Firebrand Risk
P.Track.21
January 19, 2026

Nellie found herself back at Silas’s compound the following afternoon. Arch excused himself right away to go rest, leaving the others to pester her and Calix for the gritty details. Calix was more than happy to tell everyone about the snallygaster and the praise he received from the Regere. Nellie took it as a chance to sneak off to the stables.

Hodge was snoozing on his cloven feet. The sunlight from his slotted window caught his dapples causing golden shimmers on his haunches. He started shifting and bobbing his head, his nostrils flaring.

Morgan leaned up against the door, keeping his distance to not disturb Hodge further.

“So, how was it really?”

“He used me as bait,” Nellie said coolly.

Morgan looked unsurprised and shrugged. “I may’ve told him about Ash…. Or, my mother did. Or Amias…. Someone did.”

“What’s Ash have to do with anything,” Nellie asked defensively.

“You can’t think having a pet cryptid is normal,” Morgan said. His hazel eyes darted to Hodge. “Penny’s odd too.”

It never occurred to her that she was still the odd one. She could not wield fire or create gollums. She had not spent her childhood learning to swing a sword or make arrows. She assumed everyone had run-ins with creatures, and that some of them had nontraditional pets even if only for a few days.

She paled. “Did you tell him about Cecily,” she asked urgently. “Does he know Ira has a gryphon?”

“I’d be shocked if he didn’t,” Morgan said. “His highness may’ve been some random twenty-something to you, but for all of us familiar with the Realm we’ve been aware of the small details of his life.”

Hodge let loose an irate bray that nearly had Nellie jump out of her skin.

Brody ran by Morgan, skidding to a halt on the loose straw. His dark eyes were wide and he was panting to catch his breath.

“There you are,” he said. He gulped at the air. “S-sorry, Hodge. Nellie, you’ve got to get back to the house.”

Nellie tore off after Brody with Morgan on her heels. The patio at the top of the hill was crowded with people. It looked like all the kids were outside, and Nellie could make out the short, stout figure of Mrs. Adams standing before them with her cane glittering in the summer light. She was facing down a man that Nellie recognized almost immediately as Uncle Winston.

“Uncle Winston,” Nellie called out, quickening her pace. She collided into him, squeezing him tightly. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“You know this man, Miss Herle,” Mrs. Adams asked stiffly.

“She’s my niece, as previously stated” Uncle Winston said, putting a protective hand on Nellie’s shoulder.

Silas hurried from the glass door onto the patio with Lilac hovering by his shoulder. The excited light dimmed in her eyes when they spotted Nellie, and boredom slowly crept onto her face as Silas motioned for calm.

“Mr. Herle, I presume," Silas said in his soothing, rich voice. “I take it Nathalie gave you the address.” He gestured towards the door. “Should we go inside?”

“That’ll be quite all right,” Uncle Winston said. “I’ll be taking Perenelle home now.”

“What? No,” Nellie protested, ducking out from his grip. “I don’t want to leave.”

The kids were all leaning forward in anticipation. The excitement returned to Lilac’s eyes. Fin and Brody whispered to each other.

“Mrs. Adams,” Silas muttered at her.

“Inside, children,” Mrs. Adams ordered.

Ava gave Nellie an encouraging smile as she filed inside behind Arden.

“I’m staying,” Morgan said defiantly, crossing his arms.

The look on Uncle Winston’s face clearly indicated that he remembered Morgan and that he was not thrilled to see him again. She had seen him make the same face whenever her cousin Lillian talked about boys (prior to the one she was now engaged to).

“Master Morgan–,” Silas pleaded.

“I’m staying.” Morgan dropped on one of the plush, sky blue patio chairs.

Nellie strode over and took the seat next to him. She crossed her legs and folded her arms, hoping it came across as defiant and not plain bratty.

“Very well; it matters absolutely not if you’re here or not,” Uncle Winston said. “Perenelle is going home. End of discussion.”

She tensed at the authority in Uncle Winston’s tone. She was ready to scramble up to her room and pack.

“I don’t even know what this is–?”

“What this is all about, Mr. Javernick, is that my little sister called me in a state saying that… that man has caused her physical harm,” Uncle Winston said icily. He glared down at Silas being easily a head and a half taller. “You assured her, no, promised her that him appearing here would be of no concern. You swore to her that Perenelle going off with him was in her very best interest, and that she couldn’t be any safer. Is all that correct?”

Morgan had also lost his bravado as Uncle Winston went on. He slouched in his chair like trying to fuse with it.

“Nellie,” Silas said, turning towards her, “where you hurt?”

“The snallygaster nicked me, but Mrs. Monroe healed–.”

“Mr. Javernick,” Uncle Winston interrupted, fuming, “you dare tell me you were not informed? Are you trying to pin blame on a mere girl?”

“Uncle Winston! That’s unfair,” Nellie said. “I just got here.”

“Do telephones not exist?”

There would be no talking to Uncle Winston. He was in full lawyer mode. Nellie thought Silas was handling it very well; he was only a fraction paler than usual.

The unmistakable pressure of the Regere approaching caused her to climb to her feet. He appeared in the glass door before opening it and joining them.

He had changed clothes. He wore a relaxed, European suit without a tie and blazer. The beechwood loafers he held were so polished they hurt Nellie’s eyes to look at them.

“I’ll be off,” the Regere said. He set his pale blue eyes on Uncle Winston. “Mr. Herle, please, walk with me.”

“I beg your pardon, young man,” Uncle Winston said, taken aback.

“Oh, that’s right,” the Regere said with a small, fake laugh. “We haven’t met before, have we? No, my wife acted as proxy during the guardianship hearings.”

The color drained from Uncle Winston. “Y-you’re–!” He stiffened, swallowing whatever unpleasent thing it was he wished to say. “You are not at all how I expected.”

“Younger, by the ‘young man’ comment,” the Regere said. He gestured off the patio. “Would you?”

“I will not,” Uncle Winston said. “We English can beat around it all day, but let me just cut to it and say that my brother made his wishes perfectly clear, and it was foolish of Nathalie to bend those wishes.”

“I’m technically American despite my slight accent, so,” the Regere said, “let me be blunt; Perenelle isn’t going anywhere.”

Uncle Winston went from being too pale to too red. His fists shook as he bared his teeth in fury. It was the angriest Nellie had ever seen him, and it made her shake in her seat.

“Let me clarify a bit,” the Regere said, glancing at a shiny watch on his wrist. “Our niece,” he stressed, “needs to learn how to handle herself. I’ll trust Silas to clear things up from there.” He headed off the porch and towards the driveway. “Morgan, behave.”

Silas pinched his eyes with a heavy sigh as the Regere disappeared around the corner. He took a few breaths, straighted, and smiled warmly at Uncle Winston.

“Mr. Herle, a cup of tea,” Silas offered. “We can conference Nathalie in my office.”

Uncle Winston eyed Silas but ultimately relented and allowed himself to be ushered indoors. Nellie saw Silas pull Calix and Arch from the kids scattering to hide they had attempted eavesdropping; the four of them vanishing down the windowed hall towards Silas’s office.

Fin, Lilac, and Ava slipped out the doors onto the patio.

“Was that tall, dark, and handsome man your uncle,” Lilac asked, looking wistfully over her shoulder at the house. “Does he have a son?”

“Are you really leaving,” Ava asked anxiously.

“She’s not,” Morgan said.

“You seem sure,” Fin said doubtfully.

“My father said she wasn’t leaving, so she’s not,” Morgan said coolly. He looked Fin up and down. “Ah, right, you’re the not-so-secret love child. You don’t have a firm grasp on a father’s word.”

Fin exploded at Morgan, lunging and grabbing him by his shirt. Nellie and Ava jumped away with their eyes wide at the sudden movement. Lilac tried to intervene, was knocked away, and let loose a long, shrill hiss.

Nellie coughed as the patio was engulfed with green smoke. Her eyes stung, watering to the point she could not see. She stumbled, fell over a chair, and crawled. She felt grass beneath her fingers and rolled down the gentle slope, away from the cloud of smoke. She breathed in the fresh air and dabbed at her streaming eyes.

Ava staggered over with her hands over her nose and mouth. Her eyes were bloodshot behind her glasses.

“Wuh-what was that,” Nellie croaked.

“Lilac.” Ava removed her glasses to wipe her eyes. “She set off a grenade.”

“Gre-grenade?”

“What on this earth is happening out here,” Mrs. Adams’s voice came angrily from among the dispersing cloud. “Miss Maebry, to my office at once!”

The cloud had now dissipated enough to see Lilac, Fin, and Morgan. Morgan had tripped on a chair and was draped over it, coughing with his eyes watering. Fin was scrambling up to defend Lilac who was nonchalantly following Mrs. Adams back inside on floaty steps.

“Morgan,” Nellie called, storming over as he and Fin eyeballed each other. “Knock it off!”

“Me? He attacked me,” Morgan said sulkily. “Yell at him!”

“You were rude,” Nellie said, crossing her arms.

Morgan was taken aback. “How?”

Fin pat Nellie on the shoulder, giving her a weak smile. “It’s okay, Nell,” he said. He glared at Morgan. “I’m going to go beg for Mrs. Adams to take it easy on Lilac.” He drew himself up, exhaling a long sigh. “Sorry I went off on you, little guy. Catch you girls later.”

Morgan had an expression like he drank vinegar. He glared daggers at Fin’s retreating form, his jaw too tight to spit anything at him.

Nellie decided to let him stew and headed off to the gardens with Ava. She filled her in on the snallygaster, but danced around the final conversation with the Regere and the tease that he knew where her father was. She was told not to let it be known her mother was a dragon, and saying her uncle used her as bait somehow seemed connected.

There was now the nagging worry in the back of her mind regarding the Regere’s interest in Penny, and assumedly in Ira too.

“Just how powerful is this Regere if he was unfazed by Arch’s magic,” Ava asked. “I thought my soul would leave my body the first time I saw one of his gollums.”

“Same,” Nellie said. She dug at a stubborn weed with her fingers to loose the roots. “The light cage was impressive, but Arch didn’t react to it like it was something super strong or difficult.” She rocked back as the weed gave. “Can you feel magic?”

“I don’t know…. What’s it feel like,” Ava asked.

“Like… static, I guess,” Nellie said. She rubbed her arm. “My godfather is a mage, and with him I could feel the hairs on my arm starting to stand. With Arch and Itzel, it’s just this little tingle on the back of my neck.”

“What about me,” Ava asked, excitedly. Her grin fell after an awkward pause. “Oh… you don’t feel anything, do you?”

“Your magic is different,” Nellie said quickly. “It’s better if you think about it. You can help with the jackalopes, and Hodge doesn’t mind you. I bet Ash would like you too. I can’t wait for you to meet him!”

Ava smiled weakly. She plucked white petals off of what Nellie recognized from boxed tea as chamomile.

“The problem with my magic is that it won't always be strong,” Ava murmured. “It’s inherited, not spontaneous. And like with other inherited traits, it can die out completely.” She took a breath and smiled. “Sorry. What about this Regere guy? What’s he feel like?”

“Like I stuck my finger in a socket and have a heavy, weighted blanket over my head,” Nellie said dully.

Ava mouthed ‘wow’ and her eyes sparkled behind her glasses at the idea of someone with that type of magic having been near. She snapped out of her awe and her eyes widened.

“And he’s your uncle,” Ava breathed.

Nellie shrugged it off as embarrassment crept over her. She had more or less told Ava about how the woman everyone called her mom was really her paternal aunt, and that she had only found out after starting school. She had no choice but to tell her about Morgan, and that led into being related to the leader of the Auctorita. She swore Ava to secrecy, making her promise not tell Olivia, Emma, and Sophia. It was too messy to start telling everyone else, and still made her head spin.

She was about to ask Ava if they did anything fun last night, but was distracted by Silas trudging over the slope towards them. He looked at ease with his thick arms swaying jauntily.

“Your uncle has decided to stay the night, and will make his decision afterwards,” Silas announced. He winked. “You’ll be staying the summer, Nellie. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure,” Nellie asked, feeling a fluttering of hope. “Uncle Winston can be quite stubborn.”

“I’m sure,” Silas said. “I believe a lot of his worries come from not understanding all this craziness with the Realm. He’ll feel better seeing you hanging out with other kids.”

It was hard to hope a night, essentially just a dinner, was all that stood in the way of her summer at the compound when dinners rarely went smoothly. Even on their best behavior, someone was bound to say something that would cause Uncle Winston to whisk her back to dull, dreary Shelbyville.

There was not much time before dinner, so Silas allowed Nellie and Ava to skip the evening chores. It was a kind gesture, but Nellie wished she could have hidden in the stables with Hodge until Mrs. Adams rung the bell. She found herself sitting cross-legged on her sleigh bed with Ava, both silent.

Nellie leapt up as the faint echo of the gong rang outside her door.

The dining room did not have the splendor it did when the Regere joined them. It was back to the usual plain plate and simple drinkware. There were two large platters piled with roasted chicken, and three bowls of seasoned root vegetables. A small green salad was set at every place.

“Miss Herle, I’m placing your uncle at the head,” Mrs. Adams said. “Why not sit next to him.”

“No need, Mrs. Adams,” Silas said, taking the seat at the right hand. “I’ll entertain Mr. Herle. Nellie can sit wherever she wants. They all can.”

Mrs. Adams narrowed her eyes at this. She gave a dismissive sniff and began her tour around the table to triple check everything was exact.

Silas motioned for Uncle Winston to sit next to him as the head of the table upon his entering the dining room. Lilac skipped off to take the seat across from Silas to Uncle Winston’s left.

Nellie found herself next to Silas with Ava to her other side. Fin and Arden took the seats across from them, both eager to be farther from Mrs. Adams’s grasp. Morgan frowned at Nellie, eyeing the full seats around her. He slunk to the end to sit at Mrs’s Adams’s right, sinking into a darker mood when Brody took the seat next to him and Calix and Arch filled the seats across, leaving Itzel to sit next to Fin.

“You have quite the array, Mr. Javernick,” Uncle Winston said, peering down the table.

“It happens,” Silas said. “The Auctorita is global now. The kids come from all over.” He nodded towards Itzel. “Brazil.” He gestured at Calix. “Greece. Of course, Nellie and Ava are just visiting. They’re not recruits.”

Uncle Winston’s blue eyes took each of the children in turn, lingering on Arden. His mouth tightened as he frowned into his salad.

“Recruitment starts quite young, does it? That boy can’t be any older than Nellie.”

“A year older, but, I agree, Arden is young,” Silas said. He dropped his voice and Nellie found herself leaning nearer. “His mother is an old friend. I offered to take him when he started acting out.” Silas cleared his throat, straightening. “I don’t exactly have a minimum age for residency. It’s whenever the kid needs to come.”

Nellie looked across at Arden but he was too busy sneakily tossing his cherry tomatoes into Fin’s half-eaten salad to have been eavesdropping. She never asked Arden why he was at Silas’s compound, assuming he was a recruit like the others. That sounded like the case, except it was more interesting that his parents just shipping him off.

She had not asked any of them why they were there, how they got there. She felt like she was playing catch up, and had not gotten very far in learning about her friends; if they could be called that.

Silas continued to politely answer whatever remarks Uncle Winston spoke, no matter if they were a proper question or an attempt at a jab. Her uncle was pausing between his comments to process the new information, and his hands relaxed a degree after each pause despite his mouth still twisted into a grimace.

Lilac interjected by asking Uncle Winston if he had a son, and then several follow-ups about Geoffrey. Uncle Winston slowly started to smile as the conversation went on, but kept his skeptical eye on them.

“Seems to be going good,” Ava whispered as Mrs. Adams circled the table with a cart, piling the salad bowls on it.

Fire erupted over Itzel’s plate in time with an aggravated shriek from her.

Uncle Winston fell over backwards in his hurry to stand and get away from the flames. Fin was yelling at Itzel in Spanish. Morgan was yelling at Fin that Itzel did not speak Spanish. Brody was helping Mrs. Adams up after knocking her and the cart over in his haste to the kitchen for water.

Arch grabbed Mrs. Adams’s cane and blew. The fire went out, and the plates, silverware, drinkware, and bits of food scattered down the table and around the room.

“Miss de la Torre! Mr. Cabrera!” Mrs. Adams shook lettuce off her arms. “My office, at once!”

“Come now, Mrs. Adams,” Silas said. “This was surely just a language–.”

“See to our guest,” Mrs. Adams said icily.

“No need,” Uncle Wiston said, dragging himself up.

Nellie cringed. The majority of dinner covered him leaving him to look like someone after a food fight scene from a movie. His light eyes blazed as hot as Itzel’s fire had.

“Perenelle, show me to a bathroom,” Uncle Winston demanded.

She felt everyone watching her as she slunk from the dining room. Her chest tightened as they moved further and further away from the dining room with no one coming after them to help argue her position. It was not fair she would have to leave because of something that happened between Itzel and Fin.

She sniffed heartily, stopping to wipe her eyes. She moved to hug Uncle Winston when he put his hand on her shoulder, recoiling as her hands found smashed carrots and dampness.

“Listen to me, sweetpea,” Uncle Winston said, stooping to her eyelevel. “I want you to think very hard before you answer me; why do you want to stay?”

“Because…,” she trailed off.

“Your friend goes to your school,” Uncle Winston said. “You’ll see her in a few weeks. These other kids… you only just met them. I can take you home. To Nathalie. To that dog of yours.”

“Would… I have to pretend none of this happened,” Nellie asked, her lip shaking.

Uncle Winston’s expression softened. He went to hug her, stopped himself, and scowled at his wet, gross appearance. He settled for patting her wavy, auburn hair.

“Nellie, lovey, you can stay,” he said quietly. He sighed. “This whole… strangeness is part of you. I won’t force you to ignore it.” He looked away. “Granddad and Nana always encouraged Rhys to ignore it…. It’d be great if he got over himself and paid a visit before they drop dead.”

Her mind jumped back to Maryland, to her conversation with the Regere. She grabbed Uncle Winston’s arm, shaking it as she rocked back and forth on her toes.

“Uncle Winston,” she said, “I might be able to find him!” She laughed at Uncle Winston's perturbed look. “I have a lead on Rhys.”

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

This has been sitting as a draft for a day, so everything I was going to put in the comment is gone, lol.

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P.Track.28

The sun was starting to set and Amias still had not turned up. Nellie sat out on the patio to enjoy the pink and gold sky while she waited, her feet propped up on a poofy ottoman. The lightning bugs were starting to twinkle on the woodline in the distance.

The sliding door opened some feet behind her.

“--be glad to get home,” Ava said. “It’s fun enough here, but I miss my friends.”

“What about that one girl,” her mom asked. “Isn’t she in your school?”

“Yeah… but it’s not the same,” Ava muttered. “I didn’t even bother inviting her to come with us tonight.”

Nellie slumped lower in her chair and slowly brought her legs to her chest, curling into a time ball to be as small as possible. It worked, and the Wagners passed without noticing her.

She sat with the sky darkening to red and the lightning bugs coming out in full force, her head full of a dull buzzing. It would make perfect sense for Ava to miss Emma, Olivia, and Sophia. They’d all known each other since elementary school. There was still something about what Ava said, about her tone, that was causing Nellie’s chest to tighten and the corners of her eyes to prickle.

“Good evening, my lamb. Were you waiting out for me?”

Amias still looked like a younger, tanner Victor Price. He held the handle of a sleek roller back in one hand, the other holding the strap of an overstuffed leather satchel across his body.

Nellie launched herself off the chair, and threw her arms around his middle, nearly knocking him back down the steps. She gave a sob as he patted her auburn waves.

“I wasn’t aware we crossed into this familiarity, my dear, but I’m glad of it,” Amias teased. He put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “There, there. Come, let’s go inside. The nastier nature wakes up when the sun goes down.”

They settled in the small den where the kids typically gathered to read their letters. It was dark and quiet, out of the way of the more common gathering areas like the large parlor, living room, and dining room.

Amias left briefly to make a cup of tea; Nellie declining his offer to make her a cup too with the summer heat seeping in through the slightly opened window. He propped his foot on his knee, gave his cup a smooth blow, and sipped.

“Ah, better,” he sighed. “Now then, my dear, you looked quite distressed. Anything your godfather can help with?”

“Not unless you speak teenaged girl better than I do,” Nellie muttered.

“Alas, not one of my many talents.” He smiled sympathetically. “Brue was a misfit magnet. I’m sure she went to her mother with such hardships as you have.”

“So… does that make you a misfit,” Nellie asked, a small smirk forming on her lips.

“Bite your tongue,” Amias said, hiding his own smirk behind his tea cup.

They spent the next fifteen minutes talking about little things. Amias and Nathalie apparently kept in touch with the occasion text or email, and she told him how she was unable to visit. He offered to substitute for her. He hadn’t seen much of the Regere since he returned from dropping off Morgan, typically accompanying Morgan’s mother Evora who was now very busy meeting various heads of state.

Nellie mentioned that Ira had come back to have similar meetings with chapters of the Order of Ferblanc and the Keepers. She did not mention the Piasa Bird, but she caught Amias eyeing the scar from her recently removed stitches once or twice.

“It sounds an awful lot like there really will be a new country,” Nellie said. “That’s so weird.”

“How so?”

“I guess I just think of the countries as set in stone,” she said. “But they aren’t. Even now, you get countries that fall and rise and everything in between. It’s just… weird.”

“It isn’t as common as it was, but, yes, they do change,” Amias said. He frowned into his empty cup and set it aside. “It’ll be good for the Auctorita to have true stability. We’ve had deals fail before because we were seen as illegitimate having no real boundaries. And, perhaps, I’ll have a title that means something instead of just ‘that dashing man following Evora at times’. My resume looks like it has a fifteen year gap in it.”

“Oi, Nellie, are you—Oh?” Arch appeared in the doorway. He straightened himself with a curious eye on Amias. “Sorry. Didn’t know Nellie had any visitors.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Mrs. Adams called us for supper five minutes ago. She’ll be cross if you’re any later.”

Nellie jumped to her feet. “Arch, this is my godfather Amias. Arch is a mage.”

“I recognized one of my own,” Aimas said with a nod.

“Amias…? Hang on, you aren’t Amias Baig, are you,” Arch asked. His mouth slowly dropped open on Amias’s–not at all bashful–nod. “You–you’re a founding member of the Auctorita!”

“You are?”

“I am,” Amias said smugly.

“Oh, sir, allow me to shake your hand,” Arch said, hurrying over and enthusiastically yanking Amias’s hand up and down. “As a mage, sir, it’s an honor. You’ve taught the Regere himself a thing or two!”

“You did?”

“I did, yes,” Amias said, enjoying the attention. He freed himself from Arch. “Care to show us to the dining room? I haven’t graced these halls in an age. I don’t remember where it is.”

Arch giddily led the way from the den. Nellie would not have been terribly shocked if he started skipping. She slowed her pace a bit to force Amias to do the same, putting a few extra feet between them and their escort.

“I thought the Regere was an all powerful mage,” Nellie asked in a low voice. “The magic I sense off him is…” She didn’t want to use ‘weird’ anymore, and crazy seemed just as bad.

“Quite, but he’s young,” Amias said. He gave a snort, shaking his head. “Probably stupid we appointed him the leader when the Auctorita formed, as young as he was, but it has all turned out for the best. Brue was a big part of that. She grounded him. Played the big sister role beautifully.” He pat her shoulder. “Now, my lamb, allow me to enjoy all this extra attention a moment.” He sped up to walk in step with Arch. “Have you heard about the disastrous time the Regere and I had outside Kabul?”

Amias was exuberantly greeted by Silas, and introduced to Brittney. The three of them seemed to grow louder and louder, and crowded the head of the table swapping stories. The kids were almost ignored; Mrs. Adams still kept a sharp eye on them from the end of the table to stop them from horsing around too much or using poor etiquette.

Morgan kicked her under the table. “You could have told me you were waiting for Amias,” he sulked. “We would’ve had a few moments together to speak of things.”

“Things urgent enough for you to assault me,” Nellie grumbled. She speared a roasted potato.

“He’s a link to my father, and do you remember what I was asking my father about on your behalf,” Morgan asked. His eyes darted to Fin, Itzel, Brody, and Arden, double checking that they were consumed with whatever it was they were talking about. “He’s supposed to tell us where your father is.”

“I don’t think that’s secret enough for you to be kicking me,” Nellie said.

Morgan huffed, and tore a large chuck of meat off his chicken thigh with his teeth.

“Master Morgan,” Mrs. Adams called down, “manners!”

Amias was having too much fun with Silas and Brittney, so Nellie, Morgan, and the other children were dismissed from the table by Mrs. Adams without much acknowledgement from the adults. Morgan huffed and fumed the entire way up to his room. Nellie was glad to be rid of him.

Nellie detangled her auburn waves in front of her vanity mirror, not really seeing herself. She hadn’t considered that Amias would be coming with news of Rhys. She hadn’t given her father much thought since Morgan said he’d ask for her, partly assuming–or hoping–he was ignored.

There was also the sick feeling she got when she remembered what she overheard Ava saying that evening. Her mind leapt back to when Ira picked her up so many months ago, asked her if the girls were friends, and Nellie’s instinct said they were not. It was possible that instinct was right all along.

Ira said people like them could make friends, but said he hadn’t. He tried to brush it off as the social differences between boys and girls–and it turned out he was a prince so that surely had some impact too–but Nellie couldn’t stop thinking he could’ve been lying to give her hope. False hope, like about finding Brue.

Penny still believed she would find Keena Fox despite having no memories of her.

Nellie scribbled on the notepad next to her bed: Text Penny. Ask if people like us make friends. Then, she crawled under the covers on her sleigh style bed, and passed out.

---

Amias was in the den the next morning wearing a velveteen dressing gown over his satin green pajama set. He had a newspaper resting against his knee and a small cup of coffee in his hand halfway to his lips.

“Ah, good morning,” he greeted. “Sleep all right? I was up half the night myself due to nature sounds.” He shuddered. “Crickets and coyotes and that blasted big foot.”

“Did you only come here because I had no visitors, or did the Regere send you with a message,” Nellie asked plainly.

He glanced into his cup, took a drink, and set it aside with his brows furrowed. He folded up his newspaper and set it across his lap like a paper blanket.

“Just jumping right into it with both feet this morning, are we? Two things can be true, Perenelle. Yes, I wanted to see you and Nathalie and I thought I should visit since she could not.” He heaved a breath. “And, yes, the Regere gave me a message to take along.”

“Which came first,” Nellie asked. “The message or you planning to visit?”

“Does that matter?” He groaned as she folded her arms. “Of course it does. You are so very like your father at times. It’s astounding. My visit came first, my lamb, since you insist on knowing. I was packing my socks, specifically, when Evora came to ask me to dinner. She asked why, I said I was going to visit you and Master Morgan, she said ‘oh perfect timing’ and had me go speak to the Regere to see if he even wanted me to pass on the message.”

“Which he did.”

“Yes; which he did,” Amias said. He smiled weakly. “Does that satisfy you?”

It made her feel a lot better knowing she had been Amias’s focus, not being ordered to visit to pass on some message. She gave a small nod and took the chair next to his.

“You’re allowed to come and go as you want then,” Nellie asked.

“I beg your pardon,” Amias said. “Were you under the assumption I needed permission from the Regere for every little thing in my life?” Nellie shrugged. “He’s the leader of the Auctorita, but he doesn’t control our lives. It is as if… What’s an analogy an American pre-teen would understand? I’m drawing a blank.”

“But he is your boss, isn’t he,” Nellie asked. Amias looked horrified at the notion but didn’t correct her. “Can’t he fire you if you don’t obey him? Or worse, with him being an all powerful mage?”

“All powerful is a stretch….”

“Not much of one.”

Nellie jumped at the sudden, cool voice and quickly found Morgan hovering in the doorway with a disgruntled expression on his face. His dark hair was still unkempt from sleep, and he still wore his pajamas and slippers. He held a napkin with both hands that was piled with buttered toast.

“I was waiting for you in the dining hall,” Morgan said. “Thought we’d eat and then go speak to Amias. Together.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” Nellie said, quickly adding, “then,” as her stomach gave a rumble.

Morgan’s scowl deepened.

“Now, now, Master Morgan, nothing has been said,” Amias said, a hint of pleading in his tone. “Come. Sit. You can have my seat if you wish. I plan on dropping off my cup once I’ve delivered the message anyhow.”

A rush of anger flared in Nellie’s chest as Morgan went and settled himself into Amias’s chair. He still looked disgruntled at the very idea that they would speak without him but there was now a smugness in his expression.

“What if I don’t want Morgan to hear the message,” Nellie asked, narrowing her eyes at her cousin.

Amias paled. His eyes darted from Nellie to Morgan–now glaring back at her–and back. He silently pleaded not to be put in that situation, but Nellie stubbornly folded her arms and crossed her legs.

“Master Morgan,” Amias said, his voice higher, “would you mind terribly to—?”

Morgan leapt up. He threw down the toast on the small table between the chair and stormed from the den.

Amias sank back into the empty chair while Nellie salvaged the toast. She was starting to get very hungry.

“Why must you antagonize him,” Amias muttered.

“Why must you cater to him,” Nellie asked. “He’s acting like a spoiled brat.”

“He is.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for it today,” Nellie said. She took a large bite of her toast, disappointed that it was now cold so more like wet, buttered cardboard. “I’ll tell him the message later. So… what is it?”

“China,” Amias said plainly. “The Regere last had eyes on the Commander in China.”

“China,” Nellie said slowly. “That’s… broad. He doesn’t have a city or something to go off?”

“If he did, he did not mention them,” Amias said. “All he said was to tell you that Rhys was in China. I must say, I was rather shocked by that. Brue wouldn’t have been caught dead in China as a human.” He shivered. “Dreadful place. I’ve seen what they do to street food there.”

She doubted Rhys would have been loitering around the city streets if he really was in China. The countryside, particularly the mountains, did look mystical in pictures she’d seen. She imagined it would be a good place for a dragon to live. 

How Rhys, a blond European, was supposed to get to those mountains was an entirely different question. From what little Nellie knew about the country, it did not exactly like outsiders wandering around without escort and she highly doubted he would have let a government official know why he was really there.

“Does the Auctorita work in China,” Nellie asked.

“My lamb, the Auctorita is truly global,” Amias said proudly. “We have footholds everywhere. Why, I believe we even send a researcher or two to Antarctica. For what end, I have no idea.”

“Does Rhys have any sway with members,” Nellie asked. “If he asked them to smuggle him into the country and out of the cities, would they?”

“Very likely, though I imagine that would put them at risk, and I’m unsure he would do that to lowly footsoldiers having once been one himself.”

She wondered if Amias meant they would be in trouble with the Regere or the Chinese government, but did not ask which. Hearing how far her uncle’s reach went was enough to cause the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. It was no wonder why Nathalie and Uncle Winston were so wary of him. That type of power and control was too much for anyone.

“Thanks, Amias,” Nellie said, rocking up to her feet. “I’m going to go tell Morgan.”

“Rather fast, isn’t it?”

She shrugged and left Amias to his newspaper. She didn’t have to go far to find Morgan. He was waiting around the next turn in the hall with his hazel eyes narrowed at her.

“You think I'm a spoilt brat,” he accused.

“You are, and you relish in it,” Nellie pressed. She crossed her arms. “Did you eavesdrop on the whole conversation?”

“Only long enough to hear you and that pompous fool laughing over what you really think of me.”

Nellie eyed him, frowning. There was an extra shine to his eyes. Morgan really did have hurt feelings over what he heard.

“We didn’t laugh a single time that conversation, for your information,” Nellie said. She sighed. “Rhys is supposedly in China. So, I guess cross-referencing anything with him is out of the question.” She smiled weakly. “End of the road, cous. Thanks for all the help. Let’s just enjoy the rest of summer break. Want to have a go at target practice? Callix said he’d teach—.”

“You quit too easy,” Morgan interrupted. He started to pace the hall. “China…. The Orient has a wealth of dragon lore, of course.”

“Are you… supposed to call it that?”

“I have a handful in my notes already,” Morgan went on, ignoring her. “We can narrow his location. Get a message to him.”

Her stomach lurched at the plausibility of Morgan’s plan. Amias already said the Auctorita had people all over the world. If Morgan asked his parents to pass a message to Rhys, there was no reason why they wouldn’t try.

Nellie stopped at her room first to grab the box of Rhys’s letters before joining Morgan in his room. They had correctly assumed that no one would go knocking on Morgan’s door, so now always looked over their dragon related items in his room rather than in Nellie’s or the library.

She scanned through the letters, reading only random phrases, while Morgan searched their file case and consulted the globe. She had thought about Rhys returning more often than naught since she was told about him. She was interested to meet–or get reacquainted–with the man that wrote so diligently to his big sister, but Morgan’s point about how much her life would change hung over her.

“These are the most prominent ones I have,” Morgan said, laying out the notes all with an artistic rendering. “Futs-long; says it dwells underground so an exact location is harder to find.” He slid the notes with a deep, orange dragon with a snake-like body to the side. “Shenlong; a sky dweller, so also not a clear location. But, my bet is the mountains where not many humans are.” He slid the notes with a deep, blue dragon also with a snake-like body to the side.

“These seem too specific,” Nellie said.

“Dragons are heavily featured in Chinese mythology,” Morgan said. “They have dragon gods for almost everything. Futs-long supposedly makes earthquakes. Shenlong makes rain.”

“Yeah… way too specific,” Nellie said. She scanned through the notes on Shenlong. “This sounds more like Zeus than a dragon story. …Zeus isn’t real, right?”

Morgan rolled his eyes and started flipping through his notes. “With migration, we should include the zmey gorynich out of Russia. Or the yamata no orochi of Japan. Ryujin seems more in the thought of these dragon gods.” He passed over the notes. “Kirin are generic. We can include them. Oh, and phaya naga. I’d say that’s an excellent candidate with the India connection and the,” he gestured to himself and Nellie, “the India connection.”

“Oh. Right.” Nellie looked at her tanned arm. “I keep forgetting that.”

“I don’t give it any thought either,” Morgan said, shrugging. “Our grandfather dislikes me and my father, and our white, American grandmother raised him as American as she could despite living in London.” He gave his pulled notes a satisfied nod. “This is a starting point.”

The flaming river dragon glared out from the top of the pile. Rhys had been looking for Brue for a decade. He must’ve thought of phaya nagas before now. Perhaps he looked in the Indian rivers, and could only now get into China. Or, Morgan’s theory that human genetics played a role was complete bunk.

“I still have no way of knowing Brue when we find her,” Nellie said, pushing the notes aside. She muttered, “If we find her.”

“You've been so negative lately,” Morgan said. “Summer camp not as rosy as you thought?”

She shot him a glower, but stayed quiet. Morgan did not need to know anything about her worries regarding Ava or making friends generally. He either wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t care, or encourage her to ignore everyone except him.

“What are we supposed to do now,” Nellie asked, steering the conversation back. “I don’t know if I want to send a message to Rhys. I don’t know what to say.”

“Ask him to come back,” Morgan said as if it was obvious.

“Ask him to stop looking?”

“No. Just to come back.”

She sighed and flopped back on Morgan’s bed. “He’s been looking for a decade. He’s not just going to drop everything and come running back because I ask.”

Morgan grabbed one of his pillows and curled around it. He stared but his eyes were distant as if looking at something far away and not at Nellie.

“I’ve been told, countless times now, that your father loved you and only left because searching for your mother was dangerous,” Morgan murmured, half into the pillow. His grip tightened. “You have nothing else to contradict that. You should hold onto it.”

“Nothing to… He did leave and never reach out,” Nellie said. “That’s a big contradiction.”

His eyes fixed on her. “My parents aren’t in love. I was born to fill a role, not because of love. Or to love.” He glared. “Hold onto these stories that your father loved you for as long as you can, Nellie, because the alternative does not feel good.” He flopped over and turned his back to her. “Think I’ll catch a nap before afternoon sparring.”

It was awkward sitting there while Morgan pretended to sleep. Nellie headed out with the box of her father’s letters in her hands. She stood with her back pressed on Morgan’s door, feeling the weight of Rhys’s words to Nathalie in her hand a moment before setting off to find her godfather.

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

This took so long to type that I forgot things like Arch being the escort into the dining room and what Amias was wearing in the morning. But, you get a bunch of dragins mentioned in this. Most are from my pretty dragon book, so I'll put up pictures in the chat. I wanted to describe them more since they're cool looking, but they are just looking at random internet drawings and not facing the real thing. Some dragons, like Futs-long, Shenlong, Jormungandr, Quetzelcoatl, ect. are very, very specific where it's a character and not just a dragon, so those would not be candidates (as Nellie rightly assumes). That does actually narrow out just about every Chinese dragon. They question of if those specific dragons are/were real or pure myth is a completely separate matter.

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March 15, 2026
Happy Birthday, Abilene!
Taken from an email from Abilene historian Jay Moore

Jay Moore is a well-known historian 'round these parts, and we even had him kick off the State of the City with a brief history lesson. He then sent this in an email to an undisclosed list of folks, and my coworker forwarded on to me. I love me some Abilene history, so I'll share it here if you are interested too :)

I actually always wondered why Abilene didn't have the traditional small-town-Texas "courthouse square" and now I know why!

----

Happy Birthday to The Future Great!

On Sunday, March 15, our ol’ prairie town will turn 145 years old. Many cities and towns slowly evolve into being, but we can claim an exact day, even an exact hour, to mark our beginning: the day we were auctioned into existence at 10 A.M. on a Tuesday. 

Despite the fact that several hundred people were already milling about in northern Taylor County in the weeks prior to March 15, 1881, we consider that day as our delivery date since it was on that chilly morning that the Texas & Pacific Railway staged an auction to sell lots in the new town they marketed as “The Future Great City of West Texas.” And when auctioneer J. A. Hossack hammered the first lots sold, Abilene was born. 

So that he could be seen and heard by a crowd estimated from one to two thousand, Mr. Hossack climbed up onto some stacked railroad ties set up at Chestnut and S. 1st, behind him was a plat of the new town. He opened the bidding and John Berry of Belle Plain snatched up the first lot. He actually bought two adjoining lots at the northwest corner of N. 2nd and Pine. Those two 25-foot-wide lots have remained linked ever since. Today, they are the setting for Grain Theory. 

Prior to the lot sale, folks were camped out in tents or sleeping under their wagons while they waited on the auction date. There was a tent hotel set up, and at least one pop-up saloon was in operation. Twelve days before the auction, a baby was born here to A.M. and Fanny Barnett; the proud parents named their infant daughter, Abilene. A church was even organized ahead of the auction when William Minter gathered together a passel of Presbyterians for a worship service on February 27 at N. 1st and Pine. We already had a graveyard too; necessary because a man named John Snoddy was killed here a month before the auction. (A jealous husband was a person of interest in the case.)

A Kentuckian named Josiah Stoddard Johnston was tasked with laying out the town and marketing the auction. He saw to it that surveyors measured lots and staked out the streets, and he decided there would not be a town square, rather two parallel streets fronting either side of the railroad tracks. He did plan for a courthouse square despite the fact that Buffalo Gap was the county seat. (Don’t bring that up while eating at Perini’s.)

Streets north or south of North and South 1st were numbered while the intersecting streets were given names of trees, with several being trees you won’t find in these parts, such as Cherry, Butternut, Beech and Hickory. (I’m perplexed as to why he left out Hackberry. We got plenty of those allergen producers.) A couple of the tree streets, namely Sassafras and Apple, never came to be and, in time, Magnolia was renamed N. Treadaway. Also, Orange is not the Florida variety, rather, the Osage Orange, which, I believe, is the same tree as a Bois D’Arc. (And, if you can’t place Bois D’Arc, it is two blocks east of N. Treadaway.)  Johnston also decided that he would offset the north and south tree streets by a half block, so they don’t line up, and each arboreal road stops at N. 1st or S. 1st.

Well before sunrise on March 15th, a T&P engine pulling five passenger cars arrived here from Fort Worth. They were filled with speculators who rode out for our birth and to possibly invest in some Abilene real estate. But many of the buyers present that day were the Buffalo Gap crowd who understood that the new town of Abilene was, in fact, destined to be The Future Great City of West Texas.

So, let your hair down and treat yourself to a birthday cupcake on Sunday. We’re only 145 once. 

- Jay

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March 10, 2026
The Next Step
A Westfall Short

Gemini rolled over in her bed with a long sigh, glaring into the dark room, dimly lit by what little moonlight could sift through the white cotton curtain of the window. She could just barely make out the shape of Kitty on the windowsill, but even with the feline’s presence, she still felt more alone than she had in a long time. She shut her eyes and tried to rest, but the hours continued to slip by.

She sat up with a frown, clutching the sheets in balled fists. She had slept, alone, in this very room for over three years now.

Why was it so unbearable tonight?

She and Hudson were never able to connect after they had parted that morning. Each had been pulled in a variety of directions, missing each other with every step. By the time she had returned from her hunt–and her chapel detour–the door to the shop was closed up, and she hated to disturb the Rowletts in their home just to tell Hudson goodnight.

But, ever since their “breakfast date” that morning, their relationship–and where it was headed–had moved to the forefront of her mind. Her prayer in the chapel had only solidified its position.

A wave of longing passed through her body. Its depth startled her.

She grabbed her glasses and kicked out of the sheets. She slipped her feet into her cowboy boots, and, with one leg of her pajama pants tucked into one boot, she rushed to the door and stepped out onto the landing.

She froze when she found Hudson on the shop’s roof across from her.

He seemed to be in a similar state of distress, and before he could get to his feet and move toward her, she scrambled over the ledge and ran to him. As he scooped her into his arms, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, hanging onto him as he folded his arms across her back.

“Gem–”

“Hudson–”

The two paused, having spoken their names in unison. They leaned back to be able to look at each other as Hudson repositioned his hold under her legs.

“Um, you first,” he nodded to her.

“Okay,” she took back one hand to smooth the hair behind her ear. “Well, I was laying there, and I couldn’t sleep... and it’s kind of ridiculous because I’m literally right over you, and I’m going to see you in the morning, but...” She bit her lip. “I just felt like I needed to see you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She huffed the weight from her chest. “Anyway, what were you going to say?”

His lips tugged to a half-smile. “The same thing.”

“Oh,” she blinked and found a smile. “Well, at least we’re on the same page. So... now what?”

Hudson’s lips skewed, and he shifted her in his arms to set her back down on the concrete roof. He poorly squashed a grin when he noticed her disheveled boots, glancing down at his own half-tucked shirt from his own haste. “Well, we were talking about what comes next earlier today,” he began, his face reddening.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Is it,” she paused, chewing her lip, “is it not too soon?”

He straightened up in apprehension. “Is it?”

“I–I don’t know,” she glanced aside nervously, “is there a set time you’re supposed to be dating–or courting–before you get married?”

He huffed a laugh. “I just asked Lil that same question earlier.”

“You did?” She grinned.

“Yeah–and, there isn’t.” He took a breath, “So, if we both feel like we’re ready to take that step…”

Gemini inched closer. “Are you?”

His thin lips were pressed tight as he met her eyes. “...Are you?”

“Yes,” she admitted softly, her eyes unmoving from his.

The admission instantly warmed his face, and he poorly hid a grin before blurting, “Me too.”

Just like the dream-like moment that followed their first kiss, the person standing before them at once seemed a little different. It was as if a new light had been shined upon them, revealing a deeper feeling than they had ever noticed before–in each other, and within themselves.

“Okay,” she fought through the awe-struck silence. “What do we need to do, then?”

“Well, generally, this is when I’d ask your parents if I could marry you.”

She shrugged and grinned at him. “I guess we don’t have to worry about that step,” she attempted to joke, but her smile faded when it had no effect on him.

“I dunno,” he tilted his head, taking her arms. “I feel like I need to ask somebody, or I’m not doin’ it right.”

She frowned lightly. “But, who could that even be? The only person I can think of would have been William.”

He sighed and looked at his boots.

“Besides, on Aravast, you wouldn’t have asked my parents anyway.”

“I would’ve asked your grandma,” he nodded.

“Wait.” She popped up with wide eyes. “What if I pretend I’m Mama Antonia and you can ask her?”

He seemed curious, yet doubtful. ”I dunno.”

“Come on,” she took him by the arms and led him across the roof. They scooted over the ledge and returned to the wooden landing outside her loft. Once there, she stood beside him and pointed to the door. “You are currently standing at my grandma’s house. What would you do?”

“Well, uh...” He gave a quick glance over his clothes and tucked in his shirt. He quickly brushed his hair from his forehead and straightened his posture, eying Gemini as she smirked. He then stretched out his hand and gave her door a few knocks.

She couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned across him to open the door. Once it was open, she stepped back beside him. “The door opens, and Antonia Inova now stands before us.” Gemini grinned as the darkness of the room beyond the door gave way to a memory of her grandmother. “She’s about Paw’s height–but admittedly a little more round–and she has short, curly, white hair; bright green eyes; and round glasses on her nose.”

Hudson inspected the imaginary form of Mama Antonia. “Good evening, Mrs. Inova,” he bowed slightly. “My name is Hudson Rowlett, and I have a real important question to ask you, if now is a good time.” He lingered on the word, as if it had been a question. He was surprised to find himself growing almost as nervous as if he had truly been asking Gemini’s grandmother.

“Of course, Mr. Rowlett!” The words came from her granddaughter. “I’ve heard so much about you! Go ahead.”

“Well, ma’am,” Hudson clutched his hands together, ”I wanna start by sayin’ your granddaughter is the kindest, smartest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She’s lovin’ and carin’, and a Godly woman who’s brought hope to so many–includin’ myself. She’s…” he gently laid one of his hands on her shoulder, as if to further prove his point. “She’s truly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Gemini found it difficult to stay in character, squashing her lips tight against Hudson’s heartfelt admission.

Hudson again straightened his posture and took in a deep breath. “So, if I may, I would like to ask for her hand in marriage.”

She was quiet for a moment; though it was long enough for Hudson to break the illusion by glancing at her. But, with a wide smile, she squinted her eyes shut and threw out her hands. “‘It’s about time someone tamed that flame!!’” 

He broke into a laugh. ”You’re makin’ that up!”

“I swear–that was exactly what Mama Antonia told me she’d say!!” Gemini giggled as she practically leapt into his arms. “She told me if I approved of someone, she would approve, too–and I know she would have loved you,” she added with a warm smile. 

Hudson stole a kiss from her cheek before leaning back to better look into her eyes. “Well, since I’ve got Mama Antonia’s blessing,” he shot a coy grin, “I just gotta let Paw know and get his; and that won’t be a problem.”

“And then?”

The smirk warmed as he set her down and dipped his head. “Then, I get to propose to you–to ask you officially–only I’ve gotta do it as a surprise.”

Her expression scrunched. “Wait, so after all this, I can still say no?”

He blinked. “Please, don’t.”

She puffed out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already said yes–and I will continue to say yes as many times as I’m asked.”

“I think it’s more about the surprise than the actual askin’.” His hands slipped down from her shoulders to hold her fingers, running over a familiar blue bracelet on her wrist in the process. “Some folks propose ‘round all their friends or family so they can celebrate together; some folks’ll propose in private and then go out and spread the news... I just have to make sure you don’t know when to expect it,” he ended slyly.

“Oh, yeah?” She drew closer to him.

“And, I gotta get a ring for you to wear,” his words turned soft as he looked at her hands, “so I can put it on your finger when–”

He wasn’t able to finish as her lips pressed against his. He hummed as his eyes closed and he folded his arms around her back. He felt her hands around his neck, reaching up into his hair.

He huffed breathily when they parted. “You’re not makin’ this any easier,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” she exhaled through a smile.

He smoothed out a strand of white hair on her forehead. “Maybe we should try to get some sleep,” he offered.

“Yeah,” she smiled at him. “I’m glad you were here. I feel a little better now.”

“Me too,” he smiled back. “I love you.”

She squinted her eyes and buried her face back into his chest. “I love you too,” she murmured into his shirt.

Hudson held on as long as she did. Despite sleep finally weighing on his eyelids, he rested his chin on the top of her head and gazed up at the stars overhead. 

He smiled. He’d hold on all night if he had to.

 

-----

The Rowlett's house is 2 stories, and since the shop is one big tall ceiling, its roof is maybe 4 feet taller than the landing of the upstairs loft. And since I like to mirror things a lot, there's a scene early on after Gemini moves into the loft where she can't sleep and goes out to find Hudson up on the shop roof across from her. They semi-awkwardly sit on opposites sides for a little bit, talking to each other before they part ways. So despite being similar circumstances, the feelings have greatly changed this time!

I had the idea for Gemini to be Mama Antonia pretty early in all my drafts - as perfect as it would have been for Hudson to ask William for her hand... 😞 In the "Last Night on Aravast" sketch, Antonia tells Gemini the "it's about time someone tamed this flame!" line and despite Gemini rolling it off, it still stuck with her.

These two are just ridicuously cute together and I will ship them forever 😁

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