Day in the story: 16th December (Tuesday)

"Peter Stark, you are under arrest," said Agent Parker.

There was a shuffle, Peter being pushed, though he didn't seem to resist. I dropped everything and teleported straight to my room, orienting myself, feeling him close. The pull pointed toward EoT Island. So it was after his meeting with Zoe. They must have been monitoring her to get to him.

"Do you have a warrant for my arrest? What's the probable cause?" Peter's voice was calm, steady. He studied law, so the questions came naturally. Or maybe, with his Domain active, nothing felt dangerous to him right now.

"Not going to ask about Miranda rights?" Parker asked.

"Is this part of questioning? If so, you should have read them to me first—as far as I know."

"No, it's not questioning," Agent Sull cut in. "He's just talking to himself." Strange duo, those two.

"Are you going to answer?" Peter pressed as I hurled myself toward the ground, ready to sprint to him the moment I landed.

"We have a warrant. It's about the disappearance of Mr. Jason Smith."

"I see. Wasn't that on Discovery Channel?"

I stopped cold.

"What?" Parker's voice sharpened. "What do you mean?"

They kept talking, but I barely heard them. I hadn't heard Peter use that phrase in years—not since the orphanage. Back then, when the nuns wanted me to confess to something, Peter would step in with, "Wasn't that on Discovery Channel?" to tell me he'd take the blame.

He was telling me now: Don't come. They had nothing on him. They'd hold him, then release him. He could handle it.

I, on the other hand, was needed elsewhere. As much as I hated leaving him, it was the right move. I'd already caused a stir sprinting through New York at more-than-human speed, so I ignored the gawkers and teleported straight into Lebens' training hall.

Nick was waiting.

"You're not going to like it," he started, which usually meant he was right, "but the guy who was supposed to help us can't make it."

Or maybe he was wrong, that actually sounded good. I preferred working with people I already knew.

"Sounds awesome," I said.

"He sent a woman in his place."

Damn. He was right after all.

"A woman? Does she have a name? Does Dam know her? Because you're right—I hate the idea already."

"Father doesn't know her, but Marek vouches for her. With his life."

"So… a man I don't know swears she's fine. Great. She's a Hexblade too?"

"Yes. Works with Marek. She was free, so he asked her to help. She agreed."

"Out of the goodness of her heart, she's just volunteering to join strangers in one of the most dangerous places in New York?" I gave him a look. "Come on, Nick. I know you feel it too. Even with your Domain's warped people-reading, this smells wrong."

He frowned. "I know. But she's already here. Upstairs."

I focused on the card I'd left Malik. "I can hear them. Your father and her. She's way too cheerful for me." She sounded excited about all of this. That was bad. "What's her Domain?"

"…basically—dogs."

"Dogs? As in canines? The animals?"

"Yes."

"You realize that's worse, right? If we go by Domain logic, someone obsessed with dogs has loyalty cranked to max. You think that loyalty's to us, or her usual pack?"

"You want to ditch her?"

I nodded.

"Are you going for Peter still? Should I bring Malik?"

"She already knows I'm down here," I said. "They're coming." I hesitated. "Peter's not. FBI has him under arrest."

Nick's face darkened.

"He told me to focus on getting Jason out. And since your guest and the rest are on their way, slipping out isn't an elegant option."

"Ok, Alexa, listen to me carefully." Nick's tone was deliberate. "We take her anyway. I get your reservations, but we can't be picky. Any help is good help—even if it's just a disguise for something else."

"The whole trust until betrayed thing?"

"Yes. And if she betrays us, I'll be the first to stand against her."

Not like he could do much against the Guild, if I understood the situation right. Still… he'd earned the right to be my friend.

"You know what, Leben? You led us before, you'll lead us now. You're more level-headed than me. Things went downhill when I started doing everything solo, so… I'm giving you the reins. I'll follow your lead."

His brows lifted. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'm task-focused. Give me a target, I'll hit it. But leading? Picking the best team? That's you. Even your Domain backs you up."

"It does," he admitted. "Thanks."

"Just remember to call me Jess Hare." I've added and he nodded.

The door from the safe zone opened, and Dam stepped in first—all big frame and quiet confidence. For a heartbeat, all I could think of were our training bouts in this very hall. One day, I'd beat him fair and square.

Malik followed, and then her.

She wore tactical gear that was half modern SWAT—Kevlar plating over torso, legs, and neck—and half mage-warrior, the armor flowing into a long, coat-like garment. Pockets stuffed fuller than mine, a bag slung over her shoulder, pistol at her hip, and a wakizashi strapped to her left thigh.

She looked mid-thirties, with faint smile-lines around her mouth and eyes. The kind people get from laughing often and not caring about hiding it. Brown skin, brown eyes, black hair, shorter than me but built with compact muscle. Not the kind of beauty that stops a room, but there was nothing forgettable about her either.

Dam watched me with that please-don't-blow-up look, but lucky for him, I knew how to play nice when it suited me.

"Hi," I said brightly, stepping up to the woman and extending my hand. She took it—firm squeeze, enough to make it personal, not enough to hurt. "Jessica Hare. Thanks for coming to help us."

"What the hell?" Malik blurted. All eyes went to him.

"This isn't—" He started, but quickly closed his mouth.

"What?" I laughed when the woman dropped my hand and tensed.

"It's her," Nick said, backing me up. "We just decided I'd be leading the squad from now on."

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"Seriously?" Malik asked.

"Yes, kid. I'll follow and play by the rules."

"I can already see what you've mentioned, Damien," the woman said smoothly. "Caroline Jackson. Tracker for the Hexblades. Excited to help you guys."

"For a dog mage, you're seriously lacking the dogs," I said.

She smiled like I'd just set up her favorite punchline. "Loki's in my Domain—short for Goldilocks. Golden Retriever. My powers let me call her or send her back whenever I want. You'll love her. She's a bit short-tempered, though."

I caught Malik glancing at me when she said short-tempered. He wisely kept the comeback buried in his own... Domain.

"Wasn't there supposed to be another guy with you?" Caroline asked.

"He won't be joining us," Nick said, matter-of-fact. He adjusted the overstuffed backpack slung over his shoulders—full of food and gear. "I'm ready to go if you are."

"Can't wait!" Caroline chirped.

Malik drifted closer to me, unusually quiet.

"Something bothering you?" I asked.

He gave me a side-eye. "Still can't believe it's really you."

"Yeah, it's me, Malik. New me. All cheerful and ready to take whatever life throws at me." My sarcasm was so thick, it could've been bottled. "So, let's go, shall we?"

**********

"That. Was. Awesome!" Caroline shouted each word like its own victory cry as the world blurred and reassembled into the apartment below our fiery chef fight. I figured it was safer to start here.

"I have never met a mage with such a powerful movement ability."

"I hear that a lot," I said, watching her dart straight to the window—the one with my painted black hole still gaping in the glass. The body we'd used to block it was gone, along with the rest of the unreflected corpses.

"I bet! I wonder what that is." She pointed at the hole.

I gave Nick a look. "We're really doing this, boss?"

He sighed.

"Doing what?" Caroline asked.

"Just thinking out loud about how we'd have to explain all our tricks."

Nick shot me his own look.

"Sorry. I'm better at working alone." I gestured toward the window. "That's a painting of a hole. When I want it active, it works like a real one. Capiche?"

"Oh, yeah—Dam told me a little about your powers." She tapped the edge with her finger and hit solid glass.

"It's not active right now," I said.

"What's the plan?" Malik asked, turning to Nick.

"I say we change into corporate suits, head for One World Trade Center, and make a plan from there."

"May I propose we look around first?" Caroline asked.

"Sure, we can do that," Nick said.

I walked over to the hole, touched it, and my shadowlight flared right on cue. Without waiting, I stepped through, letting gravity tip sideways until my boots landed against the bridge-building's exterior wall.

A quick glance showed a small group of people farther down the bridge, escorted by a policeman on horseback. Otherwise, it was empty. The sky was blissfully drake-free.

Behind me, Malik jumped through next, then Caroline, with Nick bringing up the rear. Caroline stumbled at the shift in gravity but recovered fast, smiling as she took it all in.

"Truth be told," she said, "I've never been here without my squad. It's a miracle you made it this far."

"We went farther!" Malik piped up, eager to boast.

"So you avoided the horde by changing into corporate suits? Blending in?" She pointed toward the mirrored City Streets below, where streams of people moved like undulating mass.

"Yes!" Malik said, grinning. "It was my idea."

"Good thinking," Caroline replied, "but unnecessary. We can move through just as we are. Just don't get bored as both versions of them are drawn to it. The drones want to join in, the overseers want to stamp it out."

That actually made sense. They had started noticing us when we slowed down before.

"Are you sure your friend is inside One World?" she asked.

"Relatively sure," I said.

"That's unfortunate. I want you to assume he might already be gone—"

"Why is that unfortunate? Just because he might be dead?" I cut in.

"You think that's a small reason?"

"I think it's irrelevant. He could've been dead the second they took him. I still decided to try and get him out. I want to at least see the body before I give up on him entirely."

"That's admirable," she said. Nick nodded, Malik smiled. Still not a hero, guys.

"But there's another reason," Caroline continued. "We Hexblades avoid One World as a bridge-building. Unreflected were already thick in New York before it went up—" Malik snorted at that, "—but afterward, their numbers quadrupled, and they gained a god. The whole building is a Lucid shadow. One Unreflected isn't much trouble for a competent mage, but a swarm of them? Add the Shattered and their god to the mix, and you've got a real problem."

"And yet," I said, "you still decided to come with us."

"I did," Caroline said, "because Shattered can be bargained with. If we meet one, we might actually get Jason back—Jason, right?"

We nodded.

"Right. They'll trade, if you have something they want."

"But we have nothing to barter with," Nick said.

"Not yet," she replied, her smile just a little too confident. "If we caught one—or more—of the Shattered, they might be willing to swap them for your friend."

"Have you ever fought them?" I asked. "They turn into mirror shards when you hit them. How exactly do you plan to catch one?"

Caroline's smile sharpened. "It's time you met my friend."

I tensed.

"Loki, come on out!" she called suddenly surrounded by golden shadowlight.

A golden retriever materialized beside her, stepping out of thin air like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"This is Loki. Loki, meet our team, our new friends—Nick, Malik, and Jess."

The dog's warm brown eyes moved to each of us in turn.

"Nice to meet you!" Loki said.

I flinched.

"Talking dog!" Malik blurted, voicing exactly what we were all thinking.

It was so cool.

Not that I could show how cool I thought it was. A girl with a reputation had to keep her composure… except I didn't. I dropped to my knees, grinning like an idiot as I patted her head.

"I like you too!" Loki said to me, tail thumping.

Oh my Reality.

"Why did you bring her out?" Nick asked, far less enchanted.

The sunlight caught in Loki's fur, turning every golden strand into something almost divine. Here and there, swirls of shadowlight shimmered across her coat, curling into her eyes in a way that matched her coloring perfectly.

I intensified the patting. She deserved it.

"I brought Loki out to show you something. Nick, please run away."

"What?"

"Run. Like you mean it. Try to get away from us."

"Ok," Nick said—and bolted.

He didn't just run, either. He used his authority to bring strength out of some food he ate. He poured power into this run, the kind that made his steps crack sharp against the glassy surface beneath us.

Caroline tracked him like a hawk. Her usual easy grin was gone, replaced by a look of razor focus.

"Loki—catch!" she commanded and a thin line of authority—like a leash appeared between her and the dog.

The golden retriever slid gracefully out from under my hand and took off. Her run wasn't just fast, it was wrong in the way that made your instincts bristle. Too smooth, too efficient. Every bound ate up yards of space, her paws leaving streaks of golden shadowlight in the air, each one dissolving like sunlight through dust.

She closed in. Five feet. Four. Three—

Loki stopped dead. She jerked her head back as if yanking on something unseen.

Nick hit the ground like he'd been clotheslined by a ghost.

"Woah!" I shouted, sprinting toward them.

By the time I reached his side, Nick was gasping for air, his limbs sluggish as if they were no longer entirely his. Loki stood in front of him, teeth bared—not in a snarl, but in the grim certainty of something holding a captured prey.

"Release, Loki," Caroline ordered.

The dog let go of whatever invisible tether she'd been gripping, and Nick sucked in a sharp breath, propping himself up on shaking arms to stare at her.

"I couldn't move a muscle," Nick said between heaving breaths. "The moment she caught me, it was like my authority was stripped away. What was that?"

"My power lets me give normal commands to my companion," Caroline explained, "but they're amplified by Loki's own understanding of them. When I say catch, she locks whatever she catches in place. They can't move a single inch until I say otherwise. I've stopped Shattered from escaping with this before—well, Loki has, but with a little stronger version of this command. One that locks her catch in time."

It was both an incredibly cool power and a little terrifying.

"Loki's also stronger, faster, and tougher than a normal dog… and she can talk, as you've all heard."

"I can!" Loki said, tail wagging like she'd just been paid the highest compliment.

"Go home now, Loki," Caroline said.

Loki bounded forward, leapt—and vanished.

"This is the same soulmark that lets her do all that, right?" I asked. "You taught her the Domain is her home?"

"You're very perceptive, Jess," Caroline replied. "It's all done through one soulmark, that of Command."

Her power was deceptively simple at first glance, but the more I thought about it, the more potential I saw. I loved it.

"Why'd you call her back? She was cool," Malik complained.

"Not for everyone," Nick muttered under his breath.

"I called her because she gets bored easily," Caroline said. "And that would've been a problem for what we have to do today."

"Yes. Now that we have a semblance of a plan, we should move toward One World Trade," Nick said, standing and adjusting his jacket.

We followed without question, orienting ourselves toward the ground of the Mirrored City that loomed so close before us. The sight never stopped being both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling—an entire city stretched out in front of me, as if it were painted on a vertical wall. Streets teemed with people weaving between barely moving cars, a horde of corporate zombies trudging along their endless loops.

When we reached the edge of the building-bridge, we leapt—falling into the gravity of that place.

Now we were weaving between those city-dreamt drones, and I began to wonder about the act of it. How does it actually happen that an object, or a group of them—from our world dreams or projects ideas into this one?

It's not done in the mind, that much is clear; not everything has a mind. Was the soul then the source of consciousness? It would have to be. But that would imply everything back on Earth has some degree of it, or at least a soul.

[Some souls are not conscious; they are just like animas.]

Right! You must be right, Anansi. Most of them must be like animas—unconscious yet still able to project their self-image into this world.

The question then became: at what point does an object acquire a soul? If I create something out of different things, does it have its own soul, or a combination of the souls from those parts? Creating art, knowing all this—and asking these questions—becomes something more than simply trying to capture the truth of something else. It becomes its own truth, with its own soul.

[Malik just asked you about Peter.]

Oh. Got lost in thought. Thanks, Anansi.

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