Hedi curled her small body into the wooden chair like a folded leaf, shut her eyes, and sent her mind fishing for stored clues in a dim lake. The outside sounds thinned like mist, until only rain tapped the window lattice in tiny variations, small dragonflies darting near and far. The quiet room drank the world’s breath like soil after storm, and Hedi, without thinking, sipped the boundless tide of thoughts. The drip and patter matched her thinking like two strings tuned to one note.

“Dark Realm Erosion is a peculiar energy wave,” Hedi murmured, her voice a moth in rain. “To wake the Dark Realm, you need a wave with a matching structure, like a key cut to a lock. The gas I saw drifting skyward was the wave itself, rising like pale smoke. It wakes the Dark Realm slowly— like chili on the tongue.”

Selina stepped forward, brushed a strand from Hedi’s lip like lifting wet silk, and asked in a soft breeze of a voice, “You mean the Dark Realm is alive?”

“Maybe,” she said, a pebble dropping into a pond.

“Possibly... I think you asked me before,” Selina said, eyes flicking like minnows.

Hedi blinked her tired amber eyes, lips pursed like a pouty petal. “I forgot to confirm it with Stratford. Ask her, and the fog would clear.”

“If you remember the number,” the Holy Maiden said, her tone cool as shade, “you can use the phone in the room.”

“Stratford is dead,” Hedi said, flat as stone.

“Ah... sorry,” the Holy Maiden whispered, a feather wet with rain.

Hedi shook her head and offered the Holy Maiden a small comfort like a handkerchief. “No need to be sorry. I couldn’t wait for her to die.”

“She treated you poorly?” the Holy Maiden asked, voice thin as a reed.

Before Hedi could answer, Selina cut in like a gust slamming a door. “Don’t talk to the Professor!”

“I asked Melvina,” the Holy Maiden said, her gaze a bright blade. “What’s it to you?”

“We’re lovers!” Selina snapped, a spark in dry grass.

“Take that away, and you and Melvina are sky and earth,” the Holy Maiden shot back, thunder under silk.

“Oww!” Hedi clapped her hands to her ears like shells. “Stop it!”

The Holy Maiden turned her head, eyes on the rain-smeared world, and spoke like lifting a corner of a curtain. “You get that jealous over one line. Touch her cheek, and you’ll jump from the roof.”

Selina stomped, a wave slapping a pier, her feelings sloshing in the glass.

“Can you two calm down?” Hedi rolled her eyes like slow marbles and looked from Selina to the Holy Maiden. “We have urgent business breathing down our necks.”

The Holy Maiden fell silent, a shadow under eaves.

Selina turned away, stubborn as a rooted stump.

Hedi sighed, the sound a warm cloud. She took in their split reactions, pressed one hand to her forehead like a lid on a boiling pot, and used the other to brace her waist like a beam.

“Does this arguing help?” Her tone sagged with fatigue like wet cloth. “About the ‘impostor,’ I already covered it for you. And Selina’s dependence on me isn’t simple tagalong stuff— it’s more twist than tail. Your problem is you won’t yield, both of you, two rams on one bridge. From now on, no more ‘impostor,’ no more ‘tagalong.’”

“Hear that?” the Holy Maiden looked at Selina, eyes cold as rainwater. “Stop calling me an impostor.”

“You are an impostor!” Selina shot back, a thorn thrown quick.

“Tagalong!” the Holy Maiden hissed, a gnat in the ear.

Hedi’s body went slack, as if someone yanked the plug in her back and let the air flee like a popped bellows. The rising quarrel turned into a gray giant ape and clubbed the back of her head, stars bursting like fireflies. Dizzy with anger, near fainting, she still forced herself to stand, slipped quiet as a cat toward the door. Selina’s voice rose behind her like a tugging rope, asking where she was going. Hedi let the words roll cold from her teeth like sleet. “For a rope. To strangle you both.”

“It’s your fault!” the Holy Maiden snapped, her words a whip. “Little tagalong, you upset Melvina!”

“You started it!” Selina flared, a spark turned flame. “You fake Holy Maiden!”

Outside the door, Hedi still caught the muffled racket like bees in a jar. But once she left that whirlpool of noise, real air flooded her lungs like a clear wind. She recalled Mandele and Clara’s phone call, and she shuffled toward the police station, step by step, like wading a shallow stream.

The downpour washed Naghtown clean, the streets a blurred watercolor. Houses lined up like low hills, their bodies hidden by the rain’s shadow. The ground drank too much and breathed steam in slow curls. Under an eave perched a bright red little bird, wings flicking like sparks, unsure between flight and shelter. By its feathers, it looked like the very bird Cheryl had chased, a dot of flame in the wet.

Umbrella in hand, Hedi slipped past the hesitating red bird like a passing cloud. She replayed the fight in her head, the Holy Maiden’s nature, brows, and tone mirror-bright with Cheryl’s shadow. Yet that wasn’t proof, not a stone you could hold; she needed a decisive hinge. The Dark Realm came first, a bell ringing in the rain.

Hedi gathered her scattered thoughts like stray threads and pushed the police station door, hinges creaking like an old gate, and stepped inside.

An officer with a folder halted mid-step, his gaze lifting like a drawn blade. “What do you need?” he asked, wary as a cat. He was tall for a man, narrow monolid eyes like slits of winter sun, and his only flaw was his hair, dry grass in a wind, two days unwashed.

“I want to call the Dark Realm Research Institute,” Hedi said as she folded her umbrella like a closing wing. “But I don’t know the number.”

He shut the folder, let his glance skim his busy colleagues like a swallow over water, then pinned Hedi with it, curious as a needle. “What exactly do you want to discuss?”

“Can I say it?” Hedi scraped the mud from her shoe edge like peeling bark. “It should be fine. If Rex knows, you must know.”

“You mean Chief Mandele?” he asked, the name like a badge.

“Yes,” she said, quick as a nod.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, a small puff of steam. “You said Rex, and it threw me for a beat.”

Hedi froze, her mind catching like a wheel in muck. The quarrel had scrambled names in her head. She steered back. “We’ve drifted.”

“You want to call the Dark Realm Research Institute. Mind telling me what about?” he asked, voice smooth as a stone.

Hedi gave a polite smile, light as a fan. “The Dark Realm. Didn’t Mandele tell you?”

“The Chief did tell us that, but how would he put that—” he began, words tiptoeing.

“Don’t take me for a civilian,” Hedi cut in, her hand lifting like a gate. “I’m from the Sacred Cathedral.”

“You do magic, so you’re actually a nun?” he asked, a brow arched like a bow.

“Uh... I’m a Professor of Magic... temporarily staying at the Cathedral,” she said, the words a shy candle.

He paused a beat, then asked with care like stepping on thin ice. “Do you have authorization for this kind of inquiry?”

Bafflement rose in Hedi like steam. “A citizen doesn’t know a government number, comes here to ask, and needs permission first? You mean if I lack ‘authorization,’ you won’t give me the number?”

“That’s not what I mean,” he said, palms open like empty plates.

Hedi smiled again, courteous as rain on moss. “Please give me the Dark Realm Research Institute’s number.”

“Can you wait until Chief Mandele comes back?” he asked, the suggestion soft as wool.

“If he knew I came for a number and you told me to sit and wait, he’d blow up like thunder,” Hedi said. “You know he curses when he’s mad.”

“I mean—” he began, words snagging like twine.

“Give me a number,” Hedi said, the line a knife. “What can I do with it, flatten the Institute or take it hostage?”

He scratched his neck, embarrassed, fingers raking dry leaves. “I just don’t understand your ties to the Cathedral and Chief Mandele. You know about the Dark Realm— the Chief would never leak it. It sparks panic.”

“He told me,” Hedi said, cool as rain on stone.

“Chief Mandele hates magic,” the officer said, his tone a stiff plank. “And you’re at the center of a magic incident—”

Hedi stamped hard, a crack of thunder on the floor, and roared, “Then forget it! Do me a favor and dial the Dark Realm Research Institute for me! I’ll make the call here! Enough dithering! I’ve been holding my breath since I left the Cathedral!”