Chapter 51
Light blooms in the darkness. Hazy at first, but then a new reality sharpens around it. I’m standing before the Arcanum Chalice. But the room it’s within is not quite the same as the one I know.
The stands and balcony aren’t there. The four pillars and the stained glass dome they support are. But the vertical walls between them are solid—almost oppressive. It feels as though I am in a vault.
On the opposite side of the Chalice are two men. A young Kaelis faces his father, pure loathing glittering in his eyes, hatred as blazing as the Chalice’s flames. King Naethor looks much like the man I know—strong, austere.
“The Chalice has always been here; it’s impossible to move from this spot, as though it was forged into the stone. The room looks different because I changed aspects of the fortress when it became an academy.”
I jerk in the direction of the voice. Kaelis—as I know him—stands next to me. Though his form seems less than completely solid. Almost slightly transparent. As if an artist created outlines that they forgot to fill in.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt.
He looks at me incredulously and lifts his brows. “It’s my memory I’ve allowed you into. I cast the card. Why would I not be here?”
“Eza wasn’t there the last time this card was used on me.”
“Wasn’t he, though?” Kaelis tilts his head to the side.
I heard him as I ran through the vision…Eza asking how I was altering the world he’d tried to trap me within. He was there, pulling the strings like some kind of puppet master. He just didn’t let me see him.
“Yes,” Kaelis says, as if he can hear my thoughts, “the one who casts the Hanged Man can see within the realm of their making.” Kaelis turns his attention back to his former self and his father.
“I thought not being alone might be easier for you, given how disorienting this can be in the best of circumstances.”
“That’s surprisingly considerate.”
“I take offense to the use of ‘surprisingly,’ ” he says dryly.
“If that’s true, then maybe you shouldn’t give me reason to use it,” I tease.
He huffs at my perpetual audacity but doesn’t say anything else. Then King Naethor commands our attention as he spreads the deck he had been shuffling onto the same pedestal as the Chalice. Past Kaelis draws three cards.
I walk around the Chalice to get a better look as the cards are flipped. Neither of the men reacts.
The first card is the Two of Cups. I can’t stop a laugh.
“You and me both?” I look to the Kaelis I know.
He dips his chin slightly. “Perhaps the instinct you had to destroy the Two of Cups was a memory of yourself from the world that could’ve—should’ve been.”
Anything else I could ask is silenced as the younger Kaelis throws the card into the Chalice’s flames.
There is a surge of magic and a burst of light.
Suddenly, we’re no longer in the fortress.
A young Kaelis—hardly older than the eighteen-year-old man I saw standing before the Chalice—strolls through the streets of Eclipse City.
The younger Kaelis wears clothing even more plain than what Kaelis wore when we went into the city to visit Twino and Ren.
There is no waistcoat or cravat. No vest or cuff links.
No heavy coat with silver stitching. He’s in a simple pair of woolen trousers dyed a deep blue.
An undyed linen shirt hangs loosely around his lean frame.
His hair is looser, a bit messier than he keeps it now.
His eyes aren’t as sunken but are just as haunted.
The moment he turns a street corner, I’m overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity.
I recognize this place. I know the shop he enters because it’s one I passed countless times on my way to the Starcrossed Club.
And inside…is me. Or, rather, a different version of me.
My sixteen-year-old self is deep in argument with the clerk.
“I know I had it somewhere; some little thief must’ve lifted it off of me.
” The past me that never was pats her pockets and clothing for a pin that I know isn’t there.
Even before the academy, clan Arcanists had pins bearing the seal of their clan that displayed their ability to buy and trade arcane goods.
Naethor always kept magic tightly regulated.
“Can you perhaps make an exception this one time?”
“I make an exception, and I’m reported right to the crown,” the shopkeeper says gruffly.
“There you are,” the younger Kaelis says smoothly after only a second of watching the exchange unfold, with a slightly amused smile that he doesn’t even bother tucking away. The man was apparently born with his easy arrogance.
The younger me at the counter turns, eyes widening to a ridiculous point as he strides over. Kaelis’s attempts to be incognito clearly failed, because even younger me in this reality could recognize him in an instant.
Young Kaelis slides up to the counter next to my alternate self, his hand gliding around my waist as if it’s always been there. As if it was made to be there. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
The alternate me opens and closes her mouth twice, eyes darting.
“Was I really that terrible at lying and scheming back then?” I rub my temple, staring at my past self incredulously. And here I thought I was so good at what I did, even then. There’s nothing that will gut your ego faster than being faced with your past.
“You still are,” my Kaelis quips from my side.
“You’re lucky you’re not solid.” I narrow my eyes at him. Our exchange is cut short by the versions of ourselves that never were.
“Forgive me, good sir, I sent her ahead to fetch some supplies for me,” younger Kaelis says smoothly, his hand still on my person. Even in this world, I was clearly fighting offense at his boldness. But this me also knew when it was better for her to shut up and let him lead.
“And who are you?” The shopkeeper looks Kaelis up and down, clearly assuming he doesn’t amount to much.
“Do you not recognize your prince?” Kaelis smirks. The shopkeeper’s eyes widen, and his jaw goes slack.
“An apology is in order,” this alternate me demands on his behalf. I can tell how uncomfortable she is being that close to the prince. But she doesn’t miss a beat. Maybe I’m not as horrible as I thought at being calculating.
The Kaelis standing next to her preens, all too proud to be noticed and defended.
Blubbering, the man issues his apology. These alternate versions of ourselves play him like a fiddle.
Even though I’ve every assumption that this is the first time we’ve met in this world, it’s as though we already know each other—can assume the other person’s next movements before they’re made, like a dance.
When our younger selves leave the shop, her hands are laden: two decks of Minors and a bag of inking supplies.
Without a word, they come to a stop, as if it’s rehearsed. Wisteria climbs up the storefront, framing us in a purple haze. Perfuming the air with the scents of summer. I always loved this shop for that. We are toe to toe, just as one would depict two future lovers on the Two of Cups.
“I’m sure you know that I shouldn’t have th—” the younger version of myself begins to say.
Younger Kaelis shakes his head. With a wild smile, as if he knows this is something akin to destiny, he asks, “What’s your name?”
“My name?” Even then, the question puts me on edge.
“You know mine; it’s only fair.”
A moment of calculation. Of panic. But this version of myself is still me. She does exactly what I would’ve done. “Clara Graysword.”
“Clara Graysword,” he repeats slowly. From the moment we first met, he savors my name.
“Clara Graysword,” the Kaelis at my side repeats softer, gentler. One is said with curiosity. The other with familiarity. An echo of the past that never was harmonizing with the future.
I glance his way, and the demand he posed earlier, that was left unanswered, still lingers. Tell me your true name. But he doesn’t ask again.
“Consider the name payment enough for the cards.” Younger Kaelis steps backward.
“You’re really not going to stop me?”
“Not today, Clara. Maybe next time, when I find out what you intend to use those cards for.”
My other self scoffs. “Your mistake, Prince; you never will.” She turns, walking away. Offhandedly, she says, “Luck is on my side, after all.”
This is how he knew…everything. He knew my name. My appearance. I can still feel the warmth of his breath on my ear as he whispered that luck is on my side right before the Fire Festival.
My shock is interrupted by the last person I’d ever want to hear.
“Do it,” King Naethor’s disembodied voice demands.
The young Kaelis blinks. The world seems to twist, just slightly, just enough that the colors are a bit too bright. The outlines of the wisteria have become hazier, almost pulsing.
It’s the moment he’s realizing that what’s before him isn’t reality.
“Do it, now.” King Naethor is relentless and impatient.
The younger Kaelis hesitates for a breath. He sucks it in and holds it, as if by postponing the exhale he could make time stop. Then, when his lungs are surely burning, he finally moves.
I don’t flinch as younger Kaelis’s swift card work annihilates this other version of myself.
She puts up a good fight—it is me, or the specter of me, after all.
But Kaelis has the upper hand with the element of surprise, and he doesn’t hesitate.
Nor does he try to refrain from using more advanced cards, like I was forced to when my Chalice sacrifice was made.
The dying future begins to blur, condensing to a single focus: a younger Kaelis looming over my mangled corpse.
It’s as though an unseen hand is snuffing all the lanterns that illuminate this vision—like we are watching the final moments of a stage play.
One by one, the buildings fade, the shop disappears, it all vanishes, with the exception of us.
One last light against the darkness. One last moment of him studying my still frame not with mourning but with fascination. As if the secrets of the universe are wrapped within my form.
Then it all goes dark.