I closed the door for a few seconds, then opened it again in the same spot. I wanted to make sure that the wicked lich was dead. I don't have tornadoes to drop a house, but this is a good substitute. I rested in the void for a few seconds. I stepped back out into the shop again, and found devastation.

  Note for the future: setting off three singularity-shockwaves simultaneously has a disproportionately strong effect. The top floor of the building was just gone, and the wood-plank floor was spread all over the ground floor of the first story. The air had this ringing silence to it, like absolutely everything had stopped in the wake of some terrible bomb going off. Which, you know, fair.

  The roof was missing, probably reduced to toothpicks about a mile in the air right now. No wall up here, I could see all across the frozen, shell-shocked city. The stairs were solid to hold weight, secured to the support beams, and well away from the blast. They stood lonely vigil, and around them a drop back to the ground, the building was a ruin.

  And then noise started, shouting, crashing, pounding feet. Everything that had been within a dozen yards of the blast was absolutely destroyed, reduced to powder. So, you know, fuck that guy right? They're never gonna find any piece of his body. When the void-singularity is running, I think it's running at my Strength score of 4. But when I shut it off, it's some kind of divide-by-zero attack that throws all that stored Strength-4 violence right back a second time, stacked into a single microsecond. This goddess handed me the deadliest weapon I've ever seen in this game, if I use it right.

  In a month, I'll come back for the Curmudgeon, and let Kralcit know that family is off-limits. I want her to understand that I know how to hurt her, and where, and when. Sending a message is an exercise in precision and follow-through.

  But now, I was tired. Not just sleep-deprived, exhausted and out of fuel, I'm also just an emotional wreck. I've been running myself mentally, physically, emotionally and magically at full throttle for a while now.

  The last couple hours have been really intense, and I'm apparently still recovering from being almost completely destroyed by my own spells. Also, none of these actions have been plot-generated, so I'm out of Stamina for the day. I felt washed out and washed up, and I stepped into my portal and came out in Farfield. I moved to a bench and sat down. That's enough lich-store for now.

  I let my head hang down, elbows on my knees. What a fucking day. The things I do. If I don't get these conspirators to back off, they're going to kill my family, and the story doesn't start. Bad enough that the library's destroyed, gods know how much progress we lost with that. How the hell am I supposed to make up for a loss like that? I'm going to have to take drastic measures to compensate.

  If some assassin or arson or sabotage or accident kills Nathan, this is all over. If they kill Father, Nathan will step into the dukedom instead of going to Academy. And this is all over. If Mother dies?... that wouldn't necessarily guarantee that Nathan doesn't go to Academy, but for damn sure it would change too many things, and this is all over.

  So, yes, I am ready to go scorched-earth on the bad guys, right up to the point of disturbing the story myself.

  "Hey, kid, you can't sit here all day," said a voice at my side. Town guard.

  "Right, yes," I said, and pulled myself to my feet. "Could you help me? I've no idea which store Nathan went to."

  "Who's Nathan?"

  "Nathan Harigold?" I prompted, looking up at him. "Son of the liege lord the duke?"

  "Whatta you want with the duke's son?" the guard asked, suspicious now, changing his stance. That stance was probably something significant, but it's out of my wheelhouse. Any swordsman should probably know if he was about to attack me, hug me or run away from me. But they get taught that stuff, and I get taught the clarinet.

  I chuckled. "He's my brother. I need to let him know I'm alive."

  The guard snorted. "Sure. The duke had a daughter I've never heard of? Or we get a new duke I've never heard of?"

  They seriously do not recognize me.

  "It's Natalie, his twin sister," I said. "Look past the colors for a moment, okay? I got hit with a curse a few days ago and it bleached my hair. Same nose. Same chin. Same eyes. Help me find my brother."

  He was still suspicious. "The daughter's supposed to be a sorceress. She wouldn't need my help finding her brother." I've officially stopped liking his tone.

  "Whatever. I'll find him myself then," I said, and turned to walk. Gravel scrunched under my boots.

  A hand closed on my shoulder. "Wait a minute. I think you should answer some questions first." His grip tightened, and the threat was clearly transmitted. I almost did something drastic.

  I'd killed like thirty people today. You know how small the difference is between thirty and thirty-one? Nobody has laid hands on me with intent to restrain since- oh, right, Yheta. Actually, he does it rather a lot. It's annoying then too. I almost crumpled the guard in a quick flash of anger, but I instead flushed more steel into my mind. Steel is steady. Strong, but not impulsive.

  I sighed. "You told me to leave. You told me to find him. Now I'm going to find him. Do you have a plan here or are you just doing the opposite of what I'm doing because this is some kind of game?"

  He pulled, and I rolled into it, turning and taking his momentum for my own. I punched my fist out, and chainmail jingled on impact. I don't know any damn thing at all about swordplay, spear-fighting or crossbows. But anyone can punch. And when I'm channeling steel I get real good at it.

  He tumbled back, flopping clumsily, and skidded to a stop. I bent down with a growl and I grabbed his spear, broke it over my knee. "Tell everyone what happens when you put your hands on the duke's daughter!" And I stormed off. This was not the diplomatic way for sure but I was actually pissed off now, and way too tired to be doing things the right way.

  Fuck, all I wanted was directions. That shouldn't have been hard! Now I would have to do this myself.

  I started a spell. My fingers whirled through the runes, shaping thought and essence into power. Owls burst out of the air, one after another in a sweep as I wafted my hand from left to right. One after another, large fluffy raptors with powerful eyes and ears leaped out nothingness and became actual at my command. Yellow eyes and striped feathers, broad wings and grasping talons all crafted from mana and essence.

  My preference was for the very large ones, the breed called eagle-owls. They were the ones I had the most experience with- it takes a fair amount of practice to shape the behavior and thoughts of conjured creatures. If I'm going to manifest and manipulate these creatures, I should stick with the breed I'm most familiar with. I gave them life and form, and I gave them thoughts and a purpose.

  And the owls flew out across Farfield, with instructions.

  Bring him to me.

  The essence tugged at me, the owl within looking around now. Its essence was full now, and it wanted me to have feathers, to chase mice. Find someplace high up, to roost. Preen. And fall asleep. It was daylight. Tired, sleep. Wake up for the dark and the night. I shrugged away the impulse, gritted my teeth, and soldiered on.

  By the time I realized I'd gone too far and was pushing back against the owl's nature, I was already running my hand through my hair, tugging at tiny knots and snarls. I could resist the need to roost and hunt and sleep, but I had to compromise on preening. It had been a big day. I was maybe a bit of a mess. I needed to stop pushing limits. This was getting to be a bad habit. I know that curving the behavior of living creatures is a big spell, and multiple at the same time was really ambitious. Too much sorcery lately. It's getting to me.

  But in my defense?

  I really needed my brother right then. I wandered the streets, glancing up to watch owls flitting by from street to street. People stared up and pointed. Is it a bird, is it a plane? It's a bird. I used one thumbnail to clean under the fingers of my opposite hand, and the vice verse. It was easier to give into the preening instinct than to go eat some voles. I was feeling hollow and worn. My mother told me to go to war, and I did. Back and forth across the continent. The fire was fresh in my memories. I could practically still feel the heat.

  In my memories, the screams were more felt than heard. They formed up behind me with hands, pushing me forward. "I'm dead, you have to do something". Shoving me off my feet and onto a path. Stumbling, just go forward, just do something, just accomplish something. When you're hurting, revenge can feel like progress.

  I wandered in a daze. Barely aware of my surroundings. I walked in straight lines when the road was straight, and I turned at corners otherwise. Going nowhere, but it felt like progress. An easy trap to fall into. I was really lucky that I did not run into more guards and get in more trouble, but either the rest of the Farfield town guard was more easygoing and didn't want to bother the girl wandering around like she was lost, or their comrade had warned them about the moody little girl who had one fist of iron and the other of steel. Lucky for me either way, I don't know what I would have done if I'd been accosted by any more armed men today.

  You could say I've had a very long and difficult day.

  When I woke up from the healer's care after the fire, after the void, Nathan wasn't there. Gathering supplies in Farfield. I needed to hold his hand. Instead I roared out into the world and I spent my anger until I couldn't hurt anyone but myself. But I still need my brother. He's my rock.

  The owls should have found him by now.

  I stumbled through the town, looking for him. Find me, Nathan. Find him, owls.

  "Miss?"

  I looked over. The woman had a stately confidence, even with her sleeves rolled up and her arms full of the washing. "You've been circling this block for an hour, miss. Is something wrong?"

  "Can't find my brother," I sighed. "I was told he was gathering supplies around here."

  "Gather- was he with that group that headed to the manor grounds? After the fire?"

  "Yeah, he- he was with them," I said. I didn't have the energy to clarify. It didn't matter.

  She looked concerned. "Well, miss, they headed back before dark, and they've not come back!"

  I paused. let thoughts click together. "Before dark?"

  "Yes."

  It's not dark now. But- hang on.

  "Which way's east?" I asked.

  She pointed. That was the direction the sun was in.

  This was not the afternoon, it was morning. In all the teleporting across time zones, I lost track of the time that was passing here. Nathan's supply run had been over for hours. Most of a day.

  "How the fuck did I lose an entire night?" I asked nobody in particular. With a gesture, I dispelled every owl, and then I opened a portal. She was staring, open-mouthed, as I walked into a circle of light and vanished. Sometimes I really do forget what kind of an impression those teleportation voids can make. Most people have almost no reference for a perfectly round disc of infinite white light opening up in the air for someone to step into it and through and disappear.

  I'm not sure exactly when I started thinking that it was a normal thing to do, either.

  I passed out the other door, and stepped from spaceless light into the real world again. Right back where I came from, outside the tent I'd been healed in. There were beds inside. That bed I'd woken up in was so comfortable. God that sounded like a great idea. Sleep, blessed be. My parents weren't waiting, or Nathan, but the camp sure was bustling.

  Or, rustling. With armor and steel. I blinked, and looked around. There were a lot of soldiers here, and they were looking at me. Not my father's soldiers, these were from the Royal Cavalry Guard. Elite, dangerous, and incredibly loyal. A really powerful force to be respected. Every squad leader was a leveled warrior, and even the rank-and-file soldiers were top-notch. They had the best of the best for magic weapons and support. This particular group even had several sorcerers already, you could tell from the robes and the gathered elemental essences clenched in their rune-drawing gestures.

  It is amazing how long it took me to realize what was going on here. I was not going to get to sleep in that comfortable bed.

  "Lady Natalie Francine Daria Harigold, of the House Harigold, daughter of Duke Matthew Harigold, you are under arrest."