To all my American readers, happy early 4th of July! It's the one day of the year where parents will let their kids anywhere near explosives. :D Well, my parents wouldn't let me within a 50-yard range, but I'd rather look at all the pretty lights from those explosives anyway.


All was quiet down below in the dark recesses of the crypt. Miles above, on the surface of the bustling London city, the sun would be just beginning to shyly peak over the grand steeples of the metropolis and preparing to herald the dawn with vibrant hues of flaming red and golden yellow, but here, in the secluded resting place of the dead, no shining rays of light would ever caress these weathered tombs, which was rather fitting in a way. After all, everyone knows the imprudence of waking the dead.

It was here, in this place of shadows and death that Mulan had found herself. Like a child playing with fire, the fallen angel absentmindedly let her fingers stroke the thin air separating her from the blest tombs; bearing the names of Lord Nelson, Lord Wellington, Sir Christopher Wren's, and many other nobles who were perhaps people once, but since then had been long forgotten in the pages of history that bore only names and deeds, not face or mind or heart. The mortality of it all was striking.

The tombs still reeked of incense and holy water, even after all the centuries, so she was careful to never make direct contact with the worn stone, lest she suddenly be consumed by the flames that would drag her into oblivion. Oh, how fitting, how easy it would be simply end her immortal life of hardship then and there, but she knew she couldn't. She still had a role to play in all of this, this dangerous game that had ended in tragedy every time Mulan had played.

So maybe it was time to change the rules.

Fortunately, patience was a virtue that most immortal beings learned to uphold as Mulan waited for Lucie to make one of her grand appearances. The situation reminded her horribly of the meeting on that hillside in Italy all those centuries ago, although she hoped that this time around, there would be a better ending. She wanted answers, and she intended on getting them at any cost.

"Late again, Lucia," Mulan chastised as Lucie supersped into the crypt.

"I prefer the term fashionably late," Lucie countered, this time, devoid of all sarcasm and mockery, her heart not truly in it.

"A term that can only be applied to social engagements, which given our current location, cannot possibly apply to this meeting," Mulan stated bluntly. "Regardless, I did agree to this, simply because, as you can imagine, I want answers, Lucia."

"As do I. However, I'll be a courteous hostess and let you begin."

With a curt nod, Mulan drifted through the maze of stone coffins until she was a considerable distance away from Lucie. She decided to start off with the simplest question. "You unchained me," Mulan said thoughtfully, exposing both her arms to reveal the raw, chaffed marks surrounding her wrists. "Why?"

"I wanted to speak to you as an equal," Lucie replied, to which Mulan nodded in understanding; judging by Lucie's appearance, there was a mark of sincerity. Without her typical silver diadem and scepter of gold and electrum, Lucie looked more vulnerable, less like the glorious leader of the Conclave of Lexicon and more like the innocent child Mulan had once comforted and grown to love.

Removing the figurative mask of dignity she had become so accustomed to wearing in public, Lucie's probing eyes scrutinized the angel's bedraggled appearance with a glimmer of soft concern before declaring, "Imprisonment does not suit you."

Indeed, it didn't. Over the course of Mulan's four months in captivity, her once majestic stature had devolved into one of disarray. Her shimmering azure gown bedecked with silver stars was marred by jagged rips in the seams, and her ebony hair was snarled into a crown of barbed wire. She was gaunt and haggard, with spindly bones poking out from her flesh and dark shadows rimming her eyes like bruises. Even her wings, once a resplendent bronze, had dulled to a worn copper to reflect her sadness. There was a haunted look in her eyes, most likely from being bored out of her mind as she waited in vain to learn the repercussions of her actions. She was used to beating her head forcefully against the brick walls of her prison in an attempt to break the torturous monotone of solitude. For the most part, her presence had been largely neglected, except for two Conclavians strictly forcing her to remain quiet during silent hours, 7:30 and 8:00 on weekday mornings in addition to 10:15, 11:30, 3:15, and 6:00 on Sundays, which Mulan assumed to be the times when trains from the London Underground came near the Conclave. It was a terrible feeling for Mulan to feel so powerless against her destiny when she had always been the one to fight – and in most cases, win – the battle of fighting fate.

"I heard about the passing of the Disowned Element of Love," Lucie said, referring to Rosalie Winters, the girl who had betrayed them all on Lexicon only to meet a demise of her own doing. "I am… sorry. I know how dear she must have been to you."

Mulan raised her eyebrows in surprise. Was that… sincerity? It was definitely off-kilter from her behavior the last time they met. This was probably just a way, another mind game, to throw her off her guard. That was the rational side talking, the one that had been trained for eons in Heaven to listen to reason, both to combat the powers of Hell and win the hearts of humanity. But over her centuries on Earth, Mulan had learned otherwise. Living in the mortal world had taught her, above all others, that light could dispel despair, hope was not a meaningless illusion, and love could heal even the darkest of hearts with its beauty. And oh, how she wished this were one of those times where beautiful irrationality would win out against the painful jarring of reality.

"She was indeed," Mulan lamented, although making sure to keep the majority of her emotion in check. "But I haven't grieved her loss, nor do I think I will. I have already shed far too many tears over her that they have frozen over into ice, a constant, numbing pain so customary I rarely notice it."

Lucie nodded in understanding, though her eyes still cradled a veiled haughtiness kissed with malice. "Of course, I in this timeline would have no recollection of such cosmic events, but you've turned back time quite a bit, haven't you?"

Mulan nodded as grief ravaged her aching heart and threatened to overflow into tears. "This is the 7,631 time I have gone back in time to repeat the last century." It was almost like a gauntlet had been struck, so powerful was the gravity of her statement.

"All in an attempt to destroy everything I've ever worked for," Lucie said bitterly. "You've tried to rewrite time just to defeat the Conclave of Lexicon, to defeat me. Why me, Mulan? Whatever happened that made you despise me so much that you wish to crush my only true desire? Am I so despicable, so horrid that I am now undeserving of the love you once readily gave me?"

"I don't wish to fight you, Mulan, you know that, right?" Lucie pleaded desperately, reaching out to her in anguish. "In a world that showed me nothing but hate and cruelty, you were the only one who ever showed me love. It's that love that made me want to form the Conclave, to save the human race from its own hatred before it's too late. Is it really so hard to believe that what I'm doing is truly for the best?"

"You only think what you're doing is good, Lucie," replied Mulan sadly. "I cannot blame you for your insanity, an insanity that has led you to commit the most inhumane acts of cruelty without remorse, all because of your delusions. You've taken away people's free will, their very minds—"

"Some of the greatest geniuses in history are noted for their mental instability, and yet they were the ones who were able to bring Planet Earth into a new epoch of advancement. While what I am doing may seem immoral now, I promise you it will turn out for the best. Although, why you see my actions so despicable as to turn back time—"

"It's not just what you're doing," interrupted Mulan, now clasping hands with the Conclave leader. "It's what you're going to discover. It's a terrible secret, Lucie, one not even the Enclave or even you are aware of, and once it comes to light, it will destroy you, the Conclave, and even WordGirl herself. I know; I've seen it happen every single time I've turned back the clock. Plagued with guilt, you will be driven to do the unthinkable, and it will ultimately be your demise. While your curiosity may drive you to unravel this secret, I beg you not to, with every particle of my being. You know better than anyone that knowledge is both a blessing and a curse, and in this case, it is better to for me to whisper sweet lies to you than burden you with such an awful reality."

"If this… Doomsday secret even exists, why tell me of it at all? It seems so inescapable; after all, you've gone back thousands of times with no avail."

"But this time is different," Mulan said with a hint of the feverish excitement of hope. "This is the first time the Symbols of Beauty came back with me to Earth. All the other times I've gone back, all three of them perished on Planet Lexicon as the GenonaXBS killed them all," she said, referencing the device which Amoratta, a Lexiconian scientist, had created in an attempt to save her planet from Miss Power, "and it was always Rosalie, not Jenny, who was the true Element of Love. All the rules have changed now that the Symbols of Beauty have become the essential variable in this horrible time loop I've found myself in, with Jenny somehow finding herself in the center of it all."

"And yet you know she will never succeed," Lucie said. "All other Elements of Love until now have fallen, cursed to spend eternity in the Realm of Beauty Unrequited. What makes you think this time will be any different? You know that true insanity is doing the same thing twice and expecting different results."

"There's nothing else I can do. I have to keep fighting."

"But why do you have to fight at all?!" Lucie cried, losing all reservations of self-control as she reduced herself to pitiful begging. "Do you know how painful this is for me? Please, just join me, Mulan. Forget the Enclave, forget your responsibility to the Elements. You keep trying to change things, but to what avail? Why can't you just give up and surrender to your fate?"

"Because I intend to keep my promise."

Lucie sighed in defeat, suddenly unable to bear looking at the fallen angel. She tore away from Mulan's gaze in disgust and glared furiously at the concrete floor with her hands clenched into fists.

"Fine," Lucie spat, the words tumbling out in a hurried rush as if they tasted horribly bitter in her mouth. "Leave then. You've said what you've wanted to say, and now that you've so clearly made your decision, there is no need for me to keep you here against your will any longer. There is nothing I can say or do to convince you to see my perspective."

"And so we depart again, just as we did a century ago," Mulan declared, her voice hollowed with sorrow, "with neither of us gaining any more mutual understanding than last time. I suppose, at heart, this makes us both the silly girls we once were."

"Oh, it doesn't even matter to me anymore!" Lucie burst out in anger. "Go back to the Enclave just like you always have, and bring them this message: I know they are stockpiling weapons against us, but let me tell them that they won't even get through the door before meeting their demise."

"While that is a fair warning, Lucia, I'm afraid that it will not be delivered by my mouth, for I have no intention of returning to the Enclave. I'll be far away, doing what I have always done: sacrificing all I have for your sake, whether you desire it or not."

"But why?" Lucie asked in the whisper of a child long forgotten as she watched Mulan begin to disappear in a shimmering haze of light.

"Because that's what guardian angels do."


Two hours later, Lucie was still standing there, her mouth agape in a most unladylike fashion as her wide eyes continued to be trained on the spot where Mulan had vanished, as if the pull of her gaze would provide enough gravity to bring the angel back to her. She felt herself drifting, as she often did, along the raging current of her own disjointed thoughts, all of them swirling around her in a clamorous mesh of white noise. She felt strangely untethered from her own consciousness, as if she were having an out-of-body experience where she was looking down upon herself from a great height. It was like a cord had snapped, a single thread tying her to sanity, to hope, to love, to a blind belief that she could have everything she wanted with none of the consequences. She had been lying to herself all this time, and now, when faced with the prospect of continuing onward with anyone's love and support, she wondered if it really had been all a lost cause.

And it made her want to cry.

She was just about to when suddenly, she heard a pair of hurried footsteps stagger down the torch-lit steps leading to the crypt. Lucie looked up just in time to catch Scarlette, looking bruised and bloodied and half-dead, before she collapsed to the ground.

"Scarlette, what happened to you?" Lucie exclaimed, gently setting the woman into a comfortable resting position against the wall, where she labored heavily, her chest heaving with racking coughs, before she spoke.

"I am sorry," she rasped. "I failed my mission. Rebecca is—"

"Please, speak quietly," Lucie whispered. "We are nearing the 7:30 silent hour."

"Forgive me," Scarlette replied hastily, lowering her voice to the faintest whisper. "As I was saying, Rebecca is still alive, and she has the Elements of Hope and Light with her. They are powerful fighters, and armed with Lexonite, it was difficult for me to combat them, though I made a valiant effort."

"It is alright, Scarlette," Lucie reassured with a dignified regality as she once more wore the mask of leadership. "I would expect nothing less of a fighter forced to contend with large quantities of Lexonite, and the fact that you escaped with your life in of itself is remarkable."

"Should we prepare to launch an attack of retaliation on the Enclave?" Scarlette asked.

"No," Lucie demanded firmly. "You know that in order to ensure our success, we must fight here."

At once, a horrid idea occurred to Lucie, causing her lovely features to distort into ones of wicked malevolence. "Let them come," she said in a menacing drawl as she gestured to the plethora of coffins surrounding them. "After all, I bet all these lonely corpses would sure enjoy some new roommates."


Countryside of Palermo, Italy

"Thank you for meeting with me, Homura," Mulan said in detachment, her eyes still turned toward the dying embers of the setting sun, with the light reflecting upon her bronze wings in such a way that they looked to be consumed in flames.

"Of course, child. I would never refuse you," the little Japanese girl replied, coming to stand next to the glorious fallen angel.

Mulan snickered.

"What amuses you?" Homura demanded like a governess reprimanding a particularly unruly charge.

"Irony is truly a blessing in this world," Mulan replied with a spark of laughter. "In all the times I've relieved this century, never before have I seen you take the form of a child."

Annoyance flashing upon the young girl's face, she closed her eyes in concentration, and at once, where there was formerly a diminutive child, there now stood a proud and stately young woman. Her ivory black hair fluttered restlessly around her face, the strands reaching with long tendrils far past the small of her back as they twisted around the almost diaphanous black gown she wore, in sharp contrast with her skin that was pale as the glistening moonlight. But the feature that would capture one's attention first would be her eyes, the coal black irises slowly expanding and mercilessly eating away at the whites of her eyes until they were completely consumed by darkness. They seemed to drain away all surrounding light, as it seemed the sun immediately decided to make way for dusk with frightened haste. It were these cold, black slits that focused on the angel and scrutinized her intently.

"This place holds many memories for you," Homura whispered with a note of empathy.

Indeed it did. She had visited this place so many times, it becoming sort of bittersweet safehaven where she could pour out her heart in solitude, that she wouldn't have been surprised if the grand oak tree atop it had been nurtured through her tears alone. No matter what the reason, Mulan would always here at least once a year, seeking answers, solace, remembrance, something that would make the burden of her life easier to carry. It was funny, but sometimes she felt compelled to believe that all her problems could be solved by digging into the hill's very core and deciphering the secret message in its heart, a heart that throughout the centuries had become so intertwined with hers. It was like though the grand oak tree served as a private sentry, a confidant in whom she could beg for understanding, only to await an answer in vain.

Perhaps with a second immortal companion, this could change.

"Yes," Mulan sighed, addressing no one in particular. "Yes, it does."

Homura nodded in sympathy. "The curse of immortality is a heavy burden to bear."

"And yet a mortal life also comes with hardship. To walk around while thinking in the back of your mind that you are a mere wind-up doll that will eventually stop spinning, to know that you live and breathe on borrowed time, to go to sleep not knowing if your eyes will open to begin another day… I grieve for them as well."

"As befits your tender, compassionate soul," Homura remarked fondly before returning to business. "But enough of that. I did not come to edify you of the brevity of human life of which you are so eloquent, but rather the increasingly dire situation surrounding the figure known as Lucia Manette."

The mention of her name struck a nerve, but Mulan remained silent.

"You come from the past, as well as the future," Homura prodded. "You know of her fate, and by now, any sane being would deem it inescapable. So why do you continue to fight against the inevitable?"

"I… I've met her countless times," Mulan began, turning her head away to veil the emotions bubbling to the surface in the form of a warm trickle of tears. "And I've seen her suffer and fall away every time. I looked for a way to save her, a way to change fate. Trying again and again and again. I've tried to explain it to her, the sheer magnitude of what she means to me, but she doesn't understand. But I don't expect her to. I never do. Although I would love it, I would give anything to be surprised, just once. She views me as only a childhood guardian to be discarded along with the rest of her past that she'd rather forget. But for me… " At this, Mulan's voice was choked off by emotion, momentarily unable to continue.

"The more I repeated the circle," she resumed without a hitch, "the more our timelines drifted apart. Our feelings, too… and my words wouldn't reach her anymore. And although I started losing her, I… I think I was lost a long time ago.

"The most important thing to me is saving her. It always has been. She is and always has been the only thing left showing me the way. She is all I live for. If I give up, if I lose her, if I fail… I become nothing. I have to keep trying, keep believing there is a way, both for her and myself."

Wordlessly, Homura took out the swirling black and white orb from the Angelic Black Market.

"The reason I both love and hate you," Mulan stated bluntly in response to the cursed object.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Homura replied monotonously. "I know the reason you're here. You want me to make the Choice for them. I am sorry, but I will not force Lucia or Princess Alexandria's hand in this, as you are well aware. The choice is theirs, not mine."

"But you're a monster for even offering. They'd never accept if they knew what that thing really is. Even Lucie isn't that cruel."

"And yet the Choice is your only hope to save Lucia and escape this hopeless time loop you're in."

"But will they make the right choice?"

"Oh Mulan, you should know by now," Homura chided, her inky black eyes looking out to an even darker horizon.

"There isn't one."


So much foreshadowing! And yes, I brought Homura back *cough* she's important! *cough*. Trust me, she'll be vital to the climax for Part 3 of this series, so while she won't have much to do in this story, keep her in the back of your minds. Honestly, while I know what I want to do with her, she's basically my wild card for those days when I want to say 'screw it; just let the world burn.' :D

Okay, so I know this was a shorter one, but trust me, Chapter 8, "To Die for the Cause," will more than make up for it. Here's a teaser trailer!

"I decided to come because of you," Syrena replied. "That's the only reason why. I'm not going to have a repeat of what happened yesterday with Scarlette, where you were put in danger because of something I did. You're one of the only true friends I've ever had, the only friend I have now, and I'm not going to lose you."

"Still," Syrena continued, dropping her voice to a serious whisper. "I do wish you'd reconsider how you feel about this. I mean, do you really think this is the right thing to do?"

"I…" In all the time Syrena had known Kerry, never before had she looked so lost and unsure of herself. And it was in this split second of realization that Syrena asked herself in silent horror:

Oh God, what is this horrid mission doing to us?

"I… I just don't know anymore."

Ciao for now!

Love to all,

Bella