was unstoppable, unbreakable, unmessable-with.
And she finally understood the canyon that existed between Squall’s ability and her own. Was this how he felt … all the time?
Was this truly what it meant to be a Wundersmith?
As they walked down the empty hallway, side by side, Morrigan caught sight of her reflection in a pane of glass. She was shocked – and almost a little disappointed – to see herself looking just the same as always. How could she still be an ordinary girl on the outside, when an entire universe was swelling up inside her?
She didn’t look like an ordinary girl for much longer, however. Every few steps, they passed another window in which Morrigan saw her reflection. With every window they passed, she was changing.
It reminded her of seeing Dearborn transform into Murgatroyd, or Murgatroyd into Rook. She saw her body shrink until she was a head shorter, her hair turn grey and wispy, her limbs grow frail and bony.
‘What’s happening to me?’ Morrigan asked. She felt no panic, just a vague curiosity.
‘Masquerade,’ Squall said simply.
By the time they reached the vast oak doors leading to the quarantine ward, Morrigan’s reflection had become Elder Quinn. Yet when she looked down at her hands and body, she found they were her own. She hadn’t really transformed at all; it was just an illusion.
Squall pressed through the Gossamer, and Morrigan saw her hands push on the doors, heard the click as the lock turned, felt her legs carry her into the ward. One of the nurses rushed forward to stop her, looking startled. She walked right through Squall as if he wasn’t there. Because of course, to anyone but Morrigan, he wasn’t.
‘Elder Quinn! Forgive me but this ward is closed to everyone, even— Please, wait. You’re not wearing the appropriate—’
‘Get out. All of you.’ Morrigan felt the vibrations in her vocal cords, felt her mouth form the words, felt the air expelled from her lips. But even she could scarcely believe she’d said it; the voice was so convincingly Elder Quinn’s – frail, croaky and ancient, with a hint of steel. The nurses on duty didn’t hesitate to obey. ‘Shut the doors behind you. Don’t let anyone else in.’
Morrigan felt the illusion of Elder Quinn fall away as she and Squall were left alone in the ward.
Only they weren’t alone, of course. The walls were lined with Wunimals big and small – some in beds, some in cages – but far too many to fit comfortably in the space. Most were sedated, or at least in some half-sleeping, half-waking state that could barely be described as alive.
‘Can you sense it?’ Squall asked her. ‘The void.’
‘Yes.’
It was just as Jupiter had described. They were hollow, every one of them. Morrigan couldn’t see it the way her patron could, but she could feel it, and it was perhaps the most deeply upsetting thing she’d ever experienced – like a nausea she felt in her heart instead of her stomach. Unnatural and wrong.
No wonder Anah had been so upset lately; if Morrigan had had to be near this all the time, she’d be constantly crying too.
She cast a curious glance at Squall and saw that he was staring at the ceiling, apparently unable to look directly at the hollow Wunimals. She could feel layers of his own fear and horror and disgust. It only made her furious.
‘You did this,’ she reminded him in a low, angry voice. ‘Look at them. Maybe Wintersea asked for it, but you did it.’
He didn’t respond.
Morrigan led him from one ward through to the next, and the next, in silence. Finally she found what she was looking for.
‘Sofia!’ she cried, running to her friend. The foxwun cowered at the back of a small cage, making squeaky little chattering noises and scratching at the metal grille as if frantic to get away from her. ‘Sofia, it’s me. It’s Morrigan, you know me!’
‘She’s still in there,’ said Squall. ‘They all are. I can feel them … teetering right on the edge of something. You can feel it, can’t you?’
Morrigan nodded tearfully. She knew exactly what he meant. There was something buried deep inside Sofia’s consciousness – so deep she doubted Jupiter would have been able to sense it, even with his skill – a tiny familiar spark. Her friend was in there somewhere. She was standing before an abyss, ready to fall in at any moment, but she was still there.
‘We can reel them back in,’ Squall murmured. ‘But are you certain