Chapter 3 #2
Once the incision was made, I continued to the next sigil, twisting my fingers to form the shape as I recited the incantation taught to me nearly thirty years ago by Gran.
The filaments of ether began to seep through the opening I created.
Strands of the various hues of the rainbow wriggled their way into the space like the limbs of a wild animal, caught in a snare.
Reaching out, I plucked the strands I would need, tying them together with the will of the magic coursing through me and the force of my incantation.
Weaving threads of Ether was difficult work, and before long, my brow was slicked with sweat.
But Cirian’s comment before was correct—I had been practicing.
And thanks to my recent dedication to increasing my proficiency in the art, it took a little more than a minute for me to complete the veil and settle it over Malachi.
His features blurred as the magic snapped into place, layering over his body and twisting the shape of it into the visage of a man I had seen earlier that afternoon on the streets of Briarwood.
He was older, with grey-streaked temples and a worn flannel shirt that sat untucked over his denim trousers.
“There,” I concluded, allowing the tear in the Ether to seal itself back up and wiping the perspiration from my brow. “That ought to do it.”
“Bunny washes away the stain but doesn’t take the ink.”
“Right,” I agreed, hoping that the statement wasn’t some kind of criticism. “Couldn’t do anything about the language, but at least you shouldn’t be recognized now. Stay close to me, yeah? It’s harder for me to hold the veil in place the further you go from me. Understand?”
Malachi stomped his feet in a strange rhythm.
“Splendid. Now, come on. Let’s go find some answers.”
Cirian stood just outside the closet, leaning against the wall as though he were trying to blend into the scenery. His gaze was focused so intently on the entrance that he startled at my greeting.
“Okay, I think we’re ready.”
Cirian’s eyes drifted over Malachi, narrowing as they reached his face.
“I know you’re not one for compliments, but that’s some proper work, Bast. Worlds better than when you tried to sneak Tobias and yourself into the Cradle.”
I ignored the barbed compliment, my attention shifting to the café. The voices below had quieted a bit, the sounds of the crowd diminished to one voice, and the occasional murmur of agreements coming from the masses.
“They’ve already started,” I concluded, leading the other two back into the dining room.
I was struck once again by the unsettling familiarity of my surroundings.
It had only been a few months since I left my life as a barista behind and joined the Unseen Rebellion, yet so much had changed in that short time.
New fabric had been upholstered to the booths by the window, the old, tattered leather replaced with shiny new patterns that caught the eye.
A few of the art pieces on the wall had been swapped out as well, replaced with fresh-looking canvases scribbled with names I’d never heard of.
The world contained within the Mortal Cup had gone on without me, and even though I didn’t regret my choice to leave—especially as it was the path that led me back to Tobias—I couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt over the fact that my departure seemed to have zero impact on the place.
“Come on,” I told the others, moving for the entrance to the basement. “We can sneak into the crowd while they’re distracted.
“Maybe we can get a better idea as to what it is these Converts want,” Cirian added, moving ahead and standing by the door leading to the staircase.
Malachi pulled at my arm. His eyes were wide and his breathing quick. “Bunny waits in the meadow as the crow circles above.”
“It’s all right,” I consoled him. “As I said, stick close to me. Cirian and I will keep you safe. I promise. And if you see the person who did this to you, I need you to remain calm and try your best to let me know. Do you understand?”
Again, Malachi tapped his feet in an uneven rhythm.
Despite the obstacles, we were beginning to be able to communicate with one another. Hopefully, it would be enough that he could help us find the one responsible for his addled brain.
“Ready?” Cirian asked as we stood at the top of the stairs, looking down into the flickering light below. The staircase made an abrupt turn halfway down, obscuring our view of the basement below or any of the Mortals that had gathered there.
I tightened my grip on the veil shrouding Malachi, ensuring that every edge was sealed tight. Then, once I was satisfied with my workmanship, I nodded to Cirian, and he took point as we descended the wooden stairs.
The familiar scent of musty air filled my senses as we rounded the bend, stepping down into the basement proper.
The shelves of paper goods and products had all been pushed to the edges of the room, the center open for the crowd that gathered.
Bodies packed into the space so densely that an unnatural heat permeated the air.
The crowd had formed a circle with a lone figure standing in the space in the center opening.
Surrounding the figure, rows and rows of people sat on the floor, all eyes on the figure in the center as they continued to speak.
“It is the gift we have been given that will lead us to a better tomorrow, my friends. I’ve seen that it will come to pass. When that hour is upon us, I know that I can count on each of you to do what is necessary.”
The crowd came alive around us as we slipped into the outer edge of the cluster, doing our best to assimilate.
Peering through the masses, it was difficult to get a good look at the figure in the center, but it was obvious that their face was obscured with some sort of mask of white and crimson porcelain, not unlike the monks that served at the Cradle.
Nudging Cirian, he leaned over for me to whisper in his ear, “Isn’t that one of the masks from the clergy of the Church?”
Cirian raised on his tiptoes, trying to get a better look at the figure. “I can’t say for certain. It looks similar, but the markings are foreign to me.”
“Most Magi think Mortals beneath them,” the figure continued, spinning in place to cast their masked gaze over each of the gathered.
“That only those with magic flowing through their veins are worthy to govern. This is the hubris with which we contend. Now is the time to show them their follies. That magic gives no authority of its own volition. And now that it has been handed down to Mortalkind, we will show them that there is a better way forward.”
Enthusiasm swelled from all around us, the excited murmurings of the crowd charging the air around us. Whoever this person was, one thing was evident—they knew how to elicit an emotional response. The group around us was captivated by their words, all eyes drawn to the figure’s every move.
“I come tonight with a story to share,” the masculine voice continued.
“A tale of hope for each of you to carry with you as you decide whether or not you’d like to join the cause.
This is the true story of how magic entered our world.
” The figure pulled out a small glass orb from the pocket, muttering a quiet incantation under their mask.
The orb rose from their hand and began to glow with a pulsating white light.
“Long ago, when the Expanse was covered in a darkness that saturated the land—” they waved a hand over the orb, and the light within flickered and died.
The lights above also flickered and went out, plunging the room into pitch darkness.
Murmurs quickly spread through the crowd, but the voice spoke over them, dominant and commanding, “A Great Light appeared, at the edges of existence.”
The orb illuminated once more, casting long shadows against the ceiling as motes of light drifted from its center, filling the air all around the figure.
“This Great Light discovered the Expanse, dwelling in the shadows, and from the recesses of its infinite power, it saw fit to grant the barren land a light of its own. And so, with an exhale, the Great Light breathed to life the stars in the heavens above.”
More motes filled the room now, drifting over the heads of the crowd as they watched on, transfixed.
“Along with the sky of newborn stars, the Great Light breathed a second time, this time crafting the Sun and the Moon, to rule over the days and nights across the Expanse. Life began to stir across the Expanse as the Great Light looked on, delighted in the success of its creations. But there was more yet for the Great Light to do. Seeing that Mortals now walked the Expanse, the Great Light desired to leave one final gift for those who dwelled under its luminescence.”
The figure raised the orb over their head once more, the interior glowing with white-hot light as it lifted into the air, hovering over them.
Pressing their hands together, they spoke, “The Great Light had grown weary over the eons, exploring the cosmos.
It knew that there would never be another world like that which was created across the Expanse.
So, with its final breath, the Great Light birthed the Source of All Magic, bestowing it upon the world which it loved so dearly.
“As the Great Light flickered, its end drawing ever nearer, it watched its newest and final creation descend upon the Expanse, hoping that it would bring the Mortals lasting peace and prosperity.”
The orb’s light dimmed, only bright enough that we could make out the masked face of the figure as the room fell silent.
“But peace did not follow as the Great Light intended. The mortals who walked the Expanse had grown arrogant in the thousands of years they’d bathed in the glow of the Great Light.
They’d turned their backs on that which had created their world, and in doing so, their despondence created a rift in the very fabric of reality itself. ”