students who paid her no mind and followed them to the great hall. There she spied Aelf and Sandra and Isabel. They waved her over and she joined them.

“So how was it?” asked Sandra.

“Are you staying?” asked Aelf.

Dor nodded. “I’ll be doing an independent study with Madam Pince.”   

Sandra hissed in sympathy. “Tough break, girl.”

“No,” said Dor. “It’s… I mean, I understand. She seems pretty strict, but I’ll get to spend all day in the library doing research.”

And that’s a good thing?” said Sandra.

“I love to read and I never thought I’d get to go to school, so… yes?”

Sandra chuckled and shook her head.

“So what did you do?” Dor asked.

“Transfiguration first off, then potions,” said Isabel.

“Professor Slughorn’s so funny,” said Aelf. “Today we made burping potions.”

Lunch arrived then, appearing upon the long table as though by magic. Which it was, Dor reminded herself. There were cold sandwiches and hot soup, chopped vegetables and rolls, pitchers of lemonade and milk. Dor passed a companionable lunch with the three Hufflepuff second years, then asked them to show her back to the library.

When she returned, Madam Pince was scolding a group of older students in red and gold ties about bringing food into the library. The students winced and made for the exit. Madam Pince’s voice was shrill and hard. Dor edged past as Madam Pince shooed them from the library like an angry vulture. Dor hurried back to the study room. The lanterns ignited when she entered. She found there a trio of books stacked upon the table. Theories of the Multiverse by Starswirl the Bearded, Quantum Physics and Parallel Worlds, by Reed Richards, Ph.D, and Considering L-Space by the Librarian of Unseen University, transcribed by Ponder Stibbons.

Dor picked up Theories of the Multiverse, sat in the cushioned chair, kicked off her shoes, and made herself comfortable. She opened to the first page and began to read.

After dinner, Dor followed the girls to the Hufflepuff basement. The common room was full, students ranging in age from eleven to seventeen lounged about in the chairs, reading, studying, chatting, playing chess. Dor had never been interested in gossiping with the other girls at St. Bridget’s Orphanage—who’d gotten a pat on the head from a sister, who’d gotten her bottom smacked, who was acting like a stuck up prig—but this seemed nice.

“Care for some hot chocolate before bed?” Isabel asked. “Johnny Boulder is perfecting his recipes.”

“Hot chocolate? That sounds… decadent.”

Aelf smiled wide. “It is.”

The tall, broad, older boy with the round face smiled as the four of them approached where he sat by the common room fireplace. “Ah, my favorite customers. And you’ve brought a friend.” He had removed his tie and vest and wore his white button up shirt tucked into his fleecy, loose black pants with yellow badgers marching across them. He turned to a pot he was tending near the fireplace. With his wand he stirred the pot, then withdrew a ladle and poured thick brown liquid into four mismatched ceramic mugs.

“I’ve put a bit of cinnamon into this one,” Johnny said.

Dor put her face close to the sweet, hot liquid and breathed deeply. She’d never had chocolate before, but she’d read about it and it sounded wonderful. The scent tickled her nose with a hint of cinnamon before coating her expectations in warm, soft, comfort. She took a sip and decided hot chocolate was better than coffee, at least after a long day of research, sitting next to the fire.

“This is… I can’t even… You’re extraordinary, Mr. Boulder,” Dor said, tears at the edge of her voice. “I’ve never tasted anything like this. Never. This is a rare joy and I thank you for sharing it with me.”

Johnny blinked, taken aback. He swallowed and blushed. “It’s just hot chocolate.”

“It’s exquisite,” said Dor.

He cleared his throat roughly.

Isabel sat on a couch near the fire, sipping her hot chocolate. She patted the spot next to her. “Dor, have a seat?” Dor sat next to her and Aelf sat on her other side. Sandra sat on the couch arm beside Isabel. “Now, it’s time to tell us about your adventure,” said Isabel.

Dor hunched her shoulders. “I wouldn’t call it an adventure. It’s been harrowing.”

“Adventures rarely feel like it at the time,” said Sandra. “It’s only in looking back, sitting by a fire with a warm drink, that the stories can be told with any sort of fondness.”

“With friends,” added Isabel. “We’re all Hufflepuffs here, nobody’s going to laugh at you or call you a liar. But if you’re not ready, no body’s going to think ill of you for it.”

Dor contemplated her cup of hot chocolate. She barely knew these girls. She barely knew this place. But so far she’d managed to make friends across the Multiverse by being honest.

“An adventure. Well, I do like telling stories. The difference with this one is it’s real, and it happened to me. Though I’d never have believed it if you’d told me that a month ago.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate and let it coat her insides like a thick quilt.

“My name is Dorothy Alice Wendy and I am an orphan.” She’d told this story a few times now, but this time she spared no detail. She hadn’t told Professor Sprout and Madam Pince about the spankings. She hadn’t told them how it had felt to live at the orphanage, to feel stories bursting in her head, to dream every night of the fantastic, and never be able to share it lest she be punished. She hadn’t told them how afraid she was when Elmira Gulch had discovered her outside the window, when she’d fallen off the roof. She hadn’t told them how vulnerable she’d felt appearing in a dark, magical wood in nothing but her nightie. She hadn’t described the feeling of warmth at making a friend in Twilight Sparkle. This time, when she told her story, it was not perfunctory, it was not with fear they’d think her delusional. It was instead an expression of herself.

When she finished her hot chocolate, Johnny refilled it. When she got teary-eyed describing how she’d abandoned Jubilee, Isabel rubbed her back. When she described her tiny corner of the War of the Lions, Aelf shed a single tear. And when she at last told them of the Chens and how she’d thought she’d found a place she might stay a while, she realized the Hufflepuff common room had gone silent but for her.

Finally she told them of Mr. Quillon and the Infinite library and how the whole place had made her feel on edge. “And now I’m here,” said Dor. “A planeswalker who doesn’t know how to planeswalk. Given a task I don’t want to pursue. I appreciate everything everyone here has done for me. Especially when there was no reason to trust me. I feel safe here.”

“You are safe here,” said Sandra. “You’re one of us, now and forever. And if that Gulch girl or the creepy collector man come here looking for you, they’ll find out how Hufflepuffs protect their friends.”

A murmur of ascent filled the common room. Dor looked up from her hot chocolate to see everyone’s eyes on her. She blushed and tried to sink into the couch.

Johnny stood up and clapped his hands gently. “All right, everybody. We’ve had our story. It’s time we were off to bed. We’ve all got class in the morning.”

Chapter Text

Dor sat in her study room in the library, reading a blue-leather book entitled Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey by the Doctor. No last name, just the Doctor. Her eyes bleared over at the third digression into the defense of bowties. Dor didn’t know why anyone wouldn’t think bow ties weren’t appropriately dapper or what that had to do with travel between planes of existence, but she soldiered on, reading every word, if only understanding every third.

Her notes over the last weeks studying every book Madam Pince put in front of her were organized into piles and folders marked with brightly colored ribbons and annotated in her increasingly small hand. She’d learned a lot, mostly that the various experts on interdimensional travel were prone to asides. Also that they all had different ideas of how it worked.

Starswirl the Bearded took a meticulous, studied, magical approach to the idea, though for him it was hypothesis without a way to test it. Dr. Richards of the Fantastic Four was much like Starswirl the Bearded in his meticulous, measured approach to the matter, but boiled his experiences to mathematical formulae far over Dor’s head. Doctor No Name was disorganized brilliance, talking about time and space with an unbridled enthusiasm.

Her favorite understanding of the Multiverse, however, came from the Librarian at the Unseen University, who also didn’t seem to have a name. The power of written words, according to the Librarian, was so powerful they could warp spacetime when gathered in large enough, or dense enough, quantities, like libraries, cozy book stores, and piles of unread letters in abandoned post offices. Using the powers of librarianship, a properly trained librarian could wander the Multiverse from library to library.

“A good bookshop is just a genteel black hole that knows how to read.”

The quote from the Librarian’s book on L-Space had so tickled Dor she’d written it prominently upon the blackboard Madam Pince had loaned her.

At a tapping, Dor looked up to find Madam Pince. “Were you here all night, Dorothy?”

Dor blinked at her. “Was I?”

Since coming to Hogwarts, Dor had gotten used to incredible meals, owls delivering the mail, and ghosts wandering the hallways. She’d gotten used to moving paintings and tricky staircases. She’d even gotten used to the mischievous poltergeist. But despite how amazing everything was, despite how comfortable the beds were, Dor had not gotten used to falling asleep without Kya by her side. Every night, she missed other girl fiercely, and could not help but cry herself to sleep. So, sometimes she neglected to go to bed altogether.

Madam Pince clucked exasperatedly. “I’m all for late night study sessions, but this is the third time this week. You need a break.”

Dor stretched her aching neck and blinked her bleary eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No. I don’t think you are. I’m banishing you from the library for the rest of the weekend.”

“Banishing?” Dor said, horrified.

“For the weekend,” Madam Pince reiterated. “I want to look over your notes. Besides, Professor Sprout wants to see you. We’ve arranged for you to visit Olivander’s. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“You’re not coming?” Dor asked.

Madam Pince blinked at her before giving a small smile. “I cannot close the library and I’ll not have those ruffians pawing through my books without supervision.”

Dor chuckled.

“Before you go, what’s the last book you read?”

Dor marked her place with a ribbon, then closed and hefted Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey.

“I mean for pleasure.”

“Oh.” Dor felt her face light up. “War of the Worlds.”

Madam Pince nodded. “I’m afraid we’ve been pushing you too hard on your independent study. You might try reading something else for a bit. We have a section of muggle literature. I’m partial to Tolkien myself. He first published in in nineteen fifty-four.”

“That’s… well after my time,” said Dor in wonder.

“I’m aware. If you’re going to be a space-time traveler, you may as well take advantage of it to read the very best novels. Now, off with you.”

Dor tidied her study room, making sure the books were neatly shelved in order by author’s last name, when they had a last name. She made sure her notes were neatly stacked and tucked into folders, marked with brightly colored ribbons and placed on the bookshelf. All her inkpots were stoppered, all her quills were cleaned.

Dor made her way to the Hufflepuff basement where Isabel, Sandra, and Aelf were already waiting for her, clad in their overcloaks, black and yellow Hufflepuff scarves at the ready.  

“Oh hello. Why aren’t you three in class?”

“It’s Saturday,” said Isabel. “And we’re coming with you. Professor Sprout said we’re going to Diagon Alley.”

“Fantastic,” said Dor. She took in their heavy clothing. “Is Diagon Alley particularly cold?”

“It’s winter, silly,” said Aelf.

“It is?”

“You’ve been here nearly a month. It’s almost December.” said Sandra.

“Oh. Is that why it looked like it was snowing in the great hall last night?”

Her friends giggled at her.

Dor collected her Hogwarts overcloak and her Hufflepuff scarf and joined the others as they trooped to the front doors leading to the Hogwarts grounds. Dor had been about the grounds a time or two, but most of her time was spent in the library.

Professor Sprout was waiting for them. “All set to go then?”

Dor nodded “But where is it exactly we’re going, professor?”

“Olivander’s. It is the premiere wand shop in the country. We’re going to see if we can’t get you a wand.”

Dor blushed. “I, uh… I don’t have any money.”

“That’s quite all right,” said Professor Sprout. “I’ve spoken with the headmistress, and she’s agreed to award you this year’s interdimensional student grant.”

Sandra chuckled and Aelf giggled and Dor looked skeptical.

“This is a long-standing tradition, I suppose?” said Dor.

“Oh yes,” said Professor Sprout. “Nearly an hour and a half now.” She smiled. “Come along, dear.”

They were nearly out the door when hurried footsteps chased them.

“A moment, Dorothy.” It was Madam Pince. She held out a small leather-bound book to her. “So you’ll know you’re not the only one on an unexpected journey. I’ve got several copies of this one. You may keep it as long as you like.”

Dor looked at the book. There and Back Again by J.R.R. Tolkien. “Thank you.”

Madam Pince nodded at her, then turned and strode back to the library.

“Wow,” said Sandra.

“She must really like you,” said Aelf.

“Off we are then,” said Professor Sprout, leading them onto the grounds. “Have any of you used a portkey before?”

Isabel nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Once.”

Dor was relieved to see Aelf and Sandra both shake their heads. At least she wouldn’t be the only one new to whatever exciting magical thing was about to happen next.

“A portkey,” Professor Sprout explained as she led them onto the grounds, “is an item keyed to a particular spot such that when touched, it will transport that person to that particular spot. Because the train takes all day and apparating with passengers can be tricky, I have arranged for us to take a port key to Diagon Alley. Now, it can be disorienting, but once we touch the portkey we need to not let go until the transportation is complete. Understood?”

They all nodded.

“Taking a field trip can be exciting and there’s a lot to see in Diagon Alley, but I expect you all to be on your very best behavior, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Dor.

Professor Sprout led them down to a cottage on the grounds Dor had seen before but not taken much notice of. “Professor Hagrid is out on business today and he agreed to let us use his garden patch as our portkey location.” She led them around behind the cottage to a yard that was largely empty, put to bed for winter. At one corner was an old, wooden bucket.

“Here we are, dears.”

“Is that the portkey?” Dor asked. “The bucket?”

“Why is it all old and falling apart?” Aelf asked.

“That’s to disguise it,” said Isabel. “So muggles don’t touch it accidently. It’d be awful if they started accidently teleporting all across the country.”

“Right you are,” said Professor Sprout. “Five points.”

Isabel beamed but Dor was confused. “Points for what?”

“For the House Cup, silly,” said Aelf.

“House Cup?”

“You’ve got to get out of the library,” said Sandra. “You’re missing all the best parts of Hogwarts.”

Dor blinked, confused. “You mean the library isn’t the best part of Hogwarts? Well, I mean second best,” Dor said hurriedly. “You three are the best part of Hogwarts.” Aelf giggled, Sandra smiled broadly and Isabel blushed. Dor grinned, “Well, you and the food. The food is incredible. And the beds are awfully nice too.”

“Brat,” Sandra said, giving her shoulder a small shove.

They all giggled.

“All right, children. Are you ready?” Professor Sprout asked. “Gather round, reach out your hands but don’t touch it until I say so. Everyone ready? On three. One, two, thr…”

Dor touched the bucket. The world around her spun in a myriad of bright sounds and loud colors. There was no direction, no up and down, only the great spinning of the world. The tickling tingle at her shoulders exploded across her back and her awareness expanded. She could feel the pull of the Multiverse. She did not reach out to it but let it touch her and while the spinning of the world, of the magical transportation, did not cease, it did feel more manageable.

“Hang on,” shouted Professor Sprout. “Almost there!”

Sandra groaned and Aelf screamed. Even Isabel had a closed, clamped look like she might be ill.

A few moments later it all stopped. The ground came under Dor’s feet and she welcomed its firmness. Professor Sprout took a step or two to gain her balance. Aelf, Isabel, and Sandra all tumbled to the ground, dizzy and disoriented.

“Well done, Dorothy. I’ve never seen anyone handle a portkey so well on their first try.” Professor Sprout said.

“Are we there yet?” Sandra asked. “I don’t feel so good.”

“We’re here,” Dor confirmed. She helped Sandra to her feet and let the other girl put a hand on her shoulder while she steadied herself. Isabel used the nearby brick wall to get to her feet, taking several deep breaths. Aelf shook her head when Dor held a hand to her.

“I just need to sit here a few moments,” Aelf said.

Dor looked around. They were in a small brick alleyway leading to a large, main thoroughfare. The buildings of Diagon Alley were tall and meandering, crooked as the alley itself. Brightly colored storefronts sold everything from potion-making supplies to magical pets to flying broomsticks. Dor gawped like a muggle. Professor Sprout led them to a dark, dim shop with gold lettering above the window proclaiming it Olivander’s Wand Shop.

The bell above the door tinkled as they entered.

“I love this shop,” Aelf said. “It’s so homey and interesting and mysterious.”

A long counter separated the small front room from five rows of tall shelves each filled with stacks of nondescript boxes. Dor’s shoulders tingled gently.

“Just a moment, just a moment. I’ll be right there,” came a voice from the back. A few moments later, a young woman with a wild shock of purple-brown hair came to the fore. “Professor Sprout, hello, so good to see you. You were informed Olivander himself would be out on a supply expedition, yes?”

“Yes indeed, Maureen, thank you. I’m sure you’ll do just find helping young Dorothy procure her wand.”

Maureen blushed. “Thank you, professor, that means a lot. So, which one of you is Dorothy?”

“I am, ma’am,” said Dor

“And this will be your first wand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Step forward, let me get a look at you.”

Dor stepped up to the counter, putting her hands behind her back and swaying nervously.

“Hmm. Let me see, let me see.” Maureen wandered back through the stacks, muttering to herself. After a while, “Ah ha! How about this one?” She brought a box forward, set it on the counter, lifted the lid, and gestured for Dor to take it.

Dor picked up the length of wood.

“Alder with a unicorn hair core. A bit bendy, but not too much. How does it feel?”

Dor looked at the wand and shrugged.

“Fair enough,” said Maureen, plucking the wand from Dor’s fingers. “Let’s try something else.” She hurried into the stacks, muttering, and came back with another box. “Willow. Good for healers. The dragon heartstring makes it strong but a bit temperamental.”

Dor took the wand. The tingle at her shoulders intensified but made her vision blurry and she dropped it quickly. “Sorry. Um. I don’t think so.”

“All right, all right. I think we’re getting there though. Narrowing down the choices, eh?”

Dor looked past Maureen to the stacks and stacks of boxes.

Maureen took the wand, popped it in its box, and headed back to the shelves. She came back a few minutes later with a wide smile. She set the box on the counter with an air of triumph.

“This one is pine with a unicorn hair core. It’s quite flexible, requiring the user to be so as well to master it. Pine wands prefer independent masters. This is the wand of a person who is creative with her magic. What do you think, Ms. Dorothy?”

Dor picked up the wand and the tingle of her shoulders spread through all her body; her chest filled with it. The wand was golden-hued with an intricate maze pattern carved into its handle and inked purple. A trio of equidistant flutes ran the length of its shaft. It felt good in her hand, like it belonged there, like it had been waiting for her.

“It’s perfect.”

“Well done, Maureen,” Professor Sprout said quietly.

Maureen blushed. “Well, as they say, the wand chooses the wizard. I just helped a bit.”

“We have an hour before we’re to be back at Hogwarts,” said Professor Sprout. “Feel free to wander but don’t be late and stay away from Knockturn Alley. I don’t want to have to warm any bottoms when we get back.”

The girls giggled as they hurried off. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped as Dor let her friends lead the way. It smelled of snow. Dor pulled her Hufflepuff scarf up over her ears and mouth.

They visited the potions shop where Aelf bought a new cauldron. “Copper is better for burping potions,” she said with a giggle. They visited the book store where Isabel bought the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3. “Just to get a head start,” she said. And they stopped at the joke shop where Sandra bought puking pasties, “In case History of Magic gets even more boring,” she said.

When they left the joke shop, Dor pulled her scarf up against the chill again.

That’s when she saw Elmira. Dor spun around and pretended to examine the items through the joke shop window while staring at the girl through the reflection. Elmira was clad in a black dress and thick boots and a faded red cloak with the hood pulled up. But Dor recognized the hook of her nose, the orange of her eyes. She didn’t know if Elmira had seen her, so she watched the reflection of the other girl as she stalked away.

Several moments later, Isabel found her. “What’s wrong?”

Dor turned slowly, making sure there was no sign of Elmira. “I’ll tell you when we’re back.”

Once safely in their Hufflepuff dormitory, Dor told them about seeing Elmira Gulch.

“You’re certain it was her?” Isabel asked.

Dor nodded.

“Well, we’re safe here,” Aelf said.

“Besides, what was she going to do, attack you in the middle of the street?” asked Sandra.

“Probably,” said Dor. “She’s done it before.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “We’re sort of supposed to be working together, researching Ravenclaw’s Diadem so Mr. Quillon can steal it. But he can spy on me, so maybe he knows I’ve decided not to do it. But according to Hogwarts, a History, the grounds are supposed to have powerful protection magics, so maybe he doesn’t? Either way, I’m sure Elmira would be happy to attack me given half the chance, and I— “

Isabel stood. “Enough. Relax, Dor. You’re safe here.”

Dor closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized she was crying. Aelf sat next to her on her bed and put an arm around her shoulders.

“We should tell Professor Sprout,” said Isabel.

“I should have thought of that. I just wasn’t thinking straight.,” said Dor.

Dor stood, but Isabel shook her head. “On second thought, I’ll take care of that. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Dor swallowed hard but nodded.

Sandra cleared her throat. “Should we give her her present now?”

“Present?” Dor sniffled and wiped away tears.

“Yes, a present,” said Aelf.

“Yeah, we figured since you weren’t here last Christmas, we couldn’t get you anything, so think of this as a very, very late Christmas present,” said Sandra

“For me?’

“Haven’t you ever had a Christmas present before?” asked Sandra.

Dor shook her head. “At the orphanage we celebrated Christmas by listening to one of Sister Mary Margaret’s sermons.”

Isabel withdrew a small package wrapped in brown paper. “We all chipped in.”

Dor unwrapped it to find a brown leather holster with a pair of loops for securing round a belt with a pair of snaps. The leather was thick and durable but pliable.

“It’s for your wand,” said Aelf.

“It’s a holster,” added Sandra.

Dor stared at it in wonder. She’d never received a gift, not from anyone ever.

“Dor, are you okay?”

Dor cleared her throat and blinked away more tears. “I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you so very much.” She looped it through her belt and it felt secure on her left hip. When she slid her new pine and unicorn hair wand into the holster, it felt right.

“Most people don’t wear holsters at school, but it’s better than keeping it in your pocket,” Isabel said. She patted her left hip where Dor saw she had her own wand holstered. She hadn’t noticed that before. “Wands are durable, but every once in a while, someone will snap their wand by sitting on it.”

Dor hugged Isabel impulsively, squeezing her around the shoulders as tight as she could. “Thank you,” she said again.

“You’re quite welcome.”

Before Dor could let Isabel go, Aelf joined their hug and Sandra soon thereafter.

Monday morning, at breakfast, Madam Pince took Dor aside.

“I’m still going through your notes, Dorothy. You’ve made some astute observations. I am, on the whole, impressed. However, you’ve made so many notes I’m not finished.”

“Does this mean I’m still banished from the library?”

Madam Pince smiled. “No. However, I recommend you take another day off. Shadow your yearmates for the day. There’s more to Hogwarts than the library you know.”

Dor rejoined the others at the Hufflepuff table.

“I’ve never seen her smile,” Sandra whispered.

“Be nice,” Dor chided.

“I thought I was.”

After breakfast, Dor joined the others for History of Magic. When the professor walked through the blackboard to begin lessons, Dor nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d seen ghosts up and down the halls, but she hadn’t known one of them was a teacher.

“It’s okay if you fall asleep,” Aelf whispered. “Most do.”

But Dor was fascinated by Professor Binn’s description of the Goblin Wars.

Next, they attended potions, where Professor Slughorn greeted her warmly and made her feel quite at home. She watched the girls brew an antidote to a sleeping draught. At the end of class, Professor Slughorn took volunteers for those who wanted to be the victim of a sleeping draught, assuring them he’d brewed his own antidote just in case. Sandra volunteered immediately.

After lunch, they went to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“It’s my favorite class,” said Isabel. “I’m going to be an auror one day. That’s a dark wizard catcher.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Dor said.

“It is. But it’s important.”

When they arrived at the classroom, there were no desks to be found, instead there was a long, raised platform in the center of the room.

“Is this normal?” Dor asked.

“Not at all,” said Isabel.

A woman in dark slacks and a padded vest over a bright purple blouse entered and the class settled down. The woman’s black hair was done up in a tight braid and had a pink streak through it. She had soft violet eyes that felt familiar to Dor. She wore her wand in a holster on her belt, and Dor was glad she’d chosen to wear her new gift.

“That’s Professor Sparkle,” said Isabel. “Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She’s had the position two years in a row now.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Rumor has it the position has been cursed for decades until Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who.”

Dor shook her head. “I don’t, actually.”

Professor Sparkle jumped upon the platform and clapped her hands. “All right, everyone listen up.” Her voice was familiar too. Dor was certain she’d heard it before. “Today we have a guest speaker. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Harry Potter.”

Harry Potter had black hair and bottle green eyes behind a pair of spectacles. Dor found him quite handsome and felt herself blush. He wore dark grey slacks and a red button up underneath a padded vest much like Professor Sparkle’s. He climbed up on the platform and shook Professor Sparkle’s hand. The class broke into spontaneous applause.

“All right, Mr. Potter, the floor is yours,” said Professor Sparkle.

Mr. Potter looked out at them and gave a small smile. “Hello. As I’m sure you’re all aware, the wizarding war is only a few years gone now, and because of my part in it, I have been invited from time to time to guest lecture for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

“I’ve learned a few things about dueling and coming out the winner. Since you all are second years, we’re sticking to the basics. Today, you’ll be learning the disarming charm. Some of you may think the disarming charm is boring, that you’d like to see something flashier. I understand and, in a few years, we can get to it. But the disarming charm was and is one of my most trusted spells in a conflict. Do not underestimate it.”

He turned and looked at Professor Sparkle. “Shall we give them a demonstration?”

Professor Sparkle nodded grimy. “Dueling is also a sport, so today we’ll be observing some of the niceties. We shall salute our opponents.” She drew her wand and held it vertically at eye level. “And we shall not begin until told to do so. Furthermore, safety is of utmost importance. We will be casting the disarming charm only. No jinxes, no hexes, no curses of any kind. When I say ‘wands down’ that means we’re done. You point your wand at the floor or drop it entirely. Any questions?”

There were none, so Professor Sparkle and Mr. Potter spaced themselves several paces apart on the platform. They saluted each other and took a stance. Their stances weren’t anything like the waterbending stances Dor had learned from Kya, but they took them with practiced ease.

Dor felt a pang as she thought of Kya. It had been weeks since she’d seen her and though she’d made great strides in her research, she was no closer to seeing her again.

Professor Sparkle took a step forward and said something she didn’t quite catch. But Mr. Potter was quicker. He flicked his wand forward.

“Expelliarmus.”

Dor felt a tickle of magic at the base of her skull and along her shoulders.

A dart of white light shot from Mr. Potter’s wand and struck Professor Sparkle in the chest. Her wand flew from her hand and skittered to the end of the platform. The class erupted into applause.

Mr. Potter holstered his wand and faced the class. “That’s basically all there is to it. The somatic component to this spell can be a bit tricky. I prefer a flick of the wrist, but I know others use a variety of movements, so that’s something requiring practice. That said, please remember you’re not to practice magic without adult supervision.”

A murmur of assent shuffled through the students.

“We’re going to practice the word now. Wands away.” He held his hands up and out. “The word is, expelliarmus. Accent the fourth syllable. Ex-pell-i-AR-mus. On three. One… two…”

“Expelliarmus,” the class said together. 

He made them practice the word several more times before he turned to Professor Sparkle and said, “What do you think, should we ask for volunteers?”

Almost every hand in the room shot up.

For the next twenty minutes, in pairs, most of the class got upon the platform and tried their hand as the spell. Most could produce some bit of magic, a bit of light if nothing else, but few managed the spell itself. The first was Merida DunBroch against her fellow Gryffindor, Anna Arendell, striking her in the chest with a dart of light, her wand flying through the air. The class cheered and Anna shook Merida’s hand with a blush.

Dor felt the magic at her neck intensify. She took a deep breath and tried not to get in its way.

Several more students stood upon the platform. A few managed to hit each other with a bit of light, but did not manage to disarm them. When a Ravenclaw girl named Rapunzel faced off against a Slytherin boy named Flynn, Dor felt the tingle at her neck increase. She waited with bated breath while they saluted, took their stances, and were given the signal. With a determined look, Rapunzel flicked her wrist and said, “Expelliarmus.” Flynn fell back on his butt as his wand sailed through the air, and Dor felt the knot of magic solidify at her neck.

She closed her eyes and summoned her spell book, and there, before [Jubilee’s Dazzler], was [Harry’s Expelliarmus].   

Harry’s Expelliarmus                         

Cost:     2W

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Wizard Instant

Text:     Unattach all cards attached to target creature. Its base power becomes 0 until end of turn.

“Dor, are you all right?” Isabel asked.

Dor smiled “I learned the spell,” she whispered.

“Really? In your card book?”

Dor nodded.

“You should go up there,” said Isabel.

“What? Me? You’re the one who wants to be a dark wizard fighter.”

“You should both go,” said Sandra.

“Any more volunteers?” asked Professor Sparkle. “We’ve got time for a few more practice bouts.”

“Right here,” said Sandra, giving Dor and Isabel a shove.

They staggered forward. Isabel looked back and gave Sandra a glare.

“All right you two, come on up,” said Mr. Potter.

Dor looked at Isabel who looked at her and shrugged. They clambered upon the platform. Dor followed Mr. Potter down the platform a ways.

“Remember it’s okay if it doesn’t work the first time. It can be a bit tricky to master. Do you remember the word?” Mr. Potter asked.

“Expelliarmus,” Dor said, and felt the magic buzz up and down her arms.

“Very good. Now, turn and face your opponent.”

Dor did as she was told. Isabel faced her. Professor Sparkle took several steps back from Isabel to the back of the platform.

“Wands out,” said Mr. Potter.

“Salute your opponent,” said Professor Sparkle.

“At the ready,” said Mr. Potter.

Dor took a waterbending stance she’d learned from Kya. She thought she heard some snickering from the students. The tingle at Dor’s shoulders intensified. Every spell in her spell book flickered through her mind in a jumble. She took a deep breath and focused on [Harry’s Expelliarmus].

“Begin,” Professor Sparkle said.

Isabel took a step forward and brought her wand down. “Expelli…”

Dor reacted. “Expelliarmus!”

Two darts of white light streaked at each other and met in a small explosion between them. The crowd of students gasped and burst into applause.

“Wands down!” Professor Sparkle shouted.

Dor let her shoulder drop.

“That was impressive,” said Mr. Potter. “What do you say, professor, shall we give them another shot?”

“Nothing like a good tie breaker,” said Professor Sparkle with a grin. “You up for it, ladies?

Dor nodded, excitement flooding her.

“Absolutely,” said Isabel.

“Wands out…”

“Salute…”

“Ready…”

“Begin!”

Isabel was faster. With a flick of her wrist, and the shouted word, a dart of light hurtled at Dor. [Twilight’s Blink] flashed through Dor’s mind. The magic at her shoulders flowed down her arm to her wand and with a crack she teleported two feet forward, the spell missing her. Behind her, Dor heard Mr. Potter grunt with surprise.

“Expelliarmus,” Dor shouted, liking the way the wand felt in her hand, the way the magic tripped lightly along her arm.

Isabel swung her wand arm in a wide arc and said a word Dor didn’t know. A shield of magic dashed the disarming spell to nothing. Isabel took a step back, preparing another spell. [Kya’s Waterbending] flickered through Dor’s mind. She could feel water nearby, ahead and to her right. She swung her wand arm from one waterbending stance to another and a streamer of water leapt from a pitcher on a sideboard, striking Isabel and nearly knocking her off the platform. Dor stepped forward, prepared with Harry’s Expelliarmus, but Isabel was not to be deterred.

“Stupefy!” Isabel shouted.

Dor stumbled back, her senses numb. She could barely feel her fingers gripping her wand. She felt tired and dull. And yet, when Isabel got to her feet and pointed her wand, Dor was able to think of one thing. [Jubilee’s Dazzler] slid though her mind sluggishly and pink, yellow, and green lights leapt from Dor’s wand, striking her friend in the chest.

“I said wands down!” Professor Sparkle shouted.

Dor felt her wand forced from her grasp as she collapsed.

Several minutes later, after the other students had been sent to their next class, Dor and Isabel sat next to each other on the edge of the platform. Professor Sparkle and Mr. Potter stood at the door, talking quietly for a while before Mr. Potter left. For all that she knew she was in trouble, Dor felt good, energized almost. Before, spending her mana on so many spells at once had exhausted her. She patted the wand in its holster on her left hip. It tingled in response.

“Are you all right?” Dor asked.

“Yeah. You?” Isabel returned.

“Yeah. Sorry I went overboard.”

“Me too. But, I gotta say, that was pretty impressive dueling,” Isabel said.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

They giggled quietly. Then Professor Sparkle fixed them with a stern look and stalked toward them.

“Do you suppose we’re in trouble?” Dor asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Isabel said.

“You two, my office, now,” Professor Sparkle said.

Dor and Isabel slid off the platform and preceded Professor Sparkle into a small room. It was a cozy office, bookshelves on one wall, desk on another, couch on a third.

“We went over this. When I say ‘wands down’, that means stop dueling. Wasn’t I clear?” Professor Sparkle asked.

Both girls nodded silently.

“So why didn’t you listen?”

Dor shrugged miserably.

“Honestly, ma’am, I didn’t hear you,” Isabel said. “I was just so caught up in the duel.”

Dor nodded. “I didn’t mean to disobey you.”

“Be that as it may, you did disobey and you set an extraordinarily poor example for you classmates. Isabel, you’ve got top marks in all your classes. The other Hufflepuffs your age look up to you. And Dorothy, everyone is already infatuated with the mysterious guest spending all her time in the library. The two of you have told the whole school that my rules for safety can be ignored, that they can get away with dueling in my classroom.”

Dor looked down and away and sniffled. She knew she was embarrassing herself, crying in front of Isabel, but she couldn’t help it. She hated being scolded. Worse, Professor Sparkle was right.

Dor studied the rug in the office. It took up most of the floor, so the desk and couch obscured some of it, but she recognized the symbol she was standing in the center of. It was a pink, six-pointed star surrounded by five white, six-pointed stars. It was Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark. Stunned, Dor blinked, letting tears slide down her face and looked at Professor Sparkle. Though she was clearly human, definitely not a unicorn, though her hair was black rather than purple, she had the same pink streak, the same soft, lavender eyes. Even her voice was the same. Dor couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before now.

“Something you want to say, Ms. Dorothy?”

Dor bit her lip and shook her head. “No ma’am.”

“Usually I’d leave this to your head of house, but I’ve spoken with Professor Sprout and she agrees that for such and egregious error, in my classroom, that I should handle it.”

Isabel sniffled and Dor looked at her. She was gratified to see Isabel crying. Not because she wanted her friend to cry, but at least Dor didn’t feel like she was alone.

“Bend over the desk,” Professor Sparkle said.

Dor shivered uncomfortably. She knew what to do, though she hated it. She hated she was to be spanked. She hated she had disappointed Professor Sparkle. She hated that she felt like she deserved it. She wished she knew what kind of spanker Professor Sparkle would turn out to be. Was she mean, like Sister Mary Margaret? Was she kind, like Minwu? If she really was an alternate version of her friend from Equestria, Dor hoped the purple unicorn’s kindness would extend through the Multiverse.

Dor stepped up to the desk, bent over, and grabbed the other side. Next to her, Isabel did the same though with hesitancy.

“If either of you ever does anything like this again, you’ll be banned from any and all dueling exercise in the future. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said together.

Dor heard Professor Sparkle approach. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the desk. At a rustle of fabric, Isabel squirmed uncomfortably and groaned. Dor knew without looking that Professor Sparkle had lifted Isabel’s skirt.

“Please, professor. I’m very sorry,” Isabel said.

The spanking was swift and curt. Eighteen crisp smacks filled the small office. Isabel gasped and coughed then cried freely, and when it was done, Dor felt her friend stand and move away. Then Professor Sparkle’s put a hand gently on Dor’s back and lifted her skirt.

Dor tried to remember if today she’d wore the yellow drawers with black trim or the black with yellow. Panties, she reminded herself. The other girls call them panties. She wondered where the word came from. It seemed a shortened version of pantaloons or pantalets or…

The wandering ramble of her mind ceased as Professor Sparkle’s hand on her back shifted and Dor knew she was about to have her bottom smacked. Even through the sting and embarrassment of being spanked in front of one of her friends for having behaved so recklessly, Dor counted them. Eighteen, nine to each cheek, and her whole body stung with it.

When it was done, Professor Sparkle helped her stand and gave her a brief hug. As spankings went, it hadn’t been awful, nor unfair. In fact, it had been the least she deserved

Professor Sparkle looked at them. She didn’t look angry or stern, but disappointed and faintly sad. “That’s it then,” she said, voice husky. Dor wondered if the professor was about to cry. “If I’m not mistaken, you two are late for charms class. Off you go.”

Dor and Isabel sat together at dinner that evening and spent it quietly. Sandra couldn’t stop reenacting the duel enthusiastically to anyone who would listen.

“And then Isabel cast Protego! I didn’t even know second years could do that! But then Dor…”

Dor blushed but didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. A few Hufflepuff boys tried to give them a hard time for having gotten spanked, but Johnny Boulder rumbled at them menacingly.

“Mind your manners unless you want an official reprimand sent to Professor Sprout. You know what she thinks of teasing.”

After dinner, Dor went straight to bed, Isabel right beside her. They changed in silence. Dor folded her laundry neatly and silently thanked the house elves she’d never seen for taking care of that necessity. As she dug in her wardrobe for her nightie, she caught a glimpse of Isabel from the corner of her eye. Curiosity getting the best of her, she looked at her friend’s naked backside and noted there was no evidence of spanking, not a hint of pink and certainly no bruises. Isabel noticed her noticing and blushed.

“It doesn’t sting anymore,” Isabel said, pulling on a faded pink nightie with a blue and yellow flower print

“Yeah,” said Dor, pulling on her soft yellow Hufflepuff nightie.

“You… you said you got spanked really hard at the orphanage, but that the cleric lady was nice about it.” Isabel sat on her bed.

Dor nodded as she sat on her bed, facing Isabel.

“Professor Sparkle seems the nice kind of spanker, weird as that sounds.”

Dor nodded again. “Definitely. On both counts.”

“Still, I haven’t been spanked since I was ten years old, and I’ve never been spanked at school. It… it didn’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry,” Dor said.

Isabel shook her head. “Not your fault. Also, we were already spanked, no more guilt. Right?”

“Right.”

Isabel stood and hugged Dor and Dor hugged her back.

They went to bed. Dor closed the curtains on her four-poster bed and heard Isabel do the same. Though the sting of the spanking had long since faded, Dor imagined she could still feel it. She’d hated to think it, but something about that sting, a part of it anyway, felt nice. It felt warm and comforting and protective. She drew up the covers and turned on her side and closed her eyes. She pulled one of the many pillows to her chest and rested her left arm over it. She thought of Kya and her heart ached for her friend. She remembered lying next to her, much like this, cuddled close. She missed Kya in a way she couldn’t quite describe, and she cried into her pillow until falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Dor curled in her chair in her study room. She’d brought a blanket from the dormroom and was wrapped in it. The library had been empty when she’d arrived, but the lights in the study room flared to life when she’d entered. She was reading Considering L-Space again, and thinking.

Only a couple days ago, she’d seen Elmira in Diagon Alley, which meant that though the other girl had made it to this plane, she hadn’t been able to get onto Hogwarts grounds. She was probably furious with Dor. She’d probably reported to Mr. Quillon. Everything Dor had read about Hogwarts suggested there could be no magical observation upon the castle. But Mr. Quillon was crafty and he probably knew that if he couldn’t see her, she was at the castle.

And much as she might want to, Dor could not hide at Hogwarts for the rest of her life. She had to think of a way to deal with Mr. Quillon, to get him to leave her alone. To get Elmira to stop coming after her. And she kept thinking the answer had something to do with L-Space. Mr. Quillon had said the Infinite Library abhorred paradox. Considering L-Space claimed a proper librarian did not disrupt causality.

“Perhaps I could lure him into paradox,” Dor whispered.

“Lure who into paradox?” Madam Pince said quietly from the doorway.

Dor started and snapped the book shut. Madam Pince raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry,” said Dor. “I… I was just thinking aloud.”

“About your interdimensional pursuers?”

Dor nodded.

“Hmm. Fair enough. But please remember your primary goal in this library is to research the Multiverse and how you might travel through it. And on that topic, you’ve been doing quite well. Shall we go over your notes?”

Dor beamed. “Yes, please.”

They went to Madam Pince’s office, and Dor lost track of time. She and Madam Pince sorted and resorted her notes on the nature of traveling the Multiverse. Madam Pince was impressed with the number of theories she’d managed to piece together but suggested she hadn’t thought much about her own experiences. She praised Dor’s organization, but chided her for her lack of focus.

“Remember your goal. Tangents and sidebars are fine so long as you mark them clearly and return to the point. Otherwise you’ll end up writing something unfocused, like that Wibbly Wobbly book.”

Dor nodded. “Yes, ma’am. But it’s hard to hold it all in my head at once.”

“That’s understandable,” said Madam Pince. “There are tricks you’ll learn. You’ve already implemented one of them, having taglines to summarize each section. If you like, there’s a spell I can show you. I don’t know if you’ll be able to learn it though.”

Dor brightened. “I learned the disarming charm.”

Madam Pince fixed her with a look. “Yes. I heard.”

Dor blushed.

“I take it Professor Sprout spanked you?”

Dor cleared her throat. “Professor Sparkle actually.”

“Ah. Good. She’s been reluctant to take a firmer hand with her students. I’m glad she’s coming along.”

Dor looked away.

“Do you object?” Madam Pince asked.

Dor shook her head. “No ma’am.”

Madam Pince looked at her skeptically.

“Honestly. We didn’t listen. We disobeyed, were a horrid example, and likely put others at risk. We got the spanking we deserved. But, it’s still embarrassing.”

“Hmm. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by your maturity.”

Dor looked at the paddle leaning in the corner behind Madam Pince’s desk. The librarian followed her gaze.

“Have you ever actually used it?” Dor asked.

“That paddle? Goodness no, that’d be monstrous. It’s a deterrent. If my fearsome reputation can stop children mishandling books, all the better. Which isn’t to say I haven’t spanked students. Just this year a silly first year from Gryffindor lit a book on fire practicing transfiguration. I smacked his bottom thoroughly, I assure you.”

Dor blushed again.

“Now, about that spell,” said Madam Pince. “This is a quiet spell, a slow spell, a spell of contemplation. It’s not flashy or exciting. It is used to calm the mind and organize the thoughts.” Madam Pince drew her wand. “I want you to concentrate, Dorothy. Focus on your mind. It can be helpful to have a metaphor. Some prefer a bowl of water or a candle flame or a study room. Can you do that?”

Dor imagined the room in her mind and it came readily. The wood paneled walls, the quiet lighting, the tingle at her shoulders suffused her, ready for Madam Pince’s instruction.

“Yes,” said Dor. “I’m familiar with the room in my mind.”

“Excellent. Imagine your thoughts like books on a shelf.”

The spellbook appeared in Dor’s lap as she sat, cross-legged in the center of the room.

“But not just any shelf, a library shelf, meticulously organized, easy to search. Sometimes, simply by looking at the books on the shelf, you will recall details you wouldn’t have otherwise. Can you see the shelf?”

In the room in her mind, a bookshelf appeared along one wall, filled with the books she’d read since beginning her independent study. They were as organized in the room in her mind as they were in her study room. She stood and placed her spellbook with the others.

“Yes,” Dor said.

“Catalog Cogitatus,” Madam Pince murmured softly.

The tingle suffusing Dor intensified.

“Catalog Cogitatus.”

It built, concentrating at the base of her skull. She relaxed, letting the magic take hold.

“Catalog Cogitationes meas.”

A quiet calm of thought washed over Dor and a new playing card eased through her mind.

Pince’s Catalogue              

Cost:     1U

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Librarian

Text:     Scry 5 (look at the top five cards of your library, then put any number of them on the bottom of your library and the rest on top in any order.)

Dor skipped lunch, so Madam Pince insisted she go to dinner early. She was alone in the great hall eating a buttered roll and reading There and Back Again. Bilbo Baggins had just escaped Gollum with a clever riddle game when other students began trickling in.

“’What have I got in my pocket’ is not a riddle,” Dor said under the building hubbub. She grinned. It had been a clever and exciting passage. She appreciated Bilbo as a reluctant hero with a penchant for stories and poems.

But her attention wandered as the great hall filled. She started thinking about her own problems instead of Mr. Baggins’. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced L-Space was her best chance to rid herself of Mr. Quillon. Considering L-Space listed three tenants of being a librarian:

1. Silence

2. Books must be returned by the date stamped

3. Do not interfere with causality

Mr. Quillon was well practiced in avoiding interference with causality as his concern for paradox underscored. She wondered if there was a way to check out a book to him and have it marked overdue. Would that be enough to raise the ire of the Infinite Library? Dor thought not.

Perhaps…

“Hey, there she is.”

Dor blinked up from her book and her thoughts. A small knot of second-years approached her: one each from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and two Gryffindors. She recognized Hiccup Haddock immediately from the Hufflepuff common room. He was a slender, tousle-headed boy with a warm smile and always nodded to her in a friendly manner when they’d made eye-contact.

The others it took her a moment to put a name to, but she realized she’d met them, however briefly, while shadowing her year-mates to their classes. There was Rapunzel Corona the Ravenclaw with long blonde hair that fell to the floor in a thick braid. Flynn Ryder was a handsome Slytherin boy with an easy smile. Anna Arendell was a pretty brunette with a persistent smile and rosy cheeks from Gryffindor.

Leading the group of five second-years was Merida DunBroch. She had wildly-auburn hair, and an aggressive stride. She was the Gryffindor girl who’d so adroitly cast Expelliarmus against Anna in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Dor didn’t like being approached by a group of people, but she deliberately kept herself from shrinking back. Instead, she made sure of her wand at her hip and focused on the magic at her shoulders. She reminded herself that Hiccup, at least, was friendly.

“Dorothy, right?” said Merida. She had a distinctly Scottish accent.

“You can call me Dor.”

“Right. So, we’ve been thinking. Since you and Isabel put on that display in Defense Against the Dark Arts a few days ago, we’ve been thinking. We were wondering if you might wanna help us out.”

Dor must have looked skeptical.

“No, really. We were thinking of…”

“We want to start a dueling club,” said Rapunzel.

“I was getting to it,” said Merida.

“You were beating around the bush,” said Anna with a smile.

“Isn’t this supposed to be clandestine?” said Flynn, his voice smooth and low. “You should probably be talking a little quieter.”

“Right,” said Merida, doing nothing to modulate her volume. “We’re thinking about putting together a secret club, and we thought you and Isabel might like to join us, to maybe show us what you know. I’ve never seen second years so adept at it. Dueling you know. And just because the war’s over doesn’t mean we don’t have to watch out for ourselves.”

Dor bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to say no, but was afraid of how they would react if she did. She was scrambling to come up with a nice way of asking them to go away when she felt a familiar presence behind her.

“What’s going on?”

Relief flooded Dor’s shoulders when she heard Isabel’s voice.

“Oh good,” said Merida. “You’re here too.”

“You all right, Dor?” Isabel asked.

“We weren’t bothering her,” said Anna defensively.

“Right. We’re inviting you two to help us put together a dueling club,” said Merida.

“Clandestine,” added Flynn.

“Right,” said Merida. “You guys ever hear of the Room of Requirement? Rumor has it that’s where Harry Potter and Dumbledor’s Army practiced dueling in secret.”

“No,” said Isabel.

Dor heaved a sigh of relief. The thought of disobeying and disappointing Professor Sparkle again made her want to cry, but she hadn’t known how to say that to such and earnest looking group.

“It certainly is,” Rapunzel said. “The Room of Requirement is a special room here in the castle and it has been used…” She trailed off as she realized that’s not what Isabel had meant.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” said Hiccup. It was the first time he’d spoken up in the group. He looked perplexed and a little hurt.

“I mean, we’re not interested in a secret dueling club,” Isabel said. She looked at Dor.

Dor nodded. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Merida DunBroch scoffed. “What are you afraid of? Don’t want Professor Sparkle to smack your bottoms again? Afraid of a little spanking? Sparkle’s a pushover.”

“She’s not,” said Dor, standing and snapping her book closed. The group took a collective step back. She hadn’t meant to snap at them or startle them.

“It’s not that we wouldn’t enjoy a good duel,” said Isabel. “And, you’re right,” she blushed. “Getting a spanking from one of my favorite professors was mortifying. But what I’m afraid of is getting barred from any future dueling exercises. That’s what Professor Sparkle said would happen. You all might think she’s a pushover, but I think she means it. I won’t risk my best chance to be an auror just because you want to go shooting spells at each other in secret.”

An idea occurred to Dor and it seemed so obvious she was surprised no one else had said it. “You know, you could petition to start an overt dueling club. Professor Sparkle seems to know a lot about it. I expect that if you asked her to set up something official, with all the precautions and supervision, she’d at least consider it.”

Merida’s eyebrows shot up, then her expression turned thoughtful.

“That’s reasonable,” said Rapunzel with a hint of excitement.

“A bit less fun,” said Flynn.

“Not everything has to be cloak and dagger.” Anna nudged the Slytherin boy.

Flynn shrugged but smiled.

“You can ask her right now,” said Dor, nodding at the head table where Professor Sparkle had just entered, finding her seat near the end.

Merida looked at Professor Sparkle, then back at Dor and Isabel. “If she says yes, do you want in?”

Dor felt a tingle of excitement in her chest and smiled.

Dueling club took place at four in the afternoon on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Madam Pince snorted when Dor told her about joining Professor Sparkle’s club.

“You’re the one who keeps telling me I need to get out of the library more. You said I was studying too hard, that my notes were running in circles,” said Dor, as she tidied her study room.

Madam Pince looked up from where she was marking Dor’s second draft of her term paper on the nature of planeswalking.

“Indeed I did. I thought you might enjoy reading fiction.”

“I do,” said Dor. “In fact I loved There and Back Again! The riddle game was beautifully done and facing down Smaug was so incredibly thrilling and Thorin…” Dor sighed sadly. “And just think, if Mr. Baggins hadn’t decided to go on that adventure, hadn’t decided to face his fears, Middle Earth would be a lot worse off.”

Madam Pince smiled.

“However, I’m sure to run into Elmira or Mr. Quillon again, and I refuse to be a victim.”

“You’re safe from them here, at Hogwarts.”

“Should I just live in the castle for the rest of my life?”

“Are you prepared to kill them?” Madam Pince asked.

Dor froze in the act of shelving Quantum Physics and Parallel Worlds. “Kill? I just want to be able to defend myself.”

“And do you think that will stop them pursuing you across the Multiverse?”

Dor bit her lip and shelved the book. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t mean to dissuade you protecting yourself, Dorothy. But meeting your problems with violence is often the path to more violence.”

Dor picked up Theories of the Multiverse. “Well, I did have another idea.” She slid the book onto the shelf. “What would you think of falsifying research?”

Madam Pince spanked her bottom, quick and hard. Dor yelped and stepped out of reach before the irate librarian could spank her again.

“What would you think of a well-spanked bottom?” Madam Pince returned, looking over her spectacles sternly.

Dor put both hands under her skirt to rub her bottom vigorously. “It might be worth it.”

Madam Pince raised an eyebrow at her.

“Let me explain,” Dor said quickly. “Mr. Quillon told me the Infinite Library abhors a paradox. In Considering L-Space the Librarian of the Unseen University says librarians traveling the Multiverse shouldn’t interfere with causality. I think I might be able to convince Mr. Quillon to commit a paradox and let him reap the consequences.”

“Hmm.” Madam Pince frowned. “What would you require?”

“A way to convince him the diadem used by Voldemort and destroyed by Mr. Potter wasn’t Ravenclaw’s actual diadem. Maybe we could convince him Ravenclaw’s daughter stole a fake. By all accounts, Ravenclaw was awfully clever.”

Madam Pince snorted. “Any fool would see through such a ruse. No self-respecting librarian would believe such a claim without clear evidence. Primary sources.”

Dor nodded. The sting in her bottom faded. She picked up her Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey and shelved it. “You’re right. And it’s not like we can falsify primary sources.”

Madam Pince smacked her bottom again, but gentler this time. Dor gasped and turned, both hands firmly on her bottom.

“I am a librarian, Ms. Dorothy. I do not approve of forging historical documents.”

Dor sniffled back a tear. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Madam Pince’s expression softened. “That said, it’s not a totally foolish idea.”

Dor lifted her skirt to rub her bottom again. “It’s not?”

“I’m fluent in five languages… I can disguise my handwriting… There are spells for aging documents…” Her expression turned thoughtful.

“Madam Pince?”

The librarian blinked and focused on Dor. She frowned faintly.

“Are… are you going to spank me?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Do you really think a paradox will stop this man?”

Dor shrugged. “I don’t know. But like you said, dueling might not work. So…”

Madam Pince pursed her lips. “Go on to your little club. Let me think on this.”

Dor nodded. “Thank you, Madam Pince.” Just to be safe, Dor didn’t turn her back on the librarian as she left the study room.

Dueling club was a hit. At four o’clock, more than fifty students of varying ages and houses filed into Professor Sparkle’s classroom where, again, the desks and chairs had been removed to make way for the long dueling platform. Sandra and Aelf came, though neither was especially interested in dueling, and Dor got the impression from the bits of conversation she overheard some were here out of simple curiosity.

The second years who had approached her a few days ago in the great hall were all there. Merida gave her a grin, Flynn a nod. They all looked proud and excited. They waved and the Hufflepuff second years joined them. Merida introduced them to Alice Liddell, a Ravenclaw second year with a dreamy expression who stood close to Rapunzel; and Vanellope VonSchweetz, a Slytherin second year.

“My sister’s here too,” said Anna, pointing out a tall, white-haired Slytherin girl chatting with a group of older students.

When Professor Sparkle showed up, she stood upon the platform and clapped her hands to gain their attention. “Good afternoon. I know you’re probably excited to jump right into slinging spells, but that’s not how a dueling club works, and if you think it is I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. We will be approaching dueling from a disciplined stance. I want to instill in this club a sense of safety and good sportsmanship. I will accept nothing less. Safety in a dueling club begins with wand care.” Professor Sparkle spent the next ten minutes discussing methods for maintaining a wand and how to carry it so it was both at the ready and unlikely to be damaged. Dor noticed some students getting bored and wondered if Professor Sparkle was weeding out the merely curious.

Professor Sparkle reiterated her rules for safety, primary among them that ‘wands down’ meant stop immediately. Dor blushed and looked away.

Finally, they got to practicing spells. They started with Expelliarmus, and Professor Sparkle invited Dor and Isabel onto the platform to demonstrate.

“You sure?” Dor asked quietly when she and Isabel were on the platform.

“Absolutely,” said Professor Sparkle.

They demonstrated salute and ready, and when Professor Sparkle shouted “Begin!” they each fired the disarming charm. Isabel was quicker and Dor’s wand was forced from her hand. The students applauded. In addition to Expelliarmus, Professor Sparkle taught them the stunning spell, Stupefy, and the shield spell, Protego. Though Dor felt a tickle at her shoulders, neither spell became a playing card in her mind that afternoon.

At the end of club, Professor Sparkle asked for volunteers for a practice bout.

“We’ll only be using the three spells we practiced today,” Professor Sparkle said.

Several students raised their hands. Professor Sparkle paired up students largely by age and house. Anna’s big sister, Elsa, managed to disarm a fellow Slytherin girl. A handsome, blond Hufflepuff boy named Kristoff disarmed a thick-chested Hufflepuff boy name Ralph. And on it went. The last pairing was Flynn Ryder of Slytherin and Hiccup Haddock of Hufflepuff.

“Begin!” Professor Sparkle called.

Flynn cast Protego against Hiccup’s Expelliarmus, then followed up with a Stupefy. Hiccup staggered back.

“Wands down!” Professor Sparkle shouted.

But Flynn flicked his wrist and said “Expelliarmus!”

Hiccup’s wand pinwheeled through the air.

Dor and Isabel looked at each other. A hushed murmur rippled through the students.

Professor Sparkle hopped upon the platform between the students as Flynn dropped his wand arm with a disarming grin. Professor Sparkle didn’t look at him.

“That’s enough for today,” Professor Sparkle said. “Go have dinner, we’ll meet again this time next week.”

The crowd of students turned to head for the door. They were nearly there when Professor Sparkle called out again.

“Mr. Ryder, stay a moment.”

Dor felt herself shiver and blush. She kept her steady pace for the door even as another murmur took the crowd of students. She tried not to listen. Soon enough they entered the great hall just as dinner appeared on the table. Dor was ravenous after the exertion of casting Expelliarmus over and over again. She and her friends ate heartily.

“I don’t really think it’s for me,” said Aelf. “I think I’ll stay focused on my potion work.”

“Yeah,” said Sandra. “Seems like an awful lot of work. I’m not sure why you guys want to take what amounts to an extra class.”

“Because I want to be an auror,” Isabel said.

Dor focused on her food, letting their conversation wash over her.

Several minutes later, Flynn shuffled into the great hall, cheeks red, nose sniffly, shoulders sheepish. Dor looked up at him as he passed by the Hufflepuff table and they shared a moment, Flynn squirming uncomfortably. Then he gave a small nod and squeezed into a spot at the Slytherin table.

After dinner, Dor went to the Hufflepuff baths off the common room. The baths were one of the many wonders of Hogwarts School of Wizardry. There was a large communal pool of steaming water and several smaller, private baths where the temperature could be easily adjusted. There were all sorts of taps with all sorts of functions from soap to bubbles to things Dor didn’t know what to do with. She generally just turned the water on hot and soaked for several minutes before scrubbing down and washing her hair.

“Mind if I join you?” Isabel asked as they walked into the changing room, bathrobes over their arms.

“What?” said Dor. “No, not at all.”

Bathing at the orphanage had been a cold, brief affair of washing with lukewarm water from a bucket in a communal wash room. Dor had been briefly nude around the other girls many times, and she’d never been comfortable with it.  But she got along with Isabel far better than the girls at the orphanage, so though she was sure her pale cheeks were red under her freckles, she tried to ignore her embarrassment.

She undressed in a curtained off cubby, tossing her clothes from the day into a small duffle bag before pulling on her bright yellow bathrobe. The communal bath was occupied by several sixth and seventh year Hufflepuff girls chatting amiably in small groups, their voices bouncing off the water in the large room, the air steamy. Dor and Isabel found a small, private bath that was empty. Once the heavy curtain was pulled on their small bath, most of the noise was blocked.

“I prefer it hot,” said Isabel. “Do you have a preference?”

“Not the hottest,” said Dor. She’d experimented with the taps her first time and found the hottest was too much for her.

Isabel nodded and fiddled with the taps until a steamy stream poured into the bath, mixed with a faint lavender scent. The bath was tiled with a mosaic of the Hufflepuff crest at the bottom and big enough for several to sit around the built-in bench at the perimeter. Isabel slipped off her robe and stepped into the bath, sitting, the water already at her knees. Dor had seen Isabel naked from time to time when changing in their dormroom, she was used to her smooth dark skin, the gentle curve of her bottom, her wide, dark nipples, but this felt different, intimate. Blushing, Dor also disrobed and stepped into the tub before taking the ribbons out of her hair and undoing the braids.

The side of the tub was sloped, allowing them to lean back and she rested her head on the rounded corner. The air got warm and thick and comfortable.

“What’d you think of dueling club?” Isabel asked, her voice floating through the fog of the bath.

“I liked it,” said Dor. “I didn’t learn either of the spells though.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“I don’t know. The workings of my spell book are a mystery to me. I don’t know if I should focus and make it happen, or relax and let it happen, or something else entirely. But I definitely felt something.”

Isabel nodded. After a while, she said, “I’m a little worried with the way Professor Sparkle started. I think some will think the club is boring and quit. Like Sandra and Aelf.”

“That’s probably not so bad,” said Dor. “If only those who are really interested stay, it might keep some nonsense out of the club.”

“Good point.” Then Isabel laughed. “Except Flynn.”

Dor chuckled quietly. “He got his bottom smacked though, so perhaps that will be a lesson to everyone in the club.”

They sat in silence but for the rush of water into the tub. When it reached their shoulders, the taps turned themselves off.  Dor tried to let her mind drift.

“You’re planning on leaving soon, aren’t you?” Isabel said suddenly, her quiet voice carrying across the rippling surface of the bath.

“What? I… How did you know?”

“You’ve been quiet the last few days. I mean, you’ve always been pretty shy, but I can tell you’re thinking about something. You are, after all, a planeswalker, so I figured this meant you were preparing to leave.”

Dor nodded. “It’s not that I want to leave. Hogwarts is amazing and I’ve learned so much and I’ve made friends. But knowing Elmira is in Diagon Alley, knowing Mr. Quillon is not likely to give up… I must handle the situation. I don’t want to always be looking over my shoulder. I don’t want to hide.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a bit of a plan. Madam Pince is going to help me.” Dor’s bottom tingled.

“What if you’re successful?” Isabel asked. “Would you come back?”

Dor considered. “I don’t know.”

Water dripped quietly in the distance. The conversation of the girls in the communal pool babbled like a distant brook.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Isabel said.

Dor blushed. “I suppose.”

“Are you in love with the water mage you told us about?”

The heat of Dor’s cheeks was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She squeezed in on herself and sunk into the water up to her nose. After a while, she straightened. “The sisters at St. Bridget’s were clear about the appropriate relationship between girls,” Dor said.

Isabel snorted and made a dismissive gesture, splashing water. “I’m not concerned with the opinion of those mean old ladies from a hundred years ago.”

The water had cooled, the steam had dissipated and Dor realized Isabel, sitting across from her, was closer than she’d thought. She blushed hard. She thought about all the nights she’d sniffled herself to sleep, thinking of Kya.

“I… I miss her. I think about her a lot. I really want to see her again. I don’t know.”

“I thought it might be something like that,” Isabel said. She took a deep breath and went under the water. When she came up, she turned on one of the taps for a bit of shampoo. Dor followed suit.

After changing into their nighties, they joined their friends in the Hufflepuff common room. Johnny Boulder was making hot chocolate with mint extract. Dor gladly accepted a cup before going to bed early. Clad in her pale, yellow nightie, she put her wand in its holster under the pillow next to her. She closed her eyes and imagined the room in her mind. It came to her easily.

The bookshelf she had imagined at Madam Pince’s direction had become a regular feature of the room. The spellbook appeared in her hands and she looked at [Pince’s Catalogue]. In the art of the playing card, Madam Pince sat at her desk, surrounded by stacks of books. She looked calm and focused. And as Dor felt the magic tingle along her shoulders and to the playing card, she felt her own mind focus.

The uncomfortable thoughts Isabel had stirred in the bath settled and she was able to put them aside for the moment. She drew from the shelf Considering L-Space by the Librarian at the Unseen University. Without opening the book, its contents were available to her. Even though some of it was still beyond her understanding, she could think about it in ordered parts.

According to the Librarian, all libraries were connected. The trick was figuring out how to get from one to the other. The light of the Multiverse warmed in her chest and filled the room and Dor looked up to find a hallway had appeared. Dor walked to the hallway, her bare feet quiet on the wooden floor. She let the fingers of her right hand trail along the corridor wall. Soon the walls were lined with bookshelves and her fingers skimmed the bookspines. Her thoughts focused on Jubilee, her friend of only several hours with whom she’d shared a poptart and escaped mechanical spiders.

A moment later, she came to an opening on her right, fingers no longer touching books. She turned and found a new hallway of books. The shelves here were metal. The corridor led to a large open room with tall windows. It was summer on the other side of those windows unlike where she lay in bed at Hogwarts where winter was deep and Christmas was soon.

Sitting at a table with other kids their age was Jubilee. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a bright pink shirt and a yellow jacket.

“Jubilee?” Dor called. But her voice did not carry through the bookshelves. She started to walk toward her friend but stopped herself. She didn’t have her wand, she wasn’t dressed, and she didn’t know if she could replicate this feat. She turned back to the hallway of bookshelves in her mind and continued, the effect of [Pince’s Catalogue] still organizing her thoughts.

She took several more steps, thinking on Twilight Sparkle, the unicorn, not the professor, until, only moments later a break opened on her left. The wooden shelves in this hallway were smooth and curved and opened into a wide, round room, at the center of which, Twilight Sparkle lay with a book open in front of her, propped upon magic. Next to her sat a diminutive dragon with purple scales and green ridges—Spike was his name, she recalled. Twilight said something to him and he laughed, but Dor could hear neither.

She continued down her hallway and when next it opened found herself looking down a corridor of books at Minwu. She had expected to find the white mage in her healing ward tent, but recalled never having seen a book there. This was clearly a library with a wooden floor and wooden shelves. Minwu’s hair was loose around her face, pale pink and shining, her robe was clean, free of mud and blood stains, and her belly was swollen. With a shock, Dor realized Minwu was pregnant. She was simultaneously thrilled for her friend and wondered how long it’d been since she’d left. Dor wanted to go to Minwu, but stopped herself again. If she could make this work again, there would be plenty of time to see Minwu.

Dor continued down the hallway in her mind, focusing now on Kya Chen and her parents. A new corridor did not open in her mind within moments as had the others, but she felt the warmth in her chest, the tingle along her shoulders, her mind ordered and focused. Finally a corridor did open. It was long and dim with a marble floor, and when Dor looked down it, she did not see Kya, nor anyone else for that matter. She knew, without knowing how, that this was Republic City. It wasn’t an alternate or parallel version, but the version she knew.

Dor waited, in case Kya was about to walk by, but after several minutes, sighed and moved on.

Her mind focused on Madam Pince and almost immediately a new corridor opened. Madam Pince sat at her desk, several stacks of books around her and one before in which she wrote with a quick, neat hand. Dor took a step down this side corridor and felt a tingle over her, like popping a soap bubble. She found herself no longer in the hallway in her mind but walking between bookshelves in the Hogwarts library. Soon she was at the half wall separating the rest of the library from Madam Pince’s office. She knocked on the counter gently.

“Yes, I see you,” said madam Pince. “Give me a moment.”

Dor waited patiently while Madam Pince finished her writing.

Eventually the librarian set her quill aside and looked up. “I didn’t hear you come in, Dorothy. In fact, I’m certain I locked the door. Have you taken to breaking into libraries late at night?”

“No,” said Dor. “I would never. But I think I’ve discovered a way to direct my planeswalking. It has to do with L-Space, all libraries being connected.”

“Hmm. The Librarian at the Unseen University,” said Madam Pince

Dor nodded. She explained her most recent wandering. “The only thing I’m not sure of is that I started in the room in my mind, not in a library.”

“Didn’t you though? How many books have you read?”

“Sixty-seven,” Dor said immediately. “Fifty-eight at St. Bridget’s. Here I’ve read five books on planeswalking plus the Lord of the Rings trilogy and There and Back Again.”

“And from your notes, I get the impression you don’t forget much of what you’ve read. My hypothesis is that your mind is much like a library. And that’ll be the key to your personal interdimensional travel.”

Dor’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“In any case, you should be off to bed. I’ve a lot of work here, falsifying historical documents.” She gave Dor an arch look.

Dor put a hand on her bottom reflexively.

“And, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, I’ve decided not to spank for it. Though I probably should.”

Dor blushed.

“Can you go back the way you came or shall I escort you?”

Dor closed her eyes and pictured the room in her mind. A door stood now at one end, where the corridor had appeared. All along one wall where before there had been only one bookshelf, it was now filled with bookshelves. Without looking she knew each book upon it was a book she’d read. A small study table, much like the one in her study room, stood in the center of the room. Upon it was her spell book. In one corner, opposite the new door, was an overstuffed chair of faded grey with a black and yellow quilt folded over one arm.

Dor approached the doorway and it opened without being touched. Beyond was the book-lined corridor. She stepped into it, thinking of the Hufflepuff common room and after a few steps found a branching corridor. She turned down it and found herself in the corner of the common room where shelves were over-stuffed with books ranging from gardening to cooking to love poems. The common room was empty and quiet, the fire burning low.

Dor padded on bare feet to bed.

Dor ate more than she should have at the end of term feast. She’d given Madam Pince her term paper. It wasn’t perfect, her writing style had plenty to improve upon, but it was well-organized and thorough and she was proud of herself.

The students of Hogwarts School of Wizardry were in rare form during the feast, and the professors allowed it. The great hall’s ceiling mirrored the dark, snowy sky above and magical snow danced among the students. There was roast turkey and glazed ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, yams and rolls and cranberries, pumpkin pie and apple pie and every kind of pie Dor could think of. She had a taste of them all. When the feast was over and they’d been chivvied off to the basement, Dor was suffused with a warm, happy glow.

“We’re heading off for Christmas break,” said Isabel. “You gonna be okay without us?”

Dor shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

“We have something for you,” Isabel said.

“What?”

“Come on, silly,” said Aelf. “We got you a present.”

“Again?”

“The holster was for last Christmas,” Sandra said. “This is for this Christmas.”

“It’s a laundry bag,” Isabel said, pulling a box out from under her bed and handing it to her. “You know, in case you go traveling again soon.” She gave Dor a pointed look. “It’s got a special charm on it. Any clothing you put in the bag will be mended, laundered, dried and folded in half an hour.”

Dor opened the box. It was a plain looking canvas bag with a drawstring around the opening. She pulled it from the box and fluffed it open to look inside. It looked perfectly normal.

“Try it,” Sandra encouraged.

“You said it takes half an hour.”

“Well, then you’ll know in half an hour whether it works.”

Dor picked up her dirty clothes for the day that she’d set aside for the house elves. She dumped it in the bag and drew the drawstrings closed. She felt a tingle of magic along the bag.

“Thank you, all of you. This is excellent. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anything. I don’t have any money.”

“That’s quite all right,” said Isabel.

They talked late into the night, Isabel, Aelf, and Sandra describing how they expected to spend the Christmas break. Isabel’s family would be visiting the French countryside. Aelf’s whole family was meeting at her great grandma’s house on the Isle of Skye. Sandra’s family had already begun preparing the series of feasts they’d be consuming.

After an hour or so, Dor remembered her present and looked in the bag. Sure enough, one set of school uniform clothes sat in the bottom, folded and still warm.

“Ms. Dorothy. I need to speak with you in my office.”

Dor had just bid her friends goodbye and was headed back to the Hufflepuff basement when Madam Pince’s voice stopped her. She turned to find Madam Pince fixing her with a stern look.

“Was there something wrong with my term paper?”

Madam Pince’s expression softened. “No. Nothing like that. Though I do have a few notes. Come with me.”

Dor let Madam Pince lead her to the library. The library was dark and quiet, abandoned but for them. A lantern on her desk illuminated Madam Pince’s desk.

“I’ve finished,” she said, gesturing at a trio of books. She tapped one. “This is an altered version of Hogwarts, a History. I’ve added a paragraph suggesting Rowena Ravenclaw created duplicate diadems to keep it out of the wrong hands. This whole book is a duplicate of my personal copy. I’ve notes throughout. On this fabricated paragraph I’ve noted, simply, ‘clever’.”

She tapped the next book, a slim volume. “This is my personal notes on the Hogwarts founders. In it, I have created a suspicion about the real diadem’s whereabouts. It’s dated a decade before we found out what actually happened to it. This third book,” she tapped the largest tome of them. “Is a transcription of the personal notes and diaries of Rowena Ravenclaw. This one is key and is completely fabricated. In it our false Rowena Ravenclaw writes about the diadem without naming it. She writes about concerns her daughter might steal it. And she writes about creating several duplicates. This suggests the Grey Lady stole a fake. That the item figuring so prominently in Mr. Potter’s story wasn’t Ravenclaw’s actual diadem.

“If your Mr. Quillon is to find a time and place to steal the actual diadem, we want him to take it before the Grey Lady did, from Ravenclaw Tower itself. From her personal library. The way you’ve described him, I assume he likes to feel clever. Which means he’s more likely to believe our deception if he thinks he’s figured something out. I’ve marked all the pertinent passages.

“You know, of course, this must remain a secret between us. I cannot have it getting out I’ve falsified records. It would ruin my reputation.”

Dor nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Here. I have something for you. It’s not magical, just practical.” Madam Pince opened a drawer in her desk and lifted out a leather satchel. “It’s a bookbag. I thought you might find it useful in your travels.” She put the books in the bag, then put the strap over Dor’s head so it rested on her left shoulder and her right hip.

Dor’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you, Madam Pince.” She hugged the old librarian firmly.

“Oh.” Madam Pince said. “I…” She patted Dor’s head. “You’re most welcome.”

After a quiet lunch in a mostly empty great hall, Dor returned to the second year dormitory of Hufflepuff basement.

Dor folded her Hogwarts uniform clothes and packed them in her new magical laundry bag. She found that, even full, once the drawstring was pulled, she could fold the bag to the size of a handkerchief. She tucked it into her new bookbag on top of her wand in its holster. She got dressed in the beige clothes Mr. Quillon had given her and made sure the falsified texts were all in her bookbag.

Closing her eyes, she pictured the room in her mind and the door on the far end. Her spellbook was open on the table and she touched the blue-bordered [Pince’s Catalogue]. Immediately, her mind focused. With a thought, the door opened and she walked confidently down the book-lined corridor, concentrating on Mr. Quillon’s Infinite Library.

Chapter Text

The book-lined hallway in the room in her mind stretched into forever. She walked steadily and focused her mind on the Infinite Library, its careful sameness, its bland coloring, its gently curving hallways. A hall opened on her left and she recognized it. She turned to walk down the hall and felt a tingling pop along her shoulders, confirmation she’d walked between planes.

Her mind was still calm and ordered from casting [Pince’s Catalogue], so when she looked up and down the curved hallway, she knew immediately which way was toward the large, circular room. The halls were silent but for a faint hiss of air, empty but for her.

When she entered the large room, she half expected to find Mr. Quillon sitting in the center of his circular desk, waiting for her, but there was no one. As far as she could tell there was no way to determine between one of the twelve hallways and any of the others leading from that central room in their gentle curves, but with her thoughts still ordered by [Pince’s Catalogue], it was easy to find her way.

In short order, she was climbing the stairs to the dormitory. She was nearly to the top when a familiar sound cut through the silence. The swish-crack of a thin bit of wood on a bare backside. Someone squealed in pain. Dor’s heart leapt and her body froze. Instinctively she reached for the room in her mind and escape, but stopped herself. She was a practiced duelist now. She could take care of herself, and she had a goal to accomplish. Forcibly unclenching her teeth, Dor climbed the stairs and entered the common room.

She found a scene to make her swallow back bile.

A girl was bent over the arm of one of the plain beige couches of the common room. She was nude from tip to toe, though Dor only had a good look at her backside. Her lower back, bottom, hips, and thighs were all mottled with bruises of varying age and intensity. And over the top of those bruises was a vivid, angry, crosshatch of cruel weals from a sturdy rod.

Behind and to the side of the beaten girl stood Mr. Quillon. His plain, button up shirt was undone at the top, the sleeves rolled up, tail untucked. His long hair was pulled back but loose. Even the hair of his beard was wild and askew. His expression, however, remained calm, though firmly displeased. The rod he held in a white-knuckled fist was three feet of pale yellow wood, at least a thumb’s width. The handle was stained a deep dark red and was long enough to be held two-handed.

As Dor watched, Mr. Quillon raised his rod high above his shoulder and swung as though he wanted to drive it through the body of his victim. The girl squealed again, high and ragged, silent, breath-stealing sobs shaking her body in the aftermath.

Somebody else chocked back a hiccoughing sob and Dor realized there were others in the room. Three girls grouped off to one side, watching. Dor recognized Jill Hook, the girl who’d shown her around the dormitory, who’d laughed when Dor had blasted Elmira with [Jubilee’s Dazzler]. She stood tall, grim, and still, her long brown hair braided tightly. The other two she didn’t recognize. One was a round girl with raven curls and a small, cruel smile. The third was short and young, she had light eyes and olive skin. She looked vaguely familiar, though Dor couldn’t place her. All three wore the same beige uniform of button up shirt, pleated skirt, and knee-high stockings, that Dor did.

Mr. Quillon raised the rod again, and Dor spoke up.

“Mr. Quillon?”

His head turned to face her slowly, arm still raised. After several moments more, his body shifted also. Slowly, as though it took effort, he lowered his arm.

“And where have you been?”

“I…” Dor’s glance flicked from Mr. Quillon to the beaten girl and back. “I was at Hogwarts. I was doing what you asked me to, researching Ravneclaw’s Diadem.”

He took a step toward her and Dor took a step back down the stairs.

“For three and a half months?”

“Well… yes.” Dor nodded. “The… Madam Pince read your letter and… well I had to do a lot of research myself… and…” Dor dug frantically in to her bookbag and withdrew the books. “Here. This is what we found.”

Mr. Quillon licked his lips. He looked at the books, expression shifting from firm to interested. “How certain are you of these documents?”

“I’m certain I found them in the Hogwarts library. I’m not quite sure what they mean, but Madam Pince seemed to think this is what you were looking for.”

Mr. Quillon whipped his rod in a tight circle so it tucked under his arm. It cut through the air with a swish that made Dor jump. He held out his hands and Dor put the books in them.

“Very well. Come with me, Ms. Dorothy.” He pushed past her and strode down the stairs. Dor watched him go, stunned. She felt like she was made of stone, her mind frozen. She had expected Mr. Quillon to be skeptical. She had expected to have to explain herself. She had even expected she might fail. She hadn’t expected the scene that greeted her. She was about to follow him when she remembered the beaten girl.

Slowly, Dor turned to face the common room again. The girls who’d been watching looked at her now. Unable to meet their collective gaze, she looked at the beaten girl, still draped over the couch arm. For all of Sister Mary Margaret’s cruelty, she’d never done that. Magic tingled along her shoulders and she reached into her bag for her wand. She stepped up to the girl, letting [Minwu’s Cura] drift through her mind, and touched her wand to the girl’s back. The girl was sobbing, choking back the sound, shuddering, and when Dor’s wand touched her, she twitched and whimpered. Pale blue light rippled across the girl’s body. Bruises faded, weals receded, in moments, all marks of violence were gone.

Dor took a step back. The girl straightened, breathing hard. She turned to face Dor, cheeks red, expression relieved. It was Elmira Gulch. Her wavy brown hair had been cut short and was slicked back to her head with sweat. Her brown eyes were wide and red-rimmed. Her cheeks were flush. There was none of the fury or malice Dor was used to seeing. For several moments, Elmira looked like a scared, tired little girl. Then her lips twisted into a snarl and her brown eyes shifted to sullen orange.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Elmira demanded.

“I was in the castle,” said Dor. “Like I was supposed to be. Where were you?”

Elmira scoffed. “I was that shithole town outside the castle. I could see it, but I could never get close, no matter what I did. People started asking questions, so I skipped town and tried to hide, but…” she cleared her throat to disguise a sob and shrugged. She crossed her arms in front of her chest awkwardly, as though just remembering she was nude. “But there’s no hiding from the boss.” She glanced at the trio of girls still watching. “Isn’t that right?”

Jill Hook shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.”

The round girl giggled, her tone high and flighty.

Elmira turned to face them, hands igniting. “Laugh like that again, bitch.”

The third girl, the one Dor thought looked vaguely familiar, scurried away and down the hall.

“Easy now,” said Dor. “He’s gone. No one here is going to hurt you.” She reached out an imploring hand.

Elmira turned her fury back on Dor. Dor gripped her wand a little tighter.

“You think I’m afraid of him? You think I’m afraid of you? He’s pissed because he thought I’d lost you. He’s pissed because you were hiding all safe and warm in that castle the last few months and I was wandering around back alleyways trying to figure out how to get to you.”

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know he was hurting you. I was trying to complete the mission.”

Elmira sighed. The fire in her hands went out, but the glowing orange anger in her eyes remained. “Whatever. He got what he wanted.” She stalked away, down the hall to the dormroom.

Dor gave a sigh of relief.

Jill Hook watched Elmira go, then scoffed. “Welcome back,” she said to Dor before following Elmira.

“That was quite the show, wasn’t it?” said the round girl with curly black hair. Her voice was high, prim, and proper. “I’m Queenie Heart. And you, you’re the other new girl. It’s absolutely delicious to meet you. Elmira hates you, you know.”

Dor nodded. “That has been made clear.”

“She didn’t even thank you for healing her. How terribly rude.” Though Queenie’s words were sincere, her tone held an edge of sarcasm, her expression a hint of mocking. “Of course, Mr. Quillon has never beaten me. I’m his favorite. Speaking of which, didn’t he tell you to go with him?”

Dor’s heart leapt. She spun and fled down the stairs, chased by Queenie’s girlish giggles.

In the large, round room, she found Mr. Quillon coming up the stairs in the center of his circular desk. He wore rugged, worn, faded grey pants, a plain beige shirt, and a sturdy leather jacket. He wore a shoulder bag, not unlike her own, but worn from use. In his right hand, he carried the rod with which he’d beaten Elmira.

“Ms. Dorothy. There you are.” Mr. Quillon smiled at her.

Dor couldn’t help a shiver of fear.

“Turns out your efforts were not wasted. It’s almost too easy.” He grinned, exuberant. “The estimable Hogwartian librarian has evidence to suggest the item I require was not, in fact, the one stolen by Ravenclaw’s daughter and perverted by Tom Riddle. Instead, it was a fake that played a role in stories, removing paradox from the equation. In short, Ms. Dorothy, we can recover the real diadem from the prime Wizarding World universe.”

“We?” said Dor.

Mr. Quillon ignored her. He withdrew from the coat of his pocket a small silvery box with a blue button. “I’ve calibrated the portal to take us to Ravenclaw Tower. After Ms. Gulch’s inability to teleport into the castle itself, I realized the school’s defenses were better than anticipated. Fortunately for us, I’ve been studying every permutation of that castle for decades now.”

His grin wide, Mr. Quillon tapped the tip of his rod against the floor, like a walking stick, then gestured for her to join him within the circular desk. Dor hesitated a moment. She didn’t know where the section that lifted was, but she’d already made him wait, even if he didn’t seem to care, and she didn’t want to give him any reason to shift his grip on that rod. She hurried to the edge of the desk, lifted herself on to it, then scooched her butt across to land her feet on the other side.

“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” Dor asked, certain she’d rather not.

“Of course!” He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I knew you were special. Not like the others. I had a feeling about you, Ms. Dorothy. That’s why I didn’t harvest your spark.”

“Harvest?”

“You’ll come with me, of course, to witness my triumph, my escape from this dreadful mindcage.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dor said, wishing he’d release her. He still clutched his rod in the hand of the arm holding her close.

“I’m a prisoner, Ms. Dorothy, imprisoned within a mindcage that became this, the Infinite Library, where I could read every story there ever was, could, or will be. What my jailers didn’t count on was me learning how to harvest planeswalker sparks.”

He thrust out the hand holding the silvery metal box.

“It’s amazing what you can learn when you have access to every bit of every story of every Multiverse. It’s not unlike what Memnarch tried with Mirrodin. But rather than subsume the spark myself, I’ve managed to embed it in a device. They run out of course, but there are always new sparks to harvest.”

“But you didn’t harvest mine,” said Dor.

“Well of course not, Ms. Dorothy. You’re my favorite.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You’re clever. You can learn. And I knew from the moment of that glitch, you would be the one to lead me to the diadem.”

He pressed the button and a vertical slit of light appeared before them, growing until it was seven feet tall, then slowly twisting into a doorway of shining light.

He shoved her toward the light and she stumbled through.

Chapter Text

The teeth-itching discomfort of stepping through the portal grated at her shoulders and made her long for the Hogwarts baths. She took a breath and looked around. They were in a large circular room, every bit of wallspace taken up with bookshelves, each book meticulously placed and labeled.

Mr. Quillon stepped through the portal after her and took her right arm in hand, just under the armpit. His grip was firm. “Come along, Ms. Dorothy. If they’re paying attention, it won’t be long before they realize I’ve escaped the mindcage. Assuming I’ve deciphered Madam Ravenclaw’s journals correctly, she’s hidden the real diadem in a secret compartment in this room, her private library, while leaving a fake for her daughter to find in her sleeping chamber. What a fool the Grey Lady was.” 

Dor bit her tongue. She wanted to lash out, to jerk away, to tell him he was the fool, but if this was to work, she had to remain cowed.

“We must be careful,” Mr. Quillon said. “If anyone suspects that anybody has been in Ravenclaw’s private library, much less stolen the real diadem, the Infinite Library will react to protect causality, likely by erasing us. I’ve seen it, and it’s not pretty. So, caution, Ms. Dorothy.”

“How do we know where it is?” Dor asked.

“We look,” said Mr. Quillon. “You’re nearly as clever as I am. Between the two of us we should be able to figure it out. But again, be careful. Nothing must be out of place.”

Dor nodded and swallowed.

It seemed an inordinate risk for Mr. Quillon. Not only to leave the Infinite Library when he thought he might be perused, but to trust her to help him steal the diadem. He barely knew her. Why did he trust her?

But of course, she reminded herself, he’s been watching me. He knows how I cringe when someone raises their voice at me. How I do what I’m told when I’m given a stern look. How I’m afraid to be spanked. He thinks I’ll do what I’m told because that’s what I’ve always done. Because he’s in charge and I’m not. Because I saw him cane Elmira’s bare backside. And what’s more, he’s right. Or at least, he was. That’s how I’ve always behaved. But I want to be stronger, braver, better.

Her plan relied on Mr. Quillon finding the diadem before Ravenclaw’s daughter. To take it, to create paradox within this universe, and to let the Infinite Library free her of him. Which meant she had to help him find it. She had to trap him in paradox.

Not knowing what else to do. She walked to the bookshelves and walked around the room counter clockwise, letting her fingers brush the bookspines at waist level, as she had in the library in her mind. After several steps, a dozen heartbeats, she felt that tingle at her shoulders and knew she was close. This library resonated with her. She felt as comfortable here as she had in Madam Pince’s library.

Her whole body snapped with a tingle and she stopped, her eyes immediately finding the bookspine that had caught her attention. It was leather, dyed a deep purple, and stamped with golden lettering. Riddles of the Ultrasphinx. Certain without knowing how, Dor pulled the book from the shelf. It was a slim volume, but it felt heavy in her hands. It reminded her of the playing cards of her mental grimoire. There was more to this book than paper and ink.

“Mr. Quillon?” She opened the book to the first page upon which was written:

What happens when the Unstoppable Force meets the Immovable Object?

Dor pursed her lips, considering.

It was presented as a riddle, but Dor immediately wondered if it was a parable. It asked what happened when they met, not when the one struck the other. Which implied, perhaps, that the Unstoppable Force and Immovable Object might be entities. People with goals and desires who’d come into conflict with one another.

Mr. Quillon came up beside her and looked over her shoulder. “What do you mean?” He snapped. “Why would this book,” he plucked it from her hands, “have anything more to do with the diadem than any other?” He flipped through the pages, snapped it shut, and turned it over.

Dor hunched and stepped back even as her mind continued to work. She imagined the Unstoppable Force, with a goal in front of her. Then imagined the Immovable Object standing in her way. There could be a fight, but then what? Who would win? Would either achieve their goal? Or was there another way? A way to achieve their goals without striking each other. What if they…

“They Yield,” she said aloud.

The bookshelf in front of her did not move, but somehow there was a small cabinet where there had been none before. Perhaps her eyes had simply slid over it before. Perhaps it had been in otherdimensional space. Perhaps it had hid by some magic Ravenclaw had developed. The answer of it tickled at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. 

“They yield? Why? That…” Mr. Quillon’s eyes lit upon the cupboard. He smiled. “Well, I don’t know how you did it, Ms. Dorothy, but I’m impressed. When this is done, I think I’ll keep you.”

Dor swallowed hard and cringed away. She hated that she did it. She wished she’d done it on purpose, to bolster what he thought of her, but deep down she was still little more than a frightened girl.

The cabinet opened easily and within rested the silver diadem set with a large blue stone at its center and bearing the inscription: Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure. If Madam Pince was correct, this was the real diadem of Ravenclaw. If Mr. Quillon was correct, it was from the prime universe. And if Dor was lucky, him taking it would trap him in paradox.

Mr. Quillon grabbed her arm and pulled her up to the cabinet. “Take it,” he ordered.

“Me? But I thought…”

Mr. Quillon popped her bottom with the flat of his hand. It wasn’t a hard spank. It barely stung through her clothes. And yet, it sprang tears to her eyes.

“Do I need to take you over my knee?”

Dor shook her head quickly. Hands trembling, she did as she was told, fearing at any moment the Infinite Library would strike her down. But when she touched the diadem, she felt only the cool of the silver against her fingers. She withdrew it from the cabinet and held it out to Mr. Quillon who backed up several steps. He looked around, hesitating for several moments, as though waiting for something to happen. But when nothing did, he broke into a manic grin and snatched the diadem from her fingers.

For a moment, and then another, Dor’s heart plummeted through a terrifying void. She’d failed. Perhaps Madam Pince had been wrong. Perhaps this wasn’t the prime realm. Perhaps any number of other things had gone wrong and now she’d given Mr. Quillon the very tool he needed. Then she felt a tremor in her shoulders, like a million books falling from their shelves all at once. She put her hands behind her back and took several steps back.

…if the diadem is stolen by Quillon here, now, then the Ravenclaw’s daughter can’t steal it later, hide it in a forest, and reveal its location to Tom Riddle; If Tom never…

Mr. Quillon laughed cautiously. He put the diadem over his head and slowly lowered it.

Dor’s back met the books and eased into them, as though they gave way for her. As though she might push herself though them into a hidden passageway. The wall of books felt more like the surface of a bath, an ancient bit of parchment, the shifting sands of the Multiverse, rippling and unstable.

… Tom never turns it into a horcrux, it plays no part in Harry Potter’s story; if it plays no part in Harry’s story, then there’s no reason for Quillon to steal it here and now, Ravenclaw’s daughter…

Mr. Quillon put the diadem upon his head, expression ecstatic.

Dor fell backward through the wall of books, landing hard on her butt. Wincing, she looked up at the man but her attention was immediately drawn to the shifting reality behind him. The books of Rowena Ravenclaw’s private library tumbled from their shelves, stacking themselves into the vague shape of a humanoid torso with great hulking arms and a cavernous, shadowed space where a face might go. A pair of blue lights flickered open, like the eyes of causality burning through the paradox she’d created.

…so Ravenclaw’s daughter does steal it, Tom does turn it into a horcrux, it does play a part in Harry’s story and Quillon steals it here and…

Her shoulders twinged painfully and a blue-bordered playing card floated through her mind.

Animate Library                                 

Cost:    4UU

Type:    Tribal Enchantment – Librarian Aura

Text:     Enchant your library

Enchanted library is an artifact creature on the battlefield with power and toughness each equal to the number of cards in it. It’s still a library.

If enchanted library would leave the battlefield, exile this card instead.

Dor scrambled backward and up to her feet, chest hammering tightly against the fear. The creature made of books loomed over Mr. Quillon but he’d yet to notice. He was staring through to nowhere, expression intent. The creature of books raised its hands above Mr. Quillon’s head.

“Yes. Of course. It’s so simple. I…” Then he blinked and turned to face the creature. He had bare a chance to start before the creature brought its hand upon him, obliterating him into motes of light and nothing.

Dor took several steps back.

The book elemental fixed its eyes upon her. And though it had no legs, it moved toward her, the books opening and closing, pages fluttering, spines creaking.

Dor turned and fled.

Chapter Text

Dor sprinted through the book-lined hallway in her mind. A sharp crack at her shoulders told her she'd left the Wizarding World, hurtling now through L-Space. Behind her the elemental of books and causality, soul of the Infinite Library, roared, a sound like falling books and shredding paper and whispered admonition.

She chanced a look back. The elemental had grown taller and wider, too big for the narrow mental hallway through which she ran. Its shoulders brushed the shelves, dislodging books, some of which slotted between others in the creature, adding to it.

Dor reached, desperate for help, through L-Space. At first, she reached for her friends: Jubilee or Twilight Sparkle, Minwu or Kya, Isabel or Madam Pince, but immediately thought better of it. That creature had smote Mr. Quillon in a blink and she didn't want to bring it down upon anyone else. So instead she reached, just reached, as far as she could through L-Space, with that tingle along her shoulders, to somewhere away, somewhere without books.

The creature roared again.

Dor stumbled and tripped. Reflexively, she reached to catch herself. Her ears popped and her shoulders stung and a vivid pink light filled her vision. Her knee cracked upon a stone ledge and pain shot up and down her leg, bright fire tearing breath from her body. Dor pitched forward, certain she was about to meet stone with her bare palms. Instead, she tumbled into water. The water wasn't deep and, after a few desperate moments, Dor got her feet under her. She stood, sputtering, to find herself waist deep in a large stone fountain. At the center of the fountain stood a stone statue of a large woman with a mass of curly hair. The fountain was fed by the stone woman's tears.

Dor caught herself staring. Even though she was just stone, the woman was beautiful, with motherly proportions and serene expression. The sight of the statue sent a shiver though her and Dor realized she didn't hurt. She looked at her knee which, moments ago, had pierced with pain, but found no hint of damage. The water was cool but not cold and tingled faintly on her skin even as it soaked her through.

Dor went to the edge of the fountain and the stone ledge upon which she'd banged her knee. The stone was polished smooth. She pulled herself up to sit on the ledge and swiveled about to put her feet on the flagstones of the courtyard at which the fountain was centered. All around the courtyard was a massive tangle of bushes blooming with bright pink roses. The scent of the flowers perfumed the air, gentle but noticeable.

Dor gathered up her auburn braids and wrung the water from them. She was about to reach through the Multiverse again, certain the book elemental wasn't finished chasing her, when she heard a voice.

"Is that a human in the fountain? How did it even get into the garden?" The voice was high, slightly nasal.

Dor looked around and found an arched entry on the far side of the courtyard where stood a pair of women. One was tall, at least seven feet. She had broad shoulders and hips and a full bosom. Her hair was thick and pink and fell about her shoulders in curls. She was obviously the same woman depicted in the stone statue at the center of the fountain.

"Don't worry," said the shorter of the two, the same who'd gotten Dor's attention. "I'll get rid of it." She was shorter, but still taller than Dor, and slim with pointed features, blue eyes, and pale skin. She marched toward Dor with firm intent.

"Pearl. Wait." The large woman with pink hair put a hand on the slim woman's shoulder. The slim woman, Pearl, stopped immediately.

Dor blinked at them, hesitating. She couldn't stay, but she felt she at least owed them an explanation as to why she was in their garden.

The large one with pink hair approached, Pearl keeping just a pace behind. Her pale pink and white skirts rustled gently as she walked. Dor could see her feet were bare. Most curiously, there was a star-shaped cutout of her dress centered on her navel, and there was set a bright pink, faceted gemstone.

"It's all right," said the pink-haired woman. "We're not going to hurt you." She put a hand to her voluptuous chest. "I'm Rose Quartz. And this is Pearl. What's your name?"

"Dor."

Rose Quartz chuckled. "Really? That's a strange name for a human."

"It's short for Dorothy." Dor said quickly. "I sincerely apologize for invading your garden. I didn't mean to."

"It shouldn't be possible," said Pearl, tone accusatory.

Dor looked at the slim woman. From afar she'd looked delicate, like a toy ballerina in a pale blue leotard, pink leggings, and a frilly sort of shawl. But up close there was a strength about her. She had a yellow star upon her chest, much like the cutout at Rose Quartz' navel. It reminded Dor of a heraldic symbol. And in the slim woman’s forehead was embedded a smooth, shiny pearl.

Dor felt a tremble along her shoulders, like the heavy footsteps of a giant made of tomes. She smelled the faint dust of books long forgotten. She cleared her throat nervously. "I should be going."

"Excellent," said Pearl.

"Must you?" said Rose Quartz. "Are you in a hurry?"

Dor nodded. "I'm not from this world. And there's something—"

Rose Quartz stood up straighter, expression startled. Pearl took a step back and the gem at her forehead glowed faintly.

"Not from this world? But you are a human, aren't you?" asked Rose Quartz.

Dor nodded. “I'm being pursued by a monster, and I don't want you to get caught up in…”

"A monster?" said Pearl. Her expression turned hard and determined. She looked up at Rose Quartz who looked down at her. "We can't let it hurt a human."

Rose Quartz gave Pearl a small nod and a faint grin then looked at Dor. "We can talk about how you got into my magically sealed garden sanctuary later. For now, you should stay with us. We have a lot of experience protecting humans from monsters.”

"Oh," said Dor. "But I..."

"Just stay hidden," said Pearl. "We will protect you."

Dor's thoughts fluttered and shook. "No, no it's... It's coming for me. I..."

Pearl put her hands at her forehead, cupping the gemstone which shone brightly. A shape took form from the light, resolving into a massive, bright pink scabbard embossed with a rose emblem, which dropped into Pearl's hands. She held it out to Rose Quartz. In Rose Quartz' hands, the sword seemed right, like it was made specifically for her. Rose Quartz drew the blade in a quick motion and tossed the scabbard aside. She put her hand to her own bright pink gemstone at her navel. It glowed and a moment later a shield of light with that same rose emblem at its center was affixed to her left arm.

When Dor had first seen the tall, pink-haired woman only minutes ago, she'd thought her beautiful, motherly. Now she was a proud, confident warrior. Dor would never have conflated the two before now.

Pearl put her hands to her forehead gemstone again and this time withdrew a pair of long, slim swords with curving guards and bright blades. She held them one in each hand and took a balanced stance, reminding Dor of Kya preparing to waterbend.

Dor tried to object. To tell them they needn't protect her, that she should run, but she felt the animate library charging down the corridors of her mind, pursuing her even to this place where there were no books. It wasn't a planeswalker she knew. It was a sort of elemental, a creature composed of the Infinite Library's abhorrence for paradox, and for the creator of that paradox. It was coming to erase her. It was coming for her because it was tied to her, anchored to her mind.

There was no escaping it. She couldn't run forever, which meant she had to face it.

A piercing headache struck through from her right temple to her left. For a moment there was nothing else. For a moment she knew nothing but that pain. It drove every other thought and sensation from her, and that moment stretched into forever until it broke, shattering. A rippling whorl of space and thought coalesced at the far side of the garden courtyard.

Rose Quartz and Pearl turned to face it, Rose with shield up and sword high, Pearl just in front as though she were the tall, pink-haired woman's bodyguard.

The rippling of space and flapping of pages resolved into a giant composed of books, the bright blue points of light that were its eyes focusing upon Dor.

"It's made of books?" said Pearl. "I've never seen anything like this."

"There must be a corrupted gem in there somewhere," said Rose Quartz. "Much as it pains me, we'll have to tear apart the books to get to it. I'll draw its attention. You flank it."

Pearl gave a curt nod.

Rose Quartz launched herself at the book elemental, flashing through the space between with dizzying speed and a gleeful warcry. She slashed her massive sword at the creature of books, cutting through it like water. The creature roared in a rain of tattered covers, shredded paper, and ancient dust. Rose Quartz took a step back, put her sword low and raised her shield, bracing herself with a low, solid stance just as the book elemental brought a fist down. Dor whimpered and winced, fearing what had happened to Quillon would happen to this giant warrior. But the fist rang like a bell against the pink shield of light.

Suddenly, the thin, pale woman, Pearl, leapt in from the creature's left and just behind. She landed on its shoulder and swept her dual swords through its neck. The creature roared again. Another spray of dust and torn paper scattered through the air. As the book elemental swatted at the lithe woman, Pearl leapt away and Rose Quartz thrust hard, taking it in the middle as Pearl landed behind her with a grace far exceeding that of any human.

"It's not disintegrating!" Pearl shouted.

Dor felt a tingle along her shoulders. She wanted to help, she wanted to fight back. She wanted to never feel helpless again. Cursing her slowness while marveling at the way Rose Quartz and Pearl leapt so effortlessly into action, Dor reached into her new bookbag and withdrew her wand. Despite her thorough dunking in the fountain, the interior of the bag was dry and her wand was warm in her hand.

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and...

In the room in her mind, bookshelves lined every wall, full and neatly organized. In one corner of the room sat the comfy chair with a black and yellow quilt folded neatly upon it. In the center of the room was her study table. On the other side of the table, a narrow door interrupted the bookshelves. And on the center of the table was the book of pocket pages, her spell book, her grimoire.

At a thought, the grimoire opened to show her spells, first white, then blue:

[Harry's Expelliarmus]

[Jubilee's Dazzler]

[Minwu's Cura]

[Minwu's Lifa]

[Twilight's Blink]

[Kya's Waterbending]

[Pince's Catalogue]

All seven of her spells were curative or defensive. The book elemental held no weapons, so [Harry's Expelliarmus] was no help. [Jubilee's Dazzler] might work if those points of light really were eyes. Her only mildly offensive spell was [Kya's Waterbending], but the only water about was from the fountain and she was reasonably certain that was healing water. She wasn't about to douse the book elemental in healing water.

What she needed just now was a way to fight back. An offensive spell like...

A pair of red-bordered cards flitted through her mind. They were familiar. They made her heart race with panic. She'd seen them before. On a rooftop in New York City, on a narrow street in Republic City. She grasped for them, but felt her shoulders clench.

...Dor let out the breath and opened her eyes, wand at the ready.

"Pearl! It's time to introduce this monster to Rainbow Quartz!"

With a mighty kick, Rose Quartz sent the monster staggering, making room for herself and Pearl to stand side by side. The magic at Dor's neck tingled and sizzled, warm and exciting.

Pearl raised her arms above her head and pirouetted, graceful and deadly, swords still in hand. Rose Quartz dismissed her shield in a flash of light, lifted her skirts, and sashayed toward Pearl, wide hips swaying. Pearl spun into Rose Quartz' arms, the larger woman cradling the smaller in a tender embrace. The two were as elegant in dance as they were fearsome in battle.

Dor's cheeks grew warm and the tingle at her neck spread to her shoulders and down her spine.

Red-bordered cards...

Rose Quartz and Pearl glowed as the book elemental recovered and lumbered for them. Rose pulled Pearl in tight and the glow intensified until, in less than a moment, the glow became a flash and where had stood two warrior women, now there was one.

Rainbow Quartz was nearly twice as tall as Rose Quartz with long, flowing hair like a pastel rainbow, reminding Dor of Princess Celestia on Equestria. She was tall and lithe and she held in one hand Rose Quartz's immense blade and in the other one of Pearl's smaller, slimmer blades. Rainbow Quartz drew herself to her full height and turned her profile to the book elemental, Rose's sword held horizontal, Pearl's sword held at her back, as though hiding it.

Dor's body suffused with a tingle she didn't have a moment to examine, for the creature of books attacked again. Rainbow Quartz took a shuffling step backward and the pink shield of light manifested, hanging upon magic, to deflect the blow. The creature roared with all the fury of a librarian and swung again. Rainbow Quartz darted to the side and thrust with her pink blade, catching the creature upon its torso. She was at least as tall as the book elemental now, and the two engaged in combat, Rainbow Quartz lithe and graceful, the book elemental ponderous but powerful.

Dor took another breath as all around her scraps of torn paper swirled. The tingle at her shoulders exploded in her mind and she saw red.

A pair of red-bordered playing cards invaded her vision and she closed her eyes to see again the room in her mind. Her grimoire was open, and two new cards, two cards she'd seen before, two cards that made her tingle uncomfortably, had taken their places after the blue-bordered:

[Elmira’s Javelin]

[Elmira’s Whip]

In the first, Elmira hurled a flame at an unseen target, hair wild, sparks trailing from her shoulders in a delicate, deadly dance. In the second, Elmira stood upon a graveled surface, backdrop dark, highlighting the curling whip of fire she grasped in one hand, eyes bright orange, grin manic.

Dor swallowed hard and peered at her grimoire, the first nine-pocket page now full with nine cards, nine spells. It felt right, it felt complete, it felt like power at her fingertips, power to fight back, power to protect herself. Even with the cruel girl who'd pursued her across the Multiverse depicted on those red cards.

Dor opened her eyes, summoned the power within and pictured the red-bordered [Elmira’s Javelin]. It was warm in her mind, and powerful, waiting to be let out, wanting to be cast. She took a stance learned from Kya. She imagined standing in Professor Sparkle's classroom. She felt the power swell within her. And when Rainbow Quartz struck with her large pink blade, spun to strike again with the slimmer, then danced back, Dor took a step forward and thrust with her wand.

The spear of flame arced at the creature, crashing into its shoulder with a roar of fire and wave of heat. The book elemental staggered. It hurt Dor's heart to see books burning, to smell the ash, and she had to remind herself this was a creature of paradox and causality and was trying to erase her from existence.

Rainbow Quartz looked back at her, stunned, then smiled broadly, two sets of eyes, blue set atop black, wide with approval.

Dor took several steps back trying to breathe carefully as billowing black smoke gushed into the air. The smell of burning books clogged her face and hurt her heart. But still the creature made for her. Rainbow Quartz thrust her hand out and a massive shield of pink like burst into existence, knocking the book elemental back.

Dor reached again for [Elmira’s Javelin] in her mind and as soon as the shield of light dissipated, she took a step forward and thrust with her wand. She imagined Professor Sparkle lecturing about proper footwork and solid grip. The flame javelin took the book elemental low on its left side. It staggered for several steps, losing its balance and falling to its knees. Rainbow Quartz took the opportunity. She leapt and came down in a strong, overhand strike with the great pink-handled blade. If it’d been any sort of regular creature, shed had decapitated it. As it was, she sprayed dust and ash, paper and leather swirling through the courtyard.

The creature roared again, pushing to its feet, knocking rainbow Quartz back. Even stumbling the giant woman was elegant and she regained her footing quickly, but the book elemental charged at Dor and the girl didn’t know if the giant woman would be able to protect her, so she cast the fire spell again. The tingle along her shoulders, up and down her spine, filling the base of her skull, snapped hard and she felt hot all over, a stinging heat like an open palm against a naked bottom. She felt faint for a moment and thought the spell wouldn’t resolve, then it ripped from her and she knew she’d quite nearly exhausted herself of mana.

The gout of flame struck the creature square in its face.

Smoke and ash and dust billowed from the creature, coating Dor in a greasy film. She staggered way, coughing, wiping at her face as tears streamed from her eyes. She felt frail as a sheet of paper, parched and tremulous.

In a gentle flash of light, Rainbow Quartz unfused, Rose Quartz and Pearl once again.

Rose Quartz approached Dor with a wide smile.

"A human with magic! I didn't think such a thing was possible! But, of course, you said you're not from this world. Do all humans on your world have magic?"

Dor wiped at her cheeks and shook her head. "I..." She sighed. "It's kind of a long story." Her voice felt thin and tremulous. Mr. Quillon was gone. The book elemental was gone. There was no one after her and the Multiverse was no further than the room in her mind. She could see Twilight Sparkle and Jubilee and Minwu and apologize for leaving so abruptly. She could see her fellow Hufflepuffs and Madam Pince. She could see Kya...

"Oh, why are you crying? The monster's gone, it's all right," Rose Quartz said, voice low and gentle.

Dor nodded.

"Rose, I can't find it," Pearl said. "I don't think this monster was a corrupted gem."

Rose Quartz knelt next to Dor. "Can you explain this?" she asked gently.

Do nodded again. She took a breath, but it was shaky. She tried to clear her throat but that only encouraged the sobs. Next thing she knew she was crying uncontrollably, and no matter how she chided herself for being weak, especially in front of these women who were so strong, elegant, and adept, she couldn't make herself stop. Next thing she knew, Rose Quartz had scooped her into her large arms. They were broad and soft, but with an undeniable strength. The woman smelled faintly of roses.

"You're bringing her with us?" said Pearl, incredulous.

"She knows about the monster," said Rose Quartz. "Besides, she's clearly distraught."

Pearl sighed. "Well, yes." Her tone turned gentle. "I suppose there is that."

Embarrassed, Dor closed her eyes and let herself cry into Rose Quartz’ shoulder. A short walk later, they stopped and Dor opened her eyes long enough to see another small courtyard hemmed by rosebushes. Then they were enveloped in a blueish-white light and gravity left them. Dor closed her eyes again.

When they landed, Dor looked again, tears subsiding. 

"Do you want me to put you down?" Rose Quartz asked.

Dor nodded. "Yes, please."

Rose Quartz set Dor carefully upon her feet, as though handling a delicate figurine. Dor looked around to find they were in a shallow cave with a peculiar door in the back wall before a circular crystalline pad.

"Are you ready to tell me about yourself?" Rose Quartz asked.

Dor took a breath and did not feel like she was about to cry. "I am."

Rose Quartz led Dor down out of the cave to a sandy beach where the ocean lapped gently, a velvet night under jeweled stars overhead. Dor had never seen the ocean before, never smelled its salt air. It was remarkably beautiful. Pearl joined them, close enough to be near, but giving them some space for privacy. Dor wondered if the thin woman really was the larger woman's bodyguard.

"That monster wasn't from this world any more than I am," Dor said. She started at the beginning, and when she was done, she was crying again, of relief she realized.

"That's quite a story," said Rose Quartz.

"I suppose you don't believe me?"

The large woman shrugged. "I've got my own story of traveling between worlds. Gems aren't from Earth."

Dor nodded. Another planet named Earth, another set of super-powered beings. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Rose Quartz sighed. "Another time maybe."

On the horizon, over the ocean, the sky lightened. Morning was coming. Dor's stomach grumbled. Rose Quartz laughed.

"I suppose you're hungry?"

Dor nodded, sheepish.

Rose Quartz turned to Pearl, still nearby. "Do you have any human money?"

Pearl cupped her hands around the gemstone in her forehead. It glowed and a black leather wallet materialized from the light. She handed it to Dor. "Here you are. There are thirty-two ones, sixteen threes, twenty-three tens, and five twenties. That's four-hundred-ten United States dollars. I'm sure that will be enough for breakfast. I understand the humans of this city enjoy an establishment called The Big Donut." Her expression was sympathetic.

Dor took the wallet. It seemed like an overwhelming amount of money to give to a stranger, but perhaps money was different on this version of Earth. "Thank you."

"Rose, the others are ready. We really do need to be going," Pearl said.

"Right." Rose Quartz turned to Dor. "It was a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for sharing your story."

"Thank you for saving my existence."

Rose Quartz grinned. "It's what Crystal Gems do." She gestured at the hill with its mysterious cave. "On the other side is Beach City. If you go around that way, you'll find The Big Donut. They should be open soon. They'll sell you a delicious breakfast." She patted Dor's shoulder. "Good luck."

Rose Quartz and Pearl turned and went back up the hill. In the predawn light coming over the horizon of the ocean, Dor saw the side of the hill had been carved into the massive form of a multi-armed woman. The two warrior women met another pair at that strange door, they all stood on the crystalline pad and disappeared in a column of light. 

Chapter Text

Dorothy was free. The Infinite Library no longer pursued her. Mr. Quillon could no longer use her. Sister Mary Margaret would never spank her again. She had no obligation to return to St. Bridget’s, and could wander the Multiverse as she saw fit. She could do whatever she wanted.

A brisk wind came in off the ocean carrying a strong briny smell. Dor breathed deeply of it and suddenly decided what she really wanted, right this moment, was a bath. Despite her dunking in Rose Quartz’ fountain, the fight with the book elemental had left her sweaty and smelling of ash.

Dor put the wallet and her wand in her bookbag and withdrew the laundry bag. When she unfolded it, she could feel the weight of the Hogwartian uniform clothes she’d packed within. It seemed forever ago now, but she knew it could have been no more than a couple hours at most since she’d left Hogwarts. She stripped off the beige clothes issued her by Mr. Quillon. She considered tossing them into the ocean, but she didn’t have much, and to throw away anything seemed a waste, so she stuffed them into the laundry bag. She unbraided her hair and put the ribbons in the laundry bag also.

It had been winter at Hogwarts, quite nearly Christmas, but the air here held the sweet hint of spring. Dor took a moment to revel in the freedom of being nude on a beach, answerable to none. She flushed with it, at once embarrassed and thrilled. She stretched her arms above her head and took a slow breath. Her back popped. Her shoulders eased. Her vision fuzzed. The wind brushed her bare skin with cool fingers that made her shiver all over. She curled her toes in the sand and goosebumps shivered up her legs to her loins, to her breasts, pulling a gasp from her and pebbling her nipples.

With a delighted shout, she rushed into the gently lapping ocean.

The water was cold, but she pushed in up to her waist and hunched so she was in up to her shoulders. After a while, her body got used to the temperature of the water and she took a deep breath before ducking her head underneath. Though it stung a bit, she opened her eyes and looked at the sandy beach sloping away into darkness. She pulled her knees to her chest and floated just above the sand, letting the back and forth, back and forth of the ocean rock her, the dull roar of the water fill her ears, her thoughts. When her chest began to protest, Dor pushed for the surface and broke with a gasp. The great expanse of the grey-blue ocean reached for a fuzzy horizon, growing brighter by the moment, glints of dawn on the rippling surface.

Looking back to shore, Dor realized she was further than she’d thought. She nearly panicked, knowing she’d never been taught to swim, but instead she reached for the playing cards in her mind and plucked at [Kya’s Waterbending], proud of herself for acting logically rather than fearfully. The magic was careful along her shoulders, remembering her fight with the book elemental. Had it been long enough ago that she was no longer in danger of draining the last of her mana? She cast the spell with no ill effect, only a hint of a warning, a pressure within her thoughts, that she was close to her limit.

In the ocean, the waterbending stance came to her easily and she pulled the briny water about herself, letting it lift and propel her to shore. She stepped upon the sandy beach and pushed the water back, shaking as much from herself as she could.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Dor walked back to where she’d left her bag and got dressed in clothes from Hogwarts: black drawers with yellow trim, tan brassier, white button-up shirt, black skirt. The clothes stuck to her damp skin, but she didn’t care. It was warm enough she decided to forego the grey vest with black and yellow Hufflepuff markings. She also decided not to wear the stockings or shoes, relishing the feeling of wet sand on her bare feet. Making sure her wand, wallet, and laundry bag were secure, she settled her bookbag on her shoulder and made her way around the hill carved in the shape of a giant, multi-armed goddess.

The other side of the hill was a grassy slope, and at the end of the slope was a small building with a pink and blue awning. A large sign in the shape of a doughnut was perched upon the building’s roof. The front of the building was all glass and glowed from within with electrical lighting. The city beyond the store filled the little valley. It wasn’t as large as Republic City or as futuristic as New York City, but it was still larger and more advanced than the town outside St. Bridget’s Orphanage.

Dor forced herself not to shrink back, not to turn away. She walked with all the confidence she could muster to the little shop that smelled of sweet bread. She was stymied for a moment with the wall of windows, but after a moment realized one of them was a glass door. She pulled it open to the chiming of a small bell.

The bright electric light of the room shone off every surface. It all looked shiny and new and just a bit washed out by the light. The room smelled of baking and sweetness and just a hint of the kind of harsh cleaners Dor associated with the laundry back at St. Bridget’s.

The walls of the room were filled with glass cases filled with items, presumably doughnuts, or doughnut-adjacent. The far end of the room was dominated by a glass case filled with shelf upon shelf of doughnuts. Dor had been introduced to doughnuts at Hogwarts. They’d always been warm and fresh, while these looked like they’d been sitting out awhile. Nonetheless, it was a wealth of food.

Dor stared around the room in awe.

“Um… can I help you?”

A bored-looking young man wearing a purple shirt, his hair unnaturally black, a silver earring dangling from one lobe, gave her a heavy-lidded look.

“Oh.” Dor swallowed her fear and approached. “I would like a doughnut, please.”

“Sure, what kind?”

Dor looked at the case of doughnuts. Most were in varying shades of brown, like she’d expected, but some had a slick glaze covering, some had a thick brown frosting, and one row had a bright purple frosting, like nothing she’d seen before. She felt her eyes go wide and pointed it out.

The young man put a purple frosted doughnut into a bag and dropped it on the couther. He tapped at a machine and it made a sort of whirring noise.

“That’ll be one dollar.”

Dor fished out her new wallet. She knew vaguely how money worked but was unfamiliar with these crisp, green slips. She flipped through the wallet and found they were ordered numerically. She selected one with a large number 1 on it and shyly handed it over.

“Thank you, have a nice day,” said the young man with little to no affect.

“Um, and you as well,” said Dor.

She left the building and found a wooden boardwalk with the beach on one side and storefronts on the other. The other storefronts were dark, but a few people were about. No one paid her any mind, so Dor walked down to a wooden bench that faced the ocean. She sat, opened her bag and withdrew the doughnut.

It was thick, but chewy, and extraordinarily sweet. She especially liked the frosting which was smooth and vaguely berry tasting. It reminded her of the poptart Jubilee had shared with her more than the doughnuts at Hogwarts. Thinking of the girl, Dor found she was excited to see her again. She hoped Jubilee would be happy to see her too. Dor finished the pastry quickly and licked the frosting from her fingers. She was just thinking of going back for another, when someone sat on the bench next to her.

Dor put her hand in her bookbag, grasping the wand. She bit her tongue on a yelp and was proud of herself.

“It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you,” said the woman.

Dor looked at her. She was tall and pale, but not as pale as Pearl. She had blonde hair and a stern look. She was dressed in a black suit that looked formal to Dor’s eyes. The woman kept her gaze on the ocean. Dor leaned back and looked out at the water. She kept her hand on her wand and waited for the woman to continue.

“My name is Ava Sharpe. I’m with the Time Bureau in the reality most-commonly known as Earth-1.”

Dor’s ears perked, her shoulder’s tensed, and her hand twitched. In the room in her mind, her grimoire opened.

“I’m here because the director got an alert about a mindcage escapee. The Time Bureau doesn’t traffic in mindcages, but the Time Masters did. Apparently, a man named Silas Quillon committed several chronological crimes.”

 “I wouldn’t know about that,” said Dor. She believed this woman, Ms.  Sharpe. She had a rigidity about her that suggested truth. Even so, Dor didn’t trust her. The sisters of St. Bridget’s had a similar rigidity.

“A mindcage is designed to be a benign incarceration, taking on a nature suitable to the inmate. Unfortunately, in Silas Quillon’s case, it became a library with the information to trap others and pursue his own freedom.”

“Seems counterproductive.”

Ms. Sharpe snorted. “For a variety of reasons, the mindcages of the Time Masters are regarded as a mistake by the Time Bureau.”

Dor pursed her lips but said nothing. She watched the ocean. Behind her, on the boardwalk, the people of Beach City went about their business.  

Ms. Sharpe took a breath. “According to the multiversal ripples I’ve been studying, Silas Quillon was continuing to engage in criminal activity from his mindcage. I was able to extract four of his prisoners, girls from whom he’d stolen some form of interplanar magic. But you seem to have escaped on your own.”

Dor shrugged. “Kind of.”

Ms. Sharpe sighed. “Young lady, I truly mean you no harm, but I understand if you don’t believe me. That said, traveling to this dimension, a dimension not parallel to my own, requires a tremendous amount of energy. I haven’t whatever spark of magic it is you have. All I need to know is if you’re the fifth girl.”

Dor took her hand out of her bookbag and neatly folded the wax paper bag her doughnut had come in.

“My name is Dorothy Alice Wendy. Mr. Quillon wanted me to help him retrieve a version of Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem. With help, I tricked him into stealing the actual diadem from the Prime Wizarding World universe. The resulting paradox destroyed him.” She snuck a glance at Ms. Sharpe, feeling her cheeks growing warm at the boldness of her tone.

Ms. Sharpe looked at her, expression nonplussed. “I… see.”

“I didn’t want to.” Dor said. “I…” she sighed. “He was awful. He sent Elmira after me. He…”

“The Time Bureau has no affiliation with Mr. Quillon and from what I’ve heard he was a real son of a bitch. You will face no repercussions from us for defending yourself Ms.…”

Dor cleared her throat. “I don’t have a last name. They never gave me one at the orphanage. I’ve been thinking about picking one for myself.”

Ms. Sharpe nodded and gave a small smile. Dor decided this woman was far better than the sisters of St. Bridget's. “Well I’m sorry to say my time is up. I’d like to have gotten to know you a bit better. If you ever find yourself needing help in my neck of the Multiverse, you only have to ask.” She stood and pushed back her sleeve to reveal a wrist mounted device. She tapped at it and a frizzy white portal opened on a futuristic looking interior. Ms. Sharpe gave Dor another nod, went through the portal, and was gone.

Dor went back to The Big Donut. She bought another doughnut, this one with chocolate icing, then a cup of coffee, but she had to ask the bored young man behind the counter to show her how the coffee machine worked. He rolled his eyes at her but helped. As Beach City woke, Dor wandered up and down the boardwalk, wandering through the shops but declining to buy anything as she was worried about spending too much money.

Funland Arcade was a brilliant cacophony of stimuli, from flashing lights to chipper melodies to stale food. After several minutes’ wandering, she realized each cabinet mounted with a lighted screen was a kind of game. She thought she might like to try one, but observation told her they required coins and all she had was the bits of paper money.

She wandered from the arcade in a kind of daze.

When she got hungry again, she went back and bought another two doughnuts.

All in all, it was a good day.

The hill between Beach city and Rose Quartz’ mysterious little cave was a smooth grassy slope on the city side. Dor climbed to the top where stood an old lighthouse. The top of the goddess carving was on level with the top of the hill so with a bit of a jump, Dor found herself standing on the carven goddess’ head.

Dor sat crosslegged, tucking her skirt under her backside.

The view of the ocean was breathtaking, sparkling sapphire blue to a thin robins’-egg horizon. Dor sat for several minutes, staring. The gentle back and forth of the water, the faint hint of brine, easy rhythmic rush…

She closed her eyes and went to the room in her mind.

She decided she would visit Minwu first. When she’d seen the white Mage through the mental library, she’d been noticeably pregnant. Dor worried if she waited too long, Minwu would give birth and wouldn't have time for visitors.

In the room in her mind, Dor’s grimoire stood open showing the nine-pocket page. She went to close it, but the page turned to reveal a tenth card. This one was gold bordered and showed Rainbow Quartz limned in pastel light. It was bright and felt heavy, even just looking at it.

Gems’ Fusion 

Cost:     URW

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Shapeshifter

Text:     Exile two target creatures you control. If you do, create an X/Y creature token where X is the sum of the exiled creatures’ power and Y the sum of their toughness. It has all colors, types, and rules text of the exiled creatures. When this token leaves the battlefield, return cards exiled this way to the battlefield under their owner’s control.

Dor blinked, stunned. Of course there were more pages in the book, but she’d thought there wouldn’t be any more spells. Nine had seemed the perfect number. She put her finger on the smooth material of the nine-pocket page and the power of the spell danced through the material up her skin to make her shiver. Her cheeks warmed and her breath caught.

She drew her hand back, an unconscious smile playing about her expression. All her life she’d felt distant from others. Until this unexpected adventure, she’d never had any friends. But this playing card, this manifestation of magic, this was a metaphysical embodiment of a relationship, a friendship, and it was neatly catalogued here in her mind.

And there was more.

The smooth nine-pocket sleeves were translucent and [Gems’ Fusion] only took up one pocket. Though they were fuzzy, Dor could see more cards on the other side of the second page. Curious, she turned the page.

Every pocket on this page was filled with a card, each depicting a specific item. The first that drew her attention was Camelot’s Excalibur. The title of the card stood boldly upon a silver title bar at the top of the card, and the rest was devoted to art depicting the famed blade of King Arthur. It was a long-handled great sword with a heavy crossguard. Long and straight, it tapered to a point at the end. It was smooth and polished and gleaming upon its bed of samite. Just as she’d seen it in Mr. Quillon’s display room.

Dor withdrew the card. It had a heft and depth to it, much as the spell cards did, but a different flavor. She knew this was not a spell she could cast. Rather, each of these cards was an item of some power or significance Mr. Quillon has stolen. And now, with the collapse of the Infinite Library, they were in her grimoire. They’d become her responsibility. And with the Multiverse open to her, she could return them.

But first, she would see her friends.

Chapter Text

Minwu Ornitier walked between groups of students in dull grey robes, each of whom sat upon the floor, eyes closed, faces serene. She walked with careful grace, examining each student in turn. Though her magic wasn’t terribly reliable since her pregnancy, she could still feel the magic in others, could still feel the mana stirring, waiting to be shaped by a patient mind.

Except for one.

Jayce al’Caar didn’t even have his eyes closed. He sat slumped, playing with the hem of his grey apprentice robes. Minwu cleared her throat meaningfully. Jayce looked up at her as though surprised she’d noticed he wasn’t meditating, as though they hadn’t done this twice this week already.

Jayce straightened up and closed his eyes.

Minwu shook her head as she moved on. Jayce had started class by sitting next to Lilli, a girl who had made it clear she wasn’t interested in his attention, and chatting to her through the start of Minwu’s guided meditation. She’d have to deal with him again. She’d rather let the Dean of Students deal with the errant boy, but the dean preferred teachers handle their own discipline problems when possible.

Minwu looked at the clock and sighed when she realized there was only seven minutes left. The babies were wrestling in her womb, and she was ready for a break.

Most of the students were human, but Dor recognized some of the non-human races she’d seen at the military camp her first time to Ivalice. There were three moogles, short and white-furred; and a group of viera, slim with long, tall ears; and even a baanga, a broad, lizard-like person, all in grey robes.

Dor stayed hidden in a row of bookshelves, looking into the classroom through the open door lining up almost perfectly with her row. She was excited to see Minuw, but didn’t want to disrupt class. Minwu looked good. At the military camp, the white mage had always been on edge, tight, concerned. Here she looked round, soft, and happy. She wore a pristine white robe with the repeating red triangle pattern along its hem and cuffs. Her pink hair was long and shiny. Her belly was swollen with pregnancy.

“All right,” said Minwu. “I think that’s enough for today. Thank you, all.” The students blinked from their meditation and began to make their way from the classroom into the library proper, where Dor lurked. Dor pretended to be interested in the books where she hid, in case anyone looked her way.

“Jayce, stay a moment,” Minwu’s voice carried through the classroom. A human boy, no older than Dor, winced, but approached Minwu, who stood at a desk at the head of the classroom.

Dor waited at the end of the row of bookshelves.

“I’m sorry, Madam Ornitier,” the boy said.

“I’m sure you are, Jayce,” Minwu replied. “This is the third time this week you’ve been distracted during meditation. It’s one thing to disrupt your own learning, but now you’re disrupting that of your classmates. I may have to speak to Dean Undine about your behavior.”

The boy gasped. “No, please, I…”

Minwu sighed. “Very well. But this cannot continue. Bend over the desk.”

From her position, Dor had a perfect view as the boy bent over the far end of the desk. If he’d looked straight ahead, he’d have seen Dor staring. As it was, he put his forehead on the desk and squeezed his eyes shut. Minwu stood behind him, put a hand on his back to brace herself, then smacked his backside, five times, over his robes. The boy squirmed and whimpered.

Well that’s hardly fair, Dor thought. He didn’t even have to raise his skirts.

When she was done, the boy stood and rubbed his bottom tearfully. Minwu patted his shoulder.

“Get going, Jayce. I’m sure you don’t want to be late for your next class.”

“Thank you, Madam Ornitier.”

Dor waited for the boy to leave before she approached the classroom entryway. Minwu was gathering together a sheaf of papers into a leather scrip. One of the papers slipped from the stack and swayed through the air to settle under the desk. Minwu groaned. She braced a hand on the desk, preparing to kneel. With her belly swollen as it was, Dor was certain the normally simple task would be arduous.

“I’ll get it,” said Dor. She went down on her hands and knees by the desk and fished the piece of paper out from under it. She stood and handed it to Minwu.

Minwu had her eyes closed and was breathing evenly. “Thank you,” she said, tone strained. And when she opened her eyes, they quickly went wide. “Dorothy?”

Dor smiled, tears coming unbidden. “Hello. You look well.”

Minwu’s face contorted and for a moment, Dor thought she’d be sick. Then the woman began crying. She grabbed Dor and pulled her into a tight hug, awkward over her swollen belly. Dor hugged her back and, spurred by Minwu’s tears, let her own fall.

“You disappeared so suddenly,” Minwu said. “I understand why you did it, but you could have come to me for help. I could have protected you. Oh, I should spank you so hard, Dorothy, do you know that? I’m so happy to see you’re all right.” Despite how hard Minwu squeezed her, Dor didn’t pull away. Minwu kissed the top of her forehead. After some time more, Minwu pushed Dor to arm’s length.

“You look… confident.”

Dor smiled. “You look beautiful.” She reached a hand to Minuw’s belly, then hesitated. “May I?”

Minwu beamed. “Of course.”

Dor rested her hand on Minwu’s belly. It was firm through her white mage robes. “How far along are you?”

“About eight and a half months. I’m having twins.”

Dor smiled, then frowned in confusion. “How long as it been since I left?” She’d spent two weeks with Kya in Republic City and three and a half months with the Hufflepuffs at Hogwarts. It wouldn’t surprise her if time flowed differently between planes of existence, but it would provide quite the headache.

“Only about four months,” said Minwu. “I thought the stress of military life was why I missed my moondays, but apparently the one time I let my passions get the better of me…” She blushed. “I was nearly four months pregnant when you arrived and didn’t even know it.”

Dor grinned. “So. Who…”

Minwu blushed harder. She cleared her throat. “Why don’t we go back to my apartment to catch up?”

Minwu lead Dor through the library, past classrooms, to a set of stairs. The library was massive but cramped, with hardwood floors, straight backed chairs, and tall, meticulous book shelves.

“Where are we?” Dor asked as they climbed the stone steps.

“This is the Academy at Mysidia,” Minwu said. “How did you find me here if you didn’t know where here was?”

“I searched for you though the library in my mind. I’ve gotten much better at planeswalking. So long as I can focus on a person who’s in or near a library, I seem to be able to travel directly to the library. It’s only when I’m reaching blindly that I end up somewhere I’ve never been.”

“Curious,” Minwu said.

On the third floor was a set of apartments for teachers who didn’t have quarters off-campus. At the top of the staris, Minwu paused to catch her breath and Dor offered her arm. Minwu took it gratefully. She leaned on Dor as they made their way to the end of the hallway. The apartment was small and neat, everything in its place, just as Dor expected. There was a bed in one corner piled with quilts and pillows, all neatly folded and stacked. A three-drawer dresser stood at its foot. There was a space for sitting with two bookshelves and two thickly cushioned chairs. A thick rug covered most of the wooden floor and an attached water closet.

Next to the bed was a doubled-sized wooden bassinet, at the ready.

Minwu went to the window at the far end of the room, near the bed, and opened it a crack. “Sorry, Dorothy, I’m always too hot lately.”

“It’s fine,” said Dor. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Minwu shook her head, then said, “Actually, can you help me out of these robes?”

Dor loosed the ties at Minwu’s back and pulled it all over her head, then did the same with her undershift, leaving the white mage in a camisole, drawers, and stockings. Minwu sat on the bed and Dor pulled off her stockings. Minwu sighed with relief. Dor folded the clothes neatly and set them atop the dresser. With Dor’s help, Minwu stood and together they crossed the small apartment to the reading corner. Minwu sat with another sigh and cradled her belly.

“Thank you for understanding, Dorothy. All those layers are stifling.”

“Of course,” said Dor. She sat in other chair and tucked her feet under her.

“So,” said Minwu, “To answer your question, yes, Li is the father. He and I… it was a while before you arrived in camp. Li and I have known each other for several years. I needed companionship and he provided. I didn’t realize until later that we’d gotten pregnant. And once the commander found out, well, apparently expecting mothers aren’t allowed to serve on the front lines.”

“That seems sensible,” said Dor.

Minwu shot her a glare. “And what of expecting fathers?”

Dor squirmed uncomfortably. “Li’s not here?”

“He visits once every two weeks, but he’s still serving the commander as a bodyguard.”

“Sorry.”

Minwu closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” She looked at Dor and smiled, a few tears tracking down her cheeks. “I’m very glad you came to visit me.” She wiped at her cheeks with a small growl of frustration. “I hope you’ll forgive the crying too. I can’t control that anymore.”

“Of course.”

“All right.” Minwu took a big breath and cleared her throat. “Now, tell me what’s happened since you left.”

Dor gave her the whole story: Elmira, Quillon, Kya, Hogwarts, and her recent victory. She told her about the room in her mind and the grimoire and her wand. She told her about her studies of the multiverse and escaping the animated library.

“And then I was in a massive rose garden. I fell into a healing fountain. Then these women appeared, a giant woman with pink hair named Rose Quartz, and her bodyguard, a thin woman named Pearl. They were amazing, Minwu.”

Minwu laughed. “You are amazing, Dorothy. I’m so proud of you.”

Dor blushed. “I was only trying to protect myself. Not like you. You protect others.”

Minwu shook her head. “I’m a teacher now. My magic’s been a bit unreliable since the pregnancy got more… intense. And besides, you never gave up. You kept pushing, kept learning. I would dearly love to see your grimoire. I remember you describing it before, back in camp. I realize it only exists in your mind, but I’ve made a study of all kinds of magic. The way you describe magic is unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

Dor considered. It was true her grimoire only existed in her mind, but she’d held [Twilight’s Blink] in her hand on the roof of the orphanage. Perhaps she could bring the whole book into the real world.

Someone knocked at the door.

“By Ultima, what now?” Minwu said.

“I can answer it,” said Dor, standing. “Do you want me to fetch you a quilt?”

Minwu smiled at her, looking tired. “Would you please?”

Dor took a quilt from the bed and draped it over the nearly nude white mage, then went to the door. It was a young woman in the same grey robes the students in Minwu’s class had worn. She was a viera, with delicate feature and tall, rabbit-like ears. She blinked at Dor uncertainly.

“I’m supposed to ask what Madam Ornitier wants for dinner.”

Dor looked over her shoulder and Minwu nodded, so she let the girl in.

“Just the stew and bread, please, Zarya,” Minwu said. “And some for my guest, please.”

The girl nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

When she was gone, Dor closed the door.

“They deliver your food?”

“Only since it’s gotten difficult for me to go up and down the stairs so often. Honestly, it’s a bit irritating. I’m pregnant, not an invalid. And yet…” She sighed.

Dor took a breath, considering. She’d sat on the bench on Beach City’s boardwalk, thinking a lot about where to go first, which of her friends to see. She’d chosen Minwu because of her pregnancy, but also…

“Were you serious earlier?” Dor asked.

“About what?”

“About, you know, spanking me?”

Minwu raised her eyebrows. “You mean for running away instead of telling me what was going on? Yes. But, you’ve been through so much now…”

“Oh,” said Dor.

Minwu sat up straight, pushing the quilt down to her lap. “Dorothy? Is there something you want to say?”

Dor shrugged. “It’s just… Your spankings made me feel safe. And I… I felt really awful about leaving you like that. I… I was pushed away from Twilight Sparkle and Jubilee, but I left you. I wanted to apologize and to…”

“Well, I’d take you over my lap, but…” Minwu gestured at her belly.

“I could bend over the bed,” Dor said. She blushed. “Unless… If you’re too tired…”

“You’re serious about this?”

Dor nodded.

Minwu pushed herself to her feet and folded the quilt. “All right, young lady. Bare your bottom and bend over the bed. Your spanking is long overdue.”

Dor looked at the door apprehensively. “What about dinner?”

“They won’t be back for a few hours. We have time and privacy.”

Dor took off her bookbag and set it on her chair. She undressed, folding each article meticulously and setting it on top of her bag. As she did, Minwu went to her dresser and opened the top drawer. When she was nude, Dor turned to the bed and found Minwu looking at her, arms crossed beneath her ample breasts, hairbrush in one hand.

Dor whimpered, but it was also a kind of sigh.

She went to the bed and bent, resting her forearms on the folded quilts, thrusting her pale, naked bottom high. She felt at once relaxed and nervous, certain Minwu would take good care of her. She tingled all over, a dancing power tickling at her skin. She was vulnerable and eager and when Minwu put a hand on her back, she tensed. Minwu put her wide, soft hip against Dor and Dor leaned into her. The white mage was warm, like hot chocolate on a winter day. Minwu rested the hairbrush back on Dor’s bare bottom. She patted it gently several times, alternating cheeks.

Dor braced herself.

Minwu put her hand on Dor’s waist and held her tight.

The back of the hairbrush stung. Dor’s nates were lit afire in a matter of moments. The rhythmic crack of smooth wood on her bottom filled her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut but they were no barrier to the tears. Her shoulders ached with the weight of the spanking, but she held firm, refusing to collapse. She found she couldn’t stop herself from wiggling, from swaying side to side as much as Minwu’s firm hold would let her, unintentionally trying to escape the stinging hairbrush.

When it was done, Dor felt like the fire of the spanking had spread though her, but it felt good. Like she’d been cleansed or renewed. She had deserved the spanking for leaving Minwu, for not trusting her, or at least talking to her first. Now she felt absolved of that. But more, she felt comforted and loved in a way she never had back at the orphanage. Sister Mary Margaret and the others were the guardians of the orphans, but they had never been as motherly as Minwu. In Minwu, Dor had, not a mother exactly, but perhaps a big sister, someone she could approach with her guilt and come away feeling forgiven, whether though a frank discussion or a firm hug or a thorough spanking.

Minwu pulled a pair of soft, oversized nighties from her dresser. She pulled on one and gave Dor the other. They sat on the bed close together, Minwu’s arm around Dor’s shoulder, cuddling until Dor’s tears went away, until the fire was a blessed warmth, until there was a knock at the door.

Minwu was about to get up, but Dor forestalled her.

“You don’t have to wait on me,” Minwu said.

Dor shook her head. “You’ve done a lot for me today. Let me do this for you.” She kissed Minwu’s cheek and got to her feet.

The same young, grey-clad viera girl was there with a lap tray bearing two large bowls filled with a thick, creamy vegetable stew and a pair of crusty brown rolls and a pitcher of water with a pair of mugs.

Dor let her in and the girl brought it to Minwu’s bed.

Minwu and Dor ate dinner on the bed together. Despite the several doughnuts she’d eaten in Beach City, Dor found herself voracious. The stew was filling and satisfying. When they were finished, Dor set the dirty dishes on the lap tray outside the door at Minwu’s direction.

Then Dor let Minwu brush out her hair with the same hairbrush she’d used to spank Dor’s bottom. She hadn’t done anything with her hair since her dunking in Rose’s fountain and subsequent bath in the ocean, so it was tangled and salty, but Minwu was gentle. When her hair was brushed out, Minwu put it in two neat braids and tied them with a pair of spare white ribbons.

Minwu tried to insist Dor should take the bed and she’d sleep in one of the chairs, but Dor flatly refused. When Minwu persisted, Dor said, “Keep that up and I won’t be the only one with a spanked bottom in this apartment.”

Minwu looked at her surprised.

Dor took Minwu’s hands and kissed them. “You aren’t an invalid, but you are pregnant and there’s no way I’m kicking you out of your bed.”

Minwu chuckled. “You really have grown more confident.”

With the chairs pushed together so the seats faced each other, Dor had a cushy if cramped bed. Compared to the standard of Princess Celestia’s palace, or the four-posters in the Hufflepuff basement, it wasn’t terribly comfortable, but she’d made due with worse for the first thirteen years of her life at St. Bridget’s.

Dor sat in the room in her mind. She hadn’t had a chance to examine it since defeating the book elemental. It was packed with books, more than there’d been before. Every bit of wall space was covered with bookshelves and every shelf was filled with books. Only a narrow doorway in one wall interrupted the flow of books.

Dor took her time examining them.

There were all the books she expected to be there: Wibbly Wobbly, Considering L-Space, Theories of the Multiverse, but there was also There and Back Again and The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien. There was Hogwarts, a History, which she’d only read a bit of in the Hogwarts library. And then there was a series of seven books proclaiming itself the Harry Potter series. Dor pulled the first: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. She opened it to the first page:

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

It appeared to be the story of Harry Potter’s years at Hogwarts School of Wizardry. The prime universe, Mr. Quillon had called it. Before she could get sucked into the tale, she reshelved it. She wanted to examine the rest. And there would be time for reading later.

In the way of dreams, her focus shifted, recentering on her grimoire, which sat upon the study table in the center of the room. Minwu had said she’d like to look at it. Dor thought it might be possible. If books she’d never read before, books describing planes of existence as fiction, could exist in the room in her mind, then why couldn’t her grimoire exist outside her mind?

She tucked the brown, leather-bound book under her arm and went to that narrow door interrupting the bookshelves. She knew by the tingle in her shoulders that door led to the multiverse, through the Blind Eternities, to all manner of planes of existence, one of which included the war-torn land of Ivalice and the mage school at Mysidia and the apartment in which rested Minwu Ornitier.

Dor opened the door and stepped into the book-lined hallway of her mind, letting her fingers trail along the bookspines and, just as before, several steps on, a corridor opened on her left.

This time, instead of stepping into the library proper, she stepped into Minwu’s private collection, a pair of bookcases taking up one corner of the small apartment where she’d pushed a pair of chairs together to create a makeshift bed.

Dor stumbled coming out of the library in her mind and fell onto the chairs with a grunt and a squeak.

“Dor? Are you hurt?”

“No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I haven’t fallen asleep yet. The babies are kicking. I thought you were asleep though. You were snoring.”

Dor blushed. “I… uh… I snore?”

“Lightly. It’s cute. Li snores like…” Minwu cleared her throat and sniffled

Dor looked at her grimoire in the faint light coming through the window. “I was dreaming. I think. I was in the room in my mind and… you said you wanted to see my grimoire, right?”

“Seriously?” Excitement was evident in Minwu’s tone.

“I think so. Though I was dreaming…” She squeezed the book in her hands, convincing herself it was solid. “On the other hand, sometimes dreams help me learn my spells. Remember when I set off [Jubilee’s Dazzler] in our tent?”

Minwu snorted. “I certainly do.” Dor heard Minwu struggle to sit up. And with a scrape and a clink, lit a lantern. The soft orange glow filled the room. “I can’t sleep anyway,” said Minwu. “Can we look at it now?”

Dor smiled. Minwu seemed positively giddy. “Absolutely.”

The night had grown cool and Dor was happy for her borrowed nightgown, but Minwu was still too warm and had divested herself of her underwear. Even in pregnancy, or perhaps because of it, Dor thought Minwu was beautiful. Her wide hips and full breasts compared to Dor’s own slim, boyish figure, made her blush. They sat together on Minwu’s bed and Dor set the grimoire upon her lap.

It was precisely as it had been in her mind. A thick, brown leather cover enclosing pages of a smooth, transparent material. Each page was broken into pockets, three rows of three, and each pocket held a playing card. There were five white cards, two blue, and two red. Dor withdrew [Minwu’s Cura], the art for which showed the beautiful, pink-haired white mage limned with blue light, eyes closed, face serene.

It felt cool and heavy in her fingers, like it held a wealth of knowledge, years of training, hard experience. She handed it to Minwu who took it carefully.

“It feels like thick paper, but… I don’t know how to describe it.”

Dor nodded.

“And this script. I can read the title, Minwu’s Cura,” the white mage cleared her throat and Dor saw her blush. “But I don’t know what the rest of this means. I think I recognize the words, but as soon I look at the next it’s like I’ve forgotten it. And yet it feels like the spell I know… condensed.”

She turned the card over and on the backside was a plain brown field, the same color as the cover of the book, and five colored spheres, each equidistant from the others, like they were points of a pentagon, white at the top and, in clockwise order, blue, black, red, and green.

“What does this mean?” Minwu asked.

Dor shook her head. “I’m not certain. So far everything I’ve learned has a colored border and I think,” she touched the white sphere at the top, “this spell has an association with the white sphere. Likewise the blue with the blue sphere, and the red with the red. But I’ve never seen a black or green bordered card.”

“Well you’ve only been at it for what, six months?”

Dor nodded. “Or thereabouts. It’s been hard to keep track of time, especially with the seasons being inconsistent.”

Minwu handed back the card, and Dor slipped it into its pocket. “What do you mean?”

“I told you about Hogwarts? There, everyone’s just gone on break for Christmas, a winter holiday. But in Beach City, it smelled like spring. Also, it’s the year nineteen-o’eight back at the orphanage, but twenty-fifteen in New York City. So, time’s become hard to keep track of.”

“Fascinating,” said Minwu. “And you’re certain you’re not a time traveler?”

Dor nodded but said, “Not entirely. I think so. The different versions feel different, have a different,” she shrugged, “flavor.”

“Well, so you know, this planet isn’t called Earth, it’s called Gaia.”

“Which is the Greek word for Earth,” said Dor. “On my world there’s a lot of different languages and Gaia is what the Greeks called it.”

Minwu was fascinated by the differences between planes, fascinated that everyone Dor had met on differing planes of existence spoke English, or as Minwu called it, the Common Tongue. Dor told her what Mr. Quillon had said about parallel worlds that had largely the same history versus alternate worlds which had vast differences. She told her about the idea of a Prime Universe and the parallels resultant came from less likely choices. She let Minwu examine each of her spells in turn, describing how it felt to bend water with movement, to organize her mind like a library, to disarm an opponent, to cast blinding sparks.

“I remember how that one felt,” said Minwu with nudge.

Dor giggled. “You already spanked me for that.”

She described how powerful it felt to hurl fire, though Elmira Gulch on the red spells in her mind made her uncomfortable.

“This is the girl who pursued you?” Minwu asked.

Dor nodded.

“There’s always much to learn. Even from our foes. What happened to them?”

“The book elemental stuck Mr. Quillon into nonexistence. Ms. Sharpe, from the Time Bureau, said she rescued the other girls. Including Elmira.” Dor sighed. “Mr. Quillon was awful. He did awful things to those girls and I’m sure he had awful things planned for me, but I still feel bad. I wish our conflict could have been resolved more gently.

“As for Elmira and the others. They’re rescued, but I don’t know what’s happened to them since.” She touched the red cards, they felt warm and eager though the pocket. “She was mean and angry,” Dor said. “She hated me. But I hope she’s all right.”

Minwu kissed the top of her head.

Dor cleared her throat and turned the page. “And look at this.” [Gems’ Fusion] had a gold border but a pinstripe around the artwork faded from white to blue to red. Dor withdrew the card and handed it to Minwu.

“A combination of colors I suppose,” said Minwu. “She closed her eyes. “I get a sense of this one. It’s about joining together, both literally and figuratively, mentally and emotionally. This is a spell of friendship.”

Dor’s shoulders tingled gently.

“And what of these?” Minwu asked, turning the page.

The next nine-pocket page and the several after that were filled with the full art depictions of the myriad artifacts Mr. Quillon had stolen. They had no text but for their titles. After Dor explained, Minwu nodded thoughtfully.

“I suppose with your paradox summoning the book elemental and subsequent collapse of the mindcage, because the elemental followed you through your mind space, the one anchored to the other. That must have been enough to put his ill-gotten gains into your grimoire.”

Minwu tapped the card entitled Camelot’s Excalibur, the great blade of King Arthur resting upon a bed of samite. “This is a holy object,” she said. “May I?” Dor nodded and Minwu withdrew the playing card form its pocket. The white mage hefted it.

“Do you know what this is?”

Dor nodded. “Where I come from, it’s the sword of the legendary King Arthur, head of the Knights of the Round table. He earned it from the Lady of the Lake. It’s a symbol of striking down evil and protecting the innocent. But it’s not real, just a legend. Except Mr. Quillon said King Arthur really existed in some versions of Earth and he got this one from the Lady of the Lake after King Arthur’s death.”

“Fascinating,” said Minwu. “There’s an Ivalice legend of Excalibur as well. It was forged by the dwarves for the Warriors of Light and used to slay the Great Demon Chaos.”

Dor sighed, dejected.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hoped to return these artifacts to their proper places. But if there’s a legend of Excalibur on Earth, and here on Gaia, how do I know which Excalibur this is? Is there a Camelot in this world too?”

“There is.” Minwu nodded, then pursed her lips. “The way you describe your magic, it’s largely intuitive. Do you get a feeling from this card?”

Dor shook her head. She didn’t get the same tingly feeling from the stolen artifacts she got from her spells.

“It’s almost like I need to read the card’s mind.”

“Hmm… Telepathy is a rare skill on Ivalice. Do any of your extra-planar friends have access to telepathy?”

Dor immediately thought of Jean, the tall, calm, red-haired woman in the black uniform who, along with Scott, had saved her and Jubilee from the metal spiders. Jean had spoken directly into her mind. And though Dor hadn’t gotten to know her well enough to call her a friend, perhaps Jubilee would put in a good word for her.

When the sun rose, Dor yawned finally feeling tired.

“Help me up, would you?” said Minwu. “I have to pee and get ready for the day.”

“Oh, you have to teach don’t you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up all night.”

Dor helped haul Minwu to her feet.

“That’s not your fault. The babies have kept me up all night more than once. Besides, I’ve only got meditation classes this semester.”

“Still,” said Dor. “I should have…”

Minwu waved her off. “If you feel that bad, you can help me get ready for the day.”

After Minwu’s turn in the water closet, Dor took one, then she brushed Minwu’s hair and helped her get dressed before opening the laundry bag and selecting her own clothes. She chose the yellow Hufflepuff panties, black skirt, and white button up. Though it wasn’t Hogwarts, it was still a school, so Dor decided a bit more formality was in order and put on the black and yellow striped Hufflepuff tie. Finally, she belted on her holster and slid her wand into place snugly.

“That’s fetching,” said Minwu.

“It the Hogwarts uniform. Yellow and black is for House Hufflepuff.”

They were about to make their way down to the mess hall when a solid knock sounded at the door. Dor looked at Minwu who shrugged, so Dor answered it. There stood Li. He wore a dark blue vest and pants cinched with a black belt. His clothes were frayed, worn, and mud-stained. He looked travel weary, but his expression was bright. He bore a lap tray with large, steaming kettle and three ceramic mugs each full of coffee. The aroma perked Dor up.

He smiled at Dor. “When they told me Minwu had a guest, I was hoping it’d be you. It’s good to see you, Dorothy.”

“Good to see you too, papa-to-be.”

Li’s smiled turned to a goofy grin.

“I brought coffee,” he said.

“By all means,” said Dor, stepping aside. She looked at Minwu, expecting her friend to be thrilled. Instead Minwu had her arms crossed tightly beneath her breasts, expression firm.

Dor looked from Minwu to Li, whose expression faded, back to Minwu.

“Here,” said Dor, taking the lap tray from Li. “Let me…”

Li came into the room, arms almost outstretched then stopped then put his hands at his side awkwardly. Dor stepped aside, setting the lap tray on one of the chairs. She picked up a mug of coffee and breathed it in.

Neither Li nor Minwu looked ready for coffee, so Dor tried to stay out of the way. There had been coffee at Hogwarts, but it’d been a morning or two since she’d had any, and just the smell was enough to make her shoulders relax. She took a sip and let the warm drink tingle at her taste buds before swallowing. She felt the faint hint of a buzz tease about the base of her skull.

“It’s good to see you,” Li see.

“It’s been nearly three weeks,” said Minwu.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I was going to send a letter, but… Things came up.”

“Things that put you in danger?”

“You know I can’t talk about that,” said Li, tone half pleading, half apologetic.

“If I were there, I could at least protect you. Or heal you. These babies need you,” Minwu said, putting a hand on top of her belly.

“Yes,” said Li. He reached into his vest. “That’s why—“

“I need you,” said Minwu. “I need you here. With me.”

“I know. I…”

“You say that, but you’ve been gone. I know you think Duke Cornelia fights for a righteous cause. I know you think the War of the Lions is important. But it’s not more important than your family.”

Li looked about to say something else, then clamped his jaw and withdrew a folded piece of paper from his vest. “The commander gave me this. She insisted, in fact. It’s a letter of discharge.”

Minwu took a breath as though to respond, but her breath was shaky and tears spilled down her cheeks. Within moments, she was crying uncontrollably. Li went to her and she hugged him fiercely, making fists in the back of his vest. Li wrapped his arms gently around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

Quietly as she could, Dor left the apartment, went down the hall and sat at the top of the stairs where she drank her coffee.

They ate breakfast together in the mess hall. Though Minwu had obviously been crying, she practically glowed. She and Li sat very close together.

The magic school at Mysidia was offering Li a teaching position, training those mages who expected to find themselves on the front lines in the rudiments of physical self-defense. Today he would move the both of them into one of the school’s family accommodations, a cozy cottage on campus, but not in the library itself. All of this Li told them with unbridled enthusiasm.

When it was time for Minwu’s first class, Li went upstairs to move her things to their new cottage. Dor went with Minwu to class where she was introduced as Minwu’s apprentice from a foreign magic school. This garnered Dor a lot of curious looks, but no one bothered to speak to her. She sat with them and meditated at Minwu’s direction. She found she could sit in silent darkness, feeling the presence of the room in her mind, with comforting ease.

During Minwu’s third class, Dor was joined by a boy. It was Jayce, the same boy she’d seen spanked yesterday. He smiled at her in a friendly way that reminded her of her fellow Hufflepuffs. It wasn’t that the other students in Minwu’s meditation classes had been unfriendly, rather cautiously standoffish. This boy had no such reservations.

“Hi. I’m Jayce.” He stuck out his hand.

Dor shook firmly and saw him wince slightly. Though she was sure he couldn’t be younger than her, he seemed very childlike. Dor had just turned thirteen the month before all this started, but she found she’d never felt much like a child.

“Dor. Nice to meet you.”

“So, you’re Madam Ornitier’s apprentice?”

Dor nodded. At the head of the room, Minwu began leading them through meditation. Dor closed her eyes, feeling the peace of the last two periods settling about her shoulders.

“Were you with her in the War of the Lions?”

Dor opened one eye to find Jayce looking at her with unabashed curiosity. “Yes.”

“Wow. I’m going to serve on the front lines one day.”

Dor frowned. Her experience in that military camp had been brief, but the little she’d seen had convinced her she wasn’t excited by war. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“What’s it like at your school?”

Dor snapped her eyes open. “Young man, if you don’t want to find yourself with a spanked bottom, I suggest you begin your meditation.” Jayce blushed and hunched his shoulders. Dor bit her tongue. On the one hand, he was annoying and she didn’t feel like she owed him anything. On the other, she could see her comment had stung. “Look. You want to be a mage in the War of the Lions? Meditation is the first step.”

“But it’s so boring.”

Jayce’s tone held an edge of whining, and it was all Dor could do not to spank him herself.

“The very basics of magic are about concentration, focus, imagination and metaphor. If you can’t even manage that, you’ll never be able to cast Cura.” As she said the word, the white-bordered card flickered in her mind.

“I don’t—“

Dor held up a hand. “Focus, Jayce.”

“On what? The blackness behind my eyelids? A bowl of water?”

“How about a room?”

There was a curious pause, then he said, “What?”

“Imagine a room in your mind. It’s your room. Only you can go there and it can be anything you want.” Jayce took a breath, but Dor continued to forestall him. “Imagine you’re sitting in the middle of that room. Imagine it has everything you need to be comfortable.”

“My books?” Jayce’s voice was quieter, calmer.

“Yes. Tell me about the books.”

“My grandpa’s old war journals. His theorems on black magic. Mom’s book of sword forms. The tales of Bartz the Adventurer…”

“Can you see them?” Dor asked. “Are they on a shelf in the room in your mind?”

“Yeah. Okay. I can see them.”

“Excellent. I want you to imagine them in minute detail. Every crease. Every wrinkle. What do they smell like? What do they sound like when you flip through the pages? And when you’ve got them firm in your mind, look at the bookshelf. Is it made of wood? What kind? What color?”

Dor paused and took a breath. She took another, waiting, and when she took a third and Jayce didn’t speak, she opened an eye to look at him. He sat up straight, eyes closed, breath even.

Dor smiled.

At the end of the day, Dor sat with Minwu and Li in their new little cottage. Li had brought everything of Minwu’s into the cottage from the apartment, which was mostly the clothes and books. Dor noticed the bassinet had been brought and stood next to a bed big enough for the two of them. All through dinner, Dor couldn’t help but notice all the little looks and touches passing between the two.

When the meal was done, Dor pushed back from the table and stood.

“You’re not going, are you?” Minwu asked, tears immediately at her eyes.

“I’ll visit, I promise,” said Dor. “But I need to start figuring out how to return all those stolen artifacts.”

Minwu stood and came around the table to give Dor a hug. “I’m going to be very cross if ‘soon’ turns out to be more than a week. I’m serious. I’ll worry if you’re gone too long.”

Dor nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Li gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head.

Dor turned to the bookshelves on the far end of the room, still only half full, and felt a tingle along her shoulders. She walked toward them and a corridor opened in her mind. She stepped through and slipped between.

Chapter Text

Benjamin Tennyson crept through the woods on silent, padded feet. Wildmutt, the shaggy, orange, four-legged, dog-like alien wasn’t Ben’s favorite creature from the alien-watch, but it was the best as sneaking. Even though it was large and broad, Wildmutt’s feet were soft and silent when he wanted them to be. And even though it had no eyes, Wildmutt’s senses were superior, detecting heat and scent in a way far better than anything Ben could do in his boring old humanform. He was pretty proud of himself for getting the alien he meant to on the first try.

At the edge of the woods through which Ben, as Wildmutt, stalked, was a small lake where he and Gwen and Grandpa had fished that afternoon. Now Gwen Tennyson, his dweeb of a cousin, sat at the end of the rickety old dock, tapping away at her laptop. She wasn’t even supposed to have her laptop out. Grandpa wanted them to “get the full camping experience”, which is why she’d snuck off.

Ben couldn’t help but snicker. In Wildmutt’s form, the snicker manifested as a deep, throaty chuckle. He could already imagine Gwen’s face when he got right up behind her and barked as loud as he could.

Dor focused on Jubilee as she walked down the book-lined corridors of L-Space, navigating the Blind Eternities, her chest warmed by the spark of magic that allowed her to planeswalk. She hoped her friend was in a library, or at least near a library. After several minutes of walking, she was beginning to worry she’d need to rethink her path when L-Space shifted and shook just a bit. Then a corridor suddenly opened on her left.

Curious but cautious, Dor turned and found shelves of smooth, white metal, each book sheathed in a bright green cover. The corridor stretched as far as she could see with meticulous uniformity. Dor knew, uncertain how, that there were over a million books in this corridor.

Curious, Dor reached out for one. The cover was smooth and cool, much like the nine-pocket pages of her grimoire. The front was that same bright green with a black circle stamped in its center. Within the circle was contained a green hourglass symbol. Below the symbol was a single word in utilitarian font: Vulpimancer.

She opened the book.

Vulpimancers are the sapient species of the planet Vulpin. They are quadrapedial canids and range from 1.8 to 4.5 meters at the shoulder. Their fur is in shades of brown to red to orange with adult males developing stripes upon their backs. They have the paws, claws, and jaws typical of most canids throughout the universe.

Vulpimancers are one of the few species of the universe without ocular organs. Instead, they have gill-like nostrils on the sides of their necks allowing them to sense a variety of stimuli including infrared and ultraviolet, which are typically outside the visible spectrum.

The book went on like that for a while and Dor knew she could have stood there for hours reading about the fascinating species. But her shoulders tingled and her chest grew warm and she remembered she had a goal. She turned to return to her usual pathway only to find it gone, that the hallway of books with bright green covers on smooth white bookshelves stretched forever in both directions.

Dor bit her lip and cursed her lack of focus. She made sure of her bookbag on her shoulder and her wand at her hip before continuing though the corridor, hoping it took her somewhere with a library.

Dor stumbled from the Blind Eternities in a flash of green light, falling sideways to a dirt floor and the scent of pine. Dor scrambled to her feet and her bearings, drawing her wand. She found herself just inside the edge of a forest. A large, shaggy orange quadraped with no eyes and a massive muzzle stood at the edge of the forest facing a lake several paces on. It was a vulpimancer, the same creature she’d read about in the library in her mind.

And on a dock jutting into that lake sat a girl with her back to the vulpimancer.

The vulpimancer turned its muzzle Dor’s way and growled low in its chest. Its throat gills flared and she knew it had sensed her.

“Easy,” said Dor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The creature took a threatening step toward her, lips curling in a snarl.

Dor settled back into a waterbending stance and felt the water in the lake shift.

The vulpimancer took another step toward her, and Dor took a smooth step back, remembering how Kya had taught her to stand, taught her to move. The blue-bordered playing card tickled at the back of her mind.

“Easy,” she said again. “Easy…”

But the vulpimancer crouched and she knew it was about to leap. She moved her arms in an abrupt sweep, left to right, even as the canid alien pounced at her. A stream of water leapt from the lake and slammed into the creature, knocking it sideways. The girl on the dock shouted in surprise and alarm. Dor spared her a look in case there were more vulpimancers, but the girl was alone and unharmed, staring in amazement. The vulpimancer got to its feet, shaking water from its matted fur.

Dor hadn’t realized before, but the creature wore a collar. It was bright green and at its center was a symbol, the same symbol stamped on the cover of the book in her mind, a green hourglass inscribed in a black circle. The symbol was bulky, made of some kind of metal, and it glowed with an inner light. With its shiny metal and glowing light, it reminded Dor of the mechanical spiders in New York City. She wondered if [Jubilee’s Dazzler] would be as effective against this machine as it had been against the spiders.

The vulpimancer growled and charged. Dor lifted her hands, wand loose in her right, and the water that had splashed into the earth lifted with them. She took a step back while thrusting her right hand forward. The vulpimancer dodged to the side but she managed to catch it a glancing blow upon its shoulder. It tumbled to its feet gracefully. The beast was strong and dexterous and Dor was certain she couldn’t hold it off for long. The red-bordered fire spells flickered in the back of her mind, warmed her shoulders, but she didn’t want to use them unless absolutely necessary.

Dor readied herself for the vulpimancer’s next assault, lifting the water about herself in a defensive streamer. It came at her, feinting to her left. Dor lashed with the water, but missed as the creature moved to the right and came for her, jaws wide. Dor reacted, flicking her wand, the white-bordered card bursting in her thoughts, and threw pink and yellow sparks at the vulpimancer’s collar. When they struck, the green hourglass sparked and turned red. It emitted a series of tones in descending order and volume, then sputtered. The vulpimancer glowed with bright green light for a moment and a half, and when it faded, the canid alien was replaced by a little boy, tumbling to the forest floor.

The boy pushed to his feet, soaked and groaning. He was younger than Dor by a few years at least. Short and wiry, he had a shock of uncombed brown hair and bright green eyes. He wore a white and black short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of baggy, dark green pants. The device the vulpimancer had worn around its neck was duplicated on the boy’s wrist.

Dor looked around for the alien beast before realizing the boy was the vulpimancer, and that he’d been sneaking up on the girl. Dor felt a burning roil in her belly that spread through her chest to her shoulders.

“Were you stalking her?” Dor demanded, pointing at the girl.

The boy looked guilty, hunching his shoulders and ducking his head. He looked up at Dor, half defiant, half mischievous. “What’s it to you? Who are you anyway?”

“You naughty, naughty, little boy,” said Dor. She was inclined to spank his bottom, but she didn’t know him, didn’t have permission, and didn’t want to act as the sisters at St. Bridget’s had. So, she took a breath and bit her tongue.

The boy crossed his arms defiantly. “Whatever. She’s just a stupid girl anyway. I was only—”

Dor’s compunction evaporated. She snagged his arm. “Just a stupid girl? Well this girl defeated you in a duel. Let me show you what else a girl is capable of.” For all the boy’s strength and speed as a vulpimancer, as a little boy he wasn’t better than average.

“Hey, what are you doing?” the boy demanded.

Dor knelt on the forest floor, left thigh horizontal, and drew him to her.

“Whoa, wait a minute!”

Dor found it easy to bend him over her thigh. The baggy pants, she knew, would be sufficient impediment to her chastisement, but they were loose enough around the waist that, when she grabbed hold of them, she easily pulled them to his ankles.

“You can’t!” he said, voice high and pleading.

The boy put a hand back, but Dor took hold of his wrist without trouble. He wore a pair of bright green panties with white trim. Dor considered pulling them down, but after a moment decided not to. It felt like a step too far.

She spanked his bottom low, where it met his thighs. The boy yelped, high and shrill, like he’d never been spanked before. Dor felt sympathy for him. She had never managed to take a spanking stoically, the way Sister Mary Margaret thought she ought to. But Dor was determined to make sure he would think twice about sneaking up on little girls minding their own business.

She spanked him again.

“Okay!” he said desperately. “I get it. I get it! Please…”

She spanked him a third time, his little bottom bouncing under her palm.

“Please. I’m sorry. I…”

She spanked him a fourth time and felt the sting in her palm. She knew the spanking must have turned his bottom pink, even though, from her experience, it had been mild.

“Gwen! Help me! Get Grandpa Max! I’m being attacked!”

Girlish, high-pitched giggling caught Dor’s attention, and she looked to the left where the girl who’d sat on the dock stood watching, a device in the crook of her arm and a smirk on her face. Though her hair was vivid auburn, she had the same green eyes as the boy over her thigh. She wondered if they were related. Brother and sister perhaps.

The girl held up a hand. “Don’t stop on my account. This brat’s deserved a spanking for, like, the last ten years.”

“Hey!” shouted the boy. “Why don’t you use your lucky powers and get this crazy girl off me?”

“I lost my powers when the charm was destroyed, you doofus,” the girl, Gwen, said.

“You know this boy?” Dor asked.  

Gwen nodded. “He’s my annoying cousin, Benjamin Tennyson.”

“He had assumed the shape of a vulpimancer and was stalking you.” Dor wondered if she’d stumbled upon a magical sibling rivalry.

Gwen frowned. “Grandpa Max told you to stop using your powers to pick on me, Ben.”

“I wasn’t picking on you,” Ben objected.

Dor spanked him and the crack of her palm on his butt bounced through the trees. “It’s an extraordinarily bad idea to lie while being spanked,” Dor said.

“Owie! Okay! I’m sorry for… for using my powers to pick on you.”

Gwen giggled. Dor looked at her, and Gwen blushed and put her hands behind her back.

 “He’s your cousin,” Dor said. “And you’re the one he misbehaved against. I took it upon myself to spank him because I thought he was attacking a defenseless child. But you don’t seem defenseless to me.”

Gwen shrugged. “I can hold my own, but if you want to keep spanking that brat, I’m all for it.”

“Gwen! No! Please,” Ben cried out. “I’m sorry. Make her let go.”

Gwen sighed. “All right, fine.” She looked at Dor. “I appreciate you coming to my defense, but you should probably let him go now.”

Dor did so and stood, backing up a couple steps in case the boy turned into a vulpimancer again. Ben hopped to his feet and rubbed his bottom vigorously before blushing hard and pulling up his pants, muttering. Dor decided not to listen too hard lest she felt compelled to spank him again. It really wasn’t her place and she felt a touch ashamed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gwen said quietly while Ben groused. “Ever since he found that alien watch, he’s been more full of himself than usual. He deserved a smacked bottom. I’m Gwendolyn, by the way. You can call me Gwen.”

“I’m Dorothy. You can call me Dor.”

“Pleasure to meet you. So… you’re a mage?”

Dor nodded. “Of a sort. I’ve just started learning about my powers.”

“Well, what are you doing out here anyway?” Ben demanded. “I thought you were a bad guy, like Hex. Magic is bad news.”

“Not everyone with magic is a bad guy, Ben,” Gwen chided.

“It’s not cool to go popping out of other people’s watches,” Ben said, tapping the device at his wrist, giving the circular part a twist.

Dor shrugged. “I really don’t know how I ended up here. I was traveling L-Space, trying to planeswalk to a friend in New York. I didn’t expect to end up in the middle of the woods.”

“New York?” said Gwen. “You’re way off the mark. This is Colorado.”

Dor nodded. She felt way off the mark. She recognized Colorado as one of the states near the middle, but the sisters hadn’t put much emphasis on teaching United States geography. Plus, this world felt different than the New York City where she’d met Jubilee. The flavor was off. “I don’t even think I’m on the right Earth,” Dor said.

“Right Earth?” said Gwen. “You mean there are other Earths?”

Dor nodded. “I don’t suppose there’s a library around here somewhere?”

“Yeah,” said Ben sarcastically. “Just walk that way until you find a big tree. Then turn left until you find another big tree—“

“Oh, shut up, you dweeb,” said Gwen. She took Dor’s hand. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Grandpa Max. He’ll know what to do.”

Dor let Gwen lead her through the woods. Ben hurried to catch up.

Dor looked at the brown-haired boy. His cheeks were flushed, but he didn’t look angry. Instead, he looked repentant. Dor bit her lip nervously. She was about to apologize when Ben cleared his throat.

“Um, Dor? Would it be okay if we didn’t tell grandpa about me sneaking up on Gwen? He already thinks I’m being irresponsible with the watch.”

Dor looked at the device strapped to the boy’s wrist. It didn’t look a time-keeping device to her, but she already knew sometimes familiar words had different meanings on different planes.

“Would he spank you again?” Dor asked.

“What? No way,” said Ben. “Grandpa Max would never spank us.”

Dor bit her lip again, certain she’d overstepped herself now. “I’m sorry for that,” she said. “It wasn’t my place.”

“Sure it was!” said Gwen. “I thought it was great.”

“No,” said Ben. “It’s not that. It’s just…” he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “He wants me to be more responsible. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Dor patted the boy’s shoulder. “If you forgive me for spanking you out of turn, then I agree your grandfather need not know about your misbehavior.”

Ben grinned up at her. “Oh, that’s all right. You were just trying to defend a helpless little dweeb after all.”

“I’m not helpless!” Gwen said. “Dor, would you spank him again please?”

Dor chuckled and blushed. “Only if he earns it.”

They walked in silence for a while, then Ben said, “I guess I did kind of deserve it.”

After a few minutes more, they emerged from the woods into a clearing where a portly older man in a loud red shirt sat at a camp fire, tending a cooking meal. Though Dor had recently eaten with Minwu and Li, the food smelled wonderful.

The rest of the clearing was taken up by a large vehicle, much like the ones she’d seen in Jubilee’s New York City, but twice as tall and three times as long.

“Grandpa Max, we found someone in the woods!” said Gwen.

“She popped right out of my watch,” said Ben.

Both children hurried eagerly to the man who stood, brushing off pants. Dor approached shyly.

“She’s a mage, grandpa,” said Gwen. “Like that guy Hex, but much nicer.”

“Is that right?” He stepped forward and held out a hand. “I’m Max Tennyson. These are my grandchildren.”

Dor’s hand was enveloped in his and he shook firmly.

“My name is Dorothy Alice Wendy. But you can call me Dor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dor. Now, if you don’t mind my asking, how is it a mage came to emerge from an alien device?”

Dor cleared her throat. “I’m not certain on that myself. You see, sir, I can travel between planes of existence.”

“She said there’s more than one version of Earth, grandpa,” said Gwen. “Isn’t that fascinating?”

Grandpa Max smiled. “It is.” He gestured at Dor. “Please, continue.”

“I get the impression it’s not the same for all planeswalkers, but I travel the multiverse though a concept known as L-Space.”

Grandpa Max nodded. “The idea that enough words concentrated in one place can bend reality.”

Dor’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re familiar with L-Space?”

“Only the theory.”

Dor was impressed. “But I don’t know why that means I should have emerged from this device rather than where I was going. I was pulled off track. I’ve planeswalked without L-Space before, but that was planeswalking blind. This time I was trying to go somewhere specific and was trapped off course by a bunch of books describing alien species.” Dor pointed at Ben’s wrist. “But that device doesn’t look like a library to me.”

“But maybe it is,” said Gwen, tone excited.

“Uh, no,” said Ben. “It’s a transformation doohickey.”

“But maybe, if it holds the information of ten different aliens, it’s enough like a library to mess up Dor’s magic.”

Dor pursed her lips in thought. “There’s a lot more than ten,” she said mildly.

But Ben and Gwen had begun bickering and didn’t hear her.

“All right, that’s enough,” said Grandpa Max. “Let’s eat and go to bed. The nearest library is in Montrose, a couple hours’ drive from here. I suppose that’s where you’ll want to go?” He looked at Dor.

Dor nodded shyly.

“Well, there’s always room for unexpected guests at the Tennyson campfire. Have a seat, young lady.”

Dinner was a peculiar affair of fish patties between soft bread with vegetables and sauces she’d never had before. The children made faces at it, but Dor thought it was delicious, if odd.

“She can stay in the camper with me, Grandpa.” Gwen said.

“That sounds fine,” said Grandpa Max.

Max and Ben retired to the tent, and Gwen opened the door to the vehicle, the camper she’d called it.

“There’s a foldout bed in the back,” said Gwen, gesturing to the rear of the vehicle where a bed had been set up. “I can take the couch.” She patted a narrow bench next to a small table.

“That doesn’t look quite long enough for you,” Dor said.

“It’s all right,” Gwen said. “I’ve slept on it before.”

“I don’t want to put you out of your bed.”

“It’s fine, really. I owe you one for smacking that brat’s bottom.” Gwen grinned.

Dor blushed.

“Besides, you can do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Could you teach me? To do magic, I mean.”

Dor shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I’ve only been at it for about six months now. As far as I know, the ability to use magic is inherent. I’ve had a few teachers, but only briefly and I am by no means an expert. Do you think you have magic inherently?”

Gwen nodded excitedly. “On one of our adventures, I had this charm and it made me really lucky, but I felt something inside, you know? Something that wasn’t the charm.” She blushed and looked away. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Dor. “But I know where we can start.”

Dor changed into her yellow Hufflepuff nightie while Gwen changed into a pair of pale blue pajamas. They sat together on the bed at the back of the vehicle, legs crossed, facing each other.

“From what I’ve learned, the basics of magic are about focus, imagination, and metaphor. How’s your imagination?”

“Um. Good, I think?”

Dor nodded. “All right. I want you to close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine a room in your mind. It can be simple. It can be complex. Either way, it must be yours.” Dor took a slow deep breath. It was interesting to her that twice in the past two days she was teaching someone to focus with the room in their mind, a technique she’d only recently learned and certainly hadn’t mastered. “Breath in… imagine the room… breath out… Can you see it?”

“Sort of,” said Gwen.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, it’s just a metaphor,” said Dor. “Now imagine in that room, something that symbolizes your magic. For me, it’s a book, but for you it might be something else. Perhaps a candle flame. Or a bowl of water. Or…”

“What about a cat?”

Dor hadn’t expected that, but she nodded. “All right. That cat, describe it to me.”

“She’s a black cat with bright green eyes, like mine. And yours.” Gwen giggled. “She’s got a long tail that crooks like a question mark. Her paws are soft, but her claws are sharp.”

“Excellent. Focus on the cat. Breathe in, slowly… Look into its eyes… Let the breath… out… slowly…”

For several moments, they breathed together slowly.

“Do you feel anything?” Dor asked. She waited several breaths before opening her eyes. Gwen lay, curled on the bed, fast asleep.

In the morning, Grandpa Max fried up the left over fish burgers and brewed coffee. Dor availed herself of the burgers but was especially grateful for the coffee. The kids had some packaged snacks they shared. Dor got the impression from their surreptitious looks they weren’t supposed to have them, but she didn’t say anything. On the ride down from the mountain campground Dor sat in the back with Gwen and walked her though meditation while Ben sat up front with Grandpa Max. Despite the rumble of the vehicle and the bumps in the road, they were able to focus their minds. Gwen described her black cat with green eyes and black fur.

“And a sheen of violet,” Gwen added.

Dor let herself see the room in her mind, though she didn’t go there fully. She could see her grimoire upon the table, though she didn’t open it. She felt the tingle along her shoulders and the warmth in her chest, though she did not pull at her magic.

“Do you feel anything?” Dor asked. “For me it’s a sort of tingle.”

“It’s like a word,” said Gwen. “A word I can’t quite remember, just on the tip of my tongue. Like if I’m trying to write an essay… Sometimes if I can go back to the beginning and try again, I can trick my brain into remembering. But It’s just not… I can’t quite…”

They kept at it for an hour or so before Gwen confessed she couldn’t concentrate any more.

“I almost had it,” she said, despondent.

“It’s okay,” said Dor. “A friend of mine, my first teacher, she told me I had to learn to control my magic, otherwise it would spill from me accidently. Which is what happened. You are already learning, which means you’re way ahead of me.”

Gwen smiled.

Dor admired the view as they drove down from the pine-tree covered mountains, through canyons alongside a rushing river, and into a high scrubby desert. The canyons were tall and craggy with trees clinging here and there, the stratified rock blue and grey and red. The desert was dusty brown with dots of sage in green, yellow, and purple. From a distance, the town was a smudge of emerald hugging the shining ribbon of a river.

Grandpa Max found a sidestreet to park his large vehicle and they walked the block and a half to the Montrose central library.

“We’re just dropping Dor off, right?” said Ben. “We’re not actually going to go in the library? It’s summer break!”

“You don’t like libraries?” said Dor.

Ben rolled his eyes.

“I can hardly believe he’s my cousin,” said Gwen.

“Come on, Ben, it won’t hurt to look around. Besides, I want to make sure Dorothy gets off safely,” Grandpa Max said.

“I appreciate that, but I’m sure everything will be fine,” said Dor. Even so, she blushed warmly to hear the concern in his tone. They’d just met, but she wished he was her grandfather.

On a grassy strip, in the shade of a large tree, a woman sat upon a spread blanket with a small child, enjoying a picnic. Behind them, the library was a sprawling, two story building with tall windows, a clock tower, and a sculpture at the entry that spun in the gentle desert breeze.

Dor was distracted by the furtive movement a young man in a black, hooded shirt approaching the mother and child. Something about the way he moved, the way he held his shoulders, the way he shifted his eyes, made her think he was up to no good. And a few moments later when he dashed up to the woman and snatched a bag from beside her, Dor knew she'd been right.

The woman gasped, startled.

“Hey, he just…” Dor said.

“I got it!” shouted Ben. He tapped at his device and twisted a dial; a circular section of the device popped up like a telescope. “Come on, XLR8, it’s hero time!” He slammed the device with his other hand. In an explosion of green light, the untidy boy disappeared and in his place stood a tall crystalline golem. It was broad-shouldered, sharp-edged, and wore a black bodysuit that left its arms bare, with the green hourglass symbol upon its chest. The being was composed entirely of teal-colored crystal with a fin-like protrusion from the back of its head.

Ben, now a crystalline golem, looked down at himself and shrugged. “I can work with this.”

The young man in the black hood sprinted away from the woman, bag tucked under his arm, the woman shouting after him, the child sobbing. But in his haste to get away, the thief hadn’t realized he was charging almost right at a large, crystalline golem.

“Why does he call this one ‘Accelerate’?” Dor asked.

Gwen snickered. “This one’s Diamondhead. Ben doesn’t know how to use that thing properly. He’s always getting the wrong alien.”

“Whatever, guys. I can handle this,” said Diamondhead. He pointed at the young thief, just now noticing them. “Drop it!” Diamondhead shouted.

The thief, not much older than a boy really, skidded to a stop so fast he landed hard on his backside.

The arm Diamondhead used to point at the thief shifted and grew with a sound like a marble on glass. In moments, his hand was replaced with a long crystalline blade.

The sound sent a shiver down Dor’s spine and across her shoulders and a faint pulsing buzz at the base of her skull. Dor couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that just the night before she had spanked his little bottom and now here he was being a hero and the thought sparked a buzz along her backside. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to lose that feeling, trying to encourage it. In her mind’s eye she saw her grimoire sitting closed on the table. And she saw a card like the ones in her grimoire, but washed out and greyscale. She didn’t know what to do, so she tried to nothing and after a moment, the card flushed with color, art, and text, like taking a deep breath.

Ben’s Petrosapien       

Cost:    2W

Type:    Elemental Creature – Earth Golem

Text:     W: This gets first strike until end of turn. (It deals combat damage before creatures without first strike.)

U: This gets hexproof until end of turn. (It can’t be the target of spells or abilities your opponents control.)

P/T:     2/5

“Leave the purse and get out of here,” said Diamondhead.

Dor blinked and watched as the young thief did as he was told, running pell-mell away from the alien form Ben called Diamondhead.

In a muted flash of green light, Ben transformed back to his humanform. He planted his fists on his hips and turned to face them. “How about that? I just stopped a purse snatcher.”

Grandpa Max nodded. “No one got hurt and no buildings were set on fire. That was well done, Ben.”

Dor had to agree. The boy had done well.

Ben took the purse back to the woman, who looked equal parts grateful and nonplussed.

“Hey, what’s that?” said Gwen.

Dor looked at the girl and saw she was pointing at Dor’s hand. When she looked, she found the playing card in her mind was held in her fingers. It was just like when she’d held [Twilight’s Blink] after returning to St. Bridget’s from Equestria. She held it up to look at it. It showed Benjamin Tennyson in his Diamondhead form, fists on hips, chest forward, expression proud. Like the others, it felt thicker and heavier than it was. It felt smooth, like glass, and tasted of crystal.

“It’s a spell,” said Dor.

“A spell to do what? Transform like Ben?”

“I don’t know,” said Dor. “I haven’t seen one quite like this before.”

“May I…” Gwen held out her hand shyly.

“Certainly.” Dor handed the card over.

When she took it, Gwen shivered. “I can feel… something. It’s not quite right. I mean, it’s not quite right for me. It’s almost like a sound, just a bit too low to be heard.”

She handed it back to Dor and when Dor took it, the card dissolved into sparkles of white light with hints of blue.

“Well, now the heroics are out of the way, shall we go inside?” said Grandpa Max.

They found a quiet corner in the basement of the library.

“Travel safe,” said Gwen.

“Yeah, good luck,” said Ben.

Grandpa Max gave her a firm nod.

Dor approached a bookshelf, put her hand on it, and felt the spark of warmth at her chest. The books parted before her as though by magic.

Chapter Text

Jubilee understood her first mission as an X-Man was going to be simple and safe. She understood they wouldn’t send her up against the Brotherhood of Mutants when she was just thirteen years old. She even agreed it was safer, more responsible, to keep junior members on low risk missions. Even so, she couldn’t help but be disappointed at how boring this mission was.

Wandering through an old office building that might have, at one point, been a Weapon X facility, was mind-numbing. All they’d found so far was a bunch of empty computer desks, abandoned cords, bits of trash, and an unsolved rubiks cube.

Squirrel Girl had claimed the rubiks cube.

They were looking for anything left behind. A stray USB drive, or an old floppy disk, or maybe even a hardcopy of something printed on paper. But so far, there’d been no luck. The building was so boring, Jean had let them split up. Squirrel Girl and Shadowcat had taken the offices on the left while Jubilee had taken the offices on the right.

Jean Grey was their field captain on this so-called mission and Jubilee could feel her telepathic touch at the back of her mind. Jean was good about not invading privacy with her telepathic gifts, but Jubilee knew if she needed her fellow junior X-Men, all she had to do was think it.

Jubilee checked the underside of every desk in the cubical farm, but found nothing that could hold data. No computer towers, no thumb drives. Crammed in one corner of the room was a narrow closest which Jubilee fully expected to find empty but for half a broom handle, but when she opened the door she found it crammed with three ring binders. Eyes going wide, she pulled one from the shelf and found it full of paper printed with rows of numbers. Accounting reports maybe. Jubilee had no idea whether or not accounting reports would be any use to the X-Men, but they’d been told to find any information, no matter how mundane. The Professor had friends in legal circles who could make life difficult for Weapon X if they could only find proof of their existence.

She was about to call to Jean with her thoughts when the carefully shelved binders rippled and parted and a girl stumbled through.

Dor squeezed through the narrow corridor in her mind, lined with thick, smooth-spined books of a kind she was unfamiliar, wondering what kind of library she’d find herself in. When the corridor finally widened, it was a surprise. Dor stumbled but was caught by a friendly hand.

Dor smiled when she saw it was Jubilee.

The other girl was dressed in the same thick bodysuit Scott and Jean had worn when they’d rescued them from the mechanical spiders in New York City. The encircled X at her left breast was pink, as was the detailing at her shoulders and collar. She wore a bright yellow jacket over her uniform and a pair of bright pink spectacles. Dor wasn’t sure, but she’d thought Jubilee had grown taller since last she’d see her.

Jubilee pushed her spectacles up on her head. She blinked at Dor several times before breaking into a wide grin. “I never thought I’d see you again. I thought that other girl had taken you away forever.”

“I got rid of her. Sort of.”

“You can tell me all about when we get back to the Institute,” said Jubilee. “Come on. I want to introduce you to the others.” Jubilee grabbed Dor’s hand and pulled her along.

“What is this place?” said Dor, as Jubilee led her though the room.

“We think it’s an old Weapon X facility. We’re looking for anything they might have left behind. These binders are the first thing we found. That makes this mission doubly successful.” She winked at Dor. “Hey guys!” Jubilee called once they reached the hallway. “I found someone and something.”

“Is it someone to fight?” came a pugnacious voice from down the hallway.

“I thought this facility was empty,” said another, milder voice.

Dor looked down the hallway to find a pair of girls coming toward them. One was slim with brunette hair pulled back in a simple tail. The other was short but thick with broad shoulders and chubby cheeks. Further, she had a pair of tall, furry ears poking out from her rusty brown hair and a thick squirrel’s tail poofing out from her backside. Both wore the same black bodysuit Jubilee did. The girl with the tail had green detailing, while the slimmer girl had yellow.

“Stand down, Squirrel Girl,” said Jubilee. “This is my friend, Dor. I met her when we were running away from the sentinels a few months ago. She was kidnapped by an interdimensional pyrokinetic. But she’s back!”

“Aw man,” said Squirrel Girl, slapping her fist into one hand. “I was hoping we’d find someone to punch.”

“This is an important mission, even if we don’t fight anyone.” The new voice came from behind and Dor turned to find Jean Grey just as she remembered her, tall and beautiful with wavy auburn hair Dor could only aspire to, bright blue eyes, and a poised expression. Her black uniform was detailed in blue.

“Dorothy. It’s good to see you again. Are you being pursued?”

Dor shook her head. “I was kind of hoping you all could help me with something, but it’s not dire. And you look like you’re busy.”

“Also,” said Jubilee, “I found some binders. They look like accounting reports, so…” She shrugged.

“Well done, Jubilee,” said Jean, smiling.

“Great,” said Squirrel Girl. “Binders.”

“At least I found something,” said Jubilee, defensive.

Dor frowned at Squirrel Girl, but the other girl grinned. “We’ll show those Weapon X fools whose boss. By stealing their accounting binders!” And she struck a foolish pose.

Shadowcat and Jubilee giggled.

Jean smiled. “Every little bit helps. It’s at least as important to fight Weapon X legislatively as it is physically.” Jean put her hands to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Storm. We’re done searching the building. We’ve found some documents and a friendly. Is the Blackbird ready?”

Between the five of them and some abandoned cardboard boxes, they managed to get the binders downstairs and to the front door in one trip. The sky was overcast and Dor could smell rain on the air. A blacktop courtyard spread from the front door to a ten foot tall wire fence with a wide opening for allowing vehicles. Beyond spread a city with a mass of clumped towers shrouded in the mist of coming rain and distance. Dor didn’t know if this was New York City or some other massive municipality of the far flung future.

“Storm says she’ll be here in two minutes,” said Jean.

Dor’s attention was caught by a man rounding a corner in the distance. He had a lean, hard look to him, with hair shorn short. He wore a dark purple, long-sleeved shirt under a dark harness and wide belt. His pants were dark and worn. He picked up the pace when he saw Dor looking at him, loping with an easy grace.

“Um, is Storm a tall man in a purple shirt?” Dor asked.

Jean looked from the sky to Dor. “What?”

Dor pointed and the junior X-Men girls looked to see the man hurrying toward them.

Jean’s eyes went wide. She took several steps toward the man. “All of you stay behind me.” She put one hand to her head and thrust the other at the man. “Stop where you are.”

The man ignored her warning. He was nearly to the fence. At the pace he’d set he would be upon them soon. Jean made a fist of her hand and jerked it to the left. A panel of fence set upon wheels slid across the opening, closing off their courtyard. The man leapt, clearing the fence like it was nothing.

Dor took a step back, shoulders tingling, and drew her wand. Next to her, Jubilee took her hand, squeezing tight. Dor’s cheeks warmed and her grimoire opened in her mind.

Jean took another step forward.

The man smiled without humor and spread his hands, as though to show he was no threat. “Easy, ladies. My employers simply want to talk.”

Movement on the left caught Dor’s attention and she looked to find more men approaching from the other side, all dressed in dark uniforms and helmets. They did not leap the fence, but they began cutting through the wire.

“More on our right,” Squirrel Girl said, voice high.

“Storm’s almost here,” said Jean. “Just stay together.”

Jubilee squeezed Dor’s hand tighter. Sparks flickered along her fingers.

“So, you’ll come quietly, yes?” said the man.

Jean thrust her hand at him and he stumbled back several steps.

When he regained his feet, he was smiling. “Excellent.” In a quick, practiced movement, he drew a broad-bladed knife from the harness on his chest.

Dor reacted. “Expelliarmus.” She flicked her wand and a dart of light struck the man, knocking the knife from his hand.

He looked stunned at first, then his smile broadened. He loped toward Jean in a strange sort of weaving pattern. Jean took a defensive stance but struck with a balled fist. The air rippled as her telekinetic strike moved the air, but the man dodged aside and darted in, sweeping low and taking Jean’s feet from under her. He was fast and agile and skilled.

Squirrel Girl pounced, hackles bristly, wrapping her arms around the man’s neck, but he slipped and rolled and tossed the girl through the air to the blacktop where she tumbled and yelped. The man looked up at Dor and Jubilee from his crouched position.

Jubilee squeezed Dor’s hand tighter and the warmth in Dor’s cheeks spread through her, growing. She felt like warm wax, melting from within, like clay to be sculpted, like her body had become light.

The gold-bordered [Gems’ Fusion] flickered through her mind.

Gems’ Fusion                                     

Cost:     URW

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Shapeshifter

Text:     Exile two target creatures you control. If you do, create an X/Y creature token where X is the sum of the exiled creatures’ power and Y the sum of their toughness. It has all colors, types, and rules text of the exiled creatures. When this token leaves the battlefield, return cards exiled this way to the battlefield under their owner’s control.

She only had a moment, but she took it. She took it to breathe and know herself. She was different than ever she’d been. Taller, fuller, stronger. Photokinetic sparks danced along her skin. Spells shuffled through her mind. She stretched one pair of arms over her head and cupped her hands, feeling the sparks dance between her palms. She stretched her second pair of arms to the side and felt the light of her body manifest in her grip as a pair of wands: pine, unicorn hair, quite flexible. She opened all four of her eyes as wide as they would go, peering through the pink glass of her shades. The black bodysuit of the X-Men uniform held her new body like it was tailored to her.

The man in the purple shirt backed up several steps, eyes wide.

It began to rain.

The man attacked in a swirling series of kicks, leaping and spinning with adeptness surpassing normal skill. The woman, not quite Dor, not quite Jubilee, moved as Kya had taught her, and pulled the rain from the air around her, moving her arms in broad sweeps, batting aside the man’s kicks with streamers of water. With her upper arms, the flung whistling sparks at the man, impressed by his ability to weave and duck. His skill would soon overwhelm her powers. She needed to do something different.

With a breath and a thought, she teleported behind him in a crack of magic and purple sparkles.

The man intuited her position and swung about with a kick aimed high. It was far off the mark, and she flung another handful of sparks at the man, waiting for him to dodge aside, then flicked one of her wands. A lash of sparking flame sprung forth and caught him around the ankle. He shouted in stunned pain.

She grinned. It felt good to win.

A great whirring pressure pushed at her back and she stumbled forward, losing her grip on her spells. The streamers of water, sparks of light, and lash of fire all dissolved into mana and flickered away.

“Everyone on the Blackbird!” Jean Grey’s mental connection to the back of Jubilee’s mind persisted, shouting both vocally and mentally.

Part of her knew she should get on the plane, that it was time to escape, but another part of her wanted to defeat him, to show him he couldn’t mess with them, that they weren’t afraid. She knew escape was a simple sprint behind her. She could see the men in black tactical armor coming through the fence on the other side of her adversary.

The woman settled into a new waterbending stance as the man got to his feet.

“Get on the plane, now!”

A whipping gale burst from behind and above. And a woman in the black armored uniform of the X-Men, pure white hair a short tuft of mohawk, cape billowing, soared overhead. Lightning flashed around her, striking at the men in tactical armor coming through the fence. Whirlwinds danced at her beck, driving the men back.

Her shoulders tingled and her mind filled.

A shot rang out.

The woman who was half Dorothy, half Jubilation, looked down from the fury of Storm to the man in the purple shirt. He had a pistol aimed at her, still smoking, a grin of triumph tugging at the stubble on his chin. With a flick of one wand, she disarmed him, with the flick of the other she sent him sprawling with a fresh ribbon of water pulled from the rain. She looked down at her chest to where she should have felt pain, but there was nothing.

“Jean said get on the plane.”

To her left stood Katherine Pryde, the Shadowcat, hand on her arm, and the woman realized Shadowcat had saved her life, made her intangible, so the bullet passed straight through her.

“Right.” She let Shadowcat keep a hand on her so they would remain intangible as they turned toward the large black jet, the Blackbird. Its bay door was open, allowing them to hurry aboard. The plane lifted off before they were fully aboard.

Dor felt her chest pounding, panic at her shoulders. They’d nearly been killed.

Jubilee took a deep breath, trying to calm them, but…

In a flash of light, the fusion ended and the girls tumbled to the floor of the plane.

“On your feet, hero,” said Squirrel Girl, pulling Dor off her backside and to a chair against one wall of the aircraft. She pushed Dor into the chair. “Hold still, I’ll strap you in.” A thick heavy harness was buckled over her chest. Dor blinked, dazed. She had been someone else. Someone powerful. Someone confident. It had felt good and she wanted to do it again. But she knew they’d disobeyed Jean Grey, their field captain, and there would be a price to pay for that. She looked to the other side of the aircraft’s cabin to where Jubilee was similarly strapped in by Shadowcat. Jubilee met her gaze with a rueful grin.

Storm, the tall, dark-skinned, white-mohawked powerhouse of the X-Men flew into the cabin of the Blackbird with a gust of wind, eyes clouded and sparking. She strode to the head of the cockpit where Jean sat at the controls. The woman spared a glance for Dor, expression firm. Dor looked away, blushing.

At Xavier’s Institute, Jubilee, Shadowcat, and Squirrel Girl showed her through the halls of the lower levels, which were austere polished metal. They lead her to a large, tiled, shower room where they stripped off their armored uniforms and hung them in narrow, metal wardrobes before turning on a communal shower. The shower was simple and utilitarian. It’s wasn’t magical as the bathrooms at Hogwarts were, but it was far better than anything Dor had experienced at St. Bridget’s.

None of them seemed embarrassed to shower together, so Dor swallowed her own embarrassment and undressed. She joined them in the tiled cubicle, shyly curious. She’d seen Isabel, Sandra, and Aelf naked at Hogwarts, Isabel especially, but this was more blatant. Jubilee was slim and boyish. Shadowcat was thin but curvy. Squirrel Girl was thick and chubby, her tail hanging heavy with water in moments. She had a thick tuft of hair at her loins that tapered in a thin line to just below her belly button. Shadowcat had a few brunette curls. Jubilee was as smooth and hairless as Dor. Dor tried not to let her eyes linger.

 “There’s an extra bed in our suite,” said Jubilee over the pounding water. “You can stay with us tonight. If the Professor says it’s okay, that is. But I don’t see why not, you helped us with a successful mission.”

“Was it?” asked Dor. “Did we get the books?”

“Yup,” said Squirrel Girl. She worked shampoo from a wall mounted dispenser into the fur of her tail vigorously. “Shadowcat comes through again. She’s got a head on her shoulders, that one.”

Shadowcat blushed. “I just grabbed the boxes and phased them onto the Blackbird. You two are the real heroes, fighting off the mercenary.”

“What was that anyway?” said Squirrel Girl. “Is that your power, to combine forms with other mutants?”

Dor shook her head. “It’s a spell. I learned it on another Earth.”

“What?” said Squirrel Girl, planting her fists on her soapy hips.

“You can travel the multiverse?” said Shadowcat.

“She’ll tell you all about it when we’re upstairs,” said Jubilee. She looked at Dor. “Won’t you? I really wanna know what’s happened since that rooftop.”

Dor nodded. “Of course.

The steam from the shower filled their little cubicle, making it warm and close and comfortable. When they were done, Jubilee found them some towels, three for Squirrel Girl, and they all got dressed. The others dressed in casual clothes, denim pants and t-shirts. Shadowcat’s was black with a yellow X inscribed in a circle on her left breast. It reminded Dor of a heraldic symbol.

Dor elected to wear her beige button up and black skirt from her magical laundry bag.

They led Dor to the upper floors, which were dark, polished wood and richly appointed. Shadowcat, Squirrel Girl, and Jubilee shared a suite on the third floor of the dormitories at Xavier’s Institute for the Gifted. Each bedroom had two beds, two chest of drawers, and two desks, and the bedrooms were connected by a shared washroom.

Once they were settled in, Dor told her story from the beginning, Elmira Gulch arriving at St. Bridget’s Orphanage all the way to the book elemental. When she was finished she looked at Jubilee.

“Do you suppose we’re in trouble with Jean?”

“What for?” said Squirrel Girl. “You guys kicked ass!”

“We kind of, deliberately, disobeyed orders,” said Jubilee.

“Oh,” said Squirrel Girl in sympathy, rubbing the backside of her denim shorts.

Not long after, a knock at their door heralded the entry of Jean Grey. She’d changed from her uniform into a pair of denim pants and a long-sleeved blue blouse. Her long, auburn hair was damp and pulled into a messy pony tail, and even that looked good.

“Did Storm send you to spank us?” Jubilee asked.

Dor blushed, both at the mention of spanking and at the other girl’s frankness.

Jean put her hands behind her back adopting a stiff stance. “She sent me to make sure you three remembered to write your accounting of the mission.”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that part,” Squirrel Girl groused.

“Writing an accurate report is important,” Shadowcat said.

Jean looked at Dor. “And she sent me to tell you the Professor says you’re welcome to stay. I told him about our first meeting and today, and both he and Storm are impressed with your loyalty to a friend you’ve only barely met.”

Dor blushed harder.

Jean took a deep breath. “As to your spanking,” she hesitated and the room filled with tension. Jean cleared her throat. “Storm left it up to me, and I’m leaving it up to you.”

Jubilee sighed gustily. “Well, shit.” She looked at Dor. “I guess we’re getting spanked.”

Dor nodded. She couldn’t say they didn’t deserve it. Jean had been clear about falling back and they’d definitely disobeyed. Even though they had been sharing the body of a powerful, confident woman, they should have followed Jean’s instruction.

Jean took a deep breath, like she was about to object, but then she nodded. She stepped back, out of the doorway and to the side, making way for them.

Dor stood, hands folded at her waist.

“Good luck,” said Squirrel Girl thickly.

Shadowcat nodded.

Jubilee led Dor out of the room and down the hall where she waited for Jean, who opened the door on a small study. There was a desk with a mechanical device and a lit screen, a bookshelf packed with books, and a chair.

Jean entered and picked up her straight-backed, armless chair, setting it in the center of her little study. It looked sturdy, a good spanking chair. Dor wondered how many girls at the Institute had been spanked with the help of this chair. She wondered how many more would be. She couldn’t help but be reminded of the stout chair Sister Mary Margaret had used as her spanking chair. But Jean was nothing like Sister Mary Margaret. Like Minwu, Jean Grey was like a loving sister and, though Dor wasn’t looking forward to her impending spanking, she didn’t fear it either.

Jean sat. “Dorothy. You’re not part of the X-Men. Our disciplinary methods probably aren’t what you’re used to…”

Dor shook her head. “I heard your instruction just as well as Jubilee. We both chose to disobey. If she deserves a spanking, so do I.”

Jean nodded. “Then I take it neither of you needs to be scolded on the topic of following orders?”

Both shook their heads.

“Very well. Jubilee…”

Jubilee stepped forward and unbuttoned her denim shorts. She pushed them to her knees where they fell to her ankles and she could step out of them. She was such a fiery personality, Dor was surprised to realize how small she was. Standing in a worn old t-shirt and bright pink panties, X-Men X prominent upon the seat, she looked awfully small.

Dor sniffled, fighting back preemptive tears.

Jubilee went to Jean and bent over the tall girl’s lap.

Jean didn’t waste time. She pulled Jubilee’s panties down, baring her slim bottom and held her securely around the waist. She slapped her hand against Jubilee’s bare bottom and Dor was surprised by how mild it seemed. She’d expected Jean to be as proficient a spanker as Minwu. But as the auburn haired girl continued, Dor realized Jean’s spanking was faster than it was hard, that the quick, sharp spanks were just as effective at setting a bottom afire. She watched as Jubilee squirmed and whimpered then kicked and groaned, then bucked and cried, her bottom bright scarlet.

When Jean stopped, Jubilee hopped to her feet and rubbed her bottom vigorously, tears streaming down her face. She went to a corner without being told and stood there, crying.

Before Jean could tell her to, Dor wiped the tears she’d already shed from her cheeks and approached. She unzipped her beige skirt and let it fall to her feet, kicking it aside, and lay over Jean’s lap. Jean didn’t have a broad lap, but still Dor found that, once her palms were flat on the floor, her tippy toes barely touched the other side. Her damp auburn braids crumpled to the floor around her head. Jean’s grip on her waist was firm. Her fingers at the waist of her panties were gentle.

When her bottom was bare, Dor’s tears flowed freely. She didn’t try to stop them.

The first several spanks were a stinging flurry. Dor tensed and tried not to cry out, tried not to squirm. She was successful for a while, but soon the sting built to a burn and Dor knew she’d be no better at taking a spanking from Jean than she had from Sister Mary Margaret or Minwu or Professor Sparkle. Soon she squirmed and cried under Jean’s fiery palm.

When it was over, Jean hugged them both and they redressed. Jubilee took Dor’s hand as they went back down the hall to her room. Squirrel Girl and Shadowcat were waiting for them and there was another round of hugging.

“Jean’s great,” said Squirrel Girl. “I love her like she were my own big sister. But she’s a mean spanker.”

“No she’s not,” Dor said. Her tone was harsher than she’d meant. The other girls looked at her askance. “I’m sorry. I just… At the orphanage, Sister Mary Margaret was a mean spanker. She spanked for no reason and she never hugged me afterward. Jean is lovely.”

“Oh,” said Squirrel Girl. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that she’s, uh, really good at it. I’m sorry, Dor.”

Dor shook her head. “I misunderstood.”

Shadowcat hugged her again and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Sounds awful.”

Squirrel Girl cleared her throat. “Our little Kitty’s never been spanked.”

“That’s not true,” Shadowcat said, tone defensive.

Jubilee and Squirrel Girl looked at her in stunned silence.

Shadowcat blushed and hunched her shoulders.

After several moments when no one said anything, Dor cleared her throat. “Do… do you want to share the story?”

Shadowcat grinned. “A few months ago, I… I might have used my powers to sneak into Kurt’s room and throw all his underwear in the pool.”

Jubilee’s eyes went wide.

Squirrel Girl snorted. “I’d wondered who’d done that!”

“It was revenge for his teleporting into the changing room that time. Remember?”

Squirrel girl nodded. “I heard Cyc lit his butt up good for that one.”

Shadowcat nodded. “Jean figured out it was me and I couldn’t lie to her.” She sighed. “So she spanked me, pulled down my panties and everything. I totally deserved it, but it was totally worth it.”

They chatted into the evening and until it grew late and they decided to turn in. Shadowcat and Squirrel Girl went through the shared bathroom to their own bedroom. Dor and Jubilee changed into their nighties. Dor sneaked a peak at Jubilee and blushed. Lying in bed, bottom warm, sleep claimed her quickly.

Chapter Text

Dor dreamed of the room in her mind.

A green bound book with the black and green hourglass symbol of Ben Tennyson’s alien device sat on the table in the room in her mind. Under the symbol was a single word: Petrosapien. It was the alien form Ben called Diamondhead, the same Dor now had access to in her grimoire.

Petrosapiens are a species of silicon-based lifeforms from the planet Petropia. There are two subspecies: the surface Petrosapiens and their Subsapien ancestors. Both species are distantly related to the Antrosapiens.

Petrosapiens are composed of a diamond-like material ranging in color from blue to green. They are, on average, 2 meters tall. They have four digits on their hands and none on their feet. Surface Petrosapiens are lean and thin, with square bodies and limbs. Subsapiens, are large with wide bodies and thick limbs. Some Subsapiens have crystal growths on their foreheads.

Dor could have sat and read about petrosapiens for hours on end. Perhaps she did. But in the way of dreams, after several pages, Dor found the green book had become her grimoire. The playing cards in their translucent pockets had shifted again. A new gold-bordered playing card had joined [Gems’ Fusion].

Storm’s Salvo 

Cost:     UUR

Type:    Elemental Sorcery – Lightning Wind

Text:     Choose one or both—

This deals 3 damage to any target.

Return target artifact, creature, or planewalker to its owner’s hand.

In the art, Storm hovered against an overcast sky, cape abillow, mohawk windblown, eyes like ice and lightning at her fingertips. She was proud and powerful and Dor remembered what that felt like. She wanted to feel that way again. The tingle of magic along her shoulders intensified. The gold-bordered card was in her fingers, smooth and cool, buzzing like lightning. She knew all it would take was for her to channel her power down her arm and through the card and she could manifest the power of Storm.

“Please don’t do that, Dorothy.”

Dor blinked, casting the vestiges of the dream from her. She sat in the room in her mind, [Storm’s Salvo] in hand. She’d been about to cast the spell. She could feel herself, lying still and quiet in the extra bed in Jubilee’s room and realized how disastrous it would have been to send wind and lightning about the small space.

“There we are. Thank you for waking up.”

Dor looked from the card to a man sitting across from her at the table in the room in her mind. He was an older gentleman with a smooth pate and a patient smile.

“You’re the Professor, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Charles Xavier. Pleasure to meet you, Dorothy.”

“Thank you for letting me stay in your home, sir.”

“Certainly. And thank you for making sure my junior X-Men were unharmed today.”

Dor blushed. Surely the Professor knew Jean had spanked them this evening for disobeying orders. And yet he praised her. It was an interesting dichotomy, and not unwelcome.

“I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion,” the Professor continued. “I don’t lightly enter others’ minds.”

“Not at all,” said Dor. “I don’t like casting spells accidently.”

“I’ll let you get back to sleep then. Would you like me to help you on your way?”

“You can do that? Yes, sir, that’d be lovely. But, may I ask a favor first?”

The Professor looked surprised, but nodded. “Very well.”

“I’ve, uh, inherited a trove of stolen artifacts and I want to return them. But I don’t know which version of which world they belong to. A friend of mine on another world suggested a telepath might help figure out how to read these cards.” She opened her grimoire to the pages of artifacts, full art, no text but for their titles, and pushed the book toward him.

The Professor’s expression turned quizzical. “Isn’t this a fascinating puzzle…” He spent several moments that might have been minutes, that might have been longer, carefully turning the pages with his slender-fingered hands. After a time, he looked at her. “Dorothy. I’d like to think on this for a time, if I may.”

“Of course,” said Dor. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her gently, the way she imagined a kind grandfather might, and Dor slipped back through the books in her mind, dreaming of carefully organized shelves in dim hallways and quiet whispers.

For the first thirteen years of her life, Dor had dreamed of impossible people in impossible places doing impossible things. But since tumbling off the roof at St. Bridget’s and slipping through the Blind Eternities, those dreams had stopped. When she woke in the morning, Jubilee breathing gently in her bed nearby, Dor remembered a dream of a stern master in celestial robes. He frowned at her and beckoned her and she shied from him. The memory made her shiver when she woke, laying still and quite in her borrowed bed.

Dor slipped from bed, and made her way to the shared bathroom. There, she undressed and checked her backside in the mirror. It was unblemished, no sign of spanking. She took a quick, hot shower and dried off with a towel stacked on the counter. When she emerged, Jubilee was sitting up in bed, a small, tablet like device in her hands.

Jubilee looked up at Dor. “Oh, good. I need to get in there before Squirrel Girl…”

But the other entrance to the bathroom opened and the chubby girl with the furry pointed ears and big furry tail entered. Her eyes were squinty and her cheeks puffy and she looked cranky. “Mornin’,” she growled, before closing the door firmly and clicking the lock.

Jubilee sighed. “Guess I’ll get my shower after breakfast.”

They got dressed, Dor from her magical laundry bag, Jubilee from her chest of drawers. Jubilee selected a pair of bright green panties, the X inscribed circle prominent upon the seat. Dor felt a twinge of jealousy.

It seemed everywhere she went, people had symbols to identify them. The Hufflepuffs’ badger. Ben Tennyson’s green hourglass. The X-Men’s simple X. Twilight Sparkle had her symbol emblazoned upon her flank. Dor had felt welcomed by Minwu, the Chens, the Hufflepuffs, and the X-Men, but it was a stark reminder she had no family name, no symbol of her own.

“Jubilee, can I ask, did the Institute provide your clothes?”

“Sure,” said Jubilee. “I was running away, remember? I had nothing. And the sentinels wrecked my room. The Bookcliffs didn’t want anything to do with me after that. So, everything I’ve got, the Professor’s given me. Even my undies.” She slapped her own bottom playfully. “But that’s all right. They’re great here, Dor. Honestly. Even though there are occasional spankings.”

Dor nodded.

“Hey, do you have enough clothes?” Jubilee asked, concerned. “I’ll bet they’ve got some your size. We can ask Jean. She took me to a big sort of closet when I first arrived.”

After some rigmarole of getting ready for the day, the girls took Dor down to the dining hall. Nothing could compare to the splendor of Hogwarts but the mansion in which Xavier’s Institute was housed was well-appointed by the standards of Dor’s time. In fact, though this Earth was far in the future from hers, she got the impression the mansion dated back to her time if not earlier.

The dining hall was utilitarian, with long, plain tables and a large kitchen from which they could scoop food, already cooked, onto their plates. Dor selected scrambled eggs and crispy bacon and flat cakes with syrup. She got a large mug and filled it with coffee from a steaming pot.

They found their way to a table where Jubilee introduced her to a slew of other junior X-Men. There was Bobby Drake, Iceman, a handsome blond boy with warm blue eyes. Betsy Braddock, Psylock, a pale girl with thin eyes and long, dark purple hair. Remy LeBeau, Gambit, a tall, charming boy with black and red eyes. Rhane Sinclare, Wolfsbane, a shaggy girl with brown hair and pronounced canines. And on it went: Nightcrawler and Rogue and Colossus and Siryn, and after a while Dor had a hard time keeping them all straight.

And each of them made her feel welcome.

They shook her hand or patted her back or smiled good-naturedly. Some were rowdy, some shy, some kind, some aloof, but none made her uncomfortable or looked down on her. They all assumed she was the newest addition to the X-Men. It was not unlike being welcomed into the Hufflepuffs or invited to the dueling club. She mentally chided herself for having felt like she didn’t belong.

They had finished breakfast and deposited their plates in the kitchen when Jean and Scott approached them. Even out of uniform, Scott wore a pair of ruby red spectacles. Dor wondered if it was part of his being a mutant. No mutant she’d met so far seemed to have anything in common other than the label.

Scott smiled and shook her hand. “Nice job yesterday. If you stick around this time, we’ll teach you how to follow orders.”

Dor smiled shyly.

“Dorothy, the Professor asked me to speak with you,” said Jean. “He has assigned me to help you with your mental puzzle. He says it’ll be good practice for me. But before that, I’m to give you a tour of the Institute.”

A chime rang through the halls and those not already wrapping up their breakfast hurried to do so. Scott clapped his hands and chivied the other students good-naturedly. When everyone was on their way, Scott turned to Jean.

“Are we still on for the Danger Room this afternoon?” He sounded hopeful.

Jean blushed gently and nodded. “It will depend on how my morning with Dorothy goes, but I’m planning on it, yes.”

Scott smiled, his own cheeks coloring faintly. “Good. Excellent. See you there.”

Jean lead Dor through the expansive hallways of the mansion while explaining that Professor Charles Xavier had founded the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth to help young mutants learn to control their gifts and as refuge against a world that viewed mutants with, at best, suspicion. She explained that, at sixteen years old, she and Scott were the eldest of the students and had been elected student co-presidents. She showed Dor through the dormitory wings and the classrooms. Though the teachers were all busy, Jean pointed out Angel, a fair-haired man with great white wings who taught Mathematics and Business; Beast, a hulking, blue-furred man who taught Science; Logan, a gruff man who taught Physical Education and Combat Basics; and Storm, who taught Global Studies.

Storm looked up as the girls peered into her classroom. In dark slacks and a pale grey blazer, she looked far less intimidating than she had in battle. She even gave them a small smile.

Next, Jean showed Dor to a large supply closet. “Jubilee said you might not have enough clothes,” she explained. Jean helped Dor pick through the stacks of clothing. The t-shirts and skirts were easy, but finding the right kind of denim pants, bluejeans she called them, required several rounds of trying them on. Jean also helped her pick out a variety of brassieres, some cute and lacey, some plain and utilitarian, some firm and snug. Dor hadn’t known such a variety existed. Finally, there were the panties in all shades of colors, each with the circle-inscribed X either subtly upon their elastic waistbands or prominent upon their seats. Dor chose some of each in purple.

Dor was embarrassed to change in front of the tall girl. Jean was extraordinarily pretty and Dor felt very plain next to her. She changed shyly as Jean continued to root about in the clothes, and an hour or so later she had a neat stack of brand new clothing.

Finally, Jean took Dor to the library, the same library Dor had seen when she’d first walked through L-Space. There were rows of shelves on either side with tables and chairs in the center and tall windows along the back wall. Jean lead Dor to a small side room. She fiddled with a panel on the wall, diming the lights. The room reminded Dor of the study room she’d used at Hogwarts and the one she and Twilight Sparkle has used at Canterlot. She was beginning to wonder if every proper library had such a room.

Jean kicked off her shoes and sat near the center of the room, legs crossed, and Dor did the same, tucking her charcoal grey Hogwarts skirt under her backside. She blushed to show off her bare knees, but kind of hoped Jean would notice. The thought made her blush harder. Surely the older girl was interested in the painfully handsome Scott Summers. Besides, Dor had feelings for Kya.

“Dorothy, before we begin, I have to apologize,” said Jean.

Dor cleared her throat and tried to focus. “To me? What for?”

“That night, a few months ago, on the rooftop. We should have fought harder for you. I should have fought harder for you. Scott and I, it was one of our first real missions. We were sent to rescue a single mutant girl from the sentinels. When there were two of you, I… panicked. So when the pyrokinetic arrived to take you away… Between me and Cyclops and Storm, we could have fought her off. We could have protected you. But I told the others to hold off. I was afraid of the complication.”

Jean cleared her throat.

“It’s not your fault,” said Dor. “Mr. Quillon sent Elmira though the multiverse after me. He was awful, and she was awful, but they’re both gone now and…”

“It’s not that,” said Jean. “I made the call to leave you behind. And I want you to know, I’ve regretted it ever since. I’ll never do that again.”

Dor reached out to the other girl and Jean took her head. “Thank you.”

Jean smiled, then cleared her throat, releasing Dor’s hand. “The Professor tells me you’re experienced with meditation, that you’ve a mental construct for organizing your thoughts. With your permission, I’d like to touch my mind to yours.”

Dor nodded. With a breath and a thought, she was sitting in the room in her mind, book-crammed shelves lining the walls, over-stuffed chair in one corner, study table taking up the center. The door at one end that lead to the vast multiverse was a warm spark in her chest. But it all felt cramped, like the walls were too close, the books out of order, the table too big. It was because she was distracted, thinking about Jean, about Kya…

A knock came from the door in her mind, and Dor knew it was Jean. With a thought she opened the door and Jean entered. The tall girl looked around and stepped up to the shelves to examine the book titles.

“You can read these?” Jean asked.

Dor nodded. “Can’t you?”

Jean shook her head. “It’s like I’m in a dream. It sort of makes sense when I look at it, but as soon as my eyes go to the next word, it’s all different.”

Dor joined the other girl and looked at the books. Standing close to Jean made her skin tingle.

To Dor, the titles all made perfect sense: Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland, The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Though she didn’t know the books, she was excited to read them just by the titles. One of them even bore one of her names, Alice.

“The Professor said you had a sort of spell book. May I see it?”

Dor ran her eyes along the shelf until she found her grimoire and withdrew it. She handed it to Jean and they both sat at the table.

“The playing cards are a sort of metaphor for the powers I’ve learned by observation,” Dor said. “I showed Minwu the spells I learned from her and she said it felt like a compact version of what she knew.”

Jean took her time with each card in turn, and Dor took the time to reexamine [Ben’s Petrosapien]. While each other card was labeled either a Sorcery or an Enchantment, this card was labeled a Creature. She didn’t know what that meant. Would it summon a version of the crystalline golem to stand at her side? Would it transform her into a version of that creature?

Jean withdrew [Jubilee’s Dazzler]. “When did you learn this one?”

“In the alleyway in New York City, fighting the mechanical spiders.”

Jean replaced the card and turned the page. She touched [Gems’ Fusion]. “Is this what you used when you and Jubilee… combined?”

Dor nodded.

“What was it like?”

“Strange and wonderful. It was like I was someone else, but still, part of me was in there. We were powerful together. Strong and confident. That’s… that’s why we disobeyed. We didn’t want that jerk to think he’d gotten the better of us. We knew we could beat him.”

[Storm’s Salvo] had taken its place after [Gems’ Fusion].

“And this?”

“I just learned that one yesterday, when Storm flew in to save us. I haven’t tried to cast it yet.”

“And all you had to do to learn it was to see it?”

Dor shrugged. “I don’t really know. I saw Twilight Sparkle blast timberwolves with beams of magic, watched Protego and Stupify cast over and over, I watched you fight with energy from your mind, and didn’t learn any of it. I don’t know if it happens when I’m focused or relaxed or if there’s any discernable pattern at all.”

Jean put a hand on Dor’s back and rubbed gently. Dor realized her voice had gone high and plaintive. She blushed and hunched her shoulders.

“It’s all right Dorothy. As I understand it, you’ve only just started to learn about your powers. You don’t need to be an expert right away. That’s what we’re here for, to learn.”

Dor nodded and blinked, trying not to cry.

Jean turned back a page. “If I might make a recommendation.” She tapped [Pince’s Catalogue]. “This one feels like something I might do to settle my thoughts.”

“It’s a spell of mental organization,” Dor said, chiding herself. She should have thought of that. She took a breath. “Catalog Cogitatus,” she said softly, remembering the words Madam Pince had spoken. “Catalog Cogitationes meas.” The room in her mind expanded like a breath, and settled. The books that had seemed overstuffed a moment before now felt meticulous.

“Nice,” said Jean. She turned the pages of Dor’s grimoire until they reached the stolen artifacts. “Why don’t you choose one for us to start with?”

Dor plucked Camelot’s Excalibur from its pocket.

“The sword of King Arthur,” said Jean. “I don’t suppose you’re a time traveler?”

Dor shook her head. She explained about parallel earths and alternate earths and how the year where she came from was nineteen-o’eight. “But then there are worlds that aren’t even Earth. And at least one of them has a legend about a sword called Excalibur, so…” Dor swallowed hard and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

Jean rubbed her back again. “There’s no rush, Dorothy. Let’s focus on just this card. Everything on the first two pages is a spell, an action you can take, a way to focus the energy in your body through your mind. Correct?”

Dor had never thought of it quite like that, but it sounded accurate and she nodded.

“But these cards are something else,” Jean continued.

Dor nodded again.

“Explain them to me.”

“Silas Quillon was a Time Master from a universe called Earth-1. He was sentenced to a mindcage that became the Infinite Library and with the Infinite Library he was able to discover and steal a variety of artifacts from across the multiverse. He showed them to me once. He kept them in display cases. When the Infinite Library collapsed, it was anchored to my use of L-Space. At least, that’s what Minwu thinks.

“He told me there are more variations of Earth than any other plane of existence. That on some of those versions, King Arthur and his magical sword were real. He also told me he convinced the Lady of the Lake to give him this version.” Dor tapped the card. “I don’t know if he was telling the truth about any of that.”

“In my experience,” said Jean, “It is extraordinarily difficult to lie mind to mind. If this Quillon person were here, we could probe his mind for the truth. But mental energy is not exclusive to a sentient mind. Sometimes an item of great import can carry a sort of mental echo of those for whom it was especially important. I should think Excalibur, of any variation, will be one of those items.”

Dor felt her chest expand and her shoulders ease, relief tingling down her spine. That there might be a way to right Mr. Quillon’s wrongs felt good. “So what do we do?”

“We focus,” said Jean. She tapped at the table with a knuckle. “This is a mental construct, right? I’m used to meditating by sitting on the floor. Could you, perhaps, put the table away for a while?”

“Oh, um…” With her mind focused by [Pince’s Catalogue], Dor realized it’d be easy to do. She put both hands on the table and imagined a sort of closet where it could go with no more effort than a thought. In the next moment it was gone. Jean and Dor sat cross-legged, facing each other, the grimoire on the floor between them, closed, and the card entitled Camelot’s Excalibur resting upon the front cover.

Jean held her hands out to Dor and Dor took them unselfconsciously. When their hands touched so too did their surface thoughts.

“Focus on the card and the artifact it represents. Focus on where it’s been, what it’s done and who has held it. There may be many versions of Earth, of King Arthur, of Excalibur, but we must focus on this one. Thought. Emotion, Deed. All can echo through time and space. All we have to do is sit and listen.”

Dor took a long, slow, quiet breath. She held it, her chest thumping gently, a quiet rhythm for a quiet mind. She parted her lips and released the breath slowly, letting it go in time to her heartbeat. She let the rhythm fill her until it dictated the rate of her breath and pricked at her skin. With each breath in and each breath out, the rhythm slowed until between one and the next, everything went still. There was naught but her thought and Jean’s and the great expanse of the cosmos like a delicate sphere not an arm’s length away, and beyond was the Blind Eternities.

Between her thought and Jean’s, Camelot’s Excalibur hummed like vibrating metal, just at the edge of hearing. And somewhere beyond the Blind Eternities, another sphere hummed in response.

Dor gasped, both pleased and surprised, and the moment ended. Dor fell into herself and blinked in the dimly lit study room at Jean, who blinked back at her.

Jean smiled. “Well done, Dorothy.”

“What do you mean?” Dor shook her head, frustrated. “I lost focus. I ruined it.”

“Dor, we just cast our consciousness into the multiverse, and the multiverse responded. I never expected to meet with such success so quickly. I expected it would take weeks to get anywhere near that kind of result.”

That mollified Dor.

Jean stretched her arms behind her back and stood gracefully. She went to the wall panel and tapped at it to raise the lights. “Oh. It’s already 4:30 in the afternoon. I’ve missed my training session Scott.”

“Sorry,” said Dor.

Jean waved a hand. “Not at all. This was endlessly more fascinating. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

Dor fit in at Xavier’s Institute just as well as with the Chens and the Hufflepuffs. She sat with Jubilee, Shadowcat, and Squirrel Girl at dinner then joined them in one of the common rooms afterward to play a boardgame called Monopoly with Psylocke and Nightcrawler. Dor didn’t understand it, but she played along and lost gamely. Some of the junior X-Men were in another room watching a film on a futuristic device, some in yet another room played billiards, still others had gone to their dormrooms early.

At ten o’clock, Cyclops called curfew.

That night, Dor borrowed paper and a pen to write letters to Madam Pince, Professor Sprout, Isabel, and the Hufflepuffs. After Jubilee fell asleep, Dor used L-Space and the warmth at her chest to planeswalk to the Hogwarts library where she placed the notes on Madam Pince’s desk. The Hogwarts Library was dim and quiet. Snow fell thickly outside the windows.

The next morning, Dor meditated with Jean and though they were able to get the card of Excalibur to resonate with some far, distant point in the Multiverse, they made no more progress than they had before. Jean had class with the Professor that afternoon, leaving Dor free. Dor took the opportunity to visit Minwu’s cottage, but the woman wasn’t present and Dor didn’t want to disrupt her if she was in class. She took to wandering the halls of Xavier’s Institute then out onto the grounds, reveling in the warmth of summer.

Grunts and shouts of pain took her attention and she made her way to a grassy sort of courtyard tucked behind the mansion where a group of junior X-Men crowded around a pair tussling hand to hand. They were all clad in the black, close-fitting armor of Xavier’s Institute, each with detailing in some other personalized color.

Dor hunched in on herself. There had been conflicts between girls at the orphanage, sometimes even fights. Dor had tried to avoid them but had more than once been on the rough end of a girl who wanted to shove her around. She was surprised none of the others intervened. She’d gotten the impression at breakfast that everyone here was pretty friendly with everyone else.

One of the students managed to pull the other off balance and flip them onto their back on the grass. The flipped student cried out and Dor realized it was Jubilee. Dor’s resolve stiffened and with a sudden, crack of magic she teleported to the group, purple sparks dancing in her wake. She put herself between Jubilee and the other student, a girl with fire-red hair and bright green eyes. The detailing on her uniform was bright orange.

The girl stumbled back, eyes wide, and put her hands out at chest height. Globes of yellow-orange heat immediately burst around her hands. Dor drew her wand and felt the magic at her shoulders. She considered her options. There was no ready source of water, so it’d have to be [Jubilee’s Dazzler], unless she wanted to go with the fire spells.

Jubilee grabbed Dor from behind, wrapping her arms around Dor’s chest and pulling her back. Dor knew immediately it was Jubilee from her touch. Her skin tingled and felt warm and [Gems’ Fusion] flickered to the fore of her mind. A short man with a gruff expression and scruffy chin interposed himself in the next moment. After several moments, Dor remembered Jean pointing him out to her. It was Logan, the combat teacher.

“Easy, Dorothy,” Jubilee said. “We were just sparring.”

Dor lowered her wand.

The other girl lowered her hands and the yellow-orange heat globes faded.

“Oh!” Dor turned to face Jubilee. “This is a class? I didn’t realize…” Jubilee nodded, wide-eyed. Dor blushed hard and tears sprang to her eyes. She turned to look again at the red-headed girl. “I’m so, very sorry. I thought…”

“Jones, you good?” Logan’s voice was low and gravely, like a deep-throated canid. Dor backed up several steps, Jubilee with her. The red-headed girl, Jones he had called her, shook her shoulders and put her hands behind her back.

“I’m good. Just startled.”

Logan turned to face Dor, crossing his thick arms over his barrel chest and frowned. He wasn’t very tall, but he didn’t need to be. He was built like a tree trunk and his scowl made her swallow nervously. Clearly, he was unhappy with her interruption. She tried not to shrink back. Tried to remind herself this place was safe. But she couldn’t help biting her lip and hunching her shoulders. She couldn’t help the tears of embarrassment from streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s all right, kid. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he growled. “This is the new girl, right Sparkles? She’s with you?”

“Yeah,” said Jubilee. “She didn’t know it was just sparring. She didn’t mean to…”

He nodded and turned to face the gathered students. “Pair up. Practice your throws.” He looked sidelong at Jubilee. “Sparkles, you’re with Chipmunk.”

“I’m a squirrel!” Squirrel Girl shouted, indignant.

Logan ignored her.

“That’s hardly fair,” said Jubilee. “She’s got super strength.”

“You think the bad guys are going to go easy on you because you don’t have super strength?” Logan demanded, turning the full force of his gruff upon Jubilee.

Jubilee quailed. “No, sir.”

“Then get to it.” Then he pointed at Dor. “You’re with me.”

Dor felt herself go faint. She was certain she couldn’t throw this man, no matter what spells she might turn against him.

“Mr. Logan, go easy on her,” said Jubilee.

Logan growled at her and Jubilee scurried off but not before shooting Dor a sympathetic look.

Logan turned to face the junior X-Men, all of whom had paired up and were practicing the same grappling throw the red-headed girl had used on Jubilee. Facing them, he wasn’t facing her. In fact he almost had his back to her. Dor took the opportunity to scrub the tears from her face and take a deep breath. Logan kept his arms crossed firmly, stance wide.

Other than Squirrel Girl and Jubilee, Dor saw Shadowcat paired with the blue-skinned boy, Nightcrawler; and Iceman with the red-headed girl, Jones; and the large boy with the thick accent, Colossus, was paired with the purple-haired girl, Psylock. She watched as Psylock grabbed Colossus’s arm and expertly levered his weight against him, tossing him to the grass. The boy hopped up with a grin and a nod and they did it again.

“Where you from, kid?” Logan didn’t look at her.

Dor started to speak, cleared her throat, and tried again. “St. Bridget’s Orphanage in Wakefield, Quebec. That’s in Canada.”

He nodded. “I know the town.”

Dor almost laughed, but it was more like a breath. “Maybe so, but I’m from a different version of Earth where there’s no magic and no superpowers. Also, it’s nineteen-o’-eight. My guess is my version of Wakefield doesn’t look much like yours.”

Logan grunted. “Why do they call you Door?”

“It’s short for Dorothy.”

“I thought it might be because you’re a teleporter. Not a codename then.”

Dor shook her head. She approached cautiously until she stood almost even with him, less than an arm’s length away. He kept his gaze on the students practicing their throws. He was less intimidating when his fearsome glower was aimed elsewhere. She wondered if he knew that, if he was deliberately not looking at her.

“I really didn’t mean to interrupt. I don’t make a habit of attacking people unprovoked,” said Dor.

Logan shifted, uncrossing his arms and planting his fists on his hips. “You’ve got a good stance. You study Tai Chi?”

“Waterbending,” said Dor “Northern style, I think. We only practiced together for about a week, but the basics have stuck with me.”

Logan grunted. “Rumor has it you’ve been in a fair number of scraps.”

“I suppose. Mostly I’ve had help or gotten lucky.”

He nodded. “As long as you’re gonna stick around, you’re gonna be trained. Tell Grey to schedule you some time with me in the Danger Room.”

Dor shivered. “What’s that?”

“It’s a place where mutants can let loose with their powers, practice without hurting anyone.” He turned to look at her, arms still firmly crossed. “You lookin’ to stick around? To be an X-Man?”

Dor shrugged. “It would be nice to have a team to belong to, but I have all these artifacts I need to return to their planes of origin. Jean is trying to help me figure out how to do it. Once we’ve understood it, I’ll have to go.”

Logan looked back at the other students. They stood in silence for a while, the junior X-Men grunting and shouting and cheering and groaning. After a while, Dor plucked up her courage to ask, “Mr. Logan, am I in trouble for attacking that girl?”

Logan stroked his chin, thumb rasping across the stubble. “You defended a friend. That’s what X-Men do. So, no. You’re not in trouble, kid.”

That evening, at dinner, Jubilee made sure they sat with Angelica Jones, Firestar. Dor apologized again, but Firestar laughed it off. “No sweat, new girl. That was pretty impressive, how you zapped right in there. I’m glad you’re one of us.”

After dinner, Dor begged off on loitering in the common room. Instead she went up to the dormrooms. At the foot of the stairs, Jubilee caught up with her

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” said Dor.

Once in their room, Jubilee sat on her bed. “Is something up?” she asked, tone deliberately nonchalant.

Dor shook her head. “I thought I’d visit Minwu and Li this evening. I don’t want them to worry about me.”

“You could have just said that,” said Jubilee.

“What?” Dor looked at the other girl, surprised at the resentment in her tone.

“Instead of just wandering off, I mean.”

“I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t want to… Jubilee, I’m not leaving. I just want to check in with them, that’s all.”

Jubilee sat on her bed and nodded. “Sorry. Guess I’m just a little jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Your other friends.” She shrugged. “I think. I don’t know. You’re my first real friend. I never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends before. And now I’ve got Squirrel Girl and Shadowcat and, well, everyone here, really. But still. You stuck with me when we were hunted by sentinels. You didn’t have to do that.”

Dor was stunned. She sat next to Jubilee and put her arm around the other girl’s shoulder. Her cheeks warmed and her spine tingled. “Before I left St. Bridget’s, I didn’t have any friends either. Now I have friends across the multiverse. You are dear to me, Jubilee.” She kissed Jubilee’s cheek.

Jubilee sniffled and giggled. “All right. Go see your friends. Tell me all about it when you get back, yeah?” She kissed Dor’s cheek in return, and warmth spread through Dor’s body, shivering her skin and filling her vision with golden light.

Chapter Text

She took a deep breath, reveling in her existence. She remembered what had happened, fighting that mercenary, getting her butt saved by Storm, then she’d ceased to exist. But she remembered the time in between: the shower, the spanking, introductions, dreaming of the Professor, meditating with Jean, and standing up for Jubilee. It was a strange combination of memory and dream. She’d been there, but only kind of. The times when Dor and Jubilee had been together were most clear in her mind.

She got to her feet and hurried to the bathroom, locking the doors, and looking in the mirror. She was tall. Well, she was taller than Dor or Jubilee. Probably about Jean’s height. Her skin was a smooth, pale shade of brown. Her hair was much longer than Jubilee’s pixie cut, jet black with bright auburn highlights and all held back in a single, long braid.

She wore a black t-shirt with a bright pink circle-inscribed X on the left breast, the same t-shirt Jubilee had worn; and a charcoal grey Hogwartian skirt, the same skirt Dor had worn. Curious, she hiked up her skirt to find pink panties with a purple waistband, a combination of the panties both girls had worn. In an excited hurry, she pulled off her clothes to get a better look at her new body.

She had four arms. She stretched the upper pair above her head and the lower pair out to the side, rotating them each in turn. The upper arms were set slightly behind the lower, and when she moved them she watched her skin stretch over muscle and bone, showing she had two sets of collar bones and shoulder blades.

She further had two sets of eyes, one set above the other. Her upper eyes were dark brown, almost black, the other were deep emerald green. She blinked the lower pair, then the upper, then each in turn, delighting in how easy it was. She wondered if her head was slightly bigger, or her cheek bones slightly smaller to accommodate the extra pair of eyes, but nothing about her face looked out of proportion.

Giggling, she reveled in examining herself: pale brown skin, sprinkling of freckles, cute little nose, long legs, tiny waist, full hips, and breasts. Neither Dor nor Jubilee had much in the way of breasts, but hers, while not as full as some, were definitely noticeable, with small, dark nipples and freckles playing at their tops.

“I wonder…” she whispered. “I was going to Mysidia. Do you want… Of course. I’d love to meet them. If it will work that is.” It was odd, talking to herself. She wasn’t quite Dor, wasn’t quite Jubilee. She was someone different. Someone new. And yet part of her knew she was a pair.

“It’s worth a shot.”

She put her clothes on before exiting the bathroom and sitting in the center of the dormroom. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on that mental space, the room in Dorothy Alice Wendy’s mind that held every book she’d ever read and several more besides, that functioned as a library and granted her access to L-Space and thereby the multiverse. She could see it, but it did not come to her readily.

Should have known it wouldn’t work.

We’re not giving up yet.

She felt at the back of her mind and touched [Pince’s Catalogue].

“Catalog Cogitatus.” Her thoughts organized. She sat up straighter. The warmth in her chest grew. She reached for the room in her mind and it came to her. It came slowly, like an old friend recognizing who she’d once been and warming to the idea of who she was now.

With a breath and a blink, she sat on the floor in her mind where the table usually stood. She got to her feet and looked around.

“This is… amazing,” she whispered.

She walked around the room, examining the titles, until she came to the doorway. With a flutter in her chest, she pushed open the door to the book-lined corridors of L-Space beyond.

“I… We don’t have to… I want to.”

She stepped into L-Space, focusing on Minwu, her friend, her sister, and a corridor opened on her right. She turned and stumbled and fell through bookcases. She put her lower arms out to catch herself and found the back of a cushioned chair. Looking up, she saw Minwu and Li sitting at a small, round table, finishing breakfast.

Li stood warily. She could see him taking a cautious stance, but her eyes were for Minwu. Minwu’s pink hair was pulled back in a simple tail, her cheeks were flushed. Her torso was naked and she held a baby, one in each arm, to nurse noisily at her breasts.

The woman who was partly Dor, partly Jubilee, gasped. “You had your babies!”

“Who are you?” Li demanded. His tone was low and calm with a hint of a threat.

“Oh. Right. You don’t recognize me. I’m Dora… Ju… lee? Doralee?” The name felt good. It felt right. “I’m Doralee. I think. Yeah. Doralee. I’m a fusion of Dor and her buddy Jubilee. From the Marvelverse. Marvelverse? What’s… never mind, I’ll figure it out later. I, that is, Dor, she was coming to visit, ‘cause you said you’d worry if she didn’t. But Jubilee’s not been feeling like she totally fits in with the X-Men yet. It’s hard being the new kid, ya’ know? And then they fused and I wondered if I’d be able to planeswalk and now, well, here I am.”

Li looked at Minwu with a small shrug.

“You do kind of look like Dorothy,” said Minwu.

“Yeah. You saw the fusion spell in her grimoire. Well, I’m the result.” She smiled widely and spread her arms.

Minwu nodded carefully.

“Here, look, I’ll…” Doralee rested the hands of her lower arms at the small of her back, lacing the fingers just above her bottom, and the hands of her upper arms at her navel, lacing the fingers just above her pelvis. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and with a thought, [Gems’ Fusion] appeared in her mind. The gold-bordered playing card showed Rainbow Quartz glowing and at the ready. It felt warm and heavy in her mind, like all the playing cards did.

The wording of the cards had always been strange to Dor, like she was missing the context that would make it clear. The text box of [Gems’ Fusion] mentioned tokens and battlefields, and [Minwu’s Cura] described preventing damage rather than fixing it. It was like there was a rule book she didn’t have access to. But Princess Celestia had said magic relied on metaphor, and Minwu had said the Cura and Lifa cards were a compact version of the spells she knew.

So, though [Gems’ Fusion] said little about how to unfuse, Doralee felt certain, under normal circumstances, she’d have been able to unfuse with a simple application of power. But the multiverse rang like a bell in her mind, and she knew, without knowing quite how, that the planeswalker spark was inextricably tied to the soul of Dorothy Alice Wendy. While Dor’s soul was tied to Jubilee’s, they could planeswalk together in the form of Doralee. But so long as they were on a plane not of Jubilee’s origin, they could not unfuse.

She opened her eyes.

“My apologies. I can’t unfuse. I just wanted to let you know I’m all right. That Dor is all right. We’re working on a way to return the artifacts. But you said you’d worry if she didn’t check in, so… I-I’ll just head back now.”

“Wait,” said Minwu. “Don’t leave. It’s good to see you, Dorothy. Or… I’m sorry. What did you say your name is?”

“Doralee. I suppose it’s a combination of Dorothy and Jubilee’s names.”

“Why don’t you have breakfast with us?” Said Minwu.

“There’s coffee,” said Li. “Do you like coffee? Dor does.”

Doralee nodded. “But I probably shouldn’t have any. It’s just about bedtime back at the Institute.” She accepted a seat at the table.

“Interesting. You must be on a different hemisphere on that world than this one. Is your world on a twenty-five hour day cycle like ours?” Minwu asked, suddenly enthusiastic.

“No,” said Doralee. “It’s twenty-four hours.”

“Fascinating,” said Minwu. She looked about to ask another question when one of the babies let loose her nipple with a sigh. Then the other did the same.

“Still in sync,” said Li. He held out his hands and Minwu handed him one of the babies. She took a terrycloth napkin from the table and draped it over her shoulder while Li did the same and, almost in unison, they put the babies up to their shoulders and gently rubbed their backs.

“This is Palom,” said Minwu of the baby whose back she rubbed.

“And this is Porum,” said Li.

Doralee didn’t know how they could tell them apart as they looked identical to her.

The babies burped, first one then the other. Li and Minwu moved into a carefully synchronized flurry of activity, wiping the babies’ mouths, cleaning off each other’s shoulders, moving to the bedroom, changing the babies’ diapers, and settling them into the wooden bassinet where they yawned and cuddled and slept.

In the distance, a bell tolled.

“I’ve got class,” said Li quietly. “But I could stay if you like.”

Minwu shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Li flicked a glance as Doralee. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you with…”

“It’s Dorothy,” said Minwu.

Li shrugged and looked at Doralee apologetically. “Kind of.”

Doralee blushed and put her lower pair of hands behind her back, swaying. “That’s all right. I really should be getting back anyway. I only wanted to check in.”

“No. I want you to stay,” said Minwu. “For a while at least. Please?”

Doralee looked from Minwu to Li and back again.

Li sighed. “I need to get going. These mages can barely do a pushup and I’m expected to teach them hand to hand combat.” He kissed Minwu’s cheek, gave Doralee a wink, and was out the door.

“Dorothy, would you fetch me that robe, please?”

Doralee looked to where Minwu pointed. There was a worn white robe with the repeating, red triangle pattern along the hem draped over the back of one of the chairs by the bookcases in the corner through which Doralee had planeswalked. It was simple terrycloth with a terrycloth belt. Doralee grabbed it and brought it to Minwu where she sat on the bed in the adjoining room, rocking the basinet with one foot.

“I’m sorry,” said Minwu as she took the robe and put it on, covering her naked torso. “Your name isn’t Dorothy in this form.”

“You know Dor, not me. But Dor is a big part of who I am, so it’s fine.”

“Names are important,” said Minwu. “I should get it right.”

Doralee smiled. In the back of her mind, she remembered Dor wishing for her own last name and felt a twinge of sympathy. As a temporary being, Doralee didn’t feel any desire for one of her own.

“So, tell me what it’s like,” said Minwu. “If you can linger that is. What’s it like fusing with another being?”

Doralee smiled and sat cross-legged on the floor. “It’s amazing. I’m a representation of Dor and Jubilee’s relationship. When they met, they were both running away, Dor from that horrid orphanage and Jubilee from the sentinels. Each sought a haven and in a dark, dirty alleyway, they found each other. Even though they were only together for a few hours, they became fast friends. They’re stronger together, more confident, ready to take on anything.”

“That’s amazing. I’m happy for you. For both of you.”

A high-pitched whistle interrupted their conversation. A kettle on the wood burning stove at the other end of the cottage trembled and spat steam. One of the babies whimpered.

Minwu started to stand, but Doralee was faster.

“I’ll get it.” She hurried through to the other room and the stove. She grabbed the kettle by the handle and looked around for a place to put it. The table was wooden and she was afraid the hot kettle would burn it. In fact, the handle was hot in her hand, quickly getting to the point of painful, and she switched it to another, realizing she probably should have picked it up with one of the towels nearby.

“There’s a pad on the counter by the sink,” said Minwu even as one of the babies began to wail.

“Shit,” said Doralee. The kettle was burning her hand. She cast her gaze about and found a copper sink set into a wooden counter. And upon the counter was a circular marble pad set atop a cloth mat. Dorlee set the kettle down and shook her burned hands, wincing. She turned her hands up and looked at them. Both upper hands were red, though the left was worse and blistering.

“That was stupid,” she chided herself. She looked at the sink to run cool water over hands, but there were no taps.

“Doralee, come in here,” said Minwu.

Both babies were crying now and Doralee felt awful. She went back into the bedroom, hiding her burned hands behind her back. Minwu had one of the babies in her arms and was rocking the other in the basinet, trying to quiet them.

“I’m sorry,” Doralee said.

Minwu shook her head. “Did you burn yourself?”

“Um…” It was silly to feel guilty. It’d been a simple mistake and she’d hurt no one but herself. Even so, she was embarrassed.

“Show me.”

Doralee held out her upper hands. The left was definitely the worse burned of the two, but both hurt.

“Here, can you take him?”

Minwu held out the baby and Doralee took him in her lower hands. She held the baby to her chest as Minwu took her upper hands by the wrist and pulled them to her. She took a deep breath and her form was limned with green light. That light suffused Doralee and focused on her burns, soothing them.

Doralee closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye, a white playing card appeared in a sparkling of light, much as it had when Ben had transformed into Diamondhead. She reached out with a thought and the sphere dropped into her mental grasp, transforming into a playing card.

Minwu’s Esuna                                   

Cost:     W

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Cleric

Text:     Choose one or both –

Remove up to two -1/-1 counters from target creature you control.

Destroy target Aura you don’t control attached to a creature you do control.

“Well, how about that,” said Doralee. She wondered why this spell had come so easily when others had been a struggle or hadn’t manifested at all. Was it because she was more confident than Dorothy? More powerful?

“Does that feel better?” Minwu asked.

Doralee opened her eyes. The burns were gone. “Yes, thank you.”

Minwu picked up the other baby.

Doralee rocked the baby boy in her arms. He had the chubby, scrunched face of a baby and a pale wisp of hair. He was warm and wiggly against her chest, cradled in her arms. Looking into his face, she felt a surge of warmth. This was a baby with a loving parents who would know a loving childhood, something neither Jubilee nor Dor had experienced. But she wasn’t jealous, she was happy for him, for all of them.

When the babies were settled, they put them back in the basinet.

Minwu lead Doralee to the front room and closed the door with a quiet click. Then she began cleaning up the remains of breakfast.

“You sit,” said Doralee. “Let me do that.”

“You don’t have to do chores for me,” said Minwu.

“You just grew two whole people. Let me be a friend and help out.”

Minwu laughed, then covered her mouth and looked at the bedroom door. When no infant wails sounded, they gave a pair of relieved sighs. Minwu sat and Doralee set about cleaning up. Neither Dor nor Jubilee was stranger to doing dishes, and once she figured out how to work the pump at the sink, Doralee was well on her way.

“I couldn’t help but notice the look on your face when I cast Esuna,” said Minwu. “Did you manage to add it to your collection of spells?”

Doralee grinned while scrubbing a plate. “I did.”

“Have you figured out how it works?”

She thought of the slowly resolving playing card. “Maybe? Dor seems really uncertain about it, but I think it’s got something to do with observation and metaphor. The playing cards are all metaphors. I think she’s just needs a way to visualize grabbing onto the spell or power or whatever it is. But also, I’m more confident than she is. I feel more myself even though I’m two people.”

When she was done cleaning, Doralee put the kettle back on and brewed Minwu a cup of coffee. She declined to have any herself. Despite the morning here in Ivalice, the evening back at the Institute was catching up with her. She looked at the bookcases and yawned. “I really should go back. It was lovely to meet you, Minwu. I hope I didn’t disrupt your morning too much.”

“Not at all.”

They exchanged hugs. Minwu kissed her cheek, and Doralee went back to the bookcase. With a thought, the books parted and granted her access to L-Space. Once in the place between planes she was drawn by a tug at her middle, back through the narrow, book-lined corridors, to the plane of Jubilee’s origin, the Marvelverse. Her vision filled with golden light, her skin buzzed and itched. She stumbled, blindly, forward until she fell to the floor of the library at Xavier’s Institute and shimmered apart.

Chapter Text

In the mornings, Dor spent a couple hours with Jean, meditating. Every time, they were able to quiet their minds and reach through the multiverse, the card of Camelot’s Excalibur pulsing between them, but they could not pinpoint the artifact’s origin.

“Don’t worry about it, Dorothy. With your spark to travel between planes, I’ve seen more than I ever thought I would. We just need to keep at it.”

But Dor got the impression Jean was more disappointed than she let on.

In the afternoons, she had training in the Danger Room with Logan, or Wolverine as the X-Men called him. He wore a pair of faded, scuffed bluejeans and an old white t-shirt. Over the t-shirt was a black jacket of the same armored material as the X-Men uniform. Logan’s was black with yellow markings at wrists and collar. The jacket put Dor in mind of the Hufflepuff colors. For that matter, a wolverine was a kind of badger. She imagined the Hufflepuff crest emblazoned with the gruff visage of Logan and grinned.

The Danger Room was a vast, high-tech space that created illusionary automatons for junior X-Men to train against. They reminded Dor of the mechanical spiders she and Jubilee had fought, but human shaped. The others called them robots. Dor sat with Jubilee and Shadowcat on a bench against the wall while Nightcrawler teleported about the room in puffs of black and magenta smoke, dispatching automatons with deft kicks and a wide grin. At first Dor had been nervous, but after watching Nightcrawler, she was eager to show what she could do.

When the last illusory automaton staggered, collapsed, and dissolved into light, Nightcrawler let out a celebratory whoop and did a backflip.

“All right, Elf. Not bad. Take a break,” Logan said. He didn’t smile, but Dor got the impression ‘not bad’ was high praise from as grizzled a man as him. “New girl. You’re up.”

Dor hopped up with more excitement than nervousness.

“Show ‘em what you got, girl,” Jubilee enthused, smacking her bottom playfully.

Dor hurried to Logan’s side.

“What can you do, kid?”

Dor ran down the mental list of her spells[1].

 “Some of them aren’t about fighting, but healing and focusing. And a couple I’ve never cast.” She described observing Diamondhead and Storm.

“Let’s stick with the ones you know.”

Dor nodded. “I can disarm an opponent, teleport, use a version of Jubilee’s power, conjure fire and control water. I don’t see any water about though.”

Logan tapped at a tablet and a trio of illusory automatons appeared. He took a few steps back. Dor drew her wand and settled into a waterbending stance.

“They’re just going to stand there for now,” Logan said. “Do your thing.”

Dor cast [Jubilee’s Dazzler], the playing card coming readily to her mind, the power flowing easily through her, focusing in her wand hand, and blasting through the end of the wand at the center of the three automatons. It staggered back, joints sparking, and collapsed.

She reached for Elmira’s Javelin next. She wasn’t as comfortable with the red-bordered spell, but that’s why she chose it. She wanted to get better, to get stronger, and to do so would require she be familiar with all her tools. She thrust with her wand and launched the fiery projectile, striking a second automaton in its chest. It melted and exploded. The coursing of fire through her body was exhilarating. She felt aflame, cheeks hot, skin tingling, thoughts loose and at the ready. The second javelin came as easily as the first and the third automaton blew apart.

Logan grunted, but the junior X-Men on the sidelines applauded. Jubilee cheered loudly. Logan tapped at his tablet again.

“This time they’ll attack. You ready, new kid?”

Dor nodded.

The destroyed automatons disappeared in a shimmer of light and a new trio appeared. The one in the middle held a long, single-edged blade in both hands. The two on either side spread out to flank her and she let them, focusing on the one in the middle. She launched a fiery javelin at it but it dodged aside and came for her. Dor’s eyes widened as the automatons closed. She reached for [Kya’s Waterbending], hoping the arms of water would defend her, before remembering there was no water in the Danger Room.

Desperate, she reached for [Twilight’s Blink] and felt the power fill her.

With a crack she leapt several feet behind where the automatons had started. Now behind them, she took a moment to settle her thoughts. “Catalog Cogitatus,” she murmured, and felt her panic fade. A quick Expelliarmus disarmed the sword-wielding automaton as they turned to face her. The sword leapt from the automaton’s hands and spun away harmlessly. She lashed her wand at the one on her right, letting [Elmira’s Whip] extend from its tip and entangle her target. With a jerk, she pulled it into its fellows and the three bumbled for a moment in a tangle of limbs. Dor took a breath, the heat of [Elmira’s Whip] filling her nostrils, and with a pulse of power, the whip exploded, reducing the automatons to slag.

“Not bad, kid. You want a break, or you wanna push it?” Logan asked.

Dor grinned, feeling more excited, more energized than ever she had.

“Push it.”

Dor lost track of time in the whirlwind of magic, sparks, and fire. She danced smoothly from one stance to the next, even though there was no water to call upon. Instead, she launched fire and light, teleporting about the Danger Room with adroit alacrity. The automatons got faster and stronger, able to take more than a single javelin or dazzler. They came armed with swords, then staves, then firearms. They got taller and better armored. And Dor fended them off until her braids were frazzled, sweat slicked her hair and stuck her X-Man t-shirt to her chest and back.

“All right,” said Logan. “That’s enough. Take a seat, kid.”

Dor blinked sweat from her eyes and looked at the gruff man. He swayed and blurred. “I’cun take anotha roun’,” she said. Her joints were watery, her fingers numb, but her mind was sprinting and she was ready to take on another host of the illusions.

“No. Sparkles, Chipmunk, come get your friend.”

Jubilee and Squirrel Girl were suddenly on either side of her. Dor was certain Logan was wrong, that she could keep going and she pulled at her magic, that tingle at her shoulder blades, and let [Twilight’s Blink] take prominence in her mind. She’d teleport out of the girls’ grip and show them all just how ready she was. The magic flowed to her wand, was shaped by her mind, and the crack of teleportation was the last thing she knew before blacking out.

Dor woke in the room in her mind, sitting cross-legged across from the Professor.

“Ah, there you are, Dorothy.”

Dor looked around. The room was stuffed full and close. She felt fuzzy and slow. With a thought she reached for [Pince’s Catalogue].

“I wouldn’t do that,” the Professor said, but a moment too late.

It was like a sore muscle, overused, her shoulders tensed and she couldn’t use her magic. Her mind shrieked with pain for a moment that lingered.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Dor sighed, wincing. “I drained my mana. There’s only so much magical power within a person, and using all of it is dangerous. I suppose I’m lucky I only passed out. I was just so caught up in the training… I suppose Mr. Logan is disappointed with me?”

Professor Xavier chuckled. “Actually he’s worried. The Wolverine may be fierce, but he takes the safety of his students seriously.”

Dor groaned. “That’s even worse.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I should have…”

The professor held up a hand. “Have you learned from your mistake, Dorothy?”

Dor nodded.

“Then you’ve nothing to be sorry for.” He smiled at her and Dor wanted to hug him, but held herself back. She didn’t really know him and didn’t want to be too forward. “It is difficult to keep thoughts to oneself mind to mind like this. I would be more than happy to receive a hug from you, Dorothy.”

He stood and Dor did the same, hugging him around the middle. He put his hands around her shoulders and Dor sighed, comfortable. After a while, she drew back.

“I suppose it’s time for me to wake up now.”

The Professor nodded. “I’m afraid you’ll have a headache. I’ve done what I can for it, but magic isn’t my area of expertise. Also, your friends are worried for you, they’ll want your assurance you’re all right.”

Dor awoke in her bed. Jubilee at her side, tablet in hand.

“She’s awake,” said Jean Grey from further in the room. Dor tried to sit up and look around, but she was sore all over and just the thought of trying to move was too much. Within moments, a crowd of faces peered down at her: Jubilee, Shadowcat, Squirrel Girl, and Firestar. A few moments later, Jean joined them, expression mild.

The girls peppered her with questions until Jean told them to give her some space. Dor explained about mana and what happened when she used too much. Then she apologized for worrying them while hot tears slid down her cheeks. She received assurances they weren’t upset with her and were all glad she was unharmed. Finally, Jean chivvied everyone out.

“Get some sleep Dorothy,” Jean said, voice cool.

Dor hoped the older girl wasn’t mad at her.

“Here,” said Jubilee when it was just the two of them. “Dr. McCoy gave me some pain killers. They should help you sleep.”

Jubilee helped Dor sit up and gave her a pair of small blue pills and a glass of water. Dor swallowed them carefully, then groaned.

“Minwu would spank my bottom if she knew how foolish I’d been.”

“Really?” said Jubilee. “She seemed so sweet.” She took the glass from Dor and set in on a nearby table.

Dor nodded, then winced as her headache intensified. Dor closed her eyes and after several moments, when the headache faded, she took a deep breath. “She is. She’s wonderful. But she doesn’t brook much nonsense, and I should have known better.”

Jubilee rubbed her back through the t-shirt. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were awesome.”

After a quiet day of recovery, Dor resumed her meditation with Jean in the morning and training with Logan in the afternoon. Meditating with Jean was nice and quiet, but yielded no more results than that first day. They sat in the dim quiet together and after a time the cosmos of this plane, the Marvelverse as she couldn’t stop thinking of it, would shrink to within touching distance. Excalibur would pulse between them and, somewhere beyond the Blind Eternities, another plane would pulse in return. And then, no matter how patiently they waited, no matter how hard they thought, no matter how far they reached, nothing else happened.

“Jean, are you mad at me?” Dor asked after another failed attempt. They sat together in the quiet study room in the library.

Jean looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Of course not. What makes you think that?”

“Well, it’s just, you seem disappointed.”

Jean shook her head, then sighed. “We made such amazing progress that first time. I thought I was getting stronger, becoming a better telepath, but now I’m certain it’s because of you. That spark I sense in you, that allows you to walk the multiverse, I can use it as a sort of telescope to see further, but that’s it. I’m not angry with you, Dorothy, but I am disappointed I haven’t been able to help you solve your problem.”

Dor looked down. “I see.”

“It’s not your fault, Dorothy.”

But Dor felt like it was. Perhaps she could focus better, or concentrate harder. When she got to the Danger Room, Jubilee was there to greet her.

“How was meditation?”

Dor shrugged. “Same as usual, but no better.”

“At least it’s not getting worse,” said Shadowcat quietly.

Dor looked at her and smiled.

“Come on,” said Squirrel Girl boisterously. “Let’s go smash some robots and feel better about ourselves.”

Logan gave her an appraising look when they entered the Danger Room. Dor blushed, but he didn’t say anything. She sat with the others and cheered on Syrin as she used her sonic powers to fight off automatons. She was amazed at Gambit’s accuracy with exploding playing cards. She winced as Spyke launched daggers of bone from his body.

When it was Dor’s turn, Logan said, “You said there’s a couple powers you’ve never tried before.”

Dor nodded.

“Let’s try them today. And if you begin to feel faint, tell me.”

Dor nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“You said you can do what Storm does?”

Dor shrugged. “Of a sort. I don’t think I can fly, and I feel like she’s got a whole host of ways she can apply her power. But I’ve got a spell that, well, I saw her summon lightning and tornados, and I think I can do something like that.”

Logan grunted. “Show me.” He summoned a platoon of illusory automatons with a tap at his tablet. They stood still, waiting.

Dor closed her eyes and summoned her grimoire. She flipped to the second page where the gold-bordered cards were and withdrew [Storm’s Salvo]. Storm was tall and lithe with dark skin and white hair. Sparks tickled along Dor’s hand up her arm to her shoulder. A cold breeze sent her braids to swaying. She shivered, but did not feel cold. The scent of rain filled her.

She opened her eyes and drew her wand. The power clenched between her shoulder blades, building. She raised her wand and pointed it at the automatons. A moment later, a bolt of lightning leapt from her wand to her targets even as a whirlwind cone surrounded them, lifting them into the air to be struck again and again by the lightning.

It was over in moments.

Dor looked around to find the junior X-Men hiding behind the bench, Logan hunkered down nearby.

He stood and brushed off his knees. “All right. Well. Now we know what that does.” He looked at the junior X-Men who were climbing back onto the bench. “Who wants to see her do that again?” Immediately every one of them raised their hands.

Dor cast the spell three more times, the illusory automatons of the Danger Room scattering before her power. She was ready to give it another go when Logan called a halt. “Let’s give someone else a turn.”

Dor took her seat next to Shadowcat and Jubilee to watch Squirrel Girl punch the automatons apart with her bare hands.

Dor found herself less excited to meditate with Jean that morning and after half an hour, Jean called it quits.

“It doesn’t feel like we’re focusing very well today.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dor. “It’s my…”

“It’s not your fault,” said Jean. “I’ve got a research paper I need to focus on for the Professor. Maybe we’ll take a break for a few days.”

Dor bit her lip. She liked meditating with Jean, even if they hadn’t met with much success, and she felt bad wanting to focus on her training in the Danger Room, but she bit her lip and nodded.

That afternoon, after Firestar had blasted heavily armored automatons with waves of intense heat, after Iceman had encased them in frozen blocks, after Colossus had met them hand to hand and tossed them about like toys, it was Dor’s turn.

“Got anything you haven’t shown me?” Logan asked.

Dor nodded. “I’m not quite sure what it will do. It’s not marked like the others.”

“Do I need to clear the room?” Logan asked.

Dor shook her head. “I won’t be casting lightning bolts or anything.”

Logan grunted and nodded, tapped at his tablet, then nodded at the trio of automatons.

Dor drew her wand, took a breath, and closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye, she flipped open the grimoire to [Ben’s Petrosapien], a white-bordered card featuring a greenish-blue crystalline golem with a spiked fin crowning its head and the green hourglass symbol upon its chest. Dor let the power tingling at her shoulder blades fill her with slow, quiet breathing until it fairly burst from her fingers, then took her wand in both hands and gave the playing card a mental tap. The energy flowed, shaped by the spell and power pushed out from her body before she was ready for it.

The feeling started deep in her chest, cold and smooth and sharp. It grew with a song like vibrating crystal, each cell of her body resonated as it shifted and changed. The crystalline body grew from the inside out, pushing at her, stretching her, pulling her in every direction at once. It was strange and uncomfortable but not quite painful, as though she’d exercised a muscle she didn’t know existed. The magic within tingled along her skin but rather than shiver, her skin sang with it. When it was done, Dor looked down at herself. She had become a petrosapien. She’d expected the spell to summon a petrosapien from elsewhere in the multiverse, after all summoning monsters to do one’s bidding was common in legend and folktale. Perhaps the spell was different because she’d learned it by observing a shapeshifter.

Her skin was blue with a faint purplish tinge. And though her limbs and digits were blocky and seemed cumbersome, she moved easily if heavily. She stretched her arms out and up then took a couple careful steps. Her body was tall and broad, all hard planes and sharp angles. Though she didn’t know if petrosapiens had a difference in sexes, she definitely felt masculine in this body. She held her hand palm up before her and curled the fingers one at a time, the joints clicking.

It took her a while to realize she was unclad. The clothes she’d worn, bluejeans and a t-shirt, had ripped from her body, shredded by the crystalline angles of the petrosapien form and her rapid growth. But she felt no shame in being nude as a petrosapien.

“This is unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” she said. Her voice was deep, sonorous, with a faint high-pitched ring. She looked around and realized her senses were different. Though her vision was much the same, colors were washed out. She couldn’t smell at all. But her hearing was acute, her whole body sensitive to the vibrations of movement and sound.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Strong,” said Squirrel Girl.

“Awesome,” said Jubilee.

“Look like you’re up for a fight,” said Logan. “Ready?”

Dor turned to face the automatons. She raised her fists and they shifted, each cell of her crystalline body sliding against each other like microscopic glass marbles, until her fists became long, sharp blades.

She grinned.

At Logan’s direction, she fought automatons of increasing difficulty. He showed her the basic techniques of in-close brawling. When a trio of metal claws punched from between the knuckles on either of his fists, Dor jumped, surprised, but she paid attention and tried to use her blades as he used his claws. She couldn’t have said for how long she went at it, but when Logan called a halt she was winded and would have been sweating were she still human.

Dor reached for the spell in her mind and tapped at it. She felt the magic fill her and pull at her form, shrinking her, shifting her back to her humanform. It was a moment or two before she remembered that shifting into the petrosapien had shredded her clothes. She stood nude before Logan and the junior X-Men, stunned and unmoving for several moments. Dor knelt quickly so her knees covered her chest and wrapped her arms about them, squeezing her legs together to hide her nakedness as best she could. She blushed so hard she was sure her whole body was a uniform scarlet and tears sprang immediately to her eyes.

“Turn around, boys,” Logan snapped, voice like a warning bark.

“Here,” said Jubilee. Dor looked up, blinking away tears, and found Jubilee holding out her bright, yellow jacket. Dor took it, gratefully, and slipped it on. It was long, falling to her knees and was more than adequate to cover her nakedness.

“Thank you,” Dor whispered, barely above a croak. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s all right,” said Jubilee. “It was an accident. And the boys turned around pretty quick. Well, except for Nightcrawler, but Colossus bopped him one.”

Dor blushed harder. Jubilee put an arm around her shoulders and steered her from the Danger Room. Squirrel Girl, Shadowcat, Firestar, and Siryn were all there with her, a solid pack of sisterhood.

“I did that once,” Firestar said quietly as they made their way to the locker room showers. “I channeled so much heat I burned the clothes right off my body. Everyone got a good look at me in the buff.”

Dor sniffled, but had to admit the story made her feel a bit better.

“Me too,” said Shadowcat. “I phased right through my clothes one time when I wasn’t concentrating.”

Squirrel Girl giggled. “I remember that one.”

Jubilee patted Dor’s back.

In the locker room, in another show of solidarity, the X-Men girls all stripped down and shared one of the large shower stalls. Dor blushed, pleased at their support.

After dinner that evening Dor joined the others to watch what they called a ‘chick-flick’. It was an inspiring tale about a young woman attending a prestigious law school and refusing to fall for the young man who treated her poorly. Later, Jubilee and Dor joined Squirrel Girl and Shadowcat in their dormroom to chat.

“Hey Dor, can we show everyone Doralee tomorrow? It’ll be our last training session in the Danger Room for a while.”

Dor tingled all over. Thinking of the tall, confident, four-armed woman excited her.

“That would be awesome,” said Squirrel Girl.

“What’s it like?” asked Shadowcat.

“So, totally amazing,” said Jubilee. “We’re so much more confident. And way powerful.”

“Is it, like, one of you controls the legs and…” Squirrel Girl trailed off.

Jubilee shook her head. “We’re one person. It’s like…” Jubilee looked at Dor.

“It’s like our friendship has become a person who has the best parts of both of us.”

“Wow,” said Shadowcat quietly.

“Yeah,” said Jubilee.

Later, lying in bed, sleep about to claim her, Dor had an idea. If Jean was right about using Dor as a sort of telescope for her telepathy, perhaps fusion would bring those two aspects together, make them stronger. But the idea of broaching fusion with Jean made Dor blush. Her friendship with Jubilee had been forged by desperation in a dark alley, by fighting together. She and Jean didn’t have that. And she didn’t feel she could ask for it, especially when she’d been focusing more on her training than her meditation.

But there was something Jean could do for her that might bring them closer. Something that might make up for Dor’s inattention in meditation.

That morning, after the others went off to class, Dor went back up to the dormitory floors, still in her pale yellow, Hufflepuff nightie, and knocked on Jean Grey’s study door. A few moments later, Dor felt the mental touch she’d come to know as Jean, then the door opened. Jean sat at her desk with her back to the door.

“Give me a moment or I’ll lose this thought,” Jean said, tapping away at a keyboard.

Dor knew about typewriters, but this keyboard was attached to a screened tablet, like the one Logan carried in the Danger Room. Jubilee had called them computers and explained all the marvelous things they could do.

A few moments on, Jean sighed and turned her chair. Jean, too, hadn’t changed from her nightie, a pale blue, silky slip with string straps that had bunched about her waist, allowing Dor a brief glimpse of white panties before Jean crossed her legs.

“Good morning, Dorothy. I thought we were taking a break.”

Dor nodded. “Ms. Grey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a favor to ask.”

Jean gave her a quizzical look and a faint smile. “Um, you don’t have to call me that.”

Dor swallowed hard but nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I just… It’s kind of a big favor and I… I was wondering, that is… I was hoping you could help me out. I, um, I feel awful about what I did the other day, being careless with my powers and worrying everybody. I thought about visiting Minwu and asking for her help, but she’s just had twins and I don’t want to bother her.”

Jean folded her hands at her waist and nodded. “All right. And what is it you want from me?”

“I was… I was hoping you’d give me a spanking.”

Jean nodded, but she said, “What for?”

“For being foolish and reckless. For neglecting my own wellbeing. For worrying my friends.” Dor took a breath. “And for not focusing on us.”

Jean’s eyebrows raised.

“I mean our meditation. These last few days I’ve been focused on training with my spells. I feel like I could focus better on meditation. I feel like I’ve let you down.”

Jean shook her head. “You haven’t let me down, Dorothy.”

“Well, I had an idea, but, well, it’s kind of personal, and I don’t want to ask for such a big favor before I make amends. Does that make sense?”

“And by make amends, you mean you want me to spank you?”

Dor nodded.

Jean clasped her hands in her lap and said, “I’m not sure you’ve earned a spanking, but if you think you have, I’ll grant your request. Are you certain?”

Dor nodded again.

“All right then.”

Jean stood and pushed her wheeled chair to its place under the desk, then went to the corner of her small study and picked up the straight-backed, armless chair, setting it in the center of her little study, just as she had before. She sat up tall, expression firm, knees together, and beckoned to Dor. Dor went to her, hiking up the back of her nightie and pulling it over her head to get it out of the way. She hadn’t worn a brassier, leaving her torso bare. She bent over Jean’s lap, palms flat, tip-toes stretched, and immediately felt at ease.

Jean pulled Dor’s panties down to her knees and Dor wiggled, shivering. Her wiggling sent her panties to her ankles where they slipped over her feet, leaving her bare tip to toe. Her bare midriff on Jean’s bare thighs made her warm. Jean put one hand on her back and one on her bare bottom.

The first time Jean had spanked Dor, over a week ago now, it had been a quick flurry of smacks that’d set her to quickly crying, and though Dor’s tears began as soon as she was over Jean’s lap, this spanking was different. This spanking was patient, meticulous. Jean spanked Dor low on her right cheek sharply and Dor gasped. There was a pause drawn out just long enough Dor thought it was over, then came the second in the same place on her left cheek. Both spanked spots tingled, stinging. And on it went, a slow spanking with stinging slaps climbing up her bottom to just before the base of her back, then down again, building a smoldering sting that threatened to become a fire, but Jean kept it under control. The slow, steady rhythm gave Dor plenty of time to recover between spanks so, though tears flowed freely and she gasped and squirmed with each smack, she was not sobbing.

The sting in her bottom spread throughout her, joining the tingle at her shoulders. She remembered being bent over in Sister Mary Margaret’s study, bare bottom taking the cruel woman’s cane, and [Twilight’s Blink] coming to mind unbidden. Now it was [Gems’ Fusion], the gold-bordered card warm as a spanking in her mind. And with each smack of Jean Grey’s hand on Dor’s bare bottom, the power at her shoulders pulsed, the card in her mind hummed. It grew stronger and louder until it filled her mind and threatened to spill forth. She tried to hold it back, tensing her body against each spank, gritting her teeth against the magic at her shoulders, holding her breath against the spell.

Jean Grey spanked her thigh and the sting of the spank broke her hold. The magic flowed. The spell was cast.

She hung, suspended, in the vast cosmos, and with a thought, her awareness expanded until the cosmos, a bare speck of a plane compared the expanse of the Blind Eternities and boundless Multiverse, was but a thin sphere binding her thoughts. She stretched her body, hands over her head, fingers and toes pointed, until the tips of her touched the bounds of the sphere.

Keeping the tips of her left fingers on that sphere, she touched the middle of her forehead with her right and her a third eye opened, an eye that could perceive the energy of thought. And from the third eye, she drew the playing card, Camelot’s Excalibur. When it was free, that third eye blinked shedding tears.

The card glowed in her hands, pulsing with power, pulsing in time to her heartbeat, filling her, filling the cosmos. And, beyond the Blind Eternities, that space between planes of existence, at a distance both vast and negligible, another plane pulsed in sympathy. She reached for it, her whole body pulsing now, her skin hot, tears at her eyes. She pushed her power through the card of Excalibur and felt her power reach for Excalibur’s home.

But a new presence gave her pause.

It was bright, hot, and telepathically massive. It hung in the distance, presence like a sun, and she feared it was staring at her. After a while, she realized the other presence gazed everywhere at once. She recognized it as a cosmic entity. A presence greater than any living being. A deity perhaps. It was situated both within the Marvelverse and without. Perhaps in several versions of the Marvelverse, parallel versions, at once. She pulled back from it, back from the Blind Eternities, back into her self, back into the physical realm, her version of the real world.

When she came to in Jean Grey’s study at Xavier’s Institute, she shuddered with fear and swallowed hard. That great, fiery existence had terrified her, not only because of its vast power and existence, but because it had resonated with her. She shivered, and Jean pulled gently away from Dor until the one woman was two girls again.

Dor stumbled and gasped. Her mind shivering and her body throbbing. She turned to look at Jean who looked at her, tears in her eyes.

“What was that?” said Dor.

“Are you all right?” said Jean

Dor nodded.

“It was like a great, telepathic phoenix,” said Dor.

Jean nodded. “Sometimes I have dreams. That there’s a great firebird deep within. It’s powerful, but it’s uncaring. It’s like there’s a part of me that has no empathy. And sometimes I worry it will escape.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Dorothy. I thought I could help you, but I’m afraid of that power.”

Dor nodded. “It’s all right. Besides, you did help me. I think I understand now how to reach through the card to its origin.”

Jean smiled, but it was weak. “I think I should go see the Professor.”

That afternoon, in the Danger Room, Doralee kicked ass.

Apparently word had gotten out, because every junior X-Man Dor had met was there. Except for Jean, who she assumed was holed up with the Professor, figuring out what to do about that cosmic phoenix. Dor felt bad for the girl. She hoped she hadn’t hurt her.

Jubilee’s grin and obvious excitement was enough to dispel Dor’s concern for the moment, and she drew her wand, flipped open her grimoire, and cast [Gems’ Fusion] reaching for Jubilee even as the other girl reached for her, and their bodies melted together in light to create the tall, four armed, four eyed, confident woman. The junior X-Men cheered and gasped and Doralee turned to them and flourished a bow. She looked at Logan who looked unimpressed.

“Whenever you’re ready, Papa-Wolvie.”

That got a nervous laugh from the gathered.

Logan snorted and tapped at his tablet. A dozen autonomous sparring bots composed of hard light appeared in the Danger Room, armed and at the ready. Doralee tossed sparks and flames, teleported here and there, disarmed the bots at every opportunity and tore them to bits with wind and lightning, wands in two of her four hands and sparks dancing from her fingers.

Heart racing with excitement, the whirlwind of combat ended quickly.

The junior X-Men cheered again and even Logan gave a small nod.

“Feeling faint, kiddo?”

“Not even a little.”

“I’m going to turn it up.”

In an intuitive moment, Doralee pressed the butts of her wands together. The wands glowed and extended until she held a long, thin staff. It wasn’t the kind of sturdy bludgeoning weapon Gambit so often used, and when she twirled it between her hands, light and sparks danced about her. This dual-wand felt natural, like it was made for her, part of her, and she knew she would cast faster than she ever had before.

For the next half an hour, Doralee destroyed bigger, faster, stronger, and more heavily armed and armored sparring bots to the increasingly enthusiastic appreciation of her audience.

That evening, after dinner, Dor told Jubilee, Shadowcat, and Squirrel Girl that in the morning she had to move on.

“Jean and I had a breakthrough. I think I know how to do it now. It’s important, I think, to make sure these artifacts get back where they belong.”

“You will come back though, right?” said Shadowcat.

“You better,” said Squirrel Girl, sniffling and clearing her throat roughly.

“Of course,” said Dor. “You have been dear friends.”

Later, when Shadowcat and Squirrel Girl had gone to their dormroom, Dor lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim her.

“You meant it, right?” Jubilee said quietly.

Dor looked over to find Jubilee curled on her side, staring at the wall.

“Meant what?”

Jubilee turned over to look at Dor. “What you said, about coming back to visit. That we’re your friends?”

Dor nodded.

“Good.” Jubilee sniffled and took a shuddery breath. “Cause if you don’t, I… I’ll spank your bottom. Just like Minwu. I mean it. You’re my first friend, Dorothy. And I…” She sniffled again and cried quietly.

After a few moments, Dor got up and joined Jubilee on her narrow bed. Jubilee scootched to the wall and held her blanket open so Dor could get underneath. Dor lay on her side and Jubilee cuddle up behind her.

Chapter Text

Bryllyance of Clan Majyst, Son of Movyllance, Grandson of Dragonlord Gemmenna of Majyst Isle of the Blood Chain of Io, or Bryll as his big sisters called him, polymorphed himself into the form of an elf, making sure to conjure clothes this time. It had caused no shortage of embarrassment amongst the vassals of his grandmother’s home the first few times he’d polymorphed, not realizing that just because he went unclad as a dragon, didn’t mean he could in elvenoid form.

It was unusual for an amethyst dragon to polymorph, especially into elvenoid form. They didn’t have a natural knack for it like the metallic dragons, but neither did they have an express distaste for it like the chromatics. As far as his sisters were concerned, he was peculiar, if not downright silly, choosing to study a spell the sole purpose of which was to transform him into a smaller, weaker form. Bryll liked it because it made it reading his teacher’s spellbooks significantly easier.

Bryll was young still, considered juvenile by Clan Majyst, so his teacher of the arcane wasn’t a dragon sage of the Blood Chain of Io, but an elven master named Finnaoilin, and Headmaster Finnaolin’s books were all sized for an elf. While there were plenty of dragon sized tomes written in High Draconic, amethyst dragons, as a rule, were more suited to psionics than magic, so most magic tomes on the island were sized for elves rather than dragons.

Bryll was fascinated by magic precisely because it didn’t come as naturally to him. He was happy to split his time studying psioncs and magic both. In fact his felicity with both had impressed no less than his grandmother, Dragonlord Gemmena of Majyst. Once, he’d even overheard Headmaster Finnaolin use the word ‘prodigy’. He tried not to let it go to his head, but it was hard.

Bryll found the spell book he was looking for easily enough. This section of the library had been given over to his studies and was filled with both his and his master’s tomes. The book he wanted was right where he’d left it: Conjuring and Summoning for Beginners. He flipped through the book to the thin, lavender ribbon he’d left to mark the page.

Summon Familiar was an extraordinarily fascinating spell. He’d spent the past few weeks studying it, deciding whether or not he could, or even wanted to cast it. The spell was used by elvenoid mages to find and bond a creature to do their bidding, to be an extra set of eyes and ears, to run menial errands. It was much like the vassals serving draconic masters. Or better, a kindrid, an elvenoid with a magical tie to a particular dragon, able to go on missions beneath the dignity of a dragon, or that required a smaller frame or nimbler fingers.

Bonding a kindrid was reserved for adult dragons, usually of some station, it just wasn’t possible for someone as young as Bryll to pull it off. But as far as he could determine, no other dragon had ever cast the Summon Familiar spell, even though it seemed to have much the same result.

Today he’d decided he’d cast the spell to see if there was an elvenoid creature within range worthy to serve as his familiar. He wasn’t sure it would work, but he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t. With a deep breath, he focused his mind and began to cast.

L-Space was a comfortable closeness. Dor walked through the book-lined corridors with a purposeful stride. She held Camelot’s Excalibur card in her right hand, the tingle at her shoulders traipsing down her arm to her fingers where she pushed it through the card, guiding her. The feeling wasn’t as strong as when she’d been fused with Jean Grey, the process wasn’t as easy as planeswalkting to a friend in a library, but it felt correct.

Quite suddenly, the L-Space in her mind banked to the right, then to the left, and her footsteps no longer felt as certain. She pushed harder at the card, pouring more mana through it, searching for that pulsing echo she’d felt so strongly while fused with Jean. And after several lengths further, the L-Space corridor branched before her: one curving to the left, one to the right. The one on the left was filled with giant, leather-bound tomes, books far too big for her to pull off the shelf, let alone peruse. The one on the right held books of the expected size. She turned to the right and took a step, but before she could take another, she was jerked off balance to the left corridor, pulled through it by a force she couldn’t fight. A high, lilting chant filled her ears, puling at her, drawing her on.

Dor tumbled end over end through L-Space and when she landed it was on a hard, smooth stone floor–knees, shoulders, and elbows bruising as she tumbled and eventually came to a stop with a grunt, limbs splayed, clothes askew. She was glad she’d worn jeans rather than a skirt.

The first thing she did was check her wand on her left hip. If it had been damaged, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Ever since Professor Sprout had bought it for her, magic had come easier and at less cost. She didn’t want to lose the valuable tool. Once assured her wand was undamaged, she pushed to her knees and checked her bookbag, the laundry bag was still in its spot, so she had all her possessions. The next thing to do was figure out where she was and whether or not there was a library nearby.

“Excellent, it worked. Hello, my new familiar.”

Dor blinked away a few tears and pushed to her feet. A few yards away, standing beside a stone table, leather bound book open upon it, was a boy in shades of purple. He had dark mauve hair, bright amethyst eyes, and pale periwinkle skin. He had delicate, narrow features and long, pointed ears. His clothes were fine and embroidered and like nothing Dor had ever seen before.

“Where am I?” said Dor.

“This is the library in the home of my grandmother, the Dragonlord of Clan Majyst. I summoned you here.”

“You what?”

“And I must say I’m already impressed with your command of High Draconic.”

Dor blinked again and shook her head. She wondered how hard she’d hit it on the stone floor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I need to leave.” When the boy had mentioned they were in a library she’d realized the large room sported a wall of bookshelves. For all that the floor was cold stone and there wasn’t a cushion to be seen, the room did have the comfortable feel of a library.

“You can’t go. I just summoned you.” His voice turned plaintive and he looked at her with such genuine appeal, she relented.

Dor took a deep breath. “Let’s start over. My name is Dorothy. You may call me Dor. What is your name?”

“Bryllyance Majyst of Clan Majyst. You may call me Bryll. All my sisters do. At first I didn’t like it, but now I’m all right with it.”

“Bryll, it is a pleasure to meet you, and I realize you’re excited, but I have a task I need to focus on.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Come on. I want to show you to my sisters.”

Dor felt herself bristle. She didn’t like being ordered around. She wasn’t interested in doing what she was told just because she was told. She liked to think she’d made some progress in standing up for herself in the last several months.

“No, Bryll. I have to go,” she gestured at the books.

But the mauve-haired boy grabbed her hand and she felt a tug of magic, a compulsion to do what he said, to go where he wanted, and before she knew it, he’d lead her from the room at an excited pace.

“They’ll all be so amazed. I don’t think a dragon’s ever cast Summon Familiar before. Dragons can have kindred, of course, I’m sure you’re well aware. But not dragons so young as me. I’ll be the first. You’ll be the first too. The first kindred of a young dragon. Isn’t that exciting?”

Dor bit her tongue. She didn’t know how to reply without offending him and that odd magical tug somewhere in her chest, made her feel she ought not offend him. Which was irritating.

“Bryllyance, where are you taking me?”

“My sisters are probably in the library drawing room. They’re almost always there, debating and meditating and so on. We amethyst dragons are really interested in meditation.”

“What do you mean… you’re a dragon?”

“Of course,” he said.

Dor shook her head. ‘Dragon’ must have a different meaning in this world than hers, because to her eye he definitely had elfin features.

“We’re almost there,” he said. He’d dragged her through narrow stone hallways lit with tall, arched windows, twisting this way and that and Dor had no idea how to get back to the room with the books.

They came to a closed stone door. The boy put his hand on it, but it didn’t move. He wrinkled his nose, then said something in a quiet voice with a quick rhythm. The lock clicked, the door swung open. Bryll pushed the door open further and pulled her through.

The room beyond was massive, far larger than Dor would have thought possible, even in the futuristic world of the X-Men. It was as though all of Xavier’s Institute was but a single room. Great stone arches stretched up the walls to support a ceiling of stone and skylights. Dor was staggered by it for a moment, uncertain what she was seeing was real, before her senses adjusted.

The room paled in comparison to its occupants, a pair of dragons sitting upon their haunches, both of whom towered over Dor. Each was a four-limbed reptilian creature with a long, sinuous tail, but one of them had scales of burnished gold and the other of polished amethyst. The gold dragon was a bit larger than the amethyst, with a pair of frills running down its back to its tail and wings stretching almost as long. The amethyst dragon was polished and smooth with a crown of horns rising from its brow and thick, leathery wings folded carefully against its sides.

Neither seemed to have noticed the intrusion.

“It is highly irregular,” said the amethyst dragon, her tone deep and resonant, filling both the room and Dor’s mind. “You do know if one of you went to one of them, you’d be torn apart immediately.”

The gold dragon made a deep sound, like a grunt of assent. “The point is not how they would treat us, but how we will treat them. Even the least amongst us must be kindly and justly treated. Perhaps especially so.”

“Are these your sisters?” Dor whispered.

Bryll shook his head, eyes wide. His hand tightened on her wrist and he backed up slowly. Dor followed his lead, fear trying to throttle her, heart pounding at her chest.

“Socialization will be key,” said the amethyst dragon. “If this is to work, he’ll need to understand how your way of life and mine are different, but not necessarily opposed.”

The gold dragon grunted again and nodded. “I appreciate your action on this matter, Gemenna. I know how you like to keep your people out of the fray.”

The amethyst dragon nodded. “This could set us on the path to realizing Io’s dream for us. If a young red dragon can be raised amongst gem and metallic, to forge his own path, to break from the cycle of cruelty and violence, it is worth, as you suggest, getting into the fray.”

Dor’s ear was suddenly wrenched so hard she was blinded by tears. She bit her tongue to keep her gasp from alerting the dragons to her presence. And when the grip on her ear pulled, she followed. Moments later, she was hurried down yet another hallway, stone and narrow and lit with glowing orbs at regular intervals along the wall. She gained enough awareness to realize she’d been grabbed by a tall, lithe, imposing man with platinum blond hair and severe countenance. The man’s other hand was on one of Bryll’s ears and he marched the two of them down the hall like a pair of naughty orphans.

Presently they entered an office where the man released them and closed his door with a heavy clunk.

“Bryllyance Majyst, you are the most foolish creature I have ever had the displeasure to teach. What, by Io, made you think it was a good idea to barge in upon your grandmother and Dragonlord Magnern?”

“I… I… I didn’t. I thought my sisters…”

“It has been known for weeks that your grandmother was closeting herself with distinguished guests. You were not meant to know who that guest was nor what they were discussing. I take it your usual lack of attention means you have no idea what was going on in that room?”

“Um…” Bryll shrugged weakly. “I was focused on leaving quietly.”

“Well that, at least, is good news. Care to explain why you decided to enter even though there was a locking spell upon the door?”

“They’re always trying to lock me out,” said Bryll. “They’re no fun. But I wanted to impress them. I cast Summon Familiar.” He gestured at Dor.

The tall, severe elf barely flicked a glance at her. “Yes. Congratulations. You’ve summoned a stinking, filthy human.”

Dor bristled. She’d taken a shower just that morning and Squirrel Girl’s strawberry-scented shampoo smelled pretty good, she thought.

“Your lack of forethought, awareness, and plain common sense is getting tiresome, Bryllyance. You are smarter than this. You must begin to behave like it.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Headmaster Finnaolin. I’ll do better. I promise.”

“I have my doubts, child.” The elf, Headmaster Finnaolin, went to a cupboard in the corner of his office, opened it, and withdrew a long, thin, switch. It wasn’t as heavy as Mr. Quillon’s cane or even Sister Mary Margaret’s, but it made Dor’s chest clench all over again.

“Oh, please, Headmaster Finnaolin…”

“You know what to do, you stupid child.”

Bryll sniffled and nodded. He unbuckled his belt and drew it though the loops of his fine, silver-blue trousers, letting the clothes fall to his ankles so he could step out of them, leaving him bare from the waist down. Dor was surprised to see he didn’t wear any sort of undergarment. His periwinkle skin was smooth and hairless and his boyhood was short and compact. He went to the heavy wooden desk at the center of the office and bent over.

Headmaster Finnaolin nodded then, finally, turned his attention to Dor. He tapped the desk with a knuckle of the hand gripping the switch and said, slowly and loudly, “Bend. Over.”

Dor blinked at him. “Excuse me? I don’t think so.”

For a moment, the severe-looking elf looked nonplussed, as though he hadn’t expected her to speak, much less refuse.

“You speak High Elven?”

Earlier, Bryll had been surprised at her ability with High Draconic. Now this man said the same with High Elven. Both sounded like languages, but languages she hadn’t heard of before. As far as she could tell, they all spoke English. Perhaps it was a feature of being a planeswalker.

“Headmaster Finnaolin, my name is Dorothy Alice Wendy. I am a planeswalker. I was on my way to return a stolen artifact when I was pulled off course, presumably by Bryll’s summoning spell. I did not mean to walk in upon the dragonlords’ meeting, nor am I responsible for having done so.” She felt confident as she spoke, and liked the feeling.

Finnaolin’s expression turned from surprised to furious. “You would dare? You would dare speak to me like an equal? You will bare yourself and bend over for proper chastisement upon your flesh as is my right as Headmaster of Bryllyance Majyst’s education.”

Dor had been subject to many spankings growing up, none of which she’d consented to, few of which she’d thought she’d deserved. Since her first planeswalk, she’d discovered, more than once, that she occasionally felt she was deserving of a spanking. But this was not one of those times, and she was not at all interested in submitting to an unjust spanking.

“Absolutely not.”

 Before she could react, Finnaolin gestured and she felt her body compressed from all angles, held by an invisible force. He gestured again and her body lifted and was whisked to the edge of the desk where her arms were stretched across the plane of wood and her body bent over it. That same force jerked at the waist of her clothes, pulling down her bluejeans and purple panties baring her in a blink.

She couldn’t move. Struggling was futile. All she could do was cry with fear, frustration, and anger. She felt Finnaolin come up beside, his presence hard and cold. She heard the swish of the switch as he drew it back and when it struck the sting pulled from her a pitiful mewling. Tears of repeated sting joined tears of embarrassment as the man spanked her again and again with that biting switch. Though she’d hated Sister Mary Margaret’s insistence on stoicism, Dor wished she could manage it now, to show this arrogant man she had not submitted to him, he had not broken her, and his power over her was temporary.

Unfortunately, she sobbed like a little girl, the switch stinging her bottom in a rapid march from the tops of her thighs to the small of her back and down again. She felt thoroughly chastened though she’d done nothing wrong. She sobbed into the desk as Finnaolin went to Bryllyance’s side and similarly spanked him.

Bryllyance was no better at taking a spanking than she was, sobbing and squirming from the outset. Dor focused hard on her own discomfort, desperately choking back sobs, trying to get herself under control, to breathe evenly though her throat was ragged and her chest heaved.

The pressure on her released, and Dor pushed to her feet. Allowing herself no time to lie there crying, she jerked her clothes into position and turned to face the man who’d so unjustly chastised her. But Headmaster Finnaolin had no attention for her. Instead he had Bryll by the arm and was leading him unceremoniously to an oversized door against the far wall. Bryll had been given no opportunity to pull his pants up. He looked so like a chastened little boy in a shirt long enough to cover only half his bright red bottom.

Dor took that moment to make sure of her bookbag, still on her shoulder, and her wand, still at her hip. Neither had been dislodged by her rough treatment.

Finnaolin opened the door with a gesture. It pushed outward into a much larger room and he dragged Bryll through into it.

Dor drew her wand and followed. Her whole body throbbed with righteous anger and sore bottom and deep breaths. She fairly vibrated with it, skin atingle, mind sharpened. She wasn’t going to attack Finnaolin, but she was definitely going to speak her mind and if he tried whatever it was he’d done before, she was ready to react.

Finnaolin pulled Bryll to the center of the large room.

Dor entered to just inside the doorway.

The room as not as big as the room where the gold and amethyst dragonlords had held conference, but it was still quite big. Two walls were filled with giant, leather-bound books, much like the ones she’d seen in L-Space, much too large for someone their size to pull off a shelf or open or read. There was a workbench along one wall with all manner of tools, knickknacks, and geegaws she had no name for. And in one corner was a pile of coins (copper, silver, gold) and shiny gems of all shades and hues. At the far end of the room was a second, over-large door.

“Shed this form at once,” Headmaster Finnaolin demanded of Bryll. “You shall read Tellah’s Treatise on Transfiguration, and I shall quiz you on the details in the morning.”

“But I’ve read it a dozen times,” Bryll whined.

Dor winced even before Headmaster Finnaolin smacked the boy’s bottom.

Bryll yelped and danced though Headmaster Finnaolin held him firmly.

“You continue to disobey?”

“No!” Bryll said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’ll do it.”

Headmaster Finnaolin let the boy go, backed up several steps, and crossed his arms firmly.

Bryll rubbed his bottom piteously with one hand and wiped his tears with the other. Then his form wavered and shifted and grew and Dor blinked heavily, the throbbing tingling thrill in her body filled her to overflowing. She felt faint, like she might collapse, and swallowed hard, closing her eyes again and taking a steady waterbending stance.

In the darkness behind closed eyes, the throbbing of her body manifested as a point of light. And with each painful pulse, intensified. Within moments, a playing card manifested. But the card was empty, no text, all in shades of grey. It was an empty spell, waiting to be filled.

Dor opened her eyes and the shifting form of the periwinkle-skinned boy grew and changed. His hips and shoulders broadened, his arms and legs thickened. His posture bent so he went down on all fours. Ridges sprouted from his spine and a tail grew from above his spanked bottom. Wings pushed out above his shoulders. His periwinkle skin grew thick and bumpy until he was covered in scales. His neck grew long. His jaw jutted forward, and within moments, the boy had become a dragon.

In watching it happen, Dor felt her mind expanding, like something learned. She knew she could learn this power as a spell. She could do it deliberately. All she had to do was focus the throbbing of mind, body, and soul, combined with witnessing this power, and pour it into the card. It was a metaphor, and a messy one, but she was certain it would work.

She closed her eyes. Her thoughts pulsed rhythmically.

The grey-chrome card hung in the nothingness behind her eyelids and she reached for it, focusing on how it had felt to witness the shifting from humanoid to draconic. And slowly, ever so slowly, that card filled with light: white, blue, red, all with a golden sheen, like a halo. And when it was full a gold-bordered card dropped into her metaphysical hand.

Dor’s Dragonform 

Cost:    2RRU

Type:    Creature – Dragon Mage

Text:     Haste (this can attack and T as soon as it comes under your control.)

Flying (this can't be blocked except by creatures with flying and/or reach.)

First strike (this deals combat damage before creatures without first strike.)

P/T:     3/5

“I suppose I’ll have to figure out how to send you home.”

Dor blinked rapidly and gripped her wand tighter. She focused her gaze on the mean man in front of her. He frowned at her.

“No. I can find my own way, thank you.”

Headmaster Finnaolin scoffed. “You were summoned here by magic, you stupid creature. So unless you are familiar with the properties of teleportation, arcane or psionic, I strongly doubt you can find your way to whatever dirty hovel you call home.”

Dor gestured at the books against Bryll’s wall. There was plenty there to access L-Space. “As I was trying to tell you earlier, I am a planeswalker. My method of travel—”

Headmaster Finnaolin scoffed again and raised the hand holding the switch.

Dor reacted.

He might not have been threatening her, but she wasn’t about to let him get anywhere close to spanking her again. She flicked her wand and thought of Expelliarmus and in a flash of light, the switch spun from his hand and across the room. He backed up a step, startled.

“You dare use magic against me? Where did you steal that wand? Give it to me immediately.”

He stepped forward and Dor felt the pressure of force he’d used to bend her to his will. She reacted again, thinking of Jubilee. Whistling sparks of pink, yellow, and blue leapt from the tip of her wand, taking the elf full in the face. He cried out and staggered back.

She realized this man would never believe a human was capable of anything. He’d insist on treating her like a stupid animal because he could think nothing more of her. Dor took the moment of his disorientation. She held her wand in both hands and closed her eyes and flipped through her grimoire. [Dor’s Dragonform] had taken its place with the other gold bordered cards, just before [Gems’ Fusion]. It was labeled a creature like [Ben’s Petrosapien] and she hoped that meant it would behave similarly.

The symbols in the upper right, the cost, was greater than any she’d cast before, but she hadn’t used much mana since leaving Xavier’s Institute, and she was certain, especially with wand in hand, she had plenty of mana still to use.

The art of the card did not depict Bryllyance Majyst, the spanked little boy turned amethyst dragon. Instead it showed a purple dragon with shiny, amethyst-like scales and golden ridges running down her spine to her long, whip-like tail. Some of her amethyst scales were golden instead and her eyes were bright white. It was the first of the cards in her grimoire to depict her.

Purple and yellow. Perhaps those could be my heraldic colors.

She poured her magic through the card and felt herself shift and change. The magic started at her center and pushed outward, growing rapidly. Her spine shifted and bent until she fell to all fours. Her clothes ripped to shreds and she grimaced. She worried for her bookbag, her wand, and its sheath. She didn’t want her few gifted possession destroyed by reckless shapeshifting.

She had an idea.

She thought of [Pince’s Catalogue], ordering her mind and putting herself in the room thereof. She thought of her wand, sheath, and bookbag and pulled at them, drawing them into the mind space, as though the thought summoned. Here, in her personal mental space, they would remain safe.

Her shoulders tensed and bulged and swelled. She hunched against the discomfort then wings sprouted rapidly from her back and a tail from her backside and horns along her brow ridge and down her spine until she opened her bright white eyes and knew she’d taken the form depicted on the card in her grimoire.

She was a dragon.

She felt large, powerful, quick. She felt warmth deep in her chest, where her magic resided. A quick look around the room showed her it was smaller than before, or so it seemed. She felt properly scaled to it now. Like she could easily take a book off the shelf to peruse, or poke her head into Headmaster Finnaolin’s study, or take a cozy nap on the bed of coins and gems. She saw Bryllyance, a young amethyst dragon, smaller and younger than her, looking at her in shock, a wide draconic smile on his face. She looked at Headmaster Finnaolin, rubbing the sparks from his red-rimmed eyes and looking about furiously.

She did not tower as the dragonlords did, but Headmaster Finnaolin was no taller than shoulder height to her and she crouched, bending her thick, sinuous neck to face him, getting as close as she dared. He blinked blearily, tears streaming down his cheeks, before recognizing there was a second dragon in the room.

He looked about to say something, then bit his tongue.

“My guess is you overstepped, forcing yourself upon a draconic guest of this house,” Dor said, her voice a growling timbre. “You are quick to pass judgment without taking the opportunity to listen. You are unreasonable, Headmaster Finnaolin. And unless you want your transgression reported immediately to the dragonlord, I suggest you walk away.” She clicked her large, draconic teeth threateningly.

Headmaster Finnaolin backed up several steps, eyes wide, jaw working. Finally he swallowed hard, bowed, turned, and fled to his study. The door closed behind him with a timid click.

Dor felt immense satisfaction spread along her shoulders to her wings, which she stretched high and wide, brushing the walls and ceiling of the room before folding them back against her body and sitting up straight. Her bottom still stung from the thorough switching, but it was different in this form. Both haunches of her rear legs and the underside of the base of her tail stung. Even so, she sat and refused to wince, planting her fore-claws between her rear claws and wrapping her tail around them. She drew herself to her full draconic height and looked down at Bryll who was looking wide-eyed between her, the closed door, and back. Eventually he sat, mimicking her posture, down to the tail wrap, though he winced when his bottom hit the stone floor. He wasn’t as tall as her and he didn’t stretch to his full height.

“You’re a dragon? I’ve never seen an amethyst dragon with golden bits before.”

Dor shook her head. “As I’ve been trying to explain: I’m a human, a mage, and a planeswalker. You pulled me from L-Space. You’ve interrupted my quest.”

Bryll shook his head in wonder. “I’ve never heard of a human who could turn into a dragon.”

“It’s magic,” said Dor. “A spell.”

“You must have studied Tellah’s Treatise on Transfiguration over and over again to have learned a spell like that. Especially as a human. I didn’t think humans had the lifespan for that kind of studying.”

“You and your master don’t seem to have a high opinion of humans. Why did you summon me if you don’t like humans?”

“Oh, I don’t dislike humans,” said Bryll. “I’ve never met a human before. If they’re all like you, they must be a fascinating species.”

Dor shrugged. “I couldn’t say. But that’s neither here nor there. I’ve got this quest, you see, so I need to be on my way.”

“You can’t leave,” said Bryll.

Dor felt that tug of magic at her chest that compelled her to obey. She tried to object, instead what she said was, “As you say.”

Bryll brightened, smiling. “Excellent.”

Chapter Text

Bryllyance was endearingly enthusiastic in an exceptionally annoying way. He wanted to show Dor everything in his room, from myriad projects scattered across his workbench, to every book on the bookshelves, to his favorite coin collection.

“This is the fifth minting of the Siliqua of the Ceseli dynasty in the human lands. They minted seventeen variations, each depicting a different wonder of the dynasty on the back. See? I’ve got one of each.”

He was like a little kid with a new best friend, and Dor might have had more patience for it if hadn’t kept ordering her about.

 “Tell me what you think of...”

“Come look at this!”

“Wait there. I want to show you...”

And each time he told her what to do, even though he didn’t seem malicious, Dor felt that tug of compulsion, that geas of magic, forcing her to obey. Whatever spell he had used to summon her forced her to do whatever he told her to. It was enormously frustrating, and every time she tried to get a word in, to explain, again, who she was, what she was doing, and what he had done to her, his enthusiasm rolled over her objections. Eventually, she resigned herself to patience. He couldn’t talk forever and he was not malicious. As soon as she was able to explain, she felt certain he would release his accidental hold on her.

Eventually he wound down and, with a sigh, withdrew a draconic-sized tome from one of the bookshelves. “Would it be okay if I read it aloud to you?” Bryll asked as he set the book carefully on the floor and opened it. “It’s so much easier to get through the tedium if I can read aloud. Please?”

Though it was phrased as a request, the plaintive tone to his plea tugged at that compulsion upon her. Dor might have tried to resist, but despite everything she was growing fond of the dragon boy. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d been isolated and without friends herself. She took a deep breath through her elongated nostrils and reached for patience.

“All right then.”

Bryll stretched out on the smooth, stone floor of his room. Dor felt a faint pressure. It wasn’t magic, but that same force Headmaster Finnaolin had used to push her around. Bryll used it to hold up the book. Dor stretched out beside the younger dragon. She found moving in the form of a dragon was natural enough so long as she didn’t think about it too much, much like being in the form of Doralee or the petrosapien.

Bryll started at the beginning of Tellah’s Treatise on Transfiguration. According to the foreword, Tellah had been a brilliant and powerful human mage in the service of a silver dragon.

“How many kinds of dragons are there?” Dor asked.

Bryll gave her a funny look. “Are you serious?”

Dor nodded. “I keep trying to tell you, I’m not from this plane of existence. I don’t know anything about your world.”

Bryll’s lips parted in a draconic grin and gave a raspy giggle. “My sisters are going to be so impressed with me when I show you to them.” His expression turned thoughtful for a moment, then, with a gesture that tickled at the back of Dor’s shoulders, he pulled a book from the bookshelf with that invisible force. It was a slim volume, bound in plain brown leather. Bryll set it atop the larger magical tome, opened it, and began to read.

Great Io, the Ninefold Dragon, the Eternal Wheel, the Sire of All Creation, looked upon the wild lands to see what realm his first, best children, the dragons, had quartered for themselves.  His opalescent eyes widened.  He had expected his children at the rightful head of creation, ruling a harmonious world.  With their natural majesty and boons, nothing less would he accept.  Such gifts of size and claw and wing he had given them! He had graced them with breaths of power, the might of spells, long life, and more. But there was a price to exact for the cost of these gifts, and when Great Io saw the lands below, he knew the price had not been met.

All dragonkind was scattered across the world, at odds with each other, immersed in Dragon War.

Io bled upon Ioearth, each droplet sizzling in the sea until they cooled and became an archipelago called the Blood Chain of Io and bid the dragons live there in harmony. So was born the Council of Wyrms.

“There are fifteen races of dragon: five chromatic, five metallic, and five gem. The chromatic dragons are cruel, the metallic dragons are benevolent, and we gem dragons are cool, logical, and above the fray. We largely seek to stay neutral when the metallic and chromatic dragons begin their bickering.”

Dor nodded, her thick, sinuous, dragon neck weaving. She wondered what it meant then that Dragonlords Gemenna and Magnern had been discussing the presence of a chromatic. Was there really one of the vicious, evil dragons here in the amethyst’s land? Could such different moral alignments truly live in harmony?

Bryll put aside the History of Ioearth and returned to Tellah’s Treatise on Transfiguration. Bryll dove into the book, reading with enthusiasm Dor couldn’t help but find infectious. The book was dense and complicated and assumed the reader had a base of knowledge Dor lacked, but she reminded herself she’d read several books that had initially been over her head while studying at Hogwarts, and did her best to keep up.

Eventually, Bryll’s enthusiastic reading slowed. He yawned in the middle of a description of protons and neutrons, mass and space. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since leaving Xavier’s Institute, how long she’d lingered in L-Space, how long Bryll had been reading to her, but she found herself yawning as well.

“You can share my horde, if you want,” Bryll said.

Dor blinked at him, uncomprehending.

Bryll pushed himself to all fours with a tired heave and walked to the pile of coins and gems in the corner. At human-sized, Dor had thought the pile massive. At dragon-sized it looked comfortable enough for a pair of dragons if they were friendly. The coins and gems were smooth and cool against her thick, scaly hide. She and Bryll pressed into the pile. It reminded her of digging her toes into the beach outside Beach City.

Bryll snuggled up close to her. Dor didn’t feel like they knew each other well enough for snuggling, but she didn’t think he meant any harm, so she let it be. Besides, now he’d stopped the incessant talking, he was kind of adorable.

Bryll soon breathed the easy rhythm of the sleeping.

Dor let herself slip to the room in her mind. Here she was in her humanform. Her bookbag rested upon the table, and her wand in its sheath atop the bag, where she’d stashed them upon transforming into a dragon. She was glad that trick had worked. Hopefully, in the future, she could shapeshift without shredding any more clothes.

Though she was tired and Bryll’s horde of coins seemed a safe enough place to sleep, she didn’t like that she was trapped here. So she walked around the table to the narrow doorway interrupting the bookshelves. She reached for the copper knob as she would reach for L-Space, to travel between planes of existence. But before her hand could grasp it, she felt uncomfortable, shrugging and turning away from the door. That now familiar tug itched deep in her chest. Dor wanted to hate Bryllance for what he’d done to her, but couldn’t find it in herself to do that either. She wondered if that was because she really thought he hadn’t meant to, or if the summoning spell tying her to him prevented her from being angry with him.

Unable to escape through the room in her mind, Dor decided to stick with her original plan, to explain to Bryllyance Majyst that he’d trapped her and trust that he was a good person.

Dor sat in the large, cushy chair in the room in her mind, pulling the black and yellow Hufflepuff quilt over her, settling her mind and waiting for sleep. She tried not to think too hard about how she wished she could be elsewhere.

With friends.

She missed Kya especially, and felt bad she hadn’t already visited the Chens. When she’d left, there’d been trouble and she hoped the family was all right. She had visited Minwu first because of the pregnancy. She’d visited Jubilee next to get help with the artifacts. Even so, there had been time to visit the Chens while staying with the X-Men. She just hadn’t done it.

Dor had to admit she felt guilty about the trouble she and Kya had brought to the Chen’s home. She felt guilty about having not already visited, and the longer she put it off, the worse she felt. She even felt guilty about leaving Kya to face Agni Kai alone, though she hadn’t had much choice in the matter.

Just before she fell asleep, Dor resolved that as soon as she was free of Ioearth, she would visit the Chens.

In the morning, Bryll stuck his snout into Headmaster Finnaolin’s study. When he turned back to Dor, his expression was stunned amazement.

“You must have really startled him. He’s given me a free day and said nothing about the quiz. He never forgets to give a quiz once assigned.”

Dor felt warm satisfaction that she might have put the arrogant man off. “Bryll, I wanted to talk to you about—“

“Hey! Let’s get some breakfast. The vassals are always up and about by now. They make these wonderful treats called pastries. We’ll have to transform into elvenoid form though. Or, if you want, we could go down to the crystal caves. There’s a pool there where the fishing is good. I know it’s a bit unusual for amethyst dragons to take humanoid form, we tend to prefer psionics to magic, but I enjoy the challenge.”

“That’s part of what I’m trying to tell you. I am a human, remember?”

“Oh yeah. I keep forgetting.” He tilted his head and gave a toothy grin. “Transform then, and let’s get pastries.”

Dor tried to object and couldn’t, tried to refuse and couldn’t. Her grimoire opened in her mind and she accessed [Dor’s Dragonfrom]. As with [Gems’ Fusion] and [Ben’s Petrosapien], casting the spell a second time transformed her back into her humanform. Her spine uncurled, her wings shrank, her tail retreated, her skin smoothed until she stood, pale and nude, a human once again.

“Um, sorry, but you have to wear clothes as an elvenoid. They get upset if you don’t.” Bryll stood nearby, clad in dark purple clothing with golden trim.

Dor blushed furiously. It wasn’t just that she stood naked in front of a boy, but that she had transformed because he’d told her to, that she hadn’t had an opportunity to prepare.

With a thought, she slipped to the room in her mind. In her bookbag was her laundry bag and she reached in to pull the first clothes that would come to hand. In haste, she pulled on purple panties with a black X on the seat, black socks, black skirt, and beige button up shirt. There were no shoes in the laundry bag and she remembered destroying them when she transformed into a dragon.

When she reemerged from her mindspace, she was clothed. She’d forgotten to grab a brassier from the laundry bag, but wasn’t about to take her shirt off so she could put one on. Not in front of Bryll.

“But I guess you already know that rule, being a human. Come on, let’s go.”

Dor padded after the periwinkle-skinned boy.

As he prattled on about pastries, Dor wondered if she would have to take her shirt off to put a brassier on. Emerging from the room in her mind fully clothed, made her wonder just how flexible that skill was. Still walking, she slipped to the room in her mind and reached into her laundry bag, selecting a modest white brassier with more care than she’d chosen the rest of her outfit.

“Dor? Keep up.”

Dor shook from the room in her mind and realized she’d stopped walking to focus. She hurried to catch up with Bryll, biting her tongue on a caustic remark. She clutched the brassier in one hand. With a quick thought, between steps, she put the brassier back into the room in her mind and decided she could experiment more later. Her shoulders tingled and she wondered if this was a skill she could develop into a spell. The idea that she might develop her own spell, without seeing anyone else do it first, was exciting, despite her frustrating situation.

The kitchen was a large room of the same stone that made up all the rooms and hallways Dor had seen so far on this plane. There was a bank of stoves and ovens along one wall and a myriad of elvish staff worked between the ovens and stone counters housing sinks and cupboards. Along one wall were three tall, wide windows and accompanying balconies looking over a rocky shore and glittering seascape, giving the kitchen an aura of brine.

The kitchen staff were polite to Dor and regarded Byrll as a favored younger sibling. Bryll took a seat on a stool at one of the counters and Dor sat next to him. The elven staff proffered them a breakfast of fruit pastries: strawberry, peach, pear, and blueberry tarts. There was also hot tea and cold milk. Dor sat with Bryll and enjoyed a few of each along with a cup of cold milk. Bryll was quiet while he ate, allowing Dor to wonder about the differences between the elves of Ioearth and the elvan of Ivalice. They both seemed to be a variation of elf, but the elvan of Ivalice were quite tall while the elves of Ioearth were short and slight.

The breakfast pastries cooked by the elven staff in house of the Majyst amethyst dragons were almost as good as those served at Hogwarts. Dor felt a little guilty comparing the wealth of food of House Majyst to the wealth of food of Hogwarts when she knew the orphans of St. Bridget’s would receive mediocre bread and thin porridge for breakfast. Overcooked eggs if they were lucky.

Breakfast would have been pleasant if not for that hint of tugging magic that made her feel as though she were required to enjoy it.

“So,” said Bryll, “what shall we do today, Dor?”

The tense knot of magic loosened in Dor’s chest, as though asking her opinion had loosed the hold.

“I would like to talk for a while,” said Dor. “To get a couple things straight between you and me.”

But before she could go further, an amethyst dragon, larger than Bryll but smaller than Dragonlord Gemenna, alighted upon one of the balconies outside the kitchen.

“Bryllyance. I should have known you’d be here.”

Bryll stood from his stool with a delighted squeal. “Sophitia! I’ve been meaning to see you. I want to introduce you—“

“Mother has a task for you, Bryll.”

Dor watched Bryll’s face fall as the older dragon, likely his sister, interrupted him. She wondered if that was why Bryll had a tendency to cut her off, to get his words in before he could be interrupted.

“All right. But I was hoping—“

“Take your true form and go to the docks of Elfport. One of the vassals will meet you there with instructions.”

Sophitia launched from the balcony in a rush of wind and scraped stone.

Bryll watched her go with a heavy sigh.

Dor stood beside him. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Bryll looked at her, eyes sorrowful, and nodded. Then he frowned. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

This was her chance, but Dor hesitated even though she felt no compulsion to do so. “Let’s save it for later. I want to make sure I’ve got your full attention when we talk.”

Bryll shrugged and looked out over the sea. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Bryll said. “Mom’s tasks are always boring.”

But Dor remembered the conversation between Dragonlords Gemenna and Magnern, and she got the inkling this task might have something to do with it. She wanted to help Bryll, if she could. Even though she desperately wanted to see Kya, even though she wanted to return the artifacts in her grimoire, she also wanted to help. So many people had helped her since she’d started this unexpected adventure, and she wanted to help where she could.

“I’ll come with you,” Dor said.

Bryll brightened a bit. He stepped out into the balcony and Dor followed.

“It’ll be faster if we fly, said Bryll. Change back, and we’ll go see what mother wants.”

Dor felt the magical compulsion return, like an itch she couldn’t quite reach. Her grimoire opened in her mind and [Dor’s Dragonform] shone with gold and purple light. Quickly, before the shape change could shred her clothes, she slipped to the room in her mind and stripped them off. A moment later, the clothes popped from physical space to her mental space and she stood naked on the balcony over the ocean. Before now, she had always used the room in her mind while meditating, preparing to sleep, or otherwise relaxed. Trying to use it while engaged physically was proving difficult and embarrassing.

Her shoulders tingled and Dor became certain she was on the right track to creating a new spell, a spell to interact with the room in her mind. A grey-chrome card flickered through her mind, just like shen she’d learned [Dor’s Dragonform], and she tried to fill it, but it slipped away from her. Then her body bent and shifted, grew and stretched, until she stretched her wings high above.

“Follow me,” said Bryllyance, exuberance returning to his voice. The dragon crouched, then leapt, propelling himself with his wings. Dor watched him pump his wings laboriously to push into the air.

Dor tried not to think too hard about the mechanics of flying. Instead, she crouched, spread her wings, and leapt.

Dor launched into the air, wings tight against her body. She felt weightless and free, her scaly hide buzzing, her brain tingling, exulting in the freedom of it. In moments, she’d surpassed Bryll. When she felt the inertia of her initial thrust wearing off, she snapped open her wings to catch the air and immediately felt its movement, the variations as it eddied. She took in a lungful of the seaside brine and tilted just a bit to let her wings carry her out over the ocean. After a bit, Bryll caught up with her. His flying had smoothed, but wasn’t as effortless as hers.

“You’re so fast,” said Bryll. “Are you sure you’re not a dragon? Originally, I mean. Because you said you’re a human, and, nothing against humans of course, but I just can’t imagine a human being able to fly like that. Have you had a lot of practice?”

All manner of answers shuffled through Dor’s mind like a pack of playing cards. Instead, she folded her wings against her body and dove for the ocean. She could see a thick school of fish gathered just below the surface of the rippling water and opened her draconic jaws wide. The fish scattered when she broke the surface but she caught a few in her mouth and gulped them down with a good portion of saltwater. In her human form, she would have gagged, but raw fish and seawater in this form was like the thickest of casseroles at Hogwarts.

Dor’s dive slowed as she descended through the water, the light off the surface bright and sparkling above her, the deep quiet of the ocean calming. She spread her wings and angled them to push her back to the surface. At the same time, the grimoire in her mind opened.

There was a difference, she noted, in looking into the room in her mind and stepping into it. Looking in, to shuffle through her grimoire, could be done with a momentary glance. Stepping within to remove or put on her clothes, took much more doing. Moving physical objects between the physical world and her mental room required effort.

Again, the empty, grey-chrome playing card flickered to mind. As with [Dor’s Dragonform], she thought she could fill it, create a spell, a spell that would make shifting between the physical and the mental easier.

The empty card flickered away and she turned to [Kya’s Waterbending]. Though she couldn’t take the same waterbending stance Kya had taught her while in dragonform, touching the card allowed her to adapt it to this six-limbed shape. She spread her wings and legs, bending the salty water around her, then thrust upward, letting the water push her along.

Dor burst from the ocean surface with a gush of water, back into the sky, to join Bryll, who looked at her agog.

Dor shook herself midflight, scattering seawater. “This is so amazing!”

“You’ve never flown before?” Bryll asked.

Dor looked at Bryll. “Nope.”

“So, you just know how?”

Dor considered. The card for [Dor’s Dragonform] bore the words: Haste, Flying, and First strike. She was reminded again that though she could read the cards, could intuit what they meant, that there were some phrases that lacked context, like there was a comprehensive rule book for the Multiverse she just didn’t have access to.

“I think it’s part of taking this form. Certain aspects are just… intuitive.”

“Wow. You must be a brilliant student of magic. Are you sure you should be my familiar?”

“I never said—“

“Oh, look, there’s Elfport. Come on, Dor!”

Dor ground her teeth at being interrupted again. She followed Bryll as he banked along the coast to a city in the distance. On their approach, Dor could clearly see that the main thoroughfares were wide enough for a handful of dragons to walk along abreast, but all the sidestreets were sized for elvanoids.

Dor assumed they’d land outside of town and walk to the docks. Instead, Bryll, swept out past the port city and approached the docks from the ocean. Several ships bobbed gently in the water, against the jutting docks, sails furled. The dock was crowded with folks going about their business.

“Bryll, we’re not landing at the docks, are we?” It seemed too crowded, too disruptive.

“Yup!”

Bryll dove for the flag-stoned space between the docks and the wharf. People looked up as his shadow loomed, and they scattered, making way for the pair of dragons. Bryll’s landing was awkward, kicking up wind and scattering debris. Dor waited for him to settle before gliding in and putting her feet to the stone as gently as she could, trying not to disturb folks any more than necessary.

Once landed, Dor looked around, embarrassed. She’d tried to train herself out of feeling like she had to flinch away from every confrontation, but this felt less like she was being confident and more like she was intruding. These folks shouldn’t have to scramble just because a pair of dragons decided to drop in. No one objected, but who would tell a dragon they were being rude?

“Ah, there she is.” Bryll motioned with a muzzle at a woman with long silver hair and amethyst bright livery. She nodded at them, expression neutral. Bryll ambled across the wharf toward the elf and Dor followed.

“Master Bryllyance.” The elf bowed at Bryll. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.”

“This is Dorothy. I summoned her here. But you can call her Dor. She’s extraordinarily good at flying, did you see?”

The elf woman nodded. “Of course, Master Bryll. Lady Movyllance has asked me to introduce you to a foster. He’ll be taking lessons with you.”

“Oh? Fascinating. Clan Majyst doesn’t take on many fosters. From what clan?”

The elf woman gestured. “If you come with me, I’ll introduce you. You’ll have to take your elvanoid forms though. Your mother wishes us to be circumspect.”

“Right,” said Bryll in a conspiratorial whisper that carried. He shifted from dragon to elven form.

Dor didn’t understand how shapeshifting on the wharf was in any way circumspect, but she let her grimoire flip open in her mind and prepared to shift shape again. She’d expended a lot of mana already this morning and though she didn’t feel near exhaustion, she was glad for all the practice she’d gotten in the Danger Room, casting spells one after another.

The tingle of [Dor’s Dragonform] itched at her shoulder blades. She held on to it, not letting the power flow through the card and change her shape. Not yet.

Instead, she focused on the empty spell, the grey-chrome playing card. It flickered into being, resting atop the open grimoire. Then she stepped into her mindspace, nude. The grimoire was open upon the study room table and the empty spell sat atop it. She stepped up to the table and picked up the card.

It was light in her hand, like the thinnest of glass, only waiting to be filled.

Dor got dressed in the mindspace and let herself transform from dragon to human in physical space. Her wings shrank into her shoulders, her form lifted and straightened, her hide softened to skin. She slipped from the room in her mind as her humanform took hold and a moment later stood, fully clothed, wand at her hip. She felt warm accomplishment at not being suddenly naked on a city street in front of strangers.

She wanted to cheer out loud.

The elf in purple livery lead them down the main thoroughfare to a narrow side street, listening to Bryll’s prattle about what a great flyer Dor was. Dor followed along, but her attention was for the empty spell. It was eager to be filled, and she poured the feeling of accomplishment, that desire to cheer, into the blank card. In her mind’s eye the grey-chrome playing card shifted to white, the blank textboxes clacked with print, the art box become a window upon the room in her mind.

Dor’s Mindpocket

Cost:    W

Type:    Sorcery – Instant

Text:     Exile target permanent you both own and control. You may return that permanent to the battlefield any time you could play an instant.

The art depicted her study room, the bookshelves full but tidy, the table precisely in the center, her clothes folded and stacked, her wand atop them. A thrill of accomplishment danced up and down her spine. Each other spell she had learned came from observing someone else. But this she had created on her own.

The white-bordered playing card shone brilliant white in her mind, then slipped into its place in her grimoire between [Ben’s Petrosapien] and [Harry’s Expelliarmus].

Chapter Text

The inn was low-ceilinged and dim, though it smelled of spices and was well swept. Dor had half-expected a seedy, rundown place for conducting clandestine business, but perhaps that would have been too obvious. The elf spoke with the innkeeper, an elven man in a thick apron. Then she led Bryll and Dor into a private dining room in the back.

“Master Bryllyance, Ms. Dorothy, please wait here. I’ve ordered you some breakfast pastries.” She gave Bryll a small smile and Bryll blushed.

Despite having just eaten in the kitchen of Clan Majyst, and the mouthful of fish and seawater, Dor found herself hungry. She wondered if it had anything to do with magic use and shapeshifting.

As soon as the woman left, a young elven boy brought in trays of pastries, setting them on the table. Bryll perused the pastries. The elven boy bowed and turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Dor said.

The elven boy stopped and looked at her, perplexed, then nodded and hurried away.

“Look at all this, Dor.”

Dor turned to look, not even bothering to fight the magical compulsion in her chest.

Bryll reached for one, then hesitated. “You spoke to that elven boy.” He didn’t look at her, staring instead at the pastries.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“He brought us food. A ‘thank you’ is polite.”

“He was only doing his duty.”

“A ‘thank you’ is still polite.”

Bryll looked up at her, eyebrows quirked. “But he works on the island of Majyst. My grandmother is the Dragonlord Gemenna Majyst. Essentially, everyone who lives here and isn’t a dragon is a servant of my clan. Does one thank servants where you come from?”

Dor shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Probably not. But even if others don’t, it’s still polite.” Dor was beginning to get the impression that Bryll was a bit of a spoiled brat. She wondered if all dragons were that way. 

Bryll took a pastry and ate it, expression thoughtful.

Dor took one herself. Like the pastries in the kitchen of Clan Majyst, it was sweet and flaky and warm and wonderful. The strawberry filling tasted of summer.

After two, Dor was sated. Bryll ate a third, and then a fourth, and as he was reaching for a fifth, Dor said, “Bryll. Perhaps we should leave some for our guest?”

He blinked at her, pursing his lips in thought. Then put his hands in his lap with a faint pout. They sat in contemplative quiet until interrupted by a knock at the door. The elven woman, whose name Dor still did not know, opened the door and made room for another to enter.

The boy who entered was taller than Bryll but shorter than Dor. His shoulders were broadening, hinting at the physique he would have when grown. His elven features were fine and pointed, though his ears were overlong and his jaw just square enough to be handsome. He had arched black eyebrows and untamed mane of jet black hair. His eyes glittered like rubies and his skin was ruddy.

Dor didn’t know what the natural color variation of elven skin was, but she suspected this boy, like Bryll, was a polymorphed dragon. A red dragon. She glanced at Bryll to find him staring wide-eyed at the other boy, cheeks a deep violet blush, lips slightly apart, chest heaving.

The boy with the ruddy skin stepped into the room, hands clasped firmly behind his back. He was clad in a black doublet with gold markings and a pair of black leggings. He gave them a look over, then nodded at Bryll, clearly dismissing Dor.

The elven woman came in and closed the door. “Master Bryllyance Majyst, meet Master Ignatius Krull of clan Balagos.

“Clan Balagos?” Bryll’s tone was surprised. “He’s a chromatic? A red?”

“Master Ignatius will be fostering with clan Majyst. He’ll be sharing in your studies with Headmaster Finnaolin. You are expected to help him acclimate to life here, on your grandmother’s isle.”

“But that’s unprecedented,” said Bryll. “No dragon ever fosters with a different subspecies.”

The other boy, Ignatius, stiffened. “If I’m not welcome here, I’ll find somewhere else to go. His voice was smooth with a base crackle, like a careful fire waiting to burst into an inferno.

“No, no,” said Bryll. “I didn’t say that. I just meant...” He looked at Dor, expression pleading for help.

Dor cleared her throat. She’d never been especially good at pleading her case or convincing others. If nothing else, she’d not had the confidence for it. But after several months now of traveling the Multiverse, she did not immediately recoil at the prospect of speaking up. Then she had an idea.

“Headmaster Finnaolin has given you the day off, Bryll. Perhaps you’d like to show us around town?”

“Oh. Um, yeah. That’s a good idea. There’s a patisserie a few streets over that makes the most heavenly pastries.”

Ignatius made a face somewhere between disgust and confusion, but Bryll didn’t notice.

“I’ll leave the three of you to it then,” the elven woman said with a bow.

Bryll led them from the small backstreet inn to the main thoroughfare. Dor looked around curiously at the meticulously refined architecture of the elven town. The buildings were constructed of stone on the ground floors and wood on the upper, the materials joined so cleverly as to seem to flow from one to the other: at once artistic and, to Dor’s eyes, a bit boring. It felt more refined than Diagon Alley, but more artistic than Wakefield, the town near St. Bridget’s Orphanage.

Bryll took them to the wide street running through the center of town. Here the buildings were taller than necessary for an elf and had large, open air doors and windows for dragons to stick their heads and shoulders through. There were no dragons present at the moment and the overly wide street seemed sparsely populated for it. Bryll took them to a building of white stone and dark stained wood with intricate circular windows. Though the buildings all had the same basic construction and colors, this building distinguished itself with a brightly colored sign depicting a variety of fruit and intricate lettering.

The letters were unlike anything Dor had ever seen, but she found she could read it: The Cheerful Patisserie.

Despite the large opening into the building, Bryll entered through the smaller elvanoid-sized door which jingled when opened. Dor took hold of the door and held it open for Ignatius, who’d followed the two of them at a bit of a distance, as though not certain he wanted to be associated with them. He had a quizzical expression when Dor looked at him, but it turned haughty when he saw Dor looking.

Dor would have liked to roll her eyes at him, an expression she’d seen Jubilee perform to perfection innumerable times, but by the time she thought of it, he was through the door.

Bryll was speaking to an elven woman at the counter. She had sun-darkened skin, yellow hair, and the most rotund figure she’d seen on an elf, either here or Ivalice, which is to say she was slightly plump by human standards. Their conversation was animated, Bryll gesturing at Ignatius who sat at a small table by the far wall in the corner.

“He’s a red… a guest. Of my… grandmother’s.” 

The elven woman gave a nod and Dor was certain any subterfuge about Ignatius’ true nature had to be a farce. Bryll’s eyes lit upon Dor and he grinned. “Dorothy! Come here. I want you to meet the Cheerful Patisserie.”

The magic in Dor’s chest tugged and she did as she was told.

She swallowed her frustration and held a hand out to the woman. “Dorothy Alice Wendy. You can call me Dor if you like.”

The woman smiled. 

“How polite. I am Siobhan Yarasphon. You can call me Phon.”

“She made us all kinds of pastries and such to try.” Bryll said.

“Why don’t you join your friends,” said Phon. “I’ll bring out your pastries in a moment.”

Bryll eagerly went to sit with Ignatius, but Phon put a hand on Dor’s arm. The woman still smiled, but there was a hint of concern to her eyes.

“There’s a geas upon you. Did you know?” 

The magic at Dor’s chest tightened. “A geas?”

“A kind of magical compulsion,” Phon clarified. “Dragons are immune to compulsion as far as I know.”

Dor sighed in relief. “I’m a human who can shift into a dragon,” she said. “Bryll—”

Phon held up a hand. “As citizens on Dragonlord Gemenna’s isle, we do not speak ill of her family. That said, if a member of her family has put a compulsion upon a sapient being without permission, that would be grievous indeed.”

Dor nodded. “I don’t think he did it on purpose. He summoned me from L-Space. I’m sure if I can explain, he’ll release it. It’s just hard to get a word in.”

Phon looked past Dor at Bryll with a fond smile. “He’s not a bad boy, but he’s a bit… absentmindedly naughty.”

Dor giggled. 

“If he doesn’t release you, get him to bring you back here and I’ll get you in contact with someone who can help. In the meantime, my pastries really are quite good. Go have a seat. It looks like those two could use a mediator.”

Ignatius slouched in his chair. Bryll had his arms firmly crossed. They sat across the table from each other, each with an expression of irritation. 

Dor approached, reminding herself that, despite her frustration with him, she wanted to help Bryll. She sat in the remaining chair, between them.

“Is there a problem?” Dor asked.

“Ignatius Krull of Clan Balagos seems to think eating delicious pastries is a waste of time.” Bryll huffed.

Ignatius huffed back, a hint of smoke curling from his nostrils. “I am here to learn about the amethyst dragons, not… snacks.”

Dor put her hands palm down on the table. Both boys had an entitled inflection to their tone and it grated at Dor’s ears. “Is there something else you’d like to do, Ignatius?”

The boy blinked his ruby eyes at her, then his cheeks darkened. It was interesting to see a red-skinned being blush.

He sighed. “Whatever.”

“Well, while you think on it, why don’t we enjoy Phon’s pastries?”

The elven woman approached then, bearing a tray of tarts, rolls, and dodgers, all filled or topped with fruit, jam, or jelly. Several small pots of yet more jams spotted the tray. Dor was strongly reminded of the feasts at Hogwarts. Though her morning had basically been filled with pastries, Dor’s stomach rumbled. She wondered if it had something to do with shapechanging, or maybe just being a growing thirteen-year-old girl. She selected a tart with orange-colored jam that smelled of peaches. Bryll selected one with dark purple slices of fruit. Ignatius gingerly took a plain-looking roll and a small white pot filled with red jam.

The pastries were so good, Dor didn’t think about how frustrating it was not to be able to leave for a while. She had one peach, one plum, one raspberry, and one with a greenish-yellow jam she didn’t recognize but that was mildly tart and almost savory.

Bryll was an enthusiastic eater, expressing delight at each tasty pastry. Dor thought he overdid it, but agreed with the sentiment. But when she looked at Ignatius, his nose was wrinkled in disgust. Even so, the pot of jam he’d selected was wiped clean, there were no plain pastries remaining on his side of the tray, and Dor was certain she saw a bit of jam at the corner of his mouth.

“You see?” Bryll said. “That’s why this is one of my favorite places.” He looked at Ignatius.

The red-skinned boy shrugged. “Whatever.”

Bryll blinked at him. “Whatever?”

Ignatius rubbed at his chin and surreptitiously licked the jam from the corner of his mouth. “I prefer… meat.”

Bryll sputtered. 

Dor pursed her lips. She was beginning to suspect the red dragon wouldn’t like anything Bryll chose, that he was being surly to be surly. She cleared her throat. 

“Have you thought of something you’d like to do instead, Ignatius?”

She watched Ignatius carefully and saw a moment of indecision cross his face before he covered it with irritation. 

“No. I’ll do whatever.”

Dor looked at Bryll who still looked at Ignatius, expression a mix of stunned and frustrated.

“What about you, Bryll. Anything else you’d like to show Ignatius?”

Bryll settled in his seat and shrugged. “Well, I was thinking it would be fun to go to the Crystal Shoppe. He’s supposed to be learning about amethyst dragons and crystals can help with psionic focus. But if he doesn’t even like pastries…”

“That’s fine,” Ignatius said quickly.

“Really?” Bryll hopped up, full of hopeful excitement. “Well, if you want to learn about amethyst dragons, the Crystal Shoppe is a good place to start. Gemstones are a psionic focus and no dragon subspecies is more attuned to psionic power than amethyst dragons. There are amethysts of course, but also rubies and emeralds and…”

Bryll got up from the table and led them from the patisserie still chattering on about gems, crystals, cuts, and so on. Dor and Ignatius followed, but Dor hung back a bit to talk with the red-skinned boy as they walked down the main thoroughfare.

“I know it can be difficult,” Dor said.

Ignatius flickered a glance at her. He snorted. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I left home too, not all that long ago. It was an awful place. I was belittled and threatened and beaten. But it was still scary to leave. It was even scarier to make friends of people I’d just met.”

Ignatius didn’t respond.

Dor stayed patient.

Bryll continued to chatter excitedly.

The Crystal Shoppe was down a side street, but still in one of the overly wide streets. Elven folks came and went through the dragon-sized opening, but Bryll opened the elf-size door to enter.

“Come on, you two,” Bryll said. 

Ignatius sighed. Dor grit her teeth. Both joined Bryll.

The Crystal Shoppe was filled with shelves and tables and counters, each displaying what Dor had to assume was a wealth of treasure in the cut and polished stones. There were all shapes and sizes on display, each with a careful label nearby to explain everything from gem to cut to luster to hardness and a variety of other information that was beyond Dor. She noted that the writing was all in that unfamiliar, flowing script, but that she could still read it.

Dor followed Bryll from stone to stone as he excitedly explained what was special about each one. Some could be used to enhance psychic powers. Some, Dor gathered, were just pretty. After a bit, she realized Ignatius wasn’t with them. A quick look found him on the far end of the shop, examining a shelf of rubies.

“Let’s go see what he’s found,” Bryll said, taking Dor’s hand and leading her across the shop to the other boy.

Ignatius looked up as they approached and quickly put on his mask of indifference.

“Find something interesting?” Bryll asked.

Ignatius shrugged. “I’m not a gem dragon. I don’t meditate, so I have no use for a psychic focus. This is… marginally better than sweet snacks.”

Bryll stiffened and Dor could feel the skin of his hand, still in hers, roughen to scales. “But, you said you were fine with… that you wanted to learn about…”

Ignatius gave a practiced sneer. “My old horde had much better gemstones than this paltry offering.”

“Yeah? Well where is it then?” Bryll demanded. “Or maybe you’d like to go back to it instead of hanging around here.”

Ignatius took a step back as though struck.

“Easy, Bryllyance,” said Dor, squeezing his hand gently. She felt the rough scales on his palm smooth to elven skin again. She gave Ignatius a direct look. “You came here to learn, right?”

Ignatius lifted his chin and nodded.

“And you’ve been assigned to take lessons alongside Bryll.”

“I don’t see how that—”

Dor held up a hand and the red-dragon boy stopped. “You are not required to enjoy the same things Bryllyance does. However, you’ve been asked, more than once, if there’s anything in particular you’d like to do today and have only shrugged. If you really don’t have an opinion, that’s fine. If you’re really uninterested, that also is fine. But, if you plan to foster with Clan Majyst, your attitude could use adjusting.”

Ignatius squirmed.

Dor looked at Bryll. “Anything else you like to do here in Elfport?”

Bryll blushed and shrugged and looked at the floor. “I think the library is pretty great. It’s not as extensive as my grandmother’s, but it’s designed for elves, so there’s a bunch of books on elven magic. It’s where I first read about Summon Familiar.”

“Really?” said Ignatius.  Interest lit his expression for a moment before he got it under control. “I mean, I like books, and I’ve always wanted to visit a library.”

“You’ve never been to a library?” said Bryll.

Ignatius blushed. “Red dragons are known for hoarding, not sharing.”

“Come on then.” Bryll held out his hand to the other boy.

Ignatius blinked at him, nonplussed, then took it. The three of them walked down the street hand in hand, while Bryll talked about the fascinating differences between elven and draconic magic. 

Ignatius looked over Bryll’s head at Dor. “Thank you,” He whispered under Bryll’s enthusiasm.

Dor sat upon an armless chair with a thin, but comfortable cushion, pretending to read Hogwarts, a History while actually keeping an eye on Bryll and Ignatius. The Library at Purple Coast, as the sign above the door had proclaimed, was divided into a labyrinth of nooks and crannies. Bryll and Ignatius sat upon a bench, a spellbook open between their laps. They murmured to each other quietly. For whatever reason, the scolding seemed to have done the trick: Ignatius had dropped his haughty mask.

Dor turned her attention to her book without really looking at it. 

Based on what she’d overheard from the Dragonlords, Ignatius was a refugee from the typically cruel red dragons. She supposed that was why he was so guarded. And it might be that the budding friendship between these boys could help dragonkind at large. But Dor found she was happier that Bryll had found a friend who could stick around, that Ignatius had opened up a bit. Now she could focus on getting on with her quest. She just had to figure out how to bring it up with Bryll. But every time she’d resolved to stand from her chair and approach him, the magic at her chest clenched and she couldn’t do it.

With a huff, she tried a different track. 

Dor peered into the room in her mind, and her grimoire flipped open. With a thought she cast [Dor’s Mindpocket], putting Hogwarts, a History away and withdrawing her grimoire. She glanced through the spells, hoping one of them might be the key. She flipped through them quickly, then again more slowly, then she read each carefully. She had just reached Minwu’s suite of restorative spells when the sound of a scuffle caught her attention.

A glance up showed her the boys were shoving at each other. For a moment she thought they were playing around, but then Bryll shoved Ignatius off the bench and onto the floor. Ignatius leapt to his feet and tackled Bryll off the bench and into a bookshelf. The shelf teetered and books fell. The boys crashed to the floor amidst page-fluttering thumps. 

Dor stood as they continued to wrestle about, grunting and snarling.

“Knock it off!” she shouted, but the boys ignored her.

Ignatius managed to get on top, pinning Bryll by straddling his chest. He raised a first and Dor moved to intervene. She stepped up behind Ignatius grabbed him at the elbow of his upraised arm, and hauled him bodily off Bryll.

Ignatius was caught off guard and stumbled to his feet. He wrenched his arm from Dor’s grip, breath smoking. Bryll, too scrambled to his feet, breathing hard, face flushed.

“What are you two doing?” Dor demanded.

“He started it,” Bryll said, voice pouting.

“He called me stupid,” Ignatius growled.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Bryll said as though it should have been obvious.

“You said chromatics act like beasts.”

“Most chromatics,” Bryll shouted. “Isn’t that’s why you left?”

“You don’t know anything about me you stupid, petulant, selfish child!”

Bryll sprang at Ignatius, tears leaping from his eyes, form shifting.

The magic at Dor’s chest flared and she intercepted him, reaching for her grimoire. She shifted into the form of a petrosapien with a sound like sliding glass. Her clothes shredded, but she didn’t have time to care. She caught the purple dragon-boy by the arms before he could shift fully and gave him a shove to put him back on his heels. He’d shifted just enough that his skin was scaly, a pair of horns protruded from his forehead, and a long sinuous tail sprouted from above his backside. He was almost fearsome in this dragonoid form, but his lip quivered and tears slid down his scaly cheeks.

He glared at her, and sniffled. He was about to say something when Ignatius snorted in derision. Bryll yowled like a furious cat and tried to lunge past Dor. 

Dor’s chest flared again.

She reacted by grappling Bryll, her petrosapien form stronger than his dragonoid form. She swung him about as she sat on the bench and found it surprisingly easy to pull the boy over her lap. Something about the geas magic knotted at her chest made it not only easy, but proper, to put the boy in position to smack his backside. Bryll gasped and squirmed, his form shrinking and shifting until he was a purple-skinned elven boy again, bare from tip to toe.

“Dorothy, please, I’m sorry,” he wailed pitifully. 

But the geas propelled her. With a thought, she shifted back to her human form and spanked his bare bottom with a crack that filled their little nook. She heard Ignatius gasp in shock. Bryll whimpered. She spanked his little bottom again and watched it bounce, watched as a deeper shade of purple splotched the skin. 

She raised her hand again, and that’s when she realized she, too, was nude. Shifting to petrosapien form without casting [Dor’s Mindpocket] had shredded her clothes. But she also realized she wasn’t terribly embarrassed. Instead, she felt focused.

She spanked Bryll again and again, keeping one hand on his smooth back to keep them both balanced on the bench, the other moving in a steady rhythm, spanking the little dragon-elf boy. He squirmed and yelped and soon his little elven toes drummed on the wooden floor of the library and he cried, heartbroken. Dor felt his sadness—sadness at his own selfishness, his own failure. The sadness thumped at Dor’s chest and brought tears to her eyes. She stopped spanking the boy and for several deep breaths, no one moved.

Eventually, Bryll pushed himself up to sit on the bench and hesitantly rest his head on Dor’s shoulder.  She put a comforting arm around his shoulders and he relaxed into her. Dor knew what it was like to get spanked without being comforted afterward and she wasn’t interested in doing that to Bryll.

“In sorry, Dorothy. That was stupid of me. Grandmother gave me a task and I let my silly pride get in the way. I’m sorry you had to spank me.”

Dor rested her cheek on his head. His hair was soft and smooth. She found she was fond of this boy despite the geas. “I’m sorry too. I just sort of… did it. I shouldn’t presume…”

Bryll sniffled and cleared his throat. “You were right to. I was extraordinarily stupid just now. If Headmaster Finnaolin had seen me behave like this…”

“That man is mean,” Dorothy said firmly. “And has no standing to give out spankings for being prideful. He’s got more than enough pride for ten dragons.”

Bryll chuckled.

Ignatius cleared his throat delicately and they both turned their heads to look at him.

“Excuse me,” He said, tone delicately polite. “What was that?”

Bryll chuckled through his tears. “You don’t have spankings where you come from?”

Ignatius shook his head solemnly. “Wee have beatings. At best. And this, what you’re doing now…”

“Cuddling,” said Dor. 

“This part doesn’t usually happen,” Bryll confessed, “Usually after Matter Finnaolin spanks me, he gives me an assignment to study. But…” he sat up straight and looked at Dor. “Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder.”

“Happy to oblige. Bryllyance.”

“May I ask another question?” Ignatius said. 

Dor nodded.

“This spanking was punishment for… boorish behavior, yes?”

Dor nodded again. 

“Then aren’t I also deserving of a spanking?”

There was no tugging of magic at her chest, but Dor found herself nodding. Bryll stood and moved to one side.

“I won’t insist,” said Dor. “But if you think you deserve a spanking, I will administer it.”

Ignatius took a deep breath and with a brief gesture banished his clothing to stand nude before her. Ignatius’ elven form was slim but well-muscled. His nipples were dark and hard. A whisp of jet black curls framed his slim boyhood. He was handsome to be sure, and his sudden nakedness stirred Dor’s tummy and caught her breath.

Before she could ask him to wait, Ignatius lay over her bare lap. His skin was warm against hers and his weight made her squirm and tingle. Her pale pink nipples pebbled. Goosepimples rippled up and down her skin. But neither Ignatius nor Bryll seemed to think their shared nudity was anything to balk at.

Taking a deep breath to focus, Dor put a hand on his back to steady herself.

Ignatius’ bottom was firmer than Bryll’s and didn’t bounce as much. His skin was darker and didn’t splotch as much. He hissed and grunted at each stinging smack, but his reactions were far less dramatic than Bryll’s. Dor tried to spank the red dragon boy as she’d spanked Bryll—a quick, sharp rhythm. She was convinced she wasn’t making an impact on the boy, but suddenly Ignatius took a deep shaking breath and sobbed, chest heaving.

Sometime later, after Dor pulled t-shirt and jeans from her mindpocket, after she’d assured the librarian, a serene elf with a hint of concern to his expression, after she’d let the boys cuddle her while they cried into her shoulder, Dor was finally able to tell Bryll about the geas.

“But that’s awful,” said Bryll. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I tried. But you made me promise not to leave.”

“But I didn’t mean it like that.” He hid his face and shook his head. “I just wanted to see if it would work. I just… I just wanted a friend.”

Ignatius put a hand on his shoulder. “I will be your friend, Bryllyance.” 

Bryll looked at the other boy. “Really? Even though I’m a stupid, petulant, selfish child?”

Ignatius flushed dark and for a moment Dor thought he’d react angrily. Then he sighed and shrugged. “I’m not much better. If you’ll be my friend, I’ll be yours.”

The three of them spent a quiet afternoon in the library. First, Dor made them clean up the mess they’d made of the books in their little nook. After nearly half an hour of their bumbling, uncertain how to organize their mess, Dor cast took mercy on them and [Pince’s Catalogue], sorting the bookcase with ease.

Next, they researched the Summon Familiar spell. They were looking for a way to break the connection between caster and target that didn’t involve harm to either party. But familiars were typically non-sapient animals with significantly shorter lifespans than their masters. By the time the sun was setting and the librarian had passed by to remind them of the hour for the third time, they gave up.

“I’m sorry, Dorothy,” Bryll said. “But if it helps, I release you from any promises you made to me that keep you from making your own decisions.”

Dor smiled at him. “I appreciate that. But I’d like to get this taken care of before moving on. If you two don’t mind helping me that is.”

“Not at all,” said Bryll.

“This research has been wonderfully interesting,” said Ignatius.

“Maybe we’ll have more luck in grandmother’s library,” said Bryll

They left the Library at Purple Coast and made for the wide thoroughfare. The sunset was a riot of red, orange, and pink along the horizon over the ocean. The sky above was blue darkening to purple.

Ignatius cleared his throat. “You asked what I wanted to do today, and I had nothing useful to contribute. But I have an idea now, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” said Bryll, enthusiastic.

“I have enjoyed taking this form,” said Ignatius, gesturing at himself. “I quite like shapeshifting.” He blushed and looked at them defiantly. When they didn’t mock him, he cleared his throat and continued. “But I’ve been without my wings for all the weeks it took to sail here. I would like to fly.”

Bryll grinned. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying in my grandmother’s fortress. There’s a spare room next to mine.”

The three of them shapeshifted to dragonform, Dor remembering to cast [Dor’s Mindpocket] before ruining another set of clothes, and they leapt into the air. Ignatius was a better flyer than Bryll, but not as good as Dor. They kept pace with the amethyst dragon before banking out over the ocean, letting the shifting currents move them to a warm pocket, giving them lift enough they could glide all the way to the fortress of the Dragonlord.

Dor woke in the middle of the night. She was sprawled in a pile of dragons, coins, and gems. Bryll and Ignatius were curled on either side of her. In her human form, she’d have found the situation distinctly awkward, but in dragonform it was perfectly comfortable.

For a moment, she thought her dreams of far off, incredible places had returned, the dreams that had sent her daydreaming and gotten her spanked back at St. Bridget’s, but a few moments later, a spell from her grimoire flashed in her mind: [Minwu’s Esuna]. She extracted herself from pile, shifted to human form, and pulled the grimoire from her mind. She even managed to use her mindpocket spell to get dressed and was pleased at how seamless the process was.

Dor turned to the correct page and put a finger on [Minwu’s Esuna]. In the art, Minwu sat in peaceful repose, limned in pale green light. All about her was abstract depiction of pain and suffering, but the light of the Esuna spell banished them all. She read the text:

Text:     Choose one or both:

Remove up to two -1/-1 counters from target creature you control.

Destroy target Aura you don’t control attached to a creature you do control.

Perhaps that was it. The Esuna spell could remove enchantments cast by someone else. She didn’t know if Bryll’s Summon Familiar spell would count as an enchantment, but perhaps the geas part of it would. The tingle at her shoulders intensified and Dor pushed the power within her through the playing card, focusing the power to a particular purpose. That power washed over her and she felt the knot of compulsion in her chest loosen and release.

“Goodbye, boys,” she whispered. “I’ll visit sometime. Try to be good to each other.”

Chapter Text

Shirou Ono slipped his arm through Kya’s as he walked her back to her parents' house. They’d been seeing each other for three weeks now, spending every Sunday together at the vendors’ market she liked. They would gawk at the street performers and eat fried food and peruse the trinkets. He had purchased her a folded paper flower. It wasn’t much, but he thought she’d like the gesture.

They’d only met a month or so ago, at the market, but Shirou found himself thinking about Kya a lot. He knew his grandparents wouldn’t approve of him courting a waterbender, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her soft brown skin, her wavey hair, her bright blue eyes. He coulsdn't stop thinking about walking with her through the market, discussing everything from neighborhood politics to when the new Avatar would be announced. 

As they rounded the corner to Kya‘s house, he pulled her a little closer and she snuggled into him.

“Thank you for coming out with me, Ms. Chen.”

Kya giggled. “Thank you for taking me out, Mr. Ono.”

The sky had been grey all afternoon, and the smell of rain was thick on the air. Shirou wondered if she would invite him in should it start raining.

Dor walked through L-Space with deep breaths and light shoulders. Being free of the geas Bryll had put upon her felt wonderful. She only hoped the dragon boy didn’t resent her for leaving in the middle of the night.

She put Bryll out of her mind and focused on Kya. Last time she’d tried to find Kya through L-Space she’d found herself in an abandoned library. This time she caught the scent of rain and found herself in narrow stacks of scrolls on her left and wood-bound books on her right. A few moments later, she slipped through to a narrow building with creaky wooden floors and a dusty smell. A small woman with an iron bun and narrow spectacles looked up at her from where she read behind a counter, her expression startled.

“Oh. Um, pardon me, ma’am.” Dor hurried from the shop before the woman could say anything.

She found herself in the marketplace Kya had taken her that last day in Republic City. She recognized the festive atmosphere if not the stalls and merchants and performers. After several moments of disorientation, she became fairly certain which way to go to find the Chens’ house. She was just approaching the edge of the market when she caught sight of Kya from behind, her dark, wavy brown hair unmistakable.

Dor’s breath caught.

She was about to call out when a boy approached. He was tall with pointed features and dark hair and bright golden eyes and Kya smiled at him in a way that made Dor bite the inside of her cheek. Her lip trembled and her shoulders slumped and she wasn’t certain why until the two started walking together, close, shoulders almost touching. They walked in the direction of the Chens’ house.

Dor stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans, not certain she wanted to follow, not certain she wanted to be left behind. After a moment more, she followed at a discreet distance.

A cool autumnal breeze skittered through the streets, playing with Dor’s hair and tickling her bare arms. The rain she’d smelled in L-Space intensified and she shivered. The boy walking with Kya put his arm in the crook of her elbow and pulled her a little closer. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.

Around her, speckles of rain put tiny dark spots on the streets. Dor felt their brief, cold kisses on her arms and face.

Eventually, Dor recognized the block on which the Chen’s house and restaurant stood. She stopped at the corner of the block and watched Kya and the boy walk to her front door. It was unblemished, Dor noticed, no sign of the fire started by Elmira, Toshi, and the firebending Agni Kai gang. She was glad the Chens’ home hadn’t suffered any lasting damage, but she still felt bad for her part in bringing that trouble upon them. Her bottom tingled and her skin tightened.

Dor huddled close to the corner of the block, hoping neither would notice her. The boy pulled something from his pocket, a flower, slightly crumpled, bright red and orange and yellow. He smoothed out the petals and Dor realized the flower was made of paper. He handed it to Kya who took it with a shy smile. Then he leaned in and Dor was gratified to see Kya take a step back. A relieved sigh made her chest throb and tingle, tears slide down her cheeks. She wiped at them, ashamed, but continued to watch.

The boy smiled and took a step back. He waved at Kya who waved back, and then he turned and continued down the block away from Dor.

Kya took a deep breath, chest swelling, then suddenly looked to her left, at Dor.

Dor hunched and ducked out of sight, putting her back to the stone wall of the building behind which she hid. She felt silly. Kya was her friend, she was here to see her, but now she was embarrassed to have been caught spying. Of course, that wasn’t really what she’d been doing. She hadn’t meant to interrupt… whatever that was.

“Dorothy? Is that you?” Kya’s voice carried through the faint patter of sprinkling rain.

Dor squeezed her hands into fists and hunched her shoulders as her cheeks burned. She bit her tongue and tried to control her breathing. She was suddenly more nervous than she’d ever been, more than when talking to Mr. Quillon, more than when she’d been about to be spanked by Sister Mary Margaret, even more than when she’d stared into the face of the Infinite Library certain she’d be erased as a paradox.

Kya came hurtling around the corner. She stuttered to a stop when she realized Dor stood against the wall. Kya turned to face her, eyes shining, chin quivering.

“I… I’m sorry,” said Dor. “I should have—”

“You’re alive,” said Kya. Her voice caught and squeaked. Kya put her hands behind her back and took a step back. “I didn’t know… I thought maybe you weren’t coming back.”

“I meant to,” said Dor. “I should have come earlier. It’s just…”

“It’s okay,” said Kya. “I’m really glad… You’re looking well.”

“Are your parents okay?” said Dor. “I was so afraid something… but the house looks...”

“I put the fire out. After you and that girl disappeared, Toshi and his thugs were spooked. They took off. But yeah, my parents are fine.”

“Good.”

The rain picked up: heaver, fatter, colder.

“They're out, you know. My parents. At a show I think. It’s Sunday.” Kya held a hand out to Dor. “You want to come inside?”

Dor bit her lip and nodded. She took Kya’s hand. It was like lightning when they touched. Her heart jumped and skipped, then settled to a gallop.

Kya grinned, cheeks turning rosy. She led Dor down the street to her house and let them in. She took Dor upstairs to her room, closing the door firmly behind them. With the door was closed, when they were alone and private, Kya grabbed Dor in a fierce hug, squeezing her shoulders tight.

“I really thought you had died,” Kya said. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Dor’s heart swelled and she returned the embrace. After a bit, Kya broke free from the hug and sat on her bed, inviting Dor to join her with a gesture. 

“So what happened? You escaped? Is that firebender girl still after you?”

Dor shook her head and launched into the tale of Hogwarts School of Wizardry, Ravenclaw’s Diadem, and paradox in the Infinite Library. She told Kya about Xavier’s Institute and the school at Mysidia and the dragon-boys of Majyst Isle.

“And now I’m trying to figure out how to get all these artifacts back where they go. Minwu suggested a telepath might help, so I’ve been mediating with Jean. I’ve… I should have come to visit though.”

Kya shrugged awkwardly. “You were busy. It’s… It’s all right.”

“No. I feel really bad. I thought I could return Excalibur, but I got pulled off course… I should have visited, but I was worried you or your parents were hurt. And I was embarrassed at having brought trouble to your house. And the longer I put it off, the worse I felt.”

Kya chuckled. “If it’s any consolation, mom spanked me for that.” She nudged Dor.

Dor looked at her hands in her lap, blushing hard, tears in her eyes. “Not really,” she mumbled.

“Come on. It’s okay, really. None of us are hurt, and Toshi’s grandfather got that punk to lay off us.”

“Are your parents mad at me?”

“Of course not. If anything, they’re worried about you. Besides, I told them it was all my fault. Which is true, by the way.”

Dor shrugged again.

Kya cleared her throat.

There were several moments of uncomfortable silence.

“So. These artifacts. That means you’re not staying, doesn’t it?”

Dor looked up from her lap at Kya who looked out the window. Rain streaked the glass.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re going to go away again. On purpose this time. You have to if you’re going to return the things that creepy librarian stole. And you can’t just not return them. Right?”

Dor nodded. “Is that why you were with that boy?”

Kya looked at her sharply.

Dor swallowed hard. “I was trying to find you and ended up at the market. I saw you, but you were with that boy. I didn’t want to interrupt… whatever that was. So I just followed.”

Kya's sharp look faded to a grin. “Are you jealous?”

Dor hid her face in her hands. She didn’t think she was the jealous type, but she had to admit she hated the idea of Kya with a suitor. “Maybe.” She mumbled into her hands.

Kya put a hand on her back and rubbed soothing circles against her t-shirt. Dor leaned into her.

“I started seeing Shirou a few weeks ago. He’s sweet. I like him. Certainly he’s a friend. I don’t know if he’s more than that. I don’t know if I’d want him to be.”

Dor sniffled and tried not to cry.

“But he doesn’t have your intelligence, or your courage, or your strength.”

Tears slid down Dor’s cheeks. Kya continued rubbing her back.

“But I didn’t think you were coming back. And if you’re going to leave again, I understand, but I don’t think I can just keep… wondering when you’ll come back.”

Dor cleared her throat and nodded even as she leaned harder into Kya. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” said Dor.

“It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not. It was reckless of me to put your family in danger with the Agni Kai.”

“I already told you. I got spanked for that.”

“But I didn’t. And it was rude of me not to come back when I could. It’s selfish of me to be jealous that you might have a suitor.”

Kya cleared her throat and shrugged. “All that traveling you’ve done. Haven’t there been any boys you thought were interesting?”

Dor blushed. “Not really. Admittedly, Ignatius is quite handsome, but…”

“Dor, if you promised me you’d stay, I’d tell Shirou he and I can only be friends. But you can’t promise me that, can you?”

Dor shook her head and cried into Kya’s shoulder. Kya held her close and kissed the top of her head. Rain pounded the room in a steady drumming drone. Dor didn't know how long they sat like that, how long she cried, but as her tears let up, the rain increased.

“Feel better?” Kya asked.

Dor shrugged. “Not really. I’ve been terribly unfair to you. I’ve been selfish. I wish it was me your mother had spanked instead of you.”

“Well, if you like, I could…” Kya slid her hand down Dor’s back to her hip and patted her sharply though her jeans.

Dor bit her lip.

“But only if you want,” said Kya, patting her again.

Dor considered only a moment before nodding. She unbuttoned her jeans, squirming them down her hips to her knees. She kicked off her shoes as Kya scooched back so Dor could stretch out across her lap. She pulled her auburn braids over her shoulder to keep them out of the way. Her skin tightened. Her heart thumped. Her loins ached. Not only did Dor feel she deserved this spanking, but she was excited for it. She shivered when Kya put a hand on her back to push her t-shirt up. She held her breath when Kya took hold of the waistband of her bright purple panties and pulled them to her knees. She closed her eyes, gripped the bedsheet in her fists, and pushed her bare bottom up just a bit.

Kya spanked her hard.

Dor yelped in surprise. She tried not to kick but couldn’t help but squirm.

Kya giggled and rubbed Dor’s bottom where she’d spanked it. “There’s a pink splotch.”

“Yeah, that happens,” Dor said, breathless.

“Your skin is so smooth and pale.” Kya ran her fingertips along the curve of Dor’s bottom, over the stinging mark.

Dor shivered.

Kya spanked her again, the other cheek this time. Dor hissed with the sting. Her heart thumped and her breath came short. Kya ran her fingers along her bottom again and though the gentle touch made her shiver, made her squeeze her eyes closed, she ached to be spanked again. When it came, Dor cried out. She always cried when she was spanked, but this felt different. Her skin tingled and her chest tightened and as Kya smacked her bare backside again and again, alternating cheeks, making a thorough job of it, Dor felt a breathless fire within, a fire that wanted to be freed.

Getting spanked by Kya wasn’t like anything else. It wasn’t the harsh discipline of Sister Mary Margaret, nor was it the lovingly stern spankings of Minwu, or even Jean. It hurt, to be sure. It stung like mad, and Dor cried freely, squirming and sweating and drumming her toes on the bed. But it was also like the hot chocolate of the Hufflepuff common room. It filled her with warmth and she wanted more. The fire built, sliding from her chest to her loins. She felt hot and slick and longed for… She pushed her face into the bed and squeezed her thighs tight and grit her teeth. The heat built until she felt she must burst with it.

And then the spanking was done.

For a moment, Dor tensed, waiting for it to continue, for it to burst her from the inside, but it didn’t and that tension faded. She slumped across Kya’s lap and couldn’t help but pant through her tears.

Thunder grumbled under the pounding roar of the storm.

“Are you all right?” Kya’s voice came as though from down a long corridor.

Dor tried to respond, but her throat wouldn’t work, so she nodded.

Kya rubbed her hot bottom in smooth, slow circles, sliding across both cheeks, the heel of her hand catching at the crease of her thighs. Dor grunted with each intense thump.

Kya made a little sound of interest and rested her hand over that hot, damp crease, then her fingers slid between Dor’s thighs to that most private of places, hot and slick. Dor gasped and tensed.

“What…”

Kya pulled her fingers away. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

“What was that? What were you…” Dor cleared her throat.

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“Want you to do what?”

Kya giggled, then cleared her throat. “Are you serious?” But before Dor could answer, she said, “You are, aren’t you? You’ve never… pleasured yourself?”

“Oh. That. No. The sisters said it was a sin. They used the cane on anyone they caught doing it. I don’t even really know…”

“Well that’s just cruel. There’s nothing wrong with it.” Kya put her hand back on Dor’s bottom and rubbed gently. Her smooth touch was nice against the stinging skin. “You sort of seemed like you... I thought you might want me to…” she rested her hand over the crease of her thighs again. “I’ve never done it for someone else before,” Kya said. “Did it hurt?”

“No.” Dor had caught her breath and her body was relaxed, her mind was slow, but that spark of fire still smoldered deep within. She pushed her bottom gently against Kya's hand. 

Kya slid her hand between Dor’s thighs. Dor shifted and spread herself just a bit. Kya’s fingers touched the burning warmth of her lips and Dor groaned, high and long. The sound was unexpected but swallowed by the storm. Tears of embarrassment slid down her damp cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Kya asked.

Dor tried to respond. She hoped she made the right sounds.

Kya slid her fingers the length of Dor’s lips and back. And then again and again, and the rhythm of it mimicked the rhythm of the spanking.

Downstairs, the door banged open and Kya’s parents trod heavily into the home. Dor squeaked and pushed to her knees, all in a panic. Kya got to her feet, hand to her chest. Before Kya could say anything, Dor, pulled up her panties and jeans, breathing hard.

“It’s all right,” Kya said. “They’ll be happy to see you. We just have to… um… pretend like nothing was happening.

Dor nodded wide-eyed and chest-thumping.

They needn’t have worried. Kirima and Po Chen were delighted at Dor’s return. Once they’d shaken the rain from their umbrellas and jackets, they each wrapped Dor in firm, warm hugs, and Mr. Chen decided to cook even though everyone had eaten while they were out. They all joined him in the kitchen and Dor found it was easy to reintegrate herself into the Chen household. She considered what Kya had said, that she’d tell that boy they could only be friends if Dor promised to stay. She decided to give it a try.

At dinner, Dor told her story from the very beginning. The Chens hung on her every word. She took her time, savoring the spiced meat and buttered rice and fried vegetables. She described the wonder of Hogwarts and the cruelty of Mr. Quillon and the careful planning of paradox.

“That was quite clever of you,” Mrs. Chen said.

Dor blushed and demurred. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back earlier.”

“You’re like a wandering warrior,” Mr. Chen said quietly. “You have a task. Your drive to complete it will not allow you to be tethered.” He picked up his soup bowl and sipped the thick, cloudy broth.

The rain did not let up.

Dor stood at the back door to the courtyard, just under the shelter of the roof awning, watching the water pound the flagstones. Brief flashes of distant lightning lit the courtyard. Distant rumbles of thunder echoed across the sky.

Kya stood next to her, shoulder to shoulder, watching the rain. Each of them held a bowl of the broth Mr. Chen had made for the noodle soup. It was warm, steaming, and fragrant against the cold scent of rain.

Dor shivered at a flash of lightning. Kya leaned into her as the thunder rumbled.

Dor wandered the halls of L-Space, bookshelves towering over her, stuffed to the brim with pages bound. Her hair, free of its braids, hung loose around her bare shoulders. Her bottom, well spanked, pulsed gently in time with her whispery steps down wooden floors. Everything smelled of warm soup, dry ink, and far off rain.

She knew she slept. She could feel her body lying next to Kya’s, warm under the covers, safe from the storm, but her mind drifted from aisle to aisle in the Infinite Library within her mind. Every book that had been, would be, or could be was somewhere in there, expertly catalogued, and they were all hers now.

She peeked through the halls of L-Space, peering through the Blind Eternities and the planes beyond, drifting without aim or tether, mind smooth and wandering.

Presently, she found herself looking from L-Space to the cottage where Minwu and Li lived. She was never quite certain at what point in their twenty-five hour day cycle they would be, so she could be interrupting meal time or bed time or class time and didn’t want to intrude. The Ornitier family kept a pair of bookcases in the corner of their entryroom, allowing her an uninterrupted view into the house.

The bedroom door was closed and the sitting room dark. Dor felt her mind settle as she looked into the darkened house. She assumed they were in bed, asleep. Then she heard muffled groaning. Concerned, she approached, not quite leaving L-Space. She heard a gasp and breathy shudder.

As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, Dor realized she could see someone moving. A few moments later, she could make out Minwu, faint moonlight from the window shining off her naked form. Minwu sat on the floor of the entry room, reclining on her elbows, knees up and legs spread. Li knelt before her, one arm cradling one of her thick thighs, face buried between her legs.

Dor’s cheeks lit afire and her whole body tingled. She was at once mortified and intrigued. As she’d explained to Kya, Dor knew little about sex, only the basics: that sex was for married couples making babies. But this was something else. There was no way Li would make Minwu pregnant like this. Clearly, this was for pleasure, and the way Minwu squirmed and moaned, it was extraordinarily pleasurable.

Dor bit the inside of her cheek, remembering Kya’s fingers between her thighs.

She was about to leave when Minwu suddenly cried out, her elbows slipping from under her, pale pink hair splaying, body spasming. Minwu put one hand over her mouth even as she continued to groan in pleasure. Li lifted to his knees and looked to the closed bedroom door, tense. After several moments, Minwu looked too.

“Still sleeping,” Li whispered.

Minwu laughed quietly. Li joined her and for several moments they dissolved into a fit of giggles, covering each other’s mouths, unable to stop themselves.

“Shush, shush,” said Minwu. “You’ll wake the babies.”

“Me? You’re the one crying out in ecstasy.”

Minwu spread out flat on the floor and sighed. “You’re damn right. That was amazing Li. Thank you.”

“Happy to be of service.” He chuckled deep in his chest. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yup.” She reached for him and he bent down, bracing himself with his thick arms.

“And what is that?”

Minwu put one hand on his shoulder and reached the other for his waist. Dor couldn’t quite make out the details in the moon shadows, but Li stiffened and groaned.

“You sure?” he asked.

Minwu bent her knees, spreading her legs wide and Li pushed to her.

Dor’s cheeks and loins burned. She left them to their privacy, hurrying her mind through the corridors of the Infinite Library, mixing and splitting within L-Space, her private path through the Blind Eternities, back to her body, hot against Kya’s, burning and aching and pulsing.

She woke, feverish and slick with need. With a deep breath, her eyes snapped open. Even in the dark of the bedroom, Dor could see Kya’s face, eyes open, staring at her from only inches away.

“You’re awake,” Dor said.

“Can’t sleep,” Kya said.

“Why not?”

“The girl I have a crush on is naked in bed with me.”

Dor blushed and bit her lip. She had a couple nighties she could have worn, but when Kya slipped into bed naked, Dor had decided to follow suit. 

“Do you still want to…”

Kya nodded.

Dor reached for her. Kya's skin was soft under her fingers, but her body was firm. Dor slid her hand to Kya’s waist and held on to her. Kya leaned her face close to Dor. Their noses bumped. Kya tilted her head and kissed Dor, a quick peck on the lips, and pulled back. Dor wanted more. She squeezed Kya’s hip and kissed the other girl back, long and deep. Kya’s hand groped for Dor, sliding to her loins.

“I don’t, um, I’m not sure…” Dor whispered.

“Should I stop?”

“It’s not that, I just don’t know what to do.”

Kya giggled. Door blushed. Thunder grumbled in the distance.

Kya pushed from under the covers and sat up, leaning back upon the wall against which her bed stood: naked and shining and perfect. “Come join me.”

Dor shifted and sat up, her bare shoulder and hip touching Kya’s. Kya was warm, even against Dor’s feverish skin. Kya smiled at Dor and put a hand on Dor’s right knee.

“May I?”

Dor nodded quickly, breath shallow and anticipatory. Kya slid her hand up Dor’s inner thigh and Dor shivered at the tickle. When Kya’s fingers touched her lips, she moaned gently. She was slick and hot and Kya’s fingers slid easily between her folds.

“What you want to do is find this bit here.” Kya’s fingers found a little nub of pleasure within and stroked it gently before moving in careful, rhythmic circles. “Like that.”

Dor swallowed hard and nodded.

Kya withdrew her fingers. “Since its your first time, maybe… maybe you should do it yourself, so you, um… so you know what it’s like. And then, maybe next time, um…”

Dor nodded. She reached her right hand to Kya who took it in hers, then she watched for several moments as Kya bent her knees and spread her thighs and slid the fingers of her right hand to her own loins and between the lips. Dor did her best to emulate Kya, holding her breath as the fingers of her left hand found easy entrance between her slick folds. She sighed and shuddered and leaned into the other girl as she found that nub of pleasure and let her fingers move upon it. Kya stretched out her left leg so she could hook it around Dor’s right, their knees interlocked, pulling them closer together.

Dor knew orphans at St. Bridget who’d been spanked with the cane a week straight for committing less. Even now, after all these months, she could not help a small part of herself that worried what would happen if Sister Mary Margaret caught her, that feared going over that broad woman’s lap for a humiliating bare bottom spanking.

And yet…

Dor sat upon the bed with a dear friend, nude and wide, well-spanked at her own request, feverish and slick and learning something new and wonderful as the storm of a world impossibly distant from St. Bridget’s Orphanage granted them thunderous succor. 

Chapter Text

Dor was woken by the smell of breakfast.

She stretched, pointing her toes and arching her back. Her body tensed and shivered and relaxed. She felt warm and comfortable. Next to her, Kya shifted and Dor opened her eyes to find the other girl looking at her with sleepy eyes. 

“Could I ask you a favor?” Kya said in a dreamy voice.

Dor nodded. 

“If it’s not too much trouble, could I have a kiss?” 

Dor blushed and nodded again. 

Kya tossed aside the covers. The bedroom was significantly cooler without covers. Dor gasped, but before she could scramble to cover her nakedness, Kya was atop her, straddling Dor’s hips. Dor put her hands on Kya’s waist, uncertain what else to do with them, not knowing what came next. She looked up at Kya, marveling at the girl’s wide hips, narrow waist, and full breasts with large, dark nipples. Dor could only wish to be half as beautiful as Kya, knowing she looked like a pale, skinny child next to her. 

Kya leaned down, bracing herself with her hands, so her torso covered much of Dor’s. She was warm and firm. She put her face near to Dor’s, smiling broadly. Dor smiled in return. 

“Thank you,” Kya said, and she kissed Dor’s lips gently.

When Kya started to pull away, Dor grabbed her by the shoulder and put a hand on the back of her head.

“Just a moment. I was hoping I might have a kiss as well,” Dor said.

Kya’s eyes went wide and she nodded.

The second kiss was longer and slower than the first.

Downstairs, Mr. and Mrs. Chen sipped tea.

Dor would have preferred coffee, but didn’t complain when she was handed a cup. Breakfast was mild broth and sweet rolls fresh from the oven. The four sat around the Chen’s table enjoying a quiet breakfast. Dor knew that, as soon as breakfast was done, she and Kya would be expected to help prepare for the lunch crowd. Most of the cooking was done by Mr. Chen, but there was chopping and mixing of ingredients, moving and stacking of deliveries, scrubbing and rinsing of dishes to be done throughout the day.

Dor cleared her throat gently. “Um, uh, I just wanted to say, um, thank you, again, for allowing me to stay with you… again. And I’m sorry about leaving the way I did.”

Mrs. Chen nodded but said, “There’s no need to apologize. You’ve already explained. And you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

Dor blushed and blinked back tears.

After breakfast, Dor noticed Kya pluck something off the small table in the entry room. She caught only a flash of color: red and orange. It was the paper flower that boy had given her. Dor bit her tongue on a jealous remark. It was none of her business she told herself and tried to put it out of her mind.

Dor did her best to chop as Mr. Chen had shown her, gripping the back of the blade between thumb and forefinger just above the handle, using a rocking motion, slicing rather than pushing, but she was still far slower and clumsier than Kya, who stood next to her at the counter in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Chen did the cooking, with Mrs. Chen alternating between that and interacting with customers. Mrs. Chen was the only one of them who regularly faced the window to the street where the customers sat upon stools and ate at the counter. Kya would much rather chop vegetables than interact with people she didn’t know.

Finished with her onion, blinking back onion-induced tears, Dor looked down with pride. 

Kya scoffed at her. “You’re still too slow.”

Dor looked up. She felt an angry retort on her lips, but it faded when she saw Kya’s gentle grin and mischievous eyes. Dor had always avoided conflict at the orphanage, but now she stuck her tongue out at her friend and was rewarded with a giggle.

“The faster you cut, the less they make you cry.” Kya poked at Dor’s ribs and Dor yipped when it tickled.

“Would you two behave?” Mrs. Chen snapped from where she stood next to Mr. Chen. There was no anger in her tone, but Dor hunched her shoulders. “If you’re done chopping, bring me those onions,” Mrs. Chen said in a gentler tone.

The girls picked up their cutting boards, Kya with twice as many onions as Dor, and moved around Mr. Chen to Mrs. Chen who cooked chopped vegetables in a wide pan, stirring them with a slotted wooden spoon. They poured their chopped onions into the pan.

“We need more garlic,” Mrs. Chen said. “One bulb each.”

Kya snagged a pair of bulbs from a box on the counter and tossed one to Dor. 

Dor bobbled the garlic and nearly dropped it, just managing to catch it against her chest. Kya laughed, edging around her father to get back to their work station. Dor bumped into Mr. Chen as he took a step back. He grunted softly and gave her an indulgent smile. 

“Scuse me,” Dor murmured and shuffled around. Kya was already crushing her garlic with quick, efficient presses, like it was a race. Dor grabbed at Kya’s ribs as she approached and was rewarded with a surprised squeak. 

“Don’t do that,” Kya said. “I’m really ticklish.” 

“Is that so?” Dor said archly.

Kya’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.” 

Dor set to separating and crushing her garlic clove as Mr. Chen had taught her. 

“Dor, you wouldn’t, would you?” 

Dor grinned. She could feel her pale cheeks flushing, her emerald eyes shining, mirroring Kya’s earlier mischief. “You’re going to fall behind.”

Kya set to her garlic but Dor could see she kept looking at her sidelong. Dor kept her focus on her garlic, doing her best to do as she’d been taught, to mimic Kya’s proficiency. Kya was still faster than her and gave Dor a smug look when she finished. Dor did her best to ignore her, but it needled.

They picked up their cutting boards for the short trek around Mr. Chen, and Kya edged just in front of Dor. Without thinking about it, Dor reached out and tickled Kya’s ribs. Kya responded like she’d been struck. With a shriek, she leapt aside, sending chopped garlic across the kitchen. The customers on the other side of the counter stopped their conversation to stare. Dor froze, stunned and terrified. She hadn’t meant to provoke such a reaction and she was both mortified at what she’d done and terrified of what came next. She half expected to be hauled by her elbow to Sister Mary Margaret’s study. 

Mrs. Chen’s hand popped off their bottoms in quick successive tattoo. It was the mildest spanking Dor had ever experienced but still brought tears to her eyes. 

“If you’re going to roughhouse, go out to the courtyard,” Mrs. Chen snapped. She took Dor’s cutting board from her hands the pointed to send them on their way. 

Dor shuffled uncomfortably, trying not to look at anyone, until Kya put a hand on her back and steered her from the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Dor said as soon as they entered the courtyard.

“No, no. That’s my fault,” Kya said. “I shouldn’t have teased you.”

They stood awkwardly for several moments.

“Are you all right?” Kya asked.

Dor nodded and wiped away a few tears. “I just… I got spanked a lot, growing up. And now… I don’t want to disappoint your mother. She’s been very good to me.”

Kya grinned. “If that’s the worst you behave, you’ll be the least spanked girl in this house.” Then she sobered. “I could tell her not to. You know. Spank you.”

Dor shook her head. “It’s fine.”

“Really?”

“The sisters spanked me because they were mean. Your mother is strict, but she’s not mean. I’d much rather have a strict mother than a mean mother.” 

Kya cleared her throat. “All right. Um… can I ask you something?”

Dor looked at the other girl, expression serious. “Sure.”

“Could you… not tickle me anymore?”

Dor grinned. “I promise not to tickle you in the kitchen ever again.”

“Dor, please…”

“You just got my bottom smacked…”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I…”

“And the way you squealed was just so cute.”

“I… really?” Kya blushed and cleared her throat. “I really don’t like being tickled.”

Dor relented. “I understand. I will do my best not to tickle you on purpose.”

Kya quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ll be tickling me by accident?”

Dor shrugged and couldn’t help but grin.

Kya sighed and threw up her hands. “I suppose that’s the best I can ask for. Come on, mom told us to roughhouse in the courtyard, and I want to practice my waterbending.”

Last time she’d stayed with the Chens, Dor had been so focused on being of help to them, of not being a burden, that she hadn’t paid much attention to their customers. This time she fell into a comfortable routine and couldn’t help but overhear conversation. She learned that the Chen’s home was in a neighborhood largely populated by people originally of the Earth Kingdom, from which Republic City had been carved, but that they abutted a neighborhood of people whose families had lived in the region for generations as Fire Nation colonists. There were some tensions between the groups, but Mrs. Chen shot a glare at anyone who aired grievances at their counter. Dor also learned that most of the folks who ate at the Chen’s worked as lightning benders at a nearby generator or workers at the satomobile factory. No matter their ancestry, they were all working class folks and could at least agree on that much.

Dor did her best to focus on doing a good job, on enjoying the camaraderie of the Chen family, on ignoring the card of Camelot’s Excalibur in her mind. Mr. Chen showed her how to chop more efficiently. Mrs. Chen taught her to brew tea. She and Kya practiced waterbending in the courtyard. 

Even so, the artifact cards in her grimoire weighed upon her. Her second night with the Chens, Dor woke with a start in the middle of the night, feeling as though a thousand books pressed upon her chest.

“Something wrong?” Kya asked, voice thick with sleep.

Dor sighed. “Just a bad dream.”

“Want me to take your mind off it?”

“How?”

Kya put her hands on Dor’s hip, then slid them to the hem of her pale yellow Hufflepuff nightie.

“Oh.” Dor gasped. “But what about your parents?”

“Well, if we’re caught, mom will probably insist that you sleep on the couch.” Kya slipped her hand under the nightie and up to the elastic hem of her black X-Men panties. “She thinks we’re like sisters. She might even spank us. So, keep it down, yeah?”

Dor managed to keep her ecstasy at Kya‘s dexterous fingers to breathy gasps. When Dor returned the favor, Kya grit her teeth and squirmed.

When they weren’t helping in the kitchen, they were sparing in the courtyard. Kya’s waterbending was graceful and lithe. Dor would cast her copy of [Kya’s Waterbending] and did her best to mimic the other girl but even with the adaptability of the enchantment, even moving water at her will, snapping it like a whip and holding it like a shield, she wasn’t as adept as Kya. Eventually, Kya asked her to show what else she could do, so Dor flipped through her grimoire. Between [Twilight’s Blink], [Jubilee’s Dazzler], and [Elmira’s Whip], Dor was able to hold her own.

After sparring, the Kya would lead Dor to their little bathhouse off the courtyard. Dor found she was less and less bashful being naked in front of Kya. They sat together in the wooden tub, soaking in hot water up to their necks. It’s wasn’t as luxurious as the baths at Hogwarts, but Dor doubted anything was. They sat hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Dor closed her eyes and meditated as Jean had taught her.

“Are you sleeping?” Kya asked.

“Meditating,” Dor replied, voice smooth.

Kya shifted, sitting up a bit straighter. Her hip was like silk against Dor’s. The water rippled.

“I’ve never been good at meditating. Could you teach me?”

Dor took a deep breath, held it a moment, and replied. “I could try.” She walked Kya through the exercise of imagining a room in her mind, of careful breathing, of relaxing her jaw, her neck, her shoulders…

Every evening they shared a quiet dinner with Kya’s parents before going to bed. And every night in bed, Kya and Dor snuggled close under the blankets.

When Sunday came, after breakfast, Mrs. Chen gave them each a ten yuan allowance and reminded them to behave themselves. Then she and Mr. Chen left, arm in arm.

“We could go to the market, if you like,” Kya said.

Dor nodded. “Sure. So long as you promise we’re not secretly there to break up some firebender gang.”

Kya grinned. “You gonna spank me again?”

Dor blushed.

“Or,” said Kya. “We could just stay here today.”

“And do what?” Dor was fond of the Chen home, but she itched to be out and about. The artifacts weighed upon her mind and getting out into the city might help ease the urge to move on.

Kya cleared her throat. “Well, you know, we could go up to my room and, um…”

Dor blushed harder. They had agreed to be careful so as not to alert Kya’s parents, which meant they hadn’t done more than cuddle since their second time. She cleared her throat.

“Would your mom really be mad at us for being… you know… together?”

Kya shrugged and shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. She adores you and thinks you’re a good influence me. But she’s also very traditional about, um, the sorts of things unmarried couples are, uh, allowed to get up to.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So….”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Kya hopped up with a short “Oh!” and hurried to answer the door.

It was the boy Dor had seen Kya with upon her return to Republic City. He stood in the doorway, all shiny and handsome and vaguely awkward in a way that was kind of adorable. Dor tried not to immediately hate him.

“You ready to go?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

Kya looked from him to Dor and back.

“Oh,” he said. “Who’s this?”

Kya cleared her throat and took a step back. “Shirou, this is my friend, Dorothy. Dor, this is Shirou.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dorothy,” he said, and sounded genuine. He returned his attention to Kya. “I was hoping to take you to a little café nearby. Maybe your friend would like to join us?” He looked at Dor and smiled and Dor had to admit he was kind of cute. She could see why Kya had been spending time with him.

Dor looked at Kya and shrugged. “If you like. I mean… um. Sure. If it’s all right with you, Kya.”

Kya nodded hurriedly. “Sounds fun.”

Shirou led them down the street away from the Chen’s place. At first, Dor thought they were headed toward the market, but they took a different turn. Dor worried Shirou might offer his arm to Kya, as he had when she’d first seen them together. She considering offering hers before he could, but decided trying to show preemptive affection felt too much like competition, to show she was better than him. It would be awkward at best and mean at worst.

Presently they came to a little café and Dor could smell coffee brewing. Her stomach rumbled gently and she blushed, but neither Shirou nor Kya seemed to notice. Shirou lead them to a little table with a trio of stools along one wall.

They were met by an older woman with a white fringe of hair and golden eyes. She handed Shirou a placard.

“Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

Kya sat between Dor and Shirou, and the girls scootched around the table so they could squeeze together and read the placard. The writing wasn’t in English, nor was it in the flowing script of the elves on Majyst Isle. It was something new, and yet Dor could read it.

Kya ordered peppermint tea. Shirou ordered green tea. Dor ordered coffee with cream. The other two gave her a strange look, but she just smiled. Then Shirou ordered them each a scone with orange marmalade, waving off any objections.

“It is my honor to buy tea for two lovely young ladies. Please, do not deny me this.”

The scones were dense but flakey, the butter thick and rich, the coffee was strong and bitter and tempered just enough by the cream. They had just settled into idle conversation, Shirou explaining about his parents import business, when the bell above the entry rang and Dor flicked a glance that way. She froze, hands tensing around the mug of coffee, when she saw who it was.

Toshi Sakaguchi, the punk who’d attacked the Chens.

Dor lifted her mug to her face and cast her gaze away, hoping he hadn’t recognized her, but there was no such luck.

“Well, look at this,” Toshi said loudly, ambling toward them.  “If it isn’t my little cousin, Shirou. And is that the restaurant girl? You know she’s a waterbender, right?”

Dor noticed he was alone and was certain she could take him, especially with Kya. But she didn’t want to start a fight. Next to her, Kya clenched her hands into fists on the tabletop, trying not to react. Even so, the surface of their drinks rippled.

Shirou clenched his jaw, then stood and turned to face Toshi. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to enjoy a cup of tea. Is that not allowed?”

Shirou gestured at the shop where only a few other patrons sat. “There’s plenty of room. No need to bother us.”

“Bother?” Toshi put a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Do I bother you, cousin? Tell me, do your parents know you’re consorting with a waterbender? With a halfbreed?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“What about our grandparents?”

Dor stood up quickly. She wasn’t sure what Toshi meant by “halfbreed”, but it sounded like an insult and she wasn’t about to let this punk insult Kya.

“Easy, Dor,” Kya said. She stood and put a hand on Dor’s shoulder. “We don’t need to cause any trouble. Maybe we should just go.”

“We shouldn’t have to.” Shirou said. He stepped up to Toshi. Though he was half a head shorter than his cousin, he set his jaw and glared at the older boy, hands clenched at his sides.

Toshi laughed, tone derisive. “Don’t worry, little cousin. I’ll let our grandparents know. They’ll want to talk to you about your business prospects. Unless… is that why you’re here with these girls? Do you plan to…” he cleared his throat and sneered, “sell their services?”

Dor reacted without thinking. She summoned her wand from her mindpocket and pointed it at the boy. Blue and pink and yellow sparks danced for the barest of moments at its tip, then exploded in Toshi’s face, knocking him back.

Toshi shouted and stumbled backward, striking out with his fists, lances of fire jetting every which way. Patrons screamed. The owner shouted a mixture of fury and surprise.

A pair of toughs hustled into the shop. They wore slick, dark suits with bright red ties and golden tie tacks. Each wore a brimmed hat with a red hatband. They weren’t the same thugs Toshi had been working with, but Dor felt certain they were with the Agni Kai gang. She held her wand at the ready, prepared to duel them both. Kya snapped into a waterbending stance and all the tea and coffee in the room flowed to her command, swirling about her in a long, thin ribbon.

Toshi jumped to his feet, blinking rapidly, shouting insults. Nothing was on fire, but the room smoked and smelled of burned wood.

“I’ll teach you, you bitch!”

There might have been a fight except an older gentleman stepped into the shop. He wore robes of red trimmed in gold. His beard and moustaches were long and white. His likewise white hair was worked into a thick braid that fell down his back. He put a hand upon Toshi’s shoulder, and Toshi froze.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in a thick, grave voice.

“I was attacked!” Toshi shouted, voice high, almost panicked. “Those girls, they—”

The old man squeezed Toshi’s shoulder, and Toshi stopped speaking.

“He insulted my guests, grandfather,” Shirou said. Though his tone was thin, it did not waver. “I was defending them.”

“Your guests are waterbenders.”

Shirou cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, grandfather.”

The old man looked at Kya. “Your mother and I have an understanding, do we not?”

Kya lowered her arms and stood up straight. The tea and coffee she’d gathered into a ribbon fell with a pattering like rain.

“Yes, sir.”

“You should go home and explain to her what happened here.”

Kya swallowed hard and took Dor by the wrist. “Yes, sir.”

They hurried from the café and back to the Chens’ home. Neither said anything. Dor cried the whole way.

Mrs. Chen opened the front door and the girls stood from the couch, holding hands. Her expression was furious, but her body language was relaxed. Mr. Chen stood behind his wife, expression soft and disappointed. Mrs. Chen snapped her fingers at her daughter and pointed up the stairs.

“Wait,” said Dor. She squeezed Kya’s hand. “I’m more to blame than Kya. If she… if she’s in trouble, I should be too.”

Mrs. Chen’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Very well. Both of you, upstairs.”

The girls hurried upstairs and into Kya’s room. Kya stopped and faced Dor, taking her by the shoulders, tears shining in her eyes.

“There’s no need for you to…”

“I struck first,” Dor said.

“Mom spanks hard, Dor.”

“This was my fault,” Dor said. “Maybe I can convince her…”

Kya shook her head. “There’s no way I’m letting you get a spanking without me.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were defending my honor.” Kya gave Dor a quick kiss on the cheek. “But you know how mom feels about fighting with the Agni Kai. I think we’re really in for it.”

Dor nodded. “I should have known better.”

Kya slid her pants and panties down, folding them neatly and setting them in the clothes hamper, so Dor followed suit, putting her clothes in the laundry bag in her mindpocket. Then Kya fetched her hairbrush from her dresser and set it on the bed. Dor stared at the hairbrush. It was a carved, wooden oval, stained dark, and polished to a shine. Looking at it put a tingling thrill in her belly. Kya went to stand in the corner, and Dor joined her. She felt small and embarrassed, but Kya held her hand and that made her feel a little better.

Presently, they heard Mrs. Chen coming up the stairs. Dor held to Kya a little tighter. Mrs. Chen came into the bedroom quietly, which was worse than if she’d shouted. 

“Turn around, girls.”

They did as they were told. Dor clasped her hands behind her back, and looked at her bare feet.

“Mr. Sakaguchi came to see me. He explained about Toshi’s behavior. He tells me he’s considering sending the boy to stay with family in the Fire Nation.”

Dor felt Kya sigh in relief, but couldn’t do so herself. She still felt she’d made a huge error in judgment.

“Even so, I am extraordinarily disappointed. I thought we’d had this discussion about fighting with gangsters.”

“Sorry, mom,” Kya said.

And before she could think better of it, Dor said the same. “Sorry, mom.” She gasped and covered her mouth, blushing furiously. “I mean, Mrs. Chen. Sorry.”

Mrs. Chen’s expression softened, but only a moment. “Kya, for the first time in raising you, I find myself uncertain whether to spank you.”

Dor felt the other girl shift next to her. After several moments, Kya sighed. “If Dorothy hadn’t beat me to it, I’d have struck him first. He may as well have called us sluts, mom.”

Mrs. Chen’s expression firmed. “That is no excuse, only an admission that you lost control.”

Kya bowed her head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Chen went to the bed and sat, picking up the hairbrush.

“I’m sorry to say, the two of you have behaved poorly, and so will be punished.” 

She looked at Dor and for a moment Dor thought she detected a hint of uncertainty, so she gave the barest of nods. Mrs. Chen nodded, as though to herself.

“Kya.”

Kya went to her mother and lay over the woman’s lap. Mrs. Chen wasn’t a large woman, barely bigger than her daughter, but her personality loomed large, and Dor had no trouble believing their spankings would be thorough. 

Mrs. Chen spanked largely with her wrist, letting the length of the handle and the breadth of the hairbrush back do the majority of the work. The crack of brush on bottom was enough to make Dor jump, her heart leaping to a sprint, enough to make Kya cry out. Dor watched her friend grimace and squirm as her hairbrush smacked bright red ovals all over her bare backside. Dor grimaced and squirmed in sympathy.

When it was her turn, Kya standing nearby, rubbing her bottom and sniffling at tears, Dor lay over Mrs. Chen’s lap without hesitation. The way she’d spanked Kya was not unlike how Minwu had spanked her: firmly but kindly. It was almost a relief to put herself in Mrs. Chen’s authority, relinquishing control, and submitting to a spanking.

The hairbrush painted her naked bottom with a burning sting. She squeaked and gasped and cried, but when it was done, she felt at peace.

Dor dreamed of a great hall with a low-beamed ceiling and a crackling fire in a stone hearth. In the center of the hall was a great round table at which sat a number of warriors in eclectic garb. Suddenly, she was slammed to the surface of the table, striking so hard she bounced and cried out. She tried to stand, but was pressed down, flat on her back, by an enormous weight. She couldn’t squirm, couldn’t cry out. The breath was pressed from her. She scrabbled for the weight upon her chest and her hands closed upon the hilt of a sword.

Excalibur.

Dor stayed with the Chens for two months. She helped in the kitchen and did chores around the house. She spared with Kya in the courtyard and took baths with her and slept in her bed. Sometimes they did more than sleep, but carefully, quietly. On Sundays, Mrs. Chen gave her and Kya each ten yuan and they went to the market to buy snacks, though Dor did her best to save the money, tucking away what was left with the dollars given to her by Pearl.

That first Sunday, they didn’t see Shirou and went to the marketplace in each other’s company. But the next Sunday, and for each thereafter, Shirou showed up and asked if he could accompany them. On one Sunday, he bought them ice cream at the market. On another, he treated them to a night at the probending arena. On another, they watched a puppet show in the theater district.

And every night, she dreamed of the artifacts stolen by Mr. Quillon, kept in the Infinite Library, and now stored in the grimoire of her mindpocket.

Dor woke with a gasp, clawing her way from a dream of Excalibur weighing her down. She sat up, chest heaving, skin damp with sweat. Kya sat up next to her with a grunt and trailed her fingernails gently across Dor’s bare back.

“Was it the same dream?”

Dor shook her head. “This time I was at the bottom of a lake.”

Kya cleared her throat roughly. “Maybe it’s time for you to go.”

Dor gave a small sob. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you.”

“I know.”

Dor leaned into her. Kya hugged her shoulder.

“You can come back, when you’re done, right?” Kya kissed the top of her head.

Dor nodded, but her tears intensified.

Kya hugged her a little harder. “If we’re quiet, maybe I could take your mind off it?”

 Dor nodded again, eagerly this time, a fire lighting in her belly. But rather than let Kya’s fingers explore her, she clambered between Kya’s legs, surprising the other girl with her forwardness. She remembered watching Li and Minwu in the dark of their home, and how Li’s face had been pressed to Minwu’s nethers. She wanted to try that, to explore the option with Kya.

Kya gasped when Dor put her lips to the inside of her thigh. Kya bent her knees and spread wide. Dor wrapped her arms around Kya’s thick thighs to give herself leverage. She kissed and nibbled and licked, letting her tongue press and explore the warm, damp folds. Kya tasted thick and salty and it took a little getting used to, but Dor decided she liked it. She found that little nub of pleasure with her lips, and Kya had to cover her mouth so her parents wouldn’t hear.

In the morning, Dor said her goodbyes.

Mr. Chen hugged her softly. “May your quest be fruitful and may you return to us when you are ready.”

Mrs. Chen hugged her fiercely. “Try to behave out there.”

Kya escorted her to the courtyard and they hugged each other for a long while, crying into each other’s shoulders gently.

“Shirou isn’t so bad,” Dor said. “I think you tickle his fancy. You could do a lot worse.”

“Are you giving me permission to date him?” Kya asked.

Dor shrugged. “Only if it’s my permission to give. You are my friend and my love and if I could live here with you forever, I would. But I’ve had dreams like this before, back at the orphanage, dreams of other places. I think the multiverse has always been calling to me. Pulling at me. I don’t know that I can resist it. Even if I return all the artifacts, I’m not sure I want to resist it.”

Kya nodded gravely. “I think I understand. You’re like the air nomads of old. Always traveling. Always making friends. The multiverse is your home.” She sighed. “So if you meet anyone out there who tickles your fancy, well, you have my permission to tickle theirs right back. Assuming it’s my permission to give.”

Dor nodded. She kissed Kya and Kya kissed her back. Then Dor stood in the center of the courtyard and Kya gave her space. Dor closed her eyes and pictured the room in her mind. It came to her easily, with the barest of thoughts. She took a deep breath and the room expanded, like it too breathed. The books shifted, her thoughts settled. The door at the far end of the room opened to L-Space, and she walked through.

Chapter Text

Twilight Sparkle stood on the road to the Everfree Forest, magic tingling up and down her horn. Next to her stood Rainbow Dash, the fastest pegasus in all of Equestria. Or so the pugnacious girl would claim. Twilight would have felt more confident if the other four holders of the Elements of Harmony were with her. Monsters emerged from the forest, and they were of a kind she’d never seen before. They were bipedal beasts, with green tufts upon their heads like bushes and thorns up and down their arms and their long, prehensile tails. 

“Let’s kick their butts,” Rainbow Dash said, pawing at the ground. 

“Wait.” Twilight Sparkle was gratified when her friend did as she said, rather than charging into battle. “Maybe we can talk first.” 

“With monsters?”

Twilight Sparkle nodded. “Remember the sea serpent Rarity helped with kindness?”

Rainbow Dash grumbled but nodded. 

Twilight Sparkle used her magic to enhance her voice and called out. “Hello there. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I am a student of Princess Celestia. Please state your business.”

The monsters hooted and grunted. The foremost among them lifted itself on to its hind feet, it was at least six feet tall, and pounded its chest.

“Do you think that’s monster for ‘we come in peace’?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Probably not.” Twilight Sparkle was no stranger to combat, but she still preferred to talk out problems. Usually talking worked.

“So, can I kick their butts now?” Rainbow Dash pranced from hoof to hoof.

“Um…”

The lead monster bellowed and charged, galumphing on all fours, using its foreknuckles like front feet.

Twilight Sparkle squeaked. “Yes!”

Dor walked with careful calm down the corridors of L-Space, the card of Camelot’s Excalibur pulsing in time with her footsteps, her heartbeat, the song of the multiverse. The artifact called to its homeplane and she tried to focus her mind through it, feeding the power tingling along her shoulders. She let her heartbeat guide her down the twisting halls of the space between planes, the Infinite Library coiled in her mind and splayed through the Blind Eternities. She could feel herself growing closer to the homeplane of Camelot’s Excalibur and let herself know a moment of triumph.

Then L-Space shifted and jolted and she stumbled into the wall of books on her left, concentration shattered. She could feel that stern power she’d felt before, pulling at her, demanding her attention, insisting she attend. She tried to pull against it, to follow Excalibur, but her concentration was gone and the artifact no longer pulsed in her mind. She reached for anywhere other than where that strict personality pulled her, trying to focus on the friends she’d made across the multiverse. 

For a moment, she found the deep purple eyes and delicate equine face of Twilight Sparkle, the unicorn who’d been so extraordinarily kind to her upon her first planeswalk. In the next moment, she tumbled from L-Space. 

She landed in a grassy meadow at the foot of a snow-capped mountain range. The meadow sloped down toward a sandy beach and up toward a thick forest. Just to her right was a cottage constructed of a stone foundation and wooden walls. Upon the wooden door was emblazoned a symbol: A dark purple spiral behind a quartet of grey, five-pointed stars. 

“Ah, so here’s the naughty little planeswalker causing planar ripples through my beloved Equestria.” 

Dor scrambled to her feet, blushing at the scolding tone. She found the source standing just behind her in the meadow. He was a grey-furred unicorn with pale blue eyes and a long, thick white beard. He wore a dark blue cape over his back, patterned in yellow moons and stars, and a matching pointed hat. Dor blinked at him, half recognizing him from unremembered dreams.

“Um. Hello.” Dor said. “I was…” 

“Yes, I know who you are. I brought you here—” 

“That was you? You’ve… you’ve been in my dreams.” 

The venerable unicorn frowned at her. “Don’t interrupt me, young lady. I am Starswirl, preeminent conjurer, sorcerer, and wizard of all of Equestria. This is my plane and you’ve harmed it.” 

That name, Starswirl, meant something to her, but his stern look and her fluttering heart made it difficult to concentrate. His unicorn horn glowed a greyish-blue and conjured a long-handled instrument with a small paddle-shaped end made from folded leather. It reminded Dor a bit of Sister Mary Margaret’s cane and she shrank back. 

“Like you, I am a planeswalker. I’ve been at it for nearly one thousand years. And yet, I cannot correct the damage you have done by bringing that inter-planar artifact here. If I’m right, and I usually am, the only one who can correct the damage is the one who dealt it. Which is you. I hadn’t counted on your will being quite so strong-willed or I’d have had you here and sorted months ago.” 

Dor took a step back and put her hands behind her back. She made herself stand up straight and take a deep breath. This unicorn had a commanding presence, his glower cowed her and that instrument hanging upon his magic made her nervous, but she refused to cower. 

“You mean Ravenclaw’s Diadem. Or, this version of it, anyway.” 

The grey unicorn nodded. “Very good. You’ll need to utilize your telepathy to bond with the artifact and send it back to its plane of origin. That will stop these planar ripples.” 

Dor shook her head. “I’d be happy to help, but I haven’t got telepathy. I was meditating with…” 

“Precisely.” He gestured with his horn and the instrument raised a bit higher. “Touch your toes, human.” 

Dor’s eyes went wide. “What? No. I—”

The unicorn frowned and the light about his horn pulsed. With a loud crack of magic, Dor quite suddenly found herself draped over a wooden construct, a sort of bench, but at waist height, and rounded to accommodate being bent tummy-down over it. Her palms and toes rested on the soft grass and she struggled to push to her feet. 

The small leather paddle on the end of that long wooden handle smacked upon her backside, stinging and pulling a gasp from her, but through the layers of her jeans and panties, it was only a minor sting. 

“Concentrate, young mage. Think about the telepath you trained with, and concentrate.” 

The leather slapped her again. Tears sprang to Dor’s eyes and frustration clenched at her chest. She hated her tears just then, this horrible man might think he’d gotten the better of her if he saw her crying. But her frustration only brought more tears. 

“Concentrate.” 

At his voice, deep and sonorous, Dor felt the memories come to the fore, memories of sitting with Jean Grey in a quiet room in the library at Xavier’s Institute. She remembered the faint hiss of air conditioning, she remembered the scent of Jean’s shampoo, she remembered Jean’s voice, and warmth, and presence. She remembered Jean’s mind helping her to focus. She remembered being over Jean’s lap, taking an asked-for spanking, and [Gems’ Fusion] washing over them.

Then Starswirl smacked her backside with the little leather paddle several times in quick succession. Even with the protection of two layers of clothing, it stung, sending a mild fire across her backside. 

“Hmm… maybe it needs to contact with her bare skin.” 

“Wait!” Dor shouted. She wiggled and squirmed until she pulled herself over the wooden construct, falling onto her side. She scrambled to her feet and held her hands out, imploring the unicorn. The leather paddle hung in the air, at the ready. “Is this really necessary?” 

Starswirl nodded. “On Ioearth, you developed a spell that changes you into a dragon thanks to the intense feelings of having been unjustly punished. I need you to develop a spell that grants you telepathy. I thought spanking you might help.”

“How do you know about that?”

“As soon as I understood it was you who’d have to repair this damage, I’ve been trying to pull you here. And when I couldn’t do that, I’ve been monitoring your progress, reading along, as it were. Now, are you going to bare yourself, or do I need to do it for you?” 

“Please, Mr. Starswirl, there has to be another way.” 

The unicorn shrugged. “Perhaps. Do you know of one?” 

Dor hesitated, trying to think, and a moment later, Starswirl nodded firmly. With a crack of magic, Dor found herself divested of her clothes. She was once again hung over the rounded wooden bench, but this time her wrists were held by thick, if soft rope, and tied to a wooden stake in the ground. She could see under the wooden bench to her feet and found they were similarly bound. Her hair fell, loose from its braids, around her head. Her whole body burned with humiliation. 

“Concentrate, little planeswalker. The faster you develop your spell, the sooner your spanking is over.” 

The leather paddle spanked her naked backside, from just above her knees to the small of her back in a quick, steady tattoo. Dor squealed and squirmed, but was held fast. Tears burned her eyes and her head throbbed. She felt she might burst into fire at any moment, and that gave her an idea. She gazed into her mindpocket and her grimoire opened before her. She flipped to the red-bordered spells and forced her power into [Elmira’s Javelin], meaning to hurl it at her tormentor. But just as the tingle of her power focused into the spell, a wisp of blueish-grey magic enveloped Starswirl, and her spell failed, fizzling. 

“Wrong spell, child. Focus, now.” 

Dor cried out in pain and frustration, squeezing her eyes shut, tears making a mess of her face. She tried half-heartedly to squirm off the bench, to pull at her bonds, but she was held fast. Her grimoire remained open in her mind, but she felt certain Starswirl would counter any attempt to attack him with another spell. So, though she hated to give in, she tried to do as he’d told her, to concentrate. The burning sting of the humiliating spanking buzzed through her and she could barely tell it from the tingle of power that was her magic. She focused on her grimoire and the playing cards within, and though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, the intense and repetitive sting helped. 

She imagined a grey-scale playing card, no words, no depiction, just the card. Her shoulders tingled, her backside stung, and the card coalesced in her mind, resting upon the open pages of the grimoire. Next she focused on the feeling of sitting with Jean in the study room. She imagined it was Jean’s voice in her mind, encouraging her to concentrate. She imagined she lay over Jean’s knee, the older girl spanking her gently with her bare hand. 

Even as Dor blushed, an image came to mind of Jean Grey sitting cross-legged in the middle of a dim, spare room. But it wasn’t just the image. Dor could hear the quiet, taste the air, feel the focus of the young psionicist. The image was heavy in her mind, and it filled the space of the card as the border shifted from dull greyscale to shimmering sapphire blue. The text flowed onto the card like the flourish of a well-trimmed quill pen.

Jean’s Telepathy

Cost:     UU

Type:    Tribal Enchantment – Psychic

Text:     Your opponents play with their hands revealed.

You may look at facedown cards in any zone at any time.

You may look at the top card of any library at any time.

“There we are.”

The repetitive, burning, stings relented, and the bonds disapparated. 

Dor was about to push to her feet when another crack of magic banished the wooden bench and set her upright. She stumbled and caught herself. Starswirl looked at her with a smug expression, but at least he’d banished his spanking implement. She cast about for her clothes and found them neatly folded in a stack on the grass, nearby. Cheeks burning, she pulled on her clothes as Starswril spoke. 

“Now you can call upon telepathy, you should be able to focus it through the artifact, letting you find its plane of origin and return it.” 

Dor pulled her jeans over her throbbing backside. Over her yellow Hufflepuff panties, the jeans felt too tight, but she buttoned them closed anyway. 

“There might be a problem with that,” Dor said. She found her tone mild and wished she could be more forceful. 

“I doubt that,” Starswirl said. 

Dor picked up her bralette, yellow to match the panties, and pulled it on. “You said only the one who pulled the artifact into Equestria can return it.” 

He nodded. “Correct.” 

“Well, that wasn’t me. I mean, I was there, and I think it was my presence that caused the planar ripples, but it was Twilight Sparkle who actually carried the diadem. This quest will need both of us, right?” 

Starswirl pursed his lips, eyebrows frowning. “Hmm. You could be right.” 

Dor pulled on her t-shirt, black with a purple X on the upper left breast, and took a deep breath. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her whole body burned and she wanted to lash out at the unicorn. She held back because, for one thing, he’d been right. She’d developed [Jean’s Telepathy] and felt fairly certain she couldn’t have done so without his spanking. For another, she was fairly certain she was no match for him. So she got dressed and refused to rub her aching backside, waiting for the unicorn wizard to think. 

“The issue, you see, is that you are a planeswalker. Is this Twilit pony a planeswalker also?” 

Dor shook her head. “Princess Celestia considered planeswalkers and the multiverse to be only theoretical.” 

Starswirl smiled and his expression softened. “Celestia and Luna. Those girls were my finest students. I’ve missed them.” 

“Why not go and see them?” 

He shook his head. “No. I’m supposed to have been turned to stone. In some parallel versions of Equestria, I was. But on this one, I sparked and took to the multiverse. Parallel universes are fascinating, but can be quite a bit to wrap one’s head around.” He gave Dor a condescending look. “Count yourself lucky you’ve not had to come across one yet.” 

“In fact, I have,” Dor said. “I, um, I had dealings with a planeswalker who was stealing artifacts from tertiary universes. I was on my way to return one when you pulled me here and decided to spank me.” She felt a bit of steel enter her tone and was proud to see Starswirl blink at her, perhaps taken back a bit. She explained about Mr. Quillon and his spell to trawl the multiverse for artifacts and budding planeswalkers entwining. 

“Which is how a version of Ravenclaw’s Diadem ended up in Princess Celestia’s palace.” 

“Well.” Starswirl’s tone was less aloof. “Interesting. In that case, I suppose you’ll need to collect your Twirling Sprankle friend and see the princess. Then to the Everfree Forest. If anywhere on Equestria will allow for a planeshift, it’ll be that chaotic place. I believe your tactic of focusing telepathy through the stolen artifacts is the correct one. I’ll monitor you, so if you become stumped, I can intervene.” 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Dor didn’t want the unicorn who’d spanked her to come along, but he was an ancient and powerful wizard and if anyone could teach her about being a planeswalker and ensure the success of this quest, it would be him. 

He shook his head again. “Equestria is doing just fine without me. I don’t need to interfere. Other than this planar ripple issue.” He gave a firm nod. “It’s settled then. And don’t tell anypony about me. Let them think me turned to stone.” 

Dor wasn’t happy with doing what he told her to, but his plan aligned with her own quest to return the artifacts, so she nodded. “I don’t suppose you can point me toward Ponyville?” 

With a nod, Starswirl’s horn glowed with magic and the crack of it filled her ears. 

She stumbled upon a packed earth road in the middle of a quaint little town. It was all bright colors and big windows and thatched roofs. Dor looked about in delighted wonder. It was like something from a storybook. It was several moments before she realized her sudden appearance had garnered attention. Everypony nearby had stopped to stare at her. They were every color she could imagine and each had a symbol upon their flanks. Some had horns, some had wings, all had startled expressions.

“Excuse me.”

Dor gasped and turned to find an elderly pony with apple green fur and a snow white mane worked into a bun. She had neither horn nor wings.

“You don’t look like you’re from around these parts. Can I help you?” Her voice was thin, but she smiled, and that smile put Dor at ease.

“I’m looking for the residence of Twilight Sparkle.”

The old pony nodded. “She lives in Golden Oak library over yonder.” She gestured with her chin and Dor followed the gesture to see a large oak tree a few blocks over. “But she’s not there just now on account of the monsters in the Everfree Forest.”

“Monsters? Which way?” Dor’s heart began to hammer, her shoulders to tingle. The sting in her backside spread throughout.

The old pony gestured the other way. “Just follow the road out of town.”

Dor looked the indicated direction.

“You should leave them to it, dearie. Those young’uns know what they’re about.”

But Dor wasn’t listening. From where she stood, she could just see the edge of town and the smudge of dark green beyond that had to be the Everfree Forest. She had no doubt Twilight Sparkle could handle a few monsters, but Dor wasn’t about to leave her first interdimensional friend to fight monsters without help.

“Thank you!” Dor sprinted for the edge of town and quickly realized she wasn’t fast enough. At least, not in this form. With barely a thought, she summoned her wand from her mindpocket and focused her power, channeling it through [Dor’s Dragonform]. Her body stretched and rippled midstride, shifting her into the shape of a dragon. As she shifted, she returned her wand and put her clothes into her mindpocket. The process had become smooth and easy. Her wings stretched from her shoulders. Purple scales, smooth and glistening, marked here and there by gold, shone in the sun. In this form she was bigger, stronger, and most importantly faster.

With a pump of her wings, she was in the air, hurtling for the Everfree Forest. Soon she could see them, a group of ape-like creatures with pale, tan hides and dark green markings that might have been fur or might have been leafy growths. She recognized Twilight Sparkle, the lavender-furred unicorn, and next to her was a sky-blue pegasus with a rainbow streaked mane. Dor remembered the stories Twilight had told her of her friends. This had to be Rainbow Dash.

The lead ape-like monster stepped forward, reared up, and pounded its chest. That seemed to be the signal for the others, for the monsters charged the ponies. Dor pumped her wings harder.

The pegasus, Rainbow Dash, shot forward in a streak of rainbow-banded light.

Dor felt a familiar tingle upon her draconic shoulders. Her body still throbbed with aftereffects of Starswirl’s spanking, and she could feel a new spell taking form. She dearly hoped the old wizard was wrong, that suffering a spanking wasn’t the most efficient way to learn new spells.

Rainbow Dash spun at the last moment to plant her forehooves in the air and strike with her backhooves. She took the monster in the chest, hurling it back toward the forest where it struck a tree and slumped. The monsters erupted, howling with rage, and swarmed the pegasus. She was fast and nimble, but there were several of the monsters and the pegasus was knocked off her hooves.

Twilight Sparkle let loose with a beam of magic, knocking two of the gorilla-like monsters aside and focusing their attention on her. 

Dor took a breath and felt her magic stir in her belly. Her dragonbelly tingled as her shoulders did when the magic played at them. She flipped through the grmoire in her mind and put a finger on [Elmira’s Javelin]. She angled her wings and streaked at the scrum of gorillas charging Twilight Sparkle.

When she breathed out, the spell erupted from her throat, crashing into the lead monster. She could smell burning leaves as she passed over. The smell made her gag and she had to swallow hard as she pumped her wings to gain height and come around for another pass.

She made a tight turn and when she came around found that the monsters attacking Twilight fled for the forest, so she focused on those attacking the pegasus. The sky-blue pony was only just getting to her hooves with a trio of the plant gorillas bearing down on her. 

Dor took another breath, but this time avoided the javelin in favor of [Jubilee’s Dazzler]. When she breathed out, she sent one of the monsters head over heels, sparks dancing in its eyes. The monsters startled and turned their attention on her, the pegasus took the opportunity to flee, rainbow light in her wake. 

For the space of a heartbeat, a breath, a thought, Dor saw a grey-scale card, a potential spell. 

Dor chose the monster on her right and plowed into it.

They tumbled over, pounding at each other. Door tried to avoid using her claws, the smell of the burning monster still in the back of her throat. She wanted to drive the monster off, not kill it. When it whimpered, Dor sprang to her feet and leapt back, ready to unleash magical fury from her belly if necessary, but the opposing monster pushed to its feet and loped for the forest. A quick look around told her the others retreated as well, all but the one she’d hit with [Elmira’s Javelin]. That one writhed in pain on the scorched earth around it.

Dor had to swallow again, holding back bile. She approached cautiously, in case it was a trick, focusing on [Minwu’s Esuna]. She was about to take a breath when Twilight Sparkle stood in front of her.

“Enough. You’ve won. There’s no need to hurt it further.”

Dor blinked in confusion before remembering Twilight Sparkle didn’t know her in her dragonform.

“It’s okay. I’m just going to heal it,” Dor said. 

Rainbow Dash sped to Twilight’s side and bared her teeth. 

“She said back off, dragon!”

The blank card flickered through her mind again, and Dor wanted to stop, to focus on it, but the injured monster pressed upon her conscience.

Dor took a step back in surprise. “I just want to heal it,” she said again.

The pegasus snorted and stamped her hoof. “We don’t understand your growling language.”

“Easy, Rainbow Dash. It did help us after all.”

It was the first time Dor had had trouble with language on her planeswalking journey. She supposed it had something to do with her draconian mouth. So she closed her eyes, took as breath, and focused on [Dor’s Dragonform] to reverse the shapechange. With another thought, she cast [Dor’s Mindpocket] and slipped into her Hogwartian uniform, complete with Hufflepuff tie.

Twilight Sparkle’s eyebrows shot up. “Dorothy?”

“You know this pony, Twilight?”

“This is the human I told you about.”

Dor gestured at the monster she’d burned. “Please.”

The ponies moved aside, and Dor hurried to the monster’s side. She summoned her wand and cast [Minwu’s Esuna] to ease the burns. She watched as the monster glowed gently and the burned skin repaired. The monster took a deep breath, and before Dor could cast Cura, it hopped to its feet. It shuffled away quickly, then raised up to pound at its chest in a show of strength.

“Not this again,” Rainbow Dash grumbled.

Dor raised her wand, but faced with all three of them the monster dropped to all fours and retreated to the forest. They watched it disappear between the trees, then waited several more moments, just in case. Evenutally, Dor looked at the ponies, hoping they didn’t think her a monster for burning the gorilla beast.

“Wow, Dor. You’ve really come a long way since I last saw you.” Twilight Sparkle cocked her head and smiled.

“Oh. Um, well…” Dor blushed and hunched her shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me humans can turn into dragons,” Rainbow Dash said, nudging Twilight.

“I didn’t know,” said Twilight.

“We can’t,” said Dor. “I mean, I don’t think we can. Maybe some can. I can. Obviously.”

Rainbow Dash snickered. Twilight Sparkle raised an eyebrow. Dor blushed harder.

“The monsters are defeated,” Twilight Sparkle said. “We should celebrate. Why don’t you come back to Ponyville with us, Dor? We can get lunch at Café Hay and you can catch us up on what you’ve been up to.”

Dor sighed with relief and nodded.

 “Awesome,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’ll run ahead and save us some seats.” She streaked away in rainbow banded light, and the empty playing card jumped to the forefront of Dor’s mind. 

“Dor?”

Dor shook her head and blinked the image away. Her bottom still throbbed and she didn’t want to prove Starswirl correct.

“That sounds wonderful, thank you.”

Chapter Text

Café Hay was an adorable building of thick timbers painted vibrant green and white plaster walls with rose tinted windows and a thatched roof. All of Ponyville was adorable. Dor felt like she’d wandered into a storybook. It was nice and put her at ease, even though several of the ponyfolks stared at her as they walked through town. It also helped to have Twilight Sparkle at her side.

They found Rainbow Dash sitting at a table inside Café Hay, reading. She snapped the book closed and tucked it away when she saw them. Dor marveled at how dexterous her hooves were.

“Oh, good, you’re here. I ordered us some berry smoothies. Do humans drink smoothies? Oh, and some oat cakes. And an alfalfa appetizer. But I already ate that one.”

“Oh, um, I have a little money, but it’s not from here,” Dor said. “I don’t…”

Twilight Sparkle shook her head. “You’re my guest, Dor. Don’t worry about it.”

The short stool with a blue cushion was comfortable, but a bit short. It was sized so a pony could sit on it, and Dor’s torso wasn’t as long as a pony’s body, but she made due. The food arrived shortly. The oat cakes were crunchy, the smoothies were sweet, but Dor passed on a second serving of alfalfa appetizers.

She gave them the abbreviated version of her travels. She might have given Twilight Sparkle the full details, but they were in public and she’d only just met Rainbow Dash. She finished by explaining about how she thought they could return Ravenclaw’s Diadem, leaving out the bit about Starswirl.

“So, to fix this, we need to collect the diadem head into the forest, and seek out planar ripples. I think.”

Rainbow Dash shrugged, but Twilight Sparkle nodded excitedly. “I was just in Canterlot. The planar ripples haven’t stopped. Princess Celestia thinks it was a mistake to bring the diadem here. There’s been increased monster activity in the Everfree Forest. Zecora tells us some of these monsters are of a kind she’s never seen before, and she would know. I’ve been doing research, trying to figure out the best way to put the diadem back.”

“Can you not detect the planar ripples the way you did last time?” Dor asked.

Twilight Sparkle nodded. “I can, but there are too many. I don’t know which is the correct one.”

Dor shifted uncomfortably on her well-spanked bottom and cleared her throat. “I might have a way.” She reached into her mindpocket and withdrew her grimoire, flipping to the blue spells and tapping [Jean’s Telepathy]

Twilight looked at the book excitedly. “Ooohhh… I have so many questions. But no, we must focus.”

Dor grinned at Twilight’s enthusiasm. “I think, if I can focus this telepathy on the diadem we recovered, I might be able to locate the tree where we found it. But…” she shrugged. “I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s fine,” said Twilight. “It’ll be an adventure.”

Rainbow Dash cleared her throat. “When you said ‘adventure’, do you mean lots of fighting and running and flying, or…”

Twilight shook her head. “Probably more like searching and meditating and…”

Rainbow Dash yawned. “Sorry, but that’s not an adventure. That’s a chore.”

“It’s fine, Rainbow Dash. Dor and I can handle this. Besides, until we’ve got this problem solved, I’m not comfortable leaving Ponyville without someone to protect it. I might even send a letter asking the others to come back from Manehattan.” She looked at Dor. “When do you want to get started?”

“Um, as soon as we can, I should think,” said Dor. “We’ll need to collect the diadem, first.”

“It’s in Golden Oak Library,” Twilight said. “Princess Celestia wanted me to have it in case I figured out how to return it.”

After their breakfast, Twilight Sparkle took Dor to Golden Oak Library, where she lived. She introduced Dor to her assistant, Spike, a diminutive purple dragon with green ridges running down his spine. He shook Dor’s hand and his eyes went wide when Twilight described how Dor could shapeshift into a big, purple dragon.

“She can breathe sparks and fire and flies really fast,” Twilight said with a hint of amusement.

“Wow. Can I see? Can you do a demonstration?”

Dor blushed and demurred. “Maybe before we go?”

“Where are we going?” Spike asked.

“Into the Everfree Forest.” Twilight explained the coming journey.

“Will there be lots and lots of monsters?” Spike asked, voice wavering.

Twilight shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

“Um, no, I think it best if someone stayed to watch the library. What if someone needs to check out a book?”

Twilight and Dor spent the day brainstorming. Dor admitted she didn’t know how long it would take for her telepathy to lead them to the correct tree in the correct planar ripple, so they decided to plan for a two-week journey in the forest, hoping they wouldn’t need it and knowing they could return to Ponyville if they ran out of supplies.

Twilight sent Spike on errands all across Ponyville, purchasing them dry goods and canteens of water. She showed Dor her camping tent, a canvas structure Twilight could erect with magic in a matter of a moments. She also packed a variety of weather gear: raincloaks and snowboots and the like, none of which were made to fit a human being, but if it came to that at least they would have the gear.

“Rarity would love to meet you.” Twilight Sparkle said. “She’s never made a dress for a human before.”

“A dress?” Dor couldn’t keep a hint of longing from her tone.

Everyone at St. Bridget’s Orphanage wore the same dress: plain, dull, grey, rough, and shapeless. But on their infrequent trips to Wakefield, Dor had seen dresses in a variety of colors cut and sewn to fit a girl’s shape. The Hogwartian uniforms and sleepwear, the blue jeans and tshirts and underclothes provided by the X-Men, they were all far better than anything she’d ever had. And she was grateful.

But to have a pretty dress… Her mind drifted with a longing she hadn’t known she harbored.

With the gear collected and sorted, Twilight Sparkle produced saddlebags with her cutie mark embroidered on either bag. They were stiff leather bags attached to either side of a harness that would fit over her back. With a glow of magic and a flick of her horn, Twilight packed the gear into the saddlebags—even though there was much more gear than there should have been space in the bags.

“Bags of holding,” Twilight explained with a grin. “A gift from my parents when I received my first assignment.”

Finally, as the afternoon lengthened and Spike rested in the apartment upstairs, tuckered out from all the errands he’d run, Dor and Twilight Sparkle sat in the middle of the library, facing each other, preparing to meditate. The spanking Dor had received had faded but for a few aches here and there.

It was comfortable to sit with Twilight in the library.

Dor had worried, having only known Twilight Sparkle for several hours at best, that the unicorn would not have the same fond feelings for her as Dor had. To Dor, Twilight had been her first friend, her first teacher, the only reason she’d had any sort of grasp on how to navigate magic and the multiverse. But to Twilight, Dor couldn’t have been more than a brief encounter on a peculiar day. And still, Twilight had treated her kindly, almost like they were old friends.

“Before we start, I want to thank you,” Dor said. “I could not have survived any of this without you teaching me.”

“Really? But we’d only just gotten started.”

Dor nodded. “I hung on to that idea, that the basics of magic are willpower and imagination. I’m still figuring it out, and I’ve had a lot of help since then, but you were the first to teach me. I know we don’t know each other well, but you were my first friend, and… and I really appreciate that.” She cleared her throat gently, wiped tears from her cheeks, and looked away.

Twilight Sparkle reached out a hoof to Dor and put it gently on her knee.

“I’m sorry things have been rough for you, Dor. I’m glad I was able to help. If you ever need my help, even if you just want to come by to talk or read together, you’re always welcome here.”

Dor looked up at her. “Thank you.”

Twilight Sparkle dimmed the lights and talked them through the beginning of their deep, careful breathing. She told Dor that whenever she was ready, she could cast her telepathy spell. Dor let her mind wander. Her shoulders tingled with power, and she looked into the room in her mind without going there. She did not reach for the grimoire, but let it come to her, let it open to its first page, filled now with white-bordered spells, before turning gently to the next where three blue-bordered spells were snug in their plastic pockets.

She focused on [Jean’s Telepathy], featuring the red-headed psychic of the X-Men in quiet meditation. She did not reach for the spell, just focused upon it, and let the energies dancing upon her shoulders filter to the blue-bordered card, and then through it.

Her mind unfolded like a flower in bloom, letting her thoughts drift this way and that, open to whomever might reach for them. For a moment, she was a petal upon the ocean, buffeted by forces so much greater than her, unable to control the flow of her thoughts.

And then Twilight Sparkle was there, steadying her. And at that contact, Twilight knew all the thought and memory spilling over. Dor was immediately embarrassed and tried to gather her thoughts back into place, but they were like silky sand through her fingers. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide anything from Twilight Sparkle, but it reminded her of every time she’d accidently deposited herself naked in front of an audience because of her shapeshifting: exposed and vulnerable.

Then the looming detail she’d left from her story spilled to the fore. Every spanking she’d ever suffered from Sister Mary Margaret—imprinted upon her mind, humiliating and terrifying. And then, most recently, meeting Starswirl the Bearded. Twilight seemed so gentle, so kind, Dor felt it would be awkward to share that bit of her life. She found herself embarrassed to be embarrassed.

“You met Starswirl the Bearded?” Twilight spoke with awed reverence. “But he disappeared a thousand years ago. What was he like? Was he brilliant? Was he amazing?” 

Dor hesitated, trying to coral her thoughts. Her voice was quiet and hesitant. “He seemed very intelligent. A bit aloof and… stern.” 

“Well, that’s only to be expected of the greatest arcane mind in all of Equestria. He’s a master of transfiguration and teleportation and he taught princesses Celestia and Luna…” Twilight Sparkle frowned as Dor’s memory played out. “Wait. He… he spanked you? You hadn’t done anything wrong. Why? He… he spanked you with a crop because… because he thought it would be expedient.”

Dor could hear in her mind the confused, disconcordant overtones as Twilight tried to understand that Starswirl the Bearded, a lauded figure of myth and legend from a thousand years ago, a person whose theories and formulae and philosophies she’d studied her whole life, was a man who would assault a stranger.

“It’s okay,” said Dor.

“It’s not,” said Twilight.

Dor swallowed hard. She could feel her memories twisting and writhing, threatening to overflow. The enchantment of [Jean’s Telepathy] crinkled around the edges, nearly ripping apart.

“We should focus so we can complete the task.”

Dor felt a moment of hesitation from Twilight Sparkle before the unicorn nodded firmly. The unicorn woman’s mind was strong and disciplined and orderly and Dor knew hers could be too if she could just focus. So, she took a moment to reach for her grimoire again and cast [Pince’s Catalogue], feeling a calm, detached, orderliness settle over her own thoughts. The embarrassment was still there, but she felt no judgement from Twilight and that helped tremendously.

She flipped past the spells in her grimoire to where the artifacts had been stored. Page upon page of cards depicting all manner of items, each with a title on a field of steel grey: Camelot’s Excalibur, Behemoth Powercoins, Windu’s Lightsabre.

“This is how the stolen artifacts are stored,” Dor explained. “But our version of Ravenclaw’s Diadem was not in the Infinite Library when Mr. Quillon was destroyed as a paradox. So it’s not here.”

“I’ll fetch it,” Twilight said. She used her magic to reach into a secure cupboard from upstairs in the apartment she shared with Spike. With [Jean’s Telepathy], Dor could sense Spike was asleep, dreaming of soaring over the world on massive wings, partaking of delectable gemstones, and winning the favor of a pearl-white unicorn with vibrant purple hair. She pulled her thoughts away from Spike’s dreams, not wanting to intrude, and opened her eyes to find the displaced diadem coming to rest between them on the polished wooden floor of the library.

Dor let her thoughts focus upon the diadem, and tried to focus on her heartbeat as she had done when finding some success with Jean Grey.

“Take it in your own time, Dor,” Twilight Sparkle said, voice calm, soothing, encouraging. “We are in no rush. You’re new to this, so let it come to you.”

The tingle at her shoulders focused at the base of her neck, then sprinted up and down her spine, then spread through her. Dor was a bit discomfited at how the suffused buzz of magic through her body felt similar to the way she felt after a thorough spanking. She set the thought aside, shelving it for the moment.

She let the diadem fill her vision until it was all she could see, all she could think on, and the power buzzing within her reached for the artifact in steady steps, to the rhythm of her heartbeat, and when her power touched the artifact, she felt the resonance of the multiverse.

Twilight Sparkle gasped.

The multiverse spread out before them, a loose collection of multicolored lights, distant chimes, bits of sweetness. It was like looking at gemstones scattered across a beach, or tasting mint in hot chocolate, or hearing a distantly remembered melody from childhood.

Within moments, the beating of her heart resonated with the pulsing of one plane in particular. Dor knew the flavor of it. It was the Wizarding World, the plane of Hogwarts and Harry Potter. But it wasn’t the same Wizarding World she’d visited; it was a tertiary version of the world, as Mr. Quillon had put it, and it tasted just a bit different.

She could feel the multiverse rippling like cloth in a breeze, and as it reached the apex of the ripple, that version of the Wizarding World overlaid with this version of Equestria.

The resonance became overwhelming. The overlay was near.

“We were right,” Twilight Sparkle said. “It’s in the Everfree Forest.”

They woke before dawn. Spike prepared them a breakfast of jam and toast, apples and cream, tea and honey. Twilight Sparkle went over a checklist of their gear, twice. And then they were off. Once they’d entered the forest, Dor cast [Jean’s Telepathy] and let the psionic enchantment settle about her mind.

The wild magic of the Everfree Forest was directly opposed to the careful thought of [Jean’s Telepathy]. The two of them wound their way through the forest for three fruitless days. They drove off a pack of hunting timberwolves and tiptoed carefully around a sleeping ursa major and fled from a swarm of giant, spikey yellow caterpillars that lowered from the forest canopy on thick threads of web and glared with glistening black eyes. They partook of the rations Spike had procured for them: oat cakes and dried fruit and jars of cider from Sweet Apple Acres. And every evening, Twilight would use magic to set up the tent she’d brought and set warding spells to protect them from predators.

By the end of the fourth day, frustrated and defeated, Dor had acquired a distinct funk and asked if they could find a river or lake to wash off in.

“Good idea,” agreed Twilight Sparkle, taking a discreet sniff at her own shoulder.

Twilight found them a slow-moving river. She set up their tent and their warding spells, then lifted the saddlebags from her back with her magic. Other than the saddlebags, Twilight Sparkle was always nude, in fact clothing amongst the ponies seemed to be optional, but Dor found she was still shy about nudity. She did her best to ignore her burning cheeks, disrobed deliberately, and put her clothes in the laundry bag in her mindpocket so they’d be freshly clean when she withdrew them.

The river was smooth and cool and refreshing. Dor undid her braids and sat in the water up to her neck. The river bottom was smooth and soft and sandy. Twilight Sparkle did likewise, laying down with only her head above water.

“I feel like we’re getting nowhere,” said Dor.

“What else can we do?” said Twilight. “Your telepathy is our only lead on finding the planar ripples. We almost got it today. I could feel the edge of Equestria and a whole different plane of existence. It buzzed my horn. I’m sure of it.”

Dor nodded. She had felt it too, like coming upon the edge of a soap bubble, waiting for it to pop.

“I’m not sure we should be following though,” Dor said. “Maybe we should… meet it?”

Twilight perked up, the water about her rippling and her ears twitched. “You mean anticipate it. Try to figure out where it’s going to be next, and get there first.”

“Exactly,” said Dor, sitting up straight.

“How do we do that?”

Dor was distracted by a gentle rippling wake upon the surface of the largely smooth river. She pushed to her knees to see more clearly. The water was clear, but the smooth surface reflected the late afternoon sky and forest canopy, making it hard to see beneath the surface.

“Twilight, do you see—”

Dor was cut off as a curious head popped above the surface. It was a white-furred creature with triangular ears of dark blue, and a shiny, brown nose. Its eyes were large and dark and curious.

Dor eeped and fell still.

Twilight gasped.

“Um, Twilight? Is this a… a monster?” Dor whispered.

“I… I don’t know.”

Another head popped above the surface to join the first, then another, and another, and soon a small herd of the river creatures bobbed in the river, staring at them. One of them cocked its head.

“Let’s back up,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Slowly.”

The river creatures watched them curiously. One bobbed closer and chattered at them gently. Soon Dor and Twilight stood upon the bank of the river, dripping, watching the creatures cautiously.

The one in the lead chittered, then made deep noise that sound like “Osh, osh, osh…” As one, the river creatures dipped below the surface with a faint series of plops, and their rippling wake moved lazily downriver. 

Dor and Twilight looked at each other.

“They were kind of cute,” said Twilight. And she shook herself, flinging water everywhere.

They ate from the rations, then sat in their tent and meditated until they grew sleepy. Dor snuggled under a thick purple comforter. Next to her, Twilight Sparkle curled upon herself, then pulled a bright pink comforter up to her neck. The tent was big enough they had plenty of space, but they lay near to each other. Dor took comfort in the closeness.

She dreamed as she hadn’t in months. She dreamed of angels shaped like horses defending a city called Haven. She dreamed of an elfin man infused with the power of courage. She dreamed of a girl and her little sister, standing at a bus stop, sheltered from a downpour by an umbrella, and accompanied by a large, cuddly totoro. Her dreams danced from place to place, form to form, mind to mind. Her vision swam with it, tinted with white and blue and red, tingling with the aether of the Blind Eternities.

She took a deep breath, just this side of waking. She could feel her body curled close around Twilight’s, the unicorn’s rhythmic breathing deep and gentle. Dor released her breath, letting her mind sink back to sleep.

She sat on the bank of a river. Smooth as glass. Upon the surface, floating gently downriver, were flower petals curled upon themselves like tiny boats, in every color she could think of. They drifted and turned, bumped and bobbed.

A ripple came down river. It disrupted the gentle course of the petals, sending them careening into each other.

Her dream narrowed upon two of the petals. One was deep velvet purple marked with bright pink speckles. The other was vivid scarlet streaked with gold. The purple one was Equestria. The scarlet was that tertiary version of the Wizarding World from which she and Twilight had taken Ravenclaw’s Diadem. And as another ripple came the two swirled about and bumped into each other. A third, white on one side, red on the other, and marked with a silver dot in the center, spun into their orbit.

Dor tried to find the place where they met, but the meeting was brief and chaotic. She needed to be there before it happened. She needed to get in front of the ripple.

The empty, grey-scale playing card flickered through her thoughts and she brushed it aside. Much as she enjoyed developing spells, she needed to focus.

A third ripple came. She could see it coming. She tried to send her mind ahead, to anticipate. The empty card flickered through her mind again, distracting her, and she let out a frustrated sigh. For a moment, she saw Rainbow Dash, the brash, confident pegasus zipping about at super speed. She admired the young woman’s confidence and was in awe of her speed, but now was not the time.

She grasped the card firmly with a thought, and set it aside.

The river, with its flower petals, still lay before her, but now she was well behind the two petals she wished to focus upon. She sprinted along the bank of the dream river, trying to catch up, even as another ripple swelled upon its surface. She just wasn’t fast enough to anticipate the effects of the ripple upon the river, just as she and Twilight hadn’t been fast enough to catch the planar ripple in the Everfree Forest.

The empty playing card tickled at the edge of her attention, and she finally understood why.

She was pulled from the dream and back to the tent where she sat up, staring with vacant eyes at the canvas wall. A moment later, Twilight sat up and blinked at her.

“Is something wrong?”

“I had a thought,” said Dor. She explained her dream. Twilight Sparkle listened carefully, nodding thoughtfully. “Like you said, we need to anticipate the ripple. I think with Rainbow Dash’s speed, we might be able to get ahead of it.”

“With your power to traverse the planes and magical experience, I think that could work.”

“But I don’t have the spell yet,” said Dor. “I’ve been putting off trying to learn it because…” She blushed and cleared her throat.

“Because of what Starswirl did to you.”

Dor nodded. “Most of my spells were created intuitively or in moments of stress. I just want to be able to create a spell deliberately. I’ve only managed that once before.”

Twilight Sparkle sat up straight and smiled. “Would you mind if I watched? I might even be able to help.”

“Thank you,” said Dor.

She cast [Pince’s Catalogue] and [Jean’s Telepathy] to order her mind and connect it to Twilight’s. Then she cast [Dor’s Mindpocket] and stepped into the space, and with her mind firmly grasping Twilight’s, the unicorn came with her.

“What is this?” said Twilight Sparkle.

“This is the room in my mind,” said Dor. “You taught me to use it as a mnemonic for meditation. This is what it’s become.”

“Dor, this is amazing. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Dor went to the table and opened her grimoire. “These are the spells I’ve learned. You said earlier you had questions. What do you want to know?”

Twilight wanted to know everything, so Dor took her time, explaining each spell in turn, the inspiration for learning it, and how it worked when she cast it.

“Oh, that one’s me!” Twilight said, when she saw [Twilight’s Blink].

“The first spell I learned,” said Dor.

When they’d read the last spell, Dor focused and the grey-scale card came readily to mind. It coalesced and settled upon the plastic, nine-pocket page with a clicking clatter.

“What do we do?” said Twilight Sparkle.

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Dor. “I’ve never just sat down and tried to do it before.”

“Well, the basics of magic are mental focus and imagination,” said Twilight. Dor smiled, remembering her first lesson. “So, let’s start there. Focus on what it felt like when you first met Rainbow Dash. Imagine what it might be like to be her…”

Dor closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the words of the unicorn wash over her. She felt the mindpocket around her expand with her chest. In her memory, she could see the brash pegasus fighting off the plant-furred gorilla monsters, kicking and bucking and dashing about in streaks of rainbow-banded light.

The power at her shoulders spread throughout. Her chest tingled just above her heart. Her breathing buzzed with anticipation. She imagined what it would be like to move with such confidence, faster than the eye could follow, leaving a trail of light in her wake.

The grey-scale card buzzed with energy. Sparks of purple lightning leapt down the border, golden whisps of light streaked across its face. The art steadied and solidified, depicting Rainbow Dash at high speed, streaking across the sky, grinning with confidence, rainbow light proud in her wake. The text sparked into existence next, as the border filled in scarlet.

Rainbow’s Dash

Cost:    RRR

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Pegasus Instant

Text:     Until the beginning of your next turn, cards you own have Flash, creatures you control have haste and triple strike, and you may activate loyalty abilities of planeswalkers you control on any player’s turn any time you could cast an instant.

The spell took its place after Elmira’s fire spells, just before the golden-bordered multi-colored spells. Flush with success, skin buzzing, hearts hammering, eyes wide, they stared at each other, grinning.

“You did it,” said Twilight.

“We did it,” said Dor. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Twilight demurred but smiled.

The mindpocket buckled as though buffeted from an outside force, the books shifted and rustled, Dor and Twilight staggered. There was a distant rumble as though from a thunderstorm.  

“What was that?” said Twilight Sparke.

“I think… I think that’s a planar ripple.

“Then this is our chance. How do we…”

Struck with inspiration, Dor flipped to the last page of spells in her grimoire and pointed to [Gems’ Fusion]. “If you’re willing, we can combine our abilities. I’ve come to learn these sorts of things are always easier with friends.”

Twilight’s grin widened. “You know what they say, friendship is magic, after all.”

The magic danced across Dor’s shoulders. Her wand appeared in her hand and she touched it to the spell. She felt that same power vibrating within Twilight Sparkle: the calm blue of thought, the organized structure of white. Dor added the red of passion hammering in her chest. The spell took hold, fusing body, mind, and soul into a single, harmonious being.

She stood strong upon four hooved feet, her lithe pony body covered in glossy lavender fur, her hooves dark and opalescent. From her pony body rose a female human torso, skin pale and freckled at the shoulders, with dark purple nipples upon her small, pert breasts. From her human forehead grew a delicate spiral horn, and it glowed bright with purple magic, shot through with gold. Her sweptback hair fell down her back like a wild mane streaked with auburn, pink, and purple. She was a centaur concentrated with the energy of two mages, tall and lithe and powerful.

The diadem was secure in one of Twilight Sparkle’s saddlebags, but all it took was a thought and a glow of purple magic to reach from Dor’s mindpocket to Twilight’s saddlebag and grasp it.

With another thought, she threw open the doorway of the mindpocket into L-Space. Her horn sparked with purple lightning and she dashed into the book-lined Infinite Library, that space between planes, the Blind Eternities. She cast [Rainbow’s Dash]. The spell did not last long, moments at best, but those moments stretched in all directions, time folding upon itself, the books of the library streaking past in a blur of color, title, and syntax. Her hooves beat upon the floor in rapid tattoo. Her perception sped and it was as though all the multiverse, all the infinite, alternate, and parallel planes of existence; every dream, every thought, every spark of imagination, was open to her.

And she saw it.

She saw the subtle wave distorting the nature of the Blind Eternities, sending a ripple down the shelves of the Infinite Library. The shelved books viewed as though through a bent mirror. She knew she had to get ahead of it.

The moments afforded to [Rainbow’s Dash] wore thin, so she cast it again, thundering for the ripple, purple lightning and golden streaks in her wake.

The ripple intensified, squeezing the corridor, as though trying to block her out. She cast the spell again and even the planar ripple slowed to a crawl. She leapt for the space in between, stretching herself as long and lean as she could, scraping shoulders and flanks upon the bookspines of eternity.

She landed in the Everfree Forest, recognizing the taste of it. At first she thought she’d failed, then [Rainbow’s Dash] ran its course and the speed of reality caught up with her. She could feel the ripple building and reality wavered. In the next moment, the forest shifted, still wild, but not as magical. The plane of Equestria had been overlaid by the plane of the Wizarding World.

She knew, intuitively, that this was the same Albanian Forest in which the Grey Lady had hidden Ravenclaw’s Diadem. There were many versions, she knew, of the Wizarding World, many ways this story could, would, and had played out. This version might be tertiary, but that didn’t make it unimportant.

It felt right to return the diadem.

She stepped up to the hollow tree and placed the diadem where they’d found it, months ago now. As soon as she let go the diadem and took a step back, the planar overlay shifted and the hollow tree was gone.

Chapter Text

They returned to Ponyville to much excitement. Though they’d only spent four days wandering the Everfree Forest, it had been just over a month since they’d entered. Dor suspected the planar ripples coupled with their rapid use of [Rainbow’s Dash] in the Infinite Library had something to do with the temporal discrepancy.

They were met by a bright pink pony with a wildly curly mane who escorted the pair with fanfare and balloons and fireworks to a sweets shop called Sugar Cube Corner where they were seated in pride of place. Twilight Sparkle introduced their escort as Pinkie Pie, one of Twilight’s friends. A crowd gathered around them at the sweets shop, and Dor was introduced to Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and a whole host of others. Twilight Sparkle addressed the crowd, recounting their adventure, while Pinkie Pie plied them with cupcakes and ice creams and sodas.

The story spread and the crowd grew.

Dor let Twilight tell and retell the story. She endured the stares from the ponyfolks and answered questions only if they were directly asked of her. Late in the morning, as the crowd thinned, a trio of fillies approached Dor. They asked her what it was like to be a human, what her favorite hobby was, and whether they could see her cutie mark. 

“Humans don’t have cutie marks,” Dor explained.

“No way,” said the white-furred unicorn.

“Can we see?” asked the orange-furred pegasus.

Dor blushed, but the fillies looked at her with nothing but genuine awe, and she decided it was fine. She stood, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, then pulled them down to mid-thigh. Her bright purple panties with the black waistband were brief-cut, but she took hold of the hem on one side and pulled them up to show her pale, bare flank with no cutie mark.

The fillies looked at each other, wide-eyed. 

Dor rearranged her clothes and sat.

“But you helped Twilight Sparkle fight off the monsters in the Everfree Forest?” The filly who spoke had pale yellow fur, vibrant red hair, and wide, yellow-orange eyes.

Dor shrugged. “Yes.”

“Actually,” said Twilight, “It’s more like I helped her.”

The fillies gasped. The yellow one turned to the others. “Girls, we have work to do.” And they galloped off.

When the crowd thinned out, and Dor had eaten more sugary snacks than she ever had before, Rarity invited them back to Carousel Boutique, her clothing shop. 

“I don’t want to impose, darling, but there’s nopony in all of Equestria shaped like you, and, well, I was hoping you’d allow me the chance to sew a dress for you. I’ll understand, of course, if you’re absolutely exhausted from your adventure, but if you have any time at all to stand for a few measurements, perhaps pick out some fabric that’s to your liking…” Rarity, a white unicorn with a dark purple mane and a trio of diamonds upon her flank, smiled at Dor with wide, winsome eyes.

Dor expected to be exhausted after everything she’d just been through, but she felt oddly energized, and nodded. “I’d be happy to. It’s just, I don’t have any local currency. I’m not sure I can pay you for…”

“Oh, nonsense, darling. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Which is how Dor found herself stripped to her purple panties, standing self-consciously upon a raised platform, while Rarity measured every bit of her, taking notes and chatting like they were old friends. Twilight Sparkle joined them, and Dor was grateful, unsure she could have stood the embarrassment without a familiar face.

“Do humans wear clothes all the time?” Rarity asked.

Dor blushed and nodded.

“How absolutely glamorous.”

When the measuring was done, Dor got dressed and the three of them looked through rack after rack of cloth.

Dor thought they were all beautiful and couldn’t choose. “I really like purple and yellow,” she said. “But I don’t know if those go together.”

“Of course they do. In the right hands, just about any pair of colors can go together. Now, off with you. I’ve work to do.”

It was midafternoon by the time Dor and Twilight returned to Golden Oak Library.

“I’m exhausted,” Twilight said. “I just want to curl up with a good book and read quietly for a while.”

“That sounds lovely,” Dor agreed.

Golden Oak Library, housed in the hollow bole of a titanic tree, was a single room lined with bookshelves and filled with books, with small reading nooks throughout. The girls spent some time perusing the shelves. Dor scanned the titles, sleepily until she was startled by a familiar bookspine: Theories of the Multiverse by Starswirl the Bearded. It was the same book, one of three, that Madam Pince had found for her in the library at Hogwarts. She pulled the book from the shelf.

“Right. I should have remembered.”

“Should have remember what?” said Twilight.

Dor explained about studying the multiverse at Hogwarts. “This was one of the books Madam Pince found for me. I wonder how a copy of this book made its way there. Maybe through L-Space.”

“What’s L-Space?”

Dor looked into her mindpocket and withdrew Considering L-Space by the Librarian of Unseen University, transcribed by Ponder Stibbons. They climbed into one of the quiet, cushioned cubbies, and read the book together.

It was later, much later, when they were interrupted.

Spike had brought them dinner, and then a pot of herbal tea, and was likely asleep in the apartment upstairs. Dor had switched from Considering L-Space to Theories of the Multiverse by Starswirl the Bearded and had loaned Twilight Quantum Physics and Parallel Worlds, by Reed Richards, Ph.D.

The door to the library opened and cool night air spilled in.

“You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about me.” It was Starswirl himself, blue cape crisp, pointed hat tall, expression smug and certain. He pushed the door closed with a back hoof and strode into the library.

Dor noted her page, closed the book, and stood from the cubby to face the unicorn. Twilight joined her.

“She didn’t,” Twilight Sparkle said firmly. “I found out on my own. But if you’re so worried about being seen, what are you doing here?”

Starswirl was taken aback. Dor got the impression he’d expected to be welcomed enthusiastically. “Ah. Well, I wanted to congratulate Ms. Dorothy on a job well done. That’s why I’m here.”

Dor crossed her arms and forced herself to take a careful breath. “Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t have done it without Twilight Sparkle. She’s been an effective teacher and a good friend.”

The venerable wizard looked from one to the other. After a moment, his eyes lit upon the side table where the teapot and a pair of still warm mugs sat.

“Aren’t you going to offer me any tea?”

“No.” Twilight’s voice was firm, strident even. “I cannot believe what you did to Dorothy.”

Starswirl had the grace to look embarrassed. “Told you about that, did she? It was the only way to—”

“I have idolized you all my life and it turns out you’re nothing but a bully. You had no cause to spank my friend. None. You know nothing of kindness or friendship or…” The unicorn fairly vibrated with fury.

“I was only—”

Twilight Sparkle stamped a hoof and pink and purple motes of magic sprang from it. “No excuses. You behaved abhorrently. You’re a bully, at best.”

Dor’s heart raced and her ears rang and she tried desperately to keep her tears in check. But the welling gratitude she felt for Twilight in that moment could not be contained. Several tears slid down her cheeks.

“Ah. Well. Yes. I see. My…” he cleared his throat. “My apologies.” He looked at Dor. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“How could you possibly?” Twilight demanded.

Dor wiped at her tears and cleared her throat. “Um, actually, I have questions. About planeswalking.” She glanced at Twilight Sparkle. The unicorn’s jaw was set. “But only if it’s all right with Twilight that you stay a while. A little while.”

Twilight took a careful breath, then nodded.

The bearded old unicorn straightened and smiled. “Well then. I’m a bit of an expert. I even wrote a book on it. Ask away.”

Dor relaxed a mote, letting her arms fall to her side. She reached into her mindpocket, opened the grimoire, and cast [Pince’s Catalogue]. Her thoughts organized and she came up with a pair of questions.

“We’re not speaking English, are we?”

The unicorn shook his head. “Magnificent, isn’t it? Planeswalkers reflexively adapt to the linguistic environment of their surroundings. You can read and speak whatever language you interact with. Writing those languages is… inconsistent based upon my observations and it makes actually learning those languages a bit of a challenge, but still, an incredibly useful ability.”

“It is,” Dor agreed. “The only time it hasn’t worked for me was when I was in my dragonform and spoke to Rainbow Dash and Twilight.” 

“Hmm.” Starswirl took several moments to consider.

Dor sipped her tea and glanced at Twilight who raised an eyebrow at her.

“You all right?” Twilight whispered.

Dor gave a small nod

After a few moments more, Starswirl said, “My guess is that something about your dragonform didn’t conform to linguistic adaptability. Perhaps that has something to do with where or how you learned to shapeshift. Or perhaps the shape of your dragonform’s mouth. I can’t say for certain though.”

Dor sipped at her tea again, considering how to phrase her next question. Starswirl waited patiently. Twilight stood next to her, a comforting support.

“There’s no magic on my plane,” Dor said. “Or at least, not so far as I know. But I became a planeswalker, and I’ve been to a few versions of Earth, each with magic or powers of some kind. So, I wonder if my version of Earth is an anomaly.” She hadn’t actually asked a question, but she let the statement hang.

After a moment, Starswirl nodded.

“There are hundreds of versions of Equestria and I keep an eye on each of them. But there are billions upon billions of versions of your homeplane. In most of them, planet Earth is central. Some of these planes parallel each other, some are alternate. For example, there are dozens of versions of the Marvelverse, an Earth alternate to yours but which parallel each other.

“Most versions of Earth, however, are Mundania.

“Mundania are planes with little to no magic. And yet, there is a wealth of creativity in Earth Mundania. All manner of stories in all manner of media flood those worlds. I have yet to find a plane in the Multiverse that wasn’t represented in the art of Mundania. Equestria included.

“I wonder, do the authors and artists of Mundania create the worlds about which they write and dream, or are they inspired by those worlds to create? It could be Mundania is a poor name and Earth Mundania have more magic than any other plane. It could be they’re home to countless creator gods.”

Starswirl had taken on a contemplative tone, and he stared into space for several moments before shaking from it and looking from Dor to Twilight Sparkle and back again. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

“I should be on my way,” he said. “Unless you have any more questions?” He looked at Dor.

Dor shook her head, thoughts swimming. “Thank you for your time.”

“I should be thanking you. You did very well, especially for a planeswalker not a year into her powers.” He straightened himself, then bowed his head to her formally. “You have my thanks, Dorothy. And my apologies.” He gave them each a look, then a small smile, and with a crack of magic, he was gone.

In the morning, they were woken by the sound of conversation and the smell of breakfast. Dor sat up and stretched to find herself sharing a bed with Twilight Sparkle and Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey by the Doctor. They’d stayed up late reading books on the Multiverse. Dor didn’t remember falling asleep.

“Spike? Is someone here?” Twilight asked sleepily

Dor looked around but could not find the little dragon. “I think he must be downstairs.”

Twilight Sparkle yawned and stretched. “We should see what’s going on.”

Downstairs they found the library filled with Twilight Sparkle’s friends. Spike had prepared breakfast and brought them each a cup of tea when they emerged.

“Dorothy, darling, I brought you your dress,” Rarity quite nearly sang. “You must try it on. You will, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Dor said, setting her tea down.

“This way.” Rarity lead Dor to a side room.

Standing upon a post in the middle of the room was a human-shaped mannequin. And upon the mannequin was a beautiful dress. It was jewel-toned purple, vibrant, almost shining, with golden embroidery in repeating swirling patterns about the bodice and down the torso, along the waist and scrolling down the skirts in equidistant tapers. It had a high collar and a low back and no sleeves. It fell to ankle length in gentle pleats. It was a work of art. Exquisite and beautiful and expensive. Dor feared to touch it. She was far too plain a creature to wear something so beautiful.

“What’s wrong?” said Rarity. “Do you need assistance? I’d be happy to help.”

“I don’t…” Dor swallowed her tears. 

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Dor said. “Too beautiful. I couldn’t…”

“Dorothy, we don’t know each other, but you helped Twilight Sparkle, a dear friend to me. Any friend of Twilight’s is a friend to me.” Rarity’s tone was gentle. “I made this for you. It is meant to be worn. You don’t have to, of course, but please do not feel as though you’re unallowed. In fact, I would be honored if you’d wear it at least this once.” 

Dor needed some help with the crisscrossing straps over the back of her neck, and the laces in the back, but once it was on, the dress was soft, comfortable, and far easier to wear than Dor would have expected. It made her feel beautiful and powerful, and when she looked in the full-length mirror set upon a stand in the corner of the room, she was stunned to see a poised young woman staring back at her.

Dor stayed with Twilight Sparkle for a few weeks, and together they studied books about the Multiverse. The Infinite Library, holding every book that ever was, would, and could be, had multiple versions of multiple books detailing the multitudes of the Multiverse. But some versions were more complete than others, so Dor searched the Infinite Library for those versions: most complete and most stable.

There were the books she’d read at Hogwarts, but there were others she discovered in her search: The Wood Between the Worlds by Digory Kirk, Breaching and Vibeing by Cisco Ramon, The Long Earth by Terry Pratchett.

She made sure to take some time each day to visit her friends through the multiverse: the Chens, the Ornitiers, the Hufflepuffs, the X-Men, to explain why she’d disappeared for a month and assure them she was all right.

But as the weeks passed, the weight of the artifacts in her grimoire grew, pressing at her shoulders as she had known they would. When the weight became a distraction, she bid goodbye to Spike and Twilight, promising to visit when she could.

Dor sat in the room in her mind, the card of Camelot’s Excalibur on the table before her. Her mind was open with [Jean’s Telepathy] and she focused upon the card, letting her breath, her heart, her thoughts pulse with the power warming her, the spark connecting her to the vast multitudes of Multiverse upon Multiverse.

She was calm, and she was confident.

A golden spark lit upon the card as the pulsing within her resonated upon a specific version of a specific plane within a specific multiverse. The pulse of her chest matched to the thrumming of the sword and its homeplane. And the golden spark reached between them, constructing a path through L-Space.

Chapter Text

Emperor Krulos, Warlord of the Rulons and Commander of the Dreadlock, swaggered across the open field from his encampment toward the canvas pavilion where he was set to parley with the humans of Camelot. Behind him, a phalanx of Imperial Guard, led by Commander Rasp, marched, their power armor heavy on the meadowed turf. 

These mammalian creatures were even weaker than the Valorians. They were iron-age at best and had no technology that could pierce the shadows of the forest in which the Dreadlock was docked. They had no energy weapons, no psionics, and no dinosaurs. And when they fell to him and his superiority, the kingdom of Camelot, primitive though it was, would be his. If he couldn’t return to his time and his empire, he would conquer this world and strip its resources.

When the Dreadlock, flagship of the Rulon Empire, had appeared on this mudball, Emperor Krulos had assumed the wretched Valorians had finally repaired their STEP and banished the Rulons. But after a few days of sending raptor scouts, engaging with the locals, and calibrating the sensors of the Dreadlock, Emperor Krulos had concluded that they’d been overtaken by some form of magic.

Which was why he was exercising caution.

Magic was not unknown to the Rulon Empire, but they had no way to measure its capability. Even so, the contingency of dinoriders and the concealed Dreadlock should be more than enough to deal with the iron-age rabble gathering on the far side of the parley pavilion.

Emperor Krulos grinned.

Syr Arthur, King of Camelot, allowed Syr Galahad to make certain of the buckles on his armor. He wasn’t wearing full mail, only leather sewn with metal plates.

“Are you certain you won’t take at least a dagger, sire?” Syr Galahad asked.

“We agreed upon no weapons at the parley,” replied Syr Arthur.

“Yes, sire,” said Syr Galahad.

“You know this is likely a trap,” said Syr Guinevere, standing just behind and to the side of Syr Galahad.

Syr Arthur nodded. “And yet they asked for parley. I will not attack foreigners for not knowing our ways and I’ll not cut off a hand extended in peace.”

Syr Galahad was going over the buckles for the third time, so Arthur took a step back and looked the two of them over. Guinevere was likely right. This smelled of a trap, but he knew he had to try. He was wary, but felt bolstered knowing a contingent of the Knights of the Round Table were near and at the ready.

“Well then?” said the king.

“Let us spring a trap,” said Syr Galahad.

They met the Rulons under a red and gold striped pavilion. Each party of three stopped just out of sword’s reach.

“Thank you for coming,” started Syr Arthur.

The frog-headed man, Emperor Krulos, held up a hand. “You’re the king?” He sounded incredulous. “A sorry king for a sorry land. No wonder your peasants are unafraid.”

Syr Arthur set his jaw. “I don’t know what you think a king is meant to be, but I’ll have you know that every citizen of Camelot is under the protection of the Knights of the Round Table. The farmers slain by your men—”

“You are king. Your word is absolute. If that rabble had insulted you as they insulted me, you would have executed them as I did. It is our right as sovereigns.”

“Insult is not a crime, and actual crime is adjudicated by a system of courts.” Syr Arthur clasped his hands behind his back, glad he had foregone weaponry as the creature opposite was infuriating. “In fact, by the laws of Camelot, you and your men should be brought on charges.”

The frog-man scoffed. “Me? You would put the Emperor of the Rulons on trial?”

“I would.”

“Enough of this drivel.” Emperor Krulos gestured and a piece of armor detached itself from his back. With a practiced maneuver, he brought it forward and pointed it at Syr Arthur.

Dor stepped from the golden road in L-Space and into a dusty, cramped study lit by several candles in a variety of holders and sconces. A man sat upon a rude wooden chair, leaning upon a desk, peering at a leather-bound book. His beard was dark with streaks of grey and short cropped. His hair thinned on top, white at the temples. He wore a plain grey and brown robe. When he blinked up at Dor, though his face was lined, he did not appear to be ancient.

“Merlin?” Dor asked.

The man shifted to sit up straight and turn his chair to face her.

“Aye, lass. And who might you be, who can so blithely enter my study?”

“My name is Dorothy Alice Wendy. I’m…”

Merlin held up a hand. “You do not appear to be a Rulon, though who’s to say there aren’t humans amongst their ranks. What are you doing here? And be truthful, or I’ll know.”

Dor swallowed hard and put her hands behind her back. “I don’t know what a Rulon is, sir. I’m here because… Was Excalibur taken from the court by a man named Mr. Quillon?”

The wizard’s eyebrows shot up. “How do you know of that? The theft of Excalibur has been closely guarded.”

“He kidnapped me. Sort of. He tried to get me to help him steal artifacts from across the Multiverse. But he’s gone now.”

“Gone?”

Dor cleared her throat and looked away. Her shoulders tensed and her back shivered. “I tricked him into creating a paradox.”

“Ah.” Merlin nodded. “And the Infinite Library destroyed him for it.”

“Yes,” said Dor. “How do you…” She shook her head. “You are Merlin, after all.”

He smiled with a hint of pride. “And what of it, lass?”

“Right,” said Dor. “Um, I have it. Mr. Quillon’s mindcage, the Infinite Library, it anchored to my mind and all the artifacts he’d stolen, I have now.”

She reached into her mindpocket and plucked Camelot’s Excalibur from her grimoire. The card vibrated in her mental grasp and when she pulled it into Merlin’s Study, the power at her shoulders tensed then exploded from her hands in bright light and a shimmering song. She held the sword, two hands around its long handle. It was much too heavy for her and the tip fell with a thunk into the wooden floor.

Merlin stood up in surprise.

“Gods be praised,” Merlin said. He reached for the sword, then stopped. “May I?”

“Yes, please,” said Dor.

He took the blade by the handle, in both hands, and lifted it carefully, point down. A small chunk of floor splintered.

“It’s really here. It’s really back. You have my thanks, lass. With Excalibur, perhaps…” He blinked at her. “You have access to the Infinite Library?”

Dor nodded.

“And you are a planeswalker?”

She nodded again.

“Have you ever heard of beings called the Rulons? Lead by a man called Emperor Krulos?”

Dor shook her head. Then a thought occurred to her. “You want me to search the Infinite Library for information on these Rulon people? And Emperor…”

“Emperor Krulos. Yes. You have done the Kingdom of Camelot a great service by returning Excalibur, and I would not presume to prevail upon you further, but I fear we are in grave peril.”

“Not at all,” said Dor. “I’d be happy to help.” She turned to find the bookshelf she’d walked through to enter Merlin’s study. She knew it would open to her, parting like a misty veil. She looked back over her shoulder at the wizard she knew of from legend. “I’ll be right back.”

She stepped into her mindpocket and took a moment to think. Thus far she’d only used the Infinite Library to walk the planes. She had, from time to time, come upon interesting titles and stopped to peruse them, but she hadn’t yet tried to search it. She wondered if the library had a catalogue, but quickly dismissed the idea. A catalogue for an infinite library would be, itself, infinite and not much help. An encyclopedia perhaps? Something she could use to look up the words Merlin had said: Rulons, and Emperor Krulos.

The door from her mindpocket to L-Space rattled gently as though the space beyond had moved, or her mindpocket had moved through it, responding to her thought. She approached and opened it cautiously. Beyond, she found a titanic, spherical room. She kept her hand on the handle to the door of her mindpocket and gazed into the inside of that sphere. 

From her doorway extended a walkway, suspended at the sphere’s equator, and stretching to a circular platform at the center of the inside of the sphere. And though the sphere was massive, perhaps infinite, she could perceive it as though it weren’t. Looking at the inside of the sphere, she realized it was covered in bookshelves, filled with books, each bookspine, white with a grey title, pointed toward the center of the room. It was what she’d asked for. A room filled with encyclopedias, an encyclopedia of everything, as boundless as the Infinite Library.

She looked at the circular platform in the center of the sphere. And though the space to fit an infinite encyclopedia must also be infinite, she knew she could move down the walkway to that platform in a matter of moments.

Carefully, Dor let go the doorknob. The mindpocket did not disappear and she could still feel it in her mind. Confident she would not lose her way, Dor walked carefully down the walkway, leaving the door open, just in case. At the center of the circular platform stood a simple, cylindrical, plinth of silvery white. And upon the plinth were a keyboard and a screen.

Dor knew about typewriters, and had seen computers at Xavier’s Institute. She knew what they were and vaguely how they worked. The screen was a soft, dove grey, and at its center blinked vertical black line.

Dor looked from the screen to the keyboard then pressed the key marked with an “R”. The letter appeared on the screen, to the left of the blinking line. It took her longer than she’d have liked to type in the word “Rulon”, but she managed it. And when she looked up from the screen, the spherical room had become much smaller, no bigger than her mindpocket. A simple shelf stood on the curved wall before her with three books upon it: one a listing of significant people by that name; one describing a kind of plastic, and one labeled Dinoriders: the Rulon-Valorian Conflict.

Dor pulled the book from the shelf and flipped through it quickly.

When Emperor Krulos of the Rulon Empire attacked the Valorian flagship in an attempt to appropriate its experimental technology, the Valorians attempted to escape the using the "Space Time Energy Projector" (STEP). But the device malfunctioned and sent both groups to prehistoric Earth.

Upon landing, the Valorians - led by Questar - used their Amplified Mental Projectors (AMP) to telepathically communicate with the dinosaurs they encountered and eventually befriend them. 

In contrast, the Rulons used brainwashing devices known as brain-boxes to capture and control their own dinosaurs. The Rulons then launched an attack on the Valorians, who called upon their dinosaur friends to assist them in fighting back.

There were several, full-color depictions of Emperor Krulos and the Rulons. Dor took the book and hurried back across the walkway to her mindpocket. She pulled the door closed and the handle shivered. When it stopped, she opened the door again and stepped through L-Space to Merlin’s study.

“Here’s what I found,” said Dor, handing over the book.  “According to this, the Rulons are a warlike people. Pirates. Conquerors. They enslaved monsters called dinosaurs.”

Merlin looked up at her and took the book, setting Excalibur point down upon the floor to lean against his desk. He flipped through the book quickly. It wasn’t terribly thick. There didn’t appear to be a lot of information on the Rulons, the Valorians, or their conflict, but he turned the pages so quickly, Dor wondered if he was actually able to read that fast. After a few minutes, he handed the book back, looking grim.

“I fear the Knights of the Round Table, and all of Camelot, are in grave danger.” He picked up Excalibur by its handle. “But perhaps with this, we can defeat the threat. I can sense the magic in you. You are a wizard, are you not?”

Dor swallowed hard and nodded.

“Have you a spell that allows you to fly?”

Dor’s heart pounded, but she nodded.

“Then follow me, Dororhty Alice Wendy, and perhaps together we can save Camelot.”

Merlin led her from the study to a cramped stone hallway. After a quick series of turns, they came upon a broad set of stairs that curved against a stone wall. They hurried up the stairs and through a heavy wooden door, emerging upon the flat roof of a round tower upon which stood men in leather armor, armed with longbows. They looked startled when the two emerged, then one of them saluted Merlin.

“Syr Merlin. Is there a problem?”

Merlin nodded. “Aye, lad. Strengthen the castle’s defenses. Full alert. The knights upon field of parlay are about to be attacked.” Merlin turned to Dor. “Cast your spells and let us fly.”

Dor put the book on Dinoriders into her mindpocket, then shifted into her dragonform while shedding her clothes. She leapt from the tower roof as Merlin did. He flew without wings, robes flapping about his legs. He turned an impressed look upon her, then held out Excalibur, handle first.

“I’ll be faster if I’m unencumbered. Can you carry the sword in this form?” He shouted over the wind as they flew.

Dor took the sword in one clawed, draconic hand then pumped her wings, letting Merlin take the lead. Details emerged as they rushed through the air. The city spread below them, and beyond stretched a field of summer green. The city rushed below, and as they approached the wall, Dor could make out a spot of color against the dark blue green of forest in the distance.

She pumped her wings harder, flattening her legs to her body, making herself like an arrow, cutting through the air. Merlin fell behind, but she didn’t need him to show her the way. 

The spot of color soon resolved into the shape of a great pavilion. Dor could see a coterie of knights stood in a defensive phalanx perhaps fifty yards from the side nearest her, while on the far end stood a knot of humanoid figures in strange armor.

They crossed over the wall of the city.

A sudden triple blast of light followed by high pitched cracks threw the scene at the pavilion into chaos. Dor could not be sure at this distance, but she felt certain the Rulons had betrayed their parlay with Camelot. As Dor pumped her wings harder, pushing her dragonform to its utmost, a trio of knights emerged from the pavilion. One man dragged another by his shoulders as the phalanx of knights hurried forward, shields up, arrows flying. The third knight backed slowly, shield up against bursts of energy popping from within the pavilion.

The three retreating knights were met by their allies and the defensive phalanx formed up around them. The shield-bearing knight tended to the injured one, pulling off his helmet and unbuckling his breastplate, trying to get at his wounds. Dor could see a glint of gold upon the injured man’s helmet and realized he was King Arthur.

From the trees came the dinosaurs, reptilian behemoths clad in metal harnesses and saddles, mounted with weaponry. They charged from the dark wood in the distance, the barrels of their weapons glowing with power. Even worse, from deep within the forest, a massive metal machine rose to the air.

The knights were outnumbered, outmuscled, and outclassed.

Dor knew she could drop Excalibur and flee to another plane of existence, that she’d delivered the stolen artifact to its homeplane and it would no longer weigh upon her. She also knew if she fled, that cowardice would weigh upon her conscience far more heavily than Excalibur ever had.

Dor aimed for a spot just behind the phalanx of knights, and released Camelot’s Excalibur. It tumbled end over end to land point first in the ground, sinking halfway down the length of the blade. For a moment, she saw the startled look of the knight tending King Arthur. And in that moment, Dor saw a circle of gold upon that knight’s helmet, and the feminine features below it, and knew this was Queen Guinevere.

“Take it.”

Syr Guinevere looked from the shining sword planted in the earth to her husband. Sweat was upon his brow, blood at the corner of his mouth. His jaw was set against the pain of his wounds. Merlin was nearly with them, he’d called within their minds to warn them against firing upon the draconic ally advancing upon their rear. Merlin had some healing magic. He would heal Arthur and…

“Take it, Syr Guinevere,” Arthur said again.

“I will stay with you, Syr Arthur.”

“Gods you’re a stubborn woman.”

“It’s why you love me.”

Syr Arthur laughed, then winced. “It truly is. But you must take up Excalibur. It is returned to us. Take it and beat back these monstrous fiends.”

“And what of you?” Her voice caught, sending tears down her cheeks.

“You are many things, my love, but you are no healer. You are a knight. You are the Queen of Camelot. You are the fiercest fencer I’ve ever met. Now take up that blade and defend our people.”

With utmost care, Syr Guinevere lay a kiss upon Syr Arthur’s brow. Then she stood and approached the blade. She grasped it about its leather, wire-wound handle with both hands. A tingle of energy sparked through the palms of her gauntlets, and when she pulled, the earth gave way and the blade sprang to her bidding.

Dor shifted her attention to the pavilion. A trio of Rulons emerged. They bore rifles of alien design and wore mechanized armor. The one in the lead had the head of a great, bloated frog. This was Emperor Krulos. Flanking him was a snake-headed man on his right and an insect-headed man on his left. They fired their weapons lazily at the Knights of the Round Table, laughing as they did, but their expressions fell and their eyes went wide as Dor streaked into view.

Dor took a deep breath. Her grimoire flipped open in her mind. She cast [Rainbow’s Dash] and the moments stretched before her. Purple and gold light crackled off her scales. The trio of Rulons slowed almost to a standstill. Magic stirred in her chest and when she breathed out, it exploded upon that trio: [Elmira’s Javelin], [Storm’s Salvo], [Jubilee’s Dazzler]. One after the other, the spells erupted from her throat and rained upon the Rulons.

She did not wait to see the effect of her attack, for the vanguard of the dinoriders fast approached. Five of the smaller dinosaurs, with two powerful legs and great, tooth-filled jaws, rushed forward like cavalry. The mechanized-armored Rulons astride their backs unslung their rifles and took aim at her.

She pumped her wings and took another breath. [Rainbow’s Dash] ended as she exhaled [Harry’s Expelliarmus] at the dinosaur cavalry. She struck two of the five and their rifles spun from their grips and to the turf. The other three fired upon her. One hit and she winced, but her dragon scales were proof enough against the blast and she did not falter.

Then she was upon them.

She snapped her wings open to slow her advance and crashed into dinoriders. She raked and bit, bringing her tail around like a whip and bringing her wings down to buffet. Dor felt as though she’d left her body, as though it was reacting on its own: clawing and biting and tearing. And when it was over, two dead dinosaurs and three dead Rulons lay in the carnage around her. She breathed hard. Tears streamed from her eyes. Bile roiled in her gut. She coughed and spat. Her mouth tasted like blood and vomit.

But she knew it wasn’t over.

Hoping she had done enough damage to the vanguard, Dor took a deep breath, ordered her mind, and cast [Rainbow’s Dash] again. When she pumped her wings, purple lightning danced from their tips. She took to the air, whisps of gold light in her wake.

There were three of the larger dinosaurs: two with a trio of horns upon their faces and armored frill upon their necks, one like a giant version of the beasts she’d just fought, twice as tall as the horned beasts. It charged forward, eyes glowing red. It bore a metal harness supporting a pair of Rulons riding saddles on either flank, directing cannons glowing with energy. Great bursts of canon-fire burned and tore through the field around her.

All of that slowed as [Rainbow’s Dash] took hold and she readied another flurry of spells.

She spat [Harry’s Expelliarmus], one each for the three-horned beasts, hoping the spell would throw off the harnesses and unseat the Rulons with their cannon-armed saddles. For the massive, bipedal dinosaur, she fired [Storm’s Salvo] and [Elmira’s Javelin]. Fire, lightning, and whirlwinds tore at the beast, wounding it, buffeting it, destroying at least one of the flank-side weapons.

She considered striking the dinoriders again, but that massive ship, the Dreadlock she remembered, was making inexorable progress, and the cannon barrels upon it were much larger than those borne by the dinoriders. She was certain she could not stop the ship, but she had to do something. So she angled over the dinosaurs and made for it.  

[Rainbow’s Dash] ran its course and she cast it again.

A buzzing numbness ached at the clawed digits of her dragonform, but the power of the spell made her light and fast. She streaked for the Dreadlock, preparing her spells, feeling the power build in her chest. She did not think fire nor lightning nor wind would do much against the mechanical monstrosity. Instead, she remembered Harry Potter describing the disarming charm. “It is one of my most trusted spells in a conflict. Do not underestimate it.” And she remembered Jubilee using her powers on the mechanical spiders in New York City. She hoped those spells would be as effective on the mechanical weapons of the Dreadlock.

The Dreadlock was slow to react to her presence. She flipped on her side and folded her wings, presenting her scaled back to the weapons of the mechanical ship. It fired upon her, but was slow, only grazing her with the heat of the weapons’ blasts. In return, she cast [Harry’s Expelliarmus] and [Jubilee’s Dazzler] over and over again, strafing its flank. Even with the world slowed to nearly a standstill, even with her perceptions enhanced by superspeed, she could see the massive barrels of the Dreadlock’s cannons falter and fall. Some dropped from the ship entirely. Some sparked and spat and exploded.

Dor was past the ship a moment and a half later, soaring over the expansive forest north of Camelot. The world slowed to normal. Her chest heaved, her heart pounded, her vision went blurry. She knew the signs of mana depletion, knew she was driving herself to exhaustion. But when she looked over her shoulder, she found that though the left flank of the Dreadlock was marked with fires and explosions, the right flank fired relentlessly upon the field of battle.

So she turned and made for ship again.

When she was nearly upon it, she recast her superspeed and strafed it with the same tactics, globules of energy danced along its cannons, streaks of light disarmed it. And when she was past the ship again and the superspeed wore off, she felt as though lead weight had replaced every joint in her body.

She made her way, as best she could, for the Knights of the Round Table.

Merlin had arrived in their ranks, slinging spells this way and that. And there were more. A gruff man bore a rifle spewing flame. An armored man flew upon jets of fire and fired bursts of energy. And a blonde woman in white swung a pair of batons with such acrobatic grace Dor was certain she was superhuman. Even more, another mechanized ship, smaller than the Dreadlock but much more maneuverable, soared overhead, firing upon the larger ship.

Relived exhaustion flooded Dor’s body and she landed upon the field with a thump and a stagger and fell to her belly.

The fight roared about her, but Dor found she could do little more than look about. She was exhausted and even just the thought of casting a spell or lifting a wing sent pain throbbing behind her eyes. Then, not far from her, in the wreckage of the ruined pavilion, the frog-headed Emperor Krulos pushed to his feet and advanced upon Queen Guinevere.

Syr Guinevere, Queen of Camelot, pulled Excalibur from the chest of a viper-faced man, then turned face the snarling, frog-headed man who called himself Emperor Krulos. His armor was scared and blackened from the assault of the purple dragon who’d come to their aide. His ranged weapon was gone. Instead, he bore a sword of crackling energy.

In her hands, Excalibur, the Sword of Camelot, filled her with unearthly energy. She’d spent her life training in combat, and though the man before her was clearly confident, she could see by the way he moved that he was unused to hand-to-hand combat.

“Surrender now and you shall have a merciful death,” Emperor Krulos said.

Syr Guinevere snorted. “You are a liar and a coward. Come meet your fate.”

Emperor Krulos croaked and spat and strode forward, swinging his blade with abandon. Syr Guinevere held her ground, staying light on her feet, watching the way he moved. And when he was close enough to strike her, she sprang to the left and brought Excalibur upon his shoulder. The blade cut through the armor like it was nothing, taking his arm. Emperor Krulos didn’t have time to shout in pain as Syr Guinevere stepped behind him, pulling the blade back, then thrust into his back, aiming for his spine, the point of the sword erupting from his chest.

Dor watched Queen Guinevere kill Emperor Krulos, awed by her deadly efficiency. The death of the emperor sparked something in the Rulons. Somehow they knew, and those still fighting retreated or surrendered.

A great roaring crash shook the air.

Dor looked back at the Dreadlock, still being fired upon by the small ship, breaking apart and crashing upon the edge of the forest. Even as it fell, the Dreadlock continued firing its few remaining canons with desperate abandon. One of those canons tore up the earth in a deadly line of rapid-fire energy, and that line came directly for where Dor lay.

Even though she hadn’t cast [Rainbow’s Dash], she watched the canon-fire come for her, the earth exploding, as though in slow motion. She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders. She folded her wings in tight and hoped her draconic scales might spare her. She had no energy for anything else.

And then Queen Guinevere was there, at her side, shield up, braced to take the impact. The blasts of energy stuck the queen’s shield, knocking the woman back into Dor’s flank. The next grazed Dor’s far flank. She winced and coughed. Her body lit with painful fire. It hurt far more than the rifle-blasts had.

With labored breaths, Dor forced herself to look at the Queen of Camelot through the dust and smoke. And though her vision was bleary, she could see the woman was not moving, was not breathing, was staring into nothing.

Dor looked into her mindpocket and it was as though she had to push though wet sand. She found her grimoire upon the table, and opening it was like lifting a boulder with her bare hands.

Upon the first page she found [Minwu’s Lifa], white border shining like a halo, the image of Minwu limned in golden light, a hint of phoenix wings at her back. Bright, alabaster energy filled Dor’s chest and she breathed it upon the queen even as darkness took her.

Dor awoke, propped up in a thick-cushioned bed, covered in two layers of quilts, and clad in a soft, white nightie. She was in a dim room with stone walls and an arched window and a fire in the hearth. The bed was thick, but narrow and was the only piece of furniture in the room. Dor closed her eyes and relaxed into the pillows. Her head pounded and she knew if she even thought about doing anything remotely related to magic, she’d pass out from the pain. For that matter, she didn’t think she could get out of bed without falling down. She ached from head to toe.

“I do not think I can do this, Sarah.”

The cultured voice came from just outside the room. Dor took careful, even breaths and couldn’t help but overhear.

“Arthur was the adopted son of a blacksmith. He pulled an enchanted blade from an enchanted stone, demonstrating his worth in the eyes of the spirits of this land. He brought together a council of guardians chosen by their peers. He defended this realm against marauders, monsters, and injustice. In the year since Excalibur went missing, the kingdom has deteriorated.”

This, Dor realized, must be Queen Guinevere.

Another voice answered the queen. “I think you need to give yourself more credit. Sure things are dark, but you haven’t given in and you haven’t lost. You kept fighting for what’s right, even without the sword.”

“And what will I do without the King? What will I do without Arthur?”

“You will remember his legacy and carry on.”

The door opened with a faint squeak. Dor opened her eyes to find a pair of women. Guinevere was tall with broad shoulders and long golden-brown hair. She had sharp features and a regal bearing. The other was the woman in white Dor had seen upon the battlefield.

“You’re awake,” said the Queen.

Dor nodded, then winced.

The women approached and stood at Dor’s bedside. Queen Guinevere put a gentle, long fingered hand on Dor’s shoulder.

“Merlin tells us you’ve pushed yourself to your very limit. Please, be still.”

“Yes, your majesty,” said Dor. Her voice was thin, but steady. 

Queen Guinevere smiled gently. “It’s just Guinevere when we’re not in a formal setting,” she said. “And this,” she gestured at the woman in white, “is Captain Sarah Lance of the Waverider. She and her merry band of legends are from the future, if you can believe it.”

“I can,” said Dor.

“In fact, I think you’ve met a friend of mine,” said Captain Lance. “Director Sharpe of the Time Bureau. Do you remember?”

Dor remembered a blonde woman with a stern look in a black suit sitting with her upon a bench in Beach City. “I do.”

“She’s the one who detected a timequake back here in the days of Camelot and asked us to investigate,” said Captain Lance. “She told us there might be an interdimensional young woman who needed our assistance.”

Dor had all manner of questions, but not the energy to sort them out.

“Suffice to say, you are a hero to Camelot,” said the queen. “And you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. Certainly, you must stay until you are recovered.”

“Thank you,” said Dor, voice thick. Her eyes had grown heavy and her breath had grown long and her foggy thoughts drifted to sleep.

After a few days, Dor felt much better. She was largely confined to bed and mostly slept, but when she felt better, she engaged with Merlin at length on all manner of arcane aspects, from planeswalking to spell development, to the colors of magic.

“Different wizards often have different methods for understanding and categorizing magic,” Merlin said. “At least, in my experience. But the underpinnings often seem to be about focus of will and breadth of creativity. Perhaps, in the experience of a planeswalker, you see my way of things as rather narrow?”

Dor laughed and described her first lesson with Twilight Sparkle.

Though the wizard had a tendency to ramble, she got on with him well enough and even showed him her grimoire. And when she finally felt able to leave the bed, he suggested she make her way to the main hall for dinner.

“Have you clothing?” Merlin asked. “You should dress sharp for the occasion. Her Majesty, Syr Guinevere Pendragon, will be in attendance.”

So Dor dressed in her full Hufflepuff uniform, yellow and black tie carefully knotted, before joining Merlin in the hallway and following him through the castle’s windingways.

The main hall of the castle was a massive stone room lit with hanging chandeliers and tall windows. The room was filled with men and women in a variety of dress, from armor to gowns, suits to robes. They all turned to look as Dor arrived and quickly moved to line either side of a red and gold rug running the length of the room to a pair of thrones at the far end. They stood at attention and a hush settled upon them.

“What’s going on?” Dor whispered to Merlin.

Merlin gestured down the length of the room. Dor looked to find Queen Guinevere resplendent in a silver gown, simple golden circlet upon her head, Excalibur in her arms.

“The queen would like to speak with you,” said Merlin. Dor looked at him, eyes panicked. He smiled at her gently. “Go on. You’re not in trouble. She just wants to speak.”

“In front of everyone?”

Merlin nodded. “In front of everyone.”

Dor bit her tongue on the panic threatening to shake her head to toe. She tugged her charcoal grey vest to smooth it, took a breath, and cast [Pince’s Catalogue]. She took another and shelved her panic at the back of her mind. Finally, she stepped into the main hall. The carpet was thick and soft under the soles of her shoes. She made no noise as she walked. She kept her eyes on the queen, fearing if she looked at the gathered, even [Pince’s Catalogue] wouldn’t be enough to keep the panic at bay.

When she was within arm’s reach of the queen, she stopped and gave an awkward bow. Guinevere smiled at her.

“Knights of the Round Table.” Queen Guinevere’s voice carried in the hall. “Before us stands a young woman not of our realm, not of our time, not even of our world. She came out of a sense of duty, to return to us what had been stolen. She stayed in our hour of need to defend what we stand for. Even in her time, on her world, the ideals of Camelot are known and ring true.”

Queen Guinevere looked down at Dor.

“On behalf of the Kingdom of Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table, I thank you.” She bowed.

As one, the knights lining the hall went to one knee. Dor looked around at them, heart hammering, tears at her eyes. The queen straightened and took Excalibur by the handle.

“Dorothy Alice Wendy. If you would do us the honor, kneel.”

Dor swallowed hard. For a moment, she couldn’t move. Then her knees loosened and she dropped with a thud, thankful for the thick carpet between her knees and the stone. Queen Guinevere extended Camelot’s Excalibur and tapped Dor’s shoulders with its flat, first the left, then the right.

“For valor, bravery, and honor, I dub thee, in this world and all others, from now until forever, Syr Dorothy, a Knight of the Round Table.”

Chapter Text

a White Lotus Story and an Epilogue

Willow Daheed closed her spellbook, set it aside, and stood from her chair in the small library. Through the walls of the cloister where she and the others were staying, she could hear the old paladin’s mild grumble raised in irritation. In the two months she had known him, the only thing that irritated him were the pair of elemental monks they’d picked up on their way to this troubled little hamlet of Inkewell. She imagined there would be a ruckus next and she wasn’t interested in hanging around for a ruckus.

Willow had garnered a reputation with the White Lotus Council of Arcane Developments. She had created a variety of spells from Fuse Forms to Split Form, Quickpack to Helping Hand, Elemental Blast to Quickchange Talisman, some of which were useful, some of which solved problems, some of which were just unlike anything the Council had seen before. So, when the city council of Inkwell had informed the White Lotus elders of “their little undead situation”, someone on the Council of Arcane Development had suggested Willow’s penchant for creating new spells might be a way to solve the problem.

They hadn’t sent her on her own, of course, but had assigned her protection. The first was a grizzled old paladin of Mount Holy Divine, with pale skin and fine white hair, who communicated more in bass grunts and flat looks than actual words. The others were a pair of monks from the Monastery of Elemental Mastery. The boys fought and teased like adolescent lovers. Onella, in his orange robes, was a caldumancer, able to access and channel energy from the elemental plane of heat. Talish, in greenish blue, was a limumancer, channeling energy from the elemental plane of slime.

The paladin was a martial paragon wielding sword, shield, and armor with such practiced skill he made it seem rote. The man could channel limited energy from the positive energy plane to harm undead or heal the living. The elemental monks, while they didn’t have the paladin’s expertise, more than made up for it with enthusiasm and raw power. Neither heat nor slime was specifically effective against undead, but enough heat could burn rotting flesh and dissipate ectoplasm while slime could be shaped into any useful form: blades, rams, walls and so on.

The variety of undead, from ghosts and zombies to vampires and wights to ghouls and specters were no match for those three. Willow should have been happy to have them.

Instead she found their presence irritating.

The grumbling turned into a ruckus, as predicted. Willow left the small library and headed down the hall for the door, irritated with the distraction, biting her tongue on a caustic remark. She was sick of those two boys arguing with each other, and sick of the paternal attitude the paladin had taken with them. It grated at the inside of her skull and she had to get out of there.

“But he started it!”

Willow recognized the plaintive voice of Onella, the cauldumancer. Willow knew the objection would do him no good and a few moments later the boy squawked. She could imagine how he flailed as the gruff, old paladin took the young monk over his knee. Only moments later, the sound of a heavy spanking filled the small cloister.

Willow pushed her way outside.

The city of Inkwell was small by White Lotus standards. Still, it had cobbled streets and a large town hall and a sturdy stone church. Some of the smaller homes were still thatched, but most buildings were roofed in clay shingles. The city filled most of its little vale in the foothills of the Nayathan mountain range. To the north of the city, the broad, slow, Black Lotus River wound through the foothills making small lakes here and there where the valleys were deep enough. Upriver, in the wild Nayathan range, the Black Lotus River spilled over, around, and past Mount St. Fawkes, a grumbly volcano with a perpetual cloud of ash hanging about.

Much of the ash made its way into the Black Lotus River. Harvesting the mix of silt, clay, and ash from riverbanks and lakebeds produced some of the finest ink in the world, vital to the White Lotus because it absorbed magic easily, allowing for writing of spellbooks. It was the primary financial force of Inkwell.

Willow had gone through pots and pots of the ink herself.

The sturdy stone church and adjoining cloister stood on the east end of town and wasn’t far from the surrounding hills. Willow made her way to the newly constructed gate on the east side of town. The gate was rude and constructed of fresh wood. It was only temporary. When he wasn’t disciplining the monk boys, the old paladin was overseeing construction of defensive structure to encircle the city. The people of Inkwell were busy hauling and shaping stone for a more permanent structure.

Once out of town, Willow followed a well-worn path switching up the side of a hillock overlooking the city. She made her way to the trunk of a broad, leafy tree that provided welcome shade from the midsummer sun. Even though it was early, just past breakfast, the sun was already plenty warm.

It was fortunate this sudden outbreak of undead had come at the height of summer. Long, hot days and short, mild nights made for less time that the undead could menace Inkwell.

But it wouldn’t be enough.

Even with every able-bodied adult taking a shift as guardsfolk, even pouring all their resources into building walls, even with the help of the paladin and the monks, it was getting harder for Inkwell to keep up. Each night, more and more undead menaced the city of Inkwell.

She sat on the soft grass and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. Willow had spent two weeks in Inkwell, two weeks on the problem, and had no solution. Only a bigger problem. Willow didn’t think she could handle this on her own and she didn’t think there was time to call for support from the White Lotus. She’d sent them a letter, but Inkwell needed a solution now.

On an excursion to the south, where most of the undead seemed to originate, a few local trackers had taken them to a place devoid of life, both plant and animal, where the earth was cracked and dusty, where the air smelled dead. The trackers took them to an abandoned copper mine. A few basic divination spells told her the old mine was pulsing with infernal energy.

It was a hellmouth.

Dor drifted aimlessly through L-Space clad only in her pale yellow Hufflepuff nightie. It was light upon her shoulders and loose about her hips leaving much of her legs and all of her arms bare to the quiet, comfortable air of the book-lined passageways. She had no particular destination, no particular purpose, only to let her mind wander, or, perhaps, to wander through her mind.

She paused when the mood took her and skimmed titles on bookspines nearest her: The Toadstool-Koopa Wars, A Rhapsody for Bohemia, The Wheel of Time. She felt at peace with the return of Excalibur and Ravenclaw’s Diadem to their homeplanes. And though the weight of the rest of the artifacts held in her grimoire still pressed upon her mind, she knew, now, how to right Mr. Quillon’s irresponsible wrong.

And she felt up to the task.

She wandered on, paused to peruse a few more (The Lion and the Five Deadly Serpents, Lives of Unforgetting, Flying the Heart of the Lafayette Escadrille) and wandered on again.

She came upon one in particular that caught her attention. The cover was pale lavender with a stark, white flower stamped upon the spine. She pulled it from the shelf and opened it: A Cosmology of Lotusvale and its Elemental Planes.

The book tugged at her, insistent, but not demanding, and a corridor unfolded before her, the book-packed shelves making way and leading to a new place. Dor closed the book and tapped her chin thoughtfully, then nodded and followed the path.

She stepped onto a grassy hillock under a shady tree to find a young woman in a plain, worn dress spotted with ink. She had pale grey eyes and dark brown skin and springy black hair.

“Hello,” said Dor gently, trying not to startle the woman. “I was wandering around the library and felt a… pull.”

Willow straightened, startled, but the girl obviously wasn’t undead, so she relaxed again. She supposed the girl must be a citizen of Inkwell. But then why was she dressed in only a nightgown and why had she mentioned the library? Distracted from her train of thought, again, Willow frowned at the girl.  

Dor swallowed and put her hands behind her back, but she didn’t cringe. “My name is Dorothy. I’m a planeswalker. I was in L-Space when I was tugged this way. I got the impression someone here wanted my attention. If I’ve bothered you…”

“A planeswalker? Are you a mage?”

Dor nodded.

“And you felt my need.”

Dor bit her lower lip and shrugged. “I suppose so. I’m still fairly new to all this.”

“Well, unless you’re an expert at crafting new spells, I’m not sure you’ll be of much help to me.”

Dor found herself smiling. “I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I’ve got seventeen spells in my mental grimoire.”

Willow was impressed. This girl seemed quite young to have developed seventeen spells. Perhaps she could help after all. In the next moment, Willow found the words spilling from her.

“Inkwell is plagued by a hellmouth excreting undead. I’m supposed to do something about it. I’ve come up with dozens of spells over the years, but I have no idea what I could come up with that will outlast a hellmouth.” Willow looked at her lap, embarrassed.

Dor sucked at her lips for several moments. On the one hand, there was nothing holding her here, to this place or this plane of existence. On the other, Willow’s need had pulled her here and she wanted to help.

“May I sit with you?” Dor asked.

Willow shrugged and gestured. Dor sat on the grass, smoothing her Hufflepuff nightie under her backside. They were the only two on the hill, so she didn’t worry about being immodest. She stretched her legs and pointed her toes and crossed her ankles.

“If you don’t mind, could we start at the beginning?” Dor asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s a hellmouth?”

Willow chuckled. “I thought you said you were familiar with the planes. A planeswalker?”

“I’m familiar with some of them.”

“All right. Fair enough. A hellmouth is any portal to the Infernal Plane. This one seems connected specifically to a region of necromantic energy, summoning and creating zombies and ghosts and any variation thereof.”

Dor shivered. She’d yet to encounter such creatures on her planeswalking. “All right. What does it take to close a hellmouth?”

“Elemental portals are fickle things, but the Infernal Plane in particular hungers for those of us born to the Prime Material plane, so it tends to be harder to get rid of. A dedicated priest with items infused with energy from the Celestial Plane, daily applications of holy water, that sort of thing, can contain the energies of a hellmouth and eventually close it. But I’m not a priest. We haven’t got a priest of that caliber with us. And the undead are getting stronger. We need something soon.”

“So it won’t be as simple as finding and casting the right enchantment.”

 “I’ve tried that, but the opposing magics wear at each other, and since the hellmouth is a portal and an enchantment is finite, the hellmouth wins out.”

“You need something to anchor this celestial energy to,” Dor said, thinking out loud. “Something that won’t wear away. Which is why you said you need help from someone who can create spells.”

Willow nodded. “I’m pretty good at it, but usually I’m working in a library, in my own practice room. Developing a new spell requires months of research at least.”

“Not for me it doesn’t.”

Willow gave her a skeptical look.

“I’m being serious. I’m still new at it, still figuring it out, but my magic depends upon observing others. Sometimes it takes weeks of training and observation, but sometimes I’ll see something and develop a spell instantaneously.” Dor looked into her mindpocket, took hold of her grimoire, and pulled it out.

“When I develop a spell, it comes easiest if my mind, body, and emotions are united somehow.” She opened the book to reveal plastic, nine-pocket pages, each pocket holding a playing card. She withdrew [Minwu’s Cura] and handed it to Willow.

Willow took the card. The first thing she noticed was the weight, not that the card was heavy, but that it was more than it seemed, like looking at the surface of the ocean on a clear, calm day. It might appear nothing more than a blue reflection, but it was wide and deep and could change in an instant. The art of the card depicted a serene, pink-haired woman in white robes. The writing was in a language she didn’t know, but looking at it was like reading an entire spell’s background and theory all at once.

Willow closed her eyes and looked away, fearing a headache. She handed the card back. “That’s impressive, but I don’t know if it helps.”

“You said you’ve developed all kinds of spells. Maybe working together, I can help you make it faster.”

Again, Willow was skeptical.

“What spell would you write to fix this problem, given all the time and resources you need?” Dor prompted.

“Like you said, something to anchor the celestial energies. But something not easily worn away. Something that’s tough and can repair itself.

Dor put her grimoire back in her mindpocket, pulled her knees to her chest, and pushed back against the tree, letting the rough bark press through her nightie, considering.

“But even then,” Willow continued, “It would have to be something I could fill with the energy, somehow. A receptacle.”

Dor looked up into the summer canopy of the tree. She smiled at what seemed like too simple an answer.

“How about a tree?”

Willow followed Dor’s gaze and felt a faint smile twitch at her lips. “A tree. Hmm… how would that work? But there are no trees about the hellmouth, the infernal energy has killed all life nearby. But… Hmm…”

An idea sparked in Dor’s thoughts, taking a slow, careful form. Her grimoire fluttered open in her mindpocket. An empty, grey-scale card flickered onto the pages.

“You’d have to grow the tree,” Dor said. “You’d have to plant it and grow it with magic. It’d have to be fully grown, so it’d be tough. And it’d have to be made from celestial energy, so it could counter the hellmouth.”

Willow gasped with sudden excitement. She grabbed Dor’s shoulder as possibilities scattered through her mind, organizing and reorganizing, moving faster than she could articulate. “We have to expand the scope. I mean, the spell’s scope. Not just celestial. Any seed. Any tree. I mean for this, yes, celestial, but the spell: anything.”

Dor nodded. “I see. An anything tree, as it were.”

They grinned at each other; then Willow frowned.

“This is an extraordinarily ambitious spell. It’ll take research, preparation, testing and retesting.”

But Dor could see color easing into the border of the empty playing card in her mind. She could hear the clacking of type at the edge of hearing. She could feel the tingle of power along her shoulders and knew if she could just focus, just align her thoughts and emotions, she could make this happen. She’d managed it with Twilight Sparkle in the Everfree Forest, she should be able to do it again.

“May I have permission to use telepathy with you?” Dor asked.

Willow’s concentration faltered. “You’re a psionicist too?”

Dor shook her head. “I’ve trained with one, though, and have a spell. You?”

Willow nodded. “I’m a mage, monk, and psionicist, but not terribly good at any of the three. Still, it’s a rare combination and has served me well in developing spells.” She shifted and sat up straight, folding her legs over each other in lotus position.

Dor mimicked the woman as best she could. She reached into her mindpocket, put her finger on [Jean’s Telepathy], and cast the spell.

Their minds reached for each other gently, carefully, tentatively. They had only just met, after all, and though their shared enthusiasm for the creation of a brand-new spell pushed at them eagerly, both were shy of strangers.

From Willow, Dor got a sense of study, knowledge, and experience. Willow had dedicated her life to studying all forms of aetheric manipulation: from arcane manipulation of unaligned elemental energies to the divine channeling of moral and chaotic energies to the flow of chi within a body to the disciplined mind effecting the physical.

From Dor, Willow got the sense of a deep well of potential, a struggle to align body, mind, and soul, a trio of philosophies that, should she manage it, would allow her to grasp the greatest powers in this universe and any other. Willow sensed Dor’s uncertainty. It was a familiar feeling.

Most importantly to the task at hand, Willow could see the blank playing card slowly gaining a golden hue about its edges. Dor had developed a remarkable shortcut to the meticulous research of background, philosophy, and context Willow engaged to create spells. Everything from the color of the border, to the vocabulary and templateing, to the art, accomplished on a playing card what Willow did on page after page of careful writing.

“It just… came to me,” Dor said, apologetic.

“Don’t apologize. This is a gift. I only ask that you strive to use it well.”

Willow did not have a mindpocket like Dor did. Even so, her thoughts were practiced, organized. She already had a-dozen-and-a-half ideas for how the spell would work.

“Somehow, we’ve got to get all that…” Dor gestured telepathically at Willow’s ideas.

Willow nodded and gestured at Dor’s playing card. “...into that.”

Dor couldn’t help but think on the spells she’d created. They’d almost all been built upon observing someone else.

“That’s not a negative,” said Willow. 

“I feel like a cheater,” said Dor. 

“The distillation of complex aetheric formulae is a rare skill. Can you do it on purpose?”

But they both knew the answer. She had, but only rarely, when at focused peace or furious distress. Each other time seemed to have been accidental. Which was frustrating to the point of distraction.

“We could address that, given time. You struggle to align three forces: white, blue, and red. The white and blue, though with differences, are allied. But the red opposes them both. You could seek to excise the red. It would hurt but then you’d be aligned. Or you could find common ground. The white is your center; the blue is your mind; the red is your passion. I think you fear that passion. Embrace it or remove it. Either will help you find clarity. But do not sit in indecision.”

The realization passed from Willow to Dor in a moment. Most distressingly was that she would be unable to help Willow create this spell on purpose if she couldn’t get herself aligned.

“How did you do it on purpose before?”

Willow’s thought prompted Dor’s memories. Dor tried very hard not to think of being spanked. She remembered the relative ease of [Dor’s Mindpocket], the week of training for [Kya’s Waterbending], the careful meditation of [Rainbow’s Dash]. 

“But one was personal and the others you were with someone you love. We’ve only just met.”

Willow’s frank insight startled Dor. The thoughts she tried to hide exploded from her: Sister Mary Margaret spanking her until she teleported, Master Finnaolin threatening her until she transformed into a dragon, Starswirl the Bearded spanking her until she developed telepathy.

“I see. Very well.”

“Wait,” said Dor. But even as she hesitated, she knew she’d allow herself to be spanked if it meant she could help. Willow stood and raised a hand to the tree above. She spoke a quick chant and green energy coalesced in the shape of a hand to pluck a thin branch, a switch, from the tree, quickly stripping it of extraneous twigs and leaves. Dor felt like her middle had gone hollow. She tried to swallow and found her mouth dry. She had willingly submitted to spankings before, but that didn’t make this any easier.

As her magic worked, Willow pulled her dress over her head. Underneath, she wore a simple, grey shift. It, too, was ink spotted, and Willow pulled that off next, leaving her bare but for a pair of simple drawers, like Dor had worn at St. Bridget’s. Stunned, Dor stared. Willow was smoothly muscled and attractive if the situation hadn’t been so sudden. Dor blushed and knew she couldn’t hide her thoughts.

“I’ve never done this before, but I gather you’ll need to be thorough and rhythmic.” Willow held the newly prepared switch out to Dor.

Numb, Dor took the switch. “You’ve never been spanked?”

Willow laughed. “No, no. I’ve been spanked. A lot. But not in an attempt to induce spontaneous spell creation while telepathically connected to an interdimensional wizard I’ve only just met.”

Willow stood before Dor, eyes bright with excitement. Her dark, springy hair swayed in a gentle breeze. Behind her, clouds built against the peaks of a distant mountain range.

“Remember, we’re trying to align your thoughts and emotions. My guess is spanking works because it’s so overwhelming to mind, body, and soul. Keep your mind tied to mine.”

Dor looked at the switch in her hand, then held it out to Willow. “I should be the one…”

Willow shook her head. “I’m not a terribly powerful psionicist, but I am practiced. I saw what it was like to grow up for you. You’ve got a… complicated relationship with corporal punishment. I’m not going to ask you to go through that for our sake.” She grimaced. “Not that I’m especially excited to, but sometimes expediency is important.”

Willow conjured a thick-legged stool, and Dor sat. Willow untied her drawers, let them fall, and arranged herself over Dor’s lap, her naked torso against Dor’s bare thighs. Dor put the palm of her left hand on Willow’s back and gripped the switch tight with her right.

The switch cut through the air. Dor’s arms shivered. The wood bit into Willow’s bare backside, the woman’s dark skin showing a thin pale line for a moment. Willow grunted. A cool zephyr blew over their little hillock, rustling the leaves of the tree and promising a hint of rain. Dor raised the switch again.

With their minds connected, Dor winced and tensed even as it was she who brought the switch down with a swip. Dor gave a breathy little gasp even as it was Willow’s bottom that felt the sting. Dor felt her heartbeat increasing, thumping in her throat as she raised the switch again.

This wasn’t like spanking Kya. She’d spanked Kya for lying to her, for putting them in danger without consent. Spanking Kya had been done with excitement and love and frustration. This wasn’t like spanking Ben. She’d spanked Ben for misusing his powers, for harassing his cousin. Spanking Ben had been done with righteous fury tempered by uncertainty. Nor was it like spanking the dragon boys, a pair of spoiled, if goodhearted, children.

This was an attempt to create an experience to achieve an end. So she kept her movements rhythmic and her mind tied to Willow’s and tried to empty herself of anything resembling fear or doubt, so the tingling power could fill her.

A flash of light flickered just outside her field of vision on the storm clouds in the distance. In the shade of their tree, the vanguard tendrils of the coming storm were like icy fingers even in the building summer morning.

The swip-bite, swip-bite, swip-bite of the switch marched stripes down Willow’s naked bottom building…

building…

       building…

…a pressure in their collective chest. The card in their mind changed from grey to gold. In the upper right of the card, a familiar alabaster sunburst shimmered into existence. And next to it, another symbol, an emerald tree, flowered into being. It was a symbol not present on any of her other spells. There was a disconcordant moment when Dor tried to pull away from the unfamiliar magic and Willow tried to embrace it. Then the switch landed and they were in the moment again.

Thunder rumbled far distant, but rolling closer.

A title appeared in the top left of the golden playing card in her mind:  Anything Tree. And with the title, the pressure in their chest released, flooding through them in a gasping wave. She let it, accepting the shuddering tears, the burning pain, the gasps for breath, alternately summer hot and rainstorm cold.

A depiction of a tree grew in the center of the playing card: a thick-trunked tree with dark green foliage and rough bark. It was unclear what kind of tree it was, but that was the point. This spell could grow from any seed and would stand patiently against whatever might push against it.

Anything Tree

Cost:     1GGW

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Tree

Text:     Exile a non-creature, non-planeswalker permanent in your hand, on your battlefield, or in your graveyard.

Create an Anything Tree, a 0/X Tree creature token with defender (it can’t attack). The Anything Tree’s toughness is equal to the exiled permanent’s converted mana cost. It has all the colors and rules text of the exiled permanent.

The green symbols in the upper right were strange to her, but not off-putting. Initially, Dor had feared the red spells of Elmira Gulch, but had come to understand them as resonating with passion and emotion. This, though, she didn’t understand, and she rolled the idea of green magic in her mind like an unfamiliar food.

Dor felt a smattering of rain on one arm.

Willow pushed to her feet, wiping away tears with one hand and rubbing at her backside with the other. Her eyes were wide and her smile broad, even though Dor knew her backside was a stinging fire.

“It worked,” Willow said, stunned and distracted, like she was reading pages and pages of notes all at once.

“Thank goodness,” said Dor.

“This… yes, this could work. We just need a seed.” Willow grasped Dor’s hand. “You’re… you’re amazing. Come on.”

They hurried down the hill even as dark stormclouds boiled overhead, churning and folding, lightning dancing through their crenellations. Thunder grumbled insistently. By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, rain fell gently about them, spattering on grass and filling the air with its smell.

The people of Inkwell stared at them as they passed, the eccentric mage woman of the White Lotus, ostensibly sent to help them with their problem, and a girl they’d never seen before, dashing about like madchildren. They stared until the two were lost around the corners of the city, and returned to work. At least the cool of the rain was better than the pounding heat of summer, and the wall certainly wasn’t going to build itself.

By the time Willow and Dor approached the cloister off the church, the rain pounded at them and they were thoroughly soaked, still buzzing with the excitement of success and a pressure to take all the next steps at once.

When they burst into the front room of the cloister, they found the old paladin sitting upon a cushioned, leather chair by the window, reading from a little, leather-bound book. Onella, the monk boy in orange sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Talish, the monk boy in teal. Talish sat upon a simple stool and ran a comb through Onella’s hair. Dor realized she knew these three because she was still connected to Willow through [Jean’s Telepathy]. The men looked up at two of them, startled, and that’s when Dor realized she was still clad in nothing but her Hufflepuff nightie, and Willow was without clothes entirely. Their shared excitement had blinded them to all else.

Dor blushed and let the telepathy drop. She called upon [Dor’s Mindpocket] and dressed in an instant in her Hogwartian uniform, complete with vest and tie.

Willow seemed unconcerned with her nakedness. She pointed at the paladin. “I need runes of warding, light, and positive energy. As many as you know and in every translation you can think of.”

The paladin nodded without hesitation. He stood and went down the hallway to the library.

Willow pointed at the monk boys. “Go find Nun Doyle. We need her most powerful holy objects, preferable silver. And if one of them is a cup, that would be ideal. The boys blinked at her, uncertain, and Willow clapped her hands sharply. “Now!” The boys scrambled to obey.

The storm settled over Inkwell for the night. It made things difficult on the guardsfolk serving a shift at the makeshift and incomplete walls of the city. But Nun Doyle had put out word that the spellmaker of the White Lotus had come up with a solution, that they had to hold on for just one more night, so there were many in the city who volunteered for an extra shift. They held back the zombies and slayed the vampires and dispersed the ghosts with their silver weapons, their simple incantations, their candle lanterns enhanced with silver mirrors.

In the little cloister off the church, Willow directed the creation of the seed for the very first Anything Tree. Nun Doyle had provided a silver flask. It was a pentagonal prism, about the size of a melon, made from silver and set with pearl, sapphire, jet, ruby, and emerald. The top fluted into a thick neck in which could be screwed a cap in the shape of a thick ring. It had to be the gaudiest, most expensive item in all of Inkwell, an otherwise grey and staid sort of town. It was a flask for creating holy water, Nun Doyle had explained. Filling it to the brim with any sort of liquid would infuse that liquid with positive celestial energy. She was happy to donate it to the cause.

Willow directed Onella to channel his heat finely so as to impress celestial words for protection and light and life, line after line, into each of the five silver faces of the flask. The paladin provided each line, each word, each character from books he pulled from the cloister’s library. And when they were finished, Talish pulled at the elemental plane of ooze and produced a thin, gentle stream to pour into the flask. It was a thick, translucent gel with a pale teal sheen and smelled faintly of succulents. Once the flask was full, it glowed with gentle, holy light.

 When morning came, the storm had passed, washing away the grit and dust of summer, the ashy taste of a distant volcano, the stink and itch of undead. The guardsfolk of Inkwell and their volunteers had held back the night. There were several injuries, a smattering of them serious, but no one had died.

The paladin carried the silver flask, flanked by Onella and Talish, the boys thick with pride. Willow trailed behind, muttering to herself and flicking her fingers as though she held a sheaf of papers. Dor walked next to her. When Willow suddenly stopped, expression uncertain, Dor put a hand on her shoulder.

“It will work,” Dor said.

“What if it doesn’t? I haven’t done any tests.”

“I’ve got the spell too. We’ve got more than one try.” She gave her grimoire a mental tap.

Willow smiled. They’d met only yesterday morning, but already they’d shared more than most.

As they walked from the church to the south gate, they collected a gathering. Guardsfolk, exhausted from the night’s fighting, children exhausted from fearful sleep, people of all stripes and kinds curious at what the representatives of the White Lotus had come up with, hopeful but cautious. And by the time they left the city they had a sizeable following.

The hellmouth was a dark hole in a dead landscape. A stinking cold breeze emanated it, like breath from the backend of a skunk long dead. Dor felt the infernal energy itching along her skin. The group stopped, and all eyes were on Willow.

Willow swallowed hard.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Dor asked. 

Willow’s jaw set, but she nodded.

Together, they approached the hellmouth until they stood just outside it. The line between the summer morning and the dark of the cave was stark, like a solid thing.

“Right here,” Willow said. She dropped to her knees.

Dor did the same. “Shall I…”

Willow nodded, so Dor pulled her wand from its sheath at her belt and cast [Pince’s Catalogue] to order her thoughts, then [Jean’s Telepathy] to connect hers to Willow’s. They felt the paladin approach, carrying the flask in both hands, the elemental monks flanking him. Willow pointed and the paladin set the silver flask between them, then retreated, giving them space. Willow and Dor breathed for several moments before Willow began to chant. It was a careful chant of steady, inevitable growth, of stalwart harmony, of unshakable purpose.

Dor felt the tingle along her shoulders, the sun on her back, and the harmony of the chant. At its conclusion, the grimoire shuffled open in her mind and [Anything Tree] shone bright. She let the power tingle down her arm to her wand and channeled it through the spell.

The silver flask pushed into the dead earth.

For several moments, it must have seemed to anyone watching that nothing had happened. But Willow and Dor could feel the rapid growth of the seed as it shifted and split, sending roots deep, seeking the living soil beneath this dead crust, sending shoots up, seeking the sun. When it broke through, it was a silvery stick, little more than a branch, but as soon as the roots stretched beyond the dead earth, found purchase in the soil of the foothills, the tree grew so rapidly Willow and Dor had to scramble out of the way.

The trunk was roughly pentagonal, with smooth, silvery bark, crenelated with what might have been holy symbols or might have been happenstance. It was thicker around than even the paladin could have encircled with his arms and twice as tall as the church. Its limbs spread in a wide canopy of five distinct parts, but intertwined. Its lowest limbs were thick and inviting and Dor felt an urge to climb into it. The leaves were so vibrant as to be startling. They were green, as expected, but also white and blue and red and even black. It was a sturdy tree within moments and a bulwark within minutes and half an hour later, it was an arboreal titan exuding an aura protection and light and life, holy sap beading upon its leaftips.

Just past the tree’s trunk, the dark of the hellmouth was barely visible.

Dor and Willow sat under the tree they’d grown with their jointly created spell, meditating in unison, aided by telepathy and careful breathing. The cave beyond the tree was still dark and dank and musty, but it no longer exuded infernal menace. The earth under the tree’s canopy wasn’t so dry and cracked.

They weren’t the only visitors to the tree; others sat here and there in quiet contemplation. Nun Doyle had declared the tree a holy site and visiting it had become a kind of pilgrimage. Dor had grown up in a religious orphanage. She’d read the bible and been spanked for daring to believe in anything else. She hadn’t thought much on religion since leaving. She half expected to have no patience for it, but found she didn’t mind what little she’d seen of the White Lotus style of faith.

“Your understanding of magic divides the multiverse into five distinct philosophies,” Willow said, voice quiet under the gentle susurrus of the tree’s multicolored canopy. Another summer storm grumbled from the south, making its way through the wild Nayathan mountain range, stirring up Mount St. Fawkes, and promising heavy rain.

Dor knew the tree would protect all under its canopy from the storm.

“And yet,” Willow continued, “each of those five is part of a greater whole. I think the solution to your inability to purposely create spells is dependent upon your lack of integration. Earlier I recommended you seek to excise or embrace the red aspect, now I think you would be best served to understand and integrate all five colors.”

Dor let the words wash over her, dancing through her thoughts, kissing at her skin, tingling at her shoulders.

The back of each playing card in her grimoire featured a leather-brown field emblazoned with five colored orbs like the points of a pentagon: white at the apex and, moving clockwise, blue, black, red, and green. White resonated with her as naturally as breathing, blue was a simple thought and red she was growing accustomed to. But green felt foreign, like an unfamiliar taste, and black made her itch.

“It won’t be easy,” Willow conceded. “It may well be the work of a lifetime. You know where you’re comfortable, and that’s fine, but if you want to master your power, if you want to master yourself, you must understand the whole.”

They breathed together. The scent of thick mountain summer rain filled the air. Some hurried to return to the city of Inkwell and the sheltering roofs it provided, but Dor and Willow stayed. A few droplets plopped to the earth at the edges of the canopy’s reach.

Chapter Text

Dor had done the math and then done it again.

She’d tumbled off the roof of St. Bridget’s orphanage a week and a half into April, which was nearly three weeks after her thirteenth birthday. After a week with Minwu, another two with the Chens, and three months at Hogwarts, that should have put her into August as time was reckoned in her own world. Then, after escaping Mr. Quillon, she’d spent two months at Xavier’s Institute, another two with the Chens and another one in a time-stretched Everfree Forest, which got her to mid January. After recovering at Camelot for a week and a half, that put her just a month away from March 30^th, 1909 – her fourteenth birthday. Dor was half tempted to visit St. Bridget’s and confirm the date, but the thought of returning to that building, of seeing Sister Mary Margaret, put a paralyzing fear in her chest even after all she’d experienced.

Since her first tumble into the multiverse, Dor had been given so much, from love and acceptance to meals and gifts, and she decided that, for her birthday, she wanted to give something in return.

In her mindpocket, Dor sat at her table and drew up a list, then walked out into L-Space. She cast [Pince’s Catalogue] to order her thoughts, then [Jean’s Telepathy] to cast her mind wide. She was looking for a marketplace, preferably somewhere she could purchase something for everyone on her list. Surely such a place must exist in the infinite Multiverse. She stretched her arms out to either side so the tips of her fingers brushed the bookspines on either side, thoughts tingling along every book that ever had, would, or could be written. It was too much for a single mind to contain, so she let it pass through her, keeping a third eye out for…

Dor stepped up to a city of market stalls and knew she was in a place called the Bazaar of Baghdad[1]. The name of the place echoed in her mind and she got a sense of its nature, of a thousand-fold doorway overlapping upon the market, a place not unlike L-Space where wandering from stall to alleyway, merchant to shop, restaurant to booth might allow even the most mundane of travelers to get a sampling of the Multiverse. It seemed to Dor that the marketplace was the world and the world was the marketplace, the Bazaar of Baghdad was a place in between and unto itself. It was exactly what she was looking for.

Dor stepped from L-Space onto a street next to a side-walk display of paperback books.

The city she found herself in was more like Republic City than New York City but wasn’t really like either. There were all different kinds of buildings jammed together: brick façade and shingles by woodbeam and riverstones by mudstone and canvas. Brightly painted doors and garish awnings lined the street. Draperies and curtains fluttered from windows and over streets. The air was filled with shouts and song, calls and conversation, the aroma of baking breads and simmering stews. Booths were set up on the sidewalks to either side of the broad, flagstone streets filled with people.

If the buildings were eclectic, the people were even more so. There were humans of varying shapes and colors, but also elves and dwarves, centaurs and beastfolk. Dor had gotten used to seeing non-human folks in Ivalice and both Ioearth and Equestria hadn’t had humans at all, but seeing such a variety so easily mixed took several moments to get used to.

“Ah, miss, you have excellent taste. Thrilling tales of adventure, love, and terror penned by authors from across the Multiverse.”

Dor blinked away from the street around her to find a scruffy man with thin glasses far down his nose. He was thin with dark skin and a bright green vest over a loose white buttonup. He smiled at her, small and genuine. Dor looked at the books to find faded, creased paperback covers with titles like: Doctor Odd on the Island of Death, The Hellcat and the Teacher’s Pet, Sinful Sisters and the Swamp Man. The covers depicted men and women in various states of undress and peril.

Dor raised an eyebrow at the man. 

“Or perhaps your tastes run to the more literary?” he maintained his little smile.

“Perhaps,” said Dor. “But maybe you can help me first. I’m not from around here, and I doubt my currency is local.”

The man nodded. “My name is Cyrus Minhaj. My brother, Darius, is a moneychanger. His office is two blocks down under the sign of the scales.” He dropped the smile and his expression turned serious. “You are new to the Bazaar, so I should warn you that everyone here is looking for the best deal. Commerce is a game and money tallies the score. The Bazaar takes money so seriously it will not allow theft or cheating, only bargaining. The moneychangers, they are a public service, almost like a clergy in other worlds.”

“You’re saying your brother won’t cheat me?”

He nodded solemnly.

“But everyone else will?”

He chuckled and his smile returned. “There are many here who bargain hard. Always remember you are under no obligation to accept a deal, only to uphold one freely made.”

“Thank you, Mr. Minhaj.” Dor said. “And I promise I’ll come back and look at your books.”

The man held up a hand. “Be careful with those words here. Promises have a way of being binding.”

The moneychanger’s building was simple stone foundation and unadorned wooden beams. The inside was plaster walls painted a soft grey. The symbol of the scales was white on black. Everything about the building was simple and clean.

Dor approached the counter as a man emerged from an adjoining room. The moneychanger looked very much like the bookseller, thin, dark skin, and a long nose upon which perched thin glasses. But whereas the bookseller had been a bit scruffy, this man was clean-shaven and crisply-attired.

“Good morning, miss, and welcome. You are new to the Bazaar, yes?”

Dor nodded. “How can you tell?”

He shrugged. “I’ve done this for many years. I am Darius Minhaj, chief moneychanger for this district. Please, what currency do you wish to exchange?”

Dor presented her paper currency and Mr. Minhaj made a curious, interested sound. “You wish to change all of it?” he asked.

Dor nodded. She hadn’t much used money in her travels and this was the first opportunity she’d had to spend it on something meaningful.

Mr. Minhaj withdrew a simple copper plate from under the counter, sorted and stacked the bills neatly, and set them upon the plate. The plate hummed gently.

“Not insignificant,” he said with a small nod. Then he withdrew a notebook of thick, faintly blue paper, and a thin, long stemmed pencil, and began to figure numbers, occasionally thumbing through the currency. Dor kept quiet and watched him work.

Finally, he withdrew a strongbox, unlocked it, and withdrew several stacks of coins in copper, silver, and gold. Mostly gold. And a few platinum. He counted out the coins, arranging them into neat stacks. When Dor showed interest, he handed her one of each to examine and explained the exchange rate.

“One hundred copper to a silver, fifty silver to a gold, and five gold to a platinum.”

The coins were fascinating. Shiny, new, and neatly stamped, each coin was marked with a set of scales on one side and a bust on the other. The copper coins were equilateral triangles, the silver were square, the gold were pentagons and the platinum were hexagons. At each corner, the coins were marked with a small bump on one side and socket on the other, so when stacked they fitted neatly into each other.

When Mr. Minhaj was done, Dor deposited the coins into her mindpocket, stacked upon the table in the room in her mind: 10 platinum pieces, 320 gold, 160 silver, and 95 copper.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Mr. Minhaj asked. “The Bazaar can be an overwhelming experience for those who are new.”

Dor considered, then said, “Your brother said the Bazaar won’t allow theft or cheating. What does that mean? How does the Bazaar enforce the rule?”

“The Bazaar of Baghdad was created by a council of magi who had very clear ideas about fairness. Mercantilism is a competition and coinage is the score. Theft is punished by the Bazaar itself with a string of bad luck that only gets worse until the thief pays for or returns what was stolen. And lest you get any ideas about escaping across the Multiverse,” he looked at her over his glasses, “the curse acts quickly and will follow wherever you go.”

Dor blushed and nodded. “Yes sir. Thank you for your time.”

Varied aromas filled the air. Some were thick and spicy, some mellow and subtle, some fruity and flowery. And many of them were delicious. Dor bought a burrito from a small boy at a food stall. She’d never had a burrito before. It was cooked beans, eggs, and peppers wrapped in a thin white bread. It was spicy without being overwhelming and she decided she liked it.

She was thinking about her list, thinking about what gifts her friends across the Multiverse might enjoy, when a sign caught her attention. It depicted a simple rectangle with a triangle folded over the top third, the point of the triangle marked with a bright red circle. Dor recognized it immediately as a folded envelope and was intrigued.

It was a little shop with shelves on every wall and a quartet of writing desks pushed together. A moogle looked up from where she worked at one of them. She was short and white-furred with triangular, cat-like ears and a pink, cat-like nose. An antenna like hair grew from the top of her head and fell down her back where it was topped with a red-furred sphere. She looked rather like Mogven, who Dor had treated in in Minwu’s ward, though Dor was certain there were subtleties to the moogle’s appearance she missed.

The moogle stood upon the stool she’d sat upon and smiled. She wore a simple blue dress under a leather apron festooned with pouches, pockets, and buttons.

“Hello, and welcome to the Multiversal Postoffice. I’m Post, the Mailmoogle. Are you here to send a letter to another plane of existence?” Her voice was high-pitched and quickly enunciated.

Dor hadn’t had any idea such a thing was possible, but now that she’d been asked the question, she nodded. “Yes, please.”

The moogle, Post she’d called herself, lifted from the stool she stood upon, the small, bat-like wings upon her back fluttering. “Kupo. That’s simply wonderful. I had thought setting up shop here, in the Bazaar, was a surefire thing, but I’ve had precious few customers so far. Well, kupo… I’ve had zero customers so far. But you’re here now. My name is Post. What’s yours?”

“I’m Dorothy. You can call me Dor.”

“You are welcome to use any one of our desks if you don’t have your letter or letters written already. Or if you ready to send a letter, I’ll just need to create a stamp before I can deliver it. Did you…” she paused in her rapid speech. “You did bring something from the plane of reciept that I can use to make a stamp, didn’t you?”

“That depends upon what you need.”

“Anything will do,” said Post. “So long as it resonates with the plane.”

Dor considered. She had her wand from Hogwarts and clothes from Xavier’s, but her grimoire, and the playing cards within, was the obvious answer. She had a spell from nearly every place she’d been to and any for which she didn’t she could visit. “Yes,” she said. “I believe I’ve got just the thing.”

Dor took one of the desks and availed herself of the letter writing kit set upon it. In her head, she ran though a list of people who might be interested in an update of what she’d been doing or who she’d like to correspond with and was pleasantly surprised by how many she could think of.

Her Majesty Queen Guinevere of Camelot,

To Rose Quartz and Pearl, Beach City

Willow Daheed of the White Lotus,

Mr. Max Tennyson and his grandchildren,

Bryllyance Majyst and Ignatius Krull,

She briefly outlined her adventures and asked after their own. She described the places she had seen and the people she had met and the food she’d eaten. 

Madam Pince, Hogwarts Librarian,

Jubilation Lee of Xavier’s Institute

To the Chen Family, Republic City,

Twilight Sparkle, Ponyville,

To the Ornitier Family at Mysidia,

She assured them all she would make time to visit and asked if there was any time that might be more or less convenient. She wished them well and invited them to write back if they so desired. When she was done, Dor had a neat stack of letters. At Post’s direction, she addressed the envelopes with the name or names of the recipients and their locations as far as she knew.

“A properly done stamp will help enormously with the delivery,” Post explained.

Dor folded her letters and put each carefully in to their corresponding envelopes.

“I think I’ll want to send letters often,” Dor said. “Will I need to visit here every time I do so? And what about receiving letters?”

Post perked up, smiling so wide her black eyes shone and her scarlet pompom quivered. “I can set you up with a post box to receive letters, so long as you provide your correspondent with a pre-stamped envelope. And, if you like, I can sell you a postal kit. It will include a set of stamps, stamp wax, pen, ink, pre-folded envelopes, and letter-writing paper.”

Dor nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I think I’d like that. But first, can you show me how it works?”

Post opened a trunk at the bottom of one of the side shelves to reveal stacks of wooden handles with brass stamps at the end. She showed Dor the stamps were smooth. “But they’ll change with a resonating item and little magic.”

Dor selected the envelope addressed to the Ornitiers and handed it to Post who examined the writing, then flipped it over.

“You have excellent penmanship, Ms. Dorothy.”

Dor grinned.

“Now for the item, please.”

Dor reached into her mindpocket, opened her grimoire, and withdrew Minwu’s Cura.

“Touch it to the brass end of the stamp, please,” said Post. “I need concentration for this part.” The moogle held the stamp toward Dor and closed her eyes. Dor did as she was told, touching the playing card to the smooth, brass cylinder at the end of the polished wooden handle.

There was a tickle of magic, and the brass shifted into a complex pattern of circles and hexagons, careful and complex. Each plane of existence required its own stamp, plus one for return letters. Post heated crimson sealing wax and poured a dollop to seal the envelop, the pressed the brass stamp into the warm wax to mark it. It was two copper per letter and one gold for the postal kit, which allowed her to keep the stamps she’d marked so she could seal the envelopes herself and drop them in her newly rented postal box to be picked up.

Dor was feeling rather pleased with herself when she had a sudden thought. There was one other person who might be wondering what had happened to her in the last year. Sister Mary Margaret was, ostensibly, responsible for the orphans at St. Bridget’s. Even if she thought Dor was possessed by the Devil and had meant to chase her from the premises, Dor felt she should let the Sister know she was unharmed. In fact, the more she thought on it, the more Dor liked the idea. Sister Mary Margaret had spanked Dor every time she thought Dor had strayed too far into worlds of imagination. Now Dor knew those worlds were real.

“I think I’ll write one more, if that’s all right,” Dor said.

Post gestured at the small shop, empty but for them. “Certainly.”

Chapter Text

Mr. Cyrus Minhaj, the bookseller, invited her into the stacks at the back of the store. The aisles were narrow and the books dusty. “There’s no organization system back here,” he said. “That’s how it was when I took over ownership. I’ve been trying to rectify the matter ever since.”

Dor stopped to examine a bright yellow bookspine that caught her attention. Mr. Minhaj continued to wander down the aisle, still talking.

“I wonder if there’s something about the Bazaar that prevents their arrangement. It seems every time I come back here, books have shifted about. Thank goodness the front half of the shop stays organized.”

“I have a spell,” Dor said, putting the book back absently. “It organizes thoughts, but it works on books too. I could try it if you like.”

Mr. Minhaj poked his head around the corner of a bookshelf to look back at her. “I would very much enjoy seeing that.”

Dor walked to the end of the aisle then turned to look down it. She drew her wand and opened her grimoire and took a slow, deep breath.

“Catalog Cogitatus.”

A ripple of blue energy flowed down the narrow aisle. The books on either side of the aisle slid and floated, shifted and fluttered, moving gently upon the magic. Within moments, the books were organized by author name. A haze of displaced book dust clouded the aisle. Dor waved a hand in front of her face and took a step back to avoid inhaling.

“That is one of the most useful spells I’ve ever seen. I will pay you twenty gold to do that to the rest of the stacks.” Mr. Minhaj’s voice was careful and precise and just a touch breathless.

Over the next hour or so, Dor and Mr. Minhaj experimented with the spell. They found she could cast the spell on as few as two books and as many as a fifteen-foot aisle of six-foot-tall shelves facing each other. She could organize by subject, title, author, size, color, interest, vocabulary, and complexity.

Mr. Minhaj wanted the books organized by subject matter, then author, then title. Dor had to cast the spell first just to figure out what was in a section, then haul books from one aisle to another and cast it again to get them organized. Often, they’d have to move another set of stacks to a different aisle as they uncovered more books on theoretical aetheric transmutation than Mr. Minhaj thought he had, for example.

They were looking over their work, Dor feeling particularly accomplished, when a slim volume with a pale blue cover caught her attention. Flipping through it, she found images of people moving through careful stances. The images were simple, more suggestions of figures than fully realized, made with flowing, calligraphic strokes. The figures were rendered in black ink, but a flowing blue line accompanied each, and Dor was certain she recognized waterbending.

“Mr. Minhaj? How much for this book?”

The bookseller glanced at the book and shook his head. “It’s yours, Ms. Dorothy. A gift. Come with me to the front, and I’ll pay you.”

Dor arrived at the Chen’s home midmorning. She stepped from the small bookshelf in the main room to the sounds and smells of the Chen family preparing for the lunch crowd. Hoping she hadn’t overstepped herself, Dor slipped into the kitchen and took her place next to Kya. She took up a cutting board and a knife and started chopping the long-stemmed garlic Kya had set out. 

Kya gave a small start, then smiled, then gave Dor a quick peck on the cheek.

Dor blushed.

“Good morning, Dorothy,” said Mrs. Chen. 

Dor looked over at Kya’s mother, hands on hips, spatula in hand, lips pursed.

“Um, good morning.”

“It’s good to see you,” the matriarch said before returning to the pan she was tending.

Mr. Chen stepped from his spot so he could lean down and plant a soft kiss atop her head. “We got your letter. That was sweet of you.”

Dor blushed furiously and blinked away tears as she cut the garlic.

At the end of the day, after a savory dinner of roast duck, noodle soup, and rice with turmeric curry, Dor reached into her mindpocket. 

“It’s my birthday soon,” Dor said into the quiet. “I’ll be fourteen years old. So I decided, because I’ve made so many friends who’ve given me so much, that I would bring you all presents.”

The Chens looked at her curiously.

“You bring others gifts for your birthday?” Kya asked.

Dor nodded. “It’s a new tradition.” She withdrew a trio of parcels and handed them around. For Mr. Chen, she’d found a new carving knife. Large and heavy, it was meant to separate meat from bone. For Mrs. Chen, she’d found a new tea set, including kettle, strainer, and four mugs. And for Kya the small, blue-bound book from Mr. Minhaj’s bookshop. Dor watched as Kya opened the book, her expression shifting from puzzled to stunned.

“This is a book of waterbending forms,” Kya said softly.

Mrs. Chen pursed her lips then gave a small sigh. Kya didn’t notice.

“Dor, this is incredible.” Kya looked up with tears shining in her eyes. “Where did you find something like this?”

“In a bookstore.” Dor gave a brief explanation of the Bazaar.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” She blinked quickly and wiped tears from her cheeks, then hugged Dor firmly and kissed her cheek.

In the morning, Mrs. Chen allowed them to forego helping prep for the lunch crowd so Kya could practice with the forms depicted in her new book. Dor stood next to Kya and went through the movements with her. She let Kya lead the practice and correct her when her stance was off. And when they could complete a form without error, they did it again with water. Dor did her best, but her waterbending enchantment, while versatile, wasn’t up to the more advanced techniques, especially when it came to freezing and vaporizing water.

When Kya was ready, they sparred.

Dor moved into a waterbending stance, just as Kya had taught her. She pulled at the magic tingling along her skin and pushed it through the spell, allowing the enchantment of [Kya’s Waterbending] to settle upon her. She could feel the water in the small bathhouse on the other side of the courtyard, in the kitchen on the far side of the house, in the small tub just behind her and to the side.

They jabbed at each other for a while, flicking ribbons of water this way and that. Dor felt herself working up a sweat, her muscles sliding and bunching and snapping as she struck and blocked and counterstruck. Then Kya took a deep breath and when she let it out, a freezing mist crept up the water Dor bent, making it solid and dropping it to the courtyard flagstones.

Dor gasped and stumbled back.

Kya grinned at her. “Why don’t you use some of your other tricks?”

So she did, teleporting and shooting sparks and disarming Kya of her water. She chose not to wield fire nor to change shape into either petrosapien or dragon, as both options seemed a bit much for the domestic courtyard. They worked each other to deep breaths and heaving chests and sweat-soaked clothes. Afterward, they sat in the small bathhouse, still and quiet, only the occasional drip plinking through the room.

Chapter Text

Mr. Minhaj directed her to Mrs. Kouri, his cousin. Mrs. Kouri was a mother of five, and when Dor explained she was looking for a gift for a new mother, the large woman nodded sagely.

“Is she breastfeeding?”

Dor nodded. “Twins.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Kouri put a hand to her chest. “Beautiful. But also painful. Here.” She selected a plain ruddy jar from a shelf behind her. “This will help sooth the ache. Also, you might consider a bottle of wine.” She pointed at a booth cattycorner. “My friend there has reasonable prices.”

Dor stepped from L-Space to the library in the Academy at Mysida. She was glad when her searching through L-Space had not taken her directly to the Ornitier cottage. She still bushed thinking on what she’d accidently witnessed the last time.

She stepped into an aisle between bookshelves just as Minwu came around the corner. They bumped into each other and Dor stumbled back.

“Terribly sorry,” Minuw said, then straightened and smiled when she saw who it was. “Dorothy. You’re looking well.”

“You too,” said Dor.

Minwu wore her white robe with the red, triangle pattern upon its hem. Her bright pink hair was pulled into a thick braid. Her cheeks were rosy and her bright blue eyes sparkled.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Dor.

“Not at all. I just finished with class and was headed back to the cottage. Do you want to join us for luncheon?’

“Yes, please.” She let Minwu lead her through the library. “You’re teaching again?”

Minwu nodded. “There’s been a surge of military activity along the border. Rumor has it Duke Gesthal is preparing an effort against Mysidia. Mysidia has long been neutral in the War of the Lions. The Board of Education wants me teaching again, so we worked out a schedule where I teach in the morning and Li has the babies, and vice versa for the afternoon.” Dor felt a clench of fear at the idea of war coming to Mysidia. “But even if that happens, we’ll have plenty of warning first. No need to make trouble where there is none.”

They strolled across campus. Dor told Minwu what she’d been up to since last they’d talked, and Minwu told Dor that Jayce al’Caar, the distracted boy she’d taught to meditate several months ago, was asking after her.

Dor frowned. “Not interested.”

Minwu giggled.

At the cottage, they found Li working at the kitchen, stove hot, frying pan sizzling, the smell of eggs and butter permeating the air. The babies, Palom and Porum, lay on a rug, squirming and babbling to each other.

Li looked up when they came in. “My love! You’ve brought a guest. I hope you like eggs, Dor. It’s all I know how to make.” 

Lunch was scrambled eggs, buttered bread, and slices of tomato. Tea had been brewing in glass jars set in the window where the sunlight could get at them. Li reported to Minwu on what the babies had done, mostly squirm, babble, and excrete, but Minwu took it all in with delight. And when lunch was done, Dor cleared her throat and pulled a pair of parcels from her mindpocket.

“My birthday’s coming up. I’m turning fourteen, and I wanted to give presents to my friends.”

She handed one parcel to Li and one to Minwu.

“Hey, presents,” said Li. “What a pleasant surprise.” He opened the small box and the aroma of roasted coffee spilled forth. Li’s eyes went wide and he took a deep breath through his nose. “Oh, Dorothy, I… Thank you.” He withdrew three paper bags filled with whole bean coffee. Underneath the bags was a grinder of polished wood and steel. “Not that I don’t love tea.” He gave Minwu a wink and a grin.

Minwu rolled her eyes. She opened her box next to a faint medicinal aroma. She withdrew the pot first.

“It’s for chapped skin. In case breastfeeding the twins is hard on your nipples.” Dor said with a faint blush.

“Oh.” Minwu’s eyebrows went up. She pulled the lid off the pot and smelled the balm. “This is quite nice. There was a chemist I knew once who was good with lotions, but Mysidians put far more stock in magic than chemistry.” Next she withdrew the bottle of wine. It had a thick, heavy bottom and a long, fluted neck and was stoppered with cork. The woman who’d sold it to Dor had provided a corkscrew for only a copper more.

“And dessert for this evening,” Li said with a smile.

“Thank you, Dor,” said Minuw. “That was thoughtful of you.”

“I also brought something for the twins,” Dor said.

From her mindpocket, she pulled a pair of quilts. The merchant selling them had told her the patterns were called pinwheels. One was a field of white and pale grey squares decorated with red pinwheels, the other was black with blue pinwheels. The quilts were soft and smooth, substantial without being too thick. They were far too big for the babies, but she thought they could grow into them.

The quilts were tightly folded and each held with a simple ribbon. Minwu untied the white one and held it up. It was longer than she was tall and unfolded with a whump.

“This is remarkably well done. Where did you find them?”

Dor explained the Bazaar of Baghdad. “It’s where I found all the gifts.”

Li left to teach his classes. Dor did the dishes while Minwu fed the babies. Afterward, when the babies were in their basinets, Minwu applied the balm with a sigh of relief.

“I’m afraid I’ll go through the balm rather quickly, but appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I could get you more,” said Dor.

“No, no. I couldn’t ask you that.”

Dor shrugged. “I’m happy to. Except…” she blushed. “I don’t exactly have much money.”

Minwu looked thoughtful. “Well, if you don’t mind being my interdimensional go-between, perhaps I could send you with some money? I’m sure Li would appreciate more coffee now and again. Except, I don’t suppose this bazaar excepts interdimensional currency.”

“Actually, they do.”

Dor helped Minwu tidy up the cottage and play with the babies and tend the small vegetable garden out back. In the late afternoon, Li arrived bearing a trio of boxes with dinner from the Academy’s kitchens. Minwu fed the babies and Dor set the table while the parents burped the twins. When the babies were set upon their rug, the three of them enjoyed a quiet dinner.

“Do you want to open your present for a bit of dessert?” Li asked, eyeing the bottle of wine.

Minwu cleared her throat delicately, a faint blush climbing her cheeks. “As a matter of fact, I’d better not. For several months in fact.”

Dor blinked, confused, but Li’s eyes went wide.

“Again?” His face split into a wide grin.

Minwu smiled and blushed harder. She nodded. “I’m pregnant.”

Li leapt to his feet and took Minwu up in a joyous embrace.

Minwu invited Dor to stay for a few days and Dor accepted, helping them watch after the twins and put together meals and keep the cottage tidy.

Chapter Text

The Hogwarts library was dim, still, and silent. Dor couldn’t be certain, but she suspected it was summer vacation. She stepped from L-Space to Madam Pince’s office, and put a parcel upon the librarian’s desk. It was a copy of The Hobbit translated into Tolkien’s elvish. She also left a parcel for Aelf (a polished marble mortar and pestle) and Sandra (a muggle game called Settlers of Catan), along with a note to explain and a request to pass along the gifts. She hadn’t been able to find either of her Hufflepuff yearmates by wandering L-Space and assumed they were vacationing far from a library.

She had, however, got a sense for where Isabel was, and with her packages and note dropped off, she stepped back into L-Space.

 The next library Dor walked into was large and bright and airy. There were great windows in one wall and three stories of books, the upper levels accessed by a series of railed balconies. Everything was dark, polished wood and deep, thick rugs and careful, well-tended cataloguing. It was massive and beautiful, and Dor thought she must have planeswalked to the wrong place, that her focus upon Isabel Legrand had faltered and she’d trespassed upon a wealthy stranger’s library. But after a few moments more, she found Isabel sitting upon an armchair by one of the tall, narrow windows fitted with squares of leaded glass.

Isabel slouched in a large, pale green armchair, the soles of her bare feet pressed against a matching ottoman, her thin, cotton, sleeveless summerdress rumpled about her waist. 

Dor approached, her footfalls muffled by a thick rug. She cleared her throat, not wanting to startle the other girl. Nonetheless, Isabel leapt to her feet, snapping her book closed, and putting a hand to her chest. For a moment, she was backlit by the light coming in through the window, and Dor could see the shadow of her through the dress.

“Dor?”

“Hi. I hope, um, I’m not interrupting?”

Isabel grinned. “Not at all, it’s so good to see you.” She approached as though to hug her, then hesitated, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“May I give you a hug?” Dor asked, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks.

Isabel grinned. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, Dor.”

The girls hugged and Dor felt warmth in her chest, a tingle along her shoulders.

“How did you find me here?”

Dor explained L-Space.

“That’s amazing! You have to tell me everything you’ve done since Christmas.” Isabel gestured at the armchair facing hers, setting her book on a sidetable. They sat, and Dor told Isabel about her adventures in the Multiverse, trying not to blush at Isabel’s wide-eyed enthusiasm.

“You’re like a hero from a novel,” Isabel said.

Dor blushed harder. To change the subject, she asked after the others at Hogwarts.

“Sandra did well enough, even though she spends more time on chess and cards than studying. She could really do well if she applied herself. Aelf nailed potions and did well enough in everything else. Same for me except I aced Defense Against the Dark Arts. Dueling club thinned out after a bit. But those of us who stuck it out learned a lot.”

“Speaking of which,” said Dor, “I brought you something.” She pulled a plain wooden box from her mindpocket and held it out to Isabel. “My fourteenth birthday is soon. I wanted to give gifts to my friends. There’s a place called the Bazaar of Baghdad. I found this there. It’s supposed to be an amulet of protection. Since you want to be an auror, I thought it might do you some good.”

Isabel took the box gently and opened it. Within was a small, star-shaped charm, lacquered in bright yellow, hanging upon a silvery chain.

“The man who sold it to me signed a certificate of authenticity,” Dor said. “The Baazar won’t allow false contracts, so I hope that verifies its enchantment.”

Isabel held up the necklace. The yellow star charm twisted this way and that. “This is beautiful, Dor. Thank you.”

Dor blushed, uncertain what to say next. She looked about the giant library. “So, is this where you live?”

Isabel blushed, her cheeks growing dark. She cleared her throat delicately and looked away. “This is a public library, but technically it’s part of papa’s ancestral home, the Legrande Estate. As far as the muggles know, we’re part of France, and technically that’s how the area functions, but the wizards hereabout consider themselves subjects of the Legrande Coven, and papa is their prince.”

Dor’s eyes went wide. “Your father’s a prince? Does that mean you’re a princess?”

Isabel blushed darker. “Please don’t tell anyone. I do not need that getting around Hogwwarts. It’s hard enough being the only French-born kid at school.”

Dor nodded. “Of course.”

Isabel smiled at her. “So, um, do you want to stay for luncheon? Mama and papa are out for a few days, but I can ask Mrs. Potts about tea, if you like? But I suppose you’ll want to move on?”

“I don’t want to impose,” Dor said.

“Not at all. It can be a bit boring in this big house when mama and papa are out.”

The Legrande estate was a massive house, the kind Dor had read about in books. It was even bigger than Xavier’s Institute, though without the technological amenities of that world. Instead, it was replete with magical amenities Dor had grown used to after a few months living at Hogwarts, most notably the moving figures in portraits upon the wall. After winding through hallways at least as expansive as the Majyst home, they came to a large kitchen.

Mrs. Potts was a round woman with grey hair in a tight bun and bright, rosy cheeks. She spoke with a distinct British accent and invited them to “Pop on to the nook” while she made tea.

Isabel led Dor to a cozy nook in one corner where they could look out windows upon a garden while Mrs. Potts bustled about the kitchen. The nook housed a round table and three armless chairs. The space outside the window was filled with carefully placed garden beds each overflowing with plants. Dor recognized tomatoes and peas, but she didn’t know much about gardening. Nonetheless, she found it beautiful.

“Do you think you’ll come back to Hogwarts next school year?”

Dor pulled her gaze from the garden. Isabel looked out the window, shoulders hunched slightly.

“I, um, I’m not sure. I like it there. But I’ve got all the artifacts to return. Now that I’ve returned Excalibur, I feel more confident about my ability to return the others.” At their mention, the artifacts in her mental grimoire pulsed gently against her thoughts.

“Right.” Isabel nodded. “I was just curious.” She cleared her throat roughly.

“Isabel? Is something wrong?”

Isabel blinked at Dor, then looked away and shook her head. “No, no. I just, I was wondering if I could tell you something. A kind of secret.”

“Of course.”

Isabel cleared her throat, took a breath, but didn’t say anything.

Dor waited.

“I’ve never told anyone at Hogwarts. Not even Aelf and Sandra. You’re my… Aelf and Sandra are wonderful and I love them dearly, but…”

Isabel fell silent again. She kept her gaze out the window at the garden.

“Here you are, dears.” Mrs. Potts arrived with a silver tray upon which was a beautiful porcelain teapot with delicate designs in blue dancing upon its surface. There were a pair of cups and a small plate of thin cookies drizzled with chocolate. She set the tray upon their table with a fond smile and went back to puttering about the kitchen.

Isabel poured them both tea. It was hot, steam curling from the surface. Dor lifted it and took a breath. The tea smelled faintly fruity.

“When I was born, my parents named me Isaac,” Isabel said.

Dor hesitated, then set her tea upon the table and gave Isabel her full attention. Isabel still didn’t look at her.

“I’ve always known I was a girl,” Isabel said quietly. “My body just didn’t match.” She looked at her hands. “I’m lucky. My parents are supportive. There’s a spell. Not a lot of wizards know it and even fewer will cast it. Some think it’s unnatural, I guess.” Isabel stole a glance at Dor. Dor did her best to look supportive. “The spell transitions the person it’s cast upon, it shifts and balances hormones, it transfigures… body type. And it does a few other things I don’t really understand.”

Isabel cleared her throat and took a sip of tea. Dor followed suit.

“These cookies Mrs. Potts makes are quite good,” Isabel said, pushing the small plate toward Dor.

Dor took a cookie. The silence expanded like a slow, careful breath. She took a bite and waited for Isabel to continue. The cookie really was quite nice—crumbly and light, with a hint of chocolate that was sweet but not overpowering. 

“Anyway, a few months before I went to Hogwarts, my parents took me to a medical wizard. She did the spell and my body transitioned to match who I am.” She looked at Dor, eyes shining with unshed tears, and took a deep breath. This time she didn’t look away. 

Dor took a sip of tea to wash down the cookie. “I’m glad you were able to have the spell cast. Are you… do you feel all right?”

Isabel cleared her throat and wiped away a few tears. “Sure. It didn’t hurt, or anything.” She took a deep drink of her tea then poured herself another cup. She lifted the steaming drink to her nose and looked at Dor over it. “You don’t… you don’t think I’m… unnatural?”

Dor shook her head. “Not at all.”

Isabel cleared her throat again and several more tears spilled down her cheeks. “Thank you, Dorothy.”

They had their tea in silence for a while. Dor would have preferred coffee but decided the tea was nice is its own way. When they were finished, Mrs. Potts came and cleared away the dishes.

“I know you must be busy with your questing about the Multiverse, but would you care to stay for a few days? It’s been a bit lonely with mama and papa out.” Isabel looked at Dor hopefully.

Dor felt the weight of the artifacts in her grimoire and was eager to deliver gifts to her other friends, but agreed immediately.

Isabel showed her about the vast estate. Isabel and her parents only lived in a small portion of it. The rest was an historical site and open to the public. Isabel showed her to the east wing and the art museum and back to the library. Finally, she showed her to the dueling grounds, a wide, open area on the edge of the estate surrounded by a magical circle meant to protect participants and spectators alike.

“Care for a duel?” Isabel asked.

Dor grinned.

Chapter Text

Mr. Minhaj walked with her down a side street to a shop that specialized in paper, ink, and pens. “She makes the finest journals and I like to have a few in stock,” he’d explained when he invited her to join him.

The shop was a tiny space at the front of the building. The narrow street outside let in little light through the cramped, leaded windows. Only a plain, wooden counter separated the customer side from the owner. There were no wares on display. A dark curtain hung behind the counter and a rhythmic pounding sounded from beyond.

“Mrs. Leedy?” Mr. Minhaj raised his voice to call. The rhythmic pounding stopped.

“Cyrus?”

There was a scrape and a thump, then an awkward gait thumping on the floor. When the curtain was pulled aside, Dor was met with the thick, protruding snout and hunched, stocky form of a nu’mou. Mrs. Leedy had fine, grey fur and long, drooping ears. Her gait suggested a deformity Dor couldn’t make out beneath the robes.

Mrs. Leedy looked from Mr. Minhaj to Dor, giving the girl a long look with her wide, dark eyes.

Some of Minwu’s students at Mysidia had been nu’mou, but Dor hadn’t had much interaction with them. She nodded politely at the woman. Mrs. Leedy returned her gaze to Mr. Minhaj.

“You’re here for the journals, I take it?”

Mr. Minhaj nodded. “And my young friend here would like to make a purchase as well.”

Mrs. Leedy looked at Dor again. “You’ve the dust of nonexistent books upon you.”

Dor cleared her throat in surprise. “Um. Yes ma’am?”

“What could one such as yourself want with a humble bookbinder?”

Dor very much doubted that Mrs. Leedy was a ‘humble’ anything, but didn’t say so. “I’d like to purchase a gift for a dear friend. I thought perhaps a nice pen and some paper.”

“Tell me about your friend,” Mrs. Leedy said.

“Her name is Twilight. She’s a unicorn from a plane called Equestria. She’s a librarian and a mage. She loves to read. She’s smart and adventurous and kind…”

Mrs. Leedy nodded and held up a hand. “Wait here.” She pushed past the curtain, granting them a brief look at a well-lit workshop with a trio of printing presses in back and a tidy workbench in the middle and all manner of books in the process of being bound, before the curtain swished closed. 

When Mrs. Leedy returned, she carried a pair of paper wrapped bundles.

Dor stepped from L-Space into Golden Oak library at Ponyville. There were a few patrons, ponies of a variety of color, and they looked up in surprise when Dor stepped from bookshelf. One of them snorted in surprise.

“Oh. Um. Hi,” said Dor.

“How did you…” said a stocky yellow pony with a mint green mane.

“What are…” said a slim pegasus with silvery eyes and a ruddy coat.

The patrons all edged away from her.

Dor looked about for a familiar face. “Twilight? Spike? Are you here?”

“Ms. Dorothy? Is that you?”

Dor was relieved to hear Spike’s voice as he came around the bookshelf she’d just exited. The diminutive purple dragon looked up at her with a smile.

“Are you looking for Twilight? She should be back any minute.”

Dor nodded. “I am. But I also wanted to see you, Spike.”

The dragon cocked his head. Dor reached into her mindpocket and withdrew a small canvas bag with an assortment of small, uncut precious stones she’d picked up in the Bazaar. Spike’s eyes widened and he gasped.

“I wanted to thank you for all your help when I was here last.”

“Me? But I didn’t do anything special.”

“You most certainly did. I don’t know how we would have managed without you there to make a pot of tea a just the right moment. There are lots of ways to help, Spike. And I really appreciate what you did.” She handed the bag out to him. “

“For… for me?” His voice squeaked and he blushed. He took the bag carefully, hefted it, and looked inside. “Ms. Dorothy, I… are you sure?”

Dor nodded. Rarity had told her, in passing, that dragons adored gemstones. There were all manner of jewelers throughout the Bazaar of Baghdad and though precious stones weren’t cheap, neither were they prohibitively expensive given how many merchants dealt in them.

“Thank you.” He gently put one of his clawed hands into the bag and withdrew a pebble-sized ruby. It was uncut and unpolished, but held a deep hue and a rough beauty. Spike held the up to the light to get a good look at it, then popped it into his mouth with a crunch.

Dor bit her tongue on her surprise.

When Twilight arrived, she and Dor sat at the library’s front desk. Dor explained about her coming birthday and the Bazaar and retrieved the brown-paper wrapped bundle Mrs. Leedy had sold her. Dor was excited to see what was within. She hadn’t unwrapped it to see for herself.

Twilight took hold of the package with her purple-hued magic and unwrapped it with careful, precise movements. The paper fell open to reveal a leather-bound book and a small wooden box. Twilight opened the book first. The cover was smooth and pliable and smelled of a fragrant oil. The pages were thick and smooth with flecks of pale purple flower petals throughout. She opened the box next to reveal a long, slim, glass pen. The handle of the pen was a fluted, triple helix dyed lavender fading to rose. An inkwell accompanied the pen.

“Dorothy, this is beautiful,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Thank you so much.”

Dor blushed.

“You know,” said Twilight, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. You and your grimoire. I’ve been thinking I might like to try my hand at creating spells, like you do. This journal will be perfect for it.”

Dor blushed deeper.

“I’m free for the rest of the day,” Twilight Sparkle said. “If you have time to stay for a few days… would you like to talk with me about spell creation?”

“Of course,” said Dor, her skin tingling, mana pulsing along her shoulders. “I’d be delighted.”

Chapter Text

Dor hesitated at the edge between L-Space and the Xavier Institute. She felt a thought, a presence, a pressure, between here and there. It wasn’t malevolent or even aggressive, just curious. Dor tapped at [Jean’s Telepathy] and felt her mind open. She kept ahold of it, not wanting it to spill forth, but loosely, lest she squeeze her thoughts into the Multiverse.

The curious presence resolved into the mind of Professor Charles Xavier, and for a moment, Dor could see into the vast, well-ordered mind of the patron of the X-Men, before that door closed gently, but firmly.

“Sorry, Professor,” Dor said.

“Ms. Dorothy. It’s a pleasure to see you again. If I may ask, have you developed psionic powers?”

“Not exactly.” Dor pulled her grimoire through L-Space, opened it to the appropriate page, and showed the Professor [Jean’s Telepathy]. Though he was only a voice in her mind, she knew he could see it and seemed suitably impressed.

“Well now. Remarkable.”

“Professor, I was hoping to see my friends. May I enter?”

“Of course. I believe dinner is quite nearly ready.”

The cafeteria at Xavier’s Institute was a large hall with several large, round tables at which sat the Institute’s students, each with a plate piled high with a variety of food. It wasn’t the vast splendor of Hogwarts, but it was quite nearly close.

Scott Summers noticed her first as she loitered in the doorway, feeling uncertain. He smiled and waved her in, nodding in the direction of a table where Jubilee, Doreen, and Kitty all sat with a few of the others. Jubilee hopped up when she saw her.

“Nice timing, Dor. How’s the Multiverse?”

“Vast. May I join you?”

Dinner with the students at Xavier’s Institute was boisterous. There was an adjoining dining room for the adult staff, near enough just in case, but the cafeteria was overseen by Jean Grey and Scott Summers. Occasionally, Scott would call for them to all settle down and mostly he was obeyed. There was a brief scuffle between Kurt and Rhane at the next table, but Scott got between them. After a stern look, the two apologized and dinner resumed.

“You’d think they were in love with they they’re always fighting,” Doreen said with a snicker.

“They might be,” said Kitty, voice light with amusement. “I’ve seen Rhane tugging on Kurt’s tail now and again.”

Doreen grumbled. “Anyone who tugs on my tail gets the teeth.” She bared her large, buck teeth and the girls all giggled.

After dinner was movie night. Dor cuddled on the couch with the other students. Jubilee ended up on the floor in front of her and about halfway through a story about a young woman and her diary, Dor found herself idly combing her fingers through the hair at the nape of Jubilee’s neck. She stopped when she realized what she was doing. Jubilee sighed and leaned back into Dor gently.

Finally, they were all chivvied off to bed by Jean and Scott. Dor made her way up to the girls’ dorms with the others. Jean stood at the top of the stairs, making sure everyone was accounted for and Dor was pleased to see she looked well.

“Good to see you, Dorothy,” Jean said.

“You too.” Dor nearly stopped in the hall to give Jean the present she’d gotten her, but decided to wait until morning, hoping to catch her when there wasn’t such an audience.

Jubilee changed into her sleepwear: a loose white t-shirt and a pair of bright pink shorts. Dor tried not to take too much interest in Jubilee changing clothes. She reminded herself she had an enthusiastic partner in Kya Chen. But she couldn’t help but remember that Kya had encouraged her to pursue other partners if she was interested. Dor’s heart raced wondering if Jubilee would be interested.

Dor changed into her Hufflepuff nightie and soon there was a knock at the door to the bathroom they shared with Kitty and Doreen. The other girls entered, clad in their sleepwear. 

“It’s my birthday soon,” said Dor, and explained that she’d brought them presents. She pulled the parcels from L-Space and handed the around.

For Doreen, she’d brought a large, oval, wooden hairbrush with a thick back and a variety of bristles.

“It’s supposed to be good for getting tangles out of all kinds of hair and fur,” Dor said.

For Kitty, she’d brought a pair of soft halfboots. They were dyed a deep, midnight blue and reached halfway up the calf.

“Made from the felt of a diresheep,” Dor said. “They’re supposed to absorb the sound of footsteps.”

For Jubilee, she’d brought a battered old leather jacket. At first glance, it was dyed black, but at the creases and folds, there was an undercoat shade of yellow, almost gold. It was the darkest, deepest hue of yellow Dor had ever seen.

“I just thought it would look good on you,” Dor said.

Kitty pulled on her new boots and sighed at their softness. Doreen ran her new hairbrush through the fur of her tail and gave a little groan of happiness. Jubilee put her jacket and stood in front of the mirror on the dormroom door to admire herself. The jacket fell below the hem of her shorts, so when viewed from behind Dor could imagine the other girl wore only the jacket. The realization made her cheeks burn.

“It’s too bad we don’t have anything for you,” said Jubilee, turning around.

“You know what we could give her?” Doreen slapped the back of her hairbrush into her palm with a wide grin.

Kitty gasped. “Birthday spankings!” she squealed.

“Oh, um, maybe…” Dor’s heart sped and her ears burned. She scrambled to her feet, but was grasped around the middle from behind by Jubilee.

Kitty and Doreen advanced upon her, and Dor knew a moment of panic as she feared her friends were about to beat her backside with that giant hairbrush. But then she saw the merry glint in their eyes, the gentle smiles upon their lips, and knew it was all in good fun. They wrestled her to her bed, Jubilee sat, and they forced her down over Jubilee’s bare thighs. In the process, Dor’s nightie rose to over her hips, leaving her black Hufflepuff panties exposed.  Dor put up only a token resistance.

Jubilee went first, a quick smattering of fourteen mild spanks that was over far too soon for Dor’s liking. Then came Kitty, precise and measured, seven to each cheek. Doreen was the most enthusiastic, and Dor squirmed as the stocky girl spanked her. The birthday spankings came in a rush of giggles and snorts, squirms and squeaks, and for several moments Dor thought it was over, laying limply over Jubilee’s lap, stretched out on the bed, feeling warm and quiet and stingy. 

Then Jubilee tensed. “And one to grow on!”

Dor squealed in anticipation just before Doreen’s hairbrush smacked into her panty-clad backside. Dor leapt to her feet and backed away from the three, rubbing her bottom through her nightie furiously shocked and gasping from the sudden wallop.

Jubilee bit her lip and blushed. “Too hard?”

Dor swallowed and chuckled. Her heart slowed to a regular rate. Even though it stung, she’d been more surprised than anything.

“I’m fine, but that one left a mark.”

“Really? Let me see.”

Before she could second-guess herself, Dor lifted her nightie, pulled her panties halfway down her thighs, and turned so the other three could see. She blushed at her own boldness.

“Wowiee,” said Doreen. 

“Oh dear,” said Kitty.

“Dorothy, I’m…” Jubilee touched the stinging welt left by the hairbrush.

Dor had a sudden, mischievous, idea. She pulled up her panties and turned to face them. “It's fine girls. I’ll just have to get a little revenge.” Dor touched [Twilight’s Blink] and, with a crack of magic, appeared behind Jubilee.

“Wait! No powers in the house!” Jubilee said, voice rising.

Dor landed a good three smacks to Jubilee’s backside, though the effect was muffled by the leather jacket hanging past her bottom. Jubilee jumped and danced away as Dor turned to the others. Kitty’s sheer nightie was no proof against Dor’s palm and she gasped at the trio of spanks before she remembered to phase. With a flick and a thought, Dor used [Harry’s Expelliarmus] to pull the hairbrush from Jubilee’s grasp, then teleported to snatch it up. 

Doreen had already raced through the connecting bathroom to the dormroom she shared with Kitty by the time Dor went for her. Doreen slammed the door, but Dor teleported behind her and landed a hefty three on her fur-padded bottom.

Doreen yowled and backed away. She held up a hand. “All right, mercy,” she said through a wince and a chuckle.

Dor went back through the bathroom to find Kitty and Jubilee wide-eyed and grinning. Dor fixed Jubilee with a stare. 

“Wait. Why are you looking at me? I already got mine!” said Jubilee.

Dor grinned. “Through the jacket doesn’t count.”

Kitty got out of the way as Jubilee backed up until she bumped into her bed and sat with a thump. Dor caught up to her and it was a brief grappling match until Dor could get the girl over her lap. Jubilee put up very little fight, even shifting so her jacket was out of the way. Dor gave her a crisp three smacks with a determined set to her jaw. When she was done, she expected Jubilee to hop to her feet, but for several moments she just lay there, as though waiting for more.

At a firm knock on the door, Jubilee scrambled to her feet and the four of them stood in a huddle, trying not to look guilty. 

“Girls?” It was Jean.

Jubilee cleared her throat and opened the door. Jean was clad in a pair of soft pink pajama pants and a white camisole Dor blushed hard.

“Is everything all right?” Jean asked, concern in her tone.

The girls nodded and made sounds of affirmation. Dor closed her eyes so she wouldn’t die of embarrassment. 

“All right. Well, settle down and get to bed, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dor squeaked. 

“Okay,” Kitty whispered.

When Jean was gone, they bid each other good night between snorts and giggles and turned the lights out.

Several minutes later, Dor lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jubilee asked into the quiet. “I forgot you have a bad history with spanking. I should have…” Jubilee trailed off.

Dor turned on her side to look at Jubilee through the dark. “I’m fine. It was just for fun. How about you?”

Jubilee cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.” For a moment, Dor thought she’d say more, but Jubilee fell silent.

Jean came to fetch Dor before breakfast. They stopped at the kitchen for coffee before heading for the Professor’s office.

“Am I in trouble?” Dor asked.

“Of course not,” said Jean. Then she gave Dor a funny look. “What were you four up to last night?”

“Just rough housing,” said Dor. Then she remembered Jean’s present. They were alone in the kitchen, so she pulled the small canvas bag from her mindpocket. “I got you something. For my birthday.” She explained and held out the bag.

Jean upended the bag into her hand and gasped at the coin sized sapphire. “Dor, this is… it's too much. I can’t accept it.”

“It wasn’t that much,” Dor said. “Apparently it’s common to use a gem as a psychic focus in some parts of the Multiverse.” Jean looked about to protest so Dor spoke quickly. “Please, I’ve never had friends to give gifts to before all this started.”

Jean considered for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Dorothy. It’s just, I’m going to ask you for a favor, and I don’t want to be greedy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I should let the Professor explain.”

They finished their coffee and made their way to the Professor’s office. The door stood open and the Professor sat in his wheelchair, in front of his desk, reading the morning newspaper. He looked up as they approached and waved them into his office.

“Good morning, ladies. Please, have a seat.”

There was a soft, dark upholstered couch on one side of the room and the girls sat side by side to face the Professor.

“Dorothy, as you know, Jean had a distressing experience a few months ago.” Dor felt Jean wince next to her. “Through some work in meditation, Jean and I believe the entity you two sensed was not external, but internal.”

Dor remembered the cold, malevolent stare of the great fiery bird and could not believe so callous a being could come from within Jean Grey.

The Professor nodded. “Agreed, Dorothy. But it is not uncommon for psionic gifts to come paired with cold logic. We are beings made up of balancing dichotomies. Logic and empathy can be at odds, but are better when balanced. At least, in my experience.” He gave them a warm smile. “As it turns out, Logan knows a man who has struggled with a similar…” The Professor paused, searching for the right word.

“Dark side,” Jean spoke up. 

The Professor sighed. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Because you’re kind,” said Jean. “But we both felt the way that phoenix entity looked at us, like we were less than worthless.” She turned her attention to Dor. “Wolverine knows a guy in Japan who’s dealt with something similar. He says this man could teach me to deal with it. But I… I don’t want to go alone. Scott offered to come along but I…” Jean blushed. “I’m not sure that’s a… a good idea.”

The Professor looked at Dor. “Dorothy, you have experience traveling to new places. I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you be willing to accompany Jean to meet with Logan’s friend for a few months?”

Dor was surprised, but more than that, she was honored. That Professor Xavier and Jean Grey would think to ask her for help was more than she’d ever expected.

“Of course. I’d be happy to.”

Chapter Text

Dor wandered aimlessly about the Bazaar of Baghdad. It had been just under a month since she’d found the peculiar plane. Now she waited for Professor Xavier to get in touch with friends in Japan in order to send her and Jean to school there for a time. They’d be set up as foreign exchange students and the Professor promised to have a friend work up a false background for her.

“I don’t think they would understand if we told them the whole truth,” the Professor had said. “We’ll have to give them most of the truth instead.” He’d told her it would take a week or so before she and Jean could be on their way.

Then he’d asked her what name he should put on her birth certificate.

“Oh, um… I don’t have a last name.”

“Then you can choose whatever you want. Do you want to take some time to think on it?”

The Professor’s tone was so patient and so kind she quite nearly broke down in tears. Now she wandered the Bazaar, trying to focus on the question. Something to do with five to match the five colors on the back of her spells? Something to do with planeswalking? Something to do with doorways, or books, or playing cards? Nothing seemed right. She decided she’d just go with “Orphan” if she could think if nothing else,

The prospect of living with Jean Grey for a semester was enough to put butterflies in her tummy. The prospect of choosing her own last name made her shoulders itch. She needed to clear her head, so she’d ‘walked to the streets of the Bazaar with no plan in particular.

She allowed herself to roam, browsing the colorful stalls, peering through shop-front windows, and allowing whim to guide her windingway through the patchwork cacophony of the Bazaar. She had some money left, but wasn’t looking to buy anything in particular. Instead, it was soothing to just wander, knowing that even if she got lost, she could step to her mindpocket with a thought and be in the company of friends with a simple stroll through L-Space.

She examined shovels and rakes and other tools for gardening. She wandered among boxes filled with cardboard sleeves protecting vinyal records. She was looking through a window at a display of polished rocks carved in the shapes of meticulously detailed creatures (dragons, cats, dolphins, unicorns, badgers…) when a delicious aroma caught her attention.

Looking around, she found an unassuming wooden door set into a stone wall. A pair of lanterns flanked the door and a wooden sign carved into the shape of a cat hung in the center of its upper panel. Below the carven cat was a sign: Western Restaurant Nekoya. She recognized the words weren’t in English. A bell tinkled when Dor pulled open the door. She felt the itching tingle across her shoulders that told her she was stepping from one plane to another, the same itch she’d felt on Equestria when a wood of the Wizarding World overlaid itself upon the Everfree Forest.

The room beyond was well-lit with electric lights; simple wooden tables and chairs were spaced evenly; everything was neat and orderly. It was at odds with the technological level of the Bazaar, more in line with what she’d expect at Xavier’s. The dining area was separated from the kitchen by a counter equipped with stools. Dor could hear the sounds of cooking on the other side. The savory smells she’d detected out in the Bazaar were stronger here.

Dor swallowed hard and took a slow breath. Her stomach rumbled.

A blonde girl came around the counter from the kitchen. She wore a black and white uniform and had a pair of dark horns curling from the sides of her head. She clasped her hands at her waist and bowed.

“Welcome! My name is Aletta. Have you been here before?” Dor shook her head. “Well, have a seat wherever you like, and I’ll bring you a menu.”

Dor took a table against the wall. The chair was simple, dark-stained wood with a thin cushion. The girl, Aletta, returned with a folded booklet, a glass of ice, and a pitcher of water with sliced lemons floating at the top.

“Lemon water is on the house. Can you read the Eastern continent’s language?” Aletta asked.

Dor nodded. “Probably.” She took the proffered booklet.

Food at St. Bridget’s had been perfunctory, but Dor’s adventures had given her the opportunity to taste all kinds of wonderful food from Hogwarts’ feasts to Phon’s pastries to the Chen’s restaurant. The menu was written in a language she didn’t recognize, but her planeswalker ability to adapt to the languages around her allowed her to read it with ease. The options were varied and each description was enticing. But there was one dish in particular that caught her attention: grilled cheese with tomato soup. The simplicity of it appealed to her.

“Hello, miss.”

Dor looked up to find a tall man with a black goatee dressed all in white, including a tall, white hat, standing nearby.

“You’re new here,” he said. “And if I’m not mistaken, you are not fromt eh world that usually appears at this time on the otherside of my door.”

Dor stood up beside the table and nodded to him. “Hello, sir. My name is Dorothy Alice Wendy. I’m a planeswalker. I was in the Bazaar of Baghdad when I smelled the food from your restaurant. I… I don’t know what kind of visitors you’re used to, but… I hope it’s all right that I’m here.”

The man blinked at her, then smiled. “Of course.” He bowed, much as Aletta had. “Today’s meal is on the house. Order whatever you like.” He returned to the kitchen and Aletta came to take her oder.

Dor returned her attention to the menu just long enough to confirm she really did want thte grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“Certainly,” Aletta said. “Thank you for your patience.” She bowed again and left.

Dor’s mind wandered as she waited, the sounds of cooking (chopping, sizzling, bubbling) a pleasant background to her thoughts. She tried to think about what was most important to her, what was endemic to her, what defined her. Surely whatever name she chose could be changed later, but she had a strong urge to get it right the first time.

“Dorothy Planeswalker,” she whispered, trying it out. “No, too obvious. Besides, there are lots of other planeswalkers. Dorothy Whitespell. Hmm, not bad, but I’m trying to broaden my colors, not restrict them. Dorothy of the Infinite Library…” She like that it related to her specifically, but it wasn’t a last name. Perhaps something to do with books, something only she could…

Aletta returned from the kitchen bearing a tray. “Take your time and enjoy,” she said, setting a plate and a bowl upon the table. 

The plate held two sandwiches. The bread was light and crisped to a toasty golden brown. The insides were a mix of cheeses, thick and oozing. The sandwiches had been cut diagonally, which Dor found inordinately pleasing. In an accompanying bowl was a hot, thick, creamy tomato soup sprinkled with pepper. 

Dor picked up one of the sandwiches and took a small bite. The immediate bliss of melted cheese coated her mouth even as the light, crisp, buttered bread provided perfect counterpoint. It was crunchy and soft, salty and mellow. She dipped her spoon in the tomato soup next. The soup was warm and thick and the perfect accompaniment to the grilled cheese. It was sweet and filling and had a delightfully subtle tangy-ness she hadn’t expected. 

Dor had tasted good food before, but there was something about this meal that was… more. Perhaps it was the simplicity. She took her time, relishing each bite, occasionally dipping her sandwich in the soup. Slowly, with each bite, each swallow, the hint of a tingle built at her shoulders. She tried not to focus on it, tried to focus on the tastes evoking bliss on her tongue. The tingle spread until it was that familiar magic across her shoulders, the hint of a spell waiting to be noticed.

She picked up the last corner of bread and used it to soak up the last bit of soup. She let her thoughts drift about the feeling, let her self become balanced, let the taste of the food shine from within. For a moment, the feeling slipped from her grasp and she sighed, disappointed.

She picked up her glass, and with the last swallow of cold water, just a hint of citrus, the perfect pallet cleanser, the magic spread across her shoulders and down her spine.

Her grimoire, the book she’d created with imagination and focus, flipped open upon the desk in her mindpocket. And there between [Minwu’s Lifa] and [Twilight’s Blink] was a new spell. It was a grey-scale playing card, a white border already bubbling upon it. In the same simple font as the menu, the title, type, and text filled the boxes. At the center of the art box was a spot of golden brown that soon resolved into an image of a simple meal: grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Tenshu’s Special

Cost:     2W

Type:    Tribal Sorcery – Chef

Text:     Choose up to three –

Untap target creature.

Put a +1/+1 counter on target creature or a loyalty counter on target planeswalker.

Create a food token. (It’s an artifact with “2, T, Sacrifice this artifact: You gain 3 life.”)

Willow had been right. She felt balanced in this moment, the simple delight of the meal had overwhelmed her momentarily and the magic had filled her and now she’d added another spell to her grimoire. And perhaps that was it. Perhaps that was the thing unique to her. Her grimoire. The repository of her magic. The store of her spells. 

“Dorothy Grimoire,” she whispered. And didn’t hate the sound of it. It was like a puzzle piece sliding home in that spark of light, that tickle of mana, that window to the Multiverse that was her planeswalking ability.

“Dorothy Alice Wendy Grimoire.”

Chapter Text

The sliding door of the dojo splintered as it slammed open. Dor’s meditation was interrupted. Her eyes snapped open and she was on her feet a moment later.

The dojo was a simple room with little adornment. It had high ceilings, padded floors, and small square windows making up the top quarter of the two outside walls. At the head of the room, where Ryu Sensei still knelt, was a simple white banner with four symbols: kanji. Though they weren’t in English, Dor could read them: wind, forest, fire, mountain.

At the door to Ryu Sensei’s dojo was a giant of a man. He wore only a pair of scarlet, lace-up boots and scarlet trunks, leaving the rest of his body bare, showing off a variety of scars and spectacular muscles. The man had a great, bristling brown beard, mohawk, and a thick patch of chest hair.

“Ryu! I found you. Why are you hiding in a school for children?” The large man didn’t shout, but his voice was bombastic nonetheless.

Dor took several steps back. Next to her, Jean put an arm out as though to protect her. The past two months, Dor and Jean had been enrolled in Tamagawa Minami High School in Japan specifically so Jean could study meditation under Ryu Sensei. There were lots of other students at the school, of course, and a few of them were even allowed to join the meditation class.

Sakura Kasugano was a girl about Dor’s age with short brown hair and brown eyes who was focused on her martial arts training to the detriment of her academics. Fortunately for her, her performance on the high school’s martial arts team seemed to grant her a lot of latitude. Sakura was star struck at having the opportunity to study under Ryu Sensei. Karin Kanzuki was a year older. She was paler than Sakura with bright blonde hair and pale, almost golden-brown eyes. She was at least as dedicated to her martial arts training as Sakura.

Karin and Sakura considered themselves rivals, and Karin had the habit of looking down her nose at anyone she deemed a commoner, but both inserted themselves between Dor and the giant man in the red trunks. Both shifted into fighting stances.

On the one hand, Dor was a bit perturbed to be thought so defenseless as to need protection. On the other hand, having her classmates put themselves between her and danger made her cheeks warm.

Dor looked to their teacher.

Ryu Sensei knelt at the front of the room, just in front of the banner, still meditating, just as though his dojo hadn’t been invaded by a shouting, hairy giant. The giant man entered the room, ducking to fit through the doorway.

“Zangief, now is not the time. There are children here.” Ryu Sensei opened his eyes and gestured at the four girls at the far end of the room.

The giant man, Zangief, looked at the girls, looked at Ryu, and shrugged. “They can watch. I do not mind.”

Dor knew the men spoke different languages. Ryu’s Japanese was measured but informal. Zangief’s language was guttural and rhythmic. Dor understood both perfectly and the men seemed to understand each other just fine.

Ryu Sensei stood smoothly. He was not a tall man, especially compared to Zangief, but he was solid, thickly muscled, and precise in his movements. He was a serious man without being strict, able to quell the bickering between Sakura and Karin with only a flat look. He turned that look on Zangief, but the giant man only grinned, spreading his arms and leaning forward, as though to grapple with their meditation teacher.

Dor summoned her wand with a thought, [Jubilee’s Dazzler] dancing at her fingertips. Next to her Jean stood tall and placed a careful hand to her temple. Before her, Sakura and Karin were on the balls of their feet, ready to turn their martial arts training upon this invader.

But Ryu Sensei held a hand out to them. “You are not ready for this confrontation. Do not interfere.”

Though Dor had fought off a paradox-eating library elemental and a dinosaur-riding invasion force, Ryu Sensei’s tone did not invite discussion and she wasn’t eager to get on his bad side. The four of them backed up as Ryu Sensei and the giant Zangief squared off.

There was a moment of calm, of quiet, of nothing, as though the men waited for some unknown signal. Dor tensed and thought her muscles might strain with it.

Zangief moved first, lunging at Ryu Sensei like a landslide. Ryu Sensei dodged past him, ducking under one of the man’s outstretched arms, rolling to his feet, and spinning about in a kick faster than Dor could follow. The kick would have caught Zangief low in the ribs, but the giant was faster than Dor expected, spinning about like a crimson cyclone, catching Ryu Sensei by the ankle and hurling him at the far wall. Ryu Sensei struck the wall back first and crashed through, wood splintering, plaster crushing, the windows in the wall above cracking and shattering and raining to the floor. 

Dor gasped and readied [Minwu’s Lifa], fearing the worst.

Zangief stepped through the hole in the wall and onto the grassy field beyond, on the edge of Tamagawa Minami High School. After several moments, the girls scrambled after. Ryu stood upon the grass, brushing debris from his frayed, white gi. He seemed unharmed and Dor let the power at her shoulders fade.

“Ha!” Zangief raised his fists in a gesture of victory. “Caught you that time, Ryu!” He stomped onto the field, the bright sun a contrast to the cool air of early spring.

The men faced each other again. Ryu’s gaze flickered to the girls, huddled just outside the hole his body had made in the wall.

“You’ve endangered my students, Zangief.” There was a hard edge to Ryu Sensei’s tone. Though the man was stoic and strict, Dor had never seen him angry.

“Eh?” Zangief looked at the girls. “Are you hurt?”

Sakura planted her fists on her hips in defiance. Karin snorted in derision. Jean stood tall and shook her head. For her part, Dor could only hunch nervously.

“See, Ryu? They are unhurt. Now, come. I’ve wrestled many bears in preparation for our rematch. I demand your best!”

Ryu Sensei took a slow, deep breath. Dor could almost hear the words he spoke at the beginning of every meditation lesson. “Kyosui no Hado, the power of nothingness, is to act free of fear, anger, pride, and ego, to draw upon the contents of one’s self without obstacle or hesitation, to be aware of the world, to flow with all of creation without worry, desire, or doubt.”

Professor Xavier had told Jean and Dor that Ryu Sensei was an old friend of Wolverine’s, that he was well-practiced at finding inner peace in opposition to inner darkness. In the two months Dor had meditated with the man, she’d never seen any sign he had a hint of darkness, only calm control. Now, as he faced Zangief, for a moment, she saw raw hatred pass over his face.

He took another slow, even breath and was settled again.

Ryu Sensei darted forth, but it was a feint. When Zangief swiped for him, Ryu Sensei was already dodging back and followed his feint with an attack. Zangief was off-balance and not fast enough to defend from the quick series of punches.

Dor’s experience with martial arts training was limited to Wolverine showing her how to use her petrosapien blades and waterbending with Kya. Ryu Sensei was a longtime practitioner of his art. His strikes were fast, efficient, and so well-practiced as to look effortless. In that moment, Dor knew he’d been right to tell them they weren’t ready for this confrontation.

Or at least she wasn’t. Sakura and Karin were avid martial artists and Jean’s telepathic powers were nothing short of incredible. Perhaps they’d have been able to stand against the man. Still, Zangief was barely fazed by Ryu Sensei’s flurry of attacks. As she watched the men trade blows, parries, feints, and blocks, Dor wondered if even shapeshifting into dragon would be enough to hold her own against either of them.

Ryu Sensei leapt back, higher and father than would have been possible for a normal man, and when he landed, blue light flickered at eyes and hands. He took a deep breath, pulling his hands to his side, as though pulling on a great spring and holding it there. All his muscles tensed, and the light coalesced into burning, sparking energy between his hands.

Dor felt that tingle of expansion in her mind. Her grimoire flipped open. A grey-scale playing card flickered into existence.

“Hadoken!” Ryu Sensi’s voice burst from his chest as he thrust his hands forward and the energy launched at Zangief. Dor could feel the energy of her magic tease about the edges of a potential spell.

Zangief reacted by backhanding the ball of energy, hand glowing, and the energy burst and fizzled. Dor’s potential spell fizzled alongside it.

“Shit,” Dor muttered, then blushed. She didn’t often curse and couldn’t help but feel like she was in for a spanking if anyone heard her. She almost wished it was true as spanking was, thus far, one of the only reliable ways to align her mind, body, and soul into creating a spell. Her thoughts flitted to Willow Daheed and her recommendation to embrace all five colors of magic.

The thoughts were dispelled as Zangief surged toward Ryu Sensei, spreading his arms wide and spinning about like the most improbable ballerina. Ryu was struck and fell back but pushed off the ground to flip backward and to his feet. As Zangief recovered from his spinning attack, Ryu Sensei launched his own, leaping into a spinning kick that knocked Zangief off his feet and into the air. Dor’s eyes went wide as Ryu Sensei crouched and leapt into a rising punch that took Zangief upon the jaw and sent him hurtling backward, tumbling over the grass like a rag doll.

For several moments, the only sound was the thudding of Dor’s heart in her ears. It had all been so fast, a great flurry of violence and counter-violence, a supremacy of martial skill, artistic and brutal and wonderful. Her mind buzzed, her shoulders tingled, and half-a-dozen potential spells teased at the edges of reality.

Zangief sat up and the girls gasped. He looked at Ryu, still standing at the ready, and laughed, a great booming sound that seemed to fill the outdoor field.

“Come, Ryu. Let us celebrate this fight with sake, yes?”

Jean and Dor walked home from school in stunned silence.

“Well. That was… exciting.” Jean said eventually.

Dor snorted a giggle and the two of them burst into gales of laughter for the last half-a-block to their shared apartment. Jean, not quite seventeen years old, was still a ward of Professor Xavier, but the Professor had arranged for them to live in the apartment on their own, near the school, but private.

“Do you want me to summon dinner this evening?” Dor asked as they entered their shared apartment.

“Absolutely. What do you think it will be this time?” Jean had been delighted when Dor had told her about [Tenshu’s Special]. The first time the spell had summoned an omelet with fried rice and topped with ketchup. Since then, they’d enjoyed a myriad of meals from spaghetti with meat sauce to minced meat cutlets to chicken curry.

Dor grinned and shrugged. “The surprise is part of the fun.”

The apartment had a kitchenette separated from the living room by a counter. There was also a single bedroom with attached bathroom. It was small but cozy and Dor had assured both the Professor and Jean that she didn’t at all mind sharing a bedroom.

“Why don’t you take the shower first? I’m going to call Scott.”

The time difference between Japan and New York meant it would be the wee hours of the morning back at Xavier’s Institute, but Jean and Scott spoke just about every day. Dor had been embarrassed at the twinge of jealousy the first time Jean had stayed up late to chat with Scott Summers. Jean was extraordinarily pretty and smart and confident, and Dor knew she had a crush on the older girl, a crush she’d done her best to ignore.

In the bathroom, Dor banished her school clothes to her mindpocket with a thought, then turned on the shower. Dor had grown used to life in this version of Earth with its technological amenities. Though she was no longer amazed at indoor plumbing, she didn’t think she’d ever be so used to it as to take it for granted. Standing under the hot stream of water remained one of her favorite things in all the multiverse.

It was nice, Dor mused, living a quiet, school-going life with Jean Grey the last two months. Quiet, that is, until today, a rare moment of excitement interrupting the gentle pace of attending class on weekdays and whiling away afternoons in their apartment. Dor loved school and had done her best to learn it all, from history to mathematics, literature to science. She almost thought she might like to attend school for the rest of her life except for the thrill of excitement buzzing in her head, awakened by the fight between Ryu Sensei and Zangief.

Dor had promised to accompany Jean in her study of meditation, but the quarter was coming to a close in a few weeks and then Jean would return to Xavier’s Institute. Dor’s heart fluttered at the chance to go somewhere new. Part of her wanted to accompany Jean back to New York, to see her friends at the Institute, but part of her wanted to wander the corridors of the Infinite Library until she emerged somewhere she’d never been before.

Dor turned under the shower stream and let it warm her back. Her skin tingled at the sensation and she shivered, her whole body tensing for a moment. The tingle lingered at her backside, sparking thoughts of spanking, and she blushed.

For as long as she had lived at St. Bridget’s, Dor had been spanked at least once every few weeks. She’d been intimately familiar with what it was to bend over Sister Mary Margaret’s broad lap, have her bottom bared, and feel the repeated sting of humiliation. It had been a regular part of her life and she’d hated it.

Now she ached for it.

She found herself caught off guard at innocuous times of day, sitting in math class, or doing the dishes, or waking from a dream she couldn’t quite remember, her thoughts on remembering what it was like to be spanked, to have control wrested from her, or even given up willingly, and subjected to punishment. She’d hated her life at St. Bridget’s, and the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about spanking, bothered her.

But, Dor mused as she worked shampoo into her hair, things were different now. Ever since her spark ignited and she’d wandered into the Multiverse, Dor had been spanked significantly less often. Furthermore, she’d asked for some of those spankings. Not to mention that she’d delivered a few of her own.

For a while, Dor had thought Jean might spank her. They were living in a small apartment, and Dor thought she’d certainly do something naughty, or impolite, or irritating, and Jean would take her role as the authority figure of their little household. But it hadn’t happened.

Dor was relieved to not have the constant threat of being unfairly spanked weighing upon her shoulders. But Jean was such a kind, lovely, and strong young woman, and Dor was embarrassed to admit, even only to herself, that she wanted Jean Grey to take her over her lap as she had, back at the Institute. A few times she’d nearly asked the older girl to spank her, but resisted. Jean, surely, would think it peculiar. Besides, Dor’s crush on Jean was unrequited.

Chapter Text

Dor and Jean spent most weekends seeking out the homeplane of the artifacts Mr. Quillon had stolen and returning them. It allowed them to put their meditation lessons into practice while relieving Dor of the stress the artifacts weighed upon her mind. Dor had been reticent at first, considering the terrifying cosmic phoenix buried within Jean’s psyche, but Jean assured her that Ryu Sensei’s lessons had helped her understand it better.

“Ryu Sensei says the Satsui no Hado is always there, that he must always be prepared to resist it. I think the phoenix is much the same. It’s not so scary any more. Especially if I’m with a friend.”

Not every meditation session was successful, but so far Dor had returned the Behemoth Powercoins to a blue-clad ninja in a place called the Temple of Power, Windu’s Lightsaber to a small, green-skinned hermit on a planet called Degobah, and Coriakin’s Tome to a great, shaggy lion sitting beneath an old lamp-post in a thick, snowy forest.

“Thank you, Daughter of Eve,” the lion had said upon her arrival. His voice was deep and rich and thick, like the very best of Johnny Boulder’s hot chocolate in the Hufflepuff common room. “You have saved me a great deal of trouble in tracking down this book.”

Dor had swallowed hard. The lion was massive and looked not at all tame, but he had spoken to her kindly. “I’m happy to have helped, sir. I’m sorry for any trouble its theft caused.”

“You do a noble thing, Dorothy Grimoire.” And he opened his mouth, showing large, sharp teeth, and extended his tongue to rasp her forehead in a great, feline kiss. Dor had felt a great sense of calm for days afterward.

The Saturday morning after Zangief invaded Ryu Sensei’s dojo, Dor and Jean sat together in their small apartment, clad in pajamas. Jean read the local paper, having picked up the basics of the language quickly. Dor, on her second cup of coffee, read letters.

Gwen wrote back on behalf of both herself and her cousin Ben, and she and Dor had become frequent correspondents. They’d had an eventful summer. Queen Guinevere had matters of state to attend to but wrote occasionally. Pearl wrote consistently. The Ornitiers and the Chens, Twilight and her friends, Bryll and Iggy, had all written back. In fact, the only letter that hadn’t gotten a response was the one she’d written to Sister Mary Margaret.

“I think we’ll have it today,” Jean said as she folded her newspaper.

Dor nodded, setting aside a letter from Willow Daheed about how their success with the Anything Tree had prompted the White Lotus Council of Arcane Development to grant her a promotion to Arcane Adept.

Dor and Jean had meditated upon a card called Vaati’s Seven-Part-Rod for several weekends in a row and last weekend had finally felt a resonance in the Multiverse. Today she hoped to planeswalk to the artifact’s plane of origin and give it to someone who could receive it. It had been Jean’s suggestion to seek not only the artifacts’ origin, but either its original owner, or someone who would not abuse its power.

Vaati’s Seven-Part-Rod was a silver-framed card, as all the artifacts anchored to her mind were. It depicted a thick, metal staff of seven interlocking parts, each of which hummed with its own power. Though they couldn’t tell what the rod did just by meditating on the card, they could tell it was quite powerful.

When they were ready, the girls sat cross-legged upon the floor, facing each other. They closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and opened their minds to each other. Dor cast [Pince’s Catalogue] and [Jean’s Telepathy] with bare a thought.

Around them, the universe, an infinite sphere in a sea of such spheres, spread and contracted. As their calm grew and their meditation synchronized, Dor breathed as Jean breathed. Their thoughts melded. Their awareness touched the edges of the Marvelverse and, between them, Vaati’s Seven-Piece-Rod pulsed to a faintly different rhythm. After a moment stretched thin there was a spark of golden light, and the Multiverse spread around them in all directions. That golden light threaded through and among the infinite, alternate, and parallel planes of existence, to one in particular: the homeplane of Vaati’s Seven-Piece-Rod. 

The girls blinked as one, staring through each other’s eyes, letting the echoes of the artifact guide their will, and their will guide the echoes. They searched for someone who could receive the artifact without abusing it. A cacophonous myriad of light, sound, and sensation flickered before them, like pages riffling in a book. Individual locations attached to the plane blinked before them: a place of chaos and pandemonium and war; a place of high wind and cold logic, a place of traps, treasures, and monsters lorded over by an aberration gangster. 

They let the locations flit past, waiting for one to resonate. On and on it went until Jean’s thoughts whispered. 

“A moment. Back a few.” 

Jean guided their thoughts to a mountain monastery: white-washed walls, red-tiled roofs, winding pathways, careful gardens, and folk clad in simple robes going about their business. 

“This one feels pleasant, compassionate, just.” Their voices spoke in unison. 

The artifact card, Vaati’s Seven-Piece-Rod, vibrated in synch with the thought of the monastery. The girls released their connection and returned to themselves, blinking away the afterimage of the Multiverse. It was several minutes before they returned fully. As experienced as they were in casting their minds through the Multiverse, it was still a heady experience. 

Dor took a swallow of coffee. Jean sipped at her tea.

“I suppose you’ll be off soon,” said Jean quietly.

Dor nodded. “Just as soon as I change clothes.” She drained the last of her coffee, hesitated, then said, “Do you maybe want to come with me this time?” Dor had invited Jean to come along on her artifact-returning jaunts. She had explained how the [Gem’s Fusion] spell would allow Jean to accompany her, after a fashion.

 Jean had declined. She’d said she was uncomfortable with becoming someone else. Dor had been disappointed, but understood. It was certainly a strange experience to become a new person. But this time, Jean pursed her lips and considered.

“I think… I think, maybe, yes.” She bit her lip and looked away. “I don’t mean it to be anything bad about you, Dorothy, but it was very strange being that other person. I remember it as though the memories were mine, and they kind of are, but they kind of aren’t. I don’t know much about that person and I was worried that I… or we, would do something I wouldn’t approve of.

“But every time you’ve gone off to deliver one of your artifacts, I’ve immediately regretted not taking the opportunity to travel to a whole different plane of existence. So, yes. I would very much like to come with you this time, if that’s all right.”

Jean looked up at Dor without the poise and confidence Dor knew her for. Instead, Jean was reticent and uncertain as though Dor hadn’t just invited her.

“Absolutely,” said Dor.

Jean dressed in black tights under a black skirt and a collared, blue, button-up with the circle-inscribed X stitched subtly upon the upper left breast. Dor dressed in her Hogwartian school uniform with black and yellow Hufflepuff tie.

“What’s next?” asked Jean.

“I cast [Gem’s Fusion], and as long as we’re both willing, we’ll become one person, as we did before.”

Jean gave a small, mischievous smile. “Last time we fused, I was spanking your bare bottom.” She cleared her throat and blushed. “Will I need to do that this time?”

Dor blushed hard and bit her tongue. She wanted to say ‘yes’, but was embarrassed. “I don’t think so, no.”

“I was only teasing, Dorothy. I’m sorry.”

“Not at all. I deserved it and asked for it. But that was… last time we fused, that an accidental casting.” Dor pulled her wand from her mindpocket and opened her mental grimoire. [Gem’s Fusion] shone with a pale golden light. She blinked up at Jean.

“Ready?”

Jean nodded.

Jenothy Esperwind was a tall, lithe woman with shining, aquamarine eyes; and pale, alabaster skin; and hair the color of violet wine falling in gentle waves to her knees. She was clad in Jean’s black tights and blue button up, Dor’s charcoal skirt and striped tie. In the center of her forehead was a third eye, and when she opened it, the thoughts of everyone in the neighborhood were open to her. For Dor, and even Jean, it would have been too much all at once, but Jenothy absorbed the information easily.

“All right. Focus on the task,” she told herself, voice smooth and calm.

With a thought, she drew Vaati’s Seven-Piece-Rod from Dorothy’s grimoire. She could feel the echo of the card as it resonated with that plane of existence beyond her own, and that resonance guided her. Another thought and she slipped from the apartment to Dorothy’s mindpocket. The room was neat and orderly and meticulous, each book on the bookshelves in its place, the table in the middle of the room clean, the quilt upon the armchair neatly folded.

When Jenothy opened the door to the Infinite Library, a golden road guided her to her destination. She walked along the corridors between books with graceful purpose, bare feet padding silently.

Jenothy stepped from the Infinite Library into a section of the library at the mountain monastery. She opened her third eye and gleaned a wealth of surface thoughts. Many of the minds within range of her passive psionic senses were shielded, but enough weren’t to tell her she was in the Monastery of the Golden Lily, a place that trained and championed the causes of Law and Good.

Most immediately, she picked up the thoughts of a young half-elf named Lunsford. Lunsford had been assigned to inspect and catalogue this section of the library. It had been meant to teach him patience and humility, but he saw it as a punishment for what the masters of the monastery described as reckless behavior.

And as soon as Jenothy stepped from the bookshelves, Lunsford snapped into action. Instead of taking a moment to determine who she was and what she was doing there, Lunsford assumed she was an agent of Chaos; or worse, Evil; or even worse, Chaotic Evil, and moved to confront her with the martial art techniques he’d learned at the monastery.

Jenothy closed her third eye and turned to face Lunsford. She put her hands behind her back, stood up straight, and tried to project an air of calm and curiosity. She did not want to fight this young man, and she hoped to show him by her demeanor that she was no threat.

But as she turned around, Lunsford was already attacking.

He struck her upon her breastbone with the heel of his hand, stance low and solid. Jenothy gasped and stumbled backward. She would have fallen into the shelf of books, but the bookshelf parted for her and she was again in the Infinite Library. Aisles of bookshelves spread from her in all directions.

The blow was solid, and Jenothy was stunned. She took several moments to collect her breath. She was safe here, in the library. Lunsford could not follow, so she took another moment to collect herself. She was irritated, but she didn’t have to respond to the foolish boy’s violence with yet more violence. Neither would she let him hit her again.

Jenothy drew her wand. From the Infinite Library, so close to the library of the Monastery of the Golden Lily, there were many avenues open to her. And from each she could see a different angle of Lunsford. He was no longer combat ready. He stood cocky and akimbo, certain he had vanquished Evil from the library of the monastery.

Annoyed and determined, Jenothy opened the grimoire with a thought and stepped back across the threshold.

He didn’t notice her return. Not right away. And Jenothy didn’t want to strike him from behind, so she waited, patiently, wand at the ready. And when he did see her and leapt back, searching for a defensive stance, that’s when she struck. [Jubilee’s Dazzler] took him full in the face and he staggered into a shelf of books.

She wasn’t inclined to use water, fire, or storm in a library, and shapeshifting seemed disproportionate, so instead she spoke directly to the young monk’s mind.

“I am not a threat. I am here to deliver an artifact to the master of this monastery. Please, do not attack me again.”

But young Lunsford was not convinced. He shook his head desperately, trying to dislodge her voice. And though his senses were still blinded by the dazzler, he struck out in a leaping kick that collided with a bookshelf and spilled books to the floor. With a flick of her wand, Jenothy cast [Pince’s Catalogue], returning the books to their spot and organizing the rest of the shelf in passing.

Exasperated, Jenothy opened her third eye. His mind was open to her immediately, just as though they were playing a game of cards, and his hand was face up on the table. Lunsford struck out again and again, missing the mark wildly. Jenothy kept out of the way easily, able to anticipate each blow with the advantage of perfect information.

She wanted to end the confrontation without either hurting him or dominating his mind, but he was making it difficult. Then a thought occurred to her. Lunsford was young, maybe a little older than Dorothy, certainly younger than Jean. He’d been assigned this section of the library to allow him the practice of humility and focus. But he’d seen it as punishment and it had made him contrite.

Jenothy slipped sideways from the monastery library to the Infinite Library. Dorothy didn’t have a specific spell for Jenothy’s plan, but Jean’s psionics were wide-ranging. Her telekinesis could do a great many things if applied thoughtfully. She stepped forward from the Infinite to the monastery, behind Lunsford, and snaked her telekinetic power around his wrists as though it were a length of sturdy rope. With a careful but firm tug, she pulled his wrists behind his back and he shouted in dismay, searching for a limb to grab, a body to strike, a foe to fight.

It was a simple application of power to hoist the young half-elf by the middle, lifting him from the floor and removing any purchase or leverage. It had the added benefit of bending him at the middle just enough for her purposes. She lengthened and flattened her telekinetic power into an invisible paddle and smacked it across his backside.

Lunsford cried out, surprised and humiliated. “No! Stop!”

“You should know better than to attack a visitor,” Jenothy said, both aloud and into his mind. She spanked him again. He yelped. “I am here to return Vaati’s Seven-Part-Rod.” She spanked him twice. He grunted. “I came here to right a wrong, and you attacked me without cause.” She spanked him three times, a rapid application of telekinesis. He howled.

Jenothy softened her tone. “Young man, if ever you wish to be a true monk, you must learn to temper your actions, consider a situation, and not leap to violence.”

With her telekinesis, she turned him around so they were face to face but kept well out of headbutt range, just in case. His cheeks were flush and his eyes were bright, but he hadn’t cried. Bound by the wrists and held at the waist, he was a pitiful sight as he tried to glare at her.

 “What kind of demon are you?”

Jenothy shook her head. “I’m no demon at all. I am here to return a powerful artifact. So, either you can take me to someone in charge, or I can leave you bound here and go looking myself.”

She blinked her third eye at him and felt his thoughts atumble, weighing his options. Rather quickly, he decided he did not want to be left bound for someone else to find, so he cleared his throat and nodded.

“I will show you to the masters’ garden. I am not allowed to enter, but someone there should be able to help you.” Then his expression hardened. “And if you are an agent of Chaos, they will smite you from existence.”

Jenothy nodded, and with a thought, set the boy upon his feet and released him. She stepped back, put her hands behind her back, and stood straight, waiting for him to take the lead.

Lunsford stood up and brushed at his robes. He clenched his fists to keep from rubbing his spanked backside. He cleared his throat. “Follow me, please.”

Presently, Jenothy was at a side entrance to a large, well-tended garden. Her passive telepathy detected a handful of minds within, each of them well-shielded from outside intrusion. There was one that outshone them all: expansive, powerful, and contemplative. This was surely the master of the Monastery of the Golden Lily and she could feel the resonance of Vaati’s Seven-Piece-Rod synchronize with that mind.

The garden was carefully maintained while being allowed to grow as it willed. There were stands of narrow, hardy trees, and great rose bushes; potted flowers and long grasses; stone walkways and breezy pergolas. And, of course, lilies in all colors.

She came upon a meadow at the edge of which was a stone bench. A young man sat upon the bench clad in simple monk’s robes: pale blue with white trim and brass adornments. He was young and handsome with short-cropped platinum blond hair, silvery grey eyes, and a strong jaw. All around him, some on the bench, some in the grass at his feet, was a small flock of golden canaries. He sipped from a cup of tea and smiled at her.

Something about him made Jenothy shiver.

“Would you care for tea?” the man asked. Even his voice was beautiful: thick and melodious. Jenothy felt calm and welcome and she nodded.

“Yes, thank you.”

She approached as though in a daze, content and calm and just a little bit tingly. Though the man’s mind was well-shielded against telepathy, she was able to glean a bit of information. He was the Grandmaster of Flowers, Bahamut. She didn’t know the title or the name, but even just that information was enough to make her skin prickle. In her mind, Dor’s grimoire opened and [Dor’s Dragonform] pulsed at the space between her shoulders. The spell resonated with Bahamut and wanted out.

Jenothy sat on the stone bench and accepted a cup of tea. It was warm, with a subtle citrus fragrance. She sipped at it and decide it was the best tea she’d ever had.

“Well, aren’t you a puzzling combination,” Bahamut said.

Jenothy nodded. “I suppose so. My name is Jenothy Esperwind. I am the fusion of a psionicist and a planeswalker, a manifestation of their friendship. The planeswalker has acquired a trove of stolen artifacts, one of which belongs to this plane and which we believe you are best suited to take charge of.”

Bahamut nodded. “You two are well suited to each other. Your auras are in synch.”

Jenothy nodded patiently. Bahamut was Grandmaster of Flowers, the master of this place, and it felt wrong to rush him. She sipped at her tea and watched one of the golden canaries leap from the grass to perch upon a nearby tree, examining the branch for something of interest.

“Unfortunately, Ms. Esperiwnd, you’ve caught me at a busy moment. I’d have very much liked to hear your story and perhaps see that dragonform you’ve got tucked within. Nevertheless, I can tell you strive to be a champion for Good. Both of you. It’s not an easy path. There will be struggles, but please know, on whatever plane you find yourself, those who strive to exalted deeds can always find allies.”

He took another sip of his tea then set the cup aside and stood.

“All right, young lady.” He held out this hand.

Jenothy likewise took a sip of tea before setting her cup aside and standing. She reached into the mindpocket and pulled Vaati’s Seven-Piece-Rod from its place in the grimoire. The magic pulsing at her shoulders built. She pulled the card to her hands and the magic released, pulling a small gasp from her, widening her eyes and tightening her skin. And then the rod was in her hands.

The rod was about a meter long with a thick shaft and interlocking sections. At one end was set a large, polished, multi-faceted crystal. At the other a silvery orb. All manner of patterns and runes were engraved up and down the shaft, studded with buttons and knobs. Just holding it, she could feel the magic within, the wealth of spells available to her.

 She held it out to Bahamut.

He smiled gently and took it in one hand. “The Rod of Law, created by the Vaati, also called the Dukes of Wind or Bahamut’s Angels. It was instrumental in defeating and imprisoning Miska the Wolfspider. I am grateful for its return. Thank you. Both of you.”

Chapter Text

The dojo was under repair when they returned to school. Scaffolding had been set up and workers were in and out of the room. Nonetheless, meditation class continued as normal. Ryu Sensei said it was good to learn to ignore distraction.

Jean and Dor’s quiet school life resumed.

A few days later, Dor received a letter from Li saying Minwu had given birth and she should come visit as soon as she had time. Dor spent several afternoons visiting the Ornitiers, the new baby Vivi, and helping with the twins. Dor cast [Tenshu’s Special] to relieve them the burden of cooking. Minwu explained to Dor the intricacies of maternal white magic.

“I’m exhausted and ache all over and my nipples are chapped, but it would be so much harder without magic.”

Li gave Dor some money to ‘walk to the Bazaar of Baghdad and purchase more balm for Minwu and some roasted coffee beans for him.

“The coffee here is mediocre,” he confided.

Dor returned to the apartment she shared with Jean late that Friday night, carrying a small bag of coffee for their next couple mornings. Jean looked up from where she sprawled on the couch, reading.

“Is that the same you brought last time? It smells amazing.”

Dor nodded. “The Ornitiers asked me to stop by the Bazaar and Li gave me a little extra.”

“How’s the baby?”

Dor had invited Jean to fuse with her to meet the Ornitiers, but Jean had declined, not wanting to intrude.

“He’s squishy and damp and adorable,” Dor said, unable to help a grin.

Jean and Dor finished out the semester at Tamagawa Minami High School with high marks. Dor was flush with pride. She’d never attended a full quarter of school, and that she’d done well was especially satisfying. Meditation class with Ryu Sensei didn’t have grades in the traditional sense, but the taciturn man told Jean and Dor they had both improved tremendously in their technique.

“Inner darkness is not something that ever goes away,” he told Jean in his solemn manner. “You must always watch out for it. You are strong, Grey. Remember what you’ve learned here, and this darkness will not overtake you.”

Jean bowed. “Thank you, Ryu Sensi.”

To Dor, he said, “You remain unbalanced, but you are young and discovering yourself. I sense five forces within you. They oppose and ally each other and, I think, can be balanced. It will take work. I recommend it.”

Dor nodded. It was similar to what Willow Daheed had told her, about five colors of magic. She also bowed and thanked the sensei.

With the quarter done, Professor Xavier arranged for their return to New York. For Dor, packing was easy. Most of what she owned she stored in her mindpocket and her mindpocket was easily organized via [Pince’s Catalogue]. Jean, on the other hand, had to pack her clothes and supplies in actual luggage. Between the two of them, they were packed and ready in plenty of time, and on the morning they were to meet the Blackbird at a nearby airport, were sitting in their little apartment with nothing to do but wait.

They sat on the couch, coffee in hand, companionable silence in the air.

Jean suddenly shifted. “Dor, are you expecting someone?”

Dor blinked up from her coffee, “What? No. Why?”

“There’s someone coming. He knows your name. He’s not hostile, but there’s something a little off about him,” Jean said.

A few moments later, someone knocked on the door. Dor and Jean looked at each other, then Dor stood drew her wand from the mindpocket.

“I’ll answer,” said Dor

“I’ll be right behind you.” Jean stood as well.

On the other side of the door was a slim, pale man with short, curly hair; thick, black glasses, and a black suit.

“Hi. My name is Gary. Director Sharpe sent me. Are you Dorothy?” His tone was that of someone speaking to a skittish animal. “Do you remember Ava Sharpe of the Time Bureau?”

Dor slipped her wand back to the mindpocket and nodded. Just after the Infinite Library had obliterated Mr. Quillon, Ava Sharpe, a severe-looking woman in a black suit, had shown up to ask her about it.

From behind Dor, Jean spoke. “What’s this about please?” Though her words were polite, there was an air of demand about the question.

Gary looked past Dor, surprised. “I’m sorry, have we met? “

“We have,” said Jean, tone flat. “Just now. What is this about?”

“Ah. Well.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I was only supposed to talk to Dorothy. It’s a sensitive matter you see.” He nodded a bit, as though expecting agreement.

Dor frowned. “Jean is a dear friend. I barely know Director Sharpe. Either tell us what she wants, or go away.”

Gary looked shocked for a moment, then nodded. “Right. Okay then.” He straightened his tie, stood a little taller, and took an exaggerated breath. “One of your fellow prisoners of Silas Quillon has stolen a powerful artifact and fled. We need your help. Please.”  He glanced over Dor’s shoulder at Jean then back at her. “If that’s okay.”

Dor considered. Part of her was excited to see her friends at Xavier’s Institute. But each time she planeswalked to return an artifact, an unparalleled thrill lit in her chest. It was the same tangle of feelings she’d wrestled with when leaving Kya to return Camelot’s Excalibur. But just as then, Dor knew she could visit her friends whenever she liked and the chance to go somewhere new was too great a pull. She wanted to travel the Multiverse and if she could help people in the process, that was all the better.

Dor turned to face Jean. “Will you be okay to return without me?”

Jean nodded but she looked at Gary suspiciously. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Dor shrugged. “I’ve met Director Sharpe. And you’d know if this man had ulterior motives, right?”

Jean nodded.

“Besides,” said Dor. “I’ve taken it upon myself to keep interdimensional artifacts from hurting folks, so this feels right.” It was true, but not the whole truth. “I promise I’ll write to let you know I’m okay.”

Jean frowned, but she nodded again. Dor felt a flood of relief. Not that she needed Jean’s permission, but she was glad to have even that small note of approval.

Jean put her hands on Dor’s shoulders then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Be safe.”

Dor blushed and smiled and nodded quickly. A pleased tingle ran up and down her spine. “Yes ma’am.”

“Excellent!” Gary clapped his hands sharply and Dor gave a little jump. The girls turned to watch as he used the device on his wrist to open a portal in the hallway just outside their apartment. The portal led to an austere, pale, well-lit room populated by people in dark suits at thin computers upon spare desks. It had a feel of minimalist efficiency that made Dor long for her book-stuffed mindpocket. With one last look at Jean, and a mental hold of her wand just in case, Dor followed Gary through the portal.

Director Sharpe’s office was open but dim, with dark wood paneling, dark carpet, and a dark leather couch along one wall. The overhead lighting was minimal. Lamps placed throughout the office provided directed light. Director Sharpe looked up from her computer when Dor came in. her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She wore a dark, crisp suit. Her expression was tight.

“Ms. Dorothy. Thank you for coming.” She sat up straight and swiveled her chair while gesturing for Dor to take one of the chairs across the desk from her.

Dor glanced at Gary who gave her a thumbs up and a grin. She entered the office timidly, but forced herself to approach. She clasped her hands behind her back and reminded herself she could draw her wand or transform into a dragon with a thought.

She did not sit.

“We met, briefly,” Director Sharpe said. “Do you remember?”

Dor nodded. “It wasn’t that long ago, Director.”

The Director gave her a flat look and Dor squirmed.

“I’ve asked you here because the Time Bureau has a request. Our job is to keep an eye on the timeline so reality does not unravel. We largely stay out of interdimensional affairs. However, several months ago, when Silas Quillon’s mindcage collapsed, we intervened because Quillon had been a Time Master of this dimension, and was, therefore, our responsibility.

“You were well enough on your own, so we let you be. Marnie Kim has been adopted. The remaining three, Jillian Hook, Queenie Heart, and Elmira Gulch, chose to train with us at the Time Bureau. Three days ago, Ms. Heart went rogue.”

Dor had only briefly met Queenie, when she’d walked in on Mr. Quillon beating Elmira with a cane. Queenie had seemed falsely sweet and casually cruel. Dor swallowed hard and hunched.

“Okay. And what do you need from me?”

“The Time Bureau monitors the timeline. The Collectors monitor parallel Earths. Between our organizations, we largely keep reality from falling apart. But Ms. Heart is not originally from our multiverse. Travelling between our parallel Earths is easy enough, but travelling outside our pocket of the Multiverse gets tricky. Unless you’re a planeswalker.”

“Queenie’s a planeswalker? I was under the impression Mr. Quillon removed their planeswalking powers to make his teleporters.”

Director Sharpe shrugged. “I have to admit, I do not know how it works, but all three cadets rescued from Quillon’s mindcage have begun to recover their ability to planeswalk. Ms. Heart more quickly than the others. When she disappeared, I was ready to dismiss the matter. She chose to train with us and can choose to leave. But this morning we discovered she had stolen an item from the vault called a keyblade.”

“So because she’s not on one of your parallel Earths, you want me to look for Queenie Heart and this keyblade?”

“Not exactly. You’re a civilian, and I wouldn’t impose upon you to undertake a mission for us. Instead, I was hoping you’d be willing to work with one of our cadets, help her get a handle on planeswalking. Your role would be to teach her about planeswalking.”

“I see.” This wasn’t what she’d expected based on Gary’s explanation. Even so, she thought about Bahamut praising her for being a good person and striving to do the right thing, and she nodded. “I’m happy to help.”

Director Sharpe nodded. “Thank you, Dorothy.” She pressed a button on her computer and there was a pale tone. “Send Agent Gulch in, please.”

Dor startled. “Wait. Elmira Gulch?”

Director Sharpe gave her a look. “She and Agent Hook are the only planeswalkers on staff. Who did you think I meant?”

Dor bit her tongue. She hadn’t given it much thought, but had assumed this world might have its own planeswalkers. She was about to back out when the door opened.

Elmira Gulch entered. She was a pale girl, but not as pale as Dor. She had brown hair, cropped short, and dark brown eyes. Her expression was neutral, but Dor couldn’t help but see a sneer beneath her hooked nose. She wore the same style of suit as Director Sharpe.

Dor turned quickly back to Director Sharpe.

“Director Sharpe, I’m sorry, but this is a terrible idea. If I’d known you meant her, I’d have refused. Elmira hates me and I’m none too fond of her. She pursued me across the Multiverse. She nearly killed me. She threatened people I love.” 

Director Sharpe stood up slowly. She looked from Dor to Elmira. “Is this true?”

Dor glared at Elmira, breath heaving with emotion, shoulders tingling with magic.

Elmira’s jaw clenched and she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Dor demanded. She was all for striving to help, but this felt like a set up and she wasn’t about to put herself in a position to be hurt by Elmira, or anyone else, ever again.

“When I asked if anyone could think of who might be able to help, Elmira’s the one who recommended you.” Director Sharpe shrugged. “She was reluctant about it, but seemed to think you were competent.” She fixed Elmira with a look. “Do you still think Ms. Dorothy is best suited to help us?”

Elmira swallowed hard and nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”

Dor was aghast. Did Elmira really think Dor was best suited to help her? Or maybe it was a trick. Maybe she wanted Dor to help her escape to another plane, or to get her alone and extract revenge. With a tap at her grimoire, she cast [Jean’s Telepathy].

“Are you serious?” She focused her telepathy on Elmira and watched her closely. Elmira’s thoughts were a tightly controlled veneer over frustrated chaos.

Elmira frowned. “I’m trying to do a good job here. I’ll do all the actual work. I just need you to show me how to do it on purpose, how to go to another world so I can follow Queenie.”

Dor could detect no lie in Elmira’s thoughts. But more than that, there was an intense desire to be her own master, to do what she thought was right because she thought it. Dor also sensed a begrudging admiration for herself which was startling and confusing in equal measure. She could not imagine why Elmira would have anything resembling admiration for her.

It was confusing and uncertain and for several moments, Dor could only shake her head in surprise. But they had asked for help, so Dor took a breath and looked at Director Sharpe.

“All right,” Dor said. “I’ll do what I can.”

Director Sharpe nodded. “What do you need?”

Dor thought back to her first lesson with Twilight Sparkle. “We need a quiet place to talk and focus. Is there a library or study room we could use?”

“Wonderful. Two of my favorite activities.” Elmira’s grumbling was only barely audible.

Director Sharpe considered, then said, “I can give you an empty meeting room. Do you want me there?”

“Yes,” Dor said at the same time Elmira said, “No.”

The girls looked at each other. Eventually, Elmira said, “Quit looking at me like I’m going to attack you.”

“Why? You’ve attacked me before.”

“Well, I’m not now.”

Dor looked at Director Sharpe. “I would prefer you were there as well.”

Elmira sighed explosively, exasperation heavy in her tone.

“Do you want my help or not?” Dor was regretting her decision to accompany Gary through that portal. She wondered if there was time to ‘walk back to the Marvelverse and find Jean before she boarded the Blackbird.

Elmira closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. “I do.”

“And this isn’t just some trick to get back at me?”

“No.” The word sounded like it was ground out between stones.

Dor took a breath and looked at Director Sharpe. “All right. Let’s get started, please.”

Director Sharpe showed them to a spare, simple room, like much of the Time Bureau she’d seen. Only Director Sharpe’s office had much personality. There was a round, pale grey table and four plastic chairs on wheels. Elmira walked to the far side of the table and sat facing the door, jaw clenched, eyes angry.

Dor chose the chair across the table from her.

Director Sharpe closed the door. The room went silent but for the hiss of air. Director Sharpe sat to Dor’s right, Elmira’s left.

Dor took a long, careful breath. She ignored Director Sharpe’s expectant look, Elmira’s irritated glare. She took another breath, thinking about what to say before she said it.

“Magic is about imagination and will. Let’s start there.”

Elmira snorted. “I can sling magical fire no problem. It’s planeswalking I need help with.”

Dor bit her tongue on a retort. “I understand. But planeswalking is a kind of magic. For me, it’s a kind of tingle, deep in my chest, and I can step to the room in my mind, which connects—”

Elmira snorted. “A tingle deep in your chest? Next are you going to tell me love and friendship are the real magic?”

Dor pounded the table with her fist. “Do you want my help or not?!”

Elmira’s eyes went wide. Director Sharple cleared her throat. 

“Sorry,” Dor muttered. She wasn’t used to losing her temper, and she didn’t like it. “You asked for my help. All I can do is tell you what works for me. If you don’t want that, fine. But if you do, stop belittling me.” She glanced at Director Sharpe who gave her a small nod, then looked at Elmira who looked away.

“All right,” said Elmira. She sounded almost choked. “Go ahead. I’m s… Go ahead.”

Dor put her hands flat on the table. The room was cool and quiet and she took several moments to steady her breathing, let her mind settle, then took a breath and started again.

“The most basic of magic is driven by mental focus and metaphor, instinct and imagination. I imagine a room in my mind. A safe place only I can enter. Then, I imagine my power. Mine is a book, but it could be anything. By finding that metaphor, I’ve been able to quickly and easily access my magic.”

Dor swallowed and looked at Elmira. “Do you want to try?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Elmira gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m terrible at meditation though.”

“I can help with that. If you’re okay with it, I can connect our minds.”

Elmira squirmed, but nodded. “Do it.” And she tensed as though to take a blow.

Dor tapped at [Jean’s Telepathy] and reached with the power, as though extending a hand, then waited. She was used to meditating with Jean, who was more than proficient with her telepathy. Eventually, when Elmira did not reach back, Dor tapped at Elmira’s mind, like knocking upon a door. 

Elmira’s response was like a struck match. Her mind lashed out at Dor’s, grabbed hold, then fled. Dor’s chest expanded with magic, stuffed to burst, and the Multiverse opened. She tried to hang on, to keep them anchored, but Elmira’s panic tore into the Blind Eternities, launching them into sense-crushing, self-shattering chaos.

And without the Infinite Library, Dor could not direct their flight.

Chapter Text

Dor felt like she’d been turned inside out and squeezed through a keyhole. She tumbled through the infinite nowhere in the wake of Elmira’s wild flight until a plane caught them by the tail. Their headlong tumble snapped abruptly and banged to a halt. Dor groaned, battered all over and bent awkwardly. It was several moments more before she could think, let alone move, and realized she was upside down, her shoulders on the floor, her back against a flat, stone surface, and her legs hanging in front of her face. With a grunt and a scramble, she got her feet under her and stood. 

She stood in a grand hall, at least three stories tall. The wall before her was dominated by a large, stone fireplace, at least as tall as she was and five times as wide. A fire crackled within, warm and bright and cheery. To either side of the fireplace was a pair of windows nearly as tall as the great hall itself, through which, she could see the stone wall of this room was at least three feet thick, and the landscape beyond was obscured by soft, misty snowfall. She stood upon a thick, red rug with golden trim. Banners in the same colors hung from the ceiling marked with a stylized golden C upon a black circle. She turned slowly, taking it in with a sense of wonder, to find the room was a massive domed cylinder with balconies upon balconies filled with shelves and work tables and tools and projects. Standing upon a pedestal in the center of the great cylindrical room, easily visible from any balcony, was a massive globe dotted with bright, twinkling lights. 

The globe might have reminded her of Mr. Quillon’s magical method of tracking those with a planeswalker spark, except this room had a sense of warmth and joyousness. Dor couldn’t explain it, but everything about this giant room put her at ease. 

“Where are we?” Dor whispered. 

“Somewhere rich and powerful,” Elmira said. “We should get out of here. Right now.” She sounded small and timid. 

Dor looked around to find the other girl standing near the center of the rug, as though trying to stay as far from everything as she could. Her shoulders were hunched, expression furtive, like she was trying to hide in plain sight. Dor was warm and comfortable here, but Elmira looked miserable. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You dragged me to this place,” Elmira snapped. “You couldn’t have given me a warning?” 

“Me?” Dor demanded. “You’re the one who lashed out the moment our minds touched. You’re the one who dragged me here. All I wanted was to help you find your magic.” Dor looked around again and felt at ease. She took a deep breath and noted the air smelled faintly of baking. 

“Whatever,” Elmira snapped. “Just get us out of here before…”

There was a whoomph from behind them and a blast of wintry air. The girls spun to face the fireplace. The fire had gone low, and a in a billow of smoke and a puff of magic, a man stepped from the fireplace. He was tall and broad, thick shoulders and a barrel chest. He had rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes, thick black eyebrows and a long white beard. His high-waisted black trousers were held up with a wide, quilted belt. He wore a bright red sweater with the sleeves rolled up to reveal intricate tattoos from wrists to elbows. Dor knew immediately who this man was and she smiled in surprised delight. 

The man looked at the two of them, quizzical, but with the hint of a grin. 

“Are you…” Dor started. 

With a crackle of magic and the stink of sulfur, Elmira summoned her fiery lash. And before Dor could intervene, Elmira’s eyes flared a sullen orange and she attacked. She lashed out at the man who danced aside, surprisingly nimble. The fire whip struck the floor, burning a gash in the crimson carpet. The stink of burned textile billowed about them.

“Elmira, stop!” Dor shouted.

But the other girl didn’t listen. She struck with the lash again, and again was dodged, but she followed up by cocking her arm and thrusting it forward, as though casting a spear. A bright bolt of flame shot toward the man who, instead of dancing aside, conjured a swirl of snow, ice, wind, and countermagic. [Elmira’s Javelin] was swallowed by the icy spell.

“Can’t you see?” Dor tried to reason. “That’s Santa Claus, I’m sure of it. Stop attacking!”

The large man strode toward Elmira, expression firm. Elmira backed up, swinging her lash wildly, unable to land a hit. The man closed the gap swiftly, efficiently and soon was upon the girl.

Dor winced. In all the stories she knew, Santa Claus was kind, cheerful, and benevolent, but he was also known to punish the naughty. In a moment, he had hold of Elmira’s arm and lifted her clear off the floor, then delivered five measured pats with his enormous hand to her backside. It was, perhaps, the gentlest spanking Dor had ever witnessed, but Elmira gasped and danced like she’d been stung all over. Her fire died and her cheeks flushed. The large man released her and Elmira stumbled to the floor. Her eyes were wide and shining, her breathing deep and slow. She looked like she’d seen the wonders of the universe and been left softer for it. Then she looked around at them and her expression hardened, though her eyes did not glow. 

Dor found herself slightly jealous and tried to banish the thought. 

“I am Nicholas North, the Santa Claus of this world and Guardian of Children.” The man had a thick, Russian accent, and though he wasn’t as tall as Zangief, Dor idly wondered if all Russian men were tall and broad and thick. He took several steps back and clasped his hands behind his back. “I would ask what you children are doing here, in my workshop.” 

“I…” Dor began, but Elmira interrupted. 

“Guardian of Children? Since when?” Her words were harsh and thick. “Where were you when I was in that awful orphanage? You never helped any of us there. Never gave presents. We just…” Elmira bit off her words and glared at the man. 

Dor swallowed hard and stared at Elmira. She’d never thought she could feel a mote of sympathy for the girl, but now she wondered just how similar they might be. 

Mr. North sighed and nodded, fixing Elmira with his bright, blue eyes. “You are correct. I cannot protect all children. The Multiverse is vast. The position you know as Santa Claus is taken by many throughout the planes of existence. We have great and wondrous powers available to us. I can access anywhere in the world, on multiple parallel worlds, to deliver gifts and joy. But there are just as many worlds I have no access to. I cannot always intervene. Even my powers have limits.” 

Elmira snorted. “Whatever. So you couldn’t come to my world. Fine. Doesn’t change the fact that you never did anything for me.” She crossed her arms and glared. 

Mr. North pursed his lips and nodded. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a palm-sized book and flipped through it. When he found the page he wanted, he looked from it to Elmira and back again. 

“I understand your frustration with me, Elmira Gulch.” 

Her glare hardened. “Is that your naughty-list?” she demanded. “Gonna spank me again?” 

“You were betrayed by the adults in your life,” Mr. North’s voice was deep and serious. “The people who should have protected you hurt you instead. And I am very sorry I was unable to help. But did you have no opportunities to be kind? The influence of Santa Claus can be found even on worlds we cannot access. You are not responsible for how you were treated, but you are responsible now for how to choose to treat others.” 

Elmira sniffled and turned away. 

Dor stared, eyes wide. 

Mr. North turned to look at her, expression softening. “If I may ask again, why are you two here?” 

“It was a mistake,” Dor said quickly, heart beating rapidly. “I’m…” she glanced at Elmira, who still did not look at them. “We’re planeswalkers. And we, uh, we got lost, I suppose.” 

He looked down at his book while she spoke, and looked up again with a smile. “Dorothy Grimoire. I must apologize to you as well, young lady. Your life has been not so easy, has it? Are you also angry with me?” 

Dor shook her head quickly. “No sir. It’s not your fault.” She glanced at Elmira who hunched her shoulders. 

Mr. North considered, looking from one to the other. “Well, since you are here, and since I have never had the opportunity before, I have something for you. A gift, if you like.” Mr. North banished the little book with a wave of his hand and replaced it with a small, stuffed animal in a sparkling of silvery lights. It was a badger. It wasn’t a realistic badger, but like a creature from a storybook, sitting on its haunches, with large, glass eyes and soft, velvet nose. Its fur was white at the head and underbelly and black everywhere else with black stripes from its ears to its eyes. Except, the closer she looked, Dor realized the black was deepest purple. And the white was palest, golden brown.

Dor’s eyes lit up and her chest swelled.

“Thank you, sir. I…” She faltered and he held the toy out to her. Dor took it in both hands, her thoughts going soft and gentle, her spine tingling, her whole being calm and balanced.

A card shimmered into being in her mind. 

Guardian Plushie

Cost:     1

Type:    Artifact

Text:     So long as this is untapped, you have Ward 1.

            2: This becomes a golem creature with base power and toughness 1/1 and Ward 1.

It was a silver-bordered artifact card, like those Mr. Quillon had stolen, but this one was hers. It did not weigh upon her mind but slid easily into her grimoire at the end, after [Storm’s Salvo]. Dor tried to thank Mr. North again, but the words caught in her throat. She swallowed hard and hugged the stuffed badger to her chest instead. 

He grinned at her and nodded. “You are most welcome, Ms. Grimoire.” He turned to Elmira, who was still turned away from them. He put his hands behind his back and Dor watched as another stuffed animal was summoned in a sparkle of silvery lights. It was a tiger, in a similar style to Dor’s badger, with bright glass eyes and soft features. It was bright orange with stark, black stripes.

“Ms. Gulch? I understand your anger, but I would like to—”

“No,” Elmira snapped and she turned to glare at them both. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Mr. North cleared his throat. “I understand. But perhaps I may offer you tea?” he said. “I’m sure there are cookies baking in the kitchen. We could sit a while and…” 

“We should be going,” Elmira snapped. She looked at Dor. “We have work to do.” 

Dor sighed. She’d have liked to share tea and cookies with Santa Claus.

“I’m afraid she’s right, sir,” Dor said.

Elmira gave her an inscrutable look. She didn’t look angry now, but sullen. She almost looked like she was pouting.

Dor looked at Mr. North and tried to ignore Elmira. “Do you have a library? My planeswalking works best with a library.” Dor could slip to her mindpocket with a thought and access the Infinite Library that way, but she couldn’t take Elmira. She was tempted, just a bit, to leave Elmira with Mr. North, but shoved that thought aside. 

“Of course.” Mr. North gestured to his right with one hand, keeping the other behind his back.

Elmira began walking immediately. “Can’t leave soon enough,” she grumbled.  

Dor looked at the stuffed tiger, still held by Mr. North, behind his back. “Sir? May I take that?” Dor pitched her voice low, so Elmira wouldn’t hear.

Mr. North turned to look at her and cocked his head curiously. “Why?”

“In case she changes her mind,” said Dor. “She’s angry right now, but later she might regret not accepting your gift. Or she might need cheering up.” 

He smiled, just a little, and held up a finger. “But she doesn’t like you and you don’t like her. She probably wouldn’t accept it. So, why continue to try with her?” 

Dor bit her tongue, hugged her stuffed badger, and shrugged. “Because… because I’m beginning to think she and I have some similarities. I don’t think she’s been shown much kindness. And, if I can, I’d like to remedy that. A little. So, may I?” 

Mr. North’s eyes grew brighter, his smile widened, and he nodded. “Of course.” 

He handed the stuffed tiger to her and Dor accepted it. With a thought, she cast [Dor’s Mindpocket] and tucked both plushies into her mindpocket, setting them upon one of the bookshelves, snuggled against a set of charming storybooks she’d found the Infinite Library: Where the Wild Things Are, A Light in the Attic, The Phantom Toolbooth.

The room Mr. North lead them to was smaller than Dor had expected. Exploring the twists and turns of Hogwarts’ library, lounging in the vaulted splendor of the Legrande’s library, had spoiled Dor for expectations on what a library could be. Still, it was a cozy room with a thickly-cushioned set of chairs at the front and bordered upon each wall with sturdy shelves filled with books. The room was warmly lit with lanterns that magically brightened when they entered.

Dor took a deep breath and felt the Infinite Library just the other side of the carefully ordered books. She stepped up to a bookshelf and scanned the bookspines. This section was dedicated to a variety of gift-giving holidays across the world, or possibly multiple worlds: Hogswatch Night: Winter on the Disc; A History of St. Nicholas and Other Gift-givers; Festival of the Bells: Down in Fraggle Rock. The bookspines were bright and festive. Dor put her fingertips against them and the shelf folded before her, revealing the Infinite Library beyond.

Dor turned. Mr. North smiled gently and nodded at her. Elmira looked past her at the book-lined hallway, eyes wide, jaw clenched.

Dor held a hand out to her. “Ready?”

Elmira licked her lips and flicked her gaze to Dor. “Okay.” She stepped forward and took Dor’s hand. Her touch was warm and dry and surprisingly cautious.

“Good luck, ladies,” Mr. North said. “And please know that if there’s anything I can do for you, you’re welcome to return.”

Dor nodded and smiled at him, then turned back to the Infinite Library and stepped into it, Elmira following. She felt the plane where Mr. North’s workshop was fade along her shoulders as they left it behind. After several moments, Elmira pulled her hand from Dor’s.

“What is this place?” Elmira demanded.

“The Infinite Library, a place between planes that I can use to planeswalk.”

Elmira looked at her sidelong as they walked. “Mr. Quillon’s library?” She shuddered and sneered. “Why come back here?”

Dor shook her head. “Mr. Quillon was sentenced to a mindcage that he says he converted into the Infinite Library. But… but I’ve been thinking about that. The Librarian at Unseen University describes L-Space. He says all libraries are connected. And Merlin knew of the Infinite Library. I think Mr. Quillon accessed the Infinite Library from his mindcage, but I don’t think he created it. I think it existed before and independent of him.”

Elmira’s look only grew more skeptical.

Do shrugged. “My mind is anchored to the Infinite Library now. I have access to it and can use it to direct my planeswalking. I even took on the artifacts he collected and have been returning them.”

Elmira snorted with derision and threw up her hands. “You’re returning them? My God you’re an idiot. Do you have any idea—”

Dor stopped walking and crossed her arms.

Elmira was several steps on before she realized. She turned to glare at Dor. “What?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Dor said. “You don’t get to threaten or belittle me. I can and will defend myself. I can put you right back in that meeting room and go after Queenie myself.”

Elmira snorted. “Go after Queenie yourself? Why would you do that?”

“Because she could hurt a lot of people and it’s the right thing to do. Why are you doing it?”

Elmira shook her head. “Idiot.”

Dor frowned, feeling a flare of anger in her chest. “Or maybe I’ll just leave you here, in the Library,” she said. “I could ‘walk somewhere else and leave you here. Then what? Am I still an idiot?”

Elmira crossed her arms, not quite hugging herself.

Dor forced her jaw to unclench. She closed her eyes and took a breath. After a moment, she said, “You asked for my help. I’m trying to help. But you keep…” She took another breath. “I can’t do it if everything’s a fight. I use the Library because I love books and reading and it comes naturally. Once you get used to planeswalking, you’ll do it your way. All right?”

Elmira’s lips twitched, her arms tensed, then she nodded. “Fine.”

Chapter Text

They sat, again, in the small conference room. Dor pulled her feet up to the chair and crossed her legs. The room was silent but for the faint hiss of the air conditioner. Elmira sat with her back straight, her fists on her knees, and her cheeks scarlet. Director Sharpe leaned forward slightly, hands folded on the table looking from Dor to Elmira and back. Eventually, her gaze settled on Elmira.

“Report.”

Elmira clenched her jaw, then gave a small nod. “I’m… not used to telepathic contact. I panicked. We planeswalked, but couldn’t control it. We landed in a non-hostile place and met a local who directed us to a library so Dorothy could planeswalk us back. I… I felt the spark, but I don’t think I’ll be able to reliably planeswalk without significantly more practice.”

Director Sharpe nodded in return. “Very well. I’ll contact the Collectors and see if they want to pursue the issue. Unfortunately, there’s nothing more the Time Bureau can do.”

Dor frowned. She didn’t know Queenie, had only met her once, but the memory of that meeting made her shiver. She didn’t like the idea of just letting her loose on the multiverse with a powerful artifact.

“Wait,” Dor said. “How dangerous is the thing she stole, the keyblade?”

Elmira frowned at her.

Director Sharpe gave her a level look. “That depends entirely upon Ms. Heart. It’s not from our world, and we thought it was inert. To the best of our knowledge, the keyblade’s powers and properties are entirely dependent upon the user. Our psychological profile suggests Ms. Heart has some… troubling tendencies. There’s too much about both the keyblade and Ms. Heart we don’t know, and now she’s beyond our reach. I’m afraid we’ll have to let this one go.”

“I could go after her,” Dor said. “Or at least check in on her, see what she’s up to.” She bit her tongue. On the one hand, this was none of her business. On the other, she’d been asked for help and that weighed upon her.

Director Sharpe considered for several moments, her considering look making Dor want to shrink in on herself.

“How would you find her?” Director Sharpe said. “I’m under the impression that the multiverse is infinite.”

Dor thought about the artifacts she’d returned to their homeplanes. She wondered how Director Sharpe had expected Elmira to find Queenie. After a few moments, she said, “I might be able to do it if you’ve got something of hers. Did she leave anything behind?”

Director Sharpe glanced at Elmira then nodded at Dor. “Come with me.”

Queenie Heart’s dormroom in the Time Bureau reminded Dor of the dormrooms at Xavier’s Institute, but more austere, less homey. She didn’t know if that was the Time Bureau’s influence or Queenie’s. There was a wood-frame bed, a chest of drawers and a desk, all simple and unadorned. The attached bathroom was clean and empty. It looked like the space had never been used.

In the center of the room was a small, neat pile of personal effects, each carefully bagged in plastic: clothes, pens and paper, toiletries, and discarded candy wrappers. Director Sharpe retrieved one of the small, plastic bags and showed it to Dor. It was a simple, heart-shaped amulet, lacquered in red, hung upon a thin, silvery chain.

“Will this do?” Director Sharpe asked.

Dor took the proffered baggie and removed the item. The small amulet did not have the weight of the stolen artifacts still anchored to her mind, but she opened her mental grimoire and tapped at [Jean’s Telepathy], focusing the power through the amulet and into the Infinite Library. In her mind’s eye, she felt a path. It wasn’t as strong as when she’d returned Excalibur, but it was a start.

“I think so,” Dor said. She looked at Director Sharpe. “I’ll let you know what I find out.” She looked inward, to the room in her mind, and was about to step through when Elmira put a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait,” Elmira said.

Dor shrugged out from under the other girl’s hand and gave her a look.

“I should go with you.”

Dor shook her head. “Last time you threw us off. Who knows where we’ll end up?”

“We got back here just fine, didn’t we?” Elmira replied.

“Only because I led and you followed.”

“Well… all right then. I’ll follow.”

Dor narrowed her eyes at Elmira. She didn’t know the other girl very well. She didn’t understand why the fire-throwing villain who’d chased her across planes was now interested in working for an authority like the Time Bureau.

Elmira sighed explosively. “It’s my fault, all right? Mr. Quillon used me to track down others with the spark. You, Queenie, Jill, and all the others. Most of them didn’t survive having their spark harvested. Queenie was… she was gentle when I found her. She only went all psycho after Mr. Quillon got ahold of her. If she’s out there hurting people, that’s my fault.” She crossed her arms and turned away from them.

Dor looked at Director Sharpe who had a carefully neutral look on her face. She looked back at Elmira still not looking at her. Dor took a careful breath. “All right. But when we’re planeswalking, you have to follow my lead.”

Elmira nodded and turned back to them. “Agreed.”

Dor looked at Director Sharpe. “I can’t take Elmira with me to my mindpocket. I’ll need a library, or anywhere with a lot of books or other documents.”

Director Sharpe nodded. “All right then.” She opened a file folder she’d been carrying and flipped to a photograph, and showed it to them. “This is the item we’re looking for.”

Dor took the photograph, marked with a serial number in the bottom left. A label read: keyblade, metamorphic, magical, unknown. It looked to Dor more like an overly long wand, or maybe a staff, than a sword. There was a key-like plate at the far end in the shape of a stylized crown, and an angled hand guard at the handle end. It looked unwieldy.

“I need you both to understand that while this is important, we’re operating in uncharted waters as far as the Time Bureau is concerned. Sending a pair of underage assets, one of whom isn’t even a cadet, on an interdimensional mission is… chancy. Please, do not put yourselves at risk for this.”

Dor glanced at Elmira who gave a firm nod.

The room Director Sharpe took them to on the second sub-floor was dim, even with the lights on. It was dusty, smelled like old paper and fading ink, and filled will row upon row of filing cabinets.

“We’ve digitized our records, but we keep the old paper files, just in case,” Director Sharpe said.

“In case of what?” Elmira asked.

“I… honestly don’t know,” Director Sharpe replied. She looked at Dor. “Will this work?”

Dor nodded. “We’ll let you know what we find.”

Director Sharpe nodded in return.

Dor tapped at [Jean’s Telepathy] opening her thoughts. Director Sharpe’s mind was careful and ordered. Elmira’s was clenched and uncertain. Dor could feel the Infinite Library just on the other side of reality. She looked at Elmira and held out a hand. Just like in Mr. North’s reading room, Elmira’s hand was warm and dry. They stepped up to one of the filing cabinets and then through it. The space unfolded into the long rows of bookshelves of the Infinite Library. Dor felt her shoulders relax even as Elmira’s grip tightened.

Before them stretched a single aisle of bookshelves each filled with meticulous white boxes filled with meticulous manila file folders filled with meticulous typed reports. Dor knew all this without looking, via [Jean’s Telepathy]. She held the heart-shaped amulet before her and let the telepathy focus upon it. After only a few moments, she felt the familiar vibration of the multiverse and a golden path unfolded before her, snaking between bookshelves.

Elmira pulled her hand from Dor’s, and Dor startled. She hadn’t realized they’d still clasped hands.

“How do you do that?” Elmira asked, tone stiff.

Dor began walking and Elmira followed. She considered her words carefully. “I’ve found that if I meditate upon a particular artifact, sometimes it will resonate with a particular plane in the multiverse. I’m still working on it, but it’s gotten easier with practice.” A thought occurred to her. “How about you? How’d you find me at the orphanage?”

Elmira did not reply.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, following the twists and turns of the golden path. Dor looked at the other girl out of the corner of her eye. Elmira’s expression was set, her shoulders stiff. Dor felt a sudden irrational urge to turn the other girl over her knee and spank her for her petulance, but squashed it. She remembered the embarrassment of spanking young Ben Tennyson when it wasn’t her place, of all the unfair spankings she’d received growing up. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could wrestle the other girl over her knee without cooperation and didn’t want to instigate a fight.

Elmira continued to say nothing.

Dor was grateful when the golden path took a sudden left turn and the Library opened into their destination. She stepped through quickly, not wanting to linger on those thoughts. Elmira stepped through right behind her.

The room they found themselves in was a large, well-appointed office with floor to ceiling bookshelves along one wall through which they had entered. A large, wooden desk, ornately carved and polished to a shine, was centered in the room.

The woman sitting at the desk was tall and thin with hard, green eyes and strawberry blonde hair going white at the temples. She sat in a tall-backed chair with her back to a panel of windows overlooking expansive and well-tended grounds several stories below. She was clad in a high-necked, long sleeved uniform of deep rose pink over pale, creamy white. She stood when they entered, and her skirts ruffled. She turned her hard eyes on them, lips pursed, and with a gesture, summoned a wand. It was thick and stout with a polished yellow gem at its end.

“Intruders!” She didn’t shout, but her voice was resonant and carried.

Dor felt Elmira tense next to her and willed the other girl to wait lest she fill the room with fire.

The girl in the chair across the desk from the hard-eyed woman shifted to look and Dor immediately recognized Queenie Heart, her small round face, her chubby frame, her oh-so-sweet smile. There was no sign of the keyblade.

A moment later, the doors to the office opened with a bang and a small platoon of soldiers entered. They were uniformly short, thickly muscled, clad in loose white pants, dark blue vests, and a white turban with a red spotted pattern. Each carried a thick-handled spear. They had a uniform look about them, same pale skin, same strong jaw, same dark eyes.

There were five of them, and they formed a semi-circle, walling Dor and Elmira off from the rest of the room. Dor held up her hands in gesture of peace. She looked from the guards to the woman in pink and back again.

“We didn’t mean to intrude,” Dor said calmly. She knew, if she had to, she could simply step back and return to L-Space, pulling Elmira with her. She knew the people here could do little to harm her before she could escape. She quite nearly did just that, but she didn’t want to give up. Even though Director Sharpe didn’t want them putting themselves at risk, Dor remembered what Bahamut had said about trying to help.

The hard-eyed woman waited another moment before she lowered her be-gemed wand and raised an eyebrow at Dor. “How did you get in here?”

Dor looked from her to Queenie to Elmira. She needed to stay long enough to find out what Queenie had done with the keyblade, but she was bad at lying.

“Magic,” Dor said, deciding on the truth. “Libraries are a sort of pathway for me. We didn’t mean to intrude. I promise. We were simply looking for…” And she hesitated. She needed to talk to Queenie, but she didn’t think the other girl would admit to her theft, especially with the hard-eyed woman fixing them all with her stare.

Queenie stood then. “Pardon me, Headmistress Hazel,” she said in her high-pitched, almost winsome voice, giving a brief curtsy. She wore a simple white gown with a broad, scarlet sash at the waist and a black vest with a subtle heart pattern at the cuffs. She wore shiny black ankles boots and black leggings.

“I hope it is not rude of me to speak up, but I suspect that these two are not unlike myself and that they’re here to petition for admittance to Academy Magyck. Though I suspect, given their clothes,” she looked them up and down disdainfully, “they are not of a Royaline. Perhaps they’re here to learn?”

Dor was wearing a pair of jeans and her Hogwartian shirt and tie. Elmira wore dark slacks, white buttonup, and a dark suit jacket, much as Director Sharpe had. Dor didn’t think either of them looked bad, but blushed at Queenie’s assessment all the same.

“Is that correct?” Headmistress Hazel snapped her voice at the two of them.

“Yes,” Dor said quickly. She was grateful to Queenie for having provided a solution and curious as to why she’d spoken up.

“I see. And is Ms. Heart correct in that the two of you are of bastardlines?”

Dor was uncertain of the implications of the word, but she took the woman’s meaning. “Yes,” she said quickly. “And again, I want to apologize—”

The woman, Headmistress Hazel, made a sharp gesture with her wand, cutting Dor off. “What are your names?”

Dor looked at Elmira, whose jaw was clenched, then back at the headmistress. “I am Dorothy Alice Wendy Grimoire. And this is my… this is Elmira Gulch.”

Headmistress Hazel nodded. “I suggest, Ms. Grimoire, that in the future you use a more appropriate doorway.” She gave a curt nod, as though none would presume to disagree. She looked around the room, then banished her summoned wand with a flourish and a sparkle of pink light.

“Very well. Come with us to the amphitheater and show off your innate form. As bastards, you’ll be assigned to Zed Team. I hope that won’t be an inconvenience?” Her tone did not care whether it was an inconvenience or not.

“Innate form?” Elmira said. Dor thought she detected a tremor of nerves in the other girl’s voice.

Headmistress Hazel raised an eyebrow. “If you can display an innate form, you are a descendant of the Jumpman line and welcome to learn here. If you cannot, then you are a trespasser, a spy of the Koopa Empire perhaps, and you shall be incarcerated until the time of your trial and execution.” She snapped her fingers and the spear-wielding guards shouldered their spears and marched to the door. One of them opened it and Headmistress Hazel strode from the room without looking to see if they followed.

Queenie’s grin grew. “Come along, darlings. I can’t wait to see what happens next.” She giggled and curtsied at them then followed Headmistress Hazel, almost skipping.

Dor took a breath and followed Queenie, Elmira hot on her heels.

“I don’t have an innate form,” Elmira whispered as they made their way through an ornately appointed hallway. “I can’t transform.” She hurried to keep pace with Dor.

Dor nodded and considered. She wasn’t excited about the idea of being taken prisoner, but reminded herself she could easily planeswalk away before any trial or execution.

“Can you do that trick where your eyes glow orange and summon a bunch of fire?”

“That only happens when I’m angry.”

“Aren’t you always angry?”

Elmira glared at her. “Couldn’t we just leave?”

Dor nodded. “Without a library, it’ll be undirected, but I can do it. I feel like we should at least try to talk to Queenie, but if you really want to leave, I can take you back to the Time Bureau.”

“I… No. You’re right.”

Elmira sounded like she was choking. Dor chanced a glance at her and found the other girl red-cheeked.

Presently they arrived at a door clearly marked: Amphitheatre, Stage Left. Headmistress Hazel opened the door and they entered onto the wing of a stage, dimly lit and hung with curtains. Just beyond was an empty wooden stage and beyond that a darkened auditorium filled with the students and staff of the Academy.

Headmistress Hazel took center stage and the crowd silenced. She took a moment to sweep the shadowy crowd with a look. She was impeccable, deep pink jacket straight and unwrinkled, pale cream skirts hanging just so about her ankles, strawberry blonde hair in a meticulous braid.

“Welcome, ladies, to another semester here at Academy Magyck. It is so very good to see those returning to our halls, and welcome, again, to our new students. Each of you is a recognized daughter of the Jumpman Royaline and I expect each of you to behave as such: poised and confident, competitive and cooperative, the backbone of the Allied Kingdoms. You will compete with each other and with yourselves, you will apply yourselves to the academics of magic, you will bond with your cousins more strongly than any other family.”

Headmistress Hazel paused and there was polite applause. When she raised her hands, silence resumed. “And now, it is my very great pleasure to introduce you to three new students at Academy Magyck. The first, some of you have met. She is recently returned from exile imposed by her father, Leonid Popinski.” There was a grumbling murmur at that and Headmistress Hazel allowed it. “Daughter of that disgraced man and a servant of the house, please welcome Ms. Quincy Heart.”

Dor and Elmira looked at Queenie who ignored them in favor of beaming at the crowd. Headmistress Hazel backed up to give Queenie the floor. Queenie took center stage.

“Thank you, Headmistress Hazel, for allowing me, a previously unknown daughter of the Jumpman Royaline, a chance to present myself to my cousins. My name is Quincy Heart, daughter of a lowborn servant. I lived with her, with only infrequent visits from my father Duke Leonid Popinski. I understood my existence was a secret and I was to be quiet and behave myself. But then I started to show some magical talent and was sent away.”

There was more grumbling at this.

“But now I’m returned, and all of you have been so lovely, so kind, so welcoming. So, now, without further ado, my innate form.”

She raised her hand above her head. Light shone in her palm, twinkling, sparkling. Then the light extended in a brief, sharp moment, and coalesced into the form of the keyblade. There was another muted flash, and Queenie’s clothes changed.

Dor exchanged a look with Elmira.

Queenie’s clothes were the same cut and colors, but somehow everything a bit more. Her snow-white skirts were shorter, just above the knee, her legs were clad in night-black tights. Her boots were knee high with multiple buckles to secure them. Her scarlet vest was snug and accentuating with little white hearts at collar, hem, and cuff. Her hair was pulled back into a sweeping bun. She was a little taller, a little broader, just a little more in every way.

The keyblade, too, had transformed. The hand guard was smooth and swooping, the shaft was pale pink, and the key-plate was instead a bright red heart, the point of which thrust perpendicular to the shaft, making for a bladed spike were it wielded like a weapon.

Queenie’s transformation was met with applause from the gathered and Headmistress Hazel nodded approvingly. Queenie flourished the keyblade and gave a deep curtsey before another brief flash of light, the hint of a giggle, and the keyblade was banished, her costume returned to normal.

“Thank you,” Queenie said, her voice carrying. “Thank you so much.”

As the applause subsided, Queenie returned to where Dor and Elmira stood. She grinned at them.

“Do the two of you have innate forms?” Queenie asked quietly, tone intensely curious. “I wonder. It will be interesting to see. I hope you do. I hope you get to stay and play. I’m planning to burn it all down, you know.”

Dor blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected such a blunt admission of violence.

“Are you really from here?” Dor asked.

“I am. And I hate them. I hate them all. Their negligence killed my mother.” Her tone remained high and sweet. “You can tell them if you like, but they won’t believe you. My father is loathed here, and they’re so glad to have a long-lost cousin returned to them.”

Headmistress Hazel’s voice interrupted them.

“And now, as does occasionally happen, we have a pair of girls whose lineage cannot be confirmed. Nonetheless, I have seen evidence of their power and should they now successfully demonstrate an innate form, shall be admitted to Academy Magyck.” She looked their direction and pointed at Elmira. “Ms. Gulch. If you please.”

Elmira froze. Dor could see her whole body stiffen, eyes wide, breathing shallow and quick. Dor gave the other girl a nudge. Elmira nudged her back.

“Get out there,” Dor whispered.

“I can’t.” Elmira’s voice was a croak.

“How delightful.” Queenie giggled.

“Do you want to run?” Dor asked, ignoring Queenie. “I can take us to the Infinite Library. But then we’ll have to tell Director—”

“No.”

“Then get out there.”

“You better do something,” Queenie said. “Hazel’s getting suspicious.”

Headmistress Hazel’s expression hardened, like a stone angel prepared to pass judgment. Just as she looked about to march their way, Dor acted. She popped her palm against Elmira’s backside. The fabric of the black slacks was smooth against her palm and Elmira’s bottom was surprisingly soft.

Elmira bit off a yelp and spun about, eyes blazing orange.

Dor clamped down on her panic. “Good, now go out there and show them.”

Elmira’s fumed silently for several breaths, the air around her shimmering. Dor looked past her at Headmistress Hazel, who’s expression had turned speculative. Then Elmira turned and stomped out to center stage. Traceries of heat drifted in her wake. Headmistress Hazel moved to the side of the stage, giving Elmira the spotlight.

“Well now,” said Queenie and nudged Dor with her shoulder in a companionable manner. “I had no idea you were so domineering.”

Dor focused on Elmira.

For moments, Elmira only smoldered, eyes glowing orange. Then, in a burst of heat that hit Dor like a punch to the gut, her whole body burst into flame. Whatever the stage was made of held up to the flames. Dor felt a shiver of magic protect the audience. Several moments later, the fire flickered and died, revealing Elmira, breathing hard, naked and pink, like she’d suffered a mild sun burn.

The crowd tittered, but gave polite applause.

“A fire form. Very good, Ms. Gulch. You may go… find some clothes.” Headmistress Hazel’s amplified voice cut through the applause.

Elmira looked down at herself and her skin shifted redder. She walked toward Dor and Queenie hurriedly, but refused to cover herself. Dor reached for her mindpocket and her small store of clothes, gathered from across the multiverse. She took hold of the soft, terry cloth robe she’d gotten from Xavier’s Institute. She tried not to stare at Elmira, looking so very pink and smooth and vulnerable; her wide, dark nipples; her smooth, fine body hair; her gently swelling hips. The only other time she’d seen Elmira nude was when Mr. Quillon had her bent over the arm of a couch. Dor swallowed hard at the memory and held the robe out to Elmira who snatched it from her.

“Happy?” Elmira grumbled.

“We can run away any time you want,” Dor replied. She wanted to stay. She wanted to keep Queenie from hurting people, but this was Elmira’s mission more than it was hers.

Elmira pulled the robe on and Dor bit her tongue on any further comment. She well remembered her own embarrassment at ending up naked after shapeshifting.

“…Ms. Dorothy Grimoire.”

Headmistress Hazel’s voice brought Dor to herself.

She did her best to fake confidence and made her way to center stage where the Headmistress gestured. She could feel the eyes of the students and staff upon her, the gentle murmur of their whispers, the gentle judgment of their attitudes. She tried to swallow and found her throat dry. She decided she did not like being the center of attention, but before she could freeze as Elmira had, she let the grimoire in her mind flip open to the gold-bordered cards and reached for [Dor’s Dragonform].

Chapter Text

The stunned gasps, shouts of alarm, and spontaneous applause rang in Dor’s ears. She took slow, careful breaths as she looked around the amphitheater, the girls and women of the Academy at once in awe and slightly terrified. She was careful only to move her head when she looked over her shoulder at Headmistress Hazel who, with upraised eyebrows, gave a small nod. Dor made sure to give a mental tap to both [Dor’s Dragonform] and [Dor’s Mindpocket] when she shifted back to her human form, so she did not end up naked on stage as Elmira had.

Changing shape was quite nearly second nature for her now. She liked the way it felt, shifting back from quadruped to biped, standing up as her tail and wings shrank into her body, as her scales receded and her neck shortened.

“Dragon form is a rare form indeed. I am impressed, Ms. Grimoire. Please, rejoin Ms. Gulch and Ms. Heart.”

Dor did as she’d been told, only to find the other girls staring at her.

“What the hell was that?” Elmira hissed.

“That was… impressive,” Queenie said, voice just a hint breathy.

Dor shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ve been… collecting spells.”

A hubbub arose from the gathered as they were dismissed. Dor and the other girls turned to face Headmistress Hazel.

“Ms. Heart, your team leader will await you in the hall. Ms. Grimoire and Ms. Gulch, I will introduce you to your team now. If you’ll follow me.” She turned, not waiting more than a moment.

Dor and Elmira hurried to follow Headmistress Hazel down the stairs, off the stage, and into the auditorium. Students and staff alike made way for them as they walked up the aisle and out into an entry hall. This space, like every space they’d seen so far at Academy Magyck was big and opulent and meticulous. The tile floors were polished, the displayed busts were dustless, the lanterns hanging from the ceiling were bright.

Headmistress Hazel stopped and the two of them stopped with her. After several moments, she spotted who she was looking for and snapped her fingers. A ripple of silence spread from her and faces turned to give their attention.

“Beatrice Isperia.”

Headmistress Hazel snapped twice and pointed at the spot in front of her. Everyone who wasn’t Beatrice made way, and a small, slight girl with pale skin and honey yellow hair came forward. She had big blue eyes, a button nose, and small pink lips. She couldn’t have been more than eleven years old and wore a simple yellow gown with warm brown trim.

“Yes, ma’am?” The girl, Beatrice, curtsied. 

“This is Dorothy Grimoire, the new leader of Zed Team.”

“New leader?” 

Beatrice blushed when Headmistress Hazel gave her an arch look.

“I think a girl who can enter my office by magic, and turn into a dragon, is a more suitable leader than a timid ten-year-old. Unless you want to challenge her to reclaim the role?”

Beatrice looked at Dor with wide eyes, swallowed hard, and shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

“Show her and Ms. Gulch to your cottage. You’ll be their guide this semester. The toadkin have already provided the necessaries.”

Beatrice curtsied again. “Yes, ma’am.”

Headmistress Hazel left them and the room watched her leave, not quite heaving a sigh of relief. 

“Um…” Beatrice cleared her throat and Dor turned her attention to the girl. “Ms. Grimoire, may I introduce rest of Zed Team?” She gestured behind her at a trio of girls who looked no older than her. She looked at Dor and after several moments, Dor realized Beatrice was waiting for permission.

Dor gave a quick, uncomfortable nod. “Of course.”

“This is Tiana VonKaiser of the Sarasa Royaline. She is granddaughter of pugilist James Lee and heir to the VonKaiser lands in the east. She is a frog form.” A dark-skinned girl with curly black hair and wearing a pale blue dress stepped forward and curtsied.

“Nice to meet you,” said Dor.

“Ma’am,” Tiana replied.

Dor bit her tongue and let Beatrice continue.

“This is Margaret Lombardi of the Sarasa Royaline. She is daughter of the shapeshifter Peregrine Lombardi and a member of House Lombardi. She is a specter form.” The second girl had small features and straight, dark hair pulled into two pigtails. She wore a white dress with pale pink highlights.

“And finally, Cheryl Toadstool of the Toadstool Royaline. She is granddaughter of Roll Wright, the famous inventor, and daughter to Esther Nidorina, the famous explorer. She is a double form.” The third girl had bright red hair and flushed cheeks. She wore a green dress and a shy demeanor.

“It’s nice to meet you, all of you,” Dor said.

The girls curtsied.

Dor glanced at Elmira who shrugged.

“You didn’t introduce yourself, Bea,” Tiana said, voice soft. She looked at Dor with an apologetic expression. “Bea’s an expert in the genealogy of the Jumpman Royalines, so she’s best suited to introductions.”

Beatrice blushed. “Of course, pardon me, ma’am.” She curtsied at Dor. “I am Beatrice Isperia of the Aurora Royaline. I am daughter of Ith Isperia the Mazemaster. I am a wasp form.”

Beatrice curtsied and Dor knew she’d quickly grow tired of that.

“I’m Dorothy Grimoire. You can all me Dor.” She gestured at Elmira, who she could feel still radiating warmth. “And this is Elmira Gulch.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Beatrice curtsied again and the other three followed her lead. Dor was about to ask her to stop doing that, but Beatrice turned and gestured for them to follow. “This way, please. I will show you to our cottage.” She turned to go, but waited for Dor to start following before leading the way. The other three girls trailed along, just behind them.

Curious looks and whispered conversation followed them down the richly appointed, meticulously maintained hallways. Dor remembered being looked at and whispered about at St. Bridget’s. She’d been the weird one, the odd one out, the girl who was spanked for her imagination. But she found the memory didn’t make her shrink. Instead, she felt unconcerned, confident. It was a strange, new feeling.

Presently, they exited onto a gardened courtyard with stone benches, flowering plants, and bright mosaics. 

“That was the Hazel Academic Building we just left, named for our illustrious headmistress and the founder of Academy Magyck,” Beatrice said. She gestured at the courtyard before them. “And this is the Peach Central Courtyard, named for Her Majesty, Queen Peach Toadstool, the Great Unifier, the Koopaslayer, and the progenitor of the Toadstool Royaline. Academy Magyck has a large campus. Most of it can be reached on foot, but Peach Central Courtyard is home to an array of warp pipes, each of which leads to a node on Academy property, no matter where it is in the Allied Kingdoms.”

They wended through the courtyard past secret gardens and tended rosebushes and even an orchard with careful rows tended by folk like those who’d served as guards in Headmistress Hazel’s office. They all looked the same: short, thickly muscled, pale skin, strong jaw, dark eyes. They were clad differently though, in rough-spun pants and leather aprons. Their white turbans were marked with green circles rather than red. One of them met her gaze and Dor nodded in greeting. She received a startled look in return.

They entered a plaza of pale grey paving stones interspersed with deep green diamonds at regular intersections. At the far end of the plaza was a perfectly circular doorway, or perhaps a portal as there was no door. The portal was a green metal that shone gently in the late afternoon sun. It was nearly twice as tall as Dor. The opening led to a tunnel that quickly became shrouded in darkness. 

“This is a warp pipe,” Beatrice said. “I’m sure you’ve seen them around, but if you’ve never been through one before, let me assure you that they’re perfectly safe. They simply tesseract space, allowing for quick travel. This one leads to the Village, where the student cottages are.”

Dor followed Beatrice into the warp pipe. It was perfectly round which made footing awkward until she got used to it. Their footsteps echoed gently with a metallic tinge. The darkness of the pipe closed around her quickly and a spine-itching sensation washed over her, setting her teeth on edge. It wasn’t as bad as Mr. Quillon’s portals, but it was reminiscent. A moment later, the sensation vanished and the darkness brightened ahead of them to reveal a grassy hillock overlooking a dale in which were nestled a couple dozen houses all with brightly tiled roofs and painted doors and potted plants. There were paths worn like winding roadways between the cottages, and occasional cul-de-sacs. 

Beatrice paused and looked over her shoulder at Dor and Elmira. “Here’s the Village.” Then she pointed at a house almost all the way to the far side of the dale. It had a bright, goldenrod door and matching roof tiles. It wasn’t as big as most of the other buildings in the village, but it also wasn’t what Dor would have thought of as a cottage. It was two stories tall and had an expansive backyard.

The sun set to their left as they wound their way down into the valley. The Village was cozy, picturesque, and Dor found herself relaxing as she followed Beatrice through the winding, grass-lined roads. She had to remind herself that she and Elmira had a goal: to retrieve the keyblade before Queenie could use it to nefarious ends. Even so, she was excited by the prospect of settling into the Village and starting classes at the Academy.

“I will, of course, give up the captain’s room to you, Ms. Grimoire,” Beatrice said. “Ms. Gulch can have the free room, and if one of the others is willing, I’ll share with them.”

“Oh,” said Dor. She’d been following along as Beatrice explained the Village and its amenities, and was caught off guard by the sudden concession. “You don’t have to do that,” Dor said.

“There are only five bedrooms in our cottage,” Beatrice explained. “It is rare that a team has more than five members.”

“In that case, Elmira and I can share,” Dor said with a quick glance at Elmira who rolled her eyes, then shrugged. “There’s no need to put you out of your room.”

Beatrice paused and considered Dor for several moments. Dor stopped and wondered if she’d made a faux pas, if Beatrice and the others would know she was an invader and report her to Headmistress Hazel, but then the girl put her hands behind her back and nodded.

“If that’s what you prefer, Ms. Grimoire. In that case, I should move into the empty room and the two of you should share the captain’s room as it’s larger.” She looked at Dor with a faint question to her eyebrows, and Dor nodded.

Once across the valley, they approached the cottage Beatrice had pointed out. There was a wooden sign at the path leading to the front door, carved with an ornate “Z”. Beatrice opened the bright yellow door and gestured for Dor and Elmira to enter.

The cottage was the epitome of cozy while still being quite roomy. The sitting room had a couch and several chairs, all well cushioned. The attached dining room had a circular table with matching wooden chairs. The kitchen beyond had stone countertops, a four-top stove, a brick oven, and a white refrigerator. A staircase on the back wall led up to what Dor assumed were the bedrooms.

“Ladies, it’s been a long day, and I recommend we all change for bed before…” Beatrice stopped herself and looked at Dor, blushing. “But I forgot myself, Ms. Grimoire. You’re the captain now. Please forgive me.”

Dor shook her head. “You know the protocol here better than I do.” She remembered how the day had begun, in her little apartment with Jean Grey in Japan and everything that had happened since. She stifled a yawn and said, “I would prefer it if you would call me Dor. Dorothy if you’re feeling formal. And all the curtseying is a bit much. I understand if it’s the culture of the school, but I’m… I suppose I’m not used to it.”

Beatrice nodded and tapped at her chin. “It’s customary to be more informal within the team’s cottage, but at school it’s expected to be deferential to those who outrank you.”

“I see. Thank you, Beatrice.”

Beatrice smiled and nodded. “You can call me Bea, if you like. I prefer it when formality isn’t called for, and since you outrank me you don’t need to call me by my full name unless you prefer it.”

“Everyone calls me Cherry,” Cheryl said. Dor looked at her. The little redhead had her arms crossed firmly. She didn’t speak with the same careful formality of Beatrice but she blushed just as hard when Dor looked at her.

“My friends call me Ana,” Tiana said. She curtsied when Dor looked at her.

“Magpie,” Margaret said. She gave only a half curtsey, and Dor got the impression she was a bit distracted.

The girls had arranged themselves before Dor and Elmira, and Dor took a moment to look them each in the eye, affixing them in her mind. Bea, the wasp form; Ana, the frog form; Magpie, the specter form; Cherry, the double form. She nodded.

“Very well, ladies. I think Bea’s suggestion is a good one. Elmira and I have had a long day and I think going to bed is an excellent idea.”

Beatrice held up a finger. “We’ll need to have a toadkin come and move a second bed into the captain’s room. The wardrobe in the captain’s room should have extra clothes that will fit the two of you, but we should meet down here in the sitting room until the toadkin are finished.”

Dor nodded. “All right.” 

The four let Dor and Elmira ascend the stairs first. Dor was growing a bit tired of the four younger girls deferring to her but reminded herself they needed to play along until they could get ahold of the keyblade. 

The upstairs was bisected by a hallway lit with lanterns hanging from the ceiling. They were small, but they, like everything else Dor had seen since coming to the Academy, were meticulously clean and well appointed. They were silver with frosted glass and glowed with a warm, homely light. There were two doors on either side of the hallway and one at the far end. 

Bea gestured at the last door. “That’s the captain’s room.” Then she opened a door on her right. “This was the spare room, so if there are no objections, I’ll take it.” 

The other three younger girls nodded, so Dor did as well. Then she and Elmira went down the hall to the captain’s room. She paused and looked at Elmira. 

Elmira shrugged. “You’re the captain, apparently.” 

“I’m surprised you went along with it,” Dor said, lowering her voice. 

Elmira snorted. “You’re obviously better at getting along with people than I am. Even though I have to bite my tongue every other minute, I’d like for this mission to be a success. Queenie, or Quincy, or whatever her name is, she’s unstable. She needs to be stopped.” 

Dor nodded and opened the door.

The room was large. A single double-wide bed stood under a window in the center of the far wall overlooking the front of the house. The bed was thick with pillows and comforters. A wardrobe stood against the left wall, tall, carved, and gilded. Another door was on the right wall. It stood ajar and the tiled floor beyond suggested a washroom. It was a bit like being back at Hogwarts. 

“This isn’t bad at all,” Elmira said, a begrudging tone to her voice. She went to the wardrobe and opened it to find several dresses in a variety of colors hung neatly upon hangers. Dor went to look over her shoulder. In a drawer at the bottom, they found socks, underwear, brassieres, and nighties. 

Elmira pulled one from the drawer and held it up. It was pale orange and looked soft. ”This is fine.”

Dor took her turn sorting through the drawer. On the one hand, she had plenty of clothes in her mindpocket neatly tucked in the laundry bag gifted to her by her Hufflepuff yearmates. On the other hand, it might look suspicious if she didn’t wear any of the clothes provided to them. She chose a pale lilac nightie. 

Elmira turned her back to disrobe, so Dor did the same. With a thought, she banished her clothes to her mindpocket, then pulled her new nightgown over her head. She kept her back turned until Elmira cleared her throat. 

“Well,” the other girl said. “Do I look like an absolute prude?” She held her arms out. The wide, drooping sleeves fell to just before her wrists, the hemline to just below her knees. It was a pale orange, like sherbet. 

Dor shrugged. “I think it’s cute. Besides, mine is the same.” 

“Yes, but you’re… you. You’re supposed to be demure. I’ve a reputation to maintain.” 

“Do you?” said Dor.

“I suppose you don’t know?” Elmira’s tone was halfway between disbelief and hope. “The others didn’t tell you? They called me a slut. They assumed I was having sex with Mr. Quillon at every opportunity.” 

“Oh… I didn’t realize…” 

Elmira waved a hand nonchalantly. “I did, of course. But not nearly as often as they seemed to think. But… well…” Elmira cleared her throat uncomfortably and looked away. She crossed her arms like she was trying to hide behind them. “I liked him at first, ya know? And I thought he… Well, anyway.” She cleared her throat again. “Let’s go back downstairs,” Elmira left before Dor could say anything. 

When they got downstairs, they found a pair of the strange folk Dor had seen tending the garden, their white turbans marked with brown circles. 

“These are toadkin,” Bea explained. “They do all the manual labor here at the Academy. You may go ahead,” she said to the toadkin. The two nodded to her before going upstairs, their footsteps heavy. 

The others sat in the well-cushioned chairs of the sitting room, so Dor sat on the couch and Elmira joined her, though at the other end. The girls had all changed into nighties: yellow for Beatrice, blue for Tiana, white for Margaret, and green for Cheryl. It seemed they each had color preference. Dor wondered if it was tied to their families or their magic or something else. 

They sat in silence while the toadkin worked upstairs. They could hear the opening and closing of doors, the thump and shuffle of moving furniture, and heavy footfalls. The quiet grew to awkwardness but soon enough the toadkin were done and came back down the stairs. They nodded at Bea before leaving, all without a word. 

Beatrice stood up and Dor was about to follow suit, assuming it was bedtime.

Bea cleared her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. “Well, I suppose there’s only the spanking left, and then we can all go to bed.”

Dor blinked in shock and glanced at Elmira who’s expression was no less surprised. The sun had set and the shadows in the valley grew thick. Their sitting room was lit with the same silver lanterns hanging from the ceiling as did in the hallway upstairs. 

“Wait, who’s getting spanked?” Dor asked.

Beatrice blinked at her. She twisted at the waist, looking very small. Her hands slid down her back to rest at her waist and her fingers splayed to cover her bottom as though protecting it. Dor was certain the gesture was unconscious. 

 ”I am, of course,” Beatrice said. “It is expected that whenever a captain loses her position that she is punished by the new captain. Spanking is traditional but if you prefer I could…” She paused to clear her throat. “I could fetch a paddle. Or even a… a cane.” Her voice squeaked on the word and her pale cheeks flushed crimson. 

“No,” said Dor. “That won’t be necessary.” 

Beatrice sighed. “Thank you, Ms. Dorothy. Shall I lay across your lap? Or perhaps the arm of the couch?” 

Dor shook her head. She was developing firm thoughts on the appropriateness of spankings over the course of her adventures. “I’m not going to spank you, Beatrice.”

“But it’s expected.” 

“Who expects it?”

“Everyone.”

Dor looked at the other girls. Cherry didn’t look happy about it and Magpie’s nod was small, but they all nodded. Elmira looked stony-faced.

Dor looked back at Bea. “Do you want me to spank you?”

“Well no, but…”

Dor held up a hand. “If the expectation is that you are punished for your demotion, then I declare that your punishment is to help Elmira and me navigate life here at the Academy. I will not be spanking you tonight.”

“Oh. Well.” Bea looked around at the others, blushing furiously. Then she looked at Dor and curtsied, spreading her yellow nightie wide and bowing low. “Thank you, Captain.”

Elmira claimed the bed on the right, so Dor sat on the bed to the left. The beds were set with their headboards against the far wall, either side of the circular window overlooking the front of the house. Points of light glowed through the little dale in which the Village nestled. Dor crossed her legs, tucking them under her, and looked out the window. Elmira sat with her back to the headboard, staring at the far wall. Between their beds was a nightstand with a little silver lantern that could be turned up or down with a knob on the base.

“This is… odd. Right?” Elmira said, still not looking at her.

“How do you mean?”

“I was horrible to you. And now we’re sharing a room at a rich girls’ school for magic. You don’t have to do this. You could go anywhere in the multiverse.”

Dor shifted her gaze from the dark of night beyond the window to Elmira, who steadfastly did not look at her.

“Do you want me to take you back to the Time Bureau?” Dor asked.

“Kind of. But… When Director Sharpe offered me a spot as a cadet, I felt like I…” Elmira stopped and cleared her throat. “I did some awful things for Mr. Quillon. Maybe I can make up for that. A little.”

Dor nodded even though Elmira wasn’t looking at her.

“Whatever,” Elmira said. “It doesn’t matter. I…” She looked at Dor. “Just promise you’re not going to blast me with sparks again, all right?” 

“So long as you promise not to burn the building down.” Dor retorted.

Elmira huffed a laugh. “Right. Sorry about… sorry.” She slipped under the covers and turned on her side, away from Dor. “Turn the light out, would you?”

Dor regarded the other girl, no more than a shapeless mound under the covers, then reached over and turned the knob to douse the lamp.

The bed was just as comfortable as the one she’d had at Hogwarts. The room was cool as she pulled the comforter up to her chin. It was strange to share a bedroom with Elmira Gulch, the orange-eyed villain who’d chased her from plane to plane, but she felt fairly certain she had nothing to fear. Elmira had been manipulated and bullied by Mr. Quillon, just as Dor had, and apparently worse. Away from his influence, Dor believed the other girl really did want to do right by Director Sharpe and the Time Bureau. 

Even so, Dor pulled the [Guardian Plushie] Mr. North had given her from her mindpocket and set it on the bed beside her.  

Chapter Text

There was no uniform at Academy Magyck like there was at Hogwarts. Instead, the girls of the noble families of the Allied Kingdoms were allowed to wear whatever they pleased, so long as what they pleased was proper attire for a noble young lady. That meant skirts to at least her knees, stockings up under the hemline, no bare shoulders, and sleeves to at least the elbows. At her discretion, the young lady could wear vest, tie, and gloves, but everything had to conform to an aesthetic of fashion Dor didn’t understand.

Fortunately, their housemates were happy to help.

Bea, Ana, and Cherry helped Dor pick out a set of clothes from those provided in the wardrobe. Magpie offered a few helpful comments but largely seemed focused elsewhere.

The underwear was more substantial than the panties she’d grown used to at Hogwarts and Xavier’s. They were more like what she’d worn at St. Bridget’s, but of finer weave and superior craft. Dor chose a purple pair to match the dress, a simple gown of amethyst with golden accents to match the scales of her dragonform.

When it was Elmira’s turn, Dor was worried the other girl would be rude, but Elmira just blushed and wore what the girls recommended, dressing in a simple red dress with pleated skirts that were yellow and orange on the inside of each pleat, resembling fire when she moved.

There was a small kitchen downstairs, but most meals were taken in the Sarasa Great Mall where there were a variety of cafes, restaurants and boutiques, offering a wide selection. Beatrice led them through the Village to the warp pipe on the other side of the dale. They were joined by other girls of the Village, and Bea introduce them as they went.

“That’s Team C, led by Patricia d’Coolette, tanooki form,” Bea said, pointing out a group. “Patricia is of the Toadstool Royaline and is in her tenth and final year here at Academy. Fifty two credits, six pennants but no championships, two trials.”

Dor didn’t understand the specifics, but the implication was clear enough, Patricia d’Coolette, clad in a dark orange gown marked with artistic stripes, had accomplished a lot at Academy.

Bea pointed out another group, significantly younger than the previous. They were lead by a girl who, though as elegantly dressed as any other, still managed to look a scruffy with her curly hair unbound and her shoes unpolished.

“That’s Zylo Toadstool of the Toadstool Royaline. She’s daughter of Aidan Toadstool, the renowned paladin, and is a first cousin to our very own Cherry Toadstool.”

Dor glanced at Cherry who blushed and nodded.

“Zylo leads Team O, second to last, just above us. She’s a wolf form.”

Dor briefly considered the implication of naming teams based upon letters, of naming the last team Zed even though Z didn’t come after O. She wondered about the nature of the language spoken here, knowing her adaptive linguistics allowed her to understand it. She only heard it as a different language if she concentrated. She wondered if the alphabet here was similar to English.  

Finally, Bea gestured at the group just ahead of them. “That’s G Team, lead by Vivian Popinski of the Aurora Royaline, granddaughter to the pugilist Wodka Popinski and daughter of the Sandiego Thief. This is her first year as a captain. She’s a dancer form.”

The girl at the head of G Team wore skirts that flowed with her every move. Her hair curled and bounced around her face. She looked effortlessly beautiful and Dor found herself blushing.

“Popinski,” Elmira said. “That’s the same name Queenie…” She cleared her throat. “The same name Quincy’s dad has, right?”

“That’s correct,” said Bea. “They are first cousins. Unfortunately, Leonid Popinski has a terrible reputation. He…” she cleared her throat delicately. “He has pressured many women into relations. Some speculate there are many more like poor Quincy, children he fathered by… by force.”

They wended though the Village and up the other side of the dale to the warp pipe. The warp pipe echoed with their footfalls and the teeth-itching trip was no more pleasant than before. They emerged in Peach Central Courtyard where Bea led them to another warp pipe. Soon they emerged in a courtyard before another beautiful, meticulous building of white-washed walls and red-tile roofs: Sarasa Great Mall. Dor asked Bea to choose where they ate, and the diminutive blonde led them through the glass front doors to Fruit Sweet, a cafe specializing in pastries, fruit jam, and mild tea. The six of them sat together a table. Looking over the menu, Dor recognized most of the letters, but the language was clearly not English.

“Classes begin at nine o’clock sharp,” Bea informed them once they were seated with their breakfasts. “I expect that will give us an hour in the morning to prepare for the day and an hour for breakfast. Our first class is Fundamentals of Magic.” She glanced between Dor and Elmira. “Unless the two of you are already well practiced in the craft?”

Elmira shrugged and focused on her chocolate croissant.

Dor sipped at her coffee and nodded. “I’ve had some instruction, but not much. I’d be happy for the opportunity to learn fundamentals.” Dor enjoyed attending school. She’d loved her time at the Hogwarts library and her quarter at Tamagawa Minami had shown her she was good at it. The opportunity to continue attending class brought a genuine smile to her face.

“My guess is that Headmistress Hazel will have already drawn up your schedules,” Bea said. “But until we have them officially, I assume you two will attend the same classes as us. After Fundamentals of Magic...”

Dor paid attention, but focused on her strawberry tart. She was just considering whether to have a second when she noticed Queenie in the hallway outside their little cafe, a distracted look on her face. She was clad in a scarlet gown with black and white stripped stockings and shiny black shoes.

“Excuse me a moment,” Dor said, and slipped from the table.

Bea was describing the options for Elective courses during the sixth and final period of the day. She blinked at Dor. “Oh. Yes, um, of course…”

Dor emerged into the long hallway of highly polished tiles. Fruit Sweet was near the entrance to the long, vaulted hallway on either side of which were a variety of venues. Queenie saw her and smiled, round cheeks rosy.

“Oh, hello there, Dorothy. And good morning. Are you enjoying the bountiful breakfast options prepared by the indentured toadkin?”

Dor didn’t know what that meant, so she focused on the goal. “Good morning, Queenie. Or, Quincy, is it?

The other girl giggled and curtsied. “Quincy is my given name. You may use it if you like.”

“Right.”

Dor saw Quincy’s eyes flicker past her and felt Elmira approach from behind, a dry warmth threatening flashfire.

“Just give us the keyblade and we’ll leave,” Elmira said, voice a low growl. “You’ll never see us again, promise.”

Quincy smiled at them. “Give it to you? But why? So you can take it back to those insufferable bureaucrats at the Time Bureau? No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. My goal is to burn this wretched school and the corrupt aristocracy to the ground. And the keyblade is going to help me. Why would you even care to stop me? This isn’t your world. It isn’t your business.”

Dor thought about what Bahamut had said. “I can’t let you hurt people.”

Quincy smiled at her. “You mean the way these people hurt me? The way they hurt all the common people of this land? The way they let my mother die?”

Dor had no response to that. “Please, give me the keyblade.”

Quincy cocked her head. “No.”

Elmira took a step forward and Dor put a hand out. She was surprised when Elmira stopped.

“I have something of yours,” Dor said. She reached into her mindpocket and withdrew the heart-shaped amulet she’d used to follow Quincy to this plane. She held it out, palm up, and watched the other girl’s eyes go wide, her jaw clench.

Quincy snatched the amulet from Dor’s palm.

“How did you get this?” Quincy’s tone lost the sing-song quality it usually held.

“You forgot it at the Time Bureau,” Elmira said

“I…” Quincy swallowed hard and for a moment, Dor thought she might agree to hand over the keyblade.

The moment was disrupted by a tall girl with strawberry blonde hair held back in an intricate braid. She had green eyes hard as agate. Her dress was pale yellow, almost cream, marked with harsh black lace at cuffs, hem, and neckline. She wore fingerless gloves and high-heels and a wide, black sash at her waist.

“What’s this, Quince?”

Quincy’s expression brightened and she curtsied at the girl with a smile. “Good morning, Ms. Marilyn. The bastardline girls were just accusing me of having stolen my keyblade.”

Marilyn’s face darkened and she fixed Dor and Elmira with a thunderous glare. “You dare? I ought to stripe both your backsides for such an affront to my team.”

Dor took a step back before she could stop herself. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. Her mind raced and her thoughts crowded.

“Pardon, miss.” Bea had joined them without Dor noticing. “As an Academy senior you are well within your rights, of course, to spank any girl your junior for a justified offense, but what if my new captain is correct?”

Dor glanced at the other girl. Bea had her head down, but stood straight; she blushed scarlet but her voice was steady.

Marilyn looked down at Bea, like a giant sneering at an insect.

Bea curtsied again, cheeks aflame. “Because, if it turns out Ms. Quincy’s sword is stolen, and you spanked a girl unjustly, Headmistress Hazel would be most displeased.”

Marilyn shifted her gaze from the small girl to Dor. This time, Dor was ready. She cast [Pince’s Catalogue] and felt her thoughts order themselves. She did not step back even under so fearsome a gaze.

“I suppose I could forego the stripes if you’re prepared to duel for the weapon?” Marilyn demanded, tone haughty.

“Yes,” said Elmira quickly. She looked at Dor. “You can turn into a dragon. Duel her and let’s end this.”  

Marilyn snorted derisively. “You’re Zed Team, you can’t enforce a duel upon a member of a higher-level team.”  

Quincy smirked.

“Then why ask…” Elmira started

“She could if she passes the trials,” Beatrice said quickly. She tossed an apologetic look at Elmira. “If Captain Dorothy passes all five trials, she could enforce a duel to prove Ms. Quincy is a thief.”

All four older girls looked at Beatrice who squirmed under their combined gaze. She blushed so hard her neck turned red.

“Very well,” said Marilyn. “I accept. If, before the end of the term, Ms. Dorothy Grimoire can pass all five trials, she may duel Ms. Quincy Heart for control of the keyblade. If, however, she cannot, I will spank each girl of Team Zed, on her naked backside, with whichever tool I deem most appropriate at the time.” She held out her hand with a small, satisfied smiled. “Unless you’d like to back down and take a spanking right now?”

Dor took Marilyn’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

Marilyn’s expression turned surprised, but only a moment. “Come along, Quince. We’re eating at A Waffle Lot.”

“Yes, miss,” Quincy said submissively and gave a small curtsy.

Dor watched them go, unsure what to make of Quincy’s behavior. She remembered the other girl as cruelly sadistic. The only time she’d met her before all this was when Mr. Quillon had been caning Elmira. But now, Quincy was at once prepared to hurt everyone here and yet meticulously polite and deferential. Was it an act? Was it genuine? What prompted the peculiar dichotomy?

“That was Marilyn Toadstool of the Toadstool Royaline,” Bea said, voice shaking faintly. “She’s the granddaughter of Cecil Toadstool, King of the Allied Kingdoms. Ms. Marilyn in line to be Queen one day. She’s Captain of Team B and a wasp form.”

Dor nodded. “Thank you, Bea. I wouldn’t have known what to say.”

Bea shook her head. “The trials are difficult, Captain. No one does them all in a single term. Most only ever complete two or three in their entire time at Academy. I’m afraid I’ve doomed us all to a thrashing from Ms. Marilyn.” She sniffled and tears slid down her cheeks.

Dor knelt before the girl and Bea blinked at her, more tears escaping.

“You haven’t doomed us, Beatrice Isperia. I know for a fact that Quincy stole that keyblade and I mean to recover it. And while I cannot promise that I’ll be successful, I do promise to do everything I can to protect you as your captain.”

Bea sniffled and nodded, then she hugged Dor impulsively, pressing her tear-streaked cheek against Dor’s neck. When she pulled back, she curtsied at Dor.

“Thank you, Ms. Dorothy.”

Dor stood and saw Headmistress Hazel looking at them. When their gazes met, Headmistress Hazel beckoned to her and Dor nodded.

“Why don’t you two go finish breakfast,” Dor said.

“Sure,” said Elmira, giving Dor a peculiar look. Then she put her hand gently on Bea’s shoulder and steered the small girl back to the café. Dor watched them, surprised at Elmira’s soft touch, then she approached the Headmistress.

“Ms. Grimoire, good morning. I can’t help but notice that young Ms. Beatrice Isperia is sitting with little discomfort this morning. Did you not spank her?” 

Dor nodded. She put her hands behind her back and considered what to say. A moment later, she settled on the truth because it was easier and she preferred it.

“Yes, ma’am. Beatirce informed me that she should be spanked, but it seemed unfair. Besides, I’ll need her and the others to guide me through the cultural expectations here at Academy.”

Headmistress Hazel pursed her lips. “So it’s not that you were soft on her, but that you want to be in her good graces?”

“It’s both, Headmistress. I want her help, but I also don’t want to be harsh. I don’t think I can be harsh.”

“I put you in charge of Zed Team. I expect you to motivate them.”

The headmistress’s look was steady, but neither angry nor disappointed, so Dor took another several moments to consider the situation.

“I have received many spankings, ma’am, and given more than a few. I’ve never led a team, but spanking someone under me just because she turns into a wasp rather than a dragon doesn’t strike me as motivating.”

Headmistress Hazel gave the barest of grins before the expression smoothed. “Very well. And what of the discussion between you and Ms. Marilyn Toadstool?”

Dor wasn’t sure she could tell Headmistress Hazel about the keyblade being stolen without outing Elmira and herself as foreigners and being jailed on suspicion of spying, so she decided to hedge a bit while remaining truthful.

“Ms. Marilyn thinks I’ve offended Ms. Quincy. I’m going to prove my innocence by duel, but to duel someone from a higher team I’ll have to pass the five trials.”

Headmistress Hazel’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “You’ve haven’t attended a single class yet and are already engaged in a matter of honor? And with the future Queen of the Allied Kingdoms?”

Dor blushed and ducked her head. “So it would seem, Headmistress. So… how does one go about passing the trials?”

Headmistress Hazel paused a moment, then withdrew a pair of folded papers from a pocket in her skirts. “To pass all five trials is rare, Ms. Grimoire. To pass all five in a single eight-week term has only ever been done once. They are difficult and dangerous, but, if you’re determined, I shall have the request sent to your cottage. In the meantime,” she held the papers out to Dor. “These are the schedules I’ve drawn up for you and Ms. Gulch.”

Dor took the papers. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

Headmistress Hazel withdrew a watch from the pocket of her waistcoat. “You have fifteen and one half minutes before your class starts, Ms. Grimoire. I suggest you collect your team and be on your way. It would not do to be late.”

Dor nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, falling into the formality expected, even giving a curtsy though she wasn’t sure she’d done it right.

Chapter Text

Dor was surprised at just how much the classroom looked much like any classroom at Tamagawa Minami. There were twenty-five desks, five rows of five, arranged in a precise grid facing a black chalk board. Each desk was accompanied by a simple wooden chair with no arms and a straight back. The hardwood floor was an interlocking herringbone design, polished to a shine; pale-stained wainscoting covered the lower third of the walls, and the windows on the far side of the room were tall and clear and smooth. Even so simple a room had an air of elegance.

Fundamentals of Magic was filled with girls clad in varicolored gowns. Bea explained that the class was typically reserved for newcomers.

“Even the four of us,” she gestured at herself, Ana, Magpie, and Cherry, “This is our first year at Academy, though we’ve received private tutoring in all manner of subjects, it’s tradition that we start with fundamentals. It is expected that we graduate from the class within three or four terms at most.” She cleared her throat delicately and nodded at Zylo, the curly-headed, scruffy girl she’d introduced as leader of Team O back in the Village. “It’s unexpected that a girl would spend more than a year and a half in the class.”

“You shouldn’t tease,” Cherry said, freckled cheeks faintly flushed.

“I didn’t mean to,” Bea said.

Cherry shrugged and looked away.

Dor was about to claim a desk at the front, but Elmira immediately went to the back corner of the room, furthest from the door, and slouched behind the desk there. The younger girls followed her and Dor bit her tongue. At least Elmira had chosen a desk by the windows. Dor sat catty-corner from Elmira and the others sat around them, their team clustering in the back left corner.

At the front of the room was a teenage girl with curly, silvery-blue hair pulled back in a tidy bun. She was clad in a dark blue dress with a pale cream bodice and gloves. She snapped her fingers as students were taking their seats and pointed at Zylo. “Up here.” And she pointed at the desk front and center. “I don’t want you hiding in the back.”

Zylo grumbled and stood and slouched her way to the indicated seat.

“That’s Amon Todadstool, of F Team, eagle form. She’s only sixteen, and this is her first year teaching. She’s Zylo’s older sister.” Bea whispered her explanation under the susurrus of the class.

Once Zylo was seated, Amon clasped her hands behind her back, stood up straight, and cleared her throat. The class quieted.

“Good morning, ladies. I am Amon Toadstool. I have received top marks in Aether Manipulation and Spell Indexing. Madame Luxanne, therefore, decided I’m ready to teach a Fundamentals class, and I will not disappoint her.”

Dor noticed when Amon flicked her gaze at Zylo.

“I know most of you are familiar with the basics, but we shall begin at the beginning, nonetheless.” She took a moment to scan the room, give a small nod, and take a breath. Despite her poised posture, Dor detected a faint shake to her breath. “Aether is a form of energy. It suffuses all of us, the world, the universe, even the multiverse if such a thing exists. But though it exists everywhere, only a few of us can access it. Accessing and shaping aether is a practice known as magic.”

Dor nodded along, eager attention on Ms. Amon Toadstool.

“For most of us, accessing magic is as simple as creating a personal metaphor. There are a dozen and a half methods for doing so: wizards prefer study and their metaphors tend toward books and libraries; druids prefer quiet moments and their metaphors tend toward plants and gardens; magicians prefer spectacle and their metaphors tend toward fire and storms. Though these methods are catalogued and studied, there are some who say that there are as many ways to cast, focus, and manipulate aether as there are those with the talent to do so.”

“The best way to develop a metaphor is by meditation and focus.”

Behind and to her left, Dor heard Elmira grumble under her breath.

“Sit up straight. Close your eyes.” Put your feet flat to the floor. Rest your hands upon the desk. Allow your fingers to relax. Empty your mind of all thoughts but for that feeling of magic. Some feel it in their belly. Some at their heart. Some at their throat. Find that feeling. Follow where it leads and focus upon it. Your metaphor will be something important to you. A place, a thing, a memory.”

Dor sat as instructed, closed her eyes, and was immediately in her mind pocket. Her grimoire sat closed upon the table in the center of the bookshelf-lined room. Across the table from where she sat was the door to the Infinite Library. It was a simple thing for her now.

She stayed only a moment, not wanting to disappear from the classroom to her mindpocket. There was a difference between looking into the space and going there. So, she kept herself seated in class, Amon Toadstool’s words washing over her, letting her mind flip through her grimoire, looking over each spellcard in turn.

For several minutes more, Ms. Amon talked them through meditation, taking longer and longer pauses between each guiding phrase. Dor did not know how much time had passed when Ms. Amon cleared her throat and said “That’s enough meditation for today. I would like for you now to turn to your classmates and describe your metaphor and the feeling of magic within you.”

Dor blinked her vision clear. She picked up her chair and turned it around so she could face the teammates behind her. Cherry and Bea, also in her row, followed her lead. The girls looked around shyly at each other. Even Elmira shifted uncomfortably. It was strange to Dor that she might be the most confident amongst the group. She wasn’t used to feeling so certain of herself.

“Would anybody care to go first?” Dor asked.

None of the girls spoke up, but Elmira said, “You’re the captain.”

“Very well.” Dor nodded. “My metaphor is a book bound in soft, brown leather. The pages are smooth, clear pockets that hold playing cards. Each playing card is a spell. I feel my magic between my shoulder blades first. It tickles up and down my spine. Sometimes I can feel my mind expanding when I might learn something new. Sometimes it will push down my arms to my fingertips when it wants to be cast.” Dor paused, considering, but decided not to go into detail about her mindpocket or the Infinite Library or how she developed spells by observing others.

“You seem pretty far along,” said Cherry, a slightly sour note to her voice.

Bea nodded. “If you perform well, you could probably skip this class entirely and move on to Intermediate Spellcraft. Since your metaphor is a book, you’re probably best suited to the wizard tradition.”

“Perhaps,” said Dor, “But I think I’d like to stay with my teammates.”

She was rewarded with grins from the girls, even Cherry, but Elmira snorted derisively before clearing her throat and shrugging uncomfortably.

Dor looked at Bea on her left. “Would you like to go next?”

Bea’s pale cheeks flushed, but she nodded. “Very well. I also feel my magic between my shoulder blades, just where my wings sprout when I’m in wasp form. Sometimes I feel it in my…” she blushed. “Near my tailbone, where the stinger sprouts. I’m not sure of my metaphor just yet, but it smells like honey and feel like a candle flame.” She gave Dor a small, questioning look, as though asking whether that was enough.

Dor nodded and looked at Ana, who sat facing Bea. “Thank you, Bea. Ana, would you like to go next?”

Ana sat up a little straighter and folded her hands upon the desk. “Certainly. My metaphor is a bowl of water. The bowl is smooth porcelain glazed in seafoam-green. Grandma Poppy made it for me when I told her my magic tasted like water. I don’t really feel my magic, at least not the way you two describe. It’s more that my skin prickles all over. But just a little. Like when it gets cold suddenly and you get goosebumps all over.” She coked her head like she was thinking for several moments, then nodded. “I think that’s it.”

“Thank you, Ana.” To Ana’s left was Magpie, who stared off dreamily. Dor looked at her. “If you would please?”

Magpie blinked again then gave a whisper of a giggle. “I feel my magic strongest in my throat.” Magpie’s voice was small and soft, more than a whisper, but Dor could not imagine the girl shouting. “I feel it there almost all the time. Sometimes it feels like it’s trying to escape and I need to hold it in. Sometimes it keeps me up at night. Sometimes, when I fall asleep, I’ll wake up outside my bed, wandering the long, dim, lonely hallways of my family’s estate.” She gave a small gasp as though waking from a dream and looked around at them again, her pale cheeks flushed a gentle pink and she looked down at her desk, pigtails falling in front of her shoulders. “I don’t know my metaphor. Maybe a candle. Maybe the moon.”

“Thank you, Magpie.” To Magpie’s left was Elmira. Dor looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Would you…”

Elmira folded her arms tight across her chest and rolled her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t have a symbol or whatever. All I know is my magic feels hot and when I get angry or excited,” she fixed Dor with a look, “I can make fire.”

“Thank you, Elmira.”

Facing Elmira, to Dor’s right, was Cherry, who didn’t wait for Dor’s invitation.

“My metaphor is an orchard, at the center of which is a giant fruit tree. It’s massive. Really, really big. So big the branches are like walkways. Each branch is a different fruit which is a different spell, I think. I haven’t been able to explore all of them yet and I’m only really very good at the double form. But once I turned into a squirrel.”

Magpie giggled and Elmira snorted derisively.

Cherry blushed hard, crossed her arms, and looked down at her desk. Her jaw clenched like she was trying hard not to cry.

“It’s okay,” said Dor. “I think turning into a squirrel could be enormously useful. Especially with an orchard for a metaphor.”

Cherry gave a tight shrug and wouldn’t look at her.

Ms. Amon clapped her hands thrice, the sharp sound cutting through the chatter, silencing them immediately. Chairs scraped as all turned to face her.

“All right, ladies. That’s enough for today.” She withdrew a pocketwatch and glanced at it. “Your next class begins in ten minutes. I strongly suggest you do not dawdle. Just because it’s the first day of term doesn’t mean tardiness is acceptable.” She clapped her hands again. “Off you go.”

The girls all stood.

“Not you, Zylo,” Ms. Amon said. “We need to talk.”

Because Dor and her team were furthest from the door, they had to wait as those ahead filtered through. Dor tried to look like she wasn’t paying attention to Ms. Amon scolding her little sister. She bit her tongue at the shiver down her spine.

“I can’t be late for practice,” Zylo objected.

“Don’t talk back to me, young lady, or I shall write to mother.”

Zylo grunted and dropped back to her seat with a thump. “Fine. We can talk.”

“Not like that, little sister.” Ms. Amon removed a straight-backed chair from its place in the corner of the room and set it down front and center.

“What? But I didn’t do anything.”

“Precisely,” Ms. Amon retorted. “You didn’t even pretend to meditate all class period. You are twelve years old. This is your third year at Academy. You should know your metaphor by now.”

Most of the class was already out the door, on their way. Dor was at the back of her group, the last to leave, and she lingered. It wasn’t that she wanted Zylo to get a spanking, nor that she thought the girl deserved it, but she’d not been spanked herself since Starswirl, and a secret, shameful part of her ached for it.

Ms. Amon sat and gave Zylo a stern, expectant look. Zylo whined, high-pitched but deep in her throat, then stood with a groan and went to where her older sister waited.

Just before she exited, Dor chanced a glance back and saw Zylo bent over Ms. Amon’s lap. She watched the older girl lift Zylo’s pale grey skirts to reveal simple white drawers. She was out the door before the first spank cracked off Zylo’s bottom.

Chapter Text

The next class was Academic Mathematica then Language and Rhetoric. For luncheon they returned to Sarasa Great Mall and a café Ana liked that specialized in seafood. Dor chose the clam chowder. After luncheon was Academic Sciences. It wasn’t all that different from math, language, and science back at Tamagawa Minami, and Dor positively glowed with excitement at her performance on the first day of class. She hardly even thought about Zylo’s spanking until Bea lead them to Lombardi Arena. They entered a lockerroom that smelled faintly of must and cleaner to a whole host of girls changing from their school gowns to workout gear.

They were met by Madam Florence, a tall, broad woman with short, iron grey hair and a strong chin.

“Team Zed. You’re scheduled for a match against Team O today. Go get changed and onto the fields.

Each team had a dedicated alcove with wide, full-length cubbies and an attached set of showers. They followed Beatrice to Team Zed’s alcove and the girls immediately began to undress. Dor had grown used to undressing in front of others, but she was still shy about it. She pulled off her gown and underclothes, hanging and folding them neatly to place in a cubby before picking up a stacked set of clothes waiting for her.

The workout clothes were just a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt, both in a greyish beige, the most neutral color Dor could think of. She didn’t think any of her bras or panties would fit underneath, so she peaked at the others for a hint of what to do and saw that they were pulling on the workout clothes with nothing underneath, so Dor followed suit.

The shorts were tight to her thighs but she pulled them on without struggle. They hugged her, and at first she thought they were too small, too tight, but they didn’t constrict her. In fact they were so comfortable and formfitting, it was almost like she wore nothing at all. The sleeveless shirt was much like a sports bra, hugging her form, leaving her midriff bare, both supportive and comfortable in every way she could think of.

Only she and Elmira had workout clothes of the neutral greyish beige. The other four had clothes of dark charcoal with cuffs and waistbands of a different colors, a color she was now coming to associate with each of them. Yellow for Bea, White for Magpie, Blue for Ana and Green for Cherry.

At a glimmer of light, Dor looked at Elmira to see her workout clothes shimmering faintly with magic. They darkened to the same charcoal grey as the rest of Team Zed, only the cuffs and waistband became a bright, fiery orange.

“It’s called morphcloth,” said Bea. It shifts to fit to whomever wears it and has an added effect of matching the wearer’s preference and personality.

Dor looked down at her own clothes, they too shimmering with magic, dark charcoal with a bright, purple trim.

They followed Bea from the changing room, down a hallway, and emerged onto the pitch of the stadium. For several moments, Dor was taken aback by just how large it felt. The seating rose around them as though they stood at the bottom of a giant, oblong bowl. The pitch itself felt massive. She had watched sports at Tamagawa Minami: baseball, volleyball, and football. And the stadiums were smaller, certainly, but she thought the pitch must be also. She wondered what events they held on these grounds when they weren’t used for physical education. 

As it was, the field had been divided into four smaller fields so multiple matches could be run at once. 

As they approached their designated field, they found Zylo and Team O already there, clad in their closefitting workout clothes. Zylo led her team in a series of stretches. She seemed comfortable here, focused, competent, and Dor wondered why that wasn’t reflected in the classroom.

“Team O,” Bea said quietly to Dor. “They’re led by Zylo Toadstool, who we’ve already met. Fur McCloud of the Toadstool Royaline, youngest daughter of Fennick McCloud, is a fox form. Camille, Ophelia, and Artemis Popinski are all of the Aurora Royaline. Camille is daughter of Nike Popinski and a fisticuffs champion named Dudley. She’s a pugilist form. Ophelia and Artemis are her cousins, daughter of Hecate Popinski, their father is unknown. Ophelia is a wand form, Artemis an archer form.”

Dor was continually amazed at how readily Bea had the information on their fellow students, where they fit in the sprawling family, who their parents were, and what their innate forms were. 

A shrill whistle caught their attention, and both teams turned to find Ms. Marilyn, leader of Team B, approaching with a large canvas duffle over one shoulder. She dropped it to the grass. 

“Team O, pink or yellow?” 

“Yellow,” said Zylo, almost immediately. She opened the duffle and pulled out a couple footballs before finding a stack of yellow jerseys and passed them around to her team. The jerseys were loose and draped over their forms, falling to just below their waists. Beatrice found a stack of pink and handed them around as well. There were only five. 

“I can sit out if you like,” Bea said. 

“I’ve never played football,” Dor said. “Maybe I should be the one to sit out?” She looked at Elmira who shrugged. 

“I used to play with some… with some of the others. You know, back home.” 

Dor had many questions but bit her tongue. “All right. What about the rest of you? Is there anyone who doesn’t want to play?” 

Bea, Anna, Cherry, and Magpie looked around at each other. 

Cherry spoke up. “We’ve all played before, but you’re the captain, so it’s your choice.” 

Dor looked at Ms. Marilyn. “Are we allowed to have substitutions?” 

“It’s within the rules,” Ms. Marilyn said, tone clipped. She barely looked at Dor.

Dor turned back to her team. “I’ll observe for now. Being able to substitute out anyone who’s getting tired could be an advantage.”  

“Enough dilly dallying,” Ms. Marilyn snapped. “Protections are in place, so powers are allowed. I want to see you pushing to yourselves.” Then she looked at Dor and pursed her lips. “But no turning into a dragon. The protections might not be strong enough.”

Ms. Marilyn blew her whistle and Teams O and Zed took their positions. Team O took the field confidently. Team Zed looked at each other, uncertain. Zylo trotted to midfield where she placed a ball at the centerline. It was clear she knew what she was doing and Dor was impressed by the difference in her confidence on the field rather than the classroom.

Ms. Marilyn blew her whistle again and Zylo wasted no time demonstrating her prowess. She darted forward with incredible speed, weaving effortlessly through between Bea and Ana. Her movements were a dance of grace and agility. Dor felt a tingle at her shoulders, not of learning, but recognition. This was Zylo’s magic. Magpie barely seemed to notice Zylo dribble past her and Cherry’s attempt to cut her off was easily passed.

Dor watched the four younger girls run after Zylo in a clump while Zylo’s Team O trotted along behind, spread out.

Elmira stood at the goal, grimacing. She bounced from foot to foot, sparks igniting at each bounce, before sprinting for Zylo. Zylo made to shift to the right and Elmira matched her, but it was a feint, and Zylo went left instead. With no one between her and the goal, Zylo reared back and shot. The ball thwapped into the back of the net.

Dor cupped her hands around her mouth. “Elmira! Stay on Zylo. You go where she goes. Everyone else, spread out, don’t clump together.”

Elmira shot her a look, eyes a sullen orange, then nodded curtly.

Ms. Marilyn blew her whistle and Zylo recovered the ball, passing it to the older girl who put it at the centerline.

“Bea, you take the kickoff,” Dor called.

Ms. Marilyn blew her whistle again and Team Zed made their way down the field. But Fur McCloud stole the ball as Bea passed to Ana and Team O pressed the attack. Elmira did as she’d been told, guarding Zylo, and Team Zed made a fight of it, but soon all the players were clumped around Team Zed’s goal and Zylo’s form shifted to that of a wolf. She collected the ball in her front paws, shifted to a human wolf hybrid form, and shot the ball into the goal.

Elmira shot a gout of flame into the air, venting her frustration.

Ms. Marilyn blew her whistle.

Play resumed.

Even with Elmira staying close to Zylo, the other girl was a better ball handler and knew just how to move to get past Elmira, to pass to her teammates, to take a shot. Zylo was exceptionally good at reading both her opponents and her team. She slipped seamlessly between form, sometimes a humanoid wolf, sometimes a full wolf, controlling the ball with feet and nose, passing and striking with a loping ease.

When Ms. Marilyn blew the final whistle, Team O erupted in cheers while Team Zed trudged to the sideline. The score was 6 – 0.

“You were no help,” Elmira muttered.

Dor nodded, looking past her team for a moment at Zylo. She seemed so much happier out her, on the field, than she had in the classroom. She looked back at Team Zed.

“It’s just one loss,” said Dor

“It was humiliating,” Elmira snapped.

“It was expected,” Bea said, and sighed. “We’re Team Zed because we’re the youngest, least experienced team on campus. We’re expected to lose.”

Elmira continued to grumble.

Dor nodded. “Well, from what I saw, you made them work for it. Even if we’re expected to lose, we should never just let it happen. And that’s what you all did this afternoon. I’m proud of you.”

Bea smiled. Cherry, Ana, and Magpie behind her looked at each other, surprised. Only Elmira continued to grump.

“Captains!” Ms. Marilyn shouted.

Dor looked from her team to the older girl and back. “I’ll catch up with you.” She trotted over to the tall, young woman.

Ms. Marilyn gave her a severe look, but her look was no less severe for Zylo. Perhaps she just had one of those faces. She stood stiff, with her hands behind her back. “Not a completely pitiful showing,” she said. “Your girl with the anger issues,” she looked at Dor. “She could be good at this given practice. The little girls won’t be worth much on the pitch.”

Dor didn’t say anything.

“And you,” Ms. Marilyn looked at Zylo. “You barely let your team do anything. It’s a wonder you’re so adept at switching forms on the field when you don’t even know your metaphor. But at least you’re good at football.”

Dor clenched her jaw. She watched Zylo’s face fall.

“I shouldn’t have expected more from the lowest ranked teams. But I must admit, you weren’t a total disaster.” She regarded them both a moment more before picking up the duffle with the collected balls and jerseys and striding from the field.

Dor watched her go, wondering why the older girl behaved like that. Did she think being harsh was helpful? Did she dislike Zylo? Or maybe she just enjoyed being mean to younger students? Zylo growled under her breath, but it ended in a whimper. 

“It’s all right,” Dor said. “You were great this afternoon. 

Zylo looked at her with astonishment before her expression turned sour. “Yeah, well, it’s the only thing I’m good at. It’s my third year in Fundamentals of Magic. You didn’t see my sister spank me this morning. At least she didn’t do it in front of the whole class. I’m never going to find my metaphor.” 

Dor blushed and decided not to tell Zylo that she had, in fact, witnessed part of that spanking. 

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Dor. “You can’t find your metaphor in class, but clearly on the pitch you’ve got complete control of your innate form. You make it look easy.”

Zylo frowned at her. “It is easy,” she said. 

“Then why can’t you do it in the classroom. That’s the question.” 

Zylo crossed her arms. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“Not at all. I think I’ve got a way to help. It’s obvious you aren’t suited to the classroom in the way you’re suited to the pitch. I wonder if you’d have better luck finding your metaphor out here than in there.” 

Zylo slowly uncrossed her arms. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m still new to learning magic. But everything I’ve learned so far suggests that not everyone does it the same. Based upon your performance this afternoon, my guess is that your magic thrives on something about playing football or being outdoors or running, something like that. 

“Okay, but the class is inside, so…” 

“Maybe we could find your metaphor here.” 

“What, right now?” 

“Yeah. What if we run together around the pitch,” Dor gestured at the expansive athletic field where physical education classes were wrapping up and girls were leaving for the lockerrooms. “It’d just be us. We could run around the field.” 

“What will that prove?” asked Zylo. 

Dor shrugged. “Maybe nothing.” But maybe if you can do your magic with no judgment, out here where it seems to work better, you can figure out your metaphor. I’ve got a spell that will let me link my mind to yours. It won’t hurt to try.” 

Zylo looked skeptical. “You’re a dragonform and a psychic?” 

“Kind of.” 

Zylo put her hands behind her back, looking uncertain. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Why are you trying to help me?” 

“I’m sorry,” said Dor. “I know you didn’t ask for it. Maybe you want me to mind my own business. But it just doesn’t seem fair to me that you obviously know your own magic, but aren’t getting credit for it.” 

“And you promise you’re not making fun of me?” 

Dor was surprised at the vulnerability in the other girl’s tone. She’d been so confident in the football match, so easily sliding between human, hybrid, and wolf forms that Dor had a hard time thinking of the other girl as anything but confident. 

“I promise,” said Dor. “I’m only trying to help. We can stop whenever you want.” 

After several moments, Zylo nodded. “Okay.” 

“With your permission,” said Dor, “I’ll cast a telepathy spell.” 

Zylo nodded again. 

The tingling feel of magic gathered just below Dor neck and danced along her shoulders and tingled at her fingertips. In her mind’s eye, her grimoire flipped open and she tapped at [Jean’s Telepathy]. 

“Zylo?” 

The other girl jumped at Dor’s voice in her mind. 

“Wow. Psychics are rare. I’m surprised you’re only on Team Zed.” 

Dor shrugged. “I don’t mind. I like my team. Are you ready?”

Zylo could have easily outpaced Dor, but she adjusted her stride so Dor could keep up while still forcing Dor to push herself. Behind her surface thoughts, Zylo’s mind loped a hundred miles a minute. Her attention was all over the place, from the smell of the grass to her suspicion of Dor to the beating of her own heart. But as they ran, Zylo’s thoughts settled, not focusing so much as bounding to a rhythm, breathing in and out in time to her long, easy strides. With their minds linked, Dor let herself fall into that same rhythm. She wasn’t as fast as Zylo and definitely didn’t have the same endurance, but following the other girl’s rhythm let her keep pace. 

They were half way around the field when Dor spoke quietly into Zylo’s mind. “Your focus is excellent.” 

The rhythm in Zylo’s mind stumbled, though her stride did not. “Um… thank you? Nobody’s ever said that about me before.” She spoke aloud, not even out of breath.

“That’s because they’ve only every assessed your focus in a classroom.” 

“It’s like a cage,” said Zylo. “I hate it.” 

“I can see that.” Dor could feel the girl’s frustration in hot, angry waves. “But we’re not there now. Let’s focus on the concept of metaphors. Mine is a book. I love to read. Yours will be different. It can almost certainly be whatever you like, and it’s probably something out here. Focus on what you hear, smell, see. What’s most intense? What resonates with your wolform?” 

Zylo didn’t respond. Their thoughts fell quiet. The pitch was empty now but for them and a few toadkin cleaning up and conducting maintenance.  Dor could feel Zylo trying to do as she’d been asked, to focus on what she could feel. At first, it was forced. She felt her feet in her cleats, her breath in her chest, her frustration along every inch of her skin. 

“I can’t do it,” she said. 

“Of course you can,” said Dor. “There’s no rush, no judgment. Just you and me.” 

They finished a circuit of the track. The turmoil continued to roil about Zylo’s mind, interrupted from time to time by the steady pace of their run.

Thump-thump, thump-thump…

   Thump-thump, thump-thump… 

“I can’t…” 

But she didn’t finish the thought. 

The rhythm of the run persisted and Dor let her thoughts mirror it. She felt Zylo’s mind settle again, not trying so hard to find the metaphor. 

Thump-thump, thump-thump…

   Thump-thump, thump-thump…

It was a comforting rhythm. She liked it. So did Zylo. Within the other girl’s mind, Dor saw the image of a wolf, a great grey beast, a loping hunter, a creature of freedom and instinct. She mentally stepped to the side, not wanting to get in the beast’s way. It sniffed, recognizing her, and opened its mouth so its tongue lolled in a wolfish smile. 

Thump-thump, thump-thump…

   Thump-thump, thump-thump…

The beating of the rhythm, their feet on the ground, the breath in their lungs and especially the pumping of their hearts, became one. 

“That’s it!” Zylo exclaimed aloud. 

“Your heartbeat,” said Dor. 

The realization broke their concentration and they stumbled. Dor tripped and fell, limbs splayed, catching Zylo and they both tumbled to the grass, rolling for several moments before coming to a spreadeagled stop. Dor winced, but Zylo laughed. 

“That’s my metaphor. My heartbeat. Oh, Ms. Dororthy. Thank you!” 

Dor sat up only to be tackled in an enthusiastic hug. 

Chapter Text

Dor joined her teammates for dinner in Sarasa Great Mall. Elmira quietly fumed through the meal, but the other girls chatted enthusiastically about their first day of school. 

“That was really nice of you,” Bea said when Dor explained why she’d stayed behind. “Maybe you could tutor Magpie and Elmira and me since we don’t know our metaphors yet.”

“Of course,” Dor said. “Happy to.”  

“We could meditate after dinner,” Bea continued.

Elmira rolled her eyes, but only Dor noticed. 

So they did just that. After dinner, back in their little cottage, they changed into the soft, comfortable nighties, and pushed the chairs and couches aside to sit in a circle on the rug in the center of the living room downstairs.

“The way I did this with Zylo was by contacting her psychically so I could feel what she was feeling…”

“Nope,” said Elmira. She stood up. The others looked at her. She cleared her throat. “I’m not comfortable with…” she looked at Dor. “I’m going to bed.” She hurried up the stairs.

Dor looked at the other girls.

“I’m sorry,” said Bea. “I didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay,” said Dor. “Elmira is just cautious about some things. She and I… we’re still getting to know each other.” She cleared her throat. “But, if you’re still up for it, we can keep going.”

There were nods all around.

They meditated together for an hour before going to bed. Beatrice’s magic tingled at shoulders and backside, smelling of honey and candlewax. Magpie’s magic thrummed at her throat and shone like a full moon. Dor suspected they were closer to their metaphors than they realized, but thought it better to let them come to it in their own time.

In the morning, at Fundamentals of Magic, Zylo gestured excitedly at Dor. “I practiced some more last night. I think I’ve got it.” 

“That’s fantastic,” said Dor, watching from the corner of her eye as Elmira slumped to the back corner of the room. 

“But what if…” Zylo swallowed nervously. “What if I’m wrong and it doesn’t work in front of Amon? I hate it when she spanks me.” 

“Just focus on that rhythm,” Dor said. “Pretend you’re outside. But even if you fail today, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed forever. You can do it. We both know it. If nothing else, take your sister for a run and show her.” 

Zylo nodded but looked doubtful. “Would you… would you sit with me today?” 

Dor glanced at Elmira at the back of the classroom and at Team Zed, who’d joined her, then back at Zylo. “I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, of course,” said Bea when Dor explained. “We’ll join you.”

Elmira frowned and Bea blushed.

“No, no,” Elmira said before Bea could take it back. She pushed herself to her feet with a grumble. “Never thought I’d be sitting at the front of the class.”

Dor sat to Zylo’s right and her team clustered around her.

Ms. Amon clapped her hands sharply to get their attention. Dor turned her attention to the older girl eagerly. Next her Zylo vibrated with excitement.

“Good morning, ladies.” When Ms. Amon’s gaze fell on Zylo, she must have noticed the change, because she raised an eyebrow. “We will begin with meditation. Sit up straight. Close your eyes. Put your feet flat to…”

Dor looked at Zylo, watching her following direction. Her right knee bounced rapidly and Dor worried the confines of the classroom, the requirement of mediation, would throw her off. She resolved to ask Ms. Amon to join them on the pitch if necessary. She kept her eyes on Zylo, but let her mind flip through her mental grimoire. This earned her an arched eyebrow from Ms. Amon when the older girl noticed, but Dor gave a small nod toward Zylo.

“Focus on that feeling,” Ms. Amon said. “Find what resonates. Let that become your metaphor…” She looked at Zylo and both her eyebrows raised in surprise. She smiled, looking back at Dor. “Finding your metaphor takes time. Takes patience. Not only from you, but from those around you. Everyone who can access magic does it in her own way.”

Even without [Jean’s Telepathy], Dor noticed when Zylo focused in on her metaphor. The bouncing of her knee stopped, her breath fell into a rhythm, she shifted form subtly, ears growing pointed, hair becoming the rough of fur, hands becoming thick paws.

“Zylo?” said Ms. Amon.

“I feel my magic building in my tummy,” Zylo said, voice steady. “It connects to the breath in my lungs and the blood in my heart. And that’s where I found it.”

“You… you found your metaphor?” Ms. Amon let go of the guided meditation.

Zylo’s eyes snapped open and she blushed. “I did.” She glanced at Dor. “With some help.”

“Zylo. That’s fantastic. Congratulations!” Ms. Amon said, filling the classroom with her enthusiasm. The girls in class murmured at the interruption. Ms. Amon clapped her hands. “Ladies. It is worth remembering that we all have our strengths and weaknesses and when one of our cousins or sisters finds a way to overcome, it is a celebration for us all.”

The class broke into spontaneous applause and Zylo blushed so hard, tears slipped down her cheeks.

After class, Ms. Amon asked Dor and Zylo to stay behind. Dor briefly feared, almost hoped, that Ms. Amon was keeping them back for a spanking.

“How did you manage it?” Ms. Amon asked.

“Running,” said Zylo. “You said that there are as many ways to use magic as there are people with the talent. So that’s what Ms. Dorothy suggested. We ran. My metaphor was there, it was as though it’s always been there.”

Ms. Amon looked at Dor. “Perhaps you should be the one teaching this class instead of me.”

Dor quickly shook her head. “Oh, no ma’am. My education in magic is scattered at best. I’m largely self-taught. I don’t have a basis in fundamentals.”

“Perhaps I will petition for you to be my assistant, then.”

Academy Magyck worked on a ten day week. Three days of class, one day of personal study, another three days of class, then a three day weekend. The first week of the semester progressed apace. Dor delighted in going to class. Elmira mostly just grumbled about homework.

Dor was surprised at just how frequent and commonplace spankings were at Academy Magyck. Rarely were they full, across the lap affairs. Usually, they were little more than a swat or two. Bea got spanked for being late to Fundamentals after lingering over tea. Ana got spanked for forgetting her homework. Magpie got spanked frequently for inattention. Cherry got spanked for forgetting her manners. No one got terribly upset over the little spankings.

Not every Physical Education class was a soccer match. Once they were assigned to the tennis courts, once the golf course, and near the end of the week, they were assigned to the pool. They changed in their lockerroom alcove, as had become standard, and followed Ana down a slopping hallway in nothing but their workout clothes and a towel over their shoulders. The girls assured Dor the morphcloth workout clothes were just as suited to the water as the pitch.

Elmira was not with them. When she’d seen they were assigned to the pool, she’d flatly refused. 

“I’m a fire mage. I don’t do well in water.” 

The air grew humid. Their bare feet slapped the damp concrete. Dor felt a peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation. She’d never been swimming in a pool before. In fact, her only experience was in the ocean outside Beach City.

They emerged from the hallway into a massive, echoey room housed several pools, some for diving, some for swimming laps, and some for relaxing, or so it seemed to Dor. Ana led them to the pool with lanes delineated by floats upon ropes. The people swimming in those lanes seemed focused and intense. Dor found herself hesitating. She had waded into the ocean outside Beach City and being drawn further out than she’d meant to. [Kya’s Waterbending] had gotten her back to shore, but she didn’t have any real experience learning to swim.  

“We should start with a few warmup laps,” Ana said. Dor and the others looked at her. Ana blinked at Dor. “That is, um, unless you think we should do something different, captain?” She gave a curtsey, which looked oddly bare with no skirts to grasp, clad in workout clothes. 

Dor shook her head. “It’s just, um…” She felt herself blushing. “I don’t know how to swim. I was never taught.” 

“Oh.” Ana’s eyes went wide, first with surprise, then with excitement. “I get to teach you then.” She looked at the others. “You can swim your laps without me, yes?” 

Bea nodded. “Of course. Have fun.” 

Ana took Dor’s hand and lead her from the squared off swimming pool with lanes to the rounded pools Dor had though looked like they were more for relaxing. The room was filled with girls of the Academy all clad in their morphcloth workout clothes, some swimming intensely, some more languidly. A few groups were engaged in some kind of rhythmic exercise in the far end of the pool. The noise of activity was a mix of amplified and muted.

Ana took Dor’s hand and led her to a shallow end. Ana’s grip was small but confident. They waded into the pool and Ana had Dor walk in until the water was at her chest, then she swam out a little further, treading water just as easily as she might stand upon the floor. Dor marveled at how the morphcloth stayed snug and comfortable, almost as though she wore nothing at all, but was supported in all the right spots. 

“First, I just want you to get used to the water,” Ana said. “There’s no rush.” 

Dor nodded. She spread her arms out wide and took slow, careful steps into the pool until it was up to her chest. 

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Ana said. “I want you to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and duck under the water. If you’re comfortable with that, blow your breath out and come back up.” 

Dor took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and dipped her head under.

The world transformed to a muffled symphony. The rhythmic slap of water against the pool deck became a distant thrum. She was submerged, held afloat, weightless. She considered turning to her mental grimoire, casting [Kya’s Waterbending], but decided against it. She remembered Starswirl describing adaptive linguistics and how the convenience of it made it difficult to actually learn languages. She wanted to learn, not take a shortcut. 

Remembering Ana’s instructions, Dor exhaled, releasing a stream of bubbles. Curiosity piqued, she opened one eye, then the other. The pool floor shimmered, distorted. She could see Ana’s dark legs treading lazily, like it was the easiest thing in the world. With a gentle push Dor stood, breaking the surface with a gasp and a grin.

“How does it feel?” Ana asked. 

Dor shook the water from her head and pushed her braids back of her shoulders. She felt calm, careful, collected. A tingle spread across her shoulders and down her spine to her legs, to her toes. It had that familiar tingle of her mind opening, of her magic waiting, of the potential of a new spell. 

“It feels nice,” Dor said. “What do we do next?” 

“Have you ever floated on your back?”

Dor shook her head.

Ana smiled. “It’s simple. Come this way.” She led Dor back to the shallow section where she could stand comfortably with her head above water. “Okay, first things first, take a deep breath and hold it.”

Dor did as instructed, filling her lungs with air.

“Now, lean back slowly, like you’re reclining on an invisible chair.”

Hesitantly, Dor leaned back, feeling the water slide up her back and shoulders. Panic flickered through her, threatening the serene tingle up and down her spine, but Ana placed a reassuring hand on her lower back, just above the waist of her shorts.

“It’s okay,” Ana said. “Just keep leaning back, and I’ll be right here to catch you if you need it.”

Dor took another slow, deep breath and leaned back further. For a moment, the world tilted precariously, and she thought she would fall. But her body found its center of balance, Ana pulled her hand away, and Dor floated upon the water. The tingle of magic filled her chest. 

“Just like that,” Ana said, voice warm. 

Quiet moments passed as Dor floated. She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling of the cavernous room. The rhythmic murmur of the water, the call and splash of other students, were a background lullaby to her floating. 

“You’re doing very well,” Ana said. “When you’re ready, we can try some simple swimming techniques.” 

“How did you learn to swim so well?” Dor asked. 

Ana giggled. “Being a frogform, it comes naturally.” 

The magic in Dor’s chest pulsed. It wanted to spill forth, but there was no channel. In her mind’s eye, a new playing card swam into being, grey-scale and titleless. 

“Right. Of course,” said Dor. She shifted, letting her feet drop so she could stand. She looked at Ana. “Maybe you could show me?” They’d spent time with the group meditating, but she’d yet to see any of them take their innate forms. “If you want to, that is.” 

Ana’s grin was bright. 

A ripple of shimmering green light danced across Ana’s skin, the magic rippling like miniature waves. Ana’s legs grew longer, thicker, more toned. Her toes stretched and grew webbing in between. Her chest and shoulders broadened. Her dark skin shifted to a vibrant emerald green, dappled with darker spots. Her features softened, her nose shorter and more rounded. Her eyes, though still warm and friendly, were now larger and more expressive. The morphcloth clothes responded to the transformation, the fabric adjusting to accentuate the grace and agility of her frogform.

Ana turned and, with a powerful kick, shot across the pool. Her powerful legs propelled her through the water with graceful speed. Her webbed hands sliced through the water with minimal resistance, and her body glided just under the surface. In a blink, she was halfway across the pool, the water parting before her. Ana turned just before the wall and, with another powerful kick, launched herself back toward Dor. 

Dor felt the magic at her chest find its purchase and spill into the blank, grey-scale card in her mind. Blue ripples spread through the border, spills of ink solidified into text, the image of Tiana VonKaiser, of the Sarasa Royaline, swam into being like watercolors coming into focus. She was in her frogform, crouched lazily in crystal clear water.

Ana’s Frogform

Cost:    U

Type:    Creature – Frog Ninja

Text:     Islandwalk

This gets +2/+1 so long as you control an Island

P/T:     0/1

The new spellcard slotted itself into her mental grimoire, at the beginning of the blue section.

“Ms. Dorothy?”

Dor blinked at Ana who looked up at her with a quiet wonder. Her vision was peculiar, a bit wider, slightly distorted.

“Are you… did you… you’re a frogform?” Ana said.

Dor looked down at her hands to find her skin was a yellowish green, her hands webbed. Her morphcloth workout clothes had shifted to snugly fit her new shape. Her legs were long and powerful. The water buoyed and empowered her. She knew that on dry land, this form would hamper her, but here she was light, nimble, and capable.

“I… I learned the spell,” Dor said. She didn’t say out loud how excited she was to have managed it without a thorough, bare bottom spanking first. She looked back at Ana. “I… Sometimes I can learn new spells by observing others.”

Ana grinned at her. “That’s impressive, Ms. Dorothy.” Then she looked bashful. “Do you… do you want me to show you how to swim in this form?”

Dor had wanted to learn to swim without the aid of magic, but this felt wonderful. “Oh, yes please.”

Ana pushed off from the shallows, letting herself drift and Dor did the same. It was effortless. She itched to test the limits of this form. Ana pulled her knees to her chest and turned in the water, facing down the length of the pool. Dor mimicked her movement, as easy as breathing. Ana spread her limbs wide before pushing them back and thrust forward. Dor took a breath and sliced her limbs, her webbed fingers and toes propelling her forward. Water whispered against her skin as she zipped just below the surface.

Dor and Elmira stood before Ms. Amon’s desk.

It was the last day of the week, after Fundamentals of Magic, and Ms. Amon noticed that Elmira had failed to fully engage in meditation. She had them stay after as she scolded Elmira for her refusal to even try to meditate. She looked at Dor.

“I expected you could help her the way you helped Zylo.”

Dor nodded contritely. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And to spank her if she continues to be so reticent.”

Dor swallowed hard.

“She won’t,” Elmira muttered.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to,” Ms. Amon said. She pulled the chair from the corner, sat, and looked at Elmira expectantly.

Elmira blushed. She looked at Dor.

Dor shrugged. Elmira sighed with exasperation.

Dor put her hands behind her back, fingers splayed, before she realized it. She watched Elmira approach Ms. Amon and lay down over the older girl’s lap. Ms. Amon pulled the skirts of Elmira’s dress up to reveal Elmira’s pale, pink drawers. The spanking was perfunctory but sharp. Elmira grunted and squirmed, but she did not cry out. When it was done, she stood, cheeks pink, and cleared her throat.

“I expect you to at least try,” Ms. Amon said.

“Fine, whatever,” Elmira said.

Quick as a whip, Ms. Amon smacked Elmira’s bottom, more harshly than she had during the actual spanking. Elmira yelped and spun about, fists clenched and eyes growing fiery orange.

“I expect more respect out of your mouth, unless you’d like me to send you to the headmistress.” Amon seemed unconcerned with Elmira’s glowing eyes.

Elmira took a breath, then another, before giving a deep curtsey. “Yes, ma’am.”

That evening, Dor and the younger girls sat in the living room in their nighties, meditating. Elmira was sulking in bed. There was a polite knock at the door, and Bea hopped up before anyone else could, her yellow nightie fluttering. She hurried to the door on bare feet. On the other side was one of the toadkin with blue spots upon their turban. Silently, he held out an envelope.

“Thank you,” Bea said, bobbing half a curtsey.

The toadkin bowed, turned, and left.

“It’s for you,” Bea said to Dor as she rejoined their circle on the floor, tucking the skirts of her nightie under her backside. She handed the envelope to Dor. Her name on the paper was written in a neat, tight hand.

Within was a small piece of folded paper.

Your first Trial will be this Eighth Day, before breakfast.

--Headmistress Hazel.

Eighth Day was the first day of the weekend. Most girls spent the weekend at home with their families, using the warp pipes to travel all over the Allied Kingdoms. Elmira told Dor she needed return to the Time Bureau to report to Director Sharpe.

“She’ll want to know that we’ve got a plan. Besides, it’ll be nice to get away from the frilly dresses and formality for a while.”

So, on the morning of the first weekend, the girls bid each other goodbye. Once the others were gone, Dor and Elmira went to the Aurora Library and found a quiet corner in the back, amongst tall shelves filled with meticulously sorted books.

Dor took Elmira’s hand and stepped into L-Space. The infinite hallways spread before them. Dor shivered gently, comforted by the embrace of every book that ever was or could be.

Elmira pulled her hand from Dor’s. “That is so… uncomfortable.”

“Sorry.” Dor didn’t know what else to say. She focused on the Infinite Library and the feeling of the plane where Director Sharpe’s Time Bureau was. She walked down the hallway of bookshelves. Elmira followed. She had a feel for that universe now, the Legendsverse. She didn’t know why that universe should be the Legendsverse any more than that of Xavier’s Institute should be the Marvelverse. She was still wondering on the issue when they came to a fork and she hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Elmira asked, an edge to her tone.

Dor looked to her left and felt the resonance of the Legendsverse, but not what she was looking for. She looked to her right and felt more certain. A moment later, she understood.

“That way,” Dor said, pointing left, “would take us to Camelot in the year 507 C.E. The Time Bureau is this way.” She headed down the path to her right. “They’re both the right plane of existence, the right universe, just at different points in time.”

“So, you’re a time traveler now?” Elmira asked.

Dor shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Elmira exited the Infinite Library in the dim, dusty files room. “I’ll meet you here two days from now. You sure you can get us back the evening before classes start?”

“You worried about a spanking if we’re late?”

Elmira’s eyes flashed orange and her cheeks flushed and she balled her hands in fists.

Dor spread her hands. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have teased. I’ll have us back on time. Promise.”

Elmira stomped off, grumbling.

Chapter Text

The cellar three floors beneath the Hazel Academic Building was dark but for the candles set into niches carved from the stone walls. The room was dry as a whisper and much quieter. The stone was smooth and clean and etched with magical runes. Dor could feel the magic dancing along her skin, magic of protection and warding. It felt similar to the white spells in her grimoire. Whatever happened in this room, magical or otherwise, would not escape this room.

Before her stood three women clad in simple ivory robes: Headmistress Hazel Sarasa, Madame Luxanne Aurora, and Madame Nadia Florence, the three most senior teachers at Academy Magyck. In her right hand, Headmistress Hazel held a thin switch, almost lost to the shadows of the candle-lit room. The room was not large, but the candles weren’t enough to light it to completion. Behind the three, a circle was carved into the stone of the wall and three wide stairs lead to its base. It looked as though the gate was blocked by the rest of the stone wall.

The letter she had received explained the process of preparation.

You will face the Trial alone. You will have access neither to your innate form nor any other magic. You will carry no tools, no weapons, not even clothing. Within the trial you will live another life and, if you learn the lesson of the trial, a return gate will appear to you.

The only help we may provide is the weals of a switch upon your flesh, a reminder of where you are truly from, who you truly are.

Be warned, not all return.

 

Dor disrobed with a thought, tucking her clothes into the magical laundry bag stored in her mindpocket.

“Dorothy Grimoire, approach and be prepared.”

Dor stepped up to Headmistress Hazel and turned. Headmistress Hazel put her left hand on Dor’s shoulder and raised the switch in her other. Dor gasped as the switch cut the air and bit into her backside. The sting itched up her spine. She caught her breath just before the second swip struck below the first. Dor’s tummy clenched, her thoughts focused, her loins tightened.

For all of a semester at Tamagawa Minami, Dor had wanted Jean Grey to take her over her lap and spank her bottom in their shared apartment. Witnessing Mr. North spank Elmira had invoked feeling of jealousy. Even Zylo’s spanking after class had made Dor wonder at her own desire to be spanked after a childhood hating every spanking she’d ever got. Here, now, naked and preparing for her first Trial, Dor was breathless as the headmistress’ switch marched down her naked bottom, at once overwhelmed by the spanking and hoping it would never end.

Ten strokes, ten precise stripes, and Headmistress Hazel turned Dor gently to face the circle in the stone wall.

“The stripes pulse in time with your heart, Ms. Grimoire. You will pass from this world to one beyond and you can take nothing but yourself with you. You will forget yourself and be tested. The stripes can remind you, but you must live, choose, and learn in that other world. Learn what the Trial teaches, and you will return.”

Dor stepped up to the stairs leading to the gate carved into the stone wall. It was a perfect circle bordered by a complex set of markings Dor didn’t understand. The gate itself was no more than a depression in the stone wall, like a circular chunk of stone had been removed, beyond which was just more stone. But as he put her foot on the bottom step, the markings lit with a gentle, rainbow light and by the time she was at the threshold, the circular gate was filled with that same light.

Her teeth itched, her eyes watered, and she repressed a shiver. On the other side of the gate, she stepped into a long, stone corridor upon a plush rug running its length.

She was alone in the hallway and glad for it, considering her nudity. For a moment, she couldn’t remember her name and was confused. She turned to look at the stone circle, polished grey stone in a perfect circle, adorned with a script she couldn’t read. A shimmering rainbow of light filled the circle, on the other side of which was…

She blinked and the circle was gone. 

But of course it was gone. In fact, there never was a circle of stone. And of course she wasn’t nude, what a scandalous thing to think. She was clad in her school uniform of course, and was in on her way to class amid other students of the Kingdom of Zeal.

Dor walked through the halls of the Academy clad in her school uniform, a pale blue robe with dark blue trim. For a moment, she was confused. This wasn’t the school she attended, nor was it any school she had attended before. In the next moment, she remembered that was nonsense. She had lived her whole life a citizen of the Kingdom of Zeal, a member of the Enlightened Ones, and was on her way to class with one of her favorite teachers, Astra. Professor Astra was a student of Gaspar, the Guru of Time, and had a fascinating philosophy on the nature of time, space, and the consequences of choice. 

As Dor settled into her seat, the murmur of the gathered students was tense. 

“I heard Queen Zeal and Princess Schala…”

“I heard summoning Lavos will…”

“I heard the Gurus object…”

Oh. That’s right. The Queen will summon Lavos today, bringing further power and prosperity to the Kingdom of Zeal

Something about that thought didn’t feel quite right to her. A niggling of impending doom gnawed about her shoulders. It almost felt like a tingling warmth, like a book opening in her mind, but the thought flitted away. It almost felt like she’d done this before. Then Professor Astra entered and the class stood up. 

Professor Astra was a tall woman who’s pale skin was only accentuated by her vivid amethyst hair and matching eyes. She was serene and kind and exuded confidence. Behind her entered her husband, Professor Logos, a student of Belthasar, the Guru of Reason. He was a stoic man with short, dark hair and a careful goatee. His smile and attention was for the bundle in his arms, their recently born baby. 

“Good morning, class,” Professor Astra said, her voice filling the room and quieting the murmurs. “I hope you’ll indulge me, I’ve invited Professor Logos and our new baby to help me teach today. Class, meet Dorothy.” 

The class erupted in a chorus of affection for the couple and their baby. Professor Astra had continued to teach throughout her pregnancy and the baby’s arrival had been hotly anticipated. But Dor knew a moment of disorientation, like one of the floating islands of Zeal had come unmoored and drifted away. That her name and the new baby’s would both be Dorothy was unlikely. 

“Now, I know you’re all excited for the imminent summoning of Lavos, so I’d like to draw your attention to the space/time nature of a summoning…” Professor Astra’s voice was like a balm to Dor’s thoughts. She let the learned professor lecture sooth her concerns about the summoning, about the coincidence of names. She let herself focus on the professor’s metaphor of space as a fabric that could be bent and twisted by gravity, that could stretch time based upon speed, that could fold upon itself connecting distant reaches of the universe. 

“Which is how a being like Lavos can be brought from millions of years ago and lightyears away to our present time and place in the universe.” 

Professor Logos stepped forward, baby Dorothy still cradled in his arms. “Now, as to the reasoning behind the summoning.” Dor didn’t find Professor Logos’ voice as soothing at Professor Astra’s. Instead, he spoke with careful enunciation, as though constantly plucking the precise word he wanted. 

“We like to call ourselves the “Enlightened Ones”. We live in Zeal, above the cloudcover that shrouds the world below in snow and ice. Those who live below are “Earthbound” and, some would say, lesser. But by what metric? Only because they are unable to tap into the power of Lavos? Some have suggested that by summoning Lavos to this time and place, all will reap the benefits thereof. The Earthbound will join us…” 

A buzzing tickled at the edge of Dor’s hearing. The gnawing of doom itched at her neck. She felt the urge to stand and call warning, to interrupt class. But surely that was hasty. Even so, she recognized the teeth-itching tingle of an impending portal.

A flash of light caught the edge of her vision and she looked through the window of the lecture hall across the gulf of sky between the floating island that housed the university campus and the largest island, miles away, that housed the royal palace. A column of blue-white light erupted from the palace, where Queen Zeal would be summoning Lavos.

Already had summoned Lavos.

Pressure built behind her eyes. Her breath caught. A tear in reality blossomed at the front of the classroom, in the space between professors and students. Dor stared. It was a perfect sphere pulsing with waves of blue-violet energy, swirling over a backdrop of fathomless void. It was mesmerizing, a hypnotic dance of light and dark.

For a disorienting moment, Dor stared into the abyss. Flashes of memories, fragmented and fleeting, flickered at the edge of thought like shuffling a deck of cards. An orphanage door slamming shut, the scent of snow and pine needles, the warmth of a large hand wrapped around hers.

The tremor that shook the classroom jolted her back to the present. A scream ripped through the air, followed by a chorus of panicked shouts. The island – Zeal itself – was falling. Dust rained drifted from the ceiling and cracks snaked across the walls. The building groaned, threatening to crumble around them.

Through the growing chaos, the wail of a baby pierced sharply. Dor’s gaze darted to Professor Astra, who clutched the child to her chest, eyes wide with terror. Everything – the professors, the students, the life she knew – was about to be ripped away.

The portal pulsed, a beckoning light in the growing darkness. Dor’s hand rose, reaching for the swirling vortex. She tasted dust as the ceiling caved in, a maelstrom of stone and wood. Professor Astra screamed, the sound swallowed by the roar of the collapsing building. The weight of it slammed into her, desperate cries merging with the cacophony. Dor’s vision snapped to black.

Her head throbbed and she blinked against the sudden brightness. The familiar classroom swam into focus, Professor Astra mid-sentence about the nature of spacetime. It was as if the entire event – the portal, the screams, the crushing darkness – had been a horrific dream. The switch-weals across her bottom thrummed n time with her heartbeat.

She remembered.

Only a moment, but she remembered who she was, and what she was doing here.

The prickling discomfort remained. The sense of a portal itched at her teeth. A flicker of light at the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to the window. A column of blue-white light burst from the palace on the largest of Zeal’s floating island in the distance. Lavos was summoned ant spacetime portals were about to open across the islands.

A wave of nausea closed her throat. Her gaze darted around the room. Students sat with rapt attention, oblivious to the impending doom. The professors beamed, bathed in the warm glow of their new baby. Dor shoved herself out of her chair, the wood scraping against the stone floor. The familiar sound of Professor Logos' lecture faded to a background hum, replaced by the thundering pressure building in her chest.

Eyes locked on the empty space at the front of the room where the portal would erupt, Dor ignored the startled looks of her classmates. Each carefully placed step resonated like a drumbeat in her ears, echoing the frantic rhythm of her heart.

"Is something wrong?" Professor Logos' voice, measured and calm, held a sliver of concern.

Dor looked at Professor Logos, baby Dorothy upon his hip, Professor Astra just behind him. Her voice rose above the shocked murmurs.

"The summoning! It's a catastrophe!" The words tumbled out, breathless and urgent. But before she could elaborate, A tear in reality erupted before her, a perfect sphere pulsing with waves of blue-violet energy through the great and final void.

A gasp ripped through the class. Dor's body seized. An unseen force yanked at Dor. Her scream was lost in the growing cacophony of chaos as she was ripped from reality and swallowed by the portal.

A harsh wind whipped at Dor's bare skin, carrying the scent of wood smoke. Disoriented, she blinked, tears welling in her eyes from the sudden brightness. She stood up straight, screams of fear faded to nothing all around her.

Gone were the polished stones and intricate carvings of the Zeal classroom. In their place, a dusty street stretched before her, lined with buildings of weathered wood and faded paint. A horse-drawn carriage clattered past, the driver tipping his hat in a polite greeting. A knot of recognition tightened in her stomach. This wasn't Zeal. This wasn't the Trial.

This was Wakefield. Home.

The switchmarks down her backside pulsed gently, reminding her that she was Dorothy Grimoire, attempting her first Trial at Academy Magyck, that if she learned the lesson of this trial, a return gate would appear to her.

She took a long, slow breath, and even the smell of the place reminded her of growing up in a cottage just down the street to her left. She turned and found it among other along the haphazard side street. She could just barely see it, but knew it in her minds eye like a perfect photograph.

Tucked away from the main road's bustle, a cottage huddled behind a thick but well-tended garden of wildflowers and vegetable patches. Its paint, once a cheery blue, had faded to a gentle turquoise, whispering stories of sun-soaked summers. The roof, interlocking tiles of red and brown and grey, stood strong and proud. A single chimney, capped with an old tin bonnet, promised warmth against the northern chill. Dor's gaze drifted to a weathered wooden fence, its pickets a mismatched family, some leaning, some short, all held together by a vibrant climbing rose. This wasn't a grand house, but the memory of Grammy's love bloomed.

Dor hadn’t thought about Grammy in years.

Grammy had taken care of here until she’d died and Dor had been sent to St. Bridget’s Orphanage. But why had a portal in the Kingdom of Zeal sent her here? She thought about Professor Logos and Professor Astra and their new baby, Dorothy. A baby with the same name as her. She thought about how she’d never known her parents. She thought about her ability to planeswalk and the infinite multiverse and the answer staggered her. She dropped to her knees, vision fading.

Dor shoved herself out of her chair, the wood scraping harshly against the stone floor. The familiar sound of Professor Logos' lecture faded to a background hum, replaced by the thundering pressure building in her chest. She’d done this already and knew what she had to do next. This was the lesson of the Trial. She had to save her parents.

Eyes locked on the empty space at the front of the room where the portal would erupt, Dor ignored the startled looks of her classmates. Each carefully placed step resonated like a drumbeat in her ears

"Is something wrong?" Professor Logos' voice, measured and calm, held a sliver of concern.

Dor looked up at him. “The summoning. It will destroy the Kingdom of Zeal.”

Professor Logos raised an eyebrow at her. “I agree the social implications…”

Dor shook her head. “Not like that. The islands will fall. Soon.” She steeped up to them professors, trying to convey her urgency. Her teeth itched. Her chest grew heavy. The portal was coming. She looked past Logos at Astra. “You have to flee. A space/time tear will open here, right here…”

Time stretched and compressed, the classroom racked and rumbled. Students murmured. Professor Logos looked at baby Dorothy in his arms. Professor Astra stepped up beside her husband.

“Who are you?” Professor Astra said.

Dor looked at the baby in Professor Logos’ arms. She was small and squirmy and hairless, but her green eyes were bright and there was already the hint of freckles upon her cheeks. Dor squeezed her hands into fists. Before she could answer, reality warped behind her and the portal winked into existence. Someone screamed. The building shuddered.

“You have to go,” Dor pleased. “Now. Right now.”

“But…” Professor Logos looked at his wife, eyes wide.

“How do you…” Professor Astra put a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“There’s no time. Go, or you’ll die. All of you.”

Dor turned and gestured at the portal, the sphere of void snapping with violet-blue energy. Gasps ripped through the class. Dor's heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribs. She looked past the portal at the rest of the class. Her classmates. Except this wasn’t her place, nor her time. Her body throbbed at the memory of Headmistress Hazel’s switch against her naked bottom.

The island shook.

Dor looked back at the professors. “It’s safe. I promise.”

The walls cracked. Dust fell from the ceiling, and Professor Astra’s expression turned determined. With a hand on her husband’s back, she ushered them forward. She glanced at Dor, just before they stepped into the spherical portal. Their forms warped and stretched, then snapped from existence.

The island was falling. Dust rained drifted from the ceiling. The building groaned. From the corner of her eye, a shimmer of rainbow colored light blossomed into a perfect circle. This was it. Her way back to Academy Magyck. She looked back at the panicking students and her chest ached. She could not stop the collapse. There was nothing more she could do here. Teas blurring her vision, sobs wracking her chest, Dor turned for the return gate and stumbled through.

Dor stumbled down the stairs into the cellar. The candles had burned low. Headmistress Hazel caught Dor before she could fall. She sat upon the floor and Dor found herself curled in the woman’s lap. The headmistress wrapped her arms around Dor.

“You’ve returned, child. You’re safe here.”

“But… but they… the islands collapsed and…”

“You’ve completed the trial, Dorothy. Whatever you experienced beyond the gate is yours and yours alone.”

Dor took a shuddering breath, rested her forehead on Headmistress Hazel’s shoulder and sobbed. Dor knew she couldn’t tell her what she’d experienced without revealing herself an imposter. She couldn’t even be certain it was real. But it had felt real. She’d met her parents, professors in a floating kingdom of magic, destroyed by hubris and greed. Why had they left her with Grammy? Where had they gone? Were they still alive?

Headmistress Hazel rubbed her bare back in wide, slow circles, rocking her gently.

Chapter Text

Dor spent the rest of the weekend quietly.

She lay in bed and stared at the peaked ceiling of her room in the cottage of Team Zed. The exposed beams were stained dark brown, the plaster was smooth and whitewashed, but the early light of dawn cast everything in shades of grey. The cottage was quiet with the other girls home for the weekend. When her stomach rumbled, she pushed the covers off and climbed out of bed, but didn’t bother to get dressed. She hadn’t bothered with a nightgown upon going to bed after the trial. It had taken forever to fall asleep and she wasn’t even certain she’d managed it. Perhaps she’d simply stared at the ceiling all night.

She drifted downstairs to the kitchen. Dor didn’t have a lot of meal preparation experience. She’d worked in the kitchen at St. Bridget’s and knew there was food in the refrigerator, but didn’t feel up to the effort of putting something together. So, she focused upon her mental grimoire and watched it flip open to the page displaying [Tenshu’s Special], just after [Minwu’s Lifa] and just before [Twilight’s Blink].

She felt the magic gather between her shoulder blades and slide down to her fingertips, and when she gave the spellcard a mental tap, the magic summoned a plate laden with pastry crust filled with savory quiche, sausage, spinach, and topped with shredded cheese.

She sat at the table in the dining room and thought she could feel the sting of Headmistress Hazel’s switch, her bare backside against the plain wood of the chair. She could still hear the panic of the students in the classroom upon an island no longer suspend by magic.

Breakfast was nice, but Dor couldn’t shake the memory.

Part of her wanted to go to the pool under Lombardi Arena and practice with her new frogform, or find a studyroom in Aurora Library and study vocabulary for Fundamentals of Magic, or walk through the Infinite Library and visit her friends. But she found it was all she could do to stand from the table and go back upstairs to bed.

She dropped onto the bed and stretched out upon her back. Exhaustion tugged at her, but sleep didn’t come. The silence of the empty cottage settled into the small places between thoughts. Had Professors Astra and Logos really made it to Wakefield? Was she really the same Dorothy as their baby? And if so, why had they left her with Grammy? Where had they gone? Where were they now?

Tears slid down the side of her face from the corners of her eyes.

She collected Elmira from the Time Bureau at noon the day before classes restarted. She stepped from L-Space into the dusty file room where Elmira sat upon an old folding chair. Elmira hopped up when Dor ‘walked from L-Space.

“Are we late?”

“It’s just now noon the day before,” Dor assured her.

“Good.” Elmira looked relived, but her tone was annoyed. She grabbed Dor’s hand. “Let’s get going.”

The other girls all arrived at the cottage not long thereafter entering in a babble of conversation about their weekends at family homes.

“Oh. Did you see there’s a pugilist event tonight, Captain?” Bea held up a letter. 

“What’s that?” Dor asked at the same time the girls made excited noises.

“Pugilists from around the Allied Kingdoms come to have a series of exhibition bouts. They set up in the auditorium.” Bea said. 

“It’s so the older girls can choose husbands,” said Magpie in her distracted way. 

“No, it’s not.” Bea sounded affronted. Then she blushed. “But lots of girls do marry pugilists.”

“I’ve never been to one,” said Ana. 

The other girls made sounds of agreement, but Cherry grinned. “I have. It’s intense, but exhilarating. Come on, we should get dressed.”

The girls hurried upstairs and Dor followed. Elmira trailed behind. 

“Are you all right?” Dor asked over her shoulder

Elmira glared at her. “What do you care?” 

Dor frowned. “Be that way then. But I don’t want you snapping at the girls.”

“You going to spank me if I do?”

Dor bit her tongue. She focused on the walk down the hallway to their shared room, feeling Elmira’s sullen gaze on her back the whole time. She opened her wardrobe and withdrew a simple purple dress with yellow pleats in the skirt. The dress was fancy by her normal standards, but it was one of the simplest in the wardrobe. Behind her, she heard Elmira sit on her bed.

“What about you?” Elmira demanded. “How was your weekend?”

Dor draped the dress over one arm and turned to look at the other girl. “I passed the Trial of Time.”

Elmira raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Dor nodded.

Elmira looked relieved. “So, we’re one step closer to retrieving the keyblade. That’s good. How… umm… how was it?”

“Traumatizing.” Dor watched Elmira squirm.

Elmira, cleared her throat. “Do you want to…”

“No,” said Dor. She tossed the dress on the bed, then shucked out of her pajama pants and t-shirt before realizing that left her in only a pair of purple X-Men panties. She blushed and looked at Elmira who watched with a faint smirk. When she realized Dor was looking at her, Elmira cleared her throat and looked away.

“Director Sharpe… scolded me for neglecting to report in earlier. She wants you to take me back every evening, after class, so I can keep her updated.”

Dor sent her discarded clothes to her mindpocket and the magical laundry bag within, then pulled the dress over her head.

“I can do that. Though, it might be easier to just send her a letter.”

Elmira chanced a glance at Dor. Seeing she was dressed, Elmira cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve got a postal kit. You can write to keep her updated and I can have it sent through the multiverse.”

Elmira looked disbelieving, then shook her head. “If you say so.”

Dor settled the dress into place, then reached back but couldn’t quite get the zipper. She looked at Elmira.

“Could you…” She blushed. Elmira was not her friend. To ask something so mundane yet intimate of her felt like something she should reserve for people she both liked and trusted.

“Sure.”

Elmira stood and Dor turned her back. She took a careful breath against the beating of her heart. Elmira’s touch was dry and warm and she zipped up the back of the simple dress.

“Captain? Elmira?” Bea knocked as she called through the door.

Dor opened it, relieved to find the girls all clad in similar dresses. She’d hoped she’d made the right call, choosing a dress that wasn’t too dressy.

Bea’s grin was practically giddy. Then she looked at Elmira. “Aren’t you going to change?”

“No.” Elmira shook her head. “I’m not feeling well. I’ll just stay here.”

Once in the foyer of the auditorium in the Hazel Academic Building, Bea explained that for informal events, girls were expected to sit with their families rather than their teams.

Cherry grumbled about it. “Marilyn is going to insist that I sit right next to her.”

Which was how Dor found herself sitting near the back, next to the aisle, by herself. The seats were thickly-cushioned and velvet-upholstered. On the stage had been erected square stage enclosed by thick ropes held taught by sturdy posts at each corner.

“Dorothy Grimoire, dragonform and bastardline. Is this seat taken?” Quincy plopped into the seat next to Dor without waiting for an answer. “I heard you passed your first Trial. Was it excruciating? I hope so.” 

Dor bit her tongue when she looked at Quincy. She had the thought that she could fight the other girl, strike without warning, take the keyblade and step into L-space. But she didn’t do that. Of course she didn’t. Aside from the chaos and injury that would cause, Quincy didn’t have the keyblade with her.

“Hello,” Dor replied. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to surrender?”

Quincy laughed, high and girlish. “Never. But I admire your polite persistence. How was your first week at the Academy?”

Do nodded. “I’ve realized I enjoy going to school. The fundamentals class is a bit basic, but Ms. Amon has asked me to assist, so that’s been interesting. How was your week?”

She asked because it was polite, but there was a surreal quality to it, as though they were just friends catching up after a few days apart, about to catch a show.

“Marilyn’s a true taskmaster,” Quincy said. “She drills us endlessly. Athletics, academics, all of it. A dropped pass means running a mile. Forgotten vocab words earn a spanking. The other day I forgot what ‘ictus’ means in wandwork. Marilyn took me upstairs to her bedroom, ordered me to disrobe, and took me over her lap to spank my naked bottom with her very own hairbrush.” Quincy shivered. “It was exquisite. I still have a few bruises. Want to see?” 

Quincy half stood as though to show off her bottom right there, and Dor held up her hands. 

“No, thank you. Quincy.” 

“It refers to the precise moment where the caster strikes a beat with her wand. The rebound is the natural upward motion of the hands that follows the ictus, creating a bounce.” 

Dor shook her head. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“In case you didn’t know what ‘ictus’ means.” 

“No, I mean about Ms. Marilyn spanking you.” 

Quincy shrugged and giggled. “Just to see you squirm uncomfortably.” 

Dor shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you about the keyblade. Are you sure you won’t just hand it over?” 

“The source of my power? No, sweetie.” Quincy smiled broadly. “I need it to burn this place down.” 

“I get that you’re upset with the aristocracy, but why attack the school?” 

“It’s the seat of their power. Why do you insist on recovering the keyblade? It’s not yours. It doesn’t belong to the Time Bureau either.” 

Dor saw no reason to keep the truth from Quincy.

“When Mr. Quillon's mindcage collapsed, all his stolen artifacts came into my possession. I’ve been returning them. This feels like a natural extension of that. And I can’t just let you attack a school. It’s not that I have no sympathy for your anger, but I was in a much harsher institution than this. Headmistress Hazel is a reasonable woman. I’m sure she can be reasoned with. Besides, there are children here.” 

Quincy tsked her tongue. “I suppose we’re at an impasse then. But that’s all right. I believe you really can pass all five trials. I’m looking forward to the duel. It would be the height of drama to have them all gathered in Lombardi Arena when I kick off the invasion. I’ve allied with the Koopan Empire, you see.” 

“What if I go straight to Headmistress Hazel and tell her about your plans?” 

Quincy laughed, high and chiming. “She won’t believe you, Dorothy. You’re a bastardline. I’ve already told you this. It’s part of their hubris. It’s part of why I’ll win, no matter what you or anybody else does. Their neglect killed my mother. And now their love for me will kill them.” She grinned, rosy cheeked and winsome.

Dor realized she wasn’t getting anywhere and tried a different tack. “What is the keyblade? Why’d you take it?” 

Quincy cocked her head at Dor, grinning. 

The lights in the auditorium dimmed and conversation hushed. Spotlights focused on the stage where the raised, square platform had been set up. The stilled hush of anticipation hummed through the cavernous room. The canvas covering the platform was stark white under the lights. 

“Sisters and cousins, welcome to the first fight night of the term!” 

Dor didn’t recognize the amplified voice of the girl serving as announcer. Nonetheless, the announcement got her own adrenaline pumping. She wasn’t certain she was interested in watching a boxing match, but the presentation was compelling. 

“I’ve always wanted to watch one of these,” Quincy said, leaning in close to Dor.

“In the black shorts, weighing a lean one-eighty-five and just under six feet tall, hailing from Yoshi Island, Kenji “the Shadow” Mori!” 

A young man entered the stage from the right, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black, morphcloth shorts. He was thin, but well muscled, the lights shining off his pale skin. His short, black hair was slicked back, his piercing grey eyes raked the crowd. His delicate features remained calm and focused. He did not smile, but he did give a short bow as the girls in the seats gasped and cheered at his arrival. Then he faced the raised platform, crouched, and leapt, clearing the top robe in a neat forward flip, landing upon his feet and trotting to the center of the mat. 

The girls screamed and cheered and applauded. 

Quincy put a hand on Dor’s shoulder and shook her gently. “Did you see that, Dororthy? My goodness. Really gets the heart pounding, yeah? I… I’m tingling all over. He’ll have a wife before the night is through. Or at least a hookup. Do you think he’d be interested in me? He might, right?” 

Dor didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. 

Kenji exuded confidence as he walked back to his side of the canvas-covered platform and the far corner, where he leaned back and waited. 

“And his opponent, in the blue shorts, at two-hundred and thirty pounds, six feet six inches...” 

Another young man entered from the other side of the stage. He was a towering figure, easily a head taller than Kenji. His muscles bulged beneath his bronze skin. His thighs were like tree trunks and his chest like a barrel. He grinned as the girls cheered his arrival. Dor winced as the adulation raised in pitch. She blushed as she realized she was getting excited for the coming spectacle. 

“Hailing from New Donk City, Bull “the Bruiser” Ivanov!” 

The giant of a young man reached to the top rope of the platform and stepped upon the edge of the platform with no more effort than Dor would take to walk down a hallway. He lifted the top rope and lowered the bottom rope and ducked to step into the ring with his back to the audience. Dor didn’t know if the young man had deliberately shown off his backside in the tight blue, morphcloth shorts, but the girls of Academy Magyck rose to new levels of cheering appreciation. Bull stepped to the center of the stage, a giant grin on broad face, and raised his arms, flexing his chest muscles. 

Quincy’s hand tightened on Dor’s shoulder. “Oh… oh my. He can bruise me any time he likes.” 

Bull took his place in the corner opposite Kenji and a short, thin man in a white and black striped shirt stepped up onto the stage and spoke to the two young men. Dor hadn’t even noticed him before. After both Bull and Kenji nodded, agree to the terms laid out by the referee, a bell rang and the young men approached each other.

Bull walked right at Kenji, fists up and took a swing. Dor knew the taller of the young men was fast, but the way Kenji dodged aside, it made Bull look slow. Bull circled to his right and Kenji followed suit. They circled each other for several seconds and Dor felt the tension in the auditorium stretch tight. Then Bull pivoted and threw a jab. It was short, a test, trying to draw Kenji in. Kenji didn't dodge, but did stop circling, which proved to be prudent as Bull's next attack was more forceful and Kenji would have walked right into it had he not stopped. 

The crowd gasped. 

Kenji countered with a quick cross, catching Bull across the jaw even as the larger man leaned back in a desperate attempt to dodge the sudden blow. Bull staggered. Kenji followed with a quick set of jabs, but Bull had his arms up, protecting his head, and those that landed upon his chest were like wind against a mountain. Bull widened his stance, crouched a touch, lowered his center of gravity. Kenji danced to the side, looking for an opening, but Bull’s arms were so large as to be a fortress. 

Dor bit her tongue, holding her breath, leaning forward. She found Quincy’s hand in her own and didn’t know who had grasped whom. 

Bull pivoted to keep Kenji in front of him, taking a whirlwind of blows, being pushed back until he was in the corner, all he could do to keep from taking a shot to the face or head. Then Bull dropped his left shoulder. 

“It’s a feint,” Quincy whispered. 

Dor cocked her head. She was right. 

Kenji shifted to take advantage of Bull’s dropped guard and was blindsided by a dropping haymaker as Bull stood to full height and brought a fist down on his head. The crowd groaned. Kenji staggered and fell. The referee stepped in, waving Bull off before counting. Kenji struggled, but could not stand. At the count of ten, the referee waved his arms and the bell was rung. 

“Your winner, Bull, “the Bruiser” Ivanov!” 

The crowd cheered. Dor found herself breathless. Quincy squeezed her hand and fell back in her seat. Dor looked at her. The other girl shone with a faint sheen of sweat and her chest heaved. Dor could see her nipples pressed hard against the fabric of her blouse. 

“Amazing,” Quincy said. “And that was just the first match. 

Bull exited. It took several minutes of attention from healers before Kenji was revived and exited as well. Dor sat back in her seat and wondered at what she’d witnessed. She’d seen the fight between Ryu Sensei and Zangief. This had been like that, but the intensity of the crowd was easy to get swept up in. She didn’t think she had enjoyed herself, precisely, but it had certainly been exciting. 

“It called me,” Quincy said. 

Dor looked at her, thinking she was still talking about the fight, then remembered her question. “The keyblade?” 

Quincy nodded. “It didn’t belong in that dark, stuffy Time Bureau warehouse, tagged and boxed up, unused. It’s a catalyst for change. It reignited my spark. It’s as much me as my very own hands. And you want to take it from me?” 

Dor shrugged. “You’re threatening to destroy this place.” 

Quincy giggled. “That wasn’t the question.”

“I…” she thought of Bahamut. “I want to help. That means stopping you from hurting the people here. But maybe it also means helping you show them how their society has hurt.”

Quincy smiled, small and sad, and Dor was certain it was genuine. “That’s not going to work.” She patted Dor’s shoulder gently. “But I’ll make you this deal. Pass your trials and I’ll let you be first to face the invasion. A sporting chance to be the big damn hero. All right?”

The lights dimmed again and the spotlights shone upon the canvas-covered platform. Dor felt her gaze drawn back to the platform, excited for the next match despite herself.

The girls were all atwitter after the fight night. They bubbled with excited chatter and debate. 

“Kenji was amazing. Bull just got in a lucky hit,” Ana said. 

“No way,” Cherry objected. “Bull was super strategic. He knew he wasn’t as technically sound, so he waited and…”

“I think Aryan Ryan was cheating,” Bea said. “It looked like his gloves were weighted. 

“I feel bad for Joey Glass,” said Ana. “I don’t think he’s ever won a match.”

“What did you think, Miss Dorothy?” Bea asked. 

“It was… impressive. I can see why so many girls of the Royaline marry pugilists.” 

When they returned to the cottage, they found Elmira clad in her orange nightie, sitting on the couch, knees to her chest, staring at nothing. She started when they came in. 

“Are you feeling better?” Bea asked.

Elmira blinked at them and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Dor thought she was about to get up and leave, but the other girl just sat up a little straighter as the rest of them spread around the sitting room and found seats. Dor sat across from Elmira.

“I noticed Quincy sat next to you,” Magpie said, her quiet voice drawing attention. “Did she have anything interesting to say?”

Dor looked at Elmira. Elmira gave a small frown. 

“Ah. Well, she still refuses to give up the keyblade. She… She really hates the aristocracy here. Can I ask, is she right? I mean, are the nobility really so oppressive?”

The girls looked at each other. Bea folded her hands in her lap and straightened up. “Around eighty years ago, the Allied Kingdoms were fractured. There was a lot of fighting amongst the various duchies. The common folk took the brunt of it, conscripted for endless little wars.” She sighed. The girls all looked sad. “It’s our national shame.”

“But then Princess Peach was captured by the Koopan Empire,” Ana said. “And the Jumpman Brothers rescued her.”

Dor and Elmira looked at each other.

“You say that like it’s a good thing?” Elmira said. 

“It was a catalyst. The duchies came together and became the Allied Kingdoms. We repelled the Koopan Empire. Peach became Queen and drove the Emperor Bowser Koopa into exile.”

“It’s not perfect,” Cherry said quickly, and she looked an apology at Bea. Bea nodded. “I think Quincy is right to be mad. How many other sisters and cousins are there who’ve been disowned and forgotten? We should be looking for them. Welcome them in.”

“That’s why we accept any girl who’s got an innate form,” said Bea. “Whether we know their heritage or not. Like you two.”

Dor squirmed. She hated lying. “About that…” Elmira gave her a hard look and shook her head. Dor pressed on. “We’re not actually from here.” 

Elmira tsked with annoyance. The girls looked around, confused. 

“You don’t just mean the Allied Kingdoms?” Bea asked. 

Dor shook her head and couldn’t help like she’d been caught being naughty. “I’m from a plane called Earth and a town called Wakefield and an orphanage called St. Bridget’s. It’s a world without magic. Then I became a planeswalker and discovered the multiverse.” 

Dor looked at Elmira who frowned and blushed. 

“I…” she cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m also from a different world. A different orphanage. We were all held…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to get into details, but we knew Queenie… Quincy, before. She stole that keyblade from the Time Bureau, which I work for. It’s not hers, but even if it was, she’s dangerous.”

“I threatened Quincy with telling the headmistress about all this. But she seemed to think that Headmistress Hazel wouldn’t believe us.”

Bea hummed and nodded. “She’s probably right. But you have got the opportunity to force a duel upon her if you complete the trials.” She looked at Dor. “Speaking of which, how’d it go?”

“I… um… I passed.”

“Obviously,” said Magpie. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Cherry nudged her.

“It was…” Dor looked around at the girls. They all looked back at her with wide eyes, rapt with attention. “I… Headmistress Hazel said my experience was for me alone, but if you really want to hear about it?”

They all nodded. Even Elmira.

Dor took a breath. “I was a student at a school in a kingdom upon a floating island…”

Chapter Text

Ms. Amon secured permission for Dor to serve as her assistant in Fundamentals of Magic. While Ms. Amon lead the whole class in a discussion on the nature of aether, she assigned Dor to work with Magpie. There was a studyroom across the hall. It was a bit crowded, with four chairs around a single, round table, but Dor immediately thought of the room Twilight had taken her to in the library at Canterlot.

She pulled out a pair of chairs and pulled the table to one side. She sat and Magpie sat across from her. The girl slipped off her shoes and crossed her legs upon the seat, tucking them into the skirts of her dress. She usually wore white and pale pink, but this morning she’d chosen a black dress with white underskirts. She looked at Dor with wide, dark eyes, her black hair in two braids, her pale skin rosy at the cheeks.

“What first, captain?” she asked in her whispery voice.

Dor mirrored Magpie’s position, crossing her legs under her upon the chair. “When I helped Zylo, we started by connecting our minds. My I contact you telepathically?”

Magpie nodded solemnly.

Dor looked into her mindpocket. Her grimoire sat open to [Jean’s Telepathy] and her wand lay atop the open book. The magic made her brain and fingertips tickle and she cast the spell. Magpie’s mind opened to her like the unfolding of a greathall at midnight, lit only by candelabras at irregular intervals.

“Hello,” Magpie said gently into her mind.

“Hello,” Dor returned. “Last week, you said you feel your magic in your throat. So… talk to me.”

“About what?” Magpie’s whisper filled their minds.

“Whatever you like. Tell me about yourself.”

Magpie shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I’ve got four little siblings. My mother is Alia Buster. My father is Peregrine Lombardi. I live on the Lombardi Estates in the north.” She shrugged again.

Dor waited, but Magpie fell silent. They looked at each other.

“Do you sing?” Dor asked.

Magpie blushed so hard she hunched her shoulders and a few tears slid down her cheeks. “Umm…”

“If you sing in your mind, only I will hear it.” Dor said.

“But I… no one knows I like to sing.” Magpie’s whisper was so quiet Dor wouldn’t have heard her had they not been mentally connected.

“I promise not to tell.”

And because they were speaking mind to mind, Magpie knew Dor told the truth.

Magpie looked at her for several long moments before she sat up straight, rested the backs of her hands upon her knees and took a slow, deep breath. Then she closed her eyes and took another. The flush of her cheeks faded.

The note was high and pure, a crescendo from the far end of the greathall. And when she stopped singing, the note rang in their shared minds for several moments. Then she sang a series of notes rising, and falling again. Dor didn’t know much about music, but she quickly understood that Magpie was going through a series of musical exercises. 

After a few minutes of this, Magpie cocked her head at Dor and said out loud, “I know a song, and it feels like you.” She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, and sang. Her voice filled the room, filled their minds, and Dor felt a surge of emotion, her own mind opening like a flower with petals ranging through all the colors.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby

Dor was reminded of her early dreams of other worlds, a yearning for something she couldn’t articulate. The lyrics were simple and pure, and Magpie’s voice was clear and steady. The song pierced her heart and shivered her mind. She spilled into her mindpocket and through the door to L-Space. Every book that was, is, and could be fluttered open.

A grey-scale playing card clattered to the desk of her mindpocket.

[Dor’s Library]

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can’t I?

Magpie let the last note fade.

They grey-scale card faded away, patiently.

Dor and Magpie stared at each other in the little studyroom, their minds connected, and the image of a single candle bathed in moonlight between them. But that, too, faded. It was just too bright in the room.  

They lost their football game to C Team, lead by Patricia D’Coolette (Toadstool Royaline, tanooki form). The girls on the other team were all sixteen years old or older, except Patricia’s little sister, Christina, who was only twelve. Still, Zed Team got completely outplayed.

There’d been a moment when Dor thought she could cheat the system. She subbed in for Elmira, who hated being sidelined, and cast [Rainbow’s Dash]. The other girls on the pitch slowed to immobility as she stole the ball, dribbled it downfield, and let the spell lapse before tapping the ball into the goal.

Ms. Marilyn blew her whistle like a shriek of outrage. “What was that?”

Dor shrugged. “It’s a spell that makes me fast.”

Ms. Marilyn frowned. She banned the spell, but let the goal stand. Unfortunately, it was the only goal they scored all game.

“Ridiculous!” Elmira shouted in the lockerroom afterward. “Embarrassing. I was wide open, Bea! Wide open! Why didn’t you pass me the ball?”

“I… um….” Bea looked on the verge of tears, huddled on the bench, clad only in her yellow morphcloth workout clothes.

“And you!” Elmira whirled on the other three. Ana, Cherry, and Magpie sat close together, hunched under Elmira’s tirade. “Were you even trying? You barely run, you pass like you’re afraid, and you never challenge for the ball!”

“Enough,” said Dor. But she wasn’t loud enough because Elmira kept going.

“I feel like I’m the only one doing anything out there. I’m sprinting up and down the field while you four…”

Dor grabbed Elmira by the shoulder and spun her around so they were facing each other. Nose to nose. Elmira’s eyes flashed orange and she put her hands on Dor’s chest and shoved her away.

“What do you want?” Elmira demanded.

Dor staggered. The girls gasped. Dor stood up straight and looked at Elmira levelly. “Enough,” Dor said again, more forcefully. “It’s just a game.”

“A game we could win!” Elmira insisted. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing hard, her eyes fiery. She looked like she was about to shove Dor again.

“Settle down,” Dor said.

“Make me.”

She could have. Dor was absolutely certain she had the upper hand if it came to a duel. She had a panoply of spells that would help her win a fight. She imagined casting [Ben’s Petrosapien] to tower over the other girl, sliding her crystalline arms into long, intimidating blades. Part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to duel the other girl, to haul her back to the Time Bureau, to turn her backside scarlet.

“This is not why we’re here,” Dor said.

“Gahh!” Elmira stomped from the lockerroom, flushed and furious.

Dor watched her go.

“Any other captain would spank a girl who behaved like that,” Bea said.

Dor felt herself deflate. She turned to regard the other girls. “Do you think I should spank her?”

“Yes,” said Cherry immediately, then blushed.

Bea shrugged. “I’m not sure. Any other captain would have spanked us for our poor performance on the field.”

Dor looked at Bea. “Do you think I should spank you?” She thought about the time she’d asked Jean for a spanking, ostensibly because she’d neglected their shared meditation practice.

None of the girls replied.

“I think you all played as hard as you could. There’s a big difference between eleven years old and sixteen. If you really want me to spank you, all you have to do is ask. But I don’t think it’s warranted. I think Elmira’s anger is misplaced. I’m proud of you for not giving up.”

“All right. I’m finished. How do we send this to Director Sharpe?”

Dor looked up from the letter she’d just finished to Sister Mary Margaret. She had no idea if the hateful woman had read any of the letters she’d sent, but it felt responsible to keep her informed of what she’d been doing and that she was all right. Besides, she liked the idea that her letters might irritate Sister Mary Margaret.

Dor took a long breath and blinked to return herself to the moment. After Elmira’s blowup in the lockerroom, Dor had expected her to refuse to talk to her. But now they sat in their shared room, writing letters as though old companions. Elmira hadn’t said another word about the football match and had instead asked for help writing a report to Director Sharpe.

“We can either ‘walk to the Time Bureau and hand deliver it, or go to the Bazaar and put it in the mailbox.”

Elmira looked puzzled. “Why send a letter when you could just go see a person and speak with them?”

Dor thought about the time she’d accidentally spied on Minwu and Li in an intimate situation, and about the Chens who’d she’d imposed upon enough, and about Sister Mary Margaret who she felt obligated to keep informed but did not want to see face to face.

“Sometimes I think better in writing. Sometimes I don’t want to intrude. I can just take you to the Time Bureau so you can give your report, if that’s what you prefer.”  

Elmira nodded like that made sense. “Take me to the Bazaar.”

They walked through the warp pipe from the village to the library. They climbed the wide, stone steps guarded by a pair of stone-carved dinosaurs in repose. They made their way through the entry to the back where they’d found a quiet corner before. Elmira took Dor’s hand and they walked into the bookshelf through to the Infinite Library.

On the other side, Elmira shivered and let go.

They walked through the library without speaking. Dor let her fingers brush the spines of the books on the shelf to her left, wondering what it meant that the card [Dor’s Library] had manifested for a moment upon her grimoire. It hadn’t stayed, ephemeral and evanescent. There was power here, in the Infinite Library, in L-space, in her ability to navigate the multiverse while surrounded by titanic shelves stuffed with books.

Soon they emerged into Mr. Minhaj’s bookshop. He stood at his counter with a small pile of books and looked up at them as they stepped from the bookshelf.

“Hello, Mr. Minhaj. We’re just passing through. I hope that’s all right?”

“Any time, Ms. Grimoire.”

Elmira looked around at the Bazaar of Baghdad like a person trying not to be impressed, someone trying not to gawk. Dor slowed her step so the other girl could spend some time takin in the sights. She liked seeing Elmira like this. It was better than the scolding girl from the lockerroom.

Soon they entered the post office and Post the Mailmoogle fluttered off the counter when they entered.

“Dorothy! It’s always good to see you, kupo!”

Elmira grabbed Dor’s hand reflexively at the exclamation. “What…” She bit her tongue on the question, but Dor understood.

“This is Post, a moogle,” Dor introduced the small, white-furred being with black, bat-like wings and wide, dark eyes. “Post, this is my… this is Elmira. She’d like to send a letter, please. I’ll pay the postage.”

“Of course.” Post explained the process to Elmira, who didn’t seem remotely interested. She handed over her badge to create the stamp for sending a letter to the Time Bureau, and that was that.

“Oh, and here are your letters, Dorothy” Post said, producing a small stack of envelopes.

“You get letters?” Elmira said.

“Oh, yes,” Post answered. “Ms. Dorothy has several regular correspondents.”

Elmira frowned.

They walked back to Academy Magyck in silence.

Kya often forwarded her letters with an apology for not writing more, but explaining that she thought her life was comparatively boring. She assured Dor that her parents and the restaurant were doing well. She described her progress with waterbending. She discussed her relationship with Shiro

Shiro is sweet. I really do like him. But, he’s maybe a little too sweet. He’s pretty good at holding my hand, always asks before he kisses me, and hasn’t threatened to spank me even once. Which, now I write it down, are probably all good things. I just can’t see him helping me flood a gangster’s hideout. 

Maybe he’d spank me if you suggested it?

Love,

Kya

Gwendolyn had written several letters about her adventures with her grandfather and cousin over the course of a summer. She described the supervillains they’d faced and the aliens they’d met, and though her cousin Benjamin had been at the center of it all, Gwen didn’t diminish her own role in their success at keeping the planet safe. Lately though, Gwen had mostly written about how her life had settled down.

I had hoped that sixth grade, starting middle school, would mark an increase in academic rigor. Instead, school has been boring. I suppose, after a summer fighting biker gangs, mad scientists, and an alien warlord, regular academics can’t really compare.

My parents are happy with how well I’m doing, so I can’t tell them how boring school is now. Thanks for letting me complain to you.

Your friend,

Gwendolyn Tennyson

Minwu’s letters were about the babies.

The twins are ten months old. I can hardly believe it.

They’ve always been vocal, but I think their babbling is getting closer to actual words. I told Li we should speak to them in full sentences to encourage their growth. It’s still early for them to speak their first words, but I can’t help but think about early education. 

Vivi continues to sleep through most of the day, which is understandable given he was born a little early…

And she always ended her letters with,

Li sends his love,

Minwu 

As it approached midnight, Dor and Magpie padded to the back door in their long, flowy nighties. Dor had a thick, folded quilt over one arm. Magpie had a basket filled with candles. Dor had asked Magpie if she wanted the other girls of Zed Team to join them, but the quiet girl had just shaken her head. So the rest stayed in bed as Dor and Magpie went out the small back door at the kitchen and a little way up into the hills behind the village.

Overhead, a fat, yellow gibbous moon led the way.

They found a shallow hill with a broad top. Dor spread out the quilt. Magpie set up the candles around the quilt. There were thick ones and thin ones, tall ones and short ones, smelling of beeswax and lavender, all sitting in ceramic holders to keep them upright. Magpie gave Dor a book of matches and they set about lighting the candles.

Dor sat on the quilt, crossing her legs under the voluminous nightie.

Magpie pulled her nightie over her head and dropped it at the edge of the quilt. She was a slim, slight girl with smooth, pale skin and tiny, dark nipples. She sat and crossed her legs, facing Dor, then began to efficiently unbraid her black hair from the pair of braids she usually kept it in.

“Um…” said Dor, blushing.

“There’s a tradition in the Eastern Reaches of nude moonlit meditations,” Magpie said. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t have to,” Magpie said.

“No, no,” said Dor. “It’s fine.” She got to her knees and pulled her nightie up, over her head, folding it neatly, then sending it to her laundry bag with a quick casting of [Dor’s Mindpocket]. She joined Magpie in unbraiding her long, auburn hair, shaking her head to loosen it and letting it fall down her back in waves. The night air was chill. Her skin goosepimpled. Her nipples pebbled. Magpie looked at her with calm anticipation.

“May I connect our minds?” Dor asked. Magpie nodded, so Dor cast [Jean’s Telepathy].

Magpie’s mental touch was light, a voice on the wind.

The candles flickered in their small ceramic holders, golden light pooling at their bases and stretching toward the moon. Magpie sat cross-legged on the quilt, her long black hair loose over her shoulders, her pale skin dappled in silver. Across from her, Dor mirrored her posture, their knees nearly touching. The night air was cool, raising bumps along their arms, but neither of them shivered.

Dor reached for Magpie’s mind again, careful, deliberate. [Jean’s Telepathy] hummed between them, softer than a whisper.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dor said.

The cavernous mental greathall spread around them, lit by the candles around them and the moon above them. They still sat on the shallow hill outside, air a cool kiss against naked skin, but he mental greathall was no less real for it.

Magpie inhaled, and in the space between heartbeats, a single note rang out, the same high, clear tone from earlier, when she had first dared to sing. And then…

Somewhere over the rainbow…

Dor’s breath hitched. The melody bloomed between them, reverberating through the connection, resonating in her bones. The song wasn’t coming from Magpie alone. It circled back, an echo from deep within the recesses of thought, whether hers or Magpie’s, Dor was uncertain.

Dor let her mind stretch toward it, toward the light of Magpie’s magic. She saw it now, the shape of it, flickering in the dark, a candle in an endless great hall, its glow small but steadfast, waiting for the moon to catch it.

“That’s it,” Magpie whispered, though Dor wasn’t sure if it was with her mouth or her mind. her breath deepened. She closed her eyes, and as she exhaled, the candles in her mind swayed, flames guttered, flickered, and then she was gone.

Not gone.

Translucent.

Moonlight poured through Magpie’s form, stretching her edges like mist. Her dark braids shimmered, her skin turned glassy, like rippling water reflecting the night sky.

“Specterform,” Dor realized.

Her heart pounded. She reached out, and the moment her fingertips met Magpie’s barely-there arm, the spell took root inside her. A card flitted into existence in her mindpocket.

Magpie’s Specterform

Cost:    1BB

Type:    Creature – Specter

Text:     Unblockable

            When this deals damage to a player, that player discards a card at random.

P/T:     2/2

Note:    This spell allows Dor to transform into a specter (rather than summoning one). She learns it by meditating nude under the moonlight with Margaret Lombardi.

            In this form, Dor becomes intangible. She can walk through walls and is immune to physical attacks, but she also cannot interact with the physical world. Further, she attacks with fear, causing psychic damage to her targets.