Night fell over the city of Montelimar. The town is famous for its local nougat dessert, notably referenced in The Beatles' Savoy Truffle. A lone riverboat floated on the banks of the serene Rhone river. The silent night was broken up by an irregular tapping – the sound of Michaela Newton walking up to the water.

A sudden cracking noise pierced the still air. Michaela stopped short of the boat's extended platform. She scanned the area behind her, and noticed an orange cat sitting on a pile of dead branches. Michaela exhaled, and stepped aboard the Proud Mary.

Virginia Clearwater dipped a paintbrush in a silver pail of water. She sighed. Her portrait of Mistress Newton was beautiful, but it hardly approached the real thing. The nearby door creaked open, and slammed shut. Michaela threw herself onto Virginia's bed with a groan.

“Rough day, mistress?”

“Rough week,” moaned Michaela. “Tolk turned traitor on Ray, so he had to be eliminated. J-Lo proved to be useless, so I had to cut her off too. Egon is MIA – he's supposedly hunting down Geovana, but I just saw her in Nimes, so he's either died or completely lost the trail. And now Leo's been killed in action too. I built up a cohort of Cherubs – people I believed I could trust to help reach my goal. How did it all come crashing down?!”

Virginia slid onto the bed behind Michaela, wrapping her arm around her idol. “Don't be so broken up about it~!” cooed Virginia. “Arca Foederis started with just the two of us, and that's all we need to achieve our goal. And if I'm being honest... I never trusted the other Cherubs anyway.”

Michaela cracked a weak smile. “You're right, Virginia,” said Michaela, caressing her comrade's face. “Our platoon of Cherubs was ultimately useless. Proud Mary... the power of your love is all I need to reach my ultimate desire.”

The floorboards creaked. Michaela and Virginia stared at each other in confusion. They looked over their shoulders, and saw a figure through the crack under Virginia's door.

“That little-” grumbled Virginia. “Is Edvard spying on us?!”

“I don't think so,” mused Michaela. “The footsteps are spaced too far apart.”

Michaela slipped out of Virginia's arms, and crawled over to the door. Michaela slid up into a kneeling position, and put her ear up to a wall near the exit. Michaela gently rested her left hand on the moulding. There was a loud snap, as a sharp pain shot through Michaela's arm. Michaela gasped in agony, and shakily lifted her left hand to her face. The fingers were bent in strange directions – each digit broken in multiple places.

January 1st, 1986. Perth, Australia.

Michaela Angela Newton was born in a small hospital room. She was a healthy baby – measuring at 47 cm long, and weighing 3.5 kg. Michaela let out a wail as a strange man pulled her to his chest.

“Aww, she's upset!” said Michaela's father with a chuckle. “Shhhh... it's ok, Michaela. What do you want, sweetie bun?”

Suddenly, the newborn stopped crying. She lifted her pudgy fingers, and trained them towards a nearby bed, where her mother lay recovering.

Whenever this story was told at family gatherings, they would always laugh at the coincidence of that day. A random arm movement from an infant, bringing the room to a stunned silence. After all, what sort of baby has that level of self-awareness? To know exactly what she desires from the minute of her birth?

= = = = = = = = = =

“Happy birthday, Emmy!”

A dark room was lit up by eight flickering flames. A girl with braided hair blew out her candles, leaving only lightly glowing embers. The lights flicked on, and a group of children gathered around. One by one, each child handed Emmy a wrapped present, and received a slice of cake from Mrs. Nemme in return.

A young Michaela handed over a gift bag – reused from her birthday the previous year.

“Yeah, yeah, just put it in the pile,” grumbled Emmy.

“Emmy...” warned her mother.

“What?!” spat Emmy. “She's the one who always brings the cheap presents!”

“Emmy, manners! Thank Michaela for the gift!”

Emmy rolled her eyes and sighed. “THANK you, Michaela...”

Emmy turned back towards her guest. Michaela was staring back at her, eyes open in shock. The gift bag slipped from Michaela’s hands, and she turned to run towards the bathroom.

“I didn't do it! I didn't do it!” gasped Michaela, as she dashed around a corner.

“What a weirdo,” mumbled Emmy, as she turned to her friends.

The whims of a child have the potential to be all-consuming.

If Emmy were to open her presents, she would see some of the most expensive items from her wishlist – an electronic diary, a shark tooth necklace, and three play-sets inspired by recent Disney movies. A pony handler in the backyard was busy packing up from the party's rides. An upstairs closet contained a secret present from Mr. and Mrs. Nemme – a brand new electric guitar, with a glittering pink coat of paint. Emmy stared at her presents, thoughts racing through her head as to their contents. All the while, a small flame was growing up the ends of her braided hair.

The whims of a child have the potential to be all-consuming.

= = = = = = = = = =

January 12th, 2000. Michaela Newton, age 14. The blue-haired teenager was reading from a textbook, trying to get any last-minute studying she could within the five minutes before her exam. Michaela looked up from her book and saw a boy at the drinking fountain. Michaela recognized him immediately as Eagles – two years ahead of her, and the star of the school maths team. Eagles had a chiseled jaw, and perfectly coiffed black hair. But of course, a boy like Eagles could never give Michaela the time of day...

The pressure in the drinking fountain changed suddenly, and a blast of water sprayed onto Eagles's uniform. Eagles yanked his hand back, turning the fountain off. He stared down at his dripping shirt and groaned. Eagles pulled open his shirt buttons, revealing a pair of rippling pectorals. As he finished removing his dripping shirt and tie, he suddenly noticed the girl staring at him from across the hall.

“Oh, hey there!” said Eagles with a friendly wave. “You're Ollie's sister, right? Michaela?”

Michaela's face turned bright red. She spun around and hurried down the hall, towards her class.

It was a sweltering day in Perth. The air conditioner in the back of the maths classroom was working overtime, and the dripping condensation formed a small puddle next to Michaela's desk. Miss Celine wrote a time on the blackboard, and Michaela flipped over her exam paper. Her eyes glazed over – she barely remembered what she read ten minutes earlier. The only thing in her mind was the sight of Eagles's glistening muscles.

“Damn it, focus!” thought Michaela. “I... if I want to spend time with Eagles, I need this! I need to score well on this exam so I can get on the school maths team!”

A quick movement caught Michaela's attention. A fairy made of water crawled onto the desk. Michaela’s jaw dropped in shock, but the fairy put a finger to her own mouth – Michaela needed to be quiet. The fairy picked up Michaela's pen, and opened the cap. Michaela stared in amazement as the fairy started scribbling equations in a perfect replica of Michaela's handwriting.

= = = = = = = = = =

“I'm sorry if I interrupted your busy schedules with this meeting,” said Miss Celine. “But, well... it's about your daughter.”

Mr. and Mrs. Newton sat across from the maths teacher, looks of horror growing on their faces. “D-did she do something wrong?” gasped Mrs. Newton.

“Well, not exactly,” said Miss Celine. “It's rather... she's gotten a perfect score on every exam I've administered in the past three months. Even though her record says she's an average student, ever since we started on geometry proofs, she's been top of the class.”

“What are you implying?!” spat Mr. Newton. “That Michaela might be cheating?!”

“Not at all!” sputtered the maths teacher. “To be honest, I thought that too, at first... which is why I started giving her separate exams. Exams with university-level geometry questions, questions that I came up with on my own without writing down an answer key. And she still answered every problem correctly. Not with the proper syntax, naturally, but I can't expect her to know the style conventions she hasn't been taught. My hypothesis is that your daughter... is a genius. She's spent most of her life bored in her classes, coasting by on average grades. But now that the subjects have started getting more challenging, she's finally engaging with the coursework.”

“So you think we should try to get her into more advanced classes?”

“More than that,” said Miss Celine. “Have you ever heard of Winminster Academy? It's a boarding school in England. Winminster is incredibly expensive, but some of the best education in the world can be found there. They currently have an assistance program... if Michaela passes an aptitude test, the school will probably pay for her full tuition and board.”

Michaela's parents turned to each other. “I... I'm not sure...”

Miss Celine stood up. “Sleep on it. And... I know, it can be hard sending your daughter halfway across the world for any reason. But I can tell... there's something special with Michaela. She's one-of-a-kind. Try not to squander this opportunity.”