Huhu. I wonder what Remi would say …. Flandre leaned out the window, watching the moon rise and the lights of the Academy die out one by one. Finally, nearly all the lights had dimmed - some few rooms seemed to have small candles, and the occasional individual could be seen sneaking around the grounds, but those wouldn't be any problem for her to avoid. Wouldn't be a problem even if I weren't careful, but best to be safe~. Fading from sight, Flan jumped onto the sill, looked carefully around for any magical familiars that could sound an alarm, then leapt into the air, gaining altitude as she flew toward the nearby forest. While the odds of finding what she wanted were slim … they weren't nonexistent there, while they were at the Academy.

As she flew on, taking her time, she thought about the dragon the bookworm had ridden. The only magical familiar-beast that didn't react negatively to me, which means … what? The girl couldn't have given it a command to not react, I'd have heard it. Unless it was through something other than voice - but it saw us first! So … it's not just some dumb animal? Maybe it's just so confident in its own power that it didn't need to be afraid? But if I ask Louise about them, then she'll get suspicious …. Oooh! Debating the merits of risking her newfound source of enjoyment took her well into the forest, until she decided to perch on a large tree overlooking a small pathway. Looking down the path one way simply led farther in that direction, but merely a short distance down the other way was a small, apparently-abandoned shack, and movement around that small building caught Flan's attention.

A tall, dark-haired man wearing a bright red tunic stumbled around the shack, weaving a little. Focusing on the man, Flan realized that he was already injured - he had several minor cuts on his arms, a wound of some kind on his side, and an arrow protruding from his shoulder. He probably wouldn't be ugly - he had a sculpted face, large biceps, and was fairly tall. His injuries didn't seem to bother him, apart from the obvious effects of blood loss, but that would change very quickly once he hit a certain point, Flan knew. Peering back the way he'd come, she didn't see anyone, and that could mean that he'd already killed them, that they were too busy recuperating, weren't interested in chasing him, or were just much slower. Regardless, this was a good chance, and she decided to make the most of it - dispelling her invisibility, she moved.

Moving was a trait that she shared with Remilia, and which Remilia had implied was not shared by other vampires, as she claimed to be "faster" than them. Moving also drove Patchouli to fits of screaming apathy, as it - according to her - shouldn't work. Moving was not teleportation, but simply a burst of blinding speed, easily capable of letting Flan move over four hundred meters in less than a second, and that wasn't even at top speed … and that was where Patchouli began complaining. According to her, moving that fast should either create a soundwave of some kind, or else require some kind of damping magic to prevent the soundwave; moving did neither, and that shouldn't be possible. Remilia's explanation of "It's magic," didn't help, since according to Patchouli moving required no magic, used no magic, emitted no magic, and simply wasn't possible. And yet, she and Remilia did it, which infuriated Patchouli to no end and led to them being banned from the library.

In any case, that was what Flan did, moving from her treetop perch to stand immediately in front of the man, cheerful grin on her face. Before she could do anything else, however, the man said, "Out of the way, brat, I have no time for you," and pushed her down before continuing his weaving path down the trail. Which was, of course, the last mistake of his life. Once Flan recovered from the shock of being ignored, she moved up behind him and hamstrung the man, ripping the talons of her right hand through the thick muscle and severing the tendons above the knee. Normally, of course, this would be when the screaming started, but Flandre had only just begun her attack. Before he could fall, before his mind could properly comprehend that he'd been attacked, she raked both claws out from spine to kidneys, going deeper as she pressed forward so that the spine remained intact, but the organs themselves were shredded. Reaching up, she grabbed his uninjured right shoulder and yanked, pulling him crosswise and slamming him to the ground beside her.

By this time, of course, the man had realized the magnitude of his mistake and probably knew he was going to die, but he didn't give up. Lunging forward in a desperate strike that must have torn even more muscle out of his damaged back, he threw all his great mass and strength behind a superlative punch aimed at shattering Flan's face. She let him strike, amused at the sight of biceps larger around than her own skull, then grabbed the wrist of his now-shattered left hand and flipped him over her head. Finally, she tore his shirt off and sliced open his stomach so she could drink his blood directly. Shock finally taking effect, the man did nothing but tremble and shake as his body began to shut down. Looking at the man's massive neck, Flan smiled. Remilia has a reputation as a light but messy eater precisely because she refused to open people up like this when she feeds. No, she always has to go for the throat. Huhu, silly girl. Great big artery like that, you'll get a faceful of blood, and when you actually take a drink everything that doesn't go down your throat goes down your dress. If you slit the chest and belly, though, you can drink to your leisure. And as Flandre leaned over to drink the blood of a dying man, she looked over herself, making certain that she had not a drop of blood marring her appearance.

It didn't take her long to finish, and she still had plenty of night left before she should be back with Louise. Ah, to not be hungry anymore. Huhu. Not that Remilia intentionally let her sister go hungry - … Probably … - but Flandre needed a lot more blood than she did. Even one person wasn't really enough to keep her sated, not for long … so she kept walking, moving the same direction the man had come from. Less than twenty minutes later, she found what seemed to be a bandit camp, one that had suffered from an attack by wolves if the bodies were any indication. The humans had survived, though, and Flan stepped into the light.

It took a few moments, but very quickly the survivors were aiming bows, spears, and melee weapons at her, though none had gotten close enough to attack without warning. Then one of the men lowered his spear and began walking toward her. "It's just a little girl," he called to his fellows. Flan grinned to herself. This time, she would move first, and she drew Laevatein as he closed to only a few meters. Her hand began itching again, as it had when she first saw the two moons of the strange and unfamiliar Halkegenian sky, and she rushed forward, Laevatein sweeping left to right to open up the man's ribcage. Flan laughed, a mad cackle of joy - Toys! Toys to break and smash and crush! All for me! - and charged into the largest concentration, only six men. Two loosed arrows at her, but they were poorly aimed, and then Flan was on them, Laevatein smashing and her right hand slashing, twisting, throwing, killing.

Flan shook her head. Ah, maybe I should talk to them first. Blinking slowly, she looked around at the devastated camp; nothing had survived her rampage intact, not even the trees around it. Putting one hand to her head, Flandre groaned at her loss of control. Then she looked down at herself and shrieked in rage, as her clothes were filthy, she was covered in blood and gore, and the taste of raw meat filled her mouth. Easy enough to fix, really, but such a complete loss of control hadn't happened to her in a long time. Not since … - realization dawned - … not since Remi stopped giving me as much blood as I needed to be 'full.' Tears began to form as the realization struck her, but she shook her head and wiped her eyes. No. I can't, not here and now. The moons were still high in the sky, meaning she had plenty of time to get back to the Academy, but Flan decided to cut her walk short and flew back as fast as she could.

Of course, she could hardly go back to Louise's room as she was. Fortunately, there were a few wells - mostly for the servants' benefit, she thought - and most were fairly hidden from casual observers. Picking one of the better-hidden ones, Flan hauled up a bucket of water and, tensing in anticipation, dumped it over her head. She didn't need to take her clothes off, after all, she just liked to - when the magic in the clothes went to work, it tingled and itched where they touched her, and she didn't exactly like being drenched by cold water. It took a second bucket for Flan to be satisfied, and then drying the clothes and cleaning what parts of her hadn't been rinsed off took merely a minor expenditure of energy radiated outward - nothing nearly as powerful as Remilia's "Nightless Castle" power, but the same principles applied - and then she quietly flew up to Louise's window and crawled into the bed with her.

Louise ran, stumbling across the unfamiliar field as the tower behind her burned fiercely. Did anyone else get out? What happened to Flandre? She wanted to stop, to turn and go back and find her familiar, the only friend she had, but fear drove her to continue fleeing. She ran, on and on, sometimes tripping over a rock or stumbling over a tree root, but she always got back up and kept on running, until finally she had to stop, had to let tortured lungs and pain-wracked legs rest.

Catching her breath, she tried to think, to remember what had happened. She'd been sleeping, but Flan hadn't been with her. Maybe she wasn't at the Academy? But how could she have left without anyone knowing? But if she was there, why didn't I see her, why didn't she come to me? Something had woken her - maybe it was whatever had caused the explosions, fierce and red, or maybe it was the screaming, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that something had woken her, and then someone had taken her by the hand, leading her down the steps of the tower and then told her to run. She had turned to demand to know what was going on … but the person, whoever she'd been, had already turned back. Was already dying, with a black leaf-shaped piece of iron piercing through her.

That had broken Louise, and she ran. There seemed to be fire everywhere in the courtyard. She couldn't find any of the other students - the only people she'd seen, living or dead, were the servants, some yelling at her to run, others glad that she still lived. Sometimes they ran back, and when Louise turned to see why, they would fall, like string-cut puppets, or fall apart as something tore through them, and then she would keep going, keep running. Mind reeling, she tried to guess what had happened, since her memory wasn't telling her anything useful.

We … the Academy was attacked. There must have been mages, commoners wouldn't have been able to cause so much destruction, wouldn't have dared to attack a school full of mages! But who would have done it, could have gotten a strong enough group here without being found out? And they'd have to be really strong, to defeat all the teachers. Louise slumped against a tree, exhausted, and began to try to figure out what she should do. I need to get to the capital, to Princess Henrietta. Whoever attacked, she'll be able to find out who and why…. Looking around, however, she realized her only means of figuring out where she wanted to go was to look back at the burning Academy … which was far too close still, too close to rule out pursuit. And Louise had no idea how to navigate by the stars, or find out what direction she was facing, or where she needed to go. The only thing she knew was that in the direction of the Academy lay danger, so she turned her back on the flames once more and began walking, moving carefully to avoid tripping on roots or rocks, or running into branches that would catch on her night-clothes.

Moving so slowly had its drawbacks, of course - specifically, that anyone chasing after her would probably be able to catch up easily, especially if they had light to see by, good shoes to protect their feet, and tough shirts and breeches to resist the tearing claws of branches. Every so often Louise would turn back to see if she could detect any torches or mage-lights, but she never did. Her first warning of pursuit was the sound of the hunters calling, in fact, and when she heard them she began to run, heedless of the damage she was doing to herself and her clothing. But they found her anyway, tracking her by some method other than sight, and then something punched into her shoulder.

Strangely enough, there was no pain, not when she was hit, not when she fell on her wounded arm, not even when she reached over with her other hand and felt the bones of her shoulder crunch beneath her fingers. Still, while it didn't hurt, her legs refused to cooperate, and she was forced to turn herself over by pushing herself over and then into a kneeling position. Maybe she could at least see the faces of her pursuers, perhaps even ask why they'd attacked, why they'd hunted down even a failure of a mage like her. But her vision began to blur even before they reached her, and she had to hold herself up by grabbing the trunk of a tree. Finally, though, they came, three or four men, and Louise raised her head to face them.

"Why? Why di-?!" She started to ask them what they'd come for, but the nearest of them simply raised his spear and drove it through her uninjured shoulder, and this time she felt pain. Burning, freezing, blinding pain, and she shrieked in agony. The man in the middle, tall, with a hat and mask, drew a slim blade and pointed it at her as stared in horror. Behind and above him, she saw a great scarlet glow, and it captivated her. The Academy. What, did I run in a great big circle? What a complete failure I am …. Choking out a sobbing laugh, Louise focused on the swordsman, who was raising his blade to thrust forward when he exploded and the great scarlet light took his place. The spear was pulled from her shoulder, causing her to gasp in pain, and then the light rushed forward to embrace her.

"I'm sorry," it said. "I'm so sorry. I won't let anything like this happen to you ever again."

Remilia Scarlet landed at the beginning of the paved path leading to the gates of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Normally she would have just flown over the gate, but Meiling liked greeting her on those rare occasions when she did use the gates, the evening was shaping up beautifully, no fairies were about, and she was in a good mood. She rarely viewed gods as anything other than arrogant nuisances, but the two newcomers on Youkai Mountain seemed polite. Indeed, they seemed amenable to letting Flandre visit - with Remilia's supervision, of course - which meant that Remilia could finally let her sister start making friends. Few people on Earth had been capable of surviving Flan's presence for very long, and the Scarlets had known even fewer. So Remilia smiled as she walked down the path, pirouetting occasionally as she made some new plan or game to play with her sister. Sakuya followed behind, carrying a basket filled with food and minor gifts, as well as the all-important invitation for Flandre to visit the Moriya Shrine.

As they reached the first gate, Meiling was just arriving, face guardedly neutral. Remilia stopped as she was greeted with a soft "Milady," and gazed thoughtfully at the guardian youkai, then turned her senses to the mansion itself. Normally overflowing with Remilia's power shot through by Flan's - results from the occasional breaches she made, all of which Remilia was aware of, including the one that Patchouli hadn't told her about - the massive complex was locked down tight. Even the slight aura of Sakuya's space-manipulation was being blocked by the wards the resident magician had raised in consequence of some happening or other. Sighing, good mood disturbed, Remilia glanced at Meiling. "I suppose Flan's gone and done something rash and Pache is going to have some words for me about getting her some friends, huh?" she said with a self-deprecating, somewhat sheepish, smile.

"There has been some trouble, yes - Lady Knowledge asked me to have you meet her in the library once you returned, Milady." That reply was uncharacteristic, and Remilia looked more closely at her familial servant. She seemed unharmed, but very tense … and the normally omnipresent fairies were nowhere in evidence. And the wards that were up were those wards, the same ones Pache had erected when she'd begun the ritual to bring the mansion and its grounds to Gensokyo - the ones Remilia and Flandre together had had difficulty breaching. She nodded to her servant and maid, then moved. Sakuya began to take some of the snacks and drinks from the basket, but Meiling shook her head. "Go with Lady Remilia. Once I finish locking the gates, if you need me I'll be in the garden." Sakuya's eyes widened; the five gates of the Scarlet Devil Mansion had never all been locked at the same time, to her knowledge - even during the Scarlet Mist Incident only three had been closed and guarded. Shaken, she nodded and turned to follow her mistress.

Remilia walked through the library doors, Sakuya appearing behind her still holding the basket. Meiling must have told her to hang onto it. Although Sakuya held higher authority among the staff by virtue of her position as Chief Maid and Remilia's personal servant, she typically listened to the older youkai unless under contradictory orders from either Remilia or Patchouli. That particular worthy was standing at a table with a mountain of books - her primary familiar searching the endless shelves for even more - staring at something within one of the five jars that sat on the desk … as did Flandre's hat, twin to Remilia's own.

"Remilia." Putting down the jar as her friend approached, the magician tried to judge the vampire's mood to see how she would react to the news, but couldn't find any clues behind the wall of determination. "… Flandre's gone. Vanished somehow, spirited out of the basement by some unknown magic." She gestured at the sealed jars. "I managed to capture a very small portion of the remaining essence, but most of it dispersed when I tried containing it. She seems to have disappeared yesterday evening; I decided against sending Meiling because I had hoped to find and retrieve your sister before you returned. Unfortunately, none of my simpler tracking spells will work with this kind of magic without extensive study, so with your permission I'd like to begin that study while you work on finding Flandre and figuring out how we get to her." The normally asthmatic youkai stood tall, eyes sharp - she had evidently used magic to bolster her physical endurance in preparation for the trials to come. Remilia stepped up to the desk and grasped one of the jars, staring blankly at the motes of light within.

"Sakuya, return to Meiling." Her voice was flat, rage and fear held in check by the iron control she'd developed to hold her sister down without hurting her regardless of the pain. "Have her go to the Hakurei Shrine and inform Reimu that, until I personally inform her otherwise, she is not welcome here. After that you are to attach yourself to Patchouli - I will be working in private and will have no need of your service until I finish." The maid didn't respond, and Remilia turned to see her looking like a kicked puppy. "Sakuya."

"Ah … yes, Milady." She bowed, turned stiffly and began walking to the doors exiting the library. Turning as she opened them, she saw the magician standing tiredly, looking down at the four jars remaining on her desk.

Remilia was already on her way back to her suite, mind racing. With the hat and her own connection, tracing where Flan had gone shouldn't be too difficult, though how to get there would probably be much more difficult. The strange magic essence, on the other hand, was an unknown. Was it used to ensure a safe travel? Was it the transporting agency itself? Was it just to penetrate the Barrier? Is it just the personal touch of the casting mage? Too many unknowns to ask easy questions, and Pache's already working on it, so I'll probably just use it to help trace Flan. She'll have some connection to it, after all, even if it is weak. And if nothing else, I can trace the mage using it. Plans for the construction she should use were considered, rejected or stored as a possibility.

Reaching her rooms, Remilia placed the hat and jar on a small table by a small, locked door and began taking off her dress. It was one she'd had made after Sakuya began working there, and wasn't designed to be taken off or put on alone, but she had enough experience to do it without tearing anything. Focus, focus. Working in silence, moving without wasted effort, she readied a small bath: cold water, because heat was unnecessary; a stiff-bristled brush, to scrape away those areas she couldn't easily reach; a small bar of lye, because it had been what she used for her beginning rituals, and the familiar was useful in going into the working trance. Although she didn't think about it, the lack of activity among the fairy staff was a great help - the silence offered no distractions. Cleansed, she stood naked, letting the water drip off her skin as she considered her next preparation, then walked to the table and locked door. While she would normally have worn a simple robe, the amount of power she was about to work with would shortly destroy any normal clothing she brought in anyway, so she did without.

Tracing a simple rune on the door unlocked it, and she picked up the hat and jar to bring inside with her. The door closed softly behind her as she walked in darkness to the small altar located in the center of the room. She placed the hat on the right side of the altar, the jar on the left, then drove her right hand into her skull, reaching around her left eyeball to sever the connections between it and her brain, then dropped the intact organ in a small bowl in the middle of the altar. Finally ready, she stepped back and began to chant. As she named them, the thousands upon thousands of runes she had etched into the solid stone of the working room with her own claws, and fed with her own blood, began to glow a brilliant scarlet in answer.

And as Remilia worked the magic of fate that she had mastered, the essence of magic within the sealed jar shimmered, and glowed scarlet in response.