Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine
Holy water cannot help you now
See, I've come to burn your kingdom down
And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out
I'm gonna raise the stakes
I'm gonna smoke you out
May 5th, 1979
Ivy knocked on the double doors at the top of the Headmaster's Tower, doing her best to mitigate the nervous, jumpy energy threatening to overwhelm her. Since Monday when she received Dumbledore's correspondence that she could come read That Which is Natural and That Which is Not, she'd been able to focus on little else.
This was hardly ideal considering how rapidly the N.E.W.T.s were approaching. Still, her every thought dwelled on what she might learn from the book. At least, when she wasn't fighting off the obsessive dread that she might find no answers at all.
Her stomach lurched when the Headmaster opened the doors.
"Good evening," the twinkly-robed wizard inclined his head.
"Evening," Ivy said mildly.
"You needn't worry," Dumbledore smiled graciously and motioned for her to enter. "I've learned my lesson and will therefore spare you of pleasantries."
Before she could form a response, the phoenix beside his desk spontaneously burst into flames atop its perch. It burned brightly, blindingly, for mere seconds before collapsing into a puff of ashes. The cinders began to chirp cheerfully as though the bird didn't recall burning to death a moment prior.
"Bloody bird," she muttered quietly, following the Headmaster and seating herself across the desk from him.
That Which is Natural and That Which is Not sat on the edge of the desk nearest to her. Peering at it curiously, she noticed that it was no bigger than her hand in either length or thickness. It couldn't be more than a hundred pages long; she was almost certain that she could read through it in one sitting. The hand-bound leather cover looked like it had once been a vibrant shade of purple, but years of wear had turned it a murky lilac-grey.
"When was this written?" Ivy took the book carefully, turning it over in her hands.
"In the sixteenth century," Dumbledore looked up from the roll of parchment in front of him to watch her over his half-moon spectacles.
"Wicked," she opened it to the first page and found the name of the author. "Who's Eleanor Fletcher?"
"You'll not find her in many history books," the Headmaster said. "She was not very well known, even after her time. However, she was a singularly gifted Divinator."
"Did you know her?" Ivy looked for a table of contents but did not find one.
"Dear me," he chuckled, dipping his quill into an ink bottle. "Eleanor Fletcher had been dead at least three hundred years before I was born."
She thought to give a half-arsed apology, but he'd already gone back to scribbling on his parchment. As the room fell into silence aside from his humming and the scratching of his quill, she delved into the book eagerly.
Ivy's hopes had all but fizzled out.
It was a pity, really, since she'd been so optimistic upon seeing That Which is Natural and That Which is Not on Dumbledore's shelf back in February. Even so, she was two-thirds of the way through the book and it hadn't mentioned Death Magic once.
She'd stopped clinging to every word a half hour ago and her mood subsequently dropped to the lowest depths of hell. When she reached the end of a page, her stomach churned with anticipation that perhaps the next would have the information she sought. Each time it didn't, she grew more foul-mouthed.
If the Headmaster noticed her cursing under her breath, he didn't mention it. In fact, he paid her very little mind, instead seemingly immersed in scrawling on various pieces of parchment, occasionally switching his humming to a different tune.
Ivy's eyes grew heavy as she turned page after faded page, only encountering frustratingly useless information such as the culture surrounding Divination and how it was oftentimes thought to fall under the realm of the Dark Arts.
Two paragraphs away from throwing a temper tantrum, she flipped another page.
Her eyes locked onto the words Death Magic, which were the first at the top of the page, and she audibly gasped. Lurching forward in her seat, she clutched the book in a vice grip and ravenously devoured the words before her.
Death Magic is not a Dark Art. It does, nevertheless, have the reputation of being so, as the wicked frequently perverted it before the practice became scarce. Death Magic is, in actuality, very common, as magical folk naturally generate imprints of death, which can be related to both mental incapacitations as well as physical.
Few witches and wizards can sense these imprints, but those that can have also been known to identify other forms of Death Magic such as Anima Vases and their direct descendents, Horcruxes. These individuals have been fearfully named Omens of Death, as their abilities remain dreadfully misunderstood.
In truth, most anyone with a strong aptitude for Divination can develop such abilities and thus become an Omen of Death, if given the proper understanding and instruction. And yet, it must be acknowledged that historically, magical folk who bond with death at a young age are able to expand upon their potential with more ease than others. This deeper understanding for the practise of Death Magic is due to first hand familiarity with the subject, and in many instances, subsequently increased wisdom.
Unfortunately, as few accept the existence of Omens of Death, their unrefined skills are nearly always dismissed as madness. Due to this, locating witches and wizards who garner these talents proves arduous, and teaching them to harness their proclivities has become unfeasible.
Nimue Sutton was the last known Omen of Death to refine her skills and even go so far as to talk publicly about her abilities. Before she was placed in the care of Bedlam asylum, her apparent madness led to an interview in which she described her prowess as akin to accidental outbursts of magic caused by untrained persons. The most controversial of her statements was as follows: "I have deciphered that there are innumerable imprints of death -nay, murder- all around us. Invisible to the untrained eye, dark grey energy drifts off of those who have been tainted by such atrocities. Intruigingly, I have found that light grey energy forms around Anima Vases, while black energy floats around places where murder was committed, and, more importantly, around Horcruxes."
Sutton's interview is widely known as the grounds for her hospitalisation, as even magical folk thought her lost to insanity. Nonetheless, the miniscule community of witches and wizards who still know of Death Magic, trust her word.
Ivy continued reading in search of definitions for Anima Vases and Horcruxes, but after making it through several paragraphs and skimming the next two pages, she found no further elaboration.
Lost in the piece of truth at her fingertips, it took her several minutes to realise that the Headmaster was watching her intently. Indeed, he had abandoned his scribblings and cleared his desk entirely to reveal the polished wooden surface, atop which the tips of fingers were pressed together.
"What are they?" Ivy asked helplessly, the words she'd read still swimming in front of her eyes. "Horcruxes? Anima Vases?"
"You will find your answer," Dumbledore said calmly. "On page ninety-seven."
Flipping ahead as quickly as her fingers would allow, she let herself become absorbed in the text once more.
Murder splits the soul as naturally as murder itself is unnatural. When this heinous crime is witnessed, and sometimes when it is committed, part of the soul breaks away from the whole and latches onto a nearby object, often one of sentimental value. The object therefore becomes an Anima Vas. When translated from its Latin origins, this phrase takes on the identity of Soul Vessel. This sacred magic has no known origin.
Anima Vases enable the witch or wizard whose soul has been ripped to come back from the brink of death, whereupon the piece of soul vanishes from its vessel. It is unknown what happens to the fragment when it disappears, but it is prudent to emphasise that having Anima Vases does not equate to immortality. While these receptacles can heal even the most egregious of wounds, their function is not to divert death permanently, but to delay it for the time being. Anima Vases do not defend against natural deaths, such as ones fated by old age, nor do they prevent instant deaths, such as ones induced by the Killing Curse.
As such, magical folk have theorised the reason for ghosts; those who die with unutilized Anima Vases are given the opportunity to return from death as a spirit. Some think that these vessels are also the explanation for why witches and wizards live longer than non-magical people. Furthermore, Anima Vases are accepted as nature's compensation for the grief that comes with corruption; a gift for those who have suffered beyond the parameters set forth by nature.
Herpo the Foul of Ancient Greece created a corruption of this most pure magic. He developed a Horcrux, wherein by guiltlessly committing the despicable act of murder, he was able to encapsulate a piece of his soul in an object. In stark contrast to the function of their predecessors, Horcruxes were invented to divert death permanently, as they keep their maker earthbound, even if their body suffers irreparable damage. In rare but nonetheless crucial instances, Horcrux creators have used the Dark Arts to procure new bodies for themselves after their originals perished.
Eclectic historians believe this is why knowledge of Death Magic has been lost to time; to protect nature from enduring further violation. It is clear that a plethora of knowledge has been purposefully suppressed, as the information gathered here is all that could be found after decades of research.
Ivy stared at a short list of spells that had been included beneath the last paragraph. Some were simple incantations, while others were more complex. None elaborated on what exactly the effects were. Even so, she spent some time committing them to memory with the hope that they'd be useful one day.
Shutting the book in her lap, she dwelled on the consequences of what she'd read.
It was safe to assume that the vision she saw upon finding the diadem was the murder that made it into a Horcrux. While this was concerning, she was far more worried about the individual who wanted to create seven Horcruxes.
She looked up with a sense of impending dread. "Horcruxes aren't very common, are they?"
"I daresay if either of us were to find one," Dumbledore said gravely. "We would know who to attribute it to."
Wanting to hurl, she ran a hand over her face. "When you called me an Omen of Death back in fifth year, you knew that I could sense Death Magic?"
"I had a, let's say, inkling."
"Let me guess, you gained this inkling when you used Legilimency on me."
Dumbledore considered her, his expression giving nothing away.
"Nevermind, I already know the answer." Ivy waved a hand tiredly. "So what is it that you -the Order- wants from me, exactly? My Omen of Death insights? I can't imagine you'd take much interest in a Death Eater otherwise."
"I take an interest," the Headmaster told her gently, perhaps a tad patronisingly. "In each and every one of my students, Ms. Selwyn. But you are quite right, your insights would be helpful in locating Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes."
Twitching at the use of You-Know-Who's name, she tried to ignore the wrinkle of unease it sent through her. "You really think the Dark Lord has made not just one, but several?"
"Do you think it's beyond his capabilities?" He looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. "In my not-so-humble opinion, the past thirty-four years since he attended Hogwarts have granted him more than enough time to create all seven desired Horcruxes."
If there were multiple, and they were hidden in peculiar places like the tiara had been, she couldn't imagine where the others could be. However, as much as Dumbledore was trying to make himself seem needed, she'd already located one on her own. Now that she'd gotten what she desired from That Which is Natural and That Which is Not, it seemed she was kilometres ahead of the Headmaster.
"What would we even do if we found them?" Ivy asked carefully. "Rebind the broken pieces of soul until they're part of the whole again?"
"We would destroy them."
"And then destroy the Dark Lord himself?"
"Indeed."
"But how do you destroy Horcruxes - souls?"
"Unless a Horcrux has already been unearthed," Dumbledore said evenly. "I believe locating them should be our main focus for the time being."
"Our main focus," Ivy echoed. "I've not yet said I want to join your Order. Nor has Regulus and Theya."
"Nevertheless," the Headmaster smiled grimly. "Our goals remain the same. As you are yet undecided, I will expect your answer the day after your graduation ceremony. I have already arranged rooms for the three of you at the Hog's Head Inn, so the next morning you may come back to the castle to voice your decision."
"Isn't the Hog's Head filled with bedbugs?" Ivy asked sceptically. "And wouldn't that be dangerous for the three of us, meeting up with the leader of the Order immediately after graduation?"
His blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "I will personally have a word with the innkeeper to make certain your rooms are held to the utmost standard of cleanliness. And I can assure you that every precaution necessary will be taken to ensure your safety for our meeting."
There wasn't much else to do except blindly trust him. It was irksome, as it occurred to her that she was doing an awful lot of that these days. The increasing lack of control over her future didn't sit well with her. Not one bit.
"Fine," she said sourly, looking down at the faded lilac cover. "Mind if I finish this before I leave?"
"Of course," he inclined his head.
Opening the volume once more, she forced her droopy eyes to remain open, and continued.
Stepping out of the Viaduct Courtyard's side entrance and onto the grounds, Regulus and Theya followed Ivy under the chilly blanket of midnight. The stars and moon were bright, illuminating the way as they hurried over the few metres of grass between the castle and the cliff. Stepping onto the stone staircase that led down the cliff to the Boathouse, he shared another uneasy look with Theya.
The two of them had stayed awake past curfew in hopes of gleaning what Ivy had learned from her session with the Headmaster. Her jittery demand that they leave the castle to talk was all he needed to decipher that what she'd come across was dire. He couldn't imagine what had spooked her enough to take this kind of unplanned risk, as she'd led them in a sprint through the castle, not bothering to look around a single corner before she rounded it.
Nearing the Boathouse, Regulus watched the school bag over Ivy's shoulder bounce in the dark. She was still gripping the bag tightly, confirming his suspicion that she'd taken something of great importance with them.
All three struggling to breathe as they reached the empty harbour, they hurried inside, shutting the door behind themselves.
The place smelled woody and a smidge fishy, as they were standing in what appeared to be a half-room. Built directly over the waters of the Black Lake, the lightless shack had high ceilings and walls on every side, except the one that faced the lake. The moon's reflection glistened on the water and, as it was a clear night, he could see shadowy peaks in the distance. Boats hung from the rafters, swaying gently in the cool wind, while pairs of oars stood stationary on all three walls.
Ivy was pacing by the water's edge, evidently in a panic.
He and Theya exchanged another concerned look.
"Iv," Theya said slowly. "You're frightening me."
"Seconded," his voice carried over the calm waters and he winced, drawing his wand. "Muffliato! Do you wanna tell us what you found out?"
Ivy thrust a hand into her bag. Pulling out an item he couldn't identify due to the lack of light, she tossed it to him. "This is a Horcrux. It belongs to the Dark Lord."
Catching the item with ease, he eyed the very old, rather tarnished diadem. It meant something that Ivy had a vision of someone's death when she found it in the hidden room on the seventh floor -he'd come to find out about the vision long after it happened, which still made him twinge in indignation- but to his eye, the tiara didn't look like much.
Theya peered at it. "But what-"
"It's something that will allow You-Know-Who to live forever," Ivy said quickly, having resumed her pacing. "Something that will allow him to come back to life even if he dies. By murdering someone, he was able to lacerate his soul and stick part of it in that crown."
Disturbed, Regulus reflexively threw the wretched thing in Theya's direction.
"I don't want it!" She dodged the diadem, letting it clatter to the wooden planks underfoot.
Ivy snatched it up and rushed to stuff it into her bag, like she too couldn't bear to touch it. "Not to mention, he wanted to make seven. And until we get our hands on all seven, assuming he did manage to make that many, he can return."
"Return?" Eyes having fully adjusted to the dark, Regulus took a seat on a nearby barrel. "How? Would he still be human?"
"Well," his girlfriend pursed her lips. "The book said that Horcrux creators have used the Dark Arts to procure new bodies for themselves after their originals perished. I don't know anything beyond that - the point is, he can find a way."
Regulus rubbed his forehead worriedly. "But what do we do with the Horcruxes once we have them? Rebind the soul?"
"That's what I thought, but no. We'd have to destroy them."
"You mean," Theya looked panicked. "We'd have to find and destroy them. How do you even destroy a soul?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Ivy said dazedly. "But I know it won't be easy."
"How do you know?" Theya asked.
"I'll get to that in a bit," she took a deep breath. "One thing at a time."
"Alright." Theya appeared to be chewing on her lip, from the little he could glean of her in the dark. "Well, that's our next move, then, isn't it? Figure out how to destroy them?"
Ivy was silent.
"I don't think so," Regulus said pensively. "Knowing how to destroy them means bollocks if we can't find them all, doesn't it? We'll need to figure that out at some point, but we don't even know how many he managed to make. Afterall, they could be anywhere and it seems like they could be anything."
"We," Theya stuck her hands in her hair and pulled. "Have to locate up to seven random items that could be hidden anywhere in the world, and then figure out a way to kill the Dark Lord… multiple times?"
"He's a ruddy cockroach," Regulus muttered scornfully.
"There's no way!" She continued with an air of feverish despondence. "We could hunt our entire lives without finding another Horcrux! Not to mention, we haven't even figured out how to kill him once!"
"It's absolutely mental," Ivy covered her face with her hands in distress. "We're fucked. We are completely and utterly fucked!"
"Yeah," Regulus agreed reluctantly. "It doesn't look good. But considering how much effort it took to find out about his Horcruxes, we're likely the only ones who know they exist. Which means our only option is to figure it out."
"You're right, but…" Theya released a loud groan and stomped her feet frustratedly.
Ivy peeked at her boyfriend from behind her fingers. "You're awfully calm about this. Why aren't you having a psychotic break?"
He shrugged. "None of us thought Horcruxes would be something good, did we? We've seen firsthand the kind of sick shite he's into. I wouldn't be surprised if you told me he secretly wanks off when he kills, so I can't say I'm shocked that he did this."
"I, for one," Theya interjected tentatively. "Think we should reconsider joining the Order."
"If anything," Ivy dropped her hands back to her sides. "It makes me more adamant not to."
"Why? We need all the help we can get."
"For one thing," Regulus thought aloud. "We'd be giving sensitive information about Horcruxes to people who don't know Occlumency. If the Dark Lord invades a single one of their minds, our most important advantage would be gone. In fact, all our advantages could be lost."
"Not to mention," Ivy said. "I'm an Omen of Death; a human Horcrux detector. I found the tiara without even trying, so we're already twenty steps ahead of-"
"Hold on," Theya cut her off. "You're a what?"
"An Omen of Death," she hurried on flippantly. "Apparently, that's the term for people who can sense Death Magic. I became one because of my aptitude for Divination and because I bonded with death at a young age."
"That explains why Thestrals flock to you," Regulus ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "And why your Patronus is a Thestral."
"I expect," she said irritably. "That's also why Dumbledore's bloody phoenix always bursts into flames the second I step into his office."
"And why you see ashes everywhere," Theya said definitively.
"Yeah," Ivy took a seat in the dark on a barrel near Regulus. "Only, the ashes are related to murder specifically, not just death. If I understand correctly, murder is the most potent kind of death and that's why it's visible. Which brings me to Anima Vases."
He listened intently as she detailed the term.
"Ohhh," Theya said when Ivy was through. "So the piece of soul in your cloak's pin saved your life when you were chasing James and Sirius?"
"Yes," Ivy confirmed.
"How?" Regulus furrowed his brow. "Snapping your spine sounds like an instant death if I've ever heard of one, but you said Anima Vases don't protect against that."
"Well, Frederick said I was breathing the entire time, which means that if I died, it would've been gradual, not instant. I think instant deaths can't be repelled because they're inevitable; they happen too quickly for magic to intervene. Even magic needs time."
"Anima Vases don't help the dead," Theya said slowly. "They help the nearly dead."
"Hm," Regulus murmured, some pieces of the puzzle locking into place. "And Hazel's ribbons are how you know destroying Horcruxes won't be easy, because they should've been incinerated by your potion in sixth year. Logically, since Horcruxes are descended from Anima Vases, the level of indestructibility should be similar, if not the same. Right?"
"Right," Ivy gave a nod.
"That reminds me," Theya shook her head. "How many soul vessels do you have?"
"Three. My ribbons for Hazel, my Greengrass ring for the Muggle, and my bracelet for Frederick."
"None for Avdima?"
"As far as I understand," Ivy said slowly. "Murder combined with grief is what creates an Anima Vas. When you're the one committing the murder, you need to be tormented by what you willingly took away from someone else."
"And you've never felt guilty over Avdima," Theya finished for her.
"Exactly."
"How do Could and Would tie into all this?" Regulus piped up. "Did the book say anything about guides?"
"No," Ivy said thoughtfully. "But I don't think they fall under the realm of Death Magic anyway."
"Why's that?" He raised a brow.
"Could told me that everyone has guides, in one form or another. I think she's guiding me using the mirror death dreams because I'm bonded to Death Magic, not because she is."
"What a spiderweb," Theya blew out a long breath.
"And a convoluted headache," Regulus rubbed his temples.
"Tell me about it," Ivy sighed.
There were several beats of silence between them, during which he sorted his thoughts. The entire thing was a mindfuck, one that he was certain he was barely grasping. Like finding out about Ivy's plan to destroy pureblood society, this was going to take some time to sink in.
"Did the book elaborate on your abilities?" Theya inquired after a moment. "Surely, you should be able to use Death Magic, not just sense it."
"That's what I want to know too," Regulus shifted atop his barrel in the dark. "There has to be more to the practise than just knowing when its in use - there has to be more to it than just murder, too."
"There is more to it than murder," Ivy said. "I can sense haunted imprints, of intangible mental and physical deaths. I'm certain there's more beyond that, but I also have a feeling that whatever else there is to learn, I'll have to figure it out on my own."
"Seems that way," Theya remarked tiredly.
Regulus murmured his assent.
"As far as how to actually use Death Magic," Ivy yawned. "I found a list of spells in That Which Is Natural and That Which Is Not. I don't know what they do, but I memorised them just in case."
"Well," Theya rubbed her eyes. "What do we do now?"
"Reconvene once we've graduated," Ivy suggested. "We can't do much at Hogwarts."
"I think that's a good place to start," Regulus got off his barrel and helped Ivy down from hers, before stretching his arms overhead. "We can get our heads together, finish the N.E.W.T.s… regroup once we're past graduation and all that."
"Good plan," Theya twisted at the waist, cracking her back.
"For now," Regulus took Ivy's hand, a wave of protectiveness crashing over him as he thought about what their future might entail. "Let's go to bed, eh? Before Filch tries to hang us by our toes again."
Staring into a mirror, she could see nothing with the exception of a thick fog that stretched in all directions. It occurred to her that she was only able to see such a thing out of the corner of her eyes, as her gaze remained fixed only on the mirror. Even so, she couldn't be certain that she did actually have eyes, as looking out of the corner of them seemed more a notion than an action.
Her reflection stared unblinkingly back, white robes as pristine as her loose, curled hair. When Ivy sensed that she had once known, currently did, or would know the reflection, she was able to distinguish with finality that the person in the mirror was indeed not her.
"There are five to seek," Could said gently.
While Ivy knew that she understood what the words meant, she could not comprehend them. She suspected that a different part of her, one bound by time, would grasp the words.
"You are correct," Could told her softly. "You will know. When you do, know this too: you command death."
May 6th, 1979
Entering the loo shared by her and her four dormmates, Ivy shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake them. She delicately placed her adornments onto the counter beside the sink, where various magical beauty products were haphazardly cluttered.
Taking a deep breath, she readied herself, as her fear of mirrors was still tauntingly present. This was as much due to the discoloured scars around her right wrist, as it was due to the thought of who she might see. She feared Would, but she also feared becoming Would.
Regardless, she'd spent long enough avoiding herself, so she forced her eyes upward.
In her negligee, she was still minorly scarred and thin as ever. Now, though, she was no longer comprised only of awkward angles, as she'd become more svelte than bony. Her arse had filled out nicely. Her chest had not. While it made her feel a tad disproportionate, she appreciated her adult body far more than she had her scrawny childhood form.
Focusing in on her face, she smiled at her striking silver eyes, having always considered them her best feature. She noticed that her smile had changed from mirthless to genuine, making her wonder when that had happened. Her cheeks had lost all their baby fat, making her look borderline gaunt.
Eyes locking on her hair, she reached for a brush and worked her way through the elbow-length strands until they were silken and cooperative.
Drawing Hazel's black ribbons from the clutter of adornments, she fingered them melancholically. She envied people who got to keep dozens of pictures, hundreds of letters, and thousands of memories of their deceased loved ones. All she had was ribbons. Misty-eyed, Ivy began tying half her hair into a bun, doing so with great care as though the ribbons were ancient relics. She supposed they were, as they reminded her of a time when everything was simple, when she didn't ache for someone who would never again exist.
Upon taking the Thestral hairpin into hand, however, her desolation dulled. The silver, obsidian, and sapphires soothed her in a way that only darkness could, as though she'd just laid in bed after a long day and the rainy black night was lulling her into a dreamless sleep. Reverently, she tucked the pin above her bun, gently prodding it with slender fingers until satisfied with its placement.
Gaze drawn to the circular indent surrounding the base of her right pinky finger, she slid the silver and opal ring back into its rightful place. Her finger felt whole again, as though the metal and precious stone was a literal part of her she'd been missing. Tilting her hand, she smiled in adoration as yellow and pink shifted in the stone.
Moving onto the obsidian bracelet, she fastened it around her right wrist, the rough, cold stones making her shiver. The chill was welcome, as its starkness shocked her awake. When her body began warming the stones, she rolled them against her skin, letting the coolness refresh her.
Taking the sapphire and silver necklace, she held the pendant up to eye level. Reading the engraved words: For our daughter, her eyes welled up again. This time, with tears of appreciation. Fastening the chain around her neck and letting the gem rest over her heartbeat made her feel distinctly safe, distinctly loved.
Left with one last piece of jewellery, she hesitated.
After a moment of thought, she slipped the silver, opal-studded bracelet around her left wrist. While she had chosen Regulus and always would, she was of the opinion that the band should remain with her as a reminder. What she wanted it to remind her of, she wasn't yet sure.
Staring at her half-up and half-down hairstyle, Could's words rang through her mind again. You command death. While Ivy had understood what there are five to seek meant -she needed to find five Horcruxes- she had yet to grasp her other words. Regardless, she had an inkling that they were in reference to her abilities, but only time could confirm that.
When she met her own gaze in the mirror again, she decided that her appearance was as it should be.