It had not been difficult to find an acceptable hotel near the ancient ruins of Buchanan Castle, some thirty kilometres north-west of Glasgow. The small village of Drymen, less than two kilometres from the castle, turned out to have a large hotel with a high white façade and distinctive slate roofs, offering every comfort.
Aster and Hermione had agreed on the Buchanan Arms Hotel when, on asking the receptionist a few questions, they learned that it had an indoor swimming pool. The hardest part had been getting the room, as they were both minors and had no identity papers. If Hermione hadn't made good use of a confusion spell, Aster had no doubt that she would have found herself in the very uncomfortable position of having to explain her situation to the police. Or more likely, being forced to flee in order to avoid trouble.
So they had spent the evening relaxing in the pool after a good meal before going to bed early, so as to get up before dawn and be on time for the rendezvous. Aster didn't really need any sleep, sleep being more of a pleasant habit for her, a rest for her mind, so she hadn't had any trouble closing her eyes for only a handful of hours, taking advantage of the situation to give Hermione a long hug.
When she had woken up, it was still dark, the sky visible from the large window in their room just taking on its first bluish hues of the pre-dawn hours. She sat up slowly, taking care not to uncover Hermione, her breathing deep and even, asleep.
Aster sat down, gently on the soft cotton sheets against her skin. From this position, her vampiric nyctalopia allowed her to see Hermione's pale, peaceful face through the darkness, surrounded by a halo formed by her tousled hair and rosy cheekbones. Her pale throat exposed by the V-neck of her flannel pyjamas. Hermione was so cute like that, so chewy, literally if she was to believe the little itch of her sharp canines.
Given the time it would take to get ready for the masquerade ball, they shouldn't dawdle too much if they wanted to arrive on time. And according to Aster's knowledge of the edges, if they weren't on time, it would be impossible for them to reach the actual venue.
Unable to resist the temptation and thinking that there was nothing wrong with mixing business with pleasure, Aster leaned over Hermione, one hand resting on either side of her shoulders. She brought her lips to her neck, first placing a kiss on the soft skin, the scent of the violet soap she had used the night before making her even more irresistible. She lowered herself until she was lying comfortably flat against Hermione, before sinking her small fangs into the soft, warm skin of the junction between Hermione's neck and shoulder. The rich, sublime taste of warm blood vibrating with life and magic invaded her mouth, she could feel the vital energy flowing through her, warming her own veins, the pleasure so delicious that she closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation. In that moment, it was as if she and Hermione were one, as if Hermione's heart was beating in her own chest despite the impossibility of such a thing. She drank slowly, savouring drop by drop the vital nectar, the powerful, exhilarating taste of Hermione's magic, her soul, her life, reviving her own soul withered by non-life, strengthening her physical form, renewing her strength.
It was only a few seconds before she heard Hermione moan her name, and felt one of her lover's hands rest on the back of her head, stroking her hair, her other hand passing around her waist to bring their two bodies closer together, trying in vain to make them merge. With a sigh and a whisper almost begging her not to stop, she felt Hermione's breath quicken, her heart beating faster and faster against her lips, her whole body arching up against the mattress to give herself away more.
Feeling playful, Aster began to nibble, provoking little cries from her girlfriend, her hand leaving her hair to settle on the nape of her neck, pulling her against her neck, as if to ask for more. It was only when Hermione let out a yelp louder than the others, her whole body tensing at once, the taste of salty sweat mingling with the blood in a delicious cocktail, that Aster withdrew her little fangs. Had she gone too far?
"Hermione, are you alright?" she asked, trying to concentrate so that she could see through the blur of her pleasure-fogged vision, her little tongue running over her lips so as not to lose a drop of the liquid sparkling with magic and life.
"Wonderful," Hermione said between deep breaths, her right forearm hiding her eyes, her other hand having pulled the covers over her, her cheeks peony red. "Please, Aster, pass me the blood replenishment potion, it's in my bag."
Aster nodded, and fished out the potion as best she could despite the cloud of ecstasy she was still floating on, the taste of blood still on her tongue, the echo of Hermione's heartbeat still in her veins. "Here," she said, uncorking the vial and placing it in Hermione's outstretched hands. She swallowed the contents before sighing with relief and giving her a smile. "That was the best wake-up call I've had in a long time, Aster." She said in a light tone, still lost in the clouds.
Still a little worried, Aster asked. "Are you sure you're alright? I didn't hurt you? It's the first time you've made such a cry at the end."
At these words Hermione's cheeks flushed even more, which in itself was quite impressive considering how pink they already were. She stammered for several seconds before managing to string her words together. "It was... I, you know I... it was just surprise, yes, surprise."
"Surprise?" Aster questioned, tilting her head to the side in bewilderment.
"Yes, I was surprised at how good it felt," Hermione muttered, looking away, her face close to burning. Deciding that Hermione could keep the secret well to herself, Aster blinked, putting her curiosity aside and rising from the bed, before stretching cat-like, sighing with pleasure at the feel of her joints awakening.
"We'd better get ready, we don't want to be late." She said as she took the costumes and masks out of the bag. Mr John, the best dressmaker who had decided to join the Asphodel, had done an excellent job, finishing their costumes in just a few hours. The man, well... the creature, was of a species unknown to Aster. So long as it was a species, and not the result of a curse or an experiment. Mr John was a tall, three-metre-long being with blue chitin body and ten long, over-jointed limbs, each ending in slender, dexterous hands, each with nine fingers and two thumbs with at least three long phalanges too many. He's head was a sort of ovoid with nine gleaming violet eyes and a very wide mouth lined with thousands of fine needle-like teeth. He had greeted them very politely, dressed in his broad, colourful poncho, removing the elegant top hat from atop his head. Aster was proud of Hermione, who had made an admirable effort to conceal the extent to which the dressmaker's appearance had unsettled her. She herself found him very handsome, his keratin glistening in the light of the lanterns filled with blue fireflies in his shop. It had to be said that his appearance was nowhere near as disturbing as that of the many species of soul-eater she had seen on her travels with Sonya.
Mr John used to run a shop in the magical district of Caernarfon in Wales, where he sold all sorts of made-to-measure clothes enchanted in the most delicate of ways. He had to close down his business when the Guild of Dressmakers and Enchanters took exception to his repeated refusal to join their organisation. At first, it was nothing more than a few threats, but a denunciation supported by one of the most anthropocentric noble families to the department for the control of magical creatures. As magical 'creatures' are not allowed to run their own businesses, Mr John preferred to flee before everything was taken from him by force. He was about to return to the continent when members of Asphodel, who had infiltrated the Ministry, got wind of the affair and persuaded him to let Asphodel help him 'disappear'.
When he told them this story, Aster felt a surge of pride in the initiative of the members of Asphodel.
As Aster explained the theme of the masked ball, Mr John watched them for a few seconds before getting down to work, begging them to trust him. Aster didn't regret trusting him for a second, especially now, as she took out of their bag her beautiful macroule coot costume and Hermione's dress in the colours of a great crested grebe. Both birds nest in the reed beds on the shores of lakes and ponds, perfect for the theme of ponds and marshes at the edge ball.
Her own costume consisted of soft grey linen trousers with a black leather belt with silver buckles, a tails jacket in a soft fabric of the deepest black with silver buttons, bluish grey boots and gloves with patterns reminiscent of the strange feet of coots, and as a centrepiece, a white porcelain mask covering the whole of her upper face and forehead, with an elegant pointed beak slightly curved. At the back of the mask was a black veil that covered her dark red hair, giving her a bird-like look, yet one of great elegance and comfort, the ruffle of the linen trousers against her legs, and the embrace of the belt being quite pleasing.
"Hermione! Look, what do you think?" She asked after putting it on.
"You look lovely, Aster! If you were any taller, you'd be intimidating!" Realising her mistake, Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide.
"One day! You'll see, Hermione! I'll be taller than you." Aster declared, offended.
"I won't be able to hold you in my arms or put you on my lap if you get too big." Hermione retorted.
Caught off guard, Aster didn't know what to say, preferring to hand Hermione the grebe costume rather than admit that the prospect of not being able to sit on Hermione's lap bothered her so much. She was small, sure, it bothered her to be seen that way, in a... non-threatening manner. But so far it hadn't really done her any harm. And when the shelves were too high, she had her magic, could climb them or perch on a chair. But on the other hand, her small size forced Hermione to bend down to kiss her, and how could she be perceived as strong with that damn size... But then, Hermione's knees could be so comfortable... Their internal debate was only interrupted by Hermione's voice. "Aster? What do you think?"
Aster gasped for a moment, unable to take her eyes off Hermione's beauty. The costume consisted of black trousers, a white linen shirt under an open reddish-grey blouse. Her mask covered the upper part of her face, revealing a charming smile on her mouth. The beak and an inverted triangle in the middle of the mask were black, the cheekbones white, but above all, her face was surrounded by feathers, a beautiful crest of black feathers adorning the top of her head, while a gradation of feathers ranging from white to red to black ran from the cheekbones of the mask to fall behind her shoulders.
Aster couldn't resist, she lifted her mask and literally climbed on top of Hermione to kiss her, the latter holding her by the waist. "You're gorgeous, Hermione," she whispered in her ear before dropping back to the floor and putting her mask back on. "Mr John is truly exceptional. Whatever awaits us at the ball, we're all dressed up." Said Aster as she grabbed her battle staff and stuffed it into one of the pockets of her jacket, Mr John having enchanted it to have enormous capacity. She handed Hermione her staff, before taking out the scrolls she had prepared for the occasion and putting them in the most accessible pockets of her costume. If the ball went well, she would then go straight to the edges in search of the iron chrysalids, and she would need her most powerful magics to travel with Hermione and brave the dangers of the lands bordering reality. This time, she would have neither Anna nor Sonya to protect her. She also slipped the set of potions she and Severus had prepared into discrete pockets on the inside of her jacket. The spells engraved on her staff may be powerful, but venturing into the edges without proper Magecraft scrolls sporting battle spells would have been foolish.
She handed Hermione the bag, and she did the same with the scrolls and potions she had taught her most recently. Hermione was still a long way from learning everything Aster had learned in the equivalent of over a decade on the fringes with Sonya and under Kav-deb's tutelage, but she was making inexorable progress, filling Aster with pride for her friend, love, and apprentice.
Aster glanced out of the window, the sun was still below the horizon, but the sky was beginning to be tinged with the first light of dawn, the blue of the sky lightening, a golden aura emerging on the horizon.
"It's time." she said simply, holding out her open hand to Hermione. The latter nodded and took it, a gleam of determination in her eyes.
Hand in hand, they left the room and slipped into the dark corridor of the sleeping hotel. All the lights were off, and the place was plunged into a strange, almost unearthly calm. The first employee would probably only start preparing breakfast for the guests in an hour or so.
It was easy to walk out of the hotel into the deserted streets of Drymen, immersed in the bluish half-light of the pre-dawn hours. The air was cool against her skin, pushed by a gentle breeze. At this hour of dawn, the cool currents of the night and the warm currents of the day mingled in invisible rivers that were most pleasant to cross. Aster clasped Hermione's hand in hers, feeling light just by physically sensing her presence right there beside her, without even having to concentrate to feel the magic running through her veins and along every nerve, alive, strong. That and the weight and warmth of the soul vial resting against her chest filled her with strength and hope.
Soon they were out of the village, walking along a small country road lined with dry-stone walls topped with vertical rocks, the road deserted except for a large grey cat sitting on one of the low walls, licking its paw before running it behind its ear. As they approached, it raised its head, its amber eyes shining for a moment in the half-light before it jumped up and disappeared into the tall grass on the other side of the wall.
In the distance, between the trees of a small copse, Aster could make out the jagged forms of the ruins of Buchanan Castle, great black shadows rising against the still dark blue sky, on which the last stars of the dying night stood out.
All around them, as the horizon grew brighter and brighter and the tops of the ancient ruined towers began to shimmer with the orange glow of the rising sun, still invisible from the ground, a thick mist began to rise from the ground in a translucent sheet, licking their knees and diffusing the still nascent light.
"Aster, I've just seen a rabbit wearing a wooden mask," Hermione whispered in her ear.
"Ignore them," replied Aster, pretending she hadn't seen the strange masked gopher snake watching them from a hollow between two stones in the low wall. "We're close."
Every minute, the fog thickened and rose, soon reaching their waists. Aster moved closer to Hermione, their shoulders now touching. "We're there," she murmured, stopping dead in front of a narrow path that left the road and wound its way through the copse towards the ruin. The magic that soaked the earth of the path almost gave her the impression of seeing a path of stars through her eye, blessed by Lagaelis, and between the trees, she could see a few asphodel flowers swaying to the rhythm of an invisible breeze.
Hermione glanced at her and nodded, her jaw clenched, a gleam of determination in her eyes.
The earth of the path was soft under their feet, a loose humus covered with dead leaves that would have made the ground a mosaic of past autumn colours if the blanket of fog moving at their feet as if alive had not become so thick that they found it difficult to follow the path. Aster felt she was being watched, and out of the corner of her eye she had spotted many animals wearing dark wooden masks, from field mice to deer.
Just as she could almost see the end of the path opening onto the ruins of the old castle, she stopped, her gaze fixed on a sparrow wearing a wooden mask, perched on one of the low branches of a young hazel tree. She would have chosen to ignore it like all the others, if her instincts weren't screaming danger, and her magical vision revealed a quantity of energy comparable to that of a powerful mage radiating from the little sparrow's body.
Under Hermione's intrigued gaze, she bowed slightly to the bird before addressing it as follows. "Hello, we've been invited to the ball, are you here to guide us?"
The sparrow tilted its head to one side for a moment, before letting itself glide towards the ground. Halfway there, its shape began to transform in grotesque fashion, bones cracking, purplish flesh twisting, cracked bluish skin contorting to adapt to the creature's metamorphosis. Soon a parody of a humanoid stood in front of her, far too tall and thin, its proportions all subtly wrong. Its arms too long, uneven, its legs with an extra joint. Then, with a final crack of sound, the thing's flesh changing for the last time, an androgynous figure appeared before her, dressed in an elegant dark blue tunic embroidered with silver, its face hidden behind a dark oval wooden mask pierced by two eye holes revealing only two vortexes of shifting darkness. The lines of wood running through the mask also seemed to move slowly, twisting in all directions like a mass of thin snakes. "Your invitation please." Said a voice devoid of timbre that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once, as the creature held out one of its hands, its fingers slender and elegant, perfect if they didn't have a phalanx too many each.
Aster took the letter out of her pocket and handed it to her, doing her best to hold the creature's disturbing gaze. For a moment, a strange reddish glow illuminated the parchment from within, before breaking off into a myriad of tiny, glistening symbols dancing around the creature's fingers. A fleeting breeze picked up, only to die immediately, carrying the glow into the mist, where it dissolved and lost its colour. With a supple, fluid gesture, the creature handed her back her letter before stepping out of the way, indicating with one of its arms the gap between the trees in the grove overlooking the ruin. "Welcome guests of the elder, come forth among the ancient stones and mosses, when the sun doth break, the ball shall open to you." Then, in a whisper, he evaporated into a fine blue mist dissipating in the air. At his words, echoes of welcome were whispered between the undergrowth and the thickets, the masked creatures whispering to each other.
As they resumed their walk and emerged from the copse, Aster saw a shiver shake Hermione's shoulders. "What was that?" she asked in a low voice, glancing behind her shoulder.
"It was a shapeshifter, one time, Kav-deb had invited one over to discuss herbal teas and smoke Langkor grass. They can be anything and are immortal in essence. Try never to make an enemy of one of them. For example, the Witch of the East, I don't think you've heard of her, but Anna has told me stories about her. Baba-yaga some call her. Her isba, a kind of house perched on two big hen's legs, is a shapeshifter." She said as she walked across the dewy grass, observing the fascinating shapes that time, plants and storms had carved into the stones of the ruin. What was left of the highest towers was illuminated in a vibrant orange, the light coming closer to the ground as the moment when the sun would appear on the horizon drew nearer.
"Like metamorphmagus? Can they become that sort of thing?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows furrowing.
"Not that I know of, from what I've read about shapeshifters, we don't really know how they come into being, they appear and disappear as they please, they can become objects, any creatures, but not just in appearance, they can acquire all the properties as well. The only way to spot them is to be able to see the magic. One thing is certain, there's nothing human about them. I've heard of a theory that metamorphmagus are descended from humans who had children with shape shifters... but that's just a hypothesis, one that's far too difficult to prove." Aster explained, turning towards where the sun would rise. Dawn was imminent now, and the horizon was shrouded in a halo ranging from orange to gold, the last stars of the night eclipsed by the rising light.
"Do not let go of my hand." Aster said, and she felt Hermione's hand squeeze hers tighter as her only response, Hermione coming closer until their shoulders were touching.
A moment later, the first rays of sunlight crossed the horizon, caressing their faces. At the same moment, the mists, as if shaken by an invisible wind, began to grow, covering everything in a translucent veil. All around them, Aster could see the silhouettes of asphodels appearing within the mists. Distant, dancing music, with echoes of muffled bagpipes, began to be heard, at first almost imperceptible, then louder and louder, followed by the sound of voices in all sorts of languages, some of which she recognised, others completely foreign to her. Through the mists, she could see the sun rising unnaturally fast in the sky, before coming to rest just above the horizon, in its position of eternal twilight and dawn above the edges. The music had ceased to intensify, and the scent of food and the sound of footsteps could be felt around them, then, as if evaporating, the mists disappeared to make way for a very different spectacle.
They were now both standing in the open courtyard of a castle residence in perfect condition, its windows illuminated from the inside, its stone walls covered in vines and ivy, its grey stones orange in the twilight. The courtyard opened onto the outside of the castle, revealing that it was situated at the top of a hill overlooking immense meadows covered in asphodel flowers as far as the eye could see, the heady scent of which Aster could smell from here.
"Are we really in the borders?" She heard Hermione say, as if she could hardly believe her eyes.
"In the first level, Anna called it the asphodel plain." A strange excitement rose in Aster's heart, as if by entering the edge she had somehow returned home. A place affiliated to the many memories she had of her travels through these strange lands alongside Anna, but also Sonya, and sometimes even Kav-deb when he agreed to leave his home.
Aster glanced at Hermione, who seemed completely absorbed by what she saw around her, her gaze skipping from guest to guest. It had to be said that to describe the people gathered this evening for the Masquerade Ball of the Fringe Folk as motley would have been an understatement. Part of the ball seemed to be taking place right here, in the courtyard of the castle, under the eternal twilight sky of the Edges, while another part must have been inside, with guests coming and going from the various buildings of the castle. Here, in the courtyard, tables were laid out along the walls, on which were placed various victuals and drinks. Ranging from nibbles to full plates, as well as glasses and other more... peculiar containers holding various liquids, some indefinable. Some of the dishes served absurdly coloured pieces of meat, and one kind of stew even seemed to contain what she recognised as the flesh of a species of soul eater endemic to the third level of the edges. Not far away, on a midnight-blue tablecloth embroidered with silver was a bottle of apple juice, or so it seemed to her, next to a bowl containing a golden-yellow liquid mist that moved by itself.
In a corner of the courtyard, on a raised floor, was a group of strange musicians; no two were of the same species, and most of them were unknown to her. Apart from the matagot wearing a cat mask playing the bagpipes and the redcap perched on a wooden barrel as conductor, using a long tapering dagger as a baton, the others were hard to describe, their instruments as strange as they were. The resulting music was unlike anything she had heard before, but its gentle harmonies served their purpose perfectly as background and dance music.
As for the guests, they were as diverse as they were varied, but all dressed up and masked in keeping with the theme of the evening, apart from the two kelpies with their eternally damp seaweed fur, only their faces hidden by a dark veil. There was no need to dress up any more than necessary as creatures of the lake and pond. A group of ten or so crimson-clad redcaps wearing masks reminiscent of mosquitoes were dancing and drinking in the middle of the courtyard to the rhythm of the music. Alone in a corner, dressed in a long light grey cloak and wearing a mask of plaited reeds, stood a banshee, her gaze meeting Aster's for a moment, her porcelain-white face contorted into a broad smile revealing several rows of small, sharp teeth.
And those were only the least strange guests. It was the first time Aster had seen so many black mages gathered in one place. Some were still almost entirely unchanged from their original form, bearing the scars of only two or three contracts, others were in more or less advanced stages, some still having a majority of their own body, others having become heaps of contracts, beings, entities and curses amalgamated together in coherent nexuses of magic held together by the will of a soul deformed by the excessive use of black magic.
Finally, there were the others, those whose nature Aster had no idea about and whom she suspected had come across the edges from distant worlds. It was all the more difficult to get an idea of their shapes as they were disguised and masked as aquatic creatures just as strange as the beings behind the masks.
The being that caught her eye the most was a major spirit - it was the first time she had seen one, as they usually remained hidden in their kingdoms. Most spirits outside their realms were minor spirits too diluted to be seen, even by her blessed eye, with the exception of a few seers particularly affected by the magic of their realms or of Avalon. This one looked like a great white heron made entirely of magic so dense it had crystallised. It stood opposite a small group of various animals, some of which she recognised as endemic to the edge of the forest, all wearing the strange wooden masks worn by those in the grove before the ruin. The spirit dipped its long beak into a kind of jar from which a purplish vapour escaped, before blowing it into the air to give it whimsical shapes for the pleasure of its small audience.
Aster was tempted to talk directly to some of the mages present, in the hope of obtaining information about where to find an iron chrysalids. She had read that certain merchant caravans in the depths of the edges might have them, but where to find them in the infinite immensities of these quasi-planes was another matter. Just as she was about to set off in the direction of a small group of black mages chatting together, she was stopped by Hermione's hand on her shoulder. "Not so fast, Aster, you promised me a dance." She said with a mischievous smile.
Aster sighed but a smile spread across her lips all the same. After all, she had learned to enjoy their dance training over the last few days in preparation for the ball. And if Hermione wanted to dance first, and ask questions later, so be it... The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Hermione was afraid she would try to get out of it and not dance, or even leave her alone in this unknown and potentially dangerous place.
Soon, they found themselves in the centre of the courtyard, Hermione leading the dance, both of them letting themselves be guided by the rhythm of the music, which sounded vibrant and whose melody, although disturbing, carried a most pleasant energy. Around them, various beings were also dancing, sometimes alone, sometimes in a group, their movements quite different from those of the waltzes that Aster and Hermione had seen for inspiration.
Hermione may have been holding something, it's true that dancing like this was most pleasant, her right hand in her left hand, her left hand on her shoulder, her right hand on her waist, their eyes on each other moving as one, carried by the music. They danced like that for three songs, until Hermione winced and Aster pulled her out of the way of the other dancers.
"I'm just getting tired, and my feet are a bit sore." Hermione told her.
"You don't have to push yourself like that, you could have said that earlier."
"I wanted to dance more…" said Hermione guiltily.
"You know, there's nothing to stop us turning on the gramophone and dancing around the house more often," smiled Aster, although she had a feeling that she might come to regret the offer. But right now, she couldn't resist Hermione's gaze.
"Excuse me?" Said a woman's voice in English with a strong old Scottish accent.
"Yes?" said Aster, turning towards her interlocutor. She immediately recognised Amaranthe, the black mage who had come to give her the letter of invitation, busy dipping his long trunk in a cup of steaming liquid, his... face, if it could be called that, hidden behind a frog mask. The voice wasn't coming from him, but rather from his companion. A small witch, taller than her but shorter than Hermione, wearing a large brown cloak covering her completely, the upper part of her face hidden behind a mask giving the impression that a large dragonfly had landed on her forehead. Her complexion was pale, and her thin lips were coloured blue. Her age was impossible to tell, there were no wrinkles visible on her cheeks or around her mouth and her luminous blue eyes sparkled behind the mask, but the black magic that Aster saw in what she felt was a fairly powerful grey mage was not deceiving, she wasn't dealing with just anyone.
"You are Mademoiselle Karrasinki, and your companion, Mademoiselle Snow. Am I mistaken?" she asked kindly.
Aster exchanged a quick glance with Hermione, a slight nod from the latter telling her all she needed to know about her companion's opinion of this exchange. "Indeed, that's us. I recognise Amaranth..." she said, tilting her head slightly towards him "... but who are you?"
"You can call me Beatrice. I am the mistress of the caches of the fringe folk of Scotland, and it was I who asked my spouse to bring it to you." She replied, placing her left hand on one of Amaranth's pseudopods.
"That's... very kind of you, we weren't expecting it. I'm curious to know why though." She said, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, there are several reasons for that, you see, I'm a great admirer of your Order of the Asphodel," she said.
"How do you know it exists?" Aster asked, trying not to sound too defensive. She had done her best to check which other organisations the Asphodel was revealed to, so if there was a breach in their security...
"Don't worry, it's highly unlikely that anyone less informed than me would discover your organisation. I only learned of its existence thanks to the little brothers of the edge people who have themselves joined it, you know."
"So what are you after?" Aster asked, not wishing to beat around the bush any further.
"I have a proposal to make. How would you like to formalise an alliance between the people of the edges and the Order of Asphodel? Imagine, through us, you would have access to the edges at any time, as well as trade with other worlds without having to wait for the rare visits of caravans of Fahri yujuls passing through terra-thra."
Aster bit her lip, the proposal was more than tempting, but... "What's in it for you?"
"I can tell you don't like skirting around the issue... very well. You see, since the advent of the statute of secrecy, the muggles are taking up more and more space, their towns, their roads and their agriculture are gaining ground. But our caches need to be anchored in the main plain if they are not to drift away, carried by the capricious currents of the edges. We've tried to hang on to the few areas of nature that have been preserved as reserves for magical creatures, but the wizards' wards make it impossible to set up caches there. I've seen Asphodel's policies, and I have no doubt that if we were to base our caches in your enclaves, both the Edge People and Asphodel would benefit. What's more, we know that the years of the Statute of Secrets are numbered, so it would be leaps and bounds not to join a growing alliance rather than find ourselves in the crossfire."
Aster frowned, Beatrice was speaking the truth... the advantages of such an alliance were undeniable. But there was no need to make hasty decisions. It would be better to discuss it first with Hermione in private, and with Ethan, the other members of the council, Nepeta and perhaps Samarillis, as this kind of decision was not to be taken lightly. "We'll think about it, it's an interesting proposal". She said after a moment's reflection.
"Very well, young lady, take all the time you need, keep the letter of invitation carefully, write on it and we can meet again to discuss it." Beatrice said with a smile.
"You said there were several reasons for our meeting, however." Aster remarked.
"Yes, you see, you and I have something in common. Lagaelis has honoured us both with their gifts."
"Really? Are there others like us?"
"Yes, I'm sure there are many, but Lagaelis isn't an entity that often interacts with its agents, so I have no idea who the others are, it was only by chance that I discovered that they had chosen you."
Aster's excitement at this discovery made her lose all restraint. She wasn't alone, maybe she'd finally get some answers. "How long have you been one of his grey mages? How did you meet him? What do you know about him!?"
"Calm down, calm down little one, one question at a time." Beatrice laughed. "He contacted me during a ritual a little over a century ago, promising me powers I could only dream of if I offered him my heart. At the time, I was alone, lost and in desperate need, so I accepted, without realising that he meant it literally. Since then, something else has been beating in my chest. I see that he has taken one of your eyes, offered you a third, and taken your arm... As to what he is, what he wants, that's a vast question."
"What do you mean?"
"Lagaelis is... A fractured entity, are you familiar with the concept of birthless?" When Aster nodded, she resumed. "Lagaelis is one, but its essence is currently fractured, unable to regain its unity on its own. It's only a theory, but I think it uses its mages as anchors to stabilise its existence and provide energy in its long process of reconstitution. Sometimes I am ordered to do things for it, but I haven't been able to work out for what purpose."
'Thanks... I really don't know what to think of it, it was my master who gave me my first contract with it. For years, hardly anything from it and... you're aware of the events surrounding Azkaban?"
Beatrice nodded. "I did, a very strange affair, I felt my very heart vibrate that day. But I know that Lagaelis is involved but... as for the details…"
"Lagaelis appeared to me in a dream, after I had walked through a huge forest of blue oaks. He offered me a pact, a kind of link with my soul, in exchange for getting me out of Azkaban. One of his avatars appeared and lured the monster beneath the prison into a rift in the sky."
"I see. I don't think I can enlighten you. To do so, I would have to know what the creature you are talking about was. However... blue oaks you say?"
"Yes." said Aster, pulling out the blue acorn she had taken to carrying with her since her escape.
Béatrice's eyes widened behind her mask. "Where you met Lagaelis, that was very real, the dreamlands. Beware, it's a place just as dangerous as the edges, a refuge for ghouls and things banished from other kingdoms. If you've been there once, you're bound to it. On that note, is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Before I let you get back to the party?"
Aster, disturbed by the concern in Beatrice's voice when she spoke of the dreamlands, blinked rapidly. "Yes, one last thing. We're looking for an iron chrysalids. Do you know where we can obtain one?"
Beatrice was silent for a moment. "An iron chrysalids you say? I'm afraid I've never heard of such a thing. What exactly is it? If I can't enlighten you completely, perhaps I can point you in the right direction". As she said this, Aster could hear a certain curiosity in her voice, as if it had been a long time since she had faced the unknown and it was titillating her.
"It's an artefact that allows you to sew souls to physical objects, to manipulate their structure." She said after a brief hesitation. In any case, she had no doubt that Beatrice would be able to discover this information on her own later, and being frank would allow her to gain a little more trust.
"You're looking for something interesting. I don't know any equivalent myself, but ... Perhaps Janessra will be able to help you."
"Who is it?" Hermione asked.
"He's one of the guests, follow me and I'll introduce you." She said as she started to walk, Amaranth, still silent, following close behind. "Ah here he is!" She said as she approached the great white heron, which was forming dozens of little blue smoke lizards that flew into the air for a few moments before dissipating under the gaze of its strange audience, ranging from rodents to mustelids and various birds, all still wearing their little wooden masks.
"Why the masks?" asked Aster.
"Oh, the fringe's folks welcome those who have lost their way and only have a place between worlds, those who want to disappear or metamorphose. They are given a mask and a name when they join the Edge People."
Aster was far from satisfied with this answer, but she felt it would be wrong to try and find out more.
Once they were a few metres from the Greater Spirit, they stopped, Beatrice seeming content to wait for Janessra to give them his attention, a decision with which Aster could not agree more, even if Hermione was showing signs of impatience. After all, interrupting a Greater Spirit was close to suicide.
After a few minutes and forms of whimsical fumes released into the air, he stoppered his flask with a cork. All his audience dispersed, disappearing between the stones, under the bushes and tables or taking flight, then he turned to them.
"Janessra! These two little ones have some questions for you, can you take a little of your time to answer them?"
"Of course Beatrice." replied a crystalline voice that Aster was sure she heard more in her head than as real sound.
"Thank you Janessra. Good luck Miss Karrasinqi, Miss Snow." She said before leaving, pulling Amaranth by the pseudopod, the latter having been distracted by the dancers not far away.
"The stories of your exploits have reached the spirit realms, Karrasinqi. Lagaelis was right to make you one of his chosen ones. And you, Miss Snow, I can taste your magic and your potential in the air... yes, together you will grow. Don't let the winds of fate blow you apart and perhaps you'll join the spheres of the awakened. Forgive me, I'm rambling, what can I do for you?" He said as he came uncomfortably close to her, the tip of his beak only a few centimetres away.
At this distance, Aster could only see his magic, a mischievous clarity that reminded her of Anna's description of fairies, but with a power like no other, that of a being made up of pure magic, condensed into a being in its own right. If what she knew about spirits was right, he must be several thousand years old. Spirits are born in the form of mushi, mindless aggregates of magic born in places charged with magic. Those that survived long enough grew to develop a form, then a soul, often imitating the form of animals, and with each passing year, their essence strengthened into a more stable and powerful being. It was not uncommon for local deities to turn out to be spirits a hundred years old or even older, born in a place to which they had become emotionally and magically attached. It was impossible to judge the age of the being facing her, but one thing was certain, it was better not to be too cheeky.
"I'm honoured that you've heard of us, I hope for the best. She said with a slight smile, a certain pride growing in her chest at being recognised in this way."
"Good or bad, it doesn't matter, as long as the story is good…" he said. The gleam in his eyes, and the power behind his words, made Aster shiver. "Let me guess, your request has something to do with the little soul you keep so preciously around your neck, doesn't it?"
"How?" Hermione began, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Aster put a hand on her shoulder, she could feel the worry crawling under her skin.
"That's right." Aster said as she glanced at Hermione, hoping it would be enough to indicate that she considered she had the situation under control. 'We're looking for an iron chrysalids. Do you know where we could find one?"
"Of course, I can put you in touch with my supplier…" He said, his amusement growing in his magic.
Aster sighed, "What's your price?"
"Oh, nothing big, I just want that when Anna Karrasinqi is back in corporeal form, that she will be indebted to Janessra Kabahib-shinaq. After all, it's not fair that you alone should bear the price of her resurrection, is it?" He said with palpable pleasure.
"I promise." Said Aster after a few seconds of hesitation. It was a suspicious request, but she didn't really have a choice. The moment her words left her mouth, an invisible bond of magic crystallised between her and Janessra. The sensation quickly dissipated, as if nothing had happened.
"Thank you my sweet, now it's my turn to honour my part of the bargain. There is a people of itinerant merchants in the depths of the edges. Their long, pale caravans march along the winding paths skirting the surface of the starry lake at the final frontier before the beyond. Perhaps you've heard of the ancient race of the Ashog's fogs. Supplying myself to them, I know they'll have what you're looking for." With a flick of his wing, he revealed a long plate of opaque white crystal in which was engraved a series of symbols, or writing, unknown to her. The object levitated in their direction until it landed in her hand.
"What is it?" asked Hermione.
"A map of the edges, and a letter of recommendation, they won't sell to just anyone after all."
"A map?" Hermione asked, peering at the object over Aster's shoulder.
"Edge maps aren't like the ones we are used to. They're more like compasses, for spotting the distorted paths of the edges, and guiding oneself to a destination by following certain indicators," Aster said, swaying the object with fascination. She could see that it was made of pure crystallised magic too, as if it were part of Janessra's body...
"Your master has taught you well, young Karrasinqi... that's exactly it, follow the blueberries, and you'll undoubtedly find one of their caravans. Good road and good luck." He said before turning away from them and heading towards one of the tables laden with delicacies.
"Hermione, we're nearly there! Aster said, clutching the map in her hand.
"I can't wait to meet Anna." She replied, giving Aster an encouraging look.
Aster took her hand in hers and squeezed it affectionately. "We should take a look inside, enjoy the party, travelling the edges is a difficult business and we may not see civilisation again for a while."
"I must say, their petit fours are much better than what we took with us," Hermione replied with amusement as she was led down a carved stone corridor with walls covered in tapestries depicting festive scenes lit by levitating golden spheres of light.
It was then that Aster heard footsteps coming from opposite, but paid them little heed until something pulled her forcefully by the back of her collar, sending her literally through one of the walls, as if it were made of mist. Until she and Hermione found themselves in a small room lit by the dancing light of a wood fire.
Aster freed herself from the thing that had grabbed her by the collar, and fluttered out of its reach, her battle staff in hand, ready to reduce to ashes anyone who had the audacity to attack her and Hermione. But when her gaze fell on the only other creature, beside them, in the room, she froze, her eyes wide, fixed on the last person she expected to see here. "Yaesh!? What the hell are you doing here?"