Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“It’s all your fault, you know.”

Tally Craven paces in front of the alder tree that stands tall in the heart of Fort Salem’s grounds. The crunch of dry leaves under her boots is the only sound stirring an eerie silence, one that can only be found in the middle of the night.

A silence Tally has grown deeply familiar with.

“We thought it was done.” She looks up, blinded by beams of moonlight that filter through the clouds. “The war, the draft, the hatred… It was all supposed to be over.”

Tally closes her eyes, almost tasting the profound relief she shared with her sisters after a bittersweet helicopter, months ago.

They won the war. There would be no more fight, no more shed blood, no more death.

They were stewards of the Mother.

Goddesses.

Them.

As she stood with Raelle and Abigail in a group hug under a sky of faded orange, a kindle of anxiety ignited in Tally’s stomach. One she could see reciprocated in her sister’s eyes.

Despite the strength of their powers, they had no idea how to be stewards, how to deal with an entire world turning to them for guidance.

Tally certainly didn’t feel like a Goddess.

But there was no time to worry back then.

As they walked away from the helicopter, Scylla reached them and swept Raelle into a hug.

Adil wasn’t far behind to clutch Abigail to him, dazed.

Tally did her best to convince herself she was feeling the same sense of comfort that was etched on her sisters’ faces, when Gregorio’s arm fell across her shoulders.

Not that it lasted very long.

The following two weeks turned into a blur of celebration. They received awards and military commendations from all over the world, visited with curious politicians, gave speeches to what Tally now realizes were handpicked crowds of new witches.

The whirlwind left them with very little time to visit the loved ones they missed while being on the run or to check in with the army at Fort Salem.

Until the picture of their perfect happy ending started to crack.

Little by little, politicians went from showing polite curiosity to demanding answers about the extent of their new powers. Speeches to wide-eyed recruits were interrupted by protests, by people who had lived decades without being a witch and begged to go back to their old life.

Tally understood the desperation.

She would give anything to return to a time before the war. Even the first few days of basics, when she was juggling Raelle’s apparent disinterest and Abigail’s search for perfection seem so simple with hindsight.

The popular discontent grew quietly, once it became clear there was no way to return anyone to their old life.

Unaddressed it seeped through every continent, every country. It festered like a wound that goes untreated for too long

Until the Camarilla returned.

With their new approach, the organization turned into a means of catharsis. They were quieter and restricted their violence to words and demands of official investigations.

Goddess, Tally should have seen it coming. Despite the reach of her Sight, she missed what was right under her nose.

Once given a public tribune, the Camarilla whispered their twisted ideas into the ears of millions. How could a handful of witches impose their will on the entire world? What was the true reach of their powers? Did they have the ability to control new witches?

The movement grew in popularity until its supporters earned enough legitimacy to gain control of public offices, where they were granted access to military records.

That’s when the list started.

A list of individuals put together by multiple countries, that referenced anyone born with powers before doomsday.

Tally snickers, bitter.

For a few weeks, the day where the word changed was called the Beginning.

Since the Camarilla’s campaign of fear, it became Doomsday.

Anyone who was a witch before that date was treated as a suspect, in their absurd quest to find someone to blame for the earth-shattering changes the world underwent.

Tally, Abigail and Raelle stopped traveling and spent many hours with Petra Bellweather, in an attempt to counter the influence of the Camarilla.

It was too late.

Bolstered by an uptick of public support, the Camarilla turned their investigation into trials.

Not that it reassembled any form of justice.

Tally watched, horrified, as groups of soldiers who were drafted before the war were dragged away to witches’ prisons.

She felt sick.

Everyone at Fort Salem felt sick.

Blinded by their emotions, every officer volunteered when General Bellweather put together special forces to free the captive soldiers.

Tally, Abigail and Raelle themselves were scheduled for a large-scale rescue mission in the North of Spain, one that was meant as a statement more than anything else.

They never realized they were being baited.

The army’s first attempt at breaking five women out of a small jail in a corner of Romania happened a week before Tally’s planned deployment.

It turned violent.

The strike team was spotted, windstrikes and scourges flew around, and an innocent guard was killed while former prisoners escaped, unscathed.

One life lost.

A burning match, dropped in a barrel of gunpowder.

The tragedy allowed the Camarilla to drop their mask, to demand retribution from who they called war criminals.

Tally swallows, angry.

Surrendering even one of her sisters to the Camarilla wasn’t an option, not when their only crime was growing into their powers too early.

Opposition raised, as the world tipped over the edge of another war.

Some countries sided with the Camarilla. Most clung to demands of peace or statuses of neutrality. A handful declared they would welcome any witch seeking shelter on their territory.

Tally lost track on which country was on whose side long ago.

It doesn’t matter.

They’re still at war, still being hunted.

Nothing changed.

Except for the tree Tally is glaring at.

One that was planted in memory of soldiers lost during the war.

She presses a hand to her chest when Anacostia’s lifeless features flash through her mind.

The tree-planting ceremony was beautiful - maybe the last moment of true peace Tally remembers, despite the ache that burnt in her heart - in its sobriety.

Petra Bellweather of all people insisted they picked an alder tree. Tally sometimes catches her staring at it, a far-away look in her eyes.

Fucking tree.

Tally kicks a pebble down the gentle slope of a hill and shifts her glare to the sky. “You’re not even here to help clean up your mess, Alder.” She pushes her palms into her eyes. “And I can’t hate you for it. I wish I could.”

“I missed you too, Craven.”

Tally startles when the words tear through the silence. She jumps, half-turning to find Sarah Alder leant against the tree, arms crossed and an amused spark dancing in her gaze.

Tally blinks, speechless.

“Tally?” Alders sobers up, head tilted in confusion.

“You’re here.” She whispers, her mouth dry. “How are you here?”

“You said my name.” Alder points out. “I heard, decided to check on you and I’m here.”

She looks around, allowing Tally a moment to gather herself. Despite the fog that lingers in the air, she recognizes the familiar buildings of Fort Salem, intrigued.

Why would Tally choose to settle on a military base after a war?

“Can you hear anytime someone says your name?” The younger woman prompts, clinging to the practicality of the situation. It keeps her mind off the emotions that bubble in her chest.

“No.” The corner of Alder’s lips twitch in a wry smile. “Only those I-“ She stops abruptly, redirecting her sentence.

Why would Tally care about the feelings of a dead woman?

“Those I listen for.”

“You were listening for me. Then where were you-” She pinches the bridge of her nose, reeling. “What were you doing? It’s been eight months!”

Alder’s eyebrows shoot up. “Has it?”

“Yes! And I was- It’s been-“ Tally stutters. “Where were you?”

“I was with the Mother, you already know that.” Alder reminds her, gentle. “Have you said my name in the last eight months?”

No.

Tally acknowledges quietly, as an acidic mix of guilt and grief churns in her stomach.

Since she jumped off the helicopter with Raelle and Abigail by her side, Tally has very deliberately ignored the pang of grief that vibrated through her, when she realized Alder was lost.

Three of her closest friends took off on that helicopter.

Only two returned.

Alder’s death wasn’t a reality Tally was ready to face.

It felt so different from the time they stood with Anacostia to send the former General’s body through the Mycelium. Her grief was swept away back then, buried under Nicte’s training and the hardships of life as a fugitive.

There’s no time to dwell on regrets, when an enemy could be hiding in every shadow.

Then the ground was pulled from under her feet - again - when Alder found her. She dragged her through a hunt for the First Song, and crawled deeper under Tally’s skin along the way.

Somewhere between an icy cave and an apology she still isn’t sure she deserved, her feelings grew deeper than the crush she used to have on her commanding officer. The remains of her connection to Alder flared back to life, leaving Tally powerless to resist the pull she felt for the other woman.

Not that she really wanted to.

But when Alder vanished from her life a second time, it carved a much deeper hole in Tally’s heart. She felt it through her bones, a haunting sort of ache that made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

“You’re allowed to move on from the past.” Alder speaks up, misinterpreting the silence. “I’m glad you have people to rely on.”

Tally shakes her head. She can reminisce about the impact of Alder’s absence later, preferably when the woman isn’t standing before her, making baseless assumptions.

“I don’t.” She denies, shoulders slumped.

“What about your sisters?” Alder steps closer. The dark shadows under Tally’s eyes stand out against the pale moonlight, a sight that deepens her concern.

“Where are they? Why are you alone?” She tries, struggling to fit the obvious exhaustion that weighs Tally down with the last time she saw her.

When Alder left the new stewards, she knew their lives wouldn’t be easy. Times of transitions are hard, and the Mother’s gift was a monumental change. Humanity had never faced a revolution of this magnitude before.

But Alder has faith in the Mother. She trusted Tally, Raelle and Abigail to provide the steady presence needed to steer their new sisters through the turmoil.

“Rae left for Mexico an hour ago, they need help. Their fixers are overwhelmed.” Tally responds, shrugging. “Abi is in Italy with Adil. Petra wants to build more bases in Europe.”

“What for?”

Tally looks up sharply. Her eyes dart between Alder’s frozen face and her dark yellow outfit.

The same clothes she was wearing in that helicopter.

She frowns.

Didn’t Alder know about-

Everything?

“How long has it been?” Tally asks, careful. “For you?”

“It’s hard to tell. Time passes differently with the Mother.” Alder’s speech slows, as she shifts her jaw. “What did I miss? Why is Petra recruiting more soldiers?”

Tally bites her lip. Despite her exhausted ramblings earlier, she doesn’t truly hold Alder responsible for the state of the world.

She was only executing the Mother’s plan, for once.

And if there’s one thing Tally knows about Sarah Alder, it’s that regardless of her questionable morals, the well-being of witches was always her priority. She dedicated her life to their protection.

“Tally?”

“There are people who don’t-” Tally hesitates.

How is she supposed to explain the slow collapse of a plan that was supposed to bring peace and healing to the world, to the woman who sacrificed so much to put it together?

“Some people don’t like the Mother’s gift. They want to go back to their old life, before they were witches.”

Alder nods, wary. “Of course. It’s not unexpected, but with time more of th-”

“Yes. Some of them are already getting used to it.” Tally shuffles her weight from one foot to the other, nervous.”But others are more angry, more scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of us.” Tally says, a flare of absurd remorse twisting in her stomach when the specks of purple in Alder’s eyes turn cloudy. “Imagine how they must feel. We turned them into witches without their consent. We changed their bodies.” She sighs. “They’re afraid we could control them in other ways.”

Alder clamps her mouth shut and ignores the burn at the back of her throat to focus on Tally’s explanation. “You’re not answering my question. Why is Petra expanding the army?”

“After the war, we thought-” Tally interrupts herself, her guilt growing stronger until her entire chest tightens. “The Camarilla disappeared. We thought they were gone. Can’t hunt witches if everyone is a witch, right?”

Tally exhales sharply. “We were wrong. They weren’t gone, they were hiding. They infiltrated governments, school boards, became officers in what used to be the civilian military.”

“It’s how they operate, why they’re so dangerous.”

“I know.” Tally snaps between gritted teeth. “We were so busy celebrating the end of the war that we missed it. I missed it.”

“It’s not your fault.” Alder tries, rattled by the quick fire of information.

Tally’s drifting gaze finds hers, gleaming under the moonlight. “How would you know? You weren’t there.”

Alder reluctantly concedes the point, nodding.

Tally steels herself. “The Camarilla returned. They use people’s fear and anger to turn them against us. They managed to start another war.”

“What?”

The broken whisper tugs at Tally’s heartstring, dragging her out of her own spiralling thoughts. When Alder lays a hand on the tree, vaguely looking like she’s about to be sick, she walks closer.

“Keep going.” The older woman asks, glaring at the damp soil under her boots. “Who’s at war?”

“The world.” Tally supplies, a hand hovering over Alder’s elbow. “The Camarilla are targeting anyone who had powers before the First Song. That’s how they call us, the First.” She laughs, humorless. “But since soldiers on both sides are witches, every battle is a bloodbath. Raelle is going to Mexico because a base near the border was raided yesterday.”

Alder scrubs a hand down her face, unsettled. The entire conversation feels like an endless free fall. “Isn’t anyone on our side?”

“Yes!” Tally hurries to clarify. “Of course. Millions of people are grateful to the Mother. Not everyone wants to fight in the war, but…” She vaguely points to the barracks. “We still have more recruits than we can handle.”

“It’s why Petra is building bases around the world.”

“Yes. The new recruits, they-“ Tally’s gaze turns distant. “Die very fast too.”

Alder’s forehead hits the tree with a quiet thump at the revelation. She freezes when the impact is muffled by Tally’s palm.

As sharp blue eyes track her own, Tally shrugs. “I get it. I thought the war was over too. I spend most of my days wanting to bash my head against a wall.” She musters a smile. “Doesn’t really help. It hurts, and Rae gives me a speech about brain injuries every time.”

Alder’s tense features soften. “Why aren’t you with her? You shouldn’t stay alone.”

Tally takes her hand back, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny.

Even in death, the former General has lost nothing of her signature intensity.

“She’ll probably end up on the front lines, at some point.”

The Camarilla rarely kept to a single raid, once they targeted a region. Army bases nearby had been told to prepare for battle.

“We take turns with frontline deployments.” Tally admits, huffing. “If they need healing, Raelle goes. Abigail travels when we need firepower, and I go if we have incomplete intel about an attack. Whenever we show up together, everyone knows it’s a major operation.”

Tally holds her breath, concerned. Would Alder - who lived from war to war for centuries - deem their arrangement weak? She scowls at the ground.

“Why?”

The genuine curiosity draws Tally’s eyes up. She sucks a relieved breath through her teeth, finding no judgement on the other woman’s face.

“Because for a while-“ Tally runs her tongue behind her teeth, when her mouth goes dry under the weight of flashbacks. “It felt like we were spending our whole lives on a battlefield. I couldn’t shake off the smell of blood, I was haunted by nightmares.”

“It’s easier now.” She continues. “Fighting a war is hard, but we can help each other better if we’re not dealing with the same flashbacks. We have a home here. Abigail has Adil, Raelle has Scylla. It’s easier.”

Alder frowns. “What about you?

“What?”

“Don’t you have anyone?”

When Tally shakes her head, Alder’s frown deepens. “I thought you-“ She sifts through the foggy memories of her last day with the Bellweather unit. “Wasn’t there a boy with you?”

“Gregorio.” Tally sighs, one hand running through her hair. “It didn’t last very long. I was lonely, he was there. We thought it could be more, but...” She shrugs. “It was a mistake.”

Alder schools her features in a neutral expression, despite the spark of satisfaction shining through her voice. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We’re still friends.” Tally insists. “He’s… Nice.”

“Nice.” Alder tilts her head, puzzled. “Is that a compliment?”

Tally groans, covering her face with her hands. “Not you too.”

The amount of teasing comments she overheard once the news of her breakup with Gregorio spread through the base is still a source of embarrassment.

Even Petra Bellweather had mumbled something in her glass of wine, the first time Tally arrived on her own to a military function.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” She admits, arms thrown in the air. “I was spending too much time around two married couples, it messed with my head. But it’s not my fault if you kept leav-”

Tally clicks her jaw shut when her brain catches up with her mouth.

“I wasn’t aware keeping you from obvious mistakes was my duty, Private Craven.” Alder quips, the hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Captain.” Tally corrects reflexively.

“Really?”

Tally shrugs, rubbing at the back of her neck. She didn’t mean to share that particular piece of information - her new uniform doesn’t quite fit, with its colorful patches and the single medal hung on her chest - but the joyful pride shining in Alder’s gaze warms her heart.

There was a time when she used to dream about Alder giving her a similar look, in entirely different circumstances.

Until her dreams took a much darker turn.

Tally sighs, shaking off the tangible weight of memory.

Which brings her back to the conversation.

“Gregorio tried so hard to understand.” Tally recalls, wistful. “He listened to me. I know he wanted to help.”

Impatient, Tally ignores her lingering guilt over the brief relationship. “He couldn’t. He never went on the run after being accused of murder, or faced the Council of the Great River, or sacrificed his powers to track down the First song. I had to explain everything to him, it was so-” She pauses, rubbing her temples.

“Frustrating. It was like we were speaking different languages all the time.” Tally complains, arms crossed behind her back. “He said he was proud I was a steward once.”

Alder winces, quietly watching Tally pace in front of her.

“Proud. As if being responsible for the fate of the entire world is something to be proud of.” She slows her frantic movements, reminded of the conversation that triggered their breakup. “We had a ceremony on base, for the fallen soldiers. Afterwards Gregorio asked me why Anacostia saved him and the others, he said she didn’t even know him that well.

Alder shifts her jaw, focused on the Mother’s caring presence in her heart. “Because she could.” She says, with a pained smile.

“I know.” Tally agrees, meeting Alder’s eyes in quiet understanding. “Have you seen her? You’re both in the Mycelium, yeah?”

“It’s different for me.” She brushes the question away, her voice raw. “I don’t see other people like that.”

“Oh.” Tally frowns, taken aback. “What do you see?”

“Not much. I hear things, voices. There’s a light sometimes. I feel the Mother in my head, but she isn’t really with me. She’s not a person I can talk to.”

“I’m sorry.” Tally cocks her head. “It sounds lonely.”

Alder shrugs, her thoughts drifting to the wind that whistles between the branches of the tree. It feels good to be out of whichever liminal space she’s confined in since the end of the war.

She looks up at the cloudy sky.

Her new home is peaceful, and she isn’t unhappy. How could she be, with such an intimate connection to the Mother?

“I’m used to it.” Alder says, once it becomes obvious Tally is waiting for a response. “But you shouldn’t be alone. I know that boy didn’t understand, but surely someone else wo-“

“Who?” Tally laughs, bitter. “Tell me.”

Surprised by the outburst, Alder frowns.

“You said it yourself. They think we’re Goddesses.” Tally adds. “We’re supposed to guide billions of people.”

Nervous fingers run through wild red hair. “But the world is on fire. Half of them desperately want our help. They want to understand their new powers.”

“But the other half…” Tally continues, her voice shaky. “They want to hunt us so badly, they started another war. So tell me, who can understand that kind of responsibility?”

When Alder stays silent, Tally answers her own question. “Nobody. Scylla and Adil were with us every step of the way, and they would lay down their lives to help Raelle and Abigail. But even them…”

“They don’t get it, not really.” Tally deflates, shoulders dropping. “What chance do I have? I had no one.”

“You had Nicte.” The older woman suggests weakly, avoiding the obvious response that looms over both of their heads.

Alder was at Tally’s side in their impossible quest to retrieve the First song. She’s the one who saved her life on multiple occasions, who explained the Mother’s decision to name the Bellweather unit stewards in the end.

And besides their shared adventures… Alder understands.

The sentiment behind Tally’s words echoes in her chest, achingly familiar. It’s the same emotion that used to rule her life, back when she was the General of the army.

She remembers witch hunts, trials, the screams of her burning sisters.

Years spent wandering the world, with the knowledge that no place would ever be safe for people like her.

A rash decision to build that safe place.

The birth of Fort Salem.

She understands everything.

But Alder is dead.

“Nicte is back with the Spree.” Tally informs her, a dubious eyebrow hitched high on her forehead. “And I think the only thing she’d hate more than helping me be a steward is you.”

Alder tilts her head back, barely listening. She glares at the pale stars looking down on her.

There’s no stars with the Mother.

Alder’s eyes flicker through the littered sky, a taunting reminder of her death. She comes to a decision somewhere between the moon and a particularly shiny constellation.

She once lost herself trying to carry the burden described by Tally.

Enough.

She refuses to let Tally Craven lose sight of who she is.

“I’m about to ask something from you.” Alder warns, her voice distant.

Tally looks back at her, caught between suspicion and a tempting sense of familiarity.

She can’t remember the last time Alder hasn’t asked something from her. “What?”

“Will you help me?“ Alder murmurs, the words quietened by their mutual past.

She has asked so much of Tally already.

“For the last time, I prom-“

“Yes.”

Tally realizes she should demand more information before offering a blind agreement. Alder’s latest misguided decision to follow the Mother’s plan backfired, in a spectacular way.

And well, her sense of morality is dubious at best.

Twisted at worst.

But after eight months of drifting alone between moments when she allows herself to cling to her sisters, Tally feels grounded.

The steady blue eyes facing her become an anchor, a sign that maybe she can let someone else make a decision.

Just this once.

“The Mycelium.” Alder keeps her voice low, touched by Tally’s eagerness.

It’s not trust, not exactly. There are doubts lingering in her eyes.

But after everything that happened between them…

Whatever emotion fueled Tally’s decision feels as meaningful as trust.

Alder clears her throat. “Is it still in the Necro tomb?”

The question brightens Tally’s somber mood. “Of course. How would we even move it?” She wonders, amused.

“No idea.” Alder shrugs, distracted. “I need to get there, but I don’t know if the patrol routes are st-“

“You don’t want anyone to see you.” She realizes. “General Bellweather changes the routes every week. I’ll help, come on.”

Without thinking, Tally takes the lead. She steps around the tree, but misses a branch hanging low under the cover of darkness. When she fails to dodge it, she goes stumbling to the side.

Alder catches her reflexively, one hand around her waist and the other hovering awkwardly in the air. She freezes, Tally’s back against her chest.

“Thanks.” Tally offers, voice rough and fingertips lingering against Alder’s wrist after she pats the limb gratefully.

“Welcome.” The older woman whispers, longing for a few more seconds of contact.

Tally is so warm.

She can’t remember the last time she has felt anything but cold.

Tally looks over her shoulder, surprised by the pain etched on Alder’s features. It’s enough to convince her to break the moment. “Are you okay?” She asks, louder.

“Yes.” The words snap her out of her head. “Of course.”

Alder clears her throat, forcing a smile as she steps back. “I’m wondering if you really have your Sight back. One would think you’d be more aware of your surroundings.”

Tally hums, unconvinced. While she knows any further question would go ignored, she yearns for a chance to ask about the rare glimpse of vulnerability.

Coaxing answers out of Alder is a lengthy process, one Tally has grown more familiar with.

If only she had more time.

She swallows, eyes glued to the shadow of a familiar building in front of her.

It has always been their problem, hasn’t it? Their time runs out, and one of them is dragged away to deal with some life-threatening emergency.

Tally wishes it had been different.

The door opens with a faint creak, leading the way to the interior of the necro tomb.

When Tally steps into the small square room where the Mycelium lays, a shiver runs up her spine.

Haunted by memories of the last time she stood in the very same spot, Tally doesn’t register Alder’s movement until she’s staring at the murky wall from up close, hands folded behind her back.

“What are you doing?” She asks, harsher than she intended.

Alder looks back. “I’m going in.”

“You what now?”

“I need to speak with the Mother.” Alder justifies. “I’ll onl-“

“No.” Tally interrupts, her arms crossed tightly around her torso. “Absolutely not.” She charges forward, slipping her palm against Alder’s to tug her away. “Get away from that stupid wall.”

Blue eyes slip down to their hands, stunned.

Hesitant, Tally starts to loosen her grip - it’s safe, now that Alder doesn’t look like she’s about to tip over the boundary - when cold fingers tangle with her own.

Her thoughts stutter.

“I have to do it.” Alder sighs.

“You’re part mushroom.” Tally argues instinctively. “Why can’t you talk to her without going in there again?”

Again.

The word echoes in Alder’s brain, a cruel reminder of her situation. She lets go of Tally’s hand, rubbing her own together.

“I’m dead.” She deliberately ignores the way the younger woman recoils on herself. “We can spend time chatting until the Mother decides I have to go, or I can go through that wall and try to find a way to help you.”

“You hate small talk.” Tally swallows when the random piece of information flashes through her mind. Even though the remains of her time as a Biddy grows fainter every day…

She’s sometimes hit by a random memory, a fact she shouldn’t have known, or a smell she thought forgotten.

“I do.” Alder nods, frowning. “But it’s your choice.”

“Really?” Tally’s eyes grow wide.

Life with Alder is like being caught in a tornado, dashing from one world-saving plan to the other. She loved every minute of that life.

But it left very little space for choices.

“Yes.” Alder says. The time when she pushed Tally to follow a plan she didn’t understand herself is done. “You don’t need my help. You could fix the world with your sisters. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

Tally pushes her hair out of her eyes. Alder is right, she knows. They could - probably - stop the war on their own.

But she has seen enough to know every day counts. Every battle that doesn’t happen saves dozens of lives.

No matter how long she spent missing Alder, how she would give up anything for just another mission with her, Tally’s feelings don’t trump the lives of her sisters.

“I wish you’d stop disappearing on me.” She shoves her trembling hands in the front pocket of her well worn hoodie.

Alder sets her jaw, reading Tally’s decision in her darkened gaze, in the resigned slump of her shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” She assures, making her way back to the wall.

“Me too.”

Tally inhales sharply. She forces her drifting thoughts back to more practical matters. “You’ll come back, right? I need to know what the Mother has to say.”

“I will.” Alder goes still, as she fights the urge to cross the room back to Tally. “I don’t know how long I'll be gone. I’ll find y-“

“No, I’ll wait here.” Tally settles in a corner of the narrow space, sat on the ground and legs stretched in front of her, crossed at the ankle. “Don’t take too long. I have appointments in the morning.”

Alder tilts her head, surprised. “You can’t stay h-“

“I said I’ll wait.” She shuts down the protest. “You can go now.”

Alder purses her lips to fight a smile. “Are you sure they haven’t made you General?”

Tally laughs. “They offered, but I’m too busy being a Goddess.” She bites her lip when Alder grins back, heart slamming against her ribs.

That smile.

Tally has only seen it a handful of times, but every single one is carved deep in her memory.

“Go.” She repeats, despite the breathlessness in her tone. “And come back.”

“I will.”

Tally closes her eyes before Alder walks through the wall. The heavy silence of the necro tomb swells, slowly filling the space around her.

“Tally?”

At the sound of her name, she startles awake, arms flying in the vague direction of the voice.

“Sorry!” The intruder apologizes, meeting her friend’s sleep-filled eyes. “It’s me.”

“What-” Fighting through the lethargic fog that clings to her thoughts, Tally finds Scylla standing over her. “Why are you here?”

“Me?” The dark-haired woman points to herself, exasperated. “What are you doing here? You missed all your morning appointments, half the base is looking for you.”

“Morning.” Tally repeats, her voice hoarse. “What time is it?”

“Past noon.” Scylla informs her.

When her friend’s exhausted features and tousled hair registers through her worried state of mind, Scylla leans against the opposite wall. She sits on the ground. “What happened to you? Why are you napping in the middle of the Necro tomb?”

Tally stays silent, warily eyeing the wall that houses the Mycelium.

“Did you have something to say to the Mother?” Scylla hits her boots against Tally’s to grab her attention. “We’ve all been there, I think. She messed things up, yeah?”

Tally throws her head back against the wall. “It’s not why I’m here.”

“Why then?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Great.” Scylla keeps her voice light. “Petra Bellweather called Rae when they realized you were missing. I offered to help, but she’s been babbling about the perks of War College for two hours now. I could use a distraction.”

Tally snickers. “Don’t you want to join the army?”

“No, thank you.” Scylla rolls her eyes. “I still don’t know how I lasted that long in training. I hate this place.”

“Is that why you won’t move in with us?” Tally asks, tugging the edge of her sleeves over her hands.

Was this room always so cold?

“You know I can’t leave Edwin alone. He’d burn down his own house.” Scylla dodges the question.

“No, he wouldn’t. He doesn’t need you anymore.” Tally calls out, unimpressed.

Edwin Collar’s slow acclimation to his new powers had been painful to watch - literally, the man suffered second degree burns when he practiced water works in a sink too close to a pot of boiling water - until Scylla volunteered to help him.

After she moved into his house, any long term plans had been deferred until Edwin stopped being a safety hazard. Raelle drops by as often as she can, but Tally knows the constant back-and-forth between the Cession and Fort Salem is wearing on her.

“I know.” Scylla admits quietly. “I’m thinking about it.”

“About what?”

Scylla keeps quiet, her eyes roaming the room. “It’d be easier for Rae if we lived here. But part of me is still hung up on-”

She shakes her head.

Talking with Tally is surprisingly easy, but that’s a discussion she owes to her wife first. “You’re right, Edwin doesn’t need my help anymore. I’m not sure what we’ll do next.”

Tally accepts the answer, nodding. While she’s worried about her sister, she trusts Scylla to take care of Raelle.

The woman has more than proven herself.

“Would you even have room for us?” Scylla wonders, playful. “I know Bellweather wanted to turn your basement into a training space.”

Tally groans. “She did. Adil refuses to use any of the base equipment, so we have our own training center underground. They’re obsessed with it. I think Abi is trying to find a way to recreate past battles with the Camarilla. She wants to learn their tactics.”

Scylla blinks. “Sounds intense.”

“It is.” Tally shifts to tap her boots. “There’s always room for you in that house. You’re Rae’s wife and you’re my friend.” She pauses, smiling. “I need more reasonable people around to outnumber Abigail.”

Scylla snorts. “She’d love that.”

“We’ll figure something out, whenever you’re ready. Talk to Raelle.”

“I will. I’ll travel with her more often, now that Edwin can handle himself. I know all the fighting has been hard.”

Tally’s shoulders slump. “Yeah. We were supposed to be done with the war, right?”

Scylla frowns. “I don’t know. Are you really that surprised?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… We’re all humans. We’re stupid, and emotional and we’ll find the smallest reasons to hate each other. You can’t use force to make that go away. It just brings up more problems.” She says, as her eyes turn distant. “The draft created the Spree. The First Song made the Camarilla stronger and turned more people against us.”

Tally stares, open-mouthed. Before she can gather her thoughts, a voice calls out from the end of the hallway.

“Tally!”

Scylla leans forwards. She glances through the door and wriggles her fingers in greetings when she spots a sprinting Raelle. “Hi. I missed you too.” She chuckles, as her wife ignores her and slides to the floor, dragging Tally in an awkward hug.

She meets Scylla’s eyes over Ralle’s shoulder, confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Mexico?”

“I came back, you disappeared!” The blonde pulls back to scowl at her. “What were you thinking? Where did you go? Why are we…”

Raelle’s voice turns incredulous when she recognizes the room. “You’ve been hiding in the necro tomb.”

Sheepish, Tally scratches her chin. “It’s a long story.”

“I was about to know more, but someone interrupted us.” Scylla quips, her lips twitching in a grin when Raelle shifts to face her. “Hi.”

Raelle smiles back, before she shuffles to sit next to her wife and leans into her side. “I only interrupted because you found Tally and you didn’t call me.”

“We were talking. I was distracted.”

“You’re alw-”

“Before you start bickering…” Tally interjects, well-aware of how long her friends’ playful arguments can last. “I think you’ll want to know why I’m here.”

When Raelle and Scylla nod together, Tally barely keeps herself from rolling her eyes.

She really needs friends who aren’t part of a married couple.

Tally shakes off the thought, pulling herself together. “I found Alder.”

“Alder, as in Sarah Alder?” Raelle asks, blinking.

“She’s dead.” Scylla offers, confused.

Tally chews on her bottom lip. Her choice of conversation might have been too blunt.

Too late now.

“Do we know anyone else named Alder?” She addresses Raelle’s question first, who shrugs in response. “I thought she was dead too. But I couldn’t sleep tonight. I went on a walk, and she was there.”

“Okay.” Raelle nods slowly, as Scylla ponders the explanation. “What did she say? Did she want something?”

“I told her what happened over the last eight months.” Tally grimaces. “Or the gist of it. She said she needed to talk to the Mother about it. That’s why we came here.”

“What did she say?” Raelle wonders, curious.

“The Mother?” Another nod. “I don’t know. I’m not in there, am I?”

“In th-'' Raelle echoes, open-mouthed. “Do you mean Alder crossed that wall again?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Scylla speaks up, surprised. “She’s a mushroom person, yeah?”

“Yes.” Tally agrees. “I don’t think they can have conversations through their connection.”

“What did Alder want to tell her? Doesn’t the Mother know what’s going on already?”

“Alder had no idea. I’m not sure how much the Mother can see.” Tally says, sighing.

“And you didn’t ask.” She frowns. “Why not?”

“Because I was a little overwhelmed, Rae.” Tally snaps, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Alder doesn’t usually answer my questions anyway.” She drops her head back against the wall. “She said she’ll be back. You can ask her yourself.”

Raelle softens at the abrupt reminder of how hard Tally took Alder’s loss. For months, she watched her extroverted sister withdraw from her found family. The sting of rejection any time she tried to coax her out of her shell still haunts her.

Unhappy, Raelle sighs. Tally is barely starting to sound like her old self. What if her encounter with Alder triggers another setback?

“Did she say when she’ll come back? How long are you going to wait here?”

“As long as I have to.” The red-haired woman says sharply. She takes a deep breath, as Raelle raises a calming hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. How are you feeling, Tal?”

“I’m fine.” She squirms under Raelle’s attentive gaze. “I am. You don’t have to worry ab-”

“Okay, that’s weird.” Scylla whispers, wide-eyed.

“About me.”

“I think I do.” Raelle disagrees, concerned. “You stopped talking to us, for months. I don’t want to go back to that.”

Tally shrugs. “There’s a war going on. We have so much to deal with, there’s no time to sit around and talk about our feelings.”

“Of course there’s time.” Raelle argues in earnest. “We’re in this togeth-”

“Are you okay?”

Tally’s frustration spikes at the repeated question. “I’m fine, Scylla.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling good, but I was not talking to you.” She clarifies, bewildered.

Tally and Raelle freeze. As they both follow Scylla’s gaze, they find Alder leaning against a wall, panting.

Alder turns away from Tally, squares her shoulders, closes her eyes and takes a step through the wall.

The fresh image of the younger woman’s concern lingers in her head, as her eyelids flutter.

Alder blinks at the mirror version of herself that stares back at her. “Don’t think I’m ever getting used to this.” She flinches, before raising her voice. “Hello, Mother.”

A quiet gaze shining with tears meets hers in wordless reply.

“You know what’s happening in the world.” Alder states, a similar bone-deep wariness running through her body. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“It was my plan, Sarah.” The Mother shakes her head. “It’s my mistake.”

“And I created you.” She argues, mustering a sad smile. “We made a mistake.”

“I don’t understand. Our powers, the way we see the world, how we feel it… It’s a gift, Daughter. How can it cause so much pain?”

“They don’t understand.” Alder argues, thinking back on Tally’s account. “The unknown can be scary, and fear often turns into pain.” She pauses to gather fragmented ideas together. “I could show them there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The Mother tilts her head, a hint of surprise flashing through her eyes. “You want to help.”

“Yes. I lived through a similar time, back when the world realized witches were everywhere. I remember when they decided to hunt us.” Alder reminds her. “Your new stewards will learn how to handle that sort of hatred, but they’re young. We put so much on their shoulders.”

“Too much.” The Mother whispers. “I never meant for my gift to become a burden.”

“I know.” Alder nods. “Let me stay for a while. It’s a transition, dark times won’t last forever. I’ll help them weather the storm.”

“Why?” She probes, curious. “The stewards aren’t your responsibility.”

Alder hesitates. “They’re in pain too.”

The Mother closes the gap between them. As silence stretches, she takes in the nerves fluttering in Alder’s gaze, the way her hands are neatly folded behind her back.

A reflex from another time.

“You care for them.” She whispers, surprised to see her daughter so rattled.

“Yes.” Alder says sharply, refusing to meet the piercing eyes inspecting her. “They’re the next generation of stewards. Of course I care.”

“No.” The Mother’s voice turns distant. “It’s personal. You care for one of them.”

Alder sucks a breath through her teeth, unbalanced. She wrestles with the chaos of her own emotions - some she never acknowledged to herself - and looks up. “I do. Tally is alone, it…” She trails off, shaky.

“Breaks your heart.” The Mother supplies, taking a step back.

“Yes.”

“How unexpected.” She whispers. “How long has it been since you grew attached to someone in that way?”

“A long time.” Alder avoids the question. “It doesn’t matter, that’s not why I want to go back.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I want to help all of them settle in their new life. I can’t stay with Tally, my time is over.” Alder assures, despite the bitter aftertaste the words leave in her mouth. “All I have left is what I borrow from y-”

“Yes.” The Mother nods, a glimpse of warmth shining through her voice. “That’s why I won’t let you stay.”

“Please.” Alder flinches. She isn’t used to the helplessness clawing in her chest. “I ca-”

“Quiet, Daughter.” She interrupts, arms raised. “Close your eyes.”

Alder complies, desperate for a chance to plead her case. When a pull deep in her stomach tugs her down, the ground slips from under her feet.

She gasps, heart in her throat and a violent heat simmering under her skin.

As her fingers blindly search for any tangible grip, the fall stops as suddenly as it started.

“I’m sorry. The transition isn’t gentle.” The Mother sounds further away, like she’s floating over her. “Keep breathing.”

Alder does. She tunes down the analytical side of her brain and narrows her focus to the sensation of her lungs expanding with each intake of breath.

The pain recedes.

Alder grows more aware of her own body, as she calms. She feels stiff, weighted down by a force that squeezes her limbs, her torso.

“Wha-” The question turns into a coughing fit, when the back of her throat aches. She swallows a few times and tries again. “Is happening to me?”

“Open your eyes.”

Alder blinks.

She’s laying on her back, the Mother standing on her left side. An unpleasant sensation of cold that seeps through her clothes filters in her mind, eased by the purple sky stretched over her head.

She shivers despite the familiar landscape.

The Mother kneels at her side, drawing Alder’s attention. She looks down and catches a flash of dark blue on her own shoulders.

She goes still, fingers clenched in the muddy soil.

When Alder gathers the courage to look down at herself, her breath catches in her throat. She’s wearing a distinctive military uniform.

“What did you do?” She whispers, begging for a verbal confirmation of her suspicions.

“I’m not letting you stay, Sarah.” The Mother says. The calm of her voice offers a sharp contrast to Alder’s near panic. “I’m sending you back.”

The former General runs a hand down her face, reeling. The shocking warmth of her own skin brings a new meaning to the Mother’s words. “I don’t think I understand.”

“You were dead.” She tries again, simpler. “Now you’re not.”

“You can’t do that.” The protest slips from Alder’s lips, as she hides her face against her palm.

Eyes shut tightly, she fights against a sudden wave of exhaustion threatening to drown her. It’s like her world has been tipped off-balance, - again - and there’s nothing Alder hates more than feeling out-of-control.

“You’re right.” The Mother relents. “I can bring my children back to life, not usually. They become part of me, once their bodies cross over.”

“Then how d-”

“I could never absorb you. That’s why I could send you to fulfill my plan, why you couldn’t join your sisters even after it was completed.”

“Why not?”

“You know the witchplague is sentient enough to fight against me. Well, the parasite doesn’t stop fighting after death.” The Mother sighs. “It’s never been a problem before. I’ve absorbed thousands of witches who died from its evil.”

She raises a hand, stopping Alder before she can interrupt. “Problems start when someone decides to spare seven of her sisters the pain of death. I know you were trying to help the Biddies, but the parasite traveled through their links with you.”

“When they sent you to me…I didn’t know it was possible to reach such a high level of infection. I didn’t want to leave you alone, so I kept you here.” The Mother shakes her head, torn between affection and compassion. “But I had no idea how to have you join us without risking the lives of your sisters who live inside me.”

“You could have healed me.” Alder reminds her, heart racing. “Why didn’t you do it earl-”

“It never occurred to me that you might want to go back. I thought you’d want to be with us, to see your loved ones again.” She lowers her voice. “You deserve to rest. I thought you could find peace through death, but… Maybe all you need is another chance at life.”

“How did you do it?” Alder asks, as a mess of questions zip through her head. “Do I still have to worry about the witchplague? Do I need biddies again?”

The Mother points to a pile of dust at her feet. “This is what remains of the witchplague. It won’t bother you again. Biddies…” She hums, meeting Alder’s eyes. “You won’t need them if you accept my offer.”

Alder raises to her elbows. “What is it?”

“You wanted to help the new generation of my stewards. You could join them.”

“Sorry?” She looks at the Mother, slack-jawed. “You want me t-”

“Become the fourth steward. Let your wisdom guide my new children, protect them from ignorance.” The Mother pleads, sobering up. “Stand with them if - when - their own siblings try to hurt them.”

“That’s a lot to-” Alder’s voice cracks, as her mouth runs dry.

The Mother softens. “Yes. But you don’t have to carry that burden alone anymore. Rely on your sisters.”

Alder tilts her head back to stare at the dark purple clouds gathered over their heads. She takes in the sense of absolute peace that floats in the atmosphere one last time and pushes herself up, slowly finding her footings.

The uniform feels tight around her. She runs nervous fingers through her hair, surprised to touch neat braids, as she wriggles her toes in her boots.

Goddess, she missed being alive.

Alder breathes in, fresh air coursing through her torso like a cold drink in the depth of summer.

“I’d expect you to feel untethered for a while. You’re the first person to come back from death.” The Mother speaks up. “It won’t be easy. Don’t make it worse by trying to fix everything in one day.”

“Rely on others. You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders anymore.” She adds, catching the faint shadow that crosses Alder’s eyes.

She nods, unable to shake the restless energy running through her body. “Now what?”

“The wall you came through is behind you. Walk the opposite way when you’re ready.”

Alder looks over her shoulder to find a well-known fog of colors. When she turns back, the Mother has a similar blurry edge to her appearance. “I’m ready. I don’t know how to thank y-”

“Live, Sarah.” Her eyes flash bright purple. “It’s all you have to do. You didn’t have much of a chance the first time.”

“Will I see you again?” She breathes out, hesitant.

“When your time comes again. You’re a steward now, it’ll take a few centuries” The Mother responds, gently. “I won’t be able to help you. The world is changing. I fear there are many things I don’t understand anymore.”

“I’ll miss you.” Alder blinks, watching her body fade.

“I’ll be with you.” The Mother swears, before she vanishes into the sky. “Always.”

Alder stares into the distance until her vision turns blurry. Clearing her throat, she shakes herself out of her head and takes a step forward.

Back to her life.

Time stops.

Tally, Raelle and Scylla blink at Alder who’s staring at her own fingers, dazed.

Springing to her feet, Tally tries to dash forward. Raelle’s tight grip on her hoodie stops her, while the blonde slowly pulls herself to her feet. “Wait.” She whispers.

“Wait for what?”

“She looks like she’s about to pass out.” Raelle continues in the same tone. “And I doubt she was wearing her uniform when you saw her earlier. We need to know what happened in the Mycelium, before you rush in.”

“Yes.” Tally agrees, fighting with Raelle’s grip. “I’ll be gentle, let m-”

“No.” She refuses, unwavering. “Alder might be hurt. I’m going to her first.”

Tally wandering so close to the Mycelium before they have a grasp on the situation is her main worry, but Raelle knows self-preservation won’t stop her sister.

“Fine.” She grumbles. “You’re the Fixer. Do your thing.”

“Two minutes.” Raelle says with a faint smile. “I’ll check if she needs healing, and I’ll be back.”

“Be careful.” Scylla chimes in, arms crossed.

“I’m always careful.” She teases, a hand lingering around her wife’s shoulders as she pushes her closer to Tally.

Raelle slows her steps and raises her hands, trying to make herself as non-threatening as she can, before calling out.

“Alder.”

Dark blue eyes snap in her direction. She stops moving when a flash of confusion crosses Alder’s features. There’s a distinctive glassy sheen in her pupils, a shadow Raelle has learnt to associate with brain trauma.

“Do you know who I am?” She asks, one boot hovering over the tiled floor.

Alder matches the movement, shuffling backward until her knees wobble under her weight. She scowls at her own feet.

“How about we sit before you faint?” Raelle suggests. She points to the nearest wall, ready to intervene if the other woman moves too close to the Mycelium that shines behind her.

A few seconds tick by in strained silence, before Alder’s spine hits the wall. She lets her weight rest against it and slowly drops to the ground.

Ralle moves to her knees in front of her. “I want to check if you need healing, okay?” She warns, sticking a hand out.

“Stop screaming.” Alder murmurs, eyes narrowed.

“I promise I won’t scream.” Raelle agrees easily.

She learnt long ago that arguing with an injured sister is a waste of energy. Instead, she hums in the back of her throat and focuses on the familiar heat that travels to the tip of her fingers.

She frowns.

Nothing.

Alder isn’t hurt.

Confused, Raelle chews on her bottom lip. There might not be any physical injury to be found, but something isn’t quite right. She makes another check, taking a closer look at Alder’s pupils.

Her heart jumps in her throat.

They’re blue.

Fully blue, without a trace of the purple specks that used to litter them, after Alder came back from the Mycelium.

“Are you done, Collar?” She squirms, batting away the hand that pushes against her collarbone.

Raelle shifts back to sit on her heels, relieved. “You know who I am.”

“It took a while.” Alder admits, her throat scratchy. She raises her legs, wraps both arms around her knees and drops her head, dizzy.

When did the room start spinning?

Raelle takes a few steps back, offering the space Alder clearly craves. She turns to face Tally who’s now clinging to Scylla’s arm.

“How’s she?”

Raelle considers the question, torn. “Physically fine. There’s nothing to fix.”

“But?” Tally prompts.

“But I can’t feel her connection to the Mycelium.”

“Really?” Scylla asks. “Is she not a mushroom person anymore?”

As Raelle shakes her head, Tally wrestles down an inconvenient flare of hope in her heart.

Not yet.

“What does it mean?” She presses. “Is she like us again? Is she alive?”

“I think so.”

“Then what’s wrong with her?” Scylla wonders, looking over Raelle’s shoulder to see the woman still huddled on the floor, face buried in her hands.

“I have no idea. I think maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

Raelle gives Tally a tight smile. “I assume the loss of the Mycelium is making her like that.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Tally protests, a hint of impatience in her voice. “It didn’t happen to you, after you-” She interrupts herself, catching a silent exchange as Raelle glances at her wife. “What?”

“It kind of did.” Raelle shuffles in place, scoffing the ground with the tip of her boot. “It didn’t happen right away, and I never looked that bad, but…”

Tally stares at her, open-mouthed. “What? What happened to you, to Alder?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s a different sort of-” Raelle trails off, sighing. “Can you imagine how it feels to be connected to someone?”

Tally swallows, resolutely keeping her thoughts away from her brief time as a Biddy. “Yes.”

“You think of that connection as a way to communicate with them, right? Or maybe you can feel their presence, or their emotions.”

Tally nods.

“The Mother doesn’t work like that. I never talked with her, I was part of her. I didn’t have to make any decision, I knew what I had to do. She didn’t have to tell me.” Raelle frowns to herself. “I’m not sure Alder ever realized why she was looking for the First Song, not consciously.”

Scylla scuffs to herself. “Pushy mushroom.”

Raelle snickers. “I guess, yeah.”

“I think I get it.” Tally murmurs, head tilted. “What happens when someone loses that connection? How does it feel?”

“It’s painful. I said I was part of the Mother, but she was part of me too. A part I lost.” Raelle reaches for her sister’s hands. “Alder is alive, but I’m not sure all of her made it back.”

“Can we do something?” Tally goes still, suddenly split between heartache and the urge to help. “You said it happened to you, what…” She frowns. “You’re fine now, right?”

“Yeah. I had nightmares, sleeping was hard for a while. Scyl helped. Spending time with you or Abs made me feel better too, but I don’t know…” She frowns. “Connecting with people I care about is what really helped. I don’t know if Alder has someone like that, someone who’s still alive.”

“Can I try?”

“Maybe?” She raises a surprised eyebrow. “But you need to prepare yourself. She didn’t know who I was at first, she might not recognize you. I’m guessing her memories are all over the place.”

“Who knew coming back to life was a shock?” Scylla quips, raising her hands in surrender when Raelle stares at her.

“I don’t care, Rae.” Tally shakes her head. “We have to do something. I can introduce myself, if she forgot me.” Her stomach twists at the idea, filled with dread.

“We do.” Raelle agrees, scratching the back of her neck. She feels an unexpected kinship with Alder’s pain, fueled by something more than sympathy for Tally’s complicated relationship with the woman.

“Come on then.” She decides, dragging her sister along. “Stay behind me. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

Tally nods, wary. She stands to the side when Raelle kneels in front of Alder, gently brushing her knees.

The older woman jumps.

“Sorry!” Raelle apologizes, shuffling back. “It’s just me.”

Alder nods, breathless, and tips her head to rest against the wall.

“I know you’re hurting.” She continues, mindful of the volume of her voice. “And I’m not sure how to help you, but…”

Raelle slips a hand behind her back, motioning Tally closer.

Fingers wrung together - because somehow her usual impulse to offer comfort through touch doesn’t seem like a good idea - Tally kneels at Raelle’s side. She approaches with slow movements despite the nervous energy that thrums under her skin.

“Hi.” She whispers, watching dark blue eyes narrow in her direction. “We want to h-“

Alder looks up. “Tally?”

“Yeah.” She sputters, surprised. “Yes. Hi.”

The reality of her situation hits Tally, as their gazes lock. She’s kneeling in the middle of the Necro tomb, clad in her sleeping clothes among a group of women wearing military uniforms, with an absurd grin on her lips.

Goddess, she must look like an idiot.

None of it matters, when a hand clutches the sleeve of her hoodie and yanks her forward.

Tally barely has time to understand what’s happening, as she finds herself sitting on cold tiles, her back to Alder’s chest and two arms squeezed tight around her shoulders. She grabs onto the wrists crossed over her collarbone and shivers when a cold nose digs against the side of her neck.

It’s a sharp contrast to Ralle’s curious stare that’s heating up the side of her face.

She doesn’t care.

“I just remembered.” Raelle snaps her fingers and backs away. “We have to go.”

“Go where?” Scylla frowns. “Everyone thinks you’re in Mexi-“ She yelps. “Don’t hit me with your bony elbow, it hurts!”

“Good.” Raelle says, pulling her wife out of the room. “Let’s find you a Fixer.”

“You’re a Fixer.”

“Exactly.” Raelle smirks. “And I’m leaving, you might want to come with me.”

“Yeah?” Scylla slings an arm low on her waist. “Will you kiss it better?”

Raelle snorts, unimpressed. “I’m surprised it took you so long to make that joke.”

“Will you?”

“Maybe.”

Tally sighs, as their banter grows distant.

“Are they always like that?”

Startled by the question, she looks to the side to find Alder staring back at her. “They’re worse, usually.” A raspy chuckle eases the whirlwind of anxiety in her stomach. She ignores the blush darkening her cheeks. “How do you feel?”

Alder sighs, chin perched on Tally’s shoulder. As her heart keeps slamming against her ribs, she focuses on the grounding warmth pressed against her. “Like I woke up in the middle of a trench that’s under attack.”

“That’s…” Tally blinks. “Very specific.”

“Well, the experience is hard to forget.” Alder says. “And one I’d rather not repeat.”

Tally inhales sharply, gathering herself, before she gives into the pull that has echoed inside her for so long. She leans back, raising a tentative hand to brush loose curls away from Alder’s eyes. The back of her fingers slide down her cheek. “Why did you tell Rae to be quiet earlier? Do you have a headache?”

“I don’t know.” Alder whispers. She forces herself to stay still, worried any movement would scare away Tally’s gentle touch. “It’s all very… Blurry.”

“In your head?”

“Yes.”

Tally chews the inside of her cheek, curious. Raelle shared the experience of her own severed connection with the Mycelium, but what if Alder’s was different?

“What happened in there? Do you remember?”

“It’s all I remember.” Vivid images of her own face greeting her after she returned to her body emerge through the fog in her head. “That, and a few people. You, Raelle, Anacos-“

The name sticks to the roof of her mouth, carving through her chest. Alder rubs her fingertips together, swept away by a wave of longing for the woman she considered her daughter.

“Ana.”

It’s as close to a whimper as Tally ever heard from Alder. Pinned in place by the arms resting on her shoulders, she allows herself a second to feel the void of Anacostia’s absence.

The woman did so much to keep Tally and her sisters safe. She would always regret never having a chance to share her gratitude.

A tear hitting the back of Tally’s neck snaps her back to the conversation. She wriggles out of Alder’s grip.

“Don’t go.”

The plea freezes Tally. “I’m not leaving.” She says softly, adjusting her position until they’re sitting perpendicular to each other, legs tangled.

A flash of panic crosses Alder’s face when their eyes meet.

“It’s okay.” Tally whispers. “You can cry.”

Alder struggles, the air stolen from her lungs. “I saved so many people in that war, but I couldn’t-“ She exhales shakily. “I failed my own daught-“

“No.” Tally interrupts, a hard edge in her voice. One hand resting on the back of Alder’s neck, she brings their foreheads together.

“Anacostia made her own choices, and she saved a lot of people too. You raised a hero. Don’t take her bravery away from her.”

Tally feels Alder gasp in response. She softens her tone. “You’re allowed to be sad, or angry, or heartbroken because you miss her. I am. But don’t blame yourself for choices that weren’t yours.”

Tears keep rolling down her cheeks, while Alder fights to regain control over her ragged breathing. “When did you turn so wise, Craven?”

“You missed a lot in eight months. But it’s-“ Tally sighs, wistful. “It’s what I used to wish someone would tell my mom. I thought about it a lot in basic.”

Alder sniffles, intrigued. “Why?”

“My mom did everything she could to keep me away. She thought joining the army was a death sentence.” She recalls. “I wrote her a letter when I chose to answer the call. I gave it to a friend and told her to deliver it if I was killed.”

“What did it say?”

“Just…” Tally trails off. That part of her life seems so far away, it’s hard to remember her exact words. “I didn’t want her to feel guilty that she couldn’t convince me to stay home.”

Alder closes her eyes, sinking in the comfort of a moment that feels oddly familiar.

Tally’s unwavering empathy has always blown her away.

Wiping away her own tears, a vague sense of embarrassment creeps up on her. “I’m sorry.” She murmurs, thrown by the intensity of the emotions coursing through her.

Pain.

Frustration.

Relief.

The last time she was alive feels like a distant memory, but Alder is fairly sure her emotions never threatened to drown her before.

It’s like struggling to stand in the middle of a tidal wave.

Tally tips her head back to catch red-shot blue eyes. “Don’t apologize. I thought you took the news about Anacostia a little too well.”

“I wasn’t really…” Alder flinches, reminded of the version of herself that chased the First Song. “Myself.”

“I noticed you were different.” Tally agrees, vaguely wondering if she should move away, now that Alder doesn’t look like she’ll crumble under the weight of her own grief.

Not yet.

“I was still me, for the most part.” Alder clarifies, tentative. How can she put into words the absurd reality of life inside the Mycelium?

“Do you remember how you felt?” Tally presses, curious.

“I was seeing everything through the Mother’s eyes, almost as if I was watching myself.” She shakes her head. “Everything was muffled, like when you go under water.”

“What about your unhealthy obsession with nachos?” Tally can’t help the gentle teasing. “Was it you or the Mother?”

“Tally.” Alder’s eyes widen, sparkling with the memory. “It was the best food I’ve ever had. Do you think we can go back?”

She stares at her, open-mouthed, until an incredulous snicker bursts through her lips. “Really? That’s your priority right now?”

“I didn’t say that.” Alder frowns. “You try spending centuries without food. We’ll see how you feel.”

“Yeah.” Tally softens at the genuine disappointment, part of her horrified at the suggestion. “I guess we can go back.”

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she chooses to push Alder a little. “You still owe me a dance.” She says, in an attempt to gauge where they stand with each other.

“I suppose I do.” Alder agrees quietly, as they both freeze.

An odd sort of tension crackles in the room. It’s intense, but not uncomfortable.

Tally sighs.

Not exactly an answer.

Asking would be a more mature way to handle the situation, Tally knows. But the fear of rejection looms over her head, paralyzing.

Since the battle of the Tarim, Tally has struggled to handle any sort of distance between her and the then-General Alder.

But today, after grieving the woman twice and possibly having her back for good?

Letting Alder out of sight is a daunting, impossible task.

The thought has barely formed in Tally’s head, before she’s gripped by a wave of near-panic.

“Are you staying?” She blurts out, one hand fisted in the collar of a dark blue uniform. “Raelle said you were back. Alive. But what will you do? Did the Mother gave you another miss-“

“Tally.” Alder interrupts. Her attention flickers between Tally’s lowered gaze and the anxious twitch of her fingers. She sighs, recognizing the reaction.

Fear.

Of course Tally is scared she’ll leave again. It’s all she’s been doing, since she turned her back on the phantom connection that lingered between them after the Biddy link was severed.

Goddess, it does feel like a lifetime ago.

Maybe it is.

And Alder has picked up a few lessons since then.

“Look at me.”

Tally does. She’s surprised when two hands cup her face, Alder’s pupils shining in earnest.

“I’m afraid you might be stuck with me for a long time, Craven.”

Tally’s lips part on a breathless gasp, torn between a fierce burst of hope and wariness. “What do you mean?”

Alder scrambles for words, hesitant.

“Tell me, please.” Tally pushes, a hint of urgency in her voice.

Alder responds instantly. “The Mother sent me back to be the fourth steward.”

Tally’s breath hitches, as the statement sinks in. She deliberately flattens the fingers she has bunched in Alder’s shirt over her collarbone, the fast pace of her heartbeat thrumming under her hand.

“I explained that her gift was also a burden.” Alder continues, struggling to focus through the easy comfort of Tally's tentative touch. “I said it was too much for three people to handle, that you needed help. She sent me back for my wisdom, she said.”

When Tally stays quiet, brows furrowed as she clearly tries to wrap her head around the explanation, Alder resists the urge to squirm.

“I don’t feel very wise.” She says, when she grows tired of waiting for an answer.

It snaps Tally out of her daze.

“You volunteered.” She whispers, stunned. “Why? You’ve done so much for all of us already. You sacrificed your life to protect your sisters. Don’t you deserve some peace?”

Nervous, Tally puts into words the real reason why she never searched for Alder after she disappeared from her life. Grief - or well, denial of her grief - played a role in her silence, so did remnants of frustration.

But above all else, Tally knew exactly how much Alder had given to protect witches.

How could she ask for more?

“I did.” Alder’s eyes turn distant. “I know what it feels like, to be responsible for the safety of our people. I carried that burden for three centuries. I know how heavy it weighs on your shoulders, how much it hurts. Sometimes it feels like you can barely get yourself through a bad day, how are you supposed to solve problems that affect the entire world?”

Alder exhales, determined. “But you have to. So many people are counting on you, looking up to you for guidance. You can’t let them down, right?”

The burning sting of tears surprises Tally. The same emotions she bottled up for months are echoed back at her. It’s freeing, in a way she didn’t expect.

Maybe she should have been sharing her fears with Abigail and Raelle all along.

“I did it all my life, Tally.” Alder whispers. “I did it alone. I don’t want you to be alone.”

When Tally puts together the fragments of information slowly revealed by Alder, the tears pooled in her eyes slip down her face, quickly brushed away by the gentle fingers framing her cheeks.

“You came back for me.” She breathes out, leaning into the touch. Her lips brush Alder’s palm in the ghost of a thankful kiss.

“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for witchkind. I’ll always try to help my sisters if I can, but for the most part…”

Alder pauses, steeling herself. She’s done running away from the magnetic draw of Tally’s wide eyes.

“I came back for you, yes.” She confirms quietly.

Tally sniffles, helpless to fight the smile that slowly spreads on her lips. “I lied.” She confesses, quiet.

Alder blinks. “Did you?”

“Well, not exactly. Everything I said earlier was true. There isn’t anyone in my life who understands me.” Tally backtracks, fighting the urge to wring her fingers together. “But you do.”

“Yes.” Alder doesn’t hesitate. “I do.”

“It didn’t work with Gregorio because he wasn’t you.” Tally runs through her words, afraid to lose her sudden burst of courage. “I wanted you.”

“What about now? What do you want?” She asks, gentle. “I’m right here.”

The blue eyes meeting her own are surprisingly steady, like Alder expected the confession.

Tally grabs into that calm sense of confidence. “Can you- Would you…”

Might have to work on the confidence, Tally thinks to herself, disgruntled. She doesn’t have time to dwell on it, as a hand settles under her jawline, drawing their lips together.

Kissing Sarah Alder is both everything Tally imagined, and nothing she expected. It’s soft, and gentle, and electric in a way she can feel through her entire body.

When the tip of a tongue traces Tally’s lips, she pulls herself closer until she’s practically sitting on Alder’s lap. She deepens the kiss, earning a pleased hum.

“Yeah. That’s what I meant.” Tally murmurs once they part, breathless. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

Alder shakes her head, struggling to pull herself together. She has kissed her fair share of women throughout her life.

None left her as affected as Tally.

“Since I went inside your mind.” She answers her own question, fingers carding through dark loose braids.

Alder frowns, shocked. Tally saw the darkness she was capable, how could sh-

“Don’t.” Tally interjects when Alder’s brows furrow. She can guess exactly where her thoughts are spiraling to, and she knows neither of them has the energy to deal with that particular conversation.

They can talk about it later.

Since they’re allowed to have a later now.

Tally burrows her head into Alder’s neck, content. “We don’t have to talk about everything now, yeah?”

“I suppose…” She considers the question, heart full at the prospect of a future.

One with Tally at her side.

“It can wait.”

“Hm.” Tally agrees, with a playful tug on the curls at the back of her neck. “Don’t think I’ll let you avoid that discussion for too long “

“Of course not.” Alder laughs, eyes closed. She basks in the peaceful moment, focused on the very real weight of Tally in her arms.

On the smell of her shampoo tickling her nose.

On the rhythm of her heart pressed against her own.

“She told me to live.” The words escape Alder’s lips, unintentional.

Tally’s mind is hazy. “Who?”

“The Mother. It’s the last thing she told me, to live because I didn’t get the chance the first time.”

“She’s right.”

“Maybe.” Alder admits, sadly. “But I don’t think I know how.”

“It’s fine.” Tally grins. “I’ll show you.”