Fermina had not graced us with her presence until the evening prayer, where she was already ensconced in her place as Rascal and I arrived, regrettably late. Our exchange of words, fleeting and hurried, occurred just before the ceremony commenced, though it seemed—perhaps mistakenly—that Fermina preferred it so.

  The sun’s prayer, as per usual, was led by my sister, the highest representative of the Sisters of Light within the mansion’s hallowed halls. Midway through the prayer Princess and I shifted control of our shared vessel. In a fit of inspiration, Princess seized the moment to sing with a sweetness and skill meant to dazzle, a deliberate display of her prowess to her elder sister. Her intent did not go unnoticed.

  Afterward, Princess earnestly sought a private audience with Fermina, yet the latter mouthed only a curt, “Whatever you can say in front of me, you should be able to say in front of Riatna.” I feared that Princess might succumb to the perilous temptation of confessing all to her, but to my surprise, she held firm, and so the sisters retreated to their quarters in a silence so frigid that even Rascal instinctively dared not shatter it.

  Without my input, Princess produced parchment and ink, pretending to compose a letter, all while enduring Fermina’s relentless prodding—barely veiled accusations that stirred even poor Rascal’s suspicions.

  “So you are back to being right-handed?” Fermina observed dryly as we furiously scribbled, scratching out words here and there but ultimately crafting a perfectly coherent argument. “I am not appreciating your silence right now. I demand an explanation of what you said earlier.”

  “J-just a moment, dear sister, please!” Princess beseeched with a higher pitch than usual, also highlighting calling Fermina ‘sister’.

  After a brief struggle to find the right words, Princess hastily handed the paper to Fermina, who received it with a disapproving glance. Meanwhile, a bewildered Rascal sat on her bed, clearly puzzled by the unfolding scene.

  The letter read as such:

  ‘I am Aufelia, your sister; I swear it to you on everything we both hold dear. I can also assure you, and please do not be alarmed, but Dubart, our Master, is not exactly dead. I will explain everything in time, and I would be so glad to, but you must understand that this is very dangerous information. Dubart used theurgy; he did not mean for this to happen, but we both know it doesn’t matter. I would be burned at the stake, my dear sister. The Sisters of Light would call it possession by an evil spirit, but that is not the only danger I face or the only thing I fear. If I were to drag you or my dear Riatna into this and bring you under suspicion, I would rather end my life right now by my hand. I am begging you, Fermina, an audience! Please!!’

  Fermina raised her eyes to us once she finished reading, still standing before us. For the first time since dusk, she relaxed her facial structure noticeably, so much, in fact, that Rascal felt confident to ask:

  “Is everything alright? Did something happen? Are we in trouble?”

  Fermina sighed heavily. Eyes closed, she gave the matter some thought. She tore the letter apart several times, then burned the rest of the paper with one lit candle in the room. No evidence but ashes remained of what Princess had revealed, which at least signaled that the gravity of the situation was understood.

  “Everything is… fine,” Fermina added after a pause. “Aufelia was merely passing me a message from Master Archiments,” she lied for us. “It is nothing you have to concern yourself with. Now, if you excuse me, after the earlier episode, I think a bath would make me feel better.”

  “Are you sure?” Rascal questioned, concerned. “W-what if you faint again, and you’re in the bathtub, all by yourself?”

  “That is true, Riatna,” Fermina smiled, glad her words worked so well. I was also impressed. “Aufelia, would you mind accompanying me? Just to be safe.” It had now been Rascal’s idea.

  We excused ourselves from the room under that pretense. We even grabbed our bathrobes and utensils from the drawers.

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  We claimed one of the washrooms, yet no servants were summoned to fill the tubs or warm the water. The room held only Fermina—arms crossed, eyes burning with unspoken demands for clarification.

  “This must be all so strange to you…” Princess began, purposefully leaving a pause to invite an interruption.

  Fermina did not respond to the prompt, at least not at first. She merely pressed with a disinterested, “Mm-hmm.”

  “I suppose I should start with the most important thing. Dubart is… with us. Right now. Inside me, in a way that is hard to understand.”

  “So you are saying this is an evil spirit possessing you,” Fermina interjected, her tone so severe that, for a brief instant, even I believed she had contemplated the stake and the purifying flames.

  “No! Dubart is not an evil spirit. He’s… it’s hard to explain! He controls my body sometimes; I control it the rest of the time. We can always hear what the other one thinks or says inside of ourselves. But the painting, the Artalar you saw him use, and some other stuff… that was Dubart you saw, moving my body.”

  “I admit that it’s hard to deny what I have seen and noticed in the last few days so far. And why are you telling me just now?”

  “Dubart doesn’t really know what went wrong with the theurgy thing he was doing, but he’s working on it. He’s kept a lot hidden from us and can use real arcana, not just burn some paper. He fought an actual magian, you know? That thing that happened at Bernan, it’s nothing like what I told everyone, including you. T-there were, like, people flying, propelled by invisible forces, huge stones moving by themselves, Dubart and that evil magian blasting each other’s minds with weird words… t-the point is, Dubart is really a magian, and is actually trying to solve all of this.”

  Though Princess’s recollections of that fateful encounter were muddled, I could see that the display had left a profound impression on her. To call me a magian was far from the truth. I was closer to claiming the throne of Irghumin than earning the title of a practitioner of the Artan Legacy. My dabblings in Artalar were like a child paddling in a pond while dreaming of braving the vast, storm-laden ocean.

  Princess had avoided discussing the event, perhaps due to the embarrassment of fleeing unclothed, and I had respected her reticence. Yet I now realized I should have better explained the reality of our situation. I did not want her to place unwarranted confidence in me; we had been fortunate to escape Chelyo with our lives and minds intact.

  Staring at the floor exclusively, Fermina slowly paced around the room in circles, arms still crossed. We did not say a word; digesting all this must have been difficult, perhaps even too much to ask.

  “Let me try to understand; Master Dubart was using dark arcana the night he died, only that he did not actually die,” she alluded to my words just before she had fainted. “He did… something, and now he’s inside your body, and he even can see and hear everything we are doing right this moment.”

  “Correct. I brought a mirror; if I can see my reflection, we can hear each other.”

  “And that explains why you have been carrying one of those everywhere, I suppose,” Fermina revealed to have noticed. “I was worried you were becoming vain.” Becoming? This was the Princess we were talking about! “It still doesn’t answer my question, Aufelia. Why now? Why did you not tell me this yesterday, the day before, or the day before? It’s been seven entire days I thought him dead!”

  “I wanted to! I-it was Dubart!” she shamelessly blamed me. “He said he had this under control and that he only needed some time, a-and that he didn’t want to endanger you or Riatna. Also… I did not think you’d believe me until I knew Dubart could use the Artan Legacy and paint. It’s a little scary, but I am so happy and so relieved that we are telling you this.”

  “I am disappointed in you. You should have trusted me,” Fermina sadly gazed at us as she said, and for a moment, I was not entirely sure if she was addressing Princess.

  “I should have, yes. I am sorry it took me this long to realize,” but Princess certainly did not think so.

  “What is more, if what you are saying is true, then… Aufelia, you have been allowing a man to enter our room, to live with us, t-to… you have allowed him to pretend it was you. We should have known so we could have been more… careful! How could you not have told your sisters?”

  “Oh! Don’t worry about that. I have been careful,” Princess immediately stated, perhaps because I was so vehemently defending my honor inside of her, shouting that we had absolutely respected Fermina’s privacy. “He has not seen so much as an ankle from you. I am sure. Whenever you were changing, I turned away.”

  “And how about yourself and Riatna?” Fermina followed like she already knew the answer.

  “Well…” Princess needed not finish. Fermina sighed deeply.

  “I suppose it may be better we don’t tell poor Riatna if only to spare her feelings. All the same, modesty or dignity is not something we should compromise regardless of Master Dubart’s… condition. We must discuss how careless you’ve been, but I guess there are more important matters for now.”

  “It will all make sense, I promise,” Princess compromised, chirpy and eager. “It will be easier if we start from the beginning. I don’t understand what Dubart was doing with arcana, so you will have to ask him. He’ll be back in the morning. Let me explain.”

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