by Elizabeth Lo
Lafayette closes his eyes.
“Ah…” says the madwoman. “I can’t think anymore… It’s going away… I’m going away…”
She gasps and shudders.
“Don’t worry,” Lafayette says. “Today, you, me, and Midnight will all be free in some way. You can be sure of that.”
“Soren only wanted me to be free,” she whimpers. “So I should set him free too…”
Lafayette studies the decaying woman.
Is she feeling guilt?
“You know, that Stone…” she says, still continuing on. Her limbs start twitching and moving. Her fingers look confused; her face is expressionless. “You want to know what it does? It’ll show her an ideal world. Just like it did for the First King. You know the legend. A world… so real… she won’t want to leave. Why do you think this Stone has so much magic? It didn’t get it from nothing. All it is really is just a cursed rock with the souls of trapped people within it, living whatever illusion it shows them… There is no room for being wishy-washy. Even if she doesn’t actually want to, she needed a reason to do it, right? That’s why. That’s why!”
“How do you know that?” he asks.
“Because I’m the queen,” She breathlessly cackles at him. “It’s taught to only the highest magicians. Of course, it never reached your ears.”
She laughs more. Her body straightens up now with the strength of delirium powering her muscles.
“I’m so—Where have—What hap—I’m back!” she shrieks, jerking her head from side to side. Mixes of laughter, crying, and screaming come out of her mouth at the same time.
He and Annabelle watch along silently.
“Impact… purpose… all those… hilarious jokes,” she says, laughing at him once more. “The biggest joke of them all? HAPPINESS.”
There’s a ringing in his ears now, but an even louder ringing in his mind.
“Oh, just shut up already,” he mutters.
Limping forward, he grabs her head and drives it, pulsing with heat, onto the exposed marble floor. Just enough to knock her out. His strength has disappeared—from both his wounds, but also from the fact that he can’t bring himself to deal a lethal blow even to this person he hates. Somehow, it feels too late to hold onto hatred.
The air is filled with silence again, leaving him to the buzzing of his mind.
The redhead wordlessly holds her boyfriend’s head tighter in her lap. Rising unsteadily and nudging the queen’s head just to be sure, Lafayette can’t help but feel just a tad bittersweet watching the unfortunate couple.
“Is he still alive?” he asks, quietly.
The girl gives a faint nod.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.
He nods, runs his hand again through his hair, deliberating on what he should do.
Maybe, he should’ve just told Midnight what he thought before she had marched into the Stone room.
No. It doesn’t matter anymore at this point.
Orion, he says. Just one more time.
Yes, Your Highness, Orion grumbles, but he does the little trick anyway.
Complete bodily control. It seems Orion has a talent for it despite his aversion to it.
It’s as if Lafayette’s breath has been stolen from him. His entire body tenses… except for one measly finger. All his energy is only able to come out through one little finger. It’s satisfying feeling this restriction again over his monster self. It’s reassuring to know he can still be controlled.
Okay. Stop, he says. And he regains feeling again. Hmm…
It’s a satisfying feeling. A reassuring feeling.
He doesn’t bother with the safety on the gun. Making his way down the hallway, he pulls out his remaining bullet from his pocket and twirls it around like a prayer marble the Thyrmian ministers use to calm themselves.
He finally faces the painting of Fantastique once more, breathless. Even he’s a bit amazed at how he can move after taking a fireball to the chest. His wounds are pesky. Normally, in this state, he would’ve assigned his tasks to someone more capable and refrained from moving unless necessary, but this is a job that he needs to do himself. Plus, thanks to Orion being there, he won’t die any time soon.
“Watch her,” he says impassively to the girl.
Annabelle decides not to follow his order and trots over to him, the worry written plainly on her face.
“Do you think Middie will be all right?” she asks anxiously. “Should I go instead?”
“Why are you nervous?” he says, not meeting her eyes. “And no, I’m going.”
“I mean… I don’t know what she’s going through in there… and she’s… going to die soon. I hope she doesn’t suffer any more than she has…”
Lafayette sighs, studying the disintegrated portion of the painting.
“She probably will,” he says. “Suffer more, that is.”
“What?” Annabelle snaps sharply, abruptly halting her bouncy movement “What did you say?
“Ah…” he says, glancing off to the side. “I mean… there’s no way this event will be scot-free of suffering… Especially the curse-breaking part.”
Annabelle’s eyes smolder at him, but he ignores her, approaching the door.
“How can you be so heartless?” she demands. An iron grip clamps onto his arm. “I thought you two were… friends of some sort? Why are you so… relaxed about her dying?”
He glances at her while reaching out, touching the frame of the painting.
“Again. Why are you so… unrelaxed?” he counters.
“Because I care,” she growls.
His eyes narrow on her.
“Do you?”
She bristles in anger.
Just like he thought. She’s also given up on Midnight. Traded her away for someone else.
“I don’t think she shouldn’t break the curse,” the Aroma hisses. “But I at least want to acknowledge the pain that she’ll have to go through in order to do so. You, on the other hand… Are you so detached from death that you can just pull the trigger on your friends without blinking an eye?”
“In a way,” he answers, trailing off as he inspects the door. “You could also say that I’m just very accepting of death.”
Her eyes turn to deadly slits.
“I thought you cared for Mid. But clearly you don’t, do you? You just see her as another one of your pawns!”
His own hand shoots up and grasps her wrist in his own steel grip.
“You don’t know anything,” he snarls in a low voice.
Her grip on him slackens, and she glares at him but struggles to find any more words to throw at him.
His freed arm reaches behind him, finding a give in the frame of the painting.
Releasing her hand, he spins around, swings the painting open, and practically punches the brick in, letting it slide open. He steps in and glances back at her.
“Here.” He throws her the last bullet. “For a good luck charm.”
She stares at it in shock. The rock slides shut, drowning out that Aroma girl’s yells.
A smirk emerges on his face. Of course, he won’t use it to shoot himself. That would be silly.
And down he goes, the echo of the stairs reminiscent of the sound of steps up to the gallows.
He arrives in front of two large mahogany doors at the bottom of the stairs.
What did Midnight feel when she stood before these doors?
He swings them open and takes in the room. A pillar-like stone table in the middle of a smooth, tiled room holding a wooden box letting out an entrancing green glow all around the room.
Fantastique’s Stone.
What did she feel when she looked at it?
It’s a circular room, with a dome arching overhead. Midnight lays unconscious at the foot of the table, near the center of it all. He can barely make out some windows near the top of the room.
What were her thoughts as she stood before the beginning of the end?
He closes
his eyes, sending one last message to Orion, who is still quiet, yet slightly more disturbed than usual.
Orion, he says. You ready?
Chapter Thirty
Midnight
My eyes squint against the blinding light and refocus on where I’ve been transported.
I find myself in a very familiar place.
Closed curtains. Four walls. A ceiling. A mirror off to the left and a wardrobe off to the right.
A bed is behind me. I don’t have to look back to know.
This is my room.
And yet, this isn’t my room. It’s different. There isn’t a pile of books barricading the door anymore. No papers are scattered about everywhere, or clothes strewn across the floor. Somehow… the entire room seems clearer… and colorful, even if it’s pitched in darkness with light barely peeking through my pale curtains.
My hands seem bigger. I think I’m taller, too, because when I stand up and look down, the floor is further away than I remember.
The door snaps open, making me jump. A silver-haired boy walks in.
“Artemis…?”
“Mid,” the person says, a smile on his face. His voice makes my heart swell and sink at the same time. No, not Artemis. Is that…? “Time to wake up.”
He crosses the room and slides the curtains open, letting light flood into my room.
“Black?” I whisper.
“What?” he asks, chuckling. “Are you still sleepy? Don’t worry, I’ve got breakfast ready.”
He looks at me. Silvery blue eyes. And yet, his face perfectly matches Black’s face.
“Neptune!” a voice calls downstairs. “Did you get your sister up?”
It’s been so long since I’ve heard any of these voices.
“Yeah, she’s up!” he calls back. “Come on, Mid. You can’t hide in the dark all morning.”
“Right…” I say, trailing off as I watch him walk out of my room.
What’s going on?
I walk over to the mirror. Didn’t I do this just two days ago? It seems it’s been pushed off to the side now. But I don’t believe it. My eyes are… my eyes are gray. Stormy, dark gray. The way they’re supposed to be.
I touch the mirror where my eyes are reflected. It isn’t Decomposed away anymore.
“You didn’t yell at me for waking you up this morning,” that voice says from my door again. I spin around facing the stranger. Is it Neptune or Black?
“You were even awake when I came up. Is… there something up?” he asks.
“Where… where am I? Who are you?” I turn back to the mirror. “Who am I?”
His eyes narrow in suspicion. He’s just slightly taller than what I remember, too.
“Is… this some sort of joke? What’s going on?” He steps into the room. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“I-I don’t know… My eyes… My eyes are… normal. And you… your hair’s not black, and your eyes aren’t red. This… whole place…”
His eyes soften, and he walks forward, hugging my stuttering self to him.
“Shh… it’s okay. I’m sure it was only a nightmare,” he whispers, rubbing my head. “Whatever happened in it… it wasn’t real. Everything’s okay.”
“It… it was all a dream?” I stammer.
Everything… Everything was just a dream? That can’t be.
When I look up at Neptune, suddenly those memories of spending time in the dark, and a blackened version of Neptune hanging from the gallows, and my trip with the teal-haired officer, the nuagepanthère, the silver-haired prince, the red-haired assassin, and the white-haired queen… they all start fading away, fogging into the back of my mind.
This world feels vibrantly real. Vivid in my mind and to my body. Neptune’s body heat warms me. I can feel the softness in my shirt and the warmth from the light illuminating my room.
Could it all have just been a dream?
“Now. Come on,” he says, pulling me out of the room. “Get yourself washed up and then come eat. It’ll clear your mind.”
I stand, dazed in the bathroom, still mesmerized by my reflection in the mirror. There’s no fuchsia glow coming from my eyes anymore. A gunmetal gray. Like Father’s.
Neptune… has a silvery sheen in his hair just like our dad and me, but he has those pale Frost elements in him as well. He still looks like an exotic person even when he’s normal.
My life in that other world is already fading away in my mind. It’s like a distant memory now. I can’t even remember… oh, what was his name again? That Falcon guy… I can’t even remember his face anymore.
The dream is disappearing fast, just like it usually does.
When I go downstairs, I’m greeted with warm smiles from a sunlit dining table.
“Oh, Midnight. You’re awake, finally,” Mother says laughingly. There are deeper grooves etched in her face now, but that twinkle in her eye is still there. Her short white hair is still cut to a bob as always, making her look younger than she really is. She always preferred it that way.
“Neptune said you had a nightmare?” Father says, calmly, the newspaper propped up on the table.
“Um… yeah. I guess so.”
“About what?” he asks, genuine interest in his voice. My father always wanted to be an artist, too, and dreams and surreal things fascinate him.
“There was… there was this curse,” I start slowly, trying to call up the memory again. It felt so vivid. Those moments walking down those steps to those large double oak doors. The green light from that box… Those moments talking with someone in a cave in the woods…
Those moments alone and in the dark.
“I was trying to break it,” I continue. “But in order to break it… I would have to die forever… And my eyes are—were fuchsia. Like… faintly glowing fuchsia. And somehow that correlated with the ability to undo the curse…”
“Oh! How funny!” Mother exclaims, laughing.
“Yeah… I mean… sort of. It was… really… scary because I…” I stop.
I sit down at the table.
“Because…?” Father prompts.
“Because I…” There was one truly terrifying thing that shook my heart as I stepped down those stairs. What was it? “I… can’t remember.”
Without realizing, my fists have been clenched together this whole time.
Neptune looks over at me from where he’s putting some glasses and cups away, worry catching his face.
“It was… it was really vivid,” I stumble on with my words. “There was… a… Something…”
“Yes, honey…” Mother says, patting my hand and rolling her eyes. “That dream must’ve shaken you up…”
“Yes… right.” I force my hands apart, and I pick up my fork, looking at the meal in front of me, my appetite waning already.
“You know,” Mother continues. “You were always such a serious girl, Middie. You should cheer up.”
Cheer up.
Right.
No… It can’t have been a dream. My mind is foggy, but no dream is ever that vivid. No dream ever tricks me into thinking it actually happened like that—that I’ve always been something like that. No… this can’t be right…
I still remember those stairs in that “dream.” The sound of my own breath bouncing around the walls. The… the…
That’s it.
The truly terrifying thing walking down those stairs was…
The regret.
Neptune sits down, joining the conversation.
“Midnight,” he says calmly. “We’ve talked about this, already.”
We have?
“We keep telling you,” he continues. “That you aren’t useless or worthless or whatever you keep thinking you are.”
“Who am I?” I ask.
“You’re… Midnight. My little sister. Come on now, stop acting weird.”
But that only sinks me a little further down.
“No. In the vast eye of the universe, who am I?”
“Midnight,” he says, bli
nking in confusion.
No. You’re supposed to say “I don’t know. Who is anyone?” or some sort of confusing thing like that. You’re supposed to be studying already at this hour—or burying yourself into more books.
You’re supposed to ask me what’s wrong.
But this is my brother. My brother, whom I always made smile. The brother who would work endlessly just for everyone else around him to be happy.
Right?
I can’t remember anything clearly. I can only remember emotions or stray snapshots of moments. But those emotions are so crystal clear, they practically tickle my tongue. Every time Neptune speaks, my head spins. I can’t look at Mother because the sight of her white hair somehow makes me feel queasy.
It’s nothing. I’m fine.
Look up, Midnight. There’s nothing to be afraid of.
“Marcie is coming over this afternoon,” Neptune says, picking up his fork and assuming that everything is resolved.
“Oh. Right,” I say, forcing a smile.
So I’m still friends with Marcie.
I can’t remember anything. Not from that world, not from this world.
Something’s wrong.
But the air is cozy and comfortable. Is there really anything wrong? Or is it all in my head?
I scoop some food in my mouth.
“Everything’s all right, Mid,” Neptune says across from me.
Yeah, see?
Something about this doesn’t feel wrong.
This place feels content. Peaceful. The rhythm of daily life is already taking ahold of me. I could close my eyes and forget that “dream” right now if I wanted to.
A click sounds behind me. The door?
No, the door is closed. No one’s touching it.
SNAP!
Someone just snapped their fingers right by my head. I yelp and whirl around.
There’s no one there.
“What’s wrong, Midnight?” Mother asks.
“Is she finally going crazy?” Father says in a mock exasperated tone.
“Did you not hear that?” I had almost knocked over my cup of water. “There was a…”
Mid, a voice says, echo-y through my mind. You should be in the Stone’s world right now. Are you there?
What?