Adah couldn’t fall back asleep that night. She sat with her back against her bedroom door for what must have been a couple of hours before giving up on the idea of returning to bed. She walked over to the whiteboard hanging from the wall and erased most of what was written on it. She no longer needed all of her notes about the carnival prep. In their place, she’d fill this board with as much info about the Cruelties and their portals as she could gather.
That had been the reason for the carnival in the first place. If anything good could come from that nightmare, it was refocusing Adah on her mission.
Still, something like that couldn’t happen in reality, could it? Adah wanted to avoid a future where the Cruelties could bring any great harm to humanity, but was that the sort of future she was fighting against?
“Don’t be stupid,” she whispered to herself. “That was just a dream.”
Right, those were images her own brain had conjured up. They were her own memories and ideas that had been mixed in a boiling cauldron with her worst fears. That nightmare didn’t reveal anything about the Cruelties, only about what was lurking in her subconscious.
Yet, just in case she was wrong, Adah wrote a few notes about the details she could remember from her dream down the side of the whiteboard.
☆☆☆
After organizing her thoughts about her next moves on the whiteboard—if Elise was going to be the next Secretary, Adah wanted to put her to work right away—and giving her body a good stretch, the morning sun tiptoed into Adah’s room. The light wormed its way through the slots between the window blinds. To Adah, it was like someone had cracked the shell of an egg she’d been trapped within. The cloak of dread she’d been carrying on her back since her nightmare started to slip away as a new day welcomed her.
Adah sat on her bed and checked her phone. Supposedly, today the governor would announce Elise’s appointment as Region 4’s next Secretary of Magic. From there, the woman was certain she’d be approved by the regional reps without any roadblocks. Adah believed her. The phone calls and emails from her fans would have had an even greater effect on those lower-level politicians than they had on the governor. Not to mention, Elise surely had her own means of influencing their decisions.
Elise hadn’t sent Adah any updates yet, but the day had only just begun. Most people wouldn’t even have started work yet. Most likely, the governor’s announcement would come in the evening, with the approval process rushed through overnight. Any attention drawn to Elise’s appointment would also remind the public of Thibault’s resignation, after all. The region’s politicians would want wrap this process up as quickly and quietly as possible, putting this whole affair in the past before any of their careers got caught in the crossfire.
Thinking about that, along with seeing today’s date on her phone’s lock screen, Adah realized why Elise was so sure the governor would make his decision today. Adah had thought taking out another Cruelty might influence the governor’s timeline, but she hadn’t expected it to have this swift of an impact.
And she was right. His decision likely had very little to do with yesterday’s mission.
If he wanted to hide this business in the shadows, today was the best possible day to do so. Today, the media would be fixated on a much flashier piece of magic-related news: the Aino Awards, or Ainos.
Every January, select magic users across the nation would be recognized for their outstanding efforts in the prior year. The honor was named after Auroral Aino, one of the first magical girls to partner with a mascot and fight the Cruelties head on over thirty years ago. Aino had laid the foundation for how magical girls would attempt to inspire humanity, boosting their own power in the process.
Back then, so few humans had paired with mascots, and the Cruelty threat had been so extreme, that every magic user had received a moderate degree of public support simply for braving that threat. Aino had done more than fight for humanity, though. She constructed her larger-than-life persona in order to give humanity hope. Instead of being a faceless soldier, she took on the role of a hero and a symbol of humanity’s resilience. In a sense, she had been the First Light.
Auroral Aino lost her life in a battle against a Cruelty of such power humanity had never seen before. Eventually, that Cruelty was discovered to have been the first of the S-Ranks. Right as Aino’s efforts began to turn the tides of this war in humanity’s favor, the Cruelties struck back with their deadliest weapons. Aino had managed to destroy that first S-Rank at the cost of her own life, and was honored posthumously with what would become the first of the Aino Awards. To keep her legacy alive, new awards were granted to deserving magic users each year, for those who continued to serve humanity as she had.
Yet, nothing could remain uncorrupted in this industry.
What had originated as a somber ceremony in the style of awarding military honors had grown more bombastic over the decades. As the role and perception of magic users in society shifted, so too did the atmosphere of the ceremony and the awards presented during it. Now, the Ainos even included awards for the entertainment side of the industry, lazily disguised as “community service and engagement recognitions.”
Through this, the ceremony had essentially become another high society award show, with fans tuning in to support their favorite magic users or teams in the same way they’d root for their favorite movies or albums at their respective shows. Those serious honors for valor and sacrifice had been relegated to small, regional ceremonies that received some evening news coverage and not much else.
Maybe Elise could start her tenure off on the right note by holding such a ceremony for Ekki and his sacrifice. While she was at it, Ami and Seliah deserved proper recognition for what they had done at the shopping center. If Elise wanted to make right on all that Thibault had done wrong, that’d be a good place to start.
At any rate, the Aino Awards would help shroud Thibault’s departure and Elise’s appointment. The ceremony would be broadcasted this evening, exactly when Adah had expected the governor would make his announcement. While everyone’s attention was focused on the awards, Elise could slip quietly into her new role. It was smart, Adah had to admit, if a little opportunistic. This whole Secretary affair would wind up as a second order news item the following morning, while most people would still be talking about who won what awards the night before.
This year’s Ainos would be particularly convenient for such a plan.
Among the awards granted would be the occasional Lifetime Service Award, presented to magic users who had served the country in some capacity for at least 25 years. Most magic users wouldn’t stay at active agencies for that long, but would continue to serve as wardens like Ketzia, as trainers or exam proctors for new magic users, or in some other role that contributed to the fight against the Cruelties.
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This year, Magical Pureheart Chu would receive her Lifetime Service Award.
Thinking of watching her idol on TV after last night’s dream caused Adah to shudder, but she shook that uneasy feeling off. Seeing the real Pureheart would be good for her. The true image of her idol would erase the corrupted version from her mind.
Her imagination couldn’t compete with reality, after all.
☆☆☆
The magical girls of the Last Light gathered in the agency lobby yet again, joined this time by Seb. Grace had left for the evening, taking a well-deserved night for herself, so the four girls and their now assistant producer had the lobby to themselves.
For all her misgivings about what the Ainos had become, Adah had to count herself among those who wanted to watch the spectacle. The way she had pitched it to herself—as well as her teammates—was that she was conducting research on her competitors. It was simply best practice to keep an eye on who the most famous or popular magic users were.
Besides, she could use a distraction from last night and a way to kill time before Elise was confirmed as Secretary.
Adah and her teammates had arranged themselves in an impractical fashion around the lobby. She and Rika shared a blanket on the couch, with their legs twisted into an impossible pretzel underneath. Emi and Seb were also packed onto the couch, sharing a blanket of their own. This couch wasn’t big enough for four people to sit comfortably, but that wasn’t an issue for Adah. She made sure to take up all the room she needed, stretching out well past the halfway point of the cushions. If her comfort came at the expense of Seb’s space—well-he’d just have to scrunch up closer to Emi, wouldn’t he?
Meanwhile, Ami had claimed the leather chair for herself. She sat on it sideways, nearly lying flat on her back with her legs hanging over the chair’s arm. She had also claimed their bowl of popcorn all for herself. Perhaps she’d realized that Adah wouldn’t stand up to take it away from her, lest she give Seb an opportunity to spread out away from Emi. Alas, such was the duty of a captain.
The Aino Awards ceremony played out on the television that hung from the lobby wall. The show was a little over halfway finished, with only the big ticket awards yet to be announced. Of course, there would be a Team of the Year award, along with others like Best Magical Single, Best Magical Performance, and Aino Honors for teams and individuals who were deemed particularly impressive combatants. These would all be announced after a brief intermission, but first came the Rising Star Award.
“Why the hell weren’t we even nominated for that?” Ami asked as the show’s host listed this year’s nominees.
“There are rising stars, and then there are rising stars,” Rika said.
“We’re more like rising light bulbs,” Adah added. “Remember, we didn’t even take out a B-Rank on our own until the end of the year. Compared to these teams, that’s still small game. It’s a safe bet that Desiire are going to win this, and they’re still waiting in reserve for an S-Rank. It didn’t take them much longer than a year to get there, either. That’s a rising star.”
“Yeah, but they started at the top of a mountain,” Seb said. “You all had to fight your way up to where you are.”
“Up out of the sewers,” Emi said.
Seb frowned and said, “I just mean they came from a big agency. They had everything they needed to be successful from day one. Maybe that helped them get to this point first, but it doesn’t mean you won’t surpass them.”
Emi looked up at him for a moment before turning back to the TV. Then, she nodded without a word.
“I get what you’re saying,” Adah said, “but Desiire’s a bad example. They’re a serious team with serious potential. The S-Rank is one thing, but they have a solid claim of being the strongest team in combat right now, too. They’re kind of like Sheffa and them in that way—they’re eye candy for their fans and devils for the Cruelties. Even if they’d started at some no-name agency, I’m sure they’d wind up in this same spot.”
“What the hell?” Ami said. “You’re talking like they’re better than us.”
Adah smiled. Sometimes Ami set her up so nicely, without even realizing it.
“If you don’t have a rival you want to knock off their throne,” she said, “you’ll be content to sit your ass down on yours all day.”
She had called Desiire a rival, but in truth, they’d probably never heard of the Last Light. If they had, they certainly didn’t view Adah and her team as their rivals. That was fine, though. Adah was serious about catching up to them, so they’d come to know her face very well soon enough.
For tonight, however, she was the one watching their faces. As she’d predicted, Desiire was announced as the winners of the Rising Star Award. The four boys, dressed in matching thin, black suits, walked onto the main stage. Their handsome leader accepted a golden statue in the shape of Auroral Aino’s silhouette from the host, then winked at the camera.
Their captain went by Lysalt Locke. His hair was as black as Adah’s and his eyes as sharp, and Adah had grown painfully aware that they could pass as siblings. Yet, where Adah played a haughty and slightly sadistic character, Locke played a swan whose feathers could never be ruffled. He was light on his feet but strong in his movements. He always seemed interested in what the person interviewing him had to say, to the point he often ended up asking them questions instead. His smile was warm, and he almost looked embarrassed by how happy he could get.
To Adah, he was nauseatingly charming, which is how she knew he’d continue to be a massive hit as a magical boy.
After a short acceptance speech that the group spent hyping themselves up for their eventual S-Rank fight, Desiire departed the stage. The show was supposed to move to an intermission after that, but once the camera centered on the host again, she explained there would be a slight change in schedule. Pureheart’s Lifetime Service Award would be presented before the break.
The presentation itself was rushed, beginning with a highlight reel that was projected onto a screen at the back of the stage without warning. The video showed of some memorable moments from Pureheart’s concerts and battles throughout her career, most of which Adah had already burned into her memory. Then, just as suddenly as the reel began, the camera cut back to the podium at center stage, where Pureheart was already standing with her award in hand.
The legendary magical girl wore a dark blue dress, sleek but conservatively cut. Instead of her signature twintails, she had tied her hair into a complicated updo. Unlike some of the other award recipients tonight, she had on no jewelry of any kind. Even her makeup was barebones, to the point that her face almost appeared washed out under the bright stage lights.
“Does she look different to you?” Adah asked.
“Different?” Rika said. “I mean, she’s not transformed, but other than that I don’t think so.”
“That’s good,” Adah said quietly. She noticed Rika look at her out of the corner of her eye, but pretended not to.
Perhaps it was a good thing Pureheart looked so different here than in her sparkling transformation. Even with all of its colors and decorations, that magical girl outfit would still have been closer to the image of Pureheart from Adah’s nightmare than this version that had appeared on stage. Tonight’s Pureheart looked unquestionably human. Beautiful still, but normal.
Though the presentation had been rushed, apparently the show still had enough space for Pureheart to say a few words. She stepped closer to the podium and took a sweeping look around the theater in which the ceremony was being held.
“Thank you for this,” Pureheart said.
She glanced down at the statue in her hands. Her eyes remained on the image of the fallen magical girl as she continued to speak.
“I’m grateful to have seen the world become a safer place during my life,” she said. “Thanks to the effort of the people here tonight, as well as those who are not. I hope that the future can remain safe and bright, and I hope that I can see that future, too.”
Pureheart paused again and looked all over the crowd once more.
“I hope that remains the will of humanity.”
Pureheart smiled and waved, then walked off stage.
Ami threw up her hands and said, “That’s it? She didn’t even bring out her rabbit or whatever it is!”
“Didn’t you see her looking at her award?” Seb said. “She probably knew Aino—they were working during the same timeframe for a while. She probably wanted to keep things serious.”
“I don’t know,” Ami said. “Didn’t you wanna hear more from her, Adah?”
Adah opened her mouth to answer, but was stopped short by a buzzing in her pocket. If she was getting a message this late at night, it could only mean one thing. She untangled her legs from Rika’s and slid her phone out of her pocket.
Sure enough, Elise had sent Adah an update via text.
“It’s done,” her message read. “I’ve been asked to keep my head down for a while. Once my house is in order, let’s discuss our future.”