All that posing and measuring at Lina’s studio had tired Adah out. Even though she had mostly been standing still, being under the designer’s focused gaze was exhausting in its own way. After showering that night, she had climbed into bed and was just about ready to fall asleep when Izzy materialized at the foot of her mattress.

  He took one look at her groggy face and said, “Did I interrupt a nap?”

  “Define ‘interrupt,’” she groaned. “I didn’t even get started.”

  “Perfect,” he said, then looked at her again. “Or not?”

  As much as she wanted to pass out on the spot, Adah knew it was better to hear him out sooner rather than later. Whatever he had been discussing with the other mascots earlier had him stressed, which meant she needed to know about it. Especially because it involved her.

  Besides, they were partners.

  “Now is fine,” she said, pushing herself upright to sit with her back against the wall. “Mascots. Attention. Maybe good, maybe bad. I think that’s where we left off.”

  “At this point in time,” Izzy said, “I feel confident categorizing it as bad.”

  Wonderful.

  “What do I need to know?” she asked.

  “You may recall the one you know as Lesh admitted that our kind does not fully comprehend humanity’s use of magic,” Izzy said. “Our kind is capable of imposing order upon magic essence, of altering its fundamental properties to achieve particular results. The essence we use to travel between worlds has been altered in a different way than that which we use to sustain our physical forms. Once the essence has been altered in such a way, we can make use of it for that purpose and only for that purpose, like a machine dedicated to performing one action.”

  That tracked with what Adah knew already. She’d always thought of it as “programming” the essence, but the end result was the same in either analogy. The exact method mascots used to alter magic essence remained a mystery to her, but it likely wasn’t something she could understand at this point anyway. Even if she understood the basic idea behind splitting an atom, she wouldn’t be able to follow along at the granular level of that kind of human science either. She just didn’t know enough.

  “When we first connected with humanity,” Izzy continued, “we believed spells functioned in a similar manner. Our process for altering essence for spellcasting was similar, so we assumed humanity’s usage of essence only differed in the magnitude of their ability to catalyze it.”

  “That’s something I’m still confused about,” Adah stopped him there. “If it’s the same essence you use and the same process for altering it, why is there such a gap in the power we get out of it? You can say ‘the will of humanity’ or whatever, but that doesn’t explain it. What’s the reason? Why can’t mascots use magic to fight Cruelties on their own?”

  Izzy shook his head and said, “You are asking two different questions with two different answers. First, the reason our kind cannot fight the Cruelties is the same reason they do not fight us. Our own essence is incapable of reaching this plane of reality. Even what you see me as now is but an image of convenience. I have built this form as you might build a figure from clay. I can manipulate it and act through it, but my own essence is inaccessible to any being that may seek to harm me. Similarly, I cannot catalyze essence within this form. I, and all my kind, can only pass it along to those who can: humans.”

  “Mascots and Cruelties can’t attack each other?” Adah asked. “So, when you say you’re at war with them…”

  “In practice, it is a proxy war,” Izzy said. “The Cruelties ravage one world after another in their hunt for essence, pillaging each world of all life. When one world is left barren, they move to the next. For my kind, who rely on the natural cycles of life to provide essence, this process of laying waste to worlds will eventually become an existential threat. We may not be hunted, but we will be starved. Thus far, humanity is the only race we have encountered on any world that is capable of catalyzing essence themselves. That is why our kind have allied with humanity, so that we may work together to stop the Cruelties. For the survival of both our kinds.”

  “Despite being allies, you’ve never explained any of this to me until now,” Adah said, staring into Izzy’s eyes. Like usual, it was hard to see what kind of emotion lay within them.

  “Explaining such things is not always a decision left up to me,” Izzy said. “At other times, I saw no reason to ramble about the minute details. What would the nature of my physical form have meant to you a year ago? Or four?”

  He had a point about the little details. As a brand new magical girl, Adah wouldn’t have cared to hear about any of that.

  Some of what she had learned recently didn’t count as “little,” though. Like humanoids coming through portals. Just how much else was being hidden behind like that? And if the decision wasn’t up to Izzy, who was making that decision?

  “To return to your original questions,” Izzy continued, “Humanity’s advanced ability to catalyze essence is a matter we have only managed to interpret and theorize on thus far. As you know, each spell is created with a particular purpose in mind. To alter the function of the spell, as I have done for your [Sparkling Strike], it should be necessary to augment the engraving of any essence dedicated to that spell. Yet, humanity has proved capable of bypassing the limits of their spells.”

  “Like Ami’s shield,” Adah said. “The spell wasn’t created with the idea of catching other spells inside of it, but she figured out how to do it.”

  Izzy nodded and said, “That is one example, yes. For humanity, magic seems to be a tool that they can wield and adapt for their needs. For my kind, it is more like a rigid system that binds us. We work within narrow constraints and—even after witnessing humanity’s creativity—have found no way to bend the system to our will. Our use of essence allows performs its function along the lines of a strict definition. What humanity is capable of is unexplainable to us. Therefore, I cannot give you a more thorough answer to your question. Some among my kind hope you yourself may provide us the answer.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Huh? Why would I be able to answer a question that I just asked you?”

  “Not answer, but provide an answer.”

  Although he wasn’t as archaic as a mascot like Lesh, Izzy’s manner of speaking could still be hard to decipher. He was never in a rush to make his point, either. Adah squinted at him to make her confusion more apparent.

  “This is the reason you have drawn attention from certain members of my kind,” Izzy explained. “Although, you are not alone in this—many humans have stood out as potential research subjects.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  The mascots may not have shown up in UFOs, but they were technically still aliens. Adah wasn’t interested in dissection or any other experiments they had in mind.

  “They are not interested in making you a lab rat,” Izzy assured her. “They merely feel that monitoring you—and requesting certain actions of you—may reveal more about humanity’s relationship with magic essence.”

  “And what’s so special about me?” Adah asked.

  “The more extreme the counterexample, the more illuminating the lesson,” Izzy said. “The flexibility of Ami’s shield is a novelty, but your weapon has shattered our expectations. Though the scythe was of our own design, its function has exceeded anything we intended. I understand you find this phrase troublesome, but the weapon responds more to the will of humanity than anything we have observed before. Specifically, it responds to your will with seemingly little restriction.”

  That conclusion matched her own suspicions about Beleth’s Bloodletter. All of Adah’s teammates could alter the function of their weapons to some degree, but their flexibility was like cycling through preset options. The scythe was more freeform.

  Adah had assumed that unbounded potential was intentional, but Izzy made it sound like the mascots had designed the weapon to function more like her teammates’ did.

  “As such,” Izzy said, “some among my kind wish to instruct you to use your weapon in certain ways. They hope that by collecting enough data, they may discover a means through which we can catalyze essence with the same efficiency and flexibility as humanity.”

  “You keep saying ‘some’ of your kind,” Adah said. “Does that mean other mascots are opposed to that idea?”

  Izzy paused and untucked his hooves, rearranging his body into a new sitting position. Despite this pig form being only a representation of him, it seemed he could still feel physical sensations like discomfort. Apparently Rika’s mascot Lumi claimed to enjoy the warmth of his form’s fur, so it was a common theme.

  “Others feel it is an inappropriate request to make,” Izzy said, “with ramifications we do not yet understand. I am among those who prefer a cautious approach. Humanity’s focus should be on defeating the Cruelties, not helping us develop a project that could very well blow up in our faces. We will learn more about the weapon through your continued use of it; experimentation is unnecessary at this point.”

  “Basically,” Adah said, “some mascots want to limit test the scythe to help them create something. A weapon of their own or some new way of processing essence? But you and some other mascots are telling them to leave me alone. That’s what you were busy with earlier today, right?”

  “That is the simplest way to think of the situation,” Izzy confirmed. “We find ourselves divided once again. Our kind made one such mistake in the past, and I had believed we had learned from it. I am discovering that not all of us did.”

  He looked away from Adah now, and for once she could read clearly his feelings. She reached out to pet his head, which he accepted. His coarse hairs bristled her palm, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

  “Is this the same mistake you mentioned when we met Feena?” she asked.

  “Indeed,” Izzy answered, his voice as calm as ever. “To understand it, you must understand the nature of our kind. We depend on magic essence for every facet of life and prosperity. Essence provides our energy, our conveniences, and the very systems that allow our society to function.”

  “Like what food is to humans,” Adah said.

  “Even more essential,” Izzy said. “It is difficult to explain. The plane we live on is fundamentally different than yours at the physical level. It does not consist of matter as you understand it, nor does it feature light that you could perceive. Perhaps you could think of essence as both our fuel and the mechanism by which we utilize that fuel.”

  Adah was having a hard time thinking like that, but that wasn’t her main concern.

  “Let’s say it’s your food, air, oil, everything then,” she said. “I understand it enough, I think. So your mistake had something to do with magic essence?”

  “In a sense,” Izzy said. “It revolved around our relationship with essence. Among our kind, there are those of us who are more proficient at processing essence. In many cases, they are highly efficient at altering it for a certain need—transportation, for example. There are also those of us who are less efficient, or perhaps incapable of altering it for a particular need at all. As such, they have to rely on the work of others and contribute less processed essence. Over time, this drove a wedge between the two groups. I do not like to think of us as such a self-centered race, but you have to understand the importance of essence to our society. It determines everything.”

  “It’s easier to understand than you think,” Adah said. “I guess human instincts and mascot instincts aren’t so different. Maybe that’s why we make such good partners?”

  “Perhaps, though I am sorry our races share that quality.”

  Adah merely shrugged. It had been years since she’d last thought of mascots as transcendent aliens, immune from emotions or desires. Izzy’s stubbornness quickly shattered any illusions her childhood self had dreamed up. Knowing just how similar to humans they were made understanding them and their problems easier.

  “So, one group starts looking down on the other or seeing the other as a burden, right?” she had a guess at what came next in Izzy’s story. “Then you start fighting between yourselves?”

  “Nothing in the way of direct violence,” Izzy said. “Those of us who possessed a greater aptitude for processing essence held it as a point of pride. We excluded the others from our plans—some silly, some serious—which only worsened the divide in our abilities and our affinities.”

  “‘Those of us?’” Adah repeated. “Do you mean you were one of the ones doing the excluding?”

  “That is correct,” he said, looking away from her once more. “The names we go by are one way to tell. Izrashell, Lumidriel, and so on. We invented a pattern—a code of sorts—for how we identified ourselves. This was one of the silly ways in which we distinguished ourselves. Other acts were crueler, perhaps even destructive. If we devised a new function for essence, we would keep that knowledge to ourselves and leave the others to make do without.”

  Izzy gave a shake of his head to tell Adah he had had enough of her petting for now. She placed her hands in her lap instead and watched him as he replayed memories of his past.

  “This was millennia ago now,” he said after a pause. “I have always regretted my participation in such a mistake, but had at least hoped it would serve as an eternal lesson to our kind. The prosperity we have seen since working to reverse that divide should have been all the proof we needed. Unfortunately, we are proving ourselves to be even more fallible than I thought.”

  “A disagreement over how to research magic essence isn’t quite the same thing, is it?” Adah asked. “What you were describing just now sounded more like discrimination. Disagreeing with each other isn’t a mistake on its own.”

  “Our relationship with humanity is a double-edged sword,” Izzy said. “It allows us to fight against the Cruelties, yet it also reinforces some of our most foolhardy beliefs.”

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “Humanity’s ability to catalyze essence has convinced some of my kind that our original mistake was no mistake at all. They believe those of us who sought to distinguish ourselves are, in fact, special. That we share humanity’s ability, if only we knew how to unlock it within ourselves. At the same time…”

  “They think the mascots you excluded don’t,” Adah finished for him. “And they want me to help them prove it.”