Whirls of colors and meaningless shapes drifted in the air. They were pretty, in an odd way, but they seemed far less important than the brushes. Liquid gold was slowly being applied to Celia's fingers, for reasons that were probably very good but currently escaped her. She froze, trying to keep as still as possible to make the coating easier. Then, the gold hardened, and Celia couldn't feel her fingers anymore, but that was perfectly fine, the lovely voice in her ear telling her she was a pretty treasure told her so. Another brush laden with gold moved to seal away Celia's lips, and then everything faded to the darkness behind her eyes.

Returning to wakefulness was slow, an unusual experience for the warrior. Normally, her straw filled bed and cheap blanket gave no reason to linger, but this bed was like a cloud brought to earth. For a brief moment, Celia simply indulged, blissfully drowsing among the pillows. Eventually, though, her mind kicked into gear, and began going over yesterday's events. As she did, aches and pains began to make themselves known. Some were pleasant, or at least familiar, but others were less so.

She groaned as her memories finally caught up to the cave in the forest. Gella had done it. She had her hooks in Celia's mind now. Even now, alone, in bed, she could feel the shape of what had been placed into her mind. Two snaps from Gella's fingers. It loomed just beyond her reach, impossible to stop, a trap ready to close around her thoughts. Could she stop it? She could cover her ears... no, she couldn’t keep that up full time. Plug them with wax? Possible, but would be too obvious, and would be a hindrance in general. Deafening herself? No, however much she wanted to be free, maiming herself was out of the question. And she still didn’t know if even the sight of the snaps would work. Something told her it would, and that would make even cutting out her ears useless.

Either way, she needed to eat. She couldn’t do this on an empty stomach. What would Tabby be serving for breakfast, again? Pancakes? She didn’t know what those were, but...

She winced. Only a day in, and I’m already getting complacent. Yes, the food would be delicious, but the cost would be far, far too high. But... she couldn’t just starve. Delaying it might give her more time to plan, but that was made difficult by her growing hunger. She hesitated, unsure what to do.

The choice was taken out of her hands a moment later, though. The door opened, and Gella stepped through carrying a covered plate. “Breakfast, Celia,” she announced.

Unlike last night, the mage once again looked immaculate. Her hair had been brushed to a metallic gleam, hanging loosely over a simple red dress that showed off her figure spectacularly. Looking at Gella’s body, Celia found her thoughts wandering to what the mage looked like naked. She winced on instinct, then froze. There hadn’t been an impulse to lock that image away. No pain, no confusion... she had lived four years that way, and while she didn’t welcome the pain, now she just... didn’t? 

“You look like a woman with a lot on her mind,” Gella said evenly, beckoning Celia to the reading desk, which she set the plate on, pulling out a chair from the no-place for her to sit on.

The warrior reluctantly joined her. Once the cover was removed, the necessity of resisting the mage was forgotten for a moment. Some sort of round pastries, coated with a dark syrup, were stacked in front of her. And the smell... Celia had to stop herself from drooling. Had Tabby baked these fresh? Despite herself, she managed to pull together enough will to be suspicious. 

“So. Will this make me too sleepy to resist you, too drugged to care, or so horny I beg?” she asked pointedly. “Or are we talking all three? Because if we are, I think you haven’t thought it through.”

Gella just chuckled chidingly. “I agree. There would be little point to that. But, if it gives you some comfort...” she trailed off, grabbing a knife and fork from that same no-place, and using it to cut off a piece of the top pastry. She brought the fork to her mouth, sighing with satisfaction. “So, are you convinced it isn't poisoned? Or do I need to take more?”

Celia nodded, somewhat perturbed by the friendly attitude the mage was affecting. She handed Celia the fork and knife, not even bothering to clean them. But instead of that prompting a painful flare, it just made her think... what would it be like to take those lips directly? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. It was... strange. Strange to be thinking those things.

She brought the fork to her lips, took a bite, then gasped. The ‘pancakes’ were soft and spongy and nice, and the syrup was rich and decadently sweet. Forget food for kings; this was divine fare.. 

She was distracted by a tiny pop from behind her. She turned behind her, gaping at the mage, who was turning her head side to side. 

“You have magical doors, magical baths, and magic to control minds, but you can't magic yourself out of a stiff neck?” she asked incredulously.

A silver eyebrow arched at Celia's question. “Who says I can't?” she smiled mysteriously, before shifting to a much warmer gaze. “Though that does bring me to what I came in here for.” She shifted to look into Celia's eyes. “Keeping you in the dark about my plans for you was not the best choice. For that, I apologize.”

Celia blinked with the fork halfway to her lips. Lowering it back down, she was struck again by just how human Gella could be. When the mage wished, she was an absolute force of personality, and that wasn’t even considering the unearthly air of a mage in their element. Other times, she was a commanding lover, soft but only towards those she chose, impossible to even approach for others. Then, at other times, she was perfectly pleasant, approachable, even normal. 

“Gella,” she began, finishing another pancake and setting the plate aside for the moment. “Then tell me exactly what you want to do with me. No games, no charms, no messengers, no tricks.”

The mage met her eyes, and Celia could see her weighing the demand in her mind. Finally, she nodded. 

“Alright, Celia. It will be easiest to simply show you.” She gestured for Celia to stand, leading her over to the mirror. “Sgailean airgid, dealbh mor,” she incanted, and the glass rippled. Before Celia could react, Gella shook her head. “It's a spell to create moving images. Nothing more.” To prove her point, she stood in front of the glass as the image resolved itself, and began to explain.

“I am going to make you my champion. A warrior, trained by the best I have at my disposal, which - as you’ve seen - is considerable. You would be my guard when I go on research trips, my standard-bearer in tournaments, and my bodyguard, when I need it.” As she spoke, the Celia in the mirror took a step back, and the image zoomed out. She took in the sight of herself, wearing practical gear of smooth black cotton. With everything she had seen so far, this magic seemed almost mundane. What was a moving painting compared to commanding space itself? Still, it was fascinating to watch her own reflection move. 

Mirror Celia raised her hand, and with a shimmery glitter of pale blue fog, armor seemed to coalesce from nowhere onto her body. Not the steel breastplate and mail she currently owned, but a suit of geometric plate armor, softly glowing with an unnatural sapphire blue. The crest of a crossed staff and sword in front of a tower on a green background shimmered into existence on her back. Mirror Celia did a little spin, showing off how well it fit - impossibly so, the armor didn’t seem like it had any way to remove it, besides whatever magic had summoned it to begin with. In her counterpart’s hand, a sword - her sword - shimmered into existence. But it was different. Sigils and marks were etched into the blade and hilt by a precise hand, the depressions filled with other metals and resins. Celia's own knowledge of magic was lacking, she knew, but her mirror wielded the blade with ease and familiarity, and at her touch, the sigils flared to life.

Watching herself clad in armor that looked as though it hadn’t been crafted by mortal hands, and with how perfectly and effortlessly her counterpart wore it, Celia couldn’t help but feel a powerful desire for that. Before, she had to claw for everything she had, and what had it gotten her? A rickety uncomfortable bed in a poor section of the city, enough money to keep herself fed, her armor mostly taken care of, and precious little else. Recalling her selection of books and personal trinkets in the trunk back at New Gyr brought on a tiny feeling of loss, yes. But a tiny yet ever-growing part of her, the traitorous part that was considering the deal, pointed out that Celia hadn't even asked if she could get her things back.

The mage wasn't done, though, and the mirror Celia stopped her weapons practice, standing stock-still. The armor shifted back to ethereal fog, and a puff of black went with it, revealing the blonde's naked body. The woman in the mirror was similar enough to the woman watching, but a few differences were key. Mirror Celia was more toned, but retained some softness in places. Her tummy wasn't all hard ridges of muscle, but had the subtle indication she’d seen on Violet instead. Her legs carried her with both strength and poise, accentuated when the mirror girl stood perfectly on one foot, then on a single toe of that foot, looking completely unfazed. As her counterpart moved, Celia noticed a few other changes. The soft downy hair between her legs was absent. In fact, below her eyebrows, the mirror Celia seemed as smooth and soft as the rest of Gella's treasures had been. 

Gella's voice shocked Celia out of her fascination with her own preening reflection. “Pleasure is part of my household, Celia. My treasures and I share our bodies, together or separately, with no jealousy to spoil that. And I would very much like to enjoy every inch of your body, Celia.”

“I...” Words failed her, and she shied away from Gella. Her strength was in her sword arm, her footwork, her stance. She knew the path to take, the way to strike to best exploit another’s guard. But this was a battle she was wholly unprepared for. The four years she had spent as a mercenary had been blessedly free of... entanglements. She frowned, having expected something to react to that thought, but again, nothing. Only the mildest rumble of discontent. Her time before had been... she shook her head. Even without the pain, the past was best left alone. 

“Celia?” Gella asked. She opened her eyes, finding the mage had paused, and was now looking at her curiously. 

“I...” she clamped her mouth shut. Gella was trying to trick her, no doubt. Make her question herself with pretty words. If she could just gather her thoughts... she needed to run, to retreat, to... 

“Take a deep breath, Celia,” Gella whispered softly into her ear. Calm, cool, collected. She found herself obeying, filling her lungs, then slowing breathing out. She needed to... ”Again. Deep breath, now. Good girl.” Praise mixed with the ebbing feeling of panic, letting it all out with her breath. It was so easy to just follow along. “One more time,” Gella's voice urged her on, and she took one more deep breath, letting the accumulated panic stream away. Celia's mind felt quiet, but not muted. Somehow, despite her thoughts having emptied, her mind had sharpened. 

“A spell?” she asked, surprised at how meek her voice was. She tried again, but she couldn’t come up with the words before Gella shook her head. 

“No. You were just getting a little lost in your own mind.”

Celia took a moment to reflect on that. Getting lost in her own mind. Before yesterday she would have scoffed and carried on. Her mind was solid, and stable and... and full of places she had been shoving things or hiding things. Full of kindling she’d made of her feelings. “Gella...” she trailed off, and the mage looked at her patiently, understanding. “I... I figured all of that, when you showed off the other girls, but..?” She tapped her forehead with two fingers. Gella nodded, guiding Celia to look back at the mirror.

“You're scared of what will happen to your mind,” Gella said, voice surprisingly gentle. The mage gestured once more toward the mirror while Celia found herself nodding. “Scared I'm going to take everything you are, and make you something you aren't.” Mirror Celia suddenly perked up, then relaxed, a look of complete peace overtook her.

“Trance,” Celia whispered softly. Gella nodded silently, watching as mirror Celia moved with a sleepwalker's grace to lay down on a bed very similar to the one Celia herself had just woken up from. The woman in the mirror seemed to have no worries, no fears, not a care in the world, and Celia felt a pang of longing.

“You look just as peaceful when you slip under, Celia,” Gella said in a soothing voice. The warrior swallowed and blinked, watching her mirror self drift in a trance. She could remember how it felt while awake, but in the way she could remember a dream. Faint ideas, vague memories. Pleasure brushing her body, comforting solid words she could follow. Follow and obey. “The fey had you under their spell, your mind an open book for them,” Gella continued smoothly. “Do you feel any less like Celia now, after they took you?”

Celia let her mind drift away from the here and now. She remembered it all. The music in the woods. Mary asking for her name so cheerfully, and the feeling of something changing when she gave it. How Mary, and then Samuel had toyed with her. They were gentle and soft with her, a rarity in her life. They had made sure she was comfortable, that she wasn't afraid, and it had been extremely enjoyable. They had realized she disliked magical control, and had relented. Even when they had fully ensnared her mind, they did so with good intentions, letting her just feel the indigos and violets of pleasure that sex could bring without overthinking it. They let her feel happy with herself. They let her ignore that door. She shook her head at Gella's question. “No. I'm still me,” she whispered, eyes locked on her mirror self. The woman in the mirror was so calm, so deeply relaxed. Celia barely noticed that she had matched her breathing to her counterpart, slow, deep, and utterly at peace.

“Still you,” Gella agreed. “Just without all that tension and fear keeping you from enjoying yourself.” After a moment the mage’s voice shifted. “Nox,” she intoned, and the mirror returned to showing Celia her own reflection. Blinking slowly, Celia resurfaced, feeling almost like she...

“You hypnotized me?” she accused, but there wasn’t any bite in it.

Gella sighed. “Yes and no. You went into trance, yes, but I didn’t hypnotize you. There are... gradients to these things. The mind rarely is black and white. You had started to slip under, in that panic. And if you're going to trust me, I think taking advantage of a vulnerability like that would be a poor way to start.”

“Trust you?” Celia asked, bemused. “You kidnapped me, Gella.” She gestured around the room. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, it's a beautiful prison, and I couldn't ask for a more comfortable cell.” She brushed a finger over her collar. “But I can't trust you as long as I’m your prisoner. Unless you make me. But that wouldn’t still be me. I don’t think so, at least.” 

Gella looked thoughtful at that. She pulled her chair over, then gestured towards the empty chair. Celia sat, meeting her eyes with a determined look. “I see,” she said. “So, it's just the collar then? After all, you are free to come and go as you please, Celia.” A thought seemed to occur to the mage. “I can see the collar as being...” she paused, as if searching for the right word. “Hasty.” She chuckled sardonically. “I really am making a pig's ear out of taming you, aren't I?”

The sheer absurdity of the woman that had captured her asking for her opinion about her own enslavement made Celia’s lips quirk up in amusement. “So... Are you going to take it off?” she asked hopefully.

Gella nodded, surprising Celia. “Oh, are you done with your food?” she asked absently. Celia nodded, and without an incantation, Gella slipped the plate into her no-space. 

“Alright, how are you doing that?” Celia asked. “You aren't casting a spell. I don’t know much about magic, but unless you have a symbol or a word...”

The mage held up her hand, gesturing to her ring. It looked ordinary enough, a simple gold band with a tiny red gem inset. “This ring has a space the size of a large room attached to it. Very handy for storing things like leftovers to take back downstairs, or a warehouse full of crates,” she added with a wink. “I'll be back in a moment.”

After she left, Celia reached up to rub her temple, trying to soothe away some of what was bothering her. She would be a fool to trust Gella about this. She knew that. Kidnapping her, dulling her will, collaring her... she had done nothing to earn an ounce of trust. Kidnapped but free to leave at any time, able to dull my will but choosing not to, and apparently being willing to take the collar off, she remembered with a fresh wave of conflicted emotion.

After dressing in fresh clothes, the nightgown went into a basket with yesterday's clothes in it, and Celia had enough time to use the porcelain devices to clean herself in the other room. She had just washed her hands, and was marveling at how even that was made considerably better with magic, when Gella returned. “I had a few moments to think, Celia. You have options,” she said kindly.

She reached into that no-place, drawing out a thin silver bracelet, a paintbrush, a pot of some dark inky substance, and a crystal much like the one she had been speaking into after she’d used her rapier. “This,” she tapped the small circlet with her finger, “is much the same as your collar. A focus I can scry, allowing me to know your location and see your surroundings. It, like the collar, cannot be removed without magic.”

Celia smiled despite herself. She wasn’t sure if Gella had noticed, but the moment her magic had been brought up, the mage had sat up in her chair, her voice carrying a tinge of excitement. She was still effortlessly in control, and still near perfectly poised, but her passion for her art was obvious.

“This next option is much less visible,” Gella continued, holding up the paintbrush and ink pot. “This is a mixture of athercyte dust, spectral ink, and some mundane black dye. I can inscribe my personal rune on your body. Once the dye dries, I can locate and scry on you without a separate focus. The black dye is just for my benefit while applying the rune - once it’s dry, you can wash it off, leaving the mark only visible to mage sight.” Lastly, she tapped the crystal. “Now, if you don't want me to be able to locate you and scry on you, I understand. However, that limits the freedom I'm comfortable giving you. As you learned, ignorance can get you into trouble, and while the fey you met are mostly benevolent, not everyone I have dealings with are nearly as kind. In that case, I'll take you into a trance, and make you perfectly content to remain on the grounds unless you have an escort.”

“What's the crystal have to do with that?” Celia asked carefully. “I thought that you just needed to...” she raised her fingers, miming a snap.

“Well, I figured you would want some idea of what I was slipping into your mind. This recording crystal would allow you to listen to the trance back in the future,” Gella explained. “Though I’d have to make sure that hearing me snap through the crystal didn’t affect you, too...”

Celia let her eyes roam over each one. Gella had clearly put thought into this. Both the collar and the rune would give her an infinitely long leash, but a leash nonetheless. The idea of Gella making her into a house pet was even worse though, especially with the implication she’d be entirely content with it. The image of herself with Tabby's ears and tail, lounging in the sun flashed across her mind. Not the worst of fates, no, but that would mean complacency, and that was death for a warrior. That left the collar and the rune, and... she sighed. You're already giving ground, she chastised herself. “What if I don't want any of them? You want me as your champion, fine. Even living here so I can train, I could live with. This is where the swordmaster and smith are. And finding me, sure, but even spying on me, and always knowing my location...”

Gella smiled softly, pointing out the window. “I said the fey you met were mostly benevolent, but that is something of a misrepresentation. They believe themselves to be acting in the best interests of mortals, but often have... differing ideas of what those interests are. They only let you go because I forced them, Celia. If I hadn't arrived, they would still have your mind in the palm of their hand, and called it a kindness.” Pointing back at Celia, she continued. “The second reason is much more simple. I want to. I want to be able to know where you are, and find you at my leisure. I would rather not force you to accept that, but you know I could.”

That stirred Celia's ire, and she glanced over to where her sheathed blade was lying. It was only steps away... but before she could grab it, Gella's eyes had followed her gaze. “Tarraing,” she incanted, and the scabbard and blade flew into her outstretched hand before the warrior could reach it. She held it opposite the hand that held the ring, and Celia's heart thundered for a moment, thinking the mage would banish it again. Instead, she simply flipped it over so the hilt was towards Celia.

Taking her blade back with confusion, she glanced from mage to items on the table and back again. Standing up and belting on her blade, Celia nodded toward the bracelet. “If I ran, would you come after me, or at least send people after me?” she asked flatly.

Gella simply nodded once.

“And even assuming I could get this thing off, Mary - er, Deborah - has my True Name now. You found her using her Name. She would be able to find me the same way?” Celia asked. She felt she knew the answer, but it was best to confirm Gella’s willingness to share.

Again, Gella nodded once before speaking. “She might lose interest. She is fey, after all, flighty as the summer breeze.” She leaned forward, and Celia felt small under her sudden interest. “Why do you want to run away so badly, Celia? What is waiting for you back in New Gyr? A tiny room above a candle maker? A guild that doesn't deserve your talents? I did do my due diligence, once I took you in.”

“Freedom,” Celia countered easily. “Freedom to make my own choices. Freedom to fail or succeed on my own.”

“Ah, yes. Freedom to waste your potential on things that don’t deserve you. Freedom to pick from among the options from a stacked deck,” Gella replied coolly. “But I see your point.” Withdrawing one of those strange writing implements and a sheet of parchment from her no-space, she began to write something. “Deborah told me what you had said last night. That if I had simply offered the amenities of Cair Dwemor to you, you would have accepted in a heartbeat. Even including the liaison with me. Is that correct?”

Celia sat back defensively, frowning. “That's at least mostly right. Maybe not the relationship with you, but I would be a fool not to go for the training opportunity alone. The sex, and the messing with my mind... that's something else entirely.” Celia could almost see the comment she had made last night about gorgeous girls ready to spring from Gella's lips, but the mage only shrugged.

“Then let us start with that. A one year exclusivity contract. A year of your services as my champion and my bodyguard. In payment for these services you'll get room and board here at Cair Dwemor as well as training from all here qualified. That includes me, my brother, swordmaster Larion, and my treasures. As part of this contract, you would agree to exposing your mind to my magic via trance or spells with your permission when you stand to benefit, or when rescue is required, as well as a tracking enchantment of your choice.” She lifted up the parchment, showing those terms set out in a formal contract.

Celia mulled that over, and was shocked to find herself honestly considering it. Room and board at a palace like Gella's manor alone would be a king’s ransom. “Some ground rules about putting me in a trance,” she said cautiously, “It gets recorded every time you do, and I can play it back anytime. You make sure those recordings do not cause me to enter trance again.”

“Done,” Gella said easily, writing those terms down.

“Second, you only use mental magic on me with my explicit permission. I know that trances aren’t technically magic, though I’m not sure of the difference, so I’ll specify that includes putting me in a trance too,” Celia said, feeling more confident.

“I will make every reasonable effort to obtain your permission. However, if, for example, you get enthralled by the fey again, I won't hesitate to reclaim your mind.”

Celia thought over that for a long while. “Fine,” she finally agreed. “Now how do I know you'll honor these terms?”

Gella frowned, considering that for a moment. “You don't. I will freely admit I have no fewer than ten different spells I could have used to make you agree, and that isn't including using my finger snaps.” She paused, then smiled softly. “This is where trust comes in. And I realize, somewhat deservedly, you don't trust me very much.” She spread her hands magnanimously. “So. What will it take to start building trust with you, Celia?”

The question shocked her. She wanted to build trust? There was no way she was being serious. And how could she trust... 

Wait. She knew a way to suppress mind magic.

“Well,” she began thoughtfully, “if you really do want me to trust you, to treat this like a contract offer you're saying it is? Then let me actually decide. Give me a way to get back to New Gyr, collect my stuff, and take some time to mull it over, and I'll decide on my own if I want to take you up on it. You know about... I think it’s called Sharpen Mind?” Gella nodded. “I only had one of those potions, and used it in our fight, but I know where I can get more. If, even with that, I decide to accept, I can take my name off the guild roster for the year. If I don’t, then you let me go.”

There was a tense silence in the room. The fact that Gella didn't immediately say no lifted Celia’s spirits a little. Finally, the mage held up her finger. “On the condition you take Lauren with you.”

Celia opened her mouth to object, but Gella cut her off. “Not to drag you back if you decide to leave, but to bring you back on her pegasus if you decide to accept.” She smiled at Celia’s confused expression. “We flew here while you were in a magical sleep. New Gyr is a week away by road. Over air, it's only six hours. You can stay overnight in the city and still return tomorrow, if you decide to,” Gella said evenly.

With that, she stood, placing the ink, brush, writing instrument, and contract all back into her no-place, leaving just the bracelet. She gestured for Celia to turn around, and fingers brushed the back of the warrior’s neck. The light weight of the collar fell away. “I can't do anything about the fey, mind you,” she warned. “They have your Name, and barring exceptions that are difficult to arrange, you cannot reclaim it from them. Lauren will be able to tell me if they charm you again, but if they stop her, too...” She trailed off, and Celia saw honest concern on Gella's face.

“I'll be careful, and I'll stay in the city center. Mary and Samuel would stick out like a sore thumb there,” Celia said, unsure why she was bothering to soothe Gella's concern. This might be the last time I see her. Why am I worried about that? she thought in bewilderment.

Her promise did seem to ease Gella's concerns though. “Will you wait to leave until Damian and his heralds return, at least?” she asked. “I would like to introduce you. I think you’ll get along.” A flash of unreadable emotion crossed Gella's face. “Oh, and... since we're speaking so openly? When I said he was on a hunt, that was something of a running joke between us. He's recruiting for some other operations I am involved in.”

Celia arched her eyebrow. “Like you recruited me?”

Gella snorted. “No, but I'm beginning to think I should have. Would have saved a lot of fuss. He's searching for people with specific skills. It will be easier to show you when he gets here.”

Celia hesitated. “When is he due back?” she asked cautiously.

“Within the hour. They just passed Cooper's Hollow, the town that marks the edge of this valley, and my domain.”

Celia mulled it over for a moment, then nodded. It would take her some time to get ready to travel anyways, and she couldn't see the harm in at least meeting Gella's brother before she left. Maybe she’d even get a spar in.

Celia knocked on Lauren’s door. “Coming!” the pinkette's cheerful voice sounded from inside. She opened the door, beaming at Celia before ushering her inside.

The room was surprisingly not the pink-as-her-hair nightmare Celia had been imagining. Instead, it was clean and spacious - luxuriously so, more than Celia’s own room, though not by much. She could see little touches of Lauren's life, trinkets on the dresser beneath the mirror, a small statue of the Lady of Mercy by her nightstand, sheets still rumpled from a night’s sleep, a few paintings on the wall that looked... she blinked. All in the same style, pretty and well-done, but not to the point of the luxurious excess she’d come to expect here. Did that mean... “Lauren, did you paint these yourself?”

The priestess looked over. “Oh! Yeah, I did,” she grinned happily. “Gella had the paints and stuff shipped in special so I could try.”

Spotting the little easel and supplies in the corner, Celia walked over frowning deeply. “That...” she sighed and rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to make things make more sense. “She bought you paints, and all this other stuff, because...” she trailed off, looking towards Lauren.

“Because I asked her to?” Lauren replied with equal confusion. “Well, yeah. I get bored sometimes, since I'm forbidden from wielding weapons, so I can’t practice with the others. The exercise helps sometimes, but I can't spend all day doing that.” Taking a seat, she tilted her head in confusion. “So, what can I help you with?” Lauren squinted at her, then her enchanted eyes went wide. “What happened to your pretty necklace? Did it break?”

Pretty necklace, Celia thought, dumbfounded. “Lauren, do you mean my collar?”

The priestess nodded, then got a far away look. “Oh! Okay! So we're going on a trip?”

Celia peered at Lauren oddly, before she remembered something from the previous day. Gella's voice had been clear as crystal, even as the rest of the world was swimming. She hadn't thought about it, just filing it away under magic, ignore for sake of sanity, but was it something more?. “So Gella can... what, communicate in your mind?”

“Yep!” Lauren beamed. “She worked some magic on all of us - well, me and Tabby and Vi, anyways. Damian too, I think?” She said looking thoughtful for a moment. “But yeah! It lets us talk to her or to each other from anywhere! Not anywhere anywhere, but, like... even reeeeally far away. She calls it mind to mind communication, and it’s an enchantment so it works for Vi even though she can’t use her ragira.”

“Ragira?” Celia asked, feeling a bit out of her depth.

“Like, the capacity to do magic,” Lauren explained cheerfully. “Energy! It has something to do with willpower. I don’t know the details, but Gella knows a looot.”

Celia took a seat, trying to absorb all of that information. Ragira. That's something I'm going to insist that Gella teaches me. If I decide to stay, she hastily amended.

Lauren pulled out a heavier dress and boots before tossing them on the bed and wiggling out of her dress. Celia watched with a heavy sigh, the casual nature of the action robbing Lauren’s naked body of most of its sexuality. “Shame just doesn't exist here, does it?” she said, more to herself than the priestess.

Lauren slipped on the dress, then cocked her head at Celia. “Why would it? I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Walking around naked as the day you were born isn’t embarrassing?” Celia smiled a little despite herself. The pinkette’s carefree attitude was very endearing. It was like she was an enormous friendly puppy that could speak, and hug, and... do other things.

Plopping on the bed to tug on socks and boots, Lauren just shook her head. “Nope!” She exclaimed. “I'm proud of my body! Maybe not quite as proud as Tabby, but...” she looked around conspiratorially before adding in a stage whisper, “she's a little strange.”

That made Celia laugh hard, which felt good after the strangeness of the morning. “You aren't exactly normal yourself, Lauren.” That earned her a quick beaming smile, which she returned.

Once Lauren was completely dressed, she grabbed a length of wood from below the vanity and looked back at Celia. “Blonde with blue eyes, or brunette with brown eyes?”

It only took a moment for Celia to connect the dots. “Well, glowing eyes and pink hair would stand out. Go with brunette and brown.” A part of her was just a little surprised at how quickly magic had become something she could just accept in her life. Enchanted trinkets were one thing, but back ho... Home, she thought with a sudden pang. Home, with nothing that rivaled even the smallest comfort or convenience of Cair Dwemor. Except there, I’ll be free. She expected that thought to fuel her conviction as it had earlier, but all that was left was a small, growing feeling of emptiness.

Coming back downstairs with a now disguised Lauren in tow, Celia could hear the hubbub of several people talking outside. Curious, she looked out the door to find a handful of men wearing well-maintained armor and carrying well-maintained weapons. They were marching into the courtyard, escorting a large wagon carrying several people of various races and species, who were talking animatedly with each other and the men in armor. Everyone seemed in high spirits. 

Gella burst out of the manor, not even seeming to notice Celia in her haste, and practically ran towards the figure at the front of the group with an expression of pure, unguarded happiness. The man in armor deftly caught the mage as she leapt toward him, pulling her into a hug. “Hey, spark,” he said, the affectionate tone seeming oddly metallic from inside his full-face helmet. So this had to be her brother, then. Setting Gella down, he reached up to undo the helmet, revealing a wide grin on an admittedly handsome face, topped with short-cropped silver hair. Definitely her brother. It appeared being unfairly attractive ran in the family.

“It's nice to be back home,” he sighed, before gesturing back toward the wagon. “Got everything on the list, too,” he said, then raised his voice. “With no help from you lot!”

He bore the jeers deriding both his command and his lineage, his grin only widening. Celia was impressed. That kind of camaraderie with his men - and women, she noticed on second glance at the shape of some of their armor - was rare even in the best of commanders.

“Alright, you lot, I know you're tired, and we’re all looking forward to some time in the Grotto!” Damian bellowed to the assembled group. “Let's get our guests ready for the next leg of their journey, and then we can have our fill!” That earned a hardy cheer from the soldiers. Celia wondered what the Grotto could be. Was it the locked door with the sound of running water? She’d assumed it was a bathroom, but nobody was that excited about relieving themselves. She resolved to ask when she got back. If. If she got back.

An excited shriek came from above her, and she looked up to find Tabby leaning out of a second-story window, bouncing excitedly.

“Damian! Which one?” she shouted down, and all of the surrounding warriors flinched.

He laughed, shouting back, “Weaver! Without a doubt!”

One of the warriors started to back up, looking for cover. But Tabby leapt out the window, and, as Celia watched with wide eyes, landed directly on him in a full-body tackle. Green lines flickered on her body for a moment, and she jumped to her feet, heaving the warrior, armor and all, and then carrying him into the barracks.

Celia turned to Lauren. “What was...” she trailed off, gesturing towards... whatever she had just seen.

“Oh, Tabby just likes to reward the heralds,” she laughed. Celia considered that, then quickly stopped considering it as she realized where that line of thought led to.

“Thank you for joining us,” Gella called out to the group that was climbing out of the wagon. It was a strange group. Most were dwarves and humans, but there was even a hulking orc at the back. Their clothes were the kind of things farmers and workmen wore. Other soldiers, maybe? A militia? But Damian had said it was a list Gella provided. She chewed on that thought while Gella continued.

“We will be getting you through the waygate shortly, and off to your new professions. As a precaution against displacement disorientation, please take a blindfold, and do help each other tie them on.” As she spoke, one of the heralds was passing out thick, dark blindfolds.

“Can we stick around and watch?” Lauren piped up. “We don't get to see the waygate used much, and it's sooo pretty...”

Celia turned around, frowning. “Will it take long?” Lauren shook her head. “Alright,” Celia shrugged, earning an adorable cheer from the priestess.

Gella led them into the warehouse, the doors opening smoothly despite their ponderous size. Following at the tail of the line, Celia looked around. Stacks and stacks of crates and barrels, bundles of what she assumed to be linen and cloth. Ordinary things. Were those the crates from the other night? Then, there were items that mystified her. Glowing crystals that seemed to leak light, and clear casks of some kind of prismatic dust. The group passed a few doors, which presumably lead to other small storerooms, before reaching the back of the building.

A large metal semicircle was set into the floor. Constructed of a strange dark metal, small circular nodes and spikes of gold rose along its edge, connected together with interweaving lines of steel, copper, silver, and the metal Celia had seen in the kitchen. They formed patterns, shapes, sigils that Celia felt she should understand, somehow, but didn’t. Off to one side was a white marble basin, with what looked like a hole in the center for liquid to drain out. Gella looked over at Lauren, who nodded quickly. “I need to go help with this, Celia, be right back!” she said quickly, hurrying over to the mage.

“You might feel a sense of vertigo. It's perfectly normal. Just keep walking forward until my associate at your destination tells you to stop. Is everyone ready?” she called, receiving a chorus of agreement. From her non-place, Gella produced a simple ceremonial dagger, then brought it down lightly across her palm in a quick stroke. Dark red blood seeped from the wound, dripping into the basin.

Sigils began to light up, glowing bronze and gold and brilliant white along the dark metal base. The light almost seemed to swirl, as if it was constrained, trying to escape its confines. Light sparked between the sigils, creating arcs of brilliant colors, each one arcing closer and closer towards the center of the semicircle, until, with a surge of pressure, they met. Celia gaped as she found herself looking somewhere else. It looked similar, but there were different people, wearing heavier armor, and there was a faint warp to the room that she couldn’t quite describe.

And she thought she’d seen Gella command space before.

“Alright, everyone, just walk forward,” Damian called. The lead traveler walked through the semi-circle, and as easily as moving across the room, they were through. It took only a moment for the entire line to move through, moving who knows how far in seconds. She barely registered Lauren carefully inspecting Gella's wounded hand and mending it with a softly spoken spell.

Once the last of them was through, Gella spoke with one of the soldiers on the other side, confirming details and exchanging documents. The soldier handed her a large leather satchel, which Gella accepted with a satisfied smile. She touched a gemstone on the side of the basin, and with a sudden rush of wind, the device went cold and dark, and the image of that other room flickered and faded.

“Wasn't it pretty?” Lauren said as she rejoined Celia.

“I,” she started. “That. What was that?”

“The waygate,” Lauren said happily.

“A waygate?” she repeated. “What was that?”

“It’s connected to another one over four hundred miles away! Wayyy up in the northern lands,” Lauren explained, sounding slightly confused at how Celia was reacting.

“... Four hundred miles?” Celia asked numbly. To transport troops that far was an insane concept, more the realm of legend than reality. And she doubted she had ever been more than fifty miles from... from... She winced, but the pain didn’t come. She knew, somehow, that she could flow right past that and remember, but that felt dangerous. Like going too close to a cornered animal. Instead, she focused on the concerned priestess. “Okay. So, it connects them. Alright. Got it.” She shook her head, trying to recenter herself. “What does Gella have all the way over there?”

“Another mage lord, I think,” Lauren replied, face thoughtful. “Lord Animus?” She paused and giggled. “What a silly name. Who calls themself stuff like that?” She shook her head, and Celia could almost see the moment that Lauren's attention flew off to another topic. “Ready to go? I have everything all packed!”

They made their way over to the stables, and Celia looked around doubtfully. “Gella said we would be... flying to New Gyr. On a pegasus.”

Lauren nodded, smiling brightly. “Windstrider! He's the best, most sweetest boy ever!” She put two fingers together and whistled sharply. Immediately, a magnificent pure white stallion trotted forward and lowered his large head into Lauren's hands. She gave him several very affectionate pets, then rubbed his flank. Celia shook herself from admiring the horse's coat, and sure, enough along each flank was a broad white wing. “We're going on a flight,” Lauren cooed to the horse. “You know where New Gyr is, right, boy?”

“Lauren, he can't...” she trailed off as the horse gave an unmistakable nod, then looked at her as if he was offended. Celia paused to rub her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile wryly. “Of course. Of course your horse can understand you. Magic. Right.”

Once the saddle had been slipped on and tightened - Windstrider helped by spreading his wings when they needed to circle his flank - the pegasus obligingly knelt for his two passengers. Lauren sat up front with her hands on the reins, and Celia sat behind, wrapping her arms around the priestess. “Ready?” Lauren asked excitedly.

“I’m ready,” she said. Though really, she wasn’t. How could she be ready to fly? 

Lauren learned forward, towards Windstrider’s easers. “Let’s go. Nice and easy, boy!” The horse nodded once, and he strode, smoothly and gracefully, out of the stable and into the yard. The morning's cloudiness had mostly cleared, leaving great piles of puffy white dotting an otherwise clear blue sky. Feeling the chill wind,Lauren called for cloaks, which Violet quickly brought them. Finally, with the riding cloaks fastened, Windstrinder bounded forward, leapt, and with a mighty flap of his wings they were airborne.

Cair Dwemor shrank below them, and Celia's stomach whirled. She... she was so high up! Each flap brought them higher, higher above the fortress, until it looked like a child's playset. The air grew frosty, and Celia felt something pinning her legs to the saddle. She tried asking Lauren what spell it was, but the rush of air stole her voice.

Finally, they leveled off and the pegasus aimed toward the sparkling distant mountains. This, Celia thought with pure delight, has got to be the best experience of my life. She was a bird among the clouds, worries and fears and cares as distant as the ground. Because a mad... because a mage.... because Gella wanted me, and - She shook her head. Lying to herself felt pointless in the face of... of this. Because Gella has been nothing but kind, nothing but generous, and wanted me to experience this.

Trusting Lauren to handle the navigation - though the disguised priestess spent as much time looking around at the rolling vista as Celia did, so perhaps it was Windstrider she should be trusting - the warrior seemed to have ample time to think.

Was it worth it? That was the question it all came down to. Well, she had given Gella the change to start over. To treat her like the mercenary she was. With Lauren nearby... there were probably a thousand ways the mage could puppet the priestess from afar. Celia had already been shown Gella could contact Lauren from afar. But that would show Celia that Gella couldn't be trusted.

And what if she did keep her word? The thought was insidious, and Celia immediately tried swatting it away. But if Gella kept her word... what then? Cair Dwemor was a paradise. Gella seemed to fly in the face of everything she knew. The strong oppressed the weak, but Gella used her strength to protect and nurture those weaker than her. She had three live in sex slaves... that seemed genuinely delighted to be exactly that. Gella casually talked about toying with their minds... and had every opportunity to do the same to Celia, and, with an understandable exception, simply hadn't. Why did the mage have to be so gods-damned frustrating!

Let's see how it goes. Maybe Gella won't keep her word... Celia let the thought trail off, unsure why it sounded so hollow, or why she was almost hoping the mage would try something.