Chapter 16 Irene #2
Irene winced at the mere mention of the other nominees.
Ever since the conclusion of the final trial, she had done everything in her power to push them out of her mind, to eradicate them from her memory.
And either way—what did it matter to her?
They had been a nuisance. A terrible affliction.
Olivier and his infuriating ego. Wren and her self-righteous philosophy.
August and his pathetic yearning. Emilio and his annoying insecurities.
Masika and her irritating loyalty. So why should she care? Why should she miss them?
Irene shivered as a crisp breeze blanketed her arms in goose bumps. “Can we just cut to the chase?”
Silas’s mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
“Very well.” He slowly slipped the glove off his right hand, flexing his exposed fingers.
Wrapped around his index finger was a ring similar to the one worn by the Ascended, though the golden band was thicker, deep grooves etched upon its surface that burned with a glowing light.
Huh.
Irene had never seen it before.
“Have you ever wondered how far you could stretch the limits of your magic? How deep the well goes?”
Silas raised his hand, and it was as if he had bent the very particles of the air around him, a swirling palette of hazy color dancing beneath his fingertips.
He flicked his wrist and the forest around them blurred, shapes and colors moving too quickly for Irene’s eyes to process.
It was like staring out the window of a speeding train, an indecipherable cloud of color rushing by them.
And then Silas snapped his fingers and the world around them stilled. But they were no longer in the forest.
In fact, from what Irene could gather, they were no longer in purgatory at all.
They were standing in the middle of a park, bathed in the shadow of a willow tree, a glassy lake stretched before them.
Leaves rustled in the wind—deep umber, yellow and crisp apple red.
An autumnal palette washed in the orange light of sunset.
And up ahead, just beyond where they stood, were…
people. Couples and families lounging on picnic blankets.
Joggers running around the edge of the lake. Students congregating in the shade.
Silas lifted his hand, tracing the edge of a willow leaf with his fingertips. “Look familiar?”
“Are we—” Irene broke off, her mind struggling to piece together what she was seeing.
Silas stepped forward, gesturing to the park. “Boston,” he said. “The Public Garden, to be precise. You liked walking here, didn’t you?”
Somewhere in the distance, a chime of laughter rang out, drifting with the wind. Irene couldn’t move. Hot tears prickled behind her eyes, chest heaving as she struggled to choke back a sob.
“Is this…is this an illusion?” she asked, voice wavering. “We can’t…we can’t actually be in Boston.”
Silas turned to look at her, eyes burning with something fierce and wild. “What can and can’t be no longer matters, Ms. Bamford. Not when you’re with me.”
Irene gently lowered herself to the ground, kneeling upon the cool grass. It all felt so real. The thin blades of grass slipping between her fingers. The warmth of the sun whispering upon her skin.
“How?” she managed to choke out.
Silas stepped closer. “I’ve allowed us a temporary visit, if you will.”
Irene closed her eyes, angling her face toward the sky. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the warmth of the sun, how much she’d craved the soft caress of the wind against her skin. Her humanity, long dormant, rose within her, a starved plant reaching for a sliver of sunlight.
Her eyelids fluttered open. The clear water of the pond rippled in the wind. “I never thought I’d see this world again.”
Silas hummed. “Did you miss it?”
Irene shivered. “I didn’t think I did.”
Silas knelt next to her. When he looked at Irene, his eyes had taken on an unfamiliar warmth, a softness. The wickedness in his gaze was gone. The ancient power radiating from his soul had faded.
He looked…human. Nothing more than a broken man.
“Death doesn’t have to be the end for you.” Silas reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, searching for something. When he removed his hand, a small golden pocket mirror was nestled in his palm. “This…this is just the beginning. A mere taste of what I can offer you. What I can teach you.”
He opened the pocket mirror and aimed it toward the park, letting it linger there for a moment.
A cardinal zipped by, temporarily blotting out the sun.
A couple shared a brief kiss by the lake, hands intertwined.
A sharp breeze sent a flutter of leaves tumbling by their feet.
When Silas angled the mirror back toward Irene, that exact moment replayed over and over within its surface—the cardinal, the couple, the ruffle of leaves—as though Silas had somehow captured and recorded the moment within the pocket mirror.
“For you,” he whispered, gently closing the mirror and placing it in her hand. “Just point it toward the moment you wish to capture and it will be there…waiting for you.”
Irene shook her head. “I don’t understand…why are you doing this?”
Silas swallowed, looking out toward the lake. When he smiled, there was an unmistakable sadness behind it.
“I know what you must think of me,” he began, his voice low.
“That I’m a monster. A tyrant. And…perhaps you’re right.
But I make necessary sacrifices in order to preserve this.
I was not handed this power—I claimed it.
” He peeled his eyes away from the lake, lowering his gaze toward Irene.
“You can understand that…can’t you, Irene?
The desire to fight against your fate. To take what should rightfully be yours. ”
Irene shivered. More than you know, she wanted to whisper back.
Her entire life had felt like an unstoppable current she’d been unable to escape.
Her mother had made sure of that. Even in death, Irene had been forced to wrestle against the hand of fate, to swim against the vicious tide that threatened to pull her under.
And now…now she was torn. Split in two. Forced to reckon with two sides that wished to claim her.
Mateo offered her freedom—a path to vengeance.
With the Demien Order, Irene could rip apart the hand of fate and seize her power.
Wasn’t it Silas’s fault, after all? Wasn’t he the one who put them in that godforsaken competition in the first place?
The one who lied to them? Who forced Irene to stand back and watch innocent souls perish under the Ether’s greed?
He was the ringmaster…the orchestrator of it all.
And yet…
Something inside her faltered. A hesitance. A sickening doubt.
Silas placed his hand upon her shoulder. If he noticed the war being waged inside her, he didn’t show it.
“Where to next?” he asked.
Irene closed her palm around the pocket mirror. “Where can we go?”
Silas smiled.
“Anywhere.”