From the Ashes of Victory: The Complete Series, page 145
part #0 of From the Ashes of Victory Series
The demonstration complete, neither of them moved to separate their hands.
"Do you see what I mean? You needn't increase your power if you can harness what you already have to do more work. Your Manifest could be used to do more than blast or melt. It could cut. Very effectively, by my estimation."
Katya looked down her arm at Victoria with a slight faraway look in her eye. "Cut… what?" she asked eventually.
"The longer the exposure time, the closer the number of substances capable of withstanding it approaches zero."
Her eyes suddenly snapping into focus, Katya now wore a look that was much nearer. "That's not possible."
"It is. Would I have brought it up to you otherwise? Would you care to see the maths I did?" Victoria said without offence. She knew how it sounded, because she'd said the same thing the same way when she was done calculating it. Then she'd done it again and gone for a long walk afterward.
Katya's fingernails were unpainted as a precaution against serving as an accelerant to accidental arson, but she stared down at them like they'd turned into talons that suddenly made her wary of touching anything for fear of gutting it. "Like Niamh's?"
"Perhaps the word 'cut' was misleading. A sewing needle doesn't 'cut' fabric, does it? 'Penetrate' might be more accurate. Pierce. Puncture. Perforate. Punch through."
"Are those just the 'P' words?" Katya asked.
"It is odd, yes, though etymology is not my strong suit. Forgoing the creation of an orb, which you have ample experience with already, perhaps starting with a type of beam would better illustrate my meaning. One of your serpent constructs, only constricted."
Katya was still a moment as she considered. "Puncturing is a type of cutting. I would just have to move it sideways."
"True. But this is the best solution I could come up with that does not involve simple raw power. I respect your fear of it, and acknowledge the sense in not developing that aspect of your gift further. If you wish to pursue a different skill to aid your training, I will give the prospect further consideration."
As Katya thought, Victoria realised she was still holding Katya's hand. Though something as hot as molten lead had been in it only moments before, her skin was cool to the touch. Her fingers had always been delicate, but were so in a slender way now, unlike when they had first met when she was suffering the effects of malnutrition.
It wasn't the first time Victoria had held them, but the first in which she felt no impulse to stop. It seemed that they had been doing so often as of late, and Victoria couldn't deny the reassurance she took from it. Or the rightness. Katya's experiences prior to coming to England had been horrific and scarring, literally and figuratively, making physical contact difficult for her. Now, Katya seemed to have even forgotten that they were touching.
Or perhaps not.
"Do you need my hand for this lesson, Doctor?" Katya asked. There was light in her eyes, but no sign of magic or lightning.
"I do not," Victoria replied without doing anything about it. "I was marvelling. I've been too long focussed on schooling and EVE, and failed to notice your remarkable personal progress. Your affections lately have been much more tactile than before, and I believe this is the longest you've ever been able to stand touching me."
Katya looked down at their hands. "Anyone."
The barest frisson, sublime in it subtlety, spidered up Victoria's spine, making her draw in a sharp breath. Had Katya's words caused it? Or the look in her eyes? Unable to determine its source, Victoria let the sensation sit with her a moment before she broke its spell by speaking into the silence her reaction had engendered. "I'm honoured."
"It couldn't be anyone else." Katya's voice was barely above a whisper, and even at less than an arm's length apart, Victoria had barely heard it. But she had.
"Katya?"
With a violent shake of her head, Katya withdrew her hand and smoothed down her hair, then her sleeves. "I don't think I can do this."
"It's all right, we can—"
"No, we can't! I…" Katya cast about in near-desperation, but whatever it was she sought, found no purchase. "I'm sorry."
With that, Katya fled away from the look on Victoria's face and into the storm.
Sunday morning saw the return of the sun. The River Great Ouse reflected it perfectly, a placid ribbon of glass through the heart of Bedford that only showed signs of movement when it carried something along with it, such as the ducks and geese gliding along in search of errant bread crumbs or a long narrow boat containing two people.
A witchscale rudder trailed along behind to ensure they didn't beach themselves or plonk into any of the trees that grew right up to the river's edge once they drifted out of town. The oars had been brought in, allowing the craft to move with the same lazy lack of motivation as the water, which suited Millie just fine.
"I'm glad we didn't try to do this yesterday," she said as she craned to look up at a sky showing the exact opposite opinion on outdoor activities it had held only hours earlier.
"Me too," Elise said, fingers curled around a glass of white wine as she looked out at the tall grass and the suggestion of hills beyond. Above was a sporadic canopy of boughs and little else, the storm having shooed away every cloud in central England.
Turning her attention back to her task, Millie finished slicing off another piece of cheese, using witchscale as both cutting board and utensil as she snaked the little morsel up to Elise's mouth.
"Thank you," she said after a few bites.
The only thing left in their picnic basket after that was a pair of apples, and they were being saved for the trip back. It had been a light lunch, just enough to tide them over and hopefully keep them from getting seasick. The warm weather and the wine might overcome that precaution, but as the de facto captain, Millie had only allowed herself one glass anyway.
She trailed a fingertip through the water and watched sparkling diamonds slip off, the sounds of the drips audible in the serene quiet. "I think this is the farthest the two of us have been from other people since our last holiday."
"You may be right. It is a pity you must drive the boat," Elise said, eyes sparkling as much as the surface of the water.
"I think being capsized would probably spoil the mood. Being out here is better for talking, anyway."
Finishing her wine, Elise put her glass back in the basket and closed the flap. Still leaning forward, she set her chin in her hand atop her knee. "About what, my Millie?"
Though the skies were clear, thunder pounded in Millie's ears at the question, and it took a moment to realise it was her heart. "About us. I have some questions I'd like to ask you."
Elise's eyelashes fluttered. "Anything, my love."
Millie took a bracing breath. "No-one in the world knows me better than you. I feel that, for the past ten years, a part of you has lived inside me."
"And you within me."
"Aye. Right here," Millie said with her hand on her heart.
"Yes. You are always here with me, no matter how far you go." Elise tapped her chest in the same place. "Always."
Tethering the glowing white rudder to her back, Millie leaned across the boat and brushed a hand against Elise's temple. "What about in here? Could you really live with me inside your mind?"
Elise reached up and placed her hand over Millie's. "You already do. Since the day we met, you have been in my thoughts. I cannot escape you. I do not want to."
"I'm serious. Like Carice did?"
The glitter left Elise's eyes, her smile dimmed. The dreamy look she'd worn up to now awoke to a bucket of cold water tossed from over three hundred years in the past. "I did not ever think our wedding would be so intimate. To join our minds is…" she searched her thoughts, but the words wouldn't come, in English or in French. "Mental magic is… strange. It takes a toll on Svetlana and Carice. I do not think they are always happy to have their Manifests."
Millie nodded. "They can hear everyone. Maybe only hearing me would be worse."
Laughing softly, Elise kissed the inside of Millie's hand. "Or the best thing that has ever happened. There was great happiness in Carice's life. Even if it was briefly."
"Would you take that chance? With me?"
"My Millie, it is no chance at all. I could do nothing else than spend the rest of my life with you. If the worst should happen, it cannot hurt more than it already will. But to say no to this chance would make the time in between less joyful. I would rather risk and regret than not risk and wonder."
Elise's eyes began to shimmer, and then the entire world, until Millie blinked again. "You're sure? Absolutely sure?"
"Yes, my love. Of course." Elise's brow pinched. "I must ask you now: are you certain?"
Millie already knew her answer; she had since the day she'd taken a curious glance out the window and ended up nearly falling down the stairs just to be the one to take Elise's bags out of the cab when she arrived at ADAM. "More than anything in my life. I've waited too long and love you too fiercely to give the world a chance to stop us from being as happy as we deserve to be."
She sat back to take in fully the most important thing in her life.
That would ever be.
Reaching into her waistcoat, she hooked a delicate golden thread with her finger and drew it out. When it popped fully free, hanging from it was a silver ring.
Millie slid from her seat onto both knees and held it up for Elise to see as it spun, glinting rays of sunlight from above and below.
"Elise Cotillard, will you marry me?"
Tears spattered their knees as Elise frantically tried to blink them away. "Yes!"
She reached down to wipe away a tear from Millie's cheek as the necklace was fastened around her slender neck. When it was done, Millie held the ring a moment before letting it drop over Elise's heart.
"No second thoughts now."
"Ma chérie, I did not need a first," Elise said and pulled them together to seal their decision with a kiss, and the feeling of absolute rightness coursed out to her fingertips as they wrapped trembling around Elise's.
Within Elise's sky-blue eyes was the same feeling reflected back, so strong Millie could see it. A lifetime of denial shattered, replaced by abject beauty and a certainty that made her want to weep as much as it made her want to cry to the heavens and parade it before the entire world, daring it to undo their choice.
Her life before Elise felt so hollow and empty, and every moment since full to the point of bursting. Young Millie would never have believed such a feeling was even possible, to say nothing of experiencing it herself. More than even love, it was fulfilment that made her unable to look away from her beloved, as if they had closed a loop that they hadn't even known was open.
From the second a lanky Scot had set eyes on a would-be witch from the far-away, exotic land of France, she had daydreamed about this moment. It had been utterly fanciful, the idle dreams of the recently besotted. After they had admitted their love for one another, Millie had raged against the injustice of it having to remain a dream through no fault of their own, even if their feelings would have allowed it.
Now it was a dream no more. Thirteen years after the fateful day that had brought them together, they were going to stay together, and the world that had wanted only to keep them apart wasn't going to have a say in it any longer.
Elise ran her thumb under the chain to get a closer look at the ring. It was a simple band with no gemstone, one that wouldn't attract attention or get in the way of a doctor's hands. They knew what it meant, and so too would the people who cared about them. It was everything they needed it to be, everything that shone in Elise's eyes.
"I love you, Millie."
"I love you, too."
The dreamlike haze of Millie's euphoria faded as they approached a bend in the river, forcing her attention away from Elise and onto not crashing.
"So how are we going to tell everyone?" Millie asked as the world asserted itself again.
Elise considered a moment. "Victoria and Ivy must know we have decided for certain. We have more to ask of them than anyone, so they must be first. The others… I have an idea."
Millie looked out to the river ahead, to where it curved away into somewhere entirely new and unseen. To the overhanging branches that would keep the worst of the sun off of them, but also to the rocks that just poked out above the surface, hinting at dangers invisible.
But for all that, the path was clear, the flow in a single direction: forward.
Though bigger than any gymnasium, Victoria still felt the Hall was too small to contain her emotions and her magic. She had learned to harness both in the expanse of The Shed, and had grown used to having so much space to work with. Now, while still quite a lot, it didn't give her the same rush, the same sense of limitless potential that The Shed had. No matter what she'd tried there, it had always seemed that there was more space, more distance to push, and less to hit.
Now, she felt she might as well have consigned herself to doing it in a closet.
As the pulsing inertia of Mozart's Symphony No. 25 drove itself against her ears, so she drove herself against gravity and the intrinsic cohesion of the fundamental building blocks of existence.
Her clothing was tight against her skin, every square inch gripping her evenly as she stood astride a platform of naught but willpower and magic. The mass of the Earth worked feebly to bring her down again, but she defied this desire utterly, every tug making her wish the ceiling was higher so she could do so even more emphatically.
Around the dark star of the Raven orbited not a library this time, but a swirling maelstrom of scrap iron shards.
Mostly.
Half of it had been sundered into aluminium already, which was exactly half the atomic weight. Splitting atoms even as she split her attention was dangerous. The energies involved were considerable, but she needed something to occupy the entirety of her mind lest she give it the opportunity to do something even more potentially destructive: think. Whatever fears she had about the nature of her research were silenced as she indulged the basest aspects of them, tearing apart iron nuclei and transmuting them to aluminium in the atomic alchemy that she alone was capable of without catastrophic consequences.
Others might have gone for a walk, punched something or plunged to the bottom of a bottle. The Raven took her talons to the natural laws that governed the world and shredded them to suit her whim. She didn't want to indulge this aspect of herself, but it was her shadows that were defining her contours at the moment, not the light she had so been looking forward to basking in when Katya had come with her request.
In the unspeakable incandescence of the Firebird, the Raven had managed to find the darkest shadows, driving her to seek solitary refuge in the vigorous exercise of her magic. Replicating what she had done in her nightmare hadn't been as difficult as she had thought it was going to be; until now she had only been suffering a lack of imagination rather than ability.
Ripping, tearing, all words Victoria had despised when attached to her discoveries and theories; now they were the only ones for what she was doing—what she had done, physically and emotionally.
It was what she was good at.
The air around her roiled with the heat of the energies she was unleashing even as she worked to cool it, gravity pulling at her as she defied it. Iron wanted to stay at rest, not fly into orbit around this strange, dark mistress; it wanted even less to be snapped in half, protesting fiercely against such radical, fundamental change.
The Raven didn't listen.
Faster it flew, higher she rose, the more intense the war for temperature equilibrium raged, and she gloried in forcing her fears to submit. At least, the ones she could control.
With her eyes closed in concentration and her ears swelling with Mozart, she had no idea she was no longer alone until it was too late.
"Oi, Vickie!"
Snapped violently from of her focus, the swirling tornado of metal became an explosive cloud of shrapnel, every piece shooting off straight with the loss of her control. She thudded hard to the ground, and only just managed to yank back control before they tore everything around her to ribbons.
Breathing heavily, Victoria looked up to see Millie and Elise shrouded in witchscale, a shiny chunk of aluminium in the former's hand.
"Are you all right?" Victoria asked, pushing herself to her feet.
"Fine," Millie said. "Catch." She hurled the shapeless hunk of metal straight at Victoria, who caught it in her Manifest without thinking.
All around, the rest of the metal gravitated inwards toward their mistress like a litter of puppies, the disparate pieces of each metal solidifying into separate cubes that she set on either side of her as impromptu chairs. She tossed the last aluminium shard atop its matching cube, and it vanished like a stone beneath the surface of a four-sided pond.
"Was that a nightmare or did you try to kill us on purpose?" Millie asked.
Victoria tugged straight her tie and waistcoat with a little huff. "If my options are to be strictly binary, then it was the former. For those of us given to the rare indulgence of nuance however, it was neither."
Millie shared a look with Elise and the witchscale evaporated.
"Well, we had come out here to tell you something, but now the opposite is going to happen. Start talking, Doctor," Millie said.
Trapped opposite the rest of her Coven, Victoria had little room to manoeuvre without doing what Katya had done, only through a wall.
"Bull testicles," Victoria muttered, and collapsed onto the aluminium cube with her elbows on her knees.
"Was that a curse?" Elise asked.
Millie peered down at Victoria with a twisted smile that spoke of not-so secret pride. "Sounded like it was meant to be. Did you learn that at school, young lady?"
"Very funny," Victoria said, flicking a finger at the phonograph and bringing a halt to the music. "When are you leaving again?"
