Part Four

I retraced my steps past the kitchen, dining room, and to the front foyer, this time with Koakuma accompanying me. The mansion had calmed for the evening. The fairies had finished cleaning, and the senior residents had all gone either to sleep or to individual nighttime work. The halls were quiet. Sparklamps still illuminated the corridors, only because they cost nothing but ambient heat to remain lit.

I stepped down the foyer stairs, but Koa hesitated on the landing.

“When you said go for a walk,” she said, “you didn’t mean outside, did you?”

I stopped, looked back up at her. “That is generally what the expression means, yes?”

“It’s cold and dark out outside, and the wild fairies—”

I turned to face her full on. “Neither weather nor lesser youkai pose any threat to me. Come along, and with no further coaxing.”

She descended the stairs behind me. She stumbled at one point, and I feared a tumble of Koa would go crashing to the tile floor below. She just managed to catch herself on a banister.

We crossed the foyer to the main doors. I worked the heavy lock and pushed one door open. The knocker mounted to the door’s exterior rattled as Koa and I moved out into the winter night. The difference in atmosphere was immediate; it felt akin to food storage, cold and dry. My skin tightened. My breath appeared before my face in frothy white puffs.

“We didn’t stop for cloaks or scarves,” said Koa beside me, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No need.” I still held my spellcard folder in one arm. I flipped it open, thumbing through the pages. “How to keep warm on a winter walk. This will do.”

I took two slips of paper out from the folder. Both cards were inscribed with the same spell. I closed the folder again and held it between my elbow and ribs. With one hand, I held a spellcard before my face. With the other hand, I reached out and touched the other spellcard to Koa’s forehead. She winced at my touch, but did not pull away.

I drew in a breath of cold night air, then spoke the spellcard’s incantation.

In manner of deity of old,

Held equally common and sire,

Who guarded faithful from cold,

Lend forth that healing fire!

“Fire sign: Belinos Consort!”

Koakuma squealed as the spellcards flashed, lighting the courtyard for an instant. The pieces of paper vaporized, but shapeless masses of orange and red energy remained in their places. The energy morphed into the likeness of a robin. These flaming birds both rose to hover just above our heads. Their wings flapped to keep them in place, with less effort than a real bird would require to stay aloft. As these constructs worked their wings, they scattered small sparks, like those from a wood fire. The sparks fell down around is in a rough cylindrical pattern, and disappeared when they touched our clothes or the ground.

Koa looked up at the flaming bird above her head. “Wow! Is this a phoenix?” She reached up to poke the bird with one finger.

I grabbed her wrist. “Do not touch. It is hot enough to burn you. And no, this is nothing so grand as the pyroavian deity of flame and rebirth. This spell is sufficient to keep us warm for an evening stroll.”

Koa lowered her hand. She did not wrap her arms around herself, or begin shivering. She seemed comfortable, as if we were still indoors.

“I don’t feel cold anymore,” she said.

“Indeed. This spell also acts as a light source. Come now.”

I turned and walked down the short flight of steps from the doorstep to the cobblestone courtyard. My bird-shaped fire construct followed me, keeping its exact relative position over my head. It even bobbed up and down in time with my footsteps.

Koa and I crossed the courtyard. An orange pool of light surrounded us both, casting rotating shadows as we went. We passed the well in the yard’s center for the main gate. Before we reached it, the dual doors of the gate swung inwards.

“Halt!” called Meiling’s voice. “State your business and most-preferred circumstances!”

Meiling walked just within the gate’s threshold, stopping just beyond the reach of our lights. She wore no especially warm clothing, as all but the most extreme temperatures did not bother her. She stood posed with both hands raised and one foot before the other: a readied martial arts stance.

“I have no patience for your idiocy at this moment,” I said. “You are meant to challenge unknown parties from without, not known parties from within. You are mistaking the duties of a prison warden for those of a door guard. Stand aside.”

Meiling loosened from her stance, standing up straight, but she did not move from where she stood.

“I have to go above and beyond!” she said. “I’m going to guard the door so well that no one will ever pass, ever. The mistress will take notice of my superior performance, all but assuring my promotion from Door Guard to Door Guardian!”

I felt the temptation to pull out a spellcard and blast Meiling, but my folder would quickly empty if I immediately resorted to physical abuse every time she misbehaved.

“Do you not recall?” I said. “This was discussed over dinner. Perhaps you were too focused on cramming down your meal to notice, but Lady Scarlet announced that she had already considered and rejected your promotion. You will remain merely a door guard.”

Meiling’s mouth hung open. “What? How could she? I was a shoe-in! No one else has my qualifications!”

“I agree, wholeheartedly.” I gave her a comforting pat on the arm. “There are door guardians in Gensokyo with less than half your experience, which is a travesty. If this offers any comfort, I know exactly how you can claim a moral victory against your employer who has mistreated you.”

“Hm? How?”

“You must still do your job, of course,” I said, “but you can do it poorly. Allow Koa and I to leave the mansion grounds for a nighttime stroll, then let us back in when we return. If Remilia refuses to promote you to door guardian, then why should you work as hard as a door guardian?”

A mischievous smile spread over Meiling’s face. “Oooh, that’s smart. I can just stand here being lazy. It’ll look like I’m working, when I’m really not!”

I held a finger over my lips. “Koa and I will speak not a word.”

---

Meiling let us pass through the gate, then she closed it and stood at her station. Koa and I walked down the path, which would circumnavigate the lake if we took no branching trail. Once Meiling was far enough behind that she could not overhear us, Koa spoke.

“Lady Patchouli, I don’t remember Lady Remilia saying anything about denying a promotion.”

“Because she never did,” I said. “No matter. Meiling will have forgotten that conversation when we return. I will be surprised to see her even awake by then.”

On we walked, and the night was deathly quiet. We had been accustomed to the noises of warmer months: the chirping of birds, the creaking of crickets, the rustle of an animal or fairy in the woods. The muted sounds of a winter night are a sharp contrast. The only sounds were the lapping of lake water against its banks, and a rare breeze swirling in our ears.

No snow had fallen for weeks, so the path was clear. The sky above was solid black, as a slate of clouds obscured the moon and stars, casting Gensokyo in perfect dark. The only light came from the magically-constructed birds that floated in place over our heads.

“Um, Lady?” said Koa behind me. “Can I ask, where are we going exactly?”

“I have no answer,” I said. “Walk beside me. I wish for a companion, not a servant who follows at my heels.”

Koa had no difficulty gaining ground to walk at my side.

“But if we don’t know where we’re going,” she said, “how will we know when it’s time to turn back?”

“Our destination is not a physical place,” I said. “A common tradition of intellectuals is to exercise outside the home while thinking through a problem, or making sense of events in their lives.”

“Oh. So what happened last summer has been bothering you.”

I glanced at her. “What do you know of that? We have never discussed it.”

Koa shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve picked up little pieces here and there. Sometimes when you, Sakuya, Remilia or China are talking to each other, someone mentions a couple of humans who visited, a witch and a shrine maiden. Then everyone changes the subject like it’s uncomfortable to talk about.”

“It... is. I am not prepared to discuss it at length, but you are correct to observe that it weighs on our minds. It was months ago, but their visit affected us more profoundly than any event since Sakuya first came to live with—”

My voice trailed off when I noticed that Koa stood still. I stopped and turned to her.

“Something the matter?” I said.

Koa shrunk to my other side, as if putting me between herself and danger.

“I heard something,” she said.

She pointed off into the woods. I looked but saw nothing but the closest trees, their trunks illuminated by the flaming birds over our heads. Beyond that was a solid curtain of darkness.

“Doubtful any creature would wander in a night so cold and dark,” I said.

Koa pointed again. “Can’t you see it? I can’t tell what it is, but something’s there.”

I stepped to the edge of the path, pushing my circle of light past the two nearest trees. It revealed a patch of wild grass and a third tree, this one stunted and grown in the shape of a bush. I squinted into the dark, but saw no more. Koa kept close to my back.

“There!” she said, pointing over my shoulder. “It’s right there.”

“I see nothing.” I looked back at her. “I should take you home, Koa. The dark of night is frightening you into hallucinations.”

Koa opened her mouth to protest, but a new noise silenced her. I whirled around, one hand in my spellcard folder. Koa’s hands clamped onto my shoulders as she hid behind me.

“Who goes there?” I called into the woods. “Declare yourself.”

No answer came. Instead the sound continued. If I were to represent the noise with onomatopoeia, it would be ch-ch-ch-chit-ch-ch-chit. It reminded me of the chattering from an angry rodent. The bare branches of the tree-bush rattled as a creature stumbled past it.

“What is that?” I said.

“It looks like a fairy... kind of,” said Koa.

Her eyesight must be finer than mine. Perhaps all my years of reading had caused nearsightedness. The creature moved forward, slowly entering the circle of light. At first look, it did resemble a lesser fairy. It was the same size, had a humanoid form, and had a pair of wings on its back. Other than those similarities, it was like no youkai I had ever seen.

Koakuma gasped. “Look at that poor thing. What happened to it?”

If the creature was a fairy, it had suffered gross mutilation. Instead of fair skin that mimicked the loveliest of human women, it was covered in a leathery hide like that of a burn victim. Its limbs hung off its body in strange angles. Its legs were bent so that it walked like a clumsy cripple. Its wings were not translucent or colorful as fairy wings are. Instead they dark flaps of flesh that drooped off its back.

“Good gods,” I said, shocked by the sight.

Another chit-ch-ch-ch-chit noise came. I looked up to see another ruined fairy pushing past the bush. This second fairy was differently mangled, but it was in no better condition than the first. Its left arm was mostly whole, but its right arm was missing completely. A melted fleshy stump hung off its shoulder where the arm had been. Both creatures’ mouths were pulled back from their teeth, clattering together in sounds of ch-ch-chit-ch-ch-chit.

“Lady!” Koa’s hands trembled on my shoulders. “They’re coming this way.”

More appeared from the darkness, coming out of the woods in a broad semicircle. Slowly they approached us.

“Step back.” I put an arm to Koa’s midriff and pushed her back. We receded across the path, putting our backs to the strip of grass that lined the lake shore.

“Oh my gosh!” said Koa, still cowering behind me.

Many more of the ruined fairies filtered out of the woods, marching on the path like a poorly-organized infantry. Their voices layered one on another, creating an ear-grating chorus of chit-ch-ch-chit-ch-ch-ch-chit-chit. They often knocked into each other, collapsing in a pile of broken limbs and hard-tanned skin. Their companions gave no thought to the fallen, simply climbed over them to continue toward Koa and me.

I looked over the throng, trying for an estimate of their number. I initially guessed at six dozen, until another wave of them came into the light. I revised my count to one hundred and fifty, and then another mass of them became visible.

Chit-ch-ch-chit-chit-ch-ch-chit, they chattered.

“At least three hundred of them,” I said. “Hold still, Koa. We should—”

My breath was taken from me. A breeze blew into my face, carrying the horrid stench of these creatures. My body rebelled against the smell. I nearly vomited my dinner into a pool at my feet. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand, swallowed hard to keep my bile down.

Koa turned her head away and retched, making an “Aack!” noise from deep in her throat. I shared the disgust she felt. This smell was far too familiar: the odor of charred hair and boiled blood. It was too similar to the smell that wafted up through the mansion while Sakuya prepared Flandre’s meals, before our human visitors had arrived last summer.

“Hold still!” I said, as if it would reduce our nausea.

Koa took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Shouldn’t we, um, run?” she said.

“They are attracted to our light sources,” I said. “I cannot deactivate the spell without subjecting us to the cold, but nor will I lead these creatures back to the mansion. I must destroy them.”

“Then please do, Lady!”

The front line of the horde drew close, forming a loose curve within several feet of me. They did not move quickly. I had time to find a suitable spellcard from within my folder.

“Now let me see... how to eliminate hideous creatures. Ah, here.”

I pulled a spellcard out from the folder’s pages. I held the slip of paper up in two fingers and spoke the incantation.

Humble serpent of flame,

Four foot and belly to the earth

I summon forth the same

Whole might from thine hearth

“Fire sign: Salamander Crawl!”

I waved my hand in an arc before me. Bright red magical energy poured from my hand into a convex shape on the ground. One second after the spell was laid down, it spread forward like an unrolling blanket and covered the ground in a layer of fire. It fanned out over the ruined fairies. This was a fast-acting spell, meant to create high temperatures in its area of effect, so as to kill quickly.

No such thing happened. The fairies were unharmed. Fire licked at their bodies, but they did not burn. It passed over them as fire passes over stone. They continued their unsteady march toward us, all the time chattering; ch-ch-ch-chit-chit-ch-chit-chit.

“It’s not hurting them!” said Koa.

“Seems they are immune to fire,” I said. “Fall back.”

The fire spell faded, leaving a blackened patch of earth. Turning so that we could retreat along the path rather than into the lake, we stepped back from the horde. They followed us, their full numbers turning onto the path.

“Please stop them!” said Koa. “Don’t let them get us!”

“No need for panic,” I said. “This is an unexpected opportunity. I have wanted a chance to test a new style of combat spell in the field. Keep backing up slowly. Stay behind me, but face them at all times.”

I opened my spellcard folder and thumbed through the pages. I found the card I was looking for, pulled it loose.

A tribute of those

To whom magic is unknown

And long ago chose

Through mechanism, power shown.

“Metal sign: Assault Rifle!”

This spell’s effect is drastically different versus the spells I am known to cast. The spellcard disappeared in a flash, leaving a rapidly-shifting magical construct in my hands. I held it from below, as I had seen soldiers do in books. The construct took the shape of my approximation of an assault rifle, a common armament wielded by outworlder soldiers. It gained weight and became solid, tugging down my arms.

“What in the world is that?” said Koa, looking at the construct.

I offered no answer. Instead, I stopped walking backwards, stood still and squared up my stance. I held the rifle up to my eye, lining the two fins on the weapon’s top with my target. I aimed for the foremost of the fairies. I curled my right forefinger around the trigger, and pulled.

The result caught me off guard. The magical instructions mimicked an assault rifle, flinging bullet-sized constructs out the muzzle. I had designed the spell to fire four hundred times before failing, and I expended five percent of those cycles with the first trigger pull. The weapon bucked against me, pounding into my shoulder and knocking me back into Koakuma.

The recoil caused my aim to climb sharply. The bullets missed the front fairy that I had aimed for, but tore a line through the ranks behind it. A few of the ruined youkai exploded into chunks. The rifles aim jumped up, and I had too little strength to hold it down. Some bullets hit the ground behind the group of fairies. The rest shot off into the night sky.

My ears were numb from my weapon’s first discharge. Its noise was painfully loud, like dozens century-old trees falling to the ground in rapid succession. Behind me, Koakuma clapped her hands over her ears and shrieked. Her voice sounded as if a mile away. I took my finger from the trigger a bare second after I had pulled it, which brought the rifle back under my control.

“Foolish!” I yelled. “Equal and opposite reaction! I failed to take physics into account.”

I had no further time to chastise myself. The horde advanced still. I took several steps back, pushing Koa behind me further. Then I stood still, took aim, and fired again.

I exercised more caution. I depressed the trigger for only a fraction of a second each time, sending a short burst of bullets into the fairy mob. This kept the muzzle climbing from out of control and let me maintain better aim on my target. The fairies failed to the spell. Each one hit disintegrated, limbs ripped off, holes punched through their bodies. Youkai blood spattered the dirt path. Dismembered fairy parts littered the ground.

Every bullet hurt me as well. The weapon’s recoil battered me, and I would suffer bruising on my chest and arms. I am slight of frame, and my body is too light to absorb the shock. Each shot pounded a new level of ringing into my ears. I was deaf while using this weapon. I hoped my hearing was not permanently damaged.

I kept firing. The assault rifle destroyed the fairies. I had more bullets to expend than targets to eliminate, but it was impossible to land every shot. Near the end, when most of the fairies had been torn apart, I had to aim carefully at the remain fairies.

The final fairy fell to the first bullet of a burst. I pulled the trigger again, and its internal mechanics only clicked. The construct faded from my hands, its weight lifted from my arms, and the assault rifle was gone. My legs failed me. I realized that until now, my thighs and calves had been clenched to keep me upright. I fell to my knees. It took all strength to remain even in that position. If my body had its way, I would have fallen on my side and not returned to the Scarlet Mansion unless someone carried me.

I heard a distant sound, a buzzing above my muffled sense of hearing. Koa stepped in front of me, still holding her hands over her ears.

“Lady Patchouli!” she yelled into my face. Her voice was the distant sound. She pulled her hands from the sides of her head to catch me from toppling over.

“I am well.” I shook my head to clear the ring in my ears, but it helped little.

Koa helped me to my feet. “Did your spell work how you wanted?”

“It worked far too well. I too closely emulated the workings of the weapons from beyond the Boundary.”

“Was it supposed to be that loud?” she said. “My ears hurt.”

“Mine as well,” I said. “I will refine the spell at a later time. For now, let us return.

“And the smell too.” Koa took to my side, encouraging me to rest my weight against her as we walked. I would have submitted to that position, had I not noticed the fairy remains on the road.

The bloody, stinking spread of dismantled fairies still covered the dirt path.

“Wait,” I said, stopping Koa. “Look.”

She glanced back at the mess on the road. “Yuck. I don’t wanna look at that.”

“No,” I said. “Think for a moment. Youkai are beings composed of magical energy. Upon death, that energy disperses.”

Koa realized. “Oh! You’re right. Fairies fade away when they die. Then why....?”

We stood, staring at the mess, expecting it to sparkle out of existence at any moment. There remained the byproduct of massacre.

“Then maybe....” Koa’s brow scrunched in thought. “Maybe they’re not really dead?”

I shook my head. “No lesser youkai could sustain that much damage. There must be—”

My breath was taken from me again. The smell, ever present, returned with new vigor. Both Koa and I slapped hands over our mouths as we gagged from the stench.

“Oh gods, how foul!” I said.

Koa dared a look back at the carnage, and her hand fell from her face. She gasped, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“L-lady...,” was all she could say.

I looked, and saw what stunned her. I blinked twice to ensure that neither the dark nor my recent beating interfered with my sight. There was no mistaking this. Koa was right. The fairies were not dead.

Their body parts were moving.

“This is not happening,” I said. “I killed them.”

Limbs and torsos moved of their own volition. Arms grabbed the dirt if their hand was still attached, and propelled themselves by bending and unbending at the elbow. Hands that had no arms walked on their fingers like a spider. Legs used their ankle joints to gain purchase with their foot, and repeatedly flexed muscles around the knee. Bodies simply rolled, or used any attached limbs to scrape along. Heads came to life again, whether decapitated or on their necks. Every fairy mouth worked in unison, teeth chattering.

Ch-ch-chit-ch-chi-chi-ch-ch-ch-chit.

“Koa,” I said.

“Y-yes, Lady Patchouli?” she said.

“I do not know what we are witnessing, but whatever is transpiring here, we will not find its result favorable. Do you agree?”

“I sure do.”

The body parts gathered together on the patch of bloodied earth. The broken fairies and their pieces all piled together, crawling over each other like a hive of insects, making a mound of slick quivering flesh.

“Then I am indecisive,” I said. “It seems wise to retreat to the mansion, but if we leave this unattended, it may pose a threat to someone else, or even follow us home.”

“I’ll do what you think is best, Lady,” said Koa. “I trust you’ll protect us.”

“That may be beyond my abilities.” I put a hand over my chest. I was sore. I would feel tonight’s exploits for days to come.

“You were just experimenting,” she said. “If you got serious, nothing could stop you.”

Some deep part of me warmed, and it tugged a smile at my mouth.

“Your confidence in me is flattering,” I said, “and hopefully not misplaced.”

The pile of fairy parts increased in activity. The mound tightened, each part trying to climb higher on top of the others. Its shape resembled a distorted man sitting with his knees pulled to his head.

Then the head looked up.

Koa let out an eek! noise and clung to me. I stared, dumbfounded.

“Impossible,” I said.

The man-shape stretched out two long arms. Its hands were tipped with dismantled fairy parts that were proportionally sized as fingers. The man-shape leaned forward, getting its legs beneath itself and standing. It rose to at least six and a half feet. Its torso was heavily built, containing the majority of the fairy bits. Its head and limbs were too long and thin by comparison.

Chit-chit-ch-ch-chit-chit chit-ch-ch.

“This is insane!” I said. “How are the parts adhering to one another? How do they move in unison?”

As I spoke, the man-shape’s head rotated. If its shape was any indication, it had turned to face us.

“Um,” said Koa. “It’s looking at us.”

“Perhaps we can communicate.” I waved a hand at the man-shape. “Hello! Are you cognizant? Do you understand understand speech? Hanashikotoba o rikai shite imasu ka?”

It stomped one foot toward us. The ground shook under its weight, and our knees trembled to let us keep our balance.

“I don’t think it’s friendly,” said Koa.

“This is nonsense,” I said. “Those fairies do not have that much mass, even collectively.”

The man-shape put forth its other foot, sending another tremor through the earth. It held forth both arms, folding its grotesque hands into fists. Koa tugged at my dress, pulling me back.

“Oh,” I said. “I see. The fairies were not simply attracted to the light the warmth spell. They are outright hostile.”

The shape took another step forward. My knees nearly buckled under the miniature quake. One more step and I would be within its reach.

Koa pulled me more forcefully, and I stepped back with her.

“Then maybe we should go?” she said.

I flipped open my spellcard folder. “I must have something here. How to eliminate vile abominations of life. Let me see....”

Chit-ch-ch-chit-chit-ch-ch-chit-ch-chit-ch-ch-ch-chit.

I snapped the folder shut. “No, I have no spellcard sufficient for this task.” I turned, pushing Koa. “Run!”

She was happy to comply. She took my hand and sprinted down the path as quickly as she could. That, unfortunately, was faster than I. I lagged behind, fighting to keep up, my feet forced to cover more ground than my stride spanned. Behind us, the man-shape gained speed. Its feet pounded the dirt path, shaking the trees as it went. Even the lake waters were disturbed, splashing to and from the shore.

“Faster, Lady!” Koa yelled. Her monochrome dress whipped into my face as we ran.

The man-shape gained on us. It would catch us long before reached the mansion gate.

“Look!” Koa pointed ahead. “Something’s coming this way!”

I tried to see what she referred to, but the monster caught me just then. My ponytails trailed behind me as I ran, and the man-shape grabbed them both in one hand. It yanked me back, and I screamed as if I had just been scalped. My hand tore free of Koakuma’s. I fell back onto the ground. Spikes of light exploded in my vision as my head hit the dirt. The air was knocked out of my chest.

“Patchouli!” Koa screamed my name. She stopped and ran back to me, though I had no idea what she hoped to accomplish. I wanted to yell at her to keep going, to run fast and far. I had already fallen to the monster, and there was no sense in her sacrificing herself. I could draw no breath.

“Run!” My mouth formed the word, but I had no wind to voice it.

The monster stepped over me, and I expected it to strike me, but it passed me and charged into Koa. It battered her with a back-handed slap. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground. There she lay motionless.

I tried to sit up, but could only roll onto my side. I searched for my spellcard folder, but I had lost it when I fell. Just ahead of me, the monster looked at Koa’s beaten form on the dirt. It put one foot under her midriff and kicked her off the path. The momentum carried her down the slope to the lake shore and out of sight. I heard the splash, and saw the puff of rising steam from the extinguished warming spell.

“Koa!” I tried to yell, my chest struggling to inflate. Done with Koa, the monster stepped back to me. It regarded me for a moment, then pulled back a fist. It would punch down and flatten my head like a melon under a hammer.

“Don’t touch her!” yelled a new voice.

A red line of light passed through the monster’s arm, which then separated from the shoulder. The fist that was about to kill me lost its cohesion to the rest of the monster. The detached limb collapsed into hundreds of bloody fairy bits. I tried to crawl away, but I was still pelted with tiny body parts. One bald fairy head bounced off my scalp. It was then I noticed that my hat was missing.

I kept crawling. The monster was more interested in the newcomer who had cut its arm off, so I took the opportunity to flee. Even crawling is difficult when struggling to breathe. I only made it a few feet before looking back at whoever had rescued me.

There stood my mistress, Remilia Scarlet, facing the monster. The scene might have been comical in other context, a girl standing against a beast twice her height. Her eyes burned with angry red light, brighter than the warmth spell that still hovered over me. She held out one arm with an active combat spell. A great red spear, translucent and glowing as if made from luminescent ruby, twirled in air near her hand. The spear did not touch her, but followed her hand so that she could wield it without offsetting its weight. It ceaselessly spun, cutting a deep whoop whoop whoop noise into the air.

“What circle of Hell did you spawn from?” said Remilia.

The monster swung its remaining fist at her. It could not hit Remilia; it was far too slow to catch her. The next second, she was behind it. With that movement, she sliced the blade of her spear through the monster’s arm, freeing it from the shoulder. Another burst of fairy parts spattered to the ground.

Remilia gave the monster no time to try kicking her. With two quick motions, she cut off both legs at the thigh. The monster’s now-quadriplegic body fell onto the pile that used to be its legs.

Remilia looked back at me. “Patchouli! Can this thing regenerate?”

I nodded, and I barely had breath to answer.

“Yes!” I said. “Magic does not permanently harm—”

“You haven’t tried my magic!” Remilia gripped her spear, stopping its rotation. She ran forward and leaped, jumping over the squirming pile of fairy parts. At the apex of her flight, she stabbed her spear into the ground and let it go. Her momentum carried her over the mess, and she landed on the strip of grass near the lake shore.

The spear was now planted in the dirt among the monster’s reforming body. Remilia stood straight and held up a hand. An aura of red light grew around her. The same light also glowed from the spear, and it vibrated as if reverberating to someone’s heartbeat.

“Hold it!” said Remilia. “Wait for it. Let it gather.”

The monster’s parts collected around the spear. It seemed the monster might attempt to absorb the weapon, take its power for itself. The head began to rise as its limbs regrew.

“Good enough!” said Remilia. She held both her hands. “Spear the Gungnir!”

The light from the spear tripled in brightness. It became too bright to look at, but I could look at nothing else. The spear’s vibrations ceased, and its pent-up energy seemed ready to explode, but it did the opposite. Instead of bursting outward, it sucked inward. All the fairy body parts were pulled toward the spear, and it burned them in a worse way than fire could. Each part was incinerated. A spherical cloud of the fairy bits surrounded the spear, but that cloud shrunk until the spear had absorbed the last of it.

Off to the side, Remilia had both hands up as if grappling with a tough opponent. Managing this spell took all her strength and focus. Once the monster was gone and only the spear remained, Remilia pointed a finger to the sky. The spear followed, pulling free of the dirt and shooting up to the clouds. It flew higher and higher, a trail of sparkling ruby light behind it. When it had gone so high that I could no longer see it, then it exploded.

A scarlet burst webbed across the sky above us. It reminded me of an outworlder cultural phenomenon: using chemical technology, the people beyond the Boundary created recreational spectacles they called fireworks. The name is fitting. Remilia’s spell might have been seen anywhere in Gensokyo for the brief time it appeared, and it was an impressive working of fire.