Fissures on the glass

When she was little, Opal had a recurring nightmare about falling. She dreamt of walking up a spiral staircase, and walking, and walking, but every single time she nearly reached the top, that warm and inviting light of the exit, the entire staircase disappeared from under her feet and she fell into nothingness, waking up in her bed panting and in a cold sweat.

When she was little, she knew that even if from time to time the nightmare felt scarier she could always go to her parents for comfort, but she couldn’t do that now.

Now, it seemed to her that the ground had suddenly started disappearing from under her feet, something that she would’ve never wanted to experience in real life, and she couldn't even wake up.

“Hey!” Celsian jumping to her feet and pointing at Rutile, indignant on Opal’s behalf, brought her away from her spiralling thoughts. “What are you implying by that?”

The civil servant raised up his palms in the universal sign of innocence, taking a small step back. “I’m not implying anything! I’m just-” He sighed, passing his fingers through his hair. “Listen, you wanted my opinion and you got it, okay? Nothing more, nothing less.”

“… he’s right” Opal commented, even though she still felt like someone had thrown a bucket of freezing water at her. Celsian turned to her with the most apologetic look Opal had ever seen her wear, as if anything in that situation was her fault. “I was the one who asked him.”

Rutile’s lips thinned.

“However, does this mean…” Opal hugged her legs even tighter, not actually looking at any of her companions anymore, her gaze lost in increasingly upsetting thoughts, because- She was but a simple girl, just a high school student with a peacefully normal life, a peacefully normal life she liked, of which she wouldn't have changed nearly anything. She wasn’t a Saviour nor a Saintess either, as she’d been saying since the very first moment after she’d arrived in that world, even though practically everyone there seemed convinced of the contrary, and, well, maybe she had gained magical stone powers, but nothing had intrinsically changed about her, right? It was just some consequence of the world-hopping. It must’ve been, like in the series she watched. Right? She couldn't become something else, she was pretty sure of that, but still, she couldn't help thinking that she was… that she was… “… does this mean that I’m a mon-”

“Absolutely not!”

Opal startled, wincing from the volume of the tone of voice, but was successfully brought back to the here and now. In the corners of her vision, she could see Ametrine and Rutile metaphorically jump too, the second more than the first, but Opal could only focus on the thief.

Celsian had reacted instantly, making a wide gesture with her hand, as if she could physically push away the mere notion that Opal had brought up. “Don’t you ever say that again! Don’t even think about it!” Her eyes were ablaze with an anger that Opal had never seen directed at her, but, instead of burning her, it warmed her up.

She felt tears gathering and blurring her vision, but that time they weren’t of pain. “Celsian, I…”

“She is right.” Ametrine spoke up, not a hint of doubt in her steady gaze or in her posture. “It is true that the power of metamorphosis is traditionally attributed to the Golem and its creatures, that in the stories can change the internal structure and external appearance of either parts or the entirety of their bodies, but the fight between the Saintess and the Golem happened hundreds of years ago, so we cannot actually be sure which powers were of whom” she explained plainly, as if she was simply stating facts known by everyone.

Celsian nodded enthusiastically, her outburst from before apparently forgotten, for the whole duration of the knight’s short speech. “Exactly, everything she just said.”

“… also, I guess that we can’t be certain that all the Saviours have the same powers” Rutile added, adjusting his glasses. “We’ve not had other examples, after all, so who knows, maybe they all have different variations of the Untethered Magic.”

Opal couldn't be sure that it was what he sincerely thought, but she understood it as an olive branch of sorts, even though nothing pertaining to that situation had actually been his fault, so she smiled at him and he awkwardly smiled back. “Thank you” she then said to everyone, looking gratefully at each of them.

Celsian gave her a thumbs up, satisfied, and got back to her position next to Opal on the patch of grass.

Ametrine, though, glanced away, seemingly troubled for some reason. “However…” she spoke up, crossing her arms over her chest. “We cannot let others know of this. You understand that, do you not?” She looked at Opal again, so serious that she bordered on harsh. “Everyone else would probably jump at conclusions first and ask questions never.”

The “they would think you are a monster” part wasn’t said out loud, but Opal heard it with perfect clarity anyway. Being coveted like a golden goose for her powers wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t even want to start imagining what they would’ve done if they thought she was in cahoots with the being they detested more in that whole world. She sobered up in the worst way possible, nodding gravelly. “… I understand.”

“Good.” Ametrine didn’t seem happy or comfortable either, but she was the type to do what had to be done no matter what.

“Oh but hey!” Celsian piped up suddenly, dispersing the grim atmosphere that had descended on them by popping it as if it was but a soap bubble. “There are also positive sides!”

The knight arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Celsian leant in Opal’s direction, all childlike excitement. “Like the fact that Opal can show us her cool new powers, and that between the three of us we can try and understand more about them-”

“We do not have time for that-”

The thief ignored Ametrine, as if by that point it was but a mere reflex. It probably was, to be honest. “That is, of course, if you’re up to it” she finished, looking directly at Opal with an expression that was both intent and soft: she very obviously wanted an answer, but Opal knew, with exhilarating certainty, that she would’ve respected any of her decisions.

“Not now.” That was for sure; she was still way too shaken by that whole ordeal. However, she managed a small smile. “But another time, maybe.”

“Great!”

“Yeah, yeah” Rutile drawled, speaking up after a moment he had spent just staring, vaguely confused, at their antics. “That’s all wonderful and everything, I’m glad we have a team bonding activity already planned, but did you forget that you literally kidnapped me because you needed to get some kind of information?” He put his hands on his hips, his perfectly maintained eyebrow elegantly raised in a disapproving manner behind the frame of his glasses.

“Oh.” Celsian slapped a palm on her forehead. “Right!”

“I can’t believe it, you actually forgot about it!” Rutile exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at her old course mate as though she’d betrayed him.

The latter rapidly waved her hands in front of her. “Ah, I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention, but you know how it is, it became less urgent once that you stopped being at risk of weaselling out of our reach at any given time, and then I got distracted-”

“Because of course you did” he sighed, with the tired tone of someone who was re-evaluating their situation and asking themselves how exactly they had found themselves there. “Also, don’t think I forgot about you.” He turned to Ametrine, radiating disapproval. “The same thing goes for you too.” He probably didn’t understand just how courageous he was being by putting the knight in the same boat as the thief. Opal thought it was a real shame he couldn't fully appreciate that moment, but she would’ve done it in his place.

Ametrine’s gaze, as one could imagine, snapped to him. “Do not insinuate I am even a bit similar to that airhead; she was the one who pushed to put the kidnapping as our second backup plan, so she had to take care of it.”

“Hey, we’re in this together!” Celsian exclaimed.

The civil servant sighed heavily, shaking his head, and Opal wondered if he was missing his steady job at the Guildhall. “Whatever, it doesn’t actually matter.” He adjusted his glasses. “What was it that you wanted to ask me so much?”

“Right.” As if a switch had been flipped, Celsian got serious again, forgetting her quarrel with the knight. “I imagine you’ve heard about Opal appearing in Kruos as the new Saviour, right?”

Rutile nodded, gesturing with his hand. “Yes, the news has travelled the whole kingdom.”

The thief crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, well, what the news probably didn’t say is that she fell from the stained glass in the Cathedral of the Saintess. I wanted to do research on the phenomenon, and I’ve tried to study it by making Opal get closer and interact with the stained glass, but…” She glanced away, but then her gaze ended up on Opal.

Opal grimaced, remembering that night and those uncomfortable sensations. “I felt pain as soon as I tried to touch it.”

Rutile frowned, getting pensive.

“So, do you have more insight about this?” Celsian asked him.

“I’m… not sure. I know that the Cathedral of the Saintess was built after her victory against the Golem, three hundred years ago, under orders of the king of that time, Chrysoprase the First. The stained glass was obviously created soon after, but all these seem things that you already know.”

The thief sighed, dejected, her shoulders slumping. “They are.”

“I’m sorry, Celsian, Opal.” He seemed sincerely apologetic, not only for not being able to give more answers but also for the situation in general. “The information about that subject has always been limited.”

“… I knew. Even by searching through classified archives, I’ve never found a whole lot of things. Not the amount I expected, anyway” she admitted. “I guess I was just hoping, for once, that there was something I neglected.”

“… There probably was not.”

In that moment, everyone turned to Ametrine, who had stayed strangely silent during their exchange.

“What do you mean?”

The knight glanced away. “The stained glass in the cathedral… was created by renowned stone craftsmen: they infused their magic in each and every glass tile, ensuring that the next Saviour would inevitably be attracted there, sooner or later, but they were sworn to secrecy by the king himself. No official written trace exists of that, because it was never produced.”

Celsian was staring at her intently. “How about officious traces, then?”

Ametrine nodded. “They have been passed down orally in certain families.”

“And you know about this… how?” inquired Rutile, raising an eyebrow.

The knight looked at each of them, taking a heavy breath. Opal could feel the electricity in the air, created in equal parts by the tension and the anticipation. And then, Ametrine spoke. “The Saintess was present, when her stained glass was created. And, well. During the centuries she has become a figure of legend, the unbeaten protagonist of countless stories, but she had a name, and a family she kept in contact with.” Her voice held steady, but her eyes hid sadness. It was a quiet sort of sorrow, a silent melancholy that Opal had never seen on her face before. “The Saintess’ full name was Agata Calchedonius. She is my ancestress.”

There were a few seconds of stunned silence during which the revelation settled, but then everyone started talking at the same time.

“Incredible…” commented Rutile. “What were the odds?”

“You are… the Saintess’ descendant?” asked Opal, feeling vaguely betrayed: they had more of a connection than she thought possible, she could’ve asked her some questions at the very least, and still Ametrine hid that from them?

Celsian, however, was the one with the strongest reaction. “You… you knew all this…” she said, shocked. “… and you didn’t think to say something earlier?” She got on her feet, her stupor transforming into anger. “You may as well hate me forever for all I care, but this was important, Ametrine!”

The knight, in her defence, seemed actually apologetic, even though her stoic demeanour wasn’t budging. “In the beginning, it just did not seem so. Later, however, I simply did not want to risk you going away, since you are our only chance of victory against the Golem” she admitted, looking at Opal with an expression approaching grief.

“Ametrine…” Opal was disappointed, to say the least, but tried to prioritise topics. “What changed?” she asked at last.

“Your powers did.”

Opal’s eyes widened.

“And if I have to choose between losing you in a fight against people who fear them or sending you home, well…” The knight shrugged minutely. “… you know what I will do.”

Opal nodded. Even if her trust in Ametrine had taken a hard blow, she knew that the knight would’ve put Opal's safety above literally anything else: it was the only reason she was there with them, after all.

“So now you will finally tell us about the stained glass?” Rutile asked.

“I can do better. I will bring you directly to my ancestress' home.”