“She came all the way here just to talk shit about us?” Ami asked, shoving a forkful of chicken into her mouth before she even finished her sentence.

  The four girls and Grace were all gathered in the agency lobby for dinner. Somehow, they managed to fit five plates on the coffee table at the center of the room, which became their makeshift dining table on the nights they all ate together. Adah and Rika shared the lobby’s one couch, Grace pulled up a chair, and the twins elected to simply sit cross-legged on the floor.

  The back office connected to a kitchenette that was so cramped it probably violated the fire code, yet had everything needed to whip up a simple meal. That being said, Adah and the others almost never made use of anything but the microwave, so it was only Grace who did proper cooking back there. The girls were left to fend for themselves about half the nights of the week, while Grace stayed late and cooked the other half. Adah figured that was probably a decision Grace made after seeing the kinds of food—if you could call it that—her agency’s young talent kept in the fridge and pantry.

  Tonight was one such night the four magical girls were graced with a nutritionally balanced meal.

  Adah swallowed her own bite and said, “She wasn’t just insulting us. It was like we’d offended her somehow beyond the trash talk.”

  When they had all gathered for dinner, Adah recounted her talk with Iris, trying her best to capture the girl’s mannerisms in her own words.

  “Well, we did call her out on camera,” Rika said. “Of course she’d want to say something back.”

  Adah shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that either. She’s really serious about being the regional rep, and not just because she wants to win. It feels like she wouldn’t care so much about losing to us if we were from another region. She just really doesn’t want to lose at the regional stage.”

  “So she thinks we’re invading her territory,” Rika said.

  “Something like that, maybe.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Emi said. “We'll win either way.”

  “Emi’s right,” Ami said. “She might wish she could choose when she loses to us, but we don’t care about when we beat her. And if she wanted to intimidate us, it backfired. I’m even more excited to crush them now!”

  “You won’t be crushing anyone in the first round,” Grace finally joined the conversation. “In fact, you and the DreamRise team are going to be working together.”

  Apparently Grace had leveled up in her own way—she silenced the four girls with a simple raised hand before they could fire a single shot of their usual volley of objections. The girls exchanged glances, waiting to see if anyone was brave enough to break the line and speak up, but all of their mouths stayed zippered shut.

  “The regional government is interested in both our teams, and they see an opportunity to turn the IndieMagie into more than just a competition,” Grace explained. “I’m not sure how much you know about DreamRise, but they’re a lot like us in some ways. We’re both… unconventional. The region’s Secretary of Magic is starting to see that as a strength, now that we’re both gaining some fans. He wants to use the IndieMagie to turn our teams into the face, or faces, of Region 4.”

  Each region had a Secretary in charge of the creatively named Department of Magic, which was tasked with managing licenses for magic users, regulating agencies, and coordinating cross-regional magic activity. These Secretaries usually stuck to such clerical duties, but it wasn’t unheard of for them to take an interest in promoting certain teams. After all, magic users were essentially public servants. The more popular they got, the better an employee—or soldier—they became.

  Grace continued, “He wants Region 4 to lead the way on a new wave of magical girls. Nobody in our region can compete with the biggest agencies in a traditional approach. We’ll never become a mecca of magic power, but we might be able to stake our claim as the home of the creative underground. A place that celebrates teams that have some rough edges. Instead of trying to do what other regions do, only worse, we can try carve out our own space.

  “The Secretary wants to position Region 4 as where unique talents gather. A place that’s willing to dedicate the time and attention to develop magic users at an individual level instead of an agency level. The systems in other regions are too critical to safety and too knotted up to take things slow. They need to keep propping up talent strong enough to fight A-Ranks, keep filling stadiums for shareholders, and keep the money machine running. One of the benefits of being in a quiet region is that there’s no immediate pressure on you girls—the region is willing to treat you as a long-term investment.”

  Adah had a grocery list of questions, but she started with the most important one.

  “So why does any of this mean we need to work with DreamRise? We’re both trying to win the same competition.”

  Grace took her time cutting off a piece of the chicken breast on her plate and slowly chewing it. Adah couldn’t tell if she was going slow on purpose.

  Eventually, she held up two fingers and said, “Two teams per region advance through the first round of the IndieMagie. That means you’re not enemies until the second round and, if the powers that be request it, you can even be allies. You can lift each other up, help each other gain fans. Most importantly, you can make the Secretary happy. If his plan gets traction and he manages to build the reputation of this region, you’ll be thankful to have gotten in his good graces. You need to think beyond the IndieMagie. The competition itself is important, but only as a stepping stone in your career.”

  Ami worked up the nerve to join in Adah’s protest. “There’s no way this works. You heard what Adah said—this flower girl won’t wanna work with us either.”

  “Like you,” Grace said as she fixed a cold stare on each of the girls, “she might not have much of a say in the matter. The ball is already rolling on this, so get used to it. You’re going to take interviews together, meet your fans together, and even do a mission together.”

  “A mission?” Ami complained again. “What’s to stop them from taking out one of us ‘by accident’ during the fight?”

  “What’s to stop us?” Emi said, keeping her eyes set on her plate.

  “All of you are going to play nice,” Grace ordered. “It’s only for a few weeks. Maybe you’ll even learn something from them.”

  Grace returned to slicing up her meal, a clear signal that she wouldn’t be fielding any more questions tonight. Adah took note again of their manager’s hidden power level.

  Had Iris already known about this plan for them to cooperate? That might explain some of what she had said earlier. She hadn’t seemed especially bothered by anything Adah had said, so perhaps what really set her alight was knowing they’d have to put on a friendly face for the fans during this first round. Their teams were being propped up as co-representatives—that was what Iris couldn’t stand.

  If that was the case, this arrangement could be entirely to Sunbright’s benefit.

  “You don’t need to worry about us,” Adah spoke up. “We’ll play nice.”

  She looked at her teammates in turn, trying to reassure them this was in their best interest. Rika was the only one she was sure got the message.

  Grace leaned all the way back in her chair and sighed. “I hope you’re serious. Tomorrow is going to be your first test. The Secretary is bringing our teams in for a photoshoot in the capital tomorrow.”

  “A photoshoot?”

  “We’re turning this competition into a marketing campaign,” Grace said. “We’re going to need some media for it.”

  ☆☆☆

  Adah was sure she had stepped into the wrong room.

  A buzz of activity filled the hotel ballroom. Maybe a dozen people had already set up inside—some huddled in a group talking while others marched throughout the room carrying lighting equipment or set pieces. When Adah looked up, the white ceiling seemed to stretch endlessly upward, blurring into a cloud of light. At each end of the room, a portal opened into another universe.

  At one end, a violet carpet with a gold-and-white crisscross trim led up a set of three short stairs. Atop these stairs sat a stout altar painted black and covered by black candles held in gold candelabras, as well as hefty, old-looking tomes that were surely filled with secrets of dark magic. Rows of bearded irises lined the sides of the carpet, their purple petals hanging below their yellow ones like skirts. Behind the altar, wispy fabric was draped between ornate pillars, as if a kingly spider had made its home there. The whole scene was caught between a battle of violet lights that dyed the scene from above and pure white lights that illuminated from below, ultimately producing an ethereal, dreamlike shimmer.

  At the other end of the room, a far brighter surreality was spread out. Adah peered into the entrance of a mystical ice cave, likely discovered near the top of the tallest mountain in a distant land. Crystals hung from above, pulsing with an alluring aquamarine power. The ground glistened as if the stone floor was freshly wet with the melt of an ancient glacier, except for where jagged stalagmites shot out from below like inverted icicles. Throughout the scene, an uncountable number of tiny white lights emanated a gentle glow.

  In the end, they were only sets for a photoshoot, but Adah didn’t have to try very hard to believe some cosmic artisan had plucked both scenes from another world and dropped them here. This was not at all what she had imagined when Grace had told her about a government-funded photoshoot.

  Grace walked into the room after Adah and, possibly reading that astonishment on her face, explained, “I was serious about us attracting the Secretary’s attention. The region’s committed to this rebrand; they want to call it the ‘Unchained Underground.’ They’re ready to put people and money to work, as you can see.”

  “You said yesterday they’re treating us like an investment,” Adah said. “So if we don’t give them a return on all this, they’ll move on to someone who can, right?”

  Grace had made the situation sound more pleasant than it actually was. In the end, their team was an expendable tool in the plans of other people. The region hadn’t set up this elaborate photoshoot because they believed in the unique potential of Spotlight Sunbright but because they had a goal for the region as a whole. This might have been a sincere effort at cultivating successful magical girls, but if those magical girls didn’t end up successful, it’d be the girls that were tossed aside and not the plan. Regional reputation was the priority.

  Grace shrugged and held out her hands. “That may be true, but they did set all of this up for us. It was your plan to be successful anyway, wasn’t it?”

  Adah looked around the room again. In addition to the two decadent photo stages, a simple set had been arranged against the near wall with a blue backdrop and a couple of lights. She figured that would be used for basic headshots and cutouts. She had to admit whoever organized this wasn’t cutting corners. She gave Grace a shrug back.

  “Good,” Grace said. “I’m going to check in with DreamRise’s manager. You should go introduce yourselves to the lead photographer.”

  Grace gestured to a man a short distance to their right who was looking over the crystalline cave scene with his hands on his hips. She went off in the opposite direction, meeting up with a woman in a black dress that must’ve been DreamRise’s manager. Strangely, the DreamRise members themselves were nowhere to be found.

  With a kernel of anxiety over meeting Iris again lingering in her chest, Adah led her team over toward the man Grace had pointed out. He turned around as the girls approached and held out a hand, which Adah shook.

  “You must be the Spotlight Sunbright girls,” he said, offering his hand to each of them in turn.

  “You recognize us even without our transformations?” Rika asked. “Maybe things are picking up for us.”

  The photographer smiled and held up four fingers. “Sunbright has four, DreamRise has three. But I never forget a face, so I promise I’ll recognize you all the next time we meet. I’m Neil, by the way.”

  The girls introduced themselves—both their actual names and their magical girl identities. Two names per girl seemed like a lot to remember to Adah, especially considering Ami and Emi’s matching sense.

  In fact, when it was their turn to give their names, Emi asked Neil, “What about us? You won’t forget?”

  A pair of mirrored faces stared at him expectantly. Adah lived in the same building as the twins and, if it weren’t for their divergent personalities, she’d probably still get them mixed up.

  “Well,” he said, grinning again in the face of a new challenge, “give me one extra meeting for you two.”

  Ami laughed at that and smacked him on the back while Emi silently shook her head, feigning disappointment. Experiencing their differences firsthand would probably help him remember, Adah figured.

  Neil looked as though he was about to ask them all a question when suddenly the same door Adah and team had entered through swung open once again. Iris walked through first, leading the rest of the DreamRise team with an easy smile on her face. She wore a clay-colored set of shortalls with a plain white t-shirt beneath, looking as effortlessly cute as the last time Adah saw her. The girl who followed behind her, however, brought enough flair for the both of them.

  This new girl had on a black cropped sweatshirt and black jeans so distressed and ripped that Adah wondered if she’d fallen off a motorcycle on her way here. The sweatshirt exposed a dangling silver belly ring, which wasn’t far off in color from her hair. She was blonde, Adah felt, though a blonde so pale it could pass for white. Her bangs were cut neatly across her brow with longer strands draped just along the outer edges of her eyes. She wore her hair shorter on the left side and pinned it behind her ear, while the right side and back flowed in a clean wave down an inch or two below her chin. She’d tugged the sleeves of her sweatshirt halfway up her forearms, revealing a collection of tattoos perhaps too spacious to be considered a sleeve but plentiful enough to tell a story. The tattoos extended to the back of her hands, one of which was covered by some kind of thick-lined magic circle and the other by a series of symbols that Adah couldn’t quite make out.

  She must have been Clair, who went by the identity Sweetdream Soulslip. Adah had researched the rest of the DreamRise team as much as she could the night prior. Clair had been the most difficult to learn anything about, despite her working with the agency the longest. From what Adah could understand, she had basically hung around DreamRise her whole career, cycling through new teammates every year or so but never quitting herself. She was several years older than Adah, meaning it had taken her even longer to catch a break as a magical girl.

  Although Clair had a flashy—or rather, contrarian—appearance for a magical girl, the third and final member of the team was far more unusual. This latest DreamRise team was rounded out by one of the few active magical boys: Ekki, or Fogstorm Knight. He walked inside the meeting hall and immediately surveyed the space with a lazy turn of his head. His eyes paused on Adah, spearing her with the same power as a look from Rika. He passed a quick glance over the rest of the Sunbright team, then turned to look at the extravagant altar set at the end of the hall. Adah swore she saw him mutter some kind of curse.

  Apparently he leaned more towards Iris’s fashion sense, electing to wear some tan chinos and a simple white button up shirt. He had rolled up his sleeves as well, though he had no tattoos to show off, instead only revealing a thin silver chain bracelet Adah almost didn’t notice. Simplicity suited him best anyway. Like Iris, he possessed a beauty that shone the brightest in the absence of any distractions. His facial features were pronounced but not sharp. His hair was tousled but not unkempt. He was about as cute as you could get without straying into pretty boy territory. All that made him the perfect model of a magical boy.

  There weren’t many rules about who could become a magic user. You had to apply for a license, so there were background checks and tests and trainings, but few rules relating to gender, age, or anything like that. The only rule that really mattered was the will of humanity. During the past few decades since the Cruelties and mascots had arrived, humanity had shown a preference toward magic users of a particular type. Specifically, people wanted cute, feminine, fluffy magical girls. Anyone outside that mold would struggle to gain fans.

  With the kind of power magic users wielded, maybe it was easier for the public to trust heroes of that type over something like a rugged and gruff military type. Not to mention, being cute and charming made it easier for magical girls to gain fans through more traditional idol activities as well.

  That said, there was some merit to this “Unchained Underground” idea. The tides of culture were shifting. As magic became more than simply a means to fight Cruelties—as a whole entertainment industry developed around the unique charms of magic users—it was inevitable that the public would seek variety, representation, and even something a little transgressive. An up-and-coming magical boy like Ekki fit right in alongside a bunch of magical girls who had more rough edges than they did charm points.

  After her team filed in, Iris immediately set her sights on Adah and hurried over, stepping with a playful bounce as if the floor beneath her was a trampoline. Her two-tailed cat mascot walked with her again. Adah had wondered about that since their last meeting—it was unusual for mascots to maintain their physical forms so often.

  In the middle of those thoughts, the two teams came face to face.

  “I’m thrilled to be able to meet everyone this time,” Iris said to Adah. Despite her words, she only gave the other girls a cursory glance.

  Adah pictured Grace in her mind and replied, “We’re really looking forward to working together. Right, guys?”

  “Could hardly sleep last night,” Rika said, adding in a yawn for extra effect.

  “A shame this is a photoshoot and not a concert,” Iris said to her. “We aren’t playing to your strengths.”

  Rika gave Iris a look that came as close to piercing her physically as it could. The other girl’s smile didn’t falter, though.

  “Iris,” Ekki called to his captain, “we should go see Julie. She’ll want to know why we’re late.”

  He nodded his head towards their manager—both she and Grace were watching their teams interact. Iris looked over her shoulder at them and giggled like windchimes in a spring breeze.

  “Let’s make time to chat more later, okay?” she said. “If you’re nervous to be in front of the camera, I’m happy to give you pointers.”

  She didn’t wait for any kind of reply before heading off again. She hooked her arm around Ekki’s and led him away, while Clair followed silently behind them. DreamRise departed as quickly as they arrived, leaving Rika’s eyes ablaze and the twins silently concocting some kind of devious conspiracy between themselves. All in all, Adah was willing to chalk their first meeting up as a success.

  Apparently Neil thought so, too.

  “They weren’t kidding when they said your teams were interesting,” he said as the sound of gears turning poured out of his ears. “This shoot is going to be fun.”

  Adah wasn’t lying—she’d make sure their team behaved. They’d put the job first. It just so happened that this job was a rivalry. That’s what the fans and the region’s Secretary wanted, whether they knew it yet or not.

  Two upstart teams from the lamest region in the country, both fighting over the right to be its champion. They already had a natural antagonism, and that was exactly the sort of thing Twilight Heartbreak would lean into.

  When you struck flint against steel, sparks would fly.