“This is your last chance,” Ketty said. “I’ll let you walk back through the mirror. You never know, the spell might not kill you. But if you attack me again, I’ll throw you over. I swear, by the Authors old and the Authors new. I mean to spend the rest of my life in a story that’s written just for me, and you won’t keep me from my happy ending. You or anyone else.”
Every cage has a key. Muscles tired and ideas used up, Indira heard the Words echo in her head. So this was how it was going to end? She’d begun life in Fable hearing those words, but now she was trapped in a cage without a key. Facing a problem without a solution. Ketty was too powerful to beat. No amount of hammering could stop her magic. Already Indira was too exhausted to launch a proper attack. Ketty could push her over the ledge easily.
Looking down at the jagged cliffs below, Indira shivered. She knew she wasn’t in Fable anymore. Would death here be permanent? She didn’t think the Real World had a Ninth Hearth to restore its dead.
But I’m not in the Real World. This is somewhere in between.
She didn’t have a key, but she had an idea. If she couldn’t unlock the cage, she could push it over the ledge. Cages could break as easily as they could be unlocked. Indira tightened her grip on her hammer and straightened her shoulders.
“Every character has a story,” Indira said quietly. “Mrs. Pennington and Patch deserve one. Phoenix and Margaret. They should get a chance to meet their Authors. To be loved by readers. I can’t let you take that away from them because you’re forcing your own way into a story that you don’t even belong in.”
Ketty smiled grimly. “Spoken like a true hero.”
Indira remembered the words of Mr. Threepwood. “Loyalty leads to bravery. Bravery plants the seed of self-sacrifice. And self-sacrifice is the highest call of every character in every story. You might be a powerful character, but you could never be a hero.”
“Words,” Ketty spat. “Words won’t save you now.”
Before Ketty could make her first move, Indira started forward. She knew what would happen next. The brainstorm had been using her wounded right hand to maintain the magic. She’d been fighting—and clearly favoring—her left in combat. Different from and more difficult than most fighters. But it meant that she would lead with it. She would try to finish things, and that would give Indira a single moment to do what needed to be done. She moved close enough to bait Ketty. The brainstorm’s smile faded. The dragon scales shimmered.
She swung.
Indira ducked, stepped in, and took a huge, two-handed swing.
The hammer hit Ketty square in the stomach. The armor was too strong to break or allow any real damage, but the blow was still powerful enough to pull air from the brainstorm’s lungs. Ketty bent forward slightly, and Indira used that moment to leap. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck and sealed her hold with a solid grip on her hammer. Ketty stumbled forward, trying to shake herself free, but Indira held tight and kicked her legs out to one side. Closing her eyes, Indira pushed off the wall with all her strength.
Even if her story ended here, the stories of her friends would go on.
The pair went stumbling toward the edge. Brainstorm Ketty screamed as her knees collided with the stone railing. Time slowed, and Indira pulled closer and tighter as Ketty’s hands flung out in a fruitless search for balance. She found no purchase on the stones.
Momentum took them both over the railing.
Indira did not scream. Her heart beat a furious dance, but her face was utterly calm. She had figured it out. The key to this cage was her death. As the two of them spiraled to the ground in a chaos of limbs, Indira felt it had already been a very grand adventure. When they hit, she knew that Brainstorm Ketty’s magic would die and the spell would end.
No one could ever take away that moment. No audition could ever call her anything less than a hero, a friend, and a sacrifice. The wind rushed all around them. Indira thought about Phoenix and Maxi and the Penningtons. She loved them all so very much.
And then the ground caught her.
A strange thing happened.
The characters who were gathered by the windows of Protagonist Preparatory reported that the storms outside suddenly died away. The sun plunged through the gloom. Fable’s buildings looked majestic and full of wonder once again. The population of Marks balanced out. No one reported strange visions of the Real World. Strangest of all, though, was the sight that greeted the characters waiting in Hearth Hall.
Every hearth blinked out at once.
Except for one.
The dark room and that looming fire drew the eyes of every waiting character. Hundreds of students looked up to find two ghostly outlines by that Ninth Hearth. The students crept forward as one, afraid of what they might find, of whose outlines would appear there.
Everyone recognized the first ghost. Brainstorm Ketty’s scaled armor had transformed back into the more familiar jacket. She wore a black dress that might have been lovely if she hadn’t been currently drawing glares from every single person in the crowd.
Maxi Maydragon’s rumors had spread to the entire school. Every character and professor knew what the brainstorm had been plotting. Maxi had returned shortly after finding the Sepulcher empty. She’d rallied a team of heroes to the Talespin but found only the waking sleepers that Indira had saved. The rest of the school had been waiting inside the safety of Hearth Hall, hoping for news of their missing friends.
One can imagine the dark thoughts. Would their friends survive? Would Brainstorm Ketty succeed? If she did succeed, what would it mean for them? Would Protagonist Preparatory close its doors for good?
At first, most students didn’t recognize the other person. She had dark, unruly hair that fell above narrowed eyes. A hammer sat along her hip, and she wore a handmade pink tunic beneath a navy-blue jacket. As a ghost, she looked even more quiet and reserved than she did normally. Both ghosts stared at the flames that even now were bringing them back to life.
Gavin Grant recognized her, though. He ran forward, did his best to wrap both arms around her ghostly form, and whispered something the other students couldn’t hear. He eventually convinced her to turn toward the crowd.
“Everyone!” he shouted. “This is Indira Story, the girl who saved Protagonist Prep!”
The chorus of praise and applause echoed into the very stones of the school.
Less than an hour after Indira had rescued the school—and all of Imagination, for that matter—men and women with dark glasses and pristine suits began appearing around the building. Some wondered what had taken them so long. The Editors normally had tabs on everything and everyone. When necessary, they came in and did the dirty, behind-the-scenes work. They removed threats to the world of Imagination with crisp efficiency.
So it was no surprise that Maxi’s future bosses stood vigil by the Ninth Hearth, waiting for Brainstorm Ketty to fully revive. Indira’s discoveries had been brought to light. Ketty had broken enough laws that the Editors could put her away for good.
Members of the Wizard Union did eventually find the proper counterspell to release Brainstorm Underglass and Brainstorm Vesulias from their bizarre enchantment. The two suffered from mild coughs for a few days, and a fine chalky powder puffed into the air everywhere they walked. It was agreed that, when she was fully revived, Indira Story should be immediately promoted to the status of protagonist.
As for Indira, her days spent recovering from death were never spent alone. As Mr. Threepwood had taught her, loyalty and devotion lead to bravery. Bravery sets a course for self-sacrifice. And self-sacrifice is the highest honor for every character. It also creates unbreakable bonds between us and the ones we love.
Mrs. Pennington and Patch visited in the evenings. Patch had given up piracy for paleontology. Even as a ghost, Indira couldn’t help but smile every time he said the word stegosaurus. Gavin Gra
nt loyally repaid Indira’s own devotion by visiting between classes. When Margaret had recovered, she spent many an hour sitting quietly next to Indira. These visits were especially needed after long hours of Maxi sitting rather loudly in the same seat.
Brainstorms and professors visited, offering congratulations or apologies as was appropriate. Alice never arrived by the same route. Indira saw her lowered from the roof by some kind of harness system one day. The next she snuck out from behind a painting. Indira’s favorite teacher sat cross-legged by the fire and told her stories about shrinking down to the size of a thimble and facing absurdly dressed queens. Indira could never remember the stories after she’d gone, but something about listening to them brought her back to life just a little more quickly.
In the early days of her recovery, Indira struggled to keep track of who came and went. It was nearly impossible. Her mind struggled to hold on to short-term memories. Always her attention drifted back to the flames. There was one person she knew hadn’t visited. She had last seen Phoenix crumpled on the floor of the Talespin. His red hair—his fire—had been taken from him. Even in her ghostly state, Indira desperately wanted to check on him.
There was also one visitor she’d never forget.
She felt the slightest tickle down her arms and neck, as though a faint breeze had just blown through the hall. She dragged her eyes away from the fire long enough to see a man with a rather average, unrecognizable face.
“Who would have ever imagined such a wild ending?” Deus mused.
Indira’s voice was still weak. “I think you did.”
Her mentor came forward and snapped his fingers once. A wooden chair blinked into existence. He positioned it beside her and sat. It was the first time she’d ever seen him sit down.
“Oh, little old me?” Deus asked. “I’m just the grease that keeps the engine moving.”
Indira held up one insubstantial finger. “You had me jump off the cliff that first day.”
“Certainly a valuable experience in the end.”
She lifted a second finger. “You taught me about my hammer’s special powers.”
“Well, it’s hard to face the antagonist without those.”
“And you let me fail my auditions.”
He winced at that one. “A dark hour that led to a far brighter one.”
Indira nodded. There had been so much time to sit and think about all the little details of what had happened. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Deus had likely given her a few nudges in the right direction, even though it certainly hadn’t felt that way at the time.
Her mentor sat in silence at her side for a full minute. She realized that his stillness was a sign of respect. Deus never stood still for anyone. The moment ended, and he stood, his fingers once again dancing unpredictably. He paused long enough to wink down at her.
“I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”
Indira smiled as her mentor snapped his fingers and vanished.
The recovery of the city’s newest hero and the city’s greatest threat took quite a while. The two of them had perished outside Fable’s normal limits. Some local experts were unsure how they’d revived at all. After nearly a full month, the fire restored both of them. The only difference was in how they walked away. Brainstorm Ketty was immediately placed in handcuffs by the Editors. She was led off quietly, the recipient of sideways stares and barely heard whispers. Indira, on the other hand, walked through Hearth Hall arm in arm with friends. She couldn’t make it more than a few steps without someone cheering her name.
Each little celebration was a good reminder.
Even without a gold jacket, she was every bit a hero.
The first thing Indira did was visit Phoenix.
She found out from Brainstorm Underglass that her friend was still living in the medical ward. Some of the wizarding doctors had been working hard to develop counterspells, but no one had ever encountered an essential element being stolen like this. There were historical examples of silenced wizards and wizards turned into sheep and all manner of strange happenings, but none in which someone’s identity had been so thoroughly taken.
Indira found her friend sitting by a window. His hair was a faded brown color and his skin looked paler than normal. When he turned to look at Indira, his irises lacked their usual smoldering flames. Indira took a seat next to him.
“You did it,” he said softly. She could tell he wasn’t himself, but he still smiled at her. “People have been telling me all kinds of stories, but I was hoping to hear it from you.”
Indira started—as Alice would have suggested—at the beginning. Even if she’d told it a hundred times already, it felt brand-new with Phoenix as an audience. He filled in a few of the blank pages of the story, explaining how Brainstorm Ketty had pulled him out of class and walked him right into a trap. “There are rules about wizard duels,” Phoenix said. “She broke all of them! It was a total cheap shot. I almost melted the shackles with a pyro blast, but she just doubled the power of her snare spell. I didn’t stand much of a chance after she got the drop on me.”
Indira saw his chin dip down again. He looked out the window, and she knew he was thinking about the fact that he’d lost his fire. “Good news,” she said. “I’m here to fix you.”
That made him laugh. “Dr. Indira? None of the stories I heard involved medical degrees.”
Indira laughed as she reached out and tried to sweep a playful hand through his hair. He recoiled a little bit, though, before looking out the window again. “You’re still handsome,” she said. It felt like a rather grown-up word to say. “But I prefer you the other way. Come on.”
She stood up and walked over to the middle of the room. Phoenix stared at her helplessly. “Indira, no one can fix me. Even the doctors are stumped. I’m broken.”
“If you stayed like this forever, you still wouldn’t be broken. Not you, Phoenix.”
His jaw clenched a little. “But I’m not…I’m not me anymore. I’m just a part of me.”
“So let me fix you.”
His eyes sparked with frustration. “This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing,” Indira said. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you, but—”
“Come here.”
With a sigh, Phoenix crossed the room. Indira pulled the hammer from her belt. She frowned at the identical sides. “One second,” she said. Reaching over, she smashed a bowl of mashed potatoes sitting on the bedside table. Chunks splattered out, and ceramic shards went with them. Satisfied that she’d found the breaking side, Indira gave her hammer a twist so that she was holding it the right way. She set a hand on his shoulder.
“Okay. I’m going to hit you in the chest.”
Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy?”
“A little bit.”
“Your plan is to hit me. With a hammer.”
“Uh-huh.”
Phoenix scowled. “Well, are you at least going to tell me how that will work?”
“Don’t think so.”
“You’re being difficult.”
Indira shrugged. “Ready?”
Phoenix just stared at her. After a second, he nodded. Indira wasn’t one hundred percent confident it would work. So far in her experience her hammer only fixed things that it had been responsible for breaking, but she’d been thinking about Phoenix all day. The idea of him without his fire was too much to bear. What was the point of having a magical hammer if she couldn’t use it to help the people she cared about the most? It had to work. It just had to.
With a deep breath, Indira pulled back the hammer and then socked him with it, right in the chest. Phoenix went flying across the room, and she could hear the wind suck out of his lungs. Indira let out a little gasp. He was clutching his chest, face twisted with pain, but then a different express
ion stretched across his face. The air swirled, and the light of the room took on funny angles and shapes. Phoenix sat up, coughing his lungs out and holding up a hand. “What kind of ridiculous plan was that?”
Indira snatched the handheld mirror from his hospital room dresser. She held it out so that Phoenix could see his own toss of bright red hair, the flicker of flame in each eye. Indira couldn’t help smiling. She’d actually knocked the fire back into him. He sat there staring for a while before climbing to his feet to give her a huge hug.
A few days later, Dr. Montague was finally restored to full health. Indira was called in to confirm parts of his story. She shivered a little, hearing his voice and remembering the muttering darkness of the cauldron Ketty had used. Montague’s restoration heralded the end of Brainstorm Ketty’s secret plot. The Editors had been gathering testimony from all the victims. The tragedy professor confirmed her as his attacker as soon as his lungs synched back up with his lips. The Editors, with their dark sunglasses and even darker suits, escorted an enraged Brainstorm Ketty out of Fable for good.
Classes had already resumed, but before she could rejoin her classmates, Indira was called into the office of Brainstorm Underglass. She passed by Ketty’s old office and shivered a little. She was just happy that all of that was behind her. She knocked twice, and Underglass commanded her to enter. The diminutive woman was smiling in a way Indira hadn’t seen before.
Indira took two steps into the room before realizing they weren’t alone.
“David!”
She lunged across the room to hug her brother. He was grinning at her, full of pride.
“Brainstorm Underglass came to Quiver,” he said. “She told me about everything that happened with you and Ketty, but she had a second reason for visiting.”
“We have news from the Real World,” Underglass announced. “It involves you and David, so I wanted to make sure that you were both here for it.”
The brainstorm reached under her desk and pressed a button. The neat spreadsheets on her blackboard vanished, and the one thing she’d always wanted appeared:
Saving Fable Page 24