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The Multiverse May Burn

“That’s enough.” The judge, in her stylised white wig and long navy robes, didn’t shout, but she didn’t need to. Her gaze—not baby, not cornflower, not sky, but rather poison-dart frog, or cavernous ice, or man ’o war—over the top of her black-rimmed glasses was severe, the gaze of a woman who’d seen far too many trouble-makers in her life for even a molecule of sympathy to remain in her blood.

Alissa shivered. Before, she’d thought that maybe, if she’d come in with a good enough story and a water-tight argument, she might have had a chance. But that look from the judge brokered no compromise, and Alissa looked quickly away, studying the flecks of black in the white-marble floor tiles.

Tiny specks of silver shone, and for a moment Alissa thought that maybe they represented hope amid the black-and-white of the justice system. But that, surely, was too much to assume; the room stank of bleach so strongly they might as well have advertised, ‘One courtroom, clean of germs and mercy both.’

Stomach twisting, Alissa raised her gaze to stare at the walls instead, more uncompromising white, except where the recording screens—panels as tall as she was, as wide as her arm-span—interrupted them.

Three of the viewing screens were currently in use. From one, a severe-face man with salt-and-pepper hair and deep, deep lines in his dark skin frowned down at her. In another, the cyborg Natia Alchamp narrowed their hazel eyes, lightly-tanned fist clenching in front of them on the dark-wood desk they sat behind, occasional flares of colour coalescent around their head as they used their implant to access the multiverse.

And in the third…

Alissa swallowed heavily.

In the third, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen sat scowling at her, dark eyes full of something she could only assume was hatred. Two long, red scratches puckered his brown cheek and at the sight of them again, Alissa’s stomach clenched, adrenalin punching through her system.

She could taste that blood in her mouth, metallic, sweet, and if anyone here thought she would ever be sorry for what she’d done, they had another thing coming.

She’d die first.

Literally, and they would be the ones to kill her.

Which, damn it all, it wasn’t her fault. They were the ones who’d fed her mother Rapunzel in the first place, hoping for yet another super-powered child to join their ranks.

So how was it Alissa’s fault if things had gone slightly wrong—assuming a spontaneous genetic mutation could be considered ‘wrong’?

“It is obvious that you are as stubborn as you are articulate,” the judge continued, as a school teacher disciplining an unruly child might. “But your arguments are irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that you not only possess the forbidden blood magic, you actively chose to use it on this man.”

Alissa’s nostrils flared. Curse Hannah. Curse the witches. Curse everyone involved with her birth—and most of all, herself. Alissa drew in a steely breath, the unforgiving bleach filling her awareness.

Well, so would she be. Unforgiving, resolved, and devoid of mercy. If they were going to sentence her to death for possessing a talent she hadn’t asked for, didn’t want, then by the Clans she’d go down swinging and take them all with her.  

She snorted. Folded her arms. Raised her chin and stared back at the fair-skinned woman who thought herself worthy to lay judgement on this matter.

The judge narrowed her own eyes in return. “Well then, Alissa Fortuna McAlister. You have brought this fate upon yourself. You have admitted to wielding blood magic in an act of aggression against another human being, as if possessing the red magic wasn’t bad enough, and we have seen recorded evidence that your magic glows red instead of blue, as it ought. You know the penalty for this is death.”

Adrenalin pulsed again, this time with a sour squirt of acid in the back of her throat. Alissa coughed, trying to swallow away the burn.

This was it, then. This was the end, and she’d take them all with her—

She felt both magics, the sanctioned blue and the unsanctioned red, rising in her body, one cold and sharp like a migraine, one hot and tingling like pins and needles, a metallic taste rising in the back of her throat like blood, if blood were copper-blue instead of iron-red.

She couldn’t do anything about Raiden, who’d dobbed her in and thus effectively signed her death warrant himself, and that… well, that pissed her off, to be honest.

But the judge was going to be sorry.

“Unless.” The judge pursed her blue-painted lips, so bright they made her skin seem pale as death, so bright they outshone her gleaming eyes. “Someone will speak for you, and agree to complete a Multiverse Trial.”

Table Of Contents

• The Multiverse May Burn (Witch Blue)
• For The Last Time
• The Fire Pony
• Only A Single Rivet (Weapons Never Weep)
• Failsafe
• Under Forty-Eight Hours
• The Reality Of A Tea-Green Kettle
• Dragon Theft (The Fey Wars)
• Hope In The Shape Of A Feather (The Black Gates)
• Finally, A Cryptid
• Blood Dragon (The Fey Wars)
• The Fey Gain Entrance (The Fey Wars)
• Some Impropriety Expected (Weapons Never Weep)
• Elsewhere
• One Fey, One Thief, One Dragon (The Fey Wars)
• Cerulean Blue (Witch Blue)