Chapter 12

Lucy had taken a walk to clear her mind. She aimlessly strolled through her neighborhood, twisting the ruby ring around her thumb as she walked. Before she knew it, she had ended up at the lookout near the local observatory. There was no one else enjoying the view and Lucy was thankful for the solitude.

As she leaned against the railing, Lucy twisted the ring again, watching the city lights make the beautiful jewel sparkle. 'Big picture, big picture,' she chanted to herself, looking up at the night sky. What was more important-the lives of millions of spirits...or her own happiness?

"If there's one thing I know about myself," she finally mused aloud, "It's that I'm not selfish."

And with that, Lucy exhaled as slowly as she could. Suddenly, she smirked, and shook her head. Wasn't it ironic? Just at the moment when she was finally starting to understand what she had-she had to give it up.

She closed her eyes and summoned.

This time, when she felt Loki's presence stepping from the Astral Plane, she felt her heart ache.

And when he finally became visible-torn clothing and bleeding-her heart nearly broke.

Lucy rushed to Loki's side and helped him to the nearest bench. He had long, jagged cuts all over his body and he was breathing as if he had just run a marathon-but the smile on his face was bigger than Lucy had ever seen it.

"What the hell happened to you?" She shrieked, her fingers already searching for a key that had the power to heal. "Are you, are you-"

Loki raised one bruised hand, trying to calm his Master. "Relax, I made it," he wheezed as best as he could.

"Made it? What are you talking about?" Lucy exclaimed, examining his wounds. Why the heck was he smiling so big? It looked as if Loki had been on the wrong end of a knife fight.

"I made it out!" He spread his arms out wide, which Lucy could tell he instantly regretted. He doubled over in pain, but after a few deep breaths, he started to roll up his pant leg. "I almost didn't make it, but thanks to your impeccable timing, I got away. With this."

There was something thin tucked into one of Loki's torn wool socks. Something thin and very old. Lucy handled it gingerly as he handed it to her, picking it up with the tips of her fingers. It was a roll of parchment and Lucy was amazed that it survived Loki's dangerous escape. It seemed like the paper would crumble into dust at any moment.

"Loki," said Lucy, who was rather apprehensive at what she was holding, "Just what...is this?"

The big smile got even bigger. Loki took her hand-the one wearing the ring-and kissed it. "That, my dear Lucy, is a contract."

"A contract," said Lucy, doubtfully, as she unrolled the sheet. It was about the small poster and it was covered in golden text with characters Lucy didn't even recognize. At the bottom, there were two blank lines. Perhaps awaiting signatures?

"Yes. A very rare and ancient one at that," said Loki, from the bathtub he was soaking in, "And I think you're looking at one of the only ones left in existence. I bet someone from the House of Libra would pay BIG for it." He and Lucy had had a difficult time phasing back to the Spirit World in his injured state, but it was the only place where he could quickly recooperate. The healing would go even faster if he soaked in an ambrosia solution, which is why Lucy had dumped him-clothing and all-into his bathtub and why he was now floating in a sea of...pale pink bubbles. (She had rolled her eyes upon discovering that this powerful magical healing potion was in the form of a bubble bath.)

Stretching her legs out on the cold tile floor, Lucy slowly rolled up the paper as delicately as she could. "So let me get this straight," she said, placing it out of harms way, "You risked your life...so you could improve your book collection?"

"Oh, my dear Lucy," Loki playfully sighed, flinging a waterlogged shoe out of the water, "Let's start with the basics. What do...stellar spirits mages do?"

Lucy scoffed. Was he kidding? Being a top-notch Stellar Spirit mage was her profession. "We..are mages who specialize in celestial spirit magic. We make contracts with spirits from the Astral Plane so that we can summon them in our times of need."

The other shoe flew out of the water, bouncing one on the floor. "Alright good. Now. Can you tell me about the first Stellar Spirit mages?"

Lucy frowned, trying to remember her first summoning lessons but all she drew was a big empty blank. "...No, I can't," she said, shaking her head.

Chuckling, Loki painfully peeled off his socks, tossing them into the same pile as his shoes. "Here's a story for you. Once upon a time, stellar spirits roamed freely around Earth. But we were just that-spirits. We still technically within the Astral Plane so were ethereal. However, there were those who could see us. Powerful humans with innate abilities."

"..The first mages," said Lucy, in awe. She had never heard this story before, and she was rather ashamed to say that she often took her ability to perform her style of magic for granted.

"Yes." A coiled belt joined the pile. "The strongest of us learned how to communicate with the strongest of them, and we made a deal. In exchange for our power, they would grant us with what we didn't have-a physical, tangible form. A contract was written in the caster's blood and we were able to step out of the Spirit World for the first time-with flesh and blood."

"So how did the spirits gain...forms?" Lucy asked, "Just the details of the contract?"

Loki balled up the remnants of his jacket and tossed it out. "Yes. The contract enabled the mage to use his part of his soul and body as a vessel to pull the spirit through into this plane. The mage and the spirit were bonded for life. As spirits, we were much more powerful then. More powerful than our non-bonded state also-the lifeforce of our mage boosted our powers ridiculously. The process is been refined a lot since then-the keys eliminate the need for soul trading, but the contract is still required. There are a lot more rules now also. We stay in our plane and normally, you stay on yours."

"And that paper over there," Lucy said, gesturing at the rolled up scroll, "That's...one of the..."

"Yep. One of the original binding contracts. It's literally priceless. I fought through an entire stronghold of Tigris guards for that scroll-and I almost didn't make it out alive."

"And...what do you plan to do with it?" asked Lucy, softly. Her heart knew where this was going but only one thing flashed through her mind at the moment-the word, 'Remember.'

The formerly white dress shirt, full of slashes and stained a deep gold in some places, was wadded up and flung onto the growing pile. "Sign it, of course."

Priscilla had always resented the choice to wear white armor on that fateful day. White was so pure and innocent. And clean. She felt anything but. She wished her armor had been a deep ebony splashed crimson with the blood of her enemies. Yes, that would have been much more fitting.

But what's done is done and that was how Priscilla the White found herself impatiently waiting on the roof of the upper most tower of hour family's mansion. Clad in a sleek sleeveless white dress, white boots, and fur-trimmed cuffs around her biceps. White. She spat, very unladylike, off of the tower's edge.

Tapping her boot, she took a deep breath. If she had to wait ONE second longer, she thought to herself, she'd rip out his fangs and-

"I'm sorry I'm late, milady," a slippery voice hissed behind her," There was a little hiccup with security. I took care of it though."

Priscilla composed herself. "I do NOT tolerate lateness, Angius. And I was under the impression that members of the House of Hydra were NEVER late for appointments."

"It won't happen again."

"Good." Priscilla nodded once, and turned, her back to her guest. "The mage. She needs to be dealt with. I gave her a visa so she'll most likely be in our plane for longer periods of time."

"Do you prefer a certain method?" Anguis' voice was emotionless.

"No. Just get it done. Neatly." Priscilla's voice was as stern as her posture-severe, rigid, and unforgiving.

"Yes ma'am."

By the time Priscilla turned around again, she was alone. She allowed herself one twisted smile.

I bet my obituary was written. It's been nearly a year. RIDICULOUS. And shameful. If you've stuck with this story THIS long, I am forever thankful for it and I promise I won't let you down. Thank you, you don't know how much it means to me.

PS - If I were to...bump the rating up to an M, would that be cool? If not, lmk and I'll keep it as a T.