Lynette

When asked who the most famous magician in the Court of Fontaine is, audiences will almost certainly think of the stylish, vibrant Lyney and his stage presence.

But if you were to ask after its most renowned magic assistant, people would scratch their hands and be at quite a loss to answer.

The adulation is not for her, after all, nor is the resounding applause directed at her skill and presence. As an assistant, she needs only misdirect the audience at opportune moments, ensuring the spotlight stays on the protagonist.

Whether on or offstage, Lynette habitually hides behind Lyney, in shadows that neither lights nor compliments can penetrate.

For an assistant, keeping a low profile is a professional matter.

And as for a child of the "House"... being cloaked in shadow is how one survives. In their little team of three at the Hotel Bouffes d'ete, Lynette plays an essential role in making sure that their work runs smoothly. When Lyney's bold nature clashes with Freminet's cautiousness, instead of taking sides, Lynette stands back and analyzes the situation in a calm and collected manner. She resolves their disputes by helping them find a middle ground.

She's generally very quiet and is in the habit of constantly observing other members of her "family." If Lyney accidentally cut his finger in the middle of a performance, or Freminet suddenly looked downcast, Lynette would make a mental note of it. When she had a suitable opportunity, she'd be there with a bandage or a cup of tea.

She loves her "family" and her "family" love her. Waking up by the fireplace, she's become accustomed to the familiar sight of Lyney at the table practicing card tricks and Freminet cleaning the living room. It was in such a moment that she suddenly realized how long it had been since the memory of those sleepless nights of fearful anticipation had vanished — just like a lump of coal that had burned itself into oblivion.

When Lynette was young, she often heard stories about Visions from Lyney.

The protagonists of these tales seemed omnipotent, capable of summoning storms with a flick of a finger, dispelling dark haze with a puff of air.

Those were not meticulously prepared magic tricks, no — this was the realm of true miracles.

If only we had Visions too, Lynette often though.

Then they could turn magic tricks into real magic. They could pull food to fill their stomachs from hats, and fire to keep themselves warm. Lyney wouldn't have to constantly busy himself keeping them both alive.

But the gods never answered her prayers. In later days, she and Lyney would wander on, and after several twists and turns on the city streets and in noble mansions, they found a place to plant their feet under the aegis of their "Father."

Both of them knew how hard this chance was to come by, and so they endured the harsh training and supported each other through countless missions.

Reality had eroded their childish innocence all too early, and the dream of possessing a Vision, too, had fallen by the wayside of the past.

During a certain mission, they were dispatched to perform at a noble's mountain villa in order to steal incriminating evidence that their target had hidden in a study.

The mission itself was ordinary, and it went quite well. During their performance, the two would tamper with a window in the villa. Once it was over, they would be able to re-enter stealthily and make off with the evidence without a trace.

But just as they had succeeded, three flares went up in the forest outside the window — a message from their "family members" keeping watch.

Three flares meant the worst-case scenario: that the Maison Gardiennage was also targeting this person, and indeed had already dispatched forces to the scene.

If they retreated the way they came, they had a high chance of encountering Maison personnel, and if they were exposed as having conducted their mission in their guise as magicians, not only would they be doomed, but their "family members" would be implicated as well.

The voices outside the study were growing louder — if they wished to escape as quickly and stealthily as possible, they would have to take a risk.

The villa retreat was built against the mountain, and out the window was a cliff, beneath which was a swift river.

Lynette exchanged a glance with her brother, and without a word, they grasped each others' hands tightly, and leapt out the window.

The rippling waves below slammed into Lyney with a terrible crash.

He had attempted to absorb the impact with his shoulder just as they impacted, protecting his sister once again, but the impact with the water swallowed his consciousness.

Desperate, Lynette grabbed onto a floating piece of wood, and by sheer dint of will managed to drag her unconscious brother to shore, coughing up water as she struggled on.

Fighting the searing pain in her lungs, she checked his condition in a panic. He was deathly pale, his eyes squeezed shut — there was none of his usual vitality to be seen.

She hugged him tightly to prevent his temperature from dropping further, even as she surveyed her surroundings. The forest was dark, and in that lightless night the twisted trees seemed ever more malevolent.

She called his name softly, hoping that he might stand up again with a grin, just as he had in their prior performances. But this time, the only reply she received was his fragile and weak breathing.

The loneliness and fear of that fateful night so many years ago seized her heart once again.

It had been so long, and they'd been through so much — she'd grown from that, or so she thought.

Why, then, were things just like before? Could she do nothing but wait for someone to defend her? As she trembled in the darkness?

No. No. It should have been different. They had made so many miracles by their own hand, conquered so many obstacles.

...She had wished to stand behind him, supporting him, back to back, shoulder to shoulder.

The Maison personnel could be patrolling nearby. She dared not call out to their "family members," nor could they stay here.

The only thing she could do now was grasp Lyney's hand tightly, and haul him onto her shoulders.

If she could not see the way forward, then she would hear it.

Extending her ears as high as she could, she listened out for even the slightest wisp of wind.

And the wind sang through the branches and through the bushes, and brushed against her face... and they gradually painted for her a blurry scene.

Lynette groped forward in the dark, the thorns along the path piercing her skin and staining her clothes red.

Slowly, the sight before her eyes became clearer. Perhaps her ears had grown used to the wind, or her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, but her steps grew more agile, more resolute.

In this stage without spotlights, in this performance without plaudits, Lynette had at last become the star.

As the rays of dawn darted into the woods, Lynette carried her brother back to the rendezvous point of their "family," only to encounter someone unexpected — their "Father" had personally made the trip down last night.

Using the last of her strength, Lynette retrieved the sodden evidence from her bosom, but before she could hand it over, her legs gave out, taking Lyney down with her in the fall.

"Father" grabbed them both, allowing the incriminating information to fall to the earth and be soiled.

"Sleep now. You've retrieved... a far more valuable prize."

A Vision, reflecting both the dawn sun and the twins' sleeping faces, hung at Lynette's waist, glowing silently.