Firebrand Risk
P.Track.13
November 22, 2025

Nellie was woken by Nathalie’s frustrated cries to Uncle Winston at 1AM. She did not go listen at the door. She did not get out of bed at all. She lay still, staring into the darkness hiding her ceiling, trying to tune out the fragmented conversation. She drifted in and out, falling into an uneasy sleep only to be startled awake by her phone alarm four hours later.

She quickly silenced it and did not dare move, ears straining for sounds of it waking Nathalie. All was quiet. She dressed in jeans and pulled a zip-up sweatshirt over her shirt, and crept outside.

Ash stuck his head out of the dog-door on his house. He bolted for her, skidding to a halt as she held up her hands and shushed him frantically.

“Want extra breakfast,” Nellie asked, roughing his face.

She filled his bowl and scattered more around the cozy shed to give him something to search for. She turned his heater on and hovered near it, shivering in the dark, listening to Ash crunching the kibbles. Her phone buzzed some minutes later. She opened Morgan’s message:

Out front.

“See you later, Ash,” Nellie murmured.

A shiny, black Lexus idled beyond the trees at the end of the driveway. It was like every government kidnapping seen on TV. She crept over, exhaling the breath she did not know she was holding when the back window slid down and Morgan stuck out his head.

“Nellie, hurry,” Morgan whispered loudly.

She was settled in the back with her cousin a second later with the car heading northwest.

“Cumberland City and Cumberland Furnace are near enough to each other that we can hit both,” Morgan said, moving around the map on his phone. “I estimate three hours to hit both locations, an hour about at each, and likely three back. You should be home near two.”

“It won’t matter,” Nellie said. “I’ll be in trouble the moment she wakes up and sees I’m gone.” She snuggled against the door, shooting the silent driver a look. “Ferblanc?”

“Uber Black,” Morgan said. He yawned hugely. “I’ll try to sleep. You should too.”

The suggestion was noted and unneeded. Nellie’s eyes were already heavy. The humming of the engine was more comforting than in the Crown Victoria, probably due to the car being new. The heater had done its job, and she was now too comfortable to fight against the need for sleep.

They were woken by their driver just over two hours later; him being sure they were in Cumberland Furnace but not sure where specifically they wanted to be dropped off. There were no options that either of them saw on the slow crawl through the only street in town.

Town was too large a word to describe the rural community. There was not really anything for a downtown. There was a two-story white building that said it was a community center that stood near some houses. There was a post office not anywhere near the community center that stood alone with only fields around, but this was across–at an angle–from another old building that had once been a train station, although Nellie could not find any trace of tracks anywhere. All the other properties looked to be homes with yards at the least and multiple acres at most.

“I don’t think this is right,” Morgan said slowly. He was eyeing a farmer driving his tractor down the opposite side of the street warily.

“Rural would make the most sense… but, I think you’ve got a point,” Nellie said, frowning at the nothingness of the place. “I thought Lynchburg was rural….”

“Driver,” Morgan commanded, “onto Cumberland City, if you would.”

“Please,” Nellie added.

The driver grumbled and recalculated his GPS.

Nellie yawned and adjusted her seating now that she was awake. She flinched as her phone started buzzing in her pocket.

“Your aunt,” Morgan asked.

“Most likely.”

“Silence it. I’ve mine off since we hit the highway,” Morgan said. “Actually….” He extracted his phone, holding down the button until the screen lit. “Just curious.”

She had never fully understood the term ‘phone blowing up’ until that moment. The notification chimes came so quickly they blurred together. It made her anxious, but Morgan looked bored. She hastily silenced her phone as he again turned his off.

“Was that all Amias,” she asked.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Morgan said, resting his head against the window. “Driver, how long until we arrive? I’m getting hungry.”

“Thirty minutes,” the driver said, his tone tired and unamused.

The scenery did not get significantly more populated as they continued. It remained mostly fields and some woods. If anything, the number of houses dropped and businesses all disappeared. It was surprising that when they passed an old, large barn they turned onto Main Street. They sat up, taking more note of their surroundings, but the view stayed fields with the number of houses beginning to increase. They slowed near the post office and police station–both undescript, small, old buildings–and stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street.

“Driver,” Morgan said warily, “are we arriving soon?”

“We just drove through,” he said.

“I didn’t see even a diner,” Nellie said, wrapping her arms around her growling stomach.

“This is absurd,” Morgan growled. “How is this a city? There’s nothing here!”

“We wouldn’t find it in a city,” Nellie pointed out. She leaned towards the front. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but is there any other Cumberland in Tennessee?”

“There’s a Cumberland County,” the driver said. “Think one of the state parks over there has Cumberland in the name.”

Morgan’s phone was pinging like crazy again. He stared at the screen–ignoring the noise–with his jaw clenched as an internet search loaded at a glacial pace.

“That would be a better fit,” Morgan said. “Cumberland City has only been called such since 1814. It’s too new for what we want.” He groaned and turned his phone off again. “You’ll have to handle searches. The adults in my life are too irritating for words!”

“I mean… you did kind of vanish on them,” Nellie said. “It’s a pretty normal reaction.” She smiled sympathetically at the driver. “Sorry, but can you get us to Cumberland County?”

“You want to go to a county? A whole county?” He twisted in his seat, setting a disbelieving stare on them. “Do you understand how broad that is? Are you going to ask me to zigzag all over it?”

“I am paying you,” Morgan said coolly. “Imagine what you’ll make with this fare.”

The driver narrowed his eyes, and turned back to the road. “I ain’t about to go to jail for driving runaways around. Am I dropping you kids off at that townhouse or the farm house?”

Morgan argued that he had money, that they were not runaways, and whatever other points popped into his head without budging the driver’s decision. The driver eventually popped in some earbuds and turned his radio on, leaving them to sit as hostages for the long drive back.

Nellie dared to go into her messages. There were two missed calls from Uncle Winston and five from Nathalie. Uncle Winston left a single text asking where she went. Amias sent three asking where she was, if Morgan was with her, and begging her to get in touch. Nathalie did not leave as many as she had thought, only five, and all short:

Where are you!?

You lost your summer holiday as well!

I’m calling the police.

I won’t call the police.

I’m worried. Please respond.

She clicked to respond but her fingers did not move.

“Something the matter,” Morgan asked.

“Maybe we should’ve said something,” Nellie said. “Going off to find the Cumberland dragon seemed like a great idea last night, but–.”

“But now you see the consequences so are getting cold feet,” Morgan said. “You think anyone would’ve let us?”

“Amias might’ve if we asked him to come with us,” Nellie said. She then mumbled, “Probably would’ve been a good idea to bring a mage….”

She eyed the clock, estimating they were halfway through the return journey. She rubbed her hollow stomach, giggling at the growl from Morgan’s. Their driver would not be interested in stopping with how Morgan spoke down to him, and with the idea in his head that they were trying to run. She stared into her darkened phone screen, wetting her lips before waking it.

“What are you doing,” Morgan asked suspiciously.

She typed to Nathalie:

I’m sorry. We’ll be back in about an hour. We’re starving.

“You’re naive,” Morgan scoffed.

She visibly bristled, and glared daggers at her cousin. “I’m naive,” she spat. “You think you can just run around all willy-nilly, waving cash at people to get them to jump through your hoops! Nevermind you’re a small, skinny boy who still has baby teeth!”

Morgan clamped his mouth shut, curling his lips in to hide his teeth more–one of his canines missing, recently falling out. His mouth turned down exaggeratedly as his hazel eyes narrowed.

“I’ll have all my adult teeth someday,” Morgan said coolly, “but you’ll still embarrass yourself being a naive girl that uses terms like ‘willy-nilly’.”

Her hands balled up and she found herself taking deep breaths to avoid knocking out her cousin’s other baby teeth.

They sat quietly, stewing, as the fields zipped by. They looked at their phones; Nellie seeing her text was read but unanswered, Morgan’s chiming madly until he shut it off again.

“So… what’s Lisbon like,” Nellie asked.

“Vibrant, busy, but relaxed.”

“That’s a contradiction,” Nellie pointed out. She sighed at Morgan’s shrug “What’s your mom like?”

Morgan held up his phone, giving it a shake. “Worried.”

“It’s like pulling teeth to get anything out of you, you know that,” Nellie said. She laughed at his glare.

His shoulders relaxed a degree as he fought a smirk. He leaned up against his door, twisting to keep her in sight. His eyes dropped to the off phone in his hands before he tucked it into the pocket of his designer jeans.

“I’m an only child,” Morgan said. “You can tell I’ve no siblings by how she dotes and fusses. She has a few things she’s firm on, and upholds those strictly.”

“What kind of things,” Nellie asked.

“Boring things,” Morgan said, shrugging. He paused, and saw she was waiting for clarification. “Study marks. How I present in public. You know, boring things.”

“My… aunt, I guess, is obsessed with my grades right now,” Nellie said. “She’s trying to get me into the boarding school near our house. As a day student. That was the whole reason we moved here.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I don’t think either of us thought about what happens if I don’t get accepted….”

“Do you even want to go,” Morgan asked. “You seem withdrawn over the mention of it.”

Cold, creeping dread overcame her. Her mouth went dry, and her throat tightened. She had wanted to go to the Webb School, just like her mom had, but things were not the same anymore. It was no longer she and her mom scheming about study tactics in their small, Sunrise apartment; it was she and her aunt with an unspoken rift trying to pretend all the new changes either were not happening or they could simply talk through.

“I wish we never moved here,” Nellie said.

“It does leave much to be desired,” Morgan agreed.

“The ruralness is fine; it’s not that,” Nellie said. “My life imploded. Forget the bad school, lousy teachers, and meanspirited kids; I found out my mom was really my aunt, and everything just spiraled from there.” She hugged herself. “The worst part is… I don’t think she ever would’ve said anything to me if I didn’t stumble upon it myself.”

She woke up her phone screen and smiled. Ash was facing away from the camera to hide the fact his eyes were red, staring down the snowy driveway. He stood tall, but not quiet enough to hide his youthful lankiness. His blackness was starkly contrasted with the background, and he appeared soft and warm against the cold.

“Well… maybe I don’t totally regret it,” Nellie muttered.

“We were able to meet,” Morgan said. He glanced over. “Oh, you mean because of your…. What is it?”

“Smoke wolf,” Nellie said. “His name is Ash.” She grinned. “But, yeah, I did get to meet the only cousin my age I’ve got.”

They exchanged small smiles before turning to stare out their windows.

“I can’t see Amias allowing me to stay any longer after this,” Morgan said. “This was our one chance to search for the Cumberland dragon, and we bungled it.”

The Lexus turned down the driveway. Both of them leaned towards the middle of the car to stare out the windshield. The trees around the small house had gotten leaves, casting soft, billowy shadows on the asphalt. Ash appeared from one of the shadows that stretched over the Crown Victoria, causing their driver to hit his brakes and laugh nervously about not seeing the dog laying there earlier.

Nellie and Morgan exchanged a knowing look, their impish smirks being wiped from their faces before fully forming as Ash let loose a long, bone-chilling howl.

“Wuh-what kind of dog is that,” the driver asked weakly.

“Shepherd mix.”

They lingered in the backseat. Their failed quest would truly be over once they stepped outside. They would be separated; Nellie expected to be grounded until she started at Webb, Morgan’s fate was more of a mystery, but if his mother was strict about things like grades and manners, then he would not get off lightly either.

Nathalie stepped out of the house. She wore her fuzzy, once-white robe and crossed her arms tightly.

Nellie slunk out of the car. She braced as Ash ran to greet her, jabbing her with his nose roughly before streaking off into the forest. She gingerly approached Nathalie, finding she could not look into her furious face. She shuffled by her into the house and was shocked still.

Uncle Winston was sitting on the couch with Amias pacing the cramped kitchen. They were pointedly ignoring that the other man was there.

“Perenelle,” they cried in unison. They shot a look at each other, quietly acknowledging they would not be able to pretend the other was not there now that she arrived.

Uncle Winston hurried to her, grabbing her shoulders roughly and giving her a shake. “What in the blazes were you thinking, girl!”

“I-I-I– How are you–?”

“I was on a plane the moment Nathalie called saying you disappeared from your lunch yesterday,” Uncle Winston said. He gave her a hard look. “Do not wriggle out of this, Perenelle. Do you have any idea how worried everyone was?”

“Master Morgan,” Amias cried. 

He rushed from around the eat-in bar, stopping short of reaching Morgan. It did not seem to be Nathalie standing by with her pale face and cold eyes that stopped him, but more of it being some barrier between Morgan and Amias, with the boy now adopting a more rigid posture than what Nellie had seen all day.

“Amias,” Morgan said curtly. His hazel eyes looked the man over. “You’re a mess.”

“He’s fine,” Nathalie said coolly, glaring down at Morgan. She gestured to the counter. “Please, sit, Mr. Baig. Another coffee?”

“Thank you, dear lady,” Amias said, tears prickling in his dark eyes.

He took his fresh cup with trembling hands. His nerves were more frazzled than during lunch yesterday. His hair was a complete mess, even his thin moustache looked unkempt. He was sallow and his clothes looked like something he pulled from his dirty pile, far too wrinkled and sloppily put on.

Uncle Winston forced her to sit next to him on the couch. He patted her knee with a grim clench in his jaw.

“Sit down, Morgan,” Nathalie said.

“Morgan,” the boy hissed. “What gives you the familiarity?”

Nathalie put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “This is America, kid. You’re lucky enough I went with your name and not an unsavory term.” She pointed to a barstool next to Amias. “Sit.”

Morgan sat.

Nathalie rummaged in the freezer. She popped frozen waffles into the toaster, grabbed plates, forks, butter knives, and syrup. The house stayed in tense silence except for the noise of her making plates for Nellie and Morgan. She set one plate before Morgan, and the other on the coffee table before Nellie.

Nellie ate her toaster-defrosted waffles hungrily and speedily, as if afraid Nathalie would whisk them away as part of her coming punishment.

“What were you thinking,” Uncle Winston said, cutting the silence. “First, you vanish from lunch. Then, you vanish from your room. You’re beyond lucky we hadn’t called the police.” His blue eyes shot to Amias.

“It had to stay quiet,” Amias murmured into his cup. “The Regere….”

“My father,” Morgan scoffed. “Like he’d notice.”

“Of course he would notice,” Amias snapped, causing all the house to jump. “And if not immediately, then you know your mother would bring his attention!” He shut his eyes, breathing deeply with his hand over his heart. “Oh, poor Evora.”

“...My aunt’s name is Evora,” Nellie asked.

“Not now, Perenelle,” Nathalie hissed.

“Then when, Aunt Nathalie,” Nellie spat.

The air was sucked out of the room. Nellie immediately felt tears prickle her eyes at Nathalie’s stunned expression, watching it slip into hurt. Her insides squirmed and she stared at her lap with her lip trembling.

Uncle Winston rubbed her back before standing to go to his sister. He said something to her in a low tone the others could not hear.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” Nellie said, the tears coming. “I didn’t mean–.” She choked off in a heartily sniff.

“Nellie,” Nathalie said calmly. “It’s all right.” She tried to smile but it did not work well. “I am your aunt. You said nothing wrong.”

“I’m not so intimate with this part of the family drama,” Morgan said, turning from the last bits of soggy waffle to face the others. “What happened now? With me and Nellie? Am I to go back to my mother and pretend I never went adventuring with my cousin?”

“That’s what you call disappearing in the night,” Uncle Winston said coldly. “Young man, clearly you’ve not been given proper boundaries.”

“We were looking for Ira,” Nellie defended. She shrugged. “Sort of. He must’ve been here looking for the Cumberland dragon before Cecily was spooked by that white screamer. Morgan thought it was possible he was here again since he didn’t get to finish that quest.”

“Amina koyayim,” Amias breathed, “you two were trying to find a dragon!”

Uncle Winston looked at Nathalie and Amais with a disbelieving scowl. “Pardon?”

“I’m sure Mr. Baig will fill us in on the details later,” Nathalie said. She collected herself and took the vacant seat next to Nellie. She took her hand. “We did have a bit of a chat while we waited to see if you children were alive.” (Nellie shifted uncomfortably.) “You have a few days left of your break. If Morgan’s mother permits it, then he may keep you company during your house arrest.”

“What about the dragon,” Nellie asked carefully. “We ruled out Cumberland City and Cumberland Furnace.”

“Now is not the time,” Uncle Winston said. “Why don’t you children go to your room, or see to that dog of yours. Give us time to discuss things further. Perhaps even contact this Evora woman.”

Morgan moved first. He jumped off the stool. “Show me your room, Nellie.” He stared hard at Amias. “Fetch me should you need help with my mom.”

Nellie peeked at Nathalie as she ushered Morgan to her room. Her stomach was a pit despite the waffles.

---------------------------------

Wish I had time to put in a proper comment, but there is a screaming kid. Quick note: Evora is a region in Portugal and also the title of a Stromae song dedicated to a singer with that surname. The swear Amias says has an absolutely horrible direct translation, but I guess it's commonly used how it was used here. I spent waaaaay too long looking up how Uber Black worked, and if these areas here had it, and so long I killed my momentum naming Evora. I'm not totally satisfied with it.

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Song: "Pageant"

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Page 3


Aria: Kallista, my dear! Where is Sapphyre?

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Song: "Koudamare"

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Shael: ...Phyre!

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Shael: It's storming on the surface.

Kalli: Then let's return to the Enclave.

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DO.Penny.2

Penny poured over the thick, old book filled with detailed sketches and accounts of fantastical creatures. They ranged from the cute jackalopes to the charming domovoy to the awe inspiring unicorn to the powerful thunderbird, and all those that fell between. She quickly shoved it under her tangle of blankets as a knock sounded on her door; it opening half a minute later.

Mother Mary Clare shuffled in. She had a tenseness independent of her arthritis.

“Penrose, dear, I’ll handle your extracurricular lesson today,” she said. “Sister Mary Agnes has another matter.”

She pulled the book from the covers and flipped to the creature she’d been staring at before. The picture was of three creatures that looked like leg-filled white pants with the waist rounded up like the top of a head peaking out. They each had a pair of beady, black eyes.

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“Fresno Nightcrawlers? No, dear. I was born much further south near Los Angeles.” She eased onto the edge of the bed. “I have seen jackalopes by the dozens when I was a girl. I'm not quite as sensitive as you, and of course nowhere near as Sister Mary Agnes.”

Penny looked at her hands. “I probably don’t have magic,” she said, frowning.

“It’s more unusual to have it than to not.”

Magic and sensitivity was strong in the Fox family. Aisling—Sister Mary Agnes—told her bits and pieces about the family when she pestered her enough. There were a lot of mages on her grandmother’s side, and while she herself was not a mage, she did marry one. Aisling was the only one of the three children with magic, but the other two—Connor and Keena (Penny’s mother)--had both been sensitive to magic and creatures.

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Penny helped the old woman up, and tried not to focus on how slow she was walking to keep pace with her as they headed for her room. She jumped and spun on the spot as a shriek ripped through the hall. Hurried, heavy footsteps echoed as two bulky nurses rushed by.

“Steady, Penrose,” Mother Mary Clare said soothingly. “It sounds like one of the others is having a moment. Nothing to fret over.”

Her green eyes caught a boy two years older, tossing around on the ground, beating it and kicking as the nurses tried to restrain him. A puzzle lay scattered around him. She inched closer to the Mother and focused on moving ahead.

Penny tore damaged seams from Mother Mary Clare’s old habits and skirts. She listened as the Mother spoke in calm, soothing tones about the earliest days of the Holy Cor, back when they were still heavily integrated in the Church. Fear of demons turned to fear of mages–confusing them with witches and humanoid creatures possessing magic–and the Holy Cor began to retreat from the public eye. With part of their duty being to educate mages so that they were not a danger to others or themselves, they believed the seclusion was best.

She rubbed her thumb over a small, embroidered heart tucked on the underside of a shirt cuff. The heart was surrounded by golden flames and a silver halo; the mark of the Holy Cor.

“Do the Sisters that serve the Holy See have a hidden embroidery,” Penny asked.

“No, that is just for us.” The Mother stitched a hem with steadied practice. “We serve the Holy See as well as the Holy Cor. Our embroidery is just to mark each other should we need to discuss something of the Realm.” She smiled up at Penny. “Such as children. We ensure there are at least two that serve in homes like this to watch for young mages. Others work in hospitals to watch for people injured or sickened by more unusual means.”

“And then you contact the Order of Ferblanc, right?”

“If necessary,” Mother Mary Clare said, nodding. “Magic is power, and power corrupts. They’re needed for the unfortunate times we see this happen.” She shook her head, tutting. “Too many people now ignore God’s laws, and that goes for modern mages too. Penrose, dear, please rip the embroideries out as well. The shirts are going for donation.”

She gathered up the shirts again. She stared at the embroidery for a pause before piercing it and tearing at it.

“Is there something weighing on your mind, child?”

“Only a bit… I’ve heard a little about my mother, but….”

“But, nothing of your father?” Mother Mary Clare nodded knowingly, eyes still fixed on her stitching. “I warned Sister Mary Agnes not to feed into your questions.”

Penny wasn’t sure what Mother Mary Clare knew. She had scolded her before for not using Aisling’s nun name, but she was not certain the Mother had been informed that she was aware that Aisling was her aunt.

Aisling was more forthcoming when speaking about Connor and her parents—Deirdre and Malachy—than she was Keena. Penny put together that the strain between the sisters started around the time Connor died, but she had nothing to grasp beyond that.

“Nothing was mentioned of your father when you were surrendered,” the Mother continued. “He was left off the birth certificate. In this age of unwed mothers, there were no questions asked.”

She mulled over what the Mother said as she continued ripping the embroidered heart. Mother Mary Clare did not know Aisling until she was placed at the home, and did not know her mother. She would have to ask Aisling directly, and the thought made her insides squirm. She had never been brave enough to ask why she was given up, and her father being excluded from her birth certificate fell in that area.

A firm knock sounded, and Mother Mary Bernadette entered upon Mother Mary Clare’s encouragement. Her stern eyes fell to Penny for a long minute before going to the other old woman.

“Mother, little Nathan had another episode,” she said. “Unfortunately, he’s hurt himself. The director wants to see us.”

“Yes; yes, of course.” She struggled up. “We can continue later, Penrose. I’ll find you.”

Penny watched the two elder nuns shuffle off. She went the opposite way and found herself in the multipurpose room. The puzzle was picked up and put away. There was a boy rocking back and forth playing with a fidget popper and four girls tucked in another corner coloring thick books or making beaded bracelets. She hovered where she stood, recognizing that the girls were the various stages of non-verbal ones that lived at the home, and quietly left the room.

She found herself walking towards Aisling’s room without paying any attention. She had spent more than an hour at least with Mother Mary Clare, so gambled that Aisling was finished and didn’t alter her path. She slowed as she approached, the hairs on her neck standing before she even saw that the door was wide open.

“--the creeps,” came an unfamiliar male voice. “Places like this are just prisons.”

“You’re ridiculous,” answered a twinkling, female voice. “You saw those poor kids. They have nowhere else to go.”

“Just hurry up with the packing. I want gone before that Mother comes sniffing around.”

She poked her head around the doorway, keeping her weight on her back foot in case she needed to run for it.

Both figures were the definition of willowy; the man looking as if he was trying to transition out of a goth stage into something more age appropriate, and the woman giving off Christmas elf vibes despite the earthtones. They were removing Aisling’s more commonplace clothes from the small dresser and putting them in a suitcase.

“Ugh,” the man said, peering into the top drawer. “This is not appropriate. Britt should’ve been here.”

“She can’t travel right now. You know that. Oh, move over! I’ll pack the underclothes. See if she has trainers under her bed or something.”

Penny shuffled away with a queasiness in her stomach. These strangers were taking Aisling away. And, they were trying to do it before Mother Mary Clare noticed. She ran for the administration wing. She skidded on the tiled floor as she rounded a corner to stop from colliding with Aisling.

“You’re leaving,” Penny blurted before the young nun could get a word out. “There’s weirdos in your room. Packing up all your clothes.” 

She stepped back, taking in that Aisling was wearing a pair of jeans and black blouse. Her dark hair was still pulled back, but it wasn’t covered by a veil. Her eyes filled with tears as her heart raced. She sniffed, and turned to run off, but was caught by the arm and pulled into a hug.

“Ssh, Penny, it’s okay,” Aisling said softly. “I’m only going for a week or so.”

She stared hopefully up at Aisling, but felt sick dread. Aisling’s dark eyes were full of tears that she was fighting not to shed.

“Something’s wrong… Are you lying? You’re going away forever?”

“No, I’m not lying,” Aisling said. She looked at the floor. “I have a funeral to attend. It’s unexpected, so I'm just a little sad. That’s all.” She patted Penny’s hair. “We can talk when I come back. I don’t want to keep my friends waiting too long.” She hesitated a minute before placing a kiss on Penny’s head. “See you in a week.”

“Okay… Sorry about your loss, Aisling. I’ll light a candle in the chapel tonight.”

Aisling’s mouth screwed up as she either fought speech or a cry. She gave a melancholy smile, wiped her eyes, and hurried off.

Penny stood at a loss. There was no reason for her to be in the administration wing now that Aisling herself clarified what was happening. There was nothing for her in the all purpose room to do or anyone for her to talk to. Mother Mary Clare was still–as far as she knew–busy with other business.

“Ah, Penrose Fox,” a voice came, startling her from her thoughts. 

A pudgy, old man approached with an even pudgier woman with cropped blonde hair that looked as if it had been bleached, dyed something, and the dye washed out. She knew the man as the St. Brigid’s director. It took her a minute longer to realize the woman was her new case worker.

“Hello, Mr. Miller,” Penny mumbled.

“We were just speaking about you,” Mr. Miller said. His fake joyfulness waned at Penny’s long, silent look. “Anywho… Ms. King found you a placement.”

“I wanted to tell you the good news in person,” Ms. King piped in. She smiled a wide, fake smile. “We had such a short time together, but I really enjoyed meeting you.”

Her eyes darted from one to the other. Short was an understatement. They had their first and only meeting last month, and now it sounded like she was already passing her off. It confused her. She hadn’t mentioned fairies, or magic, or anything deemed abnormal during their meeting.

“Wait,” Mother Mary Clare demanded, hobbling as quickly as she was able. “Wait just a moment, Mr. Miller!” Mother Mary Bernadette, stern as usual, walked by her side as if ready to drag her along. “This is too sudden. We must—.”

“Sometimes it’s sudden,” Ms. King said, all niceties dropped. “You might have all the time in the world to mull something over, but in the real world, things move quickly.”

Mother Mary Bernadette grabbed her crucifix and muttered something about patience under her breath as she glared at the case worker.

“Please, Mr. Miller,” Mother Mary Clare pleaded. “Wait a week. Perhaps two. Penrose—.”

“Is a normal, healthy, kid with no behavioral issues or disabilities of any note,” Ms. King said icily. “Keeping her here is cruel and unusual.” She scoffed. “What fixation do you have with her? It’s not normal. It should be looked into.”

“No need to be hasty,” Mr. Miller said nervously. “The Mother Superior just has high empathy and concern. For all children, not just Penrose.”

“She’s far too involved,” Ms. King said sniffily. “Worse than her is that Sister Mary Agnes. Some sick twist of fate that her mother died now to call her off.”

Penny gasped loud enough to draw notice from both Mothers. She hastily shut her mouth, but her lip shook. She had been so casual with Aisling. She should’ve said something more meaningful.

An odd sense of loss crept into her chest.

“This is extremely inappropriate,” Mother Mary Bernadette said. “Not only to drag Sister Mary Agnes’s personal affairs into this, but to be having such conversation in front of little Penrose.” She put a heavy hand on Penny’s shoulder. “The girl is only nine.”

“You can understand Ms. King’s reasons,” Mr. Miller urged. “We have three new arrivals scheduled this week; two of which are non-verbal. It really isn’t fair to keep Penrose here.”

“Of course, but just wait a week,” Mother Mary Clare said. “This isn’t a placement around the corner.”

“Or is it because you want to call this Sister Mary Agnes to interfere," Ms. King said nastily. She fixed Mr. Miller with a stare. “We’ll talk later tonight. You know what’s right here, and it isn’t letting these women run amok. I thought you were in charge?”

She shrank next to Mother Mary Bernadette as her case worker faked a smile at her. Mr. Miller scurried off, sweat clinging to his brow.

“They aren’t wrong,” Mother Mary Bernadette said, “but they are handling it wrong.” She drew herself up. “I’ll try speaking with the director. If only to calm him down.”

“I’m being sent away,” Penny asked once she and Mother Mary Clare were alone. “But… what if I’m a mage? There’s still time.”

Mother Mary Clare shook her head. “It is time for you to try a family again, but I disagree with the hastiness. There is little doubt your new case worker doesn’t favor religious involvement.”

“But, Aisling—Sister Mary Agnes….”

“We can only pray Mother Mary Bernadette gets Mr. Miller to see reason,” she said. “A week gives you time to say your goodbyes, and us time to interview the family.” Her droopy, wrinkled face fell. “I find it distasteful that you are supposed to be sent to them out in West Virginia, then for them to come to you. But that is my burden.”

“W-West Virginia?” Penny paled. “B-but, that’s a different state. That’s hours from here! Days!”

“Hours, Penrose, dear,” Mother Mary Clare said calmly. “I’m sure they won’t oppose to you writing or calling from time to time.”

Her head was filled with static at all these facts. She was being sent farther than ever before, with no option for visits. Aisling was gone, and would return to find her gone. Tears cut down her face and Mother Mary Clare offering a comforting hand made them fall harder.

“Aisling…” she sniffed. “Her mom died. My grandma… I wanted to….” She wiped her eyes with her forearm. “They won’t understand. They’ll give me back too.”

“Don’t go into this with negativity, Penrose,” Mother Mary Clare said. “This could be a long term placement. That would be a great blessing for you.” She ushered Penny into a hug, smoothing her hair. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll send Sister Mary Agnes to bring you back. You’ll have a home here no matter what happens.”

Penny wished the Mother’s words brought their usual comfort.

-------------------------

A little late, but name reveal! Penny is not short for Penelope. Way, way, way back when she was a vague name concept, she probably was a Penelope, but I kept running into the Cornish name 'Penrose' which I felt fit much better since you have Ira and Nellie both having English connections. Keena is apparently Irish/Gaelic in origin (the rest of the family got the same origin when I named them) so just more of a nod than the Greek Penelope.

I didn't name Aisling's (Keena's) friends yet, because I don't know if they're coming back. Out of her band of "supporting characters" they're the most inconsequental. Silas is the most prominent storywise, and he was introduced in Nellie's book/s. Britt (Arden's mom) was too. Which, the reason Britt can't travel is either she's very close to Arden being born or he's recently born. I didn't tack down a birth month for him, and the months are vague in this (summer sometime since Penny isn't in school).

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July 18, 2026
DO.Penny.1

The fluorescent overhead emitted a dull hum. It filled the cramped office overflowing with untidy boxes of files with a too-bright white light. It flickered, drawing her green eyes up to the humidity stained ceiling.

“And you like to be called Penny,” said the frumpy, rail- thin woman. She peered at Penny over thick glasses that magnified her chunky mascara. “Hm… Penny. It's cute. Hm… your last case worker didn't leave me much to work with….”

Penny kicked her feet, her toes brushing the floor. “I think they didn’t stay even a year?”

“Hm…,” the case worker murmured noncommittally. “St. Brigid’s Home is your primary residence…” She looked at Penny over her glasses. “Are you forced to go to Mass?”

“I don’t know,” Penny said, still swinging her legs.

“Don’t know….” The case worker flipped through the folder. “Been in care since infancy. Surrendered… Nothing else on the mother… No mention of father whatsoever….”

“My other name is Fox,” Penny said helpfully. “That came from my mom.”

The case worker gave her a tired, thin smile. She set the folder aside but kept it open. She set her gaze on Penny, keeping silent long enough for the small girl to start squirming.

“Do you like living in the group home? Do you feel you get enough attention?”

A soft knock sounded on the doorframe, the office having no door but only half a curtain. The young woman’s plain, dark shoes, black stockings, and ankle length blue-gray skirt were visible before she gently brushed the curtain aside. She wore a matching blue-gray veil pinned to her black hair and a smile that matched the softness she had knocked with.

“Sister,” Penny greeted joyfully, jumping off her chair.

“I assume you’re from St. Brigid’s,” the case worker asked.

“I am. Sister Mary Agnes,” she said with a small incline of her head. She smiled down at Penny, offering her hand. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Can we talk a moment first,” the case worker asked. She gestured to the open file. “Her file is really bare. I could use a little help.”

The Sister hesitated. She gave Penny another smile–this one more forced–and gave her a light push towards the doorway.

“Please, wait in the hall for me,” she said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Penny gave the Sister a quizzical look but went into the hall without fuss. She leaned against the wall and casually looked up and down the hall at the other case workers’ offices. Murmurs and mutters from the other doorless offices filled the hall in an uninteresting muddle.

“Mary Agnes, you said? How long have you been involved with Penny?”

“Always… to some degree. I’m acquainted with her birth mother. In a caretaker role, I’d say the last two years. …Of course, I’m only one of many Sisters.”

“Hm… she was in specialized infant care, I assume? Then to the home… then to a family…. What happened there? It’s more common for young children to stay with families than go back to a group home. Learning disability? Behavioral issue?”

“You would have to ask the Mother Superior.”

“Would you oppose her placement with a family?”

“My opinion matters naught in that.”

“Is she forced to attend Mass and other religious activities?”

The Sister laughed lightly. “Ma’am, she missed Mass for this interview with you.”

“Her file is still unusually bare.”

“Well… I’m not sure what sorts of things are usually in a six-year-old’s file….”

“Thank you, Sister. I’ll be in touch.”

Penny eagerly took Sister Mary Agnes’s hand as she left the office. She watched the rundown town give way to ill-kempt lawns, and then to a stretch of woods after a sharp turn in the road. A large building that looked like an old one-story nursing home sat on top of a gently sloping hill behind an iron fence that was rusted in some areas and broken in others.

An old woman with gnarled hands and sagging eyes met them in the foyer. She had a tallness to her despite being stooped on a walking stick. Her outfit was the same color blue-gray as Sister Mary Agnes’s, but her veil and skirt were longer and she wore a clunky crucifix around her neck.

Sister Mary Agnes hastily dropped Penny’s hand.

“How did you like your new case worker, Penrose, dear?”

Penny shrugged. “Guess okay.”

“An okay first meeting can only go up from there. Run along and wash up. Snack will be served soon.”

Penny hurried from the foyer, but slowed when she realized Sister Mary Agnes was not following. She turned a corner, waivered, and doubled back.

“--found a family for her.”

“She already did? And already called you?” Sister Mary Agnes scowled. “That is a bit too fast, isn’t it? I only left the office fifteen minutes ago.”

“Penrose is a pretty child. Foster mothers can easily imagine dressing her up and doing her hair.”

“Forgive me, Mother Mary Clare, but I worry about the foster mothers wanting a pretty, little girl to play doll with, and I worry more about the foster fathers also wanting a pretty, little girl.”

“You should not think the worst of people, Sister Mary Agnes.”

“Sorry….”

“I don’t need an apology,” the Mother said. “It is not me that wants you to bring the good out in others.”

Penny shifted uncomfortably where she stood. Sister Mary Agnes wore a strange, uncharacteristically disgruntled expression on her fair face.

“You are much too close to this,” the Mother said. “You did right to disclose your relationship to her when you requested to join us, but you also promised that was secondary to your vows to serve our Lord through our Lady.”

“Yes… Mother Superior.”

“She may be your niece, but you are to serve all the children equally. You are an aunt to all of them. And you should do what is best by them, and that is placing them with families.”

“Yes, Mother Superior….”

“Take heart, Sister,” the Mother said kindly. “We often receive updates and Christmas cards from former charges. This will not be the last you hear from her.”

Two days later, Penny found herself once more in the car with Sister Mary Agnes. The ride was much longer than going into town to visit the case worker. It was quieter with an uneasier air.

The scene outside the window had a few rundown houses, some mobile homes, and a lot of trees that somehow came across sad and old. One of the homes had nicer flowerbeds and a littering of toys in the small, front yard. Three cars were crowded in the narrow driveway. The case worker stood outside in the yard with a middle-aged couple, a teen girl, a girl near Penny’s age, and a toddler dressed in blue overalls.

“They look nice,” the Sister said. “The little girl could be your new best friend.”

“Maybe…,” Penny muttered. “Do Sisters have last names?”

“We do,” she said, looking in the rearview. “Our birth names are still our legal names. My driver’s license doesn’t say Sister Mary Agnes, for example.”

“Then… we still have the same name,” Penny asked.

The smile slowly fell from the Sister’s face. She turned in her seat, fixing Penny with a surprised and sad expression. She offered her hand which Penny reached forward to take.

“Call, write, whatever you want whenever you need me,” she said. “I’m only an hour away. You can visit if you want.” She nodded towards the family. “You just have to ask. They seem kind. I’m sure they’ll allow it.”

The placement lasted six months.

She found herself in her case worker's office with her about-to-be former foster mother. Her toes dragged now no matter if she was kicking or not. The light above still buzzed and flickered in an annoying way.

The case worker stared at the new notes in the file with a puzzled frown. She pursed her lips and straightened up, setting her stare upon the foster mother.

“I’m not understanding the issue,” she said carefully. Her eyes momentarily darted to Penny. “She’s six.”

“Almost seven,” Penny chimed up.

“I can’t explain it any better,” the foster mother said stiffly. “And I won’t with her sitting here.”

“Ma’am… you want to give her back because she believes in fairies,” the case worker said bluntly.

“No. No, that makes it sound—. It’s more than that. It’s….” She shot to her feet. “I’m allowed to give them back if they don’t adjust to the family. We’ve tried. It isn’t working.” She looked down at Penny with pity and apprehension. “I hope you can get the help you need, Penny. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? It isn’t your fault.”

She stalked from the office, nearly colliding with Sister Mary Agnes on her way out. She muttered “good luck” at her before vanishing down the hall.

Penny smiled and waved eagerly at the Sister as she came to stand by her chair. She rested her thin hand on her shoulder, and returned her smile.

“Can I take Penny back now,” the Sister asked.

“You don’t want to know why the placement didn’t work?”

“I believe it not appropriate to talk about that in front of the child. The Mother Superior is expecting a full report though.”

The case worker tapped her fingers on her desk. “Hm… if you have time, I’ll give her a call now to give her the gist and see what she wants to do from there.”

She took the Sister’s hand and went out into the hall. She tried to settle against the wall just outside the open doorway, but the Sister took her further down, away from the offices, to an old, beaten bench at the start of the hall. Penny leaned forward to stare back down the hall at the office.

“Curious,” the Sister asked, a smirk tugging her lips.

“Do you believe in fairies,” Penny asked.

“Of course. I’ve seen a fairy or two in my time.”

Her green eyes lit up. She stopped looking down the hall and stared up at the Sister’s face. There were no signs of lying; her smile was gentle as usual, not teasing. She peered down the hall to make sure no one was coming, and slid closer to the Sister.

“Is this because we’re related,” she whispered.

“I think so…” 

The Sister also checked the hall, more apprehensively. She held her palm flat, turning to shield it from the hall. She held a finger to her lips to indicate quiet, and a second later a bright, golden light emanated from her outstretched palm. The light bubbled like a fountain slowly turning on, and formed into a tiny golden flower.

Penny gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth to stop her squeal of delight. She gave a small, disappointed “aww” when the flower was snuffed out.

“Magic sensitivity is strong in our family. I think that’s why you’re having trouble in your placements; because, this is not something most people have.”

“Is it a secret,” Penny asked breathlessly.

The Sister’s expression turned from gentle into something Penny couldn’t define. She seemed sad, but also kind of angry.

“Not on purpose,” she said carefully. “People just… stopped believing. I don’t know if forcing belief would do more harm than good.”

“Like with God?”

“Similar, at least,” she said with a small laugh. The light fell from her dark eyes as they fell upon her hand. “This is a gift from God, but sometimes people dispute that. Even those who have high faith.”

“Does Mother Mary Clare know you have magic?”

“She does. She serves the Holy Cor same as me, but the other Sisters and Mother Mary Bernadette do not. Mother Mary Clare believes it is best to do our service in silence, and keep our connections to the Realm quiet.” She smiled at Penny, patting her hair. “I’ll explain what I can of that later. Now that you’re older, I’m sure the Mother won’t mind me tutoring you between my other duties.”

“Am I a witch too,” Penny asked eagerly.

“I’m not a witch. I’m a mage. Witches are something different. As for you, I don’t know yet. You might just be sensitive. Your moth—.”

The Sister stopped. Her eyes went over Penny’s head, down the hall. She stood with a gentle smile once more on her face, and stepped forward to meet the case worker before she reached the bench. They exchanged some words Penny couldn’t hear from her seat before the Sister returned.

“Mother Mary Clare wants us home,” she said. “The goal is still to place you with a family, but we have all the time before then.”

They reentered St. Brigid’s hand in hand, but Sister Mary Agnes quickly dropped Penny’s hand when Mother Mary Clare stepped from her office to cut them off. A large woman, just as old or older, joined them. Mother Mary Bernadette wore her usual severe expression.

“Well then, Penrose,” Mother Mary Bernadette said, staring down at Penny, “back again? No matter. I’ve decided to add my resources as well.” Penny shrank back from the Mother’s attempted smile. “We will find you a proper home. Never fear.”

The two elder nuns exchanged a look as Mother Mary Bernadette walked off. Mother Mary Clare gave Penny a nervous smile and a pat on the head.

“I’m sorry, Penrose, dear,” she said. “Mother Mary Bernadette was in my office when your case worker called.”

“Is that bad,” Penny asked.

“No… That’s too negative for her want to help you,” the Mother said. Her pale, watery eyes met Sister Mary Agnes’s. “She’s heard about the fairies. She doesn’t believe it to be more than a child’s imagination, but she wants to keep an eye on it. …The foster mother’s notes were rather hysterical.”

“Actually, I was telling Penny that she’s old enough to start learning about the Realm,” the Sister said. “After all my other duties, of course. And, only until her next placement.”

The Mother took a long, hard stare at Penny, making her squirm. “Does she have magic?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. She’s still young, so she could. Or, she could just be sensitive to it.”

“One is more manageable than the other in placing her with a family….” The Mother hobbled towards her office. “I’ll hold Mother Mary Bernadette at bay. We at the very least need to know if she’s a mage before she’s placed again.”

Penny beamed up at Sister Mary Agnes once they were left alone. She grabbed her hand and yanked her into a brisk walk, eager to hear all about magic.

--------------------------------

Using the Dragon Orphans (but abbriviated) for the title! I'm not sure how to ex[lain/better show the group home structure. There aren't any nun run orphanages anymore, but there are still group homes (usually for problem kids) that have some Catholic Charities influence, so nuns will go serve in them. But, since Penny's early story touches more on the Holy Cor, I'm mostly showing the nuns with case worker meetings.

The Brothers and Sisters follow a lot of the Marian Order traditions, so all Sisters have 'Mary' as the first half of their name. I picked Agnes because my great grandmother was an Agnes, and it is apparently a commonish name for nuns to pick if they've experiences some type of loss. Agnes also starts with 'A' the same as her birth/legal name. (Mary Agnes is named Aisling and will be called that in chpt 2, so not a spoiler.)

I was going to have Penny spot a fairy as she was being passed over to that foster family, but it was much more jarring to not do that. Then you get the confusion with her case worker like 'okay she's a little girl and they like fairies'. Case worker was not named because, not a spoiler, Penny will have a different one next chapter. They have a very high rate of burnout and turnover.

I did not expect this chapter to urn out this quick, lol. I'm rushing a bit to get what needs covered in her childhood done.

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