Fragmented Flames [Portal Fantasy, Adventure, Comedy]

"We're not doomed," Ember countered, sitting on an adjoining cot, hands clasped tightly. "We just need to decide how much to tell them."

"Marta and Malik already know the basics," Cinder said, pacing the small space in tight circles that left faint scorch marks on the floorboards. "And look how well that went. Marta treats us like we might explode at any moment, and Malik can't decide if we're research subjects or carnival attractions."

"But they didn't turn us in," Kindle pointed out, her golden flames forming hopeful spirals. "And they didn't abandon us."

"Pure self-interest," Cinder countered. "Marta needs reliable guards, and Malik wants to write ballads about the magical quintuplets."

"The Magisterium seems... different," Ash observed from her perch on the windowsill, silver flames coalescing into miniature question marks. "Their interest appears institutional rather than personal."

Ember sank onto her cot, which protested with a screech that perfectly matched her internal distress. "We need to decide how much to reveal. The interdimensional travel part is probably best left unmentioned."

"And the whole 'one person cursed into five' bit might complicate things," Kindle added. "Remember how Malik reacted when we mentioned the curse? All those questions about binding magic and ethical implications?"

"So we stick with being five exceptional practitioners with a shared consciousness," Ember nodded. "That's close enough to the truth without inviting unwanted scrutiny."

"What about Pyra's resurrection?" Cinder's question landed like a stone in a still pond.

Pyra sat up, her usual exuberance momentarily dimmed. "Yeah, that might be hard to casually drop into conversation. 'Oh, by the way, I recently exploded and came back to life, no big deal, happens all the time where we're from.'"

"Definitely omit that detail," Ember decided. "Along with anything about burning excess energy to regenerate physical forms."

"So we're going with selective honesty," Ash summarized, her voice carrying its usual philosophical detachment. "Interesting how quickly we've adopted the art of strategic disclosure. Necessity truly is the mother of moral flexibility."

"It's not lying," Ember argued, not entirely convincing herself. "It's... contextualizing the truth for a society that might not understand our unique situation."

"Lying by omission is still lying," Ash replied mildly. "Though I'm not passing judgment. Survival often requires compromise."

"Great, we're compromising our integrity," Cinder muttered. "What about this Galen character? He's way too interested for comfort."

"Academic curiosity," Ash suggested. "Or perhaps more personal motivations. His eagerness suggests possibilities beyond mere regulatory concern."

"Great, so we've got Ice Queen Beatrix who wants to regulate us into oblivion, and Creepy Professor Galen who probably wants to dissect our brains." Pyra sat up, running fingers through her flame-orange hair. "Anyone else think jumping town might be our best option?"

"And go where?" Ember challenged. "We need Amaranth—for Guild membership, for information about our condition, for any hope of understanding what happened when you..." She trailed off, unable to directly reference Pyra's temporary death and miraculous return.

"When I went all phoenix and messed up our brain-share?" Pyra supplied helpfully. "Yeah, there's that too."

"One problem at a time," Cinder said, checking the small clock on the bedside table. "We've got forty minutes to prepare for the most important half-truth telling of our lives."

Kindle brightened. "I've always wanted to be an actress!"

"Try for 'reserved magical practitioner,'" Cinder advised. "Not 'enthusiastic theatre kid.'"

"You're no fun," Kindle pouted.

"I'm plenty fun," Cinder retorted. "I just save it for when we're not facing magical deportation."

The Magisterium Central Tower loomed over Amaranth like an ivory needle piercing the heavens. Up close, its architectural impossibility became even more apparent—the upper sections truly did float disconnected from the main structure, defying both gravity and logic.

A wide marble plaza encircled the base, giving the impression of a courtyard contemplating the absurdity of its own existence.

Guards in silver-trimmed uniforms flanked the entrance, spears at the ready and eyes alert. Ember felt their gazes tracking the group's progress across the plaza, a subtle pressure that made her acutely aware of how out of place they were.

Apparently, even in a city of magical wonders, five identical flame-haired practitioners remained noteworthy.

"We're expected by Magistrate Beatrix Cawel," Ember informed them as they reached the enormous double doors, each carved with seven silver stars.

One guard nodded, consulting a crystalline tablet that glowed faintly. "Third level, western quadrant, Office of Regulatory Enforcement. Take the central lift."

The "lift" turned out to be a circular platform that rose through the tower's heart without visible support—just another casual display of Amaranth's magical saturation. As they ascended, Kindle peered over the edge, her gold-tinged hair falling forward.

"I wonder if anyone's ever fallen off," she mused. "Or jumped, just to see what would happen."

"Please don't test that theory," Ember requested wearily.

Pyra was already halfway to the edge, clearly contemplating exactly that, when Cinder grabbed her collar.

"Don't even think about it," she growled.

"I wasn't going to jump," Pyra protested. "Just... investigate the boundaries."

"With your body," Cinder clarified flatly.

"It's my most readily available testing equipment!"

The lift deposited them in a circular chamber with eight identical doors spaced at even intervals. Only as they approached did symbols materialize on each—administrative sigils designating different departments.

"Western quadrant... regulatory enforcement..." Ember murmured, scanning the symbols. "There."

The door swung open at their approach, revealing a reception area where a harried-looking clerk managed multiple floating documents simultaneously. He glanced up, did a double-take at five identical faces, then sighed with the bone-deep weariness of someone who'd long ago surrendered their capacity for surprise.

"Magistrate Cawel is expecting you," he intoned. "Third door on the right." He returned his attention to his floating paperwork without further acknowledgment.

The indicated hallway led them deeper into the bureaucratic heart of Amaranth's magical governance. The air thinned noticeably, taking on a static charge that made their flame-colored hair stand slightly on end.

Ember knocked firmly on the third door, which swung open immediately.

Beatrix's office reflected its occupant—austere, meticulously organized, and cold enough to store meat. Unlike the magical ostentation displayed elsewhere in Amaranth, these chambers contained no floating objects, no color-changing illumination, no unnecessary displays of arcane prowess.

Just elegant functionality and absolute order.

The Magistrate herself sat behind a massive desk of dark wood, flanked by two colleagues in similar midnight-blue robes. Galen Vosk stood slightly apart, his white hair and pale features making him appear ghost-like against the room's shadowy corners.

"You're prompt," Beatrix acknowledged with the barest nod. "Sit."

Five chairs materialized before her desk, arranging themselves in a line.

"These are my colleagues," she continued once they'd seated themselves. "Magister Orlen oversees Elemental Classifications." She indicated a balding man with a neat gray beard. "And Magister Fenna specializes in Practitioner Lineages." The woman beside her gave a thin smile that did nothing to soften her severe appearance.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Let's begin with the obvious question," Beatrix stated, hands folded on her immaculate desk. "What exactly are you?"

Five identical throats swallowed simultaneously.

"We're... five individuals sharing a single consciousness," Ember began, deciding that partial honesty was their best strategy. "We possess enhanced physical abilities and elementally-attuned pyrokinesis."

"Enhanced how?" Orlen asked, leaning forward with an avid gleam in his eyes. "Faster, stronger, more durable?"

"All of the above," Cinder replied shortly. "Our sensory perception is sharper and accelerated."

"Fascinating," Orlen muttered, scribbling notes. "And the pyrokinesis—is it similar to standard fire magic?"

"It's part of us," Kindle explained. "We don't cast spells or incantations. We... will it, and it happens." To demonstrate, she raised her hand, palm up, allowing a small tongue of golden fire to dance above her skin.

Fenna's pen scratched away. "So, instinctive use of a core magical ability, likely an extension of some underlying essence or life force."

"Not an impossible feat," Beatrix conceded, "but highly unusual. Practitioners typically require training and rites to manifest abilities, let alone ones with that degree of precision."

"Fascinating!" exclaimed Orlen. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"And the shared consciousness?" Fenna inquired. "Is it partial or complete?"

"Complete," Ember confirmed. "We experience each other's thoughts and sensations simultaneously, though we maintain distinct personalities."

"Quintuple sentience in one collective?" Fenna arched an eyebrow. "Extraordinary. And you exist as five permanently separate entities? No consolidation?"

Pyra coughed awkwardly. "It's... complicated."

"We exist in this state," Cinder said firmly, shooting Pyra a warning glance. "That's what matters for registration purposes."

Galen spoke up from the corner. "And how did you come to be like this? Were you born as you are? A familial trait, perhaps?"

Five simultaneous heart rate spikes made Galen's eyebrow quirk upward.

"That's... also complicated," Ember replied carefully. "Our origin is unique to us."

"An understatement," Pyra muttered under her breath.

Beatrix's gaze sharpened. "Your reluctance to elaborate suggests unusual circumstances. Magical experimentation, perhaps? Forbidden rituals?"

"Nothing of the sort," Ember assured her, which wasn't entirely false. They hadn't chosen their condition, after all. "We've simply always been this way."

"Always?" Fenna's tone dripped skepticism. "Records of shared consciousness are exceedingly rare, and never with such... identical manifestations."

"Our situation is unique," Ash offered, her cool composure undisturbed. "We exist as we are, neither by choice nor by design, but through circumstances beyond conventional understanding."

"Philosophical evasion," Beatrix noted coldly. "How convenient."

"And your homeland?" Orlen asked. "The region that produced such remarkable practitioners?"

"We traveled extensively before reaching Amaranth," Ember replied, sidestepping the direct question. "Our journey has been long and circuitous."

"Interesting choice of phrasing," Beatrix said, steepling her gloved fingers. "Yet you avoid mentioning a specific origin. Why is that, I wonder?"

Five minds scrambled for a unified response.

"Plausible deniability?" Pyra blurted out, then clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. "Oh, fu-"

Cinder cut her off with an elbow strike to the ribs as Ember fought down an internal scream. Why, Pyra?! Now is not the time!

"...Plausible deniability?" Beatrix's gaze turned positively glacial. "Am I to understand you're actively concealing your origins?"

"I misspoke," Pyra squeaked, sinking lower in her seat. "Slipped out."

"This is not the time for misstatements," Beatrix warned, her stare never leaving the visibly wilting Pyra. "Concealment of information during a formal inquiry is a serious offense."

Galen stepped forward from his corner. "If I may, Magistrate? I'd like to inquire about their flame manifestations."

His interruption redirected the frosty glare. "Proceed."

If Galen felt the chill emanating from Beatrix's gaze, he showed no sign. But for a quick wink at Pyra, who exhaled her held breath, he maintained the relaxed demeanor of a natural storyteller.

"Your flames," he began, eyes alight with scholarly fervor, "they manifest differently for each of you, yet operate within a unified framework. Kaelin Reed's notes described coordination difficulties despite individual excellence. Has this always been the case?"

Five heads nodded in unison.

"Coordination emerges naturally for twins," Galen continued, pacing thoughtfully. "Triplets, while rare, follow the same pattern. But quintuplets? Never documented. Your situation is, dare I say, unprecedented."

"Inconceivable, really," Fenna murmured, still scribbling.

Galen's lips quirked upward. "And yet, here you are, confounding expectations with every flicker of your flame. Statistically impossible, and yet, impossibly real."

Cinder raised an eyebrow. "Are you going somewhere with this, Archmage?"

"Simple curiosity," Galen replied mildly. "Your condition intrigues me. Flames are, after all, my specialty." As if to emphasize the point, the burgundy runes on his sleeves ignited into an inferno of blue-hot energy, though his robes themselves remained unburnt.

"Powerful flames," Galen continued as the azure blaze danced, "require focus, discipline, and above all, control. Without these, they become destructive. In your case, with such powerful but divergent manifestations, a lack of coordination could be calamitous."

His flames coalesced into a single, pulsing star before fading back into mere embroidery.

"Has there been any... progress on that front?" he inquired.

Ember opened her mouth, a denial forming, but Galen's knowing smile stopped her.

"You forget, Ember," he murmured, emphasizing her individual name, "the scrying wards around the Guild facility are extensive. I witnessed your... pyrotechnic demonstration during the trials. Quite an impressive display in terms of raw power, if not finesse."

"Enough curiosity, Archmage Vosk," Beatrix cut in. "The regulatory question remains unresolved." She fixed them with her penetrating gaze. "Your abilities don't fit standard classifications. Fire magic typically falls under Elemental Manipulation, Category Three. But shared consciousness crosses into Mental Arts, Class Five. The combination presents jurisdictional complications."

"Surely an administrative detail," Galen suggested. "These practitioners clearly possess valuable skills."

"Administration is the foundation of magical safety," Beatrix countered, her voice dropping several degrees colder. "Unclassified magic is unregulated magic. Unregulated magic leads to catastrophe."

"Then create a new classification," Galen proposed. "These five represent an opportunity for expanded understanding, not a threat to be contained."

What followed was the bureaucratic equivalent of a knife fight—Beatrix insisting on rigid adherence to established categories, Galen advocating for academic exceptions, and Orlen and Fenna weighing in with increasingly technical objections about elemental morphology and psychological limitations.

The five women sat forgotten in the crossfire, watching magical administrators argue jurisdictional minutiae with all the rancor of rival kingdoms. If the stakes hadn't been so high, it would've been almost comical.

"This is surreal," Kindle whispered.

"Should we... say something?" Pyra whispered back.

"Absolutely not," Cinder muttered. "Let them fight it out."

Ash examined her fingernails. "How curious that those who seek to impose order generate such chaos in the process."

"I'm starting to think we'd be better off without official recognition," Ember mused quietly.

"Perhaps you would," Galen said suddenly, proving his hearing was sharper than they'd realized. The room fell silent as he turned to address Beatrix directly. "What if we granted a provisional exemption? Three months, during which they operate exclusively through Guild contracts under direct Magisterial observation."

Beatrix's frown deepened. "Unprecedented."

"As are they," Galen countered, gesturing toward the five. "Think of it as a controlled study—practical application under supervised conditions."

More silent calculations flickered behind Beatrix's eyes. Finally, she made a notation in her ledger with the finality of a judge passing sentence.

"One month," she declared. "Provisional exemption from standard classification, contingent on Guild sponsorship and weekly reporting to this office. Any unauthorized magic use results in immediate revocation and deportation."

"Agreed," Ember said quickly, before Beatrix could reconsider.

"Excellent," Galen smiled, hands making those unnaturally smooth gestures again. "As it happens, I have a matter that might benefit from their unique abilities—a retrieval of certain research materials that went missing from the archives."

"Research theft is a Magisterial matter," Beatrix objected.

"Not theft—misplacement," Galen corrected smoothly. "During the recent cataloging project. And since the Guild specializes in retrievals..."

Another silent negotiation. Another reluctant concession.

"Fine," Beatrix said finally. "Assignment approved, under your supervision, Archmage Vosk." She rose, indicating the meeting had concluded. "Remember, weekly reports. Any infractions, any at all..."

"We understand," Ember assured her, standing as well. "Thank you for your consideration."

Outside, in the relative privacy of the hallway, Pyra finally exploded in a shower of orange sparks.

"Holy flaming fruitcake! Did we just get diplomatic immunity or indentured servitude? I can't tell!"

"Both," Cinder replied grimly. "We're legally protected as long as we're good little puppets doing exactly what we're told."

"It's better than deportation," Ember pointed out. "And it gives us legitimate status while we figure out this connection issue."

Galen emerged from the office, closing the door behind him. "A successful outcome," he observed with evident satisfaction. "Beatrix rarely makes exceptions to her precious regulations."

"Why did you help us?" Ember asked directly.

"Academic interest," he replied, but something in his unnaturally steady gaze suggested deeper motives. "Five individuals with shared consciousness and differentiated flame manifestations? You're a walking research opportunity."

"We're not lab specimens," Cinder warned, amber flames intensifying around her clenched fists.

"Of course not," Galen agreed smoothly. "You'll soon be Guild members with a provisional exemption and your first official contract." He produced a sealed document from his robes. "The details of the retrieval. The missing research concerns historical anomalies in consciousness transferal—quite relevant to your unique condition, I imagine."

As Ember accepted the document, Galen's fingers brushed hers—an apparently accidental contact that nonetheless sent warning signals through her mind.

"I look forward to working together," he said, still with that too-smooth smile. "I believe we have much to learn from each other."

As he walked away, five identical women exchanged glances laden with unspoken suspicions.

"Well," Pyra said brightly, "at least we're not getting deported?"

"No," Cinder agreed, watching Galen's retreating form. "We're just dancing with a different kind of danger."