A Muse of Fire! Alumette's Origin

[Alumette]

Jean-Paul Antoine Courbier was born and raised in Biot, a small coastal town in the south of France, in the region of Provence. Jean-Paul grew up in a traditional, modest provencal household, with the Mediterranean at his doorstep, and the smells of lavender, olive oil, thyme, and sea salt permeating the sunny air. He learned his family trade of glassblowing somewhat reluctantly, as he was an idealist and dreamer. He had bigger goals for himself, but sadly, tradition and finances denied him the education necessary to do anything more with his career than his father had, or his father before him.

At the age of 17, he met the love of his life, the acknowledged beauty of the village, Angelique Sophie Gitane. Angelique had an exceptional capacity for compassion and optimism, spreading light and joy throughout the village. These angelic qualities set her apart from her family, a reclusive and brooding, mysterious lot. Jean-Paul used to amuse her with delicate glass figurines he would create: animals, flowers, likenesses of the villagers. For a brief span, Angelique and Jean-Paul were deliriously happy.

But her parents forbade the marriage. The Gitane family was somewhat reclusive, with the exception of Angelique. Rumors and whispers surrounded the family. Angelique's mother was a capable midwife and herbalist, but most of the women in Biot chose to engage the services of another midwife from a neighboring village. The conventional wisdom concerning the Gitane family for centuries had been that they were witches, dealers in the black arts. Everything from droughts to illnesses were blamed on the Gitanes. How Angelique could have come into such a family was anyone's guess.

Angelique knew her parents had other plans for her, but she saw in Jean-Paul a way to escape from the horrible destiny she knew awaited her, a destiny she kept secret from him, and tried to keep from herself. For months Angelique and Jean-Paul would meet in secret. They had a plan to save enough money to make it to America, to Paragon City, that most prosperous place, to marry and start a new life.

Their plan seemed to be progressing smoothly, until Angelique found herself pregnant at the age of 19. The entire village was shocked and dismayed. They scorned her despite their love for her. Jean-Paul would not leave her, despite the urging of his family. Her family was completely enraged, and Madame Gitane insisted that Angelique take herbs to end the pregnancy. Angelique refused. Her mother responded by calling her every demeaning name in the book, and attempting to force the potion down her throat. Angelique fled her home, never looking back. She was more determined than ever to escape the black destiny her parents had in store for her.

Although he now lived with Angelique in a small abandoned shed on the outskirts of town, Jean-Paul continued to work in his family's glass-blowing shop. In his spare time he would comfort Angelique with pretty little glass figurines, and amazing, funny stories. His idealism and creativity had given him a gift for storytelling, and through this he was able to weave a protective shield of love and support around her. He had to support her through her pregnancy now that she had left her family for good, and he did so gladly, although it did slow their ability to save money to get to Paragon City.

And so it was into this environment of ostracization and fury, and pure love, that Grace was born. Angelique died two days before they were to leave for America, defending the life of her 3-month-old daughter. Madame Gitane had found them. "You know this child was not to be born!" she shrieked. "You have defied your destiny, daughter, and have ruined everything we have worked for for centuries!" With that, she rained fire down on the little family, scorching columns of fire that she seemed to call down from the sky.

Jean-Paul did not understand what was happening. Angelique was still weak from giving birth. He put himself between her and the fire, hoping to protect his beloved and his infant daughter from whatever evil madness Madame Gitane had in store. "Non," Angelique declared. She stood up and pushed Jean-Paul aside, a fury in her eyes the likes of which he had never seen. "It ends now," she spat at her mother. And to Jean-Paul's surprise, Angelique called forth a bolt of pure white energy from within herself, preparing to launch it at her mother.

*******************************
Jean-Paul had no idea his Angelique could wield magic. The only thing that mattered now was Grace. He had to keep going for her. His beautiful little daughter, so like Angelique, lay peacefully in his arms while he waited for his flight to Paragon City to be called.

*******************************

He made a decent living at a glass factory for a number of years. Grace grew strong and healthy, despite the blackouts that seemed to trouble her. The doctors insisted she was healthy, and blamed the blackouts on everything from anemia to low blood pressure. Jean-Paul didn't think they realized how serious they were, but he had his own ideas about where they came from and didn't care to call attention to it.

There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of Angelique. His creative spark had dimmed since losing her. He no longer crafted whimsical figures from glass. Instead he went to the factory every day, punched in, filled his quota, and came home. He loved his daughter more than anything, and wanted so much for her, but he couldn't show it. He didn't know how.

He knew she was a lonely girl, and he worried about her. He made one attempt on her eighth birthday, to give her a birthday party. It was the happiest he'd seen her in a long time, even though only 4 kids came. For a brief moment, his creative spark glowed bright, he was back in touch with his storytelling ability, and he entertained the girls with his impromptu tales of magical animals and fairy princesses--made all the more touching as they were told in halting English with a charming Provencal accent.

Then the factory let him go. There wasn't enough work. He tried for a year to get a new job, but in the most prosperous city in the US, there aren't many places for a man with limited English and a limited education to go. This man who had such dreams, such potential, and such a love, had only his daughter in his life now; and could not provide for her. Perhaps a glass of wine would make things easier...

...The school called again. Grace's grades were slipping. Couldn't he come in for a conference? Of course. But was the conference Wednesday or Thursday? What day was it? Another drink, perhaps, to help him remember...

********************************

"Yes, master," Jean-Paul declared, with admiration and respect in his eyes. Now here were people who understood. Who could help him, give him the power he needed to overcome his situation. The Mages had such power, and promised so much. If he only played his cards right, they could show him the secrets they knew, and he could have everything. Maybe even have his Angelique back...

He worked hard to please them. The Circle seemed to provide the guidance he'd needed. He was slowly working up the ranks, gaining a little influence. It would be soon, he thought. Already he had been asked to guard several important rituals. He had been given a special dagger and asked to keep it well. It was only a matter of time before they promoted him to Thorn Wielder. They had also given him a special assignment: to guard an ancient necklace for a powerful Mage. Soon he and Grace would be able to move out of Kings Row, into a nice apartment. She could have nice clothes, make some friends. It would be soon. Maybe if he just spent more time with the Circle, showed them his eagernes...
Bonjour, Je ma'appelle Alumette! Je suis ravie de participer avec Dawn Patrol. Je vous remercie pour avoir m'inclus.

French is my first language, although English is a close second. I was born Grace Angelique Courbier, to a father who was a hopeless dreamer and a mother I never knew. I can only imagine she died bringing me into this world, although for all I know she is still out there somewhere. My father never spoke of her and I learned quickly I was never allowed to ask. Once I saw a picture of her, standing outside a very old building in Provence. From the picture, it seems I inherited her looks more than father's.

I was born in France, in a very small town in Provence, but I remember nothing of it. Father came to Paragon City when I was only a few months old, hoping to earn a better living here at his trade than in France. We spoke only French at home, but aside from that he wanted nothing to do with France, as if he were trying to forget that's where we came from. Still, it seemed very important to him that I learn French, as if he couldn't quite give up his pride in his heritage entirely. I have come to understand that this seems to be a typically French trait, although I wouldn't know, having been raised in Paragon City.

We kind of plugged along for a while, living comfortably although not luxuriously. Papa worked, I went to school, made some friends, although for the most part I kept to myself. The kids made fun of my accent and occasionally I would have these weird blackouts that creeped the other kids out. It was entirely unexplained, although the doctors always insisted I was healthy. It made me nervous. Sometimes during the blackouts I would have these bizarre whooshing sensations, as if all my senses were hyper-aware, except that I couldn't see anything but vivd colors and swirling light around me. It felt as if my spirit were having a seizure. I would also feel extremely hot during these episodes, and be drenched in sweat when I came out of them. I found out quickly that they usually came on when I was really mad (although they still came unbidden as well), so it was that much better that I chose to be kind of a loner through school.

When I was about 13, Papa lost his job and couldn't find work. We kept up hope as long as we could, but after about a year of unsuccessful job searching, he started spending more time at the liquor store and less time sending out resumes. Now that I was going through adolescence, having weird blackouts, speaking English with a "funny" accent, *and* on welfare, my life became very unpleasant indeed. Scarcely a day would go by that I wouldn't get my derrierre kicked by the other kids after school. Everyone was bullying me. I really learned how to take punishment; which I suppose I am thankful for now, but at the time I thought I was in hell.

Even worse, Papa started attending "meetings" at night. I thought he'd decided to clean up his act and go to AA or something, but it was just bizarre. He would talk about "spiritual revelations" and the like. He was always sneaking things in and out of the house. It got so weird, and I felt like no one was there for me, least of all him, so I just stopped caring.

Fast forward. Age 19. Papa is gone to another "meeting," I'm headed out to the clubs. This was my new thing. The lights, the droning music. It was the perfect place to hide from the blackouts, although by now the teasing had stopped. My accent was now "cool" and "sexy." I felt very "hot" (so to speak) in my new club wear, I just needed the final touch. I went digging through Papa's things, thinking maybe I'd find something of my mother's, I don't know. I found a necklace in an ornate box.

After I had been at the club for a few hours, chatting up this guy, he started putting the moves on me. Before I knew it he had me pinned to the wall and had his hands all over me, despite my repeated resistance. He was just too strong. I was so angry and could feel my "fight or flight" instinct kicking in. I also felt another blackout coming on "No," I thought. "Not now!"

And suddenly the club immolated. Everyone was screaming around me. Paint was melting off the walls. I tried to help get the people out, it didn't occur to me that it was odd the fire wasn't hurting me. Next thing I know, I was in the back of a squad car, facing a pile of smoldering ashes, being questioned by the police.

I was too grief-stricken and baffled to tell them anything.

"I'll handle this," an assured voice announced. The police backed off deferentially. It was the Dream Doctor. He steered me towards MAGI and the heroes of Paragon City. I had seen them, but had never thought I could be one of them. Through my early training with MAGI, I discovered that my blackouts were caused by innate magical ability that I possess, and whose origin is unknown. I learned that the necklace, now in the hands of MAGI, is an artifact intended for use by the Circle of Thorns, and was what fully activated my powers--powers I didn't even know I had.

Most importantly, I learned to use and control my powers, and how to hone the fighting skills I'd picked up defending myself on the playground all those years.

When I enlisted as a hero, I changed my name to Alumette (a stylized spelling of the French word for "match"), and never looked back. Papa is completely lost to the Circle of Thorns, if he even survived the Rikti invasion. I haven't seen him since the night I... met The Dream Doctor.

I am haunted every night by the screams of those I killed. I relive the raging fire at the club every time I sleep. I can only hope my commitment to doing good can in some way atone for my disastrous mistake.

Since the Rikti invasion and the loss of our infrastructure, humankind is in a position where we face a broader range of terrifying threats than ever before. I am pleased to be part of the Dawn Patrol, an organization whose legacy for fighting the good fight runs deep. I see the promise of redemption here, and hope to do my part. It is an honor to serve with you all.

Only those closest to me are allowed to call me by my given name, Grace, by the way. Just so you know.

[Alumette]

Alumette's office is neat and organized, but not obsessively so. The overall feel of her office is more or less "feminine and creative meets tough-as-nails." Her desk is sleek and simple: a brushed aluminum affair that looks to be of Italian design. Behind it is a *very* comfortable chair upholstered in deep purple brushed cotton. Her desk is home to an array of paperwork, organized in various brightly-colored folders, or held together with colorful paper clips (some of them very uniquely shaped). These items are spread out across her desk in various piles, in a system that makes sense only to her. The effect is a riot of color that is in counterpoint to the sleek simplicity of her desk. A stack of flirty stationery with a purple flame motif occupies a corner, near a chipped black coffee mug imprinted with the words, "Courage is Grace Under Pressure--Ernest Hemingway."

On a corner of her desk is a laptop computer, its screen wallpaper depicting the image of three red roses in a crystal vase. Scattered about are tiny trinkets, as Alumette is a fidgeter. There is the small glass raven her father made for her years ago, a Rubic's cube (completely unsolved, the colors all mixed up), a series of the little rubber monster finger puppets one gets at the dentist as a child, a slinky, and a koosh ball.

There is also a pencil cup filled with pens and pencils, many of them topped with more of the monster finger puppets. On the wall adjacent to her computer is a bulletin board, on which are pinned a few candid photos (mostly of her companions in Dawn Patrol, the majority being of her and Stalking Shadow), a postcard depicting a cliffside scene in Provence, a couple of recipe cards, and a green fish made out of a pipe cleaner.

On the coatrack near the door way is her leather jacket with its purple flame motif, matching purple gloves peeking out of the pocket; a navy blue baseball cap, a ragged sweater, and a very flamboyant purple and red silk scarf. At its base lies a gym bag containing athletic wear, running shoes, and various items for her toilette.

On the wall opposite her desk is a large poster containing the "Tanker's Creed". Beneath it is an old red velvet "fainting couch" which Alumette had salvaged from the curb one night. A deep purple blanket and matching throw pillows are strewn across it. Next to this is a small low table with the following books on it: "Le Petit Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, A collection of Walt Whitman's poetry, Jean de la Fontaine's Fables , and "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu.

A CD boombox sits in the corner, with a stack of CDs near it. Some of the titles included are: Linkin Park's Meteora, Stravinsky's Firebird Suite, Bebel Gilberto's self-titled album, a couple of selections from KMFDM, Patricia Kaas' Tour de Charme, and an 80s collection.

She has a small window in her office, and it is crammed with healthy plants of different sizes and varieties, as her nurturing instinct extends beyond the members of Dawn Patrol.

Nearby, in a corner, hang a large punching bag and a small speed bag. Some 40- and 50-lb. dumbbells sit on the floor nearby. They look well-used. Hanging on the walls behind the bags are two movie posters: one from the film "Buckaroo Banzai: Across the Eighth Dimension," and the other from Miyazaki's "My Neighbor Totoro."

"The Tankers' Creed (adapted from a statement by Warhound).
We decide the direction the battle will take by drawing aggro and offering up our own bodies as superhuman targets. With calm and resolve, we can coerce the boss or lieutenant into facing the might of our superpowered fists in single combat. We can shake the very earth and mete out justice on the whole villainous host. We can draw the enemy into ambush, allowing our comrades in arms to thrash the evildoers and trusting in our own iron will to see us through.

We are the rock against which the sea of evil must inevitably crash and the foundation of any good team. We are the eye of the hurricane, the calm amidst the storm. We are both the irresistable force and the immovable object that herald the clarion call of justice!

Strength and sacrifice, the essence of heroism. We are tanks. None shall pass!

Rule #1: Be the first to die.
Rule #2: Don't die."

[Alumette]

A few entries from Alumette's journal, circa July/August, 2004:

So, I'm still afraid of heights and Shad is still torturing me with it. Although I did notice for a brief span (peering between my fingers as I coverd my eyes) that it can be a pretty view. I would like to see the view in Steel Canyon sometime. As long as I've been sufficiently warned and can stay as far back against the building as possible. And have something to hang onto.

I discovered that the man can have other things on his mind besides battle, though. Nice....

Went dancing for a bit with Niall before patrolling. It was good to see him! I feel I haven't seen him in ages. I thought the dancing would loosen me up a bit before the patrol, since I've been sort of gun-shy and distracted lately. But it just made me more tense. Kind of in a good way, but still. My heart is confused.

(...)

It's been so very long since I've put my thoughts down on paper. So much has happened. I am quite a different person now. More myself, you could say. I am beginning to get the sense that I am swept up in a much larger destiny than I've ever imagined. My meditations are becoming much deeper, much more profound. I no longer feel alone in the universe.

Papa is gone, forever. I know this now. Jean-Paul Courbier died a long time ago. This person who's lifespan is a continuation of his, this "Monsieur Mer," the crystal master--il n'est pas mon papa. Revenge against the Thorns is now not enough. It is too small, too petty. Something bigger is happening here, and I don't quite know what it is--but I feel it. And I need to rise to meet it. It seems to go beyond me, and my father, and the Thorns. I see it now.

J'ai trouve le puits dans mon desert... et c'est Stalking Shadow. C'etait une surprise eblouissante de decouvrir, mais au fond de mon coeur, je le savais pour toujours.

[Translation: I have found the well in my desert, and it is Stalking Shadow. It was an astonishing surprise to discover, but at the bottom of my heart, I have always known it.]

[Alumette]

And Our Lady of Light was imprisoned in darkness, and the world despaired. The Shadow consumed her, desiring power above all else, and seduced her with false promises, and lured her devoted to His cause.

Our Protectress, our beloved Nurturer, was sealed into the earth, bonded in darkness. We held vigil for one year, until our number was diminished. The Light was hidden, the Shadow prevailed. And so she became a tool for the Darkness.

********************************************

“Then surely you are aware of what this means?” Marcel said, with some urgency, leaning forward on his elbows and picking up his glass of the local rosé from the tiny café table.

The Dream Doctor nodded slowly, gazing across the sunny, lazy street of the small coastal town, watching as ladies of the village went about their provisioning for the evening’s meal: purchasing olives, bread, cheese, and fresh fish and vegetables from small stalls along the sidewalk. “I have read the myths, and the prophecies,” he said, turning back to look at Marcel. “But that means nothing. If I had followed every event that resembled a portent, I’d have wasted a great deal of time in my life indeed. We have so little to go on.”

Marcel nibbled on a plump cured olive. “Without a doubt,” he said. “But some of these signs can’t be denied. And some of the locals are beginning to return to the ancient shrines. There are whispers.”

“What of the family?” the Dream Doctor said in a hushed tone, leaning forward.

“As I told you,” Marcel said assuredly. “Gone, since Angélique and her mother killed one another.”

The Dream Doctor nodded. “And as the family line is carried on the woman’s side in this tradition… Still, she never knew her mother. And she came to Paragon City, from this area, as an infant with her father around the same time.”

Marcel finished his wine and tossed a few bills on the table. “Come, mon ami , “ he said. “Let us walk.”

Marcel rose from the table and bade the Doctor to follow.

***********************************
“So it’s true,” the Doctor said, contemplating the inscription on a very old tablet. “The split, I mean.”

“ Oui ,” Marcel nodded. “It is true. But it was necessary at the time, given the historical context.”

The Doctor ran his finger along a line of text. “I see,” he said. “Of course. As countless researchers have shown. I just always considered it to be in a more… symbolic sense.”

“Ah. The Riordan theory,” Marcel smiled. “It has its merits. But I tell you, according to the research we have done, the split was a real, physical, concrete one as well.”

The Doctor paused. “This symbol here…” he said, tapping a glyph on the tablet. “My runic symbology is so rusty. What is the translation?”

Marcel glanced over the Doctor’s shoulder. “Ah. Algiz,” he smiled. “Protective sanctuary. Although in this context, as it’s positioned…” he contemplated the rune momentarily, cocking his head to one side. “It translates to…Grace. Yes… that’s it,” he nodded. “Grace.”

********************************************
The hour was late. The Dream Doctor rubbed his eyes and gazed at the pile of books and scrolls that surrounded him in Marcel’s comfortable study. A roaring fire blazed in the enormous stone fireplace, and the Doctor sipped his tisane serenely. Slipping into a deep meditation, he reached out with his consciousness to touch Alumette.

The Woman appeared.

"You must do what your birthright compels you to do, Grace," she said. She was the most beautiful woman Alumette had ever seen: pale skin, deep, soulful brown eyes, and dark brown hair with a plum-colored fire in it. Her hair was thick and long, flowing down her back, its lines melding with the deep purple robes that sheltered her petite frame. She was bathed in light, and emanated compassion. "I'm so proud of you." She smiled, and Grace felt a tugging at her heart as The Woman touched her cheek gently.

"There is so much you still need to give," The Woman said sadly. "But you must be willing to accept also. Accept what is given you. With it, you are more than what you have become. Without it, all is lost. The emptiness must be borne elsewhere. But not with you."

The Doctor opened his eyes and pondered this imagery. The woman resembled Alumette a great deal. His cell phone beeped. He checked the caller ID and saw that it was Athra, probably just uploading her daily report. The Doctor yawned and stretched in his chair. His eyes settled on a small crystalline figure that glowed pleasingly on Marcel’s mantel.

‘That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Marcel! It’s true! I found the connection!”
Shadow grabbed his cell phone, and clicked his speed-dial. The phone rang twice, and on the other end, Alumette picked up. "Hello?"

"Grace! It's Shadow. Listen, the charter confirmed the flight. We're leaving this Friday. Don't worry about packing absolutely everything, if we forget something, I'm sure we could buy it in Provence... or Paris."
Marcel nodded excitedly. "Yes, yes...I see," he said as the Doctor pieced together his theory. He bustled about, pulling tomes from shelves and spreading a series of artifacts on the table. "If what you're telling me is true, then the split never really happened. At least not the way we've always suspected." He thumbed through several texts.

"Right," the Dream Doctor said. "Rather than a falling out between factions, or a conscious choice on the part of the Shadow sect to stage a coup of the Light, the schism was artificially imposed on them. Some external force tricked them into turning against one another, and then imprisoned the Light to upset the balance..."

"...Thereby commandeering the powers of the Shadow for their own ends," Marcel finished.

"Indeed. Without the balancing effect of the Light, the Shadow's power could increase without limit, provided there were enough devotees. Any remaining devotees of the Light would have to have eventually fallen under their control, which would explain..."

Marcel nodded, on the same wavelength. "Yes. It would explain that."

The two scholars pored over the texts before them. "But I still don't see how she could have returned. If it is her, there's nothing I can think of in her life that would have brought it about," the Doctor shrugged. "There are too many questions."

"Perhaps. What do you make of this?" Marcel asked, pushing a book over towards and indicating a passage.
"So it definitely was the Thorns," the Doctor said, looking up from his notes. "As we've long suspected. And tying it in with our research on these animals, I'd say this is definitely one of their preferred methods of gaining control."

Marcel nodded. "It would seem so. They probably assumed that the line would die out naturally once the Light were imprisoned and her devotees turned to Shadow or were destroyed."

"And they probably assumed, as did we all, that the line did die out with Angelique and Helene's mutual murder."

"Helene can hardly be considered one of the line," Marcel quipped. "She was definitely in service to the Shadow."

The Doctor shook his head. "Tomayto, tomahto," he said. "Birthright is birthright. And the Light and the Shadow were one--the same thing--before the split. So it's a question of semantics."

"A fact to be debated at another time. So the Thorns used their magic to imprison any beings that opposed their vision. You think the Light was imprisoned in this necklace?"

"Perhaps. I originally thought it was part of the Light's complement of ritual artifacts. But this new evidence seems to indicate that it may have been what actually imprisoned Her."

"Perhaps it is both," Marcel said. "Perhaps it was something used by the priestesses of Belisama, and then the Thorns got their hands on it."

The Doctor nodded. "The idea has merit. And at this point I am almost certain that Grace is the continuation of the line."
Grace sat across the table from the Dream Doctor, in Marcel's comfortable study. He looked at her gravely. "Grace, I want you to understand how serious this is." Grace nodded. She wished Shadow were here, but the Doctor had made it clear that what he had to tell her was for her ears alone. At least for now. Apprehension welled up inside her, in addition to the growing curiosity and anticipation. All of the questions she'd had her whole life would finally be answered.

He cleared his throat and began. "As you know, you got your powers from your mother." Grace nodded. "And she, from her mother before her, and on and on back through the generations."

"Yes, I remember. You told me this when I first came to MAGI and you had examined my necklace."

The Doctor nodded. "I have had my suspicions about your particular family line," he said. "And now they are all but confirmed.

"For generations, the people here have venerated Belisama, goddess of the hearth. Over the years, her name has changed--Hestia in the time of the Greeks, and Vesta during Roman times--but the essence has been the same. She is the symbol of nurturing, protection, and warmth. She also has been invoked for creative assistance and technology, as her association with fire links her to the craftsman's forge.

Even before she was known as Belisama, she was worshipped. Since before time, it seems. Those who maintained their devotion to her have used magic to express that devotion and spread her philosophy. For thousands of years, there were two sects that worked side by side in her honor: one representing light and the other representing shadow, or darkness.

"They understood that the one could not exist without the other. They knew there was no life without death, no flame without darkness. This fact is largely unknown outside of magical circles. But it's irrefutably true.

"Around the time of the Greeks, a split occurred between the two factions. Many believed this was the result of the shadow becoming greedy, or that the split was metaphorical or symbolic in nature. But in my research here I have found it was a bona fide split. The shadow sect broke away, and the light only barely survived.

"The Circle of Thorns imprisoned the avatar of the light at that time in a stone," he gestured, indicating her necklace. "And they blamed it on the shadow. The two sects fell to infighting, and when they split, the Thorns took over the shadow sect, using them for their own ends.

"Without the balancing force of the light, the darkness grew in power, unchecked. The light was nearly obliterated except for a few small pockets. Most practitioners of the light went over to the dark to save themselves. Including your family."

Grace sat stunned as she listened to the tale. The Doctor continued.

"Your grandmother, Helene Gitane, was of that line. She was a powerful mage, in service to shadow. But all through this time, a small, silent war was raging on the part of the light, to restore balance. Somehow, the few remaining devotees of the light managed to free a small part of the goddess from the stone."

He looked at Grace gravely and took a deep breath. "That part of the goddess entered this world through an avatar. Your mother."

Grace sat frozen in her chair. "My mother?" she stammered. Her head was swirling. What did this all mean?
"Indeed," the Doctor replied. "Your grandmother was furious. She had planned to betrothe her firstborn grandchild to a powerful dark mage. She knew that this destiny would be difficult to fulfill. She tried for years to keep your mother's true identity secret, but it was no use. Your mother was called Angelique for a reason."

Alumette looked deeply saddened. Her father had so rarely spoken of her mother, but a few times when he had been really drunk, he spoke of her kind and gentle heart.

"You know the rest of the tale, at least up to your birth. Your father and mother fell in love, your grandmother forbade it, you were born out of wedlock, and Helene and your mother killed one another shortly after you were born, in a magic battle over your existence."

This was all news to Grace, and it came as quite a shock, but she said nothing.

"What you don't know is, your grandmother, to ensure that she kept her promise to the dark mage, secretly saw to it that there would be another child of your generation. As the village midwife, she delivered a baby around the same time you were born, to an unfortunate young girl without a family. She declared the baby stillborn, and took it to raise in secret. She trained her in the ways of dark magic from the time she was very small.

"You have a sister, Grace, after a fashion. That sister is Athra."
Grace could not believe her ears. "This is all happening so fast," she said, her mouth dry. She poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the table and sipped.

"I know," the Doctor said. "It's a lot. Just take your time."

After a few moments, he continued. "Athra came to Paragon City for reasons that are not important for this discussion. Maybe another time. But the point is, you need her. As we have talked so often in our training about emptiness and fullness... she is to be the bearer of emptiness."

"But I thought--" Grace began.

"Yes, as did we all. It was believed that the goddess' source was rooted in emptiness, but there's more to it than that. Again, for another time," he said, waving a hand to dismiss any potential questions.

"A devotee of the light gave your mother the necklace when she was about 15. He explained to her what it was, and told her to guard it with her life. Her powers increased dramatically around this time, as the part of the goddess that was within her connected to the goddess in the necklace. She never put it on, but apparently always carried it with her.

"You know the rest of this story, and how it came to be in your father's hands, and to Paragon City. And ultimately, to you." Grace nodded slowly. She knew only too well.

"For a long time it was believed that the goddess was celibate, and her devotees were expected to be as well. This came about as a result of the Greek tradition. Her devotees melded their tradition with the Greek persona of Hestia to protect their dwindling numbers. But we know that Belisama had consorts.

"The tradtion of virginal devotees has been associated with the goddess for a couple thousand years--long enough to make it a reality in the fabric of her traditions. You remember how at MAGI we studied the effects of human belief on spiritual reality?" Grace nodded again, processing all that she had heard.

"That's why, when you put the necklace on, your powers temporarily disappeared. You were just falling in love with Shadow at the time. The goddess suspended your powers in keeping with that tradition."

Grace looked puzzled. "Yes, I remember. But then, why did they come back, and so strongly? And how was my mother able to use her powers when she was in love with my father?"

The Dream Doctor smiled. "First of all, because your mother never put the necklace on. It's a tiny detail, but it matters. You know, you were born with your powers, but they never really came out of you until you put the necklace on. Your mother's situation was the same, but she had the benefit of training. You did not, until much later.

"As to the other part of your question, well, that's a bit more complicated."
"Grace, you are the avatar of the goddess. That tiny piece of her that was freed, passed to you when you were born. Do you remember when you used to have blackouts?"

Grace nodded. Of course she remembered.

"During those times, the goddess would fight to work through you, but you didn't have the training to enable her to, nor the medium of the necklace. She was basically trapped in you, although from time to time she would succeed in doing her work.

"I seem to recall you had a very, very bad blackout during the Rikti invasion. You didn't come out of it for three days." He looked at her pointedly. "I imagine the goddess was pretty busy during the invasion, don't you think? Helping people? Doing what she does best? Providing protection? Perhaps to one person in particular?"

Grace was stunned at what he was insinuating. "But I-- I didn't know him..."

"No, you didn't know him. But she did. She has always known him."
A silence filled the room, tangibly so. The Doctor put a hand on hers. "There's more, if you want to hear it," he said kindly.

Grace nodded, a little numb.

"Now that the necklace has become a part of you, the goddess recognizes you as the vehicle of her destiny. That is why your powers have returned, and you feel that they are so much more powerful now. More and more of her is becoming freed. You are becoming her, in a sense. You and she will bend to one another's will--become one. She recognizes and accepts your love for Shadow. She sees that you are so much more with him than without. And she recognizes him.

"Has she been speaking through you? Have you had fugue moments, speaking with a voice that wasn't yours? Anything like that?"

Grace looked a little frightened. "I--I don't know about that," she said nervously.

The Doctor patted her hand. "It's allright, Grace," he said with a smile. "This is who you are. And I can't think of a better person for this. I'm so very, very proud of you."

Grace looked into his eyes and saw kindness and warmth. This man, this mentor, who had always intimidated her; who had trained her in the ways of magic often by pushing her to the brink, was proud of her. It meant more to her than she had ever imagined.

[Alumette]

Back at the house, Grace entered to find Shadow reading a newspaper on the couch. She looked ashen, and a little exhausted. "So, how did it go?" Shadow asked.

"I just have... a lot to process," she replied, flopping onto the couch next to him.
Shadow folded the paper, and put it on the coffee table in front of him. His brows knit as he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. "You make it sound as if you're an obsolete computer. What's wrong?"
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" Grace asked, fidgeting determinedly with the tassel on a nearby throw pillow. She shook her head and closed her eyes. "There's just so much...so much to it." She tilted her head and looked up at him. "You ready?"

She could see in his eyes that he was. She took a deep breath, and offered a small warning: "I'm going to just start talking until I'm done. Probably babbling, really, but bear with me."

And with that she recounted everything the Dream Doctor had told her, trying to include as much detail as possible.

When she was finished, she seemed more serene, as if talking about it had somehow made it easier to swallow. She smiled gently. "Well, that's it," she said softly.
As Alumette's recount grew longer, Shadow grew more somber. When she finished, he was nearly dead silent.

"Well, that's it," she said softly.

As if snapping out of a trance, he grinned meekly, "Almost ironic, isn't it? You're an avatar of the light... and I'm Shadow." He gave her a brief kiss on the side of her head, a little squeeze, and he stood.

"Listen, I'm going to go for a drive. There's a couple things I want to think over. You can come with me, if you want, but I can't promise I'll be a good conversationalist." He moved to the front door, and grabbed the rental car keys from the hook, and started walking out.
Alumette rose and stood in front of him. "Excuse me, what?" she asked, a little annoyed. "You're just going to go? I've had the Big Heavy dropped on me, and I've shared it with you, and you have to think things over? Thinking over, I understand. I don't blame you and I would expect you to want something like that. But why do you need to do it alone?"

Her voice rose to a passionate tone. "Not long ago you gave me the big speech about how we had all this stuff to face together and we'd better do it together. Where's the together here?" She was pulling a light sweater over her arms and grabbing her sunglasses as she continued her harangue.

"Think about it all you want, but hell if I'm gonna let you do it alone." She was mad, but Shadow could tell she also seemed to understand his need to handle it this way. By the time they'd gotten to the door, she had calmed down, although her demeanor was completely deadpan.
Shadow walked over to the passenger side of the rental car: a cobalt blue Aston-Martin Vanquish, and opened the door with a flourish, beckoning her enter in a butler's fashion. He shut the door carefully when she entered, took the driver's seat, shoved the keys into the ignition, and started the car impatiently.

As an afterthought, Shadow put on his seat-belt as turned the car onto the little countryside road, and the car shot off, flinging gravel into the air at speeds that seem obviously dangerous.

The car took a right turn onto a junction, and the turbulence of high speeds over unpaved roads gave way to smooth cruising on the highway. Shadow took a moment to look over at Alumette.

[Alumette]

A buzzing came from Shadow's belt, and he cursed loudly, turning the car onto the shoulder of the road to check his pager. He read the number and accompanying name, and cursed again, he looked up to Grace with a frown. "And it looks like She needs you now. Homeland just buzzed, and I'm assuming that it has a lot to do with a big, pretty building filled with art."

He got out of the car, and thumbed his comm, typing in the number. "Leftenant Stalking Shadow, reporting as requested, sir."

"Yes, I've read the news."

"No, I haven't checked the news recently."

"They've already made their move? What'd they do?"

"..."

"Oh, so it wasn't so much a move, but they did tip their hand."

"Yes, Leftenant Alumette is with me."

"We're in Provence."

"..."

"Yes sir, in the south of France."

"To get to Paris? I don't know. Don't we have any heroes on scene?"

"Well, why don't they deal with it? Lt. Alumette is enjoying her vacation, sir."

"I see. No sir, I don't want that."

"..."

"Yes sir, I understand. We'll be ready for teleportation in ten minutes."

"Fine, five." Shadow hung up, and looked apologetically to Grace.

"I took the liberty of putting your gear in the trunk. It's in the black duffel." Shadow went to the back of the car, and popped the trunk open, removing his own giant duffel, and a large, hardshelled suitcase. He sat on the suitcase, sat holding the duffel.

"Grab the bag, and sit next to me, we're being teleported as a single unit."

[Alumette]

[BACK IN PARAGON CITY... ALUMETTE AND STALKING SHADOW HAVE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER IN AN APARTMENT IN FOUNDERS FALLS FOR SOME MONTHS...]

The flames died down as Alumette made one last sweep of the caves. All the Thorns had been arrested, and she gathered up the clues she’d picked up for processing at MAGI. She wiped her brow and examined a tear in her gloves. She’d have to stop at Icon on the way home to get that fixed. She made her way to the surface and pulled out her comm. to report the mission as complete.

She skimmed through her text messages, smiling as she read the one from Shadow: a spontaneous limerick written just for her. And then his next one caught her attention completely:

Grace,
I have some important news. Not sure if it’s good or bad. Thorns.
Love, Dom

She entered his frequency on her comm. “It’s me,” she said, her voice edged with concern. “What’s this news?”

He sounded preoccupied. “You should come home. I need to talk to you.”

She was speeding across the city towards Founders Falls before he’d even finished his sentence.

She was barely through the door. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Shadow said in a tone whose evenness almost fooled her. Almost. He was obviously trying to maintain his sang-froid. He nodded towards the couch. “You should sit down.”

Grace paused, leveling her gaze at him, trying to read him, to get any sense at all for what he was about to tell her. He was motionless. Professional. Guarded. And wound tight. She’d seen this side of him before—during a certain affair with the Tsoo—and knew better than to push.

“Sit down,” he said once again. As she did so, Shadow placed a large, rough piece of dark crystal on the table. The crystal seemed alive with shimmering lights that flitted about inside it. Some were brighter than others, some more sluggish. She gazed at it, admiring its beauty while simultaneously trying to quell her apprehension at Shadow’s demeanor.

“Listen, you might not like what I'm going to tell you, so let me preface it,” He said. He may as well have been giving a patrol briefing, as deliberate as his speech was. She knew him well enough to know it was just veneer. His eyes betrayed his distress. “I just finished a big assignment, and I think something I found out was a little over my head.” He didn’t look at her, but rather gazed at a small design on the wallpaper that was just past her left shoulder.

Alumette was trying to figure out to what extent she needed to be worried. “Uh... okay. Magic? Do you want me to call someone at MAGI? Are you all right?” She knew his cold, exacting manner was how he’d kept himself alive all those years, how he’d made such a reputation for himself, and how he kept himself sane; but with his mixed emotional feedback she was at a loss for how to respond. He nodded.

“I'm alright. It's you that I'm worried about. I understand what the problem is, I just need to tell you something.” He looked at her, his eyes softening for just a brief second behind his practiced yet malleable sang-froid. “Just listen for a bit.” His gaze returned to the spot on the wallpaper, and he took a deep breath and continued in a measured tone, “A contact got in touch with a mage in the Thorns who wanted to defect. The guy's name was Akarist.”

Grace paled at the mention of the Thorns. Worry began to cloud her features and she listened intently as he explained his mission: a couple of days in Orenbaga, searching through the libraries, for…what, exactly? Shadow’s eyes remained fixed on the unimportant little bit of wallpaper, gazing past her.

”One of'em, instead of being full of books, was full of these artifacts, items of power. One of the mooks I overheard called it the ‘Great Library’. Akarist was the Great Librarian, I guess,”

Alumette furrowed her brow, trying to see how this connected to her, trying to anticipate what he might have to say to her that she needed to sit down for.

“One of these artifacts was a crystal, like that one.” Shadow pointed to the crystal on the table. “I brought it up to my contact.” Shadow paused and looked at Grace once more, seeming to weigh his next set of words carefully. Again to the wallpaper. “He said it was full of souls.”

“Souls?”

He did not look at her. He simply repeated, clarified, like an accountant reviewing a ledger. He was struggling to keep his own feelings in check. “Souls. Victims of the Thorns.”

Grace gasped. He continued. “The way that the contact explained it to me, was that mediums could contact souls that were allowed to rest, and those victims would give up Thorn secrets. You can't kill a soul... so they had to keep them in prisons. One of these souls said that he wanted to be reunited with his remains. I had to traipse through Oranbega s'more, and I found the guy's body. In his jacket, written in blood, was a map of Oranbega. One place was circled, and I went there. It was another library... a Library of Souls.” His voice trailed off and his gaze became even more distant for a moment. He paused and looked at Grace. “Are you okay?”

Alumette closed her eyes and took Shadow’s hand. “I hate them, Tom.”

He nodded, “That makes two of us.”

There was a moment of quiet before he continued. “I found dozens of crystal shards like this one. Each one of those lights in there is a soul, Grace. The Thorns had captured thousands of souls...”

Grace could feel her heart breaking as he spoke. “In that one alone,” he pointed again to the smoky, illumined crystal on the table, “there's more than five hundred.”

He went on to tell her the truth about Orenbaga and the Thorns; about how the city was filled with malevolent spirits who preyed on the innocent to possess their bodies. Alumette blinked back tears, not wanting to hear anymore. She buried her face in her hands, “Why are you telling me all this?”

Shadow took both her hands in his, and looked into her eyes. “Grace,” he began, “These Orenbagans, they’ve been playing this game for a long time. Eventually, they looked like any other group. Some folks got coerced, and then they lost their bodies too...”

She stared at him, the glimmer of a likely conclusion beginning to press into her mind. She willed herself not to let it emerge. Shadow’s eyes were sincere. His voice became soft. “Listen, Grace... I found somethi-- someone... down there. Your father.”

“You... you what?”

Shadow let out a sigh, his words forming around a ragged breath. “I found your father. He's in that shard on the table. He reached out to me when I touched the crystal... I didn't believe it at first, Grace... but... something makes me think that he's sincere.”

Alumette shook her head, almost angry. “This isn't funny, Tom.” Shadow pulled her trembling form into a tight embrace. “Grace, I wouldn't joke about something like this. He says that he's sorry.”

She leaned into him, suddenly feeling very fragile. Tentatively, almost in a whisper, she asked, “You talked to him?”

Shadow gave a thoughtful half-smile. “Talk is a funny word to describe it. It was telepathic.” He pushed back from her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Listen... touch the shard, he'll come to you.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He told me that he knew me. He knew that I love you. He said that he'd like to see you again. To apologize.”

Tears spilled over onto her cheeks as she thought about the last ten years, lost, between her and her Papa. She gazed at the crystal. Somehow, it was comforting, to know he had had the chance to meet Dominic, after a fashion. “But...how?” she asked, of Shadow, of the goddess, of whomever would listen.

Shadow shrugged, his eyes misty with tears. “There are forces at work that are larger than you and me, I suppose.”

“Papa, c’est toi?” she reached tentatively towards the crystal, her fingertips grazing its surface. It was warm.

He was inside her head: his warm, workingman’s voice that she hadn’t heard in so very long. It was an odd comfort. “Grace, ma belle fille,” he said.

She felt a sucking void pull at the center of her being. There was a flash behind her eyes, and suddenly everything went black.

[Alumette]

The nurse stepped into the waiting room of the Galaxy City Hospital ER. Major Britain stood and approached.

“She’s awake, Major,” the nurse said. “But there’s something you should know.” She opened a chart and pointed out a few items detailing Alumette’s care. “Major, we have all the latest technology to deal with the special medical needs of heroes,” she began. “But her powers—they’re gone. Completely. The doctor has a call in to MAGI to look into it, as her records indicate her powers are magic in origin. But so far no one has responded.”

The Major furrowed his brow. “So you don’t know what happened?”

“Medically-speaking, she’s fine,” the doctor said as she came out of an adjacent office and joined the Major and the nurse in their impromptu conference. “A little shaken, maybe, and she should rest; but she’s okay. We can release her on your signature, but City Hall requires that she be suspended from heroing duties until we understand what’s happened with her powers.”

The Major nodded, reviewing Alumette’s release forms and applying his signature to the space.

The doctor put a hand on Major Britain’s shoulder. “All her security clearances have been revoked,” he said sympathetically. “As of now, she’s just a regular, strong woman. A civilian. It would be far too dangerous for her to undertake even a simple hero assignment. You do understand.”

Jason sighed and reached for his comm. He had an important conference call with UK HQ in a few moments. With Alumette powerless, and Stalking Shadow on indefinite disciplinary leave, his challenges were mounting. He couldn’t spare taking a single Dawn Patroller off assignment, so he called Alumette’s good friends Tiger Gold and Blue Bolt.

“When she’s ready to be released, there are two heroes that will come to collect her: Tiger Gold and Blue Bolt.” He gave the two heroes’ respective ID numbers and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you for all your help,” he said.

************************************************** ****************

“Papa?” Grace awoke in the hospital, disoriented. “Grace, you’re okay,” Shadow assured her. “I’m not sure what happened, but the doctor says you’re fine.” He took her hand and smiled, although Grace could tell he wasn’t telling her the whole story. “The Major’s here to sign your release papers. How do you feel?”

Grace sat up slowly. She felt fine, physically; but spiritually she felt very empty. She assumed a meditation posture and concentrated on finding her source.

She was unsuccessful. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “What’s wrong with me?” she asked, panic flooding her eyes.
Shadow squeezed her hand. “They’re looking into that,” he said. “The crystal; somehow it must have affected your powers. MAGI is already on the case,” he said assuredly. “Did you get a chance to talk to your dad?”

She shook her head slowly. “I just heard his voice for a little bit,” she said quietly.

Shadow looked at his watch. “I imagine your release is all set,” he said. “The Major and I have some business to attend to at HQ.” He sat on the side of the bed. “You’re going to be all right, Grace,” he said, taking her into his arms. “I’m glad I got to meet your dad,” he added quietly, running a hand through her hair.

************************************************** *****************
Meanwhile, at MAGI, the Dream Doctor sifted through his messages. The one from Galaxy City hospital caught his attention. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, sitting down slowly in his chair. “What have you gotten yourself into now, Grace?” he asked no one in particular. He pondered for a moment, then stood abruptly and turned to the large bookshelf behind his desk, scanning the titles until he’d found the musty leatherbound treasure he sought.

************************************************** *****************
The Major folded his hands on his desk. “Lt. Alumette,” he began. “You realize I can’t have you on assignment until we know what’s happening with your powers. It’s too dangerous, and City Hall expressly forbids it. Your clearances have been revoked.”

Grace shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Sir,” she sighed. “I realize the dangers. But perhaps with a team, I could—“

Major Britain raised a hand. “It’s out of the question, Alum. However City Hall assures me that your paperwork for clearance will be expedited, given your reputation and exemplary record. I have asked for some leeway in using my professional judgment for putting you on assignment, and been granted it.” He allowed a small conspiratorial smile to creep into his expression. “So as your powers return, and I know they will, you will be allowed to prove to City Hall that you are as capable as you and I both know you are,” he winked. “Dismissed, Leftenant,” he said, and returned to his paperwork.

Alumette grinned and rose from her chair. “Thank you, sir,” she said, offering a sharp salute.

************************************************** ********

[BannedUser01]

you should write a novel or something...