As he was about to fade, whispers reached him.
Voices. Unfamiliar, yet speaking of familiar things—the scent of the city he'd lived in his whole life hung in those fragments of sound.
"...about him..." "...Inquisition failed..." "...Devil of Sophia..."
The words came in pieces, blurred and distant. Then suddenly, his ritual flushed with golden light. Somehow, that gold acted as a trigger for the spell, forcing it to complete—as if reality itself believed this was how it should have happened.
Two lights consumed him. Black and golden, refusing to mix like water and oil. But eventually, the ritual forced them together, blending into something new with a tint of blue.
His knees hit stone.
The impact jarred through his bones. Real. Solid. His lungs dragged in air—sharp, cold, alive. His hands pressed flat against rough ground, fingers splaying wide as if to confirm it would hold him.
But relief didn't come.
His chest tightened. His eyes darted left, right, scanning frantically. The cave was small, abandoned. A circle drawn beneath him in ink—he could smell it, mixed with something metallic. Blood? But no red stained the lines.
His hands moved to the circle, tracing the edges. Then to the cave entrance. Back to the walls. Searching. Hunting for something.
His breath came faster.
Where—?
His eyes burned. He blinked hard, but wetness gathered anyway as his hands kept moving, kept searching through the dim space.
He pushed himself up—
"Bill?"
He spun.
His knees nearly gave out. The breath left him all at once as he stared at her.
Lucy.
He dropped to the ground, hands catching himself before he collapsed completely. His shoulders shook.
Then laughter burst from him—manic, breathless, genuine. His smile stretched wide as he tilted his head back.
"How the hell are we alive?"
Lucy's fingers snapped in front of his face. Once. Twice.
"That was my question." Her voice carried confusion, though her expression remained flat.
The laughter died in his throat. Tears still streamed down his face. He thought about reaching for her, pulling her into a hug—but something stopped him. His hand lifted halfway, then fell back to his side.
He moved instead to a stone jutting from the cave wall, lowering himself onto it. The surface was cold and damp, but it would do.
As he settled, he felt it.
Power running through him. Different. A third current alongside the human and mythical energies he'd always carried. This one connected deeply to his human side—and unfortunately, seemed just as restrained by his mythical blood as his human magic was.
His hand went to his hair, fingers raking through the strands. Then to his face, rubbing hard as he sorted through magical theory.
"Miracles happen. They're real—tied to divine power." The words came fast as his hands kept moving, gesturing, pulling at his hair again. "It's based on human belief and the ordered rules of reality. As for why we're alive, it's probably the belief part. I understand how it's magically possible, but..." He grunted, pressing his palms against his eyes. "That's it. I don't know why."
Lucy's head tilted slightly as golden light flickered around her. Her gaze fixed on it with something that might have been anticipation.
"So you're saying for some reason, humans believed we're alive, so divine power made us alive. Power held by deities and Outer Gods."
"Demi-humans can factor into it too." Billy dropped his hands, staring at the cave floor. "Their contribution would be less than a human's because of mythical blood, but it'd still be a factor."
"Why would they care about you anymore though, little foxy?"
Silence.
Billy's jaw worked. His fingers drummed against the stone beneath him.
"And it's not like something similar didn't happen before. It is a big deal to not kill a necromancer. Even as prepared as we were, they failed because we got lucky."
"To be fair, most of their rules were written by fossils before Iris came around. They can't stop rumors like they used to, but how does any of this—" Lucy's teeth ground together, the sound sharp in the quiet cave. She spoke like someone biting down on old wounds.
Billy's face lit up. His posture straightened.
He always loved this—explaining like a teacher proud of a student's curiosity. He leaned forward, hands moving in broad gestures as he launched into it.
"Think of it like this: divine magic is a judge over reality, made manifest by human belief. Mythical is being an outlaw—where the impossible happens and rules are nothing but restraints. Rose magic, on the other hand, is like being a lawyer. You play both sides to make something new."
"So they're used for different things. Shouldn't necromancy be mythical then?"
"Not necessarily." His hands shaped the air between them, building the concept. "If you kill someone using divine magic of death, he dies peacefully. If it's mythical, it's anything but peaceful—his soul is fundamentally destroyed. There's no control to be had with mythical. It's just raw power and the illusion of control. You push things to happen, but that's it. But with mythical, truly nothing is impossible."
"Okay, I think I get it. But shouldn't there be four?"
Billy's fingers steepled together as he drew a breath, settling into lecture mode.
"Yes and no. Human and Rose magic are like branches of magic, yet in a way they're just very special variations of mythical and divine. Human magic is power given by the Outer God of Magic to humanity. Honestly, human magic is weird." He waved one hand in a circular motion, as if trying to grasp something intangible. "It's the magic of dreams. If divine is how humans believe reality should work, then human magic is how they want it to be. The biggest difference in practice is that human magic is flashy and beautiful, can be surprisingly powerful, and only needs talent and belief of the holder."
His other hand joined in, gestures growing more animated. "Divine—with the exception of Outer Gods—can't rely on just the caster, but is way more sustainable. Both are deeply tied to humanity and draw power from humans. It's just that human magic is easier to use."
The lecture had taken longer than expected. Billy's shoulders had hunched forward slightly as he explained, his voice carrying that familiar note of someone lost in their own expertise.
Lucy's lips moved, barely audible. "So why couldn't I use human magic? I was dreamy..."
Billy's breath caught. His fingers curled against his knee.
"You lacked talent," he muttered, the words forced out.
Her glare cut toward him—half-hearted, but present.
"I know, foxy. No need to rub it in. Just venting."
Billy's hand went up in apology, palm out. "Sorry. Back on track." He straightened again, energy returning. "That only leaves Rose magic, which isn't magic—just technically a massive library of spells and ideas made by one of the best magicians and most powerful, gorgeous goddess this world has—" He caught himself, his pace quickening as he veered away from the topic. "Anyway, very important."
"Just say she named the damn thing after herself and get to the point. What's so special about it that you're so opposed?"
Billy stood, pacing now. His hands cut through the air as he spoke.
"You know mythical creatures, humans, and Outer Gods never got along. Their magic doesn't mix well. That shouldn't be an issue—the spell needs either human power, divine or otherwise, or mythical magic needs power coursing through their blood to cast it. Rose magic is spells that simply use both." He turned back to face her. "For demi-humans—humans with mythical blood from their ancestors—not having this magic was extremely restraining. You need to understand: putting all your skill in one area is way better than dividing it. Rose magic basically forced a new branch to appear just for demi-humans who are talented at magic. It's really made for demi-humans."
His pacing slowed. "Unless you're a demi-human with no talent for human magic to begin with, but then you'd only be casting mythical anyway. Rose magic is only useful to demi-humans who have their human magic restrained by their blood—it actually makes them benefit from having mythical blood rather than being restrained by it."
Lucy's hand went to her temple, rubbing. Her eyes had glazed slightly.
She sighed, the sound cutting through his explanation.
"So can I use magic? Get to the point." She no longer seemed willing to indulge him.
Billy stopped mid-step. His shoulders dropped slightly, the fire in his voice dimming.
"Yes, but only divine. Try thinking how sunlight feels—natural, like it's always there. Then say 'light,' like I told you."
"Light." The word came out with the excitement of a small child.
Slowly, the whole area glowed golden. The spell was there—very simple, but there.
Billy paused.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her. She'd just cast the spell—the light was right there, illuminating the cave walls—but he couldn't feel any divine magic from her. None at all.
His hand moved unconsciously to his chest, fingers pressing against his sternum as if checking his own magical senses.
She cast the spell. The light was real.
But there was nothing. No trace of power from her.
He swallowed hard. Haven't recovered yet, he told himself, fingers tightening against his chest. That's all.
"So what does it feel like to have magic?" Her eyes fixed on the golden light around her, wide with fascination. Her fingers reached out, almost touching the glow.
"Don't get attached." His voice came out flat. Hollow. "It'll fade with time."
"Explain." Her hand dropped. Her tone with it.
Billy's shoulders sagged. His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing as he turned away slightly.
"Deities—or as you'd call them, Lord Protectors—their divine power fades if their followers don't worship. Except for Outer Gods. We don't have followers."
"So get followers then."
His head snapped up. "The Inquisition is already hunting us. And in Sophia—city of Outer Gods—worship of anyone but their Apostles?" He stood, pacing now. His hands moved in sharp, cutting gestures. "It's bad news. It makes everything we've done up to this point look like child's play. A cult, Lucy. A cult. This is madness. Even for us. Sophia doesn't like sharing."
"Think of the donations." Her voice pressed forward, insistent. "Think of the possibilities with this kind of power. What could you achieve?"
The sound of coins echoed in his head.
Billy's hand froze mid-gesture. His mouth opened, then closed. His fingers curled slowly into a fist at his side. When he spoke again, his voice had weakened, the strength bleeding out of it.
"I..."
He stared at the cave floor, jaw tight, saying nothing