Lavender sat on the stone, back against a column that might not be there tomorrow. Her shirt clung damply to her skin. Her scars felt hot now: overworked, irritated, alive.
She wiped her face with her sleeve. “So what’s the plan?” Zemmal didn’t answer right away. Brute did, because of course he did. “The plan is we walk into Authority like we belong there.” She shot him a flat look. “That’s not a plan. That’s a fantasy.” Brute’s response was swift. “It’s a concept. Plans are for people who don’t get hunted.”
Zemmal gaze was hard. You cannot overpower their entire structure. Not yet. Maybe not ever. You will have to move through it.
“Infiltrate,” Lavender said. Zemmal nodded once.
Brute grinned, sharp. “Sneak. Lie. Steal. My favorite activities.” Lavender stared at him. “You’re a dog.” His grin didn’t fade. “Don’t limit me.” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t have an ID. I don’t have an assignment. I don’t have the tattoos. I don’t have…”
A shadow shifted at the edge of the courtyard. Lavender’s spine went rigid on instinct. Reibella appeared like she’d always been there and they had simply noticed her late. She leaned against a column that definitely had not existed moments before. Her expression was mildly amused, which somehow felt more threatening than anger.
“You’re listing problems,” Reibella observed. “How practical. How depressing.”
Lavender’s heart thundered. “Were you watching?”
Reibella’s smile widened. “Of course.”
Brute’s ears angled back. “Creepy.” Reibella’s reply was a swift and stinging hiss. Her tone shifted. Became less playful, more intent. “Training is no longer your only problem. Authority is escalating. They are not looking for you with patience anymore.”
Brute muttered, “shocking.” Reibella made a sound like laughter. “Black is furious.”
Lavender’s stomach dropped at the name. Even here, even in the castle, it felt like speaking it invited something in. Reibella stepped closer, and the air cooled around her as if the world knew what she was. “You will infiltrate with their help,” she said simply. “Soon.”
Lavender’s mouth went dry. “You said I wasn’t ready.”
Reibella’s expression flickered something like regret, quick as a blink. “I said you needed time. Authority is not interested in granting it.”
Zemmal’s voice rumbled, What are the steps? His question hung in the air like a heavy fog. Reibella watched them for a moment, head tilted as if listening to something only she could hear. Then she smiled, gentle in the way rain is at the end of a storm.
“The steps,” she echoed, as if amused the concept required order. “How reassuring. Fine. Here is your dreadful little plan.”
Lavender pushed herself up from the ground, legs protesting. She kept her face neutral, but her scars pulsed in faint irritation like they didn’t appreciate being volunteered. Brute stayed close, shoulder pressed to her shin, a familiar weight with too much awareness behind it. Reibella flicked her fingers. The courtyard shifted. The columns straightened, the open space narrowing into a tunnel. A long table formed from the stone in the center, rising from the platform. Along its surface faint lines began to glow, sketching shapes: a blocky compound, rigid corridors, towers, sigils. Authority’s geometry rendered into light.
Lavender stared at it. “You have a map.”
“I have everything,” Reibella corrected cheerfully. “Maps are merely the version of everything humans can tolerate.”
Zemmal’s eyes narrowed. The plan. Reibella’s smiled brightened at the insistence, like she enjoyed now being told what to do by her own creation. “First: entry. You cannot fight your way into Authority. Not as you are. You will not be walking in as fugitives.”
Brute snorted. “We’re not.” Reibella’s gaze slid to him. “You are a dog with a criminal record older than continents. Don’t be smug.” Brute’s tail thumped once, offended on principle.
She returned her attention to Lavender. “You will be walking in as employees.”
Lavender blinked. “I don’t…”
“I know,” Reibella said quickly, waving her off as if reality was a minor interruption. “You don’t have the badges, codes, the dead little bureaucratic soul they love so much.” Her eyes gleamed. “So I will give you the next best thing.”
A glamour, Zemmal said, and it was not quite a question. Reibella looked pleased. “Yes. A veil. Something that tells the mind what it expects to see and rewards it for not thinking too hard.”
Brute’s ears flicked forward. “That sounds fragile.”
“It is,” Reibella replied. “Everything involving humans is fragile. That’s their charm.”
Lavender’s stomach tightened. “If it’s fragile, it’s a bad idea.”
Reibella’s features softened. “No, Lav. It’s a temporary idea. There’s a difference.” Lavender crossed her arms, mostly to keep her hands from shaking. “So, we’ll look like Authority workers?”
“Yes. You will look like mid-level personnel. Unremarkable. Tired. Mildly resentful. The perfect disguise, honestly,” Reibella said with boastful confidence.
Brute glanced at Lavender. “You can do tired.”
Lavender shot him a look. “I can do resentful.”
“Excellent,” Reibella said, delighted. “You’re already in character.”
Zemmal’s voice cut in, dry as stone. How.
Reibella tapped the glowing map with one elegant finger. The light rippled as if flinching under her touch. “You will enter at an access seam. Not a front gate. Not a checkpoint. They have too much ritual there. Too much attention. We’ll choose something they consider unimportant.”
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Lavender frowned. “A maintenance entry.” Reibella’s eyes brightened. “Yes. A service corridor that feeds the lower research wing. The place where the walls sweat and the lights flicker and the workers stop believing anyone higher up cares if they live.”
Brute made a low sound. “Sounds familiar.” Lavender didn’t like how accurate that felt.
Reibella continued, pacing slowly around the table. The candles that didn’t exist in the courtyard a moment ago drifted into being overhead and followed her like obedient moons. “Second: behavior. The glamour will not withstand scrutiny. It will withstand expectation.”
Lavender’s scars warmed, uneasy. “Meaning if someone looks to closely…”
“It unravels,” Reibella finished, pleasant as ever. “Not dramatically. It will simply …stop persuading.”
Zemmal’s tail twitched. Then she is seen.
Lavender swallowed. “And if we’re seen…”
“You run,” Reibella advised.
Brute’s sneeze was sharp. “Run where? Into the walls?”
Reibella’s gaze slid to him. “You run back out the way you came. If you can.” Her smile sharpened. “If you can’t, then you do what humans always do when they realize their system aren’t enough.”
Lavender’s mouth went dry. “Fight.”
“Fight,” Reibella agreed softly. The word settled over the courtyard like a chill.
Lavender looked down at her hands. At the scars that glowed faintly when she was frightened or angry or too awake. “If we have to fight our way out, we’ll be fighting an entire compound.”
Brute bumped her calf. “We’ve done worse.”
Lavender stared at him. “Name one thing worse than an armed Authority research facility.”
Brute thought for a moment. “Puberty.” Lavender’s mouth twitched despite herself. Zemmal made a sound that might have been disgust.
Reibella looked delighted. “See? Bonding.”
Lavender forced her focus back. “What’s the objective?”
“You find Black,” Reibella intoned firmly.
Lavender’s stomach sank. “That’s a big ask.”
“It is,” Reibella agreed. “So you start smaller. You find what she is building.”
Brute’s ears angled forward. “Phase Four.”
Reibella’s eyes flicked to him. “Yes.”
Zemmal’s voice rumbled so loudly Lavender would have though he spoke aloud. Explain.
Reibella’s smile returned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Phase Four is not a project. It is a net. They are sweeping RC3 and the barrens for anyone whose blood contains the hum of magic. They are caging magic-users and feeding them into a weapon.”
Lavender’s scars flared hot under her skin. Her breath hitched. “A weapon powered by people.”
Reibella’s gaze held hers, unwavering. “Yes”
Brute’s voice went low. “They’re not even pretending now.”
Reibella tilted her head. “They never did. They just used nicer words. Compliance. Protection. Containment. Humans adore euphemism. It makes cruelty feel clean. As a species, you’re not the cleverest. Stupidity breeds cruelty.”
Lavender clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. “So we go in. We find where they’re keeping them.”
“Yes,” Reibella replied. “You learn the weapon’s location, the stage of development, the power source. You learn what they’re doing to the people they’ve taken.” Her smile thinned. “And you do not get caught.”
Lavender’s laugh came out brittle. “That’s the part you say like it’s optional.”
Zemmal’s eyes narrowed to a slit. The glamour. Will it work on me?
Reibella looked at him like he’d just said something charmingly stupid. “No.” Zemmal’s posture stiffened. Reibella raised a hand. “Not because you’re too large,” she added quickly, as if that was the concern. “Because you are too… you. You are a story the world recognizes. You carry too much weight. People’s instincts will notice even if their eyes lie.”
Zemmal’s wings shifted, irritation grinding through the stone. Then I cannot enter.
“No, you cannot. You will need to be safely hidden nearby in case they run into …complications. This would be what is referred to commonly as a ‘backup plan’.”
Continue, Zemmal’s voice was serious.
Reibella tapped the table again. The glowing map shifted, expanding. A thin line appeared; an underground route, hugging the compound’s perimeter like a vein. “You will not be in their walls but beneath them. In the service channels and vent spaces. In the dead architecture that keeps their machines breathing.”
Lavender’s stomach twisted. “That sounds miserable.”
“It is,” Reibella noted cheerfully. “That’s how you know it’s accurate.”
Brute huffed. “And what about me?”
Reibella’s gaze slid to him again. “You, my dear criminal, are small and unthreatening.”
Brute blinked. “I am not unthreatening.”
“You are a dog,” Reibella reminded him. “Humans see you and think pet. Or pest. Either way, they do not think apocalypse.”
Brute looked deeply insulted. “Rude.”
Reibella waved a hand. “You will be glamoured too, of course. Collar. Tag. Official-looking harness. Perhaps a tiny badge. Something that says you belong to a handler. Have a purpose.”
Brute’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not.”
Lavender’s mouth twitched. “I would pay to see you in a tiny badge.”
Brute turned and stared at her like she’d committed a personal betrayal. “Don’t.”
Zemmal’s voice was dry. Do.
Brute looked between them, aghast. “You’re both against me!”
Lavender lifted her hands, innocent. “We’re just appreciating the aesthetic.”
Reibella clapped once, pleased. “Good. Team cohesion. I’ll have the castle sew you matching uniforms.”
Brute bared his teeth. “If you do that, I’ll bite you.”
Reibella’s smile went sharp and wide. “Try.”
Brute shut his mouth.
Lavender exhaled slowly, forcing herself back into practicality. “So the glamour covers us visually. What about… sensors, rigs, readers?”
Reibella’s expression shifted again, becoming precise. “Their machines measure disruption. Energy variance. The way magic warps predictable fields.”
Lavender’s scars warmed in warning. “So if I use magic…”
“They will notice,” Reibella finished. “Immediately.”
Brute’s voice turned serious. “Then no magic inside.”
Lavender looked at him. “That seems unlikely.”
“It’s a requirement,” Brute replied. “You can’t throw lightning in a hallway and expect them not to react.”
Lavender muttered, “You say that like I enjoy throwing lightning in hallways.”
Brute’s eyes narrowed. “You do.” Lavender didn’t deny it.
Zemmal’s voice came deep and steady. If she cannot use magic, she is vulnerable.
Reibella made a show of pondering this before saying, “Not entirely. The glamour will dampen her signature. Enough to pass if she remains still inside herself.”
Lavender choked out the word. “Still.”
“Yes, like you’ve been learning. Like you hate,” Reibella quipped.
Lavender stared at the glowing map, at the ridged lines representing Authority’s compound, and felt her stomach hollow out with the weight of it. “So we walk in,” she said slowly. “We pretend to belong. We do not touch anyone. We do not make contact.”
Reibella nodded. “If you do not make contact, you will not be noticed.”
Brute’s ears flicked. “And if they do make contact.”
Reibella’s gaze sharpened. “Then the glamour becomes a suggestion someone chooses not to accept.”
Lavender shivered. “And we fight.”
Her smile returned gentle and terrible. “Then you fight your way back out.”
Zemmal’s claws flexed against the stone, an audible scrape. And if we cannot?
Reibella’s expression flickered; something like foreboding, quick and dark. “Then you die,” she said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “Or worse, you are taken.” Lavender’s scars thrummed with heat.
Brute pressed against her leg solid and grounding. “Not happening.”
Reibella’s eyes lingered on Brute for a moment. Fondness, sharp-edged. “That devotion will get you killed.”
Brute’s voice was steady. “I know.”
Lavender glanced down at him, then at Zemmal; old and surly and watching her like she was both liability and hope. Then back to Reibella, who looked almost pleased to be afraid. “What’s the timeline,” she asked, forcing her voice to stay even.
Reibella rolled her eyes to the sky, “soon.”
Lavender’s mouth tightened. “That’s not a date.”
“It’s the only one you get,” Reibella replied. “Authority is moving. Black is moving. If you wait for a perfect moment, you will wait until the world is ash.”
Lavender exhaled. Her heartbeat steadied, not because she was calm, but because her body recognized the shape of inevitable work. “Alright,” she said quietly. “Show me the glamour.”
Reibella’s eyes gleamed. “Gladly,” she murmured, and the courtyard’s light shifted as if the castle itself leaned in to watch what came next.
Thank you for reading my story. I spent a long time working on it and am glad I get to share it with others. Not your speed though? Check out another cool author below to give a try!

