It was Friday, February 21st. Kaðlín was off work. She made no plans. She had nothing she needed to do to advance her best friend's wishes. She stayed at home, stayed in bed, for half the day.

Winter still reigned. Animals were either hibernating or bedded down elsewhere, further south, nearer the equator. It wasn't much colder than Iceland. Snow laid outside.

The dishwasher was full of dirty dishes. A basket of dirty laundry sat next to the washing machine for three days. The stove was covered in a mess of stir fry oil, though she didn't recall the last time she actually made a meal. The trash sat full — past full, actually, for it was beginning to mound over like it had surface tension.

There was plenty she needed to do, but she didn't want to get out of bed.

Tomorrow made a week from the Order meeting she somehow managed. She still felt a little bit mystified by it all — not that she managed to pull it off, for she considered it no great feat to coordinate a mass message and then talk in front of an audience — and she marveled at the fact that so many people came together to speak their piece. They came armed with ideas, and despite the unimaginable events that many of them lived through, they focused on the future. They thought about what they could do. They thought about what others could do, too.

And now there were whole groups of them in the wings, striving to find ways to better their own situation. It felt like a lofty achievement.

As a result, Kaðlín had lost interest in mundanity like cleaning house or going for a walk. She knew she could, she knew she should, but she'd rather be a layabout and dream up ways that Order could band together and follow their dreams. And if she decided to take a walk, she'd much rather take that walk on her Wonder, where the trees and sky were so starkly different than anything she would ever find on Earth. However, her wonder wouldn't admit her when she recited her oath. It felt like she'd exhausted it.

A gentle tapping at her window drummed up a rhythm. It roused her out of bed at last, and Kaðlín pulled back the covers to walk barefoot to the heavy curtains. She threw open the deep grey first layer, then the almost sheer second layer beneath it, and was met with a darkening sky.

That was fine, she guessed. She didn't feel like going outside, anyway.

As she stood in front of the window, watching the brewing storm, she thought about calling Brielle. She didn't have anything to talk about, though. She was already at the meeting, and Kaðlín didn't have any fresh news about that. She hadn't made any progress investigating the death of her best friend and how it might be connected to the Negaverse. Nothing worth talking about had happened to her wonder, either. Nevertheless, she wanted to hear her voice.

Thunder clapped in the distance. Kaðlín's gaze shifted to the most distant parts of the storm. Maybe she'd make some coffee.


When she returned, steaming cup in hand, she saw flashes dance across the wall. Thunder cracked afterward, growling and snarling fierce over the steady patter of rain. Kaðlín enjoyed a good storm, so she pulled out the folding chair that sat in front of her desk and stood it in front of the window. With the desk till in arm's reach, she set of coffee cup on it and seated herself to watch the storm. There, she wondered if anyone else who had been at the meeting was watching the storm like this. Telling herself that the answer was yes, she felt a little more connected.

Another flash. Another throaty boom. Kaðlín sipped her coffee and thought that she must have used too much milk.

Kaðlín knew she needed to reach out to the coordinators. She had everyone's names, but that only included their names while coated in magic; if she wanted to connect with them, then she needed a signet ring like Hy-Brasil's to do so. Not everyone wanted to give out their number to a stranger, particularly when there was an undercurrent of suspicion for having their hostage scenario so suddenly interrupted by the very person Hy-Brasil sought to hurt.

But Kaðlín didn't know how to get a signet ring. Hy said she found hers, but Kaðlín hadn't the faintest idea where to find such a small ring in an entire valley's worth of a wonder. It wasn't like there were any buildings there for her to investigate. What if it was covered in debris from the forest fire? What if it had fallen into the river at some point, and was chased away toward the sea? What if she had to make it herself? She was no lapidary. Something like that would never get done.

Lightning flickered and flashed again. Against the grumble of the first strike, a second fork of lightning crawled over deep violet clouds. Kaðlín jumped at the clangorous crack that came afterward. She winced, too, as a splash of hot coffee sprawled over her bare leg.

She was quick to set the cup aside and wipe away the coffee with a corner of her comforter. The skin looked pink, but otherwise fine. Cursing mildly to herself, Kaðlín sat down again, only to be subject to another crack of thunder. Then another. Then another. The strikes kept coming, now less than a second apart.

And it wasn't just their frequency that caught her attention. Not all of the lightning streaks clung to the foreboding clouds; some touched down in the city, which alarmed her greatly. Lightning was destructive as a force of nature — she'd seen photos of lightning scars and heard stories of people passing away after getting struck. Buildings caught fire by heat alone. Whole areas of cities lost power whenever lightning struck a transformer. She wondered if she should be sitting so close to the window.

Thunderclaps came closer and closer together until they were nearly constant. Kaðlín watched, transfixed; she thought she'd be on the floor by now if she had epilepsy. Those flashes tailed each other viciously until, at last, her vision went white.

She blinked away the stain on her vision. She listened. She waited. She realized, with furrowed brows, that the lightning subsided and the rain faded and she was left with only her memory of such a suspicious event.

WC: 1098