Mary hadn’t been hiding.

On the contrary, Mary had been out and about. She’d gone to school, she’d even gone with her Grandmother to England for the summer (much against the wishes of her mother) but she’d left the wonderful world of magic and knighthood alone. She hadn’t contacted anyone. She hadn’t seen anyone. It was as though she’d vanished from the powered world.

She really hadn’t been hiding though.

There were just…. Other things Mary had to do. She applied to colleges, she wrote, she went back to a sense of normalcy within her life. She was – Nestkeepers she was eighteen, almost nineteen now. There were things she had to do, expectations she had to up hold. It was expected of her to go to college (even though she was going to the local one). It was expected of her to get a part time job (something she’d been avoiding for some time now). It was expected that she be normal and not sneaking out to go fight monsters and visit rainbow roads and play with magic.

Maybe she’d been hiding, a little.

After the awkwardness with Raven, and the triggered memory within the room she dubbed “The Room of Knight Souls,” Mary had, well, avoided powering up. She put it off, saying there were things she needed to do. She avoided thinking about her ring, even as she fiddled with it on the chain around her neck. She didn’t give a single thought to her Wonder, to her ancestor. In time, it all just… slipped away. It became a far off memory to her, like one of the stories in her grandmother’s books. The statue in the garden was hard to not notice however.

Okay, she’d been hiding.

Mary started to notice things about the objects in her grandmother’s house. She began to explore. She found things, trinkets, with the Chronos symbol on them, with the beige, pink, and gold color scheme. From jewelry boxes, to cutlery, to even a hanging rug in the sitting room she didn’t remember seeing before and a runner in the main hallway. It wasn’t just the Chronos symbol, though.

These objects bore the symbol of the Bifrost, the very one on her signet ring.

“Grandmother, what’s this symbol?” she’d asked innocently enough one evening near dinner. Her grandmother smiled at her and stroked the indentations.

“In the old days, this was the mark of a Tunith. A radiating sun above a bridge represented our family.”

“…Tunith? But you’re a Lopna, Grandmother. Unless you got these from my father’s parents…” she’d said, noting the odd way her grandmother’s eyebrows shot up. The old woman recovered after a moment and simply chuckled, patting her granddaughter on the head.

“Right you are. I did acquire them. I was a sort of antique dealer at one point, you remember.” Mary nodded, listening to her. “As I was saying. This was a type of family crest for the Tuniths. Many were gatekeepers of some sorts, but others branched out into wood, metal and clay craft. To mark their craft, they used these symbols…” Her grandmother then fell into a story about one Tunith who braved fire, snow, death, and chaos to guard his gate. Mary thought it was all very silly, braving so much just to guard a gate. It wasn’t as though the Tunith in the story was guarding a jail, or the entrance to a royal’s chambers. He was guarding a garden gate in the middle of a war because that was his “duty.” There was duty, and then there was stupidity and being unable to think for yourself. Mary very much thought this ancestor was the latter.

It had, though, left Mary with an odd taste in her mouth. One that made her ignore the symbols all around the house and rooms.

It was hard to hide from the statue in the garden though.

Twice her size, the stone statue stood as a guardian over the mazes, hedges and koi ponds. There was nothing distinguishable about the statue, at first glance; he was a knight of some rank, wearing a cloak with a simple broach on it. Grey and covered in algae in some places from the rains, his face had long since been worn away. Or Mary had first thought. A lot of things about the statue were incorrect, the teen found out.

The statue had no face, because it was hidden behind a leather mask and a hood that fell into his eyes. The cloak pin was etched with a simple bridge, with a radiating sun behind it. His bracers, barely seen under his cloak, bore the Chronos symbol and image of a door. The sword he held was etched around the hilt and handle with gates and bridges and rainbows. A plaque at his feet, one Mary had never noticed before, read the following:

”The Gatekeeper protects the Way
Only those deemed Worthy
Shall he who guards the Gate
Allow passage upon the Bridge“


It so very much referenced the Bifrost that Mary had almost passed out from the shock. How, how could all of these things, off of these objects, just sit here undisturbed and without anyone having any idea of what it meant. How could they, when it was clear no one who wasn’t powered knew anything about what was going on. How all of this knowledge had been lost, or not turned into some kind of fable was beyond Mary.

Maybe people just didn’t want to remember. Maybe something had happened that was so traumatic, that the best way to handle it was to assume it never existed. Completely ignore its existence and turn a blind eye to it.

That was easy to do, she knew. Many a character of hers had turned a blind eye to something simply based on the fact they couldn’t handle it. Argabauth had completely ignored his mate’s trist with the enemy’s clan head, preferring to treat her as though she simply didn’t exist than to confront her with it. Though, she supposed, that was because if he had focused on it, her neck would have been laid open with his talons. Mary also, for the most part, turned a blind eye (or as blind as she could make it) to her mother’s lack of acceptance. She preferred to give off an air of it nothing bothering her, when all she wanted to do was beat it into her mother’s head what it was she was doing to her. So Mary was well acquainted with things that one didn’t want to remember or ignore the existence off.

One could say that Mary herself was someone that had simply decided not to remember who she was.

Mary idly wondered what it was that had happened so long ago to have the knowledge lost.

But, that was neither here nor there. Her only somewhat reliable source of information was a see-through woman with a grudge and an obsession with duty. Mary wanted to live, not waste away on some distant rainbow road protecting a bridge no one used.

So she lived. She did things girls her age did. She avoided everything related to Bifrost or Chronos.

Much like her ancestors must have done.

“Mary…? Mary are you alright?” her grandmother’s voice filled her ears and brought her back to the present. The teacup in her hands clattered on the dish as she jumped, lilac eyes wide in surprise. She glanced around at the garden they sat in, the statue to the left behind her grandmother just barely peaking over a hedge. It was one of the more formal English gardens, with a wrought iron table and chairs for tea and a fountain to their right. Daily, she and her grandmother came here to have tea and enjoy a short time of peace and tranquility. It was cozy and private, and was the one corner of the garden completely void of all things Chronos.

Mary blinked a few time and looked at her grandmother. The older woman gave her a soft smile and raised a brow in concern. The teen flushed and scrunched her shoulders a little in embarrassment.

“Apologies, Grandmother…. I was lost in my thoughts,” she said, slowly taking a sip of her tea.

“There are worst places to be lost, my dear. Now, as I was saying, I’ve some… unpleasant news.” Mary’s eyes swiveled to her grandmother from her teacup, apprehensive.

“What news?” she asked, worried her age was finally catching up with her.

“From your… mother. She is demanding I return you to her, and is threatening to have me arrested for kidnapping.” At this, the cup fell back to the dish and Mary’s eyes widened. While it was true that Mary had stayed with her grandmother for the better part of a year now, it was on her own choice. Mary’s mother had to know that Mary was eighteen now and legally an adult as well. She couldn’t arrest her grandmother for kidnapping!

She’d always known her mother to be rather illogical, but this was crossing a line she couldn’t ignore. On top of it, Mary would have to go at it alone, seeing as her father only stuck up for her half the time, and the half he did he was just appeasing her with fake words. Mary couldn’t have her grandmother come with her, because her mother would take it as an offense and try to further prove the kidnapping scenario. She would have to confront her alone, with the fates against her.

Would she finally admit her to a mental institution simply to know where she is? Ah, but the eighteen or over card could be drawn and with the use of a doctor Mary chose herself… Cleary Mary watched too many crime shows on her days off from school. She decided that there was no way her mother could do anything she was threatening and decided to voice such.

“But I’m eighteen, am I not? Besides, she can’t arrest you for kidnapping if I came willing! That won’t hold up in court. She’s simply venting anger that she doesn’t have ‘Her Mary’ still.” The teen grumbled, rather upset with the whole thing. It was bad enough that her mother didn’t accept her as being, well, Mary. It was a whole other thing entirely when the woman tried to use it to get her way.

‘Your mother seems to think otherwise. I’d advise you to go home for the holidays ---“

At that precise moment, a large black shape crashed through the garden. It barreled into the table, sending it flying. There was the distinct crash of broken china, and above it was her grandmother’s cry of shock and fear. Time did not slow down, nor did it speed up, but simply carry on at the same pace as always. Mary, on the other hand, sat frozen with blood dripping from her hand from where a broken teacup had sliced her hand. Her grandmother fell out of her chair as a long thin tail snapped the back legs of the piece of furniture. She watched the black creature, the youma, circle around her grandmother and roll a shoulder. The spindly gryphon snapped its jaws, showing teeth, and flapped its wings threateningly.

What was a youma doing all the way out here?

“Mary! Mary run!” cried her grandmother, swinging a broken piece of the chair at the monster in front of her.

What? No. She couldn’t run. That was her grandmother! That was her grandmother that was being attacked!

The youma swiveled his head around to look at Mary. It regarded her with an air of unimportance and turned back to the old woman on the ground. The youma blocked her grandmother’s view of her.

All it took was one cry from her grandmother for Mary to know what she had to do.

She felt the familiar rush of power as she became Bifrost. She stretched her toes in her boots, fluffed her shoulders and felt the weight of the leather pauldrons shift. Fingers cracked and she swiveled the rings around her fingers. She picked up the remnants of the table’s legs and held them in her hands like swords.

“Feather butt! Get away from her!” She shouted and slammed the iron rods against the youma’s backside. The youma didn’t yelp, didn’t cry, nothing. It simply turned its head to her and raised a nonexistent eyebrow.

Then she felt the power signature off the creature and paled.

It reminded her of the confrontation with Lesath in the garden, except blacker, darker, and much more powerful.

Her heart raced and she panicked, slamming the metal rod into its head. The youma shook its head and snapped the rod in half with its beak. Bifrost’s eyes widened and she glanced at her Grandmother, who was staring at her with wide eyes that didn’t recognize her. Sometimes the only thing to do in a panic was to do the stupidest thing.

Bifrost ran forward and slid into place between herself and her Grandmother. She held her arms out to act as a barrier between her grandmother and the youma.

“Gra- Ma’am run! I’ll buy you some time---“ At that moment the youma roared and charged straight for Bifrost. She squeezed her eyes shut.

There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t let her grandmother be attacked and drained like this. She couldn’t fail.

No, failure was not an option.

Bifrost, give me the strength to do what I must!

“By the Bifrost and it’s Gatekeeper you. Shall. Not. PASS!”

Power surged through her body, a magnificent light of rainbow swallowing her whole. She felt clothing shift, felt her wrists become heavy and tight. Her waist was synched but not corset tight. Her lower legs shifted tightness and lifted her slightly off the ground. The hood shifted on her head and she snapped her eyes open as the light fade.

The page – no Squire of Chronos crossed her hands in front of her, palms facing the youma that had staggered back at the rush of light. Lilac eyes hardened and she glared at the youma.

“Bifrost Bridge Defense!” She snapped her hands out, a rainbow colored wall billowing out between them. The barrier itself seemed to solidify and stabilize, and rippled with a rainbow of colors. Satisfied with the magic, she spoke to her grandmother while watching the youma.

“Please, run now,” she said, the words formal and calm. She heard the older woman scramble behind her and get up.

“Thank you Miss! If you see my granddaughter, tell her I’m safe!” With that her grandmother ran through the gate behind them and out of the battle. Bifrost let out a sigh of relief, focusing on her magic and the youma in front of her. The youma charged and slammed its beak into the barrier. The sudden jar to her senses – not used to having something outside of herself she could feel like it was hitting her direction – broke her concentration and the barrier shattered, seemingly under the weight of the youma. The Squire stumbled backwards and reeled, disoriented and dazed.

This gave the youma in front of her enough time to collect itself and charge again.

She took the youma straight to the chest and both crashed into the bushes behind her. Regardless of the sharpness or weight behind the youma, Bifrost seemed to be sturdier and felt nothing snap or crack on the way down. The youma snapped at her face and neck and she slammed a metal covered fist into its head.

The beast roared and arched back, giving Bifrost enough to remember the iron table leg still in her other hand. She brought her hands forward and lunged upwards as the youma came down at her.

There was a sickening crunch.

Followed by an explosion of dust as the iron rod pierced through the top of the youma’s head.

For a long few minutes Bifrost sat on the ground in the now ruined garden and caught her breath. She’d dusted a youma that had been previously twice her power, saved her grandmother, and powered up, all in the span of five minutes.

Wait, she was a Squire now?

What the heck did that mean?

She looked down at herself, running her fingers over the woven metal on her arms. Well, it meant she had magic now. It meant she was stronger somehow. She didn’t have to fling rings at people now. Not that she was very offensive, but maybe if she started carrying around things to help with that?

But, did she really want to fight? Did she have a reason to fight? Protect innocent people? But there was triple, four times the amount of senshi to do that, not to mention other Knights. Why should she be needed?

The Squire looked up at the sky and sighed.

Duty… her mind echoed. Duty to do what you know is right. To protect people like you protected Raven, and your grandmother. That’s your duty.

The words sounded so much like Prena she cringed at first. Even just one encounter with the woman had solidified her desire to never see her again. But, for as cryptic and see-through she was… she wasn’t wrong.

“Duty, huh…” She rested back on her hands and let the façade of Bifrost fall from her. A sigh left her lips as the power withdrew, leaving her in the sundress she’d been sitting in before. A breeze picked up her hair and brushed her cheek. All was tranquil, all was quiet, and it was as though nothing had happened.

It had, though. She looked around the broken garden and let out a heavier sigh.

She could decide whether to do her duty later. For now, she needed to find her grandmother.

Mary picked herself up and brushed off her knees, taking a moment to right some of the chairs and move the broken table and china out of the pathway. She ruffled her shoulders and made her way out of the gate.

And later, she would visit Prena and ask some very pointed questions.


Word Count: 3031