Act III Scene XXXV
Places look different when you know you’re seeing them for the last time.
I’d never noticed the greenish tint of Player Rhea’s eyes, but I note them as we pass her fading portrait. She lost her battle in the arena after a seventy-five-year run.
Though I realize now I’d recognize Arius in any role.
The peeling red paint on the wall has a nasty slit in its side, and I almost brush my fingers over it as we pass. Parrish told me it was from Titus drunkenly challenging Jude to a duel that lasted all of twenty seconds and ended in Mattia threatening to suspend both their realities.
As we cross the corridor that leads backstage, I look up the staircase that ascends to the catwalk and, for some reason, imagine Gene smiling down from it. Never a stranger hunting me in the Playhouse, but an old friend trying to stop my fate from becoming hers. Maybe she’d be proud.
Our heels echo as we close in on the stage, and I clutch Jude’s hand a little tighter the farther we go, counting our steps. One for every song sung. Another for every tale told. A third for every dance performed. A step for every page flipped.
A bow taken for all that we are. Story. Craft. Every tale has our magic sewn into its bindings, bits of stars and laughter and whispered secrets only Players know. It’s far past time they were set free. For someone else to tell them.
I wish the walk would last longer but figure longer will never be enough to satiate nostalgia. Even if it’s just a fancy cage full of false memories. We’ve walked these halls in hundreds of different shoes together; it has to be enough.
My plan is structured in the same fashion that all of my plans are: feeble, reckless, and prone to fall apart at any moment.
“Do you believe what they say about Fate?” I ask Jude, my breath catching in my throat the closer we get to the stage. I can’t help but glance down at the Finders Keepers ring peeking between our fingers, searching for comfort in it. “That Fate bows to no man.”
“Yes,” Jude replies and looks down at me. “I think she’d be terrified of you, though.”
Departing the wings, we step onto the stage. One way or another, for the last time.