To RandomFanAuthor- she's neeeevvveeerrrrrrr getting her memories back! Mwhahaha!

To HoO Fan- (Chapter 62) CRY. Monsters thrive on tears ^_^


"How's it go- what the hell have you done to her head?" Leo blanched. Calypso laughed.

"You should have seen it the first time!" She grinned. Juni's hairstyles were getting mildly less hectic, but even so- they could hardly see Louisa's hair for ribbons and bows. Calypso had tried to teach her simple styles, but Juni liked adding her own ideas.

"If she wakes up, like, right this second, you're both dead, you know that?"

"Awww, I reckon she'll love it!" Juni snickered, clapping and bouncing. Leo sighed, shaking his head.

"The poor girl is practically in a coma and you're defiling her hair!"

"Ooh, defiling." Calypso teased. "I think they suit her."

"They don't suit anyone."

"What, you take that back!" Juni ordered, horrified. She stood on the bed, almost nose-to-nose with Leo and glaring. Leo narrowed his eyes a fraction, resolute. Her response to that, without breaking eye contact, was to attach a large, blue sparkly bow to the lock of hair hanging onto his forehead. She beamed and returned to fixing up Louisa's hair.

"So attractive." Calypso mock-swooned, fanning herself. Leo sighed.

"Juni." He said, flourishing his hand. "Give me the biggest, most garish bow you've got."

"Don't you dare-" Calypso warned. Juni looked between them. On the one hand, Calypso had given her all the ribbons. On the other, she had also denied Juni from styling her hair. And here was Leo, itching to do it himself.

Her hand picked up a bow, moving slowly. Calypso stared at her, wide-eyed and disbelievingly. Juni didn't look away, robotically reaching out to lower the bow into Leo's outstretched hand. "Juni." She said. "You're no longer my favourite."

"Sacrifices must be made." Juni said quietly. Then she grinned, wicked and impish. "Get her, Leo! Get her, get her!"


Louisa found herself in a forest clearing. It seemed to be quite early in the evening, the sky a soft, pastel pink-orange. The breeze was cool, the leaves were rustling, every hue of red through to amber and then yellow. She was quite content here, strolling through, stepping over tree roots, inhaling the scent of pine trees and fall mulch.

It seemed she had no destination. She was simply a six-year-old, walking in the woods, enjoying the subtle sounds of nature. How did she know she was six? No idea, she just felt it in her gut. She was six. She was alone. She was a little hungry, but wasn't worried about it just yet. She just wanted to walk.

A single noise broke the peace- a startled, high-pitched peal of a scared animal. She was immediately in a defensive crouch. Monsters liked to disguise themselves as injured animals. She had fallen for it too many times. Her fingers found her watch, a gift from her father. The sword sprang into her hand, perfectly balanced in her childish grasp. Her older self reflected on it through these young eyes- had the sword grown with her?

She heard the noise again, a rustling. A voice came with the noise. Help! I'm stuck, help!

Louisa didn't move, running that voice through her mind. Because that's where it was. She heard the voice in her mind, not her ears. She had only heard fish talk in her mind before and last she checked, fish didn't dwell amongst tree roots.

Please help!

It seemed to come through the bushes, just to her left. She inched forward, sword at the ready, just in case. I'm here, I'm here!

It was not a monster.

It was a foal. With wings. It whickered pleadingly at her, dark eyes pained, spindly leg caught in a thorn bush. Louisa considered it for a moment; the thorns seemed to have wound themselves around the leg. How had that happened?

The foal whinnied, shaking their head. Please help me, please help me!

"You're talkin' to me." She said. The foal looked at her, sniffing the air.

You are like my master. Please help.

"OK." Louisa set her sword down beside the foal, a young filly, leaning closer to examine the trapped leg. There was no yanking it loose. She lay a hand on the foal's neck, stroking the dappled grey fur with her fingers as she thought. "OK, I'm gonna try 'n' cut you out. Don't move."

Thank you.

With the tip of her sword, she cut the thorns back bit by bit. She scraped her hands and lower arms quite a bit, wincing at the multitude of stinging pains. The foal huffed and snorted, her leg bleeding in various places.

The sky had turned a deeper orange by the time she had finished. She gently tugged the foal out, setting her on the grass and stretching out her injured leg carefully. "It don't look broken." She said, scratching her chin. "Um, hold on." She had a small rucksack, where had she got that? It was worn and dirty, but she seemed attached to it. Inside, a spare change of clothes, a toothbrush, some snacks, a water bottle, a little first aid kit that held bandages, wipes, squares of ambrosia and a few vials of nectar.

She took the water bottle, dribbling the contents on her hands and arms as she thought. The foal watched, amazed, as her wounds sealed.

Does that work on me?

"Oh. I dunno." Louisa looked at her hand, flexing her fingers. Water healed her naturally, she did not put any thought into it. But if she tried, could she heal someone else?

With a wiggle of her fingers, water spiralled from the bottle and pooled into her hand. She sprinkled it on the wounded leg, imagining the cuts and scrapes healing like her own. The foal watched too, curious and snuffling Louisa's arm.

For a moment, nothing happened. She tried again, pressing her watery hand to the leg instead. It was instantaneous, she laughed victoriously, grinning. Within seconds, the leg was as good as new. The foal snorted, surprised and pleased, clumsily rising onto her hooves. Louisa stood as well, holding her hands out as the foal tottered. "You OK now?"

I am! Thank you!

"How'd you get stuck there?" The foal's joy faded, ears drooping, wings shuffling nervously.

I… I was running away. My mother told me to run.

"Run? From what?"

The monster. It had one eye, snuck up on us. It hurt my mother; she could not fly. She told me to run.

"You're… you're alone." Louisa lay her hand on the filly's nose. "I'm sorry."

You are alone too.

"Yeah."

What is your name?

"Louisa. Yours?"

Mother called me Storm.

"Storm. That's a cool name."

I owe you, Louisa. You saved me. Louisa looked round. This memory tingled in her chest. She missed her pegasus. She missed that rambunctious, challenging nature that matched her own; she missed soaring through the sky on her back, knowing it was the only way she could fly; she missed the smell of hay and apples, the clip-clop of hooves and the feel of her fur and feathers on a bad day.

"Let's stick together." She said. "I don't wanna be alone anymore."


Lucy-Jo ducked and parried. Calypso took a stab at her. The next thing she knew, her sword was sailing from her grasp and clattering across the floor of the training hall.

"I thought you said Lou taught you?"

"She did. Only a bit. I'm not very good with swords."

"Have you tried anything else?"

"Lou let me shoot her bow." Calypso shrugged a shoulder. Lucy-Jo hummed, rubbing her jaw in thought. "What?"

"Come with me a sec." She sheathed her sword, holster on her back, and motioned with her head. Calypso followed dutifully, quite content to leave her blade where it was. Lucy-Jo led her to a side room, near the main door. It was roughly a third of the size of the training hall. Each wall was lined with guns. There were stands in the middle with more traditional weapons, swords, spears, maces, and more. "This is Lou's favourite room. She hates the guns, but everything else- it's like her playground. Feel free to have a look. I know how to use everything in here and can teach you, if you want."

They tried a crossbow. They were never going to get that bolt back from the ceiling. Calypso was set to give up, but Lucy-Jo would not allow it just yet. She did not relent until Calypso could hit the target more than she couldn't. "Don't put yourself down just because you're not perfect the first try." Lucy-Jo squeezed her shoulder. "Humans, by nature, love to learn. You don't have to impress anyone, there's nothing to prove."

"It's not a case of proving anything." Calypso said miserably. "I've been… useless. We walked right into a trap and we nearly died, all of us." Lucy-Jo set a questioning look on her. Calypso sighed and recounted their trip through the Roman sewers, their meeting with Copia, the ambush of hydras. "If not for Festus and Dantia, we would have never got out. So, I want to learn, I want to be useful. So that it never happens again." Lucy-Jo bit her lip, scrutinising her. Calypso bunched her jaw, sure the girl was about to snark her, offer her false reassurances in the hope to alleviate the blame.

Then she nodded.

"Good." She said. "You'd make a damn good Keeper."

"I still don't know what you do."

"We fight Bloods."

"Mm-mm." Calypso shook her head. "You do more than that."

"We do." Lucy-Jo agreed. "But you'll only learn that if you sign up."

"No, thank you."

"Mm, don't blame you. Ten more shots on the crossbow. Hit the centre."

"And if I don't?"

"Another ten shots. Bloody hell, woman, you used to be an immortal sorceress. I know you said your powers are gone, but don't tell me the mindset has?"

"How can I be as good as I was when I'm very clearly not?"

"Talent comes in many shapes and forms. You may not have magic anymore, but that doesn't mean you're useless for now and evermore. Pull your socks up, shoot ten more, hit that centre. Pretend it's Boss, if that helps." She smirked wryly. "Helps me. Now shoot that git." Calypso laughed.

"Yes ma'am!"


She was ten. Storm was with her, maybe another year or so until she was fully grown, but big enough to give Louisa a ride. They dove through the clouds, delighted, she whooped and cheered, Storm loop-de-looped. It was a wonderful feeling, one she yearned to get back to, but she was happy to settle with the memory for now. The clouds were colder than she thought, wispy and damp. She laughed each time Storm plunged into one, shivering and clapping.

"Again!"

Of course!

Then she was eleven. Storm was showing off her wings, trotting in a circle around her, baby fuzz finally moulted away. Louisa nodded and praised her, tapping her foot. "Will ya come here? I need ta brush ya down!"

Look at my wings! I'm gorgeous!

"Yes, you're amazin', now come on! Mom's comin' 'n' I want you ta look ya best!"

I already am my best, look at my wings!

"Ugh, you're so annoyin'."

Looked in a mirror lately?

"No, ya cracked it!"

Did not, I'm beautiful! LOOK AT MY WINGS!

"I'm lookin', I'm lookin'!"

She was fourteen, seeing the legion's parade for the first time. She sat on Storm's back. Reyna was in front of her, just to the right, also on a pegasus. The stallion was a golden, peanut butter colour, and much better behaved than Storm was. "See, why can't you walk about like normal?"

What's normal?

"Not you, that's for sure. Skippy's good as gold."

Then why don't you get yourself a Skippy?

"I don't want one."

'Cos I'm amazing and I'm your favourite and you'll never ever replace me, will you, Lou?

"No, course not."

That sounded sarcastic.

"Sit still 'n' I'll consider it."

OK. And Storm sat, plonking herself down like a dog. Louisa yelped and fell off backwards, managing to roll and sit up. She spat hair from her mouth, frowning. Storm turned her head, eyes smiling, and snorting at her. Ha, like that?

"Asshole."

You told me to sit.

"'N' when do horses sit like that?" Louisa gestured, rolling her eyes. Storm huffed, peeved and shook her head.

I am not a horse! How dare you?

"I dare!"

"Um, Lou?" Jason looked down at her. "You OK?"

"Storm's just bein' a dick."

You're a dick!

"Oh, fight me."