"If something can be said of the ambition of the magical, it is that they aim to compensate for their short lives with everlasting legacies. And thus, as much as I assume the duty of putting food on their plates and a roof above their heads, so too must I do everything in my power to preserve their knowledge, wisdom, and culture." - Prof. Kenneth Mays

It was the kind of suburb that had spent the last couple of decades being bought up by real estate moguls and opened to lower income families until the graffiti embellishing the hues of its quiet lanes and back alleys grew to drown out the directionless hand of its predecessors' teenage dudebro angst with alarming wit and artistic integrity, proclaiming such tags as,

"At least one moment of passage, one it will hurt to lose, ought to be found for every street now indifferently gray with commerce, with war, with repression"

and

"34°03'58.8"S 151°00'54.2"E 1997/09/20 NEVER FORGET"

and

"hey does anyone else think theres an unsettling freudian bicuriosity to the way we shake and spray these cans as an act of rebellion against societal expectations"

Sat on its fringes was a small colonial-era house with a tin roof that had seen... not better days, but certainly days nonetheless. There was a sign out the front proclaiming the name of the building, but Thalia hadn't quite figured out how to read yet.

"Is this the place?" she asked Danika, feeling their motorcycle come to rest.

"Apparently, yes."

Danika sounded less tired than usual. Thalia noticed Danika only ever sounded tired when talking to her. It could be because she killed her sister, but she didn't have the heart to ask. If it was, then there wasn't anything either of them could do about that anyway. All Thalia felt was within her power was her own relief at the possibility that something was improving.

Disembarking the bike, Thalia at least had the wherewithal to test the waters. "This is nice, isn't it? Just the two of us out late at night."

Following suit, Danika replied, "I actually invited a third wheel along to watch the-"

She glanced downward at Florian.

"I mean fourth wheel. I can't dogg my own stepson like that. What was I saying?"

"Watching something?" Thalia tried. In the past few weeks, Danika had begun to attune herself better to her frequency. Her thoughtforms were not of the highest quality, but clear enough now to be completely legible.

"Right! I figure we needed someone to watch the entrance, and my bike. Because if someone comes by and asks us what we're doing, uh... well, I'm terrible at lying, and you don't speak English."

"Right."

"So I asked around the community and tried to figure out if there was a pattern to who's been arrested and who hasn't. And the odd thing is, the people who do get arrested more often tend to be nicer, more relaxed, less uptight, and wiser."

"So you needed someone crass, high-strung, self-righteous, and with no life experience whatsoever?"

"Hi!" called Marie Crawford, paralleled only by a superconductor in how artificial the coolness she channeled was. "How's it going, my Cambrian Exbrosion? My Brosephine Baker? Uh... Murder, she bro...te?"

"Heya." Danika kept her voice low and her gesture to a curt nod, because for goodness's sake Marie, she was just about to commit a crime.

"P.G. Brodehouse. Is that anything? Are any of these any good?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, sorry. Some of these sound like people. Are they? Is it good that I'm being compared to them?"

"I- I mean I guess, but- hey, is that...?"

"Thalia!" Thalia declared. "Nice to meet you!"

"I thought you killed people."

Danika and Thalia shifted their weight toward one another, a subconscious indication of the former's interpretation for the latter.

"Yes! Killed. Past tense. Long story."

"Including Phoebe."

"No. I don't know who did."

"Oh, uh... you believe her, Dani?"

Danika made a face like a pufferfish and shrugged. "I dunno. Does it matter to you? I thought this was supposed to be the last time you talked to me."

"You're right. I dunno, I just miss you guys. I mean, we can still hang out, right? You guys just can't bother me to be a magical girl anymore."

"Would you want to hang out? I mean, I don't plan on making a habit of stealing old magical stuff from human institutions."

Nor did I, but it's happening a third time in as many chapters.

"Oh, of course! Haha! Leave me out of this kinda thing. I'm just helping as an apology to Fearno."

"Fearno?" whispered Thalia.

"Yeah," Danika confirmed. "Hope. Medium height, slightly buff, black hair..."

"Um..."

"The lesbian stud who just got out of twenty years' suspended animation in my Dad's wardrobe."

"Oh! Her! Yes!"

Danika returned her attention to Marie. "So she's told you about this book before, right?"

"Yeah, she brought it up in her tour of Sydney. She called the fact that it was locked up here a 'proper tragedy'."

"Did she say 'innit'?"

"I can confirm that she did indeed say 'innit'."

"Hahaha! I'm sure she'd be glad to know you helped me out. Are you alright to watch the bike?"

"One hundred percent."

"Alright. In that case, Thalia. You ready?"

"Ready means...?"

"Okay with doing it now."

"Yes! I'm ready!"

"Florian?"

Florian responded with a mechanical jig. Danika stared out into open space.

"Kyubey? Are you gonna stay out here, or...?"

"Wait," Marie spluttered. "He's right there?"

"No, I'm just messing with you. It was funny, right?"

"I guess..."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't- just go and do your thing."

Even with that said, Danika couldn't help but feel a slight knot in her stomach. What senseless irony gave the power of disguise to a girl who couldn't bear to deceive her friends for a joke? Still, though,

Marie had insisted she'd work to do, and as much was certain. "Alright then. I won't keep you waiting too long. C'mon, guys. Back entrance."

Marie watched them go before meandering to the motorcycle and leaning against it.

"Brotary International. David Browie. Dammit."

Hope Fearnley had not slept for two weeks.

The strain had left her both more fatigued than she had been in recent memory and slightly brain damaged, both of which she had spent an entire day healing from. Her administrative duties had become harsher in the wake of rumours that the Deckard case had been deemed unsolvable, and no other major figure had the courage to take the fall for it. This wasn't pushing her to her limit, but it was beyond upsetting to deal with.

What was pushing her to her limit was the fact that at the same time, she was losing sleep over her fascination with the two sheets of paper Marie had given her when last they spoke - outré enough on their own, but what really beggared her belief was their similarity to an old fable from Iran she had grown up hearing.

Before her, as she sat upon her bed, were four objects - two were the sheets of paper, with a third upon which she was furiously taking notes. The fourth was a tome (not a book, mind; a proper, through-and-through tome) entitled,

A Brief Encyclopedia of the Wisdom of the Magical

Compiled and translated by Ruth Cahill-Madigan, with contributions by Prof. Kenneth Mays, Sylvia Carlos & Stephen Copland, Annabelle Wu, Dr. Bernadette Poisson-Lambert, Katelyn A. McIntyre, Lucile Chang, Dr. Gwyneth Davies, Dr. Toshiko Matsui, Sebastian Holzknecht, the Incubator, and the countless young women who had penned, protected, and preserved this material through the centuries.

And marked on the inner cover with,

For Sarah, and for Hope.

Auntie Ruthy wasn't Hope's actual aunt, nor was she called thus for the same reason as Zoey - rather, it was an offering of familiarity Ruthy had asked of her when she was very young, as consolation for the accident which had left Sarah unable to call her "Mum". Not, of course, that they weren't mother and daughter regardless of circumstance, but it was hard for both of them, harder than the two of them could get through alone.

This book was as if a secret kept among family, but such was not the meaning for the vigilance Hope took to keeping it under wraps: no sooner had they finished arguing on a new kind of magic a couple of months ago had Lara begun trying to get in good enough with her to borrow it, and now Hope believed she understood why. There was some kind of throughline to these tales suggestive of, perhaps, a grandiose saga descried by the greatest of augurs, who still could only fathom the cantles of the tapestry they spoke of. But what was the connection? And who was the old woman offering all this sagely advice?

At that moment, the phone rang. In the middle of the night.

"I'll get it!" Erica proclaimed, waking anyone the ringing itself wouldn't. "Erica speaking. How can I help?"

"No, sorry. She's busy. Can I ask who this is?"

"I dunno. Meditating, or going down on a cute girl she met at the bottle-o, or trying to tell herself that anyone under the age of 45 listens to Cold Chisel. Can I ask who this is?"

"I mean, yeah. She's awake. I'll get her to call you back later, if you want. But can I ask who this is, though?"

"Oh."

"Yeah?"

"Wait-"

"Y- yes! Right away. I- I'll be right back."

She bolted to Hope's room and knocked like merry hell.

"Come in. Who was that?"

"That was Lara. She uh... she's willing to take the fall for stuffing up the Deckard case."

"What's the catch?"

"No, like... she's already done it. Taken full responsibility. Something about trying to uphold relations in her wake."

"You're joking!"

"Talk to her yourself, if you don't believe me. Hell, I don't believe me."

The door into the museum was, naturally, locked.

"Do you think Florian can slip under the door and unlock it from the other side?" Danika wondered.

"Sure he can! Go on, boy!"

Florian saluted with a raptorial foreleg, folded himself up as narrow as he could, and hopped under the door.

Then nothing happened for about fifteen seconds.

"Is he... going to unlock it?" Danika tried.

"Be patient. He's made of blood and paper."

"Aren't familiars strong enough to kill a human?"

"Aren't you? Why don't you unlock it?"

Danika let slip a most exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry. But it's very hard for him. He needs time."

"No, no, I'm just thinking. It's all fine. How did you get into that place me and Marie first met you?"

"Oh. Oh! Watch this!"

Thalia pulled the baroque padparadscha from her eye socket and held it to the sky. It started to gllow in th6e mo(o)nlighght, refräct5ng th% ))\²ø5æ´³ 7 ³ 6~°¬6Ÿ®c6¹´q4Å´Ö4 ¶ 3Lµ 4l¶ù1•¶p,û³*5K´ 3¢±„5º°³4O¯œ6A°ë5 °d7§±§6¬´`5Û³ 6Õ³Í/ª¶û1¾´í/ôµR+̵?0K¶ó.h²A3K´Z3"¯j5°±Ù4 °ä46³44ø²_5 ³Þ3ų#2:³«2ð² 52µi5`µU20´è1ô´ü3Œ³÷2Ç°s2 ²k2Q´ 1—´ò2 ´w2=²C3ŸµE1¥² 1¯²m45±L2 µç4é³A3žµE4 ²:4 ¶[4ù³ 4s´Ñ3Gµ/3~µÛ6\¶b5 µX5ŽµÐ5 ¶ 2ý´œ4µ³D6e´ý5Ò´Ù3¨´d4 ¶[0߶ê1 µÞ6¬´ 4]°±7 ²V5"³«5w°p6ô· 5 ¶ 5Yµ:2 µg/ ¶B)8¹%)T³[5»·w4"«45´°Q6¢¯ 6ɬ–6³S4ͳ¸3 ´ /ß´(,¡¶W::t^ white coat, so that the sashes across her chest formed a neon-orange X shape.

"I don't think I've ever seen another transformation sequence like that."

"Thank you, I think."

"So what's the plan?"

Thalia didn't think back anything in response, she simply put her hands together as in prayer, closed her eye, took a deep breath, and tried to pull

her

hands

apart.

To Danika, it looked like an invisible force bound them. But as much a struggle as it was, she was experienced enough to throw her arms wide in less than a second. In the space between them now was a barrier, radiant in its unknowable, kaleidoscopic horror.

"Wait, so...!" Danika spluttered. "In that alley! You never got away, you just...?"

Thalia smiled a grin whose crook was more deliberate than usual. "Come on in, if you want. What's me is yours."

"That's not how the saying goes."

"What saying?"

To say the labyrinth was small was to compare a palace to a broom closet. Even just the two of them inside it made for a tight fit, and another two more would leave little to no breathing room. As it was, the air was stale and stuffy, and the walls were poorly lit.

"Sorry," Thalia whined, aloud this time. "Honestly, it did used to be bigger when I was a witch. But then again, so did I."

"Hang on, you can talk?!"

"I can...? Oh, Yes! I suppose I can, in here. You can understand me?"

"Apparently."

"It's a bit tighter than I'd like. My mama's used to be small, too, but she made sure we grew up in a labyrinth much bigger than this. Maybe fifty, a hundred times bigger. Oh, you would have really liked it, I think. Except, no, she would have lured you in to sculpt your flesh into new shapes. That much I don't think would be so enjoyable."

"So if this place is so impractically small, what are we in it for?"

"Aha! I left my soul gem outside. If you can get it down the chimney, I'll be able to reopen the barrier inside and unlock it from there!"
"Oh, that's clever. Let's give that a shot."

Thalia swung the door open. Danika caught it and raised a finger to her lips with great urgency. Thalia returned an odd look and mirrored the action.

"Oh! No, this just means be quiet."

"Ah! Of course. Well, should we start looking for this journal?"

They needn't have bothered. There came a faint tap-tap-tapping behind Thalia of Florian's small, Dadaist head against the display case in which the journal was kept.

"Is that all there is to it?" Danika chuckled. "I'm amazed it hasn't already been stolen."

It had, in fact, many times before, and by many magical girls more talented than her. But it was always returned the following night, after which the thieves always metamorphosed in grief, or else shattered themselves as a preventative measure. Never did they last long enough to tell anyone what they had done. Never did they last long enough to find the words.

Thankfully, neither Danika nor Thalia were any good at reading.

The display case wasn't even locked. Nobody had ever acted on the presumption that the lock on the back door would be insufficient to deter anyone who would steal from here and not, say, what its curator would call "a real museum, which, may I remind you, I could be working at right now if it wasn't for that man-hating weirdo on the recruitment team". Danika removed the glass box, and Thalia tucked it under her the least spindly part of her right arm.

"G'day, Lara. What's the good word?"

"I take it you've heard the news?"

"You're calling the cold case your own fault, ay? What for?"

"Isn't it obvious? You've got a city to run. I just figured it'd be easier with this off your mind."

"And what do you want from me for it?"

"Puh-lease! You're so sure I'm, like, the literal devil, that as soon as I do something because literally everyone would benefit from it and we can all move on with our lives, suddenly you lose your mind!"

"My whole life I've known girls like you. And I know you wouldn't do this unless you stood to gain something from it."

"Yeah? Then those girls clearly weren't like me, then."

"You said literally everyone gains from this. I presume that includes yourself."

"Did I really say thaaat? Hahaha. Slip of the tongue. Which is what I gave your mu- (dammit, to the one person I know who doesn't have a mum. God dammit.)"

"You're up to something. C'mon, Lara. I thought you wanted me to trust you."

Lara's tone immediately grew darker, cold enough to send a shiver to the other side of the telephone line. "Delapsus resurgam, you feel me? Sure, while I am trying to support you, I do have... other interests I need to protect. Hands I need to shake. Messages I need to get across- well, a message."

"To who?"

Lara paused. "Excuse me?"

"You said you had a message to-"

"Nope, sorry. Nothing. I think you're going under a bridge or something. I can barely hear you."

"Don't get all coy wi-"

"You still there? Fearnley? No? Oh well. You'll have to call me back later."

Marie leaned on the motorcycle, which was now about half a metre away from where Danika had parked it. She didn't know how many times Marie must have practiced this lean and fallen over it, and she didn't want to. "You guys are back faster than I expected."

Danika grinned. "We don't waste time!"

"So that's the book, huh?"

"Yes," Thalia transmitted. "Wanna take a look? As thanks for the help tonight."

"Oh, sure." Marie took the book from Thalia and thumbed through it.

And then she backtracked a few pages.

And then she stopped.

And then she read one page, over and over again, her face losing colour, her jaw losing strength, her eyes losing life.

She dropped the book and stared at the sky.

Danika took a step forward. "Marie, are you alri-"

Marie interrupted her with a long, deep wheeze, and the loudest, most pained laughter Danika had ever heard.

EXCERPT FROM A BRIEF ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE WISDOM OF THE MAGICAL

The Folly of the Mad Noblewoman by Zaynab bint Hassan (703 - 719). Submitted by the Bandar Lengeh Supernatural Council to Dr. Poisson-Lambert's archive on 18 AUG 1975. Retrieved for compilation on 07 DEC 1988.

A note from the Council:

Zaynab bint Hassan's esoteric philosophy is not merely interesting in its own right, but also because she was the twin sister of Aisha bint Hassan (703 - 739), whose work to this day shapes our understanding of the physics of magic. But while they were sisters, they could not be more different. Aisha believed that the answer to every problem lied in observation, mathematics, and reasoning, because God had built the world on indisputable, perfect logic. Zaynab, however, believed that such straightforward solutions were the product of simple minds, and consulted dark powers of ancient curses and forgotten gods for knowledge. The two clashed often. When they were fourteen, Aisha was forced to take Zaynab's eye. When they were sixteen, her life.

In the last few decades, many magical communities around the world have searched for safer ways to meet with these powers, and better rehabilitation for those affected by forbidden knowledge. It may be that in the next twenty years, such things are as harmless as the furniture, instruments, and utensils of our everyday household life. We have agreed that it is therefore time for Zaynab bint Hassan's teachings to come to light. We urge any aspiring young warlock who would make use of this information only to do so responsibly, safely, and in the care of those with no such dangerous inclination.

The artist had hoped to lose herself in the grandiosity of the valley, but was disappointed to come across another whose understanding of the word was far less sensible.

There was a noblewoman striding down the valley, shouting at everything that moved and most things that didn't.

"Such rudeness against the serenity of things greater than herself!" spat the artist. "Who does she think she is?"

The voice of an older woman rang through her heart.

"Do not think poorly of her for believing she is owed."

"I cannot hear her words from here," she confessed. "What is it, then, she believes she is owed?"

"Respect, for her efforts," answered the voice.

"From whom?"

"Everything."

"Why would she ask the Sun for respect?"

"Because she kindled it when it was but a spark, and without her care, it would have blown out long ago."

"But then, why would she ask the same of the ocean?"

"Because she took care of it when it was a mere puddle, and without her patience, it would have dried up long ago."

"Well, then, why would she ask as much of the void?"

The voice did not come again. When the artist turned around, she saw a polecat staring up at her expectantly. She approached it, cautiously, but the moment it decided she was close enough it scurried off toward her hometown. When it saw she did not follow, it waited again. She approached it a second time. Again, it fled further back whence she had come. She was in hot pursuit of it now, mind so busy with wonder at what she might find in the place she had spent her whole life, that she failed to even hear the madwoman yell at an elderly, disembodied voice.

(A/N: Hey guys! It's been a hot minute since I've said anything here.

This chapter marks the beginning of the last arc of Part 1 (which concludes with chapter 21), after which I'll post about everything that's gone into the story thus far on the blog over at puellafuriadarkmagica .tumblr .com , and I'll take my foot off the pedal long enough to have a four-chapter break (which I've been calling an 'interlude' in my head, because I don't have a better name for it that doesn't prematurely describe what's going to happen in it).

Thank you all so much for supporting this story. See you around in two more chapters!)