Magistrate Beatrix Cawel's personal assistant was an intriguing contrast to the severe woman herself—a short, thick-set individual with a shock of red hair swept up into a pompadour, her face a patchwork of freckles arranged around a smile far more welcoming than anything they'd ever seen from Beatrix. It was a bit like comparing a mousy clerical worker to a hunting viper.

"Hello, welcome to the Magisterium, and welcome back," she chimed, bobbing her head politely. "My name is Heidi. On Magistrate Cawel's behalf, we thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice, and we assure you that—"

A guard marched up, adjusting the position of his halberd respectfully before speaking. "Apologies, Heidi, but the Magistrate requests a word immediately."

Heidi's smile faltered. "Immediately, you say. As in..."

"Right now." The guard stepped to the side and motioned for the assistant to lead the way.

"Understood. Please show our guests into the waiting room while I, uh—just right through there, if you don't mind."

And just like that, the chipper welcome was over. The team found themselves ushered through a side door, emerging in an austere chamber with uncomfortable-looking chairs and a stern portrait of Beatrix glaring down at them from its place on the back wall.

A guard stood off to the side, examining each of them in turn as they entered. "Please remain here until summoned. Escort is available if you require it."

Pyra beamed. "Thanks!"

The guard's frown deepened as the door closed.

"...Well, this isn't ominous at all," Kindle observed, glancing back at Cinder. "It's like we're at our own parole hearing."

Cinder just shrugged, gaze tracing the interior decor. "It's an interrogation, remember? Best get used to it."

Ash walked the perimeter, pausing to examine the portrait. "'A life dedicated to the pursuit of magical equity,'" she read aloud, studying the title etched along the bottom edge of the gilt-edged frame. "It doesn't say how that equity will be achieved. It feels like a general platitude more than an actual aspiration."

Ember took a seat in the nearest of the leather-wrapped chairs, testing its resilience. "That could be the point. If Beatrix doesn't seem committed to any specific ideals, it makes her harder to oppose."

"That sounds like a recipe for undefined expectations," Kindle commented, taking a seat in a neighboring chair.

Cinder ambled over to the other portrait on the wall, taking her usual hands-in-pockets stance. "Probably a balancing act. Having a goal provides motivation and focus, but being vague gives flexibility and plausible deniability."

Ash nodded thoughtfully. "We saw a bit of that the last time we visited. Beatrix certainly has a sense of duty and follows through on her commitments."

"She also seems like a 'by all means necessary' sort of person," Kindle noted. "That isn't an admirable trait in an organization dedicated to regulating magic."

Pyra raised a hand. "How exactly does this help us?"

"It doesn't." Cinder leaned forward, staring at the imposing figure in the portrait. "We're just talking. Gotta pass the time somehow."

"Fair point." Pyra studied the portrait as well, nodding slowly. "She looks pretty dramatic. And her dress looks heavy."

The others pondered the portrait for a moment, each remembering their encounter with the Magistrate in her office. It certainly hadn't been a social call, but then, they hadn't given her many chances to talk.

There had been a flinty edge to her—more a sharpness than outright harshness. And by the end, when her direct questions and pressure tactics had proved futile, they'd still come away with something akin to respect.

It wasn't that they expected to avoid all risk from a future meeting. It was just... complicated.

The door opened, and Heidi peeked through, glancing around the room with a puckered expression. "I'm so sorry for the wait. Magistrate Cawel will see you now. Please follow me. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Cinder raised an eyebrow. "Is the Magistrate trying to lull us into a false sense of security with refreshments?"

Heidi gave an artful chuckle, gesturing at them to proceed into the hallway. "I'll just bring you a pitcher and let you help yourselves. Magistrate Cawel is in a bit of a tizzy today, so..."

"Tizzy?" Ember prodded, hoping for more details.

"Oh, you know," Heidi said in a voice that suggested she wouldn't share details, then broke off and gave a forceful giggle. "Ha ha ha, oh, you know. This way, if you please, she's expecting you."

The Magisterium Central Tower's conference room felt smaller than it had months ago, though the intimidating marble and carved reliefs remained unchanged. Beatrix sat behind her familiar desk of black oak, steel-gray braid draped over one shoulder as she arranged documents with the same methodical attention to detail that had characterized every one of their previous meetings.

But instead of their usual private conversation, two other figures flanked her position—one expected, one decidedly not.

Archmage Galen Vosk stood near the tall windows, his calculating gaze already cataloging them like specimens while his brown hair caught the afternoon light. His presence wasn't entirely surprising; he'd made periodic appearances during their early evaluations, always with new questions about consciousness transfer and magical theory.

The third man, however, was completely unknown to them.

Heidi offered the promised water, flitting around with a pitcher and a stack of goblets balanced precariously atop a tray.

"Thank you, Heidi, that'll be all."

Heidi set a full goblet on the desk, placed the tray by the empty chair, and swiftly departed, shutting the door behind her with an audible thump.

"Please, be seated," Beatrix said, gesturing to five chairs arranged in their usual semicircle. The formality in her tone made them feel like they were about to be scolded.

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"Before we begin," she continued once they'd settled, "I should introduce Archmagus Valerian Cross of the Second Circle."

The newcomer rose from his chair, brushing an errant speck from his faded red robes with an air of preamble, a brief performance that gave him time to eye each of them in turn. Everything about him suggested carved stone—completely white hair pulled back severely, pale blue eyes rimmed with thick, dark lashes, angular jaw, prominent nose, and a severe posture that made his already considerable height feel even loftier.

His age was hard to pinpoint, but the harsh angles of his features suggested a late-forty something. His face would have been quite handsome if not for the perpetual look of thinly veiled displeasure that marred any sense of approachability. A tracery of silvery markings arced along his knuckles, snaking underneath the sleeve of his left arm like fine engravings of metallic inks.

When he spoke, his words were slow, measured, and thoughtful, like someone conversing in a foreign tongue.

"Ladies. I apologize for the irregular circumstances, but recent developments have necessitated my involvement."

He waited a beat, clearly expecting some form of reply, then sat back down when none came.

"Three days ago, Marcus Brightblade filed an official casualty report with both the Guild and this office."

She placed a document on the desk where they could all see it—Guild seals, House Brightblade crests, and Marcus's signature clearly visible beneath dense bureaucratic text.

"The report confirms your death, Ember, during the hydra engagement at Navarro's caravan. Witnessed by his entire team. Complete bodily destruction."

The conference room fell into the sort of silence that preceded either reconciliation or catastrophe.

"Well..." Ember began, straightening in her chair and clearly determined not to wilt under their scrutiny, "I'm not really—"

"Yet here you sit," Beatrix continued, her tone carrying the sort of dangerous quiet that made glaciers seem warm. "Apparently in perfect health. Therefore, I must ask: what precisely am I witnessing?"

Ash cleared her throat, managing to keep her tone steady. "Recent events have led us to believe that our nature may be a bit more... nuanced."

Beatrix set her chin in one hand. "Such as? We've already placed you all into a new classification months ago due to your unexpected abilities. What has since been revealed?"

Ember swallowed, exchanging hesitant looks with her sisters-selves.

"Uh, well, so. About that..."

Beatrix pinched her nose. "More secrets, I presume. A very unwise strategy. After months of weekly reports about your exceptional but manageable abilities, we're now confronting evidence that you can die and return to life."

Ember's mouth went dry. "Marcus was misinformed about the extent of my injuries."

"Misinformed?" Valerian leaned forward, his pale eyes boring into her with uncomfortable intensity. "Thomas Reaves described your body being completely immolated in an explosion visible from miles away. His exact words were 'nothing remaining but scorched earth and the stench of burned hydra.'"

"I got better," Ember said, which sounded even more inadequate than it had the first time she'd used that explanation.

"You got better," Beatrix repeated, her voice dropping several degrees colder than their previous meetings had ever warranted. "From complete physical annihilation."

"Recovery can be... complicated."

Galen spoke up from his position by the windows, excitement barely contained beneath his scholarly demeanor. "Which brings us to the central question Beatrix had been asking from the beginning: what exactly are you?"

The familiar phrasing hit differently coming from someone who'd spent weeks studying them during their provisional exemption period. Back then, the question carried the assumption that they were the only individuals affected by a condition they barely understood themselves. Now, however, the wording felt almost threatening, like Beatrix was holding them to account for concealing a dire threat to public safety.

"We've been through this," Cinder said with forced calm. "Five individuals sharing a consciousness, enhanced abilities, instinctive pyrokinesis. Nothing's changed."

"Everything has changed," Valerian corrected sharply. "Your previous classification assumed standard magical practice within known parameters. Evidence of a curable death-defying condition changes everything."

Pyra shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Maybe it wasn't as bad as Marcus thought?"

"Marcus filed witness statements from four team members," Beatrix said, producing additional documents. "Elena Thorne described your final attack as 'sacrificing herself in an explosion that lit up the entire marsh.' Gareth Kinsley reported 'complete immolation—no way anyone survives that.' Alessio Reyes confirmed 'total destruction of both hydra and Ember.'"

"They were... mistaken," Kindle offered weakly.

"Were they?" Valerian's pale eyes never left their faces. "Because if they weren't mistaken—if you truly died and somehow returned—then we're dealing with phenomena that challenge fundamental assumptions about life, death, and magical classification."

Galen moved away from the windows, taking up a place next to Valerian, the sunlight momentarily haloing his brown hair. "The consciousness preservation angle becomes even more compelling. If your shared mental connection allows for some form of internalized transference—some combination of multiple spell elements—you'd be breaking ground on a whole new level."

"It could be the pinnacle of magical advances," Valerian agreed with a nod. "Or a dangerous form of necromancy that could threaten the entire region's balance. Which is it?"

"Neither?" Ash suggested meekly.

Beatrix's lips were practically white with tension as she considered them with narrowed eyes. "For months, we've held back inquiries and explanations, all on your behalf. I've wasted precious weeks supporting your foolish arguments and justifications. Now, it's time you returned the favor with complete, unvarnished cooperation."

"But... what if we aren't sure?" Ember said plaintively. "We don't have all the answers. Sometimes we're in the dark too."

"And yet you insisted upon control of the situation," Beatrix retorted, her voice as clipped and pointed as her gaze. "We are now at the endgame. Either provide honest answers, or I will have no choice but to assign you a full investigative committee for breaching your exemption agreement, which I assure you will show no mercy on your circumstances."

They swallowed as one.

Bureaucracy might have been a lot less intimidating if Beatrix had been able to keep up her polite, determined-but-reasonable persona. But this—the cold eyes and scathing remarks—this was frightening and new.

"I see," Beatrix murmured, watching each of them carefully. "Galen, you've been studying them since their arrival. What do you think?"

Galen cleared his throat, acknowledging the rare honor of being trusted with his opinion. "They are clearly remarkable, but for me... the consciousness theory still trumps. Magically complex mental states have eluded our understanding for hundreds of years. Yet here we are, witnessing five women united by a single mental plane. I suspect the answers we seek will be found there."

"We might disagree on that point," Valerian countered, offering a thin smile. "If we're dealing with some form of resurrection, or even a deeply theoretical form of transference, it's possibly connected with something greater. We're at the precipice of a watershed moment in Amaranth's history. This is an opportunity for deeper investigation and wider implications."

"Granted," Galen retorted. "But you haven't spent months investigating their mental faculties. I have."

Cinder shifted, crossing her arms. "Should we be flattered to be caught between these two academic heavyweights?"

Galen gave her a polite nod, acknowledging the obvious attempt at diversion. "You should certainly be flattered, yes."

"No one's flattered right now, Galen," Beatrix clarified. "And from my perspective, both of you have good points. We need to establish a framework for evaluation, and I think we're all agreed that recent developments are exceptional, surprising, and unprecedented. I need you to weigh in on potential next steps."

"On what criteria, exactly?" Ash prodded.

The faintest flicker of relief passed through Cinder, though her posture didn't relax. No one was losing their head... yet.

Beatrix regarded them from behind a carefully blank face. "On whether I can, in good conscience, continue to support your exemption from standard classification procedures and oversight."

"...Ah." Kindle swallowed, clearly thinking the same as her sisters-selves: please don't do this, don't make us face a difficult choice.

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