When Night Breaks

by Janella Angeles

  Heat flashed across Daron’s cheeks. She hadn’t used that tone with him since he was much, much younger, and those same old boyish nerves kicked into gear. The urge to hide, after he’d angered her for some sort of trouble.

  The feeling died as quickly as it sprang. He was not a child who didn’t understand. He saw too clearly, and he was not going to take any scolding from his aunt, who was in no position to judge.

  “Lying to the people to cover what you don’t want them to know is not protection,” Daron ground out. The way it all sounded when he spoke it out loud sent more nausea down his throat. “Erasing what happened is not a solution. That’s an avalanche just waiting to collapse.”

  “Would you rather our world collapse, then?” Aunt Cata stressed, her nostrils flaring. “We take no pleasure in deceit, but we can’t take any chances.”

  Daron shook his head. It was chilling, the madness and logic of it all. All to keep the gate everyone knew about a secret. No secret could be worth so much trouble. “What is so wrong with it?”

  Aunt Cata frowned, deep in thought. “Truthfully, no one knows. We’re only meant to guard it, to ensure no one opens or tries to open it ever again.”

  “So, not even you know?”

  “Our orders are to guard that gate using any means necessary. Now you know why,” she snapped. “How Alastor figured how to find that gate or what he did to it, but it created all manner of cracks and holes in our world. For magic and magicians,” she said. “But he never succeeded in opening it completely. Otherwise we’d be living in a much different world.”

  A stale victory, for if what happened then still affected them now, there was no knowing what more would grow from the cracks and holes left behind.

  “No, but at least now we know how to stop the fire before it starts. Before one fool’s decision devastates so many,” she said, eyes closed. “In all my years as a Patron, I’ve never seen a city bleed like that.”

  Zarose. Daron almost couldn’t bear to listen any longer. To see Aunt Cata like this, hurting from a memory he had the luxury of never knowing. There was no agreeing with it, but it was a luxury all the same to live in ignorance. A luxury his aunt would never know.

  All his life, he thought she’d kept herself like a wall of stone to remain impenetrable as a fortress. Though maybe wearing such armor wasn’t to protect herself from war. Perhaps it was all to keep the war inside from getting out.

  Daron stared at her hand across from him, gloveless, which was rare. Elegant yet weathered hands of tawny-brown skin, a mere shade paler than his. When he was much younger, he always dreaded holding that hand on outings, for he’d always found it to be too cold.

  He wished for nothing more than to take her hand now, knowing she would only pull away the moment he reached for it.

  The silence weighed over them heavily, before Daron pressed forward, hesitant. “Did you ever find him?”

  He was grateful to see movement as she shook her head instantly. “It was difficult identifying the dead by face, but their hands were all marked. It was how we figured he was targeting the families. Half circles on both hands that came together as one, stars inked into palms, squares stamped on the tops of hands, and triangles across the knuckles—his own family and recruits, even,” she said, her lips flattening in a grim line. “We searched everyone bearing dark triangles, but if he was lost to that wreckage like the rest of them, then at least those families can rest peacefully.”

  The image forced Daron to straighten immediately. Dark triangles. The detail pulled at his chest, the mayor’s words returning.

  I know him. We all do.

  “Aunt Cata,” he started, carefully. “I’ve seen marks like that on someone before.”

  She turned her hawkish gaze on him. “Yes, that mad magician. I caught that.”

  Daron nodded, his heart close to bursting from his chest. Even though Lottie wanted none of the Patrons’ help in their search, everything was different now. His aunt knew what the rest of the world did not. She would bring them no dead ends. “What the mayor said was true,” he added. “On the last night of Spectaculore, there was a man who—”

  “Yes, we know,” Aunt Cata cut in swiftly. “Many reports have already confirmed the presence of an unknown magician matching his description. We’re already on it so worry. You won’t have to be too concerned about it soon enough.”

  The reassurance felt hollow. He’d hoped, in vain, to convince her otherwise, but it was hard to change a person when they firmly believed they were right.

  A quick three-beat knock sounded at the door.

  With a small gasp, all the life slammed back into Aunt Cata as she shot up from her seat, springing into action. “That would be my team lead.” She rushed across the room, fixing back her hair in the process. “I’ll be debriefing for much of the evening, but if you’re—”

  “Does it matter if I say no?” Daron rose slowly, watching her fret. “If I don’t want to forget?”

  His aunt stilled in place, her hand just about to reach for the white coat on the wall hook. He wondered if she might lie again. Or just leave cold, no explanation.

  “I must do what I came here to do, Daron. And now you understand why.” Aunt Cata took her coat off its hook, slipping her arms through the pristine white sleeves. “From what it sounds like, Spectaculore was a mess. And it’ll only get worse.”

  Erased.

  Forgotten.

  “Is that what you call it?” Daron laughed bitterly. Forgetting Spectaculore meant forgetting everything it brought him. The people he’d grown close to, the city routes he could walk in his sleep. The good days, the bad days, and the nights that made him feel alive.

  And Kallia.

  His eyes closed, as though he could hold onto every moment, every memory.

  “If this is your solution, then why tell me?” he asked, his breath ragged in quiet desperation. “Why not just take everything now and be done with it?”

  The truth will turn people into monsters.

  This one certainly would, and he’d make sure of it. That sliver of sadness in his aunt was all the sign he needed to know she wouldn’t go through with it. Not now, not with him. Even she still had enough of a heart to hesitate.

  “You could shout it out the window right now, and you’d still be competing with every other headline flooding the world.”

  The back of Daron’s neck prickled at Aunt Cata’s too-calm voice as she pulled out the white gloves from her pocket. “As soon as our affairs here are in order, we’ll begin. It’s a painless process, and everything will return to normal soon after. You’ll see,” she continued, her gloves firmly on as she reached for the door. “Once we leave, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

  11

  Without anything to keep the time, Kallia tapped softly at the stem of her wineglass, if only to give herself something to do.

  She would’ve felt worse if the man didn’t love the sound of his own voice so much, especially when it came to detailing his own suffering.

  How they fight bares their weakness; what they say shows their downfall.

  One of Sanja’s lessons, from long ago. Regardless of the illusion, Kallia valued everything she’d learned from her old tutor. In fact, she appreciated all of her teachers, in whatever form they came. Because even without magic, they’d armed her with a collection of unseen weapons.

  So Kallia listened, and waited.

  Watchful as a bird, she listened until she noticed.

  For someone who mourned his fragmented memory, all the pieces Roth glossed over against the parts he recounted to such a vivid degree told another story beneath the story.

  Kallia remained as rapt with attention as an audience member, waiting to see what it was.

  “It felt like death, ten times over.” Roth frowned into his still-empty cup, letting it hover just by his lips.

  “Such a rare kind of blistering pain no magician could survive. And yet somehow, I awoke here, bleeding in the dar
kness.”

  “How terrible.” Kallia lifted a hand to her mouth, widening her eyes above it in shock while covering a short yawn.

  All she cared to know more about was the mirror. A terror beyond any beast imaginable. Kallia would’ve preferred walking through glass, if given the choice. But if that object had forced Roth’s entry into this world, as she suspected, then it must have the ability to work the opposite way around, too.

  She kept that card close to her chest. There was no greater weapon than knowing exactly what someone wanted.

  “It truly was. Until the devils found me.”

  Kallia stilled, just as she had when Jack mentioned it. As a child, they’d never frightened her. Devils who danced below the surface had always been just a silly myth.

  One walk outside these walls in that dark sea of dead-eyed magicians was all it took for that fear to finally take.

  “You have nothing to fear, my dear.” Roth noticed her pause, her shiver. The fool could slip back so seamlessly into the fox when something caught its interest. “They can’t hurt you in my city. Not under my watch.”

  Depending on a stranger’s benevolence for safety wasn’t all too reassuring, either. “Until today, they were just ridiculous lies tutors would tell me any time I burned their hair by accident.”

  Roth dragged out a laugh. “Contrary to parenting beliefs, they do not eat those who misbehave. But those old stories left out quite a bit.” He winked. “I was hardly conscious enough to make any judgements when they took me in, but for whatever reason, they saved me from becoming a corpse in the cold.” Deep in thought, he murmured, “Powerful yes, but not always so monstrous as we were led to believe.”

  Kallia’s brow furrowed slightly, remembering the magician that had attacked her out beyond the gates, one of many still out there. “What about what they do beyond the gates, then? Outside of these walls?”

  “Our arrangement with them is not perfect, I admit. But it’s fair, given the circumstances,” he said. “Technically, this is their world. They were here first. We’ve all just merely landed at their feet. And once we kept on coming, it was clear we needed some rules established. Boundaries set.”

  “Magicians own the city,” Kallia said in slow understanding. “Devils take the rest.”

  “Exactly.” Roth nodded, his smile dimming. “There’s no way of knowing where or when magicians will arrive to these parts, so the onus is on them to make the journey to our little oasis. And occasionally, some magicians will get lost on that journey and never make it.”

  Though crestfallen, he spoke as though it were inevitable, unable to be helped. And maybe it was. Maybe not every magician could be saved in a world like this, when it wasn’t theirs to begin with.

  Kallia hated to admit that not even she could’ve made it to the city on her own. Not without her power. So many times, the intricate traps had been laid out before her and she’d been so close to falling.

  Except Jack wouldn’t let her.

  He’d guided her, pulled her out of every snare that snapped its jaws open for her. Even when she didn’t ask for it, when he didn’t have to.

  It was a haunting thought, how many times he’d saved her.

  “Even still, we’ve had our truces in between. The devils who follow me are but little shades they’ve loaned me to uphold our city. Obedient servants, utterly speechless.” Roth grinned, as though relieved. “While they enjoy the shows we put on like an audience from afar.”

  Kallia tensed. “They watch?”

  Roth nodded. “Zarose may have locked them in, but they still have their fun wherever their limited reach allows on the true side,” he said. “Those harmless little whispers in your ear, through a mirror, maybe as you dream. They may not have our flair for spectacle, but they enjoy playing games and tricks just as we do.”

  Everything he’d listed set Kallia on edge, and the game finally became clear. The first was Spectaculore, which had been far from harmless. Though the threshold varied for most. After living among them for however long he’d been on this other side, Roth had developed some understanding with these beings. A fondness reserved for the wild stray animals who calmed under his palm.

  “But again, not to worry.” Roth clasped his hands together at her hesitation. “The devils don’t hunt in the city. Outside is the only gray area, but no one here needs to truly fear that. As long as they do their part and perform, it’s not the worst hand to be dealt. Stages galore and shows with no end, a spotlight that never dies. Endless applause, wherever you go.”

  Performer’s paradise. That was exactly the world that glimmered behind Roth’s eyes, every time he lit up.

  A world that seemed right out of her dreams. It was almost too easy to envision her very own poster lined in lights. Her own dressing room lined with flowers and furs where she’d get ready to earn the endless applause that would meet her every night.

  It was all around her, that dream, begging her to take it.

  “I can’t.” Kallia’s jaw tensed. “I don’t belong here.”

  Roth appeared confused. “Why not?”

  So many reasons, but power rose above the rest.

  It wasn’t a mask she could fake or pretend with everyone watching. To make it here would be an impossible act, in this sea of stars and performing magicians who currently held more magic in their fingernails than she had in her entire body.

  Without light, she was no star.

  And that wasn’t what she’d come here for.

  Kallia looked down at her fingers, tapping them softly against the desk’s edge. “And what if someone wishes to leave?”

  She almost felt sorry for asking from the way his face fell. As if the thought had only just occurred to him. It only further proved that as much as Kallia would’ve preferred holding this card to herself a little longer, it would’ve done little good. A king would see no reason to leave his kingdom.

  If she wanted to find a way out, she had to ask for it herself.

  “Beyond the city?” he asked, head tilted. “Usually no one ever chooses to go back out—”

  “Back to the true side,” she said firmly. “A mirror brought you here, same as it did to me. Surely there’s a way to go back.”

  After a brief stretch of silence, deep in thought, Roth looked toward his empty glass. “It’s not quite the same as you think,” he said. “Leaving is much harder than arriving. And there’s only so much we can do on this side.” Roth sighed. “We can watch and send illusions out through mirrors, though most times, they weaken all too easily and never last. The devils like to play their little games and small tricks, but despite their power, even that is a great effort for them.” He steepled his fingers together, resting them beneath his chin. “Just as Zarose did before, the only way magicians can return is through Zarose Gate. And I’m afraid that wouldn’t be wise here.”

  “How come?” The answer was so obvious, right there in the legend that had been staring them all in the face. “Have you even tried?”

  “My dear, what do you think brought me here in the first place?”

  Kallia’s stomach began to sink.

  “Because you see, that mirror that brought me here—that tore down a whole world behind me and ripped everything I knew to shreds—that was no mirror at all. Not one you’d want to meet your reflection in, anyway,” Roth added. “That was Zarose Gate.”

  Kallia froze in her seat, blood thundering in her ears.

  “So you see why that is not an option.” He inhaled sharply. “It never occurred to me that the gate we’ve all learned about was not a location, but something that could be called. In the presence of enough power, enough to blur the lines of the world.” Roth shook his head. “And bring so much terror with it.”

  Regret ran deep in his voice, that fall of Glorian back in his frown again. When Kallia had first seen this city of illusion, the level of detail and intricacy unnerved her. It was like walking through her home where everything was opposite. A ghost town forged entirel
y out of lights.

  Maybe all the lights were to drive out the ghosts that still haunted Roth.

  “Why bring me here if there’s no way out?”

  “I didn’t bring you here. You brought yourself, remember?” he pointed out. “Yes, those Patrons have a habit of hiding a lot. Not sure why, but all I can say is after I arrived here, others followed here on their own. Who knows what other strangeness the gate might’ve brought, but if you knew nothing about it until now, then the Patrons are certainly doing their job well.”

  Kallia clenched her fingers to stop them from shaking. She couldn’t help but think of the Patrons in Glorian now, her Glorian, around everyone she left behind.

  Doing their job well.

  She had to find the gate, and she had to get out. Now.

  “There has to be some way around it,” Kallia said. “Something that was designed as a gate in nature is a gate. One way or another.”

  If Zarose had done it before, then it could be done.

  “A double-edged sword like that is not something you want to face.” Roth frowned, pensive. “You can’t win against a mirror where you meet death in the reflection.”

  Kallia thought back to the last time she’d seen her reflection, in the Court of Mirrors of the Glorian she knew. Her form, fractured until shattering to nothing but pieces on the floor.

  “You can if you break it.”

  She could feel her heart pounding against her chest as the words flew from her lips. Nothing emboldened her more than when Roth’s eyes widened in almost comical shock, unblinking. “Not me,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “The mirrors favor you, Kallia.”

  Her blood turned cold at the way he watched her now, as if only just realizing something in the puzzle pieces fitting right behind his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “They always have,” he went on, breathless. “At first I thought it was because you were an Alastor. And a born magician, at that. But once those mirrors were able to find you again, they couldn’t stop following. That’s how you know a magician holds something extraordinary, if even glass bends to them.”