Aurora, goddess of chaos, had never made a single mess of her own. Her rainbow hair sparkled as she chased after Liora again, a step behind, laughing at trouble that was never hers. Liora's chaos slid right off Aurora like water. Fires, floods, angry crowds — none of it touched her. That was the problem. Aurora wanted her own chaos. She just had no idea what it looked like. She found Liora barefoot on the roof of the round wooden house, the one that rolled on giant wheels. Liora was dangling a jar of glitter over the edge, grinning at the townspeople below. "Watch this," Liora said. "They'll be picking sparkles out of their soup for a week." Aurora climbed up beside her. "No. I don't want to watch your chaos. I want mine." Liora tipped her head. "Then make some." "How?" Aurora asked. "Everything I do turns into helping you. I'm the girl who hands you the matches." Liora shrugged and dropped the jar. Glitter burst across the crowd. People shrieked and swatted at the air. Aurora watched, and felt nothing. Not even a spark. It wasn't hers. Something below the house moved. A strange creature crawled out from under the great wheels. It had a duck's flat bill, a snail's spiral shell, and octopus arms that gripped the wooden spokes. It blinked up at Aurora. "Don't," Liora warned. "That thing lives under the roundhouse. It only listens to whoever wakes it." Aurora looked at the wheels. She looked at the sleeping creature. An idea took shape, and this one was hers alone. "What if the house rolled?" Aurora said. Liora's grin faltered. "It's parked. It's been parked for years." Aurora climbed down the ladder. She knelt by the creature and touched one cool tentacle. "Push," she whispered. "As hard as you can." The creature curled its arms around the nearest spoke and heaved. The giant wheel groaned. Then it turned. The round house rocked, tipped, and began to roll down the slope. Liora scrambled for a handhold on the roof. "Aurora! Stop it!" "I can't!" Aurora shouted, running alongside. "I don't want to!" The house picked up speed. It bounced over a fence and crushed a market stall. Fruit flew. Townspeople scattered, screaming Aurora's name for the first time. Not Liora's. Hers. Joy exploded in Aurora's chest, bright and dizzy and real. This was chaos she had built with her own hands. The creature clung to the wheel, riding along, delighted. The house rolled straight toward the town square, where the Mayor stood frozen in its path. Liora hung from the roof, glaring down. "You wanted your own chaos," she yelled. "Well, congratulations. Now you can't stop it either." Aurora slowed to a walk, breathing hard, smiling. She had her own chaos now. And a runaway house full of it, aimed at the one person in Glitterville who punished people for exactly this.

The roundhouse thundered downhill, and the Mayor stood right in its path. Aurora ran alongside the great wheels, her joy curdling into panic. She could not steer it. The building had no reins, no brakes, nothing to grab. And the old woman in the square did not move. The Mayor was the first chaos goddess, older than Liora, older than Aurora. She had made messes before the town had a name. Now she looked tired of all of it. She lifted one wrinkled hand toward the rolling house, as if she could scold it into stopping. Aurora had watched this woman punish troublemakers for years. She was about to be crushed by the biggest trouble Aurora had ever made. "Do something!" Liora shrieked from the roof, clinging to the curved shell. Aurora dropped to her knees beside the wheels. The spiral-shelled creature rode the spokes, its octopus arms wrapped tight, its duck bill grinning. It only listened to her. She had told it to push. She could tell it something else. "Turn!" Aurora shouted. "Not stop. Turn!" The creature blinked. It slid three arms to one side of the wheel and heaved. The near wheel dragged. The far wheel kept spinning. The whole roundhouse groaned and swung, its smooth shell tilting hard. Aurora threw herself flat. The house missed the Mayor by an arm's length. It plowed past her, tore through a fence, and slammed into the side of a hill. Wood cracked. Wheels splintered. The roundhouse rocked once and stopped, half-buried in dirt. Liora tumbled off the roof into a hedge, sparkling and furious. Dust settled. The Mayor lowered her hand. She was not crushed. She turned and looked straight at Aurora, still kneeling in the mud beside the creature. "You," the Mayor said. Her voice was dry and ancient. "You woke the thing under my house." Aurora stood. Her heart pounded, but not with fear. The chaos had been hers. She had made it, and then she had bent it, and no one else had touched it. "I did," Aurora said. The Mayor studied her a long moment. Then she almost smiled. "I stopped chasing my own storms a hundred years ago. Too old for it." She stepped over broken planks toward Aurora. "But you steered that. On your first try." Liora climbed out of the hedge, glitter dripping. "She nearly killed you!" "She didn't," the Mayor said, still watching Aurora. "That's the difference." She jabbed a bony finger at the wrecked roundhouse. "You broke my house, girl. So now you'll answer to me for it. Come at dawn." She turned and walked away, leaving Aurora with a ruined building, a happy creature, and a summons. Aurora looked at her muddy hands. She had steered chaos and saved the Mayor. And she had just earned the attention of the oldest goddess in Glitterville, who now wanted something from her.