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Darcy hadn’t actually expected to get any privacy when she’d ordered Riven over. She shares her dorm room with both her sisters, and it isn’t like there’s anything close to a wall separating their beds or anything. Which is fine. Sex had not been on the table from the start.
But for fuck’s sake it would’ve been nice to be able to sleep in her own fucking bed without interruption.
She’s woken out of a dead sleep, the kind of dead she only gets when there’s a storm out and Stormy vibes with it, when her boyfriend throws himself out of bed and - yanks.
It’s not a literal, physical pull; it’s magical.
So they’re doing this now, too.
She’s growling when she crawls out of bed. Icy’s lying soaked and half-covered in frost on the floor. Clinging to her - or perhaps being clung to - is a pale, terrified looking Bloom. Well - Icy looks scared too.
It’s her sister’s fear that stops her annoyance dead in its tracks.
“You’re a fucking wizard?” Bloom wheezes, and pushes herself up. There’s blood on the floor where she was laying. Stormy’s launched herself out of bed and is investigating before Darcy can even take a breath.
“Absofuckinglutely not. Ma’s a witch.” Riven spits out immediately, offended.
“What’s the difference?” Bloom breathes, because although Riven would only risk outing himself for a life-and-death situation she’s absolutely predictable. It’s nice, in a weird way - the way Bloom’s mind works is something steady and soothing, a hot ball of determination and outrage and fury and curiosity at all times. If Darcy ever got overwhelmed - Bloom would be someone whose thoughts she could cling to to ground herself.
“I’m sexy and low class.” Riven says firmly. This apparently satisfies Bloom, which is good, because there’s a sharp crackling sound behind her and she yelps. Darcy groans aloud.
“We could’ve just put a fucking bandage over those, Stormy.” Icy growls.
“Did you just - cauterize them?” Bloom’s voice is about ten octaves too high.
“The fuck else was I supposed to do? You were bleeding.”
“Bandages, you dumbass.”
There’s no chill to Icy’s voice. It’s not Darcy’s first indication that something is wrong. Before she can do anything, however, there is a hammering at their door.
Darcy inquires; Cloud Tower is all energy and inquisition and hunger but it still sends her a brief flash of red-hair-hissing-witch before throwing all its attention back to her boyfriend.
“Your room is touching me, why is it touching me, how do I get it to stop touching me?!”
“Relax, that means it likes you.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Darcy hisses over her shoulder. She ignores the way Bloom whips around to stare up at Stormy with too-big eyes, or the way Icy groans and presses her palms into her eyes, and strides over to the door. Riven can handle himself; whatever bullshit her sister and Bloom have gotten into can wait.
It takes a good couple seconds to figure out how to position herself to hide the fairy and specialist behind her, before she yanks it open.
Standing with a hand raised poised to knock is a red-haired freshman with Bloom-big eyes and a sea of nerves-concern-excitement-worry in her head.
“Mirta - “ Lucy’s standing behind the brat, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking murderous. Her mind is blessedly smooth, blank like black glass or the surface of a cold cauldron.
“What the fuck do you want?” Darcy asks sharply.
“We heard a bunch of noise! I wanted to make sure you were all okay, or that you didn’t need anything!” Mirta chirps. Chirps. It’s too early in the morning for this.
“It’s orgy night.” Darcy deadpans, expression not changing.
“Fucking told you.” Lucy growls. This surprises Darcy. Lucy knows that Darcy is full of shit - and she’s never been one to play along.
Oh, Mirta must have her whipped.
“What could you even do that would in any way be useful to us?” Darcy asks coolly - but not so coldly as to imitate Icy. The girl’s an inconvenience, not a problem.
“Well, if you ever need a body disposed of, I know this really great composting spell!”
“I’m sorry for her. We’re trying to work on it.” Lucy growls, and then snags the back of the girl’s shirt.
“I can see you have your hands full with this one.” Which is weird. Lucy doesn’t do people. Not after their freshman year when - well. Darcy knows Lucy at least knows how to take care of a body.
Mirta beams.
Darcy slams the door shut on her face, takes a breath, and then turns back to her sisters, boyfriend,and - ugh - friend.
Stormy is holding Bloom’s face mashed against her stomach to muffle the idiot’s laughter. Icy looks like she’s praying. Riven’s still swatting at the air around him and glaring at the walls.
“Riven, just introduce yourself.” She instructs. He pauses, gives the wall nearest to him another suspicious glare, and then turns his attention to her. She waves a hand encouragingly, condescendingly.
“Uh - Ma’s a witch. I grew up learning shit. Didn’t realize it was weird ‘till I was way older, and by that point it was all I had left of her.”
It’s about all she knows; he’s not very forthcoming about his mother. Learned behavior, of course - any witch worth her salt would be wary of sharing that information - but most of it just comes from his existence.
Witches are women. If they pass their craft down, they do it to their daughters. If men want to learn magic, they become wizards. And, like anyone with any ounce of common sense, Riven would rather bite his own tongue out than associate with those fools. It’s simply easier to not talk about it, than to join Bloom in her weird little “antithetical to the very foundations of magic” boat - it’s why he warmed up to her so quickly.
“You shouldn’t have been able to do what you did.” Icy doesn’t sound half as hostile as she probably should.
Darcy lets worry coil in her gut, and makes her way over. Last she’d known, Icy had gone to bed. She hadn’t known Icy had hooked up with Bloom, or that they’d gone - swimming? Running? It was storming out. Maybe they’d gone to Magix?
“Your fucking dorm helped me out.”
“Cloud Tower, you dumbass. Be polite.”
“Sorry. Thank you, Cloud Tower, for helping me. I appreciate it. Please stop poking me.”
The stone around them seems to shudder, as if the building itself is heaving out a beleaguered sigh. But Riven drops his arms. It really likes him. She tries not to preen.
“What shouldn’t he have been able to do?” Darcy asks. Both Icy and Bloom tense up. Stormy flings her arms up immediately. Bloom does not immediately remove herself from Stormy’s person.
That bad feeling intensifies as the silence lengthens.
“We almost got - um. Caught. There was no way we were gonna make it out in time. And the - uh. Spells. Were meant for. Keeping us in. He rescued us.” Bloom says awkwardly, awkward because she shouldn’t look so serious about some professor catching her running around with Icy in tow, even at such a late - early? - hour.
“…Bloom needs to transform. And we need our Whisperian crystals.” Icy finally says. She doesn’t meet their eyes. Darcy’s eyebrows climb, but she settles herself comfortably at Icy’s side and reaches. Her crystal comes to her as eagerly as it ever does, a bright spot of black on her mind-map and a warm, soothing pulse caged in her palms. When she opens her eyes, both Icy and Stormy have theirs, and Bloom is all winged and sparkly. She’s still got that damned skirt she’s been bitching about.
Her transformation looks off.
“Guess it’s a good thing we didn’t let Mirta in.” Darcy murmurs.
“The girl at the door?” Riven asks.
“She’s an illusionist. She’d tear through this like paper.” Darcy explains, and tugs at the sheer fabric encasing Bloom’s arms.
“If it’s hiding pants from me, I’m gonna fucking kill someone.” Bloom grumbles.
“So what are we doing with this?” Stormy asks loudly, already looking bored.
“We’re going to test for the Dragon Fire.” Icy’s voice shakes. Finely, minutely, but -
“What.”
“The sooner we test the sooner I can start panic crying and the sooner we can explain shit.” Bloom says firmly, hands fisted in her lap.
“There is no crying allowed in this dorm room between the hours of now and ever.”
“She gets a pass.” Icy says flatly, and in about three seconds Riven is huddled behind Darcy’s shoulder. Darcy wishes she had a shoulder to hide behind. Instead she meets Stormy’s sharp gaze, her sister paling at the implications.
She casts her crystal out without preamble, and starts the incantation. Shit goes fine for the first half, but the moment she’s woven enough magic together for the incantation to take effect, the crystals blaze with light and Bloom herself, caught between them, flashes a blinding, brilliant shade of orange-red-yellow, fire incarnate.
She’s still blinking spots from her eyes when she feels her crystal dissolve back into whatever space it occupies when not in her hands. It’s humming, self-satisfied and pleased.
“Fucking told you the Flame was in Alfea!” Stormy crows, only a little hysterical.
“I knew you were worth it.” Riven announces. Darcy leans out of the way; Bloom’s fist collides with his arm with a thwack.
“Okay so what the fuck happened?” Darcy asks loudly, because otherwise her idiots will go off on another tangent.
Icy starts doing her breathing exercises. The ones she hasn’t done seriously since freshman year, before they formed a coven.
“I’ve been - I was having these fucked up dreams. I told you guys about them. The glowing lady shouting my name? It - It got worse after I got my wings. And then tonight I was trying to go to sleep because I’m fucking exhausted but it - it was so much worse. She was so loud and - I could feel her. Like, I could sense where she was. I didn’t want to wake up the girls, not again, so I texted Icy and she agreed to go check it out with me.”
Bloom stops. Hesitates.
“I’d - um. Recognized her. Yesterday. That mural in front of town hall? She’s - she’s on there. So I tried to research her, but I couldn’t find much other than her name.”
“Her being Daphne the Nymph, and check it out meaning we searched the bottom of the lake.” Icy says dryly.
Darcy doesn’t really like to feel her sisters if she can avoid it, not when she knows they’re wound up. With tensions and emotions already high like this, there’s no way she would open herself up to that - but for an instant, she’s tempted. Because Icy sounds more pissed than anything. And her rage is genuine.
“Right. I - and it was her.”
“Daphne. Like those old stories?” Stormy asks slowly. Her sister doesn’t look too happy - Darcy can almost see her thoughts spiraling, darting around behind her eyes. It makes sense. Stormy likes stories.
“What do you know about her?” Bloom asks. Stormy pulls a face.
“Not much. She was a nymph. The leader of the nymphs. They guarded the entire magical dimension - not just their respective homeworlds. And then they didn’t anymore.”
“Homeworlds. Like fairies? Were they…a type of fairy?”
“Dunno. Why don’t we ask her?”
“Well she’s dead.”
“Stormy stop interrupting before I have a fucking aneurysm.” Darcy growls, because that’s just - and Bloom’s so easily distracted -
“There was a prison at the bottom of the lake. Her corpse was in it. She’s - she had - been trapped there. I’m fairly certain Bloom freed her before Riven rescued us from being caught.” Icy’s voice is mechanical.
At her side, Riven lets out a low hiss.
“She knew me. Said she’d been the one to send me to Earth. And that we were both fairies of the Dragon Flame. And. I think - I think she told us to go to some place called Domino. A planet, I think. For answers. She didn’t have a lot of time.”
“She said Magix wasn’t safe for Bloom.” Icy adds.
Darcy - compartmentalizes. Lets out a slow breath, and straightens her spine.
“That implies that the missing magic is related to the Dragon Flame. That also implies Alfea has had a hand in all of it. Or - not just Alfea, but maybe the Magix Counsel in its entirety.” Darcy’s not surprised, not exactly, but this is just a whole heap of -
When she’d been little and her dad had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up and she said ruler of the universe she’d known what she’d been signing up for but handling all this intrigue and politicking is going to drive her fucking mad well before she even gets a chance to do any ruling and that’s absolute ass.
“So - Alfea absolutely can’t find out about this.” Riven says lowly.
“My magic’s been disguising myself without me, um. Knowing. So I should be fine there. And I don’t intend to tell anybody other than - oh, hell, Stella’s going to fucking roast me alive.”
“This is a fucking disaster.” Darcy breathes, and then hauls herself to her feet. Bloom turns her stupidly big eyes on her, and Darcy scowls.
“Bloom. Sweetheart. You fucking idiot. Alfea was apparently willing to condemn one of the magical dimensions’ most famous protectors to an eternity of torment and insanity, most likely with the sole intention of gaining control over the Dragon Flame itself.”
“Daphne was dead. She died getting you out of Domino. You, presumably the sole survivor. She had nothing to lose. You do.” Icy sounds tired. Bloom’s eyes fill with tears, but -
Darcy likes her. Genuinely, honestly, actually likes her. Bloom’s upset and crying but simmering below that is pure rage. She’d have made such a good witch.
She still might.
“So. Domino. Where the fuck is that.” Riven asks conversationally. Darcy pointedly ignores how he scoots forward until he’s got an arm around Bloom’s shoulders. She pointedly ignores herself, moving to yank a blanket from her bed and throw it at the two of them. She absolutely does not hear a muted thanks from the pixie.
Icy still hasn’t said anything. She’s. Still laying there, glaring up at the ceiling.
“Stormy, dear, this is your time to shine.” Darcy says, and strides over to the nearest dresser to dig out some dry clothes. Icy won’t get a cold, not exactly, but going through the motions will be good for her.
“Why the hell would Stormy know where this place is?” There’s no bite to Riven’s question. Darcy still rolls her eyes at him - Stormy so rarely gets a chance to brag about herself. He has no idea what he’s just unleashed. And, right on cue -
“I’m a weather witch, dipshit. Storms are just my favorite. Maps and directions are my bread and fucking butter. Can’t utilize air currents if you don’t know what kinds you got to work with!”
“Right but Domino’s supposed to be a planet? Space doesn’t have currents?” Bloom sounds bewildered.
“Whoever told you that’s a fucking idiot and a fucking liar.” Stormy advises sagely. Bloom lets out a noise. Must be some new not-according-to-science information.
And - as tense as things are, that sound, Stormy’s attitude - it eases things. Darcy closes her eyes and savors that, for a second, and then heads back to Icy.
Stormy’s already plastering the floor with her maps. Vintage, but she prefers the actual physical ink and paper to holograms. Darcy suspects it’s something to do with visualization; holograms add too many dimensions for Stormy to track as easily. She already does it in her mind, and having that step taken out throws her off something terrible.
“Holy shit that’s a lot of planets.” Bloom murmurs. She’s not touching Stormy’s maps - good on her, Stormy might like her but she’d still go feral - but she’s still closer than Darcy would dare to get when Stormy’s vibrating that intensely.
“The gray ones are dead.” Stormy says absently, and Bloom - freezes.
“What do you mean dead?”
“They’re not usually on official maps but there’s a fuck…ton…” Stormy also goes still. Darcy looks up immediately - she’s got some killer self preservation instincts, thank you very much - but it still takes her -
Bloom rocks back on her heels, right into Riven. Beneath Darcy, Icy goes pale. Darcy’s pretty sure she does the same, because the clothes she’s grabbed slip from suddenly nerveless fingers and land on Icy’s chest.
“Oh fuck.” Riven breathes.
“Please tell me one of you jackasses knows how those planets died.” Darcy pleads.
Cloud Tower presses against her mind. It’s an attempt to be comforting. And - typically, it would be, but the silence ringing in her dorm room is just -
“This makes far too much sense.” Icy says quietly, and then slaps her hands over her eyes.
“I - look. I got you two out of there in time - but it left my magical signature all over the fucking place. So you two are safe. They’ll be looking for a wizard. Just because we know it’s all connected - they don’t.” He’s trying to be comforting, and that’s sweet, except that -
“You live with a fucking wizard we all know is there to spy on you. How the actual fuck do you think you’re going to keep yourself hidden?”
“The more important question is if Helia’s after the Dragon Fire or just the - the knowledge.” Bloom says quietly. And that’s really the real question; if Riven’s kept himself hidden from Saladin himself, there’s no real substantial risk that he’ll somehow get caught by the pretty-boy idiot he’s got spying on his squad.
“No, the more important question is do we go.” Stormy says, and they all turn to look up at her. She taps one of her maps with a nail.
“Domino’s here. I can chart us a course. We can go. And if this Daphne bitch told you that’s where we’ll find more answers, I’m inclined to say yes.”
“What do you mean yes.”
“Three witches, five fairies? Two to four specialists? What the fuck could possibly stop us? Place is marked as dead - so it isn’t like there’s anything there that could fuck with us.”
“That’s just factually incorrect.” Darcy deadpans, and everyone’s attention swings to her.
“Oh - not the - not the part about us handling it. But dead planets breed the most adorable types of dark creatures. There’s a reason no one has recolonized any of the dead planets.” Actually, she wouldn’t mind going if she could keep a couple of the beasties. They’ve room for it, since they dismissed Knut.
“…Dead planets wouldn’t accumulate dark creatures if they’d simply faded or passed on naturally, right? Because natural deaths don’t leave behind deposits of negative emotion or power.” Bloom asks hesitantly. She’s reciting from a textbook, Darcy recognizes. One of her old ones. She’d been wondering where it’d gotten to.
“…So. They’re all…murdered planets?” Riven asks. The silence that brings is even greater than the last.
“I don’t understand how no one else has put this together yet. All the pieces are right there.” Icy says quietly.
And that there is what Darcy finds the most disconcerting about all of this. They may be grasping at straws and letting fear force them into jumping to conclusions, but the fact of the matter is they should not be the only ones to have noticed this. Their assumptions should not make so much sense.
Mother had been spelled to subtly redirect resources away from magical research that went any deeper than the surface. Zenith is and always has been at the forefront of magical research - but it’s not the only homeworld that thinks academia a worthwhile pursuit. The only way this could have been hidden was if every other homeworld did the same - even Linphea dedicates a frankly shocking amount of resources towards experimental healing magic, which they absolutely wouldn’t if Linphea knew about the apparent ban. Linphea above all other planets does not rock the boat.
“Not to entirely change the subject, but to entirely change the subject - how fucking old am I?”
“Wait, what?”
“Bloom I swear I will fucking end you - “
“No, Icy, wait, what the fuck do you mean how old are you?”
“If I was around when Domino fucking died - “
“You time traveled?” Darcy asks, strangled, because that is the most stupid, ridiculous -
No, actually. She’s - she’d been too caught up on the Dragon Fire thing to actually think about logistics -
“Daphne said she kinda just. Tossed me somewhere I’d be safe? And I guess. That was the future.”
“Alright fuck this I’m going to bed.” Stormy declares, and surges to her feet. That prompts Darcy to summon her phone and groan aloud.
They’ve got class in the morning.
“That’s probably a good idea. We’ll just keep panicking all night if we talk about it.” Riven sounds like he’s about to start panicking about it anyway.
Ah. Finally something Darcy can do.
She flicks her fingers out and hisses a sharp curse, and a glowing rune blazes to life above their heads. A heartbeat later - everybody else yelps. Music to her hears, as a good third of the emotion in the room drains right out.
“What’d you do?”
“Banned some negative emotions. No one is having nightmares tonight. You owe me. You can share Icy’s bed.” It’s not technically an accurate description, but it’s accurate enough. Panic, fear, stress - she’s strong enough to hold up a block against those in her sleep.
Bloom looks right up at the sigil anyway. Icy starts the laborious process of peeling herself off the ground and changing into dry clothes; Stormy darts to the closet and starts yanking things out from her stash of extra bedding - the heathen refuses to use sheets, but she’s got enough pillows and blankets stuffed away to put a fairy to shame.
For her part, Darcy face-plants on her bed and flexes her fingers until she feels Riven’s weight settle next to her; in a few minutes they are once again curled up together.
“Sorry for waking you up. I was expecting that to be uh, less messy.” Riven’s voice is soft, barely audible. Darcy makes mental grabby hands, and latches onto his aura the moment he relaxes the barriers he usually keeps up.
“’S Icy. Shit’s always messy with her.” Darcy mutters. Riven snorts into her hair. Somebody - Stormy, probably - slaps the lights off. Somebody else groans in protest.
“She’d like you. All of you.” Riven breathes, some time later, so quietly that Darcy almost doesn’t register hearing it. She’s too fucking tired to deal with any more emotions - there is a rune on the ceiling for a reason - but she does fumble around until she finds his hand.
When she squeezes it, he presses a smile to the crown of her head.