Firebrand Risk
P.Track.24
February 01, 2026

It was a frog. It was a three and a half foot, standing on two long legs, frog.

Nellie realized her mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it. She cleared her throat and twisted around.

“Uh… Brody,” she called, unsure. She tensed, clutching her wooden sword up to her chest as more frogmen appeared from the weeds. “Brody!”

“Oh, good, you’ve found them,” Brody said, taking his hand off his steel sword. “Calix, get a vantage to get the numbers. Itzel…” He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. “Fayzer barry-cada de fogo… Sem ree-coo-are…?”

Itzel’s dark eyes looked worried. She twisted the hem of her shirt anxiously with one hand, clutching a long, beaten wooden stick with the other.

“Um… fire,” Brody said, pointing to a clump of dry, tall grass. He looked back at his paper. “Which was fire… Fogo?” He gestured to the grass. “Fogo.” He pointed at the frogmen. “No fogo.”

Itzel nodded slowly.

“Nellie, you’ll be with me ushering them into the trailer” Brody said. “Cal, how many?”

“I see twelve,” Calix called from somewhere about Nellie’s head.

“Itzel, fogo,” Brody said pointing to the grass. “Ready, Nellie?”

She nodded meekly despite not feeling at all ready. She was still grasping with being stared at by huge frogs. She cringed as one licked its orb-like eye.

The fire was lit, and the frogmen scattered. Calix yelled out positions and numbers from his perch. Brody must have been moving them into the waiting trailer successfully because the numbers were dwindling, and Nellie was confident she was doing nothing but run in circles.

“Two,” Calix called out. “Nellie, left shoulder! Brody, right knee! Ah, one! Nellie, behind!”

“Got it,” Brody said triumphantly. “Nellie, tell Itzel to stop the fire, and head for the truck.”

It was easier said than done to get Itzel to stop. The first hurdle was physically getting near enough to the young mage with her gleefully setting fire to whatever was dried near her. The next was the language barrier, which initially had Itzel set even more fires until the whole marsh was burning. She caught on once Calix and Brody were frantically kicking mucky water at the flames.

Nellie dragged herself back to the two trucks, one a muddy pickup hitched with a trailer and the other with a large cabin. Ira was speaking softly to the pickup’s driver–a middle-aged man in hunter fatigues. She was too singed, muddy, and damp to eavesdrop and headed for the larger truck.

“Are you the mage,” the man asked, breaking off his conversation with Ira.

“No,” Nellie said. “That’s Itzel.”

“This is Perenelle Herle,” Ira introduced. “Nellie, this is Keeper Orwell.”

“Herle,” Orwell mused, shaking Nellie’s hand as if she were an adult. “I briefly knew a Herle once. Englishman.”

“Her father,” Ira said.

“Really,” Orwell said in polite surprise. He bent to look her in the face. “Yes… I can see some resemblance.”

“Thanks,” Nellie said as she awkwardly leaned away.

Orwell straightened and turned his full attention back to Ira. “Herle was dreadfully serious from what I remember. Not at all like your father. When he turned out to be the Protector of the Realm… Well, I thought we were lost.”

Ira gave a tense smile. He gestured towards Calix and Brody. “Please, allow me to introduce you.”

Nellie slipped into the truck, startling when she found it wasn’t empty. Itzel waved meekly, curling against the door.

“Some night, huh,” Nellie said, slumping against the door. She watched Orwell shaking hands with Calix and Brody, their expressions flitting between pride and unease. “I think we did pretty well. Silas said frog-like water guardians, but I still wasn’t prepared for that.” She glanced at Itzel who was watching her in the dark cab with her large, dark eyes. Nellie had to remind herself that Itzel was two years older than her, and much more powerful in quiet moments like this.

She scooted into the middle as Brody climbed in. Calix took the front with Ira.

“We should arrive at our lodgings within fifteen,” Ira said, starting the truck. “We’ll stop at the Conservatory in Nahma tomorrow to check in on the frogmen before I drop you at the airport in Escanaba.”

There was a heavy silence in the truck. There was not a great amount of adrenaline to come down from, but they had run around a lot. They were starting to feel the hour time difference–for Nellie it was her timezone when she wasn’t at the compound–and it felt much later than shortly after sunset.

“Highness,” Brody squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Highness, I looked up frogmen to prepare for this mission… Aren’t we too far north?”

“Likely,” Ira said with a final sort of tone.

“Mr. Javernick says frogmen relocated often,” Calix said, twisting to address Brody better. “Too many developments in Ohio, so to Michigan. But, same situation.”

“And this group escaped en route to the Conservatory,” Nellie added. “Silas just asked if we could help for experience.” She leaned over into the front seat, looking at Ira. “Why you’re our chaperon is the bigger question.”

“The Order of Ferblanc and the Keepers both have presence here,” Ira said plainly. “I’m to speak with them.”

Brody was staring at his lap, frowning. “It… just seems too cold for amphibians….”

“The Keepers will monitor this population,” Ira said. “Their children will be better suited and able to be released.” He smiled into the rearview. “It’s admirable you show them concern.”

Calix turned towards them, flashing Brody a sturdy thumbs up.

They pulled into a parking lot for a large, yellow-bricked building. There was a small, rounded awning held by four white columns over the turquoise front door. Perched high above the door on the roofline was a cross made of the same yellow brick as the building.

Ira had his own room with a private bathroom. Calix and Brody shared a room with two full-sized beds while Nellie and Itzel were in a room with two single beds. The four of them didn’t have private bathrooms and had to take turns getting ready for bed in the communal one.

Nellie left the bathroom dressed in floral pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. She stopped short to avoid colliding with Ira.

“Where’re you going,” Nellie asked, taking in that he hadn’t changed yet.

“To visit Cecily,” Ira said. “She should be here by now.”

“Let me put my toothbrush away,” Nellie said excitedly.

They were crossing the dark, back lawn five minutes later. Nellie crossed her arms tightly against the night air. It was a warm enough night, but she had never been so far north.

Cecily was in a grove of trees. Her wings glowed in the moonlight as she rustled them, chirping a happy greeting to them. She nuzzled Ira and scratched the ground with her front talons as if dancing in place.

Nellie felt a pang in her chest as she watched Ira smile softly, murmuring into the gryphon’s black, feathered head. She hadn’t seen Ash in nearly five weeks. The Regere’s offer to bring him to Silas’s compound drifted through her mind.

“Are you meeting up with Penny after you’re done doing… whatever it is here?”

“It’s unclear,” Ira said, giving Cecily a hearty pat. “I’d like to, but, unfortunately, my primary function is political and things are becoming very political.”

“Because… we just had an election,” Nellie asked unsurely.

Ira smirked, shaking his head. “A change in a country’s leadership is, of course, something I need to know and keep in mind, but no.” He gave Cecily one more pat before backing away. “Morgan has said nothing to you?”

She felt a twinge of frustration at Ira’s skirting around information. He was unhelpful when shown the dragon research. He was evasive on what he was doing next.

“Morgan doesn’t know most of what his dad gets up to,” Nellie said coolly. “He can’t even tell me where the Auctorita headquarters are.”

“To offer a defense, when you’re a child being ushered back and forth it does get confusing on where things are located,” Ira said.

They broke from the trees, walking slowly back up towards the brick building. She waited for Ira to expand on his defense with either the location or what it was Morgan could potentially have told her that was related to what he was doing, but nothing came. She stopped abruptly to force him to do the same.

“What’s going on,” Nellie asked. “You’re meeting with the Order, and the Keepers, and this all has to do with something you thought Morgan would know. It’s something I should know then, right?”

Ira stared at her, weighing what to say. She could practically see the scales balancing over his head.

“The Regere has been working for the last decade to turn the Auctorita home base into a legal, sovereign, internationally recognized state.”

“Like… its own country?” She frowned at Ira’s nod. “But…? Wait, what’s that mean for you and your dad? Or for the Realm in general?”

“Those are the big questions that my father needs answers to,” Ira said. “As this is a most important matter, I’m his ambassador to ask these questions.” He sighed heavily, staring into the starry sky. “It’s taking away from my search for my mother.”

“I can help look for your mom,” Nellie offered.

“You already are,” Ira said, smiling. “You, Penny, and I are in this together whether we’re physically together or not.”

The bubbles of pride and affection burst as a roar ripped the air. Nellie shrunk next to Ira, scanning the sky for the source of the heavy wing beats. She stole a look at the backdoor they’d been aiming for, her stomach sinking as it seemed to stretch away.

“Down,” Ira ordered, throwing her into the ground.

She felt his arm leave her back, heard his footsteps thudding away. She peeked up while keeping as flat as she could; her heart dropping as she watched him throw himself aside to avoid the talons of a calf-sized creature with a large rack of antlers.

“Nellie,” Ira called. “Get inside!”

He scrambled up and bolted for the trees. The animal made a wide turn with its red, leathery wings and swooped down at Ira again.

Nellie ran for the door, throwing herself through. She gulped at the air, flinched at the roar outside, and raced upstairs. She pounded on Calix’s and Brody’s door.

“Cryptid!” She pounded on her own door. “Creature! Ira needs help!” She tried Ira’s door but found it locked. “No, no!”

“Nellie, what–?” Brody looked half asleep, trying with difficulty to slip his feet in his shoes.

“I need your sword,” Nellie said. “Quick!” She shoved Brody aside—Calix pulling his sheets up to his chin—and took the sword from beside the door. She heaved it up, staggered, and headed back downstairs.

Cecily had joined the battle. She was slamming the creature aside when it swooped at Ira, screech-roaring and snapping at it with her sharp, curved beak. Ira looked more distressed, more frantic as he waved his arms and shouted to get the creature’s attention to stop it from fighting Cecily fully.

“Ira!” Nellie waved at him, pointing to Brody’s sword. “Ira! I got you a sword!”

The creature snapped its head towards her, and her breath died in her throat.

It had a human face. Unmistakably human even in the dark and at the twenty or so yards of distance. Its green, scaly body glittered as it bounded towards her on its four, massive bird feet. Its long tail whipped around as it got closer and closer.

Nellie couldn’t move. She was still staring in horror at the bearded face. The yellow eyes were locked on her.

Flames erupted in front of her, causing her to fall backwards. Itzel–in a princess nightgown–stepped next to her with her staff in her hands.

The creature roared, rearing up to swipe the air above. Calix was leaning from a window, shooting.

“Did it get you,” Brody asked, pulling Nellie up. He took the sword, eyeing the cryptid. “Wu–what is that thing?”

“I don’t–.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brody interrupted. He tested the weight of his sword, sizing up the creature. He peered through Itzel’s flames at Cecily–now charging the creature again–and Ira. “His highness would fare better… I need to get this sword to him.”

“I’ll distract the… thing,” Nellie said, trying to sound resolute through the quiver in her voice. She looked at Itzel. “Come with me?”

“Calix,” Brody called, “cover the girls!”

Nellie ran out around the fire. She shouted, jumping and waving her arms. She could hear the wing beats, feel them. Her heart jumped as they grew loud enough to shake her body. She stumbled as a blast of fire warmed her back, landing hard on the ground and biting her lip. She spit out the blood as she clawed up to her feet, limping the first few steps until she was trotting again.

An earsplitting scream forced her to stop. She spun and felt her blood turn cold.

The creature had landed on Itzel. She was pressing her staff up against its neck to stop it from biting her with its needle-like teeth.

Nellie looked around for something to throw, finding nothing in the dark. She ran off, being sure to keep enough distance that it couldn’t claw her.

“Hey,” Nellie snapped, waving at it. “Hey, you! Come get me!” She shrunk as it stared at her, but she rooted her feet. “I see you, you creep! Come get–!”

She cried out, knocked over by the creature’s long, whipping tail. Her arm was gushing blood and she spotted a shining, hooked claw on the end of the tail as the cryptid snaked it through the air. Her blue eyes widened as the clawed tail swung towards her face.

Brody jumped in front of her, swinging a sword clean through the end of the creature’s tail. He stood ready to counterattack, dodging as the creature swiped, but getting caught and tossed by the spurs on the animal’s wing joints.

Fire sprung across the grounds. Itzel had rolled onto her stomach, half propped up by her staff, clutching it with both hands.

Ira ran up to them with Calix on his heels. Calix was holding his arm like his shoulder was injured, but Nellie didn’t see blood.

“Dimopoulos, cover them,” Ira ordered. “Jones, can you stand?”

“Yes, highness,” Brody said, hastily jumping up. “Just ripped my pajamas.” He held out the sword he held. “Your sword, highness.”

“Broke your door,” Calix explained, grimacing as he held his arm. “Sorry.”

“For later,” Ira said. “At the moment, just get the girls back indoors.” He switched swords with Brody. “Jones, keep to the building. It can’t swoop you there. Ready? Go!”

Nellie grabbed Itzel’s arm and pulled her up, half trying to explain and half trying to breathe as they sprinted for the door. Itzel being distracted caused her fires to wane into smoulders, giving the creature renewed vigor now that it could see and smell them clearer. Nellie could hear the wing beats getting closer, closer, until she could feel them in her chest.

Calix spun, hurled a grenade with a pained cry as his arm flopped about. It exploded in a puff of putrid smoke that sent them coughing and caused Nellie’s stomach to churn.

The smoke cut as soon as they shut the doors behind them.

“What’s going on out there,” an elderly man asked.

He was not alone. The hallway was packed with what looked like all the guests and staff. Some were muttering to go out the front to see what all the noise was, others to call the police.

“Nellie,” Calix murmured, crouching to her level, “keep them in.”

He darted back outside before she could ask him how.

“Arm,” Itzel said, twisting from Nellie’s grip. Nellie blushed at the fading mark of her hand.

“Where are your parents,” a short woman asked them, eyeing them suspiciously. 

Calix reappeared before Nellie had to lie. His disheveled hair, rotten smoke stink, and uncomfortably dangling arm spiked the tension building in the crowded hall.

“There is gas leak,” Calix announced to the hall. Cecily’s screeching roar sounded outside. “Very dangerous leak.”

“There are no gas lines out there,” a tall man dressed in slacks and a collared shirt said.

“There’s some boy with a sword at the front door,” a shrill voice said from the back of the mob. “He won’t let us leave!”

“Ira’s fighting that thing alone,” Nellie whispered to Calix.

“The gryphon is there,” Calix murmured back.

There had to be something she could do. Calix, Brody, and even Itzel had a better chance at assisting Ira in combat, but Calix couldn't hold a bow and Itzel’s nightgown was blossoming with blood. Calix and Brody were also now stuck trying to contain the increasingly agitated mob from going outside and getting ripped apart.

“My phone…,” Nellie muttered.

“Is that girl bleeding?”

“Yes,” Nellie piped up, taking Itzel’s arm again. “Let us through, please.” She looked back at Calix as a path cleared for them. “I have the Order on my phone. Hold out just a little longer.”

They hurried back to their room, Nellie being sure to release Itzel to not bruise her further along the way. Nellie grabbed her phone from the night table and went to a contact labeled: **EMERGENCY!!!!

‘Order of Ferblanc.’

“H-hi, this is Perenelle Herle,” Nellie said. “I’m with Ira York in Garden, Michigan. He’s being attacked by some… uh, thing? There’s a lot of normal people here, and we’re having a hard time keeping them inside.”

Itzel tapped her shoulder. She gestured to the blood on her nightgown with a scowl.

“Oh, and we have injuries,” Nellie added.

‘The Knights will be there in three, Miss Herle. Anything else, Miss Herle?’

“This cryptid has a human face,” Nellie said. “I-I don’t know if that’s relevant, but… it’s better they know before seeing it.”

‘Understood, Miss Herle; we thank you. They’ll be there now.’

“Thanks,” Nellie said, exhaling. She hung up and took a few deep breaths. She smiled weakly at Itzel. “I think we should stay up here and wait for medics. Or whatever.” She winced as she touched the tacky blood on her arm.

“It hurt,” Itzel asked quietly.

“A little,” Nellie said. “How about you?”

Itzel studied the blood on her nightgown. She sighed heavily. “Ruined.”

They met each other’s eyes, smirked, and started giggling madly.

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

The frogmen at the Loveland Frogman. There were several reports from cops and random people over the years, but the reports did start to die off. Either the frogmen died out or the population moved. I wanted the teased fieldtrip to be something reletively harmless since Silas doesn't want any of them to get hurt.

What Brody was saying to Itzel sounds nothing like that in Portugese. I forgot what it was I typed it, but then I just wrote out what the works looked like as an English speaker and then played the sound to see how different it was. Very different.

The upper pennicula area of Michigan looks wild and crazy, so I thought it'd be a good spot for a Conservatory and a with all the old religious stuff in the area, it was good for the Order of Ferblanc too. There's a small hamlet called Devils Corner that I wanted to take advantage of, but didn't fit it in. The whole thing with the creating a new state/country is more for Ira's eventual story. Nellie gets obsticals like being a noob and young.

With the fight, Brody first shows up with his sword and gives his sword to Ira. Things are still bad, so Calix, being inside still, breaks down Ira's door to retrieve Ira's sword. He crushes his shoulder in the process but gets Ira's sword to Brody. And since I didn't get to say what the cryptid is here (hopefully next chapter) it's called a Piasa Bird. It lives in cliffs in the Illinois area of the Mississipi River, but with development migration I put it up here. I have a picture from my dragon book that I'll put in the chat.

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Page 2


Song: "Pageant"

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Kallista: Lady Aria!

 

Page 3


Aria: Kallista, my dear! Where is Sapphyre?

Kallista: Oh, you know her; she's probably off by herself again.

Aria: I should have known. I hate for her to miss the celebration.

Kallista: I will find her.

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Shael: All right.

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Song: "Koudamare"

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Kalli: He's so quiet you forget he's there... not unlike you. Only if you're quiet, you're usually not even there.

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Shael: Kalli, be kind.

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Phyre: We're NOT the same.

Kalli: (also heatedly) All right–do you think you'd fit in better with the HUMANS??

Phyre: I doubt I'd fit in with ANYONE!


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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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10 hours ago
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.

“Mother Mary Clare, you’re from California, right,” Penny asked. She held up the book. “Did you ever see these?”

“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.

“We should do our lesson in my room,” Mother Mary Clare suggested. “I have some stitching to do, and could use the extra help.”

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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