The Midnight Before Me

by Elizabeth Lo

  Then, Lafayette’s body slumps forward, exhaling as if he’d just resurfaced from underneath ocean waves.

  “Sorry, that’s it,” he says. “I can’t hold it for too long—staying out of the pilot seat is a little… chaotic.”

  “Right.” But somehow, this time, I don’t feel a gaping hole inside of me when Black leaves. That was the real Black. I know it this time.

  Lafayette smiles… just as a bit of his skin turns black and falls off. A little chip in his face—an indent, as if he was made of clay instead of flesh.

  “See? Isn’t that better?” he says. More bits of his face start falling off like burnt flakes of mica.

  I’m watching him chip away, piece by piece, as each and every black flake turns into dust just seconds after they fall off.

  “Looks like my time is up. The Stone is pushing me out.” His voice is fading too, getting further and further away as if someone’s pulling him away. “Good luck with the rest.”

  But, instead of chipping away completely, he fades, turning ghostly translucent into nothing but empty space.

  “Goodbye,” I whisper.

  All right, Mid. Get yourself together.

  I need to finish what I’ve started.

  Hmmm… Interesting, comes a strange voice that seems to come from miles away yet sounds right in my head. You rejected us. This is the second of your kind we’ve seen reject us. Only the red-eyed ones like to pursue us, it seems. But… you and us… are quite alike. Nothing but conscious enchantments. You and the last are quite similar as well… Both fighting to save people… and to also prove some form of worth to yourselves.

  “Are you… Fantastique’s Stone?”

  Perhaps, if that is your name for us.

  “Is it… is it true? That I’ll be able to die for real once I have you?”

  What do you mean, child? Do you not really die every time you die?

  “I mean… I always come back. I never actually die anymore.”

  Well, we suppose it depends on your definition of death. The last person of your kind to meet us said he really died, but people called him immortal. But… you say you don’t die and are immortal?

  “Well…” I stutter.

  Or… is that just what the others of your time say about you?

  “I… I’m not sure,” I mumble.

  You’re here for our magic.

  “Yes. I need it to—”

  We already know what you will use it for. All we ask is that you are sure in your decision. We will not give ourselves over to someone who doesn’t have true resolve.

  “I have resolve.” Even my own voice surprises me. Unwavering and unchanging. “Even if… I regret taking it… It is nevertheless something I have to do. But your magic… how do I even know you’ll work?”

  We are made up of souls accumulated over hundreds of years. Trapped within their false worlds, held by happiness or guilt… self-loathing or self-love. When you use our magic, we will drain them of theirs.

  “Will it… will it hurt them?” I ask, but I’m afraid of the answer.

  A laugh of sorts echoes around me. Amused, maybe.

  Perhaps. But by now, they’ve already turned into nothing but pure magic energy. That’s what happens when a soul leaves its body. It deteriorates into magic in order to return back to the world. Maybe as a person. Maybe as a tree or water droplet. Never as the same as it was before. The people within us have already… ceased to be. All that’s left is us, a collective echo of what all of them once were. Really, the content or the troubled ones are the easiest to capture… you seem to be neither. Perhaps that’s why you passed.

  “I see… Well then, what about you guys? Do you think it’s a bad thing to die?”

  We do not know, as we don’t have a concept of death anymore.

  “Do you think… a life should be meaningful before it… ends?” I don’t even know why I’m asking a magical multi-conscious entity this. What do I think I’ll get out of it?

  Can a life even be meaningful? they reply. It seems to us that you are asking all the wrong questions.

  “Then… What should I ask?”

  Why does a life need to be meaningful at all—and to whom should this meaning pertain? Those seem like far better questions to us. But it seems… you don’t have answers to any of those either.

  I laugh to fend off of the growing feeling of hollowness within me.

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I wish I could have found them.”

  Intriguing, the Stone comments to itself. All right, little girl. We will agree to serve you. But know that in return, we’ll devour your soul when your life meets its end. After all, your red-eyed kind always has such delicious souls. So… the next time you die, you will never “come back,” because there will be nothing left of you to come back to. That’s how your First King left this world, and it will be how you leave this world. So… do we have a deal?

  Take a deep breath, Mid.

  “Deal.”

  Let’s go break a curse then, shall we?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Midnight

  I feel as though I’ve woken up for the first time in ages. The Stone’s words still echo fresh in my head.

  The dark basement no longer glows that bright, sickly green. I guess it’s because the Stone is within me now. I passed the test… I think.

  Only now do I realize that the floor is actually a pale gray. There are mosaicked vines snaking across the tile of the floor that shimmer and illuminate the room slightly. Above us, the ceiling is a lot further away than I thought too, arched in a dome with a painting of a boy with golden hair and a glowing green object in his hands. There are even small lights faintly glittering just under the start of the dome, and the altar, an alabaster table, sits innocently in the middle of everything. There are eight walls, like Phelix’s office, but only one contains a set of doors—the same set I walked in to get here.

  Lafayette lies next to me, breathing lightly. His back is to me, but soon he stirs.

  “Lafayette?”

  He groans and turns over to face me.

  “God, my head,” he grumbles, reaching up to rub where he was previously chipping away. To my relief, it seems there was no lasting damage.

  “You… okay?”

  He glances at me.

  “I’ve had better days. But you should look at yourself.”

  I look down at my chest. There’s a hole in my shirt right and a faint green glow comes from underneath my skin, pulsing slightly.

  “Would you look at that? It’s the Stone,” he says, ignoring my question. “It never shows its true form and resides within its master’s heart until they die… According to Orion. Guess that painting of Fantastique up there isn’t very accurate.”

  “How did you…?”

  “Your brother studied a lot of magic, Mid. It wasn’t that hard to enter the Stone.”

  “Was it all in the Stone?”

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  I take a breath, calming my nerves.

  Just as I’m about to stand up, Lafayette twists suddenly and grabs my arm.

  “Mid.” His voice, for once, loses its usual strength and command. “I… couldn’t say it before, but… you ought to know that I’m glad to have met you. Though… that might be… insignificant to you.”

  I start to say something like “thank you” or “me too,” but I shouldn’t. I don’t know what will happen if I do.

  “It… It’s not like it matters,” I say instead. “Since I’m probably going to die in the next few minutes.”

  “Probably.”

  “W-what’s wrong?” I pinch my lips together. “Are you okay?” A shaky breath passes through me, and I see him tense when it does. “I mean, you promised you wouldn’t miss me, right? I’m just that crazy girl who caused you to crash your plane into a pond at the bottom of a cliff. No need to worry about me.”

  “Midnight Thunder…” he says slowly. “You are absurd.”

  His words cause
a few more tremorous breaths to shutter through my lungs.

  “I am,” I say, forcing a grin on my face.

  He’s still looking at the ground.

  For a quiet moment, we just stay like this. Time feels as if it stopped.

  “I guess… I guess we should go,” I say quietly.

  He nods just slightly enough for me to see.

  Pushing myself away so time will continue ticking to my doom is maybe one of the hardest things I’ve ever done

  “You know,” he says, making me falter mid-step. “Some people are either selfish, but therefore selfless for their own benefit, or they’re selfless and have to be selfish in order to truly be happy.”

  “What… do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I mean. And you… you are the latter. You’re the one who needs to start being a little selfish sometimes, you know. For your own good.”

  “Then, which are you?” I ask.

  “The first one.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I puzzle over this as I walk to the double doors, only looking back once my fingers are securely wrapped around one of the handles.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  He grimaces. I can’t tell if it’s because of his injuries or because of something more.

  “You can go out first. My head’s bothering me. I’ll catch up, don’t worry.”

  “I’ll wait for you on the steps in front of the Palace.”

  I imagine the echo of the mahogany door slamming shut behind me is like the sound of my fate sealing. Heartlessly, inevitably unchangeable.

  Gritting my teeth together, I force myself to walk up each and every step back up until I face the stone door again, still sealed shut. My hand finds the brick with the rune written on it, and I push it in. The sound of stone rubbing on stone makes me nauseous.

  Without saying a word, I seem to float through the darkened foyer in a trance. The air around me already seems purple with the evening lighting, and Annabelle glances up as I pass by but doesn’t say anything. As if I’m already dead.

  Glorieux’s unconscious body lays on the ground, less than three feet away from her illegitimate son.

  It’s in this small moment walking to the half-open doors of the Summer Palace that I feel strangely at peace. And stepping out onto the gray steps, marred with one large hole on the side, I sigh and fill my senses with the vibrant colors of twilight.

  I didn’t think about how high the hill the Summer Palace sits on is until now, staring out into what feels like the entire country.

  The sun is just starting to set into the horizon, turning the clouds a beautiful mix of pinks, purples, and oranges as the light catches the tops of the trees and makes them look as if they’re powdered with fairy dust. Even the white of the Summer Palace gives off a warm glow, setting the air around me alight. Surreal. As if I’m already facing the heavens.

  What’s taking Lafayette so long?

  Maybe he really did somehow formulate a plan while asking Sucre all those questions.

  But what could he possibly do at this point?

  Oh… but there’s that. My sizzling, illegal spell, Decomposition. Now that I’m mortal, couldn’t I just kill myself with my own hands?

  Wouldn’t that be better? Whatever outcome Lafayette is planning, I could at least prevent him from getting any more blood on his hands. After all, just from that look on his face when we talked about memories in the woods, I think maybe he should get a second chance at life. Maybe Glorieux will find a way to truly free herself from her chains. Maybe, if he lives, Artemis will learn to stand on his own two feet. Phelix will finally be rid of the shadow of the Arimean Eye Experiment once and for all.

  I am the last remnant of everyone’s pain. The ash to bury all of our curses in the past.

  As if on cue, the click of the door handle signals his arrival.

  Lafayette comes to my side.

  “Well… Shall we begin?” he asks, eyes fixed on the setting sun.

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  I face the glowing country of Galviton. My attempts to calm myself have been futile—my hands are clammy and my heart refuses to slow. The end is near.

  I move forward to the edge of the step and face the world.

  Here we are. Midnight Thunder’s last stand.

  Loyal as always, magic comes pouring into my body, running through me into the tips of my fingers.

  Inhale. Eyes closed. Exhale. Eyes open.

  I’m met with a different world, sunset wiped away, leaving me with only a pink-washed landscape and masses of cursed people evident to me even beyond the horizon.

  Off we go…

  I reach my hands out as if I’m reaching for the sun, and I feel a pull, almost magnetic, on my hands. Each and every one of the people out there; each soul is a string tied to my fingers… Like I’m the puppeteer of the world.

  Every person in my vision has at least one little white light within them that pierces through my mono-colored vision—like each person has their own candle slowly ticking down their lifespan. I can tell what bodies are suffering from the effects of the curse—inside of their purple bodies are two lights instead of one, like Lafayette.

  I seize that feeling within me—that pull—and I draw back, heaving it towards me. Pain erupts everywhere like hair tied to two tons of bricks is being pulled out of my hands, and a flare of pain sparks in my temples, pulsing and angry.

  A yell escapes my throat as green shines through my pink vision, pumping through my veins and arteries as I pull, making my hands begin to glow a faint green. The Stone’s magic is already flowing into me.

  I feel a dandelion blowing in the breeze. Effortlessly fragile, yet strong enough to connect the world in one gust of wind.

  The invisible strings that bind my hands hold them in place as tethers to each person. But those strings also hold my body in place, rooting me to the ground to stand here and face this expanse of the country, the grim reaper right at my shoulder. No wonder I’d never discovered I could do this—it’s paralyzing.

  But slowly, one by one, the lost, dead spirits peel out of the people they’re possessing and come closer to me. It’s like seeing glowing bullets flying towards me in slow motion.

  My sight gets darker and darker. A purplish color coalesces out of the many points coming towards me as the border of the curse’s reach moves closer and closer. Each pull seems to drain everything in me, yet I keep going. A pull to the right, and souls pour in from the west. A pull to the left, and souls pour in from the east. When I try to slacken the pull of the south, the north flows right into my body, and vice versa. Every connection is like a hand reaching to me for help, and every hand I hold is another burden on my back. Everywhere I turn, souls collide into me.

  I think it’s close enough now. What does Lafayette look like? Is he still purple?

  The pinkish-red filter over my world has been stained with a purple that paints the sunset a midnight sky and makes my entire body turn to an inky black with only the green of the stone peering through. The world might as well be a black and white photograph washed over with the darkest shade of purple possible.

  I look at Lafayette, and the final strain of purple leaves his body as well as the soul of Black. The soul of my brother is now within me.

  I give one last look around, my hands shuddering, my head aching. I can barely see anything, least of which the beautiful sunset I had marveled at before.

  But I still feel the warmth on my face like a distant touch from the real world.

  See, Lafayette? Whatever you were planning, I’m in control now.

  But… I’m scared. I’m scared to let go of the spell and let everything fall in place.

  The moment I let go, everything will be over.

  Was it… was it worth it?

  With a gasp, not realizing how much my lungs hurt from holding my breath, I can’t hold any longer.

  It all hits me at once. Green pulses through my veins as
magic is sucked out of me—in an amount larger than I could ever imagine. If before, it felt like slight pull out of me, now it’s like someone sliced open my very soul to use my magic as the only thing holding the curse in its condensed form. I gasp for air—for magic—but the magic doesn’t come from the wind, it comes from the new power residing in my heart.

  Every soul punches into my body once again at a hundred times their original speed. The strings snap, and the world goes completely silent.

  Control?

  No, I am now the puppet.

  It’s over.

  At first, there’s a buzz in my ears…

  It spreads through my head and begins to shake my entire spine and body. It’s like every person in the world is screaming at once. My view changes, and I’m now facing the pavestone of the balcony. I can’t even hear my own screaming because everything is so loud and overpowering, but I know that some feral caterwaul is coming out of my mouth because the pain is searing my throat as I push it beyond its capabilities.

  Everything hurts. Just end it now…

  I can barely see my arm. It’s nothing but a black blob in my vision. My arm moves erratically, jerking around from other spirits trying to stop me. My fingers are fumbling. My hand is flickering. But I feel the acidic touch at my throat—the slight sensation it gives me when it starts eating away at me.

  I can’t breathe. Am I bleeding yet? I can’t even tell where my hand is anymore.

  Just a little further…

  Is Lafayette saying something?

  Wait. Why… isn’t my arm moving?

  Why can’t I feel my arm? Where did it go?

  No. Just let me do this. Just let me bring my hand to my throat. Or my chest. Or my head. Anywhere.

  But please.

  Don’t make me force Lafayette to suffer any more than I’ve already made him suffer. At least don’t stain his hands with my blood.

  It’s no use. I can’t feel my arms anymore. I can’t feel my whole body, in fact.

  “Shh…” someone says above me, their voice echoing as if they’re distant, calling me from far away.

  The pain ebbs from my throat.

  A touch to my head breaks through the numbness I feel through my body. My vision is narrowed and blurry on the edges. Every sound from the outside world sounds distant, reverberating a good ten times before ever disappearing. They’re too many people inside of me for me to discern any sort of actual word from them. There’s a crowd of thousands inside of me, and everyone is talking—no, screaming, at the same time. I wonder if Soren is in there too…