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Jeanne cracked her door open with a small hand, glancing carefully down either end of the corridor spanning the outside of her room. Satisfied the coast was clear, she shoved the heavy oak door open the whole way, stumbling outside as she tried to balance the large leather-bound book in her arms. Hefting the tome up against her chest, she carefully balanced her precious stuffed cat Charles on top of the pages before breaking into a run down the halls.
She was already late. Cereza would be waiting.
Emerging outside into the afternoon sun, Jeanne slowed to a walk as she made her way across the grounds of the Umbran Residences, weaving through the crowd milling around the courtyard. With so many other witches around, the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to where she was heading. The last time the Elder caught her visiting Cereza she’d received the longest lecture of her young life. She hadn’t seen Cereza again for over a week after that.
No, best to keep her visits a secret for now. Jeanne vowed that one day, when she was Elder, the first thing she would do was revoke Cereza’s status as an outcast. She would be a fully-fledged Umbra Witch, no matter what anyone else thought.
Small strides took her to the border of the residential grounds, where Umbran structures met Vigrid’s wilds, tapering away to the mountains separating the Umbra from the city itself. Jeanne followed the narrow trail leading up to the heart of the closest peak, stumbling slightly over the barely-worn path.
Out there, there were only two buildings that gave any indication of the clan’s presence. The first was located deep within the mountain itself, the entrance barred with gates of the darkest, purest Umbran metal. This was the clan’s jail, reserved only for the worst of transgressors, guarded around the clock.
As long as Jeanne had lived, the jail had only held a single prisoner.
Stopping outside the gates, Jeanne suppressed a shudder. She had never liked that place. The fact that Cereza ventured down there every day impressed her more than she liked to admit. But the jail wasn’t her destination that day. Turning left, she started along the path curling around mountainside, leading to a rocky outcrop.
If the road to the jail was barely used, this one was practically invisible, wild and overgrown with tall grass that reached her shoulders, scattered with fallen rocks and boulders that nobody had bothered to clear. To Jeanne’s knowledge, only two people ever used this path, and she was one of them.
Pushing aside one last swathe of grass, Jeanne’s eyes landed on Cereza’s house.
Calling it a “house” was probably being generous. In truth, it was little more than a single room, with a single bed. But that single room was where Cereza cooked, ate, played, and practiced. Jeanne had once asked her why she didn’t sleep there as well. The jail was warmer at night, Cereza had said, and besides, she’d rather sleep next to her mother.
Jeanne stepped into the cleared plot of land, looking for her best friend.
“Cereza?” she called. “Cereza? It’s me!”
“Jeanne?” The door grated open, Cereza’s head poking out from behind. “Jeanne!”
The two girls ran to meet each other, Jeanne staggering under the weight of the book.
“You’re here!” Cereza laughed, “I almost thought you– eep!”
The second Jeanne had reached her friend, she bent to drop the book to the ground before straightening to launch herself on Cereza in one fluid motion, arms wrapping around the other girl’s shoulders as she tackled them both to the ground.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” Jeanne nuzzled her face into Cereza’s neck, dark braids tickling her cheek. “I slept in and I almost missed this morning’s lesson. The Elder scolded me so much that we finished late and then I couldn’t get away…”
Cereza giggled, squeezing her back. “That’s okay. I missed you.”
Jeanne propped herself up on her hands, looking down at her best friend with a smile. “I missed you too. And Cheshire,” she added, looking at the ragged stuffed cat in Cereza’s arms.
“Did you bring Charles?” Cereza asked hopefully.
“Yep! And that book I was telling you about.” Jeanne crawled to where she had dropped her things, passing Charles to Cereza and picking up the book under one arm. “Come on, it’s got some things I think you can practice by yourself.”
“Hello kitty!” Cereza gently poked Charles’ nose, hugging him close beside Cheshire. “You said this one’s about el-e-mentals?” she asked pronouncing the word carefully.
“Yep! I was looking at it during lessons last week. It gets pretty difficult towards the middle, but I know we can do some of the earlier stuff. What?”
Cereza was looking at her bashfully from behind Cheshire’s ears.
“You could get into so much trouble if they find out you’ve been teaching me these things,” she mumbled. “I’m to be kept from the path of the dark arts,” she recited. “Remember?”
“I don’t care,” Jeanne said hotly. “You’re Umbra, same as me. You deserve to be taught the same way too. They’ll see that one day. All of them.”
“They’ll never change their mind…”
“Neither will I,” Jeanne stepped closer to her friend, staring at her with every bit of conviction in her small body. “You’re going to be a great witch someday Cereza, I know it.”
Cereza sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, gazing at Jeanne with so much warmth it made the young heiress’ blush.
“Thank you, Jeanne.”
“Your welcome,” Jeanne mumbled, scratching the back of her head. “So… our place?”
Cereza nodded. Hand in hand, the pair waded through the grass towards the warm afternoon sun.
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The best part of Cereza’s house was the view.
Jeanne could have happily spent forever dangling her legs of the cliff that marked the edge of Cereza’s small plot of land, the coastline of Vigrid laid before her like a map, Umbra lands to her left, the town ahead in the distance, and then the ocean as far as the eye could see.
It was their place, their own small pocket of space that no-one could touch. Lately, it had also served as their classroom, where Jeanne would do her best to teach Cereza everything she was learning, so her ostracised friend wouldn’t fall behind on their studies.
With a muffled huff, Jeanne practically dropped the book on the ground, following it down as she flopped against the grass. Cereza giggled at her usually graceful friend, picking the book up herself.
“How did you walk with this?” Cereza peeked at Jeanne over the cover, the book almost covering her torso. “It’s so heavy!”
So heavy in fact, that the girls had to spread it across both their legs while they read, shoulders bumping as they leaned over the pages.
“All witches can perform basic elemental wielding,” Jeanne read, finger darting across the page. “The manipulation of a single type of matter can be achieved through the confined use of witch time, such as the acceleration or reversal of decay.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Oh it’s really neat!” Jeanne started gesturing with her hands. “The Elder told me stories of witches who would kill entire legions of angels by ambushing them in forests and decaying the tree trunks so they all fell on them!”
“Wow,” Cereza breathed, eyes wide.
“And that’s just basic wielding,” Jeanne flipped through some more pages, pointing out more diagrams. “Some witches are so strong with metal wielding they can make bullets move with their eyes!”
Jeanne hopped to her feet, arms reaching to the sky to emphasise her point. “And some witches even learn elemental forming. There’s stories of witches who can slow down rain long enough to freeze the drops into weapons!”
Cereza looked up at her friend, hands gripping the edges of the book. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do those things.”
“Of course you will!” Jeanne sat down with a thud, so close to Cereza their noses touched. “Those are really difficult anyway. The Elder’s only just started to teach me elemental shaping.” Jeanne flipped back to the earlier pages. “See?”
Pushing her glasses up her nose, Cereza peered at the illustrated diagrams Jeanne was pointing to. A chart depicting a block of wood, melting from a cube to a sphere, sharpening to a pyramid, flattening back to a cube.
“I spent a whole day just practicing this over and over,” Jeanne pulled out a block of wood from her pocket, cupping it in her palms.
Cereza leaned forward, eyes never leaving her friend’s hands. Jeanne’s eyes grew lidded, shoulders relaxing, hands growing soft, but Cereza could see the concentration behind her gaze.
In a barely perceptible motion, the corners of the block shrunk down, the edges filling out to a perfect sphere.
Cereza’s mouth dropped open.
Not breaking her concentration, Jeanne changed the shape of her hands, thumbs tucking in, straightening her fingers against the wood, which yielded to the new shape as easily as wet clay. Edges emerged once again, corners sharpening to a pyramid flush against the triangle of her fingers.
Laying her fingers flat against the pyramid’s sides, keeping her thumbs joined at the base, Jeanne opened her hands outwards, and the wood grew with the motion, the peak spreading to a cube.
In less than five seconds, Jeanne had completed the rotation of shapes, a wooden block resting in her palms once more.
“Jeanne!” Cereza squeaked, examining the block. “That was amazing!”
Jeanne tipped her chin proudly with a smile. “Thank you. It’s still only basic techniques, but the Elder thinks I’ll be able to try some harder things soon.” She handed the block to her friend. “Now you try.”
Cereza took the block in her own hands, thumbs running over the edges and corners. “Why wood?” she asked.
“It’s the easiest,” Jeanne shrugged. “Stone is too difficult, water is too hard to contain. That’s what the Elder said. Come on,” she covered Cereza’s hands in her own. “Give it a try. Think about the shape you want to make and how your hands can move to help it along.”
Cereza frowned, looking down at her hands. Letting her gaze go soft, she focused on how the edges dug into her palms, pictured how they had melted in Jeanne’s. She relaxed her hands.
And felt something shift beneath her fingers, tickling her palms.
“Ah!” Cereza dropped the block in surprise.
“Cereza!” Jeanne scooped up the wood. “Look!”
The edges and corners that had been held in Cereza’s palm were curved. The shape was still a cube, but half of it had softened into curves.
“Oh,” Cereza whispered.
“That’s really good,” Jeanne praised, passing the wood back. “I took a lot longer than that to get it to move the first time. Try again.”
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All too soon, the sun began to dip below the horizon, and Jeanne had to return home. After a few more attempts, Cereza had finally managed to coerce the block into a sphere, albeit a slightly bumpy one. The pyramid had eluded her all afternoon, even as they wandered back down the mountain path to the jail’s entrance. Cereza decided it was much easier to round things off than it was to sharpen them.
“Keep practicing,” Jeanne hugged Cereza tightly as they stood at the edge of the long grass. “I’ll see you as soon as I can. You’re doing brilliantly Cereza.”
“Thank you, Jeanne,” Cereza squeezed back just as tightly. “Don’t fall,” she pointed to the book in Jeanne’s arms.
Hefting the book and Charles up in her grip, Jeanne gave a rare grin, showing the gaps in her smile where her baby teeth had fallen out. “I never fall Cereza,” she launched herself into a sprint down the path, “and I never will!” she called over her shoulder.
Cereza giggled as she watched her friend disappear from sight, cuddling Cheshire close. A breeze rustled through her dress, the air chilling as night fell. It was getting late.
Gripping the wooden sphere to her chest, Cereza turned and made for the gates set deep into the mountainside. The thick metal structure stretched far above her, so tall that she had to crane her neck all the way back to see the top.
Shifting Cheshire to her other arm, she knocked as loudly as she could against the cold metal. She hoped someone nice was on duty.
With the screech of metal on metal, a window set into the gate slid open, the suspicious eyes of an Umbra witch glaring out into the night. Cereza felt her shoulders relax as she recognised the guard.
“Arabella!” she called up to the window. “Down here!”
The eyes in the window snapped down, softening at the sight of the young girl.
“Good evening Cereza. Will you be spending the night here?”
“Yes please,” Cereza nodded.
The window grated shut, a small door creaking open in its place. Silhouetted in the light of the lantern in her grasp stood Arabella, lithe and dangerous as ever in her Umbra uniform. Yet her eyes betrayed her younger age as she looked down at Cereza with something that could almost be considered fondness.
“Come,” she stepped to the side to let Cereza in, “I’ll walk you down.”
The pair descended the steps leading to the cells, the air warm and inviting despite the cold rock surrounding them, Arabella’s lantern casting a peaceful yellow glow against the walls.
Cereza liked Arabella. Throughout all her visits to the jail, she had met every one of the witches placed on guard, had almost memorised their rotation. Most allowed her in, led her down, and vanished again without a word, ignoring the outcast as much as possible. Some didn’t even bother to walk with her, leaving her to navigate the steep stairway in the darkness alone.
Perhaps it was Arabella’s younger age, or perhaps it was her new role as Jeanne’s combat teacher, but she always spoke to Cereza as though she was no different than any other ordinary Umbra child. And she never let Cereza walk alone in the dark.
Reaching the very base of the stairway, Arabella opened the wrought iron gate that led to a corridor of prison cells, the scrape of the metal echoing up the cavern.
“Go ahead,” she whispered. “I’ll come get you in the morning.”
Cereza nodded, stepping into the dimly lit space, Arabella closing the gate behind her. With no windows, the corridor was lit only by a few lanterns. Even so, Cereza ventured into the gloom, eyes trained on one cell in particular, stomach fluttering nervously as she approached.
Hand gripping the bars, Cereza looked in at the jail’s lone inhabitant.
“Mummy?” Rosa lifted her head.
“Cereza,” she said joyfully, chains clinking around her neck and limbs as she crossed the cell. “I didn’t hear you come in my darling. You’re getting as quiet as a mouse.” Cereza sighed happily as Rosa reached through the bars, cradling her daughter’s face.
“How are you today Mummy?” Cereza eyed the chains around Rosa’s wrists, knowing that some days they caused more pain than others.
“I’m alright darling. All the better for having you here. Now,” Rosa waved her concern away and sat with her back against the pillar that bordered the cell, “Tell me all about your day.”
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“So, I’ve changed it a little, but I’m still not as fast as Jeanne. See?” Cereza held out her misshapen sphere.
“Hmm,” Rosa hummed, taking the wood in her hand, rotating it. “That’s very good for your first attempt Cereza.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes,” Rosa smiled. “I certainly didn’t get any movement on my first day of elemental shaping.”
Cereza’s eyes lit up. “I’m stuck on the next step though. Making corners is hard.”
“They are to begin with,” Rosa agreed. “Show me your hands,” she reached out between the bars.
Cereza placed both her small hands in her mother’s, eyes rapt with attention.
“Do you know why witches learn elemental magic using wood first?”
“It’s the easiest?” Cereza guessed.
“Yes, but there is a reason for that,” Rosa gently stroked Cereza’s fingers with her own. “Wood wants to grow. It was once a tree, after all. Stone is too unyielding, too brittle, it wants to shatter. You have to achieve a certain level of strength before you can push stone in your favour.”
“Wood is different,” Rosa held up Cereza’s practice piece. “You push it, yes, but some elements cannot simply be shaped through brute force and sheer will. Some are ready and waiting to take a new shape. You just have to be willing to guide it, nudge it in the right direction. Lead it to the shape you want.”
Rosa pressed the wood back into Cereza’s palm. “Try again,” she encouraged. “Go as slowly as you’d like.”
Cereza looked up at Rosa, then down at the wood. Taking a deep breath in through her nose, gaze softening, she let her mother’s words echo through her mind, let them run together into one sound as she felt the piece in her hands.
Guide. Push. Shape.
Cereza moved her hands the way Jeanne had showed her. Guide. Push. Shape.
Something poked against her palm.
Snapping her head down, she bit back a squeal of delight as she held up a pyramid, edges just as sharp as Jeanne’s demonstration.
“That’s my girl,” Rosa smiled. “Into a cube now. Guide it outwards.”
With a bit more concentration, and some small adjustments to her hands from Rosa, Cereza proudly held up her block of wood, returned to the shape Jeanne had originally given her.
“Very good Cereza,” her mother praised.
“Still not as fast as Jeanne,” Cereza said humbly. “But I’ll get it Mummy! You helped so much!”
“Jeanne’s very clever, isn’t she?” Rosa said. Even without having met the young heiress, Rosa was deeply grateful to her daughter’s friend. Befriending an outcast, let alone educating her on dark arts that had been forbidden from her showed great loyalty and compassion as far as Rosa was concerned.
“She’s the cleverest,” Cereza yawned, rubbing her eyes.
“Alright darling,” Rosa reached through the bars to rub Cereza’s head. “Time for sleep.”
“But I’m not tired,” Cereza protested, “I can still practice more.”
“There’s a time for young witches to practice and a time for them to rest,” Rosa settled herself against the bars.
Cereza sighed, laying down with her back pressed against the cell. Setting her wooden block down right before her face, she ran a finger appreciatively over the edges.
“Goodnight Mummy,” Cereza clutched Cheshire to her chest.
“Goodnight my dear,” Rosa’s hand found her daughter’s side, running her hand soothingly over the fabric of her dress. “Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…”
Just as it always had, her mother’s voice washed over her like a blanket, and Cereza found sleep.
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By the end of the next day, Cereza could run the entire shifting sequence just seconds slower than Jeanne. The day after, Cereza was running it forwards and backwards, and was exploring more complex shapes; flowers, crescent moons, birds, butterflies. She found it somehow soothing, how nothing was lost in the process, only encouraged in a different direction, made new.
And by her third day of practice, Cereza had made Jeanne a gift.
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“Cereza…”
“Stay there!”
“Do I really need to close my eyes?”
“Yes! No peeking!”
“Okay…”
“Jeanne!”
“What?”
“Your eyes were open!”
“Were not!”
“Were too, I saw them! No peeking!”
“Okay, okay,” Jeanne sighed, eyes screwed shut. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure it’s ready…Okay, open.”
Cereza’s hands were clasped behind her back as she bounced on the balls of her feet, eyes sparkling.
“It’s not perfect,” she held out her hands. “But it’s for you.”
Jeanne’s eyes widened at the small statue in Cereza’s hands, the wooden block she had given her now a miniature version of Jeanne herself.
“It’s really not perfect,” Cereza said, eyes trained on the floor. Jeanne noticed with surprise that her friend’s cheeks had begun to colour. “It was tricky doing it from memory.”
“No, no,” Jeanne hurried, taking the gift with careful hands. “I think it’s brilliant. It looks just like me.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Jeanne nodded, craning her head to look at Cereza’s work from all angles. “This is really smart Cereza. I’ve never even thought about making something like this.”
Cereza beamed, blush deepening.
“But I think it needs something,” Jeanne stuck a hand in her pocket, rifling around.
“What?” Cereza asked, worried.
Jeanne pulled out another wooden block, kneeling down. “I look a bit lonely, don’t you think?”
Cereza’s smile grew wide as she sat beside her friend, watching Jeanne push shape the second piece until a small wooden bespectacled figure sat in her hands, a perfect image of Cereza. Jeanne always made it look so easy, but the grace she held when she used her magic was so elegant, so tranquil, that Cereza could never bring herself to be jealous.
“There you go,” Jeanne passed both finished statues to Cereza. “Now they won’t be lonely.”
Cereza held the two together, side by side. Something felt inherently right about seeing them beside each other, she decided.
“Jeanne? Can I try something?”
“Of course. What is it?”
Cereza pressed the two statues together, so their hands touched, and closed her eyes. If she could shape wood, she figured, there was no reason why she couldn’t fuse it as well.
In her mind’s eye, Cereza saw the line where the two pieces met, edges closed smooth. As she ran her fingers over each, she felt the edges unfurl, parting into threadlike strands. Passing her other hand over both statues, she slowly willed the threads to join. In seconds, the wood had fused, and the seam vanished under her hands.
Cracking open one eye, then the other, she blinked with surprise at now nicely her idea had turned out. Cereza turned her work so Jeanne could see, matching her friend’s smile with her own. Jeanne scooted herself closer, knees knocking with Cereza’s as each held one side of their creation.
“One last thing,” Jeanne turned the statue and began running a finger over the base. In its wake, wood parted easily, the resulting grooves spelling out both of their names.
“Now it’s perfect.”
Cereza nodded her agreement, dropping her head to tuck against Jeanne’s shoulder, who promptly draped an arm around Cereza’s back, squeezing slightly.
“Together,” she whispered. “Just like they always should be.”
“Like they always will be,” Jeanne replied, voice heavy with promise.
Jeanne returned home late that day, stalled by the subsequent argument over who should keep their creation, each wanting the other to have it, insisting it was their gift. Never one to back down from an argument, Jeanne eventually won out. Cereza begrudgingly agreed to keep it, but insisted it was still theirs to share.
The next day, Cereza gathered enough wood to shape a simple shelf to affix to the wall of her house. And from then on, whenever she lay in her bed, she would stare at the two tiny figures, permanently hand in hand, and smile.
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Jeanne stumbled as another blast of fire hit the mountain trail, the path not three feet ahead of her instantly swallowed in flames. Screwing her eyes against the blaze, harsh against the cool dark night, she ran on, the metal of her guns solid against her palms.
They had never expected the Laguna to be so bold as to mount an attack on Umbran home grounds. They had dealt with horde attacks before, but never like this, never to this scale, never this organised. Jeanne could have sworn she had even seen the Audito descend on the training grounds before she had started running.
Because after the first wave of attacks, only one thing rang clear in Jeanne’s mind. If any Lumen knew who possessed the Left Eye, Cereza would be overrun in seconds.
As soon as she was assured that her Sisters were holding their own against the onslaught, she had taken off towards Cereza’s home.
Shifting into her lynx form, Jeanne’s paws ate up the ground, the usually dark path alight with the fire that had descended across her homelands in mere minutes.
Hearing an explosion overhead, she craned her head to see a fleet of Kinship streak through the sky, Braves clinging to their backs, aiming not for the prison, but for the rocky outcrop to the side of the mountain.
Guts twisting with worry, Jeanne raced on.
As she neared the jail entrance, a roar shook the air, and Jeanne tilted her head in time to see Fortitudo’s two sets of jaws sailing in from the side, fire already spewing from their maw. In no time, a fireball had blocked the path ahead as the Audito flew back to the Umbran stronghold, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
As Jeanne neared the blaze, muscles coiled for the jump, two other feline figures leapt through the flames towards her. Jeanne skidded to a halt, claws tearing up the loose dirt path as she fought to recognise the pair through the flames and smoke.
Sparing her a sideways glance and a short nod was the lithe form of a leopard, fur glistening white in the moonlight, ringed markings edged with luminous blue. Arabella.
Jeanne barely had time to return her nod before the guard raced off towards the fray. A low growl made her ears twitch as she turned towards the second figure.
Haloed by the fire was an enormous black tiger, the metal chains around her legs glinting in the firelight. Rosa’s deep red eyes held hers in an unbreakable stare, and Jeanne couldn’t help but feel scrutinised under the older witch’s gaze.
But Rosa’s ears fell against her head. Growling, she flicked her head back towards the mountain, where the angel fleet had almost reached its side. Jeanne nodded her understanding, tail whisking back and forth in anticipation.
Rosa’s eyes softened. Approaching with great steps, she surprised Jeanne by pressing her face against the side of her own, rubbing their cheeks together. Like a mother would to her daughter.
Jeanne could only drop her head in humility, ears flat against her head. Rosa stepped back, spared her one last look, one last nod, and tore off after Arabella.
Eternal imprisonment or not, these were desperate times. Arabella must have realised that.
Jeanne suddenly heard the tell-tale sound of a Kinship charging their attack. Whipping her head around, she broke out into a sprint in time to see half a dozen beams of light rend the night air, all directed towards a single point at the side of the mountain.
Jeanne dug her feet into the ground and ran.
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The tall grass parted in Jeanne’s wake as she tore into the clearing of Cereza’s home. While the building itself remained intact, the ground had been scorched to a patchwork of embers and ash.
Jeanne cast an eye over the already dead husks of the six Kinship scattered across the ground.
“Cereza?” she called. “Cereza!”
A Kinship groaned as it toppled onto its side, revealing Cereza. Out of breath and covered in soot, her already ragged clothes now slightly singed, but whole and alive.
“Jeanne!” Cereza’s voice sighed in relief as she ran towards her friend. Jeanne met her halfway, hands immediately gripping Cereza’s arms as she eyed her for any signs of injury.
“Are you alright?” she asked, voice hardened with worry, hand moving to cup Cereza’s cheek.
“Yes, yes I’m fine,” Cereza placed a hand over Jeanne’s. “Jeanne what’s happening?”
“The witch hunts,” Jeanne looked out over the cliff bordering Cereza’s home, the usually clear view choked with smoke and raining fire. “I don’t understand it,” she shook her head. “They’ve never been so bold before. They’ve never tried to overrun us in our own home. Something’s different. They’re organised, strategic…”
Cereza was already striding to her house, Jeanne’s hand in a firm grip.
“And my mother?” she asked, leading them through the door.
“Already joined the battle.”
“Arabella’s doing, I presume?” Cereza equipped her guns, the very same ones Jeanne had smuggled out of the training grounds years ago. Old and mended many times over, but they had served her well enough in the past.
“Indeed,” Jeanne’s eyes strayed around the room, gaze snagging on the shelf across from the bed.
“Well, best not to keep them waiting,” Cereza strode to the door. “Even though I know you love arriving fashionably late…Jeanne?”
Jeanne had taken their statue, slightly dusty now, off the shelf, fingers running over the faces of the tiny figures.
“Jeanne?” Cereza’s hand rested on her shoulder.
Jeanne turned to face Cereza. Beautiful, brave, determined, wonderful Cereza, whose cheek was smudged with ash and whose brow was furrowed in concern. Jeanne stepped into the circle of Cereza’s arms, statue gripped in her hands. Cereza looked down, eyes softening.
Everything would change after that night. Jeanne somehow knew that down to her bones, for better or for worse, things wouldn’t be the same after the events that were about to unfold.
She pressed the statue into Cereza’s hands.
“To keep you safe,” she said simply. And Cereza nodded her understanding.
“Together,” she whispered, swirling the carving away into her summoning void.
The screeching of an Affinity horde pierced through the walls, drawing their attention.
“Ready?” Cereza asked, gun ready.
Jeanne nodded. “Together.”
Never one for subtlety, Cereza kicked the door open, and the pair rushed into the fray.
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Jeanne’s memories of that night moved strangely, events blurring together at a rapid pace, a haze of flames, gunfire, and screams, from Umbra and Laguna alike. Yet some precious few seconds of that night would always be seared into her mind with razor-sharp clarity, their time slowed to a crawl.
Cereza’s cry at seeing her mother’s body. The screech of approaching angels. Her knife singing as it was drawn. The snap of her arms as she fought the onslaught of angels, refusing to let them get near.
Cereza’s scream, now different kind of pain, as she vanished with a flash.
The solid sound of wood meeting stone as their statue dropped to the floor.
Even amongst all the chaos, as she closed her fist around the still-glowing red stone, regret stabbed at Jeanne’s heart that there wasn’t enough time to recover their treasure.
Regret, and a wrenching sadness that she had broken their promise.
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“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think these might mean something to you.”
Wood hit the metal wing of the airship hard. Despite the veil of the Lumen Sage’s grasp on Jeanne’s mind, the sight of the long-lost treasure was enough to lift the haze of control just long enough for her to pick up the statue with a gasp.
“Yes,” the near-silent voice in the furthest recesses of her mind wanted to scream. “Yes, it does. More than you’ll ever know. More than I can say.”
Not for the first time, Jeanne threw all her willpower against Balder’s control, mind writhing to free itself as Lumen magics sunk their fingers into the deepest parts of her mind, smothering her true voice in a heat of white that seared through her skull.
“Don't you remember Cereza? Will you ever remember…”
Jeanne was powerless to stop her arm from throwing their carving over her shoulder.
“I’ve no need for worthless junk,” her traitorous tongue loosened by a voice that wasn’t her own. And in her mind, weaker now than it had ever been, Jeanne’s true voice cried out her anger, her sorrow, the sound crashing around her head in a scream only she could hear.
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Jeanne entered their apartment with a sigh. One would think having defeated the Creator the dramas of the high school staff room would be more bearable.
Throwing her keys on their hook, she made her way further inside, already pulling the trial exams she had to grade out of her bag.
“Best get the wine ready Cereza,” she strode into the kitchen, holding the papers up. “I suspect I’ll need it to get through all of these.”
Jeanne stopped at the sight of an empty kitchen. Odd, usually Cereza was there preparing dinner at that time.
“In here Jeanne,” Cereza’s voice floated from deeper inside. Jeanne followed her voice down the hallway, stopping against the doorframe of the living room.
The large couch that took up the centre of the room faced away from the door, but Jeanne could see Cereza reclined against the arm, legs draped over the opposite end.
Cereza was too engrossed in whatever she was working on to notice her yet, and Jeanne took a moment to observe the other witch.
The dimmed the lights of the room cast a softening glow across Cereza’s sharp features, the golden lighting mixing with the cool blue of the city’s night streaming in from the balcony windows. Blue and gold played against the shadows of Cereza’s face, nestling against her neck and collarbones, exposed by her oversized pale blue sweater, settling in the angles of her concentrated frown.
Jeanne was so, so unspeakably lucky.
“Ouch! Motherfucker…” Cereza hissed, bringing her thumb to her lips. Catching sight of Jeanne in her periphery, she relaxed into a smile.
“Dinner’s in the oven,” she said, tipping her head against the arm of the couch, pressing whatever she was working on to her chest. “I got a bit distracted.”
Jeanne approached, bending over to press a kiss to Cereza’s forehead, barely holding back a smile as her lover blinked her eyes closed at the contact.
“Unlike you,” she said, hand coming up to toy with Cereza’s recently-cut hair. “What’s on your mind?”
“Aside from the splinter?” Cereza held up her hand. Jeanne took it, examining the tiny sliver of wood that had pierced the skin of Cereza’s thumb. With a touch of her finger, the offending shard slid easily out of Cereza’s skin, and was promptly flicked to the floor.
“Better?” Jeanne asked, kissing Cereza’s finger.
“Quite,” Cereza smiled back. She held up her project. “It would seem I’m out of practice.”
Jeanne’s felt her throat abruptly close. Cereza had recreated their wooden statue, only this time, there were two pairs of figures, carved in much more detail than their younger hands had been able to manage.
Young Cereza and Jeanne now stood facing each other, each holding the other’s hand and clutching a tiny stuffed cat with the other. Jeanne ran her finger over their small faces, marvelling at how accurate Cereza had made the details, from the button of Cheshire’s eye to the point of Charles’ hat.
The pair were no longer affixed to a backing, but stood freely on a solid base. And behind them were two new figures. Jeanne and Cereza, this time grown up, hands interlaced in a soundless dance, wooden clothes flowing around them in a motionless spin.
“You remembered? When we made the first?” Jeanne asked, eyes flicking to Cereza’s. Since the fight with Jubileus, Cereza’s memories had been slowly trickling back, each recovery far more than Jeanne had ever dared to hope for.
“You’ve always been a good teacher Jeanne,” Cereza nodded her response. “It came back to me this morning.”
Jeanne set the statue down carefully on the coffee table, and in one fluid motion had deftly straddled Cereza’s hips, hands coming up to frame her face. The latter raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a cocky smile.
“Well someone’s impatient-” Cereza’s remark was muffled by Jeanne’s lips against her own, soft and languid. Cereza was quick to respond in kind, propping herself up on one elbow to glide her free hand through Jeanne’s hair, nails lightly scratching her scalp.
Jeanne pulled away first, leaning in for another quick kiss before resting her forehead against Cereza’s.
“That’s one of my favourite memories,” she admitted.
Cereza hummed a low note in her throat, tilting her head. “Why?” she asked.
Jeanne slid herself down to rest across Cereza’s body, head against her chest.
“It holds everything I loved about you, even back then. Everything I still do love about you,” Jeanne toyed with Cereza’s hand absentmindedly, linking their fingers. “You had so little, but you were so selfless. I never felt I deserved any of the gifts you gave me.”
“Teaching you was the most fulfilling part of my childhood, Cereza. You were always so unaware of how strong you truly were. Watching you grow into your powers brought me such joy. You had so much humility.”
“Well I suppose nothing’s changed then,” Cereza smirked. Jeanne narrowed her eyes, dropping Cereza’s hand.
“No, unfortunately you taught yourself how to be cocky when I wasn’t looking. You can imagine my disappointment,” Jeanne stood from the couch. “And you developed a nasty habit of ruining moments. That, I’m afraid, hasn’t changed."
Jeanne picked up the statue, a half smirk of her own playing on her lips. She heard rather than saw Cereza rise from the couch, felt her drape an arm around her waist as she rested her chin on her shoulder.
“It’s mine as well,” she whispered, all the bravado gone from her voice.
“What?” Jeanne turned her head to welcome Cereza’s touch as she drew her long hair away, cupping her neck as she pressed a kiss to the exposed skin.
“My favourite memory so far,” Cereza explained, breath warm against Jeanne’s skin. “You were wrong, I’m afraid. None of the Umbra changed their minds in the end, no matter how I fought to prove myself. But you never wavered, not once.” She nodded to the statue in Jeanne’s hand.
“And whenever I looked at what we had made, I thought of you, and never felt quite so alone.”
Jeanne’s throat felt tight again, as it did whenever she dwelled too much on how unfair Cereza’s childhood had been. Setting the statue down, she turned in Cereza’s arms, hands cupping her elbows.
“I dare say we’ve both had quite enough of being alone,” she ventured. Cereza breathed out a gentle laugh.
“I’d say you’re right,” she paused, running her hands up and down Jeanne’s forearms, brow creased in thought.
“Thank you, Jeanne,” she said finally, “You’ve always been so good to me. I don’t think I’ve taken the time to say it properly.”
Jeanne cupped Cereza’s jaw as she drew her in and kissed her deeply. Cereza’s arms automatically fell to her waist, drawing them both impossibly close. They kissed until it became hard to distinguish where one body ended and the other began. Even as they pulled away from each other, Jeanne’s hand remained where it was, thumb stroking Cereza’s cheek.
“It’s nothing less than you deserve,” Jeanne pressed their foreheads together. “I only wish I could have given you more…”
“No,” Cereza shook her head vehemently. “Stop. You were always enough. You still are.”
Jeanne smiled sadly as she pressed another quick kiss to Cereza’s lips.
“Did I mention how you always had bad timing? Even when we were young?”
“How so?” Cereza raised an eyebrow.
“Well, it would have been nice to have had this conversation 500 years ago, don’t you think?”
Cereza laughed, fully this time, and Jeanne’s chest warmed at the sound.
“Really? Well if I recall correctly, you’ve always been one to do things fashionably late.”
“Point taken,” Jeanne admitted.
“Now,” Cereza pressed a quick kiss to Jeanne’s cheek before picking up the statue. “To find a new home for this. And then dinner. With wine.”
“Oh, I love you,” Jeanne smiled, heart still stuttering at the fact she was able to say it so freely. That she was able to say it whenever she wanted.
“I love you too,” Cereza said, just as reverently. “Come on. This isn’t going to put itself away.”
Cereza took Jeanne’s hand, leading her to their bedroom. And just as she always had, Jeanne followed.
--------------------------------------------
Cereza blinked awake as she felt a shift on the mattress beside her, turning in time to see Jeanne fall gracelessly onto her side of the bed with a groan.
“Finally finished?” Cereza asked, glancing at the clock. Jeanne groaned her response.
“Only three a.m.” Cereza rubbed her eye, “You’ve done worse before. Though I will admit, I much prefer you when you’ve had a full night’s sleep. You’re far less likely to snap in the morning when I wake you up.”
“It’s Friday,” Jeanne shot back, peeling off her clothes and throwing them neatly into the laundry hamper by the door. “I don’t have to get up for work.”
“Meaning you could have finished grading all those over the weekend and come to bed far earlier,” Cereza pointed out.
Jeanne shook her head as she lay herself down, immediately finding her place tucked against Cereza’s body, head resting on her shoulder, legs tangling together. Cereza responded just as automatically, curling an arm around Jeanne’s back, hand resting gently against her ribs, thumb stroking over the faint lines her bra had left against her skin.
“No,” Jeanne said, eyes closing as she laid her hand over Cereza’s chest, feeling her heartbeat, slow and steady. “I finished everything today so that we could spend the weekend together. Uninterrupted.”
Cereza glanced down at Jeanne, adoration rushing through her. Taking Jeanne’s hand in her own, smiling at the ink stains around her nails, she pressed a kiss to each finger before turning to kiss Jeanne’s forehead.
“Well, I believe we are overdue for a shopping trip that doesn’t involve Rodin’s wares,” she thought aloud. “A free weekend sounds perfect. Some new dresses, another pair of gloves for me, new boots for you…What do you think?”
Cereza’s question was met with silence. Glancing down, her lips melted into a smile.
Jeanne had fallen asleep, her breathing soft and even under Cereza’s hand, features relaxed in the way they only ever were when she was asleep with Cereza.
Careful not to wake her lover, Cereza drew the blanket up around Jeanne’s shoulders, kissing her head once more.
“Goodnight Jeanne,” she whispered against her hair.
As Cereza settled back into the pillows, her gaze wandered across the room to the bookshelf. Their new statue now held pride of place, moonlight catching on the dancing figures, illuminating their joyful faces.
Cereza smiled and held Jeanne tightly, the softness and warmth of the other witch guiding her down to sleep.
Twenty odd years Cereza had been out of that casket, and things were finally beginning to feel like home.